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antihero-writings · 4 years

Text

The Empty Throne (Ch2)

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist (Brotherhood & Manga)

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

Character focus: Van Hohenheim

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

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

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

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

Chapter 2: Dying Angels

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could they not hear him snapping at the seams?

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

******

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

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

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

He couldn’t have misplaced it, could he?

As he advanced the nervousness took precedence over the excitement.

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

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

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

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

How was this possible?

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

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

Maybe they didn’t want him here after all.

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The four of them were joy incarnate.

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

So he tried to listen to them.

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

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

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

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

But he couldn’t find the cure sitting still.

******

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

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

Trisha couldn’t be dead.

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

Pinako grimaced, adjusting her glasses.

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

His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat.

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

Stay. But he left anyway.

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s nothing I could have done for them.

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

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

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

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ohmystarsy · 4 years

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all the tag games I’ve been tagged in in the last few months

as the title says - I’ve finally found some quiet time to do all of them, thank you all for tagging me!!! it is always a pleasure and I LOVE those tag games, just life has been really busy recently, even more so during that whole pandemic thing.

I put all of them under read more, bc there’s A LOT of text. the tag games include:

name ten favourite characters from ten different things, tagged by @majoris

name your seven comfort movies, tagged by @majoris and @natowe

quarantine Q&A, tagged by @ithilnarmo

20 questions about yourself, tagged by @jennyyfishh

I was tagged by @majoris for name ten favorite characters from ten different things (tv, movies, books, etc.), then tag ten people.

favourites are the worst! but I will try my best neverthless.

Eames from “Inception” (idk, he is flirty af but also has rly bad taste in clothes and I love that; it might be also Tom Hardy thing tho)

Thor from MCU (just. the kindest of Avengers? says women rights? struggles with what it means to be “worthy”? pls)

Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach from “The Witcher” (I just love evil blonds with redemptions arcs who suffer throughout the whole series bc they made some bad mistakes in the past; also yes I have always headcanoned him as blond, idk why)

Leia Organa from “Star Wars” (an Icon, what else should I add?)

James Flint from “Black Sails” (gay pirate disaster that we all deserved and it was given)

Clara Oswald from “Doctor Who” (idk I just always related to het the most from all companions that I’ve seen. I love her fearlessness, her bossy side and that she takes no bullshit from the Doctor)

Sansa Stark from “Game of Thrones” (I hate what the show did to her, but I always loved her in books; how she starts as this silly, annoying girl and then grows and grows and outgrows everyone else)

Phryne Fisher from “Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries” (I just love this show and this woman; I’ve never seen a characterisation as this one; at one side she is never serious and she often plays silly woman, but that is only a facade for the world??? and she never cares about what others think of her, I’d love to be like her when I grow up, if I wasn’t already a grown-up)

Roy Mustang from “Fullmetal Alchemist” (I mean. I’ve never knew a manga character could be so hot. Also he’s a snarky bastard, but that’s what we love about him don’t we.)

(Purple) Hawke from “Dragon Age” (idk I just like this sarcastic little shit)

I was tagged by @majoris and @natowe to name my seven comfort movies (and god it’s gonna be difficult bc I rarely watch movies but here we go)

Inception

King Arthur: A Legend of the Sword

Lord of The Rings: Two Towers

Brooklyn 99 (I know, not a movie, but this is actually what I usually watch for comfort - I think I’ve seen season one like 10 times at this point)

Thor Ragnarok

Mamma Mia!

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

(generally when I’m in need of comfort movie I just look for some action movie this is how I roll, fighting on the screen makes me calm *shrug emoji*)

I was tagged by @ithilnarmo for quarantine Q&A

1. Are you staying home from work/school? Yes, I am, although there was some battle with this (long story). Luckily the project I work on is on the final stage (it’s already being built), so it’s actually possible to do everything from home and also a team I’m on is super communicative and it all goes rather smoothly.

2. If you are staying home, who is there with you? I live with my sister, who is now finishing her Master’s Degree, so we are in this together! (There is also occasionally a dog on our neighbours’ balcony just next to us and it’s always a highlight of a day.)

3. Are you a homebody? Before this pandemic I thought I am, but now I think I just don’t like clubbing and partying lmao, bc I just ITCH to travel or just go outside and walk in the city and I CAN’T.

4. An event that you looked forward to that got cancelled? Well, not an event, but several of my plans for spring and holidays got cancelled. I was supposed to go the Baltic Sea and Gdańsk in spring (on seperate occassions) and then I and my friend had to cancel our holidays to Faroe Islands in May/June, because it will probably be still too early to travel.

5. What movie have you watched recently? I think it was “Escape from the ‘Liberty’ Cinema”, which is hella weird Polish movie from 1990, just after end of communism. It tells a story about a censor who starts to question his job bc suddenly the actors in the movie that is being shown in one of the cinemas rebel (inside a movie) and don’t want to play it anymore. Really weird. Really.

6. What shows are you watching? Brooklyn 99 for like tenth time.

7. What music are you listening to? Same as usual.

8. What are you reading? I’m reading “The Waves” by Virginia Woolf (my fav book ever), for a month now, bc 1) I don’t have much time now I just work all the time, 2) I read it in English and can only read like 10 pages at once. but it’s SO GOOD, guys. so good.

9. What are you doing for self care? lmao don’t have time for that. I try to take breaks from work, sometimes go outside or at least step outside to balcony (and stare at the neighbours’ dog), I cook dinner every two days and a NICE stuff, so at least food brings me joy, and I try to sleep regularly, although I do a poor job on that.

aaaaand I was tagged by @jennyyfishh for 20 questions about myself

1. Nickname: I actually don’t have any, it doesn’t work like that in Polish (Kasia is already what you’d call a nickname from my full name Katarzyna, but this is just how we call all Katarzynas) (sometimes I wonder what is the point of the full names if we never use it in speech lmao)

2. Zodiac Sign: Scorpio!

3. Height: around 170cm

4. Languages: Polish and English; I was kinda conversational in German some years ago but now forgot all of it, I’d probably understand some of Ukrainian and Russian if I really tried (was learning Russian for three years and Ukrainian is just similar enough to Polish) and learnt some Swedish too, but again, don’t remember anything rn

5. Nationality: Polish

6. Favourite season: spring

7. Favourite flower: daffodil and tulip

8. Favourite scent: verbena, petrichor, sea

9. Favourite color: yellow

10. Favourite animal: dog probably

11. Favourite fictional character: look at tag game number one on this long list : )

12. Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: coffee!

13. Average hours of sleep: 6-7, but my body wants 10

14. Dog or cat: both, actually; now I’d rather take cat than dog, but that’s only bc I live in small apartment and am out of it for too long

15. Number of blankets you sleep with: one??? second blanket is for really freezing winters only (like -10/-20 celcius degrees)

16. Dream tip: what does it mean even? idk man, sometimes if you wake up from rly good dream, if you think about it hard and fall asleep quickly you can still return to it

17. Blog established: probably somewhen in 2011? idk what is time anyway

18. Followers: 2051

19. Random fact: oh god idk, ok I will maybe say sth I’m rly proud of, which is that my short story was published in an anthology in year 2017. I still can’t believe my name is printed there.

(where is 20th question tho???)

ok, I am tagging for all of those above: @shirewalker @sorrydearie @natowe @cptnjaneway @iaskier @spectralarchers @majoris @jennyyfishh @ithilnarmo @ohhelga @marsza @stupidape just choose whichever of those above you’d like to do or just ignore it completely : )

#tag game #about me

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winryofresembool · 6 years

Text

Love Can Melt the Ice, ch. 12

Aka ice skating au ch. 12!

A/N: That’s right my peeps, this fic /finally/ has a name. I hope you find it fitting! (Obviously I’m not referring to literal ice this time, but instead a certain character who’s acting a bit cool sometimes :P) I don’t really have much else to say this time, enjoy and review! This chapter continues directly from the events of last chapter :)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5.5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Companion pieces (note: these are all post Olympics happenings so reading the main fic first is recommended): 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Next chapter: [x]

Words: 1940+

Genre: flooof in this chapter, even a tiny bit of humor? (I feel we are back to ch 1 in a way)

Warnings: swearing and some drinking on the background

“So, how’s everything going, brother? How’s your leg?” Al asked when he and Ed made their way into a quieter corner in the room. With the room full of Ed’s teammates and music playing loudly, it was hard to hear your own thoughts, but the brothers decided to at least try since they had a lot of catching up to do.

“I wish I could already get rid of the cast, but other than that, it’s fine. I just want to skate already.”

“I’m sorry, brother,” Al said with genuine sympathy. “Hey, I brought something to cheer you up.”

Al handed Ed a gift bag and he took it curiously. Inside it was a book that Ed recognized as one he had wanted for a long while, Advanced Biochemistry, but much to Ed’s surprise, it wasn’t the only gift. There was something between the book. Two small, thin foliage packages that must have had…

“Al!” Ed yelled with a red face. “How the fuck did you… why… what the hell is this supposed to mean?!”

“Thought you’d need some extra protection with the way your love life has been progressing…” Al chuckled. “I know you well enough to know that you’d never have the guts to get them by yourself.”

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you. We aren’t even dating!”

“It’s funny you say that when you both are practically undressing each other with your eyes every time you look at each other.” Al pointed out, nodding towards Winry significantly.

“I’m not… Fine, she’s hot,” Ed said through his teeth, “but surely I’m not the only the only one who’s noticed that! Just look at Havoc trying to tell her jokes…”

“She doesn’t look too impressed,” Al noted. “Oh, look at that, she’s coming here. Hi there, Winry!”

“Hi guys.” She turned to Ed and noted his mortified expression. “Why are you so red? You sure you don’t have a fever or something?”

Ed didn’t have time to answer when Roy started speaking into the mic and everyone turned their attention to him.

“So, as you all know, we have all gathered here to celebrate the 18th birthday of our very own Fullmetal Forward, Edward Elric. Congrats, kid! Now that you’re officially allowed to buy alcohol, don’t forget the promise you made me!”

“Hah, you haven’t won anything yet!” was Ed’s immediate response, and everyone burst out laughing.

“Anyway, I’d like to suggest we sing for the birthday boy. Everyone, on the count of three. One, two, three.”

Roy gave his sign, and the choir of more and less talented singers started: “Happy biiirthday too you, happy biiirthday too you…”

Ed felt a bit overwhelmed when a room full of people sang for him but waved his thanks when they finished. Soon Roy continued speaking to the crowd:

“Before we let Fullmetal give us, without a doubt, a very amazing speech, there are a couple of other people in this room as well we should congratulate. The little birds have told me that in less than a year this team will have a brand new member. Congrats, Maes and Gracia! Your kid will without a doubt become an amazing skater.”

Nearby, Maes started rambling about the greatness of his future wife to anyone who was willing to listen, but Winry barely noticed because she squealed happily at the news and rushed to hug Gracia who had been approaching the trio.

“A baby! That’s absolutely wonderful! I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Aw, thanks Winry-dear. I got the confirmation from my doctor about an hour after the free skate. I’m gonna have to discuss this with him and Maes, but with this piece of news, I think I might skip the individual competition.”

“But you would have done amazingly…” Winry said, upset for her friend.

“Maybe, but I’ve seen you skating and I dare to say you would beat me 9 times out of 10 these days. And I already won gold 4 years ago, so really, I’m not too upset. How could I be when I look at him?”

She turned to see her fiancé flailing as he told Riza, the only person patient enough to listen to him ramble for ages, how he would decorate the baby’s room and how he secretly (or not so secretly) wished the baby was a girl.

Ed hadn’t had a chance to say anything while the women were chattering, but now he decided it was his turn to get himself heard.

“Congrats, Gracia! I’m sure you’re gonna be a great mother, but I’m a bit worried about your fiancé. I bet he’s that person whose locker will be 100% covered with photos of the kid and he’ll forget how to skate when he keeps staring at them.”

“Don’t worry, I will make sure to kick his butt if he starts slacking because of it,” Gracia smirked.

“That’s good to hear. But seriously, I’m happy for you guys. Babies are amazing!”

“Thank you. I think someone’s gonna be one lucky lady to be a mother to your kids in the future, Edward.” Ed wondered if it was just him or did Gracia look at Winry one second longer than necessary when she said that. And did she emphasize the word someone? He felt himself getting flustered for the second time within minutes and he was about to turn away when Winry asked, pointing to the pack still in Ed’s hand:

“Did you get a present from Al? What did he give you?”

“J-just a biochem book…” he stuttered and left before she could ask more questions. Damn Al. He’d show him. Speaking of the devil, Ed noticed his little brother was snickering almost uncontrollably nearby after seeing the scene between Ed and Winry unfold.

“Are you trying to kill me?” the older brother growled and punched Al on the shoulder when he got close enough.

“Relax, bro, it was just a joke! I won’t change my mind about you two though, I have never seen you this flustered over a girl before. It’s adorable. I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier, so did you tell her?”

“Yeah, I did. I hate to admit it, but you were right. I do feel better now. And things… are going quite nicely.” He turned his head towards the spot where Winry chatted with her friends (Paninya and Rose had joined her and Gracia now) and Winry gave him a small smile.

“That’s great to hear,” Al interrupted Ed from his thoughts. “Hey, I heard Mustang saying something about a speech, so how about it?”

“Do I have a choice?” Ed sighed and wheeled to where the captain of his team was clearly waiting for him. Taking the mic from his hand, he started:

“It’s so weird to see so many of you here! To be honest, if it weren’t for a couple of friends, I wouldn’t even have remembered what day it is. And the worst part is that I’m not even allowed to drink because of my condition!”

Many of Ed’s teammates laughed. They knew Ed had never particularly cared about drinking.

“I’m not one for long speeches, so I guess thank you everyone for coming, and special thanks to that one gearhead who made this happen.” His gaze met Winry’s for a moment, and he thought he could see her blushing slightly. “Now, let’s have some fun! But not too fun…” His gaze stopped at Havoc this time. “… because some of you have a big game tomorrow!”

The guests chuckled and continued their partying. Mustang was now dancing with Riza, Havoc was having a drinking contest with Breda despite Ed’s warning, Armstrong was wiping his tears into a huge tissue, Paninya was trying to sneak a small bottle from Roy’s back pocket and Al was probably telling Winry some embarrassing stories about Ed. For some reason, all of that made Ed feel calmer than he had felt in a long while.

Later that evening, Winry was sitting alone on the balcony, enjoying the fresh, cool air when Ed appeared behind her.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Why are you sitting here alone?”

“I guess I just wanted a moment to hear my thoughts. No offense, but you hockey players are loud.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” Ed rubbed the back of his head. “But your friends are kinda interesting bunch as well. You should have seen Havoc’s expression when that Paninya chick made a show of kissing Rose right in front of him. It was almost as if his hopes and dreams had both been shattered into pieces and fulfilled at the same time.”

“Oh, that definitely sounds like a Pan thing to do,” Winry laughed. “They’re great though. After losing my parents they’ve become like a new family to me. I guess you could say the same about your team.”

“I guess…”

“You said you have tried to push people out of your life, but you know, one way or another, you have affected all of them,” she gestured towards the full room. “They all care about you. And for some weird reason, so do I. You don’t have to carry your weight alone.

“Yeah…”

“I guess what I really wanted to tell you after our chat earlier is that if you think you’re the only person in this world who’s feeling guilty about something, I have some news for you. For so many weeks, I kept thinking that things would be so different if I had simply told my parents to not go into that car. Finally, my granny wrenched some sense into me and told me that I can’t change my past, but I can chance how it affects my future. It didn’t sink into me right away, but I understand what she meant now. I’m not saying that I’m never thinking about it anymore, because that’s a lie, but I know my parents would want me to live my life, so that’s what I’m doing. And that’s what you should do as well.”

Ed stared at her with surprise. He realized Winry’s words were very similar to the ones he had used when confronting Rose, but he wasn’t living by his own advice.

“I probably deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.” Her tone got softer when she continued: “By the way, I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. We are way past that point now.”

For some reason, Winry’s statement made Ed remember the realities of their situation, and he asked: “How are we gonna stay in touch after the Olympics, though? We are both busy with our sports, traveling on different sides of the country and sometimes even out of country.” “Phones exist, Elric. If you know how to use one. And it’s not like I’m always gone, there are off-seasons, breaks, and so on… And to be honest, at the moment I can’t say how long I’m gonna continue my skating career. I’m kinda itching to move onto mechanics soon enough.

“Sounds like you have already given a lot of thought to your future.”

“What about you, though? Do you have any plans?”

“I want to continue playing as long as I can and study as much as I can. Maybe I have some other wishes as well, but… one day you might know.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

Ed leaned his head against hers and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder. They stayed like that for a good while, until the tender moment was interrupted by a crash inside the restaurant.

“What was that?” Winry asked worriedly.

Ed just sighed. “I think it’s time to take Havoc back to the hotel.”

#edwin #edward elric #winry rockbell #my fics #fullmetal alchemist #ice skating au #that has a name wooo!#i'm so stupid happy about that #ps. sorry for the possible typos

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fedine · 6 years

Note

Answer all of them

Under a cut! This is a long one!!

1: Do they drink coffee?

I don’t think so; though I do think he enjoys the occasional Starbucks drink.

2: Are they left or right handed?

Right handed!

3: How do they do their hair? Facial hair? (If they have it)

His hair is super long! I’ve seen some pictures of him where he has it tied back, but not too many more recently. It looks messy but it is really really cute! I want to brush it or just run my fingers through it a lot. He also does grow some of his facial hair out! I like it a lot.

4: What’s their favorite animal?

Well, going off his fursona, I’m going to go with a wolf.

5: What is their relationship status?

Taken by me!

6: What is their favorite band/singer?

A weird thing about our relationship is that we don’t really talk about or share music too much, but we know we have similar music tastes! I also know he likes Death Grips.

7: Are they more a cat or dog person?

Dog person!

8: What does their laugh sound like?

Ohh, gosh! I love his laugh so much! He also has several of them, ranging from: “This is a horrible picture and I’m showing it to you now,” “This is a horrible picture and I’m NOT going to show it to you,” and my personal favorite is his really really loud laugh he does when some meme he sees gets really weird/bad or we keep adding onto it ourselves.

9: Do they know multiple languages? Which ones?

He used to take French, so he knows a little bit, but he isn’t fluent.

10: How old are they? How old are you?

He is just a year younger than me. 13 months, to be exact!

11: One word that describes them.

I can’t possibly choose one word, but honestly my favorite one to describe him as is “warm” because I see it in his eyes in pictures he sends and when we video chat. He makes me feel like I’m at home with him, even if we’re so far apart.

12: Do they have any pets?

A German shepherd mix named Winston! I hear him a lot in the background of our calls.

13: What is their favorite TV show?

He really liked Bojack Horseman! He binged it around the time we got together. We also like watching shows together that we never finish… Though, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood was one we did finish, and we both loved it! He also really likes Dragonball Z, and Bleach!

14: What is their favorite movie?

Oh, that’s a hard one because he REALLY likes movies and film theory and stuff, but I’m pretty sure it’s a Marvel movie. He also told me one time that he likes Studio Ghibli movies a lot, but he talks about Marvel movies a lot more.

15: What car do they drive?

He does not drive.

16: What ethnicity and/or nationality are they?

He’s Australian!

17: Where did you meet them?

I met him online, after he joined my guild in World of Warcraft. I had been a member for a year already, and I believe I had just gotten back from an extended break from Horde side. He was very new to the game, and also very shy at first, but he joined up with us because he wanted to try role play, as well as raiding. He was at a large, server-wide event that I went to as well, but it took him a while to get into the Discord voice chat. He’s very shy! Once he got in though, we hit it off really well! Soon we had begun to spend nearly every waking moment together. Also, we haven’t stopped doing that. It’s been about a year since we started that.

18: What was your first meeting like?

Would you believe me if I said it was almost an argument? I’d been healing a long time, and he loved to tank, so we each thought our own roles were the most important in a raid/dungeon environment. “A tank keeps the mobs off the healer, so they aren’t overwhelmed;” “A tank won’t last long without a healer.” Well, now we know that both of the roles are much weaker on their own, and they are only really at their peak when they have the other with them. Still, that has not stopped him from saving the raid in huge manners as he’s the last tank alive and the boss is at 1% HP. Of course, I’ve saved the raid too, just in much more subtle manners!

19: What is their zodiac sign? Are your signs compatible?

I’m a Virgo and he’s a Libra. So, yes, I do believe that they are!

20: What month is their birthday?

October! That was already my favorite month of the year before I even met him!

21: What is your favorite outfit on them?

Whatever he’s most comfortable in!

22: Are they good texters?

He’s very good! He’s a quick typer, and messages me “Good morning!” if I don’t get to it first every day! He types with the correct capitalization, too, which I find very cute for some reason, but that may be just because it’s him.

23: Your favorite feature about their appearance.

Oh, hmmm… I love the way he looks, and it’s hard to choose just one thing. His eyes, maybe? I did already go over that, as well as his hair… You know what, I’m going to keep talking about his eyes. They’re two beautiful shades of blue, and every time he sends me a picture of him I can see how much he loves me in them, and sometimes I have to make an effort to not be overwhelmed by it. In a good way!

24: Your favorite thing about their personality.

He’s a big sweetheart, and a huge goofball! He knows how to make me laugh and feel better whenever I’m not in a good mood.

25: Do they make you laugh?

Every single day!

26: Do you make them laugh?

Yes, I do! We have very similar senses of humor. Sometimes it’s awful. I love it all the time, though!

27: Are they good huggers/ kissers?

Even though we’re long distance, yes. He is, and I know he is.

28: What is your favorite “flaw” that they have?

He’s a degenerate. It’s really funny though. I love how chaotic he is.

29: Are they nice to strangers?

He is VERY shy, but yes, he is! He’s extremely sweet and kind.

30: What is the funniest thing they have ever said?

Honestly, he’s just the funniest person ever and makes me crack up every single day. Sometimes he just randomly says whatever comes to his mind. Today I really liked his joke about that redesign for the new Incredibles movie. Something about weed. We’ve been making a lot of weed jokes today.

31: Saddest?

Also from today: he didn’t know what a buffalo was. He thought they were different from bison. I was eating buffalo jerky from 5 years ago and he thought it was a brand of jerky. He also thought they were extinct.

32: Weirdest?

Literally any vore joke he has ever made.

33: Cutest?

Gosh, just trying to pick one thing is so difficult... But when he tells me he loves me and how he can’t wait to see me? When he tells me about dreams he has with me in them? It makes my heart melt.

34: Ever dreamt about them? What happened in the dream?

Recently I posted about a dream I had about him and I just kissing each other. Nothing super exciting sounding, but gosh, I want to experience it so bad.

35: How tall are they? How tall are you?

I am... 5′4″... He is... 6′5″...

36: Do they have a booty?

I do not know. He has only sent me selfies of just his face or completely front facing. I can only assume. Doesn’t matter though!

37: What are their hobbies?

Video games. He really likes World of Warcraft (of course!), Fallout: New Vegas, Grand Theft Auto V, Elder Scrolls Online, Overwatch, Quake Champions, and Pokemon!

38: What are their talents?

He’s has amazing reflexes, honestly. He uses them for gaming, and because of it, he’s amazingly good at just about any game he plays.

39: What would your dream date be with them?

A physical one, where we are next to each other.

40: Does anyone know about your crush/love?

I make it a point to make sure everyone knows.

41: What do you guys have in common?

Pretty much everything, really. From sense of humor, taste in music, and favorite video games for the most part. We also share the same sexual orientation, and we have yet to disagree on politics.

42: Do they go to the gym?

No, but he exercises just about every day! If he doesn’t do a whole bunch of jumping jacks his legs start to get sore.

43: Do they go by their given name?

Yes and no. Since we’re in a World of Warcraft guild, we both go by screen names, so no one there calls him his real name but me. Same thing with just about everything online, though. Other than that though, he does.

44: What is their favorite color?

He really loves orange! Orange and white is one of his favorite color schemes. It makes me think of orange creamsicles!

45: How far apart do you live from them?

About 572 miles-- roughly an eight and a half hour drive.

46: What song reminds you of them?

Boats and Birds by Gregory and the Hawk

47: Do they listen to a lot of music?

I think so, but I think he listens to more random YouTube videos than anything.

48: What do they smell like?

He gave me his jacket for Valentine’s Day, and when I first got it I just held it up to my face and smelled it for a good while because it was the first time I got to experience what he smelled like. I can’t really describe his scent, because I’m not good with words in that way, but I just know that it’s my favorite scent in the whole world.

49: If they were in a book (protagonist or antagonist or supporting character, up to you) how would the writer describe them?

If it were up to me, I would describe him as accurately as possible. Still, I only really know his personality the best, so that’s what I would describe the most. I think he would be a protagonist, as well. He’s my protagonist, anyway.

50: How often do you see them?

We talk every day-- I’m talking to him right now! But as for actually seeing him, I look at every picture he has sent me of himself every night. There’s about... 22 of them that I have, including a video, but there’s one I missed of him in Australia in a “had to do it to em” pose. I’m still sad I lost that one.

51: The last text/ message they sent you?

It was a Sorlag skin from Quake Champions. As for a text message from Discord, it was a “Call me!”

52: The last thing they said to you in person?

53: What is the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you in front of them?

I once said “Heal, boy!” to him while we were leveling in WoW together because his health was low and he wasn’t paying attention, but it came off as “Heel, boy!” like he was a dog... The more embarrassing bit though about it was that one or two of our friends were there as well.

54: Do they have any tattoos or piercings?

To my knowledge, no, but I seriously doubt it.

55: What color are their eyes?

Blue gray!

56: What is their clothing style?

Comfortable: jeans and graphic T-shirts! That I plan to steal...

57: What is one thing that makes them really special?

Literally everything about him. He’s the most special person to me, and I love him for every single thing.

58: Will you tell your crush your feelings?

Alright, gonna be honest, I'm a bi wlw, and I was content to never say a damn thing about any feeling I ever felt, so I’m thankful every day that he did, because I was very ready to take my feelings to the grave and pine after him forever.

59: How long did you know them before you started falling for them?

Probably like a day or something. It didn’t take long to start liking him-- even when we were alone in the server voice chats that day I felt comfortable around him.

60: Was there a defining moment when you knew you liked them?

Sort of! I don’t remember the exact details, but I do remember messaging one of my best friends about it immediately. I was pretty vague about it to her. Something like: “Yeah, I think I’m in love with someone in the voice chat...” And she knew immediately who. I guess I was obvious, though.

#gem-licker #bf tag #surprise! he made me answer everything anyway!

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min-sugakookies · 7 years

Text

Tag Game

Tag Game tagged by: @rayrayswimusic Thank you, I love doing these!!! Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people. LAST… Drink: Good ole Coke! Phone call: I hate talking on the phone, so I can't really remember who the last person I talked over the phone with was. Text message: Last person I talked to was @n3rdlif343va this fandom made us best friends. I'm blessed to have her to talk to. Song you listened to: Halo by Starset. Time you cried: today. Got really frustrated and stressed out. HAVE YOU… Dated someone twice: Never dated... 😑 Kissed someone and regretted it: I repeat... Never dated... 😑😑 Been cheated on: Nope, but I did get stood up by a friend... Bitch is out of my life now. Lost someone special: No... But I dread the day I do.... 😞 Been depressed: Yes, to the point I feel like I'm actually suffering from it... Gotten drunk and thrown up: Only 20, so nope. Made new friends: Yes!!! This fandom has brought me so much happiness! Fallen out of love: And I repeat again. Never dated... 😒 Laughed until you cried: Every fucking day lol... I cry so easily when I laugh... I watch a funny video I need tissues cause as I laugh, the tears come to... I'm so weird! Found out someone was talking about you: No, I don't think so... Hmm.... Met someone who changed you: Nope... Found out who your friends are: Yes... Kissed someone from your Facebook list: Umm... My Facebook friends consist of my family... So absolutely no! Kissed a stranger: nope!!! Eww... Drank hard liquor: nah uh!!! Can't drink yet, and may be allergic to half the liquor out there. Lost glasses/contact lenses: I don't wear glasses or contacts.... But I have lost my sunglasses before. Turned someone down: I think I might have a long time ago when I went to see Chevelle in concert... But idk if he was even hitting on me. My socially awkwardness came and said Abort Abort... And I Aborted. Sex on the first date: Fuck no! Broken someone’s heart: repeating.... Never dated...😔 Had your heart broken: if we're talking like dating type heartbroken... Then nah. Been arrested: hahahahaha!!! I don't get out if the house enough lol. Cried when someone died: I honestly can't remember... Fallen for a friend: Maybe.... Kissed on the first date: Goddammit... No... Never freaking dated... GENERAL List 3 favorite colors: Grey, Green, and hmm... maybe black. How many Facebook friends do you know in real life: Since they are mostly my family, all of them. I don't have a lot friends. Was homeschooled 😛 Do you have any pets: Yes!!! Two poodles one miniture the other a toy. Natasha and Nitro!! Do you want to change your name: Hell yes... I'd love something more different. What time did you wake up: Hehe... I never went to sleep last night. As I write this it's 6:55 pm... I've been up all night and day... Fucking insomnia. What were you watching at midnight last night: Let me see... Um... I think maybe one of the gamers I love to watch. It was probably either Ohmwrecker or Seananners. Name something you can’t wait for: I'm getting a new phone soon, I definitely can't wait for that or a new laptop so I can get back to my fic. When was the last time you saw your mom: Shes right beside me so just now... What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: That I didn't have this fucking skin condition, that I could go back and actually go to school instead of being homeschooled (cause Im allergic to like so many things it's not even funny), be in dance. Just a ton of things.... I especially wish my mom didn't get cancer in December. I wish I could change that.... Fortunately she's getting better but it still weighs on the mind. What are you listening to right now: Stay This Way by From Ashes To New. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Honestly I could have, I was around a lot of adults growing up. So possibly... Something that is getting on your nerves right now: every little loud noise at the moment, the reason I'm listening to music... I hate loud bangs and I feel like snapping at every bark from a dog or door slamming. Most visited website: Ao3, YouTube, and Tumblr. Mark/s: I'm probably just being stupid, but idk what this means??? Childhood dream: Man, probably a dancer or something to do with music.... I love music so much!!! Do you have a crush on someone: yeah, but there all fictional 😒😒😒 ugh. What do you like about yourself: My green hair, that needs to be done!! Piercings: ears, double holes on both. Blood type: *snort* idk.... Nickname: Fullmetal. Relationship status: I'm a single beotch!!! Zodiac: Scorpio. Pronouns: She/Her. Favorite TV show: Scorpion. Tattoos: Got none!! Right or left hand: I'm a right!!! 😊 Surgery: Nope, never even had a broken bone. Hair dyed in different color: Yep, got a green ombre going!!! Sport: Sports... I'm to lazy for sports... I did theater!!! Vacation: Nope, non coming up. Pair of trainers: ???? 😮😮😮 What.... Current and all-time best friend name: sorry, can't say her name cause I don't want to let out something private like that, but it's @n3rdlif343va Eye color: Hazel. Favorite movie: Will always be How To Train You're Dragon 1 and 2... I just love it so much!!! WHICH IS BETTER? Hugs or kisses: Hugs, but I'd rather be left alone... Lips or eyes: The Eyes, cause there the key to the soul !! Shorter or taller: Taller, cause this Motherducker here is short. Nice arms or stomach: Idk... I guess I like nice arms.. Sensitive or loud: A lil of both... More on the sensitive side. Hook up or relationship: relationship!! Troublemaker or hesitant: I'm a weeny... So hesitant. DO YOU BELIEVE IN… Yourself: Ehh... Kinda... Miracles: Sorry, but no... I'm not religious and never will be. Love at first sight: Again... I'm single... So nope lol Santa Claus: Nope... I'm a very cynical person when it comes to holidays and stuff like santa... __________________________________________ Okay!!! I'm tagging: @n3rdlif343va @daysinrussiavictuuri @maydei @thesundaymorningpost @lucycamui @lamenart @lovelytitania @actualyuuri @akemi-hy @viktrnikifrov @viktuurificwriters @victuurificthings @nikiforoov @fyeahyurionice @paxohana @justmeandmysillystuff @rhapeseuhans @sylvadorgrey @aina-p @extranikiforov

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whenthemarshmallowmettheslayer · 6 years

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Favorite fics you ever written?

Warning this a long post because I've written a lot of fics.

For Harry Potter:

1.) The Definition of Good. Summary: After Chamber of Secrets Harry gives Dobby a place to stay. Everything changes.

2.) Keep it simple, keep it safe. That's all you can do when it's too late. Summary: Harry smiled; it didn't reach his mom's eyes. "There's no need to call me sir professor," Harry quipped once again. This Harry knew. This Harry could take and dare he say it? Liked. Or rather, he liked it compared to the alternative despite his hatred towards the greasy haired wizard before him.

(Harry can't help but remember the chocolate cake slices and hours of looking at photos of Mrs.Figg's cats, the warm - to the point he feels as though they may burn him - embraces from Mrs. Weasley, Dumbledore's soft spoken promises and words that might as well be empty, of Sirius' offer of Harry living with him just gone in a blink of eye because he fell into a veil Harry's godfather could not come out of.)

For Percy Jackson:

1.) I scream too loud when I speak my mind. Summary: Percy Jackson does not accidentally vaporize his pre-algebra teacher and everything else that happens afterward. (I've actually loved writing all the parts of the series but I'm only including this one.)

For Death Note:

1.) To be a Queen. Summary: It's that the queens (Misa, only Misa, because Misa the idiot sees what no one else sees. L says he doesn't swing that way but L wants Light, Kira, but Light is Kira therefore the other king. So duh he can't be L's queen no matter what that pevert wants.) in chess are the most powerful pieces despite the kings (Ryuzaki and Light) being the most important. Because without the king (Kira and L) there's no game, if you defeat the other king you win; Kira wins and he will.

2.) Game over. Summary: Instead of replying to baby Kira Matt takes the cigarette out of his mouth and with a smile (it's weird to smile because Matt never really smiles and it's probably a real ugly ass sight to see) throws his last cigarette onto the Death Note.

Game Over, he thinks and just walks off without so much a word. He wonders briefly what's next. With Light it's easy (boring even). He'd follow his dear dad's footsteps and become a police officer. Probably the best and maybe he'll meet L. Those two assholes deserved each other, Matt decided, but what about him?

(Or the universe gives Matt a restart after dying and he sadly uses his last cigarette on the Death Note.)

For Tokyo Ghoul:

1.) There's a ghost in my lungs. Summary: A series of non-linear conversations where Haise learns about his past, how he became who he was, and people that Kaneki loved. (Haise time travels to the beginning of Tokyo Ghoul. I've only posted one chapter so far.)

For Jessica Jones/Alias:

1.) Rest in pieces our youth (so we might glue it back together again). Crossover with Spiderman Homecoming. Summary: Jessica Campbell and Peter Parker are least likely of friends ever since Jessica came back to school.

For Fullmetal Alchemist:

1.) I've got questions. Summary: Edward smiled thinly, something viscous but not ugly (never ugly, not when it came to her) was the look in his feral eyes.

"Rose," gently, Ed thought, like she was Al or Winry when they were doing stupid shit, "that was a list that represented the complete chemical makeup of a human body for the average adult. It had been calculated to the last microgram, but still there has never been one reported case of successfully creating a human life."

Some people put their faith in gods to be able to live their life; some, like him, lived their life to achieve a goal. There had once been a time when Ed use to pray with mom. He had even prayed after mom had died but had stopped a long time ago.

It wasn't the constant frustration of loose ends (till now, Edward thought, Cornello's ring on his mind). No, he had stop praying even before that. It wasn't even the bastard's sharp jabs that were constant; always there as though Edward would ever let himself forget. What an idiot; how'd that man ever become a Colonel? Besides obviously burning children and women to death that corpses he climbed on to get to the top of the military.

2.) (What is) insanity but the ability to draw the perfect circle? Summary: There's a creak in a board behind him and he whirls around, hands ready to clap. It's Scar. Again there is a difference. Well differences technically. That makes his hand hover, pausing him from clapping. Scar, wearing glasses while inside on a rainy day, stares at the sight before him.

He should take a picture. It'll last longer.

"Are you Edward Elric the Fullmetal State Alchemist?"

Maybe it's because someone has actually him if he's Edward that he answers honestly. "No."

Or Edward is okay with suggesting to partner up with Scar to kill his Fuhrer (who might not be a homunculus in this universe) but isn't okay with Nina going in the rain and getting a cold.

For Star Wars:

1.) Love of a daughter. Summary: "and yet, so far at least we have yet to figure out what you gain from this." It's a question as well as statement. A chance to explain, to come clean on why she - a unknown Sith- had assassinated they're precious, beloved Chancellor (what fools). But how could you come clean when there is so much blood on her hands? Never-mind the sins and blood on Vader and Luke's when her family had been alive.

When she answers it's not because she's announcing her transgressions in hope that her heavy, dirty soul might be saved. One couldn't repent when they didn't feel guilt in their sin.

"For the love of a daughter." Leia pauses and looks back at Anakin and thinks: I did this to avenge you. After thinking that Leia says one more thing - the last thing actually because she nothing else to say after this.

"And you should have been more careful electing your Chancellor. You never know who is Sith." This has double meaning but she's the only person who knows it.

And she's fine with that (no, she isn't).

Leia wonders if her younger self and Luke will ever become the monsters like her Luke had been and the monster she is.

2.) When dreams come true (which they often do when Anakin Skywalker dreams them). Summary:It happens in the day, in the light. A dark masked man with heavy breath that was killing the slave owners and freeing the slaves. No one - not even the Hutts, who were now dead- could stop the droid looking man.

That doesn’t surprise Anakin though. Anakin had seen the stranger’s blade that coated the sands with different colors of blood. A red lightsaber. The man was a Jedi and he had come to free them.

(Or young Anakin's dream comes true just not in the way he dreamt it.)

3.) Nobody does it like Artoo. Summary: Because the droid had just killed Chancellor Palpatine. The man who was the closest thing Anakin had to father.

“Artoo please tell why you just killed Chancellor Palpatine?” He asks, in soft calm voice. He needs to keep a level head. Needs to be the Jedi many claim he cannot be. Deep breathe in. Deep breathe out. He could be calm when all he wanted to do was try to find the person who responsible for rewiring Artoo and show him/or her why it was a bad idea to touch his droid and make his droid kill a person he loved.

Artoo beeps his answer and Ana-

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN PAlPATINE IS DARTH SIDIOUS AND THAT YOU’RE FROM THE FUTURE!?”

4.) Of time travel and relationship blocking. Summary: But he knows the universe is better off by Artoo's travel in time. Palpatine is dead. Artoo had killed the Sith Master that had destroyed too much of his humans’ lives. There was no Empire and Darth Vader did not exist. The twins were raised by their creators. All was good except Leia was coming to age of no longer a child yet not an adult.

Which meant other human boys were becoming attracted to future Senator. Human boys who were not Han Solo. It was becoming rather frustrating - to the point Artoo felt like rolling into a wall- but at least Anakin agreed that these human boys did not belong with his creation. (Sequel to the fic above. Never did write more chapters for this fic but I do adore it.)

For Star Trek:

1.) I appreciate your enthusiasm, but Kodos will not be in this production. Summary: This was not how Jim imagined telling Bones about Tarsus IV. Actually that was a lie. Jim had planned to never tell Bones about Tarsus IV. But so is the life of Jim Kirk (also known as James T. Kirk, JT, Captain, and t'hy'la to Spock and Ambassador Spock who both had yet to tell him what that word meant. A childish part of Jim thinks that Hoshi would tell him if she was still alive before his mood darkens. The memories - the guilt - of that day flashes before his eyes and God does Jim hate drugs.).

2.) Logically speaking. Summary: "Say mother had been," there had been a pause as Spock tried to find the right words to convey his question, "say mother went through unnecessary strife during her adolescent years and somehow you ended up in the past. Do you allow for her to face this to persevere an already faulted timeline or do you save her?"

By then, Amanda had made her way to her husband side so she could look into Spock's eyes. The question was odd and admittedly out there but her son's eyes said otherwise. Spock's eyes could be compared to an open book and that book told Amanda that this somehow was serious and her son was torn.

(Or the backstory on how Spock sort-of got permission from his father to steal a ship from the Vulcan Science Academy through Amanda Grayson's eyes.)

3.) I prefer to have my nightmares with open eyes. Crossover with Black Butler. Summary: Jimmy, JT, James Tiberius Kirk (whoever the hell he truly is) knows what it's like to adapt just to stay alive, to be whoever he needed to be just to survive. Just to eat.

It makes him laugh and JT doesn't know this but he reminds the demon (Sebastian he once was called and will take the name, the mask, of once again) of another young boy who the world had destroyed. Who had laugh a bitter laugh because that was all he could do. Crying, after all, did nothing. (Maybe one day I will write that Shinigami!Jim fic. If I ever do I will gift it to ShortyKatezey.)

4.) I need you, I need you, I need you right now. Don't leave me alone. Summary: It doesn’t matter in the end that this universe’s blue eyed James T. Kirk isn’t Spock Prime’s Jim. He still feels Jim-so familiar to his Captain, his Admiral, his Jim, his thyla yet so differnet, so angry, so broken - death.

It should have been me (it had been him in his universe) is Spock’s first thought after he momentarily gets over the wave, the crash of emotions he feels. His next thought is: I am not fine. (This is Spock Prime reacting to Jim's death in Into Darkness.)

5.) Of bored school boys and a death god. Crossover with Death Note. Summary: Ryuk drops the Death Note and a bored but brilliant beyond his years teenage boy picks it up. Sound familiar? Except it's not. JT is many things but a God complex isn't one of them.

For The Vampire Diaries:

1.) When did you dance with death? Summary: When did they all die? When did this become their lives? Was Damon to blame? Stefan to be blamed? Was Katherine to blame? Or Klaus to blame? Were Klaus' parents to blame for trying to keep their kids alive and eventually making them into monsters? Whose to blame for the fact they're all murders instead of simply, normal teenager?

And you know what? They're going to be dead for sure instead of just their morality and innocence having kicked the bucket. There's no vampire blood in their system that could cure them from what Klaus will inflict; Katherine ran from Klaus for hundreads of years and her family was slaughtered just because she wanted to live. They had killed Kol - Klaus' own brother - and trapped him with the burnt corpse.

2.) Revenge is best served with condoms. Summary: "I know who you are. You're the tasty little thing my older brother has come to truly fancy." Tasty little thing. Caroline froze; those words replaying in her head except in British accent (the only accent she truly had thing for).

For Yuri on Ice:

1.) The downside of love. Summary: Soulmates that share the bruises on their other's skin can have a downside if you haven't met them yet. Katsuki Yuuri learns this the hard way.

#Asks #anon #ao3

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bluebookbadger-blog · 7 years

Text

The Price of a Life - Chapter 9

Title: The Price of a Life Fandom (s): Fullmetal Alchemist/Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood Summary: I always thought waking up in another world would be a lot more…interesting. At least slightly exciting and terrifying, but it really wasn’t. It was more of a sudden and underwhelming event, that landed me in the company of fiction and its ignorance to modern physics. I thought it was a dream. Boy was I wrong. Characters: SI/OC, Maes Hughes, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, etc. Rating: PG-13

A/N: I will be referring to Envy, regardless of his form, as a male, simply to avoid confusion.

After kicking Hughes out and reminding myself to ask him about the knife he had given me when I got the chance, things went on as they had been before his interruption. I spent about four whole hours talking to Albert and helping him with the ciphers I made.

They were pretty easy and he got through the first set of equations pretty quickly and discovered the first line of the letter I had prepared was 'Fourscore and seven years ago...'. I admit it was pretty humorous that he didn't recognize the line, though the Gettysburg Address probably didn't exist in this world. I didn't think I would never forgive Mr. Starks for making us memorize and recite the speech.

Around noon I decided to head over to the Store and see if Miss. Reich had any work for me to do. However, upon arrival, I only found Albert, alone and manning the cash register.

"Good afternoon," I said with a sigh as I threw my bag into the back room, "Where's Miss. Reich?"

"Out sick, you think she'd be more careful after the last time," Albert responded as he handed me a spare apron to put on.

"The last time?" I asked quizzically, tying the apron around my waist. I had to look presentable for the customers, even if the store was completely empty at the moment and I worked in the back.

"Yeah, the illness a few years ago. She wasn't her best for a while, still isn't, I guess," Albert said, wiping down the counter. I furrowed my brow. Did he mean the sickness that killed Tricia Elric?

"That was a while ago, and here I thought you were the new guy here," I said as I rearranged the newspapers so that they were in order from newest to oldest. One of the most recent articles said that it was believed that the serial killer, 'Scar', was dead.

"I am, Miss. Reich is my aunt, I've been living with her since as long as I can remember though," He said, looking everywhere but at my wide eyes that were forced to look away from the back of his head. I wanted to say something...consoling? But it came out more like this:

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry," I managed to stutter before slipping into the back room and clutching my nearby broom tightly. I felt embarrassed, especially since I had no idea how to respond to such a statement. Albert had said it so casually, but why did it make me so nervous and anxious? I chocked it up to pure exhaustion.

I worked in the backroom until after dark, leaving just before Albert came in to tell me he was closing the Store. Gracia was so relieved to see me well, reminding me that she hadn't seen me since I asked to leave the night before. I explained the fiasco and that I simply wanted to get in a few hours of work before coming home.

"Miss. Reich is sick," I mentioned, trying to gauge Gracia's reaction. The way she had referenced Miss. Reich made it seem as if the two were, or had been, friends at some point. Alas, she gave no note of recognition.

"Oh, that's too bad. Maybe we can get her some flowers at the store tomorrow?" She said, keeping her voice low as she took the chilled soup out of the ice box and placed it before me. It was well past Elicia's bed time, and Gracia was already wearing a pair of night clothes.

"Why are we going to the store tomorrow again?" I asked in between spoonfuls of cold soup. It may have not been too tasty cold if I wasn't starving from a day devoid of much food. I made a note to restart a regular eating schedule, as some of the clothes Gracia had bought me were starting to get too big. The woman's face lit up like a string of brand new Christmas lights.

"Elicia's party is Sunday night, remember? I just need to pick up some last minute stuff while she's at her friend's house for a play date. You don't have to come if you don't want to-"

"No way! I wouldn't miss it for the world," I said, though the enthusiasm was partially forced. I needed to do something besides moping around the house or the hospital all day, and it would give me an opportunity to buy another notebook.

The next morning we headed to the shopping center after walking Elicia to the park to meet with a friend of her's. He was a little older than her, and he shared his mother's bright green eyes. I kept an eye out for Johann, in case he was still in town. I didn't see him anywhere, but we managed to get everything on our rather short list: flowers, streamers, some rosemary and garlic, and one beautiful leather bound notebook for me.

That night I opened it up to write in it, and in my desperation for a writing utensil in my room, I used the one Lucha - or rather, Truth, - had used to communicate with me. I felt a pang of sadness at the memory, the scribbles now sewed shut with Alphonse.

After sitting in the dim room for a moment and feeling something crushingly depressing in my chest, I finally began to continue my journal, copying down what I remembered about 'Ire' and all of the episodes ahead of me. I realized that there were actually three days, not two that Ed technically spent in the hospital from my perception of the flow of time.

I recalled that Winry only arrived after he had spent two days in the hospital, then she spent the night with the Hughes family at Elicia's party. It actually excited me to meet her. I knew a lot of people didn't particularly think she was that awesome of a character in the series, but I always thought she was pretty cool. I mean, I can barely put a pen back together after taking it apart, and she could make those automail miracles from scratch. I wanted to ask her how they figured out how to connect the nerves, it could have been useful when and if I returned to my world.

Despite my excitement in writing down my future plans, my exhaustion from the past sleepless 24 hours forced me to stop and enjoy the empty void of sleep while it lasted.

I got up early that morning to help Gracia and Elicia get ready for the party that night. Even though Gracia and I were up before dawn, it seemed Hughes had left even earlier than us. Did the guy ever sleep? Later we hung streamers, set up other decorations and started to make the cake when I accidentally decided to show Gracia how much cooking and baking hated me.

Upon putting the finished cake batter in the oven, just was we had time to sit down for the first time all morning, smoke began to fill the apartment as if on cue. I, not really thinking properly, opened the stove and took the pan of blackened cake batter out with my bare hands. After a brief moment of panic, I turned on the ice cold faucet and stood there pouting until Gracia had opened all of the windows and fanned out most of the smoke.

"Let me see," She said after distracting Elicia with the task of arranging the party hats the table, which was unsurprisingly difficult for such a small girl. I sheepishly held out my stinging hands, causing Gracia to click her tongue at me. "These are bad, maybe I should take you to the hospital,"

I pulled back my hand and observed the damage. It wasn't that bad considering a stunt like that would probably have given anyone else third degree burns. But, as I was coming to realize, the laws of my world didn't apply to me here. My hands were bright pink, probably a first degree burn at most, and the pain had all but disappeared.

"Weirdness," I mumbled as Elicia shrieked with excitement as she stood on top of the dinning table, drawing Gracia's attention away from my singed hands.

"Elicia, you know better!" The mother chided, taking the girl down from her perch.

"I could go by myself, you have a lot of work to get done still," I said, looking at the pile of ash that may have once been cake batter. "I could drop Elicia off at her friend's house, his name was Mike, correct? You wanted to drop her off earlier, remember? So I could just bring her over on my way to the hospital," Gracia shot me a look of gratitude.

"Thank you," She mouthed as she looked down to her daughter, "Elicia, would you like to go on play date with Mike for a little bit? Then you can come home and we'll have your party," The shining glee in the little girl's eyes said it all.

Mike's house, or rather, Mr. and Mrs. Weber's apartment, was in a complex across the street from the hospital. Which was convenient for them, as Mike always seemed to have broken something. This time a cast resided on his hand and wrist, suggesting he had tried and failed to do a handstand like the ones Elicia had been showing off to Gracia and I whenever we were home with her.

I opened my mouth to apologize to Mrs. Weber, but she gave a smile and a wink of her sharp brown eyes before nodding.

"I figured Gracia would send her over eventually, the poor woman has too many things on her mind," She whispered as Mike and Elicia giggled at nothing, as young children often do. I gave a grin of relief. One less thing to worry about.

"Could you bring her over for the party?" I asked, glancing down, my hands hidden in the pockets of the overcoat I was wearing, "I probably won't be back until late,"

"Mike," Mrs. Weber called sternly as her son attempted to show Elicia a new game he had learned, in which the floor could not be touched and the children had to jump across the pieces of furniture. That was the most relatable moment I ever had with a child from another dimension of space and time. "Yes, it's fine. I was going to bring Mike over anyway, it really isn't any trouble at all."

Nodding my head, I whispered a quick thank you and began to walk down the stairs to the lobby. They were carpeted in an ugly green fabric, reminding me of the stairs in my own home. The banister to my left, the white wallpaper to right, just like the staircase that led from the front hallway of my house to the upstairs. As I approached the bottom, I half expected to find Jimmy lying in the perfect spot to be tripped over.

Jimmy had been the family dog, a part Chow Chow part Labrador part Doberman Pinscher all American mut brought up from Louisiana after a tropical storm left the shelters down there flooded with abandoned and sick dogs. Jimmy had been on death row for his size, nine years old with two dislocated knee-caps, early cataracts, and beginning to go deaf.

But, I was eight years old, had three younger, impressionable siblings at the time, and wanted a dog. After driving an hour to the shelter he had been transferred to, we took him out of the kennel, and immediately knew he was the relaxed, mild tempered dog we wanted.

And he was that dog until he turn fourteen, and died of old age despite the numerous fatty tumors, lack of appetite, and dementia he had developed in his later years. It was heartbreaking for little twelve year old me, who had come to know the dog as the chicken herding, huggable, pet that had been with me for the entirety of my conscious life.

It was then my parents decided to buy my oldest younger brother and I ferrets, resulting in Lucha, Nippers, and Tonka the white and brindled fuzzy slinkies that filled that hole in our lives, though they were awful chicken herders.

I stopped the train of thought as I headed into the cold twilight air, aware of the tears beginning to well in my eyes. The night was warm despite the cool breeze, the hum of insects in the early autumn and the sounds of the bustling city seeping through the buildings to this quiet corner of Central almost led me believe all of this was normal. The government was normal, the town was normal, normal things happened - good and bad - to normal people.

The stillness of that moment passed, and I was on the other side of the street opening the door to the reception area of the hospital. I gingerly opened the hospital door, wincing at the pain as the blisters pressed against the cold metal of the handle. Okay, so maybe it was little more than a first degree burn.

"Good evening," I said to the lady at the reception desk, the same older woman from the other day. She glanced up through thick lenses, "I burned my hand cooking, is there anything you can do for that here?" I asked, feeling that it sounded too formal, but at the same time didn't want to scream 'Fix this! I has a boo-boo!' at the old woman. She called over a nurse who gave a nod at the sight of my blistered hands.

"Yes, just follow Miss. Becker please," I did as I was told, following the nurse to a small room with curtains on either side of a bench. It clearly wasn't the wing that held long term patients.

"Name?" She inquired, writing some notes down on a clipboard. The nurse had curly strawberry blonde hair that framed her pale, freckled face as if she was some actor who just walked out of the makeup booth. In short - she was really pretty.

"Irish, just Irish," The nurse - Miss. Becker - squinted at me suspiciously. I took my Certificate of Honorary Citizenship from my bag with pained, shaking hands.

The woman barely glanced at it before taking it and attaching it to the clipboard and setting it on the tabled near the bench. She then caught a nurse walking by and asked for some supplies as I zoned out, wondering why all of the nurses weren't married. I was aware that most of them were young girls, and working full time took away from courtship or whatever ridiculous practice they had here as a precursor to a marriage.

My wondering was broken by a sting as my hands were placed in lukewarm water, mild soap causing any broken blisters to sting even more than they already did. After drying my hands with a clean gauze, Miss. Becker began to bandage them, first lathering the worst of the burns - my fingers and the tip of my thumb - with what I could only assume was some kind of antibiotic ointment before loosely wrapping a bandage around first my palm then each individual finger.

After this painfully tedious process was completed, she advised me to continue moving my hands as I would if they were not burned, to prevent the skin from healing too tightly.

"Thank you, ma'am," I said as I was dismissed, she murmured a quiet word of welcome before stalking down the hallway back to the reception desk. Left to my own devices, I took my Certificate from the clipboard and decided to find Reggie's room and see if he had gotten any progress on the Gettysburg Address. It wasn't nearly that difficult, the familiar staircase from hell soon looming in front of me. Trekking up it only took a few minutes, but after what felt like hours I finally arrived at his door.

"Reggie," I sighed, plopping myself down in the nearest chair, "You won't believe the luck I've been having..." It was near the end of this statement I realized a confused old man with a feeding tube and an oxygen tank was in the bed, not an amputee soldier. "S-Sorry," I stuttered before exiting and quickly discovering I had gone into the door on the wrong side of the hallway.

"Reggie, you won't believe the luck I've been having..."

We talked for a while, smoothing out the details of his trip to Rush Valley and what I'd be up to if I wasn't going with him. The sinking realization that it depended on the outcome of the my choices in the next 24 hours quieted me so much that Reginald changed the subject without my input and showed me that he had decoded the second line of the cipher, 'our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation'.

I fell asleep at some point, but was pleasantly surprised when I woke up to find not much time had passed according the wall clock, and that Reggie had fallen asleep as well. Soon, a nurse came and told me to leave, as Reggie needed his bandages changed. Recalling that this was olden times back in the horrible ole' 1910s, I decided not to protest and instead see if I could find Ed's room. I asked the nurse, a Miss. Messenger, if she knew where he was, but she wholly ignored my question and simply shooed me out of the room.

After sometime of searching the empty halls of the floor, I discovered a more friendly looking nurse who told me to check with the receptionist. I first headed gaily to the hallway, before realizing that going to the secretary meant confronting my greatest enemy in this world: stairs. I muffled a groan of annoyance but limped down the steps slowly. The boots I wore were starting to seem too tight and chaff at my ankles.

After some time trudging through the maze, I found the front office of the ER and spotted the secretary. Her glasses precariously perched atop her dainty nose as she sat behind the counter, shuffling paperwork.

"Good morning, I was just wondering if I could visit Edward Elric? He checked in not too long ago," Her grey eyes narrowed at me suspiciously before she brightened suddenly, as if a light bulb went off over her head. To my disappointment, it didn't seem that such a thing actually happened in this realistic universe.

"You're that strange girl from yesterday, yes? 2nd Lieutenant Ross told me that if you wanted to see him he'd be in the room just down the hall. 45 B." Strange girl? That was a new one.

"Thank you, ma'am." I rushed as I stepped quickly down the hall. I wasn't necessarily in a hurry to see the Elrics - well, I wasn't in a hurry to be in the same room as Alphonse and his brother after what I had told him. Nevertheless, I made a beeline for the end of the hall, keeping an eye out for the Babysitting Duo.

"Where is he? Has Fuhrer Bradley been through here?" Two soldiers called just a head of me, notifying me of the time of the episode. I followed them until a streamer of blonde hair caught my eye. Turning around, I changed direction to follow the girl.

She was about my height, though possibly slightly taller in her heeled boots. Her hair was quite blonde, a vibrant and shiny gold that even in a pony tail nearly reached her waist. A clean white tang top hugged her frame, and a short blue skirt rustled above her knees. My anxious pace soon caught up to her own, and we walked side by side for a few awkward steps.

"You going to see Ed?" I finally asked, breaking the silence. Winry Rockbell glanced at me, almost in apprehension, or possibly wariness. Her eyes wear a very bright blue, but in this world, they were not unrealistically so. They looked me up and down, from my bag to my reused outfit to my untamed pale locks that were beginning to curl in the afternoon humidity.

"Yes, are you a friend of his?" She asked invitingly, though I could hear a hint of suspicion in her voice. I shrugged, noticing that Denny and Maria had yet to come into our sight.

"I met the Elric brothers a few times, they seem like some good kids. I was here for another friend of mine and figured I'd stop by and see what those two had gotten themselves into again." I said, noting she wasn't carrying around any tools or automail repair parts. It seemed strange considering she was Winry Rockbell. "I'm Irish by the way, just Irish." She gave a small, restrained smirk.

"Nice to meet you 'just Irish'." I rolled my eyes, but gave a small chuckle nonetheless. Dad jokes were the best jokes. "I'm sorry, I never properly introduced myself, I'm Winry, Winry Rockbell. I'm just here to give Ed some tickets he asked for." I nodded, seeing Denny and Maria ahead of us as they guarded a room with two doors instead of the standard one.

I noticed Winry's earrings made from what appeared to be pieces of scrap metal, washers, and other various automail parts. So cool.

"I wouldn't go in there right now," Denny advised as I went to open the door for Winry. "The Fuhrer's in there," I shrugged and flew the doors open with abandon.

"Edward, your knight in automail armor is here to rescue you from your uselessness!" I announced dramatically at the four men staring out the window. Winry followed close behind, unfazed.

"Hey Ed..." She then noticed the gathering that had formed near the window. "What the... What's going on? Did I miss something?" Ed looked as if he had seen a ghost.

"Not really, just a tornado passing by." He stated simply, staring at the blonde girl blankly. Unsure how to respond to the sarcasm, Winry awkwardly closed the door behind her.

"Well, I don't think there's anything I can do about that. But I did go and buy those train tickets you asked for," She said, producing the tickets from thin air, or at least it seemed that way to me as her pleated skirt offered no visible pockets. Maybe that was just the physics of this world. Ed seemed to get some color back to his face and returned to normal, his shiny gold eyes blinking with recognition.

"Thanks, just in time," It then occurred to me that Winry had been here before, Ed's arm free of its sling. That meant that Hughes was going to be murdered tonight, so long as I didn't intervene.

"You okay Mac?" Hughes asked, distracting me from my internal conflict. It was nice not to think about death for the past day or so, but now I had a choice to make, an important choice. I realized he was talking about my hands, not my look of sheer and utter terror that had followed my thoughts.

"I'm bad at cooking," I said, holding up the bandaged hands. "I tried to help with the cake...it ended badly for both the cake and I," Hughes shook his head and clapped my shoulder.

"It's okay," He leaned down to whisper, "Believe it or not, when I first married Gracia I'd almost rather eat army rations," My eyes widened.

"No way,"

"Yes way, but, she practiced and look at her now! I wouldn't trade a four course meal from a master chef for that grub." He turned to Winry, having a wider attention than I did, "Where are you headed off to this time?" Winry held up the ticket, allowing Hughes to read it, "What's in Dublith?" Ed smiled, possibly one of the first times I personally had seen him smile in my memory.

"Well, with the way things have gone lately, Al and I decided we should go back and visit our old teacher," Alphonse was shaking at the mention, his armor rattling quietly in fear. To be honest, I'd probably be just as scared of the woman if I didn't admire her so much.

If my life was going as planned, I'd be screaming, 'I'm a housewife!' at anyone who bothered me. But, if it wasn't made obvious by the anime characters, my life was derailed and flipped into a river full of bull sharks and the train of my life was on fire.

"I think I'm too scared brother," The armored spirit said, holding his hands up, "There's no way she's not going to kill us," The brothers joined hands as if in a nervous plea to the God they didn't believe in, it was quite a comical sight.

"L-look, don't you chicken out on me now," Ed responded, shivering in fear, "I'm scared too, okay?" Winry slumped, though no comical sweat dropped appeared on the back of her head.

"What exactly does this person teach?" She asked in concern, though her voice conveyed a sense of jest. Armstrong placed his hand on his chin, glaring at the floor from my point of view.

"It appears you have a rather lengthy journey ahead of you," He noted, Winry turning her serious attention back to the brothers.

"How far is Dublith?" She asked, breaking the boys free from their impending nervous breakdown.

They actually seemed to be genuinely terrified of Izumi, which made my admiration for the teacher falter in doubt of her actual ability to teach - especially since the Elrics were so scared of her. Not to mention they did the one thing they should have never done, especially with her as their mentor.

"Well, let's see," Alphonse said, his childish voice echoing without any eeriness or solemnity for once as he unfurled a map he had hidden somewhere in his armor. Upsides to being a soul in an empty suit of armor: your body is a storage compartment and you never had to worry about pockets. "There it is," He said pointing to the dot on the map of railway lines, "All the way down here," Winry observed the map for a moment and I tensely held my hands over my ears as she gave a screech of delight.

"Wha..What is it?" Ed asked, as if he was afraid to hear what caused the outburst. The blonde girl excitedly pointed to one of the dots with its unreadable name beside it, not that I needed to know what she was so worked up about.

"That! Right there! Right before Dublith!" She stepped away from the map, gazing into space with wide, starry eyes, "It's the Holy Land of automail engineering! It's Rush Valley!" I smiled at her theatrics, when a thought hit me.

"What's the Holy Land here?" I said aloud, though I hadn't meant to and, thankfully, it seemed no one had noticed with Winry's enthusiasm.

"We have to go, we have to go, we have to go, you have to take me!" She exclaimed repeatedly, waving her arms like a child who had seen the ice cream truck and wanted their parents to buy them some sugary cavity makers. Ed was not amused.

"Yeah, whatever, I don't have to take you anywhere-" He was cut short - quite literally as Winry was taller than him - as the blonde girl glared over him.

"Well somebody has to pay for my travel fare," Ed only glared up at her.

"Then why does it have to be me?" He growled, Alphonse stepping in as the peacekeeper he was.

"Come on brother, what's the big deal? It's on our way," Ed crossed his arms and turned away from Winry, admitting defeat.

"Only if you want to Al," This sent Winry into another fit of happiness, as expected.

"Yay!" She squealed, spinning in circles with her arms in the air. Winry was surprisingly easy to please in person. She stopped her spinning and opened the door. "I've got to call and tell grandma," And with that she left the room, the five of us staring after her with a sense of bewilderment and relief. Hughes put a hand on Ed's shoulder.

"She'll make you a fine wife someday," Ed bristled with annoyance.

"Don't start that again," Hughes merely chuckled in response, putting a hand on his head.

"I would rather talk about my wife anyway," Something dreadful then occurred to me, something I hadn't realized until today. The clerk lady said I was the 'strange girl from yesterday'? And since Ed's arm was healed and this was most certainly Episode 10, how had I missed Episode 9 completely?

"Wait, is Elicia's party tonight?" I asked Hughes in my sudden panic, aware of how strange I seemed. He looked at me with nervous eyes.

"No, it was last night Irish, you were there, remember?" No. I didn't remember, I didn't even leave the hospital from what I remembered. I looked around me in fear for the first time in days. How had I forgotten an entire day?

"Sorry, I...I guess I was just a little tired," Armstrong shot me a concerned glance, as we began to leave the room. "I'm fine," No. No I was not.

Instead of seeing off the Elrics and Winry, or heading home to hear Hughes say that one last goodbye to Elicia, I choose to find the library (a branch of the military library meant for public use) and see if there were any books about memory loss. Most of what I found reflected on injury, dementia, or family history but none of those applied to me.

I hadn't hurt my head, unless this really was all a dream which I wasn't ready to reconsider with the events that were going to occur that night. And dementia, considering my past medical records and age, was very unlikely. I had a family history of sleep disorders - Truth knew Matt sleep walked, Mary sleep spoke, and Brian sleep ate of all things! I, on the other hand, had never had a problem with the sleep walking that my siblings were plagued with, it wouldn't explain my complete lapse of memory.

And if I had been asleep, somebody would have noticed.

I laid down on the table I had spread my research over and moaned in surrender. This world couldn't give me a break. Anxious not to fall asleep, I looked out the window of the library to notice the sun starting to set.

Seeing that I hadn't boarded the train with those headed to Dublith, my fate was sealed along with the fate of the chimeras and Greed. Leaving the books as they were, I headed out of the building and walked quickly through the crowds to find the Central Park. The lights began to glow, signaling Hughes' time would end soon.

My heart thumping like car piston, I quickly flashed my all access Certificate of Fanciness to Adele who barely had time to acknowledge me as I sped past on my way to the archive room. Having memorized the path from my notes, I found myself in the comforting confines of the room, the scent of the books and ink calming me as my breathing deepened.

I found the table with the map of Amestris spread out on it and I slipped into the bookshelf just two rows behind it. Far enough away to not be noticed, close enough to grab Hughes before he could leave and get him to safety.

I slumped to the ground and pulled my knees to my chest, listening to the blood pumping through my ears. To say what I was about to do was nerve racking, terrifying, or even crazy was an understatement. It was downright delusional. I wasn't some super powered girl with different colored eyes and natural neon blue hair, I had no extensive training in how to stop a person from killing another, I had little knowledge of how to talk my way out of a difficult situations.

I wasn't a cop or a hero or even a fictional Mary-Sue. I was just a scared girl trying to do the impossible, trying to change a man's fate that was literally written in black and white, ink and paper in books and printed in vibrant colors and animated for an entire planet to see. I couldn't do this.

I knew I was crying loudly, tears creating spots on the floor and my face red with embarrassment. I was so stupid for thinking I was capable of this, I could barely stand to see an animal I wasn't hunting for food die, let alone stop a death or a human being when one was about to occur. My breathing hitched in my throat, and stopped.

In my panic I finally realized I wasn't breathing despite my lungs' attempts to draw some breath back into me. The world began to blur, as did my worries and thoughts. None of it mattered if I died anyway.

But I wasn't dead. The world was black, and I couldn't feel my body. It was as if I had fallen asleep, except the void of darkness was not nearly as empty as I had thought. It wasn't cold, but it wasn't overly warm either, it was just right, like being under a warm blanket during a cold winter. I was no longer curled up against the book shelf but lying down, as if atop small pillars that shifted up and down and left and right. It was almost as if I was floating.

I wanted to open my eyes, but something urged me not to, like the primordial instinct to avert ones eyes from the sun. I, being an arrogant as I was to nature's advice, ignored that advice and opened my eyes. The blackness around me was writing, like a thousand insects. And of course, with that thought in mind, I screamed.

The black hands of the Gate dropped me to the ground of the white void and slithered back to their refuge of the slightly ajar Gate. I sat up slowly, still unnerved by the whole thing. Honestly, who wouldn't be slightly perturbed by waking to being swarmed by those creeps?

I took a deep breath through my nose, the air here clean and fresh. My back was to one Gate, and in front of the other there was a small, white lump, only discernible from the surroundings by the shadows it cast. I looked around for Truth, the entity not present at the moment it seemed.

"Truth!" I called, my voice echoing in the void. "Truth?" I looked back to the object in front of the Gate opposite to me. It stirred, taking the form of a snow white ferret that sat hunched over facing me. Its eyes were like those of the Gate, a pale violet with black rings around a small pupil. The figure sat there, unmoving. "Truth?" I tried again, as it seemed to move when I was calling for the entity.

I looked around again before turning to the ferret, only to discover it was gone.

"You have cheated me, human," An angry hiss of voices seethed from behind me, causing me to turn around and shuffled backwards in surprise. "How are you going to pay for the damages?"

Truth seemed absolutely pissed about something as it stood there, arms crossed and its characteristic smile now a frown filled with sharp teeth. Well, wasn't that just welcoming?

"Huh?" I responded, not really thinking due to the absolute blind panic that had overcome me. What did I do wrong? Was it because I told Alphonse what I knew, or was it because Lucha died?

"The creature you provided as my host was not as strong as it appeared, if you wish to return to your plane of existence intact, you will have to provide another host. Which, judging by your appearance, you have none," The Truth hissed, somehow right in my face. Wasn't it freaky how the Truth caught up to me?

But in all seriousness, I had no idea what it was referring to. I was aware it had possessed Lucha, but what made Truth believe Lucha was in the least bit 'strong'? If it was watching anything down there, it would be pretty clear that Lucha was an accident prone fluff ball that had a habit of doing unintelligent things.

"W-Wait! You never told me anything about this, isn't that unfair?" I stuttered as I scrambled to my feet and made some distance between myself and the humanoid. I didn't understand why it was so angry - it never intervened in the series, so why seek out a host like water in a desert?

The Truth folded its arms sat down cross legged in front of the Gate I had come from. It impatiently tapped its fingers against its porcelain arm.

"It was an unspoken agreement, you should have realized taking your pigmentation from you was a small price to pay, and that other payment had been given." It stated, irritated by my apparent ignorance. "It should have been clear that a host to accompany you was expected," I sighed, ironically happy I wasn't in the archive room panicking, at least for the time being.

"Well, it wasn't," I huffed, crossing my own arms to mirror Truth.

"You still have to pay, your ignorance to a law cannot excuse you of the crime," The Truth growled, seeming to have calmed down a bit despite its clear annoyance with my behavior.

I thought for a moment, considering what it could take from me that wouldn't cause me to bleed out before I reached the hospital. Then a thought struck me, an oddly relevant thought to my concerns about my missing memory.

"Why can't I be a host? Or is having a soul a problem?" I asked, recalling what the Truth told me about its limits to possessing a creature with a soul. A god with limits, now what kind of god was that? The Truth's shoulder's sagged, as if in defeat. It was a curious action for a being that claimed to be so powerful.

"A soul is not a problem. Any sentient creature has a unique amount of energy that one may consider a 'soul'. It is merely energy, and as such the energy cannot be destroyed or created, simply moved. In order to possess a human such as yourself, it would only be a matter of moving your energy and replacing it with my own - granted it does not destroy your body." Truth explained to my surprise. If it was telling me this, what would it require in return? It continued, unfazed by my look of wariness.

"To move your soul to and from the Gates is complicated, as time flows differently here. This was not a problem with the host you provided earlier, as it only had a small amount pf energy to traverse the Gate, and therefore I was only required to compensate that insignificant amount of energy with a small portion of my own. Because of your body's mass and your soul's friction with the ether, it would be too costly for me to expend my own energy..." The Truth trailed off, noticing my glazed over eyes. It was its own fault for turning this into a philosophical physics lesson.

"Perhaps you would rather simply make your payment and return to your realm,"

"No, no, I get what you're talking about," I said, jolted from my daze at the mention of payment. There was no way I was going to let this thing con me. I began pacing in clockwise circles between the two giant stone doors, allowing me to pull from my obscure and limited knowledge about physics. "So, say this version of earth is moving slower relative to the ether than my version of earth, as that would explain the time difference. Like the time traveling twins from that lecture," I was referencing the college lecture my Uncle Thomas had lent me. They made falling asleep on long car rides much easier than it would normally be.

"And the Gate, where we are now, is not moving relative to the ether. Now, if my soul - energy, whatever you call it, is still moving relative to the ether at the speed of my earth, that means I am dragging the ether of time on the other earth with me. Meaning there's a point in time when the speed of the ether I'm dragging and the friction that it creates with the time of the other earth puts me at a standstill relative to the ether in a perspective of time and space.

"This would explain why things don't physically effect me at all sometimes and other times take twice as long to have an impact. So if you can figure out the time when I'm not moving relative to the ether - much like how it is here at the Gate - then the energy you'd normally expend to catch up with time on this earth would be unnecessary, considering no time is passing for either me or you and we're both timeless relative to the ether," The Truth's chuckle distracted me, stopping my rant. I was no physics major, so it made sense if what I was saying had little to no relevance here.

"You are clever, for a human," Truth finally said, its smile back to its normal, creepy self. "I have been recording the times when your time stops for some time now actually, since it creates quite a disturbance here in the Gate. I just didn't know how to take advantage of it until recently-"

"You possessed me at the hospital and took me to Elicia's party?" I asked in shock. Sure, it would explain a lot and made sense considering my deduction about time and space here, but it was still unnerving to think an entity like Truth had control over my being for hours.

"Yes, actually, I did," Its many voices said happily, as if boastful of the accomplishment. "But it was only temporary, and I needed to confer with you the exact mechanisms of the exchange." I narrowed my eyes at the shadowy creature from where I stood at the other Gate.

"So, you are the one who cheated me and you just paid for it with that information. Then why go to the trouble to yell at me and see if I'd make a physical exchange with you instead of a theoretical one?" I asked, thinking there might be a catch to the exchange of information.

"Oh, I just wanted to see if you would accept." The Truth said with a childish giggle before its tone turned deathly serious. "I have no way of knowing what you know unless you tell me yourself, as you are clearly not part of this universe's closed system. And you would discover the information eventually, though gradually, over the course of your time here. If you had not given yourself the time here to explain these concepts to me, I would have no reason to explain your new role as my host in this world."

Screw it all. Why did I even bother asking when I knew the Truth would be an enigmatic asshole? It probably had its reasons - Truth was a 'god' after all.

"So, what is my new role? What was my role before this?" I asked, aware that I might have been asking for more than was possible for the Truth to tell me. Had it really not considered the ether and its role in time when thinking about possessing me? So many questions, not enough limbs.

"Prior to this, you were an outlier. I admit you were an abnormality I was not prepared to place in the world, so I allowed you to do as you wished and interact with the other beings as you wished. I had hoped you would avoid further contact with the Elrics, but I am incapable of revoking your freewill - a pesky perk to being from another universe I suspect - and as such you revealed some knowledge to those around you. When the younger Elric-"

"Alphonse, his name is Alphonse." I interjected, and was ignored by the Truth who merely continued its explanation.

"I was not watching the younger Elric brother when he discovered your written knowledge, and I was unable to call him to the Gate to pass over - it is unfortunate that the seal is so strong - and he gained some insight to the future. I know not how your universe is so knowledgeable about this universe at this point in time, but it made it necessary for me to-"

"We have anime," I said flatly, hoping to explain, "There's a theory that there is a universe for every possibility and choice, meaning worlds of fiction - your universe in mine for example - are real."

"Is that so?" The Truth asked, like a mother after her daughter told her that a unicorn ate her homework, "Well, it is no longer important, as you are here not there. As I was saying, I felt it necessary for me to intervene. Your actions, and the actions of those you have influenced, will have serious repercussions. Using you as a new host will give me an opportunity to correct the timeline the best I can."

"I know," I sighed, thinking back to my mission I had been so scared of completing back in the archive room,

"But this is a new story, a story different than how it's supposed to be. It's different because I'm here, and whether Alphonse or Colonel Mustang or even Father found out what I know, my existence created a whole new branch of events and possible events to your universe's time line, and you can try to change it back, but it won't work. You can't stop me from trying to help and stop some carnage and death, I do have free will and I'm choosing to try to save people instead of sitting back and watching them die."

I felt strangely confident about that statement, as if I might have been brave enough to confront Hughes and save him, to change the story and deal with the consequences. If I died doing it, another me on a different timeline wouldn't, and she'd do different things and save different people.

But somewhere in another universe, if I couldn't save people in this one, there would be a version of me that did save people, and a version of me that didn't. It was my choice to be the one that tried to help this universe, not the time line that stopped with me being a passive observer.

I smiled defiantly at Truth, but my new found purpose faltered. Truth was smiling wider, if that was even possible.

"My dear, I think I have already stopped you," I sucked in a breath of air out of fright when the hands of the Gate behind me pulled me into the blackness, the last thing I saw being Truth's triumphant smile.

I released the breath with a gasp as I woke to a start on the archive room floor. My heart was beating so wildly it hurt, and my vision spun as I tried to hurry to my feet in an effort to reestablish reality. The air of the archive room seemed different. Fresher, sharper.

Truth had said it might have stopped me from saving someone, and from the looks of the archive room, Truth was right. Blood was sprinkled over the carpet and papers littered the floor, notable to the right of the table and the right of the open door. The room was dark, but the light from the hallway illuminated the empty table. The map was gone.

My heart was beating so fast that it once more began to ache, but more than the fear, another emotion overwhelmed me. Rage. I was so close, and Truth thought it could take this one thing away from me? I had lived every second of every day here orchestrating the perfect plan to execute, and Truth had made me miss the deadline?

Not. To-fucking-day. The Promised Day could come and I could die or be murdered, but none of that mattered if I didn't accomplish my sole, self-stated purpose in this universe. To at least save the life of Maes Hughes.

I rushed into the blinding light of the hallway and took a right, ignoring the bloodstains on the wall. There was a gasp of surprise from behind me, forcing me to turn and see who it was. It was a woman, tall and lithe, with long, curling, ebony locks that shrouded a blood stained face. Crimson lips turned into a smile as my charge of anger broke and I froze like a deer in the headlights. Lust.

"I'm surprised I didn't notice you sweetheart, sorry for neglecting you!" She said sweetly at first, growing to a shriek of annoyance as she threw her arm toward me.

The spears were terrifying, contorting her fingers into sharp weapons of destruct longer than I was tall, and heading straight for me. My daze was broken seeing the bloody points. She had stabbed Hughes, and he was going to die if I didn't get to him in time.

I ducked around a corner, almost fast enough to get out without a scrape. But the spears went through the very corner of the wall, burying their tip into my right side and upper thigh and scratching against my hip and pelvis bones. I cried out in pain and nearly collapsed. Now I could say I knew what having a knife dug into your joint felt like.

It hurt more than anything, and the wound didn't burn as if I had spilled acid on a cut or feel as if were ablaze, it just hurt so badly I wanted to get sick.

The spear that I could only assume was her thumb had gone straight through me, creating a hole from the flesh above my pelvic bones to the back. The next one had only grazed the skin, creating a gash of red through the riding pants I had worn for the third day in a row. The next two spears had nestled themselves into my hip, separating the joint only slightly, but still enough to make the simple task of limping away hell. The last one, her pinky finger I assumed, had stabbed itself into my thigh muscle but hadn't gone through the other side.

Though all of the wounds were bleeding heavily, I wasn't losing blood fast enough for any major arteries or veins to have been punctured. As the spears withdrew and the corner of the wall broke into pieces of cement and dry wall, I was faced with a decision. Stay and most likely die at the hands of a deranged, blood lusting homunculus, or try to run away no matter how excruciating the pain was.

And somehow, I was started walking, practically sprinting away. Muscle memory led me straight to the reception desk, where I was sure Lust wouldn't follow. I was limping badly, and it was difficult to discern my blood from the trail of fresh red that had led to the reception desk.

Adele sat at her chair by an old radio or telegram machine of sorts. She looked the same as always, he curly blonde hair pinned out of her face with a blue hair clip, and her pristine royal blue uniform neatly arranged. There was a book at the table, but Adele was not looking at it. Her blue eyes focused worriedly on the door. My breathing had gotten heavy from blood loss and a failing adrenaline rush, catching her attention.

"Oh, my God! I-Irish, are you...?" I went straight for the first telephone booth, noting that the blood on the phone handle was still warm. "Irish, please, wait-!" I needed to get to the park. Now.

Ignoring her weak protests, I picked up my slowing pace. I knew exactly where to go - I had planned this out, and yet I never expected I'd be the one to let this get this far. The anger from the archive room caught up with me again. I was not going to die. I was not going to let Hughes die.

The phone booth was soon in sight, with a fake 2nd Lieutenant Ross pointing a gun at the man inside. I wasn't too late. My leg was soaked with my own blood, and my breathing felt hollow as my legs moved faster. The Lieutenant - Envy, began to crackle with red sparks as he turned into Gracia.

For a moment something told me to stop running, but that anger pushed me forward. I just needed to stop the gun. There was a flash as Hughes turned around with his push dagger in hand, and I was finally within ear reach.

"You look surprised," Envy's voice chuckled, my heart racing as I came up on him. I was only a few meters away.

"What...What the hell are you?" Hughes asked, my breath hitching as I took one last stride forward.

A gun shot rang out. I was on top of Envy just before that dreadful sound reached my ears, and I took the advice of Coach Lawless one more time. When in doubt, tackle. I ignored Hughes and the gun as my rage and pain were directed at the object in front of me - Envy disguised as Gracia.

I didn't remember the impact or when exactly the gun went off after I hit Envy, all I recalled was the look of utter shock on his face when my body slammed into his, bringing both of us to the ground. My nails dug into his arms, and I forced him down with my left knee, my right too slippery with blood to pin him down.

My breathing was deep and my vision blurred, but my resolve to keep the person beneath me away from Hughes overwhelmed my exhaustion and pain. Purple eyes blinked in surprise before glaring at me, despite the smirk upon the disguise's lips.

"Well, well, what do we have here? A little girl trying to play-" It was very satisfying to feel my fist slam into his face. It was even more satisfying to do it again and again until I heard bones break and felt blood gush down his face. It felt so good to hurt someone. I hated how good it felt, but it was an undeniable relief to bring pain to the person I was hurting. William Golding got it right after all.

"Don't. Fuck. With. My. Plan." I growled as I finally lowered my hand to my side, still using my left to hold his shoulder down. The nails had broken his flesh, and I could feel blood making my hold on him slippery.

My breathing had calmed and the stillness of the moment reminded me how much my wounds now stung as salty sweat from the run mixed with the blood from the wounds. Envy's face as Gracia was still, the eyes staring up at the cloud ridden sky. The lamp post lit up the blood like a river of gold and ruby that ran along his cheekbones and dripped to the cobblestone ground. The gun had fallen in the grass beneath the bushes, out of sight from any passing by soldiers.

I gasped suddenly and looked to the phone booth, a sigh of relief leaving my body at the sight of a shaken and mortified Hughes standing in the copper light of the lamp.

There was a gash along his head, but not deep enough to cause any serious damage. Blood had soaked down his neck, and his shoulder had been pierced through by one of Lust's spears. One of the panes of glass behind him was broken, most likely from the bullet that was supposed to be in his heart at the moment. He was unresponsive to my attempt for eye contact, and he was shaking with shock, but he was alive.

I had accomplished my goal. All of the rage and adrenaline that had gotten me here vanished, and I felt limp kneeling over Envy. My reverie of peace ended suddenly, Envy sitting up and forcing me against the door of the phone booth. I whimpered in pain as my head hit the corner and my world spun, but I quickly regained my wits.

"Who do you think you are human?" He hissed, furious with me. Envy shed his disguise, the red sparks dancing over the bloodied face and faux blonde hair to replace it with clean, perfect pale skin and long black hair. He might not have looked like a palm tree, but I was still going to insult him anyway.

His hands gripped my shoulders, and at his height towered over me. I barely had time to realize that Mustang had picked up the other end of the phone call. I brought my knee up, as if to hit his groin, but brought my leg back down and slammed the heel of my shoe onto his foot. Truth needed to remind me to thank Gracia for her choice of pump heels as I heard the crack of bones.

In that split second of Envy's distraction as he quickly healed the internal damage, I noticed the regular patrol of soldiers coming up this path. I grabbed the booth's door, pushed the disoriented Envy into the booth, and slammed the glass paneled door behind us.

"Why you-"

"Shut up, palm tree, and at least wait for the other soldiers to pass before murdering me," I snarled back at him, feeling faint despite my confident tone. Hopefully I would black out and Truth could intimidate the homunculus for me.

"Wha-" I held a finger to my lips as boot heels clicked by, the soldiers not even hesitating at what I knew to be a trail of Hughes' and my blood. Soon the duo passed, and I needed a plan. My entire scheme of catching Hughes before shit went down was out the window, so I guessed the time old honored tradition of 'winging it' was in favor at this point. "Who are you?" Envy said with a huff, as if offended I stopped him from murdering the one person I swore to keep alive.

I could hear Mustang's worried voice on the phone that now dangled near the floor. I crouched and picked it up, putting the receiver back in place and cancelling the call.

"This may take some time to explain," I said, noting the small space the three of us were confined to. A phone booth from the 1910s was not meant for three. Envy looked at Hughes, most likely contemplating how quickly he could kill the both of us and how much paperwork it would be for Wrath. "If you kill me," I swallowed and looked at Hughes. He was still in a daze, probably from blood loss, but he seemed to be coming out of it, which would be a problem. "I can promise you the Elric sacrifice will die, and your Promised Day will never come,"

Envy's eyes turned their attention on me, like daggers in the dim light.

"How do you know about the sacrifices?" He asked, sounding genuinely curious and absolutely pissed at the same time. I forced down a smile, realizing I had a small advantage over the homunculus - I had information he wanted.

"Truth be told, it was the Truth." To any other alchemist, that would've made little sense as a response, but to Envy, he seemed to vaguely understand. "And I know more, if you'd like to know. I know about Father, the other homunculus, including dear old Fuhrer Wrath and little devil child Pride, the Promised Day, the sacrifices, the philosopher stones, the staged bloodshed, I even know what you really look like under that pretty little disguise you're wearing, hell crocodile," Hughes seemed utterly confused and terrified at the same time, realizing I was saying all of the secret I had been keeping from him. "I even know that Greed is hiding out in Dublith, and Bradley - pardon me, Wrath - will be dragging him back here very soon,"

Envy looked honestly surprised, but the look quickly morphed to one of irritation.

"So? I wasn't supposed to kill you," I rolled my eyes and looked at Hughes. I was so tired, I just wanted to go home and go to sleep.

"No, but if you kill Hughes, I'm going to kill the little Elric twerp myself, and may I remind you that if you do decide to kill me, I have others with a complete record of my knowledge at the ready to execute him." I said, thankful my voice held steady. The pain in my leg was beginning to fade, but I pressed my hand against the wound. The pain kept me from blacking out.

"You're bluffing," Envy snapped at me, taking a step toward me in the cramped space. I looked up at him, my pale pink irises holding steady with his own violet ones.

"Try me," I said with a smirk, "And if I'm not, you will be the one Father blame's for the loss of a sacrifice." Hughes opened his mouth to speak but I shot him a glare. "You want to die tonight or not, family guy?" He shut up and held a hand against his bleeding shoulder to hinder the flow of blood.

"But I can't just let Mr. Hughes walk, now can I?" Envy retorted, folding his arms. "Just what do you suggest I do?" I thought for a moment, hoping not to appear hesitant as I said the first thing that came to mind.

"I'll make sure he's dead, you make sure he gets on a train to Aerugo ASAP," I said, noting Envy's confusion. Whether the acronym confused him or the plan, I would never know. "So long as you get him out of the country and keep him out of the country, I will convince the public that he was murdered and the body was taken and presumably dumped in the river. Then he'll be out of your way, and I'll be satisfied with the compromise." Envy narrowed his eyes at me.

"What if you kill the little shrimp anyways?" I shrugged and met his glare.

"Then you can kill him," Hughes inhaled sharply, realizing he was merely a bargaining chip in a greater scheme. "Listen, so long as Mustang at least is convinced that Lieutenant Colonel - or rather, postmortem Brigadier General Maes Hughes is dead, I can assure you I will not farther intervene with your plans, and the Promised Day can commence as planned."

Envy still didn't seem convinced I wouldn't go back on my word. I really should have worried about him going back on his - murdering Hughes somewhere else or dropping him off in another part of the country. But that thought didn't occur to me in my blood deprived state of exhaustion. I could only notice that he was hesitant to strike a deal with a pathetic, worthless human.

"You have my word, I swear on the bullet you put in that little Ishvalan girl's skull I will not harm Edward Elric unless you cause farther harm to Maes Hughes. Capisce?" He was taken aback, not expecting me to know that irregular detail about the past. That, or he was hung up on what 'capisce' meant. "Do we have a deal?" I held out my hand, hoping not to be murdered within the next few moments.

"Fine," Envy said with a snort of disdain as he shook my hand, "We have a deal." I gave him a slight nod.

"Good," I opened the phone booth door, noting that we were now standing in a small puddle of my blood and Hughes' blood. Judging by the time, the soldiers would come back around within the hour. I looked at Hughes as Envy exited the booth, the homunculus disgusted from having to share the same air with us.

"Please, just trust me," I whispered, picking up the picture of his family from the ground and held it out to him. "I'll keep everyone here safe," His worried hazel eyes seemed gold in the light of the lamp post. "I promise this will be okay in the end, it's just going to take time for the others to figure out what you did, if I tell them, I'll have broken my end of the deal, and your life will be in danger,"

"Human," Envy hissed impatiently, taking the form of Maria Ross once again in a flurry of red, this time making sure the mole under his right eye was present. I looked from Hughes to the homunculus.

I was putting a lot of faith into an artificial human to take care of this matter, but it was the only choice I had of keeping Hughes alive and safe. I hugged him, ignoring the blood from his shoulder that left a red stain on my cheek.

"Do this for Gracia and Elicia, please," I released him from the hug and looked to Envy. Hughes took a shaky step in the disguised homunculus' direction before looking back at me.

"Thank you, Mac," He whispered, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. The two uniformed soldiers slipped through the hedges and walked across the dark grass of the park, leaving me bloody and alone in the small spotlight.

I took a deep breath and fell to the ground against the frame of the phone booth, watching their shadows until my eyes couldn't follow the black shapes in the distance anymore. My head felt as if it were going to split in two, and the pain in my leg returned with vengeance. Warm tears began to streak down my face, stress and pain forcing the droplets from my eyes.

I sat there and cried for a few minutes, terrified I had made a huge mistake as I went over every word I had said. Was I too aggressive? Did I give enough reasons for Envy not to cross me? Would he follow through? Would I be able to follow through on the deal? My chest tightened at the thought, and threatened to bring more tears to my eyes.

I finally managed to calm down, realizing I needed to convince the world that Maes Hughes had been murdered. No matter how much I looked in the bushes, I could no longer find the pistol Envy had used to fire the bullet, leaving me to hope that soldiers wouldn't be able to find it either.

The amount of blood sufficient to convince them he had lost too much blood to be in very good shape was not a problem. Between his wounds and mine, at least a few pints had been spread across the crime scene, and I doubted forensics of this time period could tell our DNA apart and have it be viable in a court of law.

Now came the hard part - selling the story. I started at the phone booth, sure to soak the bottoms on my heels in the blood on the ground before sprinting as quickly as I could with my injuries away from the booth. Tears of pain ran from my eyes, making me look as terrified and as injured as I actually was. It wasn't long before I couldn't keep the pace up, and I slowed to a dogged limp.

Just as a bench where I could rest came into sight, a familiar voice called out.

"Sir, it is past curfew!" It was the guard who had arrested me when I first arrived, mustache and all. "Oh, Miss. Irish, I didn't expect you-" I fell down, my leg unintentionally giving out before I made it to the bench. At least it tied into my act. I had collapsed just a few feet from the pool of light a lamp post cast in the dark. But that light was enough for the two soldiers to see the slowly forming puddle of blood beneath me. "Wundt, go get a medic! Ma'am, what happened?" The soldier rolled me onto my back to observe the wounds better. "My God...Miss. Irish what-"

I reached up and grabbed the collar of his uniform and pulled his ear to my mouth.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes is dead." I croaked, actual blood loss sending stars into my vision. I would barely make out the look of absolute horror on the man's face before the world faded to black, this time without the comfort of the Gate to welcome me.

Masterlist

#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #si/oc #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #bbb writes #bbb #bluebookbadger

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lumiolivierlithium · 7 years

Text

Chapter Fifteen: Yes, Mistress

Word Count: 3735

Chapter No. 15/36

Notes: This chapter is so cute. It makes me turn to mush every time I reread it. Enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen: Follow the Post-Its

Soft, glowing candlelight and scattered rose petals led me to the park gazebo where a bottle of cabernet and a set of glasses waited for me. As beautiful as this was, I was the only one here. No note. No stalker. Not quite sure how to feel about this, but it’s an unopened bottle of wine and sweet serenity. I’m not complaining.

However, the rustling in the woods came off a tad unsettling. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think I heard a camera shutter. I didn’t read too terribly much into it. Instead, I did what I always did when I had no clue what the hell was going on. I looked up and got completely lost in the night sky. The stars seemed a bit more dazzling tonight than usual. Might as well crack open this wine.

“Please, allow me, my lady,” a warm, English accent sent chills down my spine, taking the bottle away from me.

“Are…” I had been rendered speechless, “Are you my stalker?”

“Stalker?” he scoffed, “Heavens, no. You know exactly who I am. If I may call you by your first name?”

“I don’t understand why you haven’t,” I couldn’t move. I wanted to turn around and see the face that matched that voice.

“You needn’t be nervous around me, Mimi,” he tried to comfort me, “You know who I am. You just need to think.”

“I know Sebastian isn’t real,” I rolled my eyes, “I’m almost insulted.”

“Not my intentions,” he assured, “But you’re right.”

“You don’t sound like J. Michael Tatum,” I thought out loud, “Nor do you sound like Daisuke Ono.”

“You’ve heard my voice before,” he promised, “In fact, you heard it earlier today. About four and a half hours ago. Perhaps if I were to go from an English accent to an American one, you’d know exactly who I am.”

“Hold on,” I thought a little harder, instantly settling down, “Julian?”

“Who else would bring you out here?” he dropped the accent and wrapped his arms around the top of my shoulders.

“I thought it was a fan gone nuts,” I admitted, “But you did say keep Saturday open.”

“I promise I won’t kill you,” Julian swore, “But I have been busy.”

“I see that,” I noticed the roses on the other side of the bucket and the rich, blue ribbon wrapped around the gazebo pillars.

“You haven’t even seen the best part,” he spun me around. I…I didn’t know what to say. What stood in front of me…was absolutely flawless.

“Oh my God.”

“Well?” Julian asked, “Good enough?”

He cosplayed Sebastian for me. Down to the last detail, Julian had become Sebastian Michaelis. My body pillow took human form. And I was either about to cry or have a nosebleed. Not quite sure if it’d be metaphorical or not. Hopefully not. This dress was a pain in the ass to make.

“Julian,” I put my hand to his cheek, still not completely sold this wasn’t Sebastian, “You’re perfect.”

There it was again! That snap from the woods! Immediately, my head jerked toward it, snapping me out of my headspace. But of course, because Julian was Julian, he knew exactly what to say when I needed to hear it. He sat me down in the gazebo, “Sorry. I should’ve told you. I had a friend of mine snapping pictures. I couldn’t let this go undocumented.”

“Hello!” some guy waved from the woods.

“Hi,” I started settling down. And once the gravity of the situation began to set in, I swallowed the growing lump in my throat, “Julian, I need some answers like yesterday.”

“You want to know why I put you through the rigmarole,” he assumed, “And all the bullshit of following post-it notes all over your house for us to end up here.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, taking a heavy drink from my wine glass.

“First of all,” Julian took my hand, “You really do make a cute, crossdressing Ciel. I thought I was going to shit myself when I saw you as Miku, but this fits you a lot better.”

“Thank you,” I blushed.

“Perfect,” he smiled, “Paul? You get that?”

“We’re golden!” his friend popped up from behind him.

“Good,” Julian continued, “Now, back to us. When I moved to Lenexa, I was going to become a hermit, give up cosplaying, and fall off the face of the internet. A total ghost story. Instead, I find a little girl at the café that had a spark about her. She was the best kind of weird. She quoted Death Note within our first forty-eight hours and had yaoi dreams about the Iwatobi Swim Club. She spooned a body pillow of this devilishly attractive butler every night. She knew the ins and outs of Fullmetal Alchemist like the back of her hand and could argue why RoyEd is an abomination until she was blue in the face. That’s when I knew. If I were stupid enough to let something like you slip through my fingers, I…I don’t know. I’d deserve to get the shit beat out of me with one of Winry’s wrenches.”

“You, too?” I gasped, understanding exactly what he was trying to say.

“Me, too?” he gave me a look, “You, too?”

“Are we on the same wavelength here?” I wondered, starting to confuse myself.

“I think so,” Julian pulled me against his chest, giving me the deepest, most passionate kiss I’ve ever had in my life. And I never wanted it to end, “Was it something kind of like that?”

“Sort of,” I nuzzled my face in his shoulder.

“I love you, Mimi,” he held me closer.

“I love you, too,” I hid a smile, “Julian, I’ve been wanting to tell you that for the past couple days, but had no idea how.”

“Try the past week.”

“Touché,” I nodded, “But you mean it, right? You actually do…You know…”

“Of course I do,” Julian giggled, “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have gone through all this. You told me you had high standards. If I wasn’t a demon butler, half made of metal, a colonel turned Fuhrer, a host, or beautifully cut and fast in the water, I’d have no shot. So, I thought this would’ve been a good way to get your attention. And I’m sure it made for some excellent pictures, too.”

“Julian,” I curled into his chest, “You did Sebaciel for me.”

“You did Miku for me,” he pointed out, “And tomorrow, you’ll be Misa, too.”

“The things we do for love, right?” I shrugged.

“That’s right,” Julian kissed the top of my head, “Wine?”

“God, yes,” I begged, “My feet are killing me and I’m exhausted. After you left, I forgot how much it sucked being up front alone. And we were packed.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized, “But I’m sure this was worth it, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” I nodded, “Definitely. Was it worth the gonorrhea?”

“Always,” he laughed, “You are worth the gonorrhea.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” his friend thought we were on drugs.

“Inside joke,” Julian explained, “I told the boss I had a doctor’s appointment to get out of work, so I could set this up. By the way, Mimi, this is my friend Paul. He’s my photo bitch. Any time I need cosplay prints, he’s my guy.”

“Excuse me?” Paul shot him a glare, “I’m not your photo bitch. Who takes a ten percent commission on all of your pictures?”

“You.”

“And who came all the way from Kansas City to do this for you?”

“You.”

“Hi,” Paul smiled at me, “I’m Paul. I’m Julian’s photographer, not photo bitch. You’re too good for him. Run far and run fast.”

“Mimi,” I introduced myself, “And I love Julian to pieces. I’m not leaving him. It’s almost like…I sold my soul to him already.”

“You didn’t…” Julian beamed, “Did you put the contacts in, too?”

I untied my eyepatch covering my right eye, revealing the little purple pentagram beneath it, “Of course I did. Like I could cosplay Ciel without the contract.”

“Mother of God, I love you,” Julian held me tighter than the corset did, “If I wasn’t currently working through some commitment issues, I’d marry you.”

“It’s a bit soon for that,” I settled him, “I mean, we just started dating.”

“I like hearing you say that,” he admitted, “It sounds so sweet and lyrical.”

“You don’t need to suck up to me, sweetie,” I assured.

“I wasn’t sucking up,” he promised, “Although, rumor has it your parents are out of town, right?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “How did you know that?”

“How do you think I got into your house?” he scoffed, “Your mom let me in. Your parents were right behind me when I left. Although, they were awfully curious as to why I had one of your dresses.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I needed it for a project,” he kept cryptic, “Good enough for them.”

“Good,” I sighed out, already finishing my second glass.

“So,” Julian brought it back, “Paul, you want to crash at my place tonight since you’re taking our Death Note pictures tomorrow anyway?”

“Sure,” Paul agreed, “Sounds good to me.”

“And you, young lady,” Julian forced my gaze, “Maybe you shouldn’t be home by yourself.”

“Are you proposing a sleepover already?” I assumed.

“I might be.”

“In that case,” I gave him one more kiss, “I don’t see why not. My bed’s a tight fit, though.”

“There’s always your parents’ bed,” he pointed out.

“That’s a California king, too,” I smiled, “Alright. You can stay tonight.”

“And maybe tomorrow?”

“We’ll see,” I filled glass number three.

“As much of a blast third wheeling is,” Paul joked, “Julian, give me your house keys.”

“Yeah,” Julian pulled out his key ring from his coat pocket, “You did lock my house up when you left, right?”

“Yeah,” I took another heavy drink.

“Don’t rifle through my shit,” Julian put his house key in Paul’s hand, “And don’t suck down all my booze.”

“I’ll just eat you out of house and home instead,” Paul promised, “See you tomorrow, guys. It was nice meeting you, Mimi.”

“Bye, Paul!” I waved him off, “He seems like good people.”

“He is good people,” Julian squeaked, “Paul’s the best kind of people. And he’s a damn fine photographer. His pictures are amazing. I met Paul in Kansas City a few years ago and he’s been doing all my pictures since.”

“Do you have any of your prints?” I wondered, “Or do I have to scour the internet?”

“I have some,” he promised, “I’ll show you my portfolio. What about you? You don’t have anything weird I’d find on the internet, do you?”

“Other than my fan fiction?” I thought it over, “No. And I already gave you my link. But just a forewarning, it can get kind of gross.”

“I’m not surprised,” Julian pulled me onto my feet, “You’re a little fujoshi that’s probably got a dark side. If you were bendy in your dream, does that mean you’re bendy for real?”

“What do you think?” I rolled my eyes.

“I think there’s something you’re not telling me,” he teased, holding me close, “Were you a camgirl?”

“No!” I squealed, “No! No! No! I was not a camgirl! I was not whoring myself out on the internet. No! If I’m going to be doing livestreams, they’re going to be gaming related. No! I am not, nor have I ever been a cam girl.”

“I don’t know,” Julian shrugged, “They knock down some decent money. Spend a summer as a camgirl and you’re paying your way through college.”

“I’m not becoming a camgirl,” I put my foot down, “That’s not going to happen. I don’t care how much money they make. It’s degrading.”

“Only if you don’t like it,” he took my hand and we started heading back toward his car, “If you do, it’s just having fun on the internet. Nothing degrading about it. And I just thought since you were cute and you’re a cosplayer…”

“I’m not doing it, Julian,” I growled, “Get the idea out of your head right now.”

“But what if…”

“No!”

“Alright,” he dropped it, “Fine. You’re not going to be a camgirl. But the more you’re willing to do on camera, the more money you make.”

“That’s practically prostitution,” I snapped, “I’m not doing it. Anymore mention of it and I’m going to punch you in the nuts.”

“You know,” Julian smiled, “That’s a weird fetish, too.”

“Julian!” Once I settled down, I had an idea. A way to turn this around, “Don’t make me order you…”

“Please,” he begged, “Order me, Mistress.”

“You’re such a dork,” I rolled my eyes.

“You know,” Julian went back to his normal self, getting the car door for me, “I don’t know what to do with myself. I get to spoon more than Miku tonight.”

“It’s weird, though,” I rested my head on his shoulder, “I still get to snuggle Sebastian.”

“And I get to snuggle a crossdressing thirteen-year-old boy,” he cringed, “Ok, that didn’t even sound better in my head. I feel dirty.”

“You should,” I laughed, “But if it’s any consolation, that thirteen-year-old boy you’ll be cuddling tonight is actually a twenty-two year old girl that’s completely legal and won’t get you jail time.”

“That’s comforting.”

Julian and I went back to my house, ready to call it a night. He untied my corset for me like a sweetheart and I thumbed through my closet. For the sake of wanting to be adorable, I had a onesie for this very occasion. And in an instant, I went from Ciel Phantomhive to Honey-senpai’s bunny Usa-chan.

I went back into the living room where Julian was unfortunately no longer Sebastian. But I could accept that. We had all intentions of putting a movie on and clocking out, but instead, I had something else in mind. Something almost better than that. Usually, my pre-bed movie of choice was Howl’s Moving Castle, so Joe Hisaishi’s beautiful music could soothe me to sleep, but I had a Blu-Ray come in a couple weeks ago and I couldn’t say no.

“Excuse me,” Julian pulled me down to the couch, “Could you not be adorable for five minutes?”

“That’s not happening,” I cuddled into him, “At least I don’t have the hood up.”

“Are you…” he put my hood up for me, “Are you fucking Usa-chan?”

“Maybe,” I grabbed the remote off the coffee table, “You did say you were on episode three, right?”

“Did you grab Dramatical Murder?” he guessed as GOATBED played in the menu.

“I did,” I pushed play, “Something kind of monumental happens this episode and I will be squealing, so promise me you won’t make fun of me.”

“I promise,” Julian pulled my hood down, kissing my forehead, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“I can,” I argued, “It was one of those only a matter of time things. We’re very Edwin like that.”

“That we are,” he agreed, “Now, I love you, Mimi, but shut up. I want to see what’s going on. My Japanese isn’t good enough to watch this without subtitles.”

“Alright,” I stopped, “Go ahead.”

And now, we wait. I watched Julian’s face as the episode progressed. And only a few minutes in, I couldn’t help myself. Noiz had walked into the shop Aoba worked at and I waited. Whenever they’d get just a little close, I’d jump a little, anticipating the ending. That was until Noiz had broken into Aoba’s house and had him pinned against the wall.

“What the hell?” Julian freaked, “Why doesn’t Aoba turn around and deck him?”

“You’ll see,” I settled him.

“And why would Noiz want to destroy Ren?!” he whined, “Ren’s adorable and fluffy! Why?”

“Julian,” I sat in his lap, “Relax. You’ll find out eventually. Just shut up and watch.”

“How is this guy your main?” Julian asked, “He’s a dick with a massive chip on his shoulder.”

“Again,” I repeated myself, “You’ll see.”

“I don’t know, Mimi,” Julian fed me Pocky, “I can’t find myself liking this guy.”

“You’ll learn to love Noiz,” I promised, “Now, shut up! It’s about to get to the good part.”

“That’s sweet, I guess,” he awed as Noiz kissed the back of Mio’s, one of the little kids that frequent the shop to pester Aoba, hand, telling her that rowdy little girls weren’t cute. Personally, I found this a travesty because Mio was the cutest little thing. And she’s got two brothers. She’s not going to not be a little rowdy. Julian let out a little giggle, “Sexual harassing pierced guy? Really? That’s the best they could’ve come up with?”

“Just wait for it,” I beamed, my eyes glued to the screen.

“And why would a simple, sweet gesture get her so flustered?” Julian asked, “It’s not like he was asking her back to his place for cocktails.”

“Wait for it…”

“Exactly,” Julian agreed with him, “It was just a little kiss. It didn’t mean anything.”

“AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I squealed, watching the only true yaoi moment in the whole anime. Noiz and Aoba’s kiss. I wondered if Noiz used tongue. And if Aoba could feel his tongue rings. And if I could get that on a loop, “THERE IT IS! THERE IT IS! THERE IT IS! YES! YES! AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

“Jesus, Mimi,” Julian tried to settle me down, “Now, I understand the warning.”

“THEY’RE SO PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER!” I continued my spazzing, “THEY NEED TO BE TOGETHER!”

“Mimi,” he took a page out of Noiz’s book, kissing me with the same passion, “Relax. I get it. But take it down a notch.”

“Sorry,” I apologized, “I get a little excited when I see my ships sail. And that was the exact moment I started shipping Noiz and Aoba. When I played the game, I played Noiz’s route first. And when that moment popped up, I practically cried.”

“Really?” Julian worried, “I thought you were shipping Noiz and Koujaku.”

“Oh, I do,” I assured, “Don’t get me wrong. But there’s something special about Noiz and Aoba, too. And Aoba and Koujaku. I could see Aoba and Koujaku having the most adorable domestic life.”

“Do tell,” he got up to go to the kitchen and crack another bottle of wine.

“I could see Aoba and Koujaku moving in together,” I painted the picture, “Somewhere in the Old Residential District. Aoba’s heart is there. Koujaku wouldn’t want to take him away from that. They’d get married, adopt a couple babies. Maybe a pair of twins. You’ll find out what that means later. But when the babies start crawling, they’d terrorize the hell out of Ren and Beni. When they got older, Aoba would do carpools and bake sales while Koujaku would come home from work, ready to spend some time with his family. It’d just be the most precious domestic life and I want them to be happy.”

“What about Aoba and Noiz?” Julian wondered, “What if they were to be together forever?”

“They’d travel the world together,” I smiled, “A little bit of a spoiler. More for the game than the anime, but Noiz isn’t from Midorijima. Noiz is from Germany. He’s occasionally his little brother’s personal assistant, so that’s got him going back and forth from Japan to Germany all the time. One day, Noiz would come back to Midorijima and beg for Aoba to move to Germany with him. That’s more game canon.”

“So, what would make them world travelers?” he sat back down, giving me another glass of cabernet.

“I’m sure Noiz would have to go all over the place for his brother,” I assumed, “There’s no way he’d leave his boyfriend behind. They would never want to be separated from each other.”

“Wow,” Julian stole another kiss from me, “You paint such beautiful pictures, Mimi.”

“Some of that,” I admitted, “is fan fiction canon, too.”

“Still came from your imagination, didn’t it?” he pushed my hair out of my face, “I wonder what it’s like to crawl around in your brain. Through your imagination. Through your memories. Through every little thought you have.”

“You’re getting ahead of the storyline, Julian,” I scolded, thinking about how Aoba has the power to do exactly that.

“What?”

“You’ll see,” I turned on another episode.

“So, I have a question,” he wondered, “Do we ever see Aoba and any of the characters doing anything objectionable?”

“In the game, yes,” I nodded, “In the anime, no. That was kind of disappointing. On its own, the series isn’t half bad. I hope a season two comes out with all the fun shit from Reconnect. Then, you’d get to meet Noiz’s little brother and find out a little more about Aoba’s backstory and it’s just…There’s too much in Reconnect to NOT make a season two. If you can’t handle much for yaoi, just watch the anime, but there’s a lot of incredible story in the game, too. Like I said, for it being a yaoi game, it’s a very well written and very deep story. It’s not just two dudes fucking anywhere they can. And one dude fucking a robot. And a dog.”

“No…” Julian cringed, “Not Ren…He’s too pure and too precious for this world. Tell me this doesn’t go into bestiality.”

“It doesn’t,” I clarified, “But the dog…The dog is hot. Ren is a hot dog. His online mode is gorgeous and I would fuck the dog. I know it sounds disgusting, but you’ll understand as we go through the series.”

“It’s no wonder why people think otakus are a little fucked up,” he giggled, pulling me closer to him, “So, I believe I was promised another episode.”

“Yay!” I squeaked, curling into his chest and putting the next episode on.

Never did I ever think I’d be doing this. A Saturday night in a kigurumi with my equally as much otaku as me boyfriend, watching one of my favorite anime. All while in the morning, he and I would be doing a cosplay shoot. Even though we had done one tonight. This feeling was so strange. I had never had it before. With my ex, I was always walking on eggshells, trying to hide who I was from him. It was kind of nice to have someone like me for a change. Someone I don’t have to hide from.

#Sorry For Being a Closet Otaku #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2016

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bluebookbadger-blog · 7 years

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The Price of a Life - Chapter 3

I couldn't sleep again that night, or even the next, not even getting a few seconds of splendid nothingness in my anxiety. I had come across a dilemma in my planning, and worst of all there was no more milk. The problem was, Tucker's experiment on Nina and Alexander was an important step to Ed and Al realizing how important it was for them to stay alive.

In order to keep the story straight, I needed to keep the emotional and character development as the same as possible. For Hughes, that just meant keeping him out of the picture or at least convince others (aka Flame Colonel) of his death. However, when it came to the deaths of characters influencing the development of others, it meant that some degree of death and suffering had to be involved.

I was the kind of girl who saw these kind of moral decisions in black and white most of the time. Something was right or it was wrong, good or bad, that kind of stuff. But the lives of people? Intentionally making Edward get depressed and in effect attacked and almost killed by Scar? Not to mention his automail and Alphonse would get all busted up...poor Winry. This was a little much for me to deal with, let alone practically decide the fate of the whole series.

'An Alchemist's Anguish' and 'Rain of Sorrows' were the first really serious life and death episodes people cried about, unless they had some weird attachment to Cornello or McDougal, and it's not as if the story focused on the past trauma the Elrics had endured (not a ton I could do to help them now).

I didn't want to think about how I would deal with future situations, let alone this one, so I decided to draw some silly doodles of Maes instead. Now, I was no artist, which was why I was calling them silly doodles. They're literally stick figures with glasses and a cowlick. That was it. That was my artistic ability.

The 'drawings' (if you could call them that) clashed horribly with my messy consideration of Nina and Alexander' experimentation/deaths as a) preventable b) necessary and c) reversible. I could try to find a way to keep the resulting chimera of Tucker's experiment alive long enough for proper research to reverse their condition to be discovered, however, that meant the two having to live as that monstrosity for who knows how many years.

Not to mention the Tuckers' deaths were something that really sent Ed over the edge, thus creating the whole 'look how cool it is to be alive!' speech Alphonse had to give him. It also updated Winry on the Elric's situation, and lead to the meeting with Dr. Marcoh, which led to the fifth laboratory, not to mention Sheska's job - it all came from that event practically, and without it, no one would be able to stop Father on The Promised Day. The snowball effect of the plot was awful when considering the impact of people's deaths, but it also made one hell of a show.

All these moral and plot questions were really messing with my head, so I decided to get a glass of water. This was a mistake, as it seemed to have woken Maes up. Well, he didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep either. I almost bolted for my bedroom when I heard his door open, but decided against it since my ankle was acting up again.

I had the notebook in my room, so it was probably safe so long as Lucha didn't try to eat it. He was still acting weird, sleeping more than usual and eating less. I was starting to get worried he was depressed or something. Anyways, Hughes walked in on me as I sat down at the table. I was wearing a new nightgown Gracia had bought for me, all frilly and white like something out of a horror movie.

"Can't sleep?" I asked, peering up from my glass. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and it was just downright weird. A Maes without glasses was like an Irish without a Lucha. It was just damn unnatural. Besides the bizarre lack of glasses, Maes seemed kind of beat down, barely cracking a smile when he walked past me to start the coffee machine.

I never noticed how old it looked. Like, it was a freaking dinosaur. Probably this world's equivalent of an early Pavoni Espresso Machine. I wondered if they still drank it with or without grinds in, what year was this, 1913? The invention of filters came out in 1908 I thought… Wait, no, Elicia turned three not too long from now and she was born in 1911 so...1914-ish? So yeah, no coffee grinds.

I hate coffee, and in an episode of hyperfixation, I spent several days researching everything about my nemesis. As they say, “know thy enemy”.

In reality though it was for a school project, but I still fucking hate that vile bean juice.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Hughes said, waking me from my coffee musings. He had the machine running and sat down across from me, waiting for it to finish. "Want to ask me that question from earlier?"

No. I really didn't want to ask the damn question. I was a little distracted by the consequences of saving lives to think about taking them. Still, it was probably the reason I snapped at Elicia earlier and the reason I hadn't been sleeping. I rested my chin on my hands, looking across the dark room at the pictures on the mantel.

"You've killed people, right? In the civil war?" I was glad I was collected enough to act like I was making assumptions about Hughes' career as a soldier. "How do you...is it possible, I mean, to get over it?"

My heart felt as if someone had stabbed me through and through with a hot iron, and my mouth had suddenly become the Mojave Desert. My cheeks were crimson, and I knew the dark couldn't hide the tears that slipped down my cheeks. Part of me thought I was being weak, another felt vulnerable and scared, and a final piece was ready to break down sobbing and hug Maes like he was my own father.

It was quiet for a while, as if Hughes was letting me collect myself a little before he said anything that might upset me more. I realized how long I had been sitting there trying to stop the tears when I heard a short, quiet click from the coffee machine. Hughes got up and poured himself a cup. I was considerably more relaxed now, but still on the verge of tears. I had to stop crying every night, it was starting to become a bad habit. Maes sat next to me, not drinking his coffee as he thought for a moment.

"It's not something you're really supposed to 'get over'." He said slowly, assessing my lack of reaction. I tried my best to not mentally berate the statement, he wasn't finished. "But it is something you need to learn to cope with. I'm no expert in trauma - at least not on paper - but, just try to accept what you did and move on." Oh snap, I brought out the serious Hughes. Shit was about to get real. Okay, so it seemed I coped with humor.

"It's hard at first, but it helps to have someone to talk to when you start obsessing with it - blaming yourself, others, denial, that kind of stuff. You shouldn't avoid it necessarily, but it shouldn't be something that runs your life." I nodded, feeling slightly better. I was considerably more collected than I had been a minute or two ago, suddenly feeling stupid for even bothering Hughes. It probably brought up bad memories for him, not to mention there were probably books about trauma in the library - though, it would burn down before the Elrics got back from their trip to Resembool to recuperate, right? Ugh, stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Thanks, really, thank you." I said, my voice raspy from all the damn crying I'd been doing. I really hated crying in front of people, if you couldn't tell from my little self loathing speech up there. This is the most I had cried all month. He almost awkwardly rubbed my back in an attempt to help me calm down some more. Sweet of him, but it seemed to only make me more upset. My dad would always rub circles on my back like that when I was upset."Can I ask you something else?"

"Sure, anything." Maes said softly, taking a sip of his coffee, a faraway look misting over his eyes. Ugh, I was so stupid for asking for help - why couldn't I learn to deal with stuff on my own? Part of me was aware that I did the right thing by asking him for advice, but it still made me feel bad. I needed to change the subject before I started to cry again.

"What does my Honorary Citizenship come with? Why did it impress Miss. Reich enough to get me a job?" I asked, genuinely curious. It seemed all official and pretty, but what was special enough to a) get me out of prison and b) get me a job with a prejudiced shopkeeper who had zero knowledge of my skills or abilities? Hughes also seemed happy to change the morbid subject to something else.

"Well, they aren't common to say the least. I'm pretty sure only two have even been issued before you - both before King Bradley was Fuhrer. They're the highest honor that can be given to a citizen. If you ever decide to join the military, you get a starting rank of a corporal once you graduate from the academy. And even if you don't, you still have access to the same career benefits - insurance and whatnot - that a corporal would.

"There's also some legal power with it, I'm pretty sure you have the power to arrest someone under certain circumstances - I think you have to have witnessed the crime with multiple witnesses and have at least a sergeant present." I nodded, a bit intimidated by the power the small piece of paper held. It was like having Order 3066 in your back pocket, except it wouldn't cause, you know, mass genocide and that kind of stuff.

I knew about military ranks, at least a little. My older sister back home was a Chief Petty Officer of the U.S. Coast Guard, so we heard plenty of this and that, but naval ranks weren't exactly the same as army ranks.

"A corporal? What kind of job would I do?" I asked, interested. If I became involved with the military, I could keep a closer eye on Hughes and the Elrics. However, that meant Pride and Wrath would be able to keep a close eye on me. The Fuhrer had most likely already figured out that my story had some small plot holes, especially the Drachman part of it. I didn't know shit about Drachman culture, let alone some religion - I should have probably given it a name so they didn't think the story was too vague. I'll call it...Utkism? Yes. A religion named after the Russian word for duck. After finishing this little tirade with myself I realized Hughes was looking at me oddly with a small, sleepy smile growing on his face. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" He stroked his scruffy beard sagely.

"You could work with me, once you finish at the academy that is." I realized I probably missed a whole spiel on what the hell a corporal was supposed to do, so I just nodded. All this nodding was starting to hurt my neck.

We talked for a little longer about the academy; how long I'd be there if I applied, what it'd be like, stuff like that. It was around two in the morning when I realized how often we were both yawning. We had gotten to the subject of state alchemists somehow, probably by talking about Edward, and were both struggling to maintain the conversation.

"I'm heading to bed," That was a lie, I was going back to awful moral questioning and arguing with myself over the lives of people, but Maes seemed to believe it as he too began to make his way back to his room.

"See you in the morning," The man said with a yawn, making me yawn as I entered the room. Sitting on my bed, I was happy to find the notebook unscathed. The bed was really squishy and comfortable, but I couldn't fall asleep with all the planning I had to do.

The first page of the notebook had the title of the pilot episode 'Fullmetal Alchemist'. There wasn't really much I could 'plan' for the past, but I did jot down a few notes about who I came into contact with - Kimblee probably listened in on me and McDougal, Wrath (which I simply marked with a WWE symbol just in case Seliem, or rather, Pride, was up past his bedtime spying on me), Mustang, Riza, The Armstrong Squad, the Elrics, ect. I also made a minor note of the other officers and soldiers I had met, and my 'story' of how I got there and my background. It would be both embarrassing and terrifying to screw up a lie.

The next page had both 'The First Day' and 'The City of Heresy' episode titles just to jog my memory (I lied about having an eidetic memory to you, I was only good for memorizing lists, names, and numbers. Did I forget to mention I was a compulsive liar? Just kidding, that was a lie.). I had recently given up on 'An Alchemist's Anguish' as it nearly took up two whole pages and I didn't know how long this little book was.

The next episode was really sad with lots of rain, when Scar went after the Elrics...ah, yes. 'Rains of Sorrows' would happen the day after the Tuckers were murdered. It would be cool to see if I could prevent Ed and Al some pain, but then they wouldn't have to go to Resembool and meet Marcoh on the way so I guessed I had to let shit go down between Scar and the state alchemists. Speaking of which, I was pretty sure all of this would happen in East City. I should have probably found a map so I could figure out where the hell I was at least half the time.

On another note, Lucha was finally awake for once, and not hungry. But he was still acting strangely, a twitching mess acting as if he had never walked before, stumbling around the bed like a drunken pig. I sighed, walking over to the extra bed and picking the snake rat up.

"Are you sick little buddy?" His eyes were cloudy, as if he had cataracts. This made me nervous. I didn't think the vets here would provide care for living slinkies, let alone know how to remove a cataract. I kept trying to get a better view of his eyes, which was hard considering how fidgety he was. "Geez, would you stop-" I squeaked in pain as he bit me. No blood was drawn, but it hurt like hell. "Fu-dge." I said, curbing a curse as Lucha found his footing on the bed and began to tentatively shuffle over to the notebook. "No you don't you evil little-" I stopped when I realized he was picking the pen up in its mouth, dragging the tip over the page.

Okay, I knew ferrets were smart, but he was not really one to stick with stereotypes so Lucha was always a bit of an...astronaut. Yeah, an astronaut. He was never really all there, a bit dopey and clumsy (my brother dropped him when we first got the ferret, I cried the whole way to the vet and back). Anyways, no ferret - no animal (at least without an opposable thumb) should have been able to write.

I finally got out of my stupor when he made this strangled squeak, like he was afraid to make too much noise. Lucha seemed to want me to look at what he wrote. It was three simple words, messy and with letters that were somewhat backwards and too large for me to read the first few seconds I stared at the ink.

"I AM TRUTH" It read, which made me let out a short bark of laughter. Lucha in turn glared at me and gave a short snarl.

"Sorry, it's just," I really couldn't stop giggling. One of the most powerful and all knowing beings of the series, so powerful and influential some called it a god, came to earth in the form of a ferret. "You're so weak, in that form I mean." Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but it was hilarious. The cloudiness of Lucha's eyes cleared to reveal a violet eye, rings circling around a small pupil, like the eye that appears in the middle of a human transmutation circle. Lucha - Well, Truth I guessed, picked up the pen again. "Oh, not on the notebook!" I said, snatching the small tome from the pen's inky reaches.

Truth snorted, looking around for something else to write on. I guess I gave that pen to Truth, I didn't want to write with a slimy bitten ferret pen. Finding nothing, Lucha crawled up to me and began to draw the pen's sharp tip over my shin. It hurt a little, but it would wash off later. It took me a minute to read when the ferret had written, I had to turn my head to read the upside down letters.

"What do you mean you don't like it but have to deal with it? Is this about the thing you said when I was at the Gate, you know, about not being able to possess a creature with a soul?" The ferret's snow white head bobbed up and down. "Aw, but I was kind of the person who thought that maybe-" Lucha shook his head, practically having a seizure suddenly. "Lucha!" I whispered urgently, catching the small animal before he fell off the bed to the hardwood floor below.

He looked up at me, his green eyes sparkling with their little golden flecks. Crawling around my neck, Lucha nuzzled my cheek before resting on my shoulder. I sighed, knowing Truth probably could tell me something I was wondering.

I did remember what I learned from seeing the Truth, I just needed to know if I was applying that knowledge correctly. I learned that a life would have to be taken if my presence interrupted the death of another person, meaning that if I did save Nina and Alexander, someone would die. I had no way of knowing who or when, but that could seriously screw with the timeline more than plain and simple stopping an event.

Are you starting to see my big problem with saving them? And don't even mention Hughes, I was not ready for that kind of emotional trauma after the little therapy session I just had. I just wanted to ask Truth if there was a way to predict who would die in the other person's place. But, I was stuck with a sleepy slinky that was now chewing on my hair. Was he trying to force me to bathe again? Probably.

By the time I rubbed the ink off my leg, it was only 2:30. Needing something to keep me busy, I decided to go for a walk around town and get my bearings. It'd be easier to walk around at night too, not as many people out and such. Was there a curfew? Maybe, but I'd just whip out my wondrous Certificate and get a free pass. Hopefully. I left a note on the table anyway telling Maes to call the police station if I wasn't back for breakfast.

Before I could get out the door, thunder shook the building, and lightning flashed outside as a downpour began. Just my luck. And here you would think a girl named Irish would be lucky. Still, the thunder and lightning seemed to have stopped and the initial flood of rain had quickly been reduced to a light shower. Okay, so maybe I did have some luck to my name. I decided to wear one of the skirts Gracia had bought me.

Now, I'm down to wear steel toed boots and jeans and work in the mud and drive tractors all day, but I spent my first twelve school years in a skirt and blouse. In high school, I did wear jeans and boots and hoodies daily, but dressing up was my absolute favorite thing to do.

But I digress, the skirt was long, like, traditional and formal western style. It was blue with a belt that she had bought for it. Not really my style, too loose for my liking but it would do for a quick walk. The white blouses she had bought made me uncomfortable with its relatively see through fabric, so I decided on wearing one with this cute little dress jacket that mostly hid my grey sports bra from peeking out from beneath the thin fabric.

Everything was relatively comfortable, except for the frilly collar of the blouse, it was kind of itchy. To top it off, I found this hat Mrs. Hughes had left in the bottom of the closet. It had lost most of its 1900 feathers and flowers that it once adorned, and I wished they had some cloche hats around that I could use instead, but at least this would hide my hair, which was beginning to look more like a mane.

I felt very proper, with all the old clothes I was wearing. Resisting the urge to narrate my journey to the front door with a British accent, I decided to recite a few lines of Jane Austen's Emma mentally. At the front door I was contented to find a pair of shoes that, though not my size in anyway, would suffice for a quick run through the rain. I was about to put the dress pumps on when I realized the rain might ruin the old shoes. Industry was just starting to get back to producing peacetime goods after the war, so they probably weren't the best quality.

"Okay, so barefoot it is." I said quietly, checking to make sure I had everything I needed before quietly heading out with Lucha around my neck like a breathing fur scarf. As much as I loved my slippers and orthotics, barefoot was always the way to go in the rain, so long as there weren't any broken bottles lying around.

The lights in the reception area were still on, but no one was there to stop me from stealing an umbrella from the cute old umbrella stand. There were lots of umbrellas, and it wasn't as if anyone was going to be in such a rush at this hour.

Outside it was beautiful. The street lamps were still the type that needed to be lit every evening, which resulted in some of them sputtering out of existence with the rain. However, the few left burning were enough to light the streets. The shower was lightening up, but the rain was kind of peaceful. I walked all the way down main street before I saw anyone. It was starting to lighten up a little, almost an hour had passed since I left the Hughes' residence, but it was still pretty dark out.

The man was military, his blue uniform bearing many medals and awards, which made my heart skip a beat out of fear. He was also imposing in his own right, taller than Maes with a pointy handlebar mustache. The officer was familiar, but I just couldn't put my finger on where I had seen him. Believe it or not, seeing 'characters' as 'people' was strange. Like, actually imagine meeting a living breathing human being with gold eyes like Ed? It just was a lot different than seeing it through a screen. You saw imperfections, small things that make them human instead of flawless animations. Real freaky.

The rain had stopped and I had as well in my maladaptive daydreaming about how easy it would be to mistake Hughes for anyone other than himself if you saw the man in a crowd. He would honestly look just like any dad, and unless you talked to him, you'd have no clue who he was, super fan of the show or not. In my distraction, I didn't realize that the man had slipped into an alley until I heard what sounded like my little brothers starting a pretend WWIII with opening speeches. Still clutching my umbrella, I ran up to the alley way before stopping to listen to the conversation.

"-You've picked the wrong target!" A voice said brusquely before an alchemic reaction took place, blue lightning crackling and lighting up the alley way. Literal canon fire came towards my end of the alley, causing me to duck away as smoke and fire reigned for a moment.

"You're fast," The same voice said, the scene still not clicking quite yet. "Try this!"

The smell of chemistry class was bringing on flashbacks to the great Disaster of McCarthy, in which a friend of mine a) put out match with his tongue and then b) broke the Bunsen burner and made an impromptu flame thrower. Chemistry class was not fun. What sounded like chains broke my post traumatic stress visions of the boy fearfully wielding the weapon of minor destruction. The voice continued onward as his assumed combatant avoided the attack.

"A little more!"

Why all the yelling? Was he trying to attract attention or help, or was this just how people duel in the olden days of 1914? There were three consecutive bangs as something closed, the moment of silent prompting me to peer around the corner.

"Hm, that wasn't so difficult." I finally recalled the opening scene of 'An Alchemist's Anguish', watching in horror as….Brigadier something or other Grand approached the newly made iron box.

"Oh fickle fudge balls." I said under my breath, dropping my umbrella and hiking up my skirt to quickly sprint over. "Mister officer sir please don't-" An explosion interrupted me as Scar broke out of the box using his deconstruction alchemy to grab the Iron-Blood Alchemist by the face.

"What? No, how?" His muffled voice said in surprise. I backed away, terrified but unnoticed thus far. I put my back against the box's wall, not wanting to intervene or be noticed. My heart felt like a car's piston as it pumped, fast and loud.

"Now you perish," A new voice said, husky and solemn as the crackle of an alchemic reaction occur, Grand falling with a thud and blood dripping to the ground. It was quiet for a moment, and I started to back away from the scene as blood came into view. I kept back up, keeping my eyes on the blood before I bumped into someone.

It felt like my heart was going to explode as he used a hand to pin my head against the box. Lucha had been knocked off my neck, falling into a puddle along with my hat. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the brimming tears, but calmed myself. This was Scar. He only killed State Alchemists, right? I slowly opened my eyes to look up, and was surprised by what I saw.

So, you know how Scar was always portrayed as this grumpy looking guy with a permanent scowl and all? Yeah, went right by the real design. Okay, so the scowl thing was spot on, but his face was a lot softer looking from what I could see (his hand was on my forehead but it still blocked a good part of my view).

He didn't kill me, he was just, looking at me. For a split second by the direction of his shaded eyes I thought he was looking at my chest, but he was looking at my choker necklace. It had popped over the blouse's collar uninvited, sparkling in the moonlight that now peeked from behind the clearing clouds.

My hand instinctively grabbed it as I tried to make eye contact. It was kind of hard to make eye contact with people when they wore shades like that, and he was really tall, okay? Maybe not Armstrong tall, but Scar was up there in my list of Tall People of Amestris.

The man wouldn't make eye contact, his view shifting to the amazing rainbow of colors my bruises had acquired as they finally started to fade. Geez, I didn't want pity, especially not from a guys who was in the position to kill me or worse. We both looked down when Lucha growled the most adorable growl a ferret could make, attacking Scar's shoe with ferocity.

He finally stopped trying to squish my head against the box, allowing me to see the infamous scar. It wasn't marring, just a light cross of pale grey across his darker skin. I was enraptured by his tattoo, the intricate and conspicuous design mesmerizing.

Scar abruptly turned and began walking calmly away, Lucha losing his grip on the shoe and curling around my ankle and snarling angrily. Looking down, I realized it wasn't Lucha (the little bastard would never bite anyone, unless he was hungry). Truth's purple eyes stared up at me for a moment before the white ferret seized and writhed for a few second before lying still. Sliding to the ground, I held my snake rat out of the puddle he was inadvertently drowning in. Scar was still walking away, and I could hear sirens somewhere in the distance. My eyes went back to his arm.

"You're older brother wouldn't want this." I said quietly, but my voice echoed in the empty, window lined alleyway. The man took off running as the blare of sirens advanced, not acknowledging my statement beyond a short pause in his step. I curled my knees to my chest, holding Lucha close.

The realization of what just occurred hit me like a wall of bricks, and I ended up retching. It didn't last long, but I still felt disgusted with having to wipe the vomit from my mouth. Lucha had managed to escape the episode unscathed, I almost crushing him against my chest to keep him away from the mess I made. Believe it or not, it was relieving to throw up for once. It felt as if all of the pent up stress of the past few days was gone in an instant.

I should have just waited for Hughes and Armstrong to show, I knew they would get here to investigate the body before morning and they'd find me and question me and maybe take me to a hospital and everything would be okay in the end. But I panicked and ran. Not after Scar, oh Truth no. I ran home, or at least tried to. About halfway there, a familiar pair of voices yelled,

"Stop! You're under arrest-" I crashed right into Brosh and Ross and we all went tumbling to the ground. Lucha managed to survive yet a second crash landing that morning.

"M-Miss. Irish?" Brosh stuttered, helping me to my feet once he found his own. I was a mess, the skirt's hem all muddy and the entire skirt soaked from when I went to pick up Lucha earlier. I was in a bit of shell shock just staring around me at the familiar faces as if they were total strangers. I started run again, wanting only to curl up with a cup of hot cocoa if such a thing existed in this world.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Maria asked, catching me by my arm. My breathing was speeding up, an asthma attack seeming imminent as I began to stress about how I would explain that I was a witness fleeing a murder scene. "Woah, calm down, tell us what happened."

Why did she have to have that motherly tone? I was about to start crying again when I noticed Armstrong and Hughes getting out of a car. So that was why Maes was up last night (or, well, this morning), he never did sleep because he was working on this case. In my daze of confusion and realization, I almost forgot about Maria's question.

"Oh, um," Well, I couldn't say I was enjoying an early morning walk now could I, even though that was the truth a little while ago. I looked at my feet. "I saw something I probably shouldn't have." I said quietly, Maria and Denny looking to each other before gently leading me in the direction of Hughes and Armstrong.

Great. This was going to be lots of fun, all rainbows and unicorns. I just wanted to go home, I might have even gotten some rest knowing that the story was progressing. But no, I had to be interrogated - for like the second time this week! Why couldn't I just do something normal and get a normal experience in return? Equivalent exchange and all that stuff? Hughes looked up from the body, which they had thankfully covered with a sheet. The blood stains on the ground still made me feel physically ill though. Armstrong and he turned to me and my two escorts.

"We found her fleeing the scene, sirs." Denny said, I having to restrain a glare. The guy made it sound like I was the one who killed Grand.

"She claims to have witnessed it." Hughes nodded as Maria said this, his fatherly attitude earlier nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, 2nd Lieutenant and Sergeant. Take Irish to central command and make sure she's okay. Don't question her until we get there." Maes said. I wasn't liking his serious tone, I had heard too much of it already this morning. Before I could get a word out otherwise, a new car pulled up, Bradley stepping out of the passenger door and approaching us. All of the soldiers saluted, but I just nodded in the general direction of the car. It's headlights were like looking at the sun. "Fuhrer Bradley, your excellency, what brings you here?" Hughes asked as the man approached Grand's body.

"I got word of what happened." He said gravely, looking down at the blood stained sheet. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, you're the officer in charge of this case?" Hughes looked up, replying with a curt,

"Yessir."

"Should you need any additional personnel, just ask." Bradely's voice suddenly became rather frightening considering what he personified. "The man doing this is a traitor, I want him stopped." Both Hugh and Armstrong mirrored my own slightly nervous expression at the Fuhrer's seriousness before nodding.

"Sir." Hughes said in acceptance of the task. Bradley turned to leave, but stopped as he saw me with his good eye. He probably saw me earlier with his 'all seeing eye' thing but wouldn't have been able to with the eye patch under normal circumstances.

"Irish?" I lowered my head, looking at my bare feet. They were cold, and wet, standing out starkly against the dark stone ground. "You just can't keep out of trouble, now can you kiddo." Ugh, could he not call me 'kiddo'? Only my Uncle Thomas was allowed to call me that, not the physical manifestation of Wrath.

"I'm sorry sir," I looked up making eye contact. "Trouble has a funny way of finding me." He nodded before taking his leave, allowing me to finally relax. It made you tense to be in that guy's presence, he just made you so damn nervous that he would kill you if you said the wrong thing. I sighed, looking to Hughes then to the Armstrong Squad. "Let's get this over with, I might even take that coffee offer now Hughes."

We all got into a car, I was pretty sure it was the same one Hughes had driven me to his apartment complex in because the crumbs on the floor were suspiciously similar to the cookie Lucha had been eating that day. The drive was mostly quiet, in exception for Lucha's snoring.

"Where are your shoes?" Maria asked at one point, noticing my bare feet. I shrugged, stroking my ferret's white fluff.

"I didn't want to ruin the new shoes Mrs. Hughes bought me by using them in the rain."

"So, you went barefoot?" Denny asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. I nodded, happy we weren't talking about the murder.

"Yep. Why? Did I break another law?" I asked, worried I had broken some stupid law like we had back in the states. Did you know that in some places it's illegal to walk backwards down the street with an ice cream cone in your back pocket on a Sunday? Weird.

"No. It's just a little…" I sighed, nodding as Maria faltered.

"Strange, I know. I never really wear shoes that much since there are never any my size." I explained, even though it was a partial lie. I didn't wear shoes when they messed with my balance or I didn't want to ruin a new pair. And they did have shoes my size, the problem was, well-

"But you're feet aren't that small." Denny pointed out, observing my left foot. "Even if sizes here are different than Drachman sizes, I'm sure there'd be something-"

"No, not like that." I interrupted, putting my heels together to show the two the difference. "See? My left foot is a size seven and a half, but my right foot is a size three, uh, in Drachman sizes that is." They really were in American sizes though, which made it a pain to buy shoes. You would already spend a hundred bucks on a pair of dress shoes but oh, you have to buy a second pair! It really sucked.

"Oh…" Both of the officers said, Maria speaking up and saying, "Is foot binding from Xing practiced in Drachma?" Eek, they had foot binding around still? Ouch.

"Nah, it's a genetic thing. The bones in my feet never properly formed so when my feet started to grow, the bones were still partially fused together and, well, my right foot's the result." Denny grimaced.

"Sounds like it hurt." I nodded.

"Like hell, but it stopped when I stopped growing so it's not so bad now." They were looking at me weirdly. "What?"

"How old are you?" Maria asked, a puzzled expression on her face as she and Denny looked me up and down. I looked at my chest and crossed my arms defensively.

"Seventeen, why do you ask?" That made Denny uncomfortable, and probably Maria too but she seemed to hide it better than him.

"Uh, well, you just look...young, for your age." My turn to raise a brow at him.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"We're here." Hughes said, glancing momentarily at us as he pulled the rickety old - well, old to me - car up the road of the monstrous building known as Central Command. Sunlight was finally blessing the land with its warmth, which meant I had another long day ahead of me.

I was getting real tired of this building, we're good acquaintances, but I was not overly fond of Command so I think we need some time apart. It was not Command, it was me. Actually no, it was the guy running Command and this whole damn country that I needed to spend some time away from. Unfortunately for me, it seemed no one in the car heard about my breakup with Command, so they dragged me along anyway.

After a long series of ridiculously baffling hallways, we somehow arrive at Hughes' office. Quaint little place, nothing like Mustang's temporary office he had while he was in Central, but kind of comforting. I was actually pretty nervous. I did have my certificate with me, laminated and tucked safely into my belt, but that piece of paper couldn't protect me from interrogation methods of the 1914s.

"Sit down." Hughes 'offered' motioning to a chair in front of his desk. Armstrong, Brosh, and Ross were on the couch behind me, taking notes. Well, Maria was the only one with a pad of paper and a pen so I guessed she was the one taking notes. "So, can you tell us when happened?" I sighed, unintentionally cracking my neck as I retold the events.

"Well, I was just walking down the street and it was raining - oh Tru-ck I dropped an umbrella I borrowed, do you think we'll be able to get it back?" I asked, looking behind me to Denny and Armstrong. They didn't realize I was actually looking for answer until Hughes cleared his throat.

"Don't worry about that for now, so you were walking in the rain, how did you stumble upon the murder?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly a murder, it was more of a fight. I heard some guy talking all preacher like about judgement and all so I decided to eavesdrop since it seemed interesting-"

"You didn't think to get the police?" Hughes interjected, not looking up from a note he was writing. Well, shit. Never thought about that…

"Um, well, no. There wasn't really anyone around except for the guy - Grand or whatever - and I got a little distracted after he went down the alley so anyway the guy was talking all preachy-like and I was eavesdropping. Grand sounded really confident he would win when they started fighting. I missed some of what he said, but after the fight started the preachy-guy didn't talk much. Anyway I decided to look when everything was quiet and I wasn't being shot at by freaking canons, and Grand got the guy trapped in a box. I went to go ask him if he was okay but then there were blue sparkles - alchemy I think - and a hole in the box formed. The guy had Grand by the head and I looked away when he used the alchemy stuff to-"

"You said he used alchemy?" Hughes asked, looking up. Oh, frickle frackle firetruck. Did I screw up? Truth, if you posses Lucha and tell me I didn't just give away info that might change the story in some way that'd be real great.

"Uh, yeah. I think. It was a little like what McDougal did when he froze that guy's arm back at the prison. That's the only alchemy I've ever seen before."

"They don't have alchemy in Drachma?" Armstrong asked, surprising me with his low, booming voice.

"Uh, not that I've seen." He nodded, allowing me to relax a little. Why was this so nerve racking? You're telling the truth mostly - but you probably shouldn't mention what you told Scar about his brother, that would screw shit up for sure Irish.

"Continue, please." Hughes asked, his glasses hiding his eyes from view with their glare. I never really got how glasses did that, maybe you needed special lenses...Adjusting my own spectacles, I did as he asked.

"Yeah so after Grand died I started to back away because I didn't want to mess with the guy - he wasn't going to let a witness go probably. But I kind of bumped into him and he grabbed me - oh Hughes, I lost my hat. I found this hat in that closet, real vintage 1900s stuff and it hid my hair well but it's probably still there-" Hughes cleared his throat. "Oh, sorry. Um, yeah he just kind of looked at me for a minute - my hair and eyes kind of caught him off guard I guess, and he kind of was starting to creep me out when he stared at my necklace." My hand touched the sterling silver Celtic cross.

"He took interest in your hair and eyes - your necklace, what is it, a religious symbol?" Hughes asked distractedly as he jotted down some notes. Thank Truth for me coming up with a name for the 'religion' earlier.

"Yessir, it's an Utkist cross. A symbol of martyrdom, unity, and struggle." Eh, close enough?

"Utkism, would you care to elaborate? Is it a well known religion?" Well, um, improvisation!

"The religion of Ire, my home village. It's very far in the north of Drachma by the sea, very secluded. I'm afraid it's not a well known religion by those who don't live there. Even in Drachma it has little influence beyond the far northwest." Were they buying it? Truth, why did Hughes have to have such a good poker face? Probably learned from surprise attacks on Mustang with pictures of Elicia and Gracia. That man was the absolute best. Wait, wrong time to compliment the guy interrogating you Irish - bad timing!

"Hm, a murderer of State Alchemists using a form of alchemy, and a possible connection to a small religious group." Oh, Truth. Hughes I am so sorry if this screwed up your investigation. Please don't ask me if there are any other people from Ire in Amestris please! "Could he perhaps be from your village?" Ugh, I guess that's not as bad.

"No way, I got a pretty good look at him and I knew almost every one of the maybe hundred people that live in Ire when I left only a few years ago. Besides, his skin was too dark and he had a weird scar on his forehead." I said, making up the little village of Ire in my head. A cute village where you know your neighbors and have your children marry them in arranged ceremonies. Also home to the duck religion, that worships a legendary duck called Mother Goose that was fabled to lay golden eggs. Yes, this would work nicely. Apologies any actual religions that worship ducks and geese - I needed something to convince these guys with!

"So, the Scarred Man struck again." Maria said with a sigh.

"Yes, who else has been targeting State Alchemists and killing them in an odd fashion?" Denny responded.

"The who now?" I asked, hoping to stay off the topic of the actual interrogation. Hughes looked up from his notes, his glasses no longer hiding his hazel irises.

"The Scarred Man, though most of us just call him 'Scar' for short. He's been targeting and killing State Alchemists, and it looks like Grand was his latest victim." Maes said, compiling and straightening his notes. "How'd you get away? You seem to have a knack for escaping murderers."

"One of my many unusual talents acquired from living with my weird family of freaks. One of the many…" I said wistfully, smiling at his confused and slightly concerned expression. "He let me go if you're that concerned. Lucha did bite him but, in case you haven't noticed, Lucha's a bit of a wimp." The living slinky was exploring the office, currently gnawing on Armstrong's boot lace, which seemed to entertain the big man greatly.

"Did you see where he went?"

"Nope," I swung my legs back and forth, my feet barely touched the ground in this tall chair. "I got sick with stress - you try facing off with murders twice in one week - then I ran like the wind and hoped to curl up in a ditch somewhere and pretend it never happened." Hughes nodded.

"And then you ran into 2nd Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Brosh, correct?"

"Yepsterdoodles." He looked at me as if I had grown three heads, but said nothing as he nodded nonetheless and handed his notes to Maria.

"Thanks for your help Mac, you're free to go!" Hughes said in a suddenly jovial mood. This guy had some serious mood swings sometimes.

"Uh, can I stay for the day actually?" He looked at me in a kind of surprised manner.

"Sure, why?" I shrugged looking around the office.

"I guess I want to see if there's anything I can help with. But, I do want a list of the State Alchemists if you could get me that. There's something I want to check out." Maes seemed to think for a moment before looking to Armstrong and the amazing babysitting duo.

"Armstrong, see if you can get that list for Mac; Brosh, Ross, could you two make sure she keeps herself out of trouble - or at least keep trouble from finding her.

"Yessir," The three said, Armstrong leaving to get the list of Alchemists. Hughes turned to Denny and Maria.

"Can you two take her home so she can get a change of clothes? You must be uncomfortable in those clothes Mac." I nodded, the soaked skirt and frilly blouse collar not helping me relax.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan."

Masterlist

#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #si/oc #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #bbb writes #bbb #bluebookbadger

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