[deputystakes]

YOU’RE SO FAR FROM YOUR WEAPON.   deputystakes,   an independent and highly selective writing blog for deputy u.s. marshal ashley graves of go set a watchman,   an original universe based in the crime, horror, and neo-western genres.   deputized by raylan, twenty-three, he/him.    affiliated with #deputyfangs.  

case file.   pins.   radio.   lore.   people of interest.   a kentucky graveyard where nothing stays buried.

AN EXPLORATION OF   ...   sainthood,    wrath as an open wound,   trauma under pressure,   the american gothic,   backwater gospels,   and the rage of the father.

[notmorbid]

michael.

dialogue prompts from michael (1996).

let's just start over. it's best just to start over.

you think i'm full of shit.

it's not for me to decide what's real and what's not.

that smell is so familiar. it's like something from childhood.

oh, you just know everything, don't you?

angels don't smoke.

only little angels can fly.

what is it that you keep writing in that book?

mesopotamia isn't still there.

you love to fight. like me.

i want to see the world's largest ball of twine.

they're going to exploit you. you have to know that.

the miles will fly and your children will cry if you play car bingo.

you gotta learn to laugh. that's the way to true love.

can i sit up? of course i can sit up.

don't you feel sorry for me.

it's really not polite to talk about someone in the third person when that person's right here.

we can't change the nature of the world.

no, not the apostles. the beatles.

we are not stopping to see the world's largest non-stick frying pan.

well, i want it. i want pie.

there's nothing prettier than pie.

pie gives you the feeling you're a square-edged person in a square-edged country.

you have a song about pie?

here's a confession. you wanna hear a confession?

it was late and i was drunk.

i think i could forgive you for anything.

this was not a mistake. please don't say this was a mistake. i couldn't bear it.

i'm gonna miss everything so much.

remember, no matter what they tell you: you can never have too much sugar.

what is your area? can you explain that to me?

i don't have much longer.

you're just gonna leave? you don't want to talk about it?

you said you could forgive me anything.

i remember you. i thought you were gone.

as far as i'm concerned, it never happened.

if i kneel, will you marry me?

[themarshalstale]

JUSTIFIED — Season 4

⤷ I got a young kid here, decorated sniper in Iraq war, Army Ranger, I don’t know how many kills he had, always looking to kill somebody else, probably got PTSD, probably an alcoholic. Not a matter of if that powder keg is gonna blow but when.

[deputystakes]

i log on. i lurk. i log out. i log on. i lurk. i log o-

[deputystakes]

@guttersniper said,  “ you got more opinions than sense. ” 

      MILES TO MIDNIGHT.  season’s changing.  ashley feels the bite in his lungs as he exits to take another smoke break.  he feels it when he leaves the roadhouse with someone else’s blood on his hands.  seasons get colder.  crueler.  the marshal tries not to think about it, where the boy goes when the sun vanishes beneath a bloody horizon.  wild things found their way.  he never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.

“ so do you. ”  it goes a little like this: they exchange venom.  the lawman hates kids, and the kid hates lawmen.  ashley’s elbows are planted on the diner table.  the kid’s looking at the exit,  the lawman’s watching the reflections as they shift in the panes of glass.  “ eat your hash browns. ”

[notmorbid]

sorrowland, pt. 1.

dialogue prompts from sorrowland by rivers solomon.

you got more opinions than sense.

there’s nothing good about what is proper.

i could never make you do a damn thing.

loneliness kills. did you know that?

try to be happy for just once in your life. you might like it.

something happen to you, honey?

i end up hurting most people, despite my best efforts.

you can go anywhere in the world, and this is where you choose?

i love you. i promise i do.

you’re always spoiling for a fight.

aren’t you tired? aren’t you just so damn tired of fighting?

you are something else.

there’s worse things than being tired.

life doesn’t have to be as hard as you make it.

i guess i’m just homesick or something.

loneliness is the root of all manner of sin.

where is home, anyway?

i like the idea of a place to call yours that you can leave and come back to. a home.

aren’t you ever curious about me? where i go when i’m not with you?

you’re braver than i realized.

can’t you see i would never hurt you?

was anything you said to me true?

we’re alike. angry and mean and we hurt people.

you don’t know anything about truth.

cross your heart?

people aren’t born, they’re made.

don’t you think this beauty deserves some tears?

i love you more than breathing.

i’ll take care of us. i’ll take care of you.

how will i find you? how will i ever find you?

i’m sorry for being so grumpy.

i didn’t leave you behind. i got lost.

i’ve taken care of myself for a long time. i don’t need your help.

the stuff that’s happening to me, you wouldn’t believe it. nobody would.

i need to tell you something. before i forget.

[deputystakes]

                I AM THE ANGEL TRAPPED INSIDE THE BULLET. I AM THE EXIT WOUND TRAPPED INSIDE THE ANGEL.   a study of wrath, war, and the american dream.

[deputystakes]

@sanctuhs said,  ‘ he who does god’s will is going to live forever. ’ 

               THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH.   it’s a nice promise.   it’s the kind of threat his father belted when he could still preach in their backwater church,   the flames of hell licking at his heels upon the podium.   it’s what the brass told them in the corps — sign the contract,   do god’s will,   live forever in the shadow of the flag.   so they made their deals with god.   they made their deals with the devil.

hounds,   angels   /   both were messengers.   both found him,   eventually,   traversing the highways and backroads which snaked across truck stop america.   michael just so happened to find him here,   sitting his sorry ass in a diner,   hiding from god again.   

michael’s own cup sits neglected,   whereas ashley grips his mug of coffee tight in his hands — for at the end of the day,   he was mortal,   with mortal needs and desires.   (   though as time crawls forward,   the foundations beneath that truth seem to crumble and fall away to the sea.   )   but it’s summer,   it’s sunday,   and ashley’s temples throb with the consequences of last night’s actions.   there are more pressing matters at hand than the consequences of his so-called holy work,   a lifetime removed.   ‘ sounds like hell. ’