#sightisms

         seeing the news, seeing j jonah jameson in times square, showing a picture of a spider-man and a peter parker that wasn’t him-- well, he’d like to say he’d seen stranger. and thoughts of trying to figure out what had happened where erased when he saw those mechanical arms. and he’d gone, rage coloring his vision red. and yet-- when he got there, the man with those arms was not the otto octavius he had so admired. and now he was sitting on a roof with a different dr. octavius, trying not to think about his own. ‘ so-- we’re in a different world? brought here by dr. strange? ‘

Scout Carver was a follower - a dedicated,loyal follower even when the man she served was dead and gone. She helped Amanda Young,but was mostly there for false moral support,making the other think that Scout was going to help her out of this weird fucked up thing she had with Kramer,but she didn't. That was her job,her part in the game of Saw,and when things took a turn for the worst,the worst being John dying,she took up to the challenge of continuing on the game,but now she had help - Logan and Abigail.

Two people she considered friends,maybe even family if she wasn't so damn stubborn about the subject. The family she had left was gone. John Kramer was like a father to her,and she figured he was to many who supported him,and even after death he still had that support and followers who wanted to be just like him. It felt nice not to be alone and not to be the only fucked up person in the room. She was watching Abigail set up a new trap,green hues fixated on the other's form,a lollipop in her mouth,stuffed in her cheek. As she watches from her perch on the other table not to far from Abigail,she takes the lollipop out from her mouth and hops off to watch her more closely.

❝You're really good at this,you know. This looks amazing. Don't tell Logan but it looks better than his idea.❞

                    ‘bullshit,’ the word seethes out involuntarily, but dan doesn’t feel bad for saying them. not in the slightest. because to have richie standing right in front of him, looking sad and lonely, and saying that? it is bullshit. ‘you’re just trying to push me away like everyone else. well guess what, fuckwad? it’s not gonna happen,’ suddenly hands reach forward to grab richie by the collar of his shirt, forcing the other man to look up at danny. he hasn’t been so embolded in quite some time, and his breath is already light and shallow inside of paper lungs. eyes stare into richie’s. neither of them have ever looked so serious. ‘you’re basically the only person i have left. so don’t say shit like that,’ after a moment of intense silence, dan lets go of richie and smooths out his shirt before taking a wheezing breath from his inhaler. ‘now sit down and help me count baseball cards,’

“You wanted him in the league, Bruce. You knew what you were signing up for.”