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Baby + sunglasses

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Baby Driver (2017) Directed by Edgar Wright

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LOGAN (2017) // SENTENCE STARTERS

feel free to change pronouns / descriptors !

those are chrome plated mugs.

oh, fuck.

you’re the only one that can help.

get the fuck away from me!

it was either an escaped tiger or freddy kruger.

i’m looking for someone who’s looking for you.

get the fuck out of my car.

i am a fan, by the way.

nature made me a freak. man made me a weapon. and god made it last too long. 

holy fuck.

two days on the road, only one meal, and hardly any sleep. 

you are dying. you want to die.

this is what life looks like: people love each other. you should take a moment…

i always know who you are, i just sometimes don’t recognize you.   

this has been the most perfect sleep i’ve had in years… and i don’t deserve it, do i? 

(name), you still have time.

she’s like you.

you had a nightmare.

people hurt me.

i hurt people.

i’ve hurt people, too. they were bad people.

you know you gotta pay for that, right?

hey, hey, c’mon, where’s your parents?

not okay!

what the fuck?

the lord will provide.

it happened once and they just turned it into a big fucking lie! 

bad shit happens to people i care about.

take your friends and run.

you don’t have to fight anymore.

don’t be what they made you.

no … no, dad. no … no … daddy! no, daddy! dad!

so this is what it feels like.

such a nice man.

i don’t wanna talk about it. i don’t wanna hear it anymore. 

i have to pee.

i am fucked up.

motherfucking auto trucks!

language, (name).

geez, seeing you like this, it just breaks my damn heart. 

showtime, boy!

hey… hey, hey, what’s goin’ on? huh? 

you can talk? you can fucking talk?

i hear you at night; you’re not sleeping.

there’s no living with the killing. there’s no going back. right or wrong, it’s a brand. a brand that sticks. 

let’s go. we gotta move.

i don’t know how you got me here, but… thank you. 

you read these in your spare time?

there are no more guns in the valley.

we got ourselves an x-men fan.

this is ice cream for bedwetters.

they make you look younger.

i wish i could say that you were a good pupil, but the words will choke me.

what’s all this bullshit’s been for the last 2,000 fucking miles? 

what? okay, shut up! shut up! shut the fuck up! 

it’s a fantasy, kid.

sweetie, you want some dessert?

don’t hit me!

no, do your homework.

dinner’s ready.

you okay, boss?

i’m not a box of avocados.

let’s go to fucking fantasy land.

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Baby Driver (2017) Directed by Edgar Wright

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honestly yall never have to apologize for replying slowly to im’s, take your time, respond when you can / want to. no stress, i will never be upset or mad. even if i see you posting online: i get it. 

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                PRIVATE.    /    INDEPENDENT.   /     SELECTIVE.    /     WRITTEN  BY  LEX.                                                               AUTOPLAY    WARNING  !

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compcnction.

                      &. @notachauffeur paid a visit !

“   so   in   theory,   if   you’re   this   incredible   driver,   you   should   be   able   to   whoop   my   ass   in   mario   kart,   right   ?   ”   she’s   got   a   smirk   on   her   face,   fingers   grasping   her   nintendo   switch   controllers.   “   prepare   to   eat   bananas.   not   literally.   ”  

       a  grin  spreads  across plush  lips,  flashing  a  set  of  uneven  ivory  pearls.     ❝   ——–  i think  this  different,  but  maybe.   ❞   gaze  drifts  to  the  multi  colored  control  in  his  hand.   ❝    they still do  the  turtle  shell  things,  right  ?  ❞

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Baby’s endless supply of sunglasses.

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@loveisaviolence

        the  world  buzzing  around  him   seemingly  doesn’t  exist.  limbs  move  on  their  own  accord,  keeping  with  a  flow  no  one  else  can  hear.     phlegmatic   composure  since  vanished  with  a  wrap  of  this  mornings  work,  allowing  music  to  ascend  his  growing  good  mood.   (     ignoring  the  televised  news  in  the  passing  window    !   )   he  slides  out  of  the  way,  slipping  between  pedestrians,  oblivious  to  the  string  of  stranger  onlooks.  makes  no  effort  to  tone  it  down  as  he  enters   the  coffee  shop,  feet  working  an  intricate slide  as  he  moves  around  a  man  hurrying  out  the  door.   sliding  up  to  the  counter,  baby  removes  an  earbud,   forearms  rest  against  the  surface,  telling  smile  tugging  at  his  lips  at  the  sight  of  her.           ❝   --------  don’t  suppose  you’re  gettin’  off  ‘ny  time  soon  ?   ❞  makes  no  effort  to  hide  a  hopeful  timbre. 

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M A N S O N.

    @notachauffeur || sc !

       eyes lit up at the sight before him, a devious smile unfurling, “ —— speak of the devil and he shall appear — how pleasant it is to see you again! ”

        surprise  urges  brows  towards  his  hairline,  inching  away  from  the  tops  of  shades.   what  were  the  odds  ?    blinking,  features  ease  into  their  usual,  simple  indifference.  plush  lips  press  together       ❝    — small  world.   ❞   gaze  flicks  to  doc,  who  briefly  regards  the  two  will  mild  inquisition  before  going  back  to  the  drawing  board.  baby  lowers  himself  in  the  seat  beside  manson.  the  uncomfortable  truth  is  that  upon  first  meeting,  he  hadn’t  struck  baby  as  a  trigger  man ----- somehow  he’d  read  him wrong.     

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you know its not funny or cute when people give their characters hypochondria for a comedy act. im so sick of seeing this disorder being used as something hilarious. like yeah, really fucking funny to me when i have a mental break down & my mother has to talk me down from a panic attack over something absurd bc it’s spiraled out of control in my head as a terminal illness. stop. using. hypochondria. as. a. joke. its not fucking funny.

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some brazilian girl hacked my twitter bc dylan obrien followed me. girl. he doesnt even fucking get on twitter. 

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Oh, like a chauffeur? Anyone I’d know? I hope not.

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W Y N T E R.

            ❛          —— YOU  ..  son’uva bitch   !            ❜            adrenaline buzzes beneath bruised porcelain.   vehicle’s barely thrown into park before she’s stepping out.   rapidly approaching,  aggression urges retaliation and she’s swinging.   using every dirty play beneath the sun, she begins exacting revenge.            ❛          —— you almost got me killed   !              ❜

@notachauffeur.  /   💎

           he  usually  tries  to  avoid  the  violence as much as he can.  there  have  been  jobs  that  went  sideways  before,  sure  ----- but  he  was  always  detached  enough  that  it  wasn’t  personal.  this  time  the  blood  staining  the  inside  of  the  car  invokes  a  panic.   and  he  isn’t  entirely  sure  on  the  details  of  how  or  if  that  could  be  used  to  track  her  down  (  wouldn’t  she  have  to  be  in   the  system  first ?  )   a he  doesn’t  have  the  time  to  think  it  through  in  the  way  he  wants  to -----  wynter  rips  out  of  the  vehicle  in  a  blur  and  he  barely  gets  the  car  in  park  before  he’s  following  suit.  his  long  stride  is  only  but  a  few  short  paces  behind   her,   heart  thrumming  wildly  in  his  chest.   the  beat  swallows  the  tune  in  his  ears,  drowning  it  with  a  wild,  rhythmic  hum.  she’s  quick,  already  striking.  normally  he’d  let  her,  but  there’s  blood  ------ blood   BLOOD   BLOOD  BLOOD.   and  it’s  hers.   long  arms  out  stretch,  sweeping  her  off  the  garage  floor,  bridal  style ----    desperately  trying  to  avoid  worsening  the  injury  at  her   waist.   just  as  the  dark  shades  adorning  his  face  fly  off  in  the  scuffle, a  hard  glare  is  shot  at  the  man  who  left  her  to  rot .    ❝    get  in  your  fucking  car. ❞      timbre  rings  low  &  cold,  an  abnormal  tone  for  the  driver.  the  steps  he  takes  to  put  distance  between  them  is  not  a  retreat  ----- merely  a  deal  with  you  later ------ when  the  girl  in  his  embrace  isn’t  bleeding  all  over  him  and  scattered  with  stray  bullets.