#i once got told my lamb was OOC. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 3 years ago

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"The good news is that no one’s going to do a lot of boo-hooing if you kill one. The bad news is, sometimes that’s not a solution."

(OOC: Once again, I have used one of your prompts to write a LONG and self-indulgent fan-fic. And it is dumb. Ever so dumb.)

Pyro gawked out at the small, pastel-colored creatures that surrounded them. They shouldn’t be moving, but they were.

“They’re obviously mechanical devices. Or else very small actors in suits. Either way, nothing of value will be lost,” Sebastian continued. “Maybe if we kill a few, the rest will get the message.”

“Will you be our friends?” The small, orange-furred bear asked again, stretching out its paws with a smile. If it was mechanical, it was a veryimpressive model, with a mouthful of teeth, and eyes wet and alive. It’s belly was white, with what appeared to be a picture of flowers dyed in.

“We can have lots and lots of fun in Care-a-lot! It’ll cheer you right up!” Another bear exclaimed, pink with a rainbow on it’s white belly.

“We’re not interested in your little amusement park or puppet show. Surely you can see we’re adults. Childless adults, with no intention of wasting money on whatever you’re selling. Run along now.”

“See? I told you they’d never be our friends!” said another bear. It folded blue-furred arms over a cloud symbol on its belly.

“Don’t give up, Grumpy!” exclaimed yet another bear. This one’s brown fur might almost look natural, if not for the red heart symbol on its torso. “They just need a little tenderness and caring!”

“It’s like a drug trip, ain’t it?” Pyro said to Shaw, not really bothering to whisper. A shocked gasp rippled went through the pastel animals.

“Drugs! Drugs are bad!” cried what appeared to be a purple racoon. “They are not a bright idea!”

“They’re dangerous!” trembled a pale green lamb.

“I don’t do drugs!” Pyro protested, not sure why he was bothering to justify himself to what might possibly be Chucky-esque demonically possessed toys. “Well, nothing hard, anyway,” he added in response to Sebastian’s snort.

“Pyro definitely has a drug problem. You should help him,” Sebastian said, smirking.

“Fuck off, Shaw!” Another gasp from the bears.

“That’s a no-no word!”

“He needs a friend!”

Pyro was losing track of what horrid little pastel nightmare the high-pitched voices were coming out of, but they were starting to advance on him.

“Oh no, he’s the one who needs a friend!” Pyro said, pointing at Sebastian rather desperately. “His heart is made of stone! No feelings at all!”

“No feelings?” said a green-furred bear. “Everyone’s got feelings, they just have to find them. Maybe we can turn his luck around!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Allerdyce,” Sebastian groused as the bears turned towards him. “Must you? Look, we’re not buying whatever you’re selling with this…this….performance art. Why don’t you go get real jobs?”

Bright tinkling music from no discernable source began to play, and the bears pranced from side to side, circling around Sebastian.

“Everyone has feelings, I bet you have feelings, too!” The bears sang. Pyro realized, with a faint sense of nausea, that the rocks and trees of the Lisa Frank hellscape surrounding them were singing along, with happy, smiling faces. “Just look around, they’re not hard to find, they’re sitting right there inside yoooouuuu – “

The song ended suddenly as Sebastian punted one of the bears, who flew in an arc far across the horizon.

“Bedtime bear!”

“That was mean!”

“No, it was self-defense, against your assault on my ears, common sense, and basic decency.” Sebastian was brushing off his pant leg and shoe, as if it had been somehow dirtied.

“Gosh Mr. Sebastian, you really are mean,” said a pink elephant. “Is it because the only woman you ever loved died right in front of you? You must have lots and lots of sad feelings about that!”

“WHAT?!” Sebastian was suddenly standing up very straight, hands clenched into fists. Pyro felt a chill run though him. This wasn’t funny anymore.

“We can see inside your heart, Mr. Sebastian,” said the brown-furred bear. “We can see all the sadness in there. Just like we know Mr. St. John is afraid people will reject him, just like his parents and his granny did.”

“Okay, what the fuck?” Pyro snapped.

“There’s that no no word again!” said a turquoise bear with a shooting star symbol. “I wish you’d watch your language.”

“He just uses naughty words because he doesn’t know how to express his anger,” said a panda with a rose on it’s stomach. “We can help him learn to be more polite!”

“Mastermind! It must be Mastermind,” Sebastian said. “Even Emma wouldn’t stoop to such childish tricks. Do you hear me, Wyngarde? Your ridiculous little game is over, now drop the illusion!”

“We’re not trying to trick you, Mr. Sebastian, we just want to be friends,” said a lilac penguin. “Don’t be so cold. We know there’s a cozy place in your heart, you just have to find it.”

The penguin squealed as Sebastian kicked it, far aloft and away.

“Enough, Wyngarde! I’ll not put up with this nonsense!” Sebastian yelled.

Meanwhile, Pyro realized with a jolt that some of the animals were approaching him again. A blue rabbit thing zipped and clung to his leg.

“He needs a hug!” It chirped. “Hurry up and help him open his heart to friendship!”

“That’s right, Mr. St. John,” said a lion-like creature, holding its arms out as it advanced. “Be brave enough to let yourself love again. We promise we won’t abandon you like Dominic abandoned you in Iraq.”

“Get away from me!” Pyro yelled, prying at the rabbit, which clung to him with a surprisingly strong grip.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was continuing to kick and punch at the furry creatures, whose soft bodies seemed largely unaffected.

“All your ambition will never fill the hole inside you, Mr. Sebastian,” said a yellow pig before it was punched to the ground.

“Sharing is cari-augh!” Another purple bear went flying.

Meanwhile, a monkey had leaped onto Pyro’s back, and he fell to the ground as the lion grabbed at his other leg.

“We love you, Mr. St. John!”

“Let friendship in!”

“Let us hug you! Hugs!”

More furry bodies piled on.

Meanwhile, the creatures around Sebastian were regrouping.

“This is tough one, guys,” said the brown bear. “I think it’s time for the Care Bear Stare!” The creature lined up, and suddenly bright colored light shot out of the symbols on their stomachs, striking Sebastian squarely in the chest.

Sebastian stood for a moment, his stern anger melting away and bringing an alien softness to his face. Pyro couldn’t see any more, as the pile of furry bodies covered him. God, there were so many! Grasping and squeezing at him, shrieking, “Hugs! Hugs! Hugs!” There was fur in his mouth, he could barely breathe.

Over the din, he could faintly hear Sebastian.

“My God, you’re right. You’re so right! All my life, I’ve closed my heart to love. I’ve put ambition over friendship. I’ve hurt so many…..Harry, Lourdes, my own dear boy Shinobi. Thank you little creatures, for opening my heart to let the sunshine in….”

“See? Open your heart and feel your feelings,” said a tiny voice in Pyro’s ear. He turned his head to see a flower with a face, smiling up at him.

Pyro screamed, and a fireball burst outwards from him, searing hot, burning away the lavender grass and horribly anthropomorphic flowers. There was a chorus tiny screams in his ear that quickly died away. Pyro lay gasping on the ground for a moment, before shakily sitting up.

The soft pastel world was now an ashy grey landscape, with the happy tree faces frozen in a rictus of pain and horror. Pyro was surrounded by a pile of small skeletons.

Sebastian was still standing a few feet away, clothing in burnt tatters, no longer being struck by the bright light. For a moment a look of deep sadness washed across his face, like a damned soul plucked from Heaven. Then, his shoulders slumped, and he heaved a deep sigh of unmistakable relief.

“Oh, thank God,” he muttered. Sebastian turned and offered a hand up to Pyro. “I’ve never said this before, and I’ll probably never say it again, but – well done, Allerdyce.”

There was a sound, and both Pyro and Sebastian looked over to see a black square, a door opening in the landscape. A young woman popped out dressed oddly like an old-school film usher, red cap on her short brown hair. She rushed over and began pacing in quick circles around them, gesturing wildly.

“Omigoshomigoshomigosh!!!” She babbled. “It’s a disaster! Family friendly fun gratuitous violence angry parents angry calls everything ruined not G-rated traumatized kiddies we’ll lose our jobs our careers our livelihoods everything is ruined scandal scandal scandal – urk!” She stopped abruptly, clutching at her chest, and collapsed on the ground, eyes wide and starring.

“Uh…..is she dead?” Pyro asked, poking at her with his foot. She didn’t move. Her tongue lolled theatrically out of her mouth.

“Does it really matter?” Sebastian responded.

“Don’t worry, she does that all the time. Excitable little thing,” said another voice. Pyro looked up to see a tall, gray-haired man emerging from the door, his expression much calmer. “Up you go, Minor-Domo.” He pulled the girl upright, and pressed something at the back of her neck, and she abruptly popped back up again.

“But what are we gonna do Major Domo?! They went off-script, he’ll be so angry!” The girl said, clinging to the man.

“Oh, so that’s what this is all about,” Sebastian exclaimed with a look of exasperated disgust. “Mojo. We’re in the blasted Mojoverse. Major Domo, tell your master that we have no time for his silly games.”

“Not games, programming!” said the girl. “Ratings star power serious business!”

“Wait, so this is all a TV show?” Pyro said, gesturing around. He was faintly familiar with the Mojoverse, although only what he’d heard in passing. He wondered if Spiral was anywhere around, and if she’d help out an old team-mate. Not likely.

“You are part of Mojo’s action-packed super-hero extravaganza,” said Major Domo, never raising his voice above a snide monotone. “Rejoice performers, for his favor shines upon you. And bear in mind how quickly the light of fame can fade.”

“So this was all just special effects, then,” Pyro said, gesturing to landscape, and the horrid little piles of charred bones everywhere. “These were just robots, right?”

“Oh no, nothing so valuable as an android, thankfully,” said Major Domo. “These were just lab-grown living bio-constructs who are genetically programmed to love you unconditionally. We’ll make more.”

“Oh. So, uh…..they’re probably not capable of feeling pain, right?”

“On the contrary,” Major Domo responded, tapping at an I-pad-like device in one hand. “We doubled their pain receptor sensitivity to up their empathy levels. In fact, based on our sensor readings, they spent their last moments of existence experiencing 20% agony, 20% fear, and 60% sadness that they could no longer hug you as their little arms crumbled to ash. Hmm, interesting. We’ll take note of those numbers for the next batch.”

“No one cares,” said Sebastian. “We are not slaves to the Mojoverse, we’ve signed no contracts. I can respect your master’s business sense, but we won’t tolerate this disgraceful treatment.”

“Ah, you want to negotiate terms?” Major Domo raised an eyebrow. “Well, we need to reboot the whole series anyway, since this program is obviously a bust. But a bust with…surprisingly high ratings, I must say.”

“Yes, take us to Mojo. Let’s talk business,” Sebastian smirked. There was a flahs of light, and suddenly the four of them were in what appeared to be a central control base, with complicated panels of dials and lights, and massive TV monitors broadcasting video feed all over the walls.

Pyro was ready for the sight of Mojo, pale and slug-like, eyes permanently hooked open and mouth stretch in a horrible grin. He was not ready for the smell. He gagged and swallowed bile.

“Mojo, you’ve no legal right to keep us here,” Sebastian began. “I demand you return us to Earth at once.”

“No legal right?” The creature cackled. “Don’t flatter yourself! You’re just on a trial run, baby! Work for exposure, all eyes on you! Like and subscribe! See the views go up and up and up! If you can pull in the viewership, then we’ll talk about a contract! You should feel lucky for this chance for a big big break!”

“Enough nonsense! We’re not going to participate in this, and we’ll fight our way out, if need be.”

Sebastian raised a fist. Pyro did the same, letting a warm little ball of flame rest in his palm.

“You dare to raise a hand to Mojo, your magnificent benefactor of stardom riches attention?! I’ll broadcast your executions live!” Mojo screamed, jiggling with rage.

“More importantly, violence won’t rescue your friends, will it?” Major Domo put in. “They have also been granted a chance to participate in Mojo’s glorious programming, and you’ll never find them on your own. If you want to be reunited, I’d think about signing a contract. Maybe we can find an ensemble show for you.” He gestured at the monitors.

On one view screen, Maddie and Claudine were perched on a rooftop. Maddie swung a gore-covered chainsaw at the zombie hordes that climbed up towards them, while Claudine took expert, carefully aimed shots with a rifle.

“Come and get me, you demon bastards!” Maddie was yelling, red hair whipping wildly around her face. “You’re not dragging me back to hell! I own you all!”

“Weird. That one was supposed to be a sitcom,” Mojo muttered. He turned and pointed at a different screen. “That’sthe one that was supposed to be a horror flick!”

On the view screen, college-aged youths of varying degrees of hotness were gathered around a campfire, with one large, hulking figure in a hocky mask crouched among them. Next to him, Haven was strumming a guitar, leading the crowd in a folk song. The masked figure was clapping along, singing incomprensibly, with a machete forgotten at his feet.

Shinobi wandered on screen holding a pitcher, with his arm around a black robed figure in a white Scream mask.

“We made more magaritas!” A cheer went up from the campfire.

“None of you are playing the roles properly!” Mojo exclaimed. “Such prima donnas! Creative control is for the executives!”

“But, your Corpulent Excellency, the ratings are through the roof,” Major Domo pointed out, showing him the numbers. “People like the unexpected twists.”

On one monitor, Maddie was chain-sawing the head off a zombified Kramer. On the other, Haven was helping the bulky figure lift up his hockey mask to eat s’mores.

“Hmmm, yes….but where will we go when the shock value wears off? Everything must be fresh fresh fresh!” Mojo declared. “Time for another reboot!”

Another flash of light, and suddenly Madelyn, Claudine, Shinobi and Haven winked into existence in the control room.

“This time, we’ll split them up! That’ll make them behave! Double the programs double the ratings double the fun!” Mojo declared. He began pointing at each of them in turn.

“You, a gothic soap opera! You’re the ravishing red-head with a mysterious past!”

“You, Vampire Diaries!” This to Claudine.

“You, one of those Super-Sentai giant robot shows.” He pointed at Shinobi.

“That’s racist,” Shinobi protested.

“Yeah, it really is,” Pyro agreed.

“You, wonders of the Outback! Aussie bush explorer!” Mojo declared, gesturing at Pyro.

“Ugh, not that Steve Irwin Crocodile Dundee bullshit!” Pyro snapped. Although admittedly spending time with animals didn’t sound bad, Mojo would turn it into a twisted nightmare. “At least let me be on the Gothic soap opera.”

“You, Baywatch!” Mojo pointed at Sebastian without skipping a beat. “Let’s see you rip that shirt off and show those rippling muscles!”

“I’ll not save a single person,” Sebastian declared. “I’ll stand on the beach and watch them drown.”

“And you – Bollywood! Singing and dancing and saris, oh my!” Mojo pointed at Haven.

“That’s racist!” Shinobi and Pyro both exclaimed at once.

“None of us are going to do any of that!” Madelyn said. She lifted the chainsaw. “Have you noticed you’re outnumbered? Your little robots can’t save you.”

Pyro noticed that Major Domo had discreetly stepped far back, with Minor Domo hiding behind him.

“Yes, Mojo, you’ve lost all your leverage by reuniting us,” Sebastian agreed. “Now I suggest you let us go or face the consequences. You may have noticed, Allderyce here is especially violent and unhinged.”

Pyro didn’t bother feeling insulted, instead he gave his nastiest grin and manifested a flaming skeleton to loom over Mojo. It honestly would feel good to barbeque that slimy creature, but maybe he’d let Maddie get a few hits in first.”

“Wait wait wait my lovelies!” Mojo screamed. “What about transport? You’re in the Mojoverse, baby, there’s no escape! No escape except a contract! Kill me and you’ll be stuck here forever. Sign a contract and I’ll very generously let you go after a mere fifty years service!”

The group paused to look at each other.

“You know, we could probably just steal a spaceship,” Pyro said.

“Yes, but we’re in a completely different dimension,” Maddie put in.

“That’s not an insurmountable problem,” Claudine said. “I’m sure I can make modifications to whatever transport we find.”

“Maybe we could just talk this over?” Haven suggested.

“Enough!” Sebastian’s voice cut across the conversation. “I will not spend another second on this ridiculous circus of a world. We are not going to sign any contracts, Mojo. You will send us back to Earth immediately.”

“Stars don’t make demands, lovelies!” Mojo said. “Who do you think you are, directors? Producers? Oh no I think not!”

“I think so,” Sebastian said. “Or we’ll unleash one of the most powerful forces of the American legal system. Copyright law.”

“Copyright?” Mojo laughed. “There’s no copyright in the Mojoverse, baby!”

“I think you underestimate the reach of certain companies. Disney, for example, would have a great deal to say about that ‘Shatterstar vs. the Forces of Evil’ cartoon you’re running.” Sebastian pointed at a monitor.

“You can’t intimidate me, darlings! I’m Mojo! I rule this world and the airwaves! I am your broadcast god!”

“And yet, you operate in a capitalistic world of contracts and bureaucracy,” Sebastian continued, undeterred. “The contracts wouldn’t exist if there wasn’t some legal system in this place. And all of your broadcast programming could be affected. I believe those horrid little pastel monsters you placed me with belong to American Greetings. Jason Vorhees, New Line Cinema. Seinfeld, NBC. All I have to do is make a few calls,” Sebastian held up his cell phone. “And this place will be swarming with lawyers.”

“Don’t you dare threaten me with lawyers!” Mojo quivered, but with anger or fear? It was hard to tell.

“Imagine all your programs shut down by a cease and desist! No more Hellfire’s Kitchen, no more Real Housewives of Attilan, no more Summers Brothers Comedy Hour. I have access to the finest legal team in the world, Mojo, and I will unleash their full power upon you to avenge this humiliation you’ve inflicted upon me and my son. I will shut down your entire programming line-up of derivative, brainless pablum.”

“They’re….they’re homages! Parodies! Fair use!” Mojo exclaimed. He glanced over at Major Domo, who shrugged.

“Maybe best to let them go, sir. Sounds like this batch of stars is more trouble than they’re worth. Besides,” he leaned in close enough that Pyro barely caught the last words. “We’ve got their genetic material There’s always cloning.”

“Ugh, fine!” Mojo yelled, throwing his arms up. “Consider yourselves blackballed, you ungrateful divas! You’ll never work in this dimension again!”

There was another flash of light, and suddenly the entire group found themselves back aboard the Marauder, sprawled on the deck.

Everyone gradually picked themselves up. Claudine and Madelyn were covered in blood, Maddie somehow still clutching the chainsaw like a grotesque souvenir. Shinobi was holding a toasted marshmallow on a stick, but quickly popped it into his mouth, while Haven pulled leaves from her long hair. Pyro realized, looking down at himself, that his uniform was covered in little scorched bits of pastel fur.

“Well,” said Sebastian in a brisk tone. “Let’s never speak of this again.”

#alt-marauders #pyro #st john allerdyce #sebastian shaw #really this is so stupid #self-indulgent crack-fic

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aveline-amelia · 1 year ago

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I think the death thing was about Moriarty. There is an excellent video essay I will try and find about how Sherlock trivialised death.

They never fully explained how Sherlock survived.

They teased Moriarty being alive even as far as the s4 closing credits.

They killed Mary and then had her be present in the other two episodes both as a ghost and through video messages.

A bunch of people believed Mary wasn't really dead despite the fact we saw her die and it wasn't just people who were unsatisfied with her ending or the circumstances of her death, they just thought they wouldn't commit to killing her off.

They hinted in TAB that Moriarty's body was never recovered and then the writers said they believed Doyle was always going to bring back Holmes because his body was never recovered.

People are still debating which TAB scenes in the modern day were real and if any were.

The Final Problem broke the show's own rules.

Mycroft is willing to swordfight a clown and shoot him with a gun hidden in his umbrella not even questioning why there is a goddamn clown in his house. Also that image of grinning Fisherman Mycroft.

Mycroft sees a grenade that he knows is motion-activated and only warns the others once they have already moved. And that is coming from me, the number one person defending the way Mycroft was written in TFP from people saying he was OOC.

Sherlock and John hurl themselves out of a second story window and "boop and they're fine".

Mycroft somehow got himself and Mrs Hudson out of the house in a couple seconds, after having to get up a flight of stairs and they are both uninjured. They even lampshade this by having Sir Edwin lie about Mycroft being in critical condition.

The skull somehow survives the explosion despite the fact that bones disintegrate when burned.

Eurus put a dog bowl with the name Redbeard in the room when she had no idea that Sherlock remembered Victor as a dog.

There are bleeding paintings.

John's feet are chained to the well but he gets out using a rope.

Eurus shoots John clearly using a real gun but they changed it to a tranquilizer when there was no reason for her to shoot him in the first place other than for a cliffhanger.

And then there is the fact the show closes by saying who Sherlock and John really are doesn't matter after having an entire good-to-great-man arc for Sherlock.

Etc etc.

The Final Problem was so unbelievable people thought it was made as a joke. It didn't help that it was leaked a day early via a Russian website, that the writers advertised the leak instead of trying to take it down when people's entire blogs were taken down for leaking a promo image too early or messaging HLV spoilers. People were laughing about how bad TFP was when they believed it was a troll episode.

One can like TFP. One can believe it was a good finale and a great episode. Moffat and Gatiss explained they meant the episode to be full of transgressions. And it's their show. They can do what they like. But as a storyteller, you have a responsibility to your audience.

You can't start off as a detective story with some British humor thrown in and end up with Saw Shutter Island The Ring Silence of The Lambs Hanging Garridebs Secret Sister.

You can and they obviously have, but Eurus was a retcon. They only thought of her in S3. The Holmes parents were also only S3. Originally they were going to have the Holmes family torn apart because Sherlock deduced his father was having an affair.

Redbeard was originally a dog and the Holmes brothers' phone call was about how their parents told Sherlock the dog went to live on a farm and Mycroft teased him for that.

Hell, there is a video out there of Steven Moffat claiming if you focus on Sherlock's backstop you are doing something wrong.

For some context, I got one of my first expressions from the Sherlock Is Garbage video by HBomb. (Not the first one ever, I watched Elementary first with no knowledge of ACD, then I saw an out-of-context clip for that Moriarty/Sherlock scene). So I went into this show expecting to like it, but think it's not that clever. And I was impressed.

There were some hints and subtext I noticed that no one else did. There is one scene I read completely differently than anyone else.

I love this show. It made me. It saved me. I was not the same person from back before I watched it.

It helped me accept a very dark part of myself that I spent years suppressing and realizing my increasing anxiety was not going to be better until I learned to love all of me. Only then could I truly be free.

And I got sidetracked again, sorry. This is all my opinion.

i have like. a lot to say about why sherlock failed as t.v. show bc i think as a writer it’s a really crucial study in how to ruin a good premise/beginning and tbh if not to just … study how not to handle characters it’s pretty fascinating bc there are some truths which i feel it’s necessary to point out:

nobody likes to feel cheated at the end of the story.

death only matters if it’s forever and it’s rare.

on that note, there should be consequences for actions.

trust your characters to be interesting without unnecessary drama.

throwing plot at your characters feels less real than having their desires make them walk fully into the glass door of plot

if you’re going to make one of your characters “a sociopath” or disabled with ptsd or any other mental or physical illness, do extensive research into the personal experiences of those who suffer it and handle it with gravitas; don’t just vanish a character’s disability because it’s inconvenient to have them use a cane etc.

when there’s a good plot twist with nice foreshadowing, the audience loves it. when there’s just always plot twists, the author loves plot twists more than his own story.

surprise isn’t always a good thing.

“it was all a dream/joke/mirage/spell” is literally the weakest form of writing yourself out of a corner and is incredibly annoying to read/watch

queerbaiting is ugly

ride rollercoasters, not a broken elevator. have some stretches between plunges. your story can speed ahead and stay interesting without diving into hell again.

having a Big Bad Evil doesn’t make the story interesting; in fact having “monster of the week” problems feels more authentic and enjoyable

write your women like people and let them have plots that have nothing to do with men.

just because you’re good doesn’t mean that you are above critique or getting better. you should always be challenging yourself to outdo your previous self, not resting on the laurels of a previously effective moment

characters don’t have to be overpowered to be interesting

if a character’s emotions all exist on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the most emotion that an emotion can be (the saddest/angriest/broodiest), do not let that character hit a 10 until you are ready to be done with them forever

when you are done with them forever, be done

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