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anyarose011 · 1 month

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Too Late To Turn Back Now {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: A dislocated shoulder, an insult to end all men, a few lies, going out to eat, and an unwanted revelation about Angus Tully. What a perfect way to celebrate Christmas Eve-Eve.

Part 4 of ?? (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of arm injury, mentions of underage drinking, minor harassment, and discussion of cancer.

This was one of the more lighthearted and fun as hell chapters to write, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 5.0k

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Apparently, Angus Tully had gone on another adventure without you. One probably shouldn’t call it an adventure if he went to the chapel, and merely stared at the photo of your dead friend for hours on end.

“Do you think he was praying?” You asked Mary after she told you that while you were helping her make lunch.

“I think he’s just as religious as you.”

You scoffed. “He’d never become a priest.”

“You’d make a lousy nun.”

“I’d be a fun one.”

Once the four of you sat down to eat, your father tried to give you cookies you knew for a fact were given to you by Miss Crane. You also knew they were a week old at this point. Still, to spare your father’s feelings, you broke off a piece. You then put it in your mouth, nodding with a smile before bringing your napkin to your lips as if to clean them, when really you just spat the cookie into it.

Immediately, Angus asked to go to the bathroom, and you knew he wasn’t doing that, but you couldn’t blame him.

“I’m trying.” Your father shrugged, and all you and Mary could do was laugh.

You helped her was the dishes after that, and went back out to the dining hall, still seeing your dad sitting at the same table, alone.

“Everything alright?” You asked.

“Yes, just waiting on Mr. Tully.”

“You honestly can’t force him to learn today.” You scoffed, leaning against one of the chairs. “It’s Christmas Eve-Eve.”

“You always had lessons on Christmas Eve-Eve, and you didn’t complain.”

“I did.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Several times.”

He sighed. “I’ll let him out early by an hour; if you attend as well.”

“Never mind, let him rot.”

“I thought so.” He got up from his chair. “Where on God’s green earth is that boy?”

You watched him leave through the doors Angus took ten minutes ago, and as you were about to go into the kitchen to (lovingly) bother Mary some more, you heard shouting. Now of course, you were (and still are) a nosey bitch, so you had no choice but to also go through the doors leading out into the hallway. You heard Angus first.

“There’s nobody here, okay? Just us two losers, a grieving mom, and your-.”

His face and words fell once he saw you enter, and your father turned to see you standing in the doorframe, looking as if you wandered into something you shouldn’t have. Then, you threw on the attitude.

“What am I now?”

He looked away. “Nothing.”

“Oh, wow!” You began with fake enthusiasm.

“I didn’t mean-.”

“-No, no of course you didn’t.”

Your father stepped in. “That’s enough from the both of you. Mr. Tully, I can forgive you for using the phone without permission if-.”

“-If what?” He interrupted. “No, let’s cut the shit: You stay out of my way, and I stay out of yours.”

Of course, your father had detention slips in his back pocket, and of course he threw one up. “That’s a detention.”

Angus pushed past him, groaning and walking fast down the hall. You pursed your lips. “You really showed him.”

“Stuff it, Lady Macbeth.” He scolded, then called Angus. “You just earned yourself a detention, sir. Now, get back here!”

Angus looked back. “Being here with you is already one big fucking detention!”

“Son of a bitch, that’s another detention!”

In response, Angus knocked over a trash can, which caused your father to run like you’d never seen him run before. You should be ashamed that your first instinct was to laugh, but you weren’t and you still aren’t.

You should also have felt like a fool for deciding to run after them as if it were a game. Again, you didn’t feel like one then, and if you were to do it again as an old woman, you would in a heartbeat.

You saw as Angus tore off posters from the wall and would stop at corners just to taunt your father. Then, after running around more than half the school (you had no idea how much honestly, but it was enough for you), you stopped outside of the gym with the both of them. Even with Angus’s back turned, you knew he was contemplating the unthinkable.

“Don’t you even think about it, Mr. Tully.” Your father warned, panting from running. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you, you hear me? Wash my hands.” Angus ignored him, stepping into the gym.

You followed your father as he kept going. “Stop right there, you know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon.”

Angus took one look at the gym equipment, then back to the two of you. “Alea jacta est.”

He winked at you before springing towards the trampoline, bouncing off of it and over the balance beam. When his body landed with a hard ‘thud!’, you and your father were stricken with tense silence.

Which was then broken when an inhuman scream ripped from Angus’ throat.

Still, as your father looked on in horror, you said (being completely unbothered). “He’s faking it.”

When his screams didn’t subside, and you only heard them grow louder and he threw in more explicate language, your smile fell. It was when he got to his knees did you see how mangled his left arm looked, and you felt like you were going to throw up.

Angus Tully was one step ahead of you in that department, and that’s all we should say about that (not that he nearly puked on you; if anyone ever says that, they’re lying and should be shot on sight).

So, that was how, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve-Eve, you came to be standing outside of your father’s shitty 1964 Nova. You and Angus, who was crying while wearing half of his jacket, were shivering violently, waiting for your father to scrape off the car.

“Hurry up!” Both you and him would beg.

“I am hurrying!” Would be your father’s only response, and you saw his face grow redder every time either of you would yell.

Luckily, he managed to (somehow) scrape it all off and you three piled into the car. Even though you were going to anyway, you father insisted you sit in the front (more than likely because he knew you and Angus would probably try to kill each other in a high tense situation, and who would’ve figured he was right).

“I was on thin ice already.” Your father panicked at you as he stepped on the gas to the hospital. “If Woodrup finds out, the facts won’t matter, he’ll make it my fault.”

“It is your fault!” Angus cried from the back of the car, trying to hold his mangled arm up. “You were supposed to be looking after me!”

“I told you to stop!”

“You said you washed your hands of me!”

“No, I meant it metaphorically!”

“Of course you meant it metaphorically. What were you gonna do, actually go and wash your hands?!”

Your father turned back to the road. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable, I said I will wash my hands, never once did I say it in the present tense!”

“I don’t know, Pontius Pilate.” You shrugged. “This Jesus guy makes a good point.”

When he hissed your real name, you nearly shrank into your seat. “I don’t need any more of this from you. You were the one to tell me he was faking it anyway!”

“You said that?!” Angus yelled. “Jesus, I knew you hated all men.”

“Not true.” You turned around to look at him. “I would’ve said the exact same thing about a woman, especially if I heard her screaming from your room!”

Out of all the times you made a man cry and left him speechless, this one was and forever will be your favorite (obviously he was crying from his arm, but you liked to think your comment also did that). Your father scolded you for your foul mouth, but it was 100% worth it.

There you three sat in the emergency room, waiting for over an hour for a nurse to let you in, when your father started monologuing to himself.

“This is the end. They’ll inform the school, who will inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You’re gonna get me fired; you.” He looked at Angus, then you. “I hope you like sleeping in the snow, Josephine.”

“I love it more than life itself.” You rolled your eyes.

Angus grumbled. “I’m the one about to lose an arm and all you can think about is yourself.”

“Hey, he was worried about me.” You pointed out.

He turned and glared at you, and you actually felt bad for the first time that day.

A nurse soon approached you, handing your father a clipboard and pen. “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.”

Your father, hesitantly, begins to fill it out. It sounded like a joke at first, having to sleep somewhere else, but honestly what were you going to do? You and your father lived in the faculty housing ever since-.

“-Excuse me?” Angus asked the nurse as she was walking away. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?”

“It’s just standard procedure.”

“I understand. But look, we were over at Squantz pond playing hockey, and I slipped on the ice.”

Your father whispered. “Angus, what are you doing?”

But he kept going, glancing at you for a moment. “Our mom told him not to take us, but I made him. Our folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.”

The nurse still didn’t let up. “Okay, that’s your business. But we just have certain protocols.”

“Yeah, protocols.” Your father tried to warn.

Angus didn’t listen to either. “Please, we ever get to see my dad. It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He looked at you. “We can’t have her dragging him to court again.”

You shook your head, swallowing a pretend lump in your throat. “No. Last time was…oh god.”

He looked back at the nurse. “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?”

What a sucker; it took you and Angus to do ‘Kicked Puppy” eyes for a minute, and she was brining the three of you in to the see the doctor in three.

When they were removing his shirt, they told him first look away from the arm, but they didn’t inform you.

“Is it that bad?” He asked upon hearing your audible disgust.

“Not the worst thing I’ve seen in a hospital.”

Your father slugged you, but not hard enough for it to hurt. Still, the whole thing was a blur as they popped Angus’ arm back into its socket. It was dislocated, not broken, and a part of you selfishly wish that it had been just to spare you from the disgusting noises. That and also Angus’s screaming, as if you hadn’t been objectified to that enough.

The three of you were leaving after Angus' arm was tied in a sling, when your father spoke up.

“Barton men don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Angus asked, readjusting his sling.

"Lie."

“Well, I had momentum.”

“Mhm,” he looked at you. “what’s your excuse?”

You shrugged. “I don’t go to Barton, and I’m not a man. Thank God, by the way, considering I hate all of them.”

Even though you said that sarcastically, neither of the men said you were wrong.

When you three made it to the pharmacy, and your father handed over the prescription, the pharmacist went to search for it. Angus lowered his voice, saying to your dad.

“You said that if Woodrup finds out, you and her screwed. So now he won’t find out.”

“What if your parents ask?” You questioned.

“Never going to happen. Trust me.”

Your father raised his brows. “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?”

“Oui, monsieur.” He smirked “Now you owe me.”

“Owe you?” Your father gasped. “Do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.”

“All I’m looking for is little thank you that I did something nice for you. That’s all.”

You shrugged, deciding you wanted a treat too. “It is Christmas Eve-Eve.”

Your father took you all out to ‘The Winning Ticket’; the classiest tavern within 50 miles. Classy being the less dingy, place in Barton. As your father and ‘Friend of Some Sort’ had a minor debate on underage drinking, you saw the last waitress you wanted approach.

“Miss Crane, as I live and breathe.” Your father sounded amazed as if he saw Aphrodite herself. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hi guys!” She laughed “Yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Well uh,” he gestured to Angus. “This is Mr. Tully.” Then to you beside him. “And this is-you already know my daughter.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “quite well. My niece knows her too if you can believe that.”

He laughed a little louder than he should have, and you wanted to crawl under the table and bang your head against the metal support until you split your skull open.

“Oh, and sure, I know you.” Miss Crane nodded to Angus.

“Angus Tully,” he smiled. “we met outside of Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”

“Well, I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part. I just know that miss Hunham talks a lot about you when she visits.”

Aaand now you wanted to just take any of the silverware off the table (even the spoon would work) and stab yourself.

“Does she?” He teased.

You were quick with a comeback. “About how ridiculously annoying you are. I was baking cookies and Elise nearly crawled into the oven because the things I said about you were just too horrible for her to hear.”

“Now be nice.” Your father said.

“When have I never?”

The three of you ordered (after another discussion about alcohol and underage drinking with Miss Crane this time), and it did not escape you or Angus how your father’s eyes were still on her even after she left.

“Ouch,” Angus smiled. “you two have chemistry.”

“That’s the Percodan talking.” Your father pointed out.

“I don’t know, seeing her like this, I think she’s pretty attractive.”

You gagged, not even having the will to come up with a good comeback, you were so disgusted. Thankfully, your father had one.

“Listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.”

You never gave it much thought; your father dating women after your mother died. He just never truly seemed that interested in anyone, and he said it himself, he never goes out. Still…while you do want him to be happy, the woman of interest is your best friend’s aunt-.

Angus pursed his lips. “May I at least go to the bathroom? Sir? “

“You mean the payphone?” Even when he saw Angus’ eyes darken, your father still was not stirred. “Jo March, accompany him, please.”

You sighed. “Why do I have to be his keeper?”

“Because I, Pontius Pilate, washed my hands of him, remember?”

With that being said, you walked with Angus over to the bathrooms, and waited outside with your arms crossed like a child being punished. After a few minutes, he came back out, and the first thing you asked was.

“How’d you lie so easily?”

He gave you a look. “When?”

“The hospital.” You clarified. “You came up with a whole story on the spot that was so convincing, you had a nurse wrapped around your finger within a minute.”

Angus shrugged, beginning to walk away. “You were honestly the icing on the cake.”

“Oh, thank you.” You spoke with sarcasm, following him. “But honestly, you-.”

“-Are you any good at pinball?”

Okay mister ‘Trying to Change the Subject’, you’d play this game (literally and figuratively). “Yeah, I think so.”

He grabbed two dimes from his pocket. “Wanna bet?”

“I guarantee you that’s all the money you have, so there’s nothing to bet.”

“Not exactly.” You both wandered over to the machines. “If I win, you owe me something, and vice versa.”

“And if I wanted you to get out of my life?”

“Done and done, but only If you win, which you won’t.” He put the dimes on top of the machine a guy was playing on.

“Sorry, kid. Next game’s taken.” The many said.

Angus furrowed his brow. “But I just put some dimes down.”

“Don’t care. My buddy’s up next.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“That’s how it works in here. Why don’t you go shoot the other fuckin’ machine?”

“Because I don’t want to shoot the other fuckin’ machine.”

You put your hand on his non-injured arm. “Angus, it’s fine.”

Before he could retaliate, the man lost the game, sighing. “Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo. Kenny! You’re up.”

“Bullshit.” Angus shook his head. “I put my dimes down, so we’re up next.”

“What was that?” You both looked and saw ‘Kenny’, a drunk man with a hook for his right hand. Shit… “Hey, kiddies,” he snapped his fingers at the both of you. “my eyes are up here.”

His friend snorted. “Look at these fucking kids; spoiled little Barton boy and his prissy girlfriend.”

Not the first nor the last time you were a smartass to a man where it will almost get you killed. “I’ll have you know, gentlemen, he is not my boyfriend; he is the reason I hope every day I become an only child.”

“You know what?” Angus stepped in before Kenny could respond. “You can just take my dime.”

“Take it?” He taunted. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?”

“No, what I mean is, we could play together.” and let this be known that Angus Tully was not always great at thinking on his feet. “Yeah, you could be my left arm.”

“The fuck did you just say to me?!”

Flinching at his tone, you decided to actually use your brain, for once. “Oh my gosh, I think I hear Dad calling us.” You took Angus’ hand without thinking. “Come on Fitzwilliam, you fucked everything up as always.”

You didn’t care that two, pissed off men were following and yelling at you, you didn’t even care that you were holding Angus’ Tully’s hand and having him trip over his own feet as you pulled him back to your table, you just needed to get out of there.

“Papa,” you call out to your father. “can we go please?”

He hummed at your arrival (and the term of endearment, which you only use if something has gone array). “Why?”

“Our favorite asshole got us in trouble.”

“Hey!” Kenny shouted at you and Angus. “Why’d you run off? We were just talking to you. Do they teach you manners at that school?”

Hook for hand be damned, your fight or flight instincts kicked in when he put his hand on Angus and you were about to be the reason he’d lose it. Then, Miss Crane stepped in.

“Kenneth, leave them alone, they just came in for some food.”

Still, he looked like he was about to charge the both of you.

Your father stepped in next. “Kenneth, is that right? I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you. It’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentlemen something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.”

“The what?” The first guy playing pinball asked.

“The dodo,” Angus said. “it’s an extinct bird.”

“What he’s trying to say is,” Miss Crane translated. “he wants to buy you guys a beer.”

It didn’t take long for the two men to consider it. Kenny nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Same here.” His friend agreed. “I’ll have a Miller.”

“The champagne of beers.” Angus smiled, nodding.

It was when everything final cooled down, and as the two men and Miss Crane left to get their drinks, did you notice you were still holding Angus’ hand. Which you let go of as if you were holding fire in the palm of your hand.

He went back to his moody self after that, as you were walking back to the car after finishing dinner (no connection of course).

“Why’d you buy those guys beer? They’re assholes.”

Your father shrugged. “That’s one way to look at it. Here, catch.”

He tossed him the keys, which he caught. Your father continued his lecture, walking ahead of both of you. “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off? Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam. They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”

Angus glanced at you. “Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb.” Your father repeated his words when they stood outside the car.

“Were you ever in the military?”

“Yes, I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected-I have to get in over there.” He said after failing to open the door on the driver’s side. He walked over to the passenger’s (which you begrudgingly allowed Angus to have this time) side that Angus unlocked. “They made me an air raid warden. Gave me a whistle and everything. Helmet. Arm band.”

You opened the back door and slid into the seats, but Angus stayed outside, asking. “Before we get going, can I be candid with you?”

Your father already was used to that question from you, so he didn’t even look scared when he hummed his approval.

“You smell.” He got into the car. “And it’s really noticeable toward the end of the day. I even smell it on your coat. Mind if I crack the window?”

He didn’t even wait for his response before rolling the window down anyway. Before you could say something snarky to defend your father, he spoke first. “Trimethylaminuria.”

Angus furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Trimethylaminuria.” He repeated. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell. And uh, yes, more toward the end of the day.”

“Wow…your whole life?”

Your father nodded.

“No wonder you’re afraid of women.” Angus said your name, glancing back at you. “How did he marry your mom?”

Your jaw dropped, and only inaudible noises came out at first before you settled on. “I’m too sober for that conversation.”

“For the record,” Your dad interrupted, stunned. “I am not afraid of women, and you shouldn’t be asking a girl personal questions after insulting her father. Jesus.”

Angus nodded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Dr. Getler says I should give more consideration to my audience.”

“Who’s Dr. Getler?” You asked.

“My shrink.”

Your father decided to jump in. “Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good swift kick in the ass?

He scoffed. “Okay, now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?”

“Sure, just one thing.”

“Just one?” You and your father questioned.

He nodded, preparing for the absolute worst, but it never came. Your father merely turned back to the front, started the car, and began to make the long drive back to Barton. You weren’t even out of the neighborhood when Angus then asked.

“Fitzwilliam?” He looked at you. “What kind of name is that?”

Your father snickered. “That’s what you called him?”

You shrugged. “The guys thought he was a stuck-up rich boy, but he’s really awkward and looks like he wants to kill himself every time someone looks at him, I had to.”

“He strikes me more as a Hamlet.”

To anyone who didn’t know anything about Shakespeare, that would be a compliment. To you and your father specifically, it made you laugh. Of course Angus Tully would be one of the most overdramatic characters in theatre.

“Seriously,” the boy in question said tiredly. “who the hell is Fitzwilliam?”

Your father shook his head. “My advice, Mr. Tully? Brush up on the classics; Pride and Prejudice would be a good place to start.”

None of you had the strength to do much more that night besides spending time in your rooms before bed. It was as you were a few chapters into Little Women, did you wonder.

“Why were you and my dad yelling at each other this afternoon?”

Angus looked up from his copy of Popular Mechanics to see you in the doorway once you asked that question. You both were both just wearing your pajamas and socks; outfits you had only seen each other in for either a short number of times, in dimmed lighting, or with jackets over.

It felt different this time…stranger, even.

“Hello to you too.” He greeted, setting the magazine down.

“Well?”

Pursing his lips, he didn’t look at you at first before saying. “I was calling a hotel.”

“Your mom’s?”

“No, one in Boston.”

“Why would you…?” The look on his face said it all. That look of regret and pity that you didn’t understand what he meant right away. “Oh…”

You wanted nothing more than to have said it with disgust, but it was disappointment that laced the word. Then, with a mix of anger and even hurt.

“Am I that insufferable to be around?”

He shot his head up. “What? No.”

“Seems like it.” You scoffed, beginning to pace around the room. “What happened to ‘Friends of some sort’? I asked you if we were fine because I felt like you’d gone quiet, and you said we were. I get it; you asked me to tell you the craziest thing that happened to me, and I should’ve just said ‘I got slightly drunk at a party’, not everything. You barely tell me anything about yourself, and then I just go and throw out the shittiest things that have happened to me. It’s not fair, and I’m sorry-.”

“-My father’s dead.”

Nothing could’ve gotten you to shut up faster.

It caused you such a shock, that you sat down on the bed beside him, staring at him. His gaze changed in a matter of seconds; when he first told you and you looked at him, you’d never seen anyone surer. Then, as shock settled into you, discomfort did for him. You let the quietness between you linger for a moment, terrified of your own response.

“I…I had a feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were expecting him to immediately respond, but he didn’t. You debated on just sitting in the silence, or crawling back into your room and pretending this didn’t happen, when Angus finally spoke up.

“I was thirteen, he was…really, really sick for some time but then it just happened so fast and…I don’t really like talking about it, I’m sorry-.”

“-No, I shouldn’t have pressured you-.” You relented first, and ff the circumstances weren’t bleak, it would be funny how you both spoke over each other.

“-You weren’t, you told me something about yourself and I should’ve-.”

“-You aren’t in debt or some bullshit to share anything with me-.”

“-I just haven’t really told people that before-.”

“-Your arm wasn’t the worst thing I saw in a hospital.” You decided to break the loop, and it was successful. “My mother was sick too and…” You chuckled, but felt tears prick your eyes all of a sudden at the thought. “God, she’ll haunt me for this, but she was so skinny the last time I saw her…Cancer. She and my dad were debating on if I should see her like that before she goes, and I won the argument in the end that, yes, I needed to say goodbye. I’m glad I did, no, that’s not what I think of when I think of her but…it scared me. I was eleven.”

He nodded, listening without interruption; a skill that seemed he only acquired during these small moments of vulnerability. Well, you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself vulnerable; you were merely answering his questions truthfully based on your experiences (of course; no vulnerability whatsoever. You didn’t open yourself up to others outside of your father and Mary, why would you to Angus Tully?)

“I went to the chapel before anyone else woke up and I just couldn’t stop staring at the picture of Curtis Lamb…I can’t even say it got me thinking about death or anything like that I just…I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I felt weird and wanted to run away.”

“I get that.”

“I’m sorry for trying to get a hotel by the way,” he apologized again. “if that matters.”

You gave him a smile. “It does.”

For the first time in a while, you thought you saw him smile too; a genuine one, mind you, not the shit-eating grin he often gave you and everyone else. It was then you decided to get up and head to bed, bidding him goodnight. Then, again, you stopped in the doorway from another thought.

“What were you going to call me?”

“Huh?” He perked his head up.

“When you were crying about being stuck over here for Christmas?” You alluded. “You and my father are losers, Mary’s a grieving mom, but what am I?”

His eyes drifted in thought, then back to you. “‘Your know-it-all daughter.’ That’s what I was gonna say.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling as you backed out into your room. “I do know all, Angus Tully.”

You couldn’t see his face anymore when you went to your bed, but you heard his sarcastic ‘Goodnight’ with him saying your full name, and your chest felt lighter than it did the night prior to talking with him.

…What the hell was happening to you?

You were giddy, you giggled to yourself about nothing and had to hide your mouth under the blanket so Angus wouldn’t hear you in the other room. For a moment, when asking him what he would’ve called you, you wanted him to say ‘pretty’. So much shit happened that day, but the one thing, the one thing that your mind goes back to is taking his hand, and not letting go until you realized-…

…No…

No…

Oh, what the fuck?!

Oh god!

Once you were happy about having a newfound crush on Angus Tully, and now you were in absolute agony.

What a wonderful way to spend Christmas Eve-Eve.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #paul hunham #mary lamb #the holdovers #Youtube

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astriddestelle · 8 months

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Lol so here’s another unpopular opinion about a ten year old show no one care about.

First of all the show hasn’t aged well but it’s still fun. But omg Sam Manson is like the worst.

It’s so sad because I remember being obsessed with her she was like my fave but now I can’t stand her.

Her whole thing is just look how different I am. I’m not like the other girls. Which I get is a product of its time but wow.

She always brings up how unique and different she is and omg I get it already. You don’t wear makeup congrats, let other girls live their lives how they want.

Maybe it’s cause I’m not like ten anymore but idk I don’t like her like that anymore 😭 I thought she was so cool but she almost had Mary Sue vibes with how awesome/cool/perfect she is in some episodes and how she’s almost always right.

He should’ve ended up with Valerie they would’ve been a cute couple (once she got over her beef 🤣)

Not to mention she’s a hypocrite and always tells Danny not to use his powers for his own gains, but when it’s for her own gains it’s cool. Spies on him but gets mad when he spies on her.

Then it felt like she only liked Danny cause he had powers and it made him unique like what (obviously not true but it felt like it at times)

She’d also bag on other girls just living their lives. Yes Paulina was a bitch but sometimes she’d just be existing and Sam would have some shit to say.

Oh and being rude af and jealous of Jazz when she joined the team his own sister. Idk bout y’all if my friend treated my siblings the way she did it’d be a problem.

Ugh. The problems of getting older. I’ve found myself tolerating the snarky/rude character less and less as I’ve gotten older.

Like why are you so rude for no reason.

Grayghost will always be superior to Amethyst Ocean in my eyes.

Not trying to debate so if you wanna reblog and talk to yourself go ahead. Idc

This is just a random ass mini rant after rewatching an old cartoon that I’ll prob forget about it in like a day.

Sidenote; I love Jazz now, hated her as a kid. Funny how things change.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #Sam Manson is annoying #gray ghost #amethyst ocean #valerie gray #Danny/Valerie #danny x sam #danny x valerie

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vivelareine · 6 days

Note

I’m really sorry that people jump to conclusions about you being a royalist. You seem to be quite nice and your posts are informative.

And it’s true that clergy and aristocracy at large benefitted from the rigged system. Also apparently the economy was already screwed up before, but Frev just had this specific set of precursor circumstances that lit up the powder keg, which was going to blow up eventually.

There is definitely a discussion to be had about all the nuances here, as Frev is a complicated subject.

Thank you! People can be... something, that's for certain.

I love nuanced discussions! I think they're especially fascinating when it comes to this era.

Like I love the fact that we can discuss how Marie Antoinette was personally charitable and kind, but that her personal charity and kindness existed in this almost incomprehensible vacuum of extreme wealth vs poverty.

To use an example I talked about on Twitter, there was an assistant gardener for the hameau de la reine who became ill shortly after being hired, and Marie Antoinette ended up spending almost 2000 livres (a hefty sum--the annual salary of the head gardener was considered a respectable 1500 livres per year, with room and board) on his medical care alone. When it became clear he would not regain his health, she paid for him to return home to England, with a large sum so he could set himself up somewhere.

This assistant gardener's annual salary, had he stayed to work at Versailles? 50 livres, which did include room and board, but still, 50 livres per year.

Now to take an EXTREME example, the infamous bracelets that Marie Antoinette purchased and her mother harassed her over cost 250,000 liveres. It would take 5000 years of this assistant gardener's salary to buy a pair of bracelets that she purchased on a whim. (Now this is an EXTREME example, because everyone considered these bracelets horrendously expensive and extravagant, and it was purchased during her short yet very significant 'wilder' days.)

So it's this fascinating contrast of, her being personally kind and thinking nothing of making sure he had medical care and personally seeing to it that he's not just kicked out of France with nothing and no way to live... and realizing that this personal kindness and compassion existed within this system of massive inequality.

It reminds me of the scene in Ever After (listen I will use any excuse to bring the movie up) where Danielle-in-disguise, after the prince frees the servant from the cart taking them to be indentured servants until they die: "You gave one man back his life, but did you even glance at the others?"

And not in the sense that I think Marie Antoinette would have been like "free this one man!" and ignored everyone else, but the sense that she gave charity, compassion, cared for others, paid for the upkeep of various families and watched over their children's well-being etc etc on a personal level... but she did not comprehend the need for systematic change outside of that very limited scope.

Re; Nuance...

Nuance gets lost a lot, on both sides.

IMO, I don't think people should expect to be taken seriously when talking about history if they are either huffing and puffing about Marie Antoinette being a bitch tyrant who got what she deserved, or if they're wringing their hands and saying Louis was perfect and the revolutionaries were devil worshipers who are burning in hell for daring to revolt.

(And like, I GET... if you just glance at my blog, you might go, oh wow, this person is really Marie Antoinette themed. Must be one of those people who thinks her life was the Sofia Coppola movie. But if you think that and you haven't bothered to read my blog or any of my social media, don't come up at me with some random BS like that and expect to be taken seriously. It's basic common sense and respect.)

#even the things that are horrendous (like Louis Charles abuse) need nuance. Not to excuse them but so that when you're studying #the history itself you understand the why and how it happens

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bitterkarella · 7 months

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Midnight Pals: Love on a Battlefield

Stephen King: guys did you hear there’s a video game campfire too? Mary Shelley: that sounds like some nerd shit King: no no there are lots of cool people there King: hideo kojima, sid meier, bob bates King: the 2 guys from andromeda Shelley: [cracking knuckles in anticipation]

Hideo Kojima: IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 19XX, MERCENERY GASEOUS SNAKE IS BROUGHT OUT OF RETIREMENT TO FIGHT THE REMNANTS OF THE WOLFDOG UNIT... Kojima: INCLUDING... Kojima: ROPE CHOKER, POISON EATER, TORPEDO LAUNCHER , AXE GRINDER, BOMB DETONATOR, AND DIPPY DOG

Kojima: do you think that love can bloom on a battlefield? Kojima: Kojima: yes... Kojima: even on a battlefield... Ken Williams: hey my girlfriend roberta and I saw you from across the bar and we’re really digging your vibe Williams: Can we buy you a drink?

Kojima: the villainous traitor bad boy has kidnapped dr good scientist and forced him to help build the ultimate weapon of mass destruction... Kojima: the metal gear... Kojima: it’s like a tank... Kojima: but it can move... Kojima: Kojima: But wait... Kojima: not with treads... Kojima: with legs...

[at Midnight Society] Hideo Kojima: I have an idea for a new video game... Kojima: About you! Stephen King: oh wow a game about us? that sounds pretty ok! Poe: yeah I’d be curious about this Kojima: the game is called ‘the association of Fire Story friends’ Kojima: a hideo kojima game... Kojima: written by hideo kojima... Kojima: produced by hideo kojima... Kojima: directed by hideo kojima... Kojima: catering by hideo kojima...

Kojima: The fire story friend association members names are... Kojima: Bird Scare.. Poe: Kojima: Clown daddy... King: Kojima: Knife Stabber... Mary Shelley: Kojima: Little Friend... Dean Koontz: Kojima: Cat Bitch... Clive Barker: Kojima: and Silly Racist... Lovecraft: Lovecraft: w-which one is me

Kojima: SUBMITTED FOR THE APPROVAL OF THE MIDNIGHT SOCIETY I CALL THIS THE TALE OF THE STORY FRIENDS... Kojima: IT IS A GAME WHERE THE GOAL IS NOT TO FIGHT... Mary Shelley: what the hell is this shit Thomas Disch: sh let him cook Disch: mr kojima in level 5 is there a way to escape the dungeon w/o the wizard‘s key? Shelley: shut UP nerd

Kojima: In this game, you play as clown daddy... Kojima: bird scare has given him an assignment... Kojima: he must tell a story without anyone hearing King: wow! incredible! King: hideo, once again you’ve redefined a genre!

Kojima: this story is also about how war is bad... King: whats the theme tho Kojima: Kojima: uh, its that war is bad... King: Koontz: Poe: Lovecraft: Barker: Kojima: perhaps this three hour cutscene will explain better...

Kojima: now this next story will be my last ever... Kojima: for real this time... King: aw really? Kojima: yes... King: King: really?

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #stephen king #clive barker #edgar allan poe #dean koontz #hp lovecraft #mary shelley #thomas disch #hideo kojima #ken williams

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shallowseeker · 10 months

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Sometimes, I obsess over season 5-6, because...from Dean's POV, Cas just upped n' left.

And there's just...so much stuff in 6x01. His neighbor Sid haunts me.

Dean is grieving and prickly, and he sits with Cas in the silence for hours as they drive together.

But then: Cas likes being called Heaven's new sheriff, and he's leaving, and--

So, Dean's ugly hurt feelings come out, and--

DEAN: Wow. God gives you a brand-new, shiny set of wings, and suddenly you're his bitch again. ... DEAN: Well, you really suck at goodbyes, you know that?

Cas struggles for words, licking his lips nervously, not entirely sure what's he done to upset Dean so badly. (He was trying to be funny, be lighthearted and indulge Dean’s “sheriff” talk!)

Aside// I love how freely they talk here. Very quickly, they move into an emotionally charged conversation. Dean freely releases his true feelings about the situation, something he will soon have to bottle up in suburbia.

///

I'm not special. I'm not even a friend. The Apocalypse is over, and Heaven's done with me. Cas is done with me. I lost Sam. That was the mission my father gave me. I want to die. There's no purpose left in my life.

///

And then, we move to Dean in early season 6, and we see him spending a lot of time with his neighbor, Sid, who shifts from moment to moment, representing everything from Dean’s old life. (Sam, Bobby, John, Cas--all rolled into one.)

And Sid seems genuinely nice. He and the neighbors seem to tiptoe around Dean, alerting Lisa of his mental state, as if they know he's emotionally fragile.

Dean even looks out across the street into Sid’s window, like he’s looking in on their married life. Perhaps, he’s wishing they were his mom and dad, or Sam n’ Jess, or Bobby n’ Karen—because in being in suburbia, he feels sundered from his extended family.

Dean seems to feel like an outsider. (It’s strange, too, like he might even be longing for what Sid and his wife have with each other??? We get Sid buying Dean beer followed by Sid bringing his wife a glass of wine. He loves Lisa. He wants to be connected, but he’s struggling.)

And here, in the bar scene, Sid’s wearing a dressy button-down. SID: "I've been buying you beers for a year:" -- SID: "You're practically respectable." -- SID: "Wow! Every time. What is it with you?" -- DEAN: "It's like chicks dig unavailable guys."

This is not just about the waitress who scribbled her number on Dean's receipt. It's about Dean himself.

He digs unavailable guys. He's missing his old life, his family, his brother, and...the unavailable soldier, Cas.

It calls to mind Dean’s later lamentation to Cas, “I was there. Where were you?”

///

Later in the episode, the manifestation of his subconscious refers to Cas as "sugar."

Azazel: Yeah, kiddo. The big daddy brought your pal Cas back, right? So why not me? Add a little spice to all that -- that sugar. DEAN shoots AZAZEL.

///

And then, when Sam returns, Dean is chomping at the bit for news of Cas:

Dean: What do you mean you don't know? Sam: I mean, no idea. I-I'm just back. Dean: Well, was it God, or -- or -- or Cas? I mean, does Cas know anything about it? Sam: You tell me. I've been calling. Cas hasn't answered my prayers. I don't even know where he is.

///

Poor Dean.

At home, he's hypervigilant, checking everything, and staring out across the yard at Sid and his wife, which shifts to become echoey specter of John and Mary, as they die.

Sid brings his wife a glass of wine, a bit of a higher-class parallel to how Carmen brings Dean beer in season 2’s What is and Should Never Be. (Also, Sid was buying Dean alcohol earlier. Now, he treats his wife.) They smile at one another, and then the djinn strikes.

Sid grabs a CHAIR on his way down. His wife grabs a LAMP. "Dean, they're already dead and you know it."

There's just something about it.

His old life and longings are reflected in this Sid character, morphing from moment to moment. He feels disconnected--he misses Bobby, he missed his little brother, he wants a friend who's unavailable, and he wants his mom and dad to be safe and alive and happy. He wants an integrated life.

This strange, incomplete happiness feels like exile.

#spn 6x01 #spn exile on main street #dean + beautiful loser #spn 5x22 #spn swan song

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bradshawsbaby · 1 year

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Piggie backing off that other anon, I feel like for more of a fluffy church fic, I mean most of the ones I’ve seen are smut (no shame at all) Reader could meet Bradley while re-lighting some of the candles that accidentally got blown out, then see each other at the hard deck..meet cute but make it “grief is a bitch”.

Not that I met my husband while I re-lit candles and he asked (I shit you not, in a CHURCH) wow, were you in some sort of house fire? Science experiment gone wrong?” (Joke but still) it sounds pretty rooster coded honestly.

I also feel like Hangman makes a bunch of “innocent church girl” jokes and reader throws a drink in his face, cause given the chance, no matter how much you are in love with Hangman, you’d throw a drink in his face 😂

Okay, first of all, how come I’ve never had a meet cute while lighting candles at church?!

Secondly, I thought this was a really cute concept, so I decided to write a little drabble about it! Quick fun fact: I chose Mary, Star of the Sea as the church in this little story because it’s where I went to Mass when I was in San Diego. It’s such a pretty little church!

Today wasn’t the first day he’d seen you.

For the past few months, ever since he’d returned to San Diego, Bradley had been periodically taking a drive over to La Jolla and stopping in at Mary, Star of the Sea, the small, peaceful church where he’d taken to lighting candles for his parents. He found the trip calming, especially when he was having a bad day, and so he didn’t mind going out of his way to get there.

Though he didn’t plan it intentionally, he began to notice that you were often there at the same time he was, slipping quietly into a pew to say a few silent prayers, or lighting some candles of your own. The two of you never spoke, even when you were the only two people in the church, but you would sometimes catch his eye and offer him a small smile or a nod on your way out the door.

He’d be lying if he said the thought of your pretty face wasn’t one of the reasons he didn’t mind going out of his way to visit Mary, Star of the Sea instead of one of the many churches that were closer to home.

Today was his parents’ wedding anniversary, and he was feeling the sting of grief particularly hard. He hadn’t even necessarily been conscious of what he was doing that morning when he grabbed his keys and hopped into the Bronco, but before he knew it, he was standing on the front steps of Mary, Star of the Sea and gazing up at the Spanish mission style bell tower.

The church was empty when he arrived, the hallowed walls cool and inviting as he walked quietly down the center aisle before veering off towards a small nook where several rows of candles sat waiting.

“Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad,” he whispered reverently as he lit two candles, one for Goose and one for Carole. Turning and ducking into the nearest pew, he lowered his head and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to force back the tears that threatened to start falling.

It was then that he heard the soft rustle of movement and glanced up to see that he was no longer alone—you were here again. Wearing a pretty yellow sundress that reminded him of the California sunshine, you had your head bowed slightly as you lit two candles, just a few spots down from where he had lit his.

Bradley didn’t mean to stare, didn’t mean to intrude upon your privacy, but he couldn’t help it. You were just so lovely, and he felt drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain. He noticed that your lips were moving silently, and then caught the single tear that spilled down your cheek.

Compelled, he quickly rose from his pew and reached into his pocket for the clean tissue he’d just grabbed that morning. “Excuse me?” he murmured gently, not wanting to startle you. He held out his small offering as you turned your head.

“Oh,” you gasped, clearly surprised. “Thank you,” you added politely, taking the tissue from him and quickly dabbing at your cheek. “That was very sweet of you.” You hesitated a moment, biting your lip, then added, “I’ve seen you here before.”

Bradley nodded, smiling softly. “I like to stop in when I can. It’s peaceful here.”

You smiled as well, nodding in understanding. “It is,” you agreed. Raising a curious brow, you indicated the two candles lit near yours and glanced up at him.

“It’s my parents’ anniversary,” Bradley explained, not feeling shy about telling you why he was there. “They’re both passed now, and I was thinking of them today.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” you replied softly, glancing downward for a moment. “It’s my grandparents’ anniversary today,” you explained, indicating your own candles. “My grandma passed away last year, and my grandpa followed a few months later. It’s their first anniversary with them both gone.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, too,” Bradley murmured, feeling a sense of connection to you, a kindred kind of loss.

“I’m sure that they’re happy we’re here to remember them,” you smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“I think so, too,” Bradley grinned, his heart feeling lighter than it had that morning. He paused for a moment, his pulse starting to race, but then said, “Hey, um, there’s this good little coffee shop around the corner that I sometimes go to when I’m here. Would you maybe want to go with me? My treat.”

Your eyes lit up, and Bradley thought his heart might just explode. “I would really love that.”

“I’m Bradley, by the way,” he introduced himself, offering you his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Bradley,” you beamed, slipping your hand into his as you told him your name. “I’m glad you took the drive out to La Jolla to come here.”

Smiling over at the four candles the two of you had lit, Bradley nodded. “Me, too.”

#rooster drabble #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun: maverick #miles teller #anon message

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bella-rose29 · 11 days

Text

episode 5 commentary - Death Is Coming

the usual warnings of swearing and lack of context, as well as a lot of comments on hands and arms and obviously spoilers for both the series and the books

girl has stare down with a skull in a jar

omg it's been so long since I watched and I forgot how pretty lockwood is

OMG HE ASKS IF SHE WANTS JUICE

WHAT IF THE JUICE IS ORANGE AND HAS BITS IN

lolllll George is shipping already and the episode only just started

Georgie needs more sleep

lockwood takes the Mum Stance

I always think that the DEPRAC van is a lego van bc it's yellow

ohhh you can really see how big the coat is on lockwood :(((

ooo nice detail with the lavender pin that he has

'wILL yOu cAN iT pAm'

hands

ugh Lockwood's so pretty

Georgie noo

'bobby Vernon will have been at it since dawn'

'alarming how quickly you got into character' (code for: I am completely in love with you')

careful Georgie that's a lot of blood

ew dead body

'I know him' YOU CAN SEE HOW UPSET HE IS BUT HE'S GONNA HIDE IT BC HE FEELS THE NEED TO BE STRONG ALL THE TIME

I JUST WANNA GIVE HIM A HUG

CAMERON CHAPMAN THE MAN YOU ARE HOW DO YOU DO THE MICRO EXPRESSIONS SO WELL

ohhh lockwood is trying so hard to not be upset and it breaks my heart :((( poor boy

✨swagger✨

I want an epic breakfast

'I hardly knew him' BOY DON'T-

wow she's a bitch let my boy do research

get away from Georgie you bitch

eeeeeee

'when am I not nice' Luce I hate to break it to you

Lucy that is very clearly a ghost and not a real baby

silly goose behaviour

'I did' QUEEN

'who's the latest slapper?' ICONIC

'oh wow, a female serial killer? aspirational, why don't you stick it on a t-shirt'

I love lockwood bc he makes sure the remains go to a good home AND Flo gets her money

ohhhh I just had a Thought! what if one of the reasons they made Joplin a woman was to draw parallels between her and Mary dulac??? one of the headlines on the papers is 'mystery madwoman: Bickerstaff connection?' so maybe they wanted to repeat the past but this time make the crazy one go too far and die? idk if that even makes sense but oh well

Georgie noooo

no leave him alone

let him go clean the oven and I'll be there to make him a tea

WIFE BEHAVIOUR

he can't even slice toast without being Extra

JONATHAN BESTIEEEEE

'a suicide note' Lucy honey have you noticed that your bf has a tendency for suicidal things

I really wish the bisto was in the background bc that would be hilarious

'I thought you'd be dead by now' NO LETS TAKE A MOMENT TO TALK ABOUT THIS

BECAUSE HE GOES FROM QUIRKING A LIL SMILE, TO LOOKING DOWN AND THE SMILE DISAPPEARING, TO INHALING AND SMILING EVEN WIDER BECAUSE HE KNOWS LUCY IS WATCHING HIM

give that boy some therapy for free

aw two nerds talking about mythology (I wish I was the other one)

also can we talk about the STAGING OF THIS SCENE??? BECAUSE JOPLIN HAS A MIRROR OVER HER LEFT SHOULDER AND GEORGE HAS ONE OVER HIS RIGHT

also George has the city lights behind him and Joplin just has the beige walls and I love that for some reason, maybe to show that George's life is bright and he's got life left in him whereas Joplin can only gain brightness from George bc she needs him for the mirror? idk if I'm explaining that right but oh well! also Joplin's mirror reflects the light behind George which is funky

just you wait for my next analysis of the show which is almost certainly gonna be on the use of mirrors lol

THE STAGING AGAIN

FILMING THEM IN THE MIRRORS

I LOVE THIS GHOST SHOW

'how did you meet Flo?' 'can't remember. ages ago' LOL HE'S HIDING THE FACT HE GOT HIS ASS BEATEN

ohhh the green lighting

'I'm not worried. are you?' well not when you say it like that

while I do love this show I am very sad we didn't see more of lockwood using disguises

of course he knows how to pick locks

I don't like it either Lucy dw

I love how jarringly innocent the stuffed bear is compared to the fact that they're in the warehouse of a family with a significantly traumatised boy

lockwood and kids <3

sack of potatoes

I cannot stop thinking about the fact that she must be dragging the Actual Cameron Chapman out by his feet

Georgie noooooo

idk why he's looking around bc he doesn't have his glasses on so he can't see shit

I shouldn't feel the way I do about lockwood regaining consciousness but the expressions- I just- hmm

'I'm a burglar, you should call the police' honey not one of your better lies

no bc why when I first watched this did I think that winkman was the same actor as Pekka Rollins

winkman: 'shall I draw some pretty pictures on your pretty little face'

lockwood: 'omg you think I'm pretty?? 🤭🥰'

ohhh I'm getting inspiration for a fic I started planning 👀

I can't imagine having to pretend you're being electrocuted like how do you know how to act that

I feel like something can be said about Leopold wearing red and mrs winkman (I forgot her first name WAIT ADELAIDE) also wearing red but idk what

omg hedgehogwood

winkman is actually so funny *points at lockwood* *puts hand over heart* 'ohhh' he's literally us

aw lockwood pls don't say that she's got more to live for than you :(((

omg Lucy tells Leopold to get out the way <333 she'll regret that :D

this couple loves setting fires

Georgie seriously how are you without your glasses rn

green light green light green light

funny looking bird you got there george

'total psychos' dude-

'I prefer to call it a noble sacrifice' NO I COULD WRITE AN ESSAY ABOUT IT

greeeeeeen lightssssss

'what is going on with you' Cameron Chapman Acts his Fucking Face Off

omg lockwood saw the knife and then looked out the door to see what was there

that's such an awful angle to be lying down

omg poor lockwood

the way he's sat in that final frame breaks my heart bc he's literally just had someone else die in his home :(((

wow what a depressing note to end on

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #belle's episode commentaries

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pikahlua · 2 years

Text

Katsuki’s trading card is Ruined and Izuku is mad about it: Wait a fucking minute is that the Second’s quIRK-?

Whacha lookin’ at, Izuku?

The card.

He’s looking at the card.

HE’S LOOKING AT THE CARD.

He has no way of knowing who is “dead” or not. He just sees everyone down basically. Mirio’s the one who spills the beans, but it’s AFTER Izuku’s wild reaction.

What the fuck is going on?

Oh you bet Mirio’s your ass I have an idea.

Katsuki had a plan

I maintain that Katsuki did not go in for a Hail Mary shot just because he got a quirk boost. He fucking knew what he was doing. Maybe he didn’t know if he’d take damage, maybe he did or didn’t plan to get hit, but he KNEW what the FUCK he was TRYING TO DO.

And Monoma’s reaction is my meta evidence.

TELL ME THAT BLASTY KID SUDDENLY CHANGED HIS ENTIRE PERSONALITY AND THREW OUT HIS CHARACTER ARC. GO ON. I FUCKING DARE YOU.

Dis bitch.

He only went into action after THAT THING HAPPENED.

“That thing” being:

1. Tomura was touching him

2. Tomura said the names of All Might, Izuku Midoriya, and Katsuki Bakugou while touching Katsuki

Katsuki is key to the plan to defeat Tomura

I was catching onto the pros’ weird behavior over Katsuki’s life quite a few chapters ago.

Yes, of course Aizawa cares about his student, but his wording in this scene is...weird. He immediately calls for Izuku’s whereabouts the second Tomura acknowledges the closeness between Izuku and Katsuki. Suddenly everyone is treating Katsuki like glass.

Edgeshot in particular said something that caught my attention.

“A life we can ill afford to lose.”

Sure, there is something to be said for the theme of heroes who are strangers to Katsuki finally acting like heroes and saving him when they really fucking should save him. But like...wow. I’m sure Edgeshot has had plenty of opportunities to save random civilians by sacrificing his own life, but he didn’t. He saved that last resort for this moment in spite of all his years working as a hero. What was so special about this particular life? What if Izuku, who apparently is key in their plan to defeat Tomura, dies too? Why wouldn’t Edgeshot save his power for the life that could potentially save the most lives?

Unless that’s exactly what he did.

From chapter 367:

"Right now, Edgeshot is taking life-saving measures for Bakugou-kun!! He will definitely be successful! We're fighting [based on] that premise!! We haven't lost anything yet! We aren't giving up!"

Isn’t this an interesting way for Mirio to put it? “We are fighting on that premise” and “we haven’t lost anything yet,” huh? Even if Edgeshot may be lost, they haven’t lost anything?

What if Izuku is freaking out because without Katsuki their plan (to save Tomura) can’t possibly succeed anymore?

Look at the focus placed on that card!

Where’s All Might?

Where the fUCK IS-?

...

FUCK.

Consider this

Katsuki goes in for...something. Something to forward their plan. Maybe to touch Tomura? Because he’s fast enough and can predict his movements for a moment? It doesn’t matter. He goes in.

He doesn’t plan on getting hit.

In fact, the only reason he gets hit is because, unexpectedly, TomurAFO senses a threat and panics. His survival instincts kick in.

As a result, he lands a hit on Katsuki right in the chest.

But.

We also see this at the SAME TIME Katsuki’s heart takes damage.

Either he knows he’s about to die.

Or.

He knows he’s about to lose his card, which suddenly is important when we the readers had no idea it was still important.

Tomura hit Katsuki with a deadly blow. He also ruined the card.

But what else did we see on that page?

Izuku has the same card.

The Second’s magical vanishing gauntlet

Why does the Second only have one gauntlet in these flashbacks when he has two in the vestige realm?

Maybe he gave the other to someone else.

Remember that Tomura has said All Might’s, Izuku’s, and Katsuki’s names?

What if the Second’s quirk creates connections between people based on their names...but the connection is maintained through paired objects?

What if Izuku was trying to use the Second’s quirk to get to UA faster because he also has his All Might card on hand.

He and Katsuki have the same trading card, and that would allow Izuku to activate the Second’s quirk to...get to Katsuki faster somehow.

Maybe All Might’s vestige IS IN THE CARD. Maybe it traveled to Katsuki via the Second’s quirk, and the cards are the travel points.

Maybe Katsuki and Izuku are trying to get one of the cards onto Tomura so they and/or All Might’s vestige can travel to Tomura’s vestige world.

And if Katsuki’s card is ruined, their plan can only now work if Katsuki somehow managed to meet the activation conditions of the Second’s quirk before the card was ruined. Or maybe ruining the card is PART of the activation conditions.

THE POINT IS

All Might’s vestige AND YOICHI, the FIRST and LAST vestiges in the OFA chain are currently unaccounted for!

KATSUKI’S CARD IS RUINED

AND IZUKU LOST IT OVER THAT

#my hero academia manga spoilers #I HAVE CONNECTED ALL THE DOTS WAY TOO MANY TIMES #meta #theory #second OFA user #second's quirk theory #katsuki bakugou #motherfuckin katsuki bakugou #izuku midoriya #get a fucking card sleeve you dweebs

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the-flaming-nightmare · 5 months

Text

Okay, so a couple days ago I rewatched the S3 episode of Lone Star where TK is in his hypothermia induced coma and we get to see what's going on in his head, and oh my GOD did it give me SUCH an amazing idea for an agere mulit-chapter fic!!!

Remember how in TK's coma dream he's back in his dad's house but with his mom and they bake cookies? And how TK tells Gwyn he'll always be her little boy, that he still is? Well Goddamn did all that get my writer brain going!

So, what if both Owen and Gwyn were there in TK's dream, and they were treating him like he was still a little boy? The way I'm picturing it is kind of like that episode of SPN when Sam and Dean go to heaven together and see each other's versions of it, and Dean has that one memory of Mary from when he was 3 or 4–dressed the part and being treated like a little boy despite him still looking and acting like his adult self to Sam and the viewers. That's how I imagine this going with TK.

He still looks like an adult and feels like one, and is incredibly confused by what's happening at first, but quickly begins to enjoy all their attention and babying. And soon, begins to feel like the little boy their treating him as. Like in the episode tho, it's Carlos speaking to him that still inevitably brings him back to waking reality.

However, almost as soon as they get the tube out of him, he's still panicking and begins to tearfully call for his mama and daddy. Carlos is freaking out but doing his best to calm him down before the nurses have to give him a sedative, reassuring him that he'll call and get his dad here as soon as possible, but in the end TK is too disoriented and scared, and at the doctor's order one of the nurses has to give him a mild sedative.

Carlos calls Owen as soon as TK is fully under the drugs affects and tells him he needs to get to the hospital quick, that TK woke up and was asking for him. By the time Owen arrives, TK is beginning to fight his way out of the sedative's clutches. As soon as he lays his eyes on Owen the waterworks start up all over again and he desperately reaches for him. Owen, while bewildered and worried, just rolls with it and does what any good father would: give his kid as much comfort as he needs.

Owen ends up climbing nto bed with TK (cautious of the cords and tubes still attached to him, of course), and TK eventually cries himself into an exhausted sleep in his arms. The doctor ends up making a return not long after that (Owen still in the bed, not daring to move and disturb his son's rest), and Owen immediately asks the burning question on both his and Carlos' mind; did TK suffer brain damage? The doctor tells the two of them that they can't know for certain until they run some tests on him, leaving Owen and Carlos to stress over the potential answer they'll receive in the next few hours.

As they'll soon find out, however, this has nothing to do with any physical damage to TK's brain, but instead has everything to do with his psyche.

I'm thinking that TK would probably stay regressed for most of the duration of the fic, but that even once he does start to come back to himself, he'll realize that while everything that's happened during that time feels embarrassing as all hell, it also feels right. Like something he's needed for a very long time, but just hadn't known until he got it.

Wow, hyperfixation really said, "Bitch you will write this shit. You may not know when, but you will."

Yet another idea saved in the backlog I keep in both my phone and brain lmaoooo. 😅🥲

#9-1-1: lone star #tk strand #owen strand #owen and tk #age regression #agere fandom #fic thoughts #thekingspeaks

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samaraannhan20 · 1 year

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Austin Butler Imagine: College AU! Stay At My Place

Warnings: College! reader, Agegap! (About 10 years), mentions of anxiety and depression

Roommates Suck:

It has not been a good week. Not in any sense of the term. Not that there was any reason for it not to be, really, besides the fact that Austin had been out of town for the past few weeks, but you two were calling each other every day, but it just wasn’t the same as being together. Today was really bad because it was the day of Lisa Marie’s funeral, and you hadn’t been able to talk to Austin because he was at the memorial and funeral. You wished you could have been there, but due to your college schedule, you had to stay at school. Today you were in an exceptionally bad mood, because you were mourning someone you had met a few times due to your relationship, but you had seen how close Austin was with her, and you knew he was also having an exceptionally bad day, and since you couldn’t help him it made you feel useless, and soured your mood. You had already spent the entire day in your bedroom, cleaning and organizing for the week to come. You had also done laundry, cleaned the bathroom, and done the apartment’s dishes, just to keep yourself busy while waiting for the phone call from Austin that was supposed to come this evening.

You had just finished your homework and turned on something on Netflix, when you heard your roommates welcome someone into the apartment. Oh no, you thought, realizing that they brought someone back without telling you. That always makes you super anxious, and you had been about to call Austin to head to bed, but you knew this was going to ruin that. Your heart started racing, and you tried to block them out, but it was no use. Just then you heard someone in the living room say “girls night” and that was it for you. You stood up, opened your door, and walked into the living room. You saw your roommate's friend sitting in a chair, and one of your roommates on the couch, while the other one stood in your kitchen heating water for tea. “Hey, Y/N,” the one on the couch said, and you shot a fake smile her way. “ Elizabeth is here,” she continues, pointing out the obvious. You turn and get water out of the fridge, acting like you had actually gone out there to do something, rather than just going out there to be a bitch. “We’re having a girls night?” you ask the roommate standing in the kitchen, trying to make it obvious you were slightly perturbed. “Yeah,” she said shooting a smile back at you. “Elizabeth needed to get away from home, so I said she could come hang out.” “Oh, well I was going to call Austin and go to bed, but I guess I’ll just go watch some more tv,” you said, before turning and heading back to your room. As you got back in your room, which shares a wall with the living room, where they all were, you shut the door and slouched down in your desk chair. You sat there for a few minutes, pouting, when suddenly your phone began to ring. “Hey,” you said sullenly when you answered and saw Austin on the other end. “Wow, darlin’, I thought you’d be happier to see me,” he said with a slight chuckle. You stood up and carried your phone to your bed with you, flopping down. “Well, I would be if the roommates hadn’t just brought someone over without telling me, when they knew I was having a shit day,” you said, wiping a hand over your face. “Oh, yeah that makes sense. I know how you get when you’re already overwhelmed and then have to add another person to the mix,” he says, a slight pout forming on his lips as he says it. “Yeah, it’s okay. How are you though? How was the memorial?” you ask, knowing he had just gotten back to his hotel from that. “I’m not too bad. The memorial was great. Priscilla gave an amazing speech. It was good. I mean, it’s still surreal she’s gone, she was just with me at the Globes, but I guess that’s just how life is,” he says with a small shrug. “I’m sorry baby,” you says, with a small amount of tears forming in your eyes. “When are you coming home?” you ask, not remembering exactly when, just that it was soon. “Tomorrow afternoon,” he replies, a slight smile on his face. “Yay,” you quietly say, “I’ve missed your face around here.” “And I’ve missed yours darlin’. Can’t wait to kiss you in person tomorrow. What time are you done with classes for the day?” “Um, actually, I think I’ll skip my classes tomorrow. I want to see you. I’ve missed you. Besides, I won’t miss that much if I skip one day,” you say, grinning at the phone. He lets out a slight chuckle, before a look you know as his “idea” look crosses his face. “Do you still have the key to my house?” he asks, knowing the answer. “Yes, of course I do,” you reply, not sure exactly where he’s going with this. “Okay, well, I’ll send a text to my security people, and let them know you’re coming. Since you don’t want to be in your apartment right now, why don’t you go stay over there, and then I’ll be there not long after you wake up tomorrow. How’s that sound?” he asks, as he looks and sees you smiling brighter than the sun. “Really Aus? You’d let me do that?” “Of course I would. You even have clothes over there, so you don’t even have to pack, just grab your keys and go.” “I love you so much,” you say, not knowing if he understands how much you truly appreciate this. “I know baby, I love you,” he says, before quickly looking at the time on his watch. “Okay, I’ll text security that you’ll be there in like twenty minutes, but I have to go. Early flight tomorrow,” he says with a wink at the end. “Send me a message when you get there darlin’, so I know you made it safe.” “Will do, Aus. See you tomorrow,” you say, and then hang up the call. You stand from your bed, grab your keys, and open the door to your room, heading to the front door. “Hey, where are you going?” one of your roommates ask when they notice you heading for the door. “Oh, um, I’m going to go stay with Austin tonight,” you say, hoping they won’t remember that he isn't actually at home right now. “Oh, okay,” they say, not really paying attention to you, just enough to ask you that question. You shake your head and slip out the door, trying not to cry. There are some instances where your roommates are your best friends, and others where they make you feel worthless. This was one of the latter moments. You quickly wiped at your eyes as you walked out of the building to your car. You opened the door, threw your purse in, and started the car. Before you got going you chose music, and saw that you had a text from Austin. Aus Baby❤️ Security knows, I’ll see you in the afternoon darlin’, I love you. You decide to wait to answer him until you get to his house, slip your phone into the holder, and start the familiar drive to his house. You know this drive like the back of your hand, both from Austin driving you and from driving it yourself. You stare in beauty at the LA lights as you head out, feeling so much better just from being able to get out of the apartment. You pass his security as you pull up, shooting them a small smile and a wave. You park your car in his garage, right next to his, and walk into the house. You smile as you get inside, loving his house so much more than your small apartment. Locking the door, you turn and slip into the kitchen to get a glass of water, before turning to head to his room. You turn on the stair lights as you begin to climb the stairs up to his room. When you get into his room, you realize you hadn’t texted him yet, so you grab your phone and shoot him a text Darlin’❤️ I’m here and in bed baby. I love you. See you in the afternoon. You sigh in contentment, and pull the covers up to your chin. You tell his Amazon echo to play music, and you fall asleep to the dulcet tones of Elvis, since that was the last thing he played.

You wake up the next morning to the sun shining through his curtains. You immediately remembered where you were, and jumped up. You went into his closet and got into the dresser you knew your clothes were in, grabbing a tank top, flare pants, and your undergarments, before heading towards his bathroom. You take a quick shower in his massive shower, before brushing your teeth and getting dressed. You grab your phone from the nightstand, and walk downstairs. You head for the kitchen, knowing there is bound to be some kind of something in there for you to eat, and casually scroll through your phone as you walk. You had a text from Austin from when he got on his plane a couple hours ago, telling you he was taking off, and some texts from your roommates asking if you were going to classes today. You decide to shoot them back a simple ‘no”, before locking your phone and digging into the cabinets, finding nothing. Then you opened the fridge, still finding nothing. A last ditch effort went into opening the freezer, and you got lucky. There were some toaster waffles in there, and you grabbed the box before walking to the toaster, sitting not far away. You popped the waffles in, and went back to the fridge to grab a drink. The only thing in the fridge was soda, but you shrugged and grabbed it anyway, not really having any other choice. When your waffles came out you grabbed a paper towel and your soda before walking over to a bar stool. You sat there and ate while scrolling through all of your social media. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there, but you hear the alarm chirp, and the garage door open. You drop your phone and slip off the stool, and run towards the garage. You get there as soon as Austin gets into the house, and as he sets his bags down you jump into his arms. “Hi baby,” he says with a chuckle, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your forehead. “Hi Aus,” you say, before grabbing his face and pulling him in for a kiss. When you finally pull away, you’re both panting and Austin’s grip on you is tighter than it had been. “It’s been too long,” he says with a chuckle before pulling you back in. you lace your fingers through his hair and pull a little, causing him to groan into your mouth. When the both of you run out of breath, you reluctantly pull away, and Austin sets you down. “Let’s go upstairs,” he says with a smirk on his face, before grabbing your hand and dragging you up the stairs with him.

Later that day, the two of you stand in the kitchen with wet hair. Well, he stands, and you sit on the counter. “What did you eat this morning?” he asks you as he rifles through his cabinets, looking for something for the two of you to eat for dinner. “Toaster waffles from your freezer, and a soda,” you say with a chuckle. “Wow, I really don’t have anything to eat, do I?” he says with a chuckle. “No, not really,” you say, toying with the hem of the shirt of his that you have on. “Well, I’ll order us something,” he says pulling out his phone, “What do you want?” you just look at him and shrug. “Whatever is fine with me. Maybe order some coffee for the morning though,” you say, knowing that you would be staying here again tonight. “Are your roommates going to think I stole you?” he asks you, knowing that you usually at least try to tell them where you are. He steps in between your legs as he awaits your answer, scrolling through DoorDash seeing what he looks or sounds good. “I told them last night I was coming over here, it’s not my fault if they don’t remember. Now order something so we can eat before it’s tomorrow,” you say with a chuckle, grabbing his chin in your hand, pecking him on the lips, before grabbing his phone and choosing something to eat.

#austin butler #austin butler x fem!reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler x college!reader #austin butler x agegap! reader

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artzychic27 · 8 months

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Hey Artzy, do you have any tips on how to write an OC without making them a Mary Sue?

I guess, just don’t make them overly perfect and “can do no wrong.” There’s nothing wrong with seemingly perfect characters like how I wrote Aurore, becuase she feels pressured by her parents to be perfect. Now, if you take away the bit about her parents, make her incredibly self righteous, give her all of these natural talents without any sort of practice, have everyone fawning over her, and let her always be in the right about everything and everyone who says she’s wrong is a piece of shit, then she becomes a Mary Sue

Like a certain someone…

Here are the Science Kids for example, OCs, and the canon ones I fleshed out

Aurore: Straight A’s and definitely getting into her top school, but how will she tell her parents she’s a lesbian and can’t keep being their “golden child” right before she cuts all ties with them and goes to live with her brother?

Denise: An enby with a physique body builders would kill for, yet they feel overworked by their parents simply because they’re the strongest in the family and the elder twin

Simon: Tech Wiz often commissioned to create promo videos for upcoming events, still not completely over their parents abuse and still has mental and physical scars

Reshma: Beautiful, modest rich girl with a love for magical girl anime and anime in general, BUT! She has difficulties knowing if potential love interests truly love her and not her status or looks. Also, has some difficulties trusting older men due to incidents at galas

Jean: Plucky theater kid with a flare for dramatics and has an amazing boyfriend. Who would have guessed that this guy still blames himself for his mom leaving?

Ismael: Cool skateboarder, loves magic tricks, and always seem so cool under pressure. His personality is just a mask to cover up the fact that he’s emotionally drained due to the torment his mother puts him through when he gets home and that his dad wasn’t able to get custody of him after the divorce

Mireille: Pleasant shy girl with a meek demeanor everyone seems to love? Throw in a bastard dad who keeps trying to push her into the spotlight despite the fact that she is painfully shy!

Cosette: On their way to become Paris’ next top makeup artist! How fun! Oh, what’s this? Their “perfect” older siblings are total assholes and this stems from the fact that their mother is emotionally distant and hasn’t once complimented or shown physical affection to any of her own children? And now they put on this cool “I’m here for it” persona and crack jokes to mask their tears?… Wow

Lacey: Let’s see… Incredibly athletic, cute yet badass… Dead parents. Has to take care of both her grandparents and younger brothers. Fears the day her grandparents will die as she does not feel mentally and emotionally ready to take care of her brothers all on her own and refuses to let people in and hell her so she does parkour and all sorts of other activities to null the pain

Marc: Talented writer with legs for days and a cute boyfriend. My, what could possibly be his flaw? Oh! I know! A bad case of anxiety, and depending on the universe, he’s still terrified of Lucien and believe he’s the one at fault for their relationship taking a toxic turn! Boom!

Zoé: Rich mom, rich dad. But, what’s this? The mom is a complete bitch (Which we already know) and is always pressuring her into looking and acting “like her daughter,” even going so far as to bleach her hair at a young age, forcing her to compete in beauty pageants, and the constant verbal abuse regarding her looks. The dad’s cool, though. He misses her dearly

See, no one’s perfect. Not all of them get straight A’s, and not all of them have parents who are super well off due to a thriving business or some shit, and not all of them have parents who are totally accepting of their genders and sexualities. They have to be human, and humans have flaws

#oc #writing an oc #ask me stuff #answered ask #Mary sue

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mariana-oconnor · 1 year

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The Red-Headed League Pt 1

From the start I can say that I have read this one many, many times. Not my favourite, but it was in the book of Sherlock Holmes stories I had as a child. Although, once again I remember only the gist of the tale from the title, not the details. I may remember more as I go on.

found him in deep conversation with a very stout, florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair.

As someone from a family with many redheads, with several friends who are redheads, I can say that the idea of an 'elderly' person with red hair amuses me because without exception the more redheaded a person is in my experience, the sooner they go white. I had cousins who were significantly grey at 21. If this guy is considered elderly and still has his natural hair colour as a redhead, then he's got some impressive genes.

Also, I can already see the redheaded stereotypes circling.

With an apology for my intrusion, I was about to withdraw when Holmes pulled me abruptly into the room and closed the door behind me.

Watson: trying to be polite. Holmes: YOINK!

The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob of greeting, with a quick little questioning glance from his small fat-encircled eyes.

Watson really doesn't like flattering descriptions, does he? 'Fat encircled eyes'? You've mentioned he's stout twice already, do we really need the extra? After the last story where he was very clear about how he thought Miss Mary Sutherland was unattractive, he's really on a roll.

You have shown your relish for it by the enthusiasm which has prompted you to chronicle, and, if you will excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish so many of my own little adventures.

Doyle making a callout post for his own unreliable narrator.

"You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we went into the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary Sutherland..."

Callback! Although I'm still a little angry at you about that one, Holmes. Not your finest hour.

As a rule, when I have heard some slight indication of the course of events, I am able to guide myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to my memory. In the present instance I am forced to admit that the facts are, to the best of my belief, unique.

Holmes is flummoxed. He is bamboozled. He is quite without context or precedent.

Our visitor bore every mark of being an average commonplace British tradesman, obese, pompous, and slow.

Watson, your classism, intellectualism, and fatphobia are showing. Wow, we're just getting back-to-back Watson being a judgy little bitch, aren't we? Once again I have to question what these people must have thought in-universe when reading his descriptions of them. I know, I know, they're not real, but it's a central conceit of the series that Watson is the author and publishes the tales, and looking at it from that perspective when he's so very disparaging of some of their clients.

"Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manual labour, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and that he has done a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing else."

OK, now Sherlock's talking about the guy like he's not there. They're quite a pair today.

But also, Sherlock showing off again, and this time the client takes the bait and asks about it. He must be so pleased.

"I have made a small study of tattoo marks and have even contributed to the literature of the subject. That trick of staining the fishes' scales of a delicate pink is quite peculiar to China. When, in addition, I see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain, the matter becomes even more simple."

I like how he starts with the more obscure one, then follows it up with the more obvious clue. Although he could have got the coin from somewhere else, so the tattoo colouring is confirmation that he actually went, and is not connected in another way.

Mr Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. "Well, I never!" said he. "I thought at first that you had done something clever, but I see that there was nothing in it, after all."

I like Mr Jabez Wilson. Ha! (Maybe this is why Watson is so bitchy about him, because he does not appreciate the true glory of Holmes' art).

TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: On account of the bequest of the late Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A., there is now another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a salary of 4 pounds a week for purely nominal services. All red-headed men who are sound in body and mind and above the age of twenty-one years, are eligible. Apply in person on Monday, at eleven o'clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices of the League, 7 Pope's Court, Fleet Street.

Based on the Bank of England inflation calculator, this comes to roughly £400 a week in modern money. And given that last story we were told that a woman could comfortably live on £60 a year, while this is ~£200 a year. I would take that in a heartbeat and ask no questions. I'd be thinking a lot of questions, but I would not be asking them. Two words: Plausible deniability.

~*Oh no. I am but an innocent pawn in this terrible scheme! I knew nothing.*~

If only I were a man with red hair of sound mind and body.

"What on earth does this mean?" I ejaculated

Obligatory ejaculation note.

Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit when in high spirits.

Wiggly chair dance! I love it.

I would have a job to pay him but that he is willing to come for half wages so as to learn the business.

This guy is either the nicest guy in the world, or he has ulterior motives. Given the context, I'm going with door number 2.

I should not wish a smarter assistant, Mr Holmes; and I know very well that he could better himself and earn twice what I am able to give him.

Dooooooor number 2

There's no vice in him.

Mr Wilson, I know what I said before about plausible deniability, but you may in fact want to look that gift horse in the mouth and hire someone a little less qualified.

He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit of simple cooking and keeps the place clean

Ah, Victorian labour laws.

"Spaulding, he came down into the office just this day eight weeks, with this very paper in his hand, and he says: "'I wish to the Lord, Mr Wilson, that I was a red-headed man.' "'Why that?' I asks. "'Why,' says he, 'here's another vacancy on the League of the Red-headed Men. It's worth quite a little fortune to any man who gets it, and I understand that there are more vacancies than there are men, so that the trustees are at their wits' end what to do with the money. If my hair would only change color, here's a nice little crib all ready for me to step into.'

Victor Spaulding is not a very convincing con man - though, to be fair, I have the benefit of being genre savvy. But I can totally see Hardison playing this part in the Leverage version of this con and being over-the-top outraged about the injustice. (I think they did do a version of this con in Leverage at one time, but I can't remember when... or it might have been in Hustle. Or I might be imagining things.)

"Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears, for the business has not been over-good for some years, and an extra couple of hundred would have been very handy."

Almost like it was designed specifically for you! What a strange and fortuitous happenstance! What an utterly serendipitous and not at all suspicious coink-i-dink!

Vincent Spaulding seemed to know so much about it that I thought he might prove useful

There is nothing to see here. Just an ordinary employee.

From north, south, east, and west every man who had a shade of red in his hair had tramped into the city to answer the advertisement. Fleet Street was choked with red-headed folk, and Pope's Court looked like a coster's orange barrow.

Why doesn't Watson know about this? You would have think it would have made the newspaper and we have established that Watson reads the news religiously.

I could tell you tales of cobbler's wax which would disgust you with human nature.

Pretty sure I've read that one on AO3.

The fund was, of course, for the propagation and spread of the red-heads as well as for their maintenance.

Are they... plants? This reads more like gardening. Such weird word choice. Propagation and spread... so creeeeepy.

"'Dear me!' he said gravely, 'that is very serious indeed! I am sorry to hear you say that. The fund was, of course, for the propagation and spread of the red-heads as well as for their maintenance. It is exceedingly unfortunate that you should be a bachelor.'

Classic. The old 'take away the thing that you haven't given them yet to make them want it more'. This guy is more skilled than Spaulding, certainly. Make it seem like you're doing them a favour and they won't look into it too much.

'Oh, never mind about that, Mr Wilson!' said Vincent Spaulding. 'I should be able to look after that for you.'

Seriously, this guy needs to work on his technique. You can't be that eager, my friend. You've got to make them work with it. Make them think it's their idea, not yours. You should have been planting the seeds for this since before you even raised the idea of the League. You are a terrible grifter. Pah! I have 0 respect for you. You're getting by on luck, not skill.

Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the building, the whole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole position forever.

Once again an extreme and unreasonable ultimatum, just like in the last story. This is a Bad Sign. No allowances for injury or emergency, just 'if you leave, that's it forever.' Bad sign.

OK, maybe I lied before. I would ask questions about this: 'But what if I fall over and bang my head? But what if the building is on fire? But what if I am kidnapped by enemies of the league?'

"'... copy out the Encyclopaedia Britannica."

Just copy out Wikipedia, longhand. OK. The real question is: what happens when my hand seizes up from writing for so long? What then?

Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in low spirits again; for I had quite persuaded myself that the whole affair must be some great hoax or fraud, though what its object might be I could not imagine. It seemed altogether past belief that anyone could make such a will, or that they would pay such a sum for doing anything so simple as copying out the Encyclopaedia Britannica.

Yep, yep, yep. All very valid and good points. Good for you, Mr Jabez Wilson. I knew I liked you.

Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was as right as possible. The table was set out ready for me, and Mr Duncan Ross was there to see that I got fairly to work. He started me off upon the letter A

A is for Alarming, which this is.

It's also for Augur, as in 'This augurs poorly.'

You were so close, Mr Wilson. So very close. I believed in you - well, I didn't, because there wouldn't have been a story otherwise. But I still believe you can pull this off. You've come to Holmes for a reason. Will you realise before it's too-

He held up a piece of white card-board about the size of a sheet of note-paper. It read in this fashion: THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE IS DISSOLVED October 9, 1890

Oh Mr Wilson. My belief was misplaced.

A is for Aim and A is for Accomplished and A is for Absconded. All very relevant words, one feels.

#Letters from Watson #The Red-Headed League #Sherlock Holmes #long post

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