#yes i spent the past hour looking through the manga to find good shots from all of the kudou family

[akai-anna]

Hello to Everyone on this Beautiful day, my brain is full of Kudou Shinichi and his cute little nose, his soft features, BIG PRETTY EYES, and the very fact that his looks he mostly inherited from Yukiko.

[existentialspacecowboy]

Deadeye 2: Electric Boogaloo

I added a second chapter to my fic inspired by @5hio’s wonderful royai/fma cowboy AU. What started out as a one-shot may develop into a full fic, as I really do love this! In the meantime, please enjoy this second helping <3

The fic so far is available to read over on AO3 and the second chapter can be read below the cut if that’s more your thing ;)

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2: sunsets and firelight

They’ve been riding for a few hours now.

Atop their respective steeds, and side-by-side, the journey has mostly passed in silence with nought but the sound of hooves against the prairie to disturb the peace.

He’s made casual conversation a few times.

But Riza doesn’t seem all that keen to talk.

It isn’t born out of rudeness, no, Roy instead supposes that she simply isn’t all that used to company.

After all, most gunslingers like her tend to go it alone.

Roy can’t think of anything worse, these few weeks he’s spent alone have been enough hell for one lifetime.

So, he’s glad for her company.

The sun is low in the sky, its orange hue casting shadows across the plains, and bathing them both in evening rays. There’s just something all the more ethereal about watching the sunset from horseback, Roy decides.

And the colour of the sky reminds him of her eyes again.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Roy pipes up, throwing his glance momentarily in her direction before continuing to observe as the sun dips steadily beneath the horizon and out of sight.

He wonders just how many sunsets she’s watched out here alone.

She hums, “We should think about making camp soon. It won’t be long until it’s dark.”

“It is getting cold,” Roy agrees.

She turns her head back towards him, “I think that’s just the alcohol making you feel cold.”

She’s right, of course.

The effects of the alcohol still linger within Roy’s system, even despite the sobering experience of the bar fight. There’s a dull throbbing behind his eyes and in his temples that tells him the morning hangover is going to be killer.

But that’s a problem for the Roy of tomorrow.

They canter for a little while longer, Riza’s dog contributing the occasional bark at its own shadow, before the woman stops suddenly and dismounts from her horse.

“This seems like as good a place as any,” she informs him as she surveys the area with hands poised sharply at her waist.

Roy decides to defer to her judgment. Frankly, he’s not so sure what makes this particular spot any better than the miles and endless miles of dust they’ve already trekked through today, but he’s happy to stop. He’s exhausted, and his own Mustang beneath him is flagging too.

It’s been a long day.

Clambering down from his horse with about as much grace, coordination and dignity that a drunkard can have, Roy successfully manages to get his boot caught in his stirrup.

Overshooting the force required to release his foot, Roy sends himself toppling backwards and he lands with a harsh thud, his back stinging against the ground.

“Ow!” He splutters, choking on the dust his impact kicked up. Escorting a hand behind himself, Roy rubs at the impact site on his back and knows that it’s definitely going to bruise.

He silently hopes that Riza hasn’t just seen him make a complete arse of himself.

She has.

“I’m impressed you were able to stay upright on your horse for the entire ride,” Riza explains, arms full of bundled canvas and bedrolls, with her amusement barely concealed.

“I’ve been way more drunk than this before,” Roy states, wearing it like a badge of honour. He grins up at her dumbly, but she isn’t impressed in the slightest.

“Here,” she says with a curt roll of her eyes, dropping a bedroll down onto Roy’s stomach like a dead weight.

It’s the second time today he’s had the wind knocked out of him, this time his legs shoot comically upwards and curl inwards towards his chest from the bedroll’s impact.

I probably deserved that, he thinks.

Standing to his full height, and pushing the bedroll under his arm, Roy moves to tie his steed to the abandoned fencepost next to Riza’s own. He brushes his palm gently down his horse’s snout, offering her praises and a fuss behind one ear.

Riza has already set about making her tent when Roy strides back over, she’s efficient in its assembly and he supposes it must be second nature for her by this point.

The same can’t be said for him.

Rolling out the bedroll is simple enough, but setting up a tent? Roy’s sure that he doesn’t have enough arms.

And his alcohol addled mind is doing nothing to help the situation.

After what feels like hours of fumbling, and with his head trapped inside the canvas somehow, he feels another pair of hands take the material and help to free him.

“Here, let me,” Riza says softly, impressed by Roy’s enthusiasm, but amused by his failure. “You collect the firewood instead.”

That’s probably a little bit more up to his speed.

A short stroll away from the camp leads him to a babbling stream; on its banks, he finds dried perennial grasses and old branches. He puffs his chest out in victory and gathers arms full of the stuff so that he can make a sufficient fire.

His foraging effort successful, he returns to camp to find Riza proudly stood beside his tent, making the final few adjustments to ensure the structure is secure.

“Thanks,” Roy says with an honest smile, “Found us some firewood too.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says. “Just set it down over there.”

Depositing the wood, leaves and twigs into a heap, Roy reaches into his pocket to extract his lighter.

It’s pure silver, an heirloom from the father he’s never met.

Successfully sparking the fire to life with a flick of his wrist, Roy re-caps the lighter and passes his thumb idly over the initialled engraving.

He only realises he’s been daydreaming when Riza breaks the silence between them.

He realises she’s scowling.

“What was that?” Roy asks, not having heard what she’d said the first time due to his personal distraction.

“I asked if you smoke,” she repeats, voice laced with apprehension as she gestures pointedly towards the lighter, her lip curled in something like distaste.

He laughs, “Only on days with a ‘y’ in them!”

She’s not laughing.

“Well,” she begins curtly, “If you must smoke, I’d rather you didn’t do it in camp.”

Roy blinks, confused, his brow furrowed tightly. Yes mother, he thinks, but he’s able to bite his tongue.

Instead, he nods and simply repockets the lighter, “You’ve got it.”

***

Roy’s stomach gurgles in anticipation, a reminder of just how little he’s eaten over the past few days, as Riza stirs a pot of beans which sits warming enticingly over the fire.

She’s already passed him a bowl; it’s simple, wooden, and nothing like the silverware he’d been used to back when he was a sheriff.

“Should be warm enough by now,” Riza hums, extending her arm outwardly towards Roy.

He passes her the bowl, eyeing her over the top of it with an expression akin to a puppy begging for scraps, as she begins to fill it.

“Please, ma’am,” he drawls, “May I have some more?”

“Idiot,” she says endearingly with a shake of her head. “Fine, you can have another scoop.”

Victorious, and with his bowl piled high, Roy immediately gets to work. Jamming his spoon deep into the bowl, he piles up a hefty portion and pushes it deep into his mouth.

He watches keenly as Riza sets aside a more conservative portion for herself before seating herself down beside him. She has a bottle in hand, too. Roy hopes that it’s something strong. He holds his hand out expectantly.

She scoffs.

“Absolutely not,” Riza scolds. Instead, she tosses him a bota bag. “It’s water-only for you, at least until you sober up.”

Roy whines, catching the bottle and uncapping it before taking a glug. He’s almost forgotten what water tastes like.

They nourish themselves in silence for a while longer until both of their bowls are emptied. She collects his, rises to her feet, and sets them aside to wash in the morning.

Roy wonders if she ever stops thinking about what’s next.

But he also supposes that ignorance is a luxury not afforded by those who call the Wild West their home.

It’s a while before she seats herself beside him again and, when she does, she has another bottle in hand. She sips slowly from it, her focus trained on the flickering campfire.

“You really know your way around out here, huh?” Roy asks, shattering the silence, and keen to know more about her.

“I’ve lived out here almost my whole life. It’s all I’ve ever known,” she explains, casting her sepia eyes over to him.

He frowns, “Have you always been out here alone?”

“Not always,” she sighs after a pause. “It used to be me and my father.”

Her eyes drift back over towards the campfire and stare idly ahead, clear in thought.

He’s clearly prodded on a nerve.

“My aunt raised me,” he interjects quickly, keen to change the subject and regain her focus.

It works. A small smile plays at her lips, a curiousness in her eyes.

“Here, just let me –” He sticks out his tongue and purses it between his lips as he rummages around inside the deep pocket of his overcoat. He finally finds his prize.

In the palm of his hand sits a gold pocket-watch; it shimmers in the dull light of the campfire, the seal of the lion clear on its front. He brushes off the lint and blows on it before he buffs it clean with the corner of his sleeve.

Her eyes are wide when he looks up.

He swallows.

She points towards the watch inquisitively, “Is that gold?”

He nods.

Something like a frown sets about her face again.

“My aunt gave it to me,” he explains.

He supposes it’s entirely likely that Riza may never have seen gold in the flesh before, especially not all the way out here.

He pushes the clasp on the watch with his thumb and reveals the clockface and small photograph inside.

He hands the photograph to her.

“That’s me and, as you can see, I’ve gotten more handsome with age,” he grins.

She chuckles with a shake of her head, her frown dissipated.

Next, Roy jabs a finger at the other figure on the photograph, “And that stubborn battle-axe right there is my aunt.”

“I can see the resemblance,” Riza notes quietly, studying the photograph.

“She raised me. I never knew my folks. They died when I was young. She never told me exactly what happened to them. Said it wouldn’t do any good to know.”

“I’m sorry,” Riza notes apologetically.

He dismisses it with a wave of his hand, “Don’t be. No use mourning parents I never knew, right?”

She hands him back the photograph, nodding her head, a flickering sadness in her own eyes, “I never knew my mother, either. She died having me, so I understand.”

Roy swallows, eyeing her apologetically, “That must be hard.”

She shakes her head, “It’s like you said, no using in mourning, even my father never spoke about her.”

“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I am sorry.”

She nods again, “Thank you.”

He leans to rest on his elbow, looking up at her.

“Hey, who needs blood relatives when you’ve got a horse, a dog, and a drunkard to look after, right?”

Sharp as a tack, she fires back, “Who says I’m keeping you?”

Roy chuckles, “Fair enough.”

At least it made her smile again.

Riza finishes her drink silently and rises to her feet. Dusting herself down, she eyes Roy like a mother scolding a son for staying up way beyond his bedtime. “It’s late,” she says, “And you need to sleep the alcohol off.”

“I’ll go take a leak,” Roy tells her, “Then I’ll head straight to bed.”

She scrunches up her nose and Roy supposes that they don’t know each other quite well enough for toilet humour just yet.

Hayate has joined the woman’s side by the time Roy has managed to drag himself up to his feet; the dog patters obediently inside the tent as Riza holds open its entrance.

He can’t help but smile at the sweet scene.

But he also can’t help but be a little bit jealous.

He’s about to ready himself for bed when he notices that he pauses before entering the tent herself.

She looks to him.

“Goodnight, Mr. Mustang,” Riza breathes softly.

Now, that makes his heart flutter.

He beams, nodding enthusiastically in acknowledgment, “Sweet dreams, Ms. Hawkeye.”

He watches as she disappears out of sight, smiling dumbly and fondly to himself for a few seconds until his brain eventually catches up and rather unhelpfully reminds him that he still really, really needs to pee.

[pagsys-writings]

Got any Sanrai ideas for us? Not sure if you shipped them or not

Hello anon! Sorry I’m just seeing this. So it has been a hot second since I last wrote anything related to Daiya that wasn’t directly connected to my miyunori parent au. And I don’t have anything planned for sanrai but I admit that it is such a cute pairing so I threw something quick together for you anon :) because I love getting messages and what not! But since it’s been so long and I haven’t been keeping up with the manga, I’m sorry if my descriptions of the characters are off ^^;

also I love a flustered, socially awkward, stuttering Raichi mess. Fair warning. So um yes, have this little thing. I’m going to put a cut here because it ended up a little long.

Raichi loved school because it meant he could play baseball with all of his friends. Because that’s what his teammates were now - his friends. The thought always brought a smile to his face.

But school was not like baseball. He wasn’t confident in it. He had to study and work hard just to pass, but it always helped that he wasn’t the only one and he had his teammates to help him. So the schoolwork wasn’t the worst.

What was the worst for Raichi were the classmates that weren’t his teammates and trying to socialize with them. After the hundredth time of failing to get his words out, he’d pretty much decided to stay quiet and keep to himself. It made the moments when his teammates (and Sanada especially) decided to visit his class that much better.

And then there were the dreaded… presentations. Raichi could stay afloat in regard to classwork. But presentations were just another hurdle that Raichi struggled to get over. They were a different kind of breed all together.

He always ended up a stuttering mess with clammy hands and a face flushed in embarrassment. Raichi couldn’t forget the unimpressed looks of his classmates and the frustrated sigh of his teacher before telling Raichi to return to his seat. It was frustrating, embarrassing and the feelings stuck with him long after the event passed.

Sanada knew that too. So when Raichi was given notice that he’d have to present his work, Sanada decided to help. They spent the entire week leading up to the dreaded day preparing and practicing. It took days for Raichi to become comfortable enough to keep from stuttering in front of Sanada.

And Raichi memorized and memorized every word he planned on saying. He could probably recite it in his sleep. So Sanada decided that it was time for one last practice. They gathered the team together in a dorm they set up as a mock classroom.

He thought he could do it. These were his teammates, who always had his back. He could do it… should be able to do it. Yet… as soon as Raichi stood in front of them and all eyes were trained on him, he froze.

The paper in his hands wrinkled under his tight hold. He looked down at the words to find they no longer made any sense. They might as well have been written in some unknown or dead language. All the confidence he had felt just evaporated and Raichi wondered if he had imagined feeling comfortable at all.

It’s no use, he thought and felt as if he’d failed Sanada. After all they’d done together to prepare, he couldn’t even utter a sentence. He couldn’t even remember where to start. Probably his name, but… his mouth felt detached from his brain.

The shut down was inevitable. Raichi lowered his head and stared at the ground. He hadn’t realized tears had started to form until the feet under his gaze began to blur.

“Alright,” Sanada’s voice touched his ears. “Thanks for coming guys. We appreciate it.”

Raichi refused to look up. He heard all the confused mumbles and grumbles. He felt a twinge of guilt run through him. They probably had better things to do then sit and watch Raichi fall apart. And that’s when he heard it. “I don’t understand how he can be so different on a baseball field.” It was mumbled, but Raichi heard it. He didn’t know why either. He wished it wasn’t so different.

The door closed and the room fell into silence. Raichi sniffled and shut his eyes, feeling the tears trail down his cheeks. It was pointless after all.

“Hey.” Gentle hands cupped his cheeks and lifted his face. There were no hints of annoyance or disappointment on Sanada’s face. The only thing Raichi could see was concern. Concern for Raichi. “It’s fine. You did great.”

Raichi shook his head. He didn’t trust his words. His throat felt too constricted to even voice a syllable, and the feeling got worse as Sanada began wiping the tears away, his calloused fingers slightly catching against Raichi’s scar. All he could do was stand there and freeze.

As if knowing what he was thinking, Sanada spoke again. “You stood in front of all our teammates somewhere besides the baseball field. Be proud of that.”

Raichi took in a breath but it was unsteady. “B-but…” But I couldn’t do it, He wanted to say.

Sanada guided him to the bed and had him get under the covers. He wrapped him up in the blankets. Raichi had to admit it made him feel better - safer. He pulled them closer and covered his face. Blocking out the world seemed like a good choice for now.

The silence didn’t even seem so bad.

“They have a point, you know?” Sanada said. Confused, Raichi lifted his head enough to see the other. “If you were playing a game, this wouldn’t be a problem.” Raichi knew that, but what was he supposed to do to fix that? He watched Sanada lean back on his arms. His face told Raichi he was thinking seriously about it. “It would be nice if we could bring the field to you.”

Raichi thought about it and nodded. That would be nice but it’s not like they could actually do that. He reached out and touched one of Sanada’s hands. He ran his fingers over the calluses there. Evidence of how hard Sanada had been working. It calmed him for some reason. “It’s… okay.” He said slowly to get his words out clearly.

And it was okay. He’d just repeat the past. It’s not like his teachers were going to expect something different from him this time. It was fine.

Sanada still seemed pensive as he watched Raichi’s fingers against his hand. And then it was like he realized something. He took one of Raichi’s hands and opened it palm up. His fingers rand across the multitude of calluses and scars from hours of batting practice. Raichi watched him curiously.

“This might not work,” Sanada began, “but I want you to try something tomorrow.” When Sanada looked at him, Raichi nodded to tell him he was listening. “When you get up there and all the people are staring at you.” Raichi felt himself tense at the thought. “I want you to feel your calluses and imagine yourself holding a bat. Think of practice and playing baseball. Maybe it’ll help you relax.”

Raichi nodded it was worth a shot. Sanada smiled and it made Raichi feel a little more at ease. Yet not calm enough to sleep through the night. He tossed and turned. Dreams of classrooms and presentations keeping him from a restful sleep.

By the time he sat in his classroom, he was an emotional wreck. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. Everything his teachers were saying went in one ear and out the other. The only thought Raichi could focus on was the impending presentation.

“Todoroki Raichi.” His head snapped up at the sound of his name. Instantly, he felt every eye in the room turn on him. “It’s your turn to present.” Raichi felt the blood drain from his face. They were already doing the presentations?

Robotically, Raichi stood from his seat, almost knocking his materials to the floor. He heard someone snicker behind him and instantly his face flushed. Holding onto his paper, we walked to the front of the room and glanced at his teacher. She gave him a nod to begin.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He noticed that no one was really paying attention to him. They don’t think I can do this either.

Raichi looked down at his hands. They were shaking and felt colder than usual. He took a small, shallow breath. Looking at his hands, Raichi thought of Sanada and his words of encouragement. If Sanada believed in him then he should believe in himself too.

He closed his eyes and took another breath - deeper this time and thought about holding a bat in his hands. He imagined it weighing his hands down instead of the light paper and felt his shoulders relax. Maybe he could do this.

“Todoroki?” His teacher looked at him. “You can begin.”

He nodded sharply - too quick to be considered natural. “Y-yes!” He yelled a bit too loudly and slightly higher pitched than usual. His teacher seemed surprised and nodded for him to continue.

Turning to his classmates, Raichi looked down at his paper and began. He watched confusion and surprise appear on all of their faces. He felt hot and cold at the same time as he stuttered through most of the areas of his presentation, but he was getting through it. The nerves were threatening to take over but he continued to remember the feeling of his calluses and what made them. He could do it.

When he finished, he felt lightheaded like he was seconds from passing out, but he held it together. He barely registered his teacher offering congratulations as he wobbled back to his desk. His classmates continued to stare at him but for different reasons than expected.

Once seated, he stared at his paper as the next student took his place.

He did it. 

He really did it.

And the only thought besides that was that he had to tell Sanada because it was thanks to him that he managed to complete it.

Before he realized it, the chime signalling the end of class and beginning of lunch rang through the school. Raichi watched as all of his classmates put their things away in their bags. Some pulled out homemade lunches while others left the room to find the cafeteria.

Raichi waited a second before realizing that meant he could leave. He could find Sanada. He hastily packed his bag and left it at his desk. Moving as quickly as he could without bumping into his classmates, Raichi made it to the door.

He had every intention of finding Sanada, but Sanada must have had the same idea because he stood just across the hall. When he saw Raichi, his face became worried. “Hey,” he said as his eyes looked over Raichi, looking for signs of distress, “how did it-”

Raichi took three quick strides and pressed his face into Sanada’s chest while wrapping his arms around Sanada’s torso before the question was even finished. “Raichi, are you okay?” His voice was filled with concern as he wrapped Raichi in hug.

Raichi nodded against Sanada’s shirt. He felt all the nerves and stress leave his body like Sanada was able to absorb it for him. When he felt well enough, Raichi looked up at the other’s worried face and grinned. “I- I did it!” He exclaimed happily.

A bright smile spread across Sanada’s face as he gave Raichi a tight hug in response. “That’s great! I knew you could do it!”

Closing his eyes, Raichi leaned into Sanada’s hug. He almost felt as happy as he would be playing on the baseball field. And then he felt something warm touch his forehead. It was brief and when Raichi opened his eyes, he saw Sanada pulling away. 

He felt his face flush before glancing around to find the hallway empty or at least no one paying them much attention. So he quickly pressed his face back against Sanada’s chest, finding comfort of the weight of the hug. He smiled as the sound of Sanada’s laughter reached his ears.