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kingofthewilderwest · 6 years

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Just wanted your opinion on something. Roy's Gate of Truth has the circle for fire alchemy on it. So does this mean that Roy was always meant to have learnt fire alchemy, or his gate has fire alchemy because he learnt it?

Oooooooooooo this is REALLY interesting. I’d never thought through a person’s Gate of Truth and whether it’s about who they innately are (or are fated to be), versus who they have created themselves to be.

I haven’t followed to see if there’s fandom discussion on the topic, so everything I’m going to postulate below about these doors is going to be my novel ideas.

Hopefully everything makes sense… I wrote this between 1 and 4 AM.

I think the key to answering this question lies in Father’s Gate of Truth. I’ll get to that… later. Bear with me.

But first.

For readers who didn’t notice this before, every character has a different door design when they open the Portal of Truth. That’s a fascinating detail and one Arakawa wouldn’t have drawn without attention or intent. She’s filled FMA with tiny details, down to naming the country “Amestris” after the wife of Xerxes, or giving essentially all military characters names based off WWII vehicles. She’s plopped in interesting details regarding the Seven Deadly Sins, according to other analyses I’ve seen. From what I know, the punishment for Wrath is supposed to be dismemberment, Lust being smothered in fire… sound familiar? So Arakawa wouldn’t have drawn separate, intricate gates for every character without meaning to for good reason.

So here are three doors for our alchemists, each one of them different:

All of them are detailed but very different. Ed’s and Al’s are more similar to each other than Roy’s is to either of them. Both Ed and Al have designs that roughly look like trees (or plants) stretching to the sky, with roots growing beneath them.

Edward Elric’s Gate

Ed’s door is covered in Latin and Hebrew words like “Elohim Sabaoth” and “Adonai” - names of G-d, linked together by branches labeled “Sephiroth”…

…as well as, from what admittedly VERY little I know of the Kabbalah, the angels of the Tree of Life.

(Please don’t quote me as an expert for this stuff. I’m trying my best with this information I’m reading up on, but I’ll freely admit I’m imperfect and with limited knowledge myself. You’re free to nicely educated me if I say something inaccurate; I will be appreciative of learning more and adjusting appropriately).

It’s to note that even in the 2003 book “Fullmetal Alchemist Profiles,” it contains a section on the Kabbalah. To quote the book:

Some time in the 16th century, the Kabbalah became known throughout the whole of Europe. It seems unlikely that it has any prior connection to alchemy, which developed on its own individual course, but there is one thing that the Kabbalah shares with alchemy: both teach that the world came out of G-d (=one) who created it, and that the human beings (=all) who inhabit the physical world can become closer to G-d through study.

The Sephiroth tree diagram shows the Kabbalah’s Arcana. The Sephiroth tree is comprised of ten spheres (Sephira), three pillars, and 22 paths (channels). Each number has a very specific meaning but we will abbreviate it here.

The tree is essentially a map that shows how the things that came from G-d’s world - a nebulous, untouchable domain - become connected to the physical world of the four basic elements.

What’s interesting is that this book specifically brings up the Kaballah and connects it with the “One is all, all is one” phrase. That’s a phrase central to Amestrian alchemy… at least, to a certain few people who practice Amestrian alchemy. The concept of “One is all, all is one” is a powerful epiphany to Izumi Curtis when she’s struggling through her month of trial in the Briggs mountain wilderness. She passes it onto her students, Ed and Al, and it becomes important to them.

(It’s also a concept that Truth describes itself with… saying it is “perhaps truth, or perhaps all, or perhaps one”).

And this concept, more or less, makes its appearance onto Edward Elric’s door.

But why all the names of G-d?

And why this tree with its roots at all?

Does this have something to do with how Ed is like an Icarus, reaching beyond his power to get too close to the sun, a scientist acting too much like God himself? Is this Gate a reflection of that life-influential action in Edward’s life, or a fate set in stone carved in the face of the door?

Or something else?

Well. I want to contrast this with Father’s door.

Father’s Gate

It’s.

Blank.

Wow.

I think that this door, paired with Father’s conversation with Truth, might give some insight for what’s going on.

Father: Why won’t you become mine, God?Truth: Because you never believed in yourself. You thought you could make God’s power your own. Don’t make me laugh. You think stealing something powerful makes you great? You’re nothing but a cunning thief. You should have stayed satisfied inside the flask where you belong. All you’ve ever done is use the strength of others to grab at godhood. You haven’t grown at all. Father: I wanted to become a perfect being! I wanted to understand God! I wanted to know everything about this world! So, why do you oppose me? Who are you?!Truth: I am what humans call the world… or the universe… or truth… or all… or one. And… I am you. You called Truth “the arbiter of order” that “keeps men in their place.” That’s what you said, wasn’t it? And so, just as you said… I’m going to show you your proper place.Father: Stop! I don’t want to go back. No… I don’t want to be imprisoned there again! Truth: The Truth brings despair to those who dare reach above their station. This is the end you wished for.

What strikes me about this conversation is several things.

Truth has power over the homunculus, the dwarf in the flask, the character we’ve known as Father. Despite the fact Father is a man-made creature and not “directly” from God’s fingertips or God’s typical order of life business (birth, the circle of life, what have you), Truth has control over Father, too. Truth is the one who can arbitrate Father’s punishment. Truth is the one who can put Father in his place. This means that, if we wanted to talk about whether or not Father was Meant or Fated to take his path… whether his actions were part of predestination or design… then Truth’s got just as much power over Father, and just as much power to influence Father’s door… as someone like Mustang, Izumi Curtis, or the Elrics. So Truth conceivably could have given Father his door’s decoration (or lack thereof).

Truth says that Father’s problem is he is a thief who took others’ strengths. Father never gave anything or contributed anything. Furthermore, according to Truth, Father “[hasn’t] grown at all.”If you want to think about people in a tabula rasa-esque respect, then we all allegedly start out as clean slates, with nothing predisposing our minds. It’s through our lives and experiences that we become who we are. When I see Father’s blankass doorway and hear it combined with Truth saying Father never gave anything and never grew… the thought crossed my mind that, “Father’s nothing, then, just like his doorway.”

Truth chastises Father for not believing in himself or growing himself. This suggests that Father has the free will to have made choices otherwise. Let’s not get deep into the rabbit hole of determinism, free will, and compatibilism… but if Truth is punishing Father for his own actions, and Truth is admonishing Father for never believing himself (with the implication he COULD have believed in himself), then I’d say we have a direction we can interpret the doorways. It’s not Truth creating a blank doorway for Father to fulfill, but Father’s actions influencing what his doorway looks like.

At least, this is insofar as we want to speculate the Gates of Truth are relevantly connected to the life of the person who opens them. I’m saying this since we could maybe find other ways to interpret this imagery that don’t involve “my choice made this doorway’s design.”

But let’s go with the idea that Father’s actions have “made” his door blank. Then Ed’s door, and Al’s door, and Roy’s door, would come because of what they’ve done.

Considering as Ed made the choice to march beyond God and reach for the sun, and Ed lives in an alchemy-centered philosophy where “One is all, all is one,” his door isn’t too out of line for what we might expect to see, given his life’s biggest decisions and focuses.

Roy Mustang’s Gate

So here we’ve got a screencap of Roy’s gate. Well, part of it. You can see the interlocked triangle pattern and what could be two basilisks weaving through the geometry. There’s a sun-like icon in the bottom center. We also have a circle in the very center of the two triangles.

It’s not exactly the same as the transmutation circle Roy wears on his gloves, nor is it the same as what Berthold Hawkeye tattooed on his daughter’s back.

However, I’d say it’s evocative enough. There’s a sun, the same-ish geometric pattern, and the same use of basilisks or snakes in each pattern.

So, a reference to Flame Alchemy, as you say.

But it’s not just the act of “oh snap snap spark spark” being represented here.

The inclusion of our snakey snakey friends in the door - which is present in Riza’s tat but not Roy’s glove - harks back to Roy’s origins with Flame Alchemy. How he learned it. How he grew with it. How it changed his life. How these experiences fueled his own motivations and intentional self-aggrandizement.

How he made himself (in contrast to Father, who never grew at all).

How he made… his Gate of Truth.

This is how (going back to the Kabbalah idea) he connects the things from his world and life with God’s/Truth’s realm and judgment.

Roy’s life does circle around Flame Alchemy, but it’s because of his most influential memories and the greatest decisions he’s made. It’s because of Flame Alchemy that he met Riza and learned how to use this force. It’s because Mustang decided to take this dangerous alchemy to the military that he became a State Alchemist. It’s because he became a State Alchemist that, when he obeyed Amestrian military orders, he became a major (haha, get the pun) player in the Ishvalan War. It’s because he participated in ethnic genocide and became so conscious-stricken about it that he decided to become Führer. And ever since then, Roy’s life and decisions and motivations and morality and choices and determination have all centered around this goal: become Führer, change his country for the better.

Father didn’t make himself anything. Father only tried to steal from others. Father tried to purge himself of the Seven Deadly Sins and leave himself with nothing - literally make himself an empty door with emptiness. Father’s door is as empty as what he made himself. Roy Mustang’s been trying to grow himself into a responsible leader who can scale up the ranks of the military and assume control of his nation. Roy’s door is a summation of his motivations: the causes which have made him this way, and what he’s using as an inspirational launching point to make himself better.

So I’d say there’s a case to be made that, as you said, Mustang’s “gate has fire alchemy because he learnt it.” But more than that, it’s what he’s used to craft himself as a moral person.

We have the choice to try to better ourselves. Roy’s decisions and actions to try to better himself have stemmed from his experiences surrounding Flame Alchemy.

The Message of Choice in Fullmetal Alchemist

This idea fits with the messages emanating across Fullmetal Alchemist. FMA isn’t about fate. It’s about the power of your choice.

I mean… even in the first titular opening, YUI is singing:

I still have too long a life ahead just to give up and drop off all these dreams. I just want to try and fix all the things that I’ve left undone. I thought that I could reach something carried over I saw within my dreams, and yet I stumble on all my actions on this road that’s in front of me. It’s not like I want things to go back to the way before. All I want is to open my eyes and feel the sun.

You can’t let every single sin end with tears; wear them proudly on your sleeve along with your fears. It’s like you’re waiting for someone to draw near. In a maze of emotion, there comes a day where you find a way to escape - a blank page, now I’m writing out my own fate; I’ve grown tired of running away from a thing called reality.

FMA’s story and its themes are very much hinged on choice.

Scar doesn’t have to be a serial killer terrifying State Alchemists. He can choose to help his people not through terrorism and revenge, but through rebuilding and support. He can unite his people together to save Amestris. He can act as a religious authority in Ishval once the land gets reopened, helping to preserve the cultural and religious identity of his people. Through Scar’s choices, he moves through a powerful redemption arc that shows that, while we can’t always control other peoples’ horrendous acts, we don’t have to commit horrendous acts in turn to make a meaningful difference. The character arc works because of his choices. He will listen to his God and see what his God’s will is. God’s authority and power isn’t irrelevant. But Scar is the one who must enact that choice himself. He is not fated to one path and his people don’t have to be fated to die.

It’s about his choice.

Ed and Al didn’t have to bring Trisha back to life, but because they tried, they reaped the consequences. Truth took away their bodies. It’s their choices that put them in this unpleasant state, and it’s their choices and determination that lead them to recovering Ed’s arm and Al’s body.

It’s about their choice.

Roy and Riza live a life of guilt due to Ishval. There’s no way that they can undo the damage they’ve done. There will forever be consequences because of their sins. But they can choose to do whatever is in their power to take responsibility for their wrongs, to provide relief for victims of the past, and to try to prevent future tragedies.

It’s about their choice, too.

And thus it makes sense for us to read the Gates as “everyone made their gates the way they are” rather than “the gates made them the way they are.” It’s because FMA resonates with the understanding of our choices, good or bad, and what comes of them.

Roy Mustang’s gate by this reading then says that it’s through his choices that his gate has Flame Alchemy. It’s about his choice to follow orders in Ishval that led to his guilt. It’s about his choice to become Führer to take better responsibility for Ishval’s tragedy. It’s about how Roy uses Flame Alchemy, yeah. Because Flame Alchemy is connected to his greatest experiences, tragedies, dreams, and self-directed growth.

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writing-royza · 6 years

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Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul - Chapter Ten: Escalating Concerns

A/N: Happy… well, Monday, everyone. Sorry for the delay; apparently getting married makes you crazy amounts of tired. So please belatedly enjoy this chapter!

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Ten - Escalating Concerns

EASTERN MILITARY HEADQUARTERS

1025 HOURS, APRIL 16

"What do you mean, 'he's already here?'" One hand holding the telephone to his ear, the other curled in a fist on top of his desk, Hakuro gritted his teeth, and forced the next word out of his mouth. "…Sir."

"What I mean is that Colonel Mustang and his adjutant should have arrived in East City sometime early this morning, and that they are likely to pay you — as acting head of the garrison — a visit sometime today or tomorrow." Even over several hundred miles' worth of telephone cable, Grumman managed to sound smug and superior, at least to Hakuro's ear. "They're in the middle of an active case that —"

"With all due respect, sir —" And not much of that, really. "— I can take care of any investigation in East City. Surely, the Colonel and his aide are still recovering from their wounds from the battle two weeks ago. They shouldn't be back on active duty, much less —"

"If the doctors cleared them to work and travel, then I believe the doctors," the old man said firmly. "Furthermore, I trust the judgement of both Mustang and Hawkeye, and if they say they feel fit to work, then they are fit to work." His voice took on a hard edge. "I say this not only as a senior officer that knows them both rather well, but as Führer-President. Do I make myself clear, General?"

The subtle emphasis on his rank was enough of a warning flag to bring Hakuro's temper back under firm control. "…Yes… sir." He almost said 'Your Excellency,' but couldn't quite force himself to do that much. "My apologies. Thank you for notifying me, and I'll expect the Colonel sometime soon."

"Good. Whatever information and aid they need, see that they get it. I'll expect a progress report on this in a week."

There was no goodbye, simply the click of the call being terminated. Hakuro replaced the receiver, and sat still behind his desk, working to keep a leash on his anger. Yes, it was loathsome to have to deal with Mustang, especially at the behest of an old fool like Grumman, but it was part of the job. As long as he stayed professional, he could muddle his way through this. Once he was out the other side, things would look better.

This semi-good feeling did not last more than five minutes, when his secretary tapped politely on the door and opened it to announce, "Colonel Mustang and First Lieutenant Hawkeye to see you, sir."

Jaw clenched into what he hoped was an approximation of a courteous smile, Hakuro got to his feet… and hesitated when the younger man stepped inside. Dark sunglasses obscured Mustang's eyes, his Lieutenant's right hand gently touching his left arm, clearly guiding him. A set of file folders were tucked under her left arm.

In a moment of pure shock, Hakuro forgot his dislike for the ambitious upstart, a slightly numbed thought of That's right… he's been blinded…. running through his mind.

Before he could recover his loathing, he came around the front of the desk and indicated one of the visitors' chairs in front of it. "Seat him here, Lieutenant."

It seemed Mustang had different ideas. Halfway across the floor, on some invisible cue to his Lieutenant, both of them stopped and came smartly attention. "I appreciate the concern, General. While Lieutenant Hawkeye is still occasionally needed to help me with more dimly lit rooms, my eyesight is returning." His polite smile took on the kind of edge that generally meant there was some sort of private joke, but he didn't elaborate. "Aside from that, we're both working toward fully active duty as quickly as we can, hence why we're here."

A twinge of annoyance tried to manifest itself as a twitch in his cheek, but Hakuro forced it down under the overarching cover of his professional façade. "Of course. The Führer-President called my office this morning to tell me to expect you, and give me a brief overview of the case you're working." He couldn't quite bring himself to say Grumman's name, not after the old fox had pulled the rug out from under him during the lead-up to the Battle of Central. "That being said, I'd like to hear things from you yourself. At ease, both of you, and sit down."

The three of them settled around the desk, and Mustang began going through a paraphrased breakdown of the crimes being investigated in Central. The gory details that he glossed over were shown rather than told; Hawkeye wordlessly produced the appropriate crime scene photos with flawless timing, passing them to Hakuro across the desk.

He grimaced, feeling his breakfast shift uneasily in his stomach. He gave the photos a perfunctory glance but nothing more, listening until the end of Mustang's little narrative.

"And so, given the information from Second Lieutenant Catalina, you believe this killer came East somehow from Central?" He folded his hands on the desk blotter. "What's to say that the East City killings weren't done by a copycat?"

Lieutenant Hawkeye shifted minutely. "If I may, General, it's our opinion that it would take a seriously disturbed mind to kill in the way the Central City killer does. For there to be two such-minded individuals at the same time…." Her usually stoic features took on a hint of distaste. "Frankly, sir, it doesn't bear thinking about."

He couldn't argue with her there, and so nodded in acknowledgement. "I understand. I can even agree… to a certain extent. But I think we'll need some form of concrete proof before we can paint all these crimes with the same brush. Something aside from the murder method that's common to all scenes."

He was used to reading Mustang's moods and opinions in the younger man's dark eyes, and so the sudden tension in his shoulders meant nothing without further context. It could have been wariness, anger, interest, discomfort….. With those dark glasses on, he had succeeded in both masking whatever injury he had incurred as well as his deeper thoughts.

"With all due respect, General," he said, choosing his words carefully — ah, so the tension signalled wariness, "the only common link between the murders is the method in which they were carried out. The victims all come from different backgrounds, no two look particularly similar, there's no social connection that we can see, the ages very from a child to middle age…." He shrugged expansively. "The only correlation is how they were killed."

Hakuro sat back in his chair, giving the two of them a pointed look. "Then I suppose you'd best figure out some other way they're all related, shouldn't you?" When neither of them answered, he continued. "I think I've heard enough. At the Führer-President's direction, you have free rein to investigate what you need to here in East City. Anything of pertinence will be reported to myself as well as him. Is that clear?"

There was a brief stiffening in Mustang's jaw that might have been him clenching his teeth… or merely swallowing a more blistering retort than the cool, quiet "Yes, sir," that he murmured instead.

"Good." He paused for a moment, then changed tack. "Now, I heard the two of you were injured during the Battle of Central, but I don't believe I know what exactly happened to you. If you're going to be trusted with this case, I'd like to know the extent of your injuries so that I can gauge how much you can handle."

This time, the tension came to Hawkeye's shoulders in time with the faintest sheen of indignance and anger in those usually calm brown eyes. Hakuro had overheard stories from others under his command what an absolute terror the slender sharpshooter could be when her temper was roused, but that didn't scare him.

The expression didn't falter as her gaze met his, though it didn't progress any farther. Mustang's head twitched minutely in his adjutant's direction, before he answered calmly. "As I said, my eyesight was temporarily put out of commission, but it's recovering, and I'm told I should regain full use of my eyes. Aside from a good amount of my back being scraped up by a fall, I'm entirely fine."

Hakuro hadn't taken his eyes from a still watching Hawkeye. "And you, Lieutenant? You're looking paler than I remember."

Her voice was quiet, but clear. "A man involved in the corrupt cabal against Führer-President Bradley attempted to kill me by cutting my throat," she said, her words deliberate. "Fortunately for me, he only nicked one part of my neck, but it was enough that I lost a fair amount of blood. I should fully recover all that I lost within in the next two weeks, but until then, it's nothing that should keep me from working."

For a moment, he sat silent, unsure of what to say in the face of this revelation. He knew what she really meant by 'corrupt cabal,' and had read reports from Major-General Armstrong and her brother as to what they had witnessed… making Hawkeye's subtle message all too clear. This deceptively passive woman would not be killed easily, nor would the usually cocky and smug man beside her.

"Would that every soldier in Amestris had the fortitude you've shown," he said, careful not to add 'because then perhaps I could get rid of you two.' Instead, he shifted in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "Let's go back to the question of this serial killer you've been chasing. While I can appreciate that you're both well enough to be in the field once more, I'm not sure why you wouldn't simply continue working the murders in Central while a team here in the East investigates whatever happened here. It could save you a lot of time and travel."

Mustang was already shaking his head. "That's true, but information never flows as smoothly between two cities so far apart. Not to mention that my team started with this case in Central, and to try and explain the particulars to another team here in East City would take more time than it's worth. We've left Breda and Fuery to follow up with things in Central, but Lieutenant Hawkeye and myself came here to learn what we could."

The logic was sound, but Hakuro had one more bid to make. "And this is the second time you've investigated serial killings, isn't it? The last was that scarred Ishvalan man that seemed so bent on taking out State Alchemists." He gave the younger man a pointed look. "I don't recall there being an arrest in that case."

Frustratingly, Mustang appeared unruffled. In fact, he smiled. "No arrest, no. But the man you're talking about attacked Führer-President Bradley during the Battle of Central, wounded him badly, but was subsequently killed."

"It's our belief," Hawkeye put in quietly, "that he was leading a band of Ishvalan refugees in actions against the Presidency that day. Major-General Armstrong took it upon herself to deal with the body."

Annoyed, Hakuro held back a resigned sigh. All the cards were on the table now, and his was the losing hand. "I see." He got to his feet, which prompted the others to do the same. "I won't hold you up any longer, since you have work to do. Make sure any reports you file come to me as well; someone as bloodthirsty and dangerous as this man shouldn't be on the streets."

"Our sentiments exactly," Mustang agreed. Both he and Hawkeye saluted dutifully, before moving toward the door. "Thank you for your time, General."

They were most of the way across the room before a sudden idea seized Hakuro. His hand drifted to the paperweight resting atop a stack of reports to his left. "Colonel — just one more thing…."

He waited just until that dark head had turned back in his direction, before plucking the paperweight from its resting place and lobbing it underhand toward the younger man. Mustang twitched visibly in surprise, before his left hand shot out to easily catch the glass dome sailing in his direction.

So, his vision was indeed returning, and with it went the faint, fleeting hope that he could have been run out of the military on a medical discharge. Hakuro forced a thin smile. "Just a test, Colonel, to assess just how on-the-mend you are. You passed admirably."

The answering smile was just as thin, without a trace of humour. "Your concern for my welfare is touching, General." He set the paperweight on top of the filing cabinet next to the door. "We'll be in touch."

The already small smile had faded before the door closed behind them.

STREETS OF EAST CITY

1100 HOURS, APRIL 16

He watched her as she drove, her eyes never leaving the road but to flicker briefly toward the sidewalk or the other lane. Riza's eyebrows were drawn tight, her anger apparent in the set of her jaw and the light in her eyes, in the way her right thumb tapped distractedly on the steering wheel. The car, signed out from the East City motor pool, was otherwise silent.

Finally, he faced forward again, commenting mildly. "You know, driving angry might not be the best idea, but at least when you do it, you look good."

She didn't so much laugh as give a short, slightly humoured outward breath. "That's a very roundabout way of telling me I'm pretty when I'm angry, sir."

"Serves the purpose, though." The car slowed, then stopped at a red light, and he reached over to settle a hand on her knee. "The meeting didn't go that badly, did it? I thought that, given Hakuro's opinion of me, it would've been a lot worse."

Riza didn't take her eyes from the light, or her hands from the wheel. "Yes, I think the fact that we're both still very obviously recovering threw him off-balance. He only questioned our fitness to investigate and be in the field, instead of our ability to do our jobs in general."

He shrugged, taking back his hand as the light changed and the car started forward again. "Exactly. And if he hadn't tried to test me at the end, I would have counted it as some sort of progress."

"That's most of what's getting under my skin," she answered, the words suddenly clipped by annoyance. "He just had to push it that little bit further, couldn't just take our word that we're really on the mend…. The questioning, I can handle. That's part of the job; you and I have both done it before. But the casual, off-the-cuff test…. It insinuates he thinks we were lying to achieve our own ends." She paused a moment. "Which, yes, we've both done before, but that doesn't have much bearing on this. Frankly, that so-called 'test' was nothing short of insulting."

"Well, then, best we prove him wrong. Which we've both done before." They began to slow for another red light, and he took the opportunity to slide closer on the bench seat, reaching for his pocket. "In the meantime, we'd best go to ground, get ourselves oriented, and figure out where to proceed from here. And I have just the place; I already left the number with Headquarters."

The car stopped, and she glanced sideways at him. His eyes were still hidden by the dark glasses, but she could sense the mischief lurking there. "You have a place in mind, when we haven't been in the city for months?'

He held up a pair of keys on a metal ring, grinning. "You know, I think I do…."

STREETS OF EAST CITY

11:00 A.M., APRIL 16

The man paced along, hands in the pockets of his dark suit, the brim of his hat tugged low and his head ducked to hide his face from any observant passersby. He was more recognizable here, but the danger of being seen did not overly disturb him. He could deal with anyone that realized who he was.

What disturbed him was that he had watched Mustang and Hawkeye emerge from the front entrance of Eastern Headquarters, not saying much, and head toward the motor pool. In Central, Mustang had kept one hand on his adjutant's shoulder or arm at all times, needing her to guide his blind steps. Now, he walked under his own power, hands at his sides, moving gently as he walked. The conclusion was obvious.

He could see again.

The man tried to tell himself that it didn't matter. Just because that arrogant fool could see again didn't mean anything for him; he had his own defenses in place, at least during the night. He took the risk of looking up, to where a perfectly blue spring sky stretched overhead, broken only by rare, wispy clouds. It was an effort, to hide his face in the daylight, as he had with Hawkeye at the cemetery. He had to be careful not to waste his energy like that, to conserve it for the proper time.

Perhaps he ought to find out where they were operating out of while here in the East, and try to get a glance at whatever notes they had. Simply to make sure they weren't getting too close to him yet, and to check on Hawkeye's progress. She would be ready soon, and then….

He licked his lips, ducking his head once more. The taste of her rose like a ghost in his mouth, a memory of the blood, of the faint smoky aftertaste that lingered on the tongue. He was surprised – pleasantly so – to find that dwelling on these thoughts of her caused the hunger to swell. Much as an ordinary human might hear their stomach rumble as the scents of a meal, the man heard a snarling in his mind, like a ravening wolf.

He hadn't thought he would need to eat again so soon; then again, the two hobos had not been as filling as he might have liked. Theoretically, he could wait until after nightfall, but to take a new victim in broad daylight like this…. The thrill it would give him would be immeasurable.

Walking leisurely, he made his way out of the bustling commercial area into a less-populated residential district. Here, there were the sounds of small children playing in backyards, the occasional bark of a dog, the far off purr of a car engine. Laundry flapped on lines behind houses, a telephone rang in the interior of one on a corner.

The man turned down streets at random, looking for all the world like an ordinary gentleman out for a midday stroll. When he came to a corner shaded by an old, drooping oak tree, he paused in the shade cast by the wide boughs, and listened.

The nearest house had left a window open to admit the fresh spring air, and radio music floated out into the sunshine. His ears picked out a woman's soft humming blending with the music, and the soft sssssswick… sssssswick… sssssswick of a broom moving across a hardwood floor. No other sounds emanated from inside; it would do.

Approaching the front door, he knocked, taking a moment to straighten his tie and smooth the fabric of his suit jacket. The woman who answered was plump and pretty, light brown hair falling in curls to her shoulders and held back with a brightly patterned kerchief. She wiped her hands on her pale green apron, smiling politely at the stranger on her front steps.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

The man returned her smile with some well-feigned surprise, reaching up to pluck his hat from his head. "…I'm terribly sorry… I must have the wrong address. I was supposed to meet a realtor about buying a house in the neighbourhood, and he told me to come to 187 Plum Street for a viewing."

Now looking puzzled, though still with a plastic version of her former smile pasted to her face, the woman hesitated before saying, "Well, this is 187 Plum Street, but the house isn't for sale. In fact, I don't know of any houses on our street that are…. Perhaps it was a different street that sounds similar?"

"That's what I'm beginning to wonder…." He looked around the deserted avenue, allegedly perplexed but actually checking for witnesses. Not a soul moved in the pristine front yards of the neighbourhoods, or twitched aside curtains in neighbourly nosiness. He looked back to the woman. "I'm rather embarrassed. I hate to impose, but… if you have a telephone, would I be able to use it to call the realty firm and get the correct address? I'm sure it wouldn't take more than a minute."

Again the woman hesitated, twisting the hem of her apron between her fingers in uncertainty. Her gaze travelled over him briefly, evaluating. He stood with his hat pressed to his chest, his free hand clearly visible at his side. Apparently seeing nothing suspicious, she stepped to the side and held the door open. "I don't see why not. Please, come in."

Her home was neat and orderly, with all the earmarks of being attended to by a stay-at-home wife with no children in the picture. Not only was there no evidence of toy boxes or child-size shoes, but the house held only adult scents. Children had a tendency to smell of things like storybook paper, crayon wax, and cookies and milk. Like the little Jamieson boy.

He followed the woman to the bright, warm kitchen, where she gestured toward the far wall. "Telephone's over there, sir. Take all the time you need, if it's a local call."

"It is, thank you." Moving toward the device, he pulled out his wallet, looking through it as though for a business card. "You have a lovely home, Ms.…?"

"Angelini. Joanna Angelini." She smiled, turning toward a soup pot that was on the stove, steam curling from the top of it. "And thank you; my husband and I are quite happy with it." Picking up a wooden spoon, she poked it into the pot, stirring the contents as she peered at them through the steam. "I don't believe you told me your name, sir."

"You're right. I didn't."

The way he struck against her caused her to drop the spoon into the soup with a clack. Joanna herself was thrown first against the stove, knocking half the breath from her before she was dragged backward and down. The man twisted as she fell, causing her to land face-first on her kitchen floor.

Surprised, the woman didn't have time for much more than a ragged gasp before his weight descended on her shoulders. The man's teeth sank into the soft flesh of the side of her throat, a low, pleased growl sounding as blood began to seep into his mouth. Her breath still returning, Joanna couldn't manage more than a hoarse whimper. Her legs kicked helplessly, one shoe clattering noisily against the stove.

He could hear her starting to regain her breath, and clamped one hand firmly over her mouth, pulling her head back so he could better access her neck. Joanna whimpered again, but fainter this time. The blood flowed more easily, some spattering to the immaculate tiled floor.

She continued to try and struggle, but the man's strength held her easily in place. Unconcernedly, almost casually, he kept a steady pace, alternately sucking and swallowing, feeling the life-giving blood ooze down his throat. It didn't so much slake a thirst as fill his stomach and ease the hungry rumblings there. Gradually, Joanna Angelini's struggles grew weaker and weaker… until at last she slumped in slow motion to the floor and was still.

A hoarse voice croaked from the kitchen doorway. "Joanna?"

Freeing his teeth from the woman's neck, the man lifted his head and turned. A man stood staring in horror, wrapped in a bathrobe thrown on over pajamas, his hair in pillowed disarray and his eyeglasses sitting crooked on his nose. The eyes behind them were glassy with fever and staring in uncomprehending shock at the man crouched over the lifeless body on the floor.

"What…." He halted, swallowing against the congested rasping in his throat. "What did you do to my wife?"

Getting slowly to his feet, much as though he were trying not to spook a skittish animal, the man ran his tongue over the blood coating his lips. Far from containing it, all the gesture did was spread it around. "I would think it's fairly obvious," he said, voice low. "She was good enough to invite me in, though I'm afraid I may have overstepped her hospitality in taking food without asking."

The husband's wide eyes went from the man's bloody mouth to his still-bleeding wife on the floor. Blood was still draining from the punctures to her neck, forming a pool on the floor. "But — how…."

He was still staring, dumbstruck, when the man lunged. This time, he didn't bother to go for the other's throat. Instead, he struck him on one shoulder, spinning the unprepared victim around to the left. A second later, he caught Joanna's husband by the head in both hands and gave a sharp twist.

There was a sharp crack and Mr. Angelini dropped bonelessly to the floor, mere feet away from his late wife.

The man staggered, stumbling to the little kitchen island to support himself, bent nearly double. The violence had awakened that other hunger, that sexual need, and the force of its suddenness left him breathless. He braced himself on the cool tile counter, taking long, deep breaths, willing the throbbing in his groin to subside. Still, it was a long while before he was able to stand straight and breathe normally.

Stepping over Joanna's body to the stove, he plucked the dish towel hanging from the handle of the over door and using it to dab fastidiously at his lips and chin, removing all traces of blood. He hadn't gone quite as wild in this attack as the others, but then again, he also wasn't quite done.

Standing there, watching the pot on the stove continue to bubble placidly, he leaned forward to peer inside it. Rich broth, vegetables, and chunks of meat bobbed along with the rolling boil, sending a savoury fragrance into the air. The man smirked. Of course: the dutiful wife making chicken soup for her sick husband. How disgustingly domestic.

And if the meat were diseased, he was hesitant to sink his teeth into it. The two hobos and their high blood alcohol levels had been bad enough, and the man respected this body too much to tarnish it unnecessarily with illness. He wasn't even sure what effect human germs would have on him, but he had no desire to find out.

Turning the heat off to the burner under the soup pot, he once again stepped over Joanna's body and then over that of her husband, making his way to the front door. He checked himself over to make sure there was no blood visible on him before stepping outside.

His hand was on the doorknob when a thought clicked into place. He hesitated a moment, an idea forming, then returned to the kitchen. He stepped over Mr. Angelini in crossing to the far wall and picked up the telephone receiver, dialling a single '0' before he brought it to his ear.

"Hello?" he said, pouring panic into his voice when the operator had connected. "I need the police, quickly! There's blood, so much blood, and the Angelinis…. They're… they're…."

"Sir, calm down. I'm connecting you to the military police," the woman on the other end responded, her voice tense. "What address are you calling from?"

"It's 187 Plum Street. Tell them to hurry!" And with that, he hung up and headed out the door.

"Thank you for your help, Mrs. Angelini. I'll let you know if I move to the neighbourhood," he called cheerfully back to the interior of the house and its dead occupants, purely for any unseen spectators. Shutting the door firmly behind him, he started off down the walk and up the street, his hat tugged low to keep his eyes hidden, and his head slightly ducked against any pedestrian he might pass. He had only walked two blocks before he began to hear sirens.

27 WHEELER STREET, EAST CITY

1217 HOURS, APRIL 16

The apartment was littered with taped-up boxes, open boxes, boxes waiting to be folded back into being boxes, and empty boxes waiting to be filled. Setting her military duffel on the floor and the paper bag of groceries on the counter in the kitchen, Riza's eyes roamed around the space. Hayate trotted inside past their feet and began exploring instantly, his nose to the floorboards.

"He does intend to come back for all of this, doesn't he?" she asked, only half sarcastically. "I would have thought Grumman would prefer to take all his belongings to Central in one go and be done with it."

Roy's duffel hit the floor, knocking into a box of heavy-looking leather bound books. "He told me he would have liked to do it that way, but that there was a time crunch between being confirmed as the incoming Führer-President and getting to Central. He took the most important things and boxed up what he could before he left." He grinned at her, his eyes still hidden behind protective sunglasses. "He said that if the head of the country couldn't find a flunky or two to come back here and get the rest of his stuff, what was that country coming to?"

Riza smiled back, beginning to sort through the grocery bag for anything that needed to be refrigerated. "As long as I don't end up being one of said flunkies, I can't fault him for the logic."

She was facing away from Roy when his arms circled her waist in a gentle embrace, his lips pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. Shuddering lightly, she pulled away, but not by much. "Not now," she warned, smiling. "We've got things to do."

"You mean aside from each other?" The fingers of his right hand tugged at the hem of her uniform jacket, trailing the silver edging. "Can't say anything pressing is coming to mind, other than —"

He broke off as she turned in his arms, giving him an admonishing look. It was in strange juxtaposition to the spots of colour high in her cheeks that spoke to her own want. Want she was clearly holding back, with all the force and discipline only Riza Hawkeye was capable of.

"I know that it'll be the first time you've seen me that way in months," she murmured, tone firm, "but we've got new case files to go over for the two murders that happened here, we need to eat, we need to get in touch with our old contacts out here to see if they know anything —"

She stopped when it was apparent that he wasn't listening. Reaching up, she took the sunglasses from his face, revealing the reddened eyes. He looked as though he were going through a particularly nasty bout of seasonal allergies: the eyelids were red and slightly puffy, the whites looking as bloodshot as if he hadn't slept for a week. But the irises were once again a striking near-black, glimmering with humour as he gave her a mischievous wink.

"Doesn't stop you from being a sight for sore eyes."

Riza reached to the side, setting the glasses on the countertop. "I think I'd appreciate the compliment more if it weren't hidden inside a terrible joke."

Sobering, Roy took a half-step back, looking her over carefully. "I'd feel more confident in the compliment if you weren't still pale as a ghost," he admitted. "I couldn't see it through the lens tinting, but you definitely have the look of someone who's lost a lot of blood."

Unconcerned, she turned back toward the grocery bag. "That's hardly a coincidence, seeing as how I did lose a lot of blood."

His hand settled onto her arm. "Yes, you did, but you've had two separate transfusions. You should have regained some of that colour by now." Gently, he turned her toward himself. "Riza, if there was ever a time for you to be honest with me, it's now. You're whiter than white, but are you having any of the other symptoms? Dizziness, fatigue, feeling faint? Any of that?"

She shook her head. "None."

His hands took one of hers, pressing the fingers between his palms with an analytical frown. Across the room, the telephone began to ring, but he ignored it. "You're sure? Because your hands are cold, too."

"My hands are always cold." Pulling free, she headed toward the phone. "Roy, I know you want to help, I know you're concerned. But if you're going to worry this much, it's only going to slow us down. Please; if I tell you I'm fine, you can rest assured I am." Without waiting for an answer, she picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

Forced to wait, he took the refrigerated items from the bag, putting them away as he watched her facial expression change from polite inquiry to professional concentration. "Again already?" A pause. "All right, I understand. We'll be there as soon as we can."

Hanging up, she gave him a grim look. "If you still have concerns, they'll have to wait, sir. Our killer just surfaced again, in one of the residential neighbourhoods. We're needed at the scene."

"All right. I should have expected we'd hit the ground running." Closing the gap between them, he caught her hand before she could move away. "But when we get back, maybe you should let me look you over more closely." He grinned. "Just to reassure myself that you're really as okay as you say you are."

Riza returned the smile. "Only if you let me do the same."

#fma #fmab #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #royza #royai #fma fanfiction #royai fanfiction #tainted blood

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rhuematism · 6 years

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Listen, on the topic of men’s relationships

I agree wholeheartedly that when there are two men who are close that they don’t need to be paired together as gay. It’s bad all around when, specifically, straight women, do this. It makes it harder for straight men to express their feelings and be open with their male friends in a non toxic way. But, I do have to call out male authors. Learn to write male friendships and male female romances for Christ’s sake.

I’m gonna go into more depth here with what I’m talking about. My two examples to my points will be Naruto and Full Metal Alchemist.

The majority of Naruto, the boy spends chasing relentlessly after Sasuke. Their almost romantic interactions for the duration of the series was commented on by fujoshi female fans and regular ol straight male fans alike. The only “proof” Naruto isn’t into Sasuke is his love or whatever for Sakura which only shows up when it needs to reaffirm he isn’t actually gay. At least that’s how it feels. Naruto through most of the series is actually written in a similar aspect to the way Hinata and Sakura are written in response to their own obsessive behavior to their love interests and it’s still only considered friends. By the end of the series Naruto is married to Hinata who he showed barely an iota of interest in and Sasuke is with Sakura who he, for most of the series, treated like an inconvenience at best. This is very bad representation of the potential of these characters. Maybe I spent the series reading it wrong or something, but aside from Naruto and Sasukes interactions, everyone else felt tacked on. Them ending up with who they ended up with felt like an “Oh, and yeah, they are married cuz we have to make sure you know they are straight.”

Wanna know who did this good?

Full Metal Alchemist

All of the male female relationships were built upon from the start. When we were introduced to a character relationship that wound up at the end, not once did I ask “When could that have happened?” Because they built on their interactions in subtle ways. Also, the male male friendships? Mustang and Hughes aren’t generally shipped together. I mean, some people do, but it’s fairly rare. Why? Because it’s clear that even though these two men love each other to the core, they also love their partners. For Hughes that was his wife Alicia and for Mustang it was Hawkeye. All of these relationships were pre established and through out the entire series reaffirmed as being the relationship. There was no moment to question when this happened.

But Toxic! Naruto and Hinata aren’t established until later in the show! You say!

True, that might not be a fair comparison.

But we also have Edward and Winry and Alphonse and Mei Chang who didn’t actually get into a relationship until after the end of the series.

For edward and winry, it showed his crush on her develop from a child on up. How his fondness for her as a kid grew into something more as the story progressed. It became apparent that out of everyone, Edward could trust Alphonse, his little brother, and he could trust Winry. Tragedy brought them together and they comforted one another, they built one another up and worked as a team from the get go and when, at the end, they were happy and married with kids you didn’t feel cheated.

Alphonse and Mei Chang were a little different. They didn’t grow up together. They found one another in the middle of a war and were around the same age. Both teenagers who desperately wanted to just be teenagers but had both been put into a position where that wasn’t possible. They met, they joked they flirted and then they became fast friends. They separated for a bit to save the world, but by that point, it was clear that there was something there. And every interaction from then in between them was about the survival of each other and of each other’s loved ones. It felt exactly like what a teen romance would be, and when I finished the story, it felt exactly like what a teen romance would feel if it were blossoming into something maybe a bit more. Nothing felt wasted.

In FMA everything was paced well enough that all the characters had enough time to into interact and build on what they meant to whom. In Naruto they focused too much on somethings and not enough time on others. That’s why, at least from what I’ve seen, less people shipping so feverently in FMA than in Naruto. I think the same issue happened in Voltron too that happened in Naruto.

Authors need to stop. Pace things. You want us to see those characters as just friends? Then please, learn what a male friendship looks like. What us to love your straight couple? Then please make them a couple worth loving. I want more LGBT rep of course, but like if y’all give me a story with characters like in FMA that are straight then guess what, I’m not going to feel robbed.

#fma #naruto #vent post #toxics stuff #writing #men dont know how to write friendships #women do tho

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fizzingwizard · 6 years

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TBH I never understood why... Ed/Ling was not a major FMA ship XD

No seriously... was it just because Ling wasn’t around yet in the first FMA anime? I guess everyone got so hot for Ed/Mustang because of *cough* in spite of the age difference that there was just too much competition when Ling was created and Brotherhood produced.

Or is it that Ling isn’t a typical bishie character? Not sure which is worse lol?

(I do think there was some fandom resistance to Ling and Mei and the existence of Xing itself in the very beginning, because it meant FMA was swerving in a direction the fans weren’t prepared for because we’d gotten way too comfortable with what the anime chose to do. A consequence of allowing an anime to go forward with a story when the original is nowhere near complete, I guess. I know Arakawa gave the okay on that, but they *did* end up making a second anime in the end to have the whole thing... lol)

Anyway truth! Ling is fantastic! He’s a great character, as are the other Xing characters, and Greeling was also fantastic, and the relationship that built (admittedly slowly) between Ed and Ling/Greeling was one of my personal favorite parts of the latter half of FMA. For one thing, Ed and Al both needed relationships outside of each other. I won’t say desperately needed, but they only interacted with each other in the main, and they were kids. It’s not healthy. It’s not allowing room for growth. They needed to build outside relationships with others independently, and that’s what happened thanks to Ling and Mei.

And then there’s just the usual fan girl garbage to consider - Ed/Ling’s got a wealth of it, ya know. They’ve got demonic (sort of) possession, they’ve got guilt, they’ve got angst, they’ve saved each other’s lives, they’ve got the rain cloud/ray of sunshine dynamic, they’ve got power imbalance, like... all the tropes fan girls usually eat up and spit out as an X-rated in cognito tab, Ed/Ling’s got.

And yet they weren’t much of a power couple, at least not that I ever saw. It bugs me that their competition was mainly Ed/Mustang and Ed/Al. Seriously? An angsty ship that involves an adult and a minor, and an angsty ship that involves two blood-related brothers, are more popular than an angsty ship in which the characters are of similar ages and not related? xD Guys come on.

Of course my main ship is Ed/Winry sooooo you may be like Fizz Why? This Post Is 10 Years Late Too? Idk, I just suddenly thought about it. Anywhoo Ling Yao is Love

#full metal alchemist #its a rant

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puella-peanut · 6 years

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So what do you like about the Royed pairing? Is it tsundere? ;) is Roy the hardass one? Is Ed a little bottom cupcake? I still haven’t gotten FMA from the library. ~OaOA

1) Roy Mustang and Edward Elric are among my (neverending list) of favorite characters in the world of anime/manga, but more importantly, they are my absolute favorite characters in the series. (Okay okay—Roy is the favorite but Ed is a really close number two). Of course, as they’re my favorites, I love to see them interact with each other. Which leads me to part two, which is what you’re actually here for.

2) I love the dynamics of Roy and Ed.Regardless of whether they’re paired up together in fandom, or have their cannon 100% platonic relationship (unless you’re watching the 2003 anime and its follow-up concluding movie which has uh…certain vibes), they share an interesting rapport with each other. In some ways, there is this classic, “opposites attract” magnetism between them. To name a few (since their differences are far more obvious than their similarities): Ed’s rash, impulsive and roguish, Roy is (usually) cool, and collected—a classic officer and a gentleman. Ed is also bad-tempered, hot-tempered; he has no manners, no classy mannerisms. Roy is sophisticated, mature, and comes off as cultured despite his silly moments. Polar opposites in these ways, their interactions tend to steal the spotlight due to the antipodes of their personalities. Or, at the very least, manifest in infamous, meme-status bickering.

However, despite these differences, they share many similarities under their opposing exteriors which makes the idea of them together even better. They’re both these incredibly dedicated, determined, and hard-working people who are loyal to their ideals, pursuits—and true-companions (sometimes to a fault). Both are highly intelligent, badass bookworms who were at least partly raised by women who were not their mothers—Ed (and by extension his brother Al), by Pinako (with Winry helping in her own way), and Roy by his paternal, brothel-owning aunt, Madame Christmas. They both deeply atone for their past mistakes (Ed’s failed transmutation of his mother, Roy’s war crimes in Ishval), and struggle to forgive themselves. Despite this darkness in their pasts however, they’re still both optimistic, hopeful and idealistic, Roy especially so in the manga/Brotherhood anime. (2003’s adaptation…he’s far more depressed, cynical, and brooding—as is Ed.)There is also this certain… forbidden fruit type of appeal to how prohibited a romantic relationship between them would be. For instance, Ed serves under Roy in the military where romantic attachments are forbidden—which of course also lends a certain spice to the already sexy “master and subordinate” position. There’s the taboo of a big age difference.There is the even bigger taboo of them both being male.

Not to mention, there’s evil in their world, and forces to be reckoned with, and hardly time to spare to put a minute aside for romance. The cost is high when personal relationships come to painful ends.

And really—it’s just not done. Ed and Roy are like oil and water (or in this case, fire and steel)—a relationship which, (in any version of the series), grows into a deep friendship, companionship, and a strong support and trust of each other (even if they outwardly don’t show/acknowledge it). In the manga especially, (and the 2009/2010 brotherhood anime which directly adapts it), their dynamic is much more balanced and equal, but due to differing status and age, the forbidden appeal remains.

And remains with a vengeance!

Even today, more than a decade after publication and the first anime/movie, they’re still the most popular pairing—especially in the Japanese fandom, which has been shipping them since before any anime-adaptation was ever announced! When they have such a groundwork for a close relationship, it’s pretty easy to tilt that in favor of viewing a more romantic, and far less platonic chemistry between them. And it can be pretty hot too, though your mileage may vary. Though this is 100% a fan-pairing (again: your mileage on 2003’s adaptation, especially the infamous movie, may vary), the idea of it, and their relationship in general, is pretty strong fuel to get the hype chugging along.3) On an entirely shallow and purely physical vein of thought and honesty…well, they look good together.

I always did have a thing for “opposite” looks, and they’re the embodiment of that, in their strikingly differing physical features—one is blond, the other black-haired. One is of average height, the other…uh, fun-sized. One is older, the other younger. Even the colors of what they wear are completely opposite. Or the styles: Ed looks like the standard outrageous teenage anime protagonist or wannabe rock-star—Roy is all silk, suits, and military sophistication.And since we’re on the topic of the physical…Is Ed a little bottom cupcake?See, fanon tends to distort the angle of characterization from canon—after all, many a time, fanon and canon are two entirely different things that just happen to use the same characters to populate the universe of their stories. Anyway, to answer your question, I think because Ed’s so much younger, so much shorter (along with being far less composed with his emotions), fandom loves to portray him/draw him as this cutesy little teenage boy who is much more emotional, and craving of physical emotion than “top” Roy.

But if you actually remember Ed’s canon personality…he’s not like that at all.

He’s a muscled, strong, tough badass (with terrible taste), who would absolutely loathe being so girlied-up, just so he can be the “woman” in the relationship, and fit a more heterosexual-couple stereotype. In saying that, look…I don’t mind at all when one character is a “bottom” in a relationship, but I don’t like when their personalities are tweaked (especially when male), to make one the “female”, or the “chick-with-a-dick” counterpart to their “top/seme” hyper-masculine loverboy. Sure, some characters are naturally written this way, but in this case, making canon!traditionally masculine Edward Elric into a replacement, super-girly-stereotypical-girl is just…weird.In fanart, I usually don’t mind (and gosh, is the art cute!), but when actually reading about the characters…yeah. That’s not my cuppa.But this memorable scene certainly is.

#royed #roy mustang #edward elric #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #in which peanut posts her nonsense #in which peanut chases paper cuts

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mmmmalo · 6 years

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FMA: Symbols of Desire

Rereading Fullmetal Alchemist recently, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the story functions on a dream logic similar to Homestuck (or Berserk or Armageddon) -- the world and its events are shaped largely by the fears and desires of the protagonists, up to and including the actions of the Homunculi, who seem to serve as agents of the aforementioned fears/desires in much the same way that Homestuck’s imps and trolls manifest in response to emotional triggers. For example: Mustang talks about his wish to usurp King Bradley, and suddenly Gluttony is on the roof. Another point: one of Mustang’s subordinates seeks to acquire Dr Marco for questioning on the philosopher’s stone, but Envy steps in to claim the doctor while wearing the subordinate’s face -- wish granted, but the wish is revealed to work against you.

The symbols of desire are manifold: the eye (fixated upon the object of its wish), the mouth (it hungers), and the ouroboros (the eternal glutton and brand of the homunculi, desire incarnate). This is part of why Gluttony’s stomach has a huge eye in the middle of it,why the original homunculus looks like an eyeball in its flask, why the mouth and eyes dotting Pride’s shadowy form have an identical crescent moon shape -- all are interwoven with the central motif of the wish. Based on Pride, we might conclude that the moon itself becomes a fourth symbol of desire, especially since the eclipse turns into a giant eye in the sky as some sort of gesture toward the grand, terrible scope of Father’s wish. (Berserk did the same thing by having an eclipse coincide with Griffith’s big wish!)

Yet a fifth symbol here is the Gate of Truth itself, yet another mouth filled with grabbing hands and a great eye -- for Edward to trade his gate for Alphonse’s body becomes a very Buddhist gesture, as though this story about battling the twisted desires driving the world to ruin culminates in the renunciation of desire itself.

Or at least that’s my present take -- there’s a great deal of symbolism in the story that still escapes me. For example, state alchemists seem to function as symbolic extensions of the Elric brothers, but in a way that differs somewhat from the homunculi. For example, when Ed loses his (mechanical) right arm, he is escorted to his repairs by the “Strong Arm Alchemist” Major Armstrong, who emphatically flexes his right arm throughout the chapter to assert that his entire character embodies the lost arm. Or again, consider how the false religion Ed topples in chapter 1 is specifically devoted to a /sun/ god, linking the burning star to patriarchal authority -- would Ed’s aggression towards the “Flame Alchemist” Mustang then be linked to a general pattern of aggression towards God/Sun/Father figures?

Which leads us to some weird loose speculation.

The Sun and Moon represent the Masculine and the Feminine, respectively -- this is implicit in some of the points above, but made explicit in chapter 105 in a flashback about Ed and Al pondering the creation of a “perfect being”. This in turn feminizes the various symbols of desire listed above -- or rather brings out some the yonic subtext. Gluttony’s rib-toothed bloody maw has hints of vagina dentata -- and the inside (an endless field of blood) has more in common with a womb that a stomach. The question becomes then, what is the purpose of all sexual imagery? To what end does the fantasy take place?

The specifics in this case still elude me, but the basic idea is that the Elric brothers’ united wish to bring back their dead mother disguised two distinct wishes: Al wishes to /be/ a mother I think, while Ed gets the more standard Oedipus complex.

Al hides a person in his iron belly, and when King Bradley kills them, Alphonse’s memories of trauma come flooding back to him. It’s not just the blood getting splashed on the sigil -- the event itself is a metaphor for miscarriage, as though the Wrath of Father God himself has interceded and said no, you are not allowed to have a child, know your place. The event nearly repeats itself later when Al hides May in his armor and Bradley gives him a good stab just in case -- but fortunately May was able to come to term that time?

There’s also a one-off gag where Al hides an Xingese alchemical circle of creation in his loincloth -- creation being the feminine complement to masculine destruction. (A paradigm established by Scar’s destruction/creation arms, which match up with Kimbley’s sun/moon arms in right/left alignment) So for Alphonse at least, the failed transmutation of his mother was experienced as a failed childbirth...?

Edward I’m less sure about, if only because the symbolism of arms confuses me. If Arakawa is actually using Freudian motifs, then the loss of leg/arm could function as symbolic castrations that are the archetypal punishment for boning the mother... buuuut unlike Alphonse, I was never able to find anything to support Ed’s case besides “aggression toward the Father”. Still, given Arakawa’s interest in combining western and eastern esoteric tradition (expressed via the overlay of transmutation circles), I think it would be interesting if she was proposing Buddhist enlightenment as a route to transcend the Oedipus complex.

(And as a final note, this would explain the disparities between Ed and Al’s punishments -- Ed wanted to be “in” the lost mother and thus lost a piece of himself, while Al wanted to “be” the lost mother and thus lost everything?)

#fullmetal alchemist #homestuck #child death cw #the manga cap will make sense to people who have read the recent jake and dirk post

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sage-nebula · 6 years

Note

Congratulations on your thesis! If it isn’t too late to ask, for the fandom question I’d like to request FMA and Mystic Messenger ^^

Thanks!! Sorry I didn’t respond when you sent this last night, but I was just way too tired, haha. I’m putting these under a cut because they got long.

FMA:B:

Favorite character:

Colonel Hot Stuff, a.k.a. Roy Mustang. ♥

Least Favorite character:

For a non-cliché answer? Gluttony. Sorry, but cannibalism is a huge squick. He grosses me out. (Cliché answers are Shou Tucker and Zolf J. Kimblee.)

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

Haha, unlike many shounen mangaka, Arakawa actually knows how to write romance well, so . . .

Roy/Riza, and that gets to be bolded because it is supreme, easily the best ship in the manga.

Ling/Lan Fan

Ed/Winry

Al/May

Izumi/Sig

Character I find most attractive:

Colonel Hot Stuff, obviously. But Riza is also super pretty.

Character I would marry:

N/A? I never really thought about it.

Character I would be best friends with:

Ed and I would get along pretty well, tbh.

A random thought:

I’m not sure a more perfect shounen series exists, tbh.

An unpopular opinion:

Though I do still hate Shou Tucker a lot, by this point I’m so desensitized to what happened to Nina that, while I still think that it’s horrifying on a logical level, it doesn’t phase me anymore and neither do the memes about it / people bringing it up randomly. I also think that using it as a meme / shock thing is really old and boring.

My canon OTP:

Roy/Riza, and listen . . . it’s canon that they love each other. Arakawa has said that the only reason why they’re not together is because they can’t be according to military law. They’re in love, it counts.

Non-canon OTP:

Ed/Ling, or Winry/Rose. I love both of these ships a lot even if I didn’t list them above.

Most badass character:

IZUMI CURTIS. Look fam, she whoops all kinds of ass despite the fact that she’s missing several important organs and often coughs up blood, like . . . she survived the Briggs winter by herself when she was young. She took down bears. You don’t fuck with Mama Izumi, you just don’t. Not if you want to live, anyway.

Pairing I am not a fan of:

Roy/Ed. Sorry, but I just see Roy as one of Ed’s (and Al’s!) many surrogate parents.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another):

None? None. Arakawa is a godsend.

Favourite friendship:

TEAM MUSTANG. I love Team Mustang so muuuuch (as well as the honorary members of Hughes and Armstrong, and the children, Ed and Al). I also really love Maria and Denny’s relationship, too. They’re “brotp or otp” material, honestly.

Mystic Messenger:

Favorite character:

SAEYOUNG, LOVE OF MY LIFE. ♥

Least Favorite character:

Out of the main cast? Yoosung. Easily. I was neutral on him until Another Story, but once that came along . . . ohhhhhh boy.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

A list:

Saeyoung/MC 4 (as I write her)

Jaehee/Zen

Jumin/V

And, uh . . . pretty sure that’s it, haha.

Character I find most attractive:

Saeyoung ♥ But I will also admit that Zen and Vanderwood are quite pretty, and Jaehee is pretty when her hair is short and she’s wearing her glasses.

Character I would marry:

Saeyoung, obviously. Jaehee would be my second choice, though.

Character I would be best friends with:

Again . . . the reason why I pursued Saeyoung right off the bat was because he made me laugh and it was so much fun to play around with him. We have very similar senses of humor and a lot of the same hobbies.

A random thought:

It’s not random, but I do headcanon that Saeyoung has likely killed people while on agency jobs in the past. Not maliciously, and only ever because he had to. It was him or them, it was self-defense. But he’s done it, nonetheless. The first time was when he was only about thirteen, or fourteen, and Vanderwood (because he didn’t know what else to do, or say) gave him a cigarette after to try to calm him down. Maybe Saeyoung even asked for it, I don’t know. And Saeyoung took it, and of course nearly coughed up a lung as a result to not being used to the smoke, and after a few minutes Vanderwood says, “You know, it gets easier.”

“What?” Saeyoung said, his voice still raw (from crying? from the smoke?). “The killing, or the smoke?”

Vanderwood was quiet for a moment, then he shrugged. “Both.”

(Saeyoung doesn’t smoke anymore after that, but there are times after when he’s still forced to kill.)

An unpopular opinion:

Zen/Jaehee is practically canon, and Cheritz needs to give us a route where we can play matchmaker for them.

My canon OTP:

There are no canon ships lol. Well, there’s one, but it’s terrible, so.

Non-canon OTP:

Zen/Jaehee, Jumin/V.

Most badass character:

SAEYOUNG, is this even a question? This man gets shot, and then manages to stay conscious for so long after that, and that’s on top of everything else he manages to accomplish, like . . . goddamn. When V says that Saeyoung has the skills to make things happen, he’s not exaggerating.

Pairing I am not a fan of:

Saeyoung/Yoosung. Both of them have to be OoC to make it work, and Yoosung is really, really not good for Saeyoung regardless.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another):

Saeyoung was treated so horribly in Another Story, it’s honestly offensive.

Favourite friendship:

SAEYOUNG & VANDERWOOD. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

#fandom meme #the-rfa-squad

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just-absolutely-super · 7 years

Text

Of Dreams and Other Lives

AN: So this is what happens when you cry about FMA 03 Edwin while having some weird fascination with a character having insight into their AU self’s life. (If that makes any sense...)

Anyways, this fic is Winry-centric with a good dose of Edwin fluff, and while it takes place in the canonverse (the manga and FMA:B), I do dwell a little bit into 03′s continuity. So, spoilers I guess for FMA 03 and COS.

Anyways, hope you all enjoy it!

--------------

Summary: They say your dreams are visions of a another life you are living. Winry experiences a heartbreaking one.

Timeline: Post Series

Ship: Edwin with some Resembool Trio Brot3 goodness

FF.NET LINK

--------------

“I guess this is goodbye for good...”

Winry groans as she rouses from her sleep, feeling more tired than she did when she fell asleep that night.

She had a very strange dream. She doesn’t really remember it though. She remembers Edward and Alphonse were in the dream, but as for what they were doing she couldn’t say. Whatever it was, the dream left her feeling extremely tired.

And extremely sad, too…

Winry frowns at that. Why would she be sad? She recalls some dreams she’s had in the past where the boys never came home, but the feeling she had upon waking from those was more nervous rather than sad.

She shrugs. It’s just a dream. She doesn’t remember it anyway, so why bother dwelling on it?

Yawning, Winry rolls out of bed and trudges her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. There, she is met with the sight of her two best friends, the Elric Brothers. Alphonse (who finally managed to get his body back to a healthy state since the Promise Day) has his back to her while he fixes breakfast. His older brother Edward sits at the table, drinking coffee and reading the morning paper. She can’t help but smile at the domestic sight.

Al doesn’t bother sparing her a glance as he cheerfully says to her, “Good morning, Winry! Granny had to make a house call to Mr. Kline. His wife rushed in here saying his legs gave out while he was working in the field. She’ll be back soon, though.”

Winry nods, knowing full well whom her grandmother’s client is. Apparently the old farmer Mr. Kline is just as bad at keeping up with his automail maintenance as Ed is.

Speaking of Ed, the former alchemist glances up from his paper to smile at his mechanic, causing butterflies to flutter in Winry’s stomach. Edward really has grown into a handsome man over the past few years.

“Morning Win—GAAAH!”

Winry jumps at Ed’s outburst. One moment he’s smiling at her and then the next he’s practically jumping out of his chair, staring at her with a panicked look.

“Wh-What’s the matter with you?” Winry asks him.

“Yeah, Brother, why are you—Winry?! What’s the matter?!” Al asks her, moving from his spot at the stove to join his older brother in gawking at her. He too has a look on his face that told Winry he was shocked and worried.

Winry stares dumbfounded at the two boys, “What are you talking about? I’m fine.”

“Bullshit!” Ed spats, pointing an accusing finger at her, “You’ve been crying! What’s wrong?”

Winry blinks in confusion. Crying? She hadn’t been crying. What are they—?

Raising a hand up to her face, Winry touches her cheeks. She feels some moisture. Moving to a mirror that hangs on one of the walls, Winry examines her face. Sure enough there are tear tracks that were just now drying. Her eyes are bloodshot as well, making the blue of her irises stand out.

She had been crying. But for the life of her she doesn’t know why.

She turns back to her two best friends and shrugs, “I guess I was crying. I don’t know why though.”

Edward raises an eyebrow at her and shares a confused look with his brother at the girl’s confession. They turn back to her and examine her face, probably to make sure she isn’t lying to them or anything.

“You’re absolutely sure nothing’s wrong?” Ed asks skeptically.

“Yeah, Winry, if anything is bothering you, you know you can talk to us. We’re always here for you,” Al comforts, giving the girl a small smile.

Winry beams at the boys, “Thank you for your concern, but I really am okay. I had a weird dream last night, and even though I don’t remember it, I do remember being sad in it. I probably subconsciously cried in my sleep.”

She laughs it off, though the fact that she did cry in her sleep left her feeling uneasy. She wishes she knew what that dream was about now. It must’ve been bad if it left her feeling emotionally compromised to the point of tears.

She feels a pair of comforting arms around her. She looks up to see Alphonse. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Whatever it was, it was just a dream. They aren’t real.”

Winry smiles at the younger boy and nods, “Yeah, of course. Thanks, Al.”

“You’re welcome!” Al removes himself from her side before shoving Edward towards her, “You’re glad she’s okay too, right Brother?”

Ed glares at the sly look Al is giving him, a bright blush on his cheeks. Coughing awkwardly, Ed faces Winry, his gaze avoiding hers, “Y-Yeah. It’s good you aren’t really sad or anything like that.”

Winry gives the older Elric a small but genuine smile. He is still very awkward when it comes to his feelings for her, but Winry knows he’s trying and really does care about her.

To her surprise, Edward quickly gathers her in his arms. The hug is so tight that her breath gets momentarily knocked out of her. Her cheeks flush as she feels his hot breath in her ear.

“But if you ever get sad again, don’t play that cool act. You come talk to me, okay? Al too. Or Granny. Hell, even Den would be a good option.” He sincerely says. His hold on her loosens enough for the girl to breathe, but thankfully he doesn’t let go. Winry melts into the embrace, wrapping her arms around him to return the hug.

“I will. Don’t worry. Thank you.”

--------------

Winry’s eyes snap open as she gasps out.

She quickly gets out of her bed and turns on the bedside lamp. She’s trembling, tears profusely falling from her eyes as she gasps out heartbroken sobs.

It was that dream again.

She hasn’t had it for months and barely remembers it, but she just knew that’s what it was.

She wasn’t sure what was going on in the dream. It looked like Amestris, but at the same time it didn’t—like she was in a whole different world altogether.

She had been standing in a city, but it wasn’t a city she was familiar with. She remembered Al in the dream, but he didn’t really look like Al. He was younger, and his hair was a darker shade of blonde than what it should be—almost brown. It was longer too, similar to Ed’s. She recalled Roy Mustang being in the dream too, but the details of his role were fuzzy at best.

But she does remember Edward in the dream, almost to a horrifying degree with how clear it was.

He had crashed to the ground in some kind of machine Winry wasn’t familiar with. He was fine, if not a little beat up. She recalled hugging him in the dream, but it wasn’t a hug she would have normally given him.

She had held him tightly, almost as if she hadn’t seen him in a very long time. Like if she let go at that very moment, he’d disappear.

He seemed to be different too. He looked like Edward, sure, but his eyes were different. Still gold in color, but they looked colder and more distant—like he was constantly putting up walls to protect himself. He also still had an automail arm instead of the flesh one he gained back after the Promise Day.

That was another thing that was off: his automail. It was badly broken in the dream. She couldn’t find any humor that dream Ed is also reckless with his limbs because the automail he had didn’t even look like automail; at least, none she is used to handling. Winry had set to work to fix him up. She gave him new and better limbs.

This was where the dream gets fuzzier, but Winry knew what was happening all the same.

Ed had left to fight someone—who, Winry wasn’t sure—and the fight was taking place on an aircraft. Flying machines are something in the early stages of development according to Mr. Garfiel; so she’s surprised to find her subconscious showing her this contraption that shouldn’t even exist yet!

Something had happened because she saw the wing of the aircraft get torn apart. She wasn’t sure how, but she thinks it was with alchemy. Had Ed done that?

Wait, no, Ed doesn’t have his alchemy anymore. He gave it up for Al’s body. How did he…?

“That must be Ed, I know it.”

Winry’s eyes widen as she recalls her own voice echoing inside her head. The image of the aircraft was flying away into some unknown place far out of her reach.

She then remembers Mustang coming up to her in the dream and telling her that not only did Ed leave this world behind, but Alphonse did too, wanting to follow his brother.

They would never be able to come back…

“So, I guess this is goodbye for good.”

Winry gasps, sobs wracking her body. No. No, they can’t be gone forever. Edward can’t be gone forever. It was a dream. It was just a dream!

But it was so real…

It felt so real!

She runs out of her room and opens the door to one of the bedrooms that the Elric Brothers always reside in.

Empty.

‘No… No, it can’t be!’

Winry slides to the floor, her tears falling out of her eyes as she sobs. She’s shaking all over and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. In the back of her mind, Winry knows she is suffering from a panic attack but she can’t care at the moment.

They are gone.

Edward and Alphonse are gone. They left her and they are never coming back!

“Winry!”

Winry is startled from her thoughts when she sees her grandmother. She has a candle in her hand to help her see in the dark, her face is contorted in worry.

“Winry, honey, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?” she asks as she sets the candle down and holds her granddaughter in her arms. The blonde feels a cold, wet nose nudging her side and the soothing lick of a wet tongue, indicating that Den has bounded over as well.

It takes a while for Winry to calm herself down enough to answer in between her sobs and hiccups, “E…Ed-Edward…! And Al! They….They’re gon-gone!”

Pinako strokes her hair and stares at her granddaughter in confusion, “Of course they’re gone, you silly thing. Don’t you remember? Al went out East to study that healing alchemy stuff. We got a letter from him yesterday. And Edward went to the West to do some studying of his own. They’ve been gone for a little over three months now.”

At her words, Winry finally comes back to reality. That’s right, Ed and Al did leave; but they didn’t leave to some unknown world Winry couldn’t get to. No, they just went to different countries to expand their alchemic knowledge.

They are just days away by train ride!

And they can return at any time!

This knowledge finally calms her down, though she is still shaken.

“I just… It just felt so real, Granny.”

Her grandmother raises an eyebrow at her, silently asking her to elaborate.

“I had a dream. They were there, but then I saw them leave. First it was Ed, and then I found out Al left too. The feelings I felt were so real I just woke up and wanted to see if they were really gone. If they were here then I’d know for sure the dream didn’t happen.”

Pinako nods at the girl and rubs soothing circles on her back.

“How about I make you some tea to calm your nerves. Then you can go back to sleep. Does that sound good?”

Winry nods, “Okay…”

Pinako goes downstairs to start the kettle in the kitchen, but Winry stays behind, still staring into the empty bedroom.

It is okay… The boys are okay…

But why is she still uneasy?

Taking a shaky breath, Winry forces herself to stand and makes her way down the stairs; Den rushing ahead of her once she sees her master is okay. She pauses when she spots the telephone out of the corner of her eye, a notepad next to it. A string of numbers is written and Winry recognizes them.

A few days ago, Ed called her from a house in Creta. He had befriended a professor who was kind enough to allow the young man to stay with him and his family. The man’s youngest son took a liking to Ed and decided to tease him about his affections for his mechanic. This led to the boy finding the phone number for the Rockbell home and calling Winry to get a rise out of the former Fullmetal Alchemist. One thing led to another and the boy gave Winry his house number.

“In case you wanted to talk to your booooooyfriend—” he teased before yelping in surprise.

“GIVE ME THE PHONE YOU LITTLE—” she heard Ed’s enraged scream before the line disconnected.

Winry smiles at the memory and thanks whoever is listening that she was given this phone number.

It’s late, and she’d probably feel bad about it in the morning, but she can’t care right now. She has to call him. She has to hear his voice.

She has to make sure he really is there.

Picking up the receiver, Winry dials the number listed on the notepad.

She waits one…two…three rings and thinks about hanging up. She doesn’t know what time it is over there but if it is as late as it is here, then she wouldn’t be surprised if nobody picks up—

“Hello?” comes an unknown voice, sleep evident in their tone.

It takes Winry a bit to process that someone indeed is answering the phone.

“Uh…ummm, I’m so sorry!” she begins, feeling very embarrassed, “I just…I was calling for Edward Elric. Is he still living there?”

She holds her breath. What is she thinking? Calling at this god-awful hour! And chances are Edward won’t be there. He probably left ages ago! He’s never one to stay still, why would he—

“Who is calling?” asks the voice.

Winry shakes her head of her thoughts, “M-My name is Winry Rockbell, sir. I’m a friend of his from Amestris.”

‘Friend? Really?’ Winry rolls her eyes, ‘Not like I promised him all my life to him or anything. Geez, Winry, get a grip!’

“Hang on. I’ll get him.” The man yawns on the other line and Winry hears the sound of the receiver being put down. She fidgets on the balls of her feet, now very aware of how silly she’s being. She just hopes Edward isn’t angry with her for the disruption.

“Hello?” comes the groggy and irritated voice of Edward Elric, “Winry? Professor Rodriguez said it was you calling. What in the name of Truth are you doing calling in the middle of the friggin’ night?”

Before Winry could explain, she feels her throat close up as more tears well up in her eyes. She can’t help it, hearing his voice had triggered something deep inside her.

He is there. He is there and talking to her. He didn’t leave forever!

“W-Winry?” now Ed’s voice sounds worried, “You there?”

“E-Ed!” Winry chokes out; a new wave of sobs wracking her body.

“Winry?! Winry, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? What’s the matter?” he frantically asks, “Is it Granny? Is she okay? What about Den? Oh god, please tell me it isn’t Al! Winry, please talk to me!”

“It’s fine!” she finally manages to say to him, “Everyone’s fine! I swear. I’m just…I’m just being really stupid right now.”

She hears him let out a sigh of relief before he softly commands, “Tell me what happened.”

So she does. She cries as she tells him of the dream (more like nightmare) where he and Al left her alone forever. It takes a bit of explaining because she keeps having a hard time composing herself, but she eventually finishes the retelling, feeling very emotionally drained.

“Wow. That’s one hell of a dream…” is what Ed finally says.

Winry nods, not caring that he can’t see her right now. “I know. It’s stupid. I’m sorry for waking you and your host.”

“Nah, don’t be. With this time zone stuff it’s not as late here as it is there. I actually wasn’t asleep for that long,” he reassures, but Winry knows he is just saying that to make her feel better.

There’s a brief silence between them, Winry reveling in the sound of Ed’s breathing before he speaks again.

“Tell you what,” he begins, piquing Winry’s curiosity, “my leg is starting to feel a bit off. I guess I’ve been pretty rough on it... How about I come home so you can do some maintenance on it? I’ll try to get on the earliest train I can find tomorrow.”

Winry feels an immense amount of guilt, “No, no! You just got settled, Edward! Don’t come back for my sake! I’ll be fine, I promise! Think of your research.”

She can’t see him but she knows he is rolling his eyes, “All this information isn’t going anywhere. I can always come back. Besides, it’s been three months yet I’ve learned so much already. Aren’t you the one always telling me to take care of my automail?”

Winry deflates, “Ed, you really don’t have to…”

“I know I don’t have to,” he says, “but I want to. I miss you.”

Winry feels her heart melt at his words. “I miss you, too.”

“Good. So I’ll see you in a few days, all right? Try to get some sleep. You can’t be the best automail engineer if you’re keeling over from exhaustion!”

Winry giggles. Somehow Ed always knows what to say to cheer her up. “Okay, I will. Thank you, Ed.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. There’s a pause and Winry wonders if he had hung up. Then she hears his voice quietly but gently say, “I love you.”

Winry’s smile grows, cheeks pink as she feels more tears come to her eyes. This time they are tears of happiness.

“I love you, too. Be safe, I’ll see you in a few days.”

With that they hang up. Winry goes into the kitchen to find her Granny sitting at the table, Den resting at her feet. Across from her is a freshly made cup of tea just for the blonde.

“How is Edward?” she asks, a knowing look on her face.

Winry blushes, “He’s good. He’s coming home in a couple of days. For maintenance.”

“Right, mainentance,” Pinako chuckles, stirring her own cup of tea. She gives Winry a calculative glance before speaking again.

“You know, there have been old myths and legends that say that your dreams are visions of another life.”

Winry contemplates this piece of information as she sips her tea.

“I never believed it, though,” her grandmother waves off. “It just seems like something to ponder about…”

Winry absently nods, staring at her cup in deep thought.

‘Another life, huh?’

It is a farfetched notion, but as Ed and Al would tell her, “Nothing is impossible.”

“I wonder how she’s doing.” Winry says before she can stop herself.

“Who?”

“The other me. Or dream me, I guess?” Winry replies, not quite sure how to refer to the woman she had embodied in her subconscious, “Her Edward and Alphonse left her. I wonder what she did to recover. Do you even think she did recover?”

She watches as her grandmother mulls over her questions before taking a final sip of her tea and rising from her chair to put it away. Once the task is complete, she walks over to Winry to give her a peck on the crown of her head.

“Of course she’s okay. There’s no doubt in my mind about it.”

Winry gives her a questioning look, “How do you know?”

Pinako smiles at her, “Because, darling, she’s a Rockbell. Rockbell women are strong. You’re strong.”

For the umpteenth time tonight, Winry feels more tears gather in her eyes. Honestly, how many more tears does she have in her?

Wiping away any stray tears that escape her eyes, Winry gives her grandmother a fierce hug. The old woman returns it just as fiercely. When they part, Pinako gives a tired yawn.

“If you excuse me, I’m going back to bed. You should do the same after you finish your tea. You can sleep in this morning. I’ll handle your customers until you wake up.”

“Thank you, Granny. For everything.” Winry says, giving her grandmother a kiss on her cheek.

“You’re welcome.” With that, the old woman leaves Winry alone with her thoughts.

Staring at the remainder of her tea, she continues to mull over her dream. She can’t help herself, it really did feel like she was there and experiencing everything happening. The emotions she felt were certainly real. After all, they had carried on into the waking world.

And despite Pinako’s words, she still worries for her counterpart. Is she really okay?

Winry shakes her head and decides to push it out of her mind. What good is dwelling on something that ultimately doesn’t affect her in the first place?

Finishing her tea, Winry places the cup in the sink and calls for Den to accompany her back to her room. Once there, she curls up under her covers and feels her eyelids droop. She refuses to think about the dream or this “other life” nonsense. Instead, she thinks about Edward and how he would be coming home in a few days.

He is coming home to her.

--------------

In another life, another universe, there is a different version of Winry Rockbell who experiences realistic dreams too.

In these dreams she sees Edward and Alphonse standing in front of her, smiling and laughing.

They aren’t gone. They’re with her.

Alphonse looks different than what she remembers. He looks to be the age he should have been had he not regressed those four years in the Gate. His hair color is also a lighter shade, matching his older brother’s.

She couldn’t hear what the dream Al was saying to her, but after giving her a brotherly side-hug he runs off back to the house—probably to help her Granny fix supper—and leaves her with Edward.

Looking at this Edward, she can tell he is happier and lighter here. Less burdened by the harshness of the world.

He has a flesh arm too, which she thinks is odd, but she can’t say she isn’t happy to see the lack of metal. She can’t see his left leg, though, for his long pants. Is it flesh too?

She hears herself say something to him (but again, she isn’t quite sure what it is), causing him to roll his eyes and childishly pout. She laughs at him, and is glad to see that he joins in laughing with her as well.

It’s then that the dream Edward moves towards her and pulls her into his embrace. He’s warm, and Winry feels safe. She can feel all the tension and worry leave her body.

“I love you, Gearhead.”

She smiles.

“I love you too, Alchemy Freak.”

She then finds herself inquiring, “You’ll always be here, right?”

She feels him nod against her shoulder.

“Of course. You, Al, and me; we’re a team. We’ll always be here for each other. That’s a promise!”

She melts in his embrace. “Promise…”

Winry’s eyes slide open, feeling content and happy. She always did after these particular dreams. That is, until reality kicks in and she’d feel that familiar emptiness again…

The first time she experienced them she felt such a crushing sadness at the fact the dreams were never reality. Edward and Alphonse aren’t here with her. They are having their own adventures in some other dimension she can’t access.

Her grandmother had once told her that dreams show a life another version of you is experiencing, but Winry isn’t so sure. That is such a fantastical concept.

But if it is real… That means there is a life she lives where Ed and Al came home whole and happy. And they never left.

She’s envious of that version’s Winry.

Sighing, Winry stretches and pulls herself out of bed, ready to start a new day.

No use dwelling on things that can’t be helped. What’s done is done. And she has an automail business to attend to.

Before she heads out the door, she spares one last glance to the framed photo of her two best friends. A bittersweet smile spreads across her pretty face.

“I hope the dream me never takes you two for granted.”

#edwin #edward elric #winry rockbell #fma #fmab #fma 03 #ish #kinda combines all canons #my writing #fanfiction

13 notes · View notes

queenwinry · 7 years

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Into the Galaxies-FMA Secret Santa

A very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! Specifically I’d like to dedicate this one to @avatarmerida who I got for Secret Santa this year! She mentioned liking edwin and royai as well as au’s so I decided to do one I’ve always loved the thought of but never delved deeper into: Star Wars au! It’s got a little sprinkling of both pairings as well as Ed and Roy being general idiots ;) I hope you like it!

Captain Roy Mustang, trained star wing fighter pilot, resident First Order hater, and the quintessential example of the phrase “Rebel scum” was about ready to turn over to the dark side if the little golden-haired prodigy didn’t shut up.

And he wasn’t even Force sensitive.

“What’s the matter, Captain,” said his commanding officer’s smug little pet, his arms crossed in a self-satisfied gesture that made Mustang want to find the nearest light saber and end it all. “Afraid of a teeny tiny little patrol ship? And here I thought you were General Grumman’s greatest weapon. Ohhh no, wait...that’s me.”

“Elric,” Mustang bit out, his hands fisting atop the control board inside the main command center of their remote base. “I understand that you’re the Resistance’s ‘only hope’ or whatever-”

“Do you? Because it sounds like you’re just a tad bit jealous.”

“But,” Mustang spoke through gritted teeth, having to use immense restraint to blow over that jab without a rebuttal. “You would be putting our entire group at risk by even attempting to sneak by the First Order. I hate those jackasses as much as anyone, but there are other things to think about here.”

Finally, Ed’s face hardened from genial teasing to a more serious look of anger. “I get that Captain Assface, but if you or Grumman or the entire Resistance want me to do anything we need to get to my mechanic in the Rush Valley system. We can take on the First Order’s patrol.”

Roy rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Elric, alerting them to our presence right now is not a good idea. Even if it is one tiny patrol, they’re all linked back to Father and the entire First Order. They’ll alert the top leaders and then we’ve got their whole army and a Death Star hunting down our asses.”

“They’re always hunting down our asses. Honestly, Mustang, when did you get so complacent with hiding? I figured out of everyone you’d be the one most on my side about this.”

Roy scoffed. “I am, to a certain degree. But as much as I want to torch every ship in their fleet, I understand a little thing called timing, unlike you. We need to lay low for now.”

Mustang could tell Ed was angry. No, angry wasn’t the right word. Frustrated was probably more appropriate. The elder Elric had been antsy ever since he and his brother had stumbled upon their base. It hadn’t been the Resistance leaders’ plan to host the brothers here, but in their quest across the galaxies looking for a way to restore the younger brother’s ‘soul’ to his original body (or whatever other Jedi nonsense Roy didn’t understand), they’d come upon the majority of the Rebels’ hiding spot. Grumman had been beside himself when he realized who they’d found.

Or rather, who found them.

But the headache of dealing with the stubborn Edward Elric, Force sensitive prodigy extraordinaire, was beginning to drain Mustang in a way he hadn’t ever experienced. They butted heads constantly. His weapons expert claimed it was because they were so similar (a thought Roy didn’t like entertaining for too long), but he was sure it was because the younger man didn’t like the idea of authority.

Granted, Roy had his moments when he didn’t either (a fact Grumman continuously liked to remind him of), but he knew when to shut up and accept orders that were important.

Their current tiff came about because of Ed’s recent pressing desire to see his mechanic in the Rush Valley system. He claimed it was because she was the only one who could adequately fix his busted mechanical arm (broken because of one too many unnecessary engagements with First Order patrols), but Roy knew it was because he wanted to check up on her. They’d gotten reports that the Order was intensifying its command on the area because of suspected Rebel outpockets. Ever since Ed had gotten wind of it, he’d been pleading with whoever would listen to take him to see her. They’d grown up together, so of course she was important to him, but Roy could tell by the desperation in his eyes that it went deeper than that.

Problem was, they had to get past the First Order to get to her. Ed thought it was a mere stumbling block in the road that could be easily passed. Captain Mustang knew better.

“Mustang,” Ed began after a lull in their conversation. Roy had to keep his surprise contained at the shift in tone of the younger man’s voice. He really was getting desperate, and if there was anything Captain Roy Mustang knew about, it was the gnawing panic and fear that came when someone that close to him was being threatened.

The blaster burn across his weapons expert’s back came to mind with a sickening clarity.

“I have to get to Winry. Rush Valley isn’t ready for a full blown First Order assault. They’re just engineers. If she stays there, she could be in danger.”

“Edward,” Roy spoke, reverting to the use of his first name given the gravity of their conversation. “If we go, we could all be in danger. It’s not a fun decision to make, but one mechanic doesn’t outweigh the entirety of the Resistance.”

Immediately, Ed’s golden eyes narrowed dangerously, a dark glint appearing in their swirling depths. Roy didn’t like the look of it one bit. “That mechanic is right up there with my brother as one of the most important people in my life. I already screwed things up with Al and put him in danger. I won’t do the same for Winry. If you don’t help me get to her, your little Resistance loses my help.”

And with one final glare, Ed shoved past Roy and exited the command center in an angry flurry just as Roy’s right-hand woman was entering. She watched the golden-haired blur brush past her without a word and immediately lifted an eyebrow before looking skeptically back at her commanding officer. “What was that about?” she calmly asked, noticing the tension in Roy’s shoulders and the dark look on his face.

Mustang merely shook his head at her. “That kid is too stubborn for his own good,” he spoke gravely.

A soft and knowing smile crossed Riza’s face as she walked up to where he stood, the silence of the empty command center nearly deafening. As she approached him, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm, though it did nothing to abate the thoughts passing at hyper speed through his mind. “Sounds familiar,” she quipped before leaning into his side. Roy, despite everything, couldn’t help but be grateful for the late hour that allowed her to feel relaxed enough to take such liberties.

“He’s in love with his mechanic, which means he’s not going to listen to anyone’s advice. He’d just as soon hop in an escape pod and take on the First Order’s entire star fleet himself.”

Riza smiled knowingly as her hand ran up the front of Roy’s chest, underneath his usual brown jacket. “Men do crazy things when they’re in love.”

Finally, Mustang turned his head toward her and their lips lightly brushed. He pulled back slightly with a resigned look on his face. “I’m going to have to do this, aren’t I?”

Riza couldn’t help the small laugh she let out. “Seems so, Captain.”

Roy let out a groan. “Ugh, fine. Grumman’s going to have my ass for this one,” he spoke before placing a small peck on Riza’s lips. “Alright, let’s get the Phoenix ready.” ---- Roy’s hands clutched the controls of his beloved ship as it darted through spacetime at hyper speed. The strategy he and Riza had discussed late into the previous night was to come in to the system (and specifically the planet they knew Winry was on) at hyper speed. A dangerous decision, but it was their only hope of averting attention from the First Order. They’d probably still have to deal with a patrol or two, but Ed (of course) was confident they’d manage to get through before any of the higher-ups were alerted. Captain Mustang wasn’t so sure.

“What are we even supposed to say when we get there, Brother?” Al’s distinctly mechanical voice called from the droid his soul had been attached to.

“What are you talking about, Al?” Ed spoke, lazily enjoying a game of virtual chess. He was still positively glowing from his victory over Mustang. While Roy knew the entirety of the Resistance leaders would be pissed as hell at him for going against orders the minute they saw the Phoenix making a hasty exit from the base, Ed didn’t seem to give a single shit. He had gotten his way, Mustang would get the wrap for it, and he’d be seeing Winry for the first time in forever. She’d probably smack him upside the head the minute she realized his arm was busted, but that didn’t bare thinking about at the moment.

“Well...it’s probably unlikely we won’t attract some attention. And if we just stop in for a quick visit and repair and then leave, Winry’s going to be the first one the Order goes after. We’ll have to move her or at the very least take her with us,” Al said, taking a little bit of the air out of Ed’s balloon.

“Yeah...I guess so. But there are plenty of secure places she can go. Granny’s been wanting her back on Resembool anyway and the First Order doesn’t know to find her there.”

A mechanical groan sounded. “Something tells me she’s not going to be happy about it.”

Ed sighed. “She’ll deal with it. It’s better than her being interrogated or worse by the First Order. Once we explain everything...she’ll be on board.”

“You know, Elric, I have a feeling you’re not used to involving her in your plans. That seems a little cruel, don’t you think?” Roy commented from the pilot seat. Beside him, Riza eyed her captain with a skeptical look, knowing he was delving into dangerous territory questioning Ed’s relationship like this. Roy was pissed off enough not to care.

“Shut the hell up, Captain Bastard. You don’t know anything about us.”

“I know enough to realize you’re usually keeping this ‘friend’ of yours in the dark about these things. Force sensitive Rebels are the First Order’s least favorite, believe it or not. She’s in danger from simply knowing who you are. Why not tell her the important stuff?”

Roy could practically see Ed seething from behind him, but he simply kept his eyes on the passing lights of the galaxy.

“Winry doesn’t need to be involved in what we’ve done,” Ed eventually said in a low and dark voice. “She’s safer when we don’t tell her things.”

“And yet, here you are putting her entire system on the radar of the First Order, pissing off all the Resistance leaders, and making my life miserable just to see her again. Doesn’t sound very safe to me.”

“Captain,” Riza finally admonished, knowing that he was being just a touch too real for a young man who was a touch too naive about these kinds of things.

There was silence from behind them, as Roy continued piloting his ship, waiting for Ed’s blustering rebuttal. It never came, though. Eventually, the captain sighed and spoke. “Trust me on this one, kid. You’re not doing her any favors keeping this stuff from her. If your feelings are as deep as I think they are, you’ll realize what her role is in all of this.”

Mustang waited for that one to sink in before he heard Ed abruptly rise to his feet and walk away from the cockpit of the ship, his brother following after him questioningly.

Riza heaved a sigh to match his own and shot him a reprimanding look.

“What? I’m right,” he defended.

“Maybe so, but I don’t think your approach is what he needs right now. If anything, this Winry Rockbell should be the one setting him straight about that.”

“Not like he’d listen to either of us. He does whatever the hell he wants whenever the hell he wants to do it.”

Riza scoffed. “And you say you’re nothing alike.”

Just as Roy was shooting her a disbelieving look at her slight, one of the displays went off, indicating their approach to the Rush Valley system. Roy groaned when he noticed it.

“Great, we’re almost to the hornet’s nest. Better hop into the gunner position.”

Riza calmly removed her headset and rose from the co-pilot seat at her superior’s direction, feeling just as apprehensive as he was. Still, she could never help himself from teasing him. “Yes, I suppose we might need someone who knows how to operate a blaster cannon. May the force be with you, sir,” she said with a small, almost imperceptible smirk as she descended into the gunner seat.

Roy shot her an annoyed look as she left.

“Very funny,” he mumbled to himself, having heard enough about the Force and the Jedi’s for a lifetime. If Edward Elric was anything to go off of, budding Jedi’s were the most insufferably arrogant people who tended to do whatever they hell they wanted.

Who knows? Maybe he did have a bit of Force sensitivity in him after all.

He shook away that disconcerting thought as he got to work preparing the ship to exit hyper speed. He knew they’d be coming in hot if his calculations were accurate, so he strapped himself in and asked Riza to call for the brothers to do the same. Not half a minute had passed before Ed was running back into the cockpit, strapping himself into the co-pilot seat, much to Roy’s chagrin. He didn’t have time to argue, however, as he had to immediately pull the ship out of hyper-speed.

Only to narrowly avoid slamming into a skyscraper.

“Fucking hell, Mustang, did you have to come in that low?”

Roy’s hands gripped the controls as he maneuvered the ship around the high-reaching buildings with expert skill. “Couldn’t take any chances. You want to see your girl? This is the way we’re doing it.”

Ed growled from beside him, but held on and said nothing as they flew away. It took quite a bit of twisting and turning to be able to get them out of the danger zone, but he eventually got the ship around the outside of the city they had made their approach into.

“So where are we supposed to meet this mechanic of yours?” Roy asked once the ship stabilized.

“She said she’d be-,” Ed began, but was quickly interrupted by a screeching alarm on the control panel. The pair both looked down to see what was going off.

Proximity alarm.

“We got company, Captain,” Riza called desperately from down below and Roy cursed under his breath.

“Dammit, and here I thought we’d gotten past them. Hope you’re ready for a fight, kid,” he said to Ed, gunning the engines up as two First Order fighter ships appeared on the radar from behind.

Ed scoffed. “I’m always ready for a fight.”

Roy smirked at that. “Yeah, no shit,” he spoke cheekily before quickly swiveling the ship to the side, leading the two fighters outside of the city to avoid unnecessary damage. Not that most residents of Rush Valley weren’t always itching for something to fix.

The fighters began shooting at them and Roy had to quickly dip from side to side to avoid a direct strike. The Phoenix had seen better days, so the less blaster rays to the hull, the better. He could hear Riza attempting to shoot them down as best she could, but the constant maneuvering made it difficult.

“I need a better shot on them, Captain,” she shouted, already sounding frustrated.

“I’m working on it!” he called back, sweat beading down his forward as he took the two fighters around and into a rocky canyon. The two men in the cockpit watched warily as they just managed to squeeze through the crevices provided by the towering rocks, but whatever they could fit through, the much smaller fighter ships could as well.

“Flip us around!” came Riza’s voice again.

Roy lifted an eyebrow as he raised them back up to ground level. “You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah, just do it!”

“Alright, your wish is my command, Hawkeye,” he let out slyly as he slowed the engines down and completely inverted the ship. Not anticipating the change, the two fighter ships dashed on by. Roy and Ed heard their canon go off before there was an explosion in the distance and one of the blips on the radar disappeared.

“Nice!” Ed shouted victoriously.

Roy shook his head. “Damn, I sure am lucky to have the best shot in the galaxy on my ship.”

“And don’t forget it!” she shouted and he could practically hear her smirk.

“Think you can do it again?” he challenged, watching as the remaining fighter looped around to follow after them again.

“Line me up.”

Roy did as she directed, attempting a new strategy to throw their pursuer off and get Riza in the right position to deal the final blow. They worked like clockwork, the pair of them, so it didn’t take much for Roy to pilot the ship so she could get the shot she wanted and for her to quickly take it down.

Roy righted the ship back up once she had finished her business and they dashed outside the city limits in an attempt to regroup. It didn’t seem as though the First Order had sent anyone else to get them, but Roy had to remain cautious. He doubted either of the two fighters would simply forget to alert their superiors, so laying low for now would be the easiest option. Still, there was something that didn’t feel right.

“That was surprisingly easy,” Mustang commented as he dipped into another canyon for cover.

Ed shrugged from beside him. “Well, what do you expect? Those fighter pilots are lousy shots.”

Roy mulled this over. “Yeah, but their strength comes in numbers,” he pondered. “With a ship as recognizable as mine, it’s suspicious that they only sent two guys after us.”

Ed didn’t offer up another idea, merely brushing the possibility of danger aside before telling Roy where to meet Winry. Immediately the captain questioned the safety of stopping to pick her up, but Ed only smiled slyly and reassured his companion they would be alright.

Following Ed’s directions, Roy flew them into the mountains outside the docking city, and the captain couldn’t help but wonder how the hell he was supposed to land their ship in this kind of terrain. Still Ed offered no more than a sadistically satisfied smile as they approached what looked to be nothing more than a hut at the top of a mountain. Just as Roy was about ready to strangle Ed for leading them into absolute nothingness, the mountain mysteriously began to part to reveal a completely cloaked hanger. Ed delighted a bit too much in Captain Mustang’s completely astonished expression as he carefully landed the Phoenix inside and the doors closed behind them.

The golden-haired almost-Jedi nearly burst through the exit door of the ship, his brother not far behind him. After waiting for Riza to come up from the gunner seat, they approached the Elric brothers just as Ed was enveloping a pretty blonde woman in his arms. Al wrapped his metal arms around the both of them and the trio laughed and cried at having been finally reunited.

“Oh, I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve seen you both. You guys keep running across the galaxy and yet you never end up in the Rush Valley system.”

Ed sheepishly let her go and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, sorry about that. Things have been kind of crazy lately.”

At these words, Winry’s eyes immediately narrowed and she crossed her arms. “Yeah, so I’ve heard. You guys just can’t keep to yourselves, can you? Of all the enemies to have, you had to choose the First Order?”

Both Ed and Al gaped at her, floundering for words at her accusations. Mustang and Hawkeye watched on in amusement.

“H-How do you know about all that?” Ed asked, completely aghast.

“Oh please, why wouldn’t I know about all that? Did you think I would just sit here and do nothing while you guys are out getting into trouble? Please, I’ve been doing my research. And making some friends,” she spoke, a sly note to her tone. Finally, she turned toward Mustang. “Sorry about the trouble coming in, Captain. We were supposed to make it so that no one followed you, but those two fighters slipped through.”

This caught his immediate attention, as he stepped forward to address the spritely young blonde himself. “Wait, is that why there were only two of them? How did you manage that?”

“Oh, we may or may not have put up a cloaking shield around the entire city without the First Order knowing about it,” Winry replied, looking awfully proud of herself as she placed her hands casually behind her back and rocked back and forth on her heels.

Roy’s mouth practically dropped to the floor. “H-how is that even possible?”

“It’s a city of engineers, Captain. We have our ways,” she answered with a small wink. “Only trouble was that we were just a touch too late. The two guys that went after you managed to slip under before we were able to finish it, but you shouldn’t have any trouble leaving provided you go straight into hyper speed. Now come on down to the base. You all must be starving.”

“B-base!?” Ed exclaimed, his eyes bugging out of his head. Roy didn’t look much different.

“Yeah, silly, the underground Rebel base that’s been operating out of Rush Valley and that I’ve been working with ever since you guys left. Honestly Ed, what did you think I was doing all this time? Patching up landspeeders every day?”

With a twinkle in her eye, the mechanic-turned-Rebel-engineer swiveled and began to walk away, directing them to follow after her. Ed and Al did so still positively beside themselves at all this new groundbreaking information while Roy and Riza followed behind them, shaking their heads.

If there was one thing Captain Roy Mustang had learned since joining the Resistance, it was that allies could be found in every single grimey, no-name corner of the galaxy. That night he ate with other Resistance friends while Winry berated Ed constantly for busting up his arm, Alphonse laughed happily at all his new friends, and Riza shot him satisfied, delightfully meaningful looks as the two moons rose in the Rush Valley sky.

#fma #edwin #royai #fma au #fmasecretsanta2017 #my fanfiction #oneshots #hope you like it!#i know you said you liked b99 but i'm The Worst and haven't seen an episode #an a perusal through your blog revealed you're into star wars which was something i could do more justice to #merry christmas!

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