#just picture me pointing a a mess of a conspiracy board

[direwombat]

tagged by @natesofrellis​ and @socially-awkward-skeleton​

and taggin forward: @thomrainer​​, @strangefable​​, @purplehairsecretlair​​, @adelaidedrubman​​, @strafethesesinners​​, @confidentandgood​​, @noetikat​​, @aceghosts​​, @funkypoacher​​, @harmonyowl​​, @deputyash​​, @sstewyhosseini​​, and anyone else who wants to share some of their wips before the ball drops on 2023!

the writing has been slow this uh...whole month...but here’s a rough start of syb’s canonical storyline! 

[Sybille] stares at the tangled mess of a conspiracy that she supposes may not be so conspiratorial after the goddamned bitch of a night she just had. Newspaper clippings, photographs, scrawled notes that she might have once disregarded as the rambling of a madman all pinned up on a cork-board, all connected by red string. Somehow, Dutch had managed to tie together events, found the common threads that ultimately led back to the Seeds. Succeeded in piecing the puzzle together where the Sheriff’s Department had failed.

The signs were right there, staring them right in the face. Why hadn’t they acted sooner?

“Christ,” she sighs. Dutch comes to stand next to her, handing her a cup of coffee, which she gratefully takes. The ceramic mug is the first warm thing she’s felt since being pulled out of the river. She cradles it in her hands, shivering as the heat slowly works its way from her fingers to the rest of her body. “How did we miss all this?”

“Peggies ain’t exactly trusting people,” Dutch shrugs. “They kept most of this under wraps for years. They were careful. Moved slow until suddenly they metastasized like a fuckin’ cancer. And now that this “Reaping” as Joseph calls it has started, shit’s only gonna get worse.”

Sybille’s jaw clenches, not taking her eyes off the pictures of the family who fucked the whole county. “Let me guess: you want me to be the surgeon in this metaphor.”

“We need as many able-bodied people as we can if we want to stand a chance against the Cult. Being a good shot is a bonus.”

She turns her head to look at him, her eyes narrowed. “You need a soldier,” she says plainly. She’s more than familiar with the speeches. So many commanding officers have touted the need to band together against a common enemy -- protect your country -- when what they really mean is that she and her brothers and sisters in arms need to kill so other people don’t need to. She’s made her peace with the grim reality of the blood on her hands. There’s no need to pussyfoot around it. 

She’s being asked to kill again. The war she had been so gracelessly kicked out of seems to have followed her back home. And not in the way it does most who make it out. 

Dutch gives her a sympathetic smile. She may not be wearing the fatigues anymore, but the look of a soldier is unmistakable. She carries it with her wherever she goes. It’s in the set of her jaw and square of her shoulders. It’s in the way she needs to have a visual on all entrance and egress points and how her eyes instinctively track every subtle movement, even the ones that aren’t really there.

“We need more than that, Dep,” Dutch says. “We need a leader.”

She really shouldn’t laugh, but the irony is nigh unbearable. Promoted to Staff Sergeant only to be sent home and find herself as the Junior Deputy. The Rookie. “Your confidence in me, while deeply unfounded, is appreciated,” she says. “But all I want is to find my brother.”

Please. Please let Augustine be alright.

“Then odds are he’s caught in this shit too.” Dutch sighs. “Look, I ain’t gonna make you do anything you don’t want to, but I think you know that your best chance at finding your brother is by helping the people of the county. Someone’s bound to have seen him.”

She turns back to the conspiracy board and drinks her coffee. Black and scalding, just how she likes it. Her eyes track the map underneath the mess of papers and photos, landing on the Whitetail Park’s Ranger’s Station. It’s where her brother was on duty last night. Hopefully he and his coworkers were able to pull together and hold their position. She knows he’s armed, at the very least, but guns meant to frighten off bears won’t mean shit against a fucking army.

Goddammit. Dutch is right, isn’t he?  

She sighs and gives him an appraising look. Prepper-type like him must have some weapons stashed somewhere in his bunker. Some of them might even be legally obtained. Not that it matters now. “I’m gonna need a gun.”

[watchyourdigits]

WIP Wednesday

(I'm not late, I'm just early for next week!!)

Thanks to the amazing @totally-not-deacon for tagging me in this! I finally have an excuse to share a very early rough draft of the Deacon-centric fic I'm working on.

This WIP (the first part of this chapter, anyway) came about because of the Pepe Silvia meme and the way I think about Deacon every time I see it. Oh, and the concepts presented in this video. "I'm in your corner. Always have been." etc. etc.

I'm a Deacon conspiracy theorist because that's what he would have wanted 🤟🏼😔 Anyway, here's the WIP (1.2k words-ish). I'd tag someone but I genuinely don't know who writes and who doesn't, so consider this an open invitation!!

Three Years Earlier

Deacon took a long drag of his cigarette as he stared at the mess of notes and pinned images on the corkboard before him.

Was it an unnecessary method of organization?

Of course.

Did it entertain him to no end?

Oh, most definitely.

Not only that, but it was a welcome distraction from any of the actual work he should have been doing. Things within the Railroad had been slow lately and it was making him antsy. When Deacon got antsy, nothing good came of it.

He'd set up his personal headquarters two years prior, but only recently had made any use of it. That, and the corkboard he'd sneakily "borrowed" from the Switchboard, had been proving useful in his latest project.

For the past year, he'd been researching dead-end leads (according to Dez, anyway) almost nonstop. He'd tried to explain vaguely to Her Highness what he'd been up to upon his most recent check-in with her, but she didn't seem very interested in his insightful wisdom. Typical.

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

Still, all of this work and nothing to show for it. He'd never admit she was right, but he had to wonder if his efforts were worth it in the long run.

Something was still missing… But what?

"Or who?"

Deacon's eyes widened as the lightbulb in his mind began flickering to life. It wasn't his strongest inclination, but it was there. He crushed out his cigarette in the overfull ashtray, standing quickly and moving to the board.

He shifted a few pins around and moved some of the papers in an effort to paint a clearer picture of heat he was dealing with.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad way to visualize his data after all.

There were many separate incidents and sightings involving the Institute, but they all seemed so tangentially related that he was almost convinced he'd imagined the connection in his head all along.

Almost.

Once satisfied with where he'd placed everything, he took a step back to admire his handiwork.

"Who are you?" he pondered aloud, lighting himself up another smoke as he thought deeply about the information before him.

He brought himself back to the first lead he'd gotten that had sent him on this wild goose chase to begin with.

The old man, demented in his age, would go on incessantly about some vault he'd found while exploring as a kid. His wife couldn't stand how obsessed with it he was. Deacon felt there must be a good reason for him to remember that above anything else. Like the birthdays of his three adult children. Or his own name, for that matter.

"Jenny," the elderly man said, pointing at nothing. "Jenny, look! They're taking a baby from that vault! I wonder if there's people down there?"

"That was well over fifty years ago, Richard. Give it a goddamn rest!"

Deacon almost missed that place - a small old folks home in one of the richer areas between the Capital and the Commonwealth. The amount of reconstructive surgery it had taken to get him back to looking like himself had him out of commission for a whole month. He shuddered a little at the thought.

Never again. Stick to prosthetics and really convincing makeup next time you go anywhere as a geriatric. Or just go as a caregiver instead… Dammit, Deacon, keep your head in the game. Think!

The experience itself had been one he didn't exactly cherish, but the stories he heard had been unbelievable.

Or so he thought.

When he'd asked Richard to tell him more about the vault, he had explained that he'd grown up near it and had seen a man and a woman leaving with a baby in tow. No one ever believed him, but he continued to swear up and down all these years later that he really had seen people leaving the vault.

It was only later than Deacon would connect the dots as to what vault he'd been referring to. It wasn't very far from his own HQ, only about a day's hike. Deacon had decided to set up a small camp there. At the time, he had wondered if perhaps there were people there that no one knew about. The area was rather deserted after all, save a Mr. Handy and some local wildlife.

No one knew much about the vault other than the old man, who croaked within a week of Deacon making his first inquiry.

For one reason or another, Deacon found himself fixated on the tale. A memory that strong had to mean something. He was determined to carry on Richard's legacy (obsession was perhaps more accurate) and prove everyone wrong in the process.

I hear you, Dick. Something isn't right about that vault. We'll show them, don't you worry.

He stared at the points on the board, contemplating them as if they were constellations in the sky and he was some ancient philosopher with the ability to divine a worldly truth from the heavens.

Except he was just an ordinary man, stuck out here rescuing synths from those who wished to exploit them. Yada, yada, yada.

The synths themselves had proven useful over the years. A handful of them were able to corroborate the theory that the Institute had a director. They called him 'Father'. An unimportant detail, of course, but it was always good to have a name for your enemy. It made hating them that much easier.

A lot of the sequences on the board didn't connect. Deacon was merely going off his gut instincts that these things were all correlated somehow.

He'd long since forgotten about his cigarette, only remembering it when it burned the tips of his fingers. He hissed, tossing it into the ashtray and bringing his hand to his mouth to suck on his wounds.

Another revelation struck him then as the pain began to fade into the background.

"Dick, you crazy son of a bitch!"

Deacon laughed to himself as he moved the write-up he had on Richard's mystery vault baby to the center of all the points. The image fell into place so clearly before him, he wasn't sure how it had taken him all these months to compose it.

"Well I'll be damned," he muttered, giving a low whistle at his own discovery.

The baby being 'Father' would only make sense. The vague timeline he'd pieced together from the beginning, with Richard's story, down to more recent information about the existence of 'Father' all slotted together effortlessly. The baby was taken from the vault and, within a year, there were reports of early third gen synths roaming the Commonwealth. Broken Mask was a prime example. An event that still had the people of Diamond City wringing their hands over the invisible boogeyman that was in the Institute.

These days, there was a noteworthy amount of buzz surrounding the vault again. None of the synths the Railroad had come across knew much about it, but the few that did speak of a 'buried treasure' provided all the more reason for Deacon to hold stock in his meticulously crafted theory.

Something was happening within the Institute, and that something most definitely involved the vault. After all this time, what remained in there that could possibly hold the interest of such an elusive, horrifying organization?

Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

Deacon gathered some supplies and readied himself to head out to his campsite for another stake-out. This time, he had a purpose for going aside from peaceful contemplation (and some private drinking).

This time, he was going to be doing actual research in the form of sitting around and waiting for something - or someone - to emerge from the vault.

[flowerflamestars]

Fix-it fic sneak peak

Silk- she could feel his damned voice on her skin- Eris’s words announced him before sight or scent did. “And why would you worry, baby brother? My choice in bride in exemplary.” She might never had have a brother, but Nesta had been gloriously difficult since birth.   So it was automatic to widen her eyes, to croon more fearful than adoring, “And my pick of suitors without peer.”   “As are you,” Eris sang back, eyes never once wavering from her face, even in the dip of his courtly bow. “And I will give you the stars for your hair, the moon to light your nights.”   Perfect, insane- how had she gotten here in a day?- Nesta couldn’t actually control her answering smile, half a snarl. “Only the moon? I’ll give you a heart steaming on a plate.”   He was breathing faster. Nearly invisible change, the sound oh so ferociously stifled, but Nesta heard it. Knew it. “And I you,” Eris told her, every word like a promise.   Lucien coughed.

[phoenixkaptain]

I think Tim is the cryptid of the superhero community. Hear me out:

In Young Justice, it’s explicitly stated multiple times that Tim Drake’s Robin has never been caught on film. There are no pictures or videos. Even earlier on, in World’s Finest Three, Tim gets Superboy to take all of the credit for taking down Metallo and Poison Ivy (something even the reporters find hard to believe) because Tim can’t let anyone know it was Robin.

Furthermore in Young Justice, the ongoing conflict between Robin and his team is that they find it hard to trust him because he can’t reveal his identity to them. But more than that, he can’t reveal his identity to anyone, he isn’t supposed to let anyone know that Robin even exists. There are fake “files” on all of the characters and even the government doesn’t know who the f Robin is, and the file questions whether or not he actually exists.

Then, there’s the part of the comics where Tim is forced to give up Robin, and Steph replaces him for a bit, and literally nobody outside of Gotham knows. He didn’t tell his friends, Bruce didn’t tell anyone, nobody knows that Tim isn’t Robin anymore. And then, he comes back. Just as out of the blue.

In the Red Robin run, it’s canon that nobody knows where Tim is aside from Ra’s al Ghul (who stalked him from the start and so shouldn’t count). Oracle doesn’t know where he is, none of his friends know (two of them are “dead,” so it’d be hard for them to know), everyone who runs into him is like “??? who tf???” Even Dick only has a vague idea. The whole point of Tam’s side plot is that it is nigh impossible to find Tim unless he decides to collapse onto your hotel room’s bed while bleeding out next to an assassin. As one does.

What does this mean?

It means that some superheroes definitely don’t believe that Tim exists, probably the younger ones. Superman or someone is like “Man, I miss the Robin that didn’t threaten me with swords,” and they’re like “Dick?” “No.” “Jason?” “No.” “??? The girl one?” “No.”

Like, some people have definitely never seen/heard of this weird third Robin, and they definitely think it’s something the older heroes are making up to mess with them. On conspiracy boards in Gotham, some people tell tale of the third Robin, the one that came before the Stabby Robin, and other people are like “You’re making this up! This guy doesn’t exist!”

I bet Duke is occasionally like “Hey, I haven’t seen Tim in like three weeks, is he still alive?” And someone else (Dick or Bruce) is just like “What are you talking about? Tim’s been sitting over in that corner.” And Duke just sees Tim unmoving in a corner, and is like “…that doesn’t answer the question, is he still alive?”

Tim is canonically, in the comics, the best at remaining unseen. He’s a cryptid. Kon and Bart tell horror stories about him and have blurry photos (taken blurrily on purpose in the same vein as Big Foot) that they show younger heroes. Jason occasionally regales his goons with stories of a creepy stalker child who fights crime. Dick tells his coworkers about his brothers but they don’t believe Tim exists because everytime they ask for a photo of him, Dick just shrugs and says he’s a bit camera shy. Damian complains about his brothers and all of his classmates are kind of worried he made up Tim, because he’s never come (it’s funny to imagine Jason and Dick and Bruce all coming to pick up Damian from school. It’s funnier to imagine that even Cass has picked him up). Several workers at Wayne Enterprises think that “Tim Drake-Wayne” is just a made up entity to keep the company out of enemy hands.

Tim is a cryptid, thanks for coming to my TED Talk

[smallblip]

You asked, I deliver! Part II of Accidental baby acquisition💖 I lost one of the asks 😩 but anon who asked about baby Udo, I named the baby in your honour! Saddle up cowboys! I’m not good with sequels but here we are-

Babygate:

the scandal that implies that a certain boy band member cheated on his partner (another band member) and had a kid even when the mom was never pregnant.

- urban dictionary

—

Reiner thinks things are alright. Life is definitely picking up. Pieck still sends him excerpts of her dirty fanfiction to proofread, Bertholdt is still doing all he can to “retire at 30”, Annie might have eloped with said boyfriend. But he’s seeing Porco on the regular now, he’s really cute, he’s got a nice ass. Reiner can’t complain.

He’s also recently donated his Levi Ackerman standee. Only because it’s getting increasingly hard to reconcile the fact that he has a life sized cutout of his colleague’s boyfriend in his room.

What he can complain about is said colleague (and friend) dropping bombs on him. He’s one of the moderators of one of the bigger No Name servers. Sometimes he wonders if that’s a conflict of interest because, well, he knows the guy on a first name basis. But today he has other concerns. He sees his notifications blowing up and decides to go on the No Name server. And lo and behold. There’s a paparazzi shot of Levi and Hanji with a stroller taking a walk in a new channel called “MYSTERY FAMILY?”.

He cancels his plans with Porco. “Don’t text me for the next few hours, got a fire to fight.” He clicks send, and feels kinda bad, so he sends Porco really dank meme to appease him. (That doesn’t stop Porco from doing exactly what Reiner told him not to do and demanding an explanation every five minutes).

He forces himself to take a deep breath before texting Hanji-

“Hanji… I don’t mean to be rude but…

WHAT THE FUCK?”

—

So here begins babygate. A conspiracy theory that took the Internet by storm.

“Levi Ackerman had a secret marriage! He was keeping this from us from the start!”

��It’s a publicity stunt to keep No Name relevant during their hiatus!”

“It’s an elaborate scheme by the company to punish Levi for announcing the hiatus without their knowledge!”

“Levi’s mystery partner was sent by the lizard people to take control of his mind and produce half-lizard, half-human hybrid babies to take over the world! What a bitch!” (This is Hanji’s favourite).

And the internet’s favourite- this is all an elaborate scheme to cover up the scandalous love affair between Levi and Eren- the band’s guitarist.

“What the fuck?” Levi had said during dinner once, to which Reiner had to swallow his food and pretend he never read or actively looked up ereri content. Yes. Reiner knows the name of their ship.

Levi hadn’t been too worried before, but when pictures of them shopping for baby stuff leaked online, something snaps. Something snaps and Erwin tells him he needs more time to figure out the biggest PR crisis in No Name history.

It’s Levi. Levi is the PR crisis.

So in the meantime, no shock reveals, no more social media, (if possible) no more leaving the house with pregnant girlfriend in tow. “Don’t do ANYTHING.” Erwin had said, “especially not you!” Erwin had directed that at Eren, who suggested he makes an announcement. Erwin shudders. He remembers all the past scandals they got themselves into just because Eren, bless him, didn’t know when to shut up.

“I’m sorry…” Levi says to Hanji when they’re cuddled up on the couch watching a documentary on whale migration.

“Huh?” Hanji says, voice muffled through her incessant sniffling because “whales are delivered tail first, Levi! They wear their mothers like hats!”

He apologises for putting her through the mess that is him and his job. And Hanji smiles at him. He wonders if their kid will look like her. He’s hoping they would.

“Levi…” Hanji sighs, taking his face in her hands, “that night at the bar I thought to myself ‘this man has a face I would risk it all for’… I think this counts within the realms of ‘all’”

Levi scoffs, but a smile is threatening the corners of his lips. Erwin’s nagging over the phone fades a little and he sinks a little lower into the couch. He sighs one more time for good measure before saying-

“So… you wanna know which my favourite babygate theory is?”

—

“And you’re really not bothered by all this?” Reiner asks, in an emergency meeting that he had scheduled into her calendar. He hates that he’s packing things into her already busy schedule when she’s about to pop but, he figures it’s better now than when the baby’s actually out. He had booked a meeting room and everything, figuring if he projected some of the crazy shit they’re saying on the fan boards up on screen, Hanji would start taking this seriously. Because if Reiner knows anything, it’s that the fans will do anything to keep their ship afloat.

He scrolls past another post on the lizard people and Hanji gets him to pause.

“I mean… A little?” Hanji pinches her fingers together.

“Hanji…” Reiner sighs, “you and Levi discuss and rate babygate conspiracy theories you find online I don’t think you’re taking this seriously at all…”

Hanji looks at Reiner- an absolute state of panic. And she considers panicking for a moment. She’s read articles dissecting babygate and although they’re absolutely batshit, Hanji appreciates how well-researched they are. Which is a little scary. To be fair to Levi, he’s been trying to get her to worry. “I can’t keep you safe all the time, you have to be careful” like he’s going off to war somewhere. But it’s not in Hanji nature to worry about things like this. She’s a researcher at a lab who lived an ordinary life up until the point the universe hit her with a-

Sike! Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy! What are you gonna do about it?

And now she knows what headcanons and lemons are, and she really doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge. So Hanji decides, she’ll do nothing. She’ll go on indulgently long walks Levi in tow, she’ll talk his ear off about work. And like a good girlfriend, she’ll listen to his demos (and enjoy them) and tell him “are you sure anger rhymes with danger?”.

“I don’t really know how to worry about anything beyond our samples getting contaminated…” Hanji says, sheepish. Reiner sighs. He doesn’t want to be a wet blanket on Hanji’s life. He wants to be fun Reiner. Cool as a cucumber. Reiner who manages to make it through dinner at Hanji’s without having to excuse himself to hyperventilate in her bathroom because Levi is right there. And he’s so afraid that he might just be able to read his mind and find out he had looked up Levi Ackerman x y/n fanfiction once in his foolish youth (youth being approximately four months back)

Reiner shudders.

“Yeah okay… That’s um… That’s cool… Right?” He says.

Hanji shrugs.

—

So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what?

You go into labour of course, with a matter of fact- “oh. Look Levi. The water broke.” All while refusing to leave the house until you demolish that amazing sandwich he made for you. You go into labour and you yell and grunt like a beast as you squeeze the life out of your baby daddy because he kinda deserves it. You both kinda deserve this pain. Take it as heavenly punishment for being horny and stupid if you will.

And in the middle of it Hanji thinks huh, this feels like a mix of a reality TV show from MTV and a badly written fanfiction. Except Hanji isn’t a teen mom and she’s too old for self-insert fiction that involves a lead singer of a popular band.

But Levi is here, and he doesn’t complain one bit even though he looks like he’s about to pass out. So as far as drunken one night stands go- this is pretty damn aspirational.

The baby enters the world with a huge cry.

“Kid’s got a huge set of lungs…” Levi says, but his own voice is quivering.

“Just like her dad…” Hanji smiles.

As he watches Hanji fall asleep with their baby on her chest, Levi thinks fuck it. Fuck keeping this under wraps. Fuck the fans and them enjoying how Eren gets on his nerves. Fuck Erwin and his “Levi. You’re giving me a headache. You are the cause of this headache.” Because the baby has Hanji’s nose and his eyes and he loves them more than anything in the world.

He snaps a picture of them and tags bigdaddyzoë-

“Welcome to the world, my love.”

—

Reiner can’t help the tears that well in his eyes after seeing the picture Hanji had sent him of the baby-

“He says hi to his favourite uncle!” Was the caption, and Reiner could only reply with a crying cat meme and an incoherent text that Hanji favourites.

He’s on the bus on the way to the hospital when his phone buzzes incessantly. It’s Porco.

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK.”

“LEVI ACKERMAN IS HANJI ZOË’S BABY DADDY?”

“HANJI ZOË MY PHD SUPERVISOR?”

“LEVI ACKERMAN OF NO NAME?”

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK?”

He sends a reply at the entrance of the hospital-

“Welcome to my world”

—

Reiner thinks things are alright. He’s one of the moderator of one of the bigger No Name servers, so he can block and remove people at his discretion. Some days he lets it get to his head. It makes him feel like a king. But today, he’s putting out fires.

Erwin decided their PR strategy was absolutely no strategy, because “they’re zooming in on the pixels Levi. Once they doubt the pixels, they won’t believe anything we’re saying”. With that. Babygate has officially taken on a life of its own. Eren still sends Levi babygate articles to annoy him, and to Hanji because she asked very nicely. Hanji thinks Erwin’s strategy makes sense, Levi thinks it’s just lazy. But Erwin framed a certificate that says “survived a PR crisis (sort of)” that Hanji had insisted be hung up on their wall, so that closes one chapter. Besides, Eren has been spotted going out on dates with a mystery girl. Which has the double effect of diverting attention away from Levi and exacerbating babygate because “see? Told you the company’s doing all they can to prove they’re not together!”

“Can’t you keep it in your pants?” Levi had thrown at Eren, to which he had responded cleverly with a-

“Could’ve said the same for you!”

Touché…

“See? That can’t be Levi! Look at how he’s smiling!”

“That can’t be a baby! Looks like an animatronic to me!”

“Do they even make animatronics that realistic?”

Reiner pins his “no slander” rule- one day they’ll get it. Or at least he would’ve gotten rid of all the people that don’t.

“Who’s this bigdaddyzoë anyway?”

“Maybe she isn’t real? Company probably invented her…”

“Heard she’s a crazy groupie who got knocked up…”

“Heard she’s hot…”

… several people are typing

—

“So… I heard from Reiner you were defending my honour in the server?” Hanji quirks an eyebrow.

Levi shrugs. Whatever goes down in the server stays between Leviackerman173810 (leviackerman and all 173809 permutations of said username had already been taken) and the hundreds of people who haven’t quite figured out he’s the real deal. Besides, Erwin has issued him three warnings so it’s best to lay low for now.

“My hero…” Hanji chuckles, pressing a kiss on Levi’s head. Below them, baby Udo wriggles and yawns against the fabric of Levi’s shirt. Cute.

So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what? You look at your son and know he’s going to break hearts like his father of course. And if you’re Levi, you pray to god he never asks about babygate because Hanji has read up enough about it to be considered a connoisseur.

One day the internet will break when they find out the identity of bigdaddyzöe. But for now baby Udo has his parents wrapped around his tiny fingers and he doesn’t quite understand the concept of him being the spawn of every typical band member x y/n fanfiction. Or the centre of a very popular, very absurd, yet strangely believable internet conspiracy theory. Or the canon plot that has sunk one of the biggest No Name ships. And that’s okay.

[no-stabbing-wednesdays]

The Conspiracy Job

I made a post about the “Eliot’s semi-famous identities” conspiracy here and @what---i-dated-a wanted a fic, which got my muse going. So, here it is, and also on AO3

An amazing version of the same concept by @copperbadge was linked in the notes and I recommend you all read that too! The Job Interview Job

The Conspiracy Job

“Oh, not again!”

The others, busy drawing up plans for their latest con, looked over at Hardison. 

“What is it?” Sophie asked.

He brought his display up on the large screen at the front of the room. 

“Someone’s just searched a bunch of Eliot’s old aliases, all at the same time.”

Parker frowned as she looked at the screen. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Eliot was on his feet immediately, concern clear on his face.

“Who is it? CIA? FBI? KGB? Mossad?”

“Give me a second,” Hardison said. “No, I don’t think so. They’re not being flagged on any databases. Someone’s just googling them.”

Eliot relaxed slightly and rolled his eyes. “It’s not those damn conspiracy forums, is it? I thought you got rid of those.”

“I did! They haven’t posted anything, they’re just looking. Oh, they’re here in Portland.”

Eliot tensed again at that, but Hardison shook his head.

“Relax, man. It’s a family house; a couple of dentists and a fifteen year old. If they post anything I’ll take it down, nothing to worry about.”

On the other side of Portland, Julia stepped into her friend Marcie’s bedroom and her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her. Marcie was connecting red threads between grainy, printed-out images on her corkboard and empty bottles of Gatorade littered the desk.

“You have to cool it with this, dude.”

Marcie turned to face her, her hair a mess and her eyes red from lack of sleep, and Julia sighed.

“You look like freaking Charlie Kelly!”

“There’s something here, Jules. I’m sure of it.”

“It’s a couple of athletes and a singer who happen to look similar. It’s hardly the scoop of the century.”

“Look similar? Look similar? Julia, they are completely identical! There are exactly three possibilities.” She held up three fingers in her friend’s face as she counted them off. “Triplets, clones or one ridiculously talented guy.”

“Okaaay, and which one do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” Marcie answered, turning back to her board. “Triplets? Why would they have different names and hide it? One guy? He’d have to be able to sing and play guitar, baseball and hockey. Why wouldn’t you own up to having that kind of talent? Why go to different places with different names? Clones? I’m leaning clones.”

“Clones? Come on, Marcie.” 

“It’s the most logical explanation.”

“You think someone cloned a human being just to create a one-hit-wonder country singer and some short lived athletes?”

Marcie shrugged. “It could be a trial run or an experiment or something. And you remember that anything I ever said on the forums would mysteriously vanish? I went to look after Jacques Labert turned up and every single forum post was gone! Every one! Doesn’t that sound like a government conspiracy to you?”

“It’s weird,” Julia admitted. “But I think you might be taking this a little too far. If the government were making clones, why would they let them get famous so people could discover it?”

“But they weren’t that famous. Think about it, what were the chances that someone would connect them? There were only ever a couple of us posting on the forums. If I hadn’t happened to be visiting my uncle in Palmerston when Roy Chappell was playing and then gone to Saddle and Spurs for my birthday, I’d never have known.” 

Her eyes widened as a horrifying thought occurred to her . “Then Jacques Labert turned up in my city! What if I’m the connection?”

She swung back to the board and began to write her own name. Julia grabbed her hand.

“Marcie! You’re not the center of a government conspiracy! Besides, who’s this fourth guy again?” She asked, tapping one of the photos in the corner. “You didn’t have anything to do with him, did you?”

“No,” Marcie conceded. “And I told you about him, remember? He’s an animal rights activist who was on the news in San Lorenzo a couple of years ago, talking about dog fights in the Presidential Palace. And he’s Canadian. That’s why it’s so exciting that, after almost two years of nothing new, Jacques Labert, Canadian hockey player, suddenly appears. Was the guy on the news Jacques Labert? If there really is more than one of them in the first place!”

Julia grimaced, increasingly worried about Marcie’s obsession with this wild conspiracy. “He was on the news where?”

“San Lorenzo. It’s this tiny European country. Here look.” Marcie sat at her desk, tapped the name into Google and turned her laptop towards Julia. 

Julia scrolled through a few pictures of the idyllic Mediterranean island, then stopped suddenly and pointed at one of them. 

“Wait, who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Rebecca Ibañez. It’s a tragic story,” Marcie explained, as she clicked on the link and showed her some clearer pictures. “A couple of years ago, the same time maybe-Jacques Labert was there, there was an election and her fiancé won. But, just as the results were announced, supporters of the former president tried to assassinate him and Rebecca stepped in front and took the bullet for him.”

“She was assassinated?”

“Yes, isn’t it awful?”

Julia shook her head. “She can’t have been.”

“What?”

“She’s my brother Zachary’s acting teacher.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I went to see his play last week and I met her. Her name’s Sophie Devereaux and she’s definitely not dead.”

Marcie looked at her in amazement, a grin breaking out across her face . “And she was in San Lorenzo at the same time as Jacques-Roy-Kenneth! There might be even more to this than I thought!”

Julia, almost as invested as Marcie now that her brother’s odd director was mixed up in this, pulled up a chair and looked on excitedly as her friend brought up another google search. 

Back at the Brewpub, the crew were working out the kinks in their plan while waiting for any sign of the internet sleuth trying to share their ideas about Eliot’s multiple identities.

When the computer pinged again, they all turned to see which of his aliases had been flagged this time, only for their eyes to widen in horror as the search term flashed on the screen.

“Rebecca Ibañez” “Sophie Devereaux”

Sophie gave a gasp that almost turned into a choke. “Wha- wha- what?”

Eliot turned to Hardison, furious. “Oh sure, just dentists and a teenager! Fix. This.”

“I’m trying!” Hardison said. “I can’t find any connections to anything. They look clean.”

“Then look harder!”

Wait, I have something. It’s the kid’s computer.”

“Who’s the kid?” Nate asked.

Hardison pulled up a Facebook page. “Marcie Taylor. She’s a sophomore. She used to post on those stupid Eliot forums that I had to take down every week after Memphis. It was pretty harmless, but I’ve no idea why she’s suddenly looking at Sophie’s aliases.”

He scrolled down the page looking for any kind of hint, when Sophie called out to him to stop.

“Who’s that with her? She looks familiar.”

A few more clicks and Hardison had a name.

“Julia Gutmann. She’s in the same class.”

Gutmann?” Sophie groaned. “I know why she’s familiar. That’s Zachary’s little sister.”

“Zachary? Your acting student Zachary?” Nate asked disbelievingly.

“Yes, she came to our play last week.”

Nate shook his head. “I told you to use an alias at that theater.”

“But I wanted to do this as me,” Sophie protested.

Eliot turned back to Hardison. “So, let me get this straight. The aliases and digital trail that you set up to be uncrackable by international governmental organizations are about to be blown apart by a couple of high schoolers?”

Hardison glowered at him. “They’re only looking at old aliases and they were all burnt when we had to leave Boston anyway. It’s not that bad.”

“Sophie’s still using Sophie,” Eliot argued, nearly yelling now. “And I was only just Jacques Labert and in this city. Now they’ve tied me and her together. How did they even do that? That’s way more than some fifteen year old girls should be able to accomplish on Google.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t panic. They were looking at photos of San Lorenzo. That’s how they found a picture of Sophie."

Sophie glared at him.

"Hey!" he protested. "You're the one who jumped in front of the cameras! I can't control the entire internet you know, and I think the people of San Lorenzo would have noticed if every image of their martyred heroine suddenly vanished.

“It’s just bad luck that Julia had met you. But why were they looking at…” Hardison groaned. “They found that video of Eliot and the puppy somehow.”

“Why didn’t you take that down?” Eliot snapped.

“It’s a thirty second feature on the news from two years ago in a country smaller than Iceland! It wasn’t my top priority!”

“Dammit, Hardison!”

“So, our cover’s going to get blown by kids?” Parker asked, incredulously. 

“No,” Nate insisted. “Well, maybe. But we can manage this. Hardison, don't let them post anything. Sophie, call Zachary. Let’s go steal ourselves some silence.”

[favefandomimagines]

The Girl He Told Her Not To Worry About (j.m.)

Summary: the rumor mill is in full swing on the outer banks. 

AN: took a quick break from soul surfer and decided to post something i’ve had in my drafts for a hot minute. i promise chapter 8 is coming soon!! xx

The Outer Banks never felt like a small island to most. It certainly didn’t to the Pogues 90% of the time. And it didn’t to you either.

As a Kook, it was normal to feel like the Outer Banks was keeping you from living a fabulous adventure. But everyday was an adventure to you when you were with your friends and your spontaneous boyfriend.

You had known John B, Pope and JJ as long as you’ve known Kiara. You, her and Sarah Cameron were all friends once upon a time. But then battle lines were drawn and you were forced to pick a side. And that side was Sarah���s. But you always loved Kiara and soon your friendship was rekindled. Way sooner than hers and Sarah’s.

However, when it comes to rumors, the Outer Banks was the smallest of towns. Rumors and information spread like wildfire amongst Figure 8 and the Cut. Which is how you and Sarah ended up storming to the Chateau, a fire in your eyes as all you saw was red. 

Half of your ‘friends’ have been texting you all day, sending you the same picture that had somehow started circulating around the island. A picture of JJ and Kiara kissing each other on the beach at night. 

Of course you were sad. You were devastated. But your anger took over your sadness for just a short while. Sarah was just as angry because why hadn’t John B put a stop do this? Did John B even know? She thought Kiara was different but she was being proved wrong. 

The two of you entered the small home to see the Pogues all sitting on the couch. “Hey, baby, I didn’t know you were-” JJ started before you cut him. “Shut up, JJ.” You sneered. “What?” He questioned, taken aback by your tone. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? Seriously, do I look that dumb to you?” You snapped. “Find out what?” Kiara asked. “That you’re a backstabbing bitch, Kiara.” You yelled. 

No one had ever heard you call Kiara by her real name. She was always Kie to you and you always found it weird whenever someone except for her parents called her Kiara. 

“Whoa what are you talking about, Y/N?” John B asked. “They’ve been screwing around behind my back. All the times you both were coincidentally busy at the same time. Kiara was no where to be found and JJ was AWOL.” You answered. “Half of the fucking island got that stupid picture of the two of you.” You added.

John B and Pope looked at their two friends, both surprised at what they were hearing. 

“Was this payback for Sarah’s stupid birthday party? You thought now I was friends with your friends good payback would be to sleep with my boyfriend?” You questioned. “No,” Kiara started, not knowing where you were getting this information from. 

“Y/N,” JJ started trying to reach out for you. “You told me I had nothing to worry about.” You told him. By that point, once you looked at him, the anger had completely melted away. “I-I came to you, worried out of my mind about you and her and you told me I didn’t have to worry. That you were just friends. You are a liar. Because this picture looks like a little more than friends to me.” You finished, the tears rolling down your cheeks as you shoved the printed off picture into his chest. 

Sarah walked over to you and grabbed your hand pulling you towards the door. “Please, Y/N.” JJ begged. “Please just stay away from me.” You cried before Sarah pulled you away from the scene. 

The Chateau fell silent, no one being able to find the words to break the silence. 

JJ slowly looked down at the picture in his hands and furrowed his eyebrows. “What is it?” Pope asked. “This picture is from two years ago. That time we got too drunk and kissed thinking we’d like it. Before the no Pogue on Pogue macking rule.” JJ explained. 

“And Y/N wouldn’t know that because she was still hanging around with the Kooks.” John B assumed. “Who would do this?” Kiara asked. Clearly she was distraught that her best friend thought she was sleeping with her boyfriend. 

After about a week of radio silence from both you and Sarah, the Pogues decided to make the trip to Figure 8 and try to get the story from Sarah. Sarah was closest to you out of the group so they knew she’d have more of an answer. 

JJ was a mess. The way you looked at him before you left was something he wished he could get out of his head. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt you and yet he did without even having done anything. He told himself he’d never hurt you the second you agreed to be his girlfriend. He didn’t want to end up like his dad. 

They arrived at Tanny Hill, all of them clearly feeling out of place. They knocked on the door and were met by the infamous figure of Rafe Cameron. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asked. “Where’s Sarah?” John B asked. “Upstairs. Oh and uh, I heard about you and Y/N, Maybank. You’re dumber than I thought.” He answered. 

JJ clenched his jaw before John B pushed past him. “Tell Y/N I say hi.” Rafe called. The group marched up the stairs and followed John B in the direction of Sarah’s room. 

John B knocked and heard Sarah instruct them to come in. “What are you guys doing here?” She asked crossing her arms over her chest. “The picture of JJ and Kie is old. From two years ago. I don’t know who got it or who sent it around but we think they did it to hurt Y/N.” Pope explained. 

“You better be 100% positive. You didn’t see her face when she got that text. I’ve known her for 10 years and never once have I seen her look so, broken.” Sarah said. “What did she say?” JJ finally spoke. 

Sarah looked at him before answering. “Nothing. She didn’t say anything. She just cried.” She answered. JJ closed his eyes momentarily, hating himself even more for not making more of an effort to set the record straight. 

“I should’ve tried harder.” He spoke. “She wouldn’t think I cheated on her if I would’ve tried harder to explain to her what really happened.” He added. “You know how she gets. Once she hears one thing no amount of proof can prove otherwise. Like anytime she brings up a conspiracy theory.” John B told him. 

“She’s at the beach. Teaching surfing lessons. If you really wanna set the record straight, you’ll find her there.” Sarah said. 

JJ took Sarah’s advice and headed to the beach shortly after the group left Tanny Hill. 

You were just about done with teaching surfing lessons. You were rewaxing your board for your day off tomorrow when you felt like someone was staring at you. 

JJ spotted you kneeling in the sand, wind blowing your hair to one side, still in your swimsuit as you waxed your surfboard. You looked up and made eye contact with him which you quickly regretted and he could tell. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and walked towards you. You could sense he was approaching you which was why you didn’t bother to stop your task. 

“Hey.” He started. You barely looked up at him but stopped waxing the board. “There has clearly been a huge misunderstanding. That picture you got sent was from two years ago.” JJ said. “Before I met you and way before we even started dating. Kie and I were really drunk and we thought we would see what it felt like to kiss and it was wrong and weird and it felt like I was kissing a relative. I don’t know who sent you that picture or why they’d want to do that, but I would never cheat on you. The last thing I could ever think about doing is cheating on you. I love you too much to do that.” He finished. 

You were silent and listened to what he had to say before you stood up. JJ wanted to be serious so he did his best not to let his eyes wander your figure. 

“Do you swear to me it was an old photo? This isn’t just you covering your ass?” You questioned. “I swear. On everything good in my life, I swear that it’s an old picture.” He answered. 

You nodded your head slowly and looked up at him. “I’m sorry for what I said. Calling you a liar. You’ve never lied to me before. Except for that time when you told me you saw a shark just to freak me out.” You said. 

JJ laughed lightly as he took your hands. “You know I love you right?” He asked. “I love you too.” You replied. 

“Can I kiss you now? Not being able to do that has been the worst form of torture on the planet.” JJ asked.

You laughed at him before practically launching yourself at him and pressed your lips against his. 

[sweetiepie08]

RebelZ (Chapter 9)

Invader Zim fanfic

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

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

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

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

[-]

“Care to tell us what the fuck that was?” the Dib shouted as they ran down the hall.

“A coup, obviously,” Zim shot back. “Just not one where you seize power at the end. So, half a coup.”

“So then who seizes power now?”

“The Tallest Red and Purple still have it,”

Dib nearly tripped over his own feet in his shock. “You mean you didn’t kill them?”

“It’s nearly impossible to poison an Irken,” Tak explained. “The PAK filters out most toxins. You can incapacitate them, though, for a short period of time.”

“So you basically just quit your job in spectacular fashion,” Dib said indignantly.

Tak almost couldn’t believe it. Zim must be sincere in his betrayal. He poisoned the Tallest and declared to the entire upper crust of the Irken military that it was intentional. There was no coming back from that. Every other disaster he caused could reasonably be argued as a mistake. But there could be no doubt here. Zim truly had turned on the empire.

Yet, something still didn’t sit quite right with her. If he had gone rebel, if he had truly turned traitor, then his life clock would have gone off like hers did. One would reasonably assume the impotence for this betrayal was her discovery of the Control Brains parasite, but she was with him ever since she told him that news and she never saw his life clock go off. But that could only mean something else prompted him at an earlier date. So the question was, what made Zim finally snap?

They came to a split in the hallway. Tak started going right while Zim went left.

“Uh, the Voot is this way,” Tak called.

“I’m not going to the Voot,” Zim yelled back. “I’m going to the control room.”

Dib and Tak cast each other a glance, then followed him. They found him crouched behind a door at the end of the hall and joined him in his hiding spot. Dib took a peak inside. There, dozens of Irkens worked at their stations. They seemed unaware that, for now, their leaders were incapacitated.

Zim tapped his PAK and a metal ball flew into his hands. He pulled a pin, tossed it in, and smashed the control panel, shutting the door. They heard coughing from the other side and, after a few minutes, opened the door to find the Irkens unconscious on the floor.

“So, what are we doing in here again?” Dib asked, as they stepped into the room.

Zim grabbed one of the Irkens who still slouched in their chair and threw them to the floor. “Wiping Urth off the navigation map.” He sat down and the monitor and started messing with the buttons. “If I’m going to continue to use it as my home base, I can’t have them finding it.”

“Not so fast,” Tak slapped his fingers away from the buttons. “Before this goes any further, I need answers. If you’re truly on our side, there’s only one way your life clock didn’t go off.”

“We don’t have time for this!”

“You had a rebellious thought!” Tak declared. “When?”

“Three Urth years ago.”

“Three years?” Dib shouted, stepping up to them. “But I’ve been watching you. Why were you still trying to conquer Earth if you kinda-quit three years ago?”

“I wasn’t.”

“But I saw you building machines!” Dib argued.

“They weren’t for me!” Zim shot back.

Tak began to ask “But how-” before Zim cut her off.

“Silence!” he shouted. “Silence your questions! I need to concentrate.”

Zim continued typing on the buttons until a picture of the Earth appeared on the screen. The stats were scarce, save for the coordinates and the note, ‘that place where Zim is.’ The little blue ball of dirt and water had gone unnoticed by the empire, noteworthy only as a banishment site. To them, it was merely a place to keep Zim contained, far away from anything important. But after the stunt they pulled today, it would be a target.

Another few clicks of a button and the Urth was gone, leaving only a blank file in its wake. All Irken military ships automatically synced with the Massive. If it was gone from this data base, it was essentially invisible to all Irkens. If they wanted to find Urth again, they’d have to scour the universe for it. But why stop at Urth?

“Let’s dump it all,” Tak said.

“What?”

“Erase the database,” she said. “It’ll be a crippling blow to the empire.”

“Do we really have time to erase everything?” Dib asked. The human made a good point.

“Jut the maps then,” she suggested. “They would have to rebuild their navigation systems from scratch and it would send the fleet into disarray.”

“Zim is no radical!” Zim snapped. “I’m only doing this to cover my own ass.”

“Not a raical?” Dib scoffed. “You just poisoned your own leaders.”

“That was personal,” Zim argued. “This is political.”

“And what about those weapons you’re building?!” Dib shot back. “If they’re not for Irk, then who are they for?”

“Zim’s business deals are none of your… um… business!”

“Shut up!” Tak commanded, taking a seat at another monitor. “We don’t have time for this! Let’s get these maps erased and get out of here.”

“If you even make it that far,” a chorus of voices answered.

Dib looked around. “Who said that?”

“We did, human.”

Every Irken in the room rose to their feet. Tak prepared herself for a fight. Her eyes darted as she watched them all, poised to deploy the weapons in her PAK. But none made a move to attack. They all stood there, stalk still, with a dead look in their eyes.

Dib gaped at the sight. “H-how are you…”

“Silence Urth Creature!” the possessed Irkens shouted in unison, turning their cold eyes toward Dib. “Do not interrupt us again!” Dib shut his mouth and the Irkens calmed. “Congratulations defectives” they said, now addressing Zim and Tak. “It’s been centuries since we had to resort to total override, but mark our words, you will pay for this waste of food.”

“What do you care for waste?” Tak spat back at them. “You throw Irken lives away every day in your conquest.”

“A calculated cost to bring me more to feed from in the long term,” the Irkens explained with their eerily monotone voices. “You should know about calculated risks. Don’t forget, we see everything you do.”

“When have I ever sacrificed good soldiers?”

Every possessed Irken in the room wore the same mocking smirk. “All through your training days. Don’t you remember? We saw everything you did, every little cheat to get ahead.”

The Irkens tapped buttons on their control boards and soon, every monitor showed various scenes from Tak’s training years. “Electrodes hidden in your boots to cripple race opponents. Stealing test answers and planting them in a rival’s locker after copying them for yourself. You got top scores on your exams and excelled at your drills, but is it really victory if you have to sabotage your competitions? Oh sure, you studied and trained, but it never felt like enough, did it? Never thought you could win a fair fight. Had to tear someone else down first. Maybe, if it weren’t for all your cheating, we’d have let you make up your Elite ranking test. After all, we allowed everyone else who was inconvenienced by the blackout to take it.” Their smirks grew as they twisted the knife further. “Just not you.”

Tak ground her teeth together as she watched the images play out on the screen. There was no denying them. The monitors played footage from her own memory bank. They showed her and everyone else who she really was. She work so hard. She clawed her way to the top and did everything she could to stay there. But it was all a lie. And now they knew it. What was worse, Zim knew it. That little pain in the ass managed to make it to elite the first time, even while being a walking disaster, and he never had to deliberately cheat. The idea of him lording that over her was enough to make her blood boil.

“Perhaps you can prove everyone wrong, though,” the Irken voices went on. “Take the honest route for once in your life. Tell Zim what you learned on your little trip to Refirencee. Tell him what you suspect.”

“Fool!” Zim scoffed. “Zim already accessed Tak’s memories. I know everything she knows about the Control Brain parasite.”

“Yes, you saw the same books. But did you reach the same conclusions?”

“Guys! Don’t you see what it’s doing?” The Dib burst in. “It’s distracting you. It’s keeping you here until your leaders recover. Let’s erase those maps and get out of here!”

“Silence!” Zim snapped at Dib, then turned back to the dead-eyed Irkens. “Tell Zim what you know, creepy hive-mind…thing!”

“Have you ever wondered why you’re such a failure? Why you destroy everything you touch? Why, no matter what you do, everything always blows up in your face? It’s because you have no choice in the matter. It’s what you were made for.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Before we push for something big, we require extra sustenance. We take this sustenance in what some have called a blood toll. On our first planet, we made many mistakes, one was asking our hosts directly for sacrifices. We know better now.”

“Ans what does this have to do with me?” Zim growled impatiently.

“Since the beginning of our reign, one PAK has been passed down through generations, carrying a suppressed impulse for destruction. We need only to activate it and we have our blood toll. Clearly our PAK has become quite damaged over the years. It no longer works quite right. You’re so defective, you couldn’t even declare your name right.”

The screen flashed the name Zim across it. It then reversed the letters and spread them out to reveal an acronym. ZIM became MIZ. And MIZ became Massacre Initiator Z.

“You were supposed to live as a low-ranking drone until we activated your destructive impulse and die in the disaster. You, however, defied us at every turn. We kept you alive out of sheer curiosity. We wanted to see how your life would play out. It’s been entertaining, however, you’ve become too great a burden to bare.”

Zim stood motionless, staring straight ahead. They waited for the typical Zim outburst of “lies!” or declaring his greatness, but nothing came. His eyes looked as dead as the possessed Irkens around them. He said nothing, did nothing. As much as Tak couldn’t stand Zim’s obnoxious voice or erratic behavior, watching him be so still was chilling.

Tak’s antenna perks at the sound of footsteps trooping down the hall. The Dib’s head darted for the door. “Guy! Come on! We’re out of time!”

Tak smacked Zim’s lifeless body away from the control panel. “Do you think you can stop us by getting into our heads?”

“Oh simple Tak,” the Irkens sighed. “We've lived in your heads since you were fitted with your packs.”

Tak sneered at them. “I cut you off for me and I won't rest until every Irken is free of you.”

“Please, you worked your whole life to get our attention. You finally have it. Do you want to throw that away? Perhaps we can find a place with someone of your drive and ingenuity.”

“Liars!” Did they think she was stupid? She knew as well as it that treason of this scale would never go unpunished. Even if they tried to appease her with a higher rank or a cushy job, it’d only be a matter of time before they got rid of her. But even the fact that it was trying to negotiate meant something. She was a threat to it, and she would stay a threat until the day she died.

“We you know you, Tak. You’re a plotter. You won't do anything rash.”

They don’t know me half as well as they think. “Want a bet?” She started hitting buttons on the control board. An alert came up on the screen and the voice blared from the speakers. “All maps queued for deletion. Are you sure you want to proceed?”

She hit one more button and the screen went black. “Deletion successful.”

“Take that you parasite bitch.”

“Come on,” Dib begged, pulling on her arm. The footsteps were noticeably louder. “We have to go now!”

Tak took off running and Dib pulled on the frozen Zim until his legs moved. They burst into the hall and immediately came across a group of Irkan soldiers. “There they are!” one of the soldiers cried.

Tak led the way as they ran toward the ship’s hanger. The soldiers fired at them. A laser cannon popped out of Tak’s pack and returned fire, but it was difficult for her to aim while leading the dash to the Voot. She wished one of her companions had could back her up with a pistol but Zim was still barely conscious and Dib was preoccupied with keeping his legs moving. The sound of little metallic feet running beside them gave her an idea.

“Zim, tell me your SIR unit to go into defensive mode.

There was no response. Zim was as helpful as a sack of empty ginzor cans.

“Hey Zim’s robot,” Dib said to the little SIR unit.

Gir looked up at him curiously. “Hmm?”

“Don't you have any weapons or something?”

“Huh?”

“You know, something that makes pretty lights and goes ‘pew, pew’?”

“Oh that. I got that.” A giant laser cannon popped out of his head and he fired wildly into the soldiers behind them, forcing the Irkens to scatter for cover

Finally, they made it to the hangar and all jumped in the Voot. Zim slid zombie-like into the pilot seat.

“Come on,” Dib said, shaking Zim’s shoulder. “Get us out of here!”

“Zim!” Tak snapped. “If you don't fly this ship, I will!”

That seemed to work. Zim shook off whatever stupor he was in and his usual look of single-minded determination returned to his eyes. “No one pilots Zim’s ship but Zim!” He took hold of the controls and the ship roared to life. In a flash, they took off into the stars.

[solalunar-eclipse]

Scars You Can’t See - Chapter 7

Chapter title: Exhaustion

Word count: about 3300 words

Author’s Note: Thank you all for being so patient with me during the months this fic was on hiatus...but thankfully, the wait is over! I hope you all enjoy!

No warnings for this chapter, though it is pretty dark.

First | Previous | Next

...

The team had been working nonstop through the past several days, spending hours upon hours at different libraries throughout Westopolis and the surrounding areas. They never used the same one twice, so they couldn’t be traced. Hopefully.

Loading the full video and an explanation onto the three different USB drives they had bought took up most of that time, since it required a lot of formatting and download time and they couldn’t stay in any one place for too long. Rouge was the most talented with technology from her hacking experience, but slow Internet connections were something even she couldn’t work around.

Shadow really wanted to be a major part of the process, but his struggles with the video itself had posed serious issues for his involvement. While he had eventually been able to view the other part of the film, he’d still had a strong reaction and then needed an hour to decompress afterwards, all while feeling frustrated at (in his words) his “lack of self-control”.

Rouge and Omega were strongly opposed to that wording, since it suggested that his trauma- because it was trauma, despite his arguments- was something that he could control.

In the end, Shadow was often forced to take a backseat during much of the work, or else his mental state would be a mess throughout the rest of the day. He still helped out in any way possible, though, even if it was something as simple as going out to buy food to keep Rouge’s strength up.

Today was the final day. Team Dark was fully prepared to make a post on three of their main social media pages, and all three envelopes with the USB drives inside had been mailed out (under the false cover of being simple job application letters). They were headed to three different media organizations, which- while not necessarily mainstream- were at least somewhat reputable and sympathetic to their current cause.

While it was still unlikely that the general public opinion would change after this information release, there would hopefully be enough supporters for this to mean something.

At exactly 12:00 p.m. on Oceanic Standard Time, ten days after Team Dark had stolen their original files and fled capture by G.U.N., the videos were released out into the world for everyone to see.

At 12:01 p.m., OST, as the team watched from a public computer, the Internet basically exploded.

All three of the team’s accounts were flooded within seconds, ablaze with accusations, conspiracy theories, and more. The best were the expressions of sympathy and support, though. Those boosted the general mood in the room while providing the three with enough bravery to actually write back to a few people.

There were a few particularly vocal supporters who the team members recognized right away… it seemed that the members of Team Sonic had grown tired of sitting around while their friends put their lives on the line and were now channeling all of their frustration into their keyboards. The team’s morale only rose higher. (However, considering the depths they had been in before, this mainly meant that they seemed almost normal again.)

Through it all, G.U.N. remained silent.

The team decided not to stay at the computer for long- the organization was always watching and probably had some of their best hackers on the case already. Shadow grabbed a couple of books before they left, but none of them really even had the energy to read at this point. They’d spent so many late nights going over and over the wording of everything they would say and every move that they would make, and the replies they’d given just now were carefully considered by all three of them as well.

As soon as they made it back to the hotel, Omega whipped out his charging cord and shoved it into an outlet, and Shadow fell face-down onto the bed. “Oh chaos. Oh chaos we’re really in it now, aren’t we.”

Rouge sighed, sinking into a chair and massaging her brow. “Yes, we are. It's worth it, though.”

“I know.” Shadow muttered into the bedspread. “It’s just…” he trailed off, uncertain as to how to express his thoughts.

“...exhausting.” Rouge finished his sentence for him. “It’s tiring to work so hard on something, all the time.”

The hedgehog pointed a gloved finger at her briefly, before letting his hand fall back onto the mattress. “That sums it up perfectly.”

They lay there for awhile, just allowing themselves to rest after the frenzy of the past few days.

Eventually, though, Shadow forced himself to sit up. “So what are we doing next?” he asked, a frown set low over his eyes.

Rouge got to her feet, exhaustion weighing down her movements. “I think we should probably take a couple of days before we do anything else, hon. That was a lot of work.”

“I know,” Shadow said quickly, looking down at the mint-green sheets of the bed. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t working hard, I just-”

“I didn’t think you were.” she said gently. “I know you want to stop them as soon as possible, and so do I. But...we’re not in any shape to do much like this- being tired always makes people sloppy.”

Rouge smirked faintly. “I learned that one the hard way.” she mused, recalling a particular heist that she’d tried to pull off after going 48 hours without sleep. It had not ended well, to say the least. 

“I’m gonna head down to that restaurant we looked at earlier. I need food.” the bat muttered quietly. Omega gave her a thumbs-up as she walked out the door.

Rouge wandered through the town, looking around. She saw so many different people, all of them going about their ordinary lives, and reminded herself that soon enough, the world would be just a little bit safer for them to enjoy. This raised her spirits, if only slightly. Just enough that she felt like being a little more friendly to the (likely overworked and underpaid) workers in the restaurant than usual.

In fact, she suspected that recently when she had gone out to eat, she’d come off as almost as sulky as Shadow- constant work and paranoia really took it out of a person. Today, though, her work was temporarily finished, and she could take a deep breath with, if not relaxation, then at least a certain amount of freedom.

Rouge got her food quickly, but with a (perhaps a little too) bright smile and a cheerful wave. 

She left a sizable tip in the glass jar out front, all the while trying to ignore a little voice inside her head that whispered you should give that money to others, you won’t be needing it for much longer…

The bat hated trying to imagine just what G.U.N. was capable of, as well as the potential consequences of their actions. That was exactly why she spent the rest of the day relaxing in her room with Shadow and Omega, mostly reading or playing board games with them. As nice as it was to be able to relax and not obsess over sentences and file formats, they all missed being able to go about their ordinary lives, instead of having to control their every move in order to stay alive. She could feel it in the atmosphere of the room. 

Out of nowhere, Rouge felt the sudden fervent hope that Shadow’s motorbike and Omega’s weapons collection would be okay. She had seen the occasional picture of Club Rouge during her time spent working, and it was all cordoned off and dark and sad...she had made a lot of fond memories there. 

Whether or not some of those memories were of kicking particularly irritating patrons to the curb when their behavior went too far was entirely nobody else’s business.

Rouge hoped for another day or two like this before they had to do any more work- they needed it if they were going to succeed. Shadow had dark rings under his eyes and this was Omega’s first day in over a week where he hadn’t gotten a “power low” warning. If they tried to pull off the kind of heist she had in mind like this, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

The next morning, however, it became clear that Team Dark wouldn’t get that kind of luxury until their work was completely finished.

Allowing herself one quick yawn as she strolled downstairs (given that her fangs could appear quite menacing to those without them), Rouge traced a familiar path to the hotel’s breakfast buffet, planning to fill the gaping void that was currently her stomach.

Her shoes clicked across the tiled floor, irritating her tired ears, and the too-bright lights didn’t do anything to help her overworked senses. She seriously considered just going back upstairs and hiding under the covers for another hour or two, but the smell of pancakes and ripe fruit dragged her over to the long table that held the complementary food from the hotel. 

Filling her paper plate, Rouge began to think again about G.U.N. and the various...unsavory tactics she’d seen them use over the years. Often enough, the soldiers in particular were not above frightening or intimidating those groups of people they saw as ‘threats’ while simultaneously politely cooperating with those that didn’t. While she did her best to distance herself from those kinds of people, filing a complaint would only get you a reprimand or even a hint that you might be fired. No real action was ever taken against those who had joined the force to hurt instead of protect.

She had seen, though, that the commander was definitely trying to make the organization a better place- the raid on Space Colony ARK had clearly left an impression- but that didn’t mean he was succeeding. Over fifty years of brutality, violence, machismo and deceit were not so easily rooted out, not even if the person trying to create change was at the very top. The bat had seen a few too many people being beaten mercilessly by a soldier long after they’d shouted their surrender to think that G.U.N. was all good. Indeed, fighting first and asking questions later was ingrained in the very foundation of the organization.

But whenever Rouge’s mind went down these pathways, there was one thought that always rose above the rest…

While she may have seen what they did, Shadow had lived it.

Rouge sighed, trying to control her violent emotions that always appeared regarding that particular event, and took another pancake. The poor hedgehog had dealt with so much already, and now this...she truly felt for him. They were constantly on the run, always trying to stay ahead of the entire military organization, and despite his status as the ‘Ultimate Lifeform’, she knew that he was struggling. Shadow would insist otherwise, of course, trying to carry the world on his shoulders as he so often did.

She knew better, though.

Rouge glanced upwards to get another look out the window, the general paranoia that came with being a spy too deeply ingrained in her body to ever fade. There were plenty of times when it was just a nuisance, if not embarrassing, but right now those reflexes came in handy.

That was when she saw the five G.U.N. agents talking to the receptionist out front.

She took a deep breath, standing very still at the table. Panic would not help her now. Rouge took two very deliberate, very slow steps to the side, obscuring herself behind a helpfully placed tiered food display. 

The bat caught a snippet of conversation. One of the agents was talking to the man at the front desk, asking, “Have you seen someone matching any of these three descriptions?”

The receptionist frowned, leaning in closer to study the photos, and Rouge decided it was about time to get out of there.

She put her plate down slowly, and then walked purposefully but calmly back to the stairs. Once she was sure that they couldn’t see her any longer, she beat her wings and began to fly up the stairwell as quickly as possible.

Once she got into their room, she slammed the door shut, catching Omega’s attention from where he had been constructing a paper-clip chain. Rouge allowed herself two deep breaths before rushing over to the bed and shaking Shadow’s shoulder with surprising gentleness.

“What do you want?” he mumbled, his eyes only half open.

The bat beat down another wave of nostalgia for relaxing weekend mornings (focus, Rouge, your lives depend on it!) and instead gave him a sad smile.

“They’ve found us.” she said, shattering her teammates’ relative peace in an instant.

Shadow practically catapulted himself out of bed. “G.U.N.? What? When?”

“Yes, five agents, and just now.” Rouge said, beginning to pack up their few belongings.

“What shall we do?” Omega asked, an almost staticky tone creeping into his voice. It had the effect of making him sound rather more dangerous than usual, which was probably intentional. “I would be happy to burn this building to the ground. Just say the word,” he said, revving up his flamethrower.

“No burning.” Rouge said, and it was evident just how used to Omega’s antics she was that this statement was delivered in a completely calm tone of voice. “Here’s what I’m thinking. We split up- there’s only so many of them there. We’ll get out of here any way we know how. Meet up at 9:30 outside that waterskiing shop. Got it?”

“Yes.” Omega and Shadow said simultaneously.

“Alright, good. Omega, take the suitcases. Let’s go.”

She threw herself out the window as Shadow teleported the robot down into a nearby alleyway before vanishing again. Her wings folded tightly against her back as she shot down the side of the building, her fingers nearly skimming across the steel and glass. Rouge forced herself to trust in her wings, snapping them out at the absolute last moment before she could hit the ground and hoping that nobody in any of the rooms had seen much more than a red-and-black blur.

She almost laughed to herself- that used to be Shadow.

Laughing wasn’t something any of them did much anymore.

She stalked through a dark alleyway before rushing down a couple of blocks, trying to get as far away from the hotel as she could on foot without being too suspicious. By now, G.U.N. would have realized that the team did not look like they used to, which would make it a lot more difficult to escape their notice.

Rouge spotted Shadow moving quickly several blocks down, and made an immediate left to stay away from him. There was still over an hour until their rendezvous time, and until then it was best to stay away from one another. A hedgehog and a bat together would only draw the organization’s attention. 

Rouge forced her legs to take one step in front of the other- she had to stay moving. The bat was...a little too used to pushing through exhaustion when simple survival was her only goal. Memories of having to hide after heists, constantly walking to nowhere just to stay away from the police surfaced vaguely in the back of her mind. Rouge was still tired from nights of obsessing and writing and rewriting with Shadow and Omega, and this new stressor wasn’t helping at all, forcing her back into the same introspective cloud that always surrounded her whenever important things started happening.

Yet at the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to feel afraid of what could happen should she get captured. It was almost as though she wasn’t truly awake. She was worried for the rest of the team, it was true, but they were all already in such deep trouble that it almost felt as though she’d maxed out on stress.

As she walked, Rouge wanted to feel something more, some sense of a higher purpose to keep her inspired…

...but when it got down to the basics, change wasn’t always glamorous court battles or powerful arguments delivered to roaring crowds. Sometimes you just had to keep pushing and pushing and pushing until finally someone took notice and listened to what you had to say. It was tiny steps, day by day, almost like trying to grind down a mountain with a single stone. Despite being part of the catalyst, she couldn’t see any of the effects from here.

Was anything even changing? Rouge didn’t know.

She shook her head, trying once again to bury these thoughts in the back of her mind. This was just like a mission. Do the task, then think about the bigger picture afterwards.

The bat briefly wondered if this mentality was why the organization had gone downhill before forcing herself to focus. Right now, she needed to use her instincts. That was all.

…

After an hour, during which she had to hide behind a dumpster (in other circumstances, she would have laughed and called it cliche) to evade G.U.N. pursuit, she met up with the other two at the waterskiing store. Thankfully, Omega had managed to acquire a new car- their old one would have to be left back at the hotel and become more collateral damage, as much as they all wished otherwise.

They’d really liked that car.

Rouge and Shadow piled in, and the bat could only feel relief that Omega didn’t really get tired like they did, so at least there was low danger of someone falling asleep at the wheel. 

“We’re in the final stages now,” Rouge said encouragingly, trying to keep up morale. “Just this last heist to get more dirt on G.U.N., and then we’re free to do as we please…”

Shadow sighed. “I hope.”

“Perhaps…” Omega said cautiously, “...G.U.N. will get so busy with lawsuits that they will cease pursuing us after that. Their public image is...somewhat important.”

He didn’t sound like he believed his own words, though.

Rouge, feeling tired, had to practically beat her nagging thoughts off with a stick by this point. What if they never stop, the voice whispered. What if they just keep coming and coming until you give up because you’re just so tired of running-

“Rouge.” Shadow said quietly. “Are you doing the overthinking thing again?”

“What, hon?” she asked, feeling underequipped to have any conversation, let alone one about herself.

“The thing.” Omega called from the front seat. “Where you insist upon shouldering all of the burden simply because you’re the self-appointed team leader. That is not allowed in this car. At all.”

The bat smiled faintly. Even after all this work and exhaustion, they were still worrying about her. That kind of thoughtfulness was enough to relax her a little, and she leaned on Shadow’s shoulder.

“Let’s talk about stupid stuff for a little while.” she said firmly. “We should talk about something like, like- when we went to that one restaurant and Shadow ate like three bowls of their five-alarm chili in twenty minutes and won that T-shirt.”

Shadow smirked briefly. “It didn’t hurt at all and Sonic and Knuckles yelled at me for being a cheater. Having specially bioengineered taste buds has its perks.”

They reminisced about the good times, all three trying to keep the mood light and not discuss the elephant in the room (or car, as it were)- which was of course when they might be able to do that sort of fun thing again.

And then they were on the highway, and headed to what was hopefully the last place G.U.N. would ever expect them to be.

Central City.

[fuzzbuns]

👀 Please tell us your thoughts on an Ichimatsu and Atsushi friendship when they're adults

Ok so originally I was gonna draw something out because I had a lot I wanted to joke about but haven’t gotten around to it... so!

My ramble (I can not emphasize the ramble part of this sentence enough. this is post is so long I'm so sorry) about Atsushi and Ichimatsu:

So I actually already thought the idea was funny way before the episode with them in it came out. We see in the movie that Atsushi and Ichimatsu are pretty familiar with each other in high school. Atsushi isn’t like directly in Ichimatsu’s friend group but they are seen hanging out in some of the photos/ the obvious karaoke scene. So like off the bat I think it would be funny if Atsushi got to know Todomatsu through Ichimatsu. I have a friend who is an ichi stan so we went back and forth about like different scenarios in which Atsushi is basically stuck babysitting Todomatsu for Ichimatsu and being unsure what to do with him because totty use to be like That. Also, the status of being known as “so-and-sos little sibling” is something I think would really mess with Todomatsu’s sense of self (speaking from experience) which we know he already struggles with and I love to make him suffer <3.

So the thought of them meeting up again after the mixer (to Ichimatsus dismay) and talking things out was already on my mind. But then I really started thinking about it again recently because MY OWN TWIN AND BESTIE decided to gang up on me on my own birthday..... literally sooo evil.  It was really funny even if it was at my expense and I was like “I could see Atsushi and Ichimatsu doing this to totty”. Atsushi seems like the kind of guy who would just go along with whatever evil scheme Ichimatsu is planning either because he has no idea what is going on or because he does and just wants to poke fun at Todomatsu. So I thought about drawing it out but never got around to it.

Then the episode with Atsushi came out and after the original shock of Atsushi Osomatsu san actually being in a skit wore off I was like.... did I manifest Atsushi and Ichimatsu interaction??? wow..... my influence... <3 and then after that I was like.... I really want them to be friends so bad.... it would be so funny....SO

THREE PARAGRAPHS OF BACKSTORY LATER LOL??? let's actually get into it and like disclaimer: I’m gonna be taking a gag anime way too srsly (also gonna touch on the suicide and depression stuff so tw for that)

So as adults I think it's fair to say that Atsushi and Ichimatsu have drifted apart pretty hard. Their only real connection at this point is Todomatsu and Totty doesn’t let his personal life with his family and his public life with his......... “friends” mix. Even at the reunion, we don’t see Ichimatsu wanting to interact with anyone there. When Atsushi shows up, Totty is the only one who really has a reaction. However, I think that the fact Atsushi is still in touch with Totty even after high school (which I can not emphasize enough how hard it must have been for Atsushi... so brave....) shows that he would be more than willing to reconnect with Ichimatsu.

I’m not gonna whip out my Atsushi Osomatsu San conspiracy board (its actually a PowerPoint......... this isn't a joke btw its a real PowerPoint) rn but I feel like it's safe to assume that Atsushi does genuinely like Todomatsu and he does put a lot of effort into being his friend. Todomatsu on the other hand............................ is..... you know..... not a great person LOL. So I think Atsushi approaching Ichimatsu after all these years to talk about Todomatsu is like pretty reasonable. Ichimatsu would probably be really annoyed and uncomfortable because he doesn’t like being reminded of high school or talking to people, especially someone like Atsushi. But I think their personalities would actually go really well together and they would be able to get along and have normal conversations after Ichimatsu gets used to him being around. Plus I think they would really connect over their mutual care for totty (tho I would argue unlike Ichimatsu’s platonic love for his sibling, Atsushi borders on romantic but I can not get into that rn that's what my crazed powerpoint is for... I'm just saying a heterosexual explanation for Atsushi is pushing it). 

So having Todomatsu like be the stepping stone for them to get back in touch I feel like it would also give Atsushi someone to be emotionally vulnerable with. ik the skit with him and ichi as an officer is like..... technically not “canon” but I'm gonna take the liberty of assuming Atsushi is still acting in character (even if exaggerated) because any characterization of Atsushi I can get I will run with. Atsushi probably wouldn't feel comfortable (or like couldn't even if he tried) opening up to Todomatsu about feeling depressed let alone suicidal and I think those are both topics Ichimatsu can deeply relate to and I think it would be sweet if they both had someone to talk about it (maybe with less of Ichimatsus enabling but Atsushi seems to appreciate the dark humor).

With this, we have a pretty good basis for like a friendly relationship (tho they probably don’t meet often because of Atsushi’s busy life and Ichimatsu’s introverted tendencies) but I think the friendship gets funny when Todomatsu is dragged into it because I'm biased Ichimatsu is evil and Atsushi probably thinks its funny. Off the bat, it is gonna annoy Todomatsu to see ichi and Atsushi getting close and Ichimatsu is gonna play it up literally just to piss Todomatsu off. Totty is gonna mention thinking about hanging out with Atsushi and Ichimatsu would be like “oh we are already hanging out that day” which is a lie but it annoys totty and he knows that if he calls Atsushi up and asks him to hang out with him instead of Todomatsu, Atsushi will play along just so he can hear Totty yell at him over the phone. 

I also think it's just funny to picture Atsushi peeking into alleys when he is walking around to see if he can spot Ichimatsu talking to cats. Atsushi just starts casually chatting Ichimatsu up about whatever but Ichimatsu is like “just cut to ‘the chase.... Totty is ghosting you again right?” and Atsushi is just like “.................... yea”. Like the idea of Ichimatsu awkwardly being the middle man between Atsushi and Totty is so funny to me because I feel like he would act annoyed but like secretly he likes knowing what’s going on/ keeping an eye on their relationship. like Ichi tries to understand why Atsushi is so set on being Totty's friend when Totty is the way he is and the more he learns the more he is just like “....... these bitches ga-

at this point, I feel like I have nothing else to really add... just like the mix of genuine friendship for Ichimatsu and Todomatsu outside of the family.... Atsushi having someone to talk to about the things he can’t talk to Todomatsu with....... Todomatsu bullying....... Plus like I do genuinely think that just like how Ichi and Atsushi care about him, Totty in turn does care a lot about his brother and (debatably) Atsushi too so while it would annoy him a little to see Ichimatsu and Atsushi gang up on him I think he would secretly really feel comfort knowing that Ichimatsu made friends and that he thinks Atsushi is a good guy. Totty already knows Atsushi knows him from highschool so there is no point in being overly fake with Atsushi but I feel like that added layer of having Atsushi and Ichi be friends would let him open up a bit more and at the end of the day I'm a Todomatsu stan first, human second so that's all I care about. like at the end of the day I just like atsutodo and I like 110 because atsutodo is objectively funny (and like character development for totty or something ig) and 110 is the best sibling duo so any excuse to have both interact I will take it! 

[mavspeed]

First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Hey @applesfallingfromblondehair, thanks for the tag love!! likewise i dont usually do this but this feels interesting so lets see if my ass has improved over the last few stories lmfkjgjk

also this will prob be a mix of xmcu fic + kingsman fic bc i think i have a more or less equal number of fics written for both

1.

The first time Charles meets Lucifer Morningstar, actual devil from hell, ruler of the underworld, fallen son of the lord above and god knows what else, it had been after Erik had been sentenced to life imprisonment in the highest security cell in the Pentagon. 

- this is from a professor and a devil walk into a bar, which is kinda a crossover rarepair fic that rose out of me and mutuals on twitter discussing tom ellis and james mcavoy being roommates and kinda... devolved from there. i am proud of this one lmfnjgkj

2.

“Are you okay, Professor?” Hank asks quietly.

Charles blinks. He supposes it’s a valid question. He’s been in a bit of a funk the past few days- scratch that actually, the past few years. He’s just lost so much- his father, and then his mother’s love, and then Raven and Erik and Sean and countless others. Building a school, gaining students he loved to teach and nurture hadn’t helped him in the slightest, and he’s as lost as he ever was, wandering the halls of a drafty mansion alone, feeling like he’s been stranded at sea even whilst surrounded by people.

- from in the belly of the beast, which again came out of me wondering what would have happened if fox had gone w their original plan and charles had been that last horseman instead of erik. this story will prob gain a sequel... sometime in the near future when im not too bogged down by current wips

3. 

The Xavier family hall of the deceased- because of course they’re weird enough to have a cemetery- is full of rows upon rows of holograms. Charles is four and gets bored of his father crying over his mother’s hologram, so he toddles over to the other rows. Unfamiliar names, all of them- Charles is young, and he doesn’t understand death. He doesn’t even know who his mother is, who’d died at childbirth and left him with a father still at a loss when it came to bringing up a kid.

- from tequila on a spaceship, the sequel to a fic that still has some people angry at me i think. this fic never did gain as much traction as the first one but im still proud of it esp since it discusses certain themes of reincarnation that ive always wanted to see explored for myself in reincarnation aus (and i only ever saw it in danveresque’s reincarnation au)

4.

There are cork boards covering every inch of the wall. Red strings, photographs, conspiracy threads, everything. Raven takes it in, swallowing, noticing the picture in the middle.

It’s one of Charles, when he’d been in university. His final year- he'd just been done presenting his year- end project, his fringe a tumbled mess and a bright smile on his lips. Erik had taken the picture, Charles scurrying to his side once he’d been done and demanding to look at the image, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. He looks like how Raven had always imagined him to be.

“He wouldn’t want this,” she finally says, turning to look at Erik.

- from tequila on a beach, the first fic to the fic above. this fic is v special to me because i actually wrote this on a spiral after having a very tough visit with one of my parents in the hospital after a surgery for organ removal to prevent the onset of cancer. its simpler than my other fics yet i think more powerful because of what happens. also i think the first time i killed charles off lol (spoiler alert). also idk if ppl were aware of this but this is called tequila on a beach precisely bc charles and erik were tipsy from tequila at a frat party and then went to a beach. its the way they first met (and will continue to meet for all their next lives)

5. 

Erik doesn’t know how it all started. Maybe it was when his insane sergeant had started rambling about imaginary cities, treasures of gold and cursed incantations. Maybe it was when trickles of rumours had started pouring down about the higher ups wanting to investigate unfound territory, disregard the Egyptian government’s feelings on the matter, and put a previously unfound myth on the map for all the world to see. Or maybe, Erik thinks, it was when archaeologist Klaus Schmidt put a bullet through his mother’s head and he ended up going to America armed with dual citizenship and the sole intent of wanting to drive a coin directly between Schmidt’s eyes, joining a division of the American military focused solely on guarding archaeological digs- more importantly, in Egypt, where Schmidt’s interest had shifted.

- from courting the end of the world, another one i’m just insanely proud of! this is the first time i’ve ever attempted a multichapter movie au and it actually managed to work pretty well, i at least haven’t run out of inspiration for it yet lmfjgjg. also erik as himbo rick connell... very rent free in my head

6. 

The day after they murder Shaw and leave his house of horrors, Erik crosses the Canadian border with Charles across his back. Charles had started getting tired while they’d been walking, stumbling and nearly tripping until Erik had forced him to get on his back, ignoring Charles’ protests.

The blood’s seeping out steadily from Charles’ nose, staining his shirt and soaking it through. It’s been leaking on and off, and the effects are already obvious in the dark circles beneath Charles’ eyes. Any more, and Erik knows they’ll have to find him a doctor. He hopes the nearest town in Canada has one that would be willing to treat them.

- from a world built for two. i actually dk where the inspiration for this came from, i think i was once again on a depressive spiral and wanted to break my comfort characters into pieces and put them together again. this also deals with codependency and unhealthy coping mechanisms as a result of trauma which i showed as sweet in the fic but i would def not recommend in real life. pls if u relate to either charles or erik in this go see a therapist

7. 

The call comes in the afternoon, an hour before Charles is supposed to teach his Intro to Genetics class. Frowning, Charles abandons the game of Candy Crush he’d admittedly been playing rather badly and picks it up. “Charles sp-”

“We need you, Prof,” Kitty says desperately into the phone. “He’s been in a temper all morning, and then Alex’s reports missed out a whole subsection, so he’s fired the entire marketing team! Please, Professor, you have to come immediately!”

- from and we can be pirates. i wrote this in like 4 seconds for my friend who wanted professor charles and ceo erik and actually did not expect this to gain the attention it did... its always the fics u write in like 4 seconds lmfjggj. a sequel for this Is coming too probably at some point in the very far future

8. 

Charles Xavier can admit as he sits across from Essex, hands cuffed to the desk, that in hindsight, this had perhaps not been one of his better ideas.

He refuses to admit it as he controls Erik’s mind, preventing him from lashing out and making him close his eyes to the nightmare unfolding in front of him. He refuses to admit it as he gets shoved into the back of a black pickup truck, and the butt of a gun is smashed across his forehead hard enough to knock him out cold for a few hours. He refuses to admit it when he wakes up what appears to be hours later in a cold interrogation room, hands cuffed to the table in front of him, with a suppression collar rendering his mind dark and almost achingly silent.

- from from the land of gods (bring me home). i’ve been struggling w this fic a lot (it didnt come as easily to me as the first one did) but its getting there. also i put charles through hell in this rip sorry mister xavier

9.

In the aftermath, both of them stand at the border of the mansion. The air feels frigid, slicing into Raven’s lungs like a thousand paper cuts. “Charles, please,” she begs, heart in her throat and voice hoarse. “He wouldn’t want you to be like this. He wouldn’t want you to do this. It’s not too late, you can come back.”

Charles gazes back, a brick wall. He hasn’t even cleaned up, still in that damnable yellow and blue suit with blood drying in the corners of his mouth, the bridge of his nose. There’s nothing in his eyes- blank, almost see through. He looks as if he’s a mere shade, a ghost lounging about where he once was. Raven knows better.

“I will raze the world to the ground,” he finally says, his voice free of any inflection, “and when I’m done, no one will be left standing. Not you, and certainly not me.”

- from where all the poets went to die, a dark fic based on what would have happened if moira had killed erik with the bullets. its the first time ive written dark charles and it was v fun if im being honest

10. 

Charles is a light sleeper. It’s a trait that stays with him- all the way from his father and the tests to taking care of his mother to Cain Marko and his fists to Cuba and then now, the dust of Washington settling over him and making the waking world lie an inch beyond his eyelids. It therefore stands to reason that the second the windowsill creaks he’s up in a shot, hoisting himself up and lashing out with his telepathy instantly.

That’s not a trait that had stayed with him. That’s a newly formed trait, bitter and bold, carved into existence by Cuba by his students disappearing one by one in Vietnam by the letters that announce Sean’s death in black unfriendly print by-

The tendrils of his telepathy forged cold and distant meet a barrier and recoil, stunned. He focuses his eyes and then widens them, staring at Erik who stares back, hidden beneath that infernal muddied magenta helmet of his. They stare at each other for a moment before Erik clears his throat.

- from in the valley of kings (you will come home). my first ever cherik fic! im actually also proud of this one even if i ended it horribly and half my mutuals refuse to read it bc of how it ended LMFJGJGJ. i cant believe this was supposed to be a funny and cute kid fic and then i turned it into an angst ridden mess. also leo is actually an oc whose adult version is fancasted as charlie rowe by me and another mutual on twitter and im v proud that readers are willing to die for the baby

11. 

Mike has to google it, finding a crafts shop nestled into the corner of the street right smack in the middle of Louisiana, past a long and winding dirt road and the crumbling farmhouses relics of a time long past. The air is hot, humid, sticking to the back of his neck like an unwieldy parasite as he pushes the door of the shop open to the sound of the bell tinkling above.

He finds the origami paper quickly enough and has a momentary breakdown about what Bill’s favourite colour even is- he had never thought to ask him. Twenty seven years of following every single footstep of his like a dedicated, most definitely creepy stalker, three months of more than a few states traversed with Bill’s laughter now echoing in his ears like a shadow that trails after him, and this is what stumps him. It takes ten minutes, but he finally settles on light green.

- my first and last entry into the IT fandom bc i love these two but to be very fair there isn’t much content out there for him (and twitter content actually intimidates me lmfjgjjg) a thousand paper cranes never got much traction either but i suspect its bc i was horrible at promoting it. also i very much love this fic even if it never did that well bc ive always wanted to write a fic like this after watching the movie in cinemas in 2019

12.

ok nsfw i guess 

Mornings start like this- Eggsy snuffling into David’s neck, attempting to work his way back up to wakefulness as David sleeps the sleep of the dead, the streams of morning sunlight gradually lightening up the room. It’s a while before he gets the energy to sit up, pushing an eager V off the bed- V for Vendetta, a kitten named after one of David’s favourite movies that they’d adopted about a month after moving in together- before stumbling to the loo. He’s already in the shower when David comes in, naked as the day he’s born with his arms entwining themselves around Eggsy’s waist as he murmurs a sleep-soft, “Good morning, love,” as he presses a kiss into the two-days-old hickey on Eggsy’s shoulder. His breath smells of toothpaste, the minty fresh kind he insists on buying from Target no matter how much Eggsy insists that the other brand is much better. Without fail, Eggsy always has a split second thought of thinking that he must truly be in heaven because no way can this be his reality, every single day, before sinking to his knees and allowing David’s cock to hit the back of his throat.

- from that’s the kind of love i’ve been dreaming of. i genuinely wish i had an opinion for this but i don’t remember writing this its been way too long

13. 

The first time Eggsy sees her is in Trafalgar Square.

Trafalgar Square is uncomfortably packed on any normal day, but on New Year’s it is quite the hothouse. Sweating armpits and hot bodies plastered against each other, the twinkling lights overhead providing a flash of blue and green and yellow and red, screaming children and giggling teenagers shoving their way through- it’s a recipe for disaster. Eggsy doesn’t know how he ends up there. It happens sometimes- one second he blinks, sequestered in the comfort of his living room, and the next he’s somewhere else, as if he’s been teleported. “Life goes past you,” Tilde had said once, “and you don’t even notice.” Tilde would be right.

- this is a roxy and eggsy friendship centric fic that i abandoned bc i lost my ardor for this world about the same time i got into xmen lmfjgjg. all the king’s horses also had some great fancasts in it with dev patel fancasted too... rip ig

14. 

once again, nsfw

Eggsy, truth be told, doesn’t actually like having sex in bathrooms. First of all, bathrooms generally have an unsanitary air about them. Besides that, the granite of the sinks always feel cold against his hips, there is the ever present fear of being walked in on and unlike what people might say, he actually really isn’t that much of an exhibitionist- and truth be told, he’s never liked the look of himself in the mirror mid coitus.

For David Budd, however, he suspects he might be up for anything.

- from do you ever dream of me. im actually proud of this fic and this series, i never usually write straight up porn or friends w benefits and i think it worked well in here. once again didnt get much traction but that was very of the norm for my kingsman fics lmfjgj

15.

It is on his fifth meeting with the therapist on site that she brings the issue up. The elephant in the room- or the bomb , David thinks morbidly. If asked, he can’t remember specifics about that day now. All he remembers is this- the burn of Julia’s picture in his wallet against his thigh, the Botticelli painting on the far wall and Miss Paulson’s face, severe and unsmiling.

“When you couldn’t reach Julia,” she says, after he finishes describing the feeling of running to Julia, the panic searing his chest as he’d prayed for his legs to work faster so he could do something, anything to reach her hand. “How did that make you feel?”

- from your haunted social scene. i genuinely... do not remember anything about this either helpfkjgjg,,, this has 55 comments tho which. Nice

16.

David brings her home on- in a move far too cliche for it to be reality- a stormy night. It’s in fact storming so hard the windowpanes shudder like leaves in the wind, droplets crashing against the glass in a cacophony so loud Eggsy more than once considers turning the radio all the way up to drown it out. He’d gone scrounging for David’s sweatshirts instead of his own halfway through, wincing intermittently at the flashes of thunder. At a particularly loud one JB had jumped up, squeaked in a very undoglike manner and skidded across the floor to cower beneath the sofa, only coming out when coaxed by Eggsy to do so. Officer Oatmeal had watched the proceedings from her regal place by the armchair, dozy eyed and blinking heavily.

- from a cat named lavender. from what i remember this was also my first try at bringing up trans eggsy

17.

He first appears at the black prince on a cold Monday evening, eyes like Frank Sinatra and lips arresting anyone’s gaze if they weren’t careful enough. He stood out too, clad in a respectable bomber jacket and boots that clicked against the tile rhythmically and loudly, a sort of organised, measured cacophony.

“Go and serve him,” Andrew said, fat and disinterested, seated behind the counter and idly flicking through bills, less than ten percent of which he pays Eggsy. “I’m busy.”

- from trust is left in lovers after all. i never continued this which is sad bc this did get a lot of attention... it was just v hard to keep the story going

18.

It usually rains cats and dogs in London but for some reason, the rain is heavier than usual today. The droplets splatter against the windows in a constant buzzing rhythm, the sound meshing together in a melody not altogether pleasant to the ears. It’s half past five and yet the light has to be kept on because that’s how dark the sky has gotten- thunder rolls like a loud crack, abrupt and deafening, causing Daisy to jump in her seat.

“Just a thunderstorm, flower,” Eggsy says. They’re seated at the dinner table, Eggsy going over her homework while David sits opposite them, hunched over his laptop as he attempts to finish a post mission report. Eggsy is half convinced he gave up ten minutes ago- he’s got his earbuds in and he hasn’t really typed anything in a while, eyes focused on the screen. His eyebrows are scrunched up in a glare that’s too adorable for his own good- and for Eggsy’s.

- from could feel like kryptonite. a lot of my kingsman fics are actually so much happier than my cherik ones... i should prob look into that rip

19.

“When you’re done lazing around you can come in, you dozy dog,” he tells Officer Oatmeal, who butts her nose into his knee. She’s the only one not on a diet in the house, Eggsy deeming her far too healthy and skinny to need one anyway. In fact, she’s under strict instructions by Eggsy to fatten up instead.

Once the animals are done feeding- Eggsy sporting a suspicious scratch on his left forearm- they settle down to eat their scrambled eggs and toast. David’s taken a large gulp of his scalding coffee when Eggsy says, all of a sudden, “So, I have a school reunion.”

- from gonna set this dance alight. don’t remember much about this either tbh

20. (the last one FINALLY)

It isn’t a big event or explosion that makes David realise he wants to see his father’s ring sitting pretty on Eggsy’s index finger. No teary confessions in the rain like in the rom coms Eggsy loves to rent out and sniffle his way through, or a fight that makes David see sense. In the end, it’s breakfast that cinches the deal for him.

The day had started out normally enough. David wakes up at eight like clockwork, the soft downy hair at the base of Eggsy’s neck tickling his nose with his arm locked tight around his waist. He’d yawned, exhausted- mostly because they’d stayed up very late into the night making good use of the bed- before standing up and shucking his shirt off to head for the shower. Eggsy had shifted in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, and the sight had been too endearing to resist so he’d bent down, pressing a kiss to his forehead and smiling when Eggsy groaned out loud.

- from lover boy rules. i actually started a lot of my kingsman fics in the same way which is rather awful of me. im glad thats changed with my xmen fics lmfjgjk. also this has 15 comments???? i dont even get that much attention with my xmcu fics these days... which is arguably a more active fandom... Hello

anyway that’s the end of it needless to say i do not know 10 other authors so im just gonna tag whoever i know rn: @hellfre , @queerneto, @ikeracity, @drinkingstars, @zebraljb

[just-writing-things]

Once a triplet

A collaboration between me and @the-writer-girl-nerd

Follow my main blog

@multifandom-miracle

It had been a quiet day in Duckburg, which was not a good thing. It meant the other shoe was going to fall. It meant something was going to happen. Something bad. Something… Dangerous. And sure, the rest of his family thrived on danger, but for Louie, he would prefer a little less catastrophe. So, even though it should have been a quiet, lazy Saturday, he was anxious. Waiting for something to go wrong.

Then the question, posed by Della, “Where’s Huey?” The other shoe fell.

Dewey shrugged as his other brother joined him and their mom in the foyer of Scrooge’s mansion.

“Probably organizing his Junior Woodchuck guidebooks in alphabetical order or something.” Dewey guessed as he headed towards the stairs to grab his video camera from their room.

Louie waved off Della’s comment as well, following Dewey upstairs and cornering him when they were alone.

“Should we maybe worry about where Huey is? Maybe something is going on?” He didn’t want to jump to conclusions or start panicking immediately, but it had been so quiet. And quiet never ended well.

“Why?” Dewey asked, pushing the door to their room open. “I’m sure he’s…..”

Dewey stopped in his tracks. The room was a mess, books and comics all over the floor, the blankets untucked, and a picture of the Duck family on the floor, the frame cracked and splintered.

“Fine?” Dewey finished, a warble of uncertainty in his voice. He didn’t notice Huey’s hat, crumpled on the floor, no sign of its wearer in sight.

“Yeah,” Louie said, eyes wide and horrified, picking up the hat and waving it in the air, “I’m sure he’s fine.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, masking the fear.

Dewey took the hat from his brother. “Huey never goes anywhere without this! Where do you think he is?”

“If I had any idea where Huey was then we would already be there, looking for him! The only one who has any idea where Huey is is Huey.” Louie went to the closet and pulled down Huey’s conspiracy board, a few red threads hanging loose. He studied the board a little longer and made a guess.

“Uh, maybe the marina? Or the Beagle Boys’ hideout. Or maybe Funzo’s. I could be, might be… Definitely, probably am wrong…” He doubted himself more when he was anxious, and this definitely made him anxious. His brother could be seriously hurt or worse.

“Hey, don’t panic. We’ll find him!” Dewey reassured his brother enthusiastically. Actually, Dewey was just as anxious as his younger brother was, though he didn’t like to show it.

“Find who?” Another bright voice asked, making the two boys jump. Webby rocked back and forth on the heels of her feet, clasping her hands behind her excitedly with stars in her eyes, ready for another adventure.

“Huey is missing. The room is a wreck and nothing is okay,” Louie said, “And we can’t tell Mom or Uncle Donald because they’d freak out.”

“Wait, what? Wouldn’t they want to help find him?” Webby stopped bouncing, a confused look on her face.

“I just… If we can’t find him today, we’ll let them know,.” Louie suggested.

“Oh. Okay, well let’s get searching!” Webby said gleefully as she skipped into the hallway, the boys following behind.

Louie had a feeling she didn’t get it. Huey was missing. Someone had probably taken him, there had certainly been some sort of struggle. That wasn’t something gleeful. He was glum and quiet as he walked behind her.

Dewey noticed the trudge in his brother’s steps and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, a light squeeze reassuring him that they would do this together. “Hey, Webs?” Dewey called down the hall to the bubbly, pink dressed girl.

“This is kind of serious, I mean...Huey might have been kidnapped. This isn’t just another adventure, it could be super dangerous!”

“Oh,” Webby said, “good point.” She sobered up, looking between the brothers.

“But don’t worry, guys! We’ll find him. Even if something bad happened, it’ll turn out okay.”

“Thanks, Webby.” Louie said quietly.

The three ventured off towards Funzo’s Fun Zone. (Where fun is in the zone!)

When they arrived, the place seemed….quieter than usual. It was strange, especially for a Saturday. Not a single server looked their way as the kids made their way to a back table. Louie began to make a flattering comment to a waitress passing by, but she scurried away, squeaking in nervousness.

"This place is dead," Louie muttered, "Something is wrong here. Maybe that's why Huey…" Nothing could happen to his brother. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to Huey. Maybe everything would be fine but his mind rushed to worst-case scenarios. He thought about someone hurting Huey, or worse, and he just felt sick. Huey was his brother and Louie would die to protect him if he had to.

Webby glanced back at the boys, and for the first time, really noticed the grave and anxious look on Louie’s face.

“Hey, Lou?”

The young duck wasn’t paying much attention. He was too nervous, thinking about whatever could have happened to his oldest brother.

“Louie?”

Louie's head snapped up and he tried to fake a look of, well not confidence but apathy, and yet he couldn't shake his nerves.

"What's up, Webby?"

“You don’t…..”

Webby tried to choose her next words carefully.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right?” she spoke timidly.

Dewey stopped in his tracks.

“Wait, Louie...do you really think that?”

Louie covered his face with one hand.

"No! Of course not! It's just you know if we, if I were a better brother maybe Huey would be with us and not somewhere super dangerous maybe getting chopped into little pieces." Louie should’ve been paying more attention to Huey, then he would know what was happening. He felt incredibly guilty for seeming apathetic in the past about what happened to his brothers. He cared so much and maybe if he had shown that Huey wouldn’t have disappeared alone.

Webby and Dewey looked at each other, not quite sure how to respond to that.

Dewey put a hand on his youngest brother’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Webby did the same.

“This isn’t going to be like....well like when Mom first came back.” Dewey knew that would strike a nerve, but bringing it up even made him wince. He tried to recover his statement, though not very well.

“And that time you were the richest duck in the-”

"Alright, I get it, you don’t have to remind me of every mistake I ever made, I don't want to dwell on my past mistakes right now but I'm serious. Huey is missing. It's not my fault, maybe, but I still should've been able to do something and I can't."

“You just gotta look for the right angles, c’mon!” Dewey shook his brother back and forth vigorously. “You can do- I mean dewey it!” the blue triplet chuckled to himself.

Louie removed himself from his brother's grip.

“Alright, let’s see. Angles, angles…" He looked around Funzo's.

"Hmmm…"

Louie scanned the zone, looking for each possibility between the workers, the kitchen, the arcade, and the playground, for any pesky foes sneaking around.

He snapped his fingers.

“Okay, Here’s the plan. Webs, check the arcade, ship, and ball pit. Pay close attention to the scores of that one pattern game Huey likes to beat everyone at when we come here.”

“Got it,” Webby gave a thumbs up and rushed into the arcade.

“Dewey, ask the staff members if they’ve seen Huey, or anyone suspicious. Try to check the kitchen, see if anything weird is going on in there.”

“On it!” Dewey replied, slicking a hand over his head, and strutting over towards the tables, singing a beat of “Dewey-dewey-dew” to himself.

Louie stood alone then, looking around, whispering to himself, "And Louie-" He didn't get to give himself a task before he was picked up by his hood and spun around by Ma Beagle.

"The green one! I saw him come in with the blue and pink one, too.” Big Time Beagle snickered, rubbing his hands together in evil delight.

“Where are they?" Ma Beagle asked, squinting and looking around.

"Where's Huey?" Louie squeaked, struggling against Ma Beagle's hold.

"You're not the one who gets to ask questions.” Ma Beagle growled. “Boys, find the other two."

Bouncer headed off towards the arcade, Webby just on the other side of the wall. Burger chased after Dewey, right into the kitchen.

“What about me Ma?” Big Time asked impatiently, twiddling his thumbs with an antsy grin.

Ma Beagle rolled her eyes. She knew better than to leave the little green brat alone with her son, as previous events proved Big Time unworthy of the job. She sighed, and rubbed her temple in aggravation.

A loud crash in the kitchen grabbed their attention before Ma Beagle could scold her son. Dewey rolled out of the kitchen, landing flat on his face. He was just about to jump up and make a run for it, but Burger tripped out of the doors, his face covered in pizza sauce and soda. He landed right on the young duck, trapping him.

Ma Beagle smirked, pushing her son off Dewey and grabbing him.

“That’s two!” She snarled, as both boys struggled in her grasp.

“Seriously? The Beagle boys?” Dewey rolled his eyes.

“We’re not up to anything!” Louie desperately tried to lie, "You’re just paranoid because you're old." He got slapped.

“Hey! Don’t treat my brother that wa-” Ma Beagle held Dewey’s beak shut. Dewey tried to signal to Louie, now afraid for both of them. Hopefully Webby wouldn’t get caught and would go get help.

“Quit your yapping!” Ma Beagle snapped.

"Let us go!" Louie fought until he was tied up, his beak also held shut.

The two triplets struggled against the ropes furiously. Dewey’s eyes widened as he looked around, trying to figure out where they were. This place seemed familiar, though he couldn’t remember why. His breath hitched as they were tied up and left in the dark. The middle child wasn’t particularly fond of the dark, especially after the events at Castle McDuck.

Louie began to cry quietly without meaning to, and his tearful state only worsened when Webby was thrown in beside them, also tied up. He'd failed. He was useless and he'd failed. Now his whole family was in danger because he hadn't been able to talk their way out of the problem. This was all his fault.

Dewey noticed his youngest brother’s silent cry. His chest ached, wishing he could help, wishing that he could comfort him, that he could do something to make Louie believe in himself. He had no idea where to go from here. Even worse, no one knew where they were. The thought of never seeing Uncle Scrooge, Uncle Donald, Launchpad, Huey or his mom ever again made him sick. Why hadn’t they told one of the adults? Dewey felt foolish for thinking they could handle this on their own.

That had been Louie's fault too, his call, his decision, and he was arrogant for making it. To think that they could handle this on their own, save Huey on their own, was idiotic. Louie was good at faking confidence. Somehow, this time, he’d pulled his brother and Webby along and now they were all in terrible danger. He glanced at Webby to see if she could get them out of this but she appeared unconscious, no doubt having given whatever unsuspecting Beagle Boy that had grabbed her one doozy of a fight. Louie panicked when he saw that she was hurt and flinched and fought hard against the bindings, finally giving up and hanging his head, ready to succumb to their demise.

Then he heard a familiar voice. A wonderfully familiar voice.

"The boss said I could take over from here." Huey sounded so confident that the Beagle boys standing guard believed him, until they turned around and saw the red triplet. It didn't matter, though, because Huey shot them each with a tranquilizer gun.

"I don't exactly know what you three are doing here but let's try and get going before someone comes looking for us." Huey untied his brothers and was pulled into a big hug, first by Louie, then by Dewey. Louie only cried harder, this time from relief, as he held onto Huey.

“Whoa, Louie, it’s alright! I’m okay, guys.” Huey squeezed his brothers tightly.

“What the heck happened to you?” Dewey asked, irritated at first, but overwhelmed with relief that his brother wasn’t hurt. “We thought you were kidnapped! Or worse!”

The boys jumped as they heard a groan from Webby, who was still a bit woozy from the fight.

"Well," Huey said slowly, "I was. But, sort of on purpose. I set a trap, trying to get into F.O.W.L. You guys would never believe what I've found but-" Huey looked around nervously, "That's for another time. Webby, hang on to us, we've got to run.”

"You couldn't have left a note?!" Louie hissed.

"I did. Did you guys not find it?" Louie facepalmed. They could have avoided this whole thing by looking harder for a note? He could hardly believe it. Another consequence of just rushing in, of pretending to be confident without stopping to think first. He wiped the tears out of his eyes as they ran, not knowing what to do anymore.

“Uh no?! Obviously not!” Dewey groaned, trying his best to hang on to Webby and keep up with his brothers at the same time. Huey gave an exasperated sigh.

"Don't sigh like that," Louie snapped, "we came here to save you. It's not our fault that you ended up saving us."

“Well it’s not my fault you guys got captured either!” Huey shot back. That was like a slap in the face to Louie. He bit back tears and was ready to make another sharp remark towards Huey when the boys’ exit was blocked by a large rooster with a sharp beak made out of metal.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Louie looked around.

"Huey, I don't think we're in the ball pit at Funzo's anymore." Playing dumb worked about 50% of the time.

“You’re darn right! You’re in Steelbeak’s house now!” The villain cackled.

"This is your house? It's nice but we shouldn't be here. Our Uncle says we're not really supposed to talk to strangers and we're really not supposed to be in your house, so it's really nice to meet you, Mr. Steelbeak, sir, but we’ve got to get going!" Louie saluted the villain and tried to walk out, acting fully confident.

Huey resisted the urge to facepalm, and tried to play along.

“Um, yeah, according to the JWG, 46% of kidnappings happen by talking to strangers, so...bye!” Huey ducked under Steelbeak’s arm, making a run for it, and Louie and Webby, who had recovered save for a bit of a bruised knee and a few scratches, followed suit.

Dewey however….

“Wait a minute, aren’t you from the Double O Duck simulation game? But how did you-”

"Dewey come on, we can't talk to strangers!" Louie called, ducking in long enough to grab his brother and drag him away. After that, there was no looking back.

The kids sped towards the bus stop, catching the bus right before the doors shut.

Dewey and Webby watched through the back window as Steelbeak tried to run after them, but was stopped by… Well, they weren’t sure who, but Webby could’ve sworn it was Gandra.

The young ducks slowly climbed the front steps of the mansion, trying to catch their breath.

"You can't just disappear like that," Louie said suddenly, turning on Huey, "We were worried sick. I thought you might be dead!"

“Yeah, but I’m not. I can’t believe you didn’t see the note! I left it on your daily can of Pep!” Huey crossed his arms as they entered the foyer.

"I didn't see it! I didn't drink Pep today, is that a freaking crime? You should've told us you were gonna go try to be the hero!"

"I didn't try to be the hero, I am. I saved all of you from something that could've been avoided if you'd just tried a little harder to find my note!" Huey spat back.

Louie threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Why did we even try to save you?" But once the words were out of his mouth he regretted them.

"I'm sorry. Huey, I don't mean that, just… You've got to understand that we were really worried. We lost mom once. I can't lose you too."

Huey stepped back, a strange combination of hurt, guilt, and surprise weighing him down. He clenched his fists.

“Do you think I wasn’t worried? When I saw that you guys had been kidnapped? At least I can take responsibility for my actions!” Huey had never been this angry before.

“Alright, both of you just chill out!” Dewey exclaimed, stepping between his brothers.

Huey stepped back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” he said quietly, barely glancing at Louie and opting to stare at the floor instead.

"I said I was sorry," Louie muttered, crossing his arms and hugging himself, "I thought we were doing the right thing, going after you. I'm sorry we didn't find your note. I'm sorry we worried you. Whatever. I'm sorry." He sounded bitter, still, turning and heading upstairs to their trashed room. They'd nearly lost Huey. Louie had already been feeling like a failure. Huey had just made it worse.

Huey groaned and ran a hand through his hair out of frustration.

“After all I do for him,” he muttered.

“Whoa hang on a minute,” Dewey grabbed his older brother’s arm before he could walk off.

“That was a bit harsh Hue.” Webby nodded.

“Louie was doing his best. He did get us past Steelbeak after all. We might not have made it home at all if it wasn’t for Louie. We were trying to help you. And after what happened with mom? Don’t you remember what that felt like?”

Huey stopped. He crossed his arms and nodded solemnly. When they found out what had happened to their mom....Well, he didn’t show it, but Huey had taken it pretty hard. He found it more difficult to trust people, even his own family. He became more independent. And when their mother returned, all he wanted to do was prove himself. He was just as good at solving mysteries as his brothers. Even though he couldn’t always talk his way out of situations. Not like Louie could.

“I….I didn’t think about it like that. I’m sorry Dewey.” The brothers hugged. Dewey punched his older brother lightheartedly on the shoulder.

“Thanks, but I’m not the only one you need to say sorry to.”

Huey nodded and looked towards the staircase that led up to their room.

Louie was sitting in his room, on his bed, playing with an old toy truck he'd gotten as a little kid. It was one of the few toys he'd had growing up that was his alone. Everything else he'd shared with his brothers, and not just toys, worries, heartbreaks, happiness. They went through all of it together. He understood Huey wanting to prove himself but after everything that they had been through, he couldn't help worry that he was losing his brother. And if he wasn't losing Huey to some secret organization, then maybe he was losing Huey to growing up and growing apart, and that scared him even more.

A knock on the door drew him from his thoughts. Huey gave a sympathetic smile as he entered, rubbing the back of his neck and plucking his hat from the ground.

“Hey Louie.”

Louie didn’t say anything.

Huey stepped over a pile of books and comics that had half-heartedly been pushed out of the way of the triple bunk. He took a breath, staring at his feet and fidgeting with his hands.

“Look, I need to apologize. I’m sorry I made you worried. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was doing. I’m sorry I assumed you would be able to follow my plan without any explanation.” Huey paused, and looked up at Louie.

But most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t see how much I needed you before.”

Louie looked up in shock.

"You… I… What? I failed you. I didn't see your note, I let the others get captured, hurt even, I couldn't protect them or you. You don't need me…"

“What are you talking about? Louie, of course I need you! If I had brought you with me, maybe I could have avoided getting you guys captured in the first place. I can’t do everything you can, you’re the only person I know who can act dumber than the bad guys and still outsmart them!” Huey seated himself next to his youngest brother, gently putting his arm around Louie.

“You’re my brother, I’m always gonna need you.”

Louie smiled a little, leaning into the hug, "Thank you. I'm always going to need you too."

“Awww guys!” Dewey jumped onto Louie’s bed with arms spread wide, knocking the triplets over. The three laughed, with an unspoken promise to never abandon each other again, and the knowledge that they would always be there for each other.

[its-pronounced-quoassoint]

Power Rangers AU-Chapter 5

Pairings: romantic Logicality, Prinxiety, Demus, Remile

This Chapter Features: Remus centric storyline-ish, lots of exposition, think of it as a filler episode I guess

This Chapter Warnings: brief angst, mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of Mountian Dew, talks about Reddie fanfiction, sympathetic Deceit and Remus

Credit for this AU goes to @when-day-met-the-knight (specifically this post)

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this fic please let me know in reply!

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Chapter 5-Downright

Remus was sick of going through the whole 'this-is-who-we're-fighting-and-a-boring-explanation' speech. The first time was bad enough. He was so unbelievably bored. How could anyone sit there and listen to Thomas talk on and on like that. The second time was a little entertaining because Roman liked to add his little spin and Thomas didn't appreciate it as much as Roman thought he did. The third time was no fun at all. Patton, though he knew about the fight a decade ago that had ended with only one Ranger surviving, he still didn't exactly know who this new 'Prince Virgilius' was.

Now, it was the fourth time around and Remus felt he could recite it to Dee himself without any help. He didn't want to do that because he was still pissed at Dee-leave it to Remus to hold grudges-but he still could explain it by memory nonetheless.

"The Dragon Witch." Thomas began.

The Rangers plus Thomas were sat in Thomas's basement that doubled as a little hideout for the Rangers. It was decorated like an old 90's dream club house. Patton and Roman sat in paw print patterned bean bags, sharing a chocolate bar. Logan stood at his conspiracy wall-he didn't call it that, but Remus knew all too well it was a conspiracy wall. And Dee was sat down on the pink inflatable couch.

"She began her attack on Earth hundreds of years ago. This you know from your average history class. Back then Power Rangers were all over the globe. Essentially one Ranger per continent. Though Antarctica didn't quite need to be covered."

"No one messes with penguins!" Patton chimed in goofily. This got a laugh out of Roman and a small smile from Thomas.

"Then the Power Rangers disappeared for a century. No explanation, no help for the public, nothing." Thomas tried to continue.

"The Red Century." Logan said plainly from where he stood.

"Yes. That's when the Red Century began. The Red Century however, abruptly ended when the Dragon Witch pulled her armies and stopped her attack all together." Thomas stated. "That was until the early 1900s when she began to specifically attack America. Then centralizing Florida, then our town. We didn't quite know why, until the Rangers of the 30s began to fight back."

"Since then, the Rangers have been chosen from generation to generation." Thomas moved over to stand by Logan's timeline. "A little over 20 years ago, my friends and I became the Rangers you knew as a child."

"Valerie, Red Ranger. Dominic, Green Ranger. Terrence, Yellow Ranger. Joan, Blue Ranger. Talyn, Pink Ranger. And Thomas, the Black Ranger." Logan pointed to pictures of each of the Rangers as he says their name.

"Until ten years ago, when, uhm-" Thomas's voice wavered.Remus saw him look to Patton who gave a small smile and turned to Dee, getting out of his bean bag and walking to the fridge by Logan's conspiracy board.

"Do you remember ten years ago when the Rangers disappeared?" Patton asked. "Everyone thought the Red Century was starting again."

"Of course. It was chaos," Dee sat back on the couch. "until the Black Ranger, or Thomas I guess, started fighting again."

"I was in recovery for a few months after we battled the Dragon Witch herself. The others didn't uh. . . di-didn't make it. I was the only Ranger until, well Roman and Remus." Thomas gestured to the twins.

Dee was avoiding Remus's eye. It was so deliberate Remus just wanted to shout 'You're really bad at this! It's so pathetic you're making me feel sorry for you. Just say something! Coward.'

"And now I'm-" Dee took a breath. "The Yellow Ranger."

"Whoop!!" Patton raised a Mountain Dew from the fridge in the air in a cheer.

"Mountain Dew?" Logan asked. "Should you be drinking that, when was the last time the drinks in there were replenished?"

"I'm sorry, but Mountain Dew from forever ago? Does there happen to be any red Mountain Dew in there?"

"Is this another The Prom reference?" Logan asked in an annoyed tone.

"No, Be More Chill, but good for you, guessing a Broadway show." Roman smiled.

"Well you don't talk about much other than Broadway so one can only assume." Logan mumbled and turned back to the board.

"What else in the world is worth talking about?!" Roman exclaimed. "Other than Lizzo and/or Zendaya."

"Cheers to that!" Patton lightly threw a Red Mountain Dew to Roman who missed the catch but snatched it off the floor with a bit of a deflated look.

"And this, Prince, that we're fighting he-"

"Prince Virgilius. He started leading the Dragon Witch's armies two years ago. I'm honestly not sure where he came from or what his true powers are. The teleportation has been something he's always had, but the fire, is new as of a few months ago." Thomas informed him.

"So far, no idea as to where he came from-"

"Where he'll go!" Roman cut in.

"Where he's come from Cotton Eye Joe." Patton finished.

"I feel this should be a more serious discussion." Logan said plainly to Thomas.

"Lo-Lo, we're sitting on inflatable furniture in a decked out, early 90s, fever dream." Remus pointed out. "You're not gonna get serious while down here. Throw me a soda Pat?"

"Please never call me that." Logan rolled his eyes.

Patton chuckled and threw a Mountain Dew to Remus. His ability to catch was no better than Roman's, so the soda hit him in the chest as his arms fumbled to catch it.

"Sorry Remus." Patton recoiled and apologized.

"How are you guys Power Rangers? You can't catch a thing! At least Patton can throw." Dee scoffed.

"Dee, please, we're gay, we can't catch for anything." Roman sighed.

"Bet! I can catch hands!" Remus opened his soda and took a long sip.

"Alright bet!" Roman stood.

"Well this isn't a very hero-like conversation." Emile giggled from the stairs.

"What are you doing down here? You shouldn't be listening to this." Thomas crosses his arms.

"Yeah well, you're all loud." Emile stated cheerfully. "Besides, I don't see why I can't listen. I already know everything."

"It's true he does." Patton shrugged. "However, Emile, you shouldn't really have to worry about any of this."

"You knew all of this when you were younger than me." Emile argued.

"Yeah, um, how's that?" Dee asked.

Patton walked back to his bean bag and sat down. "Talyn was my adoptive parent. My birth mother in South Korea was unable to keep me. So, a while after I was born, Talyn adopted me. I grew up around the Rangers."

"Patton dreamed of being a Ranger. For years that was all you would hear about." Thomas chuckled fondly.

"Six years after Talyn got Patton, my dad here, got me." Emile sat next to Patton on the bean bag.

"Then, after the Rangers fought the Dragon Witch, and Talyn didn't make it," Patton's voice broke a little, but he recovered quickly. "I was put in foster care."

"Luckily I was able to make a deal with the FBI about Patton's foster family." Thomas said.

"FBI?"

"What?" Thomas turned back around to see everyone in the room looking at him confused. "Did you all really think we were some group of hero's that reported to no one? It's a bit like the Avengers, they reported to shield who had to follow special guidelines set by the government. The Rangers are in contact with the government to protect our identities and to keep track of us."

It was silent. Remus looked around, Roman and Patton seemed to be having a silent conversation while Logan looked like the human version of a computer trying to calculate some weird math thing. Dee just looked a little overwhelmed by all of what was happening. But Remus wouldn't really know what that expression looks like on Dee. He definitely wasn't reading Dee like a picture book.

"If we're the avengers then Logan is Tony Stark and Patton is Steve." Emile said softly, attempting to relieve a little bit of the tension.

"Oh my god!" Roman looked to Emile. "And you're their son Peter Parker."

"Yes!" Emile pointed to Roman in agreement.

"What?" Logan squeaked.

"I love it!" Patton said suddenly, eyes bright. He moved to Emile and wrapped him in a hug.

"Logan look at our beautiful son!"

Remus burst into laughter. "Logan looks like a malfunctioning computer! Oh my god!!" Logan's ears turned bright pink and he turned away. However, this only resulted in Remus laughing more. He laughed so hard he fell to the floor, almost in tears. Roman was clearly having a hard time holding in his laughter while Dee shamelessly snorted at Logan's expression.

"Now don't be mean." Patton scolded jokingly.

"I will never understand you kids." Thomas shook his head.

"You're a guidance counselor." Emile pointed out.

"Doesn't mean I'm any good." Thomas shrugged turning back to Logan's board.

The laughter died down, but Remus for the life of him couldn't wipe his smile off his face. It felt good to smile with everyone.

. . .

Remus still didn't talk to Dee that much and he stopped interacting with Kayley all together because of it. The only tome he really felt sorry about it was when he overheard Kayley lashing out at Dee for messing up so she couldn't get her stuff any more. Remus didn't really feel much remorse for him though. It was Dee's fault after all, right? He figured Dee would say something sooner or later, so it was best to just get on with his life. Besides, he already was forced to see Dee more than he would have liked, what with their weekly Power Ranger meetings.

It had been a few weeks since Dee joined the team, and Remus had to admit, they worked together well enough. In that time Logan had decided there must be a pattern to Virgilius's attacks. It would seem random to anyone just casually observing, but Logan was convinced there was something behind it. The most likely theory was posed by Patton, he thought it had something to do with the moon rotation, but that still didn't sit well with Logan.

Surprising to everyone including himself, Remus discovered a pattern.

"The last attack on the upper east side of the town," Logan pointed to that side of a map of the town. "was September 14th."

"Mhm." Patton nodded along.

"Then he once again attacked the upper east side on September 30th." Logan stated. "However, the most recent attack was on the west side of town, two weeks ago on the 3rd."

Remus sighed. He pulled out his phone and stopped paying attention. He never contributed to these strategy talks anyway. This was for the others really. They were the ones who knew stuff. Remus just punched stuff.

As Dee joined the conversation, proposing the location of attacks could be the real pattern, Remus looked up to see Logan making a list. One column was dated of attacks and the other was where in the town the attacks took place. Remus looked back down at his phone, popping in a blue tooth ear bud and listening to a few of the more recent chapters of a fan fiction he was following.

Then, it hit him.

"I know the pattern!!!" Remus jumped up. "I know it! I know what his pattern is!!"

"Wh-what?" Dee asked.

"Remus, explain." Logan looked at his skeptical.

"Preferable less yelling next time kiddo."

"Yeah Pat, sure." Remus gave Patton a nod and walked up to the three at Logan's conspiracy board. "Here, there's this really popular fan fiction-"

Dee and Roman snorted before Patton and Remus shot them both dirty looks.

"Anyway! There's this really popular fanfic called Downright. It's about reddie, ya know Richie and Eddie from It." Remus went on. "I don't really read it, I listen to the audio version on YouTube."

"Get to the point please." Dee rolled his eyes.

Remus scoffed but did so anyway. "Look, here, since August, every attack has been a day after a new chapter is posted. I mean, this can't be a coincidence."

Remus handed Logan his phone who went to reaffirm Remus's hypotheses. Logan mumbled each chapter title posted since August and the date they were posted. Then matched it with an attack.

"Here, look, the author had been trying for a few months to post regularly, but took a break here." Remus pointed on the phone. "Then that Prince dude stopped."

"Around the time I became a Ranger." Patton noted, writing on the board.

"Then she posts another chapter and boom! A day after he's back at it!" Remus pointed to the place Logan had marked on his map of the town that corresponded to the attack Remus was talking about.

"So what does this mean, the Prince is some kind of fanboy?" Roman asked from his seat.

"Well, from this information we can assume that not only does our general study humans but takes interest in human things, to the point where he's, um, reading fanfiction about it." Logan began. "We can start a profile of Virgilius. If we have an idea of who he is, then predicting what he'll do next will only be easier."

"Ooo, this is like an episode of Sherlock!" Patton beamed.

"You watch Sherlock?" Logan questioned.

"I'm getting into it." Patton shrugged. "I can relate to Watson a lot."

"He's the bi one!" Roman declared. "Right? Sherlock's gay and Watson's bi?"

"Well, I've never posed that question. However! Not the topic of conversation we should be focusing on." Logan turned to Remus, handing him back the phone. "What can you tell us about people who typically read this, uh, fanfiction?"

"Well, to be honest, most of them are repressed gays. Definitely has a Tumblr blog, that's likely where he found the fic. Um, a horror fan but not classic horror, modern horror, and is probably pretty progressive. Because he's reading this fic it means he wasn't happy with the ending of It Chapter 2." Remus started.

"Meaning he had to somehow see the movie!" Patton continued jotting stuff down.

"Really, there's not much. It's not like other fandoms. He's definitely not in Thomas's generation because they aren't exactly fans of Reddie." Remus looked away. "He could either be a younger millennial or older gen-z. But other than that I can't say much else. People in the It fandom don't have any stereotypes like other fandoms. I mean some of them are insane 12 year olds."

"We can rule that one out." Logan dismissed. "However, Remus, what you said is more helpful than you think. We've got a rough profile of what he's like. We can use that to predict his moves. Granted, it's not the best information, but something is better than nothing."

"Plus, we've got Remus." Roman got up and walked over with the others. "You can tell us when the author uploads a chapter and we'll be prepared for the next day."

"Yeah, but she's almost done with the work. Like three chapters left at the most." Remus said, abruptly killing the mood.

It was quiet for a beat too long.

"Well, in the time we have, we've just gotta try our best to learn as much as we can about him!" Patton smiled through it.

"Besides, since we know he bases his attacks off of when something he likes is released, we can find another thing he might be interested in and use that as a predictor." Logan looked to his board, now adorning a list of attributes the Rangers know about Virgilius.

"Hey kids! I've got pizza bagels." Thomas yelled from the kitchen.

Patton and Roman cheered and raced up the stairs. Logan chuckled and followed the two with a fond expression. Remus watched them go. He couldn't help but feel a smile on his face. It felt kinda nice to help them. Granted they still were losers-well, not Patton-but Remus had to admit, having more than Dee to care about him felt good.

"Remus?"

Speak of the devil.

Remus peered at Dee from the side of his eye before moving to the stairs.

"Remus, hang on okay! This is so childish." Dee scoffed.

"What's childish? Me? You can add that to your list." Remus sneered and Dee flinched from his comment.

"No-I. . ." Dee looked away, Remus wondered if he was deciding whether he was annoyed or sorry. "I'm sorry I said those things."

Sorry it is.

"I mean it, I am. I should have know how hurt they would make you feel." Dee admitted. "I've never really apologized to anyone so I'm not too good at this-"

"But you're trying." Remus cut him off. "Look, Patton and I have been talking. He's trying to help me get into the college I like."

"That one for design and fashion?" Dee asked hesitantly.

"Yeah." Remus smiles a little when he said that. "You remembered."

"Mhm." Dee nodded.

"Well, yeah. I don't exactly have the chance of getting in if I keep doing," Remus gestured to himself. "this. So, I'm gonna forgive you. You don't deserve it frankly, cause I know you've said even worse stuff about me in the past, I just never said anything. But, Patton is certain that if I act all nice and stuff like this, then I'll have an easier time getting in. So, it's fine. I forgive you and everything."

"Oh. Well, okay. So, we're cool?" Dee looked a little dumbfounded. Remus wished he could take a picture.

"Yeah sure." Remus shrugged.

If you asked Remus why he lied to Dee he wouldn't be able to give you an answer. He could say that he didn't lie, but he had. There was no talk with Patton about being nice. The two did talk about college because Patton has an insufferable habit of helping people, but Patton had never mentioned Remus forgiving Dee. So, why would he say that? Simply put, Remus doesn't know. He doesn't know why he forgave Dee for saying those things. He's sure he shouldn't have, that Dee didn't truly care and forgiving him would be a mistake.

Then he saw Dee's face. He had just looked so disappointed. Though, not in Remus. Remus really didn't know why that struck him so hard, but he forgave the boy and moved on. Letting it go. Why he lied and said Patton told him too? Well, a boy must keep up his reputation.

Taglist: 

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors@maddarc@pheonix-inside-reblogs@thisismysanderssidesblog@almost-all-my-ships-are-gay@mostpeopleannoyme@the-smol-est@i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake@nadja-chamack16@too-bi-too-function@rainbowbowtie@mistypelt1234@tricksterangel25@authorized-trash@echocw

[shiavanzin]

💀  * [ timothee chalamet + cis male + he/him ] —— have you met zigmund ‘shia’ ivan vanzin? they are a twenty  year old junior currently studying political science. they live on decker house, and word around campus is that this gemini is witty + charming, as well as manipulative + self destructive. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. snorting lines off a priceless mirror, writing ancient runes in cigarette ash, the thrill of victory that accompanies a low ‘checkmate’. 

hello all, my name is pepper and i have never been on time for anything, ever, in my life so this is very on brand for me! that said, i am very excited to be here. shia is one of my favourite muses but because of his background it’s kind of hard for me to find places to play him, so i really jumped at the chance to be a part of this rp. that said, he is heathen so sdkjdsjk you’ve been warned, i suppose.

ABOUT THE MUN. fuck this *unfocuses my eyes*

fun fact about me, i’ve been working every day for the last ten days so i love that for me dkjdkj which is literally why me getting myself here was so chaotic honestly but i’m here i made it and we love to see it. honestly i am just a humble fergie enthusiast (patiently waiting for my girl to come back from her hiatus. any day now). i would die for a good aesthetic like pinterest owns my ass. i am big fan of the bachelor and specifically demi from the bachelor (demi from the bachelor if you are reading this i would like to hang out with you friday when i am free. please contact me if you’re able to hang out (on friday when i am free)). i am a huge superhero nerd. the first fanfic i ever wrote was a teen titans/danny phantom crossover and honestly? most ambitious crossover of all time, sorry endgame. i’ve never seen star wars or lord of the rings, and i’m okay with that. oh, and funnily enough i have never played chess which is about to be very ironic and i think that’s the perfect transition into shia’s bio.

BIO. child abuse tw, addiction tw, drug tw, and i think that’s it rip. 

(tldr literally just click the link in the second bullet point for a summary because that’s how shia grew up, with psychologist parents determined to make him a prodigy. he is technically a prodigy now as the youngest grandmaster in history. his family is weird and fucked up and cold blah blah blah takes a lot of drugs, drinks a lot of alcohol to cope with his messed up childhood blah blah blah went to boarding school for high school. oh, and there’s a meme of him. and that’s pretty much it.)

okay first of all here is shia’s pinterest board and here is his playlist, which is honestly just??? really messy and just filled with songs that remind me of him (like it doesn’t flow at all i’m pretty sure yk) so! yeah!

second of all, shia’s backstory is thoroughly inspired by a true story. like I legitimately found this (look at the early life portion to see what i’m talking about if you want but i’m about to explain it all below anyways) and was like !!!???? so yes, that’s how this mess was born (although i highkey think that gerard way got inspo from that family for the umbrella academy like??? that’s my little conspiracy theory. WHERE ARE THEIR ROYALTIES GERARD!)

Shia doesn’t remember life before he was adopted. Before he was Zigmund Ivan Vanzin, the fourth child of the carefully selected Vanzin 6. Honestly he’s not quite sure his life prior is of much importance, because things didn’t truly get crazy until after he was officially taken in by the Vanzin family at the tender age of two.

Shia and his five siblings were all part of an educational experiment carried out by their parents, Moira and Yakov Vanzin, in an attempt to prove that children could be trained to be prodigies if immersed in a specialist subject from a very early age. ‘Geniuses are made, not born’, was the tagline of their parents thesis, and the foundation on which Shia and his siblings’ entire childhood was based on. They would all be molded into prodigies, and they would be living, breathing proof of their parents achievements.

Because of the magnitude of their experiment, and Shia’s parents reputation (both of Shia’s parents was a very famous educational psychologists in their own right, and due to their fame, their experiment and their children were covered in magazines and newspapers worldwide. To this day a quick google search will lead you pictures of the Vanzin 6 growing up slowly on the covers of publications such as Times Magazine, Forbes, People, and of course a myriad of academic magazines as well.) they received heavy criticism at the time from some western media for ‘depriving the siblings of a normal childhood.’ But since all of the Vanzin children were born and raised in Russia, that criticism didn’t do much in the way of stopping them. Shia’s parents coolly ignored it all. They wanted to leave a mark. To change the future. And they both truly believed that their research would do that. They believed their work would completely revolutionize the way that children were educated, and that therefore, they would revolutionize the future.

And so the children were affectionately dubbed The Vanzin 6 by the media that wasn’t completely against the experiment. A cute little nickname smacked on what would normally be considered a child endangerment lawsuit. Sure, there were still those that protested, but their cries were quiet in comparison to the roars of the intrigued, of the curious, of the fans, because of course there were fans. So it goes without saying that Shia’s first photo op was when he was still in diapers. He smiled cheekily through the whole thing, in striking contrast to his siblings all staring empty eyed into the camera. Their lives were pretty much put on constant display from that point on, and honestly, at least in terms of Shia’s approach to photo ops, not much has changed on that front.

Shia’s parents educated their six children at home, each with their own specific subject to focus on. From the age of four, Shia, or Zigmund, as his birth certificate so lovingly displayed, (it should be noted that Moira and Yakov named all of their children after psychologists, and that Shia was simply unlucky enough to get Freud. So perhaps lovingly wasn’t the right word.) showed a talent for chess, and therefore that talent was ‘nurtured’. In other words, Shia was only allowed to live and breathe chess from the cursed day his chubby little fingers picked up a chess piece to, presumably, the day he died. If he wasn’t eating, sleeping, or doing his school work, Shia was playing chess. First he played against his father, and mother, and siblings and when that stopped posing a challenge, he got involved in official competitions. Those were somehow even less of a challenge, but granted, his siblings were being trained into geniuses. At first he played children his age, and then slightly older, and then much older, which Shia will admit, was the most fun. Even as a child there was just something about seeing a grown man go red in the face with frustration as he lost to a child. Something amusing. Something powerful. Admittedly, chess got old. But that specific red faced look never did.

Shia rose up the ranks slowly and steadily from then on, already creating quite a stir in the world of chess by the age of six. And considering this was what they wanted, you would think his parents would be proud. Thrilled even. However that was not completely the case.

For as long as Shia can remember his relationship with his parents had been more ‘professional’ than affectionate. To start, he and his siblings all called them both by their first names. Considering he was adopted, Shia would never know what his first word was, that memory was lost to him and kept only by the parents who didn’t want him enough to keep him in the first place. But even if he was born to Moira and Yakov, if the two were his flesh and blood, he knows with absolute surety that the first words to come out of his mouth wouldn’t have been ‘Mama’ or ‘Papa’. The two never referred to themselves that way, and they didn’t expect their children to either. Shia remembers with painful clarity first and only time he tried. Or rather, he remembers the stomach turning look of both confusion and contempt from Moira that followed the one time he tried. He never tried again.

His parents didn’t offer much when it came to what normal parents did he supposed. He didn’t receive much physical affection from them, or sugar coated words. They were their parents, yes, but they were also their handlers, and being raised with that emotional distance definitely had an impact on Shia’s psyche. All Shia wanted to do was impress his parents. Maybe get a good job, or a hug, or a smile. The kind of things he’d seen other kids get just for breathing, or using a toilet. But he knew his parents expected more. He knew they expected the best. So the only way he knew how to achieve his goal of attaining his parents affection was to work harder. To be the best he could at chess, the best anyone could at chess, and once he did that he knew his parents would reward him. He knew they would love him for taking the first step to make their dreams come true. When he was young he used to have dreams of that reward. Of how good it would feel to know they were proud of him. He imagined it feeling warm. And light, like he’d read in books. He imagined it feeling worth it.

Shia and his siblings were never the children that got asked that question, you know, the question that all children can relate to answering with bubbling wide eyed excitement. ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ The answer was laid out for them. It was decided before they even had a chance to think about it, and any time someone made the mistake of asking them the question, their parents  answered for them. She will be the world’s youngest prima ballerina. She will be a legend in the musical field. He will be grandmaster. No, dreams weren’t for the Vanzin children, so Shia’s kept his quiet. Kept it close to his heart where his parents couldn’t admonish him for being sentimental or fickle or any of the other large words they used that Shia was only instructed to look up in the dictionary. His dream of gaining their favour was his, and his alone. Shia learned very quickly in life to keep your cards close, and your heart buried.

And after years of hard work and dedication, and a lot of blood sweat and tears, Shia did it. He won. He finally beat everyone there was to beat, and at the youngest recorded age of ten to boot. Shia was officially the world’s youngest grandmaster. His record has still yet to be beat to this day. And that day, he looked to his parents, ready for them to run to him and shower him with the affection and praise he longed for. It didn’t take long for the ecstatic expression on his young face to fall.

The most Shia got was an approving nod from his mother from across the room. His father, for his part, was on a phone call. That was it. The crowd roared around him, and the audience clapped with the enthusiasm usually reserved for sports games and concerts. The reporters at the event stumbled over their words trying to communicate the record breaking event that they had just witnessed, from one of the lionized Vanzin 6. It was chaos, beautiful, celebratory chaos, all for Shia, but it was all a blur around him. He couldn’t see it. All he could see was Moira and Yakov, turning away from him and towards each other, whispering god knows what. He had their full attention for maybe all of a minute. They didn’t even smile.

(There is live video of Shia having his dream crushed right before his eyes. Recordings of it on youtube. How many people can say that, aye? The true power of celebrity. The gif of Shia’s shocked and empty expression amidst a crowd of ballistic celebration even became a meme at one point, a meme that Shia later bitterly used on occasion, because what was more powerful than using a meme of yourself? Than using your own pain for humour? Nothing, in Shia’s opinion.)

After Shia became grandmaster everything stopped. After all, there was nothing more to train him for. He had achieved his goal. He had won. And with his parents no longer focusing on training him and leaving him completely to his own devices, well, they stopped paying attention to him completely. Shia was all at once almost completely emancipated. The freedom of it all was freeing for all of a week. Then, Shia started to feel painfully invisible.

Prior to becoming grandmaster, Shia was quiet. Polite. Very calm, very observant, a bit distant and reserved for a kid, but no real red flags. Afterwards, however? After he felt like his parents no longer had any use for him, no longer had any anything for him, well Shia lashed out. Rebelled. Became louder, sharper tongued, more mischievous. He started acting out in hopes that they would give him some of the attention he so desperately craved, and while they did, none of it was positive. Shia quickly became the problem child of the Vanzin 6, somehow both his parents pride and joy as the first of their children to reach their goal, but also their greatest disappointment as the first one to turn against them.

Without chess to focus on, Shia turned to his siblings for entertainment. However Shia’s version of entertainment was never completely harmless. From a young age he had a habit of using people like chess pieces, of manipulating them and turning them against each other or towards each other for his own cheap entertainment. Shia could singlehandedly trick his siblings out of an argument when he was younger (or into an argument, when he was feeling particularly chaotic). He could trick the few peers he came across into simply giving him their toys or snacks, and trick bullies into leaving him alone a good amount of time too. It was both a gift and a curse, because people were never quite happy when they caught on. Most didn’t but the few that did were memorable in the violence of their anger. And besides, his parents never liked it. Shia would come home with an armful of toys that other kids ‘gave’ him and his parents would always force him to go bring them back, despite the fact that the Vanzin children were never really allowed toys of their own. The fact was, Shia’s moral compass was faulty. He never quite understood why what he was doing was wrong no matter how many times his parents tried to explain to him that people were not to be used as tools. Shia didn’t get how what he was doing was that much different from what they were. After all, weren’t Shia and his siblings nothing more than tools in his parents experiment? He asked them the question once. All he got for his efforts was a stinging cheek and a cold reminder from Moira not to be cheeky.

As Shia got older his rebellion got worse. In his defense, he was left unsupervised. While his siblings were busy with their training, Shia would be sneaking out to parties or bars or clubs. It was in those places that he was introduced to his first great loves. Drugs and alcohol. Moira and Yakov kept the Vanzin mansion dry as a monastery, so Shia had never even had a sip of beer before the age of thirteen. But the moment he did, he was a goner. Or rather the moment he got drunk he was a goner. There was something so beautiful to him about intoxication. So addicting, for lack of better word. When he was high, or drunk, or preferably, both, he felt happy. He didn’t remember his parents, or his responsibilities, or his failures, or even his successes. He was warm. And light. And content. Turns out he didn’t need his parents to make his dreams come true. Just a bottle of vodka and a line or two of coke.

After about a year of Shia coming home drunk or high or a combination of the two, eventually his parents couldn’t take it anymore (in the sharp words of Moira Vanzin, ‘Zigmund your behaviour is distracting your siblings from their training’) and sent him off to boarding school. Honestly, it hurt. His parents were basically getting rid of him because he was inconvenient, and he could never forget their out of sight out of mind approach to the whole thing.

Boarding school flew by in a mess of Riot Club like antics during which Shia did things like discover his bisexuality and somehow, against all odds, graduate. (TBH I wanna leave this pretty open in case there is any other boarding school kids who could have perhaps gone to the same school Shia did, so hmu if you have a boarding school kiddo.) He definitely attributes his acceptance to Holloway on his name completely, because honestly Shia was completely high when he wrote his college application, so high that he can’t even remember why he did it. He had no plans of going to college before that, but he figured... why not party in america and waste his parents money? What was stopping him?

So here he is, a whole mess in another country, and honestly he’s having the time of his life. Well, you know. Until people started dying. That isn’t ideal.

PERSONALITY. emotionally damaged, but make it sexy.

manipulative (we been knew) sometimes without really trying to be though. will manipulate people to get what he wants, but sometimes he just thinks of it like a nudge in the right direction. like he’ll manipulate a friend into talking to that girl they’ve had a crush on for half the year just because he wants them to be happy (and also he’s tired of hearing them talk about her)

selfish/self centered cause it’s just not?? his first instinct to think about other people’s feelings?? and it’s also kind of hard for him to empathize sometimes, especially if he’s never been in that situation or he doesn’t like KNOW and CARE about the person.

charming and charismatic, he’s got a great smile and he knows how to use it. also just very endearing if you don’t know him well, and even sometimes when you do. this is mostly a facet of him being very manipulative because he usually uses his charm to get what he wants, but still.

witty oof, this boy’s humour is inspired by klaus hargreeves and villanelle (what a duo,,, when will they meet) and he’s very rarely serious. always telling jokes, always pretty nudge nudge wink wink, even in very serious situations when he shouldn’t be. uses humour as a coping mechanism 100%, whether that’s at his own expense or someone else’s. honestly, can be kind of mean with it? like if anyone can go for the jugular with a joke it’s shia.

a big flirt honestly. will flirt with anyone he’s interested in, and will sometimes flirt without really noticing it? sometimes will flirt just for sport, or for fun, or to bug someone, or throw someone off. the type to flirt with his professor as a joke (why has he not been kicked out of here already) and has probably slept with a professor as a result. not really a player, but he enjoys physical intimacy and he knows how to get it. has been in more than a few relationships in the past, but is never very good at it because he’s almost constantly looking out for number one, aka himself. so? a mess basically.

vengeful, petty, spiteful, vindictive, all when angry or jealous or feeling as if he’s been wronged in some way but we been knew,,, we been knew.

rebellious !! still the type to suggest skipping town and partying instead of sticking around for exams. not really invested in school tbh. he has no idea what he’s going to do with his future.

a big superiority complex! cocky as hell! kind of acts like he’s the best thing since sliced bread because he was over praised as a child by like everyone but his parents. the type to think he ain’t shit deep down so he acts like he’s The Shit yk

craves love and intimacy but thinks romance is a sham. a big pessimist like ‘we’re all just floating on this rock life is meaningless we’re all gonna die anyways’ pessimist but kind of a realist tbh, he just doesn’t see the reason to sugar coat things unless ofc he’s manipulating someone then he’ll say whatever he needs to

trust issues, after his parents tbh. the only people he trusts 100% are his siblings and maybe a few close friends. i honestly may put in a wanted connection for his siblings at one point, but that’s for later.

HEADCANNONS. running for your life (from shia labeouf) he’s brandishing a knife (it’s shia labeouf)

a thick russian accent. speaks pretty impeccable english though because his parents tutored him in the english as a child. He also speaks a bit of french, german, and latin, and is currently taking mandrin chinese.

Is taking political science because he figures being a politician is just manipulating people on a larger scale, and he’d be right. However he’s not sure if that’s what he’ll actually end up going into. Honestly, Shia isn’t the slightest bit sure what he actually wants to do with his life.

His eldest sibling Jean was the one to give Shia the nickname ‘Shia’ after he confided in her that he’s always hated his name, and he’s gone by it ever since. His parents still call him Zigmund, and some of his siblings probably still call him Zig or Ziggy but like i said sdkdsk he has always hated the name (he does not want to be associated with the guy who invented the concept of the Oedipus complex). The only nickname he can stomach sometimes is Z, but other than that he’ll only accept Shia (or Shy to a select few).

was never raised with a television?? didn’t even go to a MOVIE THEATER until he was like fourteen??? so he has absolutely NO idea who Shia Laboeuf really is. People keep making jokes about it to him and he’s like ???? Honestly he googled him once and just gave up after thirty seconds, convinced people were fucking with him because this person couldn’t be real dlksdskld anyways yeah, knows next to nothing about a lot of pop culture, especially anything like before 2010, but has learnt a bit since coming out of his families little bubble. But there are still times where Shia’s like ??? what tf is that and someone’s got to explain what rolly polly olly is to him yk

Shia has a photographic memory, but honestly he doesn’t really care about it. In his eyes having a photographic memory doesn’t make you a genius, it just makes tests easier. Like to him it just means he doesn’t have to flip through his source material for quotes sdkjsdjk. It’s nothing exciting to him sdkdsk he skipped a grade because of it though but honestly?? All he really uses it for now is receipts like a little shit. Shia will legit be in an argument like “oh that wasn’t what you said in that text you sent to me at 4:45 on monday june 3rd 2017???” sdkjsdj. Occasionally he also uses it as a party trick, like if you give him a specific date he could probably tell you the newspaper headline on that day.

Has zero athletic skill. Absolutely none. Would one hundred percent lose in a fight, which is funny because he talks SO MUCH SHIT. He talks constant shit, and yet if you were to throw a punch at Shia he would go down like a rock. He doesn’t particularly care if he gets his ass beat though, so he continues to talk large amounts of shit, occasionally from a safe distance but usually not.

Honestly if you were to see him and his parents interact today it’d be wild, like you wouldn’t even know they were related. They literally act like strangers or acquaintances. Like it’s all like ‘Moira, Yakov, good to see you.’ and ‘You too Zigmund. I trust you’ve been well?’ and that goes on for like five minutes and then Shia has to hyperventilate in a corner for a bit. Like it’s so weird but it’s just been like that all his life. Normal healthy affection??? He doesn’t know her

Has a tattoo of a queen piece on the index finger of his left hand, as a little nod to what used to be his passion. Is also left handed.

Has a scar through his eyebrow that he got on a wild night out when he was thirteen. He got drunk and like passed out, and hit his head hit the edge of a table in the process. There was a lot of blood and a lot of panic, but in the end Shia only had to get a few stitches and he was very quickly back on his bullshit the moment he left the hospital. Literally, he went straight from the hospital to a house party (after all, it’s not like his parents even came to visit him and make sure he got home, so Shia simply did whatever he wanted to.)

Has a helix piercing in his right ear. It’s just a very basic silver hoop though.

His parents never really let the siblings have hobbies, but I imagine one of Shia’s siblings is a horse riding prodigy so he has some experience in that. One of them is a language prodigy, hence why Shia is conversational in so many. Jean, the eldest, is a musical prodigy and has lovingly taught Shia a bit of piano and violin. He is nowhere near as good at those things as he was at chess, but doing any of them reminds him of his siblings, so he tends to actually turn to them more often than chess. If I’m being honest I don’t think that Shia has played a game of chess since he became grandmaster unless forced to by his parents?

Mentally Shia knows he’s an adult now and that his parents technically have no control over him, but emotionally whenever they look at him he just… feels like that empty little kid again.

Tends to always have one of those travel sized bottles of vodka on him so if you’re feeling stressed hit your boy up.

Has honestly been rich since the day he was adopted, like literally has no idea how to function without copious amounts of money?

Shia is staying in the Decker dorms because he thrives on the chaos.

Definitely an addict, definitely high functioning though but also like? It isn’t a secret? I contemplated making it a secret but once again Shia has always got a travel sized bottle of vodka on him sdkjsd you can see him casually spiking his drinks if you’re ever out with him, he pops whatever pills he can find in his pockets in the morning. So yeah it is not a secret that Shia is an addict, he is rarely sober and that’s the way he likes it. Doesn’t consider himself an addict though, funnily enough.

WANTED CONNECTIONS. god we finally got here sjsdj if you got this far you’re the real mvp.

okay to start here is my wc tag for shia so i would absolutely love anything inspired by anything in that tag.

FRIENDS FROM BOARDING SCHOOL. i already talked about this a bit but i would absolutely love it so i’m mentioning it again sdjds i am really flexible about where shia went to boarding school, so literally wherever your muse went works for me. all i want is some dead poets society antics you feel me.

CHILDHOOD FRIEND. listen to me. i love childhood friend connections so much give it to me please and i will give you my first born child in exchange. again, shia grew up in russia, but it could be a long distance friendship if need be. we can make it work, i will literally change stuff around to make it work.

PREVIOUS ONE NIGHT STANDS. honestly shia would have multiple of these cause he’s a hoe. did he ghost your muse? did they mutually ghost each other? was it a one night stand gone wrong?

ENEMY. it’s so easy to hate him man. anyone who wants to hate him please feel free. did shia screw your muse over? did he manipulate them? did he i don’t know throw up on their shoes while particularly drunk? maybe shia was high when he did the thing they hate him for, maybe he doesn’t even remember but he just hates them cause they hate him. it’s the principle of the thing really. (me in my head: *junie b jones vc* princiPAL cause he’s your PAL). unreasonable completely baseless hate for no reason at all? 

FLIRTATIONSHIP. a fun ‘will they, won’t they’ kind of situation because why not. what’s stopping us. just fun banter on both ends. 

EXES. shia doesn’t date so he wouldn’t have too many of these but it would be fun. maybe their relationship was toxic because of shia’s toxic ass traits skjdsj maybe things were getting real and shia dipped like the coward he is. maybe it’s was a the colonel x sarah esque relationship where no one got it because they both seemed to hate each other the whole time and they very much did hate each other but were dating anyways. maybe it’s maybeline. 

FWB/EWB. honestly this is more shia’s speed, so he’d probably have more of these as well as ex-fwbs/ewbs, which is such a fun concept. did it stop because someone caught feelings? or did they just get bored of each other? some other reason? but okay, back to the point, yes sexy enemies. sexy friends. we love to see it. 

HIGH SOCIETY. someone he gets fucked up with! multiple people he gets fucked up with! they party together, drink together, do lines together. it’s a beautiful relationship of them all enabling each other. 

GOOD INFLUENCE. counter actively. someone who tries to get shia away from his self destructive tendencies. someone who’s door he comes knocking at when he’s black out drunk because he knows they’ll give him a place to sleep. Someone he calls when he ends up in butt fuck nowhere with no shoes after a crazy night. Also, as wild as it is, flip it, where Shia’s hypocritical ass cares about your muse enough to try and take care of them. High off his ass but still trying to stick his fingers down their throat so they don’t get alcohol poisoning. They text him when they’re ‘going home’ when they were pre-gaming at their house in the first place. Shia is very ‘you would die without me’ about this person.

BAD INFLUENCE. shia is the devil kronk on their shoulder. he tempts them to the dark side with promises of a good time, and he delivers thank you very much. 

A DRUG DEALER. i mean??? i’m ngl shia i very dependent on drugs, so he would probably keep this person close and do his best to keep them happy.

SOMEONE SHIA CHEATS FOR OR CHEATED FOR. maybe shia did their homework or took a test for them, all for an ominous ‘you owe me’?

SOMEONE SHIA SCREWED OVER. he does this all the time so yeah there can be multiples of this skjsdj shia is honestly like genuinely loyal to only a few people, so there are probably more than few people he left in the dust to save his own skin. maybe he saw the cops closing in on a party and left your muse for dead! or whatever else yk.

ANNOYANCE. it’s shia he’s the annoyance. 

okay i think that’s all i’ve got, and if you made it all the way down here you’re??? an icon??? wow, i really can’t believe. please like this if you want to plot and i will come running!

[yutaya]

Iron Fist Rewatch 1x02: Shadow Hawk Takes Flight

These doctors seem very nonchalant about how close this dude just got to murdering Danny with a fork. No reassurance or apology - just pour drugs down his throat so they can hose him down. What a picture of The System.

Negative stereotype that has roots in truth - there ARE places like this and worse, but it's true that we very rarely see the good kind of facility represented in TV too. Sucks for them to always be portrayed as the bad guy, and probably harmful too if people really could benefit from them but are wary.

"Let's say [he IS Danny]. That would mean he somehow, miraculously, [1] survived a plane crash, [2] in the Himalayas, and that [3] for some unknown reason he waited fifteen years to come back, with [4] no shoes and a tendency toward violence." - Ward, reciting all the reasons he's been repeating to himself ever since the parking lot not to start thinking this might be Danny, frog and freezer stories or no.

"We're doing the right thing. We could have just had him arrested." Why DIDN'T you have him arrested, Ward? Oh right, HAROLD. ugh.

AU where Danny gets arrested instead. Unfortunately I THINK none of the other Defenders timelines work out so this would be a good time for them to meet him early, though... 🤔

Again with this bird. I completely forgot about this symbol theme.

Danny: "I was meditating." Doctor: "Oh!" Danny: "Yeah, I was trying to focus my chi so I could get out of here." Doctor: "Oh..."

Doctor's like: Oh, wow, this is an interesting level of specificity for a made up story...

I forgot how much I like this doctor. He's legit trying to help. I forget what happened to him...

Colleen is putting so much effort into insulting her students LOL. Also: Darryl's shoes are too big. Bc Colleen runs a struggling dojo in an underprivileged part of city as a safe haven for these kids and to help "teach them how to perform in the real world"

Parts of this conversation that will weigh on Colleen: "You saw me being attacked; you KNOW there's something weird going on." "One of the richest families in New York have a problem with you." "No, I don't have anyone else I can ask for help: you're the only one."

Ward: Ok, good, I'm hearing reasons why this guy can't be telling the truth and therefore cannot be Danny. That's good. I still feel kind of off though... but that's probably just the thing where Harold put cameras in the hospital. Yeah.

Poor Kyle.

Ward: "We can lobotomize him!" Me: "asdfghjkl WARD."

This shot of Harold's "smile" when he tells Ward  "You ARE one of my guys! One of my most trusted guys!" is SO CREEPY

You can see Colleen FREEZE when Ward introduces himself. Harold and Ward shooting themselves in the foot with this: they're lending credence to Danny's story from the phone convo.

Ward, one of the richest people in the city: "Lie to the authorities about that homeless dude being violent for my own personal benefit. Here's a blatant bribe."

Harold yelling at the spy footage like he's throwing popcorn at a movie.

POOR KYLE.

This is deeply uncomfortable for me on a personal level.

Joy: Hmmmmm. What possible reason... could "Danny's" doctor have... for asking that very specific question.... unless.........?

Ok but "tiny Danny wanted to be an acrobat and was always jumping around on things" makes it SO MUCH EASIER for canon-divergent AUs where Danny isn't in the plane crash to still include ninja warrior Danny I-

Harold, a known dead man, looming ominously in the shadows of Danny's mental hospital room: "Here's a message about how you have to come find me and help me. It's not very subtle so you'll probably get it." Danny: "Oh shit, maybe I am crazy...?"

Danny: "I was a warrior. Only in the middle of a fight did I fully come alive. The harder someone hit me, the more everything came into focus." Harold: "Hm. Note taken." Me: *crying emoji*

Show: "oooh, ominous, Harold's under the Hand's thumb. Maybe there's more to him, maybe he's sympathetic...?" Fans: "lol, nice try. We all clocked that creep-o the moment we saw him."

I've talked about Colleen's first impressions of the Meachums in general and Ward in specific before but. Dude. Dude.

Danny, thinking that his very last tentative hope (Colleen) has fallen through, receives a communication from Joy. ;____;

Had. Had Joy already opened the bag of m&ms. It was sealed when she pulled it out of her desk drawer so wh- OH. The hospital opened Danny's mail, including the candy bag, to inspect it before giving it to him. Hahaha *sob*

If Colleen hadn't come to see Danny here, their paths might have diverged. As far as he's concerned, Colleen has made it clear that she's not going to help him and that they're just two strangers in a big city. Turning the corner and seeing her come to visit him boosts that flame of hope that Joy's package rekindled even further. He thought he had no one, and now the amount of people he has is growing.

Ok but, in an AU where Colleen doesn't go see Danny / Danny doesn't know Colleen came to see him, that isn't necessarily the end of their relationship. On Colleen's side, she's still suspicious of this entire Meachum mess - it RADIATES corruption and Colleen is very much entrenched in the downworld of NYC, where the rich powerful elite hurt the most. Plus, Danny doesn't give up on people easily and honestly, he kind of sucks at taking a hint - if he went off to some Rand business with the in with Joy, he would still end up in all the Harold mess, and probably at some point be on the run (maybe with another person - oooh, would love to see that AU - Joy or Ward or both in tow with Danny on the streets, fleeing trouble, Danny saying "I know a place") and showing up at Colleen's door, like "I know you don't want any part of this, and I don't mean to bring trouble to your door, but there's nowhere else to go," and Colleen being like "get in, quick," with her windows already half shuttered and supplies on the table because she was already investigating herself - (it could turn into a whole thing, with Colleen having connections that she thinks she can trust to help them against the big bad Harold/Meachum conspiracy, but then it's the Hand, and-!)

Danny: "The Meachum family might think I'm a threat to them." Colleen: "And why would they think that?" Danny: "Because I'm Danny Rand and I own more than half the company." Me: "And also because you stalked Joy, broke into her house and their offices, terrified and almost killed Ward???"

But anyway this is only gonna fuel Colleen's narrative that this is all greedy corporate machinations and bloody rich people politics. (Literally bloody. Literally murder people in a "problem solving" way kind of bloody.)

GODDDD Colleen is so hot in this scene when she walks into Joy's office with her pushed up sleeves on her chinese bomber jacket and her shirt tucked into her rolled up pants and - her hands in her pockets and that black bracelet and the belt - !

This argument between Joy and Ward is so emotionally charged - Ward's now in a desperate position because Joy has no way of knowing that she has just become an obstacle to something that he can't allow to happen - because Harold can not allow it to happen, and he's pulling Ward's strings, and then - ! "What are you so afraid of, Ward?" It's Harold, he's afraid of Harold. "You should be more like Dad." Ugh. ugh! Shot through the heart! "Grow some balls." I'm crying. They've both learned such terrible things from their father.

GDI DANNY the doctor BELIEVED you and then you had to go start talking about alternate planes of existence and the Iron Fist UGH he thinks you're just trying to cope with the trauma I - UGH.

This doctor is honestly trying to help but he's confirming all of Danny's fears from what Simon told him about how this place operates.

Ward regularly has to come up with ways to convince an entire board to do weird things that Harold asks - like purchase some random warehouses in Brooklyn - without even knowing why

Ward: "'Danny' is a threat to us, to our family, to our business, and the smartest solution - the one YOU taught me - is to get rid of the problem as expediently as possible!" Harold: "No, protect him." Ward: "WHY?! I am asking you why. Explain it to me! Because from where I'm standing, protecting him is dangerous, and getting rid of him is safe!" Harold: "Because I said so, that's why. Now heel." Honestly, of COURSE Ward takes this into his own hands.

Ah, yes, our first glimpse at Ward's drug addiction.

What is their plan????? Just beat him to death!? Can't make it quick - why?? Are they trying to make it look like a simple altercation between inmates???

"Ward Meachum sends his regards." God, that's so heartbreaking. The idea that not only does Ward believe Danny is an imposter and a threat, enough to try to kill him and then to send him to a mental institution - but that once he's there, out of harm's way, if he IS a mentally unstable imposter - OR once proof is starting to trickle to the Meachums (in colorful chocolate form) that he actually IS their old friend Danny - that Big Brother Ward would go out of his way to strike a deal with some "low life mental hospital thugs" to beat Danny to death?? This moment, to Danny, must feel like a bigger betrayal to Danny by Ward than anything else so far.

Danny, on all fours, looks up at the full moon outside the window, at the hawk silhouette streaking across it, and smiles. Hawk as Danny's spirit guide AU cont., but ALSO: WEREWOLF AU WEREWOLF AU WEREWOLF AU

Danny. Danny. Please run. Busting a huge hole in the wall made a very loud noise, please stop just standing there and giving people time to catch up.

[chiseler]

THE MYSTERY OF SUNN CLASSIC PICTURES

It was like the positive, life-affirming New Age mysticism of the hippies took a sudden turn for the dark and very strange. In the mid-Seventies, as the country was overwhelmed by a creeping atmosphere of impotent anger, paranoia and existential despair in response to Vietnam, Watergate, race riots, Kent State, the Tate-LaBianca murders, bomb-tossing student radicals, pollution, high-profile assassinations, the oil crisis and the emergence of disco, Americans sought solace in some form by plunging headlong into a collective national obsession with all things Mysterious and Unexplained. Suddenly Bigfoot was all the rage, as was The Loch Ness Monster, The Bermuda Triangle, UFOs, psychic phenomena, near-death experiences, apocalyptic Biblical prophecies, and ancient astronauts. People were desperate to hold onto something, anything, no matter how ridiculous and fanciful, as the whole world seemed to be crumbling and burning around them. If something pointed toward an unseen world, a world outside this stinking mess we were stuck with, or better still promised the complete obliteration of this stinking mess, then at least there was a glimmer of hope. Almost overnight, a cottage industry cropped up, flooding the market with cheap paperbacks, magazines, movies and TV shows—even comic books and board games—devoted to unexplained phenomena of all sorts. Personally I didn’t give a Toss about the state of the world, but I still subscribed to UFO Reporter magazine, had a shelf full of cheap paperbacks with titles like The Search for Bigfoot and From Outer Space, and never missed In Search Of…, the half-hour syndicated series narrated by Leonard Nimoy that  delved into one mystery or another every week. For god sakes, I even had the Bermuda Triangle board game.

But in what may have been the strangest phenomenon of all, far more bizarre than the legends surrounding Area 51 or the Philadelphia Experiment, in 1971 Schick teamed up with the Church of Latter Day Saints to launch a low-budget movie studio that aimed to become the epicenter of High Strangeness culture.

Yes, a razor blade company and the Mormons decided to make movies together. How could the results be anything but unfathomable?

(It’s worth noting before we get too far that in my research into the history of Sunn Classic Pictures, it became clear the indie studio, which still exists in some vague form today, seems to have gone to some great lengths to fog their early history, never once mentioning the Mormons, and in some cases denying there even was a Sunn Classic Pictures prior to 1980. With only a few  rare exceptions, the reasonably small Sunn Classic catalog, now owned by Paramount, never received any kind of home video release, which only adds to the mystery.)

As the official story goes, in 1971, the employees of Schick—a subsidiary if the pharmaceutical company Warner-Lambert—approached Rayland Jensen and asked him to launch a new movie studio. Appalled by all the filth and violence and sex and cursing that infested American movie screens, as well as the so-called “intellectuals” who thought these movies were “good,” they felt real Americans needed a family-friendly alternative. Those Schick employees concluded Jensen was just the man for the job, as a few years earlier he’d handled distribution for a nature picture released by the Utah-based American National Enterprises. The picture had done very well.

Okay, let me stop there. As I said, that’s the official story, as far as it goes and as little sense as it makes. The real story goes more like this.

In 1971, a renegade group of American National Enterprises employees, led by Jensen and inspired by that same disgust with what American movies had become, broke away to form a new production company to release family-friendly, G-rated pictures. Patrick Frawley, the ultraconservative, paranoid, anti-communist conspiracy theorist who also happen to run the Schick razor blade company invested a bundle in the new venture, ensuring he would have some say in the kinds of movies the new company would release.

With headquarters divided between Salt Lake City and Park City, Utah, the newly-christened Sunn Classic Pictures (aka Sunn international, aka Schick Sunn Classic Pictures) set out to Make family-friendly features and documentaries aimed at working class, conservative, God-fearing Americans who didn’t go out to movies very often, likely because of all the above-mentioned filth and sex and violence and cuss words. Moreover, they wanted to make certain these warm-hearted films turned a healthy profit. This involved two basic techniques.

The first was four-walling, a distribution method American National Enterprises helped pioneer. Instead of spending a fortune on all those prints necessary for a massive nationwide theatrical release, Sunn instead rented theaters serving the target demographic, inundated the market with ads and gimmicks, then screened their new film at the selected theater for no more than a week. After that extremely limited run, they packed up and moved the print to another theater far away. It was a tricky ploy. On the upside four-walling a picture allowed the production company to keep all the box office receipts without having to divide them among various middlemen.

If they knew the film was a stinker, it also allowed them to skip town before the bad reviews could do them any damage. On the downside, those limited runs also meant the picture would be there and gone before any positive word of mouth could work its magic. Sunn would try four-walling a new movie for a few months, and if it was making money, they might consider a nationwide release. If not, then they’d start trying to sell it to TV for syndication. It wasn’t a tack that worked all the time, but often enough to make it worthwhile, and it left them more of an escape route than a national release ever would.

So. “Family friendly.” Yes. If you want to make Disney-style pictures but don’t have Disney-style budgets to work with, animated features are out. So are live action films with any kind of special effects. Basically what you’re left with are nature films, right? No expensive sets, very few actors, and as a result very cheap to make. So Sunn began producing wilderness adventure stories.

In those very early days, you can definitely smell Patrick Frawley’s hand in the development process. Films like 1971’s Toklat, in which a man is forced to track down and kill a beloved pet bear after the bear kills a local rancher’s livestock, is a prime example. (As it happens, Toklat was the first Sunn picture I ever saw, Green Bay being a conservative working-class town, and so on Sunn’s demographic map. ) There was something decidedly Nietzschean about those earliest releases. Most of them featured lone individualusts with strong principles who flee the corruption of modern civilization to face the harsh realities of nature alone.

Now, think back and ask yourself honestly” what kid in his right mind has ever liked nature films, Nietzschean or otherwise? Maybe Mormon kids did, but certainly not normal kids. Nature movies are dull as dust, all those endless shots of trees and rivers and shit. Even if it’s supposed to be a true adventure story about some historical frontiersman, so what? Where are the explosions and car chases and monkeys doing funny things? You know who liked nature films? Grandparents! Grandparents loved them because they were wholesome and taught valuable lessons. They insisted on dragging their grandkids to them because they didn’t have to worry about being embarrassed or having to define certain words on the trip home.

The handful of films Sunn Classic released in their first three years—most all of them wilderness adventures about solitary manly sorts learning to dominate nature in one way or another—did okay. They didn’t lose money, but they also didn’t become runaway hits.

In 1974, even after several rewrites, no one at Sunn Classic Pictures had high hopes for the next film on the docket, something called The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams. Sure, it was loosely based on an historical figure who again fled the corruption of the modern world to live in the wilderness, befriending a grizzly bear along the way. But the character was not some stalwart and steely-eyed Ubermensch—he was gentle and kind-hearted. What the hell were they going to do with that?

Enter Charles Sellier, and the second technique that would be central to Sunn Classic’s success. Sellier, today considered one of Sunn’s true founders together with Rayland Jensen, was a recently-converted Mormon in his thirties, as well as the author of the 1972 novel upon which Grizzly Adams was based. As Sunn’s new executive producer, he had a different—and eventually hugely influential—approach to marketing films.

Sellier set aside an estimated $85,000 for market research before a new film went into production. This involved targeting the desired demographic with door-to-door and telephone interviews asking housewives and construction workers what kind of movies they would like to see. This also involved screening early rushes from films currently in production for hand-picked test audiences in order to get their reactions and advice. This is, of course, standard operating procedure now, but it was radical back then, and something that mortified directors and screenwriters. In some cases Sellier even had members of the test audience wired to biometric scanners to measure their reactions to the scenes they were being shown, and use those reactions to have a script rewritten more to the test audience liking. If audience pulse rates went up whenever a certain character was on screen, well, they’d build up that role. If a certain animal warmed their hearts, well, maybe they’d make a whole movie about that particular animal.

Sellier’s method of crowd-sourced filmmaking was first tried on The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams, and sure enough, the film, starring former viker movie regular Dan Haggerty, became Sunn’s first bona fide international hit, bringing in over $20 million. The film was such a smash among grandparents it quickly spawned a Sunn-produced TV series, which was also a big hit among grandparents. To date, the Grizzly Adams franchise remains Sunn’s biggest cash cow.

But something else happened in 1974 that would help make that iconic Sunn Classic logo as familiar and comforting as the Toho, American International, Shaw Brothers and Troma logos. To some of us, anyway.

In 1968, Erich Von Daniken published Chariots of the Gods?, a book which argued, through some mighty suspect and loosely interpreted archaeological evidence, that aliens had visited Earth thousands of years ago, and among other things helped build the Egyptian and Mexican Pyramids, Stonehenge and the statues on Easter island. It was one of the first major hallmarks of the High Strangeness Culture to come.  Originally published in Germany, the book became an International sensation among those with a very high tolerance for pseudoscience, pseudohistory, and bullshit in general..

In 1970, German director Harald Reinl made a documentary based on von Daniken’s book, and it, too, became a big hit across Europe. As sillyassed as the whole thing was, I’d argue the film was even more effective than the book thanks to the visual presentation of all the supposed evidence.

Well, after seeing how much money Chariots of the Gods? Was pulling in overseas, and interested in such topics himself, American TV producer Alan Landsburg acquired the U.S. rights, re-edited the filmn, brought in Rod Serling to narrate, and broadcast it in 1973 as In Search of Ancient Astronauts. It would be the first of a trilogy of TV documentaries about ancient astronauts produced by Landsburg and narrated by Serling.

Noting the ratings that Landsburg doc brought in, as well as that European box office, Sunn obtained the US theatrical rights to In Search of Ancient Astronauts, changed the title back to Chariots of the Gods? And began four-walling it around the country in 1974. It didn’t matter that by that time countless articles and books had completely debunked all of von Daniken’s claims, nor that critics had savaged the film, in some cases even calling it racist for purporting indigenous people in Mexico, Africa an elsewhere could never have created these wonders by themselves. The picture made money. It may not have been Grizzly Adams money, but enough to leave Sellier and Jensen convinced they might be onto something with these documentaries about weird shit. Documentaries were even cheaper to make than nature films, and the demographic they were aiming at seemed eager to believe in monsters and aliens and conspiracies, so there you go. For the next five years, along with the wilderness adventures and wholesome TV adaptations of Huck Finn and Gulliver’s Travels,  Sunn gave the half-wits like me what we wanted.

In 1975, Sunn picked up the theatrical distrobution rights To The Outer Space Connection, the last of Landsburg’s ancient astronaut trilogy (as well as one of the last things Rod Serling worked on before he died). This final entry argued not only that aliens had visited earth thousands of years ago, but had planted humans here in the first place and had been guiding our evolution ever since. This wasn’t exactly a new idea, and could be traced back, so far as I’m aware, at least to Nigel Kneale’s 1958 BBC miniseries Quatermass and The Pit. But the film, directed by Fred Warshofsky, went several crazy steps beyond Kneale, claiming we know exactly where the aliens came from and why, that the Mayans were themselves aliens, and that these same aliens would return to Earth on Christmas Eve, 2011.

The TV documentaries made enough of a splash for Landsburg that he parlayed them into the above-mentioned weekly In Search Of… series, which began airing in 1977, right around the same time Grizzly Adams hit the airwaves.

Both Chariots of the Gods? And The Outer Space Connection helped cement the template that would define the rest of the Sunn-produced High Strangeness documentaries that would follow, making them so effective on the young, the susceptible, and the merely desperate. The real key, it seems, far beyomd the film’s actual content, was conscripting an authoritative host/narrator who can present the most insane pseudoscientific theories and shaky evidence with a straight face while repeatedly using terms like “indisputable,” “Proven beyond a doubt,” and “scientists agree.”: “It’s an incontrovertible fact these ancient carvings prove alien visitors walked on Earth over five hundred centuries ago.” It was the simplest of carnival sideshow techniques, but one that kept drawing suckers to the theaters.

The same year they released The Outer Space Connection, Sunn also released The Mysterious Monsters, which was less a documentary than a series of vignettes about Bigfoot, the Yeti, and The Loch Ness Monster. Director Robert Guenette had been making what you might call speculative Sunn-style documentaries long before Sunn even existed, so he was in familiar territory. In fact, The Mysterious Monsters includes scenes borrowed from Guenette’s 1974 TV movie, Monsters: Mysteries or Myths?, which coincidentally had been narrated by Rod Serling. The (mostly) new and expanded Sunn production was hosted by Peter Graves, who was as straight-faced as they come. In between shots of Graves and ten other men in cowboy hats wandering the forest on horseback looking for Bigfoot, we get eyewitness accounts from those who claim to have actually seen Bigfoot, Nessie, or the Yeti. Unlike most Bigfoot films of the era (and there were a bunch), The Mysterious Monsters infers a decided fearlessness and hostility on Bigfoot’s part, claiming he not only terrorized innocent victims, but wandered into the suburbs to terrorize them. The recreated Bigfoot encounters here are kind of fun, and in fact the film contains two solid scares, at least if you’re nine. Nessie and the Yeti get short shrift, and those scenes of Graves riding through the forest with that hopeless hunting party are interminable, but the picture was another big hit,arriving at precisely the right time given 1975 was a banner year for Bigfoot cinema. In the end, and where he got his information who the hell knows, Graves announces there is a community of some two hundred Bigfeet living in Northern California, though Graves and the hunting party find none of them.

Another hallmark of Sunn’s documentaries was that most inevitably ended with an outlandish, shocking, unexpected, and wholly unsubstantiated claim. The influence of mondo films—Mondo Cane, Africa ama and the like—on Sunn’s documentaries is undeniable. But while mondo films aimed to shock grindhouse audiences with footage (whether real or created) of bizarre and extreme human behavior, Sunn aimed to leave family audiences womderstruck at the possibilities of a mysterious world of magic and monsters just beyond our perceptions.

In 1976, Sunn followed up The Mysterious Monsters with The Amazing World of Psychic Phenomena, also directed by Guenette, this time narrated by Raymond Burr. The film is less a cohesive documentary than another shaggy dog series of vignettes exploring extrasensory perception, astral projection, and telekinesis as well as ghosts and spiritualism, featuring an all-star cast of celebrity psychics including Jeanne Dixon and Uri Geller. Not surprisingly, Burr, who doesn’t seem terribly convinced himself, informs us that there is irrefutable scientific evidence that all these powers are absolutely real and for true.

That same year also saw the release of one of Sunn’s more patently ridiculous outings, In Search of Noah’s ARk, a film which, in many ways, proved a turning point. The film was the first to be hosted/narrated by character actor Brad Crandall, who would go on to narrate most of the remaining Sunn Classic documentaries, as well as appearing in a few of their TV shows. It was directed by James L. Conway, who quickly established himself as Sunn’s go-to in-house director, churning out five or six features and TV movies a year.

Apart from turning to mostly in-house staffers to make their films instead of bringing in outside directors and celebrity hosts, In Search of Noah’s ARk also marked the point at which Sunn further fed their demographic by adding a decidedly fundamentalist Christian focus to many of their films, from Noah’s Ark to their TV series Greatest Heroes of the Bible to two documentaries about near-death experiences to 1979’s (and grammar be damned) In search of Historic Jesus.

In business terms it was a savvy move. To this day, films aimed at a fundamentalist audience, especially if they support a strictly literal interpretation of the Bible, can bring in more money than most Hollywood films. They certainly bring in more than most Mormon themed films, and apparently the more patently ridiculous the involved claims, the better.

The supposed “scientists” who lay out the evidence that the remains of Noah’s honest-to-God ark are still sitting up there on top of Mt. Ararat (should anyone care to take a look) aren’t, um, scientists at all. One, a supposed physics professor, argues there’s a mountain of geological evidence proving the world was deluged by an all-consuming flood, um, five thousand years ago. Another claims the ark was first discovered by a Russian expedition sent by Tsar Nicholas II in 1916, but all the reports and evidence were destroyed by dirty communist revolutionaries, um, two days after the expedition returned. It all goes downhill from there, and you have to feel some pity for the poor gullible fools who believed all this nonsense.

I saw nearly all of Sunn’s documentaries in the theater when I was a kid, and now feel sorry for my mom, dad, and older sister, who I suspect drew straws to see who had to take me whenever a new Sunn picture hit town. When I was ten I bought every last nutty claim. Going back and watching them again four decades later, I find myself blurting, “Wait, what?” Aloud after nearly every scene. They do, however, remain fascinating artifacts and a mirror of a certain psychological makeup. They’re also still fun as hell for all their crazy dumbness, if you keep your critical thinking skills at the ready.

Sunn found themselves in the middle of a shitstorm in 1977 with the release of The Lincoln Conspiracy, also directed by Conway. Historians, critics and the media at large attacked the film for presenting as fact a convoluted conspiracy claiming the assassination of President Lincoln was an inside job, closing, as Oliver Stone’s JFK would years later, with a demand the investigation be reopened. Conway would later claim the film was just a silly speculative docudrama based on a couple recent books, but even the authors of the books denounced the film. Still, a little controversy has never been known to hurt the box office.

Over the next few years Sunn continued to release two or three pseudoscientific documentaries  a year, including Beyond and Back, Beyond Death’s Door, and The Bermuda Triangle, the latter of which claimed all those ships and planes vanished after being zapped by a malfunctioning Atlantean particle bean that was lost somewhere on the ocean floor near Bimini. Bimini? Well, I gotta say, as explanations go, it makes about as much sense as any other.

A personal favorite from the late Sunn era for its sheer nihilistic simplicity was 1979’s Encounter With Disaster, this time directed by Charles Sellier himself. Using his patented market research techniques, he brought a test audience into a theater and showed them dozens of newsreel clips of fires, earthquakes, The Hindenberg, race car crashes and the like, measuring responses to see which were considered the most exciting. He then strung all the most popular disaster footage together and released it as a feature.

Encounter With Disaster was perhaps the one true mondo film Sunn released during their brief heyday, and a definite anomaly. Toward the end, instead of documentary footage, talking heads and manipulative narration, films like The Bermuda Triangle, Beyond Death’s Door and In Search of Historic Jesus cane to rely more on speculative recreations with actors, sets and scripted dialogue. Although a narrator does pop up occasionally to say, in essence, “Yup, this really, really happened!,” the films come off more like splintered docudramas than documentaries, which somehow makes their assorted theses seem even less plausible.

It’s worth pointing out here that In Search of Historic Jesus, as delightfully awful as it is, does, without saying as much, offer a clear case study of the effect Sellier’s marketing machinations could have on a film.

Directed by Sunn’s in-house cinematographer Henning Schellerup (who prior to Sunn had worked on everything from softcore porn to Corman productions) and again narrated by Brad Crandall, Historic Jesus clearly began life as a documentary aiming to present all the independent historical evidence proving the Biblical account of Jesus’ life was accurate. Given there was precious little of that to be found, it became a documentary about the Shroud of Turin. Given there wasn’t really ninety minutes worth of material about the Shroud of Turin, they shot an interview with a fake scientist offering some, um, plausible scientific explanations for the Star of Bethlehem, then plundered some footage from the Noah’s Ark movie (though oddly the data offered in the latter somehow changed between 1976 and 1979). All this left them with a film that was about twenty minutes long.

The film was saved when Sellier gathered a test audience of fundamentalist Christians. After showing them a few scenes, he quickly learned they didn’t need any scientific or historical proof that Jesus really existed. They just wanted to hear more Jesus stories.

Taking their advice, the bulk of the film became a  string of recreations of Jesus’ Greatest Hits acted out by amateur actors playing Jesus, Mary, Herid, Pontius Pilate and assorted disciples. No effort whatsoever is made to prove these recreated scenes actually happened. So instead of a pseudoscientific, pseudohistorical account of the, um, historical figure known as Jesus of Nazareth, it became another Sunday School-ready Jesus movie, all primed and ready to be rented to church groups across the country. In short, then, calling the film In Search of Historic Jesus actually makes sense.

By 1979, Sunn’s documentaries seemed to be running out of gas. They were still turning a profit (especially that Historic Jesus thing), but the profits weren’t what they once were, and the films were costing more to make. Also, other production houses had picked up on the Sunn Classic formula and began releasing High Strangeness docs of their own. In 1978, for instance, Amran Films and RCR released The Late Great Planet Earth, based on “Biblical scholar” Hal Lindsey’s massive bestseller which claimed all the prophecies in the Book of Revelation were coming true, and the long-promised Apocalypse would arrive any day now. If I remember correctly, the world was supposed to end in 1986. The film was hosted and narrated by Orson Wells, who had once been asked to narrate a Sunn film, but was so horrified by their marketing practices he turned down the job.

(A few years later in 1981, Welles would also narrate a documentary about Nostradamus’ prophecies, which was directed, coincidentally enough, by Sunn Classic alumnus Robert Guenette. Just to illustrate how influential Sunn’s experiment had been, The Man Who Saw Tomorrow was distributed by goddamn WARNER BROTHERS, of all places.)

What struck the real death knell to Sunn’s hugely successful string of pseudoscientific and pseudo historical extravaganzas was a changing culture. We were own the brink of Morning in America and the Reagan Era. Interest in silly monsters and psychic phenomena was waning as everyone put the ’70s behind them, focusing instead on the stock market, the threat of nuclear war, cocaine, designer clothes and other tangible real world issues.

Charles Sellier

In 1980 Sunn Classic Pictures was bought out by Taft Enterprises, a Cincinnatti-based conglomerate.  The suits in Taft’s entertainment division had a few ideas of their own about what American moviegoers wanted. When they correctly saw that the days of four-walling were about over as the business ties between the major studios and national theater Chains grew stronger, Charles Sellier walked away to continue writing, producing, directing and marketing films on his own terms. In 1984 he directed the notorious holiday slasher film, Silent Night, Deadly Night, a picture remembered more for its ad campaign than anything in the picture itself. Sellier also later converted from Mormonism to evangelical Christianity.

When Taft likewise decided family friendly entertainment was a dead end, that the market for G-rated wilderness adventures simply wasn’t there anymore, that a film had to be rated PG or R if it hoped to make any money, Jensen and a few other original American National Enterprises refugees quit in disgust, and once again formed their own production company to offer honest American families wholesome entertainment options. Their first film was 1981’s Private Lessons, a teen sex comedy starring Sylvia Kristel. It made a lot of money.

Director James Conway stayed with Taft for awhile, helming several pictures, including the monster movie The Boogens . Interestingly, the very first Taft/Sunn release, perhaps formulated to attract Sunn’s core audience, was the Conway-directed Hangar 18, starring Darren McGavin, Robert Vaughn and Gary Collins. It was the perfect transitional picture, a sci-fi conspiracy thriller loosely based on what might well have been the subject of the next Sunn Classic documentary: Roswell and Area 51. Conway later went on to become an executive at Spelling Entertainment, overseeing a mountain of wildly successful crap.

Over the subsequent decades there were more sales and acquisitions, with the various companies overseeing the Sunn Classic brand themselves being gobbled up by even larger faceless corporate entities. Sunn vanished, then reappeared, then vanished again. Today there are vague, mysterious hints that Sunn Classics Pictures has been re-launched after Rayland Jensen teamed up with Lang Elliott, original founder of Tri-Star Pictures. But if Sunn really has risen from the grave, would it matter?

For good or ill, over the course of that five-year stretch between 1974 and 1979, Sunn Classic Pictures illuminated one strange facet of a very strange era, warped millions of impressionable minds (like mine), fully capitalized on a nation’s despair and collective neuroses, and left an indelible mark on the culture. Take even a cursory glance at what’s airing on the History and Discovery Channels, or at how the marketing departments of any movie studio large or small operates today. They simply wouldn’t be what they are In the second decade of the twenty-first century had it not been for Sunn Classic Pictures., and fore that we can thank the Mormons, a right-wing kook, and Bigfoot.

by Jim Knipfel