#then his route continues and you find out that he’s an immortal being who saw how scared you were when he woke up

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

today i’m thinking abt leonardo ikevamp :33

[teecupangel]

Part 3 and because @kingdomheartsrox and @thewolfprince wanted Templar!Haytham, you guys are getting Templar Haytham XD

Desmond’s Ancestors (Part 3 - Edward)

So, while the Immortality gang continue to try and find the singularity point, Edward (with Mary and Anne) live with their children in London. Haytham will still have Tessa as his mother (for the necessary genes) and Tessa becomes Edward’s wife.

If we’re going for the polycule route for Edward-Mary-Anne, Tessa feels threatened by his relationship with Mary and Anne even if she’s Edward’s official wife. If it’s purely platonic between Edward, Mary and Anne, Tessa thinks that Edward is lying and sleeping with them. Either way, it ends with Tessa being ‘seduced’ by Birch into becoming a Templar. The Templar heard rumors that one of the women (Mary or Anne) might be an immortal but they have their guard up so they used Tessa’s access inside the Kenway mansion to spring a trap.

This means that instead of Edward dying because of freaking ‘thugs’ (seriously, Ubisoft???), he is actually shot by Tessa from behind while they’re alone (with Mary and Anne taking the other children out of the mansion while Edward stayed to find Tessa and Haytham) during a Templar raid. The last thing he sees is Tessa shouting for Haytham and it’s a slow painful death because Tessa accidentally (or maybe not) shot him on the spleen. He lives long enough for Mary to find him when she came back after making sure Anne has the other children safe and sound with the Brotherhood.

Edward dies in Mary’s arms while the Assassins she took with her chase down the Templars and Edward revives to see Mary crying. They find out he’s immortal too but they hid it from the other Assassins and they talk to Anne about what Edward saw and what they learned ( shoutout to @thewolfprince for guessing what I had planned to make sure Haytham becomes a Templar XD)

So Tessa took Haytham and left with Birch, with the Templars going into hiding afterward. A few days later, someone torched the Kenway mansion and they’re pretty sure it’s one of the Templars who had either done it themselves or they paid someone to do it for them.

Either way, the three decide to sorta split up. Anne with Jenny and the other two children would stay in London to work with the other Assassins (and to make sure someone is always ready to welcome Haytham back if he manages to return by himself) and Anne would take care of training their children to be Assassins.

Edward and Mary would find a way to contact and meet up with the Adrestia because Mary believes they could help and it would be easier to find for clues on where they took Haytham if they had their own ship.

At this point, the Adrestria is masquerading as a merchant ship (and they do have supplies and such that they sell in ports because Ezio will not, under any circumstances, allow them to be poor XD)

Anyway, Haytham is brainwashed by Birch and Tessa in believing he’d been abandoned by his family and that they never loved him anyway with Tessa laying on it thick that all he needs is his dear mummy. Really, just Tessa Mother Gothel-ing Haytham with sprinkles of “you won’t leave mummy will you?” and Birch pretending to be a good ‘father figure’.

Edward and Mary do reach the Adrestria and they say the truth about what had happened. At this point, only Altaïr and Ezio knows about how Desmond knows of ‘a future’ so they spinned it to the Apple showing Desmond that specific future where Haytham will be in the colonies at around 1754 but everyone knows that’s too long. Almost 2 decades to let Haytham be in the hands of the Templars and Desmond also stressed that, by that time, Haytham would have been lost to them. This gets Edward fired enough to shout at Desmond that his son will never be lost to him, no matter what, with Ezio placing a hand on Edward’s chest to stop him in case he tries to throttle Desmond while Altaïr grabs Desmond’s wrist and pushes him quickly behind him.

It’s Bayek who steps in and tells everyone to calm down. That panicking and getting into each other’s throat will not help Haytham at all.

For now, they decide to try and find clues using what Desmond had ‘seen’ from the Apple.

Desmond’s Ancestors (Part 4 - Haytham… sorta)

This proves much harder than they anticipated because the Templars had evolved to combat Altaïr, Ezio and Bayek’s inclusion to this timeline. They’d gone deeper underground than what Desmond is used to, focusing on keeping their Templar affiliation a secret even to one another. No one even knows who the Grand Masters are at the moment and, really, that’s the most frustrating part of all.

Since we did decide Haytham will be a Templar, the Immortality gang will be unsuccessful in saving him before he fully commits to the Templar Order. The first time they heard of Haytham, they learned he had almost killed one of his older siblings (it would be very ironic if it was Anne’s child because that child was meant to die in canon or very tragic if it was Jenny). Edward still believes he can be reasoned with and ‘saved’, Desmond keeps quiet this time because, well, he’s also conflicted.

He doesn’t want Haytham to be a Templar, someone against them, but, at the same time, he knows he risks Ratonhnhaké:ton not being born if they intercepts Haytham’s ‘fate’ too early. So he keeps quiet and tries to help as best he could when other people think of a plan but won’t think of anything that could actually help.

Altaïr and Ezio notice this but they don’t say anything because they believe Desmond has a reason for keeping quiet. The others believe Desmond is keeping quiet because he doesn’t want to push Edward further (which is kinda true)

Anyway, Haytham still goes to the colonies before the immortality gang (maybe Desmond even made sure that he had a headstart?) and they got there just after Shay left for Lisbon. Achilles is still the mentor and it only takes Altaïr a few days of observing Achilles to realize that Achilles was not in the right headspace to be the mentor at the moment. Bayek is actually the one to stop Altaïr, telling him that they all grieve differently when they lose the people they love and they should support Achilles, not reprimand him. This angers Altaïr because he knows how dangerous it is to let grief take control and his lingering guilt of how his anger and wish to avenge Sef led to Maria (and maybe Malik if we’re killing Malik off during the Civil War?) and many of his brothers dying. This makes him say words to Bayek about how he does not understand how the death of a child changes someone and Bayek tries to remain calm but Altaïr is blinded by rage that is actually for himself but he directed it to Bayek instead which leads to a… very heated ‘discussion’.

This is the trigger and Edward gets into this, all heated up and emotional, leading to Edward and Mary leaving the gang to find Haytham on their own. Altaïr takes Desmond away (who follows him willingly) in the heat of the moment and Ezio goes with them to calm Altaïr down (and because he goes wherever Desmond goes)

Kassandra tells Alexios and Eivor that she’s going to follow Edward and Mary and asks Alexios to stay with Bayek and support him as much as he can while Eivor suggests she follows Altaïr and the others to assist Ezio.

We Interrupt the Desmond’s Ancestors Part for Shay Cormac:

Anyway, Lisbon still happens and, it is by chance, that Bayek and Alexios are away from the Homestead when Shay returns and everyone becomes idiots who don’t know what the word COMMUNICATE means. Or… is it a coincidence or the hands of the calculations at play?

Oh and Hope is actually not in the homestead right now because she’s ‘monitoring’ Altaïr and the others who had taken ‘residence’ in New York. Ezio is working with her to make sure the gangs do not do anything dumb while Altaïr and Desmond busy themselves with the Grand Temple because… well, they weren’t any close to finding the singularity point so might as well prepare for the catastrophe they know of anyway.

We now return to Desmond’s Ancestors (Part 5 Ratonhnhaké:ton)

Eivor stays with Altaïr and Desmond and she gets to know the descendants of the people who had helped her when she had been in.

At this point, Ratonhnhaké:ton has been born and likes to watch them and, when he got a bit older, became bold enough to approach Desmond who was always smiling and waving at him. Altaïr and Ezio realized that this is the Ratonhnhaké:ton Desmond always talk about and, seeing his facial structure, they realized that he has to be related to Edward Kenway in some way. Desmond finally admits the real reason why he had ‘let’ Haytham become a Templar and both Altaïr and Ezio tell him that it’s not his fault. He didn’t even realize how Haytham became a Templar until they heard that Edward had been attacked and that Desmond actually thought Haytham became a Templar out of his own free will. He did everything he could. The Templars had been craftier than he had expected them to be and this was ‘inevitable’.

When Desmond is alone, Juno whispers to his ear that Altaïr and Ezio only spoke sweet words to comfort him. That it truly was Desmond’s fault. ALL of this is Desmond’s fault. Desmond remains quiet the entire time.

So same thing happened, Shay becomes a Templar, Haytham does his thing… this time though, Shay is thwarted by Ezio from killing Hope who keeps telling him they can talk about this. Hope survives but her loyalty to Achilles is shattered because she heard Shay’s side of the story first and she can’t believe it, she doesn’t want to believe it but she knew that Shay isn’t the type to lie about such things.

Edward and Mary stop Haytham and Shay from killing Adéwalé but Haytham won’t listen to Edward, calling him an abomination. During the final fight with Achilles, Liam and Shay, Liam sacrifices himself to save Achilles and tried to take Shay with him. He does succeed and Shay died together with Liam.

Only to be revived next to Liam’s dead body. The fact that he has become an immortal, an abomination as Haytham likes to call them, shakes Shay up so severely that he leaves and hides.

It’s… not really a victory as Achilles is left with a limp and Hope is the only person left of his Assassins. Achilles officially retires and Hope takes over as the mentor with both Ezio and Bayek supporting her. Adéwalé stays for a while to help Edward try to find Haytham once more but is soon called away for a more pressing Assassin-related matter.

Things change though because Eivor realized that Ratonhnhaké:ton is Haytham’s son after one of the villagers tells about how a white man had come before them and had been quite close to Kaniehtí:io. Altaïr and Ezio don’t tell Eivor they already knew and they talked about how to tell Edward about it. Desmond asks if they should even tell Edward about this, surprising Eivor. Desmond believes Kaniehtí:io should have the final say if she wants her son to know his grandfather because… well… there has to be a reason why she didn’t stay with Haytham, right? And Edward loves his son too much to not tell him about Ratonhnhaké:ton.

Everything is becoming super complicated now because, yeah, Kaniehtí:io didn’t want anyone to know that Haytham Kenway is Ratonhnhaké:ton’s father and she even threatens to cut their tongue if they tell Haytham about her son. Desmond is totally on her side about this and Eivor agrees because it’s her son. She does warn that Ratonhnhaké:ton deserves to know who his father is. Desmond countered that sometimes having no father is a better alternative than knowing your real father.

Anyway, because Eivor, Altaïr, Ezio and Desmond were nearby, the village didn’t burn but that doesn’t stop the start of the American Revolutions.

This time, though, Ratonhnhaké:ton joins Desmond and the others when they decided to return to the homestead to check up on the others and plan what they can do because his mother finally told him the truth about Haytham Kenway and he wants to meet his father himself. Ratonhnhaké:ton gets trained by Desmond and the others in the ways of the Assassins as they travel back to the Davenport homestead.

Hope is still the mentor and Bayek and Altaïr finally bury the hatchet. Kassandra is keeping them posted on where she and Edward and Mary are and they decide to follow them with Ratonhnhaké:ton joining.

American Revolutions goes more or less the same as canon but, with Charles Lee heavily beaten and almost dying, some things are bound to change. Because the Templars have become more cunning, they secretly played for both sides and George Washington becomes an ally of the Templars without him realizing it or knowing that Charles Lee (one of his main ‘rivals’) was a Templar who didn’t know that Washington was being played by the Templars as well. (It would be funny if, like, Hamilton is a Templar in this one annnnyywwwaaayy)

The Battle of the Chesapeake goes a bit differently but still ends with Ratonhnhaké:ton deciding to kill Haytham Kenway because he realizes that Haytham will forever be loyal to the Templars which means the people he loves will always be in danger as long as he lives. He did meet and got to know Edward so this is also him “doing what needs to be done so grandfather doesn’t have to” kind of deal. This does end with Haytham dying in his hands once more and he leaves Haytham for dead as he tries to kill the remaining Templar (Charles Lee? Hamilton? Idk). Ratonhnhaké:ton dies from his wound after he kills the last Templar and wakes up to see Desmond crying as he held him in his arms.

Ratonhnhaké:ton accepts being an immortal better than everyone expected and he admits that he never thought of being an immortal but now… he realized that a part of him always knew it was going to happen. Something inside him knows this was meant to happen.

They don’t know that Shay had been the one to save Haytham when he died and was revived a minute later. And now both Shay and Haytham have complicated feelings for their immortality but Haytham says that they must use everything in their power for the Templar cause, even if it’s this cursed abomination.

So they go to France to retrieve something from Charles Dorian.

And this time…

Arno Dorian sees Shay Cormac kill his father.

Okay okay so.

Your thoughts on a Time Travel-ish fic where Desmond gets yeeted back to a little bit before Altaïr’s time and Bayek, Kassandra, Alexios, and f!Eivor become basically immortal bc of POE/Isu bullshit?

And then all the main characters after that become immortal bc of POE/Isu bullshit (including Desmond) so they’re just slowly gathering a bunch of immortal Assassin/some Templars and winging it til they hit the modern day era.

If you like to add a vampire spin to it, here’s the vampire idea a while back that does include a lot of main characters (but not all) getting turned into vampires.

Now, for this idea, let’s set up some things first.

Desmond is the primary immortal and nobody knows how it works.

They stop aging once they die and are revived for the first time.

There will always be a minute of death before their revival. (spawn rate)

Since we want to cover all main AC characters (although I love the fact that we didn’t include Basim in that list. Mirage isn’t out yet, Basim doesn’t count yet, I guess XD), I know you asked for Desmond being yeeted a little before Altaïr’s time so I’m hope you’re fine with Desmond being yeeted before or during Kassandra and Alexios’ time period. (I mean how 'little' is open for interpretations I say)

And how about we make this a little bit more interesting?

Desmond gets yeeted into the time of the Isus. To be more specific, he gets thrown into Minerva’s ‘temple’ during the final days before the Solar Flare.

He’s disoriented and maybe just ‘a bit’ traumatized because of the pain he felt when he activated the device so all he could do was try to understand what Minerva was saying.

About how she’s trying to save his life. That he must do what they all fail to do.

Find the true source of this anomaly, this singularity point that ensures a catastrophe hits Earth every few millennia regardless of what they do.

Because, and this is important, Desmond, even if you save the world from the Solar Flare, another catastrophe will happen. It is inevitable.

But you can find the reason why it has to be that way.

Desmond…

No matter what happens.

Never give up.

Keep looking.

I will do all I can to give you as much help as possible.

Good luck.

And Desmond falls asleep when Minerva pushes him into some kind of device that looked like a water bed.

When he wakes up, he finds himself staring at a confused-looking woman clad in armor.

The Layla Trilogy:

Desmond has no clue what this singularity point is meant to be but he assumes that he’s meant to find it now that he’s woken up… 2 millennia before his time, Jesus Christ.

Kassandra was just looking around the supposed ruins of Athena’s first temple. She believes he’s a demigod or a human turned demigod by Athena. She also thought he might even be Erichthonius but that idea was scrapped when Desmond showed her just how little he knows of the Ancient Greek world. He joins her because it’s not like he has any other clue and Kassandra traveling made it clear that he could cover more grounds if he stayed with her.

It’s because of Desmond’s intervention that Alexios (as Deimos) isn’t killed and the siblings’ relationship is rocky but Alexios stays with them in the Adrestria even if it usually comes down to Kassandra and Desmond making sure Alexios’ temper doesn’t get them into trouble. (Whether the other family members survive is your call).

In the end, it’s the whole Atlantis DLC that makes Kassandra and Alexios accidentally (or is it an accident, Minerva?) immortal. Desmond’s inclusion into the ‘vision’ screwed up the Isu tech and whatever is keeping Desmond immortal is copied into Kassandra and Alexios. They don’t realize it until later on when Alexios dies during a very fierce battle. Then a minute passed while Kassandra cradles her baby brother in her arms as she cries, Alexios opens his eyes and gasps loudly. Kassandra and Desmond would realize they’re immortal as well later on. No matter what they ask, Aletheia in the staff (Desmond doesn’t trust her one bit) doesn’t say anything at all. Desmond believes that their immortality might have been caused by one of the many POEs he had with him at the moment (he’s been hoarding every POE they find).

In this setup, Alexios would be Aya’s ancestor and it’d be more of a one-night stand that happened because Alexios was feeling a bit off that day and wanted some company. Whether they learn Aya is Alexios’ descendant is up to you. They meet Bayek during the Curse of the Pharaoh DLC while they were checking out the ‘curse’ and this is another case of Desmond’s immortality getting passed into Bayek while the POE is shrouding all of Thebes. Maybe even during the time they were in the Duat and Desmond is seeing people who haven’t even been born yet and that’s how he believed his desire to destroy the lies being shown to him caused Bayek to be infected by his immortality. They don’t know Bayek is immortal though but Bayek knows they’re immortal (maybe make one of them die in front of Bayek? They’ve become quite prone to risky actions because they know they can’t die) so when he realized he was immortal, he starts looking for them.

Eivor met them on the Isle of the Skye and Desmond’s immortality infects her during that time as well (maybe during the final confrontation with the POE?) but, as usual, they don’t know that yet. What happens is that Eivor returns to Ravensthorpe and the story continued until the end of AC Valhalla, maybe a few days later, Reda (who may or may not be an avatar of Minerva or her sage or something, the point is his immortality is not connected to Desmond’s… maaayybbee) introduces her to an old friend of his who is looking for someone who looks a lot like Randvi, a man going by the name Amun. At that point, Eivor already knows she’s immortal, Basim slicing her throat during their final confrontation was a dead giveaway, and Reda introduced them as ‘two people of similar circumstances’. They both realized that they’re immortals and Bayek (who Eivor knows as Amun) believes that the answer to their questions is with Desmond and the Spartan siblings (they’re not, they don’t even know they’ve been leaving immortals behind) so Eivor leaves Ravensthorpe to find Desmond and the other with Bayek, promising to come back once she has all the answers.

They finally catch up to Desmond and the others around late 1100s and Desmond doesn’t know how but he’s sure he’s the reason why they’re all immortals now. Without any other information, all they can do is be cautious and, later on, they decide that Desmond shouldn’t get too close to other people until they’re sure on how this entire immortality thing gets activated. Of course, that only means Desmond would feel bored (and maybe have bad reminders of his life on the Farm) so he was just walking a busy marketplace to take some time off his own spiraling thoughts, just looking around and that’s when he bumps into Altaïr.

Desmond’s Ancestors (Part 1):

Desmond didn’t even know Altaïr would be around these parts. Why would he? All he knew during this time was that Altaïr went with Maria to go travel, he didn’t know just how far the two had traveled during that time. Desmond desperately tries to get away because, fuck, there’s no way that he was going to mess up Altaïr’s life even if he desperately wants to because he has no idea what will happen to him if he messes Altaïr’s life so badly that Desmond Miles wouldn’t be born centuries from now. This only makes Altaïr interested in him and it ends with Desmond joining Altaïr and Maria in their travels, sorta forgetting to tell anybody else that he might have been half-kidnapped/half-went along with it?

So the current immortality gang is out looking for him while he’s making a life in Masyaf, becoming like an uncle to Altaïr’s children. Desmond keeps trying to tell Altaïr that Abbas is too dangerous to keep alive but Altaïr won’t listen, thinking that Abbas would not stoop as low as Desmond says, especially when the Apple doesn’t show him anything bad happening with Abbas. By this point, Desmond had told Altaïr everything so Altaïr know Desmond knows of a future but he insists that that future is no longer their future because they have changed things.

Altaïr and Maria still go with Darim to assassinate Genghis Khan but Desmond stays behind to keep an eye on Abbas. Unfortunately, this gets him captured and it’s only because of Desmond’s warning that Malik survived, taking Sef’s wife and children out of Masyaf on Sef’s orders while Sef stays behind to save Desmond. It ends in tragedy as Sef dies in Desmond’s arms instead even though Desmond begs for whatever is keeping him immortal to save Sef, to make him immortal as well. Desmond is taken deeper into Masyaf and tested on to find the reason for his immortality instead.

Altaïr’s return is heralded by a civil war between those who sided with Abbas and the Assassins Malik rallied. In the battle, Maria dies in Altaïr’s arms as well and, if you really want to hammer in the pain, Malik falls as well. When they finally took Masyaf back, Altaïr finds Desmond in the deepest part of Masyaf alive but… well… it’s not a pretty sight. Just as he frees a catatonic Desmond, Abbas stabs him from behind and Desmond snaps out of it, screaming as Altaïr falls into his arms. Remembering how Sef dies in his arms the same way breaks Desmond. Altaïr dies in his arms and revives a minute later, much to Abbas’ surprise. In the end, Altaïr kills Abbas and takes Masyaf back.

After the funerals are done and Masyaf starts healing, Altaïr tells the new mentor (Malik if he’s still alive or Darim if Malik is already dead) that he and Desmond are leaving Masyaf. That this place is simply too painful for Desmond right now and the only way he can heal is to be away from this place. The mentor agrees because they both know how much Desmond blames himself for the death of the people he and Altaïr loved. That not even Altaïr telling him it’s not his fault could reach him.

So they leave and a few days later the immortality gang reaches Masyaf but everyone is tight-lipped about what happened and if they know anyone that looks like Desmond (there were rumors that the people of Masyaf were experimenting on how to achieve eternal life and such). So it took them a long time for the mentor to confide what had happened (that’s fine with them though because they trust Desmond can take care of himself (oh boy) and they’re immortals, they have all the time they need) and the mentor isn’t sure where Desmond and Altaïr could be.

They’re in Monteriggioni. Of course, they’re in Monteriggioni. Desmond talked and showed Monteriggioni to Altaïr and his sons so Altaïr knew how much Desmond loved the town. They stayed there because Altaïr was hoping Desmond could heal there and Altaïr accidentally sorta-maybe bought the place while it was just a little thing and started expanding and stuff. They’re always known as descendants of themselves and they’re rumored to be brothers or cousins or something, anyway, the point is the town’s connection with the Assassins is a very hush-hush affair and the Italian Brotherhood grows with Altaïr’s assistance while Desmond just… does whatever he wants.

Desmond meets Ezio as a child when the Auditore family visits the town to pay their respect and Altaïr sees how happy Desmond is to play with Ezio and his siblings. He suggests that they vacation in Florence once in a while to visit the Auditores and Desmond agrees.

The Auditore execution doesn’t happen because Altaïr’s presence makes the Italian Brotherhood be more incognito. Giovanni is still loyal to Lorenzo (an ongoing headache of Altaïr’s) and he’s the mentor of the Italian Brotherhood while Altaïr has more of an advisory role but his connection to the other Assassins was great enough that he was able to coordinate a rescue mission when Giovanni was arrested. Federico and Claudia (who learned enough to fight in secret thanks to her Tio Desmond) were in the house and they got the others out while Giovanni stayed behind so he was the only one arrested and the Auditore family is given asylum in Monteriggioni.

Of course, the whole rescue plan had been in the making for a while now as a ‘last resort’ since Desmond told Altaïr what would happen and this pushes Ezio, Federico, and Claudia to join the Brotherhood in hopes of avenging what has happened to them.

Same thing happened as canon. The actions of the Italian Brotherhood (really, Ezio and his siblings) catch the attention of the immortality gang who finally catches up but they accidentally thought Ezio was the immortal with Desmond named Altaïr and that’s how Ezio learns about the whole immortality thing.

Ezio finds out he’s immortal after Rodrigo stabs him and he dies but revives. He believes his other siblings aren’t immortal though because he saw Minerva’s message for Desmond and it’s already changed. She’s speaking to Ezio and she tells him to “keep Desmond in check”. To make sure he remembers his mission. Ezio believes it’s not Desmond who gives immortality to random people but Minerva. That this immortality thing is something Minerva prepared to keep Desmond ‘safe’ and ‘focused’.

Desmond would have easily said that Minerva is going by a list of people Desmond cared about but he didn’t even know about Kassandra, Alexios, Bayek and Eivor before his death so that idea gets thrown out before it even fully forms.

Anyway, it ends with the immortality gang going on a newly refitted and upgraded Adrestia to start looking for this singularity point with Altaïr giving Monteriggioni to Petruccio who had been taking care of the finances and the little details for a while now. They stop by Constantinople as well and Ezio falls in love with Sofia, maybe he stays with her for a while and have two children? Idk. Anyway, the Auditore line continues…

Into the Kenway line…

Yeah, see that part one? Yeah, it’s because this got too long and I only answer/reblog on tumblr on a specific time frame to make sure I get things done. Sorry XD

I’ll get back to the others tomorrow (if work wills it) but if anyone wants to take a stab at this, feel free :)

(ngl, I was debating if I should make Malik/Maria/Darim and Sef immortal. I’m still on the fence with Malik being immortal. It would be a good angst fodder “Why you but not them?!!” kind of deal)

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Not Like The Stereotype (Felix Volturi x Witch!Reader)

Felix took you for a walk in the gardens, your arm hooked in his his hand covering your own. You were enjoying the breeze and just being so close to nature. The gardens were beautiful. Felix told you the wives were the ones who created it. Sulpicia, Athenodora and Didyme. Although Didyme was no longer alive. 

Marcus caught your eye as well as Felix's. You both approached him, letting go of one another. "Master?" Felix asked. He looked over at the two of you with an empty expression. "Hello, Felix. Hello, (Y/N)." Marcus drawled. You smiled at him gently. "Hello, sir. Is everything alright?" Marcus hummed looking at the flower before him, it was very much on its last legs. It had even been potted for separate attention. "All is well." He didn't sound convincing in the slightest. 

Felix inhaled sharply when he saw the flower. "Master, I'm sorry." "It's alright, Felix. It's only a flower." You looked between the two men in confusion. Marcus nodded to Felix, allowing him to explain. "This type of flower was Didyme's favourite. They've become exceptionally rare and...this is one of the last." You frowned slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry." You didn't know what else to say. 

A thought suddenly came to mind. "Sir, might I see it?" You moved to Marcus side, kneeling on the path. Marcus said nothing but moved the plant towards you. You took it gently, looking at it, running your thumb across a leaf, being extra careful. 

A soft glittering gold travelled from under your thumb and thought the veins of the leaf. The liquid gold travelled through the stem to the other leaves and into the flower head. The two men couldn't believe their eyes as the planet began to revive itself, the browns fading back to the plants original colour.  When you took your hand away, it looked stronger than it had ever been. You smiled before moving it back to him. "There. I can't guarantee it'll be an immortal plant but... it'll be around for a good number of years yet." 

Marcus looked down at the fully revived plant in awe. "Remarkable..." He mumbled. You rose to a stand, taking hold of Felix's shoulder, ignoring Felix's dumbstruck expression. "I didn't know you could do that." Felix spoke. You lightly shrugged. "Its not much." "It's amazing!" Felix gawked. "Thank you, (Y/N). This was very kind of you." Marcus turned to you with a grateful expression. You nodded. "I'm happy to help sir." You assured him. 

Of course, Felix had to tell Demetri and in turn, the twins found out just by being in the same room. The four wanting answers but not entirely sure how to go about asking.  "It's just...you seem so normal. So human." Jane mumbled with unease. Before her was the very thing that she was accused of and the cost being her death. She remembered thinking they were ridiculous to think she and her twin were witches. 'Look at us!' She'd yell. 'Really, look at us! Do we look like witches to you!?' Whilst she never said the words, she always thought them and before her was her answer. A witch looked like everyone else. "I thought we'd know. A characteristic, a facial feature, something that would make it obvious." Jane said mostly to herself. You stifled a laugh. "You're laughing." Jane narrowed her eyes on you. "What's so funny?" "What? You don't find Vampires being allergic to garlic funny? What about burning in the sun?" Jane's fierce gaze faltered. "Exactly." You responded. "Sure, we don't have unnatural eye colours nor are we cold to the touch but..." You shrugged. "We exist. We're human in the end. We just see the world a little differently. Someone us can do little tricks too. Nothing to worry about." Felix was quick to appease to Jane, showing some compassion considering he knew Jane's past. "I wouldn't worry about it, Jane." Felix said to her. "I expected to see pentagrams, candles and (Y/N) awake at all hours of the nights preforming rituals when I found out." You scoffed."You make it sound like I'm in a cult. I can assure you I'm usually asleep at three in the morning." You paused. "We aren't devil worshipers either. You'll find most of us are actually peaceful." You said pointedly to Felix, unaware of your words easing Jane's mind. "You don't...strike us as a witch." Alec said as he looked you up and down. You wore regular modern clothes and we're nothing like the stereotype. You furrowed your brow, looking at the counter in front of you before returning your gaze to the twins, raising an eyebrow. "Did you expect a cauldron?" You asked in a tone that they weren't so sure if you were joking or genuinely asking. "No..." Jane answered. Felix looked at how awkward the exchange was and in all honesty. I might kill him if it went on. Although he couldn't blame the twins. He wasn't so sure how to go about it either. "What they're meaning is..." Felix trailed off. Your eyes wandered over Felix, the twins and Demetri as you waiting for someone to say something. "Um..." Felix had lost just about all of his vocabulary. You hummed suddenly in thought. "Hm, where did I put them?" "Put what?" Felix asked. "The pliers so I can let the words out of your mouth!" You responded with a smile. "Well it's just that, witches aren't exactly common in our world- you're the first." You sighed. "You're going from A to B and somehow you've decided to take the scenic route by going A-Z-Y-X-W-" "I'm glad you find us amusing." Demetri said flatly. "You can ask me anything. I won't be offended!" You responded. "I will try my best to answer. I don't know everything. I can tell you that I'm not green nor will I melt if you throw water on me." "You have a gift? We saw you revive that plant in seconds. Do all witches have that?" Jane asked bluntly. You shook your head with a smile. "No, that's a family thing. Some witches have abilities or connections you could say. Some can contact the dead, manipulate fire and my family...witches in my family can heal as well cause harm." You continued. "Not every generation is a witch, but I have an ancestor who could do it with her eyes alone. Whilst the gift has passed down, I can only do it with my hands." "So things like...curses and hexes. Could you do them? Are the real?" Alec asked. "I'm not the type to use dark magic like that. It's like poking a bear." You said with slight unease as though picturing just what Alec was talking about in your mind. You suddenly shook away the thought with a smile. "Well I don't have hexes or voodoo, can I interest you in some crystals?" 

That night, you felt strong arms wind around your middle and a kiss be placed behind your ear. "Hey." You whispered with a smile, leaning back into the hold. "You don't know how important your words were for the twins but I promise you. It was huge." Felix said quietly with pride. "I'm sure you'll tell me one day." You smiled, raising his hand from your middle to press a kiss on the back of Felix's hand. Felix hummed, burying his face into your neck. "You're taking too long." Felix whispered. "Hm?" Your brow furrowed slightly. "If you could turn around some time soon that would be wonderful so that I can kiss you." Felix responded and you couldn't help but chuckle. 

You turned around as he bent down slightly to kiss you. As you broke the kiss, Felix planted another kiss to your forehead. "I love you. You're wonderful." "Don't sweet-talk me, you've already got me." You grinned in response.

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Jason Todd was raised on the streets, in Gotham’s filth, but the blood that was running through his veins was everything but. Jason was the last of a line of gruesome, death stained mages, necromancers who dealt in souls and flickering images of immortality. Jason was a fifteen-year-old boy who crawled out of his grave, weeks after he died, reanimated by powers he couldn’t understand or control, and struggled to feel alive even when his father was holding onto him.

AN: I finally get to post my @batfam-big-bang fanfic! I My lovely beta readers for this wonderful project were @nycis and @queerbutstillhere while my amazing artists were @darkmagyk and @paperedking and @zannakai. Check out their stunning pieces!!!

Read on AO3

I had a night I had a day I did one million stupid things I said one billion foolish things I'm not okay

If there are two emotions Jason knows well, they are  fear and anger. Both had accompanied him since his earliest childhood memories. His father’s shouting had been a constant source of anger and fear. His loud voice had forced Jason to hide beneath the table, his bed, the closet, all spaces he had falsely assumed would be too small for his father to reach. With bated breath he had waited for the screeching to stop until only his mother’s soft sobs had echoed through the rooms. Those too had angered Jason. He didn’t know whether it was on her behalf, because he had hated his father so much for causing her any pain, or because that anger had been for himself, the poor child whose mother wasn’t strong enough to leave her piece of shit husband.

On the streets, anger had kept him warm at night and fear had ensured he stayed alive. He had marveled at the shiny tires of the Batmobile, but even then, deep down, he had been so incredibly angry. He was going hungry while another drove a car like that. He had ignored his fear then and stolen the tires regardless.

It had been the best decision of his life.

So now, when once again  he was stuck between fear and anger, he chose to dismiss his fear and lash out instead.

“You can’t be serious!” Jason hissed, throwing up his arms.

Rage boiled beneath his skin like an active volcano. It infected his voice, his stance. He rose to his full height, making him the tallest in the room, but none of his siblings even blinked at it. They were too used to such simpleminded intimidation tactics, employed similar ones in front of villains who thought they could get the better of them.

“This is the right way,” Dick said, his voice strained with finality, a kind of authority he had no right to evoke.

He was not their leader, and he sure as hell was not their father. Dick barely understood what Jason was capable of and when he did, was too scared of it. The others didn’t see it, but Jason knew a coward when he saw one. Dick always tip-toed around Jason’s room like he expected the undead to crawl right out of it and drag him into a bloody casket. Beyond that, he also always took the patrol routes far away from Jason’s apartment complex and city district. Jason didn’t mind, he preferred it when the others kept their noses out of the Narrows and Crime Alley. His people didn’t particularly enjoy it either when the other bats and birds came around to play there as they tended to mess with the wards and ask uncomfortable questions. Jason understood too well how unsettling his presence could be and therefore knew very well that Dick had no room to make such decisions or judge Jason for them.

“The right way,” Jason repeated. “Do you even hear yourself? If everything was right, Bruce would still be here!”

Tim and Steph both winced when Jason said his name and even Dick’s face fell. They all didn’t understand it. Death was so final to them instead of just another state of being, one that Jason could reverse.

“I can bring him back,” Jason continued, desperation seeping into his voice. “Everything will be alright again. It’s all in these books. I just need your help.”

Why couldn’t his siblings just understand that he would fix it and then everything would go back to being the way it was before Darkseid had torn their lives to shreds. The Cave had become messy since Bruce’s death. It had been barely a month ago but it already showed despite best efforts. Jason had dragged all his books here to study and take notes, the constant hum of the technology as much a motivational hymn as it was a lullaby. His notes now were spread out all across the table, proudly displaying the work Dick was disregarding so very easily.

Dick only stubbornly shook his head. “No, Bruce wouldn’t want that.”

This wasn’t about what Bruce wanted, he was dead. This was simply about deciding how they were going to fix it.

“You don’t know that,” Jason countered. “It’s not like he wrote it in his will.”

Dick let out a low breath and dragged his hands through his hair as if Jason were causing him a headache. They had attended the reading of the will just hours before. Alfred had made sure they had all dressed up in proper suits the way they had for the closed casket funeral because there hadn’t been a body to recover. It would make it all more difficult to bring Bruce back without his original body to tie his soul too, but Jason was confident that he would be able to pull it off. Jason had only listened half-heartedly to the reading of the will. He knew its contents by heart, they all did. Every hero had a will set up and about ten proxies who knew every word and could recite it in case their death had been unnatural.

Alfred had been given custody over Damian while Tim had been emancipated. The Wayne fortune had been split five ways between Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, and Damian while Steph and Barbara both got a huge stipend. It was all for nothing, Bruce would be back. Cass knew it as well, or so Jason hoped. She hadn’t even bothered to show for the funeral but had left the city the night before. Jason wished she had stayed, she would support him.

Instead, Jason had to make everyone else listen to him.

Tim was still straight up in denial and didn’t believe that Bruce was dead. His parents had died around the same time, just two years earlier. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to handle it and escape into his delusions instead. Steph, for all that she was a part of the team and family, Jason’s closest confidant out of all of them, had chosen to stay neutral while Dick protested vehemently.

Damian, meanwhile, just thought that Jason wouldn’t be able to pull it off, but that could be blamed on his superiority complex. While the kid, a perfect mix of Talia and Bruce, could imitate Bruce’s accent and body language as well as he wanted to, he still reeked of al Ghul arrogance and the Lazarus pit’s side effects. It was a foul stench, poisonous, and foreign to this world. It had hurt Bruce when Jason had told him what exactly was keeping Damian’s heart beating, but there was nothing that could be done about it. It wasn’t like anybody else besides Jason actually noticed.

“Had he wanted to, we would know,” Dick said.

“But-“

“Jason, stop.” Dick’s order, his tone couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a bark, was harsh. “Bruce is dead and he will stay dead. You will not experiment on his soul just because you think you can bring him back.”

“I don’t think so, I know so,” Jason argued. “You’re just incapable of trusting me! You still think I’m a foolish kid who is just playing around with powers he doesn’t understand!”

His voice rose with every shouted word. It had always been like this. Dick thinking that Jason was crossing too many lines, wasn’t good enough to be Robin or anything. Hell, he had accepted Tim more readily as Robin than he ever had Jason.

“Jason-“ Tim tried to speak up, but was harshly cut off by Dick.

Trust big brother to always know best.

“Because you are!” Dick shouted back. It hurt, cut into flesh like sharp knives, but at the same time it was liberating. Finally, Dick was actually speaking his mind. Honesty, so Jason had learned, was the only way to keep moving forward. They all lied, it was a part of their training, came as natural as breathing, but there was a line you had to be aware of.

“Bruce is dead and you can’t let go. Instead of helping me figure out how to keep Gotham running, you run off and bury your head in old books to find a solution to a problem that isn’t there! He’s gone. I needed you on patrol tonight and you didn’t show.”

Patrol had been just fine, Dick hadn’t needed him. Jason had kept an eye on the comms, they had done as good as they could with three men down. It hadn’t even been a busy night.

“You’re just giving up!”

“And you’re delusional!” Dick retorted.

He picked up one of the pages the closest to him. The originally white paper was covered by ink stains, diagrams smeared uncaringly all over it while Jason had been trying to figure out what exactly his ancestors had gotten up to when they tried to raise the dead.

“This is too much, Jason. You’re only setting yourself up for my failure. I let you keep researching because I thought it would help, but it’s only hurting you. You have to let go.”

“And leave?” Jason spat out. “Like you always do the moment something goes wrong with Bruce?”

Dick froze. His annoyance and misguided worry slowly twisted into dark anger. At that moment, it just felt right. Dick had ceased pretending that he was so much better than them, that he wasn’t struggling without Bruce around. Jason loathed how he sat at breakfast every day, acting as if it was all still alright and fine, smiling and lying continuously.

“I-“ Dick interrupted himself, reigning in his anger as everybody else watched him with keen eyes. “No, no, I’m not having this discussion with you. None of us are on board with your reckless endeavor, so you’re not doing it and that’s final.”

Jason turned to look at the rest of his family, but they were all averting their eyes. Of course, they would all side with Dick over him. He was older, more experienced, the first Robin out of all of them.

He wasn’t the resurrected boy who talked to ghosts and turned living beings to worthless decay with nothing more than a touch.

“I see,” Jason replied and grabbed his jacket from the chair.

Fine, it wasn’t like he needed any of them anyway. It would have been easier with more living anchors, but Batman had left his mark all over the city. Gotham was his, even the magic that buried itself so far underground that hardly anybody could see it knew who it belonged to. Jason had plenty of anchors he could use to bring Bruce back. What were five children compared to an entire city?

“Where are you going?” Tim spoke up. He had barely said a word since Jason and Dick had started fighting, but Jason supposed that it made sense given that Tim thought both of them were wrong.

“Away from here,” Jason replied. “Since Dick is so keen on running this show himself, he can do it. I’m out.”

“What?” Steph asked. “Wait! Jason, no, you have to stay!”

“What I need to do is fix this.”

Jason picked his backpack up from the ground and started stuffing his papers into it. He didn’t particularly care in which order he did it, he would have to sort through them all anyway once he was back in his apartment. He needed to toss those that were trash and copy the calculations and incantations that actually made sense and seemed like they were a good first step onto fresh sheets. Maybe he should get actual parchment. He didn’t usually work with dead writing materials, but with whatever he had on hand. His spells were powerful enough without, but he couldn’t afford any mistakes here.

Once he was finished, he threw his backpack over his shoulder and headed towards his bike, not sparing the group behind him another glance.

“Jason,” Dick started once more.

Jason just threw his hands up, dismissing him.

“Don’t worry, Richard,” he said. “It’s not like I can stay dead for long if something goes wrong. Don’t bother contacting me. I’ll come back once I’m finished.”

He couldn’t see his older brother’s reaction, but Jason would bet that he had flinched. They all hated to be reminded of Jason’s death, but it wasn’t like Jason could erase that part of him.

Jason put on his bright red helmet and turned on his bike. Then, without looking back, he drove off, disappearing into the dawn of a new day.

[volturicangetit]

D.V- Mates 1/2

Summary: The reader is a human friend of the Cullens who gets taken by the volturi because they’re Demitri’s mate. 

Warnings: reader getting turned, swearing

wordcount: 1562

MASTERLIST

Why did Bella have to be such a dumb ass? You were really contemplating every choice you ever made that lead up to this point. Here you are, running after your love crazy friend, trough the herds of locals trying to celebrate their festival. You try to look behind you every so often to see if you can find Alice, knowing that she is probably taking some back allay's to stay out of the sun. But part of you still hopes that she'll come sprinting up to you to help with your lunatic friend. The fan really hit the shit when you saw Edward stepping out of the building. You know about what they are, which wasn't so hard to find out since Jacob told you the weird folktale stories and Edward can't stop talking about how his soul is damned.

" Edward! " You can hear Bella yell as she struts through the fountain. You take an easier route and just simply walk around it. Bella quickly pushes Edward inside the castle again to keep him out of the sun. You try to push your way through the people and towards the castle, to no avail however since the mass of people just pushes you in the opposite direction. That's when you feel a cold hand wrap itself around your arm and pulling you out of the mass of people. It all happens so fast and in such a blur that you can't even see who it is.

It's only when you are being pushed through the doors of the castle that you look behind you. A man with dirty blond, spiky hair is holding your arm. He's wearing a cape and a cold chain with a prominent V hanging from it make you quickly realize that he is one of them. You would think that with those clothes someone would realize that they aren't from this time. You quickly spot Bella, clinging to Edward's arm as a tall man, that has some resemblance of a bear, glares daggers at them. Alice stand next to them clutching her shawl.

" Y/n... " Bella says. You give her a quick nod to signal her that all is okay. The man who brought you here lets go of your arm and takes his place next to the tall man. " Demitri, we can leave them out of this. " Edward says. The man, Demitri, shakes his head. " They know about us. I think master Aro would like to meet them as well," he says with a smooth British accent.

Nobody who is referred to as ' master ' is to be trusted. That theory proved itself when you found yourself standing in front of Aro. Slik, raven hair is pushed behind his ears as his red eyes stare at you. " Two...humans," he says as he walks over to Bella. He slides his hand over her cheek. " Ah, young Bella. ". He drags out his vowels a bit. Everything about him makes you want to throw up. Every warning sign in your body is going off. Get out of here! Run! Get out!

But you can't just run out of a castle full of vampires, especially not one with the rulers of the vampires in it. ' And Y/n. Oh, how immortality would suit you. ". His fingertips run over your neck, stopping for a second right on top of your artery. You want to push his hand off you. You want to scream at him to keep his hands to himself but you're smarter than that. You want to make it out of this room alive and not end up as vampire dinner.

Aro finally gets if hands of you. You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding in. " We do hope that Bella will get turned soon. But we can't say the same about Y/n. ". Aro says as he walks back towards his throne and sits down in it. fear runs through your body. You were deadmeat. You're going to die. Probably by the fangs of on Demitri, or that blond girl or anyone in this room. " I'm sorry? " Alice says. Fear laces her voice taking a couple of steps forward.

" We can hardly allow you to stay friends with one human. Definitely not two. " the blond king, who you learned was named Carius, says. " They'll stay. ". It all goes quick. A tall, brunette man picks you up with ease. Edward runs towards you but gets stop when he falls to the floor screaming. The blond girl's eyes are locked on him as she mutters out ' pain '. The doors open and close quickly as the man carries you out of the throne room.

" Let me go! " you scream as you claw at his arms. You flail your legs to try and wiggle out of his grasp, but his cold arms are not letting you go anytime soon. “ Let me go your fucking mosquito! “

Two months, three days and sixteen hours. That's how long the Volturi has kept you in the castle. You still don't know why they kept you, or why they kept you alive. You have started to become friends with some of the vampires in the castle. Mostly with the higher guards. They had some respect for you, even though you didn't know why. You had gotten close to Demitri in particular. He would spend his night in your room since he didn't sleep anyway. You were too afraid of him to object to it. And somewhere, deep down, you found some comfort in it as well.

" Umano? " Demitri's voice rings from behind your door. He doesn't wait for your invitation as he walks into your room. " There you are. ". You're propped up against some pillows on a small couch Aro was kind enough to place in your room, right in front of the fireplace. Sure, the summers felt like heaven but it got wickedly cold in the winters. Demitri stands in front of you, towering over you as you look up at him. He immediately felt a wave of calmness wash over him. You could always make him relax, which why he liked hanging out with you so much. " I'm sorry to interrupt your reading but the masters want to have a talk with you. ". Normally, his soft British accent calmed you down but now, it fills your body with fear. You place the book you were reading down with shaky hands and let him help you stand up. He guides you towards the throne room even though you know the castle from heart by now. The dark oak doors are open for you as you walk into the room, Demitri close at your side.

" Y/n! How glad we are that you could join us. " Aro says as he stands up from his throne and clasps his hands together. In front of him stand Jane, Alec and Felix. Demitri quickly walks over to them to join them. " We have some important news to share. ". The moment you are within arms reach of Aro, he grabs your hand and wraps his own around it. You're used to it by now, the constant mind reading. It was like he had an insecurity. Like he needed constant confinement that you didn't have any bad thoughts about him. " It looks like Demitri found his mate. " Marcus mutters out as he continues to stare blankly at the wall. " Mate? " you ask. Mates sound more like a thing that werewolves or dogs would have.

" The second half that completes his soul. " Aro explains. " Every person has one, the bond gets stronger with vampires, however. You make him feel whole. You give him purpose. ". Demitri keeps his eyes cast on you, not daring to say a word. He knew that the masters would find out. He tried his hardest to keep it a secret but that has proven to be hard when Marcus could see the bonds.

" I-Is it romantic? Because Demitri you're great, but I don't- I don't see you like that," you say as you look at him apologetically. Aro quickly interrupts you. ' Not necessarily. Platonic mates are also very common. Just having you in his life makes him feel whole again. ". He walks circles around you before he grabs your hand and lifts it up to his ear, listening to your heartbeat. Another habit that all the residents of the castle fell into. " Which is why we need to change you. You understand that, don't you, young Y/n? ". You nod. You knew this day would come. You would either get turned or killed, neither of which were preferable to you. Before you could say anything, Aro's teeth sink into your skin. White, hot pain seers through your body as you can feel the venom seeping in. Your vision starts to go black as the world moves in slow motion. The last thing you can see is Demitri running towards you with panic in his eyes.

TWILIGHT TAGS:

@scuzmunkie @thanossexual @kpopgirlbtssvt

[kurisus]

Chapter 88-2 thoughts

I’m writing this at 6 AM because I CAN’T SLEEP WOO. As mentioned in my snaps, I first read this chapter while in a work call so I’m rereading it now to be able to focus a bit better. Buckle up, this will be long. Spoilers as always.

So Yukine was not necessarily snuggling with the wolves. He was asking them to eat him. I think in all the other bad stuff happening this chapter this detail got overlooked slightly but it’s bad!!!!

Who was the shadow we saw approaching him when he was with the wolves?? Was it trash dad after all? I think it has to be.

really don’t appreciate the Suzuha mention in THE YEAR OF OUR LORD TWO THOUSAND AND TWENTY

Yukine was such a caring brother it makes my heart hurt. Yukine in general makes my heart hurt. How did it end up happening that his mom just left him behind??

so if Fujisaki is telling the truth, we now know the context of Yukine’s death. And somehow, I think this is the most unpleasant revelation to come out of this chapter. Big statement, I know, but it explains...a lot.

Yukine was writing letters to his sister in secret for probably years, and as soon as his dad found out...well, we know the rest. I remember speculating (and a few others did too) why Yukine was barefoot and not struggling in that panel a couple chapters back that showed his final moments. So if he was already beaten enough to warrant hospitalization, that would explain why he wasn’t reacting the way he should have been.

At this point, if trash dad WAS telling the truth, I’d be fine if they didn’t show the actual scene of his death and just left it at that. Which means...we now know everything about Yukine’s time when he was alive. And of course there’s a lot we can say to fill out the gaps, but we have all the most important details. Finding out exactly how he died was the last piece in the puzzle. Aside from his full first name, that is.

Yukine yelling at trash dad to shut up and him continuing on anyway :) we really needed to know his final thoughts were “why?” :) I hate it here :)

I really hate even talking about this, this shit is FUCKED

okay so as far as trash dad is aware, Yukine’s body was still in the fridge. Meaning he had no idea that Yato went to dig it up all those months ago. Meaning Nora never breathed a word about it to him. I don’t really know how to express my feelings on this but thank you Nora. we owe you one. I have a feeling trash dad’s intent was not to give him a proper burial (since he’s all about false shows of kindness), though as to what it was, I cannot say.

I think at this point it’s pretty clear that Yato is the one who gave him a proper burial. When the panel of the empty refrigerator dropped a few months back, the fact that the body was missing struck me as just odd, and I thought maybe Yukine’s dad dug it back up for some sort of weird ritual, but judging by what we know now, that doesn’t seem likely. As soon as people started saying Yato buried him I was smacking my face like “of COURSE that’s what happened duh”

so trash dad is confirmed to drop his body in a very similar way to Hiyori, and we also confirmed that the version of him in the black robe is his spirit form. Nora mentioned his “body” a while back but now we finally got to see it. Is he a half ayakashi?? Is this just something he can do because he’s possessing Fujisaki’s body??? gah Adachitoka I want ANSWERS

Hagusa’s vessel name is just a double whammy. It’s like a horrible inversion of the fact that Yato named Kazuma Kazune. “Kazune” has the double meaning of referring to their time limit as well as being the “Kazu” Yato was already familiar with. With Hagusa, that name refers to a type of grain that looks like rice...in other words, something that appears valuable but is worthless. And now we see the vessel name is Yuuki? Adachitoka galaxy brained to punch me in the face.

SO THE REASON YUKINE DOESN’T HAVE A CELL PHONE IS BECAUSE HE DIED BEFORE THEY WERE INVENTED???? I always thought it was because he didn’t need one since Yato, Hiyori, Kazuma, and Kofuku were really the only people he needed to communicate with. but he seemed really excited to use trash dad’s. I’m in pain.

I’m thinking back to when Hiyori almost asked Yukine how he died way back in the beginning of the manga and trash dad now telling Yukine “Hiyori never wanted to know? I bet she did, since humans always want to pry into other people’s business” you shut your mouth

Speaking of Hiyori all we got of her this chapter was her looking pissed off. When she arrives to the fight I just want her to fuck shit up. She may not have her half ayakashi form but she can still snap trash dad’s neck in half.

Perhaps the reason Yukine didn’t find any news articles about himself was because “Haru” was just a nickname. I find it hard to believe that there was nothing about him going missing, especially since his dad made a fuss with putting up missing person flyers everywhere. There’s no way the police wouldn’t have gotten involved, right?

Either way it doesn’t really matter--his dad never got charged with anything even if he was a suspect, and no one else cared enough to look either.

this is so many levels of fucked

“So even now my father is still killing me” this line. THIS LINE. THIS FUCKING LINE. It’s such a succinct and excellent summary of Yukine as a character--as much as we love our son, the fact remains that he is dead. And he is dead because of his father’s abuse and society’s neglect. So no matter however much he grows and changes in the afterlife, it cannot change that his life was cut short far too soon, and everything good that happens to him is overshadowed by the fact that it’s indirectly because of his nasty father. And he got away with it. I can’t.

Before this chapter came out I speculated we’d want to strangle Yukine’s dad even more than we already did. and I was right. but holy shit this line was a kick in the gut while I’m still recovering from “that boy loved people”

Yukine loved people too....he loved people and they turned their backs on him BUT HE NEVER GAVE UP ON LOVING!!! IT JUST TOOK A DIFFERENT SHAPE. FUCK.

So Father knows someone visited the fridge. I wonder if he’s figured out that it was Hiyori yet. I just want her to snap him like a twig. it’s what he deserves.

Father also doesn’t care about Yukine, like, at all (we been knew), to the point he couldn’t even realize the only blond character in this fucking manga now has black hair. MAN. that just says a lot about him, huh.

Are we going to find out whether one of his parents was foreign?? He and Yuka are both noticeably light-haired and it hasn’t been addressed aside from Yukine’s hair color changing.

The hair color change was the only spoiler I saw before the chapter came out and it’s been haunting me ever since. I thought initially Yukine dyed his hair while trash dad was out, but now I wonder if the dark hair is his vessel form? Fujisaki summoned him before leaving, so I don’t know. He does look like his bird ayakashi form with having clawed hands as well.

I remember seeing speculation that trash dad generally tells the truth. well as of this chapter we know he’s a fucking liar. Hiyori left that flower, and I think it will end up being important in the long run when Yukine realizes that she’s the only human who truly cares about him.

Whether trash dad has been telling the truth about other things remains to be seen. We still don’t know how he got out of Yomi, if that’s really what happened to make him immortal. But this lie about the flower seems to be a white lie. He could have just said he didn’t know. If he so readily lied about this, who’s to say he hasn’t been lying about other things too, you know?

Yukine destroying the fridge would normally make me be like good for her.jpeg but since the context is him with trash dad I actually hate it

Since Yukine is now so eager to meet his dad I can’t shake the feeling that he’s dead. It would be the perfect gut-punch for him to demand why his father killed him, only to find out that he’s dead (and maybe even that YATO did it...which would only add more fuel to the fire....fuck) and never get to resolve his turmoil.

I’ve been on the fence about whether Yukine’s dad is still alive but based on this chapter I’m putting my bets on “he’s dead and Yato killed him back in the early manga because that would cause the most suffering at present and that generally seems to be the route Adachitoka takes.”

Like, yeah, if Yato did it it was to protect Yukine, but that doesn’t matter when he’s already so pissed off at Yato.

Yato only fired on trash dad because he didn’t know that it was Yukine with him. And Yukine is again thinking that Yato is trying to hurt him. This chapter is also a horrible inversion of...was it 83-2? where Yato tried to kill trash dad and Yukine stopped him? Except now this time it’s not because Yukine wants answers, it’s because he’s pissed at Yato and loyal to trash dad.

Yato was also a fool for thinking sniping trash dad from afar would work, especially when it didn’t even work the first time.

So now the thing I’ve been working up to talking about throughout these many, many words: Hagusa’s vessel form is...himself. He is the weapon. This is such a wonderful (and terrible) narrative choice I’m delighted by where it will take us physically and metaphorically, but obviously it hurts. A lot.

Yuuki being himself the weapon that trash dad fights Yato with for what may be their final showdown is such a fitting culmination to his character arc in this section of the story. (when trash dad said he would turn him into a weapon I DIDN’T REALIZE IT WAS LITERAL)

This is also a good choice art-wise because it means even more pain with seeing Yukine physically fighting Yato rather than Yato and trash dad fighting with swords or something.

So Yato met with Yuka before (it was a flashback, as many people pointed out to me after I goofed last month lmao) but whether that was earlier today or further in the past remains to be seen. I hope he told her to get out because it seems like trash dad is heading into her house while Yato and Yukine face off.

well. “face off” is maybe an exaggeration. Yato will not be able to fight Yukine at all and I’m anticipating he gets the shit kicked out of him, again, while he tries to make him see reason. bro. I hate this. I really, really hate this. This final fight is going all the ways I knew it would, but hoped it wouldn’t.

Hiyori and Nora come help please

July can’t come soon enough

I’m pretty sure this is my longest thoughts post ever. so much happened and I have so many feelings about all of it.

[treestargarden]

so at the request of the same friend, i’m gonna continue analyzing wonder egg priority episodes. this is episode 3 “a bare knife”, so 

tw: child sexual abuse, pedophilia, self-harm (cutting), suicide mention

rika is precious. i’ll say that right of the bat. the first survivor (unnamed) of hers we’re introduced to, its heavily implied her trauma is child sexual abuse. i’ll get into it further along the line, later, but ultimately, this makes me think the main characters’ wonder eggs r deeply relevant to their own trauma/healing. this is also the first time we’re introduce to another girls weapon, which is also relevant to their trauma. 

i love this shot of rika. it implies she has a very confident demeanor (outer appearance), but i figured if she’s doing wonder eggs, she probably has some deep shit to sort out, too. additionally, her intro to ai was stage acting, feigning a broken rib cage. its implied she was testing acca/uru-acca, which probably means she’s seen the two before. 

and comparing her overall interaction with neiru...

neiru’s portrayal is more straight-on. her character is a little more shut off and we don’t know a lot about her yet, but we do know appearance is a lot for her. the straight on profile is neutral. again, hiding deeper emotions/thoughts/motives for neiru.

they have made it a point to focus on this man’s shoes. every. single. time. he’s had maybe a total of 30 seconds of screen time so far 3 episodes in, but i already know his appearance in the show is relevant to ai’s trauma/healing. it was revealed that koito was seeing him--heavily implied it was grooming/sexual, but at this point it isn’t explicit. ai happened to walk in on them one time. so there’s a couple reasons why ai would react to the counselor the way she has. 

1) he’s probably spying on her to ensure her silence

2) he’s probably explicitly threatened her for her silence

3) he’s attempting to groom her, too, in order to gain her silence

something that was immediately obvious to me was rika saying the counselor was “hot.” which made me think about her first wonder egg girl being a ... survivor (using the term loosely, because she is technically dead) of child sexual abuse. at this point, i’m starting to think rika’s trauma is deeply rooted in adult men preying on her. not to mention the fact she was an “idol.” she briefly mentioned her group mates were “ugly” so they broke up. it wasn’t explained, but i have suspicion her idol manager was a man who often brought that up with her, trying to... make her feel separate from her group mates in order to more easily prey on her. he was grooming her.

and to further the point that the wonder egg girls are tied to the living girls’ current traumas, ai repeats over and over she doesn’t have friends, that koito was her only one. when we review the events of episode one, her first wonder egg, kurumi, also expressed that she didn’t have any friends either. 

ai’s second wonder egg, minami, is a little different. she doesn’t express specifically that she hasn’t any friends, but i suppose we could extrapolate some of her characteristics to get to that conclusion. for instance, she berates herself, constantly apologizes, and is described as “meek and timid.” all of these could be attributed to abuse, of course, but also can attribute to an introverted personality (whether that’s trauma-related or not is unknown). but the fact that she dies--and probably at the hands of the abuse (because its never really stated if she self-harmed or not), but it was explicit that her gymnastics coach would get very physical with her--can be probably inferred that nobody cared/knew about the situation. ultimately, she was alone, just as ai feels alone irl. 

so at this point, we’ve been introduced to rika’s coping mechanism--cutting. in this screenshot she expresses... resentment of her weapon “of choice.” which means their weapons are specifically linked to the girls’ traumas. in this instance, i believe it is specifically how they cope. for rika, her scissors* r probably indicative of using scissors to cut/self-harm. ai, on the other hand has a pen. it could be argued the weapon is significant to the first wonder egg, but i’m not convinced. 

for instance, in ai’s first wonder egg, kurumi, they made it a point to focus on the pen she dropped when she ran away in the cafe. it was seen that kurumi was writing--what, we don’t know. but instantly, ai was fascinated by the pen. it could be that she has specific attachment to this item due to her own irl experience. she doesn’t talk to many people, not even her mother. and she’s makes it a point to say koito was her only friend. her coping mechanism would be internalizing and journaling her pain, up to this point, however, we don’t have any explicit scenes of her journaling.

however, if we were to take the route that their weapons are tied to their first wonder egg, then we have to consider a couple things about rika. 

1) we only saw rika’s “first egg” ending, so we have no idea how important the scissors were to that narrative. 

2) my initial reaction was to say it was impossible to say this episode was rika’s first egg, because ai didn’t have a weapon for her entire first egg. HOWEVER, after being introduced to koito and jumping off the ledge to save the other girl, she did end up getting a “transformation” sequence where the regular pen turns into her weapon. 

on the other hand, she looks completely shocked about this, so i’m still pretty confident rika’s intro episode wasn’t actually her first wonder egg. coupled with the fact rika is known to stage act, and the previous evidence i mentioned earlier about her first encounter with ai, i truly do not believe this episode was rika’s first. 

at this point, i’m fairly certain this is a show about healing from your own traumas. in my last review for episode 2 i was concerned it was a white knight narrative, but upon this speculation--the fact that the girls’ weapons, and the wonder eggs are relevant to their irl traumas/healing narratives, i definitely think this is... a self-saving narrative. 

a couple of last notes, before i end this analysis. 

1) wounds: the girls are immortal in the wonder egg worlds, but sustain wounds irl. i think this supports my idea that this is a self-savior narrative in the sense that when you deal with these traumas head-on--looking into your past, doing deep introspection--the trauma can definitely make you feel you’re re-living those injuries. but technically you are ok, you’re in the present. 

HOWEVER, when that processing happens, we can sustain irl injuries--this can be anything from sleep loss, visual/audio hallucinations, paranoia, anxiety, depression which does translate to irl hurt and pain. they are both... /real/, its just that one is more prominent because of its proximity to the present. 

2) rika: i still have some lingering thoughts about her backstory. for instance, when it was revealed the Chiemi committed suicide because rika rejected her, i also believe rika started cutting herself. this could have also ended up in the lane of “you’re an idol, you aren’t supposed to do that. you’re supposed to be perfect. now you’re ugly” rather than her being groomed specifically with those words to separate her from the rest of her group. 

specifically, its possible she was projecting that hatred onto her group mates. like... /she’s/ more human than them because she has feelings/emotions. she’s not a robot like her group mates, etc. 

*i say scissors, but they also look like a pair of razor blades, i’m not really sure as i haven’t gotten a clear shot of them 

either way, i find rika’s backstory fascinating, and i can’t wait to see more of her. 

[little-ideas]

Soulmate AU where if you see each other in dreams throughout your life

Once Upon a Dream

This was so fun to write! Thank you for the prompt! :D Hope you enjoy~ ^ w ^

LUCIFER

Lucifer doesn’t dream. He never has and he doesn’t notice it.

Once, many millennia ago, it came up in a conversation with his brothers and they speculated as to why he doesn’t dream and it made him hopeful for a little bit, but nothing changed for many years and so he buried the thought

Has completely forgotten about it at this point

Until one day he dreams

He’s baffled upon waking -it felt so alive yet everything was shadowed and blurred, silhouetted

The first time he dreams he’s so disoriented and off during the day that his brothers are concerned

They question him and he confides in them what happened because he has no idea and Levi is ON it with dream interpretation

Lucifer tries to find the silhouettes from his dreams, but there are 3 realms and he’s extraordinarily busy, so it’s difficult

His brothers try to help, but they can only go off of what Lucifer tells them, and it’s not much

Most of them are trying to help because they hope an S/O will loosen him up/get Lucifer off their asses (though they do care for his happiness!)

Asmo is all over the idea of Lucifer having a soulmate and is the most excited out of all the brothers (outwardly even more than Lucifer)

He tried to help Lucifer by using magic, but Lucifer doesn’t let him when he asks, and is so guarded that when Asmo tries without Lucifer’s permission, the magic backfired

Diavolo tries to help out as soon as he learns about the situation, but Lucifer already knew he would be a pain about it, so bribed Barbatos to keep Diavolo off his hands

MC

MC always has a presence in their dreams, can’t remember a time without the shadowy figure

Jokes about them being death or a guardian angel, maybe slenderman

Honestly though, who has time to be afraid of the monster under the bed when a shadow figure haunts your dreams?

If they ever have a nightmare, as soon as they meet they figure in their dream, they are comforted

Sometimes they’ll dream of some silhouetted place with all these weird outlines and ???

They try to find such a place on Earth, but it’s futile and exhausting

ONCE MC GETS TO THE DEVILDOM

Dreams are crisper and the environment now detailed, the figure in their dreams is still shadowed, but no longer blurred

Lucifer knows

Already knew Simeon in the Celestial Realm and wasn’t having dreams then

Luke’s too old

With his 72 pacts, Solomon found his soulmate long ago

So MC is the only one left

Lucifer knows, but he isn’t going to do a damn thing about it

MC also realizes that first night that their soulmate is a demon since they can now see the Devildom in their dream; however, unlike Lucifer, they have the entire freaking Devildom to consider

Overtime the two begin to feel the other’s emotions in their dreams

Discombobulated Lucifer 2.0 because HIS HUMAN FEELS SO MANY THINGS IN ONE DAY & THEY AREN’T EXASPERATED ALL THE TIME?!? What is this happiness?

MC on the other hand often wakes up annoyed a lot. Why tf is their soulmate so uptight and tense??? Take a chill pill omg

MC probably asks the brothers for help and they try, really, but there’s also a lot of other things that are happening

None of them remember the conversations with Lucifer because that was YEARS ago

MC gets more desperate as the year goes on, though the brothers promise they’ll continue to help even after MC returns to the Human Realm

They’ve all confirmed that they aren’t MC’s soulmate, except Lucifer. He’s not around for their conversations and it gets thrown out once that he may be their soulmate because they’re running low on options and why not? They’re all just musing after all

Someone vaguely remembers the conversations with Lucifer then

The more they all think about it, the more likely it seems

But nobody’s got the guts to actually confront Lucifer about it

When Diavolo finds out about MC’s soulmate being a demon, he tries to help, but again, Barbatos is on it (he saw the future, Lucifer had to up his bribes)

The night MC & Lucifer make a pact is the night the two know for sure

Regardless of whether MC ends up in Lucifer’s room, they see each other in their dream. This time, there are no backgrounds, no other details, only them two. They are fully visible, no longer shadowed, and can now actively interact

They have a lot to work out/talk about, but Lucifer insists that he’ll handle Diavolo and MC still has to return to their realm

Lucifer is the one to send MC back to the Human Realm, and right before he does, he kisses them

Diavolo freaks tf out 

WHAT DO YOU MEAN MC’S YOUR SOULMATE?!?

Those rules Diavolo wrote for the brothers about contacting MC? He bends them for Lucifer

Honestly the dream thing wouldn’t be so bad since MC & Lucifer can now see each other in their dreams, except the time difference between the Devildom and Human Realm is a bitch

MC and/or Lucifer get in the habit of naps because of this

Lucifer as a soulmate works really well because he can use his magic in the dreamworld and uses it for the two to go on dates

Because MC doesn’t have magic though, Lucifer can’t completely seal off routes to his dreams or else he’ll cut off MC, too. Eventually Belphie & Co. figure this out and cause chaos/crash in to his dreams

Thankfully this is pretty close to the time MC returns to the Devildom, so they stop having the need to invade dreamland

Lucifer can let down his guard and is sweet inside their dreams

The fact that MC is human and Lucifer is a demon will definitely weigh upon them though

Should MC want it, he’ll figure out a way to make MC immortal

If MC refuses though, choosing to remain human, Lucifer will keep track of their soul and makes sure they’re reincarnated (probably pulls some strings with Simeon)

[silverwhiteraven]

To Learn - MariBat Brucinette One-Shot (for now)

[Bruce Wayne, still in training to become Batman, is looking for new Masters to teach him. Alfred made a suggestion to go to Paris, looking for a certain "Guardian". Bruce didn't realize he wouldn't be prepared for what he encounters.]  

[ Posted on A03 ]

Bruce Wayne stepped from his private plane and onto the asphalt of the Paris Airport. He took a cursory glance around before taking the swiftest route out of the airport and to the sleek rental car he had prepared for him. 

He was alone on the trip, no Alfred to assist him on this particular journey. It was a bit nerve wracking, all things considered.

Bruce had been training for three years already all around the world in preparation for becoming Batman. Alfred had been the one to suggest this particular ‘Master’. But that wasn't the concerning part.

It concerned him that Alfred had been reluctant to suggest him. He had a look in his eye that Bruce would swear was that of not knowing something. Alfred being clueless was always a cause for concern, *always*. 

But the understanding butler knew what this meant to Bruce, and gave him the instructions to find the mysterious Guardian. Bruce convincing him he was ready for anything that came his way also helped to ease the other’s worries.

As Bruce drove through the streets of Paris, he remembered being shocked to learn that this place, this proclaimed city of love, was where he would be training to fight the crime of the darkest city in the world. It had made him laugh when it reminded him of older children's shows proclaiming love to be able to conquer all evil.

It was a bit ironic since that wasn't what he was quite going for, but he would give the city a try for now, even if just for the lessons. 

He stopped the car, parked at the border of the park surrounding the Eiffel Tower where Alfred had suggested he go when he arrives. He stepped out of the car and leaned back into the vehicle as he looked up at the overshadowing tower and recalled what Alfred had said in his instructions.

“*Stay there as long as it takes, Master Bruce, he will find you. The Guardians have a strange way of knowing where to be.*”

He had tried to look into these ‘Guardians’, and he was a bit surprised at what he found.

Part of his research lead him to an old online archive, more of a blog, really, that detailed and recorded a fight in the city of Paris. He remembered back in college when the news of the three villains, first two, then a third born of the first two’s defeat, spread across the globe after they had all been taken down. Before that, it was mostly rumors and hearsay. Even catastrophic, world-affecting events hadn’t been connected to the Parisian villains until then.

Bruce had also come across on the blog the theory about an order that protected the miraculous, and how that theory questioned if their heroes, Ladybug, Chat Noir, and the other ‘Miraculous’ users, were mantles passed from hand to hand instead of immortal individuals like early the earliest theory suggested.

He had spoken to Alfred about it just before leaving on this trip, and the elder man had confirmed that the Master, the ‘Guardian’ he was sending Bruce to, was indeed part of a kind of order centered around these mystical items. He didn't elaborate too much, but he didn't need to, and Bruce accepted the answer in stride, though still with a grain of salt. 

Bruce watched the tower idly as the sun began to set, and he blinked when he saw two little figures appear on its peak. He didn't get to look for long before a loud *pop* brought his attention forward. 

A tall biker-styled woman with wild reddish-pink, black-tipped hair around his own age was leaning casually on a tree across the road, her eyes locked on him like a predator that already ate but didn't feel like laying down just yet. He looked at her critically in return until his eyes locked with her’s.

They seemed to scream even louder than even Alfred’s; *I know enough secrets to make the world burn.*

He sat up a little straighter, and with the setting sun framing her like a backdrop to a major climax, she shoved off her perch and came towards him.

She stopped before Bruce, looking him over critically before nodding like they were casual friends greeting each other.

“You're the Bat boy.” 

No question, no hesitation, she stated the fact like she knew it all her life. Maybe she did.

Bruce was still trying to formulate an answer when she turned on her heel and started strolling away. “Well, c’mon, won't be learning anything standing around like that.”

He hesitated only a moment before following her. 

He felt tense as they went, he knew nothing of this person or where she was taking him, but it wasn't like he had a choice. His brow furrowed as he wondered if *this* was the Guardian. She didn't seem to fit the role. Her eyes spoke volumes, but somehow they didn't contain what he was looking for.

They stopped before the doors of a boutique, a sign declaring it closed, and the girl went in without hesitance. He followed before she could leave him behind. 

She led him to the back and up a couple flights of stairs into an apartment that resided above the business below. He was directed to take a seat in an sitting area clearly meant for taking on groups of guests, away from the more lived-in areas of the home. 

“Want anything to drink, Bat boy? They’ll be back soon, no point in waiting for them to show before showing a little hospitality.” 

He shook his head and declined, “No, thank you. They?”

The woman only grinned in response before taking a big bite out of a cupcake she must have scavenged from somewhere else without his notice.

He sat in a rather awkward silence while she remained casual as ever.

But soon enough, he heard twin thumps on the roof above, where he had earlier noted a balcony to have been. He stood at attention and alertness as he looked up towards it, but the other person with him remained unphased.

She finally stood up and joined him when quick footsteps came down the stairs and out came a tall blond man that Bruce recognized as Adrien Agreste, a fellow inheritor of a company at a young age. The other man’s eyes lit up at the sight of the woman with them, then they landed on Bruce and they got even brighter. 

“Sup Alix!” Adrien greeted, before he turned back and leaned in towards the stairs, “Hey Mari!” He called up. “You have a guest!”

“What?” Came the confused reply back. “Who is it?”

Now Alix was the one to reply. “I brought you someone, come see!”

There was silence for several beats before, “What day is it?” The voice now sounded panicked, and both Alix and Adrien began to snicker between them. 

“You tell me,” her voice was teasing as Alix yelled up the stairs, “You've been planning this day for years, if you don't hurry the world might end again.”

Frantic noise sounded from above, quieting down as thumps sounded on the stairs once more. Bruce watched as another woman, their age and a bit shorter than the other two people in the room, came gliding down the stairs like Cinderella escaping from the ball. She slowed at the landing and came up before him, a light in her eyes that he didn't expect from someone who moments ago sounded utterly unprepared.

“Hello! You must be Bruce,” he nodded as she continued, and her companions came up behind her like two knights with their Lady.  “I’m Marinette. I’m the Guardian of the Miraculous. I’ve been expecting you.”

Finally, a thought occurred to him as he looked upon the Guardian, Marinette, and he swallowed.

*Oh no*, he thought, *Alfred was right. I am completely and utterly not ready for this.*

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

“No, no, no, no, no, no!”

This was your fault. All your fault. All because of your stupidity. Now you might be losing one of the most important people in your life. Sehun was limp in your arms but he was still breathing. You didn’t know whether to have hope or to begin mourning from that motion.  

“(y/n)?”

Through your blurred vision, you looked up to find Junmyeon kneeling in front of you in his human form. His hands were held cautiously out in front of him as if he were trying to communicate with a wild animal. And maybe that’s what you were. They may be the ones who could transform into dogs, but you were the barbaric one. Look at what your decisions had done.

“I did this to him,” you whispered, lowering your eyes back to the man who hadn’t given up on you.

“No, you didn’t,” Junmyeon reassured you. His hands laid over yours. Though they were warm like Sehun’s, they didn’t give the comfort you were needing. But you didn’t fight him as he removed your grip and took Sehun in his own arms. A new pair of hands landed on your shoulders, making you jump.

Soomi smiled down at you. Relief and love shined through her brown eyes absent of all the judgement you surely deserved. “Let’s go, (y/n).”

Instead of standing up and following the alpha, however, you broke down. You sobbed as Soomi wrapped her love-filled arms around you. She let you crumble into her chest. There was nothing but her love for you, no anger, no hatred for what you’d done. Despite what you’d seen, you should have known that she was not Tatia. Down to the very last moment, she was only Soomi, who truly cared.

Sehun was right. You were loved. More than you’d ever known.

**

The chair was not comfortable. The wooden seat made your back ache and there was a numbing sensation buzzing through your legs, but you still didn’t move. You stayed there by Sehun’s side, hands firmly wrapped tight around his own.

He was still asleep, wrapped up with bandages that covered the concoction Soomi had created to help the burns heal.

Apparently, the fire that came from Molia’s hands was structurally different than regular fire, enhanced and altered by magic - hence why the vampire didn’t turn herself into ash whenever she used it. Somehow, though, the fire also kept the wolf’s accelerated healing ability from working as well.

All night and well into the afternoon of the next day, you’d stayed by his side, not letting go of him for a second, except for the one time you went to the restroom. You’d even managed to eat the one meal you’d accepted from Lottie with one hand. Down in the basement, you knew Evie was in the same position.

That woman was a saint. She had to be. Even as you apologized and groveled for her forgiveness for Kris getting hurt, she never shouted or grew upset, giving you the blame you so deserved. She’d told you it would be alright and disappeared to be with her husband.

Not everyone was as forgiving or understanding. A few of the wolves - Tao and Baekhyun in particular - gave you narrow-eyed looks. That was the other - although extremely small - part of the reason you stayed up in Sehun’s room. You wanted to avoid the other people you’d put in danger. At least until Sehun was up and you were able to cower behind him.

Another person you hadn’t expected to be so kind towards you was Mother Willow. At first she hadn’t come back to the farmhouse with the rest of you, taking the coven with her. Your initial guess was that she was giving you time before the scolding and lecturing and consequences began. But no. Instead, she’d gone to find out more about Molia. You’d given Soomi the information you knew, who’d then passed it onto Mother Willow.

Now that Molia was dead, all her protective magic was gone too, making it easy for the coven to find her hideout. Apparently, she’d been in town an extended peroid, staying in a nice hotel room while putting together her malicious plot. Her diaries were even found. The insight discovered within those pages… it only increased your guilt.

“She wasn’t always so full of hate,” Mother Willow told you. When she’d entered in the early morning hours, you’d let her have your chair while you sat on the bed next to Sehun. Your eyes stayed on him while your ears took in the newest information discovered.

“Was it her coven?” you asked fearfully.

“Partially,” Mother Willow confirmed. “But it was also that vampire. She met him one night while gathering Evening Primrose. Witches and vampires were more sociable with each other back then, so they struck up a friendship. At night, she would meet him by the caves near her village and he would tell her of the world he’d seen. He fed into her fears of her coven turning against her.”

Closing her eyes, Mother Willow took a deep breath and let it out. A moment or so went by before she opened them again.

“I suspect that he might be the one truly behind the accident.”

That was the comment that made you peel your eyes away from Sehun. “The accident?” Molia’s screams from the memory of her “death” bombarded your ears. “What accident?”

Telling you all of this seemed to be taking its toll on her, though she continued anyway. “According Molia’s diary, she was by the river, arguing with Tatia. Her emotions surged, causing the water to rise and crash down on the banks. Tatia’s niece was playing nearby… she drowned. But she hadn’t been anywhere near the river. Molia had written in later entries that perhaps the vampire had come in and killed her, throwing her in the river to make it look like she drowned in the waves.”

“Th-that’s why the elders tried to bind her powers?”

Mother Willow nodded. “It would seem so.” With wrinkly fingers, she reached out and grasped one of your hands. “Though the details were never recorded, we knew the reason Molia had lost control was because she was given free reign of her powers. The mothers back then kept a watchful eye, but no one knew how to teach her, so they let her teach herself. We thought we could learn from their mistake by doing the opposite.”

You gently squeezed the brittle limb that held on tightly to you as if you’d run away again at the first chance. “Maybe there is no right or wrong way. Maybe we all have to find out who we are and how to manage that on our own.”

“But a little guidance along the way could help,” she smiled. It was a small one, barely visible among the folds in her face. You never really knew how old Mother Willow was – she always seemed like this perfectly preserved grandmother, never changing, never giving away the secret of her origins.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t return the smile she shared with you. “I still don’t understand, though.”

“Understand?”

“Yes. I don’t understand how she could choose the route she took to get here, even if she was manipulated by the vampire all those years ago.” While you knew the reasons Molia had given you – with her sweet words of a world where you didn’t have to be afraid of yourself – you didn’t believe that was her true motivation.

Mother Willow sighed. “We can never know for sure. But she was full of hatred – hatred for her own kind, hatred for herself. I believe that she was simply out for blood. She wanted control over the people who tried to control her.”

“But why wait four hundred years to try it?” you asked. “Why not go after them when she first woke up as a vampire?”

“Waking up to an immortal life is not as simple as waking up for the day. She had many things she had to learn, such as control over her thirst and how to balance her old and new powers. And you saw for yourself – she couldn’t control everybody, even at the height of her power under the blood moon. She needed help. She needed you.”

You scoffed. “And she knew I would come along?”

“Eventually,” Mother Willow nodded. “She knew eventually someone like her would come along and face the same fear and suspicion that she did. And she would use that to her advantage.”

She certainly did.

You fell for it all; small moments of doubt had crept in, but you ignored them in favor of being accepted and exploring your powers. Now… now you would be lying if you said you weren’t afraid of them yourself. No, you could never go back to hiding or suppressing them, but you feared that they could someday take over again.

“You are very lucky, you know.”

You blinked, looking up at Mother Willow as she let go of your hand and stood from her seat. “How is that?”

Her eyes fell from you to the sleeping wolf. “While we’re very much alike – wolves and witches – the dark history can never be forgotten. Not entirely. It might be because of that history that a mate bond being formed between the two is rare, almost as rare as your gifts. But Mother Fate – she knew what she was doing, tying the two of you together. He never gave up on you. His faith… it’s stronger than any spell. Soomi said that he searched the woods for you for three days, from the moment you disappeared. He is the greatest gift of all.”

You were stunned into silence, watching Mother Willow exit the bedroom. Even after the door was shut and her footsteps had faded away, you kept staring after her. Could what she said be true? Could he really have searched for you all that time, forgetting all about the argument that had taken place just before?

As if answering your question, a heavy sigh escaped Sehun’s lips, pulling your attention back to him.

“Please, wake up,” you whispered. There was so much you needed to say and you needed him to be able to understand, to actually hear the words that would leave your mouth.

Hours passed by. You’d shifted back into the wooden seat to hold Sehun’s hand at a more comfortable angle.

All throughout the time he was asleep, his brothers and their mates came to check up on him. Disappointment and worry decorated their faces whenever you informed them that there still was no change, no sign of him waking up. Kris had apparently already started to heal and was up walking around. That bit of news had given you hope, but you couldn’t drown out the tiny voice of doubt in your head. It constantly told you that this was your fault and that you were probably never going to be able to see those brown eyes again, the ones that soften after a single glance in your direction or that sparkled with mischief when he was too quiet.

Afternoon was slowly drifting into evening. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, begging for a small amount of relief. You hadn’t slept in almost two days and it was taking its toll. Perhaps… just a quick nap. You weren’t leaving or letting go of his hand. You would… still… be here….

It felt like no sooner had you closed your eyes and rested your head on the edge of the bed that you felt like you were being shaken awake.

“(y/n)? (y/n)?”

Groaning, you lifted your head in a sloth-like motion, eyes blinking away the sleep to find out who’d awaken you.

Smirking at you as he sat up in bed was Sehun. His dark eyes shimmered through the blurriness of your own.

“Oh, my god!”

You threw yourself onto him, not thinking nor really caring about his wounds in the moment. He was awake. He was finally awake and that was all that mattered. You heard him hold back and “oomph” as you landed on him, but it was quickly drowned out by your sobs.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out as you buried your face in his chest. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I’m sorry.”

He softly “shhed” in your ear as the tears rolled down your cheeks. In a soothing motion, he swayed you back and forth, even reaching behind you to bring your legs up on the bed so you were lying beside him.

Over and over, you cried out your apologies, each individual sorry for one action or another. There were other things you wanted to say, but none of them would come to surface.

“Stop apologizing,” Sehun said in that even voice of his. Usually you would have been annoyed as his lack of emotion, but right now you’d take each miracle as they came to you without complaint.

Pushing yourself up so you could look at him full, you wiped away the tears. “Why? It’s my fault you got hurt and-”

He kissed you. “I’d let myself get hurt over again if it meant you came home.”

Home. A simple word yet one with such a heavy meaning. You’d never felt as if you had one, but now? Now you held it in your very hands. Because Sehun was your home. And you’d come back to him every time.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you sought to release it the only way you knew how.

With Sehun’s warm cheeks in your palms, you leapt forward and crashed your lips into his. Control of the kiss was not yours for long. Sehun flipped you over so he was now hovering above you. One hand rested on your hip while the other caressed your face. Your tears had dried up and the cracks that you’d created in your own heart were beginning to heal. The scars would still be there forever, but if this was the medicine needed to ease the pain, you’d spend a lifetime taking it in.

Looping one arm under your back, Sehun scooped you up and brought you to a sitting position. You hooked your legs around his hips, clinging to him in desperation. His wounds didn’t seem to be bother him at all as he barely broke the kiss to expertly slip your long-sleeved shirt over your head. The cold air of the room nipped at your bare shoulders.

Sehun huffed at the camisole you’d been wearing underneath, but as his fingers played with the hem, you dived back in for another kiss, unable to go too long without one. Subconsciously, you must have heard the rumble of the floor, but you were too preoccupied to interpret what it might have been.

Slam!

The thundering herd suddenly came to a stop in the doorway as you jumped from the intrusion.

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” Chanyeol sighed with relief.

“I’d say he’s a little more than awake,” Jongdae snickered. Sehun growled at the comment, pulling you in tight to his chest with both arms wrapped around your waist.

“Sehun!”

Junmyeon pushed and shoved his way through the crowd of wolves to get to the front where he could see the proof for himself. Not even thinking, he ran forward and squeezed in between the two of you, practically choking the youngest wolf in the tightest of hugs.

“I’m alright, Junmyeon,” Sehun grumbled. His eyes flickered to you in a desperate attempt to get you to help him escape from the embrace, but there was no way you were going to save him from the alpha.

Eventually, Junmyeon let go, stepping back with a sigh. “That’s it. No more witches, no more rival packs, no more hunters. From now on, we are a normal pack with no troubles whatsoever.”

“Um, Junmyeon?” Jongin spoke up. “You do realize that’s impossible for us, right? I mean, at least with the ‘no witches or hunters’ part.”

Junmyeon looked at you with a tiny bit of shame. “Oh. Right. Not including you or Harper, of course.”

You waved a hand. “No offense taking. I think we could all use a bit of normalcy now.”

“Definitely not possible with this crowd,” Kris chuckled as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. He gave you a slight nod as if fully accepting you into the pack with that simple gesture. “It’ll be nice to have some quiet around here, though.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be quiet anytime soon,” said Baekhyun. “Especially with Harper being pregnant and I’m sure soon there’ll be more on the way.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait! You guys know? Since when?”

Sehun’s eyes went wide in your direction. “Since when have you known?”

Oh. Oops. “N-not too long.”

“We’ve only known for a day or so,” Minseok explained. “Only after hearing the two of them talk about it… very loudly.”

Your curiosity was rising as to how that whole scenario went down, but you decided you’d talk to Harper about it later – at a more appropriate time.

“So, now that you all know that I’m awake and fine, can you leave now?” Sehun may have phrased it like a question, but there was no actual asking behind the tone.

“Are you sure you’re in good enough health for that?” Tao teased.

“Are you sure you’re in good enough health for that?” Sehun mocked before throwing a pillow at the other wolf. It was easily dodged, but they got the idea and scattered, Junmyeon being the last to leave and closing the door behind him. Sighing, Sehun turned back to you. “Now, where were we?”

You pursed your lips. You weren’t entirely on board with what you were about to say, but you felt like it needed to be done. “As much as I hate to agree with Tao, I think I should. You still need to heal up after what Molia did to you.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. Hooking a finger through one of the belt loops on your jeans, he pulled you in closer. “Besides, if I remember correctly, the last time we really talked was when we argued. That means we have a lot of making up to do.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as his cheesy lines. “Down boy.”

He shook his head. “Not this time.”

**

You didn’t think you were ready for this. It was an inevitability, unavoidable and an absolute. But even though you’d walked yourself through it several times over the last few days, you still weren’t ready for it. So you were hiding on the front porch steps while everyone else was inside.

Soomi and Mother Willow’s cottage had been your two constants in life. You were more than prepared to leave behind the cottage and move into the farmhouse with Sehun permanently, but saying goodbye to Soomi? That was another ordeal entirely.

Sure, there had been times where she’d gone on short research trips or visited other covens, but you knew she was coming back and she was only gone for a week, maybe two at the most. This time, though, she would leave and you didn’t know when you would see her again. Your life was moving on in a way you’d never imagined nor expected and it hurt more than you’d ever thought possible.

You tried to suppress the sniff that came with the single tear, but the sound came out anyway. You didn’t want to think about the suitcase place conspicuously beside the door just inside the parlor. She couldn’t stay, you knew that. That didn’t mean your feelings suddenly went away as well.

Sehun was healed to the point that it was as if the injuries never happened in the first place. The blood moon was here and gone and you weren’t having any more visions of possible evils to come. Life was calm again which meant it had to go on. Soomi was no longer needed here – by the pack, at least. You would always need her. Part of you considered asking Junmyeon if she could stay, but that wasn’t fair to anyone involved besides yourself. And you’d been selfish enough.

“You’re breaking my heart, being like this.”

You tried to hurriedly wipe away the evidence of your sadness. It was useless, though, as Soomi sat down beside you on the steps, an arm draped around your back.

“I’m going to miss you,” you confessed without prompt.

“And I’ll miss you,�� she replied. “But you’re not alone. And I’m only a call away, if you really need me.”

You rolled your eyes, more at yourself and the sappiness coming out of you rather than Soomi’s promise. “I’ll always need you.”

“For that, I’m thankful.” She wrapped her other arm around your front and pulled you in for a hug. You held on tightly, still not entirely ready to let her go.

“Soomi, are you read- oh, sorry.” Junmyeon turned to go back inside, but Soomi jumped up to her feet. Her own eyes were starting to water. This goodbye was hard on you both.

“No, it’s fine. I should get going before it gets too late in the day.”

Nodding, Junmyeon reached inside and rolled out the suitcase. He handed it over without a word.

“Thank you,” Soomi smiled at him. It getting easier for her, you could tell. Her smiles to him were now friendlier, not so sad.

“Of course,” he said. “If you need anything, just call. Thank you again, for coming.”

“We’re always happy to help.”

Clearing his throat and nodding one last time, Junmyeon patted your back before heading back inside. You followed Soomi down the steps and to her waiting car. You helped her put her suitcase in the trunk and even walked all the way to the driver’s side door. You really didn’t want this to be it.

As if sensing your hesitation, Soomi hugged you once again. “I love you. You know that right.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I definitely do. And I love you, too.”

She held on for a few seconds longer before letting go. “Okay. I have to go now before I’m tempted to stay.”

You laughed, knowing it was true. So, you took a step back to give her room. The engine roared under the hood, vibrating the small compact vehicle. With one final wave, Soomi started down the long drive towards the main road.

A warm arm suddenly appeared around your waist. You smiled sadly up at Sehun, who brushed it away with a kiss to your forehead.

“You’ll see her again,” he said. You nodded silently before looking back at the car just before it disappeared among the trees.

No, it wasn’t goodbye forever, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

[inquisitorhotpants]

WIP .. uh Thursday lmao

I was tagged by @semper-draca and this is a good excuse to share this xD

--

You don’t get to his level of social standing, Raubahn tells himself as he rematerializes outside the Quicksand, without getting used to the stares. 

It’s true, of course; rising from gladiator to member of the Syndicate and commander of the Immortal Flames and right hand of the Sultana does bring with it an unavoidable level of notoriety, and notoriety brings with it stares of various types. None of those, however, are the types of stares one gets when one materializes out of an aetheryte with a beautifully dressed, unconscious woman draped in one’s arms. 

And if people on the street are comfortable gawking at him, he can’t imagine what Momodi is going to say. 

*

“Why, General!” Momodi chirps as he stops at her desk, her smile positively gleeful. “I didn’t have makes the Sultana’s guest fall for him on my card for this evening, but you have ever been a surprising man. And so literal, too!” 

Raubahn leans a bit over - 

(Dancing, a voice in his head supplies.) 

- the guest of honor, doing his utmost to not notice whatever scent that is she’s wearing -

(something warm and inviting and if you don’t stop noticing right now this entire interaction with Momodi is going to get very awkward for you, and how is his internal voice so chipper about all of this?)

- in order to give Momodi a haughty look. “If you think all your jests can get the sultana’s guest of honor back to her room without my assistance, Momodi, I can hand her to you.” 

“Raubahn Aldynn, you will not leave that poor woman to be dragged along the floor like a sack of washing!” Momodi scolds, though she still has a twinkle in her eye. “I’ll escort you to her room.” She leads him to nearly the top floor, opening the door with a key from a ring she produces from one of her pockets. As the door swings open, she opens her mouth, then closes it again when he raises one eyebrow, choosing instead to give him a wink. “Do stop by my desk before you leave!”

Dancing’s room, he notes as he carries her toward the bed, is still mostly devoid of personal belongings, though he sees her usual clothing folded neatly and stacked on top of the dresser. Below her window, however, Ul’dah stretches out like a spilled bag of sparkling gems, a thousand lights in a thousand windows gleaming in the night. He shifts one arm, braces her while he pulls the coverlet down, and eases her into the bed, taking off slippers that seem impossibly dainty for the sort of woman that punches ruffians for a living and setting them at the end of the bed. 

He pulls the coverlet up over her - desert nights at this time of year have quite a chill to them - then pauses. 

It seems like he hears tales of her deeds nearly every other day. She stops land-grabbing bandits. She brings medicine and food to refugees. She saved Nanamo without even knowing who Nanamo was. He’d already admired her before tonight, even before she’d kindled hope within him that he’d thought all but lost. 

And then she’d collapsed into his arms - the desert heat, some said, and the strain of her exertions, it’s understandable - and even as he assured Nanamo he’d see their guest of honor brought back to her lodging at once, as he’d left the banquet as sure-footed as he’d ever been on any battlefield, he’d found himself instead admiring the flame of her hair, the curve of her jawline. How the weight of her in his arms feels like the most natural thing. 

At least there hadn’t been anybody around to hear his whispered oh no as he stretched his hand out toward the aetheryte. 

This is not a distraction he needs. It’s simply a matter of putting this all out of his head, which he will do on his walk home, so that he can continue to interact with Dancing on a purely professional level.

He turns briefly toward the door, then reconsiders. Standing there trying to keep a straight face while Momodi runs through her comedy routine is not how he saw this evening going -

(he determinedly ignores the now-smug voice in his head asking and how did you see the evening going? After all, you did get her into bed … in a manner of speaking)

- and it might actually be easier to just scale the side of the building.

He takes one step toward the balcony; there’s a rustling beside him, and then warmth against his skin as Dancing’s hand finds his. He turns back to her just as honey-golden eyes drift partway open. 

“Raubahn?”

(I have committed the way she sleepily murmurs your name to memory. I shall supply it on the slightest of provocations.)

Maybe he’ll have to take the long route home. 

“You fainted at the banquet,” he says gently. “The sultana wanted to be sure you got back safely. I had hoped I wouldn’t disturb you.” 

If there is anyone merciful in the Twelve, that will be the end of it. 

Dancing hums a sleepy sort of mmm and rolls toward him as her eyes close, hand still in his. 

Clearly the Twelve don’t feel like being merciful this evening.

As Dancing starts to snore softly, Raubahn eases his hand out of hers, waits to make sure she doesn’t awaken again, and steps out onto the balcony. 

“You seem to have forgotten how to get to my desk,” Momodi says from her perch on the balcony railing, not looking up from what she’s reading. 

Raubahn claps a hand to his hammering heart. “Momodi, Twelve preserve us,” he whispers. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting to see if you’d try to duck out of talking to me.” 

“Can you blame me?”

“Hmm ... no, I suppose not.” This time she does close her book and look up at him, grinning. “So what are you going to do about it?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do? About what?”

“Don’t play dumb sword-swinger with me, Raubahn. You like her.”

[schrijverr]

Introductions

How Bertie met Jonny and introduced him to Tim. Wherein Jonny gets beaten up and then saved by Bertie, who is familiar with keeping idiots alive.

On AO3.

Ships: Bertie x Tim (x Jonny preslash)

Warnings: jonny gets beat up. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~~

Bertie was making his way to his and Tims tent, when he saw the small crowd chanting something about a fight. He frowned and went over to see what the fuss was all about. Getting to the front he could see four big guys beating the shit out of a small soldier.

“Hey, hey, what the fuck, let him go.” Bertie exclaimed, pulling one guy off.

The guy turned around, gearing up to fight Bertie, but although Bertie had a soft heart he was also up in the 6ft with a lot of muscle on him, so the guy just snarled something about the other deserving it, before storming off with his buddies.

With the entertainment gone, the crowd dispersed until it was just Bertie and the soldier. He looked worse for wear, but not really upset, even grinning slightly as he checked if his teeth were still all there.

“Hi, I’m Bertie, you okay? What did you do to piss them all off?” Bertie asked.

The soldier shook his hand: “Jonny, nice to meet ya. And I’m fine, you didn’t need to save my ass, I had it handled.”

Bertie rolled his eyes at the brashness of this Jonny, who from his perspective was on the edge of being beaten to death, something he informed the other off.

Jonny in turn just laughed and said: “Very bold of you to assume I can die.”

Oh no, Bertie thought, another kid with illusions of grandeur about his own survival skills, he and Tim would get along. Hmm, he and Tim would get along.

“Sure, immortal boy, just tell me why they beat you up and I’ll get you some bandages so that you and your invulnerable skin can continue to exist.” Bertie told him sarcastically, leading him along the route he had already been taking.

“Hey, I said immortal not unkillable.” Jonny protested, jogging slightly to keep up, “And I kind of did deserve the beating, if you are to believe their reasoning. And I’m not a boy.”

“Okay, then immortal man.” Bertie teased, “What’s the reasoning?”

“Well, you remember that one recruiter song? The one that went like: Grab yourself a laser lad and serve your Queen with a smile, smile, smile.” Jonny sang the last part and it sounded very familiar almost uncanny, like he was the person he’d heard on the radio…

“Oh.” Bertie said, getting it suddenly.

“Yeah, apparently I’m to blame for convincing them to join, like they didn’t buy into it themselves, like I mean, if they’d just listened they could hear that was just blatant propaganda.” Jonny told him, “I just want to say, I’ve seen a history book, no one ever described soldiers as having a smile that’s just basic thinking.”

Bertie snorted slightly and agreed: “You have a point there, me and Tim got drafted, but I have to say this is not what I expected of it.”

“Oh, I enlisted, along with TS, thought it’d be fun.” Jonny told him.

Internally Bertie thought, oh god why is he so dumb that he thought that was a good reason, oh my god, who is in charge of him. Out loud, however, he said: “What makes you say that? You were just bashing those guys for thinking it would be fun.”

“Yeah, but they’re dumb, cause they can die, I can’t, so for me it is fun, like an extreme laser tag fight.” Jonny explained.

Bertie fought off a huge face palm, Jonny obviously believed this immortality thing more than he had expected. He asked: “And is it as fun as you expected?”

“I’m having a great time, yeah, less beating the shit out of someone with my bare hands, but still enough violence to keep me occupied until I can go.” Jonny shrugged.

“And where is this TS?” Bertie asked, trying to figure out who was making sure Jonny was surviving this war until it was over. He was already so tiny and it broke Berties heart to know that he had probably come up with the immortality to cope with the war.

“The Toy Soldier deci-”

“The Toy Soldier?”

“Yeah, its a bit of a weirdo, but anyway, it decided it liked the uniforms of the Lunar Men more, all the plumes, you know, so it joined them, but I’m sure I’ll see it again once it gets bored.” Jonny explained, but not clearing much up.

“Ah, of course.” Bertie said, glad that his tent was already in sight.

When they got in sight Tim waved at him with a smile and held up a bottle as he called out: “Bertie, who did you pick up this time?”

“Who’s that?” Jonny asked.

“Tim, an idiot I’m trying to keep alive currently, who has a affinity for explosions.” Bertie said.

“He sounds cool.” Jonny replied, skipping forward and introducing himself to Tim, “Hello, I’m Jonny d’Ville, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Gunpowder Tim.” Tim shook his hand, “What happened to your face.

“Some assholes.” Bertie answered for Jonny.

“Apparently people don’t like it when you tell them they’re stupid for enlisting and buying into propaganda and me helping in creating said propaganda.” Jonny told him.

Bertie pushed him down on the floor and got out his first aid kit as he started to clean Jonnys face while he said: “Phrasing it like that doesn’t make you sound sympathetic just like an asshole.”

“I am an asshole.” Jonny pointed out.

“Where did you find this kid?” Tim asked, and Bertie could see how much he was loving this.

“Getting beat up for being the one who sang that recruiter song that terrorized the radio for weeks, remember that one?” Bertie answered as he dabbed Jonny face with disinfectant.

“I’m not a kid.” Jonny interjected, “I am very old, but I feel like you won’t believe me when I tell you this, which is honestly quite rude.”

“And why’s that, baby-face?” Tim asked.

Jonny pouted, which did nothing to built his case, just made him look adorable, as he said: “I’m immortal, I’ve been alive for centuries and I’ve died about three times so far in this war, which honestly isn’t a lot, but I’m aiming for that, because I have a bet going with Ashes about it for when I get back to Aurora.”

“Those were a lot of words mate, but don’t expect me to make sense of them.” Tim informed him, “Can you play cards and drink?”

“Yeah, of course.” Jonny answered with a grin.

“Then I don’t care, here have a glass.” he grinned back and handed Jonny some booze.

Bertie rolled his eyes at Tim and said: “You, good sir, are a bad influence.”

“What can I say, Jonny here doesn’t look like he needs one to be fun, unlike you Bertie. Come on drink a bit, I stole a card pack and I modified my gun, let loose, have a little fun.” Tim slung an arm around Bertie and gave him his best puppy eyes.

“Okay, fine.” Bertie sighed, putting a band-aid over Jonnys nose, the final touch to his handy work, “It’s not like I can escape you.”

Tim cheered, while Jonny started to shuffle the cards. In the back of his mind, Bertie couldn’t help, but feel like he’d made a mistake with introducing the two, but he loved seeing Tim smile and this Jonny kid did just that.

[errthel]

Route Two : Model Lucien (5)

Hello, wassup, yup, I don't know what other word to use- bonjour. That's it. So um, I hope you like Model Lucien... bcs he pretty hot cute

As always, a big thanks to @tri3tri for creating such wonderful yandere stories, my heart hurts, and for letting me and many others create stories based on her stories and AUs.

Alrighty so let's get to it.

The next day was tame and relaxed for the (h/c) haired boy as he continued on with his classes. He aced the chemistry test, did well in dancing and magic history all was doing alright-

"Luciiiiieeeennnn! You look so handsome in the photos!!!" Brier said skipping into Lucien's classroom right after the bell indicating lunch rang

"Ha?"

Brier showed his screen to the clueless boy, swiping each photo where Lucien looked hot as shit very handsome. The rest of his classmates congratulated him, patting him in the back, complimenting him, encouraging him, as he teared up and pouted.

"I look better than that photo..."

~

The black haired man looked at his phone in absolute awe, his son's magicam on full display.

Splayed on his latest post, a boy, with the most beautiful (h/c) hair, expressive (e/c) eyes, smooth pale skin, fine bone structure, pink lips, his slim body hidden by fine wool pieces signifying the autumnal season.

He wore a three piece suit consisting of a suit jacket, vest, and a pair of tailored pants. The wool was in a warm brown wool with a lovely. houndstooth pattern. He casually sat on a white chair with intricate patterns on it. Casual his pose may be, but God did it fit him.

This was the first time Neige has seen the boy in the post, but he was beyond curious, who was he? Where did he come from? If he was this handsome, no doubt would he have seen him earlier as a child model.

Lucien, that was his name, nothing in the description of the post said anything about where he came from.

"Mira, reschedule my schedule. I'm visiting RSA."

~

The blonde haired man, who finished a small workout, was checking his magicam while drinking apple juice from his friend's hometown.

His search didn't go far as he dropped his phone in sheer surprise.

His hands stumbled to snatch his phone off the floor, checking again truly showed that this boy was truly, truly like the epitome of beauty.

Vil, looked again at the boy who surprised him so much and studied him like a scientist does to his specimen.

(H/c) colored hair that was as silky as the finest silk, (e/c) eyes that gleamed like gems, pink lips that curled up into a smirk as he wore a black suit that fit perfectly. Vil couldn't help but remember from years ago, a special person. The potato from Ramshackle Dorm, the messy beauty who helped him out during his third year of high school.

Was he her child? There was only one way to find out.

"Mira, reschedule my schedule. It seems I'm going to RSA." Vil said seething a bit at the end

Vil typed in some numbers and brought the phone to his ear.

"Oui?"

"Rook, we're going to RSA."

~

Lucien looked at the envelope of cash Noel gave him and his eyes almost popped out of its sockets. Counting the money, he was able to deduce that what he had received was a staggering amount of money. They were currently in the ever busy Modeling Clubroom.

"Noel-senpai! This must be a mistake!"

"Eh? Is it not enough?"

"What? No!? It's too much for a high schooler to have!"

"Oh! That's your share, you were really popular you know, say, why don't you buy a phone and make a magicam with that money. I'm sure you'll be able to get more."

"That's not the point!"

A knock disrupted the two students as they looked at the culprit, Asher stood there clearing his throat.

"Heyya Lucien-chan~ you got some guests."

"Eh?"

"My, my, you look so much more beautiful in person Lucien-san."

"Hmph! I'd say there's a clear difference between a photo and the real thing."

"You must be Monsieur Lucien! Ah such beauty! I shall call you Le Prince Inattendu!"

"Who are these???"

~

(E/c) eyes observed the seemingly neverending grey sky that blanketed the Valley of Thorns. Those eyes looked soulless as they looked out to the distance from their window.

The owner of those eyes wore a soft nightgown made with what can only be imagined as the best silk money could buy. She sat on her comfortable window seat staring off at what ever caught her eyes on the palace grounds.

A knock on her door didn't faze her ministrations as well as the creak of the opening door.

"Your Highness, His Highness was worried that you didn't eat breakfast." her most trusted maid said with a deep bow

The queen reverted her eyes towards the maid and wondered why she still served her and not Bellatrix. Honestly she could have chosen to serve Bellatrix instead and have a friendlier and cooperative mistress, like a dog itching for attention.

"I'm not in the mood to eat any time soon."

"Then I will have your lunch be delivered to your bedroom Your Highness." swiftly replying, she left the (h/c) haired woman to let her further enjoy her peace

"..."

Glancing off into the distance, she saw in one of the many palace gardens, Bellatrix holding what seems to be a tea party.

Typical of her, after all she was rather childish and longed for praise and showers of compliments and if she couldn't get it from Malleus, she would have to get it from her fellow noble ladies of the Valley of Thorns.

"My love. I had heard that you didn't want to eat."

Ah, the person she least wanted to see.

"..."

"Please don't be like that my dear, it hurts me that you aren't talking to me." Malleus walked closer and closer to her sitting figure, trying to get her to at least talk

"..."

Malleus gripped her shoulders as he tried to get her to talk, saying words of endearment, cooing at her, he tried everything.

Dejected, he walked out of the room-

"I want to talk to my children, not you..."

~

Sharp (e/c) eyes stared right into the lenses of the camera, a hint of eye liner to make it a bit more mysterious. The owner of those eyes contorted his body to accommodate the two older models who was also staring into the lenses.

Clapping and praise came from the blonde haired man who stood beside the photographer, his enthusiasm was synonymous to what the whole room was feeling as they all, in their own ways, were at awe with the three attractive creatures in front of them.

The blond model was stationed on the left of the youngest and was exceptionally beautiful, no, a better word would be gorgeous. His energy and appearance gave a mature and somewhat devilish look to to the man. He was dressed in a lavish suit in a daring deep red color, his hair was slicked back to show off his perfect skin and structured face.

The man posed the right of the youngest was in an opulent deep yellow suit that rivalled the blond's deep red suit. He had an air of regality to him as he looked at the lenses. His dark hair was tousled and gave him a youthful look. If the blond model capitalized on immortal maturity, then this black haired one focused on giving the appearance of staying forever young.

The youngest drew a fine line in the middle of the extremes the men beside him were displaying. He had the aura of a mature man, with his suit being in a traditional dark blue color, inside the body of a teenager, which was shown through the fashion forward way in which his suit was constructed. His hair was unchanged from his usual style, the fringe staying to cover up his little secret.

The photoshoot went on for another hour and they soon started to finish up. Lucien, exhausted, accepted all the praise that was given to him with a bit of embarrassment. Neige clapped as he went closer to the boy, only to be stopped by Vil, who held Lucien's wrist.

Vil gave a charming smile before leading Lucien to a secluded table, far from any prying ears.

"Lucien, that's your name isn't it?"

"Mhm, Vil-san, why did you bring here?"

Vil stared hard into those eyes that shined as bright as the eyes of that girl from two decades ago, they were shrouded in a mysterious veil, Vil spotted it the first time he saw him in person and immediately became anxious. He was impressed with how well he hid it, but Vil wasn't idiotic enough to not see through it, he was Vil Schoenheit after all.

"Just a small question, I am wondering if you know anyone going by the name of (M/c) (L/n)? I realized that you both had the same surnames, so I was curious." polite and short

"... I don't think I ever came across someone who goes by that name."

"Is that so? I see, then good job today, you weren't half bad." Vil said as he left, not before his eyes trailed to look at Lucien's eyes

I hope you liked the little MC part =), so I just wanted to bring in some characters from the Valley of Thorns and others will have their own parts in the coming chapters so we won't focus too much on Lucien, to my chagrin.

Anyways, thanks for reading♡

Edit, I edited (Y/n) to (M/c) because while Y/n means Your Name, I don't think people like using themselves in these kinds of stories so instead I changed it to (M/c) to make it less akward, I hope you don't mind.

[scythian-andromache]

homeward bound

a The Old Guard fic Relationship: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Rating: T (referenced canon-typical violence) Summary: Nicolò di Genova came from Genova before Italy even existed, but it's been a long time since Nicky went home. (AKA: the immortals have a complicated relationship with memory and nostalgia, but sometimes home is intangible.)

also on [AO3]

***

Places, they hold memories in them. Make them tangible again, like a smell that transports you back to your childhood classroom, or a song that sends shivers up your spine and makes you feel just as you did when you first heard it in a café twenty years ago. Places are vessels for the past, even as physical landscapes shape the future. They hold the imprints of the things that happened there, for better or worse; places have power.

*

"Joe, Nicky, I need you to meet this contact." Andy's voice is crisp and collected as she details the next mission, passing Joe a scrap of paper with an address. "They have a dossier we need, and we can't leave an electronic trail. In person only, this time."

Even with Copley covering their asses, erasing any digital footprint he finds, Andy's been extra careful of late, making sure there's no chance that anyone learns who they are again, and honestly, Nicky appreciates it. He doesn't need anyone else experimenting on Joe. It's not the first time they've been captured and it probably won't be the last, but being used as lab rats has left a certain bitter pang of fear in the back of Nicky's brain.

"Nile will go with me," Andy continues, unaware of the little detour his brain took him on. "We'll rendezvous in three days, at the safe house outside of Marseille." She pauses. "You get out clean, you hear me? I'd better see both your ugly mugs in front of me on Thursday."  

"Yes, boss," says Joe, and Nicky manages a small smile, because this is one of the little ways Andy says I love you.

"Right, let's move out."

It's only a matter of grabbing their go-bags, really, but Nicky takes a moment to pull Nile aside and give her a quick hug.

"You take care of yourself, cucciola," he whispers. "Look out for Andy, but look out for yourself too, capisci?"

Nile hugs him fiercely, tightly, and then lets go quickly, straightening back into the stiff military stance that seems to be her fallback in situations like these when she's tamping down her emotions. "See you in three days, and not a second later."

He nods, and then they're going their separate ways, Andy and Nile screeching away in Andy's beat up Citroën.

"You want to do the honors, Habibi?" Joe asks, sliding into the driver's seat and passing the little scrap of neatly folded paper that contains their mission to Nicky.

Of course, Joe immediately complicates Nicky's efforts by reaching out to lace their fingers together over the gear shift, distracting him so that he fumbles with the paper. Nicky laughs, his task all the more difficult now with just one hand, and Joe lifts their twined hands to give Nicky's a kiss. Nicky shakes his head fondly at Joe's antics—he starts every road trip this way—and finally looks down to read who they're headed to meet.

The corners of Nicky's vision blur a little, and he feels himself go lightheaded. He squeezes Joe's hand tightly—too tightly—as he stares uncomprehendingly at what's inked there. Even though there is a name and the street number of a residence off of a piazza, all he can see is the last line, written in Copley's tight script: Genoa, Italy.

"Yusuf," he breathes. "Yusuf, look."

*

Genova, once upon a time, was home. Long before "Italy" existed, long before he became an immortal, the bustling streets of the merchant city were as familiar to Nicky as the freckle on his wrist or the soft way his mother smiled at her children when they did something clever. There was the market, where people shouted over each other about wares and prices, and the fountain where, at age nine, he'd tested his balance walking the lip of it and failed miserably, falling and scraping his knee, and the little twisting alley behind his home where, at thirteen on a dare, he'd chastely kissed Francesca, the baker's daughter, and hated it. He knew to always walk on the left side of the street that passed along his house, because the right side had loose cobblestones that were liable to trip you, and he knew that on Fridays, the shipbuilders took to the taverns, filling them with spirited—if drunken—singing. He fit there, and life was uncomplicated, or at least as uncomplicated as life ever gets.

*

Nicky hasn't been to Genova in more than nine hundred years.

They're immortals with adequate resources and his name is literally di Genova, so it might seem strange. Such a tangible connection to a location, one that was so close to his heart, and he hasn't gone in centuries, not even when he and Joe lived in Venitzia during the Renaissance, and not when they went to Firenze for the weekend a few years ago.

Because sometimes you can't go back.

He tried, once, in the early years after he first became immortal. He thought it might be a balm, a comfort. Something familiar to ease the profound sense of loss that had opened a cavern in his chest. A touchstone to who he'd been before the world turned upside down.

Instead, it felt like walking through a ghost town. It felt like existing within a refracted re-creation of his memories. Everything so hauntingly familiar, and yet slightly out of place. The city had grown, re-bricked, a new plaza where there should have been a house, and rows of shops and residences that hadn't existed before. The market went on cheerfully in the same spot, but the vendors were new, the wares organized differently. He'd walked past his childhood home to find the street busier, the stucco faded and cracked.

On his walk through the city, he'd sworn he saw his sister at the market, her face staring back at him, and then the woman had cursed him out for looking at her too long, and he'd realized the pitch of her voice was wrong, the curve of her eyebrow not quite right. Maybe, possibly, the old woman she was with when she left the market—hair greying and hunched figure and deep wrinkles around her dark eyes—had been his sister, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. Maybe she'd already been dead a generation. Maybe Nicky didn't actually remember her face, already so faded in his memory, and was so desperate to remember that he'd opened himself up to the power of suggestion.

It was only after the incident in the market that he realized: time had been grinding away at this once-familiar place, leaving no comfort to be had.

Nicky left the next morning, and never tried to return to Genova again.

*

It wasn't that he'd avoided it specifically; there'd just never been a reason to go before, and even though they'd visited Joe's hometown once, he'd never pushed to see Nicky's, sensing his reluctance.

After all, Genova isn't the only place Nicky or Joe have a difficult relationship with; perhaps it's the most salient, but they're immortal, and places tend to carry tangible reminders of the lives they've led, and the people they'll never get back.

Memories weigh down other cities too. Constantinople—er, Istanbul now, Nicky supposes—is another one, the streets somehow both foreign and nostalgic after the ten years they lived there. Echoes of friends' laughs ring out in quiet corners of the city, and the fragrant odor of spices—the bite of cumin and the wafting caress of mint—in the grand bazaar smells like hot nights drinking coffee with excitable scholars, passionately discussing philosophy until all hours, when their eyelids got leaden but their hearts were full. And strolling along the picturesque canals in Bruges never fails to turn up pangs of the indescribable loss of Quỳnh, and the memory of a broken Andy, sobbing that she'd lost her. (It's the only time Nicky can remember seeing Andy cry in the thousand years since they'd met.)

It happens with every place they've ever lived to some degree, wholly unavoidable, but Genova holds a strange and intimate attachment—something intrinsic—that these other places do not have.

It's true that sometimes you can never go back, but it's also true that you cannot escape your past entirely, either.

And now they have a mission there.

*

They pull into Genova in the late afternoon, as the golden hour rays are illuminating the city. (There's really nothing quite like the Italian sun, especially as it sets the port and the seaside on fire.) It's more colorful than he remembers, except for the water: that's as vibrant as it's always been.

They're making contact with their source in the morning, which means that tonight is mostly about laying low and not getting killed, two things that they should frankly be better at than they are.

Joe finds them an unremarkable pensione on a quiet side street, and books them a room for the night, paid in cash and using aliases. Untraceable.

Their route to finding a place to eat takes them past a view of the ocean and Nicky has to pause. Everything else has changed, but the ocean hasn't, not really. It's from a slightly different angle, but the same view he grew up with, familiar in a reflexive way, like muscle memory, something he'd forgotten he knew.

Over dinner, they talk about the mission, and speculate about how Nile and Andy are doing ("I bet you Andy's already done something stupid and Nile's had to take a bullet for her," Joe says, and Nicky replies, "Do you think I'm stupid? I know Andy too well; there's no way I'm taking that bet.") and revisit their long-standing debate about whether exiling Booker when his betrayal was borne of loneliness and isolation is really the right move.

The beautiful thing about being with someone so very long is that they know you, inside and out. Joe doesn't need to ask about how Nicky's dealing with being back in Genova, because he can see it written out across his face, detailed in the tension in his shoulders. (They'd talked a little bit about it in the car, and will probably talk about it some more later, but for now Joe won't press, and Nicky loves him all the more for it.)

On the way back to the pensione they take a different route, and stumble across a little plaza that Nicky recognizes. He squeezes Joe's hand and they continue, but if he looks hard enough, he fancies he can see the shade of his younger self scampering across the cobblestones.

How foolish, really.

*

In the deepest depths of the night, Nicky, restless, slips out of bed, sneaks out of the pensione.

The city has been painted over, rebuilt a dozen different times and pieced together like a patchwork quilt, but underneath it all are the bones of the city Nicky once knew. His feet carry him through the warren of streets, and he finds himself, suddenly, standing in front of his childhood home.

He stares at the building where he was born. Where he begrudgingly learned his first shaky letters. Where he sliced open his palm, trying to whittle a bit of wood like his older brother. Where he and his sister Catalina, closest in age of all of them, swapped whispered secrets and fantastical stories of their own creation. Where he dreamed of changing the world with the misguided vision of an insulated youth. Where he ate, slept, and laughed for the first fourteen years of his very long life.

It's a drop in the bucket, now, and looking at it this time doesn't produce the same emotions as it did so long ago. Instead, he just feels an emptiness, a sense of detachment. It is someone else's home now. It has not been his in any meaningful way for a long time, a transfer of ownership occurring with every brick that was replaced, every layer of paint splattered on. A blessing and a curse in equal measure, he supposes, to feel this way.

He's been there a few minutes—reality almost lost to him as he tries to remember exactly how his mother used to quirk her eyebrows at them and finds he can't—when he suddenly realizes that he's not alone, a thousand years of dangerous situations training him to notice and believe the prickling feeling on the back of his neck.

But when he turns, he just sees Joe, hands in his pockets, watching him intently. His face is thrown half in relief by a nearby streetlamp, and he blinks for a moment, marveling at how beautiful his Yusuf is, how entirely dear.

Joe doesn't ask what Nicky is doing here, or why he's not getting the sleep they need before the drop tomorrow. He simply joins him, and they stand there in quiet contemplation for a few moments, just being together in front of this unspectacular building.

Finally, "Is this where Nicolotto grew up?"

Nicky finds himself nodding. "It was not much back then, either. Less, even."

Joe studies the place again in the flickering light of the streetlamps.

"It should be a museum," he declares, and Nicky scoffs.

"Every house in Italy could be in a museum if you think having old bones warrants a spot there."

"Ah, but not every house was your house," says Joe.

"The person who came from here was no good," mutters Nicky. For all the shiny, fleeting memories of childhood, he wasn't: he was prejudiced, closed minded, convinced of his own superiority, taught to hate instead of love. It took dying several times—several dozen—to figure that out.

"None of that, ya Habib albi. That person needed to live," says Joe, fiercely, "needed to die, needed to be, so that I could meet you." Nicky ducks his head, but Joe's only just beginning, and he continues emphatically, "His existence is a miracle I praise every day, because every moment in time had to happen exactly as it did so that I would meet you, so that we might exist together. If this is the house where you grew up, I praise the blocks that made it stand, so that you might sleep each night within it; I praise the stones on the ground that absorbed your footfalls; I praise the herbs that grew on the windowsill and sweetened the air of each breath you drew in. This place, flawed though it may be, brought me you."

Yusuf's poeticism is nothing new, but it still sneaks up on him every time. "Elegant bastard," Nicky curses, several tears tracking down his cheeks, and reaches out, cups Joe's face tenderly and pulls him in for a desperate kiss.

A millennia and his lips are still tingling, a millennia and Joe's kiss is still tender, life-affirming, a question and an answer and a beautiful, delicate promise all at once.

Even when they break apart, they remain in each other's space, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, hands resting on cheeks.

It's not as though they've been apart for any vast stretch of time recently, but Nicky still takes a moment to relish in Joe's presence, ground himself in the warmth of Joe's skin under his fingertips. It's on a deep inhale as he clears his mind that the idea comes to him, and he flicks his eyes open to meet Joe's.

"Yallah ya hayati."

"Ila al-funduq?"

"Not yet," Nicky says. He links his arm through Joe's. "I want to show you something else, first."

Nicky lets his feet guide them, and together they walk the remnants of the neighborhood of Nicky's youth, as he tells Joe about the merchant who lived in that house, and the shop on this street that sometimes gave the neighborhood children sweets when the owner was in a good mood. He allows himself to reminisce, finally stops holding back the wave of wistfulness and sadness and displacement and fondness—complicated and messy—as he narrates these long gone trivial bits of his childhood to Joe. The eastern sky is smudged with a little pink by the time the arrive back at the pensione for a few quick hours of sleep.  

*

It is easier the next morning, a weight off his chest, the itchy eyes that come with a lack of sleep a small price to pay. When they go to collect the dossier, they trod part of a route he thinks that he used to take to go to the butcher's shop for his mother.

"I got into a fight in that alley," he says aloud, as the memory springs to life for the first time in centuries, triggered by the curve of the stone at the corner of the building.

"My Nicolò?" asks Joe dramatically, pretending to be shocked. "In a fight?"

"It wasn't much of one," says Nicky, the ghost of a smile on his face. He can't remember what the fight was about, anymore, or the name of the boy he got in a scuffle with. Dario? Dante? It doesn't come to him. Just the kiss of pain that came with his split lip and bruised cheekbone.

"Of course it wasn't," says Joe. "You had not yet met me."

Nicky snorts, but Joe isn't wrong. To this day, and even counting the many missions Andy has sent them on, some of his most intense fights were against Joe, before they realized they were far better suited as lovers than enemies.

"I have a secret," he says in a low voice, and when Joe turns to look at him, he continues, "I do not even think I won."

Joe's laugh rings out along the cobblestone street.  

*

Genova, once upon a time, was home, but that was a long time ago. Places are vessels for memory and nostalgia, reminders of the people we have known and the people we have been. Places have power, but something you learn with time is that, powerful as they may be, home is not always a place.  

As they pull out of the city with the dossier tucked in his bag, Joe at the wheel and hands laced together over the gear shift, Nicky feels something within himself quiet. Genova still means something to him and probably always will, but it is softer now, more approachable, a collection of memories he is reconciling with and not a cavernous hole to be avoided. He is content with filing it away as home, once instead of the dour no longer home he's thought of it as for so long.

After all, it is Yusuf, dear Yusuf, who is home, who has been for nearly a millennia now. His eyes are vessels for memory—their brightest, happiest moments, and also the tragedy and hardships they have faced together—and his soft smile carries its own nostalgia, even as it is his beacon of hope. Home is a patchwork of days and nights and soft whispers traded between them, a constellation of moments traced across his skin, the invisible story of their love etched within their souls.

Nicky lifts up their intertwined fingers and kisses Joe's hand, and when Joe glances over at him, he smiles softly, a thousand beautiful memories refracted in Joe's eyes. Home, indeed.

***

[sondepoch]

XXIII: Saeran's Route (Y/N)

Where Futures Begin

Life used to be simple for you. Peaceful. But the Savior had other plans for you, and in moments, she ruined what you thought was your one shot at happiness. Blinded by anger, you escaped the Mint Eye, but that triggered a series of events that would bring you further into the world of brothers Saeran and Saeyoung. And further into the twisted world of your love for them.

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

MASTERLIST

When it came to formalwear, you'd only ever seen Saeran in his black suit, back at the Mint Eye.

And he, your usual believers' robes and the magenta dresses that Rika had forced you to wear.

As such, it was a pleasant surprise for the two of you to see each other the morning of the RFA party—Saeran, in a white tuxedo selected by Saeyoung, and you, in a delicate (f/c) dress that hung at your knees.

"You look beautiful, princess." Saeran pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as soon as the two of you stepped out of the car. He'd been eyeing you since you slipped the dress on, but had evidently held back in all your haste to arrive at the party. Now that the three of you were here, though, he seemed to pay no mind to the venue, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

"Your suit," You mumbled into Saeran's lips, eyes closed and unable to hold back a smile. "You look perfect in it."

If he heard your compliment, though, Saeran made no indication of such, ignoring even his brother's pleas for the three of you to come on and get inside already.

Finally, when you were breathless (and just a little needy) from the kiss, he released you.

"All right, let's go."

As you followed the twins into the party hall, you couldn't help but sigh at Saeran's inexplicable ability to kiss you as if he'd never kissed you before, and then act completely normal the next moment, as if nothing had happened.

He really doesn't know what he does to me, you realized with an amused smile. Though that only makes him more precious.

You entered the party hall, listening absentmindedly to Saeyoung's chatter as he talked to you about the previous parties that had been hosted. In truth, you didn't care much. All that mattered was the present, and the fact that this party hosted would directly help everyone who had been touched by the Mint Eye's distorted ways.

After this party, everything would go back to normal.

Everything.

All the believers and disciples would disband, find new paths to take in society. Rika herself was apparently under the care of V himself, and would also be given a chance to heal from the wounds she'd inflicted upon herself and others. And, perhaps most importantly, you and Saeran would finally be able to continue your relationship in peace. The Mint Eye would be a thing of the past, leaving only an unbound future for you to march into.

"Ah! Saeran, (Y/N), you made it!" You turned to see the calm smile of V. "I hope you'll both stay til the end of the party. I have a small surprise planned at the end that I'm sure you'll both enjoy."

"Saeyoung has decided that he won't leave until even the party cleanup has finished, so we'll definitely be here a while." You smiled warmly at the man who, somewhat inadvertently, had helped free you from your old life.

"That's good to hear. How have the two of you been faring in Saeyoung's bunker?"

The next few hours passed like that. Small chatter with the various guests, Saeran pulling you off to the side every now and then to whisper in your ear or to kiss you, Saeyoung pulling you two back into a new conversation.

When you escaped to the bathroom, you ran into MC, who seemed rather uncomfortable to be caught alone in your presence, especially now that she knew the full story about everything that had happened. She was by no means kind in her words, but her halfhearted "We should talk sometime" seemed like an unspoken offer to make amends. It wasn't anything tangible, but you suspected that, if things continued down that route, there might come a day when the two of you would be acquaintances. Maybe even friends.

You had the pleasure of meeting the people Saeyoung worked with at the RFA: from Yoosung, the blonde college student (who you learned was Rika's cousin) to Jumin, the executive corporate heir of some company that you recognized the name of from your orphanage days.

"V, isn't it time you began the final event?" A man named 'Zen' asked.

"Ah, you're right." V smiled and bowed his head lightly. "I hope you'll all excuse me."

Before he could go, though, Jumin spoke up.

"Truly, V? You're positive that you want to sell your pictures for this event?" The black-haired man seemed skeptical, and for good reason. You'd heard from Saeyoung that V's pictures were sought after in the industry, and selling them at this specific event (noble as the cause was) might not have been the best decision for the man's career.

"As things stand, this event hasn't raised enough finances to help all those affected by the Mint Eye. If selling my pictures can play a role in sealing this chapter of Rika's past...I'm sure she'll be much better for it."

"You really still want to be with her after everything she did to Saeran and (Y/N)?" Saeyoung's question was fueled more by curiosity than anger, or any past resentment, but it made V stiffen nonetheless.

"I understand that everyone has mixed feelings...but Rika is just as broken as her followers, maybe even more. I...I just want to help her heal. And hopefully, this time, things will be different. She now has the support of her family, after all." V smiled lightly and glanced at Yoosung. Upon hearing the word 'family,' the blonde seemed to burst with energy, his smile doubling in intensity.

As V walked toward the stage, leaving you all, you couldn't help but hear Saeyoung murmur somewhat wistfully, "At least Rika brings Yoosung happiness."

And as much as the woman had wronged you, you couldn't help but agree. The blonde boy seemed to radiate joy—and after being separated from Saeran only to reunite, you would recognize the look in his eye anywhere: bliss. Bliss and relief, at reattaining that which was once lost.

Before you could dwell on the matter further, though, V's clear voice echoed through the room. Instantly, all chatter ceased, and the guests turned their attention upon him.

Well, most guests.

As V politely thanked everyone for attending the party and spoke about the important sponsors, you turned to Saeran.

"How are you feeling?" You kept your voice low so that only he could hear you, knowing how mixed his feelings still were on V and this whole situation.

"Not as bad as I thought things would be. Better, since you're by my side." Saeran smiled softly down at you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You couldn't help but lean into his touch when he laced his fingers in yours.

You wanted to say more, perhaps thank Saeran for even agreeing to come here in the first place with you, but before you could, the sound of cheering erupted all over you.

Oh.

V had begun the auction.

You watched as, all around you, people began bidding for his work. Indeed, you understood why the demand for his pictures was so high. As V unveiled album after album, you began to realize why he was a world-renowned photographer.

"Ah, this collection is one he's been asked to sell countless times. I'm glad he's finally releasing it to the public," Saeyoung murmured from next to you, providing you tidbits of information with each new album.

You watched in awe as four albums were revealed and sold, the first album sold off separately in pieces, but the others bid upon as full sets—and couldn't help but let your breath catch in your throat as each new picture was revealed.

Art.

There was no other way to describe it.

V's camera didn't just capture moments and scenes: he captured emotions.

The first album, Flowers in Laughter, left you shook with its brilliance—breaking down any questions you might have had in mind over V's capabilities.

The second, Myriad Memoir, almost scared you with how much raw emotion it brought forth.

When you saw the third, you almost forgot to breathe: each picture in Glass over Truth seeming to resonate with not just your heart but memories you thought long buried.

And even when your eyes settled over Observing Lies, when you were so confident that nothing else could shake you, your bottom lip trembled as you continued glancing from picture to picture.

You felt your heart rise and fall as each album took you on an emotional rollercoaster, bringing you to lows and highs, showing you sorrow and joy, and the delicate smidgens of hope buried underneath it all.

Truly, you couldn't look at a single one of his pictures and bear to tear your eyes away.

Your heart wouldn't let you.

And that, perhaps, was why when V's final album, was revealed, your entire body felt like it was short-circuiting.

"This album is a product of my most recent work. As many rumors have been circulating, my eyesight is indeed beginning to fail. But it is known that, in my work, I aim to photograph more than what our eyes can see—I photograph what the heart feels, and immortalize it. Which is why, despite my decreasing capabilities of vision, even I am not so blind as to fail to recognize the pure love that these individuals have in their hearts."

V pulled back the curtain that was revealing the final set of pictures, and Saeran's grip over your hand instantly tightened.

"This collection is my most prized work, a culmination of everything I sought to capture when I first decided to be a photographer. I call this album: Where Futures Begin."

Without even formally opening the bidding, people were already shouting numbers—every soul in the room wanting to own this masterpiece collection.

Because no matter how brilliant all V's previous works were, this album put them all to shame. There was no mistaking it: the angles and light and object organization left nothing to the imagination: looking at these pictures, even the biggest fools would have to see what V had managed to capture so beautifully.

You stared in awe.

Each image in the album was filled with the purest emotion: love.

Each image in the album was of you.

You and Saeran, to be specific.

You gazed at the first picture. The two of you were locked in a tight embrace just outside the Mint Eye, seeking not comfort in each others' arms but stability, as if in that time of turmoil the only reliable, unchanging foundation in your lives was each other.

The second image—you didn't even know that V had been present, but looking back it made sense that he would have seen it—was one of where the two of you were in the rain under a single umbrella. At the time, you hadn't even registered that both your outfits were varying shades of grey, but the black-and-white nature of your clothes and the background only made the splashes of color on both your cheeks all the more prominent as you clung to Saeran's sleeve while he gazed down at you adoringly, a rare smile eternalized on his face.

The third, a chaste kiss outside V's apartment when Saeyoung had brought the two of you there to speak with the man. You stared at it in awe, wondering how the image managed to capture the fleetingness of the kiss despite the lasting nature of the picture.

The photographs continued like that, all moments that you had never been aware that V had seen, but captured and developed nonetheless. He had found everything: chaste kisses, abashed glances, sweet laughs, even the wholesome hand-holding that Saeran used to be so averse to. 

By some ridiculous miracle, the man had succeeded in photographing the two of you as Saeran kissed you so passionately just outside the party hall this morning, the fast-paced motion all around you only intensifying the intimacy of the moment when you two stood still to lose yourselves in each other. You couldn't help but wonder when V had found the time to develop a picture so last-minute, given that the moment had happened just hours ago, but found yourself shaking your head. The man, as proven by this album, seemed to work wonders.

There was even a picture with Saeyoung, a snapshot of the three of you laughing, and the dispersal of red hair throughout the image told as much a story as it did reveal the varying types of love in your relationship: brotherly, platonic, and—of course—romantic.

You felt a familiar heat rise to your cheeks as the unmistakable feeling bloomed in your chest. No doubt, every person in the room who was gazing upon those pictures was feeling it too.

Love.

And at the back of your mind, you remembered how V had quietly urged you and Saeran to stay—saying that he had a lovely surprise for you two at the end.

Why, this is the best surprise a person could receive.

You found yourself unable to take the smile off your face, the grin only emboldened by Saeyoung's voice joining on the current bidding war that was going on over this album.

"I want it!" He shouted, overly dramatic as usual. You had to force his hand down to get him to listen, but by then, Saeran was egging him on.

The glint of pride in both their eyes as they gazed upon your and Saeran's love immortalized almost prompted you to let the brothers do as they pleased, but you finally found your voice.

"No, guys." You forced them both to look you in the eye amidst all the chaotic bidding. "V called this album Where Futures Begin for a reason."

It was only then that they seemed to recall the album name, and it was then that they understood the meaning of your words.

Where futures begin. But not the future itself.

The album would go home to the house of a wealthy individual, likely one who didn't have the same love in their life as the three of you had in yours'. But that fact wouldn't matter to you. It shouldn't.

Because you had your whole lives ahead of you. Lives that were finally free of the past, no longer rooted in pain or misunderstandings or misery.

This album was V's gift to the three of you. It was a Congratulations! present in advance, commemorating the balance of love that the three of you would be sharing from that day and every day onward. Through thick and thin, that would become the new constant in your lives: the emotion that V had selected when he first saw the way you and Saeran gazed into each others' eyes. Love.

And while others would get to enjoy the sight of where your future together began, you all would have something so much better: the actual future.

At long last, you had finally reached a state where no one else would be able to steal that future away.

No, that future belonged to you, Saeran, and Saeyoung. No others.

A flame ignited in your heart at the thought, fanned by sudden thoughts of having to go through life without either of the boys that you'd grown so dependent on.

Though as you gazed upon their understanding faces and knowing smiles, you realized that there was no need to fear.

These two boys were your future.

Nothing would ever be able to take that away from you.

Fin.

MASTERLIST

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

Word count: 2.7k

Notes: Wow. It feels so bittersweet, that this (my first series ever) is coming to a close after a total of 29 chapters, but it fills me with happiness that i actually succeeded in getting this done. I'm thankful to you guys for reading this, because I never would have been able to complete this otherwise. Thank you for sticking with me, thank you for commenting, thank you for liking, thank you for reading. It's been such a ride (four whole months!) and while this journey is over, i hope that you'll join me in the next fic :) I hope you enjoyed this series, and I hope that you have an absolutely wonderful day. <3

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Forged Through Fire (8/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

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Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [AO3]

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Forged Through Fire

Eight

Trisha could tell something wasn’t right just a split second before Van’s hold on her hand tightened. She glanced across at him; he was still looking straight ahead but his shoulders were set and tense.

“Secret police?” she hissed. 

“Yes.”

Van had something of a sixth sense when it came to spotting the secret police. He’d been avoiding the authorities ever since he’d first come to Amestris and that avoidance had only increased in scope after the current regime had come to power. 

“How many?”

“Two behind, one dead ahead.”

Trisha looked at the man all in white coming towards them. As dapper as he looked, he was walking just a little too quickly to be casual, and he wasn’t going to waver from his course. Definitely secret police. Why did Amestris even need a secret police force? There were military police on practically every street corner.

“Trisha, take the next corner and double back to the bar, I’ll meet you there.”

“Van…”

“It’s me they want, and I’ve got a better chance of holding them off.”

She could feel the alchemy beginning to spark on his fingertips, and she squeezed his hand tightly. 

“Be careful.”

They’d had to avoid both the regular and the secret police many times over the last few years, but this was their closest call yet. It was a game of cat and mouse, whether they would reach the alley that was Trisha’s exit point before the man in white did. Trisha’s heart was beating painfully in her mouth. It was down to the wire.

Van shoved her down the alley as they got to it, and Trisha forced herself not to run or to look back as she heard footsteps stop and the man in white begin to speak. 

“Mr Hohenheim, I believe. That was quite the performance in the park the other day. I know several people who would love to hear about it.”

She didn’t hear Van’s response, but she heard the snap of his alchemy and the creak of the ground reshaping itself beneath her feet. 

Then there was a massive bang: explosive alchemy at its finest. It threw her off her balance and she couldn’t help but look behind her. The man in white was brushing dust off his coat, rubble settling all around. Van was on his knees, winded; one of the others who had been following them had taken advantage of the confusion to punch him in the stomach. 

“I thought you were a healer, not a fighter, Mr Hohenheim.”

The ground was creaking again, red sparks flying off Van’s fingers even as the other secret police held his arms behind his back to cuff him. The man in white looked startled, and instead of a witty comeback, he just nodded to his associates. 

“Bag him.”

The ground started to shake and rumble again, but it was too late. A car had screeched to a stop beside them, and two more secret police had got out, wrestling a black bag over Van’s head. Trisha could smell the chloroform. 

“Van!” She pressed her hands over her mouth, but the damage was done and the man in white was coming towards her as Van was bundled into the back of the car. 

Trisha ran. She knew all the back alleys of Central City like the back of her hand, and she hoped she’d be able to lose her pursuer in the murky, dark streets. She and Van always had an escape route, no matter where they were. She stumbled, one shoe flying off into the shadows. She left it, yanking the other one off and continuing to run. She could hear the man in white’s pounding footsteps behind her, but it didn’t sound like he was gaining. Hopefully, she had the advantage of familiar territory. 

She knew that she was coming up on the Narrows, a series of tight turns and doglegs, the slum buildings packed in so tightly that not even the strong full moonlight could force its way down. If she was going to lose him, here would be best. 

Trisha turned at the entrance to the alley labyrinth and lobbed her shoe at the man in white, scoring a direct hit in his face. He swore and staggered back, but she was already off again, weaving in and out until the only sound she could hear was her own panting. It was a long route to double back to the bar safely, but as much as she wanted to get there and get help as soon as possible, she forced herself to stick to the path. 

At last she came to the back door, marked with a faint symbol showing it as a safe haven for drinkers and alchemists alike, and she started pounding. Even if everyone else had gone home, surely Riza would still be there.

“Please!” She felt her skin split and bleed, but she kept on hammering. “Please let me in!”

She stumbled forward as the door opened, falling into Chris’s arms. 

“Trisha? What’s going on?”

“They’ve got Hohenheim!”

She heard Roy swear and saw Hughes pull him back from rushing straight out of the door, which Chris closed and bolted behind her. It seemed like the entirety of Roy’s group was crowded into the corridor, but they dutifully hurried back into the bar as Riza helped Trisha stumble along. Her legs were on the verge of turning into jelly and her lungs felt like they were on fire. Riza settled her in a chair, and then there was a large glass of brandy in her hands. 

“Ok, Trisha, tell it from the top,” Chris said. “And where are your shoes?”

“We got jumped by the secret police. Van probably could have held his own if one of them wasn’t an explosives alchemist. They black-bagged him. The alchemist – at least I think it was the alchemist – tried to follow me but I decked him with a shoe and lost him in the Narrows.”

“We’ve got to get him out.” Roy was pacing up and down with such ferocious purpose Trisha thought he’d wear a hole in the floor. “Secret police headquarters are in the basement under Central Command, not that they like us to know that.”

“Roy, you are not launching a one-man assault on Central Command!” Chris snapped.

“It’s not one-man!” The chorus of all the rest of the group was heartening, but Trisha shook her head. 

“No, he’s got no Amestrian papers, remember? They won’t take him for due process at headquarters with unlicensed array-less alchemy and no paperwork.”

Falman winced. “Yeah, he’s heading straight for the void.”

Hughes smacked him upside the head. “Very helpful, Falman.”

“Which makes it even more imperative that we get him out right now.” Roy was heading towards the door again, and Trisha yelled out.

“I’m not worried about him ending up in the void!”

Silence fell, and everyone looked at her. The void was the secret police firing squad yard. No one knew exactly where it was, and it was generally accepted as the worst possible fate you could find in Amestris. 

“I’m not worried about him potentially being shot! I’m more worried about what happens when they shoot him and he doesn’t die!”

X

“I’m going to ask you again. Where are you from?”

The man in white did not look anywhere near as threatening with a broken nose and blood splattered over his once-pristine suit, and Hohenheim recognised Trisha’s handiwork. She’d always had a good throwing arm. 

The interrogation room that he’d come round in seemed to be pretty standard, not that he’d made a habit of frequenting them in the past. He looked down at his hands, cuffed into standard alchemist wooden stocks which were chained to the table. 

Ordinarily that wouldn’t be enough to stop him, but the chloroform was still making him woozy, and he knew he wouldn’t have enough control not to bring whatever building he was in down on top of him. There was also the fact that whilst the man in white did not look as threatening now, he was still an alchemist and an explosive one to boot, which made the playing field far different to if he’d just been dealing with standard secret police officers. 

Also, whilst he did not look as threatening with a bloody nose, being hit in the face with a shoe hadn’t done anything for his temper. 

“I told you,” Hohenheim said levelly. “I’m not from anywhere.”

The man in white leaned in close to his face.

“You’ll make things a lot easier for yourself if you co-operate, Mr Hohenheim.”

Hohenheim raised an eyebrow. 

“I fail to see how that can possibly be true. You’re going to execute me whether I co-operate or not, so I’ll continue being unco-operative until that happens.”

He was expecting the slap, but it still stung, and he sighed, feeling the crackle of innate alchemy healing the bruise before it bloomed. 

“You can keep doing that as much as you like but it’s really not going to make any difference, I assure you.”

The man in white sneered. “You’ve got a mouth on you for someone who’s wanted for three offences that carry the death penalty. But don’t worry, your little lady friend will be joining you in the yard once we track her down. Aiding and abetting a fugitive and all that.”

Hohenheim felt the sparks crackle over his fingertips, and he willed himself to keep his composure. The longer he could keep the man in white talking, then the more time passed before he went after Trisha. 

The man in white scoffed. “Not so smart now, are you?”

“Thank you, Major Kimblee. I’ll take it from here.”

The man in white looked up as the new voice entered the room, and he nodded deferentially, leaving without another word.

Hohenheim recognised the voice. Everyone in Amestris would have recognised the voice, they heard it making patriotic speeches over the radio often enough. He wasn’t even all that surprised that Fuhrer Bradley had come to question him in person, although he knew that was hardly an honour afforded to any normal rogue alchemist. Hohenheim had long since accepted that he was nothing close to normal at all. 

The Fuhrer sat down at the other side of the table, leaning forward and clasping his hands together. In any other circumstances, it would have seemed more like he was about to have a friendly chat than conduct an interrogation. 

“Please do excuse the major, Mr Hohenheim. Since you managed to foil his carefully crafted mission to eliminate Lieutenant Hughes, he’s been rather out of sorts.”

Hohenheim said nothing, steadfastly staring him down. He seemed so genuinely affable, and Hohenheim knew that it was all a front. He wasn’t even trying to lull him into a false sense of security, or play good cop, bad cop with Kimblee. This was just the way Bradley was and always had been, all throughout his meteoric rise to power that Hohenheim had witnessed every step of. 

“Still, I’m very glad to have this opportunity to speak to you, Mr Hohenheim. As I’m sure you know, I take a very keen interest in all forms of alchemy that are practised within Amestris. I like to know the talents that I have at my disposal should I ever need them. Naturally, when I heard of your remarkable, and dare I say it, unique talents, I had to see for myself. Our library contains a vast assortment of registered circles and arrays for all kinds of alchemy, but I have never yet come across a form of alchemy that does not need an array at all.”

Bradley smiled, and there was no longer anything affable in it. That smile was the stuff of nightmares. 

"In fact, according to Major Kimblee, not only were you able to perform alchemy without an array, you performed it without even moving. It makes me wonder why we’ve kept you in those cuffs if that’s the case, but better safe than sorry, eh?” He steepled his fingers. “We also need to take into consideration the fact that the major’s associates gave you quite the roughing up whilst taking you into custody, and yet you don’t seem to have a mark to show for it. Not even a scratch.”

Bradley stood then, as suddenly as if he’d been shot out of a cannon, and Hohenheim heard the snikt of his sword being drawn as he walked around behind Hohenheim’s chair. 

The blade smarted against his cheek, drawing blood, and Bradley gave a soft hum of satisfaction as the alchemy crackled and healed him automatically. He walked back around to his seat, wiping the blood off his blade with a handkerchief and settling himself comfortably again. 

“Really, a most remarkable individual. You know, Mr Hohenheim, I believe you’re correct when you say you come from nowhere.”

He snapped his fingers, and Hohenheim felt the bag being yanked back over his head. 

He heard Bradley’s voice fading out as he gave into the sweet stink of chloroform again. 

“Take him to the Fifth.”

X

For a good five minutes after Trisha’s bombshell dropped, a screaming silence reigned supreme in the bar. Roy had given up attempting to leave and find Hohenheim by any means necessary and he sank back into his chair, attempting to digest what Trisha had just said.

“Trisha…” Riza was the first to speak, her voice harsh and strangled with shock. “What do you mean?”

Trisha didn’t reply for a few moments, and Roy was surprised when she addressed herself to him. 

“Roy, you’ve known Hohenheim for a long time. You’ve known him since you were a teenager. Chris, you too, you’ve known him a good ten years. Has he aged in that time? Has he got any grey hairs, any new laughter lines? Has he got any scars? Has he changed at all in physical appearance?”

Roy’s stomach started to churn as he shook his head. Hohenheim had never looked any different to how he had looked when Roy had last seen him just a couple of hours ago. 

“Well, fuck,” Chris said softly. “Bradley’s just found himself an actual immortal.”

Roy pressed his hands down flat on the table to try and mask how much they had started to shake with the revelation. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Trisha, I just… How? How old is he, for a start?”

“We don’t know exactly, but at least four hundred and fifty years.” Trisha sighed, staring down at the last drops of brandy in her glass. Roy got the feeling that they’d all need a measure after everything was explained. “I don’t know how much of this he would want you to know, but if you’re going to help him, you need to know it. He’s never told his story to anyone else before, and he’s lived so long alone because of it. It’s the reason he has no paperwork. It’s not that he’s from another country and he’s here illegally. The country he comes from doesn’t exist anymore. Van is the last Xerxian.”

“Nowhere,” Riza said softly. Roy glanced over at her. “The first time I met him, when he fixed up my back. I asked him where he was from, since he said he wasn’t from Xing. He said nowhere. And I guess that’s true, now.”

“Wait. The last Xerxian. He’s from Xerxes, as in, the place that was wiped out overnight in an event that created the Philosopher’s Stone which is supposed to grant immortality.” Hughes began leafing through all his paperwork again. “Are you telling me that the Philosopher’s Stone never went to Xing and that Hohenheim has it?”

Trisha shook her head. “No. Hohenheim doesn’t have the Philosopher’s Stone. He is the Philosopher’s Stone. After the event, the Philosopher’s Stone did indeed make its way to Xing with some merchants, but they didn’t carry it out of there, it walked on its own two feet. It’s ruby red, but it’s not a rock. The elixir of life runs in his veins.”

Suddenly, everything about the night that Hughes was shot started to make sense. The Philosopher’s Stone was the most powerful alchemic tool that existed. Naturally, if Hohenheim was the Philosopher’s Stone he’d be able to perform the most powerful forms of alchemy there were, without a circle, without any motion, plunging his hands through Hughes’s skin and into his flesh to heal him. And the slashes he’d made into his own palms, his own blood dripping and helping to heal what should have been a mortal wound with the elixir of life. 

“How did it even happen?” Hughes asked. “I assume it has to do with the event; but how do you even become a Philosopher’s Stone?”

“I don’t know the full details.” Trisha gave a long sigh. “Van doesn’t like to talk about it. You wouldn’t either, if you’d been through what he’s been through. Every single person in his entire country died in the space of a minute thanks to the actions of one greedy king who wanted the impossible. Every single person except Van, because every single person dying was what made him immortal. And he has had to live with that for over four centuries, knowing that there was nothing he could have done to stop it.”

“Atticus.” Hughes grabbed the paper he’d been looking at earlier. “According to this, Atticus made the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Yes.” Trisha’s voice was soft and sorrowful, and when she looked up, Roy could see that she had started to cry. “Van was born into slavery in Xerxes. Atticus was his master. He’s never told me exactly what happened, but Atticus used him in experiments to create the elixir of life. One experiment went horribly, horribly wrong.”

Roy shivered. He’d bet good money that he knew exactly what that experiment was. The human transmutation circle from the book that Breda and Fuery had shown him floated back to the forefront of his mind. Human transmutation was forbidden to perform, the ultimate taboo among alchemists. 

Maybe the desolation of Xerxes was the reason why. 

He started to look at it from a different angle, a far more horrible angle. Human transmutation was forbidden for alchemists to perform, and if Atticus had performed it, then he had indeed paid the ultimate price. But what of the human who was being transmuted – likely against their will? What kind of horror would Hohenheim have gone through if that was what had happened to him?

One thing was for sure – there was no way that he was letting Bradley get his hands on Hohenheim.

He looked over at Trisha, sobbing silently in Rebecca’s arms as the rest of the group looked at each other with desperate eyes. Roy knew that they were all thinking the same thing. They needed a plan, and fast. The urgency of the situation, and the stomach-churning sight of Trisha, and the chill threat of Hohenheim’s unknown fate all galvanised him into action. When push came to shove, he was a military man and he had civilians to protect and subordinates looking to him for leadership. 

“Right. Here’s what we’ll do. Falman, you’re the paperwork master, you’ve got access to all the records. This probably isn’t on any records, but the secret police still have to submit timecards like everyone else and their car mileage and fuel expenditure is on record somewhere; see if you can find out where they’ve taken Hohenheim from that. Fuery, can you patch into their channels and see if you can pick up any kind of chatter? They usually use code when they’re on the phone or on radio – Breda, that’s your area.”

“I can’t get into the radio rooms at this time of night, I’m not cleared for that level of access,” Fuery pointed out. 

“Not a problem.” Chris held up a bunch of keys. “I was beginning to think I was being overly paranoid when I invested in that kit, Roy. I’m glad it has a use now. You can set up in the office, Fuery.”

Fuery and Breda followed her out to the back rooms, and Roy continued.

“Havoc, take Trisha home and keep her safe; if she was with him when they bagged him then they might come looking for her as a loose end. Armstrong, you’re with me. Hughes, you’re supposed to be dead,” he added when Hughes opened his mouth to protest at not being given a task. “All right team, let’s move out and get Hohenheim back.”

No one argued the matter, all of them jumping into action without a word or a second thought. Hohenheim had been an institution at the bar for as long as any of them had known the place existed, and like Roy, none of them could bear the thought of anything happening to him. 

Especially not now, knowing what he had already been through in his long life.