#i cry every day over maes hughes

[hikari-ni-naritai]

Em I know its been years but Im crying over maes hughes agajn :( it was done so amazingly vut I dont wanna be sad every time I see him :(

Rip to the only good anime dad u_u one of these days I'll have to watch fmab again. Really a fantastic show

[wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey]

Full Metal Alchemist Netflix!!! (spoilers ahead)

okay so yeah I’m not sure how they are gonna condense FMA into a successful movie and while there are probably going to be a lot of missing people/plotlines I am so psyched I don’t even care that.  I’m just gonna enjoy the good stuff and shrug at the rest.  here goes nothing:

-me, during the opening scene:  *fully expecting the Hogwarts Express to appear any second, with a flying Ford Anglia in its wake*

-this is a very crisply colored film so far and I love it

-MY BBY BOYS!!! HUGGING THEIR MOM!!! *valiantly tries not to cry already*

-yeah no I’m crying already

-dark and gloomy funeral OMG Ed and Al are holding hands to support each other I CAN’T

-LIL ALCHEMISTS AT WORK!

-I’m happy to see that Edward Elric is just as outrageously fashionable as always, that red coat is on POINT

-Ed stop getting your butt kicked and do some alchemy

-oh yeah, Ed proceeds to perform alchemy without a circle and takes out...whatever those alchemy critters are AND THERE IS AL MY SON THE SOUL IN THE SUIT OF ARMOR

-lol Ed seems way more chill than he is in the manga/anime, I mean he hasn’t flipped out about being short yet.  Still he is v. Enthusiastic and Quite Cute

-ED YOU ABSOLUTE dORK

-I CAN’T WITH HIM AND NEITHER CAN POOR AL LOL

-WOOOOOHOOO ROY MUSTANG AND RIZA HAWKEYE IN THE HOUSE

-WHO ARE YOU CALLING PUNY ok there is the Ed we all know and love

-wow the Homunculi look pretty accurate, which means Gluttony is extra ugh

-ok but seriously my favorite thing is how people assume that Al is the full metal alchemist because he is...all metal.  And Al is like no really.  not me

-AWWW my brother may be small but he has a big heart

-So I’m not sure why Winry isn’t a blonde but she is still very cute

-ED IS SO PASSIONATE AND SAD WHEN HE TALKS ABOUT GETTING AL’S BODY BACK :( and when he says he would do anything for Al and the camera focuses on Riza who looks like she could very well be saying I understand I would do anything for Mustang

-MAES HUGHES!!!!  I AM SO HAPPY AND SAD RIGHT NOW.  BECAUSE ED IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AND THEY SMILE AND HUGHES IS A GOOD FRIEND AND dAMN IT I’M GONNA HAVE TO WATCH HIM DIE ALL OVER AGAIN WHAT THE HECK

-Ed is really freaking cute

-Winry scolding Ed about taking care of his metal arm and Ed apologizing I’M EXPLODING WITH HAPPY FLUTTERBYS AND RAINBOWS--AND SO IS MAES HUGHES LOOK AT THE SHIPPER ON DECK GRINNING 

-wHERE IS BBY ELICIA AND WHY HASN’T HUGHES DRIVEN PEOPLE TO DISTRACTION WITH HIS PROUD PAPA ROUTINE??!

-oh she isn’t born yet... :/

-I have never been able to decide which is sadder, Al never being able to sleep and feeling alone or Ed having nightmares about what happened and feeling guilty

-that is a BEAUTIFUL dog and NINA IS SO CUTE AAHHH MY HEART IS GONNA BREAK LATER

-AL PLAYING WITH NINA OH MY HEART

-(tbh some of this plot is getting tangled up in my head, like is that how it went in the anime I don’t remember)

-*cries everytime Nina is onscreen*  AL AND WINRY PLAYING WITH HER *cries harder*

-there’s that Hogwart’s Express again

-Winry:  you were Nina’s favorite

Ed, proudly:  ah little kids like me

Winry:  yeah because you are tiny

THE BETRAYAL

-ED X WINRY OTP THEY ARE THE CUTEST

-I kind of adore the aesthetics of this movie.  I want Winry’s dress

-hey Dr. Marcoh.  Um bye Dr. Marcoh

-NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOOO NINA!!!  WHYYY

-F*** YOU MR. TUCKER

-WHY ARE THERE BIRDS CHIRPING IN THE BACKGROUND THIS SCENE IS A TRAGEDY

-FURIOUS ED IS FURIOUS THERE IS MY HOT-TEMPERED GOOD-HEARTED SON

-AL:  SHUT UP OR I’LL BE THE ONE TO LOSE CONTROL

-play with me?  *cries forever and ever* my heart

-oh come on don’t show me Nina’s ball lying there alone never to be played with again

-tired mussy-haired Ed = the cutest

-MAES HUGHES YOU ARE TOO SWEET *CRIES FOREVER* 

-Oh hi Lieutenant Ross!  (I just realized there are a LOT of people who don’t appear to be in this)

-YOU AND I ARE FRIENDS AAHHH HUGHES AND ROSS WORKING TO HELP ED AND HUGHES WON’T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER AND OH DRAT IT I CAN’T STAND TO SEE WHAT IS GONNA HAPPEN SOON

-ED IS ALL SAD AND UPSET TILL HE SEES THAT AL IS DEPRESSED AND THEN HE TRIES TO CHEER UP HIS LIL BRO, EXCEPT AL WORRIES ALL HIS MEMORIES ARE FALSE AND AND 

“TRUST ME”  

“hOW CAN I TRUST ANYTHING, I’M HOLLOW!!!”

BROTHER FEELS AND ANGST WAIT NO AL OF COURSE ED IS YOUR BROTHER STOP FIGHTING :(  

Al, when Ed is angrily punching him with his human fist: BROTHER USE YOUR RIGHT HAND YOU’LL INJURE YOUR LEFT HAND  *cries* HE STILL CARES ABOUT HIM

THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH (THANKS WINRY)

-”BROTHER IT HURTS”  *SCREAMS INTO THE VOID*  *FLINGS SELF INTO THE SUN

-ED’S HEAD BUMP AGAINST AL’S ARMOR *FLINGS SELF INTO THE SUN aGAIN*

-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MAES HUGHES NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I AM NOT READY FOR THIS NOOOOOO WHYYYYYYYY 

NOT THE PHONEBOOTH

NOT THE PHOTO

NOT--ROY???  (sidenote:  if they’re gonna make it look like Roy did it why even introduce Maria Ross earlier?)

IN CONCLUSION I HATE EVERYTHING

-lies I’m not done yet I can go on I can make it through the rest of the movie

-NVM I CAN’T ED LOOKS SO BROKEN

..................*SIGHS*

-okay not sure where they are going with the story from here on out given them blaming Mustang but I am here for Riza Hawkeye and Ed working together to escape 

-I AM CONFUSED

-ok is that real Roy or fake Roy ok this has to be fake Roy?  Because why would real Roy want it to look like he is killing loyal soldiers?  oh waiit wait WHAAAAAAATT

IT’S FAKE ROSS I GET IT THEY JUST SWITCHED A LOT OF THINGS AROUND

THERE IS A LOT MISSING FROM THE MOVIE

-CAN WE NOT KEEP SHOWING HUGHES’ DEATH OVER AND OVER I FREAKING CANNOT HANDLE THIS WHYYYY I’M CRYING 

-UMMMM GLUTTONY IS FRICKING WEIRD (lol if Emma does her sassy recap I can’t wait to see her reaction to him)

-OKAY BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW LUST SAYS ROY HAS A WEAK SPOT RIGHT AFTER HE STEPS IN FRONT OF RIZA TO PROTECT HER AND GETS INJURED AND WHILE SHE IS SAYING THIS RIZA IS SUPPORTING HIM IN HER ARMS OKAY THANKS

OTP RIGHT THERE MATES OTP

-OH okay Tucker has Al and Winry and I don’t even know what is happening anymore

-THERE IS LITERALLY SO MUCH MISSING FROM THIS.  I CAN’T BLAME THEM BECAUSE HOW DO YOU REALLY MOVIE AN ANIME BUT STILL

-what...what does Tucker want again?

-if Colonel Roy Mustang doesn’t get to destroy Lust like the badass he is then WHAT IS EVEN THE POINT

-*gets distracted from my mutterings because ROYAI*  

-I’m...still not exactly sure is going on like General Hakura what? but ROY IS LEANING ON RIZA FOR SUPPORT AND THAT IS A BEAUTIFUL THING

-FIVE MINUTES LATER AND ROYAI STILL HANGING ON TO EACH OTHER

-OKAY THESE WEIRD GUMMY CREATURES ARE HIGHLY DISTURBING

-WHERE DID ENVY AND GLUTTONY GO?

-I AM V. CONFUSED

-goodbye Hakura you won’t be missed

-ah there is Envy

-actually Gluttony really didn’t need to show up again like ew

-RIZA NOT WANTING TO LEAVE ROY’S SIDE BUT FOLLOWING HIS ORDERS

-okay but why was Al all unconscious before and how did he wake up I missed that

-OH YEAH ALPHONSE PERFORMING ALCHEMY WITHOUT A TRANSMUTATION CIRCLE (look I realize it isn’t a good thing necessarily but it is very cool)

-wait Envy better not be dead just like that because um I really love how everything goes down in the anime

-BUT AT LEAST IT LOOKS LIKE MUSTANG’S GONNA DESTROY LUST

-*SHRIEKING* RIZA WAS GIVING OUT ORDERS LIKE A BADASS BUT HESITATES JUST A SECOND WHEN SHE SEES ROY’S BLOOD ON HER HAND AAAAAAAHHHH THEN SHE GETS BACK TO WORK AAAAAHHHH OTP OTP OTP

-OKAY THIS IS ALL A MESS STORY-WISE BUT I GOTTA FIND THE BRIGHT SPOTS SO ED SAVES ROY AND AL SAVES THEM BOTH AND ROY THROWING LUST’S WORDS BACK AT HER, PRETTY RAD

-AL PROTECTING THE OTHERS WITH HIS ARMOR BODY

-wait Gluttony is still alive...”Lust is dead” apparently he’s not too cut up about Envy though

-ALPHONSE!!!  MY HEART :(  POOR ED :(  AL YOU SWEETHEART “IF IT’S AT THE PRICE OF A LIFE, I’D RATHER STAY LIKE THIS”

-I’M SORRY I’M CRYING OVER HERE CRYING OVER ED TELLING AL HIS BODY HAS GROWN AND AL IS TALLER THAN ED AND LOOK THE BROTP IN THE ANIME IS MY FAVE THING EVER AND IT WAS NOT AS PRESENT IN THE MOVIE AS I WANTED BUT THE MOMENTS WHERE IT IS REALLY GET ME

-ROYAI ROYAI JUST HUG HIM GIRL OH GOSH THE LOOK BETWEEN THE TWO

-”get promoted and expose the truth behind the mystery” look is the Fuhrer a thing, like Greed never showed up, if they are doing a sequel they have stuff to work with but it so far off the original storyline at this point

-ED AND AL AND WINRY ARE THE CUTEST

-BYE BYE HOGWART’S EXPRESS

(BTW IF WE ARE DIVERTING FROM CANON WHY COULDN’T WE GET TO ACTUALLY SEE A ROYAI WEDDING?? ?)

[tenevaya]

@hcartlcss​:  12. Have you roleplayed anywhere other than tumblr? 13. Who are five of your favorite characters? (In the rp community or otherwise)

Questions for Mun | Currently accepting.

I started RPing on forums way back in 2007-8. I think I also used Skype for RPing as well, but mostly forums. I didn’t start RPing on tumblr until around February 2012. Outside of that, I do tabletop RPs with local friends, and have since about 2014. Discord is also where I can be found RPing, especially compared to Skype, which I used to use. 

As for five of my favorite characters, I’ll go with my current favorites:

1. Aerith Gainsborough (FFVII) 2. Ahsoka Tano (Star Wars) 3. Link (Legend of Zelda) 4. Roy Mustang (FMA/FMAB) 5. Zexion (Kingdom Hearts)

[greenygreenland]

What I'd Do For You:

-imagine Roy as your adoptive father

-he'd be so flawed but he'd try his hardest

-I write for females because that's what I'm most comfortable with, but it's not too prominent (please don't be offended! It's only what I'm comfortable with!)

Summary: You're feeling down. Roy's here to help.

Today was nothing short of a bad day. It poured as soon as you stepped out of the house, and before you could grab your umbrella, you realised you were going to be late. Not long after, you ran straight into Ed and Al, who both ignored you in favour of chasing some guy down the street.

Whatever, you told yourself. Not like I needed a 'hi' from my best friends anyway.

Not long after, a car zoomed by and splashed muddy water at you. If it weren't for the rain, you'd be caked in the stuff. As you continued down the street, some guy thought it would be fun to mug you. Of course, when he found out you were a state alchemist, he made a run for it. But that didn't make you feel better, not when there were people staring at you like you were a nuisance.

What did you ever do to them anyway? Maybe it was just the fact today was a terrible Monday afternoon.

When you got to Roy's office, your clothes were sopping wet, your hair a matted mess, and your heart, very much hardened and cold. You softly closed the door behind you. There was no point in slamming it when you didn't have the energy to be angry in the first place.

"(Y/n)?" Roy stared at you incredulously. "What happened to you?" You pointed to the window.. The pouring rain and gray clouds were enough of an answer. "Everything happened, that's what." He raised a brow with a short sigh. "'Everything' is quite vague, don't you think?" He stood and made his way to a cabinet. From seemingly nowhere, he found a towel and threw it at you.

"Thanks Roy." You ran it through your hair and placed it on the couch to sit on. It was just as wet as your clothes, but it wasn't like anyone had a blow dryer on hand. Roy took a seat across from you on the opposing couch. "Care to tell me what happened today?"

You thought back to the Elric brothers, then the mugging and everything else you had to go through today. Roy listened intently. "Why did you leave the house so late?" he inquired. "You could have been here at eight o'clock sharp if you hadn't been up all night reading. Then you could have avoided that mugger, the rain, and everything in between." You huffed. "So what? Changing one thing wouldn’t change the day. And besides, it was a good book. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Put it down." Roy plainly offered. "Save that 'last page' for tomorrow, or better yet, sleep before three in the morning." You didn't like the way he was looking at you, as if he were deciding on whether he should be disappointed, frustrated, or annoyed with you. But bad habits died hard. It wasn't easy to break out of those cycles.

You leaned back into the couch. Defeat crossed your eyes, and that was when Roy realized how tired you looked. It wasn't because of your constant travels, or the fact that Edward and Alphonse ignored you completely (he'd give them a piece of his mind later on), but because you were burnt out.

And maybe feeling a bit down.

"You've been studying a lot." Roy stated. You didn't need him to point out the obvious. It was no secret you were doing your best to help the Elric brothers on their journey towards finding their bodies. "Have you found anything useful?" You shook your head with a tight frown. There was so much you needed to work out, so many variables that didn't add up, and so many frauds you needed to uncover.

"Whenever we're close," you mumbled, "our goal keeps getting farther away. Sometimes I feel so useless while Ed and Al go off on their own accord. I just...I don't know." Your shoulders slumped and Roy's heart began to ache. "It's so hard, and I'm really..." A sigh escaped your lips.

"Tired?" Roy finished. He knew that look well, the one where your eyes darkened with clouds and you looked like you wanted to scream when you couldn't. Long ago, he had the same look. Silently, he swore he'd never do it again. At least, not when you were around.

Seeing that same look on your face made him sick to the stomach. "Take a day off," he started. "The Lieutenant is here so don't worry. As for the Elric brothers, I don't think they'll need your help now. They’re fine as is if you ask me." Roy winced at his words. He didn't mean to make it sound like you were unwanted. In fact, he wouldn't do that even if he was paid.

"Maybe I'm not needed by them anymore.” you concluded. “They're busy anyway, so they won't miss me. It’s been weeks since we last talked actually. And besides, Ed’s really great at everything he does. Same with Al. They’re skilled, smart, everything I’m not." You smiled and it was a bit watery.

Roy's lips parted. No, no, no, that wasn't what he meant. The urge to punch himself in the face was overwhelming. Why was he so bad at wording things?

You stood and folded the wet towel. "I'll take the day off. I'm not sure what I'll do though."

"Wait--"

"If you need me, I'll be around the block somewhere." You looked like you were about to cry, and all Roy could do was watch. He wanted to say something, but what if he made it worse? Saying 'Don't cry!' wasn't exactly comforting, and by the looks of it, you weren't in the mood to talk anything through.

A forced smile made its way to your lips. "I'll be back later Roy."

And just like that, you were gone. The door closed shut with a small click, leaving Roy alone in the quiet office. He stared at the phone on his desk tensely. Hughes was good with people, and he knew how to talk to (Y/n) better than most. If Roy called then maybe...

No. Why should he have to rely on Maes? This was (Y/n). He could deal with his daughter just fine. "Teenagers." He found himself making his way to the phone "Why are they so hard to understand?” The familiar beeping sounded on the other end as he dialed the number.

“Hello, could you connect me to Maes Hughes?”

-----

The lone bench you took refuge on was lonely. But you were fine with that. Here, no one could see you through all the pouring rain and darkened clouds. As your tears mixed in with the cold droplets, you stared into the far off distance. The trees swayed in the occasional breeze and you shivered.

Maybe you should have brought a coat.

Suddenly, the rain stopped pounding against your head. Your dampened hair had rivers flowing down it, and the tears that quietly came to a stop left your cheeks with stains.

“So this is where you’ve been,” a voice calmly said. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Why, after an hour, did he come looking for you in the rain? It wasn’t like it mattered. Roy settled by your side, the umbrella hovering above. “Here,” he handed you your coat, “you’re shivering.”

You pushed the coat away with a shake of your head. “I don’t need it.” There was a crack in your voice you covered with a cough. If Roy noticed or not, he didn’t show it. Instead, he helped you put on the coat. “It would be inconvenient if you were sick,” he decided. “How are you supposed to help the Elrics with a cold?”

That didn’t matter. The Elrics were busy for all you cared, and it wasn’t like they needed you anyway. “I’m dead weight, dad.” The words made your eyes sting again. “They don’t-t-they don’t need me.”

“And why is that?” Roy’s gentle tone made the tears fall fast. “Because, dad, I’m useless. Edward’s so much better at everything. He--he’s always saving the day and figuring out all of this country’s problem’s. And...and when I try to help, I always mess it up.”

You thought back to earlier today, where you bumped into the boys spontaneously. They might’ve been busy, but they blatantly ignored you. And the fact that they hadn’t called all week made you worry. Had you done something wrong? No, maybe they didn’t care for you anymore because you were so useless.

“I...I don’t know what to do.” With the umbrella over your head, Roy saw every tear as clear as day. He watched your shoulders tense and your fists clench into tight fists. You were trying to stop crying, but the tears kept coming and coming like a river.

How useless of you.

“Come here.” You didn't want Roy to see your face. “Come here,” he repeated. You hesitantly scooted closer to him on the soaking bench. He held the umbrella in his left hand and pulled you close with his other. When was the last time he actually hugged you like this? He couldn’t remember, and that made him feel guilty.

Was it his fault that you thought so lowly of yourself? Maybe he should have been more adamant on showing how proud he was of your accomplishments. Becoming a State Alchemist at this age was more than a simple privilege. It was a precedent that no generation had ever seen in their lives.

“Why do you compare yourself to Fullmetal?” he inquired, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “He’s not you.”

“But he’s better than me and I can’t measure up to him.” Roy shook his head dismissively. For a moment, you wondered you disappointed him. “It doesn’t matter what Fullmetal is, (Y/n). He’s strong, I admit, but the most hot-headed kid I’ve ever met. Unlike him out, you never let emotions blind your choices. That’s something Fullmetal can’t do. As for strength, you don’t need that.”

He smiled a little and it was so warm. It wasn’t everyday you got to see this side of Roy. He was always caught up in paperwork, plans, and looking after what he worked so hard to accomplish. “You have enough wits to outsmart me. Remember that time Fullmetal challenged me to a match?”

You nodded. “I joined because I didn’t think he could handle it. Ed didn’t want my help, but I ended up coming along anyway.” A smug smirk made its way up Roy’s lips. “And who lasted the longest?”

“Me.”

“And why was that?”

"Because I read your attack patterns?" You uncertainly replied. Roy frowned. "Say it like you mean it."

"Because I read your attack patterns." you repeated. An approving look made its way up your dad's face. "Exactly. Fullmetal has wit, but you are a much more terrifying opponent." You sniffled with a huff. "I'm not--I'm not even close to your level."

"You don't have to be." Roy turned his gaze to the pouring rain, as if he were thinking about how useless his alchemy would be. "If you believed in yourself more, then you will advance farther than you've already come."

That wasn't true. How could you believe in yourself when you felt like an absolute failure? It didn't matter how many successes you've had in the past, because what if they were all flukes? Some day, your luck would run out. Then you'd let your dad down, along with Ed and Al and Hawkeye and Uncle Maes and everyone else you knew.

"You're not a failure, if that's what you're thinking." Roy blurted out. "I couldn't be more proud of how far you've come. The day I met you, I thought I'd fail you. Look where we are now." He laughed a little and it made you relax in his hold. "If you were a failure, you wouldn't have become a reowned State Alchemist. You wouldn't have survived in the most dire times either, and you wouldn't have made me so proud of you."

Your eyes widened. Had you heard him right? You had to be hearing things. Roy met your gaze and smiled warmly. "Yes, I'm proud of you. Why wouldn't I be?" For a moment, you remained still. The gears in your head churned like clockwork, dissecting and rewinding the words Roy had spoken. You tentatively wrapped your arms around Roy's middle.

Yes, I'm proud of you.

You buried your head into his shoulder.

Why wouldn't I be?

And then you cried. Today was nothing short of a bad day, but if you hadn't forgotten your umbrella, gotten ignored by the Elrics, nearly mugged, or showed up late, then you wouldn't have been able to hear those words and the silent I love you's.

IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLEASE REBLOG (IT HELPS ME OUT SOOOO MUCH AS A WRITER!)

[pikachu78109]

Hey hun, I absolutely adore your Galar headcanons and was wondering if I could request what kind of parents the gym leaders would be? Please and thank you!💖

Aw, tysm!

Milo

-BEST PARENT! HANDS DOWN!

-One of those parents their kid can talk to easily.

-Hardly gets angry, but can harden his voice to show kids that he’s serious.

-The kind of parent who teaches their kids how to farm at a young age.

-Great with cooking healthy meals for their kids to eat.

-Bedtime routine would consist of warm tea, a bedtime story, and hug and goodnight kiss.

-Knows how to calm their kid down if they are crying or are upset. Wooloo therapy helps.

Nessa

-Treats their kid as if they are their best friend.

-But still mothers them really well.

-Best swim instructor, will teach their child how to swim.

-Child will have a seafood based diet; Nessa can cook some good seafood dishes.

-Can be stern, but never to the degree where she is restrictive or over protective.

-Does their child’s hair every morning!

-Bedtime routine would be taking a bath every night, maybe a bed time story or two.

Allister

-When he is much older, Allister as a parent will be a huge adjustment.

-Becomes a bit too over protective.

-But, over time, begins to trust their child and starts to back off.

-Dessert almost every night after dinner.

-Bedtime stories would mostly be scary stories (lol, sorry kids!)

-Will remove mask to give their child a good night kiss!

Bea

-When she is older, Bea will be a tough momma!

-Very strict, but not too strict.

-Enrolls child to take up martial arts, just like her.

-Bea pushes for more time outside than inside. No slacking off allowed!

-Will show comforting side. Bea becomes soft and nurturing.

-If anyone bullies her child, Bea will unleash her fury!

-Not much for physical affection, but will hug her child and give a kiss now and then.

Bede

-When he’s much older, Bede becomes a pretty good parent.

-Protective at first, but backs off when their child shows they can handle themselves.

-Doesn’t spoil their child. Wants them to earn their efforts.

-Values their time they have with their child.

-Instills good morals and values when they are young; Bede is a responsible parent.

-Will show affection on many occasions!

Piers

-Since he’s a good brother, then he’ll be a good dad!

-At first, Piers doesn’t know if he can do it, but over time learns that he’s doing okay.

-Get their child involved in music. Piers shares many of their favorite albums (even a few of his songs) with his child.

-Encourages them to follow their passions.

-Doesn’t hold their child back. Piers trusts them completely.

-Not one for hugging or kissing, but Piers loves his kid, so he will hug and kiss them if they ever need one!

Melony

-Being a mother already, Melony has this whole parenting thing under control.

-Knows what to expect and knows when to react.

-Gets her child into Pokémon battling early; shows them the beauty of Ice types during this.

-Takes zero bullsh*t; she’s disciplines her child by grounding them.

-A great cook! Always cooks warm meals for her child!

-Very affectionate! Hugs and kisses every day!

Gordie

-Will have trouble parenting at first, but his mom will give him a few pointers here and there.

-Like with Melony, Gordie gets his child into battling early.

-Would usually go on walks outside of Circhester with his child and go Pokémon Camping.

-Regular visits to Melony.

-Will hug and kiss his child every day!

Raihan

-As a selfie person, Raihan has so many selfies of him and his kid!

-Basically becomes Maes Hughes once he’s a dad. “LOOK AT MY ADORABLE KID!”

-Hugs and kisses daily!

-Raises their child around Dragon type Pokémon.

-Not as strict, but does set some boundaries.

-Practically a best friend toward their child, but also a best dad too!

[shanastoryteller]

in another life

(written as a thank you for @another-annon)

~

Two brothers seperated from the rest, a country limping along, a plaything with a missing eye and a broken heart.

This isn’t fun at all. Truth wants to have fun.

It looks down at the world its created, at he destruction and chaos and pain. It’s not as satisfying as he hoped it’d be.

“Again,” it says, giving a lipless grin as its voice send out echoes, waiting.

Ripples shift and bend, pushing time back to the start.

~

Roy wakes up crying. That’s not too unusual, so he runs his hands over his face to wipe the tears out of his eyes.

Wait.

His eyes.

He stumbles to his feet, nearly tripping over his feet as he runs to the bathroom. It takes him a moment, staring at confusion at a bare living room, before he realizes his bathroom has moved. What the fuck. He trips in, flicking on the light.

He has two eyes. And he’s young, so painfully young. Is he even drinking age?  He sure hopes so, because he really feels like he needs a drink. He runs his hand over his smooth chin, and well, okay, maybe not.

“Roooooooy!” sing songs a familiar voice, and oh no, he really is in the past somewhere. “Wake up, it’s time for breakfast!”

Vanessa as an adult is terrifying. As a teenager, she’s what nightmares are made of.

He scrambles for a pen and paper, throws some clothes in a backpack, and leaves a note for his mother.

Madame, have to go off and save the world. Will be back. Love you.

~

The first thing he has to do is find Maes, obviously. It’s a bit of a problem that they don’t know each other yet, but he has a solution for that.

He waits until he’s walking home from school, grabs him by the back of his shirt, pulls him into an alley, and shoves him against the brick wall. “I don’t have any money!” Maes says, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Check my pockets, I don’t have anything, really.”

“I’m not dumb, I know you. The second I loosen my grip you’ll have a knife at my throat.” Maes wasn’t so much borne of war as born ready for it. He loses his scared facade and raises an eyebrow. “I know you think about cutting out your father’s throat every time he raises his hand to your mother, that you cheat on all your math tests, that you have a crush on John in your chemistry class, and that you tear pictures of places you’d like to visit out of magazines and keep them tucked in the back of your closet.”

Maes’s curious look has morphed into a fascinated kind of horror. “Who are you? How do you know that?”

“I’m your best friend,” Roy tells him, “and I need your help to stop a war before it starts.”

~

Maes can’t resist that, so he goes with him. Roy knows how to make money on the road, even as a not quite eighteen year old, and he’s incredibly pleased to teach Maes how to hustle pool instead of the other way around. He’s still better than Roy at poker, even with a decade’s less experience, and that only stings a little.

Eventually, they make their way to General Grumman.

Roy’s not stupid enough to think they can do this on their own. So he gets a little help.

~

Things move fast after that, because they have to. Stopping a war is no easy task. There’s hunting down the homonculi, finding and killing Dante, finding that damn Ishvalan and Izumi Curtis and telling them exactly what will happen if they attempt human transmutation.

It’s too early to go after the Elrics. But this time, he won’t be too late.

He’s twenty years old and high off his success, off the war that isn’t happening and all the lives they’ve managed to save. Maes is laughing as he tugs him close and slots their mouths together.

For a moment, Roy freezes. He thinks of Gracis and Elysia, thinks of Edward. Thinks of the love that beats beneath his breastbone for his younger lover, for the fire in Ed’s eyes that he wouldn’t be able to tame even if he wanted to.

Then that moment breaks and he’s surging forward, licking into Maes’s mouth and biting at his lip.

That life is gone. That world is gone. This is the one he has, and he’s not going to waste it.

~

It doesn’t work the same for the others.

Ed and Winry are four and Al is three when they all start getting nightmares about horrors that none of their parents can explain.

Then one day they all wake up, and all the nightmares make sense, and they remember everything.

The first thing Ed and Al do is go to their father’s office. “Hello boys,” he says, and with older eyes Ed can see the way his lips tip up at the corners, the way he softens when he sees them, all these things he hadn’t noticed when he was actually a child.

They both silently crawl into his lap and they each grab a pen. He laughs, leaning back in the chair and letting them scrawl over his notebook.

They know the exact moment he realizes what they’re drawing. He tenses and sucks in a deep breath. “How-”

“If you leave, Momma gets sick and dies. This is the circle we used to try and bring her back,” Ed says, tapping the left page.

“We know more than we did before,” Al says, and points at the circle on the right page. “This is the one we’ll use to bring her back if you leave us again.”

They wouldn’t, even if it might work, they learned their lesson the first time. But their dad doesn’t need to know that.

~

Hohenheim doesn’t leave, and they don’t tell Trisha what they are, how they’re her sons but not the innocent little boys she thought they were. When she gets a cough and starts feeling dizzy, Hohenheim is there. He uses the philosopher’s stone to heal her, and Ed and Al can finally breathe easy.

Winry’s problems aren’t so easy to fix. Her nightmares don’t stop.

She loves her parents, and she knows their dedication to their duty, to their work. She knows it because she’s just the same, she’s a doctor that’s walked into more than one warzone with her head held high. Even if she tells them everything, tells them that they’ll die in that war - she doesn’t think it will change anything at all.

They went to war knowing that they could die, but believing their work was more important than their lives.

The part of her that’s their daughter wants to hold them close and never let them go.

The part of her that’s a doctor knows where they’re going is where they need to be, even if it kills them.

So she waits, and wonders, as time marches on.

There’s no war.

One day Ed and Al crawl into her window and Al says, “Grumman is the Fuhrer here!”

“Huh,” she says, something dangerously like hope in her chest.

Time passes, and there’s no war to take her parents away from her.

~

Ling doesn’t get any warnings, like dreams, and he doesn’t even get a nice smooth transition between sleeping and awake.

He’s walking down the hall of the palace, ignoring his mother’s lecture on why he needs to focus on his studies, when he trips, flips before he can fall, then says, “Motherfucker.”

“Ling!” his mother exclaims, “When did you learn how to curse in Amestrian? What are those tutors teaching you, honestly!”

“Sorry,” he says, mind racing.

He’s not the emperor here. He’s not immortal here.

Does he still want to be?

The immortal bit he can take or leave, but the emperor part? Oh, yeah, that he wants.

~

Roy considers joining the military again. He knows it. He’s good at it.

But in this world, he doesn’t have any sins to suffer for.

“I think I want to be a professor,” he says, head on Maes’s chest. “I can be your army wife.”

Maes laughs and leans down to kiss his forehead. “Whatever you want, darling.”

~

Ed and Al don’t join the military. Instead they do what they forbade their father to do.

They go traveling.

“Xing?” Ed asks, grinning, “Or Drachma?”

“Xing,” Al says firmly. “At least there I know the language.”

“Well, I don’t know either language,” Winry says, tossing an arm around each of their shoulders. “But I never did get my hands on the Xingese alloys.”

They’re in a middle of nowhere town in Xing when a familiar grinning face swings through their window. “Hello,” Ling says. “I’m making a bid for the throne. Want to help?”

And they don’t understand how Ling knows or remembers, but it doesn’t matter, he’s their friend, and well, their lives have been a little boring.

Of course they help.

“Don’t go,” Ling says when it’s all over, his hand tangled in Ed’s, dark eyes imploring. “Stay here. With me.”

“I,” Ed starts, heart in his throat.

Ling was his first in both worlds, and here, where they’re a little less broken, they fit in way they hadn’t before. But –

“Your general is probably out there, somewhere,” he acknowledges, because he knows Ed, knows what he’s thinking without him having to say it. “You could probably seduce him, if that’s what you want.”

He could, is the thing. But is it? He loved Roy almost more than anything in his old life, more than anyone besides Al maybe, but – the person Ed was, and the person Roy was –

Those people don’t exist anymore.

“Yeah,” he says, “but you’re here.”

It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement, but Ling knows him, so he beams, pulling him close for the kind of kiss that’ll leave the servants whispering around them for weeks.

~

Years later, Ed is in Amestris at a stuffy military function, forced to attend as the Prince Consort of Xing, which is the most annoying title he’s ever held.

“Fuhrer Hughes,” Ling says diplomatically, his hand on the small of Ed’s back.

“Emperor Ling,” Maes returns, and Ed never got to see him this age before, and it warms him to see the wrinkles in the edges of his eyes. “I of course know of your companion. My husband is a huge fan of your work, Prince Edward.”

“Is he?” Ed asks, finally bringing himself to meet Roy’s dark eyes. He looks good. He always looks good, but now he looks better, two eyes and looking younger now than when Ed met him the first time, without all that regret weighing him down. “I’ve read a few of his as well. Mr. Mustang, your strides in flame alchemy are well documented.”

“Thank you, but truly, you and your brother’s grasp of biological alchemy is unparalleled,” he says, perfectly polite.

~

Roy and Edward sneak glances at each other all night, and they both can’t help but think –

- in another life, perhaps.

[girlactionfigure]

They have names. They were attending church that Sunday. One of the girls was Carol Denise McNair (pictured here). She was born in Birmingham, Alabama in 1951. She was 11-years-old when she and four other young girls went into the basement of the 16th Street Baptist Church on September 15, 1963 to prepare for a sermon, entitled "The Love That Forgives." Denise McNair and the three other girls, Addie Mae Collins, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Wesley would die in the church after a bomb planted by the KKK exploded in the church. The sole survivor of that group was Sarah Collins Rudolph, then 12, the sister of Addie Mae Collins. She remembers, "Denise walked over to Addie and said, ‘Addie, would you tie my sash?’. We all was sitting there watching her [get ready to] tie her sash and all of a sudden I heard this sound. Boom!” Her sister, Addie Mae Collins, 14, and friends, Denise McNair, 11, Carole Rosamond Roberts, 14, and Cynthia Wesley, 14, all had lost their lives in the bombing. Collins Rudolph later was rescued from the rubbish of the bombing with the loss of sight in her left eye. "Tomorrow marks 56 years since the murder of four young girls at the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama," according to the Southern Poverty Law Center. "During his eulogy for McNair, Robertson, Wesley and Collins, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. called the attack 'one of the most vicious and tragic crimes ever perpetuated against humanity,' according to the Southern Poverty Law Center. Some white political leaders before the bombing had encouraged violent acts toward African Americans. Dr. King had sent a telegram to then-Alabama Gov. George Wallace, telling the state’s top segregationist: “The blood of our little children is on your hands.” Ten days before the bombing, Wallace had railed against the civil rights movement to The New York Times, saying, “What this country needs is a few first-class funerals.” President John F. Kennedy would say, "If these cruel and tragic events can only awaken that city and state - if they can only awaken this entire nation to a realization of the folly of racial injustice and hatred and violence, then it is not too late for all concerned to unite in steps toward peaceful progress before more lives are lost." The perpetrators of the bombing at the time received a $100 fine and a suspended 180-day jail sentence. Charles Morgan, Jr., a young, white Alabama lawyer, would deliver a passionate and powerful speech, asking, "Who did it? Who threw that bomb?" and answer "We all did it . . . Every last one of us is condemned for that crime and the bombing before it and a decade ago. We all did it. "The 'who' is every little individual who talks about the 'nig**rs' and spreads the seeds of his hate to his neighbor and his son. The jokester, the crude oaf whose racial jokes rock the party with laughter. The 'who' is every governor who ever shouted for lawlessness and became a law violator. It is every senator and every representative who in the halls of Congress stands and with mock humility tells the world that things back home aren't really like they are. It is courts that move ever so slowly, and newspapers that timorously defend the law." Dr. King would say, “[T]his afternoon, in a real sense [the four girls] have something to say to each of us in their death. They have something to say to every minister of the gospel who has remained silent behind the safe security of stained-glass windows. “They have something to say to every politician who has fed his constituents with the stale bread of hatred and the spoiled meat of racism. … They say to each of us, black and white alike, that we must substitute courage for caution. They say to us that we must be concerned not merely about who murdered them, but about the system, the way of life, the philosophy which produced the murderers.” In a story by the Washington Post, Denise McNair's parents shared that Denise had "a comfortable, enriching life, with a piano and dance lessons." Addie liked to play hopscotch and was often the peacemaker for arguments among her seven brothers and sisters. Cynthia did really well in reading and math, was constantly laughing and "just full of fun all the time." Carole was involved in Jack and Jill of America, the Girl Scouts, the marching band, the choir and the science club. If Denise had lived, her sisters say, she "would have been awesome." Before the bombing, Denise had organized fundraisers to fight muscular dystrophy and would get the other neighborhood children together to read poetry. Her sister said she remembers stories of Denise standing up for others, and says, she would have been "a doctor or lawyer or politician." Denise, however, did not understand the hate she would sometimes face. Her parents tried to teach her that not all whites were racist but could not spare their child the indignities of Jim Crow segregation. "Denise cried . . . when Mr. McNair took her to a five-and-dime store and was forced to explain why she could not sit at the counter for a hot dog," according to the Washington Post. “Remember, baby, what we told you about those few mean white people?” her father told her. “Well, those few people don’t want you to buy a hot dog in a five-and-ten-cent store in Birmingham, Alabama.” For months after his daughter’s death, her father said, he did not cry. “I was angry,” he later told the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. “But I had a sense of balance. People were asking me, ‘Why don’t you leave?’ I said, ‘Where else can I go and not still be black in the United States?’ My intent was to try to make this a better section of the world.” Rudolph, who has been speaking out, said recently about the bombing she survived, “We shouldn’t think of doing people like that. You don’t know them, and you want to do harm to them? It’s time for this whole nation to really love each other and stop all the killing.” Rudolph said the biggest lesson she learned from her traumatic experience was to love. “That was the name of the sermon,” she said. “That’s what they were talking about that Sunday," she said in an article from The Press of Atlantic City, June 2019. Today, a memorial named “Four Spirits” stands across the street from the church with the inscription “A love that forgives” – the title of the pastor’s undelivered sermon on Sept. 15, 1963. Langston Hughes would also write: “Four little girls Who went to Sunday School that day And never came back home at all– But left instead Their blood upon the wall… …Might be awakened someday soon By songs upon the breeze As yet unfelt among Magnolia trees.”

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

[teaboot]

Stuff I wanna change in the original Avengers group:

CHARACTER ARCS:

Bruce: I don't know if I'd change anything, I'm too confused

Clint: Less 'stone-faced serious agent man' Clint, More doofy, tired, living-off-coffee-and-dog-cop-reruns Clint.The whole 'I have a family and I've been keeping it a secret to protect them' gets outed to the team a way earlier in the series so it doesn't feel like slapping a band-aid over a gaping hole. After he knows the team would protect his wife and kids with their lives, he's less closed-off and more of a 'god, I'm so proud of my beautiful family' kind of guy. Cross FMA Maes Hughes with Ant-Man's Scott Lang, then dial it back to 'teenager who just got out of bed' levels of enthusiasm for supervillain nonsense. Have him use ASL with Nat during stealth missions, or behind people's backs to talk shit. Or, fuck, just At All, Ever. Have him wearing his hearing aids from the get-go, and don't just use it for expositionary angst points. More buddy-buddy shit with Nat.

Natasha: Again, more stuff with Clint to show how deep their relationship goes. Love that partner-in-crime sibling vibe, more of that in casual scenes. Her whole thing is that she's been raised to be cold and unfeeling with high walls- Put her in more positions that force her to relax her defenses and be vulnerable. Interactions with scared civilians, children, teammates in stress, etc. That gradual build from 'I'm here on orders and I will kill you if I have to' to 'nobody owns me, I am my own person, I don't have to be on constant alert, I trust these people' is character development gold and it hurts that we didn't get to see that.

Steve: Steve was a tiny sickly guy with too much sass, self-righteousness and moxie, and then he got taller and sadder. Honestly, the way he was set from the beginning I can't think of a way to make him happier or better-adjusted to his circumstances, but perhaps just flat-out retirement from the hero gig along with Bucky might have helped. Steve grew up with war stories, survived the depression, and then flung himself headfirst into his own war, grew a whole new body, lost everything, then woke up in a time of relative peace. I'd be really interested to see what he would have done without SHEILD interference- who is he, if not a fighter? Does he really enjoy making art? What else is he food at? What does he want out of life? Who would he have been, if not for the war? A mechanic? A teacher?Just some time away from the madness to sort himself out, make connections, and enjoy the company of friends would have done him some good, I think, and might have added a little extra weight to his character. Just some real emotional depth. Give him a chance to mourn properly.

Thor: Excellent arc. Love it. We owe Taika Waititi so much. Original 2 movies and Episode 1 thor were all on a collision-course to being an irreparably unrelateable fuckwit and I'm so glad we got to see the humor, the arrogance, the insecurity, love, kindness, and hope in his character. Final appearance could have been played off as less 'look at this drunken goofball, he's fat now haha' and more, 'this man has lost his entire family in a handful of years and is struggling with stress and addiction, let's help him get back in his feet because he's a beloved team member', so. Also, more interactions with regular-day earth. He knows the name if every barista at the nearest Starbucks. He's addicted to caffeine. He loves video games. I would kneecap a producer to see 1 (one) casual round of Mario cart with Clint. One

Tony: A glorious arc. Despite reviews, I feel his internal journey through mental illness in episode 3 was an important one. Just... ignoring the plot. And the whole Bruce-not-listening thing. That was....Displeasing .

ESSENTIALLY: Found Family opportunity wasted, I'm going to write fan fiction and cry.

[scentedbygunpowder]

Moms Made Fullmetal Week, 2019 Day 2: Birth/Death/Everything Changes Word Count: 2,241 Author: Katie/Ally (scentedbygunpowder) Rating: PG Characters: Gracia Hughes. Minor/Mentions: Elysia Hughes, Maes Hughes, Alex Armstrong, Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye, The Elric Brothers Summary: Birth, death, changes in life, Gracia has been through them all, and she knows the pain that they bring with them. But just because something is painful doesn’t mean it’s bad, and it doesn’t mean that you can’t keep going. She will always push forward for the sake of her daughter.

~*~

Birth/Death/Everything Changes

Life was such a precious thing. It was such a wonderfully, beautifully, precious thing. It started through pain, but then again Gracia wasn’t sure of anything worthwhile that didn’t involve some pain when it came time to achieve it. The same was true of life. She held onto Maes’s hand, gripping it hard as she bore down and pushed, a yell working its way out of her. Maes didn’t complain once, just kept saying encouraging things to her, such as telling her how beautiful she was, how strong, how wonderful, how perfect. Even when she threatened him within an inch of his life, he didn’t stop encouraging her.

Her labor had been long and hard, her water breaking early that morning and it being well into the night by now. Her contractions had been intense and the pain was more then she had imagined it would be. She was certain that she would not want anything touching her for a good long while, and if Maes even thought about—well. It wasn’t happening for a long time. She would need to heal and feel like everything was back like it was supposed to be.

“We’re almost there, Mrs. Hughes. Your baby is crowning. Just a little more. Big pushes for the head and shoulders, come on now you can do this! Push!”

Gracia let out another yell as she did what the doctor said, hearing Maes encourage her as she did. She felt something almost pop in a way, like a partial relief of pressure, but the doctor was encouraging her to push again, and she did, feeling something else come loose, and then something else, and then, finally, the pressure was gone and she was collapsing back into the bed from where she had arched up, breathing hard.

“Gracia…” Maes breathed out, his eyes glued not on her anymore but on what the doctor was holding.

“Congratulations,” the doctor said with a smile. “You have a daughter. Would you like to come cut the cord, Dad?”

Maes squeezed her hand before he practically scampered over there, glee and love in his eyes as he did this first act for their daughter. Gracia watched for a moment, watched as the nurses took their baby to get cleaned up, and Maes followed. She grimaced as the beginnings of afterbirth hit her, and the doctor prepared for that, but she didn’t fault Maes for staying with their daughter. After all, he hadn’t been able to feel her like she had. She’d let him have this moment.

The afterbirth, mercifully, didn’t take long and the nurses were quick to have her cleaned up and settled as comfortably as she was going to get at the moment. Maes came over with their daughter, a new love shinning in his eyes brighter than anything she had ever seen before, even for her. Gracia smiled. That was exactly how she wanted it.

“Gracia, look,” his voice was hushed as he stared down at the baby in the mass of pink blanket. “Look how perfect she is.”

Gracia held out her arms, he passed their baby to her, and she held their daughter in her arms for the first time. The connection was instantaneous. Her little fuzz of hair, her big, sleepy looking eyes, her upturned noise, pursed lips, perfect little fingers and toes—she was perfect, and Gracia knew instantly that she would do anything she could to protect and care for her daughter.

“Welcome to the world,” she said softly, her voice shaking, and the little ones eyes moved towards her, as if recognizing her voice. “Maes, she’s perfect.”

“She sure is,” he said, sitting on the edge of her bed and managing to get an arm around her. “Our little girl. Our little Elysia.”

“We’ll give her everything,” Gracia said.

“Everything,” Maes agreed.

“We’ll keep her safe and happy and she’ll be so loved.” Gracia continued.

“She’ll be loved by everyone,” Maes said.

“Our precious little daughter.”

Maes leaned over and kissed Gracia on the head as Elysia yawned and their world narrowed down to the three of them. ���We’ll give her the world.”

And Gracia knew he was right. They would both love her and protect her. They would make sure she grew up happy and healthy and with her parents standing strong beside her.

~*~

Life was such a precious thing. It was such a wonderfully, beautifully, precious thing. It started through pain, and it ended through pain. Gracia wasn’t sure of anything worthwhile that didn’t involve some pain. The same was true of life. When you loved, when you cared, you risked pain. She held onto Elysia’s hand, gripping it firmly as she tried not to break down and pushed a yell that wanted to work its way out of her down. Elysia didn’t complain about how hard Gracia was holding her hand, but she was confused and Gracia didn’t know how to explain it to the little girl. A part of her had hoped that she would remain quiet throughout the service, but Elysia had never been one to be quiet, or to keep her questions to herself.

She was so much like Maes in that.

Finally Gracia couldn’t hold it in anymore, and she bent to hold her daughter, using that to cover the way she wanted to collapse. Elysia was crying for her father, and Gracia was crying for both of them and herself. The little girl finally buried herself in her mother’s hold, and Gracia held her tightly as the three-year-old sobbed for her father, for the father she loved so dearly, her playmate, her best friend. She was still crying when they left the gravesite, Major Armstrong being kind enough to insist on driving them home. Elysia finally fell asleep on the way home, having cried herself to sleep in her mother’s arms. The Major stayed only long enough to make Gracia a cup of tea, and to make sure that she was alright. Gracia thanked him with a smile, and saw him out. Only then, finally alone, did she break down as she had been wanting to do all day.

Maes. Maes. The love of her life. He was gone. And all she had to comfort her were her tears that now flowed down her face, and the sobs that forced themselves from her body. She didn’t even make it back to sitting on the couch, instead sitting in the space between the couch and the coffee table, a throw pillow in her arms. It gave some strange sense of security, like when she was a child and would lay under tables to read, or hid under her desk in her room when she was upset. She held onto the pillow and sobbed into it, trying to stifle her tears as so not to wake Elysia.

“Why? Maes, why?” She sobbed out. “What was so important that you had to leave us? What did you do? What did you learn? Why did you have to go?”

She didn’t even know why he had been killed—no one did yet—so she didn’t even know if it was for a good reason or not. All she knew was that he wasn’t here with her. He wasn’t here with her and Elysia.

“You promised! You said we’d give her the world! I can’t give her the world on my own, Maes, because you and her were my world! I gave you to her and now you’re gone! How can I give her the world when you’re gone now?”

She shook as she cried, curling into herself, her head burying itself in the pillow she held in her arms. Her grief was almost over-powering. The only thing that held it back from over taking her was a small girl that was lying asleep upstairs.

“I’ll be happy every day if I have to. Even if it means that I have to pretend, Gracia, I’ll be happy for you every day. For you and Elysia.”

Gracia jerked her head upright with a slight gasp as Maes’s words came into her mind. He had told her those after he had been a victim of some particularly bad nightmares after Elysia’s birth. He had seen so much, but he was willing to live on, push, and be happy for his family.

“I’m not as strong as you, Maes,” she whispered out as her face crumpled again, but she knew what his answer would be.

“Nonsense! I married the strongest, bravest, most beautiful woman in all of Amestris! Maybe we don’t face things exactly the same way, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t strong, Gracia. It just means your strength shows in different ways.”

She trembled again, clutching the pillow to her as she curled up around it, trying to wrap her heart and mind around a decision that she knew she had to come to in her mind.

“I’ll be happy, Maes. Even if I have to pretend. I’ll do my best to be happy for Elysia. And I’ll never let her forget you.”

~*~

Life was such a precious thing. It was such a wonderfully, beautifully, precious thing. It started through pain, ended through pain, and pain was how it changed. Gracia wasn’t sure of anything worthwhile that didn’t involve some pain. The same was true of life. Sometimes the pain was just the pain of a change you weren’t ready for, even if you should be. She held her hands together, gripping them firmly as she allowed a few tears to come to her eyes and pushed down the desire to declare once again just how beautiful this was. She tried not to grip her hands too tightly, thankful that the gloves she had on would prevent any of that from showing on her hands. Everything had changed, and it had changed over and over again.

The plot her husband had died trying to reveal had been discovered, and it had been ended. Her husband’s murder had been killed. The government had been overthrown and replaced with one that had more checks and balances, and more protections to limit its power so nothing like that could ever happen again. The Elric boys had gotten their bodies back and moved on with their lives, traveling and learning, and now with wives and children of their own. Her husband’s best friend had finally come to peace with many things, had pushed for the dreams both he and Maes had talked about. Ishval was a restored country, and there was much peace with the nations that surrounded Amestris now. He had become Fuhrer and had changed even more things, even eventually marrying his adjunct and the woman everyone knew he loved, and he and Riza even had kids of their own.

The changes that had swept across the country had been immense, although Gracia hadn’t been involved in most of that. She had heard it second or third hand, and was often on the sidelines of things. She worked hard to raise Elysia by herself, although she had plenty of help with the number of people that liked to drop by and check on them and talk to them. Elysia had only a few dim memories of her father, but she had enough stories that she knew what he was like. Through it all, Gracia had done her best to stay firm and steady for Elysia, and Elysia and her had been happy together. But Gracia knew enough to know that everything changes in life, and although it’s often painful, that didn’t mean it was bad.

Just like this change, and, although it made her joyful, it made her heart hurt in a myriad of ways.

The music played, the people stood, and with Roy Mustang, the Fuhrer himself, walking her down the aisle, Elysia came walking, resplendent in her wedding dress and with eyes only for her soon-to-be husband. Gracia watched, made eye contact with Roy, and saw the same mix of joy and hurt in his eyes that she felt. In fact, as she watched the service go on, and the reception afterwards, she saw it in many people’s eyes. They were overjoyed for Elysia and her husband, but they couldn’t help but think that Maes should have been here.

He would have loved all the changes that had happened, Gracia couldn’t help but think, and at her getting sentimental over this, he would have been the first to tell her that everything changes, but it’s okay, as long as we keep moving forward. And so Gracia took the change of pain, acknowledged it, and then set it aside to be happy for her daughter as she moved forward into this change.

~*~

Life was such a precious thing. It was such a wonderfully, beautifully, precious thing. It came through pain, it ended through pain, and it changed through pain. Gracia knew that sometimes the pain was a good pain, sometimes the pain was a bad pain, and sometimes the pain was simply the pain of change. But everything that was worthwhile had pain attached to it: Birth, death, change. Gracia Hughes had been through all of them and weathered them for the sake of her daughter.  She would be through them yet again at some point for her daughter. But that was alright. Because this wonderful, beautiful, precious life was worth all the varied kinds of pain it brought.

[fullmetalscullyy]

hit and run - chapter 6

summary: Riza Hawkeye is a thief who is trying to get by in Victorian Central. Hard times fell on her family, tuberculosis claiming her mother and then her father when she was barely a teenager. Now, femme fatale Riza steals to put food on the table for herself, her canine companion - an abandoned puppy who just won’t leave her alone - and two brothers with circumstances similar to her own. However, dipping her hands into the pockets of the rich and famous is always a dangerous game.

rated: m | words: 4630

title: “hit and run” by lolo

read on ao3 and ffnet

“This is it,” his mother stated, sounding rather impressed as she handled the envelope once more. Roy stared at it. This is the information he’d worked for weeks to try and get his hands one. Miss Riza had done it in two days.

She was right, he was hopeless.

“Follow them,” Christmas barked. She gestured with her cigarette to Roy. “Tell Miss Rebecca to stay there for the time being. She will remain by Miss Riza’s side.” Roy was already on his way out the door. “Roy?” she called to him, stopping him in his tracks. “We’ll talk about your little trip into The Vaults when you get back,” she stated, but it sounded like a threat. “Stay with them. Make sure that girl gets all help she needs.”

“Understood,” he replied, a hint of bitterness finding its way into his tone. As he left, behind him he heard his mother command for someone to clean up the mess in her office. Regardless, he was going after them whether the Madame commanded it or not. They’d got Miss Riza into this state. It was the least he could do to make sure he provided aid, especially after seeing that injury.

When Miss Riza had walked into that room he’d been blindsided. He felt the colour drain from his face when he saw the blood. Her black clothing hid it well, but the fabric must have been incredibly saturated because it was dripping through it and onto the floor. Roy felt his heartrate increase, the organ thudding inside his chest. This was the result of his mother’s little test. Someone had gotten hurt. Really hurt.

Roy didn’t understand the Madame’s thought process with this whole thing, and he doubted he never would. It was extreme and Roy didn’t agree with it one bit. Now, look what had happened.

He rushed out the front of the bar, looking left and right down the street to try and find out which direction they would have headed.

“They went this way,” a voice called to him. Roy’s head jerked to the right, finding his partner, Maes Hughes, beckoning him forward. Maes waited then fell into step with Roy instantly as he passed, wasting no time. “That looked bad.”

“It was,” Roy stated, jaw clenching. As they rounded the corner, they spotted three people walking forward. Just as they started jogging to catch up, the person in the middle stumbled, arm jerking out of the others and falling forward.

“Riza!” Miss Rebecca shouted in surprise which spurred Roy on to move even faster. Miss Rebecca grasped her arm again tightly, lifting her friend upright, but Miss Riza’s head lolled forward, slack. She was unconscious.

“What can we do to help?” Roy asked, voice desperate when he saw how pale Miss Riza was. This wasn’t good. This really wasn’t good.

Miss Rebecca’s head snapped up to his, eyes hard as she regarding Roy. She wasn’t happy. To be perfectly honest, Roy wasn’t happy with himself either. He’d tried to watch out for her because he knew just how ruthless his mother could be. He’d entered The Vaults on that first night on his own volition, as back up, just in case, because he knew just how awful Kimblee could be. Roy had been following the man for months and he’d seen some terrible things. He didn’t want to subject an unsuspecting person to that.

Now look what had happened.

“I think you’ve done enough, Mustang,” Miss Rebecca replied, voice clipped. She turned to her friend. “We need to go,” she added urgently. The other woman nodded, shifting her grip on Miss Riza so that Miss Rebecca could lift her into her arms.

“I know,” Roy cut in. “And I’m sorry. She needs help, and we can provide it.”

“Just…” Miss Rebecca sighed in frustration. “Stay close and stay quiet.”

Miss Rebecca led them to a crumbling old bank while Miss Riza continued to bleed out on the ground. Every now and then she would groan, and Roy’s gaze would snap to her limp form.

“Hang in there, Riza,” Miss Rebecca would mutter to her friend. “We’re almost home.”

When the five of them strode into a house at the back of the bank Roy was surprised to see two boys standing by the door waiting for them, eyes wide and worried as they took in the state of Miss Riza.

“What happened?” the one with the short hair asked, horrified.

“Al, get the clean linen and bring it to Riza’s room,” Miss Rebecca ordered. “Ed, grab the first aid kit from the kitchen.” Both boys nodded and dashed off. “Mustang, get in there and remove the bedding.” He nodded and entered Miss Riza’s bedroom, a feeling settling in his stomach that it wasn’t right to be in this woman’s bedroom. However, she was bleeding out partly because of him, so he shoved it down and got to work. He stripped the bed in record time so Miss Rebecca and her friend could lay Miss Riza down. The latter whimpered as she lay back.

“Riza?” Rebecca called to her, trying to get a response as she hurriedly begun pulling gauze out of the kit the kid called Ed had brought through. Al entered the room and waited for his instructions, his arms full of clean linen. “Riza, can you hear me?”

She groaned on the bed and tried to roll, whining when her wound stretched.

“Easy,” the other woman soothed her, stroking her forehead. “We’ve got you. Just relax, Riza. You’re okay.”

“No… The boys…”

“They’re okay. They’re safe,” the woman reassured her.

“Gracia, take this,” Miss Rebecca commanded, handing the previously nameless woman a strip of linen. “Tie it around her torso,” she advised quietly. “Then do it again but tie it around the bed. You two.” She snapped her fingers at Roy and Hughes. “Get over here and help Gracia.” They both jumped into action, helping the woman tie the bedsheet around Miss Riza’s midsection so she was restrained to the bed.

Roy swallowed. He didn’t like the look of this.

“Gracia, get the shoulders,” Miss Rebecca requested softly. “Mustang,” she barked, voice harsher. “Get her legs. Hughes, her arms.”

“What do you need us to do?” Mustang asked uncertainly.

“The blade was poisoned.” His stomach dropped. “I need to draw it out and it will hurt like hell.” Roy swallowed, readying himself to restrain Miss Riza so Miss Rebecca could help her. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice it earlier,” Miss Rebecca muttered under her breath, speaking to herself.

“Riza,” Miss Rebecca called to the patient again. “Riza, the blade was poisoned.” Miss Riza whimpered underneath Miss Rebecca’s hands as she readied a syringe. “It will just be like out east, okay? Same as before. Just try and stay as still as you can, okay? I know it will be hard, but you have to try.”

Miss Riza nodded, and Roy felt his heart sink.

“This has happened before?” Hughes asked quietly.

Both women ignored him. Miss Gracia removed her hand from Miss Riza’s forehead and took another piece of cloth from Al’s outstretched hands. She placed it in Miss Riza’s mouth and that’s when Roy realised it was to try and muffle her screams.

His guilt increased tenfold.

Miss Rebecca lowered the syringe and he felt Miss Riza’s body tense underneath his hands. She began to shake, and Roy’s hands clamped down on her ankles, restraining her so Miss Rebecca could do her job. Her breathing increased, chest heaving as low whines begun to leave her throat.

“I know, Riza, I know,” Miss Rebecca soothed loudly over the sound of her pain. “Just hang in there.”

The whines turned into muffled screams the longer Miss Rebecca worked and it was becoming more and more difficult as Miss Riza began to thrash on the bed, her legs trying to kick wildly and her shoulders bucking on the mattress.

“Riza, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Miss Gracia reassured her, tears in her eyes while clamping down on Miss Riza’s shoulders with a forearm pressed across her body, just below the neck. Her now free hand was placed on her forehead, stroking the skin to soothe her. “Not much longer.”

Miss Rebecca’s syringe was filling up with a sickeningly green liquid, but it had still only drawn a small amount. The process seemed to last forever, and Roy felt his heart break for the woman suffering before them.

“There, done! Riza, I’m done, relax.” Rebecca carefully placed the syringe of offending green liquid down on the metal tray beside her then carelessly removed her gloves, tossing them to the side. She joined Miss Gracia and placed a hand on her forehead. “It’s out of you now. You’re going to be okay.”

Miss Riza’s body sagged, exhausted, underneath their hands. Her screams died down to sobs, body shaking as she cried after the pain. Roy wanted nothing more than to soothe her like her friends were doing, but he was the enemy.

You had a hand in this.

Both he and Hughes shared a look and slipped out the room, giving them some privacy as Riza continued to cry. The gag had been removed and the sound tore at Roy’s chest with guilt.

They stood waiting in the main room of the house and jumped when Miss Rebecca came storming out, the bedroom door banging loudly against the wall next to it.

“What were you doing these past few days, getting involved with Riza?” she accused.

“I was looking out for her,” he hissed, his anger coming into play sooner than he thought. He’d been trying to do the right thing, but no one seemed to believe him. They all thought he was intentionally trying to kill Miss Riza.

“And look where that got her,” Miss Rebecca replied venomously. “This is your fault. And your mother’s too,” she spat. “We’ve seen that poison before out east. It’s your mother’s poison. I only found that out a few weeks ago. I’ve almost lost Riza twice now, to your mother.” Her glare was cutting through him, giving no mercy. “Stay away from us from now on. Your help has been nothing but a curse.”

“You know what she’s like,” Roy reminded Miss Rebecca. “You know how relentless she is. I was trying to protect her, and she pushed me away –”

“Gee, I wonder why?” Miss Rebecca cried sarcastically. “She obviously pushed you away with good reason. This is just proof of it. Her instincts are very good. But you kept on coming back and look where we ended up. You, perfectly fine, but my friend, my sister, lying, dying, on her bed. Great help you were,” Miss Rebecca scoffed.

“Becca?” a quiet rasp interrupted their argument. Roy was left reeling after hearing her words because of course, Miss Rebecca was absolutely right.

He was useless. He couldn’t even protect people from his own mother. He loved his mother, but she pushed, and pushed, and pushed, resulting in things like this happening. For too long Roy had seen it happen and the one time he decided to step in and stand up for the new recruit, he ruined it.

Fucking useless.

“Riza?” Miss Rebecca asked surprised, whirling on the spot and rushing back into the room.

“Leave it,” she whispered. Miss Rebecca huffed in response but didn’t argue. Roy was surprised. “He’s not worth it.”

Despite it being like a punch to the gut, Roy supposed that was fair.

“Come on,” Hughes urged quietly beside him. “Let’s go.” The two men turned and left the room, facing the glares of two teenagers as they left.

“Boys?” a voice suddenly asked. Miss Gracia appeared as if from nowhere with more gauze in her hands. “Can you take these through to Becca?” With one last glare at the two men, they entered Miss Riza’s bedroom and closed the door behind them. “They’re very protective of each other, and with good reason,” Miss Gracia explained, looking at the closed door. She turned to face to two of them, expression hard. “I don’t sympathise with you because you knew exactly what the Madame was capable of but never warned Riza –”

“Neither did Miss Rebecca,” Roy reminded her.

Miss Gracia frowned further. “Riza called upon us yesterday to help with the lift tonight. We didn’t exactly have all the time in the world together.”

Roy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

Miss Gracia regarded him for a minute then nodded. “Thank you.”

“What do we do?” Hughes asked quietly as they walked down towards the street.

“Go and report back to the Madame. Tell her what we need to help Miss Riza. I’ll keep watch.”

“Right. Stay safe, Mustang.”

“You too.”

Hughes took off down the street at a run. Roy watched him go, then turned his head to look at the roof of their home, trying to discern the easiest way to scale the building.

While alone on that rooftop, Roy had planned on thinking of a way to try and make this up to Miss Riza after everything his family had put her through, but he was distracted by the voices from the room below. No matter where he went on the roof, there was no escaping it. So, he had to listen to Miss Riza’s whimpers and cries of pain, increasing his guilt even more.

“It hurts,” she whimpered to Miss Rebecca, who shushed her, trying to soothe Miss Riza’s suffering.

“If I die,” she’d murmured. Roy’s stomach tensed and he had to strain to hear them. “Promise me –”

“You’re not going to die,” Miss Rebecca vowed vehemently.

“Riza,” came Miss Gracia’s voice, much calmer. “You’ll be fine.”

“If I die,” she continued, stressing her point as her voice wobbled with emotion. “Promise me you’ll take care of the boys.”

Miss Rebecca sighed. “Riza –”

“Promise me,” she begged, voice desperate.

“Okay, I promise. They won’t go hungry and I’ll keep them safe.”

“Keep them away from the Underworld if you can,” Miss Riza added. “I don’t want that life for them. They’re too good for it.”

“Okay, I promise,” Miss Rebecca reassured her, voice softening. “But I won’t have to do a damn thing, because you’ll be there to do it yourself.”

“Thank you,” Miss Riza whispered, voice sincere.

Roy watched as Hughes approached the door, hearing the knock from on top of the roof. He handed over the medicine for Miss Riza, hearing Miss Rebecca’s cold tone thanking him for it. As he left, he gave Roy nod over his shoulder, which he returned. He’d already told Hughes he would remain here for the night, keeping watch. It was the least he could do. He didn’t plan on telling anyone in the house below him. He wasn’t looking for thanks or praise, Roy was just looking to do the right thing for a change.

He’d been unintentionally dozing around the four o’clock mark, but had been startled awake, senses instantly alert as he heard rock shifting in the rubble behind the house. Everyone below was quiet and probably asleep, Roy hadn’t heard a peep for the last three hours, so it wouldn’t be them.

Peering over the edge, he spotted two figures dressed in black with their faces covered, each wielding a knife.

“This is it,” a man murmured.

“Plant the charges.”

Roy’s eyes widened.

Slipping his knife out the sheath, he turned and sprinted soundlessly to the front side of the roof, shimmying down the drainpipe he’d used to get up there. Rounding the back of the house, he crouched low to watch their movements. Despite being useless at the thieving stuff, Roy was one of the best fighters in his mother’s network, and he took pride in that fact. He didn’t want to take a life, but if it meant protecting those he cared about and the innocent, he would do it.

One was crouched by the door, placing something on the ground. Roy had a pretty good idea who had sent them here, given they were using explosives.

Kimblee.

Roy wouldn’t let them blow up this house. No way in hell.

He pounced on the closest assailant, the man dodging at the last second, but not before Roy lunged and managed to slice his thigh. He cried out in pain and staggered backwards while the other descended on Roy mercilessly. Good. He needed to burn off some frustration and anger towards Kimblee. This would do nicely.

The first man re-joined the fight while his partner fell back, hand reaching out blindly. Roy dodged, but the blade cut into the skin of his cheek, leaving a shallow cut on his cheekbone. Roy hissed in pain, lashing out with a well-aimed strike, slicing the skin of the man’s side. He cried out, doubling over as his body instinctively curved in on itself to protect the wounded area. Roy slammed the pommel of his knife into the man’s head, knocking him flat to the ground, unconscious, right as the other assailant lunge for his face. Roy bent back, his lower back protesting at the sudden and jarring movement. Roy grabbed the man’s wrist, incapacitating him then pulling him towards his body so Roy was right in his face.

“Who sent you?” he hissed while the man smirked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Roy spun, slamming the man’s back hard against the brick wall of the house. He gasped in pain, eyes popping open in surprise. “Tell me!” he barked.

“Mustang?” he heard Miss Rebecca call, sounding extremely surprised, from his left. He didn’t dare take his eye of the assailant, but he heard a blade being unsheathed.

The man chuckled but offered no further answer. Roy slammed him against the wall again, even harder, causing him to gasp in pain. Right then, the assailant’s hand shot forward and Roy dodged instinctively, expecting a knife, but there was nothing in it. Right as he landed his dodge, a concealed throwing knife was whipped out from his sleeve and the man moved again, stabbing Roy in the side. He’d just moved out the way, so had no momentum to keep moving to dodge the second attack.

A dirty, but smart strategy.

Roy cried out, his hold on the man weakening. With a smirk, the assailant slipped away as Roy reached for his side, but he didn’t get far. Roy grabbed him by his collar, slamming him down on the ground.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” Roy warned after pinning the man with a knee on his chest and another pressing down hard on his elbow. His voice strained from the affects of his injury. His side throbbed, the knife still lodged in there. “Who sent you?” Roy pulled the knife out, the blade slick with his blood, and grunted in pain, throwing the weapon on the ground by the assailant’s head. The man stared wide eyed up at Roy, eyes terrified, obviously not expecting to be caught again.

“Wh – What?” he asked, baffled that Roy wasn’t on the ground by now. It would take more than a tiny knife to stop him.

“Who?” Roy roared, tired of all the beating around the bush. He was irritable, bleeding, and running on very little sleep.

“Ki – Kimblee,” the assailant stuttered, horrified at his very probable demise.

“Are there any more coming?” Roy asked through clenched teeth, bringing a hand to his side again to try and staunch the flow of blood.

“Y – Yes. Two more groups of two.”

“Thank you,” Roy stated graciously, slamming the pommel of his knife into the man’s head to knock him unconscious like his friend.

He stood shakily, hand still on his side, and found Miss Rebecca and Miss Gracia by the door to the house, blades unsheathed and ready to fight, but still looking surprised by Roy’s appearance.

“We need to move,” he told them, approaching the house.

There were obviously questions they wanted to ask but recognised the urgency of the situation. As he entered the door, an arrow hit the back of it, an inch away from his head. Roy kicked the door closed and backed up, seeing another splinter the wood and appear through to the other side.

Miss Gracia and Miss Rebecca were equipped and out the house in seconds to fight and protect Miss Riza.

Roy stumbled into Miss Riza’s bedroom, his vision filling with stars for a brief second. The two teenagers jumped up, defensive an equipped with a glare. Roy ignored them, eyes finding Miss Riza. “We need to go,” he told them.

“Why?” Edward asked. Alphonse watched on, his glare not as intense as his brother’s, but he was still cautious. Smart boy.

“There are men outside trying to kill us, that’s why,” Roy snapped. He strode over to Miss Riza’s bed but was stopped short by Edward standing in her way.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” he seethed.

“Unless you want to die,” Roy hissed as he glared at the older brother. “You will move and let me help you all get to safety.”

“Ed,” Alphonse urged, begging him to step aside.

“If you hurt her again,” Edward warned.

“I’m well aware kid,” Roy muttered, placing an arm underneath Miss Riza’s back and the other underneath her knees. “You’ll have to get in line for the people who want to kill me after tonight.” Not looking back he lifted Miss Riza and exited the room. He entered the other bedroom, kicking the door the to secret passage he’d noticed when they’d entered earlier. He lived with the Madame Christmas. He could spot a trapdoor from a mile away.

“Help me with this,” he barked to the brothers, turning in place then wincing as his side smarted. They didn’t need to be told twice. Roy carried Miss Riza down the stairs and far into the tunnel so that if the others did manage to plant more charges and set them off, she would be far enough to be out of harm’s way.

“Stay here,” Roy ordered lowly to the two brothers. “I’m going back to help the other two.”

“But… you’re hurt!” Alphonse exclaimed.

“They need the backup and it’s the least I can do for all that I’ve brought upon you all so far. Stay here, stay quiet, and stay hidden,” he commanded, turning and running back to the house.

The tunnel had multiple routes going snaking off from the main entrance. He’d taken the centre one because statistically, it would be the most likely the other two women would take if they were fleeing the scene.

However, before he could reach the bottom of the wooden stairs, they splintered before his eyes, the wood hitting his face and hands, a blast sending him flying backwards to land roughly on the hard ground.

He rolled onto his stomach, pushing up onto his hands and knees with his ears ringing, head throbbing, and vision failing. Shaking his head to try and rid it of the sound of ringing, Roy failed to do so. He blinked furiously, but his vision continued to blur and double.

Somehow, he managed to get to his feet, a hand placed on the dirt wall to steady himself. As he pulled his hand away, the wall crumbled underneath his hand, the shock of the explosion shaking the very ceiling above him. At any minute it could collapse on top of Roy but all he could think of was going back to help Miss Gracia and Miss Rebecca.

He took one step onto the barely-there steps before a foot struck his chest, sending him flying backwards. Landing roughly again, Roy coughed and wheezed to try and get air back into his winded lungs. His vision was nothing but light and dark shapes, so he had no idea who was going to kill him. His head rolled to the side, still disorientated, but the pain he expected never came. Instead, he passed out on the dirt while shapes still danced above him.

Roy’s eyes popped open again and with a gasp, he sat up sharply. He groaned in pain while his side protested at the movement, his head thumping after the explosion, and his cheek smarting.

“Hey,” Miss Rebecca greeted, voice holding none of the hostility it had done previously when they’d conversed before.

Roy winced, bringing a hand to his side, but he discovered a softness above it. Cracking open an eye, he lifted his shirt and found it had been bandaged up.

“How long was I out for?” he asked, shifting in place. They were still in the tunnel. The light was limited, only coming from a flaming torch Edward held up in his hands. Looking around, everyone was accounted for. Miss Gracia and Miss Rebecca sat on either side of Miss Riza, who was unconscious. Edward and Alphonse sat across from them in the cramped tunnel, eyes regarding Roy.

“About an hour,” Miss Rebecca answered. “I patched up your side.”

“Thanks,” he replied, wincing as he moved further and leaned heavily against the dirt wall. “Are we stuck?” he asked.

“The house is gone,” Miss Gracia stated softly. “The ceiling caved in after another explosion, but luckily we were already far enough in.”

Then, Roy realised they must have moved him further in, because he was right at the bottom of those stairs. He was grateful they hadn’t left him behind despite all he had put them through.

“Why were you at the house?” Miss Rebecca asked curiously. Again, the hostility was gone.

“I was on look out.” Roy closed his eyes against the pain. It was better than it had been an hour ago, but his head was pounding, and the flickering flames were taking a toll on him. Talking wasn’t much better.

“We didn’t ask you to,” Miss Rebecca offered softly.

“No,” he stated during a sigh, finally finding comfort. “But I wanted to. Just in case.”

“You were looking out for us,” Miss Gracia stated, and Roy nodded as if to answer it as a question.

“It was the least I could do.”

“Why did you come back? Before the explosion?”

Roy sighed again with eyes still closed. He winced as the movement of his ribcage stretched the skin on his side. He thought the answer to that question would be obvious.

“I never leave anyone behind,” he replied, opening his eyes to look at the four curious gazes. “I’m shit as a thief, that much has been proved already, but I’m a good fighter. I came back to provide back-up. I couldn’t leave you two to face them alone.”

The area went quiet again and Roy rested his head back against the dirt wall.

“Thank you,” Miss Gracia offered sincerely, voice kind.

“Yeah, thanks, Mustang. We… appreciate it.” Miss Rebecca’s thanks were also sincere, and Roy appreciated that too.

“Don’t mention it,” he mumbled.

“We’ll rest here for another hour then we need to go,” Miss Gracia stated. “Mr. Mustang is too injured to move right now.”

“I’m fine –”

“You were stabbed,” Miss Rebecca reminded him.

“I’m aware of that,” he replied.

“We will rest here,” Miss Gracia reiterated, giving Roy a pointed look, not taking no for an answer.

Silence descended on the group once more and Roy was thankful for it, his head still pounding.

“It’s Roy,” he muttered suddenly.

“What?” Edward asked after a pause.

“I’m not Mr. Mustang,” he elaborated. “It’s just Roy.”

“Same goes for us,” Miss Rebecca stated. “I’m not worth of the title Miss,” she chuckled.

Roy nodded, taking note of her amusement and even smiling briefly himself. “Noted.”

Well, at least they weren’t looking at him like they wanted to kill him anymore.

[icameheretowinry]

Roy Mustang !

Casey you are blessing me with this ask!! I will take any opportunity to gush over my anime husband. (/▽＼*)｡o○♡ 

How I feel about this character:

Like Ed, Roy is one of my favorite characters of all time, within and outside the fma universe. In fact, I’d go as far as to put them on equal footing. (I said Ed was my favorite fma character in his ask, but I really can’t choose between them.) While a majority of fma characters are excellently written, Roy is uniquely spectacular in the complexity of his backstory, personality, and relationships with other characters. 

Save Wrath, Riza and Hohenheim, Roy’s origins are not only incredibly intriguing, but actually account for many of his unique skills and personality traits. Growing up under the guardianship of Madame Christmas and her network of spies, it’s easy to see where Roy picked up his effortless ploys of charisma, and the nuances of espionage, also likely an environment where he learned to grow up very fast. His aunt’s connections to Grumman, coupled with the cooperation of his adoptive sisters, not only convincingly fortified his false reputation as a womanizer, but put him in the prime position to receive any range of military intel higher ups would blab to a pretty face. In addition, while the nature of his alchemy is/was known to the Hawkeyes, Roy finds himself in the unique position of not only being its soul bearer, but its last, while painfully aware of the damage his power can inflict, and be exploited by others. Interestingly, while there is a lot of turmoil that separates the idealistic boy that spoke to Riza in front of her father’s grave, and the colonel we see during the Elric’s story, he still deeply cares about the state of the world he lives in and how he can change it. However, time has brought a portion of that sense of justice to the personal level, rendering Roy that much more determined, and that much more unstable. 

Despite the dark nuances of his past in Ishval, a distinct side of Roy remains remarkably childish and goofy. Forgoing professionalism, he often mirrors Ed’s belligerence in an attempt to enforce his authority, blatantly ignore checks to his own power (i.e. rain) to overcome a problem on his own or assert his own credibility as an alchemist (i.e. that thing where teens think they are invincible), and finds sheer entertainment in tasks he should probably be taking seriously (see above). I’m honestly not quite sure how to define this aspect of his personality. At times quite endearing, I can’t help but think it has something to do with his time spent in Ishval. Is it a coping mechanism? A portion of his teenage self that was sequestered and shut away? Or maybe I’m reading too much into it and he’s just a goof. However, I like to think he only whips it out around people he is truly comfortable with (the Elrics included). 

Also, let’s not forget that Roy is incredibly intelligent, and was the youngest state alchemist in history before Ed showed up. He was only 20, I believe, so I can understand his reading of Ed’s personality, and what he could do with his alchemy. He saw a version of himself in Ed, no doubt. He can create explosions large enough to destroy an entire building, yet precise enough to burn a single piece of paper or boil the fluid in Envy’s eyes, even when overcome by rage. Nothing about his alchemy is haphazard or uncalculated. He figures out he can carve a damn transmutation circle in his hand to continue fighting, and has enough medical knowledge to cauterize a serious wound. His skillfully plays within the lines of the Amestrian military, yet all with the intention to turn it around to his advantage. Even when things go wrong, he has his artfully cultivated support system of subordinates, friends, allies, and informants to catch him. Finally, not only is his alchemy more complex than that of any other state alchemists, Roy can perform is blind with little instruction. He’s a calculated strategist, excellent spy, and just plain brilliant. 

Finally, Roy is the perfect parallel to Ed. They are both idealistic young boys at some point. They’re both hopeful of a better future. They aren’t foils of each other, but exist beautifully together. Roy is Ed, more or less, 15 years older. They both have past sins to atone for, and unlike Father, they learn to embrace them, and become stronger individuals for the future benefit of the communities they surround themselves with. They’re equally serious, and at times, equally immature. Roy has the advantage of age, while Ed has the advantage of time. From what one has done wrong, the other has done right, and they respect and learn from each other. Roy is very protective of the Elric brothers, and encourages them along their quest. Ed, while he makes fun of Roy, looks up to him, and is one of the few to pull him to his sense from the pits of rage. Neither of them are perfect, but despite all the headbutting and jokes, these two are the ultimate allies, examples, and, just let me say, friends. 

And just as an indulgent side note, Roy is HELLA attractive. I can’t remember who made the post recently, but I sincerely agree with the point of how bafflingly handsome he is. His aesthetic is something I personally go for, so yeah, anime husband. *screams into the void* *the void agrees* 

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Ummmmmmmmmm. If it isn’t possible to ship royai, I don’t need to exist in this world. Cancel my subscription! I more than ADORE these two. The subtly of their relationship is masterful, and every interaction is honed; built on years of experience, and is beautiful to watch. I adore Roy’s friendship with Maes (see below), but his relationship with Riza is next to none. They are so in sync that they terrify me. It is, honestly a relationship that transcends love. In short, while I don’t always see this in the real world, they are, imo, soulmates. They understand, respect, and love each other. It’s so effortless, the world doesn’t even need an explanation. There are people who get along. There are people who get each other, like Maes and Roy. And then there is the person whose existence fits seamlessly your own, just so. That’s Roy and Riza. 

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

This is the friendship that created the term bromance y’all. I LOVE these two. For two people that became friends over a piece of damn quiche, I will cry over the development of their relationship for the next 10,000 years. Roy and Maes are THE example of a perfect friendship. They support each other in their goals, joke around, know when to be serious, and just plain GET each other. The only other person who could possibly read that deep into Roy besides Riza, is Maes. They went through hell together in Ishval, and came out on the other side with a steadfast promise to fix the state of their country, and to see it ripped apart ENDED me. I have the distinct feeling that Roy looked up to Maes; seeing the future he had, and believing it could be real. He could fall in love, and have a family. He could be happy. Then, it was all torn away. His prophecy on the battlefield came true, and I bet Roy hated himself for it. I bet he despised himself. This is where the inspiration for my fic “Young” came from. (If you want to read, here’s the link.) If the man he cared for the most, the man who had done less wrong than he, not be happy, not be allowed to live, then why should he even consider the possible existence of a brighter future for himself? 

My unpopular opinion about this character:

I really wanted to see other emotions from Roy that straight rage regarding his response to Hughes’ death. We get the “today is a terrible day for rain” moment, but for a character as driven by his emotions as Roy, I really expected more outward displays of grief and despair from him over the death of his best friend. Vulnerable Roy is excellent to watch, and honestly, I’d love to see more of it. While both he and Ed are emotionally vulnerable over the course of the series, it’s shown more blatantly in Ed’s corner, even though he doesn’t cry. There are moments where he expresses genuine despair and helplessness, and they are uniquely powerful (see the scene within Gluttony as a prime example). I get that Roy is supposed to appear cold and collected, but the few times his emotions manifest in ways other than rage, are beyond excellent. He doesn’t need to cry, per se, but a few more varied expressions would be more than appreciated. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

If two (2) things happened, I would be forever happy. First, if Arakawa ever made royai canonically official. *swoons at the mere thought* Second, I need a Team Mustang spinoff series! I need all the office shenanigans, meetings to exchange intelligence gone wacky, initial assembly of the team, flashbacks to Roy’s childhood with Madame Christmas, all the inside jokes about Fuery being the smol son of the group, Havoc’s fail of a love life, Breda’s fear of dogs, and everyone secretly trying to get Roy and Riza together?!?!?! GIVE. IT. TO. ME. 

Send me a character, if you dare. 

[heatherrosebabcock]

Beer and Blood: The Birth of the Public Enemy

by Heather Babcock (copyright 2018)

THREE DETROIT GANGSTERS MASSACRED: DEAD VICTIMS STILL HOLD CIGARS THEY SMOKED WHEN GUNS SPOKE, screamed a rather poetic real life Globe newspaper headline on September 17th, 1931.

Prohibition, now over a decade old, had transformed ordinary citizens into lawbreakers and everyday hoodlums into wealthy, bloodthirsty demigods. 1931 could arguably be summed up as “the year of the gangster”: the newspapers were full of ‘em – stories of “bloody bootleg rackets” and “bootlegger bandit death trysts” dominated the headlines and, thanks to the Warner Brothers studio, the silver screen as well. The studio, which only a few years earlier had revolutionized the industry by ushering in sound (or “talkies”) with 1927’s The Jazz Singer, began 1931 with a bang when they released Little Caesar.

“Be somebody,” Rico, Little Caesar’s ambitious thug, played by the incomparable Edward G. Robinson, enthuses at the start of the film. To “be somebody” is to be rich but as Rico warns “Money’s all right but it ain’t everything. Be somebody. Look hard at a bunch of guys and know that they’ll do anything you tell ‘em. Have your own way or nothin’.”

In other words, to “be somebody” is to live the American Dream and in an America caught in the double fisted grip of Prohibition and the Great Depression, it was a dream gone dangerously delirious - a dream fueled by buckets of bathtub gin; a dream which could be poisonous if taken straight.

Little Caesar was a massive hit – so much so that theaters had to keep it running twenty-four hours a day just to satisfy audience demand; they had done the same thing almost four years earlier with Underworld, Josef von Sternberg’s 1927 gangland epic for Paramount Pictures.  Underworld, a film dripping with both beauty and brutality, is considered by many to be the first successful gangster picture – the Grand Daddy of all gangster movies if you will – but it was a silent film; it wasn’t until the gangsters began to talk when the genre truly secured its choke-hold on the public’s imagination. It is a testament to the power and influence of the movies that when we picture Prohibition-era gangsters today it is not the real-life criminals, such as Al Capone or Jack “Legs” Diamond, who immediately come to mind but rather Edward G. Robinson, a cigar anchored between his lips, or James Cagney, shooting his words out quicker than bullets from a Tommy gun.

Riding the wave of gunfire, Warner Brothers followed Little Caesar with The Public Enemy, released in April of that same year. In The Public Enemy, James Cagney stars as the nasty break-your-word-and-I’ll-break-your-face bootlegger Tom Powers. One wonders if we would still be discussing this film eighty-seven years later if it were not for Cagney. I say that not to lessen the talent of the movie’s other stars, but there has never been any question that The Public Enemy is Cagney’s picture. Originally Edward Woods was signed on to play Tom Powers, with Cagney as his side-kick Matt. However when director William “Wild Bill” Wellman was viewing the early footage he realized that it was Cagney, and not the handsome but reticent Woods, who crackled with an almost frightening intensity. Wellman switched the actors’ roles and both a classic movie and a star were born.

He was beloved by both cast and crew as the nicest guy on the lot but onscreen Cagney could be as terrifying as he was captivating. Watch closely his movements in The Public Enemy – particularly his hands – his gestures are as sharp as a boxer’s jab yet as graceful as a ballet dancer’s pirouette. Indeed, the street smart Cagney had been both a boxer and a dancer. In his own words, from his 1976 autobiography Cagney by Cagney:

“I learned how to dance from learning how to fight. It was feint, duck, quick dance around your opponent on your toes mostly, then shoot out the arm like a bullet.”

Cagney ignores the rules of the early talkies – to speak slowly and to enunciate clearly – instead he spits words out at breakneck speed in his proud Lower East Side New York accent. As we follow Tom Powers’ rise from a young roller-skate snatcher to a vicious bootlegger, we can’t keep our eyes off of him. That is, until Jean Harlow shows up. There is a very good reason why Warner Brothers borrowed her from Hughes for The Public Enemy and for why she shares top billing with Cagney even though she has less than half of his screen time: in the 1930s, studios catered to a female audience and they undoubtedly knew that women would be more likely to buy a ticket to see a gangster flick if Jean Harlow, the original Platinum Blonde and most influential 1930s style and beauty icon, was in it. Just one year later, Harlow would come into her own both as an actress and a comedian: she would make them laugh in Red-Headed Woman (1932) and cry in Red Dust (1932). But her early acting, particularly in The Public Enemy, has always inspired negative criticism and cruel mocking. I for one though appreciate the glitter and grit that Harlow brings to the role of Gwen, Tom’s trophy moll. In Harlow’s hands, Gwen is not a society dame but a dame who craves society – like Tom and Rico she wants to “be somebody”. Working class audiences, the audience that Warner Brothers proudly catered to, adored Jean Harlow. Whiplash may be a viewer side-effect of watching Cagney and Harlow together on screen – it feels as though we are watching a game of ping pong but the ball is their fire. Make no mistake though – the passions that they unleash are at each other, not for each other; Gwen and Tom are not a couple mating but rather individuals fighting for their own place in the world. Their one love scene together is the only time in the film when Cagney appears truly vulnerable but when Harlow says to him “You don’t give – you take,” she could easily be talking about herself. That love scene goes unconsummated, ending with a frustrated Harlow smashing a champagne glass against the wall as Tom carelessly walks out with his friend Matt. Cagney didn’t do romance and The Public Enemy isn’t a romantic film – nor is it really a movie about guns and bootleggers. The Public Enemy is a film about family. The script was adapted from Kubec Glasmon and John Bright’s novel Beer and Blood and that title sums up all of Tom’s world: his “beer” family of bootleggers and his “blood” family, played here by Beryl Mercer as his naïve, loving mother and Donald Cook as his conservative big brother Mike.

The relationship between brothers Tom and Mike is interesting. It is complicated and intense in the way that relationships between real-life siblings often are. Tom Powers may thumb his nose at Mike’s responsible lifestyle (“He’s too busy going to school – he’s learning how to be poor”) but the hard-core gangster, who can literally shoot a man in the back before calling his moll for a date, doesn’t defend himself when his disapproving brother gives him a sock in the jaw (and the punch was reportedly real – Cook hit Cagney so hard that Cagney cracked a tooth). In one of the film’s best scenes, Mike picks up a keg and throws it across their mother’s kitchen, angrily accusing Tom that “there’s not only beer in that keg – there’s beer and blood!” Tom replies that Mike, who has just returned home from the War and is incidentally shell shocked, is a hypocrite. “You didn’t get them medals from holding hands with them Germans,” he sneers. “You killed and you liked it!” He is projecting in the way that siblings often do – for of course it is Tom, not Mike, who “kills and likes it.”

In the early 1930s, gangster movies used real bullets but the most explosive scene in The Public Enemy doesn't involve gun fire at all – yes folks, it's time to talk about the Grapefruit. The film's most notorious moment happens as Tom sits down to breakfast with his moll Kitty, played by the lovely Mae Clarke. They have obviously just had sex and Tom is acting more than a little cold and distracted. Kitty, looking fabulous in a pair of silk lounging pajamas, asks him if he has met someone he likes better. Cagney’s sneer curls up like a fist as he picks up a half grapefruit and smashes it in Mae’s face. It is a cruel scene which still shocks today and it confirms our suspicion that Tom Powers is a sociopath.

It seems that almost every man who had a hand in making the film has their own story of how this scene came to be shot; the most commonly accepted theory is also the most condescending - the belief that the scene was improvised by Cagney and Wellman, without Clarke's knowledge or consent and that her response was thus genuine. This assumption irritates me as it is dismissive of Clarke's admirable acting talents and relegates her to little more than a prop. Well, Clarke was no prop and she sure as hell wasn't a hack either: in 1931, in addition to the Public Enemy, she delivered strong performances in three important films: Waterloo Bridge, Frankenstein and The Front Page. As for that grapefruit, I'm going to go with Mae's version of the story, both because I trust her talent and because I like her better than all those other mugs: in a 1983 interview with American Classic Screen, Mae said that the script originally called for Cagney throwing the grapefruit at her and then storming out. Wellman and Cagney however felt that this wasn’t quite working so they took Mae aside and asked if she would be okay with Cagney pushing the grapefruit in her face. Mae didn’t like the idea but agreed to do it on the condition that the scene be shot once and with no retakes. Still, according to her close friends, Mae always hated the “grapefruit scene”. Viewers today may honor her talent by watching this great actress in the powerful role for which she would undoubtedly prefer to be remembered – as chorus girl turned prostitute Myra in James Whale’s Waterloo Bridge. Mae Clarke was much more than just “the dame who gets the grapefruit facial". The most criminal thing about the Public Enemy is that she did not even receive a screen credit.

Like the grapefruit scene, the film’s ending also packs a wallop with rival gang members tossing Cagney’s mummified corpse through his mother’s living room door. It is Cook’s nuanced performance though that makes this scene truly haunting – his slow, stunned lurch towards the camera to the tune of a broken phonograph record. Will Mike avenge his brother’s death, we wonder? Or will this be the final straw that breaks him? And how will he tell Ma that her baby is finally home but not in the way that she hoped?

Like other gangster films from this period, The Public Enemy is book ended by title cards warning of the dangers of a gangster lifestyle. Audiences accepted these admonishments as broccoli to the film’s ice cream dessert. “(Gangster pictures) are intended to point out the lesson that crime does not pay,” insisted Harry Warner and you can almost see Tom Powers sneer in response. “Crime doesn’t pay, does it?” I picture him saying. “Baby, these days it’s the only thing that pays.” The popularity of films like The Public Enemy is indicative of how most Americans really felt about Prohibition. Eighty-five years later the film’s heat remains as unquenchable as a forest fire. Who needs CGI when you’ve got James Cagney?

Copyright Heather Babcock, 2018

[aheartmadefullmetal16]

in the name of love

I started writing this a long time ago, but I’ve only recently found the inspiration to continue it. As many of you know, I lost two grandparents last year. It's part of why I've been gone so long. The grief comes and goes in waves, and there are moments that I feel so hurt I can barely breathe. This fic in particular became kind of hard for me to write, considering that I see myself a lot in Riza. Riza is very near and dear to my heart, and so writing her grief was almost like I was writing mine.

I don’t regret writing this at all. In fact, it was really therapeutic for me to be able to work through some of the things I’m feeling. Writing Royai has been a really unique experience for me, because it gave me hope that I’d have someone as loyal and kind as Roy one day. Now that I do, writing Royai is so great. It’s probably why I write Riza so much. She reminds me a lot of myself, and I think it’s wonderful that we have characters that we can love and relate to so well. FMAB is a series that has influenced me for the better and I’ll never forget it.

Inspired by a couple headcanons, some of which are @xennariel’s that I totally agree with

Takes place sometime after this.

when there's madness, when there's poison in your head when the sadness leaves you broken in your bed i will hold you in the depths of your despair and it's all in the name of love

That night, Riza does not stay in her room.

There’s an interior door that connects Roy’s room to hers; every hotel stay has been that way. It’s easier for her to protect him, and it’s easy enough to justify should suspicion ever arise. Usually Riza will leave the door between them slightly ajar, allowing her to hear his breathing as he sleeps. She’s grown accustomed to sleeping at the opposite end of the bed if that end is closest to the door, and Roy no longer questions the shifted sheets in the morning.

But that night, there is none of that. The door is firmly closed, her sheets are perfectly in place, and the pillow remains at the correct end of the bed.

“Lieutenant, this really isn’t necessary.”

Roy’s voice is soft, but firm and insistent. Instead of rolling her eyes at his protests like she usually does, Riza waits patiently for him to finish.

“Sir, I recognize your sentiments, but I feel that this would be better for the both of us tonight.”

Though they both speak formally, as they had agreed they would whenever they were in uniform or on the job, Riza is situated firmly on the other side of Roy’s bed. They face each other, but leave a considerable amount of space between them. She wishes she could scoot over to him and let him hold her, but they’re already stretching the rules as it is.

“Hawkeye,” he says, trying to put as much meaning in her last name as he would do with her first. “I appreciate it, but I’m perfectly fine.”

“We both know that’s a bold-faced lie,” she replies, but adds a smile to take off the unintended bite of her words. “Colonel, you may not think you need the company, but I think you do. Not to mention the fact that I would very much like to not be alone tonight.” Her voice tightens at the end, and Riza is surprised. She’s kept her composure for this long, so why is she breaking now?

“All right,” Roy agrees. He reaches out across the space to stroke her cheek, and Riza smiles. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Riza responds instantly, almost like it was programmed within her to do so. She fights back the wave of emotions that threatens to crash on the surface, and tries to hide it, but Roy notices. This entire week, Riza has been strong for Roy. She refused to let her grief show itself, and she meticulously packed it down and locked it into a small box in her brain, which was a habit she’d inherited from her father. Before long, that box would burst open and overflow, unable to take the strain any longer. Just a few hours before, it had leaked considerably, but she had managed to lock it back up just in time. But Riza can feel that lock beginning to break.

Anxiety and adrenaline rush through her veins, and her heart begins to race. Deep dread settles into her stomach, and every part of her feels as though she’s covered in a thin film of tiny shards of glass. Vainly she swallows, trying to push back the turbulent emotions within her, and succeeds for a moment. “I just… I can’t believe he’s gone,” she chokes.

With those words the lock disintegrates, the box opens, and the flood Riza had tried so valiantly to suppress comes roaring out.

Instantly she’s crying, and she hates herself for it. She was supposed to be the one to keep it together and protect her Colonel no matter what, and for the second time that night she couldn’t manage to keep her emotions in check? Pathetic, her brain whispers, and that only brings a fresh round of tears. Roy is immediately there, moving across the bed to gather her into his arms. Riza buries her face in his chest and sobs, too distraught to care about the military’s rules. Wave after wave crashes over her, and all the while Roy holds her patiently. His hands press quiet circles and triangles and their code symbols into her back as she cries. This was so much worse than earlier- earlier she had simply drowned, but now, the waves bury her over and over again, the salt burning her sinuses and drying out her heart to resemble a shriveled husk.

Words begin to spill out of her mouth, and she can’t stop the stream. “Why did he have to die? What are Gracia and Elicia going to do without him? What are we going to to, Roy?” She looks into his eyes, her vision quite blurred from her tears, and she sees that he’s crying, too.

“We’ll get through this,” Roy replies thickly, speaking past the lump in his throat. “We’ll all get through this. We’ll hold each other up. It’s going to be okay.”

His words comfort her for a moment, but then that awful monster of grief and pain rears up again, clawing at her insides and tearing her heart to ribbons. The air in Riza’s lungs disappears completely and once more, a river of speech rushes from her, nearly unintelligible in its speed. “B-but it can’t be. How will it be okay? When will it stop hurting so much?” Even as she speaks she hears Roy sobbing, and the sound of the man she loves more than anything completely shattering is more than enough to shatter her, too.

“I don’t know, love,” Roy says, his voice cracking horribly through his words. He holds her tighter and she curls up into him, hoping and praying that the tightness of his embrace will hold all of her breaking pieces together. “I can’t…” His voice fails him. “He was my best friend, and I couldn’t do anything to save him. Why am I so useless?”

The sparse remainder of Riza’s heart breaks even more at his words, and for a moment, all they can do is let themselves cry together for the second time that night. That awful void of grief and pain swallows them whole, and there is no exit in sight. All concepts of happiness and wholeness quietly slip away, and they are left to nurse the throbbing wounds within themselves. Riza feels as though someone is reaching down her throat to sever her heart from her body. Her breaths come in quick, shallow gasps between her sobs and she shudders in anguish.

Hughes didn’t just belong to Roy- he and Riza were the best of friends, too. The obligations of the office had always forced them to act like nothing more than civil acquaintances, but nothing could change what they had been through and done for one another. The three of them- she and Roy and Maes- had been through literal hell and back. Ishval had seared and burned out all feelings of humanity, but together they healed each other’s wounds and learned to cope.

“I hate myself for thinking this,” Roy begins slowly, “but I meant what I said after his funeral. I’m still desperately trying to theorize about human transmutation.”

What is still running of Riza’s blood stops completely. “Don’t you dare.” A small flicker of surprise flashes inside her when she hears her own voice. It was snarling, venomous, angry. She could feel a new emotion rising within her, and it echoes in her gaze. Riza loves this man, but sometimes he said the stupidest things. “Don’t you ever dare commit the taboo, Roy Mustang.” She swallows hard, trying to sound less pathetic. “I can’t afford to lose you.”

Roy’s face, if possible, crumples even more. “I know. God, I know.” Then suddenly, horribly, he breaks down harder than he had before, and Riza hates herself. Nevertheless, she holds him even tighter as the rage drains away and the sobs overtake her again.

Riza doesn’t know when they fall asleep. She doesn’t know when the tears had stopped and exhaustion overcame them. But she doesn’t really care. Being comatose offers them the peace they so desperately need, and while they’re in the deepest depths of despair, it is the only thing that could ever help.

[queenwinry]

Passing the Torch

Pairing: Royai

Rating: K

Words: 1094

A/N: So a little bird told me that today is @theysangastheyslew‘s birthday and I just couldn’t not let it past without writing a little something. Elena makes our fandom so much better with her AMAZING art that makes me cry from angst or squeal from fluff. I so appreciate everything she brings to our fandom! Happy Birthday Elena, I hope you enjoy some cotton-candy sweet fluff!

Roy comes to the most horrific and world-shattering realization on a benign Tuesday morning in the fall.

The camera nearly drops from his hands, the smile on his face falls, and his whole body freezes. The doey brown eyes that seem to always be filled with wonder and a familiar softness he had long ago come to adore stare back at him curiously. For once in his life ignoring those wonderfully familiar brown eyes, Roy turns to the nearby dining room table, where photo albums are scattered about and hundreds of glossy pictures are waiting to be sorted.

Oh god, he’s become Edward Elric.

Or worse, they’ve both become Maes Hughes.

There were certainly worse men in the world he could emulate, but the memories of his late friend’s incessant gushing about his young daughter, combined with the more recent influx of pictures and stories detailing the lives of Fullmetal’s children stop him cold. His eyes widen and a strange feeling of dread comes over him.

Sitting across the rug from him and eyeing him strangely is his wife. She notices his quick change in demeanor with her usual expertise and lifts an eyebrow. “What is it?” she asks.

“I’ve turned into Maes,” is all Roy whispers, willing up enough brain power after the startling epiphany to set the camera down before it falls from his hands and breaks.

If possible, Riza looks even more skeptical after that. “What are you talking about? He’s right here,” she says, indicating the young five-month-old happily bouncing away in his chair, staring up at his father with his usual infantile awe.

Roy breathes out, attempting to remain patient. “Maes Hughes,” he corrects.

Understanding immediately dawns on the veteran captain’s face and she smiles slyly. “You’re just now figuring that out? You’ve been like Hughes since the day Maes was born.”

Quickly, Roy straightens up. “Y-yeah, but I wasn’t that bad at the start...right?” Suddenly, surrounded by photographs (all of either his son or his wife), the general realizes that this isn’t a new development. Ever since that first time they’d bundled up the child with his father’s messy hair and his mother’s incredible eyes and placed him in Roy’s arms, he’d been sold hook, line, and sinker.

Riza smirks, an unusual look on her normally stoic face but here, with her two favorite boys, she’s free to be herself. Her teasing, shockingly sarcastic self. “Roy, by the time they wheeled me out of delivery and back to my hospital room, you’d already bragged about Maes to all of the team, the Fuhrer, Madame Christmas’ entire bar, and the Elrics. You’ve been as obnoxious as he was since day one.”

“Then why am I just now realizing that?” he speaks in a baffled tone, a completely shell-shocked look still taking up residence on his face.

Riza’s smile grows even wider. “Maybe you’ve just been too busy printing out photographs the last five months to notice.”

Before Roy can even begin to form a response to that, a small giggle is heard from the middle of the rug and both parents look down to find Maes Mustang smiling and laughing up at his father. Immediately the general’s entire world lights up once more and his hands desperately reach for the camera again.

“Look, Riza! He’s laughing at me!” He exclaims joyfully clicking picture after picture of his happy baby.

Riza shakes her head. “He isn’t the only one.”

“Hey, I may be just like Hughes now, but I’m starting to get the sense that he was justified. I mean, when you got something this adorable in front of you, how can you not gush?” Roy says with a smirk, his head still behind the lense of the camera. Riza resigns herself to her husband’s obnoxious adoration. She doesn’t dare tell him how much joy it fills her each time she watches him get excited about every new little thing Maes does as he grows. Or how sexy a man loving on a baby is.

“Well, all the same, it’s naptime,” she says with a definitive tone, rising to her feet and walking over to Maes’s bouncy chair.

The disappointed look that overtakes Roy’s face almost makes laugh out loud, but she manages to rein in the emotion.

“Already? Surely it’s not that late.”

Riza unstraps the baby from the seat and lifts him into her arms with an ease no one who knew her would have ever seen coming. “You’ll have more opportunities for photo shoots when he wakes up.”

Roy sighs in resignation. “Fine, but at least let me get one more.”

His words stop Riza on her path toward the nursery and she turns around with little Maes in her arms, a curious look on her face. Roy doesn’t hesitate in snapping a photo of the two of them, watching as Riza immediately frowns at the act.

“Roy, you know I don’t like it when you do that,” she admonishes.

The smile that overtakes the general’s face is doey-eyed and filled with more love than most people can even comprehend. It’d be easy to forget in that moment that the man was a powerful general in the military and not just an idiot dad in love with his family. “Indulge me,” he says by way of explanation as he sets the camera down. “I just want a picture of the two people who make me the luckiest man alive.”

Though it’s cringe-worthy at best, Riza can’t help the small upward tilt of her mouth. “Since when did you become so cheesy?”

“Since I became Hughes apparently.”

Riza laughs genuinely at this and turns back toward the nursery. “Well, Dad Extraordinaire, I hope you’re still feeling like that when he needs a change. You’re up for the next dirty diaper.”

An unpleasant thought, but Roy waves it away with ease as he gets up and turns toward the pile of photographs. Yes, he is obnoxious and cheesy and everyone probably hates him as soon as he pulls his wallet photos out, but he can’t help himself. He finds one in particular of Maes and Riza and his smile softens even more.

This life, the one he never thought he’d get the chance to live, is more beautiful than he could’ve ever imagined. So, yeah, he takes too many pictures and gets way too excited about the smallest things and has become just like his obnoxious best friend, but Roy finds it’s worth it everytime he sees either his son or his wife smile.

Oh so worth it.

[strawbebehmod]

A fic someone’s gonna hate me for

For rarepair week day 2 prompt 3 “You know, I’m actually really glad we did this.”

Ok, so about a year ago, a friend dared me to write a fic for envyxhughes and actually make the ship work somehow. So the result was an au where Gracia never existed and it was just Envy in disguise using hughes to spy on Mustang but ends up actually falling for Hughes, because Maes is Maes. Someone told me to actually post it for rarepair week, so here you go. 

Envy sat in contemplation in the dingy underground. They’d been sitting there for over an hour, just thinking over the day’s previous events. They had rocked them to their core. Today while on a “date”, Hughes had called them beautiful. Usually they paid no mind to such words. After all humans threw around words such as lovely and pretty all the time. And cute could be just as derogatory of a term as annoying or dumb. But this time it was different…because at the moment when he had said it, they had felt anything but. Envy had been having a terrible day. The night before, they lost track of a man who had found out too much, and getting rid of him this morning had been a messy business as he had held himself up in his house. They spent hours cleaning the mess and almost didn’t make in time for their latest espionage mission. They refused call them dates. They were not dates. They may find this human humorous and tolerate his displays of affection, but they were not dates. Anyways, the mission had started off horrible. First, the wind had blown dirt into their eyes and in their hair as they passed by the exposed bank of the pond in the park. Then some goose had decided they meant bad news(which was not untrue) and chased them. And because humans were around, they had to let it do so. Then at the meal, the clumsy waiter had spilled tea on them. Envy had sworn they would make him pay later for his transgression, but it was quickly forgotten as the last straw of the night had followed their meal. As Hughes was walking them back to his “house” a car sped past the street, dousing them in muddy water.  They had stood there, full of rage as the cold, slimy substance dripped off of them. Their fists shook with fury as they tried with every ounce of self control they had not to transform their fist into their true form and chase down the car to destroy it. To add insult to injury, angry tears from trying to reign in their emotions stung in their eyes as they shook from the cold and pure rage. Oh no. This was not happening. They were not about to start crying in front of a human! They would rather die than let that happen. “Gracia!” Hughes said pulling his jacket off to try and use it to dry Envy off, “I’m sorry are you alright?” “AM I ALRIGHT?! WHAT DO YOU THINK?!“they snapped, almost letting their voice falter. Maes took a step back in surprise. "THIS DAY HAS BEEN AWFUL!"they ranted, "I’ve been publicly humiliated, had food dumped on me, and now this! I’M COVERED IN SHIT!” They extended their arms out for emphasis and huffed. Maes gave them a pitying look which Envy despised. How dare he look at them like that. They had half a mind to slap him for it. However, they were caught off guard when Maes suddenly moved forward to hug them. Envy was surprised for a moment before they began to try and escape his grip. “What are you-"they started but was cut off. "I’m sorry,” he said, “I know our date didn’t go as planned…I’ll try to make it up to you in the future, alright?” Envy relaxed slightly but said nothing. He was still annoyed with the gesture of affection but let it slide as the human was using it to apologize. Besides…he was fairly warm. “And just so you know,” he said brushing some of the muck from Envy’s face, “Mud or not, you’re still as gorgeous as ever.” Envy’s hands balled into fists. “Don’t patronize me,” they huffed. “No, I mean it,” Hughes said, turning their chin up so that Envy’s eyes met his own, “Your really are beautiful. It’ll take a lot more than a little dirt to make you any less wonderful to me.” Envy blinked in surprise, so shocked by this that they hadn’t even realised when Hughes had leaned down to meet their lips with his own. For once, they hadn’t minded the strange form of human affection. Envy shook their head in disgust at their own thoughts. What was wrong with them?! Were they really getting sentimental just because some human thought they looked good? This was ridiculous! What would Father say? He’d probably say they were acting like their good for nothing brother Greed. …Though they supposed that maybe there was nothing wrong with enjoying it a little. After all, Wrath hadn’t killed that floozy he picked up several years ago, so he was obviously enjoying her company, so why couldn’t Envy do so too? And They knew Lust enjoyed being pampered by the all the men she eventually broke the hearts of. Maybe they should just let themself enjoy the attention for now. Yeah. They liked this feeling of receiving such affection. They didn’t know what it was, but it made them feel good. Almost as good as killing a target did. Maybe even more…

[yespleasefandomtrash]

AlMei Week 2017 - Adventure/Home

Sorry for this later upload – things got in the way. But at least it's still on the correct day! This chapter is kind of a precursor of how things are going to play out in the final chapters, if that makes any sense. Anyways, I hope you enjoy Day 5: Adventure/Home. This chapter fits more with 'home.'

Read this chapter on fanfiction.net here.

Read Day 4 here.

xXxXxXx

A few days had passed since the discovery of the unique hair in the dried blood – neither of which matched or was even similar to that of Maes Hughes. Despite the moment of rejoicing that had brought, almost no progress had been made since then. DNA and hair were completely useless if there was nothing to compare them to. Edward was trying his best, but unfortunately he couldn’t just walk up to Neid and Luxure and politely ask them for DNA and hair samples.

Mei chuckled to herself. The obnoxious officer had said he would be completely on board to do that, but both she and Alphonse had advised against it. In the end, being so blunt wouldn’t really work in their favor. If anything, it would make getting samples even harder.

She took the coffee off the pot and poured it into a cup, mixing in only a little sugar. She’d preferred her coffee black for as long as she could remember – it dark and bitter, like how she felt at the end of every day. Such a thing was only too fitting.

She sighed as she headed to the main room and slowly sat on the couch, taking extreme care not to spill the hot liquid onto anything. The Xingese woman had been so tired lately. She assumed it was a mixture of performing an average of four autopsies a day – which really was sad when one thought about it – and stressing constantly over the Hughes case.

Mei knew they had to be close to catching the killer. And this time around, it wasn’t just her gut instinct telling her that. She’d started receiving more threatening letters, and after dusting the prints for herself and examining it under the microscope, she was able to determine that it matched not only the prints from other threatening letters but also the one found at the crime scene.

She cursed under her breath upon realizing she’d completely forgotten about checking Hughes’ body for latent prints. She’d have to do it first thing the next day. In fact, it’d probably be best if she arrived at the office early to spray the body before anyone got there...

She sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. It was late, and she’d been at the office all day. According to her watch it was almost midnight, meaning she had been up nearly 24 hours, since she’d been called around two that morning to report to a scene. That was why her coffee was decaf – she didn’t need to be staying up any later than necessary.

Her own yawn interrupted her thoughts, and the Xingese doctor considered dumping the rest of her coffee and just heading right to bed. For all she knew she’d be called out in less than an hour because someone had tripped and fallen into traffic, resulting in their untimely death.

Unfortunately, that had happened before.

Mei slowly got up from the couch and returned to the kitchen, emptying what was left of her coffee into the sink before rinsing the cup out. She started to head to her bedroom, but paused when something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

It was the letters.

After a moment of hesitation she picked them up, no longer caring about smudging prints or not. She was almost certain she’d gotten anything she could possibly get from them off already, so she considered herself free to handle them.

If you don’t learn to keep your nose out of other people’s business, Doc, there’ll come a day when you have to face the consequences.

You’re dancing awfully close to the fire. You planning to get burned?

Remember this, Doc: you’re never alone. And you never will be again.

You are going to die.

Mei hadn’t told Alphonse about the new letters. She knew he’d be furious and would probably go so far as to tell her to move out of her house, which she knew she could never do in a million years. He’d also take them a hundred times more seriously than her – she just wasn’t bothered by them.

Well... There was one letter. She’d only received it that morning, and for some reason it was getting to her in a way that the others weren’t. It was only two words:

Watch out.

Unlike the other few letters, it seemed to truly be hinting at something. Some sort of action. And she was absolutely terrified it was going to happen soon.

Mei shook herself, trying to get rid of the sinking feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t allow nerves to keep her up all night if she planned to report to her office early. She placed the letters back onto the counter and left the kitchen quicker than she’d care to admit.

She’d deal with it all tomorrow.

xXxXxXx

Mei was awakened by the smell of smoke slamming roughly into her nose and rapidly filling her lungs. Her eyes flew open only to find that dark, thick, ‘fog’ was creeping into her room from the crack underneath the door. Coughing, she jumped out of bed, mind reverting to autopilot strictly from the will to survive. Instinctively she pressed her hands to the door, only managing to keep them there for a second before jerking them away.

The heat was intense even through the door, which meant the fire was either started just outside of her bedroom or had spread there – and either way it was threatening to burn through the wood.

Her coughs grew faster and more the frequent. The Xingese woman knew she couldn’t stay in there much longer if she wanted to escape at least relatively unscathed. She hesitated before grabbing her phone off of her dresser and shoving it underneath her arm. Relieved her bedroom was on the first floor, she flung open her window and jumped out, running all the way to the edge of her yard before turning around. What she saw nearly made her heart stop.

Her entire house was on fire.

Flames appeared to be shooting out the windows, and black smoke was leaking out of places she didn’t think were possible. She could faintly smell the familiar stink of gasoline, and suspected that was the accelerant used to set her house ablaze as quickly as possible.

Watch out.

The words danced in her mind and spiraled right in front of her eyes. Alphonse had been right. She’d been a fool not to take those letters seriously.

Mei pinched her arm and snapped out of her reverie. She couldn’t dwell on what she could – should – have done. What was happening now was happening now, and that was something she had the power to change.

She dialed 911 into her phone, unable to stop herself from anxiously tapping her foot on the ground as she waited for the operator to pick up.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“My house is on fire.” The Xingese woman winced at how exhausted and scratchy her voice sounded. “I live at 1628 Willow Street. Please hurry.”

“I’m sending people your way immediately, ma’am. Is there any way you can somehow contain it?”

“No. I was lucky I woke up before it spread into my room.” She laughed, a strained laugh full of bitterness. “I’m not going to have a house after this.”

“Firemen and police officers are headed towards you, as well as paramedics just in case. I ask that you do not leave the immediate vicinity, ma’am.”

“Of course.” Mei hung up, her heart heavy. Everything. Everything was gone, or was going to be. Anything that made it through would have done so by a hair and would be rendered completely useless. She’d be lucky if the framework of her house was still standing at the end of this.

Out of the corner of her eye Mei noticed something sticking out of her mailbox. Frowning, she walked over to it, her burning home momentarily pushed to the back of her mind. She pulled it out, realizing it was an envelope.

“Oh no...”

Not caring whether she destroyed any prints or not, the Xingese woman practically ripped it open to get to what was inside, ignoring her gradually building nausea.

You continued to play with fire – and now you’ve gotten burned. Don’t say we didn’t warn you, Doctor. Soon you’ll be ashes like everything else.

Mei knew her face had to be white as a sheet. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to give up and yet she didn’t. How could she give the killer that satisfaction? The answer was simple – she couldn’t. And yet she still felt as if something had just been broken inside her. Something she wasn’t sure could ever be fixed.

Thankfully her attention was taken away from the letter when she heard sirens wailing, getting louder by the second. Before she knew it three firetrucks and several police cruisers were in her driveway. It was almost a blur as they hooked up their hoses to the fire hydrant and started dousing her home.

But what really distracted her were the strong arms that suddenly wrapped around her body.

“Mei,” Alphonse mumbled, burying his face in her messy hair. “I was so worried. But you’re alive.” He inhaled a shuddering breath. “Thank God you’re alive!”

Mei crumbled, turning and throwing her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest. Tears starting flowing, she knew they wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

And together they stood as the fire blazed, neither one daring to break away.

xXxXxXx

“And this is the one I found in my mailbox after – or during, I suppose – the fire.”

Mei watched Alphonse’s hands tremble in rage as he read the letter that had made her burst into sobs and not stop for what felt like years but couldn’t have been longer than twenty minutes.

“I swear,” he said, his fist clenching and crumpling the corner of the paper, “that I will kill whoever’s responsible for this with my bare hands.”

She gave him a soft smile. “That won’t be necessary. Locking them up in prison will do just fine.”

He sighed. “I don’t understand how you can be so calm about this. Mei, you’ve just lost everything. I hate to put it like that, but you know it’s true. And yet you don’t seem to be angry at all. If I didn’t know you so well, I’d say that you don’t even care.”

Mei shrugged. “I attribute part of it to exhaustion. It’s three in the morning and I only slept for a few hours before I was rudely awakened. It doesn’t help that shock is one hell of a drug.” She ran her hands through her hair. “I still haven’t come to terms with it, in all honesty.” She shook her head. “Tomorrow it’s going to slam me in the face. I already know it.”

Alphonse looked as if he wanted to say more, but stopped himself. “I understand. You should get some rest. I’ll –” His phone rang, interrupting him. He rolled his eyes before answering. “Yes?” He frowned. “You want me to – alright, alright. Fine.” He removed his phone from his ear and tapped the screen. “Alright, Ed. You’re on speaker.”

“I’ve got some good news and some bad news, I’m afraid. What do you want to hear first?”

Mei groaned. Just when she’d thought things couldn’t get any worse. “Get the bad news over with, please.”

“Alright. Tell me – were the photographs of Hughes’ case as well as any other paperwork relating to it lost in the fire?”

Her eyes widened, then shut in relief. “No. I left them at my office.”

“Is it possible that the person who burned your house down was not only targeting you but also the evidence gathered that could incriminate them?”

“I... I mean, it’s certainly possible, though I can’t say for sure –”

“That’s okay,” Edward interrupted, though his voice held no malicious intent. “I don’t need confirmation. I just need your agreement that it’s a possibility.”

Mei hesitated, then nodded, though she knew he couldn’t see her. “Yes. I agree that it’s a possibility. In fact, it’s likely it was a case of two birds with one stone.”

“I figured that, too. Now here’s the bad news – Yoki has been arrested. Or will be, anyways. Neid got a warrant and plans to arrest him early tomorrow morning at your office, Mei.”

Her face paled. “What?” She shook her head fervently. “That’s impossible! Yoki is innocent! How did Neid manage to falsify evidence so well he was able to convince a judge?!”

“I don’t know, Mei – but Neid’s been in the FBI for nearly fifteen years. He’s got a lot of experience under his belt.”

Mei groaned. “That’s not fair! Is there going to be a trial?”

“Not if Neid can help it. He’s undoubtedly going to at least try to convince Yoki to plead guilty. Probably gonna threaten him or something.”

Alphonse noticed how distraught this was making the Xingese woman, and decided it was time for a change of subject. “You said you also had some good news, Ed – what is it?”

“Oh yeah,” his brother said. “That’s right. I’m afraid I’m going to have to hold off on that a bit. I’m almost at your hotel. Another five minutes and I’ll be knocking on your door.” He chuckled. “I noticed you were Mei’s room, Al. Any particular reason –”

Alphonse immediately hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket, cheeks bright red. “I’m so sorry. Ed is such an idiot.”

Mei just shook her head, his words going in one ear and out the other. “I can’t believe Yoki is going to be arrested without any proof. And it’s my fault! If I’d just been a little faster with figuring everything out – with putting the pieces together – then maybe I could have prevented it. Our killer could be locked up right now if I’d just –”

Alphonse clamped his hand over her mouth, effectively silencing her. “Mei, I want you to listen to me. This is not your fault. Okay? You’ve worked harder and done more with this case than anyone else. Don’t undermine your efforts and make them seem less because of things that are out of your control. You’ve got the killer in your grasp – now all you’ve got to do is grab them.”

Mei chuckled. “Easier said than done.”

“Maybe, but you’ve got all the evidence you need. Almost everything you’ve gotten would hold up in a court and convict someone.”

She sighed. “I know. But the DNA samples and all those prints and that hair are completely useless at the moment because I don’t have anything to compare them to. I also forgot to check for latent prints on his body, so I need to do that first thing tomorrow morning.”

“And you can,” Alphonse interrupted her. “Though maybe not first thing in the morning. You need some rest. After Edward gives us whatever his ‘good news’ is, you’re going to bed. I don’t care what you say. You’ve had too long a night to be up any longer than you have to be.”

Mei wanted to argue, but decided against it. “Fine.”

“And I’m ordering that you don’t get out of bed until at least eight tomorrow.”

Now that was something she couldn’t agree to. “I can’t sleep until eight! Winry would be forced to open up everything on her own. I can’t do that to her. She’s already had to cover my shifts several times when I was out investigating the Hughes case.”

Alphonse sighed. “Fine. Seven o’ clock.”

Mei nodded, playing along, though she knew she would be getting up around five or six to head to her office. It was just that Alphonse didn’t need to be aware of that information.

A knock at the door started the two and caused both to jump slightly.

“Hey!” It was Edward. “What are you two lovebirds doing in there?”

Alphonse looked as if he wanted to strangle his brother as he stood and walked over to the door before unlocking it. “Your ‘good news’ better be worth all this talk you’re making us put up with.”

Edward laughed. “Oh, don’t worry – it is.” He stepped into the room, allowing Alphonse to shut the door behind him. “I have two bits of good news, actually. Hopefully that’ll make up for what you’ve had to go through this evening, Mei.” Edward’s eyes were heavy. He wasn’t an idiot – he knew no matter how good the news was it couldn’t change how much had been destroyed for the Xingese woman. Even so, if he could so much as lessen the burden by even a tiny bit, he wanted to do so.

Mei managed a laugh. “Is that so? What’s your good news, Edward?”

The older Elric sat down in the chair across from them. “The best news is that Winry and I have a date tomorrow. I’ll be picking her up from work and we’re going to go to a nice restaurant and have a grand time.”

Mei’s eyes widened. “Really?” She laughed again, this time with more energy. “I can’t believe you managed to snag Winry! Just so you know, Officer – Winry is way too good for you. I’m going to remind her of that every day. So you’d best tread lightly, understand?”

Edward mock-saluted her. “Roger that, Captain.”

“What’s the rest of your news?” Alphonse asked, not wanting to seem impatient but also not wanting the conversation to drag on too long. He wanted Mei to be able to get as much rest as possible.

“Well, it’s not as great about the fact that Winry and I are going on a date together, but...” He reached into his pocket pulled out four plastic bags, each with a label stuck near the top. “I may have managed to get DNA and hair samples from Luxure and Neid.”

Mei’s eyes widened as she snatched the bags from him, not caring that such actions could be perceived as rude. “No way!” She looked up at the two Elrics, eyes twinkling in excitement. “This is amazing! I can run tests tomorrow morning, and I think today – yesterday? – was the last day of prints being added in the system, so I can scan those for hits, and we might be able to –” She shook her head, unable to find the right words.

“You’ll be able to nab them tomorrow,” Edward agreed confidently. “I’ve been around Luxure and Neid a lot lately because I was trying to get these samples, right? Let’s just say I don’t like how they were acting. Maybe it’s personal bias, but their behavior was kind of shifty.”

“In what way?” Mei asked curiously.

“Their whole demeanors were already kind of odd,” the older brother explained. “Neither talked to many people, and if they did, it was concise and either really arrogant or simplistic. I’m sure you can figure out which of them acted in what way.” He frowned. “They mostly hung around each other, in all honesty. I get the feeling they’ve known each other for a long time.” He snapped his fingers as he was reminded of something. “I almost forgot!” He reached into a different pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I got an FBI profiler to give us a basic idea of what our killer may look like and what their past could consist of.” He handed it to his brother. “You read it, Al. I’ve gone over it so many times my mind’s completely numb.”

Alphonse unfolded the paper. “White male. Late twenties to early thirties. Likely has a past history of violence but on a smaller scale. An emotionally troubled person. Both verbally and physically abusive family.” He continued to read off traits for another five minutes or so before placing the paper in his lap when he was finished. “While this list is definitely a realistic list of your typical serial killer, I don’t think that’s what we’re dealing with right now.”

Mei nodded. “There’s a chance some of those qualities could apply to him, but as a whole it just doesn’t sound right.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Edward agreed. “But when I asked the profiler to try to create a different profile aligning a bit more with some of the ideas we’ve gathered, he refused, saying it was pointless.” He rolled his eyes. “I disagreed, of course, but I couldn’t pressure him. I’m only a guest on the FBI campus, after all.”

“Even so, it’s still information I think we can use to some extent,” Mei said. “So it wasn’t a total loss.”

“Some is better than none,” Alphonse added.

The three talked for a few minutes before Edward decided to take his leave. Soon it was just Alphonse and Mei in the room again.

“I want you to get some sleep, alright?” Alphonse said, crossing his arms. “If you need me I’ll be in the room across the hall.”

Mei yawned in response, already feeling tiredness overcome her. “Fine. But you need to get sleep, too – understand?”

He chuckled. “I think I can work with that.”

xXxXxXx

Hopefully this chapter wasn't a disappointment. It was interesting for me to write – and we finally got a real AlMei-type moment! Yay! Anyways, I hope you return tomorrow for Day 6: AU-Crossover/Early Mornings!