#i got shadowed banned for a few months earlier this year and i guess that impacted it

[luimagines]

*walks on tiredly, salutes, offers you tea, downs my own coffee like a shot, leaves a note without elaborating* Ello there, how do you do today? Hope you're doing well and happy new years!

So, regarding Lustrous Reader, a fic is in the works? It's just a little thing for context, and to give a little look at how Citrine/Lucky is doing (aka the branching to scenarios 1,2,3,4 and 5, also know as Neutral Ending, Bad Ending, I Can Make it Worse, Bittersweet Ending and By Ordona's Teats Turn it Back This is a Majora Level Scenario Ending), I'll link it here once it's done, mind you that it's likely not very good? I'm not too used to writing 2nd person plus have had a long past few days. Will likely work on the Fairy Tale compilation next. Thank you for listening to me ramble and inspiring me and for all your works in the fandom!

The sleep scenarios with Time, Twilight and Sky my beloveds- Look, those three basically worked together to hook me in on the fandom and Zelda in general, Twilight was the hook, Sky was the bait and Time was the fishermen whom once he pulled me in with his games I had zero inclinations to leave (Legend was the one with the fishing net btw, as if that was even necessary, man really had to hammer it in huh?), Me and that man may as well be childhood friends with how much I played his games when I was younger during good and bad times and still do nowadays when I can (because his and Legend's were the most easily accessible at the time), So anything with them makes me very soft and makes me smile a lot, it was incredibly fluffy and well written so really, thank you for your work portraying arguably my three favorite boys! Was an excellent pick me up, had a bad Christmas (a bad December in general, really) so having reading it with tea was really nice.

Warriors' soulmate au had me outright cackling my dog probably really does think I've lost it now, it's the perfect mix between sweet and hilarious, specially with the fake out and the highly longing thoughts and the Chain now knowing way too much and being generally scarred by it, it's just fantastic and I adore it to death (also Wild is me, I too would absolutely take pictures and videos for future blackmail material). And the one with bunny Legend gave me very warm and soft feelings which is amazing, I have a soft spot for him because, as mentioned before, Time wouldn't allow me to leave and Legend just made sure I wouldn't be able to anyway with his games so once again, thank you! You're doing divine work here and I hope you're having a nice day!

Now I'll be off, kind of have a headache, Happy New Year's!

-Just an Anon on A Stroll.

Gasp- I have tea now... Thank you, friend.

Don't hurt my baby Lucky!!! DX

"I can make it worse" Don't you dare!!!!! Give me my happy ending darn it!... And also the link when you're done, please. I'd love to read it.

I'm sorry you had a bad December, these last two days have been a bit of a doozy for me too. So I feel for you.

I'm glad you enjoyed Warrior's and Legend's prompts XD

I enjoyed writing them a lot. And given that it's been a bit heavy on your favorite boys, I'm happy to have done them justice! They're pretty high on my list too. <3

Take care of yourself, Anon! I'll see you when you loop around from your stroll once more. :D

And prepare some snacks for your visit in advance. <3

#pinky replies #my blog has been the most active in the last three days than it had been for nearly the entire year #everybody's on tumblr avoiding family get togethers #huh? #^.^* #joking #but i missed just sitting and answering asks #i got shadowed banned for a few months earlier this year and i guess that impacted it #not to mention that i know *one* person who sent in the most of them- who i guess it's also a factor

[infaethable]

(part one here)

riz gukgak has been legally dead for a week when he wakes up in a hospital bed.

it’s not like in movies, he doesn’t come to consciousness all at once. he catches snippets of conversations and traces of sensations, the relief of his mother’s voice for half a second, the comforting smell of adaine’s bergamot shampoo that always lingers even a few days after a wash, a hand in his, rubbing a thumb across riz’s split and scabbed over knuckles before he finally fights the urge to go back into the sweet relief of unconsciousness and opens his eyes.

it's so bright that he immediately has to beat back the impulse to close them again, his pupils narrowing into slits in order to take in less light. he's got a killer headache, and his mouth is dry as he says the only thing he can think of.

which is understandably, "ow."

fabian, who riz had uncharacteristically not noticed sleeping silently in the chair beside the bed, falls out of said chair in surprise. riz lets a smile spread across his face, the first in a number of weeks.

now that he's more in himself, he takes in the room more and sees that clearly, he's been here for at least a little bit. if he had to guess, a couple of days. there are multitudes of cards on his bedside table, a kids one scrawled over in black sharpie clearly from fig, a handmade one that could be from kristen or gorgug, a lovingly colored in color by numbers type thing unmistakably from adaine, and a number of nondescript ones probably from distant classmates or his mom’s coworkers. on the windowsill is a slightly misshapen glass vase riz recognizes from it’s home on fabian’s dresser, holding a tin flower.  

riz leans over the side of his bed, ignoring the flash of pain from pulling his stitches (which he apparently has now?) and takes in fabian himself, who’s getting his bearings on the floor. he supposes he’s being hypocritical, as someone in a hospital bed, but fabian looks rough. 

he's got dark shadows under his eyes, and his hair, which over the past year had shifted slowly from straightened to loose bouncy curls, is frizzy, and disheveled like he’s run his hands through it too many times for the style to keep. his jacket, usually pressed (which riz made fun of to no end, the idea of pressing a letterman's jacket was so ridiculous-) was crumpled on the chair as if it had been draped over him like a blanket when he fell. and as fabian reaches a hand on the side of the hospital bed to help himself up, riz sees that there are white bandages wrapped around his palms.

riz feels a pang of worry along with the pull of his stitches, so he reluctantly repositions himself, but cocks his head to meet fabian’s gaze and croaks out (he should really ask about some ice chips-), “what happened to your hands?”

fabian finally gets himself to a standing position, blinks the sleep from his eyes, and says, "the ball. you’re- i'm going to get a nurse!" and runs out of the room.

riz gets about ten seconds of confusion before sklonda comes running in, and envelops him in the warmest hug he’s ever had and holds on for dear life.

and then, in a voice laced with more grief than he’s heard in six years, she says, 

"you- riz you were gone." 

and riz says back, trying not to get his mom’s curls in his mouth,

"i texted adaine?"

and sklonda pulls back, hands still on his shoulders, says, 

"and then you went missing for three weeks! they found three and a half pints of your blood on the floor of a laundromat in bastion city, riz you are so!"

and then she makes a noise that riz knows means she is utterly done with his antics and buries him in a hug again.

and a nurse comes and taps sklonda on the shoulder, "mrs. gukgak? we need to check his vitals." 

his mom corrects the nurse under her breath, “as i’ve told you, it’s miss gukgak.” before taking a step back.

riz answers benign questions like what country he's in (solace) what week it is (second week in november) how he’s feeling (bad) all the while craning his neck very subtly to see if fabian will come back in the room. his mom only rolls her eyes once. 

when the nurse leaves, sklonda sighs and rubs her temples, and starts, "riz, you lost- you lost so much blood." 

riz can’t meet his mother’s eyes as shame pools in his gut, says quietly, "i- not all of it was mine."

sklonda tenses, before continuing, "we figured that out when you showed up again, but riz, it was." and her eyes well up as her voice breaks, "if it had been, there was no way- you couldn't have survived it."

riz's brows furrow in confusion, as he prompts, “but it wasn't." 

and sklonda retorts with a frustrated hand gesture, "yes, well the idiots in the bastion city precinct didn't know that, riz." and pauses to make sure he's looking her in the eyes as she continues, "you were legally dead riz. for a week."

and riz's eyes widen as he takes in the information, "what- that's stupid. i was alive. didn't anyone do any divination spells? or locator spells? or, actually, fuck-” riz takes a quick breath as some machine next to him starts beeping, “i um. warded myself against divination and locator spells, but i think dead is a little bit of an overreaction! how does this happen?!" 

sklonda raises her voice, “calm down-” before taking a glance at the steadily rising heart rate monitor, and says in a low tone, “what's done is done, and the important thing is that you're alive."

riz does not calm down, his voice raising pitch slowly, "everyone thought i was dead? everyone?"

sklonda nods her head slowly, says, "we were about halfway through your will, which, by the way, how the fuck did you, a fifteen-year-old boy, get a will notarized without letting me know about it? do you want to explain that?"

riz's eyes are as wide as saucers as he says, "wait wait wait. my will? halfway- how much of my will?"

sklonda furrows her brows for a millisecond in confusion before a revelation washes over her face and incredulous anger sets in, 

"riz gukgak. you were legally dead for a week and that is what you're worried about? YOU LOST THREE PERCENT OF YOUR BODY WEIGHT IN BLOOD!"

and she takes a step back, takes a deep breath, and says, before riz can respond, "i am going to get myself another coffee, and you some ice chips. and you are banned from “deep cover” for- for till college!" 

and riz tries to sit up, but his stitches pull too painfully to ignore, so he cranes his neck to see out of the room as he shouts after her, "like in icarly?!"

sklonda shouts back, “stop pulling your stitches!” before disappearing out of sight. 

riz waits there for a couple of moments spiraling, maybe he got the old letter, fuck, did i remember to switch them out? habit of forgetting things integral to my wellbeing, please don’t fail me now, i promise i will never say anything bad about you again- maybe they didn’t even get through all of them? or maybe he got it but he didn’t open it? was going to save it for his wedding day or something like in that movie with julianne hough- before hearing tentative footsteps, and looks up to see fabian in the doorway, head down, wringing his hands. 

riz is suddenly acutely aware that he hasn’t talked to fabian (besides the brief exchange earlier) in almost a month, which would make it the longest he’s gone without talking to fabian since they met. even in those long and lonely weeks in jail, they found quiet ways to communicate. notes passed daisy chain style, the odd few messages by way of fig or adaine whenever both of their cell doors opened enough to let magic in. 

riz opens his mouth to say something, act like a normal fucking person, but- 

he can't.

and thankfully, fabian does, clears his throat and says, so quiet that riz might not be able to hear it if he weren't a goblin, "i got your letter."

fuck.

riz winces and looks down at his lap, the green of his hands contrasting with the pale blue hospital gown patterned with tiny dark blue polka dots. 

he holds his tongue as he thinks about what to say before finally responding, "you um.” so much for thinking about what to say, he thinks as he levels his gaze at fabian yet again, “i wrote two. i had to rewrite yours, for- reasons. which one?"

fabian takes a step into the room, pauses a moment, then closes the door behind him. fabian’s movements are slow and hesitant like he’s trying not to make any loud or sudden noises. he still won't meet riz's eyes. riz gets the sinking feeling that he knows what letter fabian read. 

fabian confirms it anyway, "the one where you said-" 

and that’s all riz needs to interrupt, his voice painfully high pitched at this point, "we don't have to talk about that. it- it was a contingency plan, just in case, you know, and we can just move past it." 

riz gives a smile that begs fabian to not notice his face is lime green right now. and then as a further misdirect, he adds, "you never told me what happened to your hands."

fabian finally meets riz's eyes, and his expression is. god, riz is so bad at reading faces, and he’d count fabian’s as his top three most readable faces, on the sheer amount he looks at it alone. he’s. confused? hurt? but that can't be true, why would fabian feel hurt? maybe he's mad riz took advantage of their friendship? but fabian denies that there's a friendship to betray at every turn-

his train of thought gets interrupted by fabian's next words, breathy with a hint of annoyance maybe, "i- my sword. burned my hands. when i made my pact." 

and riz's eyes widen even more as horror and panic sets it, what the fuck did fabian do-

"your WHAT?"

fabian winces at riz's gravelly voice, which cracks halfway through so it can't be very intimidating, before saying, "riz, it's not important, if we could just please talk about the letter-" 

riz interrupts him again, "i don't think my feelings for you matter as much as you selling your soul, fabian, why would you do that, oh my fucking gods-"

and fabian raises his voice for the first time, a hint of darkness and desperation riz hasn't ever heard before in his voice, "you were dead riz."

and riz quiets down, shakes his head from side to side a minuscule amount, before saying so quietly it could almost be a whisper, "what does that have to do with anything?"

fabian gets a look on his face that riz couldn't parse in a million years, his lips the smallest bit parted and his head shaking in mirror to riz’s. disagreement? confusion? riz can’t figure it out. 

fabian’s steps echo on the linoleum as he crosses the distance from the door to the side of riz’s bed. riz looks up at him, so much taller normally and even more imposing now, and he doesn’t know how fabian clocks it, but he does, leans down so he’s on his knees and he and riz are at eye level.

it's dizzying, to have fabian's full attention like this. he almost opens his mouth to question what are you doing? but can’t bring himself to break the magnetism of the moment. 

fabian’s gaze bores into his, and he says again, so softly riz thinks for a second that he wasn’t meant to hear it, and so broken that riz never wants to hear it again,

"riz. you were dead."

and for a beat, they just stare at each other.

fabian, slowly, slowly, reaches his hand to envelop riz’s, and it feels familiar. he can’t remember any other time fabian has held his hand, so that has to mean-

riz gets these feelings sometimes, little thorns of hope that dig their way in and whisper, what if- that inevitably disappoint when fabian crushes them underfoot. riz waits for the inevitable. 

the inevitable doesn’t happen. 

fabian leans in the slightest bit so that their foreheads are touching. so close that riz's breath hitches and fabian must feel it. and fabian has tears running down his face, riz doesn’t know how he missed fabian starting to cry, but he is, and fabian swallows a lump in his throat before saying in a pleading tone, 

"riz”

riz realizes that fabian hasn't called him the ball since he came in the room. 

so he says back, those thorns crawling their way into his voice, hope, bloody and raw, 

"yeah?"

fabian swallows again, and then, small and wavering, asks, "would you tell me again?"

and riz squeezes fabian's hand, involuntary, says, a tiny bit breathless,

"that i'm in love with you?"

and fabian nods imperceptibly, forehead still pressed against riz's.

so riz, with the conviction of a dead man, answers, "i'm in love with you."

and fabian inhales, sharply, before saying, "me too."

and then fabian kisses him.

and this isn't like the movies either, the tile is probably hard on fabian's knees, and riz has to crane his head to the side in his half laying down position, but fabian's mouth is warm and he tastes like coffee with so much sugar that it can't be called coffee anymore, and his hand that's not holding riz's comes to rest on the back of riz's neck, fingers threading into riz's curls. 

riz pulls away, takes a deep breath, and says, "you mean that you're in love with me, and not that you're in love with yourself right?" 

and fabian's face spreads into a smile and he laughs like sunlight that riz has barely seen in weeks, answers, "i'm in love with you, riz."

riz's voice is breathy and higher pitched than he would like as he says back, "cool cool cool. would you kiss me again?"

but as fabian goes to lean in again, he hears a voice from the doorway, the same nurse that took his vitals previously, 

"he most certainly will not. your heart rate is way too fast for the amount of blood you lost young man."

sklonda is behind her, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. 

fabian goes to back away with his arms up in a surrender motion, but at the last second presses a kiss to riz's lime green cheek, before he backs away for real. 

riz is already missing his presence as he meets sklonda at the doorway, where he finally breaks eye contact with riz to look her in the eyes. she puts a hand on his back to gently push him out of the doorway and into the hallway outside.

she says, annoyed in that way that means she’s not really annoyed but amused, “go get adaine. she’s been waiting for her turn for ten minutes, and if she waits any longer i can’t say in good conscience that she won’t murder you, and then we’d have an actual death on our hands.”

and sklonda turns back to riz, raises her eyebrows. riz raises his back, and she walks across the room to press a kiss to the corner of his head. the nurse rolls her eyes, mutters something about adventurers, and shuts the door on them.

#i actually have a ban on riz dies aus but i wanted the angst #what exactly happened to riz when he was in ''deep cover'' ? #fuck if i know #also shout out to @figaydas on twitter #for the leave it all to me fancam #that put the sleeper agent icarly/fh thought in my brain #inspiring the for till college bit #and also to mac <3 #all of you thank mac if not for mac @pastelmogar you would not be seeing this #bc again #i only ever post things when mac tells me to #fabriz #my writing

[limited-practice]

Sunder and Hubcap are a couple of my favourite characters that have a lot of potential and are fun to write, so I wrote a quick thing today just to give them some attention and to practice writing them.

1688 words of Sunder and Hubcap talking on board the Lost Light are below the cut.

[Just imagine that Various Things happened and everyone’s together in one place and no-one’s dead]

>I was born in the deep dank shadows you know. I breathe and bleed them, and if my doctors hadn’t corrupted me so thoroughly I would breed them too.

Hubcap’s wide eyes roll slowly towards the door of the room that he and Sunder are in. 

A huge reinforced metal bar holds it closed, which means he can’t use his Outlier abilities to re-route an electronic signal to unlock it, open it, and make a quick dash through it before it’s too late. The door is mechanically locked with a formidably heavy bar to prevent Sunder controlling someone and forcing them to raise it. No-one except the strongest bots can even hope to lift it, and the strongest bots are banned from this room.

Everything about this plan of containment is stupid, but Hubcap’s used to the people in charge making short-sighted decisions that will hurt people so he’s not surprised. Unsettled, certainly, but not surprised. Very few things surprise him now. 

“That’s, uh, nice?”

Hubcap debates calling for help on his internal communicator. He can do so silently so that Sunder never has to hear him, but the problem with this plan is that other people will hear him. They’ll know that he couldn’t last more than two seconds with Big Bad Scary Sunder locked up in his Impenetrable Containment Cell before he wet himself and cried for help.

Hubcap takes the Cybertronian equivalent of a deep steadying breath, his gears and levers whirring softly as they strain and turn, and looks back at Sunder. 

The mnemosurgeon is standing in his custom made cell as if he’s not at all surprised he ended up there. He’s gripping a bar with one hand and looks like Ruined Death. 

Hubcap takes the Cybertronian equivalent of a dry swallow. He once again reassures himself that Sunder can’t physically escape the invisible containment field surrounding his cell. The Lost Light’s top engineers created it, and their work is solid. He also reassures himself that Sunder can’t remotely access anyone’s memories and control them or turn them inside out. Hubcap wrote the containment field’s code that blocks Sunder’s remote abilities and embedded a neural block into Sunder’s brain module himself, and his work is even better. 

But it’s difficult to feel safe and secure when Sunder is looking at him like that. Sunder’s eyes have been removed and being subjected to Primus knows what, but he’s still looking at him. 

“So, uh, the cell is working well,” Hubcap rattles. “It’s good. I mean it’s not that good for you since you’re behind it, in it, but it’s, err, good for me because I’m not. And you are. It’s working. Um.” 

If Hubcap could sweat his frame would be soaked. This is ridiculous. He’s got nothing to fear and nothing to feel nervous about. He’s the good guy here. He’s the expert that was brought aboard the ship to examine Sunder’s innate remote abilities and devise ways to block them. 

>Your work is good. 

“I know,” Hubcap says without thinking. “I’m excellent at what I do.”

 Hubcap’s eyes widen further, this time in horror at openly bragging about his unique abilities. “I, uh, only meant that-” 

>I know what you meant. You don’t have to hide yourself with me. We are similar, you and I. 

A range of emotions stutter and skip across Hubcap’s face. Relief that he hasn’t been mocked or subjected to a bitterly jealous backhanded insult. Gratitude that Sunder acknowledges and appreciates his work. Irritation that Sunder is daring to compare himself to him. 

“I don’t think so.” 

>We are both blessed with unique abilities. We have both been praised and betrayed and ignored and used. We are both helpers. We are both murderers.

“We are not alike.” 

>Perhaps if you looked inside yourself you would see that I speak the truth. 

“Perhaps if you didn’t look inside so many people yourself then you wouldn’t be where you are now.” 

Hubcap really hopes that Sunder’s cell is impenetrable in every sense of the word, he really really does. 

>That is also true.

Sunder’s dark and booming voice has now swallowed a layer of humour. 

>But we did what we did and we do what we do because we are who we are.

Hubcap’s familiar enough with self-centered aggrandizements from people who think they’re unique and special that he can let Sunder’s pompous words wash over him easily.

“That, uh, yeah. I guess. But I’m not like you. Not in any way that counts.” 

Sunder steps closer to the bars and grips the one held in his hand tighter. His shadow streaks across the floor. 

>Is that so? 

Hubcap taps a finger against his thigh. He should be scared. He should be worried. He should be halfway out the door by now after throwing all shame away and calling for help. He should not be looking at Sunder with narrowing eyes and an itching desire to argue with him. 

“It is. And you can stop putting on your Mortilus act with me. It doesn’t scare or impress me.” 

>I don’t have to read your memories to know that you’re scared of him. 

Hubcap doesn’t respond for a few seconds. His mind skips back many years ago to when he was a Cadet being drilled by Roadbuster. 

“I’m not scared of Mortilus,” he says simply. “But I am scared of what people who believe in him can do.” 

Sunder’s facial pipes vent cursed steam. 

>I believe in him. 

“If Mortilus comes for me he’ll kill me in a painless instant,” Hubcap continues, his mind still in the past. “He won’t take me to the brink and leave me there broken. He’ll be quick and sure and do the job right.” 

>I can do the job right. 

Hubcap’s attention fast forwards to the present. “Can you? Can you transform me inside out slowly? Gear by gear and plate by plate and rivet by rivet? Can you draw it out for months and months and months and months? Because if you can’t, then you won’t be doing it right.” 

Sunder doesn’t respond. Hubcap doesn’t have to be a mind reader to know that Sunder is wondering what happened to him to give him such bleak fatalistic confidence and such a hollow smile. Hubcap’s physical recovery from his ordeal was perfect, but there are some things in him that can never be healed. 

The steam venting from Sunder changes. It reduces down from a thick belching grey to a lighter wispy white. 

Hubcap blinks. “Besides,” he says, addressing Sunder’s earlier comment, “You can believe in Mortilus all you want and dedicate your life to him, but your abilities to hurt anyone have been amputated. I helped see to that.”

Hubcap knows that his stuttering vanishes when he’s on a righteous roll. He should find some way of recording his speeches and insights so that he can preserve them. And share them. Pipes would get such a kick out of hearing him like this. The speech he gave to Prowl in front of Tarantulas and the Wreckers was a classic, as was the one he gave to Prowl when they were on that walkway together. He thought that there was someone else lurking in the shadows behind them, but there wasn’t. He and Prowl had escaped and no-one else had appeared which was obviously good but also disappointing, because no-one else had heard him put Prowl in his well-deserved place yet again. 

Sunder’s venting steam vanishes in a hiss. 

>Is that so? 

“You’ve already said that.” 

Sunder tilts his terrible head and his lips approach something like a smile.  

>Apologies. Let me choose another phrase: Are you sure that all of my abilities have been removed?

Hubcap opens his mouth to say yes of course I am, but the words die on his tongue. 

>Would you bet your life on it? Would you bet others’? You may not like sharing commonalities with me, but you have experience in living with things you’d prefer not to. I see it written all over your patched up frame. You are cracks and darkness patched up with transparent tape. You are hurting, and people choose not to see through into it. 

Hubcap crosses his arms over his chest. “Yes. Your, err, abilities have been…removed. Curtailed. They- they cannot work anymore. You’re broken. You’re the one that’s broken.” 

Sunder sits down on his recharge slab.  

>You have my condolences. You may not be able to repair yourself, but you could help me. 

Hubcap feels his eyes widen again. “…what? What do you..?” 

>Fix me. Remove the neural block you put in my brain and fix me. Make me whole again. Allow me to be myself. 

“That’s, uh, what?” Hubcap’s voice cranks up several octaves in panic. “I mean- what? You really-…? Really think I’m going to- to do that? For you?!” 

>It’s a possibility. I’m an optimist believe it or not. But if you don’t do it for me, then you should do it for yourself. You are eaten up with guilt and regrets. Put one of them to rest and help me. Help yourself by helping me. You don’t have to be such a selfish little bot all the time.   

“That is not who I am.”

>That’s exactly who you are. 

“I’m an Autobot!” 

>So am I. 

Hubcap closes his eyes and puts his hands on his head. Everything is throbbing. 

It’s time to go. 

Hubcap calls in to control to report that his inspection is complete and Sunder is safely secured. The door’s great bar rises up and the door is unlocked. 

Hubcap looks through the open door to the brightly lit corridor beyond, but stays where he is. 

>Same time next week? 

Hubcap fiddles with his fingers. “…yes. That’s the next time I’m scheduled to check in on you, so…yes.” 

>You did not say no to my request for help. 

Hubcap looks away and takes a step through the door. “Goodbye Sunder.” 

Hubcap takes another slow step forward and then another and another and leaves the room and steps into the light. 

“Goodbye Hubcap. Until the next time.”

#sunder #hubcap #transformers #general #my writing #sfw #just two autobots with unique remote abilities having a talk in a high security containment room #they're both fun to write #and need more attention

[zacharybosch]

Playing God - chapter 8 (final)

thank you all who read along with this fic, i hope you enjoy this final installment! don’t forget you can find me over on twitter and pillowfort as i’ve largely abandoned this tumblr due to the whole banning-certain-content-that-i’m-afraid-to-directly-specify-in-case-this-post-gets-flagged thing

chapter 1: tumblr / ao3

chapter 2: tumblr / ao3

chapter 3: tumblr / ao3

chapter 4: tumblr / ao3

chapter 5: tumblr / ao3

chapter 6: tumblr / ao3

chapter 7: tumblr / ao3

read chapter 8 of Playing God below or on ao3!

Bleary-eyed, Jack snatched up the phone from its place on his nightstand. It had been a long time since the taunting Miriam phone calls, but when his phone started blaring at three in the morning, it was difficult not to let the dread creep in.

“Hello?”

“Jack, it’s uh… It’s me.”

“Will. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong. In fact, I think everything is right now. I got you what you wanted. But it, heh, it came at a price. I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

“Where are you? Are you with Lecter? Talk to me.”

“Am I with him? Oh, it’s a bit soon to say, I should think. Give it about twenty-four to thirty-six hours and you can see what he has to say about it.”

“Will,” Jack ground out. “What. Is going. On.”

“Nothing, not now. It all kicked off earlier, Jack, and you missed the party. Well, it wasn’t really a party. You can’t use the word ‘party’ in a house like this. It was a… soirée? Is that a word he’d use? A gathering? An intimate dinner for two? Someone certainly got ate. And I’ll give you a hint: it wasn’t me.”

Jack felt the pit of his stomach drop as sickening realisation dawned. “What have you done?”

“A few things you wanted me to do. A few things you didn’t.” Will sighed expansively. “I suppose I made a few bad choices. Don’t come looking, Jack. You’re not gonna find what you wanted.”

The line went dead, and Jack bolted from his bed.

It took him an hour to get to Hannibal’s house. Jack knew in his bones that he was too late, that he had been too late the moment Will had disconnected the call.

The front door to Hannibal’s house stood slightly ajar, a thin shaft of light spilling out onto the stone steps. Inside, there was a spray of blood across the marble floor of the foyer, more on the walls, and a dragging trail of it leading through to the dining room.

“Will!” Jack called, though he knew it was as useless as the gun in his hand. A chill breeze followed him as he made his way across the foyer and into the dining room, footsteps echoing with a startling loudness in the cavern of the house. The dining room looked remarkably the same as it always had, save for the dark trail of blood that swept the length of the room and continued into the kitchen.

The trail ended at the wooden butcher’s block, which was so saturated with blood as to look almost black. A square of cloth that was very likely one of Hannibal’s pocket squares was on the floor, slowly becoming drenched.

The lights were all burning brightly, and in the oven a joint of meat was slowly turning tough and black.

And in the kitchen sink, an ear.

***

In the bowels of the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit, Jack stood in his office, agitated and impatient, waving a hand in Bev’s general direction. “I know what it says, I’ve read the damn thing ten times already. Just tell me, in your professional opinion: could they have survived?”

Bev screwed up her mouth and scanned the papers before her. She knew the answer already. “Will? Maybe. There was plenty of his blood at the scene. A human probably couldn’t survive it, but if what you’re telling me about him is true…”

“It is.”

“Then I guess it’s possible? I don’t know how,” Bev chewed on the next word before spitting it distastefully out of her mouth, “vampire physiology works.”

“And what about Lecter?”

“No way. There was almost too much of his blood. No-one could survive that. Coupled with the ear, well. Who knows where the rest of his parts are, but I wouldn’t count on them all being joined together.” Bev dropped the report onto the desk with a too-hard thud and began to pace about the room. “I don’t get it though. If Will is a-- you know. If it’s all true, then shouldn’t he have drunk it all? Why leave so much good blood to go to waste?”

Jack grimaced. “It’s recently been brought to my attention that I know considerably less than I thought I did about what Will Graham should or shouldn’t have been doing.”

“You thought you could cover him. It’s not your fault that you believed in the best of him.”

“I chose to believe he was just like you or me, and that choice cost us our only chance at putting the Chesapeake Ripper behind bars. He got the easy way out. Death is too good for someone like that.” Jack sat down heavily in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. “Go home, Beverly. Hannibal Lecter is dead and you’re free to leave.”

***

The underground parking garage at Quantico was a sea of concrete as far as the eye could see, stained and cracked and always entirely mundane, until now. Walking from the elevator to Miriam’s car, Bev couldn’t help but think of all the times she’d come down here with Will, just two normal colleagues heading to their cars after a long day at the office. Had he been staring at her neck the whole time, waiting for the opportune moment to take her and bite her and leave her dead behind a pillar? And why did he even have a car in the first place? Couldn’t he turn into a bat and just… fly home?

Miriam was saying something and it was echoing off the walls and feeding back into Bev’s ears two, three, four times over. The secure unit she’d been living in for the past few months had always been so deathly quiet. Now every footstep sounded like a gunshot.

The first thing Bev did when she got into Miriam’s car was turn off the radio.

“You read my report, right?” Miriam asked, as she fired up the car and began the long drive home. Bev twisted her mouth around and said nothing. “I know you’re not officially allowed to, but I also know that Jack would’ve shown you anyway. What did you think?”

Bev sighed. She loved Miriam, she really did, but Miriam could never just let things lie for a while. Bev just wanted to go home and make her own food and sleep in her own bed and not think about anything for a few days. Or months. “I think it’s… unbelievable. I’m not sure if I mean that in a good way or not. How was this-- how was he working with me all this time and I never knew what he was?”

“You know I would’ve told you if I could.”

“I know, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at-- I don’t know what I’m mad at. I liked Will. He was a bit weird, but it didn’t bother me. It was bad enough discovering that Hannibal just wanted to eat me. Now it turns out Will probably just wanted to eat me too? What am I meant to do with this?”

“I don’t think Will ever wanted to eat you. We did feed him regularly.”

“Please spare me the details. I hate the thought of him being free to roam and I hate the thought of him being held captive by you.” Bev sank down further into her seat and put a hand over her eyes. “I hate thinking at all right now.”

Miriam let the conversation drop, and focused silently on the pinprick tail lights blurring in the rain on the road ahead. Bev seemed to be dozing off in the passenger seat, but some minutes later she asked, “How much of Jack’s plan were you aware of? Were you in on it from the start?”

Miriam hesitated for a second before she answered. “I helped him develop it. And I was involved throughout.”

“Jesus.”

“I was going to make it work for us, you know. I had another plan, a better one. I was going to get us all a happy ending. Will was going to kill Hannibal, and then he was going to wipe him from our memories so we could get on with our fucking lives and not have to think about him anymore.”

Bev stared across the car in horror. “He can do that?! Were you even going to ask me before you sent him to scramble my brains? No, of course you weren’t. This whole goddamn mess… You and Jack never could just leave well enough alone, could you? No wonder he took such a shine to you all those years ago. Two peas in a fucking pod.”

“Bev, please, I just want what’s best--”

“Well maybe I want my fucking trauma, Miriam! Shit, you’re as bad as they are. Can’t resist playing God.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. I just wanted a clean break for us, you know? I’ve felt Hannibal’s shadow at my back for too long. I didn’t want you feeling it too. We deserve more than that.”

“Well I’m pretty sure he’s dead now. So. I guess you got half of what you wanted,” Bev said, and when Miriam didn’t respond she looked at over at her, at Miriam’s grim profile and the heavy silence that was spilling every secret that she was trying to keep. “Oh just spit it out already. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I don’t think Hannibal is dead.”

---------

is that the end???????? but how can i leave it there???? SURPRISE i’m NOT, there is gonna be a sequel! it’s all written, posting will start in a few weeks after i finish up the edits! stay tuned!!

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #vampire au #my fic

[darkhymns-fic]

My heart is full when you are by my side

Colette was grateful to Lloyd for giving her more years to wander the earth, no matter how long or unending the journey was.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3 Notes: For @colloydweek​ Day 2: Traveling. Shorter and hopefully still sweet.

She would only finally get to travel through the world at sixteen, they had said. The journey would be dangerous, continually test her endurance, be full of hardship and rife with danger. And at the end of it all, she would give herself away, so that those same roads she walked on would be safe for other, future travelers.

Colette had been distracted, eyes drawn to the night skies, the two moons hanging overhead. It seemed there were more stars than before. She had counted so many back then, but the expanse was filled with far away lights, some so dim they could barely be seen, while others shined and pulsed within the black. A sound to her right caught her attention, bringing her back to the earth. “Lloyd? Are you sure you don’t need…”

“Y-yeah! I got it, don’t worry!” Lloyd was carrying a wooden crate, slowly edging toward an open maw of a cavern. The Fooji Mountains were so out of the way of most towns, and barely made a dent in a few maps, despite its size. Its jagged ridges made it difficult for most people to climb, and here at the lower expanse of it, it was still precarious enough, the cliffs steep, and the distance long. Lloyd had carefully parked his Rheiard to the side, amidst a grove of thin, scraggly trees so that it wouldn’t just tip over.

But Colette had only stood on these precarious edges, silent as she watched the skies. She knew she needed to start paying attention better.

“I can carry that though.” She rushed over to Lloyd, deeper into the cavern within the mountain, the stars soon shut out, the remembered warnings from before fading away as she focused on Lloyd’s labored breathing. “I’m still not tired from before.”

“Well… you already carried the rest of them down! I should manage like one…” Though he wasn’t facing her, she could hear the pout in his voice, and it couldn’t stop her from smiling. Following him in, she saw the flicker of the lantern within the dark, its flame still wavering brightly.

“But I really didn’t mind! I did say I would come to help you, anyway.”

“Yeah..” Lloyd conceded, but it didn’t make him put down the crate. Instead, he hefted it higher into his arms, high enough to nearly cover his face, and thus his vision. Luckily, the way through was already cleared earlier of rocks and debris that would have been in the way.

This deep inside, it was impossible to hear the night breeze, or the soft sounds of insects. There was only Lloyd’s footsteps, his tiny grumbles, and then a relieved sigh when he finally put the crate down among numerous others.

Colette had seen it many times already, with all the crates she had carried down herself. The light from the lantern bounced off those dark spheres, but barely. They mostly remained dark, as black as the few empty spaces between the stars in the night sky. Perhaps they were too deep in sleep.

After putting down the latest Exspheres they collected, Lloyd then fell backwards, the rock dust flying into the air from the force of his fall. It had been so sudden that Colette jumped from the sound.

“Lloyd!” She rushed over to him, grateful that she didn’t trip herself, and knelt next to him. One hand reached for his, clasping it gently. “Are you alright?”

Lloyd had his eyes closed, his face red with exhaustion. At her touch, he opened them, looking at her quietly before saying, “My back hurts.”

Confused at first, Colette had to smile again. “Well, you did just fall on your back!”

“And my arms feel so weak…” He demonstrated by trying to raise one arm, trembling and barely able to clench his fist before it dropped back to the ground. “Should have gotten Noishe to carry it.”

“I still could have carried it for you!” Colette admonished. She helped Lloyd sit up against the wall, the lantern right next to them both. Its light cast dancing shadows all around them, silhouetting the front lock of Lloyd’s hair against his face. She kept down the urge to brush it to the side. “I really wouldn’t have minded…”

Another sigh, Lloyd gratefully gripping back her hand. “I know… Just, well…” He raised his head to her, hands still a little shaky. Now Colette worried Lloyd really would have hurt his back much worse. Carrying that many Exspheres for him would have been too much, and she knew that. Next time she’d be more adamant about it.

“We can even share carrying a box, if you wanted to?” That was more like compromising then being adamant, but it was the closest Colette could do.

Lloyd didn’t reject it, but he still looked really tired. Eyes were shut again, his hand still held hers, his large palm dwarfing her own. “Hey, Colette,” he said. “How long have we been traveling?”

The question had been unexpected, but Colette tried to do the math in her head. Raine’s birthday had been a week ago, which they had gone to Iselia for that… then the visit to the Toize Valley Mines about two months before… “About a year?” she finally answered. “Hm, or a year and a half…”

Lloyd opened his eyes, resting the back of his head against the wall. “All that time, we’ve just been getting the Exspheres, haven’t we?”

Colette was unsure where Lloyd was going with this, but she nodded, seating herself more comfortably next to him on the cavern wall. “Yep. That’s what this journey’s been about, right?”

“Mm, yeah.” His gaze shifted to the Exspheres within the dark, just out of the ring of the lantern’s light. “That’s not fair to you though.”

She didn’t understand, but she remained quiet, remembering the stars from outside.

“I wanted to make this still kind of fun, you know? But we’ve been doing this day in and out except for small breaks… and they’re barely breaks anyway.” He went quiet again, looking down at his hand, still so large against her own. “I didn’t want it to be like… before, or something.”

They had told her that her journey would be dangerous, that it would be full of hardships and rife with danger. They had also told her that it would be the one and only journey she would ever embark on.

“I guess I do miss sleeping on a bed,” she admitted. “Iselia reminded me!” Because every inn now turned them away, wary about the banning of Exspheres, about this new world that had suddenly appeared next to them.

Lloyd didn’t respond, looking away from her. “If you… wanted to go home, Colette… that’s okay.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to be with you,” came her ready answer.

A flush appeared on Lloyd’s cheeks, knowing. “Well…”

“Besides, you went on my journey to help me. And now I get to return the favor! That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Lloyd considered for a moment. “Is that why you came with me? Because you owed me something?”

She smiled. “Maaaybe.”

“Colette, you can be mean…”

She stuck her tongue out at him playfully, keeping her hold on his hand. A finger traced around the edge of his Exsphere, this one reflecting the lantern light, coloring it in shades of dark orange among its blue surface.

“Next time, let me carry the crates, and you can make the campfire,” she said. She would be more adamant about this for sure! “It’d be much harder by yourself if you had to do both things, wouldn’t it?”

Whatever low mood Lloyd had been in began to dissipate at Colette’s voice, where the smallest hint of a challenge could be heard. “Those two things are barely equal! And I bet I could! Eventually…” Laughter left him regardless, bouncing against the cavern walls. “I mean, I guess I should… you nearly set fire to our blankets last time.”

“But I didn’t though!” she said defensively.

“I mean, you almost did! I was wondering why my blanket was feeling all hot…”

“You’re the one being mean here…”

Their laughter mixed, and with that sound, the stones deep within the cavern began to shine. A light blue that suffused the air, one that made their voices halt then, but not with fear. Colette looked back to Lloyd’s hand, where his Exsphere also glowed a gentle blue. Another soft reminder of how alive they were, of how fragile they could be, and the sadness that they could only be safe here in the dark or they would hurt another.

Colette knew she couldn’t take her place for granted. The stars were outside and she was free to see them for as long as she wished.

She tugged at his hand. “Should we go back?”

Lloyd blinked, looking at Colette, the blue light reflected in his eyes. “Ah, yeah.” He struggled to stand a little, stretching out his back a little.

“I could carry you too, you know!” she added helpfully, happy to see him get flustered in mid-stretch.

“I’m not a crate!” he argued, but she could tell he had been considering that offer.

The night was still dark, the stars still out, the two moons still hanging above. The way to the mountains were impossible without flight, and though Colette did have a Rheiard of her own, she sometimes preferred to use her wings. The gifts she had received from her first journey were still worth something, even more so when Lloyd helped take away the pain they used to give her.

His hand gripped hers as they made it outside, breathing in the fresh air after the enclosed space of the cavern. “Ready to sleep?”

“Hm, I think so,” she said, but she said it with hesitance, with a question hovering in the air. She knew Lloyd would take it, like a hanging fruit from a vine.

“But… what is it?”

“If you wanted to make this journey more fun, then maybe we should do something else instead.”

Lloyd only looked confused. “Um, like what? It’s kinda late.”

She had thought her first journey would be her last, but Lloyd had taught her that didn’t need to be true. The world was open to her, filled with so many things she could continue to see. Even when the days were tough, or when the people were unkind, or when the aches piled on – to wander was never easy. She had known that the moment she agreed to come with Lloyd on his journey.

Although sometimes, she did want to focus on one place. On one thing. On one feeling.

“Mm, if I tell you, it wouldn’t be as fun! I guess we should just sleep then.”

“Aw, what? Now I wanna know…”

But Colette would only give him one little hint. She lifted his hand in hers, opened the palm, her touch lingering. She was so small against his hand, needing to use her other to grasp it, so that she held Lloyd’s single hand in both. A squeezing of his fingers, a soft press against his palm, but that wasn’t the hint she meant to give. She had just been enjoying his touch.

With a smile, she traced her finger against his palm. He learned to read well, even through his gloves. And she knew he would read it well now, for sometimes she still let herself go back to it, fingertips placing themselves against where she knew the lines in his hand were, where they crossed, where they diverged, where they told her of familiar patterns.

Lloyd looked down at his hand, brow furrowed as he concentrated. She saw him mouth the words unconsciously. One blink. Then two. He raised his head back to her. “Wait-”

“I’ll get the camp ready!” She summoned her wings then, pink and purple lighting the ground. “We need to get ready for bed!”

“Colette?! Wait a sec! Why did-” But she was already flying off to lower ground, away from the mountains and to where the glades were. Off to the side, she saw Lloyd rush to get his Rheiard, struggling with its weight to get on it upright.

Their journey was dangerous and full of hardships, but her smile had never been more genuine than now. And with Lloyd finally realizing, she felt it would get more fun from then on.

#colloydweek2019 #tales of symphonia #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloyd #colloydweek #fanfiction #one shot #what did she tell him in the end? #well... that's the mystery! #(i dont know lol)

[fullmetalirin]

Fullmetal Alchemist OG vs. Brotherhood: Izumi (OG 27-28, BH 12)

We’re back to a 2:1 ratio.

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 27: "Teacher"

Izumi has finally caught up with her wayward protégés, Edward and Alphonse. They have every reason to fear her as she drags them back to Dublith.

Someone is really phoning in these episode summaries.

Short recap of last episode's ending scene. Ed tries to run out the window, but is kicked by Izumi.

Izumi suddenly shifts to extreme politeness when talking to Al, because she doesn't know it's him.

Cartoon face as Al freaks out. I think it's appropriate, this scene is very over-the-top.

We cut to Mustang talking about making his move to Central. It seems like he's still in East City? Is this a flashback?

Izumi and Sig are dining extravagantly while Ed and Al are tied up in the car. LOL.

Flashback to them meeting Izumi. We get the scene from Brotherhood where they're studying human transmutation and won't tell Winry. It's much more appropriate here. Same line about them having stew for supper, so they're still staying under Pinako in this continuity. Also get the line about Ed loving stew.

While Al walks over the bridge, Ed walks on the railing. That's a nice touch.

Al brings up the story of Xerxes while they're studying. Apparently, the story is that the country was consumed in an attempt at human transmutation. Ed dismisses it as a fairy tale.

Winry is scared of the thunder.

Ed uses alchemy to make levees for the river, but it breaks and washes away their transmutation circle. That's a nice detail.

Sweatdrop on the villager when Sig tells him to back off. I don't like.

Izumi shows up to save the day. Ed notices she doesn't use a transmutation circle.

Izumi's performance seems similar in scale to what Ed did in episode 12. The brothers do note it as impressive that she transmuted so much mass at once.

Sig holds an umbrella for her afterwards. That's cute.

Izumi coughing up blood is played for comedy. I think it's appropriate, since this is not only a lighthearted scene but our introduction to her, and it amusingly undercuts her cool image.

Comedy slapstick when the brothers use the honorific for an old woman. She is mollified by a younger one, so it seems like it's a "lol women are sensitive about their age" joke, which I disapprove of.

Cartoon face when Izumi snaps at them for thinking she's a State Alchemist. They say it in regards to her circleless transmutation, so possibly it is a widespread myth that State Alchemists can do that?

Mustang assembles his team. So I guess he flew over to Central for the funeral, then flew back to East City to tie up loose ends? But I thought he already finished his transfer in episode 25.

Izumi's tattoo matches the symbol on Ed's jacket. I guess he got it from her?

Awkward interruption when Winry asks if Izumi has children. Foreshadowing!

A kid tells Izumi to fix his toy with alchemy, but she fixes it through mundane means.

Ed catches the kitten with the same stone-hand technique, though he angles it so the kitten rolls.

When the cat dies, Izumi explains she can't make a life.

Izumi reflects on how hard it is to help children understand death. In flashback, she tells Ed death is part of the flow of the universe, so you can't turn it back.

Izumi figures out Ed saw the Gate of Truth because he didn't use a circle to save the kitten earlier. Perceptive.

Izumi hits Ed so hard she draws blood when he admits to using human transmutation.

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 28: "One is All, All is One"

Izumi strands Edward and Alphonse on Yock Island, where they originally learned an important life lesson before she took them on as apprentices years before. She wants them to have time to reflect on their mistakes.

That summary basically describes the opening scene. Unlike in Brotherhood, Winry is here. She comments on how mean Izumi is being.

Ed says he can't swim. So then how did he get out of the river in episode 10?

Ed reflects that they're not the same as they were before, which is the segue to the flashback to their first time on Yock Island.

On the ride over, the brothers don't take it seriously. They're playing with the water and calling it a sightseeing tour.

Izumi gives them a knife before departing.

Brothers comically overreact to the alchemy ban.

We cut back to present day, so I guess we'll be cutting back and forth. I can see why some people might not like that, but personally, I think it's really cool. Keeps you on your toes, and interweaves the two narratives instead of just giving you a block of information. It's also quite clever how the present-day scenes match up with the flashbacks; with their easy mastery of these skills in the present, we can see how much they learned back then.

Wrath is hiding in the trees!

In flashback, they were attacked by a guy in a mask their first night.

Ed is actually the more emotional and comedic of the two.

We see alchemy sparks from Wrath. He's wearing clothes – where did he get them?

Al sits in the ocean to pick up fish. That's clever, but seems dangerous – what if he gets water on his bloodseal? Ed also warns him he'll rust, which makes me wonder why that hasn't happened in all these years.

Back in flashback, cartoon skit when they catch the rabbit.

The fox bites into the arm that's automail in the present. I wonder if that was an intentional detail?

In the past, they try to eat mushrooms but get sick.

In the present, Al reflects that everything they're about to do might be a mistake.

Ed gets the epiphany during a fight with the masked man. He sees a dead cicada being decomposed by bugs.

If the masked man was meant to keep them alive why was he beating them up and stealing their food?

We end with Wrath appearing.

FMA Brotherhood Episode 12: "One is All, All is One"

Edward and Alphonse visit their master Izumi and her husband Sig seeking clues on the philosopher's stone. During their stay, the Elric brothers recall how they first met Izumi during a flooding in Resembool, and how they were formally accepted as Izumi's disciples after she stranded them on an island for a month as a test. They look back at how they figured out the meaning behind "one is all, all is one". Izumi realizes that the Elric brothers attempted human transmutation by their movements during hand-to-hand combat training. Realizing that they had attempted human transmutation Izumi tells the Elrics that she had also broke the taboo to bring back her baby who died during childbirth. The three make up, bonding over the hardships that they had suffered from their attempts at human transmutaton.

No alchemy opening. I guess it changes depending on whether they need to fill time.

We open with Ed flashing back to Hoenheim for no reason. I… guess this is the first time we've seen Hoenheim's face, and that's something we need to know when we see Father in a few episodes.

The Elrics meet Sig first. Cartoon where they're nervous.

There's no amusing bit with them mistaking Al for someone else, he just introduces himself immediately.

Al blushes because this is the first time he's had his head patted since he became armor. That's cute.

Izumi is in bed because she's ill. Ed assumes she hasn't gotten any better, and is cut off with a kick to the face when Izumi opens the door.

Izumi's face is in cartoon shadow.

Izumi insists she's fine, then comically vomits blood, followed by cartoon shift. I do not like.

Cartoon when Izumi hugs Sid. Ed is physically bopped by the hearts, which is funny.

The Elrics go straight to asking Izumi about the Stone.

Izumi says Hoenheim knows about the Stone. Ed gets mad and we get a flashback to Hoenheim leaving. We do actually get some of the scenes from OG 03, but we end with them seeing Trisha collapsed.

They have the same conversation about delivering a baby, but it's more natural since it just happened in this continuity. Sig looks upset at the end.

Similar scene with the levee, but the Elrics don't try to help first.

Now, since I've seen a post circulating about this, I'd like to compare some shots here. In OG:

In Brotherhood:

I'm not saying they purposefully chose to focus on her boobs in Brotherhood. It is entirely possible that they just wanted to do the cool zooming shot and accurately surmised that her hands were the most relevant point of focus. The clap does cover up her breasts quite adequately, which I’d show if I knew how to make gifs. But the fact remains that where in OG we focus on her face, in BH we focus on her chest with her head cut off. I know this is nitpicky; God knows there is so, so much worse to complain about in anime as a whole, and this anime in particular. But if you guys are gonna write essays about how Brotherhood is God's gift to feminism because it's so good at depicting boobs, I'm gonna expect you to hold it to higher standards.

Izumi coughing up blood is still comedic, but there's more blood and we spend longer time on it, which pushes it too far for me.

Izumi doesn't get taken to a doctor; the Elrics ask to be her pupil then and there. So we’re taking her illness less seriously in that aspect as well; it’s not actually debilitating. She punches them away with alchemy.

We get the same joke where she's offended they called her old.

Rest of the scene is similar, but random dude tells her they're orphans instead of Pinako. There's also no bit about sending them back if they fail their provisional training, Ed saying that won't happen, etc.

We jump straight to Yock Island. Brothers' reaction is much more over-the-top. She throws the knife to them instead of giving it.

During the flashback we get a cut back to Izumi. Sig worries the kids will die and Izumi says they'll be fine. This doesn't seem necessary. All it shows is that she somehow didn't realize the possibility kids can die if you throw them into the wilderness for a month.

Scene with the rabbit and fox is similar, but Ed doesn't get attacked.

The brothers complain about not having any fishing rods, and appear to give up on that avenue.

Ed sees Al as meat and tries to eat him. Then Ed sees ants as chocolates and starts eating them. This is how he gets the epiphany: he realizes he's alive because he eats things. I dunno, I think OG's version was more thematically appropriate to the theme of accepting death.

There's like… a clip show? when he realizes this. Unnecessary and weird.

They make… leaf capes? That’s so silly.

They feed the fox cubs when they beg for food.

Then we get the flashback to their fighting training with Izumi, but it's more cartoony. It gets an additional scene where they ask how Izumi can transmute without a circle, and she says her own body is a matrix that can invoke the circle's power. Back in the present, Ed realizes from remembering this that she must have seen the Gate as well.

Similar scene where she realizes they did human transmutation, but she only focuses on the fact Ed saw the Gate. She isn't angry at them for trying it. She then confesses, and we get a flashback to her own attempt.

Ah, the reason she tried it was because she had a lot of trouble conceiving in the first place. So she probably thought this was her only shot.

The brothers try to act like their losses haven't affected them, but we get the same hugging scene and they break down.

Conclusion

The content is pretty similar this time, but as per usual, I prefer OG's execution. I feel like we get a better grasp on Izumi's character by seeing both her menacing behavior towards the brothers and her kindness towards the villagers. I also like the technique of sending the brothers back to Yock Island in the present to segue us into the flashback.

OG also plugs the plot hole of how Izumi was planning to keep two children alive in the wilderness, and also how she could possibly know whether or not they adhered to the alchemy ban. Unfortunately, in doing so it introduces the plot hole that the guy should not have been directly interfering with them, and his presence does rather undermine the "learn from nature" idea.

#fullmetal alchemist #fma #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma 2003 #liveblog

[adventurecatalog2015]

In Retrospect

In May of 2015, I set out on a backpacking trip through Europe. It was supposed to last two months, but I came home after only five weeks. 

While I still have a lot of mixed emotions about the trip, it did teach me a lot about myself. Namely, that it's not a great idea to go to backpacking when you're in denial about your eating disorder.

CW for descriptions of disordered eating behaviours, including bingeing and restricting.

The bus ride to Munich took five hours, and I cried the whole time.

For what it’s worth, it was a nice bus. I mean, it had wifi, and a USB plug in so I could charge my phone, which I took advantage of to watch the latest season of Orange is the New Black while I sobbed softly, occasionally looking up to wonder why no one was asking me what was wrong.

The tears had been building up in my chest for a while, and I’m not sure what specifically broke the dam—maybe watching the buildings of Prague whiz past the window in a daze and thinking gee, I’d like to go to Prague someday, even when I’d spent the past 48 hours exploring the city. Maybe it was the comfortable seat, or how when I finally sat down I could actually feel how twisted and bloated my stomach was. Maybe it was the knowledge that as tired and as sick as I felt, I still had four more weeks of what was supposed to be the best experience of my life stretching out endlessly before me. I tried to imagine Greece and Rome—the white sandy beaches I had been so looking forward to visiting, the ruins, the beauty of Cinque Terre that everyone had told me I absolutely had to see—but when I did I only felt lonely, and tired, and numb.

I don’t think I’ve ever truly experienced depression, but when checked into my hostel room in Munich later that day and sank to the floor sobbing before I could even take off my backpack, I was closer than I’ve ever been.

I had set out on my quintessential backpacking journey five weeks earlier, after months of planning. I had carefully budgeted $6000 for my two-month trip from Ireland to the UK, mainland Europe, and the Mediterranean. I was “winging it” as much as I could—I hadn’t booked any hostels or flights, and had only a loose idea of the things I wanted to do and see. This would leave me open to experiences, I reasoned.

For the record, I still like this approach to backpacking, and my chosen method of travel was not the problem.

The problem was that for the previous two years I had been fostering disordered eating habits that had lead me to lose almost fifty pounds in ten months while simultaneously descending into a hellish binge/restrict cycle that occupied most of my waking thoughts.

I’m still not comfortable saying I had (have?) an eating disorder; “disordered eating” feels better for some reason. I’ve always dealt with anxiety, and maybe OCD, so the way I see it, an obsession over food and exercise was just a fun new way for my mental illness to manifest. At the time, though, I didn’t see it as mental illness.

When I boarded my flight from Vancouver to Dublin, I still thought that my obsessions and anxiety were a flaw. Just like the way I sometimes opened the cupboards and ate everything in sight, my fears were something to be conquered. If I could just grit my teeth and get over my stupid neurosis about food, I could have a good time in Europe, god dammit. I mean, it’s Europe! Once I got there, I told myself, I would be so distracted by the cool things around me that I wouldn’t have time to have a panic attack because I ate a fucking French fry.

As soon as I boarded my flight, my thoughts turned to food. What would they be serving? Would it have protein? Would it be fried? If there was a dinner roll, could I resist eating it? If I couldn’t sleep, I would be hungrier—I would probably end up eating a whole extra meal just because of the time change. What if I ended up eating two breakfasts? I could always just not eat the protein bar I had stashed in my purse; that could make up for it… Shit, the mere thought of my protein bar made me want it. I wasn’t hungry, but I ate it, and then felt simultaneously terrible that I had caved and relieved that it couldn’t taunt me anymore.

I watched movies on the in-flight TV. The first meal came, and I ate the dinner roll, with butter. In the bathroom, I lifted up my shirt and studied my stomach. I’m still okay, I thought. If I don’t eat all of the breakfast meal, I’ll be okay.

I ate all of the breakfast meal.

By the time I had landed in Dublin and found my hostel, almost all of the shops were closed. I ended up getting Subway, because I still remembered how many calories were in my favourite sandwich. I ate it in the restaurant and thought about how many meals I had eaten that day—too many.

It’s okay, I told myself. If I just have a light breakfast tomorrow, I’ll be okay.

I did not have a light breakfast.

So here’s a thing about hostels—they’re cheap. And guess which food macro is the cheapest? That’s right: carbs! My hostel in Dublin offered several breakfast food choices: corn flakes, Muesli, and toast.

I avoided it for as long as I could. I thought of buying eggs from the shop next door and cooking them, but a quick tour of the hostel kitchen ruled that out—it smelled like garbage and there were flies crawling on all of the dishes.

I walked into the dining hall and surveyed my fellow travellers, eyeing their sugar-topped cornflakes and white bread with Nutella disdainfully. I resolved myself to have one bowl of Muesli with milk and a cup of tea. That would be okay. But after that I was still hungry, so I poured myself another bowl.

Fuck, I thought as soon as I sat back down. I really fucked that up, didn’t I? God dammit. Well, if I just eat this last bowl, I’ll be okay—I can still save this.

And then that thing happened. My heart started racing, and my brain was filled with two opposite sentiments: hey, when in Rome! You’re in Europe! Enjoy the food! and Fuck fuck FUCK you fucking failure, what the hell are you doing?

So what the fuck do you do then?

Well, you get another bowl. And another. And the whole time though your brain is screaming at you to stop, for the love of all that’s holy, STOP but you keep getting up, you keep pouring yourself bowl after bowl, and when you realize how spectacularly you’ve fucked up you just and pour yourself some cornflakes, too, with sugar, and make yourself some toast with Nutella, because if you’ve already failed so badly what’s 500, 1000, 2000 more calories anyways?  The whole time you try to be casual about it, you hope no one notices, but you’re sure they do.

By the time I met up with my travel buddies I was so full I could barely move. And it only got worse from there.

Now, I’m not going to relive every time I binged in Europe—that wouldn’t be very interesting, because every time kind of looks like that. Every binge starts with me hating myself for eating, and every one ends with me in pain, short of breath, and promising myself that that this will be the last time.  

I won’t relive every binge, but I will tell you about a few of the worst ones.

In London, I stayed with an acquaintance who I had met through a mutual friend, and who had graciously invited me to stay with her. While I was there she went to work as normal, and I filled my days with sightseeing in the big city. She also very kindly gave me permission to eat whatever was in her cupboards—a nice, normal thing to do. But for me, it was terrifying.  

One day I got home before she did. I decided to have a snack—peanut butter on toast. The peanut butter was good, and slightly different from the stuff we have in Canada. Peanut butter has always been one of the things I am most afraid of—delicious and high calorie, it was one of my favourite binge foods. I had banned it from my house, and even got mad when my partner bought it solely for himself. Consequently, I hadn’t eaten peanut butter in a very long time.

So, I had another piece of toast. And another. And then I didn’t even bother toasting the bread. And then I started eating it by the spoon.

I paced the kitchen, spoon in hand, horrified at myself. Why was I doing this? This wasn’t even my fucking food. Surely my friend would notice how much of her peanut butter I had eaten. It was a smallish jar, and it had been almost full when I started.

And still, it taunted me from the cupboard. My mouth watered. She wouldn’t notice one more spoonful missing, would she?

It took me just over an hour to consume the entire jar, and it was one of the worst hours of my life. I felt sad, sick, out of control, and guilty. At a certain point I decided the only way to fix what I had done was to finish the peanut butter altogether and buy another, identical jar to replace the one I had stuffed myself on.

I still remember lying on Kaitlin’s bed after it was over in the fetal position, in pain, clutching my stomach, yet feeling almost victorious. I had eaten it all. I had replaced the jar. She wouldn’t know what I had done and now I felt so sick and awful that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I would never, ever, binge again: this was the low point. The fever dream was over now; I could see clearly at last, and I would be better now.

In case you haven’t guessed it already, that’s not what happened.

Another version of this story: I’m staying with relatives in Holland. They’re distant cousins, all removed and various degrees of separated from me, but they’re some of the most welcoming and hospitable people I’ve ever met. One day they leave me alone in the house. In a daze I rummage through their drawers for food, stuffing myself on cheese, meat, cookies, chocolate, sprinkles—anything I can get my hands on. I pace the house, berating myself but unable to stop. I’m out of breath so I lie down and think this is it; it’s over; I’m done, but that lasts five minutes before I get up and eat another cookie. When they get home I wait for them to say something—to make some surprised comment at how half their food is missing—but it never comes.

Another version: I’m staying on a farm in rural Ireland. They eat mostly bread and potatoes, and I should be grateful that they’re feeding me but all I can think about is how much I hate that the nice old Irish grandma making my dinner insists on making up my plate herself. She sets it in front of me and I feel bile rise in my throat. After dinner they take me to a gathering with a few of their friends and I eat the meat and cheese and bread they’ve laid out until I feel like I might puke. In the bathroom I lift my shirt and stare at my stomach—to my eyes it looks distended, bloated, horrific.

Another: I’m walking through downtown Brussels with an American girl I met at my hostel, eating from a mixed bag of chocolates. I laugh about how I don’t even care that it’s my breakfast, lunch, and dinner but I feel panic rising in my throat, and because I don’t know what else to do or how to stop myself I eat the whole bag.

I’m sitting on the back steps of a hostel in Amsterdam. An Australian boy is sitting beside me, waxing poetic about British Columbia and its wonderful natural beauty, and I’m eating my fifth peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The calories are all I can think about.

I’m in the train station in Berlin, trying to find something to eat for breakfast. I get candy and cookies and eat them while I wait for my train. By the time I get on board I feel like I’m bursting out of my clothes; I give the remainder to the girls sitting beside me and silently congratulate myself for not finishing the bag.

I’m in a cat café in Prague. The cats aren’t very social but there are free snacks; I keep making passes by the table to grab fistfuls of peanuts and cookies before returning to the cats. I play with them as best as I can and try not to cry.

I hold out until an hour later, when I board the bus to Munich.

When I check into my hostel later that day, the boy at the counter looks at me with concern. I don’t quite know what I looked like then, but it couldn’t have been great after five solid hours of crying on a bus.

“Do you need anything?” he asks uncertainly as he hands me my room key. A few sad tears leak out of the corners of my eyes and I shake my head. As I walk away to the elevator, I wonder if he thinks something terrible has happened to me.

I make it to my room, but just barely: as soon as I shut the door everything I’ve been holding inside my chest spills out and I’m sobbing with all my heart, gasping, clutching my face with my hands. Somehow, I manage to call my mom, and she answers.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I can’t do it,” I say between sobs. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t. This is so much worse than I thought—I’m so much worse—and I don’t know what to do now.”

“That’s okay,” she says. “You don’t have to—you can come home.”

“I can’t,” I say, thinking of the hotel I booked on a small Greek island and my return flight from Rome that doesn’t leave for another four weeks. Oh god. Four more weeks of this? It seems like an eternity, and the thought fills me with a deep, aching exhaustion I can feel in my bones.

“Don’t think about money,” my mom says. “If you need to come home, you need to come home.”

When I finally make the decision to cut my trip short, it’s the best I’ve felt in weeks. I find the cheapest—and soonest—flight back to Canada that I can, and book it before I can second-guess the decision. My hostel is noisy and uncomfortable so I check into a hotel for the last two days of my time in Munich.

Those two days are filled with more anxiety, more binges, and more pacing around my hotel room. Eventually I find my way to the airport and board my flight home.

I wish I could say that when I got back I was instantly better—that being back in a familiar environment with people I loved somehow fixed me. I wish I could say that, after some reflection, I realized that the good memories of my trip outweighed the bad, and I didn’t regret going.

The truth is, I shouldn’t have gone to Europe. Two years later, the memories are still painful, and even though there were some good times and cool experiences, what I remember more than anything else is my obsession with food. Thinking about it, fearing it, and bingeing till I couldn’t move or breath and I hated myself more than anything.

At the same time, that trip was a wake-up call. Would I have realized the extent of my eating disorder if I hadn’t gone? Or would I have just kept going—kept counting every calorie, measuring every spoonful, spending hours every day working out on an empty stomach until I couldn’t take it anymore and binged again, only to redouble my efforts to restrict in the morning.

I don’t know. But I think I’m glad things happened the way they did. The most valuable thing to come out of my experience was the realization that I wasn’t okay. The things I thought were simply character flaws ran much, much deeper, and it just wasn’t possible to grit my teeth and will myself better.

My journey back from that hostel room in Munich didn’t end when I got off the plane in Canada. Two years later, I’m still working to repair my relationship with food and my body and to figure out how to deal with my anxiety.

I haven’t shared this story too freely, because I think a big part of me is still ashamed. Not just because I bought into the toxic attitudes towards food and our bodies that society pushes on us every day, but because part of me still buys into them. Part of me still thinks my life would be better if I was thinner, even though I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that that’s not the case. This belief is the product of decades of messages telling me that the only way to be valuable is to be thin; decades of people all around me repeating this simple truth ad nauseum. Not always with their words, but with their actions, spurred on by their own self-hatred; their own attempts to strive for nonexistent ideals.

This is what I am trying to unlearn.

I haven’t weighed myself in years, but I’m pretty sure I’m back to where I started. It’s hard to make peace with that, especially now that I know what it feels like to be thinner, like I’ve wanted to be since I was eight. Every time I have to buy clothes in a bigger size I panic, and all the old feelings come up again—if I just eat less, if I just exercise more, if I just…

But if I did those things, I know I wouldn’t be happy in the long run. Whatever satisfaction I got from being thinner was hollow. Sure, it made me feel better about myself in the short term, but it was more like a fleeting ego boost than any genuine increase in self-esteem. Because no matter how smug I felt about losing weight, my sense of satisfaction was always, always coupled with fear. More more than anything, I was absolutely terrified that I would slip and lose control and gain everything back. That terror drove me to restrict, and it drove me to binge. I don’t want to be in that place again.

I don’t count calories anymore, nor do I restrict or over exercise, and I haven’t binged in a long time. I finally enjoy eating out at restaurants again, and panic doesn’t grip me when my coworkers bring treats to work. That didn’t happen overnight, and some days are still hard. But you know what? I think that’s okay.

Truthfully, I’m afraid to share this. I’m afraid that you will judge me, or think less of me, or maybe that you won’t even believe me. But maybe someone will see themselves in my story. To you I say: please know that you are not a failure. Please know that it is okay to ask for help. And if you want, I’d love to talk.

#eating disoder recovery #binge eating #restricting #disordered eating #mental health #world mental health day #travel #backpacking #mine #my writing

[kiserusmoke]

Triple Espresso Domestic Headcanons - Compiled Version

@catchthespade​ @maidofstars​ you guys had such good hcs, I decided to compile them all into one post. Hope that’s okay! It’s under a read more because it got l o n g

I feel like out of all the options, Shuichi’s place was the most spacious and comfortable for the three of them to live in

MC moved in a few months before Hikaru did

When Hikaru first moved in, he wasnt quite ready to sleep with Shuichi and MC in Shuichi’s room aside from sex tbh. He opted to sleep in the room next door

Eventually, he found he didn’t want to feel isolated from his two loves ((it was cute and sappy af okay))

Shuichi becomes a lot more relaxed once they’re living together. He doesn’t feel the need to be so on schedule or wake up first out of all of them

MC and Hikaru melt and secretly gossip about how much they love seeing Shuichi comfortable

Hikaru brings so much new shit into their place. A flat screen TV for the living room, a sofa, like 20 different coffee mugs. He’s a packrat but he helps make the place feel less uptight

Despite knowing him for so long, Hikaru gets suuuper flustered when he sees Shuichi walk around in his underwear all the time

MC notices this and comes up with a plan: buying matching pajamas for the three of them

They’re navy blue with white piping trim. Link.

When she gives them to Shuichi and Hikaru She’s like “Shu we love you but please don’t give Hikaru a heart attack and wear pants”

He gives in. But all he wears are the pants. Hikaru is just glad He’s making an effort. MC doesn’t complain since it means Shuichi walking around shirtless all day

MC’s pajamas are a nightdress in the same style. The boys low-key go crazy whenever she wears it

Hikaru gets them all into watching tv shows. They have a set schedule throughout the week of stiff they don’t want to miss

If Shuichi or MC end up watching an episode without him, Hikaru is p i s s e d

They pull pranks on each other like, all the time

Hikaru will put googly eyes on everything. The espresso machine, the fridge, even Shuichi’s briefcase

MC writes shaming sticky notes and slaps them on the boy’s backs as she walks by. Like “I didn’t take out the garbage during my turn” or “I hogged all the blankets last night”

Shuichi was banned from pulling pranks after he hid all of MC and Hikaru’s underwear before work

That day, Shuichi woke up to a chorus of ‘SHU’ ‘ARE YOU SERIOUS’

They always have to be touching when they’re at home

Not sexually, but if they’re sitting on the couch Hikaru is resting his hand on MC’s thigh and Shuichi has his hand weaved through her hair

Speaking of touching, MC will leave the room in the middle of the night to get a glass of water and she comes back to find Hikaru snuggled up to Shuichi’s side

They miss her warmth when she leaves. It makes her melt.

When MC wakes up first (which is most of the time), she makes the coffee for all three of them

She walks into the bedroom and waves the fresh mugs of coffee to lure them out of bed she’s like a snake charmer I stg

• As overworked as Shuichi is himself, he gets worried whenever the other two are stressed about work. He tries to be considerate to them and do what he thinks is best for them; like doing their share of work in the house or making them coffee that day. 

The other bidders eventually found out about their relationship, but it took them a long while for everyone to find out. A few members of the gang teased them about being together all the time, but it took everyone at least half a year to discover the relationship! Though, Eisuke discovered much earlier than everyone else when a certain someone moved out of the employee dorms. 

Everyone started catching one when Mc and Hikaru “coincidentally” spent a bit more time cleaing Shuichi’s room. 

Mc and Shuichi have romantic tension with each other since season 2. It increased especially in season 3, but the same happened with Hikaru. 

Out of everyone, Hikaru goes to bed the latest! Shuichi and Mc have to physically drag Hikaru to bed sometimes. 

Their group chat is the definition of sweet and salty. It’s a mix of sweet words of affection and bad talk about the bidders lol

They have their moments where they’re silent, but still together. They’re all near each other, but they will do their own thing. It’s all very comforting!

Oh my god worried Shu is a blessing. I bet he sends very passive texts to them like ‘You know it’s lunchtime, surely you two have eaten?’

The Bidders genuinely can’t figure out for the longest time they’re dating because they’ve always gravitated towards each other. Like everyone is shook (aside from Eisuke) because they all assumed that they hung out to complain about the rest of the Bidders?? I love how the trio has some peace and quiet for the first 6 months of their relationship :’)

Lol @ the extra time cleaning Shuichi’s suite. You know they’re either fooling around or finding some way to prank Shuichi. Covering his desk in sticky notes takes time, chill

I definitely headcanon MC and Shu getting together first so I like that you mention the romantic tension between them in season 2!

Totally agree that Hikaru always goes to bed last. Sometimes MC finds him on the couch, and she makes Shuichi carry him to bed :’)

I am living for triple espresso group chats. One second it’s Hikaru saying something like ‘I hated to leave you two in bed together, but work called me in early </3’ then twenty minutes later MC is like ‘guess whAT THAT FUCKER ASSUKE DID JUST NOW’. It’s honestly a whirlwind

I love the idea of them just feeling comfortable around each other. Like maybe Shuichi is getting work done on his laptop, while Hikaru is listening to music and MC is reading. They’re all in the same room, but they don’t feel the need to entertain each other 24/7. They can just be

They’re all super protective of each other, but the show it in different ways. MC’s the type to defend Shu/Hikaru if anyone talks shit about them. Hikaru’s the type to get confrontational if anyone causes trouble. Shuichi, on the other hand, pulls strings from the shadows and does everything behind-the-scenes.

MC customized their coffee mugs! MC painted a cute lil cactus on Shuichi’s, a top hat for Hikaru’s, and a ribbon for herself.

They have game night every once in a while. Shuichi always wins when they play Chess/Scrabble/Monopoly. Hikaru wins when it’s Taboo, but MC fucking decimates them in Uno (she got quick hands yo)

MC usually does most of the cooking, but the guys help her out sometimes if it doesn’t end up becoming steamy, if you know what I mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Their group chat is full of dirt on Eisuke. Hell, their group chat’s photo is a picture of Eisuke getting scratched by a puppy lmao

They have, like, three layers of blankets and comforters just in case someone decides to hog all the blankets.

It took them some time, but Hikaru and MC finally managed to get Shuichi to not wear a three-piece suit at the beach. They were both very happy marveling his physique ;)

Horror movie night is always fun with these dorks because Shuichi and Hikaru purposely pick the scariest movies so MC can hold them/cuddle them when she’s scared.

#I love your guys' hc #honestly so pure #so blessed #friends #talented friends #triple espresso #Kissed By The Baddest Bidder #kbtbb #headcanons #my headcanons #friend headcanons #collab post #we may need to make a part 2 eventually lmao

[harryandmeghan0-blog]

Victoria Arbiter: The truth about those royal pregnancy rules Meghan 'has to follow'

New Post has been published on https://harryandmeghan.xyz/victoria-arbiter-the-truth-about-those-royal-pregnancy-rules-meghan-has-to-follow/

Victoria Arbiter: The truth about those royal pregnancy rules Meghan 'has to follow'

9Honey Royal Commentator and author Victoria Arbiter spent her latter teen years at Kensington Palace, so who better to give us a real insight into the happenings of the British Royal Family?

In her new weekly column for 9Honey, Victoria will shed light on the monarchy’s movements – this week, she’s playing ‘mythbuster’ on those rumoured royal pregnancy rules…

As the plane carrying the Duke and Duchess of Sussex made its final approach into Sydney’s Kingsford Smith Airport earlier this week, legions of royal fans tuned into live news feeds eager for a glimpse of Harry and Meghan taking their first newlywed steps on Australian soil. 

After countless airtime minutes spent watching the wrong plane, a British Airways 777, the right plane, a Qantas A380, touched down just after 7am and the excitement was palpable.

The royal baby announcement has coincided with Harry and Meghan’s Australian tour. (PA/AAP)

Little did we know that news of a royal baby was also incoming.  

Upon Kensington Palace’s announcement that Harry and Meghan were expecting a springtime bundle of joy, social media exploded. 

Searches on Google for “when is spring?” skyrocketed, baby name betting got underway, and as the couple received hearty congratulations during their walkabout in the shadow of Sydney Opera House, the royal pregnancy protocol police stepped up to the plate.  

The Internet is littered with an extraordinary number of royal pregnancy “rules”.

Given we have another six months or so on royal baby watch, now seems like an excellent time to separate fact from fiction.

‘Royal women are not allowed to travel while pregnant’  

Baloney!

Let’s start with the boss. In 1959 the Queen was in the midst of an extensive tour of Canada when she learned she was pregnant with her third child. Did she bolt for home? No. Ever pragmatic, Her Majesty simply requested larger clothes be sent from England. Her pregnancy was announced upon her return.

WATCH: Victoria Arbiter explains why Prince Harry and Meghan knew they were ready for a family. (Post continues.)

In February 1982, Charles and Diana made a brief stop in Bermuda en route to the Bahamas, where they were to enjoy a 10-day “second honeymoon”. Unfortunately, a bikini-clad Diana, then around six months pregnant with William, fell victim to paparazzi shots of her frolicking on the beach with Charles. 

The Duchess of Cambridge largely avoided travel during her pregnancies, but not because she was dutifully following the royal rule book, but rather because she was suffering from acute morning sickness.

Though it was set to be her first solo overseas visit, she was forced to withdraw from her 2014 trip to Malta as she was too ill to attend. But in January 2018, Kate, then pregnant with her third child, joined William on a four-day tour to Sweden and Norway. 

The Duchess of Cambridge was pregnant with Prince Louis during the Royal Tour of Norway and Sweden in January 2018. (PA/AAP)

Now Meghan, expecting her first child, is in the throes of her first major Commonwealth tour as a member of the Royal Family.

Like any new mum preparing to travel, she undoubtedly sought medical advice before embarking on what promised to be a demanding schedule. Kensington Palace has been very clear that, for now, the couple’s itinerary remains unchanged.  

‘Royals are not allowed to find out the sex of the baby or hold a gender reveal’

While it’s fun to imagine Prince Harry on the roof of Buckingham Palace, firing at balloons filled with pink or blue confetti, it’s unlikely.

Gender reveals really aren’t a British thing. 

That’s because generally the Brits don’t find out the sex of their babies in advance. The Queen has not issued any proclamations banning such an exercise, but rather there’s a belief that there are so few surprises left in life why not save the biggest one for the moment a child is born.

This is not just a royal philosophy; many parents across the UK choose not to find out.

‘Royals are not allowed to have baby showers’ 

Americans love baby showers. What’s not to love? Gift boxes filled with baby paraphernalia, towering nappy cakes, and loved ones gathered together in celebration of the impending arrival.

They are a longstanding American tradition, but they are not customary in the UK. Most Brits prefer to bestow gifts once the baby’s been born and the sex revealed.

Princess Diana pictured with Prince William while she was pregnant with Prince Harry. (AP/AAP)

Added to that, the Royal Family has to take public perception into account. Given their already privileged lives, they wouldn’t reveal any kind of gift-giving soiree as they’d be skewered by the press and public alike.

But Meghan is American, and my guess is her deeply loyal posse of girlfriends will want to throw her a shower. If it’s important to her, it will be important to Harry, and no-one within the Royal Family is going to object.

‘Royal ladies may not give birth at home’  

The Queen was born at the home of her maternal grandparents. All four of her children were born at Buckingham Palace.

Diana chose to have William in hospital, making him the first heir to the throne to be born outside a royal abode. Subsequent royal babies have all been born in hospital, but in each case it has been at the mother’s discretion and upon the advice of her doctors. 

Queen Elizabeth II pictured walking her dogs with Prince Charles, a month before giving birth to Prince Andrew. (Getty)

‘The Queen must be informed of the baby’s birth first’  

To say it’s a rule that the Queen must be told first seems a little harsh. More it comes down to a mark of respect. 

As the Queen, head of state and much loved matriarch, the family traditionally informs Her Majesty of any major news first. Should the Sussexes’ baby be born in the wee small hours, when the Queen is still sleeping, she is not going to have a hissy fit over Meghan ringing her mum, but where possible the first call will go in to “Gan-Gan”.

It strikes me that Meghan has been burdened with a heftier set of rules than any previous royal bride.

Whether it’s because many expected her to be a revolutionary hell-bent on modernising the monarchy, or because she’s being judged for being an American, bi-racial, former actress, I don’t know.

Whatever the reason, the constant chastising needs to be reined in. The coming months promise to be a jubilant time for the expectant mum-to-be. I suggest we allow her to blossom in a state of baby induced bliss as opposed to continuously castigating her for flouting a set of non-existent royal rules. 

Pregnancy is hard enough without everyone telling you you’re doing it wrong.

You can follow Victoria Arbiter on Twitter here, and read all of her 9Honey royal columns here

Harry and Meghan’s best PDA moments on the Royal Tour of Australia

[ghozt1ng-blog]

Chapter 5 - From the Horse’s Mouth

Naomi didn’t like to brag to others. Bragging was a tactic of those who were unsure about themselves.

    She was brilliant. She was already doing college work on the side, while fending off offers from some of the most prestigious universities both in and without the United States. She had taught herself how to speed read by the time she was nine years old. But beyond that, she had gained a near photographic memory. With these two abilities, she had read so many classics and contemporary works of art, she was better read than most professors trying to gain her patronage. She like to watch three shows, or read three online articles all at once. She had done it many times when she had free time; just set up three screen, her phone, and she was ready to go. Naomi did admit it to herself that the combo was kind of unfair.

    She also loved to take things apart and put them back together. Ever since she could crawl was she into everything. By eleven, she had already begun building her own computer. But she didn’t like being cooped up for too long, either. So she enjoyed running and camping when the occasion permitted. She memorized trails, smells, animal prints, the clouds in the sky, and more. Eagle Scouts wept at her amazing prowess.

Though she could work people or read them as well as Trick, she knew psychology and cool logic. She knew how to handle herself in social situations. Naomi could also lie her way out of Sing Sing. Seventeen years old, with another year of highschool to go, and she was already a walking PhD candidate in so many areas and a budding diplomat. Yes, she down played this a lot, much to her mother’s frustration, but she didn’t want to be seen as an absolute freak.

But why then!?

Why did being around Trick make her do and say dumb things? Like getting lycan and lichen so wrong!? But her pride refused to let her back down from what she had said. How embarrassing…

And also…

Why did this Brandon guy have to get her so flustered and upset!? He put shivers up her spine, and not the good kind by a mile! She could barely think with him around. He wanted to be so close to her. Touching her. She couldn’t understand why, though she knew the answer was staring her in the face. Why couldn’t she think this easy situation through properly?

This had to do something with Trick! She was going to slug him good for this!

For instance, she knew that everything that she was looking at from these manga volumes, and from the excerpt of the show she saw, everything was a fake. But they were brilliant fakes! So well done, that whoever was behind it was master forger. And all good forgers worth their salt wanted to be found out. There were important clues in every drawing and video. Why had it taken her so long to then demand that copies be made!?

At least they were going to where the adults could now steer the entire process and hopefully bring her back to clarity of mind. Ah yes… See Stacey Miles had that power to elicit a sense of aggravation powerful enough to snap her Naomi out of her funk.

Whew! Even if this next part is a waste of time, at least I’m beginning to think clearly again, even if just a little, and Brandon’s siblings are now making copies of what we have. I’ll happily go through all the clues later. Naomi thought. I know a lot about these different shows and serials, it should be a piece of cake to find where the discrepancies and the forgeries begin, and why they do what they do. Knowing that bit is key to understanding their presence in this house in the first place!

The agents sat patiently with a recorder and notes across from Mr. and Mrs. Jackson at the dining table. Naomi dove for a chair next to Trick’s mom and Managed to pull Trick into the chair next to her before Brandon swooped in to claim it. The proportionally challenged teen huffed and drew out a chair to sit behind Naomi. She closed her eyes and concentrated on not turning around socking him in the face. When she cracked her eyes open a moment later she was glad to see that Trick seemed to be struggling with the same impulses.

Conturbatio began. “Brandon, we’ve talked with your parents about the curse that you claimed to have followed you to the theater. Just how long has this so-called curse been going on?”

    “Oh, it’s so-called, is it?” The teen fired back.

    “Son,” his mother warned dangerously, but Brandon only pouted.

Trick nudged Naomi and shot her glance and a quick jerk of the head back to Brandon. She wished she didn’t understand then. He wanted her to pose the question to him. Conturbatio had hoped that Brandon would open up to Ben, but it was clear that wouldn’t happen. Trick knew that he would, however, answer to her. She sighed.

You owe me, Trick!

“Brandon, please, tell us how long this has been going on. That way we are done and over with this thing,” she said tersely.

“Oh, well, it’s been going on for about three months now. It was small stuff at first, but then things started getting weird and everything started changing! Still, I guess it wasn’t too bad until the things that were changing tried interacting with us! Like characters in a TV show turning and trying to address the people looking in on them. Or emails without addresses asking us to save them from a war. And even… Even shadows of stuff moving and hiding in the corner of our small house. Well, with you here Naomi, we’ll get to the bottom of this,” Brandon said quickly.

He laid a hand on her shoulder and she felt his fingers trying to massage her. Naomi shuttered. Trick’s hand suddenly swept behind her, knocking Brandon’s hand away, and then tapped his mom back.

“Does this sound familiar to any other strange cases from the Q Files,” Trick asked.

Susan Brown shrugged, but Agent Miles answered, “Oh, there are many elements that are similar to dozens of cases, but from what we’ve heard from the Jackson, this is something else entirely.”

“And it seems to revolve around you, Brandon,” the Sphinx said earnestly. “We need to know everything. Every little detail might help us to better understand and stop this odd phenomena. Because whatever it was originally, it is clearly becoming mobile and violent.”

Brandon was enraged by having his hand swiped away from Naomi’s shoulder, for which she was grateful. But she knew that she would have to the one to coax the rest out of him. She turned around and with a straight, bored face, began to grill Brandon for details. Naomi couldn’t tell if the guy was spilling the beans because he really liked her, or because he was intimidated, or if he because he finally wanted to get everything off his chest.

As he had said, things had started off small at first, amanga changing here, an episode of show being slightly off there. Then everything began changing. Video games started coming to life behind the screen, and the characters started doing things outside of their programming. They even talked to the players, talking to them about a war that was coming. And then emails started coming, telling Brandon and his family that the senders wanted to come to their home. They spoke of ways that the family could bring them across. Some of the processes were nothing short of disgusting and terrible.

Conturbatio and the other agents shared meaningful looks at this knowledge. It reminded Naomi of the door…. They had never found out what exactly created that portal, and the case files had mysteriously vanished a few weeks back according to her mom. She had even heard rumors that the Q Files were banned from further investigating the case. She wondered how the agents were holding up. Was that perhaps really why the Sphinx was so keen on coming here to Utah and pursuing this oddball case? If so, he might have just hit a gold vein of a new lead.

Brandon continued to explain, at Naomi’s insistence, that the phenomena, or curse as the Jacksons had come to call it, was first only centered around the house. But then the night came that he went to the theaters to escape the insanity for a bit. But then the dinosaurs came to life and attacked people.

Naomi asked the Jackson, “And you didn’t think of moving earlier? Whatever this is, has clearly latched onto you!”

    “We live around Mormons,” Mrs. Jackson said, as though this explained everything.

    Everyone else gave her blank stares so her husband explained further, “We didn’t want to be the subject of gossip.”

    Agent Brown nodded her head, “I have heard of that. Not all Mormon are like they are in Utah. At least I have been told; a completely different culture.”

    “Sounds fascinating,” Trick yawned.

    “Hey Trick, we have that strange episode we telling you about,” Tiffany called to him.

    Trick made to get up, but Naomi grabbed his arm and shook her head frantically. She did not want Brandon to position himself next to her. It had been hard enough to have him and his stale breath in her face.

    “What is this episode,” Conturbatio asked curiously.

    “It’s an episode of Star Trek that daddy recorded and then got all messed up,” Tiffany explained.

    “I don’t think the agents want to see that,” Mr. Jackson said, clearly uneasy about the whole situation.

    “Nonsense. I think that this might be vital evidence to the investigation,” the Sphinx said pleasantly. “May we please see it?”

    Mr. jackson was sweating profusely, but he nodded his head. They went to the entertainment center and Tiffany popped the VHS into an old player connected with the Blue-Ray player. Soon, the family and agents were watching a bizarre episode with Captain Picard leading the Enterprise into battle against a very, very confusing enemy made of shadows. What made it all even weirder was that Stitch was at the helm of the Enterprise. A velociraptor in heavy armor loomed over Picard and talked about people and worlds Naomi had never heard of. The Enterprise itself looked as though reavers from Firefly had had their way with it, and now it sported massive cannons all over it, perfect for destroying multiple ships. All kinds of space stories were present and helping combat the shadows. It was intense, nonsensical, and very violent.

    “Could this be the war the messages are talking about,” Stacey asked her partners.

    “Based on limited evidence and leads, I think it is a safe assumption to make for the time being, but I would not make it my leading theory,” Conturbatio answered. “We need to know more. We need to know more about these doors, and especially how they might connect all of this. Everything I am seeing here are works of fiction. But what we encountered last time was way too real to be something out of a TV show for the late 80s.”

    “It could be that whatever is behind the doors, is trying to speak to us through our stories,” Trick’s mom suggested. “This might be their best way of communicating.”

    “That is another strong possibility,” the Sphinx admitted.

    “Wait just a moment,” Naomi suddenly said. “There the Tscheapwhetzar. That strange guy with red eyes and a hood cloak who was in a couple of the changed stories!”

    “The what now,” Stacey asked.

    “I’m not sure, but it is someone who has been referenced in multiple changed comics in Brandon’s room. What if he is what connects them all?”

    “I’ll have to have a look at these,” the Sphinx said. His curiosity sounded to Naomi as though it had been replaced with sudden clarity. She wondered why that was, but her thoughts were interrupted.

    “Hey Naomi,” Kyle said as he came into the room. “I was making the copies you wanted, but then a strange message came over the screen of my computer and the copies were halted. You guys might want to have a look at this.”

    “You were making copies? Good girl,” Conturbatio praised her.

    “Let me have a look at this,” Brandon said, puffing out his chest.

    Naomi was not pleased when he snatched her hand pulled her along. The rest of the household followed, and Naomi felt like she was being humiliated. Once in Kyle’s room, they saw there was a message with an intricate Z above it.

    “That looks like the Legend of Zelda,” Naomi said.

    “Oh, you do know it,” Brandon said, evidently pleased at her knowing something that ought to have been common knowledge. “Let’s check it out.”

    “Hey! Let go of me,” Naomi now fumed as he hauled her along.

“Hey pal, listen to her. She’s already uncomfortable as it is,” Trick protested.

“Butt out,” Brandon snarled.

“Son, your behavior so far as been very unacceptable,” his father warned.

“Well what do you expect?! He gets it from your side of the family you know,” Mrs. Jackson huffed.

“Brandon, I don’t think you should touch that keyboard,” Susan Brown said, suddenly looking very intense and alert. “I can’t explain it, but something feels off.”

“Oh this is nothing,” Brandon said, still holding onto Naomi as she struggled with his grip and he pressed a key.  

An odd sensation coursed through her body and the computer screen lit up brightly. The next second, she was pulled through the screen, along with Brandon.

Trick could only watch dumbstruck as his friend and the potato kid were pulled into a computer. While everyone else looked dumbstruck, he ran for the computer and screamed to no one in particular.

“I’m going to kill Brandon for this! Naomi? Naomi! If you can hear me, I’m going to get you out!”

#My writing #angsty teen #interrogation #x files #fan fictions #mysteries of the q files #tscheapwhetzar