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#that was sort of a love letter to mustangs
shanastoryteller · 3 months
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Happy Holidays! ❄️❄️ more from What They Expect please! I love that AU!
continuation of 1 2 3
It’s been well over a year since she’s seen Mustang. Al’s all aflutter about it, and how puberty has her looking like something other than a twelve year old boy, but she’s really not worried. Mustang is so involved with his own shit that he doesn’t have the time to care about hers. It would be a damning quality if it wasn’t exactly what she needed from him.
She is, sort of, a little bit worried about Riza. Not worried as in she actually thinks something is going to happen, but just that if anyone out of Mustang’s little idiot brigade would figure her out, it would be her.
Maes is a distinct possibility, but also not really. The thing that saves her, always, is that no one’s really looking. She’s loud and flashy and angry and no one thinks she’s too short to be a guy because of how sensitive she is about it and no one notices she’s pretty because they’re too busy dealing with her being mad and scowling and, with these guys, she’s got an extra ace up her sleeve.
They think they already know all her secrets.
They know about human transmutation and binding her brother’s soul to a suit of armor and every questionable and terrible thing she’s done since in her pursuit to fix it.
Why the hell would she be lying about her gender? It’s not even a thought in their heads, and if it ever becomes one, they’ll dismiss it before he even has a chance to.
Eden binds her chest tight extra tight, so her chest is nearly flat, and puts on her baggy tank top and giant red coat that hides the way her hips curve and the giant stompy boots that she really does love, sets her face in a familiar scowl, and goes off to war.
If war was child’s play, that is.
“Where have you been?” Mustang demands, towering over her and nostrils flaring.
Well. Sort of towering over her. She must have had a growth spurt, because he’s really only got a couple inches on her, which is sort of hilarious. She hadn’t noticed that he was short before. “Uh, lots of places. Haven’t you been reading my reports?”
She does not laugh in his face at the way his eyebrow ticks. She spends so much time meticulously writing everything down in dedicated code in her travelogues, she really doesn’t have the energy to spare when she gets to her reports for Mustang. Besides, he doesn’t really care what she’s doing, only that it’s big and flashy enough to distract from whatever he’s doing.
Is she supposed to know that? She can’t remember. But it’s so obvious that it doesn’t feel like something that can be a secret.
Then again, the rest of the brass haven’t caught on, so.
“What were you thinking in Liore?” he snaps.
Eden blinks. “Liore? That was forever ago. Did something happen? Rose didn’t mention anything in her last letter.”
“Yes, Edward, it was forever ago, but since you declined to answer my summons to come here and explain yourself, we’re discussing it now,” he says.
God, she’d forgotten how bitchy he gets. “Okay, well that priest guy was pretty strange-“
“I don’t care about the priest!”
She stares. She had to kill the guy twice and he doesn’t care? Honestly, she thinks it’s sort of memorable.
“What were you thinking messing with that river?”
Ed tilts her head to the side. “You’re upset about the river?”
He glares. “Of course I’m upset about the river!”
She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Al’s really worried over nothing.
Mustang is never paying attention to the right things.
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sassydefendorflower · 9 months
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To survive the AO3 down time, want to write about Al sending letters to Ed while he's traveling to Xing? (Bonus points if Ed's doing something interesting too ^^)
Hi :D I don't know if this is what you imagined when you sent me this ask... but I had a surprising amount of fun with this! So... here goes nothing <3
+-+-+
Dear Brother,
It’s so good to hear from you! Who knew West Aerugo could be this interesting? Just don’t drink too much – and tell Darius and Heinkel that I miss them too! As for how I am doing… Xing is a lot more different than I expected it to be. From what I can tell, people just aren’t as tall as I’m used to – and that even though I am no longer as tall as I used to be! Ling invited me to stay at the palace, but I don’t think court life is for me. At least not yet. I joined a caravan to the northeastern part of the country instead, pretending I don’t know that Lan Fan is following me. The food is utterly delicious, and one of the old men in my group told me that the Tsang clan has developed a type of alkahestry that allows them to grow trees taller than some mountain peaks. It might be worth checking out.
Until your next letter reaches me
Alphonse
~
Brother,
Why did Brigadier General Mustang sent me a telegram informing me you started an international conflict on the Beruskan border? I don’t care how interesting their research is and how nice their pubs, we’re no longer the kind of people who just start chaos and let someone else deal with it. I hope this letter finds you in good health and not in a jail cell – and please excuse my language in the telegram I’ve send ahead. I love you, you idiot.
Alphonse
~
[Telegram sent on the 12th of December 1923 from Xio, Tsang Territory of the Great Imperial Nation of Xing, to Balka, Aerugo-Beruskan border facility]
YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING IDIOT .stop. IF YOU GET ARRESTED I WILL .stop. PERSONALLY HUNT YOU DOWN .stop. YOU BETTER NOT BE IN .stop. ANY TROUBLE
~
Brother,
While I am glad to know that you are no longer held by Aerugan officials on suspicion of terrorism and counterintelligence, I do beg of you to lay low for a while. My blood pressure won’t stand for another incident like this. But while you were busy arguing for better accommodations in a jail cell, I did uncover something interesting. The Tsang clan has grown trees big enough to build houses in. The stories weren’t lying – this has to be some sort of alkahestry. But it feels different from the things Mei taught me. Oh, which reminds me: I finally figured it out! I can read the Dragon’s Pulse – and these trees are bursting with life’s energy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it feels almost magical.
Best wishes and happy returns
Alphonse
~
Dear Brother,
Yeah, that’s why I said ‘if I didn’t know better’ – I am aware that magic isn’t real, you didn’t have to scream at me for half your letter just to make a point. Then again, it is in character for you to make a big deal out of something so small. (please don’t waste your next letter on another rant just because of a little joke between brothers) I think I’m going to move on from the Tsang territory over to the Ang clan – there’s been some unrest because of the policies Ling implemented recently, so I might have to travel by foot. Don’t worry if I don’t write for a bit. Address your letters to Lan Fan and she’ll get them to me once I settle down again – I’ll tell you my next mailing address as soon as I know where I’ll be staying.
Tell Winry I said Hi!
Alphonse
~
Ed,
It’s okay. It was just a tiny bit of poison. I’m fine.
Alphonse
~
Dear Brother,
If you come to Xing just to be an overprotective idiot following me around, DON’T. Please stay where you are – I have everything under control. I need to finish my research here. I think I’m getting somewhere. I can’t tell you via my letters because I fear someone might read them along the way and realize what I’ve just figured out but… this could change the world. Not that I actually plan on ever telling anyone just how far the scope of this reaches. Not even you. I hope you can understand why I am doing this. And don’t worry for my life – Mei joined me on my travels and her fighting skills are beyond what I could have hoped for.
Love
Alphonse
~
Brother,
The Ang Clan was very welcoming, and their food was otherworldly, but I don’t think we’re going to stay here for much longer. The more I look into the Dragon’s Pulse and its possible connection to tectonic movements, the more confusing it gets. I meant what I said in my last letter – but maybe I don’t have to worry quite as much. There is a very real possibility that the two of us might be the only people who could ever even understand what is happening here. By Truth, life is just a never-ending quest of wonders, isn’t it?
Take care.
Alphonse
~
[Telegram sent on the 26th of April 1924 from the Imperial Palace, Great Imperial Nation of Xing, to Munk, Hala Territory east of Creta]
I AM SO SORRY EDWARD .stop. BUT WE’VE LOST CONTACT .stop. WITH ALPHONSE .stop. SOMEWHERE BETWEEN NANNING .stop. AND LIPU I AM SO .stop. SORRY YHELY
~
[Collection of unsend letters by Alphonse Elric]
Ed,
I don’t think I’ll get a chance to post this letter. Someone’s following me and Mei. I told her to get back to the palace or make contact with Lan Fan, but it might be too late. There’s something going on with alkahestry here – I think it’s only happening in the northeastern part of the country. It’s nothing like what we went through, I promise, but in the wrong hands… it could kill thousands. I am so sick of this art we’ve dedicated our lives to being used to ruin it instead. They could heal and flourish, but no… you know what the worst part is? I’m the one who discovered how to use it as a weapon.
I love you. I miss you.
Alphonse
[and]
Ed,
I think they’ve got Mei. What am I supposed to do? I don’t know. Dammit, I won’t send this letter, but at least it feels as if I can talk to you. As long as I write it down, you’re not gone – what did you say you were doing the last time we’ve talked? I think you were in Munk. Isn’t that a seaside town? Do you think there is alchemy connected to the sea? The tides? That would be insane. Is that what you were researching? I hope it went well. You can’t even swim, idiot. I hope you didn’t drown.
I miss you.
I miss Mei.
I think I messed up.
Al
[and]
Ed,
They won’t get me. And they’ll pay for whatever they did to Mei. I’m getting her back. I’m doing what is right.
Please don’t hate me for this.
Alphonse
[and]
Ed,
They won’t be a problem any longer. I took care of them. I’m so sorry. I did what I had to do to survive. But now blood is staining parts of the Duyun forest, and only some of it is mine. I won’t ever tell you this in person, but this is my confession. I broke our oath – I hope I can make it up to you by coming home.
Al
~
[Telegram sent on the 5th of August 1924 from the Imperial Palace, Great Imperial Nation of Xing, to Kanda, Independent Republic of Ishval]
WE FOUND ALPHONSE .stop. OR RATHER HE FOUND US .stop. BLOODY AND THIN .stop. BUT ALIVE PRINCESS .stop. MEI IS WITH HIM . stop. THEY ARE ALIVE YHELY
~
Dear Brother,
Thank you. Thank you for traveling all the way to Xing. Thank you for waiting for me. Thank you for being there for me when I came back. Thank you for listening. Thank you for leaving. Thank you for letting me keep some of my secrets.
I love you.
Alphonse
~
Dear Brother,
I think I might take on a journey across the ocean – just to see where the world ends, and the future begins. There are so many secrets out there still left to discover. So many things unknown. I’m definitely writing it all down. At least the good stuff. The things we can use to change the world for the better. And I do think that it’s possible – for things to get better, that is. I won’t be gone forever. In a few years I might just be ready to play politics at the court next to Mei and Ling. But until then? I crave another adventure.
Best wishes
Alphonse
.
..
.
Hey Al,
Mind if I join you?
Ed
[send me a prompt/snippet request while ao3 is down]
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beesbeesdragons · 7 months
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hi!! i know you love history so i wanted to ask if you want to share any special cultural headcanons about amestris that are inspired by the historical setting? i know that’s a super broad question but hopefully it makes sense :)
YESSSSS!!!!
ok first! Amestris is a military dictatorship, so it makes sense that it would have restrictions on certain activities or things such as education and the entertainment industry (film, radio, music, etc etc). it probably also has censorship, both in news but also in actual letter writing. i'm exploring the topic of censorship in From The Desk of Dorothy Mustang a bit, both in the media (specifically radio) and in letters.
second!!! fashion!!! Amestris is definitely the kind of country where you don't waste materials, not if you can avoid it. hence, most of their fashion styles are rooted in practicality. in my fics, i'm writing them as having 1940s fashion, so utility suits, patching clothes, revamping old out-of-fashion clothes, carpetbags, etc. Ngl will probably end up posting a work specifically about my research and with visual inspiration for the clothing i mention.
third, food. Amestris doesn't...have the best trade relation with most of its neighbours. hence, there's probably a fairly limited amount of 'exotic' foods, and it's probably SUPER expensive or limited to the military. You might notice later in my fics that the only sweets they really mention are all hard candies, such as rock or candy drops. They don't have chocolate, and probably not 'tropical' fruits like pineapple, banana and mango. This would affect the kinds of food people eat; most people would eat offal because it's cheap and you can get creative with it. for farmers or the folks in towns like Resembool, they probably all have small veggie patches and maybe chickens. Almost everyone in towns like Resembool would also know how to pluck a chicken, how to make sausages, etc. Just practical skills, you know?
Fourth, they definitely have some sort of 'youth group', similar to scouts. Gotta get the kids involved, right? it'd provide practical skills, for girls probably homemaking skills such as sewing, darning clothes, cooking, etc. It has the added bonus of, should Amestris be invaded or at war, they have an easy way of sending messages! (that is based off how the British army used girl guides as messengers during WW1 because boy scouts were considered too unruly). This also loops back to the control the military has on education; they control the curriculum, the examinations, the entire education system.
that's all for now but I have more!!!!!
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cowboyshit · 3 years
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i just want adam to get that community number thing so i can send him links to all the wild horse stuff i follow and introduce him to the mustang side of social media because i think he’d really dig it and also hopefully gush with me about the horses 🥺
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sword-dad-fukuzawa · 2 years
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2021 watchlist review
So, just to finish putting 2021 behind me, here are the top anime I watched last year in no particular order. Also, I felt like talking about them. Long post ahead.
Full Metal Alchemist (both Brotherhood and 2003)
I loved both, but they're very different anime. '03 is a war story; FMAB is a battle anime that features war. If I had to make a value judgement, I'd say I enjoyed '03 better (though I did watch it before FMAB) but FMAB has more rewatch value, if only because '03 needs to be watched more or less in order and starting from the beginning makes it better.
I liked the way '03 characterized Mustang and Kimblee better out of the two; FMAB had the more satisfying and better paced ending. Also, FMAB has Ling Yao. I will always love FMAB for simply having Ling Yao. '03 wins in the "making me feel things category" because I really loved how they handled the origin of the homunculi and the story it tried to tell about human arrogance; FMAB wins best romance because I will never get over Mustang and Hawkeye, especially in the episode where they fight Envy for the last time. Jean Havoc remains my beloved no matter the adaptation.
I'd say FMA is one of those anime that was just, as a whole, extremely well-written and animated. I continue to have very mixed feelings about Roy Mustang.
Mars Red
I love this anime a normal amount, I swear. This is totally not my favorite anime of this year hands fucking down, no sir. I totally do not think about all of the characters from it daily.
.../s
MDZS Season 3
NO THOUGHTS ONLY HOW MUCH I LOVE a. WangXian, b. Xue Yang, c. the way they adapted Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao. I am very sad about how it's over, and I'm also very sad about how dirty they did Jiang Cheng, but everything else about it is glorious.
Interspecies Reviewers
I'M STONE COLD SEROUS WHEN I SAY INTERSPECIES REVIEWERS BEATS A LOT OF NON-ECCHI ANIME OUT OF THE PARK. If you're okay with seeing tits during a slice of life fantasy anime that talks frankly about sex and BDSM and is also genuinely hilarious, go watch it. It's so good.
Dr. Stone
I am very much a raging science nerd and let me tell you, this has got to be my favorite of all the ways science gets portrayed in anime. Dr. Stone is so obviously a love letter to STEM--it shows science as something hopeful and exciting, and the people who love it as all sorts of folk. It's hilarious, heartwarming, and incredibly entertaining. I binged this one in a few days.
AND SCIENCE PORTRAYAL ASIDE? THE FRIENDSHIPS N THS ANIME SOMEHOW MAKE "uwu power of friendship deus ex machina" CONVINCING. I love it.
Jujutsu Kaisen
I usually try to stay away from anime that gets a lot of hype, but man, Kaisen lives up to it. The animation is great, the characters are genuinely so loveable, and sometimes I look at Team Gojo and think that this is what Team Seven could have been. It's a little bit too big brain for me sometimes, especially the power system, but it's lovely all the same.
Hakata Tonkatsu Ramens
Got recommended this by @electrick-indigo! It's, like, what if you took found family and then did found family in a setting where murder is just...a thing that happens regularly. I adore the main character, and he's gnc as fuck. Plus the whole anime has the vibes of BSD in its earlier arcs, which I love and adore.
Promare
COMFORT MOVIE COMFORT MOVIE COMFORT MOVIE
It's a surprisingly nuanced look at societal oppression wrapped up in pretty neon colors and mecha battles. And gay. There's so much gay. I adore this movie.
Umibe no Etranger
It's an extremely good movie about two queer dudes falling in love, and the manga sequel "L'etranger du Zephyr" is just as good. I am just...very attached to Mio and Shun. They do a good job of realistically portraying queer romance and the way relationships can evolve over time, particularly in the sequel. No complaints about this one.
Heaven's Official Blessing
It's very soft and is my favorite brand of supernatural mystery solving. Like, In/Spectre wishes it had romance and mystery this good.
The Way of the Househusband
It's hilarious and a really good pick-me-up.
Dragon Pilot
Ah yes, a cute anime about girls that pilot dragons by getting vored. It does not make more sense in context. Watch it anyway because all the characters are so endearing.
Horimiya
A romance anime that I really enjoyed! It's just teenagers being cute and in love!
Fuse: Memories of a Hunter Girl
This one is an interesting story about furries and a girl with a bazooka. It feels a little bit like a fever dream, in retrospect.
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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years
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Writers Month Day 24: Letter/Fake Relationship Word Count: 514 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: K/G Characters: Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye Warning: NA Summary: There are rumors about this “Elizabeth” that Mustang keeps calling. Notes: This prompt was just too perfect for this, really. AO3 || ff.net
_______________________________________
 Letter/Fake Relationship
 Every so often certain types of letters would arrive for one Colonel Roy Mustang. They were usually in white envelopes, with a woman’s loopy cursive writing on them, and smelled faintly of lavender. Sometimes they came with a ribbon around them, or a stamp on the back. The stamp was usually of flowers, but there had been other designs in there as well. But all of the letters, no matter what decoration was on the outside, were all from the same woman.
Elizabeth.
No one knew who Elizabeth was. No one had seen her or could describe her. People had heard her voice before, knew she ran some sort of shop, but no one was entirely sure who the woman was. For some reason, she kept talking to Mustang, even though she had to know he was dating other women, and for some reason, Mustang kept going back to her, even with all of the other women he dated. Why, was a mystery that was discussed.
Some said that Elizabeth was in love with Mustang, and that was why she stayed with him. Others said that it was Mustang who was in love with Elizabeth. He just hadn’t completely figured it out yet and Elizabeth was waiting for him. Others claimed that there was no Elizabeth—it was just a code name for any girl he wanted to talk to. Some rumors said that it was actually his secret wife. Others claimed it was actually a high-ranking female officer, or the wife of a high-ranking officer, and Elizabeth was her code name. (In that rumor, bets were on the wife of a high-ranking officer, because no one could see General Armstrong bowing to Mustang’s foolishness).
Whatever the reason and the relationship, though, the letters came for him, and he glowed with glee each time he received one. He usually shoved all other paperwork to the side, much to the annoyance of his adjunct, and would pen her a letter back. How he wasn’t dead yet from the stone-cold looks Lieutenant Hawkeye would give him as he handed her a reply to post, no one knew.
But this strange, secretive relationship stayed throughout the years.
Elizabeth seemed to fade away as Mustang got closer to fuhrership. She became less of a romantic contact and more of a friendly one. Letters still came, but the embellishment seemed to die down. By the time Mustang was Fuhrer, she had all but vanished, and his romantic attention had turned more and more obviously towards Hawkeye, who returned it—something that either surprised people to a great degree or didn’t surprise people to a great degree.
And the rumors still abounded.
But for the handful of people who knew who Elizabeth was—not that they’d ever admit it—everything was as it should be. Especially when one day Catalina turned up with a stationary kit that she claimed a lady named “Elizabeth” had given to her, claiming she had no need of it anymore.
Catalina used it to write out Mustang and Hawkeye’s wedding invitations.
And they were perfect.
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kathrynalicemc · 3 years
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Harry Potter Golden Era MC Profile
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Identity
Name: Mariko Krei
Gender: Female
Age: 16 (year 6)
Birth Date: April 2nd, 1980
Species: Human
Blood Status: Half Blood
Sexuality: Lesbian
Ethnicity: Japanese/Caucasian mix
Nationality: Japanese, American, British
Residence: Cambridge, England
The Mage
Wand: Beech wood, Phoenix feather core
“The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond his or her years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. Such wizards and witches, having obtained a beech wand without having been suitably matched (yet coveting this most desirable, richly hued and highly prized wand wood), have often presented themselves at the homes of learned wandmakers such as myself, demanding to know the reason for their handsome wand’s lack of power. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry rarely seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation.”
Animagus: None
Misc Magical Abilities: Talented in wandless magic
Boggart Form: Being all alone without a family
Riddikulus Form: All her family and friends suddenly jumping out from hiding places and yelling surprise
Amortentia: Tea, parchment, rain, cherry blossoms, a perfume that seems familiar that she can’t place
Patronus: Red Crowned Crane
Patronus Memory: Walking down a street in Japan as a child with her father as cherry blossom petals fall all around her, with vague blurry shapes of two other people nearby
Mirror of Erised: A hazy silhouette of what looks like a woman and a teenage boy who she doesn’t recognize
Specialized/Favourite Spells: She loves practicing wandless magic in combination with her martial arts skills. Specifically using wingardium leviosa to make leaves and flowers float in the air. She does it as a sort of meditation
Appearance
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Faceclaim: Sakura Heffron
Game Appearance: N/A
Height: 5’9”
Physique: Tall, athletic, graceful
Eye Colour: Brown
Hair Colour: Black
Skin Tone: Pale
Body Modifications: She has freckles mainly on her nose and a few on her cheeks.
Scarring: N/A
Inventory: Some Japanese ink brushes she uses instead of quills, her wand, keys to her 1966 Arcadian Blue Mustang (when old enough), a tiny cherry blossom branch encased in resin she can’t remember when she got, biker jacket
Allegiances
Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw
Mahoutokoro House (if she went): Shunrai
Affiliations/Organizations:
Hogwarts
Dumbledore’s Army
Professions: unsure yet
Hogwarts Information
Quidditch: Keeper
Extra Curricular: Chess club, Frog choir, Martial Arts
Favourite Professors: Flitwick, Mcgonagall
Least Favourite Professors: Snape obv
Relationships
Father: Dorian Aloysius Krei
Fc: Robert Downey Junior
-Half Blood wizard
-Works as a Chemistry professor at various Muggle Universities
-Has taught in Japan, San Francisco, England
-A huge nerd
-Kind and goofy
-Supportive of his daughter
Mother: Ume Nakai
Fc: -
-Pureblood
-House: Seiran
-Works as a Samurai/Hit Witch for the Japan Ministry
-Uses magic and martial arts to track down and handle dangerous dark arts users
-Upholds the Japan Ministries Codes: Don’t use dark arts, don’t break the statute of secrecy
-Very skilled in martial arts
-Protective of her family
Brother: Jomei Nakai
Fc: -
-House: Yosamu
-Older than Mariko by 10 years
-Decides to join his mother as a Samurai/Hit Wizard when he graduates Mahoutokoro
-Gentle and intelligent
-Good at reading others emotions
-Looks after his mother because he knows she misses her husband and daughter
-Good magic dueler
Love Interest: Luna Lovegood
Dormmates: Padma Patil, Sue Li, Cho Chang
Pets: A bowtruckle she found in a tree by the lake. She named it Kijin meaning tree spirit
Closest Canon Friends: Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Fred & George
Closest MC Friends: Lara Fairbourne, Mal Ridley, Aimee Alice
Background/History
Dorian Krei got a job as a Chemistry professor at Tohoku University after graduating from Ilvermorny. He was interested in alchemy but wanted more knowledge so he decided to get a Muggle job and education. Living in Japan he eventually met Ume Nakai and after a few years they got married and had Jomei. Ume was the Japanese equivalent of a Hit Witch. Her job was dangerous and their family was usually at risk from vengeful dark wizards. They decided it was best to not have any more kids. However, 10 years later they accidentally had Mariko.
Disaster struck when Mariko was 6. In the middle of the night a Dark Wizard that Ume had arrested broke out of prison and into their house. He tried to kill the family but Ume and Jomei fought him off, being forced to kill him in front of Mariko and Dorian. Afraid it would happen again, Ume tells Dorian to take Mariko and move away to protect them as Dorian isn’t a fighter and Mariko is too young. Jomei refuses to leave his mom all alone and decides to become a Hit Wizard as he had just graduated from Mahoutokoro and was a very good fighter.
Mariko was too young to understand and was very upset when told she had to leave with her dad so Ume obliviated her memories of herself and her brother. Dorian was against this and tried to argue but Ume said it would help protect her. Dorian moved back to his hometown San Francisco and transferred to the University there. He raised his daughter as if her mom had died when she was a baby. He despised lying to her but knew she was happy and healthy. Before Mariko turned 11, Dorian got a job offer at Cambridge and they moved to England. Mariko started school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 1991, the same year as Harry Potter.
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Personality
-She’s very kind and warm to people
-Curious of the world around her
-Intelligent and seeks to learn new things but doesn’t like to show her intelligence off
-Helps others
-Will fight for her freedom to choose and have control of her own life
-Admires her father but doesn’t want to take over his business
-Won’t be told how to be or what to like
-Loves excitement and adventure which can get her in trouble
-Feels like she needs to keep her dad happy because he’s sometimes quiet and sad
-Active and trains her body as well as her mind
Misc
-Mariko means “truth”
-Mariko names her bowtruckle Kijin. Ki means “tree” and Jin means “spirit”
-She’s born in April when cherry blossoms bloom
-She was brought up bilingual and knows both English and Japanese
-Mariko can see thestrals and it scares and intrigues her because it means she has seen death she doesn’t remember
-She doesn’t know that Dorian and Ume keep in contact with letters
-She will eventually run into her mom and brother during the Battle of Hogwarts and have her memory restored
-Dorian and Mariko use Dorians last name while Ume and Jomei use Umes last name
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dameafterdark · 3 years
Text
Fanning the Flames [Roy Mustang x Black Femme Reader]
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CW: workplace sex, oral sex, vaginal penetration, blow job, body worship, pubic hair, making out, light femdom, tickling, enthusiastic consent, boss/employee relationship, semi-public sex, porn with plot, BBW reader
WARNING! The contents of this fic are NSFW! Read at your own risk!
word count: 5769
summary: After transferring to Central Command, you’re determined not to let a certain smooth-talking colonel distract you from your job duties.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You never could have imagined meeting a man like him when you walked through the doors of Central Command. But then again, trivial things like infatuation and love making were the last thing on your mind. Bright eyed and eager to impress, what mattered most to you were your ambitions. You didn’t have time to fool around with romance; a cushy job in Central was everything you could have hoped for as a fairly new recruit. And besides, the higher ups didn’t look too kindly upon fraternizing. 
You had heard of the twenty-something aspiring general long before you sent in your letter of acceptance, but didn't think much of him. You learned long ago not to get involved with military gossip, especially the kind that involved sleazeballs like him. You know, the type of man that flirted with anything on two legs with a pretty face. You barely liked guys on a good day, so you were certain you’d have no trouble rejecting his advances. Lay low and work hard was the motto you repeated to yourself every morning as you ironed your uniform.
Unfortunately, your name was on everyone’s lips before you had the chance to introduce yourself. It couldn’t have been avoided, and you were naive to think it could. Being the only non-native Amestrian in the Central forces was mostly to blame, but you figured your looks also had something to do with your sudden popularity. After all, you were below average height, and your round curves rivaled the thin waifish figures of most Amestrian women. It definitely wasn’t the “ideal” body of a soldier, but that never stopped you in the past. Your brown skin, head full of tight curls, and full lips were impossible for others to ignore. You demanded attention whenever you entered a room, whether you wanted it or not. 
And as soon as the two of you made acquaintances, you knew something was bound to happen eventually.
From the moment he uttered that first sultry “Hello” and took your gloved hand in his, kissing the back of it like he was some sort of prince out of a fairy tale, your heart decided on its feelings faster than your brain could process. He pushed the knife in deeper with a little coy smirk that made your breath hitch and your stomach tighten.
“(Y/N), at your service,” you stated, doing your best to hide the tremor in your voice. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Colonel Mustang.”
“Please,” he said as he let go of your hand, his eyes never leaving your own. “Call me Roy.”
Those four little words sparked the first ember, and from then on you walked with fire in your chest and heat pressed against your cheeks. And no matter how often you dampened those flames, they always reignited into an inferno.
You weren't the one to give into your primal urges, though. You were a professional, for God’s sake, and after clawing your way up through the ranks you’d be damned to throw away years of hard work for a pair of bedroom eyes. Especially when so many others only saw your job offer as an Affirmative Action-esque handout. 
It’s not worth it, you’d mumble under your breath while sorting through piles of paperwork, doing your best to avoid meeting the colonel’s gaze as he sat across the room from you. Knowing what might transpire if you did. For weeks you daydreamed about making that connection with those steely grey eyes that followed your shapely figure wherever you walked, most likely imagining what was underneath. Truthfully, you wanted him to want you. You desired to be desired by the man that tossed out flirtatious remarks right after another, remarks you pretended to hate yet secretly made you giddy. Steely eyed with a boyish charm, he was 100% your type. And you had no idea what to do about it.
At first, you resisted him under the pretense of “work professionalism” and your “commitment to duty”. Sure, you'd play with him a little every now and then just to watch him squirm. Pursing your lips in the shape of a kiss whenever you caught him staring, bending over with the right side showing after “accidentally” dropping something in front of him, giving him a peek at the black skin tight crop top you wore in lieu of a bra whenever you stretched your arms. 
And he'd respond by taking every opportunity to get close to you. Like placing a hand on your waist whenever he moved past you and letting it linger a few seconds longer than it should have, or coming up behind you to whisper something in your ear until goosebumps lined your spine. 
“Your uniform is looking pristine today, (Y/N),” he complimented you one day after you dropped off another pile of urgent documents on his desk. “But I know something that will look better on you.”
You rolled your eyes in response, but decided to humor him.
“And what would that be, sir?”
“Me.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you made your leave. Sure, it was predictable, but it was earnest, and the more desperate he got the more it amused you. 
It was all in good fun, at least in the beginning. But after the first couple months, you could sense his growing agitation as each day passed. His movements became strained, his eyes hungrier, his muscles more tense. One day, as you sat at the edge of his desk with your ass just inches away from his hand, you could visibly see him clench his fist as if fighting against an insatiable urge. The sight gave you a rush of power unlike any other.
By the end of your three month mark, the entire department was making bets on when the two of you would finally hook up. Which became a nuisance in the eyes of one person in particular.
That’s right, it wasn’t just your position you had to worry about. Although most of the other military members were quite welcoming to you on that first day, First Lieutenant Hawkeye was the exception. She gave meaning to the phrase “if looks could kill”. Sure, you pretended not to notice the daggers she shot in your direction every time you dared to banter with the roguishly handsome colonel, but that didn’t make it any less intimidating. However, you were no stranger to workplace rivalry, especially in the military. No blondie was going to run you out, not after you worked your ass off to get there.
All of your resolve, however, was put to the test one fateful Friday evening.
Central Command was nearly empty. The rest of the officers had gone home for the day (or were sent home, in Hawkeye’s case, but you didn’t find that out until much later). Apart from a few stragglers hanging around in the hallways, you were pretty much the only one left… apart from him, of course. You’d only been there for a few months, so you had taken every opportunity to build your reputation as a workaholic, refusing to go home unless ordered to. You were hoping it would show your diligence and dedication to the right people. You could practically taste the promotion, you just had to hang in there a little longer. If you could resist the colonel for another few months, you’d be a shoe in. You just knew it.
You headed towards his office to drop off one last pile of paperwork. One he was certain to ignore until the following week, but at least it would’ve been out of your hands and his responsibility. You gave the door a quiet, yet firm knock with the back of your knuckles and waited for permission to enter.
“Come in,” he crooned, his voice sounding more alluring than authoritative. 
You opened the door slowly, clutching the thick pile against your chest before heading inside. When it closed behind you, you clicked your ankles together and gave your colonel a firm salute.
“At ease,” He said off-handedly, placing the file he had in hand onto his desk. You heard him crunching on something, most likely one of those peppermints he always kept by the phone. He focused his rigid eyes onto you, clasping his hands together to form a small tent for his chin to rest on. 
“The paperwork you requested, sir,” You gave a staunch reply, hoping to hide the nervous butterflies that suddenly began to flutter about in your belly. Ah, what was it about that look in his eye that made you feel so skittish? It wasn’t so intimidating when there were people around, but now that you were finally alone...
“I told you, there’s no need for these formalities when it’s just the two of us.”
“With all due respect, this was how I was trained. Sir,” You put extra emphasis on that last title and flashed him a cheeky grin, knowing how much he loved hearing you call him that. It did something to you, seeing his breath hitch and his grip tighten. If he was attempting to hide his arousal, he was doing a pretty shoddy job.
“Were you also trained to put in 12 hour days without clearance?”
Welp. He got you there. So much for all that overtime pay. Not like it would've been approved by HR, anyway.
“...No, sir. But you asked to have these forms done by the end of the week, and I promised to follow through.”
The colonel raised an eyebrow in amusement, not bothering to show restraint as he looked you up and down. The way his eyes were devouring you was enough to make you question all your morals.
“Or maybe you were just looking for an excuse to get me alone.”
You felt your face heat up at his comment, which only got worse when he flashed that usual shit eating grin of his.
“And what if I was?”
“Then I’d forbid you from working so hard and offer to take you out instead.”
You blinked a few times in disbelief, unsure how to interpret his words.
“...What?”
“You’re still pretty new to Central, aren’t you? You’ve been working so much, I doubt you’ve gotten the chance to really explore the city. I could be your tour guide.”
“Are you…?”
“Asking you out? Affirmative.”
Your lips parted in shock, then formed into a grin as the corners of your lips crept up.
“Isn’t that a bit inappropriate, colonel?”
“It could be. But only if you wanted that.”
“Sir.”
“Please, (Y/N), I said call me Roy. We’re close enough now, aren’t we?”
“...Roy,” his first name was unfamiliar on your tongue, yet rolled off like smooth silk. It felt odd to call your superior out of his title, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t excite you.
“Yes?”
“Your offer is tempting, but I’ll have to decline. I can’t risk losing my position.”
“Who has to know?”
“People talk, you know.”
“Then let's give them something to talk about.”
It was corny, but genuine. You could tell he was really trying, perhaps as an attempt to live up to his womanizer reputation. It made you wonder if that was all an act.
“What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Why don’t you come here and find out.”
Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have hesitated to obey a command from your superior. But hearing him toss aside the suggestive comments for a more direct method of flirting had taken your head for a spin. After months of playful teasing that usually led to nowhere, you suddenly found yourself on a direct course to somewhere. 
It was foolish to fall for a man like him, but there wasn’t a single thing stopping you from taking the plunge. You were about to dive in headfirst without bothering to take a breath.
“Alright, then. I guess I’ll have to come to you.”
He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back so he could come round the desk and make his way towards you. Your heartbeat steadily increased the closer he got, pounding against your rib cage until it felt like you’d explode. In just a few short seconds, the colonel’s face was inches away from your own and you could practically smell the peppermint candy he had been sucking on just moments ago. You didn’t realize that you’d backed up against the wall until his right arm was suddenly beside your head. He leaned in close until you could smell of his expensive cologne wafting in the air. It reminded you of your dad’s aftershave, with hints of sandalwood and bergamot. 
You’d never been so close to the colonel before and hadn’t realized how much height he had on you. He wasn’t anywhere close to being six feet, but you had always been on the shorter side, and the confidence oozing from his aura was making you feel three inches tall.
“(Y/N),” he said with a stern tone. “I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to give me your honest answer.”
“Sure.”
“That’s an order.”
“... Yes, sir.”
He took a deep breath, his eyes boring holes into you as you waited with stalled breath for him to go on. A few moments passed; you noticed part of his face twitch before he took a big gulp.
Was Roy Mustang… nervous?
“Do you…” He finally spit out after several long seconds. “Do you… want this to go any further?”
You stood there quietly for a moment, wondering if you’d do permanent damage to his ego if you toyed with him any longer. You decided on a mix of genuine honesty and playful taunting, just to keep him on his toes.
“What kind of woman do you take me for, Roy?” you teased, crossing your arms while donning an amused smirk.
“A phenomenal one,” he half-whispered. “One I’d be honored to know more intimately.”
“And once you’ve known me?” you said, meeting his famished gaze. “What will happen?”
“Whatever you want. I could give you space. I could never give you space again. It’s your choice.”
“My superior has handed me the reins,” you goaded gleefully. “What will our colleagues think when they hear of this?”
“I’m serious, (Y/N),” he growled with an unfamiliar sense of urgency. “If you want this… whatever this is, to end here, just say the word and I’ll obey without question. This will never happen again, and everything will go back to the way it was.”
You fell silent, your smile fading away as the conversation began to fall out of your favor.
“But,” he continued, letting out a sharp exhale. “...If you’ll have me. We could m-”
You silenced him with a kiss on the lips, one that left him red faced and dazed. It was a risky move, but one you were more than willing to take. You pulled away after a few seconds and held back a chuckle when you saw his shocked expression; certainly, those long months spent building up tension had paid off. Armed with a silver tongued response, you let your words sink into him like teeth in supple skin. You leaned in close until your breath wisped across his ear.
“Does that answer your question?”
He stared at you with wide eyes and mouth agape for a few moments before pulling you into his embrace once more, kissing you deeply.
His kiss was ravenous, but his hands rivaled that hunger, taking in palmfuls of you as much as he could with all those layers of uniform covering your body. You felt his tongue against your own and relished the sweet peppermint flavor while strong hands slid under the fabric of your outerwear, causing your back to arch further into his grasp. You felt his hands on your back and then again on your hips, groping every curve until his appetite was satiated.
Desperate to get closer, he suddenly pushed you against the wall and grabbed the backs of your thighs as he prepared to lift you up. You let out a tiny yelp a little too late, a weak attempt to warn him of your weight, but your words failed to reach his ears and soon you found yourself in the arms of the Flame Alchemist. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as his hands rested comfortably on your ass, cradling each cheek in his wide palms. You looked down, realizing that your concern for his strength was unfounded. It was as if he was carrying a basket of feathers; there wasn’t any sign of strain to be found in his expression. Your anxiety returned to passion while your hands found their way into the jet black fields of his hair. You found yourself grabbing fistfuls of it as you kissed him deeper and deeper, smiling against his lips every time he moaned from the action. 
Abruptly, he pulled away, eyes soft with desire and longing. You opened your mouth to speak, but he silenced you with another wet kiss before carrying you towards the burgundy couch on the other side of the room.
He laid you down carefully on the velvet cushions, as if you were made of delicate porcelain. Your uniform was already in shambles; the hem of your top coat had ridden up, exposing your disheveled black undershirt and your lack of a bra, and your outer apron was practically on backwards. He took in the sight for a moment; his eyes lost in a lustful haze before finally doing something about it. He dug his fingers under the waistband of your pants in search of the buckle, causing you to let out a surprised squeal right before bursting into giggles. 
“Stahahap!” You weakly batted his hands away. “It tickles!”
You were doomed as soon as the words escaped your lips. With the narrowing of his eyes and a mischievous grin, he placed his fingers in the same spot you just pushed him away from and dug into your belly with a gentle, yet maddening touch.
“Ticklish?” He asked, already knowing the answer. You would’ve spat back a retort had you not been laughing so hard. Feeling him wriggle around in such a sensitive area was more than you could handle at the moment.
“Aaaaah! Roy!! Nooohoho!”
“Ah, now she calls me Roy. Who knew all I had to do to get you to obey me was to tickle you.”
“Nonononono- AAAH!”
Your little outburst was due to him raking his nails down the length of your now-exposed sides, which made you arch your back and push yourself further into his grasp once again. He quit the unbearable wriggling, trading them for soft and gentle strokes, but even those were enough to make you squirm. Your laughs quieted down to muted giggles, ones you tried to mask by covering your mouth with both hands. He took care of that swiftly, taking both wrists into one of his big hands and pinning them above your head. You could feel the heat radiating from his palm, and it made you sweat even more.
“There will be none of that,” He said with an amused smile, looking you up and down as you laid there at his total mercy. Heat crept up your neck and into your cheeks, and you quietly thanked whatever deity was out there for giving you so much melanin.
“Aaahaha… pleeease…” You half-heartedly begged, not for his hands to leave your skin but to continue touching the rest of you.
His free hand trailed up your side, purposefully tickling your bronze skin every inch of the way up until it reached your chest. Now only protected by a thin layer of dark cotton, he began to caress one of your budding nipples as it poked through the fabric of your undershirt. You let out a small moan, unable to hold yourself back. He gave the same attention to your other nipple, flicking the swollen tip until you began to whine. The gentle stimulation was enough to drive you wild, despite the fact that he had barely touched you.
“Why don’t we remove this troublesome uniform so I can find your other sensitive spots?” He cooed, eager to continue his exploration of your body. He released your wrists momentarily and waited for you to undress. You rolled your eyes but obliged, pulling off your unbuttoned top coat and white gloves while he got to work on his own clothes. You scoffed at him as he fumbled around with his own gloves and pants; you assumed the colonel would be a pro by now, with all the “experience” he bragged about having with the ladies, but seeing him awkwardly stumble around like a preteen about to lose his virginity was enough to make you laugh out loud. He put an end to it quickly, however, with another scurry of fingers up your sides. You shrieked again, curling up into yourself to get away from those torturous touches.
“How dare you mock your superior,” he joked, finally managing to undo his belt buckle. His pants slid off unceremoniously; he kicked them across the room and flinched when they landed on an expensive vase, subsequently knocking it over and shattering into pieces. You covered your mouth again, failing to hide another laugh. However, one look at his dejected expression made you regret poking fun at him.
“This is not exactly how I imagined this going,” He mumbled, furrowing his brows in frustration. 
“It’s alright. It’s cute.”
“How dare you call your superior officer cute. I should punish you for that.”
“You’re such a big baby. Stop whining and touch me already.”
“Look who’s giving orders now.”
“Shut up and do as you’re told.”
“As you wish, ma’am,” he teased as he leaned forward, pulling your pants down your thick legs and tossing them aside, this time with a bit more care so as not to break any other valuables in the room. All that was left were your black lace panties and matching undershirt.
He unbuttoned his top coat, removed his white undershirt, and placed both of them on the floor beside the couch, and finally it was your turn to admire his form. You knew the Flame Alchemist was strong after fighting in two different wars, but you had never gotten the chance to see his body in its full glory without the layers of his uniform hiding it away. The muscles in his arms bulged with every movement, complemented by thick veins that ran from the back of his hands to his forearms. He must have been committed to his core workouts as well; he had a well defined six pack that rose and fell with each haggard breath he took. It was enough to make you go feral. You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to caress his milky pale skin, which flinched at the sudden contact. It was warm beneath your fingertips, and after a taste you wanted more.
It would have to wait, though, for he was a gentleman and wouldn’t dare come before his lady. 
He crouched down and planted a gentle kiss on your stomach as he began his worship of you. Your skin quivered from the tender gesture and you struggled to hold back another tittered reaction for fear of ruining the moment. Biting your lip failed to stifle the giggles bubbling in your throat as he kissed, licked, and sucked every inch of your exposed belly. He flittered his lips along your sides, moving from waist to navel until his tongue dipped into your belly button. Each subtle movement sent electric currents throughout your body, filling you with pleasure as he adored every centimeter of your seldom touched skin.
Moving downwards, his lips grazed your thigh crease as they continued their descent, but when he went to spread your legs you grabbed his shoulders to stop him. He looked up, brows furrowed with worry at your tense expression.
“Wait,” you said as insecurity overcame you. “I don’t… like how I look down there.”
He said nothing, his gaze returning to the empty space between your thighs that he planned to fill himself. He rubbed the tops of your legs with the lightest pressure, making you writhe in place. He looked up at you again with puppy dog eyes, begging for you to let him in.
“May I?”
You hesitated, but nodded in response. He slowly pushed your legs apart, and suddenly you felt more exposed than ever before. The scars that dotted your pantyline were front and center, the ugly browns and bumpy red ridges garnering all the attention from your colonel. Your pubic hair was wild and unkempt, so much that he’d have to sift through the strands like a man on a safari. Surely, seeing these scars, along with the state of your pubic hair, had turned him off completely.
“It’s just… been a while,” you continued your lament. “A long while.”
Still saying nothing, he leaned forward and surprised you with more gentle pecks directly on the scarred skin you had spent years hiding away from the light. He added his tongue, pulling your thin lace panties to the side and carefully spreading your lips so he could begin to feast. That first lick sent your mind soaring to the heavens, causing your hands to clutch the stiff fabric of the couch for leverage. The space between your legs increased as you opened yourself to him, allowing him access to your seldom shared treasure. Your insecurities quickly faded into nothing, and you surrendered to him body and mind.
Admittedly, it took awhile for you to cum. Longer than you wished. But he was dedicated to your pleasure, keeping his face planted between your thighs through every guttural moan or sudden thrash. You made sure to let him know he was doing the job well, your moans growing louder whenever he licked your clit in just the right way. Alternating between sucking and flicking, he finally found the rhythm that suited you best after several long minutes of trial and error. He kept going, refusing to change his pattern until he heard those magic words.
“I’m gonna come,” you cry out in a breathy voice. “I’m gonna come I’m gonna come I’m gonna-”
An explosion of stars in your peripheral, plus the involuntary curling of your toes, told him all he needed to know. Waves of pleasure washed over your body as your mind went fuzzy, like television screens after a long day’s broadcast. Your chest rose and fell in rapid succession, and upon opening your eyes you were greeted by a victorious smirk from your baby-faced superior. He leaned his cheek against your thigh, lazily kissing along your path of scars until he reached your knees.
“You’re amazing,” he uttered in between smooches. His fingers traced constellations in your skin, making you flinch now and then from the ticklish sensations. You tried to grab his hands, but he was faster, and made sure to take advantage of your vulnerability and increased sensitivity by tickling your hips until you screamed.
“And you’re a menace!” You cried out, playfully slapping his cheeks while he laughed at your expense. 
Once you regained logical thought, you pushed yourself up and faced your superior officer head on. He had given you a taste of pleasure, but you craved more. You wanted him inside you, and you wanted him your way. It was time for Roy Mustang to take orders.
“Lay down,” You commanded, a sudden authoritativeness washing over you. Roy seemed just as shocked as you, but followed your command willingly. He laid back on the couch across strewn cushions and scattered pillows, allowing you to take full reign over him. He wasn't moving fast enough to your liking, so you pushed him down and wrapped your hand around his throat with enough pressure to hold him in place without affecting his breathing. You kept your thumb and forefinger in the shape of a V, careful not to press down too hard too quickly. Your fingers rested comfortably on the sides of his neck as he looked at you with eyes full of affection.
“(Y/N), I never took you as an aggressive one,” He teased, showing no signs of fighting back.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Roy,” you ran your thumb over his bottom lip and caressed his freshly shaven face as he watched you, holding back from acting on his arousal.
“Well, I’d certainly love to find out.”
You released him from your grasp and carefully stood up on the unstable cushions, lifting your undershirt over your head and sliding your panties down until you were stark naked. Stark naked, in front of your superior officer, who was gaping at you like he’d just discovered the eighth wonder of the world. You crawled on top of him, seizing the waistband of his own briefs before yanking them off unceremoniously. They were discarded next to the couch with the rest of the wrinkled pieces of your uniforms.
Finally, you saw his member in all its glory. It was pale, with a hint of rosy hue, and exactly the right shape for your preferences. If you had to guess, it was at least 8 inches erect. He’d teased you with his dickprint for those long months, aware of how its size and girth demanded your attention every time you were lucky enough to sit next to him in a meeting. How long had you yearned to feel it for yourself?
You took his rock hard penis into your hand, gathering all of the saliva in your mouth before taking it in. You licked the tip with a flicker of your tongue, smiling to yourself when you saw him writhe where he laid. You wrapped your mouth around him as he cried out in pleasure, finally giving him the relief he desired. Your head began to bob up and down as your tongue licked the entirety of his member. You felt it twitch in your mouth every so often as he began to pulsate, grunting every time the tip hit the back of your throat. You suppressed the urge to gag, slowing down whenever that sick feeling arose, then returned to the same deliberate rhythm when the feeling passed. You could tell the ebb and flow was driving him mad. It was time to give him more.
“Do you have a condom?” You asked, ready to go all the way.
He nodded, reaching over the side of the couch in search of his pants. He fumbled around for a bit, letting out a frustrated curse every once in a while before he found what he was looking for. He ripped off the plastic wrapping and pinched the tip as he slid it down over his painfully erect penis.
When he was ready, you climbed on top and spread your legs.
“Do you want me?” you said, pressing the tip of his head into your vagina. He let out a groan and pushed his hips upward, desperate to get deeper inside of you.
“Yes,” he murmured.
“How badly do you want me?”
“I want you so bad,” his pleas became more urgent, almost turning to whimpers. “Please, let me feel you.”
You obliged, taking him into you. You were still quite wet from his masterful oral skills, so his member slid inside easily without much discomfort. The cry of pleasure that came from him almost caused you to stop in place. You lifted yourself up, then back down again, your cheeks making a smacking sound as they slammed against his thighs.
“Fuck,” he sighed with eyes closed, grunting with every long stroke. “You feel so good.”
You silently agree as your body rises and falls in a steady pattern. He feels so good, so unbelievably good inside you, and all you wanted in that moment was to make him feel as good as you did. You bounced around, testing out different angles to see which gave the best reactions, then settled on one and sped up your strokes.
“Tell me you love it,” you demanded, dripping with sweat, seeking affirmation of a job well done. 
“I love it. I need it. Please, give me more.”
You could feel him getting close. He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching your hips for dear life as you rode him into dawn and let out more than a few moans of your own.
Finally, he reached his peak. You could feel his warm cum bursting inside you, protected only by the thin lubricated condom. You sat there for some time, delighting in the random pumps and twitches as he continued to burst inside you. 
Exhaustion finally hit, and when he pulled you into an embrace you didn’t bother protesting. The two of you laid there for however long, lost in a world of ecstasy. One hand was wrapped around your shoulder while the other stroked your wild curls. You closed your eyes and melted into him, making sure to enjoy the moment as much as possible before it was over.
“Roy,” you spoke up after a long bout of silence. “What happens now?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, continuing to caress your frazzled curls and rubbing the back of your neck every now and then. Seemingly lost in thought.
“I told you,” he spoke up after some time. “You call the shots.”
You clenched your fist as it rested against his chest. You could feel his heart beating rapidly, unwilling to let the excitement go.
“I want more of this. I want more of you.”
He responded by cupping your cheek in one hand, pulling it towards his own face so he could address you properly. For once, you felt shy as you made eye contact with your colonel.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Uh, nothing. I have to tend to my garden, but that won’t take long.”
“Let’s do dinner at 7. Then I’ll tend to your garden afterward.”
He was truly something else. You scoffed at his ridiculous innuendo, gently backhanding him for daring to be so cheesy at such a time. He simply smiled back, pulling you in closer so he could kiss you again, and again, and again.
Work, promotions, envious colleagues… all of that could wait. Right now, you had everything you wanted. You’d figure the rest out later.
After all, you were a phenomenal woman. 
167 notes · View notes
dustedmagazine · 3 years
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Music for Films, Vol. II: Chick Habit
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For good and for ill, Quentin Tarantino’s movies have been strongly associated with postmodern pop culture — particularly by folks whose reactions to the word “postmodern” tend toward pursed lips and school-marmishly wagged fingers. There for a while, reading David Denby on Tarantino was similar to reading Michiko Kakutani on Thomas Pynchon: almost always the same review, the same complaints about characters lacking “psychological depth,” the same handwringing over an ostensible moral insipidness. Truth be told, Tarantino’s pranksome delight with flashy surfaces and stylistic flourishes that are ends in themselves gives tentative credence to some of the caviling. Critics have raised related concerns over the superficiality of Tarantino’s tendency toward stunt casting, especially his resurrections of aging actors relegated to the film industry’s commercial margins: John Travolta, Pam Grier, Robert Forster, David Carradine, Darryl Hannah, Don Johnson and so on. There might be a measure of cynicism in the accompanying cinematic nudging and winking, but it’s also the case that a number of the performances have been terrific.
The writer-director brings a similar sensibility to his sound-tracking choices, demonstrating the cooler-than-thou, deep-catalog knowledge of an obsessive crate-digger. Tarantino thematized that knowledge in his break-through feature, Reservoir Dogs (1992). Throughout the film, the characters tune in to Steven Wright deadpanning as the deejay of “K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the Seventies”; like the characters, the viewer transforms into a listener, treated to such fare as the George Baker Selection’s “Little Green Bag” (1970) and Harry Nilsson’s “Coconut” (1971). As with the above-mentioned actors, Tarantino has sifted pop culture’s castoffs and detritus, unearthing songs and delivering experiences of renewed value — and thereby proving the keenness of his instincts and aesthetic wit. “Listen to (or look at) this!” he seems to say, with his cockeyed, faux-incredulous grin. “Can you believe you were just going to throw this out?” And mostly, it works. If the Blue Swede’s “Hooked on a Feeling” (1974) has become a sort of semi-ironized accompaniment to hipsterish good times, that resonance has a lot more to do with Tim Roth, Harvey Keitel and Co. cruising L.A. in a hulking American sedan than with the Disney Co.’s Guardians of the Galaxy (2014).
In Death Proof (2007), Tarantino’s seventh film and unaccountably his least favorite, soundtrack and screen are both full to bursting with the flotsam and jetsam of “entertainment” conceived as an industry. 
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In just the opening minutes, we see outmoded moviehouse announcements, complete with cigarette-burn cue dots; big posters of Brigitte Bardot from Les Bijoutiers du claire de lune (1958) and of Ralph Nelson’s Soldier Blue (1970) bedecking the apartment of Jungle Julia (Sydney Tamiia Poitier); the tee shirt worn by Shanna (Jordan Ladd), which bears the image of Tura Satana; and strutting under all of it are the brassy cadences of Jack Nitzsche’s “The Last Race,” taken from his soundtrack for the teensploitation flick Village of the Giants (1965). Bibs and bobs, bits and pieces of low- and middle-brow cinema are cut up and reconstructed into a fulsome swirl of signs. And there’s an unpleasant edge to it; the cuts are echoed by the action of the camera, which has been busily cleaving the bodies of the women on screen into fragments and parts. First the feet of Arlene (Vanessa Ferlito), propped up on a dashboard; then Julia, all ass and gams; then Arlene’s lower half again, chopped into slices by the stairs she dashes up (“I gotta take the world’s biggest fucking piss!”) and by the close-up that settles on her belly and pelvis, her hand shoved awkwardly into her crotch. 
As often happens in Tarantino’s movies, furiously busy meta-discursive play collapses the images’ problematic content under multiple levels of reference and pastiche. The film is one half of Grindhouse (2007), Tarantino’s collaboration with his buddy Robert Rodriguez, an old-fashioned double-feature comprising the men’s love letters to the exploitation cinema of the 1960s and 1970s. In those thousands of movies — mondo, beach-cutie, nudie-cutie, women in prison, early slasher, rape-revenge, biker gang, chop-socky, Spaghetti Western and muscle-car-worship flicks (and we could add more subgenres to the list) — symbolic violence inflicted on women’s bodies was de rigueur, and frequently the principal draw. Tarantino shot Death Proof himself, so he is (more than usually) directly responsible for all the framing and focusing — and he’s far too canny a filmmaker not to know precisely what he’s doing with and to those bodies. The excessive, camera-mediated gashing and trimming is a knowing, perhaps deprecating nod to all that previous, gratuitous T&A. His sound-tracking choice of “The Last Race” metaphorically underscores the point: in Bert I. Gordon’s Village of the Giants, bikini-clad teens find and consume an experimental growth serum, which causes them to expand to massive proportions. Really big boobs, actual acres of ass. Get it?
Of course, all the implied japing and judging is deeply embedded in the film’s matrix of esoteric references and fleeting allusions. You’d have to be very well versed in the history of exploitation cinema to pick up on the indirect homage to Gordon’s goofy movie. But as in Reservoir Dogs, Tarantino doesn’t just gesture, he dramatizes, folding an authoritative geekdom into the action of Death Proof. In the set-up to Death Proof’s notorious car crash scene, Julia is on the phone, instructing one of her fellow deejays to play “Hold Tight!” (1966) by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich. Don’t recognize the names? “For your information,” Julia snorts, Pete Townsend briefly considered abandoning the Who, and he thought about joining the now-obscure beat band, to make it “Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick, Tich & Pete. And if you ask me, he should have.”
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It’s among the most gruesomely violent sequences in Tarantino’s films (which do not run short on graphic bloodshed), and Julia receives its most spectacular punishment. Those legs and that rump, upon which the camera has lavished so much attention, are torn apart. Her right leg flips, flies and slaps the pavement, a hunk of suddenly flaccid meat. Again, Tarantino proves himself an adept arranger of image, sign and significance. Want to accuse him of fetishizing Julia’s legs? He’ll materialize the move, reducing the limb to a manipulable fragment, and he’ll invest the moment with all of the intrinsic violence of the fetish. He’ll even do you one better — he’ll make that violence visible. Want to watch? You better buckle up and hold tight. 
Hold on a second. “Hold Tight”? The soundtrack has passed over from intertextual in-joke to cruel punchline. It doesn’t help that the song is so much fun, and that it’s fun watching the girls groove along to it, just before Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell) obliterates them, again and again and again. The awful insistence of the repetition is another set-up, establishing the film’s narrative logic: the repeated pattern and libidinal charge-and-release of Stuntman Mike’s vehicular predations. It is, indeed, “a sex thing,” as Sheriff Earl McGraw (Michael Parks) informs us in his cartoonish, redneck lawman’s drawl. Soon the sexually charged repetitions pile up: see Abernathy’s (Rosario Dawson) feet hanging out of Kim’s (Tracie Thom) 1972 Mustang, in a visual echo of Arlene’s, and of Julia’s. Then listen to Lee (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) belt out some of Smith’s cover of “Baby It’s You” (1969), which we most recently heard 44 minutes before, as Julia danced ecstatically by the Texas Chili Bar’s jukebox. Then watch Abernathy as she sees Stuntman Mike’s tricked-out ’71 Nova, a vibrating hunk of metallic machismo — just like Arlene saw it, idling menacingly back in Austin, with another snatch of “Baby It’s You” wisping through that moment’s portent. 
For a certain kind of viewer, the Nova’s low-slung, growling charms are hard to resist, as is the sleazy snarl of Willy DeVille’s “It’s So Easy” (1980; and we might note that Jack Nitzsche produced a couple of Mink DeVille’s early records, connecting another couple strands in the web) on the Nova’s car stereo. Those prospective pleasures raise the question of just who the film is for. That may seem obvious: the same folks — dudes, mostly — who find pleasure in exploitation movies like Vanishing Point (1971), Satan’s Sadists (1969) or The Big Doll House (1971). But there are a few other things to account for, like how Death Proof repeatedly passes the Bechdel Test, and how long those scenes of conversation among women go on, and on. Most notable is the eight-minute diner scene, a single take featuring Abernathy, Kim, Lee and Zoë (Zoë Bell, doing a cinematic rendition of her fabulous self, an instance of stunt casting that literalizes the “stunt” part). Among other things, the women discuss their careers in film, the merits of gun ownership and Kim and Zoë’s love of (you guessed it) car chase movies like Vanishing Point. One could read that as a liberatory move, a suggestion that cinema of all kinds is open to all comers. All that’s required is a willingness to watch. But watching the diner scene becomes increasing claustrophobic. The camera circles the women’s table incessantly, and on the periphery of the shot, sitting at the diner’s counter, is Stuntman Mike. The circling becomes predatory, the threat seems pervasive. 
If you’ve seen the film, you know how that plays out: Zoë and Kim play “ship’s mast” on a white 1970 Dodge Challenger (the Vanishing Point car); Stuntman Mike shows up and terrorizes them mercilessly; but then Abernathy, Zoë and Kim chase him down and beat the living shit out of him, likely fatally. In another sharply conceived cinematic maneuver, Tarantino executes a climactic sequence that inverts the diner scene: the women surround Stuntman Mike, abject and pleading, and punch and kick him as he bounces from one of them to another. The camera zips from vantage to vantage within the circle, deliriously tracking the action. All the jump cuts intensify the violence, and they provide another contrast to the diner’s scene’s silky, unbroken shot. The sounds and the impact of the blows verge on slapstick, and our identification with the women makes it a giddily gross good time.
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So, an inversion seeks to undo repetition. Certainly, Stuntman Mike’s intent to repeat the car-crash-kill-thrill is undone, and predator becomes prey. But, as is inevitable with Tarantino’s cinema, there are complications, other echoes and patterns to suss out. For instance: as the women stride toward the wrecked Nova, while Stuntman Mike pathetically wails, the camera zooms in on their asses. Bad asses? Nice asses? What’s the right nomenclature? To make sure we can put the shot together with Julia’s first appearance in the film, Abernathy has hiked up her skirt, revealing a lot of leg. Repetition reasserts itself. In an exacerbating circumstance, Harvey Weinstein’s grubby fingerprints are smeared onto the film. Rodriguez’s Troublemaker Studios is credited with production of Grindhouse, but Dimension Films, a Weinstein Brothers company, handled distribution.  
When the film cuts to its end titles, we hear April March’s “Chick Habit” (1995), with its spot-on lyric: “Hang up the chick habit / Hang it up, daddy / Or you’ll never get another fix.” And so on. Even here, where the girl-power vibe feels strongest (cue Abernathy burying a bootheel in Stuntman Mike’s face), there are echoes, patterns. Note how the striding bassline of “Chick Habit” strongly recalls the pulse beating through Nitzsche’s “The Last Race.” Note that March’s song is a cover, of “Laisse tomber les filles,” originally recorded by yé-yé girl France Gall. The song was penned by Serge Gainsbourg, pop provocateur and notorious womanizer. The two collaborated again, releasing “Les Sucettes,” a tune about a teeny-bopper who really likes sucking on lollipops, when Gall was barely 18; the accompanying scandal nearly torpedoed her career. Gall refused to ever sing another song by Gainsbourg, and disavowed her hits.  
Again, that’s all deeply embedded, somewhere in the film’s complicated play of pop irony and double-entendre and the sudden explosions of delight and disgust that intermittently reveal and conceal. Again, you’d have to know your pop history really well to catch up with the complications, and Death Proof moves so fast that there’s always another reference or allusion demanding your attention as the cars growl and the blood spurts. Too many signs to track, too many signals to decipher — that’s the postmodern. But perhaps we have become too glib, assuming that all signs are somehow equivalent. Death Proof insists otherwise. Much has been made of the film’s strange relation to digital filmmaking, of the sort that Rodriguez has made a career out of. Part of Grindhouse’s shtick is its goofball applications of CGI, all the scratches and skips and flaws that the filmmakers lovingly applied. They are digital effects, masquerading as damaged celluloid. Tarantino cut back against that grain, filming as much of the car chase’s maniacal stuntwork in meatspace as he safely could. Purposeful practical filmmaking, for a digitally enhanced cinematic experience, attempting to mimic the ways real film interacts with the physical environment and its manifold histories. Is that clever, or just more cultural clutter?  
Amid all the clutter that crowds the characters onscreen, and their conversations in the film’s field of sound, it can be easy to lose track of the distinctions between appearances and the traces of the real bodies that worked to bring Death Proof to life. Which is why Tarantino’s inclusion of Bell is so crucial. She provides another inversion: Instead of masking her individual presence, doing stunts for other actresses in their clothes and hair (for Lucy Lawless in Xena: Warrior Princess, or for Uma Thurman in Tarantino’s Kill Bill films), Bell is herself, doing what she does best, projecting the technical elements of filmmaking — usually meant to bleed seamlessly into illusion — right onto the surface of the screen. And instead of allowing one group of girls to slip into a repeated pattern, bodies easily exchanged for other bodies, Bell’s presence and its implicit insistence on her particularity (who else can move like she does?) breaks up the superficial logic of cinema’s market for the feminine. She disrupts its chick habit. There’s only one woman like her. 
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Jonathan Shaw
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eclecticash22 · 3 years
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🔮 November Month Ahead Reading 🃏
Take a moment to breathe. Take three deep breaths, and look over each pile. Which one do you keep going back to? Follow your intuition and choose the one you are most drawn to.
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Pile 1 - White Piece & Rope | Pile 2 - Green Piece & Lead Pipe | Pile 3 - Red Piece and Candlestick | Pile 4 - Yellow Piece & Wrench | Pile 5 - Blue Piece & Dagger | Pile 6 - Purple Piece & Revolver
Pile 1 - Mrs. White
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Hello Pile One! So immediately I'm getting that this month is a good time to open up and pay attention to the things that have been trying to get your attention. I do feel like there are things you haven't noticed that now need you to see them.
This month I see you going through a transition and engaging in self growth. I see you being more confident in your abilities and really feeling on top of things. I see you feeling relief this month as well, like things are balancing out. There is also a message here of balance, so I feel things will straighten out and calm down, leading you to feel balanced. Again, there is a message to pay attention to what needs your attention. Try to focus on what is important this month. Touching back on that self growth message, allow yourself to let go of things that no longer serve you and the things that hurt you. We cannot dwell forever, we must move forward. And for many of you, now is the time to let yourself move forward.
Charms: I see that self growth message again. Face your emotions and face what has been bothering you. It isn't easy, but it is worth it to heal. Also, take time out this month to have fun. Find a new hobby, have a movie night and eat your favorite snacks, go out and have fun (if it is safe to do so and as long as you're being safe). Whatever it is, have fun.
Runes: You are coming into abundance this month! There are also new beginnings and prosperity coming forth, as well as change.
Important Numbers: 5, 2, 17, 10, 12, 21
Important Letters: N, K, Q, M, F, W, W, Z, N, U
Shufflemancy Songs: Maniac by Conan Gray | Two Young Hearts by Sabrina Carpenter | Joanne by Lady Gaga | S.O.S. by Rihanna
Pile 2 - Mr. Green
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Hello Pile 2! This month you may be feeling a bit more confident and you may be setting clearer boundaries. You may also be communicating more clearly with others this month. On top of this, you may be feeling very emotional this month. You may feel things very strongly this month, but want to shut those emotions down and ignore them. But that is not the path to take, pile two. Instead, face your emotions head on. It may not be comfortable, but you can do it. This month, I also see an end to a cycle for you, but a new one beginning soon after. You may be getting a job you wanted or a promotion, or you may be getting into a new relationship or moving to a next level in a current romantic relationship. Whatever this is, pay attention to how you're feeling. Address how you're feeling and allow yourself to take a break, talk things out, etc. Finally, pile two, I am seeing that this month you should allow your beauty to shine. You are an incredible human being and you are so beautiful and worthy of goodness. Allow your light to shine this month.
Charms: Immediately what is standing out to me here is communication. With your cards it is hinted at as well. Communicate your needs and desires this month, pile 2. This could also be a message that someone may be communicating with you or reaching out to you this month. Bottled up emotions may end up spilling, and this could have something to do with the communication message. There is commitment here- this may be a specific message for a handful of people, but some of you may be getting engaged/married this month. For others, this could indicate you entering into a committed relationship. Take time to relax this month. Face your emotions. Look at the bright side of things.
Runes: Prosperity. Something is being left up to fate. Joy. Romance.
Important Numbers: 7, 11, 10, 15, 13, 22
Important Letters: A, B, G, Q, M, B, S, V, I, Q
Shufflemancy Songs: Hold It Against Me by Britney Spears | Mustang Kids by Zella Day | Kiss the Girl (cover) by Ashley Tisdale | You're My Best Friend by Queen
Pile 3 - Miss Scarlet
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Hello Pile Three! I see that November is a good month to work towards what you want in life. You have the skills, you have the tools, and you are ready to work towards what you want. This will require you to work through self healing and to release things that no longer serve you. Do not hold onto negative emotions, but rather work through them and release them. It isn't always easy or comfortable, but it is needed in order for us to grow. This is necessary in order for you to progress towards what you want in life. This month I also see you finding something you really love. Whether this be a sense of independence, a new relationship, a new friendship, a new job, a new hobby, etc. Finally, pile three, I see this month is a good one to stand up for yourself and what you believe in. But choose your battles wisely. Avoid petty arguments, but continue to stand up for what you believe. Take initiative.
Charms: Let go of the past. You are strong and protected; your guides and angels are with you. Try not to be super stubborn or hard headed. Know your worth and know you're amazing. Something is unfolding in your life. Don't allow others to disturb your inner peace.
Runes: Success. Support. You are protected by your angels. Conflict. Adversity. Positive Outcome. Satisfaction. Awareness.
Important Numbers: 20, 27, 28, 20, 22, 28
Important Letters: X, E, J, X, K, V, G, D, O, K
Shufflemancy Songs: Save My Soul by JoJo | Love Me Two Times by The Doors | All We Have is Love by Sabrina Carpenter | Eh, Eh by Lady Gaga
Pile 4 - Colonel Mustard
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Hello Pile Four! I'm seeing a lot of defensive energy for this month. Remember, stand up for yourself and what you believe in. Don't let others run over you. But choose battles wisely and try to remain calm. There is an energy here about looking back on things from the past. The message here is to allow yourself to move on from your past. Let go of what doesn't serve you and allow yourself to let go of negative and toxic energies. Find balance in your life, and don't allow others to disturb the balance you have. Things are going to be just fine. Believe in that and know that better things are coming your way. I see you may be undergoing some sort of transformation this month. Be flexible and adaptable. This month may also be am important one to let your friends and/or partner know how much they mean to you. This may also be a good month to make the first move if you find yourself crushing on someone.
Charms: Nurture yourself. Let go of negative attachments. Know you control your life and how you feel. New beginnings. Give love and be persistent in order to reach your goals.
Runes: Gifts. Skills. Prosperity. Disruption. Sudden Loss. Something is being left up to fate.
Important Numbers: 6, 14, 16, 13, 22, 9
Important Letters: B, U, W, Z, F, Q, U, J, Q, M
Shufflemancy Songs: The Way You Make Me Feel by Micheal Jackson | Hollaback Girl by Gwen Steffani | One by Lewis Capaldi | You Deserve Better by James Arthur
Pile 5 - Mrs. Peacock
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Hello Pile Five! This month I see you feeling very in control of things. You're feeling driven and determined. You're using clear thought and focus to make decisions. This will lead you to success. You may have been feeling down or rough lately. Like maybe things are just going wrong, but I see you getting back up and continuing to work hard towards your goals. Keep going after what you want and do what makes you happy. Find inspiration and use that to stay determined. There is a message here to keep going! You are capable of creating the life you want and reaching the goals you have. Stay focused, pile five! Do not allow self doubt or a false self image being you down. You are worthy of greatness and you are capable of greatness. You are incredible and amazing and you can do whatever you set out to do. Don't forget it, friend!
Charms: Know you are loved. Love yourself. Nurture yourself. Nurture your inner child. You control how you feel and you control your life. Be careful. Think positively. Listen to some feel good music.
Runes: Renewal. Dreams. Success. Shield. Support. Passion. Vitality. Courage. Instinct.
Important Numbers: 13, 10, 12, 14, 5, 26
Important Letters: X, L, A, L, B, N, C, I, F, F
Shufflemancy Songs: Father by Demi Lovato | Why by Sabrina Carpenter | Detroit Rock City by KISS | Stronger by Kelly Clarkson
Pile 6 - Professor Plum
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Hello Pile Six! This month, I see you moving forward. Moving forward past a situation that has left you feeling stuck, regretful, or sad. Things are falling into place for you to move forward and continue on to achieving goals. Remember, do not dwell on the past. It has already happened, and we can't change it. What we can do is fix it or choose to let it go. I do see you moving forward to a better place. There is a lot of energy here about moving on to something better. There is also energy here of success. Approach things with fearlessness (but still be careful and use your sense). Don't be afraid to try new things or go after what you want in life. Stay determined and don't allow others to disturb your peace. You are on the right path. Know that life is an unknown journey that we must go down. The unknown may be a bit frightening at times, we must approach it with bravery. Find your inner peace.
Charms: Knowledge and learning. Moving forward. Friendships. Seeing something you didn't see before. Something being revealed to you. Adventure. Curiosity. Picking something. Choices. Overcoming obstacles. Good things happening in life. Success.
Runes: Leadership. Truth. Wisdom. Confrontation. Turning Point. Death (metaphorical). Wealth. Prosperity.
Important Numbers: 17, 14, 19, 24, 15, 24
Important Letters: P, G, Y, X, P, I, R, T, Q, Z
Shufflemancy Songs: Bad Guy by Billie Eilish | Tough Lover by Christina Aguilera | Don't Stop the Music by Rihanna | Bad Liar by Selena Gomez
*** All Groups ***
Thank you so much for your time today! I hope you have such a wonderful day and an incredible month ahead ❤❤❤
*This reading is for the collective. If it resonates- awesome! If it doesn't resonate- that is okay. Take what does resonate and/or pick another pile.
* This reading is for entertainment purposes. This can not tell you are exact future. I am also not responsible for any decisions you choose to make. Any and all decisions you make are 100% your own.
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flameleads · 3 years
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@margauxmia​ asked:
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It's a perfectly ordinary weekday, chatter and exclamations of “yes sir!” faintly filling the halls from every direction and, though everything is in place, something may catch Roy’s attention - a single letter delivered with the morning’s paperwork.
Even untrained eyes would be able to tell the dainty envelope doesn't look like it belongs in the setting, appearing even smaller compared to the number of files it sat on top of; though the seal is not recognizable, the black ink shimmering on it’s verse reveals the sender - Mia Margaux, a surname, the Colonel might realize, not traditional in Amestris.
Should he open it, he’ll find a letter carefully written in delicate paper:
“Dear Colonel Mustang,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to propose a meeting, I am a philosopher greatly interested in the science of alchemy and would love to hear your perspective on the overlap of those subjects.
You seem to be a figure of great significance for the alchemical scenario in Amestris - so I imagine you can understand why you would have captivated my interest. It would be a great pleasure to meet you for a chat, you may send your reply to the address stated on the envelope. I hope to hear from you soon,
Best wishes, M. Margaux”
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The envelope that came with his usual paperwork had him perplexed.
It wasn’t uncommon for Roy to receive personal mail at his office. To occasionally throw other military personnel off his scent, his sisters sent him notes. He had a reputation to keep up, after all, and being in Central made it even easier to do. With his aunt’s bar in the same city, letters came faster than they did back East.
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This specific envelope, though, had writing he did not recognize and a name that only looked somewhat familiar. It didn’t come from one of his sisters. Did they give someone his work address on purpose? Well, the letter made it past security, so he could only assume they were involved somehow. Keeping an eyebrow raised, he opened the envelope and scanned the contents inside.
No, it was not from his sisters, and they weren’t involved in the slightest. Someone wanted to talk to him about alchemy and philosophy, two subjects that were normally considered opposites. Wait, was this a journalist? That name did look familiar, and he swore he read something in the paper recently with someone whose name matched. What was it about again? God, he couldn’t remember. Time seemed to blur together as of late in Central.
Not only that, but was he the only alchemist she contacted? There weren’t many State Alchemists left nowadays. He’d need to ask Edward later if he got any mail related to this.
“You look puzzled, Sir.” Maxfield’s voice broke the silence. Roy met her confused gaze, prompting her to continue. “Is it another letter asking you on a date?”
“No. It’s from a journalist. They want to talk to me about alchemy.”
“I’m almost surprised you didn’t immediately say no. You normally avoid anyone close to the press. What makes this one different?”
“Well, for starters, she wants my perspective on how alchemy and philosophy overlap. That’s a refreshing change of pace.”
“Are you sure it’s wise to entertain this idea?”
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“Worried about me?” To that, Maxfield gave him a raised eyebrow. Of course she was considering he was her boss. Anything happening to him could reflect poorly on her. “I’ll be careful. I’ve handled this sort of thing before.”
“All right, Sir.”
With that conversation finished, Roy plucked his stationery out of his desk along with a pen, and he began writing a letter. Soon, M. Margaux would receive the following in her mailbox:
Dear M. Margaux,
I appreciate you reaching out to me. Your letter piqued my interest, and I would be curious to have a conversation with you regarding the subjects you mentioned. I included the phone number for my assistant so we can hash out details and arrange a time and place to meet. With that number is a code specifically designated for members of the press, which will allow you to call from an outside line.
I look forward to meeting with you soon, and I hope this letter finds you well.
Sincerely,
Col. Mustang
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whywishesarehorses · 3 years
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Mustang Culling Dilemma
Hey Y’all,
I wanted to do a big informational post about some of the drama behind mustang gathers + the reason American taxpayers end up paying millions to hold and feed horses every year. It’s not as simple as “just cull them,” or “hunt them in the wild.” I do not work for the BLM, this is merely a set of opinions and facts as I have them. Under a readmore for length.
To be clear: the reason I make so many posts about the dilemma of mustangs in the west and the overpopulation is to help counter the narratives the ARAs use at length. Every time I see a photoset go viral about some pro-wild sanctuary and their stallions, I get fired up and end up sharing more content about the overpopulation problems.  I love the mustangs, and seeing them on the range is a great joy in my life, but the situation is out of control. Personally, I am all for culling at this point to get numbers down to manageable, then use of fertility control and protection of predators to create balance.  This is not super possible at the moment for a variety of reasons.
As a background, feral horses in the US breed very very rapidly and have no natural predators. Left to their own devices, they breed until they eat all the food, then starve to death. This could be a way to manage the population, but ranchers rely on that rangeland for their beef cattle, which they pay the BLM to pasture. The ranchers then become one of the main lobbyist groups. Additionally, mustangs are mostly confined to dry areas of the west - forage is limited, and in times of overpopulation, they overbrowse until other native species die out - plants, deer, insects, small mammals, etc. So horses are limited in feasible numbers to be on the pasture, ranchers are angry about it, and the excess have to go SOMEWHERE.
Problems begin with one law: horses cannot be slaughtered for meat in the US, and that’s been the case since 2005. Instead, 82,000 horses are shipped annually to Mexico or Canada for slaughter there. Mustangs are doubly insulated from slaughter by the 1971 Wild and Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act, which declared them animals to be “living symbols of the historic and pioneer spirit of the West.” Some still make it to slaughter, sold by 4th or 5th owners who can legally sell them at auction to kill buyers.
This is the part that births the second enormous lobbying group - the animal rights activists, or pro-wild folks. They are hugely opposed, in general, to many of the adoption programs (selling a horse for $25 makes it a great deal for those who sell for meat to turn a profit, and many of them are absolutely CERTAIN that it is part of a grand scheme by most adopters and the BLM itself to funnel them off to meat), and often the idea of roundups in general. They show up in large numbers to roundup events, and there have been fights at those events between these people and other observers.
So, in order to do any sort of culling, 3 steps need to happen.
1. The 1971 act would need to be repealed, or at least modified. This act was put into place largely due to the efforts of Wild Horse Annie, when mustangs were en route to being eliminated from the west entirely. Her clever activism resulted in enormous protections, the addition of HMAs to the BLM, and a series of laws designed to maintain the population in ecological balance. Although the original legislation allows for culling to maintain population control, a set of further laws put in place by Congress limit the use of slaughter. This is a set of Federal laws, and therefore would take a great deal of work to have adjusted. It is also resisted very aggressively by ARAs and general laypeople.
2. Laws regarding horse slaughter in the US would need to change, unless the goal was simply cull -> dispose of, which would take an enormous amount of funds in and of itself. This is another thing the ARAs and public would fight tooth and nail.
3. Long-term herd management strategies have to change. This could be fertility control, or creation of better predation systems. At the moment, fertility control has been largely dropped for several reasons: ARAs worried about long-term fertility issues, cost and labor requirements (it’s a ridiculous amount of work to track lineages, find horses, and dart mares every few years, to say nothing of the training involved), and simple inundation with costs to maintain the system that currently exists (BLM can’t afford to do this because it is expensive and they are too busy trying to keep up). Natural predation is complicated as well, with other branches of the federal govt working to limit predator populations to protect humans and livestock.
In fact, the Tr*mp administration made moves to start a cull in 2019, citing a return to the letter of the 1971 law and the allowance of culling, but was rapidly shot down by Congress. The reason? 80% of Americans surveyed want continued protection of the Mustang, and 75% of them say a vote against it would lead to loss of support for their senators.
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(Take this image with a grain of salt; it’s from Public Polling Institute, but driven by the American Wild Horse Campaign and has a fairly small sample.)
This public pushback is partially because of the actions of the ARAs, the American Wild Horse Campaign, and a great deal of confusion about management=/=extinction.
Every time you go to comment “just cull them already!!!” on my posts, this is the series of thoughts I have. I agree with you! And this is a problem. But it is one that is far more convoluted than a simple call for a change in management. I am happy to talk about this and discuss it at length, and this is not aimed as an attack at any of y’all.
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statticscribbles · 3 years
Text
Distance
Summary: Jughead/Plus Sized!Reader Request: Reader figuring out that she’s liked him all along but he started being distant, and can it be very angsty and sad with whatever ending
“Oh my god I like Jughead Jones.” You gasp jerking back when you can feel eyes on you. “You what Y/N?” “Got stuck with Jones; for the english project.” You nervously spit back towards Betty. “And what’s wrong with him?” “He well; he’s really passionate, which is good, but it can be kind of annoying when it’s just a simple essay.” And hot; you think but try your best not to entertain the idea of anything happening.
“Y/N. Betty said you were bummed about working with me?”Jughead’s hand rest on your shoulder and you shrug a little and shake your head. “I’m not; just you’re really into english and the books we read; but there are so much better books than the ones we’re forced to read.” “Oh really? Care to share?” He grins leaning forward and you nod back. “You can come over to mine later; since we do have to actually work on this essay.”
“Are we doing Romeo and Juliet for this?”Jughead looks up from where he’s perched on your bed. “Yeah; I figured we could write it from the point of view of Tybalt and Mercutio?” You offer and he shakes his head. “And what’s your idea then?” “Juliet’s nurse and the Friar.” “You’re comparing me to the nurse?” “Well who would have a more exciting romance? The friar and the nurse; forbidden and barely seen except to-“ “Friars can’t have sex. Not that you need it to have an actual relationship.” “But that’s sort of the point of a relationship; being intimate with another person in ways you wouldn’t with friends.” “You’ve obviously missed out on some key relationship issues.” You laugh and Jughead scowls.
“And what do you know of my relationship issues.” Jughead snaps and you roll your eyes. “You’re a thin white boy; the worst you’re gonna get is rejected and assumed you’re gonna shoot up the school.” You sneer and can see his hand falter. “That shock you into silence?” Jughead nods chewing his lip. “Was it the school comment; or the white boy thing?” “The uh fat thing; I don’t think of you as-“ “I am. It’s obvious; you denying it makes it even worse.” Jughead shrugs pulling the copy of Romeo and Juliet over. “You just want to go back over the assignment then?” “What?” He pretends to be absorbed in the book he’s just pulled out. “The assignment where we have to write as two lovers from Romeo and Juliet but it not be both of them.”
“Oh yeah; course. I still think we should do the nurse and the friar.” “Mercutio and Tybalt would be so much more dramatic.” “Really? More dramatic that Romeo and Juliet?” “Yes.” He arches his eyebrow and you shrug. “We could do Mercutio and someone else? Make him in love with Romeo?” Jughead grins. “What about Mercutio and Juliet.” “Mercutio? Really? What he’s been in love with Juliet and hoped that bringing Romeo to the ball was going to give him a chance to get with Juliet?” Jughead nods, you shrug and he grins more leaning forward. “So what do you say Juliet? Want to fall in love with someone destined to die.” “We both are Mercutio.” You laugh a little. “So what we’re gonna west side story this? Since you’re in the serpents.” You roll your eyes when he glares. “You admitting to being a Ghoulie?” He grins and laughs when you shove him.
You’d gotten an A on your project; you’d assured Jughead you weren’t bothered by the late addition of Mercutio’s last letter proclaiming him alive and posing as a banished Romeo in the countryside. When he asks you out to Pop’s to go over something he’d written; the idea your teacher had planted in his head after the project; you agree. It takes you three more ‘editing session’ to realize they are in fact dates and then another four dates to realize how in love you are with him. It takes two more weeks and a fight in front of the Serpents for you to realize how distant he’s been being. What you had assumed were jobs with the rest of the snakes turned into a tangle of misinformation from Toni, sweet pea and fangs all through each other and then passed to you.
You’d tried confronting him but he’d only grown more and more distant until you’d managed to convince veronica and Cheryl something was going on. They look unimpressed with your detective skills and Veronica tries her best to gentely tell you Jughead and Betty have been together for three days. You thank her for the information and inform the rest of the serpents who all seem just as put out as you about his lying. “Jones. We’re voting Topaz as leader.” “Voting?” Jughead wrinkles his nose. “Yeah. Can’t have a leader that lies to us all just cause he wants some blonde northsider to suck him off after school.” Sweet Pea snaps and you cringe back. “Sweets; that’s harsh.”
“It’s true, he’s been feeding us misinformation for weeks; how’re we supposed to trust him as leader; what if he’s like Mustang and pulling one over on us to get in good with the Ghouls and Hiram?” You chew your lip and Jughead stomps his foot snarling. “I would never-“ “Never what Jones? Toni is blood more than you. You scared about the vote?” “No.” He’s glaring at everyone as FP steps from where he was lounging behind. “Y’all really want this?” He nods and the rest of the serpents put there hands up. “Alright hands down. Fangs up for Jughead’s continued leadership?” You try not to cringe when no hands go up.
“Toni Topaz?” You raise your hand keeping your eyes met with Jughead’s. “We need to talk.” You don’t turn back from where you’re congratulating Toni. “Y/N.” You tilt your head and watch as Jughead’s shoulders sink. “I’m sorry about being distant; I just thought it was better; with us being Serpents; it’s not safe, makes you a target.” “And a northsider is less of one?” You watch his brow furrow. “Betty can-“
“Take care of herself?” “Well just-“ “She’s thin, pretty? A cheerleader? Come on Jones Just admit you never cared.” “I did but- I do; just.” “Please don’t lie; I know you’re a Serpent but I don’t want to think of you as a snake.”
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moonlit-imagines · 4 years
Text
Headcanons for Dating Carol Danvers
Carol Danvers x reader
warnings: alcohol
a/n: its 6am and i have not had any sleep yet this is probably very bad
prompt: dating carol d.
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Pre-Vers
carol and you partied with maria all the damn time
every friday night was an adventure waiting to happen
especially when you lovebirds were singing karaoke on stage
you were the bar crowd’s favorite
and the more drinks in you, the more unpredictable you may be
carol loves classic rock, she has an enormous collection of cassettes that you two jam out to in her 1973 Mustang that she loves almost as much as she loves you
speaking of her car, joyriiiiides
you’ve had some good times in that car ;)
you’re super supportive of her career
she is a spitfire, sometimes she’s really gotta blow off steam
you had a hand in helping maria raise her baby girl
“aww, who’s the cutest niece in the whole wide world, you are!”
“y/n, the ‘baby voice’ is a bit over the top. cute, but over the top”
babysitting
lots of it
“hey, spitfire, why don’t you give me a kiss for good luck?”
“can it be more than one kiss?”
carol -> pda
she will grab ur butt to make you jump
but she will also keep her arm wrapped around your waist constantly
sometimes she’d have to be pried off
big spoon babey
but she likes to lay on her back more, you you have to cuddle up onto her
carol gave you this super fuzzy blanket that she always throws over you
she loves the smell of your hair
carol will pop in on you in the shower
“boo!”
“babe! someday i’m gonna fall and you wont be laughing then!”
her laughter really was contagious
the last time you saw carol was upsetting when you looked back on it
she was determined to beat maria in a race, so she rushed out of the house
you didn’t even get a goodbye kiss
“love you, baby! see you tonight, hope we’re still having that amazing macaroni for dinner!”
the news was shocking
you moved in with maria afterwards
the memorial sucked
you broke down in front of a huge crowd and ran off
you put your girlfriend’s stuff into a box and kept it in your closet, untouched for months at a time
Post-Vers
she didn’t remember you at first
until she saw pictures
“i don’t give a damn if you’re going by ‘vers’ now, you’re always gonna be my spitfire”
she liked you as carol and as vers
carol found you crying in your room after she had shown up again
there was something oddly familiar about you
“i cant say i dont feel anything, i really do believe that i loved you...love you”
“i have some of your old stuff”
you pulled out the boxes again and sorted through the mess
cassettes, water-damaged pictures, love letters, old documents, her stuffed animal she never could part with as she got older
“this is from our first date, you drew a picture of a duck for me and snuck it into my pocket”
you laughed and cried and carol started to remember who she was
she tackled you in a hug and peppered you with kisses
after all the mess was over, you were a bit torn
stay with maria or travel the galaxy with carol
“y/n, are you kidding me? she’s the love of your life, go!!”
the latter it is
carol really loved lifting you in her arms with ease because it basically took your breath away
the space tour with your half-alien girlfriend was the highlight of life
“we’ve got a lot to make up for after the few years you were gone”
wink wink, kiss kiss
“you’re telling me...”
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asfddf · 3 years
Text
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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years
Text
Fic: Forged Through Fire (2/13)
Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.
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Rated: T
[One] [AO3]
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Content warning for this chapter: Discussion of domestic abuse – parent on child; implied self-harm and discussion of self-harm.
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Forged Through Fire
Two
The phone ringing startled Roy out of the doze he hadn’t realised he’d fallen into, and he jumped up out of his chair, massaging the crick in his neck as he went over to the phone on the wall.
“Mustang.”
“Hello Roy. It’s Riza. Riza Hawkeye.”
“Riza.”
For a good long while, Roy had absolutely no idea what to say to her. He hadn’t seen her since the day that he’d finished his training under Berthold and passed his state licence exam, although they’d kept in touch with the occasional letter. It was the first time she’d ever called him since he’d moved out of barracks and got his own apartment with his own phone line, and the novelty of hearing her voice again after all the time that had passed was enough to render him speechless. Finally he regained his tongue.
“It’s good to hear your voice again,” he said.
“Yeah. It’s good to hear yours, too.” She sounded quiet, her voice low and measured as if she’d been crying.
“What’s wrong?”
“My father died.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “The funeral’s on Friday if you want to come. Please don’t feel obligated. There won’t be all that many people there. He wasn’t exactly a social man.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thank you.” The relief in her voice was almost palpable, even over the phone. “So… How have you been?”
“All right. Not doing much, we haven’t been shipped out anywhere yet so it’s mainly just paperwork and patrols.” God, this was the inanest conversation ever. He hadn’t spoken to Riza for a year and a half, and this was what he was finding to talk about? “How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know how to feel right now if I’m honest. Everything’s so… weird. It’s not like when Mom died. Everything was easy then. I was sad because she wasn’t there anymore. This time…”
Roy knew exactly why she trailed off. Receiving letters from Riza in the time since he finished with Berthold had always been bittersweet. He knew the situation she was in, and he had no idea how to help her out of it. Now, she was out of it more by luck – if death could be considered luck – than judgement, and he still felt a stab of guilt that he had not been able to do anything for her.
“Yeah. I understand.” Did he really? “Do you need anything?” He didn’t want to think of her in that ramshackle old house all by herself. “Groceries, company, anything?”
“I’m ok. I’ve got everything sorted. I think I just need to know there’ll be a friendly face at the funeral. Thanks.”
“Any time.” He was reminded of the time he took her to the bar after her tattoo got infected. “How’s your back?”
“Sorry?”
“It was a long train of thought. How’s your back doing?”
“It’s fine.” For the first time, he thought that she might be smiling on the other end of the phone. “I’ve not had any problems at all since Trisha and Hohenheim fixed me up.” There was a pause. “Are they still there at Madam Christmas’s?”
“Yep. I don’t think they’ll ever leave.”
Riza laughed. “Well, send my regards next time you see them.”
“I will. I guess I’ll see you on Friday.”
“Till Friday. Thank you, Roy.”
They said their goodbyes, and Roy stayed staring at the phone for a long time after he hung up. It was only now that he realised just how much he had missed Riza in the intervening time. Perhaps it was because they had never completely lost touch with each other that the separation had not seemed as absolute as it did now; she had always still been on the periphery of his world, even if she wasn’t regularly in it like Aunt Chris and his new friends and colleagues within the military. Now he realised just how long it had been.
She hadn’t changed at all, and when he saw her standing in the cemetery on the grey and miserable morning of the funeral, he was almost relieved to see that she was still just the same Riza. Although, that said, not exactly the same. There was something behind her eyes, a little bit haunted. Maybe it was just grief, maybe it was something far more complicated. She gave a wan smile when she saw him, making her excuses to the scant other mourners and coming over to him.
“Hey. It’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise. Are you ok?”
She nodded. “I’m getting there. It’s still all so surreal.” She glanced over towards the grave and the drab preacher getting ready to intone the service. “Shall we go? It shouldn’t take too long, I don’t think. I mean, what is there to say about him?”
Roy would have given her the usual platitudes about Berthold being a good man and a great alchemist, but whilst the latter may have been technically true, neither really rang true to Roy’s ears in regard to Riza. Berthold might have been the one to teach him flame alchemy, but he had also been the one to permanently ink that flame alchemy on Riza’s back and shape the course of her life forever. The words she had spoken to him on that fateful day when she’d shown him the array had always echoed in his mind. What’s done is done. Nothing could change the fact that the tattoo existed, and that Berthold had been the one to put it there. Nothing would ever erase that. Nothing Roy or anyone else could do would ever be able to make that better. Did that mean he didn’t ought to try?
The service was short, just the usual empty words over a plain casket, and Roy hung back as Riza received the well wishes of the few other attendees until she was alone with the headstone again.
Riza sighed. “Is it bad that when everyone says ‘I’m so sorry’, there’s a part of me – a large part – that thinks ‘I’m not’?”
Roy shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. I think given everything, that’s natural.”
“When I looked in on him that morning and found him… I thought I’d feel sad, or that I’d panic, or maybe that I’d just feel numb. But honestly the thing I felt the most was anger. Not because he was dead, that he’d been taken from me in that respect. I wasn’t angry at the world. I wasn’t even really angry at him. I was angry with myself, because I hadn’t done anything, and now he’s dead and I don’t have the chance to call him out for everything he did.”
“It’s not your fault. What could you have done?” He paused. “It’s everyone else who should have been doing something.”
“Hey, don’t blame yourself either. He had just as much of a position of power over you as he did me. In a different way, but I’ve heard cynics say that apprenticing under an alchemist is equivalent to selling your soul to them until you pass your licence.”
“Yeah. But after I passed my licence. Anyway, enough about me. Do you want to come somewhere and talk about it somewhere that’s not a very windy cemetery with rain threatening any moment?”
Riza nodded. “Yeah. I could really use a drink right now.”
Roy smiled. “All right. Come with me.”
It was a quiet and contemplative walk through the city towards the bar, and Roy couldn’t help giving the odd glance sideways over at Riza as they made their way through the damp streets. It had rained earlier, and the clouds were still hanging dark and heavy in the sky. In a way, the weather reflected the entire city – dark, oppressive, unrelenting; constantly hanging over their heads like the Sword of Damocles.
Amestris hadn’t always been like this, according to those who’d seen it in its heyday. Roy was still too young to remember a time before the Fuhrer had come to power and democracy had given way overnight to the grim dictatorship they’d now found themselves living in, but Aunt Chris and Hohenheim remembered it. They’d made the best of things in the best way they knew how – defying the law and doing what was needed anyway.
A part of him wished that they didn’t have to do it, that he could somehow come into a grand inheritance and set them up comfortably for the rest of their days, but he knew them both and he knew they’d still keep doing what they were doing even if money was no object. There were some things that were more important than staying on the right side of the law.
Still, just because they had carved out their own little niche in the new world they lived in didn’t mean that they couldn’t be nostalgic for better times. Aunt Chris wasn’t one for reminiscing, but he’d found her and Hohenheim sharing the good Drachman vodka more than once after last orders had been called.
His thoughts ended up coming full circle round to Berthold and the many arguments they’d got into over Roy’s decision to join the military. Berthold could remember the time before and held no love for the military regime he was now living under. Roy had never known different but knew enough to be well aware that he was becoming part of the problem. With a problem like this, though, with something so well-established and deeply ingrained, it was impossible to effect any sort of change except from within, and when he had first joined the academy, Roy had been naïve enough to think he could be the one to make that change.
Four years later, he was not quite as convinced, but his determination still held fast.
Vanessa was on duty in the bookshop today, and if she seemed surprised to see them coming in at four o’clock in the afternoon then she didn’t show it, simply waving him through without a word. She gave Riza a little more scrutiny, but since she was coming in with him, there wasn’t a lot of point in giving her the third degree. Of everyone who was involved with Madam Christmas’s bar, Roy was the one who was most aware of the need for secrecy. One of the advantages of joining the military and becoming part of the regular city patrols was getting inside knowledge on which premises were about to be raided as suspected liquor hideaways and being able to subtly clear the bookshop from the records. If it was an abuse of power, well, at least it wasn’t hurting anyone like most of the rest of the abuses of power that the military undertook on a regular basis.
Aunt Chris was behind the bar as usual when they got down into it, and she nodded over to a corner table, where Armstrong and Hughes were already sitting with Gracia. Roy turned back to Riza as Hughes waved him over.
“They’re friends and colleagues. We don’t have to join them if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s fine.” Riza smiled. “I think some happy company sounds like a good idea right now.”
“Roy!” Hughes grabbed the coats that had been holding the other chairs at the table. “Is this the girl you were telling us about?”
“This is Riza Hawkeye, yes. She’s Berthold’s daughter. Riza, this is Alex Armstrong and Maes Hughes, and Hughes’ girlfriend Gracia.”
“Actually, Gracia is no longer my girlfriend.”
Roy raised an eyebrow. Considering how giddy Hughes sounded, he highly doubted that there had just been a break-up.
“She’s my fiancée!”
Gracia gave a long-suffering sigh, but the smile in her eyes showed that she still found Hughes’ antics endearing after being with him for a year.
“Congratulations.” Riza took a seat beside Gracia and the two were soon deep in conversation as Roy went over to the bar to get the next round in.
Chris gave him a look.
“I’m glad you’ve turned up. He’s starting to be insufferable. Why did I let you persuade me to allow your friends in?”
“Because you love me.”
“Unfortunately, that’s true.” Chris peered over his shoulder at Riza. “How did it go at the funeral?”
“Much of a muchness, really. What can you say about a man who was a complete recluse dedicated to his research above all else, including his daughter?”
“Roy, you can’t keep beating yourself up about that. And for God’s sake, not now. She’s got enough on her plate; she doesn’t need to prop up your guilt as well. Don’t make her carry more than she has to. If she wants to be mad at you for not rescuing her then that’s her decision and she can do it in her own time.”
She continued to pour the drinks, and Roy leaned back against the bar, watching his friends.
“You’re not subtle,” Chris said behind him. “Who knows? Maybe now that you’re back in touch, you’ll finally ask her out.”
“Madam!”
“I call them how I see them, Roy-Boy. Remember you’ve always got the perfect date location right here.”
“Yeah, with Vanessa and Fiona teasing me every time I go in and out and you watching like a hawk.”
“Freudian slip there?”
“Shut up.”
He grabbed the drinks and brought them back over to the table, where Hughes was now expounding the current barracks rumour mill theory that Tim Marcoh had faked his own death and was now serving as personal physician to the Emperor of Xing. At least Riza was smiling, and although that tired and haunted look behind her eyes had not gone away, he could tell that the smile was genuine.
It was only later, once Armstrong, Hughes and Gracia had left them, that he could recognise the sheer exhaustion and the willpower it was taking her to hold everything together.
“Do you want me to take you home?”
Riza shook her head. “No. Not yet. I don’t think I can face that big empty house knowing that there’s no one else in it and there never will be again. And knowing that I’m going to have to sell it. It’s not the selling it that’s the problem really, I’m not so attached to it. It’s just all the paperwork involved.”
“Well, you don’t have to think about it right now. And I can always stay over if you want.” Riza gave him a sharp look. “I mean on the sofa!” He tried to backtrack. “So that it’s not so big and empty and lonely.”
She laughed. “No, I’ll be ok. I’m just not ready to face it quite yet.” There was a long pause. “Your friends are nice.”
“They can be a bit much, but they mean well.”
“I wasn’t being sarcastic; they really are nice. Although I think Alex’s goodbye hug might have broken all my ribs.”
“Yeah, he’s not good with ‘subtle’.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Riza sat back in her chair, looking up at the ceiling. “The weirdest thing is not knowing what comes next. I’ve never really had any plans. Well, I had plans but they’re not going to work out. I always just thought I’d end up keeping house for my father until… well, until he died. I just hadn’t reckoned on it being so soon. I’ve got my entire life ahead of me and I have no idea what I’m going to do with it. It’s scary, in a way.”
“What were your plans originally?”
Riza shook her head. “It’s stupid.”
“It can’t be that stupid.”
“Fine. I was going to follow in your footsteps. I wanted to join the military and help you do what you’re doing, trying to change the system from within. But then my back happened so that’s out now.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“I’m not really much good for anything else. What other careers require crack shot aiming skills?” Riza snorted. “Looking back I’m honestly surprised he let me near a gun. Maybe he was cocky enough to know I’d never turn it on him.”
Roy wanted to say something, the urge to apologise again bubbling up in the back of his mind, but he squashed it down. Like Chris had said, Riza was dealing with enough conflicted feelings of her own, she didn’t need his guilt as well.
They continued to drink in silence for a while, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Back when he’d first started learning under Berthold, they’d spent quite a lot of time together like this in the kitchen of the Hawkeye home, and it was surprising how easy it was to slip back into that familiarity despite the intervening years.
He was pulled from his thoughts by the drapes along the back wall twitching and Trisha coming out of the clinic. There was a flash of red lightning as Hohenheim transmuted the door into the wall, and then he came out too.
“We’re off,” Trisha said to Chris. “We’re not expecting anyone else tonight, but you know how to get hold of us if there’s an emergency.”
They left the bar hand in hand and Roy watched them go. When he looked back at Riza, her eyes were following them too, with a kind of longing. She had never given voice to anything, at least not in Roy’s earshot, but he’d often had the thought and he knew she must have had it too. Her back meant that she could never be intimate with anyone. Well, at least not without literally trusting them with her life.
“Roy… Would you do me a favour?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t agree yet, you don’t know what it is.”
“Ok. What is it?”
“Will you burn my back?”
“What?”
“I want to get rid of this thing.” Riza wasn’t looking him in the eye, just staring at the dregs in the bottom of her wine glass. “I want it gone so that I can have a normal life and do all the normal things I should be able to do. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of him having control over me even though I just buried him. It doesn’t matter that he’s dead, he’s always going to have this piece of me, and I don’t want it anymore. I just want it to be over.”
“Riza, maybe it would be better if you think on this without three glasses of wine in you.”
The thought of doing it made him feel sick. He was a state alchemist, and he was career military; he knew that he’d be called on to use flame alchemy on people in the future. He knew he would have to use it to kill people. He’d almost made his peace with that pre-emptively, knowing he would hopefully be able to atone for it once he’d worked to make everything better.
Burning Riza though, even at her own request… Hadn’t she already suffered enough at the hands of flame alchemists?
“It’s not a new idea, Roy. I’ve been thinking about it all week.”
“I still think this isn’t the best time to be discussing it. Maybe tomorrow. I’ll come over and we’ll talk about it then. Honestly, Riza, it’s a large area of skin and the damage I’d have to do to destroy it completely, I think it would kill you.”
Riza nodded. “I understand.”
There was a long silence after that, and in the wake of Riza’s request it was an unusually tense one; the uneasiness remaining long after Riza had changed the subject and they were talking freely again. By the time he was walking her back to the Hawkeye house, though, things seemed to have lightened, and Riza seemed to be feeling a little better.
X
Roy had managed to put the conversation to the back of his mind for most of the following day. He’d taken a few days’ leave for the funeral to be there for Riza if she needed him; she had no other relatives to help her out and she’d lived an isolated enough life not to have any real friends either.
It was only when the phone in the bar rang and Chris passed it over to him that he remembered with a jolt what Riza had asked of him, and his heart was in his mouth as he heard her quiet and hitching voice on the other end of the line.
“Roy, I need your help. I’ve made a massive mistake.”
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