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Were you trying to include any html other than italics or bold in your comment? Because another anon meme that I visit has it come on automatically with other html even though it's supposed to be off for anon comments.
This is so intense. I love the detailing of the ritual and how it works. This is all so... eeeee. :flails:
I was gigglesnorting, but I'm now braying with laughter!
I really love the way you explained how magic likes metaphor; it's absolutely intriguing and such a great way of expressing it. Kind of how magic, particularly when concerning immortals and such, doesn't view time the same way--and then, you had to make me love you even more with the 'princepin' joke.
I really hope that you're planning on finishing this. It's so amazing and I love Harry on edge and jumpy and Charity and Michael being protective is making me squee and Marcone--just Marcone! *love*
Hope to see more of this!
I really hope that you're planning on finishing this. It's so amazing and I love Harry on edge and jumpy and Charity and Michael being protective is making me squee and Marcone--just Marcone! *love*
Hope to see more of this!
Hmm... I'm not sure about that. Usually, when you have a soulgaze with someone, it "usually" only happens once unless something happened that changes either participants personality enough.
On the other hand, maybe this is a way to make the other characters and Harry wonder why didn't the soul gaze start? That's because they know each other already!
It could go either way. Which ever's better for the fic. :D
On the other hand, maybe this is a way to make the other characters and Harry wonder why didn't the soul gaze start? That's because they know each other already!
It could go either way. Which ever's better for the fic. :D
Yeah, it looks like this is a DW bug, though it's not in the bug tracker that I can find. Will bring it to appropriate attention. Thanks.
*stomps off with intent*
*stomps off with intent*
After staggering to bed late, I got woken up early by the ringing of my phone. I staggered into the living room, picked it up, and mumbled something resembling a greeting.
“Fix it,” said Sigrun Gard.
“Muh?”
“Whatever you have done to the pair of them. Undo it.”
“Gard?”
“I will not bear another day of sad-eyed mooning.”
“Mooning?” I spluttered, because I’d been reliably informed that 75 per cent of John’s work days involved boring business meetings, none of which sounded like it involved dropping trou and-
“Pining, Dresden. Heartfelt sighs and wistful expressions.”
“John and Hendricks? Sighing? Bullshit.”
“Close enough. Get your meddlesome self over here wizard, and fix what you have broken. Straining a friendship is an ugly thing.”
“I haven’t- ” I croaked, but I was speaking to the dialtone. Shit.
I did get over there. I got over there and into John’s office, and then pulled up short in the doorway. John was by the window, looking out at the street. Hendricks was at his desk, one hand above the keyboard but not typing, staring into the middle distance. They hadn’t even noticed me. Double shit. I cleared my throat. “Hi.”
John jerked his head round to look at me, half a second of surprise visible on his features. But I didn’t pay him any mind. I walked over to Hendricks instead, who was frowning at his keyboard like he could find the secret to life, the universe and everything hidden in the keys.
“It’s 42,” I told him. Hendricks looked up, and quashed something that had started to become a smile.
“Dresden. You want something?”
I did. Forgiveness, mostly. And maybe... something I wasn’t going to push for. But I’d asked Gard. I’d come prepared. “To apologise,” I told him, and set down a paper cup of overpriced coffee, and a bag containing a cinnamon roll. I thought back over the words I’d practiced. Overly formal, but I understood the power of ritual. “I beg pardon for my foolishness.”
Hendricks blinked down at his offerings, apparently too surprised to do anything about them. John wasn’t. He came over and flicked the bag open, and then looked between the two of us once more.
“Your favorites. Well. Are you absolutely sure there’s nothing I need to know here?”
I looked at Hendricks. Hendricks looked at me.
“Yes,” he said in a steady voice, and before I could wince at the continuing car crash of their personal relationship he continued, “absolutely nothing you need to know, but there’s something I want you to hear.” John nodded slowly.
“Lets have it.”
Hendricks laughed, but he didn’t sound amused. “Your boyfriend’s cute,” he said. I blinked. Marcone blinked. “You’re- ”
“Don’t say cute,” I yelped. “I told him he had pretty eyes once and he pinched me.”
“Handsome,” Hendricks revised. “Don’t worry yourself Dresden, I could take him.”
“So you could,” John said slowly. “I- Harry, you seem remarkably collected. I presume you knew?”
I eyed him. Blank-face didn’t bode well, but then it was Marcone’s default reaction to the unexpected. “Yeah. Are you freaking out?”
“No. I am, however, a little taken aback.” He looked at Hendricks. “You didn’t want to mention this earlier?”
“When? When you decided to take down Vargassi? To clear out the city? To turn the supernatural world on its head? When would’ve been a good time to distract you?”
“Now, apparently,” he said. He was fiddling with his cufflink, and I felt a little uneasy. John didn’t fiddle. He just. Didn’t.
Hendricks shrugged. “It was becoming a problem. If I’m gonna fuck up anyway through not telling you, might as well be honest.”
“Well. Thank you. For your honesty.”
“You’re welcome,” Hendricks said tightly, and looked back down at his keyboard.
“No!” I yelled, and they both looked at me, startled. “No. Gard will kill me, stop it, now.”
“Stop what, exactly?”
“Being stupid!” I yelled, and then pointed at Hendricks. “Rarer qualities, John! Remember?”
“Yes?” he said, at the same time Hendricks followed up with, “what?”
“Oh Stars,” I said, and looked between the two of them. “Right. I. Ok. Come here.”
I crooked a finger at Hendricks, who looked a question at John, who shrugged and looked at me. I crooked again. Hendricks stood, moved around the desk, and I ignored the instinct to step back as he stopped arm’s length away. Seriously, built like a tank. I held out a hand instead. Hendricks eyed it dubiously and I put on my best smile. “Come on, I’m cute remember? Hold my hand.”
“Harry- ” said John in a low tone.
“Shut up.” I wiggled my fingers at Hendricks. “Come on big guy.”
Hendricks reached out and fastened his grip around my fingers. He was staring over my shoulder the whole time, to where John stood. I reached behind me, flailed a little, and then found one of John’s hands and grabbed hold of it. “Ok,” I said. “I’d like to try something. And I’d appreciate it if everyone could take a raincheck on freaking out.”
They didn’t respond. I stepped forward, tugged Hendricks a little closer, and ducked my head. It was nothing. A chaste little brushing of lips, but John’s hand tightened on mine painfully, and Hendricks pretty much stopped breathing. I pulled back. “He look mad?” I asked lightly.
“More like he’s been electrocuted.”
“What are you- are we- Harry?”
“You broke him,” Hendricks said calmly. I looked over my shoulder. Yeah. I had.
“Fix it,” said Sigrun Gard.
“Muh?”
“Whatever you have done to the pair of them. Undo it.”
“Gard?”
“I will not bear another day of sad-eyed mooning.”
“Mooning?” I spluttered, because I’d been reliably informed that 75 per cent of John’s work days involved boring business meetings, none of which sounded like it involved dropping trou and-
“Pining, Dresden. Heartfelt sighs and wistful expressions.”
“John and Hendricks? Sighing? Bullshit.”
“Close enough. Get your meddlesome self over here wizard, and fix what you have broken. Straining a friendship is an ugly thing.”
“I haven’t- ” I croaked, but I was speaking to the dialtone. Shit.
I did get over there. I got over there and into John’s office, and then pulled up short in the doorway. John was by the window, looking out at the street. Hendricks was at his desk, one hand above the keyboard but not typing, staring into the middle distance. They hadn’t even noticed me. Double shit. I cleared my throat. “Hi.”
John jerked his head round to look at me, half a second of surprise visible on his features. But I didn’t pay him any mind. I walked over to Hendricks instead, who was frowning at his keyboard like he could find the secret to life, the universe and everything hidden in the keys.
“It’s 42,” I told him. Hendricks looked up, and quashed something that had started to become a smile.
“Dresden. You want something?”
I did. Forgiveness, mostly. And maybe... something I wasn’t going to push for. But I’d asked Gard. I’d come prepared. “To apologise,” I told him, and set down a paper cup of overpriced coffee, and a bag containing a cinnamon roll. I thought back over the words I’d practiced. Overly formal, but I understood the power of ritual. “I beg pardon for my foolishness.”
Hendricks blinked down at his offerings, apparently too surprised to do anything about them. John wasn’t. He came over and flicked the bag open, and then looked between the two of us once more.
“Your favorites. Well. Are you absolutely sure there’s nothing I need to know here?”
I looked at Hendricks. Hendricks looked at me.
“Yes,” he said in a steady voice, and before I could wince at the continuing car crash of their personal relationship he continued, “absolutely nothing you need to know, but there’s something I want you to hear.” John nodded slowly.
“Lets have it.”
Hendricks laughed, but he didn’t sound amused. “Your boyfriend’s cute,” he said. I blinked. Marcone blinked. “You’re- ”
“Don’t say cute,” I yelped. “I told him he had pretty eyes once and he pinched me.”
“Handsome,” Hendricks revised. “Don’t worry yourself Dresden, I could take him.”
“So you could,” John said slowly. “I- Harry, you seem remarkably collected. I presume you knew?”
I eyed him. Blank-face didn’t bode well, but then it was Marcone’s default reaction to the unexpected. “Yeah. Are you freaking out?”
“No. I am, however, a little taken aback.” He looked at Hendricks. “You didn’t want to mention this earlier?”
“When? When you decided to take down Vargassi? To clear out the city? To turn the supernatural world on its head? When would’ve been a good time to distract you?”
“Now, apparently,” he said. He was fiddling with his cufflink, and I felt a little uneasy. John didn’t fiddle. He just. Didn’t.
Hendricks shrugged. “It was becoming a problem. If I’m gonna fuck up anyway through not telling you, might as well be honest.”
“Well. Thank you. For your honesty.”
“You’re welcome,” Hendricks said tightly, and looked back down at his keyboard.
“No!” I yelled, and they both looked at me, startled. “No. Gard will kill me, stop it, now.”
“Stop what, exactly?”
“Being stupid!” I yelled, and then pointed at Hendricks. “Rarer qualities, John! Remember?”
“Yes?” he said, at the same time Hendricks followed up with, “what?”
“Oh Stars,” I said, and looked between the two of them. “Right. I. Ok. Come here.”
I crooked a finger at Hendricks, who looked a question at John, who shrugged and looked at me. I crooked again. Hendricks stood, moved around the desk, and I ignored the instinct to step back as he stopped arm’s length away. Seriously, built like a tank. I held out a hand instead. Hendricks eyed it dubiously and I put on my best smile. “Come on, I’m cute remember? Hold my hand.”
“Harry- ” said John in a low tone.
“Shut up.” I wiggled my fingers at Hendricks. “Come on big guy.”
Hendricks reached out and fastened his grip around my fingers. He was staring over my shoulder the whole time, to where John stood. I reached behind me, flailed a little, and then found one of John’s hands and grabbed hold of it. “Ok,” I said. “I’d like to try something. And I’d appreciate it if everyone could take a raincheck on freaking out.”
They didn’t respond. I stepped forward, tugged Hendricks a little closer, and ducked my head. It was nothing. A chaste little brushing of lips, but John’s hand tightened on mine painfully, and Hendricks pretty much stopped breathing. I pulled back. “He look mad?” I asked lightly.
“More like he’s been electrocuted.”
“What are you- are we- Harry?”
“You broke him,” Hendricks said calmly. I looked over my shoulder. Yeah. I had.
No, apparently it pops up again if you try to post with html tags. Which I do for fills, obviously, and the captcha is unusable. I'll talk to DW about it, someone'll fix. Nobody should mean nobody.
OH MY GOD. "Your boyfriend's cute." OH MY GOD.
:falls out of chair, giggling: HE'S CUTE.
:falls out of chair, giggling: HE'S CUTE.
Dear OP, I'd like to say that I valiantly resisted the urge to write this, but the powers of your prompt were stronger than my resolve...
~!~
I don’t remember when I started hearing his voice. I think it was shortly after I lost my father but I can’t be sure. Everything was a bit blurry - social service, orphanage, foster care… At first I heard just snatches and echoes of thoughts but gradually they resolved into questions and then into quiet words of consolation.
Looking back I see that they were just usual, standard phrases you say to the bereaved: “Everything’s gonna be okay”, “Don’t loose hope”, “Be strong, you’re a big boy”… But the sad thing was no one else bothered to say them to me and I was so pathetically grateful that someone still gave a damn that I didn’t care if it was just a voice in my head.
When I spoke about a friend who sometimes talked to me in my mind my first set of foster parents marched me straight to a shrink who spent half an hour explaining how that was perfectly normal for kids of my age especially after such a traumatic event as loss of a parent. So that was that; I was justified in having my very own imaginary friend and I intended to make the most of it.
Being the stupid selfish kid I never asked anything, only talked and talked about myself – the good times, the bad times, and the weird times that made my parents look at me funny and return me into the system. He always listened and made all the appropriate noises to keep me going. I was happy with it – where else would I find a person patient enough to listen to a six-year-old’s little woes? Eventually I started calling him Johnny even though I was reasonably sure his name was something else entirely.
When I was adopted by Justin DuMorne nothing really changed. I never told him about Johnny but it was mostly out of habit – no matter how many psychologists insist that imaginary friends are perfectly fine and you just need to let your kid grow out of it, grown ups still tended to treat it with suspicion. Again, looking back I think my mentor’s conclusions would have been vastly different from those of vanilla mortals but that doesn’t change the fact that I was glad I kept Johnny secret.
I had the impression that my friend didn’t believe me about magic. I guess these doubts were quite strange for a person living in my head but I always felt that he was humoring me when I started telling him about this new spell I’ve just learned. You know, like when the kid tells his mother that “really, there was a pink unicorn in our backyard”, and she answers “Of course, sweetie, should we leave it some carrots to snack on when it comes back?” . Anyway, he never outright said he didn’t believe me so I was not offended. Too much.
On the other hand Johnny was quite helpful with the tips on how to act around this one girl I’m living with. There is nothing embarrassing in talking these things out inside one’s head, right? And again, who else was I to turn to? DuMorne?
By the way, Justin was the reason of my only quarrel with Johnny. I liked Justin – he gave me a big house, a whole new world of magic and a playmate/girl I had a first crush on; what else could a boy want? But Johnny didn’t like him at all; almost from the beginning he cautioned me against my mentor, telling me I should be careful and ‘had he done anything funny to you?’. I could never be sure what he meant by funny and my stories about magic shield training with tennis balls didn’t seem to placate him in the least.
~!~
When it all went south Johnny was the first to notice. One night a voice in my head suddenly said: “You haven’t talked to me in a week. What is the matter? Did he do something funny to you?” And just like that all the Johnny memories that were mysteriously blocked before rushed back into my brain. My friend was definitely right this time, though I’m sure he didn’t suspect Justin of rearranging my mind. I even had time to thank him for the warning before the binding ritual started in earnest.
~!~
The next time I’ve heard his voice I was on my knees before the raging inferno that was DuMorne estate, frantically gulping air and coughing and still trying to wrap my mind around the deaths of my almost-father and the girl I loved. I heard Johnny as if from very far away… and could mental voices grow hoarse from shouting? Because his was, as if he called my name frantically for hours nonstop.
“Harry,” he kept saying, “Harry, talk to me. What’s going on? Are you all right? Harry!”
“I am…” I was going to say fine, but made a mistake of answering aloud and was gripped by a new coughing fit.
“What happened? Are you hurt? Talk to me!” His voice was authoritative but mostly it was just worried so I answered:
“I’m fine. Justin is dead.” I could have sworn John muttered good riddance under his non-existent breath. “Elaine too.” Stars, how those words hurt my throat, even though I didn’t use my vocal cords to say them!
There were no condolences this time.
“Where are you, Harry?” he asked. “Tell me the address, I’ll come and get you.”
There was nothing in that moment that I wanted more than for him to miraculously appear and take me away from all the horror and pain. The cruelty of it almost made me cry.
“It’s no use,” I muttered, “you are only inside my head. And even if you weren’t,” I continued over his protests, “I’ve broken the Law. There is nothing you can do to help me.” Johnny was busy talking about lawyers and child abuse and permissible self-defense but I saw what he didn’t – two men in gray cloaks coming to me through the smoke and ashes. How come they were quick to appear now when it was a helpless teenager who committed the crime, but they were suspiciously absent when a powerful wizard tried to turn his two apprentices into mindless slaves?
~!~
I was taken before the White Council just as they’ve found me – in torn and charred clothes, covered in soot, blood and tears (although the latter was hidden by a bag over my head). My grasp of Latin was tenuous at best (Justin always favored evocations over grammar) so I knew enough to make out my death sentence but not nearly enough to try and defend myself.
I was light-headed with terror and the only thing that grounded me in the blood-scented darkness of the bag was Johnny’s voice cursing steadily and without repetition. I guess I was even impressed with his vast knowledge of swear-words and imagination for different positions he proposed to put Council members in for trying a minor for crimes he committed to preserve his own life. But more than anything I was glad that in these last moments of my life I was not alone.
I can’t say who was more relieved when my sentence was changed to Doom of Damocles. Johnny breathed out some phase in Italian that mentioned Madre di Dio and was probably part of a prayer. “Never scare me like that again, Harry,” he added and went abruptly silent.
I think I could have justified his behavior as my own projected worry over impending death; and it is known that subconscious retains a lot of knowledge that is not generally accessible for the conscious mind. But on that day I started believing that Johnny was no just a figment of my imagination.
My friend was a real person and I was so grateful for his existence that the reason he could connect with me didn’t matter at all.
~!~
Now that I got at least a part of it off my chest I can finally go to sleep
I don’t remember when I started hearing his voice. I think it was shortly after I lost my father but I can’t be sure. Everything was a bit blurry - social service, orphanage, foster care… At first I heard just snatches and echoes of thoughts but gradually they resolved into questions and then into quiet words of consolation.
Looking back I see that they were just usual, standard phrases you say to the bereaved: “Everything’s gonna be okay”, “Don’t loose hope”, “Be strong, you’re a big boy”… But the sad thing was no one else bothered to say them to me and I was so pathetically grateful that someone still gave a damn that I didn’t care if it was just a voice in my head.
When I spoke about a friend who sometimes talked to me in my mind my first set of foster parents marched me straight to a shrink who spent half an hour explaining how that was perfectly normal for kids of my age especially after such a traumatic event as loss of a parent. So that was that; I was justified in having my very own imaginary friend and I intended to make the most of it.
Being the stupid selfish kid I never asked anything, only talked and talked about myself – the good times, the bad times, and the weird times that made my parents look at me funny and return me into the system. He always listened and made all the appropriate noises to keep me going. I was happy with it – where else would I find a person patient enough to listen to a six-year-old’s little woes? Eventually I started calling him Johnny even though I was reasonably sure his name was something else entirely.
When I was adopted by Justin DuMorne nothing really changed. I never told him about Johnny but it was mostly out of habit – no matter how many psychologists insist that imaginary friends are perfectly fine and you just need to let your kid grow out of it, grown ups still tended to treat it with suspicion. Again, looking back I think my mentor’s conclusions would have been vastly different from those of vanilla mortals but that doesn’t change the fact that I was glad I kept Johnny secret.
I had the impression that my friend didn’t believe me about magic. I guess these doubts were quite strange for a person living in my head but I always felt that he was humoring me when I started telling him about this new spell I’ve just learned. You know, like when the kid tells his mother that “really, there was a pink unicorn in our backyard”, and she answers “Of course, sweetie, should we leave it some carrots to snack on when it comes back?” . Anyway, he never outright said he didn’t believe me so I was not offended. Too much.
On the other hand Johnny was quite helpful with the tips on how to act around this one girl I’m living with. There is nothing embarrassing in talking these things out inside one’s head, right? And again, who else was I to turn to? DuMorne?
By the way, Justin was the reason of my only quarrel with Johnny. I liked Justin – he gave me a big house, a whole new world of magic and a playmate/girl I had a first crush on; what else could a boy want? But Johnny didn’t like him at all; almost from the beginning he cautioned me against my mentor, telling me I should be careful and ‘had he done anything funny to you?’. I could never be sure what he meant by funny and my stories about magic shield training with tennis balls didn’t seem to placate him in the least.
When it all went south Johnny was the first to notice. One night a voice in my head suddenly said: “You haven’t talked to me in a week. What is the matter? Did he do something funny to you?” And just like that all the Johnny memories that were mysteriously blocked before rushed back into my brain. My friend was definitely right this time, though I’m sure he didn’t suspect Justin of rearranging my mind. I even had time to thank him for the warning before the binding ritual started in earnest.
The next time I’ve heard his voice I was on my knees before the raging inferno that was DuMorne estate, frantically gulping air and coughing and still trying to wrap my mind around the deaths of my almost-father and the girl I loved. I heard Johnny as if from very far away… and could mental voices grow hoarse from shouting? Because his was, as if he called my name frantically for hours nonstop.
“Harry,” he kept saying, “Harry, talk to me. What’s going on? Are you all right? Harry!”
“I am…” I was going to say fine, but made a mistake of answering aloud and was gripped by a new coughing fit.
“What happened? Are you hurt? Talk to me!” His voice was authoritative but mostly it was just worried so I answered:
“I’m fine. Justin is dead.” I could have sworn John muttered good riddance under his non-existent breath. “Elaine too.” Stars, how those words hurt my throat, even though I didn’t use my vocal cords to say them!
There were no condolences this time.
“Where are you, Harry?” he asked. “Tell me the address, I’ll come and get you.”
There was nothing in that moment that I wanted more than for him to miraculously appear and take me away from all the horror and pain. The cruelty of it almost made me cry.
“It’s no use,” I muttered, “you are only inside my head. And even if you weren’t,” I continued over his protests, “I’ve broken the Law. There is nothing you can do to help me.” Johnny was busy talking about lawyers and child abuse and permissible self-defense but I saw what he didn’t – two men in gray cloaks coming to me through the smoke and ashes. How come they were quick to appear now when it was a helpless teenager who committed the crime, but they were suspiciously absent when a powerful wizard tried to turn his two apprentices into mindless slaves?
I was taken before the White Council just as they’ve found me – in torn and charred clothes, covered in soot, blood and tears (although the latter was hidden by a bag over my head). My grasp of Latin was tenuous at best (Justin always favored evocations over grammar) so I knew enough to make out my death sentence but not nearly enough to try and defend myself.
I was light-headed with terror and the only thing that grounded me in the blood-scented darkness of the bag was Johnny’s voice cursing steadily and without repetition. I guess I was even impressed with his vast knowledge of swear-words and imagination for different positions he proposed to put Council members in for trying a minor for crimes he committed to preserve his own life. But more than anything I was glad that in these last moments of my life I was not alone.
I can’t say who was more relieved when my sentence was changed to Doom of Damocles. Johnny breathed out some phase in Italian that mentioned Madre di Dio and was probably part of a prayer. “Never scare me like that again, Harry,” he added and went abruptly silent.
I think I could have justified his behavior as my own projected worry over impending death; and it is known that subconscious retains a lot of knowledge that is not generally accessible for the conscious mind. But on that day I started believing that Johnny was no just a figment of my imagination.
My friend was a real person and I was so grateful for his existence that the reason he could connect with me didn’t matter at all.
Now that I got at least a part of it off my chest I can finally go to sleep
Anyone/Dresden
Despite the fact that whenever someone thinks of Dresden, fire and explosives do come to mind, Harry's not all about destruction and racking up insurance rates.
There are various scenes in the book where Harry describes magic as a pure and powerful force.
I would like to read scenes where Harry uses magic for playful things like manipulating origami figures or wind to make paper butterflys fly. Stuff that are fun for entertaining kids or relaxing. Maybe trying to gain better control over the elements like making flowers grow or trying to get the water to form intrigate shapes.
Whatever you can come up with. Sexing up is optional. :D
Despite the fact that whenever someone thinks of Dresden, fire and explosives do come to mind, Harry's not all about destruction and racking up insurance rates.
There are various scenes in the book where Harry describes magic as a pure and powerful force.
I would like to read scenes where Harry uses magic for playful things like manipulating origami figures or wind to make paper butterflys fly. Stuff that are fun for entertaining kids or relaxing. Maybe trying to gain better control over the elements like making flowers grow or trying to get the water to form intrigate shapes.
Whatever you can come up with. Sexing up is optional. :D
You know what this reminds me of? Catching/folding sunshine. I think somewhere in the book that this can't be done unless you're happy - probably when he's pulling that last piece of sunshine down when preparing to see Bianca. That strikes me as a time he would have mentioned it. And in order to be happy, Harry would have to be doing something to be happy, right?
So yeah. Catching sunshine seems to fit in here too. :)
Wonderful prompt. Seconded!! :)
So yeah. Catching sunshine seems to fit in here too. :)
Wonderful prompt. Seconded!! :)
Deep down, Harry's thinking, "bitch, plz, I'm adorable"
OP totally agrees - Harry is simply adorable, in his own way.
And I'm going to say he was too worried about what Hendricks might say about John to worry about being called "cute." Which was a totally awesome and sneaky way to get him to not object.
It also let him use it again later. I love that "hey, you said you think I'm cute, you should totally listen to me." :)
And I'm going to say he was too worried about what Hendricks might say about John to worry about being called "cute." Which was a totally awesome and sneaky way to get him to not object.
It also let him use it again later. I love that "hey, you said you think I'm cute, you should totally listen to me." :)
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
I don't think I'm gonna get any more coherent than that. This just... it just makes me so gleeful, all right?
I don't think I'm gonna get any more coherent than that. This just... it just makes me so gleeful, all right?
OP again! :)
I just want to say, again, how much I love this. You've made this prompt *fun*, which is something I think Harry doesn't see enough of.
Gard butting in had me grinning - it says a lot about how distracted the two of them are when Gard has to interfere!
"42." Hitchhiker's Reference? You have my love. More of my love. If that's possible.
And the end? Breaking Gentleman Johnny Marcone? There might be thugs on the street that say it cannot be done, but I have seen it and you have made it happen, and it fills me with so much joy.
....and I'm going to stop there, because if I was going to say all my favorite parts, I'd be quoting the whole thing back to you.
Can't wait to see more! :)
I just want to say, again, how much I love this. You've made this prompt *fun*, which is something I think Harry doesn't see enough of.
Gard butting in had me grinning - it says a lot about how distracted the two of them are when Gard has to interfere!
"42." Hitchhiker's Reference? You have my love. More of my love. If that's possible.
And the end? Breaking Gentleman Johnny Marcone? There might be thugs on the street that say it cannot be done, but I have seen it and you have made it happen, and it fills me with so much joy.
....and I'm going to stop there, because if I was going to say all my favorite parts, I'd be quoting the whole thing back to you.
Can't wait to see more! :)
...aaaand I suddenly want to see Harry and Eliot growing up in the same orphanage a la Harry and Hendricks in Caretaker. Which I greatly miss. Or maybe Parker, and one of the reasons she's so odd is cause she KNOWS the world is a stranger place than it might oughta be...
:) There is not enough of this in the world.
Srsly, though, I hadn't even thought of this pairing until this meme. And now I can't get them out of my head and I just want MORE.
Srsly, though, I hadn't even thought of this pairing until this meme. And now I can't get them out of my head and I just want MORE.
Well that is a releif. Was getting worried I did something wrong.
*nod*
The idea of a Harry actually fanboying on a Marcone is hilarious and awesome.
Oh, something that just cross my mind.
Is John Marcone his 'hero' name or civilian's name(if this, does he use the name Batman or...?)?
And should this Chicago(at least that where I'm guessing Marcone would be at.) be as fucked up as Gotham City? or should it actually BE Gotham City?
FFFF. The thought of Marco!Joker having the control of the mafia just cross my mind. D: *try not to whimper*
The idea of a Harry actually fanboying on a Marcone is hilarious and awesome.
Oh, something that just cross my mind.
Is John Marcone his 'hero' name or civilian's name(if this, does he use the name Batman or...?)?
And should this Chicago(at least that where I'm guessing Marcone would be at.) be as fucked up as Gotham City? or should it actually BE Gotham City?
FFFF. The thought of Marco!Joker having the control of the mafia just cross my mind. D: *try not to whimper*
AHAHAHAHAHA oh god John getting broken by Harry kissing Hendricks? Is pure and utter golden win.
Heeee, Harry is cute.
GARD! :D She is so awesome.
Heeee, Harry is cute.
GARD! :D She is so awesome.
“You broke him,” Hendricks said calmly. I looked over my shoulder. Yeah. I had.
Eeeeeeeee!
And yes, in my experience, when you deal with your boyfriend being stupid and piiiiiiining for some guy who is piiiiiiining for your boyfriend by kissing Other Guy in front of boyfriend, it does result in breakage. Of the good sort. And now you've made me all nostalgic for college.
Eeeeeeeee!
And yes, in my experience, when you deal with your boyfriend being stupid and piiiiiiining for some guy who is piiiiiiining for your boyfriend by kissing Other Guy in front of boyfriend, it does result in breakage. Of the good sort. And now you've made me all nostalgic for college.
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