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blackopals-world · 9 months

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HEAR ME OUT Epel loveessss masc special forces yuu. Epel thinks he's so big and strong and cool. Yeah, sure, he can be a bit of a creep like Rook.... but he teaches Epel so many cool things! I have this one thought in my head where yuu takes epel out to the woods behind the campus for a few "hunting games" and even though he was really weirded out at first, epel has so much fun, especially since he got to be as rough and boyish and manly as he wanted to be without Vil around. When yuu returns epel to pomefiore, Vil is absolutely horrified at the state of them! They're so dirty, and they smell weird, and epel has a really creepy glint in his eye, and yuu's smile is so unsettling, and is that- is that blood????? Meanwhile, rook is laughing and throwing his arms over their shoulders, hustling both yuu and epel into the largest bathroom before roi du poison pops a vessel. Vil is going to give yuu and epel the scrub down of a lifetime in that tub, and seeing special forces yuu naked makes epel realise just how much growth he has to do before he can be a real man like yuu 😭😭

Apprentice

Masc Special Forces!Yuu and Epel

Sorry this post ended up being cut short due to network issues on my end.

Epel couldn't believe it when he first laid eyes on Yuu. He was built like a brick shithouse. Tall, strong, and most of all cool as hell. Smug but not like Leona who talks more then he acts. Hell, Yuu made him look like a kitten because he didn't what around to prove shit. People should prove themselves to Yuu, not the other way around.

Epel saw him again at the upper level of the gymnasium. The weight room doubled as the gymnastics room and Yuu probably used the equipment every day. Sure Vil and Rook worked out but Yuu's routine was intense.

Yuu was taking a break from the pull-up rack as he drank water and dried the sweat from his face with towel. Nevermind that he was covered in sweat, his muscles shining in the florescent lights. Yuu had chosen to not wear a shirt and only had his military pants and lace-up boots on.

"So cool!" Epel thought as he watched Yuu.

Yuu leaned back nonchalantly as he took something out of his bag. Then in a flash a knife embedded itself next to Epel's head.

Yuu laughed at the frozen underclassmen. He stood and hovered over Epel's hiding place.

"You got good reflexes, boy. If you tried to move you'd have ended up getting cut." Yuu smirked.

Epel scrambled to get up as he faced Yuu head-on.

"So tell me what's Vil's priceless little fluffy bunny doing here? If I remember you and your lot aren't even allowed near me. After all I'm too dangerous for his taste." Yuu said as if he heard a hilarious joke.

"I'm not a bunny!" Epel said indignantly. If he wanted Yuu to like him then he needed to prove he isn't like the rest of Pomefiore.

"Wow, the bunny was teeth." Yuu smirked. "Better watch out before Vil files them down. You might not want to be like the rest of the sycophants."

"Then teach me. I want to be like you!" Epel yelled.

Yuu doubled over in laughter as he sputtered. He had heard the best joke yet.

Epel turned red as Yuu slapped him on the shoulder as his laughter finally stopped.

"Oh boy, Rook was right about you bunny. You wanna be like me? That's not an easy thing to do. That's a lot of training and pain. You think a soft little bunbun like you can take it?" Yuu said.

"I'm not a bunny! And I'm not soft! I can take it!" Epel said fiercely.

Yuu slapped the boy on the back causing Epel's organs to rattle against his rib cage.

"That's the spirit bunny. And you're bunny as long as I say you are. Thems the rules in basic training." Yuu quipped "Now get changed unless you want to drop and give me 50 in your fancy uniform."

Yuu was merciless on Epel. He was kept on a rigorous daily exercise regiment and weapon training. If Yuu thought that Epel had adjusted for a minute he worked the boy harder.

Epel followed Yuu around like a duckling as he studied the senior's movements. He'd copy the wolfish lumbering gait he had, as he stalked through the halls. Yuu spelled danger and his glare was like daggers but he was so confident. Epel had a feeling that he was getting closer to being like that.

"Faster!" Yuu yelled as he watched Epel struggle to reassemble the rifle "Your mind must be sharp. Hone it like you have your body. At this rate we'll have to cancel you advanced training trip."

Epel's ear perked when he heard that. Advanced training. Yuu promised that if he got the basics finished within the month at when break started they'd go camping. Yuu was going to teach him all the cool tricks he did like: moving silently, jumping through trees, parkour, and taking down targets.

"Really?!" Epel was bursting with excitement before getting hit on the back of the head.

"Focus on your gun! And yes really. If you can finish in 20 seconds." Yuu smirked.

The trip wasn't what Epel expected. Sure they were going camping but Epel had expected it to be just him and Yuu. But it won't be because Rook didn't want to mind his own business.

The worst part is watching Rook flirt constantly with Yuu which is like watching a bull challenge a brick wall. Not happening!

Rook even took his place next to Yuu's sleeping bag which is the warmest place in the tent. Epel had to manipulate his way into getting Yuu to agree to force Rook into changing spots and Epel got to use Yuu as a pillow.

He discovered that Rook had a creepy look in his eye when he was jealous.

Between hiking, training, fishing, getting scooped up and thrown down a waterfall by Yuu, laying traps, being left behind overnight and forced to survive the forest alone until he found Yuu again after 2 days, the trip was amazing.

Yuu had one last test for Epel to test his manhood.

"Okay bunny all you need is to kill it." Yuu said pointing to the snare trap.

They had laid the traps a day before and a small rabbit had got caught by the foot. The beast has heaving from exhaustion as it watched him with beady red eyes.

"Come on bunny, you've seen me and Rook do stuff like this before. If you want me to stop calling you bunny then you need to take the knife and make it quick. Don't let it suffer." Yuu stood over Epel like a sentry luming over him.

Epel's heart raced as he hovered over it. He knew Rook was waiting too. Watching. Judging.

But he...he couldn't do it. It was just a poor rabbit.

Epel quickly cut the snare as he gently worked the rabbit's foot out of the knot. Then he looked at Yuu firmly.

"I won't kill it. It's just a rabbit. It never hurt anyone. I don't want to be the kind of man that kills for the sake of being called manly." Epel braced himself for a slap on the back of the head but it didn't happen.

Instead, a large hand ruffled his hair.

"You did good bunny. You passed." Yuu chuckled putting the knife back in its hilt before passing it on to Epel.

Epel clutched the dagger in his hands.

"Really?!" He could hardly believe it.

"Yeah, listen kid. I learned the hard way that theirs a difference between a good soldier and a good man. Me, I'm a soldier. I do what I'm told, follow orders, kill when told. I didn't get that choice, morals were luxuries I couldn't afford. But a man, a good one makes their own decisions. You gotta be a man. Not a monster like us. Trust me when I say you don't want to be like me. You gotta learn to be your own man." Yuu said putting a hand on Epel's shoulder. "That knife is proof of that. It's seen a lot of blood. You will too, soon enough. Hold it responsibly, it has two edges after all."

Epel felt a glow of pride. He did it! He proved himself. He was a man.

"I'm really a man now?" Epel asked

Yuu laughed good humoredly.

"No no no, you still have a lot to learn. Alot to do and experience. You've barely got the basics bunny. But you're getting there. Till then your just Bunny."

Yeah, Yuu's not that charitable. He's got to push Epel to his limits. Plus if Epe becomes a man like he wants then he's not going to try to manipulate his way into sleeping next to Yuu again by saying he gets too cold to sleep alone. Yuu doesn't want to lose that.

But he didn't know Yuu had planned for two lessons that day. Epel had learn when not to kill but he needed to learn when to kill.

Rook and Yuu had gotten permission to deal with a group of wild boars causing problems and it would be Epel's first taste of blood before Yuu considers dangerous targets.

You should have seen Vil's face when the group returned. Covered in dirt, sweat, and possibly (100%) blood.

Yuu hauled one of the giant boars they caught over his shoulder. It was going to make for good meat for barbecue tonight. Especially since Epel cut its throat himself. It's enough to make a man proud.

Unfortunately, Vil didn't want it in the dorm and certainly didn't want blood everywhere. Vil had the group hose off outside before they were even about to step foot of the grounds.

Rook tried his best to get Vil to calm down before taking them to be scrubbed down.

Epel swore he saw Vill and Yuu share a look before Yuu smirked as Vil glowered. Yuu was so cool, even Rook can't say anything to him.

Yep, definitely Epel was going to be just like his idol.

(Yuu throwing Epel over a waterfall)

(This is Yuu's form of gentle parenting. Gently throw them)

#special forces!yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #epel twisted wonderland #twst epel #epel felmier #rook hunt x reader #twisted wonderland rook #twst rook #rook hunt #twst vil #vil twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit

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littlemisslol-fic · 2 years

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The Silent Opera

Chapter Fifteen: Sonata Coda

Summary: In a world populated by Soulmates— people drawn together by wordless music connecting them to their destined other half— Varian is an anomaly. He is Songless, someone without a Soulmate of his own. He makes due with the cards dealt to him, used to being the castle oddity by now, but when an interesting blond takes up residence in the castle, he can’t help but be drawn to him.

Hugo, on the other hand, is horrified to find that not only is his Soulmate a palace brat, but that Varian doesn’t hear him back— meaning Hugo is trapped in a one-sided bond. When presented with a horrible choice between completing the theft Donella had sent him to do, or taking a frightening step into vulnerability, Hugo finds himself at an impasse he just might not be able to charm his way out of.

And then politics get involved.

Notes: There's always calm before a storm.

The Prancing Pony is easily the nicest bar Varian’s ever been in. Granted, the only other bar he’s been in is the Snuggly Duckling, so an upstanding bar by the bay like the Pony probably has an unfair advantage. As is, the Pony is clean, calm, and full of sailors who obviously were from the merchant ships that constantly ferried in and out of the harbor. It’s a bit like walking into a business lounge honestly. People barely look up when he slips inside, even with the little bell that rings when he opens the door.

Varian pulls at his coat a bit. Even in the summer, it’s cold this late at night. Suddenly he feels foolish having the hood up, so he flips it down—the second he does, the bartender waves to him.

“I don’t serve underage,” he says, not unkindly. Varian just shakes his head, walking into the pub. His boots click against the well-loved floors. The satchel at his side swings with each step. He tries to appear less out of place than he feels—Hugo’s depending on him, after all.

“Just here to meet someone,” he assures. “And I’m of age, just barely.”

The man nods before going back to wiping the counter top. Varian moves further into the main room; he scans the space with a keen eye—there’s maybe a couple dozen patrons scattered about. All of them are too lost in their drink to notice the new arrival.

Save for one.

There’s a large man at one of the back tables, one with dark hair and a darker glower. Varian clenches his hand around the strap of his bag—for Hugo, for Hugo, he’s going to get fucking stabbed for Hugo—and instead walks closer to the terrifying man. When he stops in front of the table (comically small, compared to the massive man behind it) there’s an awkward silence. For a second, Varian hears Hugo’s Song curiously poking at him. He offers his own comfort, before focusing back on the huge person in front of him. The man only glares into his pint, ignoring Varian. The alchemist sighs before he clears his throat.

“Cyrus?” he asks, praying he’s got the right man. He’d only heard descriptions, after all.

(“Yeah, Donnie’s left-hand man. Built like a brick-shithouse, ‘bout the same size as Fred but about four times as mean.”

“Left hand?” Varian asks.

Hugo shorts, elbowing him. “Well, I’m her right hand since I’m smarter. And cuter. So he gets the shit jobs. He looks like a mean son-of-a-bitch but he’s generally alright. People get spooked by the scar.”

Varian shoots him a look. Hugo laughs, pointing to his face. “His eye. S’got a big scar down it. He always says he got it in a fight, but I know the real story. Donnie told me he tripped and fell face-first into a fence during a recon job.”

The alchemist loses track of the words for a minute after that. Hugo’s laughter is just a bit too hypnotic—it’s the only thing he can focus on.)

The man looks up with a scowl. “Who’s asking?”

Fuck, right. Focus. “My name’s not important,” Varian says, trying not to show how nervous he is. “But we share a mutual friend.”

“A mutual—do you mean our good buddy Hugo?” Varian’s face must answer for him, as Cyrus fixes him with an amused look. “I’ll guess that you’re Varian, then.”

“W—how did you—Sun be damned, I’m going to kill that shithead!”

Cyrus only chuckles. He leans back and gestures to the empty chair across from him. Varian sighs and sits, letting himself flop into the chair with a huff. “Yeah, alright,” he admits, “my name’s Varian.”

“Mh-hm. And is there a reason you’re here, Varian?”

The alchemist swallows thickly. “It’s not good. Hugo, he—he got caught. Earlier today.”

If Cyrus is concerned he doesn’t show it. The man’s got a poker face to rival Quirin’s. “Really now?”

Varian nods. “Someone, one of the visiting lords,found correspondence between Hugo and D—”

“Don’t say her name.” Cyrus cuts him off. Varian’s mouth clicks shut. The man hadn’t been aggressive but when your voice is that deep, it’s hard for Varian to not be intimidated. “Sorry, kid. Her name carries a lot of weight around, best not to draw attention with it.”

Oh sweet Sun, Varian’s going to get fucking murdered at this rate. “Okay. Well, they found a letter from her. In Hugo’s room. He was arrested.”

“Hm. So the job’s off. Don’t they give people the death penalty for trying to rob the castle?” Cyrus scratches at his chin. “Oh well, he had a good run.”

Varian splutters. “No, no! That’s not why I’m here! I bargained for them to put Hugo in a cell instead, but he… he’s mostly in trouble because of me.” He coughs. “Or at least he was found out because of me.”

“Did you nark?” Cyrus’s face is dark. Varian’s soul leaves his body.

“I wouldn’t! No, he and I were. Uh. Friends—”

“Hugo already wrote his mum. She knows, and therefore so do I.”

The alchemist’s lungs contract in a hitch of shock, causing him to cough roughly. “Oh,” he squeaks. “Oh, I see.” He clears his throat again. “Then you know about my whole… deal. Uh, in that case, the man who went through Hugo’s stuff was only doing so because he was upset we were around each other a lot. So… it’s my fault. That he’s down there.”

Cyrus takes a swig of ale. “And what?” he asks, “I’m not sticking my neck out if that’s what you’re asking. The little fuck’s left me behind enough times. Karma’s a bitch.”

Suddenly Varian’s understanding why Hugo is… Like That.

“Don’t you think your boss will be upset if her kid doesn’t come back?”

Cyrus shrugs. “He’s a big boy. Couple months in the clink might make him less of a bitch to work with.”

Varian sighs. Time to pull out the big guns. The satchel, despite weighing basically nothing, makes a satisfying thump when he sets it on the table. Cyrus’s eyes shoot down to it before snapping back up to meet Varian’s flat expression.

“I can change your mind,” the alchemist says, “and then we both get what we want.”

The man laughs gruffly. “Kid, there’s nothing in there that can possibly make breaking into the castle worth it. Especially not to grab that little fucker. You’re on your own.”

Varian doesn’t bother to reply. Instead he flips open the satchel and lets the glint of silver and sapphire speak for him. Cyrus chokes on his own spit—the man only just recovers enough to hastily flip the bag closed again. The glittering thing inside makes a small clink when it moves.

“Is that—”

“I’ve already got exactly what you want.” Varian’s voice is nearly monotone. “But if you want it, you’re going to help me tomorrow. Does that sound like a deal, or should I wander over to some of my old prison friends and see if any of them want to help me?” Atilla would definitely help him—most of the Snuggly Duckling crew would—and Lance would probably love another chance at redeeming himself against Corona’s prisons. Not that Varian would ask. He couldn’t risk their reputations as well.

Cyrus pauses. Tilts his head like he’s suddenly seeing Varian in a new light. And then, he laughs. “You know what,” he chuckles, “I’m seeing why you and Hugo like each other. The dreaded alchemist, right in front of me. I’m a little starstruck.”

He goes to take the satchel. Varian sets a warning hand on it. “Do we have a deal?”

The man in front of him meets his steely glare head on. “We do indeed,” he finally agrees. Varian lets his face split into a grin. Cyrus rolls his eyes. “You’re right, though. The boss would kill me if I showed up without the kid.”

Varian tries not to let his relief show. “Wonderful. There are a few other documents in there—guard patrol schedules, stuff like that—if you go in during the Day of Hearts Ceremony it’ll be easy.”

“Says the kid who couldn’t do it himself.”

“Says the kid who’s broken out before.”

That makes Cyrus stop short. “Fair enough,” he finally says. “I’ll get our mutual friend, but then what?”

Varian sighs. He stands and fixes Cyrus with a look. “Then you both get the hell out of Corona as fast as you can,” he says. “Hugo might fight you on it, but you take him home. No matter how much he tries to argue.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Varian says, trying to sound like he means it. “Just get Hugo somewhere safe and the bag’s yours.”

Cyrus leans back in his chair. He swirls his ale around, contemplating.

“Alright,” he says gruffly. “We have a deal, alchemist.”

There’s nothing else to really say. Varian offers him a flat smile before he turns and leaves the bar. The little bell chimes. The evening sky is clouded over, dull, and navy blue. It might rain tomorrow. How fitting. Varian swallows past the lump in his throat and goes back to the castle.

If all works out, then the only person taking the fall will be him. Just as planned. He should be happy; he’s getting what he wants. His family will be safe. Hugo will be safe. In theory it’s everything he dared to ask for. Varian bites at his lip, blinking quickly.

The streets are abandoned, not a soul around in the coming dark of night. The inky swells of night creep in; everyone in Corona has started to turn in for the night, preparing for the Day of Hearts tomorrow. For the ceremony happening in the afternoon. Varian’s alone, left to himself. Just as well.

It means there’s no one around to see him cry.

—————♪—————

Hugo’s honestly spent nights in worse cells. Better ones, too. Corona’s accommodation hits soundly in the middle, though the worst part of all is constantly having to hear how Varian’s anxiety gets worse and worse as the hours tick by. He’d barely been thrown in here when there was a sharp spike of terror in the Song that had Hugo borderline gnawing at the bars in an attempt to break free. And then, when the fear had abated it had turned so sad, the same kind of sadness Varian had the day Hugo had convinced him they weren’t friends anymore.

It’s going to drive him fucking batty.

He paces like a wild animal, constantly watching the door like he can melt the lock through the power of his stare. It’s dreadfully boring, but the tension is the worst of it. The constant reminder that Varian is up there right now, fighting for his fucking life against a prick of a fiancé and a nobility that wants to sell him off for the good of the country or whatever. Everything in Hugo itches with the urge to find his Soulmate, to grab Varian and get fucking gone, just like they’d planned.

It’s infuriating.

But he spends the whole day listening to the dips and swells of the Song—at one point it even rings in pain, like Varian’s somehow managed to choke himself—and stewing in his own torrent of emotions. It’s just a maker-damned mess. But eventually the Sun goes down, and the general fucked up emotions go with it. Varian’s Song rings with determination and something stony cold; it makes Hugo anxious. He’s already been in here longer than he thought. If things were going to work out, if Varian had managed to convince the princess, Hugo would be out of here by now. But he’s not, therefore Varian’s surely concocting some crackpot scheme that’s going to blow up in their faces. You know, like he always does.

So Hugo paces. Waits. Listens to the drip, drip of water coming in through the stone. The question burns in him, deep in the chest. Where is Varian?

And, eventually, he gets his answer.

The door to the cell-block creaks open, long and drawn out. A pessimistic part of Hugo assumes it’s Landis, come to gloat in the midnight hour when no one will catch him. The grand duke certainly seemed pleased with himself, tearing everything Hugo had away from him, and Hugo wouldn’t put it past him to be the type to gloat.

The footsteps that echo through the empty cell block are too light. Rapunzel, then? Maybe come to rattle his stupid fucking head against the bars. He’d probably deserve it.

The Song’s getting louder… oh. Hugo lets himself have a fleeting hope that it’s not his Soulmate, that Varian won’t see him like this, locked up like a feral animal in a zoo—it’s not exactly a great look, especially after nearly a full day stuck in the damp and the dark.

But then Varian slips around the corner, and Hugo’s heart basically stops. His Soulmate looks like shit, honestly; his eyes are bruised and sunken in, hair’s a mess, and he’s pale. Before he can stop himself, Hugo presses himself against the bars and lets out a small huff of breath.

“Sweetcheeks?” he asks. “What are you doing here?”

Varian’s eyes go wide when he hears Hugo’s voice. The alchemist scuttles over to Hugo’s cell and grabs at his hands—after a day in the cold his skin feels so warm against Hugo’s own. The blond clutches his Soulmate’s hands close before he can think better of it. The Song rings with relief, with joy, with a million happy moments that tinkle like glass. Varian’s face is split in a wide smile that only grows when Hugo brings their joined hands to his lip to press a kiss to Varian’s knuckles.

“Are you okay?” Varian asks. He’s avoiding the question. But fuck it, Hugo will let him ignore it—because Varian’s here, he’s here, and Hugo can finally breathe easy for the first time today.

“I’m fine,” Hugo soothes, “they barely even punched me.”

“They punched you?!”

“Barely! Barely, sweetheart.” He offers his most roguish grin. “I’m fine, no worries at all.”

Varian looks somewhere between crying and punching a wall. It’s not his best look, but it’s one that’s familiar at least. Hugo sighs and presses another kiss to Varian’s knuckles. “How’d it go upstairs?” he asks. The Song dips into a groan, which makes him laugh. “That well, huh?”

The hand in Hugo’s grips tightly. “Landis is still pushing for a wedding,” Varian murmurs. Hugo blinks—that’s not what he was expecting at all. There’s no fucking way that’s allowed. Not if they’ve Resonated… right?

“Surely there’s laws? In Koto you can’t get between Soulmates; it’s illegal.”

“Corona… I’m not sure, actually. But it’s too late to go looking for a loophole like that. Hugo, Landis’s guards, they haven’t done anything to you, right?”

“Save for shoving me in here?” Varian doesn’t even laugh at the joke. Yikes. “No, they haven’t. Just pushed me in and left me alone. One of your guys was down here a couple times for food, but other than that I’ve been left to my own devices.”

Varian goes even paler at the mention of food. “Don’t eat anything unless it comes from a Coronian guard, okay?”

“What—”

“Promise me.”

Varian’s almost manic—what the fuck has been going on upstairs?—and the Song pulses in fear. Hugo reels at the feeling, swallowing thickly. “Varian I—okay. I’ll promise if you tell me why.”

The alchemist’s mouth opens and closes for a moment. He looks like a gaping fish, but Hugo won’t comment until Varian finds the words. “Digitalis,” he finally manages to spit out. “Landis—he, fuck.”

“The heart medication?”

Varian shakes his head. “He used it to poison someone—his Soulmate. Hugo, he’s Songless because he killed her, and… shit, I don’t know if he’d try the same thing on you. Please, don’t eat anything that hasn’t come from Corona’s guards. I know it’s stupid but—”

Hugo gently shushes him. “If it makes you feel better, I’d go on a hunger strike.” Varian only laughs wetly and rubs at his eyes. The blond sucks in another breath as the Song sinks lower into desperation. He’d assumed the worst of Landis and his fucking plant—he’d known that murder was most definitely on the table here—but to hear the prick had killed his own Soulmate… in all his years of travel, Hugo’s never heard of something so fucking heinous. Varian looks just as fucked up by it as Hugo feels; probably worse, all things considered. He sighs and does his best to set Varian at ease.

“Okay, okay. I promise. But we’re breaking out, right? That’s why you’re here?”

The Song stutters. Varian bites at his lip and draws his hands out of Hugo’s grip. The childish part of Hugo wants to drag them back, to hold them tighter, but as his Soulmate shakes his head, Hugo can’t help but start to shiver

“Varian? We’re breaking out and running tonight, right?”

Silence rings through the prison block. “Varian?” Hugo presses. The alchemist finally sucks in a thick breath through his nose and stutters to life.

“I have a plan.” He says, and oh gods be damned.

“What kind of plan?”

“A plan! A very good one, thank you—”

Hugo feels his expression go flat. “You’re winging it, aren’t you?”

“Maybe, yeah.”

He shakes his head so hard it nearly sends his glasses flying. He’s fucking insane if he thinks Hugo’s going to leave him behind. “Listen, I know you want everything to work out, but is this really the time to be playing games? What if you get hurt?”

Varian sighs. It’s rough, like the air’s being torn from him. “I’ll be fine. I just need to make sure that you’re okay first, then everything else can be dealt with after that.”

“Everything else?”

“I… Landis wants to uh. Make you disappear.“

Ah. Right. Should have seen that coming. “Yeah, I guess I know what angle he’s aiming for. But you can’t just throw yourself under the cart because you want to.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then because you think you have to! Fuck Varian, didn’t we have a talk about taking care of yourself, too?”

Varian flushes and looks away. Hugo lets out a loud sigh and rubs at his face. This is fucking ridiculous. “I’m not leaving without you,” he says it reverently, like a pastor would a sermon. Varian looks ready to argue, so Hugo presses. “No, I’m not fucking leaving without you. I don’t know what kind of crazy shit you’ve got planned, but I you’ll have to drag me outta here without you. Clear?”

His Soulmate sniffles. The Song beats a slow, agonizing rhythm. “I don’t know what else to do.” Varian’s voice cracks. “I just—I want everything to stop so I can just… enjoy you, you know? We finally found each other, but everything’s so fucked.”

“We’ll un-fuck it.” Hugo reaches back through the bar and grabs Varian’s hand. “But we need to work together, and you need to get it through that thick skull of yours that you’re not on your own here, okay?”

“No, no, I can handle it!”

“You’re not handling shit!” Hugo finally snaps. It’s not aggressive, but more exasperated. Varian’s going to kill himself trying to fix everyone else’s mess, and Hugo refuses to watch anymore. “Just let me out and we can make a break for it.”

“I’m trying! Do you really think we’d get more than thirty paces out the front door before getting caught? We have to be smart.”

“And by smart you mean giving up?”

“I—”

Ah. Got him. “Varian…”

The alchemist looks away with a huff. “I just… you deserve more than a life on the run. They’d never stop chasing us, you know that right?”

““And you deserve more than a thief,” Hugo says, “so I guess we’re both stooping below our standards. Besides, you know as well as I do that I’d never settle down. I’m too adventurous for that.”

Varian’s eyebrows scrunch together before going lax in a troubled expression. “No, no, I don’t mean it like that. I’m just…”

“Just?”

“Just scared.” Varian shakes his head. He blinks quickly, eyes bright. “I—Hugo, I’m so used to being just me, you know? I spent my whole life thinking that I’ll be on my own and I… I came to terms with that. I wasn’t happy about it but I understood what it meant, and I got used to just being by myself.” He wipes at his nose, trying to be subtle. The Song rings with something mournful. The hand in his tightens its grip. Hugo’s heart cracks that little bit more. Varian sniffles again, ugly and wet.

“And I don’t know what to do now! I know I want us to be together, and I know that I… I like you.” Varian’s face flushes. “But I don’t know what to do with that. So please just let me make sure you’re okay, no matter what. I need that from you. I’m so sorry that it’s… it’s so messy.”

And Hugo gets it. He really does. It hurts that he does, that he has memories of needing someone and not finding them. Of feeling othered, left on the wayside and expected to just deal with that. He’d spent so long wrapped up in Donella’s crew, fighting tooth and claw for every scrap he could get a hold of, taking everything he could and giving nothing back.

He’s used to the concept of one. Of looking out for his own back. Of that crushing, infestation of loneliness that he convinced was all he needed for company. Of hearing the Song and telling it to shove off. Varian, he knows, is the same. Rejecting something he knew deep down he wanted more than anything with such force that eventually he convinced himself that rejection was true.

And it hurt. It did. The concept of one was achingly sad to him. But now… now he can see two. And he doesn’t want to let it go. Can’t. Won’t.

Hugo offers a lopsided smile and presses his head against the bars. Varian does the same; their foreheads barely touch through the metal, but the feeling of skin is electric. Hugo sighs and wishes he could hold Varian, could comfort him properly, but all he has is words. They’ll have to do.

“It is messy,” he admits. “But I’m used to messy. And you don’t have to restructure everything now that we’re… we’re here. I don’t want you to change your life around, I just want to be a part of it if you’ll have me.”

Varian tilts his head into Hugo’s palm. “I’d like that,” he says, “but I can’t ask you to take that risk.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. And I will.” Varian’s voice goes steely. “I’ve made arrangements with your contact; tomorrow, during the distraction of the Day of Hearts, he’s coming to get you out. You can be to the border before they even realize you’re gone.”

Hugo’s taken aback. For a second all he can think about is how Varian, of all people, managed to intimidate Cyrus into cooperating, but the thought is quickly taken over by a dawning horror.

“The distraction? What’s the distraction?” He tries to meet Varian’s eye. “Varian, what’s the distraction?”

“It should be about three hours from when you break out until you get out of the country.” Varian shifts his weight, curling into himself. “Cyrus knows what to do.”

“Varian.”

“During the ceremony all of the Socrians will be in the main gala chamber.” Varian just plows ahead. “And the Coronian guard will be stretched thin between the wedding and the festival outside. You’ll have a good half hour to get out before they even notice you’ve escaped.”

“I’m not going without you.”

“Yes, you are. I need you out of jail before we can do anything. If Landis tried anything to hurt you, I… I’d never forgive myself.” He looks at Hugo then. The Song shrieks in heartbreak. “I need you safe.”

“Fuck safe,” Hugo snarls. “Are you kidding me? If you think I’m just sitting back and letting this happen you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Hugo please—”

“Don’t please me, I’m not letting you throw yourself to the wolves.” They’re talking in circles. “I won’t do it.”

“You don’t get a choice!” Varian’s voice is snappish. “Hugo, focus on the big picture. He’s going to kill you.”

“And I’d rather be fucking dead than watch you do this!”

He really would. The idea of Varian going forward with the marriage—to Landis, to a fucking confirmed murderer who’d only use Varian’s talents for power and prestige—makes Hugo want to fucking die. It makes him want to curl up in the dirt and bury himself without a fight. Even worse is the guilt, the fucking teeth of it that bury into his heart at the idea of Varian doing it to protect Hugo. Of Hugo being a fucking liability.

He’d been too stupid to keep himself from getting caught, but the fact that it’s Varian getting ready to take the fall makes Hugo want to rip his skin off. The Song must show how Hugo’s feeling—Varian winces at the sound—but Hugo can’t help it.

It grates. It grates.

But then Varian puts a hand through the bars and winds it around the back of his neck. Hugo lets himself be drawn forward so that their foreheads rest against each other’s. The feeling of skin on his is a chill balm on the fiery guilt—something that he can focus on. Their breaths mingle, and for a second Hugo can let himself imagine they’re back in bed together, just enjoying each other’s calming presence. The Song drifts between them, a gentle thing.

“We’ll figure it out.” Varian says softly. “We will. If I can get you out, we can deal with the rest later. Worst case is it happens. And we have to find a new plan when the dust settles. I… Hugo…. I haven’t been a very good Soulmate.”

“You’ve been more than enough—”

“But I haven’t been good to you. Let me deal with this. Be selfish.”

Gods be damned. Varian’s Song hasn’t shown a bit of wavering. His mind isn’t going to be changed, not by Hugo. The thought makes him want to grab the alchemist by the shoulders and shake him—but playing along will get him to a better position. A place Hugo can react properly.

“I’ll find you,” he whispers into their shared breaths. “I’ll chase you to the ends of the earth. Corona, Socria, I don’t care. Wherever he tries to hide you, I’ll find it.”

Varian’s face drifts into a small smile. “I know you will.” And he sounds so certain. Like Varian doesn’t have a single doubt that Hugo would find him someday, would keep fighting for it. A sea of freckles parts for his grin to grow wider. “Do you know why?”

Hugo shakes his head.

“Because my Soulmate is one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met,” Varian says. Hugo’s breath hitches. “He’s clever, and so, so creative. He can pick locks and is light on his feet. And my favorite part?”

Hugo leans closer. He can’t help it. The way Varian’s looking at him is hypnotic. And he keeps fucking talking, just slipping further under the spell.

“My favorite part,” Varian says, “is that he makes me laugh. Even when my day’s been terrible, he makes it better. No one else can do that. He’s the funniest person I’ve ever known.”

Hugo’s face feels hot. His eyes burn hotter. He can’t look away and all he can see is Varian, Varian looking at him, seeing him, with nothing but love in his eyes. It makes him feel warm inside, like sitting near a fire. Varian doesn’t even seem to register what he’s doing to Hugo, that he’s taking Hugo’s fucked up little Soul and twisting it until it looks less broken, less ugly. Like he’s not rending Hugo’s entire world to ash right in front of him.

“My Soulmate,” Varian says, “is strong, and resilient. And I know he’ll come find me, because I think he loves me just as much as I love him.”

And Hugo’s world just shatters apart.

He gasps wetly. His hands grip Varian’s shirt tighter, wrapping thickly into the fabric like he can ground himself through sheer will and strength. Varian doesn’t even flinch. Instead he clings just as tight to Hugo and laughs in a broken, jagged kind of way.

“That’s what makes it not fair.” Varian’s still murmuring quietly. His words nearly get lost in the cold and the damp air of the cell block. Hugo can’t even get a word out through the lump of emotion in his throat. Varian fills the silence.

“It’s not fair,” he continues. “Because… I feel it. We should be together. I want to. I wanted to before I even—before I even knew.” He reaches out and wipes a tear from Hugo’s face. “I would have picked you either way.”

Hugo finally manages to clear his throat enough to speak. “I did,” he whispers, “I picked you. Even without the Song, it was always you.”

Varian’s Song rings with resignation. He looks like he wants to speak again, to keep tearing into the very depths of Hugo’s Soul like it’s nothing, but a noise from the other side of the long hall startles them both. Footsteps echoing in the deep.

“Fuck,” Varian hisses, “fuck, they weren’t supposed to be back yet.” His voice cracks at the same time the Song skips a beat. Varian turns back to Hugo, cupping his face.

“Hugo, I love you.”

“I—”

“Will not be finishing that, thank you.”

Varian’s expression crumbles as a large figure steps around the corner. Landis swings the cell block keys on a lazy finger.

“Sorry,” he says, “I know I’m probably interrupting, but Varian’s got places to be tomorrow. You understand.”

Varian twists to look at his fiancé, scowling. “What, can’t even give me this?” he snaps. “It’s late, what are you even doing awake?”

Landis frowns and waltzes toward them. His boots echo against the damp stone. “I was making sure you weren’t going to disappear,” he says. “And it looks like I wasn’t far off.”

Varian’s hands go white on the bars of Hugo’s cell. “I wasn’t doing anything.” His voice is steely, more than Hugo’s ever heard him. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him, not that I could never talk to him again.”

Landis finally reaches Varian. It’s almost comical to see the height difference between them. Varian puffs up as much as he can to make up the difference—but then Landis slings an arm around his shoulders and grips tight. The Song shudders with tension. Varian shoves at Landis’s side to no avail.

Hugo’s throat burns with bile at the sight of the grand duke’s hands on his Soulmate. After what Landis had done to Varian the night before, what he’d tried to do, the idea of the two of them anywhere near each other makes him sick.

It must show on his face. Landis sneers down at him.

“I thought we had a deal.” His voice is flat. “But I guess not. Should have expected street trash like you to be too stupid to keep his end of the bargain.”

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Varian snaps. He shoves at Landis. The man releases him from the arm around his shoulder but when Varian gets too far he’s snagged by the wrist and dragged back.

Landis’s attention snaps back to Hugo. The blond meets his glare dead on. He won’t back down, not again. Not when Varian’s between them.

“I guess I just thought it was kind of bullshit.” Hugo finally says. “That you thought you could waltz in and take whatever you want. So I thought, fuck it, why not make his life a little harder?”

“Landis, can’t you just please try and see reason?” Varian tries to appeal. In a perfect world that would work, but Hugo can see the determination in that man’s eyes. There’s nothing that’s breaking the grand duke’s resolve.

“I see reason.” Landis says. “I do. It’s you who doesn’t.” His grip on Varian’s wrist goes tight. “Varian, listen. You’ve put too much stock into magic and destiny. Didn’t you agree with me that Soulmates aren’t everything? I thought you were smarter than that. We could have such a bright future together, and you want to throw it away… for him?”

Varian looks so dejected. “No,” he says, “but Landis, I don’t love you. I fell in love with Hugo organically. I didn’t even know until yesterday, and he didn’t try to push. Please, can’t you see that?”

Landis’s face does something strange then. If Hugo didn’t know better he’d say the man had eaten something sour. It takes longer than he’d admit to realize that Landis looks disappointed, even sad.

“We could have been great,” is all he says. The leather of his gloves creak around Varian’s wrist. For a second there’s not a word that slips out between the three of them, silence mixing with the frantic swell of the Song in Hugo’s ear. Varian’s focused on the grand duke, silently begging.

But it seems the man will not be swayed.

“I think it’s time for you to come back upstairs.” Landis says with only a pinch of force. It’s a judge’s gavel slamming down. Hugo spits a curse when the grand duke uses his grip to start pulling Varian back—away from Hugo. It sends a pulse of dread skittering up Hugo’s spine, the sight of Varian being pulled away from him again and again and again, just like the universe always has since they found each other.

“No,” Varian pushes roughly at Landis. It’s unsurprisingly ineffective; Varian might as well have been shoving at a brick wall. “No, no, no, I played your stupid game but you never said I couldn’t talk to him.”

But Landis keeps yanking Varian away. The alchemist’s legs lock up and dig his heels in—he turns to look Hugo dead in the eye and the desperation is clear on his face. Hugo instinctively reaches for him through the bars, he can’t lose Varian, not now, not like this. Varian’s Song shrieks with desperation, sharp strings and heavy drums bleeding through Hugo’s consciousness without even a space for thought; but still he reaches, pressed up against the metal like a fool.

Something defiant snaps in the Song. Varian reaches back and digs his nails into the exposed skin at Landis’s wrist. The man hisses, instinctively letting go, and Varian takes the chance to worm his wrist free.

For a breathtaking, horrible second Hugo thinks Varian’s going to run. Going to sprint for the door and leave them both behind. He hopes Varian will. He dreads the second Varian would.

But instead, amazingly, Varian turns and staggers for Hugo’s cell. He nearly slams against the bars—it sends a rattling noise cutting through the dreary silence. Before Hugo can even comprehend what’s happening Varian is grabbing his face and staring deep into his eyes.

“I love you,” Varian says quickly—heartbreakingly quickly, knowing that Landis is already only feet away. Hugo gasps as Varian brings their lips together for a searing kiss. The Song swells, bright and perfect and everything Hugo’s ever wanted. His eyes slip shut and the world narrows down to the point where they’re connected. If Hugo could freeze time, this would be a good moment to live forever.

Varian’s grip gets tight on Hugo’s face when hands start to pull him back. They cling to each other tightly, like nothing could pull them apart save for the Maker themself, but eventually even they can’t hold on.

Hugo gasps when Varian’s touch leaves him. The chill of the cell block air hits hard after the warmth of Varian’s hands—but the sight of Landis yanking the alchemist back roughly sends another type of cold through Hugo’s blood.

Varian’s hands are still stretched out like he can pull Hugo back to him through will alone. Their eyes meet; if there’s ever a colour Hugo would love, it’s that baby blue. The Song wails in denial, pulling them back to each other through sound alone. Varian struggles against his fiancé’s hold the whole time, even when he’s manhandled into standing.

Hugo grabs at the bars and pushes. It’s silly, but he can’t not do anything. All the while Varian’s voice swirls in his head: I love you, I love you, I love you—

“I love you on purpose!” Hugo finally hollers. His voice booms against the stone walls like a roaring wave. Varian’s eyes go wide at the admission and fix on Hugo with an expression he’s never worn before. For a second Hugo’s heart falls, but then Varian’s face splits into the biggest grin, one that’s easily the brightest thing in the room.

The Song swells with love, with soft sensations and fluttering feelings, with everything Hugo had thought he’d never get to experience. It’s amazing.

Landis yanks Varian’s arms back toward the door. It’s rough, too fucking rough, but Varian doesn’t even seem to register it. Instead he only has eyes for Hugo, brimming with tears—of Joy? Of sorrow? Even Hugo can’t tell with the torrent of emotion Varian’s projecting—that threaten to fall at any second.

The grand duke only scoffs, loud and angry, before slamming the door to the cell block wide open. Light spills in, sickly and pale yellow from the torches outside. Hugo gets one last beautiful look at Varian before he’s being shoved out the door and into the hallway beyond. Landis takes one last look at Hugo, his face stormy and so angry, before he also leaves in a swirl of cape and thick, stomping footsteps.

The silence in the cell block is loud. Hugo can’t even focus on it, instead staring to the door. Quietly hoping that Varian will come back, even if he knows it won’t happen; the Song grows quieter with every second meaning that Varian’s surely getting corralled away from the dungeon.

He thinks back to what Varian had said, all of it. Cyrus will come tomorrow, during the day of hearts. It’ll be extremely tight if Hugo wants to stop the wedding—if he can at all. Varian had said there was no way out. Hugo knows there has to be.

(Donella had always had confidence in his wit. Hugo knows he’s smart enough to be worth her time: an achievement within itself. Varian’s been doing most of the heavy lifting while Hugo figures his shit out. It’s Hugo’s turn to shoulder the weight, to finally follow his heart over his fear.

“I’ve seen what you can make with garbage. Adapt.”)

And adapt he shall.

#varigo #varian #vat7k #fic #silent opera

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davids-cartoon-corkboard · 2 years

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The idea that Draxum designed mutagen to increase subject aggression is making me reevaluate how I think about the newer mutants. To what extent are they responsible for their own actions? If some creep jumps out of the bushes and jams a needle full of PCP into your arm, it’s not your fault if you flip out and start chucking rocks at people because your brain’s gone sideways.

PCP wears off eventually, though. Mutagen does not. The way some mutants act makes a lot more sense in that context. Like, I seriously doubt all six of these regular-ass human guys were okay with murdering children.

But after the mutagen worked its way into them? Draxum sang a song about why they should help him murder a bunch of annoying thirteen-year-olds and they were all like “hell yeah dude we'll absolutely help you murder a bunch of annoying thirteen-year-olds!”

The turtles are mostly doing okay because they’ve been mutated for 13+ years, nearly their entire lives. But they’re still noticeably Unhinged™ in a way that can't just be handwaved by them being chaotic Gen Z teenagers.

Splinter’s childhood in the Hamato Clan and adulthood in the Battle Nexus meant he was sick and fucking tired of fighting by the time he got mutated, so that helped counteract the mutagen’s effects. That he specifically vowed to care for the turtles and prevent them from turning into “violent monsters” also helped, though he’s still not immune to being Unhinged™ himself.

Teach your sons a lesson by making them fear for their lives! And let your newly-sapient daughter help! What a good example to set for her! Did you drop this, King? 👑

As time goes on, the new mutants will adjust to their new bodies and minds and chill out a bit. We already see moments of unexpected compassion from them in later episodes.

Repo called the “senseless carnage” of the drone fights a “shame” instead of just being happy he got new scrap. (Breaking Purple)

Hypno entertained Leo with a magic trick instead of attacking him with it. (The Clothes Don’t Make The Turtle)

And Rupert spoke reassuringly to Mikey as he helped him finish the cooking challenge. He didn’t even insult or threaten Mikey once, even though they were in a very stressful situation and that was practically his job on Kondescending Kitchen! (Battle Nexus: New York)

IDK if the turtles will ever be able to consider these guys allies outside of an emergency, but as time goes on they’ll gradually transition from being Genuine Threats to Team Rocket-esque “threats”.

TL;DR none of the new mutant antagonists are actually evil, they’re just fucked up because Draxum injected Magic Science Murder Juice into them without their knowledge or consent. Once the passage of time or retromutagen lets them regain enough of their moral code they’re probably going to be horrified with themselves.

Seriously, Rupert is 7+ feet tall and built like a brick shithouse and his ability absorption has him rearranging his body structure on a semi-regular basis, all that adds up to a terrifyingly high calorie requirement. I’d probably resort to cannibalism too tbh.

#rottmnt #rottmnt theory #meat sweats #repo mantis #hypnopotamus #warren stone #the sando brothers #drug mention cw #lmk if i should tag this as anything else #i wish i had thought of this in time for halloween lol

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dwellordream · 3 years

Text

dish duty

freeform for @wayhavensummer as I really wanted to write a water fight

T Rating (for passionate kissing and general tomfoolery) Felix x Detective Esme Kingston, 2000 words

“I wish you were a breakfast in bed kind of person,” Felix complains, though not very passionately, as he finishes what seems like his fourth stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

Esme considers herself a very controlled individual. She dresses neatly and conservatively, her home and office are impeccably organized, and she’s a vegetarian who eats, generally, a very healthy and balanced diet.

However. On the weekends, and especially with Felix’s recent influence, that goes somewhat out the window. Not all the way, but close enough to the edge. No, these are not organic whole wheat dark chocolate chip pancakes. They are the unhealthy kind chock full of additives and preservatives that children adore. But as Tina once said, everything we eat is bioengineered, right?

Felix doesn’t need to eat; well, he doesn’t need to eat a normal human’s diet, unhealthy or healthy, it doesn’t matter. But he likes to, and he has a keen sweet tooth. He claims his taste buds aren’t dulled compared to the rest of Unit Bravo because he was born as he is now, and so he has no memory or experience of eating food as a human to compare it with.

Nothing is lacking for him, because he never had it to begin with. And unlike Mason, ‘loud’ flavors or various textures don’t irk him, so Felix is pretty much willing to try anything, no matter how sweet, spicy, or sour. And especially if it involves chocolate.

“Breakfast in bed on a day like this is a terrible idea,” Esme points out as she gets up to clear her small kitchen table.

It’s not as hot out as it was yesterday, but it’s already very warm for ten o’clock in the morning- they slept in embarrassingly late- and she can tell that by midday it will be unbearable, which is why they have plans to go to an art exhibit in the city.

Esme enjoys long drives and would rather wait out today in air conditioning than suffer through it in her sweltering flat. And Felix is always willing to go to just about anything; it’s all new to him, so why not?

Worst case scenario, he doesn’t like it, and even when Felix isn’t enjoying something, Esme still enjoys him, because rather than sulk or brood he simply strikes up a running commentary on what he thinks they should be doing instead.

Yes, sometimes it’s irritating, but often she has to fight to hide the smiles he strives to coax out of her. She once took him to a lecture at a university and halfway through had to stop looking at him because he found a way to make her grin with just his eyes- the rest of his face was totally stoic.

He worked her up so much she had to excuse herself to get a drink of water, just so she didn’t burst out laughing in the middle of the professor’s droning slide-show. Felix, of course, followed her out into the hall and cornered her in an alcove, where they were sharply reprimanded by a passing janitor a few minutes later, who mistook them for two wild students who couldn’t wait to get back to their dormitory.

A year ago, the thought of this encounter, and of a morning like today, eating syrupy pancakes and lounging around in her pyjamas this late in the day, would have horrified and appalled Esme. But it is very hard to feel guilty or ashamed of anything that happens between her and Felix. Initially that frightened her, that being with him was so… easy. Nothing was ever supposed to be easy, or it wasn’t worth the effort. That had always been her motto.

But now…

“What are you doing?” she sighs, as she watches Felix stack far too many dishes on the palm of one hand, like a particularly adventurous waiter.

“Scoot,” he waves his free hand at her, showing off that he doesn’t even need both to hold them. “You’re in front of the sink.”

Esme shakes her head and steps aside as Felix deposits the rest of their dirty dishes inside the sudsy sink, which she’d just finished filling up with water.

This flat came with a small dishwater but it works terribly and Esme lived alone for so long and used so few dishes that it made more sense to just hand wash them immediately after eating. Felix thinks this is terribly boring but she refuses to have an insect infestation by leaving dirty dishes out for that long.

“I can wash them,” he says now, to her surprise. “You have to go get ready.”

“So do you,” she points out dryly. Yes, she feels oddly exposed in just a camisole and boy shorts, but he’s just in his boxers. She’s doing a very good job of not gawking at him like a schoolgirl.

Felix is not built the way Ava is, with powerful muscles and the stature of a workhorse or, as Mason would put it, a brick shithouse- but nor tall and willowy like Nat or lean and sinewed like Mason. Rather, he is toned and compact- she doesn’t know how else to describe it.

He’s a few inches taller than her, not much wider, and certainly isn’t bulging with muscles or in possession of washboard abs. But the sight of the smooth dark skin of his toned stomach and chest and the way he moves, almost like an acrobat, like he were ready to pitch forward into action at any moment, propelling himself with his arms or legs- gives her a strange combination of desire and envy. He would be an incredible gymnast and he is a beautiful dancer, moving gracefully to any rhythm without having ever heard it before.

In contrast, she feels thin and pallid and wretched- she’s petite and lacks much in the way of fat or muscle- she’s not athletic in the least, her belly forms a small pouch when she slouches, her skinny arms strain and tremble when she lugs heavy boxes of case files in and out of her office, she runs awkwardly and can’t dance to save her life, despite several years of ballet and a ballroom class in uni.

She’d like to be pragmatic and explain it’s just about feeling useful and capable of defending herself, but the truth is she’s vain and self conscious all at once. In her head, she is sleek and hard and beautiful, carved from crystal and not pasty flesh. Compared to Felix, she often feels like a melting snowman.

Felix is busy recounting her entire getting ready routine; Esme rolls her eyes and huffs but waits patiently until he’s done.

“Anyways, I just have to shower,” he shrugs.

“You’re my guest,” says Esme, “I’m not going to leave you to clean up while I powder my nose-,”

“I’m your guest?” he lays a hand on his chest in mock offense, and then his grin turns impish. “Your guest? That stings, Ez. Do all your guests come over late at night-,”

“Felix,” she warns, though her lips are twitching-

“And you sashay over the door and pull it open like, Hello, stranger-,”

“I didn’t say that!”

“No, it was cute!”

“It wasn’t supposed to be cute, you said you wanted me to surprise you, so-,”

“So I was very surprised,” he insists, and then catches her off guard by grabbing her by the hips and pulling her close.

Esme wriggles ineffectively- she’s not really trying to get away, which he knows- and then groans when he crushes her against his chest. He’s not a big man but he gives very big hugs, and she’d be lying if she said the weight and pressure wasn’t reassure, like a heavy quilt bundled around her. But… it’s hot. And he runs hot, too.

She says as much, into his chest, and then, to her alarm, hears him laugh, reach over, scoop up some soapy water with his hand, and drizzle it down her head.

Esme shrieks and rips away from him- Felix’s gold eyes are huge in his face, she can tell he’s torn between delight at his own daring and worry that he pushed her too far and she’s truly infuriated- but instead she touches at her damp hair in shock, then snatches up a wet rag from the counter and flings it at him. It hits him directly in the face; he yelps and bats it away, and she darts back, snickering.

“Oh, so you want a bath instead?” He raises his eyebrows at her.

“No, no, no,” Esme is saying, but the laughter leaking out between her protests says otherwise. “You started it-,”

“Yeah, so I’ll finish it. Come here, Ezza, let me wash you off- you have suds in your hair-,” he feints a lunge at her and she shrieks again, like a giddy teenager, then clamps her hand over her mouth, worrying the neighbors might hear.

Felix has no such concerns, and makes another grab for her- he secures her wrist and she slips on the tiled floor- he takes advantage of this to scoop her up, and flings her over his shoulder, which is barely broad enough for her thrashing torso to fit.

“Oh my God, what are you doing- Felix!” she shouts when he pins her there with one arm, grabs a cup with the other, and dumps water down her back. It’s barely cold but she yelps all the same- he sets her back down, triumphant that now her camisole is drenched and clinging to her, and she darts around him and hits him with a sponge, spraying more soap suds all over his bare chest.

“Wow,” he says. “Wow. That’s weak- that’s a really weak move, Detective, where is your tactical brilliance- okay, pretend I’m a Trapper, what do you do-,” he grabs at her arms to pin them but she successfully ducks out of his reach and hurls the sponge at him as he gives chase out of the kitchen.

“Don’t get water on the floors! I just mopped!”

“You’re the one who took it here!”

She leaps into the bathroom, breathless and trembling with adrenaline and laughter, and tries to slam the door shut in his face, but she never stood a chance of outrunning him- even if they were both human, she wouldn’t have. Still, she notes how careful he is, in the moment, not to crowd her in the confined space, worried about knocking her into the hard porcelain sink or toilet, and he waits until she steps back into the shower, cornered.

His hand hovers near the spout.

“Don’t you dare,” Esme warns.

He turns it on, and cold water cascades down full force onto her, soaking her to the skin. But before she can even flail or sputter, he’s stepped in beside her, wrapping himself around her, the contrast of his warm skin and the cold water making her cling to him all the more.

He kisses her lips, and she tastes soap for an instant, making her grimace, but then he’s moved onto her neck, lips tugging and pulling at the skin there, and she digs her fingers into his shoulder blades as she kisses his jaw in return, dragging her teeth across the corner of his lips.

When he heaves her up so he is half holding her, one hand under her thigh, the other leg stationary, she surges against him until his back is against the tiled wall and they are both directly under the flow of water. Then she gropes at the dial and shuts it off; it extinguishes to a trickle, causing beads to flow down their upturned faces.

She’s panting- he’s not as breathless, but jittery and shivering all over, and not from the cold water.

“Felix,” Esme whispers, and pecks him on the lips again as he reluctantly releases her.

“Yeah?” His pupils are languidly dilating, like a golden bloom.

“You did say you would do the dishes…”

He heaves with silent laughter, and then mouths something at the ceiling. “You’re killing me.”

“I know,” she smiles. “But you started it.”

Out of kindness, she takes a very quick cold shower, so she can help him dry off, too.

#felix hauville #esme kingston #wayhaven summer #the wayhaven chronicles #one shot

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baoshan-sanren · 4 years

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okay, so I’m gonna answer like this, just in case the read more from asks is still malfunctioning

I actually wrote a sort of a summary for 2ha that you can find right here, but that one is also pretty vague, bc I was trying not to give out spoilers - still highly recommend reading that first

so i guess problematic aspects and major spoilers under the cut

the thing I see people most often have an issue with is the pairing itself. there’s about a ten year (or more) difference between Chu WanNing and Mo Ran (physically - technically, Mo Ran has the mind of a 30-year old when he returns to his younger body so I recommend reading that explanation in the summary i linked above). you add to that the fact that Mo Ran is Chu WanNing’s disciple, and people tend to lose their shit

the important thing to point out is the fact that the relationship is wholly non-sexual in nature until Mo Ran is in his 20′s. Chu WanNing does admit to being in love with his disciple (to himself and us, the readers - not Mo Ran) way before that, but his cultivation is ascetic in nature, and he seems to have no understanding how his love could even translate into a physical relationship, until Mo Ran is in his 20′s and built like a brick shithouse. even then, Mo Ran (as the one who first admits his sexual attraction + the one with actual experience of that nature [by which i mean he spent his formative years hopping from brothel to brothel and screwing everything that walks]) is the main instigator of every sexual contact between them.

it is an interesting power dynamic, one people who don’t actually read the novel tend to see as squicky on the surface, but as a person who usually stays away from these “young disciple/older master” dynamics, I found that nothing about their relationships bothered me (except for the whole Taxian-jun torture/rape thing which is pretty horrifying, but you get an explanation for that at the end of the novel)

anyway, here is the basic MAJOR SPOILERS summary

a disciple chooses a master who is cold on the surface and severely socially awkward

disciple gets cursed™ to forget all the kindness ever done to him

disciple becomes convinced his master (and everyone else) hates him and looks down on him because of the curse

disciple grows up to be an evil fuck who makes himself the emperor overlord and kills everyone who ever looked at him wrong

disciple chains up his master for eight years and tortures him for being mean™ to him in his formative years (major rape warnings for this section)

master dies to get away from him

disciple finally dies at the age of thirty-something

gets transported back into the body of his fifteen year old self (with the curse™ now removed)

disciple spends years realizing that he had been wrong about everything

disciple realizes he is in love with his master

disciple is now in his 20′s and built like a chippendales model

disciple pursues master pretty fucking relentlessly

disciple and master get it on

the cultivation world is still falling apart because someone else is following in the disciple’s old footsteps of trying to be the evil emperor overlord

the curse is revealed

lots of plot

everyone still dies

but without getting into the detail, there is still a semi-happy ending

hope that helps!

#2ha #2ha spoilers #i def mean spoilers like #some of this shit doesn't get revealed until you're in the last bit of the novel so #don't click if you don't wanna know

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divine-draws · 4 years

Text

okay i had a whole google doc that i wrote a buncha shit but imma try to CONDENSE it and make my ideas more clear bc there was some wishy washy in there. BUT dabihawks ice skating au bc im gay for that shit. all of it under the cut bc this shit is gunna get LONG. buckle in fuckers. ALSO FEEL FREE TO ASK ME ABOUT this i will be happy to answer shit :3c

SO fair warning before we begin. i know shit about ice sports. im like 1) not THAT educated nor have i legit participated though ive always wanted to and 2) this is just self indulgent so like if i dont get shit right or whatever dont come at me bro. im here to have FUN and live a bit vicariously. also as for location of all this shit i dont know and dont care and am american so my perspective on things are skewed. anyway cw: abuse mention

so dabi (touya) is a previous figure skater

he’s a figure skating prodigy

enji was a pro hockey player (id say figure skating but this man was BUILT like a brick shithouse idk man) has a lot of championships under his belt but doesnt even begin to touch the legacy of his one sided rival yagi toshinori

him and rei meet and marry at a young age. she like.. actually liked him then?? shit was kinda okay but things kinda.... got bad quick. the abuse etc was ... yeah. she ends up having dabi and fuyumi (they’re twins babeyy) at a young age too and kinda doesnt feel like she can get out of her horrible marriage

we wont dwell too much on the bad part of all of this though. anyway rei was a figure skater

p well known and known for her fucking GRACE god she moved so well on the ice.

she was so beautiful and spoke through her movements and enji loved that... and so as a hockey player and with a (now previous) figure skater wife he was like aight my kids WILL take up an ice sport and be the FUCKING BEST

dabi isnt made for hockey. enji tries to get him into it but it’s... nah... fuyumi isnt the best with figure skating. she’s good!! and her and dabi do some pair skating when they’re younger but it’s.. hm. dabi is the one with the clear talent here. (fuyumi is a beast on the ice when it comes to hockey though. will dominate. but she kinda... didnt really continue with it)

enji isnt PLEASED that his son isnt gunna be a hockey player but he still values figure skating and will fucking make sure he’s the BEST at it. and so the brutal training starts. he gets some good coaches and also takes up the coaching mantle

the thing is.. rei was amazing as a skater but her body just... wasnt really made for all of that??? and dabi unfortunately kinda inherited that. his body hates the impacts and such. he’s amazing at figure skating. he has a grace similar to his mothers but there’s something more fierce to him.

and honestly !!! he gets far!!

also natsuo comes around. he’s a bit too clumsy for either sport and resents the fact that him and fuyumi are neglected by their father. he also loves touya and gets so pissed seeing his brother so hurt

and shouto is born and this kid was made to be on the ice. he’s skating from the moment he can fucking stand on his own.

obvs enji’s attention is split but it’s mainly on touya who is winning championships and GOING places but it’s still not good enough

anyway idk how far he goes?? but it’s the biggest competition yet and on ice mid routine he lands wrong

one thing leads to the next and he’s pretty much medically retired from a young age. he can skate. he can still kinda preform but he cant do what he used to at ALL and he cant keep up with the brutal pace enji sets. there’s a lot of trying to push him still and it’s just.. not happening

for all it’s worth dabi is kinda glad he isnt doing it anymore. but he fears for his babies brother. shouto is a natural and while yes being a professional athlete of any sort is brutal on your body, his body is a lot more capable

but like touya before, shouto is pushed to his absolute limits. bleeding and injuries and puking his guts out from being pushed too far

there’s a lotta resentment but he still pushes through w skating.

(side note but there DEF is some todomido/tododeku w hockey player izuku who ends up being coached by THE yagi toshinori and who helps shouto out w making shit his own)

anyway so in the end dabi ends up working at a rink tho lol

it’s p much owned by shigarai and run by the lov (who in this au end up making their own little ragtag unofficial local hockey team p much and play games against other teams like them)

despite his father’s whole career, dabi does enjoy playing hockey with these dipshits

but yeah he enjoys his time working at the rink, fucking around and sleeping in random places and sometimes running the zamboni

he’s also best frenemies with shigaraki. they get along and both deal with a shitty upbringing and despite some slight animosity they both would kill if someone fucked w the other

(also at some point dabi DEF teaches some little kid classes lol)

also dabi does sometimes skate his own routines from time to time. only when he’s alone really. though fuyumi has a pass to be there though he will gripe still

SO HAWKS AM I RIGHT??

now there is a couple ways to go with this and somewhere in me there is an au with hockey player hawks who takes skating lessons from figure skater dabi BUT

i think for this au we’ll just say he was a figure skater from the get go

i think he WANTED to do hockey as a kid. like shouto he’s also a fucking natural and was skating as soon as he could fucking stand and walk. and he looked up to enji and kinda wanted to take up hockey but

listen,,, trans hawks. who wanted to be like todoroki enji and be a pro hockey player. shit just.. didnt work like that though and besides he’s a tiny dude and god he’d be fucking obliterated

he kinda is self taught and the ice is his escape from his shitty home life

idk how this works but listen gotta tie in the commission somehow???

he’s scouted or whatever for figure skating at a very young age and his mom is happy to take the heavy scholarships and happy to sign him over to skate for these ppl and have them push him to be The Best

and this kid is FAST. he’s fast and is insane with his jumps and stg it almost looks like he’s FLYING (which gets him the nickname hawks)

the coaches are brutal and shit sucks and a lot of the time it kinda sucks the life out of the sport but he still enjoys it

he has a love for outfits that legit have flare to them (also im thinking of johnny weir’s one outfit w the feathers but yknow instead of white they are RED) and while he does do routines to boring ass music he mainly likes doing shit different (also dabi was p much forced the whole time to do shit to that boring ass music but on his own he’d use his own music taste to skate to)

and he’s good!! he GOES places. he’s like makes it to the olympics at a young age and is one of THE youngest gold medalists for figure skating

im sure somewhere along the line him and dabi DID meet. it was at some competition and hawks was VIBRATING bc there’s ENJI and he wants and autograph and oH GOD IS THAT HIS SON??? he’s HOT. (and at this time dabi still had his red hair and like no piercings and what little ones he had they were out but this dumbass will not recognize him later on)

but god he needs to chill TF out or he will fuck up in the competition

he hears about dabi’s whole accident and like feels for him but again it’s not like they were friends. there was more of a slight rivalry and they barely spoke if they did

but so idk like.. between seasons hawks finds himself going like nearly every day to this rink.. aka shigaraki’s rink (also sidenote but lbr it’s really run by shirakumo who kinda has to fucking herd the cats w this group)

as frenemies dabi and shigaraki share their distaste for some of these pro athletes (tho some get a pass) and kinda complain about hawks a bit tho like..... shigaraki cant complain TOO much bc of the money from hawks renting out the rink for a few hours almost every day

dabi is too gay for this shit when he actually sees hawks in action. rip him

tbh they dont really interact tho (besides dabi telling him to gtfo the rink or he’ll run him over with the zamboni) until one day that hawks catches dabi skating

he was done and should have been gone but he forgot something on the bleachers and then he sees dabi and.. oh boy he’s GAY AF

and also dabi is RLLY GOOD???

and so hawks makes a FOOL of himself and startles the poor guy and p much presses all the wrong buttons w asking why he doesnt compete or something

and i mean im sure they had some SLIGHT progress w talking before. nothing significant but god the walls go RIGHT THE FUCK UP and dabi is pissed

tbh dabi was gunna get to the point where he LEGIT talked to him and maybe lowkey asked him out (he says this but shigaraki calls his bluff) and now there is no way. he storms off and tries to avoid him so hard

and hawks tries to corner him a bit but after some time he does manage to corner him and be like pls just let me take you out to dinner to make up for that shit????

aaand dabi accepts bc listen okay he cant say no to free food ??? like he’s kinda pissy w this guy but also.. listen he has EYES

anywayyy p much this just leads to them dating

hawks DEF looks him up and watches all the vids of him and like the idiot he is realizes that he met him before ( “oh my GOD i know you” “uh… we’re dating i hope u know me?????” “nO I MEAN WE MET AT (insert comp)”)

but before that dabi did like tell him some shit. mainly about like how he used to skate blah blah and the whole thing that ended all of that

he doesnt really delve too deep into like his shitty childhood until well later

idk what leads to it but the convo finally comes up and it’s so draining for dabi and hawks is horrified and ready to fight his dad (“listen i just sharpened my skates i’ll just-”)

anyway some side things bc this is long and i will answer questions on this tho

rumi is a women’s pro hockey player and fuyumi who actually follows hockey and shit has the BIGGEST crush on her (they end up together)

also natsuo comes to see one of the leagues games (he hasnt really seen them play tbh?? he hears about it from dabi but he lives like at least a few hours away on campus and is going for med school so rip him) and like he meets shigaraki and anyway dabi is losing his FUCKING MIND bc his best frenemy/boss and his younger brother are FLIRTING. RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM???

dabi and hawks are really gay together and have skated together by this point and made out on ice a few times and shigaraki was miserable and is like “NOW U KNOW!!” and dabi is pissed bc “yEAH BUT THAT”S MY LITTLE BROTHER??? IT”S NOt thE SAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

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the-lady-bryan · 4 years

Text

harry potter/farscape crossover idea

okay so firstly, i’m NEVER going to develop this further. i’ve just got no muse. but here we are, with what little bit i did throw into notepad at one point.

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

Harry had stopped believing in coincidence centuries ago.

It didn't help that he was yanked for a while back and forth through realities - though admittedly that was partly his own fault because he didn't quite anticipate the level of power his magic had risen to after the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of Voldemort. When he wished to be anywhere else than dealing with the press and the fans and the fame and oh Merlin damn it Ginny we're not even dating and you and your mother are picking out goddamned wedding china!

But he digresses.

His reality hopping had finally ceased and his magic had FINALLY settled down. It looked like this reality would be his permanent one provided he didn't fuck it all up again. Which he tried - he really tried because holy fucking hell some of this shit he had to deal with was absolutely insane! He'd seen Voldemort the Snake-Face but that did NOT prepare him for meeting the literal psychic bipedal lizards called the Scarans. And he'd rather not meet them again if he could help it.

To survive in this crazy universe he'd had to adapt and unfortunately that meant kill or be killed.

Harry had come to terms with the blood on his hands a long time ago.

Unfortunately it was right before he was picked up by the Peacekeepers - the military arm of a race called the Sebbacians. And that's how he ended up in prison for assassinating some asshole dictator in the middle of nowhere who, unfortunately had Peacekeeper connections roughly eight cycles - years - after the fact. He'd settled down on some other backwater planet that reminded him a lot of Earth. Well, one of the Earths he'd been to at any rate. So what if the people were slightly orange and melted shit when they screamed. He just got better at making up scream-proofing charms on the fly is all. They were called Interons or something of the sort. Didn't matter much to Harry. He'd found a place to settle down and live a quiet life for the first time in three hundred years.

And now he was being transferred from his comfortable cell on some planet to a prison ship. Oh joy of joys.

Another eighty years later....

Harry sat with his muzzle on like a good little prisoner when they came into his cell for the routine torture and supposed interrogations. How did he still look like a child after eighty years? How old was he really? Where did he come from? Who else has he murdered? Who all hired him? The usual really.

They left him alone mostly unless they transferred other prisoners off the ship and he was all that was left.

They'd killed him a few times, but they didn't realize it. He'd healed and awoken too quickly for them to notice.... But someone did. He was sure of it. He just couldn't quite figure out who...

At least until he'd been on the ship for another fifty years. That's when he felt her for the first time poking at the edges of his awareness. She called herself Moya. She was the ship. The Leviathan is what the Peacekeeper guards called her.

Harry looked up from his liquid meal, the straw still stuck in the hole of his muzzle that allowed him to drink and "eat" when he heard the guards outside his door. Curious, he silently asked Moya what was happening as a blue woman was taken past his cell. A new prisoner. A Delvian, Moya had said. Harry was just grateful the new prisoner wasn't another goddamn Hynerian. Horrible little bastards reminded him of horrifying mix of Mundungus Fletcher and Draco Malfoy. Not something he liked to imagine. But at least she should be much more pleasant company than Rygel.

He found he liked the Delvian. Her chanting was very soothing. Moya and her Pilot seemed to like it very much as well.

Harry was woken by the roars of a tentacle faced beast of a man? He thought it was a man at least... when they brought the Luxan on board. With the muzzle on though, he could hardly say anything to anyone other than Moya and Pilot. And that was only because whatever it was they did, it was similar enough to legillimency that he basically said fuck it, why not. Otherwise, he'd have gone crazy long before then.

And then... one day, he woke to sirens and the ship jarring about and oh dear heavens that's laser fire isn't it?

"Don't just sit there! Come on!" Oh it was that horrible muppet thing again. Harry just stared at him in annoyance before the blue woman ran past and it dawned on him... Oh, it's a prison break.

It didn't take long for Harry to subdue a couple of guards. With some of Moya's lovely little robots leading him around he was able to avoid most confrontations and make his way to a safe storage chamber and hunker down until the fighting was over. He quite liked the chamber, and made his opinion known to Moya and her Pilot.

Eventually when things have settled down and they've starburst away Harry is led by some DRDs to where the other escaped prisoners are. They were't really pleased to see a young man wearing a muzzle and holding a pulse rifle judging by the multiple weapons pointed at him.

"who the hell are you?!" "He was here before anyone else." "ship's manifest doesn't even have him listed." "That muzzle can't be comfortable. Here, allow me..." "Are you mad! You take that off him and he'll kill us all!"

The muzzle is taken off and the first thing Harry says for a couple of centuries is, "You, the blue one. Oh I have so much enjoyed your chanting. It helped soothe Moya and her pilot for a time. I don't... I don't quite know what had them so agitated for a while but it certainly did help them. And myself as well. I look forward to hearing more of that lovely chanting. Now can I get a decent cuppa tea? Perhaps a food packet? I'll take anything solid. I've been living on liquid nutrients for around a hundred and fifty years and I can tell you it's not a pleasant way to eat."

"You're speaking English. That's English! My translator microbes things not translating you! That is the god damn Queen's English!"

"Of course I'm speaking bloody English! I'm from bloody England you fucking yank!"

"you said fuck! Not.... You have no idea how good it is to see another human!"

"I can assume you're from Earth, Mr..."

"Crichton. John Crichton. Astronaut."

"Harry Potter. Wiz-"

"The Master of Death!" - The Hynerian.

"Well I was going to say Wizard but I suppose that works just as well."

"Peacekeeper legends claim you can kill a man with just two words. Is that true?"

"Yes. With the proper motivation at least. But I.... I turned from my calling a long time ago. I'm not exactly a man of peace or pacifism, but I just wanted to settle down and have a quiet life after all my travels and adventures."

"Wait a minute..... A wizard. Named Harry Potter. You've got to be kidding me! Next you'll be telling me you ride around chasing a little flying ball on a broomstick."

"you know about Quidditch? Tell me, Mr. Crichton, are there any wizards or witches on Earth still? What year even is this by your calendar?"

"Dear god he honestly thinks he's a wizard..."

"what did I say?"

Then a few days later, after Harry's saved Crichton's life, the man finds him sitting and staring out a porthole, floating a cup in front of him with just a wiggle of his fingers with a fond smile on his face. "There's these... books. Kids books, back on Earth. My friend’s kid was obsessed with 'em. Got on the pre-order list at the bookstore near the base so he could get the third book the day it comes out for her birthday." "Why are you telling me this, Mr. Crichton?" "The first book is called Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone. The second one that came out last year was called Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets." And at this, Harry closes his eyes and sighs. "And what was the third book to be called? Did you know?" "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Did you really kill a giant fucking snake with just a hat, a bird, and a sword?" "If I told you yes?" "What kind of world do you come from where twelve year olds are expected to know how to fight a giant fucking snake?" "It was over sixty feet long. Built like a brick shithouse. And for some reason facing off against that with a magic bird, magic hat, and a magic sword was... according to my senile headmaster, a good way to build character."

This starts a sort of ritual between the two not-the-same-earth-earthlings. Crichton knows all about the first two books because his friend's kid is fucking obsessed with them and so Harry gives him a first person "this is how shit went down" and "this is honestly what i was thinking at the time" and "yes, with my bare hands, i murdered a man at eleven and nobody thought to send me to a fucking therapist. It was all "here's some bloody candy, Harry. Don't ask questions. Also here's house points in return for killing a man at the tender age of 11." That should have been our first clue that Albus too many fucking names Dumbledore was crazier than goddamn Voldemort ever thought of being."

And when Crichton is captured and tortured with the aurora chair, Harry's there for him in equal measure as Zhaan. And he never asks him about it, but he's just like "Bro. I got your back. You ever need to scream at someone about it, you come to me. We can compare scary pale faced black wearing nightmare men any time." And when Harry finds out that his new best bro has a clone of Scorpius in his head, he starts teaching him occlumency techniques because he's like "even without magic, this shit is damn helpful. Oh, and if you ever find yourself kind-of possessed by the bastard - hey, don't look at me like that John I don't make the rules. This shit just happens when you've got someone else living in your head. Trust me. Remember what I told you about that fucking scar of mine? Right. So listen. You ever get possessed, you want me to, uh, off you? I mean, I don't want to. But I will if I have to. Sometimes if you die for a bit, it helps reset shit." "I'm not immortal harry! I can't just reset my brain like some fucking wizard!" "There! That anger! Hang onto that. Trust me. It'll help if you ever get possessed."

And of fucking course when he's possessed by Scorpius Harry's like "I know that's you, you fucking asshole. Let go of my best bro or I will fucking gut you like a fish." "no you won't. You kill me, your kill John." "that's right and i already had this conversation with him. I'm sure you were there for it, too. You've got 24 arns or the real you is going to get a rather nasty visitor after I forcibly rip that chip out of Johnny's head and fry your ass so nobody gets to have the wormhole tech in there. You understand me, lizard breath?"

#harry potter #farscape #crossover idea #no i won't be going further with this

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sockablock · 5 years

Note

oh my god i love your dnd characters so much! i wanna hear more about them if you don't mind!

!! awww that’s so sweet of you and absoLUTELY I’d never turn down a chance to gush!

Dharka is a forest gnome who’d been separated from her family at a veryyoung age. Luckily, she was found by a mama bear, taken in and raised alongside her cubs. After she grew up, and they parted ways, she roamed the woods for a good chunk of her life until one day getting her leg caught in a bear trap. She was saved by a friendly halfling lumberjack named Elin nursed back to health, and eventually the two of them became friends and fell in love. They spent 100 wonderful years together, until Elin passed away from old age and Dharka was left on her own. With a mid-life crisis setting in and nothing better to do anymore, she set off into the world to explore and see what all the fuss was about…

Koval is a farming kid who was raised by his paternal grandparents. When he was about 16, he realized that he could (accidentally) do magic, and–urged by his grandparents who were convinced he was a chosen one, and who believed his mother must have been some kind of spirit–ventured out into the world to discover who he was. He spent most of the story going around telling people he was “half-human,” and only by the end of it all did he finally run into his mom, a very human bard who just liked country accents

Delwyn is a tiefling fighter born to dwarf parents because, really, why not? She’s pretty short, clocking in at 4′5″, but built like a brick shithouse. She had a thing for the cleric of the party (a very quiet lady aasimar), and liked to go around challenging people to drinking contests. At story’s end, she settled down with the aasimar to start a blacksmithing business together and, eventually, to get happily married.

Rilla is a water genasi druid who grew up in the swamps south of most civilization. Her father is human, and her mother was a water spirit who’d disappeared soon after Rilla was born. Rilla was mostly raised by her father, and her adventure kicked off when he fell ill. She set out, to either a) find a cure, or b) find her mom so they could meet one last time. At some point along the way, she ended up in the big city with her ragtag party and, horrified that there were lizards being raced at the local casino, convinced everyone to stage an elaborate heist (and they also snagged some gold along the way ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Kathy Jenkins is a bard I made for a Space-themed oneshot for the sole purpose of telling my friends I love them through the most annoying motivational quotes i could find

#i love all my disaster children so much hsdjkfhsk #dungeons and dragons #dnd characters #dnd #jay answers #personal #my disaster children

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flawedvictori · 5 years

Text

Twelve Rounds... Plus or Minus a Few Centuries

A/N: SERIOUS CONTENT WARNINGS. This is the story of Virtue's life, or, the first chapter of it. There's death, parental death, kid death, like... Drug use, Alcoholism, presumably that's all but I'll add more if more show up. This is gonna be running along a lot of genres, because it's the story of a whole life. And like... legitimately, this might be one of the best things I've written in a long time. I hope you all like it!

And, if you do, maybe back ya girls patreon or toss me a couple bucks on kofi so I can continue doing stuff like this? You get requests!

“What about you?” Key asks, tilting her head, a hand holding Vel’s beneath the table. “What’s your life been like?” “Yeah, dinosaur.” Vel says, grinning like an idiot who was… well… holding a girl’s hand under the table. “You’ve been around forever, what kind of sh-stuff have you seen?”

“Well…” Virtue starts, shaking her head…. And sighing, a little. “That’s a long story, so make sure you got the drinks you need, because I ain’t repeating shit.”

Vel raises her glass, and Virtue smiles.

“Alright, so...”

You already know this part. I woke up in a crashed jumpship during the collapse, a few dozen clicks out from the shadow of the Traveller.

There were a couple families nearby, group of poor, hungry bastards getting slaughtered by thralls.

I’d just been rezzed for the first time, probably no more than a week or two after I’d died, and I was right into the shit. ----

She snatches up a discarded shotgun as the voice that was and wasn’t hers whispers in her mind, warning of danger and giving instructions.

At it’s bequest, she swings to the right, pumping shots into the writhing mass of faceless, gaunt… things, emptying the weapon and moving in with her fists.

They scream, an angry, horrifying sound clashing with the terrified shrieks of the humans as they all press in on her and she finds herself adopting a slightly-stiff stance, ducking between flailing arms to strike back with a flurry of jabs-

And lightning awakens beneath her skin, leaving contrails in the air as she continues her assault, every swing, every jab, every dodge leaving sparks hanging in the air… And the voice screams at her to swing and she sets her foot, spinning with the punch as she throws a massive haymaker and the sparks explode.

And, with a sudden finality, the things are no more.

She looks over to the group, and her stomach drops.

----

They’d been slaughtered. Not all of them, but… too many. But the fucked up part is… The ones who weren’t, they were used to it. Fucking...

Kids, no more than, what, eight years old, and they’d already seen enough death in the collapse that watching everyone die in front of them had barely fazed em.

I was just glad I could help.

----

One of the kids stares at the bodies, unblinking, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s kneeling down beside them.

“Hey, there…” She says, as warm as she can. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Ari.” The kid says, sniffling. “My name’s Ari.”

“That’s a pretty name.” She says, casting an eye over the body… and feeling her heart fall as she spots the obvious resemblance. “Ari, I-” “What’s yours?” Ari asks, tearing her eyes from the corpse of… her father? Brother? Who could say.

And she just blinks. “What?”

“Your name?” Ari says, nodding.

“My…” She blinks again, staring away. “What’s-” “I don’t know, I’m afraid.” A small, flying robot- her ghost, Persephone, that voice says in her mind- “We never know anything about the ones we’re assigned to raise, aside from who it must be.” Persephone says, rotating her interlocking parts and bobbing in the air.

“I don’t know.” She says, turning away from Persephone’s shrug. “Guess I don’t have one.”

“Well…” Ari says, squinting at her. “You… you’re like a knight, right? A hero!” She raises an eyebrow at that, looking down at the ruined jacket and singed jeans she was wearing and sorely wishing she had some shining armor, right then. But… “I guess I am, sure.” “So…” Ari says, clearly thinking, “Honor?”

“I don’t think so.” She says, glancing over at the other groups, who were clearly eager to get away from the bloodshed, and makes her decision. “Hey, let’s walk and talk, okay?

“I’m tired.” Ari says, looking over at the bodies again. “Daddy used to carry me when I got tired.”

“Okay then, I’ll carry you. C’mon, up here.” She pats one massive shoulder, and Ari hesitates for a moment… but clambers on nonetheless, and she stands, walking over towards the group, a hand keeping Ari steady as the kid whispered name possibilities and the adults discussed their next move.

----

They’d heard rumors of people forming a safe haven nearby, but they didn’t know if they were true. They’d also heard of people like me, so I decided I’d go with them. I wasn’t that good, yet, but I could swing my fists and fire a gun, and Persephone had told me she could bring me back when I died, so I wanted to use that power to keep them alive.

----

“Chivalry?” Ari asks. “I don’t think so.” She responds, chuckling. “How about cowardice?”

“No!” Ari protests, giggling. “Knights are supposed to be brave! And, uhhh…. Virtuous. Oh! Virtue?”

“Virtue?” She asks, blinking. Something… clicks, in it, something feels right where everything else hasn’t, and she shrugs, being sure to tighten her grip on Ari first. “Sounds good to me.”

“You’re full of shit.” Vlana says, flipping a chair around and taking a seat at the table, herself. “That’s how you got your name?”

“No lie.” Virtue says, chuckling. “Found out later that Ari’s dad had been a big fan of the Arthurian Legends. Made a lot more sense, then.”

Vlana just raises an eyebrow, and Virtue laughs.

“What, you think I’d lie about how I got my own name?” Virtue asks, raising an eyebrow back, and Vlana scoffs. “No, I just… I dunno, it doesn’t sound very you, that’s all.” Vlana says, looking away, and Virtue gives a pained little smile.

“Yeah, well, it’s not the only thing.”

And so, we walked. Three days, with hunger eating us up inside, kids crying, parents gauging how much food they had and staring daggers at anyone with more. Don’t know if they’d have made a move if I hadn’t been there, if the whole thing would’ve gone to shit, but…it didn’t.

I spent my time carrying kids, mostly. Between the light and being 6’8 and built like a brick shithouse, I could handle it.

----

Even people like her needed sleep, food, water… and she hated it.

She’d much rather give as much as she could to everyone else, give the kids more supplies, never rest so no one else needed take watch, but…

Virtue sighs and punches the remnants of her jacket, balled into a makeshift pillow, before settling in and trying for a couple hours of shut-eye, at least.

----

I’m pretty sure I made the adults anxious. Makes sense, though. I wouldn’t trust a walking corpse, either. The kids were fine with it, but I’d bet they just liked not having to walk.

Ari, though… Ari took to me quicker than any of the rest of them. Can’t say I blame her. Didn’t really have anyone else.

----

The hunger pains wake her up, another reminder of the bits of mortality she still had left.

They come and go in bursts, but… she ignores them in favor of raising an eyebrow down at her stomach.

Ari’s head is there, the girl cuddled up to her side, her actual camping bag laying abandoned nearby.

She’s shaking, the space around her eyes raw and red, so Virtue puts aside the hunger pains and gently rests a hand on her back, humming softly.

Eventually, Ari quietens down, and so does Virtue.

----

On the fourth day, though… we ran into some trouble. Another big pack of thralls, but this one was different.

They were scarred, had missing bits, bullet holes clearly visible in the chitin. Seeing it, then, I knew.

We were almost home.

----

The screams start to catch up just as they’re cresting a hill, everyone running with all their might…

And Virtue nearly cries with relief when she sees clearly new walls and armed guards…

But they wouldn’t get there in time, unless…

“Here.” She says, kneeling down and letting the kids she’d been carrying scurry over to their parents. “I need you two to go with your mom, okay? And-” “No!” Ari says, squeezing her neck for all she’s worth. “I don’t wanna!”

“Sweetheart.” Virtue says, swallowing and pulling the kid off her, holding her out to and exasperated mother who, thankfully, owed her a favor. “Go with them. Time to do my duty, okay? I’ll see you in just a minute.”

“No!” Ari yells, as Virtue turns around, steeling herself.

“Run for it.” She instructs, and people start to run, the mother carrying Ari included. “I’ll give them more important things to worry about.”

She ignores the pains in her stomach, the dizziness, the headache…

And forces her light to the surface, wreathing her arms in electricity and charging the pack, laughing.

----

I bought them enough time to get into the town. Killed most of the group before they finally took me down, and the guards got the rest.

When Persephone brought me back, I was surrounded by fuckers with guns and one thin, cocky-looking bastard flanked by a ghost.

I knew I hated him, from the moment I saw him.

----

“Heya, gorgeous.” He says, grinning and leaning down as Virtue’s eyes open. “What’s your name?”

He’s a spindly little thing, with bright eyes and a disturbingly perfect smile, and she can’t help but grimace at the line. “Virtue.” She says, raising a hand to block out the light as she sits up. “Mind telling your boys to stand down?”

��Not yet.” He says, spitting off to the side and putting his boot out to push her back to the ground, resting his weight on her. “Can’t have another immortal fuck walkin’ around unchecked, that’s bad business, innit?”

There’s a sudden, almost animalistic urge to rip his leg off, but…. She lets it settle, glaring up at him. “Fine, you’re the boss.”

“And don’t go forgettin it, luv.” He says, pulling a handcannon out and leveling it at her head. “Now then, to business. Needed the extra manpower anyway, so n’matter what ya end up doin, your friends are stayin’ here, yeah?”

“Good.” Virtue says, glaring up at him. “They’re good people, they need a home.” “I ain't finished.” He says, calm as can be, pulling the hammer back. “Ya got three choices. Either you slink out of here all quiet-like, and we tell em all you died savin’ em, you try to argue with me and I kill ya right here, or…” “I work for you?” She asks, and he increases the weight on her chest… but not nearly enough to hurt someone built like her, and she’s not intimidated.

“You come be my right hand. Big fuck like you, don’t think any other shits’ll even try and tangle with us. You get food, a place to sleep, and I’ll keep that daughter of yours safe.”

Virtue raises an eyebrow at that, but nods. “How could I say no?”

“Good on ya.” He says, finally stepping off her and crossing his arms. “Name’s Cour, but you can call me boss like everyone else. Hope you’re ready to work, because we need to get some more ammo.” “Whatever you say, boss.” Virtue says, biting back a dozen insults as she forces herself to her feet, still wobbling. “Mind if I get some food first?” He snorts. “Not till you’ve worked. I saw what you did to those bugs, you ain’t gonna make me think you can’t do it.” And he turns around, chidingly waving the gun at her over his shoulder. “Jordan, take it from here. I’ve got pressin’ matters to attend to.”

And he walks away, as every inch of her body screams at her to kill him.

“And you didn’t?” Elise asks, plopping down in Vlana’s lap and ignoring her irritated muttering.

Virtue shrugs. “He had food, guns, and a bed I could sleep in. Wasn’t like I saw any better alternatives.”

“What, didn’t want to become a warlord?” She jokes, stretching out in Vlana’s lap like a cat in the sun as she gets comfortable.

“Heh, not quite. Wasn’t ever my kind of racket.” Virtue says, taking a long swig from her drink. “Now, where was I…”

Time… flew by, really.

I might have hated Cour, might not have liked his men, but the civilians were okay. Everyone did their part, everyone pitched in where they could, and shit was good, for a while.

Ari ended up moving in with me, picked up an apprenticeship with the blacksmith on her tenth birthday. God, I was so fucking proud of her.

Got a few good years, there, and sometimes… sometimes I miss them, even now.

But it didn’t last. Nothing ever could.

Virtue still wasn’t trusted with a gun.

Which was fine, really, it wasn’t like she needed one. She could handle herself just fine without a weapon of any kind, but…

She carried around a pair of cestus anyway.

Sure, she didn’t really need to worry about protecting her hands or adding any extra oomph to her punches, but… Ari had made them, and that was all that mattered, just like with the clumsily-made, too-small bracelet she kept on a leather cord around her neck.

The necklace was good luck, or so she told herself, and the cestus, well… at least they helped with intimidation, when she needed it.

----

It’d been a slow week. I’d been assigned to guard the north side of town while Ian’s crew went out on a scouting mission, and the only exciting thing all day had been the mad sprint to get there on time from my place.

I was pretty used to boring days, by then. Cour might’ve said I’d be his right hand, but he’d shunted me down to basic guard duty the second I’d questioned him.

Worked for me, though. I’d preferred protecting people to staring them down, even back then.

The real problem with quiet days, though, is that they never last forever.

----

Virtue’s close to nodding off from the boredom and the sun when she hears it, when she feels it.

The explosion is loud, sure, but what’s worse is feeling the walls shake, feeling her light spring to the surface, feeling a sudden rush of heat.

She runs for it, pushing her body to get every ounce of speed she can.

----

The entire south wall was down.

People were screaming, thralls were swarming the town, but all I could think of was Ari, asleep at home, alone.

My superiors were yelling on the comms, needing me in fifteen places at once, but I didn’t give a shit.

Ari needed me, my daughter needed me. I wasn’t going to let her down.

And then…

I did.

----

“Virtue!” Jordan’s gravelly voice booms in her headset. “We need you! Get your ass to the shelter!”

And she doesn’t hear it, her blood pounding in her ears as she runs for it.

“Where is everyone?” Someone screams, terror twisting the voice too much to be identifiable. “Where’s the south team?!”

And she ignores it, forcing herself to keep running.

“North team is down! Repeat, north team is down!” Diz says, in that shockingly-calm dispatch voice she’d been blessed with. “They’re swarming, east team, proceed to the shelter to secure it, west team, go find Virtue. We need someone with the Light!”

Her home comes into view, and her stomach drops as she spots the flames.

And then she hears it.

Ari, crying for help, and a thrall’s enraged scream.

She doesn’t think, doesn’t breathe, she just moves.

Through the fire, through the stench of the faceless fucks, through the death, she sprints into her home.

----

I almost made it.

----

She doesn’t do anything for a long time.

She just stares, numb, as her home burns around her and screams ring in her ears.

Eventually, things start to fade back in.

The scent of blood, both hive and human.

The heat pressing in on her.

The tears streaming down her face.

Her own breath, coming too quick, her heart beating, her blood pumping, her life-

She can’t trade it she can’t fix it she can’t get her back

Her life ticking on as everything presses in.

She takes a shaky breath, trying to get herself under control, and it turns into a sob as she falls to her knees.

The fire licks at her, and she slams a massive fist into the ground, electricity crackling to life along her arms as she screams…

But she’s far from the only one.

“Virtue! Where are ya, luv, I can’t kill all these bugs on my own!” A tinny voice yells in her ear, and everything becomes horribly, blessedly clear.

She raises a finger to her ear, choking down a sob.

“Virtue here. I’m back. These bugs won’t know what hit them.”

“The fuck you been, luv?” Cour yells, and she just laughs, mirthless.

“Hell. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

----

I’m not proud of what I did there.

I never went to the shelter, didn’t protect anyone, didn’t bother responding to any distress calls.

I hunted every single one of them down. Killed until there was nothing left, and then…

Then I dealt with the fallout.

----

“Where the fuck were you, Virtue?” Cour hisses, shoving her, but she doesn’t budge. “People died! Good people! Useful people! While you were off jerking your fucking dick-” Virtue hits him.

She doesn’t think about it, doesn’t consider what will happen.

She just swings with all her might, and feels a rush as it connects.

He hits the ground, unmoving, and she strides off, daring anyone to say something.

And no one does.

“I… I’m so sorry, Virtue.” Tarow says, finishing refilling her drink and giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I can’t imagine…”

Virtue just shakes her head, giving a pained smile. “It’s alright, been a few centuries, that wound’s had time to heal.”

“So… what did you do after that?” Vlana asks, clearly trying to move things past the pain, and Virtue gives her a smile for it.

“I didn’t handle it too well. Spent a few months wandering, trying to get my head in order, but then I got antsy, needed something to do aside from waste away.”

“And?”

“I did the only thing I could, in a world without the City, without anywhere safe.” Virtue says, sighing.

“Yeah?” Vlana asks, sitting back. “I became a Warlord.”

#oc stuff #destiny stuff #virtue #destiny #TCU

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vikingcarrot · 6 years

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jinzel, can you tell me more about him?

Ooh, I never get OC questions, yay.

He’s a Drakkari death knight, around 12 feet tall and built like a brick shithouse, though probably a bit more brawny dad-bod than the super-sculpted muscles I've previously drawn him with (because I have since decided that would be better suited to his age and the freezing climate he's from). About 68 when he died, he was the warlord of his local clan/tribe in Zul’drak until the Scourge came along and killed him. His open glowy chest wound is where his heart was carved out when he was killed, you know, so he could watch himself die. He was then raised as a DK for his rank while alive, and therefore his knowledge of Drakkari territory and war tactics etc, to kill his entire clan including his entire family (he had a wife and 3 teenage children) and raise them to start spreading blight across Zul'drak (which then later the troll Drakuru in the Zul’drak questlines totally sold out the remaining Drakkari to the Scourge like the piece of shit he was, heh). Once he was no longer useful for what he was raised for, he got sent to the Western Plaguelands to be cannon fodder with all the other 3rd-generation DKs and therefore freed by Tirion Fordring as per the questline. Couldn’t go back home to Zul'drak since there's nothing really left, and few Drakkari left as well. Now he just goes where there’s war and he can kill people to hold off the death knight insanity that occurs if they don't engage in enough bloodshed.

A very grumpy, surly, broodsome, washed-up old sellsword. Drinks way too much in an effort to get drunk and numb but undeath continues to prevent him being able to get that hammered. Doesn’t talk much, understands common and orcish a lot better than he speaks them. Works for the Argent Crusade sometimes, and sometimes the Horde. He’s not really loyal to anyone, but the Horde will tolerate him because they already have trolls, so he just sort of... defaults to them when necessary. Briefly he left the Horde to return to his brethren since what was left of the Drakkari threw their lot in with Zul's takeover campaign, due to I guess, twinges of guilt and probably loneliness as well, but despite all the undead/diseased Drakkari you see in Throne of Thunder he was probably not, uh... well-received. Would probably have been viewed with as much fear as hate, and once things went to shit there, like he totally knew it would, he just went back to the travelling mercenery thing.

He's not at all happy about being sent to Zandalar. He thinks the Zandalari are dicks for watching the Drakkari empire go to shit and end up eating their own gods, but never ever stepping in to help, just hiding in their protected little questhub and documenting it (I, too, am pretty salty about this). Like on the one hand he's shitty the Zandalari didn't stop him helping to wreck the Drakkari and drive them to eat their own gods, but on the other hand he's probably kind of proud of himself that they didn't and probably couldn't stop him. Go figure.

Uhh what else. He's got zero connection to the loa or any of the religion he had while alive, because in undeath he's completely beyond it and trolls in lore are supposed to be quite horrified and upset by undeath in a much deeper spiritual way than other races. He'd probably like to fight Bwonsamdi. He wouldn't win. He likes to imagine he would, though, or that at least he'd give the guy a run for his money.

He is a very tired, grumpy old lion past his prime but drifting unable to change or progress for better or worse in undeath, and I love him and really wish I could RP him since this expansion is perfect for him.

#askbox replies #OC: Jinzel #sorry for the text wall guys #I just love him a lot #and I hardly ever get asks like this #look at me go #jacobdcheshyre

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the-lady-bryan · 4 years

Text

Harry Potter/Farscape crossover idea?

still going through my ideas/wips folders. this is in the “wtf meds” folder which means 2 things. 1 - i was fucked up on my meds when i came up with/wrote it. 2 - because of this i don’t know where the fuck the idea was going.

also, i might have already posted this somewhere so if it seems familiar, there’s your reason.

so enjoy.

-----------

Harry had stopped believing in coincidence centuries ago.

But he digresses.

To survive in this crazy universe he'd had to adapt and unfortunately that meant kill or be killed.

Harry had come to terms with the blood on his hands a long time ago.

And now he was being transferred from his comfortable cell on some planet to a prison ship. Oh joy of joys.

Another eighty years later....

They left him alone mostly unless they transferred other prisoners off the ship and he was all that was left.

They'd killed him a few times, but they didn't realize it. He'd healed and awoken too quickly for them to notice.... But someone did. He was sure of it. He just couldn't quite figure out who...

Harry looked up from his liquid meal, the straw still stuck in the hole of his muzzle that allowed him to drink and "eat" when he heard the guards outside his door. Curious, he silently aske Moya what was happening as a blue woman was taken past his cell. A new prisoner. A Delvian, Moya had said. Harry was just grateful the new prisoner wasn't another goddamn Hynerian. Horrible little bastards reminded him of horrifying mix of Mundungus Fletcher and Draco Malfoy. Not something he liked to imagine. But at least she should be much more pleasant company than Rygel.

He found he liked the Delvian. Her chanting was very soothing. Moya and her Pilot seemed to like it very much as well.

Harry was woken by the roars of a tenticle faced beast of a man? He thought it was a man at least... when they brought the Luxan on board. With the muzzle on though, he could hardly say anything to anyone other than Moya and Pilot. And that was only because whatever it was they did, it was similar enough to legillimency that he basically said fuck it, why not. Otherwise, he'd have gone crazy long before then.

And then... one day, he woke to sirens and the ship jarring about and oh dear heavens that's laser fire isn't it?

"Don't just sit there! Come on!" Oh it was that horrible muppet thing again. Harry just stared at him in annoyance before the blue woman ran past and it dawned on him... Oh, it's a prison break.

"You're speaking English. That's English! My translator microbes things not translating you! That is the god damn Queen's English!"

"Of course I'm speaking bloody English! I'm from bloody England you fucking yank!"

"you said fuck! Not.... You have no idea how good it is to see another human!"

"I can assume you're from Earth, Mr..."

"Crihton. John Crihton. Astronaut."

"Harry Potter. Wiz-"

"The Master of Death!" - The Hynerian.

"Well I was going to say Wizard but I suppose that works just as well."

"Peacekeeper legends claim you can kill a man with just two words. Is that true?"

"Wait a minute..... A wizard. Named Harry Potter. You've got to be kidding me! Next you'll be telling me you ride around chasing a little flying ball on a broomstick."

"you know about Quidditch? Tell me, Mr. Critchton, are there any wizards or witches on Earth still? What year even is this by your calendar?"

"Dear god he honestly thinks he's a wizard..."

"what did I say?"

Then a few days later, after Harry's saved Criton's life, the man finds him sitting and staring out a porthole, floating a cup in front of him with just a wiggle of his fingers with a fond smile on his face. "There's these... books. Kids books, back on Earth. My friends kid was obsessed with 'em. Got on the pre-order list at the bookstore near the base so he could get the third book the day it comes out for her birthday." "Why are you telling me this, Mr. Critchon?" "The first book is called Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone. The second one that came out last year was called Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets." And at this, Harry closes his eyes and sighs. "And what was the third book to be called? Did you know?" "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Did you really kill a giant fucking snake with just a hat, a bird, and a sword?" "If I told you yes?" "What kind of world do you come from where twelve year olds are expected to know how to fight a giant fucking snake?" "It was over sixty feet long. Built like a brick shithouse. And for some reason facing off against that with a magic bird, magic hat, and a magic sword was... according to my senile headmaster, a good way to build character."

This starts a sort of ritual between the two not-the-same-earth-lings. Critchon knows all about the first two books because his friend's kid is fucking obsessed with them and so Harry gives him a first person "this is how shit went down" and "this is honestly what i was thinking at the time" and "yes, with my bare hands, i murdered a man at eleven and nobody thought to send me to a fucking therapist. It was all "here's some bloody candy, Harry. Don't ask questions. Also here's house points in return for killing a man at the tender age of 11." That should have been our first clue that Albus too many fucking names Dumbledore was crazier than goddamn Voldemort ever thought of being."

And when Critchon is captured and tortured with the aurora chair, Harry's there for him in equal measure as Zhaan. And he never asks him about it, but he's just like "Bro. I got your back. You ever need to scream at someone about it, you come to me. We can compare scary pale faced black wearning nightmare men any time." And when Harry finds out that his new best bro has a clone of Scorpius in his head, he starts teaching him occlumency techniques because he's like "even without magic, this shit is damn helpful. Oh, and if you ever find yourself kind-of posessed by the bastard - hey, don't look at me like that John I don't make the rules. This shit just happens when you've got someone else living in your head. Trust me. Remember what I told you about that fucking scar of mine? Right. So listen. You ever get posessed, you want me to, uh, off you? I mean, I don't want to. But I will if I have to. Sometimes if you die for a bit, it helps reset shit." "I'm not immortal harry! I can't just reset my brain like some fucking wizard!" "There! That anger! Hang onto that. Trust me. It'll help if you ever get posessed."

And of fucking course when he's posessed by Scorpius Harry's like "I know that's you, you fucking asshole. Let go of my best bro or I will fucking gut you like a fish." "no you won't. You kill me, your kill John." "that's right and i already had this conversation with him. I'm sure you were there for it, too. You've got 24 arns or the real you is going to get a rather nasty visitor after I forcibly rip that chip out of Johnny's head and fry your ass so nobody gets to have the wormhole tech in there. You understand me, lizard breath?"

#harry potter au #farscape au #harry potter crossover #farscape crossover #harry potter/farscape

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