#varian being a little shit who wants to fight god at all times

[aziraphalesbookkeeper]

me: hey what about a team awesome tlou au--

me to me: 

#YOU DONT GET IT #IT WORKS SO WELL #eugene being a jaded loner afraid of attachment #varian being a little shit who wants to fight god at all times #the found family of it all #i cannot express in words how feral this concept makes me #esp since that last ep #'i fail in my sleep' GOODBYE #so many of my darlings would have to die in this 'verse idk if i could do that #nfdnfdnd apolocypse aus go brrrr #no one talk to me about this i'm gonna be so abnormal

[exist101]

SOME SYMBIOTE POPTROPICA AU LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOO

Headcanons under the cut.

Credits to @thehyperrequiem for making me lose my shit for this concept.

The symbiotes were on the ship that became known as Atlantis

All of the villains met there symbiotes fairly young, that's why Zeus had to be so careful with extracting them

Mordreds symbiote, Error, loved their new host almost immediately, and Mordred was never one to shy away from a new experience, making them an instant duo

Error would tell baby Mordred about all the things they've seen, including technology

Mordred was already a bright young lad, and with the stories from Error, he was inspired to build things to make his and his towns life better. Think Varian from Rapunzel the series

As far as anyone in the kingdom knew, Mordred was always a strange child (they didn't know what autism was) but then one day he became a good deal stranger

When the crash happened, Error tried their best to keep Mordred alive, and when the aliens came to investigate the sudden crash on the moon Error lashed out and attacked them

Since Bard doesn't have a lot of his old body back, Error tends to hang out on their head instead

Captain Crawfish and his symbiote Kraken have a mutual respect and trust for each other every step of the way

When Kraken first bonded with Crawfish, they hated each other but knew that they could die without being bonded

Eventually those negative feelings went away

When Crawfish lost his leg, instead of having a peg-leg Kraken would form a leg to make up for it

Crawfish can't really control the leg and has to hope Kraken isn't going to make them trip in front of everyone

When in fights Kraken watches Crawfishes back

After getting separated from Kraken Crawfish had to get used to a peg-leg

Black Widow and her symbiote Invidia had a pretty healthy relationship

At first Invidia was planning to manipulate Widow, but they slowly found themselves caring for her

While they were at art school Invidia would try their best to get Widow to sleep, even if it means knocking her out

Invidia would sometimes pick pockets (learned it from Widow) when money was short during those times too

Invidia hated it when the other young artists where mean to Widow and offered to kill them more than once

Sometimes they grab a hot chocolate after casing a joint

Dr Hare's symbiote, Savagery, found themself in a problem

He's one of the only people on 24 Carrot who wouldn't die within a month but he also has a hard time taking care of himself

Savagery had a hard time making sure Harvey wouldn't get himself too hurt, or that he ate anything other than some popcorn, stuff like that

Savagery got really scared when the mutation happened, they didn't know what would happen to either of them or really even what was going on

Dr Hare has improved senses, but that also means he gets overwhelmed easily, so Savagery tends to block out things that are too loud or too bright

Dr Hare was the only one out of the group who realized that the symbiotes needed the happy chemical (0 clue what it's called I'm not a science major) Crawfish thinks that the symbiotes just eat brains, Bard and Error have a good relationship, and Widow lets the symbiote have chocolate when they need it

They all panicked when they first woke up without their respective symbiotes, learning that they were shortly in the posssesion of an angry god and then dumped into they ocean didn't help

The fight between the hero and Zeus looks a little different, instead of breaking the totems they had to use loud bells to get the symbiotes off of him

None of them had ever met someone else who had a symbiote like the four, and swapped stories and tricks they had learned

Dr Hare and Binary Bard are closer because both had met the others symbiote

They've asked Gretchen Grimlock for help, she's a cryptzoologist and a millionaire who has eyes everywhere

Meanwhile the symbiotes are hopping from person to person, sometimes having to share the same body

Overall everyone wants things to go back to normal again

#okay I'm done #jesus christ this is long #poptropica #poptropica au #symbiote!au #binary bard #captain crawfish #black widow #dr hare

[proudzukaangblog]

favorite character's birthdays and their zodiacs

Tobias Eaton (Divergent): December 16th, Sagittarius

Michael Afton (fnaf): May 6th, Taurus

Varian [Galanis?(au last name)] (Tangled the series): November 20th, Scorpio

Zuko(Atla): August 29th, Virgo

Aang(atla): September 23rd, Libra

Jeremy Fitzgerald: December 27th, Capricorn

Hehehehe this was fun

Most birthdays are based off actor birthdays, so

Theo james: Dec 16

(I forgot his nameeee): May 6th

Jeremy jordan: Nov 20

And so on

Jeremy is the only one whose birthday is fanmade, from b2s1

Yay

Aaaaaand incorrect quotes with the sillies

Varian: This is a very powerful artifact. You’d be messing with some forces we don’t fully understand. Tobias: That sounds like a dare to me. Varian: Oh my god.

Tobias: Just say when. Jeremy: When. Tobias: I- Tobias: Now or later? Jeremy: Oh.

Aang, excitedly: Heeyy!! Tobias: Hey, someone's excited. Zuko, deadpan: Yeah, and it's making me sick.

Zuko & Michael: accidentally set the kitchen on fire Zuko: We need an adult! Michael: Zuko, you are an adult! Zuko: We need an adultier adult! Get Tobias!

Jeremy: Ah, yes. Here we have a beautiful couple… Aang: I really care about your feelings! Zuko: I really care about YOUR feelings! Jeremy, turning their head: …and then there's the disaster couple… Tobias: YOU NEED TO PAY MORE ATTENTION TO ME INSTEAD OF BEING AT THE HOSPITAL! Varian: I WOULDN'T HAVE TO SPEND SO MUCH TIME AT THE HOSPITAL IF YOU STOPPED INSISTING ON FIGHTING EVERYONE WHO COMES WITHIN A FIVE FOOT RADIUS OF YOU!

(put this in because I couldn't get jeremike and zukaang at the same time TvT)

The Squad when asked about their earlier confession of love Michael: Yeah, you're lucky. I like you. Tobias: I'd understand if you didn't feel the same way… Jeremy: has a panic attack What confession? Zuko: winks I know, babe. You like me too. Aang: So what? Are you going to date me or not? Varian: It was a dare.

Zuko: Alright Varian, Aang. Let's go over this one more time. Zuko: If something breaks? Varian: We try to fix it before Jeremy gets home. Zuko: If it doesn't work? Aang: We blame Tobias. Tobias: Seriously guys, what the hell?!

Jeremy: What did you two do? Michael: Tobias: Jeremy: You’re not in trouble, I just need to know if I have to lie to the police again or not.

(they'd get into stupid shit together, change my mind)

Tobias: For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely. Varian, Zuko, & Aang: Okay. Tobias: If you don't want to die, give me all your money. Varian: Bold of you to aume I have money. Zuko: Bold of you to aume I don't want to die. Aang: Bold of you to a**ume I can die.

Aang: Why do you not believe that ghosts are real? Zuko: Never seen one. Aang: Okay, I mean, there’s a lot of things that you can’t see that are real. Zuko: What can’t I see? Aang: You can’t see gravity. That’s real. Zuko: Yeah, I can drop an apple. Aang: Monkey feathers.

Tobias: Varian told me to stop being immature, so I told them to get out of my fort.

Jeremy: Look, I know you think my judgement's clouded because I like Michael a little bit. Zuko, holding Jeremy's notepad: You doodled your wedding invitation. Jeremy: No, that's our joint tombstone. Zuko: My mistake.

#Tobias eaton #Michael afton #jeremy fitzgerald #varian #Zuko #Aang #Fnaf #Atla #Divergent #Tts/rta

[hebescus]

some things stay forever somehow

eyyy it’s the 4th day!

this was actually a scrap, i sent the rough version of it in the 7K discord server and they liked it??? so i just decided to fuck it, i’m taking this seriously so here we are. Enjoy this unecessarily oddly detailed lil piece.

@alistairwrites here’s my lil piece i hope you enjoy it!

—

The wind blew through his hair, the warm ambience and the crackling fire sound relaxing him as he absentmindedly leaned to his cousin’s side. Varian always loved campfires, there’s something oddly familiar about their warmth, it felt like he just belonged there, in front of the crackling fire. Campfires always gave him this odd feeling of longing, yearning, but fulfilled at the same time. And he always craves that feeling.

That’s why he was really excited when Eugene–his cousin–asked him to join a small camping event together. He knew nobody but Eugene and Rapunzel–his girlfriend. It was a college event after all, and he was still in senior high school. Plus, socializing wasn’t the reason why he came, so he didn’t bring himself to care.

So far, the first night was nice. Eugene and Rapunzel introduced him to a few of their friends and he actually really liked them. He cried laughing by Lance’s story, he had a great time discussing things with Cassandra’s critical and smart opinions, and more. Well, they were obviously different from Nuru or Yong who were his age but he had a great time with them.

“You seemed really intrigued with campfires, kid. Care to share something?” He snapped out of his daydream to find Lance sat on the ground next to him, he didn’t even realize Eugene left a minute ago. He smiled, warmth crept on his body thinking about all the feelings he felt.

“I don’t know…it just felt like I belonged here. I always want to come back, I feel satisfied to be here. But at the same time I…I long for something, there’s like something’s missing but I don’t- ah, I don’t know Lance,” he rambled. Lance gave him a nod as if a sign that he wanted Varian to continue. “I love the warmth, the noises, the ambience…I never felt better when I’m here, It’s confusing, really, I don’t even know why,”

“Hmmm, I see,” Lance answered. His eyes fixated on the burning woods a thinking expression. “I know this might be craaazy for you, but someone from my orphanage once said that if you feel some kind of familiar, longing, addicted feelings about certain something or situations, that means you have a special experience with them in your past life,”

“That sounds like a kids bedtime story if you ask me,” Varian shrugged but he immediately felt bad for being a little bit ignorant, so he corrected his words, “I mean, that’s real sweet, but-”

“Well, I’m not finished yet! They even said that you met someone that makes you feel more connected to the situation, and the longing feeling just gone, that means they were connected to that situation in the past and was important to you,” he continued. “They even called it soulmate, if you even believe in one,” Lance raised his eyebrow, a confusing look between agree or disagree with that statement. And Varian…well, he just cringed. Hard.

“Yep, I don’t like how that sounds,” Varian laughed. “But that’s just my personal opinion, I don’t really believe in that kinda stuff,” Lance hadn’t given him any clue whether he actually agreed with that statement or not, after all.

“Ah, it’s fine, really. A science based guy like you must like something logical, right?” Varian nodded and gave him a small smile before he continued. “I mean, that’s just a little thing you gotta plant in your head because who knows? Maybe it’s real, we just haven’t found out just yet,” he said with an unreadable soft expression. Eugene was not wrong when he said Lance was their dad friend. After that, someone called Lance for help and then he was alone again with his thoughts and the campfire.

“Shit- hey!” Varian’s silence was distubed by a squeal from behind him. He looked back and saw a man being strangled by a wild raccoon who looked like he was trying to steal a fish kabob from the man’s hand. He couldn’t see them clearly–thanks to the night lighting–but he could make out what’s going on. “Ey! Get off me!”

“Uh hey! You…alright?” Varian wasn’t really into the idea of talking to people that’s not introduced by Eugene or Rapunzel, but the man seemed like he needed a little help.

“Can’t you see?! This little- ugh, creature trying to steal my last kabob!” He answered while trying to balance his food and fight the raccoon off. Varian chuckled at that sight, reconsidered his childhood dream of wanting a pet raccoon.

“I think you should just give it to him,” Varian laughed.

“Are you crazy?! This is my las-” Varian cut him off by holding up a plate full of kabobs that Rapunzel gave him earlier.

“Not a big fan of fishies so…you want some?” The man grinned, quickly dropped his kabob to the ground and let the raccoon eat it as he practically ran towards the other boy.

“Oh God, yes, this is like- very good, thank you-” the man said as he snatched the plate out of Varian’s hand, immediately chewing the vegetables and sat next to the blue eyed boy.

Varian took a proper look at him as he ate. He didn’t look much older than him, he had a strong jawline and sharp looks on his face, circular glasses hung on his nose, blond hair neatly tied above his undercut, and…he looked kinda attractive for some reason? Or maybe he just liked the way that faded green sports jacket clung on his white printed tee and ripped blue jeans that complimented his long legs- and why the hell you care so much about that, Varian?

“Listen, I know I’m hot, but staring at people who’re eating is rude,” the man said with furrowed eyebrows, still chewing his food. Varian would think it’s kinda cute if he didn’t just call him rude.

“Is it though? I’m sorry then, I never saw anyone being attacked by a raccoon for a freaking kabob before,” he shrugged playfully. The older just laughed, Varian nearly thought he got a special connection with kabobs because God damn, he inhaled it.

“Well, I’ve never seen you before, hairstripe. Are you new or something?” The man asked, already on his last skewer. Varian was confused by the nickname for a bit before he realized that it’s probably from the blue streak. He dyed it two years ago and still refused to change it.

“No serious business, I just love camping- Well, actually, I’m just joining my cousin, Eugene. You know him?” he shrugged, but then he realized he haven’t introduce hims-

“Yes, of course. That means you’re…uh, what is it- ah! yes, Varitas?”

“Actually, it’s Varian,” Varian tried to not roll his eyes and let out a chuckle instead. 

“Ohh, yeah, Varian- I’m sorry. Flynn talked about you a bunch of times,”

“Flynn?”

“Yeah, that’s…kind of an inside joke nickname we gave him,” he answered, placing the empty plate on the ground. “Well, nice to meet you, freckles. I’m Hugo, your cousin’s partner in crime," 

—

The first night went very well. They kept talking to each other until it was late. Late enough that everyone who’s playing games with them at some point went back to their tents, someone even gave the leftover kabobs–luckily for Varian, it was chicken–before she headed off to her tent. The raccoon came back, Hugo reluctantly shared some vegetables with them while Varian laughed and randomly decided to name them Ruddiger, which ironically is Varian’s middle name. 

That night, Varian learned that Hugo was only a year older than him. He was a freshman, the youngest person in Eugene’s circle–they knew each other from being in the same basketball club. He also learned that Hugo majored in science, just like he wanted to be. He loved camping for the campfires just like Varian. Although, he learned much more about the older from his observation. He loves calling people with nicknames, he had this unique trait such as naming most of his stuff, he would snuggle on his jacket when the wind got chilly, he would scrunch his nose when he disagreed about something, and he was really smart. He didn’t know why he paid that much attention to the little details, but for now, all he can say is that he was indeed interested in this guy.

—

The second night rushed in. They were exhausted from all of the fun activities they did in the day with some friends. They went swimming, played a bunch of sports, they even had a little acoustic session at sunset. But at the end of the day, they would sit there in front of the campfire, Varian with his comfortable beanie and Hugo with his warm jacket.

"Today was really fun, don’t you think?” Varian asked softly. His thought ran around the events that happened that day. It gave his stomach some funny feelings. It started when Hugo gave him his shirt after swimming–no one told Varian to bring any backup clothes. He swore he saw a pink tint on his cheeks and a really soft little smile on his lips before a friend turned his attention away from the younger. Then their hand would brush against each other while trekking, occasionally interlocked them together on a steep path. He also still remembers when Hugo hugged his head and yelled at his friend for accidentally hitting Varian’s head with a volleyball. He somehow couldn’t get enough of the feeling of his fingers on his hair.

And then the little acoustic session. Oh God, he didn’t know what to feel about that. He was challenged by Cass to sing because she knew he didn’t like to sing in public. He didn’t care that much at first, but once the first line came out of his lips, Varian just lost his ability to speak. Who knew that the kabob guy he met last night had an extremely angelic voice. It was a really romantic song and the fact that Hugo kept staring at him the whole time just made his heart stop. He is in fact no head over heels for the guy he just met last night, right? 

“Yeah it is. I don’t feel like going home tomorrow,” he frowned. “I just want to be here…in the middle of whatever forest is this, by this campfire and the warmth- just doing nothing and…talking to-you. It’s nice to have a campfire company like you, hairstripe,”

Varian’s stomach went weird again and his freckled cheeks went slightly pink. But immediately fought it off with a little ‘thank you’ and changed the topic and had a whole new, endless conversation again.

One thing that he realized is that the more they talked, the warmer he got. He could feel this odd yet familiar kind of comfort and connection that somehow he only got when Hugo was around and he only knew him for one day. 

It was nearly three in the morning when one of Hugo’s friend came out of his tent, scolding them for being out so late and just initiated to extinguish the fire- for some unknown grumpy reason. 

But that didn’t stop them from talking about a random meme on Varian’s phone that got them laughing a little too loudly. Varian then started to ramble about this funny childhood story that was connected to the meme, when a rush of cold wind made his body shivers. He tried to fight it off by keeping on talking, but Hugo noticed that.

“You cold, hummingbird?” Hugo asked, starting to take off his jacket.

“A little, but it’s fine,” however, his body couldn’t lie as he tugges his short sleeves begging for some warmth.

“And you think I would believe that?” The older chuckled, shoved  his jacket to the other’s chest.

“How about you-” he was cut by Hugo’s facepalm as he T posed and showed every side of his hoodie. 

“I have layers, bean,” the blond said smugly while his hand slightly fixed the younger’s beanie. Varian smiled and put the jacket on. It was the second clothing that Hugo borrowed him but this one is definitely better than the shirt. It smelled like…Hugo. He didn’t know how to describe it, but he enjoyed it,

Maybe a little too much.

—

He decided that he didn’t want to be away from that blond boy. It was only two days but he swore he really really liked him. Yes, he finally admitted it. The second that jacket was clung on his body, he knew all the feelings just crashed together. And he was scared, because right now everything was packed and they were all ready to go home. He stared at the older’s back who’s laughing with his friends and carrying supplies to a car. He really didn’t want him to go.

Varian tugged the green jacket closer to his body, trying to memorize every warmth before he gave it back. He took a deep breath and walked towards Hugo.

“Uh, Hugh,” he called nervously.

“Oh, hey there, hairstripe. Need help with something?”

“Umm, no, I just want to say thank you…for these past two days, I really, really enjoyed it. It’s been nice to know you,” he smiled softly as his fingers started to unzip the jacket and take off the jacket. “And I guess you left your-”

“No, please keep it,” Hugo cut him off, his hand gripped the left pocket of the jacket and halted the younger’s move. “Olivia looks good on you,” Oh, did he mention that his favorite jacket was named 'Olivia’? Because Varian thought it was adorable. 

He was about to thank him when the older stepped closer and pecked his lips softly, leaving him absolutely breathless and flustered.

“See you later, goggles,” Hugo smiled, walking away from Varian and approached his friends. He had so many thoughts but the last nickname was kind of confusing. He called him sweet cheeks, blue, hairstripe, freckles, shortstack, bean, hummingbird, but where did goggles come from? It was weirdly…familiar. It was the same weird feelings with the sudden connection he got with that boy. 

He stayed silent on the road. Thinking about that handsome prick who stole his heart just like that, thinking about his lips on his own and how it should be longer than just a single peck, thinking about their connections, his weird last nickname…his head just screamed 'Hugo, Hugo, Hugo’ and he loved it. He loved every single thought about him.

Once he got home, he quickly greeted his dad and changed his clothes. He was about to hang the jacket to the back of his door when a piece of paper fell from the left pocket.

'xxx-xxx-xxxx,

Would you mind for another talk, sweet cheeks?

Love, Hugh’

He smiled at the paper like he never smiled before then he jumped around his room and quickly grabbed his phone. One thing he realized when he was typing the number; the second he laid his eyes on Hugo, the longing feeling of the campfire just gone, replaced by a satisfied, fulfilled warmth and connection that made the campfire felt better and better when he was around.

Guess Lance’s little story wasn’t a bedtime fairytale anymore.

—

The air was cold, but the fire warmed their body as they leaned on each other’s side. Nuru and Yong were fast asleep in their tents, tired from the long day of journey plus the challenging trial.

“Hugh,” the younger called, intertwining his hand with Hugo’s, today’s event brought their feelings together and they could never be more grateful. “If you can keep a moment forever with you. What would it be?”

“Forever?”

“Yeah, forever,”

“It’s pretty simple actually,” the older answered with such sweetness in his voice. “It would be now,”

“Uh…what do you mean by 'now’?” Hugo laughed at his lover’s obliviousness.

“To be here with you…in the middle of whatever forest is this, by this campfire and its warmth- just doing nothing and…talking to-you. It’s really lucky of me to have a company like you, hairstripe,” he answered softly.

“That’s…what I want to be kept forever too, even if we have another life I want this kind of moment to stay,” he slightly cringed at his sudden sappiness but he was too in love to care. “I love you,” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss the older.

“I love you too, goggles”

#varigo #varigo appreciation week #varigo week 2020 #alchemy boyfriends #varian the alchemist #tts varian #hugo the human #tts hugo #tangled the series #varian and the 7 kingdoms #varian and the seven kingdoms #vat7k #vatsk #varigo fic #fic #my fic #my writings

[fletchphoenix]

Infatuated With The Idea Of Us

Hugo has got a massive crush on one certain alchemist - but will he admit it? ;)

Heya - i hope you enjoy this! I kinda got the inspo out of nowhere and my brain went “write that down, wrITE THAT DOWN-” so here we are! Once again, thank you for your support and onwards we go!

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

  Hugo was completely screwed.

  He knew that much already. The raven haired boy had taken up all of his thoughts at this point and he never wanted the other to leave them either. It got to the point where he simply couldn’t focus properly when he was in his presence - a flush that was way too familiar repeatedly rising to his cheeks whenever he received a compliment.

  He didn’t get it - the random infatuation with Varian that made him act like a goddamn teenager with a massive crush. It made him feel so embarrassed that he actively tried to avoid the other boy whenever he could, because it was such a massive problem in his eyes. His whole reason for being there was because he was going to betray them, but how could he not fall for the boy whose eyes literally looked like they had constellations in them? How could he not when Varian was the only person who believed he could be better than he actually was?

  However...he was sure that the other boy had a girlfriend. It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest. The boy’s presence, looks and personality were all so intoxicating and perfect that he just knew some lucky girl had already confessed their love for him and Varian could’ve had literally any girl he wanted if he so much as breathed in their direction. 

  So he took the moments they had together. The moments they spent in their makeshift lab tent working together on some goo bombs (one of Varian’s inventions that had honestly really impressed Hugo with how effective it was in battle) or little improvements to Olivia. Little moments spent laughing by the campfire with their shoulders bumping together and shaking in laughter. Varian’s laugh was just so damn infectious, with little snorts regularly escaping his lips and his eyes scrunching shut in pure joy. It was cute. Very cute.

  Hugo hated it.

  Silently, he looked at Varian who was currently leaning over some random glowing solution in a test tube, a purple hue reflecting onto his face and defining the beautiful freckles that dotted his face. Yep. Definitely had a girlfriend. Sure, he hadn’t asked him before...so maybe now was his chance? Maybe he could just reach over and cup the other boy’s cheek, whisper him a few sweet nothings and place a kiss to those beautiful, rosy lips. Maybe he could just ask him if he did or didn’t like Hugo or if he had a partner.

  Nope. That would be absolutely weird and make the other more uncomfortable than he already was at this point in all honesty. He was avoiding Varian wherever they went and besides, it would ruin the whole team dynamic if he did. Their friendship which they’d spent so long trying to develop would be gone in a matter of a few words. So he shuffled away. Shuffled away and gave up the chance he’d been given by the universe.

  Well, he found out VERY fast that his thoughts were right. 

  It was some girl called Lilith that they’d met in Galcrest. Of course they were a cute couple, but...my god, he should’ve taken a chance in the lab tent that day. His stomach churned whenever he saw the pair together, him mentally deciding to put up more walls, hiding how he truly felt even though he wished it were him with the younger alchemist instead of that...girl. Instead of confessing his feelings, he spent the time mourning a relationship he’d never had. A romance he longed for, but never came into reality, and it sucked so so much. Every time the pair kissed, Hugo couldn’t help but entertain the thought that it should have been him, not her. Not some random girl, but alas, he suppressed it and kept on going.

  So of course he couldn’t bring himself to even try feigning sadness after Varian and Lilith inevitably ended their relationship. There seemed to be no bad blood between the two, them both mutually agreeing they weren’t the best match for each other, but it didn’t stop Nuru and Yong from being sympathetic and comforting the other alchemist. Hugo, on the other hand, silently celebrated the breakup of the pair. Now he had a chance - an opening! He could take the boy by the hand and pull him close to his chest, placing a kiss to his lips in a wordless confession of his feelings towards the other. They’d be happy.

  But Corona and, more importantly, Donella’s deadline were three weeks away. Three weeks left with his companions he’d grown so used to after so long spent together - three weeks left of Varian. He’d almost forgotten after his biweekly check-ins with Cyrus changed to monthly, which then stopped altogether considering the irregular travel patterns the group had experienced. He knew it was dumb but he silently prayed that Donella would forget. That she’d call off this whole mission and he would be free to do whatever. He didn’t want to admit it but...

  He didn’t want this to end. 

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

  He hadn’t anticipated this was how he’d confess to Varian, but here he was - getting beaten the shit out of by the boy he adored as his body was controlled like some marionette by his mother that, with no effort, slammed Hugo back into some shelves and choked him. The world around him turned fuzzy as those three fateful words left his lips, the hands around his throat gripping tighter and tighter and bitter eyes glowed with a sickly green colour, not like their previous azure blue. 

  “I love you, Varian. Please. Fight this.” He managed to struggle out, his vision and grip on the world slipping as he began to pass out. He knew it was a cheap tactic to try, especially right after he’d betrayed the boy currently choking him, but he had to try it at least. He didn’t care if it wasn’t reciprocated by the other. He didn’t care if the other boy wanted him completely out of his life or wanted him sent to jail for the longest time he could. He just wanted to see those beautiful blues again. With one tighter squeeze, he lost his consciousness and slipped into a world of black, all noises and sounds fading away.

  It definitely came as a surprise when he awoke with his head in Varian’s lap, a tearful smile on his face. Ah, there they were. Those beautiful blue eyes that he’d missed so much. “Varian-” he whispered huskily, struggling to sit up before the other boy shushed him and took his hands in his. Hands that no longer donned gloves. In fact, it had only just registered in his brain that neither of them had their gloves or goggles on at his point, most likely lost in the altercation only a few minutes ago. 

  “Hey. Hey don’t. Your voice is too weak.” the raven haired boy reminded him, gesturing to his neck where Hugo was sure he had a nasty bruise. Varian was...seriously strong if you ignored his scrawny frame. “But..Hugo. I love you too. I have for a while. I was just waiting for you.” he continued, Hugo’s jaw dropping.  

  Ah. So he really had missed the signals hadn’t he. Now it all seemed so obvious - the times they’d go out together and get lunch with just them, the little shuffles closer as they sat by the campfire on a night...wow, he really was a dumbass. “Oh fuck.” he could help but say, his voice cracking and straining as he winced at the pain residing on his throat. Varian, however, merely chuckled before he slowly moved in to press his lips against the other boy’s with a hand moving to rest in Hugo’s blonde locks. 

  It was perfect, and Hugo really was screwed. He was absolutely infatuated with Varian, but...Varian was infatuated with him too. Not Cass, not Lilith. Just Hugo - and that was all that mattered as they sat on the marble floor of the library in each other’s arms. They could wait a few minutes before they left. They both finally found what they were looking for since the beginning. Purpose. And they found it in each other.

#varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian x hugo #varian tangled #tangled varian #hugo tangled #tangled hugo #alchemy boyfriends

[varian-and-the-seven-skies]

Cor Meum | Chapter Two: Pieces Set, Start

Synopsis: In a world of floating cities and steamships, Captain Rapunzel runs the fastest ship in all the skies. But this rowdy crew is not without its secrets—or its treasures— and Hugo, newly-hired, is ready to discover them all. Now if only Varian, the whip-smart lead engineer, would get out of his way.

A TTS & 7k AU of epic proportions, featuring cool fight scenes, steampunk machinery, and an inevitable romance. Written by @littlemisslol-fic and @izaswritings.

Notes: Thanks so much for all your guys’ support for this new fic! Your comments were a joy to read, and we’re so excited that you guys are excited! We have a whole lot in store for y’all— we hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: There is mild reference to implied child abuse—nothing explicit or graphic, but please be wary! If there’s anything in this chapter you think we missed, let us know and we’ll add the warning up here.

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AO3 Link is here!

Fic Playlist can be found here!

Chapter One can be found here!

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Chapter Two: Pieces Set, Start

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Standing in the burning midday sun, hand half-shading his eyes, Hugo stares up into the shadow of the Aphelion and thinks: This is too easy.

He almost feels bad about it, honestly. Like stealing candy from a kid—not that it’s going to stop Hugo from robbing them blind, blah blah blah should have held onto it better—but still. The fact remains that this will be painfully easy. It’s been maybe two hours since he set foot in Corona, and he’s already been hired and secured a place on the ship. Fastest infiltration he’s ever done.

“She’s perfect,” he says, with a smile that maybe shows a bit too much teeth. Oh, well. Hugo’s probably fine. What does this kid—Var-something, Varitas, Varian?—know of threats and dangers anyway? The cotton-weave shirt, the brass cuff bracers, the worn work-pants and even the shine of his boots; given all that plus the oil and grease streaking his face, and the way he barely even notices, Hugo is almost positive that this kid has never even stepped three feet outside of a workroom.

Hugo doesn’t have a good opinion of this kid’s instincts, either. After all, it’s taken everything Hugo has not to laugh in his face from the moment he got hired, pint-size here being his new ‘boss’ or no, and the other teen hasn’t even noticed.

“So?” Hugo says. “Do I get the grand tour?”

Varian (Hugo is, like, 85% sure it’s Varian) doesn’t react. He seems distracted, staring hard at the ground with a furrow to his brow. He jumps at the sound of Hugo’s voice, and shakes his head hard as if to chase away his own thoughts. At his feet, that creepy little rodent automaton chases circles around them. “What? Oh. Um, yeah. If you want.” He gestures, listless. “It’s, uh… just up the ramp.”

Hugo eyes him, just a bit—where’d the fire go? The sass? The really annoying attitude?—but he doesn’t actually care, in hindsight, so he shrugs and dismisses it, heading up for the ship ramp. The closer he gets, the more impressive the ship looks: Hugo hadn’t been lying, at least, when he’d called her perfect. She’s a mish-mash of colorful cloth-weave and metalwork, and even from here Hugo can tell she’s a labor of love. The Aphelion is… beautiful isn’t a strong enough word for what she is. Stunning, maybe. Ethereal is closer. He can’t even imagine what the work inside looks like. What sort of pipe system do they use? What model are the engines?

By the Maker, Hugo is almost excited.

He just barely keeps from bouncing on his feet—he’s not a child, he knows how to control himself—and when he reaches the deck, he takes a moment to step out and turn around, taking it all in. It's huge, wide open and two-tiered, with heavy metal chains and cables of thick braided wire trailing up to the sails and envelope high above. The railing is a mix of shiny brass and dark, reddish wood; the whole deck is varnished with a nice coat of gloss that keeps the wooden planks waterproofed even through the heaviest of storms. Hugo slams his foot down, just to be sure, and—yep. That heavy thunk tells him all he needs to know. No leaky roofs on this ship, no sir.

Gods above, she’s fucking gorgeous. Hugo might be a little bit starstruck.

“Where to first?” he calls back, still staring up at the sails. Is that embroidery? Holy shit, it totally is. This ship is ridiculous, and Hugo hasn’t even seen the inside yet. “Engines? Captain’s quarters?” A thought strikes him. He keeps his voice casual. “Cargo hold?”

He can hear Varian step up behind him, still quiet. “Well,” the other says, a little dryly. He holds out one arm, and that raccoon automaton of his runs one last time around his feet and then jumps up on his shoulder. Varian rubs at its ears. “I have to find Yong, and you’re stuck with me, so… probably going to start with the library and work our way from there.”

Hugo clicks his tongue, disappointed, but knows better than to argue. He’ll see it all eventually, he knows, and has to bite back another mean smile at the thought. When Varian makes his way for a massive door of intricate iron,Hugo follows him.

“Yong,” he echoes to himself. “Assistant to engine-man, right?”

“Xavier.” Varian looks up at him, half-hidden in the shadows of the sails, his eyes flashing bright and burning. “Yong is— fire prone, so it works out pretty well for him. You’ll see.” He scowls. “And learn people’s names, would you?”

“Hm.” Hugo makes a show of thinking about it. Leans back on his heels, resting his chin in his hands, humming—and then grins. “No.”

“You—!”

“Varian!”

Varian’s eyes snap away from Hugo, and he’s almost sad to see them go. Hugo looks towards where the voice had come from, seeing a younger teenager standing in front of them with her hands on her hips. She’s tall, taller than Varian even which is hilarious. Her curly black hair ripples in the gentle breeze of the dockyard, pulled up in a perfect little up-do that Hugo can already tell takes her way too long in the morning to perfect. She’s got dark skin and amber eyes, and she’s fixing them both with a scrutinizing look, mouth pulling into a low frown when she notices Hugo. She’s wearing a purple tunic cinched tight around her waist by multiple brass-buckle belts, a sash of dark brown silk tied overtop, and dark leggings that look almost black in the sunlight. Her little heeled boots are purple as well—Hugo can sense a bit of a theme with her—and they click against the polished deck as she impatiently taps her foot.

“Nuru!” Varian says, ignoring her pointed glare. “Haven’t seen Yong by any chance, have you?”

“Afraid not,” she says, eyes flicking from Varian to Hugo. Hugo can’t help but feel the need to size her up, maybe due to the suspicious look in her amber eyes. It’s obvious she doesn’t trust him; if Hugo wasn’t absolutely certain his true identity was still secret he might even feel nervous. Ah, well— something to work on.

She finally tears her gaze away from scrutinizing Hugo, looking to Varian once again. “Why, are you looking for him?”

“Xavier is—” Varian shrugs. That creepy little automaton on his shoulder makes a mechanical chitter, a puff of steam fluffing out from between the mismatched plating making up its body. Varian doesn’t acknowledge it, his voice strong over the steam. “—and I’m giving our new junior engineer here a quick tour while I look for him.”

The title boils Hugo’s blood, it really does, especially in the self-satisfied way Varian says it. It’s like an insult, this idea that this pipsqueak is suddenly better just because he has some fancy position handed to him by his beloved Captain. As if that makes the fact that Hugo is older, smarter, and better than him null and void. Honestly, infuriating, but Hugo grits his teeth and bears it. Once this is over, once the target’s acquired and the money’s made, Hugo’ll just pitch the annoying little shit off the edge of the ship and watch him fall. It’ll be like a present to himself, a reward for a heist well heist-ed.

Hugo’s so wrapped up in the delightful image of Varian screaming as he’s tossed over the rails of the top deck, he nearly misses the conversation continuing on in front of him.

“Are you going to introduce us, then?” Nuru says primly. Her glare flicks back to Hugo, who straightens his spine a little under the scrutiny. Something in her makes Hugo wary; he’ll have to keep an eye on her.

“Oh!” Varian shakes his head. “Duh, obviously. Nuru, this is Hugo, Rapunzel’s new hire for the junior engineer position.” At least this time Varian doesn’t say the title in a way that makes Hugo want to punch him. “Hugo, this is Nuru, our assistant navigator. She’s usually up on the bridge, but you’ll see her around. Aphelion isn’t that big a ship, after all.”

Understatement of the year, really. The Aphelion is minuscule when compared to basically every other ship in port. Just a tiny trading ship, small and unassuming. Kinda like the brat who built it, Hugo snickers to himself. She might be a well made, ethereally stunning machine, but she’s small. Fast too, from what Hugo’s heard. Fast enough to outrun a band of pirates, even—

“A pleasure.” Nuru’s nose wrinkles in a way that makes it obvious this is anything but. Hugo schools his face into a delighted—it’s always so much fun making new friends—and locks eyes with her in a challenge.

“I’m sure it is,” Hugo smirks. Nuru doesn’t back down, the two of them glaring over Varian’s head. From the corner of his eye, he can see Varian scowl at being ignored, before the younger boy bodily shoves his way between them.

“Okay, enough of that,” Varian says, putting a hand out to either side, pushing Hugo and Nuru apart. “We’re all going to have to get along if we’re going to be stuck together for six months, right? Can we at least try to be civil?”

Hugo wants to retort with the obvious fact that Varian has been nothing but borderline hostile since they met, but Nuru speaks before he can, taking the stage with ease. She nods once, and steps back, almost diplomatic.

“Of course,” she says, giving Hugo one last once-over before turning back to Varian. “Have you tried the dining hall for Yong yet? Lance said he was making ginger molasses cookies, and I think Eugene was trying to rope some people into helping him steal some.”

Varian nods in thought, already moving forward. “Good enough place to start, I suppose.” He gestures for Hugo to follow, and they walk together across the polished deck of the ship, towards the back end where a large portion of the deck raises up into a second level. A large door of iron and brass stands centered on the wall, twin staircases spiraling up on either side. It’s embossed with faint carvings, suns and moons and the occasional star, all winding around a large, interlocking wheel made of solid brass in the very center. The whole thing almost looks like a square bank vault door. It’s certainly over the top, in Hugo’s humble opinion, but it’s also becoming increasingly obvious that the Aphelion, and the crew that sails her, are decidedly over the top in basically everything they do.

Ruddiger slips off Varian’s shoulders, the little automaton chittering in excitement as it hits the polished deck. The raccoon is gone in a second, scaling up one of the large chains with its weird little metal claws. It looks down on them with neon green eyes, the aperture clicking open and closed as if it were blinking. By the Maker that thing’s creepy; Hugo hates it on principle.

Varian grunts as he grabs the wheel, turning it with no small amount of effort. The spinning wheel retracts a series of pistons, a small plume of steam puffing out as the door swings open, revealing a long hallway made of the same polished wood as the deck. Large copper lights line the hallway, emitting a cheery glow that bounces off the glittering pipes of metal tucked away near the ceiling, running through the Aphelion like veins through a body. Hugo could almost call it homey, dare he say quaint, with a maroon carpet running down the length of the floor, and redwood walls lined with strips of warm brass.

It seems Aphelion is just as immaculate on the inside as she is on the outside. Hugo can’t help but grin. There’s nothing better than a ship that’s obviously been loved from her very conception.

Varian leads him on through the narrow halls, deeper into the labyrinth of the ship, roughly gesturing to the occasional doorway. “Library,” he says, pointing to a set of double doors, not faltering a single step.

“Crow’s nest.” An iron spiral staircase, spinning up into the ceiling above.

“Navigation room,” Nuru butts in, gesturing to another door. Varian smiles at that, nods.

“Navigation room,” he repeats, as they reach the end of the hallway. There’s another door like the one outside, with the same locking mechanism. Varian turns that one as well, and the first thing Hugo registers when the door opens is heat. Both Nuru and Varian continue like there’s nothing wrong, Hugo forced to follow or else get left behind. Through the door lies a metal catwalk, level with the wooden floor. 

The ground, however, dips right away, the catwalk hovering at least three stories high as it crosses the length of the large room. In the very center is a large main engine, quiet for now, but Hugo knows that once Aphelion takes flight it’ll be near deafening. It’s so big Hugo has to crane back his neck to see the top of it, surrounded by a string of metal scaffolding, catwalks and ladders and stairs, an intricate mess of pathways. The heart of the Aphelion is a large monstrosity of iron and brass, a mess of metal panels and pipes, dials and gauges, all covered in the slightest sheen of grease. It’s obvious the heart has been well loved, shined clean and immaculate, but she’s a working thing. There’s dust in her corners, grease and oil in all the little nooks and crannies, dents in her panels and places where her casing is mismatched.

She’s the most beautiful thing Hugo’s ever seen.

The room below them is a mess of pipework and wires, weaving down through the many catwalks spider-webbing the large space. They cluster and split at random, and for a second Hugo’s truly shocked. He’s seen main engine rooms before, but never one so… busy. Hugo can’t help but feel awed at seeing an honestly perfect machine, one designed from the ground up with love and dedication.

Varian strides forwards into the room with the confidence of a man three times his age, and Hugo follows slowly, almost dazed.

“Main engine room,” Varian says with an air of pride, his voice echoing against the metal walls.

Hugo finds himself following in their footsteps, sandwiched between Varian and Nuru. He doesn’t get the time he’d like to stand and stare; the tour must go on, it seems. The engine block is in the direct middle of the Aphelion, from the looks of it. Across the catwalk they go through another iron door and Hugo once again finds himself surrounded by wood panels and vaulted ceilings. It’s almost like most of the living quarters surround the engine block in a ring, an odd design for a ship. Usually engines get tucked away in the back, closest to the rudder and turbines, hidden from sight. In Aphelion, her beating heart is on display like a piece of art.

Hugo’s sad to see it go, but he knows he’ll be elbow deep in the guts of that machine soon enough. The thought is enough to tide him over, as they continue Varian’s tour.

“Cassandra’s office, for the sky guard,” Varian says, passing a large wooden door. Ah, they’re back to the list. “By invitation only.” There’s a few marks that could only be made by throwing knives that are deep in the wood. Hugo thinks that maybe it would be a good idea to avoid that particular door as they move on.

Finally they get to the end of the hall, and Hugo knows they must have walked the majority of the ship’s length by this point. They come to the final set of doors, a double wide pair of solid redwood with intricate hand-painted flowers decorating the woodwork. There’s the sound of clinking kitchenware from inside, muffled but distinct.

“Dining hall,” Varian says, with a sense of finality.

Varian pushes the door open without preamble, gesturing for the other two to follow. Nuru does so without question, and Hugo follows only a step behind. Always good to know where the food comes from, after all. Beyond the door is a large room, decorated in the same style as the rest of the living quarters of the ship; large redwood panels of wood and perfectly polished floors. A large rectangular table takes up half the space, and Hugo can count almost thirty chairs surrounding it. Small ship, small crew, Hugo supposes, though really why anyone would want to eat with their crewmates, he has no idea.

The whole back wall of the room is made of windows, from floor to ceiling. The sunset is just beginning, painting the sky a bright, cheery cherry color. Red sky at night, Hugo thinks to himself, watching as the sunset plays off the brass panels of the rudder peeking up below the large windows. Varian moves further into the dining hall, peeking over to the other side of the large space.

The other half of the room is a wide open space with couches and side tables, a sitting room of sorts. A large carpet covers the floor there, the mismatched furniture looking well worn but comfortable after years of use; it’s the kind of place where one could sit to read a book and accidentally fall asleep. A large galley window is beyond that, embedded into the wall. Hugo can see the kitchen through it, the sounds of clattering pots and pans coming from within. He logs that information for later, just in case.

Large pillars of iron support the high ceiling, the paneling almost seeming to curve, and when Hugo looks straight up he can see a perfect dome of glass in the center of the roof, held up by large iron trusses in the ceiling. The fading sunlight streams through it, bright and cheery, casting the whole room in a warm and reddish glow.

“I guess Yong’s not here,” Varian grumbles, looking around the space with a sigh. “We’ll have to keep— hey!”

Hugo only just sees Varian get tugged behind a couch, the flash of a small hand around his wrist. Nuru lets out a small laugh, gesturing for Hugo to follow as she too disappears behind the ornate velvet backing of the couch. Hugo doesn’t do hiding behind furniture like a child, so instead he opts for leaning over from the side. He bites the inside of his cheek, seeing Varian, Nuru, and a smaller boy all giggling like a bunch of idiots, sitting on the floor without a care.

“Eugene said to wait for the signal,” the boy says, red eyes alight with mischief. “And then I’m supposed to cause a distraction!” With that the kid reaches into his red vest, drawing out—

Holy shit.

“Is that dynamite?” Nuru chokes out. “Yong, we told you after last time that you weren’t allowed that anymore!”

“She’s right,” Varian says, gently taking the dynamite from the kid— Yong? Hugo’s pretty sure this one’s Yong. Little pyro— Hugo likes him already. Everything from the kid’s wide smile to his wild hair, black and nearly standing on its ends as if he’s been caught in an explosion, is eye-catching. He’s short, laughably so, shaped like a little bowling ball with all that baby fat. He can’t be older than fourteen, Hugo thinks— just an infant, really. His big eyes are red too, as vivid and bright as maraschino cherries, an oddity in Hugo’s experience. Hugo’s noticing a trend here: apparently the crew of the Aphelion all seem to be colour-coded. The kid, for example, wears a red vest and pants, only just accented by golden buttons and trim. A white shirt puffs out from under the vest, the sleeves billowing in a way that makes Hugo think it’s a hand-me-down, one the kid’s supposed to grow into. Would make sense, as it’s not like there’s many places to buy clothes for a growing boy while out in the open space between the cities.

Varian’s hands are gentle as he takes the stick of dynamite off the kid, holding it out of reach.

“There are better ways to make a distraction, ” Varian says with a smile, reaching into his tool belt. He pulls out a small, hollow ball of glass, filled to the brim with a glowing green mixture. Yong’s eyes go wide at the sight, his chubby face splitting into a grin. The kid reaches for the ball, but Varian closes his hand around it, snatching it back. “Do you promise to go help Xavier after this?” Varian asks, fixing Yong with a warning look.

The kid nods quickly, making grabby hands towards Varian’s closed fist. “Yeah, of course!”

Varian rolls his eyes, but still hands the glass ball over. Yong snickers in glee as he holds it, the green glow lighting up his face in a way that seems almost manic. Nuru bites her lip like she wants to say something— but sighs, instead, as a quiet whistle echoes through the dining room.

All four heads snap around to look across the room. Hugo raises his eyebrows. Across the dining hall, a man is poking his head up from behind a large, wingback chair made of a dark wood. He’s handsome, Hugo will admit, in a pretty-boy kind of way. He’s got a rogue-ish kind of charm to his face, with large brown eyes and tousled brown hair. And… wait a minute.

His eyes narrow. No, there’s no mistaking him. Hugo knows this one. And how could he not? Everyone in the Seven Skies knows the wild tale of Eugene Fitzherbert, former-pirate turned to a life of good, praised for helping free the lost heir to the City of Corona…

Hugo lip curls at the thought. What a disgrace, really. Flynn Rider had been a legend, the peak of the profession, and he’d thrown it all away for sickly saccharine love.

What a fucking waste.

Eugene brightens when he sees them, probably excited to see more co-conspirators, before his eyes land on Yong. He gives the kid a thumbs up, gesturing towards the window to the kitchen. With a sudden yell, Yong lobs the ball through the window, sending it flying in a perfect arc across the room. Varian tugs Hugo down by his sleeve as it explodes in a shower of smoke and glitter, and three angry voices scream from inside the kitchen. Hugo goes willingly, ducking down behind the couch as a large man comes barreling out of the kitchen through a nearby swinging door.

“My eyes!” he cries, bringing two hands up to his glitter coated face. He’s covered head to toe in green dust and glitter, the colour making him nearly monochrome. He’s big, and Hugo’s suddenly glad he’d followed Varian behind the couch.

The big man isn’t alone. Two small girls, children almost, come sprinting out from the kitchen as well, covered in the same heavy dusting of glitter. The difference being that these two look downright furious, and they’re scanning the room in rage. Hugo shrinks down further behind the couch, just in time for the shorter one’s dark eyes to land on Yong.

Yong pauses, takes in the situation, tilts his head— then straightens, grins, and gives the girl a cheerful wave. “Hi Kiera!”

“Yong!” the girl yells, her black hair flying in a flurry around her face as she charges. The other girl, a redhead, follows right behind her, borderline snarling. Yong takes one look and then yelps, turning tail and sprinting for the double doors leading back to the hall. Hugo presses his back against the back of the couch as Yong bails, the two girls following close behind as they all rush from the room. Yong’s terrified screaming gets distant and small as he tries to escape, the sound getting progressively higher pitched until a sudden series of loud bangs echo through the halls and cut him suddenly and terrifyingly silent.

The large man finally gets the glitters off his face, revealing dark skin and brown eyes. “Girls!” he wails, giving chase as well. “Girls, please, we promised no more collateral damage!” He disappears into the hall after the children, and the doors fall shut behind him with a final and echoing slam.

There’s a beat of silence, as everyone involved in this debacle waits to see if the big man will come rushing back, but after a moment it seems safe to say he’s otherwise occupied. Crouching down next to Hugo, Varian sighs, finally rising back to his feet.

“So that was Yong, Xavier’s assistant,” he says, wincing as another crash echoes from somewhere outside the dining hall. “And Lance—the big guy—and his two daughters, Keira and Catalina. They run the kitchens.”  

Hugo doesn’t really care, but he nods to pretend he does.

“Fun bunch,” Hugo says, standing as well. Nuru looks torn, her eyes flicking between where the chaos is obviously reaching a crescendo outside, and then back to the two engineers. Varian grins and hands her the dynamite, passing it like a torch.

“Maybe you should go check on them?” Varian asks, and her face lights up in a grateful smile.

“I should,” she says. Hugo would even say her tone is nonchalant, if not for the way she seems drawn to follow the sound of chaos. Busy-body, Hugo thinks, busy, busy, busy-body, and he almost laughs as Nuru spins on her heel and follows after the sound of chaos, leaving without another word.

“Hey kid!” comes a loud voice, and Hugo groans. Right, Fitzherbert. Hugo had almost forgotten.

Varian’s face splits into a grin as the man in question sashays from the kitchen, shouldering into the room with a plate full of ginger molasses cookies in his arms. Eugene already has one cookie shoved in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously, and he tosses another to Varian. Eugene is grinning around his mouth-full of pastry, and as Hugo watches, a chunk of it slips free and splats on his shirt. Gross.

“Thanks for the help!” Eugene says, though it sounds more like fanks fer dah hemp by the time it makes it through the sugar. “Couldn’t have done it without you, kid.”

Varian laughs as he catches the food, snagging a second one when Eugene offers him the tray. With a small motion he offers one to Hugo, holding it up. Hugo eyes their ill gotten gains for a second, before shrugging and taking it. He’s never been one to turn down free food, really, even if it does come from such an irritating source. Eugene seems to notice Hugo then, eyebrow raising in question. He swallows down his big bite of pastry, gasping for a second before shaking himself and looking back to Hugo. “Ah, did you finally make a friend, kid?” he asks Varian, smirking as Varian lets out an offended noise.

“Not particularly,” Varian says, crossing his arms. He’s pouting, but when Hugo glances at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement, he’s quick to turn it into a scowl. “This is Hugo. Rapunzel hired him on as a junior engineer.”

Eugene’s brows shoot up for the sky, and he looks over to Hugo. “Really?” he says, “just like that?”

“Just like that,” Varian mutters. Eugene purses his lips in thought before shrugging and sticking a hand out to Hugo.

“Eugene Fitzherbert, helmsman,” he says with a grin. “Welcome to the crew, then. Don’t let my vertically challenged friend here scare you off, I swear we’re nice.”

“Hugo,” the blond responds, ignoring Varian’s offended noise. “And don’t worry. All he’s done is try to sass his way out of admitting I was right and he was wrong about an engine part.”

Varian boreline screams at that, the offense clawing its way out of his throat as Eugene cracks up laughing. Hugo smiles at a job well done. At least someone on this crew had a good sense of humor. The man merely ruffles Varian’s hair, moving past them with his plate of ill gotten goods.

“Make sure Yong goes to Xavier!” Varian calls after him, crossing his arms. Eugene offers a thumbs up, casually shoving another dessert in his mouth.

Varian rolls his eyes and waves Hugo forward, back into the hall. “Come on. Captain’s this way. She’ll want to talk to you before we set off.”

Hugo hums, unbothered, but behind his back his fingers tighten. The Captain. Right. Okay, then— showtime. He pulls himself taller, and sets his shoulders. He’s sold them the lie, and they’ve swallowed it, but now he has to keep it going.

There’s only one room down this end of the hall— a wide curricular door with a crossed little porthole window and a brass handle. Varian knocks twice, waits until a voice calls back, and then pushes it open. He doesn’t walk in, though, instead pressing himself back against the door and then gesturing for Hugo to go first.

Oh, so it’s like this then. Hugo grits his teeth a little and then forcefully relaxes, stepping inside. He resists the urge to shoulder-check Varian as he passes— this isn’t the time for it; there’ll be other opportunities.

The Captain’s room isn’t what Hugo expects, first stepping in. It’s smaller than Donella’s by far, almost cozy, with tapestries and scarves hanging across the ceiling and hand-painted artwork scrawling the walls from floor to ceiling. There’s a wide open window deck and small personal balcony, like Donella has, but even that is smaller than Hugo expects.

Beyond small, it’s also breezy— every window open, every door thrown wide, as if trying to make the room seem bigger than it is. Hugo can practically see the whole sky sprawling out her window, the distant horizon and even the slight glint of the copper-panel lightning shields that make attacking Corona so troublesome. A small door on the side looks like it might lead to the Captain’s personal quarters, and in the center of the room is a huge desk overflowing with paper and ink and half-open books, ship logs and journals and one bizarrely placed cookbook.

Captain Rapunzel is standing at the balcony, flipping through loose papers; when Hugo enters, she tilts her head with a smile. She’s still dressed in that fancy noble’s gown, like the filthy rich kid she is, though the shoes have made a sneaky disappearance entirely. On her shoulder sits a strange chameleon-looking automaton made of some fascinatingly reflective material, looking almost mirror-like but without the fragility of glass. A little ways away, a tall woman with curly bobbed hair and sharp eyes leans against the far wall, absently flipping a knife through her fingers.

Hugo glances between them, taking in every detail in seconds before he straightens and gives both ladies a smirk. “Captain,” he says, nodding at Rapunzel. He turns his attention on the sharp-eyed woman next to her, and forces his smile wider, giving a second jaunty nod. “Random stranger.”

The woman snorts; Rapunzel laughs aloud, one hand rising to hide her smile. “Hugo,” she says, sounding delighted. God, she’s peppier than most puppies— how on earth did she get to captain of a ship like this? “It’s good to see you again! Sorry, I’ll introduce you—this is Cassandra, leader of our sky guard force.” The woman gives a short, disinterested wave with the knife. “Cass, this is Hugo— our new hire.” She turns back to Hugo, beaming. “Have you been taking a look around? What do you think?”

“She’s lovely,” Hugo says, honest for once. None of you deserve her, he thinks, also, but that comment is better left unsaid. “Aphelion is a beautiful ship.”

“She flies like a dream, too,” Rapunzel says, with a little sigh. “Ah, I’m so happy you like her! You’ll be working closely with her, so—” She pats the wall next to her head, almost fond. “Well, it’s always good to know ship and engineer agree with each other.”

Varian snorts loudly. Hugo stills at the disrespect, shoulders going stiff and hands curling so tight his fingers ache— but all Rapunzel does is wrinkle her nose, giving the other boy a swift evil eye before turning back to Hugo with an apologetic smile. “Anyways, I just wanted to check in. I know I said you’ll be starting as a junior engineer, but unfortunately you’ll be on probation for a while before you can start properly. Aphelion’s engines and pipework can be… delicate, and we want to make sure you can handle her before we throw you into the fire.” She presses her hands together. “I hope you understand?”

Hugo wrestles with himself. Probation? He hasn’t been on probation since he was ten years old, and the demotion stings worse than that goddamn junior title. He can hear Varian snickering behind him, and that burns too— that this pipsqueak gets to deal with those burning, beautiful engines, while Hugo spends fuck-knows-how-long screwing in loose bolts? Fuck that.

But this is the Captain, her orders, her word, and Hugo thinks of Donella and the job and the payoff, and in the end he shoves his fury back in the corner of his mind, smiling wide instead.

“Of course,” he says. “Sounds… lovely.”

“Only for a little while,” Rapunzel repeats, sympathetic. The silver chameleon on her shoulder trills softly, and she runs her finger down the length of its spine almost absently. “Oh, thank you, Pascal. I almost forgot.” She looks back to Hugo and claps her hands. “Room assignments!”

“Yay,” Hugo says, dryly. He takes a breath, shaking off the disappointment about probation more firmly, and holds himself a little taller. It’s fine. The worst news is over with, anyway. Hugo doesn’t really care where he ends up; Hugo has never been picky about these sorts of things. So long as it’s quiet and he’s away from the annoying pipsqueak, Hugo won’t complain.

Behind him, Varian chants, in a very poor attempt at a low whisper: please be next to the boilers, pleaseeeee be next to the boilers, please please please—

Rapunzel’s smile grows wicked. “You’ll be in the empty room next to Varian’s.”

...Wait, what?

There’s a muffled thump as Varian dramatically falls over in shock.

“Also, the room isn’t ready yet—” Rapunzel adds with a grin, “—so tonight you’ll be sleeping on Varian’s floor.”

Hugo opens his mouth. Hugo closes his mouth. Hugo grits his teeth very hard, and reminds himself that mutiny two hours after being hired is not, unfortunately, part of the plan.

Behind Rapunzel, Cassandra is laughing so hard she’s starting to wheeze. Gods damn her.

Varian is still face-first on the floor. His answering “Fuck!” is muffled into the wood.

Rapunzel frowns at him anyway. “Language,” she says, but— holy shit. Is that a smile?

It is. They’re being mocked. By the Maker, she is laughing at them. What did Hugo do to her? He thought their first meeting went fine! What the hell!?

“Is this because I ate the last slice of pie yesterday?” Varian asks the floor. “Because I am sorry. For that. So sorry. Please have mercy.”

“Oh, c’mon, up— off the floor,” Rapunzel sighs at him, still laughing, and walks by Hugo to help drag Varian up to his feet again. The boy goes reluctantly, looking despondent. “I’m not doing this as punishment, Varian, please. He’s your assistant and you two are going to be working together very closely, so he’s your responsibility. That’s all.”

“But I—” Rapunzel gives him a look. Varian visibly deflates. “Fine, fine.”

Cassandra, Hugo notes, is grinning. He narrows his eyes. That’s all, hah, he doesn’t think so. They’re being played. Hugo can sense it.

Rapunzel draws away from Varian with one fond tuffle at the other boy’s hair, then moves back towards her desk. “That’s all I really had to say, I think… Eugene will drop off a spare blanket and pillow for you in Varian’s room, Hugo, and with luck we’ll have your lodgings prepared before tomorrow night. And… yep, that’s all! Unless you have any questions?”

“No,” Hugo says, a little stiff.

“Great! And just in time for dinner… well, I won’t keep you two.” Varian is already turning away, heading for the door without so much a salute; a moment’s pause, then Hugo reluctantly follows, unsure how to deal with this odd relationship between Captain and engineer.

“I actually hate you,” Varian says with a scowl.

Rapunzel laughs. “Save me a seat!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Wild.

They’re halfway through the door when Cassandra calls out after them. “Sleep well tonight, lovebirds!”

Hugo rolls his eyes, and he grabs for the doorknob even as Varian whips around ahead of him, face flushed and eyes wide. “Cass!” Varian shouts through the door, right in Hugo’s face. “Come on! I have STANDARDS!”

Hugo chokes on a laugh, ducking his head quick to muffle it in his arm. Rude! he thinks, almost grinning at the offended face Varian makes at his back, and then pulls the Captain’s door shut with a heavy thump.

Through the door, he can hear both Cassandra and the Captain laughing. Varian is still shouting.

Six fucking months of this. Supposedly it’ll all be worth it in the end, but…

Ugh.

Hugo squeezes his eyes shut, pinching at the bridge of his nose, and refuses to admit he’s smiling too.

Dinner that night is… interesting, to say the least. Most of the crew is taking advantage of their last night on land, so the dining hall is decidedly empty. Still, there’s enough people to call the room cosy, the lot of them lining up to receive their food. Hugo’s used to a certain system: grab your plate, get your ration, and fuck off. Easy peasy. Varian doesn’t seem to want to chat too much, but he still shows Hugo where the large stacks of plates and cutlery are so he’s not totally lost.

Hugo’s surprised when Lance dramatically unveils a spread of food across the whole of the wide window between the large room and the kitchen. He must be pulling out all the stops for the last night before they set sail, Hugo muses, watching as those before them pick and choose at random what to put on their plate. It’s odd. Usually with ships you’d be lucky to get something that wasn’t freeze dried or hard as a rock. There’s actual food here, chicken and roast vegetables, and— by the Maker is that actual, honest to god cheese? Hugo can’t help but get a little excited. Rapunzel’s money must be good for something, he guesses.

The Captain isn’t there, probably off eating in her own quarters like Captains usually do. No point in associating with the common rabble, after all. Varian scoops food onto his plate, idly passing a large spoon to Hugo when he’s done with it, the motion happening without any thought. It seems that’s how it works, Hugo scooping food of his own before he passes off the spoon to Eugene, standing behind him. This is so goddamn weird, Hugo thinks to himself as he scoops more food onto his plate. Who the hell actually eats food like this on a working vessel?

The weirdness doesn’t end there, either. The way Hugo’s used to things is simple: after you win the scramble for rations, most people tend to immediately piss off to their own isolated corners of whatever ship they’re on, hiding away to eat in peace.

The crew of the Aphelion do it differently, because of course they do. When Hugo goes to leave the room, Varian grabs him by the sleeve, dragging him over to the large table he’d noticed last time they were in the room. Yong and Nuru are already there, as are Cassandra and Xavier, and a few others Hugo doesn’t have names for yet. Not that he cares, of course, because none of them matter in the grand scheme of things anyways, and why is he bothering to remember their names again?

Varian greets them with a smile, setting his food down and taking a seat. Hugo stands awkwardly for just a beat too long, holding his plate just a little too tightly, before Varian takes pity. The younger teen kicks out the empty chair next to him, gesturing for Hugo to take a seat. He does, looking around as people fill in about a third of the chairs, the lot of them clustering around one end of it. The head spot is empty, probably because it’s so close to the wall with the way the table’s jammed into the dining room. The gentle lull of conversation takes over, only growing when Lance and his daughters join as well, once everyone’s sat down. Another oddity, the kitchen staff eating with the rest of the crew.

“I just have no idea where they went!” Lance moans sadly, “I swear I made three dozen ginger molasses cookies, but now I can only find two dozen.”

“That’s rough, bud,” Eugene says, playing with the tines on his fork. “We haven’t even taken off yet and you’ve already lost your mind.”

Yong snickers from his place across from Hugo, as does Varian to his left. Hugo has to bite his lip to keep from laughing too. He’s got a reputation to uphold, after all.

Cassandra glares at them all, and they sit up a little straighter under her stare. The giggles stop, but then she smirks. “You guys tell me if he snaps,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “I need an excuse to toss him in the brig.”

Lance makes a dramatic gasp, clutching at his heart. “You wouldn’t!” he wails, “I am a single father, and you would throw me in the brig?”

“Absolutely,” Cassandra says blandly. “And your kids would help me.”

“We totally would,” Keira pipes up from her place next to Lance. “If you’re not around, bedtime is never.”

They all let up a little as Lance begins to blubber into his dinner, wailing about ungrateful children into his peas. They muddle through a little more awkward small talk, everyone dancing around the fact that Hugo doesn’t seem keen to join the conversation, until one of the doors flies open with a loud bang.

“Sorry I’m late!” Rapunzel crows, Pascal on her shoulder. “Got lost charting some stuff for tomorrow.”

She borderline skips past the table, grabbing a plate and humming as she loads it with food from the spread. Hugo nods to himself, ah that must be what the chair at the head of the table’s for. They all watch her spin around and come towards the table, and Hugo waits to be proven correct.

Therefore, when Rapunzel sets herself down to Hugo’s left, he’s left a little confused.

What kind of Captain eats with their crew? The absurdity of it throws Hugo for a loop, the sheer oddness confusing at best. Varian snickers by Hugo’s other side, watching as Rapunzel begins to shovel food into her mouth like she’s been starving for weeks. When she breaks for air she turns to Hugo, leaning an elbow onto the polished wood of the table and balancing her chin on her hand. She looks at him with excitement, bouncing in her seat. What an actual lunatic.

“So,” she says, her grin getting wider, “how was the rest of your afternoon?”

“Fantastic,” Varian says, answering for Hugo, but Rapunzel flicks a pea at him.

“Wasn’t asking you,” she says as Varian throws another pea back. She slaps it out of midair, obviously used to this. “I was asking Hugo. So?”

“Nah, it was good,” Hugo says, trying to school his face into a smile. “Very… educational.”

“It’s a lot at first,” Rapunzel nods. “But you’ll get used to it— I promise!”

Varian snorts, but doesn’t say anything. The conversation drifts then, easy and light like they’ve been doing this for years.

Hugo realizes with a start that they probably have.

He shuffles food around on his plate, unseeing as he begins to think of a game plan. It’s obvious that he’s going to have to tweak his original idea. It seems as though skulking around like he usually does is only going to seem more than a little suspicious with such a tightly knit crew. A bit of a wrench in the engine, but nothing he can’t handle. Donella’s counting on him, after all; it wouldn’t be due to let the boss down.

Xavier seems to be going on about some legend or another, the whole table politely tuning him out. Eugene seems to be almost asleep, borderline leaning on Cassandra as he balances his chin on his hand, elbow planted firmly on the table. Hugo can see a shimmer of something on his shoulder, startling when Pascal shifts into view with the faintest glimmer of shifting colour. God what a creepy thing to make. The chameleon shaped automaton wiggles on Eugene’s shoulder before letting his tongue fly, catching Eugene right in the ear. He wakes up with a shriek, loudy screaming as he jolts upright.

The whole table erupts into laughter, even Xavier. Hugo can hear Rapunzel gasping for breath through the loud laughs, cackling at her husband’s expense. Hugo can see Varian out of the corner of his eye, the shorter boy nearly face first in his dinner as his shoulders shake with giggles. Hugo fully turns to him, ignoring Eugene’s howls about goddamn awful frogs, and sees Varian just as he snorts on his own giggles, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Hugo stares for just a second, caught up in the sight of it—

Cute.

—Oh. Oh, fuck no, he is not going there. Even if Varian isn’t half bad to look at, he’s still a certified pain in the ass, not to mention part of the crew Hugo is here to rob. No amount of sass or big, baby blue eyes will ever change that. At the end of the day, Varian’s merely an obstacle between Hugo and his prize, and there is no way Hugo is letting anything stop him. Hugo tears his eyes away from Varian, shaking himself. Think of the money, stupid, he tells himself, think of the fortune.  

The laughter dies down after a few more seconds, Eugene finally getting Pascal off his shoulder and onto the table. The little automaton scurries back to it’s master, Rapunzel scooping him up and petting along his metal back with a coo. It reminds Hugo of Varian and that stupid raccoon, the way she treats the automaton like it’s a pet. Strange.

Dinner settles into a companionable silence after that, everyone too busy stuffing their faces to really make conversation. This, Hugo can already guess, is probably the quietest they ever get on this ship. Hell, he’d even put money on it. They’re nothing if not a lively bunch, to say the least. Not really Hugo’s style of people; the whole peppy, loving-life, sappy crew that children dream to be a part of someday.

It’s disgusting, is what it is.  

Rapunzel doesn’t try to loop Hugo into any more conversations, thankfully, the Captain disappearing from dinner just as abruptly as she’d entered. “Sorry guys!” she says, borderline tossing her plate into a square bucket by the kitchen window. “Can’t stay long, lots to do before tomorrow!”

Everyone calls their goodbyes, but she’s out the door in a swish of purple fabric before many of them can even speak. Varian just laughs and gathers his own dishes, holding a hand out for Hugo’s as well. The blond stands when Varian gestures with his chin, following across the room to a strange set of three pipes, all embedded in the wall. They’re brass, blending in with the warm wood well enough that Hugo hadn’t noticed them until now.

“Forks, knives, spoons,” Varian says, gesturing to each one. He holds a fork up in display before putting it into the tube labeled forks in looping, whimsical blue-painted script. The other pipes are labeled as well, and under each label the pipes have a small metal button in the center. Once the fork is in Varian taps the button with his thumb, the tube making a little shwoop-ting noise as the fork is dropped down into it. There’s the tiniest puff of steam before a little piece of metal pops back up as Varian releases the button, blocking the pipe once again.

“I made Lance an automatic dishwasher for his birthday last year,” Varian explains, “It’s not… delicate enough for anything made of glass, but for silverware it’s great.”

Hugo snorts, his brain running a mile a minute as to how to make it work for glasses and the like before he has to stop himself. He’s not here to make friends, and he’s certainly not here to be helpful. Hugo tries the knives chute for himself, delighting as the cutlery disappears into the void below. He might have to ask Donella about getting that for their own ship, really, not that Hugo would ever give Varian the satisfaction of Hugo asking how he made it.

They’ve only just made it out of the dining hall, before Varian is nearly bowled over by a frantic man with red hair. The new guy— tall and gangly and looking one good breeze away from falling right over the edge— is the throes of panic, half-way ranting even as he grabs at Varian’s shoulders. Varian holds up his hands  and backpedals, nearly falling into Hugo, shying away from the frantic energy of the man in front of them.

“Woah, woah— Feldspar, what’s happened now?” Varian asks, not-so-subtly trying to inch away as the redhead gets closer.

“It’s water pipe eighteen!” Feldspar— Hugo doesn’t even know where to start with a name like that— crows, nearly tugging his own hair out. “It’s popped again, I don’t know what happened!”

“Again?” Varian mutters. “We’re not even in the air this time!”

Feldspar only nods, grabbing at Varian’s wrist. The short boy sighs, looking back to Hugo with a scowl. “Stay here,” he says, already letting Feldspar tug him away. “I won’t be long.”

Hugo nods, smiling and giving him a thumbs up. It’s obvious that Varian doesn’t believe the false innocence for even a second—Hugo can tell by the way his eyes narrow and Varian’s head cocks to the side—but Feldspar is already screeching about water damage and oh by the Gods it’s everywhere, and so Varian has no choice but to follow the hysterical man back to whence he came.

Hugo keeps his grin in place until they round the corner. The minute Varian loses sight of him, Hugo drops the grin like it’s wronged him, pivoting once on his heel and walking right away.

“Stay there, Hugo,” the blond mutters to himself, pitching his voice to be deliberately wheedling and annoying. “I’ll be right back... buncha bullshit.”

The halls of the Aphelion are long and winding, but nothing Hugo can’t handle. He skates his way through with ease, eventually finding his way back up to the deck. Hugo steps out from a different door than he’d come in from, this one decidedly smaller and more unassuming than the one Varian had shown him earlier this afternoon. It’s still in the vault door style Hugo’s noticed they like to use, a great iron door embedded in the wood with a spinning wheel for a handle.

Hugo slips out onto the deck as quietly as he can, cautiously closing the metal door behind him. It ghosts along on perfectly oiled hinges, silent in the inky black of the late evening. The deck is empty, save for Hugo, but he still takes his time. He needs to find where the cargo hold is, and soon—

A sudden bang comes from the dock below. Hugo drops to the polished wood of the deck on reflex, dipping down so he’s nearly pressed up against the boards. He chances moving towards the edge of the deck, peeking over the immaculate railing and down to the dockyard below.

Four large figures stand on the copper panels that make up the docks, all of them wrapping chains around… a very large something. Hugo perks up with interest when he sees it. Bingo, something in him whispers. Donella had never told him exactly what the Aphelion had been transporting, only that it was incredibly valuable. From the shady way Varian had dodged Hugo’s questioning earlier in the day, Hugo can hedge his bets: it’s the kind of thing that can make a man rich beyond their wildest dreams.

The box seems to be a containment chamber of some kind, a five foot squared box of metal panels all bolted together with perfect accuracy. There’s a single porthole of glass bolted into one of the sides, and Hugo can only justsee a neon green light filtering through… is that ice? Sure enough the window is frozen over, and Hugo can even pick out the beginnings of hoarfrost crawling up the corners of the chamber.

Puffs of frozen air seep slowly from the seams in the metal box. Liquid nitrogen, Hugo thinks to himself, sinking down a little deeper as the side of the Aphelion slides open, a great door in the outer wall of the ship. The men wrapping the containment chamber finish their work, and a metal crane extends from the guts of the Aphelion. This is pretty standard for larger pieces of cargo, of course, to bring it directly into the cargo bay from the outside, but in the dead of night? With minimal crew to get it in place?

Suspicious.

Hugo watches as the great metal box is lifted into the air, lifting off the cart the men had brought it in, the Aphelion reeling it in like a caught fish—

“Hugo?!” a frantic voice calls behind him, and Hugo whirls around, half-rising from his bannister hiding spot to see Varian, standing right behind him and looking undeniably pissed. “Hugo, you’re not supposed to be up here!”

If anything Varian looks spastic, and when he hears the commotion being made from the cargo being loaded onto the Aphelion, he outright blanches, going pale in the face. He grabs at Hugo’s sleeve and starts to pull.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Varian says, dragging Hugo away. The blond thinks about putting up a fight, but logic tells him that would end badly. Or, at least, with Hugo being fired before he can even get what he came for. He lets Varian drag him away, chancing one last look back.

He gets one last glimpse of the box, finally in the Aphelion, the doors beginning to inch quietly shut. In the next instant Varian has pulled him out of range, but the damage is already done.

Bingo, Hugo thinks again.

Varian bullies him off the deck, forcing him down into the labyrinthian hallways of the ship. “Why the hell were you up there?” Varian demands, stopping them once they are well and truly away from the deck. “You were supposed to wait for me near the dining hall, why did you wander off?”

“Got bored,” Hugo says, shrugging. Varian’s eyes narrow, as though trying to intimidate him. It’s adorable. “Needed some fresh air, goggles, is that a crime now?”

“It is when I told you to stay put,” the shorter boy snaps. “That cargo’s confidential; you weren’t supposed to know about it.”

“Need-to-know-basis?” Hugo asks with a smirk, remembering Varian’s words from earlier that afternoon. If anything, Varian’s scowl deepens, his teeth gritting just a little tighter.

“Exactly,” Varian hisses, “and you weren’t supposed to know, so you’d do well to forget everything you saw up there.”

Hugo holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Sure, goggles, can’t be that important.”

Varian huffs out a frustrated noise, and Hugo smirks. Better to feign nonchalance now that he’s been caught; if he tries to dig now Varian would be more suspicious than he already is. Varian can’t prove Hugo was snooping, and that’s enough to keep Hugo safe… in theory.

The shorter boy looks ready to punch Hugo, but he can’t, and it’s so delicious. Hugo would laugh, if he weren’t so irritated.

Varian finally settles for clenching his fist in the air with frustration, then motions for Hugo to follow him further down the hall. This is a new part of the Aphelion, one lined with doors on every side of the hallways. Varian leads Hugo to one of the doors near the end, opening it and gesturing for Hugo to follow inside.

He does, without question.

“Your room’s not done until tomorrow,” Varian mutters as they walk into a sparse bedroom. Hugo makes a face at the room: the automaton, Ruddiger or whatever, is already sitting on the bed, fast asleep. So creepy. “You’re bunking with me, like Rapunzel said.”

Yeah, Hugo knows; he hasn’t exactly forgotten that he’s going to have to share a room with this pain in the ass. He steps inside and stands still in the center of the room, hearing Varian close the door behind them.

Despite himself, his hands curl into fists, half-hidden by his sides. Irritation bubbles bitter and acidic in his chest. He knows better, he knew going in this job wouldn’t be that easy—but still. They were loading the stupid thing right in front of him, and if it weren’t for Varian, Hugo could have…!

Damn it.

He lets out a thin breath through his teeth, a low hiss— then turns and meets Varian’s narrow gaze with a bright smile. Varian looks annoyed to see it; Hugo smiles harder in retaliation. Behind his back, his fists clench. It’s been a long day, a tiring day, and Varian is the cause of most of the bullshit. Hugo is allowed to be pissed about it, okay?

“So?” Hugo says, and if it takes more effort than usual to keep his voice light, well. “Where am I sleeping?”

Varian’s expression sours at the reminder. “Right,” he mutters, and makes for the far wall, towards a small bolted dresser with shuttered doors. “Eugene should have put some blankets in here somewhere…”

The room is cozy, Hugo notes, almost absently; sparse and clean and rarely used, the bed made and sheets crisp. Something tells Hugo that Varian doesn’t spend much time here—wherever his workspace on this ship, Hugo would bet good money it’s a disorganized mess with a cot under the desk for all nighters.

Still, the room isn’t shabby—a nice size, with a dresser and side table and a wide bed. There’s a large porthole window looking out the right side of the ship, into the dockyard, and a copper lantern hangs from the ceiling like a droplet, swinging faintly with the sway of the ship. A heavy shag carpet takes up most of the floor, a dark gray turned multi-colored from past experiments. The rest of the walls are taken up by shelves, stuffed full of books and materials and spare parts. The smell of oil lingers faintly in the air. If Hugo hadn’t been so irritated, he might have even found it nice.

Instead he finds it vexing, and as Varian shakes out the extra bedding and lays it down, Hugo rakes his eyes down the walls and feels a sneer curl his lips. “Homey,” he says, mild as the weather, and makes it sound like half-an insult. “I bet it’s real fun to fix those shelves up again once one rock sends them sprawling, hm?”

“They’re locked in with magnets. My design.” Hugo scowls; Varian looks up, grinning a little. “Also, all furniture is bolted down, too, to avoid exactly that.”

It’s clever. Hugo hates it. “Lovely,” he says dryly, as unimpressed as he can make it, and wanders across the room with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His eyes catch on the dresser. There’s only one thing on it: a metallic frame with a small sepia photograph, faded and worn with time. The photo is of a young boy, obviously Varian given the matching stripe in his hair, and a man—tall and broad-shouldered with deep set eyes, smiling wide and fond at the child sitting up on his shoulders.

“Who’s that?” Hugo wonders, looking at the frame, picking it from the dresser. The magnet sticks a bit, but he pries it up pretty easy. “Daddy dearest? I don’t think we’ve been introduced. What’s he do— swab the deck?”

Varian’s voice is very quiet. “Put it down.”

Hugo looks back, mocking. “What—”

He goes silent, his mouth snapping shut. Varian isn’t even looking at him. He’s staring at the photo, pale and a little wild-eyed, hands clenched. “Put it down,” he says again, and there’s nothing in his voice at all.

Hugo’s irritation flatlines; something in his gut drops. Shit. He’s crossed a line, somewhere, without even knowing it. He puts down the photo at once, stepping back, hands raised and empty. “I didn’t mean to—”

Varian shoulders past him, dead-eyed and cold. “Good night.”

“I—”

“Good night.”

Hugo takes the hint. He edges towards his bed roll, lips pressing thin, uncomfortable. He’d just wanted to push some buttons, not—this. He’s not sure what this is, or why he feels vaguely ill. Is this guilt? Oh, shit.

Varian shucks off his coat, under the covers before Hugo can even blink. Hugo settles on his own blanket pile just as the light snaps off. It’s dark.

Hugo looks down at his hands, staring until his eyes adjust and he can see the shape of them in the dark, listening to the ragged drag of Varian’s breathing. He doesn’t move, not yet. He just sits, and listens, and watches his hands.

And he waits. Just to see. Just in case.

But Varian doesn’t speak to him again.

Hugo opens his eyes to a dark morning.

A headache pulses behind his eyelids almost at once, and Hugo grits his teeth and presses a hand against his temples. He hisses a breath between his teeth as silently as he can. He’d planned for this, when he’d finally laid down last night to sleep—there’s no better time for snooping on the ship then in the dead-hours of morning, after all—but still. He’d had a long day yesterday, and a late night, and something in him despairs at the dark sky he sees outside Varian’s window. The sun isn’t even remotely up yet.

Ughhhhhhh.

He climbs to his feet, silent as a grave, pulling up his coat and boots to take with him. He stands, listening intently for any change in Varian's breathing, and once satisfied he moves noiselessly to the door. It’s time to get to work at his actual job.

He slips out the door, and eases it closed; it clips shut with only the slightest of thumps. So far, so good. Hugo pulls on his coat as he pads his way down the hall, boots still dangling from his hands. The hallway is dead silent, and dark, only one out of every four lanterns still lit. Hugo takes his time, listening, but no one else seems to be awake yet…

No, wait. Hugo stills mid-step, eyes widening. Because there, if he strains his ears…

Footsteps, high above him.

The deck.

...What was it Varian had said, yesterday? Leaving tomorrow, and I mean tomorrow. Which means—a morning lift off.

It’s ass o’clock in the morning, and the rest of the crew has apparently chosen this to be the time to trope on back indoors. So…

Hugo closes his eyes and rubs at the bridge of his nose, tired all the way to his bones. Oh, he thinks. Fuck me.

Well. He’s awake now, no changing that, and there’s no way he’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon. Hugo scrubs his hands through his hair and kneels down to put on his boots. He won’t be able to go to any of the places he needs to check out, but he can still take a look around. And if anyone asks, he’ll just say he couldn’t sleep.

Still: so annoying.

He steps up onto the main deck already frowning, and squeezes his eyes shut at what he finds—people, not enough to be loud but definitely too many to hide from, walking silent across the ship, carrying crates and tying down final shipments. They speak in muted, hushed voices; soft laughter drifts across the deck. Far-off over the edge of the deck, he can see sparks of lightning hanging in the air, Corona’s floating shields up and running even in this early hour.  It’s still dark, but this high up Hugo can see the thin line of blue starting to band the horizon, the gold hue creeping into the distant clouds: dawn, slowly but surely on its way.

Hugo looks away, and beelines for the stairs leading up to the upper deck; if he’s going to be out here, he might as well get a view. He gets half-way up before he realizes the deck isn’t as empty as first thought—there, in the far corner, elbows resting on the railing and her eyes turned towards a slumbering Corona, is Rapunzel.

Hugo stills, preparing to back away—but it’s too late. She turns to look at him, and catches his gaze. Hugo doesn’t move.

After a long pause, Rapunzel smiles at him, something hushed in her expression. She gestures him to her, and Hugo, though reluctant, goes.

He steps up beside her, gingerly resting his elbows on the railing in a mimicry of her pose, and turns his face to the city too so he doesn’t have to look at her. He’s not sure what to make of this Captain, all things considered; she’s childish and naive and preppy, too genuinely cheerful by half, and these are all things Hugo holds in disdain. And yet, at the same time, the paradox: she is Captain of the Aphelion, the fastest ship in all seven skies, the jewel of the northern skyline. She is a legend.

He doesn’t understand her at all.

Hugo turns his face up into the wind, taking comfort from the cold. Corona is a dark blot on the slowly lightening skyline, as asleep as cities ever get, the lamplights burning a distant orange and the trains all silent. It is a dark city lit only by faint, distant dollaps of light like fireflies, but as Hugo watches, a thin band of gold haloes the highest point, the first spire of the Sun’s temple, a thin circle of sunlit glow like a crown.

The silence stretches, and Hugo shifts, a little uneasy. “What,” he says, for lack of anything better. “Homesick already?”

Rapunzel laughs quietly. “Do I look homesick?”

He glances at her from the corner of his eye and falters, because— no, maybe not homesick. Hugo doesn’t even know what that would look like. But there is something muted in her, something sad, a strange sort of melancholy as she looks out over the city.

“I don’t know,” Hugo says, and looks away, discomforted by his own honesty.

Rapunzel is quiet again. Then she sighs, soft, a heavy exhale. “No,” she says. “No, not homesick. I never really miss Corona, though I probably should.” Her smile twists, goes funny at the edges. “But no. Aphelion, this ship, she’s home to me. Corona is… just a place.”  

Hugo makes a face at that, utterly involuntary, and turns away too late. Rapunzel hums, thoughtful. “You don’t agree?”

He thins his lips, fingers curling on the railing. He shouldn’t—it’s stupid and he knows better, never antagonize a Captain, and especially not her; Hugo can’t afford an enemy this early into the game.

But he’s tired, and his head hurts, and he’s so sick of it, this goody-two-shoes crew with their sweet sayings and friendship bracelets and lack of anything resembling a sense of reality, and his fingers are digging into the wood before he can even think to stop himself.

“What’s the deal with that?” he asks, unable to keep from sounding snide. “With all that ‘the ship is home’ shit. I mean—come on.”

Rapunzel tilts her head, brow furrowing. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean— ” He gestures, expansive, to the ship, something tight and angry winding in his chest, like laughter, only cruel. Because home? The Aphelion is beautiful, yes; Donella’s ship is lovely too, in its way. But Hugo has never been so stupid as to call a ship home. Ships are fallible, breakable, and crews shift like the tides; it’s a place of commerce and trading and battle. Not home, whatever home is, whatever that sort of thing looks like. Home stays on the ground; home is just Hugo, and all the riches in the world; home is—not necessary. Not needed.

“Look, I don’t mean any offense, Captain, but—how can a ship be a home?” He scoffs, scornful, and shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “It’s a place of employment. It’s a job.”

Rapunzel is staring at him now. She’s turned away from the city entirely, looking right at him. Her eyes are pale green and sharp as glass, and all at once Hugo realizes what he’s saying, who he’s saying it to, and he clenches his jaw and braces himself and waits for the verdict. Gods, if he gets fired over this, before liftoff, just because he couldn’t resist being mouthy, Donella is going to kill him. Hugo won’t even blame her. This was such a bad idea, in hindsight, so fucking stupid—

But after a moment Rapunzel blinks, and instead of going cold, or angry, or commanding, she does the most baffling thing she’s done yet: she smiles. At Hugo, directly at him, and it is a warm smile, a fond smile, a little crooked. As if he has said something funny, instead of something cruel.  

And all she says is: “Give it some time. You’ll see.”

Hugo stares at her, utterly floored, for the first time unsure of what to say or what’s happening. And Rapunzel shakes her head, still smiling that strange, soft smile, and before Hugo can move she reaches out and pats his shoulder, once, twice, and then she takes her hand away and heads back to the stairs.

“I didn’t say it earlier, so I’ll tell it to you now, I think,” she says, face turned up to the wind. She’s smiling soft and small, and looks at him from over her shoulder. “Welcome aboard, Hugo. I really am happy to have you.”

By the time Hugo can even think to answer, she is already gone.

He stays there for a long time, just staring, not sure of what to do, or what to think about it all. For the first time in his whole life he feels—he’s not sure what this feeling is. Like being seen, or being known, like something Donella did at times, very rarely. Those brief snatches of a moment, when she’d look at him and her lips would curl into the smallest of smiles; those rare, rare times when she would reach out and ruffle his hair like he was her own. Something bizarre and strange and—

Warm.

He feels shaky. It unsettles him. He doesn’t like it—Hugo draws into himself, rubbing hard at his arms, turning back to the railing. He exhales, watching his breath mist, and shivers for a moment in the morning breeze. He—

He doesn’t know what to think.

Down in the dockyard, people are starting to shout. Dock workers are crossing to and fro around the shipyard, tossing ropes and chains, beginning to unbolt the line. The ramp up to the main deck begins a slow, laborious journey of being rolled back up for storage. The ship is waking up, getting started. He can feel the rumble of the engine starting to buzz beneath his feet with a distant hum. They’re going to fly, soon. In a few minutes’ time, they’ll be in the sky.

Hugo doesn’t move. As the blue line of the horizon turns golden with sunrise, he watches as the Aphelionslowly but surely awakens into life. The chains holding the balloon down fall first; next the fires of the engine, filling up the envelope. Muted yells are traded  across the deck, and in the distance Hugo can hear Rapunzel calling orders. The sails are hoisted tall and high; in the back of the airship, the great copper turbine starts to spin. And little by little, bit by bit, the Aphelion starts to rise.

Hugo stares down at the city, unmoving. He can see the puff of steam rising from the first morning train; the wind is starting to pick up, a comforting howl in his ears. The ship rocks beneath his feet as she settles into the wind currents, and Hugo grips tight at the railing, riding out the first fits and starts of a ship finally waking up.

And just like that, they leave Corona behind.

It takes almost no time at all to leave the dock. Even less to pass the lightning shields, those chained-linked copper panels shining bright in the sun, a loose circle around the city. After all the work it took to get here… leaving Corona takes only a moment.

As the first bit of sun crests the distant hills, Corona is already falling into silhouette. It’s beautiful. Hugo has never put much stock in cities, but… even he has to admit it. The flying city is shadowed and soft in the early morning light, outlined in shining gold, and for a moment he can truly, honestly understand why it’s named for the Sun. There is something ethereal about it. Something fragile and light like a dream, a glow that exists only now, in these in-between daybreak hours.

He watches as Corona fades away, swallowed up by the clouds, and it is only when the city is at last out of view that Hugo lets up on his grip, exhaling hard.

He bows his head over his arms, feeling a tension he didn’t know he’d had ease away from his shoulders. He laughs, a little, then remembers the Captain and her words and—that, whatever that was, and feels the smile falter and fall off his face.

He exhales into his elbows. He lifts his head, staring blankly into the clouds. What had she meant by that? You’ll see. He thinks of last night’s dinner, of Varian’s hiccuping laughter, of the way Rapunzel looked at the dawn, and—

And he thinks: Does it matter?

Does it matter what she meant? Does it matter what she wants? Does it matter that Lance has two kids and Varian snorts when he laughs; does any of it actually matter at all? Of course not. Of fucking course not. Hugo’s not here to play games or play at being their friend—he’s here for a reason, for a job, for the money at the end of the journey. Their words don’t hold any meaning. They don’t hold any meaning, not in the grand scheme of it all.

Hugo’s expression firms. His eyes narrow. His fingers curl. He shakes his head, inwardly marvelling at his own stupidity, because—seriously. What a joke. That he’s hesitated at all, that he’s wasting time on this… he knows better than that. Or, he should.

The Captain—he’s underestimated her, he thinks. He understands a little better how she came to command the ship. For a moment, despite everything, despite all logic—

Hugo shakes his head again, shakes the last echoes of that conversation away, and straightens up to his full height, yawning into one hand. Stupid, really. He knows better, he always has; at least he’s gotten one good thing out of that odd, odd conversation. He’ll have to keep an eye on the Captain after all— she’s more of a threat than he first thought, and that means… Hugo’s going to have to watch his step.

He has a job to do. He has a treasure to steal. Corona is gone and the Aphelion is in flight: six months left, now, till they touch down in the City of the Moon. Six months to plan—to prepare—to pull off the best heist this side of the northern sky.

Hugo closes his eyes, and inhales deeply, and his conviction settles hard and cold in his chest. He’s ready. He has to be. The board is set—the pieces in place—the main players chosen. Hugo versus Aphelion; Hugo versus Captain Rapunzel. Everything is as it should be. All that’s left is to play the game.

All that’s left is to win.

Hugo opens his eyes to the first dawn of many to come, and grins.

“Game on.”  

#tangled the series #varian #varian and the seven kingdoms #varian and the 7 kingdoms #hugo tangled #varigo #tts #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rta #rapunzel #varian the alchemist #eugene fitzherbert #cassandra #vat7k #fic: cor meum #chapters #chapter

[shadowphoenixrider]

Why N’Zoth should have been behind BFA’s War

Okay so I’ve been thinking this for a day or so now, and I’m gonna just dump my thoughts here.

In this essay, I’m gonna make the argument that I think N’Zoth should have been behind the war in BFA. It’s gonna be long as shit, FYI. Here we go.

It’s no secret that opinions on BFA’s story have been...mixed. Some think it’s a garbage fire, others think it’s okay but not stellar. Some bits of BFA’s story, such as Jaina’s arc I find very well done, whilst others are very...below average, must try harder.

I think the main problem is the overarching storyline running through the entire expansion. It feels very disjointed, like many self-contained narratives sort of strapped onto one another into what looks like a storyline, if you squint.

Contrast this with Legion’s story. What was the primary conceit of the expansion? The Legion’s back and we have to stop them. Great! A nice solid story maypole we can pivot events around. Everything the patches introduced tied back to this core story ideal:

Return to Karazhan: some freaky shit is going down in Medivh’s digs and we think the Legion is behind it. Stop them!

Tomb of Sargeras: Time to get to Tomb and stop the Legion from pouring in!

Argus: You know what, we need to stop the Legion Once And For All (maybe)! Time for a cataclysmic showdown on the Legion’s homeworld!

Even the Insurrection storyline held closely to the Legion storyline, since the demons had control of the city and a Titan MacGuffin we needed, so we had to help the Nightfallen boot them out.

Now, BFA has at first glance, a good premise. All-out war between the Alliance and Horde, whilst Azeroth bleeds underneath us. That seems pretty good, right? Yes, it is, but there is a problem; the status quo.

The trouble with wars, especially really big ones (like world wars), is that by their nature, they upset the status quo. The WoW status quo is both the Alliance and Horde is, in the lore’s eyes, on equal footing. Problem with this all out war is that someone’s gotta lose - but no faction can lose because that upsets the status quo.

Thus, the story has already lost its running shoes because it can’t change anything drastically at the end. There’s still got to be a Horde and an Alliance - now, Mists of Pandaria managed to end an Alliance/Horde war in a fairly convincing stalemate because of Garrosh. Since he was deposed and he was the instigator of a large portion of Bad Stuff, people could sort of understand Varian letting the Horde survive under the threat that they’d get their asses thoroughly beaten if they did anything bad again.

This did not work a second time. Why did it not work a second time?

That’ll be because Sylvanas burned down Teldrassil, which pretty much accounts to genocide. Now, Garrosh pretty much dropped Azeroth’s equivalent of a nuclear bomb on Theramore, and that was made a very big deal of, but Sylvanas decided to take a leaf from the Bombing of Dresden and add some fire to her war crime. And thus, a very large petard is hoisted around BFA’s neck.

The image of a burning Teldrassil is almost certainly a very shocking, very dramatic one, and I’m pretty sure that’s why Blizzard chose to do it. It’s certainly a very big, risky move in the terms of story that could have elevated it. The quest to try and save the citizens of Teldrassil as it burns is truly harrowing and excellent in how it underscores the hopelessness of the task.

The thing with the burning of Teldrassil is it has colossal consequences, and the story did not handle it with the gravitas it deserved. After that moment, you cannot bring the Alliance and Horde to a happy peace - the Horde has done an undeniably awful, inexcusable thing, and yet the Alliance will apparently look the other way and sign a peace treaty with them now Saurfang is dead and Sylvanas has run off to make Shadowlands happen.

So already we’re in trouble from War of the Thorns, which was not helped at all by Blizzard devs playing a ‘who burned the tree’ game only to reveal that it was always Sylvanas, she did it because she meant to do it. This did nothing but upset and annoy people (me included), which started everything off with a sour taste in our mouths.

Next stop is the attack on Undercity, which is good if not for the inexplicable stupidity of the Alliance not perhaps thinking that Sylvanas would use the Blight against them, after they just witnessed her burn Tedrassil down. And knowing she dumped Blight on Gilneas.

Despite these slip-ups, we’re keeping up this feeling of all-out war. The Horde gets word that Talanji and Zul are stuck in jail, let’s rescue them and get the Zandalari on our side to beat the shit out of the Alliance! The Alliance, not to be out done, decide to go get the Kul Tirans.

And that’s when the story fractures. The stories on Zandalar and Kul Tiras are kinda understandably divorced from the main war, but they’re so divorced as to be almost completely outside of it. The only signs of it outside the War Campaign are the Alliance sailors scrapping in Talanji’s Rebuke that you find in a non-essential side-quest, and the shoehorning of the Horde into the Stormsong questline, which then proceeds to break the latter questlines when the bloody quilboar seem to appear out of nowhere and become the main baddy (what?!).

It took the advent of 8.1 for Faction Assaults to start occurring and making us feel like all-out war, but it seemed a little too late. There was the attack on Dazar’alor that pushed the war narrative, but it was starting to get tangled up with the ‘Sylvanas is Bad Warchief, we must remove her. Or not...?’ storyline with Saurfang, which fell back onto ‘the Horde isn’t bad, it’s the Warchief who is!’ which 1, we’d already had in MoP, and it wasn’t a fun feeling that time either, and 2, it’s not really a good excuse after a genocide.

So Horde politics start, which are sort of interesting to Horde players, but not Alliance players, who only have Tyrande being understandably pissed at losing her home and people and going to wreak havoc to be content with. Well, if by ‘wreak havoc’ you mean ‘kill a val’kyr and somehow get beaten by Nathanos and then get shelved for orc drama later’. Salt was rubbed into this wound when a dev said that Tyrande had ‘got revenge for Teldrassil’ with this, which went down badly.

Now, there has been Old God stuff rumbling throughout the expansion up to this point, granted, but you can count on one hand the amount of times it was given a shit about. Only when Crucible of Storms comes out does N’Zoth do a proper ‘hey guys I’m a bad guy!’ thing, and he actually starts to slither into centre stage.

8.2 begins, when Azshara comes to kick our ass and free N’Zoth, and that’s when the tried and true ‘factions unite vs. the Big Bad’ trope comes out (as everyone and their mother predicted it would), and both factions decide that maybe they should focus against Azshara and her Old God master. But before N’Zoth beating, we need to boot out Sylvanas because she’s mean and burned a lot of innocent people.

8.2.5 arrives, everyone goes and makes angry faces at Sylvanas, Saurfang dies dramatically, Anduin and Jaina look pretty, and Sylvanas flies away angrily. Congrats guys, we did it! Now for some peace. Ignoring the fact Teldrassil is still ash, and Rastakhan is still dead (and the Zandalari are pissed about that), so it should be less ‘peace’ and more ‘polite ceasefire’.

And now it’s 8.3 and suddenly N’Zoth’s everywhere! And we’re going to kill him at the end of this patch and...that’s it. Next stop, Shadowlands. That big bad we’ve been hinting for a long, long time got a single patch to wave his tentacles and then he was very dead. Even worse, his big arrival was completely overshadowed by Shadowlands’ announcement. Ooof.

With all these things, BFA’s story feels like it set off without knowing where it was going to end up, except that maybe N’Zoth was involved and Sylvanas would ditch the Horde. So it bumbled around, making weird choices, and then wrapped up plotlines far too quickly. The war felt after Dazar’alor that it was about to escalate, what with Rastakhan’s death and Talanji’s ascent to Queen. Instead, it suddenly paused before deciding it was going to end so quickly I think it gave us whiplash, just so we could fight N’Zoth as an united front. So of.

As a result, we have plotholes still yawning open, very unsatisfying endings, as well a perpetual conflict between Alliance and Horde on every public forum imaginable - Alliance aggrieved that Blizzard has ignored them yet again in the story department, except when they wanted a shocking stunt, whilst the Horde is upset that they’ve been hit the ‘villain’ stick again, except this time it was a fucking bludgeon, and we’re getting very tired of this now please stop. This isn’t helped by all the foreshadowing of the faction lines either dissolving or loosening up during the coup against Sylvanas, and then Blizzard just going ‘yeah nah can’t do that, gotta preserve the status quo’.

So, how can we improve this by adding N’Zoth? Well, remember the core premise of Legion and stopping them? Repeat that with N’Zoth. It is simple, but we can give it its sweet twist - we’ve got to stop N’Zoth, because he’s not only trying to corrupt Azeroth. He’s also playing the Alliance and Horde against each other so they can’t stop him.

Immediately that makes N’Zoth the Big Bad, and also underscores the point of We Do Not Want Him To Get Out of His Cage, which makes the fact he does get out a big OH F*CK moment. Not that it isn’t already in current BFA, but can you imagine the gutclenching despair you’d feel as you’d done everything in your power to stop this from happening, and yet it’s happening anyway? Now you’d know what Khadgar felt like when the Tomb of Sargeras opened - and you’d know that you’ve got to do everything you can to put this right.

Let’s go back to the beginning, only this time we dial the Void stuff up. We begin the War of Thorns with the factions already tensed up re: Azerite, with preliminary scraps over it and what looked like the Alliance attempting a coup over some of the Forsaken (HEY BLIZZARD STOP PUTTING LORE LIKE THAT IN BOOKS AND NOT REFERRING TO IT INGAME KTHANKS). A tenuous peace, to be certain, which could only be made worse by Old God agitators, stirring up unrest in the factions.

As much as I would prefer the Horde not being the instigator in all the bad stuff, N’Zoth is the only variable I changed in this equation, so with unrest and some intel that makes it look like the night elves are making a move either to cut off Azerite production, or funnel it through Teldrassil, the Horde strikes at Ashenvale and Darkshore, instigating the War of Thorns.

Things look to be going normally, but you as the Champion notice Old God stuff lurking about and ‘hey this looks like what was happening before the Cataclysm- Oh. Oh no!’. You try to bring evidence that this is a set-up to the people in charge, but it’s escalating out of control. Night elves are dug in so deeply that the Horde has to set fires in the forests to get them to move, which causes retaliation, which gets Saurfang involved who critically injures Malfurion, but before the final blow Tyrande punts him into next week and maybe at this point someone goes: ‘wait hold up what do you mean there’s not Azerite over here’.

We stumble over to Sylvanas to try and tell her ‘no wait we’re being played’, but she takes this as misinformation and or a bluff, and fires a couple of catapaults to show she ain’t fucking kidding at Teldrassil. A couple. Enough to cause a ‘I mean business fire’, but since Teldrassil is in the fucking sea and I would assume almost always damp around its lower regions (you’re allowed a snigger at that), it’s not going to set the entire thing ablaze.

Except it does, because of N’Zoth’s minions in the Horde (and Alliance, probably), who fan the sparks with wind and feed them with power. Alternatively, we could have naga rise from the depths to set some Azerite-infused fires too, just to foreshadow Azshara coming onto the scene later.

With Teldrassil engulfed, everyone is shocked, including Sylvanas, who really didn’t intend this to happen at all (and is pissed because there goes her bargaining chip). The Alliance of course declare all-out war on the Horde because how dare they, whilst the Horde is briefly paralyzed with shock.

Saurfang and the others yell ‘how could you?!’ at Sylvanas, who yells back ‘that wasn’t part of the plan!’ and also something along the lines of ‘why the fuck didn’t you tell me the intel was shifty before this happened?!’ before going: ‘well it’s happened now, so we best gear up and stomp the Alliance into the dirt or we’re all going to die’.

Meanwhile people are going: ‘yeah but what about the influences of darker things going on? maybe we should do something about this’ with the answers being: ‘shut the fuck up, they set fire to Teldrassil’/’shut the fuck up, do you really think the Alliance is going to stop after what just happened’?

So it’s a race against time to try and get the factions to turn against N’Zoth instead of ripping each other apart before horrible shit starts happening and we’re all royally in the shit.

Everything happens pretty much as is from there, except we get some explanation for the lack of gas masks being ‘oh no our totally legit sources told us the Blight hasn’t been stockpiled in large quantities, we’ll send infiltration teams to neutralise it’. Only to find out that this is not the case of course and N’Zoth cackles some more. Sylvanas and Saurfang have an argument leading to Sylvanas booting him out and Saurfang getting captured by the Alliance despite the orc wanting death.

Everything goes as is from there, with Zul kinda trying to get Talanji killed because N’Zoth, in a mirror of Ashvane/Jaina. Just this time, we’re pushing the Void angle hard. They’ve both got their hands (or tentacles, rather) deep into Kul Tiras (Azshara) and Zandalar (G’huun), so it only makes sense to amplify their nonsense.

Over time people higher up the chain pick up the fact that N’Zoth’s doing this on purpose, but bad shit keeps happening so the Alliance and Horde can’t put aside their differences because both sides are doing genuinely bad things to each other! Yes, including the Alliance! Sylvanas is doubling down because she wants to survive this, and the only way she knows how is to utterly destroy her opposition. When she sees parts of the Horde begin to lose faith, she gets pissed because this is not the fucking time and this is the only way to stop the Alliance damnit.

Similar stuff happens in the Alliance, with Tyrande understandably going on a rampage against the Horde with Genn in tow, whilst Anduin and the others try to pump the brakes as they see N’Zoth’s tentacles looming everywhere.

Everything reaches a hecking climax when Azshara shows up and one thing leads to another, and N’Zoth comes bursting out, prompting an ‘OH SHIT’ moment. I’m thinking during Nazjatar, the small Alliance/Horde forces there ally, and when they’re just about to do something useful, the bigger kids show up going: ‘what the fuck are you traitors doing?!’ and during the argument, Azshara steals the Heart of Azeroth and unlocks N’Zoth’s prison, which leads everyone to realize ‘bollocks, we were played’.

Anduin can bring most of his Alliance forces to a standstill, and begs Tyrande and Genn to help him vs. N’Zoth. Tyrande tells him where he can stick it, but Genn is persuaded, though he says he’s going after the Horde as soon as N’Zoth is downed.

The Horde does the same to Sylvanas, but she knows as soon as N’Zoth is down, the Alliance will have her head, and especially when she realizes Tyrande’s still out there, she stands her ground. When a good portion of her powerbase decide on the temporary ceasefire to go after N’Zoth, however, Sylvanas tells them to piss off, and ditches the Horde. Talanji does a Genn, knowing how bad the Old Gods are, but she’s still getting blood payment from Kul Tiras after this is done.

Thus, everyone finally turns their attention to the big bad, fully entrenched, and ready for this grand climax. after he’s been causing all this pain and suffering. The Alliance and Horde are splintered, each nursing legit grievances against the other, but standing together for a moment, as always.

Yes, it’s Cata and MoP dressed up in a different coat, but sometimes a simpler plot is easier. That and Cata was more the factions poking each other in the eyes a couple of times rather than all out war.

With N’Zoth as the instigator of the conflict in BFA, we get a big bad we must fight, and we understand more than he’s a legit threat - and that he knows how to weaken us, so he throws us in a battle against one another so he can win. Yet everything isn’t forgiven at the end - the status quo is sort of there, but the factions are more fractured than before. Crimes still need to be answered for, but doing so may cause more conflict and death.

Sylvanas is out there and pissed, and feels the only way she can survive is to subjugate everyone that could ever harm her and perhaps transcend death itself. This entirely speculation on my part, but a part of me thinks Sylvanas’ main driving force is ‘I’ve been through enough, not even death is a respite, I’m going to become so powerful no-one will control me - I will control fate myself if I must’, which is actually fairly tragic and does grant me sympathy for her (watch this not be her main motivator in canon tho).

Does this solve all of BFA’s problems? No, of course not. But I do think it would have improved the story, at least by managing to keep the story flowing in a more linear direction. You’ll notice that Saurfang has all but disappeared from the N’Zoth narrative, that’ll be because I wasn’t too sure what to do with him. I do like him as a character, but he was pushing the ‘only the Horde has story’ narrative, and I’m not too keen on that. He’d still be a main character pushing for fighting N’Zoth and dying in the end, but less of all the focus.

To those of you who got down here - congratulations and thank you! I went on a very, very long time. Hopefully I have written if not a persuasive argument, then at least an understandable one. This isn’t meant as a ‘Blizzard’s writing is terrible!’, because sometimes it isn’t, but as a ‘I think it would have been better if done this way’.

Thank you for reading, and I hope 2020 smiles upon us.

#world of warcraft #wow discourse #is it discourse? kinda I guess #spr rambles #long post #i just think they did n'zoth dirty is all #he deserved better #honestly a lot of characters in bfa deserved better #but what are we gonna do

[wrathion]

Hia! Hope you're doing well c: as another Anduin lover, I'm curious: what do you like about the current Holy King of Stormwind?

ahh i’m doing alright right now, thank you! 

as a general answer? everything, he’s the king who has had a coming-of-age story and carries a strong love of life itself. he’s the boy who grew up in a war-torn world who craves a peaceful end to the fighting. he runs on his gut feeling on what is right above all else, putting himself at risk if he thinks it’ll benefit someone else. he’s the one who agonizes so much about others that he neglects his own needs. he’s anduin wrynn, not just a trope or two in a suit with tied back blond hair.

as a current bfa-centric answer? i really love that they’re not ignoring his anxiety and depression and are actually letting him struggle (albeit subtly) and will hopefully slowly work through it! 

this is big meta and theory territory but hear me out:

varian’s death absolutely ruined anduin. sure, it was something that he was preparing for his entire life, but can you really ever be prepared for something like that? especially in anduin’s situation where he also happened to inherit an entire kingdom. after varian died anduin was in shock, doing his job but not putting the heart he typically would into it. then the champion brings the compass to him and he breaks. velen even says that he “refuses to eat and sleep” which is token self harm. 

of course he has that little moment with varian in the vision of stormwind, and he’s told to do “what a king must do.” varian probably intended this as a message of caring for his people, but just as importantly, himself. but anduin interpreted it as caring primarily for his people, that his role as king was more important than the person behind it. 

it’s evident that he thinks this way because of how he acts, not acknowledging his needs as he commands his own people to fight and die in a war he does not want to fight. a war that he thinks is for the greater good. as i said above, anduin has a need to keep as many people as he can safe, but he’s lost that drive and keeps sending people out hoping for the best. in the beginning of lost honor, genn says that they’re out of soldiers in stormwind and will need to begin drafting farmers. 

he’s also thoroughly inexperienced with war-related strategy, which just adds to the bonfire of his deteriorating mental health and confidence. he sends out a small special team to kill rastakhan and to try and break the alliance between the zandalari and horde. it’s kind of obvious that it would only push them closer, but when you’re fed up with yourself, burnt out from life and desperately need to tick things off the to-do list, thinking rationally doesn’t come naturally. 

and that’s not to say he doesn’t care about the lives he’s losing, he very obviously does. to the point where it’s destroying him.

i think the most obvious example, though, is in before the storm. at the very end, after the gathering (where shit in the anduin planning department starts going wrong). anduin’s looking out on the graves of all who were lost. i’m just going to put the full excerpt here because they’re honestly my favorite in any wow book.

Anduin shook his head in sorrow and disbelief. “I can’t blot out the images of the Desolate Council running as fast as they could to what they thought was a future with their loved ones. I feel responsible. For them. And for them,” he said, gesturing to the living still moving on the field. 

“Sylvanas killed her own people, Anduin,” Genn reminded him. “Not you.” 

“Rationally, of course I know that. But it doesn’t matter. Not in my bones. And not here.” Anduin placed a hand on his chest for a moment, then let it fall. “Those who fell on this field did so because King Anduin Wrynn of Stormwind had promised them they would be safe as they reunited with their loved ones. And they died because of that promise. Because of me.” 

The bitterness in his voice was like acid. Genn, who had never heard it from him before, fell silent. After a time, Anduin spoke.

“You’ve come to lecture me, obviously. Go ahead. I deserve every word.” Genn sniffed and rubbed his beard for a moment, his eyes on the horizon. “Actually, I’ve come to apologize.”

Anduin’s head whipped around, and he didn’t bother to hide his shock. “Apologize? What for? All you did was warn me against this.”

…

Genn took a deep breath. “But he was right. You were right. I still think what was done to the Forsaken against their will was horrifying. But it’s clear to me now that some of them haven’t been broken by it. Some of them are still the people they once were. So I was wrong, and I apologize.” 

Anduin nodded. A smile crossed his face fleetingly, then was gone. It was clear he was still burdened with guilt and stubbornly wouldn’t relinquish the pain of it. Not yet. 

“You were right about Sylvanas,” Anduin said, that cold bitterness lingering in his voice. “Light knows, I wish I’d listened.” 

“I wasn’t right about her, either,” Genn said, startling Anduin for the second time in as many minutes. “Not entirely. I knew she couldn’t let this go by without doing something. I thought she’d attack us. Not her own people.” 

Anduin winced and turned away. “She may have killed them, but I promised the Desolate Council safe passage. Those deaths are on my conscience. They will haunt me.” 

…

Anduin took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded at Genn. 

“Nonetheless, it is a tragedy, and it’s done any chance of peace great harm. It’s destroyed the prospect of working together with the Horde to heal the world. Azerite will continue to threaten the balance of power. It’s hurt the Alliance, too. Sylvanas used a moment that could have been a true turning point as a chance to eliminate people whom she viewed as her enemies. And she did it so smoothly, so well, that I can’t even call her on it. She didn’t break her word. Calia was a would-be usurper. I can’t ask Stormwind to go to war because the warchief of the Horde chose to execute individuals she will now paint as traitors. So she gets away with it. She’s won. She eliminated the opposition, killed the rightful heir to Lordaeron, and did it all while looking like a noble leader for not attacking the Alliance and starting a war.” 

Genn said nothing. He didn’t need to. He simply stood next to Anduin andlet the young king sort it out on his own. 

The minutes passed, and then, finally, Anduin spoke. “I will never, ever stop hoping for peace,” he said. His voice trembled with leashed emotion. “I have seen too much good in too many people to paint them all as evil and worthy of slaughter. And I will also never stop believing that people can change. But I realize now that I’ve been like a farmer expecting to harvest crops from a poisoned field. It’s simply not possible.”

Greymane tensed. The boy was leading to something. 

“People can change,” Anduin repeated. “But some people will never —never—desire to do so. Sylvanas Windrunner is one of those.” 

He took a deep breath. Sorrow and grim resolve made him look older. Genn had seen similar expressions on the faces of those who had been tasked with a heartbreaking duty. 

When the boy spoke, Genn was glad of the words but saddened by his need to say them. 

“I believe,” said Anduin Llane Wrynn, “that Sylvanas Windrunner is well and truly lost.”

anduin admitting sylvanas is incapable of changing is huge, and i honestly missed the whole point of it the first time reading through the book. 

this is the same anduin who took the time to talk to garrosh, and even saved his life because he thought he was capable of changing. the same anduin that believed in garrosh even after the horrible things garrosh did to him and all that he cares for. and now he’s saying he was wrong, with a bitterness in his voice when speaking about his own failure, and what he has to do next.

even genn’s a bit rattled by how self-deprecating and almost hateful anduin’s being, which is kind of telling.

i guess overall i feel like they have something really good building with anduin, and i’m especially hoping they either have his mental illness peak in a moment of desperation where he falls to some certain old-gody forces. 

this might be a bit fanfictiony but having an arc where he works himself out of a depressive episode in the form of old god corruption by using the lessons he’s learned about self-discipline and love in pandaria would be amazing. 

alternatively to fit in with the subtle route they’ve been taking so far, they could push the alliance infighting arc they’ve been building up and have anduin prove his ability as king by handling what he does best, a diplomatic situation. there he could realize that he’s not as inept as he thinks (and acts like) he is, and can start working to care for himself.

tl;dr yeah man i just like anduin a little bit. i think he’s neat is all.

#i have no idea what this is. the word count is above 1.5k. my family is starving. please send help. #shoutout to wolf for listening to me go on a tangent about this a couple days ago because i based a lot of whatever this is off those dms #world of warcraft #asks #cat screams about anduin #lothirielswan #ask to tag

[hellas-himself]

Ch. 6 Año Viejo

Ch. 5

After the death of his father, Azriel is forced to go back to the one place he swore he’d never return to. But he finds himself quite literally face to face with his past, one that he had not let himself think of since he’d left. 

Ch.7

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I reached over to Elain’s side of the bed and knew immediately that it wasn’t her playing with my hair.

“What the hell are you doing in my bed, Cas?”

He and Rhys started to laugh.

“Where’s Elain?”

I sat up and looked around the room.

“The girls went shopping. It’s just us today,” Cassian said, throwing an arm around me.

“Mom went with them, too,” Rhys added.

I nodded, fighting down a yawn.

“Get dressed. We’re going out.”

*

I usually hated when Cassian drove, but I was so tired I really didn’t care that he was probably risking a speeding ticket. I had sunglasses on and the biggest thermos I could find full of coffee. They didn’t even give me time to eat breakfast. Rhys was half asleep in the back seat, even with all the wind. Our dad had bought the jeep maybe a month after they’d moved here, and every time Cassian came to stay, he usually asked for the keys and disappeared with Nesta for a day or two.

“Where are we going?” I asked as civilization began to grow sparse.

“Can’t your brother want to surprise you?”

“Your surprises usually end up with one of us shit faced and passed out on mom’s porch.”

“It was one time!”

“Feyre has pictures of the two of us, you know.”

He looked at me so suddenly I had to laugh.

“I’m serious.”

Cassian sighed.

“This one won’t end bad, I promise.”

“Is there food involved?”

“We’ll stop.”

And we did stop. At a gas station in the middle of nowhere. Cassian went in alone and came back out with four bags of food, snacks and drinks. Once he had what he wanted, Cas started driving again. We lost cell service afterwards and after another half hour of driving, Cassian turned carefully; the ocean was to our left and the mountains to our right. He drove downhill before turning left and parked the jeep in the grass. There was a house a little ways in, surrounded by palms and shrubbery.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“I built it. A few years ago.”

“You built yourself a beach house.”

He shrugged as we neared the little porch.

“Tarquin didn’t care. No one really comes out here. Well, only the locals.”

He unlocked the door and we went inside. There was a little sitting area with very comfortable looking sofas. A small kitchen. One bathroom. And a bedroom that barely fit anything else but the bed. The closet was empty save for some towels and what looked to be bathing suits.

But he didn’t bring us here to lounge about, even if I would have been glad to sleep on the sofa. There was only one another room in the house and I had the feeling it had been the living room once. But now, it existed for the sole purpose of storing and caring for the surf boards he had in there.

“Three years?” Rhys asked, leaning against the wall.

“Nesta wanted something for just the two of us… But she woke me up this morning and told me to bring you here because she wanted to be with her sisters. I thought she was kidding, but she’s… she’s really happy that Elain is here. I haven’t seen her smile like that in a long time.”

*

We three sat in the sand, exhausted. I felt as if it would take days to get all this sand off but I didn’t care. This had been amazing. Even with how guilty as I felt, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed being around my brothers.

“If tomorrow wasn’t New Year’s Eve,” I said, “I wouldn’t mind staying here.”

“Oh yeah?” Cas threw an arm around me.

“That was fun.”

“It really was,” Rhys added.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Cas said to me. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Cassian reached over to push on Rhys, even with me in the middle.

“I missed you, too, hermanito.”

I let out a long sigh.

“Hey, guys, I wanted to run something by you.”

*

Mom didn’t let us in the house when we got back, even though we’d showered at Cassian’s beach house. She sent us to the shower outside in the backyard.

“Az?” It was Elain. I got on my tip toes and looked over the wall.

“Hey.”

“I brought you a towel.”

“You’re the best, El.”

“Where’s my towel?” Cas whined.

“Nesta said you can air dry,” Elain said and Rhys and I did our best not to laugh.

I held my hand out and shut the door once it was in my hands. I wrapped it around my waist and looked at my brothers.

“I’ll come back for you. I promise,” I said, putting a hand to my heart. I was practically shoved out and Elain was blushing, a hand to her mouth as she giggled.

“I made your favorite for dinner,” she said as she held out her hand to me. But I lifted her up off the floor and covered her face in kisses.

“I missed you today,” I said.

“Me too. But I got a dress for tomorrow,” she said as I set her on her feet. “It’s actually a romper. But it’s perfect for the shoes you got me the day we went into town.”

“You bought something based off shoes?”

She looked at me as if I’d blasphemed.

“Az, they are too perfect not to wear them tomorrow.”

Nesta and Feyre were walking out with towels and when they saw us, they motioned for us to be quiet. I was almost tempted to stay in the kitchen and eat but mom looked at me from the living room and I kept walking to the stairs.

I walked to the closet and tried to find her dress, but only found the ones we’d gotten after Christmas. My closet had become mostly hers, and I honestly loved it.

“Don’t even think about looking for it,” Elain said, leaning back against the door. “I hid it in Cassian’s room. Nesta has it.”

I smirked.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

*

Mom was fixing dad’s tie the two of them all ready to go. Cassian had been tying and untying his hair for the last five minutes, waiting for Nesta to come down. Rhys was upstairs, refusing to let Feyre walk down in heels without him there next to her. I was just finished rolling up the sleeves to my midnight blue button up shirt when Cassian whistled.

Nesta rolled her eyes, coming down the stairs in a glittery red dress that I was surprised to see her in. That was usually Feyre’s type of dress. Feyre wore black, as always. They carefully made their way down the stairs and Rhys looked relieved when she walked over to compliment Nesta’s hair.

“I’m almost done!” Elain shouted from my room. I was tempted to go up there but I knew she’d kick me out.

“If she changed her mind I’m going to scream,” Nesta said, and then told Cassian to keep his hair up. He stopped fidgeting then.

I really wasn’t sure what I expected when Elain told me she’d wanted this to be a surprise. I didn’t know what the hell a romper was so I had no guesses. But when she walked down the steps, I realized I would have never guessed it right.

It was rose gold, much like the shoes I’d gotten her. It had long, sheer sleeves with sequins in it. She had a pretty necklace on… but it had a thin chain that went down, down- the neckline was very deep. I knew my brothers were laughing at me for staring, and Elain was blushing but holy shit.

“You look beautiful, El.”

“It’s not too much, is it? I was struggling with the stupid body chain and-”

She realized everyone was looking at her. She had tanned somewhat since we’d arrived here and that rose gold against her skin, the way her hair was down-

“Pictures, then we leave,” mom declared. No one even fought her on it. We left their house with her smiling.

*

Tarquin’s mansion was full of people. Live music, an open bar and people were even in the pool. We found Tarquin busy building Año Viejo with Varian. He’d taken up the tradition ever since we did it at the house years ago. So we took turns each year, depending who was hosting.

“I haven’t seen one of these in forever,” Elain said. “Are you going to burn it?”

“We do that at our house. Everyone gets to have a turn with the bat here,” mom said and happily went to hug Tarquin.

It felt like an eternity of running into our friends, greeting one another, introducing Elain to anyone who didn’t know her. But it was nice having her next to me; if we weren’t holding hands, she had her arm looped in mine or I had a hand on the small of her back.

We finally found Amren by the champagne tower. She was dressed in silver, enormous red rubies hanging from her neck. I was surprised she hadn’t tipped over. She smirked when I said as much. She didn’t throttle me because she was far more interested in Elain.  

“You look sublime, Elain,” she said. “Wherever did you find that outfit?”

Amren handed Elain a glass of champagne and took her by the hand to go sit together. I took that as my cue to go find something else to do.

“Oye, pollo!” I smiled turning around to find our mother walking towards me. “I lost your father to the domino table.”

“Already?”

“Thesan and Viviane are playing against him and Kallias.”

“Good god.”

“Y la novia?”

“Amren found her.”

“Pobrecito,” she said and pinched my cheek.

“Want to go dance?”

Her grin was all the answer I needed.

*

As it neared midnight, everyone began to go outside. We had eaten and danced and drank so much champagne, save Feyre who had taken one nap upstairs in Cresseida’s room and had been drinking some fruity drink Tarquin had made just for her. Most of those who’d come in heels were barefoot, even Elain. She had left those upstairs in Amren’s room. We walked out to the grass, Elain sighing with relief. While some gathered around Año Viejo, others were passing around grapes.

“Did you have fun?” Elain asked me.

“Yes. Did you?”

“Yeah… This was amazing.”

“Elain, I-”

The countdown began and Elain joined in.

“Happy New Year!” everyone shouted as fireworks lit up the sky. Elain turned around, pulling me by the collar to kiss me.

“I love you, Azriel,” she said and kissed me again.

“And I love you,” I replied. Soon enough, our family and friends were going around, hugging and kissing one another until Elain and I somehow ended up by Año Viejo who was ready to fall apart. Thesan handed Elain the bat and she giggled nervously.

“Az, you should go.”

“Go on. Just think of something you want to let go of and let him have it.”

She laughed and walked up, standing as if she were at base. She did two practice swings before she hit the muñeco with such force, his head rolled off, clothes and newspapers spilling onto the floor. Everyone lost their shit, Cassian came and lifted Elain in the air while Nesta finished the job. It was Rhys -Rhys- that picked up Nesta, and my brothers carried the sisters around the pool, everyone following around them drunk and riled up.

When Elain came back to me, she had a bowl of grapes in her hand.

“I know it’s late already, but what the hell, right? I couldn’t find anymore of the black ones. I know you don’t like the green ones, I hope red is okay.”

I smiled. “It’s perfect, El.”

“Make a wish,” she said and no, that wasn’t how this went. But my girlfriend was hand feeding me grapes and I was only thinking of every single thing I wanted to give her, everything I wanted to share with her.

I didn’t need twelve wishes for that. 

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Año Viejo  literally translates to “old year”. As a kid, I remember everyone made a man out of old clothes and things, sat him outside and at midnight, you either beat it or set it on fire. Both. It was to symbolize letting go of the old. PLEASE keep the squiggle over the letter N else  Año becomes ano which means anus and we don’t want that. 

Oye means hey! or Listen! but in this case, it’s hey!

Pollo means chicken or chick BUT when used in this context- it means handsome. don’t ask. I don’t even know and I've heard it my whole life. 

Y la novia? means ‘and the girlfriend?” like, where is she

Pobrecito. remember the ‘cito’ makes everything small or like a baby, right? pobre means poor so it basically means “poor baby”. or you just really feel bad for the person/ it’s all in the tone. 

muñeco  means doll. or anything that resembles a person but isn’t real. 

we’re supposed to eat 12 grapes at midnight but no one ever does. that’s a lot of grapes in such a small amount of time. 

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@dreamerforever-5 @fireheart-of-your-dreams @maastrash

sorry it took so long! my daughter started school this week and my sleep is all over the place. 

#elriel #elriel holiday au #dia de reyes #Año Viejo

[alwayscarryonjily]

Perhaps We Were Friends First - Chapter 4

Fic masterlist

-

Ash

Feyre doesn’t put us on cleaning duty, although I suspect the exhaustion that hits us both in the morning is the punishment we get. Theo’s birthday celebrations went on well into the early morning. The whole city was out, celebrating the Night Court heir turning one year older. We started out with a family dinner at dusk. Then we had to accommodate for Theo’s younger sister, Loralee, who is, at nine years old, still too young to go to the clubs in Velaris. So, we went across to the Rainbow and danced to the musicians sat in the streets. Theo and I took Lora to her bed just before midnight and promptly returned to the party. We found that Azriel, Elain, and Nesta had gone home. Elain and Azriel because parties weren’t really their thing, and Nesta because she claimed exhaustion, although the rest of us suspected another reason. The rest of us spent hours dancing and drinking our way from one club to the next. Eventually we all retreated back to the estate and gave a very tired Theo his presents.

Mor gave him a new set of Illyrian fighting leathers. His parents put some more gold in his personal account as well as a new set of paints. Cassian gave him a new sword on behalf of him and Nesta. Elain had already gifted him a beautiful, midnight blue, silk shirt after our river antics. Azriel had given him a new set of twin daggers. Lora had sleepily handed him a tulip of deep purple while whispering, “Happy birthday.” Amren gave him a new easel and some paint.

When it’s my turn I hand him a thin wooden box shyly. He takes it with a raised eyebrow and lifts the lid off. His sleepy face lights up and a great guffaw leaves his mouth. Inside the box sits a set of paintbrushes with a note that reads, ‘Courtesy of His Royal Highness, Rowan Whitethorn’s tail feathers’.

Theo holds his arms out for me and I step forward expecting to be pulled into an embrace. Instead he pulls me onto his lap, so that I’m straddling his legs, facing him. His blue eyes stare intently into mine and I redirect my gaze to his shoulder, blushing slightly.

“Thank you. I love them,” he says, laughing. “How’d you convince him to let you?”

“Convince him? I’m his only daughter. He does everything I say,” I say with a smirk.

Rhysand lets out a splutter to my right that I assume is him trying to cover a laugh. Theo raises an eyebrow at me and pinches my thigh. I let out a squeal and poke my tongue out at him.

“Fine. I have to train with him, Aedion and Lorcan every morning that I’m at home for the next month.” I give in.

“Well, thank you. I really do love them,” he says before kissing my cheek.

I wrap my arms around his neck at the same time he wraps his around my waist. I bury my nose in the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent of jasmine and citrus. We pull away, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on my waist, so I swing one of my legs over so that I’m sitting across his lap and can look out at the rest of the room. When I look up at said room, I’m met with the stares of all five adults in the room. They all shake their heads when they see us both look up and quickly go back to their glasses of wine – or blood, in Amren’s case. They start up new conversations and move on from the presents. We all continue drinking and talking and dancing until everyone either finds their way to a bed or passes out somewhere.

I wake up in the morning on the floor of the main living room with a weight on my stomach. I start to lift my head but have to let it rest on the ground again when a splitting headache jolts through it. I instead reach my hand up to feel the weight and find a head of hair there. The head can only belong to Theo, so I continue playing with his hair and staring up at the ceiling as my headache calms down. He makes a noise after a few minutes and rolls over. His face hits my breast and he freezes. I push myself into a sitting position and his head drops into my lap. He opens one eye and looks up at me.

“Sorry, Ash,” he mumbles and closes his eye again.

“I swear if you fall asleep here again, I will hurt you. I’m hungry and want food,” I snarl.

He smirks, eyes still closed, and before I know it shadows are engulfing me. My eyes adjust to the new light and I find myself on the kitchen floor, Theo still sleeping on my lap.

“You little shit,” I say, but I can’t keep the smile off my face.

Elain lets out a yelp from by the oven and turns to see us on the floor, her lazy nephew still dozing on my lap. She shakes her head and returns to whatever she’s cooking for breakfast.

“Elain? Do you happen to have any tonics in here?” I ask, rubbing my neck, where it seems to have gone stiff from sleeping on the floor.

She whirls from the stove, a wooden spoon dripping red sauce all over the floor and her skirts. “What for?”

“Oh, just pain relief. My neck is really stiff, and my parents probably wouldn’t be happy to know I slept on the floor all night,” I say. “Speaking of, do you know what the time is?”

Elain leans over the counter to look at the sun while reaching to drop the wooden spoon back into the pot it came from. “It’s about ten. Do you have time for breakfast before you leave?”

I sniff, and my eyes roll from the enticing smell of bacon and sausage. “I think I can make time.”

She laughs softly and starts preparing two plates of food; one for me, one for Theo. I flick Theo’s nose a few times, eliciting some irritated twitches and eventually a glare.

“What do you want, she-devil?” He snarls at me.

I grin down at him and flick his nose once more. He bares his canines at me and snaps at my fingers. I tut.

“That’s not becoming of a future High Lord,” I say, shaking my head. “What a beast you are, Theoden.”

He sits up, still snarling, and spins on his knees to face me head-on. I roll my eyes and bare my own canines at him.

“You fae males are insufferable. Honestly. All it takes is one minor inconvenience and suddenly you turn into a growling bastard,” I say, flicking his nose once more.

I instantly regret my decisions when he pounces on me. I hit my already pounding head on the floor and let out a pained groan at the impact. Theo’s eyes widen as he freezes above me, and he sits back.

“Ash? Oh, Cauldron. Shit. Are you okay? Oh, Gods, what have I done?” He fusses.

I laugh, despite the enhanced headache attacking my brain and force myself to sit up.

“Fae males,” I mutter under my breath.

“Ash, please. Tell me you’re alright,” he says, reaching to help me up.

He guides me to my feet and I meet Elain’s stare. We roll our eyes together over Theo, who sits me down at the casual dining table in the corner.

“Theo, shut up. All I want right now is food.”

He quickly pushes away from his place beside me and collects the plate from Elain while she’s midway through pouring some tomato and bean mixture onto the piece of toast. She glares at his back while she wipes up the puddle of food on the counter that his hastiness resulted in. I shoot Elain an apologetic look and she waves her hand dismissively as Theo places the plate in front of me.

“Aunt Elain? Do you have that tonic she mentioned earlier?” He asks, stepping towards the wall of cupboards.

She nods and pushes past him to open a cupboard. He takes the seat beside me and lets Elain take care of the tonic.

“Theo, can you please stop fussing? I don’t understand what’s up with you. Just two days ago you were laughing at me for falling on my ass.” I take a bite of toast covered in what I can now see is beans in a tomato sauce and moan; it’s so good, Elain’s cooking is always so good.

Theo blinks at me a few times before turning away, shrugging. I glare at him but continue eating. Elain hands me a glass of orange juice, which I assume contains the pain relief tonic, and then places a plate identical to mine in front of Theo. He smiles up at her appreciatively and starts eating. We consume our breakfast in silence until Feyre and Rhysand walk in ten minutes later.

“Good morning, everyone,” Feyre says as she kisses the top of my head and then Theo’s. “How is everyone’s morning going?”

“Your son is being a fussy mother hen,” I say between bites of sausage and bacon.

I look up at the High lord and High Lady of the Night Court and find them smiling knowingly at each other. Not that the smiling is unusual, but I don’t know why my comment would cause that reaction. I go back to my food without questioning it.

“Theo, lay off Ashera. She can take care of herself. You can winnow her home after you finish eating. Cauldron, Elain, how much food did you make?” The High Lady marvels, finally seeing how much food Elain has been piling on plates.

“Enough for everyone. Azriel’s stopping by around lunch with Mor, Amren and Varian. Nesta and Cassian are coming by soon as well, and I suspect Nesta will be eating a bit more than usual. Speaking of, do you think she’ll tell us instead of letting us figure it out on our own?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Feyre says, stealing a sausage.

“Although, if I know my brother, Cassian can’t keep his mouth shut. I bet he’ll be around bragging soon enough,” Rhysand adds.

I look to Theo and catch him already looking at me. We grin over the adult’s gossip and finish our food. He holds a hand out to me and pulls me to him as we stand.

“See you in two weeks, Ashera. Happy birthday for Saturday!” Elain says, smiling at me before Theo and I disappear into shadows.

Within moments, I’m standing in the courtyard of my home in Orynth. Rain pours down on us, but something moves to shield me quickly. I turn to Theo, whose arms I’ve stepped out of, and see him holding one of his summoned Illyrian wings out to cover me. I smile gratefully and let him take my arm to guide me inside the castle. We barely make it inside before an excited yell echoes through the hall and a slim frame slams into me. Blonde hair covers one of my eyes and I instantly wrap my hands around my attacker.

“Ash! What took you so long? We need to catch up before your father drags you off for training.”

I laugh and pull out of my cousin’s embrace. “Don’t worry, Farryn. He’ll give me the day if I ask.”

“This will never stop being weird,” Theo says to my right.

I turn to him at the same time Farryn does and I grin at him, knowing she mirrors me. He shakes his head and laughs softly. A part of my chest lifts at the sound but I quickly push it back down.

“What? You mean it’s weird that we both have blonde hair and Ashryver eyes? I wonder why,” Farryn says, sarcasm dripping from every word.

He chuckles again, and that same lift in my chest occurs. “Always good to see you, Farryn.”

She grins at him as she links our arms together. “Thank you for returning my cousin in one piece. We’ll see you on Saturday, I guess.”

He nods and looks to me, mouth parted slightly, as if he wants to say something. Then he shakes his head and steps back.

“Bye, Ash,” he says simply before disappearing in a cloud of darkness.

Farryn leans over and sniffs my shoulder while I stare at the spot he disappeared from. “You still reek of wine. Go shower before we do anything.”

I laugh and shift into my other form – a hummingbird – as she shifts into a falcon. We fly through the palace up to my rooms, letting our cries echo throughout the halls.

#feysand son #rowaelin daughter #feysand son x rowaelin daughter #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash #assassins blade #feyre #rhysand #nesta #elain #cassian #azriel #mor #amren #aelin #rowan #lorcan #aedion #elide #lysandra #oc ashera

[silent-of-spirit]

World of Warcraft rant below, in regards to datamined info about the Battle for Azeroth expansion. Spoilers abound, but much of this is subject to change, considering we are still in Alpha (Here’s hoping) @inner-muse because you Get Me (tm) on this particular subject.

(Warning this is like PURE salt. I KNOW things may change, I KNOW that Blizz is known for retconning lore. Just... allow me my salt. I am Tired (tm))

Salty rant brought to you by this.

So, Night Elves. The Night Elves have been a historically strong and prominent race in lore. Their empire spread over much of Azeroth in ancient times, and even since, Kalimdor has largely been under Night Elf influence. This is a people who created one of the strongest and most fearsome armies Azeroth has ever known, comprised entirely of women while their men lie sleeping beneath the earth in barrow dens.This is an army that gave Warchiefs pause, an army that could not be overtaken by the might of the Horde. This is why Night Elven territory has largely been left alone despite the heavy Horde presence spreading over Kalimdor.

This is a people who has beaten back the Legion not once, but twice with very little - if any - outside assistance. This is a people from which some of Warcraft’s most powerful lore characters come from. Azshara, Illidan, Malfurion, Tyrande, a race which Ysera gave her favor and which holds the favor of one of the most powerful Goddesses in Warcraft - Elune, AKA the mother of the Naaru?

And this is a race that has been consistently shit on since Cataclysm. This is a race whose leader loses more of her spine with each new expansion - a woman who, historically, was known for her strength and fearlessness, who was chosen to lead her people because of her ability to do so. She is a woman who doesn’t crumble beneath pressure or difficult decisions, a woman who will accept an alliance but will not bow before them. She is a woman who has always led her people in a way that strengthens them, and a woman who would not hesitate to cut any ties that would hinder their progression. Tyrande is proud and fierce while still serving her people and her goddess with little regard to herself.

Or, she used to be. Now Blizzard tosses us the watered-down priestess who quakes in the face of the encroaching Horde, who bends over backwards to meet the demands of a King who would not do the same for her people (I LOVE Varian, don’t get me wrong, but if you think he would show the same devotion to the Night Elves that Tyrande does to the Alliance, well... agree to disagree.) A woman who spent ten thousand years aching for her lover, but still leading a strong and proud people, who falls apart the moment he returns? That is not the Tyrande I know. That is not the Tyrande I accept. With each expansion she becomes more unrecognizable - a spineless, blithering creature that makes me wonder if Blizzard even remembers their own lore. And now? With the burning of Teldrassil? You expect me to believe that she would not fight with everything in her to protect the World Tree? To protect her people? Her home? She has a goddess on her side! One who quite literally speaks through her at times and will imbue her with power.

But Sarah, we don’t know yet that she doesn’t fight back. Okay, okay, I will give you that one - but with this caveat. I truly believe that if she fought the way her character would, then she would not have survived the burning of Teldrassil. Datamining has showed us that Tyrande is alive and well.

Back to the People. Cataclysm wasn’t the beginning of Blizzard showing the faltering might of the Night Elves, but it was the most prominent stepping stone to further lore and expansions that continue to stomp all over the Night Elves. Now, okay, okay, I know, the Cataclysm destroyed major Night Elf settlements and lands... but not their armies. The Sentinels were split between Teldrassil and Feralas (both locations which the Cataclysm itself did very little in the way of destruction), with very few of their numbers actually falling during the events that rent the world. (Remember, a singular army that actually stopped the Horde from taking Night Elf lands. No backup, just THEM.) So now all of a sudden the Horde are invading Ashenvale? And making like... a lot of headway? (I know the reasonings behind the invasion. The invasion itself makes sense, but not how FAR they got) So... the sentinels just... do nothing? And the Night Elves can’t take back Ashenvale? I’m sorry? Please direct me to the place where this makes sense cuz like... it doesn’t. (Not bringing Hyjal or Desolace or Darkshore into this because the Cataclysm had much more of an impact than the Horde did in those zones) And yeah, the Cataclysm dealt the Night Elves a serious blow. I’m not discounting that, but their armies are still intact.

An army of expertly trained warriors from a race that is known above all else for their fierce pride. They would not sit idle. Even while helping their devastated territories, they would have more than enough numbers to march to Ashenvale and drive the horde back out. MORE than enough. The Horde presence was barely a blip in the grand scheme, and yet Blizz tried to tell us that they could not be pushed back, and that the elves are struggling to find purchase in this newly rent world. Ajhegdfkjg. The Night Elves are probably the most ADAPTABLE people in Warcraft lore. They survived the Sundering, survived the Legion TWICE (four times if you count BC and Legion now), survived demons and the Nightmare and betrayal and power and corruption and a world that has done everything in its power to see them wiped clean of it. They survived it ALL and THRIVED (not to the extent they used to, granted, but compared to others?) They moved, they rebuilt, they replanted, they trained and grew and prospered in the wake of all THAT and now you tell me that the Cataclysm is too much for them to come back from? AHjjhdgfh.

Mists wasn’t as hard on the race as a whole, but it was really a turning point in regards to Tyrande and how much her character had declined in SUCH an out of character way. Sending her people to a new land while the Horde still pressed in on Night Elf territories and their Warchief cackled in glee in nearby Orgrimmar after the bombing of an Allied city on her continent? Are you serious? *deep breath* Always always always she would put her PEOPLE first, not the runaway whelp of an allied king when there was still so much at stake. (Again, LOVE Anduin and Varian) The Night Elves didn’t even get a chance to rebuild before she was sending them off to places unknown at the command of Varian Wrynn. *salt salt salt salt*

Draenor? Same shtick, but with weird space-time travel that the Night Elves should want NO part of. (Hello? Well of Eternity anyone? Weird magic leads to baddddd things. Night Elves were RAISED not to trust that shit or anything having to do with the Void, which, let’s be honest, most weird time-space magic is usually Void related in some form or fashion)

Legion? *deeper breath, distant screaming* This expansion was the worst thing that could happen to Night Elves as a whole, Tyrande included. Yes, yay, we get to journey back to their ancestral homeland but then BAM we are smacked in the face with a corrupted World Tree, corrupted ghosts of a once noble order, a desecrated Vault and corrupted Wardens, the return of Illidan the Betrayer and all his cronies who are literally Part Demon, remnants of their people who survived in a protective shield only to turn to a well of arcane power (HELLO WELL OF ETERNITY AGAIN), Azshara’s naga cronies, tortured ghosts of Aszuna, satyrs everywhere you look in Val’Sharah, Old God bullshit, MORE Legion, and a consistent theme in the expansion is whacking us in the face with how easily Night Elves can be corrupted, used, and tossed aside. Weak Night Elves are like... half of all the content in the expansion. And that’s what upsets me so much, is that they are being painted this way and shoved in our faces as THIS and they are NOT weak, NOT easily corrupted (at least not any more than the other races), NOT power-mad, (the list goes on) And like? They face all of this absolute pile of shit in their ANCESTRAL HOME and they don’t even give themselves time to GRIEVE before they are leaping in to drive the darkness back. Like what about that is weak? Nothing, but hey, let’s paint them that way anyways.

And Tyrande? I cried actual tears at how she was portrayed. Malfurion too, though less so. Where did her fire go? Where did her spine go? Where is that ferocity and tenacity and pride that made me fall in love with her in the first place? There is so little trace of it left in this expansion that it actually felt like a physical blow. Instead we see her as a whimpering girl (aside from her interactions with Thalyssra. That is the most in character I have felt her be in a long time.)

And now we have a coming expansion that threatens to diminish the Night Elves and their proud history even more (I love the overall, okay, but the Night Elf stuff and Teldrassil REALLY bothers me). Not to mention, Sylvanas’ datamined dialogue regarding Teldrassil and Kalimdor? It feels like forced and lazy writing - a lore-shattering shove just to be able to justify the whole “separate continents” thing without really delving into why it is necessary or acknowledging the Night Elves and their history and how UNLIKELY it would be for the Horde to even get far enough to manage to torch the World Tree.

Yes, I am a Night Elf fangirl, but I think I am justified in feeling the way I do. When I see people who main Horde even seeing this pattern and saying the Night Elves should get a break? That should say a lot. We have been consistently shafted for no real reason other than lazy writing, and I am just... Tired (tm)

End rant.

#ignore me #wow stuff #i am salty #like this is pure salt filled #so much salt #i am the dead sea in regards to this #bfa spoilers

[wowheadquarters]

Interview with Garrosh

Q: Why did you do what you did during the siege of Orgrimmar?

Garrosh: What exactly are we talking about here? Garrosh: Using heart of Y’Shaarj seemed as a good idea. I admit it wasn’t, but in my defense, no one knew it would blow up the Valley. I just needed a power core. Garrosh: It was supposed to kick up the engines and power up warriors as well to defeat the damned Alliance and what was left of tthe Scourge, the bloody Zandalari and their followers, blasted Murlocs, and...  Garrosh: Azeroth was Horde’s for taking. Just look at the Elves and Humans what they had done to it. They don’t deserve that world! We were promised a better world after ours was destroyed by Gul’dan and the Legion. We need home. We can’t live on Outland, the spirits are abandoning it, it will never heal. And Azeroth is free, most of the races are too stupid and love to destroy it. Which is... Illogical. Garrosh: Most of the Horde races could live in peace with the spirits on Azeroth without destroying the world. Even the Trolls, despite I don’t like them much. Of course we couldn’t have a peaceful life when the Alliance was still trying to kill us all. Garrosh: If you want peace for the future generations, you need to fight now.

Q: What is it like raising 37 ghost children? 

Garrosh: It’s... exhausting. But rewarding.

Q: How do you feel about the Death Knights? 

Garrosh: I don’t like Death Knights. There were Death Knights in the old Horde. Gorefiend, maybe you remember? You could have met him in what was left of Shadowmoon Valley. Garrosh: A lot of things in the old Horde was bad. Death Knights among them. And nothing about them had improved. Even worse, most of them now aren’t Orcs. Orcs are at least a little trustworthy. Garrosh: It doesn’t help knowing the Scourge wanted me to be a Death Knight as well.

Q: What's your favorite type of cake?

Garrosh: I um... Don’t cake much actually. Cakes aren’t an ORc thing, you know. Maybe some... Berry cake?

Q: Soooo, what is there to do in the afterlife? Aside taking care of 37 ghost children ofc (where they came from btw?).

Garrosh: That’s the bad part about being dead. Nothing to do. It’s... boring. Garrosh: As for where they came from... That differs a lot. Garrosh: Gormak, Goruma and Ganan all come from the alternate Draenor. They died in various events upon froming and maintaing the Iron Horde. Garrosh: I know that Gwen died upon the attack on Theramore. And Gabrielle was in Warsong Offensive. I think I have seen Ga’bra in Orgrimmar few times, so I suppose he died either during the revolution or when it came to dealing with Trolls. Garrosh: But there are plenty of them I have to idea where they came from, liek Gnaw, Gruk, Gerard, Gizzele, Gabe, Grll or Glue.

Q: Are you jealous that Varian gets to be the ghost wolf?

Garrosh: No. I never liked wolves much anyway. I mean sure, they are useful but... There are better animals.

Q: Is there anything you miss from the world of the living?

Garrosh: There are few people I’d like to see again. But then I realize they wouldn’t like to see me. So no. Not really.

Q: Why are you too stupid to believe in strength other than brute force?

Garrosh: Alright, listen here. I know exactly what you think. You think me for a warrior who doesn’t use brain. And that is wrong. You can’t fight without thinking. That’s a suicide. Especially when you are responsible not only for yourself but other people too. Garrosh: The Orcs have two kinds of strength. The strength of warriors and the strength of shamans. Each works differently. Garrosh: Do I seem like a shaman to you? Garrosh: You might have not noticed what happens when I use anything else than brute force. I am quite sure the Pandarens are still quite upset about it. It’s not like I don’t believe in other kinds of strength. I just don’t think they work for me.

Q: What is your problem with Trolls? They served in Northrend like anybody else

Garrosh: Are we talking about the creepy, sneaky, blood thirsty, man-eating voodoo zealots that shouldn’t be allowed near anything sharp, stoned nearly all day, always ready to stab someone in their back, worshipping weird gods who let heads explode Trolls? These Trolls you mean? Garrosh: Aside from this... Nothing.

Q: So Garrosh, how does it feel to be in Heroes of the Storm?

Garrosh: It’s actually pretty awesome. Garrosh: And I like that girl... D.va is her name? She is a born warrior.

Q: Will you be adopting anymore ghost children?

Garrosh: Maybe. If I find some.

Q: What do you regret most, now that you're dead?

Garrosh: I should have eaten more chocolate in my life. When I came to Azeroth, chocolate was something extraordinary, amazing and new. I always saved it for special occasions, I never ate chocolate just because I could. I should have done that. I should have make moments special by eating chocolate, not celebrate special moments by chocolate. Advice from me: Life is short, eat chocolate whenever you want to. Garrosh: Also I am still kind of bitter I never head a death match with Vol’jin. Fucking liar that Troll. He promised to kill me and where was he at Nagrand, huh? I am still kind of expecting to pop up somewhere alive again just so we can fight each other to death. Garrosh: That would be awesome, actually.

Q: How do you deal with 37 (38 count Liam) ghost children?

Garrosh: They are pretty cool children, honestly. As dead they don’t eat. So it’s a lot of games and sleep. We often play War or we made our own Hearthstone cards. They love me. Somehow. I have no idea why.

Q: How is being stuck in the afterlife with one of the most despicable people and knowing that your kids love him?

Garrosh: It feels... Weird. IT gets only weirder when I realize that me and Vol’jin are... Well... We actually can get along. Garrosh: Imagine it as meeting the neighborhood bully twenty years later and finding out they are actually an okay person who shares a lot of interests with you. Garrosh: And about the kids... They love me too. Plus it’s that Troll who is called mom, not me.

Q: How do you feel about Anduin being the new king of the Alliance now that Varian kicked the bucket?

Garrosh: You know... It really is not my problem now, is it? Garrosh: Who knows. Maybe that kid is competent. Let’s hope for his own good he doesn’t catch the Famous Father syndrome. Not because I like him, I just know it is a shit.

Q: What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?

Garrosh: Aside from losing to Thrall? And bunch of stupid heroes? Garrosh: Back in Garadar there was a phase when I couldn’t sleep unless someone sang to me. That was very embarrassing.

Q: Hey Garrosh, if you could be reborn into anything what would it be?

Garrosh: You say “could”. Does that mean I don’t have to? Garosh: But if I had to... I’d return as a tree. An oak.

#Interview with... #Garrosh Hellscream #not a list #also happy birthday to me

[shadowphoenixrider]

Okay, I doubt I will ever get to BFA in Draggka/Khadgar’s story at the speed I’m writing, so I decided just to write the overview here. Because I want to get it down and also because I can. This is going to get loooong!

Before they head to Argus, Khadgar uses his magic to bind both him and Draggka to objects on their persons, so they can keep an eye on one another, and sense if they need help. Draggka is bound to the Draenor ring, which she has been wearing on her neck, unable to part from it even when she found a stronger ring of power. Khadgar, however, binds himself to his collar, since he wears it most of the time. He still won’t tell her why he wore it before this binding, however.

Luckily they don’t really need it, and when they’re busy tussling through Antorus with everyone else, they’re mostly together so it doesn’t really matter. Still, it reassures each other, and occasionally they send their love through it.

(I don’t care what the game shows; everyone shows up to fight Argus at the end. Which means everyone gets one-shot, and Eonar drags us all kicking and screaming back to life. This is relevant, not just for me actually making canon characters pull their weight for once.)

They’re very dismayed to see Sargeras stab Azeroth before he’s put in the Naughty Chair for Badly-Behaved Titans. Khadgar almost slumps on the floor, whilst Draggka bitches loudly that they’re never going to get any peace.

They take some comfort in that whilst the giant sword needs to be dealt with, it’s not got the immediacy of ‘the Legion invading and going to kill us all’, so everyone can afford to take a bit of break. They all very tired, so they do take the opportunity for said break. And a low-key party too; enough people remember that the archmage owes them a banquet, much to his annoyance.

During this break, Khadgar goes hunting for a ring. You see, during Argus, he has a chat with several people and figures that if they manage to survive all this nonsense, he really has no excuse not to marry Draggka. I mean the world nearly ended, and might still end. Not the time to have regrets.

He manages to keep it secret enough that not even Draggka suspects he’s up to something; although rumours that he’s taken a lover (and a troll one at that) are now starting to filter around Dalaran and other places. Mainly because he went ‘I don’t give a flying fuck any more’ on the Vindacaar, and started to show Draggka more affection openly (he didn’t go yelling it from the rooftops though, and has only told Turlaoyn and Alleria straight at this time - anything else is inference).

He manages to find the perfect one (or he finds a good base and makes it better, I’m not 100% with that yet, nor what the ring actually looks like), and asks Draggka if she could maybe find some time to show him one of the wild places she’s always wanted to show him. Draggka takes him to Sholazar Basin when they manage to squeeze some time for themselves.

(Side note: Medivh already knows about Draggka/Khadgar, even before Khadgar told him in Karazhan 2: Demonic Boogaloo. He’s amused and pleased at their relationship, and has cultivated a warming friendship with Draggka.)

After a day spent exploring and admiring the Titan bits, they’re sat under a tree as the sun goes down when he asks her in his clumsy, sweetly shy way to marry him. She says yes, of course. Medivh throws confetti over them

Their wedding is a secret, low-key affair, attended only by close friends and family, and it is an inelegant merge of a human and Darkspear’s wedding rituals. Either way, their bond is sealed under the Light and the Loa to become life-mates, and that’s really all that matters. (There after, Khadgar wears his wedding ring under his gloves, whilst Draggka pierces hers into her nose, as per the Darkspear way.)

They take a honeymoon to Pandaria to fall off the radar for a week, and it is during this trip that Zal’ria is conceived. The pregnancy doesn’t become noticeable until a while after they get back (read: I still need to plot this out properly), when Draggka gets grumpier than usual and starts having bouts of nausea.

Tinkerspring is called, and she reveals the pregnancy to them, and unfortunately, this does not start off as a happy time. There is much talking and hand-wringing, due to the suddenness of the announcement, and the fact the world has a whacking great sword in it and is maybe dying. As well as the factions starting to look at each other with malevolent eyes. It is not the best time to bring a child into the world, but here they are.

They finally agree to keep the child, as they partly don’t know if this might be the only biological one they’ll ever have (what with them being different races and that Khadgar’s fertility at 50 really isn’t great), and that their little one is extra resolve to get this bloody sword done away with, so they can grow up happy and safe. So after this big long talk, they start telling close family/friends, organising where they’re going to raise the young’n, what the room’s gonna look like, etc, etc.

Then of course the war starts.

Draggka immediately alerts Khadgar that shit’s going down, though she can’t give him detailed information in case she’s seen to be engaging in treason (at this point Draggka’s Blood Oath to the Horde is starting to become questionable at best, and tenuous at worst). She manages to avoid direct conflict where possible, incapacitating night elves if she can, whilst keeping her people out of danger. Even so, she finds it very strange that her brother Dranka and her shaman friend Harnaka have been ordered down to Silithus, especially when the rest of her group is in Darkshore.

The Burning of Teldrassil is the straw that breaks the kodo’s back. Draggka is furious at Sylvanas, and also herself at being suckered into another Warchief for whom war crimes seem to be their bread and butter. She immediately flees to Karazhan and Khadgar and bursts into tears in the retelling.

(Dranka is told at this point, and Medivh relays the information to Camdyn/Varian, along with the caveat that Draggka and co. did not want this and will not stand in the way of anyone trying to kill the Banshee Queen - I’ve not yet decided what happens here, but Draggka may swear a Blood oath to Khadgar instead).

Draggka is present at the Battle of the Undercity, keeping up appearances, but she avoids combat again, staying to assist the Forsaken civilians in fleeing, and fighting anyone who tries to cut them down. The apparent loss of Saurfang shakes her, and deep down, this is probably when she starts not to associate herself with the Horde any more. She’s still quite tied to it, both through her friends, her tribe, and her honour (she will fight to aid and defend the races of the Horde), but she no longer includes herself as part of the faction. (That said, her feelings on this are very messed up, and may never be fully unravelled.)

She is roped in to sneaking about Stormwind to get Talanji and Zul out of prison, and she is both surprised and relieved to see that Saurfang is alive. She briefly converses with Saurfang, saying that she learnt from Garrosh, and will not allow herself to be used by Sylvanas. Draggka is appalled and upset by the fire Zul starts, but is unable to aid the citizens, so immediately starts to dislike him. This is exacerbated when Rokhan tells her that he was the one who was attempting to reunite the troll tribes (that Vol’jin opposed), and was behind the mogu nonsense on the Isle of Thunder.

Draggka checks in as soon as she can with a very anxious Khadgar (who sensed her danger on the docks facing Jaina, but was unable to teleport in due to magical interference) and explains what’s going on. From there, Draggka steps into helping the Zandalari and exploring Zandalar, in which she finds great amount of joy - with the combination of the wild jungles and the fact the Zandalari are essentially her people, if not just a little removed.

As Speaker of the Horde, Draggka uses this title to duck out of the War Campaign, leaving it to be handled by others like her brother and friends (also becoming disillusioned and highly mistrustful of Sylvanas), though she does aid in respects that don’t hurt the Alliance (such as hunting for food/materials, fighting faceless ones), and closes up Azerite wounds wherever possible. She does her best to avoid conflict with the Alliance (and those who are aware avoid her too, or just do their best to merely injure her, and vice versa), but if she must defend the Zandalari with deadly force, she does.

Despite everything going on, she makes time for Khadgar, either communicating with him through his Wisdomball, or using portal/hearthstones to return to Karazhan or Dalaran. However, after befriending the Nightborne Lasai, Khadgar receives a Zandalari disguise, that he uses to let Draggka show him around Dazar’alor and the jungles. They use it sparingly so the archmage doesn’t accidentally end up revealed.

During this time, Talanji and Draggka become close friends, and eventually Talanji discovers Draggka’s pregnancy and who her mate is. She’s...bemused, but likes the human mage, and is convinced that he bears her and her people no ill will. And she learns that there are many things afoot in Azeroth, not least the blood troll nonsense and the sudden appearance of Azerite. Draggka does not make comment on Sylvanas, but Talanji learns from Khadgar about the unrest in the Horde.

Draggka was to help her friends take down G’huun, but Dranka and the others fear that the Blood God may harm Draggka’s unborn baby, and go to Talanji for support. Draggka argues that her honour demands that she finish what she started, but a long conversation with Talanji and her brother (with Dranka correctly pointing out what happened with Aegwynn and Sargeras, and also it’s a fucking old god with power over blood that is definitely dangerous to a baby), she agrees to sit this one out.

She won’t be sitting out the Siege of Zuldazar, despite Camdyn and Khadgar’s best efforts (which is going to drive her poor mate mad, but he reluctantly admits that her honour is too strong, and she’s as stubborn as he is), although Khadgar will enchant her Draenor ring so as soon as she’s hurt badly, she’ll automatically teleport to safety. As much as he would want to rip apart whoever hurt her, it’s probably best he doesn’t get involved.

That said, I don’t have much down pat for the Zuldazar raid just because it’s on the PTR and we don’t know much aside from what has been datamined. I still need to do some proper plotting of Draggka’s pregnancy, which could shift things around.

#SPR rambles #draggka/khadgar #oc/khadgar #otp: walk on the wild side #mild bfa spoilers #headcanon #character development #writing reference #god i need to write more