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regrettablewritings · 5 years ago

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I, u, y for bodhi rook please!

As the words process in my mind, a tear rolls upon my cheek . . .

Could it be? I dare wonder. An lo: It is.

He has returned, after so far away in time . . .

I = Impression (What was their first impression?):

Well, he certainly wasn’t what you had expected, that was for sure. Defecting from the Empire was no easy feat, even for somebody as unassuming as a delivery pilot. To the enemy, every literal body counted — even if only to assure complete dominance over the individual. So when you had learned that one of their own had not only detected, but potentially played key in helping to locate Galen Erso?

You couldn’t help it: Your imagination went wild. You imagined someone big and strong, teeth gritting from years of pent up anger towards the unjust causes of the tyranny spreading across the galaxy.

What you got was a scrawny, sheepish, possibly traumatized (thanks, Saw, you absolute nerf-herder) slip of a man who seemed to be afraid of taking up any space he happened to exist in. It was...disappointing to say the least. But you had to commend him regardless for defecting and even surviving Saw, and there was no gain in looking down on him.

And then came the Scarif mission.

Nobody had expected him to go -- well, nobody was excpected to go, given that the Alliance Council turned down Erso’s idea, but least of all you expected him to be willing to go and do it. You expected the blind guy to go sailing off to a certified death mission before you did this guy! And honestly, that had you worried for him. Unfulfilled expectations or not, he wasn’t someone who had incurred your ire or even your indifference; you may not have gotten the chance to actually know him beyond a few words exchanged during the very brief time he’d been on base (“Welcome to the right side.” “Uh, y-yes . . . Thank you . . .”), but he certainly didn’t strike you as someone who needed to go on this type of outing. Enough people died unnecessarily in this damned war . . .

To learn, eventually, that he wasn’t one of them was therefore all the more shocking to you.

While the mission to steal the Death Star blueprints had been successful, it clearly didn’t come easy. Everyone who had survived had been wounded to some degree, with Captain Andor appearing to receive the worst of it as he was carted off to the infirmary. Bodhi, to your relief, wasn’t especially harmed. Roughed up, certainly, and clearly shaken from the experience, but that didn’t change what you now knew for certain: Bodhi Rook, this timid bean pole of a defector, was one of the bravest men you had the pleasure of knowing existed.

Even though he apparently was intimidated by you when you two first met. Granted, everyone intimidated him: He had just went AWOL with the government he’d been employed by, he was “taken in” by people whom he’d been taught by propaganda to fear and be distrustful in, he was still trying to regain his frazzled sanity after being interrogated by that . . . that thing, and he’d just witnessed his home get bombed. Needless to say, the anxious-by-nature man was simply not in an especially welcoming mood.

Still, he tried to be civilized (maybe because he feared getting beat up if he didn’t). He wasn’t sure what to say in response to your, er, “greeting” when you hustled up war-battered clothes besides an awkward thank you. He really wasn’t sure what to make of you that would separate you from his overall feelings towards nearly everyone in this whole operation: You were strong, you had been through enough and were surely hardened by it, and you could probably snap his spine over your knew if you particularly cared to.

Of course, he’d spent next to no time with you when he thought these things of everyone involved in the Rebellion. He had no time to: He had to fly around the Maker’s galaxy and back! It actually wasn’t until after the Scarif mission that he was given ample time to readily wipe his impressions and assumptions clean. He felt he needed to, given what dedication he’d seen on those beaches.

Besides, you approaching him afterward certainly helped. You picked up that he wasn’t fond of crowds during evening mess when he quietly slinked away from the group gathering to hear retellings of the infiltration on Scarif. You figured perhaps a one-on-one situation might’ve sufficed. Better yet, inquiring about his current state might’ve been preferable to reliving the experience.

He appreciated the gesture on your part. Maybe . . . you weren’t nearly as ice-cold as he’d thought you were. At the very least, definitely not as bad as Cassian.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?):

Bodhi is a naturally anxious person, and the hardships and experiences he’s encountered haven’t exactly made that any better. Sure, he’s a lot braver now and more willing to act, but he’s still nowhere near as gung-ho or fiery as his companions.

He’s had some methods in the past that clearly didn’t work out in his favor (fun fact: he’s got a record for gambling), but one of the best tried and trues is simply going somewhere quiet. His thoughts are in a constant buzz, he benefits from a lack of outside stimuli when he feels overwhelmed. The problem is . . . quiet is so very hard to find when you’re in the middle of a war. As an Imperial cargo pilot, you could just plain forget about the idea of having time to yourself: You belong to the Empire, your time is the Empire’s time and you are in no position to use it up.

Being a part of the Rebellion is better by legions, but the base on Yavin IV leaves much to be desired in terms of privacy and quiet. Luckily, the planet is lush and forested: If Bodhi is on base and feels the need to sit in the quiet and gather his thoughts and calm down, he need only walk in any given direction, find a tree to sit under, and just stay there for a while. The places he chooses are far enough to where he can relax and not have his thoughts and heartbeat disturbed by the banging of machinery or the hollers of drill sergeants, but never so far as to be unable to get help should he need it.

It wasn’t long before he began to incorporate you into these relaxation methods, however. As it turns out, as much as he may enjoy being able to sit by himself in the brush, he very much likes being able to sit with you anywhere. You’re almost like a walking calming center for him, especially when you touch him: Hold his hand, rub his back, let him lay his head on your lap so you can play with his hair . . . It’s like a missing link he never knew he’d been missing to begin with! They’re seemingly small things, but they make a big difference. You can always feel him losing his tension beneath your touch, often announced by quiet sighs or tiny shudders. It’s truly the cutest thing and you’re so glad to be the cause of it and help him calm down. Just not nearly as glad as he is to have you there to calm him.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?):

The thought of marriage has switched on and off throughout Bodhi’s life; really, it depends on the exact moment. As a child, he certainly thought about it more, if only because children are want to do such things. But as an adult, it begins to falter. By the time the events of the story show up, he can go long stretches without even once thinking about his stance on whether or not he should get married. Because really, it’s more based on the exact moment: If he’s in a surprisingly good way or even in a moment where he must think about how short life can be, the certainly he gives it some thought.

But in his usual misery and anxiety while serving the Empire, such silly concerns are the furthest thing from his mind; they’re so far on the back burner that they may as well have fallen behind the stove, forgotten, dusty, and moldy!

Even when he meets you, the thought surprisingly doesn’t come up for a while. It’s not that you don’t make him happy or inspire any intention of long-term romance -- far from it, actually! You make him feel the happiest and most comfortable than he’s felt in literal years! In fact, that’s honestly probably why the subject of marriage doesn’t pop up to him so immediately: His life as of late has become a bit of a balancing act, what with him now being a part of a rebellion he hadn’t planned on joining and, consequentially, trying not to get him or his new comrades killed. Normally, this sort of thing would’ve sent him into a panic-induced coma. But with you present in his life, giving him a sense of calm and someone to fight hard enough to come back to, you actually make him start to enjoy the present. (Well, the calmer ones, at least.)

He’s not as caught up about the past or afraid of the future as he used to be; he’s actually enjoying the moment with you as is. Sure, every now and again, if he does (or doesn’t) mean to think about it, his mind does slip and he finds himself thinking, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind being with them after all this . . .” He even dares to dream about the two of you sharing a life together on a nice, simple planet with lots of trees and greenery. Maybe somewhere quiet. A farm might be nice: He can so some gardening there and you two can build a house together, all big and roomy like you’d always wanted instead of cramped and stuffy like the living quarters you always complained about . . .

But then his attention would be dragged elsewhere (to a meeting, to training, to you calling him to join you for dinner). He doesn’t mind. He’s not brushing aside the possibilities of proposing to you and marrying you, but the dreams can wait: All in all, you’re here right now and he’s perfectly content being there with you. For now.

Thank you for asking and for being patient!

#bodhi rook x reader #bodhi rook #bodhi x reader #rogue one x reader #rogue one imagines #rogue one imagine #fluff alphabet #fluff headcanons #regrettablewritings

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rookisaknight · 3 years ago

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@professionalfobtrash absolutely no worries youve uncorked a folgers coffee can of brainworms

For those of you playing the home game, the symmetry theory is in essence the idea that Jason is becoming Vaas. Not literally, obviously, but more that Vaas represents a player too far gone and too consumed by the violence and "insanity" of Rook Island to ever want to leave it. The backbone of this theory is this games frequent use of repetition, mirrored visuals, and Jason and Vaas frequently swapping each other out visually in Jason's dream sequences.

There are essentially three levels to how I feel about this theory

Level 1. On a fan level I think this theory at its foundation is many players and spectators accurately picking up on the fact that Vaas is Jason's foil. The foil character is always going to be a distorted reflection of the focus character. They hold many traits in common, and yet will twist them slightly to either demonstrate the harmful potential of the hero or show how in another life, the villain could have ended up someone worth rooting for. Vaas and Jason are symmetrical in many senses, they have a very childlike way of engaging with violence, they are frequently detached from their reality, and they are both deeply impacted from and motivated by their sibling relationships. Vaas' twist is simply that he does not have access to the same support networks as Jason (represented by his American friends). I ultimately disagree with the meta implications other fans draw from this theory, there is a very good reason why theyve teased that meaning out of the text. Its very much founded in the dynamics and visual presentation we've been given.

Level 2. On a dev level I feel very certain this is the reading the writing team meant for players to draw from this game, that Vaas is a grim potential for players who dont have Jason forsake the cycle of violence. Game development is a process that involves hundreds of people, all of whom can have impact on the final product and change intended meanings, whether due to human error, a difference in interpretation, or changes made to aid in easier development/make corporate happy. But based on multiple interviews Ive read and seen and many of the more obvious writing choices, I do believe that Ubisoft was interested in making a game about player violence and the moral implications of its addictive nature. I do think Vaas was meant to represent a player too far gone., and reflect back on both Jason and the player to make them consider their choices

Then theres Level 3 where it falls apart. Here's my primary issue with just swallowing that reading. It is basically impossible, I would almost say irresponsible, to look at a character like Vaas and not realize he does not enter this violence in the same way that you do. Both the player and Jason are tourists to this world. They dont grow up surrounded by the violence of Rook Island or the exploitation of it. While in the early game they act very much from a place of trying to survive, the more the island opens up the less and less there is any real reason to do a lot of what youre doing. And most importantly of all: if Jason and the player make the right choice, they get to leave. Jason may say that he cant go back to how it was before. But he does get to put this behind him. Rook Island as a wound will one day, hopefully, be allowed to heal.

Vaas and Citra were never given that opt in. They were born here, grew up her subjected to the kinds of brutalities that people like Hoyt propagate on the island. For both of them violence has been a necessity as long as either of them have been alive. Citra uses her small bit of power to leverage a safe space for the Rakyat, but that space is constantly under threat and requires both her and Vaas to be perpetually engaged in an endless cycle of violence ("the first time I ever killed was for my sister, but that wasnt enough for her"). That incredibly conditional safe space eventually spits Vaas out, presumably when he finally refuses Citra's grooming, and from there he has nowhere to go but straight to Hoyt, a man who will only turn him right back around to use as a weapon against his own people.

There's no choice Vaas and Citra made to play this game. That choice was made for them before they were born by every corporation that colonized the island and destroyed its people. And there's no choice they can make to get out of it. No boat they can hop on to coast into Santa Monica, where maybe you'll never heal completely but theres no one turning you into a loaded gun anymore. Thats not to suggest Vaas or Citra dont have a sadistic side, they both put up a constant front of revelling in their work. Additionally, even if their conditions for entering into this work were less than consensual it doesnt change the fact that many people are hurt or dying because of them. But Vaas doesnt work as a meta representation of a player drunk on violence because for Vaas violence has never been an actual choice. The choice for Vaas is not kill or dont kill, but survive or die. Its the only framework men like Hoyt have left him.

So why the symmetry? Well, while Vaas doesnt work as a reflection of the player. He is still very much Jasons reflection. Just not by choice. Jason is being entered into a lot of the same specific cycles of violence and grooming that Citra put Vaas through (and which Citra perpetuates because of her own victimization by these cycles). Vaas was being set up to be Citra's warrior, to kill unthinkingly and be strong before he was anything else. All this to produce a baby that would be strong enough to lead the Rakyat to victory, a narrative Citra tells herself because she has to believe this game she's been forced into playing her whole life has a winstate where she can lead her people to happiness.

All this to say, Vaas is Jason's reflection, his beta. A version that was castoff before the cycles could completely strip him of a fighting chance at survival. But he isnt the player who has bought too hard into game logic .

Citra is

The Insanity DLC is fucking excellent for a lot of reasons but not least of which because it dropped that headassery of Vaas as a finality of players too addicted to violence to stop.

Like if by addicted to violence you mean continually dehumanized into a living weapon by literally everyone surrounding him and being the site of constant physical exploitation....

#far cry 3 #fc3 #vaas montenegro #citra talugmai #jason brody #symmetry theory

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mustangsan · 7 years ago

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Convivencia | Chapter iv: komorebi > On FF.Net and AO3

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist Pairing: Roy Mustang/ Riza Hawkeye | Royai Genres: Romance/General Universe: manga/2009 series verse Warning/Notes: - Status: In-progress Summary: origin: Spanish (n.) lit. “living together”, in the sense of living or working closely with other people with whom you share feelings, desires, or a common purpose. Roy and Riza through the years, from the beginning to the end.

Utwahay, 1899

“Pawns can only move forward one square at a time,” he repeated her instructions as he placed the black pieces in a neat line on the second row of squares, “except for their very first move. They can never move backwards, and only capture one square diagonally in front of them.” The last pawn was placed in a white square, and he rubbed his chin, eyes directed to the ceiling. “They can’t move when there’s a piece directly in front of them, and can get promoted when they reach the other side of the board.”

Roy retrieved two tower shaped pieces from their box. “Rooks can only move forward, backwards, and to the sides, but they can move as far as they want.” The boy placed them on the first row, each on one square of the corners.

He ran his thumb over the next pieces, ones that resembled horses. “Knights are different from the rest because they can move over other pieces.” After placing each piece beside a rook, he continued, “Two squares in one direction, then one at a ninety degree angle. An L shaped move.”

“Bishops are like rooks; they move as far as they want,” the apprentice set said pieces down on the board. “But only diagonally, and they must always stay on the same color from the start of the match to the end.”

Only two pieces left. “The most important piece is the king, but he’s the weakest, for he can only move one square at a time in any direction.” He placed the piece on a white square and moved over to fetch the last remaining piece. “But it’s okay, because the most powerful piece is always by his side to protect him.”

With that said, he placed the queen on the last empty square of the board and nodded to himself. Now that he remembered the basics, he could play more with her without problems.

komorebi; origin: Japanese

(n.) sunlight that filters through the leaves of trees.

He groaned in frustration, flexing his fingers and trying to ease the slight ache in his bones. This latest essay Berthold told him to write about the whole concept of equivalent exchange had rendered him a few headaches and maybe two restless nights, and after four days of planning and two entire days of writing, his seven pages long work was finally done. And just in time, Roy thought as he stretched his limbs above his head. It was due the next morning and it would be delivered fresh out of the oven.

The boy lifted the paper off the tabletop and closer to his face, twisting his lips slightly at his handwriting. He had written it all in a reasonably calm pace, but still the words were drawn in a scrawl in which each letter was long, thin and uneven. A T wasn’t the same as the other; two equal letters were different from the other. Riza’s handwriting, in comparison to his, was considerably smaller and rounder, each letter was about the same size and two equals hardly differed from the other. Girls and their ability to have prettier handwriting. He just wanted one that didn’t look like a medic’s unreadable scrawl, and his did, much to his chagrin.

For the first time he felt comfortable under the influence of Utwahay’s overwhelming heat, and for onc,e he didn’t need to unbutton his shirt or roll up his sleeves. It was mostly thanks to the fact that winter was mild here in south, unlike in Central in which it was simply too cold some days to leave the house with only two thin layers of clothing. Just the other day he had received Chris’s reply, and she asked him a bit about everything; if Master Hawkeye was treating him right, if he was safe, if he was studying hard, and even asked about Riza seeing as he had talked a lot about her when he went over for the holidays. And he found some time to write another letter and send it out, with details about his master’s odd mood, a few information about the town, and even less things about what he was learning (no point in saying too much to her since she didn’t understand an ounce about alchemy). He wrote more about the quiet blonde girl that he wanted so badly to earn her friendship, he admitted, and the way they were getting along surprisingly fine despite her shyness and their palpable differences.

The frown on his lips got more prominent once he stopped and realized that, perhaps, his aunt would get the wrong idea.

But the letter was way out of his reach now and she would have teased him regardless of all the things he did or didn’t say. That was Chris Mustang, teasing him about the girls that openly voiced their infatuation with him or any girl that interacted with him at some point, really. Riza would be no different.

Riza, by the way, had more things in common with him than he expected. She was quite smart and knew how to hold a conversation that interested the both of them, though she never started one herself. It was always him, by the table when eating or mindless chatting while doing their things on the low coffee table of the living room, and they surprisingly could concentrate well enough on their books despite the small talk that flowed with little effort. One day he helped her tend to her plants, and on another, she said she read around one fifth of the books her father allowed her to put her hands on. Right now, he had the opportunity to sit and read with her, but he needed to find her first.

Roy already knew she was quiet. Sometimes it was hard to forget she was sitting right across from him, but there were days that she was nowhere to be found. Absolutely nowhere. He had checked her room once, peeked inside for a matter of seconds actually, and she wasn’t there. He had even considered asking her father for her whereabouts, but he didn’t want to see what Berthold could do when interrupted just yet – in fact, he never wanted to see that. It was bad enough that the man at times snapped at him or her, and when the words were directed at her, Roy had to stand in the sidelines and watch as she averted her gaze and fell silent under her father’s tirade.

And then she disappeared to who knows where when given the chance.

It was nearly impossible to find her afterwards. The girl was just so small and thin she could fit in the space between the cupboard and the wall back in his home, and trust him, he did search for her in every odd place that crossed his mind, such as the chest in their library and behind a fully open door, squeezed between the wood and the painted pile of bricks. Roy scratched the top of his head as he stood in the middle of the kitchen and glanced around him like she could materialize from thin air at any moment. Where had she gone this time? Did something happen that he wasn’t aware of? Did Berthold get mad at her while he was writing his essay?

It was ridiculous how concerned he felt for her. Maybe it was her personality, or maybe it was her lithe and fragile looks, maybe, and most certainly, it was a mix of the two that had him on the edge whenever she was out of sight for too long, especially when she was in the house. She could be outside, trip and fall and end up with her knee scratched; it sounded much better than being verbally abused by the very man that was supposed to love her unconditionally. Roy shook his head with a sigh and leaned his hip onto the counter, finger rubbing the center of his forehead and lips now tightly pressed together. It was better not to think about that, he told himself, there was no proof that the man really did say awful things besides the occasional snapping.

There was a thud on the upper floor and his legs were moving as soon as his mind registered the noise. Wood cracked beneath him as he shot up the stairs, and once he was at the top he spotted Riza’s figure, outlined by the bright light seeping into the hallway from the window, quietly closing the door of her bedroom. Roy was standing before her in a matter of seconds, looming over her and refraining from grabbing her upper arms in fear that she would disappear from his sights again.

“Where have you been?” He hissed, hoping not to disturb the man in the room across from hers. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Warmth spread across her cheeks, and she cast a glance at the now closed door. “In my bedroom.”

No, she wasn’t there, because he had checked, not that he would tell her that. “Don’t do that again,” he told her in a softer tone, shoulders slumping in defeat. What if one day she ran away and he thought she was simply hiding? Roy suppressed a shiver and followed her downstairs, thinking of what to say next. Riza sometimes had a guilty look on her face whenever he expressed some concern. It didn’t fit her well.

Riza had a book tucked under one arm, he noticed and instantly perked up at the opportunity he had been given. “You’re gonna read?” He hopped off the last step as she nodded her head and hummed in agreement, and he grinned widely at her. “Great! Wait a second.” After a speedy walk to the library that lasted a handful of seconds, he returned quickly to her side with a book of his own and patiently waited for her to pick a place where they could read.

The moment she went out the back door he frowned at her back, but still silently followed her as she approached the tall oak trees at the end of her backyard, fearlessly stepping over the roots and walking deeper into the portion of trees. It was much cooler there and it wasn’t as bright, only few slivers of light slipped through the thick green canopy, highlighting small portions grass and dust that floated in the air. Soon they reached a small clearing, and upon glancing over his shoulder, Roy realized that they weren’t that far from the house, and right across from them a dark blanket was set on the grass, a lonely canteen of water placed over it as its only companion.

He came to a stop and whistled. Riza went ahead towards the dark blanket and left him by the edge of the clearing. He returned from Central just recently and it seemed like during the month they spent apart she had lost some of the familiarity that they built up on the past months. She had been a bit more open before the holidays. Still, he wasn’t too bothered about it, because Roy knew that in a matter of days they’d be back to the stage they were before and would only progress further.

Finally, Roy joined her on the blanket, opening his alchemy book to pick up from where he left off with a little less enthusiasm than he should display before his master’s daughter. Everything about today, from the temperature to his current setting, made him want to lie down and sleep, and he wondered if he would manage to compensate later on some other day if he went along with that mindset. Some birds were chirping nearby and the gentle breeze rustled the canopy overhead, creating a comforting tune as the grass around them danced under the narrow columns of light that made their way through the leaves. Dust swayed in the breeze and sparkled under the bright sunshine like crushed crystal and he knew that if he focused too much on it, he’d be out in seconds. The only way to make everything perfect than it already was would be if there was a creek nearby and the sound of its running water reached their ears.

Riza was slowly thumbing through a book full of pictures that he discreetly tried to decipher from the corner of his eyes instead of reading the material provided by his teacher. Don’t get him wrong, he was trying to study, but the words were blurring together and by the time he reached the end of a paragraph, he had no idea of what he just read and had to start over. The boy hadn’t slept so well due to the essay he had finished mere minutes ago.

Roy set his book down and laid on his back to stretch until his joints popped, then rolled over on his stomach and inched closer to Riza to spy on the drawings on the pages. It was a compilation of instruction manuals to build different objects. There were countless chairs and desks and other different kinds of furniture pieces until pictures of toys took their place. Little trucks and cars caught his attention until they as well were replaced by other kinds of things. Roy observed them halfheartedly until she stopped on a particular page and smoothed it out with a palm.

A slingshot. He couldn’t imagine why she’d want something like that, but judging by the way she was eyeing the pages with much interest, he chose not to question it and figured that he’d find out sooner or later. Roy read along to the instructions as much as his bleary vision would let him, but his eyelids were drooping much too quickly and soon he had his cheek on his crossed arms. The gentle wind played with his dark hair, which only made him feel all the more drowsy.

Scenes from past moments played in his mind until they blurred together and he was dreaming. He could see Riza kneading the dough of a bread she tried to bake from scratch and failing, the product a solid mass that was hardly chewable, and the one time he had helped her tidy up the house by tackling on the library and spending most of the day there because he had insisted on dusting every single book in the room. And then he saw when they sat together in the living room drinking tea in one of the rare days in which rain graced the town of Utwahay.

“Roy?” Her hesitant tone roused him from his sleep and he blinked his eyes, glancing up at her until his vision stopped swimming and he could see perfectly. Just recently, he had managed to get them to first name basis, and still she seemed a little reluctant to do so, because time and time again, she’d told him that her father had raised her to be polite.

The boy smiled slightly in embarrassment at being caught taking a nap and slowly sat up. Bringing a hand up to rub his eyes, he briefly wondered for how long he had been asleep. It could have been hours that felt like minutes, or minutes that felt like hours. All that Roy knew was that her book was now closed and her fingers were playing with a small pebble. “Yes?”

She glanced down at her hand and bit her bottom lip before looking up at him again with less shyness swimming in her brown eyes. “Does it snow in Central?”

Her question was simple and innocent enough, but it struck him with the realization that she never asked about his hometown, and Roy had no idea why. He’d half expected her to ask so many things, because she had never been there much likely, and he doubted she ever left Utwahay. Although her actions sometimes contradicted it, she just seemed like the kind of girl that was curious about things.

“You’ve never been there?” He asked just to make sure and she slowly shook her head.

“Dad says it’s dangerous to leave.”

Roy nodded, but he had to disagree. Considering the situation regarding Amestris’s neighboring countries, Central was one of the safest places to be, alongside the eastern portion. Utwahay was close to Creta and Aerugo, which was not exactly a nice location... But he was not about to tell her that. “I see. It snows from time to time, and when it does it’s about one or two feet. Nothing like the northern cities.”

She nodded slowly and released the pebble so she could wrap her arms around her bent legs. “I’d like to see it.”

“The Snow? Or Central?”

“Both.”

He smiled slightly. “You will. I’ll show it to you.”

Roy knew that Master Hawkeye would never allow Riza to go on a trip with him as her only companion, but still, he made that promise. Even if it took him years, even if he was in his twenties, Roy would come and take her to Central so she could meet his family and visit all the parks, all the nice places and hopefully get to see the city covered in white.

That promise, however uncertain it was, made her smile at him until her eyes creased, and he knew instantly that it was worth it.

#fullmetal alchemist #fma #royai #royai fanfiction #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #fanfiction #mine #collection: convivencia

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