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capucapo · 1 year ago

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( chatlog from my discord RP with @nameless-brand , based on the alternate version of the Legendary Heroes VR game created by the Kaiba Corporation in Sato, Lev, and Chi's current universe. a few sections have been moved around slightly just to make things flow a little better part 1 )

Legendary Heroes: the Tutorial (part 2)

Once the helmet was put on, the next blink would bring Mokuba into the Avatar space, a deep blue infinite expanse spackled with hovering pale yellow strings of data. There's a sensation of feeling as though one were in a lucid dream - that at any moment, one could simply wake up in the real world if one chose to.

The ALTIMIT OS would slowly come into view as pale orange windows orbiting around Mokuba. The same sidebar would come into view, except instead of "The World" icon, it is now "Legendary Heroes" instead. An attempt to move around and poke around with the buttons would feel somewhat off like one's finger not quite touching where it was supposed to - as if one's limb were shorter than it was supposed to be.

That feeling of discoordination applies for any sort of motion including walking around or just simply moving in place.

Still, the senses being conveyed through the system seem to work fine, including the sensation of touch - touching one of the floating windows felt like touching one of the Duel Disk holograms.

[ Cannot connect to KC-ALTIMIT Server. Using default native assistant: Morganna. ]

[ The default assistant has been chosen. You may switch to the other two at any time. ]

A feminine voice rings out through the Avatar Space.

>> Welcome to the ALTIMIT's Avatar space. I am the assistant Morganna. Please note that my capabilities are limited without an internet connection, but I will try to answer any questions that you may have.

>> Your brainwave signature has been registered. You may use this to log in to ALTIMIT OS next time.

>> Welcome to the Avatar Space. As a first-time user, we will now synchronize your mind with your avatar body. A tingling sensation during this phase is perfectly normal. Are you ready?

It definitely takes Mokuba a few seconds to get his barings as he enters this new VR World. He blinks as he looks around himself, taking in the blue void. Stretches a hand out in front of himself to flex his fingers as the OS comes into focus around him.

It isn't as sophisticated as Noa's Virtual World, where everything felt almost painfully real. No, there's an obvious disconnect, some lucid feeling he recognized vaguely from his brother's own Legendary Heroes.

He takes a few steps, noticing the slight discoordination, and can't help but scoff to himself. Of course Gouzaburo's version would be inferior.

The voice catches his attention, and he can't help but admit he's relieved to not recognize it. He won't even ask about the other two options. Unfortunate that the system's functions are limited without an internet connection, but he'd kind of counted on that one.

He takes a deep, virtual breath.

"yeah, uh. I'm ready," he lies.

The System grossly understated the tingling sensation; it was more like accidentally getting zapped by static but all over. Just as quickly as the sensation arrives, it goes away. The following messages pop up during the brief message.

[[ Nerve Impulse Calculation... complete ]]

[[ Body-Limb Length Calculations...complete. ]]

[[ Sensory Linkage...calculating...complete. ]]

[[ Warning: **Subject has High Synchronization.** ]]

[[ Biofeedback Limiters engaged. You may change this in the Settings. ]]

[[ Calibrating... ]]

The surroundings become vivid as though a picture is now in focus. The colors seem brighter, the world sharper. Even the fake breaths Mokuba took now would feel like there's actual substance to it. Furthermore, that feeling of discoordination would vanish completely, leaving behind an avatar body that moves and acts just as well as the real thing.

The lucid dream feeling however becomes more definite as if the System is deliberately emphasizing the boundary between the Virtual and the Real.

>> "You are now Synchronized. Please note that Synchronization data will be... "

The virtual assistant quickly says many words but ultimately most of it is just legalese that KaibaCorp will be using the Synchronization data purely for making better calibration in the future.

>> "You have completed the Calibration process. Please test your movement to see if everything is working properly."

>> "If you have any questions, feel free to ask."

While Mokuba had braced himself for the "tingle," the reality of the feeling makes him gasp. But luckily, the sensation doesn't last long, the pain quickly dissipating. Still, it doesn't do much to calm his nerves.

Biofeedback Limiters? That may be something to look into. He makes a mental note.

But as the system calibrates, he has to begrudgingly take back his previous skepticism. He moves his fingers again, takes a few steps around, and notices this time there's no discoordination. Still, the lucid feeling hangs as a reminder this isn't reality.

Good.

"thanks uhh... morganna? real quick. how do I like, leave here? just kinda want to... know all my options there."

The system does not comment as Mokuba experiments with his movement, though the vague white noise - a sensation more felt than heard really - persists, marking its presence.

It does not respond immediately, taking a second as if processing. When it does respond, it does so from a translucent window opening in front of Mokuba and speaking through there.

"To disconnect from the Avatar Space, all you need to do is to Wake Up."

"If you are finding it difficult to do so, you can also select Log Out from the Menu, accessed by thinking about it."

Mokuba mmms quietly to himself. That sounds straightforward enough, but there's still the lingering fear of being trapped by this mysterious program.

He's not quite ready to leave yet, he's just begun his exploration after all. But he does think about the Menu, wondering what other options he may find as well.

The Menu opens as a floating translucent screen in front of Mokuba:

>> Legendary Heroes

>> Mailer

>> Accessories

>> Audio

>> Data

>> Settings

>> Log Out

The floating, visible menu is a nice touch and, admittedly, does help to calm Mokuba's nerves slightly. Seeing the very clear option to Log Out displayed gives him hope. Maybe this is just a normal Virtual Reality game after all.

He'll reach out to press the Setting option next.

The Settings reveals a variety of options:

>> Audio

>> Accessibility Options

>> Biofeedback

>> Quality of Life

>> Alarms

>> Connectivity

>> Recalibrate

Oh interesting! The first two seem pretty straightforward, so Mokuba will pick Biofeedback first

The Biofeedback Option reveals the following:

>> Pain Dampening

>> Sensory Link

>> Immersion

>> Time Perception

Oh. As he looks over those options, suddenly he feels nervous. Maybe it isn't such a good idea to mess with these settings yet after all.

Though...

He does select the last one, Time Perception. Mostly out of curiosity for the default.

The Time Perception setting opens up to a slider that is grayed out.

Time Perception: 100% of normal.

The bars appear to only go to -50% and +50% max of normal.

>> Note that Time Perception is the ratio between Virtual Time and Real Time. To adjust what is known as Bullet-Time settings, please refer to Sensory Link.

>> Note that this setting is only available while connected to the KCAltimit servers.

Very good to know, at least he won't accidentally spend days in here. He won't try to mess with the inaccessible settings, returning to the main menu. Part of him wants to take this exploration slowly, to check out each and every setting before jumping into anything.

Another part is already growing bored, itching to get to the game already. He chews at his lip as he decides what to do next, before finally...

"fuck it," he sighs and presses Legendary Heroes.

Upon pressing the Legendary Heroes button, the entire Avatar Space seems to fade seamlessly into darkness. From underneath Mokuba's feet, a large city shrouded by the night comes into view. What was immediately noticeable was the tall stone wall that surrounded it and the completely leveled area that separated it from the broken suburbia.

The leveled area's purpose quickly becomes obvious as mutated creatures approaching from the outside charge and rush on over, vaguely resembling the animals that used to be: rats, raccoons, birds, etc. Many of them even spouted flames and ice as they tried to attack the wall.

Retaliation from the city is almost immediate. Gunfire flashes from the tall wall along with an assortment of elemental projectiles that detonate explosively on the battlefield. The battle continues on for several seconds before everything fades gently into black.

A window slowly appears before Mokuba.

[ Welcome to Legendary Heroes, the world's first Full Immersion Survival and Conquest MMORPG. ]

[ Please note that there will be limited functionality without an online connection. ]

[ You may still create a character that can be loaded into the server and go through the tutorial that will teach you how to play. Please note that you may only have one character active at any one time. ]

An image of Mokuba could be seen before him in military garb: flaks, bandolier, and all. There are character sliders that modify the person's facial and body traits along with an assortment of eye and hair color options.

What was noticeable was that one could only change height 90-110% with the reasoning that it may mess with synchronization. It specifically states that height changes are not recommended, and the character cannot be changed after login.

It also states that a username cannot be chosen until he connects.

Mokuba's heart skips a beat as the scene changes. There's still that lingering fear of being trapped, but he takes a deep (virtual) breath as the city appears. He watches the scene play out before him, the creatures gunned down.

Yeah. This is a little different from the Legendary Heroes game his brother had made.

He quickly reads through the window that appears. He might have to connect to the internet eventually, but for now the limited gameplay is fine.

But he frowns as he faces himself as the character creation begins. The drab uniform and martial accessories look out of place on him, and an uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of his stomach.

"there better be other outfits," he gumbles to himself as he selects a brighter purple for his eyes and begins flipping through some of the hairstyles. "is there like, a girl option? for clothes?? is it cuter???"

Morganna's voice pops in briefly upon Mokuba's complaints about the unsuited clothes.

"Military garb is the default for starting characters as this style is the most popular among beta-testers. Civilian clothing is available under the databases, though most do not provide stat bonuses like the military garb does."

Additional clothing is made available, though they are clearly more region-specific. A variety of kimono, yukata, and furisodes are provided, though there's only a single western dress in the whole collection. There's also two skirts, red and gray, out of the whole collection. The hair changes are quickly implemented as visual changes to the hair itself, lengthening and shortening as Mokuba sees fit. Same goes with the eye color. Several notifications pop up after Morganna spoke about the clothing.

< A connection to the Server has been detected. Would you like to create an account name now? >

< A connection to the Server has been detected. Would you like to choose a Class now? >

< Do you have a preference for supernatural abilities, firearms, or melee? >

"well that's DUMB, people shouldn't have to dress ugly just to be competitive," he continues to complain. Though, as the extra options become available to him, he can't help but be a little pleasantly surprised. Not by the options themselves, the limited wardrobe causes him to make an exaggerated gagging sound. But that Gouzaburo hadn't blocked the ability to dress against one's sex. For a moment, he wonders if he could change that setting too, but it's more of a passing curiosity that he quickly moves on from.

He'll select the red skirt, rolling the waist band until satisfied with the length-- or lack thereof. Then, a white, short-sleeve button up shirt. Topped off with a male furisode, worn open over the bandolier. Puts his hair up into a high ponytail, and finally nods to himself.

"that's fine for now.... but there better be unlockables or something--" he continues to gripe, only to be cut off by the new pop-ups.

And once again, his anxiety spikes.

He swallows thickly. A connection to the server shouldn't be possible. The laptop he's installed the OS on wasn't connected to the internet. Shouldn't have been able to connect itself without manually inputting the security key.

He hesitates for a moment, before continuing.

>> Yes.

>> Supernatural Abilities

"I do not have an opinion on that,"

Morganna says generically as it observes Mokuba and his new look. It then adds in

"There are no unlockables. You are able to scavenge clothes from the department stores that still remain in parts of the fallen cities. It is expected that there will be clothing designers in the future as the game progresses."

"Your heart rate has spiked. Is there something wrong? Please note that if you wish to disable biometric alerts, you may disable them in the Alarms section."

< Choose a username. Please note a unique number identifier may be addended at the end as a hashtag that will only be visible to those looking at your dossier. You may not use forbidden keywords such as Admin, KaibaCorp, ALTIMIT, or Moderator. >

It's a bit disappointing to hear there's no unlockables, but at least there may be other options later on in some form or another. For now, he's satisfied enough with his appearance.

"uhhh no. no it's fine, I just didn't expect to go online, uh...." he hesitates. "..is my username gonna be what people call me, or do I get a separate nickname too?" he changes the subject.

"Connectivity issues are usually a host-side issue. Please run diagnostics on your hardware or contact your ISP to solve the issues,"

said Morganna unhelpfully.

"Your username will be what people will primarily call you, though if you achieve a high enough level of fame or infamy, you will be able to gain a unique Title / Moniker for yourself. I hope this answers your question."

"gee, thanks," Mokuba huffs sarcastically with a roll of his now brighter amethyst eyes. He wonders for a second, if this game is going to give him an indetifier anyway, can he just use his name?

He'll try that first and input simply, "Mokuba". In romaji, however, not the kanji he uses officially.

< Welcome to Legendary Heroes, Mokuba. On behalf of KaibaCorp and ALTIMIT, we hope you enjoy the VR experience. >

The name is seemingly accepted without any other changes.

He is pleasantly surprised that worked! Good. His usual screen names are fine and good, but he'd rather just be known as himself.

< The following Starting supernatural abilities are as follows: You may choose two. >

< Fire Arrow >

< Wind Blade >

< Summon Golem >

< Ice Shard >

< Enhanced Strength >

< Juggernaut >

< Healing >

< Specializing in Supernatural Abilities means you will be reliant on gathering Crystals from Monsters for both improving your abilities and to keep your Psyche up. You receive growth bonuses to Psyche, Intelligence, and Wisdom and penalized in Strength, Dexterity, Health, and Stamina. (Unless you've chosen the respective starting supernatural abilities for those penalties). >

Hearing the penalties almost makes him reconsider his choice, but the alternatives feel like a weight in his chest. Sure, he usually likes shooting games. But those games aren't usually directly glorifying his warmongering adoptive father. He chooses Summon Golem and Fire Arrow.

< You have acquired Summon Golem. >

< You have acquired Fire Arrow. >

Hopefully, the ability to summon a powerful golem will make up for his loss in Strength.

< You may wield your abilities by utilizing a hand gesture or thought to trigger them. Note that a thought-triggered ability will have all stats halved.

A video displays Fire Arrow: The hand opens up with all fingers out, followed by a twist of the wrist, and two fingers pointing upwards. The Fire Arrow blooms from the tip of the fingers, which can be thrown at the target.

A video displays Summon Golem: The hand is clenched in a tight fist, followed by slamming one's open palm into the ground. Contrary to Mokuba's expectation, the Golem that appears is not particularly mighty-looking. It is probably half of Mokuba's height and is completely featureless aside from looking humanoid. It appears to attract attention mostly as a decoy rather than being a mighty tank.

He makes a note of that tip. Then, he mimics the motions shown by the video displayed to him, several times each. Nods definitively to himself. That's easy enough.

The Golem however is...... Disappointing. He frowns as the small figure appears. He'd been hoping for something more like the Minecraft mob, at least... But his decision is already made.

Immediately, a table full of firearms and melee weapons slides in from out of nowhere, hovering beneath Mokuba's hands. They all seem rather generic, not tied to a specific brand of weapon. A shotgun, a pistol, a rifle, a submachine gun, etc. The melee weapons on the other hand range from a baseball bat, a katana, a knife, a sledgehammer, a crowbar - and then some exotic ones like nun-chucks, a morningstar, and a guandao.

< Please note that the heavier the weapon, the greater the penalty to your movement. >

< Weapon stats are available for each specific weapon and can be analyzed with the < Observe > ability. >

As the weapons appear, the reluctancy of his Class choice fades further. So he can still use these too! Excellent.

He knows the larger guns probably won't suit him. And that's fine. He'll Observe the Pistol first.

< Pistol :: Damage 3, Fire Rate: 2, Accuracy: High, Recoil: Low, Ammo: 13.

The ASATI Pistol is the standard sidearm of the New World. Made from the few industrial factories that still remain, the pistol boasts high durability and does not malfunction even after being submerged in water, covered in sand, or smashed by a sledgehammer. Its durability however is offset by its reduced stats aside from its accuracy. >

That's alright with him. He figures that his limited strength will likely interfere with the other firearms, but he'll Observe them anyway just to be sure.

The other weapons display a similar flavor text, mentioning where they came from and their high durability and their poorer performance compared to other non-ASATI weapons. The main weapons that Mokuba cannot use are the rocket launchers and large machine guns, which are solely reserved for military specialists.

< Shotgun: Damage 2 (x 5), Fire Rate: 2, Accuracy: Low, Recoil: High, Ammo: 1 >

< Hunting Rifle: Damage 6, Fire Rate 1, Accuracy: High, Recoil: High, Ammo: 7 >

< Submachine Gun: Damage 3, Fire Rate:5, Accuracy: Low, Recoil: High, Ammo: 20 >

< Revolver: Damage 6, Fire Rate: 2, Fire Rate: 2, Accuracy: High, Recoil: High, Ammo: 6 >

< The Hunting Rifle applies penalties to movement when carried as you do not have the Strength stat to effortlessly support it. >

< All ranged weapons come with three ammo reloads. Please remember that ammo and food counts against your weight limit. >

The small golem doesn't seem to react to Mokuba's frown. Instead, it simply stands there as if waiting for a command.

Mokuba mmms to himself as he looks over the options, finally deciding to go with his first choice after all. Then moves to Observe the melee weapons next.

Though, that last tip makes him groan. "what kind of asshole devs came up with that genius idea? weight limits are dumb enough already."

Gives a glance to the little golem and, "uhhh.... do I like... dismiss you or something? are you just like... here now??"

Unfortunately, said assholes Devs have also implemented another bad idea, reflected by the new omnipresent stat seen on the melee weapons.

< Dagger: Damage 3, Bonuses to Sneak/Surprise, Durability 60/60 >

< Katana: Damage 7, Durability 100/100 >

< Sledgehammer: Damage 13, only at the Hammer's Head. Penalties to movement. Durability 60/60 >

< Guandao: Damage 10. Can only be wielded by Melee Specialist. Durability 100/100>

< Crowbar: Damage 4, Can efficently pry open doors with minimal durability loss, Durability 70/70 >

< Bat (Wooden): Damage 3, Durability 50/50>

< Note that all guns have Durability 100/100. As Durability goes down through usage, it loses 20% * Percentage of Durability Loss. If Durability reaches zero, the weapon becomes unusuable and/or destroyed. Weapon maintenance can restore Durability at the expense of Maximum Durability. >

The little golem gives a simple shrug, not quite sure either.

Oh yeah, Mokuba's going to groan audibly at that. So far, his opinions of this game aren't great-- though admittedly, he does have his bias.

He takes a few moments to consider his options, as well as their bonuses. The crowbar's utility makes it an attractive choice. On the other hand, he can't help but think the katana would really complete his outfit. And he isn't sure how seriously he wants to take this game, either....

He looks to the golem. "what do you think, lil guy? katana or crowbar?"

When prompted, the small golem adopts a thinking pose briefly before pointing at the Katana. Whatever its logic for choosing the weapon is anyone's guess though. It gives a shrug as if to indicate the choice is still its summoner's.

Mokuba nods in agreement. "yeah, that's what I was thinking. the crowbar's kinda ugly," he says as he chooses the blade.

The small golem mimics Mokuba by simply nodding in agreement.

"You have completed Character Creation. Are you sure you wish to keep your selection? Remember that this cannot be changed once you confirm."

For a second, Mokuba's gaze lingers on the little golem. Yeah, he's cute. But if he only gets two spells, maybe he should he consider something a little more..... useful? He sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth.

"....yeah. yeah, I'm good."

< Your destination will be Neo Toky-. >.

A brief burst of visual static suddenly fills the Avatar Space, followed by a strange tone, before it calms down once again.

< Neo Tokyo is currently saturated with newcomers. >

< Your new destination will be Outskirts: Lake Alba. >

< Welcome to Legendary Heroes. >

#ooc #ic action #not visible ic #Legendary Heroes #rp #drabbles #this one's a little longer but it's character creation time babey !!!#nameless brand

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dmagedgoods · 2 years ago

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1 and 8 (we already know the answers, but if you want to expand on them, I won’t mind)

1. What mythic path(s) did your KC take, and why? Salvadore chose the Angel path and while I was worried at first if it would fit him, it turned out utterly perfect for him. – Not in the most classical of ways and he’s far from the archetype this path probably aims for, but because it allows enough freedom for him to turn it and its connected powers (in terms of influence too) into something he can embody fully in a manner that is very him. He uses what the Angel path gives to underline his own goals and the more positive of his natural traits instead of changing in it and that’s what I cherished most about this path: It allows latitude to be interpreted and played within a spectrum. Sal doesn’t have to become a second Hand of the Inheritor. He stays his flawed, highly arrogant self, cold in his demeanor to most around him (with strong hidden passion, but this only gets obvious in emotional moments), too used to his privileges as noble sometimes, power-hungry (though never for mainly selfish reasons, but because he follows a vision of improvement and goodness), condescending every once in a while, intensely prideful, with a cruel streak towards the enemies that harm or threaten him on a personal level. Angel path leaves room for it. Of course, all of this only works in it because he has many traits that fit in the picture too: He’s lawful good (balancing the edge to neutral good sometimes, depending on the interpretation of lawful and what it involves), has a strict personal code of principles, is highly disciplined, hardworking, loyal, caring underneath it all, true to his word, and ambitious. Furthermore, the Angel path comes with symbolism that fits him greatly, the light, the wings, the holy savior theme. Yes, Salvadore enjoyed this a little too much, despite wanting to be loved and feared for his own accomplishments only, he willingly bathed in the natural respect and awe his powers caused. – So much that the only thing I would add to the path is a moment of actual weakness and failure. It’s hard to tame his oversized ego when he succeeds so easily. 😂 (Fun fact: The Aeon on the market square and their mission captured his interest even more than the radiant sword in the beginning (and he loved the glowing sword a lot as well and showing it off and feeling like some kind of chosen one). Therefore, Salvadore almost would have gone for Aeon path. But I realized quickly that it was not for him. When the mirror asked him to give the oath, it involved the words “I swear not to rule but to judge” and ironically his own strict set of rules would never allow him to vow something that’s so wrong and against his very nature. Salvadore is made to rule, to aim for power in an attempt to better the world – with him high on top, because he views himself as the best one for the demanding task of leading. This can go very right or very wrong of course, with him staying true to his principles or drifting into lawful evil should he fail for some reason. (It’s a different topic but maybe connected to this one thing I’d change about Angel path: If there was a moment of failure it could involve an option to fall resulting from it, the possibility to get corrupted.) Anyway, I realized, Salvadore is not an Aeon. I sadly waved the black and white banner goodbye that would have suited his aesthetic so nicely and started over, this time going for Angel with him. And I never regretted it.) 8. Who did your KC romance, if anyone? Daeran. Salvadore was drawn to Daeran from the very first meeting. – Maybe because he didn’t take him too seriously in what he said during this first time, was mostly amused by his show, enjoyed his eloquence and dark humor, and strongly questioned how genuinely he meant any of his statements. He seemed more like a very smart jester to him, using his words to find the weaknesses of others deliberately, but ultimately, it’s just this: words, a performance used to criticise society and the shortcomings of those around him in provoking and sometimes shocking ways. Salvadore likes this a lot, it strongly speaks to him and that’s one of the reasons they had a connection immediately (aside from their backgrounds as nobles and similarities regarding their hobbies), he just joined with teasing of his own. There aren’t many who bring out this side of him. Daeran and Salvadore work greatly together, he combines almost anything he admires and cherishes connected to some traits he urgently needs in his life without fully realizing it before he met him. Anyway, I’m moving away from the topic and I wrote about those two so much and will do so in the future as well. 🥰

Aside from Salvadore’s and Daeran’s chemistry and even if I look at the romance without any specific Knight Commander in the picture at all: It’s by far the best video game romance I ever played, one of the best romances in media I ever encountered in general. Beautifully written, with the perfect combination of uniqueness and well-aimed tropes, highly emotional, challenging but intuitive, the pacing neither too slow nor too fast, believable, adding to Daeran’s arc and to the story itself. 100/10, and even after all this time I still have the urge to thank the writers for this masterpiece.

#pathfinder wotr #pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #daeran #daeran arendae #knight commander salvadore #oc: salvadore #my ocs #dmagedtexts #thank you so much for the ask!#❤️#and sorry I'm so slow #it's such a busy week #;;

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madcatdaderpydrawer-blog · 2 years ago

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For some reason, my brain has been categorizing TF Lunar’s “stages” so to speak like the evolution line of a pokemon. So I’ll explain it that way.

First stage TF Lunar is the one that looks basically the same as my normal Lunar design, with different eyes and more faded colors. This period of time includes his creation up until the time he is locked away by Moon after Eclipses defeat. He’s still hopeful about his relationship with Sun, Moon, and Monty, until the inevitable heart break from being abandoned. It also includes the KC situation, and ends just around the time he’s finally removed from Moons mind by Monty.

Second stage TF Lunar has a body, one made of nanomachines, so he looks a bit different. His skin is a darker grey and his hoody is slightly ragged and torn up as well as his pants. He’s dirty and cacked in blood. This is the only form of TF Lunar I haven’t drawn yet, but I may. He’s very quiet and forlorne as well as insanely touch starved but has somewhat accepted his use to them is merely to help do the dirty work they don’t want to do. He’s still desperate enough to be accepted that he will take any chance at friendship he can find though.

Here’s where it splits up, kind of like how certain conditions cause a pokemon to involve into a certain form.

If he in some way gains a support group of family, usually from another dimension that has decided to adopt him such as Tiny Lunar, the next form is New Moon form which I have drawn before, or Nee-nee for short. He’s still very self conscious but he’s recovering from the past. It’s not easy, but he’s trying and that’s what counts.

But if no one else gets involved and he remains alone, he turns into Lord Night. Gaining access of the star, he uses it to wipe out the entire world and plunge it into an eternal abyss. Friends and family are no longer something he seeks out, and he is emotionally closed off and cold most of the time. He has major trust issues and is determined not to let himself get hurt again, even if that means he stays alone forever. There is no more warmth left in his soul, he is just a frigid shell of a person. Of course this is before encountering any other dimensional people.

#sams au #trapped forever au #sun and moon show #sun and moon show lunar

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year ago

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"Visited Venus, Too: 'Man of Mars' Guilty Of Attack on Woman," Vancouver Sun. October 7, 1943. Page 1. --- Vancouver's "man from Mars," Frederick Hathaway, came to earth with a thud Wednesday night when he heard a jury of nine men and three women convict him of indecent assault.

The 43-year-old lecturer, who calls himself doctor of philosophy and cosmic science by virtue of a correspondence degree from the "University of Lahore" in India and terms himself "Jair III," was remanded by Chief Justice Wendell Farris for sentence at the end of the Assizes.

From the witness box, Hathaway told of visits to other planets - spiritually, of course.

On Venus he said he saw barkless trees 1000 feet high and as thick as Granville Street. The people there are about two feet high, pleasant, very friendly but he could not understand their language.

STOP AND GO MEN The trees on Mars, however, were small and the population consisted of hostile red and green men, Hathaway said.

He claimed to have been to Saturn and Neptune, too, and that anyone can travel to another planet if they go about it seriously in meditation and prayer.

He denied vehemently that he told Mrs. Lillian Purvis, 2446 West Fourth, that she should have intimate relations with him in order to get to another plane; that they could go there together but that she could not go alone.

He said he took Mrs. Purvis to be an honest seeker after truth and enlightenment and she aroused no feeling of affection in him.

Before the encounter was over, however, he suspected that she was an investigator.

HOROSCOPE WENT BLOOEY Mrs. Purvis had testified earlier in the trial that Hathaway invited her to remain after the second lecture she attended April 14 in his Aryan Astrological Occult Church of Christ, 2700 block Oak, and that he attempted to force attentions on her which he claimed would advance her in cosmic science.

She said she managed to break away, telling him it was a beastly thing to do under the guise of religion, and left with Hathaway apologizing and begging her to come to another lecture.

After his arrest, according to Inspector A. S. Rae and Detective William Harrington, the accused admitted asking Mrs. Purvis to stay and he would read her horoscope but that "in the middle of the scene she changed her mind and ran out of the hall, calling him names," that he apologized and wanted to drive her home.

There are many masters of the Great White Lodge, including Christ, and he has seen about 20 of them, Hathaway told Prosecutor Dugald Donaghy, KC.

"That's all, Doctor Hathaway," replied Mr. Donaghy.

The Chief Justice then asked the accused what kind of a doctor he was and Hathaway said philosophy and cosmic science, producing what he said was a degree obtained by correspondence from the University of Lahore in India.

"I did not pay anything for it. Just like a lawyer getting a KC," he explained.

"WONDERFUL WORLD" "Wonderful world, isn't it," remarked the prosecutor and the accused agreed that it is.

Miss Sarah Mary Ann Springer held the Bible between her two hands as she took the oath and swore that the accused was a Godly man and had never mentioned sex during the four years she had attended his classes.

Three other AAOCC followers were called as character witnesses by G. V. Pelton, at whose request the trial was open to the public.

"It takes courage for a woman to report to the authorities that she has been attacked by a man," Mr. Donaghy told the jury as he reviewed the evidence of Mrs. Purvis.

The jury retired at 7:20 p.m., after a 55-minute charge by the Chief Justice, and they returned at 9:30 with a verdict of guilty, less than five minutes after they had read to them the evidence of Detective Harrington.

#vancouver #assize court #indecent assault #fraud artists #new age mystics #quackery #cosmic science #seance #astral voyager #canada during world war 2 #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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honestgrins · 4 years ago

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Hi I have a propt for u if u want , I just want to read a kc fic where caroline is a badass but mature and she puts hayley in her place and gives klaus shit for sleeping w her but not the whole baby thing she is not pregnant more like a alpha wannabe write it IF u want and like the idea if u dont want is ok thank u , tho its just my first birthday alone and I want sth special its kinda selfish but pls write even sth small ill be grateful thanks.

Petty

Elijah poured himself another cup of tea, politely ignoring the crash of furniture coming from upstairs. “Miss Forbes,” he offered, holding the kettle toward her.

Too busy poring over the textbook open beside her breakfast, Caroline gave a small grin of apology without looking at him. “I’m more of a coffee girl, thanks.”

Glass shattered somewhere above them. “Perhaps some blood, then? I believe it will be a trying day. Best keep up your strength.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I think I could pass a freshman bio test while hallucinating from a wolf bite. I’ll be fine.”

He arched a brow, barely stifling his amusement. “I meant—”

Sighing, she finally met his intent gaze with exasperation. “I know what you meant, I just don’t have time to indulge his mood swings. Part of the deal of me living here is that I get to maintain a normal college experience, regardless of whatever world domination he has in mind.” Another crash of splintered wood broke her train of though, and she grimaced at the ceiling. “Or when things don’t go to plan. Why do vampires even keep wood in the house? Sure, you guys can’t exactly die as easily, but it seems impractical.”

“Noted,” Elijah said, just as Hayley stomped into the dining room and helped herself to the spread they’d barely touched. As she bit into a scone, he offered her a cup of tea as well with a concerned eye to her visible pregnancy. “I assume the meeting didn’t go well.”

“Your brother is an ass,” she snapped, frustrated. “Apparently, marrying the father of my child is an affront to his ego.”

Caroline groaned, slamming her book shut. “Oh, please. I’m as tired of his power trips as the next person, but we all know you and Jackson getting hitched bolsters your claim to lead the pack. Kind of goes against the agreement to live and let live without declaring a winner to the alpha war you guys are having, don’t you think?”

Hayley rolled her eyes. “Of course, you’d take his side.”

Glaring at the ceiling again, she forced her fangs to stay tucked away. “I’m so tired of this damn town. How’s anyone supposed to study when everyone is bickering over fake hierarchies?” With her enhanced hearing, she caught the offended huff coming from the studio. Letting out a slow breath, she gave her best fake smile to Hayley, then a more aggrieved expression to Elijah. “Please excuse me, I have a hybrid to admonish for petty disruptions.”

When she made it up to his studio, however, she was the one with her back pressed to the door. “A petty disruption, am I?” Klaus asked, his lips a distracting inch from hers as he pushed into her space. “Pray tell, sweetheart, the sins for which I need admonishment.”

With a sharp grin, her hand dug into his hair and tugged, baring his throat to her teeth. “I have a test in two hours and no patience for your tantrums over Hayley.” Her fangs tested the edge of his jaw, and she mused, “Unless it’s not about the pack at all.”

Klaus pulled back at that, brows knit as his eyes couldn’t leave her mouth. “Caroline—”

“You’re not just acting out of jealousy, are you?” she asked, trailing her lips up to his ear. “Did you want to be the one to knock her up, claim their little wolf dynasty for your own?” She shoved him back then, her stare hard as he glared. Worse, he looked a bit scared. A bit of tough love was in order, but she didn’t mean to make him question her. Speaking more gently, she leaned back against the door to show she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. “I get it, it sucks that New Orleans and all the vampires, witches, and wolves won’t fall in line behind you.”

“They’re not even trying,” he complained, running a hand through his mussed hair. “And now, she—”

“Hey.” Putting her hand up, Caroline refused to up with the pity party any longer. “You’re the one who told her about the Crescent pack and its likely connection to her, which you noticed at time she clearly didn’t bother you so much.” They both winced at the reminder of his tryst with the wolf, a past that couldn’t be buried back in Mystic Falls as easily as they’d like. “You break it, you buy it, and all that. Can’t we just...move on with our lives? Maybe have some fun while we’re at it? Without the supernatural warfare, preferably.”

His head tilted to the side, and she saw the predatory glint in his eyes half a second too late. Before she could argue, he lifted her into his arms and had her pressed against the door once more. “Now,” he said, his voice low through his fangs as he brushed his nose along hers, “where’s the fun in that?”

She kissed him with bruising force, tugging his lip with her own fangs. “You have one hour,” she warned, working his shirt out of his jeans. She tore it, though, at his challenging expression. “I mean it, Klaus, or else I will find somewhere else to live. Someplace with fewer distractions.” Her nails dug into his sides to emphasize her point. “My study schedule has been ruined enough.”

“Not quite,” he smirked, “but an hour will have to do.”

“For the time being,” she agreed, laughing when he lifted her back into his arms to carry her toward the lone sofa not destroyed.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #to rely on the kindness of strangers #fic: petty #thanks for the prompt!#happy birthday lovely!#i hope this helps make your day special #anon anon

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ardent-musings · 4 years ago

Text

Sleazeballs and Submission

Murphy McNully Smut

Warning: NSFW 18+, this is revenge for @kc-needs-coffee making me feel feelings. How absolutely dare ye. It’s pure filth folks.

You were livid. Absolutely fuming at the report’s inconsiderate assumptions about you and Murphy; although you did your best to hold in your sneers and glares from the rest of the guests at the “Kestrals for Kids” Gala. Of course, you understood that you had a sizeable reputation when it came to the world of Quidditch. That was to be expected. And yet the fact that the reporter saw you as eye candy for your former teammate made you sick to your stomach. But none of that even compared to the way he so flippantly condescended Murphy on his big night.

Yes, Murphy was in a wheelchair. Anyone with relatively good eyesight could notice that. To you, it felt like that was the only thing the reporter noticed about the man that you loved. The man who made so many sacrifices so you could live out your dream post –Hogwarts. The man who spent nights out with your dad just because they felt like it. The man that loved you to the moon and back. After hearing the reporters vitriol take on your husband made you not even angry. It was more than that. It was pure fury that settled within your chest.

But for now, those feelings had to wait. You stood off to the side of the large room after vacating the terrace with Dougan who quickly left you at the promise of another scotch. That was fine by you though. You only had eyes for Murphy.

He was currently with the little kids at the event, grinning happily as they sat with him for rounds and rounds of pictures, being blinded every time the flash went off. It was nice to see him so comfortable. So in his element and so wonderfully himself.

After an hour had passed and most of the guests had left the busy event, you decided to take some time to yourself out on the terrace. The night breeze was helping cool you skin, but the anger that festered started to build again as you stared at the spot where reporter had taken your picture not too long ago. Your painted fingertips tapped on the side of your champagne glass, hoping the smooth bubbly drink would do something to calm you. It did nothing.

“Hello, Rising Star. Care for some company?”

You turned to see that Murphy had joined you, taking a moment to look out the glass barrier to admire the lush landscape before turning his sparkling grey eyes towards you. Even in the shadows they were bright. He was warm and cheerful, and regardless of how upset you were, you didn’t want to ruin his already good mood.

“I always want your company, Murph,” you hummed, taking another sip of your drink even though you knew it wasn’t giving you the effect you wanted.

“Did you have a good night?”

His question, though innocent and well intentioned, reminded you of how the beginning of your evening played out. The reporter’s dumb questions, his gross stinky cigars, and the scathing comments about Murphy resurfaced. Before you could hide it, your glare on Murphy intensified, trying your hardest drink in the image of the man you cared so deeply for.

Instead of answering him, you busied your body by waltzing behind him, your gold stiletto heels clicking against the stone floor with every step. He craned his neck back, trying to follow your path, but he let out a surprised groan once you gently gripped his neck from behind and kissed the side of it, focusing on his beating pulse. You couldn’t help but squeeze a bit, enjoying how Murphy’s breath hitched at the pinch of your manicured grip.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what’s going on?” His face curled in a satisfied smirk.

“I just need you,” you admitted softly, your hot breath tickling his ear, making him stiffen in his chair. Before, at the beginning of the night when decorum was important, you worried about leaving lipstick traces on his skin. But not now. Right now, you just had to prove to him how much he meant to you.

He growled lowly as you tugged on his hair, enjoying the way your nails scrapped and messed up his perfectly styled hair while you nibbled along his neck. Murphy was reeling in the attention, surprised when you tilted his head back and brought the champagne flute up to his lips to give him a taste of your drink. After swallowing the liquor, his eyes grew dark, eating up the image of you in your golden dress as you circled around to face him like a hungry vulture. Your getup had a deep neckline, and he licked his lips as you leaned in to kiss him properly. You wore that style of dress specifically to toy with Murphy’s desire for your chest, and he knew it.

“Call me selfish, but I don’t want anyone else to ever touch you.”

You left his kiss and slowly lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. His eyes bulged at the promise you were presenting as you flipped your scarlet hair over your shoulder.

“I’d suggest locking the door, big guy,” you chuckled as you started to run your hands over his knees and up his thighs teasingly. Without a second of hesitation, he pulled out his wand and muttered a spell in the direction of the French doors that separated you two from the stragglers at the event.

With a wicked grin, you started to unbuckle his belt, finding it comical how he was gripping the handles of his seat with such strength and for a moment you wished his hands were tangled in your hair like that. Usually, you would just pull down his pants as far as you had to; however, the report’s judgement on your husband’s body echoed in your ear.

He saw Murphy as undesirable, which to you was the most outlandish idea. But even Murphy had his insecurities some days. Tonight was about making him feel sexy. Making him feel worthy. Making him feel irresistible.

You pulled down Murphy’s pants further down his firm thighs, finding the shiny white and even the abrasive red scars on his leg beautiful. They made up Murphy; every tiny line weaved into the smoothness of his surrounding skin: a mixture of soft and rough. You wanted to appreciate all of him. So you slowly kissed the lines that littered his leg, alternating between biting the skin at his knee and then grazing the tip of your tongue along his thigh like his skin was a map for you to travel.

Once you made eye contact with Murphy, you saw his grey eyes softer than they were just seconds earlier. His brows were furrowed at the middle, confused by your subtle worship of his scars. But you loved this. Seeing him all vulnerable before you. His smart mouth was something you adored and yet his lips frowned as you continued your gentle ministrations on his leg.

You sat up high on your knees, gripping his waist beneath his dress shirt and placed a kiss over the wet spot on his briefs. His hips bucked at the feeling, finally reaching down to stroke your cheek in appreciation. He loved how you look nuzzling into his clothed cock while on your knees.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you babbled mindlessly, your thoughts clouded with the vision of your mouth on Murphy. “Please.”

Murphy nearly melted at the desperation in your voice. You usually got like this after he got you off a few times; however it was strange to see you pout at the mere thought of doing anything to him. With the hand that still hovered over your cheek, he pulled you in for a kiss. It wasn’t forceful, just compacted with all the insatiable feelings you too felt for each other. Kissing him was one of your favorite things to do; although Murphy’s need for you on him was becoming apparent as he sighed into your mouth.

“Does my darling girl wanna taste?” His jaw clenched as he looked down at your pleading form, pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb. All you could do was nod enthusiastically, already overcome by your neediness.

The ache in your knees was growing, but you had yet to fulfill your plan, so with a cheeky wink, you pulled down his briefs and grazed your tongue from the base to the tip of his cock in one long lick. Murphy grinned at the feeling, running his hands through his hair at your teasing tongue. His view was something straight out of a fantasy: your hands and deep red lips were working on him with such fervor, your copper hair was in his grip and from this angle he could tell that you weren’t wearing a bra beneath your slinky dress. It was overwhelming and yet he wouldn’t dare turn away from his beautiful girl on her knees.

All he could do was slump further into his chair as you gripped him in your hand, pumping him perfectly as you went back to kissing his scars. He had never had anyone give his body so much attention, especially the parts of him people would usually turn away from. And yet, there you were, marveling at every curve, scar, and dip of his body. You surprised him every time you did it, and every time he thanked whatever holy power there was for putting you in his life.

He was relieved that he locked the door behind him but with the way your lipstick was leaving marks on him, Murphy regretted not placing a silencing charm around you two as well. His breathing grew more labored as you took him back into your mouth, hollowing around him. Murphy couldn’t help but let out a weak chuckle at the whole situation, growing overwhelmed by the way you tightened your grip.

Before he could get off, you pulled away from him which made the man above you groan in frustration. But you didn’t leave him waiting long.

“You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily,” you reminded him as you continued to pump him in your hands, digging your nails onto his leg to steady yourself.

“No you don’t, my little beater. Strongest girl I know, you can take it.”

He chuckled darkly at you, gripping your hair a bit tighter, growing more desperate for his release. Murphy’s hips were now unrelenting; thrusting up quickly only to grunt as you coughed around him. But you didn’t care. You rejoiced in the way he was using you, because deep down, you knew that he would only ever choose you. This was your way of reminding him that you picked him as well.

The tears on your face trickled down your flushed cheeks, your efforts working in overdrive to prove yourself to Murphy, touching him in every way you knew he loved. You hummed around him as he lifted his arms behind his head to grip at his seat, meanwhile his hips jutted up from his chair as best he could. Harsher grunts were ripped from his chest, unable to keep quiet as you started scratching the inside of his taut thighs. Your name and filthy swears tumbled from his lips, biting down on them as he was nearing his high.

“C’mon, darling. Fuck, you’re too goddamn good,” was all he could mutter as you hollowed around him, your eyes meeting his as you giggled around him.

With a final grunt, Murphy released down your throat, his clothed chest heaving as the cool summer breeze made him realize just how warm he grew under your touch. He chuckled, hips still bucking as you kitten licked every drop he offered you. Your knees were wobbling from being pressed against the stone floor for so long, but you couldn’t care less.

Murphy rolled his eyes at you, growing overstimulated as you dragged your nails along the inside of his thigh leaving light scratches in their wake. He growled at your teasing, biting the inside of his cheek as he gripped your jaw firmly, beckoning you to rise from your position and onto his lap.

His hold on your chin was strong and you couldn’t turn away from his gaze even if you tried. His gray eyes were wild with desire for you and your heart started racing from his intensity. Your face tickled from the huffs of labored breaths he was still releasing as he came down from his high. Murphy was not only staring at you like he wanted you, he looked at you like he owned you.

“How long have you been devising this little plan, sweetheart?” His words were sweet, but his tone was pure filth.

“Since cocktail hour,” you admitted breathlessly, his fingers trailed from your chin to rest at the base of your neck, holding you like a collar would.

“Since cocktail hour,” he mocked, tipping his head to the side and laughing in your face. Not in a mean way; Murphy would never be cruel towards you. He chuckled deeply at your response because he knew that your mind must’ve been reeling with the thought of him for hours as he went on and worked the night. “So then tell me, love…”

You gasped loudly at the sudden feeling of Murphy reaching underneath your lavish dress to circle your clit with a firm thumb.

“Aw, I was right, darling. You’re dripping. And I didn’t even have to do anything.”

His face twisted in a self-assured grin, one that you loved to see him wear. That meant he was feeling confident, which he should feel all the time. He was everything you could ever want.

Soon enough, his talented fingers started pumping into you as his thumb continued to toy with your body, drawing whiny moans from you with every thrust. His other hand was tangled in your hair, making sure you kept his eyes on him at all times.

“Better keep quiet. There’s no silencing spell in place and beyond those doors are some very influential people. Wouldn’t want them to see my pretty girl getting finger fucked now would we?”

Your eyes rolled back at his comment. Being caught wasn’t your game plan, but the idea of everyone knowing that Murphy owned your body so well is an intoxicating thought.

“Or maybe you do want that?” He hummed against your mouth, kissing every whimper you released against his lips. “Does my baby want everyone to know who gets to play with you? Want everyone to know how good I make you feel?”

Your release was so close, and Murphy’s clenched jaw and teasing words was bringing you to the edge. His fingers were relentlessly working your every nerve in the best way possible, making you clench around him. Until there was nothing left to squeeze.

Murphy pulled his hand away from you, making you buck against his lap which only made your gorgeous husband laugh softly.

“You don’t get to cum, darling,” he began licking your sweetness off his fingers as he stared into your stunning and blown out eyes. “Not until I say so. Do you understand?”

Beneath the thin layer of your dress was the rapid rise and fall of your chest, which Murphy took no steps to hide his gaze on your breasts. His face was no longer as stern as before, he was looking up at you with an amused expression, enjoying how your body had slumped against his from your pleasure.

His nose trailed up the side of your neck, getting lost in your perfume as he kissed the shell of your ear.

“Do you understand?” he groaned.

Wordlessly, you nodded slowly. The feeling of your delayed high made you delirious; you would agree to anything Murphy said if that meant he would eventually touch you again. He pulled you in by the back of your neck and placed a kiss over your hazy eyelids, down your nose. His lips trailed across your cheek and then your jaw until they finally landed on your lips. He tasted like your champagne and for the first time in the night you finally felt drunk off of something.

“I love you, you filthy thing,” he chuckled which made you hide your face in his neck, groaning in annoyance from his teasing. “Up, darling.”

You stood up from his lap with weak legs as he fixed his clothes, trying his hardest to look relatively normal. His fingers raked through his hair to calm the golden strands, but since the event was practically over, Murphy didn’t care that much. With a flick of his wand, the French doors which were once magically sealed shut unlocked in a second.

The distance between the terrace and the Ministry issued car was far too long, growing worse every time Murphy was halted by a remaining guest who wished to speak with him. You stood proudly beside your husband as he worked his charm, you would’ve enjoyed the moment but instead you had to clench your thighs to fight off the desire your body was still demanding. Fake smiles painted your face even though you wanted to be sincere. It just wasn’t happening at the moment.

After a few stops and curious questions, you and Murphy finally reached the black government car that was waiting to take you back to your flat. Thirty minutes. You just had to endure another thirty minutes.

Except that wasn’t what Murphy had planned. As soon as you two were settled in the car and his chair was secured in the back, he closed the partition, put up a silencing spell and immediately began toying with your clit yet again. It wasn’t what you needed and Murphy knew that, too. He wasn’t touching you to make you feel good, he was touching you because he could, and you loved it.

Thirty minutes. You endured thirty torturous minutes of gentle grazes against your clit that did nothing to silence the ache you felt for him. The whole time he whispered filthy compliments to you as you tried your hardest to sit still and look inconspicuous until you reached the flat.

Thankfully, once you reached your destination, you were able to regain some of your sense. The driver assisted with getting Murphy’s chair, although your husband quickly yet kindly dismissed any further help. He didn’t need it.

The moment you two entered the threshold of your flat, Murphy lifted himself onto the soft cotton sheets of your bed. He ripped off his shirt so his wide shoulders were fully exposed to you and your nails instinctively dug into the taut muscle. His grip on your hips was almost painful, but you craved Murphy, in anyway he’d take you.

You yelped as he picked you up over his shoulder and slammed your body down on the bed. He chuckled lowly at your reaction, but soon enough his movements proved to be just as desperate as you felt. He pulled the neckline of your dress to the side to release one of your breasts. The sudden exposure to the cold night air made you gasp, but it was Murphy’s sucking on your nipple that made you yell and grind against his thigh.

“I’ve gotta have you, my love. God, I can’t fucking wait,” he groaned as he lifted the skirt of your sparkly dress over your hips, relishing in just how wet you still were.

He held himself up with one arm as you undid his belt and made quick work of his pants and underwear, lining himself up with you.

“Hands up,” he instructed. As soon as you lifted both your hands up over your head, he captured your wrists in a single hand. You gasped at the feeling of being so powerless beneath him but it was everything you wanted and more.

“I love you,” he moaned more so to himself as he pushed himself fully into you, his head dipped onto your chest at the feeling of you squeezing him. Instinctively, your legs raised to hook around his waist, encouraging him to rock into you harder. He stretched you so good and you couldn’t help but whine as he pumped into you slowly but entirely, every inch of him was accepted by your greedy body.

Murphy marveled at you beneath him, mesmerized by the bounce of your tits every time he thrusted into you, but god your little cries were the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard. You bit down hard on your lower lip, unable to control an ounce of the situation, but you didn’t have to. Murphy knew your body better than anyone.

Your back arched uncomfortably as his pelvis grinded against your clit with every snap of his hips. You were already so sensitive but soon enough he was ravenously pounding you into the mattress.

“Please, please, baby,” you cried against his neck before biting down on the point where his shoulder met his collarbone.

“Go on, darling. You deserve it. Cum for me.”

Without another word, Murphy laced his fingers with yours as you came hard around him, your whole body thrashed beneath him. It was almost too much to handle, but Murphy was chasing his own high. After a few more thrusts and a cry of your name, he finished, fully dropping his sweaty body against yours.

You were fucked beyond comprehension, the slick gold dress was barely hanging on you anymore and your hair was a wild mess as it fanned out behind you. But you didn’t care.

“I love you.”

Murphy sighed happily at your declaration, memorizing every line of your, now, calm and thoroughly loved body. He loved looking at you after making love to you, no matter how rough or romantic. The sight of you was too beautiful to pass up.

“Wanna take a nap, my love? We can talk afterwards, yeah?”

At the sound of sleep, you nodded tiredly. Still semi covered in your golden dress, you slipped underneath the comforting sheets of your bed. Murphy followed you after covering himself up with his discarded underwear and his crisp business shirt. They weren’t the most practical outfits for sleeping, but as soon as your head hit the pillow, you succumbed to your exhaustion.

Murphy’s strong body pulled yours to him, leaving a whisper of kisses over your exposed shoulder. He uttered a final word before he too fell asleep.

“Mine.”

#murphy mcnully smut #murphy mcnully #hogwarts mystery #coffee and commentary #Murtriona

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

Photo

The Cinderella AU is back, and...ahhhh, my babiiiiies. *dissolves into a pile of happy goo*

The Winter Festival presented in Royaume is most strongly related to the celebrations for Saint Nicholas in French provinces such as Lorraine, which are held on December 6th and include lots of music and a parade led by Saint Nicholas (or Pere Noel, as he’s also called), the French alternative to Father Christmas and Santa Claus. Florence’s holiday likewise resembles Italy’s Feast Day, which is hosted on December 8th.

Back in the olden days, dancing wasn’t just done for fun -- it was considered a standard form of socializing. Prior to the 19th century, it was far more common for Europeans to dance in large groups that then switched partners frequently, as opposed to being locked onto a specific partner, and this applies to both formal gatherings and more informal ones. Strict pair dancing really came more in vogue in the early 1800′s with the German waltz, so during the Renaissance, one could expect to see a lot more swapping of partners at parties than one generally sees in the modern era. There were couple dances at that time, of course, such as the lavolta -- they just weren’t as popular as dances like the waltz became at formal gatherings later on. Country dancing, or dances performed at informal gatherings, was generally seen as more lighthearted and easy for people to join in without being expert at it, while court dances, which were generally saved for more formal events, were much more performative and choreographed.

Carewyn’s dress in this sketch was strongly based off of this absolutely gorgeous dress, which was inspired by real Renaissance artwork.

Previous part is here – whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

With the arrival of winter, Carewyn found herself busier than ever. The King and Queen of Royaume had ordered that the palace be fully furnished with holiday cheer, so Carewyn and the rest of the staff soon had their hands full, putting gold-trimmed garlands around every banister and decking every hall with holly and ivy. Carewyn wondered how in the world the King and Queen could afford such finery when they still couldn’t seem to scrounge up enough funds to have the proper tools and supplies in stock for their staff, let alone to give them proper food rations -- but from what Bill and Charlie told her, this wasn’t too uncommon.

“It’s like this every year,” said Charlie, sounding very surly. “The royals and the court always pig out on the most sumptuous feasts, and then we have to pay for it after the fact. Just you wait until New Year’s -- the Queen always likes hosting a huge masked ball to ‘start the new year off right’ and the nobles end up leaving the worst messes behind...”

Bill sighed. “I don’t think it’s all selfishness on their part, really. I think it’s to try to lift the Prince’s spirits, more than anything. You know he isn’t allowed to leave the castle grounds...and I’m sure he no doubt hears all about the Winter Festival and all the other celebrations in town around this time of year, from the staff. The holiday season can’t be that much fun, when you’re forced to sit and watch from the sidelines...”

Andre did indeed seem to be in a forlorn mood. Whenever Carewyn caught sight of him walking through the palace gardens with her cousin Iris, he seemed to always be looking away, off into the distance, while Iris tried to engage him in conversation. Carewyn couldn’t help but feel sorry for him -- as much as his parents clearly were spending beyond their means, it seemed to be largely so that they could try to shield him from the War going on outside. It wasn’t a good decision, Carewyn thought, but a slightly understandable one...and more importantly, Andre himself had no hand in either the staff’s struggles or his own captivity.

One day Carewyn was polishing the floors in one of the guest suite, singing the song Orion had given her for the second time that day, when the partially ajar door was very quickly shoved open. Carewyn looked up just in time to see a ruffle of bed curtains, as if someone had leapt onto the guest bed and drawn the curtains so that they were hidden from view.

Carewyn opened her mouth, ready to ask who was there, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice echoing down the hallway outside.

“Your Highness?”

Iris?

Carewyn frowned deeply. She heard heels clapping down the hall, and sure enough, her brown-haired, slender cousin came into view through the open door.

Iris caught sight of Carewyn inside the guest suite, and her confused expression instantly turned ugly.

“Have you seen the Prince?” she demanded.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows innocently. “No.”

“Well, if you do, tell him that Lady Iris is looking for him,” said Iris waspishly. “And see that you don’t speak to him either.”

“I don’t quite know how I can tell his Highness that you’re looking for him, if I’m not allowed to speak to him,” said Carewyn rather coolly.

“You know full well what I mean,” Iris snarled under her breath.

Eying the almost completely polished floor, she rather pointedly strode right through the part Carewyn had just finished cleaning, dragging her heels to leave long, streaking footprints through it.

“Prince Henri might like using you as his little dress-up doll, but don’t think it means he actually likes you,” she whispered coldly. “Why would a prince ever be interested in a servant girl with no dowry or prospects?”

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed upon the streaks on the floor before flitting up onto Iris’s face with a very stony look. She was very tempted to remind Iris that she had no interest in kissing up to the richest man that would have her, and that a man and a woman didn’t have to be romantically interested in each other to engage in conversation...but, honestly, she didn’t see much point. She wouldn’t be able to soothe Iris’s jealousy no matter what she said, and Carewyn quite frankly liked the thought of Iris leaving far more than to try to make her feel better.

Satisfied that she’d gotten the last word, Iris picked up the skirts of her lavender brocade gown and strode quickly from the room and down the hall in search of Andre.

Carewyn remained on the floor for a moment, waiting for the sound of her cousin’s footsteps to fade away. Then she slowly rose to her feet, walked over to the door, and closed it, before she got back down on her hands and knees so she could start cleaning the part of the floor Iris had slid her feet through.

“Andre?” whispered Carewyn without looking up. “Is that you, hiding in there?”

There was a rustle. Then the bed curtains parted, to reveal Andre sitting on his knees on the bed.

“You knew it was me?” he murmured.

“I thought it might be,” said Carewyn, offering him a small gentle smile even though she didn’t fully look up from her work.

Andre looked almost guilty. “...Thank you for covering for me, Carewyn. I don’t mean to insult your cousin, I just...need some space.”

“It’s all right. It can be draining, not to have any time to yourself, even when you are around people you like. And really, I didn’t lie -- I hadn’t seen you, however much I thought I might know where you were,” she added with a wry smile.

Andre tried to smile, but it came out rather forced and faded very quickly. He glanced from Carewyn to the closed door and back.

“...Does she always talk to you like that? Iris?”

Carewyn paused in the work and looked up. Andre’s face was twisted in a very troubled frown.

The maidservant returned her focus to the floor so as not to look at him, scrubbing at a particularly dirty streak.

“Not always,” she said mildly.

Sometimes she says worse things.

Andre’s eyes narrowed slightly, becoming sadder still. “Carewyn...I had no idea. I mean, I understand your mother was estranged from your family and your father skipped town, but...Iris is your cousin. Even if she’s nobility and you’re not, the way you talked about your family, I thought...”

He trailed off. He felt incredibly foolish, for not having questioned whether Iris and Carewyn’s relationship was really that good. KC had even complained about her mother trying to matchmake her with Carewyn’s cousin, Arsen Dupont, hadn’t she? Did that mean that all of Carewyn’s family talked to her the way Iris did?

Carewyn, however, was very stoic in her response. “Please don’t judge Iris based on how she speaks to me, Andre.”

Grandfather would be furious if I were the reason Iris didn’t marry Andre. The only reason that Iris and Andre shouldn’t marry should be Iris herself, and her own stupidity.

“Good people don’t have to get along with everyone, not even their own family. The way Iris speaks to me is just as much my own doing as it is hers -- and truly, her words are just words. They don’t injure me. If you enjoy her company, then you mustn’t judge her too harshly for something like this.”

Judge her harshly for other reasons.

Andre didn’t look very comforted. He adjusted himself on the bed so that he was sitting on the edge with his feet on the floor.

“...To be honest...I don’t really enjoy it that much,” he muttered.

Carewyn looked up again.

“She’s amiable enough, I suppose,” said Andre uncomfortably, “but...well, I was curious to meet her because it sounded like she enjoyed fashion and might have some good ideas for me to try out. And she had a few -- I mean, I still don’t think ash gray suits you at all...but I ended up finding a rather nice shiny pewter fabric for your shoes, and -- well, you’ll see it when they’re done. I think you’ll like them. But even with that...it just feels like, a lot of the time, she’s only saying what she thinks I want to hear, rather than what she really thinks! Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike flattery -- but I already get that all the time at court. Especially around this time of year...”

He looked down at the floor, his shoulders dropping as he rested his arms in his lap.

“I have plenty of servants and subjects and...well, people who only want to be around me for my crown,” he said dejectedly. “I guess all I was really hoping for was...”

“A friend.”

Andre looked up at Carewyn in surprise. She’d put down her rag on the edge of her bucket, her eyes full to the brim with compassion.

Within seconds, the Prince’s face had burst into a delighted, relieved expression.

“Yes! Oh, I’m so glad you understand, Carewyn. Erika always says I shouldn’t complain so much...and I know she’s right -- I have a lot to be grateful for. It’s just...”

“You can have a lot to be grateful for and still be missing what you need,” said Carewyn very primly. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do more or be more. It’s how you express that feeling that matters.”

Andre cocked his eyebrows curiously. “Express it?”

Unable to meet the Prince’s eye straight-on, Carewyn fixed her ponytail so that some of the hair coming out of it was restrained again.

“Well...to Lady Rath’s point, complaining about a problem, or wishing it would go away, never really solved anything. My mother used to say that ‘dreamers never make a dream come true’ -- if you want something to happen, then you need to act on it, not just sit around and wish that things might change.”

That’s why I can’t just sit back and wait for the War to end so Jacob can come home. If he’s out there on the battlefield, in pain and alone, I need to find out where and figure out some way to reach him.

Andre considered this for a long moment. At last his face split into a huge, blazing white smile.

“You’re right! You’re absolutely right, Carewyn...”

He leapt off the bed, bent down to get down on Carewyn’s level, and grabbed both of her shoulders.

“Will you go to the Winter Festival with me?”

Carewyn was taken aback. “What?”

“I’ve never been, not even once, even though I’ve always wanted to,” said Andre, his eyes bright with excitement. “Of course we’d probably have to be sneaky about it...but the courtiers will be plenty occupied all night here, with Mother’s ball. There are plenty of times I’ve been able to sneak out of the ballroom and no one’s ever found me, even when they were actively looking. I have the perfect purple brocade doublet I could wear...and I’m sure your new shoes will be stunning with the dark blue velvet gown I made for you...”

“Andre,” said Carewyn, a bit taken aback by his enthusiasm, “hold on. Brocade and velvet...those are hardly things to wear outside the palace, if you don’t want to be noticed.”

Andre blinked. “They’re not?”

“No,” Carewyn said very firmly, her eyes narrowing reproachfully as she slid out of his grip. “Only people of status and wealth wear those materials. People in town wear cottons, linens -- wool -- and they’re far simpler than even the uniform I’m wearing right now. You and I would stick out like sore thumbs, especially since all of the nobility will be at the Queen’s Ball. I doubt we’d last more than five minutes in town before we got caught.”

Andre deflated visibly.

“...I see,” he said, disappointed. “If only I’d thought of this sooner...I could probably have made us something else, if the Festival wasn’t the day after tomorrow...”

Carewyn bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t love the thought of going against the King and Queen’s wishes, and of course spending time with Andre was uncomfortable considering she was supposed to stay out of Iris’s way, but...well, she agreed with Bill. It had to feel pretty rotten, to be stuck on the sidelines, watching everyone else have fun and longing to join in, during the holidays. Carewyn had never really gone to the Winter Festival as a kid since her mother didn’t like large crowds and she’d preferred spending quiet time at home with her and Jacob...but Andre clearly wanted to go to the Festival so badly...

“...I could...always go pick something up, in town,” Carewyn said slowly, her eyes lingering on Andre’s shoulder rather than his face. “I’m supposed to be meeting a friend at the castle gate around noon...I could always convince him to walk with me to look for some festival clothes for both of us. Then you could always tailor what I bring back, in case it doesn’t fit correctly...”

Andre looked like Carewyn had just presented him with a unicorn for a Christmas present.

“Oh, Carewyn...you’re absolutely brilliant, that’s what you are! Don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of money -- buy whatever you think is best -- ”

And that was how Carewyn got roped into going to the Winter Festival. But really, she knew she couldn’t in good conscience let Andre sneak out on his own...and despite herself, her heart was much too gentle for her to even think of trying to tell him not to go, however much trouble she knew both of them would be in if they got caught.

All the more reason to make sure we don’t, she told herself.

When she met Orion at the gate that day, she told him she had some shopping to do before the Festival. Orion had quirked an eyebrow when she had him hold up several peasant-worthy outfits over himself so Carewyn could examine them, but Carewyn refused to tell him who she was shopping for, merely that he was around Orion’s height.

“Can I take this to mean you’ll be attending the Festival after all, my lady?” Orion asked, his eyes trailing over her face with some interest. “I believe you told Ginny Weasley that you’d be too busy.”

Carewyn avoided his eye as she took the outfit he was holding from him and placed both it and a forest green and white dress she’d found on the counter so she could pay.

“I am -- but I’ve opened some time in my schedule for it all the same, at least in the evening.”

Something flickered in the back of Orion’s eyes. Was it curiosity, or was it disappointment? “The gentleman you’re shopping for must be someone special, for you to reschedule your plans.”

Carewyn couldn’t fight back a proud huff. “He’s special only in the way that he needs help, and I’m the person who can give it.”

She took the clothes from the cashier and started heading out of the shop. Orion followed along behind, his black eyes running over her face even while she refused to look at him and narrowing ever-so-slightly.

“...I see.”

Andre was pleasantly surprised by what Carewyn had brought back for them. Although yes, they were made of far less expensive fabrics than he was used to and lacked decoration, he was very pleased with the colors. He’d mentioned having a purple doublet before, so he wasn’t surprised she picked that color of tunic for him, but he was very happy when she picked out some very handsome emerald green trousers trimmed with gold embroidery to go with them, as well as some tall black leather boots with gold buckles. Andre hadn’t really put purple and green together much before, but he really liked how the shades looked together. Carewyn’s dress, however, he did make one large alteration to besides just the fit -- adding a rather pretty trim to the front and back of bodice and the bottom of the skirt made of thick silvery linen ribbon. (He claimed that it was to help the dress better blend with her new pewter gray silk slippers, but Carewyn also just suspected he couldn’t help himself, seeing how plain the dress she’d gotten was.)

The night of the Festival, Andre went down to the Queen’s Winter Ball. After going through the motions for a half hour or so to throw off suspicion, Andre slipped away, and -- after quickly changing into his peasant clothes -- met Carewyn by the gate of the palace. When he got there, he found Bill, Charlie, and their little sister Ginny waiting just across the street, ever so “casually” looking away from the castle wall as Carewyn carefully opened the gate and she and Andre slipped out. Once the gate was closed, the three Weasleys swooped down on Carewyn and Andre, Charlie grabbing Andre’s arm and Ginny grabbing Carewyn’s, and the group flooded into town to meet up with the rest of the Weasley clan.

From the moment they arrived, Andre looked happier and more laid-back that Carewyn had ever seen him. Carewyn couldn’t help but feel like just walking around the Festival, surrounded by ordinary people who had no idea who he really was, made this the best day of the young Prince’s life...and she had to admit, as much as she could take or leave parties, his enthusiasm was infectious. When Ginny suggested they go dance, Andre was absolutely thrilled at the thought of learning how to do a country dance, and pressured Carewyn to show him how. Carewyn hardly thought herself the best choice for this, but found it difficult to say no, seeing how excited he was. Once Carewyn, Charlie, Andre, and Ginny jumped into the fray, though, she did find herself having fun. The steps were actually pretty easy to follow along to, especially compared to the sorts of court dances she’d always seen her older cousins practicing at the Cromwell estate, before any private balls they were invited to.

It didn’t take long, though, for someone to spot Andre. In the middle of one of their dances, a hand came from out of nowhere and snatched a hold of the back of the Prince’s purple tunic, pulling him back out of line.

“Hey!” yelped Andre. “What are you -- ?!”

He looked up, to see the rather tall and foreboding frame of his fencing instructor.

Andre gave a very weak smile. “Aha...hi, Erika.”

Erika’s expression was very stony. Carewyn, Charlie, and Ginny immediately hopped out of line and over to them. Standing right behind Erika and dressed in a sapphire blue cloak that obscured her elegantly trimmed linen dress was KC.

“Lady Rath!” said Charlie with his best attempt at a winning smile. “KC! What a nice...surprise! Heh...”

KC raised her eyebrows coolly. “Hello, Charlie...Carewyn.”

Bill had rushed over too, sensing trouble.

“It’s not their fault, KC,” said Andre quickly, “I can explain -- ”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said KC, her arms crossing as she looked at Andre. “We know full well it isn’t their fault.”

“I say it is,” said Erika rather bluntly, her eyes flashing dangerously at Carewyn and the Weasleys, “considering they encouraged it.”

“It isn’t their fault because they wouldn’t have felt able to say ‘no’ to the Crown Prince of Royaume, even if they’d wanted to,” KC pointed out logically.

Andre suddenly looked very guilty. He glanced from the Weasleys to Carewyn, almost silently asking if he’d pressured them into any of this. Charlie, in response, spoke rather forcefully.

“Well, frankly, we did want to! Andre deserves a fun holiday, for once. Reckon it’s a helluva lot better than that stuffy old ball going on up there.”

He jabbed a thumb behind him in the direction of the palace.

“The Prince’s safety is more important than a fun holiday,” Erika shot back coldly, “as are the King and Queen’s orders. You’d do well to remember that, Weasley.”

“Erika, please,” said Andre desperately. “No one from Florence would dare come this far west of the border...and even if they did, none of them would recognize me, dressed like this. And you said it yourself, KC, it’s likely they won’t attack our forces anyway until after the 8th -- that’s when their winter holiday is, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” granted KC with a frown. Her voice became much more thoughtful as she added, “Though if they wanted to be really clever, they’d strike on or the morning immediately after a holiday, when everyone’s got their guard down...”

Carewyn faced Erika with as much conviction as she could, even though she was completely eclipsed by the taller and stronger woman’s shadow.

“I realize the Prince’s safety is important,” she said in a very low voice, so as not to be overheard, “but if there truly was anyone who meant to target him, wouldn’t they be more likely to look for him at the Winter Ball, rather than here among the peasantry? And considering that the palace is only about five blocks away from here and he’s in the company in one of the castle’s most capable guards,” she nodded in Bill’s direction, “and both his combat instructor and our army’s chief military strategist...I’d say that he’s quite well protected.”

Erika gave Carewyn a beady look.

“People say you’re nothing like your family, Cromwell,” she said rudely, “but I think they’re full of it. You’re just as pretentious and fawning as the rest of them.”

She nonetheless released the back of Andre’s collar.

“I’ll stay for two hours only,” she muttered to him sourly. “When I go, you go.”

Andre beamed from ear to ear.

KC and Erika weren’t much for dancing, but they did loosen up in time, while sitting with the rest of the Weasleys and enjoying some of the fresh sugar-dusted crepes, mince pies, cocoa, and coffee. Before long as well, Andre had mastered the art of the country dance. Ginny was thrilled to have someone else who was just as excited to dance as she was, and -- bless her heart -- the twelve-year-old treated Andre with the same amount of cheer and respect as she probably would’ve anyone else, just like her brothers did. She even ended up giving Andre pointers about how to do the dances better. Carewyn soon found herself getting pretty tired, but Ginny, Charlie, and Andre all kept pulling her back into line with them, and she bit back her exhaustion if only to see them smiling a little longer. It had been a really long time since she’d been able to make anyone smile like that, while doing so little -- it made herself feel that little bit better about herself, and made her stand just that little bit taller.

While dancing to a particular song, the woman playing the fiddle sped up very abruptly, changing tempo. Soon everyone was rotating in chaotic, joyful circles, switching partners constantly. As to be expected in country dancing, a few people made mistakes that they had to correct, but nobody really cared. One mistake, though, was Carewyn losing her footing and tripping over her skirt. The new gray silk shoes Andre had made for her, as lovely and comfortable as they were, were more like slippers than any proper outdoor footwear and didn’t have great traction, so she would’ve fallen right off her feet if someone hadn’t suddenly appeared behind her and caught her with an arm gently looped around her back.

It was Orion. He was dressed in clothes that were nicer than usual, but still modest, including some brown suede boots and a handsome forest green doublet that ended up being the same shade as Carewyn’s dress, though he still lacked the high-collared undershirt one would usually see from a nobleman.

“Forgive me for catching you twice, my lady,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Carewyn couldn’t help but smile. “At least you weren’t hurt after throwing yourself under me this time -- ”

They couldn’t continue the conversation, though, without getting locked up in the midst of the group dance. Carewyn was forced to twirl in sequence, just to avoid another pair moving on through.

“Shall we?” she asked.

Orion suddenly looked oddly wary, like a foal learning how to walk.

“I’m afraid I’ve never done this before,” he murmured, just barely dodging another pair of dancers.

Following the sequence, Carewyn rested an arm lightly around Orion’s waist, steering him in a circle.

“Don’t worry,” she said, as she offered him an encouraging smile. “It’s only a pattern...no one will complain if you make a mistake. Follow me.”

His face betraying some hesitance, Orion nonetheless found himself letting go, mirroring Carewyn in stylized turns and spirals through the dancing crowd.

Orion had come to the Festival because he’d guessed that the mysterious “guest” Carewyn was shopping for was -- in fact -- the Prince of Royaume, and thus this would be the perfect opportunity for Orion to meet him and get a better fix on his character. But even with this goal in his mind, he’d found his inner balance oddly disturbed, when he caught sight of Carewyn. She’d always been a rather pretty woman, but in the company of her friends -- smiling with such pure, undiluted happiness, at the sight of how happy they were -- her blue eyes sparkling with such soft emotion, every time they laughed -- her ginger hair flying free as a flag behind her as she twirled around them...it distracted him. It was an unwelcome distraction, one he was quick to scold himself for, before trying to relocate his center and return to the task at hand. And yet, when Carewyn lost her footing, he found himself once again throwing away his own internal balance and laser-pointed focus in favor of turbulent, emotional chaos...and soon they were dancing, and Orion found himself surfing in that chaos -- relishing that wild, but liberating warmth he felt coming off of her. Was it some magical aura she had, that made him feel like he was dancing with a blazing, soothing fire even as the snow began to fall overhead?

Carewyn Cromwell truly was a remarkable woman, to divert the Prince of Florence’s focus away from his one and only goal...and yet, as Orion danced with her, he couldn’t help but think...oh, if their world could be but a world where they could dance like this anywhere...even in Florence, where everyone knew his face...

When the dance came to an end, everyone clapped, and Carewyn and Orion moved off to the side together to sit with Bill, Ron, KC, and Erika. Erika was very suspicious of Orion from the off-set, finding him way too “pleasant” for her tastes, but Orion wasn’t the least bit offended. If anything, he said with a wry smile, her aggressive aura in some ways reminded him of a good friend of his. After several more rounds, Andre, Charlie, and Ginny finally came to sit down with the others for a quick break.

“Whew! I’m parched,” said Andre. He brought a hand up to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Here,” said Bill.

He offered the Prince a stein of apple cider. Andre gulped down about half of it before lowering the stein, his mouth stretched into a broad smile.

“Oh, Carewyn, thank you for this,” he said, reaching out a hand to squeeze hers. “If I’d had any concept just how much fun this was, I would’ve come years ago.”

Carewyn smiled, looking genuinely touched. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Andre.”

Orion glanced from Carewyn to Andre and back. His face was very unreadable, but his black eyes had widened noticeably.

This must be him, he realized. Prince Henri.

The thought was a club to the back of the head, knocking some sense back into him after having gotten so thoroughly distracted. Orion’s thoughts moved very quickly as he watched the two interact.

“I am,” Andre said fervently, his eyes squinting slightly as he beamed. “And I hope you know how grateful I am...”

Something grimmer flickered over his face.

“...I hope you know...Iris was wrong, about how I see you.”

Carewyn was startled. “Andre...”

“I don’t just see you like a little dress-up doll,” said Andre very seriously, as he squeezed her hand. “You’re my friend, and a good one, at that. And for what it’s worth...” he smiled broadly, “...I’d say any royal should be proud, to have you on their arm.”

Carewyn was clearly a bit overwhelmed by the Prince’s complimentary words. Her gaze had drifted down to the table.

“...Thank you, Andre,” she said very softly.

Although her face was demure, her sparkling eyes and voice betrayed some deep, genuine emotion -- and despite himself, Orion felt some warm pride welling up in his chest, at the sound of it. Catching himself, Orion forced himself to return to the task at hand and lightly cleared his throat.

“Forgive me,” he said politely, “but I don’t think we’ve met.”

Carewyn looked from Andre to Orion quickly.

“Oh -- yes,” she said, “Andre...this is Orion. Orion, Andre.”

Andre’s eyes lit up at the name.

“So this is the infamous Orion you’ve been telling me about, KC!” he said, shooting a bright grin over at his cousin.

Orion raised his eyebrows curiously. “‘Infamous?’ I must wonder what she’s told you, for me to have earned that title.”

KC grinned. “Just that you saved Carewyn from a bucking horse, pulled her out of a ravine, and climbed over the castle wall twice just to visit her.”

Ginny’s freckled face lit up. “Orion, you did all that? That’s so romantic!”

Both Orion and Carewyn immediately tried to correct the record, but no one seemed to care much. Andre was laughing most of the time.

“Are you well-traveled, Orion?” asked Andre. “Judging by the way your doublet is distressed, I’d guess you’ve been to the Islands in the Southern Sea -- I’ve only seen such fabrics as imports.”

“I’m...afraid I haven’t, actually,” confessed Orion. “Though I have been to the Southern Sea.”

Florence’s castle was actually positioned on the shore, right by the sea. It was one of the few things Orion could say in its favor, even though there were times it made him long to cast off and never return.

Everyone seemed interested in this.

“You have?” said Charlie eagerly. “What’s it like?”

“Did you sail on a ship?” asked Ginny.

“Were you ever attacked by pirates?” added Ron.

“Nothing that exciting, I’m afraid,” Orion chuckled. “I’ve only seen it, not sailed it...at least, not yet.”

Carewyn’s red lips turned up into a full, pretty smile. “It must be beautiful, though.”

Orion turned to her, his own mouth spread in a grin. “It’s breathtaking. A seemingly endless void of blue that nonetheless sparkles as green as jade and as white as pearl. It’s as translucent as crystal, and yet so deep and mysterious that ships have been swallowed whole by it, and no man could ever discover all of its secrets. Its waves whisper to you as it ghosts the shoreline, and yet it can also roar and ravage like a beast, without warning or mercy. It can hypnotize you, draw you in...make you long to drown yourself in it, while simultaneously wanting it to spirit you away, over the horizon...”

Like your eyes.

Orion caught himself staring in them. Closing his eyes and bowing his head, he forced a soft laugh.

“Forgive me -- I’ve gotten carried away...”

“Not at all,” said Carewyn gently. She rested a hand lightly on top of his forearm. “It sounds wonderful.”

Orion found himself unsure of how to respond to her touch. He’d never really been around a lot of physical affection before, so he was at a bit of a loss of what to do in such a situation. Fortunately Carewyn withdrew not long after, and Orion tried to find his center of balance again by turning his focus back to Andre.

“...I must say, though...your attention to detail is impressive, Andre. I can see why you and Carewyn get along -- she also has an eye for hair and clothing pieces.”

“Of course she does,” said Charlie, sparing a playful smile in Carewyn’s direction. “Carey is our little lady, after all.”

Carewyn shot Charlie an attempt at a sardonic look, but it was foiled by the broad smile that had conquered her face.

“That she is!” Andre laughed.

“A lady with considerable grit, however,” said Bill, his mouth turned up in a wry smile not unlike Charlie’s. “I’ve never seen anyone else climb up onto a mantle, just to reach a chandelier.”

KC looked at Carewyn incredulously. “What? Why didn’t you get a ladder?”

“It wasn’t necessary,” said Carewyn primly, crossing her arms. “I had it under control.”

Orion’s black eyes sparkled affectionately. “I’d say even an experienced soldier in the field would hesitate before climbing over a steep cliff and into a briar patch at the bottom of a ravine...wouldn’t you agree, Andre?”

Andre nodded. “I daresay so! Though I’ve never been to the battlefield myself, or met any soldiers...I would dearly like to, though.”

Orion frowned. “Like to?”

“Well, yes,” said Andre, his tone becoming more serious. “We could use all the help we can get out there...I’d love to feel like I could really help the war effort on the ground, rather than staying at home. Especially when my comfort is built on the backs of those who are hurting.”

Orion’s gaze fell down onto his hands as they clasped together on the table.

“...Your conviction is inspiring,” he said softly. “But believe me...a battlefield is not a place anyone should like to visit.”

Not long after, Erika rather abruptly rose to her feet and told Andre it was time to leave. The group all left the festival together, though Carewyn lingered behind with Orion, so as to try to give Andre cover for getting back inside the palace without anyone noticing.

Once they were alone, Orion once again found himself off-balance. He’d acknowledged before that Carewyn indeed was a person to be admired, as well as a person who could be admired by anyone...even him. He did admire her. He enjoyed her company -- he found her witty and engaging -- he identified with her independence, resilience, and determination -- he was struck by her compassion and utter selflessness. She was like him in so many ways, and yet she was methodical and insightful, as well as braver than a bear, despite her size. Her voice was so soothing, and yet it rippled with a kind of deep passion and emotion that it truly rivaled the deep, dark sea. And tonight especially...tonight, he kept catching himself staring...but none of that mattered. None of it should matter, in the face of achieving peace for Florence.

“She’s not on your side,” McNully’s words returned to him. “She’s on Royaume’s. Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

Orion couldn’t help but feel as though using his head would be easier if he could more easily tell which way was up.

“I’m glad you came, Orion,” said Carewyn. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better dance instructor -- dancing isn’t really my area of expertise.”

Orion’s black eyes sparkled mischievously. “Perhaps we shall simply have to dance again in the future, so that we might practice.”

Carewyn giggled. “Somehow I doubt either of us will be attending any grand balls in the future.”

Orion’s amused gaze softened as it trailed over her cold-kissed pink cheeks and along the snowflakes clinging to the ginger waves cascading down her back.

Carewyn tilted her head, her lips twisted up in a wryly questioning smile. “...What?”

Orion looked away quickly.

“Forgive me -- I merely...don’t recall ever having seen you wear your hair down before. It’s...different.”

Carewyn brought a hand through her hair absently. “Mm...yeah, I guess it would be. I don’t wear my hair down much, but...well, I figured for a casual event like this, it wouldn’t be a problem...”

“It’s no problem at all,” said Orion. He kept his tone as level as possible, even though he felt a flush creeping up his neck. “I was just thinking it was appropriate...to see you letting loose with your friends, the same day you chose to wear your hair free...”

He came to a stop, and Carewyn stopped too, turning around to face him properly. Orion reached out his hand and -- very tentatively -- took hers, holding it between their chests like a gentleman.

“...You should be allowed to feel like that more often,” Orion murmured. “Free.”

Carewyn scanned Orion’s face, her eyes lingering on his before dipping into the corners of lips. Orion felt his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He wanted to kiss her hand, but...did he dare?

“She’s not on your team.”

“You reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?

“Mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

It was just too much. Orion couldn’t think, whenever his thoughts got too loud. Closing his eyes, he took several deep, measured breaths. Only once he’d brought his heart rate down did he open his eyes again.

“I should go,” he said at last, his voice coming out much more calmly than he felt.

His eyes flickered down to his hand holding hers again, but he’d already lost his nerve. He released her hand, even though his hand felt like it had chilled as soon as the contact was broken.

“...Good night, Carewyn.”

He turned to go.

“Orion.”

Carewyn’s hand enclosed over his. Orion stiffened, his heart pounding full-force once more, and he turned back around to face her, just as she raised his hand up to her own lips and placed a gentle kiss to the back of it.

Orion stared. She raised her head with a smile, releasing Orion’s hand with a kind of muted confidence even despite the pinkness of her cheeks.

“Until we meet again, Mr. Freeman.”

With this, she picked up her skirts and darted away up the street, in the direction of the palace.

Orion stared after her. He stared long after she was out of sight, his galaxy-like black eyes staring at the swirling snow without even seeing it. He tentatively took his own hand, trailing his thumb over the place her lips had grazed...and despite all judgment, despite all rational thought, he found his lips turning up in a smile of their own accord. He’d never felt so light and so off-balance in all his life -- was this what it felt like, to glide on a bird’s wings? And yet he knew, despite the weightlessness he felt, it was instead indicative that he’d fallen.

In the midst of using her to get intelligence about her kingdom...in the midst of him following the strategy he’d laid out to get the end of the War he wanted, by learning their weak points and using them to soften others to him...Prince Cosimo Orion Amari, heir to the throne of Florence, had fallen head over heels in love.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #my art #my writing #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #andre egwu #bill weasley #charlie weasley #ginny weasley #ron weasley #katriona cassiopeia #erika rath #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #GAAAAAAH #I am so friggin' happy right now #the drawing was tricky but I'm actually kind of happy with it!#carewyn could sense orion's shyness and decided to give the poor guy a hand :3 #she probably isn't as aware of how deep her feelings are yet as orion is but she is very fond of him #that'll be made clearer in the next part #also andre I friggin' adore you ;~;#in carewyn's canon she and andre actually dated briefly at school XDD #but they ultimately broke up because they needed something different in a relationship #andre isn't really as feelsy and sensitive as carewyn and as stoic as she is she honestly does appreciate sensitivity #andre's the sort to push carewyn's more perfectionistic instincts not help her chill the f*** out like orion can #but they still make great friends <33

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alectoperdita · 4 years ago

Text

Fictober - Day 1

prompt: "no, come back!" fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters pairing: Jounouchi Katsuya/Kaiba Seto rating: T warnings: none a/n: ficlet for the Side Deck Universe | November 2013 Jounouchi beta-tests what Kaiba hopes will be his company's next big product. No, this isn't just a ploy to trick his boyfriend into accepting an expensive gift.

"This is so cool," Jounouchi gushed. He flipped the device over to admire the back cover's pearly blue finish, a proprietary tint they had named "Ultimate Blue" for launch. As he tilted it back and forth, the KC logo in the center shimmered with a holographic shimmer when it caught the light.

Straight-backed, Kaiba resisted the urge to preen. Cool was precisely the impression they were aiming for. He slipped an arm around his boyfriend's shoulder and leaned closer. So he could better gauge Jounouchi's reactions and feedback as they tried the product, of course.

"Well," prompted Kaiba impatiently. "Are you going to gawk at it all day long or turn it on?"

In response, Jounouchi butted his shoulder against Kaiba, but he didn't throw off Kaiba's arm or wiggle away. It took him a few seconds to locate the power button on the side. As he powered on the device, the KC logo stayed on screen for several seconds before the home screen replaced it. Much like the phone's shell, blues and whites made up most of the OS's default color scheme.

Jounouchi peered up at him. His teasing smile was wide and unbearably bright. "So this is the big secret project you couldn't say anything about? A phone?"

He bristled. "Smartphone adoption rate is less than 50% around the world. It's a market with huge growth opportunities."

"So time to take on Steve Jobs it is," laughed Jounouchi. He looked down at the phone screen again and idly poked at a random icon to open the calendar app. "I dunno how useful a beta-tester I'm gonna be with this thing. The only time I even touch a smartphone is to steal yours to play Puzzle & Dragons."

"Our main target demographic is first-time smartphone owners, which is exactly what you are." Kaiba reached over and jabbed the home button before pulling up the app drawer, which included the icon for the game he'd preloaded for Jounouchi. "And now you can drain your batteries instead of mine."

"Sweet!" Jounouchi exclaimed and immediately opened the app to start playing.

The game's tinny music filled the room as Kaiba sat back and watched his boyfriend swipe colorful blocks into matched sets, attacking equally colorful monsters. Over time, Jounouchi sank further and further in his couch and against Kaiba as he became comfortably engrossed in the game.

Kaiba still remembered when Jounouchi had first begged him to download the game for him to try after learning about a Duel Monsters collaboration. He subsequently lost access to his phone for an entire evening as Jounouchi did everything in his power short of paying real money to pull a Red-Eyes Black Dragon. Ironically, and to Kaiba's annoyance, he pulled Kaiba's signature monster instead. Now the digital Blue-Eyes served as the ace monster in Jounouchi's otherwise rag-tag team.

Halfway through his energy meter, Jounouchi came back to himself. "Shit, sorry, man. You didn't give me this phone just so I could waste your time playing games."

Actually, that was why he'd asked his boyfriend to "product test" for him. The phone was three weeks away from launch. All the requisite QA and beta-testing had been completed months ago. Jounouchi was getting one at the same time that tech and gadget reviewers worldwide were receiving their review copies.

It was time, though, for Jounouchi to upgrade and join the rest of the twenty-first century. His old flip-phone had served him faithfully since before they embarked on their relationship. It had been dropped and kicked and had untold amounts of food and liquids spilled on it. It continued to function as a testament to its sturdiness.

Kaiba had offered to help him upgrade several times, but Jounouchi's reticence about receiving gifts from Kaiba persisted. It was one of the few things they continued to argue and butt heads over at this point in their relationship. Jounouchi couldn't shake the notion that it was taking advantage of Kaiba, and Kaiba resented not being allowed to do things for someone he cared about.

Which now led to Kaiba tricking his boyfriend into taking a gift under the flimsiest pretense.

Carefully wearing a neutral expression, Kaiba shrugged. "You can do whatever you want with it. It's also yours to keep after testing. I can't exactly take it back to resell."

"Huh, yeah, I guess that makes sense. Okay, fine, let's get down to work. You're gonna have to show me around, though."

Kaiba smiled triumphantly and extended a hand. "May I?"

Jounouchi passed over the phone, and Kaiba launched into a brief walkthrough. Like any other device produced by his company, Kaiba could rattle off the specs in his sleep, starting with screen size, pixel density, and CPU and GPU processor power, none of which meant much to a first-time smartphone owner who had nothing to compare with. Still, Jounouchi listened without complaint as he settled against Kaiba and rested his head on his shoulder.

But when Kaiba got to the camera, Jounouchi's interest piqued. His boyfriend sat up and snatched the phone out of his hand. "I know the perfect way to test this feature."

"How so?"

"By taking a picture with you, duh!"

Immediately, Kaiba withdrew his arm and started to slide away.

Jounouchi grabbed and caught him in a pseudo-chokehold around his neck. "No, come back!" he protested. "Just one picture!"

Kaiba ran through the possible outcomes in his head. He could break Jounouchi's hold, which would initiate a physical contest that would either end in bruised egos or a compromising situation for his poor brother to walk in on. Either way, there was a high likelihood that the phone he'd finally convinced Jounouchi into accepting would end up smashed or broken.

Or he could acquiesce to this one small request from his boyfriend and preserve their evening together.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But if this ends up on social media, I will hunt you down."

"God, you're such a fucking drama queen. It'll never leave this phone, I swear. No one will ever see your candid pic."

Kaiba growled, "It's called image management."

"No, you're just a prima donna," replied Jounouchi. He kept one arm firmly around Kaiba's neck as he fumbled one-handedly to bring up the camera app and switch to the front-facing camera. "Now, smile!"

The phone made a shutter noise before Kaiba could even fix his gaze forward at the lens. The resulting image, unsurprisingly, came out a mess.

"It's blurry," Jounouchi said with a furrowed brow.

"That's because you have to focus first. Give me that."

The phone changed hands again, and Kaiba deftly deleted the previous image. Using his long arm, he hefted the phone at a suitable distance for the lens to focus under the current lighting conditions. Then he tapped the screen to demonstrate how to manually trigger the focus function. "See?"

Jounouchi's image on the screen, which was pressed almost cheek-to-cheek with his, beamed. "Perfect. Now hit the button, Kaiba."

"On the count of three," muttered Kaiba, careful to not jostle the angle with his speech. His finger hovered over the shutter button. "One. Two. Three."

In that split second, Jounouchi took hold of his face and turned it to crash their lips together. Kaiba gasped, and his thumb pressed the button. There was a shutter noise. The kiss lasted for maybe a full second before Jounouchi drew away with a smug grin and mischievous eyes. While Kaiba was still stunned, Jounouchi reclaimed his phone to review the photo, quickly breaking out in fits of laughter.

"Oh my god, this is amazing!"

That finally knocked Kaiba out of his stupor. Surging forward, he caught Jounouchi's wrist and yanked the phone close. The photo he took showed him wide-eyed and brows raised in shock. He might have even been slack-jawed if Jounouchi's lips had not been locked with his. In a word, he looked ridiculous.

He reached for the delete button.

But Jounouchi wasn't as technologically dumb as he claimed. Or he knew Kaiba too well now. His boyfriend broke free of his grip and slithered away, clutching his prize to his chest. "No, that's a fucking keeper."

"Delete that right now!" growled Kaiba as he tried to close the distance.

Jounouchi hefted the device over his head in a vain attempt to keep it out of his reach. "Bite me, Kaiba."

He pounced and knocked Jounouchi to the floor, sending the new phone skidding across the floor. To keep Kaiba from his goal, Jounouchi pinned him to the ground and heatedly kissed him again. A master class in distraction, Kaiba hated to admit, and one that worked well. He wove his fingers into Jounouchi's hand and held him tight to his chest.

Good thing Kaiba preemptively reinforced the device's frame on account of being well-acquainted with his boyfriend's somewhat clumsy nature. There wasn't even a scratch on the screen when they finally picked it up again much, much later.

Check out other puppy/violetshipping ficlets I’m writing all #fictober20 long

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

And because I did research into smartphone user adoption rates that I didn’t even use in this fic, you get to see the references. It’s actually quite commiserate with US smartphone adoption rates during the same period.

https://www.dentsu.co.jp/en/news/ideas/japanese_people_and_smartphones.html

#fictober20 #violetshipping #puppyshipping #kaijou #fic: Side Deck #my fanfiction #yugioh #whelp it begins #wish me luck in this marathon

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

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do u have a fic list of BAMF john getting kidnapped?

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, I’ve quite a few Kidnapping fics!

Kidnapping, Hostage, & Stalking

Kidnapping, Hostage & Stalking Pt. 2

KIDNAPPING, HOSTAGE & STALKING Pt. 3

Booted by Sexxica (E, 1,175 w., 1 Ch. || Trapped, Kidnapping, Handcuffs, Biting Kink, Blow Jobs, Coming in Pants, Tight Spaces, Humour, Smut, 69 Sex Position, BJ’s Through Pants) – John and Sherlock have been kidnapped, handcuffed, and stuffed together in a car boot. How come they can never take these situations seriously? Part 3 of the Tumblr Ficlets Gone Wild

Imminent by LoyalPaddler (K+, 1,187 w., 1 Ch. || Kidnapping, Open Ending) – What did it say about a person if he recognized the feeling of waking up concussed, blindfolded, and handcuffed to a chair? Probably not good, that.

Coming Full Circle by KCS (K+, 2,358 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate TGG, Friendship, Drama, Violence/Death References, Drugging/Poisoning, Kidnapping, BAMF John, Moriarty POV, Introspection) – Moriarty had John for almost six hours between his abduction and the showdown at the pool - more than enough time to implement a Plan B for his escape should Sherlock call his bluff with the fake bomb vest.

The Hours Before Midnight by Lady Sam Mallory (T, 7,773 w., 1 Ch. || TGG Fic, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture / John Whump, Kidnapping, Drugging, Alternating POV, Worried / Protective Sherlock) – Moriarty doesn't play fair. John must deal with hours of torment from Moriarty before going to meet Sherlock at the Pool at the end of the Great Game and Sherlock must deal with the consequences of his boredom.

Victim, Bait, Hero, Friend by KimberlyTheOwl (T, 7,887 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG Epilogue, Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Past Kidnapping / Torture / Implied Rape, Panic Attacks, Worried / Possessive Sherlock, Lestrade is a Good Friend) – Some insights into why John was perfectly willing to throw everything away for a chance to kill Moriarty at the pool. Trauma, ugliness, and finally healing. Some nice supporting work by Lestrade as well.

The Five Stages of Mourning, Plus One by SunnyRea (T, 10,557 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, Pining / Grieving Sherlock, URT, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Drug Use, Graphic Death, Depression, Unhappy Ending) – Sherlock did not want this, did not want another stalemate with John in the middle, a gun in Jim's hand. This cannot have happened without a sign. There has to be something he missed anything which said today is the day I kill for real.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Between Friends by SilentAuror (E, 18,036 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, Alternating POV, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Abduction, Awkward Situations / Miscommunications, Porn With Feels, Blowjobs, Pining, Unrequited, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock gets abducted. As John discovers him tied up naked in an empty storage facility and comes to rescue him, Sherlock's body has an unfortunate reaction which triggers a series of events. John is convinced that everything will be fine as long as they never discuss it. Sherlock isn't as sure...

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w., 9 Ch. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU || Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w., 27 Ch. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller, Switchlock, Rimming, Emotional Lovemaking, Lots of Sex, HJ/BJ’s) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch.|| Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #kidnapping fics #bamf john #Anonymous #my fic recs #fic rec sunday

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notalittlebutalottie · 5 years ago

Note

drabble request: Established future Kc fluff

Hey, thank you for the request! Very much appreciated and it was so fun to write something so fluffy!

♥♥♥ KLAROLINE DRABBLE REQUEST #2: Paint Me Any Colour ♥♥♥

Caroline grumbled as the stream of light peeking through the curtains landed on her eye. Running a hand down her face, she gave into the start of the day by sitting up in the king-sized bed. As expected, she was alone in bed, Klaus’ side already made, making her look like the most unproductive person in the world. She couldn’t help that she was more of a night person; it was a wonder that she even started waking up at ten a.m., but Klaus’ presence had her syncing to his schedule.

She sighed appreciatively at the sight of a single black coffee on the nightstand and as she blew her messy blonde curls away, she wrapped her fingers around the warm mug. That devil. Somehow, he always knew when she would be waking up, her coffee always just at the right temperature. If he turned out to be a witch, that would be no surprise, but she feared that being a wolf-vampire hybrid and a witch would go to his head.

Caroline sunk her feet into her fluffy pink slippers, dragging her feet slowly along into the opened up kitchen-living space of their apartment. The hallway was lined with framed pictures of them from various trips around the world, something she had to convince Klaus would be a cute decoration. Despite his willingness to give everything up for her, that man had a problem with being sentimental.

Getting people on board with their relationship was a struggle but getting herself on board with it was half of the battle. She was ever-paranoid that his lust over her would be over the minute she gave in to his persistent seduction, but he seemed adamant to prove that it wasn’t the case. Four years later, they were reaching their second anniversary of living together in New Orleans.

She hummed into her coffee mug, content with the view she found in the living area: a shirtless, paint splattered Klaus with one brush in his hand and another trapped between his teeth. Leaning against the kitchen counter, she allowed her eyes to roam all over the masterpiece before her. Of course, the one thing he kept on was his jewellery.

“It’s rude to stare,” he stated promptly after removing the brush from his mouth, his eyes glued to the canvas before him.

With a lazy laugh, Caroline sauntered across to meet him at his art station, slouching into the red loveseat he had set up for her. She had argued that if she needed to sit, his lap was a fine alternative but despite his amusement, he insisted on a chair, though she knew he enjoyed her distractions.

“I wasn’t,” she pouted, her eyes refusing to abandon their current view. “Besides,” she propped her feet onto the couch, “I was deprived of a morning wake up call. I think I deserve some eye-candy.”

He chuckled, applying strokes of red to the canvas with a slow ease. “My apologies, love. I had a sudden stroke of inspiration.”

She took another sip, raising her eyebrow. “Well, maybe I should find someone else. I hear Marcel is on the market,” she muttered playfully into her mug.

Klaus finally took his eyes off of his work, his lips pressing into a grin. “Is that so?”

Caroline kept eye-contact and batted her lashes as she downed the rest of her coffee before slamming the mug on a nearby surface.

Holding back a laugh, Klaus swivelled his chair to face her and before she knew it, he was hovering above her and had her pressed back against the cushions.

“Care to repeat that, sweetheart?”

With a soft laugh, she stared up at him and bit her lip. “I just said that, since you’re so unavailable, maybe--”

With that, he began pecking various spots of her face, earning a fit of giggles from her. His arms were holding him up as his hands rested either side of her face, his left hand clenching a paintbrush.

Her nose scrunched up, her smile wide as she attempted to continue, “Maybe I--”

He pressed more kisses over her skin between each of her words.

“Should. Find. Someone. Else,” she squeaked, giggling more as he resigned himself to trailing kisses along her neck. “Klaus!”

Klaus chuckled against her skin, the vibrations doing nothing for the heat rising in her cheeks or stomach.

“Terribly sorry, but I’m not sure I caught that. You have to speak up, love,” he mumbled against her jawline.

Caroline whimpered softly, tugging him by his cross necklace in order to kiss him directly on the lips.

“I suddenly forgot. Oops,” she muttered against his generous kisses.

He breathed out his amusement, pulling away despite her immediate puppy eyes.

“I must get back to painting.”

“You can paint me,” she replied, attempting to lower her voice seductively.

With that stupid, smug smirk of his, he nodded in obligation, swiftly running the paint brush down from her forehead to her chin.

“I’m gonna kill you,” she whispered incredulously, biting back her smile.

#klaroline fanfiction #klaroline #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #the vampire diaries #the originals #drabble

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princess-of-the-worlds · 5 years ago

Text

we're all stories, in the end

For Day Four of Klaroline AU Week 2019: Mates

Happy KC AU Week! @klaroline-events

Now, this is a different take on the Mates trope and may have just been my excuse to write a Doctor Who AU, but once I got the idea in my head, I couldn’t drop it.

***

ao3 link: here

word count: 4882

summary: Walking down the aisle on her wedding day, Caroline finds herself suddenly transported aboard a strange blue police box with an eccentric man who calls himself the Doctor, and then everything Caroline's ever known turns upside down. One year later, after Caroline has chased him all over London, the Doctor returns and offers to show her the stars, the universe, all of time and space itself.

***

“I just want a mate,” the Doctor says, finishing off his rattling plea to invite Caroline to travel with him on his blue police box of a TARDIS that she still can’t believe. He glances up at her with those stormy eyes that are simultaneously a maniac intense but also unbelievably sad.

I want to mate is what Caroline, high on adrenaline, shock, and relief from the last ten minutes, hears.

Her eyebrows raise in alarm, and quickly, she takes a step back, retreating further inside the safety of the TARDIS. “You’re not mating with me, sunshine!” she calls back, voice rising several octaves in panic until even she winces from her own shrillness. She keeps a steady eye on the Doctor.

The Doctor balks, a flare of something unreadable running through those sad eyes. “A mate,” he clarifies far too quickly. “I just want a mate. A friend.” He presses his lips together so tightly that they turn white.

Lifting her head high in the air, brushing blond curls over her shoulder, she tells him, “Well, just as well. I’m not having any of that nonsense.” She sniffs, keeping her tone light and good-natured. “I have a strict no-aliens rule.”

“There we are, then,” the Doctor retorts, smirking slightly. He seems to not have taken offense at Caroline’s response. “Okay.”

“I can come then?” she asks, straightening up. She hopes too much of her excitement hasn’t leaked into her tone.

“Yeah. Of course,” he tells her. “Course you can. I’d love that.”

***

Let’s back up a minute.

It’s two years ago, and it’s supposed to be the happiest day of Caroline Forbes’s life. She’s getting married to Matt Donovan, the head of HR and the only other American in the firm where she worked as a temp. On her first day, he brought her coffee, and she’s been in love ever since.

One minute, she’s walking down the wedding aisle, the lace of her veil drifting behind her as she beams at Matt and the guests, and the next, she’s on a battered-looking spaceship with a drawling Brit dressed like a hipster who waves around a silver stick he calls a sonic screwdriver when he’s not smirking cockily.

He brings her to her wedding, but she’s missed the actual ceremony, and her friends and Matt have gone on to the reception without her. Then Caroline, Matt, and the man who insists on being called the Doctor are racing to the firm.

Suddenly, there’s a giant spider-alien-creature the Doctor calls the Empress of the Racnoss, and turns out Matt is not who she thought he was.

“He’s been poisoning you,” the Doctor tells her, and though she practically just met him, she quivers at the kindness in his tone and eyes. “With the coffees. One every day.”

“No, no, no, no,” Caroline says numbly, shaking her head in denial. “That can’t be true.” But nonetheless, she watches mutely as a smirking Matt steps towards the Empress. “Tell me it’s not true, Matt.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “God, she’s so thick,” he tells the Doctor, ignoring Caroline’s pleas. “Months I’ve had to put up with her. Months!” He throws his hands up in frustration. “She’ll keep talking and talking your head off. I think I’ve lost years off my life trying to figure out how to shut her up.”

Whimpering, Caroline stumbles backwards, vision starting to blur from the tears that burn her eyes. Dazed, she can’t even acknowledge the Empress, instead pressing into the Doctor’s side who reaches out to steady her. “No, no, no, no.”

The coffee Matt brought on her first day of work. She thought it was him being kind to the uncertain new temp. It was him setting the first step of his plan in motion.

“There were particles in the coffee, Huon energy particles,” the Doctor murmurs to her. “Matt and the Empress probably intended to use you as some kind of beacon for a portal to their home world. Instead, when they activated those particles, you were drawn to the nearest source of those particles, which happened to be the TARDIS.”

The Empress hisses. “But now, you are here,” she snarls. “We will use you to open the portal and bring my children through. We will rule this desolate world of yours.”

“And I will be by your side as your consort,” Matt says, stepping forward to gaze adoringly at the Empress. He smiles at her. “It will be as everything was intended to be. You, my Empress, and your children. We will be together.”

Rearing on her feet, the Empress laughs, high and cold. “Oh, you foolish human. You were never by my side. You were always a pawn.” And with a careless swipe of her one of her eight legs, she knocks Matt off the platform, and he tumbles down to the ground with a single scream, neck snapping with a sickening snap.

Everything blurs around Caroline. Still reeling from the heartbreak and Matt’s betrayal, Caroline can barely process the blasts from the bombs the Doctor planted around the room until the Empress’s screaming reaches her ears.

Amongst the fire and chaos, dirty water from the Thames flooding in and staining Caroline’s wedding dress, she sees the first streak of a darker side to the Doctor. The same man who made sarcastic remarks and name-dropped figures from Caroline’s old history textbooks while hailing her a cab has his lips set into a harsh line, eyes glinting cruelly as he watches the Empress’s spider children drown and die. The Empress’s pained screeches reach a higher pitch.

“Doctor,” Caroline cries, and the man jerks like a marionette whose strings have been cut, “you can stop now!”

The Doctor’s handsome features contort in terror, but there is no time for his moral crisis. He and Caroline are darting into the TARDIS as the building explodes behind them.

When they arrive outside Caroline’s apartment building, she stumbles out of the impossible police box, hair in disarray and expensive gown undeniably ruined. The Doctor invites her to travel with him, but heart weighing heavy with sorrow and exhausted to the point of collapse, she declines.

“Don’t travel alone,” she tells him. “Find someone. I think sometimes you need someone to stop you.” She hates to think of what this handsome stranger who whizzes through the universe in his bigger-on-the-inside box could be capable of on a bad day.

Once Caroline’s had time to process the events of what was supposed to be her wedding day, she tries to move on. She gets another temp job but quits her second month. She tries to travel through Egypt, but the structure of the tour she’s booked drains her enthusiasm. Finally, under the worried and anxious gazes of her friends who still don’t know what truly happened, she begins dating another American friend, a dark-haired sarcastic man named Tyler. She is happy briefly, even if she expects everything Tyler to say to be said in an English accent and to reference events before her birth and worlds beyond her own.

A year passes, and with everything still inexplicably unstable in her life, Caroline regrets telling the Doctor no. She begins to drive across London and nearby towns, following stories and sightings of the strangest things, trying to find him. If one day with the Doctor was as chaotic as it had been, he’s bound to pop around eventually, and Caroline actually manages to help some of the people she meets.

The months fly by, and she devotes herself to her search for the Doctor.

“I feel like I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Tyler tells her after they’ve been dating for eight months. “You’re always running, and no one in your life seems to know what you’re looking for.”

He breaks up with her two months later, and she doesn’t get the chance to tell him who she was looking for, not what.

Then she finds the Doctor.

***

They start off slow, at least according to the Doctor. He takes her to a Viking village at least a thousand years before she will be born. There’s a giant wolf the Doctor claims to be an alien roaming through the woods and preying on villagers; they arrive in the aftermath of the wolf-alien’s latest victim - a young boy named Henrik, a death which they learn about upon stumbling into his elder sister.

She comes out of nowhere with an angry roar. One moment the Doctor and Caroline are kneeling down besides a patch of grass, studying the trampled grass and torn tree roots as the Doctor scans them with his sonic screwdriver.

The next moment, the Doctor is pinned against a tree, Caroline hesitantly behind his side, as they gaze back at their attacker, stunned.

“Name yourself,” the girl says fiercely, her eyes - sharing the same stormy intensity as the Doctor’s - not wavering from. She leans forward, the blade of her sword pressing further into the sensitive skin of the Doctor’s throat. “Name yourself and your companion, and drop your weapon.”

Despite wanting to protest her title as the Doctor’s companion, Caroline gulps nervously. She eyes the girl; she doesn’t think that the Doctor being alien will prevent him from dying via a slit throat.

“Oi!” The Doctor’s own gaze travels from the girl’s sword to his sonic screwdriver, held adjacent to his side and still glowing. “It’s not a weapon. It’s a sonic screwdriver.” He sighs. “It’s a tool.”

“I don’t think she cares about that, Doctor,” Caroline hisses to him. Glancing back at the girl, she attempts a kind smile. “I apologize for my friend. His name is the Doctor. My name is Caroline. Have you seen a giant wolf around?” Her smile widens.

Finally dropping his screwdriver and slipping it back in his pocket as the girl shifts her grip on her sword, the Doctor rolls his eyes. “It’s not a wolf. It’s a-”

“For her and everyone else who wouldn’t understand you being a time-travelling alien, it’s a wolf.” Caroline sighs, turning back to the girl who has lowered her blade, watching them in bewilderment but also suspicion. “What’s your name?”

“Rebekah,” she replies, ever so cautious. “Have you been hunting the beast? The wolf that slaughtered my brother into pieces?”

Caroline finally gets a good glance at Rebekah as the girl slips the sword through the sheath hanging by her side. She can’t be older than seventeen with sharp cheekbones, a wide forehead, and hair - several shades lighter than Caroline’s - braided back, but those eyes - with their strange resemblance to the Doctor’s in both color and hauntedness, her sword, and her stained dress say otherwise. This is a girl accustomed to violence and war, and Caroline wonders what she’ll do when she finds her beast.

“Yes,” the Doctor tells her. “Well…we aren’t so much hunting him as we are looking for him, but we’ll help you find him.”

As they follow Rebekah further into the woods, Caroline turns to the Doctor. “Do you usually agree to help strangers in the woods who hold swords to your throat?” She bites her lip. “Is that how you get into half the trouble you’ve told me about?”

“Look at her,” the Doctor hisses back. “She’s a child. She’s frightened. She failed in her duty to protect her brother, and she doesn’t want the same to happen to her family and village.”

He couldn’t just stand there and watch children cry, Caroline realizes, but that’s the last rational thought she’s able to have for a while, because it turns out the wolf-alien that they’ve been hunting has been hunting them instead, and suddenly, they’re sprinting through the trees, a maniac smile stuck to the Doctor’s lips. It seems that this is everyday for the Doctor, because they’d been running on her wedding day too, at a pace too unreasonable for a girl wearing a silk gown and heels.

Under the Doctor’s guidance, Rebekah and a few of her villager friends manage to lure the wolf into a giant pit using some raw meat, Caroline failing to see what makes this wolf alien through all his wolfiness. Then the Doctor, using his sonic screwdriver, identifies it as an escaped creature from a planet half-way across the universe.

He frowns. “It shouldn’t be here,” he says as he uses his screwdriver to scan the wolf’s paw prints surrounding the pit. Turning to Caroline, he presses his lips together. “From what I can trace, it came to Earth via a crashed spaceship and lay dormant until something awoke it recently.”

But they don’t have time to figure it out, because quickly, the wolf is leaping forward from its prison, tearing several of Rebekah’s friends with its claws. Then it lunges forward for the Doctor, and someone screams.

It might be Rebekah or it might be Caroline, but next, there’s a mighty howl. When the chaos and dust clears, the wolf lays dead, a sword driven through its belly. The Doctor, a man who Caroline has heard preach pacifism and mercy, doesn’t protest at the beast’s fate, because he’s busy on his knees, bowed forward.

Bewildered, Caroline only has to step forward to realize that he’s cradling Rebekah’s body, her front stained with blood and mangled, though the Doctor shields the on-lookers from seeing the worst of the damage.

“Why did you do that, you stupid girl?” he asks Rebekah, voice low and thick with emotion. His face is wan, his expression strangled and tight. “Why did you do that, Bekah? You had so much life to live. I’m a stupid old man. I’ve lived long enough; I have life to spare. Why did you step in front of me?”

“I had to protect someone,” Rebekah rasps, eyes going glassy. There is a harsh gurgle deep in her chest as she coughs, blood staining the corners of her mouth. “I couldn’t protect Henrik, but I could save you.”

“You were brave, Rebekah,” the Doctor tells the girl, a suspicious wet sheen to his eyes. “That’s the trait of all elder sisters. They will always be brave for their younger siblings.” He sniffles. “To be brave...it’s a rule I swear by. To never be cruel, to never be cowardly, and above all, to never eat pears.”

“What’s a pear?” Rebekah attempts to ask, but her question only ends in a bloody gurgle.

“Hush.” The Doctor pulls her body closer to him, hugging Rebekah to her chest. Soothingly, he brushes hair, dark and sticky, from her forehead. “It’s a nasty fruit. You would never like it.”

Tears rolling down her cheeks, Caroline laughs wetly, stepping closer to the Doctor. She kneels down and places a hand on his shoulder, and he glances up in acknowledgment. “He’s right,” Caroline tells Rebekah. “You were brave. If I had one ounce of your courage when I was your age, I could have made more of my life.”

“Thank you.” The light in Rebekah’s eyes is quickly disappearing into darkness, but she presses her lips into a faint smile. “Keep travelling for me, Doctor and his dear Caroline. Save more lives. Help save other sisters and their younger brothers.”

***

They stay for the funeral.

Rebekah’s father, a stocky man with her fine blond hair, gifts them small wooden horses she carved and refuses to take them back despite Caroline’s protests.

When the ceremony is over, the Doctor and Caroline take their farewells and walk back through the woods to the TARDIS. Caroline keeps eyeing the Doctor whose gaze has been distant for several hours now. Just as she intends to ask if he’s alright, her feet stumble to a stop, and she gasps loudly.

Immediately, the Doctor stiffens, jumping into a defensive stance as his hand flies to his sonic screwdriver. “What’s wrong?” he asks. He glances at Caroline who has gone pale.

Raising a shaky hand, Caroline points to the familiar river that can be seen through the gap in the trees. Abruptly, she realizes that she recognizes these patches of woods, the structure of some of this land. It’s a thousand years too early to tell for sure, but Caroline can be nearly certain that in nine-hundred-and-ninety years, she and Elena and Bonnie will run through these trees as children.

“This is my home,” she whispers. “Or at least it will be.”

The Doctor’s brow furrows. “I don’t get it.”

“I grew up here,” Caroline says, gesturing wildly to the trees all around her. “I’ve played in these woods.” She nods towards the river. “There’s not a bridge there right now, but in a thousand years, there will be. My friend’s car will skid across the bridge and fall into the river, and her parents will drown.” She shudders. “This will be my home. Mystic Falls, Virginia.”

Head tilted, the Doctor listens intently. When Caroline’s finished, he lifts his sonic screwdriver to scan the air. He hums. “You’re right,” he tells her. “This will be Mystic Falls. In a thousand years.” He sneaks a glance at Caroline. “Are you alright?”

Everything is suddenly too much for her to process right now, too loud, too bright, too chaotic. She shudders again. “Can we get back to the TARDIS?” she asks.

And if, once they return to the TARDIS, she breaks down, crying both out of confusion and for Rebekah, the Doctor doesn’t mention it.

***

After that eventful and emotional first trip, the Doctor tries again, and they visit London in 1953 for Queen Elizabeth’s coronation. The Doctor changes out of his trademark Henley, paint-stained jeans, and dusty combat boots and into a sharp suit, and Caroline tries a pretty dress with a swing skirt on for size.

The Doctor insists on keeping his sonic screwdriver and something he calls psychic paper however.

Their night is joyful as they watch the grainy image of the young queen on an old television set. Then someone brings out a bottle of champagne and small snacks. Caroline gets tipsy and dances with the Doctor to music her grandfather must have liked, and there’s too many Union Jacks everywhere. At some point, there’s an odd explosion of electrical sparks in the nighttime sky that someone claims is from a local television station. The Doctor eyes it suspiciously but says nothing, even when a man runs by and screams about televisions stealing faces.

It’s a wonderful experience, but when Caroline and the Doctor walk down the street to the TARDIS, hands interlinked and swinging together, Caroline can’t keep her thoughts from drifting to Rebekah. A sudden stab of sadness runs through her.

“How do you deal with it so well?” she asks, and when he looks at her for clarification, she sighs. “With death, I mean? I can’t stop thinking of Rebekah, of how much live she had left to live.”

The Doctor shrugs. “Would you believe that I’m used to it? That I’m older than I look?”

“Doctor,” Caroline says more seriously, and he turns to face her, lips quirked into a strange melancholic smile.

“I have seen much of death,” he tells her. “I have stepped hand-in-hand, side-by-side with it. No one can ever become accustomed to death, not when it is such a terrible thing.” Now, he sighs. “Yet I have seen thousands and thousands of people, and I have seen many of them die, some tragically, some at peace and surrounded by loved ones. Yes, it hurts when someone is taken before their time, but that’s life.” His smile becomes bitter. “I try to save as many lives as I can, but I don’t always succeed.”

Caroline blinks, taken aback. There is no simple response to what the Doctor has admitted. Finally, she nods. “You weren’t lying when you told Rebekah that you’re a stupid old man.”

“Pardon?” He gazes at her, bewildered.

“Even if you don’t always succeed, the fact that you try is enough,” she says faintly. “We must keep trying to save lives. For Rebekah, we must try to be brave.”

The Doctor stops in his tracks and gapes slightly at her. “You humans,” he breathes out in amazement. “There is so much potential to all of you. So much hope, so much love. That’s why I adore your species.” He laughs. “You are a shining beacon of humanity. You, Caroline Forbes, you’re strong, beautiful, full of light. I chose you well as a companion.”

“Hey,” Caroline retorts. “You didn’t choose anyone, buddy. I travelled across the city looking for you. I chose you.”

“Fair enough.”

***

“Why did you have to refer to the Sontarans as a bunch of potato-heads?” the Doctor hisses, frustration leaking into his tone, ducked down behind a door frame as blasts of plasma fly over their head. “Now they won’t stop shooting at us!”

On the other side of the door frame, Caroline spreads her hands helplessly, wincing as the movement puts pressure on her aching knees and feet. They’ve run far more than expected this trip, even for the Doctor and Caroline’s standards, and her flats were not a good choice for today. “Because that’s what they look like!” She sighs. “It was a joke. How was I to know that they weren’t a humorous bunch?”

The Doctor, poised with his sonic screwdriver by his side, facepalms. “The Sontarans are clone warriors. They’ll take anything as a declaration of war.” He shifts in his crouch, peering around the door frame, only to jerk back suddenly when plasma blasts part of the wall into rubble mere inches from where his head had been. “Oi,” he says to himself. “That could have been my nose.” Then he turns his maniac gaze back to Caroline, and she anxiously notices that despite the flurry of emotions in his eyes, fury is not one of them. He doesn’t truly seem to blame her, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing, “It’s rule number one. Don’t insult the aliens.”

“You’re an alien!” Caroline retorts. “Besides, you said rule one was don’t wander off. And you’re the one who went to view a historical exhibit and left me alone.” She affects an English accent and drops her voice several octaves, “Three moons and pink seas! It’s perfect for a visit to your first planet, love.” She returns to her normal voice. “You didn’t mention the warrior potatoes.”

“Stop calling them potatoes, love,” the Doctor says, but now, he’s rolling his eyes. “Besides, that’s not what I sound like.” He glances over the Sontarans who are quickly settling into battle formation. “Caroline.”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“One more thing...run!”

When they finally stumble into the TARDIS, Caroline moves to barricade the doors, and the Doctor dives for the console, throwing various switches and pulling several levers until the familiar whoorp-whoorp sound of the ship is heard as she dematerializes.

“Next time,” Caroline says, panting as she settles against the railing and turns to face the Doctor, “we’re just staying on Earth.”

“Hey,” the Doctor says, pouting, eyes alit with frantic energy, “that was just one planet. And that’s not to say that Earth isn’t plenty danger. In fact, there was this one time Robin Hood-”

“Dared you to a duel and you fought back with a spoon?” Caroline asks, cocking an eyebrow. “You keep forgetting that you don’t need to tell that story. I was there.”

The Doctor scratches at his chin. Caroline doesn’t know how often aliens need to shave, because he’s been growing a bit of a stubbly shadow. She likes it; she thinks it makes him look more dashing, but she won’t ever tell him that. “I could have sworn it was with Cami…” he murmurs to himself.

“Who’s Cami?” Caroline asks curiously. It’s the first she’s heard mention of the name.

He glances up suddenly, face slack. “Just a girl I once knew.” His lips press together tightly. “You would have liked her.”

Then he says no more.

***

They go to a ball in eighteenth century France, and Caroline dances with a prince who takes out to a balcony in Versailles and kisses her below the round full moon.

When she returns to the TARDIS, the Doctor watches her with dark eyes. “Enjoy your time with the prince?” he asks, voice tight.

“Yes,” Caroline replies wistfully, sighing. She doesn’t notice how his jaw tightens. “He was wonderful. Handsome. A real gentleman.” Smiling, she twirls, the blue skirts of her ballgown flaring out wide, still caught up in the romance and the magic of her evening. “Every girl just wants to be told they are beautiful by a prince.” Her smile turns giddy, her eyes widening with excitement. “An actual prince!”

“What,” the Doctor drawls, cocking his eyebrows. “A dashing time-traveller who takes you away in his TARDIS not enough for you?” He reaches over to flip a few switches on the TARDIS console.

Turning to focus her gaze on the Doctor, Caroline giggles, still euphoric. “You didn’t take me dancing,” she teases him, toeing off her elaborate, old-fashioned heels before leaning down to pick them up, dangling them by her side. “Besides, I don’t even think you can dance.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes. “Have you ever bothered asking, love?” He takes a step forward, squaring his shoulders. “I’ll have you know that I can dance better than that prince of yours,” he muses. “One face of mine even won an intergalactic dance competition in the fifty-second century.”

Biting her lip, Caroline doesn’t bother asking about his face comment. The Doctor will often do that, often say odd things about his past like they’re common fact but never elaborate on them. Instead, she grins toothily. “I’m sure you did.”

“We’re still talking about sex, right?”

Caroline blinks slowly. She wasn’t expecting that. “Well, that’s not what the prince and I did, but sure.”

The Doctor chuckles, turning his face upwards. Under the TARDIS lights, with his eyes twinkling with amusement and his lips stretched into a wide smile, he looks incredibly handsome, all the years and shadows stripped away from his face.

Caroline finds her mouth suddenly dry, and she’s forced to look again. Sometimes she can’t stand next to the Doctor, not when her skin prickles and every hair on her body stands on edge. His pure presence burns as bright as time itself.

In all the time Caroline’s been travelling with him, he’s made countless implications about being older than he looks, and not for the first time, she wonders how old he is, how many people - human and otherwise - he’s met and seen die, loved and lost. How many Camis there’d been for him.

She wonders if he’ll ever tell her about Cami, how he met her, what happened to her. Why he was travelling alone when Caroline met him. She’s under no allusions that she was the first companion he ever travelled with like this. She wonders how many of the same places he’s taken her that he took the others.

“You alright?” the Doctor asks abruptly, and Caroline tears her gaze away, blushing fiercely as she ducks her head to look at one of the coral structures that line the TARDIS.

“Never better,” she says, twirling again, bare feet padding against the metal floor. She ignores her growing desire to step towards the Doctor and kiss him.

I could love him, she thinks. I could love him in a way I never have loved anyone before. Not Matt, not Tyler, not even her own parents.

***

He takes her to the beginning of the universe.

They float through the empty blackness in the TARDIS, doors pushed open wide as Caroline and the Doctor cling to either side of the entrance. With wide eyes and legs as weak as a lamb, Caroline watches as sudden light blooms across the darkness.

It’s bright and beautiful, the flare of many colors, too brilliant and flashing for any single shade to be identified. Caroline feels trails of wetness down her cheeks before she realizes that she’s crying silently.

“Is everything alright?” the Doctor asks, reaching his hand out for her. He gently traces fingers over her jaw, cheeks, and temples, brushing a thumb over her lips and wiping away tears. His touch is tender and delicate.

“Yeah,” she gasps, all high-pitched and breathy. “It’s so beautiful. I didn’t expect it to be so beautiful.” She sighs. “I didn’t even expect to be able to see it.”

“We shouldn’t be able to,” the Doctor confesses. “Time is a tangled, complex thing, but we’re lucky today. The TARDIS was actually allowed us to come out here.” He smiles. “She’s taken a liking to you.”

The idea of a sentient ship taking a liking to Caroline used to be a strange concept, something ludicrous, but instead, it warms her heart. She glances down, blushing, and she brushes hair out of her eyes.

Clinging to the edge of the TARDIS entrance, the Doctor extends his reach, careful to keep his grip on the wood. If he lets go, he’ll float off into the newly-created universe and certain death. Instead, he slowly tilts Caroline’s chin and leans down, pressing his lips to hers.

In that moment of their kiss, when it’s just the two of them and space, Caroline’s heart beats slowly, steadily.

Outside the TARDIS, the universe is birthed.

#kcauweek2019 #klaroline #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #klaroline drabble

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purplebenjy · 5 years ago

Text

2005-Part 2

There’s six patients at his next session. Then nine. Then twelve. Dorcas has stopped participating to give up her spot to the thirteenth member, new today, a girl with nails that are bloody stumps and a smile that doesn’t reach her glazed over eyes. She gets her long dirty red hair in the paint and Dorcas has to gently help her tie it back.

RJ had missed last week’s but was back again, sitting determinedly next to a boy who looked maybe a year or two older than him, and twice as nervous. Katie, ever the faithful student, was still remarkably skinny, though Benjy could see a noticeable difference in five weeks of classes. Deena was in her usual spot in the back, but Benjy noticed she was quieter than usual that day, only heckling Benjy twice through his muddled lesson. Their sessions have extended to an hour and a half, so all of them spend the first sixty minutes putting paint on paper. He makes the rounds after that, pausing and smiling big when Rj tugs on his flannel to show him what he’s made.

“You uh, get it?”

Benjy laughs delightedly. It was a painting of a young boy with the head of a cow, floating in space.

“Space Cow Boy. Amazing and really well done. Rj you’re really talented.” He blushes, the tips of his ears turning bright pink. The boy next to him smiles shyly at RJ when he looks down.

“I’m glad you came back.”

“Me too. Vance told me I should.”

Benjy introduces himself to Vance and tries not read into the shy, borderline flirty smiles the boys are exchanging. Katie and her friend also from the ED program, Shawna, have both painted sunflowers. Her strokes are finally looser, slightly less perfect, though Benjy knows she’s got a long battle ahead of her.

When he finally makes his way back to Deena, he’s surprised. Every session after their first one had depicted some sort of flying penis motif, but not this time. She’s painted a field, with mountains in the background. Her talent is obvious, it’s a semi-photo realistic style that Benjy has never even really been able to master himself. In the field there are all sorts of wildflowers and walking through them are a little girl with unruly tangled hair and a woman with slightly less wild curls. They’re facing the mountains, only the backs of them visible, their blue dresses picked up by a breeze Benjy can almost feel. Deena’s coloring in the raised arm of the mother, and she glances up at Benjy when he sits down beside her.

“Deena...”

“I’m more than just flying dicks you know.”

She’s studying him now, Benjy can feel it. Waiting for his approval-a feeling he knows all too well, he can feel it coming off of her almost in waves. It’s bizarre to be in this position, to be on the other side of the canvas as it were, but he’s here, and Deena’s eyes are boring into him.

“I know. I just didn’t know...you’re incredible.”

She scoffs. Without thinking, Benjy grabs her hand. “I mean it.”

She smiles, a real smile. A rare smile. She squeezes his hand once and lets it go.

“Thank you. I was..I mean I’m going to be again, in a program for art. It was just...a lot. My parents are splitting up and I...”

She trails off, glancing around the room. It’s alive with chatter and activity of the other patients and the two other nurses Dorcas rounded up to help her. No one’s hearing her, so Deena lets the wall down, just a little.

“It’s been hard. But I’m-I go home tomorrow, Benjy.”

He hears the excitement and fear in her voice as pride swoops through his heart.

“D, that’s great.”

“I’m terrified.”

“That’s a good thing.”

Deena snorts. “Oh yeah? When was the last time you were terrified?”

“When was my first session here again?”

That makes her smile again.

“I hope it’s a good thing. I’m uh...” She drops her gaze to the painting. “I’m gonna miss you.”

The pride turns into affection.

“I’m gonna miss you too. But I can talk to Bernie about an outpatient program maybe...”

Deena shakes her head.

“No uh, other people need you more than me.”

“I mean, clearly.” Benjy says, nodding at her painting. “I can’t do that shit. You’re remarkable.”

“Not like you are.” She says, looking at him again. She clears her throat.

“You know how whenever you talk about your mom, you say she’s the best person in the world?”

“I talk about my mom that much?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, I’m really cool.”

Deena laughs.

“Well, uh, my mom’s the best person in the world too. She got me in here, came to visit as much as they let her and...well after you came the first time, I finally could talk to her. It was just about the session at first but then…” She smiles.

“I told her about you. About what you do. She asked me what your name was and she uh, knew you?”

Wildly, for a second that doesn’t make sense, Benjy wonders if Deena is one of Forest’s daughters. He shakes himself. At most they were middle schoolers right now, barely if that. Still, his chuckle is nervous when he speaks.

“Um, how?”

“Her name’s Donna-uh, Donna Pierce?”

Deena keeps talking but Benjy feels a little piece of him die. Donna Pierce was arguably one of the most influential art agents in not only the Bay Area, but the whole fucking state. She’d been at his showcase. She’d shaken his hand and taken a sample of his portfolio-he found out later he was one of only two she’d done that with. And she was one of the agents’ whose assistants had told him they’d call him, but he hadn’t heard anything.

“She saw me at school.” He says dumbly. Deena laughs.

“That’s what I just said. Anyway we’ve sort of just...talked about you and painting and stuff when talking about the other stuff was too hard. She wants to meet you again-she left her personal card for you at the front desk. I hope uh-I hope that’s okay. You obviously don’t have to call her if you don’t want to.”

“I think I’m going into shock.”

Deena laughs.

“Yeah uh, she’s a pretty big deal. That’s part of why all of this was just….like I’m her kid and if I fuck up it’s twice as bad, you know?”

Benjy softens, snapping out of his surprise for a moment.

“I doubt she’d ever see you as a fuck-up.”

Deena grins.

“That’s what she said too.”

Cass glances nervously towards the corner booth. He’s been cleaning the same mug for the past 20 minutes, which happens to be about as long as Benjy has been having a conversation with Donna Pierce. She’d almost look out of place in the Spacey KC’s if it weren’t for her wild collection of curls. Her sharp red blazer stands out aggressively against the seafoam green of the wall she sits in front of. Cass smiles to himself when Benjy says something that makes her laugh, the sound crossing the cafe and hitting him at the rainbow bar. She’s got black cat eye glasses and light green eyes that look like they could easily turn cold, but they look like they’re at least entertained by his boyfriend as he sits across from her. He can only see the back of Benjy’s head but he studies it all the same, a smile crosses his face for a moment when he notices the blue streak is fading back to the almost white bleach they’d put in it. He’s not messing with his hair too much, which either means he’s not nervous at all or too nervous to do it. Benjy’s jean clad leg is bouncing under the table but it always was. He’d worn the “Kinda Gay” shirt today after almost 20 minutes of debating with himself. He’d finally decided on it, not wanting to hide himself, even if it meant risking what this opportunity could be. Cass was proud of him either way, and of course he knew Benjy knew that. He knew Benjy was talented and if things didn’t work out with Donna, they’d work out with someone else. But still-he’d been lower than either of them had really realized before he’d started volunteering to do the therapy sessions. Cass had watched Benjy come back to life after each of them, his self assurance blooming again, his confidence rising, wounds that were still painful healing a little more each time. If Benjy could get an agent...well, when he does get an agent, Cass was sure he’d be completely unstoppable. He already was of course, but he needed something to remind him, to fully light that fire again-

“Shit.”

Cass quickly averts his eyes as Benjy turns around to look at the counter, grinning like an idiot at the too clean mug in his hands when a snippet of what Benjy is saying drifts over to him.

“That beautiful tall one? Who doesn’t fit in at all with the Rainbow Brite thing that’s going on? That’s the love of my life.”

“Um, hello?”

Cass whips his attention to cash register and smiles sheepishly at the customer. Well, not customer. It’s Carly-one of the co-owners and his boss.

“Hey, hey, Car. Sorry.”

“Is that her?”

Everyone at work knew about Benjy’s meeting today, mostly because he couldn’t stop nervous babbling about it to anyone who would listen, and whenever Cass was at KC’s, Benjy wasn’t far away. Cass just nods, playing it cool and Carly, mercifully, picks up on the hint. Kat, her wife, was far less subtle, and probably would’ve gone over to also introduce herself. Cass makes Carly the weird herbal tea she stocks for pretty much only for her own use and she settles at the robin egg blue part of the bar, close to the register-doing the books but also listening in.

When Cass goes back to his mug, Donna and Benjy stand up. They shake hands, and then, in something that appears to surprise them both, Donna pulls Benjy in for a quick, maternal hug. She laughs a little sheepishly, but Benjy says something to her that makes her instantly relax. They speak in low voices, probably because Benjy was highly aware of eavesdroppers. Donna Pierce straightens her blazer and with a nod to Cass, who doesn’t even pretend to not be staring, she leaves the cafe.

His eyes find Benjy’s as he walks over to the counter, hands in his pockets, body language casual.

“Hi baby.”

“Hi…”

Benjy smiles at him in a way that really shouldn’t be legal and Cass can barely resist the urge to reach over the bar and pull him in for a kiss.

“Do I look different?”

Benjy cocks his head to the side slightly when he asks, the small gold earring in his ear catching the light. Cass’s eyebrows come together; that wasn’t what he was expecting him to say.

But he should know by now; Benjy Fenwick is anything but what’s expected of him.

“Uh, no? Not really? Should you?”

“Well I thought you know, landing an agent, therefore making me an official professional artise would make me a bit more-”

Benjy doesn’t get to finish his thought because Cass lets out a cry of delight and gives into temptation, grabbing the sides of his face and bending ¾ of his body over the bar to kiss Benjy victoriously, swallowing his laughter and breaking away in astonished giggles.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m guessing it’s good news?” Carly says dryly, glancing up from her books with a smile that betrays her. Benjy’s grinning almost manically and he nods so fast Cass actually sees a blur.

“Congratulations, Benj. You deserve it.” She jerks her head to the door as her eyes find Cass.

“Go. Celebrate. I can start half an hour early.”

“Are you sure?” Cass asks, already untying his apron. Carly nods, her smile growing.

“Your lives just fucking changed, of course I’m sure. You only get to celebrate this once.”

Cass doesn’t even bother to properly walk around the counter, opting instead to clamor over it to get to Benjy as fast as possible, squeezing him in a bone crushing hug that lifts him slightly off of the ground.

“I knew you’d get it.” He tells his hair, Benjy just grins back at him. They leave the shop and start walking home, their hands firmly together, safe in their own neck of the city. Benjy breaks the contact soon, energy pouring out of him as he recaps everything for Cass, practically dancing as he walks backwards on the sidewalk.

“So she said she remembered me from school, even before Deena mentioned me-and I was honestly already in her ‘possibilities pile’ which is just...I want one of those. How fucking bad ass. But anyway, she remembered my name since it’s you know, ridiculous. And then she said uh, she remembered me because of my talent, but she was giving me a shot because of my compassion, which you know...pretty cool.”

Cass knew it was a lot more than ‘pretty cool’. He could see it on Benjy’s face, the way he spoke, how his eyes danced right along with him-he didn’t need to explain himself further.

“And we talked about Deena for a long time and just...god Cass, she’s such a cool kid and just, like, even if her mom had been like a dentist or something, I still would’ve loved meeting her like this, you know? But she’s not a dentist and now…”

His smile kind of fades and Benjy stops, Cass watches it all sink in right in front of him. When Benjy meets his eyes again, galaxies are forming.

“I’m real.”

Cass closes the distance between them and kisses him sweetly. He wants to tell Benjy that he’s always been real, that he would’ve been real no matter what had happened, but he knows what Benjy means. And he doesn’t want to take even a fraction of any of this away from him.

“You’re real.” He says, taking his hand again and giving it a squeeze. Benjy tells him all about logistics, the next steps, how he made sure he could still do the program at the hospital-answering Cass’s questions as best as he can. When they get to their building, Cass starts to unlock the door as Benjy balances on the top of the railing like always.

“You know what one was her favorite?”

Warmth is already spreading to Cass’s cheeks, instincts and the way Benjy’s voice has gone impossibly soft giving him a hint.

“What one?”

Benjy hops off the railing and stands on his tip toes to reach Cass’s lips fully.

“You, your highness. Your photograph. My favorite too.”

Their fingers are locked together as they climb the stairs. Benjy pauses when they get to their landing.

“Do you think Carly was right? Is everything about to change?”

Someone not fluent in Benjy would’ve missed the tiny hint of doubt in his voice, but not Cass. He pushes some of Benjy’s hair out of his face and smiles at him.

“I think so, Star Eyes. But you know what?”

“What?”

“So far, every change with you has been a good one.”

#drabble #2005 #ughhhhh

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vlightndarkv · 6 years ago

Text

Reactions to Yu-Gi-Oh: Dark Side of Dimensions

Okay so, this started as one reaction to something, but then I had more reactions and just kept adding on aaaand... Yeah. XD

Now obviously there will be some spoilers, but most should be fairly out of context.

I have no idea if this will even be of any interest to anyone, probably not, but I had fun doing it so eh. *shrug*

I'll keep the first few visible but will hide the rest under a read more cause this got kinda long. Whoops. >.>

Also, I intend to write a proper review of this movies because I have many thoughts on things, but that will be tomorrow. Is quite late, much later than I had intended on staying up, and I need sleep.

(Also I will apologize now to anyone who likes Kaiba that happens to read this. I distinctly am NOT a fan of Kaiba and it very much shows throughout this.)

---

"It's true, I went through a great deal of trouble recreating the Pharoah's deck, strategies, even his perfectly quaffed hair. In fact that part is what took the longest."

Oh my god what even is this movie??? XDXD

(Quick note, this was the original reaction I was going to post on it’s own, but shortly after I had another and that’s how this whole thing came about. After this they’re in order as the occurred in the movie, it’s just this one that’s out of place since it started the whole thing.)

---

*movie opens with us flying through space, comes to a space station with the letters KC on the side*

Me: Oh dear god, his ego had reached space!

---

Uh... Excuse me what? Why do you have that???

---

*people digging stuff up, dude has a picure of the Millennium Puzzle on his phone*

Me: Uh... Okay... So are these Kaiba’s guys or...

---

*Yugi and his grandpa talking about Tea*

Me: Oh? Will there finally be some eluding to Yugi and Tea?

*little further along*

Me: Guess not.

---

Sploosh!

---

*Bakura surrounded by girls, completely flustered*

Me: XDXDXD

(I’m glad they included this because it’s never played up in the show despite being canon)

---

*gang goes around, talking about what they’re going to do after graduating*

Me: But what about Bakura? (No I’m not a Bakura fangirl, no not at all >.>)

---

*Aigami is introduced, gang standing around trying to remember his name*

Me: He hasn’t been in their class the whole time has he.

---

Geh, what is up with these character designs? What’s with that dude’s head??

---

What is this these characters and jumping off things?

---

*Joey tumbles into his landing*

Me: *snort* Nailed it.

Joey: Dat was on purpose!

Me: Close enough. XD

---

Aigami: You’re Joey right? And Tea? And you... You’re Yugi Moto, am I right?

Yugi: Yeah but, don’t we already know each other?

Me: Yeaaah... He definitely hasn’t been around this whole time.

---

That whole thing was a set up wasn’t it?

---

Joey: How do we know him and not know him at the same time?

Yugi: I wish I had an answer.

*conspiracy theory continues to grow*

Dirty water dogs...

---

Seriously this dude’s head!

---

Well. They certainly didn’t waste any time revealing you as the villain did they?

---

*shadow people start showing up*

Is... Is that Bakura??? The hell???

---

Aand the whole thing was recorded.

*Aigami picks up the camera after having been seen walking away through it*

Wait. How did-But you just- HUH???

---

Pharaoh? Uhhhh... what?

---

*Kaiba immediately summons three blue-eyes*

Me: Doesn’t anybody know the rules of this game? (Throwback to Yu-Gi-Oh abridged. XD)

---

*Kaiba internal monologuing about how he’s better, how he’s done so much to get to this moment, how he’ll finally show he’s the best*

Me: *groans and rolls eyes so hard it’s a wonder they didn’t pop out of my skull*

---

Kaiba: You set me up. *attack happens, things explode, Kaiba still stands* But I knew you’d set me up.

Me: Aand of course. Wouldn’t be Yu-Gi-Oh if there weren’t constant, “But wait!” moments.

---

*Kaiba unleashes attack, Pharaoh doesn’t try to counter, things explode*

Me: ... This wasn’t real was it?

*world begins to fade away*

Me: Yup. Only way he’d actually beat the Pharaoh.

---

Crystal cloud network... How far does that go exactly? Dear god that’s a terrifying thought...

---

Okay so wait he... doesn’t... have it yet? Then what was up with the beginning of the movie?

---

Duke! Wasn’t expecting to see you.

---

Kaiba: It is I! Seto Kaiba and once again I am about to change your lives.

Me: Oh lord here we go...

---

Huh... Well that’s certainly interesting how they played this.

(This was in reaction to Diva and his friend overlooking Yugi and his friends at the mall. I went into this movie having seen a rather key scene involving Diva and Bakura so was impressed at how they mislead us early on)

---

Kaiba can't you just wait for the plane to land like a normal person? You really had to jump out of it? Seriously, the characters in this series and jumping from things.

---

The guns aren't invisible!

---

Kaiba... Only you would be extra enough to have an automatic trap door build into your coat.

---

"There are no limits when you're as brilliant as Seto Kaiba!"

Me: Ugh...

---

How may different types of Blue-eyes White Dragons does this guy have???

---

*Kaiba internal monologuing about how it can't end here, I've come too far done too much*

Me: I swear to god if he says something about the heart of the cards I'm done.

---

Uh... Whut.

Whut

Kaiba you're breaking the world.

---

What is that? Wait... Is that...

Aigami: It's Obelisk the Tourmentor!

Me: WHUT. He still has that???

---

*glowing coming from the hole the items fell into, dude teleport down, Millennium Ring is poking out of the rubble*

Oh dear.

---

Huh. So they're actually graduating.

---

Kaiba why... WHY do you need a space station?

---

*computer goes through a bunch of techno babble*

Kaiba: Don't you think I know that? I invented the blasted thing.

Computer: Affirmative. But my AI has recognized your affinity for being reminded of your genius.

Me: UGHHH!!! MY GOD YOUR EGO.

---

Huh. Well THAT just threw a bunch of my Bakura head canons out the window.

---

Oh dear. Well that's not good.

---

Tristan: Come on! Something's happened to Joey!

Me: How do you know that?!

---

*Aigami’s friend shows up acting all creepy*

Oooh snap.

---

Okay so is the ring manipulating this dude's emotions or is this the spirit talking and he's pissed at Bakura.

---

Aigami: The ring didn't do it it was you!

Aigami: *2 minutes later* Manny the ring is doing something to you!

Me: Dude! Make up your mind!

---

*Yugi and co. running around, calling for Joey*

Me: No concern for Bakura though. As usual. *sigh*

---

Friendship is magic!

---

Kaiba. Go. AWAY.

Seriously, I feel like I'm watching two different movies here.

---

HOW DO YOU KNOW HE HAS THE PIECES?!?!?!

---

Mokuba: Hey Yugi what's up? Lookin good!

Me: How are these two related...

---

Mokuba: *cocky* We know were the second piece is and it's practically ours.

Me: ... Okay now I see the family resemblance.

---

I swear to god just when I start to think Kaiba can't get any more extra...

---

*Kaiba goes through long-winded, ego boosting speech that I've already forgotten most of*

Me: Ughhhhhh......

---

Kaiba: Behold! The Millennium Puzzle!

Me: Dude, you are LITERALLY one of 7 people in that entire stadium who even knows what that thing is.

---

Yeah Yugi! Put that egotistical prick in his place!

---

These poor people have NO IDEA what's going on.

---

Yugi: Dimension dueling? Guess I'll have to learn as I go.

Me: Ladies and gentlemen, Yu-Gi-Oh in a sentence.

---

Must we do the DBZ power up scream?

---

Oh boy, these things again.

---

Ah... But... He... Hm... *me trying to work out a plot point*

---

Kaiba: (card name)'s ability allows me to to summon Blue-Eyes White Dragon!

Me: Of course it does.

---

Seriously, HOW MANY DIFFERENT BLUE EYES DOES THIS GUY HAVE???

---

APPLE Magician Girl??? Dafuq?

---

And now Lemon Magician Girl. He's got a magical fruit salad in the works here.

---

*Diva comes across Millennium Ring*

Me: Oh shit.

---

*Kaiba plays Monster Reborn*

Me: Oh hey, a card I know!

---

Geehh.

---

EIGHTH Millennium Item??? Sure why not.

---

Yugi and Kaiba having a back to back bad ass moment to team up against the bad guy... Not sure how I feel about this.

---

*Kaiba shows concern for Yugi, Kaiba sacrifices himself for Yugi*

The ease in which he changes his focus depending on the situation is... Something else. Because I know when this is all over he'll be right back to, "Yugi I will defeat you!" mode.

---

When did you pick that up?!

---

Heart of the cards. Knew that had to come up at some point.

---

Return of the Pharoah! (?)

---

He's... Not gonna say a word is he?

*Pharoah poofs*

Nope.

---

HIS SPACE STATION IS SHAPED LIKE A K AND A C. HOW DID I MISS THAT. Dear lord this guy...

---

*Kaiba is shown to have Diva's cube thing*

Me: Uh oh...

---

... Whut...

SERIOUSLY DUDE??? DEAR GOD GET A LIFE!

---

*credits roll, remixed version of original theme plays*

Me: *cackles*

---

*credits scroll through songs, three of which were on the shows soundtrack*

How did I miss those??? (Though to be fair its been a LOOOONG time since I last listened to that soundtrack)

---

THERE WAS NO POT OF GREED.

On one level, I’m relieved. Back when I watched the show I came to despise that card because despite it being played ALL THE DAMN TIME they STILL felt the need to explain that it, “Allows me to draw two cards” EVERY.FRIGGIN.TIME.

But on the other hand, because of that it became such a part of the series that it almost seems wrong for it to have not been included.

#Yu-Gi-Oh #dark side of dimensions #my various reactions to things #Kaiba is a prick #BUT BAKURA FINALLY GOT SOME FOCUS!!!

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