#God fucking damn Brant

[localguy2]

Yeah so-

Brant Miller sure does know how to make Zane shout VERY loudly...

[nothingbutimagines]

Elizabeths (Chapter II)

Pairing: Bad boy!Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Cursing, death, mentions of suicide

Summary: Y/n is part of her high school’s most powerful and most popular clique, but she disapproves of the other girls’ behavior. When Y/n meets the new boy in school, Peter Parker, and begins dating him, what she has known to be her clique begins to unravel. Starting with the death of the clique leader, Liz Allan, one by one, people Y/n doesn’t like begin to die by her and Peter’s hands. Soon, she realizes that Peter is killing students he hates and begins to try to foil his plans, all while clashing with the new clique leader, Elizabeth “Betty” Brant.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is a Peter Parker AU I thought of doing. It’s a Heathers AU!!! This is going to follow a similar plot to Heathers, but of course, I won’t keep everything the exact same. Here, we meet our protaganist, Y/n, and our love interest, JD Peter.

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

Dear Diary,

I know I said I only fuck with the college boys and to hell with the high school ones, but goddamn, I can’t take my mind of off Peter Parker. Especially with him pulling that shit he did with the gun in the commons. 

“God, they won’t expel him. They’ll probably just suspend him for a week or something.” Lizzie insisted, clacking her croquet mallet against your own as you both chuckled. 

“He used a real gun.” Liz scoffed. “They should throw his ass in jail. Doesn’t he know today’s climate? Hasn’t he heard of Columbine?”

“No way.” You argued, leaning forward on your unused mallet as you watched Liz retie her ponytail with that red scrunchie you always hated. “He used blanks. All Peter did was ruined two pairs of pants... maybe not even that...” You and Lizzie began giggling. “I mean, can you bleach out urine stains?”

The sound of Liz knocking her mallet into the red ball and the red ball hitting Betty’s green one was a response enough. The sound was almost deafening as silence fell between you and Lizzie. 

“Ah, yes, Peter.” Liz finally spoke up, “You seem pretty amused. I thought you were over high school guys.” 

“Never say never.”

“What are you going to do, Liz? Take the two shots or knock me out?” Betty asked, her doe like eyes meeting Liz’s, making it clear she had not been paying attention to the conversation at hand. 

“Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?” Liz snapped. “First you ask if you can be red, knowing I am always red...”

You watched as Liz took a step forward, her foot firm on her red ball as she hit the mallet against it, the red ball sending Betty’s green into the flower bed, causing you to wince as Liz grunted triumphantly. 

Liz hit her ball again, this time falling short of the wicket as she groaned, rolling her eyes. Always too cocky too early, Liz.

“Damn.” She cursed. “Anyway, I can say never to high school boys. Especially when I have Steve.” 

“Ah, yes. King Steve.” Lizzie chuckled, taking her shot and getting the yellow ball through the wicket as she squealed. 

“Maybe when you get older and actually reach maturity, you’ll understand the difference between Columbia University man like Steve and a Midtown High boy like Brad “nut-and-bolt” Davis.” 

Lizzie shrugged. “I think Brad’s sweet. Your turn, Betty!” 

Betty pouted, a whine escaping her throat as she navigated getting into the flower bed, trying to avoid the peonies your mother had planted earlier in the week. 

“No pain, no gain!” Lizzie teased.

“Give it up, girl!” You added, both of you howling at Betty. 

You watched as Betty furrowed her brow, leaning down a bit as she hit the ball. You chuckled as it bounced off a tree and then hit the fountain in the yard before rolling perfectly through the wicket. 

“Holy shit!” You gasped, howling in laughter.

“That was incredible!” Lizzie squealed.

“What. A. Shot.” Liz added, shaking her head, a mixture of pride and jealousy in her smirk. 

You began setting up your shot as Lizzie spoke up, your attention half on her and the other half on getting the shot. 

“So, tonight’s the night. Are you two excited?” Lizzie asked, glancing between both you and Liz. 

“I’m giving Y/n her shot. Her first Columbia party. You blow it tonight, girl, and it’s keggers with kids all senior year.” 

You groaned, having missed your shot. As you dropped your mallet, bending down to pick it up, you rolled your eyes as Liz’s attitude. 

“Damn.” You cursed. “So, who’s this Bucky guy I’ve been set up with? Witty and urban pre-law or an idiot and savant art major?”

“Don’t worry.” Liz rolled her eyes. “Steve says he’s very. So he’s very.”

“I doubt it.” You muttered, knowing full well the only boy you wanted to be set up with is the bad boy wannabe from the commons. 

“Lizzie! Your mom is here!” Your mother called before Liz could open her mouth to say anything further. 

“Come on, whoever wants a ride!” Lizzie announced. “Bye, Y/n. Good luck.” 

“Yeah, good luck.” Betty agreed as she rushed past, following Lizzie and Liz up the stairs. 

You dropped your mallet and followed behind the girls, waving them off as they cut through the side of the house and off the property. You took a seat at the table on the patio as your father took a seat beside you, James Patterson book in hand as you mother joined you both, salsa and chips on the platter clutched in her fists. 

“So, what was the first week of Spring Break withdrawal like?” Your father asked, leaning past your slouching figure to grab a chip. 

“Hey, kid, isn’t the prom coming up?” Your mother asked before you could answer your father.

You shrugged with a smile. “I guess it is.”

“Any contestants worth mentioning?” 

“Maybe. I guess you could say there is a bit of a dark horse in the running.”

“Goddamn. Why do I even read these damn Patterson books. Bastard probably doesn’t even write them.” Your father chimed in, looking up at you.

“Because you’re an idiot.” You beamed, laughing alongside him for a moment. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s it.”

“You two...” Your mother smiled, shaking her head.

“Thanks for the salsa.” You rose from your seat. “But I gotta motor if I want to be ready for that party tonight.” 

Dear Diary,

When you fuck with the eagles, you gotta learn to fly. Columbia is Liz kicking my ass out of the nest, whether I like it or not. And to be honest, I don’t wanna fucking fly. 

You opened the car door, the cold night breeze chilling you to the bone as you slammed the door shut, wincing as you knew Liz would scold you for your improper behavior later. Tugging at the length of your sleeves, you walked towards the 7-11.

“Corn nuts!” Liz yelled, half her body out the car window as she yelled at you. 

Without looking back, you waved her off, tempted to just give her the middle finger and call it a night. 

You swung the door open, the warm draft greeting you as you made a beeline to the Corn Nuts, hoping to get in and get out and get this goddamn Columbia party over with. 

“You going to get a Big Gulp with that?” A voice erupted from behind you as you turned around, the bag of Corn Nuts you needed in hand. 

“No, but if you’re nice, I’ll let you buy me a Slurpee.” You teased, meeting Peter’s eyes, or rather, eye, as the other was covered by his falling bang. “You sure do know your 7-11 slang.” 

“I’ve moved around all my life; Baton Rouge, Vegas, Dallas, Suburbia. There’s always been a 7-11. The only stability. Any town, any time, I can pop a chicken sandwich in the microwave and feast on a tornado. Keeps me sane.” He explained, his hand shaking next to his head at the end of his speech. 

“Really?” You asked, “I don’t know, I mean, that thing you pulled today was pretty severe.”

“The extreme always makes an impression, but you’re right, it was pretty severe. Did you say a Coke or Cherry Slurpee?” 

“I didn’t.” You pulled a red vine from the open box at the counter. “Cherry.” 

You smiled, taking a bit out of the vine as you twirled it between your fingers, Peter matching your expression. You took the Slurpee from his hand and followed him to the counter, the silence between you comfortable as he paid for the snacks you collected and you followed him outside. 

You shivered in the cold air, the thought that getting a Slurpee was a good idea now turning in your mind. 

“Great bike.” You nodded to the motorcycle as Peter took a seat on it. 

Liz honked her horn, causing you to tear your gaze from Peter as she gave you an agitated look, only for you to return the gesture with a glare and turn back to Peter.

“Just a humble perk from my uncle’s construction company or should I say deconstruction company?” 

“I don’t know, should you?”

“My uncle seems to enjoy tearing things down more than building things up. Seen the commercial? ‘Bringing every State to a Higher State.’“

“Oh, shit.” You gasped, connecting the dots as you playfully hit Peter’s shoulder. “Peter Parker... Your uncle’s Big Ben Parker Construction. Must be rough, moving place to place.”

Peter shrugged. “Everybody’s got some static in their life. Is your life perfect?”

You scoffed. “Sure, I’m going to a Columbia University party.”

Liz honked the horn again, letting her hand rest on the horn for a little longer as you frowned.

“It’s not perfect.” Your tone was serious. “I don’t really like my friends.”

“I don’t really like your friends either.” Peter shook his head, a low chuckle escaping his lips. 

“It’s like they’re just people I work with and our job is being popular and shit.” 

“Maybe it’s time for a vacation.” 

Liz’s horn blared again as you waved at Peter, starting to walk away. “You’re telling me!”

Dear Diary,

The day I take a vacation, that’ll be the day Liz Allan is dead. Until then, I’m stuck doing my job being her popular lap dog and sucking her dick by telling her how hot and popular she is. 

You could barely suppress a look of disgust as you followed Liz and Steve through the crowded dormitory hallway and into Steve’s dorm. You hated Steve. Sleazy, sweaty, somewhat mediocre looking Steve. You could feel the clot of bile creep up your throat as Steve held the door open for you, the sick smell of cheap beer and sweat so pungent your eyes teared up. 

“You can just throw your coats down on the bed, girls.” Steve instructed as both you and Liz slipped off your coats and did as you were told. 

You watched as Steve walked away for a moment, you assumed to get Bucky as you looked at Liz, who was watching them as well, the doe like look in her eyes telling you that she was in love with him. That for some reason, the clever bitch fell for the disgusting college guy. 

“Y/n, this is Buck.” Steve introduced the other boy, his hand clasped on his shoulder as he guided him to you. 

“Excellent.” Bucky nodded, his eyes tracing over your form as you held back a frown. “Did you girls bring your partying boots?”

“Yeah, let’s party.” Liz smiled, jerking you to get you to do the same. 

Steve chuckled, throwing his arm around Liz as he looked at her. “What can I say? She loves to party.” 

Dear Diary, 

I want to kill and you have to believe... damn pen! 

“So, are you a cheerleader?” Bucky asked, his back against the tacky blue and grey striped wallpaper.

“Not at all.” You gagged, the smell of beer and cigarettes on his breath making you nauseous as you took a sip of the drink in your hand. 

“You’re pretty enough to be one.”

“Gee, thanks.” 

“It’s so great to be able to talk to a girl without having to ask ‘what’s your major?’ I hate that.” Bucky took a sip of his beer before continuing, “So, when you go to college, what do you think you’ll study?”

You have to believe it’s for more than selfish reasons. More than a spoke in my menstrual cycle. You have to believe me. 

Bucky had given up on conversation, you could tell by the way he shifted on his heels uncomfortably. It’s not like you minded, nor cared, since you debated finding Liz’s coat and stealing her car, leaving her in your dust. 

Goddamn Liz. Goddamn Columbia guys. Goddamn you for agreeing to be here.

“So, what do you say we go up to my dorm and have a real party? I’ve got the best rap mix in the whole dorm.” Bucky’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as another boy approached.

“Buck, man,” The boy jerked Bucky around by the shoulder, “Nick’s been looking for you. He says he owes you for blow and he just got some shit himself.”

“You’re kidding. Asshole really scored some of his own?”

“He’s in Nat’s room. Go, man. Party on.”

“Excellent.” Bucky finally turned to you, as if he forgot you were even there, “Y/n, you ever do coke?”

“Ever since writing that DARE essay in fifth grade, I refuse everything.” 

“DARE? Are you sure that shit still works?”

You smacked your forehead lightly. “Oh, geez, right! I wrote that at eleven. Might as well do drugs now since I’m not so stupid!” 

You groaned, pushing through the crowded hallway back to where you and Liz had thrown your coats. 

“Hey, don’t run off, now!” Bucky called out, following behind you closely.

Seventeen is the last year Mom buys the Twinkies. When you make the jump from working at Pizza Hut on the weekends to working thirty years at I.B.M, when you lose something, not innocence - power.

You swung open the door to the room, throwing yourself on the stack of coats on the couch beside the door. Setting your glass of vodka in your lap, you pulled out the matchbook you’d gotten at the 7-11. You struck a match, holding your hand over the flame, bringing it closer and closer until the red light licks your hand, causing you to shriek in pain. You dropped the match into the glass, shocked when it catches fire. Giggling to yourself, you toss the glass out the open window; out of sight, out of mind.

“There you are.” Bucky’s voice has you rolling your eyes as you turn to him. “How’s my little cheerleader? Now I know everyone at your high school isn’t so uptight, come on.” 

His hand was coated in sticky sweat as it touched your tight covered thigh and his breath was hot and warm as his leaned in too close to your face. 

“Hey, I really don’t feel so great.” You argued, shoving him away from you as you shot up off the couch. 

“Let’s do it on the coats.” He grinned, oblivious to your side of the conversation. “It’ll be excellent.”

“You know, I have a little prepared speech I give when my suitor wants more than I’d like to give him. Gee, Blank, I had a nice-”

“Save the speeches for Malcolm X. I just wanna get laid.” Bucky chuckled, cutting off your sentence before you could even get the bulk of it out. 

You yanked your coat out from under him, sending him sliding off the couch and to the floor.

“You don’t deserve my fucking speech.” You huffed, stepping over him and storming out the door.

You slow as you realized you now gained Liz’s attention, along with Steve’s as Bucky emerges from the “coat” room. You can tell by the falling smiles on both Steve’s and Liz’s faces as Bucky spews some words you can’t hear that they are more than pissed at you. You watch, your eyes widening as Liz slides her beer glass on the table beside her, steel-faced as she approaches you. 

“What’s your damage? Bucky says you’re being a real cooze.” Liz snapped.

“Liz, I feel awful, like I’m going to throw up. Can we jam, please?”

“Hell no.”

You couldn’t help it, the sudden clot in your throat was replaced with actual vomit as you leaned against the wall, rendered unable by your sudden fatigue to make it to the bathroom. You leaned over, vomit spilling onto the carpet and splatter hitting Liz’s red heels. Groaning, you charge down the hallway and out the door, determined to make it back to the car as Liz follows close behind. 

Christ, I can’t explain it, but I’m allowed an understanding that my parents and these Columbia University assholes have chosen to ignore. I must stop Liz.

“You stupid cunt!” Liz roared, the trash can fire casting shadows on her face as you shivered in the cool night air. 

“You goddamn bitch!” 

“You were nothing before you met me! You were playing Barbies with Cindy Moon! You were a Brownie, you were a Bluebird, you were a Girl Scout Cookie! I got you into a Columbia University party! What’s my thanks? It’s on the hallway carpet. I got paid in puke!” 

“Like it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.”

“Monday morning, you’re history. I’ll tell everyone about tonight. Transfer to Washington. Transfer to Jefferson. No one at Midtown is going to let you play their reindeer games.”

Cindy Moon was a real friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatchdogs and Diet Cokeheads. Killing Liz’d be like offing the Wicked Witch of the West. Or is it East? West! I sound like a fucking psycho. Tomorrow I’ll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Liz. A world where I am free. 

You couldn’t help but fling your diary across the room, the satisfying thud from it hitting the wall beside your window soothing you as you wallowed in anger. You gasp as you hear a sound at the window, looking up, you tear off your glasses and make eye contact with one Peter Parker. 

“Dreadful etiquette, I apologize.” 

“It’s okay...” You replied breathlessly.

“I saw the croquet set out back, you up for a match?”

Your heart was still racing, however instead of the initial shock, it was now revving up with anxiety as you looked at the boy in your bedroom. Was he even really there? Or was he just an anger fueled hallucination?

“Sure. But I’m blue.”

Dear Diary,

When did my life become reminiscent of a YA novel? When did I come to believe it wasn’t weird that Peter Parker was coming through my window? Did Twilight finally condition me into believing odd behavior was true romance?

“Now I can see why you looked so mangled when I came up.” Peter shook his head, his voice soft. 

You shifted so that your head was on his bare chest, your eyes focused on the pile of his clothes that sat beside him. 

“I’ve always treated Liz’s drama queen plays as bullshit, but I’m honestly really scared. Who am I going to sit with at lunch on Monday?” You groaned, leaning back onto the grass, the blades pricking your bare shoulders. “God, I sound like I’m from Riverdale.” 

“Are girls really that bad?” 

“It’s a dog eat dog world.” You shrugged. “It feels like it’s either kill yourself or get told to kill yourself.”

“Geez.” Peter shook his head. “That was my first game of strip croquet, by the way. I thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s a lot more interesting than flinging your clothes off and going at it on a neighbor’s swing set.”

“Well, I don’t know, there’s something to be said for- ouch!” 

You chuckled as the blue mallet that was stuck in the ground fell over and hit the boy. He handed you your panties that fell along with the mallet before sliding on his own underwear. 

“What a night.” You giggled, slipping on your panties as you kissed him softly and stood up. “What a life. I almost moved into high school right out of sixth grade because I was some sort of genius. But of course, my mother was too scared I wouldn’t make friends, so we chucked the idea and blah, blah, blah.”

You searched the yard for your clothes, cursing Peter silently for allowing you to toss them around instead of into a neat pile like he had done. You picked up your shirt and pants, gathering up your socks and slippers before putting them on as you spoke.

“But now blah-blah-blah is all I ever do. I use my grand I.Q. to decide what shade of lip gloss to buy and how to hit three keggers before curfew. Some genius.” 

“Liz Allan is one bitch that deserves to die.” Peter blurted out, making it clear he wasn’t listening to you. 

“Killing her won’t solve anything.”

“A well time lighting bolt on her walk into school on Monday morning, all the other Elizabeths, shit, the whole school, would be cut loose.”

“Well, then, I will pray for rain.” You chuckled. “A flowerpot falling from the window sill would work just as well, more likely to happen too.”

“You see those condoms in the grass? We killed it tonight, Y/n. We killed our baby.” 

“Hey, it was good for me too, imbecile.”

“I’m just saying. It’s not hard to end a life.”

“There’s a big difference between killing the prom queen and busting into a condom.”

You both laugh as Peter finally starts getting dressed. 

“I guess I don’t know what I’m talking about. After all, there’s only one genius here.”

“I know exactly what the hell you’re talking about and you’re right, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Why don’t we just graduate, grow old and be adults, and then die?” 

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“But before we do that, I want to see Liz Allan spew chunks so we can call it even.”

_____________________

Tagged: @thewinchesterchronicles @spookyanairwin @audreylovespidey706 @asonofpeter​ @halparkebitch​

message me to be added to the taglist!

[dilfdoctordoom]

👀 give me all your thoughts I know you have them

Bette Kane

How I feel about this character: She is my everything. I love nobody as much as I love her. I am at all times thinking about Bette Kane

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Dawn, Hank, Charley, Barbara, Helena, Artemis, Donna & I think she & Luke Fox dated for a little bit in high school before deciding to be just friends

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Gar!!! Her & Gar are best friends & they shouldn’t be romantic

My unpopular opinion about this character: Don’t know if she’s known enough to have any unpopular opinions, but bitchy Bette Kane should be brought back. They defanged her a lot & I don’t like it, let her be the worst it was really funny

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I really wish that in the N52 Batwoman series, the Kate&Bette dynamic was changed so while Kate had all her military training & was older, Bette had more vigilante experience & they had to learn to work together & learn from each other

my OTP: Hank/Dawn/Bette has a special place in my heart, I’m an eternal sucker for ArtyBette, but when it comes down to it... Bettenelli is simply superior

my cross over ship: *looking pointedly at my drafts* well gee I guess I think her & Danny Rand would have a fun dynamic. Also, Betty Brant for that good ole hero/reporter dynamic

a headcanon fact: she’s bisexual, she is, it’s a fact

Danny Rand

How I feel about this character: I’ve only recently gotten into Iron Fist comics but listen. LISTEN. He’s the love of my life, okay? Got it? I would die for this dumbass idiot disaster man

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Luke, Luke&Jess, Misty, Brenda because I thought they were just funny, Matt, I read a surprisingly good Peter fic so hm. Something there

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Colleen. I know they’re the main romance of the Netflix series, I know they had a thing for a little bit in the comics, but shut up, she’s his exhausted best friend

My unpopular opinion about this character: He’s not annoying. After Netflix, I think that’s an unpopular opinion

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish his TV show didn’t suck balls. I wish that The Living Weapon wasn’t canon (but Pei & Brenda stick around). I wish Marvel would pull the trigger & admit that he & Luke are in love

my OTP: Danny/Misty because they’re cute okay shut up Danny really loves her!!! & obviously Jess/Luke/Danny but in that specific order. Jess & Danny are both dating Luke but they aren’t dating each other, they’re just bffs

my cross over ship: The one mentioned above but also, in whatever universe where DC & Marvel are co-existing, I think he had a fling with Oliver Queen before Ollie went to the island

a headcanon fact: He’s Asian-American. Fuck Marvel

Felicia Hardy

How I feel about this character: My mean wife. I would let her murder me without any hesitation she’s so pretty

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Peter, MJ & Cindy. Matt is allowed but only if it’s a disaster. Danny Rand has a crush on her which she thinks is adorable

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Johnny!!!! They’re funny little shits & they should be allowed to get in more hijinks together. All the Marvel Divas, I like Felicia having friends

My unpopular opinion about this character: Plot twist assholes she was in love with Peter Parker the entire goddamn time re: everyone who keeps trying to insist that Felicia has only ever loved Spider-Man. Shut up, they’re the same goddamn person & Felicia loves him 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish Dan Slott had never come anywhere near her

my OTP: PeterFelicia is cute, okay. SilkCat is where it’s at though. Cindy & Felicia... soulmates

my cross over ship: Jessica Cruz or Dick Grayson because she likes dorks but only if they’re pretty

a headcanon fact: I was gonna put that she’s bi, but that is canon & Marvel has just ignored it so. Hm. Dan Slott never happened to her, this lady was never the queen pin of crime

MJ Watson

How I feel about this character: I love her so much... angel... sweetie... darling...

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Peter, Felicia & Gwen, some goddamn respect

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Harry

My unpopular opinion about this character: All opinions about MJ are inherently unpopular (as she would want) but Marvel should stop moving her away from the arts re: her being a reporter in PS4, that weird nightclub thing, etc. I’d say TAMJ was a step in the right direction except I hate that book so :/

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish she was still married to Peter. Also, that she’d get her own MJ-As-Spider-Woman AU. Or MJ as a superhero in general

my OTP: GwenMJ & PeterMJ & especially PeterGwenMJ

my cross over ship: MJ Waston date Koriand’r challenge

a headcanon fact: She is not straight. Or cis, for that matter

Peter Parker

How I feel about this character: Look at the little bastard man off to do his little bastard things... will he make good choices? No! Will I continue to support him regardless? Yes!

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Okay, here we go, damn: Johnny, MJ, Gwen, Harry, Flash, Ned in the MCU shut up we all know why it isn’t popular (see: racism), he’s definitely at least made out with Bobby, more that I can’t think of right now, Felicia Hardy

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Matt Murdock. No, shut up, their friendship is important to me specifically, they just love each other a lot, okay? And it’s unconditional &nstupid & they’re dumb & I love them. Jessica Jones, too, because I think the idea of her having a crush on him in high school & local hoe Peter Parker not noticing is funny

My unpopular opinion about this character: The only consistently good Spider-Man series in the past, like, decade is FNSM

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: In a very specific thing, I wish that Peter had picked up the phone & called Matt in the Sins Rising arc because Daredevil was such an important part of that original arc & I dunno, it just doesn’t work & it would’ve been really interesting to put Matt back in the role he played in the original story especially with where Matt is in her own series, ya know?

my OTP: SpideyTorch & PeterMJ

my cross over ship: okay, concept here: Kyle Rayner & Peter Parker

a headcanon fact: bider-man, bider-man, does whatever a bi spider can...

Elektra Natchios

How I feel about this character: Murder wife, has never done anything wrong in her entire life

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Matt & Nat

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Logan!!! They’re best friends

My unpopular opinion about this character: @ Daredevil tv series fans please just say you’re racist & leave

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish she never met Frank Castle. I wish she had female friends for a change

my OTP: Nat/Elektra. Love Matt but he & Elektra aren’t endgame even though it kills me violently to admit that

my cross over ship: Talia Al Ghul. I will not elaborate

a headcanon fact: aside from the obvious ‘she’s bi’, I think Elektra has a dog

Matt Murdock

How I feel about this character: Himbo idiot love of my life make a good decision I love you

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Elektra, Foggy, Danny, Luke, Kirsten & Mila

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Peter (see: above), Luke, Nat, Jessica, I think it’s very funny when you put him in the same room as Moon Knight & Felicia

My unpopular opinion about this character: He’s disabled, you idiots, that actually does affect his day-to-day life

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish he’d go to therapy, no, Matthew, confession does not count

my OTP: Matt/Elektra, Matt/Foggy & Matt/Kirsten

my cross over ship: I wanna say Hal Jordan... specifically after the Spectre I think that’d be funny, if Hal just casually drops that literal, actual god was basically his boss for a while

a headcanon fact: he gets mistaken for Scott Summers a lot

[cannibal-wings]

What's your favorite version of spiderman outside the comic? Also why mcu is your least favorite. Just curious, not looking to stir hate or drama

Oh gosh, anon you’re fine.It’s almost midnight and I get to talk about Spider-Man opinions, lets go.So first off, I know you didn’t ask, but for the record my favorite version of 616 comics Peter is the JMS run of Amazing Spider-Man. It starts on issue #30 legacy number is issue #471. Sorry I don’t know how the “volumes” are divided out in Spider-Man books. If you’re reading online its issue 30 of the 1999 section. The run lasts until the infamous One More Day story line (which is a rant for another day.) It has some of my favorite Spider-Man stories in it, the first appearance of Morlun, the whole “The Other” story line and Back in Black which are personal favorites. I really enjoyed how he wrote Peter and MJ, how clearly passionate they are for each other, I liked how angry and full of emotion Peter is, that he gets wine drunk and talks with spiders. I loved the extra powers he got and how they talk about and deal with the relationship he has with his powers. Its a great run and everyone should read it. For my favorite movie Peter well... the original trilogy holds a special place in my heart, Spider-Man 2 is my all time favorite Spider-Man movie. Nothing has ever beaten it in my eyes. That Doc Ock is perfect. I will drop anything if someone says “hey wanna watch Spider-Man 2?”. However, my all time favorite rendition of Peter and his friends is the Amazing Spider-Man movies. They did such a good job with how Peter, Gwen, and Flash interact. The best by far. There were so many little things that just showed that they get it. I’m really fond of how Peter was played, and how Aunt May was played. There are scenes in those two movies where everything is just perfect. Another version of Spider-Man that was done really fucking well was the recent PS4 game Marvel’s Spider-Man. Without spoiling the plot, since it’s still a fairly recent game... just, everyone was written beautifully and gut-wrenchingly well. The MJ was great, May was fantastic (wow what a good depiction of FEAST), Peter was written and performed so well I cried, again another stellar Octavius. Everything felt great from the social media to the quips. So, why don’t I like MCU Peter? Or MCU Spider-Man as a whole.My number one complaint is how everyone is depicted. None of the side characters feel like the characters they are named after. I get what they were trying to do, but boy does it just not work with me. I think the only character I sorta like was MJ out of the whole bunch. The character that upsets me the most is Ned. You have to understand, coming from the comics, Ned Leeds is an awful person. He canonically abuses his wife Betty Brant, he’s the villain Hobgoblin, he’s just, not a great dude. And to name Peter’s best friend fucking Ned Leeds is just... I can’t ignore it. And in Far From Home, when they had him and that version of Betty date, it was just, upsetting and pulled me right out of the movie. And I know many people don’t read the comics. They have no idea. But I just... I see people talking about how great Ned Leeds is and how cute Ned/Betty is and I just cringe. I understand they’re talking MCU but god what whiplash they must feel if they ever try to look up the character they love in the comics because boy they’re in for a shock.

Flash Thompson is my favorite Spider-Man character next to MJ and I really, really, really do not like the MCU Flash. It’s not the actor, he’s fine, it’s the personality and way they wrote him that just... bothers me. In the comics he has a huge problem with alcoholism, even as early as high school, so to see them make a drinking joke with that character just... can we not?Other people have talked at length about this version of Peter, and I understand that the MCU is tied to Tony Stark in a way that can’t be diminished. But it bothers me to no end that Peter’s character revolves around Tony Stark. His suit was given to him by Stark, the tech is all Stark, his motivation is Stark, everything is Tony and I don’t like it. It honestly feels like he’s just Tony Stark Jr. and not Peter Parker. I know in Far From Home they make a point to have Happy say he’ll never be Tony, but the writing sure as shit seems to say otherwise. I have huge issues with how often MCU Peter unmasks. To like, everyone. In the comics he doesn’t even unmask when he’s on the official Avengers Team, and publicly unmasking (at Tony’s request/demand I might add) is what ruins his life to the point where OMD happens, (again a rant for another day). So to see him unmask all the damn time just bugs the absolute shit out of me.

He’s not shown making his own tech, (yes I know there’s a shot of him dumpster diving in Civil War but come on, I’m supposed to be happy with scraps?) he’s handed most of his tech from Stark, we don’t see him directly making things and I won’t count the little bit where he’s being mini Iron Man in FFH. I guess we can sorta count when he took apart that drone in FFH at the very end but again, scraps. I really enjoy scenes were Peter is shown building his own stuff and testing it.

I don’t like his stupid SHIELD outfit from Far From Home, I think it looks too much like a military/police outfit, which makes sense it was made by a military group. This is a minor complaint, I just don’t like the suit. lmao.I don’t like that Peter was given access to drones with a kill mode, I don’t like that his suit has a kill mode. His whole character is supposed to be centered around not killing. And these things just... they just add up? You know?

I don’t like that Uncle Ben is not mentioned ONCE in either of his two solo films. Ben is such an integral part to who Peter is and why he does what he does that to have him absent is just... It should have been Uncle Ben climbing out of that grave in Far From Home. The whole “father” dynamic with Stark is just... Peter Parker has a father and his name is Ben Parker!

All the villains he fights in his solo films are just people scorned by Stark. He’s fighting Stark’s battles for him and they don’t feel like Peter’s bad guys. It’s a lot of little things that just add up with me. From the way his friends are portrayed to the way that they gave a kid whose family is a victim of gun violence access to weapons is just..... Overall these things make the MCU take on Spider-Man my least favorite. Ok, I should stop talking, I’ve written too much.......

[geekygoddesss]

Caught you

Summary: Rory’s life couldn’t be more boring, but who would have thought a simple discovery would make her life turn weirder and weirder. 

Words: 8.6k

A. Note: This is the first part of my series “Atypical”! you can find it here and on wattpad. I am so excited for it and I hope you love it.

Atypical Masterlist 

"Retreat day yay!" I exclaim very loudly as I walk up to the crowd of people that were starting to form in front of the yellow bus.

A few looks turn to my direction as I walk up to my dear classmates and join them all as they wait for this day to start. Retreat day was a highly anticipated day or so I've heard, it could be either incredibly fun or really boring, which from those two options, I was aiming for the second one. No good retreat could come out of an English class and not with all these assholes I call classmates.

A hand falls on my shoulder and squeezes it a bit. I turn to look at the teacher, who I recognize better as my uncle but decided for the collective good not to act like he is when being around the school. He is smiling down at me and looking as fresh as he does most days.

"Good, that is good, now say it like you mean it" He says raising his eyebrows at me, almost expecting for me to actually be excited.

A sarcastic laugh leaves my lips "Funny, I kinda mean it" I shrug.

"Do you?" he asks, surprisingly taking in my attitude better than other times.

"No" I shake my head as my smile drops and my lips are press together. There is literally a million other stuff that I'd rather do other than going on a school retreat.

"Ah, Ro, it's not that bad, I thought you loved museums, you did really great on the last essay, I thought this would excite you a little more" He said shaking his head a little, I know he was expecting me to like this whole thing and I did like the museum, a lot, it was just the timing, the people, the fact I have not slept in two days. I did not feel like going at all.

"I do, but really, today I just want to stay home" I say, shrugging as my uncle gives a sigh and squeezes my shoulder again, letting a silent 'it's okay' float between both of us.

"it's alright Mr. Harrington, she wouldn't be excited about something if she tried" said a voice from behind me and my nerves spike up. If that wasn't my archenemy I don't know who was, I would recognize that voice anywhere and at any time, it would make me feel as sick as it does right now.

I slowly turn around, making sure I was being dramatic enough as I took a good glance to the worst person I have ever met ever since I joined this high school, Betty the witch Brant, on all of her glory.

God damn, I hate her.

I shoot a big fake smile at her because it's what I do better when she is around, pretending it doesn't pain my guts that she's here talking to me. I wanna laugh at her comment, because it is just so funny that the one person that shows herself up in a screen with an ass face every morning comes up to me saying that, I guess that reminded me why I hate her so damn much.

"You are telling me I don't have excitement?" I say, pointing at her as I speak.

She crosses her arms above her chest giving me a tired look. "I am telling you that you should be grateful Mr. Harrington is even considering to take you on this trip seeing that you talk like you'd like to jump off the window anytime" She says with that bored and annoying voice that made me want to slap her so bad.

"That is not wrong, I would love to do that, no doubt I will if I have to listen to your voice all the way there" I laugh, mimicking her as I cross my arms over my chest too, shooting a look at her, a look that says 'Go the fuck out of my sight, I bite'.

"Maybe you should pay attention to the things I say, you could catch some of that, maybe it will give you some spirit to, you know..." She says eyeing me up at down, scanning me carefully to then mumble "Be normal"

I look down at myself. If she was really trying to make me feel bad about myself, she was really wasting her time, because if we need to start comparing, I look better than her and anyone who thought otherwise could go take a hike. I like me and like how I look, I love wearing leather jackets and boots, I love dark clothes and I love everything that resembled the past two, Betty Brant was not about to make me feel any less confident because of it.

"Oh gosh, now she is telling me to catch spirit from her, this is so funny" I exclaim as I take a step back and let a giggle come out of my lips, as I laugh at her with total sarcasm on my voice "Says the only girl who bring the real joy to this school every morning on the news, really, Betty, you inspire me, my tired face never looked better" I snap at her, making really handsy moves while a speak to give some drama to all this.

She does not really react to anything I am saying, her face remains still as I speak, totally pretending not to care, but I can see in her eyes, she cares what I am saying because there's that little something that flickers in her eyes when I finish talking, She hates me even more as the time passes, Good. if she had some kind of laser eyes I would be so dead right now, thank god she doesn't, but I don't care, if I had to die anytime soon, I wouldn't mind to die after telling Betty she's a bitch.

"at least I care for the school and do something that's actually helpful, People like me, so jokes on you Rory" she says, with that arrogant smile on her face that I hate so much "the level of joy I bring to this place is more than you ever will in your whole life"

"My fish had more spirit that you and it is dead" I say, heavily glaring at her while she threw a look at me, a look with pure fire in it.

"Girls, enough" said my Uncle stepping between us and making me give a step back.

Betty doesn't say anything else, I am pretty sure she has nothing in mind to get back to me, she is probably trying to think of something to make me feel bad but can't really get her finger on something that will get to me, so she just glares and turns around, walking straight to the bus along with her minions. Good, I hated to have her around.

"Rory, we talked about this, no fights, no arguing, no mean comments" I hear my uncle say in the background as I watch my archenemy walk away. I turn to look at him, he is really serious with what he's saying and I don't blame him, I know he doesn't like the fact that sometimes I tended to be like this to people, but really, it wasn't my fault Betty is such a bitch to me.

"I never do any of those" I say shrugging, trying to look as careless as I can  "She gets on my nerves" I excuse, like if that was going to really get me out a pep talk I've had already tons of times.

"I know but you know how kids are, sometimes things can be touchy so, self-control, got that?" he said sighing, now a bit frustrated at my attitude.

"Yeah Yeah" I nod and give him thumbs up  "Self-control, blah blah whatever"

he presses his lips together like if he is trying to think of something else to say to me but one of the other teachers call his name from afar, he knows there is no time for peep talk and I am really happy for it, I don't need it right now.

"I want you in the bus in 10 and you are sitting next to me, got it?" He says, palming my back as he walks past me "We don't need you arguing with anyone"

"As if I am planning on talking to someone" I scoff as I watch him walk away from me.

"light up, Rory, it'll be fun!" he says with a small smile, now disappearing into to the small crowd of people.

I contemplate the option of just getting into the bus all by myself since my only companion is now gone, I should do it, but I don't want any kind of rumors spreading about what the heck I was doing in the bus alone while everyone was waiting for the driver to come back, there was enough fake news about me around, I don't need another one. I walk to the stairs in front of the school and just take a seat there by myself, under the sun, waiting for the dumb driver to come back and lead us to another boring day of school.

I wait patiently, watching the people from my class hang around the bus, they laugh and talk to each other, some of them already excited for the trip and others really not looking forward to it at all, like myself, with a slight difference, at least they had a companion for the occasion, I didn't.

There was a lot of mixed opinions on why me - Rory, ex-cheerleader, ex-popular kid and last but not least, former mathematics leader- had no friends in school, most of these stories came from people who didn't really know me at all and at some point in life just decided they didn't like me and starting making stories, which a lot of people decided to believe and little by little I started to be more lonely every time, but if you asked me what the true facts of all of these made up stories are, I would tell you none of these are true. There is only one reason and the only truth is that I just like being alone, as simple as that. Is that so bad?.

"You're still here!" I hear a voice say in my direction, the only voice I cared about and felt some sort of relieving to hear  "I thought you were already getting lost in the art and all of that nonsense you love"

"Art isn't nonsense" I say to my only friend, as I roll my eyes to her in a total non-sarcastic way.

After all of those rumors that go around me in the school, I was lucky enough to have one person who decided not to believe all of that bullshit and stood by my side in every moment. My best friend and savior, Allison Ghannam, the only person I trust in this place.

"Right" She says at me with a very casual smile as she steps in front of me. "What happened? Why are you still here"

I cover my eyes from the sun to look up at her, she looked genuinely excited today, I don't know why but she does, Her cloth-covered head dressed in a color I have never seen before on her, a vivid, bright and happy color, and her eyes reflected something that told me, she clearly woke up on the right side of the bed this morning, she was in a good mood, I wasn't. Somehow I wished she could give me some of that right now.

"The driver went to the cafeteria to grab a bite or something, we will be gone soon" I say with a shrug as I move to my side and pat the spot beside me for her to sit on.

"Why the long face then, my friend?" She says, leaving her backpack down and sitting my side "Here, I brought you an apple pie" she says passing me the paper bag in her hand and my heart melts, this was too nice from her, I don't deserve it.

"Thanks" I say with a small smile as I take the bag and dig in for my apple pie "by the way, it's not a long face, it's just my face" I mock as I take the first bite. It is delicious.

"I can see that" she says rolling her eyes at me a little and turning to look at the people in front of the yellow bus, her face lighting up when she spots my uncle in between the crowd. It's crazy how good these two get along.

"Looking good Mr. Harrington!" she calls, waving at my uncle, who smiles at her and waves back "Red is really your color" she compliments and I mentally slap myself for not noticing, because he is suiting a brand new Jacket today and I was too busy worrying about other things that I forgot to mention that he indeed, looks good.

"Thanks, Ally, are you not coming with today? There's plenty of spots" He says loud enough for us to hear and pointing at the entrance of the bus behind him.

"No, thank you, sir, I actually have a test today and I really can't miss it" She shrugs a little and shakes her head. I hate the fact that she actually has an excuse to miss the retreat because I was really counting on the fact she would come over with us.

"Ah that's a shame, Rory could use a little company today" He says from afar, looking at me for a short second.

"I know, sir, but Duty calls, I can't miss it" She shrugs again in a small apology

He shakes his head, really not liking the fact that I am going to be alone on this trip but still facing it, because there was really nothing he could do about this "Well, good luck" he says, turning to the bus and walking back towards the group of teachers there.

Ally waves goodbye, giving a final smile to my uncle as I turn to look at her. Really, when you only have one friend in the whole school, having to go anywhere alone sucked really bad especially on this kind of situations, where I had no other options to be away with people I don't like for the entire day.

"It really pains me that you are leaving me alone on this" I say to her with a pout on my lips. I meant it, I hated to be alone on this, today.

"We weren't born together my friend" she nudges me and gives me a comforting smile.

"I know that but seriously, it's a forty minute trip, Ally, on a bus, no one likes me there-"

"You will be fine" she interrupts me, waving away my words and bad vibes "It's not that long, you can make it" she says in a cheery voice.

"Betty god damn Brant will be there" I whine and roll my head back in a clear whine, something that expressed my pain completely.

"It's just one person" She says shrugging and still keeping a smile on her face.

"That carries a bunch of parasites, including herself"

"Ro, you will be fine" she laughs and rounds her arms around my shoulders in support "its just a day" she comforts and I wish that those words had some kind on effect on me, because right now they really weren't, I was still as unmotivated as I was before.

"a long day" I whine leaning my head on her shoulder and closing my eyes, looking for some of her happy vibes to pass onto me but it is clearly not working and I feel just a bit desperate.

"Okay, you're grumpy, I get it, geez" She laughs and I feel her shake her head at me.

I mock her, moving my mouth and mimicking her last words with a small and high pitch voice that did not resemble hers at all, but I knew this annoyed her so I did it. Her hand pinches my arm at my mockery and I whine, instantly killing down my mood and making me quiet down.

"Is that a new Hijab?" I ask her, changing the topic, trying to establish a normal conversation.

"Yeah, my mom got it for me, you like it?" She says with a smile, touching a piece of the sky blue silky fabric with the tip of her fingers.

"No, the fabric feels incredibly hot and it's almost summer, you're insane" I say, not being totally serious and touching a little piece of the fabric too. I have always loved this shade of blue, even now when this fabric felt way too hot under this weather "but the color suit you terribly well, you look really pretty" I compliment her and she laughs, taking the compliment with a smile.

"Thanks" she says, totally proud of her color choice for the day "You can borrow it" she says nudging me a little.

"I'll consider it" I chuckle, sitting up straight now to look at her. "I'm gonna miss you" I whine and go to hug her.

She makes her short and sweet and hugs me for a second to then push me away and roll her eyes. "Stop crying" she chuckles at my attitude."You can tell me everything about how it went later, I'll pick up sushi tonight, so I expect you to be in my place at-"

"9" I say. it was Friday today and it was our night for hanging out and eat whatever, but it was no secret that Ally was a punctuality freak and I was always just a bit late to stuff, it was always better to make a deal where I could be on time and she wasn't going crazy at 'how late I was'.

"8:30, sharp" she points at me, getting up from her spot and picking her backpack off the floor.

"I'll do my best" I shrug. Not that I had something to do at that time, but really, being on time wasn't one of my talents.

the bell rings. Oh crap.

"You better" she laughs, rolling her eyes at me and starting to walk her way to the school and away from me. "Good luck on your trip, love you" she says to me, blowing a kiss as she picks up the pace to the insides of the school.

"Love you too I guess" I yell, waving back at her as she leaves  "Good luck on your test"

"I'll need it!" she yells back and before I can even notice, I am alone again.

Alone in this really boring day to come. What a luck I have.

By the time I got in that bus, I knew this was going to be the longest ride of my life.

Not only I got to sit beside my uncle, who was just stressing over every little thing around while trying to control the crowd of teenagers all trapped inside of the bus, but from my sit I could still hear Betty's voice, telling the most ridiculous, underwhelming and bland stories I've ever heard in my life, and that was what my trip was meant to be for the next half an hour or so. The ride was too long and painful. I mentally slapped myself various times for not remembering to bring a god damn pair of headphones along with me, to at least conceal the world around me as the trip went on, Instead I had to sit there and listen to not only my arch enemy's 'adventures' but to hear one of the many peep talks my uncle likes to give me from time to time but never on the right occasion, something about being nice and make friends, not only that but also adding a very detailed lesson on how to treat with others while in high school, like if an adult was allowed to give advice about it, I've said this before and I say it now, once you are past thirty, you are out of the young club and my uncle was definitely out and not qualified for this kind of things.

It was a long trip and I was hating every second of it, but I could thank the fact that it was a hint more bearable than I was imagining it because, on the contrary, I would have definitely thrown myself out of that window if that what it took to escape this small portion of hell.

Arriving at the museum was somehow... relieving, not only because finally, stepping out of the bus felt like walking out of a cage, but because this place felt like home to me, a second home that always welcomed me in a really nice way and I would never get tired of it. If only all of my companions knew how to properly appreciate this place, a shame that most of them barely knew what they were looking at, a temple of art, that's what this is. Deep down, I hoped for some of them to have the same appreciation for all of these as I have, or else, I would hate to feel like the trip my uncle planned for so long was just a waste of time.

After an hour of entering the museum, I didn't know if to classify it as a waste of time or if to pat my uncle on the back for doing such a good job with all this. It hasn't gone as bad as I anticipated. Some people showed real interest in the art, while others respectfully sat on the back of everything and decided to ignore all of the tour guide's explanations, which I honestly felt like it was a shame because most of this stories were too damn interesting and these pieces deserved all of the attention. On my side though, I felt bad for being one of those people who just did not want to be there, it felt so unlike me but i couldn't help it, after being at this place so many times I just knew all of it, not wanting to be a smartass, but I knew exactly what the tour guide said and what she was about to say, I've been here many times, I just know it and hearing it for what felt like the thousand times was not making me any sort of entertaining, It gets a little repetitive.

I just really needed a break.

That's why on the way to the second floor of the tour, one way or another I managed to slip out of the small crowd of high school students and just escape, not really caring if my uncle even saw me or not, I walked right out, I needed a minute alone.

I walk to the entrance of the museum, almost running my way past all the people until I reached the stairs on the front of the main doors and sat down on one of them, Lucky enough, I did not hear my name being called on my way out, so I knew I did a magnificent job sneaking out and now had about thirty minutes (or maybe twenty) until someone realized I wasn't there, but I didn't care, I knew I wouldn't get in trouble, I wasn't getting lost anyways.

I take a deep breath, a tension relieving my shoulders as I savor my moment alone, finally being able to properly breathe without about 50 people around me. This was my moment, I dig in my pocket, my mind tickling in excitement for what is to be my first treat of the day, I pull out the pack of mint cigarettes from my pocket and with a few swift moves I already knew by heart, I was taking the greatest advantage of my solitude while I could. The first drag felt like heaven, just like it should be every day.

I've been into this habit for about two years, maybe less, and the fact that I killed me every time I did it was not stopping me from doing it at all. Oddly, I enjoyed it, even when I knew how bad it was, It was my little guilty pleasure and I would enjoy it until I felt it was enough.

"oh la la, lady, you're missing the tour" I heard a voice say to me directly on my back, as I blew away my first cloud of poison, totally ruining my small moment of relaxation and making me curse under my breathe.

"Get lost Flash" I groan, placing the cigarette between my lips and leaving it there, taking along and deep breath in with it. Hopefully, it will relax me a little more now that my peace has been broken.

Flash, the most annoying guy of the school and my classmate since forever, sat beside me with a smile on his face, slightly violating my personal space and making mind fume at his unspoken annoyance, only the fact of having him around was annoying.

I glare heavily sending him hell with my eyes and telling him to go anywhere but here.

he laughs with sarcasm on his voice "You know this is the street right? I think I am allowed as a citizen to sit on a public-"

"You are and yes you can sit wherever, but not with me" I cut him off, rolling my eyes and moving away from him just a bit, trying to get back some of my personal space.

"C'mon Rory, that's a bit harsh isn't it?" he says shaking head and sliding closer again "Can I have one of those?" he whispers to me, I can sense that small desperation on his voice, that let me know that he meant this but still has never smoked before, which also meant, he wanted to blend in or just look cool in my eyes or.. someone's eyes I guess.

I blow smoke on his face, he coughs "I mean it, get lost" I say, bumping my shoulder with his, trying to get him to catch the hint and slide away.

"I'm trying to be friendly here, ok?" he says, still coughing a little and not moving an inch away "A little company never hurts" he says to me and smiles. I don't think anyone would ever like his company.

"Okay" I shrug, deciding to try and ignore him.

"I see you around all of the time and you wanna know what I see?" he tries to start up a conversation and getting all comfy in there.

"No?" I mumble, smoking a bit more, looking away at the streets of new york, just concentrating on anything but him.

"I see a loner" he says, nothing that I don't know already, I stay silent  "Why is that Rory?" he asks making his voice change as he speaks. His hand raises up and caresses my cheek softly "Such a pretty face doesn't deserve that"

"Gross" I say flinching back, throwing a look at him.

"See, I get how you feel" he keeps going, ignoring my gestures of disgust while speaking "Sometimes I feel like the world doesn't really get me, people talk, they say good things, bad things, but what I really need for me and what keeps me going is to have someone I can talk to"

my eyebrow raises "Are you trying to tell me you...?"

"I think we can be good friends, Rory" he says with a weird smile on his face "Something more if you let me" He tries to reach for my hand but I move it away, quickly.

"Last year you spread the rumor I was selling weed to all of your friends and I almost got spelled" I say with certain anger in my voice, a hint of mockery behind my words  "Not only that but accused me of "breaking" your ankle last spring and for that I got suspended from the cheerleading team" I say, his face losing that smile as I talk "Do you really think I would ever think of going somewhere with you?"

Everything I said was true, I had no interest for someone who just ruined one of the things I loved the most and on top of that, also liked to invent rumors of other people based on things that weren't true. Flash could go eat shit.

"Okay, first of all, I am completely sure it was you who stepped on my foot that day" he says in his own defense.

"And I am completely sure it was you who was taking pictures of my ass behind my back" I glance at him with a big frown.

"Rory that was- pff, that wasn't me, not anymore" he excuses, forcing a smile and trying to hug me from the side "I am a different person now"

"Are you? Are you really?" I say trying to shake him off my shoulders.

"Let me take you out" he says, again, totally ignoring my complains "Tomorrow after school, I'll take you to the red lobster, I've heard you love it, We can go bowling after that, take a walk around the city, get ice cream, It will be really great, we could even-"

As he keeps on speaking I look around for any kind of help I can have to send him off my sight, immediately, but not one familiar face is around, instead, I see a giant woman approaching my way, one that wore the security's uniform and was directly looking at my way. a flash of panic slashes in my head, If my uncle found out and told me, parents... shit.

"Oh crap" I say, moving away from Flash and hiding my hand with the cigarette to a spot that was somehow out of sight "Flash, shush" I tell him, looking away and acting natural.

"What? what? what?" he says in panic at my change of attitude "You don't like it, because I can totally change it, I get it, you might like to go a little edgier, Um, we could go hiking, at night, Fun right?"

"Shut up" I groan to him in a deep mumble.

My heart skips a beat when a hand taps my shoulder twice.

"Excuse me" says a deep woman's voice beside me. Flash turns around and looks up at her, but she doesn't acknowledge him, she's waiting for my response.

"Shit" I say under my breath as I turn around and putting my best casual smile on my face "Hello"

a fake smile appears on her face, letting me know that she was not in the mood today even when I haven't said a thing at all, yet. She points at the hidden hand beside my leg and with a fake kind smile she says "I'm gonna have to ask you to lose that, ma'am, we don't allow smoking in this facility"

I smile a bit more as I say "But I'm not in the facility" I say looking around "This is the street"

"Allow me to reiterate that" she hawks and says one more time "This area is museum property and smoking is forbidden, also, I can see you are clearly underage so unless you want me to call your guardians, I'm going to ask you to lose that"

I wish I had the words to get around it, but seeing that walking away from here was basically asking for trouble and that calling my parents would be literally the death of me, I smash my cigarette down on the concrete beneath my feet and step on it "Fine" I groan, tapping my foot on the cigarette. My addiction was still tickling inside of me, this was just like if someone had given me candy and then took it away from me, so mean.

"so um, Can you tell me where the smoking area is, uh.." I ask looking up to the woman and looking at the batch in her shirt "Karol" I say with a small smile on my lips.

"That would be the park" She says now standing up straight and walking away from me.

I curse under my breath, there is no park nearby.

Bitch, just... bitch.

I turn to my side, to find Flash still beside me and with raised eyebrows, looking at my pissed face and then smiling, as if that was going to make me feel better. Now I definitely did not want to deal with him.

"Honestly, get lost" I snap at him, Turning my back on him and waiting for him to react.

"So what about lunch?" he keeps on totally getting past my annoyance "We can grab lunch together-"

"Goodbye" I say in a very angry tone. Walking as far away from him and into the museum to get lost myself.

This day just kept getting better and better.

Flash could go to hell along with all of his friends and bad quality flirting, that's pretty much how I can sum up my feeling about this whole situation. Something about him really trying to get me to like him and also trying to get me past the fact he has done things that really make me despise him more and more all of the time, oh gosh, it makes me want to go back and kick him in the face, he was awful and stupid and an arrogant ass who really put himself in a pedestal that no one cared about. Flash can suck a dick.

My head is throbbing and my hands fidget as I walk around the museum, half hoping to run into my class but also hoping to not, because that only meant finding Flash again and him talking to me, I would very much like to avoid that at any costs.

I walk around the familiar hallways, from time to time stopping to see the art and the others to keep walking and pretend I am looking for my class and I got lost, which is obviously not true. However, on the inside, my head was killing me and I would give anything to just go out there and smoke. I know this is a sign, that I was getting too anxious for an addiction that was over me at a young age but it wasn't completely about the cigarette at all, it was more about the fact that I started something and never finished, that was getting on my nerves and driving me crazy and if smoking a cigarette would make that tone down, then fuck me, I need to smoke.

I take the elevator, the one that is usually only available for certain people that were obviously not high school students with bad habits, but luckily no one noticed me, I just get in and press a button up, waiting for the doors to close and get me where I need to go, quickly.

I could say I know this place like the palm of my hands, When the elevator opened all I had to do is lead myself through a couple of hallways that were nearly empty, which was understandable, it was still early for people to come to the museum, so it was easier for me to avoid any kind of thing that slowed me down, I just walked right in, slid past the security man -which is easier than it sounds like- that guarded the area I was aiming for and carefully, closed the door behind me and closed my eyes at the quietness and stillness of the place.

The gardens. My favorite place in the world.

This was the kind of place that only opened at a certain time of the day to the public, but it really didn't matter what time it was, it was always as beautiful as the minute before. My favorite place. I wish I could stay here for the rest of the morning and enjoy the day here instead of going back with the class but unfortunately, my time here was limited and I would use it for what it mattered.

I walk through the place making sure I stood close to the walls, knowing that this way I wouldn't get caught by the cameras around. I make my way through the top left corner of the gardens, where I knew there was a little passage usually only the janitors went in, but I knew there was a little place I could go in and be alone for a couple minutes.

Outside and last but not least, in peace.

I sit in one of the corners of the room, always away from the camera and wait, just to make sure my breathing was the only sound around. After a couple of minutes, I know I am alone, just like I wanted to, so I light up my cigarette and smoke, smoke until my head relaxes and my hands stop shaking. This is what true relaxation feels like.

I keep myself in there for about ten minutes, smoking, letting the tension leave my body until I feel like it's the right time and turn my cigarette off.

There's a sound, at my left, steps, a lot of them and the voices there do not sound like janitors. I hide behind a big gap on the wall, that I have always been sitting next to but did not consider getting in. I could have been paranoid, it was just noises, but this was a closed area and the janitors clearly already made their round judging by how clean this place was already. Something felt off, Made me nervous.

There is male voices whispering to each other, speaking quietly and really close to the wall, just like I did when I got inside, whoever these people were, they didn't want to get caught.  I catch a glimpse of one of their faces when they walk beside the gap of the wall, I freeze in place, staying as quietly as possible, they clearly don't see me since I was sitting down and the place carried a fair amount of darkness to keep me hiding. Good.

"How long?" one of them said to another. I could hear things moving here and there but couldn't put my finger on what the hell they were doing.

"10 minutes or so" says a deeper voice. Again those sounds, things moving and some strange sound of ripped out cables touching each other.

"Let's go over it, one more time" says the voice I heard first "third floor, a bomb goes off, everyone sleeps, we're invisible"

Bomb?. What bomb?. Oh crap.

"Bingo" that deep voice says with a chuckle.

My hands shake, but I manage to keep my breathing steady and invisible. These guys are criminals, "How did you manage to hide the thing?" asks the first voice.

"It's in the air bent, no one will see it" his friend says with some arrogance in his voice  "Plus, I figured it would make a better distribution of our new baby"

These fuckers planted a gas bomb on the air bent, that's why no one saw it, that's how everyone would sleep. They are insane, just, insane.

"Sweet" the guy laughs and I hear their hands clapping together "Hurry then, Let's get this started"

With that, I just hear steps, on and on and on, until they banish entirely and I am left alone again. I peek my head out carefully, to discover that I am indeed alone now, the criminals must have used some entrance around that I didn't know about and they are getting away with it just like so.

Holy crap.

My voice trembles "What the he-"

A smaller exploding sound ignites by my side, quite enough to not leave the room but still taking me by surprise and catching me totally off guard. Then there's another, and another one, the security cameras are blowing up. They are making themselves invisible.

I have to warn everyone.

I don't know how or when I got so fast. But the second I step out of the gardens I take the stairs all the way down to the third floor and as fast as my quick can carry me, it takes me about five full minutes to find my uncle and all my class in the middle of the hallway, which was a relief because this floor itself was really big, but also because we didn't have much time and I had to tell him about what I saw before something happened.

He smiles at the tour guide lady, as he pretends to be overly interested on her explanations and trying to get the others in the class as excited as he was, apparently he didn't even notice I was gone all of this time, but the moment he catches my worried eyes all he does is smile at me and signaling me to come over. He had no idea.

"Uncle- oh uh, Mr. harrington" I stutter, walking up to him directly and with a serious tone, I needed him to know this was serious  "Sir, I need to talk to you" I say when I know I had his attention.

"Not the moment, Rory"  He says with a weird laugh as he pulls me into a hug and makes me turn around to the tour guide as if he was trying to turn all my attention on her.  "I didn't see you around, I figured you would be behind us, are you having fun?" he asks sweetly and I get it, it's sweet that he cares about me this much, but right now, I need him to listen.

"I need to tell you something" I say, keeping my voice down in a mumble.

"You're bored" he says, instantly interpreting my words in a wrong way "I get that you've seen this a ton but not everyone has, don't cut the vibes off"

"It's important" I say, doing my best to keep it together and not snap at him even when he was being a total dick.

"Art is important!" he says in an overly excited voice as he tightens the hug "Enjoy it, Visualise it"

"Uncle-" I say pulling away from him.

"Sh sh sh, this is the best one" he shushes me. My hands shake, even more, we were running out of time and he isn't listening to me at all.

"You don't get it-" I snap and then there's yelling, people running and we are all lost and confused. I didn't get the chance to warn them.

No one really understands what is going on, but just like if someone had given them a command, everyone in my class starts crowding up, trying to look for some source of protection with each other. My uncle starts giving orders, telling everyone to calm down and remains where they were until security came but there was not a guard around the place, just us, just a bunch of people panicking and not knowing what the hell to do.

Power goes out and before everyone can start panicking again, there's smoke coming out from one of the air vents across the hall, I cover my mouth and nose instantly, scared of what that might be but others don't do the same as me and I can see from afar how some people start just passing out just like so. This is what they meant, they're putting everyone to sleep.

"Ladies and gentlemen, stay where you are and no one needs to get hurt today" Says one of the voices I heard when I was back at the gardens. There are two figures walking towards us, the people who were still awake, they are armed and have masks. Whatever they are planning to do, they are ready.

Some of the masked men start barking orders at us. I barely listen to any of them, but my feet move without me realizing I was even doing it, I just follow what they say and make my best to be invisible.

We are lined up against one of the walls, the fog is making its way towards us and sleeping all the people who breathe in the scent. I don't know if it was some kind of poison but I refused to let that thing come over here.

I barely realize what is really happening, but when I see the men walk towards the other end of the hallway where their first victims fell, I start scanning the room carefully. There had to be something else around, it's impossible that these guys only set one bomb on the whole floor when this portion of the building was so big. There had to be another one.

I see it.

I see its light, pink and bright, beeping through the entrance of the air bent and counting down god knows how many seconds. I had to do something about it, I can't let it put more people down.

There are more men participating in this robbery, I believe, because I don't only see one mask in the darkness of the room but plenty. They must have been undercover but even when they were not the majority they were still enough to control a crowd.

There are a yell and guns being shot, everyone panic and I hear girls crying, girls from my class, some people are praying and others just keeping their panic inside themselves. I guess I am one of them. I peek to see what's going on and I see what it is.

Another person is here, dressed in a onesie from head to toe and moving around the place with incredible ability. Some of the criminals are now down.

Oh shit.

Is that the Spider-man?.

I don't even have the time to fully have a reaction, because a door is being open and like animals endangered, everyone starts running to it and hurrying to get out, catching me off guard and sending me to the floor. I do my best to get up from the floor as everyone rushes out, I do a quick check-up, no one from my class is around and I can't see my uncle, I guess he had run with everyone else on their way out but in between the panic there was a lot of fighting in between and it was just one person against everything.

I had to help in some way.

When I say I know this place like the palm of my hand I mean it. I run towards a direction I know really well and grab one of the pieces I know that will help me on my little mission. That really large stick of wood in the exhibition, painted in vivid colors that no one really cared about, it's perfect for what I am about to do.

I move to the center of the room quickly, dragging one of the chairs that were sitting around the room as well. I am quick on what I do. I place the chair beneath the air bent and get on it, trying to reach the air vent with the stick but it's still too tall just one more inch...

"MOVE MOVE MOVE" a voice says behind me and before I can get back to what I was doing, someone knocks me down and I fell onto the floor.

My shoulder bangs hard on the wood covered floor and the pain rushes on my arm as soon as I hit the floor. I turn my head to the side. That masked guy is helping me up quickly and shooting one of his webs onto some guys face that was apparently coming to grab me from behind while I wasn't looking, and even when I should be grateful he's here to help, there is still shit I need to do and he is not letting me.

"What are you doing?!" I yell in frustration, facing the Spiderman directly.

"you're in the way m'ma" he says to me and grabs my shoulders, trying to get me to walk away to the entrance with the other people, but I refuse.

"no I wasn't! There's another bomb in the air vent!" I yell again and go back to the stacked chair I put in there.

"Please, get with the others, I'll take care of-" he begs, talking fast.

"Oh for god's sake" I yell in anger, as I turn around and go back to what I was doing.

I get on the chair and with the edge of the multi-million dollar stick, I knock the air bent off, jumping out of the way quickly as the ticking bomb falls to the floor.

There it is, in all it's glory. It hasn't gone off yet but it is still ticking and there is a big 1:45 on the screen and counting backward. We had to act quickly.

Just like if I had said it out loud, the spiderman starts shooting and shooting webs, covering the bomb entirely until Its almost completely covered and there aren't many gaps showing it's material. But when it goes off it is still enough to send us both flying on the floor, in the same direction, making me land on him.

His masked face looks at me and moves me away from his body and helping me up, seeing that the bad guys were still stealing the art from the place and he could not let them get away with it.

"Go with the others" He says as an order in clear words and my eyes widen. That voice, I know it, but from where?.

I try to speak but when he grabs my shoulders and tries to turn me around so I could walk out I see it. He has the biggest gap on his suit, cutting through the fabric around this torso and it was bleeding like hell.

"You're bleeding" I say trying to turn around to see the wound more closely, not wanting to be noisy but I felt the need to help. Now was not the moment though.

"Go!" He yells in frustration, pushing me out of the way and running towards the criminals, that pointed their guns at him.

I ran away at the sight of guns, run and run until I don't hear them anymore and before I can realize, I am on the outsides of the museum and my uncle is crashing me into his arms, praying to god, thinking that I was in okay, but little did he know. I wasn't. My head was messed up.

In my head, I was just processing what just went down. The bombs, the shooting, that people that were knocked out, I could only hope they were okay and inside of me, my conscious felt half serene because I helped and I was grateful I had the chance to do something so things couldn't get worse.

But there was still something in my conscience that bothered me and it was that guy, he was hurt, seriously hurt by god knows what and he was there, bleeding himself out and fighting bad guys, I want to help, I wish to help just like he does with a lot of other people.

I should be able to help, but how?.

However, I know that voice, I have known that voice for a long time and I could be wrong but I am almost entirely sure It has been around me for a long while, but I can't put my finger on it, I can't get my head to recognize it even when I know, I've heard it, plenty of times.

and inside of me, I can only think.

Who is the Spiderman?

[lopez-richter-fangirl]

Every single thought I had watching AVSR - MAMD, AVPS, Starship, HMB, AVPSY

God I want one of those michigan starkid sweatshirts so bad

I love that people are laughing already because they know exactly where meredith is going with her lead in to mamd

Somehow I forgot how wild this musical was

As much as I’m not a fan of the show, ready to go is a fucking great song (i mean the music in that show is pretty good for the MOST part)

I find it stupidly funny that jaime tightens her pigtails at the line “let your hair down darlin”

Once again, joey got so good looking jesus christ literally when did that happen

His voice is so strong now too I’m so proud of my baby boy

Of course it would be lauren they got to be vanessa. Fucking lauren. Coming out and fucking killing me with that fucking hair flip

Okay joe and joey harmonising was actually really great

That hip thrusting is too much no thank you especially lauren oh my fucking god

“You might recognise me as student number one”

I do have slight issues with “harry’s freshman year at hogwarts” but I’ll ignore it for the sake of avpsy

The audience ‘aww’ing at michigan being Starkid’s hogwarts literally rips my heart out of my chest

Okay but did they have to play the days of summer music at the start no they did not what the fuck starkid I’m crying and it’s not even a sad scene

Joey’s fucking face he just looks so happy about the red vines what a dork

I mean they ruined my favourite hp character but god did brian do a great job playing avps lupin

The fucking mustache just hanging off his face

Joe just appearing in the background and the cheer he gets

Oh my god I forgot how much I loved avpm snape he’s fucking hilarious joe did a fucking a+++ job

“Who looks stupid now? You do” says brian with a fake mustache falling off his face

The whole absurd bit is stupidly funny it’s unreal

Darren singing to have a home at michigan is too much who allowed this

“we’ve hoped and we’ve waited” nope I’m definitely not okay

I mean at least he didn’t say “to know starkid’s real” like he did that one time because that would have broken me

“this damn tv show” too right

I’d let lauren tear off my head (to contextualise it’s starship now so i’m referring to bugette however that is something that i regularly think anyway)

I know they had to do something but it just makes me laugh that they got brian to join brant during beauty but he said almost nothing and was just following him round the stage the whole time

I actually love this song a lot

I’m so glad julia and corey got the appreciation they deserved

Of course starkid would smuggle merch into canada what fucking idiots

Rogues are we is a goddamn masterpiece

I love denise but god lauren singing those parts is the death of me

How much fun do you think they had writing all these freaking puns

I’m still impressed with the almost 100% accuracy jeff managed to pull out the right candies

Only starkid would put on musical in 3 days the idiots but god am i glad they did and it was amazing too, like these guys are actually incredible

“This is awful” says darren while laughing

I hate that fact that they think (I mean I know they don’t really but kind of) that no one cares about the non hp musicals

Not this fucking song

I mean everything ends is perfect and it fits so well with the musical but it was designed to tear hearts to shreds

I’ve said it before and I’ve said it again, if (yes if not when) starkid decide to end then I will not be able to listen to this song because I will just sob until there are no tears left in my body

“Brant!”

I mean the fact that brian can be singing on stage in his underwear and the song still makes me cry says something about starkid

The find joke shouldn’t still be funny but it absolutely is

[ao3feed-buckybarnes]

"Hi there I'm... fuck."

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/HK4CVID

by 14Muffinz

To be honest, Rhodey wasn't sure how he ended up in this position. Yeah, he knew that the kid's school was a magnet for talent, but he wasn't expecting to see emails from Nick fucking Fury saying that he want to recruit Spidey's friends to be agents. He tried to laugh it off, but still was forced to read their files thanks to his correlation with shield and their correlation with Spidey. And damn... there was surprisingly something there.

In about five seconds, Peter had gone from, "Oh my god I can't believe we're training agents, Rhodey!" to, "What the fuck, Mr. Rhodes."

Teen for Language and Violence

Words: 1131, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), (Spoilers on this next one), Silk (Comics)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Peter Parker, Cindy Moon, Michelle Jones, Betty Brant, Abe Brown, Ned Leeds, James "Bucky" Barnes, James "Rhodey" Rhodes

Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Cindy Moon & Peter Parker

Additional Tags: Not Spider-Man: No Way Home Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Mid-Credits Scene Compliant, Kidnapping, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, more like comfort/hurt, There's probably going to be like four chapters of hurt

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/HK4CVID

[claudiadonovan]

Hi, so I just watched Professor Marston and the Wonder Women and it was fucking perfect and it's become one of my favorite movies ever. I just don't understand why no one is talking about it or why it isn't winning awards?????? Anyways please use this ask to talk about your love for the movie because I really want someone to share my excitement and love for this movie

HI YES HELLO. “use this ask to talk about your love for the movie” YOU ARE EXTREMELY KIND, FRIEND, I WILL DO EXACTLY THAT. GOD KNOWS I AM INCAPABLE OF DOING ANYTHING ELSE. ALSO, I AM VERY EXCITED FOR YOU.

first of all: hopefully now that there are torrents, people will begin waking up. (i’m so excited there are gifs! i’ve waited for this moment ALL OF MY LIFE. “kayla you’ve only known about the movie since a month or two before it’s release date in october of last year–” ALL MY DAMN LIFE.) second of all: the lack of acknowledgement/awards is a DISGRACE, owed at least in part to the fact that annapurna really just dropped it in terms of award consideration. but also, i will be offended about it for the entire rest of my life. (luckily, i am too overwhelmingly delighted about this movie’s existence to let this DISGUST consume me. yk.)

surprise: there is rambling ahead!

first, let me just say this: i just finished reading the secret history of wonder women and, though i already definitely knew this, it hit me all over again how fucking absurdly, outrageously, improbably lucky we are to have been given angela’s cinematic interpretation. i truly believe that this movie in anyone else’s hands would have proved something else entirely – among those things, far more hetero and far less positive in terms of its depiction of polyamory. (and god even knows where the ideas about kink would have been taken.) because this movie could have been made A MILLION WAYS. yes, in real life, marston was probably an asshole much of the time. and in real life, it’s unlikely he gave elizabeth a real choice re: olive moving in with them. and, like, whatever, i’m not even getting into the question of romance re: e/o, because i can already hear christie appearing at my house and screaming THEY WERE LIKE SISTERS through my door lmao. (sure. yeah. definitely.) but the point is that that relationship could have been interpreted in a million (shittier) ways. anyway, all of those things being true, angela came into this movie with 8 years of research under her belt, a fascination with wonder woman and the marston-holloway-byrne family, and a vision of a goddamn love story. the new york times wasn’t kidding when they called this movie a trojan horse: what you end up with from this movie is three people falling in love, building a life together, and, incidentally, wonder woman. you also get a movie that centers elizabeth’s arc, regardless of what the title or framing device pretends. bill remains pretty steadfastly bill the entire movie as he appears in the first scene; elizabeth upends her entire life, and it’s that journey that sets the course for the whole damn movie. not to mention the fact that elizabeth/olive becomes basically the crux of the entire thing. WHO ELSE WOULD HAVE WRITTEN IT LIKE THIS? who else would have dedicated themselves to a nuanced polyam love story that crafted and centered delightful, three-dimension women above all else???

it’s also HILARIOUS. one of the great triumphs of this movie (imo) is the depiction of elizabeth, because she is written as SO MANY THINGS. she is allowed to BE so many things. not only in the sense that terror and fearlessness exist in her at once but also that you can have scenes like that first encounter with olive, where she’s pretty much an asshole, and you can have scenes like the one in the speakeasy, where she is lively and delighted and takes so much joy in the constant debate that her marriage comprises. she’s incredibly charismatic and she’s a disaster and she’s totally theatrical on the kind of scope that maybe only matches (if in a different way, i think) her husband. (and, of course, the same could be said of olive, in a lot of ways – that she fits Young Ingenue TM in a lot of the immediate, visible ways but is the bravest of all of them. the most unwilling to surrender her absolute conviction both in terms of what she wants and where she will go to achieve it. also, lbh, she is the fucking adult in that relationship.)

speaking of hilarious, as a sidenote because i’ve been laughing about it a lot recently: the longest elizabeth ever goes without saying anything in a conversational scene is that air show “double date” scene. pls if you haven’t already, compare that to the speakeasy date. it makes me laugh EVERY TIME. WHO IS BRANT, TRULY, AND WHY IS HE FOURTH WHEELING. let me tell you how much elizabeth DOESN’T CARE TO FIND OUT ANY OF THESE ANSWERS. second sidenote: the things rebecca is capable of doing with her face, both in larger moments and in much smaller, nuanced moments, whether she is or isn’t talking? art. (i could present to you the whole movie, but i will present, for your consideration, the “ask him questions” scene. both for her face and for the way that scene is framed, where it’s olive who’s trying to avoid hashing everything out but you really follow elizabeth’s journey re: the emotional ramifications of the prior scene across her face.)

anyway, given i could offer a rambling play-by-play of the whole movie if i keep going, i am hereby shutting up. i will conclude with: i can’t tell you how long it’s been since i’ve been THIS INVESTED IN CINEMA. I HARDLY EVEN WATCH MOVIES. THIS MOVIE HAS TURNED MY ENTIRE LIFE UPSIDE DOWN. now all i want in the world is the au where elizabeth gets to take over wonder woman after bill dies. 

THERE IS NOTHING LIKE THIS MOVIE, AND THIS IS THE HILL I WILL DIE ON.

[julesdelorme]

faller

Chapter 8

Suckers

There’s a sucker born every minute.

Every single fucking minute.

The wife doesn’t like it when I swear. She keeps a swear jar at home.

I put money in it every day even though we’re never going to have kids to give the money to.

She’s a good woman.

She’s entitled to her delusions after all I put her through. I never mention that the jar doesn’t really have a point. Every day I put money in and it just stays there. It just sits there. There’s a bunch of them now and they don’t do anything but sit there full of money. I don’t touch them. She doesn’t touch them. We go to church every Sunday and she holds my hand, and I’m just glad that she stayed with me all these years.

She knows who I am. She knows the kinds of things that I do. She knows all about me. I never lie to her. I don’t talk about the things that I do and she never asks, but I never lie to her. She knows. And still she stays. Still she loves me.

So let her have her swear jar that gets so full of money that neither one of us will ever touch, that gets so full of money that I keep having to buy bigger and bigger swear jars, and we laugh about that.

She’s a good woman.

I guess she’s a sucker for loving me, but she’s my sucker.

All those other suckers though. All those other suckers with their stupid vacant grins and their pathetic excuses for why their lives have gone to shit or why their lives have always been shit.

Two more for the swear jar.

You’re either the sucker or the guy taking the sucker. And I decided a long time ago that I was going to be the guy taking the sucker.

I’m definitely going to find a way to take this particular sucker. Even if he is in jail again. His kid is still there. Just the kid and that dirty goat. I can find a way to leverage that situation. Give a man a lever and he can move the world. Not quite sure how just yet, but I’ll figure something out when I get there. I always do.

This way to the Egress, folks.

All those suckers lying to themselves all the time, telling themselves some story about god or the way the world is supposed to work, but in the end the world works the way it works whether they like it or not. Predator or prey. The one that eats or the one that gets eaten. That’s the world. That’s the real world.

You don’t need to grow up on this piece of shit Rez to know that.

Another one for the jar.

I tried arguing once with her once that shit shouldn’t be considered a swear word. It’s just describing a normal bodily function that we all have to do pretty much every single day. We don’t think of sweat or scratch as swear words. They’re just things that we do but don’t like to talk about. Lots of things like that. More that we don’t want to talk about than we do. But I guess that a swear word is whatever we say it is, because we’re the ones that get to decide what offends us or doesn’t. No matter if it’s all phoney and the words people get offended by are the things that they do every day or think about every day but just don’t want to talk about.

Let her have that. Sometimes you’ve got to play by the rules of the game, even if they don’t make any sense. And sometimes you just make up the rules as you go. Sometimes you find a way to use the rules or bend the rules a little, and you’re a fool if you don’t, because someone else will, and you’ll end up being the sucker. Someone else will get to feed on the broken corpses of your stupid rules.

My job, in theory, is to make sure that those rules don’t get broken or bent too far. But my job in the real world is to figure out how far those rules can be bent and to make use of this badge that they were fool enough to pin on me so that me and mine get the most out of this life, and that we’re not the suckers, we’re not the prey.

Not like this drunk and his messed up kid.

All that council money now. All the casino money. And these suckers got themselves some free land, a nice house, a boat, and then they go to blowing all the money they got and the money they get every year. It doesn’t take a genius to talk them out of that land and that house.

They can keep their boats. But that land is worth something to people who know how to take advantage, and it doesn’t matter that those are the people who aren’t even allowed to own this land. There’s always someone who is. There’s always someone who is willing to take the money just to have their name on a piece of paper, and that someone is me. It it wasn’t me, it would be someone else.

It was good enough for Joseph Brant, it’s sure good enough for me.

This idiot doesn’t even have the boat and he burned most of his house down, almost killed that creepy kid. Himself. And even that dirty goat. He doesn’t deserve that land. He never earned it.

All these idiots would just sit there in their new houses, the same people that they were when there was no council money and casino money, and do nothing with all that land, with all this valuable border land. They don’t know what they’ve got. They don’t know what they’ve been given. They just know how to lose it.

Suckers.

They see a badge and a uniform, that most of them didn’t even bother to vote to give me and they believe anything that I tell them, or they’re too scared of the uniform to say no. Either way.

Suckers.

Somebody’s going to take their money. Somebody’s going to take their land. Might as well be me as anybody else. Suckers are born to be suckered. Prey is born to be eaten. It’s not the wolf’s fault that the pigs didn’t know how to build a house.

I watched my old man drink and piss away everything he ever got. Blamed it all on the white man. Blamed it all on the system. Blamed it all on my mother. Never once looked in the mirror and saw that he was the sucker and it wasn’t anyone’s fault that he didn’t have the backbone or the brains to make something out of himself. It wasn’t the Residential Schools or the Church or the Government’s fault that he stood there and took it and did nothing but feel sorry for himself.

Wasn’t anybody’s fault that he was a waste of space. That was on him. He was the sucker. And my mother was the sucker for staying and taking all his shit.

Not me.

Not me.

No, I joined the army just to get off this shitty reserve, off this shitty island. Came back and made something out of myself. Got myself a degree and when they wanted to put me on the council, I took it. When they wanted to put the badge on me I took that too. I’ll take more than that the first chance I get. I keep the peace. I can’t stop every single asshole from being an asshole, but I do what I can.

Another two for the jar.

Three.

Four.

Keep the laws that matter and bend other ones any way that I can bend them. Law of the jungle.

Stupid people shouldn’t be alive anyway. They’re out there having babies by the bushel with no money that they earned, and no brains and their kids end up as stupid as them, like cows that don’t even know that they’re being fattened up for slaughter.

Fuck them.

One more for the jar.

Fuck them twice.

Two for the jar.

They talk about fairness and how the world was a paradise before the white man showed up, but half us were killing the other half, and half of us are still killing the other half. Booze and drugs and shooting each other when they’re drunk or wasted. Running each other down on the road or the river. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the wrecks. I’ve seen the bodies. The suicides. Some people are just too stupid to be alive, or too weak to be alive, and back in the old days if that was you, you were the one that ended up dead. Now you get to to do stupid things to hurt other people. Kill other people.

We had wars. Our ancestors killed other people’s ancestors. Ate some of them. Parts of them. That’s what our own stories say. When the priests came here we did the same thing to them. They chose the wrong side so we killed them and we tortured them and cut their skin off and ate their hearts. Cut off Brebeuf’s lips and stuck a burning stick down his throat.

Paradise my ass.

Wasn’t one then and it sure as hell isn’t one now. Maybe a paradise for the winners. Maybe a paradise for the hunters and the killers. Paradise is what you make. Paradise is what you can take. Paradise is for the ones strong enough and smart enough not to be the prey.

Cain killed Abel because Abel was too stupid and too weak to be alive.

Survival of the fittest. Sucker born every minute.

Fuck them.

One for the jar.

If we had a kid he’d be one rich motherfucker.

Fuck.

Two.

Better off than this poor kid. His father would sign anything you put in front of him once you get him drunk. Sooner or later he’s just going to kill himself and that kid. Too stupid to be alive. Dumb motherfucker.

Fuck.

Two more.

Just another mean drunk. Just another sucker. And that kid. That kid gives me the creeps. Hardly ever talks. Stands there staring off into space like he’s in some kind of trance. Talking to that kid’s like talking to that stupid goat of his. Just stares at you and stares like he sees you but like he sees past you too. You just can’t tell what the hell is going on inside that kid’s head. Gives me the creeps.

Hell is not a swear word.

Not anymore.

I’ve seen hell. I know what it looks like.

Definitely not a swear word.

Kid gives me the creeps. Damn goat gives me the creeps too.

Damn’s not a swear work either. They say it on TV all the time. They say all kinds of shit on TV nowadays.

Fuck.

Two more.

Best thing that ever happened to that kid if I took him in, put him in the system. Living in that burned out house all alone. Not my fault his father’s an asshole. That prick sober and locked up is meaner than any rattlesnake and more disagreeable too. But maybe the boy could give me some leverage. Maybe that kid could be useful for something at least.

Prick.

That’s a swear word.

Yeah.

It’s a swear word.

Fuck.

That jar’s going to be full. Our kid would be a billionaire, if we could have one.

Going to have to buy another jar. Put it beside all the other ones.

Kid really gives me the creeps. Probably retarded or something. Be better off in the system.

Car in the driveway. There’s a fucking car in their driveway.

Probably that girl. Pretty one. Seen her here before. Heard she’s trying to take care of the kid. Not sure why. What her angle is. Don’t think she’s a social worker or a teacher. Kind of looks like she could be part Indian or maybe Oriental. Hard to tell sometimes. Could be related to the kid somehow. Except she doesn’t look like she’s from this place. Not sure what her angle is and I don’t like people who are up to things I can’t figure out.

Going to have to dig into that. Find out who the hell she is and if she’s going to be a problem.

What the hell is she doing?

She’s just standing in the driveway. Staring at something. Behind the house. Maybe the field. She’s just standing there. Bag of groceries spilled out all over the driveway. Can’t see what she’s looking at.  Must be something that matters. She should have heard my car. She hasn’t looked back even once, and she’s not taking notice of all that mess in the driveway.

What the hell is she doing?

I don’t like complications. I fucking hate complications.

One more for the jar.

Two more. Losing count.

I can’t see the boy. I can’t see anything behind that burned up house. Maybe something happened to the kid. Out here all alone, something bad was bound to happen. Not sure how that breaks down for me. Might be hard to reason with that prick after something like that. Or if maybe something like this’d leave him open to be manipulated.

I don’t like complications.

Just stop the car. Sit here for a moment. Try to figure out the situation before I go jumping in.

Fuck. She’s looking back at me now. She sees me.

The look on her face. What is that look on her face? Fear? Relief?

Guess I’m going to have to find out.

If I wasn’t married I’d fuck the hell out of her.

Shit.

Going to need a whole new swear jar.

Okay.

Hate complications. I really fucking hate complications.

Don’t like not knowing what I’m walking into. Only one way to find out, I guess. One way to find out who the sucker’s going to be.

This way to the Egress, folks. This way to the fucking Egress.

Going to need a whole new jar.

Going to need some way bigger fucking jars.

https://www.facebook.com/delormewriting

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[jeichanhaka]

And Carried Me Away: Ch. 8

Chapter 1|| Chapter 2|| Chapter 3|| Chapter 4|| Chapter 5|| Chapter 6||

Chapter 7|| Chapter 8|| Chapter 9|| Chapter 10|| Chapter 11|| Chapter 12||

Chapter 13|| Chapter 14|| Chapter 15||

Chapter 8:

"Oh, god, this can't be happening." Catherine Joyce mumbled, her cheeks streaked with tears, her hands shaking. Around her were the oppressive sounds of the local precinct - the chattering, footsteps, phones ringing all rolled together. It was excruciating, sitting there thinking about Melissa, wondering what the monster was doing to her stepdaughter.

She'd helped raise Melissa since the girl was four, she was her mother in every way except biologically. It horrified her to sit there and think about what was happening. Her brain kept telling her she needed to go out and look for her stepdaughter, that the police didn't know anything when they insisted she stay to be questioned by the FBI. What the hell good would that do?! She wanted to scream. Melissa had been brutalize the first time by the son of a FBI agent, why the hell should she trust them?!

It made no difference to Catherine that the agent's son had been switched at birth or kidnapped or whatever according to an article she'd read. The bastard who had attacked Melissa nearly sixteen weeks ago was an FBI agent's son, and parents instinctively protected their children. No matter what. Even if it is against the consequence of their own actions.

Catherine had protected Melissa from responsibility so many times through the years, she knew it was true. And she imagined it would be more true if the bastard had been kidnapped as a child.

"...Mrs. Joyce?" Tara Lewis approached the woman, followed closely by Cam Fitzgerald. Both women took out their credentials and showed Catherine. "I'm agent Lewis and this is agent Fitzgerald. First, let me assure you we're doing everything we can to find Melissa. And it would help if you could answer some questions. Do you think you're up to it?"

"Do you work with that bastard's father?" Catherine snapped, her eyes narrowed. Her response surprised the two agents, though Tara quickly realized who the woman referred to and replied back calmly.

"Mrs. Joyce, the man who attacked your daughter in New York almost four months ago is still in prison, and he will remain there indefinitely. He is not behind this." Tara kept her tone calm, though she noticed Cam tense up out of the corner of her eye. She wondered if it wouldn't have been better to have a different agent join her. Though she barely knew Cam Fitzgerald, she had heard the young agent viewed Rossi highly, and it showed in her body language now.

"That doesn't answer my question." Catherine hissed, crossing her arms. The stubbornness that had always been part of her nature on full display in her face. "Do you work with that monster's father?"

"Mrs..."

Cam, glaring at the woman, cut through Tara's measured response. Her tone clipped and harsh. "Look, all right, we can sit here and waste time or we can help find your daughter. If you don't want to help, tell us now, that way we don't waste the time we could be using to find the current son of a bitch who has your daughter on trying to crack through your damn obstinacy."

Catherine returned the young agent's glare, but at the same time grew pale. Her stubbornness and distrust was dwarfed from her fear for Melissa. "I...all right. I'll answer whatever questions. I don't know if they'll be much help, but...Just find Melissa, please."

Tara nodded, her eyes widened slightly by Cam's outburst. It had been a foolhardy thing to do, since it could easily have caused Catherine to refuse to speak to them. She once again wondered if it'd been better if Cam had gone with one of the others.

"All right. We'd like to try something called a cognitive interview. Close your eyes, please." Tara waited a moment while Catherine did so. "Think back to the restaurant. What it smelled like and what sounds there were. Was there anything that stuck out? A person or a sound? Maybe someone paying too close attention to Melissa?"

"No. There wasn't anything...like that..." Catherine replied, her certainty trailing off as she remembered. "Wait, the server who brought us our food. There was something about him. Something...I'm not sure. He seemed to linger longer at our table, and he kept glancing at Mel." Catherine grimaced, her eyes still closed, and mumbled a comment about how the stares weren't so unusual since what happened to Melissa in New York. "This was different though. I'm not sure..."

The woman paused, her face scrunching up and her body tensing. Even though Tara prompted her to remember more, Catherine remained reluctant to continue.

0With a clenched jaw and glowering face, Rossi stared at the file Cam had brought to Hotch. He barely registered a word he read, his thoughts split between the BAU's current case, and how James was back in solitary. Neither of which he could help with. Perhaps if he hadn't almost gone ballistic on the prison warden once he'd heard his son had been placed in solitary confinement, he...

The senior agent sighed, grumbling as he realized that even if he had kept his temper in check, he still wouldn't have been able to question James. They needed an unbiased, accurate interview, and it was highly probable that James would've done everything he could to rile Rossi up. Such an interview wouldn't have helped anyone.

He glared back at the file he held, his brain focusing on the info it contained to avoid thinking about being unable to help on the current case. Cruz had been on the fence about taking Rossi off the James-copycat case for the possible conflict-of-interest, since the older man was a seasoned agent. The moment the section chief learned about the unsub sending the gruesome package to Rossi directly however, he'd ordered the senior agent off investigating the case. It was either that or giving the case to another team.

Rossi, still reeling over learning James had been thrown back in solitary, had nearly gone off on Cruz for the decision. Something that Hotch noticed quickly, and had curtailed by suggesting Rossi help with the case Cam had brought.

-"Linnet claimed to Fitzgerald that one of his victims was her mother." Hotch spoke after grabbing the older agent's arm. It took only moments for the irritation on Rossi's countenance to shift to concern.

"Cam's mom? Linnet killed her...?" Rossi took the manila file Hotch held out, flipping open to the top page. His attention flitting between it and the unit chief.

"Fitzgerald asked the team to look into Linnet's claim, before we got called in. Perhaps you could do so?" Hotch suggested, knowing from Rossi's concern for the younger agent that he would agree to the suggestion.-

Rossi massaged his forehead, reading the file on Violet Brant - the woman Linnet claimed was Cam's mother. There wasn't a photo of her from before her body was discovered in an abandoned construction site, and her wounds had been extensive enough that any identifying facial features had been obscured. Though judging by hair color and skin pigmentation, as well as age, it was possible the woman was related to Cam.

That alone proved nothing, however. If the woman had heterochromia like Cam, it'd be more definitive, since the trait was rare and possibly genetic. At least Rossi presumed so from what he recalled years ago when Spencer had commented on Cam's heterochromia. Still, the woman not having it didn't disprove her being the young woman's mother.

"Hm." Rossi's dark-chestnut eyes shifted from the crime scene photos, to the notes written by the M.E. It all fit with what they knew Linnet did to his victims, and as such he nearly missed catching an odd detail noted in the autopsy report.

-Cause of death: asphyxiation. Bruising indicative of hesitance.-

"What?" Rossi mumbled, shaking his head. He thought about the man they caught nine weeks ago, and about the other victims. Not once did Linnet show any remorse. That the monster would've showed hesitance was baffling, it hadn't even been his first kill. "That's impossible. Unless he got someone else to..."

The senior agent drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening. A moment or two of silence passed as he reread the sentence, then the date written on the report. His gut tightened.

This victim had been murdered around the same time Alsie had been in Linnet's custody. And while a seasoned serial killer like Linnet wouldn't have shown hesitance in the kill, a child would.

"The fucking bastard..." Rossi cursed, feeling sick as he realized what the hesitance suggested. Linnet hadn't killed this woman himself, but had forced someone else. And unless there'd been another person, thus far unknown, there at the time, it seemed likely Alsie had been that someone. "...she'd barely been around nine or ten..." He mumbled, followed by a few bilingual swears.

'No wonder she still balks at remembering her time at Linnet's. If he forced her to kill...' He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he thought about Alsie and what she'd told Hotch, about how the real Allison Schmidt had died. That it'd been an accident, the two girls had been playing by a well and Allison had fallen in.

Rossi rubbed his chin in thought, shifting his thought to the incident between Alsie and Shelly. The confrontation had resulted in the latter woman's death, though it had been in self-defense. At least they'd presumed it was. Alsie's alter Emmie had admitted to attacking Shelly after the woman threatened her, and it'd been likely Shelly had been ready to kill Alsie.

That had been self-defense. Or under mitigating circumstances.

Though what were the odds that Alsie would've been involved in someone's death on three separate occasions?

Rossi shook his head, chasing away the suspicion as being outrageous. Though Linnet may have forced Alsie to kill at least one of his victims, it didn't mean the petite woman would kill others. Forcing others to kill didn't turn them into murderers - just look at James, Somerfield had spent decades trying to turn Rossi's son into a cold-blooded killer and it hadn't worked! The only time James had deliberately tried to kill someone, it'd been trying to mercy-kill Alsie in the hospital. A twisted act, but one meant to be a sort of kindness to the grieving mother of his child.

Rossi sighed, placing down the folder. He rubbed his eyes, not enjoying how his brain kept attempting to profile not just his son but the mother of his grandchild. It was unnecessary. His son was in prison, without any chance at parole, and Alsie had been through enough shit in her life. She didn't need him profiling her. Besides, she was Spencer's twin and Jemma's mother, making her part of the BAU family. The no-profiling rule extended to her.

'...Linnet knew Jemma's name though.' Rossi mumbled, half in his thoughts and half aloud. 'Either Alsie or James had to have told him. And James...he thought that Somerfield...'

Rossi tensed, shaking his head against the suspicion. It was ludicrous! Just by watching Alsie's reaction when she was reunited with Jemma, he knew she was a loving mother. She would never have endangered Jemma or herself, and getting in touch with Linnet would've done just that.

Nor would Emmie had done so. Not when that alter had attacked Shelly in response to her disparaging comments about Jemma. And Ana wasn't a...

"Shit..." Rossi mumbled. He hadn't been present at the time, but had learned later about Ana having attacked a nurse. There was another alter Alsie had, who called herself Leigh. He had witnessed her himself during a visit over the last few weeks. It'd been brief, but the glare she'd given had been chilling. None of which meant any of Alsie's alters were murderous, but...at least one was violent.

Yet Alsie herself wasn't, of that much Rossi was sure. Further, she was getting help to control her D.I.D and to deal with what happened to her growing up.

'I should focus on Linnet's claim. Not on what Alsie or her alters may or may not have done.' Rossi mumbled to himself and focused once more on the file Cam had brought. His uncertainty continued to linger though, even as he focused on the file.

0The door clanged shut loudly behind him, the guard leaving him alone to spent privately with the lawyer. A man with dark hair, and eyes that studied him closely, sat at the table already. Once he saw James he gestured to the chair across from his.

James gandered at the stranger. His brow furrowed, not sure what to make of the other man, though he wasted no time in sitting down. Despite not knowing who the stranger was nor why or how he suddenly had a lawyer visiting him, he wasn't going to jeopardize it. Not when it could mean being sent straight back to solitary.

"...you're James Rossi. David Rossi's son..."

James glowered at the stranger, trying to place him. As well as trying to figure out why the man was here. He certainly hadn't retained a lawyer, nor did he think his father would on his behalf either. There was no need to anyway - he'd plead guilty to all counts levied against him, and wasn't eligible for parole. So unless someone was trying to get him judged incompetent or whatever, for whatever reason...

"...and Jemma's father." William Reid muttered, studying James. He recognized and expected the confusion on the thirty-six year old's face - it wasn't like he'd informed the man of his visit. Hell, he hadn't even expected to visit the man ever, and had been content to avoid thinking about him. Despite being the father of his granddaughter, James had no connection to him.

"...you know about...who are you?" James hissed, feeling tense. Wary even, not recognizing the stranger despite the feeling he was familiar. "Why are you here?"

William hesitated, not sure how to answer. His brain focused on what his daughter had asked him in the hospital.

-"Could you visit James and ask...ask if he kept his promise?" Alsie asked in an unsure voice, holding out a small photo of Jemma. "If he knows..." She mumbled the last bit to low to hear, but simply bit her lip rather than repeat it. "He'll understand. I...and please let him see Jemma's photo. I asked Rossi to give it to James, but...something James said made him angry...and he ended up giving it back."-

"...who sent..." James started to ask, becoming angrier and tenser. His gaze flitting from the man's face, to the door, then to what was in the stranger's hands. It was small, a paper or something.

"Elsie wanted me to ask if you kept your promise." William blurted, caught between wanting to just do what Alsie requested and leave, and wanting to question James for his own ends.

"...Alsie sent you?" James sat up straight, less tense but more aware. Especially as William's words registered to him. He grimaced, immediately knowing what promise was meant. It'd been the only thing he'd ever promised her. "...are you the lawyer her grandmother used?"

"You mean Mary Schmidt? No." William shook his head. "I'm William Reid. Elsie's father."

James' eyes narrowed, anger scrunching up his face. "Are you...the bastard who molested..."

"No. Hell no." William growled, livid at the accusation. "That was the bastard that took her as a baby. Crawford."

"Oh...what?" James drew back, confused.

"...Tobias Connell sold her, like he did you, as a newborn." William replied, glowering as he thought.

James' eyes widened. It was evident that no one had informed him much about Alsie and that she too had been a victim of Connell and Somerfield's scheme. Before he could digest the information and formulate a reply, the older man repeated his earlier words as an inquiry.

"So did you? Keep your promise to my daughter? Did you keep your promise to Elsie?" William demanded, his eyes glaring at the man across from him.

[imwillingtotakethe-risk]

Virgo men

Ughhh Virgo men...all of the guys I’ve hooked up with except that fucking brant guy have been virgos...I have no idea what that means. Am i suppose to be with a Virgo man? I have had such good times with them. Justin, Shane, and Patrick. Virgo men...idk maybe it’s not suppose to mean anything maybe it’s coincidence. I like patrick I like talking to him. I’ll text him because I like talking to him but why can’t I just want to be friends with someone without them thinking I want anything more. I wish I had a bad time with him so this would all be easier like with fucking trailer boy. Hot as hell but like country and a FUCKING TRAILER LIKE A GOD DAMN TRAIKER...I mean the sex was BYEIND better than Bryshaun and maybe even Shane combined but like I will never ever ever be able to get over that I drove 30 minutes to fuck in a trailer. But he was so country and hot....oh well anyway patrick smoking cigarettes was like really hot like we didn’t even have to go see a movie we could’ve just gone back to my place and fooled around. I know his penis is probably small and I’m not like a size whore or anything but idk so many emotions. It was like a proper date, he also hasn’t read my text so I can always text him and be like I know this is weird but I hope we can stay in touch I like talking with you. And it not be like weird idk he’s probably not going to text me back and I’ll just have to slowly get over him. Hopefully I start talking to someone in Chicago. I mean he has added me on fb which was different and I can always stalk him there. I’ll get over him eventually..hopefully..xx

[niamsuggitt]

The Ides Of July 2017

Hey guys! It’s time once again for The Ides Of, but this is a shorter column than usual. What can I say, it’s summer, there’s less TV on and I’ve been outside at least once. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still some damn good stuff in here,  but there’s notably less.

Part of me feels like I should compensate with a longer, ramblier introduction, but nah, let’s get on with it.

(Is ‘ramblier’ even a word? I don’t think it is. More rambly? No, that’s not right either.)

—

Movies

I began the month by watching John Wick: Chapter 2 (Chad Stahelski 2017), which picks up pretty much right where the first film left off, and doesn’t let go for the entire running time. It’s another hugely enjoyable action movie with some fantastic set pieces and a brilliant, central performance from Keanu Reeves. I would probably say it was a step down from Chapter 1, if only because it hits a lot of the same beats and doesn’t come out of nowhere as being surprisingly awesome. I think what makes these films work is the very slow, deliberate world-building that goes on around the rather basic revenge plotlines. John Wick’s world of assassins has a definite fantasy twist to it, and every new rule, every new artefact we see, such as ‘markers’ only asks more questions, and I think that feeling of only just scratching the surface of a mystery is very powerful. It’s why I think the fervour of my fandom for a new world is always at it’s highest right at the start. When every page is a new discovery. In John Wick,  both chapters, every scene is a new discovery. It’s why I’m both excited and nervous about the upcoming John Wick comics (even if they are by the excellent Greg Pak) and the possibility of a TV show. I want things to remain murky here. I mentioned Keanu earlier, but the rest of the cast is also great, with standouts being Ian McShane (of fucking course), Peter Serafinowicz and a very cool Matrix reunion with Reeves and Laurence Fishburne.  These John Wick movies are just a lot of fun, very cool action, strong (albeit, as I said, simple) stories and just that hint of something higher.

I then watched La La Land (Damien Chazelle 2016), finally getting around to one of this year’s big Oscar contenders after months and months of hearing and reading some rather heated debate. Now that we’re a bit removed from all that, I have to say that La La Land is a thoroughly enjoyable movie that deserves a lot of the praise it received and, in my view, not as much criticism. The opening musical sequence is just a delight, a blast of classic Hollywood movie magic in that most prosaic of places… a traffic jam. That sense of old-school big musical carries throughout, and whilst at times I feel like the balance between that and the more modern, plotty scenes is a bit off, it works more than it doesn’t.  All of the musical numbers are excellent, sticking in my head after the film, and I enjoyed how they fit into the story of Seb and Mia, both of whom are interesting, flawed characters with strong performances from Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone. At first I was surprised that Stone won an Oscar here, because it’s not the kind of role that normally wins the big awards, but in a way, that makes it even better. She just sells the whole conceit here so well. One thing I found interesting is that the movie uses the classic Hollywood musical romance style to tell the story of a relationship that doesn’t end up working out. The two main characters aren’t able to live their professional dreams together. They have to sacrifice their being together to be successful in their own fields of acting and Jazz music (speak of the Jazz thing, that whole ‘La La Land white mansplains Jazz’ thing was way overblown, yes, Seb does do that a bit, but 2, 3 scenes later, John Legend’s character disagrees with him, and is shown to be correct!). I am conflicted about that final scene, where they idealise their romance and we see how it ‘could’ have gone. I can’t quite parse the meaning just yet. But overall, La La Land is great, effortlessly charming, with a directorial style and panache that hasn’t been discussed enough I don’t think. I think I definitely need to see ‘Moonlight’ now, just to see how they stack up. La La Land is good for sure, but I can see why others didn’t like it and don’t see it as ‘worthy’. Hopefully we can forget about that now and just appreciate what an experience it is.

And finally, I went to the cinema to see Spider-Man: Homecoming (Jon Watts 2017) and it should be no surprise at this point that I loved it. Not only do I like basically every MCU film, Spider-Man is my overall favourite superhero, so having him get his own story in that universe is just what dreams are made of for this particular dork, particularly after the relative let-down of the Amazing Spider-Man movies. I would probably say that Homecoming isn’t as good as an overall film as the first 2 Raimis (particularly Spider-Man 2), but that MCU connection gives it that extra edge. Think about it, when people talk about what makes Spider-Man so special, it’s pretty much always in comparison to other superheroes. Compared to Captain America and Thor his life’s a mess. A young kid can’t identify with Batman, but they can with Spidey. Superman’s costume shows his face, but Spider-Man’s hides his, so it could be anyone under there! Spider-Man’s charm is that he’s not like other heroes, so, as good as Raimi was, given that Spider-Man is the only hero in those films, that charm is missing. Lest we forget, the very first issue of Amazing Spider-Man sees Spider try, and fail, to join the Fantastic Four. This film follows a similar path, although swap out the FF for the Avengers. Post-Civil War, Peter Parker is desperate to join the Avengers and be like Iron Man. But throughout the course of the film, he, and the audience, realise that isn’t where Spider-Man is supposed to go. He has his own corner of the Marvel Universe. A friendly neighbourhood if you will! Basically everything in this movie works. I’ll start first by saying that Tom Holland is pretty much perfect. He showed that already in Civil War, but man, he doesn’t drop the ball here. He is funny, endearing, clever and heroic. Basically, he is Spider-Man. The cameos from Robert Downey Jnr’s Tony Stark are just enough, and the way other Avengers make their presence known is just hilarious. I thought Michael Keaton was brilliant as The Vulture, making the character understandable but also very menacing. But of course, with Spider-Man, it’s not just about the superhero action, but also about the personal drama, and I think Homecoming does the best of any adaptation at nailing Peter Parker’s home-life. The scenes between Peter and (the still disarmingly hot) Aunt May are great, hinting at the tragedy that binds them, but not dragged down by them. All of the high school stuff and characters are fantastic, feeling like the best combination of the classic Lee/Ditko days and the more modern, Ultimate Spider-Man. I mean, Ned is basically just Miles Morales’ best friend Ganke (speaking of Miles, loved the reference to him with Donald Glover’s character) and the new spins given to Liz, Flash Thompson, Betty Brant and MJ are great.   I really loved Zendaya’s performance as ‘Michelle’ here, she’s a different kind of love interest, in that she barely is one at all! She came out of nowhere to be perhaps the funniest character in the film. And man, is it funny, that’s another thing Homecoming delivers where other films perhaps didn’t, the humour. The MCU is always comedic, but this is taken to another level. Can you tell I really liked this movie? I watched it after a tough week personally, and it really turned things around. Spider-Man has always taught me a lot about how to live my life, and it’s great that he continues to do so. I hope Tom Holland is inspiring a new generation of kids.

Television

Given that it’s Summah, there’s not as much TV as there usually is, but what there is to talk about is good stuff. The only returning show for me at the moment is Preacher (AMC) which is back with one hell of a bang. This second season has the series feeling a lot more confident, both in it’s ability to stick closer to the comics now that we’ve left Annville behind, but also in how it deviates from the source material. Whilst I enjoyed Season 1, Preacher really should be a road trip story, and that element is front and centre, as Jesse, Tulip and Cassidy search across America for God. Not only are they being followed by the Saint Of Killers, but recent episodes have begun to introduce my favourite antagonists from the comics, Herr Starr and The Grail. The fact that their introduction has been somewhat surprising is a sign of how good this show can be. It is familiar, but also able to give me something new. I said this a lot last year, but whilst the story may differ, the tone of this show is pure uncut Ennis and Dillon, and that’s hard to beat. The opening sequence of the Season Premiere was just the perfect mix of comedy, gross-out and violence. It blew me away. I continue to love the central performances from Dominic Cooper, Ruth Negga and Joe Gilgun. I don’t think any of them are likely to get Awards consideration, but they deserve it for me. The only real negative for me so far this season has been the Eugene/Arseface storyline, where we see what he’s up to in Hell. I get what they were trying to do, but making Hitler a sympathetic character doesn’t really work. It just felt like the wrong kind of ‘offensive’ for Preacher. But the sequences showing Eugene reliving his worst memory were some of the best the show has done. Preacher is a series that’s not for everyone, but as a fan of the comics, I really enjoy it a lot, Rogen and Goldberg continue to grow and evolve the show, and it’s really very exciting.

I also watched 2 Netflix originals in their entireties. First was Five Came Back (Netflix), a 3-part documentary series about the filmmaking exploits of 5 famous Hollywood Directors during WW2; John Ford, William Wyler, John Huston, Frank Capra and George Stevens. The series uses a lot of fascinating archival footage, and also pairs each of the 5 with a modern director; Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola, Guillermo Del Toro, Lawrence Kasan and Paul Greengrass. I found this to be a fantastic, powerful documentary, which made me look at not just these individual directors differently, but also see cinema as a whole and WW2 in a new light. The first episode is a little slow, introducing us to the 5 men’s lives before the War, but the later episodes are on a whole other level, and just blew me away with the footage they shot. One thing that really brings it home is the fact that a lot of what, particularly Ford and Stevens shot, was in colour. You don’t often see WW2 in colour, but it made it feel so much more real and effective. The football of Dachau concentration camp in colour was particularly harrowing. You just don’t expect to see that in colour. It was incredibly powerful and you really see why, after his experiences, George Stevens felt he was no longer able to direct comedy films, and instead only did drama from then on. It changed him so deeply. One thing that’s particularly cool about this series is that Netflix have also put a lot of the propaganda films the Directors made on the site as well. I haven’t watched any yet, but I am intrigued. It’s certainly made me more interested in their wider careers. I’ve seen most of Ford and Capra’s big pictures, but the likes of Wyler, Huston (who I know more as an actor) and Stevens I don’t think I’ve see any films of. If anyone can show me how I can see ‘The Best Years Of Our Lives’ in the UK, let me know, it looks like a fantastic counter piece to ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’. If you have any interest in the golden age of Cinema or WW2, you have to watch this series, it is a superb examination of both.

Over the space of just about 3 weeks I watched every episode of GLOW (Netflix), which really is fantastic. Given that I like the bastard art form that is professional wrestling, I was already pre-disposed to liking this series, but it transcends that to become a top quality series in it’s own right that, actually acts as a fantastic explanation of why ‘sports entertainment’ works. If you have any friends or family that don’t quite get it, I think GLOW, rather than any 5-star match or amazing promo will help you explain. Over the course of 10 episodes GLOW introduces some truly fantastic characters, delivers some brilliantly funny moments and also provides enough depth and drama so as not to be ridiculous. The way the series plays with stereotypes is just excellent, as pretty much everyone defies your expectations. The central performances from Alison Brie, Marc Maron and Betty Gilpin are the standouts, but really, everyone is good. I was very surprised to see UK pop star Kate Nash appear as Rhonda. I had no idea she could even act, but she was hilarious in all her scenes. It was also great to see Knives Chau from Scott Pilgrim, Ellen Wong appear, and as a fan of the much maligned 3rd season of Veronica Mars and poor Piz, Chris Lowell was fun as Bash. But the main thing here is Brie, whose Ruth is just one of the great modern TV protagonists. She manages to be both sympathetic and also an awful person at times, and it was great to see her slowly get her confidence back as she develops the ‘Zoya The Destroya’ persona. Her Russian heel accent is so damn good. One thing I liked is that the show treated Wrestling seriously, and that the matches we do see were kind of good, by 80s standards. It was great to see so many cameos from real wrestlers, the likes of Johnny Mundo, Tyrus, Carlito, Joey Ryan, Alex Riley (surprisingly good? How did this happen, he was so bad!), Kazarian and Daniels and of course, Awesome Kong/Kharma, who plays the biggest role in the series. GLOW is just a fun ride from start to finish, and I think it’s probably the best paced Netflix show I’ve watched. Most of their shows, as much as I enjoy them, tend to lag in the middle, but with this? I could have easily watched 3, 4 more episodes. Perhaps it’s the 1980s setting? Both this and Stranger Things kept the pace. I can’t wait for a second season, and man, if WWE knows what they’re doing, they should try and get some of the stars of GLOW to appear at Summerslam a la Stephen Amell. I mean, Smackdown already has a sexy Russian villain and a heroic champion who literally feels the Glow. It makes almost too much sense.

Now for some quick hits!

The 2-part iZombie (The CW) was really excellent, and set the series up for a very different 4th season next year. Zombies are now public knowledge, and a significant proportion of Seattle’s population are now Zombies. This is what the series has sort of been building to all along, but I don’t know if I ever actually expected it to happen. Now that it has, I am very excited to see what it will be like. Part of me will miss the classic dynamic of eating brains and solving crimes, but I have faith that the writers can keep the sense of humour and we won’t lose what makes the show fun.

The finale of American Gods (Starz) was very strong, particularly for an amazing Ian McShane monologue, the appearance of several Jesuses (Jesi?) and another brilliantly stylish flashback sequence focusing on Bilquis, but man, 8 episodes was too short a season, I feel like Fuller and Green have only just gotten started! Part of me thinks I should re-read Gaiman’s novel before Season 2, but I also like the fact that my memory is so hazy, it means I can still be surprised, like Preacher. These 2 shows actually have quite a few similarities now that I think about it.

Silicon Valley (HBO) ended it’s 4th season with the departure of one the main characters, Ehrlich Bachman, and I have to say it was bittersweet. I will mis T.J. Miller’s scene-stealing performance, but they way he left? Just abandoned by Gavin in Tibet to do drugs? It was so damn funny. I hope the series will be as strong without him, I think it might actually help them shake things up a bit and allow the plot to progress a bit more, because whilst this series is always funny, Season 4 did feel a bit like ‘2 steps forward, 1 step back’ at times.

The last few episodes of Veep (HBO) Season 6 were a bit like that too, although probably intentionally? Especially given that the finale featured flashbacks to throughout Selina’s political career. I am wary of her running for President again, but at this point I could watch these actors do anything, they are so funny, and I think that David Mandel and his writers, whilst different from Iannucci, have a firm handle on them. Veep is just a comedic classic at this point, and if a Presidential comedy can still be funny in the age of Trump, it really is good.

Music

Two albums to talk about this month, and both a returns for recent favourites of mine. First up is How Did We Get So Dark? (Warner Bros. Records 2017), the second album from Royal Blood. With this record, the Brighton two-piece don’t exactly reinvent the wheel, once more delivering 10 blistering rock tracks in the space of about 35 minutes. But when the wheel you’ve already got is so damn good, then it doesn’t really matter does it? This is another great collection of rock songs, that hit hard and stick in your memory. Given that this is reportedly a break-up album, the subject matter of the songs is probably a little darker than the self-titled debut, but with Royal Blood, the lyrics tend not to matter as much as the feel of the song, of the bass and the drums just kicking in your face. I would say my my favourite song on here is probably ‘Hook, Line And Sinker’, but the title track is also great, and really, they’re all excellent. I suppose it would have been interesting to see what a more experimental Royal Blood album would be like, but for now, I’m fine with a bit more of their formula. If they haven’t changed after 2 or 3 more albums, then I’ll be worried.

Public Service Broadcasting’s Every Valley (PIAS Recordings 2017) does however represent a rather big evolution for the band in question, as they are now no longer sampling old films and documentaries, but actually feature some singing! This record is another concept album, with the band once again examining an area of history. One might think that Welsh Mining would be nowhere near as exciting as ‘The Race For Space’, but it turns out it is, and, in my opinion at least, makes for a better album, their best yet. Given the current surge in left-wing politics in this country, this is now a very timely album and one that has resonated with me a lot. One of my great-grandfathers was a miner, albeit not in Wales, so there’s that personal connection too. The mines allowed so many working class people to provide for their families, and that allowed subsequent generations to prosper, leading to my generation of the family being far more middle class and comfortable. When the mines and other industries were gone, I think Britain lost that social mobility, and we need to bring that back. Enough politics though, what about the music? It’s fantastic, with PSB’s familiar excellent musicianship married not only with iconic, memorable samples, but as I said, also with some original singing from some great guest-stars, such as Tracyanne Campbell from Camera Obscura and James Dean Bradfield of The Manic Street Preachers. However I think the best song features singing from the band itself, as J. Willgoose Esq himself duets with Lisa Jen Brown on the heartbreaking ‘You + Me’. That song is just wonderful even outside of the concept. It has extra meaning because of the other songs around it, but can stand alone I think. The same can also be said for the final track, ‘Take Me Home’, which features a resounding chorus from a real Welsh men’s choir. The last few tracks here, after the strikes and after the mines have been shuttered just wreck me. I almost cried when I first heard them. This is just a wonderful album, from a brilliant band that always impress and look to do new things. They could easily be a novelty, gimmick band, but this shows they are so much more.

Books

Not to toot my own horn too much, but sometimes I can be an astute, intuitive motherfucker. Last month, when talking about Moonglow (2016) by Michael Chabon, I wrote that it reminded me a lot of Gravity’s Rainbow. Well, only a few pages later… Chabon brings up that book in the text! That brought a real smile to my face, as did the rest of this novel, as well as a fair few tears. Chabon’s depiction of his grandfather’s life comes together very well, telling a fascinating story about some very interesting people. The revelation of just what Chabon’s grandmother’s secret was blew me away, especially in the rather nonchalant way it was explained. It wasn’t some big bomb-shell (this book has enough literal ones of those!) but a slow unravelling. Like I said, it was emotional, and I can only imagine what it was like for Michael Chabon and his family to discover and for him to write about. This is a very strong book from a brilliant writer, yes, it’s a deeply personal story about his family, but I think the themes brought up are applicable to almost anyone. It certainly made me reflect on my relationships with my parents and particularly my grandparents. All 4 of them are dead now, but I certainly feel like I should speak to my Dad and Aunts and Uncles to get a better sense of where I come from.

I’m currently reading Dorian Lynskey’s 33 Revolutions Per Minute: A History Of Protest Songs (2010), which is, as the title would suggest, a history of protest music throughout the 20th century. Lynskey writes about 33 songs and how they reflected and even formed social change. This is a very interesting read, and in these politically tumultuous times, one that feels very vital, even if it is 7 years old. One thing that I appreciate here is the breadth of songs Lynskey chooses to write about. Some of them are very familiar to me, like ‘Strange Fruit’ or ‘Give Peace A Chance’ and others I’ve never heard of! I’m excited to find out more, and luckily, every song in this book apart from one is on Apple Music, so I’ve been able to compile a playlist so after reading a chapter I can listen to the actual song. I’m currently just getting up to the 1970s, with the next chapter to read being ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’ by Gil Scott-Heron, which is just a classic. Of course, this book is more than just a music book, and instead reflects the changes in Western, particularly American, society.  A lot of these early chapters are about Civil Rights, and then Vietnam. From reading the contents,  that’s going to evolve into Gay Rights, and feminism, and many other causes. Every chapter teaches me something new, not just about the musicians, but about the protest movements themselves. The only negative thing really is that reading this book has shone a light on the fact that our current political climate is sorely missing any good protest songs. The final chapter in this book is Green Day’s ‘American Idiot’, and that song is nearly 15 years old! I think it’s because the left is so much more cynical nowadays, when we see a song with a ‘message’, we dismiss it as preachy and smug? That’s certainly what I tend to think,  but then again, I do like a lot of the songs in this book! I suppose if he did an update Lynskey could write about ‘Oooohhhh, Jeremy Corbyn’ to the tune of Seven Nation Army? That’s about as close as we get these days.

Games

Much to my shame, I have barely had any time for video games this month. I haven’t even touched Zelda! I am a failure to the people of Hyrule. I hope they'll forgive me. I have however still been playing Mario Kart 8 Deluxe (Nintendo Switch) when I have a spare half an hour or so. I’ve been playing it in Hand-Held Mode this time, and it is just so awesome to be playing a hand-held Mario Kart Game with such awesome graphics. I can remember playing the shit out of Mario Kart Super Circuit on the Gameboy Advance, and this is bringing back fond memories… only it’s 100 times better and bigger. One thing that I think is going to increase my playing time going forward is that I’ve just picked up a Switch Carry Case. Now I’ll have nothing to worry about in putting it in my bag and gaming on the go. Now that I have this case, I think I’ll start using the Switch to it’s full potential and perhaps actually get on with Zelda once more.

—

So that’s your lot, I hope you enjoyed it. I must admit that even though this was shorter than normal, writing this was a bit like pulling teeth!

Hopefully next month will be easier, especially because Game Of Thrones is back! Oh man, I’m excited for that.

[becccaaawww1989]

Starting with my family. Although I couldn't choose you, for some damn reason, being a Garber means that we are extremely loyal. Everyone in my family is loyal, it’s a trait none of us can seem to shake despite how many times it destroys us. 

Although I couldn't choose you at the beginning, I continued to choose you. Speaking more towards my parents, you put me through hell, yet I continued to choose you, pray for you, stand by your side and defend you. Even now I find myself trying to defend you, saying that you’re trying, you’re trying to make it work, or that you’ve just been given a bad hand. Somehow I escaped it, but I realize that it’s more than that. No matter how many times I say otherwise to other people. 

You weren’t dealt the wrong hand. You made shitty decisions. You chose to get married and have me at a young age. You chose to leave college before you graduated, you chose to not go into the field that you studied and graduated with. You chose to not be able to take care of the house in Missouri. Enough times that we had to leave Missouri so that there was no risking my sister and I being taken away from Child Protective Services if they got another call. 

YOU CHOSE THIS!

We could have had a decent life in Missouri, Mom working for Head Quarters to the Assemblies of God. I could have grown up with Casey and Micah as my best friends. We could have said goodbye to Brant and Joanne as they left for missions. Dad, you and I could have gone fishing on the weekends. Mom, you and I could have taken weekend trips to Silver Dollar City. Missouri was good. I still don’t understand why Child Protective Services was called, or the full reason why we had to move back to Ohio, but I feel like our problems started there. 

I don’t hate you, and I still love you. Sometimes, I still choose you. I’ve chosen to try and help you. I’ve chosen to help Bethany and Josh, and still spend Holidays with you. Because I am freaking loyal - and I hate it sometimes. As much as I want to, I can’t just pack everything up, leave you behind and start a life for myself. 

But for my own mental well being, and financial situation, I’ve had to not choose you. I’ve had to choose me, and choose those who also choose me. This post is for all those times you didn't choose me. The times you couldn’t keep the damn house clean enough to not stay out of the system, the times you had to borrow money, the times I had to skip school to clean the house, this post is for last summer when you couldn’t control your alcohol intake and tried to rape Mom and was charged with a felony. This post is for inviting me to universal studios and then choosing Dad - who you had a restraining order against. This post is for having my bank account connected to yours, and when you were hundreds of dollars in the whole, the bank taking all of my money out to cover your ass. This post is for sitting in Evan’s Mom’s bank with a nearly empty tank of gas, crying because I had to close my bank account, crying because the only money I had was the 20 dollars Evan’s Mom gave me. 

This is for all of those completely fucked up situations that only YOU could put me through. 

[julesdelorme]

faller

Chapter 8

Suckers

There’s a sucker born every minute.

Every single fucking minute.

The wife doesn’t like it when I swear. She keeps a swear jar at home. 

I put money in it every day even though we’re never going to have kids to give the money to. 

She’s a good woman.

She’s entitled to her delusions after all I put her through. I never mention that the jar doesn’t really have a point. Every day I put money in and it just stays there. It just sits there. There’s a bunch of them now and they don’t do anything but sit there full of money. I don’t touch them. She doesn’t touch them. We go to church every Sunday and she holds my hand, and I’m just glad that she stayed with me all these years.

She knows who I am. She knows the kinds of things that I do. She knows all about me. I never lie to her. I don’t talk about the things that I do and she never asks, but I never lie to her. She knows. And still she stays. Still she loves me.

So let her have her swear jar that gets so full of money that neither one of us will ever touch, that gets so full of money that I keep having to buy bigger and bigger swear jars, and we laugh about that.

She’s a good woman.

I guess she’s a sucker for loving me, but she’s my sucker.

All those other suckers though. All those other suckers with their stupid vacant grins and their pathetic excuses for why their lives have gone to shit or why their lives have always been shit.

Two more for the swear jar.

You’re either the sucker or the guy taking the sucker. And I decided a long time ago that I was going to be the guy taking the sucker. 

I’m definitely going to find a way to take this particular sucker. Even if he is in jail again. His kid is still there. Just the kid and that dirty goat. I can find a way to leverage that situation. Give a man a lever and he can move the world. Not quite sure how just yet, but I’ll figure something out when I get there. I always do.

This way to the Egress, folks.

All those suckers lying to themselves all the time, telling themselves some story about god or the way the world is supposed to work, but in the end the world works the way it works whether they like it or not. Predator or prey. The one that eats or the one that gets eaten. That’s the world. That’s the real world.

You don’t need to grow up on this piece of shit Rez to know that.

Another one for the jar.

I tried arguing once with her once that shit shouldn’t be considered a swear word. It’s just describing a normal bodily function that we all have to do pretty much every single day. We don’t think of sweat or scratch as swear words. They’re just things that we do but don’t like to talk about. Lots of things like that. More that we don’t want to talk about than we do. But I guess that a swear word is whatever we say it is, because we’re the ones that get to decide what offends us or doesn’t. No matter if it’s all phoney and the words people get offended by are the things that they do every day or think about every day but just don’t want to talk about.

Let her have that. Sometimes you’ve got to play by the rules of the game, even if they don’t make any sense. And sometimes you just make up the rules as you go. Sometimes you find a way to use the rules or bend the rules a little, and you’re a fool if you don’t, because someone else will, and you’ll end up being the sucker. Someone else will get to feed on the broken corpses of your stupid rules. 

My job, in theory, is to make sure that those rules don’t get broken or bent too far. But my job in the real world is to figure out how far those rules can be bent and to make use of this badge that they were fool enough to pin on me so that me and mine get the most out of this life, and that we’re not the suckers, we’re not the prey.

Not like this drunk and his messed up kid.

All that council money now. All the casino money. And these suckers got themselves some free land, a nice house, a boat, and then they go to blowing all the money they got and the money they get every year. It doesn’t take a genius to talk them out of that land and that house. 

They can keep their boats. But that land is worth something to people who know how to take advantage, and it doesn’t matter that those are the people who aren’t even allowed to own this land. There’s always someone who is. There’s always someone who is willing to take the money just to have their name on a piece of paper, and that someone is me. It it wasn’t me, it would be someone else.

It was good enough for Joseph Brant, it’s sure good enough for me.

This idiot doesn’t even have the boat and he burned most of his house down, almost killed that creepy kid. Himself. And even that dirty goat. He doesn’t deserve that land. He never earned it.

All these idiots would just sit there in their new houses, the same people that they were when there was no council money and casino money, and do nothing with all that land, with all this valuable border land. They don’t know what they’ve got. They don’t know what they’ve been given. They just know how to lose it.

Suckers.

They see a badge and a uniform, that most of them didn’t even bother to vote to give me and they believe anything that I tell them, or they’re too scared of the uniform to say no. Either way.

Suckers.

Somebody’s going to take their money. Somebody’s going to take their land. Might as well be me as anybody else. Suckers are born to be suckered. Prey is born to be eaten. It’s not the wolf’s fault that the pigs didn’t know how to build a house.

I watched my old man drink and piss away everything he ever got. Blamed it all on the white man. Blamed it all on the system. Blamed it all on my mother. Never once looked in the mirror and saw that he was the sucker and it wasn’t anyone’s fault that he didn’t have the backbone or the brains to make something out of himself. It wasn’t the Residential Schools or the Church or the Government’s fault that he stood there and took it and did nothing but feel sorry for himself.

Wasn’t anybody’s fault that he was a waste of space. That was on him. He was the sucker. And my mother was the sucker for staying and taking all his shit.

Not me. 

Not me.

No, I joined the army just to get off this shitty reserve, off this shitty island. Came back and made something out of myself. Got myself a degree and when they wanted to put me on the council, I took it. When they wanted to put the badge on me I took that too. I’ll take more than that the first chance I get. I keep the peace. I can’t stop every single asshole from being an asshole, but I do what I can.

Another two for the jar.

Three.

Four.

Keep the laws that matter and bend other ones any way that I can bend them. Law of the jungle.

Stupid people shouldn’t be alive anyway. They’re out there having babies by the bushel with no money that they earned, and no brains and their kids end up as stupid as them, like cows that don’t even know that they’re being fattened up for slaughter.

Fuck them.

One more for the jar.

Fuck them twice.

Two for the jar.

They talk about fairness and how the world was a paradise before the white man showed up, but half us were killing the other half, and half of us are still killing the other half. Booze and drugs and shooting each other when they’re drunk or wasted. Running each other down on the road or the river. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the wrecks. I’ve seen the bodies. The suicides. Some people are just too stupid to be alive, or too weak to be alive, and back in the old days if that was you, you were the one that ended up dead. Now you get to to do stupid things to hurt other people. Kill other people.

We had wars. Our ancestors killed other people’s ancestors. Ate some of them. Parts of them. That’s what our own stories say. When the priests came here we did the same thing to them. They chose the wrong side so we killed them and we tortured them and cut their skin off and ate their hearts. Cut off Brebeuf’s lips and stuck a burning stick down his throat.

Paradise my ass.

Wasn’t one then and it sure as hell isn’t one now. Maybe a paradise for the winners. Maybe a paradise for the hunters and the killers. Paradise is what you make. Paradise is what you can take. Paradise is for the ones strong enough and smart enough not to be the prey.

Cain killed Abel because Abel was too stupid and too weak to be alive.

Survival of the fittest. Sucker born every minute.

Fuck them.

One for the jar.

If we had a kid he’d be one rich motherfucker.

Fuck.

Two.

Better off than this poor kid. His father would sign anything you put in front of him once you get him drunk. Sooner or later he’s just going to kill himself and that kid. Too stupid to be alive. Dumb motherfucker.

Fuck.

Two more.

Just another mean drunk. Just another sucker. And that kid. That kid gives me the creeps. Hardly ever talks. Stands there staring off into space like he’s in some kind of trance. Talking to that kid’s like talking to that stupid goat of his. Just stares at you and stares like he sees you but like he sees past you too. You just can’t tell what the hell is going on inside that kid’s head. Gives me the creeps.

Hell is not a swear word.

Not anymore. 

I’ve seen hell. I know what it looks like. 

Definitely not a swear word.

Kid gives me the creeps. Damn goat gives me the creeps too.

Damn’s not a swear work either. They say it on TV all the time. They say all kinds of shit on TV nowadays.

Fuck.

Two more.

Best thing that ever happened to that kid if I took him in, put him in the system. Living in that burned out house all alone. Not my fault his father’s an asshole. That prick sober and locked up is meaner than any rattlesnake and more disagreeable too. But maybe the boy could give me some leverage. Maybe that kid could be useful for something at least.

Prick.

That’s a swear word.

Yeah. 

It’s a swear word.

Fuck.

That jar’s going to be full. Our kid would be a billionaire, if we could have one.

Going to have to buy another jar. Put it beside all the other ones.

Kid really gives me the creeps. Probably retarded or something. Be better off in the system.

Car in the driveway. There’s a fucking car in their driveway.

Probably that girl. Pretty one. Seen her here before. Heard she’s trying to take care of the kid. Not sure why. What her angle is. Don’t think she’s a social worker or a teacher. Kind of looks like she could be part Indian or maybe Oriental. Hard to tell sometimes. Could be related to the kid somehow. Except she doesn’t look like she’s from this place. Not sure what her angle is and I don’t like people who are up to things I can’t figure out. 

Going to have to dig into that. Find out who the hell she is and if she’s going to be a problem.

What the hell is she doing?

She’s just standing in the driveway. Staring at something. Behind the house. Maybe the field. She’s just standing there. Bag of groceries spilled out all over the driveway. Can’t see what she’s looking at.  Must be something that matters. She should have heard my car. She hasn’t looked back even once, and she’s not taking notice of all that mess in the driveway.

What the hell is she doing?

I don’t like complications. I fucking hate complications.

One more for the jar.

Two more. Losing count.

I can’t see the boy. I can’t see anything behind that burned up house. Maybe something happened to the kid. Out here all alone, something bad was bound to happen. Not sure how that breaks down for me. Might be hard to reason with that prick after something like that. Or if maybe something like this’d leave him open to be manipulated.

I don’t like complications.

Just stop the car. Sit here for a moment. Try to figure out the situation before I go jumping in.

Fuck. She’s looking back at me now. She sees me.

The look on her face. What is that look on her face? Fear? Relief?

Guess I’m going to have to find out.

If I wasn’t married I’d fuck the hell out of her.

Shit.

Going to need a whole new swear jar.

Okay.

Hate complications. I really fucking hate complications.

Don’t like not knowing what I’m walking into. Only one way to find out, I guess. One way to find out who the sucker’s going to be.

This way to the Egress, folks. This way to the fucking Egress.

Going to need a whole new jar. 

Going to need some way bigger fucking jars. 

#fiction #writing #writers #authors #author #novels #novelnovels #newnovels #julesdelorme #julesfdelorme #faller #delormewriting #scarboroughwritersfightclub #story #bear #native #nativestories #metis #metisstories

[julesdelorme]

faller

Chapter 8

Suckers

There’s a sucker born every minute.

Every single fucking minute.

The wife doesn’t like it when I swear. She keeps a swear jar at home. 

I put money in it every day even though we’re never going to have kids to give the money to. 

She’s a good woman.

She’s entitled to her delusions after all I put her through. I never mention that the jar doesn’t really have a point. Every day I put money in and it just stays there. It just sits there. There’s a bunch of them now and they don’t do anything but sit there full of money. I don’t touch them. She doesn’t touch them. We go to church every Sunday and she holds my hand, and I’m just glad that she stayed with me all these years.

She knows who I am. She knows the kinds of things that I do. She knows all about me. I never lie to her. I don’t talk about the things that I do and she never asks, but I never lie to her. She knows. And still she stays. Still she loves me.

So let her have her swear jar that gets so full of money that neither one of us will ever touch, that gets so full of money that I keep having to buy bigger and bigger swear jars, and we laugh about that.

She’s a good woman.

I guess she’s a sucker for loving me, but she’s my sucker.

All those other suckers though. All those other suckers with their stupid vacant grins and their pathetic excuses for why their lives have gone to shit or why their lives have always been shit.

Two more for the swear jar.

You’re either the sucker or the guy taking the sucker. And I decided a long time ago that I was going to be the guy taking the sucker. 

I’m definitely going to find a way to take this particular sucker. Even if he is in jail again. His kid is still there. Just the kid and that dirty goat. I can find a way to leverage that situation. Give a man a lever and he can move the world. Not quite sure how just yet, but I’ll figure something out when I get there. I always do.

This way to the Egress, folks.

All those suckers lying to themselves all the time, telling themselves some story about god or the way the world is supposed to work, but in the end the world works the way it works whether they like it or not. Predator or prey. The one that eats or the one that gets eaten. That’s the world. That’s the real world.

You don’t need to grow up on this piece of shit Rez to know that.

Another one for the jar.

I tried arguing once with her once that shit shouldn’t be considered a swear word. It’s just describing a normal bodily function that we all have to do pretty much every single day. We don’t think of sweat or scratch as swear words. They’re just things that we do but don’t like to talk about. Lots of things like that. More that we don’t want to talk about than we do. But I guess that a swear word is whatever we say it is, because we’re the ones that get to decide what offends us or doesn’t. No matter if it’s all phoney and the words people get offended by are the things that they do every day or think about every day but just don’t want to talk about.

Let her have that. Sometimes you’ve got to play by the rules of the game, even if they don’t make any sense. And sometimes you just make up the rules as you go. Sometimes you find a way to use the rules or bend the rules a little, and you’re a fool if you don’t, because someone else will, and you’ll end up being the sucker. Someone else will get to feed on the broken corpses of your stupid rules. 

My job, in theory, is to make sure that those rules don’t get broken or bent too far. But my job in the real world is to figure out how far those rules can be bent and to make use of this badge that they were fool enough to pin on me so that me and mine get the most out of this life, and that we’re not the suckers, we’re not the prey.

Not like this drunk and his messed up kid.

All that council money now. All the casino money. And these suckers got themselves some free land, a nice house, a boat, and then they go to blowing all the money they got and the money they get every year. It doesn’t take a genius to talk them out of that land and that house. 

They can keep their boats. But that land is worth something to people who know how to take advantage, and it doesn’t matter that those are the people who aren’t even allowed to own this land. There’s always someone who is. There’s always someone who is willing to take the money just to have their name on a piece of paper, and that someone is me. It it wasn’t me, it would be someone else.

It was good enough for Joseph Brant, it’s sure good enough for me.

This idiot doesn’t even have the boat and he burned most of his house down, almost killed that creepy kid. Himself. And even that dirty goat. He doesn’t deserve that land. He never earned it.

All these idiots would just sit there in their new houses, the same people that they were when there was no council money and casino money, and do nothing with all that land, with all this valuable border land. They don’t know what they’ve got. They don’t know what they’ve been given. They just know how to lose it.

Suckers.

They see a badge and a uniform, that most of them didn’t even bother to vote to give me and they believe anything that I tell them, or they’re too scared of the uniform to say no. Either way.

Suckers.

Somebody’s going to take their money. Somebody’s going to take their land. Might as well be me as anybody else. Suckers are born to be suckered. Prey is born to be eaten. It’s not the wolf’s fault that the pigs didn’t know how to build a house.

I watched my old man drink and piss away everything he ever got. Blamed it all on the white man. Blamed it all on the system. Blamed it all on my mother. Never once looked in the mirror and saw that he was the sucker and it wasn’t anyone’s fault that he didn’t have the backbone or the brains to make something out of himself. It wasn’t the Residential Schools or the Church or the Government’s fault that he stood there and took it and did nothing but feel sorry for himself.

Wasn’t anybody’s fault that he was a waste of space. That was on him. He was the sucker. And my mother was the sucker for staying and taking all his shit.

Not me. 

Not me.

No, I joined the army just to get off this shitty reserve, off this shitty island. Came back and made something out of myself. Got myself a degree and when they wanted to put me on the council, I took it. When they wanted to put the badge on me I took that too. I’ll take more than that the first chance I get. I keep the peace. I can’t stop every single asshole from being an asshole, but I do what I can.

Another two for the jar.

Three.

Four.

Keep the laws that matter and bend other ones any way that I can bend them. Law of the jungle.

Stupid people shouldn’t be alive anyway. They’re out there having babies by the bushel with no money that they earned, and no brains and their kids end up as stupid as them, like cows that don’t even know that they’re being fattened up for slaughter.

Fuck them.

One more for the jar.

Fuck them twice.

Two for the jar.

They talk about fairness and how the world was a paradise before the white man showed up, but half us were killing the other half, and half of us are still killing the other half. Booze and drugs and shooting each other when they’re drunk or wasted. Running each other down on the road or the river. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the wrecks. I’ve seen the bodies. The suicides. Some people are just too stupid to be alive, or too weak to be alive, and back in the old days if that was you, you were the one that ended up dead. Now you get to to do stupid things to hurt other people. Kill other people.

We had wars. Our ancestors killed other people’s ancestors. Ate some of them. Parts of them. That’s what our own stories say. When the priests came here we did the same thing to them. They chose the wrong side so we killed them and we tortured them and cut their skin off and ate their hearts. Cut off Brebeuf’s lips and stuck a burning stick down his throat.

Paradise my ass.

Wasn’t one then and it sure as hell isn’t one now. Maybe a paradise for the winners. Maybe a paradise for the hunters and the killers. Paradise is what you make. Paradise is what you can take. Paradise is for the ones strong enough and smart enough not to be the prey.

Cain killed Abel because Abel was too stupid and too weak to be alive.

Survival of the fittest. Sucker born every minute.

Fuck them.

One for the jar.

If we had a kid he’d be one rich motherfucker.

Fuck.

Two.

Better off than this poor kid. His father would sign anything you put in front of him once you get him drunk. Sooner or later he’s just going to kill himself and that kid. Too stupid to be alive. Dumb motherfucker.

Fuck.

Two more.

Just another mean drunk. Just another sucker. And that kid. That kid gives me the creeps. Hardly ever talks. Stands there staring off into space like he’s in some kind of trance. Talking to that kid’s like talking to that stupid goat of his. Just stares at you and stares like he sees you but like he sees past you too. You just can’t tell what the hell is going on inside that kid’s head. Gives me the creeps.

Hell is not a swear word.

Not anymore. 

I’ve seen hell. I know what it looks like. 

Definitely not a swear word.

Kid gives me the creeps. Damn goat gives me the creeps too.

Damn’s not a swear work either. They say it on TV all the time. They say all kinds of shit on TV nowadays.

Fuck.

Two more.

Best thing that ever happened to that kid if I took him in, put him in the system. Living in that burned out house all alone. Not my fault his father’s an asshole. That prick sober and locked up is meaner than any rattlesnake and more disagreeable too. But maybe the boy could give me some leverage. Maybe that kid could be useful for something at least.

Prick.

That’s a swear word.

Yeah. 

It’s a swear word.

Fuck.

That jar’s going to be full. Our kid would be a billionaire, if we could have one.

Going to have to buy another jar. Put it beside all the other ones.

Kid really gives me the creeps. Probably retarded or something. Be better off in the system.

Car in the driveway. There’s a fucking car in their driveway.

Probably that girl. Pretty one. Seen her here before. Heard she’s trying to take care of the kid. Not sure why. What her angle is. Don’t think she’s a social worker or a teacher. Kind of looks like she could be part Indian or maybe Oriental. Hard to tell sometimes. Could be related to the kid somehow. Except she doesn’t look like she’s from this place. Not sure what her angle is and I don’t like people who are up to things I can’t figure out. 

Going to have to dig into that. Find out who the hell she is and if she’s going to be a problem.

What the hell is she doing?

She’s just standing in the driveway. Staring at something. Behind the house. Maybe the field. She’s just standing there. Bag of groceries spilled out all over the driveway. Can’t see what she’s looking at.  Must be something that matters. She should have heard my car. She hasn’t looked back even once, and she’s not taking notice of all that mess in the driveway.

What the hell is she doing?

I don’t like complications. I fucking hate complications.

One more for the jar.

Two more. Losing count.

I can’t see the boy. I can’t see anything behind that burned up house. Maybe something happened to the kid. Out here all alone, something bad was bound to happen. Not sure how that breaks down for me. Might be hard to reason with that prick after something like that. Or if maybe something like this’d leave him open to be manipulated.

I don’t like complications.

Just stop the car. Sit here for a moment. Try to figure out the situation before I go jumping in.

Fuck. She’s looking back at me now. She sees me.

The look on her face. What is that look on her face? Fear? Relief?

Guess I’m going to have to find out.

If I wasn’t married I’d fuck the hell out of her.

Shit.

Going to need a whole new swear jar.

Okay.

Hate complications. I really fucking hate complications.

Don’t like not knowing what I’m walking into. Only one way to find out, I guess. One way to find out who the sucker’s going to be.

This way to the Egress, folks. This way to the fucking Egress.

Going to need a whole new jar. 

Going to need some way bigger fucking jars. 

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#fiction #writing #writers #authors #author #novels #novelnovels#newnovels #julesdelorme #julesfdelorme #faller #delormewriting#scarboroughwritersfightclub #story #bear #native #nativestories #metis#metisstories

[julesdelorme]

faller

Chapter 8

Suckers

There’s a sucker born every minute.

Every single fucking minute.

The wife doesn’t like it when I swear. She keeps a swear jar at home. 

I put money in it every day even though we’re never going to have kids to give the money to. 

She’s a good woman.

She’s entitled to her delusions after all I put her through. I never mention that the jar doesn’t really have a point. Every day I put money in and it just stays there. It just sits there. There’s a bunch of them now and they don’t do anything but sit there full of money. I don’t touch them. She doesn’t touch them. We go to church every Sunday and she holds my hand, and I’m just glad that she stayed with me all these years.

She knows who I am. She knows the kinds of things that I do. She knows all about me. I never lie to her. I don’t talk about the things that I do and she never asks, but I never lie to her. She knows. And still she stays. Still she loves me.

So let her have her swear jar that gets so full of money that neither one of us will ever touch, that gets so full of money that I keep having to buy bigger and bigger swear jars, and we laugh about that.

She’s a good woman.

I guess she’s a sucker for loving me, but she’s my sucker.

All those other suckers though. All those other suckers with their stupid vacant grins and their pathetic excuses for why their lives have gone to shit or why their lives have always been shit.

Two more for the swear jar.

You’re either the sucker or the guy taking the sucker. And I decided a long time ago that I was going to be the guy taking the sucker. 

I’m definitely going to find a way to take this particular sucker. Even if he is in jail again. His kid is still there. Just the kid and that dirty goat. I can find a way to leverage that situation. Give a man a lever and he can move the world. Not quite sure how just yet, but I’ll figure something out when I get there. I always do.

This way to the Egress, folks.

All those suckers lying to themselves all the time, telling themselves some story about god or the way the world is supposed to work, but in the end the world works the way it works whether they like it or not. Predator or prey. The one that eats or the one that gets eaten. That’s the world. That’s the real world.

You don’t need to grow up on this piece of shit Rez to know that.

Another one for the jar.

I tried arguing once with her once that shit shouldn’t be considered a swear word. It’s just describing a normal bodily function that we all have to do pretty much every single day. We don’t think of sweat or scratch as swear words. They’re just things that we do but don’t like to talk about. Lots of things like that. More that we don’t want to talk about than we do. But I guess that a swear word is whatever we say it is, because we’re the ones that get to decide what offends us or doesn’t. No matter if it’s all phoney and the words people get offended by are the things that they do every day or think about every day but just don’t want to talk about.

Let her have that. Sometimes you’ve got to play by the rules of the game, even if they don’t make any sense. And sometimes you just make up the rules as you go. Sometimes you find a way to use the rules or bend the rules a little, and you’re a fool if you don’t, because someone else will, and you’ll end up being the sucker. Someone else will get to feed on the broken corpses of your stupid rules. 

My job, in theory, is to make sure that those rules don’t get broken or bent too far. But my job in the real world is to figure out how far those rules can be bent and to make use of this badge that they were fool enough to pin on me so that me and mine get the most out of this life, and that we’re not the suckers, we’re not the prey.

Not like this drunk and his messed up kid.

All that council money now. All the casino money. And these suckers got themselves some free land, a nice house, a boat, and then they go to blowing all the money they got and the money they get every year. It doesn’t take a genius to talk them out of that land and that house. 

They can keep their boats. But that land is worth something to people who know how to take advantage, and it doesn’t matter that those are the people who aren’t even allowed to own this land. There’s always someone who is. There’s always someone who is willing to take the money just to have their name on a piece of paper, and that someone is me. It it wasn’t me, it would be someone else.

It was good enough for Joseph Brant, it’s sure good enough for me.

This idiot doesn’t even have the boat and he burned most of his house down, almost killed that creepy kid. Himself. And even that dirty goat. He doesn’t deserve that land. He never earned it.

All these idiots would just sit there in their new houses, the same people that they were when there was no council money and casino money, and do nothing with all that land, with all this valuable border land. They don’t know what they’ve got. They don’t know what they’ve been given. They just know how to lose it.

Suckers.

They see a badge and a uniform, that most of them didn’t even bother to vote to give me and they believe anything that I tell them, or they’re too scared of the uniform to say no. Either way.

Suckers.

Somebody’s going to take their money. Somebody’s going to take their land. Might as well be me as anybody else. Suckers are born to be suckered. Prey is born to be eaten. It’s not the wolf’s fault that the pigs didn’t know how to build a house.

I watched my old man drink and piss away everything he ever got. Blamed it all on the white man. Blamed it all on the system. Blamed it all on my mother. Never once looked in the mirror and saw that he was the sucker and it wasn’t anyone’s fault that he didn’t have the backbone or the brains to make something out of himself. It wasn’t the Residential Schools or the Church or the Government’s fault that he stood there and took it and did nothing but feel sorry for himself.

Wasn’t anybody’s fault that he was a waste of space. That was on him. He was the sucker. And my mother was the sucker for staying and taking all his shit.

Not me. 

Not me.

No, I joined the army just to get off this shitty reserve, off this shitty island. Came back and made something out of myself. Got myself a degree and when they wanted to put me on the council, I took it. When they wanted to put the badge on me I took that too. I’ll take more than that the first chance I get. I keep the peace. I can’t stop every single asshole from being an asshole, but I do what I can.

Another two for the jar.

Three.

Four.

Keep the laws that matter and bend other ones any way that I can bend them. Law of the jungle.

Stupid people shouldn’t be alive anyway. They’re out there having babies by the bushel with no money that they earned, and no brains and their kids end up as stupid as them, like cows that don’t even know that they’re being fattened up for slaughter.

Fuck them.

One more for the jar.

Fuck them twice.

Two for the jar.

They talk about fairness and how the world was a paradise before the white man showed up, but half us were killing the other half, and half of us are still killing the other half. Booze and drugs and shooting each other when they’re drunk or wasted. Running each other down on the road or the river. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen the wrecks. I’ve seen the bodies. The suicides. Some people are just too stupid to be alive, or too weak to be alive, and back in the old days if that was you, you were the one that ended up dead. Now you get to to do stupid things to hurt other people. Kill other people.

We had wars. Our ancestors killed other people’s ancestors. Ate some of them. Parts of them. That’s what our own stories say. When the priests came here we did the same thing to them. They chose the wrong side so we killed them and we tortured them and cut their skin off and ate their hearts. Cut off Brebeuf’s lips and stuck a burning stick down his throat.

Paradise my ass.

Wasn’t one then and it sure as hell isn’t one now. Maybe a paradise for the winners. Maybe a paradise for the hunters and the killers. Paradise is what you make. Paradise is what you can take. Paradise is for the ones strong enough and smart enough not to be the prey.

Cain killed Abel because Abel was too stupid and too weak to be alive.

Survival of the fittest. Sucker born every minute.

Fuck them.

One for the jar.

If we had a kid he’d be one rich motherfucker.

Fuck.

Two.

Better off than this poor kid. His father would sign anything you put in front of him once you get him drunk. Sooner or later he’s just going to kill himself and that kid. Too stupid to be alive. Dumb motherfucker.

Fuck.

Two more.

Just another mean drunk. Just another sucker. And that kid. That kid gives me the creeps. Hardly ever talks. Stands there staring off into space like he’s in some kind of trance. Talking to that kid’s like talking to that stupid goat of his. Just stares at you and stares like he sees you but like he sees past you too. You just can’t tell what the hell is going on inside that kid’s head. Gives me the creeps.

Hell is not a swear word.

Not anymore. 

I’ve seen hell. I know what it looks like. 

Definitely not a swear word.

Kid gives me the creeps. Damn goat gives me the creeps too.

Damn’s not a swear work either. They say it on TV all the time. They say all kinds of shit on TV nowadays.

Fuck.

Two more.

Best thing that ever happened to that kid if I took him in, put him in the system. Living in that burned out house all alone. Not my fault his father’s an asshole. That prick sober and locked up is meaner than any rattlesnake and more disagreeable too. But maybe the boy could give me some leverage. Maybe that kid could be useful for something at least.

Prick.

That’s a swear word.

Yeah. 

It’s a swear word.

Fuck.

That jar’s going to be full. Our kid would be a billionaire, if we could have one.

Going to have to buy another jar. Put it beside all the other ones.

Kid really gives me the creeps. Probably retarded or something. Be better off in the system.

Car in the driveway. There’s a fucking car in their driveway.

Probably that girl. Pretty one. Seen her here before. Heard she’s trying to take care of the kid. Not sure why. What her angle is. Don’t think she’s a social worker or a teacher. Kind of looks like she could be part Indian or maybe Oriental. Hard to tell sometimes. Could be related to the kid somehow. Except she doesn’t look like she’s from this place. Not sure what her angle is and I don’t like people who are up to things I can’t figure out. 

Going to have to dig into that. Find out who the hell she is and if she’s going to be a problem.

What the hell is she doing?

She’s just standing in the driveway. Staring at something. Behind the house. Maybe the field. She’s just standing there. Bag of groceries spilled out all over the driveway. Can’t see what she’s looking at.  Must be something that matters. She should have heard my car. She hasn’t looked back even once, and she’s not taking notice of all that mess in the driveway.

What the hell is she doing?

I don’t like complications. I fucking hate complications.

One more for the jar.

Two more. Losing count.

I can’t see the boy. I can’t see anything behind that burned up house. Maybe something happened to the kid. Out here all alone, something bad was bound to happen. Not sure how that breaks down for me. Might be hard to reason with that prick after something like that. Or if maybe something like this’d leave him open to be manipulated.

I don’t like complications.

Just stop the car. Sit here for a moment. Try to figure out the situation before I go jumping in.

Fuck. She’s looking back at me now. She sees me.

The look on her face. What is that look on her face? Fear? Relief?

Guess I’m going to have to find out.

If I wasn’t married I’d fuck the hell out of her.

Shit.

Going to need a whole new swear jar.

Okay.

Hate complications. I really fucking hate complications.

Don’t like not knowing what I’m walking into. Only one way to find out, I guess. One way to find out who the sucker’s going to be.

This way to the Egress, folks. This way to the fucking Egress.

Going to need a whole new jar. 

Going to need some way bigger fucking jars. 

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