Youre Telling Me That A Scary Marlowe Arc With Manipulation, Presumably A LOT Of Whump, And Most Definitely

You’re telling me that a scary marlowe arc with manipulation, presumably a LOT of whump, and most definitely ending with a hug is NOT smth y’all want????

The Aftermath

“Come on, get up.”

Lark groaned and clasped the outstretched hand of g-man, his gun-buddy, the man he had done Fortnite dances with at prom while nick and marco laughed from the side Grant Wilson to pull himself up. He looked around slowly at his friends co-workers and made a mental note to take care of the definite concussion that he had. Grant was unloading and reloading his handgun, a nervous tick that had somehow become normalized over the years. TJ, the man who got drunk with him for the first time on the roof of DADDIES and took all the blame when darryl found them, the man that convinced him to be the Ryan to his Sharpay in bop to the top when they auditioned for mamma mia in high school Terry’s glasses were broken in both lenses somehow, and he was flexing his arm in the way that he had done ever since his elbow had gotten popped out of the socket, oh so many years ago.

Lark’s brother was sat on the stairs, twisting his ring and glaring at his shoelaces, for some reason, as if he wanted to ground them into next month. Lark couldn’t quite say he disagreed with the sentiment. The next time he saw his nephew, ooh boy. No more late night Uncle-Lark-Can’t-Sleep-And-You-Spend-Too-Much-Time-Hyperfixating-On-Random-Shit-So-We’re-Going-To-Get-Ice-Cream trips, that was for sure.

He was snapped out of his stewing by Grant lightly hitting him in the arm.

“What the hell even happened, man?”

Lark dragged a hand across his face. “Nick’s kid broke the glass on the Whale’s tank,” Sparrow and Terry’s heads both snapped to him. Lark winced. “And then I ran in, slipped, fell into the tank, and shattered it.”

Grant’s jaw was practically on the floor. “Holy shit dude, how are you even moving right now?”

Lark smirked. “Dunno, but what I do know is that I’m gonna kill that teenager.”

The walk to the parking lot was silent, none of them wanting to actually admit that they had gotten their asses handed to them by their own kids. Lark pushed the door open into the parking lot, sopping wet, sore, and pissed.

He locked onto the kids and opened his mouth, about to relish in the rare gift that was yelling obscenities and Sparrow not scolding him for it. However, his joy and anger vanished quickly and his mouth closed with an audible click.

From behind him, Lark vaguely heard Grant’s gun drop onto the pavement in surprise and Sparrow gasp out a “holy shit”. Then Terry let out an anguished sob and Lark thought that that about summed it up.

their captor, the mean one, the head purple robe, the one who forgot to feed them, the one that tried to kill their dads, the one that tried to kill “spare-ow” because having two backups was unnecessary, the one that gave him his first scar that even henry didn’t know about, ron’s deadbeat dad that tried to kill his own son, the one who killed a man in front of his nephew, the one manipulating terry’s daughter

Willy.

Willy Stampler was holding the headless body of the very sixteen-year-old that Lark had been planning to yell at until he was blue in the face. Like watching a train crash, he followed the trail of blood to Taylor Swift’s head at the feet of Scary Marlowe, who was gripping a net so tight that her knuckles were white. Her jeans were splattered with blood. She looked horrified, and mere seconds away from sobbing.

Normally Swallows-Oak-Garcia normie, norm, his nephew, his star, his kiddo, his ice cream partner, Teeny the Teen was shrieking nonsensically on the ground, his knees appearing to have given out entirely, and he pulled at his hair as tears streamed down his face.

Lincoln Li-Wilson link, his godson, the kid who he’d watched take his first steps, the kid who’d somehow gotten taller than him in the years that he’d been banned from the Li-Wilson household, in all of his six-foot-three glory, was glaring at Willy with an intensity that could’ve killed a man.

Lark wondered why he hadn’t jumped at the man already, and then saw the cause. He was supporting the small DC-obsessed kid, the one that had spent two months monologuing himself into identity crisis after identity crisis and also apparently had a crush on his nephew? who was leaning his entire body weight on the taller kid, face blank except for a few stray tears working their way down.

Willy looked bored. Taylor’s body thumped on the ground as he checked his watch. “Ugh. I really thought that this would be faster, huh kiddo? Guess some parents just don’t care.”

Scary Marlowe teresa, terry the third, terry jr jr, the emo one, mini-him, edgelord supreme, the one he somehow knew the least even though they had sat at the same table at the wedding squeaked.

Her fingers flew free from their fisted prisons and Lark could see both the indent of the netting and the bloody crescents from her nails etched into her palms.

The net dropped heavily onto Taylor’s head (Lark choked back the bile rising in his throat) and his stupid pork-pie hat tipped off and onto Scary’s shoes.

Normal had stopped shrieking and was full-on sobbing into the ground. And then Row, his better side, his beautiful half, his twin, his six-minutes-older brother, the man that had saved his life time over time, the man that had taken him in without a second thought when he realized that Lark was sleeping on the streets, Sparrow Oak-Garcia stepped forward. His foot caught on a loose piece of gravel and it skittered across the blacktop, catching the attention of everyone.

Lark managed to drag his eyes away from the decapitated child in front of him and lock them onto Sparrow as he addressed the children with what he hoped would be their saving grace.

“Would this be a bad time to say I told you so?”

Cough cough if you didn’t hate Glenn every time he betrayed the dads for seemingly no reason other than the joke/laziness, then get the manipulated, abandoned, traumatized teenage girl’s name out of your mouth, cough cough

Red (Taylor [Not That One]’s Version)

I posted this once but took it down bc I got cocky and wanted it to get more notes, but HERE WE GO!

furthering my Frenchie/Spanish Jackie agenda oop-

anyways he’s so fucking bi ace it hurts

they’re married for fun and it entirely consists of making out in closets, playing songs, and having drinking contests

Me: no I’d never wish pain upon my favorite characters! I love them! I want them to be happy!

Also me: come on Anthony come on COME ON BREAK HIM BREAK THE LITTLE ANIME BITCH JUST CRUSH HIS LITTLE SOUL GIVE HIM SELF ESTEEM ISSUES AND DADDY ISSUES AND LET HIM GET HURT EMOTIONALLY AND PHYSICALLY FREDDIE CANNOT KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH MAKING HIS CHARACTERS COOL IN THE FACE OF TRAUMA NO MATTER HOW FUNNY IT IS