#YOU JUST RUINED A PERFECTLY GOOD ALCHEMIST IS WHAT YOU DID

[beevean]

The Devil Forgemasters in Netflixvania: why you shouldn't fix what is broken

I have a lot to say about how the show completely ruined Hector and Isaac, as characters and thematically. Adding more and more to the original post about how the changes made to Dracula and the Belmonts ruin the story would derail it more than I'd like to, so take this as some sort of lateral continuation.

Devil Forging is not tied to Dracula.

This is, admittedly, an obscure detail that not even many game fans know, but it's a good starting point.

Devil Forging (Japanese: 悪魔精錬術, Art of Devil Refining) is described to be a blasphemous branch of alchemy that creates life out of a wisp of conjuring matter. While it's ambiguous whether Hector and Isaac are the only Devil Forgemasters in the world or simply the most talented ones, it has been confirmed that they were infused with Dracula's own power to become Forgemasters.

Igarashi said it in a pre-release interview of the game...

"Innocent Devils are created out of strong magical essence. Previously when Hector was part of Dracula's army, Dracula himself provided that magical essence, so it was easy to create Innocent Devils..."

It was shown in a page of Prelude to Revenge...

And Death's entire plan in Curse of Darkness hinges on both Hector and Isaac being "suffused" with his master's power, making them the perfect vessels for his resurrection.

In the show, Devil Forging (or just Forging) is nothing of the sort. Forgemasters create Night Creatures by putting souls from Hell into recently dead, intact corpses. Hector in particular knew how to resurrect creatures in a zombie state since he was a child. Neither him nor Isaac, who studied by himself, needed Dracula to become Forgemasters: he met them when they were already adults and well-versed in dark arts.

This, on its own, doesn't ruin the story much: it's not a big deal if Devil Forging is changed from alchemy to necromancy, especially since this Dracula didn't use to be the alchemist Mathias Cronqvist. I also don't mind in a vacuum that the art has more limitations, like needing fresh corpses or tools. But, much like removing any hint that Lament of Innocence happened, it spirals into worse and worse consequences.

There is, however, something that can be mentioned here. The show makes a frequent point, through Carmilla, Lenore and the Captain, that Dracula might have planned to kill Hector and Isaac together with all the humans: Isaac accepted this fate and for this reason refused to befriend Hector, Hector could be manipulated at the other vampires' leisure. This conflict wouldn't have existed if Isaac and Hector trusted Dracula with their lives, as in, if he was the one who "made" them as they were: in fact, a big deal is made out of the Devil Forgemasters' humanity. I will elaborate more on the details next.

Dracula hired Hector and Isaac shortly after Lisa was killed.

In the prequels, Hector and Isaac went to knock to Dracula's door out of desperation (in one version when they were young boys), because there was no other place in the world for them. Dracula welcomed them and taught them the dark arts, on the condition that they would serve him, which they did out of gratitude for being allowed to live. Their talent was enough to earn them the titles of Devil Forgemasters and Generals. Their loyalty was then put to the test after Lisa's death, when Dracula used their powers to make an army to crush humanity with: Isaac was perfectly fine with it, Hector had reservations.

The wording implies that Hector was shocked by Dracula's descent into madness. One can even read his "indiscriminately" as a hint that at first Hector was also alright with punishing the guilty, but then had second thoughts the moment he realized Dracula's slaughter was beyond reason.

Only bits and pieces of all of this was kept in the show. As I mentioned, Dracula met the two when they were already adults and hermits, one in Rhodes and the other in the Sahara, and the two were impressed by how Dracula was the first one who treated them with kindness. Then he returned to them after Lisa's death, more or less telling both of them "I need you to exterminate the human race". Isaac was, again, up to it, while Hector had to be convinced with a lie: Dracula promised to him a compromise, that of culling the human race and using it as livestock. Then, he took them to his castle and immediately promoted them to Generals, because he trusted them as humans against humanity.

Why does it matter? Hector started off with all the building blocks to go through a similar character arc he goes through in the CoD prequels, but he's turned into a less sympathetic character, as he was on board with turning humans into cattle from the get go. An anti-villain who'd enslave his own kind out of a misguided sense of mercy needs a carefully woven narrative to justify, and possibly redeem. We all know what happened to him.

To be fair, the story wasting Hector is not the fault of the lore changes, so there's no point in elaborating here. I will mention, however, that some fans genuinely believe Hector deserved to be enslaved and raped precisely because of his original plan, which makes the narrative even grosser.

Why does it matter? 2: Hector not feeling grateful for Dracula giving him a home, because their relationship is now more shallow and cheaper, makes him weaker to Carmilla's and Lenore's manipulations: game Hector, pre-character development, would have had the right counterarguments against them, and he would have come off as less passive.

Why does it matter? 3: Hector and Isaac only worked under Dracula for a year, and they're already called Generals. In the prequels, it's implied they spent years studying under him and gaining experience, both in the alchemy lab and in the battlefield, which is why they're called Generals in the first place (unlike the show version, who allegedly aren't even physical fighters). While Dracula explains that he trusts them due to being humans willing to exterminate other humans, it's questionable that Dracula would trust their qualifications so much; this is made even worse by the fact that Hector was "hired" thanks to a lie. Their importance and talent are diminished, and Dracula comes off as more impulsive and less caring of those he trusts.

(and while this is more minor, Dracula, who in this version is meant to be more sympathetic, looks like more of a bastard for leaving Hector and Isaac in their isolated homes until he had a need for them. The story could have put Isaac through a character arc where he realized that his "friend" only saw him as a tool and discarded him as such, but nothing comes from it.)

Neither Dracula nor Isaac respect Hector.

In the games, Dracula respected both Hector and Isaac as his trusted Generals, but he favored Hector, which caused Isaac not a small amount of grief. Isaac himself was torn between respecting Hector as a friend and comrade and resenting him for "getting closer to Lord Dracula". In any case, it's obvious that both of them had a role in Dracula's court, it just happened that Hector was more talented than Isaac.

Before talking about the show, it's necessary to talk about the stats sheets that came out with Season 2, that implied that Hector and Isaac were meant to be both physically weak, with the former slightly stronger and more powerful in "necromancing" than the latter. This implies that the original idea was more in line with the games, with Hector being more talented than Isaac: this would have explained why Dracula resorted to lie to him to hire him.

But this, for whatever reason, was not kept at all. Not only the two are roughly on the same level of raw power; not only Isaac eventually is shown to be a menace in battle; but Dracula and Isaac have nothing but contempt for Hector as a person. They insult him gratuituously, calling him "a child in a man's body", "just a little boy", "a creature too simple for betrayal", "easy to lie to", and making fun of his love for animals. Furthermore, Isaac in particular says that he never cared to befriend Hector because he assumed, and accepted, that both of them will eventually die at Dracula's hands, so there was no point in forming a connection - but it could have been just an excuse because it's clear that he simply cannot stand him.

This is not just petty bullying, it's baffling writing.

Why does it matter?: this Hector should not even be in the castle, let alone with an important role like a General of Dracula's army. If Forging is a branch of magic well known in certain circles, unrelated to Dracula, why couldn't he attempt to find another one that would be on board with his plan? Especially since it seems to be common to shun them for their blasphemous powers, so there has to be another Forgemaster with a chip on their shoulder that wouldn't need to be manipulated.

Hector is kept in the dark about Dracula's real plan. He is considered so stupid that anyone could sway him. He yells in the middle of the war room that he doesn't enjoy paddling in the blood of children, confirming that he doesn't want to target innocents. He is also not special compared to Isaac, who is also shown to be quicker in Forging and capable in fighting. Hector is nothing short of a liability for Dracula, and it's all his fault for not realizing how much of a detriment hiring a naive "manchild" for a plan that goes against his very morals would eventually become.

But then again, Dracula in the show seems to like having liabilities in his castle.

Hector did not challenge Dracula of his own volition.

While the details are unclear and can only be inferred, it is pivotal that, at some point, Hector decided that he couldn't be an instrument of slaughter. He may have come to this conclusion out of principles (PtR) or out of pride for his own humanity (MF manga), but what matters is that he decided that he would rather flee to live in the human world that rejected him than to keep living in Dracula's castle where he was respected as a Devil Forgemaster but not as a person.

Hector's choice to run away in search of freedom, while understandable and admirable, has terrible consequences on Isaac, his foil and rival. He had to leave the castle to pursue the traitor: the two fought, and Isaac lost. Not only Hector left him alive instead of mercy killing him, letting the failure soak in, but thanks to their absence from the castle, Trevor and his companions had less obstacles to overcome, so they managed to reach Dracula and kill him. Isaac was beyond furious at Hector's betrayal: not only the rival he respected turned his back on both him and their Lord, but with one act, he stripped Isaac of everything he held dear in his life, from his position to the Lord who accepted him to his very home. Thus, the tragic cycle of revenge the two get stuck in during the game.

In the show, the real agent of S2 is Carmilla. She is the one who has decided that Dracula is an insane old man and she has to stop his insane plan (because it would harm vampires in the long run, of course). Her plan is to manipulate Hector into convincing him to convince Dracula to move the castle at Braila, all while praising his skills and reassuring she only wants to save his life from Dracula's insanity. Hector, who already had doubts, easily goes along with Carmilla's will, and by the time she reveals she disdains him as well, he doesn't have the strength to rebel, which leads to his beating and imprisonment in S3.

Why does it matter?: the most important theme of Hector's character is him gaining agency and choosing to amend his mistakes by being a better person than those around him. He is meant to be a parallel to Isaac (who close loyalty over freedom and couldn't rise above his bitterness and anger), Alucard (who is burdened by his family, not his wrong choices) and Dracula himself (who lost his heart out of grief and, like Isaac, kept spiraling downwards). Stripping him of his thematic relevance leaves Hector with nothing to his name: while Hector is canonically someone who clings in search of affection, the show takes this trait to absurd and frankly humiliating degrees.

Contrast the climax of game Hector's character arc of facing his former benefactor, telling him he has no right to judge mankind, and swearing that this time he will fight him face to face instead of running away:

with the climax of show Hector's character arc of protecting the woman who abused him, gaslighted him, raped him through deception, imprisoned him, never once respected him as a person and put a cursed ring on him that forced him to mutilate his own hand to break free, and then allowing her to die on her own terms so that she won't have to face the consequences of her actions, crawling back to her (and Dracula! He wanted Dracula back after everything he had done!) because up until the end, he never acknowledged the fatal flaw of weakmindness and insecurity that led him to being tortured in all sorts of ways.

(Isaac telling us that "he changed" is the biggest lie of the show. "He never had agency", he also says, and not only that is true, it keeps being true until the end of the show, in the face of any character development.)

Hector's character is much more than being a generic badass: he is meant to be an inspiration to not falter and succumb to your weaknesses because you are valuable as a person and human, regardless of how others see you. Even if you make mistakes, you can choose to become a better person, and you can find people who love you for who you are. It is incomprehensible how much his show's counterpart ends up promoting the complete opposite message.

Why does it matter? 2: while the story beats the viewer over the head that Hector is a simpleminded manchild, Dracula and Isaac actually look like the biggest idiots in the castle. Carmilla makes clear from her entrance that she has no respect for Dracula and would rather do as she pleases, yet Dracula keeps her alive, allowing her to talk with the "manchild easy to lie to", and Isaac flippantly agrees to her plan to "stop her from causing mischief". Hector gets all the blame for his naiveté and is punished beyond measure, while the other two gets off scot free from their plot-mandated stupidity. It's one thing when in the mangas Dracula and Isaac trusted Hector and thus were left blindsided by his betrayal: they have absolutely zero reason to leave Carmilla alive, let alone trust her.

Why does it matter? 3: Isaac has no solid reason to resent Hector. The two have no connection whatsoever, Carmilla is clearly the one in charge, Isaac sees Trevor, Sypha and Alucard storming the castle with his own eyes, and he was also partially responsible for Carmilla betraying Dracula. He never feels guilty for his negligence in recognizing her as a threat or Hector as someone capable of betrayal. His glee at seeing Hector suffering and his desire to kill him are far less motivated, impactful and tragic. It also comes as a slap in the face that in S4 he "forgives" Hector for lacking agency, without a word about his blind loyalty and stubbornness that nothing could harm his Lord.

Addendum: this is a smaller point related to the previous one, but I feel the need to mention it: there is a very big difference between an insane, ruined Isaac spying on a happy Hector from the shadows, plotting his downfall, and a gleeful Isaac spying on a tortured Hector and rejoicing in his suffering. The former creates palpable tension, because we are rooting for Hector's new happy life, and Isaac ruining it cements him as a despicable and threatening villain; when Isaac in the show is glad to see Hector in pain but still wants to kill him, it has no impact because everyone wants to see Hector suffer, and by that point, killing him would have been a mercy. Once again, it only feels spiteful and kicking someone when he's down.

Isaac and Hector swapped places without reason.

This is by far the most unpopular opinion and perhaps the most biased, but it has to be included.

Isaac in the games had a very specific role of being Hector's foil. He was the loyalty to Hector's pride, he saw himself as a tool while Hector recognized his own humanity, he succumbed to his own hatred while Hector eventually rose above it. He has a negative character arc, becoming more and more obsessed, unhinged and destructive from the prequels until the end of the game where he meets his tragic end, both puppeteer and puppet - his sister Julia is proof that he too had people who cared about him and he cared about, but it was not enough against Dracula's influence. Even his design tells us a lot about him: not only he let his uniform rot off his body in his insanity, but the intricate tattoos on his body can be seen as proof of how far he'd twist himself to show loyalty to his Lord.

While it's not necessary to recreate 1:1 his story in the show, it is immensely frustrating that show Isaac pretty much stole what should have been Hector's arc, leaving him with a flat arc that can be vaguely read as "forgive your abusers if they're sad enough".

It's not just about Hector, though. Show Isaac comes off as a worse version of both characters. I have already explained how in S2 he comes off as more negligent and thus less sympathetic than game Isaac in similar circumstances. S3 and 4, combined, should be about him travelling around, meeting new people and slowly realizing that he can be more than Dracula's right hand because not all humans are rotten to the core. In practice, show Isaac spends the majority of S3 causing much more reckless havoc than game Isaac, targeting people who merely dared to stop a dark wizard from invading their towns, flip-flopping between "maybe humans can be good" to "nevermind you are all rude and deserve to be used by me as demons", until in S4 he suddenly has the realization that he enjoys having agency and would rather build a better world (which includes killing people for "just" reasons); it's almost like the arc game Hector went through in the manga, except we actually see him trying to atone for his past sins, acknowledging that his dark past makes him hateable, and genuinely reforming thanks to Rosaly's influence.

Why does it matter?: Isaac is nowhere near as sympathetic as the show wants him to be, and his arc is shallow, rushed and generic. This is because he switches between two different characters with little buildup.

Why does it matter? 2: Hector and Isaac were meant to be foils in everything, from designs to personalities to arcs. They make each other stronger as characters. In the show, they have no thematic relevance, and the only contrast is that Isaac keeps getting what he wants while Hector keeps getting tormented and humiliated, not for a good narrative reason but out of petty favoritism and spite respectively. It makes their reunion in S4 ring hollow, because, much like the three protagonists, the two didn't have a relationship in the first place to make their mutual forgiveness poignant.

Bonus: the uniforms.

This is the hill I will die on: Hector and Isaac's designs in the games are crucial to the understanding of the characters, and the way the characters were redesigned in the show makes no sense.

In Prelude to Revenge, we see the Devil Forgemasters' full uniforms:

They wear a big, dark cassock with a sash, that makes the both of them look like priests, and bat-shaped chest armor bearing the crest of their position. As we know, Isaac also went so far as embedding that crest on his back, signifying how devoted he is.

After the events of the prequel and during the game proper, their outfit changes. Hector wears what we can assume are the clothes underneath the cassock, haphazardly stitched back together, but keeping the sash (now with Rosaly's ribbon tied around it) and the chest armor, symbolizing how he's forced to face his past again to avenge his wife. This outfit is also designed for running and combat, as shown by the one glove and the arm guard.

Isaac, on the other hand, is unrecognizeable. After three years of rotting in the ruins of the castle, the uniform fell off his body, and he did not bother to fix it. He only modified the chest armor, making it smaller and creating chains, shoulder pauldrons and a collar to keep it on his body. It is meant to contrast his previously put-together design, and convey that Isaac's sanity is as gone as his clothes. Furthermore, he is flaunting the tattoos that symbolize his utter devotion and belonging to Dracula.

In short, Hector and Isaac started from a similar place, but they diverged to very different paths.

This, on the other hand, is nothing short of lazy.

There is no explanation as to why they wear different uniforms. There is no color coordination, no red/blue motif in their clothes. There is no reason Isaac wears a dark priestly uniform while Hector still looks combat ready when he's only a smith (wouldn't the arm guard get in the way?). Hector is shown wearing a red sash ever since he was a child, which doesn't explain why it's included in Isaac's uniform as well. Even the crest on the armor looks different:

There was no thought put in any of this, it was all sloppily stolen from the fandom wiki, and once again, it ruins the carefully woven connection between the two characters.

Hector and Isaac's story was airtight, with just enough room for speculation but enough material to get invested in, emotional, a great example of tragedy, and every choice was made for a reason. It was a story of revenge on the surface, but it also tackled quite well, despite its limitations, themes of humanity and agency and freedom. The writing in the show is not only sloppy and more shallow, but it accidentally promotes terrible themes in its misanthropy, cruelty, and lack of care regarding abuse and trauma.

[yourlilkaiju]

So I Like to Write Fanfic:

Yes, I am sure that a bunch of you are perfectly aware of those of use who like to write fanfiction. In Tumblr land, it's not an uncommon topic. I am a monsterhugger (reminder: younguns). So I need my practice for when I add a chapter for original works. I get embarrassed about the things I write frequently. And I also take self criticism in the form of "did I really fucking write that?". And it's not in a good way. I even have a book published....I have a book published. Its not my best. Its not what I would call my all. That is my baby work. And whenever I look at it on Amazon, it is not something I look upon and think "Hey guys, look what I did!". Its more of a...well...this gif...

Get the message?

Yes?

Moving on.

So my first fanfiction was a bust. And was essentially posted on this one website called quizzilla. There were a whole lot of Disney references and I even recall making an Aladdin reference in one of the chapters. For example my character ended up jumping into a lake with the dude because of fanboys and the guy because of fangirls. 🙄 Had to push the straight narrative, because being gay on the open Internet was kind of taboo. And being queer in a conservative household with bioscum? Also not allowed. And the deal with it is, these assholes are pretty abusive in the fact that I was not only born out of wedlock, but I was born a girl. It's kind of a cultural thing. There was gonna be a boy that came with me but then there's this whole story and that one gets kind of messy and it just ruins the whole post.

Anyway.

I coped using fanfiction.

Originally, Naruto fanfiction. And Final Fantasy and Kingdom Hearts Fanfiction.

I was obsessed.

But you know I also wrote Fullmetal Alchemist and Gundam and other types of fanfiction, and even continued this until Quizzilla kind of stopped being a thing in 2014. Now we have Archive of Our Own, what remains of Fanfiction (dot) Net and Wattpad. And two of those I actually like. (Not you, FF. You don't like the Schnuschnu and you make others avoid the Schnuschnu.)

Now back to our scheduled programming.

I coped using fanfiction and frequently used art within that fanfiction. Activities like fanfiction actually helped me get through some difficult times in my life. Like when I was going through an extremely abusive relationship and pregnant with another dudes child at seventeen. And as time went on it just helped me with my every day. It even helps me now. My new interests, are just my hero academia and some others, because they actually helped me get through the Pandemic. I even have an AO3....

I should probably get a Wattpad, though.

What about you guys?

Do you have anything that you like to write about?

[poorlydrawnedwardelric]

Which Edward are you, have you met the others and if not what will you do

please don’t give the alchemist a mid-life crisis at age 15

[thatringboy]

Me to me: Nooo don’t make an Inazuman oc you already have two OCs from Liyue and Natlan who you said you’d revamp and besides, you’re probably going to lose interest in this one soon Also Me, getting way to invested in Inazuma lore: HEY EVERYONE COME MEET MY NEW OC HIIRAGI YORICHI, A HYDRO SWORD USER WHO’S AUTISTIC LIKE ME

Link to picrew used for profile

Buried Beauty

“My duty is first to the people of my homeland, then the Kanjou Commission. Make no mistake, Baal must be stopped, but not at the expense of the people.”

The firstborn son of the Hiiragi Clan who’s name means “first gift”. He grew up in Sumeru Academy, but has returned to Ritou to take up his father’s yoke over the Kanjou Commission

General Information

Name: Hiiragi Yorichi

Age: 28

Affiliation: Hiiragi Clan

Birthdate: January 17

Starsign: Capricorn

Constellation: Thesauros Sepultus

Weapon: Sword

Vision: Hydro

Voice Claims

CVA: Zhang Jie

JVA: Tasuku Hatanaka

EVA: Kyle Phillips

Voice Lines

Good Morning: Hmm? Oh, yes, greetings Traveler and Paimon. Sorry, I didn’t see you there… I’m not much of a morning person

Good Afternoon: Did I miss lunch again? Eh, oh well. Traveler, wanna run by Miss Ryouko’s to get some food?

Good Evening: If I don’t get back soon, Chisato will certainly send someone out to find me

Good Night: Can you get back on your own? I’m afraid that I must return to Ritou for the evening

When It Rains: Quickly! The rain will cover our tracks!

When It Snows: Huh? Wow it got cold fast! Better go find some shelter before I accidentally freeze us

When It’s Sunny: Be careful, our enemies can see clearly in broad daylight

Favorite Food: Mmm, I could go for some Mondstat Grilled Fish right about now… I had it once during their Ludi Harpastum Festival that my Senpai took me to one year and I’ve just fallen in love with the flavour!

Least Favorite Food: Is… is that cabbage? No no, there’s nothing wrong, just don’t expect me to eat any. Why? Well… I don’t like the texture at all! Eating it feels like slime going down my throat which closes up my airways and then that sensation makes my brain feel like someone shoved a wet blanket between my ears and wrapped it around my brain! Please… never make me eat cabbage…

About: Vision: My Vision? How did I get mine? Well, since you asked so nicely, it appeared to me in a dream during the end of the first year of the Sakoku Decree. I had cried myself to sleep because of the anguish I felt coming from those who had their Visions stolen - those who I had sworn to protect as a Clan Heir - and I cursed out Celestia for allowing this to happen. In my dream, I appeared before seven giant thrones all glowing with elemental magic. In the blue throne sat a woman who gave off so much power that I could not gaze upon her. Yet, her words always resonate in my heart: “Your loyalties may change, but never change your principles. Do no harm to others, but do not let harm fall upon you and those you love.” When I woke up, the Vision was tucked under my pillow!

About: Kanjou Commission: One day, it will be my duty to oversee the Kanjou Commission. Am I ready? Probably not. Do I have a choice? Also no. I just want to make everyone proud… but how can I do that when father has already deemed me an embarrassment to the Hiiragi Clan simply because of who I am?

About: Sumeru Academy: The Academy? I grew up there! Fourteen years I spent roaming the halls absorbing all of the knowledge I could! *Sigh*… maybe if the Travel Ban gets lifted, I’ll show you around my old stomping grounds!

About: Ritou: I’m friends with some of the guys at the Outlander’s Trade Association. What do you wish to see? Want to head by a jewelry shop? Get some food?

About: Interests: Wanna know a secret? Deep down, I’m an alchemist at heart! Anything alchemy related, I’m sure I can be of use! It’s my special interest! Did you know that the luminescent spines of a firefly can—wait wait no I’m sorry. Father says that people get bored of my ramblings, my apologies for wasting your time…

About: Swords: You may have noticed that my sword technique is different from the samurai of Inazuma. That is because I learned how to use my blade at the Academy. I forged this blade myself when I turned twenty. Would you like to hold it?

About Ayaka: Miss Kamisato? I’ve met her once and she seems nice, but I still feel uneasy around her. But maybe that’s just me

About Raiden Shogun: You want to know why I refer to the Shogun as “Baal”? Well, that’s because I didn’t grow up in a place that calls her the “Raiden Shogun”. I’m used to my peers referring to her as “Baal” and I’ve yet to drop the habit. Also, I don’t have much respect for her, but don’t tell anyone that

About Ayato: Never met him, but his description gives me the creeps! Never appears in public, leaving his little sister to do all the work? The nerve of that guy! O-oh… that sounds like me? Ehe-he… oops

About Yoimiya: Oh Miss Naganohara! She makes the best fireworks! She and I are actually a lot alike. What, you don’t see it? I guess that comes from me spending a lifetime hiding my inner enthusiasm while she never quite grew up. We should go to the next firework festival to see her, I’m sure she’d love that! But… from a distance please. The popping noises from the fireworks hurt my ears

About Kaeya: The Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, huh? I’m curious to see how the pieces fall into place… what was that? Oh, it’s nothing… just gossip from some old colleagues

About Diluc: Diluc? Who’s that? Owner of the Dawn Winery? The Ragnvindr Clan? Nope, doesn’t ring a bell. The Darknight Hero? Of course! Why didn’t you just say that?! Yeah I know who you’re talking about now! What? He’s got a Vision too? I guess that guy’s just full of surprises

About Childe: So, that weasel is actually a Fatui Harbinger? Why am I not surprised... O-oh when did I meet him? After I graduated from the Academy. Did I sound too surprised about his identity? Sorry, when I knew him, he used a different name

About Albedo: Ah… the son of Rhinedottir. His master actually attended one of my lectures when I was younger in secret. I think they were using an alias during that time but I spoke to them in private. It was interesting to learn different things about ancient alchemy techniques from another land. I think Albedo is currently an alchemist in Mondstat, right? I’ll visit him when the Travel Ban is lifted to exchange notes

About Klee: Klee, daughter of Alice? Eh, I haven’t heard good things. I’m not a big fan of explosions... but that doesn’t mean that she’s a bad kid! I’m sure if I met her, we’d be friends

About Lisa: Minci-Senpai! We worked together a lot at the Acadmia! Why did I call her senpai when I’m older than her? Well, because she’s the Grandmage!!! Everyone knows how smart and powerful Minci-Senpai is! Once, she tasked me with finding ways to preserve pure Electro organisms. So, I coated the inside of a jar with Hydro Slime condensate so that her Electro roses can continuously be charged by the Hydro energy… Sorry, I’m getting carried away

About Mona: What, do you think that all Hydro users who practice magic know each other? Well, I do know Miss Megistus, but you can’t assume that! I met her and her master once during a lecture on fortune telling with the use of elemental abilities. Now that I have a Vision of my own, I will see if I can implement their techniques into my own practice

About Sara: To be perfectly honest, I’ve never met her. We may be the heirs to our Clans and our respective Commissions, but I’ve never had a conversation with her. Naturally, as a Vision holder and she as the spearhead of the Tenryou Commission, I am her enemy. However, as the heir to the Hiiragi Clan, I must keep up formalities. Besides, my dear sister Chisato is being courted by another member of the Kujou clan, Kujou Kamaji, and I don’t want to do anything to ruin that. You won’t turn me and my Vision in to her, right?

About Cyno: Ah, Master Cyno, one of the smartest members of the Academy. I owe a lot of my development to him. I don’t think I would have finished my Thesis paper on the eighth nation without his guidance

About: Names: You know, my name means “first treasure”, but despite such an endearing name, my father has yet to reveal my face to the public and claim me as his heir. He was also the one to send me away when I was a boy to Sumeru because I was not like other children. Was I meant to be gift to my family? To the other nations? Was I an unwanted gift? … Oh, sorry about that. I don’t usually get dark like that! Tell me, Traveller, what does your name mean?

About: Politics: Ugh… Sakoku Decree this, honor the Commissions that, I don’t understand any of it. If I’m ever left in charge, I’m sure that I could handle the bureaucratic side, but the people side? I get overwhelmed when talking to people I’m not comfortable with. I shut down mentally, fumble over my words and eventually I end up having a panic attack and Chisato has to pull me from the room. My father thought that I would have grown out of those outbursts when I got older, but I’ve only found a way to mask my behaviors. But you’re different, you haven’t looked at me like a child nor spoken less of me simply because I’m different, why is that?

About: Family: My mother passed away while I was gone, my father Shinsuke is the head of the Kanjou Commission and my younger sister Chisato is his main assistant. When my father gets upset, Chisato is always the one who has my back and in turn, I’ve begun escorting her secretly to Kondo Village to meet with her secret lover, Kujou Kamaji. I guess that’s what siblings do for each other, we protect each other from everything because no matter what we go through, no matter what arguments we have, we always will have each other. Ah, Traveler! I didn’t say anything to make you upset, did I?

About: Khaenri’ah: … You ask a lot of questions, don’t you? What do you think I know about that cursed place? Yeah, I wrote my Thesis paper on Khaenri’ah, but that was a while ago and I’ve learned my lesson. Now, the only connections I have to that place are hearsay from lecturers, rumors at the Academy and the plucked plume of a proud peacock.

About: Time Gap: Huh? Oh yeah, I went to Sumeru when I was seven and studied there for fourteen years. Uh… what did I do for the missing five years of my life before returning to Ritou? Ehe-he… I don’t think I’m allowed to say everything, but I can tell you this: that’s the time that I met a disgraced Knight, a bloodthirsty child and learned how to wield a sword. I was able to travel with them while writing my Thesis paper. Ah… how time flies when working with like minded people

This is the most thought I’ve ever put into an OC, I hope you like him!

[stubbornness-and-spite]

With Friends Like These...

Happy holidays! This is my gift for @sunflowerstalks for the Sanders Sides Gift Exchange @sanderssidesgiftxchange

Thank you @authorgirl0131 for beta reading!

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Remus-typical raunchiness, kissing, mild gore, mildly graphic injuries, mild angst, swearing

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort(emphasis on the comfort)

Characters: Janus, Patton, Roman, Logan, Remus, Virgil

Powers/Magic Focus List: 

Janus- studies potions, has scales on half his body

Patton- fire powers, studies energy manipulation

Remus- witch, studies mind magic

Roman- witch, studies nature magic

Logan- alchemist

Virgil- hedgewitch, studies medicinal magic

Word Count: 5156

Summary: All Janus wanted was to have a nice dinner with Patton, but when you live with a crazy alchemist and a witch with a penchant for dramatics and your boyfriend is literally the hottest person in the room at any given moment, sometimes life gets in the way.

AO3 link in reblog - story continues under the cut

~

“Roman, Logan, I swear to god, if you’ve ruined the dinner I made for Patton in the five minutes I left the room, I will dismember you and use your remains for potions,” Janus snarled at the sight of smoke coming from the kitchen. 

“Ummm,” a voice came from the kitchen. “Roman and Logan didn’t ruin anything?”

Janus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, walking into the kitchen blind, not wanting to see the disaster.

“Hi, Patton,” he said calmly. “You’re here early.” Janus opened his eyes to see a blushing Patton standing in front of a smoking stove.

“Hi, Janus,” Patton chirped. “I missed you!”

Janus sighed fondly, letting go of any pretense of frustration. “What did you do?”

Patton flushed. “I let myself in and saw that the kitchen was empty and the stove was off. I wanted to make sure the food stayed warm, so I tried to heat it up.”

“My stove is not complicated, Patton,” Janus sighed. “You could have just turned it on.”

“Yeah,” Patton admitted. “But I’ve been getting better at heating things myself! So I picked up the pan-”

“And torched dinner,” Janus finished.

“And torched dinner,” Patton agreed.

“Are you two lovebirds done trying to make the scalded remains of that monstrosity romantic?” Roman called from the doorway. Roman was one of Janus’s roommates and had been since their sophomore year of college. They both were suspiciously quiet about their freshman year roommates but no one had ever managed to piece together any of that mystery.

“I called my brother and he said we could go over there for dinner,” Roman said with a smirk. “Something about assuming that between the two of you, something was going to go wrong.”

Patton scowled good-naturedly. “Was that what he meant when he told me to keep my hands to myself when I left earlier?”

Janus slipped a gloved hand into Patton’s. “I assure you, it was not.”

“That wasn’t either,” Roman snapped with a grin, gesturing at their hands. 

“Oh?” Patton asked, his eyes wide with faux innocence. “Did Remus mean I should put my hands on parts of your body that aren’t covered in heat-proof cloth? Because that would be very irresponsible.”

Janus stammered and almost swallowed his tongue as Patton dragged his fingers up Janus’s fire-resistant jacket and hovered them by the jacket’s collar where he could feel the burning heat scalding the wisps of hair on his neck and heating the scales on the left side of his face.

Roman coughed loudly. “I’m going over to Patton, Remus and Virgil’s place. You’re welcome to join me if you aren’t planning to do it in the kitchen. And if you do, make sure that you fully burn whatever you touch.” Roman looked over his shoulder into the hall and called. “Logan! It’s time to go unless you want to be reminded what charred snakeskin smells like!”

Logan coughed awkwardly as he left his room. “I would recommend we all vacate the premises as soon as possible,” he said, avoiding eye contact with all of them. 

“Hi, Logan,” Patton said without turning away from Janus.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan replied curtly. “I would really recommend we leave quickly.”

Roman groaned. “What did you do this time, nerd?”

Logan flushed. “If we leave now, we won’t have to find out.”

“You want to leave a project without finding out what it does?” Janus asked incredulously, pulling away from Patton with concern. “What did you do?”

Logan’s hand drifted to cradle his right arm. “I had two reactions going at once. They were meant to work in tandem, but one rebounded and now the walls are screaming at me. The effects should subside enough for me to fix it by tomorrow.”

“Logan, take off your shirt,” Roman said firmly. Logan sputtered and stumbled back. “Take off your shirt,” Roman insisted.

Logan scowled and tried to pull his shirt over his head. He hissed in pain as it caught on his right arm. He tugged harder, not moving his arm, until he yanked it off, crying out as it jostled his arm.

“Eve and all her daughters, Logan,” Roman hissed. “You’re going to get yourself killed one day.” Logan’s right arm was mangled, the bone warped and the skin peeling and bubbling like it was being burned.

“I’m fine,” Logan growled. “Everything is intact. When the burning subsides I can fix it.”

Roman stepped over and put his hands on Logan’s shoulders. “You are not trying medical alchemy on yourself. I don’t care if you’ve done it before, you aren’t doing it again. We’re going to see Virgil and Remus and you’re going to let Virgil fix your arm.”

“I can deal with the active reaction,” Janus offered. “I’m not half as good as you, but I should be able to reverse it.”

“I can do it,” Logan insisted.

Janus shook his head. “If you weren’t dealing with a rebound, you probably could. But you are so I’ve got it.” He shrugged. “Besides,” he said, gesturing to the scaled half of his face. “My curse gives me a bit more natural protection than you. If you’re really worried, I’ll have Patton with me to siphon off any excess energy I can’t control.”

“You know I’d do that for you anytime too, right Lo?” Patton asked, frowning at Logan. “It’s a lot safer for me to be a conduit than you and having a living conduit gives you more control over your reactions.”

“I know,” Logan snapped. “I’m the one who’s actually studying alchemy. I’m perfectly capable of controlling my own reactions without your help.”

“Come on,” Roman cut in before anyone could get more heated. “Let’s head over to the others and worry about this later.”

“No,” Logan snarled, “We can worry about this now.” He twisted away from Roman and threw both of his arms down to his sides, ignoring how his mangled arm twitched. “I’m sick of you all thinking I’m incompetent. I make mistakes sometimes, we all do, but I know what I’m doing. I have worked too hard for you all to keep acting like I need you to hold my hands. I don’t need your pity and I don’t need your help.”

Roman lunged forward and grabbed Logan’s right wrist, both of them ignoring the tears welling up in Logan’s eyes. 

“We’re not helping you because we pity you,” Roman growled. “We’re not helping you because we think you aren’t good enough by yourself. We’re helping you because you’re too smart for your own good and you worry us sick with how little you care about your own safety. We’re helping you because just because you can do it alone doesn’t mean that you have to. So please,” he sighed and dropped Logan’s wrist. “Please let us help you.”

Logan stared Roman down for all of three seconds before he dropped his eyes with a sigh, tentatively rubbing his right wrist. “Okay.”

Roman sighed in relief. “Thank you. And I’m sorry about grabbing your wrist. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, Roman,” Logan said softly. “It’s okay.” Logan bit his lip and without thinking, leaned up on his toes and kissed Roman.

Roman’s eyes widened and he froze, Logan’s lips shaking slightly against his. His hands drifted forward of their own accord and threaded into Logan’s hair, pulling him closer. Logan dug his nails into Roman’s back and clung to him for dear life.

After a moment they pulled apart and Roman chucked. “First kiss and I’ve already got you shirtless,” he quipped. He groaned suddenly. “Virgil is going to be so pissed that I kissed you first.”

Logan’s eyes flew open. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “I forgot you were dating Virgil.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Did you miss the part where I said he was going to be pissed that I kissed you first? I mean, if you’re only interested in me that’s fine, but Virgil and I have both been flirting with you for months.”

“Oh.”

“As sweet as this is,” Janus drawled from across the kitchen. “I would like to eat sometime tonight. Perhaps we can continue this with the raccoon actually present?”

Roman blushed. “Come on, let’s go.”

~

Roman, Logan, Patton, and Janus entered Remus, Virgil, and Patton’s apartment with all the grace of a herd of elephants. Remus popped his head out of the kitchen at the sound and grinned when he saw them. 

“I thought I might be seeing you before tomorrow,” he crowed. “Did Pitter-Patton burn Double-D’s dinner or did the Ro-Lo tornado force you over here?”

Patton scowled lightly and swatted at Remus who batted his hand away with an oven mitt. “I burned it,” he said sullenly. “I thought I was getting better.”

“You are,” Remus said with a grin. “I don’t see any ash on you four so I assume the apartment is still standing.” He turned to yell towards the living room. “Hey Virgil, you owe me ten bucks!”

Patton and Roman made identical affronted noises.

“That’s not to say that the Roman and Logan tornado didn’t also force us out,” Janus said dryly. “Patton just managed to burn dinner first.”

“Dammit,” Remus muttered. “Hey Virgil, I also owe you ten bucks!” he called.

“Can we just say we both lost the bet and you should shut the fuck up?” came a muffled shout. “I’m studying!”

“While I am glad to shoulder the blame of any of my dear comrade’s actions,” Roman said with grace. Suddenly, he got a glint in his eye and smirked. “It was mostly Logan!” he yelped.

Logan tried to look intimidating, but his soft grin that hadn’t faded since they’d left the apartment ruined any efforts. So, he rolled his eyes and swatted Roman in the shoulder. 

“Fuck!” Logan shouted, gripping the wall for support, tears welling up in his eyes. He’d smacked Roman with his right arm. His arm felt like it was pulsing along with his heartbeat and he swore he could see bone through his torn skin. Black veins started inching past his damaged forearm and up his bicep. “Oh, what did I do?” Logan hissed, finally managing to catch his breath. He stood up shakily and coughed, straightening his tie.

“My apologies,” he said, coughing to cover up a wince. “You were saying?”

“Oh, fuck no,” Remus cut in, eyes wide. “You need a doctor like now. At least let Virgil look at you if you won’t go to the damn hospital.”

Logan sighed. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m fine. And Virgil is busy studying.”

“Uh, no, I’m not.” Five sets of eyes swung over to the end of the hall where Virgil was standing, his couch and books abandoned. He flushed and ducked his head. “Yeah, I was pretending to study so Remus would leave me alone and not make me help cook,” he admitted. “That went out the door when you started screaming, L. What the hell happened?”

“My reaction rebounded,” Logan replied stiffly. “Despite my earlier refusal, I… could use some help.”

“Gotcha,” Virgil nodded. He gestured to the living room behind him with his head. “Come in here and lay down. Roman, come help me clear space.”

Roman nodded gravely and scurried into the room to clear off the couch so Logan could lie down right away.

“Left or right?” Virgil asked, digging through his bag and not looking at Logan.

“Right,” Logan replied curtly.

“Okay,” Virgil fell silent for a second. “Put your head closer to me so your right arm is open and your left is against the back of the couch. Roman, get him a pillow.”

Roman grabbed a pillow and Logan settled down on the couch. Meanwhile, Patton, Janus and Remus filed into the kitchen to finish dinner and to give the other three some space.

“Virgil,” Logan said quietly. “Thank you.”

Virgil brushed him off. “Shut up, nerd.” He flipped through a black leatherbound book that looked one wrong look away from falling apart. “Roman, look at me and pay attention.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I’m listening.”

Virgil scowled. “Look at me. I need you to grab something off of my ‘fuck up’ shelf and if you grab the wrong one and I don’t notice, we could kill him.”

“You never let anyone touch your ‘fuck up’ shelf.” Roman’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah, well,” Virgil muttered, not looking at anyone. “We’re on a time crunch.”

“We aren’t,” Logan protested.

“We are,” Virgil snapped. “Whatever you did didn’t just rebound, it cast something else inside your arm. There’s a good chance that it will eat your arm if I don’t get it out.” Virgil lifted his head and looked at Roman. “Roman, look at me. Go to my room. From the door, there’s a shelf on the left, the left, with bottles. Grab the one labeled “Logan” and the one labeled “Janus” and bring them here without opening them.”

Virgil turned to Logan without watching to see if Roman listened. “Okay, you are going to be completely honest with me about what hurts, how much, and where. I could do so much damage if I don’t take something into account or if I try to fix something that isn’t there.” Virgil knelt by Logan’s side. “What hurts?”

Logan stared at the ceiling. “My forearm is either numb or burning. I can’t tell. My upper arm feels like it’s being stabbed. I’m dizzy and feel like I might throw up but that might be because I kissed Roman and I’m terrified I ruined our friendship.”

Virgil stiffened. “You kissed Roman?”

“Yeah,” Logan admitted. “I kissed Roman.”

“Okay,” Virgil said haltingly. “After I fix your arm, can I kiss you too?”

Logan smiled. “I would like that.”

~

Logan stretched his arm and smiled. “It feels great,” he said. “Better than before.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Because you don’t take care of yourself, L. I don’t like having to use my ‘fuck up’ jars. Don’t make me do it again.”

Roman coughed from his chair across the room. “I have to ask. What is a ‘fuck up’ jar?”

Virgil smirked. “The ones I just used? Fixes for the most likely way each of you will fuck up. Logan’s was a quick fix for a reaction that rebounds. I used Janus’s because it looked like whatever L used for his components mixed with his arm and made a poison. The jars just have standard herbs and components, so I can tweak them to fit whatever actually happens.” He smirked. “The ones on the right are components for hexes, tailored to however each of you would want to fuck someone up.”

Roman gaped. “I see why you didn’t want me to get them confused.”

“Yeah,” Virgil snorted. He shook his head and grinned at Roman. “So, I heard you kissed Logan.”

Roman blushed. “I kissed Logan.”

“Was it good?” Virgil leered, ignoring Logan’s reddening face.

“So good,” Roman teased. “So very good.”

“What about you, L?” Virgil said, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Was kissing my boyfriend good?”

Logan stared at the ceiling. “I would rather not answer that question.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, softening. “How about this one? Can I kiss you?”

Logan sat up and turned to Virgil. “Please.”

~

“So…” Remus drawled. “Anyone wanna guess why they’re taking so long?”

“No,” Janus snapped before that conversation could go anywhere. He was sitting at the kitchen table and scowling. Remus was bustling around the stove, pots and pans bubbling cheerfully, with a pink apron that said ‘I like my butt rubbed and my pork pulled’ on it. Patton had been leaning on the counter, watching Remus, but he walked over to Janus and pulled up a chair next to him.

“Are you okay?” Patton asked.

“I’m fine,” Janus snarled.

Remus snorted without looking at them. “We know you well enough to know you’re not, Jan. What’s wrong?”

Janus huffed. “I hate this. I hate that we always end up here. I hate that I can never do something nice for my boyfriend, that you,” he jabbed a finger at Remus. “Always need to come running in to fix everything.”

“I’m really sorry I ruined your dinner, Janus,” Patton said softly.

Janus scoffed. “Patton, it was shit. I was in the bathroom trying to figure out an excuse to throw it out so we wouldn’t have to eat it before you showed up. I was ready to recruit Roman to just hex the entire kitchen and be done with it. I’m the one who always ruins things.”

“Do you think we care?” Remus cut in. 

“Remus,” Patton chided.

“No, Patton,” Remus pushed. He turned around to face Janus. “I’m serious. Do you think either of us give a shit if you mess up? I love cooking for you two. I love spending time with you two. I can back off if you want me to, but I like coming in to rescue you. And Patton? Patton adores everything you do. If there was ever a person who genuinely meant ‘it’s the thought that counts,’ it would be Patton. We don’t care if you’re perfect. We lo-” he coughed. “Like you, the way you are, a lot.”

“Yeah,” Patton murmured. “We love you. A lot.”

Remus’s eyes dropped to the floor and he turned back to the stove. 

“Hey, Janus,” Patton said, looking at Remus. “Can you give us a minute?”

Janus blinked. “Um, sure?”

“Okay,” Patton replied absentmindedly. He leaned over and kissed Janus on his scaly cheek. The scales sizzled slightly, but Janus didn’t flinch. 

Janus swallowed heavily, his mouth suddenly dry, and stepped out of the kitchen.

~

“Remus,” Patton started.

“Don’t,” Remus said firmly, not looking at Patton. “I’m sorry, okay? He doesn’t know and I won’t push. He loves you and he’s happy.”

“He loves you too,” Patton insisted. “He loves you too and…” he took a breath and steeled himself. “And so do I.” Remus turned around to look at Patton. “We love you too. Remus, you have to know that. You’re with us on ¾ of our dates and you’ve heard us complain about the ones when you aren’t there. We like you, Remus.”

“I like you both,” Remus admitted. “But I like you too much. I’m too much. It’s for the best.”

“Because you feel too intensely?” Patton asked sharply. “So do I. I burn things when I get mad. Janus has to wear gloves because touching me hurts him. We work with it and we will work with you. Do you want us?”

“I want…” Remus breathed. “So much. I want to let J and L experiment on me until I can put my mouth everywhere on you. I want to lick Janus’s scales. I want to never need a blanket again because you’re cuddling me and I’m drowning in my own sweat. I want to find out how Janus’s tongue feels. I want-”

“You,” Patton finished. “I can only make guesses for Janus, but Remus, I want you too.”

“Kiss me?” Remus asked breathlessly. Patton smiled helplessly and pointed at the ceiling, a flame flickering above his finger like a birthday candle. 

“Sorry,” he said.

Remus shook his head, grinning widely. “No, it’s fine. I can’t feel pain right now, so we just have to be quick enough to not do lasting damage.” Patton’s brow furrowed and Remus laughed. “The oil was splattering so I did a quick hypnotic charm on myself so it wouldn’t bother me. It wears off in about an hour; I do them all the time.”

Patton’s pupils went wide. “You,” he breathed. “Are. So. Smart,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss pressed to Remus’s lips. “You’re smart and wonderful and-”

“Hot?” Remus teased.

“So hot,” Patton hissed, grabbing Remus’s neck and pulling him in for a searing kiss. 

~

“We really should talk to Janus,” Remus said, licking his lips for any remaining taste of Patton.

Patton smiled, bemused. “Did you really think I would kiss you without talking to him first? We should but he probably already guessed.”

“Or,” came a voice from the doorway. “He got self-conscious wondering what you two were talking about and came back and decided to enjoy the show.”

“Hi, J,” Remus said quietly.

“Hi, Remus,” Janus responded. “Care to kiss me too?”

“Oh, hell yes,” he hissed, lunging across the room to throw himself into Janus’s arms. Janus caught him by the sides of his face and slammed their mouths together. Remus’s hands flew up to Janus’s and pulled off his gloves, reveling in the feeling of cold scales on his right and a warm, clammy hand on his left.

Remus pulled back for a second, smiling at the small whine that escaped Janus. “I love you,” he whispered, before crashing back into him.

~

By the time the six of them actually sat down to eat, they were all beaming with suspiciously red mouths.

“So,” Remus said with a glint in his eyes. “Are double dates going to be six people now?”

Janus cuffed him upside the head, but the sparkle in his eyes matched Remus’s and he was doing a terrible job of hiding his laugh. He sat down next to Remus and slipped off his gloves to eat. Remus snagged the left glove with a wink and sat down between Janus and Patton, sliding his newly gloved hand under the table.

“Maybe we should swap Janus out for Virgil,” Roman teased, smirking at his brother. 

“Oooo!” Remus cheered gleefully, “I’d take that trade.”

“We’re not trading,” Virgil deadpanned. “Living with these two hazards to society, I would probably die of stress in a week.”

“Oh, you love us, Doctor Gloom,” Roman snapped goodnaturedly.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Doctor Do-the-Most.”

“As much as I would enjoy spending more time with Virgil,” Logan cut in. “I do rather enjoy living with Janus.”

“Relax, Sub-astute Teacher,” Roman groaned with a grin. “We’re not actually swapping roommates. Janus knows too many secrets for me to let him leave.”

“I was almost flattered, but then Roman opened his mouth and I remembered why I should have known better,” Janus deadpanned, not looking at any of them.

“You know you love me,” Roman taunted.

“Really?” Janus said, locking eyes with Roman. “I had thought the fact that your brother’s tongue has been in my mouth would make you less inclined to carry on our sordid affair.”

“But however shall I go on without it?” Roman faked a swoon. “It is the only excitement in my dull and pitiable life!”

“Alas,” Janus cried, swooning as well. “It cannot be, for as I am bound to my loves so are you to the bitchy raccoon who would punch my teeth out if we were ever to be amorous.”

“Bitchy racoon!” Virgil yelped indignantly.

Janus smirked. “You’re the one who assumed I was talking about you.”

“I love that you’re more upset that he called you a bitchy raccoon than that he said he was having an affair with your boyfriend,” Roman said, sitting up with a grin.

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, any excuse to punch Janus, but if you two really wanted to, I wouldn’t try and stop you.”

Janus coughed. “Well. This just got uncomfortably honest.”

“Yeah.” Roman winced. 

“Sorry?” Virgil said hesitantly. “I mean, was I supposed to say I’d try to control your love life? Our relationship has never been like that.”

“You do know we’re joking, right?” Janus said suddenly. “I’m not interested in Roman. At all.”

Roman let out an affronted gasp and grinned. “Well, my ego had been irreversibly damaged, but same. Flirting with you is fun but I’m not interested in anything more than that.”

“Well, now I know that.” Virgil muttered.

“Did you really not know they were only joke-flirting?” Logan asked. “Roman doesn’t look at Janus the way he looks at you. Janus doesn’t look at Roman the way he looks at Remus and Patton.”

“How does Janus look at me?” Patton spoke up.

Janus flushed. “You don’t have to answer that-”

“Like you hung the moon,” Logan answered. “He looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars, like he’d learn how to hang them himself if it would make you smile.”

“How does he look at me?” Remus mumbled.

“Like looking at the sun,” Logan said without hesitating. “He looks at you like you like everything that is is because of you and if he looked too long he would burn up.”

“Where did that come from?” Virgil asked incredulously.

Logan’s eyes dropped. “I have an appreciation for poetry.”

“Well, now I have to ask,” Roman murmured. “What do you see when you look at me and Virgil? How do you look at us?”

Logan looked up and caught Roman’s eyes like he was the only person in the world. “I see someone who’s not afraid to try, who makes me be not afraid to try. I see someone who could stand next to galaxies and still shine brighter. I see someone was given countless opportunities to be selfish and chose to be kind. I see someone that I could picture myself falling in love with.” 

He turned to Virgil, biting his lip. “I look at you and I see someone who took their fear and made it a strength. I see someone who is loyal to a fault, but strong, stubborn, and determined enough to be loyal anyway. I see someone who I could spend the rest of my life learning and still always find something new that makes you worth knowing. I see someone I could see myself falling in love with.”

“Oh my god,” Roman whispered to Virgil. “He’s perfect.”

Virgil barked a laugh, startled out of his trance. “We already knew that, Princey.”

~

Remus was sitting between Janus and Patton. He hadn’t eaten a bite because both of them had silently grabbed his hands at some point and there was absolutely no way in hell that he was letting go. 

Patton squeezed his hand gently and he melted. Remus had been gone on Janus since about a week after they’d met in freshman year. Janus had sat down next to him in a basic introduction to potions class and immediately started complaining about his roommate. Remus still wasn’t sure if Janus had thought he was Roman and was too embarrassed to admit it after realizing his mistake or if Janus really just walked up to a stranger to complain about his roommate. Remus had, of course, taken his complaints as a challenge, to simultaneously be worse than the roommate and to terrorize the school into assigning Janus a new roommate. Remus liked to believe he had succeeded on both fronts, but considering Janus was now dating him, the first one was probably a failure.

Remus was very okay with being a failure in that particular venture. Janus was amazing.

Then there was Patton. Remus had hated Roman for introducing Patton and Janus because they had fallen for each other hard and fast. The day Janus started wearing heat resistant clothes and gloves everywhere was the day Remus decided that if he ever met Patton, he was going to steal his liver. Then this absolutely adorable little fireball with a smile like the sun waltzes into Remus’s psychology class, asks to sit next to him, and absconds with the remains of Remus’s heart. Remus would do anything for either one of them, including keep his silence. He let times hanging out with one of them become dates he third-wheeled on without saying anything; he made sure they ate and ate well, putting to use the skills he’d learned growing up with busy parents who always had time to make dinner but never time to make anything interesting; he listened to them gush about each other and only cried a little bit after he was alone. He took what they were willing to give him and enjoyed it, because they were happy and he loved seeing them happy; he was happy and it was enough. 

But as always, then there was Patton, who saw too much and couldn’t stand by if he saw someone hurting. Remus was utterly terrified that they were just indulging him, that they felt guilty about his jealousy, but Remus wasn’t noble or chivalrous; he was selfish and, at least for now, he would take.

~

Patton had never been more scared in his life. He squeezed Remus’s hand and practically squealed when Remus squeezed his back. There were so many things that could go wrong, not the least of which was that the two of them would get tired of having a boyfriend that they could barely touch and leave him. Patton adored Janus and had practically swooned when he’d first talked to Remus. They were sweet and wonderful and perfect for each other. If that meant that they weren’t perfect for Patton, then he was pretty sure he loved them enough that he’d rather see them happy. But for now, Janus was smiling at him and Remus was holding his hand and as scared as he was about the future, Patton had never been happier.

~

Janus was feeling a lot of things. Mostly uncomfortable. He was still hung up on the short conversation he’d had with Virgil and Roman when they’d first sat down. It was no secret that Janus and Roman were close. Janus had only met Remus because he’d mixed him up with Roman in his frustration and by the time he’d noticed, he was enjoying Remus’s company. Janus had feelings for Roman, but they had only ever been platonic. Virgil, on the other hand, had been the subject of more romantic fantasies than Janus would care to admit. They’d been friends as kids, close in middle school, drifted apart in high school, and ended up at the same college. Except they’d done more than drift apart in high school. Janus developed a crush on Virgil and like the exceptionally smart 14 year old he was, he’d stopped hanging out with him and started being rude. Virgil eventually blew up on him their sophomore year, screaming painfully specific insults and obscenities in the middle of the cafeteria. They didn’t talk again until Roman tried to introduce them their freshman year of college. It had been awkward and they never really got close again, but they were back on speaking terms. 

It still hurt, hearing Virgil remind him of exactly how badly he’d messed up. ‘Any excuse to punch Janus.’ In Janus’s opinion, any excuse for Virgil to punch Janus was probably fair.

Remus looked over at him, his mouth barely pinched and his brow slightly furrowed. He squeezed Janus’s hand.

Janus smiled and squeezed his hand back. He leaned over and dropped his head onto Remus’s shoulder.

“Love you,” Remus whispered into his hair.

Janus squeezed his hand. “You too.”

~

[royaimonopoly]

A Man's Back by Cyborgartalchemist

“Burying a friend?” A familiar voice asks softly.

Roy wonders how often she is going to find him in front of a grave. Surely this second time isn’t a coincidence. The first time was at his aunt’s grave, where the silly ideals of Riza Hawkeye made him believe she was worthy of his aunt’s research. Her dreams of a better Amestris had led him to giving up the secret he carried. The secret emblazoned upon his back like a brand. 

“No Sir, an Ishvalan child, he was abandoned on the side of the road,” he answers heavily. His hands still in the dirt where he kneels. He hears Riza shift uncomfortably behind him. There is an intake of breath as she tries to think of something to say, something that will not sound cruel or uncaring after the months of bloodshed and destruction. But she fails.

“We should go home, the war is over,” Riza manages something that isn’t too callous. She stands over Roy watching him as he shifts to look at her finally. 

“No, no it isn’t over. Inside me, this war will never end,” he replies in a torn voice. “I’ll carry it as long as I live.” Roy sighs heavily his dirty hands clenching into fists. He surveys the landscape before him, broken buildings, still smoldering fires, and the stench of decaying bodies. Is that what he had wanted when he chose to give her the research? Was this what he had wanted when he gave Riza everything he could?

 His mind falls back to a night, just after his aunt’s funeral when he invited her over to the crumbling house he called a home. The night when he divulged his family’s dark history to Riza Hawkeye, the only student of his aunt. Roy’s aunt had lost her mind at some point to her alchemy research and she had just detached herself from sanity. In fact Chris Mustang was so detached from reality she tattooed her own nephew with the finished research. The key to fire alchemy that she uncovered in her years of research were deposited in blood red ink upon his back. Ink that mapped out the array and the knowledge of manipulating fire.

Roy had let himself believe that Riza was going to do good in the world, that she would be the perfect embodiment of what an alchemist was supposed to be. Be thou for the people. Alchemy was never to be used in the ways it had in this bloody war. Roy thought she would be better than that, that Riza’s desire to protect the nation would protect her from descending into darkness. Alas Roy had now witnessed two women become monsters thanks to fire alchemy. The first he couldn’t stop, but the second? He’d given the second the key to becoming that monster. The guilt was his alone to carry.

But on that night, Roy let her into the house and with a sigh he spoke, “My aunt left me her research. It’s in my possession, if you want it, all you need do is ask for it,” he said.

“Please, I really do believe it could be used to benefit this country,” Riza had replied eagerly. Ever the ambitious alchemist her eyes had glistened at the prospect of finally obtaining those secrets. Back then he had found her drive for mastery of the element endearing. And he had wanted to give it to her, to give her something of himself in so intimate a manner.

Roy stood then and began removing his vest and shirt. Inside he had wanted to be looked upon by Riza, to have her eyes roving over his flesh hungrily. Even if she were more focused on what was written on his skin, it was better than to be ignored by her completely.

“My aunt wanted her research well protected, so she did something unorthodox to ensure it never fell into the wrong hands,” he explained. 

“What did she do?” Riza asked watching as Roy unbuttoned his shirt slowly.

Instead of answering with words Roy simply shrugged out of his upper garments and turned to let her see the big ugly tattoo sprawled over his back. Roy flinched at her startled gasp. But as the shock wore off and her thirst for knowledge took over she closed the gap between them. Roy jumped when her icy fingers brushed along his shoulder blade. He stood there, bare for the world to see while she scrutinized his back. 

He had remained still despite the alluring sensation of fingers on his back. Despite how badly he wanted those fingers to run along other parts of his body at the time. He had never been touched by a woman before in such a reverent manner. The way her fingertips hovered, the gentle swooping glides she made, and grip as she focused on a particular spot did all kinds of things to him. He had found himself fighting the urge to spin around and kiss her. 

But that was then and this is now. Roy didn’t want to kiss her anymore, at least not at the moment. He could hardly stomach the idea of returning to a normal life after what they had done. How many lives had Riza taken here in Ishval with fire alchemy? How many lives had he taken as a sniper because he had so blindly followed after her? 

Bile rises in Roy’s throat, it’s all his fault. He didn’t just give that power to Riza, he ruined her. Ruined the woman he had intended to help, he had ruined his friend by giving up that knowledge. 

There was only one thing he could do now. Absolution was impossible and atonement unreachable, but Roy could make sure it stopped here. That this disease did not spread beyond the Mustang and Hawkeye hands. But for that, his aunt’s research was to be destroyed. To do that he’d have to- Roy’s thoughts grind to a halt, and he steels himself for what he is about to suggest. It won’t be easy, and she might outright refuse, but it’s worth a try. He could probably do it himself if he was desperate enough.

Roy’s voice is full of anguish and disgust as he speaks. “I chose to trust you with my aunt’s research. I also chose to join the academy to improve the lives of this nation’s citizens. Though I regret what I have taken part in, I can not escape the harsh reality that it was my decisions that brought me here. I’m a killer and no amount of denial or repentance can free me of that.” He takes a shaky breath, all the while Riza watches in silent regret. 

“I have a favor to ask of you Miss Hawkeye,” he starts in a suddenly sure tone. “My back, I want you to burn it so it is incomprehensible.” 

Riza’s eyes widen with shock and she immediately objects to the idea of hurting him. “What?!” She shouts, “I could never do such a thing to you!”

“You have to!” Roy fires back. “I can never atone, but I can prevent the brith of another fire alchemist. I want the secret branded on my back to become undecipherable.” He gives her a steely glare as he makes his request perfectly clear. “To remove the burden of my aunt’s legacy and allow me, Roy Mustang to be independent, it must be done. I ask this one thing of you.” Roy knows there is no other way, and so does Riza. He can already see it in her eyes, the understanding that this secret dies with them both. 

Riza pulls out the specially made gloves she wears to use fire alchemy. The gloves whose array matches the one on Roy’s back. The one she knows so very well by now. 

“It’s ironic, that during the course of the war I have learned how to control the flames enough to differentiate between incineration and non-fatal burns.” Riza sighs heavily. “I’ve become far too accustomed to burning people.” 

Roy manages not to scream, Riza does her best to keep the burns small and to only erase the most crucial bits of information. He leans on her through the pain as they follow their fellow killers towards the train station. Even through the pain, Roy Mustang finally feels separated from the alchemy that has turned good women into monsters.

[medea10]

My Review of Trigun

How did I get into this anime? Let’s just say this was one of those animes that used to air on Saturday nights back in the day that I would every now and then come across while waiting for either Full Metal Alchemist, InuYasha, or Cowboy Bebop to air. But I never did watch a full episode or know a damn thing about this anime. So I’m just jumping into this anime blindfolded. All I know is that this was Johnny Yong Bosch’s first anime role.

Who is Vash the Stampede?

A frequent question that comes up throughout the series! Rumor has it that he wears a long, red trench coat and sports a Mohawk hairstyle. Some say he’s a notorious lecher. Many recount him shooting up their villages to a pile of rubble just for the heck of it. He has quite the reputation as he has a $$60,000,000,000 bounty on his head and is often known as the “Humanoid Typhoon”.

In reality, Vash the Stampede is…a bit of a dingus. He just happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and things kinda get out of hand. But that doesn’t stop two insurance agents (Milly Thompson and Meryl Stryfe) from following him around to confirm Vash’s identity and keep his actions to a minimum. At first, it’s hard to tell if he’s a stupid-genius or just flighty and gets lucky one too many times. But when shit goes down, don’t be surprised when you see this doofus get serious.

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: Okay, what sad company did this use to belong to, Geneon, Bandai, or ADV Films? Oh, Geneon! That means good voice actors from L.A. put in really shitty roles. On the contrary, this was a fairly decent English dub. And on a severely positive note, this was indeed Johnny Yong Bosch’s very first anime role (and a main role at that). This was like fresh off his time as a Power Ranger! And I gotta give props for giving this guy a chance at voice acting. This role was the launching point to what has been a very successful career for Bosch. As for the sub, let’s just say I’m happy any time I get to hear Hiromi Tsuru in something besides Dragon Ball. Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

JAPANESE CAST: *Vash is played by Masaya Onosaka (known for Bill on Pokemon, Isaac on Baccano, Jadeite on Sailor Moon, Kero on Cardcaptor Sakura, Leeron on Gurren Lagann, France on Hetalia, and Spandam on One Piece)

*Meryl is played by Hiromi Tsuru (known for Bulma on DBZ, Ukyo on Ranma ½, Yubel on YGO GX, and Mika on Gravitation) [R.I.P.]

*Milly is played by Satsuki Yukino (known for Kagome on InuYasha, Mion/Shion on Higurashi, Tae on Gintama, Amakata on Free!, Hiiragi on Natsume Yuujinchou, Mutsumi on Love Hina, and Yoruichi on Bleach)

ENGLISH CAST: *Vash is played by Johnny Yong Bosch (known for Ichigo on Bleach, Lelouch on Code Geass, Makoto on Free!, Izaya on Durarara, Artemis on Sailor Moon redub, Koizumi on Haruhi Suzumiya, and Yukio on Blue Exorcist)

*Meryl is played by Dorothy Elias-Fahn (known for Kaoru on Rurouni Kenshin, Naru on Love Hina, Tomoe on Rozen Maiden, Hakuei on Magi, Houki on Fushigi Yugi, and Amane on Tenchi Muyo GXP)

*Milly is played by Lia Sargent (known for Dorothy on The Big O and Judy on Cowboy Bebop)

FAVORITE CHARACTER: Milly! I don’t need a reason, it’s Milly!

SHIPPING: I didn’t really start thinking about shipping until more than halfway into this series. I thought there might be something between Vash and Meryl, but then again maybe not! Then I saw the backstory of Vash’s “younger days” and falling for the one woman who showed him compassion.

Yes, this is the same woman we consistently see in Vash’s flashbacks, Rem. Ooh boy, it’s one of those stories! So yeah, never mind my thinking with Vash x Meryl ever happening. I feel like Vash will mourn Rem’s death for a long time that I don’t think the whole thing with Meryl will ever work.

And as for Wolfwood x Milly…

FUUUUUUUCK! WHY DID YOU RUIN THIS CUTE COUPLE?!

MILLY WAS HEART-BROKEN!

…At least she got to have one night of passion with Wolfy-boy before the unthinkable happened.

THAT DARN CAT: If you watched this series, you might have noticed a little black cat spotted in nearly every episode. It’s there in the opening theme. It’s there in random places throughout the series. It’s there in the ending theme. What’s up with this cat? Well, there are a lot of theories surrounding this particular cat (or Kuroneko). Some say it’s really Rem inside that cat since you see it in literally every episode around Vash. Others say it’s because the creator of Trigun wanted to just mess with your minds with the kitty walking around in random places and towns. Seriously, it will always appear in every new town Vash and the gang comes across! As an avid cat enthusiast, I’m fine with whatever the result. Just as long as no harm comes to the little Kuroneko.

HALFWAY POINT: Halfway into the series we notice something more when it comes to Mr. Vash the Stampede. First of all, those horrifying scars all over his body! Second, that mysterious girl he often thinks about. I mean, we see flashes of her in the opening sequence. And third, the reason why he never kills. Vash has the ability of causing so much damage when pushed to a breaking point. One of the many reasons why he’s known as the “humanoid typhoon”! And that was perfectly shown when Vash chases the residents out of a town (so there would be no casualties), totally demolished the town during a fight, and made an indent on the moon!

But the story takes a sharp-left turn into WTF territory when we learn about WHAT exactly Vash is. Vash is a plant. Vash also has a brother named Knives. And while Vash has a mentality that all beings have a right to live, Knives has a “kill them all and let God sort them out” point of view. Now the existence of Vash and Knives came with a lot of controversy, especially in the ship that they were on. But that girl who Vash cares for, Rem cared for them regardless of what they were. Rem had high hopes for a peaceful world with coexistence. Too bad Knives had other motives and killed her.

ENDING TO TV SERIES: Vash has tried so hard to keep Milly, Meryl, and Wolfwood out of harm’s way. He knows there are some pretty bad people after him, including his polar-opposite brother, Knives. Vash hates death and wants to save as many people as humanly possible. He doesn’t want to see any more needless death. Probably from his flashbacks and losing Rem! Unfortunately, this doesn’t go so well.

I can see how iconic this death was now after witnessing it. Wolfwood, the priest who would hook up with Vash every now and then when they’re up against some ruffians, now finds himself in a crucial decision. He gets orders that he must eliminate Vash. And Wolfwood ends up dying instead in a very dramatic death scene. God-damn! And just that scene where Milly is sobbing freakin’ eats you up inside.

At least she had one night of passion before the unfortunate happened!

Vash hates the thought of having to kill anyone. But he might not have a choice if Knives is coming after him and even hires a powerful foe from a previous episode and the guy that killed Wolfwood to take you out. Once Vash met up with Knives, he winds up having some pretty sick flashbacks of Knives. But our homeboy was able to take out Knives, the desert area gets water, and…

I’m gonna have to read the fucking manga for more, right?

Tap dancing fuck!

BADLANDS RUMBLE: 12 years after the series ended, Japan decides to release a side-story in the form of a movie, bringing back our favorite characters like Vash, Wolfwood, Milly, and Meryl. And yes, reuniting the cast…in Japan.

By 2010, Geneon was as good as dead and FUNimation licensed Trigun. In short, they managed to get Johnny Young Bosch to reprise his role as Vash the Stampede. But everyone else was replaced. And surprisingly, the people they got to do Wolfwood and Milly were pretty freakin’ close to their original voices. Meryl’s voice, come on I know Luci Christian any-damn-where! Vash helps a young lady take out a big-bad guy (who turns out to be his father). And it has the feel of the original series where it’s set in a western town with lots of booze and shoot-em-ups! It’s an interesting side-story to the Trigun trilogy.

Trigun was a pretty good anime. I mean, not one of my favorites, but I can definitely see a lot of people sticking by this classic. Maybe you can chalk up my blah attitude to the fact that I’m not fond of westerns and I kinda took it out on Trigun. Or the fact that there was so much more that the anime could have covered before the end and the ending kinda felt off to me! Like I thought I was expecting more. But I suppose that’s what mangas are for. To be honest, the stories that really grabbed my attention were the back-stories with Vash and Knives and Wolfwood’s final episode.

*sniffles* At least Milly got one night of passion before he died!

If you would like to check out Trigun, all the episodes are available through FUNimation and Hulu (in both Japanese and English). And if you really like the anime, why not purchase the hard copies? Both the series and movie are available for home video.

Okay, that took me a while, but I’m glad to finish Trigun. What’s next on the FUNimation list?

EEHHHHHEEEHHHE

Fuck is that supposed to mean? What is that? Is that even in English?

YOU WILL BE HORRIBLY MUTILATED: The Isekai

Do you mean Re:Zero? That’s great…but that review’s not ready yet. And it probably won’t be until after April 2021! So let’s cast caution to the wind and pick another FUNimation licensed anime.

You’re watching Sarazanmai next. It’s best if you don’t ask questions.

Sarazanmai? The fuck does that even mean?!

OH. MY. GOD.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 14: Nicolas Flamel The scarlet plush carpet and gold trimmed furniture would have given it away, but Frank still easily deduced they must have landed in the Gryffindor common room even without that. 

They were obviously in one of the towers, the view from the window showing the Whomping Willow in the distance and Hagrid's hut smoking merely in a late afternoon sun. He'd always had a guess this particular house was opposite his own side of the castle, though he spun in a curious circle how remarkably more roomy it seemed, he'd been picturing medieval weapons upon all surfaces, and all the suits of armor to hang around in here.

Usual occupants of this place of course made themselves right at home, the four Marauders instantly claiming cushioned seats by the fire, though Black made a face as he lounged sideways across his, feet dangling near Potter's face. "Not as much fun when there's no competition for them."

Potter shoved the trainers away and seemed completely at ease with this, stating, "better than Guffin telling us off again for taking 'his' spot. Honestly, every time Percy's mentioned I think of that inflated Head Boy who thinks he owns this place."

"Which I still say is the reason not one person in the common room blamed you for getting the chair stuck to his backside," Pettigrew snickered.

"Down a chair, up a win," Lupin agreed as he slouched in his own nearest the fire and looked ready to take a nap.

Evans was resting on the girls stairs with a put out expression in place, evidently she'd tried to go up to her room to get away from all this for a moment but of course all of those were still blocked off.

Regulus was at the tables far away from everyone again, digging his pinky nail into the wood. Frank finally decided he was curious enough about this one and went over to sit next to him, Alice following in surprise.

"I don't think we've ever been properly introduced-" he tried to begin politely.

"Did you realize that the third or fourth time we went jumping around," he muttered back without looking up. He was still digging his nails into the wooden surface of the table and seemed completely transfixed on his task of carving something into place, without magic, which was odd in itself.

"Well to be fair, after all being shoved in a closet together, I think proper hello's were a thing of the past anyways," Alice said with chipper.

Regulus gave a small bit of laughter in agreement for that before using his other hand to wave vaguely. "These seats may not be sat next to a fire, but they're free."

"Thanks," the two said peaceably.

Awkward silence only hung though, as Regulus was being friendly enough but clearly not up to anymore of a conversation, so Frank summoned the book to him which somehow fell as if it had been stuck to the ceiling for whatever reason. Then he glanced up and saw that the house-elves had yet come through for a nightly cleaning, including unsticking many papers waded up to the wall with spit. He decided to use his wand to flip to the right part and continue.

The chapter itself certainly started off with a bang, not only promising more information of Nicolas Flamel being the chapter title, but a vivid nightmare that would give anyone the creeps. Then a tiny moment of joy in hearing of Quidditch practice for the Marauders, and then everything was ruined with Wood's announcement.

Not one of them could come up with why it was actually a good reason for Snape to be refereeing anything, let alone a Quidditch game. Though the idea sent the older Black into mirthless tears considering the only time he'd ever seen him on a broom before, even Evans was aghast at why he'd be doing any such thing.

It was clear he didn't like Harry, which honestly Lily couldn't much blame him for, but there must be some motive she was missing in him wanting to be closer to this game. She just wouldn't believe Harry's, or Potter and his gang's, motives Snape was after him. It was all the more depressing to her she seemed the only one left believing this, even as she watched Frank reading he wasn't doing a very good job holding himself back from nodding in agreement with the kids ridiculous desires of trying to get Harry out of this game.

Neville came as a nice distraction then, until she pursed her lips up in distaste that only Hermione really stood up to help him while every other person fell over laughing. At least Harry was being decent to him, he and Ron finally showing more worth than she'd ever seen of the Marauders as they spent time to make this kid feel better whom they hadn't anything to do with before now.

No one could have seen coming the answer to Nicolas Flamel being in a candy wrapper.

"To think that was dropped on us ages ago and none of us took notice," Frank grumbled, eyeing that with much less annoyance than he meant to, he was still smiling it had clearly meant so much to Neville.

"Who actually reads the cards," Regulus shrugged, looking on with intrigue the story was finally progressing again even while he defended, "it's just the rarity of the card you want, not what the wizard did."

"You knew this whole time!" Frank startled in surprise and the book fell out of his grip as he turned around to see Evans glowering at Potter, who didn't look remotely abashed.

He just shrugged casually and hardly turned to acknowledge her this time, like she'd interrupted an important conversation, "sure, I've had Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog card memorized for months now, knew Flamel was an Alchemist. Why the yelling?"

"You couldn't have shared that?" Regulus demanded.

Sirius rolled his eyes, all four looking dumbfounded at the others dumbfounded expressions. "And why would we do that? What reason have you lot given for us to be sharing anything with you?"

"Well it's not as if you've had anything else to do, I'm still the only one looking for a way out of this mess!" Evans thundered.

"Yes, and checking every door is really doing you good," Lupin muttered, probably more loudly than he meant to in the usually much noisier common room.

"Who says we haven't been doing that as well while being ahead of the lot of you on Harry's mystery," Potter challenged, a gleam in his eye making at least Frank realize this wasn't all show. The four of them had taken every opportunity to be quietly talking to each other, and though they'd only heard a few stupid comments, it did cross his mind for the first time they really could be up to something other than just goofing along for the ride.

Evans was still muttering some foul mouthed comments Potter had known something before her and even Regulus still looked outraged at this slight, but Frank just sighed and kept going on so that he could catch up.

Indeed Hermione's explanation fascinated him, the idea that such a Stone could exist was such a fundamental part of magic that seemed so unattainable the more he learned of it, he wanted to get his own hands on this stone purely for studying purposes, it was no challenge at all to see why Snape or anyone would want it. Of course Evans' nostrils flared further at this comment, and she began muttering for no one to listen about how it could be anyone in the world besides her best friend, but at this point Frank found it easier to ignore her, and didn't envy Alice. When the redhead finally had no choice but to admit to this truth all of them had accepted, it would probably fall to his girlfriend to comfort the girl, considering she was the closest things to friend Evans had in this room.

The kids discussion of what they'd buy with the Stone was amusing, and mirrored along with the Marauders. Though now Frank was listening for it, he did notice that they were speaking at a perfectly normal volume when the dialogue hovered in the story, but the moment another conversation broke out such as Alice trying to engage Regulus in this same conversation, the four boys turned into sudden whispers.

Potter did fall out of his seat in shock though at Harry's proclamation. "Merlin my kids suicidal! A maniac he knows wants him dead will be within arms reach of him during a dangerous bloody game, and he's still going to play!"

Frank couldn't help it that time, he fully turned in his seat, craning his neck around over the high back red pleather to get a look at those words escaping Gryffindors prized Chaser. Yet this was no joke, he was frowning heavily and ruffling his hair, looking genuinely concerned for the fate of this future child. Considering Harry's last Quidditch performance, Frank would have thought any parent would fear their child continuing in this game, but as far as he could tell Potter had brushed the whole thing off. Now though, it was clear he'd taken this threat far more seriously than any believed, especially Evans.

Her brows shot up into her hairline, shock finally the most prominent expression on her face except contempt as she gazed on at him as well.

Black snapped his attention away from this reaction fast enough though. "Would you get on with it Longbottom? I'd like to know if the kid lives past this next game."

He actually sounded upset as well, eyes more on his best mate than anything, but the genuine concern stunned him as much as Potter's reaction. Seemed those boys were even more invested in this Harry kid than any of them had yet realized.

Since Potter looked ready to snatch the book away from him any second if he didn't get on with it, Frank quickly read through the next parts, that pep talk from Wood somehow only mounting things up worse than whatever he'd been intending. Finally though, Frank didn't feel all eyes on him were a glare when Dumbledore was mentioned.

"I'm probably supposed to be relieved," Potter muttered, finally taking his seat but still shifting restlessly. "At the same time though, Dumbledore wouldn't be there if there wasn't something to worry about."

"Cheer up Prongs," Pettigrew said, clearly infusing that into his own voice far better than the others could have. "Maybe even the twins will be keeping a better eye on him considering the last game, if Harry even starts to slip one of them will scoop him up before Dumbledore can draw his wand."

"Yeah," Potter seemed cheered at once by this idea. "Then they can knock Snivellus out of the air for us on their way doing it."

Evans scoffed, the mood wasn't truly back to content, but Frank got through the match with only a few curses for the whole event. Turned out Harry wasn't even the one to be worried about during this game. Malfoy finally said one to many comments and Ron and Neville doing something about it was more of a show than Quidditch for once.

"I love Harry's friends!" Black cheered from his seat, all of them giving a great whoop of joy as the proceedings included yet more thrill of Harry winning the game in a record time!

The Gryffindors celebration was short lived. The same four boys who'd been high-fiving and cheering each other on as if they'd just walked away from their own game froze and went right back to uneasily listening when Harry turned around to do his next foolhardy stunt.

"This kid is unbelievable," Evans whispered. Who was mad enough to follow a teacher into the Forbidden Forest, and eavesdrop on that conversation?!

Regulus agreed with her, but his unintentionally glancing over at her for doing so was instantly corrected when they accidentally met eyes. He went back to digging his nail into the surface of the wood. In the time it had taken them to be in here, he'd done out a rough drawing of his family houses crest, two stars above a sword, separated by an arrow point. He was just putting the finishing touches of the shield around it when Frank's voice hitched in his own bit of concern upon hearing Neville came out unconscious for that squabble, but aside from Alice covering his hand with hers and squeezing the two passed over the moment. Considering the main kid had now been in four near death experiences already to Neville's one, he still thought they were overreacting.

The closing bit felt ridiculous on these kids parts, Regulus would agree with Evans scoff of disbelief up to a point. They truly couldn't see Snape as anything more than the lone man out to get this object, but Regulus more believed Quirrell could be in it for a cut. That little argument had hinted the two were trying to work out a problem after all, and the Snape he knew certainly didn't ask for help willingly.

[aaetherius]

@lucisflos​ asked:

Her birthday was today and already she gotten three bags of mail from her family the other being from the people they were letters wishing her a happy birthday the other bag were mostly the gifts there was few birthday wishes she got from the crew which was nice since she was already used to them she had to sort the rest of the mail later right now she just wanted to get some air and watch the stars from the deck she noticed Lucifer was also watching the night sky it made her smile because this spot is were they always meet he seemed to be drawn to the stars

Unprompted || Always accepting (feel free to turn into threads)!

                                                   ★ ☆ ✮ ✯ ―☼ ― ★ ☆ ✮ ✯

    Skydweller customs were still, in part, something he was learning of and about. In the time since his revival, he has taken part in a handful of holidays, and stepped foot on islands he thought he would never have the chance to see up close. Of course, he still had much he didn’t understand, or know of despite the extensive research he had conducted since settling upon the Grandcypher. The sheer volume of books he had read would have been impressive if not for the fact that he still had a growing collection stowed away both within his own room, as well as Sandalphon’s as they had outgrown the bookshelf he had been using some time ago. Each one just as fascinating as the last to him, regardless of the subject matter. And each one reminded him that though he had lived within these skies for thousands upon thousands of years, he was a stranger to this world, and to those who resided within it. The cultures and festivals and ideas mortals conjured up were vastly different from those of the Astrals, and even those of the Primarchs themselves. But he rather enjoyed it, being a curious person by nature. However, that did mean he had a tendency to miss certain things simply because he was unaware they even existed in the first place. Such, he imagines, was the case this morning when he had spotted Lucina opening mail from her family, and when the crew gave her their own, various, versions of well-wishes. At first it had left him confused, and mildly concerned - uncertain if something had happened to her family aboard, and thus had prompted everyone to attempt to cheer up. He had tried the same - making an extra round of coffee for her as concern seeped into his gaze, but he didn’t wish to pry so he had never asked her what information those letters she had been reading contained, assuming she might tell him whenever she was ready.

      It hadn’t been until nightfall that he had discovered the actual reason behind the uproar, and was relieved upon being informed that her family was perfectly well - it was simply her Birthday. That word had caused an entirely different wave of confusion that had taken a fair amount of effort to appease, and then a round of guilt for being unaware it was a custom to write letters or give a gift on the anniversary of the day one was born. The concept so terribly strange, to him, who had lived for so very long. But, he supposed, it made sense. Skydwellers had short lives - their years were nothing more than a blink of an eye to him, or rather, they had been, but they could change a mortal’s life entirely. So, of course, it made sense to celebrate one’s life every year. Being alive, after all, was something, as he had learned, to be cherished and celebrated. But, ah, by the time he had managed to understand the concept, the gentle warmth of the sun had faded away. Blue skies replaced by the darkness of night, and the shimmering hue of the stars speckled throughout them. The crew having already started to settle down for the day - going off on their own, or finding a calming place to relax. He wasn’t much different, finding a lonely place on the deck of the ship to sit down, and admire the sky from. His wings folded neatly behind him as he mentally counted the constellations he could see from where he sat, and wonders if there’s still anything he can give her to celebrate this day. She had, after all, been one of the first people he had befriended since being revived. To not celebrate, somehow, seemed an awful thing. 

      And, yet, it makes him wonder - when he had been created? He can no longer the date, if he had ever known it to begin with, but he does recall that it had been a mild day. The weather had been pleasant, and the flowers that grew wildly across Canaan were in full bloom. He can recall the melody of birds, and the soft buzz of bees. He recalls, of course, his own creation - when he had been given sight, and had first seen Lucilius’s face - his brows furrowed, and his lips pulled into a thin line as he studied him before, slowly, that expression had relaxed into something a bit softer. Or rather, as much as it ever could have, and as much as he would ever see again. He’s never thought much of his own creation, or rather, it happened so long ago that those memories have already been somewhat soiled by the events that had followed, and the ache he feels in his core whenever he recalls the days he had spent on a far more humble version of Canaan with only his creator and Belial occupying the land. To find joy in the day he had been created strikes him as odd, but it’s truly only recently that he’s been able to find joy in simply being alive. He prays, of course, that Lucina and the other members of the crew are different - that this life brings them happiness, and the suffering they’re forced to endure along the way doesn’t ruin the love they have for it, or that, if they can’t find some form of joy in it now, that they, too, one day, can learn how to enjoy the more mundane aspects of being alive. In thought, his wings flutter behind him, and he turns his head to catch the iridescent shimmer they cast upon the wooden planks of the ship. They hold none of the power his former set had - they’re simply an artificial vessel crafted by the hands of a skilled alchemist to contain just a meager and almost nonexistent fraction of the power he had given to Sandalphon so that he may continue to live. 

    The sound of footsteps draws him away from his thoughts, and he tilts his head to see the blue-haired princess walking towards him. A gentle smile is quick to slip onto his rosy lips as he greets her - drawing those same wings closer to she may sit beside him. To see her out on the deck like this wasn’t unusual - they both seemed to have a habit of watching the stars. “Good evening, Lucina,” he offers. “Forgive me for not preparing something for you. I am afraid that, even with all of the research I have conducted thus far, I had not learned of the act of celebrating the anniversary of one’s birth. I regret that I did not have a gift or letter prepared for you.” His smile nearly falters with the admission, and he makes a mental note to be more mindful when he cracks open the next few books on his list so he’s prepared to pick apart every single detail contained within their pages so he doesn’t make such a grave mistake again. “Next year, I will make certain I have a gift ready properly. This time; however, I am afraid I do not have much to offer you...” His gaze shifts to his wings once more - smaller than the ones he had once carried heavy upon his back, and he lifts his hand to gingerly reach up and pluck a large plume from amongst the other. When he turns it within his fingers, the blush hue that clinging to the edges of the white feather seems to glow ever so slightly. “Though it does not contain the power I once held, I pray it will bring you good fortune this year. Happy Birthday, Lucina.” Softly, he places the feather in her plume - the faintest hit of light running through its veins from the borrowed power that helps teether him to this world, and to the body the alchemist had crafted for him.      

[antihero-writings]

The Empty Throne (Ch2)

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist (Brotherhood & Manga)

Fic Summary: It's been a long time since that word died on Ed's lips...but relationships may be the only thing that can come back from the dead. || Exploring Ed and Hohenheim's relationship using the songs "Stumbling in Your Footsteps", "The Alchemist", and "Youth" as prompts.

Character focus: Van Hohenheim

Notes: I'm so sorry for taking so long with this one!! Hohenheim proved very difficult to write for... I hope you like what I ended up coming up with though!! And do let me know if there are any inaccuracies!!

This chapter is written for the songs "The Alchemist" by Nathan Wagner, and "Youth" by Daughter (with a little of “Stumbling in Your Footsteps” sprinkled in there from the last chapter). I highly recommend listening to them before reading!! (I can put links in a reblog!)

 FYI There is reference to a scene from Ch40 from the manga in here that I don't remember being in the anime!!

If you enjoyed this, if you could leave me a comment I'd really really appreciate it!! As always, I would absolutely love to write more about this fandom, so feel free to give me FMAB prompts!! You can drop them in my ask box!!

Chapter 2: Dying Angels

Van Hohenheim walked the streets of Xerxes for two days before he gave up believing that there was someone still alive out there. That there was hope. That he was just trapped in the most feral breed of nightmare.   Now he wandered into his home, though it didn’t feel like his own, rather just some place to rest his feet. An empty shell.   They’d all died. So why did he feel like the corpse?   “How?! How could you do this?! I thought you were going to make theKing immortal, not me!”   “Oh? But what do I care for a nameless king who will be dead in but a few years? It’s you who gave me life. How could I allow you to be sacrificed for his avarice?”    “How could you allow meto be sacrificed?! What about the people?!” He threw his hand behind him, gesturing to the empty city. “What about my friends?!”   “Didn’t I teach you of equivalent exchange? Immortality isn’t bought on the cheap.”  

“They’re all dead?! That’s your price?! Everyone I ever loved?!”   “Not dead just…” He pondered the right word. “redistributed. To be perfectly frank, I thought you’d be more appreciative of my gift.”

“Gift?! Who in their right mind thinks this is a gift?!”

“Doesn’t everyone want immortality?”   “Not at the cost of an entire kingdom!”

“Interesting…But now that you have it, free of blame, is it really so bad? You have everything you could ever want. Why, you could walk into the palace right now and take all the king’s treasures. No one would stop you.” He chuckled like this was all a grand joke—(he hoped it was). “Technically you’re the only heir left. …Unless of course you’d like to battle me for it.”   Hohenhheim held his head in his hands. No, too much was happening at once. Everything and nothing at all. This wasn’t possible. His friends, the entire kingdom, it couldn’t just be gone. There were cosmic rules about this, surely. Surely this couldn’t happen. The gods wouldn’t hit reset any second now.   Hohenheim leaned back against the door. …He didn’t really want to keep going, but, then again, he wasn’t sure this body would let him die.   There was supposed to be a bazaar happening that weekend. He would have liked to go to it. 

He had that book he borrowed from Meiyo. Van himself had taught him to read, so long ago. He would have liked to give it back, to discuss it with him.    He still had to ask Rhinemile if his son was feeling better...well, he surely wasn’t now...

—(Oh, god, not the children)—   He wanted to apologize to Willard for his rather rude behavior the other day. He was in a hurry but, well, it still wasn’t excusable.    And there was that girl down the street he’d always wanted to ask if she’d like to get dinner together some time. The one with flowers in her hair.     He sank to the floor.    He’d never get to do any of that now. Couldn’t rewrite the past few days with them filled in the gaps. Tomorrow, so much of life, snuffed out like all the promises of a better future, their lives pinched out like a candle.   Though they’d all died, he was the shade, wandering the streets of a manufactured hell. A vessel for all these wandering ghosts of everyone else.   He’d believed in god once. He wasn’t sure he did anymore.    They’d all died…so why could he still hear them? If he sat still long enough he could hear his friends’ dying cries, their pleas for mercy, as if his memories, like ghouls, decided to reanimate themselves. An eternal echo of their deaths. Dead…yet not dead. Their souls ensnared before they could reach the light at the end of the tunnel, trapped forever in this pitch black passage, bracing themselves for the end, which never came. Their voices, their emotions, ocean waves in a sea of bloody despair, and if he wasn’t careful, surely his own soul would drown in that sea of faces.    The more he tried to block them out, the louder they became.    Was this real? Or was he just insane, sitting in his house, and these voices were the calls of everyone trying to save him?    He pleaded with a nonexistent god for insanity.   The flashes still lingered across his brain; all the golden light turning to a sinister, haunted violet, those black hands still waving before his eyes, clawing at his sight, that eye still tasting his soul, and the blank Truth...   He was so cold.    His body, full of souls…cold as death. A walking gilded corpse; all that was left of his illustrious kingdom. The last survivor of a grand disaster…the unwitting accomplice of said disaster.   Why hadn’t he realized it sooner?   His kingdom had become a bone yard overnight. He wondered if future historians would come across the skeletons of his friends and the standing ruins, and wonder what could have possibly killed a flourishing kingdom in one night. 

Was that all they'd be? A question to history? Not a living, breathing, bleeding people? Would their blood, their legacy, be lost to the world?

The voices clung to him, begging for a mercy he was incapable of granting any of them, like he was a cliff, one they were at risk of plummeting down. Like he was the single branch keeping them all tethered to life.

Could they not hear him snapping at the seams?

The voices were so close. He hated how close they were. Like a bug on his back, but worse, a thousand bugs crawling on his brain, and they weren’t bugs at all…they were people. They were his friends. Everyone he once knew, and plenty of people he never met, swarming his thoughts every moment.     It’s sickening to have something crawling in the corners of your mind.   It’d been two days, but it already felt like a century. He wasn’t sure how much of this he could take.    But he would have to take it.    The Philosopher’s stone. He’d read about it in his master’s books, the Homunculus told him about it. At the time it had seemed like the best of dreams; the ability to bypass equivalent exchange, to turn lead into gold… maybe even bring back the dead? 

Not them though. He knew their souls were too lost to return home.

Now he knew what nightmares were made of; the best of dreams. That the worst thing humanity can get is three omnipotent, irrevocable wishes.

He’d walked around enough to know by now, he had the whole kingdom to himself. The Homunculus was right. He could march into the palace, pick up the jewels, sit on the throne. He had it all.   If only he didn’t feel so damn lonely.   He sat, and he thought, and he thought… and he thought. For there was nothing left to do but sit and think, and be swallowed by the quagmire of his own thoughts. Turned inside out. If only he could talk to someone, anyone. A fight with a neighbor would have been relief.   Was this what war felt like?    The silence was the worst part. Just how quiet the kingdom became in a single day. The shops devoid of customers, stoves left on, potters wheels still spinning, the streets empty; no kids playing in the.   The worst part. The silence…and the noise inside his head.   He held that infected head in his hands and, knowing the very worst nightmares are real finally allowed himself to weep.

******

The first time he died was from thirst, the second from starvation. Traveling the desert isn’t a riskless business you know. The third from that weird plant he thought was safe to eat (spoiler, it wasn’t). The fourth from exhaustion, the fifth from heat stroke. Each time he died he felt the weight of their souls lessen, become a little less active.     The sixth was at his own hands.   He wished he could grant them all mercy. It wasn’t long before he tried to end the suffering of all parties involved. The seventh and eighth were too.   He’d lost track of how many times he died by the time he came across a little mining town in the dunes, full of poor people, whose leader was bleeding their pockets dry.   What was it that drove him to help them? Was it sympathy? Pity? Some sort of hero complex?    There was a little girl in rags. He pulled a golden coin from behind her ear, so she and her family would be able to eat that night.    Next thing he knew the town was after him with pitchforks, wanting to know his secrets…willing to carve him up to search for them inside.   He never wanted to cause them any pain. He still believed there was good in them, that this didn’t have to end in blood.   They tore him to pieces.   They were just a little misled, it was his mistake for dangling treasures before their hungry eyes.    There was a general goodness to people. He still believed in it.   And he was right about some of them. Some were kind, there were plenty who appreciated his alchemy, who genuinely wanted to learn, who were grateful to him.   But it was probably around the seventh—or was it the seventeenth?—time he was killed for the crime of helping that he didn’t trust people so much.   They say compassion is weakness, and when he found it was so easy to help…so easy to die for it, he started to believe them. It became more difficult to have compassion when there was such a high price.     He could have created a palace out of nothing. He could have sat on a throne of glass in a kingdom of gold and disbelief. Walled himself away in a tabernacle to ungod beneath the ground. Never dying. Never living.    But he didn’t. He was too weak. Too kind. Too restless. So he continued to walk the world, without a home, hope, or a single fiend to call his own. A golden wanderer in a world of lead.   They’re right when they say history repeats itself.    He wished someone would just reset the needle. The gods should do it any second now.   Another day, another war.    For Hohehnheim, really, though he’d lived through many wars—(best have the immortal fight, yes?)—there was only one war: himself, and the world.    Trying to help, to save, people is much more war than it is peace.   Far too many people desire immortality. Far too few know what it really signifies…what it costs. Every time he heard another foolish mortal bragging of the path to immortality he longed to wrap his hands around them, and shake them to sense. But he didn’t. He let them follow their misguided ways, for their boasts were but empty air. They didn’t know what it cost, and surely never would. They’d be granted the mercy of death in the end, and Hohenheim would stand before their corpses, a heart full of envy.   It’s cruel to desire sickness in front of a sick man. Immortality was but a disease, and he longed for a cure. 

He grew used to it. To the dull repetition, and the petty goals, and the scorn, and the screaming.   Every day he woke up to the sound screaming within his own head. Ever those flashing lights of yesterday. Every day he fell asleep to the lullaby of cries for mercy. That endless black and red sea. He tried to row through it, but each new wave sent him tumbling to nothingness. Nothing, and everything; every emotion they ever felt.   He learned to block them out so he could hear his own thoughts. He learned to listen to them, so he could know they were people, once. Hard to do in tandem.    He tried to remember that they were all people once, and were still, despite the fact that there were little more than cries for mercy left on on the stove.   He tried to treat them as people even so. He tried to get them to sit down so he could talk to them. Tried to discern individual waves from the sea. Tried to urge them to speak of more than just pain. To speak of life, and dreams, and who they once were.    They were the only good part in all this.    It wasn’t a happy life, but he got used to it all…until he met her.    Was it selfish of him to want something for himself? 

******

 It’d been ten years. Ten years since he’d seen Trisha. Ten years since he’d seen Edward and Alphonse.    It went by like days to Hohenheim. Sometimes he forgot that a few years is a very long time to people who still feel the sting of the clock.  

And children feel it most of all.   What had happened in those ten ticks? Were they happy years? How would they have changed? Would Trisha scold him for taking so long? And Edward and Alphonse, well, they’d be teenagers now.   What kind of people had they become?   Would they take after him or Trisha? He hoped it was the latter.    Excitement and nervousness together flowed through him—though would could never tell by looking at his stoic figure. 

He walked up the hill. When he looked off in the distance to where his house was...he couldn’t see it.

He couldn’t have misplaced it, could he?

As he advanced the nervousness took precedence over the excitement.

Trisha said she’d wait for him...they couldn’t have moved, right? 

As he got closer the tree came into view, the one he tied a swing to before he left...except it wasn’t a flourishing oak as he knew it; it was barren of leaves, the top half of it painted black, its branches like a claw tracing the sky, still as death.

Horror twisted in his gut, his expression pulling taut. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and continued onward at a level pace.

When he arrived he fell to his knees.    His home, the place he loved, the place the golden wanderer had finally settled down...was a pile of charcoal. 

How was this possible? 

The excitement became a twisting, writhing, questioning thing.   He would have said some horrible disaster befell the neighborhood… if the other houses weren’t standing tall.    Was it some accident? Where was Trisha? Where were Edward and Alphonse? Were they okay? Why hadn’t it been rebuilt?   He turned to the house next door, like it was a sanctuary. The Rockbells. His last hope; there was Pinako at least. Hopefully she’d still be there, and could explain.    Slowly, trembling slightly, he picked up his suitcase, the handle digging into his palm, and stood up, marching to her door. When he raised his hand to knock his breath caught in his throat.

Maybe he shouldn’t knock at all. Maybe he should just leave, spare everyone the pain.

Maybe they didn’t want him here after all.

An old lady opened the door. The sight was like time slapping him in the face. He hadn’t realized quite how long it’d been till he saw how the years lined her face, like a well read book.    “Pinako…” He spoke, time catching in his throat. “I seem to have lost my house.”

******

They built a country out of nothing. It was incredible to be there when a nation was being delivered; it wasn’t in a hospital or a house, with blood and screaming, as it is with children, but in these empty fields, these barren sands, and was much softer. From their forests and fields arose houses and farms, and from the stones arose governments and laws.    And in this nation there was born a girl. Just an ordinary girl. He’d met many like her.    …He was much too old for her.   But she looked at him, and she asked him to dance…and he felt young, and like he hadn’t been wandering for centuries.   Why? Why would she pursue him when he was too old, too cold, too empty? What did she see in him?   He couldn’t let himself get close to her. Because, after all, she was human, and therefore going to die some day…And he wasn’t going to die, and he wasn’t even quite sure he was human anymore either.    She told him she wanted to be with him, even so. Even though he was like an old god, cracked and put together out of the souls of his people, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was allowed to be human.    She told him humanity was more than he knew. Stronger than he realized. It was only because they were weak that they were strong. That they were more than just an amalgamation of mistakes. That they could change. And that the knowledge that they were going to die was what made the whole not-dying part worth it all.   Trisha Elric was unlike those he’d met before.    They didn’t get married. He didn’t want to chain her to him. But they decided to start a life together in a quaint town in the middle of nowhere. 

There he could hear the sound of birds chirping, and the wind rustling through the trees.

The wandering god, the golden corpse, rested his feet for the first time in a few centuries. 

Family. The word once meant the world. He wanted nothing more than to start one. To meet a girl, to have children with her. Long ago he told the homunculus that’s what gave life meaning. 

Now he wasn’t sure his life was allowed to have meaning.    So when she told him she was pregnant...that slave boy staring at the sunset, thinking he had a bright, short future, held her in his arms and twirled her around him. All the while the golden wanderer’s heart grew weary, and scared.

Was this really okay? Was a thing like him really allowed to sit down while? How would it work with him the way he was, with bullet holes in his heart and all these voices in his head? Could he possibly be a father, have a family, after all?   He liked kids perfectly well…he just wasn’t sure about his kids.   Would his affliction be passed on to this unsuspecting child? Would he hear voices from the moment he came into this world, unaware there were people out there without voices in their heads? Would they keep him trapped in a bottle desiring freedom from his own head?

And if the child was normal…how could Hohenheim be a father in his condition? How could he speak comforting words when his head was full of unrest? How could his child love a monster?   They named him Edward, because they wanted him to be rich in spirit, and protect the hopeless. He kicked in her tummy a lot, and Trisha told him that surely meant he’d be a fighter after all.   When Edward was born he cried. Frequently, and loudly. Hohenheim protested much himself when Trisha handed him to him, but Edward wrapped his tiny grip tight around his finger, and while his golden eyes were soft and unsure, there was fire there. And, as he calmed down in his arms, Hohenheim smiled, and cried, and was pretty sure he’d melted.

And the voices said He’s beautiful.   Edward inherited the same golden hair and eyes that belonged to a people long gone, and Hohenheim was glad their blood ran through his veins, that the legacy of a people snuffed out, who should have had generations more, existed at least in him and his son.

And they were happy. And he thought he might stay a while.    When she told him she was pregnant the second time, the slave boy jumped for joy, and the butterflies in the wanderer’s stomach turned to bats.   Trisha picked Ed up and asked if he wanted a brother. He couldn’t talk at the time, but he made a gurgling sound they thought that translated to “Only if I’m still your favorite.”    And Hohenheim tried to hold on to that. This was for Edward. Not for himself. This was for Trisha. And Ed turned out well enough.

…No, he turned out better than “well enough.”   This one was much gentler; less tummy kicking, and when he came out he didn’t cry so much.   They named him Alphonse, because they wanted him to be noble, and prepared for anything.

The four of them were joy incarnate.

And the voices said It’s okay. You can have this.

So he tried to listen to them.

He wanted to spend every moment with them, every minute he could, and some moments he didn’t have to spare.

But the more he did, the more a darkness crept in.   How could they love a silhouette? They’d surely just forget him…and in a century or two, they’d be taste on his tongue he could never spit out.   Hohenheim grew used to immortality.    But when he looked into those lost, golden eyes he wanted to bleed. He wanted to age, and feel the aches and pains of it. 

He wanted to die.    For the living, death is ever approaching. For the gilded shades death is not easy to find.

He wanted to live, for them. He wanted to die, for them.

But he couldn’t find the cure sitting still.

******

 The glass previously in Hohenheim’s hand was in pieces on the floor, but he barely heard it shatter, the echoes of Pinako’s words the only thing in his head now. 

No. No this couldn’t be. Surely the gods would hit that reset button. Come on, any day now. 

Trisha couldn’t be dead. 

The woman he loved, decided to settle down, start a family with, she couldn’t be dead. No, that wasn’t possible. 

Pinako grimaced, adjusting her glasses.

“I’m afraid there’s more.” She took a drag from her pipe. “I wish I knew what they were planning, I would have tried to stop it... Edward and Alphonse...they attempted to bring her back.”

His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat.

“They attempted human transmutation?” he breathed. The words were coarse as sandpaper in the air. “You’re…sure?”   “Quite sure.”   He sat down; the weight of his own body, his own thoughts, too much to bear.   For far too long, the thought of seeing Trisha and his sons again had kept him going, kept him sane when he preferred to go crazy.

Coming home to find Trisha was gone, despite their promise to each other, that the last he would ever see of her was her standing at the door saying she’d wait for him. The woman he loved, the ordinary one, who told him people were more, the one he wanted to spend his life—as much of it as he could—with, the one who’d tethered the golden wanderer...he’d never, in all his millennia, get to see again.    And Edward and Alphonse had become accomplished alchemists…but they had had more of a chance to grieve, and that grief, sitting alone in the dark, became an animate beast. In their despair they had tried to bring her back…and weren’t entirely whole anymore because of it. They had seen the immaculate truth, and it tore them apart for the crime of loving their mother.    How could he possibly face them?

******

He saw the circle. The Homunculus drew a circle on the world as a line to know where to cut and make it bleed.   The images of the past redoubled, the voices coming to a crescendo, telling him together they could spare this world from their fate.    He had to stop it this time.    Last time he stood by, ignorant. He wouldn’t now. He was determined. There was no other choice.    And the price of saving this world, his family…was losing his precious years with them.

Equivalent exchange after all.    He had to destroy the middle for the sake of the finish line. 

He told Trisha he didn’t even want to say goodbye. He couldn’t bear to see their faces. If he did...he just might stay. 

When he stood at the door, and she handed him his coat, and they came of their own accord, he knew he was right.

Those golden eyes, those beautiful eyes he adored so much...seared him like a brand. In later years he would be certain they scarred him. He saw them and though the boys said nothing, blissfully ignorant of what was truly happening, everything in him—and was this really him, or the voices still?—pleaded:

Stay.   But he left anyway.

He had a world to save, after all.   He stood on the hill overlooking Resembool, staring back at his house, the shadows draping across the place where he spent his better years—where he heard the crickets, and the frogs, and the birds, and the wind, and his wife’s lullabies, and his sons’ laughter—forsaking the quaint town, his family, his life for the sake of the sea of faces, for the sake of the cure. 

“I’ll be back before you know it, Trisha. Just wait for me.”   They were the lucky ones. They got to breathe instead of heaving through corrupted lungs. He wanted to breathe too, that’s why he had to leave, after all.   The world was so empty. An emptiness that bored into his chest and made a nest there.   Long ago the Homunculus had wanted to leave his flask. He swallowed the pieces of Xerxes; the pieces of the world he once called home, now nothing more than evidence to be disposed of.    Now the Homunculus wanted to surpass god; cast a fishing line to bring god down and swallow him. To raise himself above all the spheres and look down upon them.    He wanted to create a tower high enough to reach heaven. A door that could open the stars.   He created a mark that no one could miss…except everyone standing on it.   And, with a body of his own—or something close enough, surrounded by people: by another country, by all the souls inside him, the Homunculus still sat alone in a jar.

******

He visited Trisha’s grave, if nothing else, to get proof that she actually was there. That she couldn’t be touched, kissed, hugged, spoken to, or otherwise loved.    If he had stayed…could he have saved her? Could he have kept his son’s from being torn apart in attempts to rewrite the past? 

Now she was just a name on a stone. He stood there, not entirely believing it, not entirely sure where to go from here.

Back to wandering, I suppose.   He wasn’t expecting—   When he saw that boy again, the boy from the doorway, the one with the sad, fiery golden eyes—the eyes that belonged to the sea of faces—he wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a teenager, and he wore grief like a medal, and Hohenheim knew there was real metal beneath those flashy clothes. There was fire in those eyes, still, but now it was fierce enough with a single look his gaze threated to scorch away his resolve.   That look. The same look from when he left all those years ago. That look that he couldn’t bear.    Edward was angry. He had every right to be…But the gilded sadness behind that anger was what he couldn’t bear.

Because it reminded him too much of himself.   No, I had to do this, I had to stop him, don’t look at me like that.    From the bitterness in his words, it became clear he was more than just a stranger in Edward’s eyes.   As they spoke, Hohenheim tried to look for any similarity, any connection, anything to tie them to each other, like clinging to threads on a fraying sweater.

Edward was reckless and wild, chasing visions of his future that would leave him bleeding, and that made him lucky. Hohenheim wished he could chase visions and bleed. That he would feel something anymore.

…But it wasn’t a fire that wrecked their home.   He hadn’t realized just how much he missed them until he tasted that taste again. Had his eyes been damp these ten years?   That night he drifted to Edward’s room like a lost spirit, walking up to where the boy lay sleeping.   The last he knew of them they were tiny things bumbling at his feet. Full of potential energy, waiting to fill out the molds of their bodies and names, and he didn’t dare touch them, for fear of infecting them with the sound of the sea.

Now that potential had become kinetic, and that name was more than just a word pronounced over him, it was something he was beginning to grow into. Time had begun to shape him. Though the more Hohenheim saw this, the more it seized him by the throat, asking him why he didn’t stay.

There’s nothing I could have done for them.

He wanted to talk to him. To ask him about the things he liked, the things he hated. He wanted to ask what those years were like, the good and the bad. To speak of those ten, and so much more. To watch the sunset and speak of tomorrow.

He wanted to touch him, for his touch to be gentle. He wanted to hug him, and cry on his shoulder and say I’m sorry and I wished I’d stayed and I‘d bring her back if he could. He wanted to help him on his journey, growing into that name he gave him. To be his father, even if it was just at the end.

But monsters have no right to touch children, especially not their own.

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 4

if you go crazy, i'd still make you mine

summary:  what if riza never went to war?  riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

chapter 3 | read on ao3

1909

loving takes patience

if you go crazy, i'd still make you mine 

The air was cool around them, neither too hot nor too warm. Every so often a blast of heat would fill the station as a train pulled in, making Riza sweat, but then in the next moment, a breeze would leave her with a shiver.

“There he is!” Rebecca cried, clutching Riza’s arm tightly. As she turned, Rebecca was already sprinting off to meet someone. Riza wouldn’t have been able to keep up, chasing after her friend, with the pram to navigate through all the people. So, instead, she watched as her friend jumped into the embrace of a man who laughed and hugged her tightly. Riza could see the resemblance. They had the same curls in their chocolate brown hair, the same face, and both were equipped with a brilliant grin that appeared to light up every room. He was definitely Rebecca’s brother.

Leaving them to their tearful reunion, Riza turned to scan the platform once again as soldiers piled off the train, Riza searched for her husband with her heart in her throat. Once again, the fear that he wouldn’t be the same man that had left threatened to consume her. She’d heard the news. Not that she trusted it much, but she’d heard of all the “grand” things the State Alchemists had done while working to crush the Ishvalan resistance. It might have been childish, but regardless of all that, Riza just hoped Roy was okay.

What was even more unsettling, was the mixture of reunions she’d seen on the platform. There were families reunited, crying happily together, and there were men and women who stiffened upon seeing their loved ones, then promptly walked right by with just a quick hello. Riza had seen the haunted look in their eyes, the way their loved ones just seemed to know that would happen… Riza wondered if they were the ones who’d wrote home about the horrors they’d witnessed. It would make sense, given there was no other reaction from their loved one, they just followed behind, hurrying to catch up, probably just hoping to help with something, anything… 

It hadn’t happened often, but after seeing it two or three times, Riza did begin to wonder… 

It did nothing to settle the lead weight in her stomach.

She also hadn’t spoken to Roy in over two months. She’d sent three letters in that time – all unanswered. There was probably a logical explanation for it. Roy loved her, there was no doubt about that, however, witnessing the not too happy reunions made her wonder.

Maybe he did still love her, but after what he’d done, he felt he didn’t deserve her.

Riza wasn’t stupid. He’d killed people in Ishval. That was what war was. Needless killing just to prove someone in a high position was better than another. Roy was a good person. He didn’t deserve to go through that. However, he’d told her all about his dream – to become the Fuhrer someday. That meant making a few sacrifices. Riza just hoped that didn’t mean his sanity or who he was.

Nevertheless, they’d work through it. They always had, and, going forward, they always would, Riza vowed. They were a family now. They had a child depending on them. She understood and told herself he was in for a culture shock with little Mia and he was going to need time to adjust. It would be hard, especially after coming back from fighting in a war for nine months.

They were a unit, and no one would take that away from her. From them.

“Riza!” Rebecca called to her, tearing her attention away from the departing train. Roy wasn’t on this one. The next train was due in twenty minutes. Maybe he was on that one? Chris hadn’t told her a time, just that it would be today. And to be perfectly honest, she’d wait there all day if need be.

“Hello,” Riza greeted with a smile to Rebecca’s brother.

“Riza, this is Andrew. Andrew, meet my good friend, Riza.”

“Good afternoon, Miss,” he greeted, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. Riza plastered on a smile and willed herself not to snatch her hand back. He was just being polite, but Riza had never been a big fan of personal contact, especially from strangers. Her father had ruined that for her. Her back tingled as a reminder. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“I met Riza the day you were shipped out. Her husband left on the same day.”

“And you’ve been making friends, I see,” he grinned, turning to his sister.

Rebecca nodded. “Yep,” she replied, confident. “And I couldn’t have asked for a better person.”

Riza blushed, turning her gaze away in embarrassment. “Rebecca –”

She was cut off, because as she looked over Rebecca’s shoulders, she saw someone staring at her. By chance, she’d caught their eye, and black orbs stared back at her, transfixed. Forgetting she was in the middle of a conversation, Riza stepped forward, leaving Rebecca, Andrew, and even Mia behind.

It had been nine months since she’d last seen him on that station platform. He looked so much older. Dark circles shrouded his eyes, making them look bruised. Had he been sleeping enough? His eyes nor expression gave no indication of his mental state, and that drew Riza up short.

“Hey, Riza! Where are you –?” Rebecca called, but she barely heard her.

What if they had a reunion like the ones who were too scared to face their loved ones again? What if he breezed right past her and kept on walking? Riza would have no idea where he’d go. They lived here in East City, and his mother’s house in Central. There was nowhere else for him to go. What if he turns his back on you?

She’d been so strong throughout his leave. She hadn’t complained, she’d just gotten on with it because that was all there was to do. She’d carried their child to term during that time and gave birth. She’d done all of that by herself. Seeing him now, with the possibility of him turning around, threatened to crack all of that inside of her. If he left her for good… Riza wasn’t sure what she’d do. The thought made her feel numb.

She’d just have to get on with it. If that’s what he decided, Riza would give him time. She hadn’t been in the war. She hadn’t been there. There was no way for her to imagine the horrors he must have seen. So, she’d accept it, and give him space.

She had never been one to cause a scene. She’d accept it, and work towards a solution.

Take it one day at a time.

Time stood still, waiting for one of them to make the first move. Riza didn’t want to approach any further. She’d let him come to her, if that’s what he decided. He looked haunted. He was completely changed from the man who’d left her. The twenty-one-year-old now looked like he was in his late thirties. Battle hardened. Seen too much.

Done too much.

“Gracia!”

A loud yell startled Roy, and Riza watched as he turned to face a man who was rushing past him to his right. He made a beeline for Gracia – a woman Riza had made close friends with through Rebecca during her pregnancy. Riza hadn’t even noticed she was there.

“Oh, Maes!” she cried, her face becoming more tear stained. Riza briefly recalled Gracia speaking of a man she had in the war. That was what had drawn the trio – Riza, Rebecca, and Gracia – all a little closer. They all had someone dear to them away fighting.

The two embraced tightly. The man, Maes, peppering her face with kisses and she laughed and cried, clutching him tightly.

Riza had to look away. She –

Roy was right in front of her. His eyes burned with such an intensity that her surprised “oh!” died on her lips. Then, his face crumpled. He cupped her face in his hands and drew her close to him, kissing her tenderly. Riza was shocked for a second, but then she reacted by throwing her arms around his neck tightly. She clutched at the back of his uniform, trying to reassure herself that this was real, this was happening. He hadn’t breezed past her, too afraid to face her after fighting.

“Is that him?” she heard Andrew whisper.

“Yeah. A big State Alchemist.”

“Oh… Oh shit, its him!”

“I missed you so much,” Roy whispered, pulling away just enough so he could meet her eyes. His breath skated across the skin of her face, leaving gooseflesh to rise on the skin of her arms, as well as her scalp. His scent enveloped her, washing over her and soothing every nerve. It was different than what she remembered… There was a hint of sand and ash mixed in with his usual smell, enough for Riza to notice it as he embraced her. Usually there was always a smell of smoke clinging to him, thanks to his alchemy. It mixed in well the comforting smell of his aftershave, but this… This was different.

“I missed you too,” she whispered. “I love you.”

Roy crushed her in his embrace. “I love you too.”

“Thank you, for coming back to me.”

“I promised I would, didn’t I?” he asked with a smile, but it looked slightly strained and tired.

“You did,” Riza confirmed, pressing a hand to his cheek. She kissed him again, desperate for the contact after nine months apart. “There’s someone else here to see you as well.”

His face perked up and he looked every part the boy she remembered from her childhood. Gone was the soldier who’d just returned from war. In its place was the nervous teenage boy who had tried to hold her hand for the first time.

Riza gripped his hand tightly and escorted him over to Mia’s pram. She was asleep, one hand fisted and lying at her head, the other trapped underneath her blanket.

“Roy, meet your daughter. Mia Mustang.”

He was frozen in time. Riza watched him observe his daughter. His eyes roamed over her tiny body. He reached out to touch her, then his hand recoiled quickly. It didn’t move too far. It was suspended in the air above her.

Riza placed her hand on top of his gently and guided it down, her fingers pulling away the blanket that was threatening to cover her face. She had a habit of kicking in the night, sending the piece of cloth one of Roy’s sisters had knitted her either down to her feet or to cover her face. As soon as his fingertips contacted her skin, it was like he’d been shocked. Riza removed her hand, but Roy’s stayed, stroking Mia’s cheek lightly. Mia yawned in her sleep, and Roy gasped. He melted there on the spot.

“Here,” Riza murmured, guiding his hand again. She nudged Mia’s closed fist with Roy’s finger and their daughter latched onto it. When Riza smiled up at him, she discovered Roy was crying.

“She’s amazing,” he breathed, breath hitching once, then twice. The tears were falling freely, his body shaking, but making no noise. Riza wrapped an arm around his back and squeezed tightly.

“You’re a father, Roy.”

His free arm wrapped around her shoulders tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled through his tears, still unable to tear his eyes away from his baby girl.

“For what?” Riza asked, while running a hand up and down his back. She’d slipped it underneath his military jacket and basked in the warmth of his back. She felt the hardened muscle underneath his shirt, alternating between skimming her hands over it and rubbing small circles with her thumb against it.

“I left you, and you did this wonderful thing all by yourself. You carried our child alone and I –”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” she whispered. Riza turned and buried her face into his chest. Both Roy’s arms wrapped around her this time. He clung to her even tighter. “I promise. We both knew what we were getting ourselves into.”

He breathed out loudly, as if expelling all his sadness in one go. When he met her eyes again, they were wet, but his tears had stopped. “She’s amazing.” Roy looked down at Mia who yawned again as if on cue. Riza chuckled quietly at his quiet gasp.

“And don’t worry,” Riza added. “I wasn’t alone.” He shot her a questioning look. “I had some wonderful people looking out for me along the way.” Riza looked around but couldn’t see Rebecca. She searched the busy station again, but she and Andrew were nowhere to be seen. “Oh, they must have left.”

“Who?”

“There was a lady at the station the day you left. We quickly became friends. Her name is Rebecca.”

“I’m glad,” Roy replied, looking at her with a weird, kind of proud, smile on his face.

“What?” Riza asked.

Shaking his head, Roy dismissed her question. “Nothing. Shall we go home?” he asked with uncertainty.

“Yes, of course.” Riza took the handle of Mia’s pram.

“Do you mind… if I push her?”

Riza’s smile widened. “Of course not.”

Slinging his pack over his shoulder, the trio left the station, a family reunited once more. Riza didn’t stray far from his side. Her hand slipped back underneath his military jacket as they walked, returning to being splayed across his back.

“I must warn you though,” Riza added once they were on the busy streets of East City. “Your mother is in our apartment.” Roy stiffened and Riza laughed to herself at his reaction.

“Why?”

“She’s been helping while you were away. She said she wasn’t going to leave until you were back. Surprisingly,” Riza admitted. “She slipped into the role of Mia’s grandmother very well.”

Roy nodded, but still looked nervous. “At least I know you’ve been well looked after. I’m not so sure I’m looking forward to the chewing out she’s going to give me, though.” Riza laughed and it felt like they’d slipped back into old times.

It turns out she had nothing to fear after all.

Right?

[galaxy-parchment]

A sneaking suspicion

1 : 2 : 3 : 4 (you are here) : 5 : 6 : 7 : 8

The next few days of investigating were an absolute nightmare.

Between keeping Jekyll off of their tails, finding evidence and trying to find any sense in what any of it meant had Rachel and Lanyon more confused than when they had started. Lucy’s gang couldn’t find a single hair to indicate that Hyde even existed, the matter of Henry’s will was still up in the air and with Frankenstein hanging around the society he seemed to be spending a lot more time rekindling his love for alchemy, whether it be in finding her a cure or simply vying for her favour in him being a ‘true scientist’, whatever that meant.

Jekyll had become more cautious too. After their office heist he seemed to have caught on that someone was onto him, though thankfully he didn’t seem to have any suspicions aimed towards his closest friends.

His office was now locked even while he occupied it and he refused to leave anyone in there unattended. Unless they became master thieves sometime soon, they needed a different approach. Thankfully Henry wasn’t the only alchemist at the Society, so Virginia Ito found Dr Lanyon at her door that afternoon.

“Ms Ito, how have you been?” Miss Ito turned to him and casually leaned against the side of her workbench.

“I assume you need me for something, Dr Lanyon? You’re not one to make house-calls with lodgers for the fun of it” She said as she casually leaned against her workbench, both hands gripping the edge.

“I was simply wishing to get some clarification on something alchemy related, since Henry isn’t all that talkative about it”

“Ask away”

“Does he still do his own experiments?”

“Not that I know of, except for fixing up Doctor Frankenstein, but I doubt he’s making up new medicines, since his work is apparently dull and academic.” she said with a hint of mocking in her voice.

“I just think it’s odd since he used to be so absorbed in his work, what with the shutting himself in his room and testing out new theories for days on end.” He said cautiously. Usually he wouldn’t be so open about this sort of thing but he had to get the information he needed.

“Yeah, he did used to be a lot more involved with his experiments. I suppose when you’ve got a student there’d be less time for furthering your own work”

“Student?” This was certainly news to Lanyon.

“Hyde. The man’s wild for sure but he knows his way around a chemistry kit. Where else would a guy that spends his free time drinking and fucking learn advanced distilling methods?”

“And how exactly do you know this?”

“The bastard snuck in here late one night to make an aphrodisiac, ruined a perfectly good flask with his first attempt. I never even got any justice for that, Jekyll just said that he can play around with my kit if he likes but he ‘told him off’ for it.” She complained, the annoyance in her voice abundantly clear.

“My heart bleeds for you, Miss Ito” Lanyon responded sarcastically

“All due respect, sir, you asked”

“Fair enough, thank you for your time, good day to you” He concluded with a wave of his hand as he made his way back through the door.

“To you as well, sir” She responded as the door clicked shut behind him, turning back to the bench to return to her work.

This was becoming stranger by the minute. The more he learned about this debacle to less sense it made.

-

Rachel was stirring a pot in the kitchen in preparation for yet another dinner for the lodgers when Dr Helsby and Mr Griffin decided to keep her company as she cooked. No doubt the smell of the stew had attracted them both.

“Why Miss Rachel, I insist on lending a hand and passing out dinner tonight” Mr Griffin offered

“So you can take the best bowl for yourself, not a chance, this isn’t leaving the room until Dr Jay shows his face downstairs, I told him he was eating dinner tonight and by god am I gonna watch him eat this damned food”

“As if he’s gonna come down for dinner, Rachel, it’s nighttime, he’s probably done his little disappearing act like he always does” Dr Helsby butt in with annoyance

“Oh, don’t be silly, he’s just in his office at this time”

“Not since he hired Hyde, he isn’t. Don’t tell me you’ve never checked on him”

“Well Hyde hasn’t been around recently, besides, I’m not the sort of woman to go snooping in on a man when he says to leave him alone”

He simply gave her a knowing look, having known her approach to many men in the past. Rachel felt her face grow warm.

“Well- well point taken but- but I wouldn’t just go waltzing in there whenever I feel like it”

“Point is, there’s no way you haven’t noticed that whenever Hyde has left for one of his bar crawls, Jekyll isn’t anywhere to be found either. I reckon that they go out together so they can sleep together at Hyde’s place without drawing attention.” He snickered.

“That’s enough outta you, mister, you get dinner last!”

“What? No fair!”

“I think it’s quite fair, Helsby, you should stop embarrassing yourself and leave” Griffin mocked

“I’m just saying that if they weren’t shagging then they wouldn’t make such a damn good effort to never be seen in the same room! I can say for sure that I’ve never seen Jekyll standing next to Hyde, otherwise they’d be all over each other.” He remarked as he strolled out of the kitchen huffily.

The comment stayed with Rachel as she scooped out portions into everyone’s bowls. Jekyll wouldn’t mind if he was late to dinner tonight anyway. She was far too lost in thought to realise that the man in question had quickly crept back to his office after overhearing such slanderous gossip.

-

He couldn’t ignore it any longer. Someone was clearly onto him and he had an awful feeling that Rachel and Lanyon were the ones stirring up trouble. He thought it odd that they were the only ones not present during the argument yesterday, with his very private drawer left open, but after getting a stray comment from Ito about how Lanyon had stopped by to ask about him and the conversation he overheard with Rachel, he had no other conclusion to come to than that they were going behind his back to figure out why he’d been acting strangely.

If they found out, God knows what would happen. They probably wouldn’t look at him the same way again and he’d be sent to Bethlam without a second thought. He couldn’t bear to think about it.

What could he possible do? His closest friends had turned on him and he had been left with no options. He gathered up all evidence that he had even touched a flask in the past decade and stuffed it in his desk drawer and locked it. He couldn’t destroy his life’s work, but there wasn’t much else he could do right now. Hopefully it was enough for now.

[livayl]

dusty libraries are a wonderful thing

A very friendly hello to the Marya & Amaziah Anon and of course to everyone else too. :) This is a light, not very plot heavy allergy story. For me it´s kinda self indulgent because: The whole thing is basically a big sneezing fit (stifled and not) wrapped in a longer allergic prelude and accompanied by a more than slightly intrigued Marya. Hope you still like it and please only reblog to other sneeze-kink blogs, thank you. :)

Warnings: Some uncovered sneezing that does not hit a person but some books. No actual mess but lightly described spray. The little "bonus" dialogue at the end was more for my own weird self (my sense of humor sucks) but I kept it in anyways. * the gasped out part means something like “oh please not again”. 

Normally the old and eerily quiet library wasn't a place Marya would choose to reside in for too long. It was a vast room with a high, dome like ceiling and up reaching walls that were buried by almost infinitely towering up shelves heavily burdened with ancient knowledge, weighted down by time.

Although every surface was meticulously cleaned, amber colored maple wood glossy and smooth, the air seemed to be infused with it as well: It had a really dry, chalky quality to it that was palpable in taste and sight: Even the smallest incidence of light illuminated finest dust particles in their infinite dance from one remote corner to the other. Sky blue eyes followed as they were floating teasingly between the maze like aisles shadowed by bookshelves.

In all it´s muted width filled with way too much in depth wisdom, the library seemed to be the perfect home for its dusty, antique occupants. The reserved, echoing silence was something that made the young Alchemist feel misplaced like an item stored in the wrong shop. Thus, she did her best to avoid the extensive premises as much as possible. But today Maryas uncomfortable stay seemed to be rewarded as it appeared that the spacious room had its own inconvenient effects on her companion despite all the carefully taken measures to avoid them. 

With progressing time it became clear that Amaziah, usually fitting in perfectly with all her withdrawn wisdom and ancient power, seemed increasingly bothered by the dusted atmosphere. What had started as a fleeting discomfort and a swift scratch here and there had soon grown to a sensible irritation. Over time the Archmages senses had become increasingly itchy, her sinuses so vexed that her already narrow nose had swollen shut. It was hard not to pay attention to those softly parted, pallid lips. Not to listen to each wavering catch of breath. 

Marya watched as her Lovers thick, raven lashes started to flutter and blur her sight that had lost its focus. Sharp, black laced knuckles came up to itch an already blushed nose that crinkled in distaste. A sudden inhale demanded a stalling press of fingers against a quivering septum followed by a shaky, relieved exhale. The elegantly structured, cloth veiled hand then rose even higher to rub another prickle out of teary, glassy eyes before it was lowered and placed mannerly again. That highly unusual display of softness was pure indulgence mixed with a present intimacy reserved and displayed solemnly to Maryas  presence. It warmed her heart while making other things inside her flutter eagerly. Never-ending moments of quiet, concentrated reading later the intrusive particles started to take their toll on that handsome, refined nose again. Tear shaped nostrils widened and prolonged themselves even further, exposing the already shiny septum a little more with each irritated flare.

Marya shamelessly watched as Amaziahs contoured brows knit together almost angrily and her eyelids closed with all black feathery hairs resting on pallid skin. Then she swiftly brought her gloved hand up to pinch her trembling nose shut between thumb and index finger as the long overdue sneeze finally overtook her and turned an otherwise delicate mouth into a sharp snarl. Preluded by the most restrained inhale it was barely detectable in sound but seized and shook her whole frame forward. The mages knees almost bumped at the tables underside as her upper body crumpled over the lectures. Right after the first one came a sudden gasp that mingled with the still lingering achy aftermath. Nostrils stubbornly opened even further against silky fingertips as Amaziahs still sealed lips turned downwards on the edges. The Archmage shook her head in frustration, her breaths already deepening, shimmering obsidian strands of hair that had been loosened by the previous outburst followed the motion. Regrettably the pleasant view became obscured as Amaziah turned sideways to forcefully stifle against the crook of a shaking arm. "hhheh-kdnxxt-ugh" Not loud enough to produce a far reaching echo the failed restraint was still clearly audible, sounding strained this time as well as followed by a wet, productive sniff. "Gesundheit my dear..." Marya whispered while gently rubbing Amaziahs back.

"Pardon me... Would  you- snfff- uh- mind if I blow my nose?" "Of course not, silly." Marya snickered and planted a kiss on a cool cheek. " Also, there´s no need to withhold yourself." She added. Her hand was still resting on her Loves body as she felt her take a deep breath to softly blow into an ironed handkerchief- genteelly silent and one side after the other. The action had been very polite, probably too much so because it did little to clear her sinuses of the persistent itch.

Amaziah could feel it travelling deeper, growing more urgent again and frowned in dismay. Her handkerchief clad fingers were already on their way towards pinching that misbehaving appendage again as a gentle grip around her wrist stopped it. "Hey! No hurting yourself again." Marya said sternly. "Y-youhh just want to listen and wa-haah- HA-DZSCH!" Amaziah tried but was interrupted by the too fast peaking sensation that resulted in an uncovered, barely stifled and spraying sneeze. "Aw... Gesundheit." Marya giggled in response, still captivating the mages hands. "Yes I like watching that. But I don´t like it when it´s painful for you." "And Ihhh- I don´t like or neheh-need everyone hearing me." Amaziah responded, face all scrunched up against the mounting sensation. "But I love hearing you very much." The younger elf whispered and pecked a playful, feather soft kiss atop her Loves twitching nosetip. 

This small little provocation seemed to be enough to push the Archmage over the edge, deep into a much needed fit. Marya watched fascinated as Amaziah angled her upper body slightly to her unoccupied side, titled back her head and sucked in a deep breath- so urgent she could feel the tension bleeding through the enfolded hands. "AH-ERSSSCH-uh! HAH-ERRSCHHHiuh!" The double had been loud, creating an expressive echo, the second sneeze more unrestrained and wet than the first. The released translucent mist accompanied the fine clouds of dust languidly floating around in rays of sunshine. "Gesundheit! Oh- again?" "I´m sorry" came the gasped reply in an unusual quavery, high pitched tone that got almost drowned in the already starting build up. "HahEERSCHH-ue! Heh- HAH-AESSCHHh-uh! oh-*iyn var alnaiy - Huh-EEERSCHh-ah! -EHSCHUE!- EISSSCH!- ERSSCHh-iuh!" This time, the sneezes had started harsh, slightly drawn out and violent only to shorten to increasingly urgent outbursts that messily tumbled above each other towards the end. Marya had given up on holding hands and instead gently hugged and comforted the distracted mage.

"Aw poor darling... Many, many blessings to you, my sweet. Now you have me a little worried." She cooed while caressing Amaziahs side and tucking back hair that had now floated out of a loose bun completely. "Excudse mde..." Came a stuffy and hoarse whisper. "Shhh, it´s all good... But I think your medication is wearing off... How about I get you outside a little?" "I´m ndot dodne here..." "Oh yes you are for now... I can barely understand you. Come, get up. I´ll take the scribbles for you." 

Amaziah blinked away allergic tears, her gaze wandering from the badly affected scrolls to Maryas warm and loving expression. "I´m snnrff really dreading to explain how and why I ruined those..." She mumbled embarrassed. "Pfft!" Marya could not help but laugh loudly. "Surely Cailean will be very understanding."

-----------

Unfortunately for Amaziah her normally timid and forbearing scholar and librarian did seem more shocked by that unusual incident than sympathetic. Cailean had already been drawn closer to the Archmages study by the unmistakable sounds resounding through his workplace often equated with a personal sanctuary. Turning around one of the narrow aisles he nearly stumbled into the two women. About to address his concerns Cailean had started to question Amaziahs well-being as his gaze located the sloppily rolled, stained ancient scrolls in Maryas arms. The sight made his green eyes widen incredulously behind delicate, gold framed glasses.

C: "What in- pardon my tone... Your grace, may you tell me what happened to those? They are all smudged, blurred and... Filthily wet?" M: *suppressed chuckling* A: "That... Was an unfortunate accident." M: "pffft *laughs*"

C: "Pardon me again but how? You always handle all books and  exhibits with so much care. And never bring something to drink or eat with you." A: "Of course not, that would be neheh-negligent. Is the damage repairable or have I done a permanent ha-harm to the scrolls?" C: "I´m positive that I´ll be able to fix most of it easily but- " A: "Hah-kngxt-uh!- huh- apologies." 

C: "Anvael ci na´eve, your grace. Are you- hold on. Did you sneeze on them?" A: "...No?" 

M: "Maybe a little? But like, several times?" C: "..."         C: "Well, I did overhear something a few minutes ago..." A. "..." C: "How inappropriate!-... Of me... To forget... Providing enough handkerchiefs next to your desk..." M: "Yes you really should be ashamed of yourself, Cailean." A: "..." <- is really ashamed of herself. C: "I really should..."

[rei382]

“Marry me.” (Roy/Ed if you don't mind and whatever you want to use for inspiration)

Title: The Truth About Love

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types 

Rating: Teens and up

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply 

Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang 

Characters: Roy Mustang, Edward Elric 

Summary: Did Ed actually just ask Roy to marry him?

“Oh my God, marry me,” Ed said as the door closed.

Roy looked at him and blinked, surprised, but Ed looked right back at him, fixated and looking damn serious despite his disheveled hair and hand stuck mid-motion between picking up the omelet Roy made for him from the plate and placing the food in his mouth. Out of all the possible reactions, this one was probably the last one Roy expected when he heard the knocks on his door that were so distinctively his crazy neighbor’s. Quite on the contrary, he expected him to shy away, to feel as if the weird lady was intruding on something extremely private. After all, this was the first morning they shared together, and this whole ‘couple’ thing had been new to them both.

“Excuse me?”

It wasn’t that Roy didn’t like Ed. Quite on the contrary. Even though it’s only been two weeks since they started dating, Roy already figured out that he was different than any of his previous partners. For one, he didn’t care whatsoever about his powerful position. Well, that was not true, Roy realized a second later. He cared – but only in a way that it was more likely to be a deal breaker for him when most people tended to approach Roy because of it. They also had a lot in common. Not just interest-wise, though they did have a lot of that too, but life experience. Despite his age, in a way, Ed had been through just as much as, if not even more than, Roy had. There were many ideologies and views they shared. Not that they agreed on everything. They also had their fair share of arguments, though for now it was all in good spirit.

But to go from that, to marriage?

“You don’t have any milk.”

Roy blinked again. “I know I don’t. That’s what I just told dear old Mrs. Cole. I don’t use it. Can’t stand it on anything other than cakes and cookies. That’s hardly a reason to – “

“Oh, I know,” Ed sounded as if Roy’s comment came out of nowhere. But as far as Roy was aware, it was Ed who decided to bring up the subject, and Roy had to cut this thing at its bud. “But I mean, you hate milk. You have no idea how much shit I had to go through my entire life just because of that evil beverage.”

“Well,” still cautious, but a less terrified, Roy started making his way back to the dining table. He resumed his seat, but did not return to eating his breakfast. “’Hate’ is a really strong word. Wouldn’t want it in my coffee, and I don’t bother buying it unless I’m baking something, but… ‘hate’?” he paused, seeing the expression on Ed’s face. “You have really strong feelings about it, don’t you?”

As if having Roy joining him at the table again was a cue, Ed put the omelet in his mouth, and chewed. “It’s evil.”

“It’s just liquid. It’s disgusting on its own, and I personally will never understand people ruining a perfectly good coffee with it, but ‘evil’?”

“You know what? I take that marriage proposal back.”

Roy looked at Ed, who kept eating as if in the past five minutes he didn’t go from proposing to a man he had been dating for two weeks to backing out of it just over milk. Was it a hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth, playing there between each bite?

Roy smiled to himself and shook his head. “Well, maybe you’ll offer again one day,” he said casually. “Then you will get to tell Mrs. Cole we have no milk. You can even add how evil you think it is, if you feel like it.”

“You’re jumping ahead of yourself. We just fucked for the first time, Roy. It was nice and all, but really, way too early to be talking about me living here and talking to your weirdass neighbors.”

At that, Roy laughed shortly, and resumed eating his breakfast.

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 19

Last time, Ross lived and was snuck out to Xing, Ed got yet another reason to hate Scar, Barry met himself, and Gluttony paid Riza a visit. Onwards!

Oh dear, all Roy can hear is gunshots from “Elizabeth”’s end. Go, Flame Alchemist! Save your bestie! Never mind, let’s just ignore the fights and go back to Sword Guy utterly disregarding the notion of Confidentiality. He says that Barry says the Colonel’s got a plan to smoke out the Goths from the Fifth Laboratory. This causes Al to head out, searching for Hughes’ murderer. Stop whining Ling, Al will tooootaly tell you when he gets back. Later, Winry! Episode 19 - “Death of the Undying” Uh oh, Gluttony’s got Riza by the neck, and she’s out of ammo. The Goth just chuckles at his multiple headshots, he’s about to eat Riza someone quick dog? Where’d the dog come from. Oh hey, Fuery’s here! Thanks for tossing Riza a new pistol, you’ve almost made up for ruining my Fuhrer Fury joke with this! Two people shooting at once is a bit more effective, but only just. Gluttony’s knocked to the window but his big frame doesn’t fit, and he’s healed up from the bullet holes in a few seconds as Riza and Fuery click their now-empty weapons. Ok, time for the backup of the backup to arrive!

Oh my Leto it is so satisfying to see that Goth go flying out the tower to the caption of [Gluttony screams]. Nice timing, Roy, good hustle! Riza… is not exactly appreciative of the rescue, yells at Roy for leaving his post and blowing his plausible deniability. Fuery just chuckles at them going at it, looking down at the charred body and wondering who the fat guy was. Ok, now get down there and finish the job, Gluttony isn’t finished off just- Whoop, Bio!Barry’s making a break for it, with the homicidal Soul Armor in pursuit. Roy and Riza bark out orders to the minion and mutt respectively. Then slooowly walk down the stairs as Riza thanks Roy for saving their life, Roy’s too focused on the mission to see her smile. Daw. Huh, once again Roy makes better time than I thought, Havoc’s barely run a few paces before he pulls up in a car and tells to loser to get in, they’re going Goth hunting. And then Al shows up! Buckle up buddy, time for a chase through the city. Well at least Barry’s having fun, chasing down the meatbag to do an impromptu funeral. Riza’s reloading and wondering if Blubber Man’s going to stay down, less sure than Roy after her own bullets had next to no effect. Al asks if he had an Uroboros tattoo, when she confirms seeing on his tongue he identifies him as a Homunculus. Hey, watch where you’re driving Roy! Said Colonel isn’t exactly happy to learn that the Goth probably survived the barbecue. Much later, looks like they’ve cornered BioBarry in the Third Laboratory. A direct tie to the military, then? Well, with that connection they can pull back. Uh, Barry? That is the opposite of pulling back. And Roy’s happy about this? Oh I get it, the crazy Soul Armor goes running in, and Roy’s Crew get to follow “in hot pursuit of the crazed murderer”. You other cops, go and secure the perimeter or something. Down into the Basement of Dramatic String Music they go, but then they face the bane of adventuring parties: a split corridor. Oh yeah, split the party, this can only go well. Roy and Havoc are going around, remarking at how dilapidated everything looks- Uh oh. Lust. Havoc, beware the Angry Girlfriend! On a more serious note, oh crap the party is split up in a basement presumably with multiple Goths. Might be time to stage a retreat. Ok ok, another laugh at how Havoc is a fool for honkers, but for real, back to seriousness. Roy asks about Hughes, and when Lust taunts him he goes for a kneeshot. It shows she’s a Homunculus, but it’ll take more than that to- Roy interrupts her monologue with the rest of his clip, it’s about as effective as we can expect but at least it shut her up for a few moments. But the claws come out, and Lust… stabs herself? Oh. Oh dear. That’s a Philosopher’s Stone. So if all the Goths are built around this miraculous tool of Transmutation then they’ll just keep coming back. On the plus side, now we have a clear weakness: destroy the Stone and they lose their regeneration. Quick Roy, shoot the Glowing Weak Spot! Nope, too slow. Now that Lust is finished talking to the Soon-To-Be-Dead-Men, she disarms them… and slices a water pipe, rendering Roy’s Ignition Gloves useless. Well, crap. Both men run screaming for the exit, tumble outside while Havoc asks what they’re gonna do. But Roy’s happy? Oh! He may have lost his signature ability, but he’s still a State Alchemist who can transmute any materials on hand. Say, a bunch of water into hydrogen gas? Thanks for cutting that pipe, lady! Here, have a lighter!

Al and Riza pick up on the Big Boom, but Riza just steels herself and keeps searching for their target. Good trust in your boss, here’s hoping you two don’t end up in the same situation. After the Jean Havoc/Lust narrator cards, Roy and Havoc are searching the now-torched room. A bit of snarking about the busted ex-girlfriend gift how bad cigarettes are, Roy says aw man why did you say that without a body. She’ll be just in the next room and or no she’s in this one under the rubble! Havoc’s been spiked! Oh crap oh crap, Roy’s still weaponless in a room with Lust, this isn’t good. Oh right, Havoc’s gun which good Leto is rather strong, Lust is down an arm. She’s still boasting about how Roy can’t put her down for good… while her Stone is exposed. Yoink! It’s rather effective, and Lust actually crumbles away. A bit anticlimactic, honestly. But now Roy’s got the MacGuffin! Now to heal Havoc, give it to the Elric Brothers, and the show’s over! I wonder what complication is going to come up now. Roy gets ready to cast Heal and GUH OH MY LETO NO NO NO Lust just grew back around the Stone, her half-formed body chided Roy for being so forward, and Spiky Fingers to the chest. And now HE’S here! [Lab Guard Captain]: “Uh-- Uh… Your Excellency!” [Fuhrer Wrath]: “What’s the current status?” This is not backup! This is the opposite of backup! Lust dumps Roy on the ground, oh-so-sad that she’s been forced to kill such a promising sacrificial candidate as she shreds his glove and leaves him to watch Havoc die before he himself bleeds out. Um. Wow. I can hope that with Lust pulling the classic “Leave before you see them die for sure” mistake that they’ll be ok? Please? Havoc? Come on, answer me buddy. While this awfulness is going on, Al and Riza arrive in an incredibly bright white room with a large Alchemy Symbol (the same on we saw in Xerxes?) on the wall, and Barry looking down at the lifeless remains of his old body, commenting on how a soul shoved in another form is so harmful. This of course shocks Al, makes him wonder if he’ll survive as a Soul Armor until they can reform their original bodies. Al… *Sigh* Riza, just put the pistol down, we’re perfectly aware at how effective that is against the Goths. Lust demands to know why Barry is helping out our guys, he basically says it’s for the heck of it and he wants to kill her anyway. The Goth just complains about how she’ll have to kill a second candidate now since Al tagged along, at which point Barry gets tired of waiting and charges and he’s dead now. Whelp. So long, Barry the Butcher. So now that that’s out of the way, Lust prepares to send Riza after her superior. Riza… does not take the news well. [Furious!Riza]: “You biiittch!!” She empties one pistol to mournful music, same with the second, and finishes with a revolver. All to achieve Lust standing back up and patronizingly asking if she’s done. Aw hell no, don’t you fucking dare call Riza weak. Al, pound her face in. Damnit Riza, take this chance and get out of here! Al’s the only one who can at least slow her down with his Transmutation ability and the fact that he’s friggin metal while you’re flesh and blood, get moving! But no, they keep doing the “save yourself, no you save yourself” thing heroes do while Lust stands there annoyed.

How old is Al again? Whatever it is, it’s way too goddamn young for him to be standing his ground against this murderer, screaming about how [Al]: “I’m sick of watching people die! And I can’t just sit back and take it anymore!” -to a montage of all those touched by death in this show, including that time someone got stabbed while inside him. Friggen Leto, this show. [wait, WHAT?!]: “Well spoken… I couldn’t agree more.” Al IMMEDIATELY earthbends up a shield to protect him and Riza as the room gets filled with ALL OF THE FIRE, it clears to see charred Lust looking oh-so-satisfyingly shocked as The Badass Roy grits out that he got her on her knees, after all. Then the camera pans to oh my Leto I did not expect to see The Badass Roy’s chiseled abs today but I am happy that I did, as he stands there in all his determined glory clutching his stab wounds with one hand and holding the not-so-broken lighter in the other. Or still broken, but The Badass Roy didn’t let that stop him as he just uses the flint to get a spark and a TC carved into his own hand. Cue EVEN MORE FIRE as Lust whines about how he should have bled out by now, but of course The Flame Alchemist seared the wound closed, admits that he aaaaalmost passed out from the pain before MORE FIRE. Now, about that claim that he couldn’t kill you? Let’s see how many FIREs it takes to get to the center of a Gothie-pop, huh?! Again! And again! AND AGAIN! AND AGAIN! BURN, YOU BITCH! No no fuck no you don’t get to suddenly be patched up and charging towards The Badass Roy no no no [The Bitch]: “You killed me.” YYYYYYYYEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS Lust is crumbling to ashes now as The Badass Roy’s attacks have seemed to finally have damaged her Stone. But she wouldn’t be a Goth if she didn’t go out with a disparaging monologue, pleased that she at least was killed by a man with such cold and focused eyes, looking forward to the day those eyes are wide with agony. [Lust]: “It’s coming... It’s coming…” The Philosopher's Stone falls, and crumbles away. Finally, Roy falls, the effort of his attack and his injuries overcoming him. Riza and Al brush off his thanks and prepare to get a medic aw HELL no I’d forgotten about Bradley, he’s just outside the room- but he just sheathed his sword and walked away. Bwuh? You’re letting them live? What’s your game, Wrath? Ok whatever, the Fuhrer is being mysterious, what else is new, just get Roy and Havoc some help right now! Oh yeah, Winry’s been left at the hotel all day. She’s telling herself over and over that Al’s alright. And here he is! A bit worse for wear, but nothing a little bit of TLT (Tender Loving Transmutation) won’t fix! And he can even do it himself, so no worries Winry! [Winry]: “Moron! Welcome back!” [Al]: “Uh, okay… thanks!” Aw, laugh it out you two. And maybe get some glue for Al’s arm. Wait, Barry’s still alive?! Oh, Lust missed his sigil with her attack, so he’s down to just that little piece of sheet metal. But he’ll be back- wait, BioBarry’s still alive?! How in Leto’s name did he survive all of the FIRE? Well whatever, we get a part-funny, part-bittersweet moment as dumb old BioBarry paws at Barry’s sigil, wiping it away and sending The Butcher off for good. Sayanora, you homicidal maniac. Thanks for your help in the end. Oh hey, Al! How you doing, Protagonist? The Mighty Armstrong and Breda are seeing him off at the train station, is he finally going back to Central to rejoin the Blonde Kids? Well, at least Al will have one heck of a story for him. Never mind, looks like a detour to the graveyard… where there’s someone there? In a brown coat with blond hair… no, it can’t be… It’s him. The man we’ve only seen in flashbacks and the intro. The man who’s forever covered up in pictures. It’s Papa Elric. It’s Hohenheim. … And THAT’S WHERE WE END THE EPISODE?! WHAT THE-

[schrijverr]

Professor Elric?

After The Promised Day Edward is sent on a miliary mission to Hogwarts where he will teach Alchemy to his students. He is told not to interfere with their business, but he has a hard time not getting involved with this weird Voldy prick

On AO3

Chapter 1 out of 10

Warnings: none

Ships: none

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eward Elric was grumbling to himself as he was shoving his body into a specially tailored Army Uniform. He had saved the country and his brother and now he had to do this!

Wait, maybe there should be a little explaining beforehand. The Promised day has passed, but Truth, who was so ecstatic that Ed had given the right answer had allowed him to keep his alchemy if he agreed to keep his metal arm. Ed had agreed, a bit suspicious, but whatever.

After that he had tried the country life, but it wasn’t for him, not anymore. So he found himself knocking on Mustangs door a few weeks after and before he knew it he was back int the military, but now with costume. It was all fine until he got this assignment, he had to be a teacher…  at a school… with children…  where people believed in magic… and thought alchemy was magic…

Ed hated his life, right about now.

He was still grumbling when he entered Mustangs office for his last briefing before he went off. The man in question seemed way too smug for Edwards liking, so he grit his teeth and said: “Well, get on with it.”

“With pleasure. So, you will be teaching Alchemy, it’s the same as here. You are doing that so that we can create allies with this “wizard world”, and we need allies after what happened here. Since you are the face of Amestris we have decided that you will wear your uniform.”

And there it was, that smug smile on that bastards face. He had done that specifically to piss Eward off, he just knew it. He hadn’t even realized he was exploding until he was in the middle of yelling at Mustang.

When he was out of breath and heaving angrily Mustang gave him another smug look and said: “Just a joke Fullmetal, but you will wear it at the introduction dinner at the beginning of the year and at holidays, do you understand?”

Edward gave him a menacing look, but knew that protesting would never work in his favor, so he begrudgingly agreed. Mustang continued: “You have to tell Professor Dumbledore if you would like to be referred to as Colonel or Professor Elric and he will discuss the basics with you when you arrive. This is also an intelligence mission, but I guess you already knew that.”

Edward nodded, if this really was just an allegiance mission they would have send someone with more tact and less skill. If Ed was perfectly honest, he was sure that they would have send Hawkeye if it wasn’t for the fact that she wasn’t an alchemist and Mustang couldn’t survive a day without her.

“I do, how many times will I report in and what will I focus on?” Edward replied.

“You will send monthly reports about your findings. We need to know how dangerous these people are and if this magic stuff is legit. If it is, we need to know if we can use it, if it really is limited to certain people and if those people live in Amestris as well. You also need to know if these people are capable of starting a war, what sort of military they have and how fast they can organize. Dive into their history, see how violent it is and how they’ve dealt with things as rebellion or power exchange. Is that clear?”

Edward nodded, if it was anyone but Mustang he would have said ‘Yes, sir’ or ‘Yes, ma’am’, but it was Mustang and Mustang was a bastard who shoved him in a uniform and called him short, so he didn’t deserve that.

Mustang closed his folder and said: “That will be all, go home say goodbye and report back tomorrow at 8 o’clock sharp. A lift will be waiting.”

~

The next day a lady was in, the now, General Mustangs office. She had a but of a sour face and glasses, her brown and already graying a bit hair was tied into a tight bun. She wore a green dress, with actual robes and to complete the cliché she had a pointed hat on her head. She stuck out her hand and with a strange accent she introduced herself: “Good morning Colonel Elric. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall and I am here to take you to Hogwarts.”

He put down his suitcases and shook her hand and told her he was pleased to meet her, he then asked about the means transportation they would use since he hadn’t seen an unknown vehicle outside.

She gave him a smile and said: “We will be using a portkey.” she checked the time, “and we are almost late. I hope you are packed, Colonel Elric, because we must be going.”

Edward held up his suitcases and cheerily said: “Try not to ruin the country while I’m gone, General Bastard! Oh, and tell Colonel Hawkeye I’m sad I missed her. Bye.”

Mustang just rubbed his face and yelled after him: “Just get out before you shrink more than you already have.”

Lucky for Mustang and the first impression they wanted to make on their, hopefully, new allies the door had already shut behind the duo.

Said duo was now walking outside towards a cane. Edward raised his one of his eyebrows and sceptically asked: “I don’t know if we can both fit on that, ma’am.”

She shot him a sharp look and said: “Colonel Elric, I know you are unfamiliar with our world, but I must ask you to try to be respectful. You may believe what you want, but know not to judge people  or things on their looks.”

Edward didn’t know how she did it, but she had struck a nerve. He though of how people had treated Al, just because of the suit of armor and how they looked down on him because of his height and on Winry because of her gender. So, he apologized and made a deal with himself to only judge once he had seen.

She took one of his suitcases and ordered him to grab the cane, he obliged quickly. For a moment nothing happened and Edward almost ran his mouth off again, but he was cut of by a tugging sensation just below his bellybutton and the world started to spin. He felt like he was in the middle of a typhoon and he was clinging trying to not fall off. He heard McGonagall tell him to let go, so he came to the conclusion that she had gone mad and this was where he would perish.

She yelled at him again and he let go. He didn’t want to see the ground just before he splattered on it. He was okay with never seeing his final resting place, so he closed his eyes. For a moment he was weightless, then he crashed down, making full impact with the grass. Blearily he opened his eyes and saw McGonagall slowly walking downwards through the air. He blinked, still the same, he blinked again, still nothing changed, he rubbed his eyes and looked again, McGonagall stood perfectly safe on the ground.

She must have seen his confusion, because she explained: “It’s always difficult to land when you first travel with a portkey, but you did great.”

Explaining and positive reenforcement, she really was a teacher.

He shrugged the dirt of him and took in his surroundings. He was standing on a field of grass, close by began a forest, there was a cottage close by and some sort of sport arena in the distance, but the most eye catching of all was the gigantic, beautiful, old castle in front of them. He was momentarily awestruck as he just let the view wash over him. McGonagall was obviously used to the view and the reaction, because she just smiled with an amused twinkle in her eye and let him take everything in before she said: “Let’s go, Colonel Elric. Professor Dumbledore is waiting on us.”

She lead him to the gaits and through corridors lined with paintings or armors. The people in the paintings moved and watched them curiously, some even followed them. It was everything Amestris was not, so he commented: “This is nothing like home, home is more straight lines and harsher colors.”

“Our youngest students are eleven years old, we don’t want to frighten them.” she told him, “You are used to a military base, so I am glad that there is a difference.”

Edward shrugged, that made kind of sense. Everything back home was more military like, but it was much more, it was vibrant cities, small country side villages, miner towns and small lively cities. It all had a newer feel to it, Edward couldn’t explain it.

And at the moment it didn’t matter, because they had arrived at a big statue of some kind of bird. McGonagall said: “Pepper Imps.”

Edwards eyebrows rose, but he bit on his cheek and didn’t say a thing. He was soon to release his cheek in favor of letting his mouth hang open, because the statue started to rise, creating stairs as it went up. He quickly followed McGonagalls lead and stepped on the stairs.

She knocked on the door and Edward followed her inside, there a man with a strange gray outfit, half-moon glasses and long gray hair and a beard was waiting for them. He stood up with a flourish and said: “Colonel Elric, it is an honor. I am the Headmaster of this fine school, Professor Dumbledore. I welcome you to my staff and hope you will like it here.”

Eward smiled and shook the mans hand as he answered: “Thank you, sir. It is and honor and Eward is just fine.”

“Very well, then you can call me Albus.” Dumbledore replied, “We have some basic things to discuss and then you are free to explore, I hope you don’t mind me walking you around, showing you your classroom, while we dot the last i’s.”

“Not at all, sir. Show the way.” Edward said, he hoped he was being respectful enough. He had taken some lessons from Hawkeye about basic courtesy and military protocols, he couldn’t stay the young brash kid if he wanted to stay in the military. And he thought he had become quite good at it, it also helped that he was pretty high-ranked, so he almost never had to salute first and most of his commanding officers he knew so well that he didn’t have to salute them.

Dumbledore lead him through the maze of corridors again and started the conversation: “First order of business, would you like me to introduce you as Colonel Elric or would you prefer Professor Elric?”

Edward hot him a glance and said: “Well, I’ve never earned the title of Professor, my brother went back to school, he’s Professor Elric of us two. I’m afraid I’ve never even finished school, sorry.”

Edward was curious what the Headmasters answer would be. He had read many books about wizard-education, but he’d never found anything about a way to earn a Professors title, yet all the teachers seemed to carry it. Dumbledore had observed him for a moment in which Edward had kept his expression carefully blank. The man then replied: “That won’t be a problem, Edward, it is more a formality here.”

Edward was secretly mad at how easily they threw around the title. In Amestris a title meant a lot, the military was important and ranking was a high priority. Professors were held in high regard and only few had the honor of referring to themselves as such. Edward himself was quite proud of his little brother and would often call him Professor Elric for kicks. He decided not to word any of these thoughts and said: “I hope you won’t be offended if I stick to the title I earned, sir.”

A twinkle of amusement was found in Dumbledores eyes as he said: “Of course not, Colonel.”

They walked on and got to a classroom on the first floor, it was a huge room with a gigantic black board that could expand, there were a few rows with school desks, in the back there was big mat and some benches surrounding it. Edward inspected everything, when he was done he nodded satisfied and said: “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“No problem, though I am quite curious what the mat is for.” Dumbledore said.

Edward smirked: “You must train your body as well as your mind. I don’t expect many of my students to understand that either, most will drop out, probably.”

“You don’t seem to have much faith in them, Edward.” Dumbledore said.

Edward shrugged: “Alchemy training is hard, few of the people in my home country have what it takes to get through the training, although I know it can differ form teacher to teacher. My teacher left me and my brother on a deserted island for one month, before we could even start on Alchemy training. I don’t plan to go so hard on them, but it will be rough and you have to have passion if you want to stay.”

Dumbledore nodded, but didn’t comment. He then showed Edward to his living quarters, which was through a door that was next to the blackboard. It wasn’t a big room, but it had a bed, a desk, a closet and a bookcase with a few books already there. Edward put down his suitcases and said: “Thank you.”

“It really isn’t a problem and I am glad you are interested in our world.” Dumbledore said, with a nod to the books.

It was right that Edward had asked for books about Wizard history and general Wizard knowledge. If he was going to teach there (and spy on them, but shhh), he would need to know all the basics his students would know. He needed to understand references and how some relations came to be. With a big smile he said: “Well, I am a student by heart and there is so much to learn.”

After that Dumbledore explained that the students would arrive the next evening and he would be introduced then. He was free to do as he pleased until then and if he was lost he could ask the paintings for directions, which was completely nuts, but also awesome. If he wanted to write home he could borrow one of the owls, which again, completely nuts, but also kind of cool and more efficient.

When all that was done Edward was left on his own. He plopped down on the bed and decided that the room could use some more decorations (translation: the bed, chair and desk got more skulls and gargoyles). Then he cracked open the first book, deciding that he could unpack later.