#bek speaks

[bekandrew]

New Release for Deviant: the Renegades

Do you get the Origins mixed up (Epimorph and Exomorph sound awful close)? Ever wondered what the word cohort means or why a group of Renegades might be called that? Do you have a hard time visualizing what a Threat Level 3 Chronicle might look like?

I released my first PWYW title on Storyteller's Vault this morning: Dissecting Deviant to help with these problems. It has the real-world scientific and medical context for Deviant terms explained in easy-to-understand chunks, as well as expanded descriptions of the named threat levels based on the names' definitions and levels' stats.

[waterm3lon-bek]

just caught myself saying goodbye out loud as chan ended his tiktok live...

[fairly-linked]

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but…

Whatever happened wasn’t your fault. And even if it was, you know you had no intention of failing or hurting anyone.

You are loved. You are precious. You’re a life that’s cherished, whether or not you feel that way.

So please, forgive yourself. Please. You don’t deserve to suffer.

[moraygrotto]

wait i have noticed this pattern with my x reader fics before but i was looking through some of my old pieces & would like to illustrate how this is my reader-chan flirting/otherwise interacting with:

Jade:

Rook:

Riddle:

Deuce:

Idia:

[audreyjenseninthatredsweeter]

Also watching episode two right now and oh my god I forgot how fucking funny the script is like the banter the characters have is just so fucking good.

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Chapter Nine

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Chapter Nine: In the Skies

Summary: (Y/N), Marc, and Layla fight for their lives and work with the gods to discover the location of Ammit's tomb.

            (Y/N), Marc, and Layla stood still as the guards kept their guns trained on them. A single wrong move would get them shot, and they were in a bad enough position without being injured or dead.

            Mogart approached Marc, eyes narrowed. “Do you really think I’m an idiot? Get on your knees.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened. “No, don’t!” A guard grabbed them roughly and jerked them back.

            “Anton, don’t!” said Layla in alarm, but another guard grabbed her arm to keep her from trying anything.

            “Get on your knees,” repeated Mogart.

            Clenching his jaw, Marc got down on his knees.

            Satisfied, Mogart looked back at Layla and tutted. “Layla, I was so ready to make peace with you.”

            “You don’t understand. We’re trying to save many lives,” said Layla.

            “Hey, pal. Take a look inside the sarcophagus,” said Marc. “There’s something really, really big.”

            Lie. A trick with enough possibility of proverbial truth to lure Mogart closer.

            He stepped towards the sarcophagus, but Bek stopped him. He leaned down to Mogart’s ear and spoke in hushed French.

            “There’s someone here to see you. He claims to know these three’s true identities and has information for your collection,” said Bek, and (Y/N)’s mind translated it in a instance.

            “Well, that’s interesting,” said Mogart, cocking his head and looking around at the group. “It appears we have a concerned third party here.” He stepped into the doorway, and the guards forced (Y/N), Marc, and Layla after him.

            Walking towards them with allies on either side was Harrow. “Whatever they’ve told you, I’m sure I can offer you something much more tangible.” Straight to the point.

            He lifted the scarab, gleaming gold in the moonlight. Mogart’s greedy eyes landed on the scarab hungrily.

            “Why settle for a clue when you can have the treasure?” suggested Harrow.

            Lie, lie, lie! “Don’t listen to him, he won’t give you anything!” said (Y/N), and the cold metal of a gun pressed into their head. (Y/N) quieted, and the gun was pulled back slightly.

            “Anton. Anton, don’t listen to this man,” said Layla forcefully as they were dragged back across the lawn. “He’s trying to stop us from reaching—”

            “Please, stop,” snapped Mogart.

            “He’s gonna kill millions, trust me!” said Layla.

            Mogart scoffed. “Are you seriously talking about trust?”

            “Please, there’s no need to descend into violent accusations,” said Harrow, acting as the ever-calm sage. “Each of you has so much more in common than you know.” Harrow looked at Layla. “Layla, you keep thinking that distance will prevent the wounds from your father’s murder from reopening. But something stands in your way. Your husband doesn’t tell you the truth.” Layla and (Y/N) furrowed their brows and looked at Marc in confusion. He shook his head, but that didn’t stop Harrow from speaking. “And Marc, you don’t tell her because you know that if you do, she’ll see you exactly as you see yourself, as unworthy of love.”

            “You piece of shit,” said Marc, narrowing his eyes.

            “And (Y/N)—” Harrow’s gaze landed on them, and, instinctively, they avoided eye-contact, unable to sustain it “—you think that the only way you deserve to live is by serving a god because if you don’t, you might as well have died in 2018.”

            Flinching, (Y/N) squeezed their hand into a fist. Their nails dug into their palm, and they focused on the sensation. Anything but that memory. Anything but that thought. Anything but that agony.

            Satisfied, Harrow lifted his cane, and the stones glowed purple. The light reflected in Mogart’s enchanted gaze. “The lore surrounding these relics, I offer proof that it’s real.” He looked around. “This sarcophagus doesn’t belong to anyone.”

            “Do it. Summon the suit.” Khonshu’s voice echoed across the lawn.

            “Call it to you,” said Ma’at, and (Y/N) glanced to the roof to see her standing with Khonshu.

            “Give them what they deserve,” said Khonshu.

            “Anton. Would you like to see for yourself?” said Harrow.

            Almost hypnotized by the prospect of power, Mogart nodded and approached Harrow. “I do.”

            Harrow began to chant in Coptic, and (Y/N) shivered as the words translated and Ammit’s power filtered into the staff.

            “You must act!” said Ma’at.

            How? (Y/N) wanted to scream. They’d fought twice, and only once against Harrow’s power. How were they supposed to understand how to act in a situation they had barely encountered?

            “What are you waiting for?” snapped Khonshu.

            Inside the pyramid, purple light and smoke swirled around the sarcophagus. The coffin collapsed into dust, and the light dispersed. Mogart stared in shock.

            “That’s just a taste of the godly power I offer,” said Harrow, walking away calmly.

            Mogart turned eagerly towards Layla, Marc, and (Y/N). With a single order, he could kill them and get some of the power Harrow held.

            Mogart frowned. “Where is he?”

            Marc was gone. The guards looked around in confusion, but Layla and (Y/N) knew where to look. They raised their gazes to another glass pyramid. In his suit, Marc stood and looked down on the men threatening two people Marc wanted to protect.

            He raised his arms, flicked his wrists, and the battle began. Two moon-shaped knives spun through the air and landed in the arms of the men attempting to drag Layla and (Y/N) away. Layla grabbed one of the guns from the ground and slammed into another guard while Marc lunged at several shooting at him.

            Come on, come on!

            (Y/N)’s suit appeared, wrapping around them as they dodged the men grabbing for them. The blue cloth strips wrapped around their hands, (Y/N) reared back, and they punched with heightened strength. The guard they hit went flying and hit another on a horse (fortunately, the horse wasn’t hurt).

            At the shots, the people at the carnival screamed and ran, but the men still on horseback grabbed their lances to fight for their employer. Several guards fell to Layla’s shooting, and (Y/N) threw one into the way of others, giving Marc a moment to finish them.

            Bullets whizzed by their shoulders, and (Y/N) flinched. The men guarding the carnival were approaching through the dirt track, shooting all the while. Marc grabbed Layla and pulled her under his cloak. The bullets hit the cloth but didn’t go through. Seeing (Y/N), Marc pulled them into the protective cape as well.

            Logically, it was likely (Y/N) had similar protection from injury, but Marc couldn’t risk that, and he refused to let go of them or Layla as the firing continued.

            “Buy me some time,” said Layla, looking at Marc. “And keep an eye on (Y/N).”

            “I can do that,” said Marc.

            “I can help,” said (Y/N) forcefully. They had been paralyzed by Ma’at’s demand, but they saw Marc fighting, and they knew they had to be as strong. So they would be.

            Marc turned, flipped, and flicked his cloak. The bullets sailed through the air and hit their former shooters, felling the guards. (Y/N) felt their suit for weapons. Last time, they’d been running on adrenaline and barely gotten to figure out what they could do with the suit. Now, they found several daggers shaped like ostrich feathers. The gods definitely liked their themes.

            (Y/N) trusted their instincts, reared back, and threw their daggers. They reformed into their holsters after, but the previous hit the opponents (Y/N) was up against. Not waiting to rest on their laurels, (Y/N) kept moving and striking the guards.

            Behind them, Marc ran into the horse track and engaged in hand-to-hand combat against the men. Several quickly fell to him, his stamina and strength too much to them. (Y/N) turned towards the pyramids again. Eyes widening, they saw Layla fighting, and struggling, against Bek.

            “Layla!” cried (Y/N), running to her.

            They grabbed Bek and threw him back. His body went through the glass and hit the ground. Bek groaned and stood up, but at that point, Layla was grabbing what she was trying steal and running at him. She pulled her necklace off, took the sharp ends, and stabbed through Bek’s chest. He gasped and fell back again.

            “Go, go!” said Layla, rushing out with (Y/N).

            They ran to the track where Marc was stabbed through with several lances (Steven had come back out and gotten overwhelmed). Riding on a horse, another man was approaching to attack. Layla grabbed a gun from the ground and fired. The guard fell.

            Steering his own horse towards them, Mogart galloped towards them. He swung his lance at Layla, and (Y/N) pushed her out of the way. The pole hit them, and they were knocked down to the ground.

            Marc’s mask disappeared, and he stared in worry as Mogart gabbed a spear, complete with a rounded tip, and turned back towards Layla and (Y/N). Marc’s mask reformed, and Marc snapped the impaled spears. Angry, he pulled out the spears and drove them into his attackers. Within moments, the guards were dead in the dirt, and Marc turned to face Mogart on his horse. The two stared each other down. Layla and (Y/N) were directly in between them, though Layla was trying to pull (Y/N) to the side.

            Mogart kicked the side of his horse. Marc ran forward. Lowering his spear, Mogart charged, but Marc was there first. He grabbed Layla and (Y/N). Pulling them to the side, he whirled and threw a dagger back at Mogart. It hit his back, and he fell from his horse.

            Leaving the body, Marc knelt and helped Layla guide (Y/N) to their feet. “You alright?”

            (Y/N) nodded and winced. “Just a bruise. I’m still getting used to this.”

            Layla smiled and squeezed their shoulder. “You’re doing fine.”

            At the praise, (Y/N) ducked their head in embarrassment. Clearing their throat, they tried to make eye-contact but quickly opted to just speak. “Um, did you grab what you needed?”

            Layla nodded. “I grabbed what Marc was messing with.”

            “Good,” said Marc. “Now we just need a car.”

            “Come on,” said Layla, leading the way.

            Marc and (Y/N)’s suits melted away and they followed.

l

            Cairo zipped by as Layla drove them out of the city and the light pollution so they could properly look at the star map Steven had recognized in Senfu’s sarcophagus.

            After he bandaged himself, Marc groaned as he looked at the holes in his jacket. “Ay. I really liked that jacket. Oh, well.” He tossed it to the back beside (Y/N).

            “What was Harrow talking about?” said Layla, as straightforward as ever.

            Marc froze and looked at her. Evasively, he averted his eyes. “What do you mean?”

            “He said I had a right to know,” said Layla.

            “I have no idea,” said Marc as he turned and grabbed a fresh shirt from Mogart’s stash in the back. He made eye-contact with (Y/N) and looked away. He knew (Y/N) had felt his lie.

            “I never told anyone why I really moved,” said Layla. She gripped the steering wheel tighter. “But he knew. He just saw right through me.”

            “He does that,” murmured (Y/N), pulling on a hoodie they’d found. Stubbornly, desperately, they pushed back thoughts on Harrow’s words to them.

            “He just messes with everyone,” said Marc, looking between Layla and (Y/N). “Don’t let him do that. Just don’t. He’s got this idea that he can see the true nature of people or some baloney like that. If that were true, I don’t think he’d have a bunch of homicidal maniacs as his disciples, would he?”

            “So it’s not true? What he said about you and—”

            “No, it’s not true,” said Marc.

            Lie. (Y/N) kept their mouth tightly shut.

            “He’s just trying to divide us. Don’t let him get in your head,” said Marc.

            Layla took a deep breath and let out a frustrated sigh. Trying not to snap at Marc for keeping so many secrets, she looked in the rearview mirror at (Y/N).

            “Are you alright, (Y/N)?” she asked.

            (Y/N) pursed their lips as they decided how to respond. “I’m recovering from the fight.”

            Layla narrowed her eyes. “I meant with Harrow.” She wasn’t letting (Y/N) avoid the issue.

            “…I don’t want to talk about it,” said (Y/N), looking firmly out the window.

            Layla and Marc exchanged a worried look.

l

            “Try this one,” said Marc, handing another scrap of cloth to Layla and (Y/N), but the torn map wasn’t coming back together.

            “Um, no, anything else?” said Layla.

            “It’s all just fragments,” said (Y/N) ruefully, shaking their head.

            Marc hit the hood of the jeep in frustration. Groaning, he hung his head. “This is gonna take forever.”

            Layla looked at him evenly. “Marc, we need Steven.”

            Marc put his head in his hands. Weariness was written into every line of his face.

            “He understands all of this. I really think it’s worth giving him a shot,” said Layla.

            “I summon the gods; you summon the worm,” scoffed Khonshu. “He won’t return the body.”

            “Marc,” said (Y/N), and he looked at them. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

            “Marc, we don’t have time,” said Layla, urging him.

            Marc pulled the side mirror from the jeep, gathered up the map scraps, and walked a few paces away to talk with Steven. Concerned, (Y/N) watched him go.

            Layla groaned. “He can’t seriously be fighting again with Steven.”

            “Give him a moment,” said (Y/N), believing in Marc and Steven. They were different but both good men. (Y/N) trusted them.

            Sure enough, the man knelt and began putting parts of the cloth together. (Y/N) smiled. Steven was there.

            Surprised and still unused to the situation, Layla approached, and (Y/N) followed.

            “Don’t need that,” murmured Steven, the British accent having returned with him. “I don’t need that.”

            Layla and (Y/N) sat down next to him.

            “Steven?” said Layla, unsure of herself.

            He looked up. He paused. He smiled. “Egyptians invented modern navigation,” he said excitedly. “There’s not a lot of landmarks in the desert.” Steven crouched in the sand and began working again. “So they came up with a way to get about using the sun and the stars. It’s bloody genius, isn’t it?”

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N), and Layla nodded, gazing at him softly.

            “Et voila.” Steven held up an, ironically, star-shaped map, taped together.

            “Wow,” said Layla, looking at it.

            “It’s French,” said Steven.

            “I know,” laughed Layla. She and Steven stared at each other, and (Y/N) looked between them in confusion. Clearing her throat, Layla focused. “So, what do we do with it?”

            “Well, I’m not sure, but if…” Steven stood and trailed off as he realized there were pinpricks through the map. “Hang on a minute. You see that? You see those little pinpricks there?”

            “That’s a constellation,” said (Y/N).

            “We should be able to triangulate the stars into coordinates, right?” said Layla. She held up a piece of equipment from the jeep.

            “It’s not that simple,” said (Y/N), shaking their head. “Senfu made the map two thousand years ago. The stars drift over time, not a lot, but enough to change the sky we see from the map.”

            Steven nodded. “It could mean the difference between us searching miles away from where we’re supposed to be looking. So unless we know exactly what the sky looked like on that date…we’re buggered.”

            “I remember the night,” said Khonshu.

            (Y/N) and Steven looked up. He stood on the sand dunes, and Ma’at was beside him.

            “As do I,” she said. “Khonshu is the guardian of the night. I lend balance to the cosmos, the stars. We have lived a thousand years and know each day and night by heart.”

            “Is it Khonshu and Ma’at?” said Layla as the two stared at the dunes.

            (Y/N) nodded, and they and Steven walked up towards the gods. Layla followed, brow furrowed since she couldn’t hear the gods speaking.

            Steven cleared his throat. “Khonshu.”

            “We can turn back the night sky,” said Khonshu.

            “How?” said (Y/N).

            “It will come at a cost,” said Ma’at.

            (Y/N) looked at Steven. “She said it will come at a cost.”

            “And we cannot do it alone,” said Khonshu.

            (Y/N) and Steven stood, looking out over the desert below them, and the gods stood behind them. A soft wind blew the sand around the group.

            “Steven, when the gods imprison me, tell Marc to free me,” said Khonshu.

            “Imprison?” asked (Y/N).

            “We will be interfering with the mortal world in the way they declared we would be punished for,” said Ma’at. She looked down at (Y/N). “You must continue this journey on your own. Free me, but Ammit must be handled first.”

            Khonshu and Ma’at raised their hands. (Y/N) and Steven’s suits wrapped around them.

            “Do as we do,” said Khonshu.

            (Y/N) and Steven copied the deities’ movements. They waved their hands, all four in sync, and the sky lit up with stars. They began to spin, running backwards in time, through decades and centuries of nights.

            It was beautiful, and (Y/N)’s eyes widened in awe.

            “Whoa. This is mental,” exclaimed Steven, just as awestruck.

            “This is the night,” said Khonshu.

            “Precisely as we knew it,” said Ma’at.

            The sky steadied, and Steven and (Y/N) strained with the gods to keep the past in place.

            “This is surprisingly painful,” groaned Steven.

            “Keep holding,” said (Y/N), their muscles straining.

            Layla held up the screen. “It’s working!” The calculations began for the coordinates.

            A pain speared through (Y/N), and they gasped. Behind them, Khonshu and Ma’at fell to their knees.

            “I can feel my energy leaving me,” gasped Steven.

            It fell away from (Y/N), too, and as much as they tried to hold on, the familiar power they’d grown up with—Ma’at’s—was slipping from them. Steven and (Y/N)’s suits began to disappear as the gods behind them began to dissolve into sand. The other gods had seen what they’d done and given their punishment—imprisonment in stone.

            “Layla…we can’t…hold on,” said (Y/N), panting with effort.

            “Coordinates found,” said the computer’s voice. “29 degrees north, 25 degrees.”

            “I got it!” said Layla.

            Letting go in relief, Steven gasped and fell to his knees. Releasing their strength, (Y/N) stumbled back and tried to remain on their feet. They turned and faced Ma’at and Khonshu.

            “Ma’at,” croaked (Y/N) tiredly.

            Ma’at just gazed at the teenager sadly, and when the wind swept over the dune again, she was carried away in the sand. (Y/N) was left alone, bare of any of the power—purpose—they’d had since they were ten.

            The edges of their vision darkened. (Y/N)’s chest constricted in panic. They collapsed into the sand.

l

            “You were right about Khonshu and Ma’at,” said Selim, Osiris’s Avatar. He escorted Harrow through the halls of the Great Pyramid of Giza to where they kept the statues of imprisoned deities. “And in the end, they left us no choice.”

            The two statues came into sight, a pair of carved sandstone sculptures less than a foot in height. The once mighty deities were reduced to such a small encasing, unable to escape.

            “Now, they’re tethered to this place like many before them,” said Selim.

            “Can they hear us?” said Harrow, gazing at the statues.

            “We think so, yes,” said Selim.

            Harrow nodded and stepped towards the statues. Selim graciously stepped away, allowing Harrow a private moment with the imprisoned remains of the god he was once an Avatar for.

            “I enjoyed dealing out pain on your behalf,” said Harrow, almost softly. “That is the greatest sin I carry. I am grateful. Had you not broken me so completely, I might have known the value of healing. I’m going to do what you could not do. I want you to remember one thing. Your torment forged me. I owe my victory to you.” He turned to walk away.

            Harrow paused in front of Ma’at statue. He looked down at it and smiled. “And Ma’at, I will make sure all of the knowledge you imparted to young (Y/N) goes to good use. It too will serve my victory well.”

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

@oscarissac2099

@amberforest08

@kyalov

@yyourmotherr

@im-making-an-effort

@the-toskaverse

@wra-1-th

[volturissideslut]

I think I worded it better lol

How you think Rebekah Mikaelson would react to the girl she keeps rejecting (who always gives Beks princess treatment and her undivided attention) suddenly being super nice to Elena

𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖊𝖐𝖆𝖍 𝕸𝖎𝖐𝖆𝖊𝖑𝖘𝖔𝖓

"Hi, Bex" you grin, sitting next to the blonde. It was history class, first period, and the only seat next was the one left next to her because she glared at everyone else that dared to try. Not so secretly, you want her, and also not so secretly, she wants you. But Rebekah likes to be chased, she likes to be pampered, and she likes to make life hard. So though she also wanted you and enjoyed any previous advances you had given her, she was going to play hard to get.

"You again? Won't you ever learn to bugger off?" she huffs, turning away to hide her small smile at your presence. You catch the smile, though, and decide to play along despite the small pang in your chest.

"Never. What would i do without my favourite original by my side to talk to, hm?"

"Oh shush, Mr. Saltzman's starting his lesson, now let me borrow a pen"

___

This same back and forth continued between Rebekah and yourself for a few more days now and you stupidly began to think she would start being nice back. You shared your lunch, met when she called, watched her cheer leading try outs like she requested, even tied her laces for her once. And yet, today it seemed like it was going backwards.

"Oh go away, would you. You and-" Rebekah started, about to rant about the 'bloody Salvatores' and 'whiney Elena' but when she turned around to give you a practiced scowl she was met with the sight of you actually walking away.

The smile hidden under her grimace disappeared, wiped cleanly off of her face. Instead, a blank expression laid there, with eyes wide in surprise.

What was more surprising, though, was when you didn't show up for her practice. She no longer felt the need to show Caroline up, and slunk to the back of the group to peer at the stands.

Even more so, when she didn't see you sat next to her usual spot in history class. Instead at the front, doodling in your notebook.

Okay, so maybe it hurt a little. But she got what she asked for, right?

But what actually made her react was getting to the bonfire, expecting to speak to you and bicker - to hash it all out and move along - only to see you laughing with... Elena??

The two of you just looked like peas in a pod, giggling together and reminiscing about when you were closer as kids, when it was all less complicated. And then... and then you shared a smore. Like actually bit into the same one as that - that bitch!

And Rebekah was seething. Not that she really had any right to be.

And so she marched right up there, arms crossed in discontent, "A word, please?" and yet her tone indicated the 'please' was more of a 'get your arse up now'. And so, with a huff of annoyance and a shrug from you, Elena stood up to follow Rebekah. "Not you, you pest" she glared. Elena only looked to you with worry.

Brushing it off, you stood and followed Rebekah.

"What on earth has gotten into you lately? You've-" The blonde girl begins after sputtering for a few seconds

"I thought you wanted to be left alone bex, isn't that what you always tell me? To 'bugger off'?" and she has to hold back a wince at the way her own words are thrown back at her. "You asked to be left alone, and im leaving you alone. Is that all?"

"No that's not all!"

"Then what, hm?"

"Then... then-" she surges forward, kissing you deeply. "That, that's what!" she says angrily. "I'll see you Monday, in your normal seat, thank you very much" she turns to storm away, pointedly ignoring the hammering in her chest and the butterflies in her belly

"Okay" you whisper, fingers ghosting over your lips, mouth still tingling from the feel of hers. "See you Monday"

And that Monday she decides that maybe it's time to switch the narrative. Maybe its time for her to be attentive to you.

[ssnowflowers]

The Horror of the Petrification is. Really compelling.

Because while we can watch it, slowly see Bek and Will turn into stone and feel this deep sense of dread, it cannot compare to the people who turned to stone without us knowing.

But there's something horrifying about people being stolen away, cold and freezing as they turn into stone. The inherent horror of Scar, or Puffy, or anyone being taken and slowly petrified in a terrifying environment of unknown purple. And that's the last thing you see.

What happened to these pirates? Did Tubbo fight to his last? Did Michaela try and run? We have no idea what happened to anyone of these pirates.

And the most terrifying part? No one noticed. Krow can talk about how if he wanted to speak with a drunk, he'd go to Redd. And not know that Redd was taken by cultists. The Kestrels can constantly talk about how Guqqie is missing, but not notice that Shelby was taken right under their noses.

These Pirates are taken, cold and alone, turned to stone and no one notices. And that truly is the horror of the petrification.

[minecraftbookshelf]

more pirates smp opening stream highlights

Seepeekay just pretending to not be a real person

Scar's tower of hats

Seepeekay's tragic backstory

Bek's absolute determination to commit as much violence as possible

Sausage's...description of Oli's relations(hip) with his crab wife

Supreme Queen of All Pirates: Jellie

Scar's tower of hats

Every single faction making a bid for Owen

Sausage: "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

"Everyone knows that foxes went extinct when the great fox feast happened." Owen pls.

Guqqie being a bit behind the pack because motion sickness, i felt that.

Scar's tower of hats

Olive has adopted the ominous urchin

Guqqie is just bullying us by the end and i cannot make that clear enough. Absolutely just left us hanging.

Martyn really is allergic to having a home.

istg if they killed the lesbians off permanently on day one i will be so disappointed im assuming they will be back they had better be back im totally okay i swear

Sausage and Krow just getting 100% distracted by each other speaking Spanish.

Captain Jellie confirmed official Kestral faction leader

[keirawantstocry]

wait i just saw your prev fitpacbo post with tony and molly

may i propose fitpac noticing tubbos been possessed by three (demons?) krow, owen and bek

peepoShy <3

ah yes tony. my favorite streamer. also i once again made the possession even worse then originally asked

Tubbo slept for hours after the gods and goddess finally left his body. Fit and Pac made sure to watch over him while he slept.

They were talking quietly to each other, flirting gently when he finally woke up with a loud gasp. Tubbo shot up from his place on the bed and stared at them with unnerving eyes.

"I am Tubbo," said a androgynous very much not Tubbo voice.

"No you're not," Fit said with a quiet laugh. "Are you one of the ones we've met before?" It didn't sound like anyone they had met but he was unsure.

"Yes, I am. I do gay roleplay. Typical Tubbo behavior."

"Aimsey!" called a deeper voice, still not Tubbo, from Tubbo's mouth.

A lighter voice cut in. "Nope, that's Tubbo. We are Tubbo. Egg. Parenthood. Where is my daughter Sunny?"

The amount of voice fighting for dominance was overwhelming at this point.

"Hey, hey," Pac said, sitting down beside Tubbo's body on the bed. "Can we get some actual introductions so we can keep track of who's speaking?"

"And," Fit cut in. "Is Tubbo there right now?"

The first voice, Aimsey, shook Tubbo's head. "It's funnier this way isn't it?"

"I'm Krow!" said the masculine voice that revealed Aimsey's name in the first place.

"I'm Izzy," the light voice said.

"I'm Tubbo," Aimsey continued to insist while laughing.

A new voice, one that reminded them of Molly, a voice of reason, joined the mix. "Tubbo isn't here right now," they said. "He should be back soon. But for now you have us." She grinned with Tubbo's mouth, and once again it looked so strange, so unlike anything Tubbo would smile like. "Call me Becky. Owen is here as well but he's being a bit quiet. Tubbo's tired. The revival has taken a lot out of him so we're taking care of him for now."

"Where's Sunny?" Izzy asked. "I want to meet the child."

"Sunny is asleep," Pac explained. "How much longer are you guys gonna be here?"

Almost as if on queue his eyes flickered strangely and all the voices made pained noises. "Not much longer," Becky said. "His body is struggling. Revival isn't easy you know and neither is..." they paused. "Five gods and goddesses possessing your mind. It doesn't do any physical damage, our immortal spirits are actually helping heal him but it's a lot to wrap your mind around."

Aimsey cut in. "Which is why he isn't here right now. Too many voices, it would be overwhelming for his mortal mind."

"That's fascinating," Pac said breathlessly. He had always been curious how exactly possession worked after the few times he had met Mine and even Mumza through Phil. Adding Tubbo to the mix just peaked his curiosity even more. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

Not Tubbo considered it. "Just... take care of him, yeah?" It was hard to tell who was speaking, it seemed like they all agreed on this statement as their voices blended into one. "Take care of him in the ways that we can't."

"Of course," Fit said immediately. "We'll do everything we can."

[bekandrew]

Wife and I are currently in a financial bind because wife's mental illness mental illness-ed when under additional stress of their phone suddenly needing repairs (another expense we weren't exactly ready for but could have eaten if not for Symptom aggravation)

They don't currently have access to a therapist/psych because their last one decided they were well enough to drop them when the clinic lost staff, plus don't currently have the freedom to take time off work with me being currently unable to work a normal/lucrative job.

We're at risk of being unable to pay for the water bill, the payment plan from my recent surgery, uber fare for me to get to my dr. appointment this week, and gas for wife to get to work.

$78.24/205

Water - $85

Surgery payment plan - $50

Uber to/from Dr. Appt - $45

Gas for about 2 weeks - $25

I have complete art prints and TTRPG products available on my marketplaces at linktr.ee/bekandrew if you'd like something in return

I can also take (art and writing) commission requests at this time (details in pinned post and linktree), and you'd pay the downpayment of half after we agree what it is. I'm finishing up a large commission and may take more time than usual to start.

If you'd rather donate, my cashapp is $bekandrewttrpg and my Paypal is paypal.me/bekandrewTTRPG

[waterm3lon-bek]

imagine if we talked abt western bands the same way we talk about kpop groups

[fairly-linked]

Please read if you get seasonal depression/ winter blues

For all the bad bitches out there who get the winter blues, I wanna let you in on a secret that I've just discovered about a week ago:

Vitamin D and Magnesium. Helps with a number of things, but mainly depression and anxiety.

Winter's hard on everyone, but some more than others.

I've been taking both for the last several days and honestly? It does help. It's no permanent fix, but it's just a little something to manage it better.

Please try it if you get seasonal depression like I do. Amazon sells light therapy lamps made for people who get seasonal depression: they're little lamps that imitate sunlight and increase vitamin D production. So far, I'm super happy with my purchase; the one I bought was $20.

Please, please take care of yourselves during the winter. It's so important. Even if everyone likes to pretend it isn't, it is. You can't function properly if you're not feeling well enough to do so.

[kaihuntrr]

part twelve: watched.

Welcome to Crescent Bay! ...Why is everyone so silent...?

god unrelated to the fic but somehow grian, gem, and pearl are fish/fishing/ocean themed in season ten what the HELL am i just good at predicting things or-- (pls will i be getting the motivation to draw them. it would be SO funny. i still need to draw pirates scott and sp scott im so silly)

Dark, heavy clouds loomed over the island as harsh winds blew against Martyn. The island was unlike any island he’d ever seen before. The bright, bustling, and sunny port he and the Canaries called home felt like a distant memory. The streets here were sparse with both light and people. Windows were either shut or boarded up, and there were barely any ships in the port. The people who were outside were staring at the hunters as if they were ghosts.

Joel, Scar, and Bdubs left the ship first. Martyn, Lizzie, and Cleo joined them a moment afterwards.

Martyn leaned close to Joel, whispering, “Are you sure this was the best place to dock?” He glanced around the port. “It doesn’t look too inviting.”

The people continued to stare at them. Martyn couldn’t help but stare back at them. The peoples’ faces looked worn and tired, as if they hadn’t slept for weeks. Their vacant, hollow expressions felt like staring into the abyss. 

Martyn couldn’t help but wonder if that was how he looked after he saw that sea prince. Maybe that was why he felt so unnerved.

“It was the only nearby island based on the map,” Joel crossed his arms. “It was either this, or we’re stuck with annoying hunters while finding a better place to dock.”

“I think I would’ve preferred the wait,” Martyn mumbled. He shook his head, “What are the plans?”

Grian and Mumbo exited the ship. Grian looked around, “We should find a place for the Kites and ourselves to stay at. Then, we’ll look for a place to eat.” Martyn hadn’t noticed his approach so his sudden voice caused Martyn to flinch. Grian hummed, “I wouldn’t mind exploring a bit.”

Seeing Grian made Martyn’s heart twist. “Yeah, me too,” He smiled. He walked up to his captain and nudged him gently, “Grian, can we talk?”

Grian narrowed his eyes and looked away. “Not now. We have to get them settled,” He shook his head. He turned to some of the Canaries, “Joel, Lizzie, Mumbo, and Bdubs. Could you four go with Kites and arrange things for an inn? The rest of us can check out the island.”

Martyn furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms, his gaze dropping to the ground as the wind passed by. Joel glanced between Martyn and Grian before approaching his brother.

Joel tilted his head. “Sounds good, but,” he put a hand on Grian’s shoulder, “I can do all the leading stuff if you’re upset.”

Grian forced a grin. “Upset? Me? No, I’m not,” he said and laughed unconvincingly. Grian looked away from Joel, “Let’s just get everything sorted.”

Martyn turned his head as he heard groans coming from a couple of Kites. Bek stomped down the gangplank. Tubbo’s eyes were wide, examining the new port while Katherine’s were narrowed. The rest of the Kites followed with either annoyed or curious reactions. It doesn’t look like they were too familiar with this place either.

“There’s no point in arguing, Bek,” Martyn overheard one of the Kites speak. “The sooner we cooperate, the sooner we can leave.”

“We can walk around on our own!” Bek rolled her eyes and shoved his hands down his pockets. 

“Not here, not when you don’t have all your gear. Come on.” Cleo jerked their head, indicating for the others to follow. The small dock wouldn’t fit all of them, so it’d be best to enter the town proper. 

Joel and Grian led the walk, the Kites trailing behind the Canaries as the hunters eagerly looked around. Martyn wished he didn’t feel so many eyes on him.

Joel stood on the left side while Grian stood on the right. Lizzie, Mumbo, and Bdubs followed Joel as Martyn, Scar, and Cleo stood next to Grian. Martyn looked at Grian, but the captain stared outward. Cleo and Scar gave Martyn warm smiles, and he smiled back weakly.

“Fiiine,” Bek groaned. She stopped next to Joel, her expression sour. She blinked as she saw Katherine walk over to stand by Martyn. “Katherine? You’re not coming with us?”

Martyn was just as surprised as Bek was.

Katherine shook her head. “I may have been on the ship with you, but I’m not a Kite. You’ll be fine,” she shrugged. “I want to see the island for myself, too.”

“Tell us if there’s something cool!”

“Will do!” Katherine smiled. She looked at Grian and gave him a sheepish grin, “I hope you don’t mind me tagging along.”

“Oh, of course not,” Grian shook his head and smiled. “It’s good to have more company around.”

“We’ll catch you in a few hours, when it gets dark,” Joel called out to Grian. Thunder rumbled overhead, sending a shiver up the captain’s spine. He forced a smile, “Er, darker. See you soon.”

Grian nodded, looking up at the sky before staring back at his brother, “Stay safe.”

Of course, there had to be a storm.

Rain was dangerous, Martyn knew that, and it’d be best to find a covered area soon. For some reason, it felt safer to be on a ship than on land when it rained. At least then, their weapons were closer.

The hunters walked through the nearly desolate streets, searching for anything anyone could deem as interesting. Martyn wanted to get his mind off of the stares. There was nothing too interesting to point out, the buildings were all boarded up and closed. An eerie howl filled his ears. 

The group was also fairly silent. Everyone was too preoccupied to really talk, it seemed, until Scar cleared his throat. 

“So,” Scar hummed as he looked at Katherine, “What brought you aboard the Kites’ ship?”

Katherine chuckled. “I was hired by them. Unlike you guys, I don’t hunt with just one crew,” she shook her head and puffed out her chest. “I like flying solo.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely without a crew?” Scar raised an eyebrow.

Katherine shook her head. “The opposite, actually,” she grinned. “You get to meet so many people! It’s never a dull moment when you’re moving all the time. What’s it like to have one?”

“They’re like siblings you never wished you had,” Cleo laughed. “They’re the worst.” Cleo rolled their eyes with a smile as Scar nudged them. 

Martyn laughed along with them, but his eyes flickered to Grian, who seemed to prefer staying quiet for the moment. 

I hope we can find some time alone later, I need to talk to him.

Martyn bit his lip, unable to say anything as he looked away from the others. He tuned out their conversation, but occasionally looked back to see them smiling and laughing, then looking over to see Grian with his arms crossed and his head down. It wasn’t wise to talk about Grian’s outburst in public, unless Martyn wanted to bring more attention to them.

Katherine, Scar, and Cleo walked ahead of Martyn and Grian. Grian didn’t seem aware of it. Martyn sighed but put on a smile as he gently tapped Grian’s shoulder.

“A storm sure is brewing,” Martyn looked up at the dark sky above. Thunder rumbled as he narrowed his eyes, “How’s the sightseeing?”

Grian shrugged, “Not much going on, by the sounds of things,” he crossed his arms. “I can’t hear much either. The whole town’s practically a dead zone.”

“You could say that again,” Martyn looked around, a shiver crawling up his spine. “What are we hoping to find here?”

“I was hoping to find some carpenters and ammunition stores for the ship and our weapons,” Grian sighed. “But these townsfolk don’t appear to be selling any of those.”

“I’m sure there’s at least one, we just need to keep walking,” Martyn forced a small smile. If he were honest, he wasn’t sure if there were any naval stores around here. If there weren’t any gates protecting the people from the sea, there might not be any stores with weapons to protect themselves from danger– even on the island. Martyn shook his head, “I hope the others find a place to stay soon.”

Grian nodded. “Me too, I’m pretty exhausted,” he looked around before staring at Martyn. He kept his voice in a whisper, “Are you still hurt from the fall?”

Martyn blinked. “I’m… I’m fine,” he placed a hand on Grian’s shoulder “But I’m worried about you, Grian.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be good,” Grian moved Martyn’s hand off of his shoulder. His stomach grumbled as he placed his hand on top of it, “I’m getting a bit hungry, though.”

Right. They haven’t eaten much yet. Martyn remembered eating a few snacks, but they wouldn’t fill him as much as a warm plate of food would. Martyn’s own stomach grumbled as he closed his eyes and briefly saw himself with Scott, the ginger playfully giggling while having Martyn to eat his fill in The Golden Apple.

Martyn sighed. Remember your promise.

Martyn smelled the air. It smelled of ash and rain, but there was something else. Something… good. There was food nearby, and likely, a tavern.

Martyn nudged the captain, “It smells like something’s cooking nearby. I think there’s a tavern,” he turned towards Grian and smiled, then he looked forward to see Katherine, Scar, and Cleo still entrenched in their conversation. “Hey guys!” Martyn called out, the three turned their heads towards him, “Do you want to get some food and drink?”

Katherine shook her head. “I’m good. I want to search the stalls up ahead for anything interesting to bring home,” she turned to Scar and Cleo. “What about you two?”

“I think it’d be safer to travel in groups for a while, so I’ll stay with Katherine.” Cleo smiled.

Best to travel in groups in an unfamiliar place.

“I’ll stay with Katherine too!” Scar grinned. An amused chuckle came out of Katherine as Scar placed his hands on his waist. “Besides, I’m not hungry at all.”

It’ll just be me and Grian, then.

“I’m sure you two can handle yourselves,” Katherine crossed her arms and nodded at Martyn and Grian. She turned around, “Don’t get killed in there!” She, Cleo, and Scar left for the stalls ahead, leaving Grian and Martyn to follow the smell.

This tavern wasn’t as fancy as Scott’s. It was an ordinary, square building with stones as a foundation and wooden beams to hold it up. It didn’t look well kept with the chips on the beams and the dirt that stained the dark green wooden walls. Still, a tavern was a tavern, Martyn just needed to suck it up.

Spending all of his time in Scott’s tavern had really spoiled Martyn. 

“After you.” Martyn opened the door and tilted his head at Grian. Grian nodded and walked inside, Martyn following behind as he shut the door behind them. Another crackle of thunder rang through the sky.

The tavern was small, with a sparse number of tables and chairs scattered around the room in an almost disorganized state. Barrels lined the back of the room and a modest bar was set up with one bartender cleaning a shot glass. To Martyn, there was nothing too noteworthy about this place, all of his thoughts remained back at that tavern with Scott. There were barely any people around, yet the moment Martyn closed the door behind him everyone’s heads shot up to stare at the two hunters.

Their murmurs did not go unheard.

“Hunters…” “What are they doing here?” “They’ll be dead for sure.”

Dead?

“What’s with all the whispers?” Martyn tried to avoid the stares in the room as he leaned over to Grian.

“Why would I know?” Grian whispered, a small hiss in his voice.

The bartender looked up at them and gave them a weary smile. “Ah. New faces, I see,” he sighed as Grian and Martyn took a seat on the stools. “I’m sorry that you’re here.”

“Why’s that?” Martyn raised an eyebrow. “The place is freaky, but there’s no need to apologize.”

“Oh, sir, you misunderstand,” the bartender shook his head. He leaned his head from side to side to get a better look at both of them, “You’re both hunters, are you not?”

“We are,” Grian nodded his head. He narrowed his eyes, “What’s the problem?”

“You see, sir, that is the problem,” the bartender turned around to pick up a bottle, then glanced back over his shoulder at the two of them. “Hunters who enter this isle may never leave.”

What?

Martyn let out a chuckle. “That’s ridiculous,” he rolled his eyes. “There wasn’t anything preventing us from entering.”

Apart from the weird tall rocks and dark storm clouds, there wasn’t any obstacle preventing the hunters from coming in. Martyn felt the hairs on his skin rise, but he tried to shake it off. What was he so worried about?

“Crescent Bay welcomes all, but the hunters who enter cannot escape,” The bartender poured a shot of alcohol and moved the small glass in front of Martyn. “Please, take a drink. You’re on edge. On the house.”

“Martyn, don’t.” Grian narrowed his eyes.

One wouldn’t hurt, right?

Martyn was a lightweight. If he got drunk on an island he was unfamiliar with, it could lead to some trouble, yet, when he looked into the intoxicating liquid, all he could see was Scott’s warm smile and his pretty eyes staring back.

“It’s just one shot, don’t worry about me.”

“It hasn’t been poisoned, if that’s what you were wondering,” the bartender poured the liquid into a different shot glass and downed it in one gulp. “See? Everything is just fine.”

Martyn took a small sip out of the glass. He heard Grian’s resigned sigh. “It’s not that….” 

Grian leaned closer to the bartender, resting his arms on the counter. “So,” he tilted his head, “are you saying the island’s cursed?”

The bartender nodded. “That it is.” he sighed. “It’s a nasty enchantment from the Scarlet Witch herself.”

Martyn laughed. “Witches? You’ve got to be kidding me,” he shook his head and waved his hand dismissively before taking another sip. “Witches aren’t real.”

The bartender shook his head. “She’s real. She cursed the island to kill any hunter that tries to leave,” he looked at the hunters with widened eyes. “I've seen bits of the monster myself.” Grian raised an eyebrow, encouraging the man to speak more. “Any time a hunting ship leaves, there’s this mist that just appears, the sky erupts into a storm, and–,” his voice shook as his eyes stared at the floor, “No hunter has ever left alive.”

Martyn took another sip of his drink. A sudden mist and rainstorm, then monsters. He hummed. He swirled the alcohol in the shot glass before downing the rest of it, a sickening feeling formed in his gut almost immediately. The bartender refilled the shot for Martyn without him needing to ask, but he eyed it with an odd look on his face. Focus.

A sudden rainstorm didn’t sound like a problem. It was something hunters needed to be ready for at all times, but the mist stumped him. As far as he knew, the only place that had thick mist would be the world border, or moments in the sea prince stories–

Sea prince stories.

Something about this story made Martyn think. He sipped his shot. His brain was getting fuzzy, but maybe the alcohol could clear it and get him to understand the situation.

Grian shrugged, “A swarm of sea monsters ambushed a nearby hunting ship, I can see why that’s a problem.”

“No, sir, you’ve got that part wrong.” the bartender leaned in, his voice continuing to quiver. His eyes widened, “There’s only one beast that destroys the ships....”

Martyn took a sip from his shot and his eyes locked onto the now overtly nervous bartender. Grian glanced between Martyn and the bartender and nodded, allowing the man time to find his words.

“We here on the island have reason to believe it’s a sea prince.”

The sea prince’s haunting eyes burned in the back of Martyn’s mind, causing him to flinch. He took in deep breaths. 

It was a sea prince, what he’d seen. Somehow, Martyn had found himself staring at one face to face, and now he was on an island that was possibly- likely guarded by a sea prince. It was all lining up, maybe too well. 

“Tell us more,” Grian pressed. Martyn looked at him and at the bartender. Grian’s gaze was locked on the bartender as his hands began to shake.

“Y-You see–,” the bartender crossed his arms and rested against the counter. He took in a deep breath, “It storms so hard during the siege, no one can catch a proper look of the monster. But believe me, it’s much, much larger than any other ship– and its roar sounds like the unholy call of death itself.”

“How does this relate to the Scarlet Witch?”

“The… the Scarlet Witch… she….” The bartender lowered his head, his voice getting softer and softer.

“She made a deal with the sea princes.” A different voice spoke up, causing Martyn and Grian to turn to an elderly man. There was a bottle next to him and a big tankard. He didn’t look drunk- at least Martyn didn’t think so.

“She saw their treasure, and made a contract with them,” he looked at them and sat up from his slouch. “She was promised magic beyond anyone’s comprehension, and in return, she would follow their every command.”

“I’ve never heard that story before,” Martyn said, keeping his voice low.

“That’s because no one is able to tell it, hunter,” a different voice spoke, this time it came from a young woman. “Those who try to leave die. They can’t even spot the sea prince, either. Despite it being so close to the area, no one can discern the features the devil has.”

“The demon can’t even be spotted by normal ships! It’s like a ghost!” One of the other patrons stood from their seat, their voice loud and frantic. 

“A terrifying ghost monster!” Another patron shouted. “It’ll come for us all if we ever leave!” The sudden surge of noise startled Martyn- riled up over a ghostly sea prince that doomed hunting ships and scared others. 

“Oh, quiet down!” The young woman glared at the other patrons and leaned back on her chair. “That’s how no one can tell this story. People would think we’re making it up, but there comes the risk in escaping this island,” she motioned with her hands before shaking her head and crossing her arms. “So most of us resigned our fates here.”

No one is able to tell this story, huh?

“Then we’ll be the first,” Martyn grinned confidently. “Because we’re the Canaries; we’re the king’s hunters, and we’ll take down a sea prince!”

Usually- that was followed by a roar of applause after Martyn would say such a statement, but there was only silence. Martyn felt heat rise to his cheeks. Embarrassed, he downed the last of his shot and shuddered.

Grian patted Martyn’s shoulder. “I apologize for my friend’s behavior, he’s a lightweight,” he looked at Martyn, then back at the woman. “We’ll heed all of your warnings, though. Is there anything we need to look out for?”

The woman nodded. “A red hood, and she carries around twin blades that look like the moon.”

“We’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” Grian smiled and held Martyn’s shoulder, pulling him to his feet and carefully leading him out of the tavern as it grew silent and dreary once more. The patrons stared after them as Grian shut the door behind him.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Grian muttered quietly. He looked at Martyn and crossed his arms, “And you shouldn’t have drank. We should meet up with Scar and the others.”

Was Grian not going to talk about what they just learned? It was groundbreaking! Someone made a contract with the sea princes– and even saw their treasure! Maybe Martyn was a little freaked out, but that meant he wasn’t the only one spared from a sea prince’s hunger.

Someone else had seen one, and lived.

Maybe the Scarlet Witch could even answer why the sea prince hadn’t eaten him. She could know so much more about the sea princes, and their power, and their treasure that the world had never heard of before. 

He needed to find her.

“Don’t you want to seek out the Scarlet Witch?” Martyn’s eyes widened as he placed his hands on Grian’s shoulder, visibly excited. “She might be our key to everything!”

Grian forced a grin and pushed Martyn off. “Can we talk about that when you aren’t drunk?” he shook his head. “Come on, I see Cleo. Let’s go join them.” Grian motioned for Martyn to follow him, sending one last glance at him before walking forward. They weren’t too far away, so Martyn didn’t feel the need to hurry after Grian. He could catch up.

Martyn was left alone on the desolate street before he heard the sound of scraping gravel behind him.

He turned his head.

Nothing.

It was nothing more than an empty street, barrels and boxes littered around carelessly. 

Martyn shuddered as the breeze kicked up a chill around him and he shook his head. Nothing was there. “...Alright alright, I’m coming.” He raised his shoulders and walked forward with a slight wobble in his step. He really shouldn’t have been drinking.

Martyn could have sworn he saw something down the empty street. 

And he’d be right.

[tomjamesavery]

Because people asked me, I made some more Harry Potter Characters with AI, all still based on the descriptions and prompts from @breaniebree for her story and Universe of ASC

The only one I didn't manage to get right was Ginny, I just wasn't able to get a redhead girl with brown eyes who had her "distinctive look" for some reason lol

Starting with Harry, I sadly didn't manage the lightning Bolt scar.

Prompt: "A 20 year old man called Harry potter, with a sharp jawline, emerald green eyes, dark stubble beard, messy black hair, round glasses and a small lightning bolt scar on his forehead"

Next would be Ginny Weasley and for some reason, I just didn't get her right, mainly the eye colour but she also looks a bit too "innocent" lol!

Prompt: "A brave, strong-minded 20 year old woman with a determined look on her face called Ginny Weasley looking like Bonnie Wright, dark brown eyes, fiery hair and lots of freckles"

I also tried it without having Bonnie wright as a reference!

After that we have Hermione.

Prompt: "A 20 year old woman called Hermione Granger looking like Emma Watson with brown eyes and brown, unruly, curly hair"

Next one would be Draco Malfoy who is pretty spot on in my opinion!

Prompt: "A white blond 20 year old good looking man called Draco Malfoy looking like Tom Felton, black suit, dark gloomy"

Next Blaise Zabini, is also alright!

Prompt: A 20 year old good looking man called Blaise Zabini as a mix of Rege-Jean Page and Shemar Moore, dark suit, smug look

Next is Tonks again, just because the world can't have enough Tonks on it.

Prompt: "A 25 year old cool looking woman called Nymphadora Tonks looking like Keira Knightley with grey eyes and short pink hair"

Next is Walburga Black, Sirius´ Mum, which turned out good in my opinion!

Prompt: "A 40 year old beautiful evil looking woman called Walburga Black looking like Eva Green in a beautiful black dress, dark, gloomy"

Next would be Barty Crouch Jr, who is scary lol

Prompt: "A deranged 30 year old man called Barty Jr looking like Bill Skarsgard smiling, dark robes, dark gloomy"

Next the Greengrass Sisters starting with Daphne who turned out great in my opinion!

Prompt: "An arrogant beautiful 20 year old woman called Daphne Greengrass looking like Blake Lively, wizarding dress"

And her younger sister Astoria Greengrass, also turned out good!

Prompt: "A beautiful 20 year old woman called Astoria Greengrass looking like Katie McGrath"

Next, two Brothers and not the nicest of companions, starting with Rabastan Lestrange

Prompt: "An evil looking man called Rabastan lestrange looking like Cillian Murphy, dark suit, dark gloomy"

And his older brother Rodolphus Lestrange

Prompt: " A 40 year old evil looking man called Rodolphus lestrange looking like Peter Greene, dark wizarding robe, dark gloomy"

Next, something I tried, I am not too sure of, Augusta Longbottom, the Vulture hat sadly didn't work.

Prompt: "A confident, good looking 60 year old lady called Augusta longbottom with a determined look on her face in a wizarding dress"

Next, an Original Character, created by @breaniebree, Fiadh Alexander a Fae, also Fred Weasley´s Girlfriend.

Prompt: "A 25 year old beautiful woman called Fiadh Alexander looking like Tiana Benjamin with pale skin short straight black hair and emerald green eyes"

And speaking of Fred, we have the Twins Fred and George Weasley! (Fred on the left, and George with a beard on the right)

Prompt: "Two 20 year happy looking men, they are twins, called Fred and George Weasley, looking like Kenneth Bek, with red-orange hair and stubble, right one with a beard"

And at the end another great Original Character by @breaniebree Sebastian Kane, but Iam not too sure if he meets her expectations lol

Prompt: "A 25 year old man called Sebastian Kane looking like Francis Cadieux with dark brown hair and light blue eyes, stubble and broad shoulders"

All Credit for the Character Info goes to @breaniebree

Check out her stories ASC and TFTA where these Characters are in:

ASC: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12924292/1/A-Second-Chance

TFTA: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14061727/1/The-First-Time-Around

[mosscloakenthusiast]

MCYT Yuri week day 1 - dance/break

[for the full experience, this song is what the pianist is playing, and i think it's quite nice so go give it a listen while you read. it took me half the time i spent on this to pick what song to use so indulge me give a listen]

[also posted on my ao3! ]

Someone’s playing piano in the house. It’s soft, and clunky, and honestly half the notes are wrong. Bekyamon doesn’t quite understand music, not properly, honestly it seems quite complicated, and when she runs across the piano full speed it’s seen as a nuisance, so frankly the fact that humans can get away with doing basically the same thing is more than rude.

But, despite all of this, Bek is drawn out of the fight club, to at least stand in the middle of the attic and try and absorb some of the fanciness of it. El would probably like this, after all. She’s pretty easily swayed by that sort of argument.

And, speak of the devil, Eloise has also been drawn out by the music, apparently. El’s listening quite intently. Which catches Bek’s attention, if for no other reason than. Well. She’s pretty. Bek’s easy enough to please.

And, Bek not quite looking away fast enough, El catches their gaze, holding it a second too long.

“See I thought you’d claim to be too cool for music, Bekyamon.” She’s smiling, never quite serious. Somehow she’s got paint stuck in her fur, painting a rainbow across her face. 

“I am too cool for music but, hey, if a lovely lady such as yourself is so invested in it, I can’t blame you.” Bek sidles closer, taking her chances. “Especially one looking rather charming covered in paint.”

“Oh the- Yeah. I got really into my painting, and completely lost track of time.”

“Can I see it?”

“Not until it’s done. It’s a whole lot of nothing right now mate, to be honest.”

“Something enough to get paint everywhere though?” 

“I guess.” El falls quiet, once again seemingly absorbed in the piano music. Bek thinks, as much as she loves talking, maybe now is a moment to hush. Let the rat think. Whatever it is she’s so focused on.

She’s following the music, nodding her head in time with the beat, humming occasionally. They’re not far from a window, and light from the moon streams it, hitting El’s back, and almost making her glow. Bek thinks that’s a bit cliché, even more so to tell her, so instead goes for something which arguably is worse. She gently grabs El’s paw. Now she might have really fucked this, but she’s a rat of many talents, namely being incredibly bold and punching good, so not much in the world could stop her right now.

“What’s on your mind?” She asks, trying not to reveal how much her own head is filled entirely with the Eloise in front of her.

“The music isn’t right. They’ve skipped a couple notes, and it’s really getting on my nerves. It’s not meant to be a waltz, it’s really a more consistent rhythm.”

“You know the song?” Of course she knows the song. Why wouldn’t a rat born from aristocracy know every single song. Bek decides to pretend she doesn’t find that really sweet.

“I used to hear it played a lot by my old bin. Someone nearby loved it. It's called, uh-” And El freezes, suddenly all attention on Bek, eyes that Bek could fall into forever. “Don’t laugh.”

Bek, risktaker, grabs El’s other paw. “I wouldn't. Well, I might, but only because you’re quite pretty.”

“It’s called, uh, What Falling In Love Feels Like.”

Oh. uh, “Oh. is it- would you say it’s accurate?”

“I’m not sure I know enough about love.”

Of course. Killer blow. The musician plays a note that horribly clashes and Bek crashes herself back down to Earth.

“Maybe…” El hasn’t made any effort to remove her paws from the other’s grip, “Maybe you could show me?”

Bek does stifle a giggle, if just because she’s being sent on a bloody roller coaster right now. “Show you what falling in love feels like? How would I do that, besides my general charms and nice face, eh?”

“Someone told me at some point it was like dancing. Would you- care to dance?”

“I won’t promise to be good-”

“Oh you’re a fighter, it’s the same skill set really.” El says, clearly having made up her mind, and she pulls Bek properly flush to her, and begins to step in time with the waltz, counting under her breath. Bek has to rip her eyes away from El’s to watch their feet, match the rhythm, not completely trample the rat she has a crush on who just asked her to show her what falling in love felt like. Which is in itself a crazy situation. So she’s not going to fuck it up by stepping wrong.

And it is a bit like fighting, in terms of following your partner’s movements reverently, leaning when they lean, saying when they sway. Bek risks spinning El, twirling her and then grabbing her hand again, and El seems delighted, as small specks of paint fly off her face.

“You look beautiful.” Bek admits, painstakingly honest compared to her usual advances.

“So do you, actually. I think-” El cuts herself off, focusing again on the dance, resting her head on Bek’s chest. “I- you’re-” “Don’t worry about that right now, eh? Dance with me. Worry about that later.” 

“Will you be here, later?” “Not planning on going anywhere, am I?”

“In which case, I’m going to teach you how to do this properly.”

“I thought I was doing a great job!” El laughs, and it’s like the sun. Yes it’s the middle of the night. Allow Bekyamon some dramatics. 

And they dance as long as the pianist plays, and Bek does get kind of good at it! She swears! And it’s comfortable, and nice, and Bek tries her absolute hardest to ignore her heart going a mile a minute in her chest. 

It’s nice. And Bek is decidedly less shit at dancing by the end of it. And maybe El is somewhat a little bit in love. That would be nice. No promises though.