Headcanon that after Heinz abused the Chicken-Replaceinator one too many times, all the chickens in the Tri-State Area attacked him like the Cuccos in Legend of Zelda.
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Been thinking of doing another story in a universe where DT17 Drake Mallard is Jim Starling's son. I have so many headcanons for how their dynamic would play out!
Jim Starling is the one who taught Drake how to fight after Drake got bullied in school one too many times. He got distracted from filming once because Drake was watching from the sidelines with a black eye, and he decided that he was sick of Drake constantly being picked up with bruises and tears so he took Drake aside and showed him how to throw a punch. The following day, he was called to the school because Drake was in trouble for punching a bully in the face. He was so proud of his boy that he took him straight to Hamburger Hippo for a celebration.
2. But Jim Starling isn't exactly...the most emotionally present father. His go-to solution is always violence, so Drake's learned to go to the other cast members when he just needs to talk to somebody. The actors who play the Fearsome Four and Morgana love Drake as one of their own, and they mostly stick around because having Jim Starling as a father is rough sometimes, even if Drake doesn't always admit it.
3. Criticizing Jim's parenting is the fastest way to set him off, sometimes even more so than insulting Darkwing Duck.
4. Drake heavily believes in his father being a hero, and it hurts him when others say negative things about Jim. Even as an adult, he still struggles to reconcile that the father he built up in his head was different from his father in reality.
5. Drake changed his surname to Mallard shortly before beginning his acting career. The name of Starling carried some negative connotations that would've worked against him in getting roles, and Jim took this as a betrayal and didn't speak to Drake until he learned of the Darkwing reboot movie.
2nd Dimension AU where 2D Vanessa defects from her parents and joins the Resistance because she got sick of Doof-2 controlling her life and banishing any boyfriend or friend she tried to have. It was Perry the Platyborg who helped her escape because a small part of him was still trying to fight back against Doof-2's brainwashing, but he got caught and as punishment any autonomy he still had left was thoroughly erased.
Now Vanessa also wants to find a way to help Perry while also freeing the Tri-State Area from her family's rule.
Vanessa gets captured by the Firestorm Girls while she's trying to find her way into a Resistance base. They assume she's there to search for weak spots so the Normbots can storm the base, but Vanessa tells them that she defected and wants to join the fight against her family. They don't believe her, and she doesn't expect them to, but since she's a fairly important prisoner Isabella contacts Candace to come and interrogate her.
Naturally, Candace comes and demands to know what the enemy's plans are for the inevitable raid on their base, and Vanessa once again repeats that she came alone and she wants to join their side. Naturally, Candace assumes it's a trick and doesn't trust her one bit.
As the strategist of the team, Baljeet reveals that they've been having problems hitting one of Doof-2's strongholds because of all the traps and security and suggests to Candace that it could be beneficial to let Vanessa come along due to her insider knowledge. Fortunately, Vanessa knows exactly what Baljeet is talking about and she's willing to help the Resistance get rid of it and weaken Doof-2's power.
It takes forever, but eventually Candace agrees to let Vanessa come along, though she holds her bo staff to Vanessa's neck and tells her that if she betrays them, she'll kill her without hesitation. Vanessa agrees to those terms.
During the raid on Doof-2's stronghold, Vanessa saves Candace's life and Candace is beginning to have some very conflicting thoughts on the dictator's daughter.
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Beauty and the Beast: Nevermore Bad Ending Oneshot
Summary: Bad Ending to the 1991 movie where Gaston slays the Beast and claims Belle's hand in marriage, in a twisted mockery of traditional fairy tales. But Belle knows that her fate will be an unhappy one, and she mourns the love and happiness she once shared with the one she truly loved.
Content Warning: Gaston
Read on AO3
“I love you.”
Belle laid her head against the Beast’s broad chest, but she no longer heard his breath, his voice, nor his heart.
Just as he could no longer hear her words, or return them in kind.
His body was lifeless beneath her, the rain swiftly washing away the warmth of his fur. Belle leaned against him, trying to preserve what little warmth she could.
A steady stream of blood pooled onto the stone balcony from the fatal wound in the Beast’s side, coloring his body red, and it didn’t stop. Belle pressed the edge of her cloak against the wound to stop the flow, only for her dearest friend’s blood to stain the palms of her hands.
The Beast’s blood–and the blood of all who lived in the castle, was on her hands.
In her desperation to save her father from the asylum, she’d revealed the Beast’s existence to Gaston and the village. She’d underestimated Gaston’s pride, bloodlust, and greed.
She’d led the mob to the castle, to her friends, to the only person who truly understood her.
This was all her fault.
And the Beast paid the price for her foolishness.
Belle’s tears mixed with the rain, face stinging from the bitter cold. She didn’t wipe them away.
A large shadow fell over Belle, and she could only let out a single, sharp gasp of fear before a rough hand snatched her hair, nearly yanking it right out of her scalp. Her hands grabbed the Beast’s body for what little protection remained, but her face hit the stone balcony.
The physical pain failed to compare to the weight in her heart.
The Beast’s hands, though they held power that sent an entire wolf pack fleeing with their tails between their legs, had been so gentle when they touched her own hands, her waist, her hair.
Unlike Gaston, who reveled in bringing misery to Belle and everyone she loved because she refused to bow to his demands of marriage.
He loomed over her now, his stance filled with arrogant pride. His dark hair had come loose from its tie, half-drooping over one side of his face while the other half violently lashed in the wind.
“I saved you from that monster,” Gaston growled, mouth twisted in an ugly sneer as he struck the Beast’s head with the heel of his boot. “Now you’re mine, Belle. And if you ever try to run from me again, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth.”
“No…” Belle whispered, though her resolve was crumbling from exhaustion. “I won’t ever be yours.”
Gaston’s eyes were steely, cold, devoid of the shine that once filled the Beast’s eyes when he looked at her.
He was a monster in the guise of a man, and he was never going to let her go.
“Pity,” Gaston said, forcing her to stand. His hands squeezed her shoulders, large fingers dangerously close to her neck. She couldn’t look him in the eye when she was struggling for every breath. “Because you don’t have a choice.”
Chains rattled in the shadows of the West Wing, and Belle cried out as Papa’s frightened face materialized from the darkness. A metal collar was wrapped around his neck, and he cried out for Belle as the attached chain yanked him to the ground.
The other end was held by Monsieur D’Arque, the cruel asylum owner who’d commit anyone to his house of unspeakable horror if he was paid enough. He twirled the chain in his hands, sunken eyes coldly watching Papa as he pulled the leash taut.
“Papa!” Belle screamed, lunging towards Papa as he choked and gasped for air. But Gaston pinned one arm behind her back to keep her in place, and she couldn’t break free.
“Now, now, such beastly behavior is most unsuitable for a new wife.” Monsieur D’Arque’s slimy grin stretched at his awful joke. “No need to worry, Madame. I shall handle the burden of your father’s care from now on. It’s time for you to focus on more important matters.”
Gaston turned Belle’s face, fingers pinching her jaw so that she couldn’t scream.
“Like me,” he said, shoving his tongue into her mouth.
Unable to move, she was forced to endure his rough lips, his teeth gnawing at her skin until the end.
Though it wasn’t her choice, she’d betrayed the Beast and all the servants with this kiss.
After an eternity, Gaston finally released her lips, though he held her arms so tightly that Belle was afraid he’d rip them off as retaliation for her disobedience.
She was afraid of Gaston, and he knew it. He was a hunter. He understood how to exploit his prey’s fear.
“You and I will be married upon our triumphant return to the village,” Gaston declared. “The Beast’s corpse will be displayed as proof of my victory. And of course, what’s a wedding without gifts?”
Out of the darkness came LeFou. He grinned up at Gaston, holding a broken, waxy candle and the ripped face of a clock in his hands.
“For the handsome groom and his lovely bride!” LeFou exclaimed, tossing what remained of Lumiere and Cogsworth’s lifeless bodies at Gaston’s feet.
The pair landed on top of one another, inseparable even in death.
Belle bowed her head. They’d been her friends too, and they were murdered for being nothing but hospitable to her.
She tried to kneel and gather their bodies to prevent Gaston from carelessly stepping on them, but he hooked one large hand around her waist–one of his fingers slightly slipping lower, and forced her to stand straight up.
Underneath her dress, she was sure to find bruises left on her skin.
This was only a small fraction of the misery yet to come.
From this point on, Gaston would control her life. She would never be free of him, nor would she ever find solace in a book’s pages.
The rest of the mob–made up of men she used to pass on the streets of her village every day, burst into the West Wing, cheering raucously for Gaston and disrespecting the space that the Beast once guarded with his life.
Broken pieces of porcelain were in their hands. A broken teapot spout, a shard with a cracked rim nearly splitting it in half, a handful of ripped feathers…
Mrs. Potts. Chip. Babette. And so many more.
They’d been her friends too–living, thinking, feeling beings who’d supported her in ways she never knew she needed.
With the Beast and the servants, she felt valued for more than just her body. Her life had purpose, and there were always new discoveries and grand adventures to have in an enchanted castle.
But now, as the men of the village leered at her with roaming eyes–some of whom looked rather jealous of Gaston, though they were married with children–she was simply prized, elusive prey they’d finally caught in their trap.
She was prey to be dressed–not with bread and vegetables, but with a pure white gown to signal how she was ripe for the taking.
She was prey to be displayed–the perfect, little wife who belonged to Gaston alone, whose ownership validated his self-proclaimed title of being the greatest hunter in the world.
She was prey to be torn from the inside out, producing children as Gaston demanded, until her body and spirit gave into blissful sleep.
As Gaston and his followers desecrated the Beast’s unmoving body, Belle fell to her knees and wept.
There was nothing more she could do for him, anyone else, or herself.
across the second dimension is such a crazy concept to me i need to know who came up with that. hey yknow all those beloved children’s tv icons we’ve created what if they were child soldiers
It came out in an era where dystopian YA novels were all the rage lol. 2D Candace is just a dystopian novel teenage girl protagonist in animated form (well except that she's not involved in a love triangle).
Also what do you mean Perry has to live with the memories of holding everyone up over lava and can't share his trauma with anyone cause they got their memories erased and what if he got sent away and relocated and could never see his family again for a situation he couldn't control
With the revelation that Celestial Dragons fear rain, that means theoretically we could just bring Nami up to Mariejois and have her Rain and Thunderbolt Tempo them all until the lower ranking Celestial Dragons all freak out and die cause the rain scared them all to death or they got electrocuted.
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I've always believed that Unwritten sung by Natasha Bedingfield is the unofficial anthem for fanfiction writers everywhere, no matter what their story is about.
"I am unwritten
Can't read my mind
I'm undefined
I'm just beginning
The pen's in my hand
Ending unplanned."
Verse 1 is when you first get that idea in your brain, that one that doesn't go away to the point where you feel an all-consuming urge to write that it eats away at you when you're at school, at work, in the shower, in bed late at night and instead of sleeping your brain won't rest.
It's just the beginning. You have a premise, a concept, a base idea of what you want the characters to do but you don't know how the final product is gonna turn out.
"Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you cannot find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions."
So you sit down and you begin to put those ideas to the paper or computer. Your ideas are becoming a reality and are being put into words you can actually see for the first time!
Sometimes we're scared of how others will view our work. Sometimes these are private stories meant for the author's eyes alone, while others are meant to be shared with other people. Maybe that's a select group you know, or a wide audience who might even be an entire ocean away.
And you've got that long term goal ahead of you. Maybe you want recognition for your story. Maybe you want closure for something you were unsatisfied with in canon, or explore a topic or character or situation that didn't get much time to shine. Maybe you need to process an event that happened to you in life, because sometimes giving what you experienced to a character helps you find that peace.
The end is a long way away, but you work at it one step at a time.
"I break tradition
Sometimes my tries
Are outside the lines, yeah, yeah
We've been conditioned
To not make mistakes
But I can't live that way, no, oh."
Your story is your own, so don't be afraid to write how you want it! It's good to take inspiration and constructive criticism when they come, just don't let what's popular distract you from what you want!
Mistakes are natural and even the best writers make them cause guess what? Language is confusing! Canon is complex! Grammar mistakes accidentally slip past us in editing! Everyone has to start from somewhere after all!
"Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins."
Generative AI will never be able to replace what you can accomplish with your own mind. And generating a story built upon others' hard work will never give that sense of accomplishment and pride that comes when you give your characters their own thoughts, feelings, and actions.
Nobody else can write what you can write. There are an infinite number of ways to arrange words in a story, and though premises might be similar, your words are entirely unique.
"The rest is still unwritten."
So what are you waiting for then? If you made it to the end of this post, write one sentence in your current WIP! It's a little step and it may not seem like much, but it's important all the same!
Taking a break from the main story to write the Shermie chapter of Remember Me! This is a side story I've been wanting to do for a while that's about Shermie and the extended Pines family in the 1970s and 1980s.
Shermie hobbled into the cramped apartment, and his own son–a toddler now, began to cry at the sight of him.
The sound rattled his ears, and the heaviness in his chest hurt far worse than the shrapnel piercing his body in Vietnam.
Shermie missed his son’s birth and first four years of life for a war he never wanted to be part of. He didn’t get to see Jacob walk for the first time, say his first word, or look at him with the sort of pure, innocent love only someone who had yet to experience the world could give.
The letter and picture he’d received during a rare moment of downtime at base camp wasn’t enough.
Even Filbrick, for all his faults, had been with his mother to name his sons after birth.
At least Shermie had a name all to himself. Poor Stanford and Stanley Pines were cursed from birth by a man who didn’t have a creative bone in his body.
"Jacob, it’s me. I’m your dad,” Shermie said as softly as he could. He wanted nothing more than to kneel and scoop the boy up, but his leg injury wouldn’t allow him. Jacob stood up on wobbly legs and ran towards the bedroom, abandoning his toy cars on the living room floor while Shermie could only watch.
He’d been home for three months, and Jacob had never gotten used to him. He’d cry and run to his mother or grandmother every time.
Separate Worlds Ch 15: Welcome to Gravity Falls Ch 4
Summary: Dipper has a nightmare because the author really likes nightmare sequences and I have to give him one at some point. Meanwhile, Ford flounders on what to do with a child that he can barely provide the basics for because he can't even provide the basics for himself.
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Under public demand, here's your aura farm Stanley, but I think he had a strong aura on the previous one too. So instead of aura, he's just showing his charms here.
It would be cool if Pinky and the Brain got a cameo in Coyote vs ACME. Cause after Wile E Coyote, they're like the second biggest victims of the ACME corporation.
germansingergirl
dailybridgerton
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