#this makes it sound like I am currently Up To Shenanigans which is not Precisely the case. you'll see.

[chiropteracupola]

fiddling with my design for alison a little

#em draws stuff #the flight of the heron #alison grant #the lines have been scanned for weeks but only now did I actually get around to coloring her in (yes I was procrastinating tasks again) #there's a lot I'm not satisfied with here but it's okay #and I'm very pleased with the brocade pattern (with the whole outfit actually) for Reasons You'll Eventually See... #this makes it sound like I am currently Up To Shenanigans which is not Precisely the case. you'll see. #on the point of explosion again (as is typical) which doesn't leave a ton of time for shenaniganery

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Dark Shenanigans - Nandor x (f)reader

Summary: It’s Nadja’s something hundredth birthday, with that said, you’re on a mission to make it great.

Warning: fluff, general vampire nonsense

Masterlist

“Yeah being a half vampire half human does have its perks. I mean for one I can do all that cool vampire shit and I can go out in the sunlight...so that helps for when they’re all being really annoying.” You admit with a casual shrug to one of the documentary cameras before turning to an isle of party supplies. “So anyways we’re at this store.”

The camera shifts to the multiple arras of supplies and materials at the local supermarket in Staten Island that you and your vampire lover’s human familiar, Guillermo, currently are. Specifically on the hunt for birthday decorations for Nadja and ghost Nadja who’s possessed a strange looking doll for the time being.

Since the other four actual full vampires can’t shop for themselves at this time of day or really in general, you and Guillermo have been given such an honorable task in making Nadja’s birthday the best one yet. Considering she’s the most well balanced in the head out of the four of them and is the only other lady of the manor.

“Hey Y/N, how’s this look?” Wonders Guillermo as he holds up a bunch of Mardi Gras beads of yellows, purples, and greens. “Comments, questions, concerns?” He adds with a small smile.

Eyeing up the beads, your head shifts over to the other various colors, “Hrmm, G I’m feeling the vibe you’re going for this year and I like it, but let’s go with Nadja colors.”

Guillermo’s dark eyes light up at your positive suggestion, “Right! So the red and black ones then?”

“Yup. She’ll love that shit.” You state with a satisfied nod of approval, “Let’s get some black and gold confetti from over there and oh, those masquerade masks look cool as fuck.”

You pick up and test out various masks in the background as Guillermo adds some bits of dialogue for the documentary crew, “Um yeah she’s really cool isn’t she.” He says with a smile while glancing at you then back to the camera, “Which is kind of odd since Y/N’s been with Nandor since 1793 so you’d think she’d be a little more like them but no, she’s super chill and really nice.” Suddenly his face goes a bit serious as he leans in to whisper, “But she did kill a whole street gang once when they threw a slur at me so I wouldn’t mess with her. For your safety.”

The camera pans back over to an oblivious you who’s put on a masquerade mask and is swinging a plastic light saber around with a whole lot more accuracy and grace then would a normal person. The camera then pans back to Gullimero, “Um, I’m just gonna....make sure she doesn’t smack anyone.”

——

Arms full of groceries of food for you and Gullimero, as well as random party decorations for Nadja’s birthday tomorrow night, you use the bottom of your boot to skillfully open the door as the documentary crew and Guillermo follows suit. Guillermo now on the verge of falling over with the large heart shaped pillow in his arms that’s covering most of his body.

You don’t feel tired in the slightest due to your half vampiric abilities so this is nothing to you, “Alright.” You state, turning on your heel to face the crew and Guillermo, “They’re asleep so we gotta be extra sneaky now, I don’t want Nadja catching us with all this cool spooky birthday shit. Everyone to the attic!” You whisper yell before leading the charge to the attic.

They all follow as quietly and as quickly as they can and then soon enough in no time are you and Guillermo back outside in the sunny garden trying to figure out if you should blow up the giant sea monster pool floaty.

“I mean it would look cool as hell and no doubt out-do whatever the fuck boring thing Lazlo probably has planned.” You quip with a shrug while the two of you stare thoughtfully at the small gloomy dark pond. “He’s got no chance with us. I’ve won best decorator and card maker for two hundred years in a row.”

Guillermo side eyes you in honest amazement, “Wow that’s a lot of years. And cards.”

“I know. I was an artist in the 12th century but my no good terrible good for nothing piece of garbage trash sexist human husband, who I was forced to marry when I was only sixteen, took all the credit for my artwork in that era.” You confirm with a growl, “But it stings less because once I finally grew into my powers and strength at eighteen I simply made his untimely demise look like an accident.” You add with a smirk.

“Oh, wow.” Mutters the intrigued familiar.

“Precisely. The old fool was thrown off his horse because I told Philip, the horse, to throw him off. And he did. Which killed the idiot so I got the house and all of his money.”

“That’s......neat.” Mutters Guillermo as he shoots the camera crew from behind you and him a nervous look. “Uh the suns going down so I should probably help Nandor out of his coffin.”

Raising your head to the sky you immediately see how the sun has begun to paint the clouds in beautiful colors of oranges, reds, light pinks, and darkening purples. “Oh, how bout that. Yeah alright let’s get inside.” You nod to Guillermo before turning to walk towards the manor’s giant mahogany doors.

——

Turning the handle and walking a couple feet into the large main room that holds itself as a sort of crossroads for all the other various connecting hallways and staircases. You don’t make it even three more steps towards the left ascending staircase before you hear the highly recognizable voice of your one and only.

“Y/N! My lovely wife and favorite person still ever so lovely!” Announces Nandor loudly with a grand smile showing off his pearly white fangs, “How I have missed you and your morning kisses. Where have you been off to?” He wonders softly as you smile a big dumb love-struck grin right back up at him, you’d absolutely die to hear that accent one last time.

“I can’t tell you right now it’s a secret!” You whisper yell back, causing his thick dark brows to scrunch up in confusion.

“But I am your lovely strong puff dragon Y/N.” Whines Nandor adorably as you roll your eyes at the cameras before looking back up at him.

“Fine. Come here then.”

In an instant he’s at your side, excitedly awaiting what secretive news you will tell him, “Okay, so we know it’s Nadja’s birthday tomorrow right?”

“Yes. I remember because she hasn’t shut up about it.”

“Right. So me and Gullimero got some fun surprise birthday party decorations and they’re in the attic and we can’t tell Nadja.”

Nandor gives you a knowing look of affirmation as he leans in closer to you, his demeanor suddenly shifting into a more saddened one, “You went shopping without me?” He says quietly.

Leaning up to give him a quick peck on the cheek your hands instantly find his, “Just for a little while, but I still need to find more stuff so....you wanna come?”

Nandor’s big dark eyes light up with joy as you hand him a kind smile, “Yes! Let us go in search of unknown treasures for our lady friend Nadja so she will not be mad at us for terrible dull gifts of friendship.”

Laughing you give his hands a playful squeeze, “Come on I’ll race you to Party City!” You say before leading him past the camera crew and Guillermo who simply watches the two of you leave, glad to have an hour of peace.

“There’s a whole city for partying? Y/N why have we never been to this place?”

——

“Y/N there are no people partying here.” Whines your vampire lover in puzzlement as he follows you from the entrance to a side isle. “You said this was a city for partying.”

“That’s just the name of the store Nans.” You retort with a small chuckle as he looks from right to left at all the color coded party plates and napkins galore.

“Well the title is very misleading.”

“Agreed.”

Turning to the right you guide him towards the decretory pirate themed isle in search of something that will peak his interest. Also you wanted so badly to make it to this spot but Gullimero was a man on a mission so your intention was thwarted for when you had Nandor with you.

Speed walking down the pirate themed isle you quickly halt all movement as Nandor’s large body stops within less than an inch from your back. Smiling brightly you snatch the desired object in front of you and as swift as a cat turn to face him.

“Have you come for a dual my old enemy?” You speak slyly, eyes narrowed as you hold the foam sword right in front of his face. “I sense a nervousness about you. Tell me, are you ready to face your inevitable bloody end?”

Staring at the pointy foam, his dark puppy eyes shift over to you as an adorable fangy grin breaks out across his pale face, “Seems you have come prepared, oh radiant and alluring seductress. Well, so have I!” Shouts Nandor before grabbing two foam swords from off the rack and swinging them in both hands like a mad man.

Taking a cautious step back you hold your pathetic five dollar sword in both hands like a true warrior ready for battle, “Only one shall leave this place alive.” You affirm with a smirk, “And it’s not going to be you.”

“Arrrrrggg.” Bellows your lover as he charges you like the true conqueror that he once was. But all to soon do you swiftly duck under his arms and swat him over his stomach with a confident thwack sound.

He makes a puny little “oww” as you turn around to face him once again, “Y/N you hit me kind of hard.” He complains, looking rather defeated and genuinely hurt that you could have intentionally injured him on purpose.

Bringing the plastic weapon down to your side once again, your face suddenly softens as you walk over to him, “Come here you big baby.” You quip sincerely as he leans down so you can give his cheek a quick kiss.

Rising back to his full height, Nandor almost blushes as the corners of his eyes crinkle into a happy smile, “Actually it didn’t hurt at all I just wanted you to kiss me.” Reveals the vampire with a proud grin as you simply roll your eyes.

“Should have known.” You add before turning and snatching up four more plastic foam pirate swords for the others. “Alright let’s get outta here, follow me my love, to the checkout line we shall purchase our weapons of war and partying on the high seas.” You announce with gusto as Nandor stands proudly at your side, ready to follow you anywhere.

“Yes. To check out.”

——

Kicking open the unlocked door, Nandor bursts into the vampire residence with bags full of goodies for Nadja’s birthday party. You right behind him but less dramatically, “We’re back!” You shout to no one in particular as Colin Robinson suddenly appears from out of nowhere, looking ready to leave with his funny little hat and usual beige jacket.

“Oh hey guys,” He starts with a friendly nod, “I’m just heading out on the town tonight. I guess there’s a fair or something in the park and I wanted to test my skill at the ball toss. I’ve been reading up on the body mechanics and how the game is set up which seems pretty basic all in all. Also I really want to win a stuffed bear this time, it might add a little pizazz to my room. Welp see ya’round.” Adds Colin before walking past the two of you without another word and out into the night he goes with some of the camera crew following close behind.

Nandor turns to you with a look of annoyance, “Jeesh I thought he would never leave. Let’s go to your room I want to kiss you some more now.”

“Why my room?”

“Because since you are half vampire you get to sleep in a bed and because I am a full vampire I sleep in a coffin.” Inquires Nandor while looking at you with those big beautiful dark eyes of his, “And my coffin is too small for cuddles so your room will suffice.”

“Yeah that’s a fair point.” You shrug before following him to your room.

After many cuddles leading to other more rated R type activities that lasted until just about sunrise, you finally got some well needed rest while the sun shone high in the sky until she began her dramatic descend back into oblivion. Opening your eyes you slowly rise from out of your comfy bed, already missing the presence of your obsidian eyed lover.

He gets too nervous about your closed windows for fear that the sun might burn him which would be impossible because you black out the glass. But alas, he’s very cautious about these types of things and won’t risk it for anything, though he feels bad about leaving you in the morning, you understand.

Suddenly it dawns on you that today or perhaps tonight, is Nadja’s birthday and you completely forgot to set up any decorations. Shit, how stupid. Throwing the blankets off of you, your feet move quick as you speedily change yesterday’s outfit for something a bit nicer and more clean.

Racing out of your room and into the dimly lit manor hallway, you make a bee line for the attic but before you’re able to reach the steps, Guillermo runs into you, just about knocking you into a wall of various stolen ancient weapons. Sharp ones at that.

That was close.

“Y/N are you okay!” Worries the familiar as you quickly gather your bearings.

“Guillermo! The decorations! Nadja’s birthday!” You whisper yell as the human man simply smiles. “Why are you smiling, this situation does not call for smiles.”

“Don’t worry. While you were sleeping I set up all the decorations.” He replies with a shrug, “No problem.”

“What? But that must have taken you all day, you could have asked me for help. I would have come.” Your brows furrow as he shakes his head, though you still feel bad for not helping with anything.

“Well I did try, but um,” Gullimero awkwardly clears his throat, giving the camera a quick glance, “Nandor was with you and last time I asked for you while you and him where having alone time he threatened to carve out my eyeballs and force feed them to me.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance you take a deep breath, “Sounds like him. Very creative when he wants to be, alright, well....where’s everyone?”

“Oh, they’re not up yet. I was actually on my way to get you. I made blood popsicles and the pool floaty is all done and in the pond.” He says with a sense of pride for his decorating skills. “I think she’ll like what we’ve come up with this year.”

-

Standing in the living room with your three fellow immortals you search a dresser for her card, “Oh shit where’s my card? I could have sworn I had it yesterday on my dresser but I don’t remember seeing it there in the morning. Maybe it’s in this one?”

“Witches!” Hisses Nadja as you huff in frustration, where the hell did you put that damn card?

“Oh, Y/N my love,” Intervenes Nandor with a gentle tug of your sleeve, “I took it with me when I left your room before sunrise because I wanted to put my name on it too so she would know it’s from us.”

“What?” Replies Lazlo dramatically, “Now hold on just a damn minute, this card competition is individually scored so I won’t be having any of this nonsense. I worked really hard on mine this year.”

“Oh lick a donkey’s arse, look here,” You retort with, quickly holding up the card for Nadja, “there are two separate drawings on ours so either way if one of us wins she gets both our pictures. So you better hope your drawing doesn’t resemble a night clubs bathroom wall.”

“Yeah.” Mutters Nandor, who’s hiding behind you while resting both hands on either one of your shoulders as you glare at Lazlo.

“Fine.” Agrees Lazlo begrudgingly, “And mine will be amazing, this bitch of paper took me a whole six months to plan and produce. Can’t get quality this good anywhere else I guarantee it.” Adds Lazlo with a firm nod of self approval as you glance at the nearby camera.

“Right, okay everyone sit it’s time for presents. I want to know what you all got me.” Beams Nadja excitedly as she smiles a fangy grin in delight, plopping herself down in one of the arm chairs. Lazlo quickly finding the other one while you and Nandor seat yourself on the large couch. Colin and Guillermo finding somewhere to sit close by respectfully.

“Well, all I can say is hold onto your socks my dear cause this is going to blow you away.” Smirks Lazlo as he pulls a small box from out of his jacket pocket.

“If it’s a self made business card that says invitation to sexy town I will puke.” You deadpan while Nandor laughs from beside you, causing Lazlo to lose his smirk as Nadja hides her amusement the best she can manage.

“He he, sexy town, nice one Y/N.” Mutters Nandor with a proud grin as you raise a brow at Lazlo who’s giving you a hard glare.

“Oh, my dear pumpkin pie love, don’t listen to Y/N I will love anything you gift me.” Encourages Nadja with a bright welcoming smile, no doubt immediately boosting Lazlo’s once irked mood.

Rolling your eyes you shift a bit to find yourself leaning into Nandor’s body as Nadja opens up the rest of the vampire residents various gifts. A joyous fangy smile gracing her pale features every single time, revealing this birthday party was a thrilling success.

After much more fun that just about lasts throughout the whole night, and some rare but hilarious attempts at dancing between the five of you vampiric individuals. You’re feeling rather sleepy and you can tell Nandor is ready for a trip to dreamland as well.

Swaying to the lowly playing record instrumental, you hold Nandor tight while simultaneously enjoying the feeling of him so close, him doing just the same as he keeps you firmly pressed against his chest. His long dark hair tickles your face as he presses his head to your cheek, doing his absolute best to keep the flow without tripping up.

Sensing his growing fatigue, you gently squeeze his hand, “My love the sun will be up soon, let’s get you to bed, yes?”

A small lazy smile tugs at the corners of his lips while he looks down to meet your gaze, “But my dark angel I’m not tired. I want to dance with you a little longer.” He whines adorably before failing to conceal a big yawn.

Giggling, you lean back to slowly lead him towards the door, “That yawn says otherwise.”

“That wasn’t a yawn Y/N, I was just smiling really big.” He protests, though he still follows your lead to the door.

“I’ve never seen anyone smile like that.” You add with a raised brow.

“Well maybe that’s just how I smile.”

Letting out a breathy snort, you pull away from him to at last take his one hand, “Come. I can’t have a single ray of that dreaded sun to get a taste of your precious skin. Not on my watch.”

Glancing at the closed front door, Nandor squeezes your hand, “Well um, now since you’ve mentioned the sun...I think I’d like to go to my crypt now.” He says, the flash of worry crossing over his face for only a brief moment.

“You sure? I mean a sunrise is pretty beautiful if I’m being honest and I know you never get to see them...”

“Not funny Y/N. And not fair, you know I can’t because I am full vampire.”

“And you’re missing out.”

“And I’d like to stay alive Y/N.”

“Aren’t you dead?”

“Yes and I am your only husband so I need to stay not burnt to a crisp.”

Chuckling, you follow him down the hallway, “Oh really? Don’t want me finding myself with another vampiric lover? Some new beast to sweep me off my feet and take me away into the night.” You tease.

Side eyeing you, he frowns, “No. Don’t I sweep you off your feet?”

Stepping into his crypt you stop him with your hand against his bicep, “Always.” You whisper sincerely with a quick wink, causing him to break out into a big fangy grin.

“Good. And if anyone would try and whoo you I would make sure there would be no more whooing again!” Exclaims Nandor, making the candles rise in flame for only a short second at his rise in emotion for how much he loves you.

“I don’t doubt they would fall by your blade. Not for a second.”

#nandor the relentless #Nandor x reader #nandor x you #nandor x y/n #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows x reader #vampire fun yeah #love my big huggable vampire #:)

[highsviolets]

like real people do, chapter one: obi-wan x handmaiden!reader

summary: in which you and obi-wan stumble into each other’s acquaintance through accidents of honor and pleasure

word count: 3k-ish

cw: brief, brief allusion to body dysmorphia in first paragraph after part one (a). 

A/N: WOW it’s finally here!!! my handmaiden x obi fic!! my first multi chapter!!  anon you are so patient. thank you for bearing with me as i developed this concept and finally got words onto paper. This lil chapter takes place at the beginning of AOTC and sets the scene for all sorts of shenanigans. pls be gentle folkx i am v nervous i hope you love these idiots honorable humans as much as i do. 

*if this is your gif pls lmk!* 

like real people do, a fic by corellians-only 

prologue

Glamor. Satin. Hapan wine and curtseys and a diplomatic accent polishing over your country roots and the knife strapped to your thigh and a propensity to linger in shadows. This is your life, as handmaiden to Senator Padmé Amidala. This is your duty.

Grime. Sweat. Clone armies and custom armour and a commission muddling the balance of peace and deep-rooted affection and unwavering devotion to the Jedi Order. This is Obi-wan’s life, as High General of the Republic. This is his duty.

You meet before the chaos erupts, though, before it spills over the senate security and the temple’s walls and starts incinerating the foundations of life itself.

You meet before the chaos erupts, but your acquaintance is tangled with its aching tendrils. You do not see each other, at first. So many things are in the way. But slowly, gently, acquaintance forms into friend forms into companion forms into lover over cups of tea and night watches and snatched moments of vulnerability in a world that is determined to wrest your soul from your body. Armor and silk and robes are stripped away; duties that once swathed you tightly become more gentle. When you are together it is just you and him, but when you are in the world you are handmaiden and he is general.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves: let us go back to the beginning, when the wholeness was yet separate. Let us go back to the beginning, and meet ourselves anew. Let us go back to the beginning, where everything divines its purpose.

part one (a)

Shimmersilk voile glistens as you turn in the mirror. The tender glow of artificial sun lamps is enraptured by the diaphanous weave, and its metallic threads gleam under such ministrations. It’s a dress that drips with regality. A sense of noblesse oblige seems to ooze from every swish of the cape flowing from your cap sleeves, and you sigh. The act is heavy, and the cape grumbles as your shoulders heave with the motion. Brilliant flickers of gold and silver mock you as you continue to shift from side to side, scrutinizing your body from each angle. Another sigh leaves escapes through your nose, but this one is softer, gentler, more like the gossamer that now encloses you — more like the woman you been trained to be. You will never be as petite or slight as the Senator, but that, you observe, wrangling to adjust one final hairpin into your headpiece, was never quite the point. Your job is to stand in for her ladyship: not to assume her person.

The offending hairpin proves obstinate. You surrender to the cause and submit yourself to an evening of faint wisps of curled hair framing your face. Wisps of hair are too spontaneous. You must be crisp, but it is not about what you want — not in these petty, mundane expressions of living.  

While you have been doing battle a figure has entered the room. It’s one of the Senator’s new Jedi protectors, if the robes are any indication. Without fanfare he approaches you and plucks the pin from your fingers, like he is intimately acquainted with such things and communes with them on a daily basis. Gentle fingers — though, the bruised knuckles tell you they are not immune to struggling against life’s grip — smooth the hair at the crown of your head before he slips the pin into its rightful place, nudging into the golden circlet now held secure. The sleeve of his robe caresses your cheek, obscuring your vision, and you feel with your , rather than see, all of this occur.

“All of this” happens without sound, without breathing almost, as though the two of you have entered a vacuum that warps both space and time and sound.

The man takes a step back and paints himself with an apologetic smile, clasping his hands together in the privacy of his robe and offering you a half-bow.

“I apologize for the liberty, your ladyship.” The Jedi’s voice is precise. “I do hope I wasn’t too forward.” He announces every syllable, acknowledges every idiosyncratic whimsy, each grammatical proclamation.

You meet his gaze in the mirror, and despite the shadows casting about, you can detect the openness, the earnestness of his gaze. He holds no tension in his face, or anywhere else in his body, for that matter. It has been a long while since you have seen someone so at peace. Perhaps, hidden under the cloak, his fingers are grasping at themselves, trying to be rid of the vestiges of forbidden touches.

A half-smile graces your painted lips and you incline your head. The movement cuts but a short arc in the air’s currents, just as you have been taught. “It is no matter.” You toy with the idea of letting him continue to believe you are Padmé, the thought careening through your mind like a model airspeeder run amok. You let the thought crash. It is above you to engage in such petty games, you decide. Padmé would not do it, and it is your job to act as she does. Besides, the Jedi would know, wouldn’t he? Can’t they read minds with the Force? That’s what fisherman in your village used to say when you would let your feet dangle off the docks and graze the surface of the water and watch the boats come in with the day’s catch.

So you turn, then, the cape twisting behind you, and address him face-to-face. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Master Jedi.” You gesture to your twinkling gown. “I am not the Senator.” You catch the tail end of his frown as you avert your gaze, fixating on some unseen object just out of sight. “I am but one of her ladyship’s handmaidens.” You hear the clipped tone of your voice, the way every word is measured like cups of flour, like the yards of fabric for this dress, and you think you hate it, but you cannot tell.

“Oh, I am sorry.” The apology is sincere and bookmarked with amusement, and he rocks back on his heels. It seems he is laughing at his own mistake. “I must however, inquire after the whereabouts of her ladyship. The council has requested that my padawan and I escort her to this evening’s function.” The Jedi’s hands drop to his sides and the robes that shield them follow.

“I’m afraid the Senator has already departed,” you say, making for the exit. The Jedi matches your stride. “She left with another Jedi some twenty standard minutes ago. I presume it was your padawan, Master Jedi?”

“Blast!” he murmurs, but you hear his swearing and duck your head to hide your grin. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, throwing a glance your way. “I’m afraid my padawan has a mind of his own.”

“I think the Senator and your padawan will get along famously, then,” you remark wryly. You have reached the landing pad and are about to bid him a good evening when he climbs into the shuttle and extends a hand to guide you.

“May I be of assistance?”

Skin meets skin for the second time that evening. At this rate you will be more acquainted with his body than your own, and as you sense his muscles grow taut when you shift your weight to board, an unfamiliar sensation embeds itself among the metallic threads. It feels like when you have to receive the Chancellor when Padmé is away on business, or when you act as decoy traveling to and from Theed, but more subtle, more inviting.

“Thank you, Master Jedi.” Skin breathes on skin for one, two heartbeats and then the contact withers and he drops your hand.

A silence nestles over the two of you as the pilot races you over to the function. It persists as he helps you exit the shuttle and delicately rearranges your cape, ensuring the shimmersilk is matches the beams of fractured stars.

Obi-wan does not know why he does this; he does not understand why he feels the nudging of the Force to offer his arm like he is a chivalrous courtier, but he obeys. It is his duty to obey the will of the Force, so he does.

part one (b)

The function teems with lifeforms, and each one spars for attention. They are wrapped in chiffon and decked in damask robes and fine crystals compete for light so they can shine that much brighter. It’s some gala ostensibly designed to raise credits for a struggling cause, and it is like all the rest. A pathetic excuse for most Senators to say they are dedicated to more than greed.

To you, it reeks of Coruscanti power; to him, it stinks of politics.

The Jedi Master spots the Senator and her Jedi protector before you do, and he steers you in their directly, swiftly sidestepping curious glances and intoxicated beings. You manage to snag a glass of something from a passing tray.

He bows again, deeply. His hair seems to blend in with the crowd — it is copper and gold and refined.

“My lady,” he intones, and his voice sparkles like the gem-encrusted champagne flute in Padmé’s hand.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Master Kenobi.” She looks up at the gangly teenager by her side. Rich chocolate and licorice colored robes complement the Senator’s wine-colored gown. It’s a striking image, despite the youth’s awkwardness, here in the blurry illumination of the cavernous room.  

Padmé breaks into a full smile as she spots you lingering at Kenobi’s side. “I see you’ve met my handmaiden.”

“I suppose I have,” he says, examining you anew, “although I’m afraid introductions got swept away in the excitement.”

You think he sounds as unaffected by “the excitement" as one could possibly be, and the duplicity gnaws on your gentility.

You sip while Padmé sweeps together strands of lore about your service, about your loyalty, about your selflessness. The beverage is sweet and sparkling, rather like your gown, and like your dress, it feels sticky and cloying and altogether fake for something that tries so hard to be real. But you smile and nod and once more his skin melts into yours as he shakes your hand.

“The honor,” he says in that voice colored with melody, “is all mine.” You look into his cerulean eyes and wish, dimly, in that part of your brain untouched by starlight, that he had said pleasure.

Padmé’s eyes flicker between you and him, but the moment has passed. She pulls you away, citing the need for diplomatic business and brushes aside her escorts with a firmness she seems to have possessed since birth.

The pair of you wander through the crowd. You are always one step behind, always letting her be the first person they see. She is wearing her favorite designer tonight, and you wonder, taking another sip as she holds court with Bail Organa, why she has commissioned such a work of art for tonight’s event.

Like yourself, the Senator has opted for airy materials matched with splendor. And yet, her garb lacks your ethereality: the deep burgundy smacks of something firmly rooted in rich soil even as you strain heavenward. Tulle and satin are artfully draped over her lithe form, and beaded crystals cover her from head to toe. An open back reveals creamy skin. More than one being in the hall has dragged their eyes over the Senator’s body, straining to glimpse more, more, more, in the dim light.

The Senator pays them no mind. When she concludes her business with Organa, she refreshes her glass, and yours, and tucks you in her side. You begin to walk. It is an aimless thing, but not purposeful — now is when you see who is here, and who is not, who is watching, who pretends to look away, and who slips out unnoticed.

“How did you meet Master Kenobi?” you ask.

“Oh, it was years ago.” Padmé drinks. “I was still Queen at the time.”

“And?” Back in those days, she had retained at least a dozen of Naboo’s finest young women. Now, it’s just you and few others.

“And that was when we met,” she announces. “He’s very famous, you know. So is his padawan, Anakin Skywalker. They’ve protected at least half the galaxy.”

Confusion contorts your features, carving rivers in your forehead. “I’ve never heard of them.”

Padmé laughs, but the expression is faint, almost undetectable. Senators do not typically jest with their bodyguards. “That’s because you think anyone who reports on the Jedi is a gossip-mongering snob and you refuse to read anything about them.” She squeezes your arm and drops her voice to a whisper. “Don’t know know they’re the ones who write all the good stuff?”

“All…the good stuff,” you echo, voice flat and uncomprehending.

Padmé simply rolls her eyes and resume her stride. “They’re in charge of my security now, with Captain Typho. I expect that you’ll be working closing with Master Kenobi. Please help him fulfill his mandate from the Council in anyway you can.”

The mere suggestion of working with that man twists your insides. It’s the same feeling from earlier, swirling and basing into unease. Work with a Jedi? A famous one? The ache anxiety you are used to. It is familiar and it is your unwelcome companion but you have made peace with each other. This — this is something new. This is a grinding jaw and a drawbridge heart and hot and cold dueling for dominance in your stomach and something so strangely akin to anger. You drink more champagne to mask the disconcerting sensation.

part one (c)

The Senator is being pulled away, now, to a group of prominent Senators to discuss the new child labor protection regulations. She does her job and you do yours, melting into the shadows, embracing them, keeping eyes on all those who gather near to your mistress.

Master Kenobi’s sudden appearance at your side does not surprise you, though perhaps it should.

“Are you quite sure you’re able to keep watch on her ladyship from this distance?” His words are no longer melodic. They come to your ears dry and flinty, the way rocks feel without the rain to abate their constancy.

“Quite.” You fail to elaborate because there is simply nothing more to say.

“Your disguise is quite effective. You must pass along my compliments to Captain Typho and the rest of the security team.” He tries again, but you refuse to be endeared. He is stubborn, just like you — he resists being broken down by your cool acidity.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi.” You finally meet his gaze. “I was worried it would be too intricate, but the Senator assured me I had selected the perfect piece. It’s just enough like her for people to not look twice.”

“You engineered this?” Master Kenobi’s body is static, but his face swells with vivacity. A minuscule gesture to the left, an arching eyebrow, a corner of his mouth quirks upwards, ascending to meet his eyes.

“It’s my job,” you return, but the pH of your tone has neutralized somewhat. You are uncomfortable, so you try to tease him. “Maybe one day I can show you how to use all the weapons I have under this gown, and you will believe I can do my job.”

You regret the tawdry joke immediately when he shifts and looks away. “I’m sorry I’ve offended you, my lady.” Master Kenobi analyzes you, then the Senator, and sighs heavily. “I see you have everything well in hand. I shall bid you good evening, then, my lady.” He bows and exits in a boiling mass of robes, his padawan not far behind. Anakin Skywalker lingers on the threshold, gazing into the crowd, eyes frantic, but his Master beckons and he follows obediently.

part one (d)

It is not until early morning, during that brief moment between night and dawn, that you are able to think clearly about the strange feeling gurgling in your chest.

You think of Master Kenobi and his sentimental hair and the caramel of his accent. You wonder about his hands grazing yours, how your fingers curled so naturally around his, the ghost of fingertips in your hair. You consider his attempts at gallantry, at his fealty to his duty, to Padmé embrace of his presence and her lavish praise.

And you ask yourself what would it have been like, if he were just a boy, and you were just a girl, and maybe if he had danced with you he could have respected you more, and maybe if you had been less defensive he would have been more contrite, and you laugh at yourself.

Silly girl, you think as sleep nibbles at your vision. Those are not our kind of dreams.

tbc.

#obi-wan x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi wan x you #obi wan imagine #obi-wan imagine #star wars fic #handmaidens #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #fic: like real people do #i am v tired now #honor kink #cris writes

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-10-31

THE SPOOKTOBER SPOOKD8 IS HERE!  Time to blog it and hope to the lord of bones that it heavily features the 12-foot Home Depot Skeleton!  Continuing from last time.

Will John remember that he should be off protecting the other kids from running off?  Or will he search for Vrissy finally, now that he’s spent a literal DAY staring at his house burning down?

> (==>)

This is the last Blood tie with your childhood and the past you were clinging to like a man-child, finally cut.  Your psyche is no longer allowed to be....

....Housetrapped.

Now get your Breathy ass over to your more adult responsibilities.  Or do something as irresponsible as usual, but more forward focused and thus singularly impressive.

> (==>)

I LITERALLY GASPED

I knew I was a fatally addicted Homestuck fanboy despite the trauma but I didn’t know I was THAT much of a just-over-thirty-year-old fanboy, I literally GASPED out loud.  To finally have the joy and confidence for the future that comes with JOHN and KARKAT together IN PERSON and interacting with a common goal.

What a dramatic, perfect shot.  This IS Karkat right?  That’s what the visuals and my heart and soul said

> (==>)

THEY’RE CLOSE FRIENDS

CLOSE ENOUGH FOR THAT

KARKAT HAS COME SO FAR

Karkat and John conversations are some of the strongest in Homestuck, I ship them as FRIENDS so hard

It brings to mind something I mentioned in the Breath, Blood, and the Flow of Reality explanation/theorypost, which was holy shit SEVEN YEARS AGO wow

I didn’t always understand the appeal of John as a character, ranking him in the middle of my liked characters list. But after a while, I suddenly noticed how enjoyable he was for the things his conversations did to others, making his pesterlogs some of the most enjoyable to read. I wrote the following two years ago, in a character rankings thread, back when we knew jack shit about the import of classes and roles:

“I didn’t really see why I should think John was such an amazing character until I realized his consistent effect on the other party. He’s goofy and doesn’t really understand anything, but he understands just enough about his friends and others to make cutting, hilarious, almost unintentional insights that can change people for the better, even if he’s off the mark. It’s not what he says himself, but what he brings about in others that makes him so great to read. I mean, if you wall him off from everyone else… he kind of fails.

That’s why I take issue with the complaint of protagonist syndrome, here. John is very little by himself, but enhances all the characters around him immensely. Imagine if John were doomed to stay the least powerful and/or game-advancing of the kids and trolls combined; notice how little that would do to the story, or his beneficial role in it.”

John cut himself off from EVERYONE for YEARS in the Candy timeline.  He tried to be close to people and just ended up distancing himself from it.  He tried to keep himself tied down by his old home and memories of the version of Dad he lost, and all sorts of childish stuff.  But that tie is cut, and the bonds he’s forged need to be grasped to bring him out to exercise his maturity, because Breath is futile without real BLOOD.

> (==>)

Awesome shot.

KARKAT: ROUGH DAY, HUH.

(that was supposed to skip to 2:26 when you click but I couldnt embed it that way -- I haven’t metal geared i just seen clips and super best friends & know some memes)

So many scars.  I used to even ship Jane and Karkat a little so they could just be aghast together at everyone’s shenanigans and level criticism at them together, but to think Jane’s fought and hurt Karkat THIS much...

(And yeah, his blood color is shown through his eyes now at this age, that’s correct.)

> (==>)

Oh my fucking god, going from that to Sprite mode that abruptly.  XD

This is great.

JOHN: karkat? JOHN: what are you doing here? KARKAT: IT'S NICE TO SEE YOU TOO.

Hah, SO close that Karkat’s immediately critical of NOT being greeted warmly.  :)

JOHN: this isn't a battlefield, it's just... KARKAT: THE OBLITERATED, SMOLDERING HUSK OF YOUR FORMER HOME. JOHN: well, yeah. KARKAT: WHICH WAS DESTROYED AS COLLATERAL IN AN ONGOING MILITARY CONFLICT. JOHN: oh all right, fine. JOHN: it just feels weird to call it that. JOHN: i guess i'm used to thinking of home as somewhere far away from all that war stuff.

Yeah John, the burning down from a bomb that was meant for you and ALL of your friends’ children is supposed to shatter you out of that illusion.

I’d continue criticizing, but Karkat’s about to do it for me:

KARKAT: JESUS *CHRIST* JOHN. KARKAT: I CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO LIST ALL THE WAYS IN WHICH THAT CONSTITUTES A SHORT-SIGHTED AND PUKE-WORTHILY IGNORANT THING TO SAY TO ME, PERSONALLY. KARKAT: AND FRANKLY I DON'T HAVE TIME TO BOTHER, THANKS TO THE COUNTLESS FIRES I HAVE BEEN PUTTING OUT ALL DAY, THE ONE PRESENTLY CONSUMING YOUR HIVE NOTWITHSTANDING. KARKAT: YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD HAVE MADE THINGS GO A BIT MORE SMOOTHLY? JUST A FRACTION? KARKAT: IF YOU HADN'T JUST DECIDED TO WANDER OFF THE INSTANT SHIT STARTED HAPPENING. JOHN: jeez, i'm sorry karkat. JOHN: i had no idea how much time had passed. JOHN: i must have gotten a bit distracted by my house being blown up.

A BIT DISTRACTED.  You empty-headed irresponsible guardian.

KARKAT: NOT WANTING TO POINT OUT THE OBVIOUS, BUT I FEEL LIKE THIS WAS A PROBLEM THAT YOU OF ALL PEOPLE WERE UNIQUELY AND MAGICALLY EQUIPPED TO DEAL WITH. JOHN: huh? KARKAT: YOU KNOW. KARKAT: WITH YOUR SHOOSH THING. JOHN: my shoosh thing. KARKAT: YOUR SHOOSH THING. KARKAT: THE GUSTY NONSENSE? THE GIFT OF GAS?? KARKAT: YOUR SBURB ALLOCATED BLOW JOB??? JOHN: uh. KARKAT: THE SUPERNATURAL COMMUNION YOU HAVE WITH ALL THINGS WINDY, YOU ASS!! JOHN: oh right, that. JOHN: that would have let me put the fire out, maybe. JOHN: i don't think there's anything in my skillset that would have unexploded my house though. KARKAT: THAT'S FAIR.

Mhmm.  Many of the characters in Candy AND Meat are currently in a situation where due to either years of unpractice in a worshipful society that discourages it by fueling their insecurities or inability to due to confinement in a years-long space trip has caused them to AVOID using their powers for the main beginning stretch of our new story.  People have complained about them outright “forgetting” to use their powers, and they’re right, to an extent, but it’s story-justified.  They’re almost all physically or psychologically prevented from doing so!  But those walls are coming down, starting now.  They’re going to come back into their own.  And we’re bound to see a LOT MORE of these literal Gods using their abilities to shape the fabric of reality as the story progresses.

JOHN: i suppose i'll add one more notch to the daily tally of crazy stuff that happened which i just have to accept as my life now.

It was all already happening, you just refused TO accept it until now.

JOHN: so... JOHN: what else happened while i was caught up watching the symbolic representation of my former life get consumed in a giant fire ball? KARKAT: OH BOY. WHERE TO START. KARKAT: SO FIRST OFF, IN HINDSIGHT, TODAY WAS PRETTY OBVIOUSLY JUST ONE HUGE BAITED TRAP. KARKAT: I SAY "IN HINDSIGHT", BUT FORTUNATELY IT WAS ALSO EXTREMELY APPARENT EVEN IN FORESIGHT TO THOSE OF US WHO SPENT A FEW SECONDS THINKING ABOUT IT. JOHN: ...right. KARKAT: OH COME ON EGBERT, SERIOUSLY? KARKAT: KIDNAPPING A PERSON OF IMPORTANCE, ONLY TO LET US KNOW PRECISELY WHERE AND ON WHAT OCCASION THEY WOULD BE MOST ACCESSIBLE FOR A RESCUE ATTEMPT? KARKAT: HAVING THAT OCCASION BE NONE OTHER THAN THE CORPSE PARTY OF A HIGHLY NOTEWORTHY POLITICAL FIGURE, WHOSE CASKET MIGHT AS WELL HAVE HAD A GIANT "KICK ME" SIGN DAUBED ON IT? KARKAT: THERE WAS BASICALLY NO WAY IT WASN'T A FRONT FOR SOMETHING HUGE. AND IT WAS! KARKAT: WE HAPPEN TO BE SITTING IN FRONT OF ONE FACET OF THAT HUGENESS AT THIS VERY MOMENT.

Wait.  Oh, God.

Someone brought up the possibility that Gamzee might still be revivable by Jane, and I speculated that she’s deliberately CHOOSING not to because she actually doesn’t like him that much or has some semblance of fucking sense left in her.

But what if she PLANNED to have a public funeral for him, and then revive him SOON AFTER to turn him into a Christ-like resurrecting figure?  D:

JOHN: well, when you put it like that... JOHN: i guess we all got pranked pretty hard, huh. KARKAT: THIS IS NO TIME FOR YOUR SHITTY NERD PRANKS JOHN. KARKAT: FRANKLY I'M INSULTED THAT YOU THINK SUCH A WORD IS EVEN REMOTELY APPOSITE TO THE PRESENT SITUATION. KARKAT: OTHER THAN TO DESCRIBE THE WAY I AM PERSONALLY BEING "PRANKED" BY REALITY IN HAVING TO EXPLAIN ALL THIS TO YOU.

Pretty much.  Get serious, John, actual people are dying by the--

--oh right, he was like this through the apocalypse and death of everyone on Earth.

I guess this is in character.  Paradox Space made sure to choose someone empty-headed and disconnected from reality enough to withstand this shit easily.  He really is a Breath player.

KARKAT: IT TURNS OUT THAT WE DIDN'T NEED TO PUT SO MUCH EFFORT INTO THE RESCUING YIFFY PART OF THE OPERATION. KARKAT: SHE BASICALLY RESCUED HERSELF WHEN ALL WAS SAID AND DONE. KARKAT: AND TOOK CARE OF KICKING GAMZEE'S CORPSEBOX OVER WHILE SHE WAS AT IT, IN A STUNNING DISPLAY OF EFFICIENCY WHICH THE REST OF US CAN ONLY ASPIRE TO.

Excellent, yeah.

JOHN: it sounds like she'd be a pretty welcome addition to your ranks then. KARKAT: SHE'S A CHILD, YOU MORON.

Yeah, you’re fucking grown up now, John.  Stop thinking of the kids as the ones who have to rise up when the adults aren’t all doomed or dead.

KARKAT: THE VRISKAS, PLURAL. JOHN: shit. KARKAT: THEY'VE BOTH BEEN CAPTURED. JOHN: shiiiiiiiit. KARKAT: YEAH. KARKAT: GREAT WORK KEEPING AN EYE ON THEM, BY THE WAY! KARKAT: YOU LITERALLY HAD ONLY ONE JOB, AND YOU MESSED IT UP IN THE EQUALLY SINGULAR WAY IT WAS POSSIBLE TO DO. JOHN: urgh, i know, i know. ):

At least he messed that part up while he was TRYING to watch them, and not when he wandered off and watched his house burn for a whole day instead of protecting the remaining kids.

KARKAT: JANE'S PLAN FOR THIS CONFLICT HAS THUS FAR CONSISTED ALMOST ENTIRELY OF KIDNAPPING VARIOUS HIGH PROFILE CHILDREN. KARKAT: IT'S BIZARRE. KARKAT: AS THOUGH WE ARE FIGHTING A WAR OF ATTRITION, WHERE THE MAIN RESOURCE BEING UTILIZED IS THE OFFSPRING OF THE MOST POWERFUL PEOPLE ON THE PLANET. KARKAT: IF IT WASN'T ONE OF THE CORE TENETS OF HER FASCISTIC PHILOSOPHY, I'D BE TEMPTED TO SAY THAT CURBING REPRODUCTION MIGHT HAVE BEEN A GOOD IDEA, IF ONLY TO PREVENT THIS KIND OF FUCKSHIT NONSENSE FROM HAPPENING.

Leave it to Karkat to point out the blatant absurdity of Homestuck’s nonsense in any given situation.

JOHN: wait. JOHN: wait a minute. JOHN: you said that both vriskas have been captured, right? KARKAT: EXCUSE ME WHILE I WEEP FOR JOY AT THE REVELATION THAT YOU HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION FOR ONCE. JOHN: okay, well putting that emotional outburst aside for a moment. JOHN: how is that even possible? JOHN: doesn't vriska, the original vriska, still have her magic alien mind control powers? JOHN: it seems like it should be basically impossible for anyone to kidnap her. KARKAT: YOU'VE STUMBLED ASS BACKWARDS ACROSS THE MOST IMPORTANT POINT OF THIS UNFORTUNATE DEVELOPMENT.

...Is Karkat going to put two and two together and realize that Vriska must have been intentionally captured of her own free will for some sort of ploy?

KARKAT: YOU ARE CORRECT, IN THAT WITH HER CASTE-TYPICAL, *COMPLETELY SCIENTIFIC AND NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT MAGICAL* PSYCHOMANIPULATIVE ABILITIES, STAYING OUT OF CROCKER'S REACH SHOULD HAVE BEEN COMPLETELY TRIVIAL FOR SERKET PRIME. KARKAT: EVEN ACCOUNTING FOR THE FACT THAT SAID ABILITIES ARE NOT NEARLY AS POTENT ON HUMANS AS THEY ARE ON FELLOW TROLLS, THEY STILL OUGHT TO HAVE TIPPED ANY ALTERCATION SQUARELY IN HER FAVOR. KARKAT: BUT SOMEHOW, IT DIDN'T! KARKAT: INSTEAD, THINGS APPEAR TO HAVE GONE GLOBES UP IN CLASSIC VRISKITE FASHION, AND NOW ONE OF THE MOST UNEXPECTED AND UNWANTED BUT NEVERTHELESS USEFUL WEAPONS IN OUR ARSENAL IS DOING TIME IN CROCKERJAIL. KARKAT: THAT'S ABOUT ALL WE'VE BEEN ABLE TO GLEAN FROM TAPPING INTO THE BATTERBITCH AIRWAVES, WHICH IS A FANCY TERM FOR EAVESDROPPING ON THOSE OF HER AGENTS WHO TALK A LITTLE TOO LOUDLY IN SEMI-PUBLIC SPACES. JOHN: jeez. JOHN: i really screwed that up, didn't i.

Guh.  I guess Karkat is underestimating Vriska a bit or just assuming the worst out of a habit of assuming the worst of everything.  (Or, if he has his suspicions, he’s not telling John.)

KARKAT: HAVING SAID ALL OF THAT, AND WITH THE RECOGNITION THAT I AM CHOOSING TO NURSE YOUR BRUISED FEELINGS DURING A PLANET WIDE CONFLICT FOR THE FATE OF MY SPECIES, KARKAT: IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO TO EXPEDITE YOUR GETTING THE FUCK OVER IT? JOHN: i... hm.

Yeah, use your shoosh-paps from Karkat wisely, John.  You needed them.

JOHN: i don't really know? JOHN: this all feels wrong, karkat. JOHN: no offense, but when you're around, it's usually a lot... KARKAT: A LOT WHAT? JOHN: a lot funnier. KARKAT: FUNNIER. JOHN: how to put this. JOHN: normally listening to you go on and on about how much we've fucked everything up is just very funny! JOHN: but now it's just not the same. JOHN: maybe it's part of what's going on with this entire reality? i don't know. JOHN: once upon a time i would have put down your ability to pull a silly rant out of your butt as a fundamental law of physics or something. JOHN: remember back when we first knew each other? JOHN: it felt like all you ever said to me was how much you thought i was screwing up and being a useless asshole. JOHN: and once i realized that you were also just a dumb kid who didn't know what was going on, i started to kind of enjoy it. JOHN: but now it's like... the only one who's still a dumb kid is me, and everyone else has something big and important going on that i just don't understand.

Mhmm, Karkat has every reason to be mad.  And everything really, REALLY close to you that you care about is in danger from the very things he’s mad about.  Karkat is RIGHT for once with every angry seemingly-exaggerated-but-not word, and that’s throwing you.

JOHN: i thought that i finally got what was going on with this whole war and everything. i wanted to be useful! JOHN: i guess i got a little too wrapped up in the feeling of something finally happening again. JOHN: and then watching it all blow up in my face, kind of literally now that i think about it...

...you think maybe something that happens to be A WAR is actually a big farking deal that you should be serious about??

JOHN: it's hard not to feel even more dejected about the situation than i was before. JOHN: and now even the patented karkat vant rant has lost all its sparkle.

IT’S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FUN.

JOHN: maybe if you had like, painstakingly itemized a list of all the things wrong with my plan in a comically overdone fashion or something. KARKAT: I CONSIDERED IT, BUT HONESTLY THERE WAS SO MUCH WRONG THAT I CONCLUDED THAT THE BEST THING FOR EVERYONE WOULD BE TO NEVER SPEAK OF IT AGAIN. JOHN: oh. okay.

Heheh.

KARKAT: IF WE'RE BEING HONEST, YOU DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A PLAN, JOHN. KARKAT: CALLING IT A PLAN WOULD IMPLY THAT IT WAS A STRUCTURED SEQUENCE OF STEPS DESIGNED TO ACHIEVE A GOAL. KARKAT: WHAT YOU CAME UP WITH WAS A CONVOLUTED MESS WHICH STILL SOMEHOW INVOLVED DOING FUCKALL. KARKAT: AND I USE CONVOLUTED HERE IN THE SAME WAY THAT I WOULD TO DESCRIBE THE FRENZIED DRAWSTICK SCRIBBLES OF A SQUALLING HUMAN INFANT.

All Breath and no Blood?  All concept and influence and ephemeral accomplishments and no physical impact or results?

Karkat has been fighting this whole time with physical results in mind.  He NEEDS to tie that ephemeral shit down, and once added to his plan, once Breath sweeps the tide of actual sentiment of people, inspires them, you have an actual victory in reach instead of just more attrition.

KARKAT: I APPRECIATE THAT YOU SEEM TO HAVE DUG YOUR PAN OUT OF YOUR OWN CHUTE THE FEW MICROMETERS NECESSARY TO NOTICE THE PRECISE DEGREE TO WHICH THE WORLD IS BEING JUDICIOUSLY BATFUCKED RIGHT NOW.

Really need to dig yourself out more than that, John, yeah.

KARKAT: AS HARD AS IT IS TO BELIEVE, THAT'S A FEAT WHICH NO SMALL NUMBER OF PEOPLE ARE COMPLETELY INCAPABLE OF DOING!

(Which is why your plan of attack needs more Breath!)

KARKAT: BUT NOTICING THE PROBLEM AND MAKING MEANINGFUL PROGRESS TOWARDS SOLVING IT ARE TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THINGS. KARKAT: THE NEXT TIME YOU GET THE IMPULSE TO "LEND A HAND", YOU'D BE BETTER OFF CANNING IT FOR FIVE MINUTES AND LISTENING TO THOSE OF US WHO'VE BEEN TRYING TO SOLVE IT A LOT LONGER THAN YOU HAVE. KARKAT: THIS ISN'T AN EXERCISE BEING CONDUCTED IN ORDER FOR YOU TO PROVE YOUR PERSONAL DEGREE OF MORAL RECTITUDE. KARKAT: AND IF IT WAS, YOU WOULD HAVE ALREADY FAILED MISERABLY! SO DO YOURSELF AND EVERYONE ELSE A FAVOR AND STOP TREATING IT LIKE ONE. JOHN: well... all right. if you say so karkat.

Phew.  Let’s hope he takes Karkat’s gift of a worldbound, arms-in-the-dirt sense of responsibility (Blood) and runs with it.

KARKAT: I DO SAY SO, EMPHATICALLY AND AT GREAT VOLUME. KARKAT: AND NOW THAT MY OBLIGATION TO CATECHIZE YOU ON THE SUBJECT OF YOUR OWN LIFE IS FULFILLED, I HAVE A WAR TO GET BACK TO. JOHN: wait, hold on. KARKAT: OH MY GOD WHAT NOW.

--is it gonna be a hug?

> (==>)

JOHN.  Put it together.

JOHN: you can't be leaving already. JOHN: there's... so much we still need to talk about!

No, not that!!

...well, yes, I’m all for more of you two talking but.  This ain’t just about you two.

KARKAT: WHAT MORE COULD THERE POSSIBLY BE FOR US TO DISCUSS?? KARKAT: PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME YOU JUST HAD ANOTHER EMOTION THAT WE NEED TO DROP EVERYTHING IN ORDER TO DISSECT. JOHN: no, that's not what i'm talking about at all. JOHN: karkat, we still haven't spoken about *you*! KARKAT: ABOUT ME? JOHN: yes. KARKAT: ABOUT *ME*? JOHN: about you. KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK ABOUT ME. JOHN: well... JOHN: you know, how you feel! KARKAT: HOW I FEEL. JOHN: or just... JOHN: argh, i don't know!

This was more of an intervention than a feelings jam, John.  I’m not sure John’s in the condition right now to Breathily inspire Karkat somehow and help his war with an idea and drive he didn’t have before -- like he SHOULD eventually -- but I suppose we’re about to see.

JOHN: it's just been so long since we've seen each other. JOHN: all sorts of things have happened in that time, and it doesn't feel right to just not even mention any of it! KARKAT: LIKE WHAT?? JOHN: oh, i don't know karkat, literally anything! JOHN: i mean, look at you. JOHN: you are decked out in a tight body suit and have an eyepatch and everything. there is simply no way there isn't something to discuss there.

You talked with him plenty while NOT in person, though.

> (==>)

Such MOOD.  What a good image.

JOHN: or like, forget the eyepatch, we don't have to talk about the eyepatch. JOHN: i feel as though my point still stands? JOHN: there is basically a bottomless well full of stuff to go through. JOHN: i mean we kind of glossed over it when you brought her up earlier, but what about yiffy? JOHN: this might not come across so easily due to human troll cultural boundaries, but her existing is kind of a big deal?? JOHN: i feel like somehow i missed the part where we all sit around and talk about how strange it is that two of our friends went off and had a secret child without any of us knowing! JOHN: is it too much to ask that we have that part now, karkat?

That’s fair.  And they DO need to talk about it!  But this is sort of like in the Game -- there’s important shit to do, and not a whole lot of time to do it.  You’re going to do a lot of talking, but you won’t be able to do all you want with certain people separated from you by the circumstances of how this war is dividing your responsibilities.

JOHN: i mean, maybe it just doesn't mean that much to you. KARKAT: JOHN. JOHN: which is a little strange, given that it ties in to the whole conflict that you had with jade and dave. JOHN: oh god we have to talk about dave. KARKAT: JOHN. KARKAT: FUCKING HELL! KARKAT: I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT DAVE. JOHN: no, this is what i mean, karkat. JOHN: we need to talk about dave! KARKAT: HAHA! LIKE SHIT WE DO!! KARKAT: I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE HOW THIS IS EVEN A RELEVANT TOPIC OF CONVERSATION. JOHN: oh come on. JOHN: there's no way you aren't feeling kind of messed up about him, right?

THIS is fair.  Karkat does need to talk about this with somebody.  Whether John is the right somebody... I guess he is where Dave is concerned.  And he has to talk to Jade eventually, too.

JOHN: i know i am. JOHN: whenever i think about how things ended between you two... JOHN: especially now that he's... JOHN: ugh, i'm sorry. i'm SO sorry karkat. sorry doesn't even begin to cover it. JOHN: this whole thing feels so impossibly sad. JOHN: all i'm trying to say is... JOHN: it's not healthy to bottle these feelings up and not acknowledge them. JOHN: even if you aren't feeling anything right now, and i don't for a moment believe that's true, *i* need to talk about dave! JOHN: so can we please just talk about dave for a moment. KARKAT: NNNNGNGNGGGGGGGUUUUUUGUUGHHHHHHHH FINE.

It’s difficult to live in a Daveless world.

KARKAT: IF IT WILL GET YOU TO SHUT UP ABOUT THIS TOPIC FOR EVEN A BRIEF MOMENT, THEN FINE. KARKAT: REGARDLESS OF HOW POINTLESS AN EXERCISE I CONSIDER IT TO BE, I WILL DISCUSS WITH YOU MY "FEELINGS" ABOUT DAVE. JOHN: okay. JOHN: thank you. KARKAT: ARE YOU PREPARED TO BE INUNDATED WITH NONE OTHER THAN AN UNINTERRUPTED SPATE OF HARD, UNEMBELLISHED DATA VIS A VIS MY SWEEPS-SUPPRESSED, BISCUITFELT EMOTIONS ON THE DAVE SITUATION?? KARKAT: WELL HERE GOES.

--it’s not gonna be short, or cut away, is it?  --actually it could just switch to a very sad sunset-like vista of the two sitting there, and one poignant line from him followed by a long, hanging pause.

> (==>)

KARKAT: *DEEP BREATH*

A giant expletive isn’t it.

The best sendoff you could give him.

> (==>)

Holy shit.  It really IS a rant!

KARKAT: YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW I REALLY FEEL ABOUT DAVE? KARKAT: HOW I FEEL IS THAT I WISH THAT EVERYONE WOULD STOP FUCKING BOTHERING ME ABOUT HIM!!! KARKAT: ALRIGHT, SO HE AND JADE GOT HUMAN MARRIED!! BIG DEAL!!! KARKAT: DO PEOPLE FORGET THAT I WAS THERE?? I FEEL LIKE EVERYONE IS FORGETTING THAT I WAS LITERALLY INVITED TO THE OCCASION. KARKAT: I'VE EVEN COME TO EXPECT THIS KIND OF AMNESIAC BEHAVIOR FROM EVERYONE ELSE, SINCE I ADMIT THAT I DIDN'T EXACTLY STICK AROUND OR ACTUALLY SHOW MY FACE FOR MOST OF THE ORDEAL, BUT YOU EGBERT SHOULD HAVE NO FUCKING EXCUSE! JOHN: wait, karkat, that's not what i KARKAT: SO YEAH! THAT WHOLE THING HAPPENED, AND I CAME TO TERMS WITH WHATEVER THERE WAS TO COME TO TERMS WITH, WHICH WAS FUCKING *NOTHING*, AND THEN I GOT ON WITH THE ACTUAL IMPORTANT BUSINESS OF TRYING TO PREVENT THE WORLD FROM CRUMBLING! KARKAT: WHICH, NOW THAT WE'RE ON THE SUBJECT, IS *STILL FUCKING HAPPENING*! KARKAT: I AM UTTERLY APPALLED THAT THIS IS AN INFO MORSEL I KEEP HAVING TO SPOONFEED DOWN YOUR WINDCHUTE EVERY FIVE SECONDS, JOHN, I REALLY AM. KARKAT: I MEAN HOLY SHIT, NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR THIS! KARKAT: AND ONE THING I CAN SAY WITH ABSOLUTE IRONCLAD CERTAINTY IS THAT IF DAVE WERE HERE, HE WOULD SAY THE SAME THING!!

Okay he dealt with it by keeping his hands in the dirt working on hard-fighting responsibilities, yeah, as a Blood player might.  But the way he’s ranting about it seems a little-

KARKAT: SPEAKING OF WHICH, WHERE *IS* DAVE?? JOHN: um. KARKAT: I FEEL LIKE IF ANYONE COULD HAVE PREVENTED TODAY FROM DEVOLVING INTO A HEADLESS CLUSTERFUCK, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN... OKAY, MAYBE NOT HIM, BUT AT LEAST HE MIGHT HAVE HELPED DRAG YOU OUT OF YOUR DEPRESSIVE FUGUE A LITTLE SOONER! JOHN: (oh shit.)

Oh SHIT

> (==>)

Oh no... oh no, they’re BOTH about to let it out together.

They’re gonna have to cry it out.  Finally, onscreen.  THIS is why they weren’t showing us, why they were saving it.  It felt so awkward at the time but it’s because it has to culminate in these two, some of the closest to Dave since CHILDHOOD, get to show us the effect on everyone in a microcosm.

KARKAT: NOT ONLY THAT, BUT MAYBE WITH BOTH OF US HERE WE COULD HAVE DISPENSED WITH THIS ENTIRE SORRY TOPIC ONCE AND FOR ALL, IF ONLY FOR YOUR BENEFIT! KARKAT: OH HI DAVE, JOHN SEEMS TO BE UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT THE UNSPOKEN HISTORY BETWEEN US IS OF SUFFICIENT IMPORT THAT WE NEED TO HASH IT OUT THIS VERY SECOND IN FRONT OF THE BLASTED REMAINS OF HIS HOME! KARKAT: yo karkat that does seem to be a strange thing for my best friend john to be concerned about given that he has spent the past five years wallowing in the depths of deepest divorce fever KARKAT: and especially since jade and i have meanwhile been working as part of your resistance with no complaints, but sure, we can brofist each other and arrange our limbs in an unambiguously platonic way KARKAT: a way which is also flawlessly calculated to communicate to everyone present that here are two guys who are totally and unequivocally over each other JOHN: (oh god. you don't...)

Talk about John’s comment about Karkat’s rants not being hilarious in a situation.  THIS situation really tugs it out of them.  :(

KARKAT: THAT SOUNDS LIKE A GREAT IDEA DAVE, AND WITH THAT MAYBE THAT WAY WE CAN WASH OUR TOUCH STUMPS OF THIS WHOLE ORDEAL AND NEVER HAVE TO SPEAK OF IT AGAIN! KARKAT: WOULD YOU LIKE THAT, JOHN? KARKAT: WOULD THAT SATISFY YOUR CRAVING FOR CATHARSIS ON THE SUBJECT OF DAVE?? KARKAT: WELL WHY DON'T WE TRY IT THEN. KARKAT: IN FACT, WHY DON'T YOU CALL DAVE AND GET HIM OVER HERE RIGHT NOW! JOHN: (oh my god...)

> (==>)

These visuals are ON POINT.  This entire sequence since Karkat showed up is masterfully done.

KARKAT: MAYBE WE SHOULD GET JADE TO COME AS WELL! JOHN: ): KARKAT: FUCK, WHY NOT INVITE FUCKING EVERYONE!!! KARKAT: WHY NOT PRESS "PAUSE" ON THE RACE WAR FOR A MOMENT AND HAVE ONE HUGE FEELINGS JAM LAWNMEAL WHERE WE ALL PUBLICLY EXPATIATE OUR VARIOUS CONVOLUTED EMOTIONS. KARKAT: FORGET PEACE TALKS, GET FUCKING *CROCKER* TO COME! KARKAT: MAYBE THE SIGHT OF A DAVEKAT RECONCILIATION IS THE SECRET KEY TO UNLOCKING THE PART OF HER BRAIN THAT STOPS HER FROM BEING A GENOCIDAL RACIST BITCH!!! KARKAT: HOW COULD WE HAVE POSSIBLY BEEN SO BLIND!!!!!! KARKAT: IF GAMZEE WASN'T DEAD, YOU COULD HAVE INVITED HIM AS WELL! KARKAT: HAHAHA, THAT'S OKAY, WE STILL HAVE A VERITABLE MENAGERIE OF PEOPLE WE KNOW WHO AREN'T DEAD. JOHN: ))))): KARKAT: ALL OF WHOM I AM SURE WILL BE SIMPLY DELIGHTED TO ATTEND WHAT WILL UNDOUBTEDLY BE THE SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT EVENT IN EARTH C'S BULLSHIT HISTORY. KARKAT: IF THIS IS WHAT IT TAKES, EGBERT, THEN I AM PREPARED TO DO IT! KARKAT: DON'T THINK THAT I WON'T!! KARKAT: IF JUST FOR AN *INSTANT* IT WILL GET EVERYONE OFF MY CASE ABOUT THIS, I WILL STAND UP WITH DAVE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE ***FUCKING WORLD*** AND SOLEMNLY VOW THAT I DO NOT GIVE A SHIT!!!! JOHN: KARKAT!!!!

That last bit with John.  I can HEAR the rawness in his voice as he shouts that last bit... he’s about to burst into tears.  And Karkat is going to have to with him.  And they’ll cry it out together, as they should.

> (==>)

JOHN: ugh, fuck, this is just too much! JOHN: i thought you KNEW! KARKAT: KNEW WHAT??? JOHN: dave's GONE, karkat! JOHN: he's... JOHN: he's dead.

Let’s see it happen.

> (==>)

Just body language, the blow of the words...

JOHN: i didn't mean for you to find out like this at all, i thought... JOHN: i mean, i only heard about it yesterday, but i was convinced someone would have told you already! JOHN: apparently one minute he was there, and the next... JOHN: none of us even know how it happened, and it doesn't make any sense that he's dead, but he is. JOHN: he is dead and he's not coming back. KARKAT: JOHN: talk to me karkat, please. JOHN: please talk to me karkat. KARKAT: KARKAT: HE...

Jade and Rose were on a different part of this battlefield, they didn’t have the ability, time, and/or heart to break the news--

> (==>)

KARKAT: HE DIDN'T EVEN SAY GOODBYE?

aaaaAAAA

What a fucking expression, wow.

And what a regret RoboDave has to have for abandoning everyone without so much as a farewell letter.  To think that ditching them like that was IN his Ultimate Soul is going to eat away at him.  He may be linked to all of his self of selves, but he’s still an individual with individual regrets.

This was a damned good update.  See y’all next time.

(It may be the new meds I’m on, but between this and the thorough love I see put into the unofficial archive, I’m suddenly reminded that despite all the drama, I fucking LOVE Homestuck.  Even its current incarnation.)

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #spoiler #spoilers #John Egbert #Karkat #Dave Strider #Jane Crocker

[thisisthepartwhereyou]

BEASTARS MINI-STORY #5: “Everybody Play the Game pt. 1” by JCL

---

We see Jack sitting alone by his writing desk in dorm room 701. He's got several books, documents and a notebook positioned ahead of him, suggesting that he is about to do some homework, but he is currently busy talking on his cellphone. We hear a voice coming from the other end.

???: "So you are sure that you can all come that day?"

Jack has his nose down a monthly planner-book, where we see that he has encircled a date with red ink: May 23rd. Within the circle he has also written "Game night at Yanni's with Legosi and the guys."

JACK: "Don't worry about it. I've double-checked with the others. There shouldn't be any problem."

The labrador retriever suddenly gets a puzzled look though as he adjust his reading glasses.

JACK: "But why is it so important that everyone is there? We've had game nights before with one or two missing. As long as it's four of us we can play most things." ---

We go over to the other side of the line and see that the one he is talking to is Legosi. He is standing out in the corridor of the first in the hidden condo, using the shared phone. He scratches his cheek.

LEGOSI: "Well, it's like this..." ---

We skip ahead for a bit. Jack is now sitting in the school cafeteria together with his roommates: Durham the coyote, Miguno the spotted hyena, Collot the old English sheepdog and Voss the fennec fox. They are eating their lunches, which today appears to be composed of rice, miso soup, tamagoyaki and a broccoli salad.  

JACK: "He's bringing Haru to game night. He wants us all to meet her."

The rest of the guys stare at him.

MIGUNO: "His girlfriend? The bunny?"

Durham looks a little skeptical. Next to him we see Collot stuffing his face with a big helping of the tamagoyaki.

DURHAM: "Why? Does he want to rub it in our noses that he has a girlfriend and we don't? I mean we already have Collot and his harem for that."

Hearing this, Collot turns to him and protests with his mouth full, with yellow crumbs flying out and staining Durham's sleeve as he does.

COLLOT: "I don't have a harem!"

Durham groans in annoyance, picks up a napkin and wipes his arm.

DURHAM: "Then what was all that chocolate you had in your locker last Valentines day about? Looking for a golden ticket or something?"

Jack sighs at their shenanigans, like a patient parent dealing with a group of dysfunctional siblings.

JACK: "I doubt that's the reason. He probably just figured it was time he introduced her to his friends."

Durham shrugs at this and takes a sip from his milk carton.

DURHAM: "Sounds like the adult thing to do."

Miguno sticks his fork into his salad, stabbing through a piece of broccoli before taking it up to his mouth.

MIGUNO: "Just imagine it, our little Legosi, all grown up."

Durham leans forward, resting his chin in his hand while adopting a pensive expression.

DURHAM: "Grown up Legosi."

Collot crosses his arms and looks up into the air.

COLLOT: "Grown up Legosi with a girlfriend..."

Voss (who unlike his friends is so small that he has to sit on the table while eating instead of on a seat next to it) is flicking his right ear.

VOSS: "... Who is a bunny."

JACK: "..."

It is quiet for a few seconds, with it seeming like the boys from room 701 is internally tasting the situation. It is then that Durham interrupts this quiet moment with a question that appears to be on everybody's mind.

DURHAM: "Am I the only one who wonders how the hell that works?"

Collot picks up his bowl of miso with his hand.

COLLOT: "No, I've actually been pondering about that too. I mean I flirt with the herbivore girls as much as I flirt with any of the carnivore girls, but that's mostly to be courteous."

He then proceeds to loudly slurp up its content (table manners is not his strong side). He then puts the bowl down again, licking the soup residue off his lips with his tongue.

COLLOT: "I don't think I could date one though... No matter how taboo-liciously hot they can be...!"

Miguno gives Collot a skeptical look and shakes his head at him (though whether it is because he agrees with this sentiment or just finds the word 'taboo-licious' disturbing is unclear).

MIGUNO: "I couldn't believe it the first time I heard it."

JACK: "Well they've been together for almost two years, so there has to be something..." (Though I honestly don't get it either)

DURHAM: "What I don't get is the attraction, on both sides."

Durham stretches his arms out in an expanding motion.

DURHAM: "I mean Legosi is HUGE, even by wolf standards."

He pulls his arms back, then holds his right hand raised about 20 centimeters over the table.  

DURHAM: "And bunnies in general are tiny! Don't you think it's a little bizarre for someone that big to be together with someone so minuscule?"

It is then that Durham remembers the presence of Voss, the undoubtedly smallest member among them, who is shooting him a glare from across the table.

DURHAM: "No offense."

The fennec gives him the finger.

VOSS: "None taken. And just so know, I don't think the size thing is that weird. I mean she could just be into big mammals. I can relate to that!"

Collot's face shrivels into a disdainful grimace.

COLLOT: "Yeah we all know about your literal giant fetish dude...!"

Durham scratches back of his head and closes his eyes.

DURHAM: "You know, I used to have a hard time picturing Legosi with a girl to begin with. I mean he's a great guy, but I always figured that he was a little too quiet and weird to ever get one. Then we have his obsession with bugs. I mean that's not an attractive hobby."

As he thinks back to previous moments with Legosi, we see a montage of the wolf being just... Well, HIMSELF. These include times when he is just staring off into space, eating an egg sandwich or letting a spider walk over his hand. As this montage ends, Durham turns to Jack.

DURHAM: "Hey Jack. You've met this girl before, right? What is she like?"

Jack blinks, then looks over his shoulder, as if he is thinking hard about it. He then appears to have reached a conclusion and gives Durham an answer:

JACK: "She's nice."

The group stares at Jack in silence. Durham waves his hand in an urging fashion; he wants more details.

DURHAM: "And?"

Jack shrugs.

JACK: "And cute I suppose... I dunno, I just met her once, so I can't really paint a bigger picture of her. All I got from her is that seemed perfectly pleasant."

Durham looks dissatisfied with this.

DURHAM: "But what about the important stuff? Like... Like..."

He struggles to come up with what he is trying to say. It is then that Collot leans over and fills in with the question closest to his heart:

COLLOT: "How big are her breasts?"

Durham snaps his fingers at this, like it was exactly what he was trying to relay just now.  

DURHAM: "Precisely!"

Jack's face twists into an incredulous expression.

JACK: "THAT is the important stuff?!"

COLLOT: "Well yeah, I mean Legosi is a big guy like me. It's a fact of life: big guys like big jugs. I mean if you make out, would you be satisfied with pinching and pulling a pair of steamed buns or do you want your hands full of anpan?"

Jack stares at Collot with disapproval and a deep blush on his cheeks.

JACK: "Where did you learn that? Sex harassment ed? This is Legosi's girlfriend we're talking about, how about you showing a bit of class?"

This makes the rest of the guys look a little self-conscious, recognizing that they talked in a rather insensitive way about someone they haven't even met yet.

DURHAM: "Yeah, you're right."

MIGUNO: "Important thing is that she makes Legosi happy."

Collot nods.

COLLOT: "M-hm."

Things get quiet for a few seconds again, with them just eating.

VOSS: "You know, I do think the size play's a keyrole, but I don't think it's a tiddie-thing."

Voss puts the thumb and indexfinger of his left hand together to form a circle.

VOSS: "I mean just picture it..."

He forms his other hand into a fist which he then proceeds to push through the WAY too smal circle of his other hand. This prompts Jack to scream out loud in protest, earning the group weird looks from all over the cafeteria.

JACK: "CLASS VOSS! CLASS!" ---

TEXT BOX: 1 week and 2 days later.

Skipping ahead of time, we see Jack, Collot, Voss (who is riding on Collot's shoulder), Durham and Miguno walking through town during sometime in the afternoon.

COLLOT: "So what are you guys up for tonight? I'd personally be into a game of Catch'em Scratch'em*."

VOSS: "Well, you all know what my favorite game is."

COLLOT: "Don't tell me you want to play Fivelimbs* again? I hate to say it, but you know how it goes every time."

Voss shoots him an annoyed look.

VOSS: "Don't trample on my dream you big galoot. Besides, I have a new, mind-blowing strategy!"

DURHAM: "Does it involve using your ears? Cause they you may have a fighting chance against the rest of us."

Voss flips Durham off again.

VOSS: "Eh, fuck you!"

Miguno, who seems to be pondering on something, speaks up.

MIGUNO: "I just had a thought."

DURHAM: "Please tell me you don't want to play Word Wriggle* again. I mean half the words you come up with isn't part of any earthly language!"

Miguno waves this away with his hand.

MIGUNO: "No, no... I was thinking, what if we're too scary when we're together?"

The others give Miguno a confounded stare.

COLLOT: "Us? Scary? Are you serious?"

VOSS: "Have you ever met us? We're like the cuddliest-wuddliest bastards you'll ever come across."

MIGUNO: "I am serious. I mean, when a predation incident occurs, people avoid us like the plague. But, don't you think that's partly because we're all together?"

In Miguno's background we see the entire group (including Legosi) at an earlier point at Cherryton, walking through a school corridor together. As they walk through the halls together, several herbivores get out of the way, looking uncomfortable and/or scared.

MIGUNO: "I mean, a single carnivore can to a scared herbivore be enough. But there's five of us, six with Legosi. One by one it's not that bad, but with all of us together... Could it be that we're extra intimidating that way?"

The group continues to stare at Miguno. Durham looks disturbed.

DURHAM: "What did you bring that up for?"

MIGUNO: "Well I was thinking... What if this girl is going to get scared of us?"

Collot shakes his head at this.

COLLOT: "No way. If Legosi doesn't scare her, how could we?"

MIGUNO: "Legosi is just ONE carnivore, but what if being a small room with SIX might be too much for her?"

The group seems to think about this. Durham crosses his arms and adopts a pouty expression.

DURHAM: "That is just crazy...!"

JACK: "Well... Maybe not that crazy."

Everyone turns to look at Jack, who looks a bit worried.

JACK: "It has been proven in studies that herbivores who feel surrounded by a larger than average group of carnivores can experience heightened levels of stress and feelings of isolation. With more sensitive animals, it has even lead to panic attacks."

The group seems to take this bleak information in. Voss sigh and look depressed.

VOSS: "Well I guess we can forget about Fivelimbs then."

Durham throws his arms out in annoyance.

DURHAM: "Well that's just great, now we have to worry about scaring this poor girl to death!"

Miguno scratches his head, looking about as worried as Jack about this whole thing.

MIGUNO: "If we do that, we could just jeopardize our friendship with Legosi...!"

COLLOT: "Easy now, lets not panic. We just have to make sure we don't do anything that could make her feel threathened or anything."

DURHAM: "Like what? File down our teeth and shrink to Voss size?"

MIGUNO: "Jack, you know a lot about scientific stuff about herbivore/carnivore interactions. How can we make her feel safe around us?"

Jack scratches his chin and seems to work the old brain box to remember some useful information on this subject.

JACK: "Well... This is just what I've read in books, but..."

He holds up a finger, like he is about to hold a lecture. We see a few illustrations appearing in Jack's background: One is a basic drawing of dog-like carnivore, standing next to a basic drawing of a small, rabbit-like herbivore.

JACK: "One thing with smaller herbivores is that they are usually very self-conscious about their size. The biggest reminder of this is whenever they have to look up in order to meet a large animal's eyes."

The rabbit look up at the dog with a nervous look, a red, dotted line being drawn between it's eyes and the dog's.

JACK: "Kneeling or crouching down to eye level when greeting them can therefor make them feel more at ease."

The dog crouches down, so that his eyes are on the same level as the rabbit's. Another, green dotted line is drawn between them.

VOSS: "Well that sounds simple enough."

A new illustration appears behind Jack: The dog-like carnivore and the rabbit-like herbivore are now sitting opposite one another at a table.

JACK: "Another thing is that herbivores can experience reactionary spastic movements in their legs whenever they see carnivores eat."

As the dog eats some spagetti, we see the rabbit's legs twitch with non-voluntary movements under the table.

JACK: "It's an old reflex. The sight of sharp teeth at work triggers an inherited, physical memory that is prompting the herbivore to run."

Collot scratches the back of his head at this.

COLLOT: "I guess we could cover our mouths while eating... Anything else?"

JACK: "Well then there is the question of space."

Yet another illustration appears behind Jack: We see the rabbit surrounded by several, carnivore-like shadows. Panicky sweats are radiating from it's head.

JACK: "Herbivore's can experience an exaggerated sense of enclosure if the room is small and feels crowded with carnivores."

Miguno looks relatively calm about that fact.

MIGUNO: "Well it's a good thing we decided to rent a table at Yanni's then. That's place is both public and spacious." ---

We now find ourselves in an alley near the town center. There is an establishment in the building in front of us with a large sign above it that spells 'Yanni's Games & Coffee' with a logo that features a cup of coffee with a pair of dice in it, as if they were sugar cubes. It has a large store window with a display featuring lined up board games, including Know-Edge-Ledge*, Cages & Keepers* and Hungry-Hungry Wolf*, some big novelty chess pieces and two Catch'em Scratch'em cardboard cutouts on opposing sides of the display. A black fold-up sign is standing outside on the sidewalk with a text on it written with colored chalk, listing specials (cucumber sandwich, cinnamon buns and Latte Macchiato) and recommended games of today (Whack-the-Weevil* and Whodunnit*).

TEXT BOX: Yanni's Games & Coffee: An establishment located near the town center. It's a cafe where you can rent a table for a few hours and play various parlor games. It's a gathering place for various clubs and a popular spot for both herbivores and carnivores to sit and relax while also playing games together.

The boys from 701 are standing outside of it, looking at it with mild awe.

MIGUNO: "Seems like they've boosted the place up since the last time we were here."

Voss, Collot and Durham stare into the window excitedly, while Jack inspects the sign.

JACK: "Must've gotten more popular with time... I guess more and more people need calmer means of relaxing these days."

LEGOSI: "Hey!"

The boys turn, and they see that Legosi, accompanied by Haru, has arrived. Jack smile as he sees them.

JACK: "Ah, Legosi! Haru!"

The wolf and the bunny walk up to them.

LEGOSI: "We didn't make you guys wait for too long?"

Jack waves this away with his hand.

JACK: "No, no, we just got here."

The rest of the guys walk up behind Jack, each of them giving Haru curious looks. Haru steps forward and gives them a curt little bow.

HARU: "Hi, I am Haru. Legosi's girlfriend. It's nice to meet you."

The boys stare at her with starstruck expressions.

COLLOT, VOSS, DURHAM & MIGUNO: (This girl is...)

Haru flashes a friendly smile that seems to generate sparkles in the air around her. The boys all wag their tales.

COLLOT, VOSS, DURHAM & MIGUNO: (...SO FRICKING CUTE!)

--- TO BE CONTINUED

#beastars #legosi #haru #jack #voss #collot #durham #miguno #701 #2020 #fanfic #fanfiction #script style #golden retriever #grey wolf #dwarf rabbit #spotted hyena #coyote #fennec fox #jcl #everybody play the game

[roseskiesandbutterflies]

Killer Queen - Chapter 9: Coming Soon

Summary: Arabella Ruth White is the fifth member of the Marauders. And life at Hogwarts certainly isn’t easy. Especially when you have alcohol, relationships, unhealthy music obsessions, a fake stage persona, weird ass friends with weird ass problems and actual school all thrown into the equation. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name. I will always update on Wattpad first.)

Warning(s): none that I can see

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26 @bijoukitty ask to be on my taglist!

Inspired by: A Night At The Opera, various Marauders headcanons I’ve seen on Pinterest, this quarantine business, The Boy Who Killed God by @sirius-black-killed-god on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3

Word count: 4.3k+ (holy shit)

A/N: I beg of you follow Ruth's advice on how to handle a record because some people do it Wrong. Don't be one of those people, please. Somehow, she's 16 now which is weird, but not that weird seen as she is literally a figment of my own imagination. This chapter is over 4000 words long which makes it the longest thing I've ever written.

I’m thinking about changing the point of view again. I’m currently in first but I might change it to third. First is good for funny scenes like in this chapter, but it’s not ideal for the deeper stuff I have planned later. Yes, I have a plot. Shock horror. But we shall wait and see on that one. If I do change it, I won’t edit the previous chapters to fit it because I really can’t be bothered.

Everyone, please stay safe because of what's going on and stay optimistic and occupied. For example, I'll have more time to write! It's a scary time but it will pass, like everything does at some point. OK I've gotten too philosophical. I shall stop now. This chapter is sponsored by me calling Dr Brian Harold May 'Clog Man'. This chapter title comes from Queen's 1980 album, 'The Game'.

“Good morning, peasants!” I declared as I quite literally swept into Transfiguration that morning, a crown perched precariously atop of my head, my robe billowing behind me. My dearest courtiers trailed along in my wake, begrudgingly carrying my belongings. How generous of them, I thought to myself, as if they had had any say in the matter in the first place. My loyal subjects celebrated my entrance and I gracefully sat down in my assigned seat, feet on the table, chair tipped back at precisely the right angle. I didn’t want to fall and get a concussion, now did I? Especially not on that day of all days.

Now you may wonder what on Gaia’s green earth I am on about, you may begin to question my sanity, you may finally start to piece the clues together and realise I am in fact, a total nutter. About time you did, if I’m completely honest with you, darling. However, like most of my shenanigans, the reason for all this was a well-founded one, if I did say so myself. For Twas my birthday, my sixteenth birthday to be precise, and that meant I got to be queen for a day. Not as long as I would like but hey ho, it was better than nothing. I had all the time in the world to take over the world so being queen could wait for now. Even better than this temporary monarchy, becoming sixteen came with plenty of hobbies I could now I enjoy legally, such as having sex, smoking and drinking wine in a restaurant. As if the law had stopped me before. Following the law is for the weak and my mother did not raise me to be anything of the sort.

Now as a queen such as myself, it is my regal responsibility to keep up appearances, which, to put it simply, meant to look pretty damn fabulous at all times. Hence why I was sporting a magnificent golden crown enchanted to stay on my head for the whole day and matching robe-cloak-thing. You know what I’m on about. Personally, I was rather pleased with my attire. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for one Minerva McGonagall.

An exasperated sigh from the front of the classroom was reluctantly followed by, “White, dare I ask why you are not in proper uniform?” she gestured vaguely at my majestic outfit.

“It would certainly be rather daring of you, professor,” I replied, without missing a beat. A classic raised eyebrow went my way, so I let out a sigh of my own before saying, “Tis my sixteenth birthday, dearest Minnie. If I have to attend lessons on such an occasion, then I must be allowed to dress appropriately.”

“And you consider a crown half as big as yourself to be appropriate for school?” her wonderfully Scottish voice quipped back.

“Why of course ma’am, you see it’s what I like to call my thinking cap,” I grinned broadly at her before joining a giggling Sirius who had gone to great lengths to keep it all in.

But nothing in this godforsaken world, and I do not say that lightly, could have prepared me for Minnie’s response: “Then perhaps it will do you some good.” She turned to the blackboard behind her to begin the lesson I had partly succeeded in delaying.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well. I clutched at my chest as if I’d been shot, and believe me it felt like I had been, and dramatically fell into the arms of James, as he was the unfortunate soul who sat next to me. I weakly reached up to touch his face as they do in the muggle movies, made a mental note to remind him to fucking shave and heaved out, “Jamie, I won’t last much longer but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What, my darling? What is it?” he asked, faithfully going along with my foolish antics as always, the poor sod.

“I…love…” I whispered before going limp in his arms as if I was dead.

“Ruth, my love, no!” he hugged my ‘corpse’ while sobbing rather profoundly.

Sirius leapt to his feet (I had to open my eyes slightly for this bit) and declared, “What do you mean ‘my love’? Ruth has been the love of my life since I first laid eyes on her!”

“You foul fiend! Ruth was the second reason for my very existence after Evans, thank you very much!” James too jumped up, leaving me to flop onto the stone floor with an ungraceful ‘ugh’. I could sense Lily’s annoyance from the other side of the classroom.

James and Sirius both grabbed their wands, pointed them at one another, but instead of cursing each other, they used them like fencing swords. Just before Sirius could ‘stab’ James, I myself jumped up and cried, “Wait!” at the same time Minnie yelled, “Enough!”

Naturally, we took no notice of this.

Both boys turned to look at me, only for me to say, “I don’t love either of you. I love Remus!” I pointed at the boy in question who in turn smirked his classic smirk.

He opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by an infuriated Minnie, “I said enough! Sit down, all three of you or it’s detention for a week!” Now I was pretty sure she was only letting us off because she was well aware that if I was given detention on my birthday, I would certainly not go. I’d like to think it was because she loved us dearly, but my mother didn’t raise me to be a liar either. Considering the circumstances, a.k.a. my huge fucking party I had planned for later on, I did what I almost never did.

I sat down.

Not without a snarky “ooooooooh” of course.

Naturally, Minnie wasn’t all that impressed with my reply, “Evans, swap seats with White, please.”

Naturally, I wasn’t all that impressed with her reply either, “Professor, are you seriously going to move me on my birthday?”

“That is correct.”

“Miss, that’s not fair, I haven’t even done anything that bad, we’re all in one piece, aren’t we? Besides, why is it only me that’s getting moved, what’s up with that?”

“You’re not the only one I’m moving, I’m also moving Evans, am I not?” she snapped, not at all pleased with my outburst, “Now please move seats, you are disrupting my lesson.”

I pouted like a little child on the naughty step, grabbed my stuff together and plonked myself where Lily had been sitting, next to a girl who had only started in September, from Greece or Italy or somewhere. I suddenly realised Lily was now sitting next to James, so I felt the need to apologise, “Sorry, Lily!”, I said in a similar manner to a kid who was forced to say sorry to their sibling after hitting them. She just shot me a reproachful look which had me fearing for my life for a second, before turning to the lesson that could finally begin.

Obviously, I wasn’t exactly keen to take part in the lesson, so I opted for attempting to get to know my new desk partner, “You’re the new girl, right?”

I was met with a blank stare and confusion from both parties until something clicked for me: if she had just moved here from another country then she probably didn’t speak much English.

Well shit.

I tried again, simplifying my language but hopefully not sounding too patronising, “Are you new?”

The poor girl still strongly resembled a deer in headlights but nodded, “Yes?”

“What’s your name, darling?” I was determined to get to know this girl, she seemed nice enough and, knowing from experience what it felt like to be the new kid, I felt a strange urge to help her.

She cocked her head to the side in confusion, now looking like an owl of some sort. It was at this point where I gave up and just waved her off, “Don’t worry.” If Minnie was as adamant about me staying in this seat as I suspected, I’d have plenty of time later to try and talk to this girl. Maybe when she knew a bit more English. Or maybe I could teach her some? Well saying that I’m not sure how good of a teacher I would actually be. I’d probably be more of a nuisance than a help.

The rest of the school day carried on in a similar fashion, with the usual jokes played out in a more dramatic manner than usual. Fine by me. The end of lessons couldn’t come soon enough but at last, they were over. Meaning I could finally, finally, open my damn presents.

Well, I say presents, but me being the impatient bastard that I am, I actually opened most of them that morning at breakfast. Which involved about a year’s supply of chocolate, a 10-pack of condoms and no less than three boxes of tea from various posh shops in London. And a hell of a lot of magical alcohol, which was far better than the muggle stuff, but we don’t talk about that. There was only one present left and that was the one from the woman who birthed me. I realise that I have led you under false pretences of sentiment towards my dear mother, and while I do in fact over her greatly, this is not the case. It was actually because our family owl, Bob (don’t ask me why he’s called fucking Bob, Rhea named him), is quite possibly slower than a bloody snail and took the whole day to fly from Cromer to Scotland.

I ran up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, which is saying something considering I don’t run for anything, and there it was, laying on what was basically my bed when Kingsley wasn’t around, wrapped in shining gold paper, my birthday present. Instantly I got a huge sense of déjà vu, as I knew exactly what it was.

A vinyl record.

Because what else do I do with my spare time these days?

I carefully picked it up, observing it in the stream of November sunlight coming from the window. Judging from the size and weight of it, it was definitely an album, my excitement increasing tenfold. I opened it as carefully as possible to discover that it was indeed Queen’s new album. Their iconic crest was printed on the front in a loud colour scheme of orange and pink. The title was written in black cursive: ‘A Night At The Opera’. The whole thing, though relatively simple in its design, screamed regalness.

I was so mesmerised by it that I didn’t even see the envelope on the bed until I very nearly sat on it. My mum’s familiar handwriting addressed me on the front of it and inside was a card with the most gorgeous watercolour print of the Cromer Pier which had me missing it terribly. I opened it to read what she had written and I couldn’t wipe the grin off of my face.

To Ruth,

Happy birthday, darling! It’s hard to believe you’re 16 now, I still see you as my gorgeous baby girl! I know I can’t see you on your special day, but half term is less than a month away – you’ll be home before we know it!

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done, and we all love you very much. Have a wonderful day with your friends!

Lots of love,

Mum, Rhea and Luke xxx

P.S. Don’t tell Mum but I got you a sort of magical cactus from Diagon Alley but I’ll give it to you when you come back – Rhea

P.P.S What Rhea forgot to tell you is that the cactus was my idea, I just didn’t have any pocket money left after going to the sweet shop - Luke

I smiled at the message and at my siblings’ additions at the bottom and found myself missing them more than I anticipated. I put on my bedside table, next to the magical photo us the boys and me which never failed to make me laugh. It was of us knee-deep in the Great Lake, around the July of our third year. James had his back to the camera but still showed his face and his lopsided grin; he was carrying Sirius over his shoulder like a fireman, the latter of which was showing his middle finger to the camera as best he could. Peter was mid-fall in front of them, just seconds before face-planting the water. Remus was to the right of them, trying his best to avoid getting wet from Peter’s inevitable splash, his face all screwed up in an attempt to protect his eyes. I was trying to hoist myself up onto Remus’s shoulders, which wouldn’t have been so difficult if he wasn’t so fucking tall, even at 14 he was a giant. The photo was magical, so we were all moving around as we had been at the time. I was lucky enough to have caught the exact moment I pulled my wand out and cast the aguamenti charm, aiming at everyone’s head but more importantly, James and Sirius’s hair. The photo was an endless cycle of me jumping up, casting the spell and being chased around by everyone before going back to our original positions.

I reluctantly turned away from the treasured photo, picked up the album and turned to run to the Room Of Requirement so I could listen to the artistry I held in my undeserving hands. Somehow, my close good friends beat me to it; there they stood in the doorway, carrying my dear record player between them with wide grins on their faces, not altogether dissimilar from the one James sported in the photograph.

I wondered for a second how the vinyl got itself onto my bed, and how the boys knew they had to get my record player, but then I realised my mother must have told them in advance. She may have been a Hufflepuff, but I do sometimes think she would have made a fine Slytherin. Surprise kids, I don’t have a prejudice against the entirety of Slytherin house, just the ones who are, quite frankly, dickheads. Not my fault if that’s the majority of them.

They popped my dear baby on the floor and sat down various surfaces: the floor, their beds, Remus’s lap (*cough cough* Sirius *cough cough*). I ever-so-carefully removed the vinyl from its sleeve and placed it onto the turntable, only touching the outermost edges so as to not get grease into the grooves of the record. Now, I can’t be ruining it already.

“I hope you know we love you enough to carry that thing all the way here,” Sirius whined, mopping non-existent sweat from his forehead using’s Remus’s poor jumper. The audacity he had to refer to my precious record player as ‘that thing’. I didn’t hit him, which is very unlike me, but I refused to sink to his level. Twat.

“Thank you darling but I think, in the midst of wanting to show off your varying levels of strength, you all forgot you could simply levitate my baby here,” I flopped onto Remus’s bed (by far the cleanest one) as Peter repeatedly smacked James with a pillow, “What did I say, James? What did I fucking say?”

Poor James just groaned at him to stop, arms up in a quite frankly pathetic bid to protect himself. He looked at me helplessly, but I just shook my head with a cheeky smirk on my face, “Nope, you got yourself into this mess, I’m not getting involved.”

Sirius, on the other hand, was laughing so much that Remus had to move him from lying against his chest to having his head in his lap to prevent him from hurting himself. I was half-convinced that Sirius was in fact having a heart attack but at this point, I was not nearly drunk enough to put up with his bullshit. Oh yeah, forgot to mention we each took a shot after breakfast seen as it’s my birthday, only increasing our chances of getting alcohol poisoning within the next weekend or so. But let’s be honest, I’m only using my birthday as an excuse to drink more alcohol at eight o’clock in the morning.

A few more smacks and one case of concussion later, we had all calmed down enough for me to play my goddamn record. Suspense hung in the air as the tiny crackles of an unused record sounded, followed by a crescendo of lightning-fast piano. Definitely not what I expected from a song entitled ‘Death On Two Legs (Dedicated To…)’, until Brian’s slightly menacing guitar burst through the speakers. The rest of the carried on in a similar fashion, fancy piano and angry guitar combined with lyrics I could only describe as savage. I made a mental note to look at the enclosed lyrics later on to see what exactly Freddie was singing, as even for my standards it was rather mean. I also couldn’t help but wonder who this was dedicated to and what they had done for Freddie to sing about them in such a manner. Must be quite the dickhead. Maybe someone like Snivellus. You can’t get much worse than Snivellus.

The next song was called ‘Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon’ and I couldn’t help but giggle throughout it. It felt very vintage, the singing was distorted somewhat, but it seemed more as if they were taking the mick out of the genre. It was a little thing, hardly a couple of minutes long, and soon transitioned to ‘I’m In Love With My Car’, which I distinctly remembered from the B-side of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. That song will never fail to make me laugh. How a man can be so attached to his car, I’ll never know.

Those comedic masterpieces were followed by ‘You’re My Best Friend’, which I fell in love with within the first five seconds. The adorable little piano, the adorable little lyrics, the adorable little bass, okay I could go on like this for hours, but the point is that I loved this song and would gladly be its friend, were it a person. Yeah, I may have been a tad tipsy, might have had something to do with the shots we took between lessons on top of the one at breakfast. I had wanted to maintain a state of slight tipsiness throughout the day. Moving swiftly on.

‘39’ was next, and it was safe to say that I wasn’t expecting any of it. At first, the guitar made me chuckle, then the realisation that it was just vocals, guitar and fucking tambourine, and then the fact that it was almost certainly a county song about space. Brian was singing, of course it was Brian, and I seemed to have forgotten how talented a singer he actually is. And a songwriter because let’s be real, there is no way in hell that anyone in the band apart from Clog Man wrote this.

‘Sweet Lady’ came after that, which contrasted ‘39’ so much that it basically gave me whiplash. To be honest, I should have seen that coming seeing as that was how Queen seemed to work, a heavy rock song followed by something completely different and so on and so on. You’d think you’d grow tired of constantly changing styles but somehow Queen pulled it off magnificently, as they did with pretty much anything they set their minds to. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, don’t get me wrong it was a cool song, just not quite my cup of tea. I felt a little bit guilty about not liking it, but I forced myself to remember that I didn’t have to like every song on the album in order to be a fan.

‘Seaside Rendezvous’ was the next song and the last one on side A. I found it very quirky and much more to my liking. I could easily imagine myself going for a stroll down the beach back at home while humming this. And potentially dancing to it down the pier. Although I would look quite the crackhead as no one else would be able to hear it; but since when did I care about looking like a twat? I was already friends with plenty of twats, I stopped caring years ago. Somewhere in the middle of the song, there was a part that sounded like an orchestra of some kind, but I could tell Roger had something to do with the woodwind section, which led to some rather interesting images in my mind. Make of that what you will. The tap-dancing part made me laugh because I highly doubted that any of them could actually tap dance, leading to me wondering how to the fuck they did that. My brain also thought it was necessary to conjure up some cursed images of Brian tap-dancing in his clogs. Fucking hell, what was wrong with me?

As quickly and carefully as I could, I flipped the record onto the B-side, which started off with ‘The Prophet’s Song’. I was so naïve to think that ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was long; this bad boy was all of eight minutes and basically a musical on its own, worthy of the likes of the West End or Broadway. The absolute artistry of the lyrics and the music quickly made it one of my favourites so far, which was saying something as I loved the whole damn album anyway. There was a good couple of minutes of straight acapella, mainly just countless overdubs of Freddie singing ‘no I know’ at various different pitches; then Roger and Brian joining in for a chorus of ‘la la la la la’. It was strangely creepy, and I had yet to figure out if that was their intention.

That then flowed almost seamlessly into ‘Love Of My Life’, a melancholic ballad that was as beautiful as it was sad. It didn’t take me long to work out that it was a harp rather than an acoustic guitar, I grinned at the mental images of Brian learning the harp for the sake of this one song. Surely if he’d known how to play it all along, he would have shown off his musical prowess much earlier.

Naturally, the next song flipped this whole vibe that had just been created on its head. ‘Good Company’ was its name and it involved a whole band created solely by Brian’s guitar. It seemed funny to me, but I didn’t know why. A bit like with ‘Sweet Lady’, I wasn’t all too sure if I like it or not. I did notice Brian singing again; it was nice to hear his voice on the record more, not to diss Freddie or Roger in any way, shape or form. Now I wanted to hear John sing and we would be good to go.

The last proper song on the album was, of course, the absolute masterpiece (or as Sirius liked to call it, ‘an utter fucking bop’) that was ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Considering the sheer amount of times we’ve listened to the record since it came out, it wasn’t all that surprising that we knew all the words off by heart. This was including playing all five minutes and fifty-five seconds of it while James was in the shower, so he didn’t spend hours in there and use up all the hot water. The rule was that he had to be out by the time the song had ended, or we would send Lily the picture we had of him with his hair all wet. And he would die before he consented to such a thing. Trust me, it’s not a particularly flattering look on him. I had to remind them to resist the urge to jump around when the rock bit came on, you know what I’m on about, so as to not damage the vinyl already.

The last track was a guitar rendition of ‘God Save The Queen’, which was outrageous as it was excessive. Just layers upon layers of guitar, I would forever be impressed by Brian’s skills. Sirius, however, was still moaning over his restricted movement.

“But why can’t we jump? It’s so much more fun that headbanging alone,” Sirius whined like the petulant child that he was. I had to give him at least some credit, he may have an impressive amount of muggle knowledge, but he was still a pureblood and a Black at that. He could be so naïve sometimes.

“Darling you have to understand that it’s a sensitive little thing. If you jump, so will the vinyl, which will scratch it and it will jump at awkward times,” I explained, to which I was met with blank stares as if I was speaking in bloody Welsh. I sighed, perhaps a little more dramatically than necessary but if that doesn’t some up my whole life then I don’t know what does, and tried again, “Like with my Sheer Heart Attack record? Where it jumps during Brighton Rock and Killer Queen?”

“Ohhhh,” understanding washed over his and James’s faces because let’s be honest, if you think Sirius is oblivious then clearly, you’ve never met James.

“Yes, ohhhh,” I repeated, taking the mick out of the stupid buggers. Hey, it’s my birthday, I’m allowed to do whatever I want.

Which reminded me of the party I had planned for later. Well, I say party, it was going to be more of a ball than anything. A birthday ball, if you will. What can I say, I have a flair for the dramatics, sue me.

#marauders #marauders headcanon #marauders imagine #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #70s marauders #lgbt fanfiction #lgbtlove #lgbtq #lgbt #Harry Potter #killer queen #queen imagine #queen band #Queen #Freddie mercury #roger taylor #peter pettigrew #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #John Deacon #James Potter #Brian May #indian james potter

[artificialqueens]

drawing new lines, chapter one (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | (word count: 3756)

AN: Hello, new multichap! This one has been an extremely fun one to write so far, and I can’t wait to keep going. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Special thanks for Writ for being a wonderful beta, for listening to me throw ideas left write and centre and encouraging even the most headass of plots. Also shoutout to Barbie for coming up with Brooke’s career in this fic, aka wanting an architect Brooke. Title of the fic from Flying by Wrabel. Enjoy!

There’s no part of Vanessa’s day better than lunchtime.

The damn good lunch she’s packed if she’s meal prepped for the week. The myriad of cafeteria options if she hasn’t. The break from the politics and ridiculousness of working in the HR department. The top up of caffeine after her morning coffee begins to wear off.

But the best part of it all? Having forty five minutes to talk smack with Silky and A’keria, gossiping about their love lives and their coworkers and being noisy enough to annoy everyone else in the cafeteria.

Today, Vanessa’s the one partly responsible for inciting their shenanigans. She just can’t help it, not when Aquaria from marketing apparently has a new boyfriend and Vanessa knows for a fact that her new man ain’t gonna make her come as many times as Vanessa had when they were dating.

“I’m telling you, she ain’t never gonna have as good as when she had me.” Vanessa takes a sip of her coke as she watches Aquaria by the vending machine, arm in arm with her man.

“You don’t sound jealous at all, boo.” A’keria’s smile is all too knowing, and Vanessa has to stick her tongue out at her.

“I ain’t jealous.” She isn’t. “Aquaria was a total pillow princess in bed. You think I want that situation again? Nooo, thank you.”

Silky snickers. “We were almost convinced for a second there.”

“Please. I feel bad for her, if anything. She probably ain’t gonna get what she needs from him.” Vanessa tries to picture what the clean cut guy beside Aquaria does in bed. Somehow, with the side part and tucked in shirt and loafers, she finds that she can’t.

“And what is it that she needs? Your tongue? Your fingers?” A’keria wiggles her eyebrows. “Your strap?”

“Y’all hateful.” Vanessa scowls as Silky starts smacking the table from laughing so hard.

“All I’m saying is that Aquaria can do better. Though honestly, so can I. And she wasn’t even my last girlfriend. I can get me the ladies.” Vanessa scoffs as she says it. She totally can. She’s a ladykiller.

She is.

Ish.

“Is that so, Vanj? Tell us, who are the last few girls you got?” A’keria cocks her head, wiggles in her seat like she’s excited for Vanessa’s answer.

Hmph.

“Well. There was Aquaria, obviously. Who was all over me when we were dating. There was Kameron. Ariel. There was Scarlet for a short time, too.”

Silky wrinkles her nose. “Y’know, I always forget you dated Scarlet. That concept’s fucking weird.”

“It was fucking weird. That’s why we broke up so fast.” Vanessa shudders. “All I’m saying, though, is that I can get me a lady. I’m a catch, I really am. Hey, stop laughing!”

A’keria and Silky are too busy guffawing to hear her, and Vanessa can’t take this attack on her reputation, she really can’t. She’s got game, and she knows she can prove it.

“Fine. Name a lady. Any lady that works here, even if she straight. I bet I can get her to go out with me.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “It’s the Vanjie charm.”

“Ooh bitch, you’re asking for it. This gonna be good. We gotta think.” Silky drums her fingers on the table, leans back in her chair as A’keria takes a sip of her drink.

Vanessa takes a bite of her sandwich, tries not to be bothered as Silky and A’keria let out hmmms and I wonders. That is, until Silky slams her fist on the table.

“Brooke Lynn motherfucking Hytes.”

“What-”

“Not her-”

“I said what I said.” Silky gestures to Brooke, one of the firm’s top architecture project managers, currently waiting in line for her coffee across the cafeteria.

A specimen so fine that even Vanessa feels a tingle running down her spine. Or maybe that’s because she needs to pee.

Regardless.

“You land her? I’ll buy your lunch for a month.” Silky leans back in her seat, crosses her arms.

“Shit, really?” Vanessa raises an eyebrow at her. “An entire month?”

“You’re acting like you have a chance of success in the first place.” Silky looks a little too amused for Vanessa’s liking, and she feels herself bristle just a bit.

“I sure as hell do.” Sure, maybe Vanessa’s talking out of her ass, but she’s not gonna show it. Not to Silky and A’keria who are regarding her with smug smiles.

So what if Brooke, in her six inch stilettos and pencil skirt that hugs her ass perfectly, is sure as fuck out of Vanessa’s league? So what if Brooke’s known for turning down men and women alike that try to ask her out without so much as a second glance?

Brooke doesn’t wear a ring, which means that she’s fair game. And Vanessa’s going to make it happen.

“Just you wait. Imma make Miss Hytes fall head over heels for me, fuckers.”

Sure, the drama of Vanessa’s statement is slightly ruined by Silky letting out a snort, but the effect is strong enough.

Vanessa’s not going to have to meal prep for an entire month, if she can play her cards just right.

Brooke Lynn Hytes is a creature of habit.

Waking up, then going on a thirty minute run. Breakfast of kale and egg whites. Reaching work ten minutes early. Touching base with all the leads on her current project, making sure that it’s going smoothly. Getting the work done that she needs to before lunch rolls around, a lunch that she spends on her phone catching up with even more work emails. Working until precisely 4:30 pm, when she can roll out the door in time to make her spin class at 5:15 up in midtown.

There isn’t much that disrupts the routine if she has anything to say about it. That is, until she’s packing up at 4:32 and slipping her coat on and a woman knocks on her office door, entering before she can say anything.

“Hytes, right?” The woman flashes her a smile bright enough to knock out the power in the city, and Brooke’s attention is definitely captured away from her things on her desk.

The woman looks familiar. HR, maybe? Maybe the one who’d come around after John had said lewd things to Brooke’s secretary. Though Brooke’s not sure. “And you are…?”

“Oh! Right.” The woman pauses, sticking out a hand. “Vanessa.”

Brooke shakes the woman’s hand, noting that her grip is firm, something she always likes. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m here on…non work related business.”  Vanessa’s smile is sheepish, and Brooke pauses, waiting for her to continue, because she has no idea what the business could possibly be.

“So, here’s the thing. I have a bet to win that involves no meal prep for me for an entire month.” Vanessa drums her fingers on Brooke’s desk, almost nervously.  

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with me?”

She’s never really interacted with Vanessa before, so she’s not sure how-

“The bet involves you, too.” Vanessa’s fidgety now, and it almost makes Brooke want to laugh, how nervous she is. “Two coworkers bet that I couldn’t get you to go out with me.”

Really?

Brooke snorts, because really, she should have expected it. “Did they, now?”

“Listen, I know it sounds wack-”

“No thanks.” Brooke goes back to packing up her things, tucking confidential files into the drawers of her desk, pulling her coat over her shoulders. “Don’t think I can help you out with that.”

Vanessa, for her part, remains unperturbed. “There’s perks. You can split the free food with me.”

Brooke snorts. “While that’s a very generous offer, I’m still going to have to say no.”

“Aw, why not?” Vanessa comes around the side of her desk, and Brooke gets a good look at her. She’s looking up at Brooke with a defiant expression in her eyes, one that doesn’t want to take no for an answer, and Brooke almost respects it.

But she also has a spin class to get to, which means that ‘almost’ isn’t really enough to make her want to be late.

“Okay, look.” Vanessa continues when Brooke doesn’t answer, instead focused on zipping up her coat. “This ain’t all just for my benefit. It could help you too.”

“Oh yeah? How so?” Brooke lets her keep talking for the sole fact that she wants to see where Vanessa’s reasoning will go. Vanessa’s incredibly entertaining, as much as Brooke doesn’t want to admit it.

“Ain’t there lots of people who try and snatch you up? You’re like The Bachelorette of this office building.”

Brooke has to hold back a laugh. “There are people that have tried to ask me out, yes. But I wouldn’t necessarily call myself that.”

“Chris Harrison must be lurking around here somewhere to host a season for you.” Vanessa’s grinning, and Brooke can’t help but notice how cute it is. “I’d wanna be on that season.”

“Would you now?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point. The point is, you got lotsa people bothering you, right? This way you can pretend to date me and just say you’re taken.” Vanessa’s looking at her like she’s just solved the world’s biggest math problem.

“I don’t know if that would necessarily work. We’d have to convince people that we were actually together, first of all.”

Vanessa waves a hand. “It ain’t gonna take Oscar-worthy acting to fool these buffoons. We could do it. Plus, ain’t you got people who bother you about finding someone? Friends and shit?”

Brooke thinks back to her last get together with Nina, when they’d gotten drinks and Nina kept waving her engagement ring around like it was a prized possession, like having a ring on her finger had magically solved all of her problems. Which it hadn’t, obviously, because despite the engagement ring Nina still has to deal with her car transmission needing repairs and her boyfriend (fiancé) coming home from work too late. So what’s the point, really?

Though it never stops Nina and Courtney and Steve from trying to set Brooke up with their friends (‘wanna go out with her, she kissed me in college which means she’s definitely still a lesbian, right?’), from them lamenting on and on that Brooke will eventually find the right person, she will, despite the fact that Brooke doesn’t really care.

Or want to find anyone, really.

Brooke’s got her job and her vibrator. The only two things she needs in life, really, for fulfillment.

But Vanessa’s still standing there in her too tall heels that don’t do much to increase her height, really, an expectant look on her face as she waits for Brooke’s answer, Brooke can tell that Vanessa’s already gotten her figured out.

“Maybe.”

“This can get them off your back. All we gotta do is show up at some social engagements and work events and shit and, bam. Fake couple. We both get a payout.” Vanessa grins, really grins, rubbing her hands together like a scheming cartoon villain, and Brooke can’t help how entertaining she finds her.

“You’re still offering half of your free lunches?” Brooke holds back a snort.

“We can cross that bridge when we get to it.” Vanessa waves a hand, before reaching across Brooke’s desk to grab the stack of post-it notes that sits next to her coffee mug.

Vanessa scrawls ten digits in messy handwriting, sliding them across the desk towards Brooke. “In the meantime? Think about it. Get back to me. You can be part of the greatest finesse ever pulled at this godforsaken office. All you gotta do is say yes.”

With that, Vanessa turns on her heel and leaves, but not before shooting a wink in Brooke’s direction. Brooke finds herself stuck in place for longer than she wants to admit, replaying the sway in Vanessa’s hips as she lets the door close behind her.

She snaps out of it when she looks down at the numbers scrawled on the post-it note, followed by a short, almost indecipherable message in messy handwriting.

U know how to reach me. Xoxoxo, V.  

The text comes through a couple of days later when Vanessa’s going over some policy that her supervisor wants to review again for the millionth time, and she nearly drops her phone in excitement when the unknown number pops up, because finally.

Fine. We can try to do this.

“Yesssss!” Vanessa can’t help the little fist pump that escapes her, because Brooke’s agreed and she gets free food but most importantly, the chance to rub it in the faces of Silky and A’keria.

Vanessa saves the number as quick as she can before replying.

VVM: knew u would see the light sooner or later.

BLH: awful presumptuous.

VVM: it’s just smart business!

BLH: how is any of this a business deal?

VVM: I dunno but I sure as hell am feeling as smug as the suits in our office building.

BLH: regardless, we gotta lay down some ground rules. For this to even work.

VVM: I’m snoozing already

VVM: let’s do this over lunch

BLH: are you food motivated for everything in your life?

VVM: maybe

VVM: Benny’s at 12:30?

BLH: unbelievable

BLH: see you then

Benny’s Sandwich Shop is a hole in the wall across the street from their office building that, in Vanessa’s eyes, has the best damn paninis in the city. She rubs her hands together in excitement before digging into her veggie grilled sandwich, wanting to make it last as long as possible.

Brooke’s sitting across the table, and looking at her with a slightly raised eyebrow. “That excited for your sandwich?”

Vanessa scoffs at the sad looking bowl in front of Brooke. “Better than coming to a sandwich shop and ordering a damn salad. What are you, a rabbit?”

“A rabbit who knows what she likes.” Brooke raises her fork towards Vanessa before taking a bite. “So. Rules.”

“Right, rules.” Vanessa rummages in her bag before pulling out a notebook and pen. She’s not going to be unprepared, not when she can get free lunch from A’keria out of it. “Number one, no dating anyone else while we faking it. Obviously.”

“You’re acting as if that’s a rule I would break.” Brooke has a smile playing on her lips and Vanessa scoffs.

“Just being thorough. I won’t either, so.”

“Or I’d be so heartbroken if you did.”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Brooke, who seems to be enjoying their situation way too much. “Not even an hour into fake dating and you already pulling on my pigtails.”

“Sorry.” Brooke winks and Vanessa’s breath absolutely does not hitch in her throat at the sight, no ma’am. “Rule two?”

“We gotta show up at some events together. To sell it and all that, otherwise A’keria ain’t gonna buy it.” Vanessa can already see A’keria’s piercing gaze, can already hear the soft mmmhm that she always lets out whenever she gets suspicious.

“Doable.” Brooke writes it down in the notebook. “Events like what?”

“Like some group dinners or evenings out, or holiday or New Years parties coming up, shit like that. To make it look like we cuffed for the season.” Vanessa pictures going to holiday parties with Brooke hanging off of her arm, maybe in a tight dress that hugs her-

She needs to focus.

“Okay. Rule three?” Brooke’s pen is poised to write and Vanessa kinda likes it, how in sync they are already.

Vanessa almost doesn’t want to bring up the next one, but since it’ll be a big component of faking a relationship, she grits her teeth and leans forward on the table to ask the question. “PDA. Thoughts?”

Brooke wrinkles her nose. “Not too big on overdoing it, but I can take some pecks here and there. Holding hands, being arm in arm.”

Vanessa nearly awws, because Brooke’s description is akin to the time in seventh grade when she’d ‘dated’ a boy in her class for three weeks before he broke up with her by the baseball diamond.

Not her finest moment, dating wise.

“I can do that.” The more she thinks about it, the more Vanessa is open to the idea. Participating in all of the innocent, early parts of a relationship, the ones viewed by everyone.

A small part of Vanessa wonders how Brooke’s hand will fit in hers, if it’ll be warm or cold. If she’ll fit against Brooke’s side like she belongs there. She’s excited to find out.

Brooke leans forward in her seat. “Not a rule but - how are we going to tell people we started seeing each other? What will the story be?”

Vanessa pauses and thinks, really thinks. She wants it to be elaborate but not so elaborate that it’s unbelievable, but just enough detail to convince others that their story is authentic.

“Easy. We ran into each other in the hall and you spilled coffee on my shirt and helped me clean it up in the bathroom, and the rest is history.” Vanessa’s proud of her imagination, really, until Brooke snorts.

“So we started dating because you took your shirt off?”

Vanessa huffs. “Got any better ideas?”

“Sticking with the coffee theme, here’s one. We started talking in the line for Starbucks and coincidentally ordered the same drink, then sat and talked about it, before talking about other things. Then you left your number on my cup before you left.” Brooke looks entirely too pleased with herself, the smile lighting her features as she takes a bite of her salad.

Vanessa’s not sold, though. “Why am I the one who writes the number?”

“Why, never had the balls to leave a lady your number before?”

“Hey.” Vanessa swats at Brooke’s arm, ignores the way she’s snickering. She knows that Brooke’s trying to bait her, she is, that somehow she’s already figured out the way that Vanessa ticks.

Doesn’t mean she’s going to try something different this time, though.

“Fine. I write the number. Let’s go with yours.” Vanessa lets out a huff before grabbing the pen from Brooke’s hand, writing their origin story on a corner of the page.

But they need to get back to the task at hand, something that Vanessa realizes when she puts the lid back on her pen. She uncaps it once more. “Rule number four. Social media. We gotta add each other on Instagram and post with each other here and there.”

“All I post on Instagram are my two cats.” Brooke’s smile is sheepish and Vanessa can’t help but let out a snort.

“Shit, you sure you ain’t a crazy cat lady?” Vanessa winks at her before reaching out, grabbing her hand, something that feels more right than it should. “We’ll sprinkle in some actual humans in between the cats.”

Brooke squeezes her hand back, something that doesn’t escape her notice. “Fine. Gimme your phone so I can add myself.”

Vanessa files a note to herself to stalk through Brooke’s instagram later after Brooke accepts her follow request, to look past the cats and for some more information about her, maybe about her past exes-

Nah. Just to be thorough, make sure she knows just enough.

Brooke holds up her own phone, the screen on a boomerang of Vanessa on holiday with Silky, facing away from the camera and pulling her bikini bottoms down for just a second. “Seems like your vacations are fun.”

“Bitch-hey. ” Vanessa tries to reach for Brooke’s phone but Brooke’s arms are longer, easily holding the phone out of Vanessa’s way.

“I feel like I’m going to have a great time scrolling through your instagram, I really do.” Brooke’s looking smug, too smug, and Vanessa huffs.

“Don’t think I won’t find your weird ass posts, too.”

Brooke’s eyes are sparkling. “I know you will. Though I’m not as defensive as you are.“

“Okay, last rule.” Vanessa shoves the notebook in between them, intent on distracting Brooke from her nightmare of an Instagram account. “Five seems like a good place to end. Any ideas?”

“I got one.” Brooke leans forward in her seat slightly. “Promise not to fall in love with me by the end of this.”

Vanessa lets out a laugh, an actual laugh, because Brooke is awful presumptuous. “I’m only in this for free food and bragging rights against A’keria. That won’t be a problem at all, don’t you worry your little blonde head.” She pauses, looking back over at Brooke, who still has a shit eating grin on her face. “And you can’t fall in love with me, either. I know I’m irresistible and all that, but-”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Please. I’m just doing this to get my friends off my back. You’ll be just fine.”

Vanessa wonders what it’ll be like meeting Brooke’s friends. What they’re like, what they’ll think of her. Not that it matters, really, since it’s all gonna be fake. But still.

“I think that about covers it all.” Vanessa looks at their list, pleased with how it’s all beginning to come together. “We’ll be able to fool these hoes, easy.”

“You think so?” Brooke trails her pen over the list, as if she’s trying to find something that they’ve missed.

“I know so. And hey, if we wanna add or take something out, we can always change it. This list open to edits.”

Brooke looks satisfied. “Good. And like any good paper contract, we have to sign on the dotted line.”

Her signature on the bottom of the page is fancy, all loops and flourishes and Vanessa can’t help but scoff. “What kinda extra-ass signature is that?”

“A nice one. Yours is boring.” Brooke points to Vanessa’s, smaller and definitely one with less loops and Vanessa crosses her arms.

“You’re boring.”

“Ooh, great comeback.” Brooke’s smiling, though, and it keeps Vanessa from wanting to reach over the table and shove her. “So, are we good to go?”

Vanessa sticks out a hand and Brooke shakes it with a firm grip. “That we are, blondie. Time to pull the greatest trick that our office ever did see.”

Rules:

No dating anyone else.

Show up at events together.

Light PDA only.

Interact on social media like a couple.

No falling in love.

Instagram story posted by @vanessavanjie. Location: @bennysdiner. Tagged: @bhytes. Description: A boomerang of Brooke Lynn Hytes sitting at a table, munching on what appears to be a salad. A gif of a rabbit eating a carrot is in the bottom left corner.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #drawing new lines #holtzmanns

[konstantya]

I just have a prompt idea of what would happen if Tasha and Data found out about Lore and Ishara. Maybe like an AU timeline or just some Q shenanigans

OKAYOKAY, ONE MORE PROMPT FILL (because I’m apparently making up for,like, two years of barely writing fic by writing multiple ones in thespan of a single month?  Pfft).  No Q shenanigans, I’m afraid, andpotentially quite a bit different from what you had in mind, but hereit is all the same!

AUin the sense that Tasha is still alive, and while I’ve obviouslytaken inspiration from my other Lore/Ishara stories, this isn’tofficially related to them (due to it being an AU and all).

.

Itwas at twenty-two hundred hours and thirty-seven minutes that Datahit his comm. badge.  “Data to Lieutenant Yar.”  1.09 secondslater came the tinny response:

“Yarhere.  What is it, Data?”

“Myapologies for contacting you at such a relatively late hour, but Ihave just received a message which will…concernyou, I believe.  Could you please come to my quarters?”

“Onmy way,”she immediately said, and then the comm. link broke off.

52.62seconds later, his door chimed.  “Come in,” he called, and thedoor slid open to reveal the familiar figure of Natasha Yar.  Shedidn’t quite look like she had run there, but considering herslightly elevated pulse, her open jacket, and the relatively shorttime it had taken her to arrive, it was very likely she had left hercabin immediately and walked briskly through the corridors.

“Hi,Data,” she said as the door swished shut behind her—a tokengreeting before she joined him at his computer console and got downto business.  “You said you received a concerning message?”

Hehad not precisely said that, but he let the point slide—her words,after all, were not exactly inaccurate.  “Yes.  It came in throughmy private channel.  It was a transmission from Lore.”

Tashastiffened at the name.  “Your brother?”

“Yes. I am afraid it also concerns…your sister.”

“Ishara?”she asked, now even tenser, and while it was difficult to gauge hertone, there was definitely a hint of worry in there.  Data nodded. Tasha was reluctant to talk about her sister at the best of times,and he watched as her expression settled into one of guardeddisturbance.  She crossed her arms over her chest.  Like she wasbracing for bad news.

“Perhapsyou should sit down,” he suggested.

“Justtell me, Data,” she practically ordered.  “What’s happened toher?  Did he kill her?  Is he trying to use her as some bait to—”

“Ibelieve it would be best to not make assumptions and to simply watchthe message for yourself.”

Tashahuffed unsteadily.  She was agitated, as he suspected she would be(as mostpeople were at the mention of his brother), and rounded his desk tostand beside him.  “Alright, then!” she relented, gesturing athis computer.  “Show it to me.  Let’s get this over with.”

Heglanced at her, wondering if he should offer her his chair, but thendecided against it.  Any further delays would probably just make hereven more upset.  With just the slightest hesitation, he openedLore’s message—a message that was simply labeled, ‘Hey,bro, thought you might like this’—andsuddenly there his brother was, filling the screen.  He was naked,kneeling on a mattress, and was currently in the process of (and Datasupposed there was really no other word for it, considering the hard,brutal pace of his thrusts) fuckingTasha’s sister quite senseless.  The volume of the recording wasturned down low, but Ishara’s wanton moans still filled thesurrounding area of his quarters all the same, the sound rhythmicallypunctuated by the incessant knocking of whatever bed they must havebeen on at the time.

Nextto him, Tasha gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth in horror. “Oh, my God,” she said through her fingers.  “Oh, my God!”she said again, her voice rising in pitch.  She actually took a stepback.  “Data, that’s my little sister!”

“Iam aware of your relation to her.”

“Oh,my God!” she said a third time.  On the screen, Lore hiked Ishara’slegs up over his shoulders, and her cries suddenly took on a moreurgent, desperate tone.  Her fingers fisted themselves in thesurrounding sheets, and she arched back, apparently lost in uttersexual ecstasy.

“Oh,my God,” Tasha said yet again.  She finally pulled her hands awayfrom her mouth, revealing a flushed and embarrassed face.  She flungan arm out toward the display.  “But how do they even know eachother!  How did they even meet!”

“Ido not know,” Data answered.  “The transmission did not includethat information.”  In the recording, his brother flipped hersister over onto her stomach, then proceeded to yank her hips up sohe could enter her from behind.  Lewd, squelchy noises echoed softlyin the air, and then Lore snaked a hand around her waist and inbetween her legs.  Ishara buried her face in a pillow, trying tomuffle her screams as she shook and climaxed.  Lore smirked, anddidn’t show any signs of slowing down.

“Oh,my God,” Tasha said for the fifth time.  The shock of seeing her younger sister having sex with his older brother seemed to have senther into a feedback loop.  She covered her face with her hands again,then pulled them back to fearfully ask, “How long does this go on?”

“Intotal, the message runs for four hours, thirteen minutes, andtwenty-three—”

“Jesus!”she squeaked, and put her head back in her hands.  Data consideredthis.

“Iassume you have seen enough?” he asked.

“Yes!”she exclaimed.  “For God’s sake, yes!”

Datahalted playback and closed the message.  For a long moment, the onlysound was Tasha’s unsteady respiration.  Her face was still red,and she seemed to have trouble raising her eyes to him.

“Christ,”she breathed.  After another moment, she swallowed, and managed toregain some of her composure.  Finally, she asked, “Does anyoneelse know about this?”

“No,”he said, and her relief was unmistakable.  “I figured it would bebest to inform you first, due to your obvious familial relation. Considering the…intimate nature of its contents, and the fact thatthe message conveys no actual threat or intent to cause harm—be itto me, your sister, or anyone else—I do not believe an officialreport is strictly necessary.  If, as head of ship security, however,you feel differently, you have my permission to—”

“No!”Tasha suddenly said, turning a little flustered again.  She swallowedonce more.  “No, I…I agree.  I don’t think this requires anofficial report.”

Datanodded.  “Very well.”

Aftera moment, Tasha moved out from behind his desk and started pacing. She ran a hand through her hair, clearly still unsettled by the whole experience.  “Jesus!”she said again, and then stopped to whirl on him.  “Why would yourbrother send you a sex tape?  Because you do realize that that’swhat this amounts to, right?”

Datahad, in fact, realized that.  He shook his head a little and furrowedhis brow.  “I do not know.  However, Lore has often shown himselfto be petty, vengeful, and competitive in the past.  I can onlyassume this is some attempt on his part to either engender jealousyin me or else demonstrate what he believes to be his superiority.”

Tashahuffed at his supposition.  “No offense, Data, but your brother’san ass.”

“Nonetaken, Tasha, rest assured.”  It was, he thought—after a quickreference to his internal dictionary—probably an apt descriptionfor Lore, anyway.

Shehuffed again and resumed her pacing.  “Ooh!”she erupted.  Distress seemed to be giving way to anger, because sheproceeded to say, “I know Starfleet and the Federation at largehave a dim view of revenge, but just onceit would be nice to turn the tables and give him a taste of his ownmedicine.”

Datalooked up the idioms in his data banks, thought about this, thenturned his attention to his computer console.  “I was able to tracethe signal origin to somewhere in the Harkoni Sector.  It is highlyunlikely a Federation vessel could get there in time, let alone findand apprehend Lore for his previous crimes, but,” he said, andquickly entered in some calculations, “it is possible that asubspace communication, broadcast toward the region, using a similarfrequency and encryption, could be detected and deciphered by him.”

Tashablinked, uncomprehending.

“Wehave the same sexual knowledge and abilities, he and I,” he pointedout.  The suggestion hovered in the air, unspoken.

Datadidn’t think it was possible for Tasha to turn any redder than shepreviously had, but there she went, surprising him yet again.

.

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Inother news, you might be wondering, “Just what’s up with Tashaand Ishara in this AU?  Like, what’s their relationship like?” Idk, my dudes—all I can say is that it probably isn’t very good(“complicated” at best, I suspect).  Similarly, did the events of“Legacy” happen in this timeline?  Again, I have no fucking clue(though it does seem Data must have met Ishara or at least seen apicture of her at some point, since he recognizes her).  Are Data andTasha banging on the reg in this universe, or is this the first timesex has come up between them since the polywater incident?  WasIshara a willing accomplice in Lore’s sex tape scheme, or did herecord the two of them without her knowledge?  Your guess is as goodas mine!  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#data soong #tasha yar #lore/ishara #datasha #lore soong #ishara yar #star trek #tng #data #lore #reply #fanfiction #i made a thing #fyi the entire time i was writing this i was just like ''jfc am i really writing this???'' and it turned out that yes #yes i was #''hey bro thought you might like this'' #aka the one where lore sends data a sex tape PFFFFT #lore you're such an ass #in other news even if this was different than what you had expected i hope you still liked it? ^^

[ciestessde]

Chapter 12

Ah. Finally we make it to this moment.

The moment I believe I've determined the most effective way of teaching you, Future Heir.

[Beginning]

Granted, it was only a couple of cycles. Almost nothing in the grand scheme of things, and it's not as though you are difficult or unpleasant to teach. But, after all the work I've gone through -- trying so many various teaching methods, seeing what material you remembered and which methods caused you to remember more -- just to make your transition to being the Keeper easier than my own?

Well, I couldn't have you wasting it, now could I!?

Therefore, I waited, and I tested, and now, as I have determined, I shall tell my advice in the form of a story. You seem fond of those, and you certainly seem to remember them remarkably well. And, just to be extra-certain that you'll remember this event, I shall use a more… intense tone to tell my tale.

… I certainly hope you remember enough that this will help you. Don't make all my efforts pointless, Future Heir! I shan't forgive you!

…

I'm sitting in my comfiest chair in my office. Only a few moments late, you come in and, wordlessly and without looking around at all, float toward the spot I normally have you sing from.

I interrupt your preparations, "No, no, we shan't be practicing today -- and no, we will not be going over theory. It's almost the Harvest, remember? I thought we could take the opportunity to rest. It's not as though you'll fall behind, haha!"

"... Alright. I'm not gonna say 'no' to that." Dropping your bag, you simply float down to sit on the ground.

"You know how I sometimes act as a storyteller?" "Of course I do. You're involved in ALL the arts, aren't you?" You remove a drink from your bag. "Ha! Yes, yes I am. Well, I have a story I'd like to share with you. About a place called the 'Crossroad of Infinity.'" Shrugging, you reply while opening the drink, "Alright. Sounds interesting, I guess."

I begin, in the most dramatic tone I can muster, "The Crossroad of Infinity is precisely what it sounds like: It is the meeting point between all other places, times, and… well, everything!"

I realize a potential hurdle mid-intro, so I cut-in with the question: "Have you ever heard anything about other dimensions? Other worlds?" You're removing one thing after another from your bag, "Yeah, of course. Like in fairytales, right?" some sort of pillow, "A kid falls into a volcano," a small snack, "but instead of ending up burning, they come UP and OUT of the volcano," a book -- which you glance at and put back in, "into some weird, mirror-world or whatever." "Precisely! Although, it's quite a bit more expansive than simple mirror-worlds. Every story you've ever heard -- that anyone anywhere has ever heard or thought of -- there's a matching world out there that coincides with it! Every variation of those stories, every alternate-ending you could dream up -- and everything you could never dream of in a million years! All of them!"

I've been getting more animated in my actions. You're staring at me. Is that good? …I hope so. "Okay… I think I get it."

Well. No stopping now. I keep up my animated tone, "However, only one spirit can exist within the Crossroad at a time. Only a single person can use the Crossroad to travel. This being is called the 'Keeper' of the Crossroad of Infinity." Finished pulling things out of your bag, you settle into a more comfortable position on the ground. "Now, because the Crossroad connects all timelines, it operates on a timeline of its own. One that can never cross itself. So no two Keepers can ever meet -- except when one dies and the other begins their journey." Like us right now. "This also means a Keeper can never return to a reality they died within. Such shenanigans are only possible while still alive within that same reality -- and only if the reality itself allows such things."

I pause. Your face is expressionless. "... Nope, you lost me." Alright, let's try: "A Keeper can't go back to a place they visited to, let's say, fix a mistake they made. They can't go to an earlier point in their own timeline -- nor can they live within the same world twice. BUT! If they found… a medallion that let them time-travel whilst they were still inside that reality? Then they could use it."

Your face is even more more blank than before. "O… kay…?" I'm sorry, Future Heir. But I can only explain certain things so well without you experiencing them yourself.

Nothing to do but continue on, really. "Now, quite often new worlds come with new laws of physics. So whenever a Keeper travels to a new world, a body is formed for them to suit these new physics. And it is always the approximate, equivalent age the Keeper was when they first connected to the Crossroad. Their original body, meanwhile, stays safe and sound back inside the Crossroad until they return--" "-- Aaarrreee we ever going to get to an actual story?"

Oh dear. You look so annoyed! "Haha, patience! I'm setting it up!" "Uuuugh! You always take so long to explain things, though!" "Hahahaha! I can't help it! You're so much fun to tease!" "Ugh! Just get on with it!"

"Alright, alright! Haha! "Well, because they lose the bodies they live in other worlds with, and because the Crossroad's timeline moves separately from all others, a Keeper's memories of each world are… summarized. If they weren't, the Keeper wouldn't retain any memory of what they experienced without overwhelming their original mind with the information." And oh dear… How much information it quickly becomes… "So when they come back, the extended, or complete, memories of their time in those worlds end up stored in some conspicuous item -- like a plant, for example. Or the fruit of one. And when the Keeper touches them, they can relive that old life in a matter of moments!

"And finally -- only one thing left before I can start the actual stories…" "..." Oh, that GLARE…! "..."

"... Just get on with it, already!" "Hahaha-! -Ehem." So CUTE! "...Well, the current Keeper of the Crossroad? Is me. And soon, you." Hm? Your look of confusion is gone. "... Oh, so this is one of those interactive stories."

Oh. Well, so long as you remember this, that is fine. Believe it is only a story.

Just remember the story, Future Heir.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mentor died soon after that. I'd like to say I mourned them, but… We never actually got all that close. However, that means everything from this point onward I can remember clearly, thanks to the memory crystal.

As for my newfound connection to the Crossroad -- I know I felt different after Mentor died. But I couldn't tell you how, since I have no clear memories from before that moment.

In that way, I might as well have always been connected to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#Crossroad Of Infinity #crossroadofinfinity #fantasy #sci-fi #dracula

[theconservativebrief]

On an alarmingly regular basis, Gwyneth Paltrow’s lifestyle company Goop publishes new morsels of health bullshit.

And as the Goop website has emerged as a reliably laughable source of pseudoscience, a small army of journalists (myself included), doctors, researchers, and bloggers has evolved to pounce on Goop’s claptrap as soon as it’s out. We explain why jade eggs for vaginas, $30 sex “dust,” and body stickers that “promote healing” are misleading drivel. In the best cases, we use Goop’s bunk to teach people about how actual science works. It’s practically a parasitic relationship.

Recently, though, I’ve been asking myself what impact all this debunking is having.

The first time I wrote about Paltrow’s health bullshit, and her “cleanse specialist” Alejandro Junger, was five years ago, in 2013. Two years later, the Alberta professor Tim Caulfield published his book Is Gwyneth Paltrow Wrong About Everything?, about the dangerous influence celebrities have on our decision-making. CNN, the Guardian, and Stephen Colbert have all weighed in. Over the years, OB-GYN and blogger Jen Gunter has spilled so much digital ink on Paltrow’s health shenanigans that she got Goop to issue its first-ever direct response to critics last summer.

In the time we’ve been debunking Paltrow, the stories and books pointing out the absurdity and potential harms of Goop’s claims have been widely read. It’s clear they resonate with certain readers.

But the Goop empire has also grown and expanded in influence. A recent New York Times profile of Paltrow, aptly titled, “How Goop’s Haters Made Gwyneth Paltrow’s Company Worth $250 Million,” confirmed that Paltrow courts controversy because it helps her wellness empire thrive.

So I set about to understand why Goop appears to be winning — and what impact, if any, critics have had on the brand.

Goop really sold these. And they really sold out.

Goop isn’t a public company, so we don’t know its precise revenue or how well it’s currently doing. But we do know that in 2016, Goop raised $15 million to $20 million in venture capital — a sign of the business’s strength. And Times journalist Taffy Brodesser-Akner reported that Goop is now worth $250 million, according to a source who knows the brand.

Over the past two years, the company has also expanded in a few key ways: It held its first health summits and launched a quarterly magazine, which will allow the brand to reach new and broader audiences.

Rather than being cowed by the debunkers, it seems Goop has been emboldened by us. In the Times, Brodesser-Akner confirmed that every time there’s blowback about some dubious vaginal maintenance routine or detox therapy featured on Goop, blogs, articles and tweets pop up in a cacophony of criticism. That creates what Paltrow called “cultural firestorms” that draw traffic to the site. “I can monetize those eyeballs,” Paltrow told a Harvard business class.

In a statement released last summer, Goop also disparaged critics like Gunter and doubled down on Goop’s “open-minded” world view: that people need alternative solutions for the health problems that ail them, such as “lectin-limited diets” — solutions the medical establishment has been too narrow-minded to see:

Where we have found our primary place is in addressing people, women in particular, who are tired of feeling less-than-great, who are looking for solutions — these women are not hypochondriacs, and they should not be dismissed or marginalized.

Harvard Business School brand analyst Jill Avery told me in 2017 this response may have indeed been a calculated move to strengthen their brand and draw their customers closer. “The segment of consumers who engage with Goop are interested in alternative, homeopathic remedies,” Avery said. “So, when Dr. Gunter challenges Goop, she challenges the ideological foundation of its consumers as well.”

What’s more, Avery said, the Goop response evokes “themes from feminism, Eastern medicines and philosophies, and anti-establishment politics to incite [Paltrow’s] consumers to action: to make them feel as if they are under attack, to reassure them that their ideology will be supported by Goop, and to arm them with arguments to help them defend themselves.”

To be sure, Goop has tapped into a real longing out there. Traditional medicine has failed people in many cases, and often lacks solutions for the most common health woes — chronic pain, obesity, Alzheimer’s. You need not look any further than the raging opioid epidemic to find cases where medicine has also done more harm than good.

But as Tim Caulfield told me, that doesn’t make it okay to throw away the scientific paradigm and accept any junk claim that comes along. “The idea that somehow science doesn’t have all the answers, science isn’t necessarily a morally good force, displays a misunderstanding of what science is. It’s not an ideology, not an industry, it’s not people. It’s a process.” Yes, pharmaceutical companies and doctors have sometimes done horrible things. But that doesn’t make the scientific method any less valuable; it means we need to strengthen it.

Still, wouldn’t the negative press surrounding Goop’s health claims have made some dent in their business? Avery doesn’t think so. “The old adage ‘no news is bad news’ comes to mind here,” she said.

I also posed this question to Larry Light, author of Six Rules for Brand Revitalization and the chief executive of the brand consulting company Arcature. “You can’t attack a belief with facts,” he reminded me. He agreed the Goop debunking would only galvanize its fans and thought that Paltrow’s new summits and magazine would further expand the Goop cult and deepen its members’ beliefs.

All this doesn’t mean, however, that calling out the Goopshit has been in vain.

We debunkers have probably helped inform and equip the public with sound health information, even if we’ve failed to convince Goop fans. This has been a fascinating chapter in the ongoing public debate about alternative medicine and health. But this episode is also an opportunity to think more about how to tilt the balance toward evidence-based thinking and away from Goopshit.

I once asked a group of doctors and health researchers for their advice on the best practices for fighting “fake news” and misinformation, since these problems are nothing new in the medical world.

Some of these health professionals came around to a belief I am now wholeheartedly convinced of: The best way to stop bogus health claims from taking off is to teach people how to think critically about the information they receive from a very early age.

Researchers from Europe and Africa recently worked to develop curricula — a cartoon-filled textbook, lessons plans — on critical thinking skills aimed at schoolchildren. In 2016, they tested the materials in a big trial involving 15,000 schoolchildren from Uganda’s central region.

The results of the trial were published in the Lancet last May, and showed a remarkable rate of success: Kids who were taught basic concepts of how to think critically about health claims massively outperformed children in a control group.

This work, from a group of evidence-minded research nerds, is the closest thing we have to a recipe book for how to prevent health bunk from spreading in the first place: Instead of trying to change people’s beliefs with facts, we need to teach them to call bullshit on pseudoscience drivel in the first place.

I’m a journalist, not an educator or policymaker. But for the educators and policymakers reading this, please take a hard look at your school curricula and the critical thinking skills they offer. It may be too late to dent Paltrow’s brand among her acolytes, but you might be able to stop the next Goop train from taking off.

Original Source -> Is Gwyneth Paltrow’s Goop pseudoscience winning?

via The Conservative Brief

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