My twin sister and I have twin spiders (maybe??) in our apartment! We call them Betty Jo (top) and Jennilee (bottom) They’re about the size of a dime, and I think they’re only inside cause it’s all rainy and gross out.
AS: these are Tan jumping spiders! they are probably inside cause of the weather, they are also both male.
I expect massive attacks
upon the iron battlefield
savage weapons and
killing for a dime
ghosts clothed in
a work of art
suspended as a
giant ogre facing castor
and pollux twin cotton stars
not everybody is falling in love
with rainbows butterflies flutter and
poetic gibberish bluff presently dropping snake skin
like sand castles
When I woke up the sun was shining in my eyes My silver spurs were gone my head felt twice its size She took my silver spurs a dollar and a dime And left me cravin’ for more summer wine Ohh-oh-oh summer wine
Strawberries cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring My summer wine is really made from all these things Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time And I will give to you summer wine Mmm-mm summer wine
Fear quickly morphed into anger, causing a blotchy red to bloom
across Leeson’s porcelain face. Moira had not needed the hour long session to measure
and weigh Andrea Leeson, her kind – gifted with nearly perfect and pristine beauty
that masked an ugly soul – were sadly a dime a dozen in the world. Confronting
it gave Moira a greater appreciation for the genuine people, too few and far
between, who she was still able to call friend. People like Jessica Danforth and
Jean Loring who’d supported and championed her through the worst, and most of
all, for the man standing beside her after everything she’d put him through.
She could face the false righteous indignation and denial, and
the no longer choked back disdain, with a perceived steady calm because she had
Walter at her side. Moira knew giving hint of any emotion other than icy fury
would be construed as small triumph on Ms. Leeson’s behalf and would only bolster
the nauseous woman’s bravo. Not for one moment would Moira allow the woman to
think she had even the slightest chance of coming out of this confrontation victorious.
“Enough!” she snapped ending the photographer’s denials. “You’re
not nearly as clever as you think you are dear.” Moira said this almost warmly,
as if she felt bad for having to burst the woman’s bubble. “Too much pride in
your talent,” she said running a finger over the lens of the camera she’d handled
earlier. “And so sure of your mark that you
used what was easily available and traceable.”
Moira took a step closer to the woman who visibly shrank
into herself but did not concede any ground. She would though, of that Moira
was certain. “Really how difficult do you think it was to put a quality
photograph together with City Hall,” Leeson flinched at those words, “envelopes.”
“You can’t prove anything,” Leeson’s
tone was whiny and desperate.
“Really? Are you so sure,” Moira
baited. “Tell me Ms. Leeson were you so confident, so intent on your revenge
that you were careful in every detail? You wore gloves handling the photograph?”
No reaction. “How about with the envelope?” The woman’s green eyed gaze did not
waiver. “Alter your handwriting somehow?” There, a slight grimace. “Tell me,
will we find your DNA on the seal of the envelope?” Eyes went wide, her breath thready
as younger woman stumbled backwards.
She turned her head to look at Walter
over her shoulder, her eyes burning near violet with satisfied pride. Their scheme
was working. “Proof,” she said the word with an edge of vicious delight.
“Indeed,” Walter agreed, adding an
extra level of smugness to his crisp voice.
“Though I am sure Ms. Leeson would counter with her own.”
The woman nodded vigorously, not
realizing the trap she was walking into, “Not just that picture either. I have loads
more. Your precious son won’t be able escape justice.”
It took everything in her not react to that
boastful statement. They had a plan and if she deviated now it could spiral out
control. Still it was close, and if not for the hand Walter placed on her
shoulder Moira would have thrown their strategy out the window and gleefully ripped
the woman apart piece by piece.
“These loads,” Walter took over for
her, knowing that she needed a moment to rein herself in, “you have include his
“The driver and EA,” she asked, her
spine straightening and a crocodile smile spreading across her face – the poor diluted
fool actual thought she had something there.
“His partners,” Walter corrected, bristling
at Leeson’s dismissive tenor.
she repeated with self-satisfaction reeking off her.
“I wonder,” Moira said reentering the
fray, “if you recall the also called Count Ms. Lesson?” Confusion marred the
woman’s high brow. “Maker of Vertigo,” she supplied, “he caused quite the
ruckus at my trial if you recall.”
“The Hood, sorry it’s the Arrow now –
but why go on pretense,” she said breezily, “my son was content to let him rot in prison. Not a choice I would
have made given the role his drug played in my daughter’s accident, nor the
smartest decision considering the havoc he raised after escaping. Still the man
would have ended up back in Iron Heights and not filled with arrows if not for
one rash act. Can you fathom what that was Ms. Leeson?” While speaking, she and
her prey had being playing a game of cat and mouse; Leeson kept retreating and
Moira matched her step for step. The woman’s back was against the wall now,
literally and figuratively.
Arms crossed, Moira stood over her as
she trembled out, “Nnn-no.”
“He threatened Miss Smoak’s life.”
Moira paused to let that sink in before continuing. “Now you and your photographs
may not be placing her in mortal jeopardy, but you do present a danger to her
and Mr. Diggle. We can only hazard to guess how he’ll respond to that.” There
was a small part of Moira that hated using her son in this manner, especially after
witnessing the change in how he operated his nighttime activities, but a woman
like Andrea Leeson only truly cared about one thing: herself.
“We can keep this from Oliver,” Walter
said tagging in as they’d planned to make their offer, “and see you comfortably
relocated or we can allow the Arrow to decide how best to protect his partners.
The choice Ms. Leeson is entirely yours.”
"You'd be a dog, a mutt. Because you're loyal and protective but you don't have any traits that make you a dime a dozen."
“A dog? A mutt?” He thought about it for a moment, trying to focus on what she had described him as - he would have tried to protest, but he found it amusing and rather true. “Is that so?” He laughed a little, a grin forming on his face after a moment. “Well, that’s a damn good thing then baby! I was thinkin’ you’d be a cat - unpredictable ‘n sly…but soft and purrin’.”
❝It’s… One Batch, Two Batch, Penny and Dime, you know? It was her favorite book. You gotta cross the ocean, and go fight. You see, whole time you’re thinking you’re gonna be scared, right? But then you’re not. See, that part of it was always easy for me. Killing. Even watching my buddies die, it just didn’t mean nothing. The first time I got scared was on a plane on the way home. I kept thinking God was gonna pull the rug out from under us, you know? Shit, that’s his kind of funny, you know. But the plane landed safe and we were home. Driving through traffic. Yeah, you pass fast food and donut shops and all that greasy shit, the shit you fought to protect, and then the car stops. We were outside her school. I get to her classroom, right? She’s in there, but she’s got no idea. She’s got no idea Daddy’s home. I walk in, these kids, they’re not even studying, they’re-they’re doing some kind of yoga. Yeah. You know? She’s there. She’s doing her poses, you know, she’s bending and, you know, she’s moving. She looks like a flower. Yeah. And you know, you can’t even understand it, you know, how does something like that have… How does something that beautiful have… How does that… how does that come from me, you know? And she looks up and she sees me. I see her. By God, that’s real. That’s real, Red. Boom. In an instant, she’s across that classroom floor, she’s in my arms. She’s squeezing me so tight, I swear I was gonna bust a rib, you know? We just stayed there like that, we’re holding each other. Teacher’s filming the whole thing on her phone, you know, she’s gonna put it on YouTube or some shit. She can’t hold the thing steady, because, you know, she’s… she’s bawling so hard, and the kids are all wailing, you know, they’re screaming. And me? Shit, I’m the worst of all. I’m a… I’m a rubber-faced clown, you know? I cried so hard. But not my baby. Not my girl. You know, she’s my girl. She’s… she’s not crying, she’s holding me up. My girl, she’s keeping me on my feet. She says, “I knew it, Daddy. I knew it.” And then we go home. To the wife, the boy. Place is the exact same, it’s like it was just holding its breath waiting for me to get back, you know? Then it hit me. All of it, you know? The first time I felt how tired I was, you know, I was just tired, you know? You ever been tired, Red?❞
(i was legit going to cut that last quote but– it’s so perfect, all of it. I didn’t know where a good spot to cut it off would be so you get it all)