@the-blue-eyed-firebender / the-blue-eyed-firebender.tumblr.com
“Equivalent exchange is the foundational law for alchemy. Not for life. You and the General won’t be dying for the crimes you committed. And maybe that isn’t right, maybe that’s not justice, but you aren’t going to right any wrongs by living miserable lives. So quit acting like it.”
When it is done, they should be buried together and without ceremony in the desert sand, Riza thinks. Just as their countless victims had been. Life for life, death for death. Equivalent exchange.
“Marry me, Riza Hawkeye.” Not an order. A question. A plea. “You have been my conscience, my eyes, and my longest friend. Be my First Lady. And when my term is up, just be my wife.”
Random movie still as reference #2 😅 works better when I'm warmed up but also Roy. Roy. Your profile I. Argghhh 🥲
Inauguration Day
STOP THIS IS ACTUALLY AMAZING 🥲
And the subtle scars on the back of his hand ahfjhtfnndksmd
I go to work and I find this Roy Mustang sticker in the drive thru???? Sir what are you doing here???
I keep him :)
“It has a ladder.” Falman remarks, impressed.
(Or: Fuhrer Mustang gifts Hawkeye a bookshelf, and the rest of the Team starts to figure things out.)
Rating: T
Word count: 2.3K
Part 1 of 2
Rules: you will be given a word, and you must share 1 sentence from your WIP/s that starts with each letter in that word! (for dialogue, feel free to include the descriptor as well)
Your word is MOUSE
Thanks for tagging me, @musing-and-music!
All of the following are from my WIP that is currently titled The Bookshelf. It's set in the aftermath of my other story, The Counteroffer.
Mustang was, after all, basking in the afterglow of a tremendous political victory, years in the making. But the young Fuhrer appeared as if he were fresh from a long vacation, not in his first week after assuming the top office in a nation still burdened by decades of corruption.
On the other side of her office, Mustang has built Captain Hawkeye a veritable library. Every available bit of wall space is occupied by floor-to-ceiling shelves, already brimming with tomes.
Unlike the rest of them, she wears street clothes. A white collared button-up shirt tucked into a brown tweed pencil skirt. Her blonde hair is down and swept over one shoulder, instead of up in its usual efficient style.
Strange, Breda thinks, pressing his lips into a firm line. He’ll ask Captain Hawkeye about it the next chance he gets.
“Explain.” The singular word is sharp as a blade. Maybe it isn’t wise of him to take such an accusatory tone with his superior - the leader of this whole damn country - but at this moment, Breda can’t bring himself to care.
This was so fun! Tagging @fullmetalscullyy, @aicasey, @royza-hawkstang, and @starwritingbri. If you guys want to!
Your word is MATCH.
chat drop your fave war criminal in the comments
The bespectacled Lieutenant sputters. “Captain Havoc, I really don’t see the -”
“Spill it.” Havoc snaps at the young officer, causing Breda to sigh at the ceiling. Falman continues his paperwork, unruffled.
Fuery huffs, adjusting his glasses. “I was only mentioning that the Fuhrer ordered some renovations to Captain Hawkeye’s new office.”
That gives Falman pause, his pencil hovering momentarily over the document in his lap. This is news to him, apparently. And he’s been tasked with keeping a diligent record of their expenses, like always.
Breda frowns. “What kind of renovations?”
“A bookshelf.” Fuery replies with a shrug. “Her office is right next to mine. I’ve been listening to the carpenters working all week.” He hesitates warily, glancing sidelong at a steaming Havoc, but continues. "It’s custom-made, according to the invoice that arrived this morning.”
“You’re mad about a bookshelf?” Falman says plainly, finally looking up from his files, brows raised. “Captain Havoc, you don’t read.”
“That’s not the point!” Havoc sputters around the cigarette dangling from his lips. He spreads his arms wide, scowling. “I don’t see the rest of us getting fancy office upgrades!”
Breda leans back against the plush leather of his desk chair, arms crossed. “You know how Mustang is about Hawkeye. They met when they were basically kids. They’ve been through a lot together.” He shrugs, unbothered, and twirls a pen around his fingers. “It’s probably just a ‘thank you’ for all she’s done to get him to this point.”
“I got stabbed!”
-The Bookshelf (WIP, soon to be Part 5 of The Counteroffer Series)
royai fic recs?
Ahhh friend you've read my mind! I actually started making another Royai fic rec post and it's been sitting in my drafts for a couple of days! Thanks for the ask, and enjoy! ❤️
(I keep making these.)
Rating: G
Word Count: 2.2K
Summary: On a night out with the team, Riza's attempts to avoid dwelling on today's date are almost working.
Excerpt: “Stay on beat!” shouts the Colonel while watching their feet, one arm in the air, the other slung over Breda's shoulders, with Havoc at the end of the line. The patrons begin to clap to the rhythm of their footfalls and she watches as the Colonel looks up and around, smiling and glassy eyed, shirtsleeves rolled, jacket discarded, and collar askew, crushed under Breda’s forearm. All three are breathless and rosy cheeked, grinning through their concentration.
“Louder!” he yells at the pub’s revelers, laughing as men begin to bang on the tables and stomp their feet from their seats. They are all going to be in sorry shape in the morning.
My thoughts: A vivid bar scene, a lighthearted moment with the Mustang team, and a lovely, quippy exchange between our two favorites. If you're looking for meaningful fluff, this story really hits the spot. And the song is just *chef's kiss*. It's that good I was fully expecting it to be a real song, not just part of this story. I was highly disappointed when I typed the lyrics into Spotify and nothing came up.
Rating: T
Word Count: 4K
Summary: After telling the Colonel not to perform human transmutation for her sake, Riza finds herself slipping away. She has a conversation with an old friend about life, death, and Roy Mustang. (NOT a major character death fic!)
Excerpt: The man sitting next to Riza felt like he’d been there for as long as she could remember, and yet she knew he hadn’t been for a long time. Time felt more difficult to grasp than ever before. As a sniper, it would warp as her focus narrowed on a target, or in meetings where the speaker felt too self-important to get to the point. Seconds and minutes rarely felt like the allotted times they were supposed to be, but this situation brought an entirely new sensation to time distorting.
Riza sat up to get a better look at her companion. “Maes?”
My thoughts: Gut wrenchingly emotional and poetic, amazing characterization, and the scene this author created was so vivid in my head it was like watching a movie. The dialogue here is poignant and bittersweet, and Maes Hughes is captured so beautifully it's almost painful. Gosh, I love this piece, A+ angst with a happy ending.
Rating: T
Word Count: 2.9K
Summary: A selection of letters exchanged between Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye from 1903 to 1908.
Excerpt: Dear Mister Mustang,
It pleases me to hear that you’re finally getting along with your rival. I must say, antagonizing someone over a piece of quiche is very strange.
My father is well, thank you for asking. Sometimes I hear things in the night–terrible sounds that I cannot explain, coming from the attic where he keeps his office. I have a sense that something is going to happen soon. But sometimes I wish I was an alchemist, so that I might understand him better. You probably think that’s silly. It probably is!
I hope your birthday was fun. Did you do anything exciting? You strike me as someone who enjoys their own birthday very much.
Best,
Riza Hawkeye
My thoughts: This one is a masterpiece, full stop. I've read this one several times, and keep coming back to it. Each letter is a progression of their long-distance relationship, a token of their importance to one another and how it deepens over time. And I love the poignancy of the strikethroughs. Roy's second to last letter absolutely shattered my heart, I actually had to stop what I was doing to absorb the feelings it gave me.
I first found this story by listening to the podfic version by the incredibly talented @klainelynch, who performs it so well. Highly, highly recommend.
Rating: T
Word Count: 3.6K
Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Riza wakes to find that her memories are gone. Her colleagues, best friend and her -surprisingly- very caring superior are there to offer help.
Excerpt: For the second time she locks eyes with the man in the coat.
“What’s your name?” he asks her quietly.
“I-,” she begins. Her pulse thunders against her temple. The man’s eyes bore into hers like he already knows the answer. So she gives it to him, because the realization is too heavy for her to carry alone.
“I don’t remember.”
The room goes deadly quiet.
My thoughts: This is one of the first fics I read in this fandom. It gets rec'd a lot, and for very good reason. This story is captivating right out the gate. I feel like memory loss is a trope often used but seldom done right. This author has done it right.
And this dialogue. THIS. DIALOGUE. Oof it just sizzles. The team's banter. Rebecca and Mustang's bickering. Mustang's gentleness and his suave sense of humor. Perfection, all of it.
The characterization is spot-on, especially for Riza, which is so impressive as she herself doesn't know who she's suppose to be, and yet she still comes across as herself (does that make sense?)
more assorted twitter sketches from the past months lol
tried making a finished version of this pic since i currently cant find it online.
was fun for practice! until i had to draw all the grass
[ID: Digital art of Maes Hughes and Roy Mustang from Fullmetal Alchemist laying in a sunny, grassy field. Both of them have their eyes closed and are smiling. Maes has his arms behind head and one leg crossed over the other. Roy has one hand on his stomach and one shading his eyes. /End ID]
alright but now i envisioned another one with Mustang in the same pose but lying next to Hughes’ grave and imsosorryillseemyselfout 😭😭😭
Rating: T
Word count: 3.7K
Maybe it’s the fact that she’s dropped his honorific.
Maybe it’s the fact that they are somehow both alive. Maybe it’s the fact that he can see her, when he’d believed with such certainty that he never would again. He can see her and she is beautiful, and for once he doesn’t understand why he ever chose to banish that thought from his mind when it is so clearly the truth.
Her fingers tighten on the missive in her hands, crinkling the once pristine parchment as typed letters blur and swim in her vision. She blinks - once, twice - and they become clear again. There is still more to go over. A job to do. A nation to rebuild. “Permission to carry on, Colonel?”
“Very well, Lieutenant,” he responds, his tone taking on a briskness that hadn't been there before. She watches as the cool mask of the Colonel, the Flame Alchemist, slides easily into place, even as Roy Mustang bleeds beneath its surface. “As you were.”
As You Were - Part 2 (WIP)
