#i struggled less with the mustang team

[number1greedlingfan]

autism be damned i can cook

[missathlete31]

Nowhere to Run- Chapter 4

Five months after The Confrontation and things are not looking good for Maverick- (WARNING- MAVERICK GOES THROUGH IT THIS CHAPTER- I apologize in advance but this is an ANGST WRITING ZONE, be warned)

I feel like posting two chapters today. Please note if you’ve missed chapter 3 you can find it here- https://www.tumblr.com/missathlete31/712311725180026880/nowhere-to-run-chapter-3

It had been five months since the Navy decided to make the Daggers a permanent squad and not a day had gone by smoothly in Maverick's opinion. It had all started with Hangman's confrontation, a memory which seemed to be destined to plague the older pilot's mind forever. Jake's words that day were like knives, slicing the peaceful charade that Maverick had clung so hard to after the mission. After almost losing so much, including his own life and the life of his godson, the aging Captain just wanted stability, was that so much to ask? The team needed it too, they were all lost in that post adrenaline clinginess that pushed pilots to dangerous addictions found in bars and strangers bedrooms. But not the Daggers, not his Daggers, they just wanted a place to belong, or so Pete's naive mind told him. This was his own chance at that familial unit he always longed for and yet Seresin had to destroy it all in just a matter of seconds.

The adult part of Maverick knew the fallout was his own damn fault for bringing up such an explosive topic and in a public forum no less but never in his wildest dreams did he imagine how destructive things would have gotten; how raw and how real. The wounds left behind were gaping, the slashes making Pete feel exposed; his choices questioned, his judgment scorned, his leadership capabilities almost completely gone.

So much in Maverick wanted to be mad at Hangman, and a younger version of himself would have been. He would have lashed back, (similar to how Bradley did), stood up for himself and ripped Jake Seresin and his haughtiness into a whole other stratosphere. But Pete wasn’t that type of man anymore, not after decades of Ice running interference, playing blocker, and molding Pete into something resembling a commanding officer in the Navy.

Maverick didn’t fight Hangman that day but he also didn’t talk him down. He stood frozen as the room erupted in emotion and tension. He could have stepped up and called order to the group, he should have as an officer and as their leader, but instead he stayed quiet.

There was so much he wished he could change about that day, so much he wish he had articulated to the blonde or even to the rest of the group. Maybe he could have salvaged the team, or at least salvaged the relationships on his team. But no. Instead Maverick stood in that hangar frozen with guilty thoughts and feelings of inadequacy and now all the pilots that had been under his command were struggling.

When the dust settled from the altercation only four original Daggers were left: Rooster, Phoenix, Fanboy and Fritz.

If Hangman’s words had any positive, it was that it made Bradley a permanent fixture to the Captain Mitchell's side. Rooster defend Maverick without hesitation and though Maverick knew that half the argument was due to the two younger pilots absolutely hating each other, a part of him felt warmed by the steadiness of having Rooster in his corner. After Jake had left and Bradley moved to leave as well, Pete followed his godson, the two talking out Bradley’s frustrations and giving each other what the other needed. For Bradley it was support and guidance, for Mav it was a family.

Bradley sticking with him had been a pleasant surprise to Maverick. After the mission and then the loss of the Dagger Squad, Pete had tried to seize onto the young Bradshaw with both hands, a notion that seemed to be encouraged by Rooster. He started coming over to Pete's hangar to work on the Mustang, he joined him for dinner, the two even took a trip to the cemetery together to pay respect to Bradley's parents and talk about the mission. It was everything Maverick had hoped for but the rejection from 16 years ago made him leery of when the bubble would burst. After the loss of Ice, Maverick didn't think he was strong enough to handle Bradley leaving him again as well. It wasn't right, he knew it wasn't, but anything the older man could do to keep Bradley by his side he would, his own career be damned.

As for the rest of the Daggers things weren't as simple.

Phoenix staying seemed like a given in the beginning but Pete assumed he was going to lose her after Bob left. The woman, defying expectations once more, stayed put, firmly by Bradley's side but with a few more walls up now that so many of her teammates had bailed. She wasn't the same pilot as she was before the mission; the teasing gone and the confidence hollowed down to a harsher cockiness that never felt right from Natasha. She lost her heart and instead of being a steadfast welcome-committee for their newcomers, Lieutenant Trace seemed to become their resident bully. Phoenix had single-handedly scared away three separate WSO's that she didn't feel were up to her standards. Maverick had meant to sit her down, to talk things out with her, but he felt so off-footed since the Seresin incident that he wasn't sure how to even broach the topic anymore. So the Captain gave the female pilot space and pretended to ignore how lifeless their Phoenix was becoming.

As despondent as Natasha looked, she held nothing to Fanboy. After Payback announced not only his declining of the Dagger Squad but his actual retirement, Maverick assumed Mickey was leaving just as quickly. Instead the young pilot stayed on but unfortunately without any of his life and spirit. Payback was Fanboy's best friend, almost like his older brother and having managed successfully one of the most difficult missions ever attempted in Naval history, Mickey was coming down from the adrenaline very lonely. He still kept up his jovial mood as best he could but something crucial was missing and instead of cheering everyone up, Mickey just became another reminder of what they had lost. Things were hopefully going to turn around now that Fanboy was flying with Phoenix. After sending yet another WSO packing, Fanboy offered to back-seat with her. Maverick couldn't tell who looked more thrown off from the prospect but they both eventually managed to agree. The first hop didn't end in tears, yells, or a crash, so Pete was encouraged.

Billy Avalone was Maverick's biggest surprise of all though. Fritz was a talented pilot, one of the best of the group, and Hangman wasn't wrong when he said that the last week of training featured Fritz, Fanboy and Payback hitting the targets and the time fluently. Yet Maverick didn't pick him for the mission, and if the older man was honest with himself, Fritz was never even considered. It was Rooster and Hangman if it were two pilots going, and the minute Maverick claimed the team leader spot, it was Bradley as his wingman; nothing else to decide. When the yelling had started in the Hangar and Fritz's skills brought to attention, Maverick assumed it was a one way ticket for Billy to split. Instead, Fritz stayed at North Island. Mav had later found out it was because the Avalone family lived close by, but it still meant something that the kid stuck it out with the team; a decision Maverick knew he was probably regretting at this point.

There were just too many spots to fill.

The list of Naval Aviators that had volunteered to join them was long and distinguished, but also a revolving door. No one seemed to last beyond a week or two. Personalities clashed, fights were always raging between someone in the locker room, and it bled out into the skies. The whole process reminded Pete a lot of his time at Top Gun but with more viciousness. Perhaps because the stakes were higher, or maybe because the original Daggers were mourning the loss of the team they could have been, but it seemed like every other day Maverick was being called into Admiral Simpson's office about yet another pilot calling for a reassignment.

Some egos were too high to curtail, others too low to build up. Some people gelled well under Maverick’s tutelage; others rolled their eyes and were back with their old squadrons by the next morning. The frustration on everyone’s part was reaching a breaking point and Pete knew his chance of running this team was diminishing with each frown on Admiral Simpson’s face. Maverick’s time was nearing its end and he no longer had Ice to buffer his fall. He was on his own, no parachute in sight.

Maverick headed up to his plane for the first hop of the day with little excitement. The joy he used to have with the prospect of training the best of the best had slowly numbed down to an obligation, something he never wanted when it came to flying. He saw it in some of the other’s eyes as well and the pain that that caused him, hurt even more. He sighed, his hold on his helmet clenching tighter as he chastised himself. He owed it to the pilots he still had, the pilots that were being brought in, to give it his best. Resolving himself, Maverick found some pep, deciding the first hop of the day would be the perfect opportunity to run some of his old tricks. He was going up with two planes, a double and a single. All three pilots were replacements. The duo, Xavier “Professor X” Jones and Benjamin “Sherlock” Harrington, were working well and a fairly decent acquisition. They gelled well with the others and Sherlock had even flown in the same squadron as Bradley once during a deployment in Japan. Maverick was happy with their skills but was more impressed with their teamwork, the two flew together like naturals after only two months.

The single pilot was a different story. Adam “Flash” Scafer was the newest tryout for the team. He was young, painfully so compared to some of the others, having only graduated Top Gun about a year ago. Flash had shockingly blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a cocky attitude. All three combined made him a ghost of two blondes that still haunted Pete’s mind. His teamwork definitely needed work but it was his skills that worried Maverick the most. The kid acted as though flying came so naturally to him but Pete found he lacked the normal instincts of a Naval Aviator. Everything seemed to take an extra second before Flash moved, almost as though he had to think it through. It wasn’t necessarily the worst thing to think out there (no matter how much Maverick stood behind his ‘don’t think, just do’ mantra), but Lieutenant Scafer would then over-correct or push to make up for that split second of time, leaving him flailing and his plane erratic. Pete was convinced the kid wouldn’t make it past the week.

Despite his shortcomings, Flash talked- and a lot. Captain Mitchell knew he wasn’t the only one who saw the similarities to Hangman, Flash taking over the room like the former blonde did but with none of the finesse. Bradley had already almost come to blows with the kid and he’d only been there three days. Fritz had mentioned to Fanboy in a stage whisper that Seresin must have sent the team his long lost love child just to screw with them, a joke that didn’t land quite as well as Billy had hoped (Rooster had huffed and stormed off, Phoenix following this time).

As Maverick watched the three pilots get into their aircrafts and take to the skies, he decided to have fun and test some limits. It had been a while since he pulled some of the tricks he did with the original Daggers, and he missed some of his daring moves, especially his infamous entrance. Ramming through the small space between two planes, first attempted between Payback and Rooster’s jets during the first day of Uranium Mission training, was always the best way to examine the team’s skill levels. He had attempted it a few times as other pilots took their turns with the squad, Maverick watching as majority stayed in control during the surprise swoop in. There were a few sloppy maneuvers, certainly nothing as clean as from his original Daggers, but nothing life-threatening.

Maverick turned his plane into position, listening to Sherlock fill Flash into their flight plan before Pete came crashing in to their personal space, quite literally. Captain Mitchell flew through perfectly, his plane staying straight and vertical as his speed and velocity caused a concussion of air to ripple over the other F-18 Super Hornets. He smirked as he listened to the initial curse of surprise from Jones, the pilot shifting to his left with a jerky motion. Mav moved to speak in his radio and chide Xavier for the sloppiness when a cry of serious profanities stopped him in his tracks and made his blood run cold.

“Shit!” he recognized Sherlock’s voice, normally so composed and calm on the radio, “shit Flash what the hell-“

“Fuck-“ the blonde had screamed over his teammate instead of answering, the hollering loud and fearful, “fuck!”

Sherlock was still talking, a rambling of mashed up sentence that tried to resemble coherence, "shit- we're- Flash you went left- shit! We're- Fire! X! X!" he cried and Maverick turned his plane around enough to catch the result of what had to be a midair collision. It seemed Flash had rolled left instead of right after Maverick’s trick, sending him towards the other jet where he struck the entire starboard side. Jones’s plane was falling fast, it’s wing crushed and a fire starting along the right side causing them to spin out of control. Pete’s hand shook and suddenly it seemed hard to breath. His mind flashed back to his own tailspin so many years ago, the taste of death filling his sense and rendering him mute.

“Base? Base this is Sherlock-“ the WSO sounded close to tears as he called over the radio, pleading for some sort of assistance in a helpless situation, “we have made contact with Flash, I repeat we have made contact with Flash-“

“We’re going down Sherlock” Jones was speaking now, his voice hoarse as he groaned over the radio. Maverick could picture him, his body fighting the G’s of his freefall while pitifully gripping his stick to get out of it. There was nothing he could do, nothing any pilot could do, except to bail, and yet every pilot always tried to save their damn jet up until the very end.

“Base our right engine is on fire” Sherlock recited, “the whole wing is destroyed-“

Maverick could see the fire spreading, the plane falling closer to the ground with each passing second. Suddenly the radio clicked back on and Admiral Simpson’s voice was booming, “Captain Mitchell what the hell is going on up there?” he asked desperately, clearly unhinged by what he was hearing from the ground. "Who hit who?"

His questions went unanswered as the spiraling plane continued their frantic calls, “Shit! I’m a dead stick Benny" Jones informed agonizingly, "we gotta eject-“

Sherlock sounded like he was crying, a wet sob sounding over the comms, “We’re too out of control-“

“Captain Mitchell?” Cyclone tried again, but when he heard nothing, he turned back to the pilots in trouble, “Jones, Harrington, eject now. Get out of there-“

“But Sir-“

“Pull it Jones! That's an order!"

"I can't-" Xavier's breath hitched, "I can't reach- shit" he cursed with a audible hiss, "the fire- it's hitting the cockpit-"

"Harrington pull the cord!"

“Good speed X” the fear in the WSO’s voice was palpable as he wished his pilot luck in what could be their final moments. Maverick watched in horror as the two-seater erupted in flames just as the canopy flew back. Both seats went up, both cleared the covering but Pete could see the flames that licked too close to Xavier’s body and quickly consumed the right side of his flight suit. He was close enough to see Jones’s frantic swatting before the parachutes deployed and both pilots began a slower decent back down to earth.

Seeing the two parachutes and the movements of both pilots gained Pete back his voice and he zoned back in to hear Simpson’s continual calling of information. He cleared his throat, feeling parched, “B-Base" his voice sounded weak and shaky to his own ears, "Lieutenants Jones and Harrington have ejected. Send rescue immediately”

“Maverick" Simpson's voice seemed to rise in octave with a strange mixture of relief and scorn, "what the hell happened out there? Where were you?”

“I- I’m over the rescue site Sir-“

“I meant when it happened Captain, where were you?"

"Up here Sir, I- I missed the collision," he spoke up, not quite ready to admit out loud his part in the cause of it, "but I saw the tailspin and the fire. Have the burn unit on standby, Jones's suit seemed to have caught."

"How did it-" but Beau cut himself off, knowing it wasn’t the time or the place to get into Mitchell’s actions. Instead he hollered to the other pilot in the sky, “Lieutenant Scafer status?”

“S-Sir?” the blonde sounded absolutely wrecked, long removed from the cocky jerk he was not even an hour ago, and Maverick turned his head to see him circling disjointedly a few dozen feet above him, “S-Sir, I’m so s-s-sorry-“ Adam whimpered.

Simpson's voice softened a fractionally amount at the clearly distressed pilot on the other end, “What is the status of your plane Lieutenant?”

The young man swallowed nervously, “D-Damaged but flyable” he stuttered.

“Get back to base immediately” Cyclone ordered, no room for argument. Pete listened as Flash gave a puny "Yes Sir" before turning his plane and heading back to base. Down below, Harrington and Jones were seconds from touching down, and Maverick could hear the chatter on the radio from the rescue squad that was just taking off. He was about to list his coordinates when the Admiral addressed him once more. "Mitchell head back to base as well."

"But I'm over the crash site Sir-"

"I don't want you in the air anymore" the higher ranking man stated frankly, "get back to base."

"But Sir-"

"Now Mitchell" and then Pete heard the telltale sound of the frequency being switched. The naval captain was cut off from the news of the rescue, resolved to head back to base like a delinquent child; the looming threat of punishment heavy on the horizon.

A hour later Pete sat in the waiting room of the medical unit on base, his legs jumping from nerves as he waited for news. His four original Daggers had all been in to see him, Rooster pale and unsteady, Phoenix stoic, Fanboy sad and Fritz in shock. They didn't last long though, as Warlock ushered them all out and into a lecture room for a debrief, another sign to Maverick that his days were officially numbered.

Now Pete sat alone and in silence, his mind supplying all the noise he could need as it remembered obscure facts about his downed pilots. How Jones played four years of varsity soccer in high school. How Sherlock always kept a pen and pad on him, no matter where they were. How the duo each had one younger brother, one younger sister and a yellow lab. How it was meant to be for them to be flying together, how natural it came to them both. Pete couldn’t help but wonder if the two would ever fly together again or like everything else in the Captains life, he ruined something good once again.

Footsteps heading towards him snapped Maverick out of his own mind and he looked up to see Admiral Simpson walking forward. The man looked like the very definition of stress, his face pinched with worry and his hands clenching at his sides. He nodded to the chair to Pete's left before speaking, "can I sit?" he asked softly.

Pete nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he watched Beau sit with a heavy sigh. The two men sat in silence for a moment, watching the bustle of the medical ward that they both spent far too much time in yet still felt foreign. Finally Cyclone cleared his throat, "Lieutenant Jones is still in surgery," he informed stoically, "once they get the internal bleeding taken care of they will address the burns."

"How- How bad?" Maverick whispered, afraid to hear the answer.

"Second degree on his chest and thighs, right arm is third degree" the Admiral's eyes shifted to Maverick for a second before staring back at the wall, "It's going to be a long road back."

"Can he make it back?"

Beau shook his head, "I don't know, that's up to him." He hesitated for a moment, clearly debating what to say next. "Pete listen-"

"How’s Sherlock?” Maverick interrupted instead, startling Beau as he struggled to refocus. The Admiral ran a hand through his hair and Maverick could see it was shaking slightly, even hardened Cyclone was thrown off by this day. "Lieutenant Harrington,” Simpson paused, "he was able to get away without the worst of it. Bumps and bruises mostly, possible whiplash from the ejection." He looked down at his hands. "I'm concerned about him psychologically though.”

Pete could only nod, picturing his young pilot in question at a table scribbling little notes and observations in his damn note pad. Mav found he already missed him. Pete tried to swallow his guilt but it choked him, “he- uh,” Mav tried again, “Benny’s been through a lot."

"He was the one who had to try to put the fire out on Jones after they both landed. Rescue said he was frantic when they arrived, crying and-" the other man trailed off shaking his head, "I don't know what we will get from him in the future either."

The guilt felt suffocating in Pete's throat. He closed his eyes, thinking of the pilot duo that would most likely never grace the skies again, "I destroyed two pilots today" he whispered only for himself but Admiral Simpson heard as well. The other man looked pained as he turned to his Captain. "Pete" he shook his head, "you're a brilliant pilot and the Navy owes you so much-"

"But my time is up" Maverick finished, meeting his superior's eyes, "I ruined two pilots-"

"Three."

The world had already seemed too close to stopping before but now Pete was sure it had ceased to spin on its axis. His mind went blank, unable to connect the words from his CO's mouth into any form of understanding, "W-Who?" he asked dumbly.

Beau's face split into deep concern, his brow furrowed with it. "Scafer" he explained carefully, too cautious for the normal antagonist in Maverick's life, "he's turned in his wings."

"What?" the shock bled from his voice like a wound, "He- Was he hurt?" Pete racked his brain, knowing that he saw Flash land safely but so he lacked any confidence in himself at the moment that he couldn't be sure. "I thought he landed okay?"

"He did" and now it was devastation on Simpson's features. The Admiral seemed overwhelmed and at his wits end almost as bad as Maverick, "he's turned in his wings. Thinks it's his fault" the man knew he was walking on shaky ground and proceeded with caution, "I was able to debrief him a little before I sent him to medical to be treated for shock. He explained his actions up in the air."

"So he told you everything?" Pete focused on keeping his voice tempered.

"About the maneuver you pulled and his reaction? Yes."

Mav nodded, emotion welling in his throat but he stubbornly swallowed it down, "And ah- will there be an inquiry?"

Beau stared the other man down, watching the unease radiate off him in waves. He knew Pete for about twenty years in total and never had he ever seen the other man's composure so clearly lost. He had heard about the Maverick that appeared after Goose's death, the scared and timid pilot that couldn't engage but this was different. That Maverick lacked confidence, this Maverick , the one sitting on the uncomfortable hospital chair with his legs bouncing up and down and his shoulders hunched, this Maverick lacked his very soul. This wasn't the Ace pilot that Cyclone was used to, this was a broken has-been who would never find his glory again. "A committee will meet to go over what happened, you'll have to appear-"

"Will you be on it?"

Beau wished he could have said yes, despite their initial misgivings he still respected the Captain, but he had been excused almost immediately from Admiral Cain for being too close to the incident, "No, Bates and I were both excused."

Maverick gave a heavy sigh, "I'll be forced to retire" he deduced emotionlessly.

"Most likely." Cyclone admitted and he could see the appreciation on Maverick's face for his honesty. He opened his mouth to say more but a nurse walked forward drawing both of their attentions. "Excuse me but Admiral Simpson?"

He moved to stand, "Yes?"

"Lieutenant Jones is out of surgery," she informed professionally, "If you follow me I can take you to Doctor Mason, he can debrief you on the Lieutenant's condition."

"Thank you" and Simpson moved to stand. He took three steps down the hallway before turning to Captain Mitchell one more time. Straightening his posture he met the Captain with a sharp salute, "it's been a honor Captain."

Maverick stood as well, saluting back, "Thank you Sir." He watched Beau offer a hand out and he took it like a lifeline and shook promptly. "For what it's worth" Cyclone told him, "I'm sorry. We might not have seen eye to eye on a lot of things but I meant what I said when I told you the Navy owed you for your years of service."

Pete struggled to contain his emotions, "T-Thank you Sir.”

"I'll have someone send you an update on the conditions of Jones and Harrington" and then the Admiral left, off to fulfill his duties like the distinguished officer he was. Maverick stayed behind, lost like he's never known before, facing a future that had never seemed more uncertain or more dark.

How is everyone doing? Hate me yet? Thrown this story out the window? 

[flameleadsarc]

RELATIONSHIPS  — TALK ABOUT THE MUSE

NAME: Roy Owen Mustang

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Pansexual demiromantic. What that means is Roy generally physically attracted to people of all genders. However, when it comes to romantic attraction, he needs that emotional bond to happen before anything else.

PREFERRED PET NAMES: He doesn’t have many preferences. If he’s in public with his partner, he does prefer pet names that are for public consumption. Taking the time to give him a pet name, even if it’s a common or generic one, makes him smile, though, because it shows his partner’s thinking of him. As for using pet names for his partner, it’ll take him a while to start using them considering he needs to warm up to using first names.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Verse dependent, and this blog is multiship.

FAVOURITE CANON SHIP: I am most certainly a Royai shipper, and it’s one of my ride or die ships of all time. Hyuroi is also one of my big ships, even if it’s one-sided or unrequited. Then, you have me shipping Roy with Olivier, Alex, Jean, Kain, Kimblee, and more (characters who are not minors).

FAVOURITE NON-CANON SHIP: All of them, okay? I love how all of them have developed over time. Don’t ask me to pick just one.

OPINION ON TRUE LOVE: It’s definitely real. Will it happen for him? He’s not sure. He has a country to fix.

OPINION ON LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT: Only in books and films.

HOW ROMANTIC ARE THEY?: Oh, he can be incredibly romantic once he’s in a relationship with someone. It’s often in the small ways. He’ll bring them food, remember how they like their tea, do the dishes, or do other chores his partner struggles with. Then, it’s in the way he holds their hand---if they like that sort of thing---or the casual compliments he peppers into conversations. Roy loves to dote on his partner, and he wants to show the world that he loves them.

IDEAL PHYSICAL TRAITS: If it’s clear the other person takes care of themself, or at least tries to, then that’s all Roy can ask for. Yes, he likes some muscle, but it’s not necessary. He likes people of all shapes and sizes. The ability to deadlift him, though, will earn some bonus points.

IDEAL PERSONALITY TRAITS: This is where he gets a little pickier. Ideally, Roy wants someone who cares about something outside of themself, someone with drive, someone he can talk to, and someone who can stand up to him. Most importantly, though, he wants someone who’s kind. Look at everyone on his team. Every single person there has those traits in some way, shape, or form. Roy doesn’t settle for less in a professional capacity, so he definitely won’t when it comes to a personal relationship. We hope.

UNATTRACTIVE PHYSICAL TRAITS: Lack of personal hygiene is a big turn-off for him. He understands if it’s due to financial or health struggles, though.

This isn’t quite an unattractive physical trait, but Roy will find it harder to date someone if they eat meat. It has nothing to do with who they are as a person, and he will try to get past it for them.

UNATTRACTIVE PERSONALITY TRAITS: Again, this is where he gets picky. If a person is needlessly cruel or violent to others, Roy won’t hesitate to call them out on it, intervene, and then walk away. High levels of selfishness are also a turnoff for him. Lack of a sense of humor will keep him away, but he might bear with it longer considering his work atmosphere. Belittle him? He’ll tolerate it for a while, but he won’t stand for any belittling of members of his team or the Elric brothers.

IDEAL DATE: It depends on the person! Roy likes to cater dates specific to the person he’s spending time with. Ideally, though, the location is secluded or otherwise exclusive. He doesn’t want many interruptions since he wants to focus as much attention as possible on his partner.

DO THEY HAVE A TYPE?: He doesn’t seem to have a type, no.

AVERAGE RELATIONSHIP LENGTH: A few weeks to a few months. Though, these days, they’re more likely to last a couple weeks at most. He has to keep that womanizer persona intact.

PREFERRED NON-SEXUAL INTIMACY: The kind where the two of them can just coexist without saying a word. Being comfortable with quiet, and letting each person have their independence, is something he really enjoys. He also loves being physically close and cuddling, but that goes in line with just coexisting to him.

COMMITMENT LEVEL: If the relationship is just for fun, or no strings attached, he won’t be as committed. That’s something he will be upfront about with his partner. But, when Roy commits to something long-term and serious, he commits himself completely. His partner will become a central focus in his life.

OPINION OF PUBLIC AFFECTION: It depends on the kind of relationship it is and who it’s with. If he has to keep his relationship private for the sake of safety (i.e. careers, public image, etc), he won’t partake in public affection. That isn’t to say he dislikes it. In fact, he actually loves hand holding and putting an arm around his partner. He’s not one for doing more than short kisses in public, though. Anything too risque, and he’ll be unhappy.

PAST RELATIONSHIPS?: Many. But, again, they never lasted that long, and that was always purposeful on his part.

[curligurl0896]

So getting to read @thejakeformerlyknownasprince 's FMA AU reminded me of my own ideas for a FMA/Animorphs fic. A crossover, in this case, a Megamorphs of sorts (complete with rotating narration) because I really want an excuse to have the Animorphs interact with the characters of the FMA universe. I don't have enough ideas worked out to confidently write a whole fanfic yet, so I think I'll just share some of my ideas so that at least they don't stay inside my head forever like the vast majority of ideas that I either never finish enough to post it or just never get around to at all, especially when my brain is always generating new plot bunnies instead of focusing on developing the ones I already have, it's so distracting lol

(Also maybe y'all could give some suggestions if you wanna, I'd definitely appreciate it lol)

Anyway, here it is:

First off, the answer as to how exactly the Animorphs end up in the FMA universe: I was kicking around a few ideas for this, and was originally thinking something along the lines of like, a freak accident that somehow results in them ending up in front of the Gate of Truth, but I think a better idea would be for an alchemist (or perhaps even several alchemists) to end up in the Aniverse, get Yeerkified, and the Yeerk (or Yeerks, as it may be), intrigued by the memories and knowledge of an alternate Earth where you can manipulate matter and shape it according to your will with nothing more than a well drawn chalk circle (or even less than that if you've been through the Gate, as the Yeerk(s) will eventually discover), lured in by the idea of a legendary object that supposedly can be used to circumvent a pesky little law known as Equivalent Exchange, decides to pull something of a "Tom's Yeerk and his Yeerk buddies a la book 52" deciding to start their own colony in the FMAverse where they won't have to answer to the Council of Thirteen or the Visserarchy (well, at least the ones higher ranked than the Yeerk in charge, who, I imagine, would have to be a Sub-Visser at the very least to have the power to arrange all this) in addition to being able to use alchemy, which, much like the morphing power, can be used for a massive variety of things, ranging from merely convenient to pretty damn useful in a pinch to OP as fuck to even just downright terrifying.

It takes a lot of time and meticulous planning, of course, as they have to find a way to transport the Yeerks, their ship, and all the other stuff they'll need to thrive over there through the Gate and into the FMAverse-- all while in a universe where alchemy flat out doesn't work. The Yeerks have to figure out how to get around that issue, and it takes at least a year of research and using their new hosts' alchemical knowledge to work out a solution, but they work it out, and soon enough they get everything set up and ready to go. At some point, the Chee find out about this secret unknown project going on, inform the Animorphs about it, and Jake decides that they should at least check it out on the off chance that it's something big.

That's where the story officially starts: with our team of traumatized teenage shapeshifters at the location where this thing is being set up (haven't figured out the where yet). They've spent the past several days spying on these Yeerks, but still aren't sure what exactly is going on-- they keep talking about opening a gate-- and aren't sure if it's worth it. Marco's convinced the whole thing is ridiculous, especially after overhearing a human Controller mention something about a "Philosopher's Stone" ("What is this, Harry Potter? Are they gonna wave wooden sticks around and yell in Latin?") . Rachel is bored at this point, and just wants to kick ass and call it a day-- they were probably up to no good anyway. Cassie isn't particularly keen on the asskicking part, but she's been having a bad feeling about all this that she can't shake, and Tobias agrees that something fishy is going on and says they should wait a few days-- after all, from what they've gleaned, whatever plans these Yeerks had would be set in motion very soon. Ax, being Ax, declares as usual that he'll just go along with whatever Prince Jake orders, though when Jake presses him about his opinion, he just says he isn't sure what to make of it. In the end, they keep it up for a couple more days, and sure enough, the time comes for the Yeerks to "open the gate", whatever that means.

After all the time they'd spent spying on the Yeerks, it is conveniently now, when the Yeerks are about to do their thing, that they're discovered. It quickly turns into a fight, and the Animorphs attempt to bail as they're soon overwhelmed-- and then the Gate is opened.

None of them had any idea what to expect next. They certainly weren't expecting the blue lightning that erupted around them in a massive circle, seeming to originate from the curving lines that had been so painstakingly carved into the floor. They aren't expecting the atmosphere to turn dark and purple and creepy, or for a giant grey eye to suddenly appear beneath them, or for wavy black tentacle arms to come out of that eye. And they definitely were NOT expecting to abruptly find themselves in the white void of Zerospace.

Only they aren't in Z-space, exactly. Surrounded by it, sure, but somehow they stand there, as if on solid ground, surrounded by the eerie blankness that had once nearly suffocated them to death.

Each Animorph is utterly alone, with nothing and no one else in sight. That is, until they hear a voice, one that sounds like several voices speaking in unison, and suddenly they see a figure-- or, more accurately, an outline of a figure, with only shadows to mark where the figure ended and the void began. The figure is shaped like a human in all but Ax and Tobias's case: the figure Ax sees is shaped like an Andalite, and Tobias's version takes the form of a bird.

Truth gives the whole "I am God, I am the world, and I am also you" speech, then informs them they can't pass through the Gate without payment. Suddenly, there's a huge gateway where previously there was nothing. Truth is unconcerned with the fact that these "A-ni-morphs" have zero clue what's going on-- it simply takes the required toll and sends them on their way.

Except the toll is literal body parts-- which, even then, isn't usually a big deal for an Animorph, but in this case it absolutely is a big deal, because, as they'll soon discover, there's no way they're going to just replace their lost limbs through morphing. It's expressly forbidden for one to simply have nice things in this universe; in other words, Truth isn't letting them off the hook that easily.

The discovery that they're not able to replace their lost body parts through morphing is especially horrifying to Ax, because, well, y'know... book 40. The one that every Ax fan, and really anyone who otherwise genuinely enjoys Ax's character, would like to pretend never fucking happened.

In fact, given Truth's precedent for irony when extracting payment from people who've opened/been through the Gate in the series, I have no doubt in my mind that Ax would end up suffering the exact same fate as Mertil. Andalites, after all, place high value on their tail blades, especially the warriors; it's their number one go-to weapon when shit hits the fan. Ax himself is such a warrior, in fact it's a huge part of who he is as a person. Needless to say I think yeeting Ax's tail blade would be the exact kind of twisted irony that Truth would employ.

He gets over himself eventually-- well, sort of. However, it takes him a long time to truly come to terms with it-- instead of accepting that the attitudes he'd been taught his whole life regarding those who aren't fully able-bodied are actually shit, I feel like he'd be more likely to double down on them, internalizing them, and actually go into full-on self loathing as a result.

He holds his metaphorical tongue, though, upon seeing that Tobias has suffered a payment that is arguably far more cruelly ironic-- given that Tobias is a bird, given that his initial attraction to the morph that eventually became his default body came from the sense of freedom and escapism only provided through flying, I think it's fairly obvious what Truth would take: his wings.

As for the others: Rachel has lost her arm (for basically the same reason Ed did), Cassie loses her hands (which she uses to, you know, help injured animals and stuff), and as for Jake... well, it was a bit of a struggle, the best I could come up with is the idea of him going blind much like Mustang did after being forced to open the Gate (though maybe not for the same reason, though... idk. If anyone has any better suggestions, please let me know lol, I couldn't think of any solid ideas for what body part would be ironic for Jake to lose). Marco is the only one who doesn't lose any outwardly visible body parts-- what he loses is his voice.

At some point, they are discovered, taken into custody by the Amestrian military, and eventually they end up in Colonel Mustang's office. Mustang listens to their story with a massive dose of skepticism. He isn't sure what to make of these bizarre barefoot children, nor their claims of fighting bodysnatching slugs from outer space by turning into animals, nor their wingless pet hawk, nor... well, he could only assume the other creature was some sort of chimera, although he had zero clue what animals could have possibly been used to make something with blue fur and extra eyes.

At this point, they're about to do a morphing demonstration to prove to the Colonel that they aren't completely batshit, when suddenly the door is slammed open, and a teenage boy with blond hair and sharp golden eyes comes sauntering in, accompanied by a hulking giant covered head to toe in a suit of armor.

The boy immediately starts shouting at Mustang, calling him a bastard and accusing him of wasting his time, to which Mustang responds by merely rolling his eyes and sighing, as if this sort of thing happens all the time (spoiler alert: it does). After a moment, the kid stops as he takes notice of the other kids standing in the room.

"So," he says, calmly, as if he wasn't yelling at his superior just a moment ago, "what's the deal with these fuckers?"

The casual use of the kind of language that would have surely landed them in hot water back home was quite shocking, but they don't comment on it. Instead, Rachel says, in a voice sweet as honey, "Oh, look, Marco. He's just as short as you are."

Before Marco could turn to glare daggers at her (come on, it wasn't like he could argue back in that moment), the boy goes absolutely ballistic, and the armored guy has to physically restrain him as he screams obscenities at Rachel ("The fuck did you just call me, you freakishly oversized bitch? I'll show you too-fucking-short-to-fucking-sit-at-the-fucking-table-without-a-fucking-booster-seat! Call me short one more fucking time, I fucking dare you to! You think I give a shit that you're a girl? I'll fuck that pretty face of yours right up, just you fucking wait--")

"Brother!" The armored guy cries. "Calm down!" Then, to the Animorphs: "I'm sorry about my brother's behavior. He's, um, a bit sensitive about his height."

"A bit sensitive" is the understatement of the century, but none of the Animorphs call him out on it. They're too dumbfounded by the sound of his voice, which sounds sweet, innocent, and, despite his size, sounds like it belonged to a boy no more than nine or ten years old.

And that's where I'm going to leave it for now, since I've spent way too long on this post already. I have a few other ideas, but mostly in bits and pieces, not really any more comprehensive plot points beyond this point. Please do let me know what you think!

[floorune]

1 2 6 8 11 for the FMA ask!!

HOLDS UR FACE HI HOON I LOVE U

this got kinda long since i talk a lot! so i’m gonna put the rest under the cut 😅

2. All time favorite character? Why?

GREED MY LITTLE MEOW MEOW MY SILLY RABBIT THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE. he is very fun and sexy what can i say!! :) specifically Greed in his original form – Greedling is fine too and very fun and important for their character growth, but OG Greed...he is just Built Different. catch a glimpse of those deltoids and i start acting unwise 😔 🤙

(my other two faves are Alphonse and Mei Chang ❤️️💕 and honorary mention to Scar!)

1. Original or Brotherhood

I think by original they mean the 2003 anime right? I like both 03 and BH for different reasons but if I gotta pick I'd have to go with Brotherhood. Mei and the rest of the Xing crew are some of my favourite characters so I like that they actually y'know, exist in BH 😂 unfortunately 03 also doesn't have Olivier, Miles, and the Briggs soldiers :(

Scar is ok in 03 but his parental/found family relationship with Mei in BH is so important to me and one of my favourite dynamics!!! 03 Greed is also less interesting to me and I find 03 Bradley family very boring..

again there's a lot of stuff I do like about 03 but ultimately many of my fave characters either just Don't Exist there or are written in a way that's no longer interesting to me V__V so Brotherhood it is!

6. Favorite homunculus? Why?

ok i guess this got eclipsed by Question #2 because clearly..Greed... though as far as BH goes, I also like Wrath and Pride, then followed by Lust and Envy (damn bro i'm practically just naming all of them here). but in 03 i like Lust the best bc she got all the development and character writing plus she is sexy :]

8. Favorite all time villain? Why?

not me struggling to remember any villains other than the homunculi lmao 😩 i also haven't revisited CoS, the OVAs, or any of the video games recently so i can't include those. i think i'll go with BH Wrath and Pride in that case! i love it when villains are a lil bit emo, the complicated flavour is good. also they're scawy :) every time Wrath shows up on screen me and my friends are like:

(except for my ossan-loving friends.. they start making eyes at the screen....😭)

11. Favorite member of Team Mustang?

RIZA MY BELOVED!!!! also Black Hayate MVP <3

[onelostgirl]

17. Not Your Miya

Atsumu Miya x (f) smau

- - -

Atsumu had to admit that lunch wasn’t horrible but it wasn’t amazing either. Hayami tried to make it seem normal having a ‘how you doing’ lunch thing but it only made things more awkward.

He had to stop himself several times from looking at his phone. He didn’t know what he waiting for but a small part of him denied that it had something to do with Y/N’s texts.

“You’d think all athletes were as nice as you guys but I think the Black Jackals were the best team I worked for.” Hayami explained as she went on and on about how she had been since they’d stopped dating. She had found a new job managing a baseball team not far from the city. Talked about how useful her experience was working with them and that she felt she was making progress with the players.

She didn’t mention her leaving, didn’t bring up how things had ended. It was almost like she was rewriting their breakup to something as less dramatic than it actually was.

Atsumu had a hard time keeping up with her. He’d always found talking to her to be fun but since everything happened he realized he might not have known her as much as he thought he did.

“Maybe we can catch a movie next week.” Hayami said in passing as Atsumu looked at his phone for the first time since they started lunch.

boss lady (1 missed call)

He had zoned out after seeing that notification.

Y/N had called him?

Was she okay?

It wasn’t like her to contact him if it wasn’t important.

Without thinking, he began calling her but was disappointed when he was greeted by her voicemail instead.

“So Tsu, a movie?”

Atsumu nodded without listening to her, “Sure yeh got ya.” He replied giving no thought to what he said or even noticing the grin on his ex’s face.

One day he would hear Omi tell him I told you so. And recommend he look into becoming more aware of reading between the lines.

Lunch had ended a bit ago but he found himself wondering the street for a bit. It was a day off, one well deserved, if he had to say so himself. Yet he was trying to fight the urge to go to the court. He didn’t know what excuse he could make, he knew that if he did Y/N would scold him about needing to dedicate more time to himself.

But for him being on the court was the only thing that made sense. He felt out of it whenever he was away too long and considered that she might have been right that he had a problem.

Which without much thought was- he didn’t have anything he liked doing except playing volleyball.

Despite being his twin, Osamu had other interests, most successfully making onigiri, but even growing up he dabbled in video games and even tried other sports out.

Atsumu however needed volleyball. It was the only thing that brought him to life yet gave him peace at the same time.

While in deep thought of what he should do, he then felt a tug on his jacket.

He instinctively looked beside him but noticed there wasn’t anyone there. It was then he felt another tug as he looked down in the direction of the pull.

A tiny hand was the first thing he saw, he followed that it to meet a tiny face.

“Mister, ya dropped this back there.” The voice said as Atsumu looked at the black haired kid behind him. He was maybe 6 but he couldn’t be sure, he wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to kids.

He usually saw them during events, fanmeets, and even some games. That however was the extent of his interaction with the minis.

He looked at what the boy was holding and realized it was a card Hayami had given to him. She had tried to tell him to look into new sports agencies and recommended the one she was currently working for.

He didn’t know what to say and declined her offer at first but she kept insisting it could help him in the long run.

That would mean leaving MSBY, the Black Jackals and all his teammates.

“Er’ thanks lil’ man.” He replied as he took the card and then realized that the kid was alone so thought to ask where his parents were.

“Hey where’s yer...” he began but was quickly cut off by a feminine yell.

“YUTO! I said wait!”

He turned following the voice and met the last person he’d thought to see.

-

“Listen boss kid, you can’t just keep going on your own.” Y/N said to Yuto holding onto his hand as they made their way down the street.

“Onee, I’m not a baby.” The little boy replied as Y/N looked down at him and tried to resist the eye roll.

This kid was almost six yet acted like an 18 year old.

“You’ll always be my baby~.” Y/N sang as she was greeted with an exaggerated sigh.

“Did you just?” She looked down to see him trying not to laugh but heard the giggles escape anyway.

He thought he was being funny.

In response, she tickled him a little and gave in when he started hugging her and saying he was sorry.

“Not so tough now are you little bear.” She pulled him into a hug which wasn’t welcomed until he knew she wouldn’t let go until he gave in.

It was a good day, spending time with her little monster after being so busy. She had to admit Yuto spending time at a daycare was good for him since he would be interacting with kids his own age but it was hard not having him around.

She remembered when she first started taking care of him after the accident. It was a sensitive time for both of them and she wanted it to pass quickly just so she could see that everything turned out okay.

Now fast forward two years and she wished she had that time back. Just so she could cherish it a bit more.

She has no clue how to take care of a mini human being and now she realized she did pretty good. Yuto was a bright kid, he was repsectful, intellectual, and had this shine about him.

On the down side though, he wanted to grow up too fast, loved to do things on his own, and could try asking for more help once in a while.

After having lunch and doing a little shopping she noticed Yuto staring at something in his hand.

“What do you got there Yu?” Y/N asked as he looked up to her.

“Onee, that yellow guy drop this, can we give it to him?”

“Awwh that’s sweet of you but remember what I said about picking things up.”

“Onee what if it’s special?”

“Okay, okay, we’ll give it to him just let me grab our things.” Y/N replied as she took the last of the bags into her hands.

She turned to check on Yuto but noticed he wasn’t beside her any longer. Eyes widening in surprise she looked up quickly just to catch the green dinosaur hoodie a few feet in front of her. She was going to catch this brat and possible smack him into tomorrow for leaving her behind.

She realized she was definitely out of shape when she felt her chest tightening, her insides twisting in pain, and the soreness beginning to grow in her legs and calves.

How the heck could he be so quick?

Finally, she zeroed in on him and saw he was handing something to a man in front of him.

Did he not understand her lectures about strangers?

He obviously gained that way too kind attitude from his mother. She always had to caution her when they were growing up that not everyone was a kind as she was and now it looked like she had to do the same for her nephew.

“YUTO! I said wait!” She shouted out as he looked back at her finally revealing the face of the stranger he had chased after.

This was definitely not someone she expected to see.

And the brown eyes that stared back at her in surprise proved that the feeling was mutual.

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Author’s note: hey everyone I want to apologize for last week’s break. I was so swamped with life’s daily struggles I couldn’t juggle writing. Thank you all for your patience. So we finally have Y/N private life collide with her work life. She tried had to keep them separate because she had many questions that were brought up things she didn’t want to deal with. We’ll soon see how everything will play out. Please stay tuned and thank you for all your patience, support, and encouragement. Sending all my love! Taglist is still open!

Taglist: @shadyjinyoung @roiana-mustang @z-i-t-t @koukamisblog @90s-belladonna @kimxbae @hamsterfan17 @atsunflower @huliannajace @iloveanime691 @rinnieee @lilacshouko @alyssasteaparty @nhaikyuu @crazyforleo @life-taken-by-hq-baby-liberos @lolaywrites @sunareclipse @jexiiann @semiathleticnerdykid @pharvhs

[fatecantstopme]

The Serpent Queen (FP Jones x Reader)

Summary: The reader in this story is named ‘Piper’, but feel free to insert your name when reading! Simple FP Jones One Shot. Don’t worry, she’s 26 (perfectly legal!)

Warnings: Smut, cursing

(GIF Credit to @mona-stay)

**************************

You were exhausted as you opened the door to your trailer and stumbled inside. It had been a horrendously long day and all you wanted to do was shower and crawl into bed. You peeled your leather jacket off and tossed it onto the couch. You continued removing articles of clothing while walking toward the bathroom, leaving the clothes where they fell. You were about to step into the shower when your phone buzzed. You walked out to the kitchen and picked it up to see who was calling. The name on the screen made your stomach do summersaults. You knew you couldn’t ignore it no matter how tired you were. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Pipes. I need you to come in.”

You sighed. “I’m exhausted, boss. Could it wait until the morning?”

The man’s voice was gentle, but firm. “It’s important. I need you to come in. I called in Mustang and Tall Boy too.”

You knew that meant that something big was going down...and you couldn’t say no to the King. “Alright. I’ll be there in 15.”

You hung up and sighed. You loved your life, but sometimes being the best really sucked. You decided to take a quick shower before getting dressed and heading down to the Wyrm.

After your shower, you threw on a pair of distressed black jeans, a white v-neck, and combat boots. You threw your leather jacket on as you headed out the door. You hopped on your bike, started the engine, and sped off in the direction of the White Wyrm. The trip only took about 5 minutes, but when you arrived, you noticed that Mustang’s and Tall Boy’s bikes were already parked out front. You parked and headed inside, your thoughts evenly split between wondering what this was about and focusing on keeping your shit together. The King always had a certain effect on you and with the events of the last few months, this was even more true. The last thing you needed was for Mustang or Tall Boy to realize how you felt about your leader. You took a deep breath and walked through the door.

“There she is!” A voice boomed.

You grinned. “Hey, Tall Boy.” You fist bumped the giant man and did the same to Mustang.

“Hey, Piper. Thanks for joining us.” You turned around to face the owner of the voice and felt your heart skip a beat. The man standing in front of you was absurdly attractive. The epitome of ‘tall, dark, and handsome’. His dark hair was tousled slightly, like he’d been running his hands through it, and his brown eyes were tired, but you could see the spark in them when he looked at you. He was wearing his typical uniform: fitted jeans, t-shirt under an unbuttoned flannel, combat boots, and of course, his Serpent jacket. It was the one thing that all of you had in common. Despite the layers, you could see the lean muscles of his strong body and you felt an intense desire to run your hands over his chest. You managed to keep your cool and shot your leader a smirk. “Anything for you, FP,” you said with a dramatic curtsey.

The other two men snickered and FP rolled his eyes. “Alright, people. We’ve got important business to discuss.” FP’s tone sobered the room. The three of you waited to hear what he had to say. 

“We’ve got a problem that needs to be taken care of...and the three of you are the best I’ve got.”

“What kind of problem, boss?” Tall Boy asked.

“The Snake Charmer kind.”

You flinched. It was no secret that you and Penny Peabody hated each other. Even hearing her nickname made your blood boil. “What’d the bitch do now?” you asked through gritted teeth.

FP raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t admonish you. “She’s blackmailing us. Either we run drugs for her, or she takes it out on my son.”

Your breath caught in your chest. The Serpent kids were your purview. You were only 26, so the teens related to you. You protected them and mentored them. As far as you were concerned, a threat against one of your kids was a threat against you personally. 

FP noticed your anger flaring. “Easy, Pipes,” he said gently.

“She threatened one of my kids. How did you think I was going to react?” You snapped.

“I know. He’s my son. How do you think I feel?” He snapped back.

You pursed your lips and stayed silent. After all, he had a point.

“So what are we gonna do?” Mustang asked, trying to ease the tension.

“Until further notice, the Serpents will be drug mules.”

Your face drained of color and you could sense the unease in the two men beside you. None of you said a word though, because FP’s voice had a tone of finality to it. When the King made a decree, there was no arguing it.

“So what do you need us to do?” You asked.

“The four of us are going to take the lead on this. I need you, Piper, to pick four kids to team up with us.”

You gasp audibly. “FP, you can’t put kids into this. It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s less suspicious to have an adult and a kid team than having two adult men.”

“But they’re just kids,” you protested.

His expression hardened. “They’re Serpents. Pair four kids with the four of us. That’s an order.”

You could feel the anger bubbling under your skin and it took all of your self-control to not fight back. What he just ordered you to do went against everything you believed in...and who you were as a person. 

Mustang could see your anger and he put a hand on your back. “Take a deep breath, P.” He gently rubbed your back as you took a couple deep breaths. You noticed FP’s entire body tense up as he watched you. His breathing was shaky and you knew he was struggling to keep his cool. You felt some satisfaction at seeing his discomfort, but you didn’t need him to flip out in front of witnesses. “Thanks, Mustang,” you said with a smile. He returned it and stepped back. 

You turned your attention back to FP. “I’ll ask for volunteers tomorrow. You’ll get your teams. Sir.” You added the ‘sir’ with a little more venom than was necessary.

He nodded, ignoring your attitude. “Good. Then you’re all dismissed.”

You glared at him before turning toward the exit. 

“Aww, come on, Pipes. You’re not gonna stay for a drink?” Tall Boy called after you.

“Sorry boys, not tonight. I’m exhausted.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow, then.”

You left with a wave and climbed onto your bike. The ride home was quick and you couldn’t wait to crawl into your bed. You were hurt and angry, which had pushed your exhaustion to the side. You changed into comfy clothes and sat on your bed. You were thinking about what had transpired tonight, as well as the events that had occurred over the past year. 

It had been about 10 months ago when everything blew the hell up. FP Jones had gone to prison for the murder of Jason Blossom. When you’d heard the news, you’d been shocked. There was no way that FP would hurt a kid, let alone murder one. You got the sense that Tall Boy knew more than he was letting on, but he wouldn’t tell you anything. So you went directly to the source. Seeing FP shuffle in in an orange jumpsuit and cuffs broke your heart. His face lit up in surprise when he saw you sitting on the other side of the glass. From that moment on, something had changed between the two of you. You visited him every week and worked with Jughead to try and get him free. 

The day that FP got out of prison was one of the happiest you’d ever experienced. That night, he’d knocked on your door in the middle of the night because he couldn’t sleep. You sat on the couch and he laid down with his head in your lap. The two of you had talked for hours and you’d gently run your fingers through his hair. Eventually, you both fell asleep and when you woke up, you were surprised to see him still there...cooking you breakfast. That day began a growing relationship between you and the Serpent King. You’d been together for the past four months, but no one knew. Not because FP wanted to keep it a secret, but because you did. You didn’t want other Serpents to think you were sleeping with the boss to get special treatment or some bullshit. And you certainly didn’t want to upset Jughead in any way. So you asked him to keep it a secret and he agreed. He’d asked you just last week if he could officially announce it, but you were too nervous. He respected you enough to honor your wishes. 

You sighed audibly. The memories of the past few months normally made you happy...but right now, all you could think about was how foolish you’d been to get involved with the older man. You’d developed real feelings for him and you thought he’d felt the same. Tonight’s events, however, made you question that. His orders showed a lack of respect for your morals...a lack of respect for you. Maybe it shouldn't bother you so much, after all those kids had voluntarily joined a gang. But they were still kids. And the Serpents weren’t that kind of gang. They looked out for their own; protected them. Now they were going to run drugs and force the kids to participate. It was just wrong.

You were jostled from your thoughts by a knock at your door. When you opened the door, you were surprised to find a solemn-faced FP standing on the steps. “FP, I don’t really want to see you right now.”

His frown deepened. “Pipes, can we please just talk?”

You looked him over and noticed that he looked older and more weary. This whole thing was clearly weighing on him, and it lowered your resolve. You simply stood back, allowing him to enter. He sat on the end of the couch and you sat on the other, pulling your legs up and turning to face him. You sat in silence for a few minutes before he finally spoke. “You’re upset with me.”

“Perceptive.”

He looked over at you. “It had to be this way, Piper. It’s the safest option for all of us.”

You just stared at him, waiting for him to go on. When he remained silent, you spoke up, “So that’s it? You’re not here to apologize?”

He furrowed his brow. “No offense, Piper, but I’m the King. I have nothing to apologize for.”

Your eyes widened in hurt and surprise. You blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling. “Then you can leave.” You stood up and gestured towards the door.

He looked up at you in confusion. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“FP, if you don’t understand why I’m upset, then this conversation is over. Now, please leave.” So I can cry in peace, you added silently. 

He stood up and looked at you sadly. “Did I just screw this up?”

“Honestly, FP, I don’t know.”

He winced as if you’d slapped him and he turned and walked out without another word. 

You collapsed onto the floor with your back against the couch and let the tears fall.

***FP’s POV***

I stomped into my trailer and slammed the door. What the hell have I done? I run my fingers through my hair and sigh. I sit down on the couch with a thud. I am such an idiot. I finally have a great relationship with an amazing woman and I let my ego fuck it up. I put my face in my hands and shake my head. I tell myself that it had to be done, that this was a good plan, but the words feel hollow.

“Dad? Are you okay?” Jughead tentatively steps out of his room. I can see the worry on his face and I want to reassure him, but I can’t bring myself to do it. 

“Not really, Jug.”

He came into the living room and sat in the chair across from me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s not something I should be discussing with my son.”

“Come on, Dad. Who else are you going to talk to?” He gestured around to the empty room.

The kid had a point, as much as I hated to admit it. “I messed up. I made a decision and I hurt someone that I care about.”

“One of the guys?”

I shook my head. “I, uh, haven’t been completely honest with you, Jughead. I’ve been seeing someone. She wanted to keep it a secret--”

“Piper?” he asked with a small smile.

I looked up at him in surprise. “You know?”

He laughed. “Of course I know! I’m not an idiot, Dad. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

I can feel my face heat up. I’d tried to keep it professional around her, but she made me feel things that I never thought I’d feel again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I get it. Some people might judge.”

I simply nodded.

“So what did you do?

I sigh and fill him in on the events of the evening. Jughead was quiet for a few minutes after I’d finished. I knew he had a lot to work through...especially since this whole business with Penny started with him. “This is my fault,” he began.

“No, Jug, it’s not, okay? I’m taking care of it, so don’t worry about that part.”

“By turning the Serpents into drug mules? Dad, that’s not who we are.”

“You think I don’t know that, kid? I hate this as much as you do, but it’s the only option.”

“But sending kids to do it? Come on, Dad. You’re telling me that you can’t see why Piper is upset?”

“It’s a good plan,” I say defensively.

“That may be true, but think about it from her perspective. Piper loves us like we’re her younger siblings. She would die to protect a Serpent kid without a second thought. But you’re forcing her to do something that puts those very kids in danger. It goes against who she is a person. Hell, you ordered her to do it. Imagine how that would feel.”

I hung my head, realizing that my son was right. “Shit,” I mumbled. 

“Dad?”

I looked up at him.

“Do you love her?”

I froze. The word ‘love’ always made me nervous. I hated using it and I hated hearing it. But Piper was different...everything about her was different. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine living the rest of my life without Piper. I realized with a pang that I couldn’t do it. Losing her might very well be the death of me. I made eye contact with my son and said softly, “With all my heart.”

He smiled. “Then you have to get her back. You might want to start with an apology.”

I nodded, knowing he was right. “When the hell did you get to be so wise?”

He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “I was born this way.”

I rolled my eyes and stood up. “Go back to bed, oh wise one.”

Jughead smiled and headed back to his room.

“Hey, Jug.” He turned back around to look at me. “Thanks.”

He nodded. “Anytime, Dad.”

I changed my clothes and collapsed on my bed. The weight of the day exhausted me. My heart ached, but I knew that Piper would need time before she’d see me again. I hoped that I could see her before tomorrow’s meeting so we could clear the air. I fell asleep thinking about what I was going to say to get my girl back.

***Your POV***

You’d fallen asleep after crying it out for a little while. You felt no better today and your eyes were red and puffy. You knew you’d need to try and remedy that before heading to the Wyrm. You didn’t want people to know that you’d been crying, least of all FP. You took a long, hot shower, then put a face mask on and some under eye masks too. You laid on your bed, naked, and tried to relax your mind. After 20 minutes, you got up and washed your face. You smiled when you saw that your skin wasn’t blotchy and your eyes weren’t puffy. They were still a little red, but that was as good as it was gonna get. You took your time getting ready...you were in no hurry to see FP. Hell, if you were a different person, you would have made up some excuse to not go today. But you weren’t a quitter, so you pulled yourself together and headed to the Wyrm. 

When you walked into the bar, you were surprised by how crowded it was. It was only 9:30am on a Saturday. One of your kids was the first to notice you enter. “Hey, Piper!”

“Hey, Sweet Pea,” you said with a smile. “What are y'all doing here here so early on a Saturday?”

Sweet Pea shrugged. “The boss texted us to come in.”

You hadn’t gotten that message, but maybe it was because you were already planning on coming in. You perched yourself on the barstool between Sweet Pea and Fangs. “I wonder what this is about,” you muttered.

“No one seems to have any idea,” Fangs replied.

A loud wolf whistle brought everyone’s attention to the other side of the room. FP was standing up on the stage so that everyone could see and hear him. Seeing him sent a shockwave of emotions through your body...not all of them good. You couldn’t believe that he’d called a meeting without including you. You were wondering what the hell he was gonna say when he began to speak.

“Sorry for calling you all in so early on a Saturday.” Laughter and boos spilled out around the room. “But what I have to say is so important that it couldn’t wait.” He took a deep breath. “The Serpents are going to have to do something that I’m really not happy about, but it has to be done in order to protect our youngest members. I met with three of our best yesterday to discuss our next moves. I made a decision during that meeting that I have now come to regret. I neglected to take other people’s opinions into account and for that, I am truly sorry. So today, I am announcing my new decision. A few of us will have to risk everything for the good of this family. So, as of today, myself, Tall Boy, Mustang, and Levi will become drug runners for Penny Peabody.”

His voice was drowned out by angry shouts from almost every person in the room. You simply sat in stunned silence, unable to form a single coherent thought. FP raised his voice, fighting for dominance. Finally, he whistled again and everyone fell silent. “I know you’re angry and so am I, but we don’t have a choice. She threatened some of our youngest Serpents and I will not stand for that. So we’re going to do what she wants, even if it costs us.” 

FP scanned the room until his eyes found you. “There’s a person here that means the world to me...and I hurt her in ways I didn’t truly understand until now. And for that, I am incredibly sorry. I’m going to do everything I can to make it right...no matter how long it takes.” The room stood in stunned silence. FP had just admitted that he loved a woman in this room and publicly apologized for hurting her.

Your whole body was frozen. His words hit you deep and spurred something inside of you. You stood up and looked your King in the eyes. “In unity, there is strength,” you said, your voice strong and firm.

Everyone turned to look at you, but your eyes never left FP’s. Seconds passed, then the entire room responded in kind, “In unity, there is strength!”

FP nodded and jumped off the stage, effectively ending the meeting. Everyone started chatting and a voice behind you said, “Holy shit. He was talking about you.” You turned to see Toni Topaz staring at you in shock. You nodded slowly, “Yes...he was.”

The rest of the group that surrounded you gasped audibly and started asking all kinds of questions. A deep voice from behind saved you from having to answer any of them. “Do you kids mind if I steal Piper for a while?” FP asked.

A chorus of “yeahs” and “go aheads” resounded. You rolled your eyes at their expressions and followed the King upstairs to his office. The moment he closed the door, you spoke, “Well that was very public.”

He blushed. “I’m so sorry, Pipes. For all of it. I didn’t realize what I’d done until I talked it over with Jughead.” 

Your eyes widened. “You told Jughead?!”

He shrugged. “He already knew. All I did was confirm it. He said--and I quote-- ‘I’ve seen the way you look at her.’”

You were quiet for a moment. “Was he okay with it?”

“More than okay. He wanted me to fix things with you.”

Now it was your turn to blush. “I can see that that emboldened you.”

“Maybe a little bit.” He smiled. “Which is also why I changed the plan. It’s more dangerous, but you were right. We can’t do that to the kids.”

“I’m glad that you agree, but why take me out of it?”

“To protect you. I realized last night that I can’t bear to lose you.”

You looked at him affectionately. “FP...”

“Let me finish or I’ll never get this out.” You nod and he continues. “You have changed my life, Pipes. You make it better in every possible way...and you make me better. How can I not love you? I meant what I said earlier, you mean the world to me. It scares the shit out of me, but I love you, Piper Coronado. I love you with all my heart.”

You stood there frozen in shock. FP wasn’t a particularly open man when it came to his feelings and it was well known how he felt about the ‘L word’, so his revelation had you reeling. 

“Pipes...please, say something.”

You realized you’d been silent for too long. “I’m sorry. I’m just shocked.”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I --”

“Shut up,” you say, cutting him off. You close the space between you and pull his face down to yours, your lips crashing together. After a few moments, you pull away breathless. You look up at him and say softly, “I love you, too, FP Jones. I always have.”

His face lit up and he grinned. He grabbed you and pulled you into him, kissing you passionately. He gripped your thighs and pulled you up so your legs were wrapped around his waist. He carried you over to the desk and sat you on top of it, clearing everything off with a sweep of his arm. Everything crashed to the ground and you winced. “FP! They’ll hear us downstairs.”

He grinned. “Don’t worry, baby. It’s sound-proofed.”

You returned his grin and pulled him closer with your legs. “Well in that case...” You tugged at the bottom hem of his shirt and he got the message and pulled it off over his head. You reached for him and he leaned back in to kiss you. Your body reacted to his touch and you let out a soft moan as he trailed kisses down your neck. “Lose the jacket,�� he murmured against your neck. You wiggled your arms out of your jacket and tossed it on the floor. His hands immediately slid up under your shirt and you pulled it off over your head to give him better access. 

You could see the massive bulge through his jeans and you slowly ran your hand across it, sending a shiver up his spine. “Lose the pants, handsome.” He grinned and quickly yanked them off. You licked your lips and murmured, “Boxers too.”

“How is that fair? You’re almost fully dressed!” He protested.

You smiled and slid off the desk as you slowly unclasped your bra and tossed it to the side. FP watched your every move, the hunger in his eyes spurring you on. You turned around so your back was to him and slowly slid your jeans down your legs. You leaned forward, giving him a great view of your lace-covered ass. He let out a low groan and the instant your pants were out of the way, he was right up behind you, pressed against your back. He peppered kisses down your neck and shoulder while his hands explored your breasts. You let out a low moan and leaned back into him.

“Turn around, baby.”

You obliged, turning to face him. He pushes against you until you hit the desk. He gently slipped his hands under your ass and lifted you onto the desk. He immediately drops to his knees and spreads your legs wide. He nuzzles against the lace of your panties, causing you to gasp. He takes his time, gently kissing your inner thighs, sending sweet sensations through your body. The more he teased you, the more you needed him. “FP,” you groaned, “quit teasing me.”

“Do you not like it?” He asked softly.

“You know I do, but it’s cruel.”

He chuckled softly and grabbed your hips. “Lift up.” You did as you were told and he quickly slid the lace bits off your body and discarded them on the floor. He looked you over, his eyes filled with desire. “You’re so gorgeous, Piper.”

You smiled and beckoned him towards you. He leaned over you and planted a soft kiss on your lips before getting down on his knees again. He placed his hands on your inner thighs and slid his tongue between your folds. Your head fell back and you moaned as he began licking and sucking with fervor. You tanged your fingers in his hair and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to his mouth. Waves of pleasure radiated through your body and you felt the familiar knot tightening in your stomach. You lifted your hips to meet him and begged him not to stop. His grip on you tightened and he sped up, sliding two fingers inside of you, gently stroking your g-spot. Within seconds, an intense orgasm racked your body and you cried out in pleasure. FP rode the waves as your body bucked beneath, not stopping until you gently tugged on his hair. He lifted his head and looked at you with a grin. You pulled him up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips.

He pulled away and whispered, “I want you, baby.” You smiled and reached for him. He pulled you close and you wrapped your legs around his waist so that he could pick you up. He carried you to the couch and gently laid you down before crawling on top of you. He kissed you and you ran your hands down his hard body, appreciating the toned muscles. He let out a soft groan against your lips, clearly appreciating your touch. He began moving down your body, kissing your neck, nibbling at your collar bone, and gently licking at your nipples before leaning back and grabbing his cock. You bit your lip and lifted your hips slightly, indicating to him that you wanted him. He slowly rubbed his cock against your entrance and you moaned breathlessly. “I want you, FP,” you said. 

“How badly?”

“More than you can imagine. Give me what I want,” you demanded.

“As you wish, my Queen.” And with that, he slid inside of you, filling you up in ways only he could. 

You were surprised by his choice of words, but all thoughts quickly left your mind as he started to move. You moaned softly and dug your nails into his back. He leaned forward and nipped at your neck as he increased his pace. “Shit, Pipes. You feel so good,” he groaned. 

He shifted your body so that he hit your g-spot with each thrust. You gasped and clung to him as he began to pump faster, slamming into you, pleasuring you as only he could. “Fuck, FP. I’m so close.”

“Not yet, baby. You cum when I tell you to.”

You nod and he continues his glorious assault on your body. His movements become more erratic and his body tenses up. You know that he’s close too. Just when you think that you can’t take it anymore, he murmurs, “Cum for me baby.”

You feel your body completely give in to him and a second orgasm sends you into spasms of pleasure. You feel him spill into you, moaning loudly as your walls milk everything from his cock. Eventually, he slows and collapses on top of you. “That was incredible,” he whispers into your neck.

“You’re incredible,” you say back.

He kisses your neck and pulls himself to his feet. He starts to get dressed and you do the same. It dawns on you that you have something you need to ask him. “FP?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“What did you mean when you called me your Queen?”

He eyed you carefully. “I want you to be my Queen,” he said softly. “But only if that’s what you want.”

You smile at him and pull him in for a kiss. “Of course that’s what I want.”

He grins at you and takes your hand to lead you downstairs...he had another important announcement to share with the rest of the Serpents. 

[aquietwritingcorner]

Whumptober 2020 Day 25: I Think I’ll Just Collapse Right Here, Thanks—Disorientation/Blurred Vision/Ringing Ears Word Count: 1040 Author: Katie/Ally (aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl)   Rating: T Characters:  Riza Hawkeye, Team Mustang Summary: Riza’s not sure what happened, and is having a little trouble figuring it out. Notes:  bc why not?

 Disorientation

 Riza tried to pick herself up off the ground, but the world seemed to weave and tilt under her hands, and she fell back onto her side, hard. The world around her spun, and she clung to the grass under her, trying to will it to stop. What happened? She opened her eyes, but the world was a dizzying blur and she had to blink several times to even try to focus on it. It didn’t clear up completely, but it helped. Her ears, too, they were ringing, and she couldn’t make out any of the sounds around her over their loudness.

Riza shook her head, trying to clear some it, but all that did was make her even more dizzy. She had to hold still for another minute before she tried again to get up again. She managed to make it to her hands and knees, although she was listing to one side. She only grew more and more confused as she tried to look around.

There were… things… laying around. Big things. She should know their name, but she wasn’t able to bring it up right now. They were on fire, and that was bad. Being around these things on fire was bad. She needed to get away from them. They weren’t supposed to be here, they were supposed to be part of… of a building. Or something. And them being here and being on fire was bad, and she needed to get away.

She staggered to her feet, stumbling and nearly falling again. But after a couple of tries she managed to get herself upright. But… where did she go? The world was still blurry around her, and she still couldn’t hear anything but the ringing in her ears. She couldn’t tell which way she needed to go. She didn’t know which way would be safe. Her head was still spinning. She took a couple of unsteady steps in one direction, but on the third the world tilted again, spinning, and she went down. She struggled to her hands and knees again, trying to figure out what was going on.

Suddenly, there was a hand on her, and she jerked back, nearly toppling over. A pair of hands steadied her, and she looked up, blinking. It took her a minute to realize that it was Havoc that had her. He was trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t hear him, and she was struggling to try to read his lips. He seemed to stop talking to her, or at least his lips stopped moving, she thought, and then he was tugging her arm up over his shoulders and wrapping his arm around her waist.

Suddenly, he was pulling her up, and for a moment she didn’t have any idea what was going on. The world spun around her, and she felt his grip tightening on her, urging her to move, and she tried her best to comply. It was hard, though, when the world kept spinning, her ears kept ringing, and her sight was blurry. She tripped, falling, and Havoc had to slow down to try to help her back up. She tried to get her feet back under her, but she was having trouble figuring out what was where. There was another pair of hands on her, then, heaving her up, helping to carry her along with Havoc. She could feel the voice of the individual talking, through the vibrations of his chest, but she still couldn’t hear anything but ringing. She looked up, blinking at the new person. Breda. It was Breda, and he was helping Havoc to move her from wherever she was.

They moved much faster this way, which she supposed was good, but it wasn’t helping her be less disoriented. Finally, they stopped, her head spinning, and she felt herself being passed off to someone. She was sat down, and she closed her eyes, trying to stop the spinning world around her. She felt a hand on her shoulder, could tell that someone was in front of her, and opened her eyes again, having to take a moment to focus on the person.

Falman was kneeling in front of her, saying something to her, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Someone appeared at his side—Fuery, she figured out after a moment. He handed Falman something, gave her a smile, and then hurried off. Falman did… something. She should have known what he was doing, should have been able to track it better, but she couldn’t. She felt like the world was tilting again, and that ringing was getting really annoying. Hands were suddenly on her, and she realized that Fuery was holding her upright. Falman had some sort of supply in his hands… bandages. Was she hurt? She supposed that made sense.

The world was spinning, and she didn’t feel good. She closed her eyes again, letting them do whatever it was they were doing. She didn’t care what they were doing—she trusted them. She let them work for however long they needed to. Her ears were still ringing, and she still didn’t feel right when she felt a pair of hands on her face, a familiar pair of hands. She opened her eyes, blinking through the blurriness.

Roy. He was in front of her now, and he looked worried about her. He was saying something, but all she could hear was the ringing in her ears. He looked over his shoulder, saying something, but all she did was focus on the feeling of his hands on her face. He looked back at her, brushing her bangs back with one hand. His hands moved back to the sides of her face, and he looked at her very seriously, saying something that she still didn’t understand.

But there were other people there now, and he was turning her over to them. It took her a moment to realize that they were medical. That was fine. The world still spun around her. It was blurry and her ears were still ringing. But if Roy was trusting her to them, then she wasn’t going to fight it.

She closed her eyes, and let them work, the world around her fading away.

[queenwinry]

Quick Thinking

Pairing: Royai

Rating: K+

Words: 2065

Summary: Mere seconds away from being discovered by their mark on a stealth mission, Riza Hawkeye has to quickly come up with a way to not blow her and the colonel’s cover. Her solution is...less than ideal, though Roy’s certainly not going to complain. 

A/N: Hello friends! I know I’ve been MIA for a while (and just showing up with a random oneshot is more on brand than i’d like to admit) but I couldn’t resist eventually getting this idea down. I’ve been off and on writing for the last few months but nothing quite as steady. This idea attacked me and wouldn’t let me go, so here have some Royai nonsense for the start of your weekend :) (p.s. I miss everyone and hope yall are doing well <3) 

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Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye watched with a flash of annoyance as her superior rubbed his gloved hands together to abate the cold and cursed for the umpteenth time since they’d stationed themselves outside the secluded East City club. The colonel was being overly dramatic yet again and she was far from patient enough to deal with it by this point, also thoroughly chilled to the bone. 

She watched as Colonel Mustang blew out a puff of air, easily visible even at the late hour, before he nearly pouted. “You know, when I got promoted, I really thought I’d be done with these half-assed stealth missions.” 

Still trying to keep her eyes trained on the front doors of the swanky club for their target, Riza let out a sigh of her own. “You should consider it an honor that General Grumman only trusts you for these types of things.” She wasn’t sure whether she was even trying to be sarcastic or not, but, regardless, her superior took it as such. 

Letting out a scoff, he replied, “Yeah, great. Good to know that old coot has no one else in the entirety of Eastern HQ he trusts enough to stand outside in the freezing weather for hours doing nothing.” 

Riza resisted the urge to clench her fists and roll her eyes. She tightened the scarf around her neck before gripping the ties on her simple black coat, attempting to pull it even closer to her. Both her and Mustang were dressed in civilian clothes for this particular “mission”. She was grateful for that at least. Though the blue wool uniform was warm on most days, the flimsy military-issued black overcoat would not be nearly enough for this weather. “Colonel, if you keep complaining like that you’ll miss the target and then this will all be for nothing.” 

Another scoff. Riza was beginning to become quite irritated with the noise. “Then maybe Grumman himself will let me off the hook and come out here on his own time.” 

“Right, because that will do wonders for your reputation.” 

She listened in satisfaction as her superior grumbled at the accuracy of her statement and kept his mouth shut. They’d been on the hunt for this particular crime lord for a few weeks now. The conniving man and his lackeys had bested Roy’s team a few times already and General Grumman (along with all of Eastern HQ) was starting to get antsy. It wasn’t like the upstart colonel to fail this many times in a row. It was straining everyone’s patience and Mustang’s ego. Hence, why Grumman had sent the pair out on the front lines trying to find some sliver of information that would work to bring the crime lord in. 

Riza was a little wary of the plan, however, given the fact that their target knew the faces of the colonel and his team quite well by now. If they were accidentally spotted out here, it could mean serious trouble. The lieutenant absentmindedly huddled further into the shadows of the dark alley they had decided to hide in. 

It remained silent aside from the distant hum of the bustling East City nightclub and Mustang’s occasional expletives, but Riza took what she could get. She was as exhausted and cold as her superior, though she’d never admit it out loud. She hoped their target showed up sooner rather than later. 

Suddenly, a movement out of the corner of her eye had the trained sniper immediately on alert. When she turned her head and watched a seemingly hidden door open in the opposite wall from where they stood, her eyes nearly bugged out of her head and her heart sunk. 

How had she missed an exit right beside them? She nearly kicked herself for not investigating their hiding spot well enough. She’d thought the alley on the side of the club was the perfect place to stake out, but she realized with startling clarity as two figures (two distinctly familiar figures) stepped out of the doorway, that she had been dead wrong. 

In that moment, as Riza immediately recognized their crime lord target and one of his bodyguards walking not even five feet beside them, she realized that she had mere milliseconds to make a decision. Her superior was a few steps away, his back still turned and his mind still focusing on how annoyed he was. Their target hadn’t yet seen that they were there, but he inevitably would once he was fully out of the doorway. The lieutenant realized she didn’t even have enough time to grab her gun beneath her many layers, even though the last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene and waste another golden opportunity. 

In hindsight, the lieutenant would admit to herself that she really had no idea where the sudden thought had even come from. She was certain she had buried all such inclinations years ago, and nothing even resembling the terrifying emotion would ever come to the surface. But, as panic overtook her system in the mere second before the crime lord turned around and noticed The Flame Alchemist and Hawk’s Eye standing next to him, it was the only thing she could think of and the only thing she could’ve possibly acted on. 

With a very different kind of dread filling her stomach, Riza took a few quick steps over to her superior (her goddamn boss), grabbed his arm with desperation, spun him around, pushed him against the opposite alleyway wall and crashed her lips onto his. 

She could practically feel the shockwave rush through his body as she grappled for the lapels of his over coat and angled her head just a touch. She still had no idea why her best idea for a cover was two horny adults exchanging saliva outside a nightclub, but she figured it was probably the quickest she’d ever thought on her feet. 

Colonel Mustang was still frozen in place, his hands having come out to grip the sides of her arms (probably more in surprise than anything else). He wasn’t moving his mouth at all but she probably couldn’t blame him for that. At least he hadn’t immediately pushed her away. 

Riza waited in anticipation as the sound of the crime lord and his bodyguard taking a few steps, stopping once they noticed them, and then reacting filled her ears. A feeling of relief coursed through her body once she heard the footsteps stop, before the pair started chuckling, no doubt shaking their heads at the “couple” they stumbled upon in the throes of passion. 

Too focused on their target’s reaction, Riza barely even registered as her commanding officer finally got the memo, realizing they were not, in fact, all alone out here. His hands relaxed on her arms and his lips began to move in conjunction with her own. A strange, very foreign feeling began to emerge from the bottom of her stomach, but she ignored it in favor of keeping a listening ear on her surroundings. 

Either the crime lord or his bodyguard (Riza wasn’t really sure who, her mind starting to become regrettably foggy), scoffed and gave a simple, “Get a room,” before the pair both laughed and their footsteps retreated from the alley. 

Riza waited probably another full minute, again attempting to ignore the movements of Colonel Mustang as his hands meandered from her arms to her lower back, before she finally broke the kiss and immediately sneaked over to watch their target get in a nearby vehicle before he drove away. 

As she watched the car go, she let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding in and relaxed her entire body against the nearby wall. That had been far, far too close. While her method of quick thinking certainly brought on a whole new slew of problems, she was thankful they had at least dodged that theoretical bullet. 

Not really wanting to, given the uneasy feeling coursing through her,  Riza let her eyes drift back over to her superior. He was still leaned up against the wall, a stunned expression on his face. She swallowed down the flare of desire that appeared as she watched the colonel take a few unsteady breaths, trying to keep his chest from heaving. He looked as dazed as she felt. 

Riza gulped again when his dark eyes finally flitted back over to her. There were a thousand different emotions playing behind them. Shock. Confusion. And, dare she say it, a bit of desire as well. He opened and closed his gaping mouth a few times and looked to be struggling just to find the right words. She could only imagine how he was going to react, so she stepped forward and beat him to his inevitable questioning. 

“Sir, I sincerely apologize.” She had to work hard just to maintain eye contact. She could feel her cheeks heating and she was thankful the darkness would help shroud the outward signs of her embarrassment. She watched as Mustang’s shock began to fade slightly at her words, but he remained silent as she continued. “I-I didn’t know what else to do. It was my fault for not doing a thorough enough search of the alleyway and missing the other exit. I hope you’ll forgive my blatant insubordination.” 

A rather tense pause ensued as the colonel merely blinked in her direction and shook his head, seemingly still trying to wrap his mind around the interesting turn of events. Riza waited with bated breath before he must’ve come to some conclusion as his entire body relaxed and a sly smile emerged on his face. 

“Rest assured, Lieutenant, I’m not over here complaining.” His voice was hoarse and cracked which added a rather unfortunate huskiness that Riza did not need right now. 

“It’s fine,” he continued with that same breathlessness, the absurdity of everything seeming to dawn on him. “I was just...surprised, I guess. That’s good quick thinking though. We would’ve been in deep shit if he’d realized who we were.” 

Riza managed to scramble enough dignity to nod her head in agreement. 

Roy sighed again, though this one had nothing to do with his annoyance at his own superior. “Well, I guess that’s that, then. Let’s head home. I’m sure the general will want a full update in the morning.” 

At his sudden switch into business mode, Riza straightened up and followed his lead. “Yes, sir.” 

They began to walk down the alleyway in the direction he’d parked his car when Mustang suddenly stopped and turned back toward the lieutenant. She nearly let out a groan at the shit-eating grin that had emerged on his face. He leaned down closer to her and she resisted the temptation to take a whiff of his usual cologne. 

“I will say this, though.” Riza could only guess the next words out of his mouth. “I wouldn’t be opposed to more stealth missions after all, if that’s going to be your usual method of keeping our cover.” 

Riza’s entire guilty, embarrassed countenance fell immediately at his words, replaced with her usual annoyance at his antics. She supposed she should be glad he was using his cocky, womanizing facade to ease the tension of what had just happened. She knew deep down he was doing this for her sake, getting her to relax and realize that it didn’t need to be as big of a deal as she was making it out to be, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to punch him in the arm for the look on his face. 

She settled for rolling her eyes and heaving a put upon sigh. She walked past him without another word and gave a terse, “It’s late, sir. We should head home.” 

She wasn’t looking at him to see, but she could just picture the self-satisfied grin on his face. “Sure, sure,” he spoke, following after her toward the car. 

Riza vowed, as they silently walked back toward his car and made their way to their respective homes, that she would always do her best staking out and covering all her bases when they went on these types of missions. Her dignity could not possibly handle having to resort to such desperate measures again. 

She also vowed never to speak a word to anyone of the way her lips still tingled long after she’d gotten home. 

[canisfuria]

{ ♙ } out late at the bar || Accepting ;; @fiuehrer​ { ♙ }

           [ It isn’t often that sergeants and brigadier generals tend to mingle at the bar, even in the case of Brigadier General Mustang and his team. But every by and by, their boss and team leader decides to drop in for a belt with the gang. The odd thing about tonight is how it happens that they’re the only two left of their group at the counter. There isn’t much time until closing- an hour that Kain had grown intimately familiar with, as of late. He’d been perfectly content, as the rest of their team had tottered out, with finishing his drink on his own. Scotch... it makes his head feel heavy, and yet so much lighter...

                He’d assured Roy that he’d be alright getting home on his own, but the man claimed that he’d wanted to polish off his own drink; waste not, want not. So the two men sit quietly, peacefully, almost alone in the bar.

                When they start talking, the inebriation takes them to the oddest topics. Things that they certainly wouldn’t discuss while sober, but topics that both have clearly pondered often on their own; ]

      ❝ ‘What do I think of life’? ❞

                [ He repeats the question, words rolling leisurely off his tongue. Mustang’s always been a philosophical man. He doesn’t delve much at the office, but Kain has heard him talking to Hawkeye, or Hughes, or even Havoc about his visions for the future, all his qualms with his craft... It doesn’t seem like a heavy question to the sergeant. In fact, he feels as though Roy’s come to him with this question before- maybe not worded the same way- but his superior has seemed to admire his technician’s optimistic worldview. Maybe he’s just struggling to see it through their head-numbing, boozey daze; Fuery never used to be much of a drinker... ]

         ❝ Y’know... for a while there, I wasn’t sure what I thought of it. I thought... I thought             I had my purpose... I knew where I was, who I was... and then, in a blink of an             eye, the life I’d lived seemed to vanish. ❞

                [ His voice carries no specific emotion, but it slows in its thoughtfulness. ]

        ❝ Sir, I think that life is scary as hell... that living is the bravest thing a man can            do. N’ I think that there are people, the one’s who make it a little easier, a little            less scary a world to live in... I think that they’re the ones who’ve figured it out. ❞

                [ Kain doesn’t look at Roy when he says it. Yet, as he brings that scotch up to his lips, he hesitates, smiling against the rim of his glass. ]

[scentedbygunpowder]

🔮🧙‍♂️🎉

@dap-brown

Send in a symbol to find out what my muse’s results were and whether I think it’s accurate or not.

Send in 🔮 to see my muse’s Meyer-Briggs Result

Logistician ISTJ-A 74% Introverted (How we interact with our environment) 62% Observant (Where we direct our mental energy) 54 % Thinking (How we make decisions and cope with emotions) 85% Judging (Our approach to work, planning, and decision-making 60% Assertive (How confident we are in our abilities and decisions)

The Logistician personality type is thought to be the most abundant, making up around 13% of the population. Their defining characteristics of integrity, practical logic and tireless dedication to duty make Logisticians a vital core to many families, as well as organizations that uphold traditions, rules and standards, such as law offices, regulatory bodies and military. People with the Logistician personality type enjoy taking responsibility for their actions, and take pride in the work they do – when working towards a goal, Logisticians hold back none of their time and energy completing each relevant task with accuracy and patience.

Logisticians don’t make many assumptions, preferring instead to analyze their surroundings, check their facts and arrive at practical courses of action. Logistician personalities are no-nonsense, and when they’ve made a decision, they will relay the facts necessary to achieve their goal, expecting others to grasp the situation immediately and take action. Logisticians have little tolerance for indecisiveness, but lose patience even more quickly if their chosen course is challenged with impractical theories, especially if they ignore key details – if challenges becomes time-consuming debates, Logisticians can become noticeably angry as deadlines tick nearer.

When Logisticians say they are going to get something done, they do it, meeting their obligations no matter the personal cost, and they are baffled by people who don’t hold their own word in the same respect. Combining laziness and dishonesty is the quickest way to get on Logisticians’ bad side. Consequently, people with the Logistician personality type often prefer to work alone, or at least have their authority clearly established by hierarchy, where they can set and achieve their goals without debate or worry over other’s reliability.

Logisticians have sharp, fact-based minds, and prefer autonomy and self-sufficiency to reliance on someone or something. Dependency on others is often seen by Logisticians as a weakness, and their passion for duty, dependability and impeccable personal integrity forbid falling into such a trap.

This sense of personal integrity is core to Logisticians, and goes beyond their own minds – Logistician personalities adhere to established rules and guidelines regardless of cost, reporting their own mistakes and telling the truth even when the consequences for doing so could be disastrous. To Logisticians, honesty is far more important than emotional considerations, and their blunt approach leaves others with the false impression that Logisticians are cold, or even robotic. People with this type may struggle to express emotion or affection outwardly, but the suggestion that they don’t feel, or worse have no personality at all, is deeply hurtful.

Logisticians’ dedication is an excellent quality, allowing them to accomplish much, but it is also a core weakness that less scrupulous individuals take advantage of. Logisticians seek stability and security, considering it their duty to maintain a smooth operation, and they may find that their coworkers and significant others shift their responsibilities onto them, knowing that they will always take up the slack. Logisticians tend to keep their opinions to themselves and let the facts do the talking, but it can be a long time before observable evidence tells the whole story.

Logisticians need to remember to take care of themselves – their stubborn dedication to stability and efficiency can compromise those goals in the long term as others lean ever-harder on them, creating an emotional strain that can go unexpressed for years, only finally coming out after it’s too late to fix. If they can find coworkers and spouses who genuinely appreciate and complement their qualities, who enjoy the brightness, clarity and dependability that they offer, Logisticians will find that their stabilizing role is a tremendously satisfying one, knowing that they are part of a system that works.

There was more, but it was pages of information. I stopped at the introduction! I actually think that this fits her pretty well! Integrity, practical logic, and tireless dedication to duty are definitely traits that Riza has! She takes to tasks with accuracy and patience, and is definitely a no-nonsense kind of woman with her work. She can be seen as cold and unfeeling, although those that know her well know that she has a “gentle heart” and she does hold herself to high standards, becoming frustrated when others don’t meet them (like Mustang with paperwork). She has a tendency to forget to take care of herself, and she definitely needs reminding that she can take a break to take care of herself.

All in all I think this is a good fit for Riza. A lot of this makes a lot of sense for her!

Send in 🧙 to see my muse’s Hogwarts House Result

Gryffindor

Congratulations! You have been sorted into Gryffindor, the house of bravery and chivalry. You have nerve and courage. Not afraid to try anything! House colors: Red and Gold House ghost: Sir Nicholas House head: Professor McGonagall House founder: Godric Gryffindor House animal: Lion Your common room is located in Gryffindor Tower. Have a magical year at Hogwarts!

While I can see her being a Gryffindor, (although to be fair, you can probably make an argument for any house) I don’t think this is the house that she would have ended up in, especially an eleven year old girl. I honestly picture her more as a Hufflepuff. Riza is, by far, a very hard worker. She has a strong sense of justice. She is extremely loyal. She is definitely patient. Yes, she’s brave and has nerve and courage, but I don’t feel like those characteristics are cornerstones of her. But justice, loyalty and patience? I feel like those definitely are. I think that Hufflepuff fits Riza much better.

Send in 🎉to find out what role my muse plays in a friend group

You got: The Dad

You're the dad of your friend group. You're a lovable grump, constantly torn between the fact that you hate people but love your friends. Whenever anyone suggests a friend activity, you are always the one who suggests staying in with a beer or a nice scotch. You will show up to a party, but you won't be happy about it. Other dads: Ron Swanson, Daryl Dixon.

I don’t agree with this. Riza is social enough, she doesn’t typically seek out a party for a party. She does enjoy hanging out with those she feels close to, and she’s fine going out with the team to a bar, but she also is fine being at home. When she is out, she’s usually the one keeping an eye on everyone.

To me this test just wasn’t a good fit for Riza in general. I had trouble finding answers that fit Riza, (and, tbh, that would have fit me, personally) and it seemed to be aimed more at a more social and less professional crowd, which is probably why I had trouble finding answers that fit her. I also had no idea who the choices of people were on that one question. Like, not. a. clue.

In my opinion, this was not a test that was going to give a character like Riza an accurate read.

[fullmetalscullyy]

hit and run - chapter 1

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

rated: m | words: 2311

title: song called “hit and run” by lolo

read on ao3 and ffnet

Riza grunted as someone tackled her to the ground. Using her weight, she twisted, applying her momentum so she rolled onto her side, giving her a better chance to break free from their hold. When she spotted who had tackled her, though, she was surprised. It was the handsome noble man from the party.

The man she’d stolen from.

He grunted when she landed a knee to his stomach, springing to her feet like a cat and taking off down the alleyway.

“Stop!” he wheezed angrily, his pride probably hurt more than anything. Riza smirked. As if that was going to happen. “Give me my watch back.”

“If you want it, you’ll have to come and get it,” she grinned, turning to leave. Before she could take a step, she was tackled once more. He was fast, Riza would give him that. However, she hadn’t survived this long in life without being able to fight. Her knee bent underneath him, her heel rising, striking the back of his thigh, eliciting another grunt. His body jerked upwards, loosening the pressure on her body and she slid from out under his weight. His hands reached out, grabbing for her shoulders, but Riza shifted out of range and with the elbow she dug it into his ribs, incapacitating him further as she got to her feet.

“Come back here!” he wheezed.

“Enjoy your night, Mr. Mustang.” Not taking any chances this time, Riza was already running, motioning a tipping of her hat in farewell. A few blocks, a shimmy up a drain pipe, and a drop into an alleyway later, and Riza was out of sight and no longer being pursued.

She sauntered towards the slums before a thought hit her. If the man pursued her, he obviously cared enough about what she’d stolen. That brought her to a short stop. He saw her face when he tackled her. What if he went to the police?

“Ah, shit.”

A moment of indecision hit her because she had two kids waiting back home who were depending on her. She could risk it and ensure the man didn’t go to the police – given her special talents at negotiating, she could easily convince the man not to tell on her. Or, she could return home to Edward and Alphonse and lay low for a week or two. The trouble with that was they would be out of money and would have no way to buy food.

She groaned but turned on her heel and kept to the shadows, retracing her steps.

Riza followed him back to his home. Not taking any chances and ensuring he didn’t go to the police, she kept tabs on him, ending up at a bar near where the incident happened.

She felt slightly bad about his limp, bloody nose, and lip, but there was nothing to be done now. While admiring his will to fight for his belongings, Riza frowned. Why did he follow her, and for a watch, no less? Riza’s victims never saw her coming, and none ever tracked her down to retrieve what she’d taken. They were rich enough they could replace whatever had been taken or were so unconcerned with money and what they had, they never even noticed what was gone.

“Roy?” a concerned voice suddenly called out to him. A woman ran from the door of the bar to greet him. “Madame! Roy’s back and he needs some help.”

Riza watched as a larger woman exited the bar. Her presence seemed to take up the whole street. One look at her and Riza thought she wouldn’t want to cross her in a dark alley. Three other women followed behind, dresses swishing as they moved. Their faces were painted in makeup, the corsets of their dresses much more revealing than that of a typical lady’s –

Oh. Oh.

“Did you find out what we needed?” this “Madame” asked him by way of greeting. Roy’s reaction was to cringe and looked around the courtyard in front of the bar.

“Not here,” he hissed.

“This place is secure, Roy boy. Nobody listening except the woman that beat you up tonight.”

Riza’s eyes widened, but not before two hands grabbed both her arms from behind. As she struggled, desperately trying to break from the hold, a hand dipped into her pocket to retrieve Roy’s watch. Damnit.

“Let me go,” she growled.

“Not so fun to be on the other side, is it?” a woman crooned. Something hit the back of her head and as pain blossomed there, Riza’s world went dark.

*          *          *

Riza came to, finding herself tied to a wooden chair in an empty room. It looked like a cellar, the walls lined with casks and wine bottles. Crates lay around the room, their marking indicating there were foodstuffs held inside.

Trying to break the ties, Riza discovered they were tight, cutting into her flesh. Damn. She needed to get out of here. She needed to get home. Ed and Al would be waiting on her to show. If she didn’t return, they would no doubt venture out to find her and get into trouble. Panic begun to rise within her at the thought.

As the door opened, she schooled her features and emotions, expression turning hard and cold as the man, Roy, walked into the room.

“Good evening,” he greeted coolly.

“Mr. Mustang,” she replied, not giving him an inch.

“Thank you for returning the watch. And to my home, no less. Very kind of you.”

“It was my pleasure.” Her icy tone told him exactly how she felt about her current situation.

She was pissed.

She’d never been caught before. She was too good for that. So how did this man and his team end up taking her down so easily? Doubt pooled in her gut as Riza thought she might not be as good as she thought –

No, she was the best damn thief in this shithole city. There was no one who could compete with the likes of her. She just needed to be patient and bide her time. Her worry for Edward and Alphonse was tucked in a compartment at the back of her brain for a time when she wasn’t being held captive by a rich man.

“Can I help you?” she asked, letting her irritation show. “Or do you often take women captive in your cellars?”

“Only those who break the law,” he retorted angrily.

Was he –?

“What are you, a fucking cop?” She spat on the floor.

Mustang sniffed in response but didn’t answer her. She scoffed quietly, taking his silence for an answer. Before their conversation could continue, the door opened again and the “Madame” from earlier entered the room. Riza straightened her back as the woman eyed her. What Riza didn’t appreciate was the way she was being eyed as if she was a piece of dirt underneath the woman’s shoe. The man, Roy, folded his arms and never took his eyes off Riza, opting to stare her out just like the Madame.

“Miss Riza,” the older woman greeted, removing her cigarette from her mouth and blowing smoke into the room. It coiled in the air, drifting towards Riza. She resisted the urge to flinch away from it. She’d never gotten on well with smoke and fire in her life. “Thank you for returning my son’s watch to him.”

So, Roy was this woman’s son? They looked nothing alike, so Riza was having a hard time trying to figure out the true relationship there. His Xingese features were a far cry from her Amestrian ones, however, some might say Ed and Al were Riza’s “kids”. Despite the fact it would be impossible – that would mean Riza was ten when she had Edward – family didn’t end with blood. Riza knew that better than anyone.

It also explained the ridiculous nickname, “Roy boy”.

“How do you know my name?” Riza asked, narrowing her eyes at the Madame, who chuckled in response.

“This is my city, darling. I know every rat that runs through its streets.”

“I’m not a rat,” Riza snapped.

The Madame snorted. “We all are, Miss Riza. Don’t kid yourself.” She pushed off the wooden support beam she’d been leaning on, approaching Riza further, taking another drag of her cigarette. “The sooner you stop, the better your life will be.

“Your little stunt tonight almost butchered one of my operations,” the Madame revealed, blowing smoke directly into Riza’s face. A power play, one Riza decidedly did not appreciate. She didn’t even try to hide the disgusted look on her face. “Roy boy here was close to sealing the deal and your restless little fingers just couldn’t keep still, could they? What’s your reasonings, girl?”

“I don’t need to tell you shit,” Riza replied defiantly meeting the Madame’s gaze.

“True,” she replied conversationally. “However, if you don’t, it might lead to some unfortunate circumstances for yourself,” she threatened. The Madame straightened her arm, inspecting her fingernails. “I don’t think you would enjoy that, given your current living situation.” Upon the last sentence, the Madame’s eyes flashed and met Riza’s head on, unflinching.

She would kill Riza just because she wouldn’t reveal her reasons? That look, and the comment about Central being “her city”, told Riza that this woman knew exactly who she was and who she looked after.

Shit.

“All I want to know is why you felt the need choose my Roy boy tonight and almost blow months of work for me.”

At the mention of the nickname, “Roy boy” shifted in place, but his obsidian eyes never moved from Riza. The arms folded across his chest spoke of power and strength. The blood on his face had been wiped away, but his lip was still red and swollen. His nose looked alright and he stood tall, his stance even, seemingly without discomfort from the limp Riza had seen earlier on. Come to think of it, she didn’t remember noticing it when he entered the room.

But this could all be a ploy not to show her weakness.

“Well, with a threat like that,” Riza replied, eyeing both her captors. “And given my current situation, I see that I don’t have much of a choice.”

“You’re a smart girl,” the Madame snorted.

Riza grit her teeth. “He was an easy target,” she revealed. It was true, Roy was an easy target at that ball, but that didn’t mean Riza liked to reveal her reasons, especially not to someone she now considered the enemy. So, at the ball, Riza took her chance to try and put food on her table for another day.

Roy frowned, his shoulders sagging. Riza had to hide her amusement.

“I picked Roy boy,” she mocked. “Because out of that whole room he was the easiest person to pickpocket. I just don’t see why he was so damn protective over a rusty old watch.”

“And you need to keep your nose out of my business,” Roy snapped, speaking for the first time since the Madame had entered the room.

“A rusty old watch, huh?” the Madame chuckled. “If it was rusty and old, why did you steal it?”

“Even something shitty like that has to have value if you’re running in the circles you were tonight.”

Riza didn’t expect Roy to stride forward, face like thunder, but he did. “That’s none of your business,” he growled, getting right in her face.

Okay, watch is a touchy subject. Noted.

His dark eyes seemed to swim with his rage, the emotion palpable in the air around them. It rolled off him in waves – a reaction Riza would never have expected from something like stealing a watch. Clearly, it had sentimental value.

Well, she did want to know why he’d chased her down after discovering his personal belongings had been stolen. Perhaps he was different from the other noblemen at the ball. He obviously cared about that damned watch while the others would have scoffed and bought another. Given his outburst, he cared about it very much. Also, with the set up this little shindig and his relationship with the Madame, Riza discovered that she may have read Roy wrong all along.

Well, except from the part regarding him being on the opposite side to Riza. That was still very much true, given her capture.

“Roy,” the Madame barked suddenly. “Go out front and calm down.”

Surprisingly, he stormed out the room without looking back and slammed the door – hard – behind him.

“It would do you well to remember your place, girl,” the Madame sniffed.

Riza barked a laugh. “Remember my place?” she echoed. “I’m tied to a fucking chair and being held captive. I’m severely outnumbered, but I know my goddamn place. If I’m just a waste of space to you, then why am I still here? Your threats have implied you’ll kill me if I don’t cooperate, so why don’t you do it already?”

“It’s not my intention to kill you, no. Those poor boys don’t deserve that.” Dread pooled in Riza’s stomach. “No, you have a specific set of skills that would be useful to me. I’m not one to throw away a perfectly good thing just on principle, Miss Riza. If you can help me, then I will utilise your skills.”

“And who says I will help you?”

The Madame smirked. “You’re tied up in my basement. You ruined a deal for me tonight. Call helping me your repayment for that mistake. Besides, you don’t really have much choice if you want to leave here. If I remember correctly, you have people depending on you, and you wouldn’t want to leave them on their own too long, would you?”

Riza stiffened in her chair. She was well and truly stuck.

The Madame smirked, sensing Riza had finally come to her conclusion.

“So, how about we talk terms?”

[flourchildwrites]

Witch, Please!  Fictober 2019  (9/31)

A multi-fandom Fictober prompt compilation.  Your wish is my command, but be careful what you ask for.  You just might get it.

Prompt:  “Shipwrecked” from Writetober 2019 Prompt List

Fandom:  Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)

Relationship/Pairing:  Team Mustang starring Riza Hawkeye, Implied Royai

Genre:  Alternate Universe - Pirate

Rating:  Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count:  1,507 words

Read on AO3

Riza Hawkeye's first memories were of the sea.

She remembered her mother pulling her up to peer over the bow of their ship, the Lady Elizabeth. The salt air had stung the young girl’s round face and caught the wispy ends of her dirty blonde hair. But even from the tender age of five, Riza saw freedom hanging just beyond the horizon, and she never once yearned for life on dry land. It was fair to say that Hawkeye earned her sea legs before she even learned to walk, born below deck and raised in the captain's quarters alongside a cabin boy who would one day become king of her floating castle.

At first, Riza resented her father’s deathbed decision to name Roy Mustang the captain and she the sailing master. By rights, the Lady Elizabeth was her property, but with time, she began to understand Berthold’s twisted, if accurate, logic. Captain Mustang had a dashing persona and an innate understanding of the way the world worked both at port and sea. He wielded his charism like a weapon, narrowly escaping one close call after another while Hawkeye tended to reply on the pistol tucked into her sash and the dagger hidden in her boot.

On nights like this one, Riza marveled at the way the crew responded to Captain Mustang’s confidence, even as she knew their ship was all but lost.

Lightning cracked the sky overhead as its tendrils cut the darkness to pieces. The weather had turned quickly, leaving precious little time to secure the sails and batten down the hatches, much less head further out to the open sea. Tempest winds rocked the ship back and forth, and the ship's sturdy planks groaned with the effort of resisting the melee.

“Tether yourselves to the ship,” Captain Mustang called out, “and get Furey down from the rafters.”

Disregarding his own well being, Quartermaster Havoc wrapped a length of rope around Hawkeye’s waist as she gripped the ship’s wheel and heaved it back into position. Overhead, Kain Fuery flew like a sparrow amongst the sails, as lithe as a dancer with the hardened edge of a seasoned boatswain. Only the young Elric brothers could hope to match his agility.

“Should we drop anchors, Captain?” Edward yelled. His pitchy voice strained against the wind and rain.

“Aye, do it now!”

No sooner than the word was given than Riza heard the telltale sound of metal scratching the deck and chains plummeting into the depths. For a split second, Hawkeye glanced in her captain’s direction and graced him with a stern but approving nod. They were going to make it. The storm would not…

No sooner had Roy’s onyx eyes met’s Riza’s copper gaze than the boat lurched, side-swept by the changeable tide. Wind battered the Lady Elizabeth’s starboard side, and the chain securing the anchors strained under the pressure, working against the vessel's integrity. It was then that both the captain and his sailing master remembered the damaged mainsail as well as the purpose of their journey to Tortuga — much-needed repairs. Another gust struck the ship sideways, and the Lady Elizabeth began to falter, her rafters snapped and the craft started to fall to ruin. In a split second, Hawkeye made a decision, communicated to her captain with little more than a look as the crew’s bodies were thrown about the tipping ship heading sidelong toward the craggy coastline.

“Abandon ship!”

Experienced sailors readied the rowboats, tossing supplies and helping injured crewmates into the smaller crafts. Riza’s hands tightened on the wheel even as she untied the tether at her waist. Hawkeye braced herself for as long as she could against the pull of the tide.

A flash of green caught Hawkeye’s sharp eye, and she glanced sideways to spy the ship’s quartermaster wedged beneath a pile of fallen debris. The bright green sash given to him by his sweetheart fluttered in the gale-force winds. Jean Havoc struggled to free his legs. His panic-stricken face paled as fresh blood painted the deck.

Hawkeye moved without the memory of deciding to do so. Her boots pounded against the worn planks as her spirit raged against the storm. All the while, she thought to herself that it was bad enough to lose her mother's ship. She refused to lose Jean as well, a crewmate and her friend.

“Havoc,” Riza cried as she reached him and pushed the wreckage from his legs. "We've got to go!"

Grabbing the muscled man under his arms and hoisting him upward, Riza helped him to the port side of the ship, closest to the shore. Both seafarers gripped the banister and looked down at the last remaining rowboat as a sickening crack sounded from above and the mainsail finally gave way.

“JUMP!”

For a moment, Riza felt her body suspended in midair alongside the injured quartermaster, and during those precious seconds, she traveled back in time. Gone was the wind whipping her loose shirt and pull of trousers skimming the contours of her legs. The pistol at the young woman’s waist fell away, and it was replaced by a child’s coin purse stuffed full of spending money for the market at Riza's favorite seaside town.

When Riza looked down, she did not see Captain Mustang. Instead, her mind's eye conjured images of 16-year-old Roy, dirty-faced but strong and freshly promoted to a full-fledged crewmate. The mischievous dark-haired boy laughed as he waited with open arms to catch her, and Riza trusted that he would let her fall. She knew they would find their way again, however hard they had to work to resurrect the Lady Elizabeth from Poseidon's grasp.

...

“Roy!”

Riza awoke with a start and sat up suddenly, clutching a bandaged area around her chest. She gasped for breath as her mind reeled, pulled unceremoniously from the unpredictable waters of the Carribean to a soft bed in a small room adorned with lace curtains that fluttered in the gentle breeze.

In the corner of the room, a familiar figure dozed in a moth-eaten armchair. Roy’s head lolled against the wall. His clothes seemed fresh-pressed and dry though his arm was bandaged and hung in a sling.

“Easy does it, girl,” a gravely female voice sounded from Riza’s bedside, accompanied by heavy footsteps against the house’s wooden floor. “You took quite a knock on the head and broke a few ribs in your fall, I suspect. Roy-boy brought you and the rest of the crew here last night. You’ve all been lucky to wreck so close to Tortuga. All except for that blond boy. Shame that, with a body like his.”

“You mean Havoc,” Riza interjected. “Did he… Is he…”

The older lady sighed and placed a basin of water on Riza’s bedside table. Even under the pressure of Riza’s unspoken inquiries, she took her time. The woman straightened up and tucked a lock of dark hair behind her bejeweled ear. The deep lines of her aged face betrayed no emotion.

“He’s alive if that’s what you asking,” she clarified, “but I can’t say he’ll walk again. Now, clean yourself up. I’ll send Madeline in to check your wounds and redress them if necessary. Unless, of course, you’d like Roy-boy to do it. He was very insistent that no one see your back.”

At the mention of her tattoo, Riza laid back. She pressed her neck against the pillows and swallowed hard. Briefly, she searched the older woman’s face for a sign of recognition and marveled that Roy would expose the map to anyone outside their small circle of trusted equals. It was said that Van Hohenheim’s treasure was without compare, containing treasure greater than gold that could reverse death itself. Roy sought it for his departed best friend and Riza for her mother.

In response, the women merely chuckled. “Smart girl. I wouldn't trust me either,” she said, turning her back to Riza and walking toward the door, “but in this case, I think we’d both be proven wrong. They call me Madame Christmas around these parts, but you can call me Chris Mustang.”

She thrust the door of the room open, ushering in sights and sounds from the tavern below. From her perch on the bed, Riza spied a few familiar figures moving with ease around the barroom. Riza breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the comforting sound of Heymans Breda’s fiddle, Alex Armstrong’s boisterous laugh and the Elrics squabbling over the merry ruckus. The smell of beer and freshly baked bread soothed her senses as effectively as the gentle lapping of calm waves against the shore.

“Welcome to The Prodigal Son Tavern and Inn, Miss Hawkeye,” Chris announced. She threw a softer glance in Roy’s direction as he snoozed peacefully through the hubbub. “It’s nice to have its namesake back again.”

And though Riza missed the sound of seagulls and feel of the sun on her freckled skin, she was content that the Lady Elizabeth’s grand misadventure had somehow lead her to a place that felt like home.

A/N:  When I saw the shipwrecked prompt, I had to do this even though I know nothing about sailing. This chapter is heavily inspired by @tomochingus' ridiculously amazing Pirate AU art. No, I did not ask permission to write this. Yes, I do feel a little bad about that, and if anyone if upset at me, I am sorry. I just really wanted to share this! As always, please send me pairing requests for particular Fictober prompts through my tumblr. I've got one prompt (YAY), and I'll be working on it soon. Otherwise, if you read something you like, let me know. Your kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes and reblogs mean so much to me.

[zetalial]

Roy Mustang - a military man.

Hey, my lovely friend @prettywitchiusaka asked me to do a post all about my interpretation of Roy Mustang so here it is!

This post is all about the Roy presented in the 03 anime for the record. (Roy’s character is quite a bit different in Brotherhood. A little more heroic and a little less broken and a little more consumed by revenge.)

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Let’s see... Roy is part of the military. That is his most significant characteristic. Yes, the military defines him. The military is a pretty messed-up institution in the world of FMA. The country is always at war and it will slowly be revealed that there’s no good justification for it. Wars have been happening because people want to obtain the forbidden power of the Philosopher’s stone. 

Roy’s arc throughout the story is all about coming to understanding how broken this system he’s dedicated to is even while his life is completely tied up in the military. All his friends and companions are his fellow soldiers and Roy is rarely ever shown wearing anything but his uniform. The military defines his life -he’s been part of it for a long time - and it is hopelessly corrupt. 

The first eye-opener for Roy was the Ishval war. He sees great atrocities committed... and he participates in them, following the orders of his superiors. He’d likely believed all the lies he’d been told about his ‘enemies.’

He hates himself for it but Roy is a dutiful soldier in Ishval. (The only exception we see is helping Dr. Marcoh to escape.) We specifically see him blowing up a young boy with a gun (in a PTSD flashback) and his execution of a pair of (Amestrian) doctors. He confesses to Hughes to killing a lot of people in Ishval.

For his work, he is rapidly promoted through the military and we meet him as Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame alchemist and hero of Ishval. At first he seems like an arrogant, teasing person with a goofy side around his close subordinates. Towards Ed, he really gets under his skin with his smirking knows-everything attitude.

Secretly, Roy is filled with self-loathing and drinks and even considers killing himself. He makes a promise to himself to fix the military, aided by his closest friend Maes Hughes. Of course, Roy wants to reform the system from the inside and to achieve that he aims to become the Fuhrer - that’s his goal for the series. He feels its the only way he can justify living and making up for his sins. (Also, as he expresses to Winry later, that he wants to be in a position where he’ll never have to follow unjust orders again.)

While he may have done terrible things, he is not a bad person. At least, that’s not how others see him. He has a loyal team surrounding him who want to help him to achieve his goals. Havoc, Breda, Fuery, Falman and, of course, Riza Hawkeye. They all greatly respect him. Riza makes it very clear that she is aware of the things he’s done in Ishval and chooses to follow him anyway. She does not condemn him.  Besides them, there’s also Armstrong and Hughes. 

Roy tries his best to be good, to improve the world even as he’s trapped by his own demons. He’s given up his innocence to get into a high-up, influential Military position. It’s not easy for him, we really see his struggles and we’re slowly shown that, yes, the things he has done are awful and he can’t necessarily expect forgiveness. 

Roy is a people person who can be very charming. He goes on lots of dates with girls and has been very good at becoming a rising threat in the military as he works his way up the chain of command. He is seen as power-hungry by many who don’t know him well. (Sheska views him this way for much of the series given his inability to open up to her when she wants to help.) These relationships are fleeting things compared to the trust of his team however. 

That brings us to Edward and Alphonse. Roy’s relationship with them is quite unlike anyone else - they aren’t Military, they’re still (clever, somewhat jaded) children. While Ed does join the Military on Roy’s suggestion, he keeps it at arms length. Edward never wears a uniform and makes it very obvious that he sees joining the military as a means to an end - he’s only after the stone. The Elrics have never experienced war and Roy wishes that he could make it so they never will. To that end, he’s protective of them, keeping them in the dark about Liore and about Hughes’ death. While he’s caring, he has the inability to be very effective about it. He’s a soldier who struggles to relate to the boys.

After the Nina tragedy, and facing a crying, distraught Ed in an alley, Roy is harsh and tells Ed to just get over it and move on. This disconnect resulting from alternating between being overprotective and treating Edward like one of his men is partially why the two have a rather strained relationship throughout the series. (And why I don’t much care for a parental!Roy. It’s not that he doesn’t care but that he doesn’t care successfully.)

Their relationship is further complicated by how they’re both basically using the other for their own goals. Ed only motivation is fixing his brother and he’s joined the military for its resources so he can search for the Philosopher’s stone. Roy is sympathetic, of coursem but his discovery of the prodigy Fullmetal alchemist for the military definitely earns him some points in the eyes of the higher ups. Additionally, Ed is reporting to Mustang - he can find all about the Philosopher’s stone through Ed; he knows it is somehow connected to the military as he used an incomplete stone in Ishval. The information that Ed is seeking out is valuable to Mustang. Later, it will be Ed and Al who will tell him that the Fuhrer and his secretary are both Homunculi and that they have been causing wars purely because they have been after the stone this whole time.  

In the first half of the series, Roy is motivated by guilt over his actions in Ishval. He believed he could fix things by gaining power. But things change with the death of his dearest friend Maes Hughes. It’s at that point he begins to realise how deep the corruption in the Military goes. Hughes’ research into the Ishval war led to his death. Working to slowly reform the military from the inside is starting to look more and more like a hopeless dream when it’s hiding so much evil - such as the fifth laboratory and their special ops soldiers they turned into chimeras after they started a war. (The Ishval war, naturally.)

The Fuhrer’s genial demeanour had fooled many soldiers into maybe thinking he might be what he appears to be - a kind grandfatherly sort of man who cares about the military. It’s only a closer look that shows that he’d been constantly throwing the country into pointless wars in order to gather ingredients for the stone and to cause people to lose everything and become desperate enough to seek it out. (Mustang and his team talk about it in episode 44). It is at this point that they are growing aware that the Fuhrer who they have been serving is their true enemy.

In the above scene, Riza describes how Mustang can use his destructive flame alchemy to prevent a riot breaking out. Despite Mustang’s best efforts to be a soldier who can keep the peace and protect others though, he isn’t able to prevent Liore from turning into another Ishval. He wasn’t able to protect his best friend, Hughes. Ishvalans are still being persecuted by the military. He can’t even protect the Elrics from war.

That’s why he ultimately has to give up his dreams. He wanted to become the Fuhrer to fix the military and prevent all the unjust suffering and the deaths of innocent people but his plans of reforming it from the inside are too slow and they aren’t working. Maybe they’d never work if it’s been the Homunculi ultimately pulling the strings this whole time. Whatever the case, he decides he can no longer justify his position as the dutiful soldier. 

He decides instead to assassinate the Fuhrer. Yes, it’s about avenging Hughes but it’s also about justifying his own existence and doing what’s Right. Standing idly by as more wars are started would be selfish in his mind; even his dream to become the Fuhrer would have become selfish. 

He and Edward cross paths once more. Edward is on his way to fight the Homunculi because he cannot stand by either. His goal of fixing himself and his brother is now secondary to stopping evil. Likewise, Mustang’s new motivation is to stop the evil corruption that plagues the country at the source. 

It is only now that the two of them can come to an understanding. Right as both of them go their own separate ways to potentially face death. I like how in the above scene, Mustang initially thinks to give Ed a military salute but then changes his mind and offers him a handshake instead. A nice little symbol showing how they’re a bit closer and also how their not tied to the military anymore. (Ed goes for a handclap because he’s contrary and it lightens the mood.)

Roy’s loyal men are staging a coup for him, directly waging war against the corrupt military. Meanwhile, he and his closest companion Riza sneak over to the Fuhrer’s home alone. (I like how he’s not in his military uniform in this final fight.)

It is fitting that Roy has to face Pride at the end because he has had to let go of his pride, his dreams, to come here. Ed explicitly states that he’ll never be able to become Fuhrer if he goes through with this. His whole identity as a military man is being thrown away here and he is at peace with the thought. 

The Fuhrer’s last actions involve taking an innocent child down with even as the innocent boy leads to his own defeat. It is not a perfect, bloodless victory.

Interestingly enough, it is Archer who takes out one of Mustang’s eyes. Archer operates as a foil to Mustang, a man who was jealous of Mustang’s prestige from Ishval and wanted Liore to be ‘his’ ishval. Archer is cold but clever; most people can’t stand him but he nevertheless rose to power following Hughes’ death. Yeah, a good man like Hughes gets replaced by a power-hungry snake such as Archer. While Mustang is a military man, he does not enjoy and embrace it as Archer does.

Archer was described as the ideal soldier because he is a man who likes war. His most faithful man was Kimblee (who loves to cause chaos and suffering). It’s a pretty good symbol as to how much Mustang messed up in his relationship with Ed when Edward decides to willingly turn himself over to Archer’s command rather than stick with Roy (who was being controlling). By the end of course, Archer has been turned into a crazed half-machine and he’s killed by Riza, who was defending Roy. 

But in the end, when Roy has finally killed the Fuhrer and finally given up on the military that has so long defined him? When’s he severely injured?

Well, they’ve finally reversed the Ishvalan policy and the finally reforming State is actually helping them to rebuild.

Riza is closer to Roy now that they’re both out of uniform. She’s taking care of him and letting her hair down. They were always very close in the military but there was a wall between them. It seems to have dropped.

Things are still imperfect, Roy acknowledges as much. The world is beautiful for it’s imperfections, he says.

Roy? He’s happy now. 

----

And that concludes Roy’s arc in the series and some of my thoughts on his character. Like all characters in the show, he’s pretty defined by past tragedies. He’s one of the most complex characters I think, so I tried to keep this pretty focussed. I see him as the main character after Ed and Al so we see a lot of him in the series. His relationships between the various characters is pretty varied and I didn’t want to go into every one in depth but I hope this works as a good overview. 

[cosmetologynerd]

The Rise and Fall

It’s written in the stars.

It’s a saying as old as anyone can remember, a tribute to all that the universe holds secret. The universe in all its power, in all its vast wisdom and knowledge holds this deep rooted secret. Something you either want to hear, something that drives you to your very soul, that you just can’t help but think about. Or, it’s something that you run from, choosing like so many before you to ignore the writing in the stars and pray that it turns out differently. It’s a subtle taunt, a sign of good when it comes to lovers, a tragic whisper when a death befalls someone so young.

It can be the beginning of all things. Or the end of all things.

And yet, with you, it was so rich, so inviting, so perfectly packaged that all the other signs didn’t matter. We were written in the stars and no one could convince me otherwise.

You brought my mom flowers on our first date. Her favorite lilies bloomed on the marble island as you held my hand and joked with my dad. The promising smile of a mother, the searching eyes of a father, and the wishful, bright eyes of the girl you were hoping liked you back just as much. You made sure to walk up to my door, not to pull up and honk that you were here as so many others had done before you. You made sure you were freshly dressed, your blue jeans faded because you couldn’t afford another pair. Your favorite pink shirt had a small hole on the back right shoulder, which I would tease you about for months, but you smiled big. It was your best shirt, and you wore it proudly.

We didn’t pay attention to the time. We drove down back roads in your mustang that your dad paid for, windows rolled down in early January, the crisp winter air that only the pacific northwest could bring whipping through our hair. I laughed and sang along to a horrible top 20’s hit that you only had on because you knew I liked it. We talked for hours, you sometimes asking what way you thought we should go. I’d say right. You’d go left.

“Adventure means not having control over the path you take.”

I don’t remember if you ever said those exact words to me, or if it was more of an ideal I associated to you. Either way, that is something I learned from you.

You lived your life never minding being late, or suddenly changing plans, or just winging it all together. You would take life as it came at you. This may have been forged by the struggles you faced as a child and teen, living in a home with just as many problems as there were good moments. This may have been just how you chose to keep yourself afloat through it all, deciding that if you just went with the tide instead of fighting it that life would be easier. But it was a trait I wish I had.

I chose to live life by a much stricter, planned out manner. I have always had more planners than I can count, color coding each and every item in it, and somehow convincing myself that this meant that I had my shit together and knew what I was doing. You would watch as I set myself on the path I chose when I was four years old: Go to college, get your degree and figure the rest out later. I gave up high school experiences to go to college my junior and senior year, you watched, supporting me every step of the way as I hated my classes but passed them anyways. When I didn’t go, you reminded me why I chose that course in the first place.

And then… You moved away.

We spent a year and a half in long distance, unsure how any of this was going to work, but we made it work. I’d call you crying, you’d comfort me. We’d fight, you would drive back up to make sure we were okay. We faced hell and high water. No one thought we would make it. And when I decided, right before writing a tuition check to a college I always dreamed about going to, that I was going to change everything about my future and move into an apartment we couldn’t afford just to be with you - you were so happy.

We both wanted it so bad, the long nights apart would become less. We would live in a place we called our own and decorate it how we wanted and we would figure the rest out as we went. Because you made it easy to loosen up. I picked the place, you smiled and said you would sign the papers so long as I was happy where we were at.

The day we got our keys we were over the moon. We drove down, U-Haul loaded, gas filled to the brim with three cars of helpers beyond excited for our next step. Beyond proud that we decided to take this leap after really only being together for such a short period of time. A year and a half of distance had us convinced this was our forever, and that this was what we wanted.

We were ready, god help the poor soul who told us we were crazy.

Going to Costco with you was my favorite lazy day activity.

You’d roll out of bed, turning on the heater to keep me warm while I slept in. You’d cook, your only attire the green fleece pajama pants I bought you for Christmas, the waistband hanging low, your mouth humming the words to whatever Disney song I had managed to get stuck in your head the night before. I’d wake up to the smell of bacon, sizzling away, eggs scrambled to perfection. You’d cook them differently because, well, you liked them plain, but I liked them loaded with cheese and milk cooked right in. You’d eat them how I liked, because that’s just how you were. Making sure I was happy before anything else mattered.

We’d eat, and slowly get ready. I’d curl my hair, or put it in a bun. You’d shower, I’d do my makeup. You’d kiss my forehead as I struggled to get my eyeliner just right. I would complain, but my heart was soaring through my chest every time you did it. We’d load up in the car, winter jackets pulled on tight, my gloves battered from use, nose red from the chilly walk to the car. And off we went, pulling up to the super store, pretending we had more money than we did.

I know for a fact one time we drained the whole bank account shopping in there. But it was okay. All the other bills were paid, and we had credit cards. We could get by until payday. Life would be okay, because you said it would.

“When has it ever not been okay?”

This I know you told me. On more than one occasion.

I had anxiety, the worst possible kind. Operating silently, always there but only ever showing itself in huge outbursts. It must’ve been hard, dating me. I would be fine for weeks, working, going to school, writing, doing all the things I had to do, and wanted to do to keep myself sane. But then you would come home one day, and I would be curled up on the bed, on the floor, in the tub, just sobbing my eyes out, screaming about how I didn’t know how we could have been so stupid, that we couldn’t afford to live on our own.

You would smile sadly, heat me up some milk, pet my hair three times, but never any more and just walk away.

I never blamed you for that. But maybe I should have.

You always promised to be there through it all, promised that in the end it would all work out, that we had people who would help us- by which you meant my parents- and that it would be okay. Words are words. They help, but in four years, you never once tried to help me through my attacks by holding my hand. You would never pet my hair for longer than three strokes, panic attack or not.

It was written in the stars that we would fail.

The signs were everywhere, but I chose to ignore them. I asked to live in New York, or California, raving excitedly about how my career could thrive in those areas. I begged and pleaded for you to consider it, to take a trip to the city with me, just to see what it would be like.

You refused.

I asked for you to never move me to a small town. You knew I hated them, my childhood living in a small coastal town having instilled a deep rooted hatred of them in my very soul. I left the coast with no intention of ever moving back, saying the city was my home, knowing that walking down the wet concrete streets of Seattle or Portland as the city lights glimmered about above me made my heart feel alive in ways that no where else could. But you came home with a glowing look on your face, the job offer clutched in your hand that used to hold mine so tenderly, and yet had failed to in months.

We went.

It was a town full of things I hated. People knowing me everywhere I went. Two stop lights in the whole place, the water close by, but the docks so run down they hardly existed anymore. I could drive from one end of town to the other in ten minutes. I could drive to work in two. But you were so happy, that I decided I would try it. I would try it for you even though you never would have done it for me. I tried to be happy. I really did try. I tried to write, and I tried to throw myself into the community. I worked at the best salon. I coached the high school cheer team, my spirit trying to be happy every day, and being crushed every single day.

I asked when you started to drink so much. You were buying beer at alarming rates. Cases would be brought home. Twenty four packs, thirty six packs. You’d go to work for two days, and you’d come home for four. You’d sit yourself in front of the computer, playing video games and ignoring me and drinking the cases faster and faster until I couldn’t turn a blind eye to it anymore. It was something I worried about. You’d told me about your families struggle with it. I’d seen that struggle first hand. We agreed to always talk to each other, to never turn to the bottle when things got hard.

I kept my end of the deal. Maybe a little too well.

I don’t like to drink. The burn of amber liquid running down my throat, the stench of gin, the supposed intoxicating aroma of tequila never holding any interest to me. When I turned twenty one, you had already made up your mind on what was going to become of us. Had the stars revealed their plan for us to you? Had you been deemed worthy of insight to our future while I was to be shut out, left alone in the cold?

You asked me to loosen up, to drink whatever was put in front of me for just one day. And so, I obliged. I tried every cocktail, every beer, every wine placed in front of me. You were drunk by noon. I was still sober come eight at night and I was left to drive home after my birthday and drag you into the house, where you promptly fell asleep.

Was this what love looked like?

Was our love so stale, so fragmented that when I wanted more, you didn’t? Was it so broken that when you wanted me to loosen up, I closed myself off to you? Did we really allow that to become what our love was?

I laid in bed most nights, wondering where the man who brought my mother flowers had gone. I wondered if the drinking was a problem or normal twenty one year old woes. I wondered if you loved me, and I buried that thought away, filed it into a box in a corner to far in the back of my mind that I forgot I ever asked it.

Of course you loved me. You had provided me with everything I could have wanted. You gifted me a sweet pet when I was so distraught about leaving my pet at home when I moved out. You bought me things I wanted, no matter how small and you would do it with a kiss on my head and a smile and say “I’m your boyfriend, I’m supposed to spoil you.” You took me to Hawaii when you knew just how desperately I wanted to go. You held me when we were on a white sand beach, the sand under my fingernails and the waves lapping our toes and I got a phone call from my mom telling me my dog had died. You held me even tighter a week later when we learned his brother had died unexpectedly. You’d proven you’d loved me.

But you wouldn’t love me the same way I loved you.

I uprooted everything for you, left friends, left people I considered family not once, but twice. I did this, to go where you would be happy, where your career would thrive. You made it clear you weren’t willing to do the same for me. I brushed it away. I told myself it was okay because you, like me, wanted to see the world. But any time I asked to go, you’d say we couldn’t afford it, that it was too much money and we didn’t have the time.

When you broke up with me, you came home, on a rainy night, ignoring my probably twenty thousand phone calls, walked in the door and said you hadn’t felt the same way I had for months. You cried and texted me a song that you wanted me to listen to any time I needed to understand. You said it was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do, to break my heart. But as I held our cat in my hands, my eyes red and puffy from crying to hard, from being so blindsided by what you were doing, I watched you walk out the door, toss your suitcase in the back of your truck and drive away without another look back at me.

It was like I didn’t even matter. Like our cat didn’t even matter. Like the unpaid bills on our counter, the laundry, the dishes, our life and everything we had built over the last four years didn’t even matter.

My dad knocked on the front door four hours later. He had sadness and anger in his eyes. The cat box needed to be cleaned out, there were dirty dishes and laundry to be done and our house- my house- looked like a wreck had gone through it. But he didn’t care. He held me tight, my mom and my brother walking in behind him, helping me pack up a bag and loading me and my cat into my car, my bags tossed into theirs and they drove me home. Back to the city, and my friends, and away from you.

It’s been three weeks now since the last time we talked. Two holidays have passed since I went and packed up the house, leaving you with only the bed your dad bought us and the beat up red couch we hadn’t quite managed to take to the dump yet after buying our new ones. Three months in total since the break up. I have a job that I love. I’m taking classes to further along my career. I’m planning trips overseas that I surely can’t afford, but I’m going anyways. Because it’s what I have always wanted to do.

The mountains call, and I must go. The sea whispers out to me, and I will cross it. The next adventure of my life awaits, I just have to have the courage to take it. My future is written in the stars. It’s bigger and brighter without you, and for the first time in nearly six months, I’ve managed to write like I never have before.

It’s funny, really. How the stars hold their secrets so tight. But the best kept secrets lie among them, and you’ll see them one day. When they decide you’re ready.

Tagging: @hollandroos @h-osterfield @holland-ish @connorshero @peterparker-imagines @peterstrainingwheels @peterparkerdeservesbetter @rileywrites-parker @thekillingquill @afterglowparker @petcerparker @starksparker

[highspringtide]

That Time Roy Mustang’s Terrible Handwriting Almost Killed Someone

There is a cliche in Amestris about alchemists, that somewhere amidst the years of drawing impeccable transmutation circles and scribbling down cryptic notes, they all develop terrible handwriting. But the consensus, in every office in which the Flame Alchemist has ever worked, is that he really takes this to new and unacceptable levels.

It’s bad enough when he’s writing things for other people to read. Mustang’s penmanship is frankly appalling, and on top of that he has a tendency, borrowed from alchemical practice, to throw in standard military shorthand used so idiosyncratically as to be incomprehensible. (It’s a bit questionable to use a shorthand symbol for a quartermaster in a longhand report. It’s inexcusable to combine the symbols for “quartermaster” and “shelter” to mean “supply cache,” and then use the invented symbol for a supply cache to mean a bakery, or a library.) But when Mustang is taking notes for his own use, he also throws in standard alchemical symbols, idiosyncratically used alchemical symbols, and symbols of his own invention.

Mustang’s staff officers are more or less able to struggle through the colonel’s writing when he wants things to be read. And it’s possible that a team of handwriting experts, military scribes, and alchemists would be able to read his personal notes, given enough time. (Hawkeye, of course, can read anything Mustang’s written. There’s a running debate about whether or not she even needs to slow down.)

And then Mustang does something to piss off General Raven, or offends the Fuhrer, or something stupid like that--the rumors are varied but unclear--and High Command scatters his staff to the four winds. But Mustang still has to file paperwork, and now a new team of officers from Central are the ones desperately trying to make sense of his handwriting. With Hawkeye gone, it’s career bureaucrat 2nd Lt. Mara Durocher who handles most of Mustang’s paperwork. The colonel does his best to write neater, now, but there are still plenty of times when Durocher can’t make heads or tails of what he’s written. And then she has to track down her superior officer, the famed war hero, perhaps the youngest colonel in the whole military, and ask whether that was an i or a t or an e, and what was this mark that looked like half a hat, and what did this entire sentence say.

Until one day when Durocher gets a file which she can’t make out at all, but she’s already asked Mustang for help reading his writing like five times that week, and she can’t bear to ask again. She considers, briefly, asking for help from a cryptographer, but she really shouldn’t be showing the colonel’s paperwork to random strangers. Unless. . . Durocher runs into Lt. Hawkeye in the cafeteria fairly frequently, and Hawkeye had worked for Mustang for years before she was lucky enough to get promoted to be the Fuhrer’s adjunct. She could almost certainly help Durocher make sense of the form. And if Hawkeye is Bradley’s adjunct, then certainly she has the security clearance to see Col. Mustang’s paperwork.

That afternoon around lunch, Hawkeye is trying to focus on coming up with a grocery list, and not what’s happening up at Briggs or under Central, when a woman she vaguely recognizes approaches her. Approaches her conspiratorially.

There are three possibilities, Hawkeye thinks, as Durocher tells her how she works in Mustangs office and needs Hawkeye’s help in reading some documents the colonel has written. One, Mustang is trying to send her a message via Durocher. Two, Bradley is testing her. And three, Durocher’s story is true and it’s only by accident that she looks like she’s now one of Mustang’s accomplices.

Well, Mustang wouldn't trust an outsider this quickly, and he wouldn’t send an innocent person unknowingly into danger. And whether this is a test or not, she’s got to make it clear that she’s not doing anything suspicious. She risks a glance down at the papers Durocher is proffering. Oh dear, the colonel’s chicken scratch scribbles do really look like a code, don’t they.

So Hawkeye steers Durocher out of the abandoned hallway and into the crowded cafeteria. “Of course, Lieutenant, I’d be happy to help,” she says, pulling Durocher over to a table full of people she knows slightly. There, she spreads the paperwork over the table and starts complaining loudly about all the problems caused because a certain state alchemist, her old boss, wrote less legibly than a drunken monkey. She even points out a few choice words to the people sitting around her. The other officers, at first skeptical that this Colonel Mustang’s writing was worse than that of your typical state alchemist, gather round to see. They are duly impressed, and the table has a lively conversation about the irritating things their own bosses do. Durocher, meanwhile, is terribly embarrassed that now everyone knows she couldn’t read her boss’s handwriting, and resolves not to ask Hawkeye for help any more.

And maybe, somebody or something that was watching exhales a bit, and concludes that although Durocher was carrying an illegible message from the traitor Col. Mustang to Col. Mustang’s closest ally, and although she entrusted that ally with that message in hoped-for secrecy, any information that Lt. Hawkeye would make so public must truly be unrelated to any plot.