#falman is really the only normal guy

[jilly-jelly-bizy]

[hawkeyedflame]

Can we also acknowledge that Havoc virtually blue-balled Lust because she only started dating him so she could get insider knowledge on their plans and he never told her jack-squat? A weaker man would brag about top-secret materials to his lady friend, but a stud like Havoc just wastes a bitch’s time and efforts.

HONESTLY roy really picked his team so well. to a man, every single one of them is different from the persona they project. havoc seems like a lumbering idiot who could be easily enticed into spilling secrets, but in fact he is quick-thinking and tight-lipped. his biggest draw may be that he's capable and efficient muscle in the field, but his unique appeal to roy is that he's clever and staunchly loyal.

breda looks like an unassuming lazy lug who cares about food and doing the bare minimum. nobody suspects he's incredibly clever and strategic, capable of working in the shadows and moving people remotely while keeping his involvement discreet.

fuery looks like a shy, gentle little nerd with a weird fixation on technology, but he is in fact a master of covert communications, surprisingly fearless in the field and is always thinking ahead. his preparedness gets the team out of tight situations.

falman honestly. his appeal is that he looks like an average dude who just, works. he's not strong, he's not outspoken. he just seems like a normal, reserved guy. that's his advantage. he's incredibly intelligent, a veritable repertoire for political and historical knowledge. but he's so unassuming that nobody suspects he could play a hand in greater schemes 'cause he's just A Dude. it gives him the freedom to move around without arousing suspicion.

and we know all about riza.

roy really deserves more credit for picking his team. and for playing the part of the lazy CO whose unit's studious toil is the real reason behind his rapid ascent through the ranks. they all play the role wordlessly, seamlessly, with complete faith in one another that their plans will work. and they're right. roy relies on them heavily, it's true, but not for any of the reasons that people think. and that's by design. and they do it so well, because roy picked the right people. because roy is good at people.

[flyinbanachab]

Comfortember 26: Junk Food

"How are things out west?" The first few times Falman had asked Breda this question, he'd been able to do it it sitting down, or leaning casually against the desk. Now, he spent these phone calls pacing up and down the little office, as far as the cord would stretch.

"Oh, just fuckin peachy," Breda groused. "They haven't let me off base in two weeks."

Read on AO3 or...

So this line wasn't secure. Falman felt a little queasy at that; keeping Breda on a tighter leash was a bad sign for all of them. What did they know? What did they suspect?

Breda continued, burying the information in a rant: "And the food on base is fuckin atrocious. They really can't spare me long enough to go to the goddamn convenience store? Fuckin ridiculous. Not to mention we're getting our asses handed to us. They're calling in reinforcements from Essler."

Falman sucked in a breath. "They need more?" More blood for the transmutation circle. More lives. How many people were being sacrificed, this very minute? Too many.

"Yeah. We're down to a skeleton crew here." Breda cleared his throat. "How's things up north?"

"Good, actually." Falman felt a stab of guilt. Just luck of the draw that sent him to the conspirator's corner, rather than the front lines. Would that they were all here, together. "The general's training us hard," in preparation for the spring invasion, Breda would understand, "but at least it keeps us warm!"

"Heh." It was not a laugh so much a forced exhalation.

"Breda. Are you... alright?"

A silence so long Falman thought he'd been hung up on.

And when Breda finally replied,

"Sure."

The word was so flat, so hollow, so--defeated. That's not Breda. Even in the worst of times,  Breda's exasperated, furious, ironic, but never--defeated. Falman’s blood ran cold at the thought. Are things really that bad? The plan IS coming together. Isn't it? Yeah, it's bad out west, scary down south, but... Spring, right? 

"Hey..." Falman ventured, but he's not sure what else to say. "Uh. Hang in there."

"Yeah."

Breda does hang up then, leaving Falman staring at the receiver, worrying, until a hand on his shoulder startled him back to the fort. Doc was looking at him with mild concern. He'd much rather see her smiling, so he hung up and composed himself.

"Hey," she said. "Weather's cleared up so they're making a run into town. You can catch the bus if you hurry."

"Oh! Thank you!" He automatically took a long stride toward the door, then turned back to her. "You coming?"

She smiled that cheeky smile that made his heart skip. "Of course! Who knows when I'll get another chance?"

They walked side by side down the hall. Normally this fact would completely consume his attention, but all he could think about was Breda, implicit prisoner of West HQ,  ... defeated.

---

Breda twined the phone cord around his fingers while he waited for Karley to retrieve Falman. This call was unscheduled, so a wait was no surprise. Still, they could hurry the fuck up.

He eyed the box on the desk with suspicion.

"Falman." He sounded concerned, which only made sense, considering Breda was no in the habit of making unscheduled calls. 

"Hey bud. You send me a package, by chance?" It claimed to be from him, sure, but no way in hell Breda was about to crack the lid on a mystery box without confirmation. He wasn’t born yesterday.

Falman breathed a sigh of relief over the line, and when he spoke, he sounded sightly embarrassed.

"Oh, uh, yes I did! Sorry I didn't warn you, it was, uh, kind of an impulse."

Okay, well, this was a first. What in the world? Breda pulled out his pocket knife and popped the twine. 

"Oh you don't need to open it right now,--" definitely embarrassed. 

"Obviously I do," he smirked, digging through the packing paper to find-- food. Prepackaged snack food, a whole damn box full. It had to be every single kind you could get, that far up north. A coded message?

Breda dug through the box. "Hey, you got good taste.” Not a dud in the bunch. But it didn’t make sense. This was nothing even remotely similar to any of their systems.

"What's the occasion?" Breda asked. "I don't see a note." What he meant, and what Falman would know he meant, was, 'What’s the code? I don't get it.'

A long pause. Breda could hear Falman blushing.

"No note. Just a-- just a care package. On the phone last, you sounded..."

Breda cringed. He knew how he'd fucking sounded; he'd been kicking himself ever since. No reason to take it out on Falman like that, guy had enough to deal with.

"... claustrophobic," Falman finished, politely. "I know, it's silly, but I thought... you know, since you can’t get out..."

Just a care package. Just a-- it occurred to him then, probably every single one of these goddamn snacks, Falman remembered him eating before. He sat down abruptly.

Falman, you goddamn considerate son of a bitch. How fucking dare you remind me that we’re still in this together.

"Breda? Are you-- still there?"

"Yeah. Thanks." 

He hung up and wiped his eyes. 

[aquietwritingcorner]

Whumptober 2020 Day 3: Running Out of Time—Caged/Buried Alive/Collapsed Building Word Count: 1480 Author: Katie/Ally (aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl)   Rating: T Characters: Vato Falman Summary: Falman really does get the worst assignments.   Notes: If I had been a very diligent writer, I’d have looked up some science/math stuff about how fast air runs out. I am not that diligent of a writer, it seems.

 Quantity of Air

 Air took up space. That was a fact. It was one of many facts that Vato Falman knew. Air took up space, and anything that took up space had a quantity to it. That was another fact that he knew. Normally the quantity of air was not something that Falman thought about, beyond the fact that it was, well, a fact. Air was, typically, in plentiful supply. The quality of the air could easily be in question, but it was, still, there, and typically plentiful. There were only a few situations where one had to worry about the quantity of air that they had.

Which, unfortunately, was the type of situation Falman found himself currently in.

Despite being in the military, patrols had never been Falman’s favorite part of duties. In fact, most of the duties that were required he didn’t really care for. He did them because, well, they were his duty. Every so often he got assigned a duty that he enjoyed. His favorite, by far, had come from then-Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, who had ordered him to go read books on any and every subject he could in the library every Thursday. That had been back when he had worked for the man for a brief period of time and it had been his favorite duty. He had looked forward to those days. He had thought that his least favorite duty had been when he was babysitting Barry the Chopper. That assignment had been days of awful and it had ended awfully. Honestly, there was only one way that whole situation could have ended worse, and that was if someone (aside from Barry) had actually died. And while that duty still ranked up there in terms of his worst duties, it turned out, there were other equally as bad duties.

And Falman was pretty sure they all existed at Briggs.

Patrol was one of the duties that they all rotated in and out of. Not everything that happened at Briggs happened in the fort. The fort was the main hub up this far, farther north than even Northern Command, but there were still plenty of places to patrol, and outposts that needed supplies. (He wasn’t entirely certain that he wouldn’t mind an assignment to an outpost. You sit in a cabin all day long, warm and cozy, and watch for signs of Drachma. He was sure there was other unpleasantness to it, but still, it didn’t sound half bad). Every so often everyone took a turn going on patrol to in the mountains and going on supply missions to the cabins. It was, it seemed, a routine mission, despite Falman having been warned not to treat anything in the Briggs Mountains as routine.

There may have been something to that.

It was clear from the moment it came in sight, that something had happened at this outpost. The cabin itself looked like there had been a fight, with an open and busted up door, windows that were cracked and falling, and signs in the snow of fighting. The soldier who was supposed to be there was nowhere to be found, either, and, beyond the signs of a fight, there were no clues as to what had happened to him. All of this was very concerning, and the team had fanned out to search for him. Falman, being the new guy and therefore inexperienced, was ordered to stay at the cabin in case the soldier—or someone or something else—came back. Nervously, Falman did so, although he was more than a little worried about the someone or something else that could come back. The only good parts was that the cabin provided some shelter from the biting wind.

He never should have let his guard down.

That protection had been a false promise. There had been a loud booming somewhere above him and the sound of the other men yelling. Falman had turned to look, only to look in horror as an avalanche of snow came his way. An although he had a plethora of facts about avalanches and what you were supposed to do if you were caught in one in his head, there was no time to work through them. The best he could do was to duck back inside the cabin and brace himself.

The next few minutes had been disorienting to say the least, with sounds and snow and force and cold and movement, and when things had finally settled down, he was in darkness, with a great weight pressing down on his legs, the rest of him free. It was dark, too dark to see, and he tried to work his way loose. But when he tried to move too much, there was an ominous creaking around him, and he stopped, not sure exactly what that meant, but having some pretty decent guesses. He still had his pack on, and he had managed to get to his tender, and lit a match, hoping to see, well, something hopefully.

The light didn’t improve his situation any.

He was still in the cabin. Only, the cabin wasn’t all there. It was mangled and partially (mostly?) collapsed around him. He himself was stuck under a mix of fallen in cabin and avalanche snow. The only upside he could see to this, was that he had a longer time to wait for a rescue, because he had more air then if he’d been in a small pocket. But that wasn’t really much of an upside. Especially when he could calculate about how much air he’d have and about how long of a time span that might be.

It was enough to make him want to panic, which would really not help the situation in the slightest. Instead, he started a countdown in his head and did everything he could to reduce the amount of oxygen he would be using. He tried to free his legs, again, for a moment, but they were stuck tight, and digging them out, he figured, would cost more air then it was worth. So, instead he laid there.

He turned on no light, because that would also use up oxygen.

He didn’t try to free himself because that would use up oxygen.

He did move too much, because that would use up more oxygen.

He didn’t cry out, or cry, or scream, because that would use up more oxygen.

Instead, Falman laid very, very still and very, very quiet, listening for the sounds of what might be a rescue, and not entirely sure that he believed that one would come.

And in his head, he counted down the time until he ran out of breathable air.

He wished he could say that he lost track of time, but he knew exactly how long he had been laying under that snow. He knew that his time was dwindling, and that he only had about five minutes left. He was already feeling lightheaded and dizzy, when he heard what sounded like the sounds of scraping or footsteps. He shook himself more awake, forced himself to be more aware, and listened again.

It was people! But Briggs, or Drachma? Then again, did it really matter as long as he was alive? No, not in his book. He only had a little air left, though. He had no idea if they could see this half-collapsed cabin in the snow or not. He only hand a little air left. If they passed him by—

Well, he’d be dead before they came back. Might as well try to get their attention, even if it would use up what oxygen he had left faster.

Falman opened his mouth, took in a breath, and tried to channel the energy of Breda freaking out of Hayate. “Help!” he yelled. “Help! Help, I’m trapped! Help me!”

It was hard to hear anything when he was yelling, and the extra lack of oxygen was making him dizzy. But this was his last shot, and he knew it. He yelled out again, anyway, hoping, praying for a response or for someone to hear him. Mercifully, there was a shout back, and even in Amestrian.

“Hang on! We’ll get you out!”

He was getting dizzier. He needed to let them know how dire the situation was. “Hurry!” he shouted back. “I think… I’ve only got a couple of minutes of air!”

There was a pause, and then the digging seemed to intensify as suddenly what sounded like several people were above him. He could hear orders being shouted, and reassurances being called to him.

Falman laid his head back down. It was still dark. He was still cold. He only had a couple of minutes of air left. But he was going to be rescued, and that meant, if nothing else, he hadn’t failed the Colonel. With a sigh of relief, Falman relaxed, and waited.

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 13

I’m back! Took a little break to watch Rebellion, mostly recovered from that so I can return to watching this light-hearted tale of whimsy and hahaha no. Onwards with Brotherhood!

Episode 13 - “Beasts of Dublith” Izumi’s talking about Ed seeing “it” and surviving. Ooh, do we get info on Truth this episode? [Izumi]: “Regardless, I can’t accept the decision you made. You’re expelled.” What?! Teacher turns away, tells them to get on a train. Ed just bows and thanks her for everything. ...wow, I’d forgotten how hard this show can hit. Huh, same intro? I thought this was the halfway point of the season, don’t animes usually switch things up at this point? ...at the very least, I’d like them to change the into so I don’t have to see Hughes again at the beginning of each episode YES I’M STILL BITTER. Sig’s seeing them off at the station, saying they should drop by if they’re ever in town again. Sorry buddy, but I don’t thin- [Sig]: “You idiots! You’re so busy pouting you can’t see what your expulsion means; You aren’t her students anymore, so now you’re finally free to speak to Izumi as equals!” Oh. Ohhhh. Ok, so that was her way of ‘graduating’ them. I can see it. [Sig]: “Unless, of course, you’re too chicken to try it.” Suddenly Ed facepalms? There’s something you forgot to do? I thought the point of the trip was to visit your old Teacher. [Sig]: “Don’t let her kill you.” ...Gee, thanks for the advice. Ed gets back to the butcher shop GAH good thing Ed’s quick enough to duck knives. Izumi is not happy to see him again. But the Elric Brothers say that they’ve come looking for a way to get their bodies back, and that they are staying. A staredown commences.

Izumi… relents? Huh, I thought she would have kept this up until you stopped calling her Teacher. Time to talk about “the Truth”! Al didn’t see it, doesn’t even really know what it means. Izumi says he lost his memory from the shock… oh! Yeah, if the cost of what Ed saw was his leg, for Al to lose his entire body as the “toll”? Oh good grief you two, stop talking about how “awful” and “horrifying” it was, you’re scaring the kid. Izumi’s got a lead in an acquaintance who might be able to retrieve the memory. But first, dinner! Eavesdropper! We’ve got a Gollum taking a peek in the window, confirming that Ed can transmute human souls. Oh wow that’s a tail, is this guy part-Gecko? Back at Eastern Command, some old guy with bifocals is playing chess with Roy, expositing that he’s transferring in one week. (Subtitles say) General Grumman is giving the standard platitudes of “it won’t be the same without you”, “I got to relax thanks to your hard work”, ect ect. Hmm, noting that his glasses are consistently shiny, not a good sign. Ooh, that was a flinch, and yup, checkmate. Good job Roy! Grumman plays it off as a “going away gift”, Roy presses this charitable mood. Hello there, Master Sergeant Kain Fuery. Gotta be honest here, I’m still holding the loss of Fuhrer Fury against you, here’s hoping you can be a good enough character to overcome that bias. We’ve also got Warrant Officer Vato Falman, Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc-

No, not that Jean. And First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye as well. Seems that Roy’s added them to his own transfer, they’ll join him in Central. No objections! [Havoc]: “I’ve got a problem, sir. See, I just started dating this girl and I really like her.” [Roy]: “Dump her.” Wow. Remind me not to go to Roy for relationship advice. What is it you see in this guy again, Riza? Cut to some dude working out with a crude dumbbell. Oh hey it’s Scar! How’s it going buddy? Apparently he’s not supposed to be working out, the Ishvalan kid Rick chides him for aggravating his wounds. He opens the tent for someone else, and Scar looks shocked? [Scar]: “Master!” Ooh, a parallel episode! The Elrics and Scar working with their old teachers! I like these! Master’s talking with Scar now, saying he knows that his student’s been targeting State Alchemists. But regardless of their crimes, such vengeance will only cause further violence. Senseless revenge, feeding a fruitless cycle of death? Man this Master pulls no punches. He tells Scar to end this cycle once and for all- Suddenly two non-Ishvalans poke their heads into the tent, identify Scar and start talking about a bounty. Uh oh. Either Scar’s gonna ignore his Master, or we’ll find out why this guy is called Master even in the subtitles. Third guy is hiding behind some rubble, Ishvalan bystanders yell at Yoki for bringing bounty hunters. Man, another whiny Elric antagonist? Oh yeah, I’m sure that you’ll “rise up” and take your revenge. Total faith in you buddy. Off-topic, do you mind telling me when you plan to face them? I want to know when so I can sell tickets I mean show my support. Scar realizes that he’ll only bring more trouble, however irritating, if he stays there. Yyyyeah, you bounty hunters had no idea who you were messing with. One dismembering and face-grab later, Scar doesn’t even bother with Yoki, just dons sunglasses once more.

Master tries one more guilt-trip (“Your brother would be sad”), we get a dramatic zoom at Scar’s tattooed arm. Scar just says it’s too late to turn back now, and walks off.

Al’s sweeping outside the butcher shop when a ball of paper’s thrown at his feet. A note from Gecko-Man, Bido? Oh wow a place called “Devil’s Nest”, I’m sure it’s a quite reputable business. Some guys sniffs and jumps down to join Bido and a lady in the street, to greet Al as he walks up. A meeting? Ooh, did you guys try to blackmail Al? This can only end well. Nose-Man (Dolcetto) tries to get Al to come with them, one “Ooh, I’m just a widdle kid” act later… Uh oh! So while Dolcetto went down like a punk, Tatoo-Lady (Martel) took the advantage to get inside Al’s armor, slow him down for an older guy (Roa) to show up for a turn and wrestle the armor to the ground. [Al]: “You people aren’t human, are you?” No, really? What gave it away, the guy with a giant gecko tail? [Greed]: “Good guess! They’re Chimeras… And they happen to work for me.” Wait, Greed? Aw crap it’s another Goth! The Terminator from the intro, no less! So Al’s in some sort of basement now, Martel still keeping him controlled from inside the armor while Greed is starting some sort of pitch. So wait, how is Greed connected to the rest of the Goths? I can see he has the Uroboros tattoo on his hand like the others, but I’m getting a different vibe from him. Al asks what they really are, they can’t be Chimera’s because the only “talking Chimera” we’ve seen before was something I really don’t want to remember. Greed just says to not believe everything the government says. Martel’s part-snake, Roa was… cow? Ok. Throw in a lizard (still gonna call him gecko), a crocodile, and a dog. Man, Dolcetto’s not having a good time this episode. As for how these Human-Chimeras are possible, Greed says that they were created by the military. But he’s even more uncommon than they are: he’s a Homunculus. Wait, a Homunculus? Are you sure you’re using the right term there? I can understand Chimera, a mix of species, but my understand of Homunculi is that they’re mini-humans, basically familiars. Oh ok, so apparently the definition of a Homunculus in Brotherhood is a more general “artificially created human”. Flashback to Baby!Elrics studying alchemy, raising the point that yeah that’s Human Transmutation isn’t it? Al is really upset by this claim, saying that it’s just an unproven theory. So Greed says he’ll prove it SWEET LETO WHAT THE TRUTH ok Roa just went Thor on Greed’s skull, the corpse falls. But Al barely has time to ask what the heck that was for when the body raises a hand in a “wait a moment” gesture, and red sparks fly as Greed reforms good as new. Huh. So we’ve already know that the Goths are hard to put down (knife to the forehead), but to completely regenerate after your brain is splattered? Yeah, this is gonna be tough. So, back to why they’ve captured Al? Oh, that’s why? Sure Greed’s got a body that can recover from normally fatal injuries, but he still “dies”. Meanwhile, he’s got a moving, talking suit of armor right here! A body that never dies… Now this is really interesting, looking at two concepts of immortality: a regenerating organic form, or an unchanging metal form. Transhumanism, ho! Still, I don’t think that this is a form of “immortality” that you want, Greed. You want the finer things in life? Get yourself stuck in armor like Al, and you lose your sense of touch and taste. And you don’t strike me as the kind of guy who’s willing to give those up. Greed’s pushing to know how Al got his soul in the armor, Al truthfully says that he can’t remember how and that it wasn’t him who did it. So Greed’s gonna have to talk to the original caster. [Ed]: “Now where’d a seven-foot tall suit of armor run off to?” Bido tries to make Ed pay to know where his brother is. Bido gets used to open the basement door. Al tells Ed that Greed’s a Homunculus (“Hey! Way to ruin it.”), and that he might be able to help them with their body problem. But Greed shows off his Uroboros tattoo, which he has to know that Ed recognizes. Greed says that “they don’t talk much anymore.” A falling out? Greed makes his pitch: He’ll teach them how to make a Homunculus (to transfer their souls to?), if they teach him how to transfer a soul. “Classic equivalent exchange.” EEC: 8 Finally, I get to update that count! Given how much the phrase made Tephi snicker I thought I’d be hearing it more often, best I can tell the last time was… ugh, Tucker. Moving on. Well of course you don’t understand why Al would want his body back, Greed. You don’t know the limitations. [Greed]: “You’re joking, right? You don’t need to eat, you don’t need to sleep, you don’t even need to use the toilet! Sounds great to me!” Yup. Ed’s pissed. Greed can only applaud his monologue. There you go Dolcetto, go ahead and get Worfed. But Greed puts up much more of a fight, going into the terminator mode from the intro, blocking all of Ed’s attacks as an Ultimate Shield. So Ed’s basically fighting MGR’s Armstrong, then? “Homunculus, son!” [Greed]: “Oh. You’re one of those guys. You don’t care if someone beats the crap out of you, but if someone lays a hand on a family member you completely freak out. What a waste… you lose your temper like this and you’re gonna lose my information and your brother.” But Ed thinks he still has a chance. Until Greed shows that he was holding back so he didn’t have to cover up his pretty face. Sig’s found the dropped broom, evidence that the boys have gone missing. Because Leto forbid they skip out on their chores and invoke Izumi’s wrath. A passerby says they were seen going into a bar called the Devil’s Nest. In said bar, Ed is [SUFFERING IN PAIN], literally breaking his automail on Greed and getting thrown around. But he has a plan? Oh yeah, Alchemy! He shorts out Greed’s Ultimate Shield to bust up his organic hand, Greed grows it back quickly and remarks that that was bizarre. Another attack, and stalagmites to the chest! Chemistry for the win! Since Greed told Ed that he was human, Ed knew that a third of his body was made of carbon. He figured that Greed was using that to make his shield, just rearranging the atoms. So all Ed had to do was rearrange them right back, graphite instead of diamond. Alright! Big Letodamn Hero entrance by Izumi! Who throws a mook at Ed and yells at him for not putting the broom away. [Greed]: “Oh give me a break. Don’t tell me you’re going to try and start anything, lady. It’s no fun fighting a woman.”

Time for Housewife Beatdown! *credits* ...Damn it! 

[schrijverr]

Professor Elric?

After The Promised Day Edward is sent on a miliary mission to Hogwarts where he will teach Alchemy to his students. He is told not to interfere with their business, but he has a hard time not getting involved with this weird Voldy prick.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

Chapter 7 out of 10.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost Christmas break and the fifth year Alchemy class filtered into the classroom. Most could now make an element different shapes, but all struggled with changing elements.

They were waiting for Mister Elric, which was strange, because the man was usually on time and already waiting for them, even when they had him first in the morning. When asked about it he told them he did exercises before breakfast, which everyone found horrifying.

They heard a curse coming from Mister Elrics room and the a thunk against the door that was followed by another curse. The class exchanged some looks and in the end it was Dean who was brave enough to walk to the door and knock. He said: “Mister Elric, are you there? Do you need help?”

“Oh, you’re already there?” came Mister Elrics surprised reply, then he said, “Can you open the door for me, my hand’s full.”

“Uh, sure, no problem.” Dean said, as he turned to give the class a confused look, it was mirrored right back at him.

He opened the door and there Mister Elric was. He had discarded his usual vest and shirt for a plain black T-shirt. In his left hand he held a big box, but his right, his right arm was gone. He put the box on the table and some of the students shrieked. He looked at them with wide startled eyes and asked: “What’s wrong?”

Neville squeaked: “Sir, your right arm is gone.”

He looked at his right arm and said: “Yeah, so?”

“That’s not natural, sir.” Dean exclaimed, “Did you go to Madam Pomfrey? Are you cleared? What happened?”

A look of comprehension crossed over his face and it was soon exchanged for apologetic. He said: “Sorry about that, I forgot you guys didn’t know, everyone back home knows. I haven’t had a right arm since I was eleven. It’s totally fine, I have automail. I already wrote my mechanic, so I should get a new arm when I go home over the holidays.”

Hermione raised her hand before saying: “How did you lose it again? And what’s automail?”

“Oh, did you guys know that your forest has gigantic aggressive spiders that want to eat you?” he said.

And that was Nevilles cue to faint, he had already been looking quite unwell since Mister Elrics appearance without an arm. Mister Elric rushed forward and checked him over. “Nothing is wrong, he’s fine.” he then grabbed his coat and used it as a pillow for the boy as he laid him in a more comfortable position.

He was sure he would wake up soon, so he just let him be. He then turned back to the class and asked: “Does no one here know what automail is?”

He got a negative back from the class and looked surprised. “What do you do then when someone loses a limb?”

“Uhm, a prosthetic made of wood or plastic. Kind of hard to move with from what I heard.” Dean told him.

“That seems useless.” Mister Elric said, “Well, since Winry would murder me if I didn’t educate you on automail I will tell you a bit about it. It’s a mechanical replacement for your limbs, you’ll get a port inserted in your flesh and with that you new automail limb will be connected to your nerves. You don’t need a outside power source, since it’s powered by the electric pulses your body gives off to operate it. Although it is painful to get it installed and it’s heavy and hard to get used to, it’s almost like getting your limb back.”

“What does it look like?” Draco said and he quickly added, “If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, I don’t mind. Winry is the best mechanic in the world. If you’re ever in need of a limb go to the Rockbell Prosthetic Limb Outfitters! I can show you my leg, it’s more intact than the arm at the moment.” He grinned at his own comment.

The rest of the class was trying to comprehend that Mister Elric wasn’t just missing an arm, but also a leg and that he had been out in the forbidden forest and he had apparently fought spiders and lost his arm again.

Mister Elric himself meanwhile had stripped of his left boot and was currently rolling up his trouser leg. Under it wasn’t normal flesh like they had expected, but an intricate machine of metal and wires that formed a leg, with feet and even toes. Mister Elric proudly held up his leg and wiggled his toes. In that moment he looked more like a seventeen year old than he had this whole year.

When everyone had seen his leg he put his boot back on without tying his laces. Then he turned serious again and said: “Well, that’s enough excitement for one day, don’t you think? Let’s go back to transmuting one element into another.”

He could have predicted the rumors that spread after, especially when he just casually showed up to the Great Hall with one arm to eat lunch and later dinner.

But Hermione soon forgot everything about that, because her Christmas turned quite hectic when Mister Weasley is bitten by a snake and rushed to St. Mungo’s in critical condition.

~

“Could you hurry up?”

“I would if you’d just stay still, Ed.” Winry replied,  “How did you even lose your arm again?”

“It’s not my fault no one told me the forest was forbidden and it had gigantic man-eating spiders in it.” Ed huffed, before he was cut of by pain from his shoulder.

Winry made a face as she moved on to the next nerve to reconnect. “Iew” she said, “Do those really exists?”

“It’s probably called forbidden for a reason, brother.” Al commented as he passed on his way to the kitchen.

“Shut up, Al. Apparently they’re only found in that forest, but yeah. They’re real.” Ed  said through gritted teeth.

“Winry wiped her hands on her pants and said: “Well, I’m done. Try not to ruin my beautiful automail again.”

“I will don’t worry, sheesh.” Ed waved her away.

She gave him a concerned look and asked: “Are you really okay there? You must miss home.”

He shrugged and said: “I do, but it’s good for me, I think. I like teaching a lot more than I anticipated, but I do wonder how they got so far with how little they know and understand.”

“Just because you’re a genius, doesn’t mean everyone else is dumb, brother.” Al called from the kitchen door as he came in carrying some tea.

Edward gratefully excepted and smiled as his brother took a cup as well, it was great to see Al drink again. Then he replied to his brother: “Not just that, they think Alchemy is magic, which is disgusting, honestly. Besides that, they don’t even know what automail is, how can they live without it?”

Winry gasped: “They don’t know automail?”

“Yeah, they don’t. Everyone was completely horrified when I showed up without an arm that last week. I had to explain automail, I don’t even know much about automail!” he said, horrified for her sake, which she appreciated.

“Hopefully, you didn’t give me a bad name.” she accused, playfully, but with a serious undertone.

He raised his hand in surrender and said: “I didn’t I swear, please don’t pick up your wrench.”

“Okay, I believe you.” she laughed, and she honestly did. When she had been introduced to people Ed and Al had met over their journey almost all had recognized her as ‘that great mechanic he’d talked about’, he had been out there fighting for his life, but still giving her a good name.

When it had quieted down a bit Al asked: “When are you going to central to give General Mustang your report?”

“Well, since he’s coming over for Winter Fest anyway, he told me that I didn’t have to come all the way to Central Command, but I could tell him all after or during dinner.” Ed told them.

“Really, brother, that’s great!” Al exclaimed.

“Yeah, it is.” he said, “Hey, did Ling and Mei respond if they’re coming and has teacher told you which train they’re taking?”

“No not yet, but she did say she would come early and I didn’t hear from Ling, but Heinkel and Darius are coming and Mei said she’ll be here as well.” Al informed him.

“That’s great! When are we going shopping? I know we’re going to need a lot of food.”  Ed said with a smile.

It really was great that those two had met so many amazing friends over the years and that they were all willing to come and spend the Winter Fest in such a small town as Risembool.

~

There had been a lot of commotion and a lot of days spend in the kitchen, but in the end everyone was sitting peacefully around the table. They were with fifteen people total: Edward, Alphonse, she herself and Granny, Heinkel and Darius, Mei, Havoc, Breda, Kain, Falman, Hawkeye and Mustang and Izumi with Sig. Ling had send his and Lan Fans apologies, but they were too busy in Xing and couldn’t make it.

All were eating and laughing with each other and it reminded Winry of how different it used to be when Ed and Al were still looking for a way to get their bodies back. Just two years ago she had spend the Fest with just Grandma and an empty table. So much had changed.

The next morning they said goodbye to most of their guests and just Mustang and Hawkeye remained.

~

They were sitting comfortably by the fire. It was already evening and they were drinking tea to calm their stomaches, which were filled with the leftovers from yesterdays Fest. Finally Mustang leaned back and said: “So, Fullmetal, how have the Wizards been treating you?”

Edward shrugged and said: “Pretty good, but man are they incompetent. There is this Dark Wizard dude, who named himself Voldemort, don’t ask, but no one says his name, cause they’re scared so they just call him You-know-who, which is really confusing if you don’t know. Anyway, he’s been gathering followers in the shadows, from what I gathered and he wants to restart a war a baby ended years ago. It’s really confusing, but this baby was apparently protected, because magic. The Ministry, aka the government, is denying he exists.”

“That sounds confusing.” Mustang said.

“It is, but I feel like you’re still following me. I explained it better in the letters.” Edward replied with a shrug.

“Yeah, you did. You also complained a lot about this Umbridge person, who you creatively refer to as Umbitch, which I have to correct in each report.” Mustang said sufferingly.

Edward grinned at that and said: “Must suck to be you, General Bastard.”

After that Edward just laid down the facts efficiently. If there were magic folks in Amestris they wouldn’t know and it wouldn’t fall under Hogwarts. Magic was dangerous, it didn’t abide the rules of Alchemy and you could kill with a word. Wizards themselves weren’t so dangerous, they didn’t have an army of any other form of violent task force, just Aurors, but those were more police not men of war. They had cut down violently on rebellions in the past, but only by those they considered less, which was quite a list that Edward didn’t agree with. He had also read up on house-elves at Hermione's recommendation and he had been horrified.

In the end Mustang concluded: “So and allegiance would be useful just because of how powerful magic is, but the people themselves or on the brink of war and not that competent.”

“If I’m honest,” Edward said, “we should probably wait with an allegiance, if we ever make one, until they’re done with their fight. We are just starting to make peace and the last thing we need is to be sucked into a war we’re not a part of. I’m willing to finish this year and to see how it goes, but I feel like there isn’t all that much more to discover there.”

Winry looked at them from the door, she often missed the brash teenager and confident child. She especially did when he was being so seriously, talking strategies for war and politics. He had tried the easy country life, she knew he’d tried. He had been here while Alphonse got back on his feet, literally, and helped around in the shop, but they both realized this wasn’t for him.

He wasn’t made to for this life, he was made for adventure and trying to fix the mistakes he knew his country had made. She knew that, she also knew that Alphonse wouldn’t stay forever. He was almost as good as new and she had seen him look at maps and read the Alkahestry books Mei send him. He wanted to explore as well.

She also knew Granny wouldn’t live forever and she herself was making plans of leaving. She would start her own shop in Rush Valley, take Granny with her, so that she could have a normal retirement.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when she saw her old friend sitting down talking with one of the biggest name in the Military. She often forgot Colonel Elric in favor of seeing Ed, but sometimes it was unavoidable.

She sighed some more and turned to make some more tea. Eds break wasn’t over yet, she had time to get used to the idea of an emptier house again with mail tied to an owl and short phone calls.

[alchemic-elric]

This is completely bullshit is what it was. Really normally when he ended up here it normally was but yet he was still stuck setting in at the desk of Officer Fuery again for trespassing on the the Yao estate for the third time this week. The first time he was lectured and brought home by Officers Fuery and Falman. The second time he was brought to the station and given a written warning before they brought him home again and now here he was - round three and he was told that he couldn’t go home just yet because she wanted to speak with him. 

Edward had never actually met Chief of Police Olivier Armstrong but he’d heard stories from his music teacher Ms. Catherine and Principal Armstrong had been sure to give him his recount of his older sister and told the young teenager it would be wise of him to never have a run in with her. 

He just needed them to listen to him for once and understand that this was not his fault.  If Wu Yao wasn’t such an asshole they wouldn’t be having this problem in the first place.  The only reason he was even ‘sneaking’ onto his property was because he wanted to see his boyfriend and you could hardly blame a guy for that.  Ling kept not coming to school and when that happened it always worried him. 

He kept trying to tell them how horrible Wu Yao was but it didn’t seem to matter which adult he spoke to, none of them seemed to listen but he supposed that was perfectly normal when it came to adults because as Ling was always quick to remind him ‘Money Talks.’  and Edward always hated seeing the truth in that statement. Wasn’t there anyone in this damn town that would listen to him when he tried to tell them that there was something wrong in that house? 

Sure he didn’t have the exact thing pin-pointed yet but there had to be another reason that Wu banned him from their property other than the fact that Edward may have told him to Go Fuck Himself.  

He’s leaned back in the chair he’s setting in, his school bag setting off to the side of it and his cane leaning up against his legs. The teen is scrolling through his phone while he waits absolutely bored. He’s yet to text his brother as to where he was lest Alphonse lose his shit on him like he usually would. Grams was gunna bite his ear off again when he came home in a cop car again.   Least they were nice enough to drive him home, probably only did cause his home was too far off the beaten path - wasn’t on the bus route and he certainly couldn’t walk home. It’d take forever.  

Maybe he could  get Al to come get him - naw - he’s blah to Grams and then he’d still be screwed so that defeated the entire point. Why the big boss wanted to speak with him was beyond him. Surely she’d just bite his face off for causing so much undue trouble. It’s not like he hadn’t been drug down here for fighting before... but if those assholes were gunna run their mouths he’d fight’em where ever they wanted to pick one - school grounds or not. Edward Elric was not above a brawl in the streets - fake limbs or no. 

He’d make any dumb fucker eat their words should they open their fucking mouth and earn it. 

“Edward.”  the sound of Officer Falman’s voice echoes his direction and he groans while rolling his eyes.  This was fucking stupid. He’d have to talk to Mustang about this no doubt.  Some how that man always seemed to learn about every. single.one. of his transgressions despite just being his psychiatrist. Surely the Hawk’s Eye would be on his ass for this too. Monday meeting in the councilor’s office was in his future he was sure. There’s a scoffed groan as he grips the top of his cane and uses it to help force himself up from the chair. 

“Can I leave my stuff here at least?”  He asks looking over to Fuery who just nods to the teenager as he makes his way over to the officer that summoned him and walks through the open door he’s motioning towards for the boy to enter.  It’s small and obvious it’s meant for interrogations - he’s seen enough cop shows to know that much. Alphonse had a real taste for’em and he always seemed to end up getting sucked into whatever one his brother was currently hooked on. 

There’s a small table in the center of the room and two chairs one, on either side of it. Cliché. Falman motions to the teenager to set down and Edward complies as he rolls his eyes. The woman in the room, sets before him radiating the energy of a literate wall and he could tell from the look on her face she probably wouldn’t fall for his usual brand of humor - or in this case, sarcasm.  

“So whadda I owe the honors?”  He sounds seemingly unphased by her presence.  “I fuck up three times so I get a special prize?” He grins. He couldn’t help himself sarcasm is in his blood. 

|| @friigidus​​  

[essekknits]

University FMA AU

Shoutout to @liquidstar , this monstrosity started because of your post about how Furey must have a podcast in any modern AU. I thank you so much.

Hohenheim is a famous chemistry professor who always lectures all around the world, so he’s never around. Trisha is a stay-at-home mum. Winry’s parents joined some program of doctors who fly around the world, to treat people in third world countries.

Trisha dies, as she does, in an outbreak of some sort. Winry’s parents die from some tropical disease around the same time. Since Hohenheim isn’t around and Trisha is dead, Ed and Al are put in a foster home. They get lucky, and their foster parents are a delightfully weird couple, a big, bulky man and a woman who looks so thin and small in comparison but in truth is quite well built. She’s also pretty ill.

Izumi and Sig love them as their own, and treat them well. Sig is gentle and quiet, supporting them silently and mostly showing his love and care with physical gestures, like rubbing their heads or hugging them. Izumi is tougher, sharp witted and tongued, but when they need her, she would always be there for them with a gentle word of advice, or just an understanding hug. She can never have biological children after going through a stillbirth that almost killed her.

Anyway, she homeschools Ed and Al, and because they’re quick learners and she’s a great teacher, they finish all their education very early. Winry is also homeschooled, as the small village they’re from doesn’t have much of a school, and Pinako couldn’t part with the only family she had left. So Winry, also an extremely fast learner, finishes her education at around the same speed, while also learning from her grandma who is a prosthetist, cause she fell in love with the professions she grew up around.

While Ed and Al were with Izumi, Ed got injured in his left leg. It got severely infected, and had to be cut off. While Al appeared to handle the loss of their mother as well as you can expect a child, the time Ed spent hospitalised and practically on the brink of death due to sepsis, on top of the not-so-resolved issues of his mother’s death, was a huge hit on his mental health. He spent long periods of time dissociating, even after Ed got better and wasn’t in danger. He got the therapy he needed, and all the support of his loving families, and is doing much better now. Ed got a prosthetic leg fitted for him by Pinako and Winry.

Ed and Al are still great friends with Winry, even though they don’t meet as much because they live pretty far from each other. They talk a lot on the phone, and also visit each other sometimes.

They take whatever exams they need to take to qualify as “I finished my high school education”, and apply to the same university. Ed and Al are going to study chamistry cause fuck their old man but they’re good at it, and Izumi taught them a bunch cause she studied it herself and loves the subject. Winry is studying to become a prosthetist, so she has a long way to go (she needs a master’s degree to actually practice).

Enter Roy. Roy is an assistant professor to professor Hawkeye. The professor is sick and old and looks kinda dead inside. Riza, his daughter, is definitely NOT studying chemistry, and seems to be fairly cold toward her father, but she hangs around the back of the class when she’s not busy. She’s a martial arts teacher, and also a competitive archer in her free time. And if you think the assistant professor doesn’t steal glances at her biceps when she’s wearing a tank top, you are sorely mistaken. They’ve been going circles around each other for years now, and everyone who knows them is just waiting for them to KISS ALREADY GOD DAMMIT STOP LOOKING AT EACH OTHER LIKE THAT OVER THE CLASS IT MAKES EVERYONE UNCOMFORTABLE.

Roy’s best friend Maes is doing his post doctorate in law. He married one of his old classmates, who is now a lawyer. He’s notorious for gushing over his family with anyone who would listen to him. Alex Louis Armstrong is an art student, and his older sister Olivier constantly calls him a wuss and a disgrace to the family because he’s been studying for years and not taking enough courses for her taste every year (she herself studies at a breakneck speed, and is one of the youngest professors in her chosen field, which I don’t know yet). Falman is a history student. Havoc is still “figuring himself out” and taking a bunch of seemingly disconnected courses. Breda is studying culinary. Furey studies communication, and as a hobby he has a podcast.

Now, he didn’t exactly know what he wants to do with his podcast, so he asked a Breda and Falman, who he knew before, to help him get interesting people for his podcast and they’ll see what they can do. So Farman talks to Havoc, who’s you’re “guy who knows a guy” type of person, so he talks to Riza about it, and she decides to bring Roy and Maes in on it. Maes decides that the two literal kids Roy’s been telling him about need to get a life outside of studying, so he invites them too. Ed doesn’t want to, but Winry forces him to, and comes with. Meanwhile, Breda asked Alex Armstrong, and he dragged two younger students, Dan and Maria, who are just really intimidated by how intense he is.

So Furey is going to the place he set to meet with Farman and Breda, thinking they’ll bring like two other people or something, and is met with a member of the faculty, that intimidating lady he saw around sometimes carrying a large bow, a dude with a comically long string of family photos, a giant muscle man with a magnificent moustache, three normal looking people, and three literal teenagers, one of which has a kickass steampunk-looking prosthetic leg. And also his two friends. Difinitely NOT what he expected, but... hey, you know what? He’snot going to complain. He asked for interesting people, and it looked like that’s EXACTLY what he got.

Somewhere along the line Ling (a foreign student studying chemistry just to satisfy his rich father so he’ll get some of the inheritance), along with his girlfriend Lan Fan and his half sister Mei (who actually LIKES chemistry and won’t let her older half brother outshine her) joined (Ling and Lan Fan were tailing Ed cause Ling needs help with the material, and Mei developed a not-so-subtle crush on Al). Olivier Armstrong also participated in one or two episodes, just because Roy dared her, and she actually likes Riza. Her two assistants, a mountain of a man called Buccaneer and an neat-looking man called Miles, shared a few anecdotes too. Scar is a refugee Winry’s parents treated before they died (he did NOT kill them here), and Mei just casually starts talking to that creepy tattooed dude who’s lurking around the place. He turns out to be a pretty okay dude.

Anyway, just... shenanigans ensue. This is a wacky group of young people messing around on a podcast. Sometimes they play a roleplaying game, DnD style, and the campaign is basically the series. The characters who don’t show up as often as the core crew are just people who can’t show up to every recording session because they’re falling behind in their studies. Tucker is based on the creepy biology professor who started interrogating Ed about his prosthetic for way too long and whose daughter just hung around the campus after school and he never payed attention to her (Ed almost beat Furey up after the Nina part of the campaign cause THAT WAS NOT COOL). Maes got his character killed off on purpose pretty early on. He discussed it with Furey up ahead, since he knew he’ll be working his ass off with his research, so he couldn’t really keep coming for recording for too long. Roy, being the drama queen he is, decided to on the spot make it his character’s life mission to discover who murdered his best friend and avenge his death. Scar is an NPC, based on the actual Scar since before they knew him, and the more they got to know him the more his redemption arc continued. (Winry and Mei spearhead that one, because they’re the ones who got to know him the most).

[fullmetalscullyy]

Hey! I'm a big fan of your fics. I think they are beautiful, angsty with awesome fluff, I love it. I have this idea for a drabble, if you have time and like it here it goes: Riza was not so okay, at work, I am thinking maybe something with her father's abuse like she flashbacked. I don't know, whatever you find nice. So she feels like she made a fool of herself and takes a sick day the next day, but Roy and the team show up with flowers and beer to cheer her up and maybe some royai fluff too.

teammustang bonding is the good kush i love them sm ;;;

“I’mafraid I won’t be coming in today, sir. I’m feeling under the weather today.”

There wasa pause on the other side of the line as the Colonel digested her words. “Notcoming in?” he echoed and Riza sighed. True, it was unusual for her to take asick day. She hadn’t had one in over three years, but she was only human. Shewas entitled to them if she didn’t feel physically able to go to work.

“That’scorrect, sir,” she replied, schooling her voice so that it didn’t show herslight irritation at having to repeat herself. With a jolt she realised thiswasn’t her usual behaviour. Damn. This stupid thing was really getting to her.Riza sighed quietly to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose to try andstave off the headache.

“Are youokay?” he asked suddenly and lowly into her ear, the sound of his voice sendinga shiver down her neck and spine while causing gooseflesh to erupt over herscalp. Riza jumped at the unexpected question. But, of course, she’d sighed audibly,and he’d been able to pick up on it. He always had been skilled at that.

“Fine,sir,” she’d replied carefully, ensuring no further emotion translated into hertone.

She justwanted to be left alone today.

“Allright, Lieutenant. Take all the time you need.”

“Thankyou, sir. Good day.”

Afterhanging up the phone Riza sighed louder into quiet apartment. Hayate watchedher with inquisitive eyes, head cocking as if to ask what was wrong. Feelingthat headache creeping up on her faster Riza climbed back into bed and tried tosleep and rid herself of the bothersome pain.

Plus, ifshe was asleep, she wouldn’t remember why she had to take a day off in thefirst place.

Two days ago,at work they’d been reviewing a new case to work on. It was to look into agentleman – read: bastard – who had verbally abused his wife to thepoint that she left him, however the small child had been left in his carebecause his wife was no longer living. She’d passed away a few weeks afterleaving him. Suicide. Neighbours had made complaints that they’d heard yelling,screams, and crying coming from inside the apartment, so the military wasbrought in to investigate and apprehend the man, while ensuring the child wassafe.

Riza hadread the case file with calculated interest, like always, taking in everynoteworthy piece of information inside, however when she came across the detailthat a child had been left in an abusive man’s care, that was when she wasdrawn up short very abruptly. So much so that she dropped the file during theirteam meeting, the paper falling out the binding and splaying across the floor.The whole team had turned to look at her, concern and surprise on their faces.Abruptly, Riza stood and excused herself, claiming she needed to use the bathroom.

Instead,she’d hurried outside into the fresh air, gulping down the oxygen as she wastransported back to her childhood home, remembering the loss of her mother andthe abuse her father had put her through simply because she’d been born. Hermother died from injuries sustained in childbirth. It wasn’t Riza’s fault. ButBerthold Hawkeye blamed it on her entirely and made sure he screamed it in herface almost every night before she went to bed. That was before she became invisibleto him.

She’d beentruly terrified and had never felt so alone. If the report was anything to goby then she knew exactly what this child was going through and Rizawouldn’t subject the little girl to that. She’d joined the military to helppeople like this little girl, to protect her from her father. Riza wasn’t goingto let this happen to another child, not while she could do something about it.

“Hawkeye?”the Colonel called cautiously as he approached. She straightened suddenly andstiffened, ashamed at the show of weakness. “Listen, if this case is too much–”

“I’mfine,” she barked, harsher than was necessary.

“Hawkeye–”

“I’m fine,sir. It just caught me off guard, that’s all,” she explained, determination onher face as she turned to face him. She almost faltered when she saw theconcern and worry in his face.

“I knewthis case would hit hard. I wanted to warn you about it, but Grumman called meaway to a meeting and you’d already started without me. I’m sorry –”

“Sir, withall due respect, this can wait until another time. A little girl’s life is atstake here and I don’t want to waste any more time than I already have.”

Mustangregarded her for a moment before he nodded in agreement. “Understood,Lieutenant.”

Theyhelped the girl. They took her away from her verbally abusive father. She’dbeen mute, terrified, and was shaking when Riza escorted her outside theapartment while the team dealt with her father.

“I wentthrough something very similar to you growing up,” Riza whispered, as if afraidanyone would overhear them. “I know what you’re going through. The militarywill put you with a temporary family until we can find and contact your own,”Riza explained to her in the hopes to alleviate the terrifying uncertainty shemust be feeling. She rubbed the girl’s upper arms as she did so to try and getsome heat in her. She was shaking uncontrollably. “We will arrest your fatherfor the crimes he’s committed and for jeopardising your safety. You will befree of him, I promise. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

The girllooked up at Riza, her tear stained face and wide eyes gazing earnestly up atthe soldier. “Th – Thank you,” she whispered, her voice wobbling as she spoke.

Rizasmiled at her, wrapping her in the blanket they stored in Mustang’s car andtaking a seat next to her, holding the girl tightly against her side as a showof comfort.

Her initialoutburst had been embarrassing. Couple that with the stress and emotionalexhaustion she’d experience from this case, Riza needed a day off.

Two hourslater she awoke with a dozing Hayate curled up against her side in the bed.Normally she wouldn’t allow him up on the bed, but she needed the extra comforttoday. Instead of rising she lay there, staring up at the ceiling, reviewingall that had happened yesterday and prayed the little girl managed to find somepeace finally.

She made amental note to visit her as soon as possible.

A knock onher apartment door dragged her attention out of her thoughts. Tying her housecoataround her, Riza opened her apartment door and – to her astonishment – foundthe whole team outside her door.

“Hey,Hawkeye,” Havoc greeted her with a grin. He shoved something forward into herarms. She was too shocked to realise it was a bouquet of flowers. “The boss saidyou were feeling under the weather, so we thought we’d come by and check up onyou.”

“Here,”Fuery smiled, offering her another bouquet of flowers.

Rizablinked at the four of them, bewildered. “What –”

“It’s nofun on lunch break when you are off sick, so we thought we’d bring lunch toyou.” Breda pulled out a brown paper bag from behind his back with a flourish,the smell hitting Riza’s nostrils and making her stomach rumble. She hadn’teaten since yesterday’s lunch, too caught up in the case to think about food.

“I alsopicked up some pastries from that bakery you like,” Falman informed her,showing off a white box of treats. “I thought you’d enjoy them.”

Havocentered first, Riza stepping out the way to avoid him walking into her. Therest followed, making their way into her apartment.

“What…?Why are you here?” she asked, still confused.

“Like Isaid, the boss said you weren’t feeling well,” Havoc repeated.

“So, wethought we’d stop by to try and cheer you up,” Fuery added.

“The caseyesterday was a hard one,” Falman mused, laying his bag of treats on herkitchen table while the rest of the boys took a chair. “I found it difficultmyself, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yeah, itwasn’t nice,” Havoc added, voice turning melancholy. “Poor little thing.”

“We gother out of there though, remember that,” Breda interjected. “Hawkeye talked herdown and she was much calmer when we left the building after dealing with herfather.”

“You’reright. And Mustang was right, you were the perfect person for that job,Hawkeye,” Fuery grinned.

Speakingof… If the rest of them were here…

“He saidthat?” Riza asked, curious.

Bredanodded. “Yeah. And you were perfect.”

“Thankyou,” she replied, feeling her cheeks heating up. “Is he… here?” she askedcautiously.

Havoc snorted.“This was his idea.”

Sureenough, Mustang walked through the door of her apartment with a soft smile onhis face just for her. “Sorry, guys,” he called out. “I was just parking thecar. Some people just can’t park,” he grumbled, closing the door behind him,but stopping so he stayed out of view of the boys. Riza stepped forward,shielding herself from their eyes too.

“You didthis?”

“I wasworried about you. And I know how happy it makes you when we’re all together. So,I thought, why not bring lunch to you? It could do the world of good.”

“I… Thankyou,” she breathed, touched he would be so kind about all of this – that they allwould be so kind to her. These were the only people who ever had been, but evenstill, after her childhood it was still a shock when it happened.

“Don’t mention it,” he murmured, facesoftening.

Riza pecked his cheek, her own smilespreading across her face. “This means the world to me,” she whispered.

Roy gently grasped her fingers in his,entwining them tightly. “I’m glad I could do that for you. Come on, let’s eat.”

With another quick kiss, the twoentered the kitchen where the boys were already fighting over who would getwhat pastry.

“Yo, Hawkeye, what one do you want?”Havoc called.

“I got all your favourites, so you pickfirst,” Falman explained further.

“Yeah, then Breda and Havoc can fightover the rest,” Fuery snickered.

“We’re adults, Fuery. We don’t fightover pastries.”

“You just did,” Falman muttered,placing one on each plate, presenting them to Riza with a flourish. “Anyway,it’s the ladies’ choice.”

Four sets of eyes set upon herexpectantly, waiting for her to choose which pastry she would like to indulgeherself in today. They’d gone through all this trouble and effort to try andcheer her up and Riza had to admit, it had worked wonderfully.

She loved her team, she thought while ahappy tear came to her eye.

[writing-royza]

Curiosity

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! After some technical difficulties trying to post a piece of artwork earlier today, I have removed it until it can be fixed. In the meantime, have this! (Please keep in mind, this story is from very early in my FMA career, so the characterization is a little less polished than usual.)

I do not own FMA.

Curiosity

Fuery watched Lieutenant Hawkeye leaving the room, her right hand carefully massaging the back of her left shoulder. Her expression didn't let on that she was having one of her strange episodes of back pain, but they all knew. Whenever her back was hurting, she talked even less than usual, and her footsteps became more careful and quiet as she tried to keep each step from jarring her spine.

"Colonel?" Fuery looked timidly over at his dark-haired superior. "Is Lieutenant Hawkeye going to be all right?"

Another side effect of the Lieutenant's back pain was that it seemed to cause the Colonel just as much discomfort. He was still staring at the door she'd disappeared through, his face drawn. Even from here, Fuery could tell that he was pensively worrying the inside of his lower lip with his teeth.

"She usually bounces back," Roy answered distractedly. He dropped his gaze back to the papers on his desk, going back to filling them out; another oddity. He wasn't complaining, stalling, starting to drop off . . . . If Fuery didn't know better, he would say that the Colonel was deliberately trying to give the Lieutenant one less thing to worry about by getting his work done.

Something was very strange around this office, and it was only his second week. Fuery wondered if it would be overstepping his limits if he tried to find out what that strange thing was . . . .

The sub-basement of the East City Military Headquarters was a dark, silent place after hours. During the work day, at least, it was a light, silent place; the curators of the archives contained there turned out every light before leaving.

Fuery stood at the top of the steps, seeing his entire plan fall to pieces and drop into the yawning abyss of the night-black stairwell. He had no idea where the light switches were, no flashlight, not so much as a match to see by; he supposed that turning on the lights would only alert guards that someone was somewhere they weren't supposed to be. With a sigh, Fuery turned to leave.

"Psst!"

His head whipped back around at the noise; a flashlight clicked on at the bottom of the stairs, illuminating the face of Jean Havoc. "You're not giving up that easy, are you?" he hissed, grinning.

Hurrying down the stairs, Fuery kept his voice at a whisper. "What are you doing here, sir?"

"You think you're the only one who's curious?" Breda materialized out of the shadows on Fuery's right. "We've known something was up between the Colonel and Lieutenant since we started. You're the first to actually make a move to look into it."

"But . . . how did you know I was going to check it out?" Fuery looked back and forth between the two officers, bewildered. "I didn't say anything!"

"You acted suspiciously following your conversation with the Colonel regarding Lieutenant Hawkeye." Fuery jumped, then spun to find Falman standing behind him. "Given the nature of the topic and the fact that you know exactly where to locate personnel files, we deduced that it was only a matter of time before you attempted to find out just what it is that's going on."

"So you gonna help us find those files, or what?" Havoc pressed, leaning on Fuery's shoulder. "You want to find out what our superiors are up to behind our backs, don't you?"

The youngest member of the so-called 'Mustang Unit' hesitated for only a second before ducking out from under Havoc's arm and taking his flashlight. "Follow me."

The first row of shelves he led them down was labelled at the start with a sign that read 'Personnel Files: K–M.' At the far end, tucked into a box between 'Mullarkey, Ryan' and 'Myre, Colin' was a file with a bright green stamp of the State alchemists' crest and the name 'Mustang, Roy.' Fuery pulled it out and passed it to Breda.

The red-headed man hefted it, letting out a low whistle. "Look at the size of this thing . . . . You'd think he'd been in the military for thirty years . . . ."

Fuery was already heading back the way they'd come . . . and taking the only light with him; the other three hurried to catch up. Up out of the K–M section, and over three rows to the start of the H–J section. Another moment of searching for the right box, then the right file.

"There should be some tables closer to the stairs," Fuery said, turning away again. The flashlight picked out the worn wooden surfaces just metres away, and the little group crossed toward them. Chairs scraped on the floor as they settled in to their snooping.

Roy's file was first. Opening it first revealed a page listing his personal information: full name, date of birth, date of enlistment, height, weight, gender, next of kin and their information. A black-and-white photograph of a younger Roy was paper-clipped to the file. His hair was shorter, and the serious expression seemed out of place on the young face, but the dark eyes were the same.

Havoc leaned close, frowning. "Wait a minute . . . that bar it says that his aunt owns . . . . I've been there before, when I was passing through Central." His eyes widened as he fully grasped the implications. "Damn, I think I hit on my boss's aunt!"

Fuery wasn't listening; he turned past the rest of the military records — fitness reports, psychological evaluations, notices of promotion — to the next section in the file – a copy of Roy's State alchemist's license. The same basic information was given as on the military record, with two differences. Under 'Alias' was written 'Flame Alchemist,' and under 'Alchemical Instructor' was the name 'Berthold Hawkeye.'

". . . . Guys?" He touched a finger to the surname. "You . . . you don't think that . . . ."

All motion ceased for a full three seconds before there was a mad scramble for the file marked with the Lieutenant's name. A cursory glance at the photograph of a young woman with short-cropped blonde hair, and then all four pairs of eyes were skimming down to the next of kin. In the now-Lieutenant's handwriting, the name 'Berthold Hawkeye (father)' was crossed out, as was the word 'none.' It had been replaced by the words 'Lt.-General Grumman (maternal grandfather)' in someone else's script.

Breda stared. "She's related to a General? No wonder she gets promoted faster than other women in the military . . . ."

"I highly doubt the Lieutenant uses her familial connection to rise in the ranks," Falman said. "That would be both unethical and completely outside her character."

"You guys are missing the point!" Fuery exclaimed. "The Lieutenant's father was the Colonel's alchemy teacher. That means they must have known each other when they were younger, right? He joined up when he was eighteen, so he probably started learning alchemy when he was . . . fifteen? Which would make the Lieutenant twelve or thirteen . . . ." He shook his head. "Wow . . . I got the feeling they knew each other, but I thought it was just from Ishval."

"It's a pretty sweet story," Havoc said, smiling slightly. "Two kids grow up together, fight a war together, then end up working together after all that time . . . . No wonder they're able to do that 'secret communication' thing."

Fuery frowned. "Secret communication?"

"You know, that thing they do where they look at each other, and you could swear they're having their own private conversation?" the sandy-blond man shrugged. "They don't do it a lot; I've only seen it once or twice, but I swear that's what happens."

Propping his chin in his hand, Fuery looked down at the two files. Another photograph, sticking out from behind one of Lieutenant Hawkeye's fitness reports caught his attention; he tugged it free . . . and promptly dropped it. "Holy cow!"

The other leaned forward . . . and froze. After a moment, Falman cleared his throat and looked away; Breda's eyes seemed like they were going to pop out of his head. Havoc gave a low whistle.

"I knew the military required photographic evidence of all tattoos . . . never thought she would have one." He slid the picture carefully back under cover. "Normally, they just want to make sure you don't have any anti-military sentiments or symbols . . . . I have no idea what that is."

"It's alchemical in nature, but I don't recognize it," Falman murmured.

Silence descended on the dark room for a moment, before Fuery guiltily closed the file. "We should put these back and go, before the night guards find us down here."

"Master Sergeant, is there a reason why you keep looking at me like that?"

Jolted back to reality, Fuery belatedly dropped his gaze back to his desk, trying – and failing – to force back the blush working its way onto his face. He was glad no one else was in the office this early in the morning, to see his embarrassment. "S-Sorry, Lieutenant. I was just . . . thinking."

A half-amused smile tugged at the corner of Hawkeye's mouth. "And that requires you to stare at me?"

"N-No! I just . . . I mean . . . . I didn't mean to stare at you, sir, I really didn't!" Now completely flustered, Fuery slumped in his chair. "I really am sorry."

"It's all right." Hawkeye tilted her head to one side. "If there's something on your mind, would you like to talk about it?"

Fuery shifted, trying to think of how he could get answers without revealing his not-so-legal snooping. "Well . . . . I was just wondering how you and Colonel Mustang met."

If the question surprised her, it didn't show in her expression. She merely folded her hands on the top of her desk, looking steadily back at him. "As soldiers, we met on the Ishvalan battlefield. However, I knew him from before he enlisted, as my father's alchemy apprentice."

"Really?" Feigning ignorance, Fuery worked at keeping his expression innocent. "So your father is the one who taught him Flame Alchemy?"

That drew a small reaction; a slight twitch of a muscle in her cheek. "No. My father is the man who developed the theories and formula for Flame Alchemy, though he never taught it to the Colonel. He was forced to figure that part out on his own."

Theories . . . formula . . . . And Falman had said that the tattoo on the Lieutenant's back was definitely alchemical in nature. It all fit. Fuery got to his feet. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Lieutenant. If you don't mind, I think I'll go down to the cafeteria and get some coffee."

With a nod of acknowledgement, Hawkeye looked back to her work. "You're welcome, Master Sergeant."

He hurried from the room before she could notice that his mind had kicked into overdrive, moving briskly through the hallways and down two levels to the cafeteria. Right about now, the others should be getting their own coffee before going up to the office; he had to speak to them before they did.

Sure enough, the three others were grouped beside one of the dispensers beside the main serving window, all holding mugs with steam curling above them. Fuery hurried up, completely forgetting to salute his superiors.

"I confirmed it!" he said excitedly, voice barely low enough to avoid eavesdroppers. "Lieutenant Hawkeye's father was the Colonel's alchemy teacher, but he wasn't the one to show him how to use Flame Alchemy. All he did was develop the theories and formula behind it."

Breda frowned. "Meaning the Colonel had to work that out himself?"

Nodding furiously, Fuery leaned closer. "Think about it – the Lieutenant's tattoo looks like a bunch of alchemy, right? What if that tattoo is the formula for Flame Alchemy? Do you realize what that means?"

Havoc's morning cigarette tilted upward in his mouth as he grinned in realization. "It means the Colonel has seen the one thing that over half the guys on base fantasize about . . . . He's seen Lieutenant Hawkeye naked."

"Maybe I have." Four heads whipped around as the man in question walked past, just within hearing range, wearing a grim, knowing smirk. "And if you ever repeat that to anybody, you'll all be little piles of ash before you can even blink."

[queenwinry]

Intimacy-Part 2

Pairing: Royai

Rating: T

Words: 3984

Part 1

Summary:  Every member of Team Mustang knows that something is unique about Roy and Riza's relationship. But how exactly did they all come to figure that out? Series of oneshots detailing the ways in which everyone realized that their superiors were a bit more than commanding officer and adjutant. 

A/N: Finally! Here is part 2! Sorry for the long wait, my life is super busy right now but I’ve been meaning to get this chapter written for forever and I finally got it all down! I know I said I would do Fuery next but this is probably my favorite of the group so I couldn’t help myself. Without further ado, here is Falman’s story!

Sweat trickled down Vato Falman’s forehead and for the first time ever, he actually wished to be back in the cold tundra of Briggs. The sun bared down on the training grounds of East City’s headquarters in waves of heat, the early August summer in full force. The veteran second lieutenant was never one to complain, but this was just intolerable.

While the spritely new recruits were certainly in a more difficult position given the harsh calls of their drill sergeants and the intense exercises they were repeatedly made to do, they at least had reasonable clothing on for the weather. Never had Falman hated the heavy blue wool of his uniform more.

With his back straight and his face working tirelessly to not reveal his discomfort, he followed after the self-absorbed general he had been assigned to accompany all day as said man sneered and stuck his nose up at the showings of the recruits. Vato had always been a fair person, unwilling to make judgement calls so readily, but General Hakuro was the kind that could force even the gentlest person to be overcome with hatred. The conversation from this morning was evidence enough of that fact.

While Hakuro had once held his iron fist over the East City branch of the military, the openings from the Promised Day coup gave him a spot in Central, which he had no problems openly bragging about. Still, he had to make regular visits to his old division, on the pretense of “checking-in” on the progress of his successor, a very frustrated new Brigadier-General Mustang.

The whole of East City headquarters had been dreading Hakuro’s return, but none more so than the Flame Alchemist. They had butted heads since Mustang had first been posted under Hakuro after Ishval, and their animosity had only grown over the past few years. The elderly general hadn’t worked with the homunculi unlike most of his colleagues (too focused on himself, Roy had always figured), so he’d been allowed to stay in the military and climb the ranks even further than he already had. Yet, he knew Mustang too well to shrug aside his involvement in the coup. While the new fuhrer had knowingly and purposely turned a blind eye to Mustang’s role, Hakuro still brought it up whenever they were anywhere near each other.

Needless to say, things had been tense lately, but everything culminated that morning when Hakuro claimed he would spend the day observing and overseeing the training of the military’s newest members. While General Mustang normally wouldn’t care about such a thing, his superior’s demands had fueled an intense verbal spar unlike anything Falman had witnessed before.

And that was saying something, given who his last commanding officer had been.

“I’m going to need a security detail if I’m going to be out in the open. I don’t fully trust you’ve secured the entirety of headquarters as well as I would have, Mustang,” Hakuro gritted out, his tone superior and his gaze firm and deadly. Falman watched from his place behind the new general as Mustang’s entire body tensed, no doubt fighting the angry expression that wanted to reveal itself.

Gritting his teeth, the brigadier-general answered. “Alright, I’ll assign you some of our best guards, sir.” The effort it must’ve taken to utter any measure of respect had to have been immense, the lieutenant figured.

As Mustang’s entire team watched warily, Hakuro’s face twisted into a satisfied smirk. “That won’t nearly be good enough. It’s not befitting of our ranks for you to take the greatest of them all and leave me your seconds. I’ll be using members of your own team as guards.”

Falman wasn’t looking directly at him to notice, but he was sure Mustang’s face paled before it reddened in rising anger. “Is that really necessary, sir? My team is under my command.” No one missed the possessiveness in his tone.

Hakuro’s face did not falter. “And you are under mine. Therefore, I have a right to everything you deem your own. Your team will spend the day with me while you go and do your job...Brigadier.” The emphasis on Mustang’s title did not go unnoticed. All five members of the illustrious ‘Team Mustang’ fidgeted uncomfortably, not liking the implications of any of this.

“And just what exactly am I supposed to do?” Mustang asked, somewhat foolishly. He was beginning to sound like a petulant child getting his toys taken away from him. While his team knew his feelings went far deeper than that, Falman also knew General Hakuro wouldn’t see it as anything else.

Letting out a scoff, his superior answered him, “Christ, Mustang, aren’t you supposed to be the big genius upstart here? I think you’ll manage to survive a day or two without all of your little lackeys around you. I only need a couple anyway.”

Falman chanced a glance at his superior and found Mustang looking like an exaggerated character from a newspaper comic. Falman half-expected to see steam pouring from his ears at any moment. Roy had always hated the liberties Hakuro took in the name of rank and the lieutenant could tell this time was no different. Still, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do, and they all (especially Hakuro) knew it.

Stabling his anger, Mustang replied. “Alright then, Havoc and Breda should do you just fine.” Falman knew by the strained tone of his voice that his commanding officer didn’t want to throw his subordinates under the bus, but he also could tell why those two had been chosen.

Hakuro wasn’t done being an all around pest, however. With a sickening smile, the general tipped his head. “And what makes you think you can choose for me? As I recall, Lieutenant Havoc was wheelchair-bound up until a few months ago and Lieutenant Breda looks like he could stand to hit up the military gym more often.”

The confidence with which Hakuro delivered his statement made Falman genuinely concerned his superior would lunge out at the man. Mustang seemed to settle for balling up his fists and gritting his teeth to hold himself back.

“No, I will be choosing my own escort. You, tall guy. Aren’t you the one who can remember anything you see?”

At having been finally addressed by the intimidating man, Falman gulped and regrettably answered with the truth, “Y-Yes sir.”

“Good, I need someone who pays attention to details. And that small one there with the glasses is your radio guy, right Mustang? He’ll do well for me behind the scenes.”

The brigadier-general was anything but pleased, yet he still nodded his head to acquiesce to his superior’s demands (or more accurately, commands). “Alright, sir, you can have them for the day, but they’d better not-,”

“Ah, not so fast, Mustang. Didn’t I say it’s not appropriate for you to get the best ones and leave me the seconds? I need one more to fill out the team and it would be incredibly rude if you denied me your most talented officer,” the older man sneered in a self-satisfied voice, his eyes finding the one member of their team perpetually right at General Mustang’s side.

This time the Flame Alchemist couldn’t help but narrow his eyes in barely held anger.

“Captain Hawkeye is clearly the most skilled and dutiful member of your little posse. I think she will serve me quite well today.”

Falman shuddered at the way Hakuro didn’t even try to hide his double meaning.

“The captain is my adjutant. She’s my personal bodyguard,” Mustang gritted out, his voice terribly strained.

“I’m well aware, Brigadier-General. But I think you can spare her for a whole day.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think that would-,”

Again cutting him off, Hakuro quickly spoke, “You didn’t protest this much with the others, Mustang. Is there a reason you don’t want me to have her?”

Falman inwardly groaned, knowing the veteran general had his subordinate cornered. While the lieutenant knew Mustang would fight more readily to keep Hakuro from snatching away Hawkeye, even if temporary, he also knew how it looked for him to keep arguing. Either his commanding officer had to concede, or he had to reveal something everyone knew Hakuro had been trying to get him to reveal since Riza was first posted at Eastern Command.

And while Falman didn’t even want to guess at the nature of whatever that may be (he wasn’t one to go snooping in other people’s personal businesses), he still knew Mustang really had only one option.

Without giving any effort to hide his immense distaste, even knowing General Hakuro was eating it up, Mustang was silent for a moment before he nodded his head and simply answered, “Fine, you can have her too.”

The smile that spread across the general’s face was enough to enrage everyone present. “I thought you might see things my way.”

And so they now found themselves, himself and Hawkeye following around the insufferable man as he dished out quick rebukes and demeaning disregards to anyone he found unworthy of his standards.

Which was everyone, essentially.

Falman couldn’t help but worry, though. He chanced a quick glance at his other superior, and found her to look even worse than when he last checked. Captain Hawkeye was still recovering from what had ended up being a rather nasty stomach bug. She’d come into headquarters a few days prior looking as pale as a ghost, and had only left once her superior had given her very firm orders to take care of her health before her military duties. Falman could tell she wasn’t quite recovered, but Hakuro’s arrival meant she couldn’t possibly skip out on work another day. The lieutenant had overheard Mustang promising she would have lighter duties, and even though she had vehemently protested, he was sure none of them could have predicted this.

Falman was also sure Hawkeye hadn’t eaten anything that day. She was still nauseous from the days of repeated illness and hadn’t been able to stomach much of a breakfast. Combined with the fact that Hakuro had, of course, not included the two of them in his luxurious lunchtime feast nor had allowed them to take some time to eat and get some water, Falman was worried sick the captain was about to drop any second. She certainly looked a little worse for wear, as she followed after the general on unsteady feet.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Falman. I survived Ishval, I think I can stand one day out in the heat,” she had told him after he tried to protest earlier. While he knew she could handle herself better than most, being severely dehydrated, ill, and malnourished worked against even the strongest of soldiers.

Still, it wasn’t like he could ask the general to give her a break. Hakuro couldn’t bear to think of anyone other than himself (as evidenced by their lack of lunch/water breaks), and the lieutenant was sure he would scoff and mumble something about “Mustang’s lazy subordinates” if he ever brought it up. He settled for occasionally breaking eye contact on his charge (bodyguard faux pas number one) to check up on her.

They walked around for another hour or so as the sun continued to shine upon them, its rays suffocatingly hot. It was now late afternoon, and Falman began to wonder if he would ever feel cool again. His eyes flickered over to his captain once more, as he had been doing consistently for awhile now, before they immediately widened in concern.

Hawkeye was beginning to sway on her feet. She was drenched in sweat and her eyes were rapidly blinking, seemingly trying to clear the blurred landscape. Falman just knew her body had reached its limits, as they attempted to follow after Hakuro’s sure footsteps. The second lieutenant nearly reached out to her, before remembering where he was and what he was doing. He found himself locked in a fierce battle between wanting to help out his superior and knowing her authority meant nothing in comparison to the general, who was just looking for a way to discredit Mustang.

There was nothing he could do as Hawkeye took one more shaking step forward, paused, and let her eyes roll into the back of her head as she collapsed. Not giving a care to anything else, Falman just managed to catch her before she hit her head on the ground, her body completely crumpling.

“Captain! Captain, are you alright?” He exclaimed worriedly, as he began trying to arouse her, not liking the feeling of her racing heart and frightfully hot skin beneath his hands.

Behind him, he heard a displeased scoff, and turned in confusion to find the general looking down at them with eyes that were a mix of distaste and satisfaction. “So this is Mustang’s great bodyguard sniper, huh? How weak. Someone who spent months in Ishval passing out because it’s a bit hot outside.”

Falman had always been unsure whether he was capable of truly hating someone. He was generally a kind and forgiving man, who liked to hear all sides of everyone’s story and give people forgiveness where it was warranted.

But now, the second lieutenant could not help the angry glare that took residence on his face as he looked at his “superior” with hatred.

“Leave her be. Someone with enough disrespect to pass out on duty doesn’t deserve our attention. Let’s go, tall guy,” Hakuro said before turning around without another word.

“B-but she needs medical attention! She’s probably dehydrated.” Immediately at Falman’s rebuke, the general stilled and turned around agonizingly slowly. His eyes narrowed dangerously, challenging the second lieutenant to dare question his authority once more.

“She’s weak! Soldiers don’t pass out when they need to be doing their jobs. Maybe she’ll learn that if we leave her. Now, I’ve had enough of Mustang’s incompetence. Let’s go.”

Falman’s eyes immediately flashed back to Riza, and his heart ached. Her dehydration and recent illness combined with the intense heat meant she could be in serious danger if they did nothing. She needed medical attention right away, but this clown of a general wouldn’t allow it. Falman was really at a loss of what to do. He took a second to check the captain’s racing pulse, which Hakuro immediately noticed before he stepped forward with a menacing presence.

“Second Lieutenant, if you abandon your post to help her, I will consider it an act of direct insubordination,” General Hakuro let out in an enraged voice. Left with a decision, Falman looked from Hawkeye’s limp body to his positively incensed superior. General Hakuro was an incredibly powerful man, and his entire military career could be destroyed by this one act. But more importantly, Riza was a friend. And not only did he have a duty to help and protect her, he had a duty to Brigadier-General Mustang. And he knew exactly what his commanding officer would want him to do. “Sorry, sir,” the lieutenant let out in an uncharacteristically determined voice. “But sometimes loyalty trumps authority.” Without another thought, Falman’s arms reached for the remarkably ill captain, scooping her up and dashing her across the grounds toward the military hospital, decisively ignoring Hakuro’s shouts as he went.

---

“You’re kidding!? I can’t believe he would say something like,” the doctor taking care of Captain Hawkeye said as she continued performing her physical exam on the sleeping officer.

Falman sat on an uncomfortable chair placed right at Hawkeye’s bedside, where he had been since they’d admitted her to the military hospital. He’d just finished explaining the story of what had happened and nodded his head at the doctor’s disbelief. “Unfortunately, he’s just that kind of person. All the same, Captain Hawkeye is an important member of our team and a good mentor. I couldn’t just let her be.”

Placing her stethoscope around her neck and shaking her head, the doctor replied. “I’m sure glad you didn’t, otherwise she would have been in bad shape. Her electrolytes were completely out of whack and her temperature was scary elevated. Combination of heat stroke and severe dehydration. She’s lucky to even be alive.”

Falman nodded his head gravely at the doctor’s words, knowing that’s what she would say. He’d read plenty of medical textbooks while back in the academy and his eidetic memory allowed him to know exactly how serious of a situation this was. He still had to handle Hakuro’s wrath, but in his mind it would all be worth it.

“Honestly I can’t stand some of these military types. They think the mark of a true soldier is someone who ignores or deprives their body. In medicine we just call those people idiots.”

Letting a loose a smile for the first time that day, Falman again nodded his head in agreement. He knew his superior was in good hands. This doctor reminded him a lot of the one stationed out in Briggs, who he’d gotten the pleasure of having many enjoyable conversations with.

“Well, the good news is that she’s stabilized somewhat. Her temperature and heart rate have gone down and we’re replenishing her fluids and electrolytes. We’ll continue to monitor everything and she’ll definitely need some good rest, but I expect she’ll make a full recovery.”

Letting out a weighted breath, Falman shot the doctor a grateful look. “Thank you. You have no idea how much myself and my team appreciate everyone’s help.”

The doctor smiled and closed the notebook she had been scribbling on. “I think I can chance a guess. I’ve heard my share of rumors about your team, and I know none of you would be too happy if something happened to her.”

“No, we wouldn’t,” the second lieutenant replied in a serious tone, realizing once more the importance of all the people he’d grouped up with what felt like so long ago.

“Speaking of your team, though, I’ve been meaning to ask. Has anyone informed her CO of what happened?”

Instantly, Falman’s feel good mood deflated a touch and dread plopped like a stone in his stomach. His face twisted and he answered in a wary tone. “Yes, I think so. I sent someone to get a hold of him a little while ago. My guess is once he’s informed he’ll be knocking down the door.”

The doctor lifted an eyebrow and opened her mouth to answer when the pair heard a commotion coming from outside the room. Through the closed door they could only catch parts of someone shouting and many others attempting to keep the peace. Falman had a sinking suspicion what could be going on.

“Let me guess,” the doctor began, “That’s him.”

Falman only nodded his head.

A beat passed before the door to the room was flung open and a positively furious Brigadier-General Mustang came bursting through, out of breath, with his face as red as a tomato. “Falman!” he immediately exclaimed, shaking off the advances of the nurses telling him to keep quiet and calm down. “What the hell happened!? Is she okay?”

Before the lieutenant could even answer his superior, Mustang’s eyes went to the hospital bed. They got a glimpse of Hawkeye’s still pale and sweaty form before he widened them in shock and what Falman could only consider as true fear. He took a few quiet breaths before his countenance changed into the frighteningly deadly military officer Falman had only caught glimpses of a few times before.

“I’m going to kill Hakuro,” he spoke through gritted teeth in a deadly tone. The lieutenant had no doubt in his mind that he was being serious.

Allowing a knowing smile to cross her face, the doctor stepped forward with an outstretched hand. Mustang eyed her warily, but shook it nonetheless. “You must be the CO. I’m Dr. Walker, the one who’s been taking care of your captain. She’s had quite the past few hours but as I was telling your other subordinate here, we expect her to make a full recovery.”

Mustang’s fury was dampened somewhat with the doctor’s reassurances before he proceeded to deflate and thank her for her help. Dr. Walker explained a bit more about what had happened, the mechanism of heat stroke along with her possible dehydration and laid out what they should expect from her recovery over the next few days. The captain was still blissfully asleep through all of this, the nurses making sure she was well rested given what she’d been through.

Eventually reaching the end of her explanation, Dr. Walker once again shook the brigadier-general’s hand, waved to Falman, who also expressed his thanks, and then left them alone, wisely picking up on the need for a more intimate conversation.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Mustang leaned against his adjutant’s bed, his eyes taking on a strange look as they gazed at her sleeping form. “Goddamn that bastard. I told him he wasn’t supposed to hurt either of you. Son of a bitch can’t think of anyone outside of himself.”

Falman, in his usual analyzing way, picked up on the weariness that his superior carried himself with. There were bags under his eyes and his shoulders slumped unnaturally. Falman could tell Hakuro’s visit had wound Mustang up tight. He was sure what happened with Hawkeye only let loose the floodgates of the general’s stress.

The lieutenant kept quiet as Mustang closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths. He opened them up and then moved around Riza’s bed, adjusting her blankets mindlessly. “Breda told me what happened,” he eventually said, his back to his subordinate.

“General Hakuro gave me a choice. My duty or the captain’s safety. It wasn’t really a hard decision.”

Mustang scoffed. “It should never be. Trust me, Falman, I don’t ever want anyone on my team to think they have to answer to someone above them before they help their teammates. That’s not what we’re about.”

“I know, sir. I’m glad you made that very clear.”

Surprising him, Mustang turned around and flashed his second lieutenant a meaningful look. Falman couldn’t help but be shocked at the sincerity of his superior’s gaze, but what was most surprising was the gratitude he also found there.

“Falman,” he began in a strangely quiet voice. “I can’t even express how thankful I am for what you did. I’ll deal with Hakuro on my own terms, but I want you to know how...grateful I am.”

Suddenly the second lieutenant couldn’t find a coherent word in his jam-packed mind to reply with. The look in Mustang’s eyes was peculiar, but not wholly unexpected. There was more than just the usual fatherly affection the general harbored for everyone on his tight-knit team. There was something else lingering in his words.

It was almost as if Falman had saved his life too, in addition to Captain Hawkeye’s.

The second lieutenant had always...known. He was far too good at “paying attention to details”, as Hakuro had called it, to not notice something. But still...to see such sincerity and gratefulness from a man known for playing his cards close to the vest was...radical, almost unbelievable.

Falman’s eyes drifted to Hawkeye’s form as Mustang turned back around, leaning against her bed like it was his lifeline and even more pieces clicked in the lieutenant’s mind.

He knew he wouldn’t have to worry about Hakuro’s fury. Mustang would take the entire brunt of it himself if he had to. He would make it a point to use what had happened as an example. They were a close group of soldiers to start, but another truth was to be known. They all had to look out for each other, but, no matter what obstacles stood in their way, Captain Hawkeye was always to be protected.

And now finally, Falman completely understood why.

[flyinbanachab]

Comfortember 18: Hot Cocoa

Vato Falman had never understood the utility of heated toilet seats until his posting at Fort Briggs. Inside Briggs was much warmer than outside, of course, but it wasn't WARM. You kept your jacket on. Every hard surface- every metal doorknob, wooden chair, and yes, ceramic toilet seat- was uncomfortably cold to the touch. 

He sat now on a cold chair at a cold table in the mess, eating a blessedly, momentarily warm bowl of stew, reading a thermally neutral book. Soldiers and engineers gathered and dispersed around him, though no one asked to join. He resisted the temptation to label them "as cold as everything else here;" it was fine, he'd get to know them eventually. They say Briggs is a monolith, right? Can't be a monolith without incorporating new arrivals. 

A shadow fell across his book and he looked up to see the doctor, holding two ceramic mugs. She'd looked him over when he first arrived, approved him for duty, and that was the last he'd seen her.

"Hey there. Hot cocoa?"

Read on AO3 or...

He waved it off, wise to this weird little game. "No thanks, I don't have any cash on me."

She set it down in front of him anyway. "On the house. May I join you?"

He was suspicious. But also, he hadn't had a real conversation in a week. "Be my guest."

She took a seat across from him. "Sylvia Kenmore, but everyone calls me Doc."

"Vato Falman."

Doc nodded, evidencing the need for the headband. She had a lot of very fluffy hair. "I trust someone's already given you the speech about meeting new people here?"

"Uh... remind me."

She frowned slightly. "How long have you been here? A few days now, right?"

"A week." He was surprised she remembered. But then, Briggs probably doesn’t see a lot of new transfers. "I got the impression people around here keep to themselves." That, or he was being shunned for his association with Mustang. Not so farfetched an idea.

"Not necessarily, no, this is... things are weird, something's got folks on edge. I don't know what's going on." Was she fishing? Falman hummed noncommittally. Maybe she wasn't, because she kept talking. "Anyway, here's the thing. When you meet someone new, don't ask them about their past. Don't ask how they ended up here. And don't ask about their family."

Falman sipped his cocoa as if this were a perfectly normal thing to tell someone. He suppressed a wince: it was obviously made from a powder mix. Did Fort Briggs even have access to fresh milk?

Doc continued, "A lot of us are here for reasons we'd rather not talk about. A lot of us have... questionable pasts. If that's you-- fine, I don't care, don't tell me, doesn't matter. You're here now; you're Briggs now."

That gave his heart a good twinge. But it's true. He's Briggs now. Mustang doesn't have a team anymore. Doc paused to take a drink, and Falman ventured a question.

"So what should I talk about? I'm going to be meeting a lot of new people soon." He hoped.

"Oh you know, current hobbies, the weather-- ask the R&D guys what they're working on, if you want instant best friends. But be prepared for some very long technical answers."

Falman smiled. "I love long technical answers."

She laughed at that. She had a nice laugh, he thought. Not just because it was the first one he'd heard in a week. Pointing at his book, she said, "I believe it. What are you reading?"

He shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "Oh uh, it's a history of violin making." Was that very Briggs of him? Probably not. But her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires as she asked,

"Oh, are you a musician?"

"No, no," suddenly wishing he were. "I just read a lot. Are you? Oh--" he put his hand to his mouth-- "is that okay to ask?"

She laughed again, and Falman decided, yes, that was an objectively nice laugh. "Yep, see, present tense, current hobbies," she gave him a thumbs-up, "totally safe. I used to play the cello, actually," her voice took a wistful turn, "but I had to leave her behind. Too cold here, too dry, she'd crack and warp."

Falman nodded sympathetically. Cellos were happiest around 70 degrees, and he doubted Briggs ever got that warm. "I know the feeling. I was just thinking about how I never understood why heated toilet seats exist until I got here--" he stopped talking abruptly, realizing this was a really weird thing to say to another person, but she raised her mug to him with a grin.

"Cheers to that." She put on a mock-contemplative look. "Maybe I can requisition some under a medical pretext. You know..." a sly smile spread across her face, and she paused just a second, until Falman had a mouthful of cocoa.

"...preventing ass casualties."

Falman attempted to laugh, aspirated cocoa, and had a coughing fit instead. Doc looked extremely proud of herself. Once he had recovered, she continued in a more serious tone, "Another thing about Briggs - material goods are scarce. When you're done with that book, offer it up for trade."

He hadn't considered that, and felt a pang of anxiety at a future of book scarcity. "Thanks for the advice. Guess I'll have to find out who the other readers are." Implying there were some. That would be nice.

Doc jabbed a thumb at her chest. (Don't look at her chest! No matter how much that turtleneck wants you to! Wow, she’s got some nice-- no! He snaps his eyes up to hers.) "There's one right here. When it comes time, try and remember who was the first one to welcome you to the fort."

Falman suspected that, even if his memory were merely average, he could not possibly forget. He smiled. He hadn't smiled this much in weeks. "Consider it yours."

Doc stood then. "Welp, I better get back to it. Good talking, Falman." She remembered his name. "If you get lonely, you know where to find me."

"Sure! Nice to meet you, Doc. Thanks for stopping by."

She patted him between the shoulder blades on her way out, and Falman stared after her, wondering. Was she being friendly? Was she flirting? Or was she just after his book?

Well, only one way to know for sure. How soon was too soon to plausibly finish a book?

[hawkeyebabe]

Yellow, requested by @folieacutie

... “What is this?” she asked in mild surprise, looking around the office at her team. The item in question flapped in the air with the flick of her wrist.

Havoc’s mouth turned down and he shrugged his shoulders. Fuery vocally affirmed he did not know. Breda barely glanced up before returning to his book, saying nothing as a surefire sign that he was not involved, nor did he care. Only Falman could offer a clue to her sudden investigation.

“It was on your desk when I arrived early this morning, Lieutenant Hawkeye.”

Riza eyed them before looking back down at the envelope, ordinary in each aspect save for the incredible yellow hue of the paper and the named it was addressed to.

Riza Topaz Hawkeye.

Certainly, undoubtedly, head-tiltingly curious.

“What’s it say?” Havoc asked. She flipped it back up so its face was to him. Squinting his eyes to read, Havoc’s head suddenly jerked back in shock.

“Your middle name is Topaz?” he asked wildly, his tone indicating his disgust.

“No,” said Riza, dropping the letter to stare it on her desk. “It’s not.”

“Oh.” His relief, she thought regardless, seemed a little too obvious. “Why’s it say that then?”

“Do you believe if I knew the answer to that I’d be standing here dumbfounded?”

Havoc flipped the toothpick in his mouth to the left and shrugged.

“Well aren’t you going to open it?” asked Breda, his book forgotten and his eyes intrigued. The mystery of this outlying event had apparently earned his attention.

“I don’t know ma’am,” Fuery offered quickly with a nervous glance. “It’s certainly strange. I would trace it back to mailroom and find out where it came from first.”

“I doubt it’s anything dangerous, Fuery,” Riza said bluntly. “Although I appreciate the input.”

Breda laughed openly.

“It’s bright-ass yellow,” he chuckled, crossing his arms. “I can’t imagine it’s a death threat.”

“Although I can imagine if anyone were to get a death threat, it would be our Lucifer lieutenant,” Havoc laughed, slapping the hand Breda offered in impressment. Riza kept herself from rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

“What the hell are we talking about?”

All eyes snapped to the figure who had just entered the room. Roy Mustang, his hand still on the door, stared intensely around the room, his roaming eyes finally landing on Riza. In answer, she removed the tips of her fingers from the letter and placed both hands behind her back.

“It’s nothing sir, the men are only acting childish.”

“Death threats?” he clarified, his eyebrows raising and his hand releasing its hold on the door. It clicked shut quietly.

She glanced down at the carpet and shook her head, a brittle smile playing across her lips. A little laugh escaped her throat.

“No--”

“Falman, report,” Mustang interrupted, staring sternly at the warrant officer. The older man immediately straightened his back and snapped to attention.

“Sir, we are only hypothesizing the contents of a suspicious letter addressed to the first lieutenant.”

Havoc, recognizing the chance to stir up not only one superior, but two, pointed his finger at Falman and piped,

“I second that. Definitely suspicious.”

“Oh, really…” dared Mustang, stepping forward quickly, his strides long and powerful. He crossed the room in seconds.

“Colonel, honestly,” Riza tried, “Havoc is being dramatic--”

“Is this it?” he asked, not bothering to look at her but instead the glowing yellow envelope sitting atop the lieutenant’s other reports. Riza shot Havoc a dangerous look, which he returned with an apologetic smile and a lift of his hands in surrender.

“Topaz?” repeated Mustang with distaste as he flipped the letter over, a stark switch from his before fierce demeanor. His head snapped up to look at her.

“That’s not your middle name.”

“I am aware.”

He shoved the letter into her hands.

“Open it.”

Suppressing a sigh, Riza slid her thumb beneath the flap and gently ripped open the top. It seemed as though the room became incredibly silent as she slid the contents of the envelope out, holding them in her hands as the daisy yellow envelope was tossed to her desk.

Each individual in the room leaned forward in suspense.

She first studied the objects in her right hand before focusing on the letter. Eyes crossing the thick paper, reading each line, Riza’s face grew more and more appalled. She knew Mustang was watching her, that everyone was watching her, but the total slap of the letter could not be contained. Mustang continued to watch her read, becoming more tense as he did, until it seemed as though he couldn’t take the wait any longer. He snatched it from her and focused his eyes on the words as though they were the last things he’d read.

She wasn’t certain why, but she somehow knew Mustang’s reaction would not be a positive one. Her shoulders clenched as she awaited it.

“Holy shit, what does it say?” asked Breda incredulously. Riza dared a glance at her superior, knowing it was his body language that elicited such a question from Breda.

Indeed, Mustang’s jaw was dropped open, his eyebrows furrowed together, his fingers crinkling the edges of the paper. As he reached the end of the letter, the hardness of his features broke and he let out a single, breathy release of a laugh, a reaction in disbelief.

“Boss!” said Jean. “The hell does it say? Who’s after her?”

“Sir,” began Falman seriously, concerned etched in the lines of his face. “Please, inform us so we can quickly act against--”

“Guys,” Riza interjected, holding up a hand in exasperation. “It is not a damn threat. Please, relax.”

“Well what the hell is it!” Breda practically yelled, his patience depleted. Riza ran her palm over her face and nervously brushed the hair out of her face.

“Hawkeye?” Havoc prodded.

“Riza Hawkeye,” Mustang read suddenly. Rapt, the men silenced, and Riza’s groan was likely heard by all. “I must confess, I can’t take my silence for another day. You cross my cafe daily, each morning on your way to work, and each occurrence it is like seeing you for the first time.”

Mustang’s sharp, biting voice contested the words he repeated. Usually able to contain herself, normally proud of her stoicism, in that moment the side of Riza’s face was held in a hand.

“With your hair as bright as the sun, yellow like imperial topaz, you brighten each and every day. If you’d like a free cup of coffee, paid in company of me, your presence here would mean more to me than the day. Take this gift to remember how you light up my world with your dazzling sunlight.”

There was a long, terrible silence, before a roar of laughter erupted from the mouths of the men in the room. Even Fuery was smiling widely, his teeth showing as he watched everyone bend over in delight.

Finally finding it a little humorous herself, Riza took the letter back from Mustang and tossed it on her desk. Over the sounds of glee, Mustang took a massive sigh and looked over at her.

“What’s the gift?”

She opened her palm to reveal two studded earrings, both made of glistening topaz.

“A little tacky, if I do say so myself,” she said, feeling a smile creep up.

“Hawkeye,” Havoc laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Do you have any clue who this guy is?”

“I do have a suspicion,” she answered with a laugh of her own.

“So you gonna go see what’s brewin’ at the coffee shop?” winked Breda. “Gonna put on those earrings and let your hair down? Blind the guy with your “dazzling sunlight?””

“Absolutely not,” she said blankly, though her eyes were still alight with the humor of the situation. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mustang reach into his jacket.

“Then you won’t mind…” Mustang reached over and picked up the paper once more. He stuck out his foot and hooked his boot around the waste basket beside her desk, pulling it towards him and hovering the letter over it.

With the glove he’d stealthily put on, he snapped and sent the letter to hell. The ash drifted uneventfully down into the bin.

Riza, somewhat surprised by the action, tilted her head at him with a parted mouth.

“Damn, boss, something got you sour about that? Little bothered by the interest of another man?”

Mustang turned around to face Havoc. Riza, too, stared at him in mild horror. It seemed an accusation at most, and a prod at least. Mustang, the swift and clever man he was, did not hesitate.

“Do you think our lieutenant deserves a man who professes his infatuation through cheap poetry and costume jewelry?”

Smiling crookedly, somehow seeming amused, and perhaps unconvinced, by the answer, Havoc just shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Well neither do I. Simple as that.”

Mustang pushed the trash bin back to its spot and sauntered to his desk, apparently wiping himself of the conversation. As he sat in his chair, Riza stuck out her hand and offered him the earrings.

“Shall we burn these too, while we’re at it?” she asked, only half teasing.

“Nah,” said Mustang as he organized his day’s work. “I say you sell them. Get yourself a decent pair.”

The men began to still, muttering about the hilarity of the letter but quieting nonetheless, and after a few more remarks they eventually got back to their work. Perhaps it was her paranoia, but Riza thought Havoc was looking between she and the colonel one too many times. Wishing to distract herself, she threw the bright yellow envelope into the trash to join its ashen companion. She picked up a pile of files and brought them to Mustang’s desk.

“These need to go to the supply room by lunch.”

He took them from her, piling them atop another stack of files.

“Perhaps consider taking a different route to work, Lieutenant,” he offered quietly, looking up at her with a grin. “I imagine this person does a lot of staring.”

“He does,” she smiled back. “Trust me, I’ve taken notice.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“I’ve been meaning to inspect the park the city just renovated on the other side of my apartment. Seems a shorter walk, anyway.”

“Good. I’ll have these forms signed by noon.”

“Eleven, Colonel.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Eleven,” she repeated.

A corner of his mouth twitched and he gave her a little nod.

“Eleven.”

[hiccup-is-left-handed]

Royai Week Day 6: Four Times Riza Hawkeye Saved Roy Mustang and One Time He Saved Her

A/N: welcome to royai week extended edition! here’s the “seasons” prompt from @stories-dearheart and me. angst and hurt/comfort abound. enjoy!

Roy Mustang commonly said that Riza Hawkeye was the only reason he was alive. It was often said in a light, nearly-joking manner, so many of the people who heard the phrase laughed and moved on in the conversation without ever really thinking about it. Those close to both of them knew that it was the truth, and that the man they followed would not be there to lead them if not for Riza’s aim and her ability to be in the right place at the right time. Even fewer realized that it went deeper, beyond saving him from physical destruction. No one except Roy Mustang knew the extent to which those words were true.

Summer in Ishval was unbearable. The air felt capable of leaving scorch marks, much less the wavering, shifting sands around them. It felt as though every cell was slowly being cooked in preparation for the hungry jaws of war. Roy was sent out nearly every day, sent to set fire to an already-burning world and kill those who were struggling to survive. The ice he’d set around his soul did nothing to repel the heat of hundreds of people burning before him. His world narrowed as he performed his task, and performed it to the fullest extent, sending bolt after bolt of flames, pulled easily from the air around him, to make piles of ash. As he walked through the ruins of buildings, cinders made circles of air around his feet, ash turning the hem of his white robe to grey. His hands burned inside his gloves, but he did not take them off. He said nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing. 

Heard nothing, until the gunshot broke the silence like glass. Roy turned just in time to see a man with dark skin and white hair fall to his knees, and then to the ground, his blood already soaking into the sand. Looking up and just beyond, he saw the hooded figure, shining unbearably white in the sun, and knew immediately who it was. 

She didn’t mention it when they got back to camp. She never did. But nearly every soldier in their unit had been saved by the Hawk’s Eye, and they all had their ways of thanking her. His way was by slipping a handful of glass beads into her lap as he passed; a reminder to both of them that even in hell, flame alchemy could create as well as destroy.

To many, fall smelled of apples and cinnamon and staying indoors. To Roy, it smelled of things giving their lives so that other things could grow. He took as long as he could on his way to work every morning, and stared out the window more often than he read over his papers. 

Riza had noticed. She always noticed more about him than he did about himself. From her desk near the wall, she saw the way he looked at his hands, his eyes seeing the destruction they’d wrought. She saw the way his hands clenched, trying to hide the way they trembled. She saw the devil-may-care grin he flashed at everyone else that never fully reached his eyes, the way he turned his collar up, the way he swept his hair back from his forehead and winked at the secretaries. 

She saw him staring out the window when he was alone and knew he saw only sand. 

Roy looked up when she entered his office. She walked straight up to him and placed something on his desk, her palm hiding it from view as her eyes looked into his. He watched as she removed her hand and returned to her desk. When she was gone, he picked up the object and turned it over in his fingers. A glass bead the size of a pebble rolled into his palm. It rolled across scars that would never fully heal, across skin that had cracked and bled and sweat and frozen, across hands that were far too worn for the rest of his body but looked exactly as old as he felt. Hands that had taken more lives than some humans ever saw.

The bead reflected the golden light from the window into the eyes of the man who had made it. He cupped it in his hands--hands that had created warmth for soldiers on freezing desert nights, skin that had tingled as it dried tears and cupped faces and braided hair, scars that served as reminders of lessons learned and promises made.

When Riza next saw him staring out the window, she knew he saw the changing colors of the leaves on the trees.

The central heating was out in Eastern Command.

Most people just grumbled as they left their coats on and made extra coffee. Most days, Roy Mustang was most people.

Not today.

Today, Riza found him huddled on the floor behind his desk, shivering uncontrollably. She shut the door behind her and hurried to kneel at his side. “Sir! What’s wrong?”

“C-Cold,” he shuddered, his jaw trembling and his hands clutching white-knuckled at his coat. “It’s––it’s––c-cold––”

“Yes, but it’s alright.” She took his hands in hers, pressing them between her gloves. “You’re safe.”

“It’s—“ He tried to drag in a breath, the air shuddering in his lungs. His eyes were dilating, and seemed not to focus on anything. “L-Lieutenant.” 

“Look at me, Colonel.” She pulled one hand away and worked her glove off with her teeth. Then she touched his hand again, skin to skin. “I’m right here. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

He shook his head, his hand trembling violently in hers. She could hear the breath rattling in his lungs, his chest shuddering as he began to hyperventilate. She touched her gloveless hand to his face. “Colonel, breathe.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” She took off her other glove and took his face in both hands. “Come on, with me. Breathe.”

She talked him through, counting in time with his breathing and gradually slowing down as he regained control. She saw the moment his eyes cleared and locked onto hers, and she smiled shakily. One of his hands came up to cover hers. She continued to count, nodding encouragement.

Eventually, his breathing slowed. His hands were still shaking, but they had steadied slightly as they slipped into hers. Finally, he sighed, his head dropping slightly. “...Thank you.”

“Glad you’re back, sir.”

“You’ve saved me again, Lieutenant.”

“You’ve saved me more times than I can count.”

He didn’t have the strength to argue.

Spring may have come, but the sun still set early. Roy had been reluctant to stand, preferring to pace back and forth in the dark, occasionally stopping to stare out the window at the city below him. His head was filled with static, which was widely preferable to what he was trying not to think about. 

He was brought out of his daze by a sharp knock at his door. Frowning, he reached to pop the strap on his shoulder holster. There shouldn’t have been anyone at his door this late in the evening. Walking slowly and avoiding the loose floorboards, he made his way to the door and peered through the peephole to see who was outside.

Only to open the door a moment later, raising his eyebrows at the sight of the entirety of his team assembled on his welcome mat. 

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you off your ass,” Havoc replied cheerfully, shoving past Roy with two bottles in either hand. “Shift it, won’t you?”

Roy stood back, looking on bemusedly as five people shoved their way into his one-room apartment. 

“You still haven’t gotten a bigger place? Breda asked, his eyebrows raised. “Even my apartment is bigger than this.”

“And mine,” Fuery added, his arms full of snacks.

“I don’t normally need a bigger apartment,” Roy replied, blinking as the rest of them filed in, carrying what was obviously the fixings of a party in their arms. Riza was the last to come in. She had shed her military jacket and taken her hair down, and her arms were full of a dog who wanted nothing more than to lick Roy’s bewildered face. She dumped her dog into her Colonel’s arms so Hayate could accomplish his mission. “Maybe you should think about furnishing your apartment, sir.”

“Why? You guys never come over.” 

“Well we’re here now,” Havoc said cheerfully, handing one of the bottles to Falman. 

“You bet.” Breda reached into his bag and pulled out a six-pack of beer and a board game. “And we’re not leaving until you've laughed for at least five minutes.”

“I don’t understand why you’re here.” Roy looked around as the team set up on the floor, laying out the board game and opening the hamper of snacks. Hayate wriggled in Roy’s arms, and he set him down, letting the dog run over and begin to sniff at Falman’s shoes. Roy looked over at Riza, raising his eyebrows. “Did you have something to do with this, Lieutenant?”

“I know better than to leave you alone when you can't even make fun of Ed.”

“That has nothing to do with anything,” he huffed. But then he looked at her face, and couldn’t help but smile. 

“Come on, Colonel, are you gonna serve the drinks or not?” 

Roy turned to raise an eyebrow at Havoc. “You really need my help?” 

“You’re the host, didn’t want to take your job.” 

“I’m not a host, you invaded my apartment.” 

“It’s still your house.” 

Roy sighed, walking over and sinking to the floor. “Fine, I’ll pour.” 

“C’mon, Colonel!” Breda nudged him. “You act like you’re not happy to see us!”

“I suppose this is marginally better than pacing in my room alone.”

Breda raised an eyebrow. “Marginally?”

Roy looked to where Riza stood in the corner, her arms folded and her eyes roving over the party. They softened when they found his, and the barest smile graced her mouth. 

“Alright, more than marginally.” Roy smiled in return, his eyes not leaving her. “I’m glad you all are here.”

Roy Mustang was used to burning bodies.

Thanks to his extensive experience and Knox’s extensive research, Roy could give incredibly detailed lectures about the type and amount of pain any part of the human body would undergo at any point of the burning process. He knew exactly what intensity to make a flame in order to scar someone for life, and exactly how much more it would take to end that person’s life, depending on how quickly it needed to happen. He could pinpoint kneecaps, eye sockets, and trigger fingers, or he could reduce a whole person to ash.

He never dreamed that he’d have to use this information to burn the body of the person he cared about most.

And he never thought that she’d be thanking him for it.

But here they were. They had found an abandoned building a safe distance away from where the rest of the soldiers were celebrating. While Riza undressed, Roy had set a pile of rubble on fire to serve as a light source. Then she’d sat on a table with her shirt on her front and Roy had studied the tattoo he’d memorized one last time. He’d calculated exactly how deeply to burn her skin. Then he’d pressed his lips together and raised his hand.

He’d intended to burn her whole back. He really had. But when he was no more than a third of the way done, Riza had let out a gasp, and he just couldn’t do any more.

Now he was gripping her hand as tightly as he could. She wasn’t crying, and he hadn’t expected her to. Anyone else would have succumbed to tears by now, but not Riza Hawkeye. Not the girl who believed she deserved it. 

But he hadn’t expected her to laugh.

“Is it wrong,” she asked, “that I finally feel free?”

[a-proud-fangirl]

Truth or Dare and Something More

For Royai week day 3 - Catalyst

Summary: The Mustang unit goes drinking one Friday evening. Who knows what might happen during a game of truth or dare? (FFN)

Rating: M

Word count: 3,195

A/N: Okay the events in this story are somehow based on real events (e.g. drunk!Riza = me when I’m drunk). And this is another Royai + Team Mustang story bc aren’t they squad goals? Anyway, please leave a review! It’ll make me happy :)

The team usually hang out at Madame Christmas’ bar every first Friday of the month. They drink and drink until dawn comes. Before, Riza does not involve herself in the boys’ antics. Roy guessed that she grew tired of Jean calling her at three in the morning to pick up Roy so she began staying at the bar while the boys drank. Usually, she helps Madame Christmas in handling the bar, or she catches up stories with Vanessa and the other girls. But that Friday evening…

“Give me more of those!” Riza shouted at Jean, who was pouring her another shot.

Kain looked worried for his superior officer. “Take it easy, Lieutenant Hawkeye. You will-” But his words were interrupted by the lieutenant. She moved closer to Kain and hugged him as she covered his mouth. “Shhh, little Kain. Hush, hush, hush!” She began rocking him back and forth, and the sergeant major’s face went read as a tomato. “Everything will be alriiiiiiight,” Riza said in a singsong manner.

Falman, who was also drunk, cannot stop laughing. “I am now in love with drunken Hawkeye! She’s the complete opposite of sober Hawkeye! Why do we not get to witness this every month? That’s sad, sad, sad, and sad.” He banged his fist on the table, causing some of the drinks to spill.

Roy looked at Riza and he smiled softly. “That’s the reason why she usually does not drink – she gets drunk easily.” He must be staring at her for a long time, as he heard Jean whistle. The smoker gave Roy a knowing smile.

“Wh-why are you looking at me like Jean?!” Roy sputtered. His stammering caused Jean to grin widely. “As if you didn’t know how Riza acts when she’s drunk.”

“Well, Roy, how do you know that I know what a drunken Riza looks like?” Jean raised his eyebrow and smirked.

“You go out drinking with her and Rebecca sometimes,” Roy replied as he drank his beer, and Jean’s eyes widened.

“You go out with Rebecca?! How come you didn’t tell me that, Jean?”  Breda exclaimed. Jean pointed a finger at Roy. “Hey, man. That’s foul!”

Roy rolled his eyes and sniggered. “And that’s one point for me.”

“Why are you all so noisy?!” Riza removed her arms from Kain and sat straight, spilling some of her drink on Roy’s shirt. “I can’t enjoy the peace and quiet.”

“Let’s make this interesting!” Breda suddenly said. All eyes were on him. “Let’s play-”

Falman groaned. “Oh no, not truth or dare.”

“TRUTH OR DARE!” Breda stood up with his fists in the air. “Hey, Vanessa! More drinks here please!” He said as Vanessa laid new bottles of beer on the table.

“Come on guys, it’ll be fuuuuuun!” Jean exclaimed upon seeing the sullen faces of Roy, Falman, and Kain. Only Riza looked as excited as he and Breda were. Roy had a very bad feeling about this.

“Alright, same rules apply,” Breda sat down and cleared his throat. “Since I suggested this game, I will be the first one to spin the bottle and ask truth or dare. If you guys choose truth two times in a row, your next turn has to be a dare. If you don’t do what is being asked, there will be a penalty. And lastly, what goes on at this table stay at this table. Not a word of this to someone else.”

“WEEEEEEEEE! Okay!” Riza placed her arms around Roy and Kain. “Why do you guys look sad? Let’s be happy!”

Falman heaved a sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s get to it.”

Jean high-fived him. “See? That’s the spirit! How about you two?” He glanced at Roy and Kain, who were still trapped in Riza’s arms. “Sure,” Roy said, and Kain gave a thumbs-up.

“Yes! Let’s begin.” Breda grabbed one empty bottle on the floor and placed it on the center of the table. He spun the bottle, and it was really going fast until it finally stopped. The bottle pointed at Falman.

“Truth or dare?” Breda immediately asked.

“Uh,” Falman started to speak. “I’ll choose truth.”

Breda looked at the ceiling, as if it would provide him the question he would ask. Then his eyes brightened, and he placed his gaze back at Falman. “How do you feel about sex in groups?”

Riza started laughing, “It sounds interesting!” she shouted, and Roy had to cover her mouth. “Quiet down, Ri. You’re not the one being asked.” She was so drunk; he wanted to take her home. Also, the feeling that something will happen in this truth or dare game still hasn’t left the pit of his stomach.

Falman looks like he’s going to be sick. “HELL NO DUDE,” he exclaimed. “What shocked me the most is Riza’s interest in it,” Kain said.

“She’s drunk! She does not know what she’s saying,” Roy immediately said in defense.

Jean grabbed some nuts on the bowl and threw it at Breda. “What kind of stupid question is that?! Why are you thinking about group sex? Do you want the six of us to-”

“What the fuck, dude? Stop it right there,” Breda threw some nuts back at him

“Truth or dare should probe people. Like, get to know more embarrassing stories and facts we didn’t know. Find out some juicy stuff,” Jean wiggled his eyes at Roy and Riza, with the colonel wrapping his arm around Riza and her somehow leaning on him. Roy wanted to get out of there, but Riza keeps on drinking.

“Come on, Jean. My question was fine. Falman, you’re next.” Breda said. Falman sighed, relieved that he got an easy question, and reached to spin the bottle. This time, it pointed at Jean.

“Ohhh. Now this is interesting,” Roy suddenly sat up straight, and Riza followed suit. “Yes, because Jean is a very interesting person. Especially when he’s with-”

“Oh, so now suddenly you’re sober, Ri?” Jean cut her off. Roy laughed at the sight of him squirming on his seat.

“Truth or dare?” Falman asked. They wished that Jean would answer truth, but he replied otherwise.

“I have this gut feeling that you guys wanted me to answer truth, but on offense I trust my gut feeling,” Jean explained. “Dare.”

Kain shrugged. “Well we could still get the truth from a dare,” he pointed out.

Roy’s face lit up. “Hey, Falman. Make that dare about Rebecca Catalina.”

Jean’s face became as pale as snow. Riza chuckled. “You know, you’re cute whenever Rebecca comes up in conversations. Your face goes from normal to oh shit,” The four men roared with laughter as Riza was able to imitate him, while Jean began sulking in his seat. “You like her, don’t you?”

“And I thought we’re friends,” Jean sighed in defeat.

“I won’t tell heeeeeeer,” Riza chided him. “Come on, don’t you trust me?”

Jean shook his head. “The drunk you? No.”

Falman began to smirk, and Roy had a feeling this dare would be really, really fun. “Okay, then. I dare you to call Rebecca right now and tell her that you like her.” The remaining people in the table guffawed as Jean slammed his head on the table. “I am raising my white flag in defeat,” Jean said. “I’d rather do the penalty.”

“What? No!” Falman exclaimed. “It’s so easy, there’s the phone near you – you can easily reach it – dial her number, and tell her what you feel for her.”

“It’s in the rules, right?” Jean pleaded. “There’s a penalty when you won’t do the dare.”

“Yeah,” Roy agreed. “But sometimes my friend,” he leaned closer to the table. “You have to break the rules.”

Jean groaned. “This is so unfair! I hate all five of you.”

“You’ll love us when you two get together,” Kain added. “Now, do it.”

Riza stood up and tried to walk to the phone, but she failed. Roy was immediately on his feet. “Where are you going, Ri?” he asked.

“I should be the one who will dial Rebecca’s number - to be sure that Jean wouldn’t dial a random phone number and pretend.” With Roy’s help, she was able to go to the phone. Riza handed the phone to Jean after dialing Rebecca’s number.

The five people tried their hardest to stifle their laughter. Jean gave them the middle finger. His eyes suddenly widened. Rebecca must’ve answered.

“Uh. Hi, Becca. It’s me,” Jean stammered. The rest of them leaned forward to hear their conversation. “I just wanted to say that, uh,” he took a deep breath. “I’ve been falling in like with you for months, okay? Bye!” Jean slammed the phone back and placed a hand near his chest. He looked like he ran a marathon.

“I am so, so proud of you,” Breda moved towards Jean to give him a bear hug, but Jean pushed him away.

Kain looked confused. “You said the last part so fast; I didn’t understand some of the words.”

“He said I’ve been falling in like with you for months, okay? Bye!” Riza explained as she and Roy returned to their seat. “Falling in like? What’s that supposed to mean?” she pondered as she took another swig on her mug.

“Isn’t it obvious, Ri?” Jean reached for the bottle. “Okay, my turn!” He spun the bottle, and when it came to a stop Jean stood up and waved his arms in victory. “Oh, the time for my sweet revenge has finally come!”

The bottle pointed at Riza. Roy covered his face with his two hands. He had a feeling that what Jean would ask of Riza is something related to him as well.

“Yay! It’s my turn!” Riza cheered as she moved forward and placed her elbows on top of the table. “Truth!” she said with confidence.

It was now Roy’s turn to be become as pale as snow. He tapped his fingers on the table as the four men huddled and had a hushed discussion. Riza pointed the men as she whispered in Roy’s ear. “They looked like idiots,” then she shrugged and grabbed her mug, but Roy was fast enough to get it from her.

“You’ve been drinking too much, Ri,” Roy said. “I should get you home.”

But before Riza could protest Breda cleared his throat. “That won’t happen under my watch,” he said; they were finished discussing their “plan”.

“So, Riza,” Jean started to speak. “When was the last time you and Roy kissed?”

Riza blushed and gave them all a small smile. Roy found it cute, even though he knew that there was no answer to that question because they never kissed. Riza’s answer surprised him.

“Weeeellll we only kissed once. It was after the time Roy and Maes had a drink, about two to three months ago,” she said bluntly. His eyes widened and mouth formed a wide O. The four men were looking at both of them with eyebrows raised.

Kain was the first to speak. “You didn’t know?” Before Roy had the chance to reply, she spoke again. “He was drunk. Maes called me to bring him back to his apartment. Then when he arrived he kissed me as a “gesture of thanks” in his own words. Afterwards he puked on my shirt.”

The men began to laugh loudly, but Roy sat there trying to recall when that happened. Oh shit, he thought. He finally remembered. It was what Maes called as the “best night ever” because that was when Roy was drunkest. He didn’t remember the kiss, thought. Dammit! He cursed in his mind. Out of all the things he cannot recall.

“It was the best kiss I ever had, even though I hate Roy for puking on my shirt,” Riza continued as she faced him and began hitting his chest. “I hate you for vomiting on my brand new shirt! I could shoot you, but I won’t because you are a good kisser.” Then she smiled sweetly. All of her words were slurred, but he understood every word she said. He envied drunken Roy for having a chance to kiss her.

Jean nudged Breda’s arm. “See, that’s how you ask questions.” He had an evil grin at his face. “And because there’s one guy here who said that sometimes, you have to break the rules…”

Roy groaned, placing his head between his hands. Karma is really a bitch.

“Let’s give Roy his dare!” Jean exclaimed, and the men cheered.

“Woohoo!” cheered Riza as she yawned. “I can’t wait to see what Roy will do.”

Jean cleared his throat. “Settle down boys. Oh, and girl. Roy Mustang, I dare you to,” Jean looked at Kain. “Drumroll, please!” He did what he was told.

“I dare you to kiss Riza Hawkeye for five seconds.”

What kind of dare was that?! “Foul! Foul! Foul!” Roy shouted. Riza was quiet during the whole noise; her droopy eyes show that she already feels sleepy.

“No, it isn’t foul,” Breda said. “Come on, Roy. We are the only ones here at the bar. And we all know that Madame Christmas and the girls knew about the sexual tension between you two.”

“Ooohhh, sexual tension,” Riza murmured as she took a gulp from her beer.

Roy heaved a sigh. “Can I opt to do the penalty instead?” Why did he bother to ask? He knew what the answer would be anyway.

“No!” shouted the four men. Vanessa and the other girls stopped cleaning the bar to watch. “Come on, Roy. We know you wanted this for years.” Vanessa said.

Even Madame Christmas, who was about to head upstairs, tried to convince Roy to do the dare. “I’m going to bed girls, make sure that the bar is clean. Oh, and tell me tomorrow how Roy-boy’s dare went!”

Roy squeaked. “Not you too, Aunt Chris.”

“Why don’t you want to do it?” Jean asked. “If this is about the anti-fraternization law, let me remind you again that nobody sees us! You both are with the company of your friends.”

Roy shook his head. “No, it’s not just that. I have reasons,” he started counting in his hand as he explained. “First, I don’t want people watching,” hearing that made Vanessa and the girls leave. “Last, your first kiss with someone should be special.”

“But it isn’t your first kiss,” Kain rebutted. “Riza said that you two already kissed months ago.”

“Yeah, we did,” Riza murmured.

Roy shrugged. “I’m drunk when that happened, meaning I don’t remember the kiss,” he pointed his thumb at Riza. “She’s drunk now! She won’t remember any of this tomorrow. When we kiss, I want her to remember.”

“Fair point,” Kain said.

As the four men were about to have another one of their hushed discussions, Riza suddenly shouted. “Oh for heaven’s sake.” She pulled Roy close to her and kissed him.

Roy cannot comprehend what was happening. Her lips were soft and inviting. Despite being drunk, she was a good kisser. What more if she was sober? As he was about to deepen the kiss, she pulled away. He missed the feeling of her lips on his right away.

Riza laughed. “Are you guys happy now?” she asked the men. “He did the dare! He-” Riza turned green, and a split second after she began vomiting on Roy’s shirt before passing out.

“Are you alright?” Jean asked him.

Roy stood up and carried Riza. “Yeah, we’ll go ahead. I have to bring her back to her apartment.”

Days have passed, and he cannot stop thinking about it.

Roy didn’t really mind the vomiting part – he thought of it as his way of making up for all those times she brought him home. He was still thinking about the kiss they shared, and he is sure that she didn’t remember it. The next Monday she acted like nothing happened last Friday night, that she wasn’t drunk, that she didn’t play truth or dare, or that they didn’t kiss. A part of him was glad she didn’t remember what happened, but still he cannot deny that a part of him hopes that she remembers the kiss.

Later that afternoon, they both found themselves alone in the office. The rest of the team went home. Awkward silence filled the room, and in that moment Roy felt the ghost of her lips on his. He absentmindedly touched his lips, wishing that there would be another moment wherein he could kiss her again.

He heard Riza clear her throat. “So, Colonel,” she started to say. He looked at her from his desk; she was looking at the papers on her desk, but her hands were clasped together. “Lieutenant Havoc told me about the events last Friday night.”

Roy raised one eyebrow as he heard her take a deep breath. “I’m really sorry, Sir. I wasn’t aware of my behavior. I’ll never do it again.” She looked at him and her face was stoic, but Roy can see in her eyes that she was somehow embarrassed.

Riza clearly did not expect him to laugh. “Why are you being funny, Lieutenant? You look cute when you’re nervous.” He laughed until his stomach hurt, hitting the top of the table with his hands.

“I am not making you laugh, Sir.” Riza rolled her eyes. “Can you please acknowledge the fact that I am apologizing for my inappropriate behavior?”

There were tears in his eyes as he began to speak, traces of laughter evident in his voice. “Are you forgetting that I know how you act whenever you get drunk? So your actions do not offend me in any way – I somehow expected those antics to happen.”

“B-but Jean said we, uh, we…” Riza averted her gaze to the floor. Her cheeks began to redden. Roy finds it amusing, but he feels like he too was blushing.

“We kissed?” he asked her. What a very awkward conversation. She nodded. “Yeah, we did. I also found out that it was our second time. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Riza already found the courage to face him again. “What would you do if I told you then, Colonel?”

“Ask you if you want to do it again?” Roy sounded like he was confident, but deep down he was trembling. “Properly, this time. I want us to have our proper first kiss.”

There’s something in Riza’s eyes that makes him want to walk straight to her desk and bring his lips to hers. The way she looks at him makes him feel weak and small but he loved the feeling. “You’re confident, aren’t you Roy?” She asked.

“For you, I am.” He gave her a small smile. Time seemed to stop for a moment. Their eyes were locked on each other – yearning and love for one another and evident in their gazes but none of them acknowledged it out loud. It wasn’t the right time.

Riza broke off the eye contact. “As much I want to, Sir, not today. There will be a right time for it.”

He hates how she was always right. And as she left the office to head home, he can’t help but wish that the right time will soon come.

[poppo911]

You’ve Got Mail! (Chapter 2)

Word count : 2121

Read it on FFN here

Chapter 2 – The new teacher

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To : Heymans Breda, Roy Mustang

From : Jean Havoc

Subject : No kidding, the new teacher is smokin' hot

You guys met her already? Drop. Dead. Gorgeous.

I mean look, bro. That figure. Those full lips. Most importantly, that busty torso. I am starting to question the real motive behind that old man's decision to request her here. I thought she would just be a little relieve to our school's female staff shortage, but turned out she's just… wow.

Haven't got the chance to talk to her, though. Maybe I will, during the lunch break. But from what the kids told me, she is apparently pretty stern in her lessons. Dunno if that also applies in her daily life? Meh, even if it does, real men would love a little challenge! Although I do admit that she looks pretty intimidating from afar.

Yeah, she's maybe a little elder than most of us here, but hey, still better than having a hot for one of those schoolgirls, right? It's against my morale.

P.s doesn't she look surprisingly familiar?

Jean Havoc

Coach's Aide, Physical Education

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Alex Louis Armstrong

From : Denny Brosh

Subject : Just done processing that new Dutch literature teacher's biodata

Mr. Alex,

Olivier Mira Armstrong is your elder sister?! Why didn't you tell us earlier?!

And yes, despite her rather-normal size, she still got a monstrous strength, just like you. I tried to crack a joke in order to brighten up the air during our data processing, but apparently she's not into my sense of humor.

Gotta ask Mr. Christopher to provide me a new desk.

Denny Brosh

Staff, Administrative Affairs

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Heymans Breda, Jean Havoc

From : Roy Mustang

Subject : Re: No kidding, the new teacher is smokin' hot

'Morale'? It's not something I expect from a pervert who had just described an adult female's body parts so… explicitly.

And no. Haven't met her yet. Hawkeye's going to kill me if I don't enter her class soon.

Sigh, women.

Roy Mustang

Teacher, Chemistry

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Jean Havoc, Roy Mustang

From : Heymans Breda

Subject : Re: Re: No kidding, the new teacher is smokin' hot

Jean. I have no words for this. Go see Ross, maybe she can knock some common sense into your head.

And don't be such a hypocrite, Mr. Casanova. Questioning someone's 'morale'? Think we don't know what you do in your free time?

The only one sane enough here,

Heymans Breda

Teacher, Mathematics

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Edward Elric

Cc : Maria Ross

From : Riza Hawkeye

Subject : Detention Notice

The student Edward Elric will be detained after school on March 7 from 3:30 p.m until 4:30 p.m for the following reason(s):

Intentionally drenching Mr. Roy Mustang, a chemistry teacher, in water by putting a bucket full of them above the door right before he entered the classroom.

Signed,

Riza Hawkeye

Teacher, Biology

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Riza Hawkeye

From : Maria Ross

Subject : Detention notice already? On the second day of school?

Your class, Riza, I swear. Not even Mr. Hughes' class last year can compare to this. It's allright, though, we will work things out.

Keep up our spirit,

Maria Ross

Teacher, School Guidance Counselor

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Izumi Curtis

Cc : Sig Curtis, King Bradley

From : Heracle Poarma

Subject : Re: Where are all the al dente?

Ishvalla help us, I did NOT steal your pasta, Mrs. Curtis.

Did Bradley fail to inform you? Since my class starts on Friday, I took a few days of leave right after the winter break to visit my families back in Ishval. How do you think I steal all your pasta from here? Telekinetics? Please.

And don't you dare taking back those pans. Accreditations is just a few months away and if our institution's grade goes down just because its Culinary Art Laboratory got no untensils in it, that old Grumman will surely fire me.

I'm not apologizing for this late reply. It's rather hard to get any internet signal here in my hometown, and that's hardly my fault.

(P.s Bradley, this is what happened when you don't do your job properly.)

With Ishvalan pride,

Heracle Poarma

Teacher, Cullinary Art

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

Sent from mobile

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To : Heracle Poarma

From : King Bradley

Subject : Re: Re: Where are all the al dente?

Mr. Scar,

I do not recall reading 'informing staffs for their coworker's leaves or absences' on my job description. Get your facts straight.

With Amestrian spirit,

King Bradley

Staff, Head of Administrative Affairs

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Roy Mustang

From : Miles

Subject : My deep condolences

I'm sorry to hear that you got pranked by Elric, again, for the only-God-knows-th time.

But no, being soaked head-to-toe is not a valid reason to neglect works. We are still going to hold the meeting. The principal has something to say regarding the accreditation preparation, so make sure to dry yourself properly before 2:45 p.m this afternoon.

Regards,

Miles

Teacher, Physics

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Sciezka

From : Vato Falman

Subject : Book Request

Ms. Sciezka,

Could you please look up for the book titled Series of Complete History of Amestris: Amestrian Geopolitical Aspects from Time to Time? I remembered correctly that I had put it back on its original place in Section B, rack number 9, row 3, thirteen books from the left after I read it yesterday. This morning, though, I went to pick that book and it was not there. I was catching my next class, thus I had not enough time to search for it and left.

I will appreciate it if you could fetch that for me to pick up after my meeting.

Thank you in advance.

Vato Falman

Teacher, History

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Riza Hawkeye

From : Roy Mustang

Subject : To my Immortal Beloved

Take, o take those lips away

That so sweetly were forsworn,

And those eyes, the break of day,

Lights that di mislead the morn:

But my kisses bring again,

Bring again—

Seals of love, but seal'd in vain,

Seal in vain!

Eternally yours,

Roy Mustang

Teacher, Chemistry

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Roy Mustang

From : Riza Hawkeye

Subject : Re: To my Immortal Beloved

Mr. Roy,

Was the water really cold that it freezed your cerebral vasculatures, or did the bucket hit you hard enough it gave you brain concussion? Last time I checked, you were fluent in the language of chemistry when you were writing your thesis on applied organic chemistry under my father's advisory, and suddenly you are quoting Shakespeare.

Let me fetch you a cup of hot coffee from the pantry to make you feel better.

P.s I truly apologize for my student's behavior.

Regards,

Riza Hawkeye

Teacher, Biology

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Maes Hughes

From : Roy Mustang

Subject : (No subject)

HOLY SHIT MAES STOP MESSING AROUND WITH MY PERSONAL COMPUTER WHEN I AM AWAY FROM IT DRYING MY FCKN CLOTHES.

Roy Mustang

Teacher, Chemistry

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

Sent from mobile

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To : Roy Mustang

From : Maes Hughes

Attachment : photo_0344 .jpeg

Subject : In my defense, I forgot that you got all your accounts connected to your cellphone

You are the one to talk, Roy-boy.

Thanks to me, you are now relishing a nice cup of coffee and a nice conversation with her. Don't think I can't see your suppressed smirk, you cheeky little rascal. (And yes, you owed me for that—grant my daughter's wish and spend the next Saturday with her at our home, and it'd be paid off.)

Don't bother replying to this mail—just enjoy your time.

P.s Ow silly me, who would expect you to take your eyes off hers to check on incoming e-mails when you're looking at her like this?

(Click here to display photo_0344 .jpeg)

Totally going to the school's wall bulletin.

Elysia's Loving Dad,

Maes Hughes

Teacher, English Literature

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : All contacts

From : Rebecca Catalina

Subject : URGENT NOTICE: Roy Mustang

Has anybody seen Mr. Roy Mustang? He was supposed to hold a meeting with the Principal thirty minutes ago. I've tried to reach him but all my e-mails and phonecalls got no response.

Should anybody know his whereabouts, please do ask him to go to the Principal's office ASAP.

Trust me, Roy, you won't fancy the Principal when he's in a foul mood.

Rebecca Catalina

Staff, Principal's Secretary

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Rebecca Catalina

From : Riza Hawheye

Subject : Re: URGENT NOTICE: Roy Mustang

He's dashing to Grumman's office at full speed. Clumsy boy didn't even tell me he had a meeting to attend.

Anyway Beck, please do wait for me a little before we head home? I've got something to deal with Edward after school. I'll fill you in later.

Regards,

Riza Hawkeye

Teacher, Biology

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Vato Falman

From : Sciezka

Subject : Re: Book Request

Sorry for the late reply, Mr. Falman.

I got stuck under a heap of books until Kain helped me (glad he passed by!), but at last I found you the book.

You can take it from the librarian desk anytime!

Warmest regards,

Sciezka

Staff, Head of Library and Information Services

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To : Heymans Breda, Roy Mustang

From : Jean Havoc

Subject : Abort mission. I repeat; abort mission

Guys hear me out.

Olivier Mira Armstrong went from dropdead gorgeous to downright scary in less than two minutes I talked to her.

Gonna tell you guys later. I still have to assist Alex in the Gymnasium after school.

P.s How could he forget to mention that they are siblings? And give me initial warnings, while at it?

Just got kneed right in the nuts,

Jean Havoc

Coach's Aide, Physical Education

East Amestris Senior High School | 75 Sycamore Lane, East City

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To be continued

So let's just assume that the school starts on the second week of March—the transition between winter and spring, in the northern hemisphere. Class of 2017 (the year in which this fic was published) has just entered the first year of high school (tenth grade), thus class of 2016 is the sophomore, and class of 2015 has entered their senior year, ready for college. I tried to make the setting as real as possible, and since the school system in my country is not exactly the same with the one here, please tell me if there's something odd!

And from we all can infer already, I made up some names for Greed (Christopher Vinther) and Scar (Heracle Poarman), because we can't just write 'Greed' and 'Scar' in their e-mail signatures! I still retain those as their nicknames tho, for practicality. If anyone is interested on how I picked their names, just let me know in the review box and I will send you a PM!

Maybe some of you guys found it odd already why we have 'Xingese', and 'East City' here, alongside with 'real' things like 'Dutch' and 'English'. Well... I'd like to make it feel like an actual modern!AU, and writing things like 'Cretan literature' and 'Drachman classics' would still leave us impressions on the real 1900-ish FMA universe. But leaving several places 'Amestris' and 'Ishval' behind will make it seems 'wrong' as they are so connected with our characters T_T I do apologize if it made you guys uncomfortable!

Oh right, and Olivier still hasn't get much screentime yet—she's still new to her surroundings, after all. And considering she's not one to easily mingle well with everybody, I'm still troubled on how I should include her more soon T_T

This story will have its own plot, but really, that's not the main concern here. I just love to write the dynamics between each characters, how they communicate through texts, and their antics.

Do tell me if there's anyething you like, or do not like. I am open to critics and suggestions :)

Thank you for reading! Reviewreviewreview

(p.s I've got a few chapters ahead written already. Hopefully I can update this one weekly despite my hectic academic agenda!)