#plus I dont imagine they expected his arms to be bare at any point during filming so whoops :) no one covered the bruises :) :) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingofthewilderwest · 7 years ago

Note

Cor the character meme: Roy Mustang

Bless. You are making me way too happy, prompting me this character. There’s honest to goodness no one I’d rather talk about more than Mustang right now.

Give me a character and I will answer:

Roy Mustang

Why I like them: Frankly, it would almost be better if someone sent me a prompt (hint hint) asking me to list The Top 10 Things I Love About Roy Mustang. But given as I don’t want to make this prompt three hundred dissertations long, I’ll try to be brief…

Roy’s calm, level-headed, sometimes cold disposition is alluring. I love how some of it is his personality, but he uses it as a facade, too, in masterful manipulations and maneuvers. I love when Roy starts acting like a grouchy, six year old child when he bickers with Ed, and I love when he becomes terrifying in anger and vengeance. I love the slip of softness he gets around Riza. I love the unique reason behind his ambition to gain the Fuhrer position: it’s out of a desire to protect everyone around him, a much less selfish reason than one might originally expect given Roy’s outwardly portrayed persona and reputation. As said during the flashback in “The Ishvalan War of Extermination”:

“The power of one person does not amount to much. As such, I will do all I can, however little that may be, to protect those who are dear to me. Those below me will protect those below them. We tiny humans should be able to do that much, at least.”

Now, that’s already a “Wow, damn,” moment, but then I fall into the utmost respect at this remark:

I mean, I get a chilling amount of EXTREME respect when that conversation happens. It’s not that such a trial will be the case that when Roy reaches Fuhrer, but there’s still the notable chance it could happen. Roy’s willingly moving forward to make the country a better place with knowledge it could lead to his death.

And then I have to love how badass Roy is. How much initiative he has. How he still wants a better future but isn’t youthfully idealistic. And I admit I how pretty he is. And two hundred other amazing things about this character.

Why I don’t: Everyone in the English dub did a wonderful job and they’re full of talent. I’m not someone who ever watches dubs anyway, because I feel like getting the original voice actors gets closer to the emotion and intent of a story, because I’m a linguist who loves to experience more than my limited English world, and because I feel like I’m closer to the culture of the story, too. But I will give credit where it’s due that the FMAB English cast was good. Give them applause for their love, effort, and contribution to the fandom, please!!!

This is all about my preference. Most of the voices I’m fine with, but I absolutely cannot watch the dub SPECIFICALLY for Roy’s voice. Like, it makes me want to scream. Not to be mean to Travis Willingham, but his voice timbre is NOT one I’d ever associate with Mustang, and it’s so disjointing to me that I can barely watch five seconds before switching back to my beloved Japanese VAs. I read the manga before watching any of the anime, so I got a strong headcanon about what Roy’s voice sounded like. When I started watching Brotherhood, I literally gaped the first time I heard Shinichiro Miki voice him. This was exactly how I imagined him sounding!!!

Favorite episode (scene if movie): I have to pick one???? FUCK. You know what, fuck that. I’m listing more than one. DEAL WITH IT.

Cold Flame

Death of the Undying

Flame of Vengeance

Sacrifices

Lost Light

A Fierce Counterattack

Favorite season/movie: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. FMAB slightly softens Roy’s character, as it does with some other personalities like Al, by emphasizing a little more of his best side. It’s not that FMAB ever deletes the less glamorous, darker, or more selfish traits of characters, but due to time, it does have to shave off lines. And so we tend to see a slightly more better-tinted Roy Mustang in FMAB than in the manga. His care for his subordinates is brought even more to the forefront. And, in a scene that isn’t present in the manga, we see Roy practicing with his subordinates for information about Ishval so that he can better help the state (whereas in the manga he agrees to help Ishval after the idea being presented to him). Roy’s final words in FMAB are even a lot more considerate than in the manga - in the manga it’s about himself being ambitious, whereas in FMAB it’s about not getting healed until Havoc is healed first.

I mean, I love all flavors of Roy Mustang. But I do admittedly enjoy how FMAB colors him, too.

Favorite line: It’s a statement that somewhat appears only in the manga. As I already mentioned above, the final scene with Roy is rather different in the manga versus the anime, and I like some characteristics of both. This particular line I feel carries so much depth and great applause to his character. Whether Roy has the power to get the presidency or not, he’s talking about what he wants to do most, and what’s ultimately most important: help as many people in the country as possible.

Favorite outfit: Excuse me? All of them???

The military uniform:

The military uniform plus his legendary, omnipresent coat:

I also believe that Mustang has really good taste in fashion when he’s not in uniform? Like, it always looks really good and classy on him.

He’s just cobbled together his jacket plus the shirt under his uniform, still looks awesome:

Like, even when he’s just in hospital garb, it looks good on him and shows off his arms?

There is only one thing that is unacceptable for Roy in the world of fashion, and that’s a mustache. I hate that mustache more than I hate every other hate-able character combined. Kill it kill it kiiiillllllll ittttttt.

OTP: Royai. <3 I always liked Royai, even in high school. There’s much beautifully done about their relationship. You can tell the deep underlying affection between the two of them without “I love you,” kisses, or even much physical contact at all. You can see how dedicated and caring they are to each other, especially when the other is in danger. It’s an absolutely magnificent way to write a romantic pairing. And, honestly, very refreshing, compared to lots of hot, fast-paced, physical romances seen in blockbusters. I much more love this unstated but ever-present tenderness and loyalty between these two.

Lately, I’ve gone from “Like Royai” to “Absolutely love Royai.” To the point that a good friend of mine and I may or may not be writing a fanfiction on this topic. ^.^

We are. We definitely are.

BROTP: Roy and Hughes’ friendship. Such. an. amazing. friendship. I. love. this. friendship.

Headcanon: Roy grays relatively early in life. He hasn’t exactly lived a stress-less life, and especially once he hits Fuhrer, there’s going to be signs of fast aging.

Unpopular opinion: As much as I love Royai, I do agree with Arakawa to not marry Roy and Riza in canon. She said she “can’t get them to marry because of Military Regulations. If they got married, they could no longer stay as superior officer and subordinate.” It’s much more in Roy and Riza’s characters to continue along with the decade-long status quo they’ve created for their relationship, than to enter a new romantic territory.

A wish: Arakawa said that if she wrote one more thing for FMA, it’d be how Roy becomes Fuhrer. Can you please fucking do that Arakawa??? I AM BEGGING YOU. I WANT TO KNOW. I DON’T CARE IF IT’S STICK FIGURES I WANT TO KNOW.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: Nothing coming to mind, given as the story’s complete!

Five words to best describe them: Badass ambitious protective fire colonel

My nickname for them: “This Idiot.” Or “That Idiot.” Basically, a lot of affectionate “Idiot” calling.

117 notes · View notes

juichi-bey · 8 years ago

Text

Blight’s Back Story

Im just gonna add this little thing for @ichiro-artosaki bcuz for reasons. But yeah. Here you go fam ama go sleep. But honestly dont bother reading it if you find it boring cuz honestly its so god damn long.

The origin of who Archer Reynolds, aka Blight, is, begins way before he was even born, and begin with the history of another man, Arthur Reynolds, who would not only become his father... but also his creator.

Arthur Reynolds was a renown genius in the field of genetics. He attended one of the most prestigious univerisites and advances various studies and researches in said fields, greatly contributing to the history of mankind in both medical and scientific ways. The world expected so much of the young genius, that it was a baffling mystery to everyone when he chose to not persue any type of career upon graduating as top of his class, yet the answer was simple. The man wanted nothing more than to accomplish his one and only the goal, the reason he persued genetic so much: To engineer the perfect human being.

As the young student lay dormant inside his tent, he was awoken by the sound of a heavy explosion in the distance, as a bright light filled the dark sky for a small moment. The scientist rushed over, to find a meteor at the location of impact, a finding he would take with him to his lab for analyzing. Upon further studies he’d discover something that he’d imagine would help him reach his goal even faster than he could have imagined: a virus. Of alien origin, the organism was primitive, yet complext and violent. Small, but with great potential, held back only by the lack of resources. The virus had two simple things in mind: Survive, and Expand... And from what Arthur had observed he had certainly done well to survive, being able to remain alive in the vast void of space. He knew, that this what exactly what he needed in order to reach his goals, but the virus was too aggressive, consuming everything it came into contact. He knew that if he was to experiment with it, to engineer the perfect human, he needed a lab rat. If he died, so would his research, along with hopes and dreams. He needed something... someone, who he could take risks on, but also someone who shared his genes, so that he could pick up if the worst came to happen. The logical choice? An heir. A son.

The man was dead set on creating an heir, and being a genetics nerd, he wouldn’t be satisfied with nothing but the best woman to carry his child and pass on the genes. Not only would the child have to be strong physically, he also needed to have a big gene pool, and various variables came into play... but as time and luck would have it, Arthur would eventually find the perfect woman for the job. A carefree young lady, beautiful with golden curly hair, blue eyes, and delicate smooth skin. Surely, someone like her would never want to concieve a child, especially at her young age, even if it was from a rather handsome man, however Arthur gave her an offer she’d find hard to turn down. He offered her a hefty amount of money, in exchange for her uterus. He’d give her enough money so she could give grandly for the rest of her life, and in exchange all she had to do was carry his child for 9 months. The temptation was far too great... and so, she gave in. During her pregnancy though, she suffered through what she would consider her personal hell. Not only was carrying a child tougher than it sounded, she also couldn’t do anything of the things she liked such as dance or drink or smoke, plus Arthur was extremely strict with her diets, and took extreme care of her, something she’d eventually grow attached to, as she found it tender. Time passed, and ever so slightly feelings arose between the two, who spent time together nearly 24/7. At the end of the 9 months, love had been born, and like an ember, it had been kindled into a growing flame. The notion of plans, goals, and deals, long gone before the anticipation of searching for names, guessing the gender, looking for clothes, and all the notions the came with the birth of a baby.

However that wasn’t the end...

Five long years passed, and the young child had grown into a small boy, who the couple, now married, decided to name Archer. But on a fateful night, Arthur was greeted by a fateful nightmare, one where he saw himself, sitting amongst the dark, as his vision for the future had been clouded, his goals long gone before something as idiotic as chemicals and something so primitive like the need to procreate and reproduce. He was a joke to all the greatest scientist to have ever existed. He awoke determined, readied to make his wrongs right, and set back onto the path that was best for humanity.

Around the time Archer reached six years of age, Arthur aproached his wife. ‘We’ll be leaving for a camping trip dear’, he’d explain. Something about Archer becoming a man now, and how it was special bonding between the two. The oblivious mother happily agreed that it was something they should do, and saw the two off, as they drove away, awaiting for their safe return

‘Did you have fun with daddy on your camping trip?’ his mother would ask. ‘I... don’t know...’ Archer would reply confused. At the end of every month, for five days would Arthur take out Archer on their camping trips, and every time his mother would ask, the small boy would reply with the same. ‘I don’t know’ he would say. This went on for an entire year before the sudden dissapearance of Arthur, leaving Archer’s mother devastated, and young Archer without a father for the rest of his life.

The reality of these camping trips were much more darker than what one could imagine. In reality, these trips were, simply put, trips to Arthur’s private lab, where he’d run tests on his son, finally begining to advance onwards towards the goals he so much desired. Through this he figured out that virus inflicted a great amount of pain upon it’s host, and that in order for him to fully implement the pathogen onto it’s host, the victim would have to remain conscious in order to not be completely overtaken by the now symbiote. It was at this point that Professor’s work turned dark, as he was blinded by his own greedy goals.

He begun “catering” his own son to get assimilated, not only to the symbiote, but also... to pain. Each month young Archer would have to endure countless amount of jolts, as his father continued to remind him that this was for the greater good, for the best of humanity, and to be strong and make his daddy proud. He tried, god knows the poor small child, barely even able to comprehend wh his beloved father would make him go through such hell, tried. As much as his little body allowed him, he’d withstand jolts of electricity, burns to the skin, cuts and tearing... all for the sake of his father. Trying to make him proud... but it all proved too much for him, so much that he couldn’t make it past the 3rd day, and he’d run away from his father. Arthur knew, that he needed more time, that just one trip wasn’t enough... so he had to keep Archer quiet, and the safest way to do this? Drugs. A special drug that erased the toddler’s memory, but it’s side effects still unkown. For a whole year Arthur was able to keep this farce up, this horrible secret, to the point where young Archer’s tolerance to pain and physical trauma, was perfect to begin the experiments Arthur had longed for...

The small child, laid against an inclined metal table, held down by the wrists and ankles thanks to metal cuffs, much like a prisoner. His kidnapper? His own father. The man approaches him, carrying a petri dish with a small black smudge on. As soon as the kid spots the dish, his eyes widened, tears accumulating on the corner of his eyes, as he violently begins shaking trying to break free to no avail. He shouts and begs for his father to stop, pleading, calling out for his mother to come save him, But she won’t come. No one will. The man gently passes his hand through the boy’s hair, trying to calm him down, yet an air of hypocresy clung around him. The boy can’t do nothing but watch, as the man takes the small flakey substance from the dish using special pincers and begins bringing it closer towards the flesh of his skin. The young victim at this point is practically paralyzed with fear, his eyes fixated on the man’s slowly moving hand... until the tweezers pressed the thing the boy feared so much against the back of his wrist.

His shouts echo through the entire room as the scientist steps back to watch the horrible scene, taking mental notes of what’s happening, while a video camera records the ominous event, ever so silently watching like an omnipotent presence that is unable to interfere with the ongoing events. The boy tries so desperately to break free, that the cuffs begin cutting his delicate skin, and the dark matter that was pressed against his flesh, begins spreading steadily. An eternity passes in the following minutes, and although the child has stopped moving vigorously, his body still twitches, his small shrill voice now hoarse and tired from all the screaming, yet still shouting, begging for relief, his eyes swollen and red, dry and out of tears... and his arm... Oh god his arm. Black. Dark. Glowing red veins visible through it, pulsating like a hearbeat, and oozing out black tar, with the consistency of oil. A siren starts going off, the scientist turns his back on his subject, heavily focused on the computer. The experiment was a failure, the virus proved to be too agressive. His ideal result was to force the virus into a symbiotic relationship, instead, it desperately try to take control of its host.

The Professor takes out a key from the pocket in his labcoat, jams it into the control pannel in front of him, and a red button pops out. He considers for a small while whether to press it or not, as he eyes the decreasing vital signals on a far away monitor, showing that his own son is dying. He doubts. The he presses it, as the metal table the poor kid rested on, was lowered, an opening on the floor widening, revealing a pool of strange liquid in which the barely conscious child is submerged into. He gargles for a while, bubbles blowing up into the surface of the liquid, as he struggles to breath, a sizzling sound and steam coming from his arm. Soon... he gives in, his struggle ends, and his body becomes limp. At this point the table once again rises, returning to it’s original level, and the hole in the ground closes, as the scientist approaches his experiment. He uses the same tweezers to take the dark matter from his son’s arm, now restored back to normal, and places it back on the dish, before turning back and entering a large white room with a huge mycroscope in the center. The cuffs on the boys limbs loosen, and open up... and much to anyone’s surprise, his eyes slowly open, as his head shift towards the huge glass door where he could see his father observing something so intently. Then... something inpredictacle happens.

A burst of dark from the petri dish. The grown man now lays on the floor. The boy struggles to get on his feet, quickly falling down, as he crawls towards the glass door and uses it as support and finally manages to stand, his small palm against the glass. The man laying on the floor, his back towards the kid. He trembles for a bit, before he suddenly twitches into another position, letting out an extreme scream. He looks towards the glass door, the skin around his left eye revealing to be the same tone as the boy’s arm was a while ago. He tries to get up but quickly falls on all for, as he grunts in pain, and tries to drag himself towards the exit of the room. He tries pushing it open, desperately trying to get himself into the liquid he had submerged his patient priorly... However the door doesn’t budged. His pupils widened, as he slowly and heavily raises his head, to meet eyes with his own son. With this small... frail... and young little boy. He begs for him to open the door, but his stare is indifirent, his expression frozen and uncaring at the sight of the agonizing main writhing in pain. Nothing changes on him. As the man bangs his fist against the glass, the dark pigment on his skin spreading now across his entire face and down his neck.

Now he, much like the boy, and much like a baby, begged for mercy, begged to be let out, to be saved. Yet the boy stood there, staring. Silently, as the muffled screams of his father reached his ears, his banging against the door growing stronger by the minute, and the grip of his fist so tight, that blood trickled down his wrist. The pain was unbearable, he wanted to scratch away his own skin, in hope that it would soothe his agony, yet all he could manage was nothing but beg... and as he looked once more at his young boy... he saw... how his lips curled... into a perfect and sadistic smile. Right there, in front of him, his hand against the glass. Enjoying every single moment of the man’s torture...

Days later, Archer was finally found, unconcious by the side of a highway in the middle of nowhere. It was assumed he walked there after he was kidnapped, however his father was nowehere to be found, never to be heard of. As for the child? His memory was completely gone. Hardly could even tell who he was, and recognize his mother. Amnesia, the doctors said, and with no evidence to follow, the case was soon closed, and the scientist Arthur Raynolds soon forgotten... to all but one person.

4 notes · View notes