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hyperpsychomaniac · 3 years

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Who Says You Can't Go Home - Chapter 10

Darkwing Duck (90s series) fanfiction

Sequel to my recent fanfic The Other Side of Me

Summary: Down on his luck, the Negaverse Launchpad crashes at Launchpad’s parents looking for help. Launchpad, who has avoided visiting his family since he started working with Darkwing, returns in a panic to ensure his double isn’t causing trouble. And then it gets awkward.

Chapter 1

***

The Negaverse Launchpad stayed another two days, until Darkwing called to let them know Negaduck was safely put away, for now, and he was ready to help Launchpad find the portal to send him back to the Negaverse. As much as he didn’t want to leave so soon something torn up and long buried inside had tugged at him ever since he’d made his declaration to Negaduck, telling him it was time to return home to his true family. Not that this universe’s McQuacks had not been like family to him. And that’s what made saying goodbye so hard.

Though she had only known him a few days Loopey hugged him tightly. “Don’t forget to tell that sister of yours how awesome I am too.” She’d asked him many questions about his Loopey. It had been simply curiosity, but it had helped Launchpad dig up the good memories he had of his sister, the things he hadn’t messed up. It had given him hope that, once he returned to the Negaverse and found her, she just might not tear him to shreds.

Launchpad hugged him next. He held him for a long moment, crushing him against his chest. When he pushed him back his brow was furrowed. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright over there?”

The Negaverse Launchpad grinned and clapped his double on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy. You’re not abandoning me. You didn’t the first time either. This time, I think I might just have a bit more of an idea what I’m doing. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know how easy those portal things are to find, or get going. But if you ever need help, me and DW are just one universe over.”

Birdie grasped the Negaverse Launchpad’s hands, and sniffed. “Be careful over there, baby. We’re going to miss you.”

“Aw, Mrs McQuack.” Launchpad wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll be alright. At least you know I’m not going to get all angry and pick stupid fights I don’t need to now. You guys, and your son, you taught me that.”

Birdie smiled up at him, her eyes watery. “You are literally going over there to join a resistance. Sounds like you’re picking a pretty big fight to me, but…” she said, as he opened his mouth to protest. “At least its for a good reason. You put that Negaduck in his place. Just be careful. Oh, and this is for you.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a packet, and handed it to him.

Launchpad unfolded the enclosing flap with a frown. It was only when he pulled out the small stack of photographs that he realised what they were. Photographs were not non-existent in the Negaverse. Often you simply had other concerns, like survival, that took precedent over the taking and hoarding of sentimental keepsakes. “You want me to have these?” His voice caught over the lump that had risen to his throat.

“Most are just ones of the family I dug up and I thought you might like to remember us by. But…”

Launchpad carefully shuffled through them, and came to the two as Birdie spoke.

“… I did manage to snap a couple of you and Ripcord when you were working on that plane together. You were both so absorbed talking to each other and positively covered in grease, I couldn’t resist. I thought you’d like them.”

“Are you sure?”

Birdie winked. “I have more than enough photos of my husband covered in grease.”

Launchpad and Loopey both winced. “Mom!”

“You got doubles?” Ripcord asked his wife.

“Of course. And I always keep the film.”

Launchpad slipped the photos into his jacket, and turned to Ripcord. He and Mrs McQuack had done so much for him since he’d crashed onto their front lawn and he didn’t know what to say to the man who against what had to be all better judgment had taken him under his wing. Heck he’d actually cared about him enough to get riled up and confront Negaduck, no matter how reckless that had been. No one had ever done that for him, and it had never even occurred to Launchpad that someone should. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry and void of words.

But it didn’t matter, because Ripcord took him by the shoulders and all but dragged him around to face him. “Hey, look at me, son. I don’t care how anyone thinks they have a right to treat you like. You deserve to be respected, and loved, and if you ever can’t find that over in the Negaverse, even if you can’t make your way back to us, I want you to remember you will always have that here. You got that?”

Tears filled Launchpad’s eyes. He threw his arms around Ripcord’s neck, breath hitching in his throat. “You guys have just… thanks for being my Mom and Dad these past few months. I love you both.”

The Negaverse Launchpad climbed into the Thunderquack’s cockpit, where Gosalyn waited for him. He waved to the McQuack’s with her, then focused on starting up the powerful aeroplane. All had had to do was get the blasted thing up into the air and leave. He could do this. An ache tugged at his chest as the McQuack family swung out of view. He wiped hastily at the corner of his eyes as they pulled up into the air, and he did not look behind him.

“Hey,” Gosalyn squeezed his arm. “You okay? I mean, you’re not going to crash or something?”

Launchpad grinned. “Come on, kiddo. You know I never crash.”

Gosalyn threw out her arms. “You literally showed me the skid mark where you crashed when you go here!”

“Had a broken arm. Didn’t count.”

“But…”

“Now, come on, we can’t waste time arguing like this. Your dad knows we’re leaving now, right? I reckon if I go full tilt we can get you home before he starts to worry, but still have plenty of time to get into some mischief. What do you want to do?”

A grin slowly spread across Gosalyn’s face.

***

The McQuack’s spent the next few days repairing their front hallway from the gashes Negaduck had hacked into it with his chainsaw. DIY was not beyond them, although they were all better at repairing aeroplanes, and the damage was quickly patched up. Birdie hadn’t quite trusted their skill with the kitchen however, and she and Ripcord had decided they would get it replaced professionally.

Now they were all in the living room, sorting through the photos Negaduck had knocked down. As the whole family was finally together, it was the perfect opportunity to see if they could dig up any different ones to put up. Some had been completely destroyed but, luckily, Birdie had many spares. She’d tugged out a number of large boxes from various cupboards around the house, and added them to the photos already there.

Launchpad sat next to his father on the sofa, his leg almost touching his. Ripcord had taken every opportunity to sit close to his son, sometimes almost awkwardly. It was kind of sweet, but also didn’t help Launchpad’s worry for his dad. He knew he hadn’t intended to put him in danger and had nothing to try make up for. All he could think of doing had been to give his father a quick squeeze around the shoulders, just to let him know he wasn’t uncomfortable with him being close to him like when he’d first arrived, and hope it would eventually sink in that his son was still there.

Birdie rushed past them, and opened another cupboard. Despite the half dozen boxes scattered around, she had insisted on continuing the search. Apparently she hadn’t found them all yet.

Ripcord sighed. “Honey, I think we’ve got plenty here to go through already.”

“I’m looking for something specific… yes!” She came back, not with a box, but a single photograph folder clutched to her chest. It was old, and yellowing, and far from pelting it onto the table like she had the other loose folders she’d found, she cradled it carefully.

Ripcord frowned. “They heck are those? Wedding photos or something?”

Birdie pressed the folder into her husband’s hands, but held on, stopping him from opening it right away. “We don’t have to put this up if seeing it upsets you. But, well, I had these stashed.” She sniffed. “I mean, you threw away the first prints, so…”

Ripcord gently took the folder from her and opened it.

Launchpad leaned over his father’s shoulder. “Dad, why’d you throw away photos?”

“I didn’t realise you knew I’d pitched them,” Ripcord said thickly.

“Of course I did, silly. This is why I always keep the film.”

Launchpad watched as his father shuffled through them, slowly, with a faint shake in his hands. At first, there seemed nothing remarkable about the photographs, save that they were quite old. Photos, many of Loopey of a baby, and of the family, and of him when he would have been about five. Ripcord stopped as he revealed one of him in the cockpit of a small plane that Launchpad couldn’t remember, on the ground, with one very excited five year old strapped to his lap.

Ripcord sniffed, putting a hand to his beak. Then he leaned over into Launchpad’s shoulder and held the photos where his son could easily see. Launchpad grabbed the photo’s edge, his hand touching his father’s. “Launchpad,” Ripcord said, his voice wavering, “You don’t remember this… but… this is the first time… I took you up in an aeroplane. That, that was the day…”

Launchpad put an arm around his father’s shoulders. “Dad, it’s okay. We already talked about this.”

Ripcord looked at his son and, with tears in his eyes, smiled. “That was the day you asked me to teach you to be a pilot.”

***

The Negaverse. One month later.

It was hard to appear non-threatening when you straight up waltzed into the secret headquarters of the resistance formed against your former boss. Especially when he had declared you dead.

A dozen weapons leaped out of jackets and holsters, muzzles tilted up to train upon their target. Launchpad towered over the ragtag group of fighters, and as he eyed them all slowly, the corner of his beak twitching up into a scowl. Man, Loopey was really scraping the bottom of the barrel here.

When he’d been unable to immediately locate Gosalyn, Launchpad had started searching for his sister. He’d trailed the resistance’s attacks on Negaduck’s proprieties and equipment, but when he spoke with anyone who had seen Loopey’s operatives in action, or even helped them, none could tell him where her cell was. If they knew, they hadn’t been keen to share with someone who had worked for Negaduck. And no matter how nicely he’d asked, his lack of aggression only seemed to confuse people more.

Frustrated, he’d eventually caught one of the operatives. It had sent a thrill through him to find him wearing a Darkwing costume. He’d scared the hell out of the poor guy with how excited he’d got, and his catch had flat out clammed up when he’d asked about Gosalyn. Where Loopey’s headquarters were, however, he seemed less keen to put his life on the line to protect. Not that Launchpad had used anything he’d learned from Negaduck to weasel it out of him. The threat had been enough, and even then he hadn’t made any actual threats, just paced and muttered to himself about what he was going to do with his captured prey until he’d cracked.

One of the fighters edged forward. Quackerjack was still dressed in the Darkwing costume Launchpad had last seen him in, when he’d found him and the other three in the company of Gosalyn. “Alright, playtime’s over. Put him down, nice and slow.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Launchpad had completely forgotten he still clutched Megavolt by the collar, his feet swinging clear of the floor. He set him down, gently. “I didn’t hurt him,” he said, for whatever that was worth. His reputation was preceding him, and whilst that had been helpful prying information from Megavolt, it was not serving him well now.

Megavolt stayed at Launchpad’s feet, trembling.

“Get over here, you idiot,” Quackerjack muttered with a wave of his rifle.

Megavolt bolted over and hid behind him. “He took my hat!”

“I didn’t… you dropped it!” Launchpad closed his eyes briefly, then raised his empty hands slowly. “I don’t want any trouble. I’ve come to see the Pink Baroness.”

“Yeah?” said Quackerjack. “On who’s orders?”

“No ones. I’m done with Negaduck.”

The fighters all exchanged looks. Some of the weapons lowered.

“Alright. But keep those hands where I can see them. No funny business. And, guys, check him for weapons.”

It took nearly a full minute for anyone to work up the courage to approach him. After much whispering, it was decided the safest option was for everybody to, simultaneously, pat him down. This resulted in far more pawing than Launchpad was comfortable with. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and kept his hands raised. If this had been before he’d left the Negaverse he would’ve snapped within seconds. As it was he could feel his jaw gritting tighter and tighter until, finally, someone declared: “I think he’s clean.”

“You’re sure?” asked Quackerjack.

“Pretty sure you’ve checked every crevice,” Launchpad growled.

Loopey’s fighters led him deeper into the warehouse. With every weapon trained upon him, which true to Negaverse standards included a fair number of rocket launchers, Launchpad really hoped a rat or something didn’t startle anyone.

Megavolt pushed open a door. A long table took up the middle of the room, a miniature Saint Canard set upon it. Some of it was actual scale models of buildings and vehicles, some simply tin cans and bits of rubbish pressed into service. A bright fluorescent light swung overhead, throwing shifting shadows across the half dozen resistance fighters crowded about the setup.

Bushroot leaned in and poked a leafy tendril at what Launchpad assumed was one of Saint Canard’s sad excuses for a park. “I know there’s not a lot of stuff still alive, but I should be able to coax the poor little fellas into helping us pull down Negaduck’s hanger.”

“Yeah, this is good. We’ll teach that selfish creep to close off ‘his’ airspace.” She still wore her worn and weathered pink jacket, torn off at the sleeves like her brothers, revealing bare arms. Her jeans were black, but the pink showed up again in her worn and greasy steel toed boots. Her hair was a cut in a mohawk, tipped in pink, and she’d never cared a damn that most folks thought pink a ‘weak’ colour. She’d soon set them straight.

“Loopey…” Her name slipped from Launchpad’s beak on a breath before he knew it.

His sister shielded her eyes as as she looked past the bright light. “Someone tell this joker I don’t go by that name any…” She stiffened, then took the cigar from her beak and snuffed it out in the ash tray beside her, never taking her eyes from her brother. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Launchpad gulped. “I’ve been looking for you. I’ve come to join your resistance.”

“You’re supposed to be dead. You selfish…” Loopey stomped towards him and her resistance fighters parted before her. Her fist flashed out like a snake and Launchpad barely registered the pink studded gloves, a new addition to her outfit, before they ripped across his beak. “… bastard. How dare you come here!”

Launchpad hissed and clapped his hands to his face. The blow stung; he could taste copper in the back of his throat. He drew in deep breaths, eyes squeezed tightly shut, until the pain lessened to a manageable level. When he looked up, Loopey had her fists raised. Her fighters’ weapons were again trained on him. Because no one in the Negaverse would let a cheap shot like that go without fighting back. Launchpad wiped his arm across his beak with a sniff, then let his hands drop to his sides and stared his sister down.

A frown creased Loopey’s beak. “You must think I’m an idiot. You realise how this looks, right? Negaduck says your dead. Then you rock up here, pretending you want to help? You were his right hand man.”

“I know,” he said thickly. “And I don’t know how to prove to you I’ve changed, but…”

“Launchpad!” Everyone jumped, which was rather concerning with so many weapons in play. A small something darted nimbly between the fighters, followed by a looping tendril of water.

“Now, just wait… you can’t… Gosalyn!” Liquidator gurgled. He wrapped watery arms around his charge just as she reached the front of the crowd, but she exploded through before he could nab her.

All that time searching, especially as he hadn’t been able to locate Gosalyn quickly, and without the support he’d had when he was staying with the McQuacks, had been taxing. Launchpad had questioned his resolve, his ability, and if he really could accomplish his mission without resorting to some of his old Negaverse ways. All he’d wanted was to find someone he knew, despite all his failures, would be there for him. His heart rose in his throat, his knees buckled and he dropped, arms flung open wide.

Gosalyn barreled into him with such force it knocked Launchpad back and he sat down hard on the concrete floor. “You’re alive!”

“Gos.” Launchpad buried his face in her hair. “Aw, kiddo. I’m so, so sorry for abandoning you. And not being there for you with Negaduck, and… I wish I’d been stronger for you.”

“Launchpad, none of that was your fault.”

Oh, how he’d missed that incorruptible little face. “I know. But I’m gonna make it up to you, promise.”

“Alright, wise guy, let our daughter go right now.” Megavolt had recovered from his kidnapping ordeal. He stood over them, electricity playing at his fingertips, alongside Bushroot, Quackerjack, and Liquidator. They loomed over him to form an impressive front of very, very angry guardians.

“Dads!” Gosalyn wrapped her arms around Launchpad’s neck. “It’s just Launchpad. He won’t hurt me.”

They backed down, but still hovered close. Damn. Darkwing had certainly picked the right carers for Gosalyn.

Gosalyn stayed protectively in front of him, but climbed off his lap so he could sit up. She put a hand to his cheek. “Are you okay? Wait, who hit you?”

Loopey hid her bloodied knuckles behind her back. “I thought you were dead. Why do you think I…” she swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “Where have you been all this time?”

“In the other universe.”

“Wait, you saw Darkwing Duck?!” The four copy-cats exploded.

“Did he say anything about us?” Megavolt added, hopefully.

Launchpad slowly stood to his feet. Gosalyn stayed clamped to his arm. He wasn’t sure if she’d just missed him, or she was staying there to protect him. “Loopey, a lot went on over there. But long story short, I realised I don’t need Negaduck anymore.”

“Negaduck wasn’t very nice to him,” said Gosalyn. “I’m glad you left. He didn’t have any right to treat you the way he did.”

“I know, and he doesn't have any right to treat anyone in Saint Canard the same way. And I was a part of that.” Launchpad looked back to his sister. “That’s why I gotta make it right. I know I have to earn back your trust first. But I need to stand up to Negaduck, and I need your help for that, and… I just want us to be a family again, sis.” Tears filled his eyes, and you just didn’t break down in front of a heavily armed resistance and show that kind of weakness, but Launchpad no longer gave a damn. “Please, Loopey. I’ll do whatever you ask, just don’t put me out.”

Loopey stared at him for a long time. “Sure you can take orders from your little sister?”

“I’m good at taking orders.”

“Good. You can start by cleaning toilets. After a week or two of that we’ll see how trustworthy you are.”

There were a couple snickers from the fighters. As well as one ‘oh thank god’, presumably from the last poor sucker who’d had that job. It was still better than what Launchpad had expected, which was to get punched in the face a lot more than once.

“Come on, I’ll get you patched up. And lower those weapons! You’re all so jumpy, you’ll put someone’s eyes out. If he tries anything I’ll just punch him again, now move it.” Loopey waved her way through the fighters, dragging Launchpad behind her until she was clear. Then she turned to face him and squeezed both his hands. “Are you okay?”

“You didn’t hit me that hard. It’s alright. I’ll just spar you later, you know, only if you’re okay with that.”

Loopey frowned at him, then shook her head. “I did, and I’m sorry. I forgot I was wearing these.” She waved a hand. “But that’s not what I meant. Launchpad, what the hell happened to you over there? You’re different.”

“A lot. I don’t know where to start.”

“I’m glad your done with Negaduck. Gosalyn told me how he treated you and…” Loopey’s hands tightened in his. “I thought he’d killed you. Why the hell do you think I started all this? But now you’re back and you’re all…” She trailed off and gulped hard.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m still here. All I wanted was to find you and Gos. You’re my family, and there’s a bunch of stuff I have to tell you, but… you know, like Mom and Dad always said, we’ve got to protect each other. I know I failed at that, and I’m sorry for the way I treated you over the years. I’m going to do better.”

Loopey made sure none of her fighters were watching them, then she threw her arms around Launchpad and buried her face against his chest. “You had better be on the level with me, big brother.”

Launchpad sagged into her arms. He was home.

***

Author's Note:

Fun fact. When I was plotting the sequel to this, I originally intended Nega Launchpad to fall off the Audubon Bridge and drown (and LP to try and save him cause he’s a nice guy). Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t.

This turned out a bit hectic… somehow I ended up writing about abuse and that was… interesting. Negaduck is a jerk. And its weird editing something to try and make a particular character be just the right bit of nasty, whilst simultaneously wanting to throat punch them.

Ripcord got a bit more than he deserved, poor guy. I’d intended to have his and LPs backstory, and, yeah, that was going to be upsetting for him. And then have him lose it over Negaduck mistreating Nega LP and go after him with a shot gun and for that Not to Turn Out Well. But I didn’t realise that Launchpad was going to get in the way until I was writing that part and… yeah, having your adult kid nearly die after you’ve just dug up all those memories of, you know, nearly killing your kid when they were a kid and how this sent you into a depressive spiral. Flip, Ripcord, I’m sorry.

But I am really happy with Nega LPs character arc. Kind of proud of the dirtbag. And when I get back to writing some original fiction and characters (which this has completely distracted me from)… yeah, really hope I can do something as good.

Please leave me a review or comment if you’ve read this. I do enjoy feedback and will usually try to respond. Thanks for reading!

#darkwing duck fanfic #darkwing duck #darkwing #dwd #dwd91 #disney ducks #launchpad #launchpad mcquack #nega launchpad #negalaunchpad #negaduck #negaverse #nega loopey

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asterekmess · 4 years

Note

1-11 Scott/Posey Stans always try to deflect criticism of the way Scott McCall is written in Teen Wolf by claiming that ANY attempt by a fan, a viewer, or a critic of holding Scott to a level of behavior that one would expect of a character who is a main and the self-proclaimed hero of the show is “racism”. Except that their accusations don’t make any sense whatsoever, because Scott’s canonical shitty actions and behavior don’t stem from his race (or canonical lack of thereof.)

Okay hun, this is a doozy, so I’m putting it under a Read More.

2-11 Scott McCall is mean. He’s mean to Stiles, he’s mean to Allison, he’s mean to Derek, he’s mean to Peter, he’s mean to Cora, he’s mean to Lydia, he’s mean to Jackson, he’s mean to Erica, he’s mean to Isaac, he’s mean to Malia, he’s mean to Malia, he’s mean to Kira, he’s mean to Liam, he’s mean to Chris, and he’s even mean to Theo (“You are barely even human!”) Scott McCall is deliberately rude to the Hales, Boyd, Ethan, Danny, Hayden, Jiang, Tierney, and Melissa.

3-11 Scott McCall deliberately USES, INSULTS, HUMILIATES and DEHUMANIZES people in ways that demonstrate that he is fully aware of what he’s doing. Scott McCall deliberately disregards other people’s needs in order to fulfill his own. Tyler Posey being half Mexican doesn’t change the fact that his fictional character Scott McCall is a whiny coward and an abusive piece of trash,

4-11 and that his so called ‘defense squad’ enjoys the power fantasy that Scott can be cruel, can lie, can assault, can lash out, can violate other people’s boundaries, bodily autonomy and consent, can commit premeditated murder, can break the law without impunity, can dehumanize, can gaslight and victim blame his friends to his heart’s content and no one should ever hold it against him

5-11 In both the production and in some Scott supremacist fanfics, there’s often the premise that people are evil and in the wrong if they call Scott out on his bullshit or hold his toxic behavior against him. Take Season 1. As much as the Scott McCall defense squad brigade love framing Stiles and Derek getting shit done and prioritizing people’s life over Scott’s jealous fits and temper tantrums as the height of depravity

6-11 Scott/Posey Stans consciously and steadfastly ignore all the cruel things that Scott says and does throughout the seasons, such as “How much Adderall have you had today?” OR “What are you trying to do?! I just made first line! I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me and everything in my life is perfect! Why are you trying to ruin it?!” OR “The hunters had a reason to slaughter your entire family and pack”

7-11 (As an aside, it’s amazing to me how Fanon rewrites Scott as this brilliant thinker and strategist and mastermind who is so much smarter and better than everyone else in every way even though Canon Scott spends the entirety of Teen Wolf doing absolutely nothing except get his ass handed to him by everyone, whining about wanting to be popular/get his dick wet/play lacrosse, screaming at his friends and girlfriends, being utterly useless when left to his own devices,

8-11 and planning to bite Stiles against his will because he doesn’t know what to do. But I digress.) Or take Season 5. In the rain argument in Lies of Omission (5x09), Scott McCall’s hypocritical, dehumanizing speech to Stiles is one of the meanest, cruelest, most disgusting manipulations I have ever seen a television character deliver to another television character they supposedly cared about. It’s victim blaming and gaslighting at its vilest.

9-11 And, of course, the Scott McCall defense squad focuses exclusively on the idea that Stiles didn’t behave “the right way” in that scene (AKA taking Scott’s bullshit without clapping back like Scott wanted and demanded), and cannot entertain for one moment the idea that Scott provoked that response by dehumanizing Stiles and by accusing Stiles of being a violent, dangerous, inhuman monster and serial killer based on Theo’s words alone.

10-11 After all, it’s part of their power fantasy. Scott being “abandoned” and “mistreated” by his “ungrateful” friends serves another type of fantasy: the poor oppressed martyr. It doesn’t matter why Scott is abandoned or who is leaving Scott, it’s all about Scott McCall’s right to own people and demand his friends’ love, friendship, loyalty, sympathy, forgiveness, obedience and devotion without having to account for his own abusive behavior.

11-11 And that’s Scott Stans’ point: Only Scott McCall Is Important and Damn Derek/Stiles/Liam/Other Teen Wolf character for having a life and motivations that don’t revolve around Scott! To them (and to Canon Scott), the pack exists not to serve all its members, but to serve and validate Scott McWhinyCall. Because, after all, that’s what antis want for themselves – validation in the face of shortcomings and bad behavior.

Wow, that was a lot of anger. Do you feel any better after venting that? I really hope so, it honestly looks p cathartic. Okay, I apologize in advance if I don’t come across as quite so passionate, I’m kinda bleh today and I already used up all my righteous fury in an earlier post, so I’ll do my best.

I honestly understand the worry about people disliking Scott as having racist motivations. As I said in another post, there aren’t a lot of Latino (wait, I read somewhere to use latine? Should I use that instead? I’ll use that, someone correct me if I’m wrong. The thing also said latinx was not great bc of pronunciation issues? I’m not educated enough on this. Halp, please.) Latine protagonist characters in popular television, especially for teen dramas like Teen Wolf. Intentional or not, written into the show or not, Scott is half-latine. His mother is a latine woman. We don’t see them speak spanish or take part in any specific cultural traditions, but that doesn’t make him white. Yes, his character was written for a white guy, but Tyler Posey is the one who got the part and we can’t strip him of his heritage just because the show originally meant for Scott to be white. My husband is almost always mistaken for white, even though he’s also half-latine, but that doesn’t make him any less latine. There’s little enough representation as it is, and if we start being picky about whether characters were ‘intended’ or ‘written’ as POC, everything will just fall to shit. Plus, as a white person, I have literally no rights to decide that Scott’s white. I’m cool with that. Would prefer to just stay in my lane, if I’m honest. With Scott established as being a POC, it’s totally reasonable for other POC and fans of Scott to be worried that those of us who don’t like him have that opinion because of either passive or active racism. There are a lot of occasions where Protags of Color were either liked less, or actively disliked for just being ‘not white.’ It also doesn’t help that Scott is one of very few “good” Characters of Color in TW (whether we agree or not, he is presented as a ‘good guy’). We have Boyd, who dies in 3A and doesn’t get much character developement in the meantime, and Kira, who sticks around for a while, then has to leave because of ‘losing control’ which is apparently a very common stereotype for POC, especially within Fantasy or Supernatural settings. Other than them, the other POC are either bad guys or just morally dubious. I’m not sure where Deaton falls on the scale either. I understand it being frustrating to some people for us to take one of the few “good’ characters and see him/describe him as a villain. It’s important for white people, and honestly, anyone not latine (because even POC can be racist against people who aren’t their race) to be self-aware and analyze the various reasons why we dislike Scott and make sure that we aren’t accidentally being passively racist. Just because we’re sure we aren’t, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t double check. And if we find we are, then it’s up to us to correct that mindset and educate ourselves. There is no shame in learning that you have not great habits or mindsets and working to fix them. That’s how growth works. It’s equally important that when we’re writing fic, we watch how we portray him and the other POC in the show. I’m not saying we can’t write Scott bashing fic. Fuck knows that I’ve written plenty of Bad Friend Scott McCall fic, and I don’t intend to stop. But we still need to be self-critical and make sure that we’re not writing Scott (or the others, please assume from here on out I’m saying Scott and the others) into racist stereotypes. We shouldn’t reduce him to just a “Yes” man, or make him constantly submissive, or constantly vicious and angry and mean for no reason. It’s one thing to write him as doing something bad or cruel and making it realistic for the story. It’s quite another to have him just randomly pop in to say “fuck you” and hit someone (I’m not referencing something specific here, I’m just saying dumb stuff). Honestly, I don’t know enough about this and I’m not really entitled to go into too much more detail. Instead, I’d recommend that even if you don’t think you’re hating Scott for racist reasons, still read This Post about racism in fandom/fanfic. When I read it, it was both reassuring and intimidating. I have anxiety, so I’m usually worried about doing things for ‘the wrong reason’ even when that’s not actually my reason for doing the thing. Reading this gave me a clearer view of my own thoughts, and it honestly made me feel a little more comfortable with my own mentality because it gave me a structure to think about and consider when I’m worried that I’m doing something racist. It’s worth the read. I’d also like to reiterate the suggestion on that post, to check out the blog Writing with Color, which is a great resource for writing Characters of Color. It doesn’t have as many resources for fanfiction writing and the grey area involved in writing characters that your reader already knows, but their ask box is closed at the moment, so maybe when it opens again someone’ll send in an ask about it (If I actually remember to, I’ll do it myself, but that’s unlikely, so if one of you feels so inspired, please do so and help a fic writer out!)

Now. I cannot speak for every single fan of TW who is anti-Scott in some way. Obviously not. But, I can speak for myself and for the experiences I’ve had within the fandom. My issues with Scott are many and complex and a lot of it is intrinsically connected to issues with the writing of the show in general and with the creators and the calls they made. In all the conversations that I’ve had with other fans, I’ve never seen anyone list Scott’s race as a problem. I’ve never seen anyone talk about how they wished he were more submissive or more obedient. Maybe that he would listen to actual adults once in a while, but not that he be unreasonably obedient of white characters. I’m not all-knowing on the subject of racist stereotypes, but nearly every complaint I’ve seen was based on details from the show and specific moments and dialogue, not just a general disgust with his existence. Furthermore, for all the anger I see directed at those of us that prefer Stiles, Derek, or even Peter, I’ve also never talked to anyone who liked those characters who wasn’t willing to admit that there were plenty of points in canon where they fucked up or did something wrong. Again, I don’t know everyone in fandom, so maybe there are people who won’t admit those things, but they aren’t in the majority.

I personally hate the way I see Scott treat people in the show. I hate the really vicious things he says and does and the chronic lack of self-awareness or growth. Even worse, the way the show excuses his behavior, be it intentional or not, has soured a lot of other parts of the show. The clearly impulsive moments that could easily be excused by him being a really stressed out teenager make me a lot more frustrated than they would, had I not known that he would never get better. That he would never stop saying things like that. I can’t even make myself enjoy the genuinely sweet moments with him and Allison or him and his mom, etc. I might hate that he left Stiles’ messages unanswered and skipped an entire day of school during a crisis to hang out with Allison, but I would’ve liked to enjoy their banter, the soft moments between them that are actually really nice. I can’t though, because so many other things about his character have ruined that for me.

It isn’t okay to attack people for disliking a character and throw around such charged words like “racist” and “abuse-apologist” or anything else. First off, this is fiction, and we all need to keep that in mind. These are not real people we’re talking about. Secondly, calling someone racist because they disagree with you (unless they are actively saying/doing something actually racist) isn’t okay and it isn’t an adult way to deal with things. Someone not liking a character doesn’t automatically make them racist. Someone happening to prefer a white character over a Character of Color doesn’t automatically make them racist. Sure, they might have passively racist motivations that even they don’t realize. But it is not up to strangers to come yell and call names without proof. There are plenty of reasons that have nothing to do with race (Not saying “i don’t see race.” I’m saying “Not About Race”) that I like Stiles over Scott, ranging from the fact that he’s physically more my type, to sharing a neurological condition with him, to just preferring Dylan O’Brien as an actor because he makes me fucking cry every time he cries on screen. What’s important is that we self analyze and check ourselves and our opinions to make sure that we aren’t falling into the racist habit of disliking Characters of Color for no real reason. But that isn’t something that other people can do for us, and it’s not their place to tell us what we think. Calling a stranger racist for saying they hate Scott’s behavior in the show doesn’t do anything for racial equality. It just makes people stop listening to the word ‘racist.’

There are times I seriously get frustrated with TW to the point of considering not watching anymore. Of closing my blog and stopping reading fanfic entirely because every single time I read a fic where Scott’s a ‘good guy’ or a ‘good alpha’ or where Derek is glad to be a beta again because he likes following Alpha Scott, I get squicked so badly I have to click out and just sit there for a second to settle. I can’t disentangle the things he does/says in the show from the fic.And I’ve written Good Friend Scott McCall fics. I have multiple wips where he’s either a decent person or he grows from being a dick to being a decent person. With my own work, I know that there’s an awareness to his behavior in the show and an active intent to rewrite/fix his behavior so that he is a nice person. With other people’s works, I don’t have a guarantee (unless it’s mentioned in tags or author’s notes, and I don’t expect people to have to explain themselves that way), and it personally makes me uncomfortable to read something when I don’t know if the writer actually sees Scott that way. It’s a personal preference, and one that I stick to pretty strictly.

Scott brings me no joy, and with him as the main character, I’ve come perilously close to cutting myself off from the most welcoming, loving fandom I’ve ever been a part of (except the Merlin fandom, but I don’t blame anyone who can’t compete with them. They’re fucking magical.). But I’m still here. I still love, if not the reality of the show, then all the potential I see in it when I watch. I love watching Derek and Stiles interact with each other and with the other side characters. I love seeing the glimpses of Boyd that we get, the tiny scenes of Erica, the snarky moments with Isaac. I even like Kira, though I haven’t seen a whole lot of the show where she’s in it/genuinely can’t remember it (I can’t even remember how far I’ve seen total, but I don’t think it was past S4, and I haven’t seen past S2 in months and months) and she spends most of her scenes with Scott, which just....kind of ruins the scenes for me.

That’s the glory of fandom though, of media in general. I don’t have to like Scott. I can love Derek and Stiles instead and I can choose not to read fics where Scott is a major player or an Alpha at all. I can read fics where Kira’s part of the pack without Scott ever getting involved, and see her interact with everyone else. Or fics where Boyd never dies and watch him bake or read or play lacrosse with the pack. I can curate my own experience, whether that means blocking tags or users or filtering fics, or just straight up skipping certain scenes/episodes of the show itself. I cope with my frustrations by coming on this blog and ranting about it. Yeah, this is a public space, but it’s also a space people choose to view. If they don’t like my opinions, they can block me or unfollow me or all of the above. They don’t have to read it, just like I don’t have to read any of their pro-scott stuff. I also read fic that does explore how Scott’s behavior is problematic and cruel sometimes. Fic that either erases him or turns him into the villain, I find fun and interesting and the relationship between him and Stiles cracking into pieces is something I find extremely cathartic, so I read it pretty much every chance I get (though, i’m so picky about fics I read, you’ve no idea). I also write fic. I write the most mushy, self-indulgent sterek fic and Stiles-centric fic and and Scott bashing fic that I can possibly write. It’s a joy and a therapy all its own. Fuck, I’m rewriting the entirety of canon for fuck’s sake and I’ve made so many changes that at this point I honestly have issues remembering what happens in the show, bc I rewrote the damn thing.

At the same time, Scott fans are gonna write their power fantasies. They’re gonna write anti-Stiles stuff and anti-Derek stuff, and whatever else tickles their fancy. They’re gonna make their own rant posts and gifsets. And to be quite honest, I don’t give a single flying fuck. I already have those tags filtered out on Ao3. I don’t follow any pro-scott tumblrs. That shit doesn’t show up for me most of the time, unless it’s not tagged properly, and even then I just click out, take a second, and move on.

No one is required to like or dislike specific characters, and it’s unfair of anyone to tell us otherwise. Fandom is built on choice. The choice to disagree with canon, or to re-envision it altogether, or to love it entirely. No one can take that away from you. So long as you aren’t hurting anybody, just keep doing you, friend. I’m here for you to vent to when it gets to be too much.

#personal #go for it #anti-scott mccall #meta ramblings #Anonymous #rant #much love #I didn't mean to sound so preachy #oops

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ouidamforeman · 4 years

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Gallifrey Audios Fic Rec

Since I read a lot more fanfiction than I used to I thought it’d be a good idea to make a rec list of my personal favorites! Heads up though because as anyone who has followed me for a while knows this is mostly Narvin/Leela (But not all! I like gen stuff and friendship shenanigans a lot too) so if you hate the ship or want a larger variety my rec list will be like a minefield, apologies. List is organized by rating, lowest to highest, and includes approximate word counts. Enjoy! Under a read more because it’s kind of long:

Time Lords are Bad at Feelings by @timelordsandkittens (NR) Notes: this is a fic about hugging and it’s the first Gallifrey story I ever bookmarked, years ago)

Reflections/Refractions by a_walking_shadow (G, 2k words) (Summary: It's always interesting, seeing what's different on every world connected to the Axis. Sometimes, the Gallifrey on the other side is so similar to their own it's almost painful. Sometimes, there aren't any similarities at all. Sometimes it's a perfect reflection, sometimes everything is slightly different, refracted. And sometimes, it's just completely bizarre.” aka “Someone posted a suggestion, somewhere, for a story idea: in s4, the Gallifrey gang end up on a version of Gallifrey which is basically what people think the planet is like, when they first get into New Who.)

The Candidate by weakinteraction (G, 4k words) (Summary: Romana's presidential campaign doesn't get off to the smoothest of starts when she is ambushed by an interviewer. Braxiatel is on hand to straighten things out.) Notes: a delightful and unusual mix of Gallifrey lore and canon that makes me very happy

Life Lessons by thetransgirlwhoneverwas (G, 800 words) (Summary: Narvin is facing death, and for the first time in his long life, he is truly afraid of it.) Notes: this is the “What does Brax think about Narvin losing his lives” fic everyone wants

The Hotel of Rassilon by Floptopus (G, 5k words) (Summary: The Gallifrey Gang (Minus that oily toad, Irving Braxiatel) have escaped from the rages of war and are now running a Bed and Breakfast as a family. However, the new guests at their little hotel clearly aren't all they claim to be... Sarah Jane Smith and her young friends are staying at a Bed and Breakfast as they investigate suspected alien activity in the surrounding area. However, most suspicious are the odd family of four that run the hotel…) Notes: Remember the silly self indulgent b&b AU/SJA crossover thing? This is the fic. Listen. Sometimes you just need corny Time War fix-it fic and this is it. It’s not even finished and I don’t care because I want to live here.

day after day (the show must go on) by clockworkouroboros (G, 2k words) (Summary: A post-Time War short story that explores what happens to them. Leela has been found, but Gallifrey is lost. Romana is trying to find out what happened to it.) Notes: @clockworkouroboros writes good things and also she’s my friend and I love her. This story is trippy and cool and angsty and funny!

Half Sick of Shadows by gallifreyburning (G, 14k words) (Summary: Frontline reports said Leela had been killed in battle at the Pillars of Consequence, fighting the Daleks in the Time War. During a chance encounter on a backwater planet, Narvin discovers that this version of events isn't quite accurate.) Notes: Just read everything by @gallifreyburning actually because she’s brilliant

TimeShift by gallifreyburning (G, 9k words) (Summary: After surviving the Time War and finding a happy ending, Leela wakes up in a strange place with an old antagonist, and must figure out how to get home.)

Homesick by mageofmind (renegadeartist) (G, 1k words) (Summary: Home is a complicated subject for Leela. She hopes one day this one won't feel so lonely.)

On Her Lady President's Secret Service by neveralarch (G, 13k words) (Summary: Narvin and Leela tracking down spies in the Citadel. And also fighting with people. And fighting with each other. And having discussions about CIA training methods. But they also track down spies.)

The Ascension of a Celestis by @time-lord-historian (NR) Notes: Time War angst

Fear by SongOfTheBadWolf (G, 1k words) (Summary: Narvin is often resistant to the support he needs the most, but Leela isn't about to give up on him. (set in season 4, after Annihilation.))

Dancing by @iristigerlily (G, 400 words) (Summary: What might have been going through Narvin’s head as Leela performed her fire dance in 1.2 “Square One”.)

until the night fades by President Romana (asoldandtrueasthesky) (G, 2k words) (Summary: Written for the classicwhosecretsanta 2016. Narvin and Leela explore the Axis together, still reeling from the loss of Braxiatel and dealing with a moping President. The Gallifrey they find feels too much like home for Leela to abandon and it's up to Narvin to prevent their group from splintering any further.)

Five Times Narvin Wasn’t Scolded for Showing Emotion, and One Time He Was by JaneTurenne (G, 6k words) (Summary: Time Lords aren’t meant to display their feelings—and, despite the odds, a Time Lord is the only thing Narvin has ever wanted to be. Narvin character study, with a side of shippery.) Notes: This was my favorite Gallifrey fic for a while and it’s probably still in my top three

To Feel the Sun From Both Sides by gallifreyburning (G, 3k words) (Summary: After years of adventures and misadventures and Time Wars, Leela and Narvin are finally getting married. Unfortunately, someone objects to the union, and goes to great lengths to save Leela from making the worst mistake of her life.) Notes: this fic is hilarious please read it

Strangeness and Charm by gallifreyburning (G, 27k words) (Summary: During a delicate treaty negotiation, Leela finds herself on the receiving end of an unwanted marriage proposal. Set during a magical golden hour in the vicinity of Enemy Lines.) Notes: Narvin/Leela fake married AU, warning: wonderful but unfinished so far

this untitled fic by @colinbakerstreet (NR) Notes: it’s kind of a character study thriller but I remember thinking it was fantastic

Error by thebraxiatelcollection (G, 3k words) (Summary: Spoilers for Gallifrey; Time War. Gallifrey. The CIA and the rest of Gallifrey presume Leela is dead or missing after her mission with The Master. Narvin refuses to be alone during times of war. He decides on the next best thing. He builds a copy of her. Narvin/Leela.) Notes: I remember this having a great twist somewhere

A Minor Problem by Irving-Braxiatel (G, 1k words) (Summary: “’The room is bugged.’ The words were scrawled on the note Narvin had slipped into Romana’s hand as they walked past one another.” Narvin has to deliver some bad news to President Romana, which, as it turns out, isn't as easy as it sounds.) Notes: wonderful pre-series Narvin/Romana with telepathy!

Uncharted Territory by stcrmpilot (G, 1k words) (Summary: Narvin has a lot of thinking to do. Leela seems determined to intrude.) Notes: Good good Axis angst. Stcrmpilot (@coordinator-narvin) writes a lot of Gallifrey stuff and they’re my friend so consider this a general rec and check out their stuff

The Tramp Stamp of Rassilon by gallifreyburning (G, 900 words) (Summary: Ace has an unfortunate evening at an off-planet royal wedding.) Notes: I cried when I read this

Nonsense All Compact (The Community Theatre Remix) by neveralarch (T, 12k words) (Summary: Braxiatel directs amateur community theatre in the small village of Gallifrey. Romana is the Council Leader in Gallifrey, and uses theatre as a political distraction. Eventually they hold hands.) Notes: I’m not exaggerating when I say I think this might be my favorite Gallifrey fic ever. You can also read the original non-AU story it’s based on, The Importance of Being On Stage by aralias (G, 3k words), which is also hilarious.

Repercussions by a_walking_shadow (T, 2k words) (Summary: Going after anyone from the tight-knit group at the top of Gallifreyan society is a terrible idea. They're protective of each other. They all possess the capacity to cause absolutely terrifying levels of destruction. And they tend to have loopholes in their moral codes, for whenever anyone threatens their friends.)

A Family Affair by Bagheera (T, 19k words) (Summary: Leela and Narvin have to work together to uncover a conspiracy against President Matthias.) Notes: This is a good Narvin/Leela relationship dynamics fic with a lot of stuff about Narvin’s family, and it was written before we got much canon background on him so it has a lot of interesting headcanons!

Family Ties by Floptopus (T, 4k words) (Summary: In the night, the nightmares come. Leela and Narvin have both lost parts of themselves - parts they'd never expected to live without.) Notes: prequel to The Hotel of Rassilon

Spirit Redux by gallifreyburning (T, 13k words) (Summary: Sometimes even Gallifrey's CIA agents need a little R&R. Who wouldn't enjoy a minibreak on the paradise planet of Davidia?) Notes: Narvin has A Time Of It in this fic and it’s great. It’s also slightly on the M end of T rated towards the end so watch out if spiciness isn’t your thing.

Refinement by oxydised_moron (T, 5k words) Notes: You guys it’s literally just evil!Leela/Narvin from Disassembled, I’m so glad someone wrote this

A Friendly Face by clockworkouroboros (T, 2k words) (Summary: Narvin and Romana have been ousted from Gallifrey after Romana’s latest attempt at treason and they land...in the middle of a war zone. This is set just after that.)

Dreams of Forgotten Lives by BeesOfGallifrey (T, 54k words) (Summary: The Time War is over, and thanks to the skullduggery of Irving Braxiatel, Leela and Narvin have survived it. One small problem: also thanks to the skullduggery of Irving Braxiatel, they have no memory of who they really are, and are both stranded in London in the late 1890s, living entirely separate lives…) Notes: very good Narvin/Leela fobwatched!AU, and I think there’s a sequel in the works with Romana)

Gallifrey: Ruination by Ellimac (T, 11k words) (Summary: In the search for a new Gallifrey, Leela, Narvin, and Romana find themselves on a Gallifrey far too hostile for their liking. When Narvin gets caught in the middle of a dangerous conflict with no way out, it's up to Leela and Romana to get all three of them back to safety before it's too late.) Notes: Great Axis adventure that’s very canon-divergent with injuries, so warning/note for that and a bit more gore and violence than the typical fic

The Shape of Things to Come by gallifreyburning (T, 8k words) (Summary: During the Time War, Leela and Narvin are on a mission to save a young Ace McShane from Daleks meddling in her timeline. Romana's mission briefing didn't remotely prepare them for a night in a punk club in London, 1986.) Notes: Again, just go read everything by gallifreyburning because I’m not listing everything here, but this is the first one by her I read and it’s delightful

Thinking in the Fifth Dimension by Irving-Braxiatel (T, 3k words) Notes: a sort of choose your own adventure story with a really cool format

Orchestral by gallifreyburning (T, 2k words) (Summary: During a CIA mission debrief, Leela and Narvin make a little music.) Notes: gallifreyburning specializes in writing these two arguing and making out but this is the one I’m choosing to rec because it was written for me and also Ace is there

The High School AU of Rassilon by clockworkouroboros (T, 12k words so far) (Summary: Narvin just wants a quiet, easy junior year of high school. Unfortunately, no one else in the school seems to feel the same way.) Notes: Current WIP. AU where they all go to a terrible teen movie high school. A Masterpiece I am proud to have helped with.

Cultural Exchange by JaneTurenne (M, 4k words) (Summary: Narvin knows Leela well enough to track her down after her abrupt departure — and comes to know her a great deal better.) Notes: This is rated T on Ao3 but I’m putting it with the M-rated stuff because it’s kind of spicy for just a T and I wanted to be safe for anyone wary

Superposition by gallifreyburning (M, 3k words) (Summary: At the end of Gallifrey 2.5: Imperiatrix, Narvin is injured while saving President Romana from a bomb, and is carted away for medical treatment just before Pandora takes control of Gallifrey. The next time we see him, in Gallifrey 3.1: Fractures, he's abandoned his post as Coordinator of the CIA and is working as part of Romana's resistance against Pandora. This is a glimpse of what happened in between these two events: the moment Narvin realizes what happened in the Panopticon in his absence, and is forced to choose sides.) Notes: the questionable Pandora/Narvin content I didn’t know I wanted until I had it. It sounds shifty and it is but this fic is so good I believed every second.

Mission Parameters by gallifreyburning (M, 8k words) (Summary: Andred is on a mission to bring down the Celestial Intervention Agency, and he's only just beginning to grasp everything this job entails.) Notes: Have you ever wanted to ship Narvin/Torvald and Narvin/Andred? Have you ever desired to watch a slow motion car wreck? If yes then this is the fic for you.

A Quiet Heart and its 'verse by gallifreyburning (E, but the other fics in the series are G and T, 70k+ words) (Summary: Leela and Narvin's moments between canon, from the Axis until the Time War. This is how a human warrior and her Time Lord came to fall in love. Romana makes occasional appearances, but this is primarily an expansion of the backstory between the Lady President's companions.) Notes: This is probably The Main Narvin/Leela Fic in the fandom at this point so most Gallifrey fans who follow me have probably at least read some of it, but y’all. It’s GoodTM and the smutty parts are pretty easy to skip over if that’s not your thing, so. Highly Recommend.

this Narvin/Leela bodyswap from the sexandpolitics dreamwidth, because sometimes I read silly porn and you all have to deal with that

Also! Note that there’s a lot more in my Gallifrey fic tag, including shorter things and lots of tumblr and askbox fic! Also because the Gallifrey fandom is so little I highly recommend reading everything by any of these authors or anything in any of the Gallifrey fic tags because in general it tends to all be pretty good

#gallifrey audios #gallifrey fic #you guys this took forever to do

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non-binary-bi-fanperson · 4 years

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Save Fall Out Boy

Summary: Gender neutral reader’s POV, you are a cop at the police station in which Fall Out Boy is taken in YBC after Joe is killed and you get involved.

Warnings: Character death, violance

Wordcount: 3265

A/N: This is my first fanfiction I’ve ever written, so please be gentle with the criticism. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry for any grammatical errors. Enjoy! 🖤🖤 (GIF’s not mine)

‘James and Frank are at the scene with the murderer and two witnesses, all three of them have several injuries, ambulance will take care of it, please, make everything ready for the interrogation,’ my boss told me hurriedly not long after we got a phone call from a desperate man from an abandoned hospital near the police station where I work.

Not long after that, James and Frank arrived with the three guys and I couldn’t believe my eyes. I know them. Well, as much as anybody else who likes their music. It was Patrick, Pete, and Andy from Fall Out Boy. They’re missing a band member. Is it possible that…?

While Pete and Andy were carried away I had to stay with Patrick and my colleague, Frank and we tried to force that hook down which was attached to his left arm, right where his hand should had been. We can’t let him in to the cell with a potential weapon in - or in this case instead of - his hand now, can we? It hurt him; I could tell that, he was screaming in pain and hell, was it really attached to him, like it was burnt there or something. Damn, what have these guys been through?

Patrick was in his cell; literally the most innocent member of the band was accused with murder. What the hell is going on? My boss sent me to help James interrogating the other musicians and right when I was about to open the door, James burst out of the room, looking furious.

‘They’re a bunch of psychos, what they say makes no sense at all,’ he said to me, trying to control his anger, failing miserably.

‘I suppose you were the bad cop with all your usual shouting, so trust me, maybe they just need some nice words and a good cop,’ I smiled at him, patting his back and going into the room.

Andy and Pete looked at me and then back at the table right in front of them. I took a seat on the chair which now was too far from the table; probably James tossed it away during one of his not-so-uncommon outbursts.

‘Gentlemen,’ I started trying to stay professional since this whole thing was way too serious. I mean, a person just died, I can’t allow my fan-self to take over. ‘Please, tell me everything you saw, don’t let the fact that the accused is a friend of yours cloud your judgment.’

They just sat there in complete silence. I was patient, maybe they just needed time to think about a proper sentence. I waited one minute, then five, then ten more and they still haven’t said a word.

‘Gentlemen, please, we need as many details as possib-‘ I started calmly but I was cut off by a really angry Andy.

‘We just told every fucking detail to the other cop and he straight up called us crazy, what do you expect?’ In the heat of the moment the drummer even stood up and slammed his hands on the table which made me and Pete flinch.

‘Andy, please sit back down,’ Pete said. Somehow he remained calm. ‘He’s right though,’ he continued now looking at me. ‘We did tell everything and your colleague didn’t believe us, why would we make a fool out of ourselves again? Why would you believe us?’

‘Try me, I’m very open-minded,’ I told him with a small smile on my face which made him relax a little.

And they told me everything. How they had been kidnapped by a bunch of girls, how they drugged them, how they managed to escape and what happened in that hospital, everything. Honestly, when they got to the part where Patrick had yellow eyes and acted like he was possessed, I kind of doubted them, but looking in their eyes, I could tell they weren’t lying. I could feel it.

‘Okay, let’s make one thing clear,’ I said. ‘So when Patr- I mean Mr. Stump heard the music, he became this yellow-eyed demon thing, right?

‘Yes,’ Pete and Andy both nodded.

‘But… How could he just become a demon? Don’t you need to be possessed by one? And when it happens, doesn’t it take over your entire body all the time?’ I asked a bunch of questions in my confusion, I got to admit, I probably wasn’t acting so professional but I needed answers. ‘Or was Supernatural just a lie?’

Pete chuckled at my last question but Andy just stared at me which reminded me of the fact that I should be doing my job here.

‘Alright, thank you for the cooperation, one of my colleagues will be here in a few minutes to inform you of further procedures,’ I said now more skillfully then I did before.

I was about to leave the room when Andy asked me something. ‘Wait, you believe us?’

As I looked back at him I could see the surprise in his eyes. Once again, with a small smile on my lips which I tried to hide but didn’t really succeed I answered him. ‘Well, as I said, I’m very open-minded.’ And with that, I exited the room.

Did I believe them everything? I don’t know. They were drugged, could have hallucinated half of it, and not to mention the whole emotional trauma this case could cause to them. But how they described it, it sounded too real, not like something a drugged person would hallucinate and they didn’t disagree on any of the details. If what they saw wasn’t reality at least on a tiny part of the story they would have corrected each other. But it didn’t happen, they were perfectly in sync.

I let out a sigh while I was walking down a corridor which led me to the cell in which Patrick was. On my way there I grabbed a few paper towels; he probably needed it since he was still bleeding from a few cuts. When I was getting closer I heard him humming an unfamiliar tune, probably something from their upcoming album – if they’ll come up with another album after this.

When I got to him, he just looked at me and then back at his hand in his lap. I couldn’t even imagine how much pain he had gone through. I mean he lost one of his hands, one of his bandmates, he’s accused of murder…

‘Hey,’ I said in a soft tone and he looked back up at me. I was handing him the paper towels. ‘I figured you need them, you’re not in your best shape.’

‘Thanks:’ His voice only sounded like a little whisper and he gave me a weak smile when he took the towels and started wiping the blood off of his skin.

‘Do you need anything?’ I offered. ‘Water, maybe some food? I think I can get you a sandwich or something.’

‘Why are you so nice? You’re playing the good cop now?’ he asked, his words just shouted sarcasm and irony at me.

I let out a small laugh. ‘You met James then, I suppose. No, I’m not playing the good cop as you said, I am the good cop in general. At least I’m trying to treat even the accused ones how they deserve to be treated. I don’t have to be nice to you though, I can stop whenever I want,’ I replied with a stern look, getting a little too harsh at the end.

He was just looking at me, didn’t say a word, a flash of regret could be seen in his eyes. I pitied him honestly. He seemed such a nice guy throughout the media and I couldn’t imagine who and why would have done such horrible and unbelievable things to him and the band.

‘Look,’ I started, less sharply this time, ‘I’ve heard the whole story, and-‘

I was cut off by him saying ‘And now you think we’re crazy, amazing. Listen,’ he stood up and walked to the bars, now being closer to the spot where I was standing, ‘everything they told you is true. Everything. You got to believe us, I’m not a murderer, it wasn’t truly me, believe me. Please.’

He was so desperate, his bluish eyes were full of fear, despair, and pain. I could understand him, though. I couldn’t feel it but I definitely could understand.

‘I believe you,’ I said looking into his eyes.

‘What?’ he asked in confusion and disbelief. ‘Alright, I know I just asked you to believe me, but how can you believe me? Even I think I’m crazy’

I had to force back a smile. ‘I just do, okay? And calm down, we’re going to figure something out, we just have to-‘ I stopped in the middle of my sentence because I heard footsteps. Several footsteps, to be exact, probably three pairs, two made by… High heels? What the…?

My boss arrived with two women on his side. Wait a minute. The girls looked just like Andy and Pete described their kidnappers. Their long hair was in tight ponytails, all black clothing, leather jackets… My boss opened the door for Patrick’s cell and grabbed him, dragging him out of there, even though he protested and tried to stay with all his strength, screamed, shouted from the top of his lungs, begged me to help him. I tried, but one of the girls pinned me against the wall, holding a knife to my throat.

‘We don’t want to hurt you,’ she hissed. ‘We only need him.’ With her head she nodded towards Patrick, who was still dragged by my boss. Looking at them, I noticed two 100$ notes in my boss’s pocket. Son of a bitch.

When they turned at the end of the corridor, the girl let me go and ran after them. As soon as I could, I followed them and arrived just on time to see the women force Patrick into a car. Lucky me, I have good eyes and quick mind so I could see the plate of the car and memorized it.

I ran to the room where I left Pete and Andy only to find them gone with only a piece of paper on the table which had an address on it. I didn’t know if I should go to that address or run the plate of the car in which Patrick was taken. The address could have been a trap for the bass player and drummer, but it also could have been a safe place.

I decided to take chances and find out where the car must have gone. After a few minutes, thanks to the traffic cameras, I could find it. I got into my own car and took a deep breath before I started it. I hope I won’t find anyone murdered…

When I got to that older building which had the previously seen car parked in front of it, I hesitated. I know, it’s not so professional but I wasn’t doing the job for so long and it was way out of my league. I mean come on, brainwashing and demonic stuff? That’s not what a regular cop goes after. But I knew that somebody had to save those guys and since I couldn’t see anyone else who even considered helping, I felt like it was my duty.

I managed to get into the building which wasn’t so hard considering that no one was guarding it. The tough part was not getting caught inside. I went by a room in which at least a dozen of girls were destroying instruments rhythmically slamming their hammers at them. Fortunately no one saw me. They all wore similar clothes as the women at the station and they had the same hairstyle.

At the end of the corridor there was a locked door and I could have sworn that I heard a scream along with other noises from inside. So with a hairpin I picked the lock and slowly opened the door, careful not to make any noise in case some of the girls are in there. But no, it was only Patrick, tied to a chair, sitting calmly and staring at a brick wall with weird videos and pictures projected on it.

I ran up to him and immediately tried to free his hand from the grip of the rope only to hear him growl at me. I looked up at his face and looked into his eyes and I couldn’t believe what I saw. They were yellow. So everything was true. Every crazy detail I was told, all of it were true. Not that I didn’t believe them but knowing about it and seeing it are two completely different things.

After I recovered from the mini-shock I just had, I realized that if I let Patrick out in this state, he would kill me. So I tried the only rational thing which came in my mind. I shut down the projector and looked deeply in the singer’s eyes. ‘Patrick,’ I started softly but desperately knowing that any of the girls could come in any moment, ‘please, you need to listen to me. It’s not you, Patrick. You have to fight this, alright?’ He just stared at me, I wasn’t even sure that he understood anything. I continued anyway, this time little more hurriedly, probably because of the fear which started to take over me. ‘Come on Patrick, you’re not like this. You’re a little ball of sunshine, you polite everyone to death, even your haters. You need to turn back, your bandmates need you, your fans need you, everyone needs you, the real you.’

At the end of my mini-speech his eyes turned back to that unique shade of blue he had and it looked like he was himself again. ‘Good cop?’ he asked weakly, looking at me, blinking a few times like he wanted to make sure what he saw was real and I chuckled hearing my ‘name’. I could see that he was confused though, he probably didn’t even know where he was.

‘Yes, it’s me, I’m gonna get you out of here,’ I said reassuringly with my lips forming a huge grin and started to free his hands again. Right when his right hand escaped my smile fell because the door swung open and a bunch of women ran into the room. Three of them dragged me away from Patrick while both of us were shouting and screaming, desperately trying to escape. I tried to free myself but their grip was too strong and tight and by kicking one of them, I only made them angry and they held down my legs as well.

They restarted the projector and Patrick’s eyes turned yellow once again. For my surprise they didn’t held him captive anymore, they let him go but he didn’t move until one of them told him to follow her and he obeyed without any questions.

Damn it. I tried to escape once again and only earned a pretty strong punch in the face leaving my mouth bleeding. They tossed me to the ground, turned me so I lay on my back and I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. They kicked me once more which made me groan and then they exited the room.

I brought my hand down to my stomach only to feel the sharp pain again when I touched it. And there was another thing that concerned me. A warm, sticky liquid. Blood. I needed a few moments to realize that I’ve been stabbed. Well, that’s not how I imagined my day.

I was thinking about practically everything. How I couldn’t save my favorite band, how probably Andy and Pete were dead by that time, how nobody was ever going to find me, how I would probably end up in a trashcan or in the backyard of someone’s house, so yeah, pretty optimistic thoughts. I couldn’t even call anyone given that those women took and smashed my phone.

I was accepting my death, feeling that I was losing more and more blood as time went by when the door unexpectedly opened again. I didn’t even bother to look there just after I heard a small ‘oh God’ which was followed by rapid footsteps. It was Andy.

‘Pete, they’re still alive’ he shouted to the bassist and kneeled down next to me, my blood on the floor instantly soaking the fabric of his jeans. He tried to cover my wound, putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding which made me moan in pain. It hurt like hell, but they were trying to make it easier for me by telling me stuff like ‘everything is going to be okay’ and ‘we’re here to help’ and so on, but to tell you the truth, I didn’t believe it, I knew I was going to die, there was no way they could get me out in time.

‘Bullshit,’ I said and regretted it right at that moment because it sent a wave of pain through my entire body and made me cough up blood. Now that wasn’t a good sign.

‘Hey, easy on there,’ Pete said worriedly. It kind of surprised me that he was worried about me since we didn’t even know each other but still, it made me smile weakly.

‘Guys, there’s no way I’m gonna make it so listen,’ I started seriously but had to stop because I had to cough again. ‘They took Patrick, I guess to their leader who I think is upstairs so go, leave me, you can’t save me, save him and yourselves.’

They just looked at me, not moving a single muscle and I felt my eyelids getting heavier and I knew what was coming. I managed to whisper a last weak ‘Please’ right before the pain stopped and I wasn’t suffering anymore. I closed my eyes one last time. I was still conscious when I heard one of them – I couldn’t identify the voices anymore – ask ‘What was their name?’ and the other one just answered with a weak ‘I don’t know’. This is the last thing I remember from before I let the numb darkness take over me, and I didn’t regret anything I did that day.

‘So yeah, that’s my story I guess,’ I told to the man sitting in front of me with his big curly hair, wearing all white clothing. As a matter of fact, everything around us was white, even I wore white which I wouldn’t do normally. Who thought I was going to go to Heaven and meet Joe there. That’s right, the man in front of me was the lead guitarist of Fall Out Boy.

‘That’s awesome,’ Joe grinned. ‘I mean, not the fact that you died, that sucks, but I always wondered what it’s like to be a cop,’ he explained quickly which made me laugh.

‘Yeah, well, I think not as great as you thought,’ I said kind of getting sad because that’s not how I imagined everything. I know it’s cliché, but I was young and had my whole life ahead of me. I suppose not anymore.

‘At least you came to Heaven. Don’t get me wrong, Hell is cool as well, but-‘ he was cut off by me shouting ‘Wait, what???’ in complete disbelief which just made him chuckle.

‘I guess it’s my turn to tell my story, isn’t it?’ he asked with once again a huge grin and it just put a smile on my lips as well.

A/N: That’s it, I hope you all enjoyed, have a nice day and take care!🖤🖤

#YBC #young blood chronicles #fall out boy #patrick stump #andy hurley #pete wentz #joe trohman #fanfic #fanfiction

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flyswhumpcenter · 4 years

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Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. Green deltas are for requested prompts, which is none rn, as my inbox is empty.)

Sleep deprivation, written by someone who doesn't like being sleep-deprived.

This was a request I didn't expect to get, considering it's been literal months since I've gotten one (and longer since I've actually delivered on one... Sorry again, Hubert anon). Thanks for it, Nonnie! I hope you like what I'm delivering haha. We're in the last 5th of the card, which is insane considering it took me a year to complete my first. I've recently gone back to it because wowie kazoowie it's fandom frenzy season again and SwSh has hit full-force with "I want to see more whump of these characters and I'm sure as hell gonna provide it". Nonie's alternatives made me wanna write stuff about Milo now, ah.

As to the story itself, I decided to make it kinda angsty because what's the point of writing Bede if it ain't to write angst about this guy being abandoned twice and a half? It's a slight canon divergence on what actually happened, but y'know, fanfiction has this cool thing that is "ignoring canon if it starts being inconvenient to me". Also there's Opal because I love this fairy grandma with an obsession for pink and not wanting to be told she's 88-year-old. Hell yeah.

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Journey Without a Destination

Summary: Keep going, keep going, for there is nothing to see when you are on a journey with no end. Without a point to his life and without a place to stay, Bede journeys day and night, finding some sort of refuge from himself in a forced spell of insomnia.

Fandom: Pokémon Sword & Shield (spoilers for up to the 6th Gym, slight canon divergence)

Wordcount: 1.6K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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Keep going, keep going, for there’s nothing to see here.

Pointlessly wandering around the Wild Area, he has nowhere to go and nothing better to do than train and train until something happens or the sweet release of death arrives. There’s nobody for him to get back to, nothing for him to do, and no objective left for him to fulfil. Simply put, he’s stranded, alone with himself, with no Wishing Stars to collect and no Gym Challenge to complete now that he’s been stripped down from his endorsement and thrown away like mere garbage.

Nothing tastes the same, now. There is no pleasure in training when he knows he won’t be able to enter a stadium ever again, no spice to finding new creatures and see if they possibly match his team’s theme. There’s absolutely nothing but bitterness on his mind and salt to be spilled over the wounds he can’t be bothered to patch up, since there’s also no point in railing himself back up again.

And he supposes that’s his fault, in the end.

It’d be easier to blame Gloria and all of her little friends; but as much as he’d like to believe that, it’s not the case and he knows it. She happened to be there, her and that redhaired pigtail woman that’s apparently making research on… whatever she’s making a research on. Thing is, Gloria wasn’t the one who went to get the Chairman, wasn’t the one who called on him: she was merely standing there, contemplating whatever ugly doodle some kid had left on that crumbling wall. That somehow upsets him even more.

There’s also very much no point to mentally ramble about that now. What’s done is done: he’s been disowned, left to rot, with nowhere to go and nothing to accomplish. He’s, by all means, useless and nothing more than a waste of oxygen and resources; and yet he can’t bring himself to just vanish. It’s like he wants to suffer just because disappearing now would make the people who betrayed him right and his only wish, right now, is to either get back at them or regain their trust. He’s not sure whether or not he’d even get affection back (or if he even got “affection” in the first place back there. Not like he’s had much of a model to base himself off).

So, he’s been walking around, avoiding human interaction, with his sole source of social anything being his party. At least, as long as they’re his Pokemon, they won’t abandon him, right? Yeah. They’re always going to be together, between a rock and a hard place. Too bad they don’t seem to be able to tell him about their opinion on the matters at hand, because their telepathic abilities haven’t developed enough yet for that as far as he knows. Man, he wishes he’d be able to talk to them and get an answer instead of just throwing move names at them when he has to fight against the wild population and the couple Trainers dumb enough to fight him.

He still wrecks through their teams, but it has none of the flavour it used to have, and it ultimately only buys him some more money to spend on whatever he needs to continue fighting. Fighting for what other than futureless survival, he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to know.

As such he’s been walking for days and days, seeing the same stones and weeds all the time, unaware of how long has actually gone buy. He has no ingredients to make curry for his team or himself, resorting to eating whatever he can manage to get his hands on, never settling camps because staying immobile means possibly dying out without having been able to avenge himself. If he stops, he may never resume his journey without a destination; so he never stops, always tries to keep himself busy, even if it means having as sole distractions his own breathing, the faraway cries from the creatures inhabiting the land and whatever the weather decides to throw at him while his team rests. Can’t fight for your life if you have nobody to fight alongside with.

(Pokemon are the only living beings that haven’t left him anyway).

He’s tired. His feet hurt as soon as he takes a step forward or backward, tired of being pushed around when they have nowhere to go and nowhere to rest at. His hands hurt from the cold and almost-frostbite he develops when he crosses across the snowy areas, when he has to gather the balls of his fainted partners whenever he gets assaulted by something bigger than any of them are, tired of having to move and hold things when none of them have meaning or weight to bring to the table. His head hurts from the lack of rest and the tears he can’t always keep to himself, upsetting the Pokemon who haven’t fainted just yet.

Yet, even if he piles on fatigue like he’d put on clothes during the harsh winters, he refuses to sleep. It’d be letting his guard down from dangers coming from both the outside and the inside. It’d be being vulnerable during the downtimes in his tent to vandals and thieves, and during his sleep to nightmares about what’s to come and what could have been, what should have been. He doesn’t want to cry himself back to sleep when he could just ignore it all and simply walk.

Life is simpler when you just walk, walk, walk all day and all night long so he tells himself the same song over and over again.

Keep going, keep going, for there is nothing to see when you are on a journey with no end.

But, like everything, even he ends up abandoning himself and his feeble principles: before he realizes it, he’s heading to Hammerlocke yet again, feet heavy and eyelids heavier. His eyes have stung for the past day and night with sand, snow and exhaustion, his legs barely move anymore, his balance has been destroyed and buried. The voices in his head most likely don’t exist outside of it, plaguing his thoughts with things he didn’t need to hear.

His thoughts are too cloudy for him to even function properly anymore. He can’t remember how he got there, or why, even less what’s the point of it all. He doesn’t know which day of the week it is, or even which month. Climbing the stairs is painful and drains too much out of his energy, but he then remembers his party is almost fainted and he’s out of items to nurse them back to health, so he has to get up there and do something about it…

He wants to fall asleep right here and there, on the steps, but he can’t.

Keep going, keep going, for there is nothing to see in the depths of a desperate soul in search for something it cannot find again.

He has to continue. For what, for who, how and why, all of that doesn’t matter anymore; he just needs to keep going. To keep going and never stop to think ever again.

He supposes the lack of sleep starts getting to him when he can’t focus his eyes on anything in front of him, vision swimming and eyes bleary from the endeavour they’ve gone through until now. There may not be any torrential rain, sandstorms nor snowfalls in Hammerlocke, but there is the blinding sun that gives him a lethal headache and blinds him enough for him not to be able to tell where he’s setting foot anymore.

It’s no wonder he doesn’t manage to rise back up when he eventually tumbles, loses what’s left of his sense of balance and falls to the ground, scrapping his palms and knees, hitting his chin on the pavement, before everything turns fuzzy and dark. Maybe his destination-less journey has finally hit a stop, a halt, or perhaps its actual end. Maybe he doesn’t have to keep walking, keep moving, with no energy and no determination aside from basic survival and vague plans of revenge he doesn’t quite know who to target at.

Maybe that, now that he’s tired enough, he won’t see how much of a failure he’s been in his sleep.

Keep going, keep going, for there is nothing left else to do for a soul whose purpose has been robbed from it…

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Opal immediately gets surprised when, while in Hammerlocke for absolutely unrelated reasons, she finds an unconscious boy lying not far away from the stairs to the Wild Area. Aside from his pinks and purples, and his unlikely enchanted-looking hair, he looks less than stellar, weakened by the weather and the exhaustion that must be eating away at his bones, judging from the deep rings under his eyes and the feverish hue plastered over the bridge of his nose. She’s seen him somewhere before, she’s certain of it; but all she can remember from that is a sense of betrayal and a feeling of cold-hearted abandonment, so she walks up to him.

“Oh, such a fairy-like young man…”

How is an old lady like her supposed to let such a poor boy, moreover one who could become her successor, in such a dire situation? He seems to have gotten himself in quite a lot of troubles, even more than those she has heard about from the other Leaders and information broadcast in her theatre. It’d be too cruel to let him in the open like that. She has to at least get to know him, to discover if he is her true successor.

For now, thinking of the near future has little to no point, she’s better off calling for help before the boy suffers from hypothermia in the harsh winter sunny winds of Galar. Perhaps she can give him what he doesn’t seem to have anymore…

Keep going, keep going; for there is a purpose to everyone in this world, a purpose you have yet to find for yourself, waiting for you at the end of the seemingly endless journey.

#pokemon #pokemon swsh #pokemon bede #bede swsh #sleep deprivation #light angst #bad things happen bingo #bthb 2

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azoreaneve · 4 years

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The fucking Epilogues, tales of dubious coherence

I’ve ranted about The Epilogues in general but I figured it would be ideal to make a rant just for the characters because ooo boy this is the biggest reason most of us end up disliking these fanfictions.

🍬&🍖 John: honestly actually came out okay. Him becoming depressed made sense and serves as a reason why he’s not reaching out to everyone nowhere near as much as he did. Was okay and I liked him.

🍬Jade: oh god, why did she suddenly become such a bitch?? (no pun intended) They blame it on the doggie hormones but, ugh, that still does not excuse how she suddenly becomes blind to Dave and KK’s discomfort! I find it easier to imagine she was pretending to be blind, no one is that stupid, not to the point of marriage and discussing kids. Even grimbark Jade was nicer! Also she doesn’t have a tail in the canon and yet here she does??

🍖Jade: well she's gone for the most part, if that's how you avoid the 🍬 bs then so be it...

Rose: while she’s sick she still seems like our Rose. Afterwards, in 🍬 she just becomes this distant figure and we don’t hear that much about her? It’s the ghost of Rose: someone who now only cares about her marriage I guess. And in 🍖 it's just, such a fucking pain to read her sections, and it's not even mostly because of her but, ugh!

Dave: he literally went back into the closet??? I’m pretty sure by the end of the canon he had accepted he was gay/bi now but I guess that was thrown out the window. He also has a huge obsession with Obama that I don’t recall being a thing before? On 🍬 he can’t stand up for himself when it comes to the Jade situation and just has a pseudo-shit life, haunted by the “what could have been”s. Then at the end, on a sequence that completely came out of left field, he legit meets Obama, confesses to being gay to him, and is made to ascent to his Ultimate Self when there were no prior signs of that ever becoming a thing (no sickness, no mention of being aware of his other versions, very wtf). In 🍖 they do show these signs and DaveKat becomes this kinda weird thing that exists. Idk but this Dave didn't concern me that much. I was probably getting a bit too jaded at that point, after dealing with all the 🍬 nonsense.

Jane: I don't really see her wanting to become this bitchy bossy corporate bitch as she grows up but I wouldn't mark it as impossible. I can even shrug at her wanting to regulate troll reproduction but raping Jake and then dragging him into an abusive household in 🍬?? Enstating some dystopian corporate fascism, pretty much following the steps of the Condesce?? HAVING SEX WITH GAMZEE??? And even keeping him at home like he’s part of the family now and giving him (her?) milk?? That whole plotline was more intense than most darkfics I’ve read, holy shit. Jane had already gotten the shaft in canon with a bunch of her plot points going nowhere, like her planet quest, or her whole detective thing getting ditched, and she spent a lot of time being possessed by a computer so in the end was not surprised to see her get the shaft again. We see much less of her in 🍖 but she's like the same character there.

🍬&🍖Jake: he started becoming a punching bag at the end of canon and grew up to become Jane and/or Dirk’s punching bag, wow. I’m greatly distraught at how much his almighty ass is talked about, and yet we see NONE of it! NADA! Would have also liked to see Brain Ghost Dirk make an appearance. No way Jake was dealing with all his shit without occasionally meeting him.

🍬Roxy: whatever happened here, that was not fucking Roxy wtf, that was an empty ghost of a person who, at the very end when she reconciles with John, started sounding like Roxy again. What an absolute shame.

🍖Roxy: they are kinda okay at first, when with Callie, but then they become a he and he reminds me a lot of Tumblr transtrender groups because he's just kinda mimicking Dave, like Roxy's got no personality of his own. I want to believe he just didn't find himself properly yet. This is far from the canon Roxy, especially when he says all that shit about societal gender expectations? Like, bitch, the chesspeople weren't judging the way you dressed and acted wtf.

🍬&🍖Dirk: more Dirk splinters should practice their 3rd favourite hobby of decapitation. It was fun to have him take over the narrative at first in Meat but he just spiralled down into a huge douche, sometimes straight up sounding like Caliborn. Don’t you miss when Dirk was just a lost kid wanting to become a better person? Don't you miss it when he wasn't such a massively insufferable pretentious cunt?

🍬Kanaya: Kanaya definitively exists. She feels like she was washed off of some of her charm. Otherwise not much to say, we also don’t go into much detail on her.

🍖Kanaya: she was turned into an annoying worried wife. Wow. And then gets tricked just like that. Hey remember when Kanaya's personality didn't revolve around her wife? I miss that.

🍬&🍖Beep-beep-meow: he's annoyingly more PC (not the only one but since it was Karkat, known for shouting rude shit at everyone, he was the more grating case). Overall they don't do much with him and he just loses a but of his shine in both cases.

🍬&🍖Terezi: she got the bad ending, what else is there to say? I did like her tho. She's still not taking much shit, not even from the prince.

🍬Gamzee: oh you mean the clown that haunted the fuck out of 🍬 and made some of it both hilarious and extremelly disgusting? Yeah that was someone wearing the skin of Gamzee for sure.

🍬Vriska: I'm just so fucking tired of Vriska. I get that people love her but I couldn't care less about her. At least she's making comedy now in HS^2 instead of being just a bitch.

🍬Aradia: eh she's fine and having fun.

🍬Sollux: ffs why did they have to bring the worse and more useless pre-retcon Sollux. I fucking love Sollux and want to see the version of him that isn't always brooding and can't do shit. I want the post-retcon Sollux who's a cool guy half the time. And then at the end he gets abandoned because honestly? Maybe that's what pre-retcon Sollux fucking deserves.

🍬&🍖 Calliope: I hope you enjoyed seeing like 0.5s of alpha Callie before they hide away forever because of scary Callie, who becomes hella annoying in 🍖.

#homestuck #homestuck epilogues #epilogues spoilers #long post #tretas da eva #i just really needed to get tgis out #ESPECIALLY THE BIT ABOUT SOLLUX #sfw

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ageofgeek · 4 years

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Guys...they did the impossible. I liked Rise of Skywalker! They ended it well, and there were a bunch of parts that I REALLY liked (and really only a few parts that I was "meh" about).

SPOILERS UNDER THE READ MORE!

So! Let’s go through the main reveals/plot points and then I’ll go into more specifics. Rey is Palpatine’s granddaughter - I’ll be honest, I did NOT expect that. I think after TFA came out, I reblogged a gifset that included all of the Rey parentage theories, and I was like, “lol what? who the hell thinks that Rey is a Palpatine? wtf?” And now it’s canon? Honestly, it’s the same kind of batshit reveal that I’d expect from Star Wars, so I’m kinda okay with it.

Kylo Ren’s redemption was...not as terrible as I thought it would be. As y’all know, I am very anti-Kylo and anti-R*ylo, so I thought I was going to Suffer in this movie. But I was surprised by how I felt about it - only mildly irritated instead of bursting with rage. I still think he doesn’t really have a personality other than 1) whiny 2) manipulative and 3) emo, but I did like the scene where he hallucinates Han and repeats his line from TFA (”I know what I have to do but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it”). That being said, it is still highly questionable to have Kylo’s redemption built on Leia’s death/sacrifice for her son (it reads a little too much like fridging a woman to save a male character), but I will excuse the filmmakers for that because they didn’t have much footage of Carrie Fisher to work with, so there wasn’t too much they could do if they wanted to commit to not digitally reconstructing her (which I am glad they did not do).

I digress (I’ll talk about Leia in the next paragraphs). I did like that Kylo just showed up to the final fight with Palpatine in like, a henley and slacks. It seemed like a very Skywalker thing to do, lol. Also, thank God that he died. Like, damn - I see all these Kylo stans being so upset at his death, and I’m just like? His character purposefully paralleled Vader - a parallel which I think was weak, at best, but still, a parallel - and you thought that he wasn’t going to die? Also, what would have happened if he had lived? Oh right, he would’ve gone to prison for the rest of his life and not gotten married to Rey and have kids, lol, what universe are you living in? As it was, I think that they did his death well - like Vader, they had him sacrifice himself for somebody that he loved (although the bond between Rey and Kylo is, once again, much more questionable to me than the bond between Luke and Vader/Anakin). And like Vader, he turned back to the Light because of his family (Leia and Han). Thinking about the 2 other ways Ben’s character arc could’ve gone (1) he doesn’t turn back to the Light or 2) he turns back to the Light but doesn’t die), this was the only satisfying way to end his arc (at least in my opinion).

That being said, I REALLY could’ve done without that kiss. Like, really? You just had to force it into an unnecessary romance? You couldn’t have just had them hug or cradle each other, platonically? Both of the climactic emotional moments of the previous trilogies were completely non-romantic, and both focused on love of FAMILY - Luke cradling Anakin, his father, as he dies, and Obi-Wan being forced to “kill” Anakin, his brother. It would’ve been so much better if they had ended this one with Rey cradling Ben, her brother, as he died. But no, we can’t have nice things because heteronormativity exists. *sigh*

But, we’re moving on. I thought that they handled Leia’s character really respectfully - I think Carrie Fisher would’ve been proud. I’m still bitter and sad that we only got one scene in the entire sequel trilogy with Luke and Leia (the OG Skywalkers and you only had them in one fucking scene together? Goddammit), but that force ghost scene at the end with the two of them made me happy - it was a bittersweet happiness, but happiness all the same (also, since it is canon that force ghosts get to chill and rest and be happy in the afterlife, I am more than happy with that ending. It also makes me want to write a ton of fanfiction. Stay tuned for that). I also burst into tears when Leia died and Maz stood near her bedside and whispered, “Goodbye, Princess.” Wow, that did things to my heart!

Ian McDiarmid continues to be a goddamn delight to watch as Palpatine, and he was genuinely creepy and horrific in this movie. I still feel like bringing Palpatine back to life (albeit in zombified form) was a real slap in the face to the perfect ending of ROTJ (and it especially cheapens Anakin’s role as the Chosen One, which is really a slap in the face for me), but they did it as best they could. I think I would’ve preferred if Palpatine was in spirit form in this movie, trying to come back to life by using Rey as a conduit or a body? Something like that would’ve honored the end of ROTJ a bit more while also bringing him back as the big villain.

All in all, I liked TROS much more than I hated it, especially since I had pretty low expectations going in. I’ve talked about the big “reveals” and moments so far, but I really liked the little things in this movie! For example:

Rey, Finn, and Poe were a full-on OT3 trio in this movie, and I loved it! The mission to find the wayfinder in the desert? Adventures! Chase scenes! Exploring! Jokes! I loved it - it was definitely giving me “Tatooine in ROTJ” vibes. They all kind of wandered apart in the second half of the movie, but they came back together at the end for that hug!! Which made me cry buckets!! (Poe holding Rey’s hand as they both hug Finn??? Wow, OT3 goals, they are so in love)

Chewie and Lando were great! Lando felt a little random in this movie (no explanation as to where he was? No mention of Han’s death?), but I always appreciate Billy Dee Williams, so I’m not complaining.

In that same vein, WEDGE CAMEO!!! They got Denis Lawson back, and right after I got back on my Wedge/Luke wagon! Damn, I wish we could’ve seen more of him (maybe there are some deleted scenes??? Listen, I neED MORE WEDGE IN MY LIFE).

And again in the same vein as cameos, um, that Jedi voice scene??? Listen, ok, hearing Hayden’s voice again was more than I ever thought we would get, I was sO EMOTIONAL, I heard him and almost immediately burst into tears. And they got Ewan and Liam Neeson and Samuel L. Jackson(!!!), and the voice actors for Ahsoka and Luminara and WOW I am super emotional, that was hands-down the best scene in the movie for me. I was so happy to hear all of them - the acknowledgement of the prequels and the rest of the Jedi, FINALLY, after 2 previous sequel movies that didn’t give a shit about them. FINALLY we got this. And you know what? I would’ve been even happier if they had shown their faces, but I will take it. I will fucking take it. (That being said: Oh, Disney Gods - please let Hayden return for flashbacks and/or hallucinations in the Obi-Wan series. Please. It’s all I want in life).

The confirmation that Leia trained as a Jedi and had a lightsaber - I almost full-on clapped in the theaters at that scene. And I loved the training sequence/flashback that they had with Luke and Leia - they actually showed them sparring and I loved it so much! It was amazing - why couldn’t they have included that earlier? (Cue me singing: “We could’ve had it allll!!!!!”).

Luke’s Force Ghost appearance really redeemed his character from the beating it got in TLJ. It was a short scene, but it felt so much more like the Luke Skywalker I know and love, and I’m glad that they gave Mark Hamill a chance to really play Luke again.

The end scene with the Resistance coming to help. It felt a little Endgame-ish to me (then again, that was arguably the best scene in Endgame), but we definitely came full circle from TLJ, where the Resistance was basically abandoned on Crait and nobody answered their distress call. In TROS, everybody answered their distress call.

I also like that C3PO had a bit more of a role! I really love R2 and C3PO, and I like that they kept to Lucas’ original vision of the two of them being the only ones to be in all 9 films. I also deeply appreciate R2 being with Leia when she died - that felt incredibly moving and appropriate, and also coming full circle from Leia’s first scene with R2 in ANH.

Finn being confirmed as Force-sensitive! Finally! Fucking 4 years since TFA and we finally got it - hallelujah.

I think that’s about it! Honestly, I’m just so high off of the endorphins of hearing Anakin and Obi-Wan and all of the Jedi again! That scene made the entire movie worth it for me.

But this is the end of the Skywalker Saga, and that makes me really sad. The one thing that I am really upset about with regards to this movie is that it literally ends the Skywalkers. At least if you end the original 6 movies with ROTJ, the implication is that Leia and/or Luke will continue the Skywalker lineage, and they will continue to be leaders and jedi and heroes - but when you add in the sequel trilogy...it just ends. Anakin’s grandson turns to the dark side and ends up (indirectly) killing Luke, Leia, and then himself. And THAT’S how the Skywalkers end? After the tragedy that was Anakin (and Padme’s) life, history just repeats itself and the family line ends? That’s...depressing. But I think that the sequel trilogy, in a way, is still very distant from the other 2 trilogies - in a way, it reminded me of a weird, high-budget delve into the EU that is technically canon, but doesn’t feel like it’s canon???

Either way, I’m happy to accept the sequel trilogy as pseudo-canon, but still apart from the original 6 movies. I’m glad that we got to see some, if not all, of the OT characters again. I wish we could’ve gotten more - out of the old and new characters - but what we got was okay, and I enjoyed the ride.

And now, I’m just going to go cry over the Skywalker family and read force ghost fanfiction :’)

#tros #tros spoilers #star wars #sequel trilogy #mine #rant #resistance era

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thdorkmagnet · 4 years

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The Seven Marcos (Star is Snow White AU part 2)

Summary: A series of one-shots and multi-chapters proving why Star Butterfly should be considered a Disney Princess, as Star and company take over the roles of all your favorite Disney Princess characters! (Starco inevitable)

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Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. Snow White belongs to Disney. All rights go to their respective owners.

Part 1 here

The forest was dark and foreboding, everything within bathed in shadows, the air alive with tension and malice. Few dared venture this far into the woods, even the bravest adventures would find a hard time crossing through the dimly lit jungle. There were many whispered rumors about the place some believing it to enchanted by a witch and that any who passed through would suffer a grim curse.

This didn't seem all that unbelievable, many things playing into its notoriously disturbing rumor, which only added to the fear. For one thing, strange and frightening noises could always be heard echoing through the treetops, as if some unknown creature was watching you just out of sight... waiting. Not to mention the fact that everything within the woods was creepy and distorted, even the trees were mangled in bizarre looking shapes, even sort of faces could be made out of the rough bark, grimly sending fear into the hearts of any who passed. Yes, it seemed the whole place gave off an unignorably eery feeling, as if there were some kind of dark magic at work there, making any who entered uncomfortable.

And it only grew worse the deeper in you went.

The particular stretch of forest Star entered was no different, the princess having walked for quite a while, the forest growing darker and colder the further in she went. She paused for a moment, wiping some stray leaves that had clung to her, before she looked up at the trees that surrounded her on all sides. They all seemed to have evil, sinister faces on them, glaring at her with wooden fangs pocking out of the bark, their sharp branches spread out like claws about to grab at her, the little light poking through the dark treeline above accenting the terror of the non-living creatures in front of her.

Suddenly, Star rolled her eyes, scoffing to herself, as she waved the trees off, saying in a semi-laugh, “Please you're gonna have to try harder than that to scare me.” She then, walked past them without a second thought, going even deeper into the woods, humming a happy tune as she did. Just as she disappeared out of sight, the trees all seemed to wilt, their scary looking faces shifting into sad, almost disappointed frowns.

…

Star continued on for several hours, going deeper and deeper into the heart of the woods, as the day slowly drew itself to a close, mostly just wandering aimlessly, thinking to herself and trying to fight off the horrible case of boredom she was suffering from. She was really starting to wish she could come across something, anything, other than stupid trees, Star even finding herself wanting to see something actually scary just to give her something to do. But even that hope was dashed, as she apparently had reached an end to the woods creepy section, the girl now wandering in a fairly beautiful and peaceful haven hidden at the dark forest's center, its bright and colorful nature the exact opposite to its dark and shadowy counterpart that lied just beyond the treeline, a hidden gem in a sea of shadows and gray.

Even as twilight began to creep in and the sun began to set, the sky turning a delightful and enchanting shade of red as it bathed the land below it in its soft glow, marking an end to another day, the forest still seemed alive with positive energy. Star could hear birds singing and chittering away in the treetops, as well as see other woodland critters happily grazing the lush landscape, a babbling brook running through the area creating a comforting melody.

But Star was far from feeling peaceful, her boredom beginning to make her feel frustrated. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Star had reached her limit, as she groaned loudly, slumping herself back in a pouty manner, ignoring the comforting sensation she was getting from the soft object she was currently laying on. “Ugh, so borrreed,” she moaned to herself. “No wonder nobody ever comes out here, there's literally nothing to see.”

“Well, other than that cottage over there,” the pink cloud spell named Cloudy (that Star was currently riding on) said cheerfully.

Star sat up immediately, curiously looking around her. “What? What cottage?” Star asked eagerly, overjoyed for something new to see, hearts once again appearing on her cheeks, beating once, before vanishing. Now that she was looking she spotted it quickly, Star indeed surprised she had missed it in the first place. It was a nice little two-story cottage, tucked in a fairly peaceful and secluded clearing, a dirt path Star couldn't believe she had missed leading to the country house, the place homey and appealing to the young princess. Though Star was surprised to see it there, under the impression that nobody ever entered this deep into the woods, much less lived there. But it seemed she was wrong. “Good catch, Cloudy,” Star praised her happy-go-lucky spell. “Now let's go see if anybodies home.”

“Sure thing, Star,” the cloud responded immediately, flying quickly over to the cottage in an attempt to try and fill his master's request faster.

Once Star and Cloudy were close enough to the cottage, Star slid off of the floating pink fluffball, finding it easy enough to walk the rest of the way. She turned back to the living cloud for a second saying cheerily, “Thanks, Cloudy, but I think I can take it from here.”

“You're welcome, Star,” the spell responded, its eyes twinkling. “I love you!”

“I love you too,” Star whispered in embarrassment, her cheeks turning pink, as she raised her wand in the air, undoing her spell. Cloudy screamed in pain, before it vanished from existence, its cry fading out a second later. Star, however, seemed unaffected by this, as she skipped off toward the cottage without a second thought.

Once Star reached the door to the cozy cottage she knocked on the firm, wood frame. She waited for someone to come answer the door, humming to herself and rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. But after a while, no one came.

Star frowned, before knocking again, this time a bit harder. “Helloooo!” she called, hoping to draw their attention. She waited once more for someone to let her inside, crossing her arms, her foot tapping away impatiently. But again, there was no reply.

Star groaned in frustration, before knocking as hard on the door as she could, waiting with clenched fists, this time not expecting much. And her suspicion was correct, once again the door left untouched and unopened.

Finally, she stepped around to a nearby window, pressing her face against it as she squinted inside. Though it was dark, Star could see that the house was empty at the moment, Star unable to make out any movements or signs of life from within. “Nobodies home,” she said to herself.

Star thought for a second trying to decide what would be the best course of action. Should she go in or not? With nobody there, this meant that Star would be intruding on someone else's private property and if she was caught she could be labeled a creep by the only other apparent resident of the spooky forest. But on the other hand, Star needed a place to stay, really not wanting to be wandering around alone in the dark. Star felt indecisive, leaning against the country house, with a tired groan. Then, her stomach growled, making up her mind for her, as she said, “That's it,” before marching back around to the front door.

There was a loud explosion as the door to the house was blasted off its hinges, landing inside the house, burnt and broken, followed by Star saying, “Oops.” She stepped inside with her now-smoking wand a guilty look in her eyes, the wand still a little more potent than she was used to. She looked around to make sure no one had seen anything, before picking the door back up and propping it half-haphazardly against its frame, before calling it good enough. She turned on her heels so she could get a good look at the home she had broken in t- err, she had entered. Or at least she would have, if the room wasn't pitch black. “Ugh, why is it so dark in here?” she groaned.

She waved her wand, doing a graceful spin, chanting cheerily, “Luminescent Glowworm Lightshow!” Suddenly, the room was covered in smiling, floating glowworms making it far easier to see everything. “There, that's better,” she said, giving a small nod, allowing herself a successful smile.

“Hi Star!!” all the luminescent creatures called as one.

“Hi guys!” she replied, equally joyfully. With the house now well-lit Star could see that the place was just as homey on the inside as it was on the outside, Star feeling quite comfortable already in there, though she did notice that the house was kept absolutely spotless, the floors scrubbed clean to perfection, everything organized and put in its prospective place, and not a speck of dust or cobwebs anywhere to be seen. Whoever did the cleaning there was an exceptionally tidy person, borderline obsessive. “Wow, someone really likes cleaning,” Star said to herself, as the distinct scent of soap drifted to her nose, even though that seemed rather unlikely considering the house had probably been abandoned all day.

This was when she noticed the next thing about the house, it wasn't owned by merely one person, in fact she figured it was instead shared by seven people, due to the fact that that number kept popping up over and over again, all throughout the home. Everything in the house had been divided up perfectly for seven people, from the number of chairs they had to sit in, to the number of cups they had setting in their cupboard, and so on and so forth. Seven, seven, seven.

“Huh? So this place must belong to seven people, then?” she concluded, thoughtfully, walking up the steps that led to the second floor. “Well hopefully they won't mind taking in one more house guest.”

She paused in the doorway of the bedroom, staring in at the seven neatly made beds, not a wrinkle in sight. “Oh, great,” she dead-panned. “They all are super tidy.” She herself was not the most organized person in the world, but she would have to be extra careful about making messes from this point on to ensure that she stayed on whoever lived there's good side. She just hoped she could convince them to let her stay, Star figuring a lot of begging would be involved, especially after what she had accidentally done to their door (She should probably try and fix that actually, before they got back). Still, there was no point in stressing about it now, she would just cross that bridge when she got there... or when they got back... or whatever.

She was just about to head downstairs, when suddenly, a wave of exhaustion flooded over her, her whole body feeling as heavy as a brick, causing her to yawn. She rubbed at her now-heavy eyelids, Star really struggling to stay awake all of a sudden. She had no idea what had brought her sudden fatigue on, Star realizing she must have been more worn out by everything than she had thought. Who would have figured that being almost killed by an assassin sent by your adopted mother bent on taking over your throne would take so much out of you?

Without realizing it, she found herself laying down on the nearest bed, still yawning, settling easily into the comfy pillow and soft sheets, now bathed in their warmth. She knew she should try and stay awake, so she could greet the owners when they got back but she had no idea when that would be or even if it would be anytime soon. For all she knew they would be gone all night, so she concluded to take a tiny nap, just to get her energy back. “I'll just close my eyes for one minute,” she mumbled half-asleep, her heavy eyelids already shut, as she gave in to her exhaustion and allowed herself to rest.

A moment later, the girl was snoring, already fast asleep.

…

Not too far off from the country cottage, seven young boys all wearing bright red hoodies marched through the woods in a line, all of them ready to get back home after a long day of work. Though they all wore the same exact outfit their choice in fashion was not the only similarity the boys all shared. In fact, they were mostly identical, the same brown hair, same brown eyes and tanned skin, even the same mole on all of their left cheeks. They were all spitting images of each other, the similarities between them too many to count. They even shared the same name: Marco Ubaldo Diaz. Though there were some noticeable differences, too, all of them slightly altering their appearances just enough that that they could be told apart to help make it less confusing.

The one in the lead, who wore a brown sweater vest ontop of his hoodie and a pair of glasses, held up a lantern to light his path, as he guided his matching companions through the dark woods. He smiled as he spotted a familiar sight just up ahead, their cottage looking quite welcoming after a long day in the mines. “Hey guys, I can see the house up ahead. We're almost home.”

“'Bout time,” The Marco behind him mumbled, annoyed. He wore a black leather jacket over his hoodie, a pair of fingerless black gloves, a purple beanie laying over his messy, unkept hair, and a random band-aid on his cheek. He had his hands tucked deep in his pockets, walking forward with a noticeable slump and an angry frown on his face.

“Yeah we made it!” another one of the boys cheered, pumping his fists excitedly in the air, a bright smile permanently engraved on his face and his eyes always shining with unsuppressed joy. His hoodie was tied around his waist, showing off his white undershirt that had a picture of a yellow sun on it. “Isn't that great, Marco?!”

He turned to look at another of the Marco's, who gave a short little nod and a thumbs up. There seemed to be no noticeable difference in the boy's choice of clothing in comparison to the others, wearing just his hoodie, black slacks and green sneakers like the rest. The only difference for him came from the fact that he never spoke a word, having to gesture any emotion he wanted to relay.

The hyper boy picked up his pace so he could give his scowling counterpart a playful nudge with his elbow, to his obvious annoyance. “Told you we would make it back!”

The leather-wearing Marco rolled his eyes, snapping in irritation, “Whatever?” He roughly shoved the cheerful boy away from him without a second thought. “Would have gotten here sooner if someone hadn't gone the wrong way.” He gave the Marco in the lead a knowing look, the smugness on his face unmistakable.

The glasses-wearing boy came to a stop as he shot him a glare at the comment. “Hey that's not my fault,” Marco said defensively. He pointed to another one of the hooded boys. “He's the one who made us go the 'safe route'.” He did air-quotes on the last phrase to demonstrate his point. The others all sighed.

“What?!” the Marco in question cried, looking quite offended by their negative behavior, looking between them all with a frown. His choice in fashion was more safety-inclined, wearing a blue helmet, a safety vest over his hoodie, as well as a fanny pack which was for, in his words exactly, “just in case”.

“The way our leader wanted to go was known for bear attacks! Forgive me if I wanted to keep everyone from getting eaten.” He crossed his arms in a pouty gesture. “And we made it back, anyways, didn't we? And with all our limbs attached. So really you should all be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” leather-clad Marco asked knowingly, raising a cryptic eyebrow.

“You're welcome,” the other boy shot back, giving him a smug smile.

“Hey guys,” another voice whispered shyly from the back of the line, this one wearing his hood up at all times, his face always covered slightly by shadows. He blushed as all eyes were drawn to him, looking away from them and slowly shrinking a bit into himself.

“What? What is it, Marco?” the smiling Marco said, moving closer so he was leaning in to his face, which only made the other more nervous and unsure.

“Umm, well I-I...” the boy stuttered out, his voice getting softer with every word, tapping the tips of his pointer fingers together nervously.

Finally, the black-clothed Marco let out an annoyed sigh, before snapping, “Just get to the point!”

The blushing boy gulped, before blurting in a still-quiet tone, “Well, I just noticed that there are lights on in the house is all.”

All the Marco's turned to look back at the cottage, seeing that their shy counterpart was right, though it was faint and far away, there was a noticeable light seen seeping from the windows, even from that distance. “Okay who's turn was it to put out the candles this morning?” the glasses-wearing Marco asked, looking between the others accusingly.

His gaze, as well as most of the others halted on the final Marco, who was looking sheepishly around him, noticing everyone now staring at him. He was more unkept than the others, his hair messy and his clothes slightly disheveled with little rips in the hoodie and jeans here and there. He also had a large band-aid on the top of his forehead, but unlike the other boy's, who’s seemed more for show, his seemed to be serving its actual, intended purpose. “Uhhh, well technically that would be me,” he said guiltily, raising a finger in the air.

“Of course it was,” leather-wearing Marco scoffed, rolling his eyes. The others all shook their heads, all of them well aware of how accident-pron the boy could be sometimes... or a lot of times.

“You need to be more careful,” cautious Marco cut in, wagging a scolding finger in the air. “The whole house could have burnt down. Do you have any idea how easy it is for a house to catch fire from an unsupervised flame?”

“But I swear I remembered to do it this time, you gotta believe me,” the boy shot back, shooting them all an innocent smile, his eyes pleading. “Just ask Marco, he'll vouch for me.” He pulled the silent teen in front of him, who nodded his head in agreement to what his counterpart was saying.

“Well someone left the lights on,” the safe boy said, putting his hands to his hips. “And since it was your job that means it had to be you!”

“But I didn't!”

“Actually I saw him, too,” the blushing Marco whispered shyly, but he was vastly ignored by the others as the two Marco's continued to go at it. “Oh okay, never mind,” he muttered, rubbing a hand up and down his arm.

“Come on guys, let's not fight,” the leader of the Marco's said, literally stepping between the two, trying to quell the argument before it could get out of hand. “We're all Marco's here.”

“Debatably,” leather-clad Marco spoke up, shooting the smiling boy next to him a glare, while, sliding his hands expertly into his pockets.

But the perky boy seemed unfazed by the insult, as he slung an arm happily around the glaring teen, while pocking him in the shoulder with his free hand, “Oh come on, Marco. You know you love me.”

“You are literally the worst,” the rebellious boy snapped, pulling out of his grasp. “Can't believe I was ever this perky! And stop poking me, you're gonna mess up my jacket.”

This caused their leader to tiredly pinch the bridge of his nose, releasing an exasperated sigh. “Can we just... go home please, before the whole place burns down?” he asked flatly, too overwhelmed to deal with the situation any further, already walking off toward the cottage.

“Okay let's go!” the happy-go-lucky Marco exclaimed in joy, already racing off toward the house, three other Marco's following after, the shy boy keeping his head down so as not to attract attention, the safe Marco watching him and the others closely to make sure they didn't trip on anything, and the black-clothed teen following with an annoyed scowl, looking like he clearly had better things to do.

That left only the clumsy Marco and the silent Marco alone, watching the others go, clumsy Marco looking more and more distressed by the second. “Wait, guys, I really didn't do it!” he shouted after them, but they were either too far away to hear or just didn't care to listen anymore. He sighed loudly, a hurt look in his eyes as he turned to his silent partner. “You believe me, right?”

The mute gave a sad look, patting him on the shoulder to show he understood.

…

The closer the five got, the brighter the lights became, until the glasses-wearing Marco put out his lantern, finding its light unnecessary, the forest now well-lit by the glow from their country home. Eventually, the Marcos found themselves standing in front of their home, all of them relieved to finally be back. They all stared up at the country cottage, examining it closely as they walked to their front door, able to easily make out the features of their lovely home from the bright lights still being cast out the windows within, lighting up the whole area. “Geez, how many candles did the idiot light?” the black-leathered teen observed in annoyance, feeling a little confused how a few measly candles could be creating so much luminosity.

“Well, look on the bright side,” the hyper boy said cheerily, taking a second to chuckle at his unintentional pun before finishing. “At least it's still standing.”

“Yeah, thankfully,” cautious Marco mumbled, still a little peeved about his counterparts blatant disregard for safety. “He could have burnt the whole forest down with that many candles.”

“But he didn't,” happy Marco defended. “Everything is safe and sound, just like you like it.”

The other Marco sighed, before an almost relaxed smile graced his lips. “Yeah, I guess you're right. I mean it doesn't look like anything caught on fire.”

“That's the spirit, Marco!” the leader of the Marcos said, proud of his nervous counterpart for being positive for once in his life, turning to look at him and the others, as he reached out a hand to push the door open, saying reassuringly, “See, I told you there was nothing to be worried ab-”

But the boy never got to finish his sentence, as his hand carelessly brushed against the rough wood, the whole thing immediately falling over revealing the inside of the quiet cottage, making the boy stagger. Every single Marcos' mouth dropped open at the sight that greeted them within, the entire area coated in smiling, glowing worm-like creatures, which were floating in the air.

The startling creatures, all attracted to the loud noise, turned to look at the five boys who still stood agape in the doorway, huddled together in a small sea of bright red. For a few seconds there was just silence, as the five like-minded teens stared at the wondrous glowing creatures. Until finally, the boys seemed to have recovered from their shock all of them releasing a high-pitched scream, reminiscing that of a girl. The glowworms also screamed, before flooding out of the house, the Marcos having to jump out of the way to avoid getting hit by the stampede of floating worms.

Just as the creatures were exiting their home, the final two Marcos stepped out of the woods and into the clearing outside their house, both of them thrown off-guard by the creatures heading right toward them. Clumsy Marco tried to dodge out of the way, but ended up tripping, falling into his quiet friend causing them both to land hard on the floor, as the swarm of creatures flew over their heads. “Sorry!” the guilty boy screamed.

The others all just watched in awe as the glowworms disappeared into the night sky, heading off to who knows where as they panted, trying to recover from the shocking ordeal. Once he knew it was safe, the klutzy Marco helped his mute partner up, still muttering sheepish apologizes to him.

“What the heck was that?!” cautious Marco shouted.

“Uhhhh, I honestly have no idea,” their leader muttered in response, his eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “They looked like... worms or something.”

“Well whatever those things were, they're gone now,” leather-clad Marco pointed out.

“Yeah, but, something had to of let those things inside,” the leader said, sounding deep in thought. “Not to mention knock the door over. And since none of us were here than... it must have been somebody else.”

“What?!” cautious Marco exclaimed, instantly on guard, raising his hands in some sort of karate stance. “Like-like-like an intruder or-or a burglar?!”

“Don't know,” the boy replied, his voice soft and mysterious. His gaze slowly shifted to the broken shambles of what was once their door. “But whoever it was, packs a big punch.”

“But how could that be?” the clumsy boy pointed out, as he and his quiet partner caught up with the rest. “We're the only ones who live out here?”

“Apparently not anymore,” leather-clad Marco said, as he and the others all looked into the doorway.

“So, what do we do?” shy Marco asked, softly, looking to the leader.

“Move!” the safe kid shouted in concern, his suggestion met with a lot of eye-rolling from the others.

“Other than that,” leather-clad Marco said in a huff.

“Well one of us should go check out the house, just to make sure they're gone,” the leader said, adjusting his glasses.

“But how do we decide who that is?” the klutzy boy asked.

Nobody answered, as they all just looked amongst each other, nervously, casting weary glances at the doorway, none daring to volunteer for the crazy task, waiting for someone else to speak up instead. After a moment of anxious silence, happy Marco finally blurted out, “Not it!” to which the rest of the Marcos quickly reciprocated, all but the mute boy shouting out the same phrase, cementing themselves as free from having to traverse the now dangerous home.

“Well looks like it's all on you, Marco,” the leader said to his silent companion, the others trying to hide their sighs of relief.

The boy pointed to himself in shock.

“Yes you,” rebel Marco said, rolling his eyes, before sharply pointing his finger inside. “Now get in there.”

The silent boy took a step back, shaking his head vigorously. He looked around at all of them helplessly, his eyes pleading for them to not make him be the one to do it. He even did a little begging gesture with his hands, his eyes widening, giving them a sad puppy-dog look, but unfortunately the other Marcos were immune to the adorable stare. “Come on, Marco,” cautious Marco insisted. “You know the rules. You lost fair and square.” The boy put his hands on his hips, raising a knowing eyebrow.

“Okay, okay, so technically you couldn't really talk so it wasn't exactly fair,” the other Marco corrected himself. “But what do you want us to do about it?”

The quiet one released a soundless sigh, before taking on a brave face and marching into the house, having to step over the fallen door. The others waited in the doorway, watching him intensely.

The mute made quick work of the first story, checking in every area he could think an intruder would hide in within the living room and kitchen. But after a couple of second it became apparent he was alone, save for the six pairs of brown eyes watching his every movement. The boy looked around at the small one-story floor, tapping a finger to his chin, knowing that it would be unlikely any intruder would be down there. Most likely if they were still there they would have gone...

Marco looked up at the second floor, the door to the bedroom left wide-open. He did an “ah-ha” gesture, before turning to the others with a proud smile, pointing to the wooden staircase. He quickly went over, before slowly scaling up the creaky steps, trying to be as quiet as possible.

The others just watched in growing sadness, until the shy one of them said, “There goes one brave Marco.” The others all nodded.

“Well, looks like we're officially down to six,” the black-clothed teen said.

“Funny I always thought the clumsy one of us would have been the first to go,” happy Marco pointed out.

“Me too,” klutzy Marco exclaimed in joy, sounding just as surprised. He did a small little fist pump in celebration. “Yes, outliving expectations!”

…

Marco slowly peeked his head into the bedroom, his brown eyes searching the dark room thoroughly for any signs of an intruder. It didn't take long before he noticed the small figure laying on one of the beds. Though the boy couldn't tell anything about the shadowy figure currently on the timid Marco's bed, he could tell by their soft breathing that they were fast asleep, hearing the tell-tale sound of snoring every so often.

He hesitated for a second, unsure if he should risk waking the stranger, before he began to carefully tip-toe closer, until he was standing over the bed, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark enough to inspect their trespasser. But once he did, the boy was shocked and amazed by what he saw, the person in front of him not some mad, crazy thief but a beautiful blond girl. She was about his age, her face looking gentle and peaceful as she slept, and the boy felt his cheeks flush instantly as he noticed how cute she was. It had been a long time since he or any of the others had seen anyone from outside the forest, all of them choosing to a life of seclusion from the rest of the world, so the boy couldn't remember how long ago it had been since he had last seen a girl. Much less one that pretty.

For a moment the boy was frozen in a blushing state of shock as he just watched the pretty blond sleep, his eyes shimmering as he was mesmerized by her simple act of breathing. For just a second he thought he saw pink hearts appear on her cheeks and he blinked caught off-guard by the sight. He rubbed his eyes, but when he looked again they were gone, Marco thinking it must have just been a trick of the light. Or maybe...

“Hey Marco did you find anything?!”

He cringed at the loud voice yelling from below, watching the girl wide-eyed for any reaction. But the girl was stuck deep in dreamland, simply rolling over, making a little moaning sound, before falling back to sleep and the boy released a silent sigh, putting a hand to his pounding heart. He quickly exited the room, before anyone could shout anything else to him, looking down over the railing to the bottom of the staircase where the rest of the Marcos had gathered, all of them seeming a little shocked to see him there.

“Marco, you're alive!” the cautious one shouted in relief. While behind him, the grumpy one of him handed over some cash to the smiling boy, who excepted the cash with an “I-told-you-so” look.

The silent boy just nodded, shooting them all a comforting smile.

“Did you see anyone up there?” the leader Marco asked, seriously.

Once again, the boy nodded and all the Marcos gasped.

“So someone is here,” the safe boy muttered, sounding fearful.

“Were they dangerous? Did they attack you?” glasses-wearing Marco asked, looking equally as panicked.

“Did you fight them off, at least?” the black-leathered teen asked, crossly.

The mute Marco waved his hands in front of him, shaking his head.

“Wait, so they didn't attack?” the cautious boy asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Did they seem like fun, then?” the happy Marco blurted, feeling far less weary of the stranger than the others, his scowling counterpart shooting him a glare. “What?” the boy asked innocently.

“Does it look like they took anything?” the leader tried, ignoring the outburst from the other.

Silent Marco thought for a second, before shrugging unsure, but the look in his eyes told them that he didn't think so.

“Huh? So then what are they still doing here?” the nervous boy asked, his eyes wide with freight.

Marco pretended to go to sleep, putting his hands together and laying his head against them.

“Sleeping?!” they all shouted in surprise.

Marco immediately put a finger to his lips, trying to tell them to keep their voices down, his eyes jumping to the still-opened door with a grimace. The other boys all started to talk at once, asking questions to the silent one, who kept opening his mouth and raising his hands to answer but was unable to, due to all the interruptions.

“Wait, what are they doing sleeping in our house?”

“What do they look like?”

“Who are they and what do they want?”

“Did you tell them to get lost?”

Finally, the boy sighed giving up on explaining, before waiting patiently for them all to quiet down. Eventually, they stopped, just watching the hooded boy. He gestured to them to follow him, before going back into the room, figuring it was better to just show them what they were dealing with. The others shared a look with each other, feeling unsure, before climbing up the staircase after their far braver counterpart, wearily.

A minute later, all seven boys were gathered around the bed staring wide-eyed at the sleeping girl, all of them with slight blushes on their cheeks, though none worse than the shy ones, that particular Marco's face the brightest shade of red any of them had ever seen him, while he nervously muttered things to himself under his breath and looking at anything in the room other than his bed and the blond currently asleep on it.

“I-It's a girl!” the glasses-wearing Marco stuttered needlessly, adjusting his glasses as if afraid his eyes were playing tricks on him.

“We can see that genius,” the rebellious Marco growled though he also looked very thrown-off guard.

“But who is she?” the safe one asked, eying the girl suspiciously, despite the fast beating of his heart. “And what is she doing here?”

“S-She's in my bed,” the boy's heard a voice squeak behind them, all of them turning to see the bashful boy, who apparently had recovered enough to speak and who looked like he was on the verge of passing out, probably due to all the blood rushing to his face. “W-W-What is s-she doing in my bed?”

They all shared a look, knowing they had to do something to try and calm their counterpart down, as he went back to muttering under his breath, his whole body shaking. “Deep breaths, Marco,” the leader said in a soothing whisper, moving beside him, so he was patting the boy on the back, trying to get him to recover from all his worrying thoughts. “Deep breaths.”

“Yeah, it isn't that big of a deal, is it?” the smiling Marco tried, also patting his companion on the back, but far less gentle than the other, keeping his voice down to a semi-yell. “I mean, so what if there's some super pretty girl sleeping in our room...”

The boy's eyes widened as he seemed to of realized what he said, he and all the others simultaneously whipping their heads back toward the snoozing blond. “Guys,” glasses Marco breathed, his face turning redder and redder by the second. “Th-there's a girl.... in our room.”

“What do we do?” klutzy Marco asked, his hands unknowingly tugging at the strands of brown hair that were poking out of his helmet.

“Tell her to leave, of course,” rebel Marco stated as if the answer was obvious.

“Wait! We can't wake her up,” the safe kid said in a loud hiss.

“Why not?” the leather-clad teen argued. “It's still our house, after all.”

“Well, because...” the boy started, but drifted off into silence, unsure of the answer.

Rebel Marco huffed. “Look, pretty or not she still broke in and she has to go.” The boy realizing what he said, quickly looked away from the others, coughing into his hand to try and cover his blush. “Anyways, I'll bet she's nothing but trouble,” he added.

“Awww come on we don't know that,” the happy-go-lucky boy defended, sticking up for the girl.

Meanwhile, Star slowly began shifting more and more in her sleep, the sound of voices finally reaching her in her slumbering state, pulling her out of her peaceful dreams. The safe Marco seemed to of noticed this, as he said in a nervous whisper, “Uhhh guys, I think she's starting to wake up.”

The others immediately dropped their own conversations as they realized their paranoid counterpart was right, gasping in shock and backing away from the bed. “What do we do? What do we do?” shy Marco said in panic, looking around the room for a hiding spot. In the end he settled for hiding behind the glasses-wearing Marco, most of the others doing the same, all except the rebellious Marco who refused to hide behind anyone like a coward.

Finally, Star woke up completely, sitting up slowly, yawning and stretching, as she rubbed at her tired eyes. “Where am I?” she wondered to herself groggily, looking around at the unfamiliar dark room. That was when her eyes landed on the seven figures hovering close to her bed, the light from the doorway casting shadows on them, giving them a creepy look. She let out a startled scream, causing the boys to jump.

“Uhh, hi,” the lead one said, nervously, giving her an awkward smile and holding up a hand in greeting. “We-”

“Mega Narwhal Blast!” Star screamed, not giving the boy a chance to explain himself, as she instinctively held out her wand at the group of creeps.

“No, no, no! Wait, wait, wait!” the boy shouted, but it was too late as a giant shining narwhal appeared from nowhere, causing all the boys to scream in alarm, before it slammed into them. The next thing they knew, they were all thrown back out of their bedroom, still screaming, and into the cramped hallway.

Somehow all of them managed to remain standing, but poor clumsy Marco found himself dangling over the staircase, every other Marco pressed against him, coming dangerously close to falling over the lingering perch, his arms waving wildly as he tried to keep balance. But the hooded boy lost his fight against the force of gravity and the inevitable, as he and the others all tumbled down the stairs together, the narwhal following right after.

Star could hear the racket from the bedroom, a loud set of banging and cries of pain resulting as they painfully clattered against the wooden steps on their way down to the first story floor. Meanwhile, Star could only stare wide eyed at the opened doorway, still holding her smoking wand up, a look of fear on her face as she realized her mistake. Finally, the clattering stopped, the room going unbearably quiet for Star, the girl jumping off the bed and running out into the hallway. She leaned over the railing looking down at the pile of limbs and regret waiting at the bottom of what had probably felt like a really long staircase, the narwhal, of course, laying on top of them all, crushing the houses residents under its massive weight.

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!” she cried, running down the steps two at a time, going over to try and help the poor unsuspecting victims. She used her wand to reverse the spell, diminishing the heavy narwhal from existence. “I-I can't believe I just did that!” she exclaimed, guiltily. “I guess I just saw you all there and I just reacted- anyways I'm sooooo-”

Star's apology was cut short as she suddenly took notice of the seven boys in front of her, who were all rubbing at their different sore limbs from the rough fall. She was surprised to find that all of them looked unbelievable similar, apart from a few differences in their appearance here and there, the boys seemed to be exactly the same person, even down to the cute little mole under all their left cheeks.

But she heard one of the boys moan in pain and she quickly shook her head, snapping herself out of her stupor, as she said to him, “Oh right, here let me help you.” She hauled him to his feet, the boy opening his eyes and staring into the face of his rescuer. That was when the boy's face flushed, turning a brighter shade of red than his hoodie and his body began shaking uncontrollably. Star noticed this and asked in concern, “Are you okay?”

“I-I-I-I-” the boy squeaked out, unable to answer the worried princess, before he lowered his head so Star could no longer see his face. Star recognizing him being overcome with embarrassment mercifully released his arm, the boy immediately pulling away and hiding behind the nearest available look-alike, pulling his hoodie further and further over his eyes. The boy he had chosen, who wore a black leather jacket, stared at her with an icy glare, Star feeling the room grow colder at the hard look.

“Sorry I didn't mean to scare him,” Star apologized. She looked around the room at the equally weary and angry faces glaring back at her and she giggled nervously. “Sooo, are you guys all like... brothers or something?” she risked, hoping to break the ice.

“Actually we-” one of them started, but he was interrupted as one of them jumped to their feet in a panic, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“Don't answer that!” he screamed, pulling the boy a step further away from her, Star taking note that this boy was wearing a helmet and safety vest. “She broke into our house, remember?! And she just used magic, so she must be some kind of witch!”

“I'm not a witch!” Star said, sounding quite offended at the accusation.

“Then how could you make all those weird and crazy creatures by using that stick thing?” the first boy asked, finally removing the hand from his mouth, though he sounded far less suspicious than the others, sounding almost mystified by Star's magical capabilities, his eyes shimmering with intrigue. He wore his hoodie around his waist, Star noticed.

“Well first of all it's called a wand,” she explained waving the object around a bit in her hand, which caused the helmeted boy to flinch and duck for cover behind his friend. “And secondly it's because I...” Star stopped mid-sentence, not sure if she should tell them about her true identity yet or not. “...I just can, okay,” she finished weakly, crossing her arms and giving them all a sour expression. “But that doesn't make me a witch.”

“Witttccchhh,” the smiling boy whispered loudly to the boy next to him.

Star huffed. “I'm not a witch, I'm a magic princess, okay?!” she said, angrily. Her eyes went wide as she realized what she just said, the others all looking at her with mixed levels of confusion and surprise.

“Wait what?” the glasses-wearing boy asked in shock.

“Uhhh nothing,” Star said quickly trying to dodge the subject. “I didn't say anything.”

“Yes you did, you just said you're a princess,” another one of the boys argued, this one looking far messier and unkempt, in comparison to the others that is.

“Nope, no princesses here,” Star answered anxiously. “Just a normal, ordinary, non-princess girl who can use a magic wand is all.” She chuckled nervously, sweat dripping down her face. The boys all gave her disbelieving looks.

“Rigggghhht,” the leathered teen huffed in anger, rolling his eyes. “Well whoever you are, just get out of our house already.” He sharply pointed a finger to the still-gaping entrance to the home.

“Wait you guys can't kick me out!” Star cried, her eyes pleading as she held the wand up to her face.

“Uhhh, pretty sure we can,” the glasses-wearing boy stated. “Considering you broke in.”

“Yeah and you ruined our door,” the suspicious boy added, still hiding behind one of the others. He sighed, shaking his head in disgrace. “We just got that fixed too after the last person who destroyed it.”

“Hey I said I was sorry,” the disheveled of the set shouted, defensively.

“No, no, wait, wait,” Star said, rushing over to the entrance. She waved her wand over the empty frame as a new door appeared magically in its place, looking the same as the last one. “See, all better.” She chuckled nervously, giving them an anxious smile, and she took solace as some of the boys faces seemed to soften a little, though not much. “If you let me stay I swear I'll- I'll make it up to you,” she added.

“How?” the suspicious boy asked.

“Uhhh, well maybe I can, ummm, help clean your house,” she started, before looking around the spotless living room, as the others raised their eyebrows at her and she sighed. “Oh right, well there has to be something I can do.” The boys still didn't seem convinced, so she clapped her hands together in a pleading gesture, looking at them with the saddest puppy dog look she could. “I'll think of something, just please don't kick me out! Please, please, please.”

Everyone was silent for a moment and Star held a breath as they all looked amongst each other with varying levels of skepticism, none of them looking sure about letting the girl stay. That was until, the final of the boys stepped out, walking over to the girl and putting an arm around her to show he was on her side.

“Oh wait, don't tell us you actually trust her,” the grumpy one said, harshly.

The boy nodded his head, puffing his chest out to show his resolve.

“But we don't know anything about her,” the safe one added.

The boy shrugged as if to say, “So?”

“We don't even know her name,” the glasses-wearing teen said wearily.

“Well I don't know any of your names, either,” Star pointed out.

“Then how about this,” the hyper one suddenly spoke up. “If you tell us your name then we'll tell you ours.” He looked around at all the others. “That sounds fair, right?”

“I guess,” the cautious one muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No,” the leathered teen snapped.

“Great!” the happy one exclaimed, ignoring the other two. He turned to Star with an eager expression, impatiently waiting for her to tell them her true identity. Though, Star was grateful two boys had stuck up for her, they had just put her on the spot, leaving her no alternative for staying. She either told them the truth or get thrown out into the dark woods, meaning she had to make a decision... and fast.

“Okay fine,” she sighed, giving up. “My name is Star Butterfly,” she said, a bit more perkily.

The boys all gasped in shock at that. “As in... Princess Star Butterfly?” the glasses-wearing boy muttered in disbelief. “The heir to the throne, Princess Star Butterfly.”

“The one from the royal scrolls,” the perky one spoke up, holding up the paper in question, pointing to it.

“Yep. That's me,” Star replied, proudly. “Though those things do tend to over exaggerate some things,” she added, rolling her eyes.

“Wow, so you are a magical princess!” the hyper boy exclaimed, his eyes shining with joy. The others also looked quite overjoyed by the revelation, smiling amongst each other, all except for the rebellious teen, who still looked far from convinced and the safe kid who continued to cast weary glances her way.

“I can't believe I'm really meeting you for real!” the perky one continued, as he shot her a mind-numbingly wide smile. “I've always wanted to meet you! I've read all the stories about you!You sounded so amazing and cool!”

Star smiled, finding delight in the boys praise, feeling her cheeks warm up. “Thanks,” she said, returning the smile with one of her own. She was shocked though as all the boy's mouths dropped open, Star looking between them with confusion for a moment. “What?” she asked.

“Your... cheeks,” the leader said, blinking.

Star put a hand to her cheek to see what all the fuss was about, finally noticing that her body had once again reacted to her emotions, as the hearts resurfaced onto her cheeks, beating in time to her pulse. “Oh yeah,” she said, nonchalantly. “They tend to do that sometimes. No big deal.”

“So then its true,” the safe one whispered, mystified. “You really are Princess Star.”

“But what are you doing out here in the middle of the woods?” the klutzy boy asked.

“Welllll,” Star said, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “It's kind of a long story.”

“Try us,” the leader said.

So Star told them the whole story, telling them every little detail of her day, finding the seven boys surprisingly easy to talk to, as she found herself rambling on and on about how big of a jerk her step-mother was, the boys all just listening in a saddened silence, even the previously suspicious one looking more and more sympathetic of the girl. Only the rebellious teen seemed unaffected by the tale, as he had resided to sulking in the corner, casting glares at the others every so often, while the rest just watched the girl intensely as she finished up her story. “And then I saw your cottage and decided to see if anyone was there, and I, uhh, accidentally knocked your door down, and then I fell asleep, and then you all came back and woke me up and then, well... you know the rest.”

“Wowww,” the clumsy boy said, in disbelief of the whole, crazy tale. “That's... horrible.”

“I can't believe the queen would do that,” glasses-wearing boy said, softly, looking at her woefully. “I'm so sorry, Star.”

The mute boy put a hand on her shoulder, looking at her with sad eyes, trying to relay his sympathy to her without being able to speak.

“Yeah, you're just so cool and fun,” the hyper boy said, his face an uncharacteristic frown. “Why would anyone want to hurt you?”

“Thanks guys, that's so sweet of you,” Star said, giving them each a grateful smile.

“But being attacked by a monster!” the cautious one said, his eyes wide with fear. “And with no monster repellant, you must have been so scared!”

“Not really,” Star said, bravely. “Buff Frog is actually pretty nice. I'm just lucky she didn't hire that Rusticore guy, now he would have been trouble.” She rolled her eyes at the thought of the ruthless huntsmen she had heard stories about.

“Well, if you really need a place to stay then...” the leader said, looking around at the other boys for their input, silently consulting them on their opinion on the matter. But seeing the resolve in their eyes he took a deep breath and said, “...we'd be happy to let you lay low here for a while.” The rest of the boys all nodded in agreement, wanting to help keep the young princess safe from her cruel step-mother, even the suspicious, cautious boy looking open to the idea.

“Really?!” Star exclaimed in joy.

“Yeah,” the boy said. “We'd all like you to stay.”

From the corner, the leathered teen loudly cleared his throat, clearly trying to draw their attention and the four-eyed boy frowned, before correcting himself, “Well, most of us would like you to stay.” He shot his look-alike a glare, before turning back to Star. “But he's outnumbered, so it doesn't matter.”

“Awww, you guys,” she gushed, her smile never wider. “Hugs!!” she cried, sweeping the six boys into a bone-crushing hug, not noticing as their faces blushed from the act. “This is gonna be so amazing!”

Suddenly a thought came to her, as she finally released the bright faced boys from the hug. “But wait, I just realized you never told me any of your names.”

The boys all looked amongst each other for a second, Star confused why they were all suddenly so hesitant. “What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at them.

Finally, the safe one said, “Our names are... Marco Diaz.”

Star blinked, taking a second to process that information. “Okay wait, wait,” Star said, in clear confusion. “So your parents named all of you Marco, cause that's a little weird.”

“What? No, no!” the cautious Marco exclaimed immediately, realizing she didn't understand what they were getting at.

“We don't just share the same name,” the happy Marco helpfully supplied. “We're all the same person!”

“Whhhhaaat?!” Star shouted, her eyes wide in surprise.

“Well we used to be, until a few years ago a witch cursed us,” four-eyed Marco explained. “Or me, I guess,” he added, rolling his eyes, unsure, always finding explaining this super confusing, before continuing. “Anyways, she split us into different versions of the original Marco's personalities because she claimed I could never learn to live with myself.” He smiled before he said, “But it turns out I'm surprisingly easy to get along with.”

“Yeah!” the others exclaimed in unison, all simultaneously giving each other high-fives.

Star was more then taken aback by the unbelievable news, but she found the strength through her confused and befuddled mind to ask, “But why would she do that?”

“We don't remember,” the klutzy boy responded, sadly, the others hanging their heads in shame. “As a part of the curse she also stole all our memories of our life before.”

“And unless we can find a way to reverse the curse,” the smiling Marco added, his voice uncharacteristically tight. “Then we're stuck like this...” He gestured to the other look-alikes around him. “...with no memories of who we were.”

Star looked sadly between each of the Marcos, seeing the pain in each of their eyes, even the grumpy teen, looking hurt, staring intensely at his feet, his smug grin one of depression. Star thought for a second, wanting to find a way to help the boys, her own eyes slowly lowering to the floor. Until she spotted her wand and a small smile lit up her face as an idea came to her, light bulbs appearing on her cheeks for just a second. “Maybe I can find a way to fix your curse,” Star supplied.

The Marcos all looked at her in shock, stunned by the kind offer. “Really?” the leader asked, surprised she would do something for a group of boys she just met. “You think you could?”

“Well it's worth a try at least,” Star said, with a shrug. “My spell book has a lot of spells that talk about reversing curses maybe I can find one to help you guys.”

“You would do that for us?” the safe boy asked, putting a hand to his chest, feeling guilty for judging the girl so harshly when they first met, as his brown eyes shimmered with gratitude.

“Sure why not?” Star said, with a shrug. “I mean since you guys are letting me stay here it's the least I could do.”

“Awww, you are so nice!” the happy boy exclaimed, his joy returning full force as he swept the girl into a tight hug, the mute Marco doing the same. Star felt her cheeks flush for a second, no doubt her hearts returning for a brief instant, before they released her.

Star was surprised as the blushing Marco stepped closer to her, his cheeks still bright red and his hands twitching at his side. “Yes, Marco, what is it?” she asked.

“U-Um,” the boy stuttered, his eyes jumping around the room as he tried not to be nervous from the princess' stare focusing on him. “I-I-I just wanted to say thank you for-for helping us out.”

Star just smiled sweetly at him, happy he had finally spoken to her, those being his first words since they had met, celebrating the occasion with a quick hug, the boy going stiff at her soft touch. “Your welcome,” she said, cheerily, nuzzling his hot cheek for a second. Finally, she mercifully released him and he quickly went back to the other Marcos, hiding amongst their numbers, as his face flushed with more and more blood.

“Well welcome to our home then, Star,” the leader of the Marcos said, flashing her a warm smile.

“This is gonna be so much fun!” the joyful one exclaimed.

“Happy to have you here,” the safe one said, as well.

While the quiet boy gave her a thumbs up.

“Umm, thanks Marco...s,” she said, looking between them a little hesitantly, not sure how to address the very similar boys.

“Your welcome,” they all said simultaneously and Star looked between them wide-eyed.

“Okay well, this is just getting confusing,” Star said, crossing her arms in annoyance. She thought for a second, before saying, “Hey, I know, how about I come up with nicknames for all of you so I don't get you guys mixed up.”

The Marcos looked between one another, before shrugging, all except for the rebellious teen, who just continued to scowl unhappily.

“Eh, why not?” the glasses-wearing Marco said. “Having all of us being just Marco is getting a little old.”

Star clapped her hands together once in joy. “Okay then, let's see...”

She looked around at each of the Marcos thoughtfully, tapping her wand to her chin. “Hmmmm,” her gaze stopped on one of them and she pointed him out, the bashful boy immediately going beet red and shifting uncomfortably on his feet, looking at anything but Star. “You can be Shy Marco,” she said proudly, the newly-christened Shy Marco muttered something under his breath so quiet Star couldn't hear, while trying to bury himself in his hoodie, still hating being the center of attention, hoping she and the others looked away soon. Which she immediately did, turning to the Marco next to him, saying, “And you can be Quiet Marco, since you can't talk and all.” Quiet Marco just smiled and gave her a thumbs up to show her he liked the name.

“And you...” Her finger switched to the next Marco, who flinched, going into a karate stance on instinct. “You can be Safe Kid Marco.”

The others all chuckled at that, Safe Marco looking annoyed. “Laugh all you want, but there is nothing wrong with being safe,” Marco said defensively. He raised a finger into the air, before saying in a lecturing tone, “As a matter of fact-”

“Ooh, ooh, me next, me next!” the smiling Marco interrupted, enthusiastically, pushing Safe Marco out of the way, waving a hand wildly in the air.

“That's an easy one,” Star scoffed, smiling brightly. “You are the Fun Marco!”

“Yes!” Marco cheered loudly, pumping a fist into the air. “Fun Marco!” He and Star high-fived, Safe Marco coming up behind them.

“Why is he Fun Marco?” Safe Marco whined. “Being safe can be fun, too.”

“Yeah sure it can,” the grumpy teen muttered, rolling his eyes.

“At least I'm not a walking disaster area,” Safe Marco finished, looking over at the particular Marco knowingly.

“Hey that's not fair,” the boy in question said. “I'm not that bad.” He huffed, slamming his back into the wall behind him in frustration. But unfortunately, he had done so rougher than he had intended, causing a large crack to appear in the wall, which slowly crawled it's way up to the shelf above him, causing it to split in half and drop the pots and pans it held right on the unsuspecting Marco's head. A loud crash echoed through the cozy cottage, most of the Marcos and Star grimacing at the loud banging and rattling of the kitchenware hitting the floor, as well as the pained screams of the unfortunate teen. Once the dust had settled and the noisy clattering had ceased, the group just stared at the Marco who lay on the floor, groaning, rubbing his sore head, his bruised body covered in the metal pans. “Oww,” he groaned.

“Aw, you poor thing,” Star said sympathetically, walking over and offering him a hand up, which he eagerly accepted.

Once Star had pulled him to his feet and dusted his ripped hoodie off, Marco said in a sheepish tone, “So let me guess.” He pointed to himself. “Clumsy Marco.”

Star chuckled nervously. “Hehe, uhh, anyways, who's left,” she said quickly, dodging the question and scooting away from the now annoyed Marco.

“That would be me and Mr. Brooding over there,” the glasses-wearing Marco stated, pointing behind him at the still-scowling teen.

“Well I've got the perfect name for you...” Star said, in a sing-song voice, pocking him once in the chest, while flashing him a wide grin.

“And I think I know what it is,” Marco replied in the same tone, giving her a knowing look, smiling back at her.

“Dorky Marco!” Star screamed excitedly, Marco's smile immediately dropping.

He adjusted his glasses, saying matter-of-factly, “Uhh, I prefer the term Dr. Marco.”

“PhD,” Fun Marco added, raising a finger into the air.

“What does the PhD stand for?” Star asked the Marcos.

“Pretty Handsome Dude,” all of the Marcos said at once, causing Star to giggle.

“Okay then, Dr. Marco it is,” she said, flashing the boy a bright smile, Dr. Marco feeling his heart pound in response, fairly sure some of his brain cells fried from the adorable look. But before Dr. Marco could stutter a response, the last remaining Marco pushed him out of the way, closing in on the girl.

“Guess that just leaves me,” he said, giving the girl a smirk. “So what's it gonna be, princess?”

Star didn't like the way he said 'princess' but, she ignored it saying in a far-too-cheerful tone, “I think we should call you Grumpy Marco.”

All of the other Marcos burst into laughter at that, the leather-wearing Marco giving them each a chiding glare. “That's the perfect fit for you!” Fun Marco exclaimed, in between fits of laughter.

“Oh, shut up!” Grumpy Marco hissed, before turning back to the annoying girl, only to be surprised by the smug look she was giving, almost rivaling one of his own. Touche, the boy thought.

“Uh uh, no way am I going by that,” was what the boy actually said, in the harshest tone he could manage.

“But you are a bit of a grump sometimes,” Dr. Marco pointed out.

Grumpy Marco scowled at his nerdy counterpart. “I'm not a grump, I'm a bad boy,” he explained with annoyance. “If anything you can call me that.”

“Whatever you say, Grumpy Marco,” Star soothed, patting him on the shoulder, the boy giving her a narrowed glare.

“So,” Dr. Marco spoke up before the angered boy could say anymore, literally getting between the two before an argument could break out. “Now that everyone has been properly named, how about we all hit the sack and let our new guest get some rest.”

“Whatever,” Bad Boy Marco mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“That sounds awesome,” Star screamed, sounding as enthusiastic as ever. “And I have just the spell for the job.” She held out her wand, screaming, “Super Glitter-”

“Wait!” Safe Marco interrupted in a panic, running over and grabbing onto his wrist. “That's not safe!”

“Aww, relax, Safe Marco,” Star said soothingly, finding his concern sweet. “I'm a professional.”

“No, I mean, that for the time being you should try not to use your wand very much,” Safe Marco explained.

“What, why?” Star demanded, looking confused.

“You said yourself, the queen is looking for you so it's best if you try and lay low for the time being,” Safe Marco explained.

“But there's no one around for at least a hundred miles,” Dr. Marco pointed out, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

“Well you know,” Safe Marco mumbled, looking away from them all and sheepishly tapping his fingers together. “Just to be... safe.”

Bad Boy Marco rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

Star sighed loudly. “I guess your right,” she said, depressed. But the smile returned a second later in full force as she shrugged off the bad news. “Oh well, so I guess I'll just have to find a place to sleep here for tonight.” She looked around the room, thoughtfully humming to herself.

Quiet Marco elbowed Dr. Marco, giving the boy a knowing look as if urging him to speak up. “All right, all right,” he whispered quietly. He turned to the princess saying in a far louder voice, “Actually Star, why don't you take our room for tonight?”

Star cocked her head cutely to the side, asking, “Really?”

“Really?” Bad Boy Marco sighed at the same time.

“Yeah sure, why not?” Dr. Marco said with a shrug.

Star shook her hands in front of her, saying, “Oh guys, you don't have to do that.”

“Nonsense we insist,” Dr. Marco pushed, giving the girl an encouraging smile, all the rest of the Marcos, save for Bad Boy Marco, all nodding in agreement.

Star bit her lip, still not sure about taking advantage of their hospitality like that. “Wellll, if you're sure,” she said, hesitantly.

Star felt a hand on her shoulder looking beside her to see Quiet Marco, who gave a short encouraging nod and she smiled gratefully at him. But the moment ended, as soon as it began as Fun Marco quickly zipped between the two, practically pushing the startled Star up the stairs. “Don't worry about a thing, Star. You just go and get your beauty sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be awesome!”

“And be careful on your way up,” Safe Marco pitched in as Star started up the stairs. “One of the boards is loose.”

“I can vouch for that,” Clumsy Marco said in agreement.

Star smiled as she waved to the seven Marcos, hearts lighting up her cheeks again. “Thanks, Marcos,” she said sweetly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Star!” came the unanimous reply, as the blond made her way to the second floor.

Dr. Marco was startled by a tiny tap on his shoulder, turning around to see Shy Marco. “I have a question,” he said softly.

“What's that?” Dr. Marco asked.

“Well, if Star is staying in our room...” Marco held back a blush at the thought. “Then where are we going to sleep?”

None of the Marcos responded to that, as all of their eyes slowly turned to the couch, where a lone pillow sat waiting.

…

Star hummed happily to herself as she ascended the stairs, not hearing the clattering and crashing below, her mind elsewhere. She felt extremely lucky really that the seven Marcos had actually opened up their home to a complete stranger, especially considering how they met. And they all seemed really nice and sweet... well except for maybe Grumpy Marco, but she had no doubt she could wear him down with time.

Yep, she was really looking forward to getting to know them all better. After all, they did seem like a ton of fun. And with them around, Star would never have to worry about being bored ever again. She wondered what it was going to be like living with seven bizarrely one dimensional teenage boys. One thing was for sure, it certainty wouldn't be easy and possibly a little strange from this point on, but Star couldn't wait to see what kind of crazy, wild adventures awaited her and the seven Diaz boys.

#Star vs #Star vs AU #My Writing #Star is a Disney Princess #Starco #Star is Snow White

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nightcoremoon · 5 years

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ok so let's talk twilight. girl meets vampire. girl falls in love with vampire. vampire falls in love with girl. girl and vampire start dating. evil vampire wants to eat girl. vampire kills evil vampire.

new moon. vampire leaves girl. girl gets depressed. girl rebounds with werewolf. werewolf wants to fuck girl. werewolf realizes he's the rebound. werewolf leaves girl. girl seemingly attempts suicide. vampire learns about this and attempts suicide. girl goes to tell him she's not dead. vampire king gives a warning.

eclipse. vampire and girl are back together. evil vampire girlfriend wants revenge. evil vampire girlfriend makes evil vampire army. vampires and werewolves kill evil vampire and army. vampire king gives another warning. vampire marries girl.

breaking dawn. vampire and girl get married. and fuck. girl gets pregnant. baby will kill girl. but abortion is ~evil~. girl dies and gets turned into vampire. werewolf wants to fuck the baby vampire. vampire king shows up to kill the baby. it was a big misunderstanding lol. happily ever after except for the people who died.

that's the gist of things for anyone who doesn't remember.

ok so there's two groups of people. team edward, people who are satisfied with the canon. team jacob, people who say "fuck that, girl should be with werewolf instead". and many people on team jacob proceed to say that team edward all condone pedophilia and stalking and other terrible things. fandom wars happened. and in the end, most people moved on.

...

but not me.

now, I wasn't an obsessed super fan. I thought the first book was boring as shit until the second half. it took me a month to read the first half and three days to read the second half. I read the entire second in literally one day. the entire third in like 3 days. and the entire fourth in like 5. I watched all the movies in theaters. but none of this was by choice. my mom and my several sisters basically made me, but it was okay I guess. personally my fandom progression started with final fantasy 12. it moved into eragon, death note, jak and daxter, avatar the last airbender, invader zim, tales of symphonia, a dash of harry potter, sly cooper, my little pony friendship is magic, dead space, red vs blue, twokinds, resident evil, etc. I'm not in the twilight fandom by choice, but I know all the lore and trivia so fuck it. I might as well be.

I'm team edward.

I know what you're thinking. "but he's 100 years old trying to fuck a teenager! he watched her sleep! he almost killed her drinking her blood! he made her suicidal and depressed! he was super jealous and possessive whenever jacob was around! he broke her bones when they had sex! he impregated her with a monster baby that killed her! HE IS TEH EVILEST EVAR!!1"

let's take this one piece at a time.

1- he didn't try to fuck her. she tried to fuck him. but he said not until she's a full grown adult capable of making her own decisions, and not until marriage ~because premarital sex is wrong~

2- yeah watching her sleep was a little creepy but we can attribute that to stephenie meyer thought it was romantic because she's a dumb white mormon cultist

3- he is a VAMPIRE, and not by choice. and it was either suck the poison out of bella or let her become a vampire. which he didn't want to happen because ~being a vampire sucks 🥁~ so yeah he saved her life. and he managed to not drain her dry and kill her even though her blood is so goddamn delicious because she's a fucking mary sue

4- he didn't make her suicidal and depressed by leaving the country so she didn't get in any life threatening situations like being around jasper who has the self control of a fat kid in a twinkie factory. bella just took the breakup really really badly, and if someone reacts badly to a breakup, it's on THEM, not the other person. saying any differently is, what's the word, toxic and clingy. her emotional instability for plot is just indicative of the author's inherent misogyny (which makes sense, as dumbass mormon cultists are rife with the stuff)

5- he was not jealous and possessive. JACOB was the one who was toxic, since "that cold one will TAKE MY BELLA AWAY FROM ME". jacob wanted bella for himself because he had a crush on her since they were kids, and it was a super unhealthy obsession. edward could read his thoughts and was pissed; consider his backstory in hearing potential rapists' thoughts and killing them. but edward couldn't kill jacob because he was bella's friend. nothing more, though, and jacob fumed in his nice guy fedora

6- again, edward is a VAMPIRE, and a horny bastard at that, because he is a gentleman and therefore probably was a virgin too. he even told bella countless times that it would happen but bella thought it was #WORTH to get some of that hot vampire dick. I guess she's into some super kinky shit. no wonder 50 shades of grey made sense as a twilight fanfiction. anyway, bella seems to have fully consented, otherwise she's the world's most unreliable narrator.

7- the monster baby plot arc was propaganda against female bodily autonomy because "teh babby haz a SOUL and abortion is MURDER even tho she'll LITERALLY DIE otherwise but hey backwoods redneck mormon values are more important than the lives of women, right? anyway, ironically enough, he respected her bodily autonomy by not fixing the mistake he didn't think could happen (uterus vampires can't get pregnant but dick vampires can get other people pregnant? NANI, THE FUCK???) because bella didn't consent to him killing the fetus that was literally breaking her bones from inside since ~abortion is wrooOOoong~

and now, counterpoint.

...and counter-counterpoint.

"edward groomed bella" edward's main focus when she was 16 was to not kill her and drink the delicious cherry fanta, and his main focus at 17 was to make sure she didn't die and that nobody else killed her and drank her delicious cherry fanta, and only when she was a full ass adult was he like "alright fine you wanna marry me sooooo bad here's ur fuckin diamond ring". yeah they made out but like, consider that a FUCKING MORMON WROTE THIS BOOK. one can't fault a character for the dumbassery of the author. that's why in this house we stan james potter. and besides, a few years ago whilst playing truth or dare I at 21 was dared to kiss a 17 year old and I did- granted I didn't know he was 17 at the time but that doesn't even matter because granted edward was a lot older than 21, but granted that doesn't even matter anyways because you know how many teenage girls would make out with oscar wilde, keanu reeves, chris evans, or danny devito jason momoa if they had the chance? I know I would have. it isn't necessarily sexual unless you want it to be. besides, the argument could be made that brain development stops when you become a vampire, considering their body stops developing too. technically edward had the brain and body of a 17 year old, he was just 17 for a long time. so any way you slice it, there are acceptable explanations justifying this in the magic fantasy land of what-ifs and JUST BAD WRITING.

we good?

now let's tackle jacob.

he demanded she "choose" him over edward. he was just as childish and petty as mike. oh, poor mike. he was just too dumb. SWM be like. anyway, he literally abandoned her, his friend, because she wouldn't fuck him, when she needed her best friend the most. because that's who jacob was to her. he was her best friend. she kinda ignored him because edward is smexy and it overpowered her tiny teenage girl brain, or at least that's the author's excuse (yay for internalized misogyny). when they were in the mountains and he was keeping her from dying of hypothermia edward literally had to ask him to stop thinking about fucking her. while she was unconscious. which is kinda rapey. and then to top it all off, he wanted to fuck her baby daughter. so jacob is literally every single thing people called edward. he is jealous, possessive, creepy, obsessed with bella, and a whole bunch of other stereotypes associated with brown skinned man wanting to fuck white skinned women.

...

oh dear god.

wow I can't believe that the white woman who took an existing native american tribe and rewrote their culture to fit her vampire love story for white girls to have a sexy ~exotic~ savage feral werewolf boy in the love triangle turned out to be a racist all along.

so ideally, jacob would be the ideal partner for bella. lore-wise as well. bella and jacob grow old together in their plain regular normal human lives (and hopefully bella's face doesn't get clawed off like sam and leah BIG OOF FOR THE DOMESTIC VIOLENCE), edward and tanya get married like they were supposed to do all along and gallivant off and do vampire things, all that jazz. edward isn't creepy and weird, bella isn't a magic mary sue with a magic fucking jean grey mind shield, jacob isnt an asshole.

but after reading the books and the evidence provided, I cannot in good conscience be team jacob over team edward.

thank you for your time.

fuck stephenie meyer.

and fuck all the dudebros who dog on girls for liking twilight anyways, as if dudebros don't watch and consume shitty media all the time.

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jcmorrigan · 4 years

Text

Notes from a Racecar Bed

The F/O? Giovanni Potage from Epithet Erased. The S/I? Rachel Scribere - mundie, writer of much fanfiction, independent contractor supervillainous minion who has also given up on adulting. (Most of those things apply to me IRL!) I’m only YT-current, not VRV-current, and it’s been four episodes, so I’m well aware this ship could get sunk at any time. I’m just having fun while I can. AU where I have a more “normal” job based on real-life events but do evil on the side. This ficlet features some sensuality (though no overt sexuality), discussion of illegal activities I only do in my fantasies and would never do IRL, and a blatant admission of how many ASMR videos I have watched, because cringe culture is now dead on my blog.

***

Like so many nights before, sitting on the racecar bed, me with my legs crossed, him curled behind me. So lucky he likes to spoil his favorite minion, I thought.

Though given who we were, it wasn’t a sexual tantalization. No, he’d found the weak spots in my shoulders. His fingers would dig into them for less than a minute and I would be like a collapsing water balloon.

“ – and then she fuckin’ waves me over, even though I’m helping that other guy,” I rant, “and I have to just up and abandon the dude and walk over to see what she wants, and it turns out her card doesn’t have enough money on it, surprise surprise, but oh noooooo she can’t possibly believe that, but I’ve got this guy waiting, so I go bug my manager, and she’s trying to tell me she’s on the phone, but I see this lady about to EXPLODE so I tell her that this CAN-NOT-WAIT, and long story short, that’s why this Saturday, I really need to get some cash the good old-fashioned illegal way.”

“What, like tricking a gas station clerk into leaving his station for just long enough that you can get behind the counter and steal an entire pack of scratch lottery?”

“…That was incredibly specific, Gio.”

His left hand kept massaging my shoulder; his right disappeared, and I could hear the nightstand drawer opening. “Prepare yourself,” he teased. “You’re about to tell me I’m the best boyfriend-slash-boss you could ever have in three…two…”

A pack of scratch lottery, thicker than a deck of cards, was tossed rather unceremoniously onto the blanket in front of me.

“Oh my GOD!” You’d think that would have been a scream of dismay and horror, but I’d lost my morals a long time ago. I picked the pack up with glee. “You even got the crosswords!”

“I know how much you love a good puzzle.”

“This is so gonna help me pass the time at my car appointment.”

I could feel him wincing as his right hand returned to my shoulder. “Just don’t, y’know, bring the whole thing to the dealership. Because if they see you with that – well, I learned that the HARD way.”

“Yeah, I bet you – “ I realized what didn’t add up. “Dealership? You drive a fucking Vespa.”

“WHICH YOU CAN GET AT DEALERSHIPS!”

“Fair point. Anyway, I’ll just sneak like five into my book.”

He ended it the way he always did – halting slowly, then dragging both palms down my back. I shivered, and I knew he noticed. “No offense, but I think my thumbs are gonna fall off.”

“I thought that was longer than usual.” I then stopped to ponder it. “…Have I ever tried on you?”

“Wait, what?”

“Have I ever tried massaging YOUR shoulders?”

I could hear a snicker from behind. “You know, that actually sounds amazing and quite well-deserved on my part.”

“Well, then let’s switch places, dork.”

First, I turned about to look up into his eyes, their gold flecks reflecting off the irises. God, I could call my eyes “the color of ocean at twilight” in parody fanfic 365 days out of the year and that wouldn’t change the fact that they were the dullest possible mix of blue-green-gray. And his eyes…they always sparkled.

His lips curled into a sly smile, his fangs peeking out beneath his upper lip. “Are you lost in my eyes again? I must say, I can’t blame you.”

I flushed, turning away instinctively. His hand beneath my chin, turning my gaze back up to meet his, changed that.

“Uh…hi?” I said rather nervously. Still wondering how this happened. How I could have been with someone for this long, nestled into him atop a racecar bed with his hands on my shoulders for half an hour, and still get so anxious about him.

“You know, Composer…” He was now smirking broadly. “Your eyes are the color of this one sapphire necklace I stole once. But also kinda mixed with the color of the worst bruise I’ve ever gotten. And man, was I proud of that bruise. And that necklace. Actually, I’m pretty sure I got those on the same day…the point is, they’re beautiful. Your eyes, I mean.” He pinched the hinge of my glasses, pushing them closer to my face.

Part of me I kept wanting gone but he obviously didn’t.

“Thank you,” I practically choked. “They’re…nothing compared to yours.”

“Well, mine are the best, but yours are a really close SECOND best!”

Now I was the one practically laughing. “Just switch with me.”

As we crawled around each other, I couldn’t help but admire his frame – I always did. Just something about his slender lankiness that made my heart speed up. Even sitting, he was taller than me, just by a bit, but enough that I felt dwarfed. Now I was faced with his shoulders, and above that, the fluffy fringes of his cotton-candy hair.

A lump rose in my throat; I was almost too nervous to start. After all, there was a very decent chance I sucked at this. I just tried to remember how I wanted it done; do unto others. I lay hands on him, beginning to work. “So tell me,” I urged, “what minor nuisances pissed you off today?”

“Well, I almost had to change Car Crash’s name to Vespa Crash.”

“Ouch.”

“Then there was the person with the whole ‘Anvil’ Epithet. Whose Epithet is ANVIL? I was lucky to get ou – I mean I was lucky to get a way better Epithet than that. I mean, Soup is better than ANVIL, right? But I was always going to get out of there with – “

He gave a sudden, sharp intake of breath, and my hands froze. I had just remembered how much I enjoyed when he dug into the very hollows of my shoulders, that all-too-often tense spot leading up to my neck, and had been attempting to mimic that. Probably a bad idea. “Did that hurt?” I asked softly.

To my surprise, he replied, “That…did the exact opposite of hurt. Keep doing it?”

“…Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

As I resumed, I found myself compelled to ask: “So, did that, like, turn you ON or – “

“Of course not, but this might be the closest I can get.”

“Well, you know you can always promote yourself to demi at this point and I won’t even be mad.” I gave my left hand a break to flick at the ends of his hair. “I won’t be able to help you with any of it, but – “

“That’s not in your contract, Composer. Don’t even worry about it.”

“Duly noted, Boss.”

I had been better at mimicry than I had expected. He was practically melting back toward me, his shoulder-flesh sinking beneath my hands. That was when I got a rather devilish idea. “You know…I may or may not have a few other tricks up my sleeve.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, play them on me and let’s see how well I withstand them.”

“You know the sheer volume of ASMR videos I watch, right?” This room being one of the few places I could bring that up and know I wouldn’t be mocked for it. Same way he could wear pink tie-dye pajamas and not hear any shittalk from me. “I’ve learned things. Things you wouldn’t believe.”

“Come on. I’ll believe anything from you, Composer.”

“Then don’t say you weren’t warned.”

I let his shoulders alone, sliding my right hand up into his bubblegum-pink hair. Struck once again by how ridiculously soft it was. He seriously put time into it. I started off in the traditional method – just working the skin of the scalp, same way as the shoulders.

“Seriously?” he taunted. “I mean, sure, it’s good, but this is just level-one stuff. Even I could – “

That little devil took over, and I changed tactics, using the gentlest of pressures to scratch through his hair with my fingernails.

“…Now thaaaaat’s more like level three.”

“I finally get to spoil you for once,” I said cheekily.

“Well, outside of the general gratification that automatically comes with recruiting you as an independent-contractor minion.”

“You’re sweet.”

“Yeah, well, that’s our secret, remember?”

“What secret?”

“About me be – “ He got it then. “I mean. Yeah. Right. I didn’t say anything. You don’t know what I’m talking about.”

He then flinched and gave a light “Yeep!”. I’d changed tactics yet again – lightly grabbing the roots of his hair and giving a mild tug.

“Did that hurt?” I asked, a new wave of anxiety suddenly washing over me.

When he warbled “No,” I could hear that it wasn’t the tone of someone in pain – it was the tone of someone who wanted more of that. So I dealt more out, lightly pulling locks on the left, the right, near the front, near the back of his head.

“I really did underestimate you on this front,” he admitted. “You know now you have to do this more often.”

“You keep doing my shoulders and it’ll be an even trade.”

“This is actually…really, REALLY relaxing…I could almost just…”

It was gentle yet sudden, him falling back onto me, pinning me to the headboard. The back of his head was nestled onto my right shoulder, nuzzling close to my own face.

“What,” I teased, “you’re falling asleep already?”

He didn’t answer. Just snuggled a little closer back to me, like I was some sort of body pillow. That was when I realized he actually had fallen asleep on me – quite literally.

“Gio!” I hissed, poking his shoulder. “Giovanni! Wake up!” Though I didn’t say it quite as loud as I could have. “I can’t sleep pinned up like this!”

He wasn’t moving, sound asleep.

Great.

I contemplated just shifting his position, laying him down properly or just scooting out from behind him. However, that ran the risk of a rude awakening, and…I just couldn’t. He was twice as adorable asleep as usual, and considering that average, that’s a pretty amazing statistic.

So I decided to try and make the best of it. Sure, I was pinned up against the seat of a faux car, but I had once bragged that I could fall asleep anywhere. (The airplane proved me wrong when I had no idea how to recline the seat, of course. Not a good sign in this case.) I tossed my glasses lightly to the nightstand and shut my eyes, attempting to make myself comfortable pinned between a crime boss and a hard place.

Strangely enough, it eventually actually worked, somewhat. I could finally feel that state just before sleep when none of your thoughts seem to make sense, turning into a frieze of colors that make up surreal images as the opening act for dreams.

However, I was just awake enough to be aware of a few things, if not so much to respond to them. One was of a weight being lifted off my chest and shoulder. The sound of a soft curse. A pair of hands gently locking over my forearms, and suddenly, things weren’t so vertical and solid anymore – perpendicular, much softer. (The mattress. I figured that out the next morning when I woke up in the usual position.) A muttering of words that I’m pretty sure were “There we are…nice and cozy.” Then, eventually, the pressure of a second body beside mine, clinging on like I was a life raft in the sea of somnolence, the only thing keeping us both afloat in the dream-realm.

#selfship #i'm at soup!

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allyvampirelass29 · 4 years

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Chapter 5: A Good Night to Die

A HEROES Fanfiction Angel Before the Fall Series By: Allyssa J. Watkins

“I am going to kill Sylar tonight."

Noah turned the iron spike over and over in his fingers, practically trembling with anticipation. It was red with rust and dried blood. The first time he'd held this spike, he was pulling it out of Sylar's skull. Tonight it was going back in for good. I am going to kill Sylar tonight. How many times had he said those words aloud, wielded them like his choice weapon, threatened it, savored it, promised it, to Claire as she sobbed against his shoulder, to The Company as he stood over the blood-stained carpet of yet another Special with the top of their head sawn off? Hundreds. And every promise, every vow had been a lie. Sylar was an infection, a cancer that he could never quite get all of, that kept coming back even stronger than before. Finally, after four grisly years, Sylar Gray had made a mistake. He'd fallen in love, and given Noah a heart to break, a weak spot to press and ultimately shatter. The plan was foolproof, flawless, and would end in Sylar's Death. It was an impending event, the only outcome, an actual definite. I am going to kill Sylar tonight.

He squeezed his fingers into a fist around the spike, his eyes sharp and focused as he imagined it dripping with Sylar's blood. That snarky psychopath had raised his lethal finger for the last time. I've got you, Gabriel. No more running, no more smart remarks or murderous parlor tricks. The chase is over.

"Hey Bennet, we got Ally to the cell, and gave your orders to the five guards in position. Man, your Primatech Paper Phonies, they make my brother's guys look like punk kids playing paintball!"

"Is she still unconscious? I need her completely blacked out, Sylar's already enough of a variable without adding Mrs. Smith too. In fact, I want all the intercom speakers to the detention wing silenced, alarms, emergency warnings, kill it all. When he comes, I do NOT want her to know. And Peter...... they aren't your brother's guys........ make no mistake, they're DANKO'S guys. Your brother is just the friendly face that legitimizes an ultra illegal operation. Don't forget that. I'm watching out for him. If we need anyone right now, it's Nathan Petrelli. He'll come around, you'll see. Killing Sylar is exactly the win we need to get him to stop this ridiculous witch hunt.

Peter got really quiet, biting the corner of his lip before looking at Noah with solemn eyes. "Thank you. Thank you, Noah. God....... I needed to hear that. It all comes down to tonight. I just want my brother back. Ally's down for the count, I'll tell the security guys about the intercom........"

"I have a question. What happens if someone comes here, actually wanting to buy some paper?"

Noah cracked a smile, as he pocketed the spike. "Good question, Parkman. You know, it's funny, in all my twenty plus years in the business, that has never once happened."

Noah stared at his flip phone on his desk, and Peter followed his gaze.

"Has he called yet?"

"Sylar? No, not yet, but it's coming. I can feel his hatred and rage from here. Rene hasn't checked in though, that's what's worrying me. I told him eight o'clock on the dot, or I'm deporting him."

"Relax. I just got off the phone with Claire, she's fine, she's having some kind of sleepover girls night with her dorm mates."

Noah whirled around, his features hard. "I didn't say anything about Claire, what do you mean you just got off the phone with CLAIRE!?"

"Whoah, Angry Dad, she called ME!! Your daughter's worried about you, Noah. C'mon don't give me that look, I played it cool, I didn't tell her anything about tonight. I'm her uncle too, remember? I told her Sylar was a near miss, and that The Haitian's there strictly as a precaution. Smart move by the way, Sylar's not getting anywhere near her with him hanging around.

"Perfect. Now you know my daughter's exact location, just what I wanted, and HELLO, "Cool Uncle Peter," how do you know that, "girls night sleepover," isn't the secret code for "college rager party with tons of strange boys," any one of them being SYLAR!? She's MY daughter, Peter, she may not have my actual DNA, but she inherited my lying ability pretty quick."

"I just want to say," Parkman started, looking at Noah earnestly, "I myself, didn't hear anything about where Claire may or may not be. And if she is where I don't know, Sylar's not getting it from me."

"Na, she's not trying to pull one over on you, Noah, I heard Notebook playing in the background, and at least one girl crying over some guy named Chad. I think we're good."

Parkman made a face, "Wait.......You've SEEN Notebook?"

"What? No......" Peter stammered, his cheeks turning red.

"How did you recognize it if you haven't seen it?" Parkman asked trying not to laugh.

"I..... I just guessed- I mean, I'm sure she told me the name of the- one of the other girls probably-

Both Parkman and Noah leaned in expectantly, with knowing smiles.

"Alright fine!!! I watched it with my mom one night when I got off late, she'd been fighting with my dad, and GEEZ it was just the one time, okay!"

"Did you fantasize about being Ryan Gosling?"

"No! Well, maybe a little....... Rachel McAdams is hot, alright?"

"Let's hope for the love of GOD you lie better to my daughter, than you do to us."

Suddenly the flip phone on Noah's desk rang, and a cold, deathly silence filled the room.

"That's him. Everybody out. It's showtime."

**********

Noah inhaled deeply, as he took the phone in his hands. The ring sounded angry, accusing. He flipped it open, his hand steady, and slowly brought it to his ear.

"Hello?"

Nothing at first. Silence. But it was the Sylar kind of silence, the calm before the storm, the kind of silence that was an obvious threat. He heard it then, the heavy, erratic breathing, and could almost picture Sylar, shoulders rising and falling as he struggled to keep his composure.

"Hey Syyy! I had a feeling you might check in. How's it goin' buddy? Thanks for the scar."

"......... Where......... is............ she?" Sylar's voice was seething, animalistic, and not at all human. It sounded the way you'd talk to someone right before you murdered them.

"I've got her, Gabriel. You want her back? You better be willing to make a deal."

Noah could practically hear Sylar's nostrils flaring on the other line, his fuming inhale as he tried to steady his breathing. More silence.

"Sylar?"

"DAMN you to HELL, Noah! You son of a BITCH, you have NO idea what you've just done!!!!"

"You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth? You'll be kissing her goodbye, if you don't start talking."

More silence

"Let me guess, Noah," Sylar responded venomously, saying Noah's name like it was an insult all its own. "This is the part where I break down sobbing, the distraught boyfriend, begging you not to hurt her, and offer myself in exchange, right? WRONG. I don't plan on dealing. This is a courtesy call. THIS is the LAST chance you'll EVER have to hand her over, before I raise hell all around you and take her anyway. You don't do every single damn thing I tell you, then you're in for the WORST night of your life, and oh GOD you're going to wish I'd just killed you." Sylar chuckled coldly, his voice dripping with dark sarcasm.

"You're not really in the position to be making any demands, right now, Sy." Noah smiled, his eyes razor sharp, practically feeling Sylar's back arch, disgusted. "I know you. You're playing it cool, chillin' like a villain, but you're going CRAZY without her, it's tearing you up inside, I can feel it, I can hear it, in the edge in your voice. You're off your handle, and you don't know what the HELL you're going to do........."

Sylar's nostrils flared with his fury, and he scrunched the burner phone in his hand as he lowered it against his cheek, tempted to crush it with his fist, his eyes flashing like wildfire embers.

He looked at the violent destruction all around him, half of it he didn't even remember doing, he'd been so blind with rage. It was one of his old haunts, a long ago abandoned hotel in Queens called, "The Rogue." The kind of place he would have never taken his lady. Dark blood spatter on the floor from previous kills, slashed paintings, broken ceramic pieces from lamps, ashtrays, soap dishes, anything he could throw, torn down wallpaper, green marble actually dug out from the floor, crumbling holes in the wall, shredded curtains and sheets, and an entire mattress torn clean in half, feathers still floating in the dusty air, after he'd ripped his way through the down pillows. Every single thing in the room had been ravenously demolished. His whole body shook with his deep hatred of Noah and how dead on he was. Damn right, he'd gone mental.

"Face it, Sylar. You're out of moves. Your shield is literally down. Checkmate, because I've got your Queen. Step away from the board and turn yourself in. You do that, and I might even let you say goodbye."

"What do you mean LITERALLY down!?" Sylar said far louder and much more concerned than he'd meant to. Damn it. He turned his head at an exact angle, feeling his chest expand. "No....... no, nice try, you wouldn't kill her before you got to me. Ha. Yeah right, Good Guy Noah Bennet. She's alive. I would know if you were lying. Besides, she probably reminds you too much of your precious Claire."

"Gabriel, you know better than anyone that Good Guys are capable of some very BAD things. She's not dead...... not yet. But if you don't give yourself up...... She will be. Especially if you even say Claire's name one more time."

Sylar waited for it, the reassuring tingle, his body signaling Noah's lie, his vision shaking. Noah was a good liar, but he wasn't a killer. He waited..... But it never came.

"I should have KILLED you in the alley, Noah. I had you. I had your throbbing jugular between my fingers, and I should have squeezed hard, until it burst open."

"You didn't have me, Gabriel. I had you. I had everything right where I wanted it. If you'd taken one step where you weren't supposed to be, I'd have shot her in the chest, her blood cloaking possibilities be damned."

"Please. No you wouldn't have. Even if you did, I can heal, or did you forget? You know who you can thank for that. One injection of my blood, and she'd be alive, and you'd be just another NYC homicide. You EVER shoot her, or so much as touch one curl, and I'll cut out your beating heart."

Noah grinned jovially. Oh he didn't know, didn't even realize it yet. He wished he could see his face as he told him. "Wrong. Your blood can't save her, you fool. One shot, she's dead. Her blood can't be altered by anyone but herself, or did YOU forget? You can give her every drop you've got, but she's not coming back. It doesn't matter if I killed her then, or if I kill her now, or if YOU kill her later. That's right, one day you're going to get in one of your moods, you're going to get angry, you're going to work out your aggression without thinking, and she's going to be standing too close....... Don't you get it!? You're going to kill her the same way you did your own sweet mother, the same way you killed VIRGINIA!!!!"

"DON'T YOU EVER SAY MY MOTHER'S NAME!!!!!!! Sylar screamed into the phone, his eyebrows slanted dangerously downward, his bottom lip shuddering, incensed. He punched another hole into the wall, with a yell, felt it crumble with the force of his fist, and watched his bruised and bleeding knuckles melt softly back into perfect skin. He was nauseous, his head swimming. He couldn't save Ally. If they took her life, he couldn't bring her back........

"You can save her, Sylar. Turn yourself in, and she goes free, untouched, safe, and you'll never have to worry about living through that trauma again. Her life for yours, it's that easy.

Noah could feel the uncertainty, the fear in Sylar's silence.

"You were right about one thing...... No matter how this goes down, I'll NEVER let you have her. You really think you deserve LOVE after all that you've done!? Villains never get the girl, Gabriel, there is NO happily ever after for you. After you DESTROYED my marriage there's no way in hell I'm just going to let you ride off into your twisted version of a sunset, with that girl, letting you use and abuse her to your black heart's content. I'd rather see her dead, than on your arm."

"You'll never take her from me again, Noah. I'm going to get her back, and when I do...... I'm going to punish you, ohhhh yes, I can make you feel pain that you'd never believe exists. You take away my dream, and I'll introduce you to your nightmare." Sylar felt his blood quicken, the killer within stirring, a slow smirk salaciously working its way across his lips. "The game's not over, it starts with me throwing away the board."

"Listen to you. You love it, don't you?" Noah said, a bit incredulous. "Sylar Gray, The Big Bad Boyfriend."

Sylar smiled, one eyebrow raised, his dark eyes positively sinful." It certainly makes the downtime more fun. So much more....... interactive."

"So you're sleeping with her?"

Sylar chuckled, brushing his thumb along his strong jawline, feeling his heart race at the thought. "Come, Noah, must you be so crass? It's called love-making and no. She's not that kind of girl."

"But you ARE that kind of boy. Don't think I didn't see you with Elle before that second eclipse. If you hadn't already killed her father, he would have killed you."

"Oh you know me, Noah, always plan ahead. Yes, I am, and I'm ready, but she's delicate, and worth waiting for...... besides you know how I love to have my imagination teased. The anticipation........ can be exquisite."

Noah felt his stomach writhe, thoroughly creeped out, and his voice was wildly unenthused. "Well..... lucky her. I suppose third time's a charm."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know EXACTLY what I mean. You're a literal lady killer, first Maya, then Elle, and now your new victim, Lovely Miss Ally."

Sylar rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Maya was a means to an end, and last time I checked still very much alive, I might add. The whole seduction was a ruse, and I didn't even have my powers then."

"Which didn't stop you from putting a bullet in her chest if I remember correctly."

"Insurance. If I hadn't, there would have been no way to know if Mohinder was giving me the right vial. I needed my powers back. And Elle....... Elle was your fault."

"Alright. I'll give you that one."

"Although........ I should thank you, really. If you and Elle hadn't pulled your messed up little stunt, I never would have become Sylar. You created me, Noah, and stopped poor Gabriel from killing himself."

"Like Frankenstein's Monster. There's not a day that goes by that I don't regret that. I should have let you hang yourself."

"Oh Elle....... If she hadn't used me, manipulated me, and outright lied to me about my parents, we might have worked. I think of her every time I'm electrocuting the life out of some poor soul......." He flipped his wrist, smiling fondly, and Noah could hear the crackle of blue lightning. "Oh yes, Elle's parting gift. It's funny...... at first, my little brunette seemed too good to be true as well. I threw her against the wall because I thought she was working for you. Fool me twice......"

"If I could have possibly known the hold she'd have on you, the unsettling fascination you'd have for her, she would be. Honestly, I imagined your taste in women much more malevolent. Nobody thinks the serial killer's going to fall for the girl scout. It sounds like a bad slasher flick. But then again..... what is it you call yourself? Sylar, The Great Defiler?"

"A lot of people call me that."

"No, it's just you. You make them good girls go bad, huh? Or is it opposites attract and all that?"

"Who says it can't be both? I just find it so sexy that the same girl and boy that always stayed in, unnoticed, unimportant, and spent every single night of their lives alone, are now the two most powerful beings in this world. Just warms ya up, doesn't it? I own the night now, Noah. And I own Ally.

"Not right now, you don't. You may have her fooled, with your tortured soul, misunderstood, all-I-need-is-love act, but as usual I see right through you. She's nothing but your next casualty. She belongs to The Company now, where her powers can be used for good, and not shielding worthless scum like you.

"Before you get too excited, Noah, about using her and get these grand delusions of invincible armies, allow me to enlighten you. "It won't work if you try to force her. She has to do it willingly. She has to want to do it. And she only has enough power to surround one person at a time."

"How the hell did you get her to do it for you that first time, then?"

"Hmmm.....It's killing you isn't it? I can't decide if it was my sexy eyebrows or my annihilating smile that convinced her. Huh. Probably both. You see, she has a thing for bad boys. And as it so happens, I have a thing for good girls. Especially when they have that little something extra y'know?

"Or much more likely, she showed you out of pure desperation so that you wouldn't kill her that first encounter. That's one to tell the grandkids."

"Yeah," Sylar smiled softly, remembering. She'd been so brave and instantly drawn to him, so willing and gentle. "That too...... God she's so clever. The moment she touched my chest, and I felt that inexplicable power pulsing through my veins, what can I say? She had me.

"And her little spell lasts about two hours doesn't it?"

Noah heard Sylar go dangerously silent on the other line. His breathing getting quiet, deadly.

"Yeah, that's right, I know about that too. Two hours, and it's been, what do you think, at least nine since your last power up?"

"Isn't that fortunate?" Sylar practically hissed, his snarky tone turning again cold and vicious. "You might actually have a fighting chance..... for once, Noah. Or at least a few hours longer than you deserve to live....... Well, it's been swell chatting, Bennet, but I'm bored. This is your last chance. Are you going to give me what's mine, or do we get to do this the fun way?

"You don't even know where I am, Gabriel. You'll never find her."

"I don't? You sure about that, Noah?"

A loud bang came from inside the closet and Sylar twitched like a predator that hadn't yet been fed.

"I know when you're bluffing, and I know when you don't know what the hell you're doing."

"Fun way it is. It's a good night to die, Noah. See ya in a few."

Sylar hung up, and Noah slowly lowered his phone. "Yes, Gabriel, it is."

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

#sylar #heroes #gabriel gray #noah bennet #peter petrelli #matt parkman #primatech #claire bennet #sylar x oc #angel before the fall

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dukeofriven · 5 years

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[Note: this post originally appeared in this thread. Owning to Tumblr’s inability to update reblogs with edits because it is a hellsite programmed by a secretive cell of former Stasi operatives to avenge the fall of East Germany, it has thus been re-edited and reformatted here for your reading pleasure.] JK Rowling’s wizards are the most useless, lazy, incapable dumbfucks in the history of fiction. The average Muggle? You take away their technology and they would be able to complete the basic tasks of feeding and clothing themselves without shitting on the floor. If a wizard ever lost their magic in Harry Potter, though, they would die. They’d be dead in three days. They’re garbage and I hate that I’ve come to hate Harry Potter - a series I once loved - because an author inexplicably hailed for her world-building is daily revealed to be appallingly bad at it. I realize this is a really dumb thing to be this angry about but I’ve been told for years what a great world-builder J.K. Rowling is, and that was not even true when the books were coming out. The Time Turner ruined all of Harry Potter forever, not because it offers easy time travel you can hold in your hand (although it does), not because you ask ‘why don’t they just use the time turner’ with every subsequent scenario forever (although you do), but because it was an enormous, flashing red light warning everyone that the series was going to attempt to make the transition from Fairy Tale Logic to Serious Fiction logic and fail. Badly. Really, really badly. I still think Harry Potter & The Philosopher’s Stone is an almost perfect book: a distillation of decades of boarding school genre fiction combined with magic, friendship, and wonder. It is a book that owes as much to Enid Blyton and L.M. Boston as it does to C.S. Lewis or T.H. White and other authors with two first initials. Its sense of place is magisterial, from the frumpy, soul-crushing suburban sadness of Privet Drive to the ephemeral curio-shop wonderland of Diagon Alley to Hogwarts itself, a bastion of astonishment, homeliness, and delight. What it isn’t is the sort of framework on which you can support the horror that is the torture and murder of Charity Burbage in front of her colleague Severus Snape, who could not rescue her because he could not break his deep cover as a spy against Wizard Hitler 2. Long-running series can experience changes of tone and complexity. This is neither something laudable nor worth reviling; it’s a neutral phenomenon. Sometimes series do it well: Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising and Terry Pratchett’s Discworld are both series that by-and-large end with books focused on far more complex issues than their earlier entries. TV series do this too: contrast the early episodes of Steven Universe or Adventure Time with episodes from later seasons. With Adventure Time, for example, trying jumping from the pilot to Remember You and see how hard you get tonal whiplash) Lois McMaster Bujold sublime space opera The Vorkosigan Saga doesn’t just change tones but also genre: space adventure, murder mystery, political thriller, goofy regency romance, comedy of errors, heist movie, schizoid identity crisis - on and on. The latest entry in the series has almost no plot to speak of, but is instead a musing on age, gender roles, grieving the loss of a lover, and the hope of new life. Some series, however, manage the transition poorly, largely because the initial tone cannot be harmonized with the later tone (Mass Effect jumps immediately to mind). But Harry Potter has more than just a problem of its tone getting darker: its trying to have darker events fit in the same world in which people can walk around with names like ‘Mundungus,’ the Hogwarts school song can be a nonsense poem, and the Philosopher’s Stone was defended with a series of video game puzzles. In a world in which the villain openly tortures somebody to death, the Philosopher’s Stone shouldn’t have any whimisical bullshit about its magical defences: it should have trip mines in the floor and an enchanted statue with a gun, because Voldermort isn’t a guy you confound with drinking potions and flying keys. You should just kill him. The charming fairy world of wonder of HP & The Philosopher’s Stone has room for a love potion. The later books, in which it is revealed that Voldemort was essentially born from rape, is not place where Ron Weasley can hand-out a book to Harry called Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches without seeming like a predator in the making. The cradle that is The Philosopher’s Stone cannot hold a beastly baby like Deathly Hallows any more than Grindlewald pontificating about the superiority of wizards can sit comfortably in a universe in which wizards took until the 18th century to accept the outhouse! Not that fascist ravings are inherently logical; but even non-fascists in Harry Potter never act like wizards are anything other than 100% better than muggles at all times. They can’t, because if the series were ever to do that it would have to acknowledge that the two worlds are different: neither better, just different. Instead - well, as Ron once bitched, magic makes coffee perfect every time, so it’s not clear how muggles stand being alive and don’t just roll-over and die from the hellacious half-life that is living with imperfect coffee. This has nothing to do with irony, a suggestion that ‘oh Grindewald talks a big game about wizardly superiority but wizards didn’t use toilets and cal themselves goofy names like Flumpus MacFludgeon: Rowling is using dramatic ironic to lampshade how wizard supremacy lacks self-awareness. No: this is about a world that is silly being asked to host a genocidal dictator and his crimes. It’s like those tedious ‘grimdark’ AUs that always show up in bad fanfiction by authors attempting to be serious: what if the Sesame Street gang had to deal with ICE, what if Po started haemoraging while hanging-out with Laa-Laa, what if Peppa Pig learned that she was adopted and her real parents were brutally murdered as part of gang war because they were heroin dealers and so on. (The best skewering of this edgelord comedy is still probably either Andrew Hussie’s Muppet Babies/Saw comic or any encounters the Shortpacked staff ever had with the Transformers: Buckets of Blood guy.) In Harry Potter, Rowling built a wonderful little fantasy world that ran happily on the logic of fairy tales and fairy stories, and then decided she was never going to be taken seriously as an author unless she introduced Hitler to the equation. And it never works for her. It’s not like it couldn’t have worked. The Lord of the Rings is famously a very different book from The Hobbit. It did, in fact, introduce Hitler into a little fantasy world but Tolkien made it work by abandoning huge portions of the Hobbit’s tone, style, and structure: he wrote a completely different book. Frodo isn’t scarfing-down Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans on the slopes of Mount Doom. The moment, say, Cedric Diggory lay dead in Harry’s arms, we needed to never meet Mundungus Fletcher ever again, or Weasley’s Gooftacular Prank Nonsense, or Ron getting Harry a book about love spells. All the very least that needed to go away, at least until the very end, because Rowling is not an author with the skill to keep the silly and the sublime on the same page. That’s fine in and of itself: all artistic people have strengths and weakness, nobody is skilled at every element of creation. J.M. Barrie was very good at writing a book about an eternal child, but a bit crap at writing a biography about his mother. Arthur Sullivan spent his life quietly seething no one wanted to listen to Ivanhoe instead of The Mikado. There’s a reason Jerry Lewis never released The Day the Clown Cried. Virginia Wolfe is a great writer, but that doesn’t mean she would have written a great run on She-Hulk. [Although now that I’ve said it I can’t think of anything I want to read more.] There’s a great bit in the Lord of Rings after the Shire has been scoured of Saruman where the Hobbits essentially open-up their larders and allow people to have fun again; there’s also a nice bit slightly earlier where Great King Aragorn puts on his old Strider clothes just so he can be his D&D character again: when series change tone, unless you’re really good at walking on a knife’s edge, the quieter, gentler, lighter world isn’t gone forever, but it does have to go away for a while: which means its time to tamp-down on the people with silly names and personalities - like Slughorn, who slips into book six like the second-coming of the vain and silly Lockhart, even though that’s the book where Dumbledore dies.

Rowling keeps trying to makes her old tone fit with her new world without having to pull a Tolkien and actually write differently, which produces moment after moment of tonal whiplash in which the latest Potter-related movie literally involves referencing the holocaust but she also drops some fun trivia about wizards shitting on the floor like animals. (You could describe the entirety of the first Fantastic Beasts film as Tonal Whiplash: The Motion Picture. I’d say that’s an essay for another day but I do not want to have to watch that movie again.)

It needs to be said that a primary reason these tone shifts ‘don’t work’ for Harry Potter is that the logic of a fairy tale is different than the logic of a mundane story. The logic of a fairy tale tends to be self contained: it doesn’t have a smart ass running around asking questions like ‘why’ because there is no why; a thing is the way it is because it is the way it is. Fairies steal babies on the third Sunday of every month, and nobody in the story asks ‘well what about in countries that use different calendars, and what about the shift from Julian to the Gregorian calendar that skipped eleven days?’ because such a pedantic question has no substance in a fairy-tale world. The Clever Child might question what the fairies need with babies, but she’s not about to break-down the week-to-week investment metrics on the Fairyland Infant Exchange. It’s not that one cannot critique or bring critical thinking to fairy stories; it’s that in a fairy story you don’t ask how the sewer system works because it’s not pertinent to what the story is trying to convey. It’s being the guy at the book club who is mad nobody wants to discuss his theories on the music of Rush: its not that the theories are bad, it’s that in this time and place they are of limited relevance. Harry Potter, however, does not belong to to the world of fairy stories, but to the legacy of Tolkienesque fantasy - the world of

In The Hobbit nobody would ever ask if Hobbiton had sewers - it’s not important, and if you ask those kind of questions expecting there to be a serious answer of grave import you’re being a twit. Lord of the Rings, though? Not only is it a valid question, but Tolkien probably wrote a paper explaining the etymology of the Westron word for ‘sewer’ and how sewers were first invented by Shítlívær the Noldor as a way of helping the Blessed Isles cope with all the crap that tumbled out of Fëanor’s mouth.

The world of The Hobbit is one you could enter and expect to quickly find yourself on an adventure. The world of The Lord of The Rings is one you could enter, walk-about, and study without anyone ever exepecting you to solve some sort of regionally-disturbing social problem: in short, it wants you to be invested in the existence of its world in a different way than The Hobbit. Even then, although The Lord of the Rings is more grounded than The Hobbit, it is not so grounded that it doesn’t leave room for mystery, and questions that refute Wittgenstein’s assertion that all questions must be answerable. Tolkien loved to create complex worlds, but there was stuff he knew wasn’t worth elaborating on. It’s really his fans and authorial heirs who developed the somewhat worrying belief that a good worldbuilder has to have an answer to literally every question or else didn’t think their world through. (This has killed more potentially good books than bad cover art ever has.)

The Lord of the Rings leaves room for The Undiscovered Country. Harry Potter wants too… but can’t. Firstly, Rowling obviously understands the need for what we might call poetic mystery - like the gateway in the somewhat unsubtly name Department of Mysteries - but she also wants you to know how wizards pooped three hundred years ago. You get the feeling she knows exactly how and why that gate works, and what it is, but she withheld the knowledge because she likes mystery’s aesthetic more than she ascribes to any idea that an author might have lacunæ in the knowledge of their own work. That is, she would never put something into her work that she didn’t have an answer for - for her there is no undiscovered country that exists beyond the knowledge of even the author; she is an omniscient deity. Not for her is C.S. Lewis’ insistence that for her characters: All their life in this world and all their adventures had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before. Rowling knows exactly what happens to every one of them from the moment they were born to the moment the rot in the ground and the day-to-day schedules of their lives in heaven. Secondly - and far more of an issue - is that Harry Potter becomes a world that invites you to pick up each part of its structure and think about it, because the author has - with loving care - built that entire world for you to interact with. A place for everything, and everything its place. Except JK Rowling is a lazy thinker who never, ever considers the consequences of anything she says. Nagini is actually an Asian woman cursed to live as a snake, wizards used to magically disappear their shit from wherever they just stood and shat it out, Hermione Granger can have a time travel device to attended a bunch of classes but Harry can’t grab one off a nearby shelf and go back fifteen minutes and save his godfather, and nor a few years later can the Minister for Magic’s protection detail keep them on hand to go back half an hour and tell their past selves ‘Hey Voldemort is about to walk in here and kill y’all thought you ought to know.’ No author can work-out every aspect of every element in their works - that’s impossible, and why ARGs are solved by the internet hivemind in half a day even though they took a far smaller group of minds months to devise. But Rowling is intellectually lazy - she adds the holocaust to her Magic Fun Land without sparing a single moment to think that idea through. She then gets defensive when confronted by the suggestion that her worldbuilding might have been shallow. Hey your American wizard houses seem a bit racist also America doesn’t really use the house system in its schools - and her response was to lash out and not listen. Rowling tried to move Potter from a fairy logic world with its own rules into our world with our rules and our history but she doesn’t know our history very well, or even our rules, so she tells us wizards shat on the floor until the 18th century while the rest of us sit around going ‘but humans have never done that as social groups - even in horrible slums and facility-free prison cells humans create a designated place for taking a shit even if it’s just ‘that corner over there.’ We don’t just drop pants and go whenever!” This is because, as a worldbuilder, J.K. Rowling is actually kind of rubbish.

#Tumblr #J.K. Rowling #Harry Potter #Harry Potter and the philosopher’s stone #wizards #muggles #the wizarding world #Charity Burbage #Severus Snape #Voldemort #shit #time turner #Enid Blyton #L.M. Boston #C.S. Lewis #Hogwarts #long post

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