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ambivalent-anarchy · 4 years

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Defending Peter Parker (Round 2: Tom Holland)

Here <- Andrew Garfield

Soooooo I'm doing this cuz I'm bored to show y'all how dumb some of your arguments and criticisms of the live action spidermen are. I did Garfield already. I'll do Maguire if someone shows me where people have hated on his spidey cuz all I ever see for him is people treating him like he's the most perfect Peter Parker to ever exist. I'd never tell anyone how they're "supposed" to feel about a situation so I won't do that and also don't take this seriously I'm just a dumb teenager. I'm just taking the dumb opinions y'all like to pass as fact and rebutting them with actual facts.

"hE's OnLy So PoPuLaR bEcAuSe He'S hOt"

😐If this is your main critique of Tom Holland's spiderman, pls go find another one. This is so overused. The "they're only famous cuz they're hot" excuse has been used for every hot actor/actress ever. At this point, it isn't even real criticism, you just come off as lame. And yeah, alot of people like him because he's hot, but that's definitely not the only reason.

"hE's NoT sPiDeRmAn. He'S iRoNbOy!"

UUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHH okay let's get to it. (If you can't tell, I really hate this argument)

1) Let's be real. The fandom pushed irondad wayyyy more than the actual movies did.

2) If you still use this argument after Far From Home, you missed the whole point of what FFH was supposed to be.

I was scrolling through tumblr and I saw a great point that someone made.

That entire movie was about him coming into his own as a hero, facing his problems head-on, and dealing with the threat by himself. That was the point of the whole movie. Yes, he had the Stark tech to help him make a suit, but he designed it himself, and then he went up against a threat that had incredibly powerful Stark tech at their disposal and still won. By himself. Everyone was asking who the next Iron Man would be and Happy even flat out said "You're not Iron Man." Because he isn't. He came into his own. He is established now.

Peter started the movie a bit lost without Tony and just wanting to deny his responsibilities and get away for a while.

He ended the movie finally accepting himself for who he was and even having to fight against Stark technology. He had to rely on himself and instead of worrying about this title that's been put on him, he has to just go with his own instincts (all the way down to his web shooters running out and having to literally just rely on his mind and his body) and look his responsibilities in the face. Idk a better way for him to have broken out of being "ironboy".

3) Plus, they needed some way to bring Spiderman into the MCU. And Tony is practically the MCU's Bruce Wayne when it comes to "adopting" children. Of course he was gonna be the one to bring him in.

"He HaS tOo MaNy MeNtOrS! tHeY nEeD tO sToP hOlDiNg HiM bAcK aNd LeT hIm GrOw Up AnD bE aLoNe!"

Hahaha no.

Tony- okie dokie that's only one

Happy- Happy Hogan is not Peter's mentor. He literally helped him out in ONE scene. That is not enough to be a mentor.

Mysterio- He is also not a mentor. Storywise, he was Peter's scapegoat to caste his responsibilities onto because he didn't want them/feel he was worthy of them. And then later he was a villain. Just because the two have one small pep talk, doesn't mean he's a mentor.

I think most ppl that say this stuff really just don't want Peter to have any help. What you guys fail to realize is that getting help does not make you any less of a hero. You can still be a solo hero and get a peptalk every now and then. Batman, Superman, Ironman. They all get help from people in their movies and I don't see anyone complaining about it or saying they need to be alone.

Also, grow up? This dude is literally a sophmore/junior in high school. They talk so much about how he's literally a kid. Alot of the spiderman comics take place with him still being in high school. He doesn't have to be an adult. And as far as maturity goes, it's not like he's a dumb kid. He's just a teen doing what teens do.

"nO uNcLe BeN!"

Come on guys. How many times have we seen this origin story? We all know it.

The story takes place when he's ALREADY spiderman so Uncle Ben is ALREADY dead. (They even have his suitcase in FFH). Just because they don't really mention it doesn't mean it didn't happen. We don't need to see the same origin story again. I mean, does every Batman movie mention Bruce's parents dying in the alley? No. Cuz we all already know it does. Origin stories are integral but the MCU wasn't erasing his, they were simply just starting after it.

And in every spidey story Uncle Ben always teaches him "with great power comes great responsibility". Well if you watch the movies, MCU Peter learns his lessons in responsibilities sooooo we're covered there.

"When you can do the things that can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you."

Yeah yeah we all love Uncle Ben but him already passing doesn't mean the story's bad. That's just where they wanted to start lol.

"ThErE's No ReAl CoNsEqUeNcEs WhEn If LoSeS!"

Homecoming: If Vulture would've won, there would've been more easily accessible alien weapons available for criminals like the Shocker, the Tinkerer, etc. Also Vulture would have been a criminal loose on the streets. Regardless of his intentions, he was a guy willing to kill for what he wanted.

FFH: What Mysterio was doing, even though it was an illusion, was actually causing casualties. His workers talked about it to him over and over again. Especially if the last attack in London (i think?) would have worked, alot of people would have died. Also the world would have been tricked into depending on someone that actually couldn't really keep them safe.

Lol but regardless, Peter doesn't have to be dealing with a gigantic threat. The whole thing about being a superhero is doing what's right, regardless of how big or small the situation is. He's literally fought with the Avengers. I think he's proven himself.

All in all Tom Holland is the best (for me personally). I never have an issue when he's on screen and he's really just so awesome😊

Tagging great ppl: @allegra-writes , @yumings , @spideyyeet , @sunkissedspidey , @tommyunderoos , @chaoticpete , @sovereignparker , @thesherlockianavenger , @bubblebucky , @eridanuswave , @ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr , @kidney9-9 , @gwenvrse , @the-weird-bisexual , @kelieah

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

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Of All the Places

Chapter 5

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: The arrival of someone from your life before Loki knew you throws his head into a tailspin. He finally has to come face to face with his emotions. Chapter Warnings: a lot of sarcasm, tiny bit of angst, and fluff A/N: Thanks to everyone who’s been reading and/or chatting to me. I love hearing your thoughts on this, and I hope you enjoy the latest installment :) Updates every Friday.

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The sun beat down on Loki as he handed the carefully packaged eggs to the customer he was helping. It was the first time since his arrival on the farm that you were participating in a local farmer’s market, and he was doing his best to assist despite his less than ideal people skills.

“Have a nice day,” you called after the man as he walked away. “I’ll tell you one thing about your life, Loki. There is absolutely no way you worked in customer service.”

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed with a chuckle.

“Speaking of, you haven’t remembered anything else, have you?”

“I have not, but if I do, I promise you will be the first to know.”

“Mama’s not entirely wrong about the missing person ad,” Ana chimed in, taking the jam jar Matt had just picked up out of his hands. “It couldn’t hurt. Though I can think of a few reasons why you might not want to do it.”

Loki looked away as his cheeks flushed. He was thankful you were already with another customer by the time Ana made a little heart in the air around your heads. It seemed that she had gotten the same crazy idea that John had that he had fallen for you. If only they knew he was a god, then certainly they wouldn’t have reached such an outlandish conclusion. At least, he supposed, they did not know the true reason he wanted to avoid putting his picture out there, for if they did, he was sure they’d never look at him the same way again. Why that should even matter to him was one question he had yet to answer.

“Well, perhaps when Papa finds that camera,” Loki lied.

“Mhm. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Are you leaving?” Matt asked, tugging on Loki’s pants. “I don’t want you to.”

“I know, small one. Do not worry, I am staying put for now,” Loki said as he bent down to the boy’s height.

“Yay! More play time!”

“Indeed,” Loki laughed.

In the past few days, Papa had declared him an official farmhand and offered him a salary for his help. The trickster god declined at first, insisting that the lodgings and hospitality he’d been given were far more than enough. But, in the battle of the wills, Papa came out victorious, and Loki accepted a modest salary. His position, however, was little more than a glorified babysitter, not that he particularly minded. Everyone still seemed too nervous he was going to fall over and die at any given minute to assign him many real tasks. He still collected the eggs daily, and was being taught to milk the cows, along with a few other simple tasks. In addition, he was taking some cooking lessons with Papa. His attempt at pancakes did not go too well, but you reassured him it was a great first try, something that made him beam with pride.

One thing he wasn’t particularly fond of, however, was getting up so early. Though you’d all told him it was fine if he wanted to sleep in while he was still recovering, he felt bad to take you up on the offer. He was, after all, fully healed whether you knew it or not. And if he was accepting pay, he should have to be up as early as anyone else. Still, a part of him longed for his beauty sleep.

“Well, fancy running into you here,” a deep, unfamiliar voice said.

“Denzel?” you asked in a mix of shock and surprise. “Is that you?”

“Sure is, darlin’. Long time no see.”

“Uh, yeah. When did you get back?”

“Just last night. I was hoping to see you here. And it seems I’ve forgotten my manners. Who’s this?” he asked, nodding his head at the God of Mischief.

“Loki,” he replied, reluctantly extending his hand for a shake. “Charmed, I am sure.”

“Yeah, right. Nice to meet you, too. I’m Denzel. You new around here?” he questioned, sizing up Loki.

The raven haired god wasn’t exactly sure what it was about this man, but he rubbed him the wrong way. There was nothing particularly malicious about him, but the look in his eye sparked something in Loki’s chest. In a sudden panicked thought, he wondered if this Denzel person had recognized him. If so, he’d have to make a quick getaway, teleportation the only option. He wondered for a split second if he could grab your hand and take you with him, but he knew that wouldn’t be fair to you. Then again, nothing about this particularly was.

“Yes. You see, I have tragically lost my memory, but I was lucky enough to be taken in by this kind family,” Loki said.

“Interesting. But you remember your name?”

“Oh yes, I remember simple, everyday things, such as my name or, say, how to use a seatbelt. Something so simple surely would stay in everyone’s mind,” he joked, shooting a look at you as a huge smile made its way onto your face. You hid your laugh at the inside joke behind a hand. “Very odd how that works, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Like I said, interesting. Anyway,” he changed the subject, turning to you, “I was hoping to talk. Do you think we could maybe take a quick walk?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Can you guys hold the fort down?”

“Of course, honey,” Ana said, giving your arm a quick squeeze. “Take your time.”

You were off before Loki had any time to protest, but he kept up a cool facade as the next customer walked up to the booth. Once he finished, he put his elbow on the table and, slumping down in defeat, rested his head in his hand.

“Who was that Denzel character, anyway?” he asked your sister as his nose involuntarily wrinkled in distaste.

“Listen, don’t tell them I told you this, but he’s their ex.”

“Well, what happened? Did he hurt them?” he further inquired, perking up at the new information.

“Distance, I guess. He was a great guy, really, but it just didn’t work out. He just finished studying to be a doctor, actually. So he might be back in town for good. But,” she added, noticing the disappointment etched onto Loki’s features, “that doesn’t mean they’re getting back together or anything. It’s been a while. I really do think they moved on.”

“Do you not have that saying here, though? Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or something else equally ridiculous as that.”

“Well, yes, that is a saying. But not from here, as in Oklahoma here. It’s kinda well known.”

“I am aware. I just meant... Oh never mind!” he quit in exasperation, a mood Ana chalked up to Denzel’s sudden arrival.

Loki tried to use his height to his advantage and spot you in the crowd, but no such luck. You were too far gone, away with Denzel, your ex. Someone who, Loki had to admit, was very pretty and smart and charming. But certainly he—Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief and Lies, rightful heir to not one, but two thrones—was prettier than this mere mortal. And smarter than this insipid fool. And far more charming than this bumbling oaf. Right? Or was he truly just the cold, chaotic, horrific, monstrous villain so many thought he was? Though, really, why should any of it matter to him?

In that moment, the answer finally hit him. He could never acknowledge it, though. It would only lead to pain and heartache for all involved. Not to mention terrible danger for you. But, if he were to allow himself just one peaceful second of bliss, he could imagine he was not a god, not a fugitive, but just a simple man. Just someone who could be able to love you and provide for you without any complications from his past misdeeds. If he could allow that, then he would admit he had feelings for you. But he can’t so he won’t. He’d let his inner demons have their way and only ever admire you from afar, accepting your friendship for what it was and nothing more. Though, if you were to make the first move, then perhaps things would be different. That, however, was an entirely unlikely course of events.

“Loki? Are you oki doki?” Matt asked, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Maybe you need a cookie.”

“I am fine, little one,” he said, laughing despite himself. “Thank you very much for asking.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a cookie?”

“Well, I suppose it could not hurt. What do you say? Would you like one?”

“Yes, please!”

You and Denzel reappeared just then, and Loki was suddenly very desperate to escape. He took Matt’s hand in his and informed Ana where he was off to with the child. She gave Loki a grateful smile for indulging her son and sent them on their way with a few dollars to purchase the sweets.

On the way to the booth with the most heavenly smell, Loki’s thoughts overtook him once again. He recalled his plan from when he’d first arrived; lie low and heal and then be off to Asgard. Off to claim the throne which technically should have been his. Really, it was not entirely his fault that his brother had been banished when the king fell into Odinsleep. And it wasn’t like he caused that either. No, his “father” confessed he’d been lying to him to all his life and then left him to deal with it by himself. And he was next in line for the throne at the time, but apparently he shouldn’t have taken it. Obviously, it was all perfect logic from the brain of Odin once again. And, yes, he would admit he made some mistakes. That was the sign of a true leader. But he was doing the best he could with the hand he’d been dealt. And perhaps the most frustrating part was he was starting to realize he liked this simple town better than any of that. That he didn’t actually want to leave, after all.

One short wait in line later, Loki pulled himself from the dangerous rabbit hole that was his mind. He ordered two cookies, pumpkin chocolate chip for Matt and a butter pecan one for himself. Then, on a whim, he also ordered a cup of hot apple cider for both you and Ana. Nothing for Denzel, though. If the Norns were smiling on him today, that man would already be gone by the time he got back. Gone as in away from the stand or out of the state didn’t really matter to Loki. Either worked for him.

“Surprise,” he whispered in your ear after sneaking up behind you. “Hot apple cider, on me.”

You graciously took the cup and passed one to Ana, too. Loki also offered you a piece of his cookie, which you gladly accepted. The brush of your fingers as he gave it to you had him shyly looking away. Ana took Matt off to the bathroom once he was done eating, leaving Loki alone with you for the first time that day.

“So, Denzel,” he nonchalantly started after you finished a transaction. “He seemed... Nice.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. He is.” You picked at a loose thread on your jacket as you figured out what else to say about him. “Ana told me that she let you know our history. He said he’s back now and strongly hinted at us getting back together, but I don’t know.”

“I see. Well, from what I hear, he’s an amazing guy, so you should go for it,” Loki dejectedly said, though he truly did want you to be happy. “If that is what you want, of course.”

“It’s not, though. At least, I don’t think it is. Don’t get me wrong, he is really great. But the spark’s just gone for me, you know?”

“I understand completely,” Loki replied, hope creeping into his heart. Even if you were not yet smitten with him, at least you were not still pining for your ex. “You are certainly under no obligation to be with him again.”

“Yeah, I know. I just feel bad.”

“Darling, look at me,” he said, taking your hand. “You should never feel bad about what, or rather who, you want or do not want. It is entirely up to you, no matter what anyone else says.”

The irony was not lost on Loki that he should be saying those words. Though, he had found it was a common theme among Midgardians to be good at giving advice but never apply it to yourself. So, if anything, he was just doing an impeccable job of blending in.

“Thanks, Loki. I needed that. Anyway, on a much lighter note, Matt really seems to love you. You’re great with kids.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

He felt his cheeks go scarlet again, entirely too happy that you thought he was good with kids. For a brief moment, the idea of raising a child with you popped into his mind, but he shut it down before he tortured himself too much with something that could never be.

“Well, I thank you for the compliment, but if you do not mind, I need some fresh air for a second. Or space, I suppose,” he corrected, considering you were outside. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Ok. Talk to me if something’s bothering you?”

“Of course.”

He knew that was a lie, and he was sure that deep down you did, too. It was, in the grand scheme of things, a little white lie. It’s just that it felt like so much more than that. In some ways, he supposed it was.

As he walked out to the edge of the market, he thought he heard some thunder ominously booming in the distance. Or maybe that was just his imagination.

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wonkasmissstarshine · 4 years

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The Chocolatier’s Rose {Willy Wonka x OC} Ch. 12

GIFs not mine. Credit go to owners.

Summary: It’s the last room of the tour, and Mike finds himself in a small situation.

Tagging: @holdmeicant @willymywonkers

Once the elevator reached the bright, white Television Room, everyone stepped out of the elevator. "Here!" Willy said, grabbing a pair of thick white rimmed goggles. He put them on. "Put these on quick, and don't take them off whatever you do. This light could burn your eyeballs right out of your skulls" Everyone else put their goggles on while Willy grabbed a second pair. He placed the goggles onto Rose. "And we certainly don't want that, do we?" He whispered, brushing her hair out of her face. He then gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Especially not your pretty eyes"

Rose smiled at him. Willy turned around and began leading everyone down a white walkway as he began to explain about the room. "This is the testing room for my very latest and greatest invention: Television Chocolate. One day it occurred to me, "Hey, if television can break up a photograph into millions and millions of tiny little pieces, and send it whizzing through the air, then reassemble it on the other end, why can't I do the same thing with chocolate? Why can't I send a real bar of chocolate through the television, all ready to be eaten?"

An Oompa-Loompa was sitting in a chair with a remote in hand. He clicked through the various channels on the television set. "Sounds impossible" Mr Teavee said.

"It is impossible!" Mike agreed arrogantly. He then began to spout out information that was just useless. "You don't understand anything about science. First off, there's a difference between waves and particles. Duh!" Willy's lips curled in annoyance. "Second, the amount of power it would take to convert energy would be like nine atomic bombs!"

"Mumbler!" Willy turned around and yelled in Mike's face. It was clear he was fed up with the boy. "Seriously, I cannot understand a single word you're saying" Willy straightened his posture, facing forward again. "Okie dokie. I shall now send a bar of chocolate from one end of the room to the other by television" He put his hand up to his mouth. "Bring in the chocolate!"

About six Oompa-Loompas waked over carrying a very large Wonka Nutty Crunch Surprise Bar. "It's gotta be real big 'cause you know how on tv you can film a regular-size man, and he comes out looking this tall?" He showed using his index finger and thumb, measuring three inches. "Same basic principle" Once the bar was placed on a platform, Willy pressed a red button. The bar was levitated into the air, and encased in glass. There was a blinding white flash and the bar was gone.

"It's gone!" Charlie exclaimed.

Willy looked at Charlie. "Told you. Now, that bar of chocolate is now rushing through the air above our heads in a million tiny little pieces" He waved his fingers in the air. He turned around and urged everyone to follow him. "Come over here! Come on! Come on!"

They all walked over to the television. The Oompa-Loompa that was watching it had it stopped on a channel with gorillas. "Watch the screen!" Willy said excitedly. "Here it comes" A smile played on his face as the chocolate bar came into focus. "Look!" He tapped Mike on the arm. "Take it"

Mike looked incredulously at him. "It's just a picture on a screen"

"Scaredy-cat" Willy faced Charlie instead. "You take it!" Charlie seemed unsure, but Willy encouraged him further. "Go on, just reach out and grab it"

"Go ahead, Charlie" Rose told her brother, also trying to encourage him. "Take it" Charlie stepped forward and reached through the screen. He grabbed the bar and pulled it out of the television. "Holy Buckets!" Rose muttered in amazement.

Charlie looked at the bar and then smiled up at Willy. "Eat it" Willy urged him. "Go on. It'll be delicious. It's the same bar. It's just gotten a little smaller on the journey, that's all" Charlie started unwrapping the bar. Willy kept on encouraging him, even biting his own teeth together.

Charlie took a small bite into the bar. "It's great!" Charlie smiled.

"It's a miracle" Rose said dreamily.

Willy walked over and stood by the Oompa-Loompa in the chair. "So imagine, you're sitting at home, watching television, and suddenly a commercial will flash onto the screen, and a voice will say, "Wonka's chocolates are the best in the world. If you don't believe us, try one for yourself" And you simply reach out," Willy reached his hand out, and then retracted it back, as if he was grabbing something. "And take it!" He grinned, specifically at Rose, and tilted his head. "How about that?"

"So, can you send other things?" Mr Teavee asked. "Say, like breakfast cereal?"

"Do you have any idea what breakfast cereals are made of?" Willy retorted, his voice full of disgust. "It's those little curly wooden shavings you find in pencil sharpeners"

Rose giggled at that, a fond memory of Mrs Mason saying that exact same thing dancing through her head. She wasn't a fan of breakfast cereals either. "Pies for breakfast," Mrs Mason would say. "That's the way it should be. Not those pencil shavings you call cereal"

"But you could send it by television if you wanted to?" Charlie asked Willy curiously.

"Of course I could" Willy answered proudly.

Mike, now having interest in Willy's invention, asked him. "What about people?"

"Well why would I send a person? They don't taste very good at all"

"Don't you realize what you've invented? It's a teleporter!" Mike shouted. Willy and Rose shared annoyed glances with each other, both of them done with the little snot. "It's the most important invention in the history of the world. And all you can think about is chocolate" Mike spat out the word like it was poison on his tongue.

Mr Teavee told his son in a calm voice. "Calm down, Mike. I think Mr Wonka knows what he's talking about"

Mike argued with his father. "No, he doesn't! He has no idea. You think he's a genius, but he's an idiot! But I'm not" Mike made a mad dash for the platform, jumping over the Oompa-Loompa in the chair, and pushing two others out of his way.

"Hey, little boy" Willy warned in an irritated tone. "Don't push my button!" He meant it both literally and figuratively.

It was no use with Mike as he pushed the button and hopped onto the platform. He levitated into the air, doing disco dance moves and waved at everyone before he disappeared within the flash of light.

"He's gone!" Mr Teavee exclaimed.

"Let's go check the television, see what we get" Willy said. Everyone went back to the television. "I sure hope no part of him gets left behind"

Mr Teavee looked at Willy. "What do you mean?"

"Well, sometimes only half the little pieces find their way through" Willy looked at Mr Teavee, a grin on his face. "If you only had to choose one half of your son, which one would it be?"

Mr Teavee looked at him again but with shock. "What kind of a question is that?"

Willy looked at the television again. His smile turned into a pout. "No need to snap. Just a question" He turned to the seated Oompa-Loompa. "Try every channel. I'm starting to feel a little anxious" Willy turned forward again, and the Oompa-Loompa began channel surfing.

"There he is!" Charlie said as the television landed on a news channel.

"Mike!" Mr Teavee gasped. The Oompa-Loompas broke out into song again, this time to a rock number. Various channels flashed on throughout the song including the news channel, a cooking channel, two Oompa-Loompas playing with Rockem Sockem Robots, the shower scene from the movie Psycho, and the Oompa-Loompas as a rock band.

The most important thing

That we've ever learned

The most important thing we've learned

As far as children are concerned

Is never, never let them near a television set

Or better still just don't install the idiotic thing at all

(Never, never let them, never, never let them)

It rots the senses in the head

It kills imagination dead

It clogs and clutters up the mind

It makes a child so dull and blind

(So dull and blind, so dull and blind)

He can no longer understand

A fairytale in fairyland

(In Fairyland, in Fairyland)

His brain becomes as soft as cheese

His thinking powers rust and freeze

He cannot think he only sees

(He only sees, he only sees)

Regarding little Mike Teavee

We very much regret that we (regret that we)

Shall simply have to wait and see

We very much regret that we

Shall simply have to wait and see

If we can get him back to size

But if we can't

It serves him right

"Ew!" Willy cringed, when Mike was squashed by the news anchor Oompa-Loompa. "Somebody grab him!"

"Help me! Help me!" Mike shrieked through his now high-pitched voice.

Mr Teavee reached into the television and grabbed his one-inch son. "Oh thank heavens, he's completely unharmed" Willy said. He meant it sarcastically but Mr Teavee didn't understand that.

"Unharmed!?" Mr Teavee said, completely appalled. "What are you talking about?"

"Just put me back in the other way!" Mike squeaked.

"There is no other way!" Willy told the tiny boy. "It's television, not telephone. There's quite a difference"

"And what exactly do you propose we do about it?" Mr Teavee asked.

"I don't know" Willy answered, with a little shake of his head. "But young men are extremely springy. They stretch like mad" Willy gasped and a smile came across his face. "Let's go put him the the Taffy Puller!"

"Taffy Puller!?" Mr Teavee was mortified at the suggestion.

"Hey, that was my idea!" Willy said, his smile dropping. He looked at little Mike. "Boy, is he gonna be skinny" He then quietly repeated to himself, "Yeah. Taffy Puller" Willy turned to the Oompa-Loompa. "I want you to take Mr Teavee and his..." Willy paused a moment, taking another look at Mike "little boy up to the Taffy Puller, okay?"

The Oompa-Loompa bowed to Willy. He then tugged on Mr Teavee's pants, and lead him out of the room. Willy let out a relieved sigh once the Teavee's were gone. He turned to Charlie and Rose, the two remaining guests. "On with the tour. There's still so much left to see!"

#willy wonka x oc #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka #rose bucket #my oc #rose and willy #the chocolatier's rose

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ohlookitsthearkhamknight · 4 years

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TW FOR SEXUAL ASSAULT and pedophiles and other stuff that i discuss.

Okie dokie due to some people on here i just wanna explain some things okie doke

And real quick im gonna say this. As much as preist charactersation of slade gets on my nerves he was EXTREMELY correct on the whole terra thing. At least he understood that much.

Yes in the judas contract it was "implied" (i mean implied as there was not a legit confirmnatiom that they actually slept together other than a "scene" that doesnt delict much so unless wolfman comes out and says its true i dont believe it) that slade and terra slept together. Now before you go oh wtf are you talking about hes a fucking pedo listen

A pedophile is someone who enjoys going after kids. Who LIKES them.

Now lets look at slade and terra.

Terra was underaged but also had a thing for slade and was taken advatage of at a young age which is not her fault but she enjoyed slade and liked it.

Slade could not stand terra but to keep her around would RARELY do anything to her like that. Yeah he manipulated and groomed her and it was fucked up. But he didnt do it because he LIKED HER he did it so he could get back to the titans for "killing" his son ehich is the paint point there.

Yes slade did manipulate a minor. Yes terra at her age did not know any better and its extremely fucked up but as she gets older she doesnt rly change but thats a whole nother thing other than what were talking about.

Now before we continue lets remember one thing real quick ALL THAT SHIT HAS BEEN RETCONED MMMM K

now that ive said that lets look at whats still canon.

So if youve read rebirth there is a scene that shows terra breaking down and wanting to leave so slade begrudgingly kisses her to calm down and stay with the plan. Yeah its fucked up and sickening but thing is he didnt enjoy it he only did it to keep her there and it was extremely fucked up. And yeah that makes him a bad person but not a pedophile. If he enjoyed it then yeah he would be a fucking pedo and i wouldnt be talking about this.

I just get pissed when people swing aroumd the word pedophile and slap it on anybody because then it slowly loses its actual meaning.

A pedophole is someone that activily likes kids which slade doesnt. Also if he were one then he wouldnt have acknowledged what he and terra "had" was wrong. And he wouldnt still be getting comics, have the fans he has and all that shit.

Slades a bad person yes. But a pedophile no not in my eyes. Believe me i know what a pedophile is. I go to therapy because of one. Alot of this has been said by others to be bad writing which it is but its canon so oh well. This along with other things shaped slade into thie horrible being he is today and im not gonna lie its kinda frustrating because idk in my eyes this wasnt who he is suppose to be but this is what dc does.

Listen i dont care if at the end of the day you dont like deathstroke but i am begging you to understand everything that has happened, what was retconed, and what a pedophile actually is.

Yeah i know slade did horrible things but you need to understand some people ignore it or take it out completly (and also actually understand what happened and didnt happen). And as writers come and go that always changes. Like Christ all the og judas stuff was retconed. Like the entire thing. All of it was left up to the readers in the end. And i made my choice becsuse this is the thing.

reading judas comtract and then reading the first deathstroke series is such a huge change of charactersation thats it confusing. Like i dont even know what all happened because it was all "implied". But in the end if something did happen it was retconed anyway.

At the end of this all im saying is. You can still like a character and understand its flaws. You dont have a right to go up to someone and call them a horrible person for likeing a character you think is a "pedophile".

There is a lot more here than just that but thats all im going to say. Yeah deathstroke has bad problems but those problems change like leafs in the wind and its not for you to tell others what to do. Like ok i get it you hate him whatever but its not for you to go up to someone and make them feel bad and tell them what they are when its not true.

If you hate slade that much blacklist the damn tag. Im tired of argueing with people. And im tired of seeing people go after others over something as stupid as a damn fictional character.

- a person who knows what a pedophile actually is because its the fucking reason shes in therapy so for the love of god quite throwing it around everywhere.

#slade wilson #deathstroke #at least preist did something right #read a comic plz and thanks

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writingwithciara · 4 years

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❀ summary: i thought i’d miss you (when it ended)/i thought it’d hurt me (but it didn’t) [in which the reader comes to terms with the fact that what she had with kelce, is over]

❀ word count: 1.6k

❀ pairing: kelce x reader

❀ warnings: maybe a swear word or two, but that’s it.

❀ series masterlist // full masterlist

♪ playlist ♪ to listen to if you want

↞ previous // next ↠

After crying herself to sleep the night before, y/n woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. Today, she was going to be spending all day with the pogues and nothing could ruin the mood she was in. Not Topper, not Rafe, and definitely not Kelce.

When their agreement originally began, she had told herself that he was only a boy and that she wouldn’t let him get into her head. So, she planned to not let the breakup affect her day with her best friends. The only people who could truly make her laugh. A genuine one, not a fake one.

She walked over to her closet and browsed through her limited wardrobe. Being in between social classes had both its perks and its downfalls. It meant not having a ton of clothes. It meant not having the nicest possessions either. But it also meant not being labelled as either a Kook or a Pogue. Instead, it meant getting to watch the two groups fight constantly.

Y/n picked out a pair of shorts & her favorite t-shirt, a worn out tee with a faded logo, gifted to her by Jj on her thirteenth birthday. It got its fair share of use and was the most worn thing in her wardrobe, but she didn’t care one bit. It was comfortable and reminded her of her friends.

She hadn’t seen them in a while, due to spending most of her time sneaking around with Kelce. But since that was over, she was more than happy to have already had this day planned out.

Y/n made her way down the familiar path to the Chateau, immediately catching the eye of John B as she approached the back porch.

“Oh my gosh. She’s alive.” He laughed and pulled her into a hug. She laughed along with him and smiled when he pulled away. “I see that the family finally let you have a break, huh?”

“Oh yeah. They’ve really been, um, keeping me busy.” As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t stop thinking of Kelce. That is, until Kiara bounded out of the house and engulfed her in a hug, making the thoughts of the forbidden boy, fade quickly. JJ was next and he smiled as he took in her appearance.

“It’s like I’m staring at a real life unicorn.” He joked.

“Seeing me here isn’t that rare, is it?” she questioned the trio, who shared a look with each other. Y/n hadn’t really noticed how much of her time Kelce had actually taken up. “Oh gosh. I’m so sorry. I promise to spend more time with you guys now.”

“You better. We have so much to catch you up on.” John B smiled. “All we have to do now is get in that boat and pick up Pope so we can head out for a much needed day of swimming.”

The group made their way to the HMS Pogue, the little boat they a great deal of their time on. If the pogues weren’t doing their own separate things, chances were you could find them together, out in the marsh. It was the moments like those that y/n found herself missing the most.

“What are you thinking about over there, Captain brain?” Jj questioned her as he took a seat next to her. She shrugged and watched as the trees past them. John B steered the boat along the narrow channels of the marsh. They approached Heyward’s and saw Pope waiting for them on the dock. He expertly climbed in and took a seat next to Kie.

Moments later, John B stopped the boat and anchored it so they could swim, each of the boys quickly peeling off their shirts and diving in. Kiara and y/n stripped themselves down to their bikinis and jumped in together.

For the next few hours, the group of friends did everything they could to savor the rare moment they got together.

The thought of Kelce was far gone out of y/n’s mind. Something she was thankful for. Last night, she went to bed with tears in her eyes, thinking that she was never going to get over the breakup. That she was going to miss him like crazy. But that wasn’t the case. Instead, the missing she had been doing, was all the times she spent with her friends.

Kelce, on the other hand, was tearing himself up about breaking up with y/n. He had dialed her number a million times, only to backtrack and erase it every single time. He didn’t have the right to call and beg for your forgiveness, he knew that. But seeing some of his friends happy in relationships, made him miss what he had with y/n. It all made him wish that the feud wasn’t even a thing.

He decided that the only thing to do to get over her was to, as Rafe so kindly put it, get under somebody else. It was something he was hesitant about, as he didn’t know where to start and he wasn’t that great with the flirting. He thought about calling up Jessica and trying with her, but whenever he thought of her, the sad look in y/n’s eyes when he caught them together, flashed in his mind. So that idea was out.

“I need your help, Topper. Me, you, and Rafe need to go to a bar or something.”

“What’s up, man? Are you feeling alright?”

“Of course. W-why wouldn’t I be?”

“You never ask to go to a bar. It’s normally just throwing together a kegger on the beach.”

“If we do that, it will attract unwanted attendees.”

“You mean like the pogues?”

“Exactly. We can’t have them ruining a fun night with all their stupid drama. So, let’s go to a bar on the mainland tonight.”

“I’ll call Rafe and see what his plans are. I’m sure he’s free but it’s always good to check.” The blonde quickly dialed his best friends number and excused himself from Kelce as he began a conversation with Rafe. Kelce could hear every word Topper was saying and every word that flew out of his mouth, made sense to him.

“Rafe, I think there’s something wrong with Kelce?”

“What makes you say that?”

“He asked to go to a bar on the mainland.” Topper heard a bunch of noise and some swear words on the other end of the line before Rafe responded.

“That’s new. Did he say why?”

“No. But he doesn’t want to throw another kegger because he doesn’t want any ‘unwanted attendees’ to show up.”

“His issue’s gotta have something to do with the pogues.” He could tell Rafe was thinking of something, as the other line went quiet for a minute before he spoke again. “Tell him we’ll go to a bar tonight. I’ll be over in 5 to pick you guys up.” Rafe paused again. “But tomorrow, me and you are going to have a little talk with the pogues.”

“Okie dokie.” Topper chuckled and hung up, quickly returning to his other best friend.

“Rafe will be here in 5 to take us to the bar.”

“Awesome.”

The next 20 minutes flew by and the boys soon found themselves at a bar on the mainland. Rafe ordered a millions drinks and the boys made their way over to a booth in the corner.

“So, why’d you want to come to a bar tonight?” Topper questioned Kelce after he noticed the boy had finished his 5th beer. This was the time to ask him any question imaginable, as Kelce became an honest drunk shortly after his fifth drink.

“I just need to move on with my life. I have friends who are in happy relationships and until I find that I need to hook with a bunch of random girls.” Kelce looked at his friend. In all honesty, he didn’t need to find happiness. He had already found it in y/n but that was a short lived event. As long as Topper or Rafe didn’t ask him what he was actually moving on from, he’d be fine.

“Okay. Um, I see a girl who looks like she’s ready to be shown a good time.” Rafe pointed over to a group of girls. A bachelorette party, to be specific. Older girls kind of scared Kelce, honestly. “The one who’s not cheering as loud and only sipping her drink. That’s the one you go for, got it?”

Kelce nodded and stood up, stumbling his way to the bar to buy the girl a drink. As he approached the bar, there was a girl who walked up to him with a smile on her face.

“Hey. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your friends back there. If you need to hook up with some random girl to get over the one you’re currently hung up on, I’m your girl. I’m-“

And that’s all Kelce remembered when he woke up the next morning. There was a girl in the bed with him, her back turned to him. For one stupid second, he thought it was y/n but once he rubbed his eyes, the girls hair color changed, and he slowly climbed out of bed.

Maybe the only way to get over y/n was to let someone in on the secret he had been keeping. He approached the living room and saw Topper and Rafe sitting quietly, like they had been talking about him. The looks on their faces made Kelce put two and two together, his eyes widening as he realized that they already knew what he was going to confess.

tags: @ebonyyyy-e @obx-direction-sos @https-luna @butgilinsky @prettytoxicrevolver @softstarkey @ijustreallylovethem @socialwriter @spilledtee @collecting-stories @mdlyncline

#kelce #obx #kelce obx #kelce outer banks #outer banks song fic series #Kelsea Ballerini #unapologetically

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lost-eternity · 4 years

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Matchup Requests: CLOSED

Match up request for: @ imightsecretlybeadragon

Okie dokie. I match you with...

I love your tag name, hun

I had to ship you with Sherlock himself

I was originally considering Mycroft but he honestly can't handle spontaneity

That's more Sherlock's thing

Although the number of hobbies you have tried your hand at, only to drop most of them, tells me that you grow bored easily and hence need things to occupy your time

So does Sherlock. Except his methods of quelling boredom are not nearly as tame as candle making.

He'll keep you on your toes

I also considered Mary as a potential match but finding information on her online is incredibly scarce, for some reason. RIP

I believe that your ambition, drive, and willingly to throw reason to the wind and embark on thoughtless adventures is the perfect reason why you would mesh so well with Sherlock Holmes. You would totally be willing to jump out of windows or attempt crazy experiments with him instead of judgmentally staring as most would

As much as Sherlock enjoys John's company, he cannot handle people asking him questions all of the time

Either they need to be on the same level as him- or shut up and do as he says until he reveals his thought process in some theatrical way

While you may not be able to under exactly where that man's mind is at, you are definitely smart enough to understand the general gist and decide for yourself whether or not you want to follow through

Because sometimes Sherlock really needs someone to look him in the eye and say "no". Instead of passively being yanked around like a dog on a leash.

Both of you have a habit of becoming so engrossed in your work that you forfeit biological functions like sleep. Sherlock really appreciates your understanding in regards to this because he knows that you will not disturb him.

But when he is going on three days without sleeping or eating, your more nurturing side will step in, force him to rest and give that man some damn sustenance.

Which is why I feel like you would work very well with him. You know when to back off and give him the space he needs, but you aren't complaining like him because you also know when the is challenging the limits of what his human body can handle and will step in to make sure he actually takes care of himself

Like, dude. Take a freaking shower, you both look and smell like a writhing sack of horseshit

Sherlock would probably find your tendency to be loud quite intrusive. He claims that "even your thoughts are loud. I can feel you thinking. Stop that." And promptly kick you out of the room

Try not to be too offended by him

He is like a toddler. He doesn't know any better

But feel free to give him a scalding tongue lashing afterwards

Sherlock would never admit it, but he does genuinely care for you. And it can sometimes be hard to tell. He constantly berates and criticizes you. But only because he is worrying over your well being and gets super mad if you do sometimes that puts your life in danger. Sherlock can't even bear the thought of losing you, and like everything else he doesn't like, he chooses to ignore or "delete" it. So when that fear becomes a reality, he flips out, masquerading his concern as anger. Because he does not want to appear weak

His criticism comes from a well meaning place. He genuinely wants you to improve and do the best you can in life to become successful, he is just piss poor and phrasing. Instead his critiques come off as purely negative. You may have to remind him of this and he would be quick albeit awkward to correct.

If you show him a painting:

"No, the lines are all wrong. The focal point should be here, but because you used 45° angles, the focal point ends up down here."

Cue an unamused look from you

"What? Oh... uh. Y-your use of colour palate is... adequate...."

He's trying

Knowing Sherlock, you did not really ever "meet"

At least not how most people would

The first time you met, Sherlock had you pinned beneath him on the ground, demanding that you take off your clothes.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let's start from the beginning

You were near Hyde park, cloaked in a heavy woolen coat to combat the biting cold of the winter-scape around you

With your hands shoved deep in your pockets in an attempt to warm them, you continued at a brisk pace, wanting to get back to your flat before the scheduled snowfall

That was when a dude on a motorcycle nearly careened into you. You jumped back and glared over your shoulder, fully prepared to tell him off. Instead, what you saw rendered you speechless

The guy who almost hit you was wearing a... bunny head mask. What the hell?

So distracted by this weirdo on the motorcycle, you did not notice another man in a black trench charging down the way. He actually did hit you from a full sprint.

The force of the impact knocked the air from your lungs and caused you to fall over, he taking a tumble shorter thereafter

The man, now having you stretched out beneath him, seemed entirely preoccupied. If he recognised the implications of your situation, he gave no indication to it.

He spared you a single glance before looking back after the motorcycle bunny guy.

"I need your jacket, now!" He demanded, not once looking at You

"Excuse me?" You asked.

"Jacket!" He demanded again. "Take it off!"

Were you being robbed?

If you were, this was one weird ass mugger.

Another man came jogging up, his breath short and strained as she rested his hand on his knees. He looked horrified then apologetic "Sherlock! Get off her!"

The rude trench coat fella scrambled to his feet, as if just now realising he had been on top of you. He must be Sherlock.

The second man continued. "I'm sorry about him, we aren't mugging you. We would just like to borrow your jacket for a few minutes."

"Watson, he is getting away!" Sherlock complained

You removed your coat, and handed it over, completely confused. What else were you supposed to do?

The cold air bit your exposed skin, sending goose-flesh across your arms as you shivered from the chill

Sherlock and his big ass coat moved at a dead sprint towards an ice-crusted fountain

Watson sighed and extended a hand to help you up. He shrugged off his own jacket, offering it to you.

You immediately refused his gesture, despite the sheer cold causing you to shiver.

Watson frowned slightly at the rejection, his forehead creasing

You watched as this Sherlock character leapt onto the fountain, nearly losing his footing as she scrambled across. The motorcycle man had almost reached the road, if he got there, he would be lost.

Sherlock pursued him, jumping over gates and pushing past pedestrians to cut him off on the main trail.

You did not think he would make it, but remarkably, he did. He stood before the motorcycle your jacket extended in front of him

Bunny guy did not hesitate to charge at him, probably planning to run him down

Your breath hitched in your throat as you gazed at the scene. Like a matador facing off against a bull... except Sherlock had no sword. No back up. Just a jacket. How in the world was he going to stop a guy on a motorcycle with only a jacket???

You watched in anticipation, the cold you felt completely forgotten as the motorcycle drew nearer and nearer.

Sherlock did not once hesitate nor flinch. He remained rooted in spot, his eyes steely with determination

The bunny suit man got within a single metre of Sherlock.

You thought for sure that you were about to witness a collision.

You were wrong

Sherlock threw your coat then rolled out of the way.

The coat hit the back wheel as it spun, getting snagged in the shifting gears and mechanisms.

It wrapped itself around the back wheel, seizing it up and causing the motorcycle to skid out, slipping across the ice before colliding into a nearby tree.

Sherlock was quick to pounce, restraining the bunny suit guy.

You were absolutely amazed. Both you and Watson seemed to have the same idea as you rushed over. Watson scolding Sherlock for pulling the stunt and you out of concern for your poor coat.

It wasn't long before the police arrived. Apparently bunny guy was some sort of expert thief turned murderer known for his iconic bunny suit. The cops have been after him for months and Sherlock had been the one to flush him out and trap him

You were mostly distraught over the loss of your jacket. It was a good jacket, now completely lost to the motors and gears on the cycle

Watson promised that he would buy you a new one. He even invited you back to his flat for some tea because he was worried you would catch cold if you walked all the way back to yours

You were going to refuse and just take a cab, then you learnt that Watson and Sherlock were flatmates.

How could you say no?

You just met some of the most interesting people on the planet, how could anyone say no to tea with them?

Sherlock seemed adamantly against the idea, complaining loudly about Watson "taking home too many strays" because "they ruin my work."

"You should have thought of that before you ruined my favourite jacket." You retorted

They were both taken aback by your wit

Watson appeared rather smug. "Yeah. You could have just used your own."

Sherlock seemed positively offended that anyone would dare suggest such a thing. "Not my coat! The coat is iconic."

Watson just rolled his eyes

Despite getting off on the wrong foot, you and Sherlock hit it off rather nicely

You were amazed by his observational abilities, but shocked him by understanding how he came to his conclusions before he even explained.

This was when Sherlock began to like you

And Sherlock doesn't like anyone

It kinda baffles John, really

Sherlock, finding you rather entertaining, is fine with you popping in for tea every once in a while.

He even let you assist on cases

This is where he really began to fall for you

He admires your intellect and thought process, considering it formidable albeit slower than his own

Let's be real, it's Sherlock

But things kinda start out rough

At first, when Sherlock first realises that he has feelings for you, he "deletes" them

It's scary admitting when you fancy someone

And not just scary. Dangerous. Especially for Sherlock.

He can't allow himself to be focused on anything except for work

Of course, the more time he spends with you, the more his feelings keep coming back, regardless of how often he deletes them

So he pushes you away

He lashes out

Becomes cold and distant, trying to make you give up

But you won't. You're having the time of your life with him and always comes back. No matter how many times he yells for you to go away. Its infuriating, actually

There will come a point where Sherlock has to make peace with his own attractions but it will be very difficult for the both of you

You will have to work with him through this

Cause Sherlock is not going to be an easy catch. And an even harder one to keep

But I have faith in you.

I hope you enjoyed dear, let me know what you think :)

#sherlock #sherlock holmes #matchup #ships #sherlock x you #sherlock x reader #match up #matchups #match ups #ship #bbbc #bbc sherlock #john watson #request #sherlock request #sherlock matchup #sherlock ship #sherlock match up

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sweetiepie08 · 5 years

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Rebel Z (Chapter 1)

Invader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list please let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

[-]

Tak sat on the sidewalk, leaning against Zim’s fence and making sure she stayed out of sight from the security cameras. Her fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on the top of the gift box by her side. She kept her eyes trained on the street, waiting for the SIR unit to arrive home.

It’d been years since she first came to Urth and tried to snatch the planet out from under that undeserving worm. She told herself it was nothing personal. The Irken Elite didn’t get caught up in petty personal vendettas. It was about proving her herself worthy as an invader and proving Zim unfit for even a fake mission. She’d lied to herself then. Not anymore.

She made a few more attempts over the years. Each time Zim and those meddlesome humans thwarted her. Every failure ended with her going off-planet to regroup and examine where she went wrong. After so many defeats, she finally had to admit to herself this was personal. This was about Zim and her fatal flaw was underestimating him.

A whistled tune caught her antenna and she looked up to see Zim’s SIR unit, called GIR, walking toward the base. He was dressed in his dog costume and he carried a bag of groceries. She stood up and put on a fake smile as the robot skipped its way over.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice gratingly sweet. “Aren’t you Zim’s SIR unit?”

“Hellooo…” Gir sing-songed in reply.

“Listen, I know Zim and I haven’t had the best relationship and I wanted to make it up to him. I got him this present to say sorry for all the times I tried to ruin his mission. Could you make sure he gets it? There’s a jumbo bag of gummy bears in it for you.”

“Okie-dokie!” The head of GIR’s costume opened up and a claw arm flew out of his head. It snatched the gift box and drew it back inside his head’s storage compartment. He then gave her a little wave and scampered into the house.

Once he was inside, Tak got down and army-crawled to the base’s window, careful not to set off any motion sensors. As she peered inside, she could see Zim, sitting on the couch, looking over something on an Irken computing tablet.

“GIR, good, you’re home,” he said, not looking up from his work. “I’ve just finished drawing up the plans for-”

“I got a present for you!” GIR squealed as the gift box popped out of his head.

“Eh? A gift for Zim?”

GIR nodded vigorously.

“Huh.” Zim set aside the tablet and slid off the couch. “Well, thank you GIR,” he said, picking up the box. “Wait, this isn’t full of moldy tacos again, is it?”

GIR shrugged “I dunno.”

“You don’t know?”

GIR shook his head.

“This isn’t from you?”

GIR shook again.

Zim narrowed his eyes and examined the box. He gave it a light shake and placed an antenna on it to listen. Finally, he looked at the tag.

TAk smiled. She could imagine his heart dropping as he read the words.

“Night-night? Tak?” Zim threw the box on the ground. “Computer! Activate defensive maneuver number-”

Before he could finish, MiMi jumped out of the box holding an electrified shocking fork. She jabbed it into his neck. Electricity coursed through his body and he fell to the floor in a heap.

“Master?” GIR gave Zim a poke.

MiMi swept to the door and let Tak in. Once inside, she disabled her human disguise. “He’s napping,” she said, dropping a large bag of Urth candy at GIR’s feet. “Here’s your gummy bears. I’ll take him downstairs to rest.”

The SIR unit began gleefully digging through the bag as Tak grabbed Zim’s ankle and dragged him to the kitchen. MiMi followed close behind. They took the elevator down to the base’s main computer lab and walked over to the control panel. She stuck Zim’s body in the control seat and plugged in his PAK. The computer lit up, showing a log-in screen. She placed Zim’s hand on the identification pad and, just like that, she gained access to the computer network.

“MiMi, restrain him.”

Her SIR until gave a solute, then pulled a roll of duct tape out oh her head and taped Zim down.

Tak turned back to the computer and inserted a programing disc. She grinned as her coding filled the screen. It was her best work yet, a near perfect copy of the Control Brain’s PAK reading system. Only the Massive held such technology. She’d waited three Urth years for this moment. Three years of consorting with shady figures from the back alleys of space. Three years of making deals with backdoor hackers. Three years of trading favors to gain access to the technology she needed. It all lead up to this moment, the moment when she finally learned how to crush Zim once and for all.

MiMi tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned to look, MiMi pointed to Zim and made a slashing motion across her throat.

“No, Mimi, we can’t kill him yet.” It was true. She could easily kill him now while he was vulnerable, but it wouldn’t be satisfying. When she finally claimed her vengeance, she wanted his eyes to be wide open.

The computer dinged, alerting her that the program was ready to run. She turned back to the screen and looked into the wicked eyes of her own reflection. “Alright, let’s see what makes Zim, Zim.”

She swiped her hand across the control panel, opening a starting page. It outlined Zim’s basic information.

Name: Zim

Age: 16.6

Occupation: Food Service Drone

Assignment: Foodcourtia, Banishment.

So far, so good. Now she just had to run the error check simulation. She typed in the command and waited for the program to work its magic. When it finished, the alert sound blared and the word DEFECTIVE flashed across the screen in big, red letters.

“Hmmm… No surprise there, MiMi, but I need more. Let’s get more specific.”

She typed in a few more commands and the screen showed her a list of all of Zim’s defective areas broken down by category. The list was long, too long to go over before Zim woke. Two categories caught her eye: PAK Installations and Irken Traits. These two seemed curious. She opened the file for PAK Installations first. A list popped up.

PAK Installations

· Perseverance: 89342/10

· Loyalty: 324/10

· Penchant for destruction: 352301/10

· Susceptibility to propaganda: 134/10

Tak’s mouth turned downward as she read over the list. Every Irken knew the PAK boosted certain personality traits to ensure successful service to the Empire. However, only the highest-ranking PAK engineers knew what. Some of these were to be expected. Of course, an Irken must persevere in the face of opposition and remain loyal to the Empire. Those were obvious. And she supposed a soldier must be capable of a little destruction. But susceptibility to propaganda?

She switched off the PAK Installations and looked into Irken Traits. Surely this section would reveal enhancements made to the already superior race. Why else would the PAKs monitor their natural Irken inclinations?

Irken Traits

· Creativity: 3342/0

· Personal ambition: 3625/0

· Need for companionship: 334/0

· Need for affection: 3420/0

· Sense of individuality: 4280/0

· Survival instinct: 4406/2

Tak took a step back as she analyzed what this meant. Suspicion crept through her like a parasite and the truth glared down at her from a screen. Irken traits were meant to be blocked? This couldn’t be the norm. There had to be some mistake. Zim was a defective after all. Perhaps these blocks were just part of his defects. Or maybe his PAK was changed after the mess he made of Impending Doom I. Yes, that must be it. The Control Brains must have tried to take away certain skills to prevent further disasters. But if these blocks were deliberate, why didn’t the levels match up? Surely the Control Brain would have caught these errors during re-encoding. And could she even be certain that these blocks were unique to Zim? To be sure, she’d have to compare his results to those of a standard PAK.

Her hand unconsciously reached back and brushed the top of hers. It was the only PAK immediately available. She hadn’t tested the program on herself before. It would have been the smart thing to do, instead of coming all this way without testing it on a real PAK. She told herself that her ship wouldn’t have enough power to generate a full reading, but that wasn’t entirely true. She could have at least attempted a partial reading, just to make sure. What stopped her?

She unplugged Zim’s PAK and plugged in her own. Her start page appeared on the screen.

Name: Tak

Age: 16.9

Occupation: Janitorial Squad

Assignment: Dirt (planet)

She scowled at her demeaning encoding. It should read “invader” or at the very least “Irken Elite.” She had everything they wanted. She excelled at every training. She passed every testing simulation she took. She made herself the best of the best. The final test should have been a mere formality. If not for the idiot taped to the chair behind her, she would be in her rightful place.

She typed in the command for the error check. Yet another formality as far as she was concerned. It was required to view her own stats. An error reading should be impossible. After all, she was everything the empire wanted her to be. She worked, and studied, and molded herself into the shape of a perfect Irken soldier. There was no way she could be…

DEFECTIVE

The word flashed across the screen in glaring red letters. The alert sound shook her antenna and the light from the screen burned her eyes. Her mouth fell open and her body broke into a sweat. “No! It can’t be!” She must have gone wrong somewhere, made some mistake. It was the software. That was it. That was the problem, not her PAK.

You know that’s not true, her own sinister mind whispered back to her. It was right. The PAKs were designed to be completely secure from enemy tampering. A PAK could only be accessed with specific Irken equipment and software. If there was a flaw in her coding, it should not have connected to the PAK at all. The only way for her to even be seeing this word was if her software perfectly imitated that of the Control Brain’s programing.

She pressed on, swiping straight to the PAK Installations.

PAK Installations

· Perseverance: 1344/10

· Loyalty: 10/10

· Penchant for destruction: 10/10

· Susceptibility to propaganda: 5/10

So, at least her errors were not as off as Zim’s. Her loyalty and penitent for destruction were at the ideal levels according to the reading. But her susceptibility to propaganda was too low? And perseverance too high? And these were considered errors? Were these not good qualities to have? There was something strange going on here, to be sure.

She swiped over the Irken traits.

Irken Traits

· Creativity: 3542/0

· Personal ambition: 5437/0

· Need for companionship: 23/0

· Need for affection: 10/0

· Sense of individuality: 4281/0

· Individual survival instinct: 4192/2

A smug smile came to her face when she realized her creativity and ambition outmatched Zim’s, but it quickly disappeared when she saw what her ideal levels were. Zeros all around, just like him. According to the reading, she should have no creativity, no ambition, no individuality… She barely even had a survival instinct. She should be nothing. Was this what the Empire really wanted? Just mindless drones?

This wasn’t right. Something deep down in her gut told her so. These characteristics were assets. They were what helped make the Irken race so great. But if Irkens were superior, why were their natural traits being blocked? Something was wrong, very wrong.

Perhaps the problem was in the encoding. She and Zim were technically assigned to menial occupations when they both had the training of the Irken Elite. Their jobs didn’t match their skill-level. Tak was clearly meant for something greater and Zim… Zim was an anomaly all his own.

But even if that was the case, these stats still didn’t make sense. Did a janitor or food service drone not have the right to see themselves as an individual? Did they not deserve the ambition to aspire to something greater? Or to be creative in their assigned professions? And what did a level 2 survival instinct entail, anyway? Just the wherewithal to get out of the way of a crashing ship? Or the ability to look before falling off a cliff? Nothing about this added up.

Still, she only had the data for 2 allegedly defective Irkens of low rank. If she wanted answers, she’d have to look at a PAK which bore a higher rank. Luckily, she knew just where to find one.

“MiMi,” she said, shutting down her program and removing the disc. “We’re leaving.”

MiMi cocked her head to the side and pointed at Zim.

“Leave him for now. Something more important has come up.”

MiMi nodded and followed Tak out of the room.

After a quick raid of Zim’s fuel stores, Tak and MiMi made their way out of the base. They went to the backyard where she parked her ship. She uncloaked it, revealing a grey, outdated, Vortian vessel. It was all she’d been able to acquire since she was forced to eject from her Spittle Runner. Yet another loss she could attribute to Zim. It wasn’t quite up to the standards of modern Irken vehicles, but she’d been able to modify it to run on an Irken operating system. At the very least, it allowed her to blend in both inside and out of Irken controlled space.

As MiMi added fuel to the tank’s ship, Tak climbed inside. “Computer,” she commanded, waking the ship’s A.I.

“Yes Master,” the robotic voice answered.

She’d never bothered to download her personality into the A.I. like she had on the Spittle Runner. It didn’t feel right. Her last ship was her pride and joy. She’d turned that thing from a pile of scrap metal to a vessel capable of outrunning even the latest creations of the Irken military engineers. That ship was worthy of her mark. What she wouldn’t give to have it back.

“Awaiting orders,” the computer reminded her.

MiMi finished fueling and hopped into the cockpit.

“Computer, bring up the coordinates of the last known location of Invader Skoodge.”

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ourloveisforthelovely · 4 years

Text

Broken Halos 2

A/n: series rewrite. Slight mentions of smut.

Pairings: Sam Winchester x Reader

Link to Chapter 1

Words: 2,167

_________

Dean woke up to the sound of Jordan making cooing sounds. His eyes snapped open for a second before getting out of bed. Dean didn’t wait for Sam’s door to open. Sure, he could have let the kid’s mom and dad handle his early morning wake up but didn’t. Dean wanted nothing more than to go see his nephew again. This morning he was strangely a lot more cheerful than he typically was.

Maybe I can be a morning person after all?

Dean thought with a smile before walking into the bedroom, Jordan sat up and was chewing on his fist. Dean chuckled before picking him up.

“Okie dokie mini Sam time to go get breakfast. Mommy and Daddy are still sleeping. That means you get to have Uncle Dean’s world famous oatmeal.”

“Are you sure that’s famous?”

Dean almost yelled when Cas' voice came from behind him. Spinning around, Dean clutched Jordan close to him.

“Holy crap Cas! Are you trying to scare us to death!!?”

The angel shrugged sheepishly.

“I heard him making noises while I was watching infomercials. I thought it would be appropriate to come get him so Sam and Y/n could rest. Their activities seemed loud.”

Dean held his hand over Jordan’s ear while shoving the kids face closer to his body.

“CAS! Man, he doesn’t need to hear that!”

Cas tilted his head.

“Dean, I highly doubt that a 9 month old child has the concept of se…”

“Stop! I don’t want to think about that!”

Dean snapped. He walked into the kitchen with Cas on his heels.

“Dude, I don’t need to know what exactly my brother and Y/n do to each other! Walking in on them a time or two is plenty for me! Besides I need some coffee before we continue this conversation further!”

Cas watched with an amused smile as Dean wandered around the kitchen with Jordan in one arm. He fumbled around with the coffee pot before giving up and handing Cas the baby.

“We need to get a high chair. Something tells me he’s a crawler and will disappear. Last thing that I want is to wake Sam up and tell him that I lost his kid.”

Cas shrugged, snapping his fingers.

“Ask and you shall receive.”

Dean gave Cas a small smirk as a high chair appeared.

“Aren’t you feeling generous this morning. Cas, I think you like this kid.”

Cas securely put Jordan in his high chair before looking at Dean.

“He has grown on me, I believe.”

Dean nodded.

“I knew he would. Now time for coffee and my famous oatmeal.”

Cas automatically winced.

“Shouldn’t his mother…feed him? Perhaps I think he would enjoy a bottle much better.”

Dean frowned, from across the room at the coffee pot.

“Have something to say about my oatmeal?”

Cas shook his head.

“Of course not.”

Dean smirked as he began to fumble around the kitchen. Glancing back at Cas, who was busy talking quietly to the baby, Dean couldn’t help but smile.

After a few minutes Dean turned with a small bowl in his hand.

“Alright Jordan, let’s get some food in you.”

Jordan batted his eyes at Dean holding his hands out towards the bowl. Dean looked already pleased.

“Look at that Cas! Little guy is hungry. So far so good!”

Car smirked.

“You haven’t gotten it in his mouth yet.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he pulled a chair up beside Jordan.

“Cas, man, you are supposed to be my cheering section not my critique section.”

Cas didn’t reply as Dean took a spoonful of oatmeal on the spoon and put it in the baby’s mouth. Jordan immediately frowned as he tried to process what had just been given to him. He looked at Dean with a horrified frown that reminded Dean so much of Sam.

“Oh come on kid! It’s not that bad!”

Jordan immediately spit the oatmeal out.

“What are you doing to my kid?”

Dean looked up at Sam, who had just walked into the kitchen. Sam looked down at the food that was in the bowl.

“World famous oatmeal, huh? Don’t blame you buddy.”

Sam ran his hand over his son’s head taking in the baby’s little round face.

“Well you try then super dad!”

Dean grumbled. Sam shrugged. He took the bowl and scooted it closer to Jordan. The baby looked at his father with almost pleading eyes before pushing it away shaking his head.

“Guess you aren’t doing any better than me.”

Dean said smugly as Sam continued to try to entice Jordan into eating. The only success that Sam made was Jordan smacking the oatmeal out of hand. Sam gave Dean a glare as you walked into the room. Dean was relieved to see that you looked a thousand times better than you did yesterday.

You carefully watched Sam’s failed attempts at getting Jordan to eat the oatmeal before smiling.

“You should put some fruit in that and he will eat it.”

You tried to fight back a laugh at the dumbfounded expressions on Sam and Dean’s faces. Walking into the kitchen, you took out a jar of peaches and mixed it into the oatmeal before looking at Sam.

“Try again.”

Sam shrugged, holding out the spoon and sure enough Jordan ate the oatmeal with no issue.

Dean sat for the next few minutes watching Sam with his son. He stood quietly for a few minutes before sitting down across from his brother.

“So, we are going to have to go face Bobby soon.”

Both Sam and yourself looked up like children who had been caught with their hands in a cookie jar. Sam leaned back in his chair as you lifted Jordan out of the high chair cleaning his face. Sitting him down, you turned back to Sam as he reached out and pulled you onto his lap.

“Yeah, I guess we will.”

You replied softly. Sam wrapped an arm around your body snuggling against him.

“Y/n, everything is going to be fine. We’re good. Bobby will see that everything is going to be fine. We can’t just show up when Jordan is like 8 and expect Bobby to understand then.”

You looked back at Sam as though he had grown two heads.

“Sam, my dad is not going to understand this! He is going to be a whole new level of pissed off!”

Dean took a sip of his coffee as he leaned back in his chair.

“How about we go there, put up a united front, and hope for the best?”

You stood with a sigh.

“You’re right we have to work this out.”

The following few weeks passed without much merit. Dean and Cas were first in line to see Sam and yourself falling in love with each other all over again. Much to the elder Winchester’s dismay, he was walking in on the two you making out or about to start fucking in different locations around the bunker.

After a couple of days, Dean finally had enough and sent the two of you on a hunt. Cas however, was questioning everything.

“Is sending them off alone together a really good idea? What if something happens? What if they don’t devote enough of themselves to this case and nothing comes of it? I am concerned about them moving too far too fast.”

Dean smirked as Jordan tossed a ball at his head. The baby clapped his hands happily when Dean faked a dramatic fall. He laughed sitting up and pulling Jordan into his arms.

“Cas, it isn’t a real case man. I am sending them off for some alone time. I am not walking in on them almost screwing again! Cas, I am not telling them what to do. It's their life.”

Cas was a little more convinced. He too was a little ill of seeing the two of you attached at the lips. He watched as Dean stood with an eyebrow wiggle before going into the library where you sat with Sam looking over some books.

“So found a small vampire next in Oklahoma. You two go solve this one. Get them under control. Once it's done, get all of your new relationship stuff out of the way on your down time! Cas and I will stay here and baby sit Jordan. We have a big trip to the zoo planned.”

Sam looked up with a frown,

“You don’t want to tag along?”

Dean shook his head.

“Hell no! I have seen enough of you two with your tongues down each other's throats to do me a lifetime. Thanks for the consideration though.”

The next afternoon, the two of you arrived in Oklahoma city. As Sam checked into the hotel, you stood looking over some of the notes that Dean had given you. Your eyes fell to the bottom line of Dean’s writing,

“Haha I got you two. There are no vampires in OKC. Have a nice trip.”

Sam walked back to the car.

“Got our room, honey.”

You handed the letter to Sam with a smile as he started to get the suitcases. Sam looked over the letter for a moment before smirking.

“He sent us after nothing.”

You stood on your tiptoes pushing a strand of his brown hair away from his face.

“Come on Sammy, let's just take some time. We have a lot to make up for.”

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment before pulling you into a kiss.

“You’re right. Good thing you are on the birth control because you are not going to be getting out of bed for some time.”

The following days were a repeat of the first. Sam didn’t let you out of bed for almost anything.

“Sam, I am going to need a snack break. Where the hell did you get this stamina at?”

Sam laughed as he ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

“I don’t know. Having you back…it's everything that I had wanted for so long. Now I’m going to show you what you mean to me. I want you to know how much I wanted you back.”

You scooted your way back on top of Sam stroking your finger down his cheek.

“I’ve wanted this too.”

Later that evening, the two of you were walking downtown after dinner. You had been quiet for a while. Sam had been telling you about everything that he and Dean had been up to for the past few months as well as what it was like for him to get his soul back.

As he talked, you couldn’t help thinking about how this could be their life all the time now. You had Sam back and things could be just like this. Even though the two of you were hunters, you could be happy. Jordan could have a somewhat normal family. Sam could feel like he was actually loved and needed.

“Y/n, stop!”

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Sam’s hand locked around yours. Looking up, Sam was staring down an empty alley.

“What is it, Sam?”

You questioned softly. Sam frowned, reaching into his jacket pocket.

“Demon. I can smell it.”

You automatically frowned hearing the word demon come from Sam’s lips. After watching him go through hell because of demons once before you were afraid to see it again.

“Sammy…”

He held a hand up.

“Stay here, baby. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

You reached out grabbing his hand.

“Sam, no. I know what demons…”

Sam looked back at you with warning eyes.

“Y/n, you need to calm down and get your head in the game. Baby….I need you to listen to me. I need to keep you safe. Think about our son.”

You stood motionless looking at Sam sadly. He sighed before reaching out and pulling you into a gentle kiss.

“I’ll be back. Five minutes okay.?

You nodded as Sam turned and disappeared down the alley.

Standing alone in the silence you tried to remain calm. Sam could do this right? He could say no. That sinking feeling that you had when Sam lost his soul came back ten times stronger than it was before.

“Screw it!”

You muttered before turning and running down the alley. It took only moments for you to finally find Sam. His back was turned to you, blocking any vision that you could have of the now dead demon.

“Sam?”

Sam turned. You almost screamed out the moment that you saw the blood on his lips and chin. His hazel eyes looked almost on the verge of being demonic as they locked on yours. Your hand locked over your mouth,

“Sam, no.”

_______

@shaylybaby2032 @authoressskr @tas898 @supernaturalways @wontlookaway @untoldshortsofthefandoms @brokencasbutt67-writer @li0nh34rt @fandom-trash-worth-it @stuckinsaudi1 @mycuddlycorner @authoressskr @summer-novak @marichromatic @deanwherescas @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @hankypranky @emiwrites3reads @shitfaceddaniel

#Supernatural #Sam Winchester #Sam Winchester x Reader #Reader x Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Cas #Supernatural Fan Fiction #Reader fan fics #Broken Halos #Broken Halos fic

8 notes · View notes

freddiesaysalright · 5 years

Text

Peace Like A River Part 4

A Gwilym Lee x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a stand up comic with a pretty dark past. She has a three new lights in her life: her daughter, Violet; her anonymous correspondent, Dear Friend; and Gwilym Lee.

Word Count: 3.2K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @simmisblog, @assembledherethevolunteers, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @readinghorn, @riddikuluslypotter, @doingalrightt, @misslolasworld, @lemurian-starship, @ravenedges-lies, @painkiller80, @imgonnabeyourslave If you’d like to be added let me know!

A/N: Alright, the big reveal! I hope you guys enjoy it! Don’t worry, there’s still some shit to go down before this story is over!

Part I Part II Part III

Part 4 here we go!!!

“You’re going to meet him right?” Stacy questioned.

You trembled at the thought. This man, Dear Friend, was probably the love of your life. To meet him would mean to take actual steps toward being happy. That terrified you. The last time you put that much trust in someone, you got burned. Sometimes quite literally. Logically, you knew that Dear Friend wasn’t like that. He couldn’t be. But your body remembered all too well. So did your heart.

“I - I want to,” you managed to say. “I just don’t know if I can.”

“But, Y/N, what if it’s your only chance?” she pressed. “He lives in the UK. Who knows when you’ll have another opportunity to meet without a hefty expense for one or both of you?”

“You’re right,” you admitted. “But the truth is, I’m a coward.”

Stacy sighed and looked at you in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” she questioned. “You’re one of the bravest people I know. You left your husband and kept him away from you. You’re raising your daughter all on your own. And you took a shot at a career in comedy, which is highly competitive, especially for women. And look how it turned out for you!”

“This is different,” you said.

“How?” she demanded.

“It just is,” you insisted. “It involves love, it involves another person.”

“Do you want to hurt him?” she asked.

“No, of course not,” you said.

“Then go,” she replied. “If you don’t, he’ll be crushed.”

You looked at the letter again, hesitant.

“Take a chance, Y/N,” she pressed. “You deserve to be happy.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the bathroom door beside you opened and Violet poked her head out.

“Mommy, I’m ready for my bath now,” she said.

“Right, sorry, baby,” you returned, shaking your head. “I’ll be there in one second.”

“Okie dokie,” she replied, and closed the door again.

You turned back to Stacy and handed her the letter. “Put this on my desk. I’ll answer it once Violet’s in bed.”

She sighed. “Alright, then.”

You didn’t answer and went into the bathroom to help Violet in her bath. The water was full and warm and you’d added bubbles like she liked. You lifted her up and placed her in the water as she giggled. You reached for her shampoo and began lathering it in her curls. She was talking to you, but your mind was on Dear Friend. Were you really ready to take that step?

“Mommy,” your daughter said seriously, calling you back to her. “Are you hurting somewhere?”

“No, honey,” you replied, brow furrowing. “Why?”

“You seem sad,” she said simply.

You brushed her cheek with your thumb. “You are very sweet to worry about me, but you don’t need to. I’m okay.”

“Do you miss Mister Gwilym?”

You blinked with surprise, but recovered quickly, and smiled.

“A little,” you said. “You like Mister Gwilym, Vi?”

She answered with an exaggerated nod. “I do. He’s nice, and when he’s here, you smile a lot.”

“He is a good man,” you agreed.

Without warning, she slammed her toy boat into the water with a massive splash. Bubbles and water freckled your face before you could draw back. You sputtered to get the suds out of your mouth and gaped amusedly at your daughter. She giggled mischievously.

“You rotten girl!” you teased and tickled her sides.

She shrieked with laughter and splashed around some more as you tickled her. You stopped and she caught her breath. You pinched her cheek gently.

“Mommy, can I have a mohawk?” she requested.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” you returned and used the suds and water to style her hair.

“I love you,” she said suddenly. “I want you to be happy and smile all the time.”

Your heart melted. You were surprised there wasn’t a puddle on your chest.

“I love you too,” you told her. “More than anything in the world. You’re my biggest reason to smile.”

She beamed at that. “But you should have other stuff too! I don’t know what Miss Stacy said you need to do, but you should do it if it makes you smile!”

It really was that simple. You couldn’t let fear hold you back. To get what you wanted, you needed to be as open hearted and trusting as your three-year-old girl. You kissed her wet forehead.

“You’re right, sweetie,” you said. “I will.”

“Good!” she chirped. “Is my mohawk ready?”

“Yeah, check it out,” you said, grabbing the hand mirror from the counter.

She made an angry face in the mirror before breaking into fresh bits of laughter.

“I look funny,” she said, giggling.

You hummed in agreement. “Come on, silly girl. Time to dry off.”

You wrapped a towel around her and carried her out to the room to get her clothes. She picked out her favorite pajamas and you helped her get them on. Then you had her brush her teeth while you combed her hair. Then you got in bed and she snuggled close so you could read her a story. As you read, you thought how crazy it was that she had imparted such simple wisdom on you.

When she was asleep, you went to your desk to answer Dear Friend. Your pen shook in your hand as you wrote.

Dear Friend. It is time we meet. Perhaps by fate, I’m going to be in Atlanta for work that week. I know a place there that has great coffee…

You organized a date, time, and place. It made you feel in control which eased your nerves. You also decided how you were going to know it was Dear Friend. You would both carry a copy of Pride and Prejudice with a pink carnation in it. You were going to meet Dear Friend. See his face. Hold his hand. Maybe even kiss him. With all the worry that clouded your heart, excitement began to peek through.

I await our meeting eagerly. I’m trembling now just thinking of seeing you. Touching you. Loving you truly. Until then, your Dear Friend.

You put the pen down and read it over again, making sure you had every detail right. This was the chance of a lifetime and you could not afford to mess anything up.

From Chicago, you went to DC, where you had two shows. From DC, you headed to Charlotte for one night and then from Charlotte you went to Atlanta. That city felt like the big leap. Every step you took, every mile traveled brought you closer to Dear Friend. On your night in Charlotte, you received a letter from him confirming that he would be where you suggested at the time you suggested. You could feel his excitement through the ink.

I can’t believe I’ll be able to hold you in my arms at last, he wrote. I desperately want to feel you close to me. To come together as our hearts already have. I love you. I look forward to seeing your lovely face. Yours, Dear Friend.

It would have been touching if it didn’t make you so nervous. And for the first time, you did not need to write a reply. That made you a bit sad. Was this your last letter from Dear Friend? It was the end of an era for you. But, who would need a letter when you had him next to you?

Violet also complicated things. You would have to tell him about her, and right away. You were fairly certain he would have no objections to your child. He knew you were married before, after all. But it was still a nerve wracking thing to go over in your head. What if it did change how he felt about you? It would be so easy for him to walk away at this point.

As you touched down in Atlanta, your stomach did a flip, and not just because of the shaky landing. This was really it. The place you would meet Dear Friend, and probably change your life forever. One way or the other.

You were meeting him after your second show in Atlanta. The whole evening, you felt like you were hardly present on stage. You heard the audience laughing, but you couldn’t remember by the end of it how it went or if you had even done a good job. You hated that you had probably let some people down, but you had this massive event hanging before you like a storm on the horizon. It was unavoidable.

After the show, Stacy was waiting for you. Violet was already in the stroller, asleep. The cafe was close to the venue, so you were just going to walk there. The weather was nice since it was fall, and you didn’t mind the exercise. It would help you to clear your head.

“Stacy, I can’t do this,” you said when you were about halfway there. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Really, you felt like your stomach was jumping around inside you. Any second now, you were sure you would lose your dinner right there on the sidewalk.

“Y/N, listen to me,” she said, taking your hand and making you look at her. “You’re going to be fine. This man, Dear Friend, has never disappointed you. You have something real. It’s worth exploring. It’s worth the risk.”

You remembered telling Gwilym back in Boston about risk taking. You realized now that was much easier said than done.

She held your hand all the way to the cafe. A large window was in the front, where you could see the customers, but you didn’t look. You turned your back and covered your eyes.

“He’s the one with Pride and Prejudice with a carnation in it,” you said. “I can’t look, Stace, you have to do it for me.”

Stacy scanned the patrons and then you heard her gasp. “There he is!”

Your mind and heart were racing. He was so close now. You could feel him. Somewhere, just feet away from you, he sat. Was he sipping a coffee? Was he just looking around waiting for you? Was he everything you’d ever imagined him to be? You thought you might explode from all the questions and emotions coursing through you.

“What’s he like?!” you squeaked out.

“Well, you find Gwilym attractive, right?” she wondered, and you heard concern in her voice.

“Sure, why?” you returned, narrowing your eyes at the street in confusion.

“Because…” she trailed off.

“Does he look like Gwilym?” you pressed.

“You could say that,” she answered vaguely.

“Stacy, just tell me!” you cried.

“Y/N...it is Gwilym.”

“What?!” you gasped, whipping around.

You gazed through the window and saw him. Your friend Gwilym Lee, alone at a table, a copy of Pride and Prejudice beside him, with the carnation. Worlds collided and for a moment, you were ready to leap with joy. Of course Gwilym was Dear Friend. It all made sense now! But, as quickly as happiness came, it departed. A voice that sounded like Henry’s ran through your mind and crawled over your skin. Unworthy, it hissed to you.

You recalled all the ways Gwilym had described the girl he was in love with. Smart, well-educated, lovely, beautiful. You couldn’t measure up to the version of yourself you had presented to him in those letters. All you really were was a disappointment. You were sure of it.

Stacy eyed you, a smile threatening to part her lips.

“This is great!” she said. “Right?”

Her happiness faltered when she saw it leave your face.

“What is it?”

“I’m not the girl he’s in love with,” you said.

“What the fuck?” she returned. “You’re Dear Friend, of course you are.”

You shook your head. “No. I’m not. I was who I want to be in those letters. Not who I am. I don’t…” you took a deep breath. A lump the size of a chicken egg had formed in your throat. “I don’t deserve him.”

“Y/N…”

“Take Violet back to the hotel,” you said.

“Are you going in?” she asked.

“Yeah, but...I can’t tell him,” you said. “It would only upset him.”

“I think he’ll be more upset to think he got stood up,” she said.

“I’ll work it out, just please, take Violet and go.”

With a sigh, she obeyed. You watched her disappear around the corner. You stuffed the book into your purse, and flower as well, ensuring they were deep inside and couldn’t be seen, even from a distance. You blinked back your tears quickly and heaved a sigh. It was time.

You walked in and strolled up to the counter casually, as if you were just popping in after your show with no real sense of purpose. You looked at your phone as you waited for the barista to acknowledge you.

“Y/N?” Gwilym’s voice came from the table.

“Oh, hey Gwil!” you said brightly. “I didn’t know you were in Atlanta.”

“I didn’t know you were,” he returned.

“When I get my drink, can I join you?”

He glanced at the book, then at his watch. A frown just barely crossed his mouth and then he smiled at you.

“Sure,” he said. “That’s fine.”

You ordered and when you had your cup, you sat across from him at the little table.

“Are you meeting someone?” you asked casually.

“How’d you guess?” he replied.

“Not exactly the most subtle check of your watch there, dude,” you teased.

He chuckled. “I suppose not. But yes, I am waiting for someone.”

“Your girlfriend?” you wondered, taking a sip.

He hesitated. “I suppose.”

“What’s up with the book?”

He sighed. “It’s all a bit silly, really. You see, the woman I told you about...I’ve never actually met her. We’ve been writing letters for a year or so now and we were supposed to finally meet tonight. I don’t even know her name. We call each other Dear Friend. Is that completely insane?”

It was like he’d taken a nail gun to the glass of your heart. It cracked and then when Dear Friend came from his mouth, completely shattered.

You looked at your hands around the coffee mug. “No, not completely.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so,” he said. “The guys have all been giving me hell for it.”

“They’re just jealous,” you said with a shrug.

“That’s generous of you to say, but I know that it’s sort of stupid for me to hope on a thing like this,” he said. “Unfortunately, she’s a bit late.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said. You meant this. He was about to get hurt and it was entirely your fault.

“I’ll hold out hope for a little while longer,” he assured you. “What about you and your man? Going well still?”

You swallowed and shook your head. “No. It didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said gently, and reached over to take your hand.

You looked into his beautiful blue eyes and almost confessed. But you held back as that voice returned and reminded you that you were undeserving of his kindness.

“Really, I hate that for you,” he continued as he squeezed his fingers around yours.

“Thanks,” you said, looking away again.

Your eyes welled up unexpectedly as emotion overwhelmed you again. This was not how this was supposed to go. But - as you considered it - you were so nervous because you knew that no matter who Dear Friend was, you were never going to feel worthy of him. Now that you knew it was Gwilym, a person you loved and respected outside of the letters as well, it only made that feeling all the more intense.

“Y/N?” he questioned. “Are you alright?”

You sniffled. “I am so sorry, Gwilym.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” he said soothingly, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “You don’t need to cry for me. If she hasn’t shown up, I’m sure it’s for a very good reason.”

It made you let out a sob because that woman didn’t exist. Instead, she was you.

“This can’t all be about me,” he said. “Is it your relationship as well?”

You nodded. “Yeah, sorry I’m so emotional. I just hate this.”

Your heart was breaking inside your chest. It was all over now. No more Dear Friend.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” he offered.

You shook your head and wiped your eyes. “No, you don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t like the idea of you walking alone,” he went on.

“Really, Gwil, I don’t need it,” you assured him. “I need the fresh air anyway. I love to walk. It helps me think.”

“Well, don’t overthink,” he said. “That’s where you’ll get into trouble.”

You tried to smile but couldn’t. You couldn’t believe this was it. The end of you and Dear Friend. And most likely the end of you and Gwilym as well. How could it ever be the same when you were in love with him?

It should have been obvious to you. That Tolstoy quote should have been a dead giveaway. When you thought about Gwilym and Dear Friend, it made sense that it was the same man. Gwilym was no one other than himself. You on the other hand, had a mask for every occasion. For the stage, for the letters, even for Violet. You took on the roles you felt each situation demanded of you. And in doing so, no one really knew who you were. You thought Dear Friend did, but realizing he knew you in another form made that line between your identities all the more clear to you. And he deserved someone whole.

“I’ll try not to,” you said.

You had to pull your hand away from his because it felt like he was burning into your skin. His pure intentions and goodness could sear a hole right through your layers. Even you weren’t sure what he would find if he made it through all of them.

“Well, I suppose it would look bad if she showed up and found me with someone else,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

You forced a chuckle. “Yeah. I’ll head out.”

“I hope you feel better, Y/N.”

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” you returned.

His brow furrowed at that, but you stood up, not bothering to explain yourself. It was true. You hoped there really was a woman out there like the Dear Friend you had created for yourself. That she was his perfect match and could give him the life he deserved. That she could match his wit and depth and gentleness of spirit.

You left him there in the cafe, and did not look back. You felt like you had just torn your own heart out. In a way, you had. Part of you wished for rain. A real downpour to hide the tears that streaked your face as you sobbed all the way back to your hotel room.

When you came in, Stacy was waiting up for you. You told her everything. Through it all, you were wracked with sobs and shivering. You could tell she was confused at seeing this side of you. You had no jokes to downplay what you were feeling. All you could do was wallow in this grief. She held you in your bed, stroked your hair, and whispered words of comfort to you until you cried yourself to sleep in her arms. As your heavy lids closed, you couldn’t help but wish it was Gwilym’s familiar embrace around you. Dear Friend’s arms.

126 notes · View notes

chungledown-bimothy · 5 years

Text

Trust Me: Chapter 9

I cannot thank y’all enough for your patience. Hopefully the fact that it’s a relatively big chapter a little bit kinda makes up for the wait? Either way, thank you so much for reading, and I love you <3

Chapter 1 Chapter 8 AO3 Chapter 10

Warnings: A brief mention of the wounds from previous chapters’ violence, very briefly implied nsfw/daddy kink (to skip it, just don’t read the text messages after “Aww, you’re so sweet!”

Author’s Note: Again, the cipher is crackable with the information you have. (I’d argue that this one might be a bit harder, because I gave you fewer/subtler clues, but if you get how it’s encrypted, decoding it is a lot easier.) Shoutout to y’all who got last chapter’s! <3

Word Count: 3,660

Tag List: @ccecode @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn @ren-allen @ilovemygaydad @bloodropsblog @funsizedgremlin @raygelkitty @roxiefox23 @thomasthesandersengine @spookyingarbageisland @band-be-boss-blog

"The truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to the seeker after it," Virgil muttered. Running his hand through his hair, he looked up to see that it was 8:30. He'd been at his desk staring at a copy of the note for over two hours. There was something familiar about the phrase; the feeling that he'd heard it before played in the back of his mind, just out of reach. He was sure that it was the key to solving the entire thing.

God, I wish I remembered more from that cryptology class I took in college. Okay, time for a new approach. Clean slate, let's go through what we know about him, Virgil thought.

He's a man in his late twenties or early thirties. He's highly intelligent and well-educated, likely with a medical background of some sort. He's a mission-based killer, set on punishing people he feels got away with things, things the system should have punished them fore. Before Jason Dean, it seems. That change in victimology must be connected to why he sent this note, so I'll put a pin in that for now; I'll talk to Vincent about the autopsy report when he's done with it.

He seems divided; some of the torture is methodical, but some of it seems more motivated by rage than purpose. And then there's how he treats them. Mission-oriented killers don't often torture their victims; the payoff is from the kill itself. But he's feeding them, keeping them alive for a while so he can torture them.

Does he want them to know what he's done? That's it. He wants them to recognize their 'sins', perhaps even repent for them. He needs the validation that comes from them acknowledging his power and that he is correct.

Everything he does has a literal meaning and a symbolic one, he continued. Nothing has only one meaning. On the surface, he's saying that he knows that what he's doing is wrong, legally at least, but he finds it beautiful. Interesting choice of wording. Not right, not just. Beautiful. It feels like he cares more about the torture than the mission. But then why the remorse with the pseudo-burial? He's so full of contradictions. And then there's the bit at the end. "Publish me", he said, not "publish this". Which goes back to the fact that he's got one hell of an ego; he wants the focus on him. Which directly flies in the face of most mission oriented killers- they want the focus on their message.

I would almost think that there might be two unsubs, but two people being this organized and methodical is extremely unlikely. He's way too egotistical to cooperate with a partner, however submissive said partner might be.

So, we've got an incredibly smart unsub who knows it and feels like he isn't getting the attention he deserves. A younger child, maybe? Not that that would help us find him. Round up every smart, egotistical younger son in the city. We'd get the founders of every tech start-up in the city; it'd be Gentrifiers-R-Us. Virgil shook his head to clear out the unhelpful thoughts. Focus, Virge. You're on a clock. So, what kind of encryption does someone like that send? What kind of encryption has each word represented by three numbers? It's not a trifid cipher; none of the numbers would be bigger than three, and these numbers range from 1 to 192. Most number ciphers assign a number to each letter; no way in hell all of the words are three letters, and 192 and 26 do not play well together mathematically. Think, Virgil.

Fuck. Okay, let's try another new angle. The series of numbers at the end. Clearly not part of the message. 10 digits, but clearly not a phone number. 055 certainly isn't a US area code, and the number isn't long enough for a foreign dialing code plus the rest of the phone number. Wait. Maybe it's backwards? 310 is Los Angeles.

Virgil took out his phone and dialed 310-053-3550, heart in his throat. It rang twice before an automated voice informed him that "the number you have dialed is no longer in service". Damn. His heart started beating in an entirely different way when he saw that he had some new texts.

6:22 [Patton]- Hi cutie! Are you free, by any chance? It's been a really bad day, and seeing you always makes me feel so much better. <3

6:50 [Patton]- I was thinking we could get some dinner and then watch a movie or something at my place

7:48 [Patton]- Virge?

Virgil's stomach dropped. Oh god do they think I'm ignoring them? Oh shit. He quickly typed out a reply.

8:53[Virgil<3]- Hey, Pat, I'm here. I'm so, so sorry you're having a bad day. I can't hang out tonight, though. :'( I'd be with you if I could, though. It's been a rough one for me, too. Wanna talk about what's been bringing you down?

Their reply was almost instant.

[Patton]- Virgil! :D Aww, stormcloud, it's okay. Life happens; it wouldn't be healthy for either of us if you dropped everything when I'm just a little down. Besides, it was nothing, really. Just me being dramatic lol

Virgil felt himself blush at the endearment, but his brow furrowed reading the rest of the message.

[Virgil<3]- You sure? It also isn't healthy to bottle up your emotions. I care a lot about you and am always here if you want to talk about anything.

[Patton]- God, you're the sweetest! <3 I care a lot about you too. I promise, though, I really am fine. Do you wanna talk about what's bumming you out?

[Virgil<3]- I really wish I could, but I actually have to get back to it. I'll message you later <3

[Patton]- okie dokie. Don't work too late, okay?

He chuckled as he put his phone away and looked back at the note on his desk. Heather and Kurt are obviously people, Ram probably is too. Who are they, and what do they mean to him? The phone on his desk started to ring; Virgil jumped.

"H- hello? Detective Mason here." Virgil cursed himself for the shaky greeting.

"Virgil! I'm glad you're still here. It's Vincent. You said you wanted to know as soon as the autopsy was done; I'm waiting for a couple of particulates to come back, but the bulk of it is ready for you."

"Vincent, you are a lifesaver. I'll be down in a minute."

"Did you know that the candy Life Savers was invented in 1912 as a summer confectionary alternative to chocolate, which has a melting point of approximately 86 degrees?"

"I definitely did not know that, but I did know that they started as mints and didn't become the fruity candy we associate most with the brand now until the mid-1920s."

"Fruit flavors were introduced in 1921, to be exact, but they did not have holes in them like the mints did until 1925, which is probably the date to which you were referring."

Virgil laughed. "Damn, I thought I had you. I'll be right down." He hung up the phone and left for the morgue.

Three minutes later, he found himself being hugged by Dr. Nigel-Murray.

"I'm as touch-starved as the next gay, but why the hug? We just saw each other, like, five hours ago." Virgil looked slightly down at Vincent with a small smile.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to curb my workplace-inappropriate tendencies, but, barring once during a time of great stress, people in general don't respond in kind to my facts." Virgil's heart broke for the vulnerability and pain in his voice, and he made a mental note to learn as much trivia as possible.

"That's a damn shame. You're a great guy, Vince- let's get coffee or something once I've cracked this damn code."

"That sounds quite lovely, actually. What code, if I may ask?" Vincent's smile was appropriate for the fact that they were at work, but Virgil could tell that he was practically bouncing with excitement internally.

"Our killer sent a reporter a coded message. I've got about 21 hours to crack it if I want to get this guy to come to me."

"Not to overstep, but I've dabbled a bit in cryptography; perhaps I could be of some assistance?"

"I'd love another set of eyes on this, actually. Thank you! Here, give me your number, and I'll text you a picture of it once we've wrapped up here." Virgil pulled out his phone and unlocked it to find that his messages with Patton were still pulled up. He tried to stop himself from smiling, but he couldn't.

Vincent chuckled. "He must be pretty special, to get a smile like that out of you." Virgil blushed.

"Uh, yeah, they are. At least, I think so. I hope so." Virgil fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, refusing to make eye contact.

"Sorry about the pronoun flub. So, tell me about them!"

Virgil hesitated; opening up about his feelings certainly wasn't one of his strong suits, but he liked Vincent and wanted to be his friend.

“They’re incredible. Their name is Patton, and they run We Hart Coffee just a few blocks from here. They’re so funny and kind, and I’ve never seen a smile like theirs. It’s so genuine and infectious. The world genuinely is a brighter and happier place around them.”

“You really love them, huh?”

“I- What? No. No way. That’s way too cliche. We meet in a coffee shop and are in love within a couple of weeks? This is real life, and stuff like that only happens in movies and fanfiction. And completely unrealistic. What?" Virgil snapped, seeing the grin on Vincent's face.

"Trust me, Virgil. My first doctorate advisor, Doctor Brennan, was in deep denial of her love for her partner, Agent Booth. They're now happily married with two kids. I know what repressed love looks like, and you, my friend, have it in proverbial spades."

"I'm not sure that that's the right use for that cliche, and besides…" Virgil sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So what if you're right? Even if I did love them, which I don't, they don't love me back."

"Not yet, perhaps, but you're a great guy, Virgil. Smart, funny, caring, and quite handsome. If I were into men, I'm certain I would be half in love with you, myself. Just give them time."

"Christ, Vince, I'm gonna cry at work and ruin the tough-guy aesthetic I work so hard to maintain."

Vincent hummed his disbelief. "As much as I love chatting with you, I believe you're here about a murder. Follow me, if you will."

"Right. Murder." Virgil muttered before following him into the lab.

"So, you know who he is. 18 year old Mission High student Jason Dean. You saw the burns, frostbite, and acid damage. We were able to determine that the frostbite was caused by liquid nitrogen, and the killer used hydrochloric acid. We also found that while he was less dehydrated than the part victims, likely due to being held for only about a week, as opposed to two or three like previous victims, he was far more malnourished than the others."

"God, why is he changing so much? A kid, a shortened timetable, not feeding him. What was the cause of death?"

"Strychnine poisoning."

"See, that's a huge departure, too. All of the previous torture was from knives and hands. Why the sudden change to substances? Did he get injured, or is something else limiting his manual dexterity?"

"I don't know about any of that, but strychnine is a fairly popular poison in popular culture; Agatha Christie used it three times- in Mysterious Affair at Styles, The Coming of Mr. Quin, and How Does Your Garden Grow?, and Arthur Conan Doyle used it in-"

"Oh. OH. Vincent, I love you, you know-it-all." Virgil started pacing, running his fingers through his hair.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The Murder of Roger Ackroyd."

"What? Strychnine wasn't used in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd; Ackroyd was stabbed."

"Yes, I know. The note the killer sent. At the bottom of the code, he wrote 'the truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to the seeker after it'. It seemed so familiar, but I couldn't place it until you just brought up Agatha Christie. Poirot said it in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. The number. I'm an idiot."

"Breathe, Virgil. I assume that you just cracked the code?"

"Not quite. But I cracked our unsub. I knew it. I knew he'd hand me the answer. I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out."

"Okay, so how does The Murder of Roger Ackroyd help you?"

"Under the quote is a thirteen digit number. I'd bet my life that it's an ISBN for a specific printing of the book. It's an Arnold Cipher. Each series of three numbers is a page, line, and word. It was staring me in the face. I truly am Boo-Boo the Fool." Vincent was puzzled by Virgil's last sentence, but Virgil was far too agitated for questioning it to be prudent.

Virgil took a deep breath. "Okay, sorry about that. So, back to Jason?"

"Oh, right. Jason. Um, the only other thing of note that we have found at this point are fibers from a 1950s Volkswagen Beetle."

"That's gonna help a ton, as well. Vincent, you are my hero!" Virgil scooped him up into a big hug before leaving the morgue, leaving Vincent speechless for the first time in his life.

Virgil ran back up to his desk, furiously typing in his password. It took him three tries to correctly enter the number into the San Francisco Public Library website's search bar. He eventually got it, and there it was. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie. And two copies were available. The library didn't open until 12 pm the next day, however, so he went home after setting an alarm on his phone and sending a quick text to Patton.

9:52 [To:Patton]- Hey, wanna get dinner tomorrow night?

He was ecstatic to see a message from them when he got home.

9:55 [Patton]- Absolutely! You got the problem worked out? :D

10:10 [Virgil <3]- I found the solution, and will get it resolved by the end of the week. I'll pick you up on Friday at 7? We'll take a walk in the park and then House of Prime Rib, on me?

[Patton]- Are we celebrating something? Or are you trying to tell me you want to be my sugar daddy? ;P

[Virgil <3]- Trust me, Pat, if I had sugar daddy money, I'd love nothing more than to spoil you rotten. But nah, it's a combination of a small celebration and an apology for being unavailable today and for the next few days until Friday. (and i may or may not be buttering you up in hopes you'll share what's bringing you down)

[Patton]- Aww, you're so sweet! <3 (Can I call you daddy anyway?)

[Virgil <3]- Only if you want to be rewarded, baby. ;)

[Patton]- I'll be a good boy for you, daddy, I promise.

Virgil noted their preferred appellation and responded in kind with a wicked smile.

--------

The next morning, Virgil woke up half an hour before his alarm was set to go off, feeling more relaxed than he had in months. I'm finally going to get this guy.

Figuring there was no point in just waiting around, he got ready and went right to work. He knew Captain Sanders would want a breakdown of the previous night's findings before he could start following the leads he had gotten from Vincent the previous night.

He got to the station and immediately started looking into Jason Dean and the possible claim that he was a murderer. It didn't take him long to find that three Mission High students committed suicide 2 months prior named Heather, Kurt, and Ram. Virgil tracked down the police reports for the deaths. By all accounts, they appeared to be through-and-through suicides. If Jason did kill them, the killer would need to be quite close to either one of the victims or Jason himself. Linking the suicides would imply that he's close to all of them. Maybe through school? Science classes are more than likely to have liquid nitrogen and hydrochloric acid. Any teacher would have access, but I'll look more into science teachers in particular. He's displayed some anatomical knowledge as well.

Captain Sanders walked into the precinct, calling for Virgil to follow him into his office.

"So, what do you have?" he asked, after they'd arrived and shut the door.

"The note is a book cipher based on Agatha Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. The library has a copy of the specific edition I need to crack it, so I'm going to pick that up at noon, as soon as the library opens. Looking into the 'murderer' thing, there were three suicides at Mission High 5 months ago, whose names match the three not-coded words in the note- Heather, Kurt, and Ram. If they were murdered by Jason, that means the killer is close to one of them, most likely Jason himself. I think that's what the killer is alluding to in the note, but we'll see once I've decoded it. Add in the liquid nitrogen, and it points to a teacher, likely a science teacher. So I'm going to crack the code and look for other insights into him and look into Mission High science teachers. I have an updated profile, and I'll email that to you right away."

"That sounds wonderful, Mason. You've been doing excellent work; we're glad to have you."

Virgil shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I'm just doing my best, sir. If you'll excuse me, the library is about to open, and I'd like to get the book as soon as possible."

"Sounds great to me! Just send me that profile before you go."

"Will do, sir. Thank you." Virgil turned and left the room, hurrying to his computer before rushing to the library.

A short while later, he was back at his desk with a battered copy of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. It wasn't difficult to decode the message, but it did take a bit of time and a lot of counting and re-counting. Word by word, the message became clear: He killed Heather, Kurt, and Ram. Find the weapon; I know he had it. It is your evidence.

Virgil sat back in his chair once he'd finished, puzzled by what the note revealed that he hadn't already deduced. 'He' has to be referring to Jason. He knew we'd find out the reasons for him choosing the previous victims, but he needed to be sure we'd know why he thinks Jason deserved to die. I looked at the police reports for those deaths; the gun used to kill Ram and Sweeney was recovered on-site and is in police custody. He's obsessed with his mission, though. He wouldn't make this claim if he wasn't sure. I'll look into that once we've caught our killer. For my peace of mind, at least. Virgil cracked his knuckles and picked up his phone.

"Roman Prince, SFGate, how can I help you?"

"Roman, it's Detective Mason. Can you come down to the station right away?" The responding scream was so loud, Virgil had to move his phone away from his ear. "I'll take that as a yes?"

"Absolutely, Detective. I will be there as soon as physically possible."

"Don't break any traffic l-" The line went dead, cutting Virgil off.

Far sooner than could have been legal, Roman skidded to a stop in front of Virgil's desk.

"HelloVirgildidyoucrackthecode?DoIgettowritearesponse?CanI-"

"BREATHE, Roman." Virgil stood, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Yes, I cracked the code. Yes, you will publish a response tonight. But I'm writing it. I assume your laptop is in your bag?" Roman simply nodded- he knew that if he tried to speak, he'd start rambling again. "Fantastic. Let's get going."

45 minutes (and one call from Captain Sanders to Dan Humphrey about how not allowing it to be posted immediately would be obstruction of justice) later, a new post was live on SFGate's website. It was 4:02 pm, two hours before the deadline.

An Open Letter to U N Owen

It was a pleasure hearing from you. While I obviously cannot condone your methods, you are correct that our justice system is imperfect, and those imperfections need addressing. You gave me quite a puzzle, and I enjoyed solving it. It was clever, but not clever enough. I hope you'll forgive me for not following your directions; please let me know if this is inadequate.

Vq rwv kv dnwpvna, aqw'tg ytqpi. Jg fqgup'v jcxg kv, yg fq. Yg'xg jcf kv htqo vjg xgta dgikppkpi. Dwv aqw cntgcfa mpqy vjcv. Aqw'tg hct vqq engxgt vq jcxg pqv mpqyp vjcv. Wpnguu K'o qxgtguvkocvkpi aqw, yjkej ku c fghkpkvg rquukdknkva. Aqwt qvjgt cuugtvkqp jcu dggp pqvgf, cpf K uygct vq aqw vjcv K yknn rwtuwg vjcv qpeg yg ugvvng vjku ocvvgt dgvyggp wu.

Hqt pqy, vjqwij, aqw ujqwnf mpqy vjcv aqw'xg iqvvgp unqrra, cpf vjcv kv'u qpna c ocvvgt qh vkog dghqtg K hkpf aqw cpf tgrca aqw kp vjg ngicn hqto qh vjg eqkp aqw icxg vjgo. Aqw yknn (ogvcrjqtkecnna) jcpi hqt vjku.

Sincerely,

Det. Mason Poirot II

--------------------

Logan refreshed SFGate.com for the thirteenth time that day and was finally rewarded for his tenacity; the post was less than five minutes old. He read it twice, rage simmering in his chest and a smile on his face. "Detective Mason," he said to his empty apartment, "a worthy adversary indeed. The game is on."

#virgil sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #ts ff #roman sanders #patton sanders #moxiety #analogical #prinxiety #sanders sides #trust me #trust me fic #my writing #serial killer au

9 notes · View notes

naylar-draws · 6 years

Note

so like could you tell us why strickler deserved to die

Lol I was not expecting someone to ask about that tag!

Boy oh boy ask and you shall recieve

(I did not intend for the reply to be this long but like here’s another essay length meta)

I don’t think Strickler as a character deserved to die, he’s far from the most heinous character in TH. But from a storytelling standpoint, I think killing him off in the s3 finale would have improved Trollhunters as a whole. For that point to make sense I’m gonna need to explain a few things first:

~1700 words under the cut

1) It is more or less an unspoken rule that if an action/adventure oriented story (be it a show, film, book, etc) wants to feel like it has real stakes, a character needs to die. Not just any character, but a main character or an important side character. This isn’t always the case, and I personally don’t think that there needs to be a death to make a story feel more real (No one died in ATLA’s finale), but that’s the trend and is often the easiest, most basic way to things. If utilized right, it can have a huge impact (Ned Stark in game of thrones, Boromir in fellowship)

2) A good finale/climax of a story wraps up the story’s themes and emotional core. It emphasizes it in some way, or offers commentary on it. IMHO a lot of TV and comic book finales can fall short because this. And its not necessarily the creators’ faults, its simply the structure of the industry. Often times a tv finale will be made before the creative team knows whether or not there will be a next season, or they’ll only be given a handful of episodes to wrap up the series. Same with comics. Good climaxes that incorporate a story’s theme off the top of my head are TAZ Balance, Guardians of the Galaxy, and Rocky.

3) A character death needs to mean something, either as a way to complete their character arc, or to comment on some overarching theme, or even to further another character’s development. (Boromir again, Gamora in Infinity War - yes I know she’s coming back - all the fucks that die in Last Stand of the Wreckers)

4) Positive actions should have payoffs. This is kind of cynical, but narratively, if a story wants to say that something is good, there should be a tangential positive effect for that action. For example, in TAZ balance, the theme is that you should choose love and that the bonds we build in life are just like really awesome man, and in the finale those bonds were actively used as a positive game mechanic which helped the heroes to defeat the enemy. Even if the story’s message is that we should do good even if it doesn’t benefit us, there’s still a positive effect to doing good that needs to be portrayed, for instance it could be “gets you into heaven” “makes you happy“ or “helps other people”.

Okay so that out of the way, I’m going to look at all of this through the lens of Trollhunters as a standalone series, instead of a trilogy. I know that there might be reasons the creative team decided to kill off some characters and not others that’ll be made apparent in Wizards. But since Wizards is a separate tv show from TH, its quality and the quality of Trollhunters should be looked at both individually as well as together. And since Wizards ain’t out I’m looking at TH on its own.

Oki Doki so, onto the meat of it. Trollhunters doesn’t really have any overarching theme or message. Bravery and becoming a hero could be contenders but imo that’s kinda lukewarm. I think an unrealized theme that could’ve been is that of redemption, and the idea that people can change if motivated to do so or offered a chance. One of the things that makes Tollhunters interesting and unique is its sheer amount of redeemed villains. We have Draal in the first six episodes, then Strickler, NotEnrique, Nomura, and Angor Rot. Not to mention Steve, and Aaarrrgghh, whose redemption arc happened before the show started. There are more redeemed villains than villains that stay villains.

And then there’s the people that change but not for the better, like Merlin, who apparently was once a pure and ideal heart, and potentially Morgana.

And then there’s Jim, who is remarkable because of his heart. He gives people chances, offers them friendship where other Trollhunters would have antagonized them. The theme would be basically give people a chance/the benefit of the doubt, reach out an olive branch, it might just make them friends. (And if they don’t take the opportunity to improve murder their faces.)

The TH climax was adequate, it wrapped up the plot, set up for a sequel, and had a decent escalation of action. But honestly, I personally thought the build up to the finale was much better than the finale itself. Though this is just like my opinion man, and if anyone thought it was great, cool.

The character that dies in the finale is Angor Rot. He changes sides and sacrifices himself helping the team battle Morgana. And, like, I always found it just kind of… meh? Like I’m sad that he died he was a great character but his death scene seems so pointless (like Draal’s). As I mentioned on point 3, Angor’s death doesn’t really mean anything. It doesn’t further another character, comment on a theme, and it’s an okay I guess conclusion to his redemption arc. The issue I have with it is that it’s not the natural conclusion to an arc for a character like him to have. We are never told that Angor Rot fears death. He died once and was miffed about it, but we never see an aversion to dying again. No, we see that Angor’s greatest fears are Morgana, and fading away or some shit. If the creators wanted to really write Angor off the show what they should have done was have him be the one to tackle Morgana into the shadow realm and never come back, thus facing an eternity with the one he fears most, the person who stole his soul and turned him into a slave.

BUT IF SOMEONE HAS TO DIE I think an even better death that would have been even better for the show, would be if Strickler sacrificed himself instead and Angor Rot was used to parallel Draal at the beginning of season 1. This would ultimately bring the show full circle and tie the finale in with the rest of the show, and helped realize a theme about redemption.

Strickler would have to sacrifice himself at some other conveniently point that relates to his character more, and the whole finale would have to be restructured, but here’s why I think it would’ve been better:

Strickler is a character who is introduced in the very beginning of the show and remains a constant throughout. He has the most nuanced and prolonged redemption arc of all the characters. He starts out as a self-serving Starscream trope who looks out for himself above all else. Throughout the show, he falls in love with someone and forms a father/son bond with Jim. If you follow the sort of character arc of someone who starts off cowardly and selfish and then learns to care about others to its logical conclusion, you find yourself at the point where the character must sacrifice something in order to prove their change, usually what they originally value most. Throughout the show we see Strickler try so hard and do so much to preserve his own life. What Strickler at the beginning of TH values most is obviously his own life. This is a man who greatly fears death. I’m sure you see where I’m going with this.

It would have been a great conclusion to his character if he sacrificed himself in order to save Barbara and/or Jim. Also it would show that positive payoff to Jim choosing to trust Strickler. If Jim hypothetically didn’t trust Strickler and give him a chance to redeem himself, then hypothetically Strickler wouldn’t be able to sacrifice himself and thus Barbara would hypothetically die.

But who knows, Strickler could die in wizards ;)

Strickler dying would also leave room for Angor Rot surviving. And Angor Rot surviving if done right, could be used to further development with Jim and reinforce that he still has his heart despite sacrificing his humanity. It could also give a reason to Draal’s pointless death (further Jim’s and Angor’s developement).

Here’s what I propose could’ve been done with Angor Rot if he didn’t die: He can turn on Morgana and maybe even appear like he’s going to die. Jim is given a choice of whether or not to save Angor Rot, and maybe at this point or sometime previous in the finale reiterate that Angor killed Draal and Jim’s mad about it. Jim is half troll now, he’s different, angrier and less forgiving, maybe all of its getting to him and the audience is made to wonder if Jim might become more like Merlin (who was once like Jim but became crueler) or if he still has the heart that made him so great in the first place. He’s at a crossroads deciding which path he’s going to go down. And then Jim saves Angor. Have it mirror in some way when Jim spared Draal that first time. Have Angor react similarly, being confused about it and be like “but I killed your buddy, you should let me die as revenge”, and maybe have Jim say something about how that’s not how he does it.

And then, and now I’m just going off and doing that whole “what I would’ve done” thing, but like and then as positive payoff to the good action of choosing to save Angor what if there’s one last scene at the end and it’s in Merlin’s tomb. We see Draal’s stony corpse, and then before it is a cauldron like how we saw with Aaarrrgghh, and it’s all steaming. And Angor’s hand stirs it. Then there’s a wide shot and we see Angor Rot standing before Draal’s corpse as it starts to fade back to living stone. Then Draal opens his eyes. And then cut to black credits role.

But like all of this just my opinion man. My rambling overly critical opinion that would get me weird looks if I talked about it irl lol

#ask #trollhunters #tales of arcadia #walter strickler #meta #words? on my art blog??

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mrswhozeewhatsis · 7 years

Text

The Babysitter - Chapter 1

A/N: This has been in the works for over a year. It started at my NaNoWriMo fic in 2016, and I picked it back up for NaNoWriMo this year. It is finally finished, and I can’t wait to hear what you all think of it! Special thanks to @manawhaat and @nitelotus who both read this entire monster and gave me invaluable help and encouragement, as well as put up with me angsting about it. I will try to post at least one chapter a day.

Summary: The Winchester boys have been your life since the first time you babysat them when you were 15. Their father was the standard against which you compared all other men. After he died, you kept going for your boys, giving them everything. Now, ten years later, he’s back and you’ve changed. Will things be different this time?

Total length - 65 Chapters, 103k words - Read on AO3

Although this is a John fic, there is a lot of Dean and Sam, too. (So much Weechesters!!) This story has a lot of flashbacks, which will be in italics, and the year of each flashback will be at the start so you don’t get confused. This story is canon-compliant up to about episode 11.22 - We Happy Few, and diverges from there.

Pairing: John x Reader (there will be other side pairings, which will be mentioned when they appear)

Warnings: Canon-level violence and angst. Any other warnings will be mentioned as needed.

Chapter word count: 1104 words

1984

“Something killed his wife, and almost took the baby. He’s in bad shape, Patrick. He needs a firm hand with a gentle touch, and someone to watch the kids. I got no problem with the older boy, but I don’t know anything about diapers,” Bobby said.

“Y/N’s been working at a daycare the past few months to earn spending money. She’s been doing real good there, too. She’ll be good with the kids, and Nancy and me can take care of the dad. Between the three of us, we’ll find the son of a bitch that killed his wife lickety split and get them back to being a normal family before they get sucked in too far. You’ve got my word, Bobby.”

“I know, Patrick. You’re good people.”

You came around the corner, then, to see your dad and Bobby clinking the necks of their beer bottles together. Your dad pulled you under his arm and gave you a good squeeze.

“Hey, munchkin, how do you feel about babysitting a 1-year old and a 5-year old for a few days here at Bobby’s while your mom and I teach their dad a thing or two?”

You shrugged. “I already quit the daycare since school’s out and I figured I’d be on the road with you guys full time, anyway. I can handle a couple of kids, especially with Bobby here to lend a hand if I need it.”

Your dad smiled. “Good girl. I knew we could count on you.”

The rumbling sound of an older car grew as tires hit gravel. By the time the car stopped, you could feel the vibrations of the engine in the floorboards beneath your feet. You went to the door to see who the newcomer was while your dad continued chatting with Bobby. Out of the car stepped the tallest man you’d ever seen, all dark hair and stubbly beard with his shoulders slumped so low you thought he must have the weight of the world resting on them. He glanced at the house with tired eyes, and you thought about what you’d heard Bobby say about his wife.

The stranger opened the rear door of the car and reached in, giving your teenage hormones a terrific view of his ass. You mentally slapped yourself for even having the thought. The man just lost his wife and you’re staring at his ass? You were raised better than that! He pulled a little tow-headed boy out of the car, and set him on the ground near his feet. The boy stayed exactly where his father had put him, his eyes on his dad the whole time. The man reached farther into the car, and emerged with a baby in his arms. He said something to the boy, and the boy climbed back in the car, coming back out with a diaper bag almost as big as he was. The man shut the car door, and the trio approached the house.

You opened the door for them, trying not to stare. The father was drop-dead gorgeous, and his children were beautiful.

“Hey, Bobby. Got somewhere I can take care of Sammy? I think he dropped a bomb in his diaper about an hour ago. Been driving with the windows down ever since.”

You stepped up, thinking that this man probably just needed a break. “I can take care of him for you, if you want. I’ve been watching kids from newborns to 10 years old at a daycare, so I know all the tricks.”

The man looked at your outstretched hands with hesitation, then looked at Bobby.

“John, this is Y/N. She’s Patrick and Nancy’s daughter. She’s 15, and raised in the life, so she knows about protection. I’ve known her since she was ten. They’re good people, John. They’re willing to help.”

Your dad waved since John’s hands were full. “Nice to meet you, John. My wife and I want to help you, and Y/N is great with kids. You’ll all be in good hands with us, I promise.”

John looked you over suspiciously, then glanced at Bobby and your dad again before slowly handing little Sammy over to you. You got hit with the smell of poopy diaper right away and made a face.

“Lord, you weren’t lyin’. I’ll get him cleaned up and smelling like Heaven in no time, sir.” Securing Sammy in your arms, you looked at his brother. “And what’s your name?”

The little boy stood stock still next to his father, staring at you even more suspiciously than his father had, but didn’t say a word.

“That’s Dean. He doesn’t say much these days.”

Looking down at Dean, you motioned for the diaper bag. “Hey there, Dean. Mind if I take that bag off your hands so I can go change your brother?”

Dean gripped the bag tighter and shook his head.

“Dean, let her have the bag or Sammy’s gonna start screaming bloody murder soon.” John scolded. “Not to mention he’s stinkin’ up the joint.”

Dean was still staring at you, holding his brother. He reminded you of one of the kids in the daycare who had also been through a lot, and wouldn’t let his little sister out of his sight.

“It’s okay. I bet Dean would rather come with me and help me, anyway. Isn’t that right, Dean?”

Dean nodded, but still wouldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Okie dokie, Dean, then follow me and we’ll get your brother all cleaned up.” In the corner of your eye, you watched as Dean followed you, never taking his eyes off of you and his brother. As you settled in the living room, Dean handed you the diaper bag, and you changed Sam’s diaper with Dean’s eagle eyes never leaving you. When Sam tried to squirm, Dean sat down on the floor by his head and played with his fingers to distract him while you finished the job. Once Sammy was all clean, you packed everything away again and looked at Dean.

“Thank you so much for helping me, Dean. I bet you’re great at taking care of your brother, aren’t you?”

Dean nodded, helping his little brother get to his feet. Sammy stood next to Dean, reaching out and smiling at his brother, babbling, “De! De! De!”

Dean gave his little brother a rough smile that broke your heart. “Yeah, Sammy. That’s me.”

With a tentative hand, you reached out and brushed some dirt off of Dean’s sleeve. “You mind if I help you take care of your brother for a while?”

The little boy nodded, but said nothing.

PART 2

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#incoherent babbling by mrswhozeewhatsis #mrswhozeewhatsis writes #john x reader #john angst #john winchester #spn fan fiction #the babysitter

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