#and yes I have the fungus quotes memorized

[shewhowantsmouseears]

morgwing meet-up messy drabble

My year-long-fic-break has been slightly broken, but don’t expect too much. I had enough brain juice in me to write this 3 page silliness.

Still riding the high from @queenie-draws-stuff ‘s rad Morgana redesign, I decided to write a potential “how they met” deal, combining the original Fungus Amongus quotes/situation with Queenie’s Goth Rock set-up.

Additional notes now I think of them before jumping right to what is basically “mel enjoys writing simps”

The Band uses a We Will Rock You style song (been listening to this cover) to hypnotize her fans into attacking Darkwing and the gang.

Halestorm’s cover of Bad Romance is definitely suitable for attacking and flirting with Darkwing at the same time.

At one point, Darkwing gets her guitar away from her and he’s confident “Ahaha! Now that I’ve taken away your magic, you’re helpless!” And Morgana smiles... then bursts into cackles. “Oh, Dark Darling... my guitar isn’t the source of my power. It’s merely a conduit.” (”a... a what”) “In other words...” her hands and eyes glow. “It’s time for the encore, baby.”

OKAY TIME FOR THE SHORT WRITTEN THING ITSELF

In hindsight, this wasn’t the best plan, but in his defense, it worked all the time on a TV show he’d watched as a child. Darkwing paused to think about that train of logic, and pondered if perhaps he should stop trying to plan his investigations that way and instead follow his own instincts next time.

 “OWWWWW BONES DO NOT BEND THAT WAY!”

 If there was a next time. He had assumed the whole goth rock mutant monster image was just that, an image. The guy with two heads, the girl with one eye, the behemoth of a drummer? All of it was just costumes and acting! So when announced his presence in his typical overly dramatic fashion, he assumed they would cower in fear before offering their assistance. Instead, they had jumped him and were now holding his arms behind his back and threatening to tie his limbs into knots. As he continued to squirm in place, he once more tried to plead his innocence.

 “I’m here to HELP!” He cried out, nervously noticing the two-headed terror cracking his knuckles while the one-eyed wonder was pulling out various sharp instruments from her purse, and they definitely weren’t the musical kind. “I was just looking for clues! You know those robberies that have been happening around here, right?! There’s a connection between them and your band!”

 “And now we’re about to disconnect your head from your neck!” Said the left head, and the right headed nodded vigorously.

 Darkwing winced, as the others advanced on him, the grip on his arms tightening. If this was his last day on earth, he really wished his last words to Gosalyn hadn’t been “Remember to run the dishwasher after homework.” He closed his eyes, his brain struggling to think of how to get him out of this sticky situation…

 “HEY!” A sharp - yet familiar – voice broke through the scene. “What’s going on here?! We do not treat our fans this way! Put him down!”

 It took less than a second for Darkwing to recognize the voice – this was the singer of the band, after all. When Gosalyn had showed him the link to her new favorite indie band, Darkwing had taken a compulsory listen without paying attention to the visuals, as he was busy trying to pin down the strange case of robberies where the victims couldn’t remember being robbed at all. The singer was definitely talented, a strong but sultry voice that Darkwing certainly wouldn’t have minded listening to on a loop. But it’d been also terribly distracting, so he hadn’t tried to give the music video any attention. Once again, this proved to have been not the best idea in hindsight.

 Because then he would have prepared for the absolute bombshell that walked through the curtains.

 Darkwing opened one eye to see his savior, and then both eyes were not only open, but they were also quite wide in shock. The woman in question was a leggy stunner, her black and white hair parted over one side and trailing down her eerily pale feathers like a shadowy walk lit by moonlit. Sharp green eyes pierced right through his heart, analyzing him as he stood there in a slack-jawed stupor. She adjusted her blood-red guitar over her back, the crimson and black spider-web outfit giving him the feeling he’d be the fly that eagerly walked into this parlor any day. She rested one hand on her hip, and snapped her fingers – even her nails were unique – long, sharp, yellow, and deadly.

 Darkwing had no more time to realize he had a type and she was it when he was let go and dropped to the floor. As he scrambled to get up and dust himself off, the one-eyed woman huffed. “We caught this weirdo sneaking around here, Morgana.”

 Morgana held up a hand, signaling for silence. “I got this, Cornea.” She looked Darkwing up and down once more before smiling in amusement. “I believe this is where you introduce yourself.” She offered her hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, mister…?”

 “D-Dingwing Dork.”  Darkwing sputtered, his palm feeling incredibly sweaty in her delicate hand. He was quick to realize his mistake, yelped, and fumbled with his hands and hat as he tried to make his brain calm down. “DARK! Darkwing Duck! Dark-Darkwing Duck.” After a hard throat clear, he tried to pretend he hadn’t made an absolute fool of himself several times, tipping his hat politely, doing a gentlemanly bow, and ignoring the various eyerolls of the other band-mates. “At your service.”

 “What an unusual name,” Morgana commented, lightly tilting his beak up with one of her fingers, closing the gap between them for a few but very, very personal seconds. “But then you appear to be very unusual… I like that.” When she pulled away, it was a sheer miracle Darkwing didn’t fall forward, though he certainly leaned in enough to make it a close call. “We were just wrapping up rehearsal. We want to close up shop early, what with all those midnight robberies going on.”

 Darkwing stopped for a second, befuddled. “Hang on. How did you know they were midnight robberies?” He was fairly certain that was something the press hadn’t leaked, and he’d only just figured out the timeline a day before.

 Morgana froze in place – eyes quickly shooting to her fellow players – before rolling her shoulders, readjusting her guitar so that it slid back into her arms. “I… deduced it.”

 Maybe if Launchpad and Gosalyn were there – the former to ask more questions, the latter to smack some sense into him – Darkwing would have taken greater notice of that lengthy pause. Instead? She deduced it, he thought, his heart doing cartwheels. My kinda woman. Despite his clear problematic infatuation, his brain did have enough cells left to ask another important question. “Isn’t it kind of… peculiar… to hold a rehearsal this late?”

 Morgana plucked a few notes off her guitar, walking back onto the front of the stage, the curtains now perfectly parted to show the moon shining down from the ceiling – the venue, such as it was, had certainly seen better days. But now the various holes above seemed to be an improvement rather than something that needed fixing. “I enjoy the night,” she answered, and then playfully added, “Besides, the sun is so harsh on my skin.”

 “You know…” Darkwing casually strolled up to Morgana’s side, his previous predicament forgotten already, “I’m something of a creature of the night myself.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

 Morgana chuckled quietly. “I bet we have a lot in common, Darkwing. In fact…” She lightly nudged the guitar’s neck into Darkwing’s actual neck, enjoying the audible tiny ‘eep’ his flustered mouth made. “I bet we could make beautiful music together.”

[nottodaylogic]

Insert Cool Demigod AU Title—Chapter 3

Summary: People get claimed. People are gay. There are sword fights that are more nerdy than possible to describe in a summary. The action finally gets started, kind of. It’s kind of montage-y. I just really wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible.

Word count: 1641 words I think?

Pairings: Platonic LAMP, romantic Logicality and Prinxiety (eventually)

Warnings: Sword fights, intense nerdiness, pining, the mortal disease of Gay, the Princess Bride

A/N: OKAY NOW WE CAN GET THINGS STARTED! ...in the next chapter. I’m tired and this chapter feels complete-ish. Also I totally haven’t memorized the entirety of the Princess Bride, noooooo! ANYWAYS, this is based off of @becca-becky ‘s Demigod AU, go give ‘em some love! I have nothing else to say, enjoy!

“The Hulk is THE strongest person! How could he not take care of some bees?!”

“Is his skin vulnerable to bee stings?”

“I DON’T KNOW?!”

“Now now, tiny little hedgehogs, no need to fight.”

“We are not fighting, we are debating. There is a difference.”

“...tiny little hedgehogs?”

“Make like a ball of spikes and roll with it, Virgil.”

Said boy rolled his eyes at Roman’s words. Two weeks had passed by fast, and Virgil found himself denying attachments to his three companions more than expected. They had grown on him. Like toe fungus or strangling creeper vines.

“Bees are faster than the Hulk,” continued Logan, “and numerous as well. They can swarm around him and make him tired."

"But even if bee stings can penetrate his skin, an annoyed Hulk is an angry Hulk is a strong Hulk is a smash Hulk!" Roman slammed his fists on the table in emphasis. "SMASH!"

"But the bees can scatter before the Hulk smashes them! Fast!" Logan seemed very passionate about the bees.

"What do you think, Virgil?" Patton asked. He started a little at having to give an opinion, but after a moment of thought, spoke:

"Well, the bees might be fast, but they aren't as strong as the Hulk. Also, don't they die after stinging? He can just clap his hands and boom, dead bees."

Roman pumped his fists in the air, shouting a victorious cheer as Logan delivered a convincing counterargument, scowling. Who-even-knows children, honestly.

That insult wasn’t really effective when they hadn't been claimed yet.

"CAN YOU QUIET IT DOWN OVER THERE?!" A random camper yelled. "WE'RE TRYING TO ROAST MARSHMALLOWS!"

"Jeez, that guy is not a--"

"NO--"

"Happy camper!" Patton grinned as Logan groaned into his hands.

"Why do I even try? That wasn’t even a pun!”

"SSSHHHHH!"

The other campers resumed their marshmallow roasting. There was singing of campfire songs about grandmothers putting on armor. All was peaceful. Everything was good. It was all well.

Roman leaned over and stage-whispered: “Hulk has bee-proof skin.”

That started the argument all over again.

They kept at it for quite a while, the darkness comforting, the magical fire roaring, debating Avengers vs. insects. Bees were insects, were they? Virgil didn’t know these things. He wasn’t Logan.

A glowing brown sheath of wheat materialized over Patton's head. He didn't notice. No one did.

Except Virgil.

“Hey, Patton, maybe look up?” He said, trying to silently send the message of  ‘LOOK AT THE MAGICAL WHEAT ABOVE YOUR HEAD!’.

He failed.

"Did someone say puppy?!" Patton was frantically searching for a small dog. "WHERE WHERE WHERE?????"

"No, LOOK!" Patton finally got the hint and looked up. His eyes widened.

"WHAT." He swatted at it, trying to get it to disappear. People were finally beginning to notice (because a radiant brown sign above people’s heads isn’t the most subtle thing ever), and were whispering.

Virgil suddenly got a sinking feeling that Patton was not the only one to be claimed tonight, and his head slowly swiveled to look at Logan.

A blue owl was shining above Logan's head, and all he could do was stare.

"What..."

"AAAAA I'M GLOWING PINK?????"

Roman was now decked from head to toe in a pink glowing aura. There was a rose-colored dove above his head, but of course, Aphrodite was a freaking meanie and just had to change his clothes too.

Roman’s clothes had changed into an Ancient Greek dress (because he looked magnificent in any clothes, no matter the gender). His makeup was done, and though Virgil knew nothing about makeup (like he knew nothing about worrying, honestly, stop lying already!) he knew Roman looked...

"Stunning..." he muttered. He might have been blushing, but no one could prove it. He had white foundation and a pale complexion working for him. Roman was, indeed, utterly and completely beautiful.

Virgil was freaking gay.

Well.

Time to die now.

Everyone else got to their knees, including Chiron, and Virgil was quick to follow. Logan, Patton, and Roman were the only ones left standing.

"All hail, Patton Morobus, son of Demeter, goddess of harvest. Logan Teach, son of Athena, goddess of Wisdom. Roman Royaume, son of Aphrodite, goddess of love."

Of course, the claiming didn’t dissuade them from returning to the truly important topic at hand.

“Hulk!”

“Bees!”

“Oh my gods.”

———

Many weeks after Virgil’s he-stopped-counting-long-ago gay awakening (Team Hulk totally won the debate, by the way, but don’t tell Logan), the four were training. Logan had acquired a sword, Patton had been granted a magical trowel that turned into a spear, and Roman… well, Roman was an indecisive little—

“WATCH OUT!”

A flying spear shot last Virgil, narrowly missing his hoodie. Which he wore. In the middle of summer. Yes.

“SORRY!” Patton ran past him to retrieve his spear, which had missed the target by miles.

“It’s fine, I didn’t need my head anyways,” Virgil replied weakly.

“Why are you even throwing that so close to people?” Logan asked, adjusting his glasses. “You could hit someone.”

"I'm hunting, Lo!" Patton grinned in that special special way that meant a pun was coming.

"Don't you dare--"

"I'm on the trowel!"

Logan groaned. "You ruined it. You ruined the moment. You ruined me. Why."

"Love you too Lo!"

Logan choked on air, sputtering. Virgil grinned evilly, grabbing his dark angsty skull staff from the ground.

“You know you walked right into that.”

“No? I didn’t?” Logan sighed. “Hey, where the heck is Roman?”

“Who knows.”

Speak of the beauty child, Roman walked around the corner, tiara on his head, in his hand was a—

“Is that a samurai sword?!”

Roman hefted it up. “Why yes it is, Anthony Lockbrood.”

“...how did you manage to get worse with your nicknames?!”

“Who knows? Not I, not I.”

“...you’re the one creating them,” Virgil pointed out.

Logan let out an exasperated noise. “Oh my gosh can you just train?!”

“Sorry Lo.”

“Sorry Lo.”

They headed to a different part of the arena, leaving Patton and Logan to flirt in peace.

“So,” said Roman, handing Virgil a sword. “Shall we begin?”

“We shall.”

—

Patton was swinging around the spear, clearly with no idea what he was doing. He looked adorable doing it, of course, anything he did was adorable, but he was obviously clueless. Logan walked over to help him in order to attempt to silence his feelings. He failed.

“Do you wish for assistance?” Patton started, dropping his spear. He retrieved it, blushing.

“If you could help, that’d be swell!”

Logan quirked a brow at his word choice. “Swell?”

“It just came to mind!”

“Okay then.” Logan walked over to Patton, and grabbed hold of his hands. Patton flushed harder, and it was all Logan could do to keep from doing the same.

“What are you doing, Lo?” Patton asked, Logan’s hands covering his on the spear.

“I—you need to adjust your grip slightly.” Logan moved Patton’s hands on the spear so they were in the right position. He kept his hands there far longer than was strictly necessary, but neither said a word. They were too busy yelling in their thoughts. Two awkward gays.

Their eyes met.

Logan suddenly realized what he was doing, and pulled away, putting precious, regrettably precious distance between them.

“I—um—you—your strikes should be better now,” he stammered, trying to play it cool. He failed. Miserably.

“Okay.” Patton was blushing still, his adorable turquoise eyes shining. “Thank you, Logan.”

“I—you’re welcome.”

Logan was gay.

Really gay.

After a few more minutes of torture, the pair walked back to where they’d left Roman and Virgil, to find them reenacting the fight beside the Cliffs of Insanity. Roman had his sword up against Virgil’s practice one, and the latter was pressed up against the fence.

“You cannot tell because of my mask, but I am smiling,” said Virgil.

“And why is that?”

“I am not left-handed either!”

Virgil all but tossed the sword into his other hand, and they began (or perhaps continued) their duel. Their swords clashed as they fought.

Logan could only stare. Patton clapped and cheered for both of them. Neither of the duelers paid attention, entirely focused on their fight.

They kept quoting the Princess Bride at each other. They were both intense and complete nerds. This was saying something, coming from Logan. Finally, after many minutes of fighting, Roman was on his knees, and Virgil circled him like a herbivore circling a particularly nice patch of grass.

That simile did not work particularly well.

Eh.

“I would sooner kill Da Vinci than destroy an artist such as yourself,” Virgil was saying. Dang, he really knew this movie. Or book. It was both a movie and a book. Not enough people knew that. “However, since I can’t have you following me, blah blah get knocked out scrub.” He smacked Roman across the head with the butt of his sword.

Instead of falling gracefully, Roman yelled and clutched his head, rolling on the grass.

“Dude! That actually hurt!” He rubbed his head. “Why?!”

“You were the one who chose Inigo Montoya,” Virgil said.

“I only said the first line as Inigo! You were the one who didn’t let me switch!”

“Uhh, you should have chosen Westley, then.”

“But Inigo speaks first!”

“What is happening?” Logan said. They finally seemed to notice that Logan and Patton existed. Roman jumped to his feet as Virgil adjusted his hoodie (which was tied around his head like a mask).

“We were simply practicing our sword-fighting skills, that is all!” Roman declared.

“YOU WERE AWESOME!” Patton exclaimed. “I liked it when you went shoom, shoom, and when YOU were like, CHING CHING, and it was really great!”

No one knew how to respond to that.

Luckily, they didn’t have to, because in a case of extremely convenient timing, the dinner shell sounded.

TAGLIST:

@hamilin-manuel-miranda

@anony-phangirl

@llamaly

@katatles-the-fish

@221b-quote

@storytellerofuntoldlegends

@6tick6tock6

@jayzwonderland

@yay-im-fucking-trash

@notalwaysthevillian

@hi-disappointed-im-daughter

@exit-stage-left

@pathetical-errors

@heir-of-the-founders

@oneacearmy

@neonb-fly

@a-time-traveling-whovian

[aceofwands]

Ria hateblogs Discovery Episode 3: “Context doesn’t make this show any better Is For Kings” (originally livelogged to @kendradaynes and a car full of her friends)

(I’m only watching this now cause I was waiting to watch it with my Dad, but today he told me he didn’t want to!)

I’m sorry, miners for the war effort? yes. the Federation DEFINITELY uses forced labour (just like it definitely sentences Starfleet officers to life in prison instead of dishonourably discharging them)

oh but it’s okay, cause these prisoners are racist! “Andorians are cold in all the wrong places” fuck OFF with this bigotry in Federation citizens

... there are ... electricity eating ... space bugs ... eating the shuttle ... 

oh and now the pilot’s dead?!!! what IS this rubbish

oh

oh I see

this is all so they could introduce the Discovery with maximum drama

(of course it is, everything this show does is based on ‘what will look the coolest and make the least sense?’)

also, it arrived just in time to conveniently tractor their prison shuttle (wait, is this a warp shuttle? didn’t TOS shuttles, y’know, not have warp drives?) buuut not save the pilot who was JUST THERE with a transporter I guess?

w o w the Discovery design is even worse than the schematics in the title sequence suggested

... we have a Starfleet security chief who just said “I see we’re here to unload all kinds of garbage today” to the prisoners

THIS IS SO FUCKING WRONG

honestly, I’m surprised mutiny is even a problem in this AU verse (no fucking way is this prime) considering what colossal assholes every Starfleet officer is on this show

omg “silver shirts” “black badge” what is it with these endless attempts to be ~edgy~

... Michael is getting in a fight with the prisoners entirely for drama

seriously why does this scene exist? it makes no sense (the Captain wanted to see her anyway, the prisoners are in the brig, no one ate anything)

oh cool cool cool the security chief just said Vulcans should stick to logic and dissed their martial arts ... is everyone here racist???

oh lord here we go, time to meet edge lord Lorca (why is he American)

... ... he needs light to change slowly because of a recent battle injury NOT because this show needs pointlessly dramatic lighting to make its mundane nonsense writing ~exciting~

also he has a glass standing desk with a bowl of fortune cookies ... I can’t

riiiight Michael is refusing to help Lorca and he’s like ‘lol I don’t care, you don’t have a choice’

I hate everything about this

his mission is 'ending the war', and ofc he needs Michael's help

whyyyy can't they just make a regular Star Trek show

oh lord, WHY does everyone love Cadet Tilly?

black ... alert 

~mysterious science things~

it's SO BAD omfg

lord, Saru's first officer on the Discovery how

he's eating blueberries out of a glass bowl while they walk ... w h y 

it's all just so negative. it's fucking gloomy. everyone's weird and ~quirky~ or ~mysterious~

she's mostly wandering around engineering being confused cause no one's telling her anything for drama

lord Lieutenant Stamets has arrived. he's a colossal ass. poor Anthony Rapp, you deserve better

20 mins in I'm sooooo bored

it's trying SO HARD to be dramatic. and it's so FLAT

Michael just found a flaw in Stamets code and the ~dramatic music~ is playing. even though it's boring as

also there's a breath test to enter the engineering lab, and Michael is using Tilly's snoring breath to enter

WHY

you said you weren't gonna cause trouble Michael

the lab has idk something growing looks like seaweed

even the fucking computer voice sounds wrong

uuuuuuuuuuugh

Stamets is arguing with Lorca

I hate this. so much.

I might not agree with Roddenberry’s edict that Starfleet crews shouldn’t have conflict, but this goes way, way too far in the opposite direction

omg the fucking warp effects

oh lord the tac vests are back

I haaaate Tilly. omg. how does everyone love her?

I kinda like that Stamets hates Michael, because I don't like her either. but seriously, everyone's just an ASS

what does this awful dialogue even mean??? he's having a dramatic bitch about how he and his partner's fungus research was supposed to discover the ~building blocks of the universe~ but how it's been co-opted for war. 

they're trying soooo hard to make it mysterious that it's just like, who cares

ewwwww got up to the gross stuff. oh and now we're in a monster movie!

idk, I feel like I'd appreciate all of this a lot more if it wasn't pretending to be a normal Trek series, and wasn't promised as more Star Trek.

like if they'd said, we're making a horror action drama set in the Trek universe, I'd be like 'okay cool'

this Klingon just shushed the Fleet crew and this monster ate him ... was I supposed to be excited or impressed by any of this? it’s just a whole lotta who gives a fuck tbh

non red shirt is dead. ewwwwwwwwww talk about body horror  D:  they got like ... twisted in whatever mysterious accident happened

Michael's lured the creature off into the Jefferies Tubes while the others escape

ohhhhh lord

FUCKS SAKE

Michael is reciting lines from Alice in Wonderland WHILE CRAWLING THROUGH THE JEFFERIES TUBES

NO. (NO ONE DOES THAT. NO ONE. IT’S FUCKING STUPID!)

OMFG. she just dropped out of the tubes through a hatch straight into the shuttle which had its top hatch open. I can't even. STOP TRYING TO BE COOL SHOW

seriously, this is exactly what Michael Piller was talking about in that quote I shared the other day: “there’s a new kind of action writing in Hollywood ... it begins with identifying ‘set pieces’, big self-contained action moments that are thrilling and memorable, and then finding some way way to string all your set pieces into a coherent narrative.” 1701% that is how Discovery is written.

Saru: "You were always a good officer, until you weren't." so much ~angst~

Lorca: "don't worry about Starfleet, they gave me discretion to fight this war however I see fit" THAT'S NOT HOW STARFLEET WORKS (and there’s no fucking way ONE GUY is in charge of the entire war effort)

Michael thinks they're building a biological spore based weapon against the Geneva Conventions and that's what they need her help for

NO. they just site to site transported. they can't DO THAT YET.

Lorca is explaining that they're developing a biological propulsion drive. with these spores ... ooookay this scene makes no sense. she's standing in a chamber they put these spores into. and then he just pressed some buttons and showed her on the surface of a bunch of planets???  I don't understand this nonsense

Lorca chose her because she was ~right~ about the Klingons at the battle of the binary stars ... no. no she wasn’t. the whole prelude was fucking dumb and that makes this all so much harder to stomach.

now he's offering her a fortune cookie asking what she wished for. "you helped start a war, don't you wanna help me end it?' sigh.

there are bits ... I don't entirely hate ... I mean it's REALLY DUMB. don't get me wrong.

ohhh now we're getting the gross Lorca and security chief Landry ominous scene

he's in a lab of horrors ???? he has a Cardassian Vole HOW

HE BEAMED THE MONSTER ON BOARD DISCOVERY. WTF. WHYYYYYY

I was starting to not 100% hate you show! (just 99%)

and then you go and RUIN IT