#i tried making a cleaner version of the left one but it somehow looked worse

[atvie]

some attacks from artfight!!

(dumpling by @ddummy07 | sethos by efliye!)

[abraxos-is-toothless]

The Beauty That Is She

Part 3 is finally here!! Previous Updates Here:)

Before we get into this one, I want to say a quick thank you to those of you who have asked if I was alright and have been so, so patient for this update. I'm so sorry it's been so long, but this story was only meant to be a few chapters long and now, my ideas keep changing and there is so much I want to write for it. I can't thank you all enough for the kind words and the encouragement, I honestly didn't think people would enjoy this that much considering it's not one of the mains AND that I've paired him with an OC.

This one isn't my favourite but it is still important or you might get a little confused later on. The wedding/wedding night is in the editing process and I'm still deciding if it should be two small chapters or one big one!

Anyway, enough of my rambling and on with the show!

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It was the day before the wedding and Fenrys was terrified. Not because he didn't want this or he was having second thoughts, but because he was terrified Eva would say she didn't want this anymore, didn’t want him. But above all of that, he was terrified of the words about to come out of the trembling messenger boy’s mouth.

Rowan’s personal messenger, who had managed to secure his place when Rowan had found him trying to survive on the streets. His name, Fenrys remembered, was Kallias. He was just a year younger than Connall and abandoned by his family when he was spotted kissing one of the boys from the village. The family had up and moved not long after, the villagers saying they were too disgraced. Fenrys thought it was all fucking absurd. Your child was your child, regardless of who they chose to love and he would make sure his future children knew that too. The thought of those children, his and Eva’s, brought Fenrys back to Kallias.

 “What is it, Kal?” The boy shifted on his feet and Fenrys heard the way he took several deep breaths before he spoke.

 “The King wishes to see you out in the courtyard, My Lord.” He rolled his eyes at the title, trying to act as if those words weren’t scaring the fuck out of him.

“How many times have I told you not to call me that? It’s just Fenrys, kid.” Kallias nodded, but he still heard the muttered ‘yes, my lord’ before he turned to leave. Fenrys couldn’t help the way he tried to straighten his tunic and his hair before making his way to see Rowan. It’s not as if looking a bit cleaner would save him from the other male’s protectiveness. He understood though, because he would be the exact same way if his daughter was about to be married off. It would mean she was no longer his to protect, no longer his to care for. Although he would still do those things, every day, until his dying breath.

The halls of the castle were full of people bustling about, adding the last few touches of decorations here and there. Aelin could be heard before you even saw her, making sure everything was perfect. His Queen would like to think everything was done by her, but it was his Eva who led all of the wedding preparations. Fenrys was enraptured whilst watching Eva tell her mother exactly what she wanted, where it would all go and when it would happen. Aelin had tried to get her way only once, but Rowan had just given her a look, along with a light smile and she had kept silent and continued to make sure Eva wouldn’t have to worry about anything. He breathed deeply as he pushed through a large oak door and stepped out into the courtyard. Out of all of the places he’d seen, the places he’d lived, nowhere had ever felt like home as much as Terrasen did. Not even all of those years spent in Doranelle serving Maeve. Rowan wasn’t hard to find, all he had to do was follow the loud cursing and shouts of “You can get off of me now, Buzzard!”

When he reached them, he bit his lip trying not to laugh; lest he want to go a couple rounds with his Queen for making fun of her. Rowan had Aelin pinned to the ground, straddling her hips and a hand on each of her wrists, her blade knocked a few feet away. When Aelin noticed him, she twisted her head to look at him upside down, eyes narrowed. “What in the hell are you doing out here?” Rowan stood slowly, pulling his wife up beside him, placing a quick kiss to her temple.

“I sent for him,” he said, before Fenrys could even open his mouth. Aelin folded her arms across her chest and raised a brow.

“What could you possibly need him for? His wedding is tomorrow, he still has things to do.” He didn’t really have things to do, just to help set up tables outside for the festivities after the ceremony, but he thought his Queen might be trying to save his ass from Rowan’s ‘territorial fae bullshit’. Fenrys was grateful for the effort, though he doubted even she could save him.

“There’s something I want to show him. We’ll be back in time for when Lorcan and Elide get here, I promise.” Aelin stared at her husband for a few moments longer, having one of those silent conversations before she nodded, kissing Fenrys on the cheek before walking back to the castle, muttering about seeing if Connall wanted to read their newest book. Rowan looked to him when she was out of sight, an unreadable expression on his face before he said, “come and walk with me.” Not a question, nor a request, so he followed obediently as the silver haired man made his way to the tree line. They didn’t speak as they walked, the only sounds were of rabbits and birds that he wouldn’t know were there without his fae hearing, and the crunch of shrubbery underfoot. Studying the warrior a few paces in front of him, he noticed the male hadn’t actually brought any of his weapons with him. It made him feel better, knowing he wasn’t likely to get stabbed, but that didn’t mean Rowan couldn’t hurt him. There was no need for weapons considering how much power he had.

After what felt like hours in the silence, was merely a thirty minute walk to the hills within the grounds, but far behind the castle where Rowan halted them. “Where are we?” His King, his brother in arms, his friend looked at him with such softness in those stark green eyes; Fenrys couldn’t even find the will to look away.

“We’ll get to that, but first I have to say a few things.” He dipped his head for Rowan to go on. “When Aelin first told me she was carrying twins, I cried for hours. It was from overwhelming joy and excitement, but also from an underlying fear. Fae twins are rare, as you know, but childbirth for fae females is also a difficulty. I was so, so terrified something would go wrong, that I’d lose them, including Aelin and that it would be like Lyria all over again.” Fenrys pushed the thoughts from his mind, trying not to remember how cold and angry Rowan had once been. He knew that it would have been a lot worse this time, had the worst actually occurred. “But everything was fine. I watched as they grew, as they kicked their tiny little feet against my touch for the first time. And then suddenly, as if I had merely blinked, I was holding Evalin in my arms.” Images of the warm summer evening the twins were welcomed into the world bombarded him, and he could clearly see Rowan with a babe in each arm in his mind’s eye. It was a sight you simply couldn’t forget. “She may be grown up Fenrys, but she’s my little girl, as she always will be. But tomorrow, tomorrow she becomes yours to love, to cherish and protect and I’ll respect that of course I will, but she’ll never stop being my sweet little princess who used to whack me with wooden swords and put flowers in my hair.” There was a dampness to his cheeks and he realised with a start, as he brought his hand to his face, that he’d started crying somewhere along the way.

“Of course she’s yours Rowan. That will never change, but just so you know, I’ll spend every day of my life trying to be worthy of her, to be worthy of being loved by her.” It was true, he didn’t deserve someone such as Eva, but he’d do everything in his power to prove himself to her. Rowan brought him into a back-clapping hug and he could do nothing but return it.

“I know boyo, I know, I’m just feeling a bit emotional is all and Aelin probably would have told me I was being ridiculous. Also,” he pulled away and smiled wickedly, “even if you do fuck this up somehow, I think I would be lower down on your list of concerns.” Rowan started walking again, pushing between the low-hanging branches of two old willow trees.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I think Con would beat me to you. He may be younger than Lin and Mia, but he’s fiercely protective when it comes to his sisters.” The miniature version of Rowan Whitehorn was a hellion naturally, but it was worse when something had happened to the twins. Fenrys had seen a little bit of that protection show the day the mating bond had settled.

“Speaking of, have you noticed Con has been spending a lot of time with Kallias lately? I’ve found them together a few times in the library, though Connall usually catches me from the corner of his eye and darts away. Poor Kal is always left confused and I think a little hurt.” There was a low chuckle from Rowan, his head shaking.

“I’ve seen them. I’ve known about my son’s preference for males for years, but I think he’s scared to tell us. I think they might even get a little shock of their own in a couple of years, honestly.” Interesting. “Aelin is desperate to call him out on it, but I’ve told her this is something he needs to sort out within himself first. He’ll tell us when he’s ready, though I hope it’s soon, because all I want is for him to be who he wants.” He was about to retort when Rowan halted them abruptly, nodding his head to the right of them. When he turned in that direction, his breath caught a little in his throat. There, in amongst the trees, was a small little yellow cottage. It was dark inside and Fenrys could smell the stale scent of pine and snow, indicating Rowan had been he but not recently.

“Rowan?”

The male in question dug into one of the pockets on his breeches, and pulled a small, silver key that glinted in the few rays of sunlight that shone through the canopy. “I started building this when Aelin told me she was with child, and then started another one after she had announced it would be twins. I knew that when they were all grown up, my children would want to leave and live independently, to be their own person. I also knew it would be hard for us to let them out of our sight, so I wanted to give them somewhere that they were far enough away from us, but somewhere I knew they would be safe, protected.” He pressed the key into the palm of Fenrys’ hand and folded his fingers over it. The metal was cool in his palm, barely weighing anything at all. “You and Evalin don’t have to live here of course, but I wanted her to know there was a place for her to start this new adventure with you.”

“I don’t know what to say.” There were things Fenrys knew he should say, but the words got stuck in his throat.

“There’s no need to say anything.” Rowan’s eyes were lined with silver as he ran his eyes over the place he’d created for his child. It wasn’t hard to imagine being here with Eva, it wasn’t hard at all.

“You said you started another when you knew it was going to be twins, did you start another when Aelin told you about Connall?” His friend wiped at his eyes quickly before nodding in confirmation.

“Yes. Mia’s is to the west of here, barely any distance from here at all and closer to the lake. I built Con’s to the east side of the castle, actually. There’s a small cavern close to it that has a hot spring inside, which I thought would be good for practicing.”

The two of them stayed out there for a little while longer, occasionally letting a content silence between them, or talking about all sorts of topics and reminiscing on the past. Soon enough, they were on the move again, reaching the castle just in time for Elide and Lorcan’s arrival, Aelin waiting for them with a glare. It was possible that they were a little behind when they said they’d be back. Fenrys tried to greet his friend’s as they arrived, little ones in tow, but Rowan stopped him with a hand to his shoulder, telling him to go and rest because he had a big day tomorrow. He let out a breath and agreed, walking back to his room without stopping to say hello to anyone.

When he was washed and settled into bed, Fenrys let the darkness take him into the land of dreams with a smile on his face.

Tomorrow, he was getting married.

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Let me know what you thought! I’m sorry for being so behind on things:( If you’re not in the tags but you’ve asked to be, just give me a shout and I’ll fix it asap, I don’t think my lists are updating properly<3

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[noah-moth-cursed-chaos]

Museums and Abstract Paintings: A quinnby fic, chapter four

Quick disclaimer: Chris’ amnesia is not modeled after any real world type of amnesia, please don’t base any understanding of real world amnesia off of it. Tw for mentions of murder and implied mentions of murder, along with guilt and anxiety.

Trilby didn’t quite know how to take what he’d learned on his mission with Chris. He’d noticed the ministry was always short staffed. He hadn’t before recognized the constant influx of new faces, or how there was usually no explanation to what happened to the old ones. They were all just hear to get tossed into the fire in the fruitless attempt to protect a few civilians. There was a better chance of ending up dead or insane than making it through their job. Why did so many people stay? Did everyone come in the way he did? Wanted by the law and under threat of imprisonment if they didn’t work for the government? He sighed as he got up from his desk, his report wasn’t as detailed as his usual work but it was good enough. Time to turn it in.

Despite the small staff there was no lack of the normal office gossip in the ministry building, usually about the results of another agent’s mission. Trilby overheard a snippet of this as he walked past.

“Yeah, came in covered in blood, again, think most of it was his this time.”

“Good grief, Chris really is trying to cost the carpet cleaners a fortune isn’t he?”

“Is he okay?” Trilby had stopped, glancing at his two coworkers.

“Not sure, he’s in the infirmary. But he’s always bounced back before so I’m sure he’s doin’ fine.” One of them said.

“Starting to doubt he *can* die he’s done this so many times.” The other said.

Trilby changed his route after that, heading up to the floor the infirmary was on, the report could wait.

Chris hated when he had to get stitches. Oh well. He was alive, a bit worse for wear, but alive.

“In no point did it cross your mind to, I dunno, *run*? There’s no shame in not coming in here a bloody mess after every other job, y’know, plenty of agents manage it quite well.” Claire walked in, an expression of concern and exasperation on her face.

“Not demonslayers.” Chris said, “Besides, it’s not *that* bad.” He shrugged.

“You have too much pride in your mission record, you can fail one mission.” She shot at him.

Chris could’ve laughed, he couldn’t give less sh^ts about his mission record, “It isn’t about that. With some of the jobs other people here have, if they slip up someone else comes in and it’s fine, if I slip up people could get hurt, good people.”

“You already saved the world once y’know, it can be someone else’s problem now.” Claire sighed, “... but I guess I get where you’re coming from.”

“Saved the world?” The two turned to the doorway to see Trilby, who looked thoroughly confused with what he just heard.

“Yeah I saved the world from a henweigh.”

“.. a henweigh?” Trilby asked.

“Yeah.”

The thief paused, clearly having expected clarification, “And what’s a henweigh?”

“‘Bout ten pounds.” Chris smirked. Claire chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“You know one day someone’s gonna ask about it who’s already heard that joke.” She pointed out.

“So you didn’t actually save the world?” Trilby asked.

“Who knows.” Chris smirked at the other’s annoyance, “Maybe I did maybe I didn’t.”

“You can just say you don’t want to answer.”

“I know, but it’s funny to watch you get annoyed. I do think I’m gonna leave you in the dark though, mate.”

“Well, at least you’re alive to do that, heard you ruined the carpet coming in.” The ex thief leaned against the wall, Chris couldn’t help but laugh.

Trilby had tried to brush off what he heard in the infirmary, maybe they were just joking around. Really, Chris saving the world? Sounded about as likely as a beaver running for parliament. But he also barely really knew anything about Chris. Just that he took more dangerous assignments and was known for being reckless and unpredictable. But for some reason he couldn’t shake his intrigue. Couldn’t hurt to ask around.

Turns out it couldn’t help either. The answers people had just raised more questions. Chris stopped something horrible, nobody knew what it was or how he did it. Some people even suspected it was just some delusion, seeming as apparently he was supposed to be in a mental hospital during the time.

Trilby guessed he wasn’t quite as sneaky about his prying into the matter as he assumed, because Chris did find out eventually, and did confront him.

“Ya know it’s kinda rude to go asking about someone’s personal business behind their back.” Trilby couldn’t tell if the redheaded man who’d walked into his office was upset with him or not.

“... pardon?” The idea of being found out hadn’t crossed his mind, so he wasn’t quite sure what Chris could be talking about.

“You *really* wanna know what Claire was talking about in the infirmary don’t you?” The taller man raised an eyebrow. A younger Trilby likely would’ve turned an impressive shade of red at realizing he’d been caught, or would’ve tried to think up some half baked excuse as to why he’d been snooping. But now Trilby held his composure, despite the slight panic he felt inside.

“Oh, yes I have been looking into that.” Trilby said, turning his attention back to the file he was reading, “Is that a problem?”

There was a short pause before Chris spoke again, “... I guess I could tell you.” He said, “On two conditions.” Trilby couldn’t help but look up, intrigued to hear whatever conditions the taller man wanted met. “You meet me at the museum tonight at 4, and you don’t call me crazy.”

Chris was more than anxious as he waited outside the museum. Why the hell had he agreed to talk about it? Why here? Trilby would just think he was insane or he still belonged in the mental hospital or-

“Quinn?” He was snapped out of his thoughts, finding Trilby standing a small distance away, “Are we going in?”

“Oh uh-yeah.” Chris cleared his throat and got up, “.. how long have you been standing there, by the way?”

“Nearly ten minutes.” Oh. Oh sh^t. He just let him stand there for ten minutes. God Quinn you’re stupid.

“Sh^t, sorry mate.” Chris lead him inside. There weren’t many people here, and those that were seemed caught up enough in their own exploration of the building to pay no mind to the two men. Chris showed Trilby his favorite exhibits, talking about the history behind them and why they caught his eye. Trilby seemed more interested in Chris’ words than the museum itself, but his eyes lingered on more valuable exhibits, and Chris wondered if he was thinking of what it’d be like to have possession of them. Eventually they wondered to a part nobody was in at the moment.

“Why did you want to meet here?” Trilby asked, “Why not your apartment or my office or.. anywhere more secluded?”

“Uh, stupidly enough I figured it would be. Sorta a neutral ground. We’ve both made fools of ourself in front of each other in a place like this.” Chris explained. He walked over to a bench and sat down, “So how much did you find out eventually?”

“Not too much I think. Something happened when you were in a mental hospital, you stopped it somehow. Nobody knows what it was. Well, Claire might, but when I asked her she told me to mind my own business. Hey! Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just-“ Chris managed to calm down, “You sounded so offended.” He said, “Well, I’m uh, not really sure if my version of the story is even the whole thing.” He said, yeah that’s a good way to start Chris, set yourself up as an unreliable narrator. God he probably already thinks you’re nuts.

“What do you mean?”

“I Uh, don’t remember anything really before uh. The night my parents died.” He began, “Sometimes things feel familiar or I think I *should* remember something but I just... don’t. That day I was heading to their home after a book signing. I was stressed and they’d left a voicemail asking me to come over and I just.. I thought maybe seeing them would make things a little better. But they were dead when I got there, murdered. They never found the killer.”

“Oh I’m... sorry.” Trilby didn’t expect the story to start off with dead parents, Chris figured. It sounded like a cliche. He sounded like a sh^tty comic book hero.

“It’s fine, nothing that can be done now.. I checked myself into a mental hospital, I’m pretty sure it was a last straw thing for me. I didn’t react the way I thought I should’ve. Figured I should get help.” He was pretty sure the hospital f^cked him up more, but he didn’t say that, “One day I woke up and there was just a guard, dead. I didn’t really know what to do, so I took his gun and went out to investigate. The place was crawling with zombies, which I know sounds insane but it’s true, I recognized some of ‘em, other patients, guards, they smelled like rotting flesh and I remember wondering if I breathed in too close if I’d catch it. At first I didn’t really think about what was going on, I mean what are you supposed to think? I had to get out. That’s what I thought. I had to get out and I had to find out what was causing this and I had to get rid of it because otherwise I’d die. It was kind of a blur until I got shot.” Chris glanced at Trilby, trying to read his face for a reaction to what he’d said so far, he couldn’t find one. The other agent was just.. listening. Chris paused before he continued, “I killed this big lard^rse looking thing and then one of those walking corpses shot me. I woke up in a graveyard, I was one of them but.. somehow I wasn’t. Gone. Not like they were. I went to my parents house to see if there was anything there that might help. I don’t really remember everything I grabbed. I fought my way through the rest of ‘em, I killed it, the evil, the thing that was doing it all, at least I think I did.. I remember the life leaving my body and thinking it was my time.”

“But you’re not dead. Or a zombie.” Trilby now sounded confused, Chris didn’t blame him, this was all so odd he could barely make sense of it half the time. He sometimes wondered if maybe he was just delusional.

“Yeah. That’s what doesn’t make sense. I died a zombie and woke up a human on the side of the road with a bunch of guns and the book of transformations. Everything was normal and nobody knew anything about a zombie apocalypse.” Chris said, “But there were. A lot of people dead. Really quick. A lot of them looked like the zombies I killed. Nobody could figure out what did that to them.”

“I actually remember hearing about that on the news.” Trilby admitted.

“.. sometimes I wonder if there could’ve been a better way. If I’d known I swear I would’ve found one but- but... yeah.” He sighed, why was he saying this? Why had he agreed to talk about it?

Chris looked so uneasy, Trilby wondered if his mind was taking him back to what he went through, or thought he went through. He wondered how to break the tense silence, and silently realized why Chris chose this place to meet. Last time both of them were in a museum was lighthearted and fun and honestly ridiculous. Despite how quickly Trilby left it behind and forgot about it, the few times he had thought about it it was never a *bad* memory. As absurd as what Chris was saying sounded to an observer, to the demonslayer this was a personal hell. A shroud of guilt and uncertainty that he couldn’t shake. “... I’m not going to say I know what that’s like, because I don’t, I don’t think it’s *possible* for someone else to go through something like that. But I do know what it’s like to only realize something you did after it was done.” He didn’t know why he said that, or why Chris talking about the people he’d killed stuck out so much to him.

“.. what do you mean? If you’re okay saying it?” Chris’ voice was soft, quiet.

“There Uh, was a mansion, some things happened... it was my body but.. it wasn’t *me*, I never would’ve done it if I had control.” Trilby elected to keep details sparse, he was sure trying to explain what happened at Defoe Manner wouldn’t do either of them any favors. Besides. Chris had brought him here to share something. This wasn’t show and tell, and he didn’t want it to seem like he was trying to upstage the other.

“.. I don’t think it really counts against you then, you didn’t want to do it.”

“I don’t think what you did is your fault either. You had no clue what would happen.” He paused before adding, “I won’t say a word of what you told me. I swear.”

Chris paused, before grinning a bit, “Hey, maybe this can be a thing, but, less morbid in the future. Museums could be like our Las Vegas.” He had effectively dispersed the tense mood between the two with that.

“What?” Trilby had to hold back a laugh, what the hell was the other saying?

“You know, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? We can hang out in museums and do whatever we want and say whatever we want and when we leave we don’t tell anyone about it.” Trilby had to admit, it was a nice idea, if a bit silly. A place where both of them could be vulnerable yet also maintain complete privacy the moment they left.

“That sounds nice.” Trilby said, “Next time let’s go to an art museum. They’re less boring.”

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Chaos in Coccham

Genre: Fan Fiction (The Last Kingdom) Pairing: Finan/Reader Warnings: N/A Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: My entry for @geekandbooknerd​ 1K CELEBRATION! - Whoo! Congrats! My prompt was  “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.” 

thank you @gearhead66​ for the header 

The Last Kingdom Master List

Chaos.

Absolute and pure chaos!

The house was upside down and barely hanging on. Toys scattered all over the living room, a sock in the dishwasher, and was that a bucket of sand in the fridge? Uhtred had been gone for the weekend, Friday to Sunday.

Looking at the clock, you rub your hands over your face and sigh. Uhtred would be home before dinner, surely. When he'd left he had made it clear –  behave!

Perhaps that had been a warning to the babysitter. Finan loved his surrogate nephews and niece, in return they loved him. What child wouldn't? Uncle Finan was a giant, bearded, kid himself. Your last straw was finding the sticky note on the fridge, claiming that one of the children had thrown up. Finan had insisted he cleaned the kid, the mess, and thanked his time in college for the help.

Had he been drunk?

Through the window in the kitchen, you hear the commotion. Yelling, laughter, and what sounds like something being hit. A brief glance from the window gives you a view of Finan, surrounded by children. A ball of some sort in his hand, he is gearing up to throw it at Osbert, the youngest of Uhtred's children.

Swinging with all his might, the boy closes his eyes, and the others cheer when the make shift ball hits the bat. A loud splat sends bits of obliterated apple soaring through the air. Apple lands everywhere. On the side of the house, the ground, even Osbert. Who, despite the mess he is in, cheers loudly and does a victory lap around the others.

“I told you.” Finan shouts with glee. “I told you that you could do it. See!”

A chorus of “great job!” and “Way to go Os!” follows Finan.

“Alright, little man, are you ready?” Finan shouts and points at a forth child.

Before any more apples can be thrown, you step through the screen door. Everybody wrapped up in their game, nobody took the time to notice you looming.

“Finan.” Your voice rings through the yard.

Heads snap and Osbert even gasps. As if they had saw a ghost or another sort of daunting monster, the gang freezes.

“My love, my heart. What a lovely surprise.” Finan is grinning like a mad man. A bushel of rotting apples by his feet. His beard covered in bits of apple, his shirt muddy, and his jeans grass stained. He looks as rough as the children around him.

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. “You're in trouble, Mister.”

“Oohh!” the children mocked, giggling and laughing at their babysitter.

“My love, my heart. Trouble? We're only having a bit of fun.” He tries his best to woo you with his cheeky grin and those big brown eyes.

Ignoring him, you set your sights on his accomplices. “Kids, you all know better than to let Finan run wild.”

“Run wild? I did no such thing.” The Irishman defends his actions.

Ignoring his plight the best you can, you try your best to steady your mood. This was a disaster. Finan meant well, he adored the kids, but sometimes he got a little out of hand. Taking the drunk favourite uncle to a whole new level. When Uhtred had asked his best friend to watch his children, he knew what he was getting into.

“Athelstan, what are you doing here?” Your gaze falls upon the dark haired boy, mud and apple all over him.

“I wanted to come play.”

“Do his parents know he's here?” You look at Finan, hoping he had at least mentioned taking the boy to somebody in his family.

“No clue, but his grandmother knows. She brought him over.” Finan's smile is wide, as he ruffles his little shadow's hair.

“Do you want to play?” Uhtred, the younger version, asks holding out the bat.

Scowling at the teenager, you huff. “No, I don't want to play. What I want is everybody inside and cleaning. Your father is going to be murderous, when he comes home to this.”

Sulking and grumbling, Finan's miniature terror brigade slowly move to your will. Had you made it a game, like Finan, they would have gladly got on board doing whatever you asked. Unfortunate for them, this was business that needed dealt with. If you'd left it to Finan, it would never be completed and Uhtred would never speak to either of you again.

Inside the mood was somber, children filing in, and Finan following you like a lost puppy. He would have gotten around to cleaning, eventually. In his defense, Uhtred had lived in worse. Most of their college years were spent living in absolute chaos and disarray. To think of it, Finan couldn't remember either of them ever cleaning. Perhaps that was the reason Sihtric had always kept his door locked and refused to grant them entrance to his room.

“Uhtred is going to kill you,” Hands on your hips, shaking your head at the destruction. At home, Finan would never allow this to happen. If he did you would be gone and he would be left to pick up more than a mess.

“We'll have it all cleaned up before then.” Finan winks and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Come on gang, time to get dirty.”

“But we were having fun,” Stiorra whines pouting and using her best attempt at puppy dog eyes. It was her no fail, fool proof way of getting whatever she wanted.

“Oh, well, I suppose...” Finan smiled softly at his favourite – not that he would tell the others.

“Finan.” You gently cuff the back of his head. “No wonder this place it a wreck. Did you let them play you like that all weekend?”

Finan gently rubbed the back of his head, frowning. “Not all weekend.”

Unbelievable!

Finan was useless when it came to authority with children.

He was kind with a good heart, fun, and trusting. However he had no control over the younger beings, when they wanted something, he was easily played and every kid who met him somehow sensed that. Fun Uncle Finan was his claim and he adored the title, it meant more to him than anything else. Yes, he could allow the children to get unruly. Yes, he could do better with being the boss. He could even feed them a vegetable or two now and then, but what did any of that matter?

At the end of the day they were alive. Happy. Fed. And couldn't wait to start all over again in the morning. These were the things that made memories. Memories of a happy home and childhood were the things that dictated success. Providing a happy childhood, with their favourite drunk uncle, was worth more than gold to Finan.

House somewhat cleaner than when you'd arrived, dinner on the table, and kids cleaned all in three hours – it was something short of a miracle. Finan finished sweeping up the living room, while you wrangled children to the table. This time there wasn't a piece of pizza, chip, or candy insight. No complaints, either, which greatly amused Finan.

If he'd tried to feed them salad, they would have revolted. Staged a coup and hung him by his underwear.

“Well done my love, my heart.” Finan praises, stashing the broom and dust pan.

“See what being a mindful leader gets you,” You wink and turn to give him a well deserved kiss on the cheek. “You can take control, the kids will still love you.”

“Tell me about it, I love you every day. Despite having my bal-” Wisely he shuts his mouth, when he receives your glare. “I will do better, next time.”

“When this is done, I am taking Athelstan home. Finan, please do the dishes and get the kids in bed before it's too late.”

Armed with your instructions, Finan salutes. “Yes ma'am.”

Dinner finished, it's up to the kids to load the dishwasher and get cleaned up. Allowing Finan to flex his authority skills. Gathering the grubby Athelstan, you listen to Finan as he tries to be demanding. The Irishman really doesn't have it in him to be tough, not with three of his favourite young humans at least.

He'll learn. In time.

You had been telling yourself that for a few years. It was never going to happen. Those children had him right where they wanted him, the only other person they could overpower and outwit that easily was Osferth and he was growing wise to their wicked ways.

Shouting goodbye, you usher Athelstan out the front door. His parents likely have no clue he is missing, his grandmother would have told Finan to let her know when he needed to come home, which would have been forgotten in the chaos and fun.

Chaos and Fun were only two of Finan's greatest qualities. Despite how they drove you mad.

“What do we have here?” Uhtred's voice startles you, the car door shutting with a thud. Taking a look over the messy child, he folds his arms and waits.

“Uhtred,” You greet him with a faint smile, speaking loudly in hopes Finan and the children will hear you through the window.

“How bad is it?” Uhtred sighs. He had no illusions about how big of a mess Finan and his children would make. Seeing you was the indication that there was some hope.

“Not as bad as it was.” You shrug, instructing Athelstan to get in the backseat of your car. “They're just finishing dinner.”

“Alright, well, I should go in and see them. Are you going to wait for Finan?”

“Actually, that is a great idea. Tell him to hurry, I won't wait long.”

Waiting for Finan, you smile at Athelstan in the back seat. He looks like he's been lost in the woods for a week, wandering through mud and muck, as if he'd never met a bath before. Thankful that you were the one who didn't have to clean him.

Looking through the windshield, you frown at the sight of Finan dragging himself from the house. Overnight bag in hand, he had a pout and his eyes are downcast as he walks. His upbeat, eager demeanor is dampened. No doubt Uhtred had given him a quick once over about the responsible adult – again.

“What's wrong?” Your immediate instinct is to ask when he opened the car door.

Finan's brow is creased and his eyes sad.

“I wasn't ready to say goodbye.” Finan let the door shut behind him, sighing heavily. “But that is fine, Uhtred asked if I can come over Wednesday, when he works late.”

@ceridwenofwales​​​​ @pokeasleepingsmaug​​​​ @tiyetiye​​​​ @whenimaunicorn​​​​ @sifshoney​​​​ @goldentailedmermaids​​​​ @joyofbebbanburg​​​​ @laketaj24​​​ @kawennote09​​​ @medievalfangirl​​​ @tephi101​​​  @fandomfic-galore​​​ @therealcalicali​​​ @carlya65​​​ @inforapound​​​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​​​ @captstefanbrandt​​​ @naaladareia​​​ @nxrdist​​​ @wilddrabble​​​ @equalstrashflavoredtrash​​ @ivarlothbroks​ @thewildbeauty​ @ivarinleatherpants​

*If you wish to be added on to/taken off of The Last Kingdom tags, please let me know*

[larissa-the-scribe]

We’ll Make it Out

Whumptober, Day 1

For more info on characters and setting, go here

1780ish words

It didn't take Lenesse’s brain too long to catch her up to speed, even as she was still opening her eyes. Bound, sprawled on an icy stone floor in the Nyrthyl stronghold, still damp, covered head-to-toe in foul-smelling swamp mud, as well as various cuts, scrapes, and bruises that stung like she’d been bathed in lemon juice. Where the bog-walker had bitten off a chunk of her flesh burned and ached, itching fiercely from dried blood, dried mud, and the rough-woven ropes pulled tight just below it. 

And before that: the panicked chase, running from Lanshir and his men. The border of the Nyr Swamp. Her brilliant idea that could maybe have given them a fighting chance — because of course no one would be stupid enough follow a quarry into a cursed swamp.

On the plus side, she had been right. No one had followed them.

On the down side, no one had needed to.

Considering the three different monster attacks in the space of five hours, the fog that got them instantly and hopelessly lost, the three-hour long limp along the bank of the one clear river in the swamp (their desperate thought being that maybe it flowed out of this Melsyth-forsaken hellscape), and the pathetic last stand they’d made against a band of magic-wielding Nyrthyl warriors — well, it was understandable why the Nyr Swamp had the (literally) accursed reputation it did.

And now we’re captured. Lenesse stared up at the faintly glowing stone ceiling. Makes sense. What else should I have been expecting? A way out? Something NOT terrible? At the very least one night of actual sleep? Well, that would be just… too much to ask for, I guess.

Esyin is probably flipping out even more now, what with the demon-spirit-things. I'm going to hear a lot of I-told-you-so's later, from both him and Andren.

Esyin. Andren.

Lenesse tried to push herself up on her elbows, but a spear haft shoved her back down, knocking her head back against the stone.

“Yeah, they're not letting us move around,” Andren's voice said from her left. "Best to stay still for now."

Lenesse turned her head to look at him. That small action seemed permitted by the guard, standing stiffly within spear-striking distance of all three of them. Esyin was closest to her, lying limply as if he had just been dumped off someone's shoulder - he still looked to be out cold, but his face was facing away from her, so she couldn't tell. Andren was slumped against the wall just beyond him, dried blood cracked across his cheek and matting the rough stubble along his jaw. 

She couldn't remember if that injury had been there before. "You alright?"

Andren nodded. The black eye he’d gotten earlier looked worse in the pale, warmthless light; even more dried blood dribbled from his nose. It looked broken. Again.

She smiled. "You look great."

Andren tried to chuckle, but ending up coughing. The Nyrthyl shoved him back against the wall when he tried to shift into a more comfortable position. "You don't look too bad yourself, Less."

Lenesse rolled her eyes. "Come on, we’ve talked about the nickname thing."

Andren snorted. “What are you going to do? Give me a black eye?”

“Sure, that way you can have a matching set.”

"It'd probably be an improvement," Esyin croaked, stirring a bit for the first time. He tried to straighten out a bit, but got a sharp rap across his injured ankle for his trouble. He winced. "I mean," he added through gritted teeth, "you at least can’t make him look worse. Have you seen his face lately?"

"Well, I could help you out, too, if you want," Lenesse replied. “You can probably use it.”

"Eh. Go jump in a river."

“Rude.”

"Take a bath while you're at it," Andren added, "I've seen cleaner mudskippers."

Lenesse smiled. Her whole body shuddered from cold and exhaustion, but if she closed her eyes and listened only to their voices mumbling out familiar banter, maybe - just maybe - she could convince herself they were all back in the barracks. For one second she could be free of this whole dismal nightmare.

"Can you understand us?" Esyin said, breaking the illusion. He had turned to stare up at the Nyrthyl guarding them.

The Nyrthyl curled his lip, flat, glowering face and glowing skin radiating disdain. His mouth moved for a second, then he stopped.

"So, you can," Esyin said, relaxing back against the stone floor, "you just don't like us enough to try and respond."

"He could just be planning a surprise party for us," Lenesse said dully, still watching the Nyrthyl. His face twitched, and, without moving, his eyes shifted their glare towards her. 

Yeah, he can understand us.

"Just doesn't want to risk giving away the secret," Andren agreed.

"That's probably also why he looks like he wants to throw up every time we talk," Lenesse added.

"I mean, he could just be allergic to cake," Andren said.

The Nyrthyl's hands shifted on his spear, tightening, knuckles whitening.

Man, Lenesse thought, he really is about two seconds from killing all of us.

"A very pleasant fellow," she said out loud.

Andren didn't seem to have anything to add. Esyin was still staring at the wall. 

The silence seemed to echo in the small stone chamber, mingling with what sounded like a river just outside the door. Which was odd. But, come to think of it, legends did say that the Nyrthyl castle had a river flowing through it, so maybe there was even more truth to those tales than previously thought.

It’s probably the river we were following, Lenesse thought. The idea nearly sent her into a fit of hysterical laughter. That had been their last hope, to follow the river out of the swamp to safety. Of course it led them to the Nyrthyls. Of course it had.

Our last hope is going to be what kills us. 

Lenesse bit the inside of her lip, strangling the high-pitched giggle she could feel bubbling up in her throat.

Of course. I mean, did we think we were getting OUT of this? ANY of this?

We marched into the heart of Lanshir's territory and we thought we were going to march back OUT?

It was harder now. She could taste blood on her lip as she bit down more, the suppressed laughter adding to her shudders, a manic grin fighting to break out on her face.

She couldn't even give herself the satisfaction of blaming herself for everyone dying. She might be responsible for them dying in the swamp, but they were always going to die - ever since they stepped out of City of Kings, like all the poor fools sent on this fools errand before them.

She thought of her two little brothers, her parents. Wondered when they'd be told that she was "missing in action". Wondered how Tresha and Ayin would take the news back in the city. Wondered what poor soul would be sent after them to meet a similar deadly fate. Maybe Sir Ralben would get the idea and stop sending his soldiers two by two to their deaths.

Yeah. Two by two. Because I was never even supposed to be here.

Another giggle bitten back. The crowning stupidity of it all was that if she had just done as Fylon had told her, she'd be back in the City of Kings — bored out of her skull, yes, but not tied up to be killed by Nyrthyls. Andren and Esyin would be out here dying on their own.

They'd already be dead, actually. Just at Lanshir's hands, not the Nyrthyls. Because, somehow, she had been stupid enough to think they had any sort of a fighting a chance in any version of events, and had given them all enough hope to drag this all out further. If it hadn’t been for her they'd already be corpses back in the forest.

That thought was the first to nearly brought a sob out of her.

She couldn't think about them dying.

She could die, probably with hysteric laughter if past experience was anything to go by. But not them. It couldn’t be them. Not them lying on the ground, blank eyes staring into nothing. Not them with a spear to their throats. Not them — 

"If you don’t mind, why exactly are we still alive?" Esyin said suddenly.

The Nyrthyl stared at him but did not answer.

"We were trespassing on your land, and you apparently hate us. So why are we still alive? For you to kill us slower? Or do you have some other purpose in mind?"

The Nyrthyl jabbed at him sharply, speaking for the first time in broken, heavily-accented Trade. "No questions."

Answers or not, Esyin had a point.

Why were they still alive?

A shiver ran down her spine. It couldn’t be for anything good.

"I mean, thanks, though," Andren said. "This way you’re giving us enough time to escape and make it out of this mudhole."

Lenesse knew his confidence came from bravado and nothing else. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hug him for it or shake him for being an idiot.

The Nyrthyl laughed, the mocking sound bouncing off the stone room hideously. "Keep that thought, orsidtezc. It will make it more enjoying for me when you scream, dying."

Lenesse flinched involuntarily.

"Sure, if the idea makes you feel better." Andren looked down to lock eyes with Lenesse. "We are going to make it anyway. All the way out."

The fear behind that brash assurance, which she knew was an act for her benefit, nearly broke her resolve to keep from crying. She could see the reality in his posture, strung up as if by puppet wires — slumped but too tense, too ready to snap into sudden action to be believable. She could see it in how wide his eyes were, in how strained his mouth was as he tried to smile at her.

Oh Andren, she thought. I know you're just as scared as I am. Maybe even more so. You're terrified that you're going to have to watch your brother die in front of you. You're terrified of failing him and breaking your promise to keep him safe. You may even be scared of breaking that half-cocked promise you made about protecting me. 

She knew it was all a lie. It didn't make it reassuring. But it did, somehow, make it infinitely more comforting.

"Yeah," she said, smiling grimly, trying to ignore the single, silent tear pooling up in the corner of her eye. "All the way out."

[szentkiralyszabadja]

A moment somewhere in time between the fifties and sixties. 1762 words.

                                                              **

The problem with having your teeth pulled by someone other than a dentist is that when an actual dentist sees the hack job left behind, he has to do twice the work to fix the original problem and the newly created ones, and he bitches about it the whole time you’re sitting there, gaping maw full of another man’s hands and a couple of sharp tools, like it’s somehow your fault that you waited for months before seeing him and can’t grow a whole new set of molars or magic a few tens of thousands of forint for some new ones or something. That’s the way it goes as István walks away from the office with a bill big enough for two people and tasting blood all the while he sucks down two, three cigarettes worth of a walk home to his cement block apartment. The dentist had mumbled around a smoldering cigarette of his own that straws and smoking would mess with the stitching, puffing out his scolding in a cloud of smoke while István blinked hard underneath the singular spiral light fixture overhead. Yeah, he’d show him, the old bastard, István seethes to himself as if he isn’t an ancient bastard himself.

A soccer ball bounces across the stairwell followed by a troupe of four kids clambering down the several flights, ducking to avoid István’s lumbering form, as broad as he is long, dried blood on the corner of his mouth making him look all the more worse for wear against the wash of the concrete. A young lady down the hallway looks at him once, ducks her chin into her scarf, and jiggles her key a little harder. He doesn’t remember what the dentist said about alcohol consumption. If he was worth his salt, then he wouldn’t have said a word.

Shoes go somewhere in the corner by the door, heavy and fraying coat hung on the brass hooks to the right. The radiator’s steaming, which at least means it’s working in some capacity. Too tired to make the short trip back to his coat for the lighter he lights another cigarette over the gas burner, singing a couple eyelashes in the process. Not wanting the flame to go to waste he slides over the kettle and lets it sit to boil.

A few floors underneath his window the kids have started the soccer game, coin toss called and teams divvied up with a few vulgarities smattered in between. Rolling up his sleeves István leans on the edge of the sink, steel biting into his elbows. The curtains that Cvijeta had sent him are a nice touch of life against the toneless backdrop, the window smudged and foggy from the clash of the dreary late winter and the lukewarm temperature of the kitchen. He reaches to tug back the curtains, pauses with his fingers over the window latch, writes a nice fasz kivan in the condensation and dust before unlocking and lifting the thing. Cigarette smoke filters out and the settling evening dew turns the window sill damp. A street over, the tram jingles its merry way across town.

István watches the kids play for a few, mild amusement enough to keep him entertained without radio or television and the newspaper shoved into the bin, still folded, covered in the morning’s coffee grounds. One of the younger ones, Béla or Pista or something or other, really has a mouth on him, makes István think of a younger version of himself but a millennium into the future. His jaw hurts too much to smile about it. Right as the smoke burns itself to the filter and spat into the sink the kettle starts to whistle.

Everything about the world around him and in him is too muted and gray, like he’s had his whole head wrapped and filled with wool and the fog had descended into his head. It could be the halothane or his whole situation but it pisses him off more than saddens him. Catharsis is hard to find within yourself and the same four walls that make up your life. The kettle screams all the while he reaches for the rotary and dials through his short rolodex. Feliks doesn’t answer. Cvijeta does answer, but tipsy, so he lets her go whenever he hears the glass clink against the receiver.

Three more rings gets him another answer.

“Lelkem.” His voice is a drone.

“I’m hanging up.”

“Ilse.” Still no inflection.

“Did you call me in the middle of a murder?” 

He had forgotten the kettle, shrill and demanding his attention, now echoed by a neighbor banging a fist against the wall. “Esetleg. Maybe.” He shrugs, sandwiching the phone between one shoulder and his ear while he takes off the kettle, pouring it into one of the cleaner cups for the tea to steep. “Maybe I’m the one dying.”

The pause is the length of one of her trademark eyerolls. István can picture her poking the phone cord and twirling it around one finger, bored with him already. “So you call me.”

“So I call you. Pretty sad, huh.”

"Do you need me to read you the last rites? What do you want, István." Now her inflection drops flat, a sure sign that he'd better start talking or at least give her a reason to listen to whatever he'd picked up the phone for or else he'd have the company of his hissing radiator and right hand for the night. He clicks off the burner.

"I went to the dentist today," he starts, "Almost got wires in my jaw."

"That would have been a service to us all. Who knew you could find a good dentist in Budapest?"

"Shut up and let me talk, it's hard enough managing this shit and your mouth." The lip print he leaves on the rim of his cup is tinged pink with blood. The poor excuse for tea tastes god awful with the copper tang.

Ilse scoffs, indignant. "Well?"

"I almost got wires in my jaw," he repeats, leaning against the wall where the phone cord droops from the rotary. "Five of my teeth are gone, some guy pulled 'em. I dunno where they went."

"Some guy?" Her tone is surprised, crackling a bit at the end with interference.

"Months ago, some guy took me aside, some building near where I work. It happens sometimes to people," he sips at the too hot drink, parsing his language into vague enough bits that the ears in the walls wouldn't think much, just a conversation between and man and his ex-wife and few illegal tooth extractions. "He tried talking to me, tried to get me to talk about stuff. But you know me, I don't really trust well. You should know that more than anyone, actually." His jaw still hurts enough to prevent a smirk but amusement bleeds into his tone even as she groans.

"So I don't talk to this guy, or his friends with the guns. I think my exact words were 'you'll get more out of a corpse, and I can't die'. They knew I'm one of those immortal things out there. So instead one guy pulls my head back by the nostrils and another guy's got a pair of pliers. The guy with the pliers goes, alright harelip, if you aren't gonna talk now, you'll remember us when you talk later." Then, silence, the kettle cooling and the kids huddled around the street lights. His jaw is throbbing; they were right. So he shrugs and crosses one foot over the other at the ankle, one sock more thread than cloth. "You can guess the rest. So now my jaw hurts."

"Doesn't seem to be stopping you." Her retort lacks the bite that her others had. There are the background noises of her house: a window shutting, a light switch clicking. "I still don't see why you called me. I'm the last person who'd pat your hand over the phone. István--"

"You think I called you for sympathy? Nyasgem. You give yourself too much fucking credit. I called you because at most you'd call me an asshole, and at the very least you'd listen for a minute before hanging up." His teeth clack together when he bites the vowels too hard and he has to spit whenever he finishes. "That's stability for me nowadays. I don't want you to fucking understand because there's nothing worse than two miserable people talking about how miserable they are. Just listen to me for two seconds, call me an idiot bastard again so I can hang up and call it a normal day." He wipes his lower lip with the back of his wrist, punctuating the sentiment.

The silence hangs like smoke--there, but opaque and waiting. "You're an idiot. A total bastard." Her voice cuts through the fog and he can finally take a deep breath.

"Yeah, what you said."

"Waiting for months to fix that bad mouth of yours-- the biggest idiot that side of the curtain."

"You might be right, you might be wrong."

"I'm more right than you'll ever be." There's the Ilse he knows and thinks of, tone as arch as her brow. This time he smirks through the sharp ache at the back of his mouth when she asks, "Can I hang up now? Or do you have to have the last word as always?"

That's all he wanted to hear. "Nah, just one more thing." He turns to the rotary, leaning palm and temple against the wall. "Thanks. Zsóka. Call me first next time." 

“Not on your life.”

It’s a nice promise. His eyelids fall shut at the click of the line, open again when the shrill dial tone beeps its monotone pattern. He drops more than sets the phone back in the cradle and sets his cup aside, the tea gone lukewarm and bitter. The kids are back at the game outside, calling and fighting over a penalty shot.

Still leaning against the wall, István feels better, he supposes. The world is returning to focus, sharp and painful. The empty sockets ache all over again but it's fresh, his pulse echoing in his ears, blood pumping, normalcy returned. He rubs at the sharp line of his jaw, pressing his fingertips into the stubble and skin there, and catches the clock right as the minute hand clicks forward. He latches the window shut again, wipes away the message he wrote on the cloudy glass, but leaves open the curtain.

[fullmetalirin]

Fullmetal Alchemist OG vs. Brotherhood: The Fifth Laboratory (OG 20-22, BH 08)

And now we enter the Fifth Laboratory. OG added a ton of content here, extending this into a full arc.

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 20: "Soul of the Guardian"

The Elrics learn that the guards are souls bound to empty suits of armor. Ed struggles in his battle against Number 48, a serial killer known as Slicer, When his automail arm malfunctions, the result of Winry forgetting to add a small bolt. Ed is troubled to see that his opponent is a pair of brothers, where the younger one controls the body. Ed manages to defeat Slicer by use of Scar's destruction technique, yet he refuses to finish them off, due to seeing Al in the same manner. Al realizes that Number 66 is Barry the Chopper, who tries to suggest that Al never truly existed, saying he was a doll made for Ed. Contemplating on the possibility, Al recalls that Ed was afraid of telling him something.

We open by recapping the fight openers from the end of last episode. This really reeks of padding for time. It's reasonable to show the whole fight, but then why did they show a little bit of them last episode? BH had a much cleaner break.

Apparently the seals work by forming a connection between the iron in the blood and the metal in the armor.

There's a relatively comedic soundtrack during the battle. Why?

Ed leaps back to just barely dodge one of Slicer's attacks, but lands awkwardly and falls.

Ed seemed to get tired out awfully quick compared to the fights he's been in before.

Barry is portrayed as a comedic oaf in his battle, a far cry from the horror villain he was before. I much prefer the latter version. Having Barry show up earlier was a really cool idea, but they probably should have changed his personality here as well. (I also do wonder if it might have been stronger to make him go up against Ed instead, but Ed does need to form a connection with Slicer for what happens later to have the proper impact.)

Ross keeps her cool and takes charge when Armstrong intimidates them.

Ed really shouldn't be able to keep landing on his injured arm like that. I guess maybe the cut was light, but it's bleeding an awful lot.

Slicer cuts through Ed's created spear in a single attack, while the automail's still holding up.

Slicer is talking an awful lot. I guess if he's certain he'll win it's a bit reasonable, but if his entire strategy is tiring Ed out, he shouldn't be pausing to give him opportunities to rest.

Ed is in really bad shape after the second wound.

Slicer throws Ed's "all's fair in war" back at him when he complains about the two souls. LOL.

Slicer interrupts Ed before he can transmute. Good to see someone finally doing that.

Slicer tells Ed to kill them because they're not people. Obviously Ed does not agree with that.

I don't understand how Al can fall for the idea he's not real. They have photographs showing Al existed.

Slicer loses it at the discovery that it's only now that they've become soul-armor that they're treated as people.

"Do you have any proof you really existed???" PHOTOGRAPHS

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 21: "The Red Glow"

Scar luckily arrives and helps a disadvantaged Al defeat Barry. This causes Barry to set off explosives, freeing an imprisoned Greed as well as others around him. The older Slicer agrees to take Ed to the interior of the laboratory, but the younger Slicer breaks his blood seal after Ed calls him human. Solf J. Kimblee, the "Crimson Alchemist", and several other prisoners are led by a fake Grand to be ingredients for the philosopher's stone. Ed and Slicer are attacked by mutant chimeras until they are called off by Tucker, who, after his death was fabricated, has become a chimera himself. As Al and Scar travel into the laboratory, Scar reminisces about his brother and Ishbal, but they are attacked by Lust and Gluttony, who Scar reveals to be homunculi. Tucker shows Ed around the laboratory, who realizes that he has been given the opportunity to create the philosopher's stone.

Barry continues to get played for comedy.

Barry recognizes Scar's arm but doesn't want to say anything about it.

Greed has been imprisoned for 130 years.

The younger Slicer insists there's no life for them so Ed should just kill him. Ed tries to argue by saying if he gets the Philosopher's Stone he'll restore them too, but they just say they'll be executed again, unless he wants to shelter serial killers.

Ed tries to stop him from killing himself, including leaping onto him and restraining his arm. I feel like he should be tearing his wounds open by doing that. Ed looks really horrified when he kills himself.

Ed agonizes over what he could have done. Slicer says there are many problems in the world with no answer.

Why is Envy disguising himself as Grand? They did say the laboratory was under his control, but has news of his death not reached Central?

They foreshadowed Tucker brilliantly, I must say. We were told his execution was rushed, Ed calls it a coverup, and then we learn supposedly executed prisoners were actually funneled into the laboratory. It makes perfect sense.

Tucker looks nicely creepy. His human body is grafted on upside-down. How are his glasses staying on, though?

Ed immediately confronts him over Nina. I am pleased that that is continuing to matter.

Al says he heard Ishbal was destroyed for coming too close to a Philosopher's Stone? When?

Scar flashback! We see his human transmutation attempt. It looks even worse than the Elrics'. But what did he lose in the attempt?

Okay, so apparently they were doing all this to "verify" Marcoh's notes were true? How exactly did they plan to do that? Kill a ton of people and see if anything happened?

Ed tries to ask who runs the place, but doesn't get an answer.

Tucker turned himself into a chimera trying to make a Nina chimera? How does that work? Possibly rebound, if he’s working with flawed Stones.

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 22: "Created Human"

Hughes organizes an expedition to rescue the Elrics in the fifth laboratory. Envy, in the guise of Grand, gathers the human ingredients and forces Ed to attempt to transmute a philosopher's stone. Bradley joins the expedition and mobilizes the military in the rescue mission. Kimblee sets off an explosion, causing the prisoners to fall into the room below. Ed questions the prisoners for their reason being in the laboratory, though this results in a short fight against Envy before Lust intervenes. Lust takes Al hostage, giving Ed the ultimatum of transmuting the philosopher's stone or watching Al's blood seal be broken. Ed fails in his struggle to transmute the stone. Suddenly, Ed's body begins to react after being doused in the incomplete stone, destroying his surroundings. The homunculi escape as the military invades the base and Ross calms Ed down.

Mustang complains about his lack of screentime. Sorry, Mustang, this anime actually cares about its ostensible protagonists.

We cut to Scar fighting Gluttony. He is slammed through a wall and then falls two stories into Greed's prison. How is he surviving all this?

Al says the homunculi aren't people. Interesting, considering how much time we spent on that theme last episode.

Gluttony takes a bite out of Al.

Tucker says Marcoh left the Philosopher's Stones in this lab behind. That seems negligent when he said he was going to take the Stones in the flashback, but it does look like these ones would be harder to steal.

Tucker points out it's not like Ed can turn them back into people; flashback to Nina.

Slicer tries to sunk-cost fallacy it up, saying that the sacrifices' lives will have no meaning unless Ed completes the Stone.

Team Hughes runs into Bradley, who covers himself by saying by golly, he just didn't know what his direct subordinate was doing, and never bothered to ask! He somehow already knows Ed and Al are in there, and agrees to come with everyone for the rescue. The other soldiers are pleased, but Hughes looks suspicious.

Tucker seems to be tricking Ed into thinking he only needs to work on the liquid, and not that there will be additional deaths.

We get some nice science from Ed with him devising a strategy to refine the Stones.

Kimblee explains how he makes bombs: he transmutes the trace metals and organic compounds in the human body into explosives.

Ed doesn't joke when Envy calls him a pipsqueak. Thank you.

Ed tries to fight, but his automail arm goes limp. Envy beats him up.

Ooh, Envy suddenly gets angry at Ed for "carrying his blood". So we're foreshadowing that, too.

The homunculi promised Tucker they'd teach him how to bring Nina back to life.

Ed points out he won't have Nina's soul, but Tucker says he can place all his memories of her into the body and that will, in fact, be even better than the real thing. Cut to Al looking suspicious.

Lust says the homunculi can't use alchemy, which is why they need Ed. Why couldn't they just have Dante do it, though?

Ed pieces together that he's been dancing to their strings the whole time and has a breakdown. Apparently they taught Marcoh as well. What I want to know is why they wanted to destroy his research if they wanted someone to follow it? Were they worried that their prospective alchemist would have a crisis of conscience if they learned too much?

Lust invokes equivalent exchange: we give you the Stone, you use it to make us human.

Slicer moans in pain when Lust scrapes his seal. Ed looks horrified and screams at her to stop.

Al screams at Ed to stop, saying he doesn't want this if it's at the cost of human lives. Envy laughs and points out he knew that when he tried to transmute Trisha, but he did it anyway: only a human life can pay for a human life. Lust chimes in that they knew they were becoming dogs of the military, and they accepted it. They've always been willing to make sacrifices for this goal, so what's one more, really? Ed actually looks like he buys into it, saying if he gives up here they'll never get their bodies back.

But Ed can't bring himself to do it in the end.

ONLY NOW does Scar come to the rescue. Why was he waiting until the last second???

Bradley orders the rescue team to kill all non-civilians, makes a scary face. So I guess he's writing this off as a loss, perhaps planning to move everything to a new location later.

Ross hugs Ed and this somehow stops the runaway reaction. He passes out afterwards, so it could just be that that was going to happen anyway and they just needed to calm him down before he blew anything up.

Ed thinks Ross is his mom before he passes out, which is a little weird but hey, he's had a really bad day. And it’s another reminder on the child soldier thing.

Sloth tells the homunculi good job. Uh... why? They failed, and seem to have wrecked their supplies in the process. This seems like it should actually be a big setback.

We end with everyone clapping as Armstrong brings out the unconscious brothers. I found it a powerful visual: the brothers just went through Hell and barely made it out alive, and everyone’s just overjoyed the rescue was a success.

FMA Brotherhood Episode 8: "The Fifth Laboratory"

At the fifth laboratory, Alphonse fights Barry the Chopper outside, and Edward faces Slicer inside. It is revealed that both opponents are souls of murderers affixed to armor. Edward struggles in his battle when his automail arm malfunctions. Alphonse initially has the advantage in his fight, until Barry suggests that Alphonse never truly existed, claiming he was a doll made by Edward with false memories, causing Alphonse to contemplate the possibility. Edward is particularly troubled when his opponent turns out to be a pair of brothers, each controlling a different part of the armor. Edward manages to defeat Slicer by use of Scar's destruction technique, but before he can extract any information from the two brothers, they are killed by Lust and Envy. Edward demands to know who they are and tries to use alchemy, but his automail arm breaks and he is knocked out by Envy. Outside, Barry almost gains the upper hand over Alphonse, but Alphonse is saved by the arrival of Brosh and Ross. Lust and Envy destroy the lab to cover up the evidence of the philosopher's stone, but not before carrying Edward outside and handing him over to Brosh and Ross, commenting that he is a valuable resource.

Slicer's arena looks very different, much brighter with warmer colors. There's a Philosopher's Stone transmutation circle in it.

Slicer zooms forward and then pauses for like three seconds to give a one-liner. This is something that works in comics but not in animation. They're adapting the manga way too literally.

Ed doesn't need to see the bloodseal to figure out Slicer is animated armor. Slicer actually shows him his bloodseal once he figures it out and outright tells him he'll win if he destroys it. Ed lampshades how dumb this is, and Slicer says he "likes a little tension". I hate this trope. Let the heroes earn their victories, don't just give it to them, please.

Mustang still hasn't found Scar, and says he's believed to be dead.

Cut to Ross and Brosh finding the brothers escaped. Cartoon face.

They head to the 5th laboratory without consulting Hughes or any of that.

We still get the bit about Ed's shoulder being loose, but the only explanation is Winry saying it's lighter, not that she forgot a piece.

Ed still gets cut on the shoulder, but it's way less gruesome. It just looks like he's got a red tattoo under his jacket, it's not even bleeding.

But he does get blood on his head somehow? Brotherhood really likes doing that.

Cartoon face when Slicer calls Ed a monkey. I don't think it's appropriate, but I'll concede this one is more subjective.

Ed doesn't look nearly as exhausted. In OG he's covered in sweat by this point and visibly staggering with every move.

We get a flashback story about Barry since we don't know him in this continuity. There's just comedy as Al says he's never heard of him.

Same skit where Barry demands Al be freaked out about his body, only more cartoonish.

Al gets an anger mark placed… in midair…

Bit where Barry makes Al doubt his memories is pretty much the same. Once again, no one brings up photographs.

The guard from before tries to interrupt them and is killed by Barry. So… why couldn't Barry and Slicer just break out at any time? The only thing stupider than mad scientists creating an unstoppable supersoldier that will inevitably turn on them is it not turning on them for no given reason.

I hate the way the blood is drawn. It looks so fake. It's overdetailed, with clearly-defined outlines. It looks like it's just red goop.

Ed doesn't create a fake Al for his trick, which I think is more reasonable – the whole point was that Slicer wasn't giving him time to use alchemy in the OG fight. The fake Al was really only there as a fakeout of the audience.

We're speedrunning the fight. Ed gives his same line about blood loss making him woozy, but without POV cam to show it it's a lot less effective.

Cartoon face when younger Slicer starts flailing around.

Barry tells Al to break his bloodseal to find out if he's real; if he isn't, he should still be able to move. This is just getting more and more implausible. There'd be no need to add a useless bloodseal if Ed wasn't actually binding a soul.

Same bit where Slicer loses it at only now being called a person.

Slicer is about to tell Ed about the Philosopher's Stone and who ordered them to guard the place, but the homunculi show up and kill him, saying they can't let him tell Ed too much. So I guess the homunculi are also running the 5th laboratory in this continuity? So we still have the plot hole of them not trying very hard to keep Ed alive. Also not sure why they care so much about spilling the beans? Are they afraid knowledge of Philosopher's Stones can be used against them, since they're powered by them? Doesn't seem like they have any cause for that – you don't need to know anything about Philosopher's Stones to kill them, and fighting them is still a challenge.

Lust's fingernails bend.

Younger Slicer is upset when older Slicer dies.

Envy tortures younger Slicer to death by slowing cutting away at his bloodseal.

Envy admonishes Slicer for nearly killing one of their sacrifices. So… why didn't you… stop him earlier…?

Ed doesn't joke about Envy calling him pipsqueak. Congrats on restraining yourself for once, Brotherhood.

Aaand as soon as I say that, there's comedy when Ed's arm goes limp.

The homunculi say they're allowing Ed to live, but also that they can't have him sniffing around the laboratory again, so they're going to burn the place down. I still don't understand why they're trying so hard to keep this secret.

Ross and Brosh rescue Al from Barry. They're alone.

Envy just… delivers Ed and runs off.

We get a small scene with Kimblee, but he doesn't escape.

Ed doesn't see Envy transform, so he's not aware of that ability yet.

Conclusion

This is the first major divergence. OG has massively expanded the 5th laboratory plot into a full arc that establishes the villains' motivations, greatly furthers the hero's character development, and brings it all to an intense climax that engages with the driving question of the narrative. OG has finally committed to making its own plot, and the quality has skyrocketed as a result.

Almost everything I complained about in the OG episodes was there in the source as well. The Elrics having no clear reason to do any of this? In Brotherhood too. Lulzy serial killers? In Brotherhood too. Al forgetting photographs exist? In Brotherhood too. The villains supposedly needing Ed alive but not doing anything to keep him that way? In Brotherhood too.

Meanwhile, everything I liked about this arc was added by OG. Scar showing up? OG only. Tucker? OG only. Realistic fight choreography? OG only. Ed actually getting a chance to engage with the morality of affirming the humanity of murderers? OG only. Ed showing humanity and compassion for them? OG only. Awesome midpart cliffhanger? OG only. Interesting villain motivations? OG only. Actually menacing villains? OG only. Ross and Brosh actually acting like soldiers, and the military being functional? OG only. Something of narrative significance actually happening during this arc? OG only.

The good parts of the OG episodes are in spite of the source material, not thanks to them. The flaws were there because the writers weren't quite good enough to fix everything wrong with the disaster of a plot they were handed. And this is a disaster. No one's actions match their motivations. Ross and Brosh don't behave anything like actual soldiers. The heroes gain absolutely nothing of value. It is a complete waste of our time. The wheel-spinning that will characterize this entire series has already begun.

About the only substantive criticism I can give of the OG episodes is that the first half is a bit too slow even for me – but the Brotherhood episode is too fast, I'd say. It'd have been better for them to strike a middle ground, maybe spreading it into two episodes instead of three. 22 is pretty solid, but 20 and 21 could probably have been combined without losing much. But again, we just come back to the same point: OG would have been better if it had been even more irreverent to the source material and diverged even sooner.

On representation: Ross is once again the more important of the two by a mile. Brosh is barely a presence in OG. Her cooldown hug plays into some problematic feminine tropes, but the framing makes it clear that it was a truly brave act – even Armstrong hesitated to wade into Ed's storm. That alone makes Ross a truly strong female character in my book. Whether or not she can shoot stuff good isn't the only criteria that matters. Is she smart? Is she brave? Is she treated with dignity by the narrative? OG says yes to all three, unequivocally. Brotherhood says no to the former and latter, and a "yes, but not any moreso than her male comedy buddy" to the second.

[shadow-is-upon-us]

Whatever it takes

This is kinda the last one before the whole competition event (I think) so it's more toned down and... relaxing? I don't know.

Also, for those unaware or who don't read the By your side story, I am not a fan of Mineta and it shows. Sorry to any fans, but just... no. Read, review and enjoy~

Find links to FanFic and Ao3 on my master post! (As well as other stories) [Ch1] [Ch2] [Ch3]

Chapter 4 Helping

He was exhausted that day, but the smell of pancakes as he entered the house seemed to revive him instantly.

“Welcome home!” Hizashi called, stepping into the hall wearing his yellow apron with headphones painted on them. Shinso bought him that a few years ago as a birthday present and Mic has had it since then. His hair was tied in a long ponytail and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. Despite clearly cooking, he looked cleaner than either of the insomniacs.

“Congratulations on finishing your combat training!” the two high-fived and bumped fists as Shota rolled his eyes with a smile and made his way into the kitchen.

“Dad says it’s not really finished, but good enough. Thanks for the tips though!” Hitoshi said with a grin as he sat down in his usual spot. He had tried ignoring the pancakes but his eyes kept slipping to the counter.

“Haha, well, that’s cause for celebration anyway! And I made your favorite!” Yamada proudly spun around, holding a plate of pancakes.

“Honestly, you have too much time on your hands sometimes,” Aizawa sighed but smile none the less as Shinso seemed to want to devour the food.

“Someone has to, right? You’re usually busy with work,” Yamada shrugged and took a seat, but not before grabbing a serving of food for himself and Shota.

“Well, we can finally put that time to good use – he needs a costume,” Eraserhead said with a grin as the kid was almost choking on a bite too big.

“Ah, a hero costume! I remember when we were young and we had to pick our own ones! I recall you just wanted to be in your pajamas.”

The snort from Shinso and the choking sound from Aizawa sent Yamada into a laughing fit as the two tried to catch their breaths and not fall off their chairs.

Quirk training was different from combat, and Shinso wasn’t sure which one was worse. He only had one person to practice on and that was his own father. They had to first test the upper limits of Hitoshi’s Quirk; how strong the impact has to be to break it, is there was a distance limit, how much focus Hitoshi himself needs to maintain…

During those times, especially when he was using his Quirk, Shinso felt sick. He didn’t like it the first time he willingly used his Quirk on his father, and he hated it now. It was the reason this training was working so badly – he wasn’t able to properly focus and concentrate. But he never said that he felt something whispering in his ear as he used his power, that it told him to be stronger and better and telling him he’s in control now.

Today was the start of the last week of training they had and Hitoshi aimed to make the most of it. He’s made a lot of progress, but with only one person to train with, it was hard to tell just how much. He’ll just have trust his father.

He just released his Quirk as he started panting and doubled over on his knees, head low. His body felt a bit numb, but nothing he couldn’t deal with. The headache was pounding in his head, and while it wasn’t unusual, it was worse than normal.

“We’re done for today,” Shota said and Hitoshi looked up in surprise.

“But I can still do more!” he insisted, swallowing to catch his breath.

Aizawa simply walked over and wiped his finger under his nose and across his lips. As he brought the fingers up, the kid saw blood trailing off them. He instinctively reached up himself and felt the warm liquid drip down and could teste it in his mouth.

“You’re at your limit – don’t push it too hard.” He never knew he could actually bleed from overuse, but his father explained it that, much like his Erasure Quirk, Brainwashing can leave physical effects on the user. He’s only bled twice in all the time of training before; the first was an accident because he was pushing himself too much and the second was a test to see his limits. This time, he wasn’t even really aware of it.

“We still have a week… I guess it’s about time we really see what you’re capable of right now,” Shota gave a small grin as he handed his son a towel. “Be ready for company tomorrow.”

He was walking today, unfortunately. His father was called away on hero duty and his uncle was at his podcast, doing a special for his fans- listeners as he insisted. He wasn’t going to complain – it gave him some time and fresh air to cool off. As he was getting his things and getting ready to leave, he heard some shouting to the left of the school. He tried to ignore it, his headache still beating around, but he forced himself to check it out. There shouldn’t even be that many people at school anymore.

“Stay away you creep!” he recognized the voice – it was Yukino Kair. She must have stayed at the library, studying for the English test tomorrow.

“C’mon, just a little smooch!” that voice was familiar, but not one he’s heard much of.

“Damn you, you little shit! Let me out of these sticky balls and I’ll make you regret asking us for help!” and that was Zoey Zedd, sounding as angry as ever. But if she was trapped somehow… That made Shinso quicken his pace as he almost ran to the scene.

“I thought we were friends!” Hitoshi turned the corner and saw his classmates stuck to the wall with purple balls, as a short boy stood in front of them.

“Hey!” Shinso yelled and got the trio’s attention. As soon as the other boy turned around, he recognized him – Minoru Mineta from the Hero Course.

“Shinso!” Yukino smiled with relief, but there was worry in her eyes as well.

“The hell are you doing here this late?” Zoey of course couldn’t care less.

“…” Mineta stayed silent, but his eyes were wide.

“What are you doing?” Hitoshi asked, narrowing his eyes. His fists were already clenched and he was ready for a surprise attack.

“This pervert wanted to have some fun!” Zedd hissed and he could see her skin turning purple in her poison. But it’d only work if she had physically contact with another person.

“We agreed to help him since he asked nice enough…” Kair sounded guilty, but angry none the less.

“H-Hey now-!” Minoru started, but was cut off by the other boy.

“Stop,” at his order, the Hero Course student froze. Shinso looked tense and focused as he bit his lip. It was a bit too fast for him to be using an advance version of his Quirk so soon, but he’d manage.

“Release my friends.” The pervert moved automatically and picked off his sticky balls from the walls and even the girls. All the while, Hitoshi chewed on his lip as the pain in his head increased. For a second there, the world even blurred a bit.

“Now,” he grunted and put a hand under his nose, feeling the blood slowly dripping. “Go home and never bother these girls again.”

As Mineta wordlessly left, Shinso leaned on a wall to catch himself and released his control. He was panting and the world was spinning, but before he lost his balance and fell down, he felt strong pairs of arms hold him up.

“That was so cool Shinso!” Zoey smiled, but the relief in her eyes couldn’t be missed.

“Thanks a lot!” Yukino smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

“Anytime,” he managed weakly, giving his own small smile.

“We should get you to Recovery Girl – I’m sure she’s still working.

“Oh, um, no, you don’t have to-,”

“You can’t walk, you’re bleeding and you looked more exhausted than usual. You’re going to her.”

Hitoshi didn’t have the energy to fight them, so he settled for letting out a humorless chuckle. He hasn’t been at Recovery Girl’s place since his father was in there after the USJ attack. This time, seems like their roles were reversed though.

Chiyo wasn’t happen when they brought in Shinso, and she actually shooed out the girls after assuring he’s going to be fine. Still, she was as kind as always as she checked him over.

“Quirk overuse…” she muttered shaking her head. “Like father like son I guess…”

“He… doesn’t know yet, does he?” Hitoshi asked, a bit fearfully even. He really didn’t want to get his ear chewed off by his father. Maybe his uncle, since Mic usually brought some sweets or something along.

“No, he’s working, so I didn’t call him. Called your homeroom teacher though – she’s still at school and should arrive soon,” Shuzenji said casually as the kid let out a breath of relief.

“I should ask what happened, given the situation and the hour, but…” she turned her back to him, a kind smile on her face. “Heroes will be heroes.”

“Shinso?” Lyla Zin called as she almost ran into the infirmary room, a look of worry and panic on her face.

“Hey,” he said causally, the exhaustion clinging to him. Recovery Girl gave him something for the headache, but it made him all the more tired. Maybe a bit dizzy even.

“Thank goodness, I was worried!” she said, letting out a breath of relief. “What were you doing?” her tone changed quickly though, as she put her hands on her hips.

“…Helping?” he tired, wincing under her tone. She was hardly, if ever, really mad, but seems like this was one of those times.

“Helping? Who? With what? And why did it include your Quirk?” Lyla clearly wasn’t going to let it pass. But her worry was clear and understandable.

“Umm… It’s… a long story,” he settled on and heard the teacher sigh. He really wasn’t sure what to say, if anything at all.

“Honestly…” Zin shook her head and took a seat on a nearby chair. Recovery Girl was back in her own place, working on some paperwork it seems.

“Um, Miss Zin?” Shinso said a bit awkwardly, mentally smacking himself for starting off like that. But he need to tell her, assuming she didn’t know already.

“I don’t know if Aizawa had said anything, but I’m going to try for transfer and-,” before he could fumble over his own words, Lyla put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I already know, Hitoshi. He told me, we discussed it all… And we promised we’d wait until you were ready to talk about it,” she was completely calm and her voice calmed him as well.

“…I just don’t know how to tell the others. We all feel the same, but I’m the only one getting this chance? It… doesn’t feel that fair…”

“Hitoshi,” she said and he looked up at her as she smiled. “You are getting this opportunity because you showed promise. And while yes, all of you wish to be in the Hero Course, it’s simply not how it works. But,” she paused and patted his head gently. “I’m sure the whole class is going to support you in this. After all, you’re the star of the General Studies and if you can make it, so can they. You’ll be the Hero for all General Studies students now and to come, I’m sure of it,” she said and leaned closer, giving a small kiss to his forehead as the kid tried to suppress the incoming sobs. Damn, the medicine made him weaker than he thought.

He’s had very few people outside his family stay things like that to him, and after years of being treated as a villain, it always made him so happy. Especially given what his teacher said he might become – a Hero to the General Studies. It sounded so ridiculous, but he couldn’t ask for a better legacy.

Later that day, when it was already dark, Hizashi came to pick him up since he wasn’t allowed to leave on his own. Worried, surprised and slightly impressed, Yamada only lightly probed the boy as to what happened. Hitoshi said what he did before – he was helping. Mic clearly didn’t buy it, but he respected the boy’s insistence on not saying.

“Please, don’t tell dad okay?” Shinso asked, almost begged as they stepped inside the house.

“Tell me what?” Shota stepped into the hall, a frown on his face and arms folded across his chest. His hair was tied in a bun and wore a simple black shirt with pants. Must have been home for a while now.

“Busted,” the two thought, but Yamada casually managed to laugh a moment later.

“Well, I was taking Toshi here out since he’s been doing so well,” Mic shrugged, not even flinching at the narrowed eyes his friend was giving.

“And you didn’t tell me anything?” Aizawa kept looking from one person to the other and kid was nearly cracking.

“Well, you were off and we didn’t feel like bothering you,” Hizashi treaded dangerous waters but he still slung an arm around Eraserhead. “Sorry ‘bout that!”

Shota didn’t look too convinced, but he sighed and closed his eyes none the less. He put his hand on Hizashi’s face and pushed the man off his shoulder before heading into the kitchen and muttered something under his breath, but neither of them heard him. Instead, they let out silent breathes of relief with Hitoshi giving a grateful nod of thanks and Mic simply winking back.

When he finally made it to his room, Shinso plopped down on his bed and let out a satisfied sigh. He was exhausted, but it felt good. This kind of exhaustion showed him he was doing his best and giving his all and that it will work out in the end. But he thought back to what his father said a while ago, about this whole ‘transfer’ thing.

“Depending on how you do in this event, you’ll either replace or simply transfer to a class. Right now you’re set up to get into A-1 but that can still change, so do your best, okay?”

Before today, he was aiming at the simple transfer, but since he’s met Mineta, he wondered what he could to do about him. Could he really risk the replacement option though? What if it’s not Mineta he’d replace, but someone else entirely?

He pondered on that for a while, even changing into his sleeping clothes, when he decided to wait and see what happens. He won’t settle on either just yet, but will keep them in mind for when the competition starts.

And cut! Yeah, this is kinda the last of the 'days of training' thing, so the story will probably pick up now. Also, if anyone is curios about that something Shinso keeps feeling when he uses his Quirk, I made a short post/idea/story o titled Hitoshi vs Shinso  and you can check it out if you fancy. Might kinda spoil something that comes later and that I'm using in the story but well, it's there if anyone's curios =P ANYWAY! Thanks a lot for reading and I do hope you enjoyed! Do review and tell me what you thought! I love hearing from my readers! Till next time~

[fatherofsource]

the hospital between realms

The hospital between realms a place where anyone or things can be treated for all payment except death. It was pure luck that Rim Sang-Chul found the place but everything afterword was himself.

’keep running’ Rim ordered himself even as his legs ached. He the shouting of his chasers was good motivation. ’if they catch you your dead, worse they kill this child’ he looked down at the bundle in his arms some him asleep.

Ducking behind a stone tree Rim tried to catch his breath. He’s been running the last two weeks and he was on his last legs, if something didn't happen they weren't going to make it. ’I almost wish I believed in gods, ’ taking a few breaths he got ready to run and just in time.

”THERE HE IS!” cursing rim took off deeper into the stone forest. Weaving through the trees he avoids the projectiles aimed at him, sometimes by a hair with.

This didn't last long and he took a rock to the head. Stumbling Tim badly kept his feet underneath him. ” shit!” his vision was turning red. Blinking his eye he kept moving, he had to.

”ugh!” he stumbled now there was a burning in his ankle. He probably scraped it but there wasn’t time to check. ’now not the time!’ he thought to himself as he felt cool tear ran down his face. ”we're gonna make it, we're gonna make I-it” his voice broke with a cry.

”dear essences ”, he stood on the edge of a ravine one he could cross. He was crying in Earnest now he was gonna make it. He could hear the mob getting closer, they were gonna catch him and drag him back to that hell of a home.”not on the essences” he decided with a voice of steal turning his back to the ravin he could at the approaching mob specifically the one he had called a friend.

With a rude gesture to them, he stepped back letting gravity do its work. The wind ruffled his lavender hair as he fell as he watched the silver sky get farther and farther away. Holding the, infant closing his eyes he sung a lullaby for the last time. or so he thought.

potential manger found...transporting!

SMACK

Rim winced as he hit ground, ”that hurt a lot less then u thought.” opening his eyes he released he was no longer in the ravine, ”well we're still together!” rocking the sturring baby he looked around. ”You know I never thought about where I would go when I dead?”

You are not dead, you have been transported to the hospital between realms.

”oh, okay then...well thank you for the save. But why” he could be leave the voice that was coming from everywhere saved him just because.

You have potential to fill a vacant position in the hospital.

”i see!” he really didn't. But before he could ask more the child he carried woke up crying.” really now you wake up, after everything” he just couldn't believe it as he rocked the child. Rim quickly figured that he didn't need a change and he wasn’t hungry ’okay then why is he crying.’

As rim tried to figure it out he continued to rock him.”~time passes but my love never changes~” the singing seemed to help but he didn't go back to sleep but it would have to do.”so what position do you want me to fill?” the everywhere voice response promptly

manger

Somehow it sounds hopeful but he has one question, ”what if a say no?”

you will be transported to the other side of the ravine

Well, that was nice, ”all I have is on my person. Becoming the manager of this hospital seems like a good way to start over, so what do I have to do?”

Follow the glowing orbs

Before he could ask the happy voice what orbs, reveal glowing orbs dropped from the ceiling. Rim started in winder as the baby copied and reached for them. When the floated away rim was knocked from his trance and followed after them.

He wasn't sure how long he walked with his aching feet. But he knew two things, this place was like and it was dirty as hell. As forcing himself to move for so long he was glad to see the orbs stop in front of a door. Grabbing the handle he pushed the door open and almost shut it back seeing the mess inside.

Covering the baby's mouth along with his own. rim opened the door and was hit by a wall of dust and smells. The only clean thing in the room was a faint shining crystal on a filthy desk.

Place a hand on the crystal

Reading himself rim places the little one down before doing as instructed. ”o-” he fainted not a moment later.

”ugh” he woke sometime later to the tot’s wails. but try as he could he couldn't move his limbs much less stand. He tried to sing from where he was but barely a groan left his lips.’what am I supposed to do!’

Charge complete, generator at 5%, activating assistance nurses

Wonder what that meant rim continued to try and calm the baby only for three somethings to enter the room. They looked like the top half of skeletons, the fact they floated didn’t make them less creepy. For a moment rim thought he was going to have to fight them only for two to help him up while the third calm crying.” assistance nurses I’m guessing?” the two living benign were carried out of the dusty office. Carried through the halls noted leat ten more of the assistance nurse cleaning up.

There were three in the room he was carried into, it was cleaner than the rest of the hospital but still very dirty. He was laid on a mildly clean bed while the infant was rocked, the everywhere voice told him to rest he would need to regather streach before anything else.” all right, I’ll rest for now” the moment he closed his eye he was out like a light.

A week, seven days. That how long it took for him to from whatever the voice asked him to do. In that week he learned about the place he inhabited, the hospital between realms built by someone who didn’t wish to be remembered. He made it with one purpose treat everyone no matter what, nothing matters in this hospital for all. It was his life’s work but even he wasn’t unaware of it complete potential.

The voice was the hospital itself, it only gained the ability to speak after its creator’s death. It al encountered a problem afterward, it took much power to run the place. It took some time to find the right source of power spirit the power inside of people. It spent years with the help of its creator friend finding the best way to use this.

The crystal in the mangers office was that result, well part of it. A generator was built that would take the small bit of spirit and turn it into enough power to run the hospital.” so I’m a fuel source?”

No, people are something I don’t understand. Plus there are limits to what I can do.

He was fine with that, even the hospital between realms needed help. Somehow that made him feel better about staying here as it manger. “So what needs to be done?” he had asked even though he could barely walk.

recruitment, people feel better then they are treated by other people. Along with other jobs that need to be filled.

Rim nodded in understanding before asking what kind of people they need. Until he could walk once they planned, but Rim was upset that the hospital wouldn’t let him out until he got heather. It took him pointing out they had no food, and what was in the hospital was on the verge of becoming inedible. Not to mention the kitchen need many repairs along with other places. But the materials were needed, so he had to go and buy them. He was starting to see a problem the hospital had tunnel vision when it came to healing people.

I can only transport you to where a grabbed you

Apparently, the spatial information of the hospital was outdated, but that was fine rim could work with the valley. So after kissing the baby goodbye he was in the valley,” okay then” tightening the bracelet the hospital gave him rim got started climbing. At the top of the valley, he laid on the ground,” shit that was shit” he could barely feel his lungs and don’t get him started on his limbs.

He fell asleep in that spot only to be woken by something liking his face,” AAHh” missing whatever it was rim rolled to his hands and knees looking around. It was a pet judging from the collar and from how well feed and healthy it looked, the pet lived close by. That meant village or at least a camp where he could get directions.

It turned out to be a small city, he didn’t recognize the name. Then again he wasn’t sure how far he traveled while running from that persistent mob.’ i need a map,’ but he had no money so for now. “I have to solve that problem,” maybe he could find work in this city. Anyway, he needs to explore for now.

Hours passed before he found something helpful a poster, evergreen academy. “Holy shit!” he knew this school, it was known for its medical teachings. More so it was more than a million miles from his home village. ‘Well distance aside I can use this, I bet at least one graduate requires a job.’ looking closer at the flyer he found that date before realizing he had no idea what that day was.

Asking a helpful old lady he learned the date, he had three days before graduation. That was plenty of time to start fixing up the hospital. “There a garden so I should get seeds,” those were probably cheap and maybe he could find a job. He found his way to the shopping district of the city and while he didn’t find any seeds he did find something useful.

Garbage

Food garbage to be more specific, remain of fruits and vegetables that were used when cooked or sold. Parts that could be used to regrow whole ones.’ and he said listing to that useless!’ gather up all he could carry and ignoring the looks with practiced ease. Arms loaded he headed off into alleys away from the eyes,” I’m ready to come back”

The next moment RIm had returned to the hospital. An assistant nurse quickly relieved him of his burden.

Was your trip fruitful?

Rim nodded and gave the short version of what happened, then he explained the idea he had.

Yes, that can be done, but I do not know-how.

“I have an idea how it’s done,” he then explains what he knew as the asinine nurses headed to the mostly cleaned out garden. Following the instructions, it was given meanwhile Rim sighed. when the hospital asked what was wrong he explains what the lack of funds was causing. It didn’t know what the people of the current era valued. Rim assured I that would figure something out. For now, he was going to wash up then play around with the baby,’ he probably misses me.’

After washing up in the bathroom that still needs to be repaired but at least was clean. He got dressed in his only pair of clothes. He followed some glowing balls to where the infant was playing with an assistant nurse. He watched a bit enjoying the baby’s laughter, that when something accord to him.” I have given them their temporary name?!” rim culture dictated that a parent gave their child a temporary name until there 12 birth anniversary where they chose there own.

But before he could get the chance to think about that he had to run. “I shouldn’t think of that... she had wanted to call you sol. Causes your our little sun.”