Jurassic City - Network

So, I doubt my post will get as many comments as the last one but I have some photos to share. Being a dead former secret agent, I never really had an instagram. I'm embracing what it would have been.

( here they are )

Well that was about six shades of something I never want to fight through again.

Back to dinosaurs, huh?

I guess this is about as close to a vacation as I'm ever gonna get. How long was I out?

Now that I've almost got my head back on straight...

I'm sorry I was such a mess when I got back. A lot had happened and it was a lot of not good.

James, we should do something. I'm tired of moping. Wanna go see a movie that's not about Tony Stark's shitty life choices? Or rob a bank? Or get some burgers? I'm joking about robbing a bank. I wouldn't do that.

Hey, Mack. How's that boyfriend of yours doing?

Dinosaurs? Are you serious? Can't a guy catch a break?

I'm almost glad this place exists.

I need a drink. Or eight.

( spoilers for the aos finale )

In case you were wondering, home is still pretty terrible.

There are some high points. Jemma is alive, May doesn't hate me as much. Ward is dead That about sums it up.

I need a drink. Many.

Where am I?

Did I go through another portal?

Oh my god. I don't want to be honest about my feelings. I hate everything about this. I just want to keep posting things about ridiculous Captain America hats.

( cut for length )

You know what? I'm done. I'm just done. I am sick of all this crap.

So here's the hat I found today:



It is way more important than any stupid drama my life has, because when you squeeze the little puff balls the arms flail.

This hat is currently on Buckyjames's head. I'd take a picture but he's laughing too hard.

You can all go screw yourselves.

I know I should want to go home. That should be the normal reaction for someone trapped in an alternate reality that seems to involve dinosaurs and a city in the middle of nowhere. But I don't. I don't because home is going to shit, everything I've ever known is in tatters and resurrected as a laughable ghost of itself, and the world is about to implode on itself because it's not equipped to handle the monstrosities about to be unleashed on it.

And the only people who might be able to do something about keeping it all in check are too busy dropping cities from the sky.

Yeah. No. I refuse.

That was trippy.

And horrifying.

This... Okay. The last time I was taken somewhere against my will they tried to dissect me...

So, Halloween is upon us.

Now, I know that we live in a state of near constant danger with the giants lurking outside the fence but that is no reason we should not have some fun. Which is why, i, your humble bar owner, will be hosting a series of Halloween parties at Pour Judgement as the season goes. Starting this Saturday.

Originally I was going to hold a drunken pumpkin carving contest to kick it off but apparently that is considered a dangerous idea. So, instead, we're giving out free booze to anyone who can tell me a seriously scary story or show an impressive scar.

Some of the biggest ones never even made it into the city.

There should be more weapons, tracking, and food stashes for the next time. With the little juice packets.

[Filtered to Skye]
Stop talking to him. Your windows will break again.

I left you something. The tag in the store said you play with them for stress. Your hands are what make things shake. I thought they might help you remember.

And they're soft, so if you get mad and drop them on your feet to break things it won't hurt your feet.

I'm not sure what's going on, but I am sure that dinosaurs are always a terrible idea. I know because pop culture has taught me this.

I already ruled this out as hallucination, mind control dream, or some form of hysteria, so now I'm just leaning toward insane, but officially not my brand of insane, and therefor not my fault.

So, who's running this joint? Please tell me it's not a T-Rex. Or actually, tell me it was, it'd make my day better.

So, either I didn't make it to heaven or the bible left somethings out. Don't really remember there being much talk of dinosaurs in church.

I hope Skye is alright. And jesus, Mom. Coulson is going to have to tell her I wish I could go back.

So, I have a grumpy cat hobo with poor social skills and a pretty cool metal arm living on my couch now. I ran into him a few days ago and thought he was a homeless person, and eventually gained his trust through peanut butter sandwiches and a shared hatred of Hydra. Now he's staying on my couch instead of next to a dumpster.

Weirdly, that's also how I got my only pet. Okay, it wasn't really a pet. It was a squirrel that I made friends with at one of my foster homes. She was a really angry squirrel. But she liked me. And she lived in my closet for three weeks until my foster parents found out. I named her Sandy. Shut up.

Holy shit dinosaurs. I'm gonna need a gun bigger than my torso and about ten people who taste better than me to all sit near me right now. Some beefy, slow types. Help a bro out here. My survival is good for the human race.

And what the fuck, how much did I drink last night and who are all of you and what was with the white room and the chick in it who didn't tell me squat about the answers to any of that?