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total-drama-brainrot · 1 month

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TD World Tour AU, where Noah doesn't tell Owen that Alejandro is an eel in London... In Area 51, Noah is accidentally splashed with an alien truth potion (which wears off after a few days) and he talks to Owen... Owen asks Noah what he truly thinks about Alejandro, and Truth-Potion Affected Noah says this: "I have mixed feelings for Alejandro. He's a brilliant, interesting guy and I like him, but I don't trust him. He's like a slippery eel dipped in grease, swimming in motor oil. Basically, Heather with social skills. Wait a minute, why am I telling you this?!"... What if Alejandro secretly heard Noah call him all those conflicting things + Alejandro also learns that Noah is affected with an alien truth potion? 👽

Alright, you got me. I'm an absolute sucker for truth potion plots, especially when the character(s) effected by them are usually either pathological liars or incredibly secretive- of which Noah absolutely falls into the second category, given he shares so little personal information.

I'll gloss over why Noah declined to shit-talk Alejandro in London (though there's so many ways this change in behaviour could be justified) since the focal point of this hypothetical centred around their time in Nevada, so let's start from the beginning of the Area 51 challenge.

Area 51:

Before we start, it'll have to be established that no one was eliminated in London. Let's say that the majority vote went towards Duncan (team CIRRRRH voted him out immediately because they found his re-admission to the competition unfair, I guess. I imagine he'd also vote himself, if not as a plan to escape the competition he'd been actively skiving from, then just as an act of spite) but Chris instead claimed it was a rewards challenge- much like he does in Greece- because he doesn't want to let Duncan slip away again so soon.

I see no reason to alter the first part of the challenge- the sneaking into Area 51 portion- since team CIRRRRH's course of entry is fairly straightforward. Noah's presence doesn't make much of a difference to how it would play out; the majority of them throw their rocks and run, Owen gets lasered over the fence and Owen-napped, ect ect.

When both teams have managed to make their way into the Black Box Warehouse, Noah immediately suggests they should prioritise rescuing Owen. Tyler's quick to agree, since he's a firm believer in the "no man left behind" mentality (and he probably makes a not-so-subtle jab towards Noah for his chance of tune compared to London, where both he and Owen did leave Tyler behind) leaving Duncan and Alejandro to split from the group- Duncan in search of Gwen, and Alejandro just takes the opportunity to finally be free from his 'incompetent teammates' and prioritises finding an artifact.

Noah and Tyler come across the contraption Owen's trapped in, Tyler punches it in a futile effort to break it open, and the face hugger cube drops into Noah's hands. This is where the point of divergence comes into play; Tyler has his E.T. moment with one of the face huggers, but Noah- who's a tad bit more observant than Alejandro, and used to dodging surprise attacks from his various older siblings (and Izzy)- anticipates his own face hugger attack and promptly starts a game of cat-and-mouse with a taser alien hot on his heels.

The commotion of which attracts the rest of his team. Alejandro and Duncan arrive on the scene to see Tyler being electrocuted by an alien and Noah running in circles evading another.

Duncan attempts to rip the face hugger from Tyler's face, finding success at the cost of sending Tyler trampling into Owen's captive contraption (essentially taking Alejandro's canonical place in this scene) and inadvertently freeing Owen.

Meanwhile, Alejandro swipes up the nearest box he can find and snags the alien chasing Noah, who's still very loudly panicking as he flees, and succeeds! The alien is swiftly captured into the box, netting team CIRRRRH their artifact, and Noah promptly goes careening into the nearest tower of junk in his face hugger-fuelled hysteria. This causes another box to topple from the peak of the tower, landing directly on Noah's head and spilling its contents onto the bookworm- glass vials filled with a mysterious, luminescent cobalt blue liquid shatter into pieces drenching Noah in whatever they contained. (i.e. truth potion.)

Owen has his false-amnesia moment, characterised by his Joker makeover, and Alejandro enacts his revenge post-hypnotic suggestion after being addressed as "Al" one too many times.

Noah, understandably, swiftly objects to Owen's treatment and demands that Alejandro snap him out of it. Alejandro concedes, and Owen's brought back to himself. At least, for a moment, before the fatigue of having his mind messed with sends Owen into near-catatonia (the same as canon), meaning he has to be ferried through the Warehouse and back to the Jet by Alejandro and Duncan.

Things carry on canonically from there; Noah's just sort of there for the most part, though there'd be a minor hint to his newfound proclivity for honesty. Something along the lines of him giving an uncharacteristically honest answer to Owen as to who he's voting- Tyler, of course, since he was the one who ultimately threw the challenge for them... and also because Tyler still holds some resentment towards Noah for what happened in London, and Noah feels guilty about it every time he looks at the jock. Wait, why did he say that?

Sometime between this and the elimination scene, Noah wipes the truth-goop off of himself, but not before the effects have already started.

Tyler's voted out, yada yada yada.

The Jet:

Thus begins the start of "Picnic at Hanging Dork". Team CIRRRRH, consisting of just Alejandro, Duncan, Owen and Noah, are slumming it up in the Economy Cabin. Alejandro tries to rally his team by asking how to break apart Courtney and Heather's tentative co-operation. Owen suggests having Alejandro seduce Heather, since it worked for both Bridgette and Leshawna. Duncan makes his "Babe Olympics" comment. Noah pipes up that playing with someone's feelings is pretty scummy, even for someone competing for a million dollars.

Alejandro takes Noah's reluctance towards his methodology poorly; he hadn't spoken up before, when Alejandro had utilized the same strategy against other girls- and even Owen noticed that, so surely Noah did too- so why was he to outwardly against him using the same tricks? Duncan agrees, and offers ''his'' idea of having Alejandro flirt with Courtney to throw both her and Heather off their games (since Heather has an obvious crush on Alejandro), and things follow canon.

Then, the scene between Alejandro and Courtney happens. Noah scoffs at the display from the side lines, prompting Owen to ask him why he's so against Alejandro's plan.

"I mean, you never said anything before, when he flirted with Bridgette and Leshawna." Owen comments, light-hearted in nature but with an underlying questioning tone.

Noah's eyes flicker with a cobalt glow, easily mistaken for a trick of the light, and he speaks without even thinking.

"Yeah, because I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Bridgette was happenstance, and Leshawna's whole deal could've been a coincidence, or some massive misunderstanding. But this?" Noah extends an accusing hand out towards a smug looking Alejandro, then pans it over to a flattered Courtney, "He's outright toying with Courtney's feelings after she was cheated on in front of an international audience. It's scummy."

Owen nods in understanding, momentary contemplation evident in the pouted curve of his lips, and he chimes in.

"Does that mean you don't like Al?"

"I never said that."

"Well, how do you feel about him, then?"

Again, a flash of blue light against the hickory backdrop of Noah's eyes, and he responds thoughtlessly.

"I guess I have mixed feelings about him. On the one hand, he's slippery, like an eel dipped in grease, swimming in motor oil. He's like if you took all of the worst aspects of Heather, wrapped them up in a pretty package, and gave them social skills..." He holds his hands out before him in a scale-like manner, with the left tipped downwards and tie right raised by his chin. Then, the two hands swap positions.

"And on the other hand, he's brilliant. I've never met anyone as talented as Alejandro; he's smart, he's athletic, he's funny. It's almost unfair just how perfect everything about him is- even his face is perfect. It's ridiculous! Infuriating, even. It's so hard to dislike him, even when I know he's bad news, but that doesn't mean I trust him."

Owen stands slack jawed beside his best friend, both impressed and stunned at the raw honesty of Noah's tirade. Noah, now a little more aware of himself, realises that he's said more than he intended to- more than he thinks he's ever spoken in one go throughout the entirety of Total Drama. He's not usually one for speeches, after all, let alone honest ones.

He's always been the type to play his cards close to his chest, so why...?

"I, uh, didn't mean to go off like that."

And he also didn't mean to admit it, either. What was going on?

The look Owen gives him is, in a word, vivid. The blonde has a shit-eating grin stretching across his face, a sort of elated smugness practically glowing from his features.

"Sounds like someone has a cruuuush!~"

What? No? No! Not at all, where would Owen even get that idea?!

Noah splutters to correct Owen's assumption (to disastrous results, because he does sort-of has a crush on Alejandro, so the truth potion doesn't allow him to outright deny it), and in his preoccupied state he misses how a calculating pair of sage green eyes never seems to stray from him.

Alejandro has a lot to think about in regards to a certain cynic, it seems.

#I'd like to apologise for taking this idea and running with it.#Cutting myself off here before I breach 2k+ words or else I'll be here all day.#Sort of entered actual Writing Mode at the end there instead of Outline Mode but this idea is. So Full Of Potential I couldn't help myself.#But from here it'd basically be Alejandro using his newfound knowledge of Noah's crush on him to his advantage.#Whilst Noah's doing his best (and failing) to deny that he has any feelings for Alejandro.#Eventually leading to the two of them having a Bonding Moment where Alejandro gets Noah to divulge some personal information.#And in turn- or an effort to garner some trust (to be abused later)- Alejandro also lets himself be vulnerable towards Noah.#Something something Alejandro tries to use Noah as a pawn but ends up catching feelings of his own.#Then of course the potion wears off and Noah goes back to being just as prickly and standoffish as he was before.#A point of conflict maybe? Imagine bearing your soul out to someone only for them to close themself off to you not even days afterwards.#...Also imagine being practically forced to divulge information about yourself to someone you don't trust because of a truth potion.#Oh yeah. That's some good angst material right there.#Especially is you have Alejandro be- if not fully aware- than at least suspect that Noah's not being agreeable on his own terms.#Anon why have you given me The Thoughts?? I can't keep brainstorming AUs when I already have fics to work on!!#ophe's ranting in the tags again #total drama #td noah #td alejandro #team chris is really really really really hot #alenoah #-ish #silly ideas #other's ideas #long post #replies #kinda drafty in here (posts from the drafts)

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pearlescentpearl · 1 year

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Political Pawn AU

Hello! And welcome to my next bullet point fic; my take on a Fëanor lives plot! To no one’s surprise; Beleriand is on fire.

The Balrog that would have dealt Fëanáro a mortal blow instead takes an arrow to the eye, forcing a crack in the press of fire demons wide enough for Nelyafinwë to reach in and pull him out

Fëanáro is full of fire and wrath still, but his body shakes from pain and blood loss, vision swimming at the edges, hand cramped around his sword. It’s almost like coming out of a creative fugue; tired and hungry and disoriented, and he thinks, reflexively, ah, where’s a fortifying cup of spiced wine when you need it?

But there is only ash, and pain, and his faithful sons carrying him away from what he feels, from what he knows, would have been the death of him

His wounds are many but he will live; his will is too strong

Barely has he been tended to, and settled in his tent, when the message comes; that Morgoth has sent an emissary, claiming parley and teasing about surrendering the Silmarils

It sounds too good to be true, and so it must be a trap

Nonetheless, Nelyafinwë begs leave to go

“Of course, Morgoth is lying,” he says, eyes alight with his own inner flame. “But don’t you see? He will send more than he promises and so a credible force will be moving outside Angamando. Are we to let them roam free, unchallenged? I mean to crush them, and so convey our contempt at this thinly veiled trick!”

This is true enough enough that it persuades Fëanáro to let him go, despite faint misgivings

Later, of course, they learn they should not have. All who went with Nelyafinwë have been slain, the bodies desecrated and arranged in cruel parody. The only one missing from them is Nelyafinwë himself

Fëanáro truly thought he had known anger before, when his father was slain

It is nothing compared to knowing his son may yet live, but who knows in what condition?

Fëanáro has been up to the Gates of Angamando just that very day, and his memory is impeccable. There is no forcing those doors open with what siege supplies they’ve cobbled together so far

So far

Fëanáro will change that

The Mithrim Sindar are welcoming, numbers decimated as they are from Morgoth’s initial flood of his monstrous forces, and the mountains of Hísilómë are rich in metal ores

They can make something great here; it is only a matter of time

Time the Enemy seems keen not to grant them

it seems Fëanáro can dedicate his forces to building, or wiping out the enemy, not both at once. How aggravating

There seems to be a roaming raiding party just close enough to concern them every other day

Eventually, enough is enough; Fëanáro puts Kanafinwë and Turkafinwë in charge of a cavalry force with a significant number of the remaining horses, and commands them to keep Hísilómë clear as far as they can safely roam

They are not his most useful sons for building fortifications anyhow

Under Morifinwë’s baleful and exacting directions, the possible foundations for a great fortress are mapped out; it is misty, and often rainy inside the shelter of these mountains that trap cold and wet wind from the west and north, not especially favorable building conditions when their only source of illumination comes from starlight

How the Mithrim Sindar eke out an existence in such darkness is a wonder that merits studying

Fëanáro glares down at a map; there are few eastern entrances into Hísilómë, the main one is what the locals call Eithel Sirion, the headwaters of a river. If any eastern pass shall be the greatest concern it will be one with a water source

“Does any claim the great grassy plains that encircle Angamando outside the Wethrin?” He asks of Aewendir, the surviving Lord of the MIthrim Sindar

Not that they use the word ‘Lord’ exactly. Lathron, he is called, ‘listener, hearer,’ a pun on both his function; to hear his people out that he may resolve their troubles; and the fact visibility is often terrible by the lake on account of all the mists

“No,” Aewendir says dryly. “And don’t let anyone blow smoke up your ass otherwise. We’re the only folk crazy enough to live so close to the shadow of Angband, and reviled are we for it by the southern king and his court.” He spits on the ground. “And yet it is our word the southerners rely on for news of Angband’s movements when orcs are abroad.”

Fëanáro is growing very fond of Aewendir; he has a steady practicality about him that puts him in mind of Nerdanel, and a bitterly amused yet philosophical way of looking at the world that both intrigues and disconcerts

“We shall build at Eithel Sirion then.”

It’s yet more work to keep roving orc bands at bay, but the fortress must be built if Fëanáro is to have the facilities to devise siege weapons capable of cracking Angamando

The mountains are generous with stone, and the Land of Echoes with wood, but the constant attacks are tedious and slow things down

His Ñoldor are split three ways now; the wandering cavalry under Kanafinwë and Turkafinwë, the builders at Eithel Sirion under Morifinwë, and the rest on the western lake shore with Curufinwë, Telufinwë, and Pityafinwë directing necessary domestic efforts

It’s all a finely oiled machine just barely balanced on a knife’s edge, the slightest upset--!

Fëanáro goes over the numbers again and again, but there’s really no help for it. If only Nelyafinwë had not gone to--

But there is no help for it so they make do. They will get through this if Fëanáro has to will it into truth

One year slips by before he knows it, and a messenger from Angamando is on their doorstep once more

The fact it is a Maia is all that keeps Fëanáro from having it slain on the spot, but that is as far as he can deduce of its identity, its fána so twisted and befouled there’s no telling what it started as

It holds an iron chest in its hands

“One year has the rightful King of Arda held the Crown Prince an esteemed guest in his home,” the being rasps through torn lips and blackened teeth. “But all good guests must leave eventually to stay a good guest. His Majesty offers your son back to you, Finwion, if you but agree to forget your Oath, depart Beleriand, and never return to darken His Majesty’s doorstep. What shall it be, Ñoldorán; your son or your jewels?”

For a shameful moment, Fëanáro’s conviction wavers. Could it truly be that easy--?

But no

Morgoth’s last offer to surrender what he stole was a lie. It was a lie then, and it is a lie now

Fëanáro will not be fooled.

He will drive open the Gates of Angamando and rescue his son himself, and whatever miseries he has suffered will be inflicted on Morgoth fivefold! Tenfold!

“Úmaia you are, and Úvala I name your thrall-keeping master!” Fëanáro scoffs. “Slink back to your hole and tell him to stuff his false offers back behind his teeth where they belong!”

The being laughs, a horrible scraping croak that’s half a wheeze. “Very well, Finwion. A souvenir to tide you over then. A token of His Majesty’s consideration.”

The chest is tipped open and a wealth of loose red hair, vividly bright even in the light of the Fëanorian Lamps, spills out upon the ground like a bloodstain half tossed by the wind

It reeks of blood too

The breath catches in his throat. All that hair, Nelyafinwë’s pride and joy. It didn’t seem real to see it bereft of his son, to see it tossed carelessly on the ground where-- where anyone could trample it

He feels numb

The anger is too strong, there are too many directions he wants to shove it at once

Behind him, Telufinwë lets out a cry and looses an arrow into the Úmaia’s mangled torso

Fëanáro reorients. Draws his sword and shoves it through the being’s throat and cleaves its head clean off. There’s an eruption of fouled power upon its death, but it must be the weakest in Morgoth’s enthrallment for it barely rocks him on his heels

“Pay what it said no mind,” he tells his sons, the lot of them wet eyed and reaching for the hair on the ground. “The Enemy is a liar, dishonorable, and a cheat. Even if we agreed to the deal, Nelyo would only be returned to us dead. The only way to get him back is to wrest him from the pits ourselves!”

Their spirits firm. Good

#political pawn au #silmarillion #bulletpoint fic #feanor #maedhros #buckle up folks the byzantine politics are gonna be off the charts in this one #also have some fun mithrim sindar worldbuilding #they're nearly as neglected as the avari in terms of exploration

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