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total-drama-takes-takes-2 · 9 months

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tta episode 2

“Last time on Total Takes Action: we welcomed fourteen campers back for a brand new season on an abandoned film lot here in Toronto, Canada! The first challenge of terror was making it to the trailers while facing five waves of torture in an apocalypse-themed episode- Frollo took the fall during a wave that should’ve been right up his alley, and Scary won for the Animation Anons. Who will win today? And who will be the first to get properly eliminated? Find out now, on Total! Takes! Action!”

---

BONNIE: “Well, so far, this blows. I’m not even sure if I want to win this thing. I mean, I did last season, then Caesar and Courtney… it sucked getting booted the way I did, but I kinda figured out that this really isn't worth the cash,”

---

The craft services tent is quiet this morning as the respective teams keep to themselves, just about everyone giving each other sideways glances and avoiding conversation. Even Bonnie and Caesar are silent as Caesar merrily hums to himself, drawing a portrait of his face on a napkin while Bonnie glares daggers in everyone else’s directions.

---

BONNIE: “But, if this show has taught me anything, it’s that everyone who’s not with you is against you. I’m not risking relying on everyone else’s goodwill not to get randomly kicked out again,”

---

“What’s stuck up their arse, am I right, baby?” Austin nudges Kelly. They giggle and share a deep kiss.

Scary rolls their eyes at the display and picks up their tray, moving around to Scruffy’s side of the table. Joner, McLovin, and Sha-Mod are all shoving each other around, giving each other noogies and wet willies. Joner flicks a bit of scrambled egg at McLovin, who stands in response, holding a spoonful of wet oatmeal. “Food fight!”

Scary stands, slamming their fists on the table and growling at the three. Their smiles drop and they sit back down in unison.

McLovin and Sha-Mod hold hands and go back to quietly talking, while Joner gives them a slightly uncomfortable look. He glances across the room to where Michela is sitting between O and Fren. She glares and he looks away, guilty.

O watches the display and turns to Michela. “You know, it’s not good to bottle up your emotions like that. My therapist- Dr. Anderson- says that stress can irreversibly damage your digestive track!”

Fren tries to scoop up a spoonful of the cement Chef served with the eggs and oatmeal. “Not sure I need stress for that,”

“Attention, campers! Or- should I say- players?” Chris’ voice chuckles over the intercom. “Meet me on the old west set in five!”

The campers give each other nervous glances.

---

Chris stands in front of a tall, mismatched set of wooden planks and ramps that Chef is still hammering together. The entire structure, resembling an apartment fire escape or a construction rafter, is cobbled together with planks of wood, metal sheets, tarp, and a variety of other materials. It sways in the wind.

“Today’s challenge is based on a relatively recent subgenre of movie- the video game adaptation!”

“Sweet!” McLovin and Sha-Mod say in unison.

“Y-yeah, sweet!” Joner says out of sync, weakly pumping his fist. Michela rolls her eyes.

O raises an eyebrow and rubs his chin. “I try not to play too many violent games anymore- Dr. Anderson says it can negatively affect the brain- but if I had to guess… this is-”

“Ah!” Chris holds out a finger. “We don’t have the rights to actually say the game names. This is the first part of our challenge- I call it Dolphin King!”

Peter looks up at the top of the structure, where an intern zips up a large monkey suit. “If this is a dolphin game, why is everyone dressed like-”

“SHUSH!” Chris hisses. “Dolphin King!”

Peter winces as if Chris is about to lunge for his throat. Scary rolls her eyes. Kelly and Austin giggle behind her, feeding each other toast from the craft services tent.

“Your goal is to reach the top of this platform without getting hit by any of these barrels. If you get knocked off the ramps, you have to start from the bottom. First team up wins a special advantage for the next part of the challenge,” he chuckles. “Ready? Set? Play!”

Scary cartwheels over to the start and goes first, Fren, O, Bonnie, and Caesar not far behind.

Joner glances at McLovin and Sha-Mod. “Friendship cuffs?” he grins, holding up his bracelet.

“Uh… actually, we talked about it last night, and we don’t think the cuffs are a good idea anymore,” Sha-Mod says.

McLovin sucks in his breath and nods. “Yeahhh. We’re actually gonna take this one alone, if that’s cool with you,”

Joner forces a smile. “Y-yeah. That’s fine! You guys need your alone time, right? Romance and all that…”

“Thanks for understanding!” McLovin shouts as they start off.

Joner sighs, his shoulders slouching as O screams in terror and falls off the platform, landing behind him. Michela passes by, tying her parka around her waist. Joner watches her as if he wants to say something, but he lets her go.

---

JONER: “I’m always happy for my friends, honest! It’s just that… after a year of third-wheeling behind McLovin and Michael, having to do the same exact thing but with Sha-Mod is… tough. I was really hoping we could all be friends, but… I get romance is more important,”

---

Peter, Standing beside Kelly and Austin, pulls a picture out of his shirt pocket and smiles.

Kelly and Austin pause their make out session to leer over his shoulder. “Who’s the bird, mate?”

“Ooh, I love her hair!” Kelly chips. Peter nods.

“This is my girlfriend! I carry her picture with me for good luck,” he says merrily.

Scary yelps from above and is thrown off the platform, landing on their feet with a huff.

---

SCARY: “Luck isn’t real. Someone here is obviously a little rusty in their chaos theory 101,”

---

Scruffy stands at the base of the platform, biting their nails and looking up. Scary runs past, doing a backflip over a barrel. “What’s up?” they ask as Scruffy inches along the platform, as far to the edge as manageable.

“N-nothing!” they insist.

---

SCRUFFY: “Okay, so, maybe I was expecting these challenges to be the same as the original TDA. How was I supposed to know the team was getting creative?!”

---

Fren runs alongside Peter, shoving barrels off the platform as they roll down rather than dodging them. “I got your back!” he yells. Peter gives him a grateful look before a barrel flies down, taking him straight off the platform.

McLovin and Sha-Mod do perfect jumps over every incoming obstacle, laughing merrily. They fist bump right as a flaming barrel soars overhead, ducking just in time for it to nail Fren behind them.

“Jeez!” McLovin yells.

Sha-Mod helps him up. “Yeah, I don’t remember this in the original game,”

“Oh, there’s a lot more of that coming!” Chris shouts into his megaphone.

McLovin and Sha-Mod run up, reaching the top of the platform. Scary cartwheels up seconds later, and Scruffy follows, covering their eyes. They take their hands off their face and sigh in relief. “I made it!”

“Come on, Kelly!” McLovin shouts.

“Go, Austin!” McLovin yells after.

“Joner, get your ass up here NOW!” Scary screams.

Bonnie and Caesar reach the top, the latter trying to pat out a fire on the former’s hoodie sleeve. Fren, holding Peter’s wrist, drags him to the top and everyone cheers. He drops Peter to the floor for a quick pose.

---

FREN: "People love me. Online, I have my own subfandom called the Frendom. I'm basically their god which is... a little weird to think about. But I might as well soak up that attention like a sponge while it's good,"

---

“JONER!” Scary yells.

“A-almost there!” he cups his mouth to yell back as a barrel with dynamite strapped to the side flies past him, blowing up a portion of the platform behind him. Michela jumps over the gap, but O, right behind her, falls to the bottom. She sighs, slowing before turning around and running back down to get him.

“Come on, guys!” Bonnie yells. “Let’s get this over with!”

“Working on it!” Michela yells, hoisting O on her back. She starts running up the platform again, huffing.

“You don’t need to work yourself too hard, you know,” O says casually. “You can always ask for help.”

“Whatever,”

---

O: “I’ve decided to take on Michela as my own personal project. After my time with Dr. Anderson, I’ve decided that my future is in therapy- and who better to test my skills on than the most emotionally tormented person here!”

---

Kelly and Austin reach the top of the platform, holding hands. Scary groans as they start making out again. “Don’t you two have a personality outside of each other?”

“Nope!” They say merrily. Scary rolls their eyes.

Scruffy nudges her. “Next boot for sure,”

“Come on, Joner!” McLovin shouts as Michela and O catch up to their teammate.

The race to the end is tense, but as Joner looks at Michela glaring back at him, he pushes himself forward and passes the finish line, winning for the team.

“And the Animation Anons win the first leg!” Chris says. “As a reward, and for your next challenge, you get these- night vision goggles!”

The Fujoshis look at each other nervously.

---

The teams stand before a door leading to a dark building.

“I’m sure you all remember the hunter and deer competition from last season!” Chris says. “This is like that- but in the dark! I call this challenge Puck-Guy!”

Chef walks between the teams, passing out different colored ponchos.

“Half of your team will be the ghouls, and their job will be to hunt the Puck-Guys,” Chris explains. “Whichever team has the most surviving Puck-Guys wins the challenge, and today’s episode.”

Michela, Caesar, and O look at their pink, blue, and orange ponchos, and Kelly, Austin, and McLovin stare at theirs.

“RIght groovy, baby!” Austin beams, throwing the clothing over his head. “Pink is my color!”

“And blue is so mine!” Kelly chirps. The two stare at each other for a moment before making out again.

“We’re so dead,” Scary sighs. “McLovin, this is on you.”

McLovin swallows nervously. Sha-Mod pats him on the back. “You got this, babe,”

“Yeah, you got this!” Joner laughs nervously. Michela rolls her eyes.

---

MICHELA: "Everyone knows that McLovin is a terrible shot. Despite being Mr. Lovable back home, no one can deny he shoots a gun like he's blindfolded and being attacked by raccoons,"

---

“Puck-Guys, you get a five minute head start. Ready?”

Scary, Scruffy, Joner, and Sha-Mod adjust their night vision goggles.

“Go!”

The designated huntees run inside, leaving only six players out. O turns to Michela as she loads her paintball gun.

“Thinking about anything in particular?” he asks.

She shrugs. “Sucks that McLovin isn’t a deer- Puck-Guy, whatever. So I’m going for Joner first,”

“Have you considered talking about your feelings with Joner and McLovin?”

She gives him a weird look.

Chris fires off a gun, forcing everyone to cover their ears. “Go!”

The hunters run inside, Caesar in the lead. He comes to an abrupt stop. “Um, is this-”

“A maze? You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Michela sighs. “Come on, let’s split.”

“I’ll stick with Michela,” O puts a hand on her shoulder and she raises an eyebrow at him.

Caesar shrugs and jogs off in the opposite direction, squinting in the dark. McLovin stands in the entrance, adjusting the settings on his goggles while Kelly and Austin’s pairs are tossed to the side as they make out.

“Gear up,” McLovin says, turning to them. They don’t budge. He takes a deep breath and puffs out his chest. “Alright. It’s on me!”

He runs into the maze, leaving the two making out at the entrance.

“Did you say something?” Kelly asks, turning. “Oh. I guess the game started.”

“Let’s crush this, baby yeah!” Austin loads his gun.

---

Peter walks through the maze, a few feet behind Bonnie. Every time they stop, her stops, too. Every time they turn, he turns as well.

Bonnie finally sighs. “Are you lost?”

He shakes his head.

“Listen, following me around like a lost puppy makes us a huge target. Split up!”

---

BONNIE: “Maybe I can do this team some good by knocking some sense into their heads,"

---

Scruffy and Scary walk through the dark, scanning their surroundings with the goggles.

“These are neat. High quality?” Scruffy asks, tapping the side of theirs.

“Doubt it. When I worked for Chris, I did a lot of receipt filing. He buys in bulk,”

A creaking around the corner catches their attention. The two pause, backing up a bit. Suddenly, a figure jumps around the corner and a slew of paintballs fires, dousing the both of them in green paint.

“Hey!” Scary yells. “We’re on your team, idiot!”

“Oops,” McLovin says. “It’s hard to tell with this thing on my face.”

Scary grumbles.

---

Michela and O stalk through the maze, guns loaded.

"So, when Joner took McLovin’s side over yours, that must’ve been tough, huh?” O whispers. “You can talk about it with me, you know. I’m bound by law not to tell anyone unless you’re a danger to yourself or others.”

“What?” she hisses.

“I’m just saying, your feelings are safe with me!”

“What’s your damage, dude?”

They turn a corner and gasp. Michela jogs to the end of the hall and picks up the goggles that Kelly and Austin abandoned on the ground. “What idiot-” she grins. “Nevermind. Let’s win this thing.”

---

Bonnie turns a corner and walks up to a dead end. They sigh. “This is so dumb. I should find Caesar,”

Suddenly, a paintball flies past their ear and hits the wall behind them. They gasp and duck as more fire, but it’s too late- Kelly and Austin turn the corner and grin, high-fiving.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Bonnie sighs, swiping the green paint off their hoodie.

---

Scary and Scruffy sit against the wall, talking quietly. Before they can even realize what’s going on, a slew of blue paintballs cover the drying green stains on their clothing. Michela and O run past, high-fiving as well.

Joner follows, trudging by while he drips blue. “You too, huh?”

Scary rolls her eyes.

---

“Okay, this is fun,” O says, reloading his gun.

“Now you’re getting it!” Michela grins. “Not every problem can be solved with that fancy therapy talk. Not everyone is a words person. Some of us like action.”

She holds up her gun and fires three times, hitting the exact center of an air duct each shot. O whistles. “You got some good aim,”

“Never shot a gun before, huh?”

The two start walking again, adjusting their goggles.

“Nah, I grew up in the city out west. Almost no one has a gun,”

“Can’t even imagine,” Michela shakes her head. “Where we’re from- me, Joner, and McLovin, I mean- everyone knows how to shoot by age eleven. Unless you’re McLovin. He has terrible aim.” she chuckles.

As if on cue, McLovin jumps out from around the corner and fires.

“Hey! We’re hunting, you jerk!” Michela yells.

O shoots him back, covering him in blue. “Take that!”

“Go, O! Get him!”

McLovin’s smile drops and he turns and runs, Michela and O in close pursuit.

They run down the hall, laughing as they fire at his back. They turn the corner and McLovin crashes into Sha-Mod, sending them both to the ground. Michela and O high-five and shoot them both.

“And the Fujoshis win!” Chris’ voice blares over the maze’s hidden speakers. “Anons- I’ll see you at the ceremony tonight!”

---

“Anons- this awards ceremony marks a historic occasion. This is TTA’s first ever elimination… and the lucky loser will go down in history as the lamest loser to ever lose! Let’s see… Sha-Mod,”

Chris tosses him a gilded Chris statue. He ducks, and it smushes against the row behind him, dripping brown. “Please tell me that’s chocolate,”

“It’s chocolate,” Scruffy says nonchalantly. "Unless... that's different, too?"

“Scary and Scruffy,”

“Kelly and Austin,”

Joner and McLovin glance at each other nervously.

“McLovin- your poor aim and nonexistent critical thinking skills cost your team the win. Hell, Kelly and Austin weren’t even wearing goggles and they got more shots than you!” Chris says. McLovin frowns. “And Joner, you almost lost the first leg of the challenge for your team- however, only one of you is going home. And that person… is…”

The team watches them nervously.

“McLovin. You’re out, dude,”

McLovin sighs and stands, his head hanging. Joner breathes a sigh of relief, then looks guilty. “Sorry, dude!”

“It’s fine! I had a good run,” he says, walking to the carpet of shame. He turns one last time to wave goodbye to Sha-Mod. “Goodnight, sweet prince.”

Kelly and Austin aw.

“Oh, brother,” Scary grumbles.

“Who will be shot next? And who will be doing the shooting? Find out next time, on Total! Takes! Action!”

#tta #total takes action

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theshijlegacy · 2 years

Photo

Old vs. New UI

(forgive my wacky edited bits & boxes, had to cover up mails in the first shot and then make the second match)

This is my #1 complaint with 7.0 (so far). The bright blue outline of every occupied toolbar space is incredibly distracting, making it very hard to focus on what I’m doing, especially in dimly lit areas. And it makes the buttons look square - even though I don’t think they are - which looks odd in a way I can’t quite describe, but adds to the “off” feeling of the whole thing.

I didn’t mind seeing different-colored outlines on the buttons containing items I dragged to the toolbars, since that differentiated them from actual abilities. (Those outlines are also brighter, but only slightly. Still not great but not as bad as the rest.)

The UI editor gave us the option to disable the backgrounds on all the toolbars so we could lose the dark blue background and have give all the buttons a sort of “floating” effect with the gray outlines - which I love the look of. And now we have the stupid bright blue outlines either way.

Even the text on the clock, stronghold toolbar, and character/companion portraits looks too bright - the font and shadow/bloom area remained the same size, but changing the color of the text and shadow/bloom from pale blue on medium blue to white on black makes it stick out too much. Same issue for the Edit Mode button, even though all that got was a shadow/bloom color change from medium green to black. (The effect looks a lot like when I’ve tried to use an image editor to sharpen something but went a little too far.) The shadow/bloom of the text for % Completion, health, and energy actually is lighter and makes their corresponding bars seem brighter as well.

Multiply these complains x100 for the Inventory window.

I don’t want a “sleek, modern” interface. It doesn’t fit this game. I’m OK with having it as a choice for those who want/need a high contrast UI, but PLEASE BW give us an option resembling the old look! The UI is there 90%+ of the time and should be something that fits in seamlessly with the gameplay, not something that distracts from it.

I’ve been subscribed continuously since launch (for the pedants, it’s actually been since day 1 of early access), and this is the first time I’ve been bummed at the idea of playing SWTOR. Some past changes I’ve been less than excited about, or less than thrilled with, but I’ve never felt this sense of DREAD when I think about logging in.

(Seems a bit ridiculous when I type it all out, but I’ve put a lot of time into this game and such visually unappealing changes are really ruining my experience.)

#swtor #swtor 7.0

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

Same anon thank you for answering my question! I was wondering if you could do headcanons for MTMTE Rung, Megatron, Rodimus, Minimus, and Swerve with an Artisic human reader that just sees the good and creative artist side of everything? From books to pictures to even their own bot? Like they can just look at their bot and go out on a whole rant on how beautiful their optics are from the color to their expression. if that’s too many characters you can take any one, I don’t mind! Thank you and have a good day ❤️

You're welcome! I'm always open for clarification, so feel free to ask questions about whatever you'd like if you're unsure on anything. I took a little liberty with this one, but I've got all the requested bots because darn it all these beautiful mechs deserve recognition!

Rung

·He discovers your artistic inclination thanks to years of experience reading personalities and emotions at a glance, but he wasn't prepared for the depth of your conviction in seeing the world through a creative lens, which he learned upon speaking to you about your process as an artist. This surprise grows as he sees you sketching around the ship, your exuberance for the inherent beauty in everything coming through in every conversation you share.

·When he praises some of your sketches on a quiet day in his office and is compelled to ask how you developed your style, he's fascinated by your explanation, and his spark is warmed by how beautifully you describe the world around you and credit it for inspiring you. He's visibly shocked when your list of current subjects and muses includes him specifically, and you can't help but chuckle at the usually calm bot looking so absolutely flustered. There's no way for him to hide any of that feeling when he requests a bit of clarification; there's hundreds of bots on board, what about him could possibly stand out?

·You're happy to elaborate on your process to a bot who so regularly underestimates his worth and lay out why he in particular piques your interest. The warmth and goodness of his being is such a rare and beautiful thing, you explain, but also so rarely appreciated that it drives you to try and capture that essence in a manner one can see. How could you not? Such compassion and empathy and forgiveness should be remembered! You've also seen that he's capable of accepting any genuine apology, and to have that level of mercy after so much war is beautiful, enough that you have to try and show it.

·To say he's touched is an understatement of unfathomable proportions. Removing his lenses to clear optics blurred with tears, he doesn't even know how to begin processing your praise of his character when you add that his physical self hardly fails to encourage you either. His glasses nearly slip from his hands when he hears you say that. You continue quite easily; the kindness in his optics and the sweetness of his smile, combined with his genuinely handsome profile, simply inspire you to start sketching.

·He's touched, but you have to understand, he is NOT accustomed to this level of praise. Between the near tears and the blushing he has to politely excuse himself to recover from this absolute tsunami of emotions, but being flustered and melted at once is enough to have him smiling through a little blush all day long. While he tries to take a little bit of your mindset into his everyday life going forward, he gets a bit dazed every time he sees a sketch of yours that includes his face, as that level of artistic devotion being dedicated to him is more than he'll ever be able to process. Not that he minds...

Megatron

·Being more familiar with the written word, he enjoys the arts but has little experience with those who create them, and time has not been on his side in regards to learning more. Thus, you're one of the first artistically inclined individuals he's been able to discuss the topic with, which he was motivated to do after catching a glimpse of your work. He could swear some of your sketches bear a resemblance to him, but he says nothing on the matter and is certain his optics are tricking him.

·Your talk of technique quickly surprises him by shifting to inspiration, which to you is the primary driving force of your work, as it influences how you go about conveying the subject matter. Eager to share what you mean, you explain that anything can have beauty worthy of capturing if you just take the time to look at it right. Even the most mundane or seemingly unappealing things can be remarkable if you know their story, and you want to convey that energy as wordlessly as possible.

·A little overwhelmed but quite impressed by your manner of reasoning, he rather jokingly asks if even beings like himself could ever inspire you, or perhaps another artist with your mindset. He's caught off gaurd like never before when you, quite enthusiastically, reply that he most certainly can and does! To keep his composure he recalls portraits of his likeness being commissioned to inspire his soldiers, but never believing these fell under the category of art so much as they did propaganda. They often depicted him quite... violently as well.

·Having never seen these pieces, you reply that your own experience is tied more to how you see him now, and you flip through your sketchbook to demonstrate. As close to your level as can be, he's speechless while you explain what you wanted to capture about him in each sketch, whether it's a quick study or a detailed project; and that's how safe he makes you feel. Hearing himself referred to as a protector cuts straight through his powerful armor.

·You depict him looking almost... gentle? Hearing you describe the his immense size as a source of comfort and his strength as a tool of keeping peace processes about as clearly to him as a foreign language, but he nods along and keeps the conversation going until his duties call him away. Though he says nothing of it, he volunteers himself for more of the physically demanding work around the ship. His body's purpose had always been decided for him, but you've reminded him he has the only true say in its use, and that everything really is a matter of perspective. Perhaps he'll take up sketching once this is all over.

Rodimus

·He's certainly always had an appreciation for visual appeal, even if his idea of beauty doesn't often overlap with what most would consider artistically valuable. This and his natural alertness makes him quick to notice you often sketch about the ship, frequently when he's present, but at first he leaves you alone to work in peace. Having a hobby on this crew is beyond valuable, and he doesn't want to distract you from a passion... That is, until he decides on one especially slow day to just ask you what you like to doodle about.

·You can tell he wants to be a little nosy, if only because he's naturally a curious bot about these things, but you're more than happy to share regardless. There's a lot due to the ample downtime on the quest, and he has to squint so he can properly scan the many sketches on the human sized paper. He happily recognizes friends, locales about the ship, even earth things he knows about... but he's not ready when he finds a picture of himself.

·While he remains outwardly playful, teasing you with how he'd pose if you only asked, he's internally flattered that you took the time to draw him. More specifically, he's touched by the way you drew him. The sketches and portraits portray him as a calm but amicable leader, standing tall and serving as a guide to those around him, a true "father to his men" kind of bot... it's everything he wants to be, but is quite certain he's not. He's barely able to keep up his smooth persona when he asks about your process.

·You explain that you find inspiration in everything, but he's been your chosen subject lately for a lot of reasons. It's no secret he's handsome, but you see something more when you look at him, and you did everything you could to show it here; there's a real leader in him. Maybe some bots don't see it under all the bluster and sarcasm, but you see how much he cares for every bot on his crew. He wants to be the best for all of them, and even if he struggles at times, that effort is beautiful to you.

·It takes everything in him to bite back some very embarrassing tears, and the crack in his voice doesn't help him hide the emotion, though he covers that up with unconvincing coughs and claims something got in his optic. From then on he seems to stand a little taller and find his assigned duties a little easier to bear, but you absolutely notice how he poses in what he believes to be heroic fashion whenever your sketchbook comes out. Inspired by his enthusiasm, you invite him to model more officially, and the crew is just happy to see him so enthusiastic.

Minimus

·Being as observant as he is, your consistent appraisal of your surroundings is not something he'd ever miss, but your frequent sketching in the most random places does leave him absolutely mystified. Every time he sees you there's artistic supplies on your person, but he can't find anything that appears to be worthy of putting to paper, so what could you be drawing? He respects your privacy too much, and feels too silly about his curiosity, to interpret and ask you for an explanation.

·Thus it's with some small eagerness that he finds one of your sketchbooks after it's been misplaced, and he sees the perfect opportunity to slip in a question. For the sake of handling something so tiny, he approaches without his armor, offering the lost item back with barely concealed pride at your delight to have it returned. In the moment of truth he nearly falters, but does indeed manage to ask what you draw around the ship. He leaves out the fact that he's observed you whenever you draw in his presence.

·The question has an answer only he seems to think isn't obvious; him! You spend time together frequently, and while everything is fair game for sketching, he's a very regular subject for you. Whether he's wearing the Magnus armor or not, you explain that the commanding aura he radiates is something you can't help but find beautiful. That word choice baffles him enough that he has to interrupt; beautiful? Commanding? Even without his armor?? You're delighted to assure him that you absolutely mean that.

·Hearing you describe the details of your reasoning, like the quiet dignity of his stance or the calm intelligence of his red optics, touches his spark in ways he wasn't expecting. He's calm and speaks softly as he keeps the conversation going, asking questions about your various works and listening attentively when you answer, processing your view of the universe as being packed with beauty in all the places people don't think to look.

·Any bot that sees him during the remainder of the day absolutely notices the change to his entire demeanor; namely that he's smiling a soft and barely perceptible smile. It's not long after he requests a few sketches from you to keep in his office, whether they're of him or not, and he has them framed in places of honor. He doesn't tell you, but you figure it out, that one particular drawing of him you gift for his sake is kept securely stored in a compartment by his spark.

Swerve

·Many bots may see him being a tad bit on the shallow side when it comes to the arts, but our beloved barkeep has his own unique appreciation for creativity and all the ways it can be visually expressed, and you recognize it not long after meeting him. As his bar is a frequent hangout for everyone, you find it to be a fantastic place to sit and sketch, as the variety of bots makes it quite easy to have your choice of subjects even if you have to sit on a table. Obviously Swerve notices and asks you what you're drawing when traffic slows one evening.

·You're happy to show him your work and he's always eager to hear what everyone is up to, so he starts asking questions about your art in general. How long have you been an artist? What's it like suddenly having a whole ship of aliens to sketch? Why draw here all the time? At that query you light up brilliantly, and he's delighted by your enthusiasm as you describe all the incredible sights the bar has to offer.

·You list some of your favorite things to draw, like the many friend groups on the ship that gather here, the brilliant colors of the glowing vats of enjex, and him smiling and rushing with orders through it all. That last one gets a flash of surprise from behind his visor, which is quickly overtaken by exuberant delight; you've been drawing him?! He babbles out a surge of confusing statements that you're eventually able to interpret as a request to see, just one he's too bashful to say directly.

·Happily obliging, you're touched by how he smiles at every little sketch, and feel compelled to explain that he's a big part of why you love drawing here. You try to see beauty in everything, even what often gets overlooked, and there's so very much of that here. The bar is one of those places that everyone knows is special, but you know he's the reason they love it like they do, and that his enthusiasm and hard work hold it all together. You find that inspiring, and actually quite beautiful. It doesn't hurt that his brilliant smile is always a treat to sketch.

·Trying to play it cool and totally failing, he doesn't quite hide that he's near to tears when he asks if you'd like to hang some of your work up in the bar, or maybe have a little corner for yourself to draw from. He just doesn't want you getting squished while you sketch, is all! And having a better vantage point is ideal for someone so small! When you accept, he gives you your own human sized accommodations not too far from the heart of the bar, and every so often when you sketch he'll glance up at you absolutely beaming.

#transformers #more than meets the eye #mtmte #idw #lost light #maccadam #tf #rung #megatron #minimus ambus #rodimus #swerve #self insert #human reader #requests #anon #my writing #transformers headcanon #my asks

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sitp-recs · 3 years

Text

I never expected to be tagged in this game but the lovely @the-starryknight was generous enough to mention my reclists and at the risk of sounding pretentious I will accept this kind invitation! Thank you for thinking of me 💜

I wanna tag each and every creator on this hellsite but I know some of you already did the thing (pls ignore if that’s the case!) so I’ll tag @bixgirl1, @lqtraintracks, @the-sinking-ship, @shealwaysreads, @prolix- @dracoladon, @cibeewastaken, @veelawings, @p1013, @lazywonderlvnd, @l0vegl0wsinthedark, @maesterchill, @slytherco, @drarrytrash, @quicksilvermaid, @fluxweeed, @magpiefngrl, @punk-rock-yuppie, @andithiel, @phd-mama, @xx-thedarklord-xx, @lettersbyelise, @teacup-tai, @tinyhistory, @writcraft, @ohdrarry and anyone else who’d like to do it! No pressure whatsoever, of course :)

Top 5 of 2020

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (ish) favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

1. 1k milestone celebration: I like this series because it was a statement. I’m really proud of myself for coming up with a mix of drabbles and self-indulgent recs on that week - not only I got to spread love for fics usually overlooked because of their length, I also established my blog as a safe space for all kinds of ships and kinks, which has always been my priority due to previous fandom experiences. Knowing that authors feel seen and appreciated for fics that aren’t mentioned often (if at all) is so rewarding. Hopefully this has inspired everyone else to adopt DL;DR and kinktomato in their fandom lives, as well as encouraged both authors and readers to indulge themselves more often 🙌🏼

2. Drarry for Beginners: I’ve always been a bit hesitant about making anything resembling an ultimate/must-read/classics reclist. I’ve been in the fandom for a long time but there’s so much I haven’t/won’t read and to me, reccing is still something extremely personal. I’d hate to think someone feels like they should read everything I put on my lists, because they limit the fandom and bend it to my personal tastes. It’s only a small portrait that doesn’t convey how big and diverse the Drarry universe is. That being said, I’ve received some generous and wonderful feedback about this project which makes me so very happy and relieved because I’ve worked really hard on it. I tried to put myself on a newcomer’s shoes at all times, and made sure to include different takes and styles - in fact, I selected some popular tropes then set some ground rules hoping to avoid the trap of only reccing my favorite stuff. I’m thrilled to know it’s actually helping people navigate this huge wonderful fandom, that’s all I could ask for 🙌🏼

3. Smutty reclist: another self-indulgent little thing I did recently. It was a bit insane to put all those lists together and publish two per day but I’ve had so much fun doing it! I’m quite proud of myself for accepting that I wouldn’t be able to write reviews for each fic, and understanding it would be okay, they would still be personal and special. I also like that I decided to make this something more “me” - I brushed BDSM aside and included fics with Blaise and the Weasleys because I’ve been into them lately - and the fact that people still enjoyed it was really nice :)

4. Old gems reclist: I loved this one because it was super fun to track all those old goodies down. I’m a nostalgic hoe in general and this list made me look back at the 00s with fondness and think of my “first loves” back when I was starting to read works in English. I keep telling myself I’m gonna revisit some of them when I have time but ughh they’re all ass-long epics and where’s the time to properly enjoy it 😭

5. Finally, my fave single recs! I’m particularly proud of the one I did for Modern Love - after reading the fic I thought it would be impossible to put my incoherent thoughts into words but in the end the process was pretty smooth. I knew right away what I wanted to use as the banner motif (which is usually the hardest part because I’m a pretentious shit when it comes to those) and from there everything felt so natural! I was thrilled to know one of my all-time favorite reads was written by my friend @tackytigerfic and somehow that excitement made writing down my thoughts so much easier because for once I was writing them for Tacky and not the readers. It’s one of the most emotional recs I’ve ever written and hopefully it resonated with other people! I also have a soft spot for my rec for That Old Black Magic by @bixgirl1, which I did back when my blog was still a smol baby and my commentaries were way shorter with less rambling lol. That banner is my ultimate fave, I find it so pretty and I think it captures the mood I was going for, evoking the ending’s gentle atmosphere.

#top 5 2020 #meme tag #thank you the-starrynight 💗#drarry

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Silent Treatment

A drabble not for @lokislastlove

Warning: some arguing, nonconsent sex, threats of violence, biting.

It was almost amusing how long it took him to catch on.

Certainly, Thor had noticed that you were avoiding him, that the bulk of your time in Asgard had been spent with his brother rather than him. You knew it would bother him. Eventually. And you hoped he felt the same way you did.

Was it silly to feel so hurt? Well, how else should you feel. The two-minute video sent you into a tailspin of anger but you’d already arrived and you weren’t quite sure what to say. So you said nothing. You graced Thor with a shrug or the occasional nod but you just couldn’t give much more.

You wouldn’t be so embarrassed if you hadn’t been sent the clip personally. Several friends made you aware of his little flirtation which was now being broadcast everywhere. Headlines called the God of Thunder ‘sweet’ and ‘cute’. You just thought he was ridiculous.

It made you wonder if for the last year he’d just been telling you what you wanted to like he had that girl. Sure, it was just an interview and tried to convince yourself he was merely playing the PR game but why had he kissed her hand like that? Why had he called her ‘sweetheart’?

Sooner or later you would have to say something. Anything. But for now, you were going to let Thor think you would rather listen to Loki expound on how he tricked his own brother into a cave full of giant bats. The idea of a young prince being so easily deceived was amusing, but when it was revealed it had been well beyond Thor’s childhood, it was almost pitiful.

You walked with Loki through the halls, passing the tall pillars, and admiring the extravagant portraits of the Asgardian elite. On earth, no one lived like that anymore. It was more selfies and those dumb wall signs that read ‘live, laugh, love’.

Then you saw the shadow. You had thought you’d spotted him before but weren’t entirely sure. Loki’s green eyes flicked behind you and his little smirk betrayed his own awareness. Thor was attempting to eavesdrop but wasn’t very stealthy.

The dark-haired prince stopped you by a portrait of a mystical creature which resembled an elephant but had porcelain like skin.

“My father saw the last of these beasts,” Loki said as he gestured to the painting. “I always thought it a tragedy. So regal. But they weren’t anything you could tame. Not like...” He glanced towards the far end of the corridor and touched your shoulder. “Some.”

You realised what he was doing. For as conspicious as Thor was, you were just as bad. Surely Loki knew why you insisted on his presence but he didn’t mind being a tool if it was against his brother.

He leaned in and lowered his voice so only you could hear.

“Whatever he did, he probably deserves this,” Loki winked and kissed your cheek.

“Loki!” Thor’s voice boomed around the stone columns and his boots echoed at his advance. “Away from her!”

Loki stood straight but stayed close to you as Thor stormed towards him. You stepped between them and stopped Thor from accosting his brother. He reached past you but you caught his arm.

“Thor,” You said calmly. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I saw what he was doing!” Thor snarled.

“You were spying on us?” You asked.

“He kissed you!” Thor snapped.

“On the cheek. It was only friendly.” You insisted. “You think I would betray you?”

“I don’t know what you would you do, you’ve not talked to me since your arrival.” Thor retorted.

“Do not worry about her, brother, worry about me,” Loki taunted.

You held back a laugh as Thor’s face contorted with anger and Loki smoothly dodged another grab as you lost hold of his arm.

“Thor,” You pulled him back by his hand. “Let him go.”

“Yes, brother, you should attend to your affairs before mine,” Loki teased. “Or yours shall become mine.”

“Enough,” You warned Loki and he smirked.

He turned and strode away as Thor fumed next to you. When he was gone, you looked to the blond Asgardian and shook your head.

“What is this about?” He asked. “Why do you spurn me? I thought we--”

“I thought we were good too, Thor,” You interjected. “And then I see you hanging off some woman in Times Square.”

“I--” His eyes searched. “It was only an interview. I was having fun.”

“It wasn’t fun for me to see. Did you ever think of that?”

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” He shrugged.

“And all this time I was ignoring you, you never asked me what was wrong.” You said.

“I suppose I didn’t, but you also didn’t tell me.” He returned.

“Don’t do that,” You huffed. “Don’t you think that was inappropriate?”

“It wasn’t real,” He insisted.

“So I don’t get an apology?” You asked.

“What about Loki?” He countered.

“What about him? He kissed my cheek, I didn’t kiss his,” You said. :But if you are upset then I am sorry.”

Thor was silent and looked down. You waited. Nothing.

“You’re not going to apologize?” You asked again.

“I don’t see a reason for it. I was being friendly.”

“Oh?”

“And you weren’t there.”

“I wasn’t there? So what does that mean? That you can do whatever you want?”

“I am a king so yeah,” He scoffed.

Your mouth fell open and you threw your hands up. You backed away from him and shook your head.

“I wanna go home.”

“You haven’t even spent a moment with me and all you do is argue,” He said. “You haven’t given me a chance to make up for it.”

“You won’t even say sorry,” You accused. “What else can you do to make it up?”

“You’re not going anywhere. No one leaves or enters Asgard without my say.”

“I’ll find a way out,” You turned away.

“Loki won’t help you,” Thor was quick and pulled you back by your arm. “I won’t let him and he’s not that type.”

“And what are you then?” You tried to wrench away and he caught your other arm.

“I’m yours,” His voice deepened dangerously. “And you’re mine. That’s what you said.”

“Thor, let me go.” You pushed on his chest.

“No,” He said evenly. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m telling you to. What is wrong with you?”

“You have ignored me for the last week,” He marched you backwards as he spoke sternly, “I have welcomed you to my home, my kingdom, and you’ve treated me like nothing more than air.” You hit the wall harshly. “And you thought you could me jealous by using Loki? I’m not that stupid.”

“Thor--”

“I brought you here because I wanted you to see my home. Your home.” He said tersely. “Because I love you and no one can change that.”

“Please--”

“And know I do love you and if I do stray, I still will, but every wife must accept that they cannot change the nature of man. The nature of a god.” He held you to the wall as he leaned in. “I will take what I want when I want it.”

“Get off--”

He crashed his lips into yours roughly. You grabbed at his chest frantically, almost suffocated by his kiss. You bit down and he pulled away suddenly. He pinned you to the wall with an arm across your shoulders as he touched his lip. You hadn’t broken the skin.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” He snarled and grabbed the front of you jeans. “You must understand that by now.”

He pulled hard on the denim and the button came of as the zipped split. He leaned his weight on you as he forced the pants down past your hips. You kicked out and he easily blocked you. He stomped your foot and brought his large hand to your cheek, resting it there.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” He said. “So don’t make me.”

You quivered and his hand crept back down your body. Your panties were nothing to him as he tore them away. He placed his foot in the crotch of your jeans and forced them down the rest of the way. He freed one of your feet and grabbed your leg. He bent it against him and kissed you again.

His arm left your chest and went around you. He held you to him as he devoured you. You turned your head away from him and he growled. His arm fell lower and he lifted you. He balanced you between his body and the wall as he reached down between you.

His movements grew impatient as you struggled against him. You grabbed onto his arm and tried to wriggle your leg free of his grasp.

“You liked it before,” He purred as his fingers brushed your cunt. “Don’t act so innocent.”

“Please, Thor--”

“You want to play the silence game, we’ll play,” He grabbed his cock and rubbed it along your pussy. “Don’t make a fucking sound.”

He pushed himself back to your entrance and you voice fizzled as he sheathed himself in you. You were breathless as he filled you entirely. He was big and you weren’t used to taking him so suddenly, sometimes not even all of him. You clamped your lips shut before you could cry out and he hummed as he leaned against you.

He rested his head against the wall next to yours and his hand slipped down to your ass. He began to thrust, long, deliberate jerks that made your entire body ache. You let out little whimpers as he rutted against you, your arms pinned between your bodies.

“Shhh,” He hushed you as he nuzzled your neck.

He didn’t let up as the clapping of his flesh echoed down the airy corridors and his grunts interspersed the lascivious noise. You lifted your chin as your eyes rolled back in a mixture of pain and unexpected pleasure. His teeth grazed your neck and sank into your skin as he growled.

He jolted your body violently as his voice rose and his motion grew frantic. Your back was sore from the stone wall behind you and your arms were starting to buzz from being crushed against him. You let out shaky breaths as he gave several violent thrust and peaked with beastly grunt.

He stilled but kept you trapped between him and the stone. His breath lingered on your skin and he slowly lifted his head. He cradled your cheek and kissed your forehead gently.

“I do prefer it more when you’re loud.” He purred.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #dark thor x reader #dark!thor x reader #drabble #but kinda long #mcu #marvel #dark!drabble #dark drabble

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kitkat1003 · 3 years

Text

Hearth, Home, War, and Politics. For Kids!

Chapter 2: Prologue Part 2

It’s time to take back what Salazar stole from them.

That is, if they don’t fall apart on the way there.

AO3 Link

@asilcorner

The room erupts into a frenzy.

“We’re WHAT?” Yakko hears Dot shout. Dr. Scratchansniff is muttering in German, Hello Nurse is shouting, maybe screaming in shock, Wakko has his hands over his ears.

Yakko takes a deep breath.

“HEY!” he stomps his foot on the ground, hard, and his shout makes the room go silent. He rarely has to get that loud—in fact, he hates doing so, because it freaks out everyone around him. It had to be done, though.

“You have the resemblance—how did I not see it?” Dr. Scratchansniff puts a hand to his mouth in shock, and then goes pale. “I operated on the princess—oh no, this is the not good, I...,” he trails off, and Hello Nurse helps him to a chair.

“I don’t see what her status has to do with your quality of care, Doc. What, you fix up poor people worse than royalty?” Yakko says it more nonchalant than anything else, but his eyes sharpen at the thought. Would he—?

Dr. Scratchansniff frantically shakes his head, and Yakko shrugs.

“See, no harm no foul,” he turns, to the guard.

“And, uh, thanks for the heads up, but I don’t know what you expect us to do about that. Last time I checked, fourteen year-olds can’t overthrow the government,” because he would have loved to kick King Salazar off of his high and mighty throne, but keeping his sibs safe always came first.

“We’re gonna stage a coup, man,” The guard says it in a hushed whisper. “Most of guards are sick of that guy—and I found the old royal portrait, and now that they know, they want Salazar out of here, man,” Yakko knows why the guard is whispering—if Plotz in the other room hears, if any of Salazar’s supporters hear, they’re done for.

“What do you want us to do about it?” Yakko crosses his arms over his chest.

He sees Wakko kneel down and pick up the dropped coin out of the corner of his eye, and when Wakko goes to grab it Yakko notices his hands are shaking. Yakko knows a lot about his sibs. Wakko hasn’t been scared enough to be that shaky before.

“We need you to be there, man. We can do the fighting, but a kingdom needs its rulers, man.”

Yakko feels a headache coming on. If he hears man one more time—“Just….stop.” He raises a hand and rubs his temples. “When is this happening?”

“Within a week” is the reply, and Yakko turns to Dr. Scratchansniff.

“When can Dot be moved out of the hospital?” He needs these pieces to figure out a plan. God, and here he thought they could have a semblance of normalcy for two seconds. What a joke.

“Um,” Dr. Scratchansniff seems put off guard by the question, fumbling for an answer. “I think she should staying overnight, but after that she can go home.”

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath, stands up straight. The world settles on his shoulders, like it always does, and he deals with its weight like he always does. For a moment, the whole room can see him in a crown, the crest of the warnestock family emblazoned on his chest. Maybe it’s less because he was born royalty and more because he’s grown used to caring for his family as if they were his kingdom. Maybe it’s muscle memory.

He points to the guard. “Wherever you need us to go, we’ll leave tomorrow when Dot’s able. Now,” he sighs, trailing off and waving a hand at every adult in the room. “Can everyone just-just give us some space?”

It takes a few moments for the words to register, but Hello Nurse helps Dr. Scratchansniff up, and leads the guard to the door.

“Let us know if you need anything, sweetheart,” she says, and then they all leave.

Yakko collapses into a chair.

What a mess.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot is reeling through the entire conversation, as Yakko deals with all the adults that are vying for their attention. She feels a bit guilty, but she’s once again too tired and weak to do anything herself, and if Yakko’s good at anything, it’s leading a conversation in a desired direction.

But there’s something wriggling in the back of her mind, asYakko talks. Because she thinks back on the expression Yakko had on his face, when he heard they were royalty. It wasn’t surprise. Shock, at the admission, but not surprise. And he took the news quickly, moved on quicker, took charge of the situation. She knows that part of it is probably because he felt the compulsion to, the need to.

But also...it makes her think. Because Yakko, despite their poor social standing, always had them hold their heads high. He always had them believe they were better than how they were treated, and maybe that was just him wanting them to not think of themselves as nothing, but it could be something else. Because they’re the Warners, they command the space, they always take charge, pull the town into musical numbers, and being leaders has always felt right.

She watches him slump into the chair, looking exhausted beyond belief, and a part of her just wants to let him sit. She isn’t cruel, she doesn’t want to see Yakko stressed.

But she’s also ten, and curious, and confused, and Yakko knows more than he’s letting on. And that part of her, that needs to know, makes her open her mouth and push.

“You didn’t look surprised,” she says, and Yakko looks up.

“What?” Clearly, he’s off his game, because if he was on it he would have a snappy comeback ready the moment the sentence left her mouth.

“About us being royalty. You didn’t look surprised.” Wakko looks at her in confusion, but Dot doesn’t feel like backing down.

That’s her issue, she knows. She never backs down from a fight. Never knows when to let something go.

“I mean, you’re the mouth of this family, but even you ought to have been speechless, right?” She can see Yakko’s eyes narrow, before he shrugs with a nonchalant grin.

“Nah. I got a quip for everything.” She puffs up her cheeks in frustration at his deflection.

“Yakko,” she growls out.

“What?”

“You knew!” It’s shouted with a vitriol that makes Wakko take a step back from her bedside, confused and worried.

“Knew what?”

“You knew we were royalty!”

Wakko blinks in surprise, Yakko flinches like he was struck, and Dot trembles in her bed. Her chest hurts. She shouldn’t be yelling yet, doesn’t have the breath for it.

“And?” Yakko squares his shoulders, like he’s getting ready for a fight, and Dot hates that he feels the need to defend himself from her, but he knew, he knew and he didn’t tell them.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” It comes out more pained than angry, and Yakko deflates at her tone.

“There was no point,” he sounds so defeated.

“No point? We-we could’ve-we—” she tries to argue, never one to back down, but then Yakko looks up at her with a fire in his eyes that scares her.

“We could have what? Staged a coup? Yeah, that would have gone over well. Let’s us, a six year old, three year old, and two year old go up to the man who killed our parents and ask him to give us the throne back. Right? Because Salazar seems so charitable,” The way he’s saying it, she knows this has been on his mind for a long time. That for—for 8 years—he knew for 8 years, and he could only swallow the injustice as he kept them safe.

What did that do to him? How much did that hurt?

“Mom and Dad told me to keep you two safe.” He says it like a mantra, like the thought has been repeating for years in his head.

And for a moment, Dot hates her parents. How could they task Yakko with that, how could they place that responsibility on his shoulders, how could they do this to him, make him think that all that mattered was her and Wakko, and not himself? What kind of parents are they, to teach Yakko to forget that he’s important, too?

“I took care of you—or at least, tried to.” He runs a hand through his fur, mussing up his cowlick.

His voice sounds so self deprecating that she wants to strangle him. His whole body is a bit puffed up, she realizes. He must have been so stressed out it made his fur fluff, to make him bigger, to make him more intimidating. Because she made him feel like he needed to be.

Her and her big mouth.

“It’s okay,” Wakko speaks up. “I get it.”

“Sorry,” Dot manages, because there are a million things she wants to say, there is a world of fury she wants to unleash, but those things aren’t for Yakko to hear. She wants to tear the world the pieces, find whatever deity decided to give them the life they have, to give Yakko the life he’s dealt with. She wants things to be fair. “It’s just—”

“It’s a lot,” Wakko finishes for her, an expression on his face very familiar. She can recall it from when she would hide a cough, when she would feign being healthy for a day. That facade in service of stopping concern from taking root in those around you. His hands are hidden, she notes, and he has this look in his eyes, like when you place your hand in front of the sun and the streaks of light still burst through the spaces between your fingers.

Like he’s covering up something. Did he learn that from Yakko?

When did her brothers start hiding so much from her?

“But hey, we’re gonna go back to the castle, right? You think they’ll have a royal chef there?” Wakko changes the subject with ease, tongue lolling out of his mouth with a grin, and he definitely got that from Yakko.

Yakko doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he does, too tired to care. He huffs out a laugh that’s more wet than humorous, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, arms propping his head up. He wipes his eyes and leans back, against the wall.

“Last time I remember being there, you sure gave the royal kitchens a run for their money with how much you ate,” Wakko beams at the comment, and Yakko seems to relax, now that he’s not thinking about the logistics of it all.

Dot can play this game, too.

“You think they’ll give me a new dress?”

Yakko opens his mouth, to regale her with another piece of near forgotten trivia, and Dot listens, letting Yakko forget just for a moment everything he’s been through, all the things he’s done.

Banter is always a distraction. She files away that information, and decides to be the perfect distraction, whenever Yakko needs her to be.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They have dinner, a few hours after the guard leaves. Yakko tells enough jokes and stories to make Dot cry with laughter, and Wakko’s tail wags so fast it’s practically a blur. He settles them into bed a few hours after that, opting for the chair because the hospital bed is just a bit too small for three.

He expected Dot to be angry. She backed down quicker than expected, though. He hadn’t meant to get so snappy, but he’s exhausted and he doesn’t want to have to explain himself to anyone. He did what was best for them, always. Knowing would have just made them despair, mourn the life they didn’t even remember. Without the comparison, their lives didn’t seem so bad, right? Why give them that wake up call?

He stretches, yawning, and heads towards the back door. He needs to collect their things if they’re leaving tomorrow morning, and the quicker he gets it done the sooner he stops worrying about it.

A hand grabbing his own stops him.

He turns, and Wakko is standing there, looking as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“Where are you going?” Wakko looks...there’s something off about his gaze. Yakko can’t decipher it. Whatever it is, it isn’t good. Yakko files that away and aims to figure it out when he has the time.

“Gonna go get all our stuff from the house,” and isn’t that a joke, calling the abandoned orphanage a house. “Since we’re moving and all that.”

“Can I get it?” Yakko blinks at the question, which is why Wakko seems to stumble over explanations. “It’s cold—I have my sweater—”

“And no pants. I got pants and no sweater. What’s the logic there?” Yakko interrupts. “Besides, I need you to stay back here and keep an eye on Dot. Don’t want anything to go wrong while I’m out.”

“I—” There’s a flicker of that something, something that Yakko can recall seeing earlier. When Wakko came back from his year long work trek, the day before, even. Fear? He can see Wakko’s tail curled around his one leg, a sign of anxiety, but he doesn’t understand. Since when was Wakko nervous about keeping Dot safe? He always took a shine to that, proud that Yakko would trust him with such a responsibility.

“Okay,” and just like that, the fear is gone, like someone had taken the crudely drawn etch-a-sketch that is his brother and shaken it to clear the slate. It’s startling. When did his brother learn to do that?

Why would he need to?

“I’ll be back quick,” he assures.

Wakko nods, that simple, dumb look on his face that Yakko thinks for a moment is real. Wakko can be a bit oblivious, and you can see it on his face, but this. This isn’t that. And it frightens Yakko, more than he can articulate, that he almost thought it was.

He disappears out the door, watching Wakko walk over to Dot’s bedside over his shoulder as the door swings shut.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko doesn’t have the time to be upset when he finds out who their parents are.

Everyone starts shouting, and the sounds fade into the crashing noise of tumbling rocks, the world crumbling around him as the ground shakes. He covers his ears and almost cowers, and he can hear the rock above him, cracking off of the ceiling, and Sir is shouting something, and—

Yakko’s yell snaps him out of it, and he is a tensely coiled spring of something as Yakko talks. Honestly, he doesn’t hear most of it. There’s a dull ringing in his ears that blurs the sounds around him into white noise. The adults leave, and it goes quiet, and for a moment Wakko feels like he can breathe.

And then Dot gets upset.

Wakko doesn’t blame her. If he had the time, he might be angry too. They’re not supposed to have secrets, not between each other, but Wakko’s a hypocrite so he doesn’t have anything to say.

He speaks up when Dot fumbles. Is this how Yakko feels, when he needs to talk his way out of a situation? It’s terrifying. You don’t know if what you said is gonna work until a moment after you let the words go, and that one moment is pure adrenaline.

Maybe it gets easier when you’re better at it. Wakko wouldn’t know.

Scratchy brings them dinner with small cups of his newest recipe of his elixir on the side, a few hours after all the adults clear out. It makes Dot hiccup, and Wakko lets out a belch that rattles the walls and startles a laugh out of Yakko. The food is soup, warm broth with potatoes and meat that forces the chill from their limbs, and Wakko can’t help but be grateful.

Scratchy isn’t so bad, for an adult. But he’s still one. So there’s that.

And then, in the night when they’re supposed to be sleeping, Yakko leaves. He has to get their stuff, and he’s going to leave Wakko alone, with Dot, as if Wakko could keep her safe. Wakko can’t do anything, certainly not keep his sister safe! He couldn’t even keep himself safe, he got Sir killed, he can’t keep her safe.

But Yakko goes, anyway, and Wakko sits beside her bed and doesn’t let the idea of rest cross his mind. His eyes dart towards any of the entrances to the room, vigilant.

He’s a prince, he realizes. The thought is...it comes to him unbidden, and he tries to imagine it. Him, a prince. Tasked with helping keep a kingdom safe, its people safe.

He’s already failed, and he didn’t even know it.

He laughs, quietly to himself, and wipes his tears before Yakko’s back to see.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Dot is discharged. She’s practically glowing with joy, jumping out of bed before she stumbles a bit.

“I would not do the jumping, ja? You need to still be careful.” Dr. Scratchansniff’s hand is gentle against her back, but Yakko pulls her away anyway, keeping her close to him. Dr. Scratchansniff seems surprised at the action, glancing over at Yakko in confusion, but Yakko narrows his eyes and shrugs, nonchalant.

Wakko is quiet as always, chewing on the lollipop stick that once held a lollipop. Hello Nurse gave it to him, so now of the two adults here, she’s his favorite.

“Be careful, you three,” Hello Nurse waves them goodbye, and Wakko laughs.

“Never are!” Yakko returns with that trademark grin.

They meet the guard at the edge of town. He has a caravan, and there’s another guard who’s driving it. He ushers them inside, hidden from the world.

Yakko has his claws out. Wakko notices it only because one of Yakko’s gloves is missing a finger, so it’s easy to see. But Yakko has his claws out, something he’s never seen Yakko do. Toons don’t like to use their more...animalistic features unless it’s funny or if they’re in grave danger. Wakko guesses that Yakko is adhering to the latter.

He keeps them out as they sit in the caravan, and as they depart. Wakko doesn’t think he’s ever seen Yakko so tense before.

“What’s the plan?” Dot asks.

“There are some guys—they support Salazar, man,” the guard explains. “We got numbers, but still. So we’re gonna fight them, and you’re gonna show up and kick Salazar out when he’s all alone, man.” What a plan. Very detailed.

“You do realize he killed our parents, right?” Yakko’s voice is quiet, even dark. “I don’t think we’re going to be exactly prepared to kick him out ourselves.”

“Dot’s still recovering,” Wakko adds.

“He won because he cheated, man. Had Dip and everything—” Yakko flinches at the mention of it. “But we got it locked down, man. He won’t be able to do anything. It’s performative, man. You have to take back your kingdom.”

There’s a question on Wakko’s tongue. He wants to know how exactly his parents died, which is stupid, because the answer will only hurt. But doesn’t the absence of knowledge hurt too? He can certainly make a guess. Everyone knows what Dip is, it was outlawed in all the lands for its torturous properties.

It’s acid for toons. Strips them down, layer by layer, from color to line to sketch to paper to nothing.

A part of him wants to know for sure. Wonders if Yakko was there to see.

He glances over at Yakko, and by the expression on his face, likely not. There’s grim realization, not recognition. A small mercy, he thinks. Yakko doesn’t get many of those.

“Well, I think we can handle it,” Dot pipes up. She’s holding Yakko’s hand, running her fingers over his claws. Yakko doesn’t so much as twitch a finger, worried of hurting her.

As if he’d ever.

“I guess we have our vote of confidence there,” Yakko chuckles. “Wakko?”

Wakko shrugs.

“Why not?” he doesn’t have a lot of strong feelings on the matter. “What have we got to lose, really? And it sounds easy.”

Sounds, at least. Wakko isn’t sure how easy it will really be.

“Guess we’re in, then.” Yakko puts his arm around Wakko’s shoulders and pulls him close. He still has his claws out.

The rest of the trip is relatively silent.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They arrive at the castle in higher spirits. Yakko spends the last ten or so minutes of the ride cracking jokes that have Dot giggling up a storm, and even Wakko has to break eventually. He’s curled in on himself, laughing before they’re shushed as they reach the castle gates.

“Cargo delivery,” The guard driving the caravan says to the gate guard. Yakko thinks he sees the two share a look, a wink, and then they’re moved on through. They’re brought around to the back of the castle, into the loading area, and are ushered out into the castle.

“We’re going to the servant’s quarters,” The guard whispers, and Yakko keeps his sibs in front of him. If they’re gonna be double crossed, they’ll have to go through him, first.

They’re brought into a small room, with a bed and dresser.

“This one is empty. It’s not being used since Salazar fired a bunch of the servants,” They’re told.

“Fired them? Why?” Dot asks.

“Were they too flammable?” Wakko pipes up. Yakko snickers.

“He’s been on a short fuse since the wishing star, man. One wrong step and you’re toast.”

Yakko snorts at the phrasing.

“You’re making this too easy for us,” he snarks.

The guard blinks, bewildered. Yakko sighs.

“Soooo, do we just wait here until you guys holler, or...?” Yakko crosses his arms over his chest and looks on expectantly.

“Yeah-uh-I’ll come get you,” the guard fumbles over his words and plans, and Yakko raises a brow.

“Alright.” He shrugs, and leads his sibs to the bed. “It’s nap time, then.”

After the guard leaves, they settle on the bed. Dot is out quick, snoring softly as she leans against him, and Yakko supposes the trip must have taken more out of her than she let on. She is still recovering from surgery, she’ll probably be tired for the rest of the week. He makes a note not to throw her into many extravagant activities if he can, at least until she’s recovered her strength.

Wakko...well, it sounds like he’s asleep, but he isn’t doing the thing where his legs kick and twitch, and his arms barely move. Every part of him is tense and still, even as he snores, and Yakko can’t imagine why Wakko would fake sleeping. Wakko likes sleeping. Who doesn’t?

He wants to stay up until he feels Wakko actually rest, but he’s more tired than he wants to admit, and his eyes slide shut without him meaning them to, worried thoughts carrying him off to a fitful rest.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko knows he should sleep. He's exhausted. It's a feeling deep down into his bones, this tiredness, because it’s more than just being tired, of staying up too late, of working too hard all in one day.

He hasn’t been sleeping well enough even when he does, and there’s a constant thrum of anxiety that sits in his chest, makes his heart stutter with every unexpected event, and as time goes on unexpected events become the expected. He’s so exhausted by being awake, but his dreams don’t leave him feeling rested either, so he just can’t win.

At the very least, Yakko has put away his claws, fallen asleep. He and Dot are safe and resting, and Wakko can be their guard. Dot’s been sick for so long, and Yakko’s been protecting them since forever, so Wakko can pick up the slack. He always has, regardless of what he wanted or needed. He just needs a good meal and smiles on the faces of his siblings, not in that order.

Wakko watches the stars, and hums a tune under his breath.

“Wishing star, so bright and true, our world has changed since meeting you,” he whispers with just enough melody to be called a song. “So many things are happening. Don’t know what it all is so I just sing,” he sits up, gentle enough that he doesn’t jostle Yakko awake.

“Is this all really my dream? We’re back home but what does that mean?” he fidgets with the sleeves of his sweater, starting up another verse.

“Wishing star, so bright and clear, was it a mistake to come back here? In a world we’ve never known, told it’s time to take our throne,” he’s a prince, he’s in charge, and yet.

“Wishing star, can I believe? This is where I deserve to be...” He trails off, light of the moon shining against his face, casting his shadow on his siblings and the bed behind him.

Time moves slow, and he just stares at the countryside, waiting.

There’s a crash from above, and he jumps, tumbling off of the bed. Yakko shoots up as if he were spring-loaded, and he frantically looks around for Wakko, pawing around the bed for him until Wakko pops back up from the floor.

Dot is up a moment later, rubbing her eyes and clinging to Yakko as if he’s her teddy bear.

There’s a knock on the door, and Yakko motions for Wakko to get behind him.

Wakko doesn’t move.

The ever familiar guard—they really ought to learn his name at some point—pops his head in, looking haggard and sweaty. Wakko doesn’t miss the smear of blood on his sword.

“C’mon,” There’s no time for ‘man’ apparently, as he motions them to the door, and Yakko’s claws are out again.

Wakko lets out his own, so he can be just as formidable.

They disappear into the night.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The flickering of the torches in the hallway add to the eerie atmosphere, and not one of the 3 children trust that they’re being brought to anywhere besides a trap. Wakko’s mallet is out, and Dot has her mace, strong enough to lift it so it doesn’t scrape against the floor. All Yakko has are his words and his claws, and he keeps himself in front of his siblings as a shield.

They pass by a body that doesn’t move, or breathe. They don’t know whose side the soldier was on.

“We have the throne room surrounded, man,” the guard whispers, and his breaths are harried. His hands are shaking, and they would be worried for him if they had the energy or time to worry about anything else besides each other.

They can’t waste their time on other people, emotionally or physically, not when everyone else is out to get them. That doesn’t mean they want everyone to be in pain, to suffer, on the contrary. They just aren’t going to make an effort to help everyone else when they can barely help themselves. They still try, and Wakko’s desire to use his money to help the town as much as to help themselves is proof of that, but they have to stay distant, because people leave. People backstab. People lie.

People kill.

“Well, sibs,” Yakko breathes as they head to the throne room back door, “Ready to take back our throne?”

Dot’s grin is feral, her fur sharp enough to cut as it fluffs up, and Wakko’s hat has never looked more intimidating as it lengthens his shadow.

“We were born ready,” Dot says, and they head in.

Salazar is on his throne, seemingly unaware of the assault upon his guards, though he does take note of the sound of the door opening and closing behind him.

“Finally, a servant competent to check on me. Being a King is not easy work,” his condescending complaint grates their ears.

“Oh Salzy~!” They cheer, and Salazar jumps out of the throne—it’s not his, it’s theirs, doesn’t matter if they don’t feel like it is yet because they’ve staked a claim and they will fight for it—turning on the dime and backing away from their voices.

“Sally?” Yakko hops onto the throne, hand under his chin, his brow raised as if in a silent question.

“Sandra?” Dot pops up on Salazar’s side, and the monarch yelps, stumbling back.

He trips over Wakko’s leg.

“Salisbury?” Wakko adds, and at the thought of it starts to drool. “...Steak...”

“Salacious?” Yakko tries.

“Salamander?” Dot pipes up, her and Wakko closing in, weapons raised. Salazar crab walks backwards until his back hits the wall.

“Sacrilegious?” Wakko taps Salazar’s foot with his mallet, as if testing his aim.

“That outfit, maybe,” Dot sneers. “Whoever your royal tailor is, fire them.”

“Hey, don’t put someone out of a job like that. Besides, if Saltine’s taste is anything to go by, it’s probably his fault,” Yakko sprawls out on the throne, as if he was born to sit there.

Well, he was. Funny how that works.

“It’s Salazar you-y-you miscreants!” Finally, Salazar finds his voice, and the three turn away from their conversation with each other to stare at him with gazes that shut him up quick.

“Honestly, Salarts, your name is the least important thing here,” Dot puts her hands on her hips.

“I think being deposed is probably more important, Saltana,” Wakko shrugs.

“Deposed?!” Salazar all but shrieks. Yakko snickers.

“Surprise!” He throws his hands out and grins. “Thanks for keeping the seat warm, Seesaw, but we’re taking it back. It is ours, after all,” Salazar pales at the reminder.

“What, did you think you could get away with it forever?” Dot rolls her eyes. “Men.”

“Your men are zilch,” Wakko sets his mallet on his shoulder, grinning with his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. “We made a few friends.”

“Turns out robbing a country blind doesn’t make you popular,” Yakko shrugs, as if it was a shock to him, too. “So, sorry not sorry, you’re arrested. Guards!”

On their cue, guards come out and surround Salazar, two grabbing him by the arms and forcing him to his feet.

“Traitors! I’ll have you beheaded!” Salazar kicks his feet and struggles.

Yakko looks on, bored, and Dot swings her mace up to hit where the sun don’t shine. Salazar lets out a whine that makes everyone else in the room wince, and goes still, knees scrunched up to his chest in pain.

“That’s for Yakko,” she tells him, because she knows she should be angrier about her parents, about the ones she never got to know, but she only has the one, now, and Salazar is the reason why Yakko never got to go to school, why Yakko worries about if they will be able to eat that day instead of if he’ll get in trouble for his room not being clean.

Wakko hops up and slams his mallet down on Salazar’s head. Salazar sees nothing but stars and says nothing that can be deciphered as language.

“Mom and Dad,” he says, simply, and then whispers another name she doesn’t catch.

“What should we do with him, your majesty?” One of the guards asks, eyes trained on Yakko.

It takes Yakko a minute to realize that they’re talking to him, of all people. He blinks, sits up. Your majesty, huh.

“To the dungeons, I guess. Do we have dungeons?” he looks over at Wakko and Dot, as if they would know. They both shrug.

“We have dungeons, sir,” another guard replies. Yakko nods, not really decisive, more just as an acknowledgement.

“Cool. Take him there, then.”

Salazar vanishes out the door, and Wakko and Dot scamper towards their eldest. They hop onto the armrests of the throne that seems too big for just one of them to sit in.

“We won,” Dot whispers, like saying it louder will break the illusion.

“That was easy,” Wakko nods to her statement, and Yakko laughs, but it sounds more exhausted than happy.

They sit like that, silent for a moment. The guards stare at them as if they aren’t sure what to think of them. And the Warners, they’re used to that. Being unknowns, being oddballs.

And yet they’re also being looked at as if they have power. Wisdom. Leadership skills? There’s so much that is expected of them now. Where do they even begin?

“What now?” Dot asks, and, like usual, Yakko finds himself being looked to for answers he doesn’t have. They’re royals now. Monarchs. In charge.

“Guess we get fitted for our crowns,” he replies, and they wait for the changes to come.

#animaniacs #yakko wakko and dot #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner #kitkat1003 #wakkos wish

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thecowardwrites · 4 years

Text

Fifty Shades of Gwaine Part One

Part One: The Meeting

Finally transferring over one of my favorite projects I’ve done so far!

Summary: You, a modest yet well known painter, have been commissioned by the legendary King Arthur to paint portraits of the royal court. (That being him, his queen, and his Knights of the Round Table.) With such a large workload, you’ll be working exclusively for the king for months on end. In your time in the palace, you get to know the knights and many of those who live within the city walls. One knight in particular, however, continuously draws your attention: A dark haired rebel with a good heart. Sir Gwaine is the perfect gentleman and you can’t help but get excited every time he looks in your direction.

Warnings: None

Words: 2.5k

You were a renowned artist across the five kingdoms: famous to the rich and noble, friend to those in need. Most of what you earned was sent to feed your family who was wedged deep in a lone village on the outskirts of Camelot. It was the least you could do, seeing as you were constantly traveling from place to place depending on where you were needed next.

You began selling landscape paintings in order to make a quick coin, and, eventually, a few more well-off families had asked you to make small portraits for them. From there, your name had been passed around many towns and a few nobles had taken notice of your ability. As time continued, you were more often commissioned to paint portraits for nobility.

You had seen your fair share of stuck up nobles who treated you with a kindness that was not nearly as kind as they tried to seem. Still, you took every job you were offered, and never refused anyone – no matter their social standing or income. Sure, you had been paid fifty gold coins for the portrait of a knight yet merely some cloth for a portrait of a farmer’s daughter; to you they were of equal importance. The poor deserved to remember each other just as much as the rich did.

Never before, though, had you been offered a task so important as the one requested of you now:

You were beyond ecstatic when you received a request from the king of Camelot himself to paint a few portraits of his knights and himself. Of course, you would be greatly compensated for the work (more so than ever before), but the request itself brought happiness to you and your family unparalleled to anything you’d ever felt before.

With a bounce in your step, you were strolling through Camelot’s gates a mere two days after receiving the letter. In your hurry, you had thrown together a single pack, filled with the brushes and paints you had managed to acquire through your travels, and a single red dress that would be worn on special occasions. That was the only article of clothing you could afford to bring with your limited space – aside from the work dress you were currently traveling in.

As you strolled through the streets of the city, you were in awe of the colorful stalls that lined the cobblestone road. Vibrant fabrics, fresh fruits, children playing and weaving through the crowd, it embodied a kingdom truly at peace. Your meandering, however, was cut short when a young child ran up to you and hid behind your legs.

“Well, hello,” You cooed at the young boy. His hair was a caramel brown and disheveled from playing. He looked as if he had barely turned seven, “What are you doing back there?”

You tried to turn around, but he was gripping your skirt so that he would move as you do.

“Don’t let him find me,” The child begged, and protective instincts began kicking in. If someone was after this child, you would not let them get anywhere near him.

“Who are you hiding from?” You ask, scanning the people in the surrounding area and trying to cover the boy up more. He poked his head out from behind you briefly, and pointed at a dark-haired man with stubble in chain mail and a red cape – A knight.

You nodded as the knight made eye contact with you and came your way, smiling with a bounce in his step.

“Excuse me, my lady, have you seen a young boy run by?” He asked, his voice deceitfully kind for someone after a child.

“I haven’t seen anyone,” You roll your shoulders back so that you were puffing out your chest in an attempt to make yourself look bigger and more serious.

“Are you sure?” His hands were clasped behind his back and he bounced on the balls of his feet. “I’m sure I saw him run this way; he’s always chasing the beauties of the city. And, my lady, I would definitely consider you a beauty.”

You looked at the cocky knight quizzically, “Did you check down that alley? I’m sure I saw someone darting down that way.” You were avoiding his flirtatious comment, only focused on the kid gripping your skirt.

The knight seemed to consider your offer, but a small giggle erupted from behind you.

“Ah,” The man smirked at you, “Yes you are right, maybe James went back to hide the treasure he stole from Ms. Seward’s kitchen in his hideout.”

He feigned walking away, which had you fooled for a moment. Your breath hitched – though – as he abruptly turned and, reaching around you, grabbed the child and swung him through the air. The blood roaring in your ears drowned out the two’s laughter, and you reacted by swiftly plucking James away from the knight and holding him in your arms.

“Are you so cruel as to hunt a child for petty thievery?” You cry out, holding him farther away from the knight. “If he stole food, he must need it. Let me pay for whatever it is that he took.”

The grin fell from the knight’s face, “What are you on about?”

“You-You’re trying to arrest the child for stealing, but this is a simple fix as I said I am willing to pay whatever the price is for his crime.” You jut your chin out defiantly at the man, and you watch as laughter bubbled from his lips.

“James what did you tell this woman?” He cackles, reaching for James, “Miss, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Well, then explain it to me before I just let you take him.” You refused to let him near James still, worried it was some ruse.

“James and I stole a pan of pastries from the head chef in the palace. The brat ran off with the last one that we were going to share-“ he sent a pointed look at James, “-and it turned into a game of hide and seek.”

You let out a quiet ‘ooh’ and set James down. The boy immediately skipped over to the knight, and you had to keep yourself from slapping yourself on the forehead. Of course, it was just a game, not every place is as corrupt as you previously observed.

“I do admire your protecting the kid, though.” The knight said as he extends and open palm to you, “I’m Gwaine, by the way.”

“Y/N,” You take his hand, and he presses a chaste kiss to your knuckle.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

James pretended to gag at the gesture and ran away from the scene, “Thanks for playing, Sir Gwaine, but I’ve got to go be somewhere less gross now!”

And with that he disappeared through the crowd.

“I’m sorry for assuming you were trying to arrest a seven-year-old.” You adjust the pack on your back and attempt to hide your embarrassment over the whole ordeal behind your hair. Your cheeks were surely tinted pink.

“It’s quite alright, Lady Y/N.” Gwaine bites his lip to hide a smile, “It’s good to know there’s someone looking after the tiny troublemakers.”

You let out a giggle at his response and begin to resume your trek towards the palace, “Someone has to.”

“I assume, by your response, that you’re somewhat of a troublemaker yourself.” Gwaine laughs as he falls into step with you, “Or, at least, a retired one.”

“Let’s just say I know a thing or two about escaping authority, so keep that in mind if you try anything funny.”

He chuckles and holds his hands up in surrender, “You have my word as a gentleman that I won’t try anything funny…

… Unless you want me to.” He leans in and whispers that last part to you. You are forced to quicken your pace so that he won’t see that the previously pink hue adorning your cheeks has gone to a bright red.

“No thank you,” Your voice is two octaves higher than it was before, “I am quite alright for now, now if you’ll excuse me –”

Basically, jogging at this point, you reach the palace much faster than you had anticipated. As you approach the entrance, you are met by King Arthur waiting with four knights by his side, as well as his wife and servant. You couldn’t help but be surprised that he would go to such lengths for a humble painter. You hardly had time to compose your heavy breathing before the king began descending down the stone stairs towards you. You dipped into a low curtsey as the queen followed, waiting for the two of them to address you before speaking.

“Welcome to Camelot, Lady Y/N.” King Arthur’s voice was warm and soothing, nothing like what you expected. You’ve heard that he was a kind and just king, but assumed you would be facing a drunken old man who was more positively ignorant than kind. To be fair, you had never been to Camelot before, and had never met anyone – aside from Gwaine now – from the great kingdom. You gathered what you could from other drunken rich men and assumed they were biased in their retellings. But no – the man who stood before you now held no resemblance to the other noble you had had the pleasure of working with.

“Your Highness,” You bowed your head, “I am truly honored to be at your service. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Yea, so you were kind of playing it up a bit for the king, but you learned that buttering up nobles made them tip a little more.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He smiled and it was blinding, “May I introduce you to my wife, Guinevere – she is a very big fan of your work. She’s positively obsessed with your landscapes.”

Queen Guinevere elbowed her husband in the side while grinning at you, “I’m not obsessed, though I will admit that I am a big fan. Your color schemes and brush details make the pictures seem more like realty than reality itself. I insisted that my husband commission you the moment he told me he needed to get some portraits done.”

You couldn’t help the enormous smile that broke out across your face. A queen was complimenting your paintings in such a way that your heart nearly burst with joy. “I thank you, my Lady. I am unbelievably ecstatic that you enjoy my work.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” She winked, “My praise does not fall on someone undeserving of it. I do hope we can become friends during your stay, though.”

It took a moment to wipe the shocked expression from your face. You had never been greeted with such humility into a place like this. Every smile seemed genuine, nothing like the ones that were faked by many noble members of society.

“Merlin will show you to your room, and I invite you to dine with the knights and I tonight so that you may get to know a few friendly faces and – Gwaine where have you been?” King Arthur clapped a hand on the knight’s shoulder as he approached him.

“I was caught up in the beautiful sights the city has to offer nowadays.” Gwaine replied, shooting a wink in your direction.

You looked away from the pair and took your time to observe the knights who were still waiting on the stairs. You tried to focus on them, but you couldn't help watching the king and Sir Gwaine from your peripheral.

“Well, I hope that view was worth organizing the armory and helping Merlin polish said armor before dinner tonight.” King Arthur beamed at the knight, who looked nonetheless pleased than he was earlier.

“Aye captain, whatever you say almighty King of Camelot.” Gwaine pat the king on the shoulder and bounded up the stairs into the palace. As he reached the doors, though, he turned and caught you watching him. You didn’t realize your eyes had fully strayed back to him, but you watched as his mouth quirked up slightly and he disappeared from your sight.

“Forgive me, Lady Y/N.” King Arthur apologized, coming to stand next to his wife once again, “As I was saying this would give you a chance to meet the mugs you will be painting beforehand.”

“That sounds like wonderful, Your Majesty,” You tear your eyes away from the door Gwaine disappeared through to smile at the king.

“Allow Merlin to take your bag, and, forgive me, but I must get ready for the feast and tend to an unruly knight.”

“Of course,” You chuckle and bow into a parting curtsey as the king returns the gesture before retreating into the castle with the knights in tow.

You turn towards the servant, Merlin, as he nervously introduces himself. “I’m Merlin, m’lady. I can take your bag and show you where you’ll be staying.”

You relinquish your hold on the bag and grinned at him, “Thank you, Merlin. You can call me Y/N, though. I’m not much of a lady.”

“You seem every part of a lady when you talk to Arthur and Gwen, though.” He said with a slight airier tone, and begins climbing the stairs.

“Isn’t that how you’re supposed to speak to a king and queen?” You ask as you follow him through the palace, trying to take note of the turns he’s taking so you don’t get lost when you’re walking through later.

“I don’t know,” Merlin admitted, laughing lightly, “If you ask Arthur, I’m the worst man-servant ever.”

“Yet, you haven’t been sacked, so he must like you.”

“It’s just because he knows he wouldn’t survive a single day without me,” Merlin stops at a wooden door and glances back at you, eyes twinkling with a joke you didn’t understand, “Here we are.”

As Merlin opens the door, you feel as if the oxygen has been sucked out of the air around you. It was much grander than any room you had ever been given before.

“This is amazing!” You squeal and run past Merlin into the room. The dark, oak bedframe looked elegant with white sheets and a table by an open window that was already covered in various paints, brushes, and canvases.

“The king and queen insisted on making sure you have every supply you could possibly need for the project.” Merlin informed you and you couldn’t help but beam at the table.

“This is more than I could ever need,” You sigh, dreamily.

“I think they felt bad asking you to do so many paintings all in one period. There’s the portraits of the five knights, the single portrait of the queen, the portrait of the king and queen, and then the larger painting with all the knights and the king and queen.” Merlin paused, “How long do you think you’ll be working on them?”

You calculated your answer, drawing from previous project times and prep time, before answering, “However long the king and queen allow me to, to be frank. It will take me nearly three months to finish all the portraits, another two months – maybe more – for the final painting. That’s not including time for a margin of error.”

“Well, Y/N, I look forward to getting to know you over the next few months. But, for now, I’ll let you get settled and ready for dinner.” And with that, he excused himself and slipped out the door as you turned to gawk at the new paints.

<><><><>

Next Part --->

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 86: The Madness of Mr. Crouch

Alice landed on what distinctly smelled like dirty clothes. She got confirmation of this fact by sitting up and a pair of used, and soiled trousers, slipping off her head.

"You alright Smith?" A slurred voice behind her understandably asked as she squealed in disgust and made a beeline for the ajar bathroom door. She barely paused to acknowledge it was Potter, shaking his head from a sizable lump, no telling what he'd smashed into upon their recent landing, as she slammed the door behind her and turned the shower on.

James blinked at the sight before he really took stock of it all and nodded to himself. They could all use a bit of that. He came across several more spare bedrooms in this place before finally finding another one that was deemed important enough to have an adjacent bathroom. He didn't waste much time himself before taking a proper shower and watching the ilk slowly go into the drain as he began to wonder where they'd landed this time.

Frank was still rubbing water, thankfully clean water now, from the nap of his neck as he took his own gander around this place and found himself in an immense library that answered that very question. It was practically the size of his home, but like nearly every room he'd come across it had a disturbed air about it. The books were all pulled off the shelves and scattered on the floor, some even ripped apart. In between every book case was yet another portrait of yet another Crouch.

He wasn't going to try the headache of asking any of them anything again of what could have been going on around here, and so ignored their tisking of the mess. The book he was looking for could have been in here, but he was much keener on finding Alice and Lily in this strange place, so he left the shambles and went off once more.

Lily rubbed her head as she took uncomfortably to her feet, using a hedge to keep her upright as she took in her surroundings of the great sweeping lawns. The hedges were becoming quickly overgrown, her mother would go spare for the sight. Whatever shape this one once had been certainly didn't resemble it anymore. The manor she found herself gazing at seemed in much better state. She wondered what kind of man would live in such a place and not take proper care of his property. She trudged through the grass, and stumbled to her knees in surprise. Yelping the Lumos spell at once for fear of anything at this point, she instead lit her wand tip upon a shoe.

Curiouser, and curiouser.

Making her way almost ghost-like through the shadows and the tall grass until she finally reached the gravel path, she found herself at the front door open for invitation. Hesitating and never particularly liking being alone recently, considering all the deadlier places they'd landed, she debated entering until she heard Pettigrew and Lupin's exasperated voices from just inside the door. At least they weren't screams of terror.

Ignoring the silver knocker in the shape of an eagle's head, she pushed it open wide and was in a grand parlor. It too was a mess.

A table was knocked over, a bottle of brandy long gone to waste. A high-back chair was nearly pushed into the fireplace's unlit grate, and beyond that was a set of stairs where Sirius Black was sitting, still bare-chested and looking almost bored with the proceedings of his two friends having a good laugh with each other.

An eagle owl was snapping its beak reproachfully at the pair, something tied to its leg, but neither of them were paying it any mind as they kept enchanting a pocket watch to hover in the air and letting it fall, the goal for the other to manage to get it to hover again before it hit the ground.

"I've found the book," Frank announced, hand in hand with Alice as he descended the stairs, the pair stepping around Sirius Black who didn't even look up at them, maybe lost in thought for the first time in his life. They spotted Lily still standing in the doorway, eying the betrayal of them looking decidedly cleaner than the mud she still sported and the new twigs likely caught in her hair.

"I'll wait until you've freshened up though," he concluded kindly.

"Much appreciated," she smiled in return, making her way upstairs to do just that.

Regulus was still running a towel through his hair and wondering how on Earth Sirius kept it so long, his was much shorter and it took forever to dry out, when Longbottom started the book. He startled a bit in the bathroom but thanked the fortuitous timing regardless, five minutes earlier and that would have been even weirder.

The Madness of Mr. Crouch? Was this possibly going to explain all of his odd behavior then? It would be nice to have a straight answer like a man going barmy for once, it would explain why he'd thrown his kid into Azkaban for doing something his mother had always insisted any sane pureblood would give their arm to do. Yet another odd juxtaposition of the world he'd never been privy to until all this, it seemed.

Alice sat cross-legged at Frank's feet, playing absently with his shoelaces as he read above her, wondering just as much as everyone else just how loony Crouch had always been. Apparently he couldn't keep his place together worth a damn without his elf, poor little Winky's deteriorating desinsion into freedom being once again highlighted as Harry gave the kitchens another visit.

The Marauders were still enjoying their little game, all four of them now with the extra challenge of avoiding spells from each other while keeping the pocket watch aloft. Lily was a step below her as she watched their game and tried to pretend otherwise, but it was either that or the wood paneling, so she wasn't hiding it well. Alice had never been in the Gryffindor dormitory on a normal day to guess as much, but she wondered if she always pretended to ignore them while they were up to their hijinxs and nobody had just ever seen otherwise. She never talked about her roommates really, and it's not like Snape would be up there to notice.

Nobody had seen the little Black yet, though it was a large manor, she still felt bad it didn't seem anyone was trying either. The times she and Frank had tried to chat with him he hadn't really been very forthcoming. Still, this place had an odd feeling about it, and someone should check on the lad. He'd been so quiet the past few places, she couldn't really recall him saying a word.

The moment she began getting up, Lily leapt to her feet right beside her ready to go. Maybe Alice had misjudged and she'd been fighting off the temptation to curse them instead of join them, it was surprisingly hard to tell with her.

"I'm going to have a poke around," she explained to Frank, who'd clearly been distracted by the story as he only looked up as she gave him a peck on the cheek and explanation.

"Oh," he stuttered in surprise, looking back down at the others and swallowing uncomfortably, already half closing the book, before he hesitated and glanced out the still open door instead. It was a half moon, Lupin was being the most lively of the bunch. Evidence of which, most texts had said, made him just as dangerous as a full moon for his energy could lead to a dangerous quarrel.

'One that led to hitting your mates with a curse to have them hanging in the air by their ankle apparently,' she snorted softly to herself as Black was effectively put out of the game for the moment while his mates laughed themselves silly.

Frank swallowed visibly, but then very obviously settled himself more comfortably on the carpeted step. "Alright love, I'm too curious to stop, you two have fun though."

She smiled brighter than the moon, giving him a more affectionate peck on the lips this time and running her hand through his hair as the two departed up the stairs.

"Anywhere in particular you want to have a look?" Lily asked pleasantly as they began traveling down the first hallway. "I found a ballroom a bit back, though I can't imagine the man was renowned for hosting parties."

"Think my Mum went to one actually, years ago," Alice agreed with a giggle. "She said his wife had been the life of the party and he spent the whole time boasting to his coworkers. Quite the surprising dancer though." She listened to Harry visiting the owlery by himself and watching from afar as Hagrid and Maxime had another interaction, a pleasant reprieve from anything death-defying recently, still leaving their current whereabouts and the chapter title all the stranger. She corrected the assumption though, "no, I actually had a goal in mind, I was thinking of looking for little Regulus Black. Haven't heard from him in awhile, and though nothing's attacked us in this place yet, I still thought I'd check on him."

"Oh," some of the enthusiasm dropped from Lily's face, and Alice couldn't blame her being weary of the lad. He'd been least friendly to her. She surprisingly picked herself right back up though and quickly hid that with a believable smile just as fast, "that's a really kind thought Alice, you're full of those. I really see where Neville gets it."

She blushed in surprise and had no comment for that.

They finally found him in the last room of the last wing, Alice couldn't help but think he'd sought the place out on purpose and the idea was reinforced when they saw the puckered look on his face as he inspected the room. The look didn't temper out much when he saw he had company, but his voice was cordial enough as he said hello.

Alice had seen as well as anyone how he'd been actively seeking out, even talking to Peter Pettigrew as of late. So maybe the kid was a little standoffish until he found some common ground, and she knew of at least one of those. "So, you think Crouch Jr. played Quidditch?"

This was the exact wrong thing to say apparently, Lily instantly deduced, as his uneasy frown turned into a full blown scowl.

"How the bloody hell should I know that, there's not a trace of the bloke in this whole house. Apparently he died the second he was shipped away to Azka-" he broke off and purposely turned his back on them.

"Oh, right," Alice finally said lamely to the dead silence that followed that. It wasn't hard to think for any extended time why the idea of Azkaban would bother him in particular for several reasons, his inevitable future being one, his brother winding up there being another obvious.

Lily's instinct kicked in though only moments later. "She was just trying to be nice, a lot more than you ever bother."

Both of them were briefly distracted by the book, Hermione being sent hate mail of all things and the poor girl having to go off to the hospital wing for it. They exchanged commiserating looks at the mess all around, finally turning to leave him to it as neither wanted to hear once more how much the mudblood probably deserved it, and missing the fact he watched them leave.

The two of them spent the rest of the chapter traversing the barren halls having a good chat about magical creatures they'd still like to see, those nifflers from Hagrid's lesson sounded adorable.

Remus finally let all three of his friends down and only preened in his victory for a few moments before he let himself get really distracted by the story, and Hermione swearing vengeance upon Skeeter. "I really hope she does it too," he nodded along, "that woman's caused enough trouble, and we can maybe even stop any of that before it starts."

"I'm game," Sirius hopped to his feet at once, then swayed dangerously, he had been upside-down the longest. Remus grabbed his arms to stop him face planting, not bothering to hide his resumed snickering at how flush his chest visibly was.

"What if someone even worse took her place though?" Peter asked as he shook out his legs, very much regretting letting himself get hit when he did, he'd thought Prongs couldn't have lasted that much longer! "Like, like someone who blackmails people to get stories instead of just making up-"

"One problem at a time," James rolled his eyes, very much repressing the spine tingling-feeling whisper that told him Peter didn't want to change the future- but obviously he did!

There was some interest piqued all around regardless at the last task being described by Bagman out on the Quidditch Pitch! Disgusted mutters, of course, for what they'd done to the place, but so long as it was put back right this maze sounded like an...interesting place, and the last one thankfully.

None of them were looking forward to being in there themselves, as was inevitable at this point, so they were as happy as anyone at the randomness of Krum pulling Harry aside, to talk about Hermione.

Peter giggled shrilly at the renowned Quidditch player thinking James's kid was any kind of romantic threat, even if Harry didn't like Hermione. He watched now as Prongs puffed up his chest in pride for the same and ruffled his hair, shouting loud enough for neighboring mansions to hear about his kid getting any lass he liked and able to beat that International player to boot.

There was something, off about it though. He couldn't even explain to himself for a moment why he forced himself to keep laughing longer than usual, why he was dithering uncomfortably in place when he had no good reason to as nothing was really wrong. Well... something had been wrong, for ages though. He'd felt it since the start, when Remus and Sirius had made up from their fight. Then that shite with his future had happened, and now everyone was ignoring there was some shift happening in their group. Their first game in too long and some old jokes didn't feel like it was really fixing anything- and what was Crouch doing there?!

Frank Longbottom was no longer leaning back casually on his elbows and pretending he wasn't watching them out of the corner of his eye, he now sat ramrod straight on the stairs and had no inkling of his audience, they were all so riveted by the sheer oddity of what they were hearing, glad for once they weren't at the scene of this crime. Standing in the shadows of the Forest, even one the Marauders knew so well, would have been terrifying, but somehow being in said man's house instead put an extra layer upon what they were hearing.

Madness was no joke then, the man had truly cracked, and Harry and Krum were there to witness the ravings.

Frank would swear the house itself stopped breathing, all eight of them taking in every word of Harry trying to sooth this Ministry official, then leaving Krum to take over as he went for Dumbledore. He was even selfishly glad Lily wasn't around this time, as Snape once again stepped in the way with his arse-like tendencies, he didn't need any distractions of how she would have explained that.

It was still all the stranger when boy and Headmaster returned, to find Krum stunned. Hogwarts truly turned into a madhouse for the following moments, and it wasn't until Hagrid was leading Harry away from it all that they each began really letting it all sink in.

Crouch was gone, his madness likely the cause of all this, but all of it? Frank did not think an onset of spotty mentality would cause him to put Harry Potter into the tournament, but things were progressing fast now into the final legs of his year, and still they were as scarce on information to the culprit of that as ever. Frank was a bit ashamed of himself he hadn't been paying nearly as much attention to details as he would have liked, and even found it some relief to look over and see the Marauders as aghast at all this as him. They were always known as clever students, to be able to do the stunts they pull, now three fourths of them being Animagi at their age was no easy feet. He was missing something, they all were.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #GoF #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Lily Evans #Regulus Black #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith

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fanficflaneuse · 4 years

Text

Life in Black - The Pilot

Index

Episode 1: The Pilot

A/N: GIF is not mine, I found it on Giphy. I hope you like this experiment. It is a mixture of narration and scriptwriting.

Words: 2341

Summary: Bellatrix decides she wants to live with her younger sister and her brother-in-law.

Opening Sequence

Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy sat in front of each other. Just like every morning, they took breakfast in the porch, overlooking the gardens. Narcissa insisted it reminded her of her homeland and Lucius knew better than to challenge her. He indulged her instead. He read The Daily Prophet as she drank her tea.

Narcissa was in the middle of a story about the preparations for the Paris Wizarding Fashion Week, when they were shaken by a loud bang from the house. The couple ran inside, wands out and faces full of concern. The elves ran frantically to the living room. As they approached, Narcissa relaxed and Lucius tensed even more.

“Bella!” said Narcissa, approaching her eldest sister and giving her a hug. Lucius took a deep breath, bracing himself up for whatever was coming; Bellatrix and him were barely on speaking terms.

“About time you came to greet me, sister” she answered.

“We weren’t expecting you,” mentioned Lucius.

“Do you hear something, Cissy?” said Bellatrix, pretending her brother-in-law wasn’t in the room.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here, Bella? I thought you and Rodolphus had moved back to Paris?”

“Don’t even mention him to me. We’re getting a divorce,” she said casually, not a hint of sorrow or melancholy in her voice.

Both Lucius and Narcissa eyed her warily. “I am so sorry, sister,” said Narcissa after a moment of awkward silence.

“Oh, don’t be. It was doomed from the beginning.”

“That’s what happens when you marry for convenience,” Narcissa said, shaking her head at the memory of Bellatrix’s rushed, loveless marriage.

“If the other option was to end with a slob like your husband, then no thank you.”

“Excuse you?” he said, outraged.

(NARCISSA MALFOY) TALKING HEAD.

(Narcissa sits on a very elegant armchair. The room is full of paintings and photographs staring at her. In the back of the room, above a marble chimney, there’s a very big portrait in which Lucius and Narcissa stand on either side of a teenager. He resembles Lucius and smiles awkwardly.)

“My sister...she’s truly something. I can’t really put it into words,” she says, politely smiling at the camera.

(Lucius comes into focus. He’s sitting on another armchair).

“She’s crazy,” he adds, deadly serious. Narcissa frowned at him.

(Bellatrix comes into focus, half sitting on Narcissa’s chair arm).

“Excuse you?” she exclaims, mimicking his previous outburst.

[Back to scene]

Lucius and Bella bickered for a while. Even the elves stuffed their ears with cotton balls so they didn’t have to hear them. Narcissa grew bored a few minutes into their petty drama; it was always the same with them. This time, though, the fact that Bellatrix had decided to move in with them without even asking made their usual passive aggressiveness less passive and more aggressive.

After Lucius stormed off and Bellatrix chose to establish herself in the closest room to theirs, Narcissa decided to call the big guns (also known as her sister Andromeda). She knew her sisters didn’t have a good relationship, but she was also sure she couldn’t deal Bella full time on her own.

(BELLATRIX LESTRANGE) TALKING HEAD.

(Bellatrix sits cross-legged on a champagne coloured divan. It’s placed in front of a big window that oversees the Malfoy gardens. As she talks, a flock of albino peacocks runs in the background).

“My relationship with Andromeda? Oh, it’s nonexistence. Since she married that mudbl- oh right, everyone’s offended by everything nowadays. So, the pc term is muggleborn, right? Well, ever since she married that muggleborn and had a half blood spawn of the devil I decided I just have one sister. She also married an absolute tosser, but at least he brought a pure last name to the table.”

[Back to scene]

Andromeda appeared a few hours later, ready to see her sister for the first time since she got engaged. The two estranged sisters bared a very close resemblance. They were both tall women with curly hair, big, blue eyes, long eyelashes, thin lips and sharp jaw. Anyhow, as they sat by either side of Narcissa, she thought there couldn’t be in the world two more different people. Andromeda’s soft, brown curls in a fancy updo complemented her face and made her look younger. Her eyes were full of kindness and patience. Their older sister, on the other hand, had a thick, raven hair, which looked as though she had hardly combed it. It made her come across as a patient of St. Mungo’s fourth floor.

The sisters sipped tea stiffly and avoided eye contact. Narcissa decided that the feud needed to end, for her own mental wellbeing.

“Andy, Bella is now living with us here,” she said.

“What?” Andromeda now looked at her older sister, trying to the decipher the mask of indifference Bellatrix had always worn.

“Go ahead, laugh all you want,” said Bellatrix, a sardonic smile on her face.

Andromeda was left speechless for a few seconds. Narcissa could see her sister’s mind working and tried to amend Bella’s words.

“She meant -”

“Do you really think I’m so heartless, Bellatrix?”

“Well, you did change your beloved family for a dick,” she shot.

(NARCISSA MALFOY) TALKING HEAD

“I really can’t blame Andy.”

She has a knowing smile as she says this.

(Lucius comes into focus).

He smirks and nods.

[Back to scene]

“Well, Bella, at least I was transparent with my intentions. What were yours exactly? Have a pure and most noble last name and a bit on the side? We’ve all heard about that one, even Cissy, even if she pretends not to.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Andromeda.”

“Tom Riddle. Does it ring a bell? Toujours pur and all that crap only to end your marriage for a fling with none other than an ex - convict,” she spat.

“You’ll drown in your self righteousness, dear. How bored you must be with that husband of yours and all our stupid social norms.”

“You’re talking to me about social norms? You burned my face out of the family’s tapestry when I got engaged to Ted.”

“It was just a game and Cissy fixed it.”

“Just a game? For whom? An arsonist?”

“Your insufferable! Always thinking you’re the better sister, the prettier sister, the perfect sister.”

“I am the prettier sister,” said Narcissa flatly; she had already grown bored of Bella bickering with everyone.

“I never said that!”

“You thought about it! I know you did. You think I’m unbalanced. You think I should be in an insane asylum or something, but I’ll tell you what, I’m smarter than you are. Wait till I fix my hair and climb out of the pit of desperation I’m in and I’ll even be prettier than you are.”

“It’s not a competition, Bella,” reminded Narcissa, “although if it was none of you would stand a chance against me.”

As always, the older sisters ignored the youngest one and concentrated on outsmarting one another. A loud bang came from the other end of the room. Narcissa, cigarette in one hand and lighter in the other, turned her head to see her cousin, Sirius and his husband, Remus. She shot them an almost pleading look as they took seats by her side as Andy and Bella had long since discarded their place.

“Cissa, toss me the light,” he said, lying back on the couch.

“No, no, darling. This is bad for your health,” she answered as she put the cigarette between her lips.

Sirius raised a brow. “You taught me how to smoke,” he remarked.

As she refused again and he was about to give her some new argument, Remus put his hand on his spouse’s thigh. “Remember your new year’s resolutions,” he said in a sing-song voice.

Sirius groaned.

“What brings you two here. It’s been a while,” said Narcissa.

“Andy told us you invited her and we wanted to make sure Bellatrix didn’t rip her head off,” shrugged Remus.

(ANDROMEDA TONKS) TALKING HEAD

(Andromeda sits on a grey, L shaped couch. Her living room is small and cozy. It looks exceptionally clean. She’s surrounded by plants. Behind her, there’s a big shelf full of frayed books).

“Rip my head off? What, because I’m the only one of the Blacks who wouldn’t be diagnosed as a loony then I’d let Bella walk all over me? No, sir. I showed them right then and there I could also roast someone.”

She looks pleased with herself, but her smile falters a few seconds later.

“Is roast a real term? Did I used it correctly?”

[Back to scene]

Lucius had also joined the others in the drawing room. He cheered on Andromeda every time she said something particularly witty to Bellatrix.

“You go, ‘Meda!” he said after she remarked how everyone breathed a little more peacefully after she moved out.

Andromeda looked at him straight in the eye. “I know you’re my brother in law, but we’re not there yet, honey.”

“I hate her,” he said pointing at Bellatrix, “isn’t that enough?”

The three sisters looked at him, eyebrows elegantly raised.

“Whatever you say now will determine your faith, Lucius,” taunted Sirius.

“I’m also married to her,” Lucius continued, this time pointing at Narcissa, “so you should consider yourself lucky she didn’t run off and have a baby with a convicted felon.”

Remus snorted obnoxiously.

(NARCISSA MALFOY) TALKING HEAD

“I couldn’t smoke while I was pregnant with Draco. Hardest nine months of my life,” she says with a grimace, “it was all worth it, though. I’m living the dream. I mean, who doesn’t want to be in charge of a fifteen years old boy who only babbles about one of his classmates?”

She doesn’t look very convinced.

[Back to scene]

Sirius had joined in the roasting now. Bellatrix had mentioned something about her not being invited to his wedding with Remus. He, in turn, spilling the family tea all over the living room’s floor.

“I never really cared that you were a twi-”

“Tais toi!” screeched Narcissa, not wanting her sister to literally taunt their cousin once again for his sexual orientation. Bella knew exactly who else in the family she was mocking and Narcissa was having absolutely none of that.

DISSOLVE TO: the whole family sitting like scolded kids. Narcissa furiously pacing in front of them.

“This ends here!” she announced, “I’m tired of the Blacks being the absolute worst family in the history of families.”

“What is she saying?” Remus whispered to Sirius while Narcissa kept rambling.

“Shhh,” Sirius mumbled back, “I can barely understand. Somehow her accent keeps getting thicker and thicker.”

“Sirius,” she said. Her cousin perked up at the mention of his name. “When was the last time you saw Nymphadora?”

“Uhh, yesterday?”

“What?!” she exclaimed, “so you see each other regularly?”

“We go to work together.”

“You work?” she asked, even more surprised than before.

“I own a bar,” he shrugged, not surprised that his cousin didn’t know of his whereabouts.

“Of course you do,” interjected Bellatrix, “and what does dearest Nymphadora do?”

“She’s an auror,” Andromeda answered, not allowing any biting remark to come from her sister’s malicious lips.

Narcissa looked at Andromeda curiously. She tried her best to be close with both her sisters and yet somehow she didn’t know know Nymphadora was an auror. In her mind, for some reason, her metamorphmagus niece was still in Hogwarts.

“She sees Lucius at the Ministry all the time. Just last week she told me they chatted on the elevator,” said Sirius.

Narcissa shot his husband an accusing look.

“I’ve seen her a couple of times, but I never thought she worked there. I just assumed she roamed the building for...reasons.”

Andy facepalmed as Bella cackled.

“Alright, well those days are over.”

“What days?” asked Remus, afraid to know the answer.

“The days of us not knowing what each other are up to. Auntie Walburga died three years ago,” she said. Andromeda patted Sirius’ back when he frowned at the mention of his satirical mother. “She was the last one of our parents’ generation. It is our chance to start anew, to accept each other. So, it’s decided. We’re having dinner tonight.”

The rest of the family joined in a collective whine, but accepted. Everyone knew better than to mess with Narcissa once she was set on something.

A few hours later, the elves placed all sorts of delicacies at the table. Draco was granted permission to apparate from the school back home, arriving as the rest of the family took their sits. He frowned as he sat by his aunt Bella’s side, who only talked about how he looked like his good for nothing father. He sent a pitiful look at his cousin Nymphadora, who smiled amusedly at him as she tried to start a conversation with Regulus. Sirius and Ted were already talking like old friends and Remus and Lucius shared a laugh at Professor Snape’s expense. Andromeda looked satisfied. Narcissa, at the head of the table, eyed her family proudly.

“Levitate the potatoes my way, please Nymphadora?” said Draco. He wasn’t particularly close with his cousin, but he knew she hated the name.

“Don’t. Call. Me. Nymphadora!” she said as she pushed the potatoes a bit too harshly towards him. Her changed from purple to a shade of red.

“I like you already,” said Bella.

“That’s a very bad sign,” muttered Remus.

(LUCIUS MALFOY) TALKING HEAD.

(Lucius sits on the same elegant armchair as before. He has his legs crossed and the attitude of a dandy).

“Life is full of changes. Some big, some small. I learned a long time ago you can fight it or try to make the best of it. And that's all a lot easier if you've got people who love you to help you face whatever life throws at you,” he says, an affectionate smile on his face.

He then frowns worriedly. “I just hope my house doesn’t become the designated place of gathering. My peacocks couldn’t take it.”

Roll Credits

64 notes · View notes

spell-cleaver · 4 years

Note

As he stood opposite the queen of Naboo, he tried to imagine what this had to look like for the adults surrounding them, and he disliked the resemblance between the two of them immensely: two child rulers shaking hands, dressed up in expensive regalia to give this little farce the expected air of dignity.

Previous parts on the masterpost here!

As he stood opposite the Queen of Naboo, he tried to imagine what this had to look like for the adults surrounding them, and he disliked the resemblance between the two of them immensely: two child rulers shaking hands, dressed up in expensive regalia to give this little farce the expected air of dignity.

Queen Dalné smiled politely, and he smiled politely back; for a moment, he had to wish that he had the same ceremonial makeup that she did, to better hide his awkwardness. This... was not what he'd wanted, when Vader had first proposed a retreat. A holiday.

A place to find out more about his mother.

He supposed that she was here, in these walls—she had been queen once, just as Dalné was now, and he had to wonder if the regal name Dalné had been picked to honour Padmé Amidala, the way Nova had called herself Sabé from the moment she served her. There had been several stained glass windows that they'd walked past to get here, that Vader had stiffened and avoided looking at with all his might, but Luke couldn't help but stare.

His mother had been serene.

His mother had been stately.

His mother had been... stunning.

But it also all seemed just superficial.

The place was beautiful. If he'd grown up here, the way his mother and possibly his father had no doubt intended, perhaps he would view it in a far more flattering light. Perhaps he would see the history in the grandeur, the respect for beloved figures, the masks that hid the subtle currents of deception enhancing the beauty in a way that was honest about the reverse that lay beneath.

But the splendour... the politics... the two-faced whispering and judgement raining down on him from every portrait and window...

It reminded him that Palpatine had come from this planet as well.

"Your Majesty," Queen Dalné greeted, her smile passive and reserved. He found nothing to relate to in it. "You honour us with your visit to Naboo—again, so soon after your official tour. As the homeworld of your late, beloved father"—there was a shrewd look in her eye and suddenly everything clicked into place; he knew exactly how he was going to play this, and find the warm presence of his mother that he'd been searching for so fiercely—"or rather, your adoptive father, we welcome you will open arms and the highest regards."

Her gaze tracked down his outfit: a simple dark red robe, embroidered in gold and black with fleur de lis patterning in the Naboo fashion, to pay homage. He could almost sense her distaste for the token, shallow respect of what was clearly a rich, complex culture he had not been raised in, but now... now he knew exactly what game Nova had meant for him to play, when she dressed him in this.

You are an Imperial, raised by a shameful son of our planet, and you are not even of our blood, the Queen had implied. Why are you here?

Luke raised his eyes to the murals of Naboo's historical monarchs, painted on the ceilings and high walls of the throne room. He sought his mother's image, in red and gold, and found his strength.

"Thank you for allowing me to stay, Your Majesty," he said in return. He made sure to put emphasis on the title, to try and show that with equal titles, equal ages... they were equal, in a way. "And thank you for allowing me to use the lake house of Varykino for this retreat; it honours me more than I can say."

There, he saw it, even through the mask of the makeup: a muscle twitched in her jaw.

"I could hardly refuse," she said, and there was anger in her voice. Defensiveness at the perceived forcefulness. The slightest glare at Nova—for what? For working with the Empire? Or for willingly handing over Amidala's sanctuary, as it had come to be known, on top of that?

He bowed his head. "I..." He paused, and began again. "As I am sure you are aware, it recently came to light, for myself and for the galaxy, that my father was not the father I was born to, biologically." He looked her dead in the eye. "Even as I wish for nothing but to honour my father and his legacy, I firmly believe that his mercy in raising me, someone who would've been a war orphan, should be continued and expanded upon—his vision should be altered and improved, to fit a changing galaxy. I know that I come from a family who had very different ideas to my father, but his cooperation with my birth mother saw wonderful results during the age of the Republic, and I hope that by coming here to better connect with the mother I never knew, I can better marry these two ideals to become a better ruler, as well as finding peace in myself and my heritage."

Uncertain, or not. Correct, or not. Clever, or not.

If Palpatine had taught Luke to be one thing, it was a damn good speaker.

Dalné's face was creased ever so slightly in confusion, her makeup smoothing it to indifference, but the Force did not lie and Luke could sense her irritation. What was he playing at? Why was he here? What was he planning?

Luke said, "Hearing from Lady Sabé"—he gestured to her; they studied her, and clocked with certainty that that was Amidala's closest handmaiden from during her reign and service—"that my birth mother was none other than the woman I had always idolised, Padmé Amidala... it meant so much to me. And I may never get to speak to her in person, but I will cherish any part of her I can find, and do my best to follow her vision for a galactic government as I continue my rule."

He bowed, and allowed himself to smile only the slightest bit, eyes closed, at the stunned silence in the throne room. Dalné's advisors stared.

"So thank you for allowing Sabé to host me there, while I try to... try to reconcile my identity." He let himself stumble slightly, show a hint of vulnerability, make him relatable. He'd just told them in as many words that Palpatine had taken Amidala's child from what should've been his home with her relatives and raised him for his own. Right now, they would not be seeing the youthful wisdom they so valued in their teenage rulers. They would be seeing a lost boy—a lost son.

They would be seeing the way the robes swallowed him whole—robes which were identical in colour and pattern to the regal dress she was so often depicting as wearing. A clear homage.

Dalné... smiled, a little. "Well, then, I must welcome you home, Your Majesty," she said. "And we pray that you will find the understanding you seek. Varykino—and the lake country as a whole—is known to be excellent for that."

He bowed his head again. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he intoned, and took that as his cue to leave.

He did not stick around to hear the Queen demand to speak to Nova, to hear her point of view on everything that had happened, all of it—and therefore he did not hear the way Nova asked if she could contact the Naberries for her, to pass on a message.

Within the hour, he was in a speeder and on the way to Varykino, and this time... the splendour Naboo had to offer felt a lot less like his father, and much more like his mother, instead.

Send me the first sentence of a scene from this AU and I might continue it!

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#luke palpatine #okay it is no secret how much i love naboo it comes up in so many of my fics #as does padme's legacy #luke skywalker #naboo #sabé #my writing #random words on a page

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lavenderdetectivebabe · 3 years

Text

YTTD official artwork thoughts!

I recently came across some of the promotional artworks for YTTD as a result of my ‘i’m-starved-for-content-oh-god-please-give-me-something’ wiki deepdives, and haven’t really seen anybody discuss them at all, so here I am!

Let’s start with the first year anniversary art.

The thing that jumps out to me the most is that little figure to the left of Meister. Who is it? It doesn’t look enough like Hayasaka for me to reasonably believe that it’s him, and it’s certainly not Jin from Island Existence. Perhaps the true identity of Meister himself? Not sure, but I’d love to hear some thoughts!

Another thing worth noting is the fact that Kurumada and Anzu are present, as well as Megumi and Kugie, but Hinako, Hayasaka, Mai and Ranmaru are all strangely absent. I think its an odd choice to include the first two and not the rest of the dolls, especially considering the other four have been much more significant to the plot up to this point. Is there a reason they’ve been left out, perhaps? Even Reko’s band members, Meister, the memory dance doll, and Botsun made it into the artwork even though all of them have barely been involved in the plot, if at all.

Then there are the penguins. They make another appearance in one of the later artworks, and the only time I remember seeing them was in the bathhouses next to the mirror room. I wasn’t under the impression they had any relevance at all, so why have they been included over characters like the dummies, Midori, or even Maple? I’m not sure of the timeline of this game’s release though- perhaps chapter 3 hadn’t properly been released yet when this artwork was made? But then why would Naomichi and Anzu be included...? Definitely something to think about.

Then there’s this artwork, released a year after the first.

There are a few significant questions raised by this promo art. Something that caught my eye was the white, triangular headbands all of the dummies, as well as Megumi, are wearing. I did a little bit of research regarding these headbands, and according to this source: (https://hyakumonogatari.com/2011/09/22/what-is-the-triangle-headband-japanese-ghosts-wear/), they are thought to be worn by ghosts of the deceased.

‘The meaning of the cloth is speculative, although there are two main theories why it came into fashion. One says that the dead have ascended to a higher level, and thus the tenkan (heaven’s crown) is placed upon their heads to show their new status. Another says that the sharp point of the triangle wards off evil spirits or demons from entering the now-empty body from the head and resurrecting the corpse or preventing the spirit’s transition.’

This makes sense, as all the seven characters wearing it failed their first trial and died as a result. However, this poses the question- why isn’t Kugie wearing one? Like Megumi and all the dummies, Kugie was killed in her first trial, and going by that logic, she should be wearing one too. Unless Kugie isn’t actually dead. Midori also appears to be staring very intently at Kugie, for whatever reason.

I tried to do some research into whether there could be any hidden meaning behind what Shin and Joe are wearing, but didn’t find anything. Let me know if you have any ideas about that, I’d love to hear them!

Hinako. She’s suspicious as fuck. This is the only piece of promotional art across the whole series that she appears in, and she is purposely turned away so that her face is obscured. (Junko Enoshima is typing...). I also find it very interesting that her face is hidden in her supposed victim video, and the portrait in the art gallery seems to resemble her, but the hair is either dark and spiky, or the face is scribbled out. I’m MAD sus of her- I’m almost certain she is human, and is not the same Hinako from the first trial, who was paired with Alice.

Same deal with the penguins- except this time there’s two of them, one red and one blue.

Here’s the third artwork- doesn’t have quite as much to discuss, but a few things in it have piqued my interest.

Meister, once again, is on top of it all. I’m convinced this guy is the mastermind, possibly the survivor of the Hades Incident? Miley appears to be second in command- she seems to know much more than any of the other floor masters do about the Death Game.

The penguins are back and I still have no idea what their deal is.

I’m very interested in the seashell-looking thing that Kai has. It’s also in the previous artwork, and seems important, but I have no idea what its relevance might be.

I might be grasping at straws here, but Mew-chan has been awfully prominent in all three artworks- I wonder if it has a significant role within the plot? Perhaps Mishima’s head is inside it? Or even some sort of computer? Either way, I’m mighty suspicious of Gin.

I’d love to hear some thoughts and theories on YTTD to tide me over until 3B releases! Let me know!

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beautyandthewarcanons · 3 years

Text

Echo's Beacon: Part Twenty

[You can read part nineteen here! All BATW & DTTR characters belong to @poisonappletales ! ❤]

At breakfast, I skirted the prongs of my fork around my plate, taking a bite of my food here and there. Just then, someone cleared their throat. I looked up to see Bo Peep rise from her seat. Barium traced a finger up and down her forearm briefly.

"Morning, everyone! So, like, it's been kind of boring and a little scary here."

"And?" X asked flatly. Ambrosia couldn't help but notice that Wildfire was teasing him quite a bit.

"Aaaaand... I had an idea for something fun!" She giggled. "Tonight, we're ALL going to play spin the bottle! Whoever it lands on, you have to KISS!"

"... No." Wind said.

"Well Barium says you all have to do it. Right, baby?"

"What my ruby wants, my ruby gets." Barium winked.

"Yay! I can't wait for tonight! We're going to have a blast!"

"Oh... you have to be kidding." Jasmine groaned.

"Mmm... I can't wait either..." Unknown chuckled deviously.

Just then, I noticed Bo Peep glance at me, smiling and winking before nodding her head to the side, motioning toward Arsenik. My eyes widened a bit, doubling back to her. I slumped in my chair a bit, imagining the prospect of getting a chance to kiss him.

I felt heat rising in my face.

"Arsenik, what if I get someone I don't like?" Viktor complained.

"Perhaps you'll get someone you do like." Arsenik replied.

Jasmine flickered her gaze toward Night for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"This... should be interesting." He said, leaning back in his chair.

"Kissing will infringe on my ability to protect the King." Onyx remarked.

X scoffed. "You sure you don't want to kiss 'the King?' Your head is already so far up his a-"

"So, hold on..." Chase said. "We're going to play a game that involves kissing people?!"

"Yup. Start puckering those lips!" Brooks laughed.

I placed my utensils on my plate. "I'm going to unwind in the library." I said to Ambrosia.

"Hey, friend." Wildfire called out to me. I noticed she had an arm loosely draped around X. "Got anything juicy to read? Want to share?"

I cleared my throat. "I'll let you know if I find anything worthwhile, Wildfire."

"Since when are you interested in literature, miss Wildfire?" Arsenik asked. Wildfire shot a look his way.

"Why do you want to know?" She asked.

"Out of curiosity I may regret having." Arsenik responded.

I made my way to the library, passing through the aisles between the bookshelves. Light poured in through the tall windows on one side-

A shadow.

I stopped, holding my breath. Several moments passed. All I could hear was a low humming, and I dared to take a step forward. I saw something on the ground, lowering to pick it up.

A Rose petal.

I ventured around another corner, peeking to see a woman standing before one of the large windows, looking out. As I realized she was the source of the humming, she turned, and I ducked back a bit. But when I saw her face... I couldn't believe how closely she resembled Ambrosia, even possessing a small mole under her left eye.

Upon closer inspection, however... I could see she had indeed met a grizzly end.

Donned in a white nurse's cap and dress, a large, red cross printed on the front, blood stained her attire from where there was a gruesome puncture in her chest. Tears of blood stained her face, around her nostrils, and the corners of her lips.

A flashback pierced my mind then. In the drawing room, when Bernard had told me of Katherine Pheasant, another woman was in the portrait with her.

"... Amber? Amber Rose?"

The woman smiled. She wasn't hostile in the slightest. She extended her hands, and I cautiously allowed her to take hold of mine. She held them for a moment, wearing a gentle smile. She then linked one of her arms with mine, leading me along one of the shelves. She slowed to a stop, releasing my arm. I watched as her finger hovered along the book spines before moving one. Hidden behind a few books, flush against the back of the shelf, was a smaller, leather bound book. Amber Rose reached out to take it, dusting it off before handing it to me. I furrowed a brow- no one in a thousand years would have known that book was there unless someone happened to move those select few. When I flipped through some pages, however... I realized it wasn't a book at all.

It was a diary.

I furrowed my brows. "Why are you giving me this?" I asked. "What are you trying to tell me?"

Amber Rose leaned in, whispering into my ear.

"Kara?"

I turned at the sound of the voice; hearing someone wandering nearer. I turned back to address Amber Rose-

She was nowhere to be seen.

I looked all around me, until I noticed something om the ground. I bent down, picking up another Rose petal. I quickly opened the diary, placing the petal among the pages.

"Oh, there you are."

I turned to see Barium, tucking the diary in my sweatshirt. "Hey... how's it going?"

"I'm well. Find any new books?"

I shook my head. "Still looking."

A few moments passed. "Are you doing alright, Kara? You seemed a bit off this morning."

"Oh... yeah, I'm fine. Just had a bit of a scare."

"Well... I'm sure today will be fun. Bo Peep never fails on the event planning front." He chuckled.

"She's very good like that, yeah... I'm just a little nervous."

"Hey... don't be." Barium extended a hand, lifting my chin a bit. "I won't let anyone get on your case. And if you happen to get Unknown... I'll use my executive authority to overrule it."

"I appreciate that. I don't want him near me." I shuddered.

"Of course."

Just then, Chase bounded into the library. "Kara! Where are you?"

"Oh- I'm over here, Chase. What's up?"

Chase skidded to a stop upon seeing Barium, who rose a brow. "Morning, Chase."

"... Mornin'." He replied. "I wanted to tell Kara something."

"Alright, then. Kara, I'll see you later, alright?" I nodded, and he brushed a knuckle against my jawline. "Keep your chin up, alright?"

Chase watched the monarch warily as he headed out of the large space. I cleared my throat.

"So... what's going on-"

"Are you in his harem?"

I blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Did you join his harem?"

"... No?" I glanced around, confused.

"Has he asked you?"

"No... Chase, what's wrong-"

"Don't do it. If he asks you, you have to say no. You don't belong there." He took a step closer to me. "You don't belong with him."

My mouth hung open for a moment, looking at my feet. "Chase... you don't have to worry... about that." I felt him hug me then, lightly pressing my head against his chest.

"You'd just end up being another mistress. But that's not you. You're different." He released me then, taking a step back. "He's just trying to charm you."

"He's a nice man, Chase... but I'm not making any crazy decisions right now, okay?"

The Trold shifted his gaze to the side for a moment, as if not liking that answer. "Sure."

I nodded. "Okay. So... what was it you wanted to tell me?"

In the game room, Viktor crossed his arms. "You're not as great as you think you are, you know?"

Night shrugged. "Well, I'm not too shabby, either." Several people surrounded the pool table. Unknown was pressed against Brooks' back as he tried to show her how to play, the Valkyrie snickering.

"You're cheating, buster! You've got TWO poles right now, haha!"

"I'd rather fight in an underground arena." X slumped back in a chair, his arms hanging off the back to expose his shoulder muscles.

"Who says it has to be underground?" Wildfire smirked. "We can fight right here, right now."

"Watch it, sister. You don't know what you're asking." X smirked back.

Night shot the ball, knocking another into one of the holes. "You're up, Arsenik."

"A fine play, sir Night." Jasmine complimented.

"Thanks." He nodded.

As Arsenik set up his move, Chase and I entered the room. Chase was chuckling to himself as he motioned toward Viktor.

"Are you mocking me, Trold?" Viktor spat.

"What if I am?" Chase crossed his arms.

"Chase." I pursed my lips, waving my finger back and forth.

"Fine..." He rubbed the back of his head. " I'll be nice."

"Miss Kara, it's a breath of fresh air to know you have a shred of common decency." Viktor commented.

Arsenik looked up then. "Ah, miss Kara. You've arrived just in time to watch me most likely make a complete fool of myself."

I smiled. "I doubt you could be any worse than me, Arsenik." I said, sitting with Chase and Viktor.

My voice caught Wildfire's attention, then. "Hey. Find any books worth reading?"

"... Hello, Wildfire. No... not yet." I stuck my hands in my sweatshirt pocket, clutching the diary.

"That one you have must be real good. You should show us, sometime." She smiled arrogantly. I looked down at my feet, wishing she would let this up already.

Just then, Arsenik made his move, striking the white ball. I lifted my head, watching along with some of the others as it collided with one of the remaining balls on the table. One by one, they were each struck, rolling slowly. With increasing anticipation, each one fell into a table pocket until one remained. I held my breath, the suspense agonizing. It teetered on the edge of the pocket.

"Come on..." I muttered under my breath. Chase rose a brow. Arsenik glanced at me briefly.

The ball fell in.

"Yes!" I cheered, stopping when I realized what I did. I slowly sat back down. "Sorry... that was really awesome, Arsenik."

"Huh. Interesting." Night remarked, scanning the table and the pockets.

"Don't fret, sir Night. You still played valiantly." Jasmine reassured.

Arsenik chuckled in surprise. "Well... that was pleasantly unexpected." He turned to me, then. "Perhaps you served as a good omen for me, miss Kara."

I straightened up. "Maybe..." A smile poked at the corner of my lips. "Sorry for the loud cheer."

"Not at all. It was appreciated, actually. It's nice to know I have anyone supporting me."

"Excuse me! I support you, I'm your nephew!" Viktor cried.

"Not as enthusiastically as miss Kara, I'm afraid."

"Well, I was maintaining composure... not to say that miss Kara was out of line, of course... oh, you know what I mean!"

Arsenik laughed. "I'm teasing you, Viktor."

"Hey, Kara?" Chase suddenly spoke up.

I snapped out of my distracted state. "Yeah?"

"Teach me how to play this game."

I blinked. "Uh... I would, but I'm not as good at pool as I am at darts."

"I can teach you." Night suddenly volunteered. "It's not as hard as it looks. I just watched Unknown play."

"You guys managed to learn this in a week?" I asked.

"Arsenik is a very quick learner." Viktor remarked.

"Maybe I should learn, too." I thought aloud.

"I can teach you if you like, miss Kara. Then, you and mister Chase can play a match once you've both learned enough."

"That sounds like a good plan, actually. How about it, Chase?" I asked.

"I'll have to be careful... I may try to lose so you don't feel bad."

I chuckled. "It's just a game, Chase. No hard feelings, okay?"

"You got it." Chase grinned. I didn't notice Wildfire staring over at us as she horsed around with X, the criminal none the wiser.

To be continued...

#beautyandthewar #poisonappletales #beauty and the war x playing pieces #beauty and the war #donttakethisrisk #dont take this risk #arsenik #love #horror #suspense #ghosts #spirits #drama #fanficton

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kitaychan · 3 years

Text

White Flame

Chapter 2

Rating: M

Warnings: Blood, Psychological Horror

General Summary: Royal/ Magical AU. As their two Kingdoms get closer to a war, the past keeps on hovering around their choices. Prince Ivan has a hard time controlling his magical powers while being tormented by a mysterious ghost and Prince Alfred embarcs in seeking a revenge that might cost more than it’s worth it.

Preview: He stared at the animal and frowned. “I don't want to be a king, I want to be that bird.”

Natalya kept laughing until his annoyed expression told her that he was talking seriously.

She took off the ribbon that kept her hair out of her face and folded it. “You can’t, people can’t be turned into animals but you can be a King and live very happy.”

Maybe he was just a boy.

Ivan wasn’t sure of what had happened.

The luncheon had been peaceful, his mother was sitting there, preferring hot chocolate over the delicious pork that Ivan requested, she was a bit paler than normal but it wasn’t strange, these days the palace was colder, perhaps winter would come earlier.

Katya, his sister was nibbling the dessert when his father arrived, scowling as usual and refusing to eat, offering his drink to the queen. He complained about the newly acquired mage saying he was “fooling around instead of doing his work”. Ivan felt bad for the poor man, he remembered his father brought him along in the last trip, from a foreign land in the east.

Ivan had tried to caught the oriental man around the palace, curiosity was killing him, he wanted to ask about the customs, the stories about dragons that he heard from the knights, but his father wouldn’t allow him to, saying that the man was unwilling to share the secrets of their magic. Ivan didn’t blame him, if he had a choice, he wouldn’t share his magic with his father either.

The king reminded the boy about their practice the next day, as if he was reading Ivan’s thoughts, he underlined the importance of it as well as the obligatory nature of the task. Ivan wasn’t keen of their shared lectures, his father was always scolding him, calling him weak and lazy. It wasn’t his fault that the spells did not work, though, his unwillingness to utter them or cast them among defendless servants might have something to do with it.

The day had been so boring that he didn't remember much of it, just that he had to dinner alone while some servants walked around hurriedly.

When he lay in bed waiting for his mother to kiss him goodnight, he could distinguish the sound of a clock, marking each second, the sound was distant, echoing in the halls.

He pondered the idea of searching the clock but refrained from it, he didn't want a punishment for being out of bed.

Ivan, waited and waited until his eyelids closed and he drifted to sleep.

His mother didn't showed up that night.

In the morning as he was sleeping soundly in his bed, glad that his father had ceased taking him on those long and horrible trips and happy that his dreams didn’t turn into the constant nightmare with the bloodied wolf, he heard his sister sobbing.

She was by his side, waiting for him to wake up. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks stained with tears. Ivan didn't know what to do, she hugged him tightly, assuring that she was going to be there for him. For what? Ivan didn't know, he only nodded as his sister kept crying and mumbling nonsenses to him.

Two days later the weight of the situation was setting in his mind. His mother was not going to greet him in the mornings anymore, she wasn’t there to wake him from his nightmares and lull him into sleep again. Though, Katya was there as she said, she was clueless, she didn’t know why the gray wolf mounted in the trophy hall was covered. She didn’t understand why Ivan dreaded the weekly practices with their father.

Somehow, in a short span of time his father had managed to look even more menacing, whenever he casted his glance at him, Ivan felt as if he blamed him for his mother’s death.

Ivan had refused to prepare for the funeral. There were relatives he didn’t know around the palace giving him pitiful glances and some of them even dared to speak to him about his mother. How could they? they’ve never showed themselves when she was alive, why should he listen to them now?

When the third unknown relative approached him at the table, Ivan left behind his untouched meal and ran directly to his room. Kicking off his shoes and tossing the black coat they had made him wear.

After some minutes his father and Katya entered in his room. His sister proceeded to silently dress him back.

“You’ll go downstairs, greet everyone and stay until they go to sleep.” The glare his father gave him was enough for Ivan to understand he shouldn't talk back.

Katya’s voice was soft. “Father, perhaps we should let him rest. Vaneshka hasn’t slept very well as of lately.”

“I didn’t ask your opinion, Yekaterina. Go and greet the guests.” The harshness of his voice made the siblings flinch.

While Ivan observed the way she was hurriedly tying his shoes, the thought that had been haunting him since he got the news from his mother’s death assaulted him once again.

Even when his sister promised to be there for him, which was precisely what she was doing. She had only a bit of influence in the palace.

Katya could not protect him from their father.

----

The day was sunny, the sound of the leaves rustling with the wind was all Natalya could hear, she was glancing out of the window, silent, she should be sleeping but she couldn’t, she was eager to go out of the carriage and spin around with that nice black dress her mother had prepared.

Today she was finally going to visit his cousin, her mother was always talking about him, telling her how to behave in front of him. Each year the king gifted her a portrait alongside some silk ribbons, she made sure to wear one each day.

She hadn't seen him since he was five years old or so they said, she didn’t remember very well, but it was not her fault to be younger than him, it was a miracle she knew whom they were talking about. But it didn’t matter, she knew that he was just as charming as they had told her. After all his father always said that she deserved nothing less than a prince. Natalya imagined he had to be just like that, a prince, just like the tales her mother read to her at night.

When the time finally came, Natalya glued herself to the carriage's window, to get a glimpse of him, they would be arriving soon. She admired the city, the ornamental gate, the beautiful gardens, the entrance with the servants all dressed in black.

Stepping out of the carriage, she observed in awe at the beautiful and obviously bigger palace his cousin lived in.

The doors were opened and she finally saw him.

He was dressed in a simple way, at least in comparison to her, who had been hours trying to look as well as possible. She greeted him and he responded shyly, hiding behind his sister.

To Natalia, it was confusing, she was expecting him to take her hand or to bring flowers like in the fairytales but she supposed it was going to happen later, after all they were just children, he was nine years old.

After the boring ceremony held for the deceased queen, her mother sent her to speak with the prince, to cheer him up.

Natalya complied, chatting and starting a silly game of hide and seek in the gardens. She let him win, that’s what her mother instructed her to do. It would make him happy but he looked bored and was more interested in the surroundings than in the game itself. Noticing this, Natalya tried to start a conversation.

“Do you like that tree?” she asked, leaning forward and trying to peek over his shoulder.

He pushed her back and sighed. “ No, I am looking at the bird in it.” Then he pointed at a branch in the tree.

There was in fact a gray bird with white and black rings around the neck and a fluffy white belly. Natalia thought it was a pretty simple bird, this wasn’t the kind of conversation her mother had said he’d be interested in, instead he was just as any other boy she had talked with. Perhaps, her mother was wrong, this boy wasn’t a prince just yet, maybe he was just a boy.

Natalya decided to act naturally and not how she had practiced, stating her opinion. “I don’t know much about animals, I think they are noisy, especially birds. Do you like birds?”

There was a small silence and Natalya shifted uncomfortably, had she done something wrong?

Her cousin smiled. “Not really,” -he shrugged- “I just think that one is cute.”

Natalya smiled back and lifted an eyebrow. “Why? Is it because it’s gray, like the wolf?”

He tensed considerably. “No...I don’t know, it’s big and fluffy, it looks like it has a beard.”

Natalia looked up at the bird again and giggled. “it does look like it has a beard.”

He sat in the grass and scoffed. “If it had a hat it would look like your father.”

Natalya frowned, was that an insult?

“I don’t think so, it would resemblance the priest.” She said sitting beside him.

“The priest?”

She nodded. “Yes, didn't you see him?”

“He doesn't look like that.” he looked confused.

“He does, I talked with him. I asked him when I could marry” she whined putting her hands on her lap, playing with the fabric of the dress.

He just turned to look at the bird again.

She shook his shoulder “Aren’t you going to ask me when I can marry?”

He looked at her for a moment, shaking his head. "No. My father is always saying that my sister has to marry, that he’ll pick with whom, why would you want to know when you’ll marry? If father is ordering Katya to think about that it can’t be good. You shouldn’t be excited."

She shook her head. “That’s not true. My parents say that marriage is a good thing, that it brings joy and wealth. You’ll have to marry one day too.”

He seemed surprised as if the idea hadn’t cross his mind before. He crossed his arms and denied childishly. “I don't want to.”

Natalya laughed at his response. “Why not? I could be a nice queen and when you are the king you can get more of those birds. We will be very happy.”

He stared at the animal and frowned. “I don't want to be a king, I want to be that bird.”

Natalya kept laughing until his annoyed expression told her that he was talking seriously.

She took off the ribbon that kept her hair out of her face and folded it. “You can’t, people can’t be turned into animals but you can be a King and live very happy.”

----

Later that night, Natalya was sneaking to his room, she was going to give him a gift to show him her affection. She tiptoed through the corridor and opened his door slowly. The floor creaked under her tiny feet and he woke up, seeming startled to see her there. She put a finger on her lips motioning him to keep quiet.

She gave him a box and a kiss on the cheek and left the room closing the door behind her. She was giggling, waiting for him to open it and to go out and thank her.

What happened next was a blur to Natalya.

A shrieking scream resounded on the halls, some doors were opened, and she heard hasty steeps getting near.

She was pushed back and the door of his room opened. She saw him, sobbing with the bird on his hands, his eyes meeting hers for a moment. Then, he started shouting at her, she didn’t understand why, all she had done was to get that stupid bird for him and there he was speaking nonsense to her.

She started crying, the king entered the room and he stopped his noisy cries. The hateful glace the prince gave her when he stood up made her shriek, what had she done wrong? She kept sobbing in the hall, while the prince pointed at her and accused her with the king. The icy glare of the latter stayed in her memory for years after the incident, alongside the sound of the door closing in front of her.

#hetalia #aph russia #axis powers hetalia #aph belarus #aph ukraine #hetalia fanfiction #hws russia #hws ukraine #hws belarus #hetalia world series

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imagitory · 4 years

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Just thought I’d share a little of my progress in the game Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery! Right now I’ve just started year 5, and yeah, while the game definitely isn’t perfect, I’m having fun! If you want to read more about my character, I put in a cut! (Sorry about my character holding hands with your character Alana’s bae, @weasleyismyking540 -- if I could’ve picked Chiara as Carewyn’s other half instead, I would have!)

My character, Carewyn “Cursebreaker” Cromwell, although she resembles me quite a bit visually, isn’t exactly like me, but one thing that she and I do share is a love of fashion! She changes outfits all the time depending on what she’s doing, from wearing all black when she was tailing Rakepick to wearing the Weasley sweater she got from Bill when she was trying to become Prefect. The outfit she’s wearing in her screenshots and in the biggest sketch I did is her usual “adventure” outfit, though she will break out the black version when she needs to be stealthy, like when she sneaked into the Forbidden Forest in fourth year. She also managed to become a Prefect, despite her disregard for the rules! In my head, I imagine it’s largely due to her maternal streak, rather than any astounding respect for rules and regulations: even if she’s a Slytherin, she likes protecting and looking after other people, especially social outcasts, since she herself has had to deal with a decent amount of people misjudging her.

Backstory -- Carewyn is the second child and only daughter of the half-blood Cromwell family. Her father, Evan Bach, was a Muggle who left his family when his son Jacob received his Hogwarts letter and his wife, Lane, revealed her magical ancestry to him. After that, both Jacob and Carewyn took on their mother’s maiden name, Cromwell. Carewyn was a late-in-life surprise for her parents, being born only two years before Jacob started at Hogwarts. Jacob disappeared when Carewyn was eight years old, and ever since, Carewyn has been starved for news about her lost brother. Part of her worries that Jacob -- a Ravenclaw who was kind of obsessed with learning and achieving every single thing he could -- has gotten roped in with some bad people or, worse, that he might not even want to be found, so as to not shame her or their mother or to keep them from harm. Whatever his reason is, though, Carewyn knows she has to find out what happened to Jacob and remove the shadow of the Cursed Vaults looming over her if she has any hope of living her life the way she wants. Carewyn is close with her mother, Lane, but has greatly downplayed her involvement with the Cursed Vaults so as not to worry her.

Carewyn’s biggest flaw is her pride. Although she’s made a lot of friends at Hogwarts, she has difficulty showing vulnerability and tries to be perfect in absolutely everything she does. If she doesn’t think she can do something, Carewyn tends to ignore it and/or pretend it doesn’t matter. To complicate matters, when she started at Hogwarts, she actually dreamed of doing all of the normal things Hogwarts students do, like joining clubs, the Quidditch team, and the Frog Choir, but because of her brother Jacob and the Cursed Vaults, she’s had to basically put all of her more selfish ambitions on the back burner. After writing to her mother for advice, Carewyn selflessly gave up her spot in the Frog Choir -- something she really, really wanted -- to Merula with the thought that since she earned the spot once, she could always get it back the following year when there would be room for both her and Merula, but even that ended up having to be put off because of her quest to find the Cursed Vaults. Carewyn enjoys watching and playing Quidditch, but is reluctant to commit to the Slytherin team because she’s afraid of letting them down. Carewyn is actually kind of a stick in the mud too! Unlike her brother Jacob, Carewyn is a meticulous organizer and planner who believes everything has its place, and despite liking Tonks and Tulip quite a bit personality-wise, she can’t stand the idea of most pranks, thinking they end up really mean-spirited and kind of stupid rather than anything funny. (This of course only makes her a fantastic target for pranks among her friends, who think she needs to lighten up!) Appropriate to a Slytherin, though, Carewyn can also be a little manipulative -- despite having a very strong moral compass, she isn’t above putting on an innocent face, playing mind games, or out right lying if it’ll help her reach her goals. She likes to look her best around everyone, both in her fashion sense and in how she behaves, and she hates it when her more negative impulses or insecurities peek through. Her biggest insecurity is her lack of control about her own life. Because she feels like she’s the one with the most drive to find the Cursed Vaults and break their enchantments, Carewyn has subconsciously assumed all responsibility for the fall-out and blames herself if anyone else is put in danger because of her search for her brother or because of the Vaults. She wants to control absolutely everything in her life, but the most she can control nearly all of the time is her attitude, her workspace, and how she presents herself, so she does so. Her greatest fear would be a threat she’d have no hope of controlling or overcoming -- namely, Voldemort.

Relationship-wise, Carewyn’s closest friends are Chiara, Bill, Talbott, Charlie, and Barnaby. She also really respects the eccentric Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Orion, and fancies Ravenclaw’s own “Style Wizard,” Andre Egwu, who shares her love of Quidditch and fashion. The thing Carewyn likes best about Andre is how passionate he is about his interests and therefore how much fun their conversations are. Fortunately Carewyn’s interest is reciprocated -- Andre and Carewyn attended the Celestial Ball together and have now been on two dates, one at Madame Puddifoot’s and one in one of the Hogwarts Greenhouses after a Valentine’s party hosted by Gilderoy Lockhart that neither of them remember very well. (META NOTE: As mentioned, I probably would’ve paired Carewyn with Chiara if ANY of the dating events would’ve let me, but I really like Andre too. And after choosing him for the Celestial Ball, it only felt right for Carewyn to stick with him, as I see her as a very monogamous sort, relationship-wise.)

Carewyn latched onto Chiara very quickly because of her “outcasted” status as a werewolf, and since then, she’s sort of become Chiara’s own personal Sirius Black, using her hawk Animagus form to keep Chiara company when she transforms. The Weasley family (Bill especially) sort of filled the hole that Jacob left in Carewyn’s life, but because Carewyn loves magical creatures, she really enjoys talking about dragons with Charlie and everything else with Barnaby. (Barnaby really enjoys whenever Carewyn sings to the creatures she’s working with to try to calm them down.) Carewyn was also pleasantly surprised to find out that Talbott enjoys poetry, given that she loves the arts (music especially), so she encourages him wholeheartedly in his writing, even if her enthusiasm kind of weirds Talbott out a bit. (He likes it, though.) Carewyn clashes most with Tulip (largely because of Carewyn’s aforementioned dislike of mischief), Ismelda (her sadistic streak turns Carewyn off big time), Skye (Carewyn was really upset when Skye started telling rumors about Erika Rath without any proof!), and Professor Rakepick (who Carewyn at present doesn’t trust at all, but will be play nicely with if it’ll help her find out what happened to her brother). (META NOTE: I also adore that Carewyn and Rakepick have some physical similarities, even though that wasn’t on purpose -- it just makes for great visual symbolism, considering that Rakepick is clearly trying to groom Carewyn as one of her apprentices!) Carewyn is also pretty protective of Ben and now Penny, since her younger sister Bea has gotten trapped in a portrait thanks to the Vaults’ most recent curse.

Although the so-called “Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts,” Merula Snyde, would love it if she were Carewyn’s main rival at school, Carewyn’s kind of gotten tired of the old song and dance Merula’s done with her these last five years and now tends to just ignore her terrible behavior. When Merula is willing to play nice, Carewyn’s glad for her help, but she honestly just isn’t interested in indulging Merula when she’s being awful anymore (which is often). And as much as Carewyn may think of Merula as immature and irritating, she knows that Merula had it rough growing up and that the two of them have a few things in common, like their love of music, and her mother (who was a Ravenclaw like her brother) would counsel her to choose the more peaceful route over active hostility. Carewyn wouldn’t call Merula a friend exactly, but she’s more of an ally of an enemy purely out of necessity, and for that, Carewyn shows Merula the base level of compassion and respect, but nothing more.

Carewyn’s favorite professors are Flitwick -- who taught her about Wizard Dueling and teaches her favorite class, Charms -- and McGonagall -- the one teacher who she respects above all others and would never have the heart to lie to. Being a Slytherin, Carewyn also trusts Snape’s judgement, even if she gets little of the standard favoritism from him: she was all too eager to try to help him spy on Rakepick. She also adores Care of Magical Creatures and probably would enjoy History of Magic more if Professor Binns didn’t teach the class, since her mother Lane works as a magical historian.

Carewyn’s love of magical creatures has prompted her to adopt several pets and magical creatures on the Hogwarts grounds. Her most constant companion is her orange tabby cat Mimi (named for the halfhearted “meows” she gives), but Tulip also gave Carewyn a toad she named Sir Robin the Brave, or “Robin” for short (kudos to anyone who gets the reference!!). At the magical creature preserve, Carewyn has trained a Niffler named Wicket, a Fairy named Belle, a Welsh Green Dragon named Esmeralda, a Porlock named Tumnus, and an Abraxan Winged Horse named Arjuna. Carewyn’s connection with her Abraxan is also beautifully reflected in her Patronus, which is also a Winged Horse.

I’m looking forward to seeing where my curse-breaking baby goes from here! For those of you who have advanced further in the game than me, I can’t wait to catch up with you!

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