what if your doppelganger loved being you more than you ever loved being yourself. they’re better at being you and everyone loves them and it feels almost selfish to want your life back. i want clone horror but the horror is that the thing trying to replace you is also the person you always wanted to be.
and it is imperative that it ends with killing the better version of yourself with your bare hands btw.
just thinking about Clark Kent growing up in a small town in Midwest America listening to bands like The Mighty Crabjoys but also Fall Out Boy, Paramore, Green Day, My Chemical Romance and so much more
“Every time I show the film – whether it’s to film students at USC or UCLA or I’m going to a festival – that’s always the first question: How did Kermit ride the bicycle? And my stock answer is: I put him on a three-wheeler until he got his balance, and then I put him on the two-wheeler.”
modern Scheherazade reciting summaries of Internet drama to the king
“And that,” said Scherezade, “Is why the saga of Thanfiction is second in fame only to the story of the Snapewives on the astral plane in early 2000’s internet fandom drama.”
Freshly interested, the king rubbed his eyes, fighting the pull of sleep. “The what on the astral plane?”
Scherezade’s eyebrows shot up. “Have you never heard of the Snapewives? Much has been said of their marriage, most of it cruel, but the real story is far more interesting and complex than most remember.”
“You must tell me,” he demanded, and Scherezade knew that she had once again caught him on her hook. All that remained was to reel him in.
“My king,” she said, arching her back in a dramatic yawn, “I cannot; the hour is late, and I am far too tired to do it justice. I am sure I would forget important details, with my mind so clouded with sleep!”
The king chewed his lip, still fighting a battle he had lost many nights before. “Very well,” he said. “We will sleep, and you will tell me about it tomorrow when you are rested.”
Scherezade smiled a secret smile and closed her eyes, safe for another night, already planning how best to bait the king into asking about the story of hivliving.
After his first wife wrote a callout post about him, the king became wrathful and misogynistic; each night he would take a new wife only to cancel her in the morning. When all the unproblematic maidens of eligible birth had been cancelled, the vizier’s own only unproblematic daughter, Scherezade, stepped forward and agreed to marry the king herself.
“…and although Fanlib had strong ties to the financiers of many fine troupes of entertainers, it is mostly forgotten today, because no sooner had it begun to settle than the dread Strikethrough swept through the community.”
“Strikethrough? What’s that?”
“My Lord, I would not want to bore you with the tale of Strikethrough; it was a matter of business activity, barely related to fandom at all–”
“No, please, tell me.”
“Ah, my thoughts have become muddled; I surely cannot recall it all correctly tonight. Perhaps on the morrow, with a fortifying mug of strong, dark drink–”
“Yes. Yes, in the morning, you will tell me about Strikethrough.”
Scherezade started setting up her mental timeline and pondered how many steps she could place between Strikethrough and Homestuck…
