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1234-angelika · 3 years

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Off the Clock

an:this is the first part of my Happily Ever After series for Derek. I'm exicted to share this with you guys. I hope y'all like it.

words:1.3k

warnings:implied sexual harrassment (nothing descriptive), sexism, language

summary:"I like to use the hard times in the past to motivate me today." -Dwayne Johnson

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

Throughout high school, you worked at the bowling alley down the road from your house. You made a lot of memories there with your friends and even had your first heartbreak there. After graduation, you made the decision to work for another year before heading off to university. You applied to universities all over the place but had your heart set on one, the University of Texas at Knoxville. After doing research, you decided on that one. With your hard work, you managed to save up enough to make through for a while, and when they offered you a scholarship, you were ecstatic. After four years of hard work for your Bachelor's degree in Kinesiology, you graduated with honours and then, you were done. For a while, at least.

After getting your Bachelor's degree, you decided that you wanted to study kinesiology more in-depth and go in for your Master's degree. For that, you headed to James Maddison University in Harrisburg, Virginia. You took two years to complete your Master's degree even while you worked part-time to save up some money. Once you obtained your Master's degree, you got certified as a personal trainer by the International Sports Sciences Association.

Months later, looking for work with no luck, you found yourself hired by the FBI Academy to train the new recruits at Quantico. When you had started, only one other female trainer was working there. Her name was Catherine. The first thing she had said when she saw you, bright-eyed and excited to be there, was;

"Watch out for Derek Morgan. He's a ladies man, constantly flirts with all the women—" she paused and looked at you pointedly. "—don't let yourself fall for him."

And then she walked away. The two of you were fast friends and often bonded over the sexist recruits set on joining the FBI.

In the years you worked at the FBI, you had met many wonderful agents and some not-so. You made friends with some of the agents who came into the gym at lunch or after work. Often chatting as you worked out alongside each other. You always heard the women talking about the mysterious Derek Morgan, the same one mentioned to you on your first day. Somehow, you were never at the gym when he came in. So you were just left with the stories you heard.

The women over the years changed; very few stayed but somehow, they were always talking about Derek. About how he flirted teasingly with them, and they were falling in love or how they wished that he would go out with them. As time went on, though, the stories of Derek Morgan slowed to a stop, like a stream gradually drying up. It changed into gossip. About how he had a girlfriend, and then it became how he had gotten married over the summer and all of a sudden, it was Derek' ladies man' Morgan had become a dad. And yet, you were still wondering who exactly this Derek Morgan is.

Over the last couple of months, you had one recruit become increasingly annoying and flirtatious. After multiple times of being asked to stop, you found out she had been harassing other female agents as well. End of day Friday, you had taken your recommendation that she be removed from the academy to your boss. They said that they would take your findings into consideration and dismissed you. You left work that night feeling tired and annoyed. Those feelings only increased over the weekend after getting calls from a few college friends informing you of their pending nuptials. You weren't disappointed in your life; in fact, you were pretty proud of how well you did and the job you had now, but, most nights, you wished you had someone to share that with. The feelings from the week only aggravated those emotions. Dating was hard, most men were intimidated by you or your job, and your lack of experience in the dating world didn't help so, you put it on pause.

Monday morning rolled around, and you decided to try and put the past week behind you. You got ready for the day and then headed to your favourite café. Starting your day with an iced matcha latte was your favourite thing to do, but often, you were too busy to do that. After, you headed to work blasting your jams in the car and singing along, determined to start the day off on a good note. After all, Monday sets the tone for the rest of the week. You greeted colleagues in the halls with a smile on your way to the gym. Upon arrival, you got your paperwork ready and in order for the recruit training.

The day passed slowly, and then it was the end of your day. Instead of going home, like usual, you made the decision to stay at the gym off the clock and try and channel some frustration and pain from the past week into exercise. You pulled out a new training set you were going to use on the recruit's next session and slowly got started on it. First was the mile and a half run as a warm-up. Then you moved on to tricep dips, a minute plank and a set of chest presses. Then you moved onto the pushups and one minute of sit-ups. Lastly was the 300-meter sprint. Jotting down some notes, you moved on to your regular routine.

The clanging of weights filled your ears as the last of the agents in the gym continued their workouts. Instead of annoying, it became motivating, and the sound itself became satisfying because it signified the completion of a set. You pushed yourself to keep going, desperately wanting those gains. Music blared in your headphones as you continued your workout. Continuing the cycle of activity, you wandered from the mats to the weights.

A gorgeous man—who looked like he was sculpted by the gods—was also by the weight rack. Your mind started to drift, and you shook your head lightly to focus. You were both training in front of the mirror, and occasionally, you let your eyes drift over to him, hoping he was too focused on what he was doing to notice. To end off your workout, you were hoping to do your usual bench press. Since you were alone, though, you didn't feel safe enough, not without a spotter. You started to clean up when an idea popped into your head. As you were cleaning up, the man had finished his set and was on his way out the door. Pausing, you jogged up to him, fully aware of how weird your behaviour could be interpreted.

"Wait up!" You said when you were just a few steps behind him.

He turned around with confusion on his face, looking around for the person who had called out. And then his eyes landed on you. He checked you out, not so subtly, and a smirk made its way onto his face.

"Hey, I'm Derek Morgan. What's your name gorgeous?"

You rolled your eyes in humour and then answered him.

"Thanks handsome. My name's Y/N. Look, I know that you were heading out but, do you think you could spare a couple minutes and spot me so I can press?"

The smirk that was on his face was replaced by a friendly, dazzling smile. "No problem Y/N."

Just the way he said your name did something to you. At that moment, you realized precisely what Catherine had warned you about. The dazzling Derek Morgan.

#criminal minds #derek morgan x reader #morgan x reader #criminal minds x reader #happilyeverafter #hea

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mellometal · 3 years

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Here are the last few things I want to say about Dhar Mann. Because he's not a good person to support and I cannot believe people support him unironically.

I was misguided to an extent in my first response to him on the video he made about ASD. The whole complimenting him thing in my comments was only to ensure that my comments would not be deleted and that I wouldn't get blocked. That's why it sounded like I was sucking up to him in some parts of my comments. I actually WANT people to see them. I would hope at least SOMEONE would resonate with them in some way. I want people to see how videos about subjects he knows NOTHING about and probably will NEVER know about can and do affect people. I don't think he's a good person. At all.

Dhar Mann's videos reek of wannabe superiority. There are some things that people have brought up about him having a savior complex on Reddit, but I don't want to go into the entire psychological aspect of him...if such a thing exists. I may find psychology interesting, but he's not worth going into a whole psychological analysis over. I'm not licensed to do any kind of diagnoses on him anyway.

His morals are extremely watered down with quotes that even kids in preschool can understand. It honestly feels like he's talking down to his audience. (Why does he have an audience? The world may never know.) Dude, NOBODY appreciates being talked down to like they're stupid.

While sometimes, it's obvious that he's trying to come from a good place, it still doesn't change the fact that he doesn't go into WHY the events that happen in the videos are bad, what we can do to change it, nothing. I don't recall him putting down any reputable resources for anything he makes. If he has, it must be like finding Atlantis. For example, in his videos that are supposed to be tackling homelessness, he only goes into the whole narrative that we gotta be nice to homeless people. He never goes into the factors that cause homelessness. He never goes into any statistics. He doesn't share any reputable resources for the homeless population. Just goes into, "Be kind to homeless people!" and nothing else.

Another big example would have to be the videos he has made about disabilities. He seemed to KINDA tackle physical disabilities, but here's the thing. Physically disabled people aren't all helpless victims. Yes, some physically disabled people do require full support doing things. There are other physically disabled people who require moderate support, or even minimal support. Treating physically disabled people like they're just all helpless victims who you should feel bad for isn't helping them at all. They're not subhuman. They're human beings.

The video he made about Autism Spectrum Disorder is personally insulting. Treating ASD like it's a superpower harms autistic people and it honestly sounds like autistic people aren't being taken seriously. Calling ASD a "different ability" instead of calling it a disability (which is what ASD is) treats being autistic like it's a bad thing. (For anyone who found me through my first Dhar Mann post about his video on ASD, y'all already know my feelings about this. For anyone who's new here, doesn't know what's going on, and wants to know where I stand on that video in particular, please refer to that post.)

Like an anonymous person mentioned in the ask they sent earlier, Dhar Mann also made a video that was pro-cop. I knew about the video he made about a bunch of cops in training being sexist towards the only woman, which obviously ain't great either. I've seen that one and it made absolutely no sense to me. Dhar Mann, defeating sexism? *GASP!* We did it, feminists! We can go home now! Not.

Anyways, back to the pro-cop video. I didn't know that he made a video like that, so I searched for it. It was a pretty recent video too...and it's gross. The lady protesting in an alley really shouted in eight point font to "fire all cops". It took some guy stealing her purse for her to "change her mind" about cops.

The "cop" in the video really went into his whole life story about how he risks his life every day for people, fighting bad people (they even had a black man as the assailant trying to threaten a white woman, which is a disgusting racist stereotype and does nothing to help stop police brutality), and basically told this lady "Before you judge me, get to know ME!"

MOTHERFUCKER. FIREFIGHTERS, PARAMEDICS, AND THE ENTIRE MEDICAL FIELD, TO NAME A FEW, RISK THEIR LIVES EVERY DAY TOO. But you don't see a song that says "Fuck the fire department!" or "Fuck paramedics!", do you? (I have some choice words for parts of the medical field because of how some think it's okay to refuse to help people for being LGBT, not taking BIPOC seriously when they seek medical attention, refusing to help people for the religion they practice or lack thereof, the fatphobia, etc. I won't dive completely into it, but if you choose to be in the medical field and you refuse to help people for the color of their skin, their sexual orientation, their gender identity, their religious beliefs or lack thereof, their weight, or ANYTHING along those lines, FIND A DIFFERENT CAREER.)

Police brutality towards black people is the highest out of every race. Not to mention that black people are the number one target for the police. The amount of black people being killed by the police will only keep increasing unless we all do something to put an end to police brutality towards black people. Black lives matter, and they ALWAYS will.

Can we also talk about how the police aren't equipped to deal with anything related to mental health or disabilities? Because the way they handle people having mental health crises, disabled people, and mentally ill people as a whole is heartless and ableist. AND THEY HAVE THE NERVE TO PUT ON THEIR VEHICLES THAT THEY'RE SAFE FOR DISABLED PEOPLE AND SHIT IN CERTAIN PLACES IN THE UNITED STATES.

Just because there are good cops, it doesn't make ALL cops good. It doesn't change the fact that ACAB. It doesn't change the fact that the police has way too much funding. It doesn't change the fact that the police need to be reformed. Honestly, in this day and age, there are way too many corrupt cops who want to be all superior and treat people like they're subhuman to see any good cops among them.

I did a little research on Dhar Mann's history before he decided to do all these fucking cringe videos. He was sentenced to five years of probation back in 2014 for five felony counts related to a scheme to defraud the City [Oakland, California] by submitting false claims and receipts in order to receive redevelopment grant money. He pleaded no contest to the five felony counts of fraud. Not a good look!

His voice is ear grating and crusty and he has a very punchable face. Every time I hear his voice, it triggers my fight or flight response.

HEEEEYYYY, DHAR MANN FAM! SO YOU SEE, HE MAKES ALL THESE CRINGE ASS VIDEOS WITH WATERED DOWN MORALS THAT HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THE TOPICS OF ANY OF THE VIDEOS AND REEK OF WANNABE SUPERIORITY! I hope you learned something from this message! He's not telling stories. He's not changing lives. He's a cringe ass nae-nae baby who can't bother to do actual research on topics he knows NOTHING about. He's ruining lives! Thanks for watching and I'll see you next time!

TL;DR: Dhar Mann is a piece of shit human being. Please stop supporting him.

#mello speaks #dhar mann talk #dhar mann will live to regret his decision to make these fucked up cringe videos #tw police brutality #tw murder mention #black lives matter and will always matter #all cops are bastards #tw racial violence mention #please stop supporting dhar mann #dhar mann #dhar mann is a piece of human garbage #tw dhar mann

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miairviin · 4 years

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Kunst

If I only had one word to describe Vienna it would be polished. As soon as we stepped off of the plane and sought out the train that would take us to the hostel this was evident. The train smelled like a new house and the chairs were cushioned. The metro station was spotless, except for a few pieces of graffiti that covered the wall. At night, Vienna was very quiet. Our very first night, by the time Madeline and I made it to the hostel it was 11 pm. In Greece and every other country I have visited so far, the streets would be alive with movement. The restaurants would be full of people still eating. In Vienna, however, this was not the case. All the restaurants were empty, the employees sweeping the front steps and stacking chairs on tables. Luckily, we were able to find a pizza place that was just about to close. We capitalized on this, and because they were closing, high tailed it back to the hostel where we feasted like Queens on the last slices of pizza in all of Vienna.

We had an 8 am wake up call, but not necessarily because of a tour or train to catch. Simply to guarantee we would make it to the free breakfast provided by the hostel. We ate as much as we could and put together a couple sandwiches together to go. We were going to milk this breakfast for every penny. Our first day in Vienna was truly one of wandering. It was so liberating to have absolutely nowhere to be and everywhere to go. Vienna continued its pattern from the previous night, absolutely everything in perfect order. I was amazed with the clean streets and the perfectly constructed buildings. We hit the Volksgarden which was a garden complete with statues, a pond where a duck was taking in the morning sun, and unfortunately lines of small trees with brown bags tied over them. The next place we found was the Hoffburg Palace complete with a historical figure who’s name I do not know riding his majestic steed.

Next, we went to the Museumquartier, jokingly following a little girl on a scooter. Our philosophy there being that you should always trust a local on a scooter. And good thing we did, because it brought us to Museum Leopold which we had seen a brochure for in our hostel. Both Madeline and I were familiar and curious about the work of Gustav Klimt, and some of his pieces would be there. We decided to head in. Art museums are always interesting to me. I love looking at the work and reading about the different colors used and the themes the artist is trying to address. But the Museum Leopold offered so much more. They presented an in-depth biography about the artists work at the beginning of their kunst, (art) and once you were in their exhibit, some of the pieces came with a short blurb about the social ramifications the piece might have stirred up, the artists inspiration, and the story the painting was telling. It felt so much different than other museums I had visited. It felt like I was staring back in time. It was easier to picture a distraught Richard Gerstl brushing madly against a canvas when you found out his muse was the wife of his best friend, and the two carried on an affair for some time. When you knew Gustav Klimt's last words were “send for Emilie” it made his work even more beautiful, more complicated. The museum also presented art like interior design, and discussed why one architect faced public outrage when he made cafes a more open concept, appealing to the lower and middle class. Or how posters revolutionized the streets, turning them into an art gallery for the poor man. Museum Leopold left me with so much to think about. Art is truly a revolution.

After the museum, we snacked on our lunch as we walked to the next stop, Belvedere Palace. The next stop was decorated with so many spots along the way. This included one of many parks we meandered through, Beethovenplatz, a butterfly house, and many beautiful buildings. That was the thing, it never felt like I was on the way to something. Everything was a view. Everything was kunst.

Vienna came alive during the day. The part of the city we were in definitely determined the age group that dominated the sidewalks. The older, more European looking Vienna with tall buildings decorated with statues and columns separated by open streets seemed to have an older population. Conversely, the younger people seemed to occupy the contemporary looking office spaces and more city-esque streets.

The Belvedere Palace was nothing short of extravagant. The gardens were kept symmetrical and spotless, the gravel walk looked freshly swept despite the many tourists walking along it. Uniformly groomed trees lined the gravel leading up to the palace. A few empty fountains stood in between us and the palace, their porcelain statues looking only a tad out of place without water showering down upon them. The palace was so wide, so magnificent. It was hard not to think of the grandeur of days past. When people would walk through the grounds just to take the air in. I wondered if they thought one day people would travel far and wide to marvel at their home.

We turned back and headed for the St. Stephen’s Cathedral. The wind and cold chased us into a small cafe so we could stop for a moment to warm up, and from there it was right back outside and towards the cathedral. Much like Florence and the Duomo, you turned down a normal street with a souvenir shop on one side and a bar on the other and there it stood. It was tall, it was ornate, it was holy. We walked around it, trying to take it all in. It was impossible. Because the city had truly grown up around it, there wasn’t much room to wander so our next stop was simply to head in. The inside was just as awe-inspiring. The architecture was exceptionally detailed, portraits of people like Mother Theresa on the walls. There was a quiet reverence amongst all of the tourists as we walked in the specifically designated areas. I’m sure the cathedral would look beautiful in the daytime with sunlight pouring in. But seeing it at dusk gave it a gothic charm I was grateful to witness.

We left the St. Stephens Cathedral and sought out a bathroom. An employee of a souvenir shop informed us the closest bathroom was just a minute away in the metro. When we made it down the escalator, my bladder definitely dancing the delicate line of being too full for comfort, we were faced with a coin machine. Paying for the bathroom was not something new. We had run into this problem in Italy a few times. In part protest of this capitalistic concept and in part because I’m cheap, Madeline and I had taken a stand and decided to refuse these set ups. We would hold it. But not only was this classist, we noticed it was .50 for a women and .20 for a man! It was sexism! We couldn’t believe it. Since we are both angsty feminists, this was a topic of discussion (mainly jokes) that carried on for a little while.

After the bathroom fiasco, we made our way through the maze of a mall that surrounded the cathedral. Stores like Louis Vuitton were the general theme, and we joked about trying to head in and getting stopped by the door man. “You girls work on commission right? Big mistake. Huge.” We would use these lines if we ever came back. We saw the parliament building where stoic statues sat pondering the great issues of our time as they looked out over Vienna. The air was perfumed with the scent of cigarettes and horse, as a few horse drawn carriages were carrying some tourists who probably shopped at Louis Vuitton.

We decided it was time for dinner and set out to find the cheapest schnitzel we could. Ultimately it was a quiet spot down an alley near our hostel. We ate our schnitzel the German way: with ketchup mixed with mayonnaise and beer. It was fantastic. Unfortunately, nothing has touched the jaegerschnitzel I had that first night in Berlin, but it was a formidable competitor.

However our night was not finished yet. We wanted to hit Sigmund Freud park, just to say we did. It was a short walk, marked by only a few signs. There was a small piece of art, benches, grass, and it seemed to be the place to be if you were an Austrian teen on a Friday night. One thing we picked up on is how proud Austria is of their alumni. Beethoven, Motzart, Klimt, and Freud all have squares, streets, parks, and cafes all named after them.

We picked up a few small dessert pastries and headed back for the hostel. I meant to write this post as well as pen a journal entry but the 13 miles we had ended up walking day snuck up on me, and exhaustion creeped in. Plus, we had an early wake up for the bus ride to Budapest, where I am writing this from. Vienna, as Billy Joel promises, will be waiting for me when we return on Monday.

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ussthunderquack · 5 years

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Roaring Twenties Mafia AU

Maximoff Twins: Russian orphan immigrants, hired by the Hydra Gang as the youngest hitman and hitwoman in America. Wanda dresses in ruby flapper gear.

After Pietro is gunned down in a gang fight, Wanda ends up in a mental institution. She is “rescued” by....

Hawkeye: Low-level mob sniper, who turned to crime to support his family. His wife Laura turns a blind eye to her husband’s dark work, but it’s eating away at her day by day.

Steve Rogers: Like many WWI vets, he couldn’t find legitimate work, and turned to crime. At first wanting to protect the innocent, he started a vigilante gang, consisting of himself, Bucky, Hawkeye, Sam and Wanda. However, Steve’s ideas of “heroism” were often extreme, and self-centered. His old flame Peggy Carter distances herself from him and marries someone else. Steve has a brief affair with her underage niece Sharon, before admitting he’s in love with Bucky.

Sam Wilson: Ex-Airforce pilot from WWI, Sam went to crime for the same reason as Hawkeye. Sam wants to keep crime and danger to a minimum for the most part, but feels lucky enough to have any place to stay and work that he can never ultimately stand up to Steve.

Bucky Barnes: Shell-shocked vet and childhood friend of Steve Rogers, he is one of New York’s most vicious hitmen for years, before Steve finds and recruits him for his gang. After Steve’s radical antics make things worse though, Bucky jumps ship to the Black Panther gang, and takes the new hitman name White Wolf. And yes, he killed Tony’s parents, and in this ‘verse he might actually have been partially in control of himself when he did it. Things are gonna get ugly.

Tony Stark: Rival gang leader to Steve Rogers, ruling New York City, Tony specializes in inventing and selling weapons, among other items like cars and radios. This in addition to the obvious business of booze, naturally. Once extremely reckless, he now believes in doing things the careful business way, and is continuously frustrated by Steve’s erratic “vigilante” antics (that often make things much worse).

Peter Parker: Adorkable newsie orphan, eager to help Mr. Stark with his “business,” without knowing its full dark extent

Jarvis: Tony’s butler, who gets shot and killed during a gang fight

Pepper Potts: Tony’s secretary, and later wife. Because this is the mafia, he isn’t very faithful to her.

Friday: Tony’s new secretary, and mistress Stephen Strange: Back-alley doctor, willing to patch up injured gangsters, and give birth control to women. (Note: “Birth control” does not necessarily mean abortion; in the 1920s, literal birth control was literally illegal.) After Tony and Steve’s gangs go to war, Strange declares himself uninvolved and willing to treat both sides, but clearly has a bias towards Tony. Yes, they are also screwing around.

T’Challa: Second-generation immigrant from Wakanda, he lives in a Wakandan-American neighborhood, where everyone wears Wakandan-styled 1920s outfits. After his father is killed, he takes over the Black Panther gang. He causes some controversy when he takes in Bucky Barnes, the first ever white boy to join the Black Panther gang.

Nakia: Enthusiastic dancer, feminist and Civil Rights activist, Nakia is constantly urging T’Challa to take his efforts beyond self-serving crime, and urges him to use his power and influence for more important and selfless matters

Okoye: Badass hit-woman disguised as a flapper

Shuri: Spunky flapper girl and inventor, brilliant mechanic, loyal to her big brother’s Black Panther gang. She ends up with the white newsie Peter Parker, and things get complicated from there.

Everett Ross: Low-level Prohibition Agent, who ends up getting corrupted and working as a double-agent for the Black Panther gang, feeding them info on the FBI from within

Ulysses Klaue: Weapons dealer who tries to rob both Tony Stark and Erik Killmonger. He doesn’t last long.

Erik Killmonger: T’Challa’s bitter cousin, determined to take over the Black Panther gang for himself, and make the entire crimminal underworld far more violent

Natasha Romanoff: Femme fatale flapper of the sultry Jordan Baker variety, who is secretly one of the deadliest hit-women and spies in the country. She works for...

Nick Fury: The ultimate boss of all the bosses, ruling all organized crime in America. Or trying to anyway. The black eyepatch and coat are now accompanied by a matching fedora.

Ava Starr: Enthusiastic dancer at speak-easies, she is secretly dying of an illness that she needs to buy medicine illegally for. To afford this, she works as a spy and bootlegger.

Thor: World-famous heavyweight boxing champion, who, while not a member of any gang, is “affiliated” with several, due in no small part to his love for booze and his willingness to rough people up for money. .

Loki: Thor’s sketchier adopted brother, trying to worm his way into politics using every illegal method imaginable and then some. He also has the hots for Tony Stark.

Bruce Banner: shell-shocked WWI vet who developed a split personality from his trauma. His main personality, Bruce Banner, works in a lab brewing illegal alcohol for Tony Stark’s business. His other personality, “the Hulk,” is a feared hitman and part-time boxer (often pitted against Thor)

Thaddeus Ross: Radical Prohibition Agent, who really has it in for Bruce Banner. Ultra-conservative, he embodies all the common bigotries of the ‘20s up to infinity. He despises the 19th Amendment, the flapper movement, and jazz.

Betty Ross: Thaddeus’s innocent yet surprisingly rebellious daughter. She has an affair with Bruce Banner, and continues to help him and others in illegal dealings against her psychotic father.

Peggy Carter: One of the first female lawyers in America, she helped Steve out of sticky spots years ago. But as he’s grown more extreme and violent, she’s distanced herself from him, much to his chagrin. Eventually, she wants nothing more than to put all of these other characters behind bars.

Sharon Carter: Peggy’s underage niece, who Steve has an affair with, because Mafia show.

Peter Quill: Captain of a rum-running boat, delivering illegal booze from foreign countries. He does a lot of business with Stark’s gang.

Rocket Raccoon and Groot: Classic bootleggers

Gamora: Everyone things she’s Quill’s moll, but it’s more the other way around. She is so the one in charge.

“Mantis:” Innocent, Asian immigrant, who was initially manipulated into working for the vicious crime lord Ego, but now has better work aboard Peter Quill’s rum-running ship. She is an adorable bubbly flapper, who earned the nickname “Mantis” due to her cute yet feisty nature.

Drax: Heavyweight champion turned hitman, whose wife and daughter were killed by Thanos’s gang

Jane Foster: A young woman going to college for science, and fighting sexism at every turn. She’s not really interested in the flapper culture, but is very big on suffrage and feminism. She falls in love with Thor, but dumps him after gradually learning about his involvement with crime, and deciding she can’t handle that.

Darcy Lewis: Jane’s flapper roommate, who ends up having affairs with damn near everyone, male and female.

Erik Selvig: Swedish immigrant and Jane and Darcy’s professor at college, he ends up having some dealings with the mob, and was once blackmailed into brewing booze for Loki’s business; but overall Erik has managed to keep his hands relatively clean for the most part.

Scott Lang: Bootlegger and heist expert who mostly works for the Pym/Van Dyne family speakeasy. He was briefly a part of Steve Rogers’ gang, but after landing in prison for that, decided to stick to small-time crime.

Hope Van Dyne: Businesswoman training to someday take over her parents’ speakeasy and booze trade

Carol Danvers: Female aviator and party-animal flapper, she enters the world of crime after discovering the corruption among the government she used to work for

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janurants · 5 years

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I Don’t Even Know Where To Begin...

So, like I have mentioned before, I am always a little late to the party. But, I do make it. Eventually. And then sometimes I realise it was a party not worth attending at all.

In this case, it was a party named Batman Begins (2005)

Yup, the brooding game begins.

Firstly, I understand the importance of the film. I believe that Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy was partially responsible for the spate of great superhero films and raising the standard of these films overall. However, I didn’t think this was all that it was hyped up to be. 84% on RT? Seriously?

I have seen the other two movie before and I loved The Dark Knight (2008). But that has to do more with Heath Ledger’s performance and the character of The Joker.

Mr. Roger Ebert really knew what he was talking about when he said:

“Each film is only as good as its villain.”

So, to quote a certain nun, let´s start at the very beginning. It is a very good place to start.

And we start with Kid Wayne. Really? That’s the best they could find? He literally had no emotion when his parents were gunned down? And don’t gimme that reasoning that he was a kid and all that. Take a cue from The Lion King, Nolan. Ask Hans Zimmer, he would’ve pointed you in the right direction.

Also, Batman’s “beginnings” are hilarious. I love that he goes through the whole cliche’d “hero-in-the-making” stages of the ski-masks and everything.

Also, didn’t he just come back from all that super-awesome ninja training?? Ra’s Al Ghul also mentioned somewhere that he was his best student. You really had sucky students didn’t you Mr. Al Ghul? Coz this supposed “ninja” made a heck of a lot of noise running away from Sergeant Gordon.

My favourite part of the movie is Morgan Freeman’s character, who is literally every geek’s dream. Unlimited capital, he gets to work in his very own man-cave and doesn’t even need to pretend to be anyone else ‘coz he’s cool as is. Heck, even Bruce Wayne is jealous.

Then so many other random questions....

- How does the first guy who finds the Batman shuriken know what that symbol is?

- How does the police officer that finds Falcone know to look to the sky, ask “what is that?” and know that the shadow and light make a symbol? Like shouldn’t the bigger deal be that someone caught Falcone? For all he knows, Falcone could’ve been tied to a spotlight just to catch people’s attention. But I bet Bruce Wayne dragged that officer into a dark alley and was like “I am giving you a 100 bucks to ask ‘what is that’ when you see Falcone tied to a big light.”

- Also, I am glad Sergeant Gordon decided to not answer him. Imagine guesing the wrong animal? Like, “Maybe it’s an eagle? Looks like the eagle on the Presidential Seal”.

- How can you tell someone to keep calm and then follow up with telling them that they have been poisoned? Explain.

- Poor Alfred is left to do all the heavy lifting. He is literally a 100 years old and has to carry around unconscious damsels like a creeper.

- Does Batman have Rachel low-jacked?

- Why is Bruce just standing and chit-chatting with Ra’s Al Ghul while his minions are starting a little bonfire in his house? He knows what Al Ghul is about to do, he has the antidote and could be busy saving people or punching Al Ghul to stop him..

And last but not least, WHAT IS WITH KATIE HOLMES’S ROCK HARD NIPPLES??? I am completely with the #freethenipple movement and I understand the last scene where she is with Bruce and on her own time. But when she gets attacked by the Scarecorw, she is a professional and on the job. Was she not wearing a padded bra to work?? Or does hallucinating about guys with sack-cloth masks and maggots on their face turn her on so much, that her nipples punch a hole through the bra????

Let’s talk about this a litte. This is clear sexism and sexualization. I understand that Batman & Robin (1997) wasn’t the best Batman movie. But if Joel Schumacher got flack for sexualizing the men and giving them nipples, then shouldn’t Nolan get the same for this? Just coz some Batman fans got a hard on watching Katie Holmes, what says that some Batman fans didn’t get turned on seeing George Clooney’s nipples?

Also, for shooting such scenes, female actors have to rub ice on their nipples before every shoot? And I’ve heard some even cut out little holes in their bras to let the nipples peek out. And then they have to also deal with Reddit threads like this:

https://www.reddit.com/r/batman/comments/wx6ge/why_i_preferred_katie_holmes_over_maggie/

Try not to puke please..

We should probably thank Joel Schumcher to have the presence of mind to add the hard nipples to the suit rather than have rub ice on Clooney’s tits every scene. That would have been one long shoot otherwise.

Free the male nipple too I say!

There’s so much more I want to say, but may I should leave it for a Part 2? I don’t want to be totally negative. I did like a few things. I appreciated the minimal use of effects and the way they depicted Scarecrow’s powers. And I will end this rant with one of my favourite dialogue scenes.

#batman begins #christopher nolan #batman #bruce wayne #ra's al ghul #scarecrow #christian bale #liam neeson #cillian murphy #katie holmes #dark knight trilogy #batman & robin #joel schumacher #george clooney #thoughts #movie rant #janurants

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amyadamsnews · 6 years

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Amy Adams on equal pay, family life and her grittiest role to date

In a corner of the genteel lounge of Los Angeles’s iconic Chateau Marmont, Amy Adams is launching into the opening lines of the Abba classic The Winner Takes It All – and it’s pitch-perfect. With other Hollywood actors, this tuneful showcase of talent, five minutes into an interview, might come across as showing off.

But the star of American Hustle, Nocturnal Animals and Arrival – a five-time Academy Award nominee and the recipient of two Golden Globes – seems atypically unstarry. Our conversation has simply prompted a demo of one of her great passions: karaoke.

Fresh-faced and freckled, today, the 43-year-old is dressed casually in jeans and a peach blouse, her red hair pulled into a loose ponytail. In spite of her success on the big screen, you might not recognise her if she strolled past you on the street.

She’s one of the most in-demand actors in Hollywood, skilled at switching between roles – from wide-eyed and vulnerable in Junebug, which launched her leading-lady career, through tough-talking and trashy in The Fighter, to religious fanatic in The Master and – most memorably – sexy, seductive con artist in American Hustle.

Amy’s latest part looks set to make her more immediately familiar, however. Next month, she stars in HBO’s hotly anticipated new mini-series Sharp Objects, an adaptation of the novel by Gillian Flynn, author of the bestselling thriller Gone Girl. ‘I’ve been attracted to Gillian’s work for years, because she creates these incredible, flawed females,’ she says.

Directed by Jean-Marc Vallée (who also directed last year’s critically acclaimed TV hit Big Little Lies), Sharp Objects is set in small-town Missouri, where restraint, manners and strong cocktails mask brutal violence and deep dysfunction.

Amy plays what is easily her darkest, most damaged character to date: Camille Preaker, the acerbic, alcoholic, self-harming protagonist. Recently released from a psychiatric unit, Camille, a reporter, is dispatched to Wind Gap, the town in which she grew up, to investigate the murder of two pre-teen girls.

It quickly becomes clear that the intense pain that affects her also infests the other women in her family – her uptight, neurotic mother, Adora (Patricia Clarkson) and her manipulative younger half-sister, Amma (star-in-the-making Eliza Scanlen).

As is becoming increasingly common among Hollywood’s leading ladies, Amy was also an executive producer on the series. It was she who suggested French-Canadian director Vallée. ‘There’s something about the way he tells women’s pain: he circles around it, yet gets to the heart of it,’ she says.

‘He’s not afraid to approach the violence in a way that’s also very emotional.’ For his part, Vallée praises Amy’s bravery in taking on bleak themes. ‘It was scary material, and she was so courageous to tackle this, to be so naked – literally and metaphorically,’ he says.

To help her dig into the darkness, Gillian Flynn recommended she read A Bright Red Scream. ‘It’s first-person accounts by people who self-harm,’ explains Amy, who had to wear prosthetic scars from the neck down during filming. She admits it wasn’t easy to leave Camille behind at the end of each day. ‘I’ve trained myself not to bring a character home, but there were times – whether from living in her head space or just exhaustion – when I suffered insomnia.’

The role also required her to research the psychological condition Munchausen syndrome by proxy, which causes a parent to harm their son or daughter to create the illusion that the child is ill. ‘I did a lot of reading about that too,’ says Amy. ‘It’s so against every parental instinct I have, so I just can’t imagine it. Our daughter [seven-year-old Aviana] has been hurt twice in a way that required trips to the hospital and that’s not something I’d ever want to revisit – it was traumatising.’

Happily, both Amy’s disposition – upbeat, energetic and quick to laugh – and her family life would appear to be a far cry from Camille’s. She and her husband, Darren Le Gallo, met in 2001, at an acting class in Los Angeles, and today live in the city’s glamorous Hollywood Hills. She describes their life as ‘quiet’, save for the odd karaoke night out, or in – the family’s portable karaoke machine even accompanies them on holiday.

When Amy travels for work, her husband and daughter generally go with her. ‘If I’m on my own, I engage in not-great behaviours, like hotel-room eating – sitting in bed every night with a bag of crisps and salsa and a beer,’ she admits.

The middle child of seven, Amy was born on a military base in Vicenza, Italy, where her father was stationed at the time. Her parents were Mormons and, although their adherence to the faith was ‘more cultural’ than overtly religious, ‘church played an important part in our social interactions’, she has said. ‘It instilled in me a value system I still hold true.’

The family eventually settled in Castle Rock, Colorado, when Amy was eight, where her father, having left the army, began singing professionally in nightclubs and restaurants. The rest of her family was more sport-orientated. ‘I was surrounded by these incredibly coordinated siblings who excelled at everything, whereas I just liked to read in my room,’ she laughs.

Her parents divorced when she was 11, and left Mormonism. Her mother, Kathryn, a former gymnast, was also, for a while, an amateur bodybuilder. ‘We have a good relationship, but my mom is tough and always challenged me to push myself,’ says Amy. ‘I wasn’t allowed to be afraid of things, even though I’m naturally very risk-averse. For instance, if a guy pulled up on a motorcycle, I’d be like [adopts goody-goody voice], “Don’t you understand that those are just coffins on wheels?”’

When her mother would take her to her gymnastics class, she goes on, ‘She would say: “We’re not leaving until you do this really tricky move.” That taught me to do things I was afraid of, because the sense of pride in having done something difficult was always worth it.’ It’s a skill that appears to have served her well in her career.

‘I had a kind of autonomy from childhood on,’ she continues. ‘There were so many of us that I knew my parents weren’t going to be funding my life, meaning my choices were my own and I wasn’t worried about what they thought of them.’

She gave up gymnastics, focused instead on dance and trained at a local ballet school. At 18, however, she decided she wasn’t good enough and switched her focus to musical theatre. She worked in dinner theatre for a few years before scoring a chance to audition for Drop Dead Gorgeous, the 1999 beauty-pageant comedy starring Kirstie Alley and Kirsten Dunst, in which Amy played a promiscuous cheerleader.

With Alley’s encouragement, at 24, Amy moved to Los Angeles, where her first few years attempting to break into the industry weren’t easy. ‘I auditioned a lot, but couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t working,’ she has said. ‘The problem was a lack of confidence and self-esteem,’ she tells me today.

In 2004, she was cast as the lead in the CBS series Dr Vegas, alongside Rob Lowe, but the show was dropped after just a few episodes. At that point, she considered quitting the industry.

‘I began thinking I should do something that was more secure,’ she says. ‘I wasn’t willing to be as unhappy as I was in danger of becoming and I didn’t like what it was turning me into.’

Then her fortunes began to turn around. In 2005, she was cast as the lead, Ashley, in the indie comedy Junebug. Her portrayal of the garrulous pregnant woman won her the Special Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival, and two years later, scored her the part of Giselle, the optimistic princess, in Enchanted.

Achieving success at 31, rather than 21, has its advantages, she now believes. ‘At least I was able to enjoy my 20s before anyone was paying me too much attention,’ she sighs, nostalgically. ‘No Instagram, no Twitter, no Facebook – thank God! I had a bad habit of taking photos on disposable cameras that didn’t belong to me. I have no idea how many complete strangers’ cameras I mooned into back then!’ she laughs.

Since the downfall of Harvey Weinstein and the rise of the #MeToo movement, are there incidents from early in her career that she feels she wouldn’t be OK with now?

‘Yes, and I wasn’t OK with it back then either,’ she says. ‘I had to audition in a bikini. I didn’t get the role, because the character would be filmed wearing one and I don’t look good in swimwear.’

I scoff at this claim. ‘I really don’t,’ she insists. ‘And that’s OK – that’s not why I was put on this earth. But I don’t know a single woman, working in any industry, who doesn’t have a story like that, about feeling vulnerable.’

I wonder whether, beneath her sanguine exterior, some of the self-esteem issues she mentioned earlier still lurk. Despite being petite, Amy is surprisingly self-deprecating about her body.

‘I always look pregnant in photos,’ she claims with a laugh. ‘I wear loose dresses because I have a paunch. It’s not a big paunch, but it’s there!’ And she’s less than comfortable being snapped on the red carpet. ‘I understand it’s part of the job, but it’s not my favourite place,’ she has said.

‘I love fashion, but having to be somebody who promotes that industry has always been a tricky one for me, because of the way it affects women’s sense of self,’ she says. ‘I’ve lectured several designers about their sizing. If a dress in my size is five inches too small for me, what’s happening?’

Even before the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements began, Amy was catapulted into the centre of rows about sexism within the industry. When thousands of email accounts at Sony were hacked in 2014, the revelations about American Hustle focused mainly on the fact that Amy and her co-star Jennifer Lawrence were paid less than their male counterparts, Bradley Cooper and Christian Bale.

At the time, she chose not to comment. ‘Everyone wanted me to talk about how I felt about it, but I want to fight for people outside our industry, so to come out and look ungrateful about what I’m paid as an actress just didn’t feel right,’ she says today.

‘I do believe in equal pay, but let’s start with our teachers. Let’s get waiters paid the minimum wage. That’s what’s great about what’s happening with Time’s Up – we’re starting to have bigger conversations than just about what’s happening in Hollywood.’

Other emails were also leaked, alleging that the film’s director, David O Russell, was so tough on Amy that Bale stepped in to address the problem. ‘He was hard on me, that’s for sure. It was a lot,’ Amy later said, and she has admitted in interviews that she cried ‘most days’ during the making of the film. ‘I remember saying to my husband, “If I can’t figure this out, I can’t work any more. I’ll just have to do something else. I don’t want to be that person, not for my daughter,”’ she has said.

When she talks about coping during the making of Sharp Objects, it’s clear that she was determined for it to be a very different experience. ‘I’m now able to think, “OK, I know what’s going on here. I just need to go to work, do my job, then come home, make dinner and do something grounding.”’

She was recently reunited with Bale for the upcoming biopic Backseat, about former US vice-president Dick Cheney. She whips out her phone to show me an image of her in character as his wife, Lynne, alongside Bale, who played Cheney, and both are virtually unrecognisable thanks to extensive prosthetics.

The lengthy process of transformation renewed her respect for her co-star. ‘I had to wear the prosthetics for only two weeks, but Christian was coming in at 2am every day to have his applied before the day’s filming started. His work ethic is just incredible.’

Amy is keen to do more producing, too. ‘There’s lots in pencil on the calendar, but I don’t talk about anything until it’s in pen,’ she says. Risk-averse to the end. And with that, she gives me her top karaoke-bar tips and slips back to her quiet life in the hills.

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/life/amy-adams-equal-pay-family-life-grittiest-role-date/#comments

#amy adams #telegraph #sharp objects #hbo #gillian flynn #jean marc vallee #cheney #christian bale

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lunakinesis · 7 years

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Taking Credit

I once had a friend – Amber was her name – who never did anything for herself, never earned anything of her own accord, and never achieved anything from her own work and effort. Everything she had come from someone else:

Her parents – who were not in any way rich, they certainly weren't poor but they weren't middle class either – who did everything around the house for her, who she threw tantrums at to get her own way, who she manipulated into complaining to the school every time a teacher noticed she hadn't done her own work or was failing or being disruptive.

Her siblings, whom she domineered over. She blackmailed and bribed them into doing her chores and every other task she didn't feel like doing. She's the youngest of three, I should mention.

Her classmates, whom she bullied. The smart kids were forced into doing her homework or letting her copy, the same went for classwork. Anyone the slightest bit 'different' was basically a gazelle to a lion with her, and with her leading the charge the general popular crowd-sheep soon followed in their teasing that quickly escalated.

Her teachers, who were powerless to do anything against her lest she raise all hell and cry to her parents. I don't begrudge them for barely doing a thing about her, they had bills to pay and most had kids to feed and they couldn't afford to lose their jobs.

I could go on, but I'm sure it's clear now just what kind of person this friend was. Now I imagine you're wondering why I'd be friends with someone like that in the first place. I can tell you it wasn't really a choice I had, our families were friends going back to our great-grandparents. Whether I liked it or not – and believe me, I didn't – I had to socialise with this girl during joint family vacations, barbecues, parties, the works. My parents knew what a little witch she was, but they dared not ruin a friendship spanning generations by bringing it up to her folks.

So my little sister and I had to endure this human parasite that fed on other peoples' ideas, influence and achievements. For the most part I was spared her bullshit, I think she had been wary of sparking a family feud...not that that seems in line with how she generally was, but it's the only reason I can think of.

For whatever reason, she decided the countless innocents at her mercy were not enough and she needed to add me into the mix. She couldn't do it in her usual, obvious way. No, instead she decided to be as sly as she could manage.

She stole my journal.

Now, this wasn't a journal full of my private thoughts and secrets that she planned to blackmail me with; I fortunately did not have one of those, though what was stolen from me in its pages is arguably just as bad in a different sort of way.

My ideas.

I used the journal for world and character building, as well as setting up the plot for a story I wanted to write. A story I hoped to publish. I wrote it out because it was precious to me, and I was always worried my laptop would die and I'd be unable to recover it. I'd already drafted up a few of the early chapters too, once I was happy with them, I planned on typing them up.

I didn't get a chance.

She took it. Took MY ideas, MY hard work and passed it off as her own. She used it for our creative writing class at first, I didn't know until the teacher passed around copies she'd made as an 'example' for us. That's when I saw my characters, my plot...a piece of my heart and soul, on the page before me.

I could feel tears prickling in my eyes when I realised what had happened. I hadn't even realised the journal was gone; I'd been too busy with homework in the days before to write in it.

There was nothing I could do about it in class; it was my word against hers even if the teachers knew what she was like. They all bent to her will in the end. All I did was raise my hand and say I didn't feel well, I think the fact I was on the verge of tears added to the lie and I was excused.

The school nurse let me go home with what she presumed was a 24-hour stomach bug.

I wanted to tell my parents but at the same time, I didn't. I didn't want to be the one to blame for tearing apart our families, even if it was really her fault. So I kept it inside, cried in my room. My parents just thought it was because of whatever bug I had. I hadn't been sick before, but letting it bubble up within me gave me knots in my stomach that turned into me vomiting into a bucket my mom left beside my bed.

My parents kept me home from school the next day. I thought maybe I'd get over it, maybe it'd be better the next day and I could tell them and get my notebook back. Until a friend sent me a text:

Hey. Amber gave Ms. Temple more of that story. Think she wants to put it in the school magazine!

I don't know what happened to me as I read that, but I knew something broke. A mixture of anger, frustration and sadness flooded me. Hot fury mixed with heartbreak.

I couldn't tell my parents. Not now. It wouldn't be enough.

A plan was forming in my mind as I lay in bed crying. It wouldn't be something I could do overnight, but it'd be worth it.

Let me tell you that years’ worth of cosplay experience was invaluable to my plan. I could dress up as pretty much anyone or anything with the right amount of effort and materials, and I already knew what I intended to do once my outfit was complete.

She wanted to steal from me? Fine. I'd get even.

You see, Amber had this boy she liked. His name is Adam. Adam was...kind of a pig. A pig not interested in her, much to her frustration. No, his interests lay in Mrs. Winter and her 'E's'. Though I'm pretty sure – like all assholes – they'd somehow drift together; that's my experience with these sorts of things anyway.

That's where my plans come in. Now, Amber and I are the same height with the same fair complexion; however she has blonde hair and green eyes, whilst I have auburn hair and blue eyes. These traits were easily fixed by a long, wavy wig and a set of my innumerable contact lenses.

The one other difference was that I was 'blessed with a chest', as it were. A fact I'm sure he'd overlook...or be too preoccupied with staring at to pay much attention to anything else. I did have a plan in mind for that too if I was questioned. Amber always got her way; it wouldn't be a stretch to imagine she'd convinced her parents to let her get a boob job.

I knew he tended to hang out in the alley beside the local arcade, blowing out smoke like he was some 'cool dude' from the 50s or something. He thought the games were too 'dumb' and 'for kids' so stayed there whilst his friends played. As if it somehow made his douchebag self more mature.

I was waiting for him as he swaggered down the alley; the shaded passage was helpful in concealing my identity. It was a good disguise, but not fool proof. The dark helped with that.

"Hey, Adam!" I called out, trying to up the pitch of my voice to the sickeningly-sweet tone Amber had. He barely looked up from his phone as he approached, unlit cigarette held between his lips.

"Hey...Emma...right?"

"Amber."

"Close enough."

I managed to laugh. If it was anyone else I'm sure Amber would've thrown a hissy fit, but with this creep she'd let anything slide. Idiot.

"Think I could bum one of those off of you?" I asked, nodding towards the cigarette.

"What's it worth?" His eyes were trained on my chest as he spoke. Ew, teenage boys.

"What? You want a free grab or something?" I felt gross just uttering those words. Now, I have no issue with any guy or girl messing around however they want. It was just sickening humouring this waste of oxygen.

"If you're offering."

I really wasn't, but needs must and all.

"Fine, but I want that smoke first."

He sighed, but stepped forward, putting his phone away and pulling out the box instead. "Here. You women always want it your own way."

If I had been me, I would've responded to that casual bit of sexism, but I had to keep up the act for just a little while longer. "That's because I know what I want." I said, batting my eyelashes.

It was true; I did know what I wanted. But it certainly wasn't to let this ass fondle my chest whilst he came in his pants.

As he stepped closer I clutched at the purse hanging from my shoulder. Amber and I both had always made sure to carry large ones around, so it didn't look out of place on me here. We also happened to have an identical pair. Fancy that.

Milliseconds passed like hours to me as he drew within touching distance.

Closer, closer...

"I'm sorry."

"Wha-"

My bag came down over his head and Adam fell to the floor.

I was knocked off balance, stumbling due to the weight of my weapon into the wall. Adam didn't move, he didn't even grumble or swear or any of the other things I assumed a person would do when smacked over the head with a concealed brick.

I took a breath and straightened myself before finally looking back at Adam properly, my body was shaking. His head was bleeding, unsurprisingly, but it wasn't just bleeding on the side I hit it. He'd manage to crack his head on a step leading into a back entrance of the arcade.

He was staring up with blank eyes, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as well as his head wounds. The one from the step was deeper than my hit. I was sure I could see his skull, but the blood was pumping through my body so hard and fast I couldn't be sure.

I'd done too good of a job, but no going back now.

When my legs stopped shaking so much, I ran. As I had always intended to do. Back past the building site where I'd picked up the brick and taking it back from my bag and returning it, straight back into my house and into my room. From there, into my en suite.

Costume dumped on the floor, I let the still-cold water of the shower wash over me. It was done. I couldn't take it back. But it had gone even better than planned, really.

I feigned shock when my parents sat me down the next day and broke the news to me that one of my schoolmates had been murdered. I forced out tears when they told me CCTV footage had caught Amber in the act.

A part of me was proud, I was so convincingly disguised that even my own parents didn't recognise me.

"We'll be keeping you off school for a while, honey."

"If you need to go lie down, Maddy, that's okay. The police might be back to talk to you about Amber but you don't have to talk until you're ready."

I sniffled and stood to hug them both before retreating to my room. Oh, I was ready. But I had to play the part of the shocked childhood friend who couldn't understand how someone who was practically a sister to her could do something so heinous.

Yes, she'd always been prone to aggressive outbursts but they were like a toddler's temper tantrums, she never physically hurt anyone...Well yes, she did prey on some of the meeker kids that were easy targets for bullying but it just seemed like typical teenage assholery, nothing really malicious.

Now that you mention it...she did have a crush on that boy and has never liked being told no. Maybe she snapped. I don't know. He parents could never really discipline her, she walked all over them...she definitely had some issues.

I had it all planned out and delivered my lines flawlessly when a pair of officers came to our home to ask a few questions. Amber's reputation was fuel against her. Even her parents who had understandably been trying to defend their child's innocence ended up questioning it and exactly what she was capable of.

Our families grew apart with the weight of the trial on Amber's parents' backs, but my parents were distantly supportive in their own way even if things were tense and awkward.

Amber continued to deny it even after the 'Guilty' verdict was given. I'm told she was sobbing, pleading with the judge and jury, with her parents, begging everyone to believe she was innocence, that it wasn't her.

Poor, poor Amber. She liked to take credit for work that was not hers, so I made sure she got the credit for my greatest work yet.

#stories #scary stories #horror stories #horror #writers on tumblr #my work #HERE YOU GO GUYS #FINALLY

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