#he has all these boxes where he checks off for sympathetic villain and has the dramatics for it

[fluffypotatey]

I don't know if you know Pokemon, but there's this popular comic about Larry getting isekai-ed to the Pokemon world from our world and he's like "aight so I immediately went ok and went to get a job and pay pokemon taxes" and that's how I see Macky. makes sense how he's so full of rage and evil when his last memory might have been a brutal death and centuries in the diyuu. but still, you'd think he'd be a smidge more crazy sometimes, what up with the fake heroism and charisma and "yeah im just gonna ignore that kid that just fell off trying to climb up here" face until MK teleported in front of him???? but alas, he do be an actor. also cracks me up how they make him go "haha! you unloaded all your secret insecurities on me! but hey, no shame in that, its good to talk about your feelings, I don't really do it...maybe I should, buuuut we'd be here all day so >:)" like not only is that a hilarious call out about villains having trauma trope, but the 'maybe I should' and that there's so much of it, like blub u good 😭 am I watching a crack video. but how he laughs at the start there like you think accidental therapy monkey status is a big "gotcha" moment?? clown behavior. funniest thing to evil laugh about he looks manic and insane about it, what if I toss him out the window affectionately.

who tf is larry?

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Okay, I don't get it: What does goblin rebellion has anything to do with Jewish? I've seen many people getting angry about it, but I don't know why.

I am far from being the best person to explain this. I am not Jewish, so if I get any part of this wrong, I humbly ask any Jewish readers who come across this post to let me know so I can make corrections.

But my understanding of it is this: The Potterverse Goblins are problematic because Goblins are problematic in general. In theory, they're not supposed to be. In theory, they're just another fantastical creature like fairies or dragons, right? Well, not exactly. The Goblin fulfils a number of stereotypes, and in all likelihood traces it's origin back to offensive caricatures of Jewish people. You can read a lot more about this here, and it's explained far better than I ever could - but the bottom line is that at least one version of Goblin mythology ("cornish knockers") specifically cites them as being the souls of Jews who are condemned for their sins....so um, yikes. While the Goblin race has probably been fleshed out enough beyond those origins that it could could theoretically be "reclaimed" at this point...that is, frankly, not our decision to make.

I'm also not saying that using Goblins in your story automatically means you're an Anti-Semite. (It would be a stretch, for instance, to assume Stan Lee was antisemitic just because he invented The Green Goblin.) Like I said earlier, it's very possible for authors to simply not know this bit of history. (Though if this teaches us anything, it's that a little bit of research can go a long way.) I was completely clueless about all this myself, until just a few years ago. I couldn't understand the problem either. While I personally doubt that Rowling knew, or did this on purpose...her interpretation of the Goblins is still troubling. Most people are finding it very difficult to give her the benefit of the doubt on this, because at least on paper, the Potterverse Goblins check off all the boxes. Everything from their design, with the long, hooked noses...to their miserly behavior, to the point where they are the bankers of the Potterverse...yeah, it's not a great look. If you put Goblin culture under a microscope, I tend to think it's actually supposed to be a metaphor for white imperialism, but all of the stereotypes involved are still there.

Which brings us to Harry Potter: Hogwarts Legacy. At this moment, I feel that it's important to reiterate that I am not Jewish, and this is going to stray a bit further into speculation on my part. Again, please set me straight if I'm off course. But the plot of this game, so I hear, is going to be centered around one of the famous "Goblin Rebellions" that Harry learned about in History of Magic. Again, at first glance, there's nothing wrong with that. But I can see why it's rubbing people the wrong way. With how often Jewish people have been victimized throughout history, (and holy fuck, have they been through the ringer) it's possible to draw a parallel between the Goblin Rebellion and real world history. The problem is that in real life, The Jews were, y'know, the victims during these incidents...and seeing as how the player is going to be controlling a human character, something tells me that The Goblins in this game will be depicted as the villains. Now, maybe they'll make this a three-dimensional conflict. Maybe they'll flesh out The Goblin characters. Maybe they'll be sympathetic, maybe we'll have the choice to side with them.

But that's a lot of "maybe's."

There's also the timing. People are already wary around Rowling after she revealed herself as a transphobe, which is the sort of damage you just can't fix or take back - not that she's in any way trying to. But I wonder if recent events have inspired a healthy degree of paranoia. Now that Rowling has chosen to openly side with bigots, nothing is off the table: Maybe Dumbledore's story is written to be homophobic. Maybe the House Elves are glorifying slavery. Not saying that I think either of these things are true, but these are classic criticisms of the original books, and now they have a precedent. In the wake of all this, creating a game where the plot centralizes the oft criticized Goblins certainly isn't helping. This game couldn't have come at a worse time for Rowling or the Harry Potter brand.

[amintyworld]

The Return - Dream SMP 12 Years AU

A/N: Hey guys! Welcome to another introduction to a AU idea I had with a lotta fluff and angst. May write more with this AU because I have a lot of ideas for it. Hope you enjoy and as always, if you have any questions about this AU at all, my ask box is always open, I'd love to talk about this.

By the way, for the enderman text I used this translator that my friend @griffintail uses in her work as well. It was really helpful and you guys should totally check out her work on her blog, she's awesome. - Minty

Summary: 12 years after the Bench Trio, Wilbur, Sam and Sapnap kill Dream for good and burn the revive book, the masked man returns on a plan for revenge.

TW: Blood/gore, kidnapping, torture, attempted murder, murder, implied character death, running away, denial, cursing, sympathetic dream? (He's a ghost). (Tell me if I need to tag anything else!) (Also, shippers get off my lawn please and thank you.)

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Michael’s eyes narrowed as someone, a stranger he couldn’t recognize slowly approached the house. That bright green hoodie and weird mask made his instincts flare, sensing danger. He jumped down, getting out his sword as he slowly walked to greet the intruder. His Dads and Uncle Technoblade trained him well enough that a plan was already forming in his head, going over the stock he had on him in his mind, prepared for whatever the stranger was planning to do.

A golden ax hung from the masked man’s back, a smile peeking out from under that smooth porcelain-like surface that the zombie piglin couldn’t tell if it was friendly or sinister. Finally, they were about five feet apart, facing each other. Michael pulled the cloak around him slightly more as a cold wind blew through the field. “Who are you? What are you doing on Snowchester Property?”

The man just stared at him, looking at him up and down.

“Answer me, dammit!”

“Michael, right?” The masked man walked toward him casually. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”

“Not another step!” Michael shouted, pointing his enchanted netherite sword threateningly at the stranger, who looked almost amused at this action, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “How do you know my name?!”

“Oh, your parents didn’t tell you? We’re family.”

“...family?”

“Not by blood, of course. I’m more like... a friend. A family friend. Your parents and I were very close back in the day, I just came by for a visit.”

“A visit…? If you’re so close with my parents how come you haven’t visited before?”

“You know how adventuring can be - it takes up a lot of time, you know.” The masked man smiled and made Michael’s gut churn uncomfortably. “I’ve heard so much about you, Michael.” The stranger kept walking towards the teenager, his hands up casually. “It’s been so long, we should really spend some time and catch up-”

“NO! No. Stay… stay right there. Don’t… don’t you dare fucking move, you got that?!” The man stopped around three feet away from him now. “Now you either tell me your name or I’m putting this blade through your teeth.”

The man sighed. “Pity. I was really hoping to get to talk with you peacefully, Michael. You seem like a nice kid.”

“What?”

Quickly and flawlessly, the masked intruder pulled out his ax and Michael quickly readied his sword, ready for a fight. What he didn’t expect was for the intruder to get some air and run up the wall of the mansion, landing down the blow with a lot more force than the zombie piglin expected, and he dug his hooves into the snow, somehow keeping himself from getting knocked over completely. Using all of his strength he pushed the intruder off, scrambling for a strength potion as the man tackled him to the ground. “Nuh-uh, that’s cheating.” Michael was quick to grab his sword and defend, moving to strike against his neck. The masked man moved to dodge, the black string of his mask getting nicked by Michael’s blade, making it begin to fall to start to reveal blonde hair and cold green eyes that were somewhat familiar to Michael, though he couldn’t figure out from where. As he hesitated, the man’s eyes flared with anger. Within seconds he’d pulled Michael’s arm against his back toward his shoulder blade, making the piglin feel like his arm was going to snap. He grunted in pain, reaching to grab his sword that got knocked into the snow when he felt the press of an ax against his neck, enough pressure to feel the sharpness of the blade. The zombie piglin could hear his heartbeat in his ears, swallowing his fear.

“I’m Dream, though I think you already know who I am.” Dream huffed against the piglin’s desperate struggle, the familiar adrenaline rushing through his veins from a victory. Of course, Michael knew the stories - his Dads and Uncle Tommy defeated that psychopath 12 years ago. They killed him, how the fuck was he alive?! The blade pressed harder against Michael’s neck as it began to draw a bit of blood. “Stop struggling.” Dream relished how much he’d missed all this, how much he’d missed being in control. “You and I are gonna have a little chat.”

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Ranboo hauled his basket of carrots and potatoes beside him as he reached down to grab some of the new harvests. A snowstorm was coming in soon, and they needed to stock up for the coming colder months. Their farms grew so big that a few of them set up shop in front of the old decommissioned prison, Pandora’s Box. Twelve years ago Ranboo, Tubbo, and Tommy had faced that prison head-on, fighting their old allies turned foes, death at nearly every turn they took. They succeeded with a little help, burying the body a little outside of the prison walls and never looking back. The three of them faced many more trials after that, growing close as years passed and the server became peaceful as it used to be back in the beginning. The children grew up, their parents giving them the world and more, protecting them from harm, and making sure they had better than their parents ever did. Now, throwing another bright orange carrot in his basket, Ranboo couldn’t help but smile across the way at his husband, teetering up the ladder in a straw sun hat, gathering honey from their bee farm. He’d gifted the ladder a few years prior - “A little short help for my shortie”. Tubbo threatened a villain arc at the note, making everyone around the table laugh as Ranboo walked over to embrace him, his chin resting on Tubbo’s head gently as the shorter had crossed his arms with a huff. Ranboo’s heart warmed at the fond memory.

He felt happy.

FoolishG whispered to you: Ranboo he’s back.

You whisper to FoolishG: What do you mean?

You whisper to FoolishG: Who?

FoolishG whispered to you: He’s going after you first.

FoolishG whispered to you: Is Michael with you?

You whisper to FoolishG: No.

You whisper to FoolishG: You didn’t answer my question, Foolish.

FoolishG whispered to you: Michael’s in danger, you need to get to him now.

FoolishG whispered to you: Dream’s alive, Ranboo.

You whisper to FoolishG: If this is some kind of joke this isn’t funny.

You whisper to FoolishG: This isn’t funny

You whisper to FoolishG: You know how he messed with me, stop it

You whisper to FoolishG: Don’t joke about that, Foolish.

You whisper to FoolishG: Foolish answer me

You whisper to FoolishG: Foolish?

Ranboo dropped his messenger in fear as the reality of the situation began to set in, his breaths beginning to panic. No, no no no no… they killed him. They killed him, they got rid of him for good. He’s supposed to be dead, he’s supposed to be gone-!

“Ranboo?” Tubbo looked over at him with concern as he packed up the jars of honey from their bee farm. Ranboo’s silence did not help his unease. “Ranboo, what’s wrong?”

FoolishG whispered to you: Hurry, Ranboo. I don’t know how long he’ll last.

Tubbo was kneeling in front of him now, grounding him with his hands on his husband’s shoulders. “Breathe. Breathe, Ranboo. Deep breaths, you’ve got it…”

As Ranboo tried in vain to even his breaths, he held Tubbo’s hand in fear. “Dream’s back... He’s...he… he’s alive and he has Michael.”

“What?” Tubbo’s eyebrows furrowed. “But… but we burned the revive book. We killed him, I saw his body-!”

“Michael… fuck, he has Michael…” Ranboo cursed on his breath. “This is all my fault, I should’ve known-!”

“No. None of that. You can’t blame yourself for this.” Tubbo dismissed, getting up and holding his hand out toward the enderman. “We’ve killed him before, we’ll just kill him again, right? We’ll save Michael and put a stop to this for good.” As Tubbo helped Ranboo back to his feet, he moved under a tree to place the purple glowing black box that greeted the two like an old friend. An enderchest. They hadn’t needed to use it for so long. They hadn’t needed what was inside. Tubbo pulled out a familiar enchanted sword that used to plague Ranboo’s dreams. His sword. The goat hybrid took off his straw hat and with one last glance placed it inside the enderchest, his eyes focused and thinking. He felt the new weight of the sword in his hand, getting used to the weapon again. “It’ll work this time. It has to.”

“It will.” Ranboo echoed.

Will it?

Tubbo’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, looking somber, numb. When they finally killed Dream they thought it would be the last time, the last war to fight. All three of them strived and hoped for peace, for all of it to be over, to get their own happy endings. He moved to the side, pulling out his communicator from his pocket. “Grab your stuff. I’ve got to warn Tommy.”

As Ranboo grabbed his own enchanted sword and his old armor from the chest, he couldn’t help but wonder, a single thought that nagged him and wouldn’t seem to leave his mind, making his stomach sink to the floor in dread…

...What if they never killed him in the first place?

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Phil closed his eyes as he sat in his chair, feeling something wrong, off in the air, something he couldn’t quite place. The room around him is silent but Phil can feel the world yelling for him, screaming for him. It’s trying to tell him something. Phil’s been alive for a long time. He’s seen the earth burst with new life, and slaughtered bodies fall to the floor, smelling nothing but the cold press of death. He’s seen it, heard it, felt it so many times it was a familiar, somewhat comforting feeling for him. It was calming, it was constant, it was natural.

So why did it…?

Phil’s eyes opened slowly, looking out the window in thought as Technoblade walked in from the snowstorm outside, a chill running through the cabin. The piglin dropped his bag of loot on the floor and began to shoulder off his snow gear to hang by the fire to dry. As Techno walked past him, moving in front of the fire to undo his braids, damp from the snow.

“Techno, something’s happening.”

“Heh?” The piglin’s ears perked up from the break in the somewhat comfortable silence they usually shared. “What… what do you mean?”

“Something’s wrong. It feels… unnatural.” Phil said, closing his eyes briefly again to focus on the feeling. “Did you see anything off while you were out?”

“Not really, the snow’s coming down so hard you can barely see a thing out there.” The piglin shrugged, the concern on his friend’s face only making a pit form in his stomach he tried to ignore. “...what’s wrong?”

“Something’s moving… breathing… it shouldn’t be.”

“Zombies, maybe?” Techno suggested. “I did see a few while I was out.”

“Maybe.” Phil agreed. “Part of me feels like something’s off, something dangerous. Like when you… you were almost…” Phil sighed. “I guess I’m just worrying over nothing again.”

“I wouldn’t say nothing - you have good instincts, Phil.”

“Battle instincts. Instincts I don’t need anymore. And here I thought you’d have a harder time adjusting to all this.” Phil scoffed.

“A lot’s been changing. With everything that happened, I don’t blame you for being a little tense, Phil. I am too.” Technoblade admitted. “Just to be safe, we can double-check when the storm passes, that way we won’t get any interference with the communicators.”

“I’d like that.” Phil smiled, moving to sit next to his friend by the fireplace. “Thanks, Techno.”

Technoblade scoffed, his mouth breaking into a smile. “Hey, don’t mention it.” The piglin ran his hands through his hair, going through a few knots before grabbing a brush. Taking a deep breath to calm the knots in his stomach, Phil moved to set the kettle on the furnace, grabbing a match to light it.

Miles away from the icy tundra, Foolish walked through the Temple of the Undying, a small teenager in their arms. He was silent as he marched, tears going down his cheeks full of emotion the god held back. His arm gently cradled the child’s head close to his chest. His heart weighed heavy with guilt, words and memories echoing in his mind of failure, of how he failed his son.

Foolish could feel presences, he could feel others watching from the shadows and corners. Every single statue and totem memorial against the wall seemed to have their gazes fixed on him as if waiting for what the god would do next. For once, Foolish didn’t know what to do.

He hadn’t even told anyone the news yet. How could he? His son was dead and it was all his fault. All because he wasn’t careful. Dream was back, he was standing there next to his son and for once he couldn’t control his anger, his panic. He tried to strike him down, but…

He still remembered every detail, how Dream had just… smiled. He wasn’t afraid. He was staring down a god, and he wasn’t afraid. Somehow, he was always one step ahead.

Lightening still sparked and clung to Foolish Jr.’s body. Foolish couldn’t help but think about how much pain he must’ve been in, how much pain he must’ve put him through. He fell to his knees in the center of the temple, gently laying his son on the floor, the beacon lighting him in a bright glow. His hands shaking, Foolish brushed a bit of hair out of Junior’s eyes, bowing his head toward the ground.

“I’m sorry…” His soft whispers echoed through the temple. “I’m so so sorry, Ra forgive me for what I’ve done…” Tears dripped down to the floor. “My little totemling…” Foolish’s eyes snapped toward the walls as the totem statue’s eyes began to softly glow, bathing the two in green light. The totem god’s eyes still wet with tears as he looked into the green eyes, a silent question on his mind. Whispers filled his ears that he couldn’t quite decipher. Suddenly, he felt it.

A pinprick in the middle of his chest, expanding throughout his body, the pain pulsing like a heartbeat. His breath hitched as drowsiness overtook him, making him feel dizzy. An essence was being slowly pulled from his body, glowing like some kind of enchantment on a weapon. Sweat built on Foolish’s brow as he struggled to keep his breaths even. Then… a stinging slice across his middle left him in a silent scream. His hand slowly reached up toward his chest, his eyes widening when he found it covered in crimson. The pain was overwhelming - it felt as if his body was torn apart and stitched back together in a matter of seconds. He scrambled to grab a health potion, downing it all and wincing at the terrible aftertaste but thankfully finally getting some relief. His eyes focused on the essence as it hung up into the air above the two, and slowly was lowered, expanding around Foolish Junior’s body.

As the green light faded, Foolish heard faint chanting, looking around for where it was coming from, trying desperately to piece together what was happening. Before Foolish had time to figure out exactly what the chanting was saying, the body shooting upwards from the ground, gasping for breath quickly grabbed his attention.

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

Michael didn’t know how long it was. How many hours had passed since he’d been tied to the chair? He didn’t even know if it was night or day. He sat in the middle of his parent’s bedroom, feet and hands tied expertly - he was completely and utterly trapped. With every time he struggled and strained against the bonds they cut against his skin and irritated it enough to make them bleed, almost training the piglin to try to stay as still as possible, to avoid any pain.

Dream stalked around the bedroom like a thief, searching through the closet and drawers for something or other. He’d pick up a potion, a diamond, even an ingot or two, holding them up toward the light as if to inspect them before dropping them in his bag. His gaze fell upon a picture of the family from their beach vacation a few years ago - Ranboo fell asleep with a seagull perched on his stomach. Michael remembered how much he and his father had tried to hold back their laughter enough for a selfie, only for Ranboo to wake up and scare the seagull away halfway through taking the picture. They looked so happy together.

Dream seemed unfazed by the photo, almost studying it in a sense. The gaze seemed oddly calculated, making the teen feel uneasy.

“Michael you’re a good kid, you know.” Michael’s glare bore into Dream’s mask as sticky drips of crimson spilled over his hands. “You always want to do the right thing, want to protect everyone. You shouldn’t have to be the one to fight your parent’s battles, should you?”

Michael remained silent.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Michael. I really don’t. Despite what your parents might have told you, I’m not a monster. It brings me no satisfaction to bring you pain. After all, you’ve done nothing to me.”

“So?”

“So I’m giving you some free advice - take the easy way out, for both of us. All you need to do is tell me where that armor is hidden, and I’ll let you go.”

“Bullshit.” Michael spat. “I know that’s not what you want, my parents told me more than that you’re just some scary monster. You’re a power hungry lunatic.”

A smile spread across Dream’s face at Michael’s words. “A lunatic, huh?”

“You manipulated Uncle Wilbur, you tortured Uncle Tommy… you betrayed my father all because you want power! You want control over people, freeing me would have you lose the only shred of control you have left on this server, so why would you?”

“You’re a smart kid, you know that?” Dream said casually, rolling up his sleeves. “So smart…” He reached into his bag, grabbing a pair of shears that looked worn. There were initials on the leather cover that Michael couldn’t strain his eyes to see. Dream uncovered the shears, walking over toward the piglin and resting an arm on the teenager’s right side, trapping him.

Something churned in the piglin’s stomach. “What… what are you…?”

“Tell me, smart kid, do you know what it feels like to die? To feel nothing but neverending agony? To choke on your own blood as you beg for relief and warmth only to find yourself becoming colder and colder, not being able to move or even scream?”

Michael couldn’t help the fear that traveled up his spine. “I…I-”

“I wonder… would you like to find out?” The sharp end of the scissors was quickly set near the bottom of the piglin’s neck. It freaked Michael out - how calm Dream was about it all, how serious he sounded. Was he really going to kill him? The question sent his mind racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he felt like a trapped sheep in a wolf’s grasp. He wanted to run but he couldn’t.

“I...I just-”

“Do you know what canon lives are, Michael?” Dream asked smoothly, as if he was telling the teenager about the terrible weather. The words seemed familiar to the piglin but for some reason he was so stressed it was hard to remember anything specific. His parents never really talked about it much and usually tried to avoid the topic.

Michael thickly swallowed, acutely aware of the sharp blade against his skin. “No… no I don’t think-”

Of all the things he expected to happen in his situation, he certainly didn’t expect for the masked man to go into a small laughing fit over his answer. Michael struggled to find what exactly was funny, and a small pit of rage began to boil in his stomach, temporarily distracting the zombie piglin from the fear that the green blob seemed to pull out of him. So what if he didn’t know what those are?! Why does he care?! “Oh, I knew they couldn’t have told you everything…”

“What… what do you mean?”

“You see Michael, when someone dies they use up a canon life and respawn, until… well… they can’t anymore. Everyone has three, but a few have been used up over the years, at least when I was around.” Michael could see the beginnings of a smirk poke out from underneath Dream’s mask. “You’ve never respawned, have you?! All three lives, no deaths… oh, this could be fun…”

What… what the fuck was he suggesting?!

“Your choice - Tell me where the armor is now, or I’m going to kill you.”

The zombie piglin nervously looked around for any kind of out, something to stall. He couldn’t give up the location - Dad told him explicitly that he couldn’t reveal the location to anyone, no matter the circumstances.

Tubbo held Michael’s hands firmly in his own. “It’s evil, Michael. It used to belong to a very bad person, and he hurt a lot of people. We have to contain that evil here, for everyone’s sake. If this got into the wrong hands…” His father trailed off, not bothering to finish.

“I promise, Dad. I won’t let you down.”

Tubbo looked up at his son proudly, moving to cup his cheek with his hand fondly. “I know you won’t. You’re old enough and you’ve trained enough, you’ve earned my trust.”

He couldn’t let his father down, but…

“Five… four… three…” Dream huffed, getting impatient.

“You… you can’t just-!”

“Wrong answer.”

Michael’s memory was fuzzy after that - maybe it was because of the pain, or maybe it because he didn’t want to remember. He remembered… he remembered how his body trembled as Dream swiftly stabbed him in the chest with the shears, he remembered the tears going down his face as Dream tried to wedge the weapon deeper in the wound. And the pain… the pain was indescribable. Of course Michael had gotten hurt before - but arrows and zombie bites and broken bones could never compare to this, not by a long shot. Words left his lips so freely that he forgot exactly what he said, but when Dream twisted the scissors he whimpered.

He was mad at himself for crying and losing himself in front of his tormentor - he was giving him exactly what he wanted! Why did he just cry so easily?! Why was he being so… so weak?! He didn’t know exactly how or when the chair he was tied to flipped over, but he did remember shouting that seemed distant. He hit his head when he fell, adding to the throbbing dizziness in his skull. The pain hurt so much he wanted it to stop, please just let it stop...

He hadn’t even noticed the masked green blob left the room until a pair of dark purple eyes stared at him from the doorway. He felt himself tremble as the figure moved closer, and Michael squeezed his eyes shut, not willing to watch whatever that thing wanted to do to him next. After a tense moment of silence the piglin felt arms wrapped around him, pulling him close and his body relaxed into the touch, the familiar hum radiating throughout the stranger’s chest that always helped calm him. A hand reached up to scratch at his ears fondly, and Michael worked up the courage to open his eyes.

Two purple glowing eyes looked down at him, smiling and purring. The hair, the clothes… “Dad…?” Michael weakly croaked. The purple-eyed Ranboo smiled at him as he fondly patted his head. A loud noise erupted from his mouth, making Michael tense up in fear.

“⏚⏃⏚⊬.”

Upon seeing Michael’s distress, purple-eyed Ranboo quickly went back to sending calming purrs, holding his son’s head in his hands. Michael was so confused - what was that noise? More importantly, was his Dad okay? Ranboo’s hands drifted above the zombie piglin’s chest wound, a slight noise of discomfort coming from the back of his throat. He grit his teeth through the pain as he struggled to speak. “Dad, look, you… you gotta listen - Dream’s here, he’s gonna be back any second…”

The Ranboo-not-Ranboo’s head whipped toward the doorway at a loud crash, his grip increasing on the teenager slightly. Had his Dad even heard him? More strange noise erupted from his mouth, only increasing Michael’s concern. What was going on?

“⎅⏃⋏☌⟒⍀.”

Before Michael could ask what exactly that meant, with a ‘vwoop’ the purple-eyed Ranboo disappeared. Though Michael missed the warm comfort for his pulsing pain, part of him was glad. That means his Dad must’ve heard him, he was gonna warn the others and Dream wouldn’t hurt him, that was all that mattered. The other part felt like he was six years old again trapped in his own personal nightmare, begging for his father to come back and save him and hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright. Static began to fill his ears as a slow deep sleepiness began to take over. Tears pricked at the edges of Michael’s eyes, the pulsing, burning pain becoming too much.

Just let me rest...

The door slammed open. A scream echoed.

“MICHAEL!”

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Foolish had never seen his son so scared in his entire life. He shot up, grasping for some kind of lifeline, and Foolish didn’t hesitate to pull him close. “Dad…”

“Shh, it’s okay little totemling. Dad’s right here.” His heart felt full as he hugged his son tightly, afraid that if he let go it would all just be a dream. His son, his son was alive and breathing, his son was right here in his arms, he was okay, it was all okay-! Wet tears slipped down his face before he had the time to notice them. The totem god’s gaze shifted up towards the totem statue. The statue glared down at him, expressionless, as if nothing else needed to be said.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

“There was… there were shadows everywhere,” Junior sobbed. “It was cold and so, so scary and I didn’t know where you were, and-!”

“I’m right here, Foolish. I’m right here. It…” Foolish hesitated. How could he explain this to him? How could he tell his son that he failed him? How could he face his son and tell him the truth, that his own father had killed him? Maybe some things were better left unsaid, some truths untold. Foolish couldn’t tell you whether he avoided it to spare his son’s emotions or his own, simply that he found that he just couldn’t. “It was all just a bad dream, don’t worry. I was just waiting for you to respawn.”

Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he’d tell him the truth later, but he couldn’t face it right now. He just couldn’t. Either way, what did it matter? He got a second chance, and this time he wasn’t going to mess up. Not again.

“Wait, where’s Dream?”

Foolish couldn’t help but tense hearing those words. “...What?”

“Where’s Dream? He just came back, I can’t leave him. He’s probably somewhere scared and alone, he probably thinks I died! I’m his only friend, I gotta-!” Junior shifted, moving to get out of his father’s grip.

“Foolish. Foolish, no.” The totem god said firmly. “Dream’s dangerous. He’s done horrible things, he’s hurt so many people back when he was alive, and I won’t have you be next.” Not again.

“But… but it’s been so long, maybe he’s changed! Maybe…”

“Foolish.”

“When Wilbur came back he changed, he became a good guy again! Dream’s been dead longer than him, he’s my friend he can’t… he’s not…”

“Dream used you against me when you stepped in front to protect him. Maybe his ghost was different, but… but he’s not a ghost anymore.”

Junior pulled away from his father’s embrace. “No, no that’s not true! You were the first one to attack him, he was just standing there, Dad! He just came back, he hadn’t done anything wrong, you assumed he did. You attacked for no reason.”

“Foolish you don’t understand, the things Dream’s done-”

“He’s been dead for 12 years, Dad! 12 years, and you don’t think he’s changed?! I thought you always believed in second chances, that everyone deserves a chance to do the right thing.” Junior stated. “You didn’t even give him a chance.”

“He’s killed countless people in cold blood-”

“Haven’t you?!”

Foolish’s face fell as he looked over his hands. Static filled his ears as his mind remembered every single detail, and for a moment he swore he could feel the warm, thick blood coating his hands. No, no no no… not now… He quickly clenched his hands tightly into fists, closing his eyes, trying to block it out before it flooded back, before…

He felt arms around his neck, a warm embrace. “It’s okay, it’s okay… I’m so sorry, I’m sorry-!”

As the feeling slowly faded, he opened his eyes, finding his son’s face red and puffy from crying. He mustered a small smile, both their anger long forgotten. “Hey, hey it’s okay… I told you I’m not going anywhere, right?”

“You were… you were turning into the… I’m so sorry…” Junior’s voice was soft and quiet.

“You don’t need to be, it’s not your fault…” Foolish reassured. “You’re right. You’re right, I’ve… I’ve done horrible things too. I just don’t want him to hurt you. I want to protect you, you know that right?”

“I know.”

Junior yawned, and Foolish smiled warmly.

“Come, my little totemling. You look tired.” Foolish said, scooping up the young teenager in his arms and walking toward his son’s room. Junior tiredly smiled.

“I love you, Dad.”

Foolish leaned down and gave his son a small forehead kiss. “I love you too, Foolish. No matter what.”

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

“Shit, shit shit shit shit…” Tubbo mumbled, his hands shaking as he rushed over to his son, noticing the large gash in his chest. He fumbled for his bag, desperately trying to find a potion of harming.

Regen, healing, strength, swiftness…

“Fuck.” Tubbo cursed under his breath, throwing aside his satchel and rushing over toward the drawers, pulling them open, throwing things to the ground in reckless abandon. What happened to the potions?! They always had extra, then extra for the extra! He and Ranboo were always prepared, they knew how hard harming potions were to make, so where was it?!

A loud crash ripped through the halls as Enderwalk Ranboo crashed through the wooden wall of the room, wooden splinters flying everywhere. Enderwalk huffed as he staggered trying to get to his feet, letting out a loud hiss as Dream walked through the new hole in the wall, his sword out, red staining his green hoodie. He looked over the scene, catching his breath.

“Oh, you guys wanted to pull one over on me, huh?! Throw the enderman freak on me, grab Michael and leave?”

Tubbo moved to be closer to Michael, pulling out his own sword protectively as Enderwalk moved in front of both, ignoring his own slashes and blood dripping to the floor. Enderwalk Ranboo screeched, almost daring the masked man to come toward his family. Tubbo’s gaze was focused on Dream, looking him over. “Yeah, something like that. Great plan, isn’t it?”

“Actually,” Dream let out a small cough, smirking. “Actually it’s pretty stupid.”

“I’d disagree, since we have Michael, and from the looks of it, you don’t have your precious armor.”

“Oh Tubbo, all these years and you’ve learned nothing… I always have other plans.”

Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “What do you-?”

“Looking for this?” Dream smiled, holding up a glimmering potion of harming. Enderwalk was ready to pounce, looking over at Tubbo who stood up, sword raised. “Nuh-uh-uh. Try to take it from me and I’ll smash it on the floor. All of them.” Dream moved to open the flap of his bag slightly to reveal more potions of harming. Tubbo’s face fell - all the extras, everything…

Enderwalk looked back at Tubbo, head tilted in confusion as Tubbo signaled for him to stand down. Tubbo took a deep breath - he hated this. He hated that once again, he hadn’t thought everything through, he hated that once again he failed, and most of all he hated that fact that as of this moment, his son’s life was in that green psycho's hands. Enderwalk turned to hold Michael close once again, nuzzling him and getting worried and sad when he didn’t respond. “What do you want for it?”

“You know what I want.” Dream said coldly. “I’d hurry if I were you, or it’ll be Michael’s first cannon life.”

Tubbo promised himself he wouldn’t ever subject his son to that kind of pain, that he’d protect him no matter what. He let out a defeated sigh. “Second portrait on the left in the entryway. It’s behind the painting.” Tubbo held out his hand. “Now give me the potion.”

“Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo… never change. Once an idiot, always an idiot, isn’t it?” Dream tossed the potion bottle over, which Tubbo quickly caught as the masked man turned and walked out of the room. Tubbo quickly rushed over toward his son, putting the potion bottle to his lips. They didn’t have much time.

Of course, it wouldn’t heal much, but it certainly was better than nothing. He looked over toward Enderwalk, gears turning in his head trying to make sure he spoke clearly enough to be understood. “⟒⋏⎅⟒⍀, ☌⟒⏁ ⏚⏃⋏⎅⏃☌⟒⌇.”

Enderwalk nodded, rushing over toward the drawers, grabbing some bandages and handing them over to Tubbo, who set down the empty potion bottle. Enderwalk looked down at Michael as Tubbo worked, focused. “⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⏃⌇⌰⟒⟒⌿. ⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⍜☍⏃⊬?”

“⌿⏃⟟⋏ ⊑⎍⍀⏁ ⏁⍜⍜ ⋔⎍☊⊑. ⌿⍜⏁⟟⍜⋏ ⊑⟒⌰⌿⟒⎅.”

Enderwalk reached to scratch and pat behind Michael’s ears. Tubbo tightened the bandages as Michael stirred. “...Dad…?”

“Michael, thank gods you’re alright!” Tubbo moved to hug his son, Enderwalk joining in, purring happily at the reunion.

“What… what happened? Where’s Dream?”

No time. “Busy. Michael, can you move..?”

Michael shifted to sit, feeling sore, tired. Small pulses of pain still wracked his body that he ignored. He moved his leg slightly, testing the waters. “I… I think so…?”

“Good. Okay.” Tubbo got up, holding out his hand and helping his son stand on shaky hooves. “I need you to run. Run toward Uncle Tommy’s.”

“Wait, what? N-no, I’m not leaving you!”

“This isn’t a choice, Michael. You have to go. Now. Before he comes back.”

“But-”

Tubbo’s hands gently squeezed his son’s. “No matter what you hear or what happens, don’t stop. Don’t stop until you’re at Uncle Tommy’s and you’re safe, okay?”

“But what about you and Dad? What about Dream?”

“Don’t worry, we’ve held our own this long. We’ll meet you at Uncle Tommy’s soon, but you have to get there and get safe, okay? Don’t look back, just get there. You can do that for me, right?” Tubbo’s forehead gently bonked Michael’s. “Remember the time we got caught in the forest just as the sun was coming down?”

“Yeah. I was so scared I couldn’t move. It was my first time out at night.”

“Remember, I took your hand like this…” Tubbo slowly rubbed circles into the back of Michael’s palm. “And told you that you didn’t have to be scared, that I was gonna be right there with you. All the scary monsters, you didn’t need to be afraid because as long as you kept running, nothing could get you.”

“Dad, I don’t know if I-”

“Yes you can. I know you can, Michael. Run as fast as your hooves can carry you, I know you can do it. I know you can be brave.” Tubbo encouraged. “Get there, your father and I will be right behind you. I promise.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Michael.”

“⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⍜☍⏃⊬! ⍙⊑⊬ ⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⌇⏃⎅?”

Enderwalk nuzzled with Michael as a few tears spilled down the piglin’s cheeks, and he laughed, smiling. “I love you too, Dad!”

Quickly, giving his parents one last look, Michael dashed into the hallway, heading toward the balcony and jumping down into the courtyard, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he ran through the trees toward the icy tundra. Tubbo wiped away his tears as he looked over toward his purple-eyed husband.

“⏚⏃⏚⊬...?”

Tubbo cupped Enderwalk’s cheek as the enderman snuggled into the embrace. “⋔⟟☊⊑⏃⟒⌰ ⋏⍜⏁ ⌇⏃⎎⟒ ⊑⟒⍀⟒. ☌⍜⟟⋏☌ ⏁⍜ ⌇⏃⎎⟒ ⌿⌰⏃☊⟒.”

Enderwalk looked into Tubbo’s eyes and nodded in understanding. He moved to hold Tubbo’s face in his hands as Tubbo stilled, confused for a moment before Enderwalk pulled him down to the floor in a tight hug. Surprised at first, Tubbo returned the gesture. A loud crash erupted from below the two, followed by loud angry yells that sent shivers up Enderwalk’s spine and made him tense up.

“WHERE IS IT?!”

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

“The flowers are really pretty today.” Ghostie smiled as he kneeled down in the daisy flower field, callused and rough hands moving to gently caress a flower.

“Yeah, spring’s coming.” Junior smiled, sitting down next to his friend.

“Spring…?”

“You… wait a minute, you’ve never seen spring before?!”

The ghost considered his friend's words for a moment, searching his own memory. “No, I… I don’t think I remember spring.” He smiled excitedly, a childlike curiosity in his eyes. “What’s it like?”

Junior settled down next to his friend, moving to pluck a flower. “Well, it’s warm, like… like hot chocolate, and flowers come back… it’s like the entire world comes alive again.” As Junior spoke, Ghostie pushed his green hood back and looked up towards the bright blue sky, noticing a small butterfly float past. His heart felt light, it was perfectly warm and bright, and something about everything around him made a smile appear on his face. “It’s perfect.”

“Oh, by the way, I’ve got something for you.” Foolish Junior smiled, reaching into his bag and pulling out a small piece of different colors of braided thread - a lime green and two different shades of blue with a small white shell at the bottom. He held it out to Ghostie. “Now we’re officially best friends!”

“What is it…?” Ghostie asked, staring down at the foreign object laid in his palm.

“It’s a friendship bracelet!” Junior beamed, pulling out a similar yellow with the same two shades of blue. When his ghost friend didn’t respond or understand when he pointed it out, just staring up at him confused, he moved to explain. “You wear it on your wrist to show that we’re friends. See? It matches mine.” The twelve year old held up his own bracelet to show his ghost friend.

“Were… were we not friends before…?”

“Of course we were, Ghostie!” Foolish Junior exclaimed. “You’re my best ghost friend in the world, after all.” He reassured his friend. “I just wanted to make it for you because I thought you’d like it. Tubbo was telling me this story the other day about these special compasses, and… and I wanted to make sure that even if we’re not always together, we’ll still have a part of each other, you know?”

“It’s pretty. Like the flowers.” Ghostie smiled. “I love it.”

“Here, let me show you how to put it on…”

Foolish Junior heard talking just beyond his room as he packed, hearing his Uncle Eret downstairs. For a second, his mind wandered to what they could possibly be talking about. After all, it was just a simple respawn. He wasn’t that hurt, Ghostie got brought back… everything was perfect! Everything was supposed to be absolutely perfect.

So why wasn’t it? The whispers and hushed tones, the way his father looked at him, clung to him in a vice grip… it wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. He knew his father wasn’t right about Ghostie, or… or was he Dream now…? Dream. It didn’t sound right, it didn’t fit him as well as ‘Ghostie’ did. The name felt so foreign on his tongue. But, if that’s what his friend wanted…

The teenager stilled as his gaze settled on the abandoned green and blue friendship bracelet left on his nightstand. He remembered how Ghostie held it with the utmost care when he handed it to him to take - “Make sure to give it back once the ritual’s all done. I don’t wanna get it dirty.” Junior remembered so clearly how Ghostie looked at him when he wasn’t transparent anymore.he called out for him with a smile, and his best friend simply turned around without saying a single word, looking around the forest.

After a moment of hesitation, he slid on Ghostie’s bracelet next to his own. He’ll give it back, he’ll reunite with Ghostie and introduce him to everyone and they’d understand. Then, they’d finally get to go swimming together like they always wanted to. They’d be together again.

All he had to do was find him.

You whisper to Dream: Meet me by the flower field tonight once the sun goes down. Be safe. We’ve gotta talk.

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

As his husband held his head in agony, Tubbo was quick to steady him, resting his head against his shoulder. He gently held him, adapting as he shifted every now and then. Worried thoughts filled Tubbo's head as he couldn’t help but think of the worst - it had after all been years since Ranboo had forced himself to go into that state. He was the one who pushed him, all for his plan, his 'big' plan. Eventually, Tubbo found the voice to speak. “You there, Boo?”

“I... forgot how dizzying it is…” Ranboo let out a pained chuckle against his husband’s shoulder. “How’d I do?”

“Amazing,” Tubbo smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. A few tears slid down his cheeks as he softly laughed. “Absolutely amazing.”

“Michael okay?”

“Dream roughed him up a little badly,” Tubbo sniffed, moving his hand up to wipe away his tears. “I patched him up, gave him a potion and sent him on his way toward Tommy’s.”

“That’s good.” Ranboo moved to sit up fully, holding Tubbo’s hand in his to comfort him. His smile never left his face. “So, what’s the plan now?”

“Well, Dream always told us what would happen if we crossed him.” Tubbo looked up at Ranboo. “Do you wanna come with me and find out?”

The enderman smirked playfully. “Aw, don’t tell me you tricked the poor thing…?”

“I do learn from the best.” Tubbo smiled. The door slammed open once more to reveal a very angry and pissed off Dream. Slowly, he walked over toward the couple, a golden axe drawn.

“Tubbo.” He growled.

"Dream." Tubbo smiled. "Did you find the armor?" A pair of netherite boots fell to the floor with a 'clang', the noise like thunder in the silent tense room.

“Where’s the rest of it?!”

“What, don't you like the boots?”

Dream pounced, tackling Tubbo to the ground and slowly pushing the axe blade up toward Tubbo’s neck. “Start talking you little shit.”

“Did you honestly think we’d hide all your precious armor and weapons in one spot?! Do you think after twelve years we’d still be that stupid?!” With Tubbo’s words, Dream looked like he was slapped, anger only building and rising the more he thought it over, the more he realized his mistake.

A mistake. He didn't make mistakes.

“We’ve buried them and hid the locations all around the SMP, just in case someone like you ever showed up again and tried to take us down.” Tubbo explained. “Good luck on finding the others, going through everyone on the SMP, digging through all that dirt… not to mention that as we speak Michael’s running to warn the others about you.” Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “You’re trapped.”

He didn't make mistakes. He didn't get trapped. He was always smarter, always faster, always in control. Why wasn't he in control?!

“Checkmate, Dream.” Tubbo spat.

The words sparked a flame within Dream’s stomach, igniting his anger and destructive spirit. Choked breathing filled the room as Dream wrapped his hands around Tubbo’s throat and squeezed. How dare he… HOW DARE HE TRICK HIM?! He saw red as he slammed Tubbo’s head back down against the wooden floor, staining it crimson. Ranboo yelled and screamed in the background until Tubbo was still as a stone, unconscious.

“Get away from him!” Ranboo yelled, grabbing his sword and moving to strike. A quick slash of Dream’s yellow axe sent him to the floor as well. Struggling to keep awake, Ranboo crawled, each movement feeling like fire as it combined with his older injuries, his blood dripping to the floor. Dream watched Ranboo a moment, relishing in his struggle, the blood bringing him a deep satisfaction. Slowly, ever so slowly, he begins to walk over toward the enderman, his golden axe dripping with blood.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you guys to be so sharp after all these years… but you’re still making the same mistakes.” Dream said with an oddly calm and cold tone. “You three always underestimate me. You underestimated me then, and you’re still doing it now to make yourselves feel better, to feel like you’ve won. But you haven’t.” Dream kneeled down in front of the enderman, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his face to look at his. “I’m going to win eventually. After all, I waited a hundred and forty-four years to get out of that hell hole you three put me in. If you think a small slip up is all it takes to stop me and the plans I have…" The last thing that rang in Ranboo's head before he passed out was Dream's crazed laughter.

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

General Writing Taglist (Tell me if you'd like to be added or removed):

@bonesposts

(Also, I believe @yellowhearthero wanted some protective enderboo, so here you go! :D)

[forestlingincorporated]

My thoughts on the Snyder Cut

Overall, Snyder Cut is the more competently made Justice League movie. I watched the theatrical release with my girlfriend - who has never seen MoS or BvS or JL before - before watching the Snyder Cut with her a few days later, so it’s still fairly fresh in my mind. 

The Snyder cut is better organized and (despite being 4 hours long) better paced. I really gave ZERO shits about the mother boxes the way they were presented in the theatrical release, but I was engaged with the plot from the start in the Snyder Cut. Scenes were reorganized in a way that were more logical. Fight sequences were paced MUCH better, and kept me interested in what was happening on the screen - my girlfriend and I SKIPPED the last fight sequence in the theatrical release when we watched it because we were BORED; we didn’t get that bored at any point during the Snyder Cut. 

Most of the scenes I liked from the theatrical release are ripped wholesale from this version of the movie, with maybe an exception or two. 

EVERYTHING with Cyborg is better in this movie. Like. EVERYTHING. 

The lighting? Is SO MUCH better. The theatrical cut is SO UGLY compared to this movie. My girlfriend couldn’t look at the bat suit in the theatrical release for a second without complaining it looked terrible, and that was a nonissue in the snyder cut, the bat suit looked amazing. Diana’s low necklines were still there, but no longer shot in a way that was distracting. And dear god, the Steppenwolf redesign looks so much better, god. 

Speaking of Steppenwolf, our villain now has a character motivation! He’s in some way sympathetic and understandable! Wow! Now I fucking understand why our villain is doing what they’re doing, and it plays into the theme! 

And that’s where the praise has to stop, because now I gotta get into the complaints. Under the cut, so now one has to listen to my bitching if they don’t want to. (Also, I get into like, spoilers, so be warned) 

Okay, this movie has a theme, and the theme is family, and it is SO POORLY EXECUTED. Snyder doesn’t do “theme” particularly well - the family angle is kind of an after thought. It’s there, for sure, Steppenwolf wants to go home and be part of his family again, and family is a big part of Cyborg’s arc, and Barry’s stuff with his dad is pretty strong, but this movie isn’t Cyborg and the Flash vs. Steppenwolf - it’s THE JUSTICE LEAGUE vs. Steppenwolf. Each character has a connection to their family that is TOUCHED on, but it’s not given the weight it needs. Diana receives a message from her mother, but Diana doesn’t go visit her at any point or send a message back or anything. Aquaman talks about his mother and father kind of expositionally, designed to set up for the Aquaman movie which now contradicts the already existing Aquaman movie, but we never see his family nor get a strong sense of connection. Clark’s reunion with his mother is extremely brief and unimpactful. And Bruce, who has so much opportunity to delve deep into family connections, especially as the only member of the League who’s ever been a father, confirmed by the nightmare sequence, is given nothing to work with on the family front. 

That’s another thing, Snyder does plot driven movies, he doesn’t do CHARACTER very well. He’d rather exposition for 20 minutes than delve into the emotions of his characters. We’re given an idea that maybe Diana’s worried about her mom, and Bruce is probably still grieving his dead child, but none of that is dealt with. Like, Superman is a McGuffin, he has some emotional weight when he goes to get the black and white suit and you get the overlapping dialog of Jor-El and Jonathan, but he gets over being DEAD so fast, and his reunions with his family are like... limp noodles. I think the worst offender is the death of Cyborg’s father, which I found extremely clunky, and Victor has feelings about it for, like, a scene, kind of, and it just gets pushed aside. His own teammates are barely empathetic that he just lost a parent. I’ve already heard people praise this scene as “more interesting and emotional”, but I found it EXTREAMLY clunky and awkwardly handled. 

Speaking of the exposition, it goes SO LONG. Like, SO LONG. We don’t need this much info dumping, it drags the movie. Cut Diana’s explanation of the mother boxes down to, like, three minutes, five max. Maybe do it like the Story of Ares from the Wonder Woman movie. Keep the first scene of Steppenwolf and Desaad establishing Steppenwolf’s character motivation and then like.... cut.... everything.... else. Between Steppenwolf and Desaad. It mostly exists to set up the fuckin’ Anti-Life equation sequel bait, which we don’t need explained in detail in THIS movie; just have Darkseid mention it at the end as a reason to return to Earth at the end like they already do and cut out all the stuff setting it up, let it be a mystery. And then Cyborg’s info dump on his powers wasn’t necessary, though I liked the way it led into a warm fuzzy moment of him helping that family, and he kinda smiles like, yeah, he likes helping people, he’s on his way to accepting himself and stuff. But then the extra info dump about how his dad’s lab came into possession of the cube like “WELL, IN WORLD WAR 2 - “ like aaaaah, no one cares, cut it. 

Uh... I wish I saw less of Darkseid. I feel like the movie ruined its own suspense by showing off Darkseid’s full design within the first hour. I would have prefered a, you know, more Fire Lord Ozai approach. Don’t show him until the end - or AT ALL, if they can manage it, leave that for a future movie, given this was made with the expectations of more movies. Darkseid’s design was also really disappointing, like Steppenwolf looked so GOOD, he was big and menacing with the armor on, but next to him Darkseid looked... small. I wanted him to be bigger, broader, more menacing. 

Uh... Martian Manhunter. Cool reveal, very shocking, I was hyped, uh, but did not make a load of sense. Very weird moment. And then when you see him again, and Bruce is like “this may as well happen” lol, omg, how checked out is Bruce? 

Lois Lane remains... a limp wet paper bag, and I would have preferred her replaced wholesale with Martha. Love interests being the Thing To Calm The Rampaging Hulk Kryptonian only works if, like, the audience is on board. And I never thought Snyder’s Clark/Lois romance was very strong, because of Snyder’s whole plot-over-character thing, and also I thought this depiction of Lois kinda sucked... But with Martha, you can at least fall back on the cultural concept of a boy’s love for his mother to stand in for weaker character set up, and it would play into that theme of family a lot better. 

I don’t know... how to unpack why... the nightmare future injustice dream sequence.... made me physically angry. But man did I not like that. I feel like I manifested a confirmed Robin death... in the worst way possible. Because boy. I HATED THAT.

Oh! Uh, and I didn’t like Barry’s new introduction. I thought it was weaker than seeing him meet with his dad in jail, and it was kind of... off mood. It was really SILLY, and nothing else in the movie was really that tonally silly. Barry was overall treated with more respect in this movie, but it still felt like the movie was somewhat disinterested in Flash’s whole... brand. Barry stuck out a bit as the one character who was overall not really particularly angsty. I will say, I miss the scene from Whedon’s theatrical release of Barry overcoming his fear by taking Bruce’s advice to just save “one” person; that was a good scene and played well into Barry’s youth and inexperience and into Bruce’s history as a mentor and a father. That said, FUCK did Whedon nerf the shit out of Barry’s powers. This boy can TIME TRAVEL. 

[trashystar420]

Chapter 5

Maribat reverse age babysitter AU

‘Trix I’m coming over!’

‘Mari please I got this!’

‘Trixx you have ten minutes before I bust your sorry butt out’

‘Aye aye captain ;p’

‘How can you even send emojis!?’

‘Magic!”

“Ugh!” The Bluenette collapses on the sofa. All she can do is wait for the remaining kwami, hoping, praying to whatever god or force there is out there for Trixx to be alright.

The remaining three all looked at each other, before putting reassuring pats to their guardian.

“It will be fine Marinette, Trixx is the Kwami of illusions, (s)he’ll find their way out of it.” Tikki reassures. The Bluenette released a tired sigh and a tired smile.

“It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

“Perhaps I should go to where Trixx is?” Wayzz offers. Marinette thinks about it, but ultimately shakes her head.

“Bad idea. You could also get caught.” The guardian and her three little Kwamis wait for their friend.

...

...

...

“Grrr stop moving you big-eyed bug!” The stalker-er-Damien demanded. Trixx gracefully dodged every pathetic attempt at capturing the fox-god.

“Looks like you’ll have to do better than that muscle freak!” The kwami sassed back. Somehow during the chaos, Damien found a catching net and attempted to trap the sentient bug creature. Finally cornering the little twerp, he swings it. Only for the net to completely phase through Trixx.

“WHat THe HELL are YoU!?” He screeches.

“Your worst nightmare” the adorable fox-god spits back with venom. The ex-assassin takes a step back,preparing for an attack. Trixx takes in a huge gulp of air, and blows, hard.

Orange smoke appears and covers the entire room. Covering his mouth out of habit, Damien gets a gas mask from the desk. After putting it on he scans the room to find the Kwami gone.

“What was that?” He wonders out loud.

Flashback

“Just what are you hiding Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” He wondered out loud.

Trixx was just supposed to do a perimeter check. What they ended up finding was some secret lair.

“Ooo secret lair.” Trixx sang out loud.

“Who goes there?!?” Damien jumps out of his chair, already in a fighting position.

“Whoops.” Damien squints his eyes, finding the source of the noise. He doesn’t even bat an eye. Having lived a life as an assassin, along with becoming a vigilante by night, one tends to become immune to the unknown.

“State your purpose.” He growled. Normally Trixx would find this hilarious, if it were not for the fact that the guardian was in the same area as this maniac.

“Are you a villain or something?” The fox kwami asked innocently. Damien remained unfazed, which Trixx took the silence as a yes.

And then the little god gasped, as though scandalized. Damien still remained from his position. His face neutral. Calculating on his next action.

And then he moved, he came in close too, but the Kwami just moved to the side as the eldest Wayne jumped in the air to catch the strange entity.

“Ha missed me!!!”

...PRESENT TIME...

“Trixx where have you been?!?” The paranoid guardian demanded.

“Hey shhh keep your voice down Mari-Bear. I just managed to barely escape.” That shut the Bluenette up.

“Fine but once we get home you have so much explaining to do you.” Marinette said while giving Trixx a chastising finger as though she were a scolding mother lecturing her kids.

“Ugh yes Mari.” Trixx gave in. Just as Marinette began to gather her things, the sound of footsteps gradually getting louder comes in the same direction as the troublemaking kwami came from.

And came the hulking brute himself, Damien Wayne. Looking pissed, disheveled, and ready to kill. Marinette had an idea as to what went down.

Piercing green eyes meet nervous blue ones. His frown lessens slightly, but still there.

“Have you seen it.” He asked quietly. Poor Marinette visibly gulped. Wanting to play dumb she answered with a “seen what?” With as much faux innocence as the terrible liar could summon.

Taking a deep breathe to sooth his rage, the Wayne Heir fixes his shirt and sweeps back his hair.

“A giant bug-like creature with the most weirdly animated eyes.” ‘Oh Trixx is soo gonna get it now’ Marinette thought bitterly.

“I-I’m sorry sir, but I have not seen any weird looking bug-like fox creatures.” She answers confidently. For a moment Damien looked like he bought that lie, and then he had an epiphany.

“I never said it resembles a fox.” Mari jumped.’oh for Kwami’s sake Marinette you had one job!!!’

“O-oh I could’ve sworn I thought you said fox instead of big, so I just chose to say both.” ‘Yes good one Marinette.’.

“No I KNOW what I said and I never mentioned anything about this creature looking anything like a fox. Which means.”

“W-which means...?” Marinette daringly asked. Damien sat on the same couch as her. She scoots away and he inches closer. ‘Mon Dieu I’m so dead!!!’

“You know something, don’t you?” He whispered in her ear in a deep tone. Normally the young woman would’ve blushed at how close the man was, but some sort of courage surged within the young designer.

Giving a gentle, but firm push with both her hands, she shoved him off her and got up.

“Please give me some personal space, sir. I am telling you that whatever hallucination you saw, I did not see.” She confidently walks to the door, turns around to give a glance as the Wayne she left at the couch.

“By the way your breathe stinks, so the next time you do that with someone, use a mint.” And she closes the door, effectively cutting off Damien from saying anything else. He releases a frustrated sigh, and punches a nearby pillow.

“This isn’t over Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” He vowed, and stormed off to the batcave to collect any footage that might have filmed the whole ordeal.

..

..

..

Marinette enters her home. Locks the door and throws the key on a nearby table. She gently placed each miraculous in their respective slots on the spotted, egg-shaped miracule box. And then she venomously flares at Trixx, who just tries to make themselves look smaller than they already are.

“You have some explaining to do.” As she grabs the little twerp by the ear, preventing the kwami from flying away.

“Ow ow this is kwami abuse!!! Help!!” But the other kwamis each either felt sympathetic, apathetic, or amused.(Wayzz).

Sorry guys it’s been a while, also chapter was short. I was trying to figure out what direction I wanted this story to go. And this chapter was a bit harder for me to write. Anyways enjoy!!!!

[canadian-riddler]

Hi Indy! I know Arkhamverse Riddler is definitely your specialty. Do you happen to have a rough ranking of Riddlers that you like from most to least? And which do you think is the most definitive version of the character?

I THINK that’s what my blog description says, anyway

Yes, at all times I have a rough ranking floating around in the back of my mind.  It is going to be very long so I will answer the last question first.

For most definitive version of Riddler I’m going to have to go with BTAS.  No recurring villain really had a distinct personality from their original (1940s) version, and while I am not knocking Frank Gorshin the 1966 Riddler absolutely was a bit Joker-y.  Most importantly (if I am not mistaken, which I could be), BTAS gave Riddler what became his most important trait: his intelligence.  Before that he was mostly an average weirdo who wore a green suit (sometimes) and liked riddles and sometimes built puzzle traps.  After BTAS, though, the Riddler’s intelligence became the driving force of his character.  Batman ‘66 saved Riddler from obscurity, but BTAS made him both relevant and future-proof.  Will we ever see a Riddler of average intelligence who doesn’t specialise in computer programming/engineering ever again?  I doubt it, and that’s because of BTAS. 

Onto the list.  It does not include EVERY Riddler ever because I have not read every Riddler story ever, but it should cover most of them (or at least the ones you’ve probably heard of).

1. Anything Paul Dini wrote.  This actually covers a few different Riddlers, which would be the first two Arkhamverse games, the most notable PI Riddler stuff, and of course the Riddler from BTAS.  Paul Dini can write the Riddler as both being a bad person and sympathetic at the same time, which is actually harder to pull off than it sounds.  AND he does it without using backstory as a crutch, which really is hard.

2.  Jeph Loeb/Jim Lee’s Riddler from Hush.  He only actually appears for two issues, but it’s one of the best Riddler stories merely because it allows him to do all the things Riddler SHOULD be able to do, but can’t because then there would be no Batman comics because he would have ended them.  619C is also, in my opinion, the best Riddler cover of all time.

3. Jim Carrey’s Riddler from Batman Forever.  Why would I put him this high on the list, you ask?  Because some writers forget that the Riddler is half just in it to have a good time and he doesn’t really care about how other people perceive him.  This man is living his best life and he’s doing it in glittery spandex and a light-up jacket.  Is he over the top?  At the time, no, not really.  At the time Riddler kinda just acted like that.  And he should be able to do so, in my opinion. 

4. Current Riddler (James Tynion IV).  While this Riddler has some issues with consistency (though this probably has to do with being shuffled from a main comic story into a Catwoman story), he returns to being almost self-cripplingly paranoid and absolutely losing it when he’s bested, which I think are important traits for Riddler to have.  I’m also actually really amused that they gave him the Batman Forever hair.

5. Batman ‘66.  While it did likely rescue Riddler from pending obscurity - he actually never appeared in a Batman comic before 1965, and before that was featured in only two issues of Detective Comics - and he definitely checks the ‘charming’ and ‘having fun’ boxes, there isn’t a whole lot differentiating him from the Joker he’s playing alongside.  If you watch the Batman ‘66 movie they’re almost the exact same character, just one likes jokes and the other likes riddles. 

6. Hush Returns and its aftermath.  This stuff is weird and doesn’t make a whole lot of sense because it mostly involves Riddler running away from Hush and retcons certain things from Hush, most importantly the part where Riddler got everyone to work together because he gave them what they wanted.  Hush Returns (which also contradicts itself during the story) for some reason has everyone angry at Riddler for tricking them and it ends with him getting the shit beat out of him and puts him into a coma for a year, which leads into him getting total amnesia and becoming a PI.  That’s the reason it’s so high on the list.  The story is weird and makes no sense at all for any of the other characters in it either but it gave us a reason for PI Riddler and that makes it matter.  Sort of.

7. Brave and the Bold/The Batman Riddler.  I’m putting them both together mostly because BatB Riddler features in I think only one episode and he deserves a mention because he’s adorable.  TB Riddler was an interesting experiment into a Riddler that, for whatever reason, never really came into himself as a person and instead sort of enacts revenge for his existence on life.  If I remember correctly he’s also pretty low-key about his intelligence, which is another interesting character choice.  I respect the things they went for but this Riddler overall gives me the impression of a person who always says no when invited to something but gets upset when people stop asking which, while definitely something the Riddler would do, isn’t really my preferred take.

8. Snyder Riddler (New 52).  The problem I have with this Riddler is that I have no idea what his motivation even is.  I was told a long time ago that a backstory for him WAS written but didn’t make it into Zero Year because the story was already too long, which is... not a great look for a professional storyteller.  And because we don’t know anything about this Riddler, this story consists of a dude who wears green to impress women (which he never shows any interest in), gets the mob to work for him... somehow... and decides to spend a YEAR watching the people in Gotham die because... I’m not sure?  If it amused him, sure, I could understand that.  But he just seems super bored during the entirety of the story.  He doesn’t even seem particularly excited when Batman actually shows up in front of him.  Beyond Zero Year his appearances are, to my knowledge, limited mostly to two issues in Batman Eternal, where he’s hiding, three issues of The Flash, where he speedruns Zero Year and is undone by the Flash villains teaming up against him (which I don’t know enough about Flash villains to comment on), and Scarecrow 23.2, where he for some unexplained reason seems to look up to Scarecrow.  And then there’s Detective Comics: Future’s End, which is just the worst thing ever.  Snyder didn’t write all of these stories, but they are based on his Riddler.

9. Gotham Riddler.  I didn’t watch past season 3 so I can’t comment on too much after that, but the arc with Mad Grey Dawn and ‘I knew that you knew that I knew’ was some of the greatest Riddler stuff we had gotten in years and if they had just kept on with that they would have had one of the greatest Riddlers of all time. 

10. Jeph Loeb/Tim Sale Riddler.  Full disclaimer I haven’t read Catwoman: When in Rome, but I have read The Long Halloween and Dark Victory.  The reason I don’t like this Riddler is because he actually bears no resemblance to him.  He’s a literal moron who just stumbles around incompetently for the duration of his relevance to the plot.  It’s like they decided to make an ironic Riddler who is actually stupid and also for the first time in his life does not have the ability to locate a tailor.  I don’t actually understand the point of this Riddler’s existence.  He isn’t even really Riddler, he’s just some sort of vaguely Riddler-coloured person.

[honestlyhufflepuff]

Mr. Universe Breakdown

I just had a lot of feelings about tonight’s episodes, so come with me while I attempt to process them.

Ice cream and pie for dinner is great, but you can kind of tell Steven is eating it more for his dad’s sake than his own.

The entire "Dear Old Dad" callback is so sweet, imma cry.

I love how Steven is this nearly adult drool-snoring with his mouth wide open in Greg's van and Greg still looks at him like he's the cutest child ever.

Alright, this expression with that weak laugh was the first hint we get that Steven is not totally into this. He's trying, but it's getting wearing.

Trying on tacky convenience store sunglasses and Greg noping out of the bathroom were peak moments.

Matching icons, anyone??

Greg, you live in a van, how are your standards that high?

Also, I wasn’t expecting Guacola to have a callback. No redemption arc for that abomination of a beverage.

“Dad, you’re rich, you don’t have to steal!”

I love how Steven just immediately assumes his dad is taking him to steal stuff. I’m doing this react on my second watch through, but I immediately knew this was the house Greg grew up in.

There’s a picture of the barn in the hallway! And a “Love Lives Here” sign. Oh no, is that this Universe’s equivalent to “Live, Laugh, Love?” Here I thought Greg avoided his parents because they were toxic or abusive, but it turns out they’re probably just super lame and cramped his style.

“Sorry for breaking into your lovely home. You seem like such nice people, with excellent tastes.”

First watch through, I totally thought this was a sarcastic little teen snark comment. Because come on. This decor is the quintessential representation of dated-grandparent-mild-hoarder-chic. On my second watch through, this seems utterly genuine. This house represents a peaceful, happy, stable life that Steven’s never known, and that he thinks he never will. He has so much longing to take in every single detail, before he even knows the people who live in that house are related to him. I had to take a break after writing that sentence because I got emotional.

He is more than strong enough to forcibly stop his dad from “stealing,” or to demand an explanation from him, but instead he goes off to write an “i’m srry we broke into ur house lol” note. Seems like he wanted a justifiable reason to explore this house.

Steven thinks later in the ep that Greg rejected a perfect life, but why would the parents not open any of Greg’s letters? Do they know about Steven? Do they care? It seems like they would care quite a bit, given that all of Greg’s memories have been preserved throughout the house, and yet no pictures of Steven, which tells me they don’t know about him. It’s not lost on me that Greg uses a PO box so they can’t find him (also because he still lives in a van). Is Greg repeatedly sending them checks so he feels he doesn’t owe them anything, and they are just refusing to cash them? I have so many questions.

Alright, so Steven is SO EXCITED to see Greg’s childhood memories. So excited to see his roots. To see his own connection to his human heritage. And Greg just shuts it down.

Way back in “Gem Harvest,” Greg saw how desperate Steven was to make a relationship with Uncle Andy work. And yet Greg did nothing to expose him to other human relatives.

In his attempt to grant Steven “freedom,” he just bound him and lived through him in a different way than his own parents did. If Steven’s upbringing was really about freedom more than Greg projecting his own issues, then Steven would have been given the option to have grandparents in his life. He would have gotten to decide if he liked meatloaf every Thursday and been given the chance to take road trips to their warm, lived in little house. It is a huge, glaring mistake that Greg never gave Steven that chance, especially after seeing how much he loved Andy.

“Leave that junk behind.”

Greg found the one memory he was looking for, and paid no attention to what Steven was drawn to.

“I get it, Steven. When I was just little Gregory Demayo I was going through the motions. Doing what everybody else wanted.”

And yet that’s exactly what he’s having Steven do. He’s literally having Steven walk in his footsteps to find himself in the same way he did, and he’s so lost in his own nostalgia that he’s not understanding that the reason that path worked for him was because he chose it. Steven’s way of breaking free and finding himself might end up being horribly boring and domestic to Greg, since that was something he never knew growing up.

This song is pretty tight, but Steven is not feeling it. Read the room, Greg. It’s like that “who wants to go a ROAAAAD TRIPPP??” line all over again.

“I don’t need this song, I need what you had...they can’t have been worse than mom’s family. I went half way across the galaxy for them, and THIS was right here??”

PREACH, Steven! He has always been so desperate for family. I’m getting so frustrated with Greg for denying him that choice because of his own hangups with authority figures.

Steven: You’re just like mom!

Greg: You grew up with actual freedom!

Steven: I grew up in a van!

Oh geez, stuff is about to go down. The leak did not prepare me for this moment.

“My problem isn’t that I’m a gem! My problem is that I’m a UNIVERSE!”

And here we see Steven shift from blaming his mom for everything, to blaming his dad for everything. And it’s so cathartic, honestly. It’s hard to be mad at Greg because he’s just so sweet and gentle, and rarely gets angry back at someone even when they are angry at him. And he genuinely loves the crap out of Steven. Even with all that, however, he is not blameless. And Steven has a right to call him out on that.

Scene breakdown: The driver’s side is totally crushed. The impact is enough that Steven was unconscious while Greg pulled him out of the car, and while he called for a tow truck. Think of all the impacts Steven hasn’t been knocked unconscious for, including all those hits from Jasper in the very next episode. If he was a normal human, Steven would have died on impact here. His gem probably was working overtime rapidly healing multiple fractures and internal bleeding in his brain.

And here’s where Steven starts to tune Greg out. I can’t help but see a parallel to when Aquamarine/Bluebird gets so annoyed with Steven’s relentless positivity.

I guess the talent of delivering all those cheesy motivational pep talks came from Greg. You know what, though? Forced positivity is just widening the divide between them at this point. Steven is not in a positive place right now, and he did his best to express why, but instead of owning up to anything Greg is just chalking it up to him “going through a hard time right now.” On the surface he appears sympathetic, but his response is ultimately condescending and invalidating.

And in the background he just talks about eating ice cream for more meals, like that’s going to fix everything. Like Steven didn’t just tell him that was the opposite of what he needed.

Even at this moment Greg never offers to connect him with his human family, when Steven has very clearly stated that’s what he wants.

I never would have thought a simple scene deleting a photo would be so tense. The building music, continuing to make Greg seem further away. The tired, bitter look in Steven’s eyes. This is like a villain origin story wtf.

Steven is slowly running out of people who he feels he can connect with. At the start of SUF it was the gems, and then it was Connie, and now it’s Greg. With that deleted photo he’s decided that Greg is no longer worth confiding in. He’s just another person who won’t listen.

I thought this scene would be the most painful one I saw tonight, until I saw Fragments...

[xiolaperry]

The Piano - Chapter 2

Notes: My Camp NaNoWriMo Project for April 2020.  A Rumbelling of the 1993 movie ‘The Piano’. Has 14 chapters, all are written. I’ll post one every few days. Some dialogue is taken directly from the film and from ‘Once Upon a Time’. No copyright infringement intended - I’m just having fun. The film is gorgeous, if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend that you watch it.

Summary:  Belle French and her daughter arrive in New Zealand to an arranged marriage with Gaston LeGume.  Gaston shows little interest in her or her piano and books. However, Mr. Gold is fascinated…

Rating: E (for smut, dark subject matter and violence in future chapters) 

Also available on AO3

---

Things were not progressing the way Gaston had pictured in his head.

“You have a good many boxes and trunks. I'd like to know what's in them. How about this one,” he asked, pointing at a box.

Belle gestured to the writing on the side: Crockery and Pots.

“Oh. Yes. Pots.” Gaston wiped at his forehead with an embroidered handkerchief. “And this? This is huge. What's in it? A bed frame or something?” He hit the crate with his fist for emphasis. The piano inside produced a reverberating echo from being struck. Belle spread her arms across the top protectively.

Tilly spoke to her step-father for the first time. “It's my mother's piano.”

“A piano. And these trunks?” He rapped against the side of the closest one with his axe. Belle flinched.

“Those are books.”

Gaston turned away. “Gold. Tell the men to carry the boxes and suitcases.” Gold spoke to the group and gave them instructions. The Maori divided up the cargo.

Belle took the small notepad and pencil from the silver case she wore around her neck. She wrote some brief words on the paper. She brought it to Gaston, Tilly following close behind.

“The piano? The books?” he read aloud.

“No. They can't come now.” He crumpled the note.

“They must!” Tilly was her mother's voice. She knew what these things meant to her. “She wants them to come.”

“I understand. But there aren't enough of us to carry everything.” He looked at Belle. “TOO HEAVY,” he added in a louder tone, enunciating the words.

Belle felt the first stirrings of fear. She hadn't been scared when she realized she was pregnant. She hadn't been frightened when her father told her of the arranged marriage, or during the storm at sea. But this was too much. She wrote another note. He had to understand. “I NEED them. Please.”

“You'd rather have them than your kitchenware or your clothing?”

Belle signed to Tilly. “We can't leave the piano or the books. I don't care about the rest.”

Gaston stood straighter, assuming an air of authority. “We cannot waste time discussing this.” He began a prepared speech. “I'm pleased you've arrived safely-”

“Mother wants to know if we can come back for them...”

Gaston's eyes widened. Had a child interrupted him? He ignored her and continued to speak to Belle. “I would like to apologize for the unavoidable delay that led to your spending the night on the beach-”

As he spoke Belle signed, her fingers flying like angry bees.

“Can we return for them after they have delivered the other things? She must have them.”

Gaston's mouth hung open. Interrupted again?

Gold was impressed. He had never seen Gaston control his temper so well. This just kept getting more interesting.

One of the Maori, Kamira, noticed his distress and found it hilarious. He laughed, and brought Granny over to enjoy the scene. Gaston didn't understand what they were saying, but he never took laughter (other than his own) as a good sign.

“The matter is closed. The trunks and piano will remain here. Prepare yourselves for a difficult journey. The mud is very deep in places.”

Gaston clenched his jaw and walked away. He could not believe two females challenged him. Two small females, at that. The piano and books were unneeded. His authority as a man and head of the house must stand. What an odd girl. Choosing books and a piano over clothes and household goods? Over useful things? It made no sense.

“What do you think of her?” he asked Gold. “Odd, isn't she? She'll learn who’s boss.”

“She looks tired. It was a long voyage, with a major disappointment at the end.”

“Oh, she'll get over it. What does a woman need books for anyway?” he replied, not understanding the implication that he was the disappointment. “I'll go on ahead and lead the way. Have them bring up the rear.”

Boxes and valises collected, the party set their backs to the ocean and walked toward the cliffs. Gaston did not speak to Belle, nor did he look at her. He strode ahead, confident they would follow. What other option did they have?

Belle had no choice. Straightening her spine, she took Tilly’s hand. She did not look back. She told herself she wouldn't.

However, after climbing the hill they reached a point on the cliff where there was a sudden view down onto the beach. The mist from the ocean gave her piano and books a surreal haze. They were forlorn, stark against the pale sand. It was almost more than Belle could bear, seeing them abandoned and alone, and she could not look away.

Gold saw the depth of emotion in her eyes. There was more to this than just a woman insisting on her own way. It was important. But what could he do? He couldn't very well carry the piano on his back. Even the trunks of books would be too much for him with his leg. Sympathetic, he waited a few minutes and then cleared his throat.

Belle took a deep breath. She could do this. But she would return and retrieve these pieces of her life. The sound of the crashing waves receded behind them.

---

Ferns and moss abounded in the humid climate. A jumble of trees, vines, leaves and roots passed before her eyes. Through it all she heard the confident voice of Mr. Gold. Gaston might think he was the leader, but it was obvious who was in charge.

Adrenaline and residual anger, the only things keeping her going during the first half of the journey, had worn off. Now she was weary to her bones. Exhaustion kept her curious nature in check. Her overwhelming impression of this new land was mud. It stained her skirts and sucked at her boots. Tilly, resilient as children are, tromped along with good humor. She was happy to be off the ship, with a change of scenery after the monotony of the ocean. Granny noticed her enthusiasm and pointed things out to her, giving her their names: the enormous kauri trees, harakeke plants covered in korimako birds, and edible white flowered maikaika lilies. Belle was glad that at least her daughter was enjoying herself.

As he whacked at the underbrush, Gaston's good humor returned. He reassured himself that Belle was beautiful. This was important for a man as handsome as he. He had assumed she would be biddable, full of gratitude that a man like him would want to marry her despite her muteness and an illegitimate child. He would be firm but patient, and their relationship would grow in time.

When it began to rain, Belle despaired of ever reaching her new home. Her dress, soaked from the storm, grew heavier. Would they march forever in circles, trapped in an infinite forest from Tilly's stories?

At last, they arrived at a large clearing with a wooden house. Gaston was proud of what he had built. He had fought back the bush using a slash and burn technique. He envisioned manicured lawns and gardens, land transformed and subdued to his will. All Belle saw was a barren graveyard of mud. She was too tired to care.

Gaston paid the men. Boxes and suitcases lay in a jumble on the covered porch. Mr. Gold left with Kamira and Granny. The three of them were alone for the first time.

“Here are the bedrooms,” he said, opening the doors. “Tomorrow I will show you my property. Please make yourselves at home. I have a few chores to tend to, excuse me.” He left them to poke around for themselves.

Belle put their things in the smaller room. She would share a bed with Tilly. She was not ready to share one with a stranger and was grateful it did not seem that he would insist she do so. He might not be the prince from a fairy-tale, but at least for the moment he was not the villain. They slipped off their muddy clothes and collapsed into the bed.

[kendrixtermina]

Thoughts re: antagonists

Fair warning: I will be treating “Rhea is an antagonist” as an axiom here to base further discussion on it, if you disagree with that premise then this post isnt for you but im not gonna go into details about proving/arguing it here. 

So on the surface Fodlan appears like your standards issue medieval fantasy setting governed by the rulers of the three countries, but it’s actually a sort of post-apocalyptic leftover of a world where advanced technology once existed, a bit like those legends or pseudoscientific theories about a grand, but sinful civilization before the biblical great flood or Atlantis. Man Grey Proud, wiped out by divine punishment yadda yadda resulting in a setting with two main antagonistic forces that have control and shaped the current state of Fodlans politics through the centuries and have been locked in a costly eternal war:

There’s the remaining Agarthans who want to destroy the surface dwelling civilization AND the Nabateans to rule the surface themselves (which makes them enemies of the church) and there’s Rhea who effectively rules Fodlan from the shadows to the extent that she’s basically arranged the three countries so that her base is in the middle, since the ruling class takes its legitimacy from the church and she makes sure to indoctrinate them when theyre young. 

The result is a world thats rife with instability, inequality, xenophobia caused by isolationism, obsession with bloodlines etc. all side effects of maintaining church power, none of which is doing much to keep the Agarthans in check - they deposed the last emperor and assasinated the last king, have agents in Rhea’s own base and Rhea’s too busy lashing out against random revolts brought on by her incompetent rule to investigate and weed out the real enemy

You have Rhea representing “nothing changes”/ eternal stagnation of Fodlan’s sucky state as it is, Lawful Evil or a “rule the world” villain whereas you have the Agarthans who just plain want to destroy the order of Fodlan so they can rule it,  Chaotic Evil or “destroy the world” villains - We see what Cornelia and Arundel do in the territories they get a hold of, they just squeeze the peasants for their last tax dollar, do forced labor, institute tyrannical and capricious rule... etc suggesting that if they won the people would basically end up as livestock. 

Clearly that’s worse; Rhea’s world sucks but you can still kinda live in it and she will be nice to you if you stay on her good side. But she doesn’t see humans as capable or deserving of governing themselves either. (whereas all three lords basically end up giving the commoners varying degrees of political participation)

They’re even represented as Black (Liberation Army with Agarthan stragglers) and White (Church under rhea) on the map for the chapter introductions whereas the other factions get colors (Empire - Red, Kingdom - Blue, Alliance - yellow, resistance army/reformed church - silver/purple)

The Agarthans are fun conceptually in what they imply for the setting but as characters they don’t get much dimensionality but I don’t think they need to be _ I too used to think pure evil was boring, then I lived through 2016 et al and due to endless frustration with the remaining politicians got to appreciate that the revelant thing about pure evil isn’t the evildoers themselves but how you manage dealing with them in a world with complex webs and balances of power, conflicting self interests etc basically no unambiguos “pure good” everyone can agree on . Pure evil is ultimately an abstraction every evil person likely got evil somehow and could theoretically turn good - but many of them won’t and we still have to deal with it. And that’s the point here - what will the good and neutral people do about it? Will they fall for the traps play the games and be turned against each other? 

Often dysfunctional systems happen not so much because there are evil people (there are always evil people) but because the good and neutral people are too busy bickering to stop them even though the good want to do good and the neutral should at least want to protect their own interests from the villains.

Generally Chaotic Evil tends to be sorta more interesting because it’s the cooler villains/creatures or it’s someone lashing out, whereas lawful evil tends to be crotchery old men and kind of pathetic (See Harry Potter for example) and are often engaged with as sorta younger person rebelling against crotchery old people.

But that also comes with the idea that Lawful Evil is Not You. You can easily see your capacity for destruction as you all get mad and have negative emotions but we all like to think we wouldn’t fall prey to blindly following authority... though studies repeatedly show that ppl overestimate themselves. 

So Rhea is interesting in that she and her most uncompromising followers are semi sympathetic thoroughly examined version of Lawful Evil. (Sympathetic enough that they let you subject her to “love redeems” if you want to, though her S support still acknowledges that she used to be a villain, deceive everyone and used to care nothing for byleth until very recently - You don’t need to marry, say,  Dimitri so that he starts acting responsibly. heck, you could run off with any of his best friends!)  Ppl who are especially susceptible to authority often do so because they feel scared,  view the world as dangerous and sort of never fully made that transition from child to adolescent and subsequently young adult where you stop doing what your parents tell you and start making your own experiences. They’re scared of the unfamiliar and want a strong parent figure to swoop in and protect them and tell them what to think. 

Rhea describes herself as the “last” Child of Sothis meaning she was the youngest, she might’ve been relatively young when the massacre happened (at least by Nabatean standards). She probably survived only cause she hid in fear or because her brothers protected her. 

Eventually she raised an army, got allies and dethroned Nemesis and his ilk, effectively ending up as one of the leaders of her country. The people probably loved her alot after all she got rid of the murdery bandit king - seeing as he has a general might makes right attitude and wasnt above massacring a whole clans worth of innocents for power, he was prolly not a good ruler to live under. 

 She felt she had to live up to the mission left behind by their mother (as Seteth said they view themselves as the protectors of Fodlan) but she still acts as if she were that scared helpless little girl.  She never got the memo that she’s in power and privilege now because sometimes that’s kinda how the mind works. So as she started getting increasingly tyranical she saw it all as “protecting herself” or “doing the will of her mother”. You can see how she got to be that way and follow that progression on an emotional level

She views herself not as the leader that she is, but solely as Sothis’ representative holding down the fort till she returns, and doesn’t enjoy being a leader indeed many things like tea quotes, advice box letters, higher order supports etc. imply that she kinda hates it and finds it lonesome. 

Which also makes her a contrast for the main characters but in different ways - Claude and Edelgard (incidentally the ones who actively oppose her and find out at least some of what her deal is) are very independent, self-reliant and self-determined even at a young age, and even though they have experienced comparable crap, especially Edelgard. Meanwhile Dimitri actually had a lot in common with her in terms of backstory and character flaws and going overboard/hitting the wrong target in pursuit of initially justified revenge and tending toward black and white thinking. You kinda see why they join up in CF -  though he has tons more responsibility, empathy and self-awareness even as his very worst and in his own route he eventually winds up doing pretty much the exact opposite as hes strictly against imposing anything on people and ends up letting them have some say in how he governs them

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 11

Master List | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Nothing really.

A/N: This is pretty much just fluff. Next chapter will have some angst and after that, some fun things start happening. I really hope y’all are loving these two. 

(Also shout out to my own Mr. Goldstein who owned a dusty little bookstore. He was the absolute best!)

Tags are open!

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby  @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @soulless-and-sarcastic

There’s a distinct shift in him the moment you walk outside that you didn’t notice last night. His face is hard again, that frozen look screaming don’t fuck with me or I will kill you. He stays close, pacing himself to match your smaller stride and always on the side facing the road.

You slip into a dimly lit thrift store. The bored cashier hardly notices you and continues to look at her phone. A wave of nostalgia hits you. How many times had you wasted an afternoon digging for treasure at places like this? Every apartment you’d had was decorated in secondhand finds, half your wardrobe was either handmade or thrifted. Your heart lifts. And without thinking you head to a rack of dresses.

He doesn’t say anything. Your hand glides over an airy black maxi dress complete with bell sleeves and crochet details, very Stevie Nicks, very close to your size. Very not what you’re here for. You sigh.

“Old habits,” you say forcing a dry laugh and he just softly smiles.

At the men’s racks, you grab a few pairs of jeans and a couple of button-ups you think will work, t-shirts you’ll buy new. “Excuse me?” You say in flawless Romanian, thanks again Hydra, “Is there somewhere I can try these on.” The cashier doesn’t even look up just points to a curtain at the back of the store.

He eyes it suspiciously. “I’ll check for monsters,” you say over your shoulder.

It all fits well enough. You snag a pair of sweatpants and a few sweaters, fall was setting in hard, as you head to the front. Items in hand you tease, “Acceptable?”

“It’ll do,” he smirks. You note the bag in his hand. “Jeans,” he shrugs.

You pay though you’re pretty sure you could have walked out with everything and she wouldn’t have cared. “Now I can stop stealing your shirts,” you say as you slip your sunglasses on outside.

“That one doesn’t really fit me anyway. In the chest.” You do your best not to think of a button up straining against his frame and fail… miserably.

You see a used bookstore up ahead. “Mind if we stop in?”

“Sure. You like to read?”

“Well yeah.”

“I just didn’t see any books.”

You shrug. “I’ve been going to libraries. But, I’m a regular bibliophile.” You open the door, a cheery bell tings. A giant orange tabby stretches on the counter, far more attentive than the thrift store cashier.

A small squeak slips from your lips, “Ooooh baby hiiii!” You scratch the cat’s chin and he purrs loudly. “You’re a pretty baby,” you dig your hands into his fur cupping his face and planting a kiss on his pink nose.

“Cat person?” He’s eying you.

“Oh…” You pull back, “Yeah… I mean dogs are great too but I’ve always had an affinity for cats.”

“Buna dimineata!” A bent old man calls from the back of the store and you can see Bucky tense up. “You’ve met Victor I see, he’s got better hearing than me these days.” The man steps behind the counter and pets his companion. “Can I help you find anything?”

You can’t help but smile. You’re sure to drop your voice a bit before asking, “Do you have any books in English?”

“Oh yes!” He waves you to five somewhat sparse rows of shelves in the back. “These are in English, and I’ve got more boxes in the back I haven’t gone through yet.”

“Can we look at those?” You’re surprised at Bucky’s question.

“Sure, sure,” he begins to hobble to the back door. You go to follow but Bucky catches you with his left hand, gentle whirring of gears, and he gestures for you to stay behind him. There’s a part of you that’s annoyed but you’re also undeniably touched.

You walk into a dusty back room filled with books. “Lots of back stock. It’s hard for me to get through it all these days.” Bucky looks around the tension seems to slip from him.

“We could help you,” he looks at you as if to ask if that’s ok with you. You nod in agreement, not like you have some pressing engagement.

The man is visibly surprised, “Well I,” he clears his throat, “I couldn’t exactly pay you.

“We’d take payment in books,” you say and it’s Bucky’s turn to nod in agreement.

“Truly?” You both nod and Bucky flashes one of those smiles. The old man lets out a raspy laugh. “Well,” he gives you both a once over, “why not,” he throws his arms up in exclamation. Holding a hand to Bucky, “Robert Goldstein.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” he gives the man's hand a firm shake, “Grant.”

You eye him, that’s the most random name. The man reaches to you, “Nicholas.”

He shows you both where the ladder you won't be needing is and when he grasps at his back Bucky leads him to the front and insists he relax that the two of you are happy to help.

While he’s up front you pick up an old book, not bothering to look at the title, and open it. You don’t look at the words just bury your nose in the pages and breathe deep. Next to coffee, this is the best smell in the world.

“Better than flowers,” you didn’t hear him behind you and your jump sends you about three feet in the air. “Woah, sorry,” he lays his right hand on your forearm coaxing you back to the ground. “Do, uh, you always get a little… floaty when you’re startled?”

You laugh and set the book down. “Not always.” You glance to his hand still on your arm and he quickly removes it. “Do you always sort books for random old men?” He laughs a bit.

“Nah,” he pulls a box off the top of a metal shelf.

“Did he say how he’d like them sorted?”

The box thuds to the ground, and a little mushroom cloud of dust lifts. He reaches for another. “Yeah, ‘Lose alphabetical order.’” Another plop and dust cloud. “Said there’s the English book section he showed us and most everything else is Romanian.” He plucks a book off the top, “This box must be one of the Romanian ones.” He sits, back facing the door, and gestures to the other. “No work, no free books.” You playfully use your power to toss a book from one of the boxes at his face, he catches it. “You’ve really got to stop hitting me in the head with things. I’m a fragile old man.” You snort out a laugh and take a seat.

You sort through the first two boxes, he takes A-K and you the rest. Once Mr. Goldstein sees you two are actually doing what you said you would he’s delighted, thanking you both profusely. Happy to see that there are, “Nice young men left in the world.”

Bucky makes it back to the storeroom before you and has already set two more down. “English,” he says holding up a copy of Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“Nice,” you take your place.

“You want this one?”

The words tumble out, easily, before you can stop them, “No, I’ve always been more of a tragedies girl. The others are so overdone, and so often done badly. Plus I think his villains are often more compelling than his heroes.”

“Got a strong opinion on The Bard I see.” Your heart races a little. You want to say that was another Y/N, but you just can’t. Instead, you shrug. “Got a favorite?” He hands it to you for your S pile.

“Macbeth,” you say automatically staring at the cover featuring that stupid donkey head.

He gives you a second to see if you’ll elaborate before asking, “Why Macbeth?”

You open your mouth and nothing comes out at first then it’s as if a ghost possesses you and you spill as you sort a bunch of shitty harlequin romances, “I always liked Lady Macbeth, she’s diabolical but also she’s just trying to make it in a male-dominated world, and she’s not sympathetic, not really. Women characters are so often on that maiden, mother, whore spectrum and in a way, I always felt she subverted that. Then there’s the witches, powerful women who don’t give a fuck, so good. They were fun to do too.”

He gives you that squinting look, “Were you an actress?”

And she’s off again, that automatic rebuttal as second nature as breathing, “Hell no. I’m a-“ you bite your tongue. You’re dead Y/N, you aren’t anything anymore… You clear your throat, ignore the tears burning in your eyes. “Was, I was a technician. Costumes.” You grab the books, your box empty. “I’m going to put these up.” You leave before he can say anything else. Fucking Shakespeare.

(End note: I really love feedback. Like not even reblogs (not that those aren’t also great) because whatever if you want to reblog you will. But just dropping a response or ask or whatever is so cool to me. I’m not writing for the notes 🙂)

[saints-row-2]

film watch day 30: A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy’s Revenge

Nightmare on Elm Street is not my favourite slasher franchise. while i can appreciate the first one for being a masterwork of horror, i have really no interest in subsequent sequels, and dont particularly like Freddy Krueger as a character after he stopped being a threatening villain and just became a joke. all that said, Nightmare on Elm Street 2 is fucking great. 

spoilers for this movie ahead, which im bothering to warn about because i do sincerely recommend it, but i also like, want to talk about this in-depth so im gonna have to give away the plot. 

like along with being honestly creepy and suspenseful and having a very likeable main character, i love NoES 2 because the running years-old argument of ‘is NoES 2 gay?’ finally got an answer a little while ago. it is! and while i reject the concept that you need an author to sign off on a gay reading of a text to give it legitimacy, theres something kind of great still about knowing that it was intentional. NoES 2 is a story where Freddy Krueger is a metaphor for homophobia, acting as conversion therapy for a gay teenager.

so NoES2 is about Jesse, whose family has just moved into a house on Elm Street. of course, he begins having vivid nightmares about a terrifying man called Freddy Krueger. however instead of just wanting to kill Jesse, Freddy is actively trying to drive Jesse to kill so that he can take over Jesse’s body, forcing the two to battle over which of them gets control.

lets talk about the gay subtext, which is the only thing i care about in any movie ever. so Jesse is a young dude whos starting to figure out his sexuality. his parents know something is up, but they mostly just want him to toughen up and be normal. he has a girlfriend, but hes uncomfortable being intimate with her and keeps pushing her away so he can hang out with his male friend. hes a nice kid and a good person. he is very transparently gay-coded. his actor, a guy called Mark Patton for whom i have enormous fucking respect and who quit Hollywood acting because he (rightly) felt the industry was intolerant of him as a gay man, influences this to a large degree. his personality shows through in his performance, and i think thats a large part of the reason why people latched onto this as a gay movie so early; its incredibly easy to identify with and connect with Jesse. 

so Jesse is a young man trying to come to terms with his sexual identity, but someone takes offense to that, and thats where Freddy Krueger comes in. when Freddy initially asks Jesse to become like him, to kill for him, Jesse obviously refuses. seeing that Jesse will not willingly be what he wants, Freddy decides to forcibly convert him to his way of being.

NoES2 has a pretty low body count for a horror movie; the only two character deaths in the film are, in turn, a teacher at Jesse’s school rumoured to be gay, and Jesse’s male best friend who he was emotionally confiding in. even later in the movie, a guy approaches the Freddy-possessed Jesse and sympathetically asks him if he needs help, tries to offer support. Freddy tosses him to the side, removing yet another person from Jesse’s life. Krueger quite literally is destroying the male connections in Jesse’s life; he sees connections with them that he doesnt want, so he systematically erases them in order to keep Jesse isolated and in fear.

Jesse, who his girlfriend admits has been nervous and unsure of having an intimate relationship, is encouraged by Freddy during one of the few times they kiss, Freddy actively taking over his body in that moment and trying to force him to take it further. Krueger toys with Lisa, the girlfriend, but doesnt actually try to kill her, only chasing and harassing her while he dispatches with the men around Jesse without care. 

theres a lot of talk about identity in this film, in an abstract way. a lot of people talk about this film being gay because look! this guy has a man inside him lol! but i  think the focus is wrong there. Freddy is a violent intruder to the natural order of Jesse’s life; he wants Jesse to be frightened and alone, because thats what makes him powerful. he wants Jesse to hide and repress his personality, lose all sense of himself, and be in Freddy’s own mold. Freddy encourages Jesse to kill, to cut off the people in his life, to be like him; a violent misogynist who treats the people around him with contempt and has shallow, controlling relationships with women. 

during the climax of the movie Freddy succeeds in taking over Jesse’s body. “Jesse’s dead, I’m Jesse now” he repeats, as he wreaks havoc in the real world. the way Jesse overcomes Freddy isnt through violent action against him, its by literally breaking through the outside persona imprisoning him and coming out as himself. he destroys the heterosexual outer shell thats controlling him and making him do and say things he hates, and takes control of his life. this is a film about coming out as a powerful force for good. 

to see the entirety of the gay subtext in this film you kind of have to just watch it. again im gonna cite Mark Patton’s performance; he brings a huge amount of personality to Jesse and the film wouldnt be the same without him. and theres so many one-liners and eyebrow raising moments that really add to the greater idea that this movie is about a gay teenager, whether or not thats what it says on the box. like, this film for me is an honestly affirming and positive movie, and it makes me wish there were a lot more gay horror films out there. i mean, i wish that anyway, but this is such a weird example of how to do it right in its own way; creating an environment in which the message of the film can so easily be read as ‘coming out is good’.

also the film is just like, fun. its ridiculously campy and its often very silly but the goofiness and the fun tone stop it from getting too bleak, while Krueger himself manages to keep a respectful enough distance that he actually feels like a tangible threat and not someones wacky murdering uncle. 

and check out these outfits from Jesse

this is how i dress now. icon. 

[spookyblueegg-blog]

Rika and BPD (Or, why you don’t have to like Rika, but shouldn’t just brand her as evil)

Okay, first off, TW for those who have BPD, or who have loved ones with BPD, due to the rather insensitive way in which Cheritz portrayed the disorder.

Now. It’s perfectly understandable if you don’t like Rika. She’s done a lot of really terrible, hurtful things--things that are difficult to forgive. However, I do think it’s both unfair and inaccurate to brand Rika as outright evil, or call her a snake, a bitch, etc, etc, because her behavior is rooted in sickness rather than active malice. And no, don’t worry, I’m not trying to say that her mental illness absolves her of responsibility for her actions. She does need to be held accountable for her wrongdoings, but knowing why she does all of these things makes her much more sympathetic. Hear me out.

With the release of V’s route (hooray for everyone’s favorite teal cinnamon roll), we learn a lot of new information about Rika, and gain quite a bit of new insight into her character. With this new information, it’s become pretty clear that Rika shows textbook signs of Borderline Personality Disorder. The link provides a more detailed overview from the NIMH (which in turn is derived from the DSM-5), but I’ll list the symptoms below for easier access:

(Continued under the cut, since this got pretty long.)

Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment

A pattern of intense and unstable relationships with loved ones, often swinging from extreme closeness and love (idealization) to extreme dislike or anger (devaluation)

These first two are big ones, and are famously summarized by the phrase “I hate you, don’t leave me” that commonly characterizes BPD. And they’re very evident in Rika’s past and present behavior. She has deep-seated fears of abandonment stemming from serious childhood neglect and trauma (e.g., her dad abandoning the family, her mother killing herself, her aunt saying that she regretted adopting her...). Childhood neglect is a common risk factor for BPD, and it’s understandable why. If people have abandoned you from an impressionable young age, it’s easy to imagine that the pattern will continue.

This is (rather infamously) demonstrated in her extremely unhealthy relationship with V, as shown in the picture above. However, Rika isn’t doing this because she’s some awful manipulative bitch, as many seem to think. She’s doing this because she afraid that he’s going to leave her, just as her parents did. And she’s lashing out in response to that fear. While it’s unclear whether she’s referencing her adoptive parents or her biological parents (the former seems more likely, considering how the latter died when she was very young), it ultimately doesn’t matter. All of them abandoned her, and now she feels like another person that she loves is behaving in the same way that they are (e.g., not appreciating her, betraying her, etc). And so she thinks that he’s going to do the same thing that they did, and leave her.

The pattern continues with the MC, in V’s bad ending.

“I hate you, but I love you.” She’s not being contradictory here. She’s just exhibiting the idealization/devaluation pattern here once again. The symptom list goes on and on, with Rika checking off pretty much every single box:

Recurring suicidal behaviors or threats or self-harming behavior

Intense and highly changeable moods

Distorted and unstable self-image or sense of self

Impulsive and often dangerous behaviors

Chronic feelings of emptiness

Inappropriate, intense anger or problems controlling anger

Having stress-related paranoid thoughts

Having severe dissociative symptoms, such as feeling cut off from oneself, or losing touch with reality

All of her seemingly “bitchy” or “evil” behavior isn’t because she’s some terrible person, but rather stem from symptoms of a very severe personality disorder. Now, here’s where things get dicey, because Cheritz decided to take this woman with obvious BPD and then make her the villain of the story. I think it should be fairly obvious that people with BPD don’t normally start brainwashing cults and blinding their fiancees. As someone who has loved ones with BPD, this “violent and unstable” portrayal of BPD upset me, because it’s a tired old negative stereotype. However, as rare as it is, it is true that some people with BPD can become potentially violent when lashing out in fear and desperation. And that’s what Rika does. During dramatic mood swings, people with BPD often report feeling like they’re “losing their minds,” and can seem like two totally different people within the span of a few weeks (e.g., RFA leader Rika vs. cult leader Rika). And, as referenced by the last symptom above, extreme actions due to a loss of touch with reality are also possible (see: Mint Eye. She genuinely believes she’s helping lead these people into some kind of paradise). 

A lot of her other behavior, such as refusing to go in for treatment, also become more understandable within the context of BPD. BPD is infamously difficult to treat, and carries with it a very heavy stigma that would only be worse in Korea, where mental illness is still treated as a taboo subject. However, what people with BPD need is loving but firm support from the people around them to continue treatment. How V reacted, while based in good intentions, was very, very bad for Rika, by essentially enabling her destructive behavior and continuing the cycle again and again.

I have a friend with BPD who once told me that as much as she was sure everyone in the world hated her, she was the one who hated herself the most. I could go on and on, but the crux of the message is this: Rika does very bad things, but she’s suffering too. You don’t have to like her, or forgive her, but I think it’s important to recognize that she’s not evil. It sucks to see such a heavily BPD-coded character reviled in this way, because I’ve personally seen how people with BPD in reality get treated in very similar ways--getting called a “psycho” or a “bitch,” when they’re really just sick and in need of help. We should be better than that, you guys.

TL;DR: just check out the last paragraph, bby. thanks.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Win the Race (ao3 link) Fandom: Flash, Legends of Tomorrow, references to Arrow Pairing: Barry Allen/Iris West; Leonard Snart/Mick Rory

Summary: You make some adjustments when aliens attack and a whole bunch of people get abducted.

Adjustments like adopting some kids - very quick kids -

(in which Len and Mick accidentally adopt Barry and Iris' kids)

A/N: Set past the end of Flash season 3. Very few Legends.

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

Losing Barry had hurt worse than anything.

Iris didn't want to eat - their favorite places - or see anyone - everyone reminded her of him - or, well, do anything.

They'd sent out their save the date cards, so at least she didn't have to look at the box of all her hopes and dreams and optimism. Not that that made her feel better. At least Dad took care of calling all of them and explaining that the wedding is off.

It's about a month and a half before people start getting impatient with her moping. Luckily, Iris gets sick right around the same time - vomiting! That means she's really sick, not just more moping! - so that's a good excuse to keep inside and away from everyone.

Play with McSnurtle. At least he doesn't pressure her to move on because "this isn't what Barry would've wanted".

Well, Barry's trapped in the stupid-ass speed force by his own stupid guilt - seriously, Iris has a list of alternative ways they could've satisfied the Speed Force's need for a speedster without having to give up Barry, because she totally hasn't been obsessing over this or anything - so Barry's sort of lost his right to have a say.

There's a knock at her door.

"Go away, Dad!" Iris shouts.

"It's, uh, it's not your dad," a muffled female voice says.

Iris frowns. She doesn't have that many female friends - never did, sad to say - so she's not immediately sure who it is.

She goes over to the door, wonders for a minute if whoever it is outside is going to judge her because she's wearing Barry's old college t-shirt and a pair of his STAR Labs sweats, figures the answer is yes, accepts it, and pulls open the door anyway.

She blinks.

"Caitlin?" she asks. "Or, uh, is it Killer Frost right now?"

"Caitlin is fine," the now white-haired woman says wryly. "I see you're handling what happened better than I handled Ronnie dying. Both times."

Iris hesitates. It's true, Caitlin does know what she's going through. That being said - "I'm not really in the mood for sympathy."

"I'm not here to offer it," Caitlin says. "I'm here to take you to your doctor's appointment."

"My...?"

"By your own report, you've been vomiting on a daily basis for two weeks straight. As a doctor: you are now way past time to see a doctor. Now, we either go to your GP for a walk in, or I kidnap you and take you to my lair to test you anyway. Since I am still a doctor myself."

Iris cracks a smile. "Is your lair STAR Labs?"

"Everything there is still set up for me," Caitlin says, not denying it.

"I'll call my doctor," Iris says. She doesn't want to go to STAR Labs. "She takes walk-ins."

She had time for Iris, miracles of miracles.

Iris wishes she'd taken the time to shower but, honestly, putting on real clothing was about as much effort as she was willing to put into this. Caitlin hadn't commented.

She had refused to leave, which - seriously? Iris isn't going to go out of a window to avoid having to have regular human interactions. Probably.

...not now, anyway.

"So, doc, what's the news?" Iris jokes. "Am I dying?"

She almost means it.

"Nothing like that, Iris," her doctor says warmly. "Just a bad bout of morning sickness."

Iris freezes. "Of...what?"

Dr. Hansen looks sympathetically at her. "Oh, I’m sorry! I didn't realize you didn’t know. Congratulations, Ms. West; you're pregnant."

Pregnant? But -

Barry.

"Oh god," Iris says, and goes to throw up.

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

"This sucks," Mick says.

"You're the one who wanted to live in a post-apocalyptic wasteland," Len points out snippily.

Mick thinks about objecting - Len needs to let 2046 go already! Mick's gotten over the Oculus! ...mostly! - but then Len blasts a few more aliens and Mick decides to let it go. Len's tired, he's tired. Len's always like order more than he did, and there's not much of that to be found now.

It's the end of the world.

No, really. The Dominators fleeing with their tails between their legs had apparently drawn the attention of the whatever-the-fuck these things were called, and this time, they'd been smart about it.

They went for the heroes first.

Of course, Barry was gone, so Central City was defended by a combination of Cisco - Mick refuses to call him Vibe, especially since Lisa had made that terrible joke about it - and Kid Flash, but they weren't Barry.

They'd never be Barry, and they knew it.

When the aliens came, they were careful to attack a whole bunch of places all at once, all places the heroes cared about, so that there wouldn't be enough time for a team-up. Without Barry to hold it together, any team-up probably wouldn't have worked, anyway.

They got to most of Team Arrow first, luring them onto a spaceship and then portalling it to the other end of the goddamn galaxy. As far as Mick had heard, those guys weren't dead, but they weren't getting home anytime soon, either. At least they'd been with their families when they'd detoured onto that ship - they'd been right in the middle of getting them out of the refugee camps the government had unwisely started forming.

Queen and Felicity were all that were left behind, and they're still standing, last Mick heard. They have a check-in every fortnight with them just to be sure.

Central City, with its metahumans, wasn't anywhere as lucky. The aliens timed their attack well - they'd invaded relentlessly, again and again and again, goading them, then waited until Team Flash got desperate. Team Flash had developed a habit of visit Earth-2 (apparently Kid Flash was dating the Flash of that Earth, which seemed weird, but also the Harrison Wells of that Earth served as their mentor so honestly Mick wasn't gonna ask), and they'd fallen back on the same habit when they decided to go seek help and a safe place to let some of their heroes rest.

That'd been what the aliens had been waiting for, the assholes. They detonate an EMP over STAR Labs just as the going group was jumping, disabling Cisco's universe-hopping device, and then they'd snapped Cisco up into one of those goddamn pods before he could make his way through.

Long-term stasis units, they were called. Fucking bullshit, that's what Mick thinks of them. They zap you unconscious and drag you to one of the pod farms, and then you're just lying there all Matrix-like, not aging, not moving, just asleep. Frozen in time.

But with no universe-hopper and no Cisco, there was no way for Team Flash to make it home. Joe West, Wally West, some other woman, even Caitlin Snow - all gone.

Only Iris West and Julian Albert had been left behind, and neither of them had powers. They'd teamed up with another CSI - some girl named Patty who used to be a cop - but there was only so much that they could do, these last few months.

The aliens were hunting them, too. Any association with Team Flash was as good as a target. They'd gotten Patty a week or so back, and Mick was pretty sure the other two weren't much longer for the world.

Which left Central City under the dubious protection of -

Well.

Him and Len.

Len was Central City's son, born and bred, and he was her foremost supervillain now that Grodd had been banished. The aliens hadn't counted for him in their plans.

Mostly because he'd been spending some time dead at the time they'd made their plans, but hey, what can you do?

(Len likes to tell people it was for tax reasons. Mick likes to hit Len whenever he says that.)

It'd ended up being to Mick's benefit, at any rate; when the aliens ambushed the Waverider, breaking the time drive and stranding them all god-knows-when, Mick was already back on land, nursing a still time-confused Len back to health. Len had gotten over his little brush with death - he'd only come back because they'd screwed up the timeline to such a horrific extent with that spear thing, but he was back and that's what's important to Mick - and now he was back with a vengeance.

A vengeance currently fixated on the aliens that had ruined large portions of his city.

Mick always said he'd give everything to Len, in the end, and he did: he dug up his old ship, with the Kronos armor, and though the time drive there was shot too - decay rather than sabotage, but either way still useless - it was still useful in launching a hell of an effective surprise attack on the bastards from space.

Mick also picked up some tips on armor from Haircut during their time on the Waverider, putting together weapons and cloaks and all sorts of shit you can use growing and shrinking and blaster tech for.

Len took a different approach. He gathered every metahuman still in Central - villain and civilian and confused - and he whipped them into a defense force under his control.

Well.

His and Lisa's.

The Rogues had been designed to be villains, but in the absence of real heroes, they ended up being hero substitutes instead.

Hell, the Rogues had been so goddamn successful that Lisa had ended up branching out, splitting off her own hand-selected group of Rogues and going to Gotham to recruit the villains there into their own version of a defense force. Len hadn't wanted to see her go, of course, but she'd insisted...

"Hey, Mick, you hear that?"

Mick pauses in where he's melting an alien which is probably (definitely) already dead by now, clicking his gun to silence.

Nothing at first, then, very distantly –

Crying.

"Someone's in trouble," Mick says.

"Let's go," Len says. "Unless you're getting low on charge..."

"Nah, I'm good. Ever since we got the dwarf star, the recharge times have been excellent, even if it does make the gun heavy as fuck."

"Good. Let's go."

The aliens are centering around a cute little daycare. There's a car which shows the typical signs of alien attack, so whoever had gone out to get groceries - Mick can see them spilled out on the ground - was almost certainly already pod-bound even as they approached.

The crying was coming from the daycare.

Shit, kids. Len hates it when aliens go after kids.

"Can we get them?" Len asks, trying to come off as dispassionate, coldly analytical as his nickname suggests, but Mick knows Len. His whole brain is bent on trying to figure out how they could save the kids - not at the expense of their lives, which Len knew were too valuable to Central to lose, but certainly with less of a margin for risk than usual.

Mick studies the situation. "Think so," he says, because he does. "Your call, boss."

"Let's move in. I'll go point, take center; you come in later."

Mick nods. They'd figured out the best way to hit these assholes long ago: the reason their plans were so good in advance is because they had their sharpest minds back on their homeworld planning it. The drones they sent to Earth, on the other hand, were shit at dealing with the unexpected.

Which is to say, dealing with Len at all, really.

Even against regular non-armed humans, they'd found the best way was for one human to establish a pattern of attack (like, throwing things) and when the aliens had adjusted to that attack, a second person attacks from a different direction using a different method (stabbing, shooting, whatever). The aliens are momentarily paralyzed trying to recalibrate their expectations, leaving a window of time when the humans can successfully attack or run away.

Mick and Len have been teaching a lot of self-defense classes at the underground refugee camp.

It's not actually underground, to be fair; it was just connected by radio and maintained-with-great-difficulty-and-sacrifice Internet into a living network instead of gathering up in person. The aliens used actual refugee camps as targets - too many humans in one place was practically asking for an attack. So they did the rounds, instead, meeting in short bursts and living off correspondence. But it's still living, which is better than not-living.

Len moves in with his cold gun.

The aliens he hits first die. The rest balk their wings (terrible buzzing creatures, like flies who couldn't achieve lift) and adopt a defensive formation, weakest drones out in front to act as a living shield against Len's ice while the stronger ones harden their shells against the cold.

Of course, a hard shell means that temperatures that go too high will cook them from the inside out.

Mick hoists his own gun and waits for the signal.

Len gives it, and in he goes.

There are more aliens than he'd anticipated, more than usual for these sort of pod runs, but about halfway through the fight Len and Mick swap guns and that confuses the aliens yet again. No one expects Captain Cold to be wielding flame.

Mick ends up having to bring out his Kronos pulse rifle to finish them off, which is a surprise; it's been a while since there have been so many gathered in one spot.

"Big family or important target?" Mick asks Len, who snorts.

"No more important targets left," he replies. "Let's go."

Inside, there are kids.

But not a huge amount, no; there are only two. Not even toddlers, not really - they're something like a year and a half, max. Maybe two, if Mick's being generous. And they're all alone.

"Shit," Mick says, already wracking his brain to see if he can find anyone who wants babies. The foster families are filled to the brim; the underground network is stretched thin...

Len kneels next to the kids. One boy, one girl. "Hey," he says gently, like he's talking to Lisa way back when she was young. "No more aliens, kids. Just me and Mick."

Mick's not expecting it to work - the kids are too young to really understand what Len's saying, and the calm tone he's using will eventually take some time to sooth them - but somehow it does. They calm down and reach out their chubby little arms to Len.

People who think Len's cold-hearted have never seen how quick he melts.

"Hey," Len says gently. "Where's your mom?"

They sniffle. "Momma back?" one asks hopefully. At least, that's what Mick thinks she's asking, it's a little slurred with tears.

Mick thinks of the car outside. "Doubt it."

Len glares at him. "What about your dad?"

"Daddy's gone." That sounded rehearsed, or at least an echo of something said regularly enough by a loving adult for the kids to repeat as well.

"Mick?" Len asks, but he's already put away the cold gun and is gathering them into his arms.

"I'm thinking!" Mick says. "There's a couple of options..." He shakes his head. "No one immediate. We'll have to cover for a few days while I get in contact with people."

Len nods. "My name's Len," he tells them. "You can call me Lenny, if you like. What’s your names?"

Oh, crap, they're at Lenny status already? Damnit Len, you can't get attached to all of them...

"Dawn," the girl says proudly.

"Don," the boy says, equally proud. "I'm a Don."

"Nice to meet you both," Len says gently, and Mick already knows what's going to happen.

Sure enough, by the time - about three days - that Mick finds someone to take the kids in, Len's in love.

Worse, Mick's got a case of the same.

"We can't keep 'em," he tells Len.

"We definitely can't," Len agrees. "C'mon, Duckie, open up for the airplane..."

Don - now proudly nicknamed Duckie, under the assumption that Don is short for Donald - pouts and turns his face away.

Len sighs dramatically. "Oh, well," he says. "Guess I'll have to eat this myself."

"No!" Duckie yells. "Mine!"

"Fine. Then you eat it."

There's a tug at Mick's pants. He looks down.

Dawn - already fed - looks up at him hopefully. "Dawnie up?" she asks.

"Sure, sunshine," he says, and scoops her up. Dawn likes to be tall. "You wanna sit on my shoulders?"

"Yeah!"

Onto the shoulders she goes.

Dawn imperiously waves at Duckie, making him demand that Len lift him as well.

"We can't," Mick says again, but it's weaker.

"You sure?" Len asks.

Mick sighs.

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

It's not that Len and Mick don't try to find the kids' original family. They do! If there was family, even if they're all dead, they'd want to know so they could honor their traditions or some such like that. Len is a stickler for that, talking grimly about the non-consensual adoption of Jewish kids after the Holocaust by converting Christians and how he ain't ever gonna be a party to that sort of shit.

Mick's got fewer personal connections to the issue, but he agrees.

Unfortunately, the daycare has nothing to tell them who lived there or who was using it. Their files were burnt, their walls were scrubbed, everything. The car is equally useless, since the obvious evidence of shoddy hotwiring makes it clear that it was stolen.

Asking Dawnie or Duckie is equally useless. It's not their fault, they're not even three; they happily tell them about Momma (mostly that they want her back and how she made things better), and Daddy (gone), and Paw-Paw (gone away as opposed to just gone), and Auntie C and Uncle C.

Auntie C had cold hands and Uncle C always has the best toys, but they also went “away”.

Not that unusual a story, honestly, but not very helpful.

Honestly, at this point, all they can guess at this point is that, given their light brown skin tone, at least one of their parents was black, possibly both. Dawnie is darker than Duckie, but her hair is straight and fine while his shows distinct signs of kinks and curls as it grows out.

Honestly, they're not even all too sure about that much. Neither of them were ever all that good at identifying ethnicities.

Whatever. The kids are the kids, and that's good enough.

They do eventually find out their middle names, via Duckie’s excellent memory of the fact that their Mommy used to be a first-and-middle name person when she was angry.

Well, okay, he doesn't actually explain that. He just waggles his finger at a misbehaving Dawnie and says in excellent adult mimicry "Dawn Eleonora, stop!"

Duckie's middle name (Henry) takes a bit longer to figure out, but they extract it with patience.

"I can't believe you finally cracked and got kids," Lisa gushes over the phone. "Tell 'em Auntie Lisa is coming to visit!"

"We're not their parents, we're just -" Len starts, but she's already hung up.

Hurricane Lisa shows up a few weeks later - transit from Gotham to Central isn't that easy any more - and that's the moment Mick really considers to be the start of their family.

Lisa's always been the best communicator in the Snart family. The kids love her.

She asks them what names they want to call Len and Mick, since they're going to be their new parents now. Len assures them that Uncle is fine for both of them, but the kids never really had a Daddy before (because their Daddy's gone) and they are delighted by the idea of having more.

"I refuse to be Dad or Daddy," Len says stiffly. "I won't take that away from their original Dad."

Lisa and Mick share a knowing glance, fully aware that it isn't the real reason and the real reason is the man Len called dad right up until the day he died even though he'd long since lost the right to it.

"I called my dad 'Pa' most of the time I knew him," Mick offers helplessly.

"What about what's the word," Lisa says. "From your mom's dad. Sabba."

"No, that means grandfather," Len corrects. "Dad is Abba."

"Then be Abba."

"I think I'd rather be Lenny," Len says, nose wrinkled.

It doesn't help him, of course. Duckie and Dawnie pick up on Abba for him like lightning - they still call him Lenny half the time, but he's their Abba, just as Mick is their Pa as often as he is Mick or Mickey.

They boast to the other kids at their new, underground daycare that they have a Momma, a Daddy, an Abba and a Pa, but of course Momma and Daddy weren’t around. The other kids – most of them with adopted parents of their own by – solemnly agree that this is by far superior to the system demonstrated on the films they watch. Those poor kids on the TV with only a Mom and a Dad and no one else; how sad.

Kids.

Mick hadn't expected he'd love the two of them as much as he does. Oh, sure, he'd expected to feed them - he does - and to worry about them - oh, he does - but he hadn't really thought about the way his shoulders would relax every time he hears their voices. The way his chest would glow and swell every time they run to him first. How every goddamn thing they did was the best way to do that thing, because they were wonderful and brilliant children.

His wonderful and brilliant children.

He hadn't expected how Len would melt for them, and stay melted. How Len was terrified of screwing them up and how he never, ever lost his temper with them. How effective and devastating a disappointed look could be, because Len refused to spank them.

(Mick eventually finds out that the kids had picked up on his and Len's tendency to worry about each other and that Len had exploited this ruthlessly, asking them to think about whether their actions would make their Mickey sad before they did them. He curses Len's name and quickly makes up for lost time by suggesting that they pay close attention to Len to see if he also needs love and affection. Len gets covered in snuggles on the regular. He doesn't complain.)

The kids also grow ridiculously fast.

Okay, totally within normal levels for kids their age - the doc swears it's true - but they're people. They're little people.

Mick can't remember when his siblings became people all those years ago. Nate was still a baby, he remembers that much, but the rest of it...

He's very careful to use the fire pit and lighters and other Len-regulated fire sources, and his kids know everything there is to know about fire safety.

Len teaches them how to spot danger and how to avoid it. He also teaches them how to pick locks.

They're the best four-year-old robbers ever, even if Len really had meant for it to be another safety measure. The idea of them being captured by aliens because they couldn't get through a locked door - unacceptable.

"Also, it's good finger coordination development," Len says, lying like a rug. It is, of course, but that’s blatantly not the reason he’s passing on his skills.

There’s still plenty they don’t know about the kids’ lives before Len and Mick found them: for example, Dawnie and Duckie are clearly twins, but they don’t know when their birthday is. As a result, they argue about it at length - sometime early in the year, they think, because of the vague memories of snow. They end up having January 23 for Dawnie and February 7 for Duckie, just because it's easier to give in than to explain that twins are born on the same day.

At any rate, it gives them more time to pick presents now that the kid are old enough to appreciate it.

Mick and Len are just debating the question of gifts - it's May and Mick had unwisely brought up the issue of half-birthdays - when the old Particle Accelerator, an abandoned and mostly destroyed STAR Labs, suddenly goes up in a painfully familiar mushroom cloud of orange light. It doesn't spread the way the first one did, but it does go up like a goddamn firecracker.

"Oh, shit," Len says.

Mick just runs to get a car.

They're the only ones going towards the labs rather than away; Mick sees people ducking into shelters in well-practiced motions.

The Rogues' war against the aliens was doing that much, at least: the aliens avoided Central more than they attacked it, nowadays. They were focused on subduing other parts of the world.

The same protection applied in Gotham, under Lisa and her girlfriend Selina.

The same in Bludhaven, where Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn - previously part of Lisa's Rogues - had set up their own Rogues.

The same in Starling, which had reverted to its old name out of habit, and where Oliver and Felicity had taken their sweet time about accepting the Rogues' offer to help but now considered themselves the leaders of the Starling Rogues instead of Team Arrow, a name they still used to refer to their long-lost teammates.

Mardon hadn't wanted to leave Central at first, but he couldn't resist Len's carefully structured offer to be the leader of the Rogues in the Windy City. Shawna, who'd been from Chicago initially, went with him to keep his ego in check.

Scudder had managed to get over himself enough to agree to work for Len again, his fear of the aliens managing to break through even his narcissism. After half a year learning how to fight aliens at Len's side, he'd been dispatched to L.A. to teach the self-absorbed assholes there how to really fight an alien movie. He liked Hollywood.

Rosa preferred San Francisco. Len was just happy that there was distance between the two of them - as much as they were still technically together, Rosa's obsession with Sam faded when he wasn't in her sight and she remembered things. Things like having been a first-rate computer engineer, once upon a time, and something of a genius. She did well in San Francisco and the nearby Palo Alto, between its tech industry and its loopier residents.

People were starting to figure out that where there were Rogues, there could be a city again.

Mick wonders, again, if he should inform Len that he'd become a general, but as always decides against it. Len thinks of the Rogues as his crew, albeit a crew that has scattered across the nation and each of whom is leading their own hand-crafted militia unit in the protection of their territory.

No need to trouble Len with politics. It's not like they had anyone strong enough to actually do more than hold back the aliens for a while.

At least, they didn't until they got to the center of the Accelerator, where they found a very confused-looking Barry Allen rubbing his eyes and shouting, "Guys? I'm back! Guys? Is anyone here?"

"Holy crap," Mick says.

Len is somewhat more fluent than that. He always did have a facility for Yiddish curses (Mick particularly likes the one that goes 'may you be as a lamp - so that you can be hung during the day and lit on fire every night!', all in about three or four harsh-voweled words.).

"What now, boss?" Mick asks.

"Now," Len says, smiling like he can't stop, "now we have hope."

"Snart?" Barry asks when he sees them approach. "Rory? What are you doing here? What happened to this place?" He gestures at the ruined room.

"You've been gone five years," Len says. "It's been an interesting time. Let me tell you all about it..."

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

"I can't believe it," Barry says, looking shell-shocked, his fingers clenched around a mug of hot chocolate. Len had broken out the good stuff for their guest, which is to say, the Swiss Miss with mini marshmallows. "Five years - and so much has changed -"

"The emotion you're looking for is 'I go away for five years and you assholes trash the place'," Len informs him.

Dawnie giggles. "You said a bad word."

"There are no bad words," Len tells her. "Only bad men."

"Not what Mrs. Levy says..."

"See, that's one thing," Barry says. "You guys have kids! Small adorable kids!"

"We're not small," Duckie says. "We're four."

"Paragons of age and maturity," Mick agrees solemnly.

Barry chuckles, but it still sounds strained and tense.

"Can you still time travel?" Mick asks, curious, thinking of the lost Waverider, still stuck who-knows-when.

"No. Well, a little. Not enough to help."

"What do you mean?"

"Speed force said I was abusing it and took it away," Barry explains. "Even though I tried not to mess up the timeline -"

"Let me get the sequence of this right," Len drawls. "You get told by everyone not to change time. You do it. Everything gets fucked up. You do it again. More fucked up. Speed force shows up personally, says don't do it. You do it anyway. Speedforce comes and gives you an ass-kicking, saying don't do it. And you do it again, but this time you're trying not to mess up the timeline. And you're surprised it yanked your cord?"

Barry makes a face. "Yeah. I've gotten the lecture."

"I'm not comfortable with how we're anthropomorphizing forces of nature," Mick grumbles.

"You think this is a problem, try being in the middle of a three-way argument between Death, Dream and Destiny about whether or not the way your life ended was narratively satisfying," Len grumbles back.

Barry looks a question at Mick, who shakes his head. He doesn't have any answers. He doesn't even want to have questions.

"So my friends..?" Barry asks instead.

"Like we said," Len says, easily distracted away from disturbing subjects. "Most of 'em are fine, just stuck on Earth-2. The only way to get 'em back is Cisco -"

"Who's stuck in the matrix?"

"Matrix-like stasis pod," Len says. "Good news is, you pop 'em open, people inside should be fine. Probably not even notice that time passed."

"And the bad news?"

"There's a shitload of pods, and we've got no idea which one your boy's in," Len says frankly. "Or your girl, neither."

"Why didn't Iris go to Earth-2 with the others?"

"No clue," Len tells him honestly. "Not like they really told us much. Cisco was hit first, yeah. West held up pretty well for a long time, but we were allies, not buddies. She was secretive. Ran a radio program. But a few years back, it cut off."

"She might be dead," Mick warns.

"She's not," Barry says firmly. Not the slightest trace of doubt.

"Speed force tell you that?" Mick asks skeptically.

Barry grins crookedly. "Actually, yes," he says. "It said I could save her if I took it slow."

"What does that even mean?" Mick demands.

"It means we're gonna save the world again," Len says, pretending to be put out about it. "One pod-break at a time."

"Do you know how to get into them?" Barry asks.

"Sure, but the risk's too high," Len says. "Unless, of course, I have a speedster on my side."

Barry swallows and sits up straighter, like he's making a decisions. "In that case, consider me one of your Rogues."

Judging by the delighted look on Len's face, his apocalypse has been made.

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

There's a giggle and a thump and then more giggling.

Len has become a veteran child-raiser in the last two years, if he does say so himself, which is why he puts down the blueprints and heads over to the living room where the giggling is coming from.

Barry is sprawled out on his back on the Twister board, grinning helplessly as the twins crow at him.

"I see you're hard at work," Len says dryly.

Barry beams at him. "They said you and Mick refused to play it with them," he says earnestly. "What was I supposed to do, not teach them?"

"Like you couldn't not teach them the Macarena and the Chicken Dance?"

"Hey, you made me an honorary uncle when I moved in," Barry points out with some justice. Len hadn't been sure how else to explain 'magnet for trouble so I need to keep an eye on him' to the kids after years of refusing to cohabitate with any other family. "Part of that involves teaching them stuff that will drive you nuts."

"Not while you live here, I think. The true terror is Lisa."

Barry nods so fast that he's blurring, undoubtedly remembering when Lisa had managed to dig up some Tickle Me Elmo dolls for the kids' fourth birthday. Len had nearly strangled her - it was a rare item nowadays, so she'd clearly put time and effort into finding them, but it was also designed to drive Len, Mick and now Barry absolutely insane.

"You are menaces, you know," Len informs the twins.

"Like Dennis!" Dawn says excitedly. "Dennis the menace."

"Pa and Abba are pretty good menaces, too," Duckie says loyally.

"I'm not a good menace?" Barry pretends to pout.

"No! You're a hero!" Duckie proclaims. He’s maintained that ever since he found a Flash action figure.

Dawnie gives Barry a hug. "That's almost as good," she assures him with her nearly-a-five-year-old-really solemnity.

Barry laughs and hugs back. "Now," he says, making a big show of checking his watch. "I think you promised me that if I showed you how to play Twister..."

The twins giggle and run away from whatever chore they promised. Barry doesn't give chase, just watches them fondly.

"You're good at this," Len tells him.

"I'm a little jealous," Barry admits. "I've always wanted kids."

"You and Iris...?"

"Oh, no," Barry says. "We were only just getting married. Do you know what Joe would do to me if she'd gotten pregnant? Shotgun wedding doesn't even begin to describe it."

Len frowns. "But if you were getting married already..?"

"Doesn't mean Joe wants to think about us having sex," Barry says dryly. "At least if we were married, he could imagine that we conceived by magic or something."

Len shakes his head. He doesn't understand, but then again, he hadn't ever really expected to have kids.

"You're good with them," he says again.

"They're good kids," Barry agrees. "I hope that if Iris and I ever do have kids, they'd turn out like that." He thinks about it for a second. "Maybe slightly less larcenous."

"That's all good parenting," Len says proudly. "Now c'mon, I want you to see the plans."

Barry nods and is standing by Len's side before the words fade away. "What's the next step, now that we've cleaned out Central City?"

"Figuring out a way to consolidate our gains - installing those shield-makers Felicity reverse-programmed from alien ship tech, for one thing. I want Central City to live like a community again, not just refugees."

Barry nods.

"Also," Len says, "I think it's time to go north."

"North?"

"The largest single pod housing facility in the Midwest is located in the Dakotas," Len says. "We break that, we're talking tens of thousands of people. Possibly hundreds."

"Crap," Barry says, blinking. Most of the pod facilities were measured in the dozens or hundreds. "That means transportation. Serious and immediate transportation. That many people all together will definitely catch the attention of the local patrol ship."

Len stays silent.

"Unless that's the goal," Barry says.

"Mick's in Starling getting a crash course in alien tech," Len tells him. "Between Felicity's deductions and his own knowledge of piloting from his time with the Time Masters, I think we can do it."

"Are you planning on stealing an alien ship?" Barry demands, half-horrified and half-impressed. Mostly impressed.

Len smirks. "I told you, Scarlet. I intend for Central City to be free. The shields will help. Having our own gun-ship? That'll help more."

Barry nods. "And the people -"

"If we can defend them in the ships, we can do a slower transport. Cars, trucks, buses, the works."

"It's going to be massive."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Barry says. "We're opening pods, which means we could be finding Cisco and Iris. I'm totally in. I'm just saying, it's going to be massive. Who's gonna watch the kids?"

"Mrs. Levy's agreed. Her husband was podded, too."

Barry nods. "Slow and steady," he says. It's been his mantra when it comes to dealing with the frustration that there isn't a single bad guy he can punch to make things better. "Let's save the world."

"Let's steal an alien ship," Len corrects him. "Stop making me sound heroic."

"Oh, no," Barry says, voice dry as dust. "Heroic? You? Never."

"Shut up."

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

"I don't want to sit this one out," Barry says stubbornly, but he's already given in, Mick can tell. More to the point, Mick can tell that Len can tell.

It's in the way Barry’s already started to make mac-and-cheese for the kids.

(They'd all been delighted to discover that certain farm-to-pre-made-food had been so automated that re-starting them was a cinch even after the apocalypse, but none more than the kids.)

"Uncle Barry!" Duckie shouts from the next room over. "We wanna piggy-back ride!"

"When the food is cooking," Barry automatically calls back, then scowls as he reveals his intention to be there in a few minutes. "Len, if you're sure -"

"You know we can do it without you," Len says reasonably. "And you know they're expecting you."

Barry sighs and nods. The aliens had immediately pegged Barry as the leader of the resistance once he had made its reappearance, presumably based on their snooping through old files, and they'd taken measures against him that Len was avidly noting down for future speedster problems (Barry seemed to attract future speedsters like flies, before - undoubtedly he would again; besides, what if he got around to having kids?)

The calculators behind the alien army, back on their homeworld, had made assumptions about Barry and Barry's inability to sit a mission he led out.

The calculators still had no conception of how to deal with Len. It helps to have all of your records eliminated, hard and soft copy both, so that the aliens look at you and see some asshole who got rung up on a single manslaughter count (murder in the heat of passion had been the final charge, and wasn't that hilarious?) who was assumed dead less than six months later.

They don't see Len.

And that's the way Len likes it, thank you very much.

Even without that well-timed deletion, though, Mick could've told them that none of them would ever have been enough to predict Len.

Mick has enough trouble doing it, even after all these years. That's why he only gets it then, and waits until they're in the car to actually bring it up.

The car, not the modified alien ship that even now patrols the skies of Central City.

"You think this is the one."

Len glances at him and smirks. "You always did know me best."

Mick nods. Normally, he'd leave it at that, willing to trust in Len, but maybe having two kids has made him a bit more open to actually talking about stuff out loud. "The reason this pod storage expects the Flash to hit it is 'cause that's where they've hidden his girlfriend."

"It was always too well guarded," Len murmurs. "I knew they had to have some valuable people there. It's not until a gap in their security opened up - a very specific gap, best exploited by a speedster - that I realized it was their idea of a trap. And to bait a trap..."

"Why not just fake us out?"

"Aliens," Len says. "Calculators for brain. They understand subtlety in attacking, sometimes, but not subterfuge. This trap is a step forward for them."

Mick nods. "Did you tell him?"

Len shakes his head. "I might be wrong," he offers.

"You don't think you are," Mick corrects. "You think Barry won't be able to resist the obvious trap."

Len shrugs, conceding it. Barry's been working with them for eight months, by now - long enough to celebrate the kids' fifth birthday with them as a much-beloved uncle - and Len usually trusts Barry to listen to the plan.

But, Mick supposes, this is Iris West. She always did make Barry irrational.

"You think maybe Cisco as well?"

Len is silent for a moment.

Mick glances at him sidelong.

"I don't have any reason to think so," he says slowly. "And yet - I hope he is. There haven't been any transfers out of this facility. But he'll be as hidden as Iris is prominent."

Mick nods. "Then we'll look twice as hard," he says, knowing they'll be working on a very limited time frame.

Len smirks. "Oh, you bet we will."

Mick thinks about the extra surprises he packed into his gear this time, the ones not even Len knows about, and wonders if today is the day he'll get to play with them.

Turns out it is.

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

"Oh, God, Iris!"

"Barry?" Iris gasps, her knees buckling, but Barry is there to catch her.

There's gasping and hugging and kissing.

Mick edges back.

Len studies the wall pointedly.

"Forgot how awkward these reunions are," Mick mutters to Len. They hate public displays of emotion.

"Don't remind me," Len says through gritted teeth. "Lisa's taking care of Cisco's, uh, reunion."

Mick snorts. "When's Ms. Levy dropping off the kids?"

"Soon enough. Figured Barry ought to be alone for this."

"Figured the kids didn't need to be getting the wrong idea about being all touchy feely, you mean."

"Or getting an advanced education in human reproduction. Besides, I was thinking we could have Cisco knock open the door to Earth-2, stat, before the aliens figure out how to stop us."

"Good plan."

"Told Lisa," Len says. "I figure they'll be opening the door pretty soon now."

There's a gasp from where Barry and Iris are intertwined.

Len and Mick look over.

Barry's sitting down, looking dazed, like Iris got in a good punch. More likely she said something, Mick supposes. Maybe she got a new boyfriend in the two and a half years he was gone before she also got disappeared?

It's been nearly four years since then, too. The staggered aging of the pod-freed humans and their free counterparts was one of the weirdest elements of the whole apocalypse.

"I'm so sorry," Barry says to Iris, who has sunk down next to him and is clutching his hand. No new boyfriend, then. "God, Iris - if I'd known - if I'd had any idea -"

"I didn't either," she tells him. "I had no clue until a month or two after you'd gone - and then - oh, Bear. I thought I'd lost you forever. I thought it was all I'd ever have of you."

"Of course," Barry says, wrapping his free hand around hers. "I'm so sorry I left you at all - if I'd been here -"

"If you'd been here, the aliens would've adjusted their plans to attack you first," Len says dryly.

They blink at him, clearly having forgotten anyone else was in the room.

Mick's just happy they decided to go with 'shocking revelations' instead of 'joyous reunion sex'.

"Cisco's free, too," Len tells the two of them. "We found him in a hidden chamber."

"Cisco," Iris breathes. "Oh, god, Cisco! Barry - that means he can go to Earth-2 -"

"He'll be able to get Joe and Wally and the others -"

One of Cisco's holes in reality open up in the middle of the room.

Mick hasn't seen them live before, but it's a welcome sight regardless, especially when Cisco and a second speedster stumble out first, quickly followed by Detective West and a handful of others: Killer Frost, a guy that looks like Harrison Wells, a girl dressed similarly enough to the speedsters for Mick to hope that they've now got three speedsters for the aliens to contend with.

He glances at Len, who's smirking his ass off in a way that signifies real pleasure and anticipation.

"You think..?"

"The aliens went for "em first deliberately," Len replies in an undertone, understanding Mick's unvoiced question. "Their calculators-for-brains know that the odds are against them if we've got the full set of speedsters."

Mick nods, pleased. It's well past time for the world to rid itself of the alien scourge so that they can go back to having regular communities and not having to depend on a group of radical net-neutrality activists to man the various ISPs in the area so that everyone else could cooperate using the Internet.

Joe goes straight for Iris and Barry, shouting their names.

Mick sighs.

More reunions. Great.

If only the house were big enough for them to leave...

There are tears. So many tears.

Barry keeps saying, "If I'd only known -" and getting shushed.

Eventually Len runs out of patience (thank god) and says, "As touching as this is, we're starting to get near capacity. Maybe we ought to stop with the hugging and get with the planning?"

"We're nowhere near capacity yet," Barry says. "We have at least room for -" A quick count. "- uh, okay, only ten more. But that’s still something!"

"Capacity?" Joe asks.

"The aliens attack places where humans cluster in too-large numbers," Barry explains. “Well, they try, anyway. It’s a reasonable precaution not to cluster too large.”

"So that's why Snart and his buddy are here," Joe says, nodding. "You're working together against the aliens."

Mick doesn't like how that implies that Barry would otherwise pick literally any group of people other than them if they weren't useful, but he supposes if you've not been around for the last few years, you couldn't be expected to understand. Communal living is the way people survive, now.

"Iris," Joe continues. "What about..?"

"I was captured by a pod," she says, her voice breaking. “I looked through all the pods when I was rescued – they weren’t there –”

Joe’s face is ashen, grieved.

“What were you looking for?” Mick asks.

“My babies,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes.

“You let Barry reproduce?” Len asks, sounding appalled.

Everyone glares at him.

“They might not be dead,” Mick offers into the silence. “Aliens usually ignore kids if they’re on their own – not a large enough heat signature – and there’ve been really good networks for recycling lost kids into the community.”

“Recycling’s not the word,” Barry says, correction made more out of habitual bickering than actual attempt to correct Mick. “But you think – there might be a chance?”

“It’s always possible,” Len says. “Even if we do track 'em down, though, will you recognize even 'em? It’s been three years, and babies grow fast.”

“I’m their mother.”

“Three years,” Len says implacably. “Kids. Trust me, I’ve got two of my own.”

“Who let you reproduce?” Joe asks with a bit of a sneer.

“They’re adopted,” Barry says quickly while Wally elbows Joe, likely more because of the way Len’s hand moved to sit on his gun. “And very happy. Good kids. Ms. Levy have them?”

“She’ll be dropping ‘em off soon.” Len tilts his head to the side a second before Mick hears the sound of the door opening. “Make that, dropping ‘em off now.”

“Abba!” Dawnie shouts. “Pa! We drew pictures today!”

Mick mentally canvasses how much fridge space they have left. They may need to start overlapping…

Dawnie and Duckie skitter into the room, big grins on their faces, sticky hands clenched around artwork made in crayon, and Mick watches in amusement as the amount of tension in the room relaxes as everyone smiles helplessly at the adorable kids.

Then it all goes to shit, because Dawnie’s smile fades into something nervous and wary and wanting and she stares at Iris and squeaks, “…Momma?”

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

It started, of course, with a lot of yelling in surprise and "holy crap!" and re-introductions and hugging.

Then, of course, came the recriminations.

"Why is my grandson think he's named after a duck?" Joe demands. He's a bit sore because the kids only had the vaguest recollections of their Paw-Paw.

"His name was Donald," Mick says defensively. The nickname had been his. "How were we supposed to know?"

"He was already nicknamed Don," Joe snaps. "Just like my dad."

"I'm amazed they didn't kill them," Wally mutters to girl speedster.

"You saying I hurt kids?" Len snarls at him. "Or just that I'm incompetent?"

"I didn't mean -"

"I bet."

"I'm just saying," Wally says, starting to get annoyed. "You're supervillains -"

"And you were gone, hero."

"That's not Wally's fault," Cisco exclaims.

"Oh, yeah, he's just saying – just like I'm just saying -"

"Why is everyone fighting?" Duckie asks in a small voice.

Mick puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles as loud as he can. Given that he's been using his whistles to silence entire stadiums, it's pretty effective in such a small space.

Everyone shuts up.

"It doesn't matter," Mick says. "We can fight about the details once the kids are asleep."

The Earth-2 people look at him like he kicked a puppy by admitting that they were going to keep fighting. Dawnie and Duckie (and, amusingly, Barry) all relax because this is something familiar. Len and Mick always schedule their fights for after the kids are asleep, explaining to the kids that it helped them get out their annoyance in a reasonable fashion; as a result, the kids have gotten used to thinking of fights that can be rescheduled as no big deal. No need to worry until you wake up in the morning - if the fight is still ongoing at that point, then you know it's serious.

"Let's go have dinner instead," Barry says. "We can talk over that."

"I can make Grandma West's noodles," Joe agrees.

"Not in my kitchen, you ain't," Mick says, because he's got a reputation as a kitchen tyrant to uphold. Neither Barry nor Len can cook, and if he gives an inch now, they'll be back to eating uncooked pasta. In the interests of avoiding another fight, though... "Maybe another time."

They all go to the kitchen. Mick ends up serving out a few cooked chickens he'd been freezing with plans to use over the next few weeks in different preparations, but chicken enchiladas are good for a crowd.

Most of the conversation is fixed on safe subjects, like goings-on on Earth-2 (alien free and a little boring, but for the gorillas) or the kids' achievements.

"They're even doing above their grade level in math," Barry boasts. He's selling the kids hard, but in fairness to Barry, he always does that. It doesn't feel personal.

"That part definitely came from Iris," Joe jokes. "I remember your math scores, Bear."

Mick personally thinks it came from the hours of tutoring Len put in with the kids, but - he reminds himself - they're trying not to fight.

"Kids, dishes or no dessert," he says.

The kids leap to their feet and start collecting plates. There's no dishwasher - or spare electricity to run one - so they'll be in the kitchen extra-long washing plates this time.

"Aww, let 'em have a day off," Wally says, winking at them. "Not every day they get their whole family back."

"If they don't wash the plates, they'll become unusable," Len says, pointedly ignoring Wally’s phrasing. "Humid climate like this, we'll get mold right quick. Rules are rules for a reason."

He waves the kids off.

"Strict," Joe comments. It doesn't sound like a compliment, though it doesn't necessarily sound like an insult, either. He chuckles, his mind clearly shifting directions. "Bet things'll be different when they go back home. Be careful not to give them culture shock, Iris."

"Home?" Len echoes. It's good he does, because Mick was going to speak and the wording wasn't going to be intelligible. "Not sure if your skills have deteriorated in the last few years, Detective, but they're home now."

"I just meant when they go home with Barry and Iris," Joe says.

He doesn't even mean anything by it, that's the most infuriating part of it; he just says it like it's a fact.

Mick sees red anyway.

"Now listen here, you little -" he starts, but Len's hand snaps out and catches Mick's wrist in an iron grip, signaling silence.

"Mick," Len says calmly. "Don't overreact."

"Overreact?”

"Yes. What's happened here is clear." He smirks. "Detective West has gone senile."

"I what?" Joe exclaims. “I have not –”

"You've lost your fucking mind," Mick says. "If you think anyone is taking the kids away from us."

"I just meant -"

"You'd think as an adopted father himself, he'd have more sympathy," Len says. "Unfortunately not."

"Excuse me if I don't want a pair of supervillains anywhere near my grandkids -," Joe says.

"They're our kids, asshole," Mick says.

"And we're grateful you took care of them for a bit while we were gone, but now Barry's here and Iris' here and I'm here, even Wally's here, and we're obviously more fit to raise them, that isn't even in question -"

"Dad, maybe we should wait -" Iris starts to say soothingly.

"No, Iris, I don't think this can wait. I don't see why there's even any debate about this. They're kids. They need a good, loving, stable and safe home environment, and we'll be able to provide that."

"And we won't?" Len says dangerously.

Joe snorts. "No offense meant, Snart, but you're hardly a good role model, and I can't imagine you know anything about raising kids to be anything other than a pack of criminals. Which isn't happening, in case I wasn't clear about that up front."

"Ain’t really your decision."

"No, it's Barry and Iris', as their parents," Joe says like he's speaking to an idiot. Barry and Iris look uncomfortable. "And they will obviously want to take Don and Dawn -"

"We're not going anywhere!" Dawnie yells from the doorway.

Mick immediately twists in his seat to look at them. Their faces are red and they're clearly upset, clutching at each other for comfort.

"We don't want to go away," Duckie adds, his lower lip trembling so hard he's nearly stuttering. "We wanna stay with Pa and Abba -"

"Don, my little guy," Joe says, standing and moving towards them, "you don't understand - you'll be going back to your Daddy and your Momma and your Paw-Paw -"

"We wanna stay with Pa and Abba," Dawnie says, starting to cry, Duckie right beside her. "We wanna stay! We don't wanna go with you! We hate you!"

Joe takes another step forward, clearly intent on convincing them. Mick gets up in his chair, equally intent on punching him in the face - Len is getting up, hand on his gun, face murderous -

"We're not going anywhere!" Dawnie says, and she grabs Duckie's hand and they turn -

There's a crackle of lightning and they're gone.

Everyone blinks.

"Barry!" Joe exclaims. "Bring them back this instant!"

"Uh," Barry says. "I didn't do that."

"Another speedster?" Cisco exclaims.

"I think," Iris says very carefully, "another two, actually."

"Whatever," Len says, clearly done with all of this; the revelation about the kids isn’t even making a dent in his rage. Mick sympathizes. "I don't care. Now stay down here while Mick and I go fix the damage you just did."

The kids are curled up in bed, just like they were taught to go when they’re angry.

Good.

Len and Mick spend three hours getting the now-vibrating-fast-enough-to-hurt children to calm down, explaining that they're not going to be taken away. Eventually, with the help of multiple assurances, a few more comfort animals than they're usually allowed, and a bedtime story or four, they fall asleep.

Then Len comes downstairs, Mick right beside him, and says "Barry, get Detective West the hell out of my house. Take him to Ms. Levy's place and tell them to send a signal to the next train transport - I want him out of Central City by the end of the week."

"You can't do that!" Joe shouts, whatever efforts to calm him swiftly evaporating. “Listen here, you little –”

"Joe," Barry interrupts. "You don’t understand. He can."

"What?"

"He's the head of the Rogues," Barry says. "They protect the city. If he says you're out, then you're out, and you're lucky to be out alive."

"You'd never let that happen."

"No, but - damnit, Joe, he's my boss now! And a good friend! His kids call me uncle!"

"Your kids, Bear, not his kids -"

"His kids! Their kids! Joe, they've raised them for three years; that's more than Iris and certainly more than me. They're the only parents Duckie and Dawnie remember. We're not taking them away."

"Iris -"

"I agree with Barry, Dad," Iris says. She shakes her head a little. "Dad, if Mom had shown up when I was ten or twelve and decided she was taking me away, I'd have thrown a fit about leaving you, and rightfully so. If we have a big fight about this, they're going to pick them, not us, and then next thing you know I'm not going to get to see them anymore and that's just not acceptable. I lost three years of their lives. I'm not missing another day."

Joe is silent, for once. He doesn't agree, Mick can tell that much from the way he's scowling, but he's silent. Good enough.

"West can stay," Mick says, and Len glances at him. "Kids ought to have a chance to know him. One chance. If he acts up in any way, I'll burn him."

He means it, too.

"Won't that be more traumatic?" Wally asks, crossing his arms.

"I'll say he was an alien spy masquerading as their grandpa," Mick shoots back. "They'll be cool with it."

Joe bristles, but Iris glares him silent.

"Let's at least try to make this work," Barry says.

He always was an optimist.

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

To say that this wasn't the life Iris was expecting is something of an understatement.

She'd planned a life with Barry by her side having adventures as a journalist, maybe a kid or two down the line to be taken care of at home. Maybe by her, maybe by Barry, maybe by Joe if he'd retired - maybe even with a nice babysitter helping them out.

Then Barry went away into the Speed Force - for good, she'd thought - and she was pregnant and then she had a new life in front of her: single motherhood, with help from Dad and Wally and her friends, of the two most amazing (and infuriating) babies of all time.

And then the aliens came for them, and her support system disappeared, and she'd thought of herself as a grim Sarah Conner, the prototypical mother figure, determined to survive and to keep her children alive until they could push the aliens back.

Then - nothing.

The sleep of the pod was like sleeping in bed, deep and dreamless as far as she recalls. Like a coma, maybe. Like Barry's descriptions of his own coma, at least.

And now -

Now, Iris has a life with Barry by her side having adventures as the captain of her own alien warship, and she still hopes to have a kid or two down the line to take care of at home when the aliens are gone. But she's also a part-time Momma to the two best kid-speedsters in the world - Cisco calls them the Tornado Twins - and she co-parents them with Barry and his supervillains.

One of whom is the widely acknowledged commander-in-chief of the United States, leader of the real fight against the aliens and to whose offshoot Rogue branches the armed forces have swarmed to pledge their allegiance - not that he knows it, since Mick still refuses to tell Len that the people he's commanding aren't just surprisingly competent criminals - and the other one is the guy who makes sure said commander remains functional. Iris wouldn't have believed that Len thinks ketchup is a legitimate vegetable if she hadn't walked into that argument herself, but she did, so she guesses that if Len has inadvertently become leader of the free world, that makes Mick his First Arsonist or something, and they're all very lucky to have him, too.

They all live together, with Barry and Iris having one master bedroom and Len and Mick sharing the other, and the kids have the entire downstairs to run around in. The downstairs is a disaster zone as a result, of course.

It's okay; Iris spends quite a bit of her time captaining the newly dubbed (by utterly unanimous agreement) Enterprise and supporting Barry from the air. It's awesome.

Wally's slipped happily into the role of Kid Flash and cool uncle, and even Joe has come around.

It's not the life she imagined, but it's a good life. She likes this life.

She leans back in her captain's chair. "Show them in," she orders, and watches as a handful of strange-looking aliens and one human, all dressed in shiny green suits, walk in. Iris smiles. "Welcome to the Enterprise, representatives of - how did you call it - the Green Lantern Corps. Let's talk about what exactly it is you think you can do for Earth - and whether we're going to agree to any of it."

[wbwest]

New Post has been published on WilliamBruceWest.com

New Post has been published on http://www.williambrucewest.com/2017/07/07/west-week-ever-pop-culture-review-7717/

West Week Ever: Pop Culture In Review - 7/7/17

I took last week off, but I hope y’all had a great 4th of July weekend. Life’s still kinda kicking my ass, so this’ll be an abridged edition this week.

I finally got around to watching a movie! It’s been on my list since I first heard it was in pre-production, and I’m amazed it took me this long to watch it, considering my love for the source material. The Founder stars Michael Keaton as Ray Kroc, the “founder” of McDonald’s who really just stole the concept from the McDonald Brothers. A down-on-his-luck shake machine salesman, Kroc happens upon the fledgling McDonald’s restaurant in Southern California. Knowing a good thing when he saw it, he pretty much insisted on becoming a part of the operation, mainly focused on franchising the business. And that’s when things get interesting. I LOVE McDonald’s. You can hate me all you want, but like Jim Gaffigan says, “Everyone has their own McDonald’s”. Mine just happens to be the actual company. I don’t know enough about the history of the company to know how factual an account the movie was, but it was sure damn entertaining. Keaton is amazing in it, and I feel like anyone would enjoy the movie even if they think they don’t give a rat’s ass about McDonald’s as a company. I highly recommend this film.

We finally got our first trailer for Marvel’s Inhumans, and now I realize why they were so hesitant to release it. MY GOD THIS LOOKS TERRIBLE! It looks like Into The Badlands – a show that I hate because people fawn over it when it looks like something that would’ve aired after Xena on Saturday afternoons 20 year ago. Yeah, I even told one of the Badlands creators that when he confronted me over my “appraisal” on Twitter. Badlands is a bad show, but it gets “diversity points”, so folks give it a pass. This show doesn’t even get diversity right, so it’s really just a shitshow in the making. I hate hate HATE that this is considered an official part of the MCU, even if it’s just a part of the never-referenced TV wing. Anyway, this trainwreck debuts in IMAX on September 1st, but will officially air on ABC beginning September 22nd.

Speaking of diversity points, CBS lost all of theirs when they let the Asians go from Hawaii Five-O last weekend. Daniel Dae Kim and Grace Park both left the show after salary negotiations broke down as they requested pay equal to their costars. I’ve never seen more than 15 minutes of that show, but I know the dude from Lost seemed pretty important to things. He was basically the White guys’ interpreter to all things native. CBS has claimed that they offered them sizable increases, which weren’t deemed acceptable to Park and Kim. Now the Five-O showrunner, Peter Lenkov, is now joining the side of the network, saying that CBS made “generous offers” to the stars, yet they decided not to renew their contracts.

This has turned into a discussion of race in Hollywood and how things still aren’t equal across the board. I’m a big fan of billing. Billing is important, and should go to the most well-known star. It’s the reason all the ’89 Batman posters say “Jack Nicholson” first. Dude was a bigger star. Now, I didn’t watch Lost and I didn’t watch Battlestar Galactica, but I still recognize Kim and Park from those shows. Maybe it’s just because I’m a geek and folks were always talking about those shows. The show’s star, Alex O’Loughlin? I can’t name a thing he’s been in. Don’t know that dude from Adam. And the other lead? James Caan’s kid? Whatever. Y’all mean you couldn’t pony up the cash to keep Lost Dude and Battlestar Girl? We’re not talking about big names here so, unless there was a favored nations clause where O’Loughlin would have to get a raise if they got raises, thereby thwarting the whole “equality” thing, I don’t see what the problem was. As has been pointed out, all O’Loughlin and Caan had to do was stand in solidarity with their costars and this would’ve been a non-issue. Word on the street it O’Loughlin is quitting at the end of the season anyway, so it’s not like we’re talking another 5 years here. He couldn’t keep his ego in check for a season? Nah, for too many folks, as long as they’ve got theirs, they don’t care if you’ve got yours.

We also got a trailer for Pitch Perfect 3, forcing me to reiterate that NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE A TRILOGY. I know everyone involved likes money, but sometimes there are natural, built-in ends to things. That thing was a 2-movie franchise and that’s it. Don’t forget – I lived that life. I was in the same competition the Bellas won in the first film (we came in 2nd), and I experienced the aca-graduation blues that the girls experienced in the second film. That’s pretty much it. There’s nowhere else to go. I mean, sure there are some random outlier outcomes. One of my groupmates is a hit producer in Asia now. Another is a pretty big pop star in Hong Kong. The rest of us? Dead-end jobs and bills. I used to occasionally do karaoke, but even that got to be too depressing. That shit is fun while it lasts, and then you’ve got to move on. So, in that vein, I can understand the plot of the 3rd movie, with the girls wanting to have one last hurrah, but I don’t really understand the concept of putting them on a USO tour. Is that something the troops wanna see? Has Pentatonix been dropped into the theater of war? It just seems kinda farfetched to me, and I was fine with how things were left in the last movie. Sure, I’ll see it, but it won’t be in a theater.

Things You Might Have Missed This Week

Hide grandma’s wallet – QVC is buying out Home Shopping Network.

After 3 seasons, The Carmichael Show has been canceled by NBC. I really wish someone else would snatch it up, as it’s a smart show

Netflix has renewed Dear, White People for a 2nd season. Meanwhile, they canceled Girlboss after one season. Reed Hastings giveth and he taketh away.

Speaking of Netflix, hearing the cries of fans, Sense8 will officially conclude with a 2-hour finale special

Netflix also renewed one of my favorite original shows, F is For Family, for a 3rd season.

Apparently a series based on the popular Step Up film series, called Step Up: High Water, will premiere on YouTube Red, where absolutely NOBODY is gonna watch it.

Fuller House season 3 will coincidentally premiere on the 30th anniversary of Full House, September 22nd.

Make your vacations weird again, as Cirque du Soleil has purchased Blue Man Group.

Patton Oswalt is engaged to 80s actress Meredith Salenger. Ya know, the same Patton whose wife died last year. I guess we all grieve in our own ways…

Lack of interest brought down The House, which bombed at the box office last weekend. It was reportedly Will Ferrell’s lowest live-action opening for a major studio.

Nick Fury will reportedly be making his MCU return in 2019’s Captain Marvel

HBO is reportedly getting the True Detective band back together, with a 3rd season to star Mahershala Ali

Nixing speculation that she was still up for the White House Press Secretary job, Kimberly Guilfoyle has reupped her contract with Fox News

Rob Lowe and his sons will chase the supernatural in The Lowe Files, and I literally cannot wait.

New game show, Snap Decision, premieres August 7th. Hosted by David Allen Grier, the show breaks precedent because it will debut on GSN and in syndication on the same date.

The world’s leading (and only) bar scientist favorited my tweet this week

We’re gonna do something different here this week. Usually, if you’ve been paying attention to the week’s news, you can at least try to figure out who or what had the best week. Some weeks it’s harder to choose something than others. Then I remembered, “Will, this is YOUR site.” After all, this is all pop culture through my lens, so it’s my rules. So, sometimes I might choose something that meant a lot to me that week, while you were none the wiser. But I bring it up on the site so that we’re all on the same page. And that’s the kind of pick I have this week.

After watching The Founder, I was left thinking, “Michael Keaton is a goddamn national treasure”. After watching Spider-Man: Homecoming last night (yeah, we’ll talk about it next week, when more of y’all have had a chance to see it), I was thinking “Why have we been sleeping on Keaton the past 20 years?” I mean, with the exception of The Other Guys, I honestly hadn’t seen a Michael Keaton movie since probably Batman Returns, and yet Birdman is the one considered his “comeback vehicle”. In The Founder, he really made you feel for a traveling salesman who was at the end of his rope. After a string of laughable failures, he finally found something to which he could hitch his wagon: McDonald’s. And while he also had to prove this to everyone in his sphere of orbit, most importantly he had to prove this to himself. He really needed a win, and Keaton did such a great job conveying that.

In Homecoming, Keaton plays Adrian Toomes, better known as the Vulture (though he’s never called that by name in the film). Not unlike Alfred Molina’s Dr. Octopus, he’s something of a sympathetic villain. Were it not for the fact that comic book franchises deal in the good/bad binary, you could almost relate to him and understand where he’s coming from. He’s a modern-day working class guy who feels ignored by the fat cats up on high. He doesn’t have evil goals. He simply wants to provide for his family, and he has a code of honor that dictates he must do whatever it takes to make good on that promise. I felt that Keaton did a great job expressing the plight of the working man. Sure, he got to utter some cheesy villain dialogue, but that simply comes with the territory. If you stopped for a minute, and ignored the fact that Spider-Man HAS to win, you realize that Toomes is actually kind of on to something. Again, though, I’ll get into more Homecoming thoughts next week.

My pal Chad pretty much swears by Michael Keaton as his favorite actor – a lot of that having to do with his immense love of 1989’s Batman. I’ve gotta say, I was never a huge fan of Keaton’s Batman, and when Chad would laud Keaton’s praises, I wasn’t really seeing it. I see it now, though. I have seen the light and I am healed! Dear Hollywood, more Michael Keaton, please! He pretty much impressed me on two different cinematic fronts this week, and that’s why Michael Keaton had the West Week Ever.

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Chapter 32

Well, this one’s finally done. ANd that’s about all I can really say for it. It has its moments where I think its pretty cute, but other than that it stands as our last real fluff chapter for a while. Because next time around, kids, we’re diving headlong into the angst zone.... ;) 

Previous: http://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/158966244469/universe-falls-chapter-31

Chapter 32: The Golf War

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While it was still relatively early in the day, that didn’t stop Dipper, Steven, and Connie from continuing their Lonely Blade movie marathon from the previous day. While they had watched the first third films in the Japanese action film series at the temple yesterday, today they had taken to the den of the Mystery Shack, the three of them nestled around the recliner with Lion and Waddles resting together close by. The climax of the fourth Lonely Blade film was at its height, and while the entire movie was in Japanese, the kids didn’t have much trouble keeping up with things thanks to the English subtitles.

“It was you!” Lonely Blade exclaimed dramatically, pointing his sword as his opponent. “You were the one who killed my brother, cursing me to fight alone forever!”

“Oh, Lonely Blade, you so lonely,” Steven remarked sympathetically.

“I think that’s kind of the point, Steven,” Connie said with a soft chuckle.

“You think you can defeat me?!” Lonely Blade’s nemesis asked challengingly. “The President of the Shadow Samurai Government?!”

“What?!” the young Gem gasped, sitting up. “The janitor is the evil samurai president?! That’s bananas!”

“Seriously? That’s the big twist?” Dipper asked incredulously, not impressed. “It was totally obvious! He’s been mopping the floor in the background of literally every fight scene.”

“Yeah, and he’s even on the cover of the box,” Connie pointed out, holding said box up. “If they had really wanted to write in a good twist, then they should have made the delivery guy the president instead!”

“Oh man, exactly!” Dipper exclaimed. “Considering how unassuming and nice that guy was, it would have been way smarter for them to make him the villain! That would have been a much better twist ending, if you ask me.”

“That’s what I’m saying! It’s thematically resonant with the rest of the movie, plus it would have created much better suspense!”

“Hm… I don’t see it…” Steven frowned, their analysis going right over his head.

Still, before either Dipper or Connie could go into detail, Stan interrupted, stepping into the den with a full pan in hand. “Who wants Stan-cakes?” he asked, nodding to the breakfast he had just made. “They’re like pancakes, but they probably have some of my hair in them.” Of course, despite this rare offer for free food from the conman, the kids were all quick to turn him down.

“Pass.”

“…No, thank you.”

“I’m…. I’m good.”

“Eh, more for me.” Stan shrugged with a grin. However, he didn’t have much of a chance to sit down and enjoy his pancakes before the shack’s door burst open and Mabel rushed in with a very excited squeal.

“It’s here!” she proclaimed brightly, holding up a newspaper as she ran around the den. “It’s here! It’s here! It’s here! I’ve been waiting all morning and it’s finally here!”

“What’s here?” Connie asked curiously.

“This is!” Mabel waved the paper she was holding around. “The Gravity Falls Gossiper accepted my article about summer fashion tips for squirrels! My picture is gonna be in the newspaper!”

“Whoa! Mabel, that’s so awesome!” Steven exclaimed in amazement. “You know, me and the Gems were in the paper one time, and so was the temple! But… only for an article about the most dangerous places in Gravity Falls that people should probably stay away from…”

A bout of awkward silence passed at this, though Stan broke through it a moment or two later. “So, let’s see that article, kiddo,” he said, sending Mabel a surprisingly encouraging grin.

“Check it!” she exclaimed proudly, holding the front page out for everyone to see while the conman read it aloud.

“Pacifica Northwest declares V-neck the look of the season,” Stan read, only for his grin to instantly fade into confusion. “What am I looking at here?”

“Whoa, whoa, what?!” Mabel gasped, looking at the paper herself to find that her article of squirrel fashions was nowhere to be found. Instead, the front page had been commandeered by an article by Pacifica, as well as a large, flashy photo of the heiress herself.

“Looks like someone bought their way to the front page,” Dipper remarked with apt distain for Pacifica, especially seeing how distressed Mabel was as she looked over the article.

“I’m surprised she doesn’t do that every day, considering how hard it is for her to stay out of the limelight for even a minute,” Connie scoffed just as crossly.

“Is it legal for a child to wear that much makeup?” Stan asked, a hint of contempt in his tone as well.

“Ugh! Pacifica!” Mabel growled, throwing the paper down onto the floor in frustration. “She always ruins everything!”

“Aw, I’m sorry about your article, Mabel,” Steven said with sincerity. “But look at the bright side! You can always share your squirrel fashion tips with all of us!”

“Yeah, and besides,” Dipper interjected supportively. “Who even reads newspapers anymore anyway?”

“Dudes!” Soos exclaimed as he walked into the room, holding a copy of the paper. “V-neck season is upon us! Who wants to help me get ahead of the fashion curve? I’m taking it one step further… With a W-neck!” The handyman paused as he drew a W onto the collar of his shirt before haphazardly attempting to cut along it with a pair of scissors. “Must… follow… newspaper…”

“Well… that was some bad timing…” Connie noted with a frown.

“Oh, come on!” Mabel groaned in loud frustration as she stormed over to the table, pouring herself a glass of orange juice and downing it all in one gulp. “Ugh, I need something to get my mind off of this.”

Before anyone could even suggest something that could cheer her up however, the television happened to do it for them as it cut to an amazingly appropriate commercial. “Looking for a distraction from your horrible life?”

“Why, yes!” Mabel perked up, looking to the TV with immediate interest.

“Victory! Honor! Destiny! Heroism! Valor! Mutton!” the commercial boldly proclaimed. “These old-timey words are alive and well at the Gravity Falls Royal Discount Put Hut! *No mutton available at the snack shop*.”

“There you go, Mabel! You love mini-golf!” Dipper exclaimed, grabbing his sister’s scrapbook off the nearby table to show the others. Sure enough, it featured a picture of a nine-year old Mabel taking home a gold medal in a minor league mini-golf tournament. “She’s been amazing at it since we were kids! What do you say, Mabel? We’ve had a stressful couple of days. How about we take a break, huh?”

“Great idea, Dipper!” Steven readily agreed. “Mini-golf is so much fun! There’s castles, and windmills, and having to outrun security after Amethyst jumps into the moat so she can collect all the lost golf balls and eat them all! It’s the best!”

“Well, everything but that last part is fun, at least,” Connie shrugged. “But still, Mabel, a few rounds of mini-golf would be a great for you to get your mind off of—y-you know what.”

“So what do ya say, pumpkin?” Stan asked with a warm grin. “Would kicking all our butts at mini-golf cheer you up?”

“Maybe a little…” Mabel said quietly, tugging gently on her hair while pouting.

“Come on, Mabel!” Dipper encouraged as he jumped to his feet. “Victory!”

At this, Mabel couldn’t really hold her usual zeal back as she brightly picked up where her brother had left off. “Honor!”

“Destiny!” Stan proclaimed, also caught up in the moment.

“Heroism!” Connie jumped in brazenly.

“Valor!” Steven declared with a huge grin.

“Mutton!” Soos finished as his W-neck inadvertently flopped down.

Seeing as how the excitement was infections, the entire group launched into a unified cheer as they began to head out, pumping their fists in the air in anticipation over their mini-golf adventure. “Victory! Honor! Destiny! Heroism! Valor! Mutton! Victory! Honor! Destiny! Heroism! Valor! Mutton!”

“And the pig and the lion can look after the house!” Soos exclaimed before shutting the door behind him, leaving Waddles and Lion to continue lazily napping together as if nothing had happened.

While Gravity Falls was a rather small town, its local miniature golf course was surprisingly large and elaborate. Ye Royal Discount Putt Hutt consisted of the standard 18 holes, each hosting a different decorative theme, from a pirate ship, to the Eiffel tower, to mines, to a large windmill, to its central medieval castle. Business was certainly booming as several groups played through the course, including the Pines and the Gems as they had just arrived.

Surprisingly enough, it hadn’t been that difficult for Steven to convince the Gems to come along, seeing as how they didn’t really have anything better to do with their free time. Plus, as soon as they heard that it was for the sake of helping Mabel feel better, they couldn’t really say no. And so, even though they really didn’t understand the rules of the game that well, the trio was still along for the ride as the group came up to the first hole.

“Ahh, mini-golf!” Mabel grinned as she took in a deep breath, already feeling much more content now that she amidst her old pastime. “The sport of mini-champions!”

“The grass is fake, but the fun is real,” Dipper added, leaning against his golf club. “There’s something here for everyone!”

“So when do we get to the part where we start beating each other with these weird sticks?” Amethyst asked, swinging her club around as the group prepared to take on hole 1.

“Amethyst, that’s… not how you play mini-golf,” Connie said with a concerned frown. “Though I’m pretty sure that is a good way to get arrested…”

“Oh come on,” the purple Gem groaned. “First I can’t throw cannonballs into the pool and now I can’t hit people with sticks? Human stuff is so lame!”

“Hey, Garnet,” Stan smirked in apt amusement upon seeing the overtly colorful plaid pants the Gem leader happened to be wearing. “Nice pants. Where’d you get them from? Some old Scotsman’s garage sale?”

“They’re my dad’s actually,” Steven spoke up. “I found them while looking through his old golf clubs. They’re a little big on me, so I gave them to Garnet so she can wear them!”

“And I think I pull them off well enough,” Garnet remarked assuredly. “By the way, Stan, nice slippers.” She smirked as she nodded to the conman’s choice of footwear, which, sure enough, happened to be a pair of bedroom slippers, despite the fact that they were out in public.

“Hey! I’ll have you know it takes a lot of effort for a man my age to put actual shoes on!” Stan protested hotly. “Plus, these just so happen to be really comfortable slippers, so I see no problem wearing them out and about every now and then.”

“Hey could you guys maybe keep it down a little?” Dipper asked as he prepared to take his first swing. ��I’m trying to focus here.” Turning away from the group, he did just that, taking the time to carefully line up the shot, only for his swing to end up missing the ball entirely. However, this did end up sending the ball teetering to the right, or rather, into the nearby shallow pond.

“Oh, excellent shot, Dipper!” Pearl applauded with a genuine smile.

“Uh, Pearl? I was supposed to hit it into the hole,” Dipper pointed out with slight confusion as to the white Gem’s excitement.

“Wait, really?” Pearl frowned. “Well then clearly I misunderstood the point of this game…”

“Don’t worry, bro!” Mabel encouraged, pulling a dinosaur sticker out of her vast collection and slapping it onto Dipper’s cheek. “You’re still ‘ext-roar-dinary’!”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Dipper concluded with a sigh, moving out of the way to allow his sister to take her turn.

Mabel stepped up onto the green with apt confidence, making sure to grip her club just right as she positioned her aim seamlessly. “Ok, do the hip wiggle and—yah!” Despite her apparent finesse in preparing her shot, Mabel simply whacked it, watching expectantly as it glided through the course without hitting so much as a single snag. The others were all aptly amazed as the ball rounded its way to the hole, slightly missing it, though fortunately it bounced off of McGucket’s nose as the old man napped on the green before landing its way in. “Yes!” Mabel cheered over her hole in one as the others applauded, clearly impressed.

“Holy smokes!” Stan gasped with a surprised smile. “Someone in our family actually has talent!”

“Grunkle Stan, you ain’t seen nothing yet!” Dipper remarked, knowing full well just how much of a shark his sister was at mini-golf.

“That was incredible, Mabel!” Steven exclaimed with a smile. “No wonder you’re such a pro at Golf Quest Mini! You’ve got the real world skills to back it up!”

“It’s all in the hips, Steven,” Mabel shrugged, even if she was quite proud over her success. “All in the hips.”

“Mm, I’d argue and say it’s a bit in the shoulders too,” Connie noted as she stepped up to take her turn. Her approach was far different from Mabel’s however, as instead of hitting the ball hard, her stroke was gentle and precise, though still enough to send the ball careening through the green and past any obstacles in its way. In the end, the ball squarely landed in the hole, much to the group’s collective surprise. “Oh nice!” Connie exclaimed with a grin. “Looks like I still got it.”

“Whoa! Looks like we got two mini-golf masters on our hands!” Soos quipped, grinning at the girls.

“Indeed! How did you get so skilled at this game, Connie?” Pearl asked curiously.

“My parents enrolled me in mini-golf camp a few summers ago,” Connie explained. “I’m probably a little rusty after all these years, but I can remember most of what they taught us.”

“Mini-golf camp?” Dipper asked with a good natured chuckle. “Yeesh, Connie, what extra-curricular activity haven’t your parents made you do?”

“Eh, they mean well,” Connie also laughed. “They say all this stuff is supposed to help make me a ‘well-rounded individual’, but mostly I think its help bolster my college resume someday.”

“Well still, it’s good to finally have some friendly competition,” Mabel remarked, grinning at Connie. “It gets boring always beating Dipper by so many strokes on every hole!”

“Hey!” Dipper protested as Steven let out a small laugh.

“Well, I guess this will be a good chance for us both to put our skills to the test,” Connie smiled as she exchanged a sportsmanly handshake with Mabel. “Good luck, Mabel.”

“Same to you, Connie!” Mabel exclaimed brightly, though Amethyst was quick to interject into the friendly exchange.

“So now do we get to hit each other with these things?” she asked, holding her club up as the girls looked to her in confusion. “Yes? No? Later? Probably later, right? Yeah, probably later.”

Since their group was so large, it took a while for everyone to get through each hole of the course, but even so, fun was certainly being had. Throughout most of the game, Mabel and Connie were neck and neck, scoring mostly holes-in-one, with a few rare flukes every now and then. Of course, the others lagged far behind their skill, to the point that none of them could hope to come close, which meant they were all competing for third place. Despite his best efforts, Dipper inadvertently ended up sending most of his shots into sand traps or tight corners, while the majority of Steven’s shots ended up landing outside of each course altogether. Soos’ score was already ranking far above par for each hole, and Stan clearly wasn’t putting much effort into his swings, seeing as how they would often miss the hole by a longshot. Even the Gems weren’t faring much better, with Garnet sending more than a few balls hurdling towards the sky, Pearl coming up with complex, albeit non-functional formulas to try and land her shots just right, and Amethyst trying to eat her ball at nearly every hole.

By the time they had made it to the 18th hole, the dreaded Dutch windmill, Mabel and Connie were essentially tied for first place, with a very narrow margin existing between their scores. By their show of skill alone, the girls had already amassed a large crowd of patrons to watch their tense, yet friendly competition, and everyone waited on anxious, baited breaths to see who would come out on top. And indeed, it certainly seemed like either one of them could. Connie had already taken her shot, one that landed mere inches away from the hole, much to her disappointment. Mabel was set to go next, and already she was focusing all of her efforts into making this the perfect shot as everyone watched on in eager anticipation.

“Guys, this is amazing!” Dipper exclaimed as he finished tallying up the most recent score. “If Mabel gets one more hole-in-one, she’ll beat her all time high score!”

“But if she misses, then that means Connie could win,” Steven pointed out anxiously. “But I want Mabel to win too! Oh, this is so hard! Why can’t if just be a tie?!”

“I mean, it could be, if she misses,” Connie shrugged, not really bothered by either outcome. “At this point, it could go either way.”

“Or a different way entirely,” Garnet spoke up, adjusting her shades as vaguely as always.

Still, Mabel paid none of this speculation any mind as she lined her putter up to the ball, muttering intently to herself as she did so. “You got this, Mabel. Just pretend the ball is Pacifica’s face!” With that satisfying thought in mind, she finally made her move, whacking the ball and sending it cleanly through the windmill’s tiny opening. It certainly seemed like the ball was going to make it all the way to the hole, but instead, it rolled around its fringe and into the small puddle against the wall, where it unfortunately stopped and stayed. “Aw, nuts!” Mabel shouted angrily, tossing her putter to the ground in a petulant huff.

Upon witnessing this failure, a murmur of dissent rippled through the crowd as it began to steadily disband, only leaving the original group behind. Still, they were all quick to meet Mabel on the other side of the windmill as she morosely went to retrieve her ball. “Garnet, tell me the truth,” Mabel began as they all arrived. “Did you see me missing that shot with your future vision?”

“Mm… I saw it,” Garnet acknowledged gently. “But I didn’t want to throw your game off by telling you about it.”

Mabel let out a loud, exasperated groan at this, but even so, Connie was quick to jump in at an attempt to reassure her. “Don’t feel bad, Mabel. This is a tough hole, even for me.”

“Yeah! Plus that means you guys are tied for first!” Steven quipped with a reassuring smile. “You both won, which in my book, is pretty amazing.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, kid,” Stan remarked, pulling Mabel’s ball out of the water and handing it back to her. “The whole thing’s random anyway.”

“Besides the Bermuda Triangle, how mini-golf works is our world’s greatest mystery,” Soos added.

“Isn’t it just a matter of force and gravity acting upon the ball in a way that propels it forward as friction and curves gradually work against it?” Pearl inquired eloquently.

“Anyway,” Stan said pointedly, ignoring the white Gem as he turned to both Mabel and Connie. “As far as I’m concerned, you two are still better at this than anyone else in Gravity-”

The conman was abruptly cut off as a random ball happened to easily sink into the nearby hole, resulting in a perfect hole in one. Everyone gasped in shock at this, though their shock soon turned to disdain upon seeing who had landed this incredible shot.

“Oh, would you look at that?” Pacifica asked dryly, casually positioning her putter over her shoulder as she sent the Pines and the Gems a snide glance. “I didn’t know if was ‘hobos golf-free’ day!”

“Pacifica!” Connie growled hotly, gripping her golf club in tight anger.

“Oh come on!” Mabel huffed just as bitterly. “First the newspaper, and now this! How many other things can she ruin for me today?!”

The heiress didn’t happen overhear this as she strode over to the group confidently, her parents following not too far behind as they shared their daughter’s conceited demeanor. “Well if it isn’t the Pines family!” Pacifica remarked with faux delight as she launched an insult at each one of them. “Fat,” she pointed to Soos. “Old,” she said, nodding at Stan. “Lame,” she rolled her eyes as she got to Dipper. “And Braces!” she sneered, smirking at Mabel.

“Would it be wrong to punch a child?” Stan muttered, quite incensed as he clenched his fists.

“Maybe for you, but not for me!” Connie replied, already cracking her knuckles in anticipation.

“D-do we really have to resort to violence?” Steven asked with apt concern, though Pacifica was quick to cut in once more.

“Oh, and look who else turned up,” she raised an eyebrow as she turned to Steven, Connie, and the Gems. “Goofball, Glasses, and the Rhinestone Gems!”

“Oh, I’ll show her rhinestones!” Pearl hissed crossly, taking a step forward only for Garnet to stop her.

“Easy,” the Gem leader advised, as calm as ever until the heiress happened to throw a scathing remark her way.

“Nice pants by the way,” Pacifica mocked, pointing to Garnet’s golf pants. “They really go with that whole cringeworthy ‘stuck in the 70s’ look you’re trying to pull off and failing at”

The Gem leader’s expression darkened upon hearing this, and it was instantly clear to see she was anything but amused as her teammates looked to her expectantly. “On second thought…”

“Guys, I got this,” Dipper interjected before turning to the heiress with a smug grin. “Hey, Pacifica, how’s that whole ‘your family being frauds’ thing working out for you?”

“Great, actually!” Pacifica replied triumphantly. “That’s the thing about money. It makes problems go away!”

“Well it can’t buy you skill!” Mabel remarked. “You just walked into the game of two mini-golf champions, right Connie?”

“Right!” Connie readily agreed. “You may have gotten lucky on this hole, but we’d love to see you do half as good on any other whole here.”

“Pfft, ‘luck’ has nothing to do with it,” Pacifica scoffed before snapping her fingers. “Sergei!” At this command, a tall, lanky Russian man stepped forward, toting the heiresses’ golf clubs and other gear as he stood firmly beside her. “This is Sergei, my trainer.”

“The Sportlympics had mini-golf once,” Sergei said, his accent quite thick. “I took gold!” He pulled his shirt open a bit to reveal the large gold medal hanging from his neck, which was indeed for first place in mini-golf.

“Whoa… I wish I was good enough to get a medal in mini-golf,” Steven mused, amazed. His wonder was cut short however, as Amethyst quickly elbowed him as a reminder that they were against Pacifica in this. “Oh, uh, I mean…. I-it’s not that great.”

“Well, trainer or no trainer, Mabel and Connie could still kick your butt at mini-golf any day!” Dipper asserted, sending the heiress a harsh glare.

“Please. Don’t make me laugh,” Pacifica sneered, rolling her eyes as she moved onto the bonus hole, coldly addressing the girls on her way there. “Now, if you two don’t mind moving out of the way of the professionals…” With her usual pointed flare, the heiress stepped up to the hole and effortlessly took her swing, which landed right in the volcanic bonus hole and prompting a momentous explosion of celebration. “Enjoy sharing second place,” she remarked to Mabel and Connie, who had only watched on in severe unified frustration. “Give them a hand, folks!”

As the nearby crowd launched into a patronizing round of applause, neither of the girls were really paying them any mind. After all, they were far too incensed now after hearing Pacifica mock the skill that they were both rather proud of themselves over. “Ok, that’s it!” Connie seethed, gripping her golf club tightly. “Time to knock that dumb smirk right off her ‘perfect’ little face!”

“Yeah! Now we’re talking!” Amethyst cheered, more than ready to put her club to good use.

“Hold it, you guys,” Mabel stopped them before they could go after the heiress. “I have something else in mind… Hey, Pacifica!” she called after her rival as she began to leave. “We challenge you to a rematch!”

“Oh, good idea!” Connie exclaimed with renewed verve as she turned to Pacifica. “Let’s see you put those supposed ‘skills’ of yours to the test!”

“I don’t think either of you wanna go there with me,” Pacifica remarked, still not turning to face them. “After all, isn’t it already embarrassing enough for you being poor and mediocre? Do we really need to have some petty little contest to prove it?”

“Oh, what, are you scared?” Mabel challenged daringly, going on impulse as she launched into a barrage of insults worthy of the spoiled heiress. “You… you walking one-dimensional, bleached-blonde, valley girl stereotype!”

Upon hearing such a verbal thrashing, the entire crowd took in a collective gasp of shock. Still, no one was more surprised or more enraged at this call-out than Pacifica herself as she abruptly spun around to face Mabel and Connie, her expression beyond livid. “Like, let’s do this!” she accepted crossly, flipping her hair for extra emphasis.

Without any further prompting from either side, all three of the girls met at the center of the course, their putters in hand as they prepared to face off. However, before they could even set the rules of their competition, clouds quickly started rolling in through the previously sunny skies above, making it clear that a sporadic summer storm was in the offing. While Mabel, Connie, and Pacifica were more than willing to compete through it, the Mini-Golf King thought otherwise.

“Hear ye! Hear ye!” the course’s owner called, driving up in his gaudy golf cart, which he accidentally happened to drive right into a nearby lamp post. “Ow!” he exclaimed, bumping into the pole several more times before righting his vehicle and continuing. “Stop at once! The park is now closed due to weather! The King of Mini-Golf has spoken!” With his messaged relayed, the Mini-Golf King put his cart in reverse, only for it to ram into another pole and topple onto its side with him still in it. “Ah! The king is down!”

“This isn’t over,” Pacifica declared to her opponents. “You two, me, midnight. We’ll see who’s best!”

“Oh, you bet we will…” Connie scowled as the heiress sauntered off.

“Yeah! We’ll be here!” Mabel exclaimed with heated zeal. All too quickly, the oncoming storm began as lightning flashed in the distance and rain began to drizzle onto the course. The Northwests were more than prepared for it though as they whipped their umbrellas out in perfect unison before heading off, laughing amongst themselves over everything that had just happened as Sergei ran dutifully after them. But even so, Connie and Mabel remained firm in their stance as they watched their shared rival leave, both of them more than eager to beat her at her own game later that evening. That is, until Steven accidentally undermined their show of resolve with his usual friendliness.

“Bye, Pacifica!” he called after the heiress cheerfully. “We’ll see you tonight! It’s gonna be a ton of fun, I’m sure!” The young Gem paused in innocent confusion as he noticed the disgruntled looks that everyone, especially the girls, were giving him at this. “What?”

The Pines and the Gems had settled on waiting out the rain at the local taco joint, allowing them all to get some fast and cheap dinner before the mini-golf faceoff later that night. Well, everyone but Garnet and Pearl, at least, as Amethyst readily shoved her face with the huge load of tacos she had ordered, much to the white Gems’ absolute revulsion and the Gem leader’s usual apathy. Meanwhile, Mabel slumped against the table in something of a depression as she prompted Dipper to fed her nachos at consistent intervals. While she had been confident in her and Connie’s chances against Pacifica back at the golf course, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she wasn’t entirely sure if either of them really could beat her. After all, the heiress had an award winning-trainer on her side, and while Connie might have gone to mini-golf camp, all Mabel really had going for her was her own innate skill, which, if she was completely honest with herself, wasn’t as refined or sharpened as she wished it could be. After all, mini-golf was a fickle game of both dexterity as well as a good touch of luck. And if they ever wanted to win against adept heiress, then certainly they would need more than just a touch of that.

Still, while Mabel had mostly given up hope, Connie was doing anything but as she sat hunched over a small notebook, furiously scribbling notes down on it as Steven looked over her shoulder with apt confusion. “What are you doing?” he finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

“Planning out our strategy,” Connie explained her pragmatic approach, still working fervently all the while. “I figure that if we map out the path and trajectory of each of our shots beforehand, then we’ll be able to anticipate any flukes and work around them beforehand. This always worked for me back at mini-golf camp, so it can’t fail now!”

“What’s the point?” Mabel spoke up with a fretful pout. “Pacifica’s got us as good as beat already. I guess it’s time to scratch mini-golf off my talents list…”

“Aw, don’t give up, Mabel!” Soos encouraged with a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, if you guys beat Pacifica at this, then she can never rag on us again,” Dipper added reassuringly.

“And maybe you guys will get really cool mini-golf medals too!” Steven exclaimed brightly.

“I’m not in this for any medal,” Connie said, her tone rarely cold and harsh as much as it was resolved. “I’m in this because I want to finally put Pacifica in her place.”

“Sounds like as good a motivation as any,” Garnet remarked, crossing her arms.

“I agree,” Pearl nodded pointedly. “That girl is a horrid, vain, spoiled little brat, just like the rest of her family. If you ask me, she deserves far more than just being beaten in a simple game of mini-golf for those callous insults of hers.”

“More, huh?” Amethyst asked, a sly grin already crossing her face. “You know, whenever someone insults or ticks me or Stan off, there’s only one thing that always makes us feel better about it…”

“That’s right,” Stan cut in with an equally mischievous smirk. “And that thing is none other than a good, old-fashioned Revenge Trip.”

“Oh no, you two,” Pearl quickly spoke up in protest as Garnet shook her head. “I don’t care how awful that Northwest girl is! We are not about to indulge in one of your senseless romps of debauchery and depravity!”

“Aw, c’mon, P,” Amethyst groaned. “We’ll keep this lowkey and small, I promise!”

“Yeah, all we’re gonna do is scribble some graffiti on the wall of Northwest manor,” Stan shrugged apathetically. “That’s child play compared to our usual Revenge Trip fare.”

“Seriously, guys, what’s the problem with that?” Dipper asked the two dissenting Gems. “Pearl, you said so yourself: Pacifica has it a long time coming.”

“The problem is that it’s immoral and illegal!” Pearl exclaimed hotly.

“And we’re not doing it,” Garnet said firmly. “That’s final.”

Stan and Amethyst let out a shared sigh of frustrated disappointment as they both sunk in their seats a little. Fortunately though, Steven was quick to lighten with his usual optimism. “Well, I still think you guys can win!” he grinned to Mabel and Connie. “And I’m sure that if you both start thinking that for yourselves, then you really will win! It’s like magic!”

“Or just plain old positive thinking,” Dipper cut in with a small, amused smirk.

“You know what? You guys are right!” Mabel exclaimed, slamming her fist down on the table as her usual zeal returned. “We just need to get in a little more practice before midnight, and we’ll have this in the bag!”

“Oh yeah, practicing would be a great way for me to test out all these shots I have planned out…” Connie mused, looking over her complex notes.

“Go to the golf course after dark, you say?” Stan interjected with a wry grin.

“No one said-” Pearl attempted to say before Amethyst interrupted her.

“Oh man, that would be super dangerous,” the purple Gem remarked callously. “Not to mention ‘illegal’ and ‘immoral’.”

“Yeah, I mean, we’d have to break in…” Stan mused just as innocuously. “Not to mention—just kidding! Let’s break in!”

While Pearl certainly had wanted to object to the idea of sneaking into the golf course after hours, her protests were ultimately shut down as Stan and Amethyst overrode her, leading the charge with cheers of excitement as the conman’s car crashed through the course’s toll gate. As they made it to the empty parking lot, the Gems dismounted from their shared spot on top of the car to see the kids off along with Stan, while Soos kept watch in case any security happened to come by. Putting their breaking and entering skills to good use, Stan and Amethyst made easy work of the fence surrounding the course, allowing the kids easy, yet inconspicuous access inside.

“We’ll be waiting right out here for you kids when you’re done,” Pearl assured with a smile.

“Yeah, unless we actually do end up tagging Northwest Manor,” Amethyst remarked with a shrug. “Which, considering these two buzzkills we probably won’t.”

“Be careful in there, you four,” Garnet made sure to advise. “Oh, and Mabel, Connie, good luck.”

“Thanks, Garnet,” Connie nodded with a sincere smile.

“Oh, and Mabel? One more thing,” Stan spoke up, opening the sticker book his niece had just handed him to hold onto and pulling out one of the countless stickers. This one in particular had a shiny gold trophy on it, as well as the words “U Da Best” featured prominently. With a supportive smile, the conman put the sticker on Mabel’s sweater, sending her a confident wink as she returned it with a warm smile. “Knock her dead, kid.”

Mabel responded with a bold thumbs-up before heading in after Dipper, Steven, and Connie, intent on her mission of improving her skills in the short time they had left. Meanwhile, Stan and the Gems stood somewhat awkwardly outside of the fence after the kids had gone in, an awkward silence that was soon broken by Garnet, especially after she noticed the hopeful glances the conman and the purple Gem were sending her way. “We’re still not going to vandalize the mansion. No matter how many times you ask.”

“Aw…” the pair sighed, disgruntled over how their Revenge Trip ambitions for the evening were apparently not to be.

Mabel and Connie had taken no time at all breezing through the first 17 holes of the course, pretty much all of their shots resulting in effortless holes in one. Still, it was quite clear that the final hole, the windmill, was still proving to be a substantial problem for them both. This was proven once again as Mabel hit yet another ball through the windmill, only for it to end up barely missing the hole on the other side once again.

“Darn!” she shouted in apt frustration. “Poop heck darn!”

“Aw, and you were so close that time, Mabel!” Steven frowned, leaning down to measure the small increment of distance between the ball and the hole. “Only 0.2 inches away!”

“Ugh, that’s not good enough!” Mabel exclaimed with a disappointed huff. “Pacifica’s not going to be 0.2 inches away when she lands the perfect hole-in-one and beats us both while making fun of our fashion senses and proving that she’s way better than us at everything!”

“Hold on a minute, Mabel,” Connie interjected calmly as she stepped up to take her shot. “I think I finally have this one figured out…” With intent focus, she made sure to line up her shot as precisely as possible, angling her putter as she eyed the path she intended her ball to take. “Ok… 30˚ by 70 ˚…. Winds south by southwest… pull back and-” Letting out a deep, concentrated breath, Connie took her swing, watching with anticipation and hope that her well-thought out calculations would serve her well. And at first, it seemed like they would as the ball soared through the windmill, coming out the other end as it made a straight beeline for the hole. Yet in the end, it swerved to the side right at the last second, bouncing into the wall instead and ending up far from the hole. “Seriously?!” Connie asked with an aggravated scoff, putting her putter down. “Ugh, This is impossible!”

“I don’t get it,” Dipper frowned in bewilderment as he walked up to the windmill itself. “What’s wrong with this hole? It’s almost like-” He stopped short as he happened to catch onto a very faint, almost unnoticeable clanking noise coming from inside the structure. “Did you guys hear that?”

“Hear what?” Steven asked as him and the girls approached the windmill.

“Shh!” Dipper quickly cautioned, listening for the mysterious sound once more to ensure that it was indeed there. “Grab your clubs,” he whispered to the others, who were all quick to do so, seeing as how they had no idea what they were about to find. Still, the four of them advanced towards the windmill at a steady, careful pace, their clubs raised and ready for attack. After they all exchanged a round of terse nods, Dipper brazenly stepped up to the windmill, taking in a deep breath as the others raised their clubs even more before quickly pulling the structure’s back panel off. And upon seeing what it had been hiding, the kids were scarcely able to believe what they saw.

An entire city existed inside of the windmill, completely in miniature and decked out in a folksy Dutch motif. Still, the numerous tiny inhabitants of this city were even more bewildering. Also clad in traditional Dutch garb and clogs, they all appeared to be humanoid golf balls, with large, colorful dimpled heads and disproportionately petite bodies. These curious creatures worked within their small scale home merrily, though their usual activity was abruptly halted as they noticed the group of much larger kids hovering over them.

Alarmed by this intrusion, the golf ball race let out a round of terrified screams as they huddled together for safety. Likewise, the kids themselves were aptly startled by this strange discovery as they let out their own respective frightened cries, their putters still raised though they didn’t dare bring them down yet. This exchange of panicked screams continued for quite some time, until the kids collectively realized that these tiny creatures certainly couldn’t pose them any threat, prompting them all to tentatively lower their clubs.

The members of the golf ball race were quick to notice this sign of armistice as they began to calm themselves into silence, even if they remained close together just in case. “We good?” one of the petite people at the front of the group asked kids anxiously. While still incredible confused, they all nodded their assent. “All right then! Hi! Hello!” he greeted brightly. “I’m Franz, and welcome to our home!”

“What is all this?” Dipper asked, looking over the intricate mini-city with relative awe.

“Whatever it is, its adorable!” Steven quipped with a delighted smile. “Seriously, you guys are so cute!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Franz chuckled as several of the other golf ball people blushed at the compliment. “We know.”

“So, what are you guys?” Mabel asked with a frown. “Tiny humans or enormous mini-humans?”

“Neither,” Franz clarified with another laugh. “We’re the Lilliputtians! Lilli—Lilliputt—the name makes more sense written down. But anyway, we control the balls! Behold!”

At this cue, the panel on the side of the windmill flew open, revealing an incredibly complex system of levers and pullies, all of which served the purpose of moving any golf ball that went into the windmill through it. The Lilliputtians operated their machinery with skill, apt timing, and adorable cheerfulness, bright smiles on all their faces as they turned cracks, pressed buttons, and even let the ball bounce off them to help the ball along on its journey. And in the end, the ball shot cleanly out of the other side of the windmill before rolling straight into the hole as the kids all gasped in amazement.

“That’s incredible!” Mabel exclaimed with an awestruck grin.

“And so needlessly complicated,” Dipper added, bemused.

“It all makes perfect sense now!” Connie laughed, flipping through her now completely useless notes. “How could I have ever factored tiny living golf people into my equations? No wonder this hole was giving us such a hard time!”

“Yeah! I guess luck really has nothing to do with mini-golf after all,” Steven shrugged. “Instead, we can owe it all to these guys!”

“Aw shucks,” Franz gushed proudly. “This is only our life-long passion. Would you like us to elaborate through song?”

“Yes!” Steven passionately agreed, always more than happy to hear an upbeat musical number. The Lilliputtians complied as they took in a collective deep breath and prepared to sing their piece.

“Actually,” Dipper quickly interrupted. “We’re good.”

Disappointed just as much as the young Gem was, the Lilliputtians all sighed as they began to disperse, heading back to their various roles and stations within the windmill. “So what are you hugelings doing here anyway?” Franz asked the kids curiously.

“Well, we kinda have to play this mini-golf tournament against our rival, Pacifica,” Mabel explained, though she was quickly cut off before she could say anything else.

The Lilliputtians all gasped and began to mutter amongst themselves, their usually upbeat, cheerful mood souring upon hearing this. “Oh, we know all about rivals…” Franz glowered crossly.

“Put a clog in it, ya windmill-lubbers!” a bold voice called from the other side of the golf course. Startled, the kids turned to see the pirate ship hole suddenly light up, a group of Lilliputtians clad in pirate wear standing atop its deck as they sent hostile glares towards the windmill. “These frilly bottom popinjays are terrible at controllin’ the balls!” the pirate captain exclaimed, drawing his tiny sword. “We are the ball masters, says I! Argh!”

The other pirate Lilliputtians arghed in loud agreement, though their revelry was soon interrupted as the nearby Eiffel Tower lit up next, a group of French Lilliputtians clinging to it with snooty scowls. “Shut your mouths, you show-boating pirates! Everyone knows ze Eiffel Tower hole is ze best!”

“Je ne sais quio! Sacrebleu! Au revoir!” one of the other French Lilliputtians added hotly.

“Stay your comments, ye churlish Frenchmen!” a knight Lilliputtian shouted from atop the castle hole. “None control the balls better than the knights of—Wiener Castle?” he paused, glancing down at the graffiti sprayed onto the castle wall. “Who wrote this?”

“We’ll settle which hole is best!” Franz challenged brazenly as him and his fellow Dutch Lilliputtians rushed forward. “Attack!”

“Ohh, I’m shiverin’ in me timbers!” the captain Lilliputtian mocked as the other pirates began to swing off their ship. “Get them!”

“Long live the mini-king!” the Lilliputtian head knight cried as him and his breather hurried to the fray, their little blades drawn and ready.

The kids could only stand and watch in surprised confusion as the various factions of the Lilliputtians collided in a violent, miniature battle at their feet. From dueling with swords and other blunt objects, to simply fighting first to fist, the small-scale violence that was unfolding was actually quite impressive. None of the golf-ball people held back against their respective foes, landing punches and blows that did sustain real damage and giving the kids quite a bewildering spectacle to behold.

“Yikes….” Connie remarked with a concerned frown. “You know, they never told us something like this would happen back at mini-golf camp. It’s… kinda weird…”

“Are you kidding? These guys are a riot!” Dipper laughed, fully amused by the rather comedic display.

“Aw, but they shouldn’t fight!” Steven exclaimed fretfully. “They’re too cute and small and folksy to be beating each other up like this!”

While Mabel agreed with this, she couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle herself as she decided to address the Lilliputtians in the hopes of quelling their brawl. “Guys, guys! Calm down! Your fighting is inadvertently adorable!”

“Adorable we are, hugeling, but our tale less so,” Franz said, lying on the ground battered and beaten just like the his fellow Lilliputtians. “Every hole in the park thinks they’re superior, from the cowboys in the east, to the grimy miners of the south. If only there was some way to decide which side is the best with maybe, an award… or like a trophy, I dunno.”

“But Franz, look!” another Lilliputtian gasped, pointing up at Mabel’s sweater. Or more specifically, the trophy sticker attached to it.

“The sticker!” Franz exclaimed, jumping to his feet zealously. “The sticker could decide!”

“It does say ‘ze best’ on it!” one of the Frenchmen Lilliputtians proclaimed.

“Decide for us, hugeling!” the head knight Lilliputtian demanded of Mabel. “Choose which mini-kingdom to give the sticker to, and end our war!”

All of the other Lilliputtians let out a unified cheer at this idea, every faction eyeing the sticker enviously as they all wanted to have it bestowed upon them. Still, despite their unanimous excitement, there was something of a discrepancy about it among the kids.

“Uh, I don’t know, you guys…” Mabel frowned, glancing down at her sticker apprehensively. “I’m not sure if we should get involved in your weird mini blood feud.”

“And besides!” Steven interjected with a smile. “You’re all so great that it would be like, impossible to decide!”

Clearly, the Lilliputtians were anything but appeased upon hearing this as they instead sent a cold glare the young Gem’s way. “Yeah… I don’t think that’s gonna cut it for them…” Connie muttered, taking in an apprehensive breath. “In fact, I’m pretty sure only one thing will…”

“Wait, you guys!” Dipper cut in, lowering his voice down to a whisper so the still arguing Lilliputtians couldn’t hear. “This is perfect! These guys control the course. Which means-”

“Which means if we have them on our side, then they can help us win!” Connie interrupted excitedly, having the exact same idea. “Not only could they help us both get perfect scores on every hole, but they could also sabotage every single one of Pacifica’s shots! It’s brilliant!”

“And all we have to do is tell them we’ll give the sticker to whichever group does a better job of helping us win!” Dipper added with a satisfied grin. “It couldn’t get any easier!”

“Mm…. I don’t know how I feel about this plan, you guys…” Steven frowned hesitantly. “I mean, I feel we’d just be taking advantage of these poor little guys if we did that…”

“Oh come on, Steven,” Connie reassured. “They said so themselves, they live for this stuff. Besides, by picking one of these groups for them, then their little war will finally end and maybe they’ll start getting along with each other.”

“Eh, I’m still not sure…” Mabel remarked just as concerned with this plan of action as Steven was. “I wanna beat Pacifica just as much as you do, Connie, but doesn’t this seem like cheating?”

“Pacifica’s rich, Mabel,” Dipper pointed out dryly. “She’s cheating at life.”

“Hm…” Mabel mused, still not entirely convinced. Still, after a little more convincing from both Dipper and Connie, Mabel and Steven both tentatively jumped on board with the idea, even if they were both somewhat anxious about doing so, largely for moral reasons. Still, they kept their worries to themselves as they came to stand before the mass crowd of Lilliputtians, who had temporarily put their feud on hold to hear what the “hugelings” had to say. “People of the eighteen holes!” Mabel called to the golf ball people after Dipper used one of their tiny trumpets to bring them to attention. “We’re gonna have a game of mini-golf! And whoever does the best job helping me and Connie win gets the sticker!”

“So work hard and try your best!” Connie added encouragingly. “You all have the same chances of winning. Of course, special bonus points will be given to the group that ends up embarrassing Pacifica the most, so keep that in mind!”

“It’ll be us, lass! Not these tulip-munchers!” the captain Lilliputtian exclaimed, sending a snide glare Franz’ way.

“I will not be insulted by a man with no depth perception wearing earrings!” the Dutch Lilliputtian seethed hotly.

“Whoa there, you guys!” Steven interjected before another mini-war could break out. “Being mean to each other is no way to get that sticker.”

“Steven’s right,” Mabel nodded firmly. “Just remember, as long as you guys are helping us, no fighting.”

The Lilliputtians’ collective demeanor quickly changed upon hearing this as they all perked up, exchanging broad, convincing smiles with both each other and the kids as a sign that they were going to behave themselves. At least, that’s what their smiles said while they crossed fingers behind their backs told of the exact opposite. But as far as the golf ball race was concerned, the kids didn’t really need to know that. After all, none of that would matter once the best among them was finally decided upon once and for all.

True to their word, Stan, Soos, and the Gems had remained in the otherwise empty parking lot to wait for the kids to return. Since the conman’s car didn’t have a great deal of space in it, the Gems had kept their place sitting on top of it, all of them quite bored as they waited in relative silence. Meanwhile, inside of the vehicle, Soos was hard at work with his scissors, snipping carefully along the dotted line he had drawn onto his tee shirt.

“Dude, I’m cutting W’s into all my shirts,” the handyman remarked to his disinterested boss. “Gotta give the public what they want.”

“Well, those kids sure are taking their time,” Stan mused, glancing out his rear-view window towards the course. “Looks like it’s gonna be a while.” The conman turned the radio onto a relaxing station as Soos took off his shirt to be able to work on its neck easier. With a laid back sigh, Stan reclined his seat back, closing his eyes to take a short nap. Still, before he could, he opened his eyes once again to see Soos, still shirtless, reclined in his seat next to him with a coy smile.

“Sure are a lot of stars out tonight…” the handyman remarked casually.

“Welp, this is getting weird,” Stan quickly concluded, instantly sitting up in his seat to get out of the awkward moment.

Meanwhile, on top of the car, the Gems were still encompassed in their ongoing silence as Garnet meditated and Pearl quietly stargazed. Amethyst, on the other hand, was nowhere near as appeased as she let out a long, exasperated groan. “Ugh, this is so boring, I could shatter!” she flopped down onto her stomach, sprawling out as much as she could considering the limited amount of space. “And to think, we could be smearing paint all over that dumb old mansion’s walls right now…”

“Amethyst, one day you’re going to learn that petty acts of vengeance get you nowhere,” Pearl said rationally.

“Oh yeah? When?” the purple Gem asked sardonically. “Cause it’s totally not today.”

Pearl let out a disgruntled sigh upon hearing this, looking to Garnet to reprimand Amethyst, though the Gem leader as completely silent as she maintained her relaxed, stoic focus. It was around this time that a long white limo pulled up not too far away from the conman’s car, one that clearly belonged to the Northwests based on its elegance and expensiveness alone. And inside of it, Pacifica’s parents were just finishing up imparting their daughter with something of a “pep talk” for her upcoming competition.

“Now just remember, Pacifica,” Preston began authoritatively. “Winning is everything.”

“Oh, and also looks,” Priscilla added as she used a small mirror to help her apply her copious lipstick. “Winning and looks.”

“Dad, relax,” Pacifica assured her father. “I’ve been practicing for like, a million hours, ok? I’ve got this. You’ll stay and watch, right?”

“Pacifica, darling,” Preston scoffed almost patronizingly. “Of course we can’t stay! We have a party to go to. We’ll just read about your victory in the paper tomorrow.”

The heiress frowned somewhat upon hearing this, but even so, she quickly shrugged the disappointment off. She was used to it by now, anyway. “Right,” she said diffidently as she got out of the car. “Sergei!” she snapped her fingers, prompting her trainer to emerge from the trunk of the limo as he grabbed her set of expensive golf clubs.

“Oh, and Pacifica?” Preston called to his daughter through the limo’s open window before she could head inside the course. “Whatever happens just remember one thing. You’re a Northwest. Don’t lose.”

Despite the relative harshness of this command, Pacifica nodded stiffly nonetheless before turning on her heel and making her way towards the course with Sergei trailing behind her. Surprisingly, she didn’t have any more insulting remarks for Stan, Soos, or the Gems as she sauntered past them, but that didn’t mean her parents didn’t.

“Oh, Priscilla, would you look at that?” Preston remarked mockingly, still peeking out the window as he dryly regraded the Gems. “The so called ‘Crystal’ Gems are so poor that they can’t even afford their own vehicle! Instead they have to be taxied around on top of the beaten down old car of some no-account carnival barker!”

“How embarrassing,” Priscilla laughed haughtily as her husband joined in.

While the Gems themselves were quite incensed upon hearing these scathing remarks, no one was more offended than Stan as he gripped the steering wheel of his car tightly. “Did… did he just insult my Diablo?!” he asked, completely appalled. The old vehicle happened to sputter a little at this juncture, prompting Stan to rub the steering wheel with tender affection. “Shh, baby, I know. Who cares what he says? He’s a rich, pompous jerk who deserves a good punch in the face.”

“Tell us about it,” Garnet muttered, her tone genuinely cross and hostile as she was finally broken out of her meditation.

“You know, it’s almost worth an ounce of pity,” Preston said to his wife, still smirking goadingly. “But instead, it’s just hilarious. I almost feel bad that our daughter has to wallow amongst such common filth for even a few hours. The sooner she wins this little competition the better.”

The wealthy couple shared another teasing laugh as the limo began to drive off, leaving the aptly enraged Gems and conman behind. Needless to say they were all infuriated, especially after hearing the Northwests indirectly insult the kids, even over them. Which was why, despite her earlier qualms, Pearl had no qualms about addressing both Stan and Amethyst with a very simple, very pointed question. “So what was that plan you two had about vandalizing their mansion again?”

“Now you’re talkin’!” Stan exclaimed with a daring grin, already throwing his car into reverse.

“Woo!” Amethyst cheered, jumping to her feet, though she fell right back into Garnet’s lap as the conman’s car lurched forward. Still, she hardly cared as she let out a rowdy laugh, one that Stan readily shared as the entire group sped off, their vengeful mission clear. “Revenge Trip! Revenge Trip! Revenge Trip!”

Pacifica strode into the mini-golf course with the upmost confidence, already completely assured over her victory before the game even began. After all, there was no way either Mabel or Connie could hope to beat her. With her well-bought and well-refined skill, the heiress knew that her triumph would only be a matter of a few easy, perfect shots.

“How much you wanna bet they’re no-shows?” Pacifica asked Sergei, only to immediately be proven wrong. The heiress and her trainer quickly spun around as an array of floor lights flashed on in quick succession, leading the way to Mabel, Connie, Dipper, and Steven as they stood already waiting to begin at the first hole.

“Hi!” Steven called, as friendly as always, though Connie was quick to shush him. “Oh, that’s right! I forgot. Serious,” he huffed, forcing his smile away and into a harsh, stoic expression instead.

“Looking for someone?” Mabel asked Pacifica with a knowing smirk.

“Waiting in the dark, not creepy at all,” the heiress rolled her eyes as she approached her rivals.

“We figured we’d get here early since we’re gonna be leaving early to celebrate once we win,” Connie retorted smoothly.

“Oh sure,” Pacifica deadpanned. “Just keep telling yourselves that. Seriously though, I don’t know why you bothered to come. Unless you’ve got something up your sleeves.”

“Oh, I guess you could say we’ve got a little something…” Mabel remarked innocently enough. Their cover was nearly blown however, as a Lilliputtian happened to poke its head out of her sweater sleeve briefly, prompting her to quickly shove it back inside before Pacifica could see. The kids all simply played it off with a nervous laugh, one that the heiress barely regarded as she checked over her nails.

“So are we gonna play mini-golf or what?” Pacifica asked, her tone already quite bored. “Because the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we won’t have to talk to each other anymore.”

“Sounds like as good of a reason as any to get started,” Dipper remarked with a sardonic smirk. Pacifica sent him an aggravated scoff upon hearing her own insult be thrown right back her, but even so, she simply shrugged it off as her, Mabel, and Connie faced off at the center of the course.

“Eighteen holes,” Sergei began, outlining the competition. “Standard rules. Winner lives in glory. Loser wallows in eternal shame. On you mark, get set… mini-golf!”

And on this command, the mini-golf match began. From the first hole alone, Mabel and Connie were able to easily tell that their deal with the Lilliputtians was going to serve them quite nicely. Pacifica’s very first shot ended up being a dud as the cowboy Lilliputtians moved the small covered wagon on the green over a bit so that it blocked the ball’s path, much to the heiress’s shock and frustration. However, the Lilliputtians were quick to oblige by shooting Mabel’s undershoot ball into the hole, and lassoing the ball that Connie shot back into it. As the group moved on, the girls made sure to show their gratitude to the cowboys with shared thumbs up, something that did not go unnoticed by the pirate Lilliputtians on the next hole. Determined to one-up the competition, they shot both of the girl’s shoots easily through the ship’s canons, blasting them both straight into the hole. Appalled by this, Pacifica took her turn, only for the pirates to shoot it right back at her, something that completely bewildered her seeing as how she knew nothing of the miniature people manipulating the entire game behind the scenes. Of course, both Mabel and Connie were reveling over the massive lead they had both gotten over Pacifica even at such an early point in the game. Neither of them cared so much about who one in the end, as long as it was one of them and not the heiress. If they could only see her eat her cold words in light of her agonizing defeat, then it would all be worth it in the end.

The next hole that the group came up to was rather simplistic, set up with a miner aesthetic and only one mere obstacle to overcome. Certainly it would be barely even a challenge for Mabel and Connie with the Lilliputtians on their side. “Heh, miner hole,” Dipper chuckled as him and Steven watched Mabel take her shot. “I wonder what cute, silly things go on down there.”

“I bet they have so much fun singing and using tiny pickaxes to move the ball around,” Steven remarked, beaming as the ball rolled into the mine entry. “I wish we could see it!”

The ball made its usual route down the chute into the mines below as two Lilliputtian miners met its cart and prepared to transport it into the shaft. However, before they could, a prospector Lilliputtian hurried to block their way in. “Stop! You can’t go in there! There’s been a gas leak! Anyone who goes in there will die!”

The miners gasped in fearful shock upon hearing this dreadful news, but their concerned whispers were soon silenced as a large, burly Lilliputtian miner broke through the crowd. “I’ll take it,” he volunteered boldly, yet stoically.

Immediately, a cry of distressed protest rung out from the observing crowd as a small Lilliputtian girl rushed forward, tears in her eyes as she embraced the much larger miner. “No! Don’t go, Big Henry! We need you!”

“Go home, Polly,” Big Henry instructed firmly, gently pushing Polly back towards the others. With a resolve of iron, Big Henry began his journey, pushing the mine cart carrying the ball into the dangerous mine as the others all watched him go in solemn, morose silence. Upon entering the mine, Big Henry was already struggling to breathe amidst the seeping toxic fumes, but even so, he kept going, determined to complete this for the honor of his people.

Of course, the group outside was completely unaware of this as they all awaited the ball to emerge on the other side of the mine. Mabel and Connie took in a shared anxious breath as Pacifica checked her watch, while Dipper and Steven exchanged a confused glance, silently wondering if something had gone wrong down below.

Yet sure enough, Big Henry trudged on steadily, growing weaker and weaker with each passing second to the point that his consciousness was quickly fading. “Come on, Big Henry!” he shouted to himself, slapping himself to stay away. “You can do this!” And sure enough, he did do it. As the miner made it to the end of the seemingly endless shaft, he struggled to push the button that would send the ball back to the surface, but he did it nonetheless, collapsing to the ground in exhaustion shortly thereafter. In his final moments, Big Henry’s eyes filled with tears as he pulled out a picture Polly had drawn for him of the two of them. The simply memento brought a small smile to the dying miner’s face, one that gradually faded as he let out a tired groan before his body went limp. Still, his death was not in vain as the ball rose up from the mine and propelled gracefully into the hole on the other side.

“What?!” Pacifica gasped in angry shock, throwing her putter in a fit of rage as Sergei skillfully caught it. “Sergei! Soda! Now!”

As soon as the heiress and her trainer were gone, Mabel wasted no time in lifting up the mine cover to reveal the anxiously awaiting Lilliputtians inside. “Ok, you guys, that was bedokulous!” she exclaimed with an overjoyed smile.

“Yeah! You guys really know how to build up some great suspense!” Steven added enthusiastically.

“We were worried there for a minute, but you guys really came through,” Connie nodded contentedly. “Great job!”

“Hey, you know what? Little high-fives for everyone!” Dipper offered, lowering his finger down to their level so each of the miners could high-five it in celebration. “Nice one! You did it! You’re the man!”

“I don’t wanna call it out early, but…” Mabel began, smiling broadly. “I think the miners might have one of these in their future!” She pointed to her sticker, which of course sent a round of triumphant cheers throughout the miners, something that the Dutch Lilliputtians were quick to catch onto.

“Are you kidding me?!” Franz exclaimed in frustration after observing this display from the windmill’s small telescope. “After everything we’ve worked for?!”

“Calm yourself, Franz,” another Lilliputtian assured. “There may be another way to win the hugelings’ favor. Knock on wood.” At this, both of them knocked on their clogs before leaping into working on their daring plan to achieve superiority.

Meanwhile, Pacifica sat on the bench near the vending machine with a bitter scowl as Sergei retrieved her a soda. She accepted it with a petulant huff, her foot tapping in frustration as she vented to her trainer. “There’s something going on, Sergei, I can feel it.”

“Maybe they have little people who control where the balls go,” Sergei suggested with a shrug.

“Hoo, we gotta get you English lessons,” Pacifica remarked, raising an eyebrow at the zaniness of that idea. “But seriously, think about it. I’m globally ranked. I’ve won countless awards! It’s ridiculous that those two nobodies are beating me!” The heiress scoffed harshly as she opened her can of soda, completely unaware of the tiny figures darting through the bushes behind her as she took a sip before coughing out its iconic pit. “Ugh, Pitt Cola! I always forget about the pit. Get me a different one, Sergei!”

The trainer went to go do so, leaving Pacifica to seethe by herself. However, she was only made aware that someone else was nearby as a small hand reached out from the shrubs and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. Confused, the heiress slightly turned, only to be tightly grabbed by multiple sets of small hands. She screamed in surprised panic as the hands yanked her into the shrubbery with a surprising amount of force, all before Sergei could make it back. When the trainer did return, he immediately dropped the soda he was holding upon noticing that the heiress had inexplicably gone missing. “This is bad.”

It had taken almost no time at all for Stan, Soos, and the Gems to gather all of the necessary supplies they would need for their miniature Revenge Trip. Armed just a sizable horde of spray paint in the trunk, they hurried to Northwest Manor, with Stan speeding the entire time and Pearl just barely able to hold her tongue about it.

Seeing as how the conman and the purple Gem were Revenge Trip masters, they took the lead in this mission. Knowing that avoiding getting caught was of the upmost importance, the had Garnet take out the nearby security cameras first, which she did skillfully so. From there, the Gem leader continued to keep watch as the vandalism began.

“So…. What exactly are we supposed to be writing with this?” Pearl asked with a confused frown.

“Anything that’ll tick those stuffy Northwests off,” Amethyst shrugged as she began scribbling the words “Rich Prudes” onto the wall.

“Think you can actually come up with something clever, Pearl?” Stan asked with a teasing smirk as he finished his first tag: “Go Northwest to Loser Town”. “Or do you need a little help from the pros?”

“Please,” the white Gem scoffed, aiming her can towards the wall. “I’m sure I can think of something scathing enough to make those Northwests-” Pearl let out a sharp gasp as she accidently sprayed a single line of paint onto the wall, dropping her can as she looked over the minimal vandalism she had done with wide eyes.

“Oh boy…” Stan sighed in slight exasperation as he exchanged a dry frown with Amethyst. “Told you she wasn’t cut out for this.”

“I-I am too cut out for it!” Pearl protested earnestly, reclaiming her can.

“Oh yeah? Then prove it!” Amethyst challenged. “Write the meanest, harshest, craziest thing you can think of on there! Go wild!���

The white Gem paused as she looked between the wall and the paint can in her hands once more as a small, brazen smirk crossed her face. “Go wild, hm?”

“How’s this, Mr. Pines?” Soos interjected as he finished graffitiing his space. Stan overlooked his work, instantly letting out another disgruntled sigh as he did so.

“You’re not supposed to write your name, Soos,” the conman pointed out, nodding to what the handyman wrote: “You dudes are mean, love Soos”. “The point is to not get caught doing this, remember?

“Oh right!” Soos exclaimed innocently, not well versed in the practice of vandalism himself. “Well, I can fix that!” With only a few more lines, the handyman “fixed” his mistake by adding the word “not” in front of his name. “Is that better?”

“Sure, Soos,” Stan said with a small, amused chuckle. “That’ll throw ‘em off, for sure.”

“Alright…. I’d say I’m… done!” Pearl proclaimed with a proud smile before stepping aside so everyone could see her work. Her tag was quite long, but even so, it was impressive, not only in how elegant the writing was, but in the white Gem’s choice of words as well: “Snobbish, self-entitled, greedy, supercilious, upper crust, corrupted, coldhearted, thoughtless, rude, arrogant elitists!”

“Whoa… P! You just thrashed them!” Amethyst gasped with a huge smile.

“You really think so?” Pearl asked. “Are you sure its not overkill?”

“Oh, it’s definitely overkill,” Garnet cut in, glancing over her shoulder at what the white Gem had written. “But in this case, it’s the best kind of overkill.”

“Seriously,” Stan agreed with a hearty laugh. “I’d love to see those Northwests try and buy their way outta this kind of embarrassment!”

The group exchanged a round of genuine laughter at this, though it was abruptly cut short as an alarm started to blare from behind the outer wall. “Aw man! We should have figured they’d have some kind of alarm rigged up!” Amethyst exclaimed with a scowl.

“W-what do we do?!” Pearl asked, startled by this sudden turn of events.

“What we always do when things start turning south!” Stan asserted as he began running for the car along with Amethyst. “Bail!”

Soos wasn’t too far behind the two of them, and while Pearl remained in stunned silence at this tactic for a moment or two, Garnet was quick to help her wits return to her. “You heard him. It’s time to bail.”

“R-right…” the white Gem said with relative uncertainty, but even so, she hurried along, hopping on top of the conman’s car along with her teammates. As they always did after every successful Revenge Trip, Stan turned the car radio up all the way as Amethyst let her hair blow wild and free in the whipping breeze. Caught up in this spirit of revelry, Soos took the shirt he had been working on turning into another W-neck off and let it hang out the window, while Garnet reclined casually atop the roof with a satisfied smile. Pearl was the last to join in on the fun, but when she did, it was in the form of a burst of laughter she was scarcely able to contain, one that the others were all quick to catch. In no time at all, the entire car was rattling with their shared joyous chuckles as they rode off into the night, their success secured, even if it was a small one. Still, for all of them, it certainly felt momentous.

Since Pacifica was taking quite a bit of time in returning to the game, the kids decided to work on tallying up everyone’s scores in the meantime. Not that they really needed to of course; after all, it was beyond clear that Mabel and Connie, as tied as their scores were, were going to completely trump Pacifica, no contest. As long as things continued the way they were going, then in just a few more holes, that sweet victory would finally be sealed.

“Oh man, it’s gonna be so great once we beat Pacifica,” Connie said with a vindictive smile, casually balancing her putter atop her hand for fun. “After all the times she’s insulted us and made us miserable, it’s about time she sees what that misery is like for herself.”

“I know, right?” Dipper asked with an eager grin. “I can’t wait to see the look on her face when we win. I’m thinking it’ll be like: ‘ugh!’” At this, he twisted his expression into a disgruntled scowl, one that was befitting of the heiress herself. “You know how she does that? ‘Ugh!’”

“Oh my gosh, that’s totally what she does!” Connie laughed, though the levity was soon interrupted by Steven.

“Uh, you guys? I still don’t know if what we’re doing here is… ok,” the young Gem said with a concerned frown. “I mean, it’s great that we’re winning, but can we really even call it winning if the mini-golf guys are doing all the work for us?”

“Don’t worry about that, Steven,” Dipper reassured with a wave of his hand. “After all, Pacifica doesn’t know about all this, so it’s not like it really matters in the grand scheme of things.”

“Dipper’s right,” Connie nodded. “Besides, winning is still winning, no matter how you look at it. So what if we needed a little help to get this far? Pacifica has a personal trainer helping her out. So really, what we’re doing is just a matter of evening the playing field.”

“Don’t you mean the putting green?” Mabel cut in with a small, joking smirk.

“Oh! I see what you did there!”

The kids shared a laugh over this, though it soon fizzled out as Mabel glanced down somewhat anxiously. “Guys? Is it bad that I feel good about Pacifica feeling bad?”

“Just enjoy your victory, Mabel,” Dipper encouraged, wrapping an arm around his sister’s shoulder. “Trust me; Pacifica will be fine.”

No sooner had he finished saying this however, then the conversation was curtailed as a rather familiar scream rang through the golf course. Startled, the kids all turned towards its source at the windmill, only to find Pacifica tightly tied up on the ground in front of it, courtesy of the Dutch Lilliputtians who stood guard over her. “What’s going on here!?” she exclaimed, struggling to break free from her bonds. “Let me go, you little creeps!”

The kids all let out a shared gasp of shock at this surprising turn of events, but even so, the Lilliputtians hardly noticed their alarm as Franz stepped up to them with a blithe smile. “Welcome, kids! Welcome!” he greeted cheerfully, as though him and his brethren weren’t holding the heiress hostage. “I can tell you’re loving this, right? Right?”

“What are you guys doing?!” Mabel asked with apt concern.

“Why did you tie Pacifica up?” Steven questioned, rather confused. “You know we can’t really finish the game without her, right?”

“Well, we could,” Connie noted with a shrug. “It just means she’d forfeit. Which would make things a lot easier, actually.”

“Like I’d ever do that!” Pacifica scoffed, still as haughty as ever, despite the apparent peril she was in.

“Still,” Dipper cut in adamantly. “This wasn’t part of the deal, tiny Dutchman!”

“Ok, but get this,” Franz attempted to appeal. “We saw you were favoring the minors, so we figured, what’s better than beating Pacifica? Killing her! Am I right?”

“As if!” the heiress exclaimed hotly, still trying to get free from the tight ropes wrapped around her. “I’m calling my parents. Where’s my phone?” Pacifica glanced over as much as she could to see that the Lilliputtians had managed to snatch her phone away and were in the process of texting insults to her friends on it. “Hey! Hey!”

“So how about it now, Hugelings?” Franz asked the kids with a confident smile. “Who’s ‘da best’ now?”

“Not so fast, land lubbers!” the pirate captain Lilliputtian interrupted from the ship before the kids could even hope to interact. However, as they turned towards the pirate group, the let out another unified gasp upon seeing that they had kidnapped Sergei and had likewise tied him up as they forced him to stand at the edge of the plank. “If yer going to play dirty, so are we. Now give us the sticker or he walks the plank!”

“No! Give us ze sticker!” the French Lilliputtians protested.

“The miners!” said group of Lilliputtians ran up frantically. “Give it to the miners!”

By now, every faction of Lilliputtians had worked themselves up into a heated frenzy, all of them clamoring for the exact same thing: the sticker and the honor it would bestow upon whoever received it. The kids looked to each other with growing dread as this conflict started showing signs of violent once more, all four of them knowing that the pressure was on to finally make a decision between them. However, in the end Mabel was the one to break through the rumble of angry shouts and threats.

“Enough!” she exclaimed boldly, catching the attention of every single Lilliputtian as their fighting came to an abrupt halt. “You know what? No one gets the sticker!”

An immediate ripple of disappointment filtered through the crowd of golf ball people, though a single French Lilliputtian shared their common sentiment quite nicely. “Sacre boo!” He shouted as all of the others were quick to join in on the disgruntled jeer.

“No, no boing!” Mabel shook her head as she took the sticker off her sweater and held it high out of their reach. “No one gets the sticker because you’re all being jerks!”

“Why can’t you all just try getting along?” Steven asked with a pleading grin. His suggestion, however, was very quickly shot down.

“Because we hate each other!”

“That’s kind of how rivalries work.”

“Well maybe… maybe rivalries are dumb!” Mabel proclaimed, a hint of realization entering her tone, especially as she happened to steal a glance over at Pacifica. “Maybe you don’t settle them with petty competitions. Maybe the only way to be ‘da best’ is by ending the fighting and working together!” With her point clearly made, she promptly crumbled the sticker up before shoving it into her mouth and swallowing it whole in clear view of all of the shocked Lilliputtians. Appalled as they were by the loss of their prize, however, they somehow didn’t go into an all out riot. At least not at first.

“It’s all so clear…” one of the Dutch Lilliputtians mused thoughtfully.

“If we work together…” Franz trailed off before the pirate captain picked it up.

“Then we can cut open her belly and get the sticker!” he shouted, holding his small sword aloft. All of the other Lilliputtians let out a unified cheer at this violent plan, their hatred towards each other dissolved as it had found a new target instead.

“W-well this definitely took an unexpected turn!” Connie exclaimed fearfully as her and the others all backed away from the charging Lilliputtians.

“Uh, you guys really aren’t appreciating the lesson here!” Mabel tried to appeal to them once more, only for them to continue their aggressive pursuit. This unfolding chaos was soon broken through though, as Pacifica let out another frightened scream. Apparently, the Dutch Lilliputtians had pulled a lever that worked to push the conveyor belt the heiress was tired to towards the windmill. To make matters worse, the windmill blades were whirling at a deadly speed, putting Pacifica in even more peril that she was already in.

“We gotta get out of here!” Dipper urged, just as ready to flee as Connie and Steven both were.

“We have to save Pacifica first!” Mabel protested earnestly, nodding the heiress’s way.

“Ok, but think about it,” Connie interjected, not as ready and willing to let Pacifica’s past cruelty go as easily as Mabel apparently was. “Do we really have to save her?”

“Yes!” Mabel exclaimed as though it were obvious as she grabbed Connie’s wrist to pull her along. “Come on!”

As the girls raced off, the boys were more than set to provide them with backup, though before they could, they were halted by Sergei’s fearful cry as he started teetering off of the pirate ship’s plank and towards the pond below. “Ah! Mister Dipper! Mister Steven! Niet! Niet!”

“Don’t freak out, man!” Dipper advised. “The water’s shallow! There’s literally no way you could drown.” Of course, no more than a second later, the trainer finally did fall into the pond, and face first at that as he immediately started to take in water. “Seriously?” Dipper asked with disgruntled disbelief.

“We should probably save him,” Steven noted, already hurrying to go do so.

“Right…” Dipper agreed, following not too far behind.

Meanwhile, the girls made good use of their respective athletic skills as they managed to push their way through the clamoring crowd of Lilliputtians. Connie made sure to clear them a path by knocking several of the golf ball creatures aside with her putter as Mabel started scaling a nearby lamp post to get on higher ground. Connie was quick to follow her up, and after making sure that the Lilliputtians could not follow them, both girls used the hanging string of lights above to swing their way towards the windmill, all while narrowly avoiding the tiny pencils the golf ball people were lobbing towards them the entire time. Upon making it to the windmill mound, Mabel got to work on untying Pacifica as Connie stood guard, swinging any Lilliputtian that got too close for comfort away.

“Ugh, took you long enough,” the heiress complained as Mabel started undoing the knotted ropes. “And watch the earrings. They’re worth more than your house.”

“You know, I kinda figured this was a bad idea,” Connie mused dryly after having knocking away another Lilliputtian. “And it’s looking like I was kinda right about that.”

“Yeah… pretty much,” Mabel agreed, pulling her hands away as she gave Pacifica a critical frown. “Maybe we just won’t untie you then.”

“No! Untie me! Untie me!” Pacifica demanded frantically.

“That’s what we thought,” Mabel smirked as she finished losing the ropes. Finally free, the heiress quickly scrambled to stand, though the girls hardly had a moment to breathe easy as Connie found herself pushed back by the sheer number of Lilliputtians crowded around the windmill.

“We have you at miniature pencil point!” the pirate captain growled, holding said mini-pencil up threateningly. “There’s no way around us!”

At this integral juncture, instead of worrying for their chances, all three of the girls exchanged almost amicable, yet certainly confident smirks. Sure, Mabel was much more content to work together with Pacifica than Connie was, but still, none of that mattered now as they prepared to face off against their tiny foes. “You guys ready to putt?” Mabel asked daringly.

“Always ready,” Connie nodded, her expression serious as she drew her putter back like a sword.

“Way ahead of you,” Pacifica added, reclaiming her club as Mabel handed it to her.

Without any further ado, the girls began their decisive strike. Not paying much mind to aim or accuracy, all three of them stood back to back as they started whacking any Lilliputtian their clubs managed to make contact with. Despite the danger they were in, it was admittedly exhilarating for three mini-golf masters such as themselves to be using their skills for something this intense.

“You know,” Pacifica called to Mabel and Connie amidst their barrage of swings. “You two actually aren’t that terrible. A little rusty, but-”

“Shut up and putt!” Mabel shouted, too caught up in the moment to care about such sentiments now. Pacifica did so, sending just as many Lilliputtians flying as Mabel and Connie were. As fast as they were swinging, they were succeeding in thinning through the golf ball race’s massive numbers, to the point that sure enough, they had cleared all of the immediate ones away. And just in time too, as Dipper and Steven soon pulled up in the course’s golf cart, with the rescued Sergei in tow.

“Get on!” Dipper exclaimed to the girls urgently, knowing that more Lilliputtians were hot on their tail.

“Where did you guys find a golf cart?” Connie asked, somewhat bewildered as her, Mabel, and Pacifica climbed aboard.

“Well, Dipper says we’re just borrowing it,” Steven began with a fretful frown. “But considering all of the other iffy things we’ve done tonight, I’m pretty sure we’re just gonna end up stealing it.”

“Steal, borrow, same thing,” Dipper shrugged, unconcerned.

“Who cares?!” Mabel cut in as she spotted a crowd of Lilliputtians charging for them. “Just gun it!”

Dipper did just that, flooring the cart’s gas pedal as the vehicle lurched forward. The others all hung on for dear life as the cart swerved past the obstacles and traps the Lilliputtians had put in their way, including a row of axes that they only narrowly sped past. On their way towards the exit, they were forced into a loop-de-loop obstacle on one of the holes, something that the kids were all able to hold onto for, though Sergei unfortunately right off the back of the cart.

“Sergei overboard!” the trainer cried as the kids zoomed on without him.

“I’ll get a new one,” Pacifica concluded, knowing it would be far too risky to go back for him now.

Still, as they finally made a beeline for the gate, it was clear that the Lilliputtians weren’t about to give up their sought-after sticker that easily. Pooling their numbers and efforts together, the golf ball people piled on top of each other, giving them enough height and strength to start pushing the course’s gates closed in the hopes of barring any form of escape.

“U-uh oh! They’re not gonna let us leave!” Steven exclaimed fearfully.

“Well we can’t just stop now!” Dipper argued, not slowing the cart down at all.

“Don’t worry! We’ve got this!” Connie assured, exchanging a determined nod with Mabel. Not wasting a beat, both girls quickly climbed onto the roof, clubs in hand as they prepared to fend this final obstacle off. However, before they could, they were suddenly stopped by a voice from behind.

“Don’t even think about it,” Franz said coldly, prompting both girls to turn around and look down at him. “You two call yourselves golfers? Without us, that club is useless in your hands!”

“Oh yeah?” Mabel asked with a challenging grin. “Then what’s ten minus six?”

“Ten minus-” Franz paused, caught off guard by this question as he began counting on his fingers. “Wait… hang on…”

“Fore!” both girls shouted in bold unison, swinging their clubs together in perfect timing. Their shot rang true, striking Franz hard and sending him flying right into the nearby bonus hole. The hole’s decorative volcano erupted vibrantly as the golf cart sped up it, giving the vehicle just the speed boost it needed to sail over the last crowd of Lilliputtians and through the nearly shut gates just before they closed. The cart came to a skidding halt in the parking lot, mere seconds after Stan, Soos, and the Gems pulled up, having just narrowly returned from their impromptu Revenge Trip. Considering the fact that the kids had escaped them, the Lilliputtians were quite enraged as they threw mini-pencils and even a spare ax over the fence, sending threats at the group the entire time.

“And stay out, you dumb hugelings!” Franz shouted harshly from the other side of the gate.

“What did you say, you little trolls?” Pacifica asked hotly, getting out of the cart and storming over to the fence. “I will sue you!” She slammed her fist into the gate, an outraged scowl on her face. “I will sue you and I will own you!”

“Yeesh,” Dipper remarked dryly to the others upon seeing this petty outburst. “I feel sorry for whatever poor sap ends up dating her in the future.”

While they were still sitting atop the conman’s car, the Gems, Garnet in particular, happened to overhear this comment, and for whatever reason, it elicited an amused chuckle from the Gem leader. “What’s so funny?” Pearl asked with a confused frown.

“You’ll get it eventually,” Garnet smirked, letting out another small laugh as she adjusted her shades.

“You four!” Pacifica scowled crossly as she spun around to face the rest of the group. “I don’t know what you did or what’s going on, but if you think just because you saved my life, I’d-”

The heiress was cut off, her unfinished rant left hanging as she noticed the sticker Mabel was handing her, one that featured a cat and read “I a-paw-logize”. “I’m sorry, Pacifica…” Mabel frowned with genuine remorse. “We shouldn’t have cheated. You totally would have beaten us, fair and square, right Connie?”

“No,” Connie said coldly, only to change her stance upon receiving disapproving looks from both Mabel and Steven. And while she did put forth something of an effort to be amicable, it was clear that she still harbored a good bit of resentment for the heiress, even after everything they had been through. “I mean…. Yeah, maybe,” she paused for a moment, lowering her voice down to a mutter for her next statement. “If you got lucky or something.”

Pacifica’s glower deepened a little upon hearing this, but she actually decided not to fire any glaring retorts back this time as she instead but the sticker on her top. “Whatever,” she remarked with her usual haughty air. “You’re just lucky this sticker looks fantastic on me.”

“Hey, kids!” Stan shouted somewhat impatiently from the car. “Are we heading home or not? Cause I’d rather do that sooner than later if we are!”

“Yeah, especially if any cops are on our tails…” Amethyst whispered discreetly, though Pearl let out an alarmed gasp at this.

“C-cops?!” she asked, looking to Garnet worriedly. “We’re not going to get arrested for that t-tiny bit of vandalism, are we?”

“Mmm… probably not,” the Gem leader replied with a shrug.

Without needing much further prompting, Steven, Dipper, and Connie all made their way towards the car, climbing into the back. Mabel, however, hesitated for a brief moment before she got in, especially as she looked back to Pacifica, who was still standing near the gates of the park, glaringly alone. Conflicted, Mabel looked to the others, taking note of the fact that Steven gave her a small, supportive smile while both Dipper and Connie were shaking their heads in disapproval over the idea they both knew she had. Still, that really didn’t stop her from going through with it anyway.

“Hey!” she called to Pacifica. “Your parents aren’t here yet. Want a ride home?”

“Ugh, please,” the heiress quickly rejected with a bitter scoff. “As if I’d ever ride in your-” She was quickly interrupted, however, but an abrupt burst of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning in the skies overhead. Knowing that she really didn’t have any other options, Pacifica let out a sigh of defeat as she trudged towards the car, somehow managing to squeeze into the back (albeit uncomfortably so) along with the other four kids. While Stan’s car was far beyond its safe carrying capacity, especially with the Gems still riding on the roof, the conman hardly cared as he began to drive away from the golf course. Instead, him and Soos sang a short little ditty about driving while the car careened down the road, while on the roof, the noise of Amethyst and Pearl arguing about something could be heard even from inside. For a while, all five of the kids sat in relative silence, with Dipper and Connie still feeling quite petulant over the fact that they had even allowed Pacifica to hitch a ride with them while Steven and Mabel were in their usual high spirits. The heiress herself couldn’t have been more uncomfortable as she was pressed tightly between the twins, her gloved hand resting on an unknown sticky spot and her hair already far too frazzled for her liking.

“Hey! I found two tacos!” Mabel exclaimed with a huge grin, pulling out the snacks from the back window before taking a bite out of one of them.

“Oh, I was wondering where Amethyst put those!” Steven chuckled mirthfully. “I’m sure she won’t mind if you eat them though, Mabel. She has like, a whole secret stash of them back at the temple!”

“Great!” Mabel exclaimed, her mouth full. All the while, Pacifica could only stare at her in complete awe, as if she was unable to really comprehend what was happening at all.

“You’re allowed to eat in the car?” she finally asked Mabel, her jaw still dropped in shock.

“Yeah!” Mabel nodded brightly. “The car is where secret surprise snacks happen! Want one?” she asked, holding her spare taco out to the heiress.

“Oh, I’m not supposed to take handouts,” Pacifica quickly shook her head, only to hear Connie and Dipper both let out a shared snicker beside her. “And what exactly is so funny?” she asked them with an unimpressed glare.

“This isn’t a handout, Pacifica,” Mabel interjected with an amused grin. “It’s called sharing!”

“Sha-sharrring?” Pacifica asked, the word completely foreign on her tongue.

“Figures she wouldn’t even know what sharing is,” Connie muttered to Dipper, eliciting another small chuckle from them both.

“Sharing is when you give things to other people without asking for anything in return,” Steven explained with a patient smile. “It’s a really nice thing that friends do to show each other that they care!”

The heiress gave him a totally confounded look upon hearing this, several of the words and concepts he had used totally new to her. “Ok, now you’ve lost me.”

“You know what? Just take it,” Mabel laughed, handing the taco to her. Pacifica hesitantly took it, though she didn’t exactly eat it right away as she instead simply stared at it in muted confusion. On display all around her was a lifestyle that she had never really seen close up before. A lifestyle where one could eat what her parents would certainly deem as “peasant” food while in the car. Where people gave things to each other without thinking of money or favors that could be gained from it. Where the adults in charge consisted of morally ambiguous conmen, somewhat dim-witted handymen, and bizarre, yet supportive magical women. Where wealth, power, and appearances hardly mattered at all, and were instead replaced with fun, warmth, and freedom. And as much as it completely bewildered Pacifica, to the point that she could scarcely even wrap her head around it, she couldn’t deny that there was almost a strange kind of… comfort to it all. A comfort that she would certainly never let herself indulge in willingly. But still, a comfort nonetheless.

And yet, all too soon it was over. The car soon pulled up to the gates of Northwest Manor, Stan and the Gems all wearing proud, knowing smirks as the kids turned to take in their handiwork on the walls. Pacifica let out an appalled gasp as she saw all of the various insults graffitied onto her mansion’s outer gate, but even so, the vandals responsible for it played it quite cool all the while.

“W-who did this?!” the heiress asked hotly, quickly getting out of the car.

“Good question,” Garnet shrugged casually from atop the roof.

“Well whoever it was, it certainly wasn’t us-” Pearl’s innocent statement was quickly interrupted by an elbowing and a shush from Amethyst.

“Hey, maybe it was one of your hundreds of servants,” Stan remarked to Pacifica with a broad grin. “You should fire him and send him down to the Mystery Shack. I can use someone to massage my bunions.”

Pacifica simply let out a frustrated growl as the conman and the purple Gem let out a laugh at her expense, but somehow, she managed to push her anger away and turn on her heel to head inside. “Thanks for the ride, or whatever,” she remarked flippantly, though she did pause for just a moment. “Oh, and Mabel? Um, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I had fun.” She smiled briefly, one that was actually genuine in contrast to her usual sardonic smirks, before she continued to the gates. “Oh, and tell your servant I like his W-neck!”

“Yes!” Soos cheered before the flap of his W-neck fell down once again.

“I can’t believe you guys graffitied her mansion,” Connie remarked to Stan and the Gems with an amazed smile. “That’s so awesome!”

“Eh, it was just a usual Revenge Trip,” Stan shrugged, even though he was still grinning. “Nothing special.”

“Whoa, Pearl, did you write that one?” Steven asked, pointing to the long insult written in the white Gem’s usual curly handwriting. “Because even if it is kinda mean, it looks really cool!”

“Why, yes, Steven,” Pearl crossed her arms, grinning in proud satisfaction. “I did write that! And I’d do it again too!”

“Whoa there, rebel,” Amethyst chuckled. “Might wanna calm it down there a bit. Don’t wanna spend all your excitement on your first Revenge Trip.”

“F-first?!” Pearl asked in sudden alarm, suddenly troubled at the thought of going on another morally ambiguous escapade like this again.

“So are you and Pacifica like, cool now?” Dipper asked Mabel with a confused frown as they watched her approach the mansion gates.

“I think we made some progress,” Mabel nodded confidently. “The important thing to remember is that at the end of the day, she’s just an ordinary kid like us.”

She was quickly proven wrong, of course, as the manor gates swung open to reveal the lavish Northwest mansion standing safely behind them, its massive structure and scope far more impressive up close than they were at a distance. Of course, the elegance was only heightened by the beautiful fountains dotting its lawn, as well as the graceful peacocks meandering about it. As if to hail the heiress’s return home, a round of blaring fireworks went off as she stepped through the gates, spelling out the words “Congratulations, Pacifica!” in the night sky. For a moment, the kids could only stare in shared awe at all this pomp and circumstance that Pacifica certainly got to enjoy on a daily basis, until they all quickly regathered their wits about them.

“Honestly, I’m not even surprised,” Connie concluded with a tired sigh, resting back in her seat as she crossed her arms.

“Wow… look at all those peacocks!” Steven exclaimed in amazement. “I wonder if they all have cute little names!”

“You should have charged her for that taco,” Dipper said to Mabel, who really couldn’t argue with him on that point.

“Agreed!”

“Hey, you got any more of those surprise tacos?” Soos asked from up front as the car began to pull away.

“Wait, surprise tacos?” Amethyst asked with a sudden frown. “Hey! My car stash!” She pouted in faux anger for a moment before breaking into a devious smirk. “Well since you guys are gonna eat all my tacos, I guess we’re just gonna have to take a trip through tumble tunnel!” Shapeshifting her arms wide, the purple Gem grabbed the sides of the car and began to shake it around as it drove down the road. The kids all laughed in amusement as they bumped against each other in the backseat, and Stan couldn’t help but join in, even if he was still trying to remain on the road for as much as Amethyst was rocking the car.

“A-Amethyst!” Pearl exclaimed, struggling to hold onto the roof. “Stop that this-”

The white Gem was abruptly cut off as Garnet placed a hand on her shoulder, sending her a coy smile as she shook her head and silently commanded her to enjoy the fun. And while Pearl’s first instinct was to protest this, she soon did, letting out a small chuckle and adding to the chorus of laugher rocking the car just as much as Amethyst was as it rolled down the road towards the rising sun.

Still, what no one was aware of as they headed home was that they had a tiny stowaway clinging to the car’s license plate, hiding just out of everyone’s view. “Laugh now, hugelings…” Franz muttered with a cold, calculating smirk. “But Franz will have his day! Franz will-” His vengeful musings were cut short as Amethyst’s rocking resulted in the car jolting violently as it went over a pothole. Unable to hold onto the license plate, Franz fell off and ultimately ended rolling into a ­shallow pit on the side of the road, unfortunately landing upside down. “Ah! Help!” he cried, squirming desperately in a futile attempt to right himself. “Sand trap! Ow! Somebody help me!”

 Next: 

[theconservativebrief]

Ryan Coogler’s Creed, the 2015 film that unexpectedly made the Rocky franchise great again, worked so well because it knew exactly when to celebrate and when to subvert the Rocky formula.

Casting the great star-in-the-making Michael B. Jordan as Adonis “Donnie” Johnson, the son of Rocky’s Apollo Creed — whom the heavyweight champ Rocky Balboa got his million-to-one shot against in the 1976 original, before the two became friends in later films — was a smart way to replicate Rocky’s rise-and-fall-of-a-boxer story arc. It also allowed Creed to shed the weird detritus that the Rocky franchise had accumulated over the previous four decades (like that robot).

And as if that wasn’t enough, Coogler made the world aware of how great Tessa Thompson (who plays the film’s love interest) is and gave Sylvester Stallone (Rocky himself) his best role since the 1990s — while simultaneously announcing himself as one of the most promising directors of his generation. He shot Creed’s fight sequences with a balletic grace, and imbued the film’s interpersonal scenes with just as much heart and heft (before delivering on his potential with the impressive follow-up project of 2018’s absolutely massive hit Black Panther).

What makes Creed II just a little disappointing, then, is the way it simply becomes another Rocky movie. Where the first film meditated on the legacies that black fathers leave for their sons, on the notions of aging and mortality, and on what it means to build a name for yourself that distinguishes you from your parents, the second film is mostly concerned with who wins boxing matches. It pillages Rocky history wholesale, becoming a kind of remix of two of the other movies in the franchise.

And yet … the reason there are so many Rocky movies is that their base formula still works. Creed II might not be the near-perfect movie its predecessor was, but it’s still pretty good. Let’s examine the recipe that went into making this film.

Donnie and Bianca have a child, thus batting for the Rocky II cycle. MGM

If you know anything about the plot of Creed II — and the Rocky franchise in general — you’ll probably expect the film to follow in the footsteps of Rocky IV. And it does, pitting Donnie against the son of Ivan Drago, the man who killed Apollo. (We’ll get into this plot point in more detail in just a moment.)

But what holds Creed II together isn’t the conflict with Drago. Instead, it’s Donnie’s attempt to figure out what his life might look like without boxing. He and Bianca (Thompson) get engaged. They discover she’s pregnant. They move to Los Angeles to be closer to his mom (the great Phylicia Rashad). And when Donnie encounters a setback that makes him hesitant to return to the ring, the movie enters a surprisingly powerful stretch that just lets Jordan work through his emotions, trying to process the traumatic things that have happened to him.

It’s a reminder that this franchise has always been at its best when it pairs smaller-scale stories of its characters just trying to live their lives with the spectacle of the big boxing matches. It’s also a welcome chance to give Thompson and Rashad more to do than Creed offered — accounting for Creed II’s one unambiguous improvement over the original film.

But astute Rocky scholars will recognize this story as largely a soft reboot of the plot of Rocky II (one of the less discussed Rocky sequels, perhaps because it doesn’t feature a memorable “villain”). Like Rocky II, Creed II replaces a great director (Coogler on Creed; John Avildsen on Rocky) with a serviceable one (Steven Caple Jr. here; Stallone himself on Rocky II), and it compensates for a retread of a story with ever grander mythmaking. (At one point, Donnie retreats to the desert for a massive training montage that asks, “You already know Michael B. Jordan is buff. But what if he were more buff?”)

Even in the particulars of their plots, Creed II and Rocky II have a lot in common: the main character having to step away from boxing for a long time before finally dragging himself back to the ring for the climactic rematch; the coupling up; the baby being born.

And just like Rocky II, Creed II is a pretty good follow-up to a great predecessor.

The Dragos come to Philly. MGM

But, okay, there’s a lot of Rocky IV in this movie!

By far the most ridiculous of the Rocky films, Rocky IV sends the mumblemouthed boxer into the Soviet Union to avenge the death of Apollo, who died in a match against Ivan Drago, the Russian monolith of a man played by Dolph Lundgren. Rocky was Apollo’s trainer and failed to call the fight when he saw his boxer was ailing, so it’s a mission of both redemption and revenge. By the end of the film, Rocky has more or less won the Cold War.

Rocky IV is kind of awesome, in that cheesy ’80s way, but its tone could not be more different from the more realistic tone of the Creed movies. So the choice to incorporate Drago, his son Viktor, and a vision of post-Soviet Russia that mostly seems drawn from watching ’80s movies feels like a dangerous gamble on the part of Creed II screenwriters Stallone and Juel Taylor.

What saves this story from feeling like a total misfire is the script’s willingness to scramble your emotional investment. The Dragos were completely tossed out of Russian society and have had to live a hardscrabble life on the fringes of that world; Viktor is a massive wall of a man because it’s the only thing he knows how to be. (In contrast, Donnie had some degree of economic security once he learned who his father was.)

Don’t get me wrong. Neither Caple nor Creed II’s screenwriters seem to realize just how sympathetic they’ve made the Dragos, especially in a climactic fight that hinges on the relationship between father and son in a way that doesn’t wholly work. And pivoting from the intimacy of Creed to a generation-spanning family epic straight out of a potboiler novel is just a weird call all around. (So is the way Ivan keeps saying variations on “break him,” because everybody remembers him saying “I must break you” in Rocky IV.) But it could have been worse.

Stallone and Jordan still have potent chemistry. MGM

One reason Creed II manages to avoid totally losing itself in Rocky lore is simple: It’s still rooted in a movie that took its characters and their emotional complexities seriously. The sequel struggles to find anything for Rocky to do that’s as compelling as what he experienced in Creed, but it can still coast on the power of Stallone’s cragged face, tumbling off his skull like rocks from a mountain.

Similarly, there’s really no good reason for Creed II to busy itself with a brief conflict between Donnie and Rocky that seems to exist just to make the movie longer, but Jordan and Stallone built up such goodwill with Creed that I accepted it until I realized it was simply marking time. The sequel clearly recognizes how potent the chemistry between Jordan and Thompson is, and goes all in on it.

There are worrying signs in Creed II that a potential Creed III might abandon any semblance of ties to our reality, and its inability to meaningfully connect a story where Donnie becomes a father to the preceding film where he struggled under the burden of never knowing his own is a touch surprising.

And that’s to say nothing of Caple, who films Creed II’s fight scenes with a blunt, visceral quality that appeals but makes most of the movie’s smaller scenes feel a little perfunctory, as if he were checking shots off a list. Particularly egregious in this regard is a scene where Donnie’s mother figures out that Bianca is pregnant before she does, after his mom simply says that Bianca looks pregnant, even though we never see a hint of why she might think so. (Caple even botches a great little bit of physical comedy from Thompson that closes the scene!)

But I really loved Creed, and just enough of that movie’s spark carried over to its sequel to keep me invested.

In the end, what most prevents Creed II from being better is the way everything that happens in the Rocky universe primarily concerns the same handful of families — to the degree that when Donnie needs a new trainer in LA (after Rocky stays behind in Philly), he hires the son of Apollo’s old trainer. It’s ludicrous!

And it makes the movie feel a little like one of those primetime TV soap operas that indulge in wild fancies in the name of entertaining us. There are a couple of scenes involving the Drago family saga that made me howl, and their silliness felt half-intentional on the part of Creed II’s filmmakers, like they were daring the audience to take the scenes seriously because they knew how ridiculous it was.

This kind of hurts the movie’s attempt to establish the identity of the Creed franchise as something distinct from the Rocky franchise. But hey, even the stupidest Rocky movies are a lot of fun.

Gotta have a montage. MGM

The little-seen, not-that-bad 2006 Rocky Balboa — in which Rocky hauls himself back into the ring because the TV all but dares him to, while examining his relationship with his son (Milo Ventimiglia) — was not a movie whose themes I expected to ever appear in the Creed franchise. But there it is, winking at you in a handful of scenes, prodding you to wonder if Ventimiglia might take a day off from This Is Us to film a quick cameo.

I won’t reveal whether he did, but this tiny leavening agent is what ultimately reveals that Creed II’s heart is always in the right place, even when its brain isn’t. It’s a movie about how families are complicated legacies of their own, long continuations of stories we don’t always understand or appreciate as we’re living them, and how sometimes, time runs out unexpectedly. It is, in its own, weird way, a great Thanksgiving movie.

Creed II is playing in theaters everywhere.

Original Source -> Creed II is no Creed. But it’s a pretty good Rocky sequel.

via The Conservative Brief