Erik Lehnsherr took one look at the curly-haired girl in front of him and said:
"You should have tried harder, Sam". His voice was deep, silky honey with an undercurrent of threat. If Sam had tried harder, she wouldn't be held down by two of Magneto's mutants while he floated above the ground mere metres from her.
"If you had, I wouldn't get to force you to live here.. as my servant. Sadly you aren't a mutant, but I can live with that. I'm not sure you can, though."
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"I got what I wanted," she said, clearly unbothered despite the situation. "You thought you dictated the rules here? Well, you would be wrong. This has been a part of my plan all along."
"And what would that plan be, hmm?" Magneto's voice was magnetic. "Getting yourself captured?"
"Maybe," she said, her voice almost…cheerful. Magneto wasn't sure what to say. Should he try to intimidate her or try a different tactic? This didn't seem to work
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Erik could have never prepared for this - somehow, in his hubris, he had allowed a, and he really thought this with much disgust, a fangirl to get close.
"It's okay. This is a meta narrative I'm completely in control of. I'm not Chris Claremont or Beau DeMayo. I'm not gonna make you commit a crime! Like, I'm even younger than Rogue was in Savage Land, yuck. Plus I'm like totally probably maybe on the asexual spectrum and honestly I would much preferred if you just let me date one of your daughters. Maybe both of them. Would this be a crazy time to say I'm here to ask for Lorna's hand in marriage. I've got pictures of her printed on my wall haha. I wish that was a joke for the sake of this meta narrative. And while I do have pictures of you printed next to hers also that's more of a… You know when you have pictures of your grampa in your house?? I'm also in a committed relationship, so yeah, nothing weird here. Thanks Kauria"
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Uther Pendragon had a problem. He'd spent so long trying to search for the mysterious, elusive being roaming through the halls of his castle, his home. It wasn't enough that this…thing was clearly a magic user, no. This being also left some quite interesting messages in each room they've frequented.
Uther ordered every knight to try and capture the being, but so far, with no results. It wasn't until one day he entered his chanber and there, he saw them. White, blinding hair and electric orbs
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The creature was…. strangely stunning. So incredibly alluring. Beautifully enticing.
Sexy. As. Fuck.
Quietly, internally, Uther hoped the beautiful twink in his bedroom was into dilfs. It was his only chance at getting a creature this fantastic to……
NO!!! He shan't even think of it… This thing had been stalking the halls of his home. He couldn't just…
"I've been waiting for you, Your Highness" - the white-haired beauty had a purr in his voice. Uther shivered.
"Give me one good reason not to call the guards waiting outside this chamber right this instant."
"And take away all the fun we could have~?"
The night was certainly taking a turn…
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"I have no idea what you could mean," he retorted, "clearly you are here to murder me. Or curse me."
"Oh, darling." The creature slipped from the bed and wandered towards him, easy as if he owned the place. His eyes caught every ounce of Uther's attention. Against his better judgement, his tongue lay still.
"Tell me, your majesty, when do you take the time to rest?"
Hands began exploring his shoulders, sharp fingernails grazing his neck. The creature's teeth were sharp, his face elegant and alluring. "Why don't we relax together?"
A haze began to descend on Uther's mind, an all encompassing exhaustion. Hell yheah
Joan of Arc had been resurrected for one reason, and one reason alone - to kill Jeff Bezos.
It was a noble quest. The type of quest vengeful angels who bring you back from the ashes akin to a Phoenix (HOLY SHIT XMEN REFERENCE!!!!!!) would certainly impart upon you. But it would not be easy. Once more, she was to be tested before God.
The kill begun as any good one did, with the hunt. She stalked him for what felt like months. Days melted into each other as she watched Jeff go about his day, flying his private plane down to the local cornerstore to spit on the poor and fly back to the supermarket contained entirely within his megamansion in the hills. It was repulsive.
She could take it no longer. She had to kill him NOW.
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She stalked through the halls of the skyscraper he owned but never worked in, searching for the gleam of his scalp under the burning overhead lights. He had come, sneering, through the rotating doors to sit in on meetings and hover in doorways. He walked the line between overbearing boss and untouchable divinity. But his time was up, she had killed many god-like men before.
He was waiting for her.
"Joan," he said pleasantly, which brought her up short, "I have a proposition."
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Joan stared at him, angered. "ta guele" she answered, it did not matter what language she spoke, because soon the man would be dead at her feet.
She heard the voice of god many times since she was a young girl, even hanging out with the big man upstairs when she was dead and in heaven. But this time, it was different. This time, she didn't know if she could win. Because she wasn't just fighting a man, she was battling the unending force known as capitalism.
That evil had not been known to her, as a child growing up at domremy la pucelle, she only knew of serfdom. But she could see clearly now that this evil was greater than anything she'd ever known. Even more evil than the british. She seized her spear, looking up to the sky in prayer as she raised it over her head. Her hands clung to the wooden shaft, sweaty with anticipation.
Finally, she swung the weapon empaling the horrible man in the throat and watching him bleed out.
Arthur thought he knew everything about humanity. Plus as a gay person, he prided himself to be the most knowledgeable about men especially. Yet when he saw a blue-eyed man who ALSO couldn't walk, he was shocked- How could one be so unloved by the red threads of fate to be simultaneously disabled AND cursed with blue shimmering orbs… The man,
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with his shiny, beautiful, sexy bald little head, was unfortunately irresistible. Blue orbs be damned.
They met as all good pairings of this kind do. No matter where you head, you will find a coffee shops. Yes, even in vaguely medieval fantasy settings. (See, Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldtree!) How Charles had found himself there, there's no way to tell. Probably some Otherworld bullshit. Blame Betsy Braddock.
Whatever it may be, Arthur could not tear his eyes as he strolled (rolled?) into the room with the grace of a man who really did NOT look as though he should have been born with blue orbs. Or natural blonde hair, for that matter. At the very least THAT ick had managed to fall away with the years.
It was fate. It had to be.
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There was no other option to explain this feeling which sprouted in Arthur's muscular chest. He wanted to say something, anything, but no word was coming out of his throat, his voice wholly stolen by the beautiful man.
The man who was looking at him, as if waiting for something.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?" he asked, trying to ignore his beating heart.
"I'm…looking. For someone," the man said, as if searching for the right words.
"Many people pass through here. Maybe whoever you're looking for has too. What's his name?"
Geralt observed the room, searching for his new informant. It's been a few days since he started tracking the one man who could tell him anything. According to his information, the man he was looking for had an intriguing sense of style, a strange accent and would break into song once in a while. He surely wasn't looking forward to the songs.
A man with chestnut tussled locks drew his eyes. He sat hunched at a table.
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The Witcher almost left out a grunt of exasperation. This man could either be the worst creature he had to face yet: a British man. British men were not to be confused with British women, who were, as everyone knew -especially the Dandelion- could be compared to goddesses of charisma. As for the British men… to explain it simply, they were the total opposite. A true failure of humanity with their pompous accent and malevolent rizz that could turn even the most thirsty of succubus.
But Geralt needed a contract. Needed the money to prepare for winter and so, he approached the monster, not without touching his
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sword, just in case (what did you think that was going to say, pervert?)
"'ello luv. lovely day 'ere having."
Geralt wanted to vomit.
"I'm looking for information."
"Well, for a lovely lady like yourself, anythin'"
He must have been drunk. VERY drunk. He started reaching for his guitar, so Geralt slapped his arm on the table to stop him.
"Cease, minstrel."
"Is that some kind of slur?"
"I do not care enough to call you a slur."
Harry looked away. Dejectedly.
"I like when men like you are a little mean."
Geralt had to admit, he had a soft spot for singing twinks of this kind. But he couldn't cave. Not here, not now. He had a job to do and he would do it, damn it.
i'm out of time uhhhh they bickered a bit more and then fucked. love is love gay rights happy pride
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Characters: UCD's very own Newman Building & Thomas the Tank Engine
Thomas sought purpose. He had spent what felt like eternity (which you could say the limbo of being a children's entertainment mascot is akin to) moving forward, forward, forward without any goal in mind. He needed somewhere to head to. A track to follow.
After soul-searching, Thomas finally understood - what he sought, was love.
But a train engine can't love a human. At the very least, Thomas was not interested in a human romance. So he wandered. He rode on and on, an ache in his heart. And after what felt like a thousand days and nights, he saw it.
UCD's very own Newman Building. Perhaps the most conventionally attractive building Thomas had ever glimpsed. And that's when he knew he had finally found something he could truly love.
But loving Newman would not be easy.
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It started with trying to strike up a conversation. Thomas was not used to saying much, and inside his blue metallic shape, there was little room for anything other than a simple hello.
But there was no reply. Only the wind around this striking, leaking building howled around to the accompaniment of seagull cries.
Newman stood, unmoving.
This made it even more alluring.
Thomas decided he would try a different tactic.
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They were many doors to the Newman Building yet Thomas knew only one could lead to the cold heart of his true love. After much pondering whether where he should start to make his entrance, he decided on an even bolder approach: drowning himself.
The cold water was… cold as fuck. This was clearly the worst idea and God knows he had been allowed many as a literal servant for kids all around the world. He could feel his wheels getting heavier, and his eyes were beginning to close when he felt it. Something, as light as a feather, stroked his grey face.
Forcing himself to open his eyes again, he saw no one else than Stacy, the messenger of Newman smiling at him. He knew he had succeeded
Aang looked around. Yes, this place would be perfect. His career as a travel writer had been short so far, but it had certainly kept him occupied since his defeat of Ozai. He was yet to find a place as unique as this one - The Isle of Berk.
Aang could see dragons flying from mountain top to mountain top, aiding the locals in their work. The locals themselves were more than happy to welcome an outsider, greeting him with wide smiles. But most of all, at the centre of the village, a young man named Hiccup, right around his age, awaited him to give him a proper tour of the strange Viking settlement.
Aang was beyond pleased. The next volume of his most recent travel book was shaping up to be something truly special.
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"Welcome to Berk." Hiccup proclaimed, probably having done this many times before. "Where dragons and people live in harmony and peace." as he finished the sentence, one of the houses went up in flames. Aang stared at the rising fire, dazed, quickly noting down the details in his notebook.
Hiccup winced and began leading him away from the burning house.
"Does this happen often?" Aang asked, fascinated. He clutched the pencil tightly, ready to note down everything his guide would say.
"We're…still getting used to the 'living in peace' part. But no one has bad intentions."
Aang nodded and quickly scribbled words into the notebook.
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"You know, i have some experience with peace making." He said, setting down his notebook to observe the other. "I also used to ride a dragon, in another lifetime."
The viking smiled at him nodding towards his own dragon, a night fury, Aang was told as he quickly filled in his notebook.
"Would you like to go on a ride with toothless?"
The avatar could barely contain his excitment, grinning widely as they set off.
Aang hadn't felt such a feeling of freedom since the genocide of his people, but up ther, in the sky, he coudle breathe again. The world seemed small, and the problems he used to have were even smaller.
Up there in the sky with Hiccup, everything was okay.
Characters: Percy Jackson & Link (Legend of Zelda)
He knew the man, somewhere deep down Link knew the blue-eyed individual standing in front of him, but he could not quite place where from. The other seemed to be of Zora descent, if the light scent of ocean that emanated from him was anything to go by.
"I'm Percy, who're you? You look familiar." The man-Percy-introduced himself.
And now of all time his voice was failing him, words stuck halfway through his throat and refusing to come out. He hated it, when all he felt able to say were grunts and huffs and shouts. But Percy seemed armed with all the patience in the world, looking at him with no hint of frustration nor annoyance.
And once more Link was hit by the realisation that he knew him
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from… somewhere. His orbs reminded him of something from long, long ago. A journey with Princess Zelda, perhaps? Could this "Percy" be someone he had once before saved?
"Hyah! Huah! Hyah!"
"What."
Right. Percy didn't seem to understand Link's very specific language. Gestures would have to do.
He pointed to Percy's head.
"Me?"
"Hyah!"
"Okay, me. You know me?"
Link responded with a very fitting thumbs-up.
"And I know you. Weird…"
Percy seemed to consider something. Link could already tell he would ask something stupid from that expression on his face.
And so they continued to rack their heads, until Link gasped. Yes! He remembered! He remembered where, but… How to communicate it to Percy ?!
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Taking some Korok seeds from his infinite sachel -- Link began to write out some Hylian on the ground, Percy's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment before understanding sparked behind them.
"Ancient Myths -- yes, that could be me. I'm a relation of sorts to the Greek gods. But where I recognise you from still escapes me." Link didn't personally know of these "Greek" that Percy had mentioned -- but Shigeru Miyamoto had shared a book with him once which had mentioned a figure matching Percy's likeness.
"Heuagh!" Link punched the air triumphantly. To finally have found a person he could connect with in this strange world. In a moment of flushed excitement -- he took out the Sheikah Slate and gestures toward Percy to take a photo together. Percy, in-turn, fishes a sleek device from his pocket to do the same.
The pair pose behind their respective devices -- and with a flash from both, they were returned to the realities from whence they came.
