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ibijau · 3 years

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chap 4 of the modern xisangyao, also on AO3

Meng Yao faces his past and his future

Meng Yao screams upon seeing the face of those two intruders, and nearly stabs himself in the cheek with his tiny knife as he brings up his hands to cover his mouth.

He knows these men.

They killed him, once.

The one in blue chopped off his arm.

That one in red destroyed his reputation, exposed the darker sides of him for all to see, leaving him no choice but to die.

And Lan Xichen, of course, dealt the fatal blow.

Three men in this desolate house with him. Three murderers. Or is it really three? After all, none of this would have happened without…

Meng Yao, who refuses to fall to his knees like Lan Xichen out of sheer pride, sobs. He doesn’t know when, exactly, he started crying. But his face is now wet with tears and snot under his hands and his breath fogs up the blade of his knife. He hasn’t cried like this since his mother died.

In every life he’s lived, she has died too early.

A curse bound to repeat itself, a punishment for everything Meng Yao ended up doing after she died in that first life, and the second, and the third, and…

Somewhere a thousand miles away, heavy footsteps climb up stairs two, three at a times, rushed and loud as they never are usually. Meng Yao can’t see through his tears, but he still knows it must be mister Shanzi. A suspicion confirmed when a moment later his employer speaks up, breathless from running up those stairs.

He never was an athletic man, mister Shanzi, not if he could avoid it.

“Don’t hurt him!” Mister Shanzi cries out, trying to run again, only to settle for stumbling along until he’s in front of Meng Yao.

It’s a surprise, and it’s not. Either way, it startles Meng Yao out of his tears. He blinks a few times, until his vision clears. Mister Shanzi is there, shielding him from the other three, arms spread wide as if to better protect him. Meng Yao can’t see his face, but he can imagine the fierce, determined expression on his employer’s face.

His fourth murderer, and yet now Meng Yao feels less scared at last.

The newcomers aren’t impressed with mister Shanzi. The man in white and blue, kneeling next to Lan Xichen, glares up at mister Shanzi. Meng Yao feels he should know his name. He knew it, once, but they haven’t met in many lifetimes.

“You didn’t say,” the man says coldly, eyes darting toward Lan Xichen, still prostrated on the floor, as if he’s remembering as much as Meng Yao does, and enjoys it as little. “You know how much I’ve tried to find…”

“I’ll buy you lunch, Wangji,” mister Shanzi cuts him. “Deal with your brother, I’m taking care of Meng Yao.”

Lan Wangji frowns at this answer.

That’s his name, Meng Yao recalls. Lan Wangji, the one who goes where the chaos is. And the other, then, is Wei Wuxian. Two parts of a whole. Meng Yao thinks he hated them, once. Even before they destroyed him, he hated them for their freedom, for their right to be careless, when he had to measure his every word, his every action. Or perhaps it is just that a part of him always knew they would kill him.

As Meng Yao tries to remember which came first between hatred and murder, he feels mister Shanzi reach for his hands. The knife is taken from him and put away on the nearest surface, which ought to scare him. He knows, though, that no weapon he might yield could protect him, should mister Shanzi have it in mind to murder him again. Meng Yao has never once been successful in defending himself against him.

With this certainty in mind, Meng Yao doesn’t resist as mister Shanzi pulls him away, back to the basement. This, too, reassures him. Mister Shanzi loves his paintings more than anything in the world, more than scamming powerful assholes and overconfident idiots. If he had to kill Meng Yao, mister Shanzi wouldn't do it somewhere that would taint his precious art.

Once they reach the workshop, mister Shanzi gently brings Meng Yao inside and invites him to take the chair while he closes the door, locking it behind them. This too should scare Meng Yao. It doesn’t.

“How are you feeling?” mister Shanzi asks, coming closer but stopping at few steps away from Meng Yao. Giving him space, so he can feel safe. “How much do you remember?”

“I remember dying because of you,” Meng Yao says, falling onto the chair which rolls away from his employer.

Mister Shanzi is unphased, his face showing only polite interest, the way he does when meeting sellers and buyers. With him dressed like this, the neutral expression feels wrong. Funny, almost. Meng Yao would laugh, if he remembered how.

“You killed me several times,” Meng Yao says. It should make him angry. When he looked at Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, he felt unfathomable rage over what they did to him even if he doesn’t understand what, exactly, it is that they did. They only killed him once, though. But mister Shanzi, who he can remember towering over him, holding a blade wet with his blood… “You also saved me, didn’t you?”

Mister Shanzi smiles, if you can call it that.

“I had to find a new way of dealing with you,” he casually admits. “After the first few times, killing you wasn’t as fun anymore.”

“I was a child the last time you killed me,” Meng Yao protests, and maybe there is some anger to be felt over that. He was just a child that one time.

A toddler really, playing in the street with other kids, Meng Yao suddenly remembers. His mother hadn’t quite died yet in that life, but her health had been declining, so he’d been left to his own devices too often. Someone had offered him sweets and he’d been too young to know he should refuse.

He hadn't even gotten those candies before getting his throat slit.

“It was a low point for me,” mister Shanzi admits with a shiver. “At that time, I was... You see, you had killed my brother in the first life in which we met, and in a truly horrible manner too,” he explains, and Meng Yao nods. It rings a bell. A corpse butchered, a melody... “and since he had never reincarnated, I didn’t see why you should get to. I’d always found you as an adult before that, and it was easy to find some failings of yours to excuse killing you. A child though…” He grimaces in disgust, looks down as his hands as if they're still stained with the warm blood of a three years old. “After that, I started reconsidering the way I was doing things. My brother had believed you were worth giving several chances, once, so I thought I’d honour his memory and do the same.”

“I suppose I should be grateful?” Meng Yao asks. “Just as I was supposed to be grateful toward Mingjue.”

Hearing his brother’s name makes mister Shanzi jump. But he’s not mister Shanzi, Meng Yao realises. That was never his true name.

“You’re Nie Huaisang,” Meng Yao says, mostly to himself. “You’re… after so long, and you’re still doing all this for him. I’d murdered the wrong brother, back then.”

Realising what he just said, Meng Yao tenses and throws Nie Huaisang a sharp glance, terrified that he might lash out at the reminder of that crime which has entangled their fates through centuries.

Nie Huaisang turns away, curling up on himself, shoulders shaking. Meng Yao braces himself for an attack, verbal or physical, but instead after a moment Nie Huaisang bursts out laughing, loud and unrestrained.

“Every time!” Nie Huaisang giggles. “Every damn time, you end up saying that! And every time I say that…”

“Da-ge would have been just as fierce in avenging you, so there was no right brother to kill, no right brother to spare,” Meng Yao finishes in a whisper. “I’m not saying that I want to kill you now,” he quickly adds. “I don’t. Not after what I owe you.”

Of course in that very first life, he owed Nie Mingjue, and that hadn’t stopped him. Meng Yao can feel the reek of the terror he’d felt then, stuck between a rock and a hard place, certain he didn’t have a choice. Perhaps he didn’t. Those were different times, and he had promised his mother to be a good son so his father would give him the status he deserved. So she hadn't suffered in vain when raising him.

Meng Yao had tried to be a good son, which had turned him into a poor friend. Not to Nie Mingjue exactly. They weren’t friends anymore by then. But to Lan Xichen, who had suffered first the loss of Nie Mingjue, and then years later the horror of having helped it happen.

And then Lan Xichen had killed him.

Maybe he hadn't been a very good friend either.

“I’m really sorry for this,” Nie Huaisang says. “You’ve always remembered, whenever I’ve taken you in, but it’s never been quite so fast and brutally. And it’s the first time that…”

He trails off, looking over his shoulder toward the door with a mix of dread and longing.

“Lan Xichen,” Meng Yao guesses.

“Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang agrees, before chuckling sadly. “Did you… does he… did he know before coming here, or…”

Meng Yao thinks on it, and shakes his head. He might be deluding himself, but he doesn’t believe Lan Xichen knew, not until they arrived to the Hanshi, not until he saw Nie Huaisang, not until he was confronted by his own brother. It took both of them by surprise.

Meng Yao wants to ask about Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, but doesn’t. It’s not necessary, he realises. Having been in their presence, he can guess that they are more like Nie Huaisang than like him or Lan Xichen. There is just something about those people who no longer die that sets them apart from ordinary humans, even at first glance.

“He was just here about the painting,” Meng Yao explains. “He’s writing a book on… well, on you, I guess.”

The expression on Nie Huaisang’s face is a complicated one, equal part regret and relief.

“Wangji had been looking for him,” he says. “Quite desperately. Well, he found him now, good for him. As for myself, I don’t think I should… well. Well. It doesn’t matter. Lan Xichen made it clear once how he thinks of me, and I know better than to impose myself where I am unwanted. I’ll just disappear for a while, make sure we don’t run into each other. The antics scene was getting a little bothersome anyway. Damn technology, ruining my life. I’ll have to find something else to keep me busy. I guess I’ll have to leave this house, too.”

As he speaks of abandoning the Hanshi, Nie Huaisang looks truly sad. Almost in spite of himself he raises a hand to touch the nearest wall, brushing his fingertips against it as one would a lover.

He's owned this house most of his life, he once told Meng Yao. At the time, Meng Yao had thought his employer had bought it young, or inherited it somehow, meaning he’d lived there for maybe twenty years.

He wonders how long “most of his life” really means.

“Am I fired?” Meng Yao asks instead. A more practical question, and one to which he’s more likely to get an answer.

“Fired?”

“I… I betrayed you. I took someone here without your knowledge.”

Nie Huaisang blinks a few times, then laughs softly and comes to kneel before the chair, taking Meng Yao's hand. His skin his warm, his touch grounding, and Meng Yao, stupidly, wants him to never let go.

“Oh, A-Yao,” Ni Huaisang sighs, squeezing his hand. “Neither of us would ever know how to refuse Lan Xichen anything that he asks. How could I blame you for this? No, you’re not fired.”

Meng Yao lets out a deep exhale.

“I still can’t keep you around anymore,” Nie Huaisang adds, tilting his head slightly. It makes him look like a curious bird. He’d like the comparison, Meng Yao thinks in a panicked effort to not delve on what his former employer just said.

“I won’t betray you again,” he promises, grasping Nie Huaisang's hand tightly, as if that could keep him here.

“If Lan Xichen asks, you will. I don’t think he’ll ask, mind you,” Nie Huaisang says with a smile. “I haven’t seen him since that first life we all shared, and we didn’t part on good terms. You wouldn’t know, you were dead already, but I… well. He did not take kindly to being used as my weapon to kill you, to put it mildly. And now you’re in love with him again, in a world where… well, it’s easier to love him these days, isn’t it?”

“I’m not in love,” Meng Yao says, but the protest sounds hollow as it leaves his lips.

If he’s not in love with Lan Xichen, he’s more than halfway there already. Why else would he have betrayed Nie Huaisang, whom he does love, in spite of how stupid it is? Even without realising exactly what 'mister Shanzi' was, Meng Yao could tell there was something off about the man, something unnatural and dangerous. He's an idiot, though, and loved him all the more for it.

“I’m not in love just with him,” Meng Yao corrects, which startles Nie Huaisang. Good. Meng Yao isn’t quite as cruel as he was in that first life or some of the following ones, but he wouldn’t call himself kind either. If he must suffer, why shouldn’t others do too? “Take me with you. Wherever you’re going, take me with you.”

“No.”

“Do you really think Lan Xichen would still have anything to do with me, now that he remembers?” Meng Yao insists, rising from the chair. Nie Huaisang lets go of his hand and stands up as well, takes a few steps back as if putting distance between them will do anything. “It’s pointless to leave me behind. Take me with you.”

“No. You’re mortal,” Nie Huaisang sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You… I’m not doing that. I’m not involving myself with a mortal. I’ve seen what it does to people like me. I won’t… I can’t allow anything to destroy me like that. Not until I’ve found da-ge again, not until I’ve seen him safe and happy.”

Meng Yao nods, because he understands, because he’d give everything for a chance to see his mother again, would sacrifice anything just to make sure she’s happy. And still, he says again: “Take me with you.”

“No.”

“You’ll need an assistant. You need one. You're useless on your own. You suck at keeping track of appointments, and you still haven’t figured out social media, and… just that, just your assistant.”

“No.”

“I can keep things compartmentalised.”

“I can’t,” Nie Huaisang snaps. “I… I would have let you go soon, anyway,” he adds, more quietly, as if confessing a terrible secret. “You are… I got attached, more than planned. You’re good, in this life. I think the world is finally changing enough to allow you to exist and you’re… but it doesn’t matter. I was always going to let you go, it’s just happening sooner than I’d planned.”

“So I am fired.”

Nie Huaisang grimaces. For a moment, just a second, he looks exactly as old as he is. There’s an exhaustion in his eyes, so deep and ancient it is almost frightening to behold. Centuries after centuries of looking for the same person, of never finding him, of meeting instead his brother's murderer over and over and over again.

“You’re not fired,” Nie Huaisang tiredly insist. “I’m going to continue paying you until you find another job, and I’ll make sure the right people know you’re on the market again, if you want to stay in that line of work. I also don’t mind paying for any school you like. I’ll write you letters of recommendation, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re good even without me, but… but after today you won’t see me again. I just can’t risk it.”

“And if you found your brother again,” Meng Yao suggests, because unlike Nie Huaisang he’s good with new technology. If Nie Mingjue is alive somewhere, he can find him. He will find him. It can’t be a coincidence that Lan Xichen and him met like that, so maybe…

Nie Huaisang shrugs, and shakes his head.

“I’ll never stop looking for him. But I don’t think he’s coming back. I think the damage to his soul was too great, and it was just the end for him. I’ve got to keep looking, but I think there’s nothing to find. So I won’t make promises to you, Meng Yao. I’ll have that decency, at least.”

It’s funny, Meng Yao thinks, how little Nie Huaisang has changed since that first life.

By which he means, Nie Huaisang is still the same dramatic asshole as he used to be, still so wrapped in his own problems that he doesn’t really care about the effect his decisions have on others, because he’s a Nie so of course he’s always right.

It used to drive Meng Yao grazy, in that first life, when he thought all Nie Huaisang had going for him was a good inheritance and a pretty face.

It still drives him crazy right now, when he knows Nie Huaisang is perfectly capable of being more than this, should he feel like it.

Before Meng Yao can insist, there is a knock on the door. They both startle, having half forgotten there are others with them in that house. Nie Huaisang looks panicked for a moment, but quickly gets himself under control. He probably guesses, as Meng Yao does, that it cannot be Lan Xichen, who surely would never reach out to either of them.

That guess turns out to be right. When Nie Huaisang goes to open the door, he finds Wei Wuxian there, who looks… not quite angry as such, but ready to be pushed there if anyone says the wrong thing.

“You still want us to take you away?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Nie Huaisang nods quickly, than shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling.

“Zewu-Jun can’t… If he's coming too...”

“He needs time to digest, and he says that one…” Wei Wuxian nods toward Meng Yao, who flinches on instinct “...called him a taxi, so he’ll make his own way home. Lots to think about. Did you fucking know, Huaisang?”

“Not until today, and I called you right away. You think I wouldn’t have told you, if I’d known? You think I’d have gone anywhere near him by choice?”

Wei Wuxian shrugs, in a manner that seems to imply he doesn’t really know what Nie Huaisang might do about anything.

“What about that one?” Wei Wuxian asks, nodding again toward Meng Yao.

Nie Huaisang shrugs. “He has his car. Wei-xiong, I just want to leave now. Please.”

They do leave. Wei Wuxian glances one last time at Meng Yao, but Nie Huaisang doesn’t look back as he exits the room.

Just like that, Meng Yao finds himself alone, with only paintings and a broken game console for company.

He allows himself a moment of sorrow because, and he can admit this to himself now that it no longer matters, he’d been hoping to spend the rest of his life with either Lan Xichen or Nie Huaisang. Both, if fate chose to be kind to him.

Fate has never chosen kindness, when it comes to him.

So Meng Yao dries his tears, and picks up that shattered console on the floor.

The paintings in this room are worthless to him. Over half are fakes, and even Nie Huaisang, who painted them, doesn’t always recognises just from looking what’s real and what’s not. But the console… well, there’s a guy who lives in Meng Yao’s building who’s made a business of buying broken electronics and either repairing them or scavenging them for parts.

Maybe Nie Huaisang really will continue paying him, or maybe he won’t, but Meng Yao hasn’t gotten where he is in life by counting on the kindness of others.

He’ll sell the console when he gets home.

#xisangyao #sangyao #xisang #xiyao #mdzs #counterfeit au #everyone is a mess with a crush oops #jau writes

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shadowsingerx · 3 years

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Dancing with the Devil

Meave is dead. The Valg Queen is gone. Fenrys should be happy, overjoyed even but he feels numb. The world celebrations, rejoicing in the return of Terrasen, and he pretends to smile. He loves that Aelin is Queen, she deserves to have her kingdom, but he can’t stop how tight his chest feels, surrounded by grief and anger.

He shares a drink with Rowan, flashing him his signature grin but it feels fake, forced even. He wonders if his Queen can feel the sorrow in his heart. Fenrys hopes she can’t. It’s almost too overwhelming for him, he can’t imagine passing it on to Aelin, whose own grief far outweighs his own. “You alright, pup?” Rowan’s known him long enough to see through him but Fenrys shake him off, reassuring him that he’s just tired. It’s not a complete lie, he’s more tired than he’s been in his entire life, his body is exhausted, his magic even more so.

It feels like he’s hit a burnout and there’s a part of him that wishes he had. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with the heaviness clinging to him. He would be able to rest, if it didn’t kill him, Fenrys wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Go find Aelin, I’m fine.”

He hates lying to Rowan, the older fae has been nothing but kind to him, but he already has so much to deal with and the last thing Fenrys wants to do is add something else onto it. Besides it wasn’t like he was about to throw himself off a cliff or anything. He tells himself this as he leans over the railing on the balcony, the wind from the mountains sending a chill through his body.

The war’s been over for three months now, the world is settling into a peace they haven’t had in centuries, Aelin and her court are rebuilding Terrasen and while Fenrys is glad to be apart of it, he feels lost. He can’t shake the broken connection of Connell, not that he wants to. His brother will always be apart of him. He misses him. He hates himself for not being able to do anything to save him, he should have done more. He could have done more had he not be so weak, so powerless.

“The parties inside,” Fenrys doesn’t hear her come up beside him, her blonde hair dances in the wind, framing her face. Aelin has always been beautiful, but being queen has brought an elegance about her that makes her bewitching. She has on a dress of Terrasen green and a crown of flames. “I didn’t think you’d be out here admiring the stars when there are so many admires waiting.” He can feel her heat against his hip as she leans into him, her magic soothing him. “You okay, Fen?” Her question is quiet, as if she’s afraid he might run away.

Unlike Rowan, he can’t lie to Aelin, not after everything they’ve been through. “Did Rowan send you out here?” He doesn’t mean to be snippy, not with her, but he doesn’t have the energy to be anything else.

“When I have ever listened to Rowan?” She asks, giggling. She turns her back to him, her skirt swirling around his ankles, centring him. “You’ve been quiet all day, Fenrys, I didn’t want to push you, I knew you would come to me when you were ready, but you’ve gotten distant and you’re usually the first person on the dance floor.” He almost flinches when she reaches out to grip his hand, her fingers squeezing gently. “Do I need to kill someone?”

Fenrys can’t help the smile that tugs on the corner of his lips, releasing a chuckle of his own. “Not unless you can kill my emotions.” He’s never been so open with someone before, Aelin made it easy, he could bare his entire soul to her and not think twice about it. “Did you know that my birthday is coming up?” He whispers, praying the wind covers his confession.

She turns to him, her eyes settling on point of his ear, Fenrys refuses to met her gaze, he knows the moment he does the tears will start. “Rowan mentioned it.” She says, frowning. “Why didn’t you say anything, Fenrys?” He truly believed if he pretended as if it was just another day it wouldn't hurt as much, but it just tossed him deeper into the pit of darkness he couldn’t pull himself out of.

“I thought not talking about would make it less real.”

It’s been three months and Fenrys hasn’t dealt with his brother’s death. Up until this point he had missions for Terresan to keep his mind occupied, but with all the loose ends tied up his grief is starting to work it’s back in. It feels like he’s drowning.

Ever so gentle Aelin places her hand on his cheeks and forces him to look at her. He expects to see pity on her face but all he sees is understanding. Aelin knows the grief he holds in his heart. Better than anyone. “You’re allowed to miss him, Fenrys.” She says, pulling him back as he goes to pull away. “The connection you shared with Connell is something no one will ever understand. He was your brother, your twin, no one is expecting you to get over his death.”

Subconsciously he feels his body turn toward her, he drops to his knees in front of her, his eyes shutting as he tries to stop the wave of tears. Aelin kneels in front of him, her arms wrapping around him so she could hold him close. “His death was not you fault, Fenrys, don't even try and tell me that you don’t think it is, I’ve seen the look on your face, Connell’s death was Meave’s doing. You did everything you could.” He flinches, his heart breaking. “Connell is lucky to have had you as a brother, Fenrys, I know plenty of people who would have just left him to his fate.”

Many times over he thought of leaving Connell to his fate but he loved his brother too much to subject him to Meave’s torture.

“I wish I could have saved him..” He whispers, his voice getting lost in the fabric of her gown. On any other day she would have killed him for ruining her dress.

“I know and you did everything you could.” Aelin lifts his head, running his fingers through his hair; his body relaxes as she strokes his scalp, the panic slowly leaving his body. “You escaped Meave, Fen, you deserve to have a life, to thrive and be happy. It’s not always going to be easy and there are days that are going to be harder than others but you have an entire kingdom to back you up.

Most important you have me. I wouldn’t have been able to survive Cain had it not be for you. You save me, Fenrys, and I will spend the rest of my life doing the same for you. I love you, you’re my wolf, my guardian and I won't let you drown in your grief.” Aelin wipes the fallen tears off his face and helps him stand, a firey look in eyes. “Now let's go and show these stuck up royals how to dance.”

“I thought I had two left feet?” He mutters, laughing, as he sends her a fake glare.

Aelin winks at him, straightening out his suit with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “Oh you do but that doesn't mean we can’t be show offs.” Her hands hovers at his heart, as if she’s remembering how it had stopped beating. “I never got to thank you, for being there for me, Fenrys.” Her had clenches at his jacket, she's fighting off memories.

It’s his turn to cup her face in his hands, he flashes her a real smile and kisses one of her cheeks. “You’ve never have to thank me, Aelin, you’ve always been my queen and I will follow you to the halls of hell if I need to.”

It takes a moment but she returns the smile, “Good. We better go before Rowan loses his mind with having to entertain a spoiled princess.” She links their arms together before leading him inside, and together they shut the darkness out.

#throne of glass #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys and aelin #kingdom of ash #grief #dealing with emotions #after the war #fenrys x aelin if you squint #fenrys x rowan if you squint #fenrys deserves better #sad wolf boy #fanfic #fanfiction #dealing with trauma #sarah j mass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #aelin galythinius

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el-gilliath · 4 years

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not complete without you

Yeah so I decided to venture into The Old Guard fic with a 6+k fic. This was written for a prompt by @andrea-lyn, who did not want to write it herself but knew that angst and character death is right up my alley, so here we are. A big thanks to my bellowed @winged-fool for the beta.

Though this might be character death, I still find this to be a happy ending. All you need to know is in the tags.

Also includes an immortal dog, and what might be reincarnation.

AO3

Nicky knows his time is up in the most innocent of ways, he stubs his toe against the table in one of their safehouses and it doesn’t immediately stop hurting. Instead, it hurts for hours. His suspicions are confirmed when he cuts himself in the kitchen the day after and the wound doesn’t seal the way it usually does. He hides in the kitchen, cooking for hours until it stops bleeding and he can pretend it isn’t there.

He’s careful the next few days, so very careful, not to let Joe notice that he’s no longer healing. Instead, he watches as Joe spars with Nile, watches his bruises fade into the ether. Instead, he sucks marks into his skin as they make love late at night, admiring them for the three seconds before they disappear. He holds Joe close, distracting him with the sweetest of kisses so he can have another second, minute, hour where they’ll live together for another millennia and neither of their time is up.

He breathes calmly, smiles widely, loves fiercely, the way he always has. He avoids it for three days, allows himself to picture another thousand years with Joe, with Nile, with Booker. The good times they would share and the joy they would experience together, the lives they would save that would go on to save others.

He stops avoiding the minute Joe looks at him with worry. His Joe, his Yusuf, the man he killed countless times before he recognized what was in front of him and loved him fiercely from then on. The man whose love transcends everything, the man he hasn’t needed to speak words to for centuries, couldn’t speak to in the beginning, and now they just understand what the other needs and wants.

The man whose touch still thrills him after all this time.

Nicky closes his eyes, hangs his head, and prays. Maybe there’s no God, and Andy would’ve mocked him for it were she still among them. But he still has faith. Faith gave him Joe, gave him someone so he didn’t have to spend an eternity alone, how can he not still believe.

“Nicoló?”

He can hear the fear in Joe’s voice, feels it deep in his heart as he opens his eyes and looks back at him. God, will the sight of Joe never make his heart stop beating faster, will his short curls never make him want to run his fingers through them? He hopes not, for whatever time he has left.

“Three days,” he replies. He lifts his finger towards Joe, shows him the cut that’s still healing three days later. The cut he’s worked so hard to hide. “It’s my time, Yusuf.”

He knows he should’ve anticipated the wail of grief that escapes Joe as he looks at Nicky’s finger. Knows he should’ve anticipated the complete collapse to the floor the other half of his soul does. Knows he should’ve anticipated his sleek and very quick everything to lounge for a knife from their collection of weapons and slash himself on the arm. Maybe he did anticipate all of it, just like he knows that he needs to let it happen.

He listens as the wails turn louder, watches as Joe slashes his arms again and again in the hopes that his healing won’t set in. Both of them know that it will, but Joe still tries and Nicky still lets him. Watches him try again and again with tears in his eyes and running down his face, his hands clasped tightly together with the sounds of Booker and Nile just outside, asking them what’s going on. He tries to tell them that it’s okay, that they’re good, but he can’t. His world is hurting. His world needs him more than their teammates does right now.

He moves closer when he can. He knows Joe wouldn’t hurt him, but he needs to let his grief out. Nicky’s not going to stop that, he’s had three days to grieve. It’s Joe’s turn now.

He gets close enough to touch Joe and as he stretches out his hand Joe drops the knife immediately, gathering Nicky in his arms as he buries his face in Nicky’s hair.

“Nicoló. Non voglio che mi lasci. Per favore.”

“I’m not leaving you, il mio cuore, not for a long time,” Nicky whispers, moving Joe’s face away from his hair and drying his cheeks with his thumb. “We still have time, mi amore, so much time.”

Joe shakes his head. The grief is so very visible on his face and it breaks Nicky’s heart. “But not as much as we wanted. I cannot continue without you, my heart.”

“You can do whatever you need to. But for now we have time. Anything else will wait,” Nicky replies, giving Joe a soft kiss as he buries his fingers in Joe’s hair as he always wants to. “My immortality might be gone but I’m not gone yet, my Yusuf. I’m not lost to you yet.”

“I wish you would never have to be lost to me.”

“We will deal with this too, as we have dealt with everything else in our life. I swear, I will not leave you before I have to.”

They look at each other, losing themselves in each other as they always do. Nothing will change that, hasn’t in the millennia they’ve been together and it never will. Neither will the force of their kisses, Nicky knows and experiences as he’s drawn into a forceful one. It’s as passionate as always, as loving as always. But tinged with desperation, with sorrow. With loss.

“Yusuf.” Nicky moves away, just slightly, only just enough. “I have not left you. I’m right here.”

Joe nods, the grief on his face disappearing slowly but surely. Nicky knows he’s only hiding it, but he will let him. They will deal with that another time.

“Take me to bed, il mio cuore,” he says, smiling as Joe gets a familiar gleam of heat in his eyes. “I wish to spend the night wrapped in your arms.”

“Then in my arms you shall spend it.”

The next kiss is softer, not as tinged with the despair of the future. It lights his everything on fire, stokes it in his belly the way only Joe can. The way he’s lit it for so long. He cradles Joe’s head, pulling him tighter, closer. Always closer. Joe makes him stand up, walks him backwards to their bed, laying him down slowly as they hit the edge. Their lips never separating. It’s familiar, loving, safe. But still as thrilling as all the other times Joe takes him in his arms and kisses him, still as thrilling as all the other times he undresses him slowly and makes love to him.

Spending the night in Joe’s arms is still the safest place he will ever be.

———

He wakes the next day still cradled in Joe’s arms. They’re naked, the way they prefer to be when they have a room to themselves and everything in Nicky screams to stay there. But the need to talk to Booker and Nile is bigger, though he has no doubts that Booker at least suspects what’s going on. Booker is too smart for his own good at times, as history has shown.

He extracts himself from Joe’s arms, leaning down to kiss his brow and whisper sweet nothings when he makes noises of protest in his sleep. Nicky can only smile at the put open sigh as Joe settles back down, never wanting to be parted from Nicky.

He still leaves him alone in bed, leaving their bedroom and walking downstairs to the kitchen. He knows Booker and Nile are in there before he enters, feels them in his spirit the way he’s always done. He knows they feel him too, their eyes upon him from the second he walks into the kitchen. He has not lost that, still.

“Good morning,” he says smiling. He’s happy to see them smile back. Though he knows they are suspicious, from the way Booker doesn’t completely meet his eyes, or the way Nile’s foot keeps bouncing as if she’s having trouble staying still. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet, Nile wanted to wait for you,” Booker replies, in the open and honest way he’s been since… Then and all that happened.

“Then I will make us some bre-”

“Are you and Joe okay?”

Booker clears his throat pointedly but Nile just waves him off, obviously not concerned in the slightest by whatever plan Booker probably suggested and she said she would go along with. Nile’s quest for the truth has always been something Nicky has admired, loved, about her. It never gets boring with that around.

“We’re good, Nile. As always,” he says as he starts pulling food out of the fridge, finding a fresh loaf of bread Booker probably left to buy early in the morning, the way he always does when the four of them are near Paris. Still so very French, after all this time. Though Nicky isn’t sure he can say anything, he’s never turned less Italiano after all these years of being alive. “It was a rough night, that’s all.”

“That was not just a rough night, he was-”

“Nile.”

Nicky’s eyes find Booker’s, as he speaks up to make Nile stop her questioning. Booker’s eyes are filled with questions, so Nicky nods, just once, short and precise. He watches Booker’s eyes fill with grief, his posture sagging as he takes in the new knowledge of the world.

“What’s going on?”

Nicky smiles, a loving thing that speaks of the family that they are, Booker smiling back in the same way before they both turn to Nile. She looks worried, scared, in a way Nicky wishes she didn’t have to be. She doesn’t deserve to be, but it’s a testament of who they are and what they go through that those feelings never completely disappear. They never will.

“I’m mortal, Nile,” Nicky replies, going to her and crouching down in front of her as he takes her hand. “I stubbed my toe four days ago and it didn’t stop hurting. Then the day after I cut my finger when I was cooking and it didn’t heal.”

“Nicky!” She yells, her voice wrought with fear for him.

“Shh, it’s okay. Last night was Joe finding out. He did not take kindly to the information.”

“You’re dying!”

“No, Nile. I might be mortal but I plan on living a long life still.” He cups her face, smiling in the face of the tears pooling in her eyes. “I am not leaving anyone in this family any time soon. Besides, I could not leave you alone with only Booker, it would be a cruel fate.”

“Haha,” Booker says as he moves to take over the cooking. “You should be happy I do not speak ill of my elders.”

“Since when?” Nile asks sceptically.

“Since now. If Nicky’s mortal, it means he’s officially a priest again, and one has to follow the teachings of the Catholic Church when in the presence of a priest.”

Nicky can’t help but laugh. He hasn’t been a priest in so long and he’s not planning on becoming one again. He’s done far too many unholy things with Joe, and in his long life, for that to be the case. “I do not think the Church would accept me back, Booker, after all we’ve done.”

“That might be, but you still have faith after all this time.” Booker cracks a few eggs into the skillet. “And in your own words, everything happens for a reason. Your faith wouldn’t let you down like that.”

“I don’t think so either,” Nile says. The only one besides him to still have any sort of faith. “It’s not your time yet.”

“No,” he replies. “It is not.”

He gets to his feet, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of Nile’s head before he walks over to Booker, pulling his head down so he can press a kiss to his temple too. Booker swats him playfully, but he knows it’s just for show. Booker accepts the free affection of his family much easier now, knows he needs it to survive and fight the depression he’s always battled. It’s a sign of faith, of love and forgiveness to kiss his temple for Nicky, whenever he can get away with it. It might not be often, but he still enjoys it when he can. The simple affection and kindness come easy for Nicky and Booker deserves to be shown them.

“Why is everyone but me getting kisses from my Nicky?”

Booker snorts at the mock indignation in Joe’s voice. “He keeps giving them to me, how can I refuse.”

Joe mutters under his breath but still moves over and places his own smacking kiss on Booker’s other temple before he moves over and does the same to Nile. Nicky watches Booker’s reaction, how he freezes slightly before continuing to make (almost burn) the second round of eggs, quickly followed by bacon. Joe has shown Booker he’s completely forgiven many times, though the darkness in Booker doesn’t always believe that. Even knowing as he does that he served his penance in more ways than one and none of them hold it against him anymore. Nicky squeezes his shoulder before moving over and joining Joe and Nile at the kitchen table.

It’s an easy morning, simple and quiet, the way many of their mornings have been in the years they’ve been together, but deep down he knows something has changed. He knows his days with them are numbered, knows that he wants to eventually live out the rest of his days away from the action. And him living out his days means that Joe will leave too. Even if he tried to make Joe stay, there’s no way that he will. No way that he would be left alone without him.

“Did Copley the Fourth give us any information on our target?” Joe asks, reaching for Nicky’s hands and tangling them together as Booker brings their breakfast over to the table. Not the easiest way to eat, but Nicky will never say no when Joe wants to be close.

After James Copley there was Elaine Dawson. After Elaine there was Darren Whitaker. After Darren there’s Mustafa “Moose” King. Or Copley the Fourth as they affectionately like to call him. The Copleys are all chosen by their predecessors, happily keeping them secret and helping them stay out of the ether. Merrick taught them a lesson they never wanted to learn, but they learned it well when they had to. And their habit of trusting one person has proven valuable over the years.

Though Nicky has reservations about Nile’s relations with the current Copley. But he knows this is a tale she must discover for herself. He’s had Joe the entire time, how can he begrudge her some happiness.

“His name is Mustafa. And yes, he did. He gave us all the info we needed,” Nile replies. Joe, Booker, and Nicky all share a look, hiding their amusement from the youngest member of their team. All this time and she is still such a 1990s kid. “We still have about two weeks until we can move out, so I’ll monitor with him-”

“I’ll bet you will,” Booker murmurs under his breath, causing Nile to give him a slight smack.

“Until then there’s no harm in us staying here, right?”

“Staying right here, close to your boyfriend. Yes, no harm.” Booker laughs as Nile smacks him again, harder. “We can stay, Nile. The perimeter is secure and so is this house. I promise.”

“Okay, good. We agree then? Two weeks and then we move out.”

“Si.”

———

They spend the two weeks together, being near one another as much as they can. Nicky knows it’s because they want to savour their time with him, in case something happens on the mission they have to see through. In case he actually dies and does not come back. It’s a somber thought, and one he will not entertain for long. It is not his time yet.

He’s still restless, uncertain in ways he hasn’t been in years. Possibly never, but he doesn’t really remember anymore. The last time he felt any kind of nervous was when Andy was mortal. Though a mission was not what killed her, he does not believe that will be his end either.

———

He’s almost wrong. Feels the panic settle deep in his skull as the bullet tears through his leg. Hears Joe yell in fury, as Booker sprints, faster than Booker has ever sprinted, over to him and starts putting pressure on the wound. Sees him and Nile, even Joe, finally accept that he is indeed mortal when the wound doesn’t close.

He decides then and there that if he survives this then he will leave, unless they need a sniper. He wants to live the rest of his years with his Joe, his Yusuf. He doesn’t want to miss out on the things he never thought he would have.

“I was thinking about that time in Malta,” he whispers, hands tangled with Joe’s as Booker patches him up and Nile watches from the side. Ever vigilant, even if they are out of danger.

“Which time in Malta?”

He gives Joe a look, a slight, secretive smile on his face. The smile he knows Joe adores more than almost anything. His kiss is the only thing Joe adores more.

“Oh, that time in Malta.”

“We should go back there. And stay.”

Booker’s hands still for a second, two, before he goes back to wrapping the wound. Nile takes a deep breath, her controlled breathing loud in Nicky’s ears. Joe just looks at him, a bit of the grief he holds inside on his face. But he smiles back, loving and warm as always.

“Yes, let's go back to Malta.”

“Do you guys mind, if we leave?” He asks. He will not leave Booker and Nile alone if they do.

“Not if we can come visit,” Nile replies, her gaze sad but a smile appearing on her face. Booker nods in agreement, short and sure like Booker always is nowadays.

“Any time you like,” Joe says, looking at them both. Nicky watches him catch Booker’s eye as he says the second part of his sentence. “If we don’t see you at least once a year we will come find you, comprendre?”

“Oui. Ce sera mon honneur,” Booker says with obvious relief. “Where in Malta will you go?”

“We have a place.”

———

Nicky understands now, why people who get hurt complain about the lingering aches of time. His foot healed well, exactly the way it should but ten years from that date it still pains him on days with bad weather, when he takes the wrong step or if he sleeps slightly wrong. He’s felt every one of these ten years, from the way his body aches in ways it never has before, to the greys in his hair, to the way Joe looks at him. He’s never doubted that Joe loves him, he doubts it less now, their simple lives in their cottage a testament to that love and devotion.

Their cottage is a place of emotion and has been since Nicky acquired it in the late 1800s. It’s been ‘inherited’ down his family, all of them versions of his alias of course. But from Nicolò de Genovo to Nicky Genova it’s still his. His place to call home with Joe. Secretly at first, in the open now though Joe is still careful when he’s outside so people do not believe he hasn’t aged. A little makeup and some hair changes has always kept them safe.

Nicky doesn’t need that now, aging gracefully as he is. Some part of him has been waiting for this, but his sadness at doing this without Joe is still there. He keeps it to himself as much as he can but after so long it’s not the easiest to do. Knowing Joe feels the same makes it all better.

He knows Joe tests his healing every month. In the hopes that his has ended well. It breaks both their hearts that it hasn’t. But they do not focus on it.

Instead, they focus on the good things, how living a quiet life suits them. They focus on Joe’s endless fascination and admiration for how Nicky changed. They focus on loving one another and making the most of all their days.

They travel when they want to, rediscovering memories in good places, make better ones in bad places. It’s a simple life, but a good one. They meet up with Nile and Booker when they are able, the two of them still together and doing what they can for the world. Joe joins them at random intervals when he’s needed or wanted, Nicky as well. Though now he stays out of sight, doing his best work with his sniper rifle when it’s needed.

A simple life, a quiet one. But still filled with excitement and adrenaline, when they want. And if Nicky joins Moose in doing research often enough that Moose gets exasperated because technology is not Nicky’s strong suit, no one has to know. Though Booker laughs at him when he has the chance. So everyone knows.

His favorite days still belong to Joe. Sleeping till late, spending slow and quiet mornings in bed, soft touches and lazy kisses that turn hot and possessive in mere minutes, their skin gliding together in a symphony well practiced and lovingly done, both of them screaming for an encore the minute they finish, even if Nicky’s body doesn’t always appreciate it these days. He still loves to bury his hands in Joe’s hair, tugging the way he knows Joe adores while pressing bruising kisses into his skin as Joe takes them in hand and brings them to completion on the less than good days, or one of them coming deep inside the other on the better days.

His body might grow older, but their passion never does.

———

Twenty years down the line and he’s noticeably older, his hair longer and full of grey, his body softer and slightly less defined even if he’s still muscled and fit. His body is technically in its 50s now, even if his mind and experience have passed a millennium.

They’re still in Malta, still in their cottage, still living a peaceful life. But over the ten years they’ve been joined by a Briard dog that Nicky found on the streets one day, his tawny colored fur matted and filthy, the dog angry and scared as Nicky approached it. Thankfully he’s always been patient, he has been with Joe for a very long time and his lover does know how to push buttons, so with a bit of time and some cold cuts he managed to get the dog safely back to their place.

Booker didn’t laugh the first time he heard the dog had been named after him, but a mangy and scared Frenchman, even if the man in question had four legs, was too good to pass up. A few years later and even Booker laughs when both he and the dog react to their names at the same time. And he’s always there to doggy sit if Nicky and Joe decide to travel.

He keeps being told of the adventures of Booker and Booker when they get back from their travels, never by Booker but by the people that live close to them. He decides early on to never tell Booker that he knows, just in case the day comes when he wants to tell them himself. He hasn’t so far but Nicky has faith, always faith.

Though Booker the dog doesn’t seem to be aging, so perhaps Booker the man has finally found the companion he’s been searching for. Nicky sincerely hopes that is the case.

Joe has taken to not being around the other people in their village, after twenty years in the same place without him looking any different, even if Nicky carefully dyes silver into his hair so it seems like he’s aging. Nicky thinks the town’s people know, or at least suspect, their… Joe’s secret. But no one seems to care. Just like no one comments on how Booker and Nile have never changed, on their yearly visit (that often turns into 6 times a year). Nicky pays close attention when he’s out and about with them, especially Joe, but the people around them just smile and greet them as if nothing is out of the ordinary. He’s incredibly thankful for it, he really doesn’t want to leave their place. Especially now that Joe has taken to not going on missions at all.

Instead he stays home with Nicky, seemingly loving the way he turns older, how his flesh fills out more in a natural way of aging, how his hair is turning more and more silver, how the blue of his eyes never loses their shine or affection for the things around them. Joe never stops touching him, never stops running his hands down his body or through his hair, kissing his neck or cheek or shoulder, whichever part that is reachable at the moment. Growing old with Joe by his side is a blessing in that he never feels unwanted or unloved, never feels like his ever changing body is a source of disgust or annoyance. He’s just loved in every moment of his mortal life, as he was in every moment of his immortal one.

It’s a wonderful feeling and it never stops being wonderful, spending the days within reach of Joe and in his arms.

———

Thirty years down the line and he’s in his 60s. He’s been completely fine with his aging body, but turning sixty has been the complete opposite. Especially with Joe’s still young and gorgeous self around. He hates how things are starting to sag, he hates how he can’t keep up with Joe, or even Booker and Nile anymore, he hates how old he feels compared to them. He hates that his foot still randomly hurts.

He has moments of extreme self consciousness, where taking off any piece of clothing in front of anyone, even Joe, wrecks hell on his confidence and self-image. He’s at times afraid to touch Joe because he believes that at any moment Joe will shy away from him, give him a look of unbearable disgust that would destroy his everything. Sometimes he forgets, his mind tricking him into thinking that he’s still young and immortal and he kisses Joe without thinking about it. He’s always horrified when he remembers. But Joe always smiles and wraps his arms around him, no sign of any discomfort on his face. He’ll whisper sweet words into Nicky’s ear and crook of his neck, biting him gently and sucking bruises into his skin, lazy kisses anywhere on his skin and flicking his tongue over the lobe of his ear to rile him up. It always makes Nicky chuckle, that soft, quiet chuckle of his, which in turn makes Joe smile widely and kiss him properly, his hands running up and down Nicky’s body like he never wants to let him go. It usually leads to slow and easy love making that lasts deep into the night, Joe coaxing as much pleasure out of Nicky as he possibly can, while Nicky himself just turns into a puddle of goo who is so deeply in love with his partner that nothing else matters. It reminds him of who they used to be, though Nicky knows that they’re still those people, even if he is older.

He needs the reminder that even if he has trouble loving himself at times, aging as he is, Joe has no trouble loving him, worshipping him, being thankful for every day by his side. He needs to remember, then he won’t have trouble believing it. And perhaps he won’t feel like he has to let Joe go, to live his life away from him and Booker (who really isn’t aging) so he can live it to his full potential with Nile and Booker and not stay with a sagging old man and an undying Briard. Joe wouldn’t leave even if he tried to put it forward and he won’t ever disrespect him like that. It would only cause a fight, one that Nicky doesn’t want to have. He loves Joe too much for that.

“Nicolò, il mio cuore, are you planning on joining me in this water or are you going to stay there all day?”

Nicky looks at Joe, laughing as he splashes around in the deep cerulean water not far from their cottage.

“No, my Yusuf, I don’t want to get my hair wet,” he replies, tugging slightly on his longer, now silvery hair.

Joe snorts, a deep sound that makes Nicky smile fondly, though the smile turns to a grin as Joe walks out of the water and towards him. His body is muscular and gorgeous, tanned skin stretching beautifully over lean hands and slender legs, his shoulders wide and so gorgeously touchable, his waist narrow and tapered. He’s slightly sad he can’t see Joe’s rear, but watching his front in tight swim trunks with the beautiful thighs that he knows the exact strength of is not a bad option. He still spins his finger, laughing lightly as Joe actually turns around and flexes, showing off his ass and his delightful back that Nicky has spent many hours touching, kissing, worshipping as if it is a wonder of the world. And to him it is.

“Prego,” he says as Joe looks over his shoulder. Joe winks and wiggles his ass just because he can before he turns around again and walks over, sitting down in Nicky’s lap facing him.

“I do like your silver hair,” Joe murmurs, his hands coming up to run through Nicky’s hair. Nicky closes his eyes and just relaxes into his talented hands, soft moans dropping unwittingly from his lips as Joe gently massages his head and tangles his fingers in his hair just the way he likes it.

“Jesus Christ, Nicky, you know what those moans do to me.”

Nicky opens his eyes, watching Joe bite his lower lip as he continues his ministration. “It feels very good when you touch me, Joe, you know this.”

“You are a goddamned tease, Nicky.” Joe uses his hands and pulls him close enough to give him a deep kiss. “No wonder I married you.”

“Did you? Marry me? I do not remember this.”

Joe mock gasps, one hand leaving Nicky’s hair to land dramatically on his chest. “Why I never. And here I thought we were madly in love and had a delightful ceremony.”

“You made me speak the Rite of Marriage since Booker said I would become a priest again when my immortality ended,” Nicky says, still smiling adoringly at his beloved, moving up to stroke along his lower back.

“Yes well, we had witnesses, the words were spoken, we both said yes. We’re married.”

“Of course we are, mi amore.” Nicky pushes himself forward to put a small kiss on Joe’s cheek. “I have married you many times during our years together and I will marry you as many more as you wish of me.”

“Molto bene,” Joe whispers, kissing Nicky softly. “Can I touch you?”

The damning insecurity rears its ugly head, making Nicky freeze without meaning for a second. He shakes it off, but Joe is already looking at him with a look he always hopes he doesn’t have to see. It’s not pity, it’s not despair. It’s just a look of understanding that feels wrong, even if it isn’t.. “I’m-“

“Please do not apologize, Nicky. You never have to apologize to me.” Joe sighs, his gaze deep and imploring as he looks at Nicky. “I love you no matter what you look like or feel like. You are the love of my life, nothing changes that.”

“I know,” Nicky replies. “My insecurities about me aging and you staying the same are catching up to me. I know you love me, I know you still desire me, I know you still look at me with lust in your eyes. My mind must catch up, but I do not always find it easy.”

“As long as you know that I do. And that you know I love touching you, feeling your skin against mine.” Joe runs his hands through Nicky’s hair as he talks, moving his hands down the front of his shirt and around to his ass. “I desire your presence every hour of every day and that will never stop. You are my heart, Nicky, and I love you more than life itself.”

“Did I not call you an incurable romantic, once?” Nicky asks softly. He probably has what Nile affectionately calls heart-eyes, but he does not mind one bit.

“Mm, in an armored van on our way to be tortured. What a life we’ve lived together.”

“We still have many years, Joe.” Nicky smiles, a hint of the smug smile he also knows Joe loves. “But for now, do with me as you please.”

“Any time you wish,” Joe replies, locking their lips together. And Nicky loses himself to the man he loves, gladly, willingly. Lovingly.

———

He’s closer to eighty, now. Forty years and change since he lost his immortality. He’s become much more frail in the last ten years, his back aching and his leg never really feels good any more. He’s in slight pain more often than not, even if he’s still in somewhat good shape. He still does light training with Joe when he feels up to it, still swims whenever he can so he can still feel somewhat fit next to Joe.

But he knows it won’t matter for much longer. He can feel it in his bones, in his faith, that he’s running out of time. His mortality has been good, what he remembers of the first thirty-three years and what he knows now of his last forty-five. And all those years in between, all of them with Joe. With Andy, Quynh, Booker, Nile, and Booker the Briard, who’s still running around, currently with the two-legged Booker and Nile who never leaves their side for long.

He’s lived a good life, and a very happy one with a lot of good days. But it’s now that he’s coming up on his last days that the sadness of leaving Joe appears again. It’s always been there, at the back of his mind. Lurking like a bad dream he will never be rid of, the day he goes off to pastures unknown without Joe.

Joe still loves him like he was thirty-three, like he was forty, fifty, sixty. They still sleep the same way they always have, Joe wrapped around him, they still have lazy mornings in bed and long make out sessions that leave them both breathless and panting. Nicky laments the fact that his libido has slowly disappeared more and more over the years, but he still gets an amazing thrill at seeing Joe in the midst of ecstasy, he still adores helping him through it, be it by hand or mouth or their greater collection of toys. He still wants and needs to give Joe everything he can, just like Joe does for him.

They’re having one of those lazy mornings in bed, Nicky tenderly wrapped in Joe’s arms when he notices it. At first he thinks his mind is playing a trick on him, a cruel joke on the last of his days. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and reopens them. It’s still there. His heart starts beating a bit faster, his breath taking a quicker pace.

“Joe. You have a bruise on your throat.”

For a moment, a second, two, there’s quiet. Their breaths can’t be heard as they’re holding them, the sound outside the window disappears, the creaking of their cottage stills.

“Are you sure?”

He hears the trepidation in Joe’s voice, and he nods instead of answering. His finger lifts to press slightly on it, he hears Joe do a sharp inhale as he feels it. And once again his everything lunges for a knife, but instead of the slashes he did all those years ago, he does a small cut to his finger. Much like the small cut Nicky did when he first discovered his mortality.

They both watch as the blood wells. And how it doesn’t stop welling as it’s wiped away.

“We’re mortal, together.”

Joe cries, after that. Nicky holds him tightly in his arms, as silent rivulets of tears run down Joe’s cheek. The last of Nicky’s days, and they’re finally here together. The way they’ve always been since they found one another all those years ago, after a few rough starts and a mountain of bad blood to wash away between them.

Nicky can’t help but thank his Dio, the God he might not always believe in anymore but still has faith in that he doesn’t have to live in the afterlife without Joe for long. He doesn’t doubt that Joe is sending his prayers to Allah for the same thing.

They stay in bed that day, the last of Nicky’s days. He knows it now, knows that this is what he was waiting for. Waiting for his faith to give him his happy ending, with the other half of his soul. He falls asleep in Joe’s arms like he has so many times before.

He knows no more from then on.

———

A few days later Booker, Booker the Briard, and Nile enter their cottage. Booker the Briard starts whining the second he gets through the door, running to the bedroom and opening the door with his paws the way he’s done a thousand times before. He stops in front of the bed, a soft woof leaving him as he looks at the two men on the bed.

Nile follows, Booker behind her. They stop inside the door, knowing instantly that both men are dead.

“Of course they went together,” Booker says, grief welling inside of him but still he smiles as he sees their two beloved friends, their family, wrapped together on their bed. In their home for so many years.

“Do you think...”

“No, Nile, they would not take their life like that. Nicky has always had faith that when it was his time to go Joe would follow. And Joe believed the same.” He smiles at her, taking her hand. “Nicky might’ve lost his immortality first, but Joe was never going to leave him alone. There wouldn’t be the one without the other. They were soulmates, from beginning to end. That’s all.”

“We need to bury them,” Nile says, after a few minutes. She’s holding Booker’s hand tightly, tears flowing freely. Grief unites them, but they both cannot help but be happy that Joe and Nicky are still together, wherever they are. “We’ll give them to their final resting place, together.”

“Together.”

———

Years later Booker and Nile dream. Dream of two men, waking up together in immortality. Their hands holding the other, flashes of blue eyes and curly dark hair.

They wake up and smile, Booker the Briard barking around them as if excited about something. Maybe reincarnation isn’t a thing, maybe it never will be. But they still choose to believe.

They find them in a cottage in Malta.

#the old guard #the old guard fic #joe x nicky #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #sebastien le livre #nile freeman #booker the dog #nicky loses his immortality before joe #but they still go together in the end #moments of a happy life #their cottage in malta #found family

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nanierose · 3 years

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So this is going to be a controversial take, and is simply my opinion. You don't have to agree with it and I will preface by saying I think Essek is a very interesting character. The way he's developed and how Matt plays him is cool, however I am of the opinion that currently he's been let off incredibly lightly.

As we all know by now Essek contributed to the start of the war. Whether you classify it as a war crime or simply treason it doesn't matter, the end result stays the same. Giving away the beacon not only started a war that killed thousands, it also led to souls being reborn in the wrong bodies and children being kidnapped. Essek did his best to hide his actions, brainwashing a man to take the fall for him who is probably now dead. He did all this because he valued knowledge over the lives of others.

As such, I honestly believe he should go back to the Dynasty and face the consequence once Aeor is dealt with. Considering the influence the M9 have and the benefit of having helped save the world, there's a good chance he could avoid death if they play their cards right. They could maybe get a plea deal where he has to work to make up for his mistakes, even if that takes centuries. He should lose his position and the chance to be consecuted too. When Jester suggested he be transformed I winced because it felt like she was ignoring the very real impact he had on families across the continent. It makes sense cause she's incredibly loyal to her friends but still, Essek being able to avoid any consequences just doesn't sit right with me. He still deserves a chance of redemption, but for me part of that will be owning up to what he did openly and accepting those consequences. His path to redemption only happened because the M9 offered it to him, before he was just hiding waiting for everything to go wrong.

But, I hear you cry, what about Caleb? He too has done awful things which he hasn't faced consequences for. Well firstly, I would argue the fact he was abused and brainwashed should always be taken into account when discussing his actions. He still actively chose to do it and is partly responsible, but there was a long journey orchestrated by Trent to get him to that point. Plus I put starting a war way above Caleb's actions but that's just me. Also I would argue he has faced some consequences. Killing his parents broke him, and he spent 11 years catatonic in an asylum. He lost a third of his life, and we don't actually know what really happened in those 11 years. Was he forcibly kept in that state, was he abused further, what were the conditions he was kept in? I don't know about you but those 11 years lost are an awful thing to happen to a person. Especially for Caleb 'Keen Mind' Widogast. Then there's the fact that he spent the 5 years after his escape in a constant state of fear, paranoia, and suffering from severe PTSD (and still does). Trent still has a hold over him to an extent and has shown that he continues to gaslight Caleb to a point of making Caleb question how much agency he's actually had in his decisions. But Caleb is now at a place where he actively seeks to make his country better, save children from his own fate and that of the other Scourgers. He helped bring about peace and has done numerous acts that have helped others considerably. He's doing his best to make amends for his actions, which is admirable and shows an understanding that he can't ignore what he did.

Essek is starting his path of redemption, which is great, let me see that morally dubious war criminal become a better man and do things for the betterment of society. However, I don't want it to be at the expense of sweeping his actions in the war under the rug. It just feels plain wrong to me. I don't want him to die, I just think it would be satisfying to see him redeem himself while also facing up to his actions. Now if it doesn't go like that I won't like it but I'm not going to have a hissy fit about it. It's just a game at the end of the day. Of course this is only my view, and I know many will disagree with me heavily. Just know I'm not saying you're wrong to want something different, I'm just saying I prefer a certain narrative direction better.

#cr discourse #again i like the character #just not to a point of wanting him to be wholly absolved just yet #i don't think this tag is warranted #but i'll put it for those who want to avoid sentiments like this #anti essek #anti essek theylss

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dottiechan · 3 years

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Tempest (Pt. 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Read on AO3

Pairing: Ava Du Mortain x f!Detective

Wordcount: 2177

Warnings: mentions of death, smoking

Summary: Ava’s handler has information that will turn her lengthy mission upside down - along with her heart.

Lady Ashbury’s parlour, London, 1898

“You’re ridiculously torpid this afternoon, Ava.”

The hostess’ words ring clear in her ear and she almost flinches - not like the others can hear them. Nate has taken it upon himself to entertain Lady Ashbury’s guests when Ava turned even more sullen and laconic than she usually would in a setting such as this. Afternoon tea wasn’t exactly her scene after all. Nor was being parted from the private detective in such a hurried, unplanned manner as the invitation that simply could not be refused was thrust upon her this morning by a note from Lady Ashbury. Letters such as that hold no importance to her at all normally. She doesn’t socialise. She doesn’t attend parties, or put on a show for the sake of being thought of as ‘pleasant,’ whatever that is supposed to mean these days.

But it would have been impossible to ignore her handler’s request.

“You said it was urgent, Lady Ashbury.” Ava folds her arms almost petulantly as she gazes out the window, refusing to look at the older vampire clad in a divine tea gown of showy green silk and soft cotton frills.

“Had I known this lengthy assignment would make you so surly, I would have invited you to my gatherings more often.” The sentence passes from the socialite’s parted red lips, and the corners of her mouth twitch upward in a way Ava can’t help but feel secretly mocked. “Oh, don’t frown like that! Or else we will all die of your ennui. I have great news, great news indeed! But I see no reason why we shouldn’t have an equally pleasant afternoon to ourselves before we talk business.”

“Half of your guests are not even of the Agency,” murmurs Ava, her disapproving glance sweeping over the almost gaudily overdecorated room. Eventually, her eyes settle on Nate serving tea cakes to some of the ladies, all refined charm and long fingers and even longer smiles, and a pang of guilt runs through her when she realises that her old friend is actually enjoying himself, thriving and basking in the plenitude of attention he is showered with. She’s been so absorbed in her love for the detective that she nearly haven’t had enough time for him as of late.

“All previously settled engagements, of course. I’m sure you understand how rude it would have been of me to entreat them not to come,” Ashbury lies fluidly, yet her brown eyes glint with a mocking light that betrays her immediately and on purpose. She delights in the tensing of the muscles in Ava’s jaw.

“Of course.”

“Now don’t be so uncouth, or else I will be the talk of every party and club for the coming weeks about the questionable company I keep,” Catherine Ashbury shakes her head stubbornly, dark locks bouncing defiantly as she links their arms and tugs Ava away from the window. They walk down the long parlour slowly, close enough to the guests that they feel like they’re part of the occasion, and yet far away for their conversation to remain private.

“You’re already the talk of London, Lady Ashbury,” Ava retaliates, almost suavely wrapping her jest in a cloak of concern. “Thirty years you have been here, and thirty years you haven’t aged a day.”

“Some of us are just lucky in that regard, aren’t we?” the hostess grins at Ava. “Unlike these poor ladies here... Or even your private detective. They’re young now, but they’ll whither away soon like roses in the winter. Such a waste. Just like this whole operation has been, if you pardon my frankness. I understand her protection was part of the deal the Agency made with the Police Commissioner, but such a waste of resources this endeavour has been! Our top agents, wasted on the protection of one human. I’ve always appreciated your practical thinking, so I know you must feel the same way as I do. And to be stuck in it for two whole years...! Well, I’m sure you will be relieved to learn the rumours I’ve been hearing lately.”

Ava awakens from her listless silence when Catherine Ashbury ceases to prate about the question of mortality and baits her into enquiring more about the mysterious little sentence she dropped at the end of her speech. She schools her features into an emotionless mask even as her heart begins to fill with uncertainty and fear, painfully aware of Ashbury’s almost predatory gaze fixed on her at all times. “Do they have to do anything with our mission?”

“Would you be intrigued if I said yes?” Catherine asks, red lips curving into a satisfied smile when she notices her quickening pulse. “Alright then. Mind you, these are only rumours, and you didn’t hear them from me... But it is said that the Agency wants to form permanent working units - much like your partnership with Nathaniel, only in teams of four and with greater autonomy than what is usually granted to field agents. I hear the top squad has already been assembled - and utilised. Here, in London. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“What could possibly be their objective here?” Ava frowns as they walk slowly, Ashbury leading the way to the small balcony facing a lush park of green fenced in by equally posh buildings as the one they’re in right now. “I haven’t been alerted of any major supernatural activity here, save for the rouge dark elf, of course.”

“Ah, there you go, spoiling the surprise,” Catherine sighs, finally giving up her maddening secrecy as she takes a deep breath, the crisp air chilling her lungs in the most effervescent way. Or is it the anticipation radiating off of her agent in waves as great as ocean tides? It is an exhilarating game, reading others, playing with words and watching the body betray the mind as it answers all questions so truthfully. She is only the temporary handler of the two agents, and has been that for two years straight now, but a sudden recognition manifests in her heart - as difficult and disagreeable and perfectly unpleasant Ava can be sometimes (the very opposite of her companion) she will miss her. She thinks her a remarkable entity, a true novelty among the cheap copies upon copies of women who thoughtlessly sacrifice their truest parts on the altar of hypocrisy and vanity, until no vestige remains of their original self. To know Ava is to face a lot of uncomfortable but all the more truthful feelings - one can decide to despise Ava for it, but the wise learn to look within.

Though Lady Ashbury may not look it, she is old. Older than Ava, and certainly older than youthful, handsome Nathaniel. And she feels old too, the debauchery of her long centuries and the dishonest little games that made up her life ageing her soul prematurely. But when Ava speaks...! When Ava speaks, her throat becomes the well, and her words truth, and she shames mankind in the most delicious way. Like that splendid painting by Jean-Léon Gérôme, La Vérité sortant du puits armée de son martinet pour châtier l’humanité. Truth Coming Out of Her Well to Shame Mankind. A painting she wishes she could procure for herself.

And Ava. A woman Catherine wishes she met when she was still herself.

But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The demise of the rogue dark elf is only part of the rumours circulating in the Agency about Ava’s involvement during her latest assignment. Or about Ava herself, and her career, for that matter.

“Speak plainly, Catherine,” Ava almost pleads, her diplomatic facade slipping up to reveal a shade of fear in the green of her eyes. Ashbury wishes nothing but to descend upon Ava’s connection to the private detective like a vulture until she realises the rumours have more truth to them than even those who maliciously spread it could imagine. She hasn’t a shred of doubt about Du Mortain’s feelings for the human woman now, her initial doubt obliterated by every sign in Ava’s body language as they stand so close to each other on the small balcony overlooking the beautiful Cornwall Gardens. Ava is a clever woman, capable on jobs, willing to take on risks no one else would dare. And more importantly, she is aware of her strengths too - and thus her self-aware nature marks her as superior to all the other humble little agents. She must know what Catherine is about to tell her - with the task forces forming, and the first such group striking in a place none other than London, she must know that it is only a matter of time before the rogue is dealt with. Before she’d be given an assignment and a position befitting someone of her talents.

And here she stands, this brilliant woman in all her glory, terrified of a promotion that would have put a smile on her stern face two years ago.

“As I said, you didn’t hear this from me,” Lady Ashbury resigns, a little sullen at being robbed of her smug pleasure all of a sudden. “But I know for a fact that your current assignment is drawing to a swift conclusion as we speak. And rumour has it, you are destined for greater things once it is over.”

“Greater things,” Ava echoes, her whole being feeling hollow. Around the detective, she forgot about the world, to be honest. And it seems like she is about to pay the price for her two years of blissful ignorance. She always knew the mission would end, and yet in a strange way she didn’t really believe it. It’s like how people know they are mortal, and yet feel so much entitlement to life that when death comes for them, they have the audacity to appear shocked.

Ava has no illusions. This is a goodbye, not an opportunity. Nate may think that bringing in the private detective is a reasonable step, but Ava will do everything in her power to prevent her from learning who she is, what they are, what the last two years have been about. They were never right for each other. She was never right. And if she leaves now, maybe she can draw that conclusion too.

“My dear, everything you’ve done up to this point is in the past now. And it is best to leave a dead thing in the ground.” Catherine’s plummy honeyed words have an admonitory yet sad edge to them. It is a warning about the detective, and what clinging to her could mean to her career, with an undertone of genuine empathy uncharacteristic to Lady Ashbury. She inspects the woman to her right, a dark speck against the grey sky, and feels honest to god sympathy - and emotion she hasn’t felt in decades. Maybe it is good she will no longer be her handler, Ashbury thinks as she lights a cigarette. She felt too many real things ever since Ava came into her perfectly splendid and dull life, tearing apart the walls of hedonism and debauchery she’s built around herself. But that is a goodbye that can wait.

“Congratulations, Commanding Agent Du Mortain.”

Catherine watches Ava from the balcony still as she purposefully cuts across the Cornwall Gardens, stomping the prized lawn of the old Mr Thomas Broadwood Junior in the process as that sweet Nathaniel treads on her heels ever so loyally. They must be headed for Cromwell Road which will no doubt have available hansoms for them to hail. Not that they need them, but if they are going to Whitechapel, which she is certain of, they need to travel the old fashioned way for appearance’s sake.

The tea gown is too flimsy for her to stay outside for much longer, so she heads inside, cheer and conversation and the wonderfully lukewarm sensation that only pointless small talk can elicit wrapping her in a blanket of comfort instantly. And Lady Ashbury is finally home.

On the other side of London, a woman is losing the only home she’s ever had in centuries. How many lives can she save if she goes along with the Agency’s plans for her? Surely the detective isn’t worth all that. (She is. Her rationale may deny it, but she knows she is worth all that and more to her. And she ignores it anyway.)

Ava will go on loving her in every following decade, in every language she knows, with every breath she takes. She marries duty, and allows death to make a martyr of her lover left behind. Turn her into her very own memento mori.

And in the end, the agent isn’t completely mistaken - something will indeed claim the private detective’s very soul. But it will not be as serene as eternal sleep, as Ava keeps believing. No, it is not death that claims the detective after all.

Even though sometimes even she wishes it were that simple. That peaceful. That freeing.

But there is no rest for the wicked.

#dottiechan writes #ava du mortain x detective #a du mortain x detective #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc detective #ava du mortain #a du mortain #I finally finished reading Dracula by Bram Stoker and the same day I was like #y'know what I'll finish this chapter as well #also in case you're wondering #yes #Lady Ashbury is a vampire #and I blatantly stole her last name from Vampyr

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lokigodofaces · 3 years

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This post will give my answers for why Doctor Strange captured Loki when he showed up on Earth for five minutes, yet he did nothing when Wanda took all of Westview captive yet Agatha did, as well as why Stephen took Loki after two seconds but the Ancient One did not.

So, here’s a recap for all of these events.

In Thor: Ragnarok, Thor and Loki go to Earth to find Odin. Loki had left Odin on Earth in an elderly care center, but in the few years since he did so, that care center had begun to be demolished. Thor and Loki are standing in front of the demolished building when suddenly there is a Doctor Strange-esque portal whisking Loki away, leaving behind the address for the Sanctum Sanctorum. Stephen tells Thor that he keeps a watch on cosmic threats, and Thor agrees that Loki makes the cut for that list. They sort things out and move on though.

In WandaVision, Wanda took 4,000 people hostage in her fake sitcom reality world. This was all composed by her grief for Vision’s death. It is implied that Wanda didn’t realize what was going on for a bit, but realized what she had done by the end of the second episode and decided that living with Vision is what she wanted. Agatha Harkness comes over, thinking Wanda is the Scarlet Witch and starts manipulating things. Turns out Agatha was right. This leads to a witch battle, and Wanda takes the Hex away before leaving to study the Darkhold somewhere (I personally like the theory that she is in Sokovia).

In Avengers: Endgame, it is revealed that the Ancient One was involved in the Battle of New York, but the only role she played was to protect the Sanctum from stray Chitauri attacks. She did nothing else and left the real fight to the Avengers.

Option One: characters can sense magic in a certain radius.

Stephen and Loki were in the same city in Ragnarok, and based off of the lighting in the scene when he captures Loki and the scene where Loki finds the Sanctum, they were extremely close. Maybe Westview, New Jersey was outside of Stephen’s radius. And perhaps Agatha happened to be in the neighborhood when everything happened. This seems to be a poor explanation, because it’s not like New York and New Jersey are far away. It’s not like they share a border or anything. And we have no idea what Agatha was up to in the time period between her trial in the 17th century and 2023. For all we know, she could’ve been anywhere in the MCU. So I don’t think this is a very good explanation.

Option Two: characters can choose what types of magic they can sense.

Stephen sees Loki as a threat after the Battle of New York. But he and Wanda fought together against Thanos. They aren’t best friends but they’re chill with each other. Perhaps Loki just hasn’t turned on his “sensing allies using magic” settings and only has his “sensing enemies using magic” settings on. As an extension, maybe Stephen only has the settings turned on for people he considers to be threats, which is why he didn’t know who Thanos was. As for Agatha, she came to Westview out of curiosity. She may have the “sensing unusual magic” settings turned on. Or, if she has been searching for the Scarlet Witch, she may have the “sensing Scarlet Witch” settings on. I think this is a better explanation that option one, but still not too amazing.

Option Three: characters prioritize their magical threats.

Wanda and Loki aren’t the only magic people Stephen knows about. There are plenty of threats. Look at the caliber of threats Stephen dealt with in his film! Maybe, there wasn’t going on much during Ragnarok, so Loki was the biggest threat he had to deal with. Maybe there was something bigger happening during the events of WandaVision that Stephen had to deal with. Look, mind controlling a town in New Jersey to perform a sitcom is bad, but not quite as bad as impending doom for the entire planet. Stephen might have been a bit preoccupied and said he’d get to Westview when he could, but WandaVision resolved before his mess did. Stephen had been gone for five years, so maybe the world was more susceptible to threats and he needed to get back on to protecting.

Option Four: protecting the Sanctum.

This is only about the Ancient One. Perhaps she didn’t get involved in the Battle of New York to protect the knowledge of the sorcerers and Sanctum and whatnot.

Option Five: characters wanted certain events to happen.

We know that the Ancient One looked into the future and could see everything up until her death. That would include the Battle of New York. She also said in Endgame that Stephen was supposed to be the greatest of all the sorcerers. Perhaps she let the invasion continue because it would help set up future events of Stephen’s. We know that Stephen looked into the future in Infinity War, but we don’t know how far he looked. Maybe part of “winning” was not just against Thanos, but against someone else (Mephisto, Nightmare, Kang the Conqueror, Galactus, whoever). They had to defeat Thanos in a way that would ensure they wouldn’t all die five years later. And perhaps what they need is the Scarlet Witch. So Strange didn’t get involved because it was exactly what he wanted.

Option Six: state rivalry.

Stephen is from New York and he hates New Jersey and refuses to go.

My Theory: I think all of these have some truths. There is a radius to what can be sensed, but Westview was definitely within Stephen’s. It may be more difficult to sense threats you are unaware of (suck as Thanos). Stephen could very well be dealing with something else. And that something else could be Stephen’s excuse to not stop Wanda from becoming the Scarlet Witch because that will be necessary. And also it helps that he doesn’t get to go to New Jersey.

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #wandavision speculation #thor ragnarok #avengers endgame #avengers #stephen strange #doctor strange #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #agatha harkness #agnes #theories

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lunaslashsea · 3 years

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Crossover Fanfic Recs

The Addams Family/Harry Potter

'Family Values' by Ishtar Petunia Dursley discovers that taking care of two small boys is too much for her, so she passes the guardianship of Harry Potter over to a distant relative — Morticia Addams. With Harry growing up in a very different type of Family, Dumbledore desperately tries to get him back. But the Harry Potter who finally arrives at Hogwarts, along with his "cousins" Pugsley and Wednesday, will be nothing like what Dumbledore expects.

The Addams Family/Rise of the Guardians

'Nightmares for Christmas' by Neyiea Not all children are happy that their nightmares have disappeared, and as such North finds himself receiving a very unexpected letter several days before Christmas.

Big Hero 6/The Martian

'Big Hero Martian' by althor42 There would have been no rescue for Mark, if NASA had not noticed he was still alive. Unless of course, a certain Big Hero noticed instead.

Big Hero 6/Marvel

'Magnets for Trouble' by PitViperOfDoom Months after Callaghan's downfall, Hiro receives a surprise in the mail: a special invitation to this year's Stark Expo. With Fred for company, he leaves the protection of the city temporarily in the hands of the rest of the team and flies across the country to meet the man with twice the brains and bank account of Alistair Krei and several times the infamy.

But of course, it can't be that simple, can it? Really, after how his last expo went, he should have seen this coming.

Bleach/Free! Iwatobi Swim Club

'Teamwork for Hire' by junko After the defeat of Aizen, Ichigo has lost his superpowers but not his skills so he's been hiring himself out to any sports team looking for a strong player. When Nagisa Hazuki approaches Ichigo to join the Iwatobi High School Swimming Club, something piques Ichigo's interest…

Bleach/Harry Potter

'Crazy=Genius' series by blackkat Minerva McGonagall isn't about to let Harry go back to the Dursleys after his first year. She finds an alternative, and along the way, Bazzard Black finds that he might have more family left than he'd ever thought.

'Lost Boys' by glacis After the Triwizard fiasco, Harry leaves Britain behind for a new life. Uryuu befriends Ichigo at a much younger age. Sirius escapes. Points converge and lost boys find a family. Isshin fails. So does Ryuuken. Kisuke finds a friend. Ukitake covers and cleans up. Fate changes.

'There May Be Some Collateral Damage' by metisket Ichigo's been ordered to go undercover at a magic school to bodyguard a kid named Harry Potter, and this would be fine, except that he's about as good at bodyguarding as he is at magic. And he considers it a good day, magic‐wise, if he hasn't set anything on fire.

Bleach/Hunger Games

'Storm the World with Reckless Abandon' by SSAerial So due to one of Urahara's failed experiments that Ichigo unluckily got a full blast of (because life hates him and trouble is attracted to him like a clingy fangirl he could do without), Ichigo ends up in a dystopian universe where people take perverse pleasure in watching kids fight to the death. Which just, no. So Panem now has to deal with a pissed of Ichigo who's determined to stop the Hunger Games and pummel Snow to the ground. And Panem doesn't have a snowball chance in hell in stopping him.

Bleach/Lord of the Rings

'Behold the Flowing Years' by Straight‐Outta‐Hobbiton Ichigo escapes his dimension to start anew, away from the memories of death and friendships past that he can't seem to put to rest. Rohan is a beautiful country, and Théoden is a good king, but evil only grows stronger within the borders of Mordor, and Ichigo finds himself once more forced to protect those whom he has grown to love.

Bleach/Marvel

'Foreign Recruit' by SSAerial Ichigo doesn't know where to start. He has no friends, no family, no personal attachments to the world he got dumped into. The Soul King never specified what he was supposed to do in a world where technology is ahead of its time and aliens and secret governments exist. As for the people he has to deal with… Well, it isn't like he hasn't dealt with colorful personalities before.

Bleach/Naruto

'All My Ghosts are at Rest' series by Zakad An older Ichigo and Uryu leave Soul Society and all its problems behind to search for the near-mythical homeland of a particular Shiba ancestor. They find the Elemental Countries and one little boy who is desperate need of a family.

'Bite' by blackkat Orochimaru and his sons crash‐land in Karakura. Soul Society is most definitely not prepared for what's coming.

'A New Home' by Rain1701 In an effort to save her life and freedom, Hitsugaya Toshiro winds up landing head‐first in the Naruto universe two months before the start of canon. Not much stays the same after that.

'Soul of Fire' by Zeionia aka Disturbed After being betrayed by Soul Society, Ichigo and his sisters leave Karakura behind to find shelter with the remains of their grandfather's clan in the Land of Fire. Instead of the peaceful life they were hoping for, they reach Konoha just as a new danger appears to threaten the Uzumaki. Heart‐broken and tired of fighting, will Ichigo be able to protect his sisters and his new home?

Bleach/Stargate

'Stardust' by Vathara What if some Alterans found another way to survive the Wraith? Five thousand years before the Stargate opens, contact with creatures of energy changes the way of life for an Alteran colony…

Card Captor Sakura/Harry Potter

'Cardcaptor Harry' by LunaStorm In which both Albus Dumbledore and Clow Reed would have done well to remember that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in any philosophy… or predicted by the most imprecise branch of magic…

Doctor Who/Marvel

'Alien Taskforce' by TheSovereigntyofReality Just because S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers didn't listen to Tony after the Battle of New York, it doesn't mean no one did.

Downton Abbey/Marvel

'Tony Stark Meets an Extremely Unimpressed Time Traveler, or, Thomas Barrow Makes a Surprisingly Good 21st Century Butler' by Alex51324 In which Tony Stark ditches a boring party, makes an addition to the household staff, throws a much better party, and tries not to sexually harass his new butler.

Or, In which Thomas Barrow has a little trouble getting home from the pub, is generally unimpressed with many aspects of the 21st century, never thought of himself as a conservative dresser before, and may or may not be falling in lust with his new employer.

Gilmore Girls/Stargate

'Physics of the Spin' by Mhalachai Rory Gilmore always thought she was Christopher Hayden's daughter, but things are a little more complicated than that…

Good Omens/Supernatural

'Misfire' by VivatRex Crowley finds himself in another universe; Aziraphale goes to fetch him. In the meantime, Team Free Will has to figure out what to do with the 6,000 year old demon that won't stay in a devil's trap and keeps rooting through Dean's vinyl collection. Shenanigans ensue.

Gundam Wing/Naruto

'Worlds Apart' by Mieren Something went horribly wrong and Duo and Naruto are in the wrong worlds. Ninja vs technology. How could this possibly go wrong?

Harry Potter/Marvel

'Behind the Shield' by GeeEs It was a good thing the new scientist, Dr. Harry Evans, was working out so well. Because nothing else was going Fury's way. And that was before Loki made off with the Tesseract and some of his people. Maybe AU to Mortem Cantor by Kyandua.

'How Harry Failed to Conquer New York' by Impossible_Insanity

'I See The Moon' by hctiB‐notsoB While on the run, Bruce meets a young man who speaks to the moon. He's probably not quite the sanest friend Bruce could have made, but, well… beggars can't be choosers.

'Mischief's Heir' series by mad_fairy Mostly Harry Potter with the addition of Loki in the first parts

'Mortem Cantor' by Kyandua After losing everything he holds dear, Harry Potter is thrust into a new world; one with Superheroes and evil Villains that make Voldemort look like a kitten. Struggling to survive in this new world - and, meanwhile, gaining the attention of S.H.I.E.L.D. - he attempts to live a NORMAL life. But, he is Harry Potter after all... what could possibly go wrong?

'On Punching Gods and Absentee Dads' by Enigmaris Harry finds out that his dad is alive, has been the whole time. Instead of being overjoyed, Harry's disgusted. His dad left earth and abandoned his friends. Every painful thing he's ever gone through can be traced back to one man. Now Harry's got super strength he can't control and an almost unnecessary amount of magical power. His dad might be living it up with the Avengers now but not for long. With the help of his friends, Harry comes up with a plan for revenge. Get ready Avengers, Harry's out to punch a god.

'Safeguard' by esama The Chitauri invasion launches a whole new age – for everyone.

Inuyasha/Yu Yu Hakusho

'Devoted' by Ookami‐chan Loving someone means seeing to it that they receive nothing but the very best of care. In all things.

'Healing Soul' by Trelweny Rosephoenixwolf Canon, IY slightly alternate ending, BG blend but more manga than anime; YYH boys' last year of school but otherwise through series, anime only.

'By Any Other Name' by Deviant Nature Kagome's return after an unexplained, prolonged absence leaves her family with questions she refuses to answer except to assure that it's over. While she attempts to readapt to the present, Kurama is feeling the pressures of human society's expectations. But the solutions to his troubles aren't as straight‐forward as he had hoped. Note: Unrated version is on MediaMiner.net as 'Par Tout Autre Nom'

Harry Potter/Ranma 1/2

'Harry Hibiki and the Philosopher's Stone' by USA_Tiger On the night Voldemort attacks the Potter's home, a completely different person finds Harry before Sirius Black or Hagrid. Harry is found and adopted by Nerima's very own eternal lost boy Ryoga Hibiki! Soon Harry will be joining his classmates at Hogwarts but how will Hogwarts handle this kind of Harry? And how does it affect the prophecy, what is the 'power he knows not?

Harry Potter/Sherlock

'The Avalon Seven' by sifshadowheart Major Non‐Canon A/U, Harry is treated for abuse and massive injuries by John Watson as a John Doe. To help solve the mystery of the battered boy John calls in his partner Sherlock — whose father has much more information about his patient than John ever thought possible. Turning to an old acquaintance, Siger Holmes contacts the Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Wallace…Harry's rightful guardian.

First several chapters will be covering Pre‐Hogwarts years, story starts with Harry at age four so it'll be a while before any sort of slash or real conflict happens. Very political fic with lots of twists and turns. Because the plot‐bunnies won't leave me alone!

'Magnificent' by esama The birth of the Ministry of Magic and his relationship with the British Government.

'Whispers in Corners' by esama Everything started with a stumble — his new life in a new world as well as his surprisingly successful career as a medium.

Harry Potter/Sherlock/Star Trek

'Harder Choices' by sifshadowheart Post‐Avalon Seven A/U…a.k.a. This is what happens when plot‐bunnies start mating and multiplying.

Hadrian saves Earth…at a cost

Hetalia/Naruto

'An Englishman in Konoha' by pupeez4eva Itachi Uchiha is a strange child, who regularly converses with things no one else can see, drinks far too much tea, and has a strong and unyielding obsession with being the best big brother ever (or, in a world where England is reborn into the Naruto universe, Itachi ends up a little…different).

The Hobbit/Sherlock

'All Things Old and New' by teacup_of_doom All around the world, people are remembering past lives. Bilbo Baggins discovers that Tookish streaks can span lifetimes — and can have unintended, hilarious, consequences.

Katekyou Hitman Reborn!/Naruto

'Force of Nature' by Ramabear (RyMagnatar) He had died— honorably, he'd like to think, despite living as a villain and an assassin for over half a century— and that, as far as Xanxus had ever figured, would be the end of that. No heaven. No hell. Just life when you were breathing and nothingness when you stopped.

Except that it didn't, quite, turn out that way. Except he came back as the son of the kindest, sometimes saddest father in the world. In both worlds. A father that he knew, without a doubt, to be his flesh and blood. All at once, Xanxus had everything he'd wanted as a child. A home. A family. Stability. And he was going to fight like hell and beat down anyone who tried to take it from him, no matter what his age.

(In which Sakumo raises a son who speaks multiple languages from birth, all of them gibberish to the poor single father jounin, spits vulgarity with the same ease as he does his praise and burns with an unshakable determination to build himself a family that will not fall, no matter who or what is thrown against it.)

'Uchiha Kyōya' by Tsume_Yuki In a world where Fugaku has three sons, he wishes he'd stopped at the one. There's nothing wrong with the youngest, it's just…

The middle child.

Marvel/Sherlock

'In Which Neither Coulson nor Sherlock are Dead' by TheDullYellowEye … and John sort of joins the Avengers. While Coulson's recovering from being stabbed in the chest by a magical spear, Fury is rapidly running out of Agents willing to play babysitter for the newly founded Avengers. So he calls in Captain John Watson, late of the British Royal Army, and blogger and best friend to the infamously antisocial presumably deceased Sherlock Holmes.

Naruto/One Piece

'Lost Uzumaki' by Silver Dragonfly (lillikira) Shanks was used to strange meetings on the various islands of the Grand Line. However, this one was unusual even for the Grand Line. A Lost Uzumaki is found and Naruto has no plans of not becoming part of his family. (A Series of Snapshots about the finding of lost family.)

Naruto/Pern

'One World's Tragedy is Another World's ...Gain?' by Foodmoon Pern goes to hell in a handbasket. Ir'ca tries to rescue the future of dragonkind by being a thief and somehow ends up in the Land of Fire. It's probably a good thing Kakashi handed over the Hat a while back...

Naruto/Sherlock

'Deduction in Shadows' by GremlinSR Shikaku just wanted to finish his paperwork before lunch so he could squeeze in an afternoon nap. His plans are derailed by a six year old orphan when she sneaks into his office with proof that somebody has been kidnapping the children of Konoha and covering it up.

He never does end up getting that nap.

Or: A Holmes is reborn into the ninja village Konoha. Chaos ensues

Rise of the Guardians/Marvel

'Constellations of Old' by kuroi_atropos When the Man in the Moon recognizes Thor as a representative of Asgard, he decides to send the Guardians of Childhood to ask for help vanquishing the last of shadows, as well as a few other things he could use some help with.

'Winter Gods' by avearia The Guardians discover that, outside of Earth, many races actually worship Jack as a God. Meanwhile, the Avengers deal with the implications that come with an almighty spirit, otherworldly religions, and the revelation that Santa is real.

#fic recs #crossover fic recs

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inkstaineddove · 3 years

Text

Asystole

Ships: AusHun

Characters: Hungary, Austria; mentioned Prussia

Summary: His empire failing, Austria is desperate enough to make anything work. His empire failing, Hungary is desperate enough to finally break free. One of them must give.

Vienna, 1867.

Erzsébet padded across the hallway, spine stiff and shoulders rolled back. A minute before, some poor servant had been tasked to play the messenger, urging her to head to the office straightaway. Ordinarily, this sort of urgency would’ve shocked her; today, it was expected. All people talked, from the lowliest maid to the richest of emperors, and word of their machinations never seemed to escape her. Plus – if she allowed herself a moment of honesty, instead of falsely praising her cunning – her politicians had told her everything. There truly were no surprises.

Her first sight upon entering was that of Austria, scowling down at whatever papers were before him. She wondered when she had last seen him smile – and not the fake one he flashed at diplomats and hangers’ on, but the real one. It couldn’t have been years, could it? It seemed true enough, but for his sake she hoped she was wrong.

“Are you intending to get your face frozen like that or do you just enjoy tempting fate?” Hungary slid into her seat as she spoke. Her voice lilted up in a way that would sound like gentle teasing to the untrained ear.

Fortunately, his was trained perfectly to her pitch. He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, looking as if he was in no mood to be messed with. He’d been looking like that a lot recently. It disappointed her, only because it put a damper on her fun. There was little joy in kicking a dog while it was down, even one prone to biting.

“Would you prefer I pretend to sit here, giddy about all my misfortunes? If you wanted that, you should’ve convinced your boyfriend his time and resources would’ve been better off warring with a different enemy of the hour.” Austria attempted to keep his tone dispassionate, though it didn’t work. Try as he might, it never did.

She sniffed, scrunching up her nose. “Do you have to call him my ‘boyfriend?’ That sounds so…juvenile.” It was a minor thing to pick a fight over, but she certainly wasn’t going to over whether Prussia’s war had been legitimate. There was no need when they both agreed.

“I feel I have to because, if I didn’t and forgot my restraint, I’d be tempted to call him something awful like your little bitch, but I would never. I’m above that.” Austria smiled, all teeth and hostility, and Hungary wondered how nice they would look knocked out on the floor.

She flicked her wrist dismissively. No reason to get herself worked up over something so petty. There was business to discuss and deals to be made. She leaned her weight onto the arm of her chair. “Can you just tell me what you want? You know how it is, so many rebellions to plan and so little time.”

A quirk of an eyebrow was enough to show his displeasure. “Not like you to play the fool. There’s no reason for you to pretend to be so unaware.”

“If I didn’t pretend, you might get curious on my methods. If I reveal my hand, there goes whatever illusory personal freedoms I have. You want me even more miserable than I am?” His silence was the answer she wanted. She smiled, resting her cheek on her hand. “So, tell me. What does Hofburg have in store for me?”

“You’ll be thrilled to know that for a change, it’s an offer instead of an edict. I don’t see any point in attempting to sweeten reality to you – you live here and you’re not an idiot, after all. The empire, my empire, is in an increasingly bleak situation. You would think this would endear me into the hearts of all my subjects, but I suppose I underestimated how deep nationalism’s poison infected their bloodstreams,” Austria rolled his eyes at his own foolishness. “Yours being the most infected – and, as you love to remind me – being the most likely to one day succeed, a deal needs to be made to quell their bloodlust.”

That certainly was one way to put it. Hungary couldn’t stop herself from laughing, unable to look at Austria’s overly serious expression or risk breaking into hysterics. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, though still with a noticeable smirk. “Bloodlust? Really, Roderich? They want independence, not the death of every Austrian. Who has the time for that kind of petty revenge?”

He scoffed, clearly insulted. “As if they’d be capable of that. If I had to sacrifice a few peasants here and there to keep them peaceful, I wouldn’t bat an eye. My kingdom for a commoner is a trifle. No, the blood they want is mine. They want to see what I’ve built up over the centuries diminished in months, in days. I’ve jumped into wars for less, you know as much. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’d fare well if an army were sent in and the backlash for such a heavy-handed move doesn’t make it worth the trouble.” He shook his head, clearing his mind of useless plans.

Hungary pitied him. Look how desperate he was to hold onto something so ephemeral, so meaningless. Empires came and went like the seasons. Here was a man who thought himself wise, yet he couldn’t grasp such a basic tenet of their existence. She had learnt it; so had Poland and Lithuania and every other plaything these so-called ‘powers’ sought. It was a lunacy, one that infected all of them the same. Now his was crumbling all around him and instead of attempting to move on, he would drag out the process. It was predictable and entirely disappointing. Despite having no reason to, she expected better of him.

She sighed and turned her gaze away from him. If she stared at him any longer, she’d feel nauseous. “What do you want from me?”

Relieved to be back on track, Austria’s body became less rigid. “Nothing, really. My offer is quite favorable to you. Our marriage, partnership, whatever descriptor you prefer becomes one of equals. Complete control of your lands returns to you. You’ll have the privilege or the torture to pore over the minutiae of whatever half-formed, barely coherent policy is cooked up by your own hacks in Budapest. Christ, am I normally this cynical?” He shook off the self-awareness. That could be dealt with later or, preferably, never. “Really, everything you’ve ever harassed me and all my various rulers about is now yours. You lose nothing in this arrangement.”

“Everything, bar the most important thing. Just because it’s been roughly twenty years hasn’t changed what the people want. You’re not giving me anything you view as important. Ruling my people has become an inconvenience, so you’ll hand it off to me. Ten years ago, you would’ve been insulted at the prospect. And now the insulted party will be us.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Why is conceding so difficult for your lot to do? Clinging onto everything will only make the inevitable that much harder.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared her down. “Nothing is inevitable. We’re in a difficult spot, but we’ve been through those before. As long as I bide my time and there’s no more incidents, everything will be back on track and no one will make anymore of their bitchy little comments.” The way he sneered as he said that last part, she was willing to bet that bothered him more than anything else. He tried smiling at her, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve conceded a lot to you with this. Fine, you’re not quite independent, but it’s just as good. In some ways, I’m doing you a favor. Foreign policy is such a nuisance. All of them are sharks, all of them would be circling you, sniffing out fresh blood. Europe isn’t how you remember it.”

Hungary grinded her teeth together. Patronizing, always patronizing. Even desperate for her assistance, he couldn’t view her as a peer. And then he wondered why she behaved the way she did? Why, sometimes, she can’t even stand to be near him? He was dumber than he had any right to be.

“Do you think I’ve been completely isolated from the world? I know how they all act, how they all think. The only ones I’d have to worry about fighting off would be you and Russia, and without me, what army do you have?” She smiled, enjoying how that blow landed. How could he argue against it? He’d said as much to her – sometimes with pride, sometimes with fear – many times throughout the years. “And believe me, I would love to strike out on my own and form my own alliances. I can think of a few who’d be more than happy to spurn you with a treaty or two.”

He folded his arms over his chest, staring at her with derision. “Insulting me won’t get you what you want, Liebchen.” He practically snarled out the nickname. Pet names had always been their favorite weapons. “This is the only deal you have. I don’t get all your bitching either. We negotiated with two of your most darling heroes. There’s no need for you to be putting up this much of a fight. Will you ever be satisfied with anything I do for you, or should I learn to accept your eternal disdain?”

She took shaky breaths through her nose. That was hardly enough to constrain her. “Perhaps I’d be more accepting of the terms if you’d bother to invite me to negotiations! I appreciate,” she roared the word out, her fury overtaking her, “that you were oh-so-fucking considerate enough to know who I would’ve chosen to be my representative. And here I thought you only paid attention to my lands to slaughter innocents! But you have never, will never, respect me enough to listen to me on what my own goddamn people want! Deák and Andrássy are good men, but they know nothing compared to me! How many times must I scream this at you until you get it? If I’m not allowed to have any free will in this life, then so be it! That’s my curse, but at least let me speak on their behalf! Give me the chance, the fucking chance, to win them the freedoms it appears I’ll never have!”

She only realized she was leaning over his desk when she was done. Her rage, built up over the centuries, was causing her to tremble. Staring into Roderich’s eyes, she swore she could kill him. She swore she could and it would be the last time, the most permanent of his deaths. It was so vivid in her mind that, for a moment, she believed it to be reality.

What brought her back to the present was how utterly bored he appeared at her antics. Here was the same song and dance they performed for each other. Here it was, meant to play out for eternity. Why would he fear her? What could she do to him that was permanent? Nothing. The one thing she could, he locked it away in some deal she wasn’t allowed to be apart of.

“Don’t you ever get tired of carrying on like that? So sanctimonious. As if your cause is the most just. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to be bound to you?” He shook his head. “I’m convinced that if you ever tried to shut up, it would kill you. Though, honestly, I’d be grateful for the silence.” As she sat down, he smiled with an unrivaled arrogance. “There. Now, please, Erzsébet, try to be reasonable for a change. There’s no use in becoming so hysterical over this. Everything doesn’t have to be such a battle. Fighting like this, you haven’t taken a break in centuries. Aren’t you tired?”

She would not be baited. She refused to tell him what he wanted to hear, refused even if it were partially true. “The only thing I’m tired of is being brushed aside, but I know not to expect change from you.” She looked outside the window and sighed. “The ink is already dried, isn’t it? I can’t stop what’s been put in motion.”

“For the most part. All it needs is ratification. Though, we’ve been assured that that won’t be an issue.” Once more, he relaxed against the back of his chair. His relief was clear across his face. “I’m glad you’ve calmed yourself of those delusions. While I can commend your…dedication, you’ll have much more important things to busy yourself with.”

Hungary smiled, pleased with his false sense of security. “You’re right, there will be. I understand that, at this point, I can’t prevent anything. But, when news travels around, most will not be happy. This flies in the face of everything they’ve worked so hard to achieve over these last few years. They’ve been sold out, and I’m inclined to believe them.” She licked her lips, savoring the moment. “So, when the people take to the streets, when they demand what they know is owed to them, I won’t try to smooth things over. Never again. I will be right beside them, doing whatever I can to rile them up. Whatever they choose to do, however they decide to handle this, I will support them with every fiber of my being. And if that creates problems for you?” She stood up, smirking and curtseying. “Solve them yourself. I’m no propaganda piece.”

Head held high, she began striving out of the room. It was the only card she had left, the only thing she could think of. With every step she took, she prayed he’d be as weak as she knew he was. He had said it himself, there was nothing he could do to fight anything. Today did not come about out of a position of strength for him.

“Wait, Erzsébet! Please, don’t do this.” She heard him rise, heard the soft steps of his feet. “If you do that, neither of us will walk away from this looking good.” A soft intake of breath from him. “For once, I’m not too proud to admit that I need you. But, please, don’t throw it all away over nothing.” His voice was gentle, as if he were pleading with a lioness and not a woman.

When he reached out, she allowed him to touch her and spin her around. When had his hands last been that soft? Cornered, he was like a new man. “All you have to offer me is insults. What should I stay around for? I have more to gain away from you than besides you. I always have.”

“I know, dammit I know!” She watched his Adam’s apple shift as he swallowed. Roderich’s eyes were wide, all too aware that he was on the precipice. “Not now, though. You’re right, you’re my equal. I’ll give you whatever I can, within reason, to prevent that. Anything to prevent you from ruining me.”

The urge to scowl at his self-preservation was there. What else should she have expected? He was still Roderich; nothing could change the core of a man. Still, this was further than she’d ever gotten before. “You know me well enough to know what I want.”

“I assumed I did when making the last deal and look where it got me. Forgive me for wanting you to spell it out.” The beginning of a smile appeared on his face.

Erzsébet didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. Feeling off-kilter, she settled for sitting on the sofa. “Not even you could mess this one up. I’m tired of sneaking around your back to leave the home. I’m not a young girl and you’re certainly not my father and you will stop treating me as such. If it’s that important to you, there’s only three places I’d be anyway, and you know them all. More importantly, start treating me like a person! You want your life to be less miserable? Then do yourself a favor and at least treat me with indifference, I’d rather that than constant disgust.” Her eyes met his and held them, challenging him to deny her. “And, whenever some big decision comes up, you better discuss it with me and actually give some consideration to my thoughts. You’re not any smarter than me and I’m as aware on everything as you are. If this is going to be both our futures, for whatever time you just bought yourself, then I’m not going to do anything to sabotage it.”

“That’s the very least of what I can do.” If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought she a flash of shame in his eyes. It couldn’t have been. She doubted that he could feel such things, so high were the walls he’d built.

She studied him skeptically. That had been far too easy. There must’ve been something he’d want in return. He couldn’t just have thought what he’d taken was enough. “Don’t you have anything you want from me? There’s no terms?”

Roderich paused, deciding his best course of action. He shrugged, apparently not finding any trap in her words. “Two. The first: cut off the affair. It can be anyone else, but not him. On a personal level, this will make me look like an even bigger cuckold than we all know I am.”

Erzsébet’s eyes hardened and she leaned away from him. “No, that’s out of the question.”

He frowned when she offered no further explanation. “Really? You could do so much better. Don’t tell me you actually love him.”

“You have no right to my personal life.”

“Right. I thought that was the case.” She couldn’t quite distinguish the exact emotions in his voice beyond disappointment and resignation. There was a layer to it that wasn’t simple to place.

He snapped her out of her thoughts when he spoke again. “Now, the emperor wants this sealed with some sort of formal wedding between us. I begged him to do anything but this. Unfortunately for the both of us, he thought it would make such a lovely story for the masses.” He gave an embarrassed smile. “I’m also not exactly asking for you to do this, since there became a gentleman’s agreement on it, but something that means much more to me.” He grew serious again at whiplashing speed. “Let me break the news to Gilbert. Give me the satisfaction.”

Erzsébet could imagine how it’d go. How the scene played out in her mind, it was horrid. Her stomach wrenched. “You’d wreck him.”

“That’s the point,” Roderich wore a cruel smile. He’d been imagining it as well.

“Why do you think I’d ever let you do that?”

He shrugged in an effort to appear nonchalant and failed. “Simple, really. If you tell him yourself, do you think he’ll believe you can’t just stop it? God, he’ll have every moronic scheme to prevent it and act all wounded when you tell him it can’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he were just your little plaything all along. Even though I have ‘no right to your personal life,’ as you so kindly put it, I’m no fool. What’s the point in risking it and being stuck with me?” He smiled at her, warm in a way she was unfamiliar with. His tone attempted to strike a friendliness that didn’t fit him. “If I do it, he hates me, comes sobbing to you about it, and you can both continue to curse my very existence. The status quo is maintained. It’s an obvious choice to me.”

She wandered if he’d prepared that speech just for now. It was tempting to ask him, but the knowing would be worse. Ignorance could, indeed, be a bliss. Erzsébet knew there was an ulterior motive for his words, there always was with him. He wasn’t Feliks, who she wouldn’t feel such guilt over listening to. Still, there was a human part of her that needed outside validation regardless of the source. “Do you think I’m a coward?” Her voice was so soft, she wondered if he’d even heard her.

“No, because I can understand it. Sometimes it’s braver to manipulate.” There was an understanding in his voice. She wouldn’t be surprised if this were coming from experience.

“Fine, but don’t be crueler than you have to. Try to have some compassion if you can.” There was a feeling of hollowness Erzsébet forced herself to ignore. Her life would be livable, that was what was most important. No one would have done it differently.

“He’ll get what he deserves,” Roderich bit back his irritation. They both knew who it was really for. Instead, he nodded his head and offered her his arm. “I’m sure you don’t want to spend the rest of the day watching me work. Allow me to walk you to the door.”

She politely took his arm. They walked in silence to the door, too busy was her mind for idle chatter. Anyways, hadn’t they said enough? Only on her way out did she smile at him and offer him her thanks.

He smiled at her. “Thank you. I promise I’ll make this worthwhile.”

#aushun #aph aushun #hws hungary #aph hungary #hws austria #aph austria #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #historical hetalia #im back on my bullshit - at least for a moment

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vore-scientist · 4 years

Text

An Honest Mistake

[Safe/soft GT vore, male pred & female prey + female observer. Fearplay with especially brave prey. Fantasy setting]

A Tale of the Mystic Woods

Proper Title: In Which a Young Knight Takes on a Quest That Was Not Meant For Her and Has Tea With an Old Friend

Content Warnings: Yonah gets a cut on his hand and uses it for intimidation purposes + interesting fearplay aspects since the prey is a proper noble knight and willing to “sacrifice” herself (obviously she lives. it just get a bit intense for her). To go into details here would be spoilers. Do not hesitate to privately message me if you feel you need me to elaborate!

All characters are my OCs and they are all adults!

[Special thanks to @nommy-thoughts for beta-reading!]

---

Nothing much had changed since she last set foot in the City of Luster but five years does make some difference. Everything seemed bigger and grander, but also a bit smaller. For Zelda had grown a lot, she almost was as tall as the horse she was leading; she could look it in the eyes at least, if she stood on her tiptoes. Most girls stop gaining height at around 16, but not her. She kept right on growing, up and out. Now she was 18 and finally slowing down. Height and brawn were good things, considering the reason she left home was to become a knight.

Now she was back and had a lot of catching up to do. Knight School is one of those things that takes many years, and you’re not allowed much contact with the outside world. Knights are above gossip after all. All she knew was that Princess Ilana was going to be married in about two months.

That was the main reason she was even Luster and not off adventuring. It was going to be a big party. And she had almost missed it. Or missed the RSVP date, since the Grand Master Knights kept the mail from the apprentices for 1 month unless it was an emergency. Again, the gossip thing. No distractions allowed. Thankfully, she made it to Journeyer and was given access to her mail a week early.

The first thing Zelda opened was the most fancy and official of envelopes. Turned out to be a wedding invitation.

Journeyer Knights got to go on Journeys and take on their first quests! And there were always minor quests being posted about in Luster, it was a veritable hub of job listings, quests, and fairytales. Zelda was sure to find one in no time. And perhaps involving someone else she knew. For she had grown up friends with the royals of Orr. Who knows what they’ve gotten up to in the last five years.

Especially the Princess Sophia. That twerp of a Princess was always getting into some sort of trouble. Not scandal worthy, most of the time.

As her thoughts turned to Sophia, the Knight passed by a particular bakery. The Taste of Victory. A popular spot among leaving and returning questers. A memory burst into her mind, and she tied up her horse on a lamppost and headed inside.

It smelled exactly like how she remembered. Like honey, spices, and heaven. It was nearing noon and the savory scents of meat filled pastries came from the back, though the sweet cakes and confections that surrounded the walls were much stronger. The two, sweet and savory, did not conflict, rather they danced into her nose.

“Now there’s a face I haven’t seen in a long time. All grown up! I barely recognized you! Unless you’re not Zelda Barzilay.”

The Journeyer Baker hadn’t changed a bit; they barely looked older. The same long blonde hair and green-grey eyes, a pudgy face and body to go with it. Though… they must be a Master by now.

“Or is it Sir Zelda now?”

Zelda ran her hands through her thick but two inch long hair as she walked up to the counter, “It is indeed, hence the hair. All trainees must keep it short. However, I’m growing it out again. I expect you are now Master Aloni?”

Aloni beamed, “I’m running the whole shebang now! I have my own Apprentice, but they’re out on deliveries. I don’t miss that job but I do miss the people.”

“Do you have any koftashen?”

“Now, that’s also a name I haven’t heard in a while,” Aloni sounded sorry, but there was a hint of cheekiness in their voice.

Zelda’s face fell. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it would have been a nice surprise.

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t make one! It’s not like we don’t have the pastry dough. Just that particular combo was never that popular, it was just-”

“Sophia and I’s favorite.”

“Sophia was pretty much the only reason we stocked it. Not wise to discontinue a Royal’s favorite, even if her preference didn’t start a trend.” Unlike some items, like the special maamoul that became Prince Daniel’s favorite. Daniel was a trendsetter and they couldn't stock the product fast enough.

Many knights are airheads, just minor nobles or lucky commoners who got picked to train as heroes. So most didn’t think about much beyond honor and fighting. Puzzle solving was for clever folk like wizards. Zelda wasn’t exactly a genius, but she started to connect the dots, and worry filled her stomach.

“Wait- Did something happen to Sophia?”

Aloni looked a bit surprised then recovered, “Right, you wouldn't have heard, though it wasn’t exactly huge news. Kinda weird now that I think about it. There was no big hullabaloo or anything! Just kinda got around. I only heard by eavesdropping on, - uh, thanks to gossiping customers. Glad I did; I had to throw out a lot of stale kofts. I mean, It would have been nice to get a heads up-”

“What happened!”

“Calm down, she was just kidnapped!- Hey watch it!”

CRASH

Zelda had slammed a fist on the counter and a glass container of cookies fell to the floor.

“Just kidnapped!”

“Yeah, by an evil witch or something.”

“What!? When did this happen?”

“I- I don’t know, a while ago?”

“And she’s not been rescued!?”

Aloni’s placidity made Zelda furious. And as they shook their head, Zelda grew worried. An unknown number of months and no rescue. Why had no one told her? Gossip or not, the kidnapping of her childhood friend was a big deal. There was no telling what state she was in now.

“Hey why don’t you give it a go!”

Zelda stopped fuming. “Wha-”

“She probably hasn’t been rescued because the right person hasn’t made the attempt! You two were great friends, so maybe it’s your fate!”

A random person had walked into the store but slowly backed out, hanging around outside. Best not to get involved with knights. You tend to get roped into adventures where anyone but the knight is expendable. After centuries of this, the populace had managed to catch on. Though there are still those reckless enough and foolish enough to get caught up in the excitement.

“I-” Zelda brightened, “It must be! Of course! My friend: kidnapped while I was in school! And then it’s the first thing I learn of when I return home to visit her. If that’s not the start of my first fairytale I don’t know what is.”

Then she paused.

“Uh, you don’t happen to know where Sophia was kidnapped to, do you?”

Aloni held out their hands, “Sorry Zelda, I’m not even sure she was kidnapped by a witch. But, I can whip up some koftashen to take with you!”

“That would be great, and uh-” Zelda looked at the glass and cookies by her feet. “I’ll pay for this…”

---

Since Zelda had paid for them she munched on the least messed up cookies that had not touched the floor and had no glass pieces in them as she continued towards the castle on the other side of town. Surely someone must know more details about Sophia’s kidnapping.

“Sophia… the royal one? No, don't know a thing.”

“Kidnapped you say?”

“Good, it will keep her out of trouble.”

“Sorry, I remember hearing about it maybe a year ago, but not who told me.”

Seemed like either people didn’t know or knew as much as Aloni. Or that the troublemaker was finally being dealt with. People knew Sophia. The princess with an unfortunate reputation. Not that she had caused any undue damage in the city, but people talked about how much of a pain in the ass she was for her father. Not the best reputation. At least no one outright hated her.

The common folk were clearly the wrong people to be asking. Someone closer to the inner workings of the kingdom. Ah, there was a Mage Guard.

“Hey, you, Ranger fellow!” The ranger, who had been leaving a textile’s shop holding a lot of cloth didn’t startle (too well trained), but he raised a brow and nodded.

“Yes, Sir?” as if he was not sure if what he was seeing was a Knight.

“Sir Zelda Barzilay! A pleasant afternoon to you,” she gave him a shallow, respectful bow.

The ranger sighed, adjusting his hold on his fabrics, “If we must talk, can we at least walk?”

“Oh,” Zelda’s face grew hot, guess she was interrupting official business, “I can help you. Why don't you let my horse carry that?”

The ranger’s attitude improved at the suggestion, though Nechesh’s suffered. She was already carrying all of Zelda’s stuff and was not a pack animal! But as a Knight’s Steed she was also steadfast and hardworking. She could handle a few pounds of fabric.

“I am Master Ranger Nimrod, What did you want to talk about, Sir Zelda?”

A Master Ranger? What was a Master Ranger doing errands for? Nevermind that, not her business.

“I heard The Princess Sophia was kidnapped recently, and I hoped you might know something.”

Ranger Nimrod stopped and looked Zelda up and down. He was shorter than her by a few inches, though his magical aura gave him a large presence. Rangers were known for being clever and perceptive. Was he sizing her up? Was that concern in his eyes? Could he tell she had only just become a journeyer, having earned the right to be called Sir only a few months ago? Would he refuse to tell her based on her inexperience?

“I'm guessing you want to rescue her; a bold task for such a fresh knight.”

“She’s my friend!”

That got her a shocked look.

“Really now! That’s a bit different. The Princess Sophia was kidnapped by a mage and taken to his tower in the Mystic Woods.”

Zelda stopped. And laughed.

Of Course! Why hadn’t she thought of that. Stupid! Of course Ben would have hired a mage who lives in the Mystic Woods. That way he could be sure she was safe. Zelda didn’t know much about how being King of the Mystic Woods worked, but she knew he had some freaky connection, like he was part of the forest or it was part of him? Something like that. Magical bullshit wasn’t her speciality.

And of COURSE she was in a tower. Sophia never cut her damn hair in all the years Zelda knew her. That was practically begging to be stuck in a tower.

Finally she composed herself.

“Then I, Sir Zelda Barzilay child of Sarai Barzilay, Knight Of Orr, shall rescue her!”

She turned to the ranger, “Thank you!”

A hand caught the back of her armor as she started to lead Nechesh away.

“Not so fast, Young Knight. You said you would help me. Complete one quest first.”

Right. Her cheeks red, she turned around, and followed the ranger.

TO THE CASTLE!

No no. She couldn’t go inside. Telling anyone else about her plans would make the expectations too high and she would fuck up somehow. But the ranger insisted she see this through. They left Nechesh in the front stable, each taking half the rolls of fabric. Trying to be inconspicuous, she passed into the main entrance.

Where they were greeted by Princess Sasha.

And Zelda nearly dropped her cargo.

The princess’s loose wavy dark brown hair was practically glittering around their light brown face. And to wrap it all up, their honey brown eyes shone brightly. Their plump cheeks were almost flawless, though make-up was playing a part, and they were dressed in stunning greens and yellows.

Had Sasha always been this lovely?

Certainly they had always been cute, but the last time Zelda has seen them was when they were both 13. They had been in the same year for their Transitionary Classes. Royals didn’t attend commoner school except for certain special classes between the ages of 12 and 14, when everyone in the kingdom undertakes their first apprenticeship and also a deep dive into their country’s history and culture. Immersing themselves in language and arts and dedicating themselves to an assigned task. And at the end was thrown a big celebration; for those who have now taken their first steps towards adulthood.

Some people, like Zelda and Sasha, manage to finish their training in a year. Others took two or even three, but it doesn’t matter how long.

There are parties held for those who complete their work at the end of the year. And when that included a royal, well, those begame legendary. For the capital city’s 13 year olds at least. Sasha’s party had been the most memorable night for Zelda’s 13 years of life. The princess had even danced with her.

That’s when she resolved to save Sasha’s sister. She could not let this family down.

“Ohmygods is that Zelda you’re so tall!” The princess rushed up and hugged Zelda as the knight’s thoughts and feelings processed. The princess, though her equal in age, came up to her chest. It couldn’t have been comfortable, she had armor on!

“It is an honor to see you again Your Highness.”

Sasha laughed, “I bet it is. That must be the materials for our dresses. Thank you Master Nimrod, I hope such a task wasn’t too easy for you.”

It was a kind of silly mission for a high ranking ranger.

“I guarded the fabric with my life, Highness.”

He gave a small bow before leaving his load with a servant. Leaving Zelda alone with Sasha. And the servant.

“Uh, I must be going too, I uh, have a quest.”

There was a flash of disappointment in Sasha’s face.

“But? You just got here,” they said. “You are still welcome in the castle you know! Don’t you need to rest up before your quest?”

Spending a night at the castle was extremely tempting. But she had stayed at an inn outside town before gathering the courage to enter. Both she and Nechesh were well rested. However.

“I could use a few supplies. A ration pack, if your rangers can spare one. My quest is taking me into the Mystic woods.”

Sasha nodded.

“And when I’m done I’m coming right back here! I promise. And! I’m going to the wedding. Carrying all this fabric has made me realize I don’t have an outfit!”

Sasha took Zelda’s hand, “Please, I would hate myself if you didn’t use the royal seamstresses. You’ve been a friend to so many of us. And I’ll see you get that pack.”

There was no way Zelda could just leave. Not now.

“I, suppose I could stay for an hour or two, I only had cookies for lunch.”

The princess beamed, “I haven’t even eaten yet! Come on.”

And she was led away, after another servant took the rest of the fabric.

—-

Staying for the next hour had been a mistake. Now she didn’t want to leave, catching up with Sasha had been so much fun and she only wanted to keep talking. But she knew she had to. No one else could rescue the Princess Sophia. If no one had done so in several months, that must mean she was meant to do it. One of the princess’s best friends!

Sasha saw her out of the castle, and Zelda put on her helmet before mounting Nechesh and setting her off at a slow trot back out of the city in the direction of the Mystic Woods.

---

There was no point in asking where the tower was, at least not until in the forest, as unless the information is fresh, it’s not worth anything. The only person who could tell where anything is with any accuracy would be the King. But even if she could have asked King Ben before heading out, the location could shift before she made it to the border.

So she just went straight in with no plan at all other than to question anyone she came across if they seemed friendly.

While she didn’t regret taking extra time in the city it did mean she arrived in the forest as the sun was going down. Not really safe to sleep out in the open and thus priority changed from finding Sophia’s prison to finding a place to camp for the night. Anywhere would do.

It would be a pity for the koftashen to go stale.

As if the Mystic Woods shared her agency with regards to delivering fresh baked goods, the Knight and her Horse suddenly left the cover of the trees and found themselves on the edge of a clearing. A clearing filled with an orchard, a garden, and.

A tower.

But was it The Tower? Sleeping in one of the trees outside would be better than sleeping in some random evil mage’s tower.

Zelda had to at least check it out.

“Shhh” she dismounted and quieted Nechesh at the edge of the garden. Surely that wouldn’t shift away from the tower! And she crept forward.

The proper thing to do would be to wait for the morning, or just any daytime hour. Wait for the mage to leave and then call out for Sophia to lower her hair.

However, Zelda was not patient, and judging by the height of the tower, even Sophia’s hair couldn’t serve as a rope. Plus the pastries.

“AHHHHHHGGH” the scream of a young woman broke the silence, accompanied by a terrible laughter.

From a scream like that, Zelda was a bit surprised how sure she was that it was definitely Sophia. It was hard to tell the scream had been agony, or Terror, or excitement. Had she come at just the right moment!? What kind of torture was she enduring? Zelda couldn’t even imagine what a mage could invent.

She ran to the tower intending to climb but to her dismay the thick and sturdy vines were full of thorns. This could only be scaled with care. As she climbed, the voices faded, but it didn’t sound like anyone had died. Just the sound had retreated as if Sophia and her captor had left the room at the top of the tower.

At least Zelda hoped that was the case.

Fuck! Climbing with armor on sucked a lot! At least it protected her from the thorns; she couldn’t feel them at all! She just had to watch out for her hands, which were unfortunately only adorned in leather.

It took awhile but she made it up, and looked into a dimly lit workshop that definitely belonged to a mage. Staring into it hurt her brain, her eyes strained and a smidgen of nausea hit.

She had to sit down and gain her strength back anyways. Good thing she did, for as she sat the perspective shifted. Her nausea went away but her heart sank and her blood went cold.

For the workshop, which had been completely normal, was now over three times its original size. The drop from the windowsill to the floor? From 4 feet to 15. Impossible to jump down through making a lot of noise.

And in her armor she would make a terrible racket. Not a good thing when dealing with a giant. For if the mage fit the workshop, he had to be massive. What was he? An overgrown troll? Giants she had seen, they were massive and combating them required special training and tools. Which she didn’t have. But this space wasn’t large enough for a proper giant.

Not important. Sophia was here! She needed to be rescued.

Carefully and silently, as the massive candle on the massive desk slowly melted, she took off her armor. Taking off armor doesn’t take as long as donning it, but it still took several minutes to do so without making a sound. Soon she was in under armor silks, though she kept her sword and helmet. And the satchel of koftashen.

Without her clanking boots, she landed with a soft THUMP on the floor, and she ran for the trapdoor she had seen. There had to be a way to open it. There just had to! But there wasn’t. Why would a giant mage make it easy for his princess to run away by giving her a convenient door?

She circled it many times, searching for something. Anything.

Aha!

A small crack. Actually a large one, but small for a giant door. A natural hole in the wood that had been rounded and sanded. She lowered herself cautiously. Holding onto the edge with her hands, she dangled above nothing, the drop farther than her feet could reach. It would be on faith that the drop was not a fatal distance.

She let go.

It was still a shock, but the fall was only a few feet. The first step on a giant staircase. The steps were each about 4ft in height, not fun to climb down but not dangerous.

At the first landing, she had to stop. Holy hell, she was getting tired. If she didn’t find Sophia on this level, she would hide and sleep.

It was quaint and peaceful. A picture perfect living room with a big armchair with a futon and matching couch. A full bookshelf with books both human and giant sized. A coffee table with a goblet of wine that had to have been left out hours ago. And a brick fireplace.

Even though there were no windows on the outside of the tower, there were on the inside. And as the last embers of a fire merrily crackled, star and moon light shown in through what had to be magic windows.

That armchair, even though it must have thick rough fabric, called to her to climb up and curl into a corner to sleep. No! She would search this floor and if she didn’t find the princess then she would find a real hiding spot, not pass out someplace in the open.

Keeping to the walls that were cast in shadows because it was now officially night probably would have been the best course of action. Yet something inside her made her scurry between the furniture, crawl under the couch. Oh hey! A gold piece. Peek out from the feet of the armchair, and even climb up to get a sip of the long forgotten wine. Much of the alcohol had evaporated. It was also very very sweet.

Get back to it!! Her brain screamed, and she scrambled back down.

The living room led into two hallways, so she picked the left one. It seemed just as good as the right. Now she stayed close to the wall, and stepped with care. Slow going but safe.

Was that a light up ahead? She flattened herself against the wall and held her breath. Footsteps soon reached her ears. Soft ones.

Five years had not changed Sophia very much. Not like they had for Zelda. There was a big difference between 13 to 18 and 16 to 21. Sophia was exactly the same height as before, only her body’s proportions adjusted to her age, and her hair was even longer. The princess was holding a dim light in her hands, dressed in a nightgown, and was walking towards her!

As she neared, Zelda saw the sleepiness in her face; the princess walked right by her, even as the light shone on Zelda’s person as she passed. Then, after walking a few more paces she froze. And walked backwards.

Sophia’s sleepy visage was replaced by shock and then, joy? But not the joy of seeing an old friend. This was the face Sophia always wore when she was about to get into big trouble, and have fun doing it. Sophia opened her mouth.

NO!

Zelda pounced, putting the princess into a one armed hold, her other hand she pressed to Sophia’s mouth to keep her quiet. She did not want to deal with a giant mage if she didn’t have to. Sophia’s eyes got wide with fear and anger, and fought against the embrace.

She was stronger than Zelda anticipated, and managed to move the hand, just enough to-

YIPE!

Sophia bit down hard, but Zelda only let out a small cry. Knights know how to remain steadfast under assault, though she was surprised. Plus she still had on leather gloves.

“Let go of me!” Sophia hissed. She would not be rescued.

“Sophia, it’s me!” Zelda stepped away and raised her visor, and Sophia held up the magelight.

“No way, Zelda!?” Could it really be her friend? It had been so long. And she was so big now!

“Shhhh!” Was Sophia crazy? They could not be found out.

Sophia’s expression darkened even as the light grew brighter. This was her friend after all.

“What are you doing here!?” she demanded, her voice mercifully low.

Was she serious? Sophia was a captive princess, and Zelda was a knight! What else would she be doing?

“Rescuing you, dummy!” Zelda whispered. Then remembered that Sophia was out and about. Perhaps whatever terror she just endured has inspired her? “Wait, are you escaping?”

Sophia, who had taken a rather professional defensive stance, relaxed and stood up. Not that it made much difference. She looked a bit annoyed and disappointed.

“No. Zelda, I don't want to be rescued.” She made sure her tone was low and serious; she had no patience for those who disrespect her wishes. And even if Zelda was her friend, things change, and going off to knight school could have turned her foolish.

Zelda regretted showing her face, for it was surely as red as a tomato. She had not considered Sophia might be here by choice. That was known to happen. But even most royals who elect to be kidnapped did so just to get rescued. It was rare that they wanted to stay. Given that Sophia’s kidnapping hadn’t been a big deal back in Orr, it now made sense that it was because rescue was never the plan.

“You’re sure? You’re not enchanted to say that?” Which was another possibility.

Sophia rolled her eyes. She wished people would just believe her. “If I was, the spell wouldn’t let me tell you.”

No. Such spells never did. It was very irritating. But she couldn’t leave now! She just got here and she wanted to talk to her friend. So she took the satchel and presented it to the princess. Sophia’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I hope you’re not trying to trick me or-”

“No! It’s-”

Sophia held up a hand, “Actually, let’s continue talking somewhere else. Plus, I still need to pee.”

Zelda gave her a questioning look.

“I was heading to the bathroom, Zelda,” Sophia sneered, and continued walking. Zelda ran to catch up when she finished processing and returned the satchel to her back. Matching pace with the princess they walked side by side. Sophia was walking rather fast.

“You’re not locked in a cage?”

“Not locked up, no.”

“So how long have you been here? No one back home could agree, some said a year, some said only a few months.”

Hmmm. Sophia considered, “I think it’s almost 8 months now!” She had a smile on her face, “Time really flies huh! How long ago did you go off to be a knight?”

“Five years- and I am a knight now!”

“Congrats!” Sophia was very sincere. She was proud of her friend!

They stopped talking when they made it to the stairs.

“You have to climb?”

“I used to, but recent installations have made it easier.” She didn’t go into detail. But a few months ago, when it was clear Sophia was here to stay, Yonah had installed accommodations befitting a human resident.

Sophia walked to the right hand side of the staircase, with intent to go further down. As she stepped down a new staircase appeared! A small one, for smallfolk. That ran alongside the giant. Why hadn’t Zelda seen that before? Now that she thought about it, that had definitely not been there.

It was only about a flight’s worth down of the small stairs that a massive door appeared on the dark stone wall. Again, out of nowhere. It was unlocked and slightly ajar, and they both slipped in.

“How about you wait outside.” The bathroom was large but she still wanted privacy.

“Right.” She returned to the hallway, but leaned on the door, worried it would vanish otherwise.

What a long trek just to use the bathroom at night! What if it had been some sort of emergency? Zelda was inclined to ask once Sophia was finished but also felt like that was a kind of awkward question. Also she was curious about what the bathroom looked like. It must be big. Was there a tiny toilet for Sophia? Again, she decided not to ask, not right away.

It did take a little while for Sophia to return, but she did.

“Since I’m already up, how about some tea?”

Tea would go great with the koftashen! So Zelda agreed.

They continued down the stairs into a kitchen.

A big kitchen.

Sophia led her to the counter, and as Sophia reached up and touched something, a ladder appeared! They both climbed up and walked over to the large stove. There was a kettle, large and metal and well loved. But how was Sophia going to use it?

From behind a jar Sophia dragged out a smaller stove! And a smaller tea kettle. This one was shiny and new.

Sophia went to the large sink on the other side of the counter and pushed the faucet handle with all her strength. The water was too far to reach so she hopped into the sink and held the kettle underneath. She returned with very wet feet and the edge of her nightgown dripping.

The water now heating up, Sophia climbed up to the cabinets. Zelda followed, and found before her boxes and jars of dried leaves and fruits and spices. The smells almost made her pass out. She pulled her shirt over her face, but her eyes still stung.

“You sure you know-” Zelda knew that Sophia didn’t know how to cook. None of the royals except maybe Daniel and Rosalind, could cook.

“I can manage.” She looked a bit worried, and sniffed each item carefully before choosing what was clearly a pre-made blend, and a few extras. Hopefully it was all tea.

From one of the corners she retrieved a teapot. She blew the dust off of it and sneezed.

“Do you even know how to use that?” Because the amount of dust made Zelda wonder if it had ever been used.

“I- do…” Sophia didn’t say anything else and climbed back down to the countertop.

The water was ready and Sophia put her mysterious tea mixture into the pot then added the hot water. It had to steep so she went to find some teacups. That’s when they both heard it.

Footsteps. And Zelda knew they could only belong to one who was properly sized for the tower.

“It had to be now?!” She looked at Zelda with a sympathetic face. Maybe she could spare Zelda the humiliation. At the very least she could try. But Yonah was usually in the mood for a treat, and was a major asshole.

The footsteps grew louder and Zelda stood up, putting on her helmet and unsheathing her sword.

“Now what’s going on here?” the grumbling voice came a few seconds before it’s owner.

Not in a nightgown, but in his full regalia, the half-giant wizard filled the entrance, in the dim kitchen his eyes were like torches. Then he snapped his fingers and the room filled with light. The two women blinked their vision back to clarity as he approached. He had not done his hair, so it billowed behind him, making him look even larger. He had not shaved, so he looked more wild. His massive rectangular nerd glasses did nothing to make him look less intimidating.

“A knight” Yonah growled, “Trying to make your escape, princess?”

Zelda recovered her stance but Sophia just crossed her arms.

“No, Yonah. Just making tea.”

“A likely story!” He slammed a hand down on the counter and they both backed up to the wall. Sophia didn’t think he’d hurt them, but fuck he was really scary. Zelda moved in front of her. “What did this knight do to convince you?”

“Stay away from her, you monster!”

“No- Zelda don’t”

Zelda probably didn’t know that Yonah was just playing. That behind that snarling face was a half-giant having way too much fun. Sophia knew it.

“It doesn’t really matter,” Yonah withdrew his hand and crossed his arms. “She knows the punishment for escaping.”

He was so quick that even Zelda couldn’t react in time. Yonah had each human in a fist. Sophia continued to glare at him. Zelda struggled.

“Let us go you idiot,” Sophia yelled. “Zelda wasn’t rescuing me!”

Yonah faltered for only a moment, breaking character. She knew the knight's name! That was different. And the room did smell of tea, though it was a bit off. Sophia normally called for him if a knight showed up, she didn’t string them along. Unless this was a new tactic so that he could get extra treats! No. Her face was hard. He came to the conclusion that she didn't want him to eat this one.

Well, that wasn’t up to her.

“You really shouldn’t have come, foolish knight.” He eyed Zelda with a look of horrible gratitude. “I told her, if she tried to run,” he looked back at Sophia with accusation in his eyes and licked his lips, “I would eat her.”

Sophia knew the glare was because she wasn’t playing along. Well, it was clear he’d made up his mind. If she continued to spoil the moment he might really punish her. Extra chores or exercises. Ugh. He’d definitely eat her too. She didn’t mind that so much anymore, and even enjoyed it sometimes, but it was still annoying. Fine. She’d play. A little.

She screamed.

/Fuck!/ Zelda thought. /Is this why she refused to be rescued? Her captor was a person-eating monster who would hunt them down?/ And Sophia had somehow thought that having tea would be safe. That it wouldn’t look suspicious?/

The giant brought Sophia closer to his mouth.

“NO!” Zelda bellowed.

Somehow she’d managed to swing her arms at the proper angle to slash her sword across the back of Yonah’s hand. He yelled, waving his hand and letting go, Sophia yelped as he squeezed her. Zelda was flung onto the counter, but she rolled and was uninjured.

“Release her! Or I’ll-”

“Do what, fight me?” Yonah backed away, not out of fear. He looked like he wanted her to try.

Zelda couldn’t leap at him from the counter anymore.

“I don’t need two morsels tonight, you might be able to slip away before I’m finished with the princess,” he taunted, his eyes glowing. “If you’re fast enough”

Sophia knew exactly what he was going for. He couldn’t activate her curse while being watched, it was super obvious, and he didn’t like to eat her without it. Also he had done this play before. Not exactly like this, but the same threat, the same promise, which was just bait. Either they took it or fled, and Yonah would eat her and then be a complete dumbass and eat the knight too, giving himself a stomach ache. Would Zelda run or?-

“Save yourself Zelda, I’ll make sure it takes a while to choke me down!” she said, a little flatly.

Yonah gave her a sly smile. Sophia felt a bit bad for her friend. Not that bad however, messing with people was fun. So she struggled in Yonah’s grasp and spit at his face, which only hit his glasses.

“Never!” Zelda yelled with practiced ferocity. “If you’re fine with one morsel, then why not me instead!”

Yonah laughed, “I was planning to eat you both earlier, and I could easily catch you! Or did you fail to realize that I am not a mere half-giant, but a great and powerful wizard!?”

Zelda panicked. She had of course realized, she knew he was a mage before knowing he was a half-giant. But wizard? She was fucked. He never planned to let her go in the first place, he was just playing with his food.

“If you eat her, then the knights will stop coming!”

“So?” Yonah huffed, “I don’t like knights,” he held up his bleeding hand, and then licked the blood. That was a jerk move even for him, it would make being eaten even more unpleasant! However, it did make him look much more menacing.

“But, she attracts them, and-”

The giant’s laughter cut her off, “You’d rather offer yourself up, and let other knights meet the same fate, than let her die?”

“No!” Zelda growled, “Someone will rescue her, but that won’t happen if she’s dead!”

There was a long moment of silence. It was really just like 5 seconds but to Zelda it was an eternity, as time slowed down. The giant could just eat them both and get on with his life unburdened. Then things sped up as the giant laughed.

“Very well then.” He smiled wide, his teeth glistening with his own blood.

“Drop the princess,” Zelda ordered, but the giant still smiled.

“You drop your sword first.”

“Yonah don’t you dare drop me!” Sophia hissed, but couldn’t know if he heard her.

Zelda waivered, but then relaxed her stance. Hanging her head, she let go and the sword clattered next to her. When she looked up the wizard still held her friend.

“Well!”

“Im not stupid, young knight, you need to drop all your weapons, I can’t have you damaging my poor stomach, not when it’s so excited to meet you!”

And indeed as he pat his generous middle it let out a low rumble. Zelda paled. She was going to meet her end inside this giant, and there was nothing she could do about it. She would be gone and it would be a long time before anyone figured out what had happened to her.

She removed the short sword from her back and the knives on her calves. And also her satchel of pastries. Soohia would find them later, a final gift. When she looked up again everything was distorted. Great. Her first quest and she would go down not fighting but crying. Maybe she didn’t deserve to be a knight.

“Very good.”

The giant took a step forward and released Sophia, who ran to hug the now trembling Zelda.

Sophia wanted to tell her it would be alright, but explaining would just be putting off the inevitable. Zelda probably wouldn’t even believe her. And she still wasn’t sure if Yonah would punish her for it. Maybe by eating Zelda for real. Just because Yonah couldn’t kill her, didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to kill knights. He was in fact very much allowed to kill knights who tried to rescue her.

So as Zelda cried into her shoulders, Sophia cried too. Fake tears but very convincing.

No words were exchanged. Yonah placed his hand palm up and Zelda, head high, stepped on to it. She fell on her butt as he lifted her up, but her expression did not change. She would show no fear. Not of him. Not of death.

“I want your word, promise Sophia will not be punished, and not be harmed!”

The giant nodded, “I swear by the mountain gods of my kin.”

At least most of the blood was gone, as he smiled wider and wider as she drew nearer his mouth. The fangs still had a red tinge to them and the smell lingered. It being from his own blood, that she had drawn, didn’t make it better. She nearly gagged as her torso was shoved into the maw.

His tongue was so slimy, and it licked at her greedily. She didn’t know if it was a blessing that he hadn’t bit down on her. It was probably a worse death down in his stomach. Her heart beat faster and faster as she anticipated being swallowed down. The worst part was the giant was taking his damn time tasting her.

Until one moment gravity shifted and she slid back, as the jaw widened so slightly so the tongue could help draw her back, though most of the work was from the giant's hands as he held her torso and pushed her gently.

Sophia could barely watch as her childhood friend was swallowed down by her newest friend. It had taken a while but she did consider Yonah her friend. Unless he killed Zelda, then whatever connection that had would be destroyed forever. Thus she supervised as Yonah happily gulped down the rest of the knight, feet disappearing into his mouth and with a mighty swallow the weird swelling of his neck receded down, disappearing into his collar.

He hiccuped, which looked painful and made Sophia smile. He smiled too.

“I like a knight who doesn’t wear much armor! Much easier to get down, and tastier too!” He rubbed at his belly which was now full and happy.

“Ok, you had your fun Yonah,” Sophia said, as he reached for her.

The princess didn’t resist and let him hold her as he sat down at the kitchen table. He placed her on his shoulder and leaned back, undeservingly proud of himself. He’d done nothing. He was barely hurt! And he was acting like he defeated a proper enemy in battle.

Sophia hopped off to his thigh and onto the table. Turning around, she crossed her arms. Yonah didn’t seem to care.

“I mean it, you need to spit her out.”

Yonah opened his eyes and looked up wistfully.

“She’s not even struggling.”

“Why would she? She’s accepted her death!”

“Ah, well, I’m sure she’ll give me a good performance once my stomach acids start to go to work. They always do.”

That got him a scream and a scramble but then.

“I’ll never give you any such satisfaction!”

Yonah sighed and patted his stomach. “Sure sure, whatever you say my little snack! You were delicious. Not as good as some other knights, but I’m not complaining.”

This knight, Zelda, had actually been supremely tasty. And delightfully filling, so big and bulky, a challenge to swallow but so worth it. He wished he could keep her there longer. Ah well, he could always eat Sophia later if he felt peckish!

Speaking of! The princess was back on his thigh, glaring at him with her warm brown eyes. Except they were so cold.

“No, you’ll spit her out before she’s hurt at all!”

Yonah sat up and held his hands with his palms forward.

“Okay okay, Just give me a minute.”

Sophia nodded, she knew Yonah had to catch his breath, or he might not be able to spit up her friend.

“The blood was a little much,” Sophia critiqued, smirking.

“Really? I thought it made me very savage looking.” He licked his lips again.

“It did but it was gross!”

Zelda didn’t think to do anything but curl up and cry, wait for the inevitable. It was humid and rank and dark. So completely dark. The slimy walls pushed at her, played with her. At least Sophia wasn’t in here.

There was a lot of movement and talk from the giant, he was talking to Sophia! From the tone of his voice he barely cared that she was in his stomach, guess she was just food to him now. Wait.

Were?

They talking about her?

“I’m letting her out /mumble/ you owe me!”

“Owe YOU- mumble- fucker!”

“Cranky because I’m going to eat you?”

The next shout from Sophia was incoherent as Zelda’s pulse roared in her ears. She’d let herself get eaten for nothing! Wait, no. The giant said let her out. Sophia had somehow convinced the giant to let them switch places! Well that wasn’t going to happen.

A sharp movement at her shoulder told her the giant was poking at her.

“I’m spitting you up now.”

“THE HELL YOU ARE!”

Sophia and Yonah stared at each other with disbelief.

“You don’t really want to die do you?” Yonah poked his stomach again, a little warily.

“Of course not! But I heard you. You’re going to eat Sophia!”

The chuckles made her bounce.

“I was going to regardless!”

“Yonah” Sophia hissed lowly, “You’re not helping!”

“You motherfucker! You lied!”

Yonah stood up and walked over to the sink, which was still running. He plugged it and leaned over.

And started hacking.

The lump in his stomach didn’t move. He pressed a hand to his middle. Trying again. Blood rushed to his head and he wheezed. Nothing!

Zelda spread out her arms and legs, bracing herself against the walls. It constricted, but was not strong enough.

“You promised! You promised if you ate me you wouldn’t hurt Sophia!”

A binding word like that was powerful and should he break it, there would be consequences. But if she didn’t die then that word meant nothing! And he could do what he wanted to Sophia.

Yonah sat on the floor, trembling. Sophia ran up to him, her eyes almost alight with fire. She stood on his thigh and pounded on his stomach.

“Zelda, don’t be a fool! He’s not going to hurt me! Don’t die for nothing!”

Sophia looked up at Yonah with eyes full of hot tears. Yonah looked stricken, he didn’t want to kill Zelda either. He breathed. And spoke.

“Z-Zelda was it? I really don’t want to kill you, and I could never hurt Sophia! I’ve got to spit you up.”

“LIES!” She cried.

Dammit Yonah! There was really no time to explain.

“Zelda you have to trust me, Yonah’s my friend.” She glared at him, and he knew their friendship could end tonight.

Yonah also knew that Zelda would pass out before his stomach did too much damage and he could spit her up then, just not unharmed. It was a last resort move.

“Please, Zelda, I'm begging you.”

Then she leaned her palms on the wizard, pressed into his stomach.

“If you don’t let Yonah spit you up, I’ll go in and push you out!”

“WHAT!” No. She wouldn’t dare.

The air and flesh grew hotter around her and her skin was starting to sting.

With a grunt Yonah stood up again. He wasn’t fully recovered, but he was going to make another attempt.

“Last chance to make the return journey an easy one, I suggest you take it.” His voice rumbled. Then he made his voice soft as he rubbed his stomach. “I never intended to kill you, and definitely not Sophia.”

Sophia had held onto his robes and scrambled up them, then leapt to the sink.

Ok. Ok. As Zelda felt another twinge of pain her mind cleared for a second. It heard the pleading sorrowful tones.

“Well!” The desperate voice of the giant flooded her chamber.

“Ok!”

She untensed, and as the stomach constricted, she held her hands in front of her and pushed off the bottom with her feet. Then, realizing she forgot to take a breath before the air was crushed out of her, she panicked. Her lungs burned, and even as her hands left the fleshy tunnel and touched air, she passed out.

Yonah choked and felt the body of the human enter his chest, renewing him with strength. Filled fresh with resolve to get this human out of him alive, he doubled his efforts, and soon enough a body was sliding out his mouth.

Sophia had anticipated this and was in the sink. She grabbed Zelda’s wrists and pulled. The larger woman fell on top of her in a heap. Sophia pulled off her helmet. Zelda’s eyes were closed but she was breathing.

A few seconds later she gasped back to consciousness. Sophia hugged her.

“You’re so stupid!” Sophia was crying, “So so stupid!”

Zelda laughed and then cowered as the shadow of Yonah’s head and shoulders loomed over them. His face was very red and his eyes a bit bloodshot and bleary from forcing himself to vomit. But he was smiling, even if he was wheezing.

“You wouldn’t really have come after me, would you?”

Sophia dropped Zelda with a splash and put her arms on her hips.

“I sure would have!”

She helped Zelda stand and led her to the faucet, which Yonah turned back on. Zelda took a cold and welcome shower, in her clothes which were quite possibly ruined. And Sophia finally explained everything. Especially about her curse. It took a lot of repeated statements about the half formed nature of the enchantment and the state of being glass, and saying over and over again that yes, it made her safe to be eaten.

Once clean but still in shock, wrapped in a warm towel and given a cup of tea that Yonah brewed, which smelled much better than whatever Sophia had made. That batch had been left to steep too long anyway. They moved to the living room, Yonah in his armchair, Sophia in his lap, and Zelda on the coffee table.

It wasn’t the most comfortable of midnight tea times, but Zelda noted how calm Sophia was as the half-giant played with her braided hair and stroked her back and arm. Almost like one would with a cat, only Sophia was a person. In fact she was a person Yonah was charged with protecting and teaching.

Sophia had made her promise she would not tell anyone about the glass curse, for if that information made it to her father… Zelda agreed, Ben might just kill Yonah, but at the very least Sophia would be taken away, and her place was here. All her life she had wanted to learn magic, and now she had a teacher and a friend.

Zelda was extended an invitation to spend the night, and she accepted without hesitation. As her adrenaline wore off, she was on the verge of falling asleep, and Sophia already nodded off a few times. In fact she startled away when Yonah stood up, but stayed in his hand as he carried her and Zelda to the bedroom.

They were placed on the nightstand as he changed back into pajamas, and left to brush his teeth. Zelda walked over to examine the large golden birdcage. Through the bars she could see a suspended bed as well as a vanity and a few ornate chests and drawers.

“So you are kept in a cage!” she said.

“Not a locked one,” Sophia pointed out. “Yonah figured he’d uphold at least some of the traditions of evil giants. Though… I only use it about a two thirds of the time.”

Zelda was about to ask why when Yonah sat on his bed and Sophia took a running jump and landed on his pillow.

“You can sleep in my bed if you like, but if I were to make a suggestion-” She looked up at Yonah, who carefully lay down- “Yonah makes for a better one!”

Having just taken a trip into the giant's stomach Zelda was not inclined to get so close to him. Sure, she let him pick her up, but being held and sleeping either on top of him or in his embrace were different things. Even if Sophia was looking at her with a hint of excitement, like they were kids again and this was a sleepover. It wasn’t. It was a botched fairytale.

“I’ll take the cage,” she said, bowing her head a bit, “Goodnight Sophia. and you too, Yonah.”

Of course the bed in the cage was luxurious, with the softest blankets and comfiest pillows. It swayed gently and Zelda started to question Sophia’s statement that Yonah was somehow a better bed, but fell asleep before the thoughts fully formed.

---

She woke up dazed and confused, wondering where she was and how she had ended up in a cage! Alarm pulsed through her, chasing away her grogginess away and pulling along the memories of the previous day. The attempt at rescue, finding out Sophia was just fine. Being… eaten… and then spat up! That had all happened.

Normally she started her mornings with exercises and stretches, so why should that change? The cage was roomy enough and the bars were perfect for doing things like pull-ups.

“What are you doing?”

Looking up, Zelda saw Sophia on the nightstand. Zelda had her legs hooked on the bars and was doing crunches. She did one more, then held herself up, one hand around a bar.

“Knights don’t stay strong by slacking off,” Zelda said, and continued her reps.

“I’ve been telling Sophia that she should work out in the mornings,” Yonah came to stand next to Sophia. Sophia whipped her head around.

“But I don’t need to!” She cried.

“It would be good if you could get around here without my carrying you,” he pointed out.

“I do that just fine!”

“You could do better, I don’t want you falling off things while I’m not here!”

Zelda decided to tune them out. This didn’t concern her. Until.

“Fine!” and Sophia climbed onto the cage and to the door. Yonah disappeared out of the room.

“Zelda, could you show me some exercises that might make me a better climber?”

Zelda dropped to the floor. “I certainly could!”

“I’ve never known Her Royal Highness to be so easily convinced to do something she didn’t want to do,” Zelda pointed out as she showed Sophia how to use the bars of her cage to build up her arm strength.

“Yeah well, I only agreed to after he agreed to do so with me.”

Yonah returned about ten minutes later, freshly shaved. Out of a dresser, he fished a pair of overalls and thick plaid shirt, and from a wardrobe on top took out a smaller outfit, which he handed off to Sophia. Zelda felt suddenly self conscious in her undersilks, which weren’t exactly fresh and clean, nor proper clothes.

Turns out Yonah had a set of clothes for her as well. Or at least the magic wardrobe did. Nothing fancy, but Sophia wasn’t wearing normal royal apparel. In fact she had on overalls. Except for her long intricate braid and sparkling golden tiara, she looked like a commoner. A farmer.

The wizard did too, though with his bulky figure and hairy arms he looked more like a lumberjack who wouldn’t be out of place living in a cabin in the woods, not a grand magic tower. Zelda was still the odd one out but at least she wasn’t in what were essentially underwear.

“Are you going to stay for breakfast?” Sophia asked.

Oh she absolutely was. There was no way she wanted to make the trek back to the city on an empty stomach. SHIT.

“The pastries!” she wailed with despair.

Yonah and Sophia looked at each other in confusion.

Back in the kitchen, Zelda retrieved the satchel, which was right where she had dropped it last night. Miserably she showed Sophia, who understood her sorrow immediately.

“You brought me koftashen?” she looked at Yonah, “These were my favorite from back home! But they do taste the best when fresh.”

Yonah had been watching curiously and one corner of his mouth turned up.

“How long ago were these baked?” he asked.

“About a day,” Zelda said, “almost exactly a day.”

“Perfect,” he held out his hand expectantly.

Zelda took back the koftashen protectively. What if he just ate them! They could still be decent, even if they spent the night in the sack. They wouldn’t even be a proper bite for the wizard; he couldn’t appreciate them!

“Oh! Do give them to him, Zelda,” Sophia didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

She hesitated but trusted her friend.

With the pastries in his palm his cupped them in his hands. Yonah’s eyes began to glow and he brought his hands to his mouth. Zelda was about to protest when Yonah blew into his hands and light flashed between his fingers. When he opened them up the savory smells spread out in a wave.

“My friend Shoshana is a baker, she invented this spell,” he said, “As long as it’s only been a day or two, it can make most baked goods nearly fresh again. It doesn’t work on everything, but I had to try!”

Sophia had gotten out a small plate and took the hot koftashen from Yonah’s hand. Small for Yonah that is, since it was a serving platter. “Smells like it worked!” she declared.

Yonah worked quickly to set up before the goods cooled down. First he placed the princess and knight on the kitchen table, which had on top of it a smaller human sized table. It had only one chair, and no plates or utensils. Then He got the additional arrangements and to Zelda’s surprise, two more human sized chairs.

She watched with fascination as the half-giant took a pouch from his overall’s pocket and took out a small pinch of powder which he dabbed onto his tongue. Then he placed his hands on the table and said a spell in a language she recognized as giant but could not understand the words (Knights learn some giant, but mostly phrases needed to challenge them to battle). There was a puff of grey smoke and the wizard was hanging off the edge of the table but hauled himself up. Again Zelda was impressed, this time by his strength.

He was still very large, probably a foot and half taller than herself, but should he claim to be human Zelda would believe it. Even with his very giant-folk fangs. There were plenty of humans with strange anatomical features, usually a manifestation of fey blood. Fairies certainly loved to fuck with humans in every way possible.

It was definitely weird for all of them to be sitting at the human table. Yonah might look convincingly human, but he was meant to be a half-giant. Also, she and Sophia watched in anticipation as Yonah took a bite out of a koftashen. There was a palpable expectation for him to like Sophia’s favorite local confection.

Inside the soft dough was a mixture of beef and lamb, and there was a crunch of collard greens. He recognized a lot of the spices as the flavor spread across his tongue, though there were aspects to the flavor he could not identify. He couldn’t call it a new favorite of his, but

“This is very delicious!” he declared and Sophia beamed, finally taking a bite of her own, Zelda following suit.

Yonah finished his rather quickly and got up to make himself the rest of his breakfast while the humans managed to fill up on koftashen. He also got himself a cup of coffee. Sophia didn’t drink it, but he asked Zelda, and she did.

“I’m sorry this quest was a dud,” Sophia said, and Zelda stiffened.

Should she talk about her failure so soon?

“It’s not your fault, I should have done more research,” Zelda said, “I got a little ahead of myself at the prospect of rescuing a friend.”

Sophia took a second pastry.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t eventually rescue someone royal.” She said it with her mouth full, and Zelda tried not to laugh, “Just not me. If I had to guess” she tapped the koft against her chin, “Probably Sasha!”

“S-Sasha?”

The wizard returned but didn’t interrupt the conversation, and tucked into his breakfast of buckwheat and fish.

“They’re 18 now, and I know they want to have a fairytale.” Sophia took another bite before continuing, and Zelda was way too flustered to respond in the meantime, “And I know you have a crush on them.”

Yonah almost choked, and Zelda nearly fainted.

“Oh come on, I saw how you two danced at The Party.”

Zelda remembered that very clearly, but it was 5 years ago and Sophia still remembered it too. How many other people knew?

“And how you both hugged and cried the day you left for knight school.”

It was embarrassing having her feelings exposed in front of what was essentially a stranger, even if he was Sophia’s friend. But Sophia’s words filled her with hope. How could she have been so stupid! Of course she was meant to complete a tale with Sasha. Everything made perfect sense, now that she thought about it.

Finally it was time to leave. They all went up to the workshop and Zelda put on her armor. Yonah had moved it into a workbench drawer last night, though Zelda couldn’t think when he could have done that.

“Shiny things left out tend to be stolen by the giant crows,” Yonah said, “They don’t bother people much, but you have to be careful with your stuff.”

Nechesh was waiting in the orchard, overstuffed on magic apples but able to travel. Though she wouldn’t let Zelda mount her until she convinced Yonah to give them a bushel of apples to travel with. While Yonah gathered the apples, Sophia and Sasha said their farewells.

“Guess I’ll see you at the wedding!” Zelda said. 2 months was much shorter than 5 years but it still felt like a long time before seeing her friend again.

“Make sure you dance with Sasha,” Sophia advised, and Zelda nodded.

Yonah finished fascening the basket to Nechesh and Zelda climbed on her back.

Spurring her horse to a trot, she took one look back to wave goodbye. The little princess and her guardian wizard waving from the garden looked picture perfect.

“I’ll save one dance for you,” Zelda said before out of earshot.

“I’ll hold you to that!”

[FIN] if you liked PLEASE REBLOG!

REBLOGS HELP SPREAD MY WORK! I also love knowing that people read my stories! My askbox and DMs are OPEN!!! let me know!!!

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’]

#safe vore #soft vore #extreme cuddling #g/t vore #nonfatal vore #fearplay #unwilling

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threeletterslife · 4 years

Text

Our Love Like Fibonacci

→ summary: Namjoon likes to solve the never-ending Fibonacci Sequence. The act is reassuring, satisfying, even. It reminds him that there are things other than his life that are never-ending.

→ pairing/rating: namjoon x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 95% mellow angst, 5% fluff | reincarnation!au & immortal!au

→ warnings: death, very brief mention of suicides

→ wordcount: 2.5k

→ a/n: thank you to the wonderful @aaugustlee, @fangirlfeelz and @meowxyoong for beta reading!

♫: Jamais Vu by BTS | Something Better (feat. Lady Antebellum) by Audien

cr.

There is no one on this Earth who has endured more misfortune than Kim Namjoon. Namjoon likes to tell himself that he is in a blessed curse. For more than one thousand years, Namjoon's been stuck at the age of seventeen. He has not aged one single bit physically, but his mind has gone through much more than what an average man would experience in his lifetime. Namjoon's known disastrous conflict, suffered through world wars, survived global pandemics and loved only one woman in his life.

That woman is you.

For 1,026 years, Namjoon has been a man of change. He has accustomed himself to more than thousands of cultures around the world, learned hundreds of languages and fought through the perils of social media in the recent twenty-first century. But if one thing hasn't changed at all; that's you.

You're fated to die at the tender age of seventeen—the same age that Namjoon is stuck in for all of eternity. And fate so happens to bring you and Namjoon together every time. Just a week before your death, you are always scheduled to meet this immortal Kim Namjoon. You are to fall in love with him in seven days and convince yourself that you will live with him forever and ever. Then the universe will cruelly take your life.

Namjoon's watched you die many times. Sometimes, he is unable to hold you in his arms when you're at your very last breaths. Other times, he is with you when you die. Fate is random and strikes when Namjoon least expects it.

When you die, Namjoon must wait another decade until you are reborn. Then he must wait another seventeen years until you turn of age. But those first ten years are always the hardest because he knows you do not even exist in the world anymore; the universe feels empty without you. The day you are always born, the fateful, magical day of November 23rd, Namjoon celebrates it by himself and wishes you a happy birthday from afar. He would then wait seventeen years until fate brings the two of you together a week before your death.

Namjoon gets to see you for seven days after waiting for twenty-seven years. It's an unfair deal on his part, but it is also written in the stars somewhere above his reach that you will always fall in love with him. That is the only blessing in this curse.

Sometimes, he has a rocky start with you. The third time you were reborn, Namjoon had accidentally confessed his curse to you. You were confused, weirded-out, astonished. But two days later, you'd forgotten what he told you and became madly in love with the man. Other times, you fall in love with Namjoon from the first glance. It is always a mystery.

In fact, you are always an enigma.

Though your physical features never change, in some way or another, every time Namjoon meets you, you are another person. People are the product of their environment. Namjoon's seen you born as a daughter of a rich businessman, a princess from an obscure country, a prisoner of war, a peasant in the medieval times, and most often a middle-class citizen in hundreds of different countries. Every time, you are a different person with different values.

Before Namjoon was cursed, he thought it had been impossible to love someone through their changes. But fate has proved him wrong enough. After he's seen thirty-seven different versions of you, Namjoon is sure that he would love you no matter who you became. His love for you transcended time and bled into eternity.

He is always hit by a sense of nostalgia or what he likes to call, jamais vu, when he first sees you. He recognizes you, knows you, but you are always unfamiliar to him in the beginning. Even so, in his heart, Namjoon knows he is destined to be with you—even if it were for only seven days in twenty-seven years.

Twenty-seven years is a lot of time. Namjoon has accumulated a lot of strange, time-consuming habits. He counts sheep before he falls asleep every night. He's read every book in the Library of Congress. He learns and masters a new language every few months. He likes to listen to a lot of music to experience the changes between generations first-hand. But most of all, he likes to solve the never-ending Fibonacci Sequence.

0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8... The pattern continues on for eternity and Namjoon finds it amusing. Most people stop before they reach a number of over a million. Namjoon's been adding numbers so large these days, they can fill up a whole document when typed out. Now the digits are too long to plug into a calculator, so he's been adding the numbers himself. The act is reassuring, satisfying, even.

It reminds him that there are things other than his life that are never-ending.

This year marks your 38th reincarnation. You are a curious, intuitive high-schooler with hopes as big as your eyes and an intellect as sharp as a freshly crafted sword. This time, you are from a privileged upper-middle-class family, born as an only child and pampered with kisses and words of encouragement from your parents. You ask Namjoon a lot of questions.

How am I only meeting you now? Where are you from? Why do you know so much about history? How many languages do you really know? Why do you look so familiar?

Namjoon prefers the shy version of you who comes once in a couple of hundred years. You ask fewer questions when you are timid, and that means there is a smaller chance of Namjoon slipping up and telling you about his curse.

Regardless of your changing personality, any time Namjoon spends with you is a happy time.

But you are extremely persistent this year. It's as if for the first time, you know what Namjoon is dealing with. It's as if you can sense there is something off about him. This reincarnation, you were gifted with an innate talent for reading people, for noticing the infinitesimal details no one else bothered to notice. You are an inquisitive, confident young lady no longer oppressed by a highly patriarchal society. Namjoon isn't used to you being so straightforward, but a lot has changed for the women in society over the years.

You tell him that you want to know why he seems to know you so well. Why he seems so familiar to you. Why he acts like he's seen terrible things in the past. Why he seems to be hiding something from you. You're compelled by him and you don't quite understand why.

"Every time I see you," you say, "I have déjà vu."

"Really?" Namjoon says.

"I just can't put my finger on it," you say. "But I've totally seen you somewhere before. Maybe in my past life?" you joke.

Namjoon smiles understandingly.

"Sometimes, when I look at you, I see a man who's dealt with time itself," you say. "Is that weird? Does that sound weird?" you laugh at yourself. "I don't know. I just get this vibe."

"Are you calling me wise?" Namjoon chuckles.

"Yeah," you say, bluntly. "You hold a lot of knowledge in that snatched head of yours," you snort. "Like, no cap."

Namjoon squints, but smiles. It seems just like yesterday when you had been speaking in medieval English. Now, you're speaking in an increasingly popular dialect dominated by young teenagers who use Twitter religiously. It's interesting to see how time can shape you.

"What kind of knowledge?" Namjoon asks.

"You have a seasoned nuance to your voice," you point out. "And sometimes, when you gaze far off into the distance, you look like you're having war flashbacks."

"Really?" Namjoon laughs. You're not wrong. He often thinks about the wars he's lived through, the atrocities he's faced, though he tries not to show it. Again, you prove yourself to be incredibly observant.

"Yeah," you say. "I've seen you in my dreams before. You were my knight in shining armor when I was a princess..." you hum, closing your eyes as if to recall the memory.

Namjoon remembers that reincarnation. You'd been beheaded after the peasants in your kingdom had rebelled against your parents, the king and queen.

"You were the local farm boy I was in love with as a peasant," you giggle. "I have a lot of wack dreams." Hundreds and hundreds of years ago, it had been true, too. That year, you'd been killed off by the plague.

Never in the 1,026 years that Namjoon's known you have you ever remembered your past encounters with him in any way, shape or form. You're special this year; Namjoon can feel it.

"And you know? The day before we met, I had a dream full of numbers," you confess. "It looked a lot like a pattern." You squint. "If only I could remember the sequence... The numbers were increasing, too."

Shivers run down Namjoon's spine. There's no way. "Did it happen to be the Fibonacci Sequence?" he asks.

"The what?" you say.

"Zero, one, one, two, three, five?" Namjoon says. "You know? That sequence when the next number is found by adding up the two numbers before it?"

"Wait," you say. "I know what the Fibonacci Sequence is... But how did you guess?" you say carefully as if you were testing the waters.

"Um, well..." Namjoon sighs. "It was a lucky guess, I suppose."

"Or we're just soulmates," you giggle.

Something like that, Namjoon thinks.

"We definitely know each other from past lives or something," you declare. "Though I don't remember anything..."

You can't possibly be so casual about this. Don't you know? You're going to die in two days. And he's had to love you through the pain, get over your many deaths...

When Namjoon's silent, you speak again.

"You know, I've had a reoccurring dream my whole life," you say. "I die in this dream every time."

Namjoon jerks his head towards you. "What?"

"It's always after I see you too, Joonie. I die in my dream after I meet you," you say. "All my life, I've loved and hated your face. Do you know what you mean to me? You're like a poisonous true love. I was afraid of the day I would meet you because I knew that I would die shortly after. But when I finally met you in person," you smile, reaching to take his hand in yours, "a lot of that fear washed away. I feel like I met my soulmate. And if, no, when I die, I'll die knowing I don't regret meeting you."

Namjoon is speechless. He finally manages to stutter, "W-What else have you dreamed about?"

"Sometimes I dream in your perspective," you say. "It's lonely... And sad," you whisper. "You're immortal, though you've concluded that after you tried to die many times. Oftentimes, I wake up crying for you."

"God," Namjoon mutters under his breath. "You know everything, don't you?"

You beam. "I guess so."

"You've been waiting for me."

"Well, I always knew we'd meet one day," you confess. "I prepared myself to love you, too, you know? And in the last few years, I've been writing mini letters for you to read after I'm dead and until we meet in my next life," you say. "I wrote 108 so far! Do you think that'll cut it?"

"Y/N..." Namjoon breathes. "Of course that'll cut it. That's the best news I've heard in years."

"Great!" you say, giggling. "I hope they're not too cheesy for you."

Namjoon shakes his head. "No, I have a feeling they'll make me happy for a long time," he answers. "Thank you."

"Be sure to read the first letter on my 18th birthday," you reply, smiling softly. "You'll appreciate it more than at any other time."

It's the first time in his extended life that Namjoon feels like you know more than him.

Once in millions of Millenniums, people like the 38th reincarnation of you are born. Those who see things they were not there for, those who are clairvoyant, those who are young yet all-knowing.

You even knew how you were going to die in this life, but you'd refused to tell Namjoon. Most times, ignorance is bliss, you'd told him.

On the day of your death, you'd given a box full of letters to Namjoon. Then, you'd taken him out on a final date in your red car. You and Namjoon had both known that this car trip would be the end of your life, but neither of you bothered to meddle with what was destined to be.

It's always 4:44 p.m when it happens. This time, it happened in a busy intersection when the car in front of you had hit a jaywalking pedestrian. You'd screamed, jerking the steering wheel to the right to avoid hitting the vehicle in front of you. But that had caused your car to swerve off the road and flip over, tumbling down the hillside. Namjoon had miraculously survived, of course. But you were dead on the scene.

He's seen you die so many times, but something about that day was particularly worse. Maybe because you knew you were going to die.

And so the depressing cycle starts again.

A few lonely months after your death, Namjoon opens your first letter on your birthday: November 23rd. He hasn't felt this giddy in a very long time.

The envelope is labeled with a large "1," which means the letters are in order. Namjoon carefully opens the crisp envelope, pulling out a folded note. The paper is crisp, so you must have written the letter quite recently.

He takes a deep breath before he unfolds it. When he sees your small, minimalistic handwriting, he breathes out shakily. His hands shake as he grips the letter, and he begins to read.

To the Man in My Dreams (aka Namjoon),

Our love is like a lot of things. But I like to compare it most to the Fibonacci Sequence. We start off at zero. Then, we add on a one. The numbers accumulate as time progresses. The pattern is familiar, but the numbers never repeat. Isn't that literally us?

The me that you know specifically will never happen again. (Trust me, I know.) But you will see girls like me in your eternal life.

Every time you work on your Fibonacci Sequence, think of me, please. And I promise in my next lifetime, you'll find me again. (Though I can't guarantee that I'll remember any of this.) I hope the rest of these letters will keep you company.

You'll like the next Y/N very much, by the way.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, indeed, Namjoon thinks. Until next time.

masterlist

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songsofloretto · 3 years

Text

Kieran gave me this earlier. I like writing for Kieran. He's a nasty bastard trying to turn his life around which makes him multi-faceted but as a character giving direction he's easy to 'feel'. Kieran never does third person perspective. His stories are always first person and written like a commentary.

Kieran, Nicky, Rory and Matthew

Sainsbury's, May 2021

"Uncle Kieran can I have these water pistols?"

It's been 30 years since I last took a child grocery shopping. It was bad enough in the 1980s with the kids wanting the sweets at the end of the checkout and all that. Fast forward to the 21st century and the problem has absolutely mushroomed, along with the size of supermarkets in general. Before I went to prison supermarkets only sold food. These days they sell everything from sun-dried tomatoes to fecking funeral plans. Nothing is sacred from these corporate giants. There are whole sections devoted to toys so there's no avoiding the inevitable pleas from children presented with their every wildest dream every time you call in for a pint of milk. Our Matthew's grandson is no different. The little lad is only four years old and to him this toy section is like every Christmas morning he's ever dreamed of all rolled in to one.

"Eh?" I say.

Rory lifts a box of four water pistols from the shelf and almost topples over under the weight of them. I grab it quick and steady him before he smacks his head off the corner of a shelf.

"Woah," I say to him, "steady on, our kid."

"I want these water pistols," Rory says emphatically, "there's four altogether. You, me, Uncle Nicky and Grandad can all play with them in the garden."

I look at the box. The pistols are nothing special. I've seen more power in a carrot. But the kid is right. It's a boiling hot day and perhaps an hour in the garden shooting each other up is exactly what this fecked up family needs to bond.

And who can say no to little Rory, who hasn't seen his daddy in over a year. Deaglan has been stuck in New York over this bloody pandemic, unable to get home to his son, missing out on all the drama we have going on here. The kid, innocently caught in the middle of it all, deserves a little joy in his life. I take a pistol out of the box and work my finger over the trigger, pretending to shoot, while Rory laughs and crouches down low.

"Aye you can have them," I tell him, and ruffle his hair with my fingers.

Right on cue the ever uptight Nicky slides up to us, almost falling over himself in his desperation to spoil any fun. He's swaggering about in his police uniform with a stick up his arse as usual. No tie or epaulettes but you can still tell he's an off-duty police officer. The cunt.

"I don't think so," he says rather efficiently as he plucks the box and the pistols out of my hands.

"What the f...Nicky!" I say, and pull the box back from him, "what's wrong with you?"

"I don't think it's appropriate for children to play with guns," Nicky says matter-of-factly.

"Aww!" Rory whines, "please, Uncle Nicky!"

His face creases and I can't bear to see him look sad. I know from experience that arguing with Nicky isn't easy. He's a jumped-up, self-important and arrogant little prick. In fact he's just like me when I was his age. It amuses me somewhat. I know that he'll get wound up like a clock if I challenge his decision - and I'm really trying to make friends with him, honest - but I've got to try and change his mind, for the little lad's sake.

"Well they're only water pistols," I say with a little shrug, "not gonna do much damage with them, eh, Nick auld fella?"

Nicky pulls a straight-laced expression and looks down his nose at me like a seasoned bloodhound would look at a yapping pup. He thinks I'm scum, I realise as we face each other off. He'll always look down on me like this, because in his bright, British eyes I'll always represent the dirty side of Ireland. I feel the vein on my temple flicker. I have to take a deep breath to keep my cool.

"It's not about any potential risk of damage," Nicky breaks the tension between us with a belittling little sniff, "it's about the psychology. Teaching children that guns are good fun and can't hurt anyone is a slippery slip. Before we know it he'll be twelve years old and shooting up his gym class."

"Fuck off Nicky, this is England, not America," I try to laugh off his point but he just keeps staring.

"And I don't think you, of all people, Kieran O'Driscoll, are in any position at all to be encouraging my nephew to take an interest in firearms," Nicky looks down his nose at me again.

I've been trying hard to handle his snooty arrogance for weeks. I really have. But something inside me snaps.

"Why?" I ask, squaring up to him, "because I was in the IRA? Is that it?"

I don't know what I'm doing. I'm 79 years old. Nicky is 45. I haven't got a chance against him in a fight, especially not with all his police training, but it's my pride that pushes me on. I have to stand up for myself, be a man about it. Teach this little arsehole a lesson.

"Yes," Nicky nods his head, "because you dealt firearms for terrorist organisation. And I don't want you playing with any sort of gun, imitation or otherwise, in front of my brother's son."

Deaglan is Nicky's own twin brother. They've never met. They were seperated at birth. Deaglan stayed in Ireland with Matthew, Nicky went to England with Kate. And now he fancies himself as the big Englishman, the creme de la creme of Britishness, superior above each and all other nationalities. And he spent his whole life loathing the Irish for putting his mother in a wheelchair. She was was a British soldier, victim of an IRA bomb, Newry police station, 1975. Sad story.

It was a terrible shock to poor Nicholas Jamie Hawley when he discovered that his father was not, as his mother always told him, a dead British soldier who died for his country in a halo of bullets. His father Matthew is in fact a proud Ulsterman who is very much alive and even did time for murder. Nicky's brain must have exploded inside his skull when it tried to digest this information. When he realised that half of him bled for Ireland it nearly knocked him sick.

But he had to get used to the idea because this pandemic threw us all together under the same roof, forcing us to learn to love and live with each other. And so here we are, factions of a long-estranged family trying to find common ground, and about to start fighting over water pistols in Sainsbury's.

"You'll never forgive me for being ex-IRA, will you?" I ask him.

"Never," Nicky lifts his chin, "once a terrorist, always a terrorist in my book."

"I did my time, Nicholas," I tell him, "27 years in a hell-hole of a prison. Oh Lord I suffered. And I'm deeply sorry for my transgressions as a younger man."

"Sorry will never be enough," Nicky whispers, "what your sort did to my mother..."

I close my eyes. I don't like think of it. And all over some water pistols to make the little lad happy!

The Voice of Reason enters stage left. Here is Matthew O'Driscoll, everyone's favourite peace-keeping fence-sitter. He spent an age parking the car and has only just joined us. He's as Irish as I am but everyone loves him, even Nicky, because...well because he's Matthew. Need I say more?

Matthew is astute. He studies the body language between me and his long-lost son and folds his arms, awaiting explanation.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"The wee bairn wanted a few water pistols to play with," I said, "and PC Gobshite over here has got an issue with it."

Matthew looks at Nicky who blushes a little as if he suddenly feels rather foolish.

"I didn't think it was ok," he says. His mouth is suddenly dry and he swallows, "to promote guns to a child. I'm in Loco Parentis for Rory. Deaglan has trusted me to look after him. I don't want to fuck it up and send the kid back to his dad thinking guns are ok. Because they're not. What would Deaglan think of me?"

He gives Matthew a slow look. Matthew nods his head. He is trying to understand Nicky's perspective. The man is nervous about all this family stuff. He's still reeling from the shock of discovering he has a family he never knew, that the family is Irish, that there is a man out there in the world who shares his face. Appearance and reputation is key right now. Nicky has never been a parent and suddenly, thanks to the pandemic, he's stepping in to care for his twin brother's son. He wants to do a good job. Of course he does.

It's interesting that Nicky never gives Matthew any stick about being Irish. Let's not forget that Matthew did prison time too. In 1994 he shot his own best mate in the head to stop the IRA from kidnapping and torturing him. We've never spoken about the fact it was me who ordered Brophy's kidnapping in the first place. If I'd have got my hands on Donnachadh Brophy all those years I'd have cut his balls off, fried them in Crisp N Dry oil, added little salt and pepper to taste and made the cunt eat them. But not now. I've mellowed out now. I'm not like that any more. I wouldn't hurt a hair on Brophy's head if he were alive today. And I don't deal in guns. Except water pistols because...well they're water pistols for feck's sake.

"You mean you've taken offence to Kieran handling a gun because he's Irish, is it that it?" Matthew asks.

"Not because he's Irish, per se," Nicky says, "but because of...it's because he has previous."

Matthew nods. The simple action brings calm to the situation. Nicky is feeling heard. He relaxes a little.

"I know you still suffer the fear of the IRA," Matthew says to him softly, "I know as a kid they haunted your dreams. You grew up thinking you had to protect your Mammy from them. But it's all in the past, Nicky. Wether we like it or not we're all together now and there are things we have to forgive each other for if we're going to survive this virus. And survive as a family. Because that's all any of us ever longed for, isn't it? It's time to let go, son."

Matthew takes the pistol from Nicky's grip. The police officer tightens but then releases his hold, surrendering control to the father he never knew he had, and letting go of the toy gun. It's very poignant, metaphorical moment. Makes the man in me uncomfortable so I try to inject some humour to make it bearable.

"Fecking hell," I scoff, "who do you think you are Matty eh? A walking example of the Good Friday Agreement?"

Matthew doesn't take his eyes from Nicky's face. A silent agreement is passing between them.

"Shut up, Ki," Matthew says without looking at me, "it's all right, Nicky. We're going to take these pistols home, fill them up with water and have a big old laugh together. Three generations shooting cold water at each other. And it will be safe, it will be ok. Because it's what families do together all the time."

"Ok," Nicky starts scratching at his arms in that way he has when needs to self-soothe with a wash, "we'll have a water fight. Together. But I'll need to get a shower first."

"If it makes you feel better," Matthew nodded.

He understands Nicky's need to be clean better than I do. I've never known a man so obsessed with washing his skin, changing his clothes, marinating in aftershave because unfamiliar smells upset him. As soon as you walk into the house we all share his first question is 'have you washed your hands?' He won't let you touch anything until you wash your own hands at the kitchen sink. Which by the way is a Belfast model. That little detail is lost on Nicky. It brings me a private sort of amusement.

Nicky's scratching intensifies. We'll have to hurry up with the shopping now because he has it in his head that he needs a wash and a preen. If he doesn't get to a shower soon he'll start getting all upset with himself. There's no time to argue now.

Matthew hands the pistol to the four-year-old whose innocence is responsible for bringing us all together. And then we all walk on, four abreast, to find the pint of milk we all came in looking for in the first place.

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beginagainunsolved · 4 years

Photo

RYAN: This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we discuss the destruction of Midland Circle, a financial office firm located in Hell’s Kitchen, New York City.

SHANE: God, it’s always New York. Why does anyone live in New York?

RYAN: That’s honestly a good point. I mean, at this point, it’s just —

SHANE: It’s irresponsible!

RYAN: You’re right, but let’s — let’s not waste time there. Let’s get into it.

SHANE: I’m ready to be disappointed.

RYAN: Hey, fuck you!

RYAN, NARRATION: On August 18, 2019, a series of tremors were felt throughout New York City. The epicenter for these tremors appeared to be located in Hell’s Kitchen, a crime-ridden neighborhood in the city.

SHANE: That’s where the horny boy lives!

RYAN: I’m trying to decide if I want to acknowledge that with a response.

SHANE: You just did.

RYAN: Fuck.

RYAN, NARRATION: Over the course of the next few days, more tremors were felt. While citizens were understandably concerned, local government and the media chalked the vibrations up to nearby construction and wrote off all complaints.

SHANE: Typical.

RYAN, NARRATION: Then-talk show host Trish Walker — who was then known as former childhood star but is now better known as a criminal convicted of a number of murders —

SHANE: What a weird claim to fame.

RYAN: It is a pretty diverse resume.

SHANE: Actor! Talk show host! (In an exaggerated, cartoonish tone) Muuuuuurdeeeeer?

RYAN: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: Then-talk show host Trish Walker — who was then known as former childhood star but is now better known as a criminal convicted of a number of murders — featured a caller on her popular show Trish Talk who claimed to be a seismologist. The caller insisted that the tremors weren’t a natural occurrence, thus feeding into conspiracy theories as they continued.

SHANE: Really? Off the word of someone who calls into radio shows? Crazy people call into radio shows, Ryan.

RYAN: I’ve called into a radio show before.

SHANE: My point exactly.

RYAN, NARRATION: Speculation around the mysterious tremors reached a tipping point on August 21, when Midland Circle, a newly constructed office for a financial firm in Hell’s Kitchen, suddenly collapsed inward on itself. The collapse was said to be the result of an earthquake, something many New Yorkers seem to doubt.

SHANE: Why, because some crazy lady on the radio told them it was unnatural?

RYAN: (wheeze) You can’t pretend it’s not suspicious!

SHANE: I went for a walk today and, wouldn’t you know it, it started to rain! That’s suspicious. Isn’t that suspicious, Ryan?

RYAN: Fuck you! Will you at least let me get to the theories?

SHANE: It’s not like I can stop you, is it?

RYAN: No, you cannot!

SHANE: (long sigh) Get on with it.

RYAN, NARRATION: So, what destroyed Midland Circle? Was it really an earthquake, or was something more sinister at play? And if someone did intentionally destroy this building — why? Let’s get into the theories. The first theory, while depressing, is remarkably straightforward — Midland Circle was the target of a terrorist plot.

RYAN: Okay, so, not very exciting.

SHANE: What, because it’s plausible?

RYAN: The fact that it’s plausible makes it depressing, frankly.

SHANE: Life’s depressing, Ryan.

RYAN: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: This theory claims that there was nothing special about Midland Circle at all. It was a large building in the middle of a populated area of New York, and it was targeted only to send a message.

RYAN: I’m waiting for the snarky comment.

SHANE: I don’t really have a lot of jokes in my repertoire about terrorism, Ryan.

RYAN: Fair enough.

RYAN, NARRATION: The theory goes on to say that the local government and the national government teamed up to cover up the attack in order to prevent widespread panic throughout the city while they found and dealt with those responsible.

SHANE: Again, depressing but plausible.

RYAN: Yeah, there’s not really much to say about this one. It’s, uh…

SHANE: (shrugging) Maybe?

RYAN: Yeah, it’s a maybe.

RYAN, NARRATION: The second theory claims Wilson Fisk, a prominent crime boss in New York, was responsible for the destruction.

SHANE: Wasn’t he in jail at that point?

RYAN: Haven’t you ever seen a mafia movie? They can get stuff done from jail!

SHANE: I don’t think that guy was in the mafia, I think he was just kind of a dick.

RYAN: (wheeze) Jesus Christ, you can’t call the Kingpin a dick on our show.

SHANE: Why not? What’s he gonna do?

RYAN: Have you murdered?

SHANE: For making fun of him on the internet?

RYAN: I mean, maybe!

SHANE: If I die for making fun of someone on the internet, Ryan, I’ll die happy.

RYAN: What the hell is wrong with you?

SHANE: Hey, Willie, baby, take Ryan out too! We’re a package deal!

RYAN: I hate you.

SHANE: Yeah, yeah.

RYAN, NARRATION: This theory suggests that Midland Circle Financial wasn’t as mundane as it appeared. According to some sources, several people involved in the business had old ties with Fisk, leading some to suggest that his old business partners were using his imprisonment as an opportunity to move in on the Kingpin’s territory.

SHANE: Didn’t we just do a mob episode?

RYAN: I thought you liked mob episodes.

SHANE: We need variety, Ryan! My fans demand variety.

RYAN: Your fans?

SHANE: You don’t have any fans.

RYAN, NARRATION: The theory goes on, claiming that Fisk had his loyalists plant explosives within the building and blew it up while his old business partners were still inside. Whether this was to take out the competition, send a message, or some mixture of the two depends on who’s telling the story.

SHANE: What evidence is there for this? Beyond the fact that some people claim that a couple of the guys involved in this company maybe knew Fisk?

RYAN: …

SHANE: Oh my god.

RYAN: Hey, I’m just reading the theories!

SHANE: You can accuse Wilson Fisk of murder, but I can’t call him a wuss? That’s a double standard.

RYAN: Hey, he’s probably proud of his murders!

SHANE: I guess he did work hard on them.

RYAN: Put that up on the fridge!

SHANE: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: The next theory involves a secret government plot.

SHANE: I knew these were too dull.

RYAN: (wheeze)

SHANE: You always do this! You put in, like, one or two plausible theories to get my guard in, and then you say ‘secret government plot’ like it’s normal!

RYAN, NARRATION: Like the last theory, this one claims that Midland Circle Financial wasn’t a normal financial firm. According to this theory, it was actually a coverup for a HYDRA base in New York City.

SHANE: (long, continuous groan)

RYAN, NARRATION: HYDRA, while thought to have been defeated in World War II, has already reemerged once as the foundation for SHIELD, which was dismantled and reassembled shortly after the reveal. This theory states that it was SHIELD who destroyed Midland Circle in an effort to further cripple their old rival.

SHANE: So, to be clear, you think HYDRA build a functional base in the middle of New York City, where Captain America lives?

RYAN: I mean, to be fair, they did manage to hide under his nose in the organization he worked for.

SHANE: You know what? I don’t say this often, but that’s a good point, Ryan.

RYAN: Thank you, Shane.

SHANE: I still think this theory’s a load of shit, though.

RYAN: I know you do.

RYAN, NARRATION: This theory does lose some traction when you consider the collateral damage, however. While SHIELD is known for operating with a gray morality, it does seem a little risky to blow up a building in the middle of the most populated city in the country.

SHANE: They would’ve just sent Black Widow.

RYAN: Just Black Widow?

SHANE: She’d take ‘em all out.

RYAN: Actually, that’s fair. I bet she’d take them all out.

SHANE: Black Widow, if you’re watching this, please be my friend.

RYAN: She can do better.

SHANE: That’s why I didn’t ask her to be your friend. She’d never stoop that low.

RYAN: Ouch.

RYAN, NARRATION: Our next theory is an old favorite — aliens.

SHANE: No. Goddamn it.

RYAN: You didn’t think we were going to have an alien theory this episode, did you?

SHANE: I hoped. I foolishly hoped.

RYAN, NARRATION: There are several versions of this theory. One claims that Asgardians, perhaps including Thor, destroyed the building on accident while celebrating.

SHANE: Thor partied hard and blew up an office building? That’s the theory?

RYAN: That’s the gist of it, yeah.

SHANE: I want to hand in my resignation.

RYAN: I won’t accept it.

SHANE: Ugh.

RYAN, NARRATION: Another version points the finger at Kryptonians, such as Supergirl, Superman, and the two Superboys. This theory has gained some traction in recent months —

SHANE: Because Supergirl ripped up a bunch of bridges?

RYAN: (wheeze) Yeah.

SHANE: I mean, who hasn’t ripped up a bunch of bridges? I do it every Tuesday!

RYAN: Is your goal just — are you trying to see what superhero you can get to murder us first?

SHANE: I would love to be murdered by a superhero, Ryan.

RYAN: I would love it if you were murdered by a superhero, too.

SHANE: That’s a lie.

RYAN: Supergirl, if you’re listening, please kill this man. It would be an incredibly heroic act.

SHANE: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: Another theory suggests that Midland Circle Financial was a coverup for a cult.

SHANE: How did you find one weirder than aliens? I’m honestly impressed.

RYAN: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: The basis for this theory falls with the paper trail following the ownership of Midland Circle Financial. Some sources have claimed that, if you follow the shell companies involved in Midland Circle back far enough, you’ll find the same signature on documents dating back centuries.

SHANE: Wait, wait, wait. So it’s an immortal cult?

RYAN: I was getting to the immortal part, yes.

SHANE: I want to go home.

RYAN: Suck it up.

RYAN, NARRATION: Tracing back, this theory then links the owner of said signature to a man who ran what many claim to be a cult compound just outside the city. The compound recruited young people off the streets of New York for decades, focusing its attention largely on the Chinatown neighborhood.

RYAN: So, there is a basis for it.

SHANE: I’m not saying cults don’t exist, Ryan. I’m just saying I have a hard time believing a cult bought an office building in Hell’s Kitchen and blew it up.

RYAN: And I’m saying you need to rethink that.

SHANE: No.

RYAN, NARRATION: There are several reasonings behind the destruction of Midland Circle attached to this theory. One claims it was a ritualistic sacrifice, similar to mass suicides witnessed in other cults. Another states that it wasn’t the cult who blew up the building, but that its destruction was designed to take out the organization’s leaders.

SHANE: Does — does the mystery cult have a name, Ryan?

RYAN: … You’re gonna laugh.

SHANE: I’m positive I will.

RYAN: The Hand.

SHANE: (wheeze)

RYAN: It’s real!

SHANE: I’m gonna start up my own cult. Call it the Ear.

RYAN: (wheeze)

SHANE: So, when (exaggerated air quotes) “The Hand” did jobs, were they called hand jobs?

RYAN: (wheeze) Stop, this — this is serious! People died!

SHANE: Oh, so they were deadly hand jobs?

RYAN: (wheeze)

RYAN, NARRATION: The final theory is perhaps the most mundane — that the official story is the truth, and an isolated earthquake took out Midland Circle.

RYAN: Now, I know you’ll probably like this one —

SHANE: Why, because it makes sense?

RYAN: Because it’s stupid.

SHANE: An earthquake is stupid, but an evil cult named after a body part is not?

RYAN: No, just — an earthquake that only took out one building? Seems a little convenient.

SHANE: Maybe Quake did it!

RYAN: Why would Quake take out an office building?

SHANE: That mutant kid?

RYAN: Why would he take out an office building?

SHANE: Why would Supergirl? Or Wilson Fisk? Or a fucking cult? It makes as much sense as any of your theories! Don’t discriminate against me.

RYAN: Nobody’s discriminating against the white guy.

SHANE: … Fair.

RYAN, NARRATION: So, what’s the truth behind the destruction of Midland Circle? Was the organization behind this building a simple financial firm trying to strike out in New York, or was there something more sinister at play? And who brought it down? With the rubble clear and the bodies buried, it seems the true story of this terrifying chapter in New York’s history will remain… unsolved.

WHAT UNSOLVED MYSTERY DO YOU WANT TO SEE NEXT?

#beginagainunsolved #episode: midland circle #true crime

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