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ancient-cats-unite · 2 years

Text

Rock and Hang (pt.2)

Moneko hangs out with the Rock Revengers.

"Oh we had some GREAT STUFF! Rocker Cat jammed with us!"

"Oh! How is he?"

"Dudes still got it! You two should play together again!"

The chestnut did a large gasp.

"WE SHOULD HAVE A JAM SESSION!"

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"I dunno. I'm playing in Sakuranai's new play.."

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

Everyone hitched their breath. That topic was taboo to discuss in front of them. Considering past situations..

"Oh sweet strawberry, you REALLY shouldn't do it."

The bee rustled his hair. The tension grew in the room, especially for the crab. The crab probably got the worst treatment.

"Why?"

Finally the crab spoke up, filled with rage.

"Dude can eat some monkey ASS! He left us in the dust for what? Unsuitable position? Our band is centered about hating that DOUCHEBAG!"

"Oi, can we change the topic? Listen Moneko, he really isn't a good person. Lets leave it at that."

It grew silent for a long time. The mortar player looked at the bag and had an idea. He dramatically unveiled the bag on the table.

"We got you CAIK!"

The cake was vanilla topped with whipped cream and stawberries. An icing drawing of CAT-8 BEHEMOTH's chef was on top, doing a thumbs up.

"THA BEST OF THA BEST!"

"Ooh! You got Iron Legion! I'll get plates!"

Moneko went up to get her guests plates and cutlery. The tension grew back as the Revengers were left alone.

"Boys? Lets never talk about, y'know, him?"

"Got it. God, I'm going to shove my boot so far up his ass, he'll be tasting faux leather for a week!"

"Mhmm. Lets try to have fun now, okay?"

Moneko came back, plates styled up in both hands. A small companion cat carried forks and a knife half asleep.

"Aw yeah! Thanks kiddo!"

The mortar player cut up some pieces and gave some out. Then they all had a challenge to eat them with no hands. Moneko was laughing along, having cake with close pals. The Rock Revengers definetely felt the same.

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

"Oh my Cat God, this night rocked!"

Moneko was still giggling.

"Yeah, too bad we can't stay. We have autograph signings early morning."

The crab slipped his platforms on at the door.

"Oh yeah! I forgot my suprise!"

Moneko scampered upstairs to get her gift. She came back with kandi bracelets. They had coloured beads that captured each rockers color scheme. The middle row had metal spikes with silver beads.

"YOOOOOO! I'M TOTALLY PUTTING THIS ON!"

The mortar player was hyped, sliding on his bright green and fern bracelet.

"Nice handiwork, strawberry."

The bee put his black and yellow one on.

"Eyyyy! This is neat! Ow, spikey!"

The chestnut had his brown and beige one, admiring the spikes.

"This means the WORLD to me! Thanks Moneko!"

The crab brandished his neon red and orange beads.

"No problem! I'm just glad we're friends!"

They all hugged Moneko and wished her goodnight.

______________________

//Eh, why not. The gang have a nice night! Special thanks to FraxiomMusic for inspiration!//

#the battle cats #battle cats #tbc #feline fanfics #implied abuse #<- sakuranai is a bitch #rock revengers really dont want moneko to go through what they dealth with #iron legion ALWAYS gets a food mention #i kinda want to make the rock revengers friendship bracelets.

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winchesterandpie · 5 years

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Part of the Company Part 4 (Thorin x reader)

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Word count: 2199

Warnings: None... maybe some vaguely morbid thoughts

A/N: Eyyyy, so this hasn’t been edited very thoroughly, so sorry for any mistakes! But, you’ll see more of Thorin’s feelings a little, and we’re finally going to get some action!!! (plotwise). I use one word of Khuzdul - I’ll probably start using more as the story goes, but the translation is integrated into the paragraph. Translations are from https://islenthatur.wordpress.com/welcome/

Feedback and reblogs are hugely appreciated! Gif is not mine!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

I slid from Obsidian’s saddle easily when Thorin called a halt, unfazed by the long days already spent in the saddle. We had been traveling for a few days now, and had made good time overall. By now, of course, the company was well established in setting up camp for the night and moved about their various tasks quickly after untacking their ponies. Leaving Dian with a command to stay in the area and warn for danger, I turned and went a little deeper into the trees to gather some firewood, as was my task.

I had barely gotten out of sight of the company when I found a newly fallen tree, angled up as it leaned on its neighbor

“And what a lovely sight you are,” I murmured appreciatively to myself, moving to climb the trunk to find the best branches. I hauled myself up quite a ways before managing to find branches dry enough that weren’t too thick around, climbing about as nimbly as a monkey. Of course, I was so focused on getting firewood so we could eat warm food for once that I failed to notice the ominous creaking of the branch I stood on until it snapped. With a yelp, I grabbed onto the branch above me, which happened to be the one I had been cutting down immediately prior to other branch breaking.

“Y/N!” Thorin and Dwalin came sprinting toward where I was now dangling from the tree, weapons drawn as though they though I was being attacked.

“I’m alright,” I called down to them, though my voice was a little strained. I would’ve laughed at their faces when they looked up and saw me hanging helplessly from the tree, except that being in that position does tend to put a damper on things like laughter.

“What in Mahal’s name are you doing up there?” Thorin was well and truly confused as to why I would be up a tree like this.

“Getting firewood, of course,” I returned smoothly. “I can get myself down, don’t you worry.”

“It doesn’t look like it, lass.” Dwalin was grinning, I could hear it in his voice.

“Hold on, I’ll be up there in a moment,” Thorin sighed as he handed his sword to Dwalin and moved toward the trunk of the tree.

“I’m fine!” I exclaimed, giving a last attempt at pulling myself up on the branch. Thorin had almost reached where I was when the branch gave way and I plummeted to the ground, with what I imagine was a startled look on my face. I hit the ground with a thud and an explosive oof! as the branch landed on top of my torso, crushing the air out of my lungs.

“Y/n!” Thorin called worriedly from his perch in the fallen tree as he climbed down, while Dwalin hurried to my side and started to lift the tree branch from off me. Once the weight had been lifted, my lungs heaved for breath and I rolled over for a better position to breathe in, coughing hard. “Are you alright, lass?” he had finally made it down to me and pulled me up into a sitting position, holding me as steady as he could while my body rocked from the force of my coughs.

“Do I look… alright… to you?!” I gasped between bouts of coughs, which were gradually slowing down and becoming less forceful.

“What were you doing up there?” his voice was rougher now that he could see I was recovering. “You could have been killed in that fall!”

“Yeah, so? I wasn’t,” I replied after a moment, feeling more secure in my breathing “Just a little winded, is all. Besides, if you’re so worried about me dying, why did you let me come at all?”

“She’s got a point, Thorin,” Dwalin grinned at me. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said when the king shot him a look, turning to go back to the camp, pulling the branch I had been getting as firewood along with him. Once he was out of sight, I was pulled against something solid but soft. I identified Thorin’s coat almost immediately, relaxing into the arms that meant safety.

“I don’t know if you can manage this, but if you could please not scare the living daylights out of me again, that would be lovely,” he murmured into my hair, his voice shaking a little bit.

“It isn’t as though I was trying to fall, though.” I pulled back far enough to look into his piercingly blue eyes, bopping him lightly on the nose with my finger.

“I know… but…” Thorin’s eyes were soft, concerned as he looked back into mine. “I couldn’t stand it if I lost you. You’ve been my friend as long as I can remember and I need you here with me.”

“It’d take more than that to get rid of me, Oakenshield,” I couldn’t help but grin at him.

“I sincerely hope so,” the dark-haired dwarf leaned his forehead against mine, noses touching and breath mingling. It was more intimate than mere friendship would merit, and I wondered briefly if there was a hope that my growing feelings were reciprocated.

“Y/n?” he said after a long moment, drawing back slightly.

“What is it, Thorin?” I asked curiously.

“Just… Can you…” Poor dwarf couldn’t seem to force words out. “Do you…”

“Oh, just spit it out already.” Adorable though it may be, I was tired of not knowing what it was he wanted to say.

“Try to… be more careful next time, will you?” I got the feeling that wasn’t what he had originally been planning on asking, but given I wouldn’t be able to pry it out of that stubborn dwarf until he wanted to say it, I simply nodded and smiled at him before resting my head on his shoulder. We had barely been sitting like that for thirty seconds when the call for dinner rose up from the camp. I shot up, all my energy returning in a single instant with the promise of food. That certainly had Thorin laughing his rear off.

“We’ll camp here for the night. Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them,” Thorin called out commands as we began to set up camp.

“A farmer and his family used to live here,” Gandalf mused, looking at the abandoned, dilapidated farmhouse.

“Oin, Gloin,” Thorin continued, not paying any attention to the wizard. “Get a fire going.”

“Right you are.”

“What, you’re not going to have me collect firewood?” I teased when his gaze hesitated on me.

“Well, look how that turned out last time,” he tossed back. “I think you’ve officially been relieved of firewood collecting duties.” I faked a pout, but it didn’t hold for long before I broke into giggles, eliciting a chuckle from Thorin as well.

“I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley,” Gandalf interrupted our joking with a serious tone.

“I have told you already, I will not go near that place.” Thorin’s disdain for the elves had not lessened with time.

“Why not? The elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice.”

“I do not need their advice.”

“We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us.”

“Help? A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father.” The dark-haired dwarf was most definitely not pleased with the suggestion, even though Elrond had had nothing to do with the mountain’s loss and Thorin knew it.

“You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past.”

“I did not know that they were yours to keep.”

“He’s right,” I said as Gandalf stormed away. “You know that as well as I do.”

“I will not go to the Elves.” He refused to meet my eyes.

“Thorin, don’t let an ancient grudge prevent you from accepting help when you need it.”

“Y/N, you know what they did to us.” His pained gaze met mine.

“Of course I know. I was there, right beside you…” I paused, searching for a good way to word my thoughts. “I have been at your side, supporting you through all of this. Has my counsel ever led you astray?”

“No, it has not.”

“Then trust me with this, Thorin,“ I pleaded quietly. “Please.” Maybe, if I could change the events this early in the story, Thorin would stand a better chance of surviving the final battle. I had just enough hope to cling desperately to the idea.

“Bâheluh, you know that I trust you.” (my friend of all friends)

“But…?” I nudged after a long pause.

“But I cannot do as you advise.” As it turns out, Fate is pretty stubborn about getting her way. I would not thwart her so easily.

“I know,” I whispered, so softly I wasn’t sure he heard me.

“I am sorry,” he said, bringing his hands to my upper arms, as though trying to make me understand. As though by understanding he could remove the sadness from my eyes.

I already understood.

“Supper’s ready!” came the call from the fire, and we jumped apart, startled. Without another word, we made our way to the pot of stew.

“Here, do us a favor: take this to the lads.” Bofur was sending Bilbo off with two bowls for Fili and Kili, as everyone else settled in, bantering and telling stories across the fire.

Eventually, the joking died down as the food was finished and we set about preparing for the evening.

“Where’s Bilbo? Shouldn’t he be back by now?” I noticed suddenly that he wasn’t with us.

“Trolls! They’ve taken four of the ponies!” Kili and Fili burst out of the trees. And Bilbo wasn’t with them.

“What about Bilbo?” Bofur asked worriedly as the company sprang into alertness.

“He’s still there, just to keep an eye on things.” I barely had time to wish I remembered this part better, but due to the passage of a literal century since the last time I saw it, the details were a bit fuzzy.

Weapons in hand, we made our way through the trees behind Fili and Kili to where they had left Bilbo. The hobbit most definitely was not just keeping an eye on things. In fact, he was being chased around the campfire by three mountain trolls. Impulsively, several of the dwarves took a step forward, as if intending to rush in.

“Wait, you morons!” I whisper shouted. Thankfully they paused, long enough for me to get another word in. “We can’t just go barging in there without any sort of a plan or we’ll all be troll food.”

“Are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn’t?” Our attention was brought back to Bilbo, who was being held by his feet.

“Right then. Kili, go around, make a distraction,” Thorin said, gesturing at his nephew.

“What sort of distraction?”

“Anything’ll do, but if it takes one of them out, then even better.” He was quick to nod and get going while the rest of us braced ourselves in anticipation.

“Hold his toes over the fire. Make him squeal.” Come on, Kili, hurry up, I thought anxiously. All of a sudden, the young dwarf jumped into view, slashing the back of a troll’s leg. Another cut to the front of it and the troll went down with a howl.

“Drop him!” Kili shouted, sword held easily in his hand.

“You what?” the troll replied incredulously.

“I said,” Kili began, swinging his sword menacingly in circle before continuing, “drop him.” With a snarl, the troll did exactly that, throwing Bilbo at Kili, who caught him.

Then, all hell broke loose. As Kili toppled from the impact, we charged out from the bushes, startling the mountain trolls. Thirteen quick, agile dwarves (plus me) were proving to be just too much of a handful for the trolls. Especially when they were armed with all manner of deadly weapons.

Just a stab stab here, and a chop chop there. Here a stab, there a chop, everywhere a stab stab, I practically sang in my mind as I jumped nimbly behind the troll, taking the opportunity to slash at its legs. Unfortunately, trolls have very thick skin, so I couldn’t hamstring it as I would a different opponent. In the confusion, I quickly lost track of Bilbo. That is, until the two of them were holding him by his arms and legs, and we all came to a tumultuous stop.

“Lay down your arms, or we’ll rip his off!” The trolls had the upper hand and they knew it. My mind raced to find a solution, anything even remotely feasible to avoid putting us at their mercy. After a long moment of staredown, Thorin planted his sword in the ground reluctantly and the rest of us followed suit.

Part Five is now up!!

Forever Tags:

@riddikulus-obsessions @addictionmarvel @peppermint--teas @mercedesbarnes @javapeach

Part of the Company Tags:

@tschrist1

If you want to be on the tags list, just let me know!!

#Thorin x reader #Thorin Oakenshield x reader #thorin x you #thorin oakenshield x you #part of the company #The Hobbit #Middle Earth #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit rewrite #reader insert

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lumiereswig · 6 years

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Please do the ENTIRETY of Forgotten! Hahaha I’m joking, pick your favorite part because that fic is v long 😍

happily, this gonna get l o n g

“The ball was flawless. In the garden, the roses continued to reach to the sky, and the storm brushed away; the lights shut off in the palace, one by one, and the music faded to silence. The prince went to bed with one or two or three pretty women he wouldn’t care for by the next day. Up in his room, Lumiere popped open a bottle of champagne.”

I set the opening to take place almost immediately after “Lit By The Sun,” though this time showing the evening Lumiere and Plumette never got—the stolen croquembouche up in their bedroom, the sharing of champagne among the servants. In the original timeline, obvs they didn’t get that—they got fire and feathers instead—but yeah. I am totally alluding to my own goddamn fics.

Plumette, lighting the candles by the bed, grinned at him over the flames. He laughed and raised his glass.

It’s not a lumiereswig post if there’s not a fucking fire reference.

“He’s turning just like his father—the prince’s father was like this, too,” Mrs. Potts explains to the musicians, who know nothing about the palace or its politics. They nod and move closer to each other on the bed. “We don’t know what he’d do without us. He’ll be fine, though; we try not to intervene. D’you only have wine up here, Lumiere? I could use a cup of tea.”

Foreshadowing of future bullshit, and also reminding the readers that Garderobe and Cadenza WERE NOT PART OF THIS PALACE-POLITICS SHIT. They did not deserve to be cursed!! fuck you agathe!!!! #justiceforgarderenza2k18

“If you cannot take a little sparkling wine, get yourself to bed, grandmother,” laughs Lumiere, and she swipes at his arms and makes him laugh. He eases into a seat between Cogsworth and Plumette and throws his arms around them.

Really trying to remind everyone how fucking close the staff is. The fam. Also, fuck you bill condon for not letting lumiere hug cogsworth every .3 seconds

“Think how long it has been!” he says. “Forty years for you, Cogsworth, but most of my life for mine. Why, I came here as a teenager—imagine me, only a little older than Chip! Fresh out of Paris and still reeking of the apothecary shop.” He grimaces, thinking of his father’s dusty store in a side-street of the city. He had fled, then, looking for the glamor his missed; in his room in Paris he had practiced dance steps, reveled in fashion, adopted the graceful movements of the court as rebellion against the bourgeois facts of an ordinary existence. He had come to this palace, and he had lit into life; dancing and feasting and glowing like gold made Lumiere’s heart sing.

EYYYY IT’S A HEADCANON I TOTALLY MADE UP

but tbh it makes sense to me (and has always made sense to me) that for all his glamor-gold, courtiers-and-candelabras bullshit, lumiere is not from an upper crust background. he’s too extra to have been born to it. That level of golden eyeliner and tequila has to be aspired to.

“We met in this palace, do you remember, mon trésor?” Plumette is close in his arms; her scent—fresh and light, like candy and macarons—right beside him. “I was only fourteen, and I loved you right away.”

“I loved you before I met you,” murmurs Lumiere. “I could never forget.”

Lots more foreshadowing, and also backshadowing. Gotta remind the idiots in the audience which motherfuckers in this story are in love.

The next day is their day off. It is their one day off in the year.

honestly this makes no sense (one day off a year???) but it’s adam. pre-curse adam. i can write him to get away with pretty much any bullshit and be like “””*shrug* uhhh he’s a beast, dudes, of course he banned puppies and kittens from the palace and hates daisies and sunshine”“

also tbh i hate the whole adam dialogue sequence, it’s really badly written

Adam stands in the lonely, empty halls. If he stands in the tower, he can see them weaving their way through the forest and down to the village, to spend their day in the company of each other, in Lumiere and Plumette’s case, or with loved ones, in the case of Mrs. Potts. No matter what, all the servants have each other. And Adam has nobody.

casual evermore references whenever we can’t get in a flame pun

….after all, at least when he yelled they looked at him.

someone told me this line broke them and i am forever pleased. yes mofos!!! relish my very slipshod, mostly shite grasp of the english language!!!!! revel in my poor grasp of human psychology!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Lumiere! The night grows old.”

The crone grows young.

to make up for the shit in the previous chapter, I really enjoy this bit. the whole bashing-between-the-palace-and-the-village nonsense just makes me happy.

Belle wakes up to a jolt in the road, and the rough wool blanket on her face, and the smell of cheese and paint and horse and wind clinging to her skin. She rubs her eyes and tries to wipe away the sleep. They’re in the wagon, again, and Maurice is hunched up in the bench, encouraging Philippe to trot faster. The contents of Belle’s entire life are jammed in around her, a moving nest of drawings and gear-boxes and packets of cabbage-seed.

aaand we’re with belle. I had to rewrite this chapter about five million times because it wasn’t working—I had planned it out too much in advance, you know, and was just like regurgitating the writing rather than writing it—but I’m happy with the textural detail of this bit. Again, sometimes it pays to use the words around what you’re going for rather than the literal sensation; in this case, cheese and paint and horse and wind, and that rough wool blanket. Home, but also chill, and travel, and being uncomfortable, and the 18th century equivalent of going on a road trip and eating crackers in the backseat while dad’s up front and the crackers making the seat all gritty and reading books in the light of the passing streetlamps, ya feel?

Lilles, Reims, Amiens

i don’t understand french geography

A tiny, delicate gesture from his long fingers; it is a surprisingly sophisticated movement for a man in a yellow peasant’s vest, with candle wax creased in the dirt between his fingernails.

this whole chapter is slightly hard to read because it’s clearly trying too hard, but i hope i got across (or at least, whacked you across the forehead with) the bits i felt were important: lumiere’s current emptiness, but the last imprints of who he ought to be hanging around. i also tend to mention the peasant’s vest too many fucking times, just because the image of lumiere wearing anything that’s not satin & silk is fucking devestating. also, it will be important later, and i need yall to remember that LUMIERE DOESNT LOOK LIKE HE NORMALLY LOOKS

“I am nothing now,” says the man, in a flash of vehemence so sharp it is like seeing a flame in the middle of the forest. He looks up to her—his face broad, and white; and it is an empty face, and beyond the fire in his words there is nothing there at all. It is as if someone washed out all his color, and left him only with his yellow vest.

you can tell, again, this is a lumiereswig fic because suddenly the language is all about fires and flashing and flickers and flames and there’s probably going to be a reference to the sun fucking setting at some point

also, honestly, this was hard to write because i was seeing it as a fucking movie in my head, and transcribing ‘ewan mcgregor lies on a village stoop looking fucking dismal’ is not what literary writing is made of

He welcomes her to the stoop with the flick of a wrist and a tiny nod with the pipe,

just to remind everyone once a-fucking-gain, Lumiere Is Not Normal, And You Can Tell Because He’s Not Being Very Welcoming. like honestly if you don’t say hello by doing a song and dance what the fuck are you doing

“I knew someone once who treasured books that way as well,” he says, and a smile drifts across his face, homeless. Something in him is sparking up at the story: dim, and faint, but laughing. “He once made me read the whole Odyssey—”

ok yes thank god the fic is finally getting good again

Sorceresses turning people to pigs, and the lily-eaters forgetting their homes, and Penelope undoing the days until her husband returns

ON. THE FUCKING. NOSE

also if i make a literary reference in a fic i am almost 100% of the time trying to make an obvious as fuck connection between the two

Deeply, deeply frightened. Not of the man on the stoop—she has never seen anyone more harmless, to be quite honest; he is such an empty man, with such silent, lifeless limbs—but of the thing inside his eyes when he speaks of his past. It is Other—a thing not rooted in a Parisian background, or the empty face, or the subdued soul. It is a large streak of gray inside the man’s blue eyes, a gray empty and unnatural and as hollow as cold ice. Staring at his eyes, Belle finds herself clutching her arms with fear.

ahhhh fuck subtlty has gone totally out the window. yall are kind and see what i was going for, but i swear this could be better done if i knew shit

It is obvious to Belle that this is a practiced ritual, the sharing of the secret wine.

in retrospect this fic would be sadder if cogsworth or lumiere weren’t friends, but uhh…i just couldnt bring myself to it.

“Oh là là, he acts as if the French accent is difficult,” says Lumiere, puffing smoke….

LIKE YOU CAN SPEAK FRENCH ANYWAY, YOU SCOTTISH DIPSHIT.

“Get off my stoop!” yells the woman. “D’you have wine down there, Lumiere?“

“If you cannot take a little cheap wine, get yourself to bed, grandmother,” calls Lumiere.

and that’s called taking yourself too seriously and referencing your own fic from a few chapters ago

“Mrs. Potts, the crockery-man’s wife,” says Lumiere, and takes a large gulp of the wine. “I barely know her. Thank God.”

PROBABLY THE BEST LINE IN THIS FIC SO FAR. fucking love the simplicity that does so much more than every labored reference to emtpy fucking limbs or colorless eyes beforehands. one simple line and we’re all fucking realizing THE EXTENT OF ALL THIS SHIT

i gotta head off now but i’ll do the rest later tonight

[send me one of my fics (or a bit from a fic) and i’ll do director’s commentary on it—ask here]

#asks #forgotten #batb fanfic

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