#watsons truck school

[deelaundry]

AO3 Wrapped [writer’s ^and vidder's edition]

1. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

This was another year of needing the push of fests to finish and post works. @calaisreno's May prompts 2024 helped a lot, although I didn't go as far with updating The Private Personal Blog of Dr. John H. Watson as I wanted to. I posted seven (very short) chapters for the first eleven prompts. The remaining twenty prompts have been plotted, just not written :( and will take the story to the end of S3, where we wave goodbye entirely to canon. FYI- my notes for that section say:

That’s the end of canon. NO ABOMINABLE BRIDE NO MORIARTY RETURN NO DRUGS RELAPSE NO EURUS - Redbeard was a dog - Victor was a uni friend

Second biggest surprise was how much I absolutely fell in love with Sherlock & Co. I didn't think I'd have another show grab me the way this has. Not had a ton of fannish output yet, but it's likely coming.

2. How many WIP's do you have in your docs for next year?

A gajillion in docs. I keep thinking, "Can put this away; I'll never go back to it," and then immediately having my brain go back to it. Slightly fewer in the vid idea queue, but that's not zero.

3. Your favorite character to write/vid this year?

Great big cuddly squishes for the two John Watsons I wrote, BBC John and Jonk (podcast John). Same person at core, completely different in personality.

Vid: I liked vidding Yasper for Dance the Night, but vidding Ken to a "Xavier" song was also just *chef's kiss: Imma Live Forever

4. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Not posted yet, but I've written some Mariana from podcast. I adore her and feel I can write her inner self... but am very frustrated that I know nothing about growing up in Spain. Don't know what her relationship with her family is like, what her inside jokes are with Spanish friends about British people/UK, etc. I have some handle (from an outside perspective) on what it might be like to be Hispanic in the US but nothing on being Spanish in London.

5. What's one pairing you want to explore next year?

Sorry not sorry, more than one:

More of BBC poly QPR Sherlock/John and others around them

Podcast Sherlock/John/Mariana

BBC John Watson and James Wilson as exes from secondary school when James was on an exchange program in England

A different deep platonic relationship for BBC Sherlock and "John"

Sherlock Holmes & James Wilson friendship (where James calls Sherlock "Shushy")

BBC Molly Hooper/John Watson taking place after John's gone to prison for assaulting Sherlock in S4. You might not be surprised to learn that their relationship is actually all about Sherlock.

There's also a BBC kinky WIP that ends with Greg Lestrade/Mary Morstan, although it won't really explore that relationship per se.

6. Did you receive any gifts this year?

Yep and they were all great!

King of Anything [Fanvid] for Overboard (1987) by periru3

A triptych of related fics by Vulgarweed: Follow the Lights in Sherlock BBC, Pusherman in Watson and Holmes comic, and Champagne Supernova in Sherlock & Co podcast.

The Final Adventure of a Problematic, Lying Detective (Aka Oklahomo IV) which is an hilarious fic based on a Norwegian parody of Sherlock BBC.

7. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

Nope.

8. What do you listen to while writing?

Nothing while writing. While vidding it's the vid's song over and over and over again.

9. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

In vidding, it's the fun match of the music with Ken sliding slowly down the hood of his truck, and the Mt Rushmore horses being the "fake-ass hoes."

In writing, it's from a blurb that I may or may not ever finish: The sex was glorious, a feedback loop of sensation rather than a race to an outcome, and at one point the woman gasped, "God, Watson, you fuck like a dyke." 

Oh, wait, I wrote that in 2023. What is time?

--

Thank you @meetinginsamarra for your AO3 Wrapped that inspired this!

[eviexwatson]

[ciswoman and she/her/hers] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [EVELYN “EVIE” WATSON]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [MAYA HAWKE]. You must be the [TWENTY-SEVEN] year old [ATTENDANT at SWEET NOTHINGS BAKERY]. Word is you’re [EASY-GOING] but can also be a bit [SELF-DESTRUCTIVE] and your favorite song is [POISON by ALICE COOPER]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [FISHER’S COVE]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

𐌕𐋅𐌄 𐌁𐌀𐌔𐌉𐌂𐌔

Name: Evelyn Renae Watson Nickname: Evie Birthday: August 5th Zodiac: Leo Age: 26 Face Claim: Maya Hawke Occupation: Attendant Gender: Ciswoman Pronouns: She/Her Sexual Orientation: Bisexual  Romantic Orientation: Biromantic

𐌃𐌄𐌄𐌐𐌄𐌓 𐌃𐌉ᕓ𐌄

Myers-Briggs: ISTP-T Positive Traits: Adaptable, Alert, Creative, Easy-Going, independent, Uninhibited, Private, Observant, Witty  Negative Traits: Abrasive, Addictive, Insecure, Rebellious, Hot-Headed, Self-Destructive, Temperamental, Withdrawn Hobbies: Graffiti art, Smoking, Poetry, Make-up, Nail art, Skateboarding, Rock Collecting, Thrifting

𐌉𐌌𐌐Ꝋ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌍𐌕 𐌔𐌕𐌵𐌅𐌅

TW: Parental death, car accident, mention of abuse, drug/substance abuse, overdose allusion

There are a great many things that Evie would much rather do than discuss her childhood or her parents. Like walking over heated, rusted nails, swimming in shark-infested waters with a heavily bleeding wound, or touching the hot eye of a stove without submerging her hand in water beforehand. All of these would be considerably less painful than drudging through old memories she tries her best to repress to this day.

Where do I even begin? I suppose the beginning would be best. Evelyn Renae Watson was born in mid-July, her parents were Everett and Mary-Ann Watson. Her mother was a waitress at a local diner. Her father was a well-respected officer of the ABPD, who performed his duties well and was known to be a stickler to the rules. And for the most part, when at home, he was decent enough. Sure, there may have been times when he got a little loud and would yell, especially if he had been drinking.

It wasn’t until Evie was around six that it changed. Her and her mother had gone to visit some relatives, and Evie ended up chasing after a ball one of her cousins threw at her, running out into the road, right in the way of a speeding truck, the driver neither slowing down nor paying attention. Mary-Ann rushed out to push Evie out of the way. And while Evie made it out mostly unscathed, save for a few scrapes from being shoved onto the concrete, her mother was fatally wounded. It was quite the story for a few weeks. A mother giving her life to save her child in a heroic display. Most of the family and family friends knew it was just a freak accident and never once blamed Evie for it. One person did: her father, vehemently so.

His drinking had become more frequent, and when he drank, he liked to remind her that if it weren’t for her, her mother would still be there, how it should have been her instead and many other horrible things that should have never been said to a child or to another person. Unfortunately, it didn’t stay verbal for long… As you could imagine, this had quite a negative effect on Evie. In her self-esteem as she got older. In her ability to make genuine connections with her peers. Even her grades began to suffer once she realized that doing well in school wasn’t going to help.

At some point, though she doesn’t exactly remember specifically when, as her childhood is just a blur at this point, she found an old luggage case full of old stuff tucked away in the attic. She was bored, her father wasn’t home, and TV wasn’t allowed in the house. Inside the case, she found a bunch of… Mostly stupid stuff. A bunch of old band tees with the pictures faded or crackled. What stood out the most to her was a Walkman, as well as a couple of mix tapes filled with her favorite classical rock songs, the words ‘Mary’s tunes’ and ‘Mary’s tunes #2’ written in faded ink. These were her mother’s. It still worked after putting in some batteries she found, and she never parted with it since.

While it was difficult for her to make friends and get close to people, it wasn’t impossible. She had a few shallow friendships, and only a few she would consider close friends.  It was safe to say that a few of her friends' parents didn’t approve of her. She was, after all, the angry, troubled child who never applied herself (unless it was something that she found to be interesting), got in trouble smoking cigarettes in the girls’ bathroom, skipped class, and occasionally got into fights.

Despite this, Evie found her people. Together, the group got into all sorts of mischief. Sneaking out, drinking, smoking. 

However, that wasn’t enough to help her cope with the pain of her trauma. So, the first time she was offered weed, she took it and never looked back. It helped tremendously, until eventually, it didn’t as well.

Evie slowly began to dabble into harder drugs. Up until she was eighteen, that was her norm. Carefully navigating her father’s temper, and sneaking out to hang out with her friends, Evie secretly got a job so that she could move out as soon as possible. After graduation, and once she was eighteen, she worked up the nerve to finally move out. She just.. Kinda left one day when he was at work.

After that, things seemed to get better, though there were several times when she spiraled. Evie got into trouble with the law often, either late at night when she would get caught tagging a place and would lose all of her spray paint, or whenever she’d be caught with drug paraphernalia.

There were times Evie found herself wanting to get clean, but doing so on your own without any support was more than impossible. She’d be clean for a few weeks to even months before a relapse until she eventually relapsed. Her last relapse led her straight into a hospital, which saved her life, then rehab.

She’s back in Aurora Bay with her twelve-month recovery token always tucked away in her pocket to remind herself of how far she’s come.

@aurorabayaesthetic

[theangelofthedesert]

Can't Think Straight ~Pt. 1~

I always thought of myself as a normal person. Just a regular 17-year-old girl going to school and trying not to fuck up her life. A girl with a few-but good friends, good grades, excellent parents, and an awesome boyfriend. Like I said, I always thought I was normal, just like anyone else. But…There’s this thing, this…feeling, like there’s something wrong. Most of the time I choose to ignore it, as long as I can move on with my day as usual.

Everything was going according to my schedule: Wake up. Take a shower. Have breakfast with my family. Go to school. Do homework with my friends and finally, hang out with my boyfriend. Until the point where I saw a moving truck parked in the garage of the house next to mine, which normally isn’t something weird but…

“Oh, new neighbors!” said  my boyfriend, Matt. “We should go say hi, Annie.” The thing about this town is that it’s so small, every time someone new moves in everyone finds out and tries to investigate every little detail about them, which leads to gossip around the town. Only a few families that have lived here for generations are the ones that still stay in Murkwell Valley for the rest of their life. That was the case of my family. The Watsons have lived in this town for 10 generations and the current Watsons have no intentions of leaving. My parents: Robert and Galena Watson, had dated since high school and, according to them, always thought of getting married once Dad finished college. By the time they were my age, they had already planned their whole future together; and they always make it a point to remind me that I should do the same.

Me? I don’t even know what to study in college, how the heck am I supposed to think about getting married right now? I don’t know if Matt is planning for us to have a future together either. Dad always talks about the way Mom looked the first time he saw her: long dark-brown hair, hazel eyes, and a beautiful smile. He says he just knew he had to marry her. Mom remembers Dad as a tall, black haired bad-boy with gray eyes and that it was love at first sight. Dad says I look just like Mom, but with some of his facial features. My sister, on the other hand, looks exactly like Dad, and my brother looks like Mom. I’m more like a combination of the two of them. That being said, Matt and I have only dated for like 3 months and my parents act like he is the one who will carry me to the altar.

“Ok, let’s go just to say hi, then we can go home.” I said, a little tired. I just wanted to go to sleep after the hard day I had at school with all the preparations for the school’s Pride Dance for the anniversary of its founder, and college counseling to help with choosing the right major; but Matt was too nice to just ignore the new people next door. We started walking towards the truck, when we saw a fluffy dog running in our direction trying to get away from its owner. 

I kneeled and grabbed the runaway dog. As I was trying to look for its tag among all the fur, a girl’s voice caught my attention.

“Hey! That’s my dog!” When I turned to look at her, I went into shock. The girl looked my age but had bobbed, curly, colorful hair, with the right side shaved off. She also had a little piercing on her nose, sky-blue eyes and pale skin. The word that came to my mind was “beautiful”. I had never seen a person that looked like that in this town, since everyone is VERY catholic, we're usually not allowed to dye our hair or pierce our skin. She looked so cool. “Sorry, I was returning from a walk to calm his energy, but it seems he needed a longer walk”

“Oh, don’t worry, I was just catching him for you” I said as I laughed awkwardly and scratched my head. “That’s a beautiful dog,” I added. For someone who is leader of the welcome committee at school, I suck at social interactions with new people, but since I pretty much already know everyone here, I don’t have the necessity of introducing myself that often.

She smiled at me and then looked at the dog. “Yeah, he is pretty cute. It’s a Finnish Spitz, aka a domestic fox,” She laughed “The downside to the breed is its energy.” Once the dog was secured with its leash, she got up and waved at us. “Hi! You must be our neighbors” The girl extended her hand at me. “I’m Minerva, but my friends call me Mina!” She smiled as I grabbed her hand. “And you are…?” She’s so formal.

“Oh! My name is Annabelle, but I go by Annie” Her eyes looked so deep, yet so soft as they gazed back at me. A strange thought came to my mind, but quickly disappeared when Matt shook her hand.

“I’m Matt, Annie’s boyfriend.” Her smile dropped for a second, but came back again as she looked at me. What was that about? “Welcome to Murkwell Valley, Mina.” 

“Thanks for the welcome. It’s nice to know the neighbors are friendly” She kept her eyes on me with a big smile. “And thank you, for catching my dog, I owe you one.”

“Oh, I was just worried that it would run onto the street and get hit or something, you don’t owe me anything” I said, while playing nervously with the edge of my sweater sleeves. She then continued to insist, saying her conscience wouldn’t allow the savior of her ‘precious baby’ go unrewarded. “Ok then, you can pay me back by coming for dinner at my house.” I suggested, but quickly added “-you can bring your family, of course. That way our parents can meet and talk before the other neighbors organize a welcome party and make things awkward by asking a bunch of questions” Her face lit up and nodded. “Great! Dinner at eight, hope you can make it.”

“I’ll tell my parents right away. See you later, Annie.” For some reason, the way she said my name left me feeling weird, as I saw her jump back to her house being followed by her dog. Well, that interaction didn’t go as badly as I imagined. Maybe there’s hope for my awkwardness after all. I’m actually glad we ran into each other, and I hope to get to know more about her…

“What a sweet girl, I hope you can make friends with her!” Matt brought me back from whatever I was thinking, into reality. I shook my head to clear my mind and looked at him. “What happened? You spaced out for a second there.”

“Sorry, I must be mentally beat after today. Volunteering to help Ms. Matisse grade papers was seriously a terrible idea” Matt giggled as he took my hand and walked me back to my house. “You can come to dinner too if you want, babe.” I said hopefully.

“Ehm… I think I’ll pass. The boys invited me to a pre-game party to prepare for this year’s Battle of Murkwell Valley High. Lots of schools from different towns are coming to challenge the current winning team. Us. I even heard a school from the big city is coming.” The big city was actually the state’s capital, Kingsham, but we in the town call it that because there’s only small towns around it and no other city. Matt left a kiss on my forehead and smiled, “Besides, you can start getting to know your new neighbor. You have been a little sad since Holly went to see her mom for the holidays.” I appreciated Matt’s attempt of making me feel better, but I had forgotten Holly left since I had too many things to do, and meeting Mina just now had also cleared my mind of any thoughts. Matt wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. As our lips touched, all the weird thoughts in my mind cleared out, except for one, preventing me from totally enjoying my boyfriend’s embrace.

“Ok, I’ll try to be her friend.” I said with a big sigh because I knew he wouldn’t let the situation go until I caved in. “I love you, babe.” He let out a nervous laugh, probably because he still wasn’t ready to say it back, even when he said it was fine that I said it first.

“I… should go. Gotta help mom with some things before I go to the meeting” I thought it was a party? Whatever, I’m not gonna say anything. He let go of his embrace and quickly grabbed his thing and left. I stood outside the door until I saw Matt leave the street of my house, then I went back in, just to find my parents in the living room watching a movie. I went past them, leaving a kiss on their cheeks and walking towards the kitchen, where my food was in the fridge, waiting for me to reheat it since I got out of school late.

Once I was done washing my plate, I stayed in the living room, chatting with my parents about school and other stuff for a few hours. They asked if Matt had already invited me to the dance, to which I said yes, knowing full well that he didn’t want to come in the first place because he thought it was boring and a waste of time, even though he was aware I was one of the people organizing the damn thing. Nevertheless, I felt that if I said anything he wouldn’t pay attention, like he does when I try to tell him how I feel. 

Later in the day I went upstairs to get ready for dinner. I told my mom as I was going up that I invited the new neighbors over to get to know them, she didn’t seem to mind and started to cook dinner for more people. Gotta love her ability to adapt to a change of plans. On my way to my room, I said ‘Hi’ to my brother, who had his door open and just waved at me; and to my sister, who only responded by closing her door. 

When I was in my room, I quickly took a shower and started to look in my closet for possible options to wear tonight. I narrowed it down to two dresses. One was pink with white flowers on it, the other one was red with black details at the bottom. I decided the pink one was too girly, so I grabbed the red dress and got changed.

As I was putting on a red bra, I noticed the window in the house next to mine had the lights turned on. When I took a closer look, I realized it was Minerva’s room, since I could see the jacket she was wearing today hanging by the door. My face suddenly turned red at the thought of that girl watching me change. I dressed as fast as I could, then I went to see if she was in her room, but Mina wasn’t there.

Since I was already dressed for dinner, I just sat down next to the window while I analyzed the things I saw in her room. There was a shelf with a lot of books, some boxes with the labels “make up” and “winter clothes”, her bed with blue sheets and her laptop on top of it. Multiple band posters were already up on the walls and some weird plushies adorned her desk. She clearly had a busy morning setting up her room. I also saw her dog’s bed in the corner with the word “Zero” stitched to the front, but as I was looking at it, the door opened. Her dog walked in like it owned the place, then Mina walked in wearing just a towel around her body and another on her hair. My face lit up red again, making me throw myself to the ground so she couldn’t see me. 

Once the awkwardness went away, I decided to take a quick look, just to see if she’d noticed me on the window. I slowly raised my head, hoping she didn’t notice how creepy I was being, just to find her looking at dresses like I was doing moments ago. That’s when I realized she was just as nervous as me to have dinner tonight, even if it was with our whole family. I figured making friends was probably difficult for her. Mina looked just as nice as she was this afternoon, the only thing different was the fact that she was still wearing only a towel. Just as that thought crossed my mind, she turned her head around towards the window, forcing me to close the drapes in panic. I don’t know if she saw me or not, but I wouldn’t blame her if she changed her mind about coming to dinner…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is gonna be a long story that I hope I can continue to update and not leave unfinished like all of my other works lmao With the help of a dear friend serving as my editor, I'll make sure to write a few chapters in advance to keep posting regularly <3

[nysocboy]

The Foot Fist Way: Danny McBride's usual character without the hints of humanity

The Foot Fist Way (2006) is the first collaboration between Danny McBride and Jody Hill that would extend through Eastbound & Down, Vice Principals, and The Righteous Gemstones.  

The version on MAX is grainy, like a home movie, with amaterish direction (give the guy a break -- he was just learning), but that adds to its charm -- if you can call a movie involving constant cussing and beating up kids charming.  We can see the beginning of the character that Danny McBride plays regularly -- foul-mouthed, bragging, bullying, grandiose -- but without the touches of humanity that make Neal Gamby and Jesse Gemstone likeable. But it is fascinating to see the origin of the character, as well as a lot of jokes and situations that were recycled on The Righteous Gemstones.

It is based upon Hill's experiences as a taekwando instructor ("foot fist way" is a literal translation of Tae Kwan Do), and there are a lot of set pieces depicting the funny things that happen in classes and competitions. The story commences about halfway through the movie: taewando instructor Fred  and his very intense high school buddy Mike (Jody Hill) take two of the students, teenage Henry and ten-year old Julio (Carlos Lopez IV, Spencer Moreno) on a road trip: "you guys are gonna see things that you've never seen before...I'm going to do a lot of bad things, and you guys aren't going to stop me.  You ever hae sex?"  

They actually go to a martial arts expo to meet Fred's idol, Chuck "The Truck" Watson (Ben Best), who invites them to a sex-and-drugs party similar to Jesse's in Season 1 of The Rightous Gemstones, except that the guests insult them ("fag," "pussy," "ugly fucking jerk"), and only the little boy gets any action. (Don't get upset -- everyone just comments on how handsome he is, and fondles his head.)

Fred invites Chuck Watson to visit, and spend the night. To his surprise, Chuck has sex with his wife.  Granted, she has been characterized in every scene as into doing it with every guy she sees, but Fred is still incensed, and insists on a fight.  Chuck pulverizes him.

But the ending is positive: both of the kids win awards in the big taekwando competititon, and Fred introduces a new student oath: all about using taekwando honorably and making the world a better place

Sadly, Carlos Lopez IV, who became a stuntman, died in 2014.  He fell off a hotel balcony in Lisbon.  Some media reports suggested that he was trying out a new stunt, but it was most likely an accidental death.

Ben Best died in 2021, a day before his 47th birthday.   Kind of a depressing way to end a movie review.  At least Spencer Moreno may have grown up to be the buffed boxer in the top photo.

Beefcake: Ben Best takes his shirt off.

Gay Characters: None.

Gay Subtext: Maybe between Fred and Henry, who becomes his protege. 

Homophobia: Some "fags" and "cocksuckers," but not a lot.

My Grade: If you're a Danny McBride fan, B.  If not, D.

[haha-nothanksplease]

Storytime:

So the dream started with me going through a bag of Halloween candy and I find these tiny little wrapped candies that are just a singular wrapped m&m and I wonder who TF would buy only one m&m when my mom walks in to tell me to get in the truck so she can drive me to school. We drive to school, and we have to drive though a swamp for some reason to get there, and when we get there we're two hours late. The entire school is empty of student except for like one friend for some reason. I go to my first period in this tiny ass hallway. The class takes place in the hallway, there isn't a room for it, and it's a candle making class run by this witch doctor person who has a musical number. That's my only class of the day and I get picked up by my mom. We decide to take a little detour. We end up at this weird ship place with a bunch of farm animals and a giant fake centipede. It was a ship but it wasn't anywhere near the water, idk. We get a kind of tour of the place and come across Sherlock and Watson. Apparently they went through a villain arc and are the bad guys, even though I don't see them do anything bad, and I guess Sherlock makes Watson wear a metal belt thing around his waist under his suit. Also Sherlock and Watson are enemies with the Adams family. The Adams' aren't in the dream, I just had this weird instinct that Gomez really hates them.

Also I don't go to middle school anymore wtf.

[theunheardstories87]

Prem Watsa – The Wealthy Journey of Richest Indian in Canada

Chairman and CEO of Fairfax Financial Holdings Limited. Meet Prem Watsa, an antagonist and now the Richest Indian in Canada. Prem Watsa is an Indian Canadian billionaire who is also known as Canadian Warren Buffet. He is a living example of achieving heights with hard work and dedication. Moreover, he was awarded Padma Shri in January 2020 for his contribution to trade and industry.              

He works in silence for 15 years staying away from media and the public eye until he became successful and completed his dream. Prem Watsa has a net worth of USD 1.2 Billion, valued at 9,857 crore in India.

Early Life

About his Family: Prem Watsa was born in 1950 in a poor Christian family and is the third child of four children(one brother and two sisters). His father was an English and math teacher. His father strongly influences Prem Watsa. He always remembers his father’s advice,’ work hard as hard as you can, as though everything depends on you. Pray as hard as possible, as though everything depends on God.” This advice pushed Prem Watsa through his difficult days and made him the Richest Indian in Canada. Prem Watsa and his family have great Christian values like honesty, integrity etc.

Education: Wata completed his schooling at Hyderabad Public School and then went to the Indian Institution Of Technology, Madras for his further studies, where he completed his graduation with a degree in chemical engineering. Later he decide to move to London, Ontario for qualification. He joined the Richard Ivey School of Business at the University of Western Ontario and got an MBA qualification.

Real Struggle Begins

When Watsa reached London he had only 64 rupees which was valued at 8US dollars at that time. He stayed with his brother and sister-in-law in Canada. He finishes his qualification along with working for a company selling conditioners and furnaces door to door. His struggle was real because he had to work hard to beat the natives so that he could reach the heights he wanted to achieve. In Canada, it was very difficult for immigrants to get the job opportunity before the native citizens.

 Either of all the situations he faces he doesn’t look back, he just continues his work and keeps putting in his efforts until he gets the job and he has to suffer more. Till his master’s degree, he continues to work as a door-to-door salesman. He put great efforts into work, for financial support for MBA qualification. After completing of master’s he starts applying for jobs and after this step by step a businessman came into shape  

Hard Work Pays Off- Success

After spending a year in Canada he became good at making sales. He decided to quit the job and wanted another job. His job application faced huge competition from the native Finally he got selected and called for his second interview at the Confederation Life Insurance Company in Toronto for the place of investment analyst. He got the job. His manager John Watson became his tutor and educated him about Benjamin Graham’s theories of value investing. He work for nine years with a consideration life insurance company.

Later he got the thought of his own company. So he took a small step by starting an asset management firm with John Watson and the company name Hamblin Watsa Investment Council Ltd after a year of asset management firm he took over a small Canadian trucking Insurance Company and relabeled it as Fairfax Financial Holdings Limited. At the time of taking over the company, the company was on a bankruptcy period and after being taken of the company by Watsa its annual revenue went to $8 billion a year in 2012. Prem Watsa has been the Chairman and CEO of the company since 1985 to until now.

[griffin-black]

‘My Ordinary Life’ (Chap. VI Part One)

Author’s Note: I recommend reading this on Ao3 or Quotev.

Chapter Six Part One

In The Afternoon

VI

'. . . When it's time to enter another phase. But you looked sad in a reassuring way, and I don't want to leave.'

Everyday she walked home from school. The bell rang, students filed out, and she began the thirty minute walk to 6224 Wellwood Circle. Headphones placed over her hood, she bit the inside of her sleeve as she shuffled through music on her MP3 player.

A group of students caught up to her from behind and laughed loudly. It was the same group that always trailed behind her, walking the same path as her for a few minutes, before turning right on Jefferson.         

A truck drove past, and a boy sitting in the backseat met her eyes. She looked at him and smiled ever so slightly.         

Her name was Sylvia. Sylvia Lola Frazier. She was sixteen. with fiery long hair, essentially orange, and deep brown eyes. She was the quiet Lo at school, Sylvia at home standing at five foot four, Miss Frazier to the neighbors, and Haunted according to her best friend Cassie Overbeck, the spunky girl with an obsession for the macabre, mystical, and undead. “You have the energy of them.” She had whispered to her during history. “Someone being loomed over by death.” Specks of rain landed gently onto her grey jacket and music flooded her ears. Calculus homework was due the next day, as well as an English paper. A personal narrative. She really didn’t like writing those.         

The sidewalk became a grey gradient as she trudged closer to home and black spots of chewed gum grew more frequent with every dividing crack of the cement.         

Lo had a babysitting job in an hour. The Watson’s just across the asphalt had a little girl, Josephine, who had grown quite fond of Lo after meeting her a few weeks prior. Josephine was bright and joyous, taking great pleasure in little things like most children. Always donning a light blue garment of some sort or extravagant princess dresses, the girl was an absolute angel, and Lo had no complaints looking over such a child. She always complimented her hair, calling her ‘Ariel’ while dragging her outside to play mermaids out by the pool even in winter, and was fond of combing through it, watching it luster and shine. Bonding with the girl was a treat. It made Lo a bit more attached to her then she thought she would be. After all, she was just the neighbor’s kid.         

But now, Josephine Watson had become something much more to her. Something like a sister. The sister she was supposed to, but never had. The door to 6224 Wellwood was a dusty purple, surrounded by grey walls. Unconsciously, Lo checked the wooded park next to her and the neighboring homes to her right. Something like a habit had formed in the past months, but it wasn’t a habit in need of being broken.         

Three months ago it started. A man was standing behind a tree near the park, completely black from the shade of the pine nettles. Lo thought nothing of it at first. Just someone from the neighborhood enjoying the park.         

Until it happened again.         

The next day the man was there, behind the same exact tree merely yards away from her home. Though shaken, Lo managed to contain her extravagant and free-spirited emotions. Plenty of people go on walks to the park. Maybe it’s someone else.         

Then the next day. Maybe he just likes going on daily walks. He just likes that spot. He’s not looking at you.

But the fourth time, Lo struggled to unlock her front door. Keys jangling, metal hitting metal, she fought against her shaking hands as she attempted miserably to insert the key into the lock. He was definitely looking. Lo tried to act normally. She was just heading home. She hadn’t noticed anything. Not anything at all.         

Finally, the key slipped into the lock and she exhaled, turning it quickly. The purple door swung open. Lo got as far as one foot inside the threshold, before noticing a slip of paper on the ground. She picked it up. I’ve been noticing a man hanging round by your house the past few days. He just lurks and watches you walk home, then leaves once you get inside. But last night I saw him when I was about to turn in. Around midnight. He was tugging at your door. Just thought you should know. Ethel Greene A hand clasped over her mouth. Ethel Greene was her next door neighbor. A sweet elderly woman with a tendency to stay up late writing short stories, a passion of hers. Of course she would’ve noticed something like this.         

Lola crumpled the paper in her hands and immediately slammed the door shut behind her, pressing her back against it, heart thumping so fast it hurt. A cough escaped her lips, accompanied by a rapid fire fit of wheezing as her eyes scanned the living room. Paranoia was a nasty fiend, and soon, Lola found herself checking every inch of her house, flipping over mattresses, checking broom closets, the garage, and locking all the doors.         

The next few days she spent in mania. Paralyzed by fear of the mysterious man sneaking around her house. Even though her parents had called the police, nothing came out of it. Nothing was found. And life moved on. But ever since, she always checked the park and the surrounding block. If that man reappeared, she was certain to catch him.         

Unlocking the door, Lola stepped inside to a clatter in the kitchen.         

“Oh, I find it just wonderful that Casey’s taken up tech! With those new smartphones and ‘i’ things coming out, I think he’d make it just fine. It’d be a wonderful opportunity, dear. Oh! Hi, Sylvia! The Ramsay’s are over!” Her mother bent backwards to peek through the doorframe of the kitchen, her poofy blonde hair falling back elegantly, and waved in a girlish manner to her daughter. She was wearing her favorite white and pink frilly apron and holding a tray of what smelled like cookies. The scent enticing Lola to the kitchen.         

Casey Leonard Ramsay, or as Lola called him ‘Leon,’ was sitting at the kitchen table next to his mother, looking positively miserable. Leon was her friend from school and she had known him since they were both children. She hadn’t seen him in a few months ever since his family went on a four month long vacation to Florida. The Ramsay’s liked to disappear. Routinely, Leon was plucked out of school for months on end to feed into his parents' apparent undying need to travel.         

A smile etched across Lo’s face as she looked at him, pulled off her headphones and turned off her player. He smiled back.         

“Hey.” He said softly.         

“Hey.” She said back at barely above a whisper. Her sleeve landed over her mouth, a shy habit of hers. Mrs. Ramsay and Lo’s Mother made knowing eye contact before making a grand scene of shoveling the pair out of the kitchen.        

 “Grown up things to talk about. Grown ups only.” Lo’s Mother chirped.        

 “Mhm! Only big people allowed here!” Mrs. Ramsay agreed. The kitchen door shut and the two mother’s excited banter sounded from the other side. Both of their Mothers liked to tease them, talking to them like they were still toddlers. Lo and Leon looked at each other and burst out laughing. Their Mothers were both nuts. Loving, fun, but just straight up crazy!         

“I was awkward turtling the whole time. I thought you were never gonna come home!” Leon laughed.         

“Awkward turtling?” She repeated, looking at him like he’d spoken another language.         

He shook his head. “Seriously. Are you ever on Facebook?” Lo didn’t have to answer, Leon knew she wasn’t tech-savvy in the slightest. With a sigh, he placed one hand on top of the other and stuck out both thumbs, rotating them in circles. Lola still didn’t really understand but she smiled politely.         

Both were silent for a moment, but that was why they got along in the first place. They were the two quiet kids in their class. Rarely ever did their voices raise above a soft murmur, but they were comfortable in each other’s silence. Lo was about to suggest heading up to her room to surf the web or draw some pictures with her art supplies, when she remembered.         

“I’ve got to babysit a girl next door. You want me to ask Mr. Watson if you can come too?” She suggested.         

Leon raised a hand. “No. My Mom and I only popped in to say hello. We’ve gotta get back.” Lola was a little disappointed.         

“Oh.” She sighed. “You going to be at school tomorrow then?”        

 Leon nodded.         

“Okay.” She smiled airily. “I’ll see you then . . . then.” Lola slipped her backpack off her shoulders and headed towards the door, but before opening it she looked over her shoulder and waved goodbye. Leon did the same. Josephine was a delight as always, this time wanting to sculpt cats and ‘doggies’ in rainbow play doh, and before Lola knew it the three hours were up.         

Her Mother, insisting Lo take Rocky, their rottweiler, for a walk before they ate, made a casserole for dinner, cookies for dessert, and nothing of note took place. Her Dad came back home from work, he was the manager of a local car repair shop, and told the tale of a customer he had that day, demanding a free oil change because of “unfriendly service.” Lo pretended to be interested.         

After a quick shower, Lo sat at her desk and opened the window before it, though only slightly. The crisp night air was fresh and welcomed and she stood there for a moment, eyes closed, breathing it all in. She pulled her hair out of the band it was tied in and shook it out, letting the cool breeze evaporate the water, then sat down to get to work.         

Calculus was the easy part. She finished the Problem Set in around twenty minutes. English, on the other hand, was a whole other issue.         

Personal Narrative.         

Yuck.

  ******

  “I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it and you can’t make me. I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I CAN’T DO IT—”

“Quiet down, would you, Toby? . . . It’s not like you even have the choice.” Brian groaned, wiping down a large combat knife with an old cloth.         

“No. No. Please don’t make me, please don’t force me. I can’t do it.” Toby cried, knees tucked into his chest. The boy was sitting in the backseat, practically ripping his hair from its follicles as he rocked back and forth. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot and he whined with every heaving sob. Static was buzzing in his ears to the point where he could barely hear even his own cries . . . and the voices. The voices were shrieking like ghouls in his mind. Primal, ringing, shrieks.         

“Please, please, PLEASE!” His voice crescendoed to a scream. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. His throat was tightening, enclosing in on itself, tightening, tightening along with his chest. His heart suddenly jumped rapidly as he felt himself choke on nothing, nothing at all, and he was being strangled; he was being punched in the chest; he was shaking and he had no control over his limbs; and he was crying; and he was screaming; and he tasted blood; and he had no idea where he was, or who he is, or what he’s doing, or who’s around him or what time it is or what color his shoes were or what year it wasorwhathewasdoingtherewhathewasexpectedtodowhatthatmonsterwantedhimtodowhatthatmonsterwantedhimtodowhatthatmonsterwantedhimtodo—         

“TOBY!” Someone shouted. He looked up. But felt strange. Something had happened. Now it was quiet. No static. No voices. Only breathing. His breathing. Toby’s fist was through the now shattered right window of the backseat. Glass shards sprinkled across the leather seat and the floor mats and sharp edges of the destroyed window jutted out from its frame. Blood. Everywhere. Face blank, Toby blinked as he turned his hand over, examining it. Mouth slightly agape, he watched his bandaged hand open and close. The gauze was now torn and red.         

Brian mumbled something, hands supporting his head as it fell back. Both front doors of the truck were open. Tim left the passenger seat and angrily opened the door to Toby’s seat while the other remained standing by the driver’s side. Toby was dragged out by his collar before being tossed to the dirt.         

“I’m sorry! I’m ss-sorry, I’m-muh sorry.” He cried, still sobbing and shaking like a newborn deer. The asphalt was hard and had a layer of rain that soaked him to the skin, he felt perfectly at home there. “Just leave me. Just leave me.” He was stuck in a loop, constantly repeating his words. Tim inspected the car and groaned. Brian hadn’t even turned to look, seeming like he was trying to suppress his rage by not viewing the damage, but was otherwise unreadable. “Leave me. Please just leave me here, I don’t wanna come a-anymore. I don’t want to d-do-oo this anymore . . . Please.” Toby breathed. “Please.”

 Tim watched the pathetic display, looking injured. Almost like he was on the verge of silent, bitter tears. He had gotten to know the young Proxy over the past week, and even with all his flaws and the atrocious scenario they were both tangled up in, he had grown a much mightier deal of affection for Toby than he ever thought was possible for a Proxy to feel. He was just a kid. Tim could see that now. A disturbed, messed up, beaten and abused kid. How he would react to his first job was a thought that hadn’t crossed Tim’s mind, but now, with the young man a whining mess on the ground, it was inescapably clear this was going to be a much bigger problem than he had originally thought.         

Though that wasn’t to say the situation wasn’t incredibly confusing.         

Tim had assumed right away that the kid was a psychopath. Knowing that he had stabbed his Dad over two hundred times in cold blood, then as if that wasn’t enough, proceeding to set his entire neighborhood and the surrounding forest aflame, how could he not? It wasn’t possible that the Operator would select someone as a Proxy . . . that wasn’t capable of killing outside of a one time crime of passion . . . was it?         

Toby was still crying, mumbling to himself. He assumed his usual fetal position, something Tim had already begun referring to as the Toby Pose, and Tim couldn’t bear to see him in that state.        

 Brian was still wiping off his knife even though it had been properly cleaned and polished long ago. He was the only one that remembered his first kill. Tim didn’t. So he had no idea what Toby was going through currently.         

Moving around the vehicle, Tim leaned against the driver side door, facing Brian and crossing his arms. “What do we do about him? The poor kid’s a mess.”         

“We ignore it.”         

Tim blinked. “Don’t be so cold.”         

“Oh, that’s rich. ‘Don’t be so cold,’ the serial killer says to the other serial killer.” Brian said softly. “What the hell else should we do? He’s a proxy now. The Master’s not going to cut him any slack, so why should we?” Brian sighed. “Being nice is only going to hurt him further. No . . . it’ll kill him. Not to mention the punk broke my window.” Brian set down the knife on the car seat along with the cloth. Tim was not amused.         

“Brian, this is shallow. Even for you.” He said.         

“Oh, yeah?” Brian scoffed, smirking. “Y’know. That’s really, really something. Funny. Almost comical. Aw, so the poor murderer doesn’t want to kill another person? Fine! Let’s just give him a big ol’ hug and a motivational speech, that’ll put the pep back in his step! That’ll make him forget the fact that a force stronger than the universe is out for his blood!         

“No, Tim. The fact that the kid is losing his fucking mind at the prospect of killing someone is a good thing. It means underneath all of his disorders and shitty past he’s still human. Let him feel something, truly experience emotion while he’s still capable. That way, he’ll be forced to learn fast how to lock up every scrap of humanity he has left. However he does it, I could care less. As long as he doesn’t screw us up like this the next time, or get us killed or worse . . . I really . . .” Brian got into the car, slamming the door shut in Tim’s face, refusing to finish his thought.         

Tim didn’t fully believe what Brian was saying. He could tell by his face that he did care, but in typical Proxy nature, he was apathetic and tense since they were about to carry out orders. Even so, Tim could see where he was coming from. If they all wanted to remain alive, Toby would have to get over this quickly. If not . . . Tim shuddered to think about it.         

Brian was probably right. Offering comfort was something they could still do, but not for this situation, jobs. There was no tiptoeing around it. The kid was about to kill someone. He had to face that fact with his fellow Proxies or face it with the Operator.         

Tim was set on that not happening.         

He walked back to where Toby still remained on the ground and hoisted him up, dusting off his jacket. He was shaking, eyes wide and unfocused and still mumbling. His hands were held in front of his chest, concave from his hunched shoulders, and his head twitched nervously. Toby wasn’t looking at Tim and he was starting to wonder whether or not the boy was actually present at the moment or if he was locked away within the recesses of his mind, protecting himself from the situation. Tim’s hands wrapped around his arms.         

“Toby.” He said. “Toby!”         

Toby snapped out of it with a jump, staring frantically at Tim, eyes darting around madly. Deja vu. How many times had he snapped the kid out of his own head?         

“C’mon. We’ve gotta go.” He said softly. Toby shook his head, looking like a toddler.         

“No . . . no . . . please don’t make me.” Toby whispered. Tim winced, so he looked away and began to pull Toby back to the truck.         

Toby fought back, digging his heels into the asphalt and grabbing at Tim’s arm, trying to free his own. “No, Tim! Please, please, please— Just leave me. Leave me here. Let me die. Let me.”         

Tim stopped, taking a moment. “You know I can’t do that, Tobs.” Toby continued to shake his head like a kid, gasping for air. The atmosphere had changed completely. The frenetic energy and anxiety of shattering the window had made way for a calm, deep-seated misery and desperation.         

“This wa-as a muh-mist-ta-ke. I never should’ve agreed, why did I do it? Why did I do it . . . Nuh-never wanted to be a damn Proxy.” Toby rambled. Tim began pulling him towards the truck again and though the boy fought, it wasn’t nearly as desperate as before. Toby let himself be placed in the truck, and the door to be closed. Tim remained outside.         

He desperately needed a smoke, but he knew Brian would never allow it. So he got inside the truck and slammed the door, shutting his eyes and resting his head in his hand.         

“Proxy’s life for me.” Brian sighed, starting the engine and speeding the truck away.

  Everything had become black. The sky was overcast and everything was death. Suddenly being back in civilization after all that had happened felt like some strange fever dream. Passing by the rows of houses in calm suburbia and seeing the faces of strangers walking past, burned something in Toby’s soul.         

A group of teenagers walking back from school on the sidewalk drew closer, and as the Proxy’s truck passed them by Toby met the eyes of a redheaded girl who weakly smiled at him. He felt crushed. Her grey jacket hood was pulled over her head, and he couldn’t help but feel she felt out of place too.  A few days ago, Toby was exactly where she was. A normal teen too focused on . . . human issues to truly see what he had. Then, he would’ve given anything to be where he was, what he thought this life would be. Free from his parents, out of his house, a supernatural being, demon or angel, watching over him. But now, the roles have reversed. He’d give anything to be back. Or so he thought.         

Toby kept his eyes on the girl until she was nothing but a dot in the distance, and even still he tried to look at her, but she was long gone now. He imagined this was what it must be like during the drive to a funeral. Paul’s death and his sister’s death were much too close in time for him to ever experience that, but he knew with certainty this was how it felt. Death surrounded him, shrouding him in darkness, and a reaper sat next to him, nothing more than a black figure of smoke, flipping through an obituary, waiting for Toby to do what he was expected to.         

Kill . . . again. His eyes clenched shut and he gasped for air, wrapping his arms around his middle. His head leaned against the window. He had switched sides so the cold air from the shattered window wouldn’t unknowingly freeze him, and he prayed. Though to whom, he had no idea. Toby wasn’t religious, he never had been. As a child his mother would take him to church, but he never once believed in any of it. He found it all to be one big fascinating story everyone participated in, never was it ever real to him. But . . . maybe there was a reason for all of this. Some kind of divine intervention. But what had he done? What did he do to deserve any of this? Eventually he did commit the worst sin one possibly could, but everything that came before? He was just a kid. A baby. Born with everything that ruined him. He had no control over that.         

Toby sighed bitterly.         

Original sin. Was that possible? Was his original sin that much worse than everyone else's? Or was it because God always knew what Toby would end up being, he cursed him from the very start?         

No. God didn’t work that way. Why didn’t he just curse Eve before she ate the apple?         

It was something else.

 Help me. Forgive me. Angel . . . of light. I need you. Take me back. I don’t want to do this.

 Toby had never prayed before. He didn’t know how to do it, but he was sure if there was something looking over him, something guarding him, it would forgive him for that.        

“Toby . . .”         

His eyes immediately shot open. The low and rumbling cadence of the Operator’s voice resounded within his mind. His breathing quickened, being rapidly struck by a bolt of fear.         

Tim and Brian remained unbothered, both staring at the road. They clearly hadn’t heard it, but Toby wouldn’t put it past them to ignore the Master for the express purpose of leaving him in the dark. Neither had helped him just a while before. They just forced him back into the car and kept going.         

Bastards.         

Slowly and hesitantly, Toby closed his eyes once again.         

Yes?         

Then it spoke. “Forgive Me, Child. You Do Not Deserve This Fate . . . But, I Am Afraid, This Is Necessary For You To Reach Greatness.”         

Toby could hardly believe he was talking with it again. Wh-why have you done this to me? That void with the voices and Lyra . . . The test with the pages? You didn’t even tell me about the other Proxies, a dream did. And now,  this?         

You . . . You’ve betrayed me.         

“No, Toby. I Would Never Betray You. You Are My Fledgling. My Child. My Proxy . . . I Warned You And Guided You Every Step Of The Way. I Have Been Here From The Start.”         

 The image of Paul storming up to Toby’s room appeared, hazy and grainy. He saw himself in his room, drawing a picture of a bird in a notepad. The Operator appeared in the woods beyond his window and something whispered in his ear. He looked up, and saw it outside.        

Instantly, he jumped up, throwing what was in his hands, and opened the window, climbing out of it and falling from the second story into the bushes below. He made no noise, and pressed his back against the wall of the house. The sound of Paul slamming open his door erupted from inside. “Toby!” He shouted. “Damn it, where is that boy? RACHEL—” The image withered and died.         

“Love Was Something You Hadn’t Felt Before Me. There Are Rules, Toby. Rules Not Spoken In Any Known Tongue Or Written In Any Known Language. Rules Beyond The Facilities Of Your Mindscape. Everything I Do, I Do For The Sake Of My Proxies.

“I Am Inside You, Just As You Are Inside Me. I Am Part Of You, Just As You Are A Part Of Me. My Proxies Are Connected To One Another. A Family.         

“That Is What We Are. Family Does Not Lie To One Another, Just As Family Does Not Betray One Another, Just As Family Is Devoted To One Another, I Am Devoted To You, As You Are To Me.” The Operator continued.         

“It Pains Me Beyond Mortal Comprehension Watching My Proxies Suffer, Argue And Live In Fear. But As Any Great Being, All Is Necessary. All Is Written To Be. Balance, My Child, Is The Mightiest Rule. Believe Me When I Say I Reprehend Any Harm That Comes Your Way. I Detest It. And I Grieve It. I Am Sorry That It Must Be.”         

It must be. Toby repeated.        

Silence.         

I think I understand. It’s just . . . hard to keep a level head about. All of this has been so awful. But you really were always looking after me. Like an Angel. A Guardian Angel, do you forgive me?         

“Always, My Child.”         

Are you an Angel?         

Silence again . . . Still silent.    

     Toby’s disappointment began to grow. After a minute of waiting, he opened his eyes again, feeling worse for wear, though the dread and darkness he felt before speaking to him seemed to have disappeared completely. He felt comfort and warmth in its place, even if demystified.         

Toby sniffed and went to pull his hood back over his head. At least it wasn’t for nothing. He felt better.

He raised his hand to tug on his hood when he noticed . . . the bandage . . . was white. He raised a brow and felt his hands, they were no longer wet with blood from breaking the window. Quickly, he undid the gauze and a knowing smile gleamed across his face. His hand was completely . . . fine. No cuts, no glass bits, no blood, nothing at all. It was like nothing had happened. Then, he undid his other hand’s gauze. Exactly the same. The mysterious cuts from the night he had forgotten were gone. He made an airy laugh and threw the gauze to the floor, staring at his hands that healed like magic . . . like the magic of an angel.         

Thank you, He thought. Angel!

  The truck had stopped, and not a grey house was in sight. Toby looked around and over his shoulder, but still, nothing.         

“Glad you’ve calmed down.” Tim sighed, rubbing his forehead. Toby’s upper lip pulled.         

“You’re not going to find the house, kid, we park at least three blocks away.” Brian said.         

Toby ‘hurl ticked’ as he glared at the pair and his leg jerked rapidly and struck the back of Brian’s seat. “HUHT!”         

Brian was pushed forward and glared at Tim while it happened. Tim just coughed. Toby thought he deserved it.         

“Okay, new game idea!” Brian turned around to face the backseat. “Toby!” He said in a sing-song voice. “How about you tell us what tics you have so when I beat you I know whether you deserved it or not!”         

“Bite me!” Toby grit his teeth, behaving unusually confident.         

“You sure you want to go there, Rogers?” Brian spat, slightly shocked by his rebuttal.        

Tim’s coughing suddenly became worse. Toby was prepared to ignore him and defend himself against whatever Brian was going to do, but to his surprise, Brian moved on instantly and shifted back to facing the windshield.         

Tim sounded like he was barely breathing. Toby moved forward.         

“I-is he alright?”         

“Quiet, Toby.”         

Tim continued to gag, but Brian was completely nonchalant, resting his head against his gloved fist. Toby stared on in horror.         

“Hey— Aren’t you going to help him?”         

Nothing.         

“What’s happening to him?”         

“Toby.”         

“H-he’s practi-practically choking!”         

“Toby, shut the hell up for once and listen to me, please.”         

“Listen To Him, Child.” Toby immediately shut his mouth and fell back into the backseat, crossing his arms. That one rebuttal was all he had in him, and his fear of the other Proxies had returned in a flash. Toby tried to ignore Tim’s fit as the Proxy opened the passenger door and stepped outside of the car. Brian followed and met up with him on the other side, leaving Toby alone in the vehicle.

        He didn’t want to follow. He was fuming and at the same time terrified of what the others might do. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a real fight. Who knew what Brian and Tim were capable of when really angry. The fighting, though, wasn’t that bad. At all. It wasn’t real fighting. Toby had plenty of experience with real fighting and the pure, vile ugly disdain that accompanied it. Something that wasn’t present in their arguments. Which he thanked his lucky stars for.         

Their fights were petty. Likely fueled by stress. Easily forgiven. Easily forgotten.

Brian looked back into the truck and the two met eyes. Toby bit his lip, preparing himself for the awful look he was certain to receive . . . that never came.         

Watching, the boy forgave Brian silently for the encounter and could tell he had understood, an echo of a smile creasing his eyes. It was a stressful situation. Of course they snapped at each other.         

Tim had stopped coughing and Brian was saying something to him, but even with the smashed window Toby couldn’t hear a thing.         

Tim was facing away from the car, so Toby couldn’t see his face, but he could tell something was different about him. The truck’s oxygen grew heavy on his shoulders and his heart was thumping out of his chest.         

Tim looked up and down the street. “Grey house? Finally?”         

“Yeah.” Brian said, sounding annoyed.         

“Rock and roll.” Tim grabbed a cigarette from his pack and lit it with a speed only an experienced smoker could. Toby’s mouth fell open. Brian didn’t respond to the cigarette, nor was he even looking at him, he merely checked his watch with a sigh. Toby crawled out of the truck.         

“Are you insane? Smoking after tha—” He stopped. Brian was giving him a weird look and he wasn’t quite sure what it meant.

Tim glared at the boy and he immediately went rigid. Apologetically, Toby took a few steps back, raising his hands, feeling as though he had alerted a hungry wolf to his location.         

“What happened to those bandages?” Brian asked, clearly making an attempt to cut through the danger that leaked from the air.         

“Uh-h. Um. I—” Tongue clicking and neck cracking aggressively, Toby really had to focus to get his words out.         

“Are your cuts healed?” Brian gawked, striding forward and seizing Toby’s wrist. This time, Toby let the Proxy examine his hands.         

“It was hhh-him!” He gasped. “They’re all fine now-w.”         

“Fine.” Brian hissed quietly, not believing him. Suddenly, Toby was pulled forward. “Keep yourself in check. You won’t be easily forgiven for mistakes.” He threatened in his ear.         

“What are you—”         

“I guess they are fine.” Brian interrupted, throwing Toby’s hands down. Tim eyed the two of them menacingly, smoke escaping through his nose.  Toby realized then he had no handle on the situation, no grasp of what was happening, but at this point, he was more than used to it. If there was one thing he’d learned over the past weeks, it was how to disappear when he needed to. Rolling his shoulders over, he stared at his Chuck Taylor’s and focused hard on keeping his tics to a minimum.         

“C’mon and get back in the truck. We’ve gotta park in the woods and give Rookie, here, a run down.”

  ******

 “See this gun?”         

“Yeah.”         

“We don’t use them.”         

“Great. Helpful. S-so what should I use?”         

“Whatever you want.”         

“My hatche—”         

“Except your hatchets. That’s extreme.”        

Too extreme for murder? “Okay.” Toby exhaled. “What should I u-use?”      

The Proxies were now standing about a mile deep into the Grey house neighborhood’s forest. The truck’s trunk was opened and the black sports bag was unzipped, its deadly contents spilling out. Tim leaned against the car, sharpening a hunting knife, chattering Toby’s teeth with every grating swipe. SHHHK!         

Brian thought for a moment, looking the Rookie up and down. “What are you good at?”         

Toby was starting to get sick of how vaguely Brian spoke. “Muh-meaning?”         

SHHHK!         

“Like, are you agile? Fast? Can you think quickly in stressful situations?”         

Now it was Toby’s turn to think. But only for a split second. “How the hell should I know?”         

“Toby . . .”         

“Give ‘im a knife.” Tim spoke rather loudly. Another SHHHK!         

Toby had only a flash of a moment to turn around, and when he did, he saw the hunting knife flying towards his head.         

The boy swiftly dodged to the side, but not without stumbling. He fell to the dirt, the knife landing a yard away from him.         

Breathing.         

And then,         

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!” Toby howled. Tim cackled gruffly and shrugged.         “

Well, you dodged it, didn’t you?”         

“BARELY.”         

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Tossing the sharpener, Tim crossed his arms and made the same smug look from before when Toby scolded him for smoking. Brian hoisted Toby from the ground. He was sick of being pulled from the floor.         

“You’ve made your point.” Brian spat. “Quit doing that.”         

“He’s done that before?” Toby gasped.         

“Now you know he’s agile, and fast, and quick-witted. You’re welcome.” Tim added with a cocky wink. Now Toby couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself.         

“Brian, you need to tell me what’s happening.” He whispered furiously.         

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He replied lazily, grabbing the hunting knife from the ground by the flat side of its blade, handing it to Toby. He squinted. “Speaking of, how come you’re no longer . . . freaking out?”         

Toby gulped. He didn’t know whether to tell Brian about his encounter with the Operator or not. “I—”         

“Nevermind, I don’t even want to know. Don’t want to jinx it. We’re all psychopaths here. Take it, wouldya?” Toby took the knife, its blade glimmered.         

“TCH!” He ticked, “So . . . who are we . . .” He couldn’t say killing no matter how hard he tried. It was all so surreal, like some sick dream, a dream that refused to let him reference the monstrosity he was about to commit.         

“Mr. and Mrs. Frazier. Around forty, each. Mr. Frazier is a little out of shape, but big. The wife is small and thin, she’ll be easy.” Brian responded, matter-of-factly.         

Toby felt dizzy at the implication.         

“They have a daughter. We’re not touching her.”         

“ . . . But why?”         

“She’s sixteen.” Brian stated, as though that was obvious.         

“I’m seventeen.” Toby remarked.         

“Not the same. We’re not killing you, are we?” Brian said. Toby felt that was a threat. “And if we were, we wouldn’t lay a hand on you, either.”         

“Is that a rule? The Op-pe-perator says so?”         

“It’s . . . Tim’s rule. Speaking of . . .There’s a few more of them.”         

Toby frowned.         

“Don’t be seen. You cannot be recognized no matter what.”         

“That’s why you and Tim have those masks?”         

“Yeah, but we’re using different ones now. Those other ones are too . . . comical.” Brian continued. “Don’t use anyone’s real names. And no one escapes.”         

For whatever reason, Toby was expecting much more extreme rules. “That’s it?”         

Brian nodded.         

“Okay-y. But I don’t have a mas-sk.”         

Looking back to the truck, Brian grabbed something from a zipped hiking bag and handed it to Toby.         

“. . . Y-you’re joking.”         

“Nope.” Brian remarked, unbothered. “Maybe you can wear those goggles too. They’re in the same bag.”

In his hands, Toby held what appeared to be a broken, metal mask. The “mask” appeared more like a dog muzzle, being only a few rows of thick metal bars attached to a strap to secure it in place. The top half of it was completely missing leaving the bars jagged like it had sustained heavy damage, and when he held it up to his face, it barely even covered his nose. The sharp bits of metal were sure to be a hazard, and he had a hell of a time discerning if it was even worth wearing at all since it failed to hide anything, but decided he would anyway, not wanting to face the wrath of Brian or Tim.

  ******

  Brian had eventually wandered back to his truck and started talking with Tim about something Toby was apparently left out of, again. The boy found a tree to lean against and squatted down, dropping his head in his hands, daydreaming, coming up with anything his mind could create to get him out of where he was. Away from the woods. Away from death.

Air was being sucked out of him as he breathed. Every breath shallow, and every sigh long. Pinched throat, tight and taut from excess use and stressors choking him every hour. The sun had set. The tree’s spindly, bone-like leaves illuminated it seemed. Yellow spine striking the blue hue of the unending woods. Golden lights of another house far away blinked at him, mocking him. Warmth, comfort, light . . . all things he has not received. Not recently. Not ever. Not from humans, anyway . . . A harsh wind struck his exposed skin, cutting him. Eyes set forward, not sideways, not down, not up, Toby’s hands pressed together in a praying position up against his lip.         

At this time, the sky was brighter than the surroundings. It was a pale, dusty blue, yet every tree and rock melted together into one nearly black mess. The trees were tall, stretching as time crawled on, extending their branches and their reach atop the canopy they created. The moon was locked away with her stars. There were no birds, no frogs, no crickets, no people. Only silence and the eerie shaking of the bone-leaves. Shadows upon shadows shaded the ground to pitch nothingness, frightening him. What if he stepped and found the ground missing from beneath him?         

Stirred. Everything stirred. There was an unseen, unheard desperate rumbling of impending doom. Nerves shot, adrenaline drilling into his ribcage, his heart pumped fiercely, but he couldn’t feel it at all. He thought maybe he was calm, but everything pointed far and against that theory. He was almost shaking.         

Like nerves before the curtains rise, the darkness of the world at the time of the evening show, a familiar buzz and dread rattled the surroundings. Toby had begun to hate the color blue. When the world was shrouded in that blood curdling shade, bad things were barreling towards. Evening, twilight and night. Lustful in their attempts to frighten and perturb. Hate seeped from his fingertips, stars glittered in his eyes, his heart wrenched, for himself or someone else, unsure, teeth ground. His shoes against the dirt connecting himself to this world he had long since come to scorn with a bleeding, antagonistic venom, encompassing as lightning, obsessive as worship.         

The others were nothing but silhouettes like his first encounter with them, eyes glowing white. Groggily the wind came to a close, leaving them with nothing to soothe their ears but ominous ringing. Church bell? School bell? Something like a siren. Something chilling. Smoke danced upwards, shadowing the ice blue sky, before being put out. They looked at him, but he looked back only with his eyes. They hadn’t trained him in the slightest, or even disclosed the plan. It was a procedure he would have to improvise as it carried on.         

Yet he couldn’t help but discern a strange hint of familiarity . . . with all of this. The feeling, the way the world was painted through his eyes. Scenery generated stories, he knew as much, but this was different. Something deja vu.         

Death emerged, looming over them, overshadowing any and everything. Three reapers marched forwards, parading with nothing but apathy, sounding impassivity, and a resounding sense of mysticism. It was a job. Simply a job. What awaited them, calm and dangerous as a slimy snake should they refuse, was objectively worse. Each member of the lurid trinity donned a knife, in hand, pocket and sheath. Archangel, Seraph and Cherub equal in rank in their strides.       

   In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.         

Chrome Archangel, head to toe wear as sallow as the skin stretched over his contused immortal soul, was outfitted with a Beretta M9 should things take a catastrophic turn, as well as a link of chain as long as 12 feet clipped by carabiner to a tactical belt he snagged from the sports bag and strapped on moments before. His expression was pulled downwards in a seething grimace, cruel and cold.

        With the intercession of Mary, the Immaculate Virgin Mary, the Blessed Archangel Michael, the blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, and all the Saints,          

With an unmistakable empowered spring in his step, trenchant Seraph, gaze as sharp as his blade, stepped with haste, an unbearable hunger for what was to come. The bases of his fingers glinted over their leather gloves, a silver wink of brass knuckles, and dangling from his hands, a black, metal bat swung lazily back and forth, just grazing the dry grasses beneath their feet. Eyes as steely as an ascetic killer, he radiated energy, vicious, dangerous energy.        

 and entrusted with the authority of our sacred ministry, we proceed with an ax to repel the infestations of diabolical fraud.         

And Cherub, belial in nature, grasped a sense of inadmissibility. Every wrong action, premeditated or otherwise, was certain to reap a lashing, lash out or otherwise means of punishment. Outfitted with nothing but a hunting knife and duct tape, he felt overt, naked. The others hadn’t put much thought into him, his safety, or if his outfit was sufficient. Nonetheless the little Cherub strode beside them, not behind, falling into place, feeling the others remain beside him.    

     Per Aspera, Ad Inferi.

 The back porch of the house was in front of them. There was a swinging bench, a bird bath, and a row of flowers near the sliding glass door. The three Proxies positioned yards away all crouched behind a large bush, a strange mix of excitement and terror emanating from them. Toby’s back was against the plant and ducked down further than the others as he had been instructed.         

“Whatever happened to not-t being see-seen?” He whispered contentiously. Brian was stalking the house like a wildcat would a cardinal, even angling his head in a remarkably animalistic nature. Toby seemed to have snapped him out of it, however.         

“No one would recognize us if they tried. This is our first time in Colorado. Plus, we won’t be seen.” He said, eyes still plastered to the back porch.         

“But you can’t know that for sure.” Toby shot back.         

“We’re sure.” Tim suddenly spoke up, startling him.         

“Then why do I have to wear this stupid thing, it doesn’t eve-even cover muh-my face.”         

“Because you could still be recognized.” Brian said.         

A feeling of iniquity coursed through the boy’s veins, but he once again said nothing.         

“It’s more of an intimidation thing anyway. We’re never seen. And if we are, the witness doesn’t tend to remain alive for very long.”         

“You said their daughter is going to live, though. Won’t she see us?”         

“Boy, Toby, you sure ask a lot of questions.” Brian groaned.         

“Oh, excuse me. This is my first tim-me being forced to muh-murd-der for an entity, I apologize.” Toby snarked.         

“Just keep barking, dog.” Tim piped up.         

“Is my question that unreasonable.”         

Brian looked down. “No. It’s not. Here, we’ll give you a run through of the plan.” Toby perked up, straightening his shoulders. Finally.         

The chrome Proxy coughedt, ducking further behind the bush. “We decided you’re not going to lay a hand on anyone tonight.”         

“What?” Toby growled indignantly.          

“You’re just going to tag along.” Brian continued, ignoring him completely. “Just stay around us and watch.”         

“Spectate a murder.” Wouldn't sitting along the sidelines be disobeying the Operator?         

“Keep interrupting. No, please. Keep doing that. See where it gets you, Rogers.” Tim added.         

“I told you not to call me that.” Balling his fists, the young Proxy suddenly felt he was being dogpiled by the others.         

“And apparently I don’t give a shit. Just spectate. Stay out of trouble and stay out of the fight. Just sit in a corner or something and watch. Ain’t that hard, kid.” Tim said, adjusting his flight jacket. Squinting, Toby stared down at his shoes, feeling hurt by Tim’s unusually harsh words. Early on he had assumed Tim was the easy going one, the temperate one that he could count on to be somewhat reasonable in comparison to Brian, at least sometimes, but now that idea was crumbling before his eyes. “Okay, we ready?”         

“Wait!” Toby accidentally shouted. The two homicidal men glared at him. “I . . . Can I please get my hatchets?”         

They both groaned, rolling their eyes.         

“If you’re going to keep bitching? Fine.” Brian said after a while.         

Not wanting to keep them waiting, Toby sprinted back to the truck and returned in a matter of minutes.         

“You ran that distance . . . that fast?” Brian gawked. Toby’s two hatchets now dangled beside his thighs, edges facing behind him. He nodded. Brian made a face, something that meant he was impressed and Toby grinned. Finally, he’d managed to please at least one of them.         

He was much more relieved now that he had his hatchets beside him. Something about their handles and familiar weight felt comfortable in his grip. Even if he wasn’t going to hurt anyone as Brian said, he still liked having them there . . . just in case.         

“Nuh-now I’m r-ready.”         

“Muh me too.” Tim mocked with a raspy laugh. Another devastating blow. Toby’s face flushed, though he couldn’t feel it, and pulled his hood over his head, just wanting to disappear. Tim was on a roll tonight, crushing Toby completely. What had happened after that coughing fit? Toby wondered. It was like he was a different person.         

Brian shot Tim a look, reminding him to keep in line, and he responded by standing up and strolling nonchalantly to the back porch. Toby could see the change in Brian, the hair stood up on the back of his neck.         

“Tim! What the hell are you doing?” Brian scream-whispered, leaning around the bush on his hands and knees. Tim turned around, now walking backwards towards Grey house. Arrogantly, he shrugged with an imperious stretch of his lips.         

“What does it look like, Brian? Just walkin’.” With a small skip and a kick of a rock, Tim advanced to the porch and pulled at the handle to the sliding door. Loudly, the handle rattled and the door rebounded around the frame.         

CLUNK! CLUNK! CLUNK!         

Tim then became very interested in the ground.         

“Tim!” Brian shouted. His heart was racing. Looking at Toby, he decided right then that they had no choice but to go along with whatever the lunatic was doing. “C’mon.” he said. “It’s not like we had much of a plan to begin with.” He stood up from the ground, his knee cracked painfully from crouching for too long, but he shook it off. Toby trailed behind.         

CRASH!         

“Helloooo?” Tim shouted in a sing-song voice. Brian grimaced darkly, shoulders rising to his ears, and fists balling, he wanted to say something. Tim had picked up a rock, tossing it through the door and kicked at the remaining glass.         

‘Interesting all of this, very, very, very interesting.’         

“What?” Toby asked.         

“Don’t you think that’s a little risky?” Brian hissed.         

“No, what you just s-said.” Toby’s head fell to the side. Brian cocked a brow, a face he often made. He had no idea what Toby was talking about. He ignored him and stepped inside after Tim.         

‘I hated him. For what he had done. All of what he had done.’         

Toby collapsed to a crouch, hands cupping his ears once again. Now they were back, again. But why? What was it now? There was never any rhyme or reason to them appearing.         

Someone screamed and he winced.         

The cacophony of ghouls erupted in his ears again. Screaming, crying, cursing and pleading. Detailing gruesome crimes with bone chilling wails.         

“Kid! C’mon!” Brian shouted. Toby stumbled up and sprinted forwards, tripping over the sliding door frame and falling into Brian, gripping his hoodie. Reacting rather severely, Brian grabbed onto him to stop him from falling. Surprisingly, though, he said nothing after that, too focused on Tim who was now making his way through the house.         

“Damn Proxy.” Brian hissed, chasing after Tim.         

Even though he was already inside, Toby hesitated when stepping further in. This wasn’t his house. This wasn’t his stuff. This was intruding.         

He found all of this rather ironic. After all, the only reason he was intruding in the first place was for the sole purpose of ending the lives within the home. Still, he was distracted, his own thoughts didn’t remain in his head for very long. Hands still cupped over his ears, Toby followed in after Brian.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 2.28

202 BC – Liu Bang is enthroned as the Emperor of China, beginning four centuries of rule by the Han dynasty. 870 – The Fourth Council of Constantinople closes. 1525 – Aztec king Cuauhtémoc is executed on the order of conquistador Hernán Cortés. 1638 – The Scottish National Covenant is signed in Edinburgh. 1835 – Elias Lönnrot signed and dated the first version of the Kalevala, the so-called foreword to the Old Kalevala. 1844 – A gun explodes on board the steam warship USS Princeton during a pleasure cruise down the Potomac River, killing six, including Secretary of State Abel Upshur. President John Tyler, who was also on board, was not injured from the blast. 1922 – The United Kingdom ends its protectorate over Egypt through a Unilateral Declaration of Independence. 1925 – The Charlevoix-Kamouraska earthquake strikes northeastern North America. 1947 – February 28 Incident: In Taiwan, civil disorder is put down with the loss of an estimated 30,000 civilians. 1948 – Christiansborg Cross-Roads shooting in the Gold Coast, when a British police officer opens fire on a march of ex-servicemen, killing three of them and sparking major riots and looting in Accra. 1953 – James Watson and Francis Crick announce to friends that they have determined the chemical structure of DNA; the formal announcement takes place on April 25 following publication in April's Nature (pub. April 2). 1958 – A school bus in Floyd County, Kentucky hits a wrecker truck and plunges down an embankment into the rain-swollen Levisa Fork river. The driver and 26 children die in what remains one of the worst school bus accidents in U.S. history. 1959 – Discoverer 1, an American spy satellite that is the first object intended to achieve a polar orbit, is launched but fails to achieve orbit. 1966 – A NASA T-38 Talon crashes into the McDonnell Aircraft factory while attempting a poor-visibility landing at Lambert Field, St. Louis, killing astronauts Elliot See and Charles Bassett. 1972 – China–United States relations: The United States and China sign the Shanghai Communiqué. 1974 – The British election ended in a hung parliament after the Jeremy Thorpe-led Liberal Party achieved their biggest vote. 1975 – In London, an underground train fails to stop at Moorgate terminus station and crashes into the end of the tunnel, killing 43 people. 1980 – Andalusia approves its statute of autonomy through a referendum. 1983 – The final episode of M*A*S*H airs, with almost 106 million viewers. It still holds the record for the highest viewership of a season finale. 1985 – The Provisional Irish Republican Army carries out a mortar attack on the Royal Ulster Constabulary police station at Newry, killing nine officers in the highest loss of life for the RUC on a single day. 1986 – Olof Palme, 26th Prime Minister of Sweden, is assassinated in Stockholm. 1991 – The first Gulf War ends. 1993 – The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms agents raid the Branch Davidian church in Waco, Texas with a warrant to arrest the group's leader David Koresh. Four ATF agents and six Davidians die in the initial raid, starting a 51-day standoff. 1995 – Former Australian Liberal party leader John Hewson resigns from the Australian parliament almost two years after losing the 1993 Australian federal election. 1997 – An earthquake in northern Iran is responsible for about 3,000 deaths. 1997 – GRB 970228, a highly luminous flash of gamma rays, strikes the Earth for 80 seconds, providing early evidence that gamma-ray bursts occur well beyond the Milky Way. 1997 – A Turkish military memorandum resulted with collapse of the government in Turkey. 2001 – The 2001 Nisqually earthquake, having a moment magnitude of 6.8, with epicenter in the southern Puget Sound, damages Seattle metropolitan area. 2002 – During the religious violence in Gujarat, 97 people are killed in the Naroda Patiya massacre and 69 in the Gulbarg Society massacre. 2004 – Over one million Taiwanese participate in the 228 Hand-in-Hand rally form a 500-kilometre (310 mi) long human chain to commemorate the February 28 Incident in 1947. 2005 – A suicide bombing at a police recruiting centre in Al Hillah, Iraq kills 127. 2013 – Pope Benedict XVI resigns as the pope of the Catholic Church, becoming the first pope to do so since Pope Gregory XII, in 1415.

[mobydyke]

I think it's rly funny that I grew up wanting to be like Holmes but I turned into a Watson and I'm okay with this bc the quality I share most with Holmes is that I fucking love John Watson so regardless of which character I see myself in, I am participating in an act of radical self love bc they adore each other

[msfilmdiary]

The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012)

Starring: Emma Watson, Logan Lerman, Ezra Miller, Mae Whitman, Nina Dobrev, Paul Rudd, Johnny Simmons, Kate Walsh, Dylan McDermott, Nicholas Braun, and Melanie Lynskey

Screenplay by Stephen Chbosky 

Directed by Stephen Chbosky 

Cinematography by Andrew Dunn

I do not own any of the photos posted. 

SPOILERS AHEAD 

First of all, I want to say that I love this book. I read it once about every couple of months, and I find something new in it every time I read it. 

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is a coming-of-age film written and directed by Stephen Chbosky. The film is told, like the book, in a series of letters written by Charlie to an unknown recipient. These letters include his triumphs and tribulations of his freshman year of high school. The films depict his mental struggles and his journey with his friends, Sam and Patrick. 

After meeting the well-rounded seniors Sam and Patrick at a football game, they invite him to a party. At said party, Charlie accidentally consumes a weed brownie and tells Sam that his best friend committed suicide. He also walks in on Patrick and the school’s quarterback Brad, kissing, to which Patrick tells Charlie that Brad is closed. Both Sam and Patrick then drive Charlie home and experience the infamous tunnel scene, which is possibly one of the most memorable scenes in the film. 

As the film progresses, Charlie slowly develops feelings for Sam and tells her on multiple occasions. Sam, however, has a boyfriend in college named Craig. Charlie later confesses to Sam that he’d never been kissed, and Sam tells him that his first kiss should be with someone who loves him, and ultimately ends up kissing him.

Charlie later begins a relationship with Sam’s friend Mary Elizabeth after the Rocky Horror Picture Show, while still having obvious feelings for Sam. At a party, Charlie is dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room by Patrick, to which he ends up kissing Sam instead of Mary Elizabeth, upsetting them both. Patrick advises Charlie to distance himself from everyone for a little while, and he ends up in isolation and deep depression. 

When Charlie returns to school, he notices that Brad shows up with bruises on his face after being caught having sex with Patrick by his father. He claims he was jumped, and begins to distance himself from Patrick, calling him a f*ggot. Patrick punches him, and Brad’s friends begin beating on him until Charlie intervenes and blacks out. After recovering, he finds that Brad’s friends are incapacitated, while his hands are bruised from fighting. Sam and Patrick express gratitude towards Charlie, seemingly forgiving him for past events. However, after blacking out, Charlie’s mental state begins to worsen and worsen. 

TW: sexual assault 

Patrick then kisses Charlie and immediately apologizes. Sam is accepted into Pennsylvania State University, and breaks up with her Craig after learning of his faithfulness. The night before she leaves for college, her and Charlie confide in each other, and he experiences flashbacks of his Aunt Helen, his aunt who died in a car crash when he was seven. After Sam leaves for college the next morning, Charlie’s mental state deteriorates, and his flashbacks become more and more apparent. He blames himself for his aunt’s death, and is later committed to a mental hospital where it is revealed that she sexually abused him. 

The film ends with Sam, Patrick and Charlie revisiting the tunnel where Sam has revealed she has found the perfect tunnel song–“Heroes” by David Bowie. Sam kisses Charlie, and he stands up on the back of the truck, acknowledging that he feels alive with the statement “We are infinite.” 

As someone who's both read The Perks of Being a Wallflower and seen the film, it’s difficult to separate the materials into their own entities, despite being the same story. The casting is near perfection, as I couldn’t imagine anyone besides Emma Watson playing Sam and Ezra Miller playing Patrick. They both deliver a stellar performance, as did Paul Rudd with Mr. Anderson, and Mae Whitman as Mary Elizabeth. 

The film allows Emma Watson to shed her ten year Harry Potter skin, in a role that I don’t think could’ve been more perfect for her. It allows Ezra Miller some dimension when compared to his character in We Need To Talk About Kevin. 

I want to talk about Sam and the “manic pixie dream girl” stereotype that is often placed on her, mostly because I don’t think she fits any of the characteristics. I recently wrote an essay about strong female characters being overtaken by this craize of the “manic pixie dream girl,” to which I discussed her character, and how I think that she is not solely there for Charlie’s gain and fixation (as many characters with manic pixie dream girl syndrome are.) I think her character separation from Charlie is more prevalent in the book, as I believe that her character on paper is more determined to be seen as separate from the people around her. She isn’t there solely to fix Charlie, or anyone around her for that matter. She has dreams and ambitions, and her own goals away from Charlie. She grows as a character, but not at Charlie’s, or any other male character's expense. She is her own person, or character, rather it be. 

Let’s talk about the soundtrack, which I think truly brought The Perks of Being a Wallflower to life from paper to screen. From my perspective, many of those who watch the film now associate certain songs with certain scenes, like “Come on Eileen” with Sam and Patrick dancing, or “Heroes” with the tunnel scene. For one, I think that replacing Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” for David Bowie’s “Heroes'' made the tunnel scene absolutely magical, more than the book could ever do. I think the tunnel scene made the movie stand out, while the tunnel scene in the book was what I remember being as words on paper. I couldn’t see the scene in my head, whereas the film depicted a version that I believe to be more memorable than the film as a whole itself. Other notable mentions I would like to include would be the song “Could it Be Another Change?” and “Teen Age Riot,” which I think were perfect selections for the feel of the film.  

I would categorize this film as a teenage classic (I know, big words) mostly because I think so many teenagers relate to it. It’s funny and charming, but also at times it allows the viewer to think and reflect about what’s happening around them. The film allows a break from reality, but not a complete severe that doesn’t allow one to stay grounded. I also, for another pointer, think the soundtrack is phenomenal. 

That being said, do I think that the film is better than the book? No. A hundred times no. Do I detest the film? No. I don’t. I think it’s a extraordinary adaptation, and I think that it’s so extraordinary because it’s written and directed by Chbosky himself. He created real characters, both on paper and on screen, that allowed many of the viewers to see themselves in the film. He allowed the viewers to (forgive me) feel infinite. Which, in turn, is all anyone truly wants, to feel completely and utterly infinite. 

Overall rating: 8/10

[heavenunderthemoon]

Growing Pains- Spencer Reid x Reader {Chapter Two}

Prologue, Chapter one

The newly acquired I.D. badge battered her hip as y/n entered the bullpen, the heavy glass door shutting with a 'click' behind her.

It was as hectic as it normally was on a Wednesday on the Behavioral Analysis Unit's floor. Clerical agents walked to and fro amongst the sea of desks and strangely enough, rather than being overwhelmed by the vast amount of bustle before her, the newly entered female's lips quirked a bit at the corners at the constant foot traffic.

She hadn't heard him, Spencer thought with reassurance. Of course she hadn't heard him. A whisper, your name dancing across his tongue in a moment of surprise as you had entered, lost into the wind, floating into the abyss that was the sixth floor of the federal building, only heard to the small group surrounding him.

But not to you. Not to the woman whose eyes had sharp swept the room, passing over him with ease. A small part of him was struck with a small horrific thought: Was he forgettable? Forgettable enough that you had forgotten him entirely, all those years of whispered secrets, tree climbing, and treasure burying? All the years that you had knocked on his front door, bidding his mother a hello regardless of the mood she was in, strutting into his room until you flopped onto his floor (even if he was okay with pinky promises, slow dances, and arms thrown over his shoulder he never could allow you to sit on his bed and you were okay with that). Had you erased him from your memory?

And then another terrible, stomach-twisting, nausea-inducing thought struck next: Did you recognize him and simply steel yourself to appear ad if you hadn't? Did you not want to recognize him? The fizzling of your friendship had been neutral, he could remember that clearly. His mind wouldn't allow anything different. His mind had been haunting him all morning and it taunted him once more, sucking him into the last conversation he could recall the two of you sharing.

"Hold on, Spencer," Your father's gruff voice asked the boy, and the Reid boy nodded despite the man not being able to see him. Your father always had that affect on him. The hard stares, narrowed eyes, stiff posture; It all told the Reid boy that the man lived in a cloud of suspicion around his relationship with you. Friendship, Spencer corrected himself mentally, cheeks heating up at the mere thought of anything more.

There was shuffling on the other end of the phone, your father yelling for you to hurry up and the sound of your loud footsteps. He could close his eyes, imagining precisely what your movements would be. He could see you clamoring down the stairs, jumping halfway down the staircase because you were a bit too impatient to actually walk down them all the way. He could see you rounding the corner, the way your hand would use the bannister as a device to twist yourself around the corner, coming into the eye line of your father. He could see all the forgotten work boots and soccer cleats that lay discarded near your kitchen door (your brothers were awful at putting them away and your father hardly cared enough to tell them not to. Even you had a pair of sneakers propped against the baseboards.).

"It's Spencer." Your father said in that tone he used with the boy, saying his name similar to how Spencer might have said he had found a bug on his shoe- petulant and irritated- and suddenly he was opening his eyes back up, grateful to be in that stuffy phonebooth, the hot sun beating through the tempered glass window panes.

"Sherlock?" Your voice sounded different, he decided immediately. Deeper, but not by too much. He wondered if you had grown in the time between your last sighting of eachother (a full year, at this point).  He wondered if your hair was longer- before he left, you had convinced yourself that cutting your own hair was a good idea. You had been obsessed with the Bangles and Susanna's bangs were the peak of your hyper-fixation. He had tried to talk you out of it, but, you were, well, you. You were a 'do first, think second 'person. You always had been. You had been when you broke your arm in the fifth grade deciding to make the leap from your roof to your father's truck bed (It was much farther than you had estimated). You had been when you kept the fish you had won from a carnival (Pickles the Fish had not lasted very long in the Y/L/N household, his bowl a bit too close to the cat's resting place). And you were when you had stood in your bathroom, Spencer sitting on the bathtub's ledge as he covered his eyes, his green orbs peaking out from open fingers, watching as you chopped your hair with kitchen scissors.

"Watson." The nickname, one he hadn't spoken in what seemed like ages flowed freely from his lips. He remembered when he had first introduced you to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. how you had leant against him underneath the shade of that old Willow tree at the end of the block. Your head on his leg, his own propped up on the trunk of that tree. Your initials were carved onto it- Spencer's idea, surprisingly, and it showed by the sloppiness of that carving because his mother hardly ever let him near knives. And under the shade of that tree, the wind whistling through the barren branches he had read, hardly stumbling over the large words before him and even if you didn't quite understand everything he was saying you listened because this was one of the few times he didn't stutter- not once.

"You were supposed to call last night." You said sullenly. It was true. You had scheduled your call times for at least once a month on the third Wednesday of each month. It was the only days you got out of school early, early enough to catch him when he wasn't in lecture or seminars or library study sessions.

The boy's eyes flickered down to his shoes. Sneakers- you would be proud. He had never worn Converse before. He was lucky if his mother remembered to buy groceries, let alone new shoes and the boy found himself grabbing the cheapest pair at Salvation army's and Thrift Stores. He had seen the chucks on you often enough, how free you looked when you ran across the desert roads, shoes against pavement. And now, away from home he had splurged and gotten a pair, a small piece of you, a small piece of home.

"I know, I'm sorry. I got caught up in my book-"

You sighed and Spencer could tell you were wishing he had a better excuse. A better excuse than getting lost in the pages of something he could've read later. Something he could have set aside for time spent talking to you. But, because it was you, he knew you wouldn't say that. You wouldn't express your feelings because you had never really been good at that unless it was also followed with a swift punch to the gut.

"I'm sorry." He settled, and just like that you were telling him about the current events in his hometown, how his mother was, how the boys that had once chased him through the halls were finding themselves after graduating, but he could tell a shift in your tone, a loss of trust, and a pang of hurt.

"Spencer. Spencer." JJ's voice made the Reid man glance up from where he had been staring at you- or where you had been? A quick glance around the room had him planting his eyes on your moving figure. Your boots made swift, definite steps across the bullpen, eyes focused solely on Hotch's door until you reached it.

"You know her?" JJ asked and, apparently, it was just a repeated question because Spencer could tell that the agents surrounding him were staring at him intently, analyzing the way his cheeks had flushed, skin paling, eyes widening at just the mere appearance of the woman that was now entering the Unit Chief's office.

Spencer tried to think of what to say. 'You know her?'

Did he?

Did he know you? Or had he known you? The two were very different. He had known you before. before those promises set in stone by pinkies were broken and before he had outgrown that necklace you had given him all those years ago. He had known you when you had told him your 'happy place' was the beach and when Spencer had very expertly questioned how that could possibly be as you had never even been to a beach before, you had glared at him until he took it back.

And you had known him. You had known him when he was forced to ride on your bike's handlebars whenever he wanted to go the library (Your bike had a basket that he could fit all of his books on and his did not). You knew him when he broke that snow globe in the cornerstone that one holiday season, how his face had morphed into one of horror at the idea of getting into trouble. You knew how you had taken the fault for that incident, hating how the boy's hands had started shaking when the storeowner had asked who had done it.

You had known each other, sure. but did he know you?

His eyes watched your hand go out to shake Hotch's, the smile on your lips enough to make him want to faint, the mere weight of his memories pulling at his brain.

"Kid? Kid, you really don't look good." Morgan was expressing his concerns and Spencer had half a mind to tell him that the reason he might not look so good was because he was, in fact, not good. He was not good because this was one of the few times in his life that his past caught up to the present. When he was forced to relive those memories from so long ago, from a time that he tried to keep very, very separate from the now. A time that he had all but run from, packing his belongings in that teeny-tiny duffel bag (you had helped him pick it out, he realized with a frown) and boarded that bus to Cal-Tech.

"I'm-" Fine? Spencer didn't have a clue what he would say, which, he would suppose would be a first, but the embarrassment that would have caused was halted because the Unit Chief's door was opening and Aaron Hotchner was extending a hand to you, as if showing you off and the team was standing, like a crowd waiting to see the newest performer.

And there you were, your front finally facing him. Your eyes were that same, chocolate-y brown color that he could feel himself getting lost in. They held that same sharpness, that fierceness in your eyes that Spencer had seen directed always at those who tried to mess him and never at he, himself. A fierceness that had hardly needed the support of your quick tongue and curled fists but received it anyways. A watch on your wrist glinted, the leather worn and sun-soaked. Even from where he sat, his vision minority blocked from Derek's muscular body standing in the way, Spencer could see the familiar material, the government-issued time-piece recognized by the team of agents immediately.

Had you served time in the military? Spencer would've guessed so, if not for the go-bag in your hand displaying the military insignia, but the way your shoulders were poised back, pin straight and at attention. Or the way your eyes swept the floor, checking doors, windows, standard procedure. Where had you been? Spencer asked himself. What had you seen? What had you done? Without him, he tacked on as an afterthought, because maybe if he had kept on top of the friendship, stoked those withering flames of your relationship, things might've turned out differently. He wouldn't be sinking into his chair as Hotch pointed out to the floor, introducing each member.

"...And you can meet everybody. Everybody, this is Y/N L/N. Y/n, this is Jennifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Penelope Garcia, and Spencer Reid."

And just like that, the fierceness was gone. The rigidity, the stoic-like confidence, the intimidating stance, and Spencer could just about see the girl who had cut her hair with those kitchen scissors, the shock on your face and locks on the floor.  It was all gone and your eyes were searching the crowd of agents just introduced to you and when they landed on the one you had been searching for, that lanky figure that looked so much like the one you had thought you would never see again, your lips parted in shock.

"Spencer?"

[thefallenchildofthestars]

the perks of being a wallflower

i haven’t read the book yet and i do plan on it, i swear. BUT the movie comes off netflix today so i needed to watch it. my room doesn’t have a DVD player or i wouldn’t have bothered but it’s laright. 

i love charles, he’s really relatable. not super enjoying the social settings, doesn’t participate in class, doesn’t have any friends. perfect. i like patrick too, he’s the popular OH SAM SAM SAM yes there is sam. the samantha. the trio of friends who you would die to have. 

lmao i wish our high school football team was half as decent as theirs, maybe the games would be tolerable. 

slut and the falcon. living room routine.

god i wish i could do high school over again. i wouldn’t talk to anyone i wouldn’t look at anyone i wouldn’t meet anyone i wouldn’t do anything other than my schoolwork. no dating, no friends, just my family. 

i like the dynamic of him and his sister, it reminds me a lot of aubrey and i. 

oh the cliche’s i live for it. come on eileen is a good song too. but standing against the cement wall drinking shitty punch watching complete chaos unfold. 

and the cast of this movie!!! it’s to absolutely die for!!! i mean emma watson, obviously, speaks for itself. paul rudd as the fantastic english teacher support character. logan lerman? icon. erza miller is a really good actor. 

i would love to do weed brownies in someone’s random basement and talk to random girls about giving marching band letterman shit and how its not a sport and how its pointless to give it to them. 

“are you baked?” “like a cake” 

oh im gonna cry at this movie what the hell. i wanna feel noticed and welcomed. 

here we go the iconic scene, where its emma watson in the tunnel on the bed of the truck. where charle falls in love with sam for real this time, where it’s practically a visual tutorial of how to feel weightless and infinite.

i think that if i do end up switching schools (which will be kind of sad because then i don’t get to go to the cadaver lab) i will live my little indie movie fantasy. 

the rocky horror picture show!!! oh it makes me so happyyy. i want a group of friends like this oh my gosh. 

we accept the love we think we deserve.

okay season change, we are drifting into the christmas season. i wish that someone would study for the SAT’s with me,

below average!!!

i love the aggression towards mary elizabeth.

oh the stupid record for sam. and when charlie first puts on the suit!!! i think that is brendon urie on the wall but like i don’t think it fits the vibe. OH MY GOSH SHE GOT HIM A TYPEWRITER. IM GONNA CRYYYYYYYY.

write about us. i will. 

i just want to make sure that the first person who kisses you loves you. 

i love you charlie. i love you too.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. god this movie fills me up with stupid warm hope about life and love and oh my goddd.

the way that his brother and him talks about his mental health is so important. because im the only one who yk has gotten checked into a hospital (twice, thank you very much). who knows what’s going to happen next and im so sick and tired of not living my life but i also can’t live my life the way i want to while im at east because o people and that’s okay its not their fault, it’s mine really. but it would also be my fault if i never tried to give myself better. try to give myself tunnels and weed brownies and mixtapes and secret santas. 

oh the record. oh the record. 

i’m gonna have to sit down and watch the rocky horror picture show to get full context of the references to the movie but i’ve been meaning to watch it anyways. 

sometimes i forget its set in the 90s. the outfits, the language, the everything. oh god mary elizabeth i forgot she liked him since the beginning of the movie and it’s lame because charlie loves sam. oh just mary elizabeth flirting with charlie is bad. like i just never see them together and them making out is weird and OH IT SWITCHES TO SAM. woah boyfriend? 

i like that he still writes letters to his friend. it’s important to me. she really just bullies him for the things that he likes. and he just like wont break up with her.

OH OH OH YOU KNOW PATRICK he reminds me of conan gray!!! and maybe that’s why i like him so much oh my god. 

WOAH CHARLIE REALLY KISSED SAM INSTEAD OF MARY ELIZABETH bruhhh. like he really should have just dumped her like a week or two later. 

im worried about charlie now, because he’s getting worse again and mary elizabeth isn’t helping. and patrick got caught and now everything is going to shit and holy crap everything is rushing back and everything hurts

hearing the story about patricks breakup with his boyfried and then he kissed charlie and he was so okay abuot it because he knew that he was hurting and he just wanted him to be okay. and then everyone started getting accepted into college.

charlie is getting worse and the blackouts are getting worse and im worried that he is going to attempt and its the last day of his freshman year and i don’t want him to.

this gives very unrealisitc ideas about high school and it makes me very upset. but it’s okay. sam is still with her jackass of a boyfriend. OFC HE WAS CHEATING ON HER FUCK. 

nothing hates u.

charlie kissing sam and calling her beautiful and it makes me so happy that he kissed her. i hate that she is crying when she kisses him goodbye and i hate that she has to say goodbye and now he’s going to be alone again because all of his friends are gone. and i cant breathe and hes in the hospital.

this movie broke me. 

we are infinite.

[marvelloussynergy]

COMIC BOOK REFERENCES & EASTER EGGS - Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021)

The following is a comprehensive guide to all the comic book references and Easter eggs I’ve spotted in Spider-Man: No Way Home along with any deviations from the source material. Note that owing to the convoluted and complex nature of comic books, I’ve tried to include only the most essential information regarding a character’s history and backstories. Additionally, references to past Spidey films haven’t been included (otherwise this article would be really long).

Peter Parker having Doctor Strange cast a spell to make everyone forget that he’s Spider-Man is a plotline inspired by the “One More Day” and “One Moment in Time” storylines. The four-issue “One More Day” arc was told across The Amazing Spider-Man #544 (2007), Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #24 (2007), The Sensational Spider-Man #41 (2007), and The Amazing Spider-Man #545 (2007). Aunt May has been shot and is in a coma, a repercussion of Peter having publicly revealed that he’s Spider-Man. In an effort to save her life, Peter makes a deal with Mephisto. Mephisto agrees to help, but in exchange Peter has to give up his marriage to Mary Jane. The demon also makes it so that everyone forgets Peter is Spider-Man.

“One Moment in Time” (The Amazing Spider-Man #638-641, 2010) then explores the ramifications of this, and the reason as to why Peter and MJ don’t get married. At the end of The Amazing Spider-Man #640, Peter asks Doctor Strange to make it so that the world forgets that he’s Spider-Man so as to keep his loved ones safe. After conferring with Tony Stark and Reed Richards, who agree to help Strange with the task, in The Amazing Spider-Man #641, Doctor Strange starts to perform the spell. However, before it’s complete, Peter brings MJ into the protective cell with him, making it so that they both remember his identity as Spider-Man.

Peter disrupting one of Doctor Strange’s spells has a precedent in the source material. In The Amazing Spider-Man #58 (2003), Spider-Man accidentally gets too close to Strange while the sorcerer is performing a spell against Dormammu, causing Spidey and Strange to be unintentionally transported to the void.

One of the Department of Damage Control agents that interrogate Peter is P Cleary. This could be a reference to Albert Cleary, who in the comics is the Damage Control comptroller.

Peter’s lawyer in the film is Matt Murdock. In the comics, Matt Murdock is the alter ego of the superhero Daredevil. In his youth, Matt saved a blind man from being hit by a truck, only to be blinded by some radioactive material falling from the vehicle. This also resulted in his remaining senses becoming heightened and the development of a “radar sense.” Of note, the character is played by Charlie Cox, who reprises the role from the Marvel-Netflix series Daredevil (2015-18).

It’s revealed that MJ’s full name in the MCU is Michelle Jones-Watson, a change from the source material in which the character’s full name is Mary Jane Watson.

Reporting on Peter’s return to school, Betty Brant says, “Go get ‘em, tiger,” a phrase MJ has been known to say in the comics.

The comic book version of Otto Octavius/Doctor Octopus is a scientist who possesses four long mechanical arms. Otto created the appendages to enable him to handle radioactive material from a distance. After being bombarded with radiation in a laboratory accident, he found he could mentally control these tentacles. The pincers at the end of each tentacle have incredible grip force and Otto can use the tentacles to lift and throw heavy objects. Doctor Octopus made his first appearance in The Amazing Spider-Man #3 (1963), which is alluded to in the film with the number plate to the MIT assistant vice chancellor’s car being “63A5M-3.” The iteration of the character that’s transported into the MCU is from Earth-96283 and first appeared in Spider-Man 2.

One of the cars Doctor Octopus throws at Spidey bears the number plate “ASM-8183.” This may be referring to The Amazing Spider-Man #183 (with a cover date of August 1978) in which Peter, who is about to graduate from college, contemplates his future.

In the comics, Norman Osborn became the Green Goblin after a strength-enhancing formula he creates explodes in his face. This increased his strength, speed, and intelligence, but had the side effect of making him insane. As the Green Goblin, he flies around on a Goblin-glider and use, among other weapons, pumpkin bombs and razor bats. The incarnation of the Green Goblin seen in No Way Home hails from Earth-96283 and made his first appearance in the 2002 film Spider-Man. After destroying his helmet, Norman Osborn wears a purple hoodie over his green armour, a combination that hints at the Green Goblin’s classic comic book costume.

The shot of Norman Osborn walking away from his broken Green Goblin mask is a mirrored version of Peter walking away from his discarded Spider-Man suit in Spider-Man 2. The latter was a recreation of a panel from The Amazing Spider-Man #50 (1967).

Norman Osborn being cured of his Goblin persona by Spider-Man is something that has happened in the comic books. In The Superior Spider-Man #31 (2014), Norman’s Goblin serum is neutralised thanks to a cure created by Otto Octavius when he was in control of Peter Parker’s body.

The comic book incarnation of Curt Connors is a biologist who researched reptiles in an attempt to replicate their ability to regrow limbs, aiming to regrow his amputated right arm. He successfully created a serum that regrows his missing limb, but has the side effect of transforming him into the Lizard. The Lizard seen in the film originates from Earth-120703 and made his debut in The Amazing Spider-Man.

In both media, Flint Marko’s/Sandman’s body has been turned into sand. He can shape parts of his anatomy into weapons and increase his size by drawing in sand grains from other sources. The comic book incarnation of the character gained this ability after being caught in a nuclear explosion, having hid on a beach where nuclear tests are conducted after escaping from prison. The Sandman variant in No Way Home came from Earth-96283 and made his first appearance in Spider-Man 3.

In the comics, Max Dillon/Electro was a linesman who gained the ability to generate and manipulate electricity after being struck by lightning whilst holding onto a power line. In No Way Home, Spider-Man faces off against the Earth-120703 Electro who initially appeared in The Amazing Spider-Man 2. While he initially appears with blue skin (which is how the character appears in the Ultimate Universe), he soon after takes on his regular human appearance. While the Electro from Earth-120703 is African American, his Earth-616 counterpart is a white American. After obtaining an arc reactor as an energy source, we see a jagged star shape over Electro’s face every time he powers up. This is a reference to the yellow lightning bolt-shaped mask the Earth-616 Electro wears.

As per the source material, the MCU incarnation of Aunt May works for F.E.A.S.T. (Food, Emergency Aid, Shelter, and Training). The organisation made its first appearance in The Amazing Spider-Man #546 (2008).

We finally hear the iconic “With great power there must also come great responsibility” line uttered in the MCU, with Aunt May imparting the words of wisdom to Peter. In the comics, the line is attributed to Uncle Ben and initially appeared in the final panel of the “Spider-Man!” story in Amazing Fantasy #15 (1962).

While the Earth-616 incarnation of Aunt May has yet to die, her apparent death was most notably the subject of The Amazing Spider-Man #400 (1995). However, it would be revealed in Spider-Man #97 (1998) that May was alive and in The Spectacular Spider-Man #263 (1998) the Green Goblin tells Peter that the woman who passed away was actually an actress genetically altered to appear like May Parker. Additionally, in No Way Home May’s grave contains the epitaph, “When you help someone, you help everyone.” The same quote adorns May’s headstone in the 2018 Spider-Man video game.

The gathering of multiple Spider-Men from different realities brings to mind the “Spider-Verse” story (The Amazing Spider-Man #9-15, 2014-15), which sees many alternate versions of Spider-Man come together to defeat Morlun and his family, the Inheritors. Though they aren’t seen, in Spider-Verse #2 (2015)—which ties into the “Spider-Verse” story—it’s implied that Tobey Maguire’s Spider-Man and Andrew Garfield’s Spider-Man participated in the event.

Ned Leeds promising to not turn on Peter in the film is interesting given that his comic book counterpart unwittingly became the Hobgoblin, a member of Spider-Man’s rogues gallery. Ned was brainwashed by Roderick Kingsley, the original Hobgoblin, into taking on the mantle.

The Spider-Man from Earth-96283 mentions having fought a black goo from outer space, referring to Venom (as seen in Spider-Man 3). In the comics, Venom came about as a result of an alien symbiote bonding with disgraced journalist Eddie Brock. Venom possesses super strength, has a healing factor, and can produce his own webbing. A different cinematic incarnation of Eddie Brock appears in No Way Home’s mid-credits scene (itself a continuation of the mid-credits scene from Venom: Let There Be Carnage).

One of the foes the Spider-Man from Earth-120703 mentions he has fought is the Rhino (as seen in The Amazing Spider-Man 2). In the comics, Aleksei Sytsevich’s transformation into the Rhino started when he gained super strength after being experimented on by scientists Georgi Reznikova and Igor Stanislav. They also gave him a highly durable protective suit that makes him appear like a rhinoceros.

Electro wishing there was a black Spider-Man is, of course, a nod to Miles Morales. In the source material, Miles is a half-black, half-Hispanic Spider-Man from the Ultimate Universe. He took up the Spider-Man mantle after that universe’s Peter Parker died.

When it’s revealed that more characters from other realities are looking to enter the MCU, several of the glowing silhouettes resemble characters from Spidey’s rogues gallery. These include Kraven, Rhino, and Scorpion.

At the end of the film, Peter creates a new Spider-Man suit for himself. This bright red and blue suit (which lacks Stark tech enhancements) is reminiscent of the classic Spidey suit from the comics.

Unsurprisingly, Spider-Man: No Way Home contains lots of MCU Easter eggs. Spider-Man and MJ swing through Times Square, passing several billboards for Rogers: The Musical. Arriving home after the public finds out that he’s Spider-Man, Peter changes into the “I Survived My Trip to NYC” shirt he got in Spider-Man: Homecoming. We later see him wear his “The Physics is Theoretical but the Fun is Real” shirt (also from Homecoming) when he’s being interrogated by the Department of Damage Control. New Asgard is mentioned in a news ticker during a breaking news report. A photo of Happy seen during a news report depicts him with his pre-2000 appearance (as seen in Iron Man 3). The robotic Dum-E can be seen in Happy’s apartment along with Downton Abbey DVDs (a show he likes to watch, as revealed in Iron Man 3). MJ’s sketches of Peter and Coach Wilson from Homecoming can be seen in her room. When Peter arrives at school someone in the crowd asks him to do a flip, a callback to the moment in Homecoming when Klev asked Spidey to do the same thing. Hank Pym has been added to the mural (which contains portraits of Howard Stark and Abraham Erskine) at Midtown School of Science & Technology. Dum-E breaks a Lego Death Star, a nod to Ned dropping one in Homecoming. Issues of People magazine with Liz on the cover can be spotted at a newsstand. A Captain America shield is being added to the Statue of Liberty. After emerging from the Mirror Dimension, Doctor Strange mentions that he was dangling over the Grand Canyon for twelve hours, which brings to mind Loki’s disgruntled reveal that he has been falling for thirty minutes in Thor: Ragnarok. The post-credits scene to No Way Home is the teaser trailer to Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness.

Like the Facebook page. Follow on Instagram. Get the books: Phase One | Phase Two | Phase Three Listen to the podcast: Anchor | Breaker | Google Podcasts | Spotify

[atlanticcanada]

Ontario premier to 'Freedom Convoy' protesters in Ottawa: 'Move on'

Ontario's premier is urging the demonstrators associated with the "Freedom Convoy" to leave downtown Ottawa, saying they need to let residents return to living their lives.

"People have to move on," Doug Ford told reporters in Ajax, Ont. on Tuesday morning. "I get it, I hear you, but we have to let the people of Ottawa live their lives."

The protest against COVID-19 and other public health measures is beginning to shrink, according to police, but many heavy trucks and other vehicles remain parked on Wellington Street and around other parts of downtown.

But Ford said the protesters have been heard and they need to allow local businesses who have been forced to close due to the demonstrations to reopen.

"There's a million people that live in Ottawa," he said. "I hear you. I hear the protesters, the province hears the protesters, the country hears the protesters.

"Now it’s time to let the people in Ottawa get back to their lives. These businesses that have been closed for a while now, the restaurants want to reopen."

Many downtown city services remain closed because of the ongoing demonstration, including Ottawa City Hall and its underground parking garage, the Rink of Dreams, and the Ottawa Public Library's Main and Rideau branches and the COVID-19 vaccination clinic at the Minto Sports Complex at the University of Ottawa.

The city also says St. Luke’s Child Care Centre and Centre éducatif Pinocchio will remain closed; however, the Ottawa-Carleton District School Board says Centennial Public School, which was closed on Monday due to the protest, will be open Tuesday.

The Rideau Centre also remains closed, marking a third full day of closures for the busy downtown shopping mall.

The city is warning of ongoing traffic impacts in the downtown core, but says services such as garbage collection and snow removal should not be affected.

As demonstrations continue, traffic and transit impacts remain significant in downtown #Ottawa and the surrounding area. Please avoid travel to this area, if possible. For more traffic updates visit our online interactive traffic map: https://t.co/yQy1eYQxCC pic.twitter.com/SOnMYZxZgZ

— City of Ottawa (@ottawacity) January 31, 2022

Traffic on bridges between Ottawa and Gatineau has been snarled because of the protest. But health care workers trying to cross into Ottawa from the Quebec side should use the Chaudière Bridge, CHEO CEO Alex Munter said Tuesday. Police will let them through if the show their ID badges.

Ottawa police chief Peter Sloly says several demonstrators who were in the city over the weekend have left.

"The situation of the demonstration has scaled down over the last 12 hours," Sloly said at a news conference Monday afternoon. "We want that trend to continue until this demonstration comes to a complete end. I cannot guarantee you that right now but I can guarantee that every effort at negotiation, coordination, de-escalation, has continued throughout the last four days and will continue until the complete end of this demonstration."

Sloly says "all options are on the table" when it comes to ending the demonstration and returning the city to a sense of normalcy. He also warned anyone engaging in criminal activity that they will be prosecuted, even if it isn't immediately.

“No matter where you live, no matter where your vehicle’s registered, if you’ve come here and committed a crime, if you have committed a hate crime, you will be investigated,” Sloly said. “We will look for you, we will charge you, if necessary we will arrest you, and we will pursue prosecutions against you."

The Ottawa Police Service says it will be setting up a dedicated hotline to report any criminal activity related to the demonstration. So far, 12 active investigations are underway into various allegations, including bribery, threats, assault and dangerous driving.

Ottawa Mayor Jim Watson said on CTV’s Your Morning Tuesday that the trucker protest is “something that we’ve never seen before,” and reiterated that official are making every effort to end the demonstration peacefully.

“Police are doing what they can to make the situation the best they can, a lot of people are frustrated and just want the trucks towed away,” he said. “The bottom line is the last thing you want to do is, when you see a fire, is pour gasoline.”

Shepherds of Good Hope 'overwhelmed' by donations

An Ottawa homeless shelter received more than 10,000 donations after some protesters harassed staff and volunteers there over the weekend.

The Shepherds of Good Hope put out a statement saying they were "overwhelmed" by the attention and support, and received so many food donations that they have reached their storage capacity and can't accept any more.

Officials from the shelter said protesters from the "Freedom Convoy" harassed staff and volunteers Saturday, demanding food from their soup kitchen, and one shelter client was allegedly assaulted.

"Every message of support has meant the world to us and seen our team through a few difficult days," the statement said, adding that it needs to tally up the donations and they will announce an amount raised later this week.

"The incidents this weekend were unfortunate, but have allowed us to share the work we do with all of you."

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/c68uKvzHg

[hagleyvault]

What’s old is new again this #ThrowbackThursday. This circa 1925 grocery delivery truck was built for the M. Dominick grocery store in Wilmington, Delaware by James Watson & Sons, also called the Riverview Wagon Works.

Riverview Wagon Works was a Wilmington, Delaware, company that started as a wagon-builder and restorer. After 1920, the company began customizing truck bodies, special vehicles (bookmobiles, paddy wagons, etc.), buses, and touring trailers.

Many of the hundreds of photographs and negatives in the Hagley Library’s James Watson & Sons Co. photograph collection (Accession 1992.213) show samples of the company's work on wagons, including noteworthy examples of local Wilmington, Delaware dairy farm wagons and trucks. There are also pictures of delivery vehicles, buses and school buses, ambulances, police and rescue squads, Delaware bookmobiles, moving and hauling trucks, commercial trucks, horse trucks, trailers, and other kinds of vehicles. The collection also includes photographs of the company's workers and factory, as well as group photographs and family photographs.

To view a selection of images from this collection, click here to visit its page in our Digital Archive.

[klienerp]

(I'm good. Just tired from all the studying. *evil laughter* so Major will protect his daughter even though he doesn't know how to be a dad)

Sy walked inside the dog shelter, wandering towards the front desk where Alex was standing.

"So you got my text," Alex looked behind the captain, "Where's your nurse?"

"She's back at the cabin, got a new nurse while the old nurse is healing from her injury. Now, where's my pup?"

A woman walked out with Bandit in a leash, and as soon as the puppy saw Sy, he started tugging at the leash and barking in his high pitched voice. The woman released the eager puppy, who ran directly into Sy's arms and licked Sy's entire face.

"Just sign here and he's your problem from now on," Alex chuckled. Sy put his John Hancock on the paper, thanked the staff and walked out to his sister Lily waiting for him. Bandit sat still and was looking around the truck the entire way home.

Sy released the pup inside. Nurse Watson was furious at him for leaving without telling her. She was yelling, but stopped when she saw the pup.

"Is that a dog?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Whose?"

"Mine."

"But I'm allergic," she whined.

"Your problem, not mine."

Sy went to sit on the sofa, he fluffed up a pillow and put it on the coffee table and his foot on top. He smiled and was laughing inside as nurse Watson started sneezing like crazy.

- Cap Sy

(Hi I’m so tipsy. Baby school comes first. As for the major. It’s his way of being a dad I guess, but funny he’d give Sy his blessing)

After spending the afternoon in her bedroom, Vi finally stepped outside, surprised to see the adorable puppy playing with the captain. A part of her wanted to fool around with the puppy, the other wanted to completely ignore Sy. She choose the latter. 

Though the puppy had other plans.