+{ACT 1}+
A Gold Throne, A Restless Sea of Fears, All Hail King Raoul de Changy.
Hair like the color of straw that just barely went past his chin. Eyes blue and full of wonder. Heir to the throne. Raoul de Changy.
Raoul stared at the ceiling. Well perhaps it had been more glaring than staring. His mind wrestling with itself, the odds of sleep at the moment were limited. He could keep tossing and turning in an attempt to fall back into the clutches of blissful dreams or fitful nightmares. Anything would had been better than facing reality. As if that would fix anything. He didn't know if he wanted to leave his bed yet though and actually face reality. Maybe if he ignored it, he wouldn't have to do anything and life would continue like normal. For that to happen his brother would have to be back, and that was something that Raoul knew would never happen. He rolled over again before knowing he had to attack this issue eventually, thats how one has to be for all of this to work out after all.
He sighed looking out to the window below, today was going to be the day he took the throne from his brother, Philipe de Changy, due to his sudden death. His brother's funeral was not an occasion that he preferred to remember. It was so empty besides a few aunts and friends that he fell out of contact with years ago. His brother hadn't even looked like himself when Raoul saw him that last time. His face was so sickly pale, as he was lowered down. To think, such a beloved king but only a few people at his private funeral. Among them was Christine Daae, since childhood Philipe and Christine's father Gustave Daae, had decided that the two are going to marry. He knew he would have to keep that in mind too. Not that he wanted to think about any of this right now anyways. Of course people had left flowers at the castle gates for around a month or two until the expectation of Raoul stepping up had fully settled in.
The average person could agree that he was not excited for this role whatsoever, yet it was one he knew he had to take. The town below was quiet as the sun just barely peeked over the horizon. The people didn't know what he would truly have to do, all they would know is that they would have a new king, that's all. To think, Raoul never wanted this, he hadn't even had time to get over the death of his brother who practically raised him, he now has a whole kingdom he needs to look after and an arranged marriage to think about! Yet there was nothing he could exactly do, at least not at this moment. His hand slid across the windowsill, no one was awake yet, but they would be soon. He would be swarmed with people trying to make him look perfect, and he had to be perfect. He wasn't ready for this, he was unsure if he would ever be. Yet he is thrown into this role anyways.
He stepped away from the windowsill as if that would clear his head. It did nothing in the process but he was pretending to be hopeful. Sometimes he wished he never had to do any of this. The balls, the clothes and the fancy food was nice but it all came with a price did it not? But he didn't chose this life, he was born into it! Born into it with no chose on what he truly thought. Peasants probably get to chose who they love, and they don't have to worry about how to dance at a ball, he thought. It was all going to whisk him away into a mess of vanity and he just wasn't ready. The air was cool on his face as he looked out into the cool night as it had been wrapping up.
With a sigh he walked out to the main hall, paintings of family members past all glared down at him, judging his every move. Each face unmoving yet twisting to make a worse expression at him at the same time. There was no escape to his fate was there? Even paintings of those long dead had seemed to judge him. With each step he took he felt the weight on his back sink in a little bit more each time. It was practically painful. The morning would begin soon, and his last seconds without responsibility would be gone, maybe he could enjoy the small things, one last time. No one would have to know, right? No, nobody would know.
The birds chirped across the grey sky as he stood out into the back gardens. The roses poked through the bushes and the grass was just becoming green again. Spring was supposed to be a joyous time right? Spring, a time of regrowth and new life, Raoul guessed he was about to live in his new life. His new, lifeless life. Vines spilled across the stones of the garden walls, as if a way for him to climb out, but that obviously wouldn't work. The small path around the garden almost looked like an escape plan, but childish joys wouldn't help him now.
He kicked the ground a bit before walking along the edges of the castle gardens. He used to love to play out here back when he was younger, picking the flowers or rolling in the dirt, only to be scolded quickly after for being improper. Nonetheless what he would do to return to those times now. Those times of freedom, of peace. He had wanted to be a sailor then, for his kingdom's navy, but no prince ever did something so improper. He was told. How he wished to do something improper now. The ocean wouldn't have called him improper, of course not! The ocean was free, free of social norms, free of forced marriages. It's not like he disliked Christine but he didn't love her. He didn't love any part of his life, he just had accepted it by now.
He kept walking through the grass, the nostalgia of childhood so close yet so far. As if he could have almost reached it if he really tried. The sky became bright with a pale blue as the sun grew into it's place in the sky. It shone down at him with all it's cruel mockery. It seemed so bright, but he felt so dull.
Sadly that meant he knew what he had to do now. Goodbye childish joy, goodbye hope, goodbye happiness, hello coronation. Hello becoming king.
{<+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++>}
One of his main maids, Jessette would not stop fussing over him until he was practically caked in fine clothes and his hair with flax seed. It all felt so stiff, but this was his life now apparently. A part of the role must have been that he had to look like a doll as it seems. "There you are."
Sadly here he was indeed. On the cusp of his new existence. Jessette was always motherly to him since childhood. She had been the one dressing him most of the time as a child. He knew he had to go out there soon, but he really didn't want to, it was in fact the last thing he wanted to do. She forced him to sit up, he knew how this ceremony would work. He would have to get anointed by a priest, the crowd would cheer and his freedom would be gone. He knew what he was getting himself into. "You know you will be a great king, sire."
"Don't call me that," he sighed he still didn't want to accept it. He knew he was being a bit rude but this was the last place he wanted to be. To even be called such a title was like acid burned into his skin. It cemented his fate all too much, so he wasn't able to just keep lying to himself. "Alright," Jessette says with a sigh, "Done," she takes a step back and now Raoul has to see a man he doesn't recognize. He doesn't see himself, not anymore, will he ever see himself again or will he just be this shadow of his former self? This isn't him, this never will be him, but it's not like he can do anything. Perhaps this is all one big act that he can miraculously escape from, perhaps he has a chance to leave it all behind, but that won't happen, he doesn't get that chance. He almost wants to cry, but that would be useless now. These final moments, how long will he remember them? Will he for the rest of his life? Or will they float from his mind in seconds? Will he know if he did forget these moments?
He stood up and was escorted out the door. He tried to walk as slowly as possible. He was going to be king. He was going to be the one in charge now. As a child he was always excited about it, thinking he could boss people around, mainly Philipe when it involved rules. But that can't happen anymore now can it? Now he's alone, and to rule alone is not what he wanted. His feet felt heavy as he kept walking. He would probably have an advisor at best, but that wouldn't be the same. Nothing would ever be the same. With each step he loathed the idea of going forward, he would face his soon to be subjects and watch as his last scraps of hope were whisked away. He would marry Christine, and probably have an heir. Philipe's wife Sorelli died before an heir could be produced, that's why he was here.
He could do this, it would probably be fine, but how he didn't want it anyways. How he wanted to run and hide. It would probably be a life of splendor and fun, but how empty it would be. It would be so, so empty. There would be no meaning behind any of it, yet he would be painted into history. Like a statue, emotionless and cold he went inside as the doors opened.
The crowd looked up at him and he sighed just wishing to get this over with. "Now let the coronation begin!"
He stood still as if he could had hopefully disappear if he tried hard enough. The Priest's words slipped through his ears, as he awaited what was to come. Each phrase bounced off his head to the point of the room could had been completely quiet and he wouldn't have noticed. The crowd made him feel as if it was gnawing at him, as if they were to tear him apart. It was almost as if they would've had he done anything wrong. He'd heard about royals being beheaded, a part of him hoped that would happen to him, to truly end his pain before it ever started. He didn't know whether or not the crowd would turn against him, it was all a guessing game.
"Now Raoul de Changy, say the vow presented before being anointed"
Oh right, he had forgotten about that part, but even if he forgot the words themselves, the phrase was so ingrained in his memory he had got it across. He had been taught it so many times, even though many assumed it would not have mattered but nonetheless he was taught as a just in case. Despite how much he wanted to cry out against this all, he couldn't, a kingdom needed him. He wanted to scream, to break down, to lash out, something but nothing good would have ever came of it, so his mouth stayed shut. Until he knew he had paused on for too long. The words fell from his mouth slowly, just as he wished to do so long ago, how foolish he was.
"I will to my power for Law and Justice, with Mercy, and it will be executed in all my judgements. I will to the utmost of my power maintain the Laws of God and the true goal of the Gospel. I will to the utmost of my power maintain in the de Changy bloodline, the Protestant Reformed Religion established by law."
He didn't believe in anything he was saying, it was just something to get over with. It's not like he was against anyone being royalty as long as they led with a good heart, it just was not for him. His voice hadn't even sounded like his own, it sounded like it belonged to another person. Someone much more confident, someone much more ready, someone much more enthusiastic. As he finished he could hear as the crowd clapped. Oil was poured on his head, so much for all that work on his hair. Hadn't everything in royalty been pathetically frivolous, but who had he been to judge, he had enjoyed it all the way. He stared off into the distance as if he could have run there. Now here comes King Raoul de Changy...he thought to himself. He took a bow as was custom. He just wanted this to all end, but he knew that would be a while. Weren't people supposed to be happy when they were crowned, he didn't think anything was wrong with him for not being happy about it.
"And I now pronounce you, King Raoul de Changy the first!"
Oh how he hated that title. Oh how he hated it so much. Soon he would have been swarmed by a court of nobles, as they tried to not look meager in front of him. As if he truly cared. They would flaunt their praises and he would want to disappear. He didn't like being this way, perhaps he was too swept up in everything.
A crown had been placed on his head, feeling far to heavy, like a rock about to sink him down into restless waters. This had cemented his fate, like a chain on his neck forever. Never ending, never relenting that had seemingly decided to be his life now. To think, many had assumed a crown to be a symbol of great power but it felt more like a cage than anything. A cage that had made him look perfect, a constant performance. Royalty.
{<+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++>}
Well here he was now, king. How funny it was that he was here now, he didn't want to be. There were obviously plans to be made for tomorrow that he didn't wish to deal with. The entire thought of this being his new life left him frantically pacing. But there was no way out of it so why was he even rejecting his destiny? Perhaps it was the way his mind worked, or something along those lines. Christine hadn't entered the palace yet, he wasn't sure if she wanted her to show at all. Not that she was bad it's just it would truly remind him his fate. He just wanted to lie to himself a little bit longer, but that wasn't possible now.
There would probably had been a big celebration, where he would have had to participate. He would of had to act like everything was fine. The celebration could have continued on without him for all he cared. He didn't mind but that wasn't his choice. There would probably have been great food and dances, that he would have had to suffer through. His brother should have been the one doing all of this, not him. He would have to keep pretending to be fine anyways. This had just been the passage of life, nothing to fuss over that is what many had thought. He would of had to be fine, he was the one in charge. It felt like everything was going to swallow him whole. Like the light that was once there had been switched off. Why had it been him? He wished his brother was still, he wished he wasn't alone in this. He wished and wished for all these things he knew he would never get. What was he going to do? He wasn't ready to run a kingdom. At least he didn't have to hide his emotions anymore, as tears welled in his eyes. He just wanted to run. Was he weak for having wanted that? Had he really been that pathetic? Was he destined to be a failure of a king? He needed to make this work. There was no way out. He had to be king, but his breath was shaking and he had only feared the worst. He had to be a horrible, horrible king. He wanted to see his brother again, he would have solved this. Raoul didn't like to think that he was weak but at the same time he knew he was not ready.
No, what had he been saying, he had to be king, or he would have failed everyone. His kingdom had not fallen into despair, nor had it ever. Raoul refused to break that line, it was about excellence. Raoul couldn't worry about little things anymore. He had to just take it, that was his duty. He knew this from the start, he had to stop whining and take it. He tried to stand but his legs felt too weak, so there he sat, curled up, he truly was pathetic. He was supposed to be royalty yet he was crying like a child! He had to gain some confidence in himself and he take it head on. He feared he couldn't though. That was what had been holding him back.
Although his acceptance to such a role was begrudging, to fight it would had made things worse. It would had been truly pathetic.
Yet as the moon had begun to show through the window, he knew tomorrow would be a long day, so he picked himself up off the floor.
He was Raoul de Changy, the newest king in the de Changy dynasty.
And he had just been proclaimed king.
(This is the fanfic the memes are based off of)
Tried something new with my artstyle today hope y’all don’t mind :) Also I am still figuring out how to draw these nerds 😭
(and yes this was for Yaelorke's drawing event :D)
Henry stays curled up on the floor, refusing to move. He stares at Joyce who is cooking up lunch for everyone. Eleven is sitting beside him, he can't make out what she is telling him but is pretending to pay attention, it would be rude not to after all. The TV is playing softly in the background and Henry's attention is divided between Eleven and 'ThunderCats'. "Are you listening?" Eleven asks, leading Henry to glance back over to her. "Yes..yes I am.." Henry stammers, his mind feeling a bit fuzzy as he leans his back against the couch. "No you aren't" Eleven says, her tone is not accusatory, more of just an observation. Although it does make Henry a bit nervous, he should be listening more! "Sorry.." Henry mutters, going quiet. "Not mad," Eleven adds, standing up to go join Joyce in the kitchen. Henry remains where he is, watching Eleven talk with Joyce. Why didn't he pay attention back there? He's being a bad friend. He tries to go back to watching ThunderCats to think about something else, but his mind goes back to the past.
"Now Henry don't start crying, you brought this upon yourself." Henry stared up at Papa, terrified. A shock collar was firm around Henry's neck, he knew he messed up, but he just didn't want to do a test for a day, was that so bad? Yea and maybe he had borrowed some of the reward candy Brenner kept around, but that wasn't a really big deal. Apparently, it was more then Henry had thought. Brenner glared over him as Henry kept sobbing out apologies, knowing how this was going to end. Henry never thought he was the type to beg, but maybe he was. Then the button was pressed. It all happened so fast but so slow at the same time. Electricity raced through Henry as his muscles convulsed. He wanted to scream, but was in too much pain to do so. It almost felt like he was going to die but that was too merciful. Henry curled up on himself, trying to make the pain stop but it only seemed to get worse. He gazed up at Papa, who was unmoved by Henry's suffering. Afterwards, he was dragged back to his cell like a rag doll. It was so cold, he knew that a fourteen year old shouldn't be acting like a child. Yet he remained curled up in a ball, sobbing his eyes out, just like a child. "Mom can you come get me? Mom.. Mom please..Mommy.." The words slipped from his mouth without a thought through his head. Henry chewed on his knuckle a bit, knowing that request would never be fulfilled.
"Henry? HENRY?" Joyce calls, it is not a fun surprise to see the boy you consider a son have a full on PTSD breakdown while watching ThunderCats, but that is life sometimes. Joyce keeps Henry in her arms to keep him from hurting himself on accident. Henry's couldn't really hear much besides the blood rushing in his ears, and his head felt fuzzier then before. "Henry what happened?" Joyce asks, calming down a bit when Henry begins to relax slightly. Henry feels his words caught in his throat as the question registers only letting out a soft whimper, before leaning against Joyce. She sighs, more just happy to see that Henry is okay.
Henry eventually struggles against Joyce before walking away. Joyce meanwhile is very confused about the entire situation, and decides to assume that twenty years in the lab affected his behavior, which is probably the correct answer. Henry storms off, mainly mad at himself that he blew up like that, it was a foolish thing to do. He opens his door to his room before closing it and flopping down on his bed. He curls up on himself, anger building up against himself now that he's alone. First he doesn't listen to what Eleven was saying and now he made Joyce worry about him? What is he doing? Henry sniffles, feeling like he is going to start crying again. He slowly stumbles to a stand, his at best toddler mindset deciding that drawing out his feelings is a better idea then sobbing his eyes out.
So here he sits, crayon in hand as he draws a spider. Why a spider, because it is the best animal- bug?- creature in Henry's honest and reliable opinion. It also helps him calm down at least a little bit. The spider is purple, and in the center of the page. Henry babbles to himself while drawing, not really knowing what he is saying, when the door opens.
Eleven walks in slowly, seeming nervous, but knowing what is happening at least. Now she doesn't know the word for it but she does know the symptoms. Henry has 'slipped' like this in the past, mainly in the Rainbow Room. She would see him get excited over some of the toys in there when he thought he was alone, or overall just getting a bit childish. Eleven doesn't think it's a bad thing necessarily, the lab was hell, whatever made it easier for him in her opinion. She stands next to Henry glancing at what he is drawing. "Cool," she says, he nods not responding but Eleven expected this. "Are you mad at me?" Eleven asks. Henry quickly shakes his head, horrified at even the suggestion. "Okay," Eleven says, feeling a bit better. "Well I'm not mad at you either," Eleven proclaims. Henry relaxes at that, a small smile forming on his face. Eleven decides not to dwell on the topic too much, choosing to draw with Henry instead. She grabs a chair and sits by him, grabbing a crayon from the box. Henry nods and they begin to draw together. The quiet between them is nice, and Henry feels better again.
"Kids lunch!" Joyce calls out, Eleven grabs Henry's hand, abandoning the pile of drawings temporarily. "Come on," Eleven says "and maybe after lunch we can see if ThunderCats is on"
Robotnik is the little spoon
Stone is the better chef
They def have coffee every sunday (Stone always makes it, coffee shops are inferior)
Robotnik's a light sleeper and wears a crunky nightgown
Stone drew Stonbotnik fanart back before Robotnik knew Stone liked him.
Robotnik has a tumblr
Robotnik bullies kids on roblox
Stone plays minecraft with Robotnik and puts their beds next to each other
Robotnik likes minecraft story mode
For my bestie :D
reblog to give a trans man a delicious bowl of mac and cheese
Fr
My honest reaction to Mr. Solheim
Ok so my Good Omens fanart is blowing up so have some more :D
Henry deserved to go to Dr. Brenner, he was too dangerous to be with his family anymore, and Virginia was doing what she thought best, Henry Creel is a monster. He doesn't deserve a redemption arc and should die in season five. Dr. Brenner was just keeping Henry in check, in reality his blood has helped science. Henry Creel was never a good person
So basically here is the backstory of my Yaelorke oc, Thistle!! {also Idk this lore is somewhat loose/might not be fully accurate to the world of Meadowlark} Thistle who’s original name was Jamie, was around 12 years old when their parents left them at a religious boarding school to “correct their behavior” because Thistle didn’t believe in the same things they did. Thistle couldn’t take it anymore and at around age 14 managed to escape the boarding school and flee for the woods. They didn’t want to be connected to their past and the name “Jamie” was one of those connections, so they changed their name to Thistle! They traveled around different towns and villages, trading things to go from their school uniform, to the outfit they have now and to get the stuff they have now. They made their mask by finding sticks and the occasional discarded porcupine quill for that part of their mask. For the main face part they carved out wood to make the shape! They now roam around the woods freely, carving wood to trade with people, and wandering about singing and playing the tambourine (although they dont know much about music)
{I promise more art soon I just wasn’t in the mood to draw rn :D }