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motownfiction · 3 months

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the body

She can pretend all she wants, but Steph knows that the body sleeping next to her in bed this morning is the wrong one.

How did it even happen? She was never into Kevin Sheehan when they were in high school. Sure, she liked him fine, but that was the end of it. He was a slightly funny ginger kid who tried too hard to gain the other guys’ respect, so he never quite got it. When she found out Vicky St. John had been cheating on Nick Crosby with Kevin for most of eleventh grade and all of twelfth, Steph was a little impressed. Nothing beyond that. They had no connection outside civility. Polite laughs and nods in the hallway if one of them was in the other’s way.

And then, all of a sudden, Kevin is all in Steph’s way. On purpose. Because she wanted him to be.

As it turns out, he has some friend over here at Central. Somebody he knew from some camp or another, before the other guy moved away. He and Steph ran into each other, and they clung to each other at the bar all night long. Familiarity breeds … whatever last night was. They talked about how classes were going, what they were planning to major in, how happy they were to be out on their own, living by their own rules. Kevin shoved a handful of fried pickles in his mouth and said that was the beauty of it. If he wanted nothing but fried pickles and illicit beer for dinner, that’s what he would have. Steph said she was partial to late-night ice cream in the dining hall, and Kevin asked if she could show him. She started with vanilla, but she didn’t end there.

He stirs a little, and Steph prays he doesn’t wake up. She doesn’t want to talk to him because she’s worried she’ll start talking about all the wrong people again. Sam and Jill and everyone who makes her feel like things could be OK. Kevin deserves better than that. He’s not the right guy for Steph, but he deserves someone who wants him here for more than a night. Steph doesn’t have to know him well to know he’s a relationship guy, just like she’s a relationship girl.

That’s why it hurts to look at Jill, who wants to keep her options open.

Steph hears the door open, and she jumps out of her skin – embarrassing, seeing that’s all she’s wearing. Jill walks in, wearing last night’s clothes, and Steph wants to die.

Jill looks her up and down.

“Looks like you had fun,” she says. “I did, too.”

She kicks off her shoes, pulls off her sheer tights, and rolls into bed. Somehow, Kevin Sheehan sleeps like a brick through all of this.

Steph lies down and closes her eyes as tightly as she can.

Maybe she’s the wrong body in this room.

(part of @nosebleedclub january challenge -- day 18!)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: steph armstrong #ch: kevin sheehan #ch: jill edwards #year: 1985

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theliteraryluggage · 3 months

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I will go down punching (but I will go down)

Vox Populi part I

Fullmetal Alchemist | Canon-Divergence

M | Gen | Ch 3/14 | Chose Not To Warn | Heavy Angst | Hurt Edward Elric

“Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist?”, the man asked. “Yeah. Who’s asking?” The man didn’t reply, just gestured to the Briggs prison guard who stepped forward to unlock the door to their cell. Before Ed could feel anything like relief, though, he spoke again. “Edward Elric, you are court-martialed under suspicion of committing human transmutation and are to be transferred to a Central prison to stand trial.”

What if General Armstrong decided against trusting the Elric brothers? What if Ed was really court-martialed for human transmutation? What if the Military put the Fullmetal Alchemist on trial?

Chapter 3 is posted!!!

#fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma fanfic #nihi writes stuff #vox populi

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cybrctrl · 3 years

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It was the twin’s 14th birthday and the rest of the Armstrong family tried to have lively spirits for the occasion. Most of them have lost hope that Elisabeth would ever return. Almost four months have passed since then.

#ts4 decades challenge #ts4 legacy #ts4 story #ts4 gameplay #sims decades challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #the armstrong legacy #gen 1 #1890s #ch: consuelo armstrong #ch: edward armstrong #ch: ruth armstrong #ch: juliet armstrong #ch: edward ii armstrong #ch: osvaldo armstrong

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anthropwashere · 3 years

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our indestructible days ch 4

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3

Al time Al time

(also Mei is sick and tired of these motherfucking homunculi in these motherfucking teenagers)

Mei's gotten blood on the splintered ruin of his chest. Her small hands trace the rough edges of his damage with soft and hurting sounds. Alphonse lifts one hand to pass a thumb across her eyebrow, smearing the cut before it can spill into her eye.

"I'll be okay," he assures her. His body might be broken again, but that's nothing to be worried about. Pain has been an absence in him for a long time now, and here she is spilling over with it.

"Lay still!" She admonishes, then whimpers. She's small, smaller than Ed was when he was her age. She must have bones like a songbird’s; easily broken. "Y-you're going to fall apart even more if you aren't careful!"

"I'll be okay," he repeats. Maybe she'll hear him this time. "You need to get out of here. You're too hurt to fight anymore."

"So are you!"

He's not hurt, not really, and as long as the blood seal isn't damaged he'll be safe laying here until the battle's over. He's not sure if there's enough of him left for Ed to transmute without risk, but that's a concern for later. His armor rings with the furious rattle of nearby gunfire, the thunderous booming of mortars. Mei Chang is small and wholly human, and this isn't her fight at all.

"I'll be okay," he repeats again. There's nothing else he can tell her. He's always okay.

"If we're careful, Xiao Mei and I can—"

"Stop," he interrupts, not unkindly. "You're hurt and I don't have legs right now. I'm too big for you to carry."

Her dark eyes are shiny with pain but she still manages an impressive harrumph! "You doubt the strength of the Chang princess? I'll have to prove you wrong on the honor of—oh!"

"What?" She's gone rigid and breathless, hunching over him as she looks at something further off than he can strain to see. "What's wrong?"

"There... there's three of them again," she whispers. "Three homunculi."

"But—" Father's one of them, obviously. And Greed, him and Ling are out there fighting too. The third though, that can only be—

"It's definitely Pride," Mei confirms. She's slipped a hand into her sash, no doubt readying a fresh fistful of knives. Just in case. "But I can't see him anywhere. Can you?"

"No." The last place Al saw him was down in Father's throne room, a ribbon of shadow wrapped brutally tight around Ed's left arm. He strains to sit up, to get a better look, to see— "My brother—do you see him? Is he okay? Mei, please—"

"He's fine! Please don't exert yourself!" Her small hands touch his shoulder, trying to force him down again. He only knows because he happens to see her doing it in his peripheral. "Their Father attacked Edward, and your Teacher too, but the soldiers saved them both! I swear!"

Relief floods him, a tension that isn't exactly tension as he remembers it easing in him. It isn't relaxing, it isn't easing. It's like allowing himself to forget for a moment the enormous weight his small blood seal is carrying. He sinks back, ignoring the scrape and clatter of his pieces. "O-oh. Oh, thank goodness. Thank you. Where are they now?"

"Two soldiers took your Teacher elsewhere for a few minutes. She's fighting again now, and she seems to be doing fine. Edward ran toward, ah, Central Command?"

"Yeah," he confirms automatically, wondering why Ed would run away from the fight. It's not like Ed to run. Does he have a plan, maybe? Something he needs some distance for? Or a better angle? He can usually guess what Ed's thinking, but this is….

This doesn't make sense.

"I lost sight of him in the smoke." Mei hesitates, looking toward the western wing of Central Command that's still standing. "Alphonse, I'm sorry, but that's where I'm sensing Pride too."

It's an easy conclusion from there. "Oh, of course! Pride must have run from their fight, and Brother's making sure he doesn't get away!" Al's relieved laughter is nearly lost in another burst of firepower—literally, as the Colonel's taking point again, Lieutenant Hawkeye directing his attacks. Mei dips low as wind whips her braids wildly, her little hands white-knuckled on his sharp edges. The armor must be getting painfully hot with how close the Colonel's attacks have come. He desperately wishes he could get up and protect her, join in the fight again, something. But he's simply too broken now.

It strikes him out of nowhere, how absurd everything's become. Barely a year ago his biggest concern had been getting his body and Ed's limbs back, and keeping a running list of tasty-sounding food to try once he could eat again. That all seems so long ago, now.

Mei stiffens, Xiao Mei snarling on her shoulder. "He's getting closer!"

Al doesn't have to ask who she means. Father hasn't moved from the center of the parade field, and Greed's made it clear which side of this fight he's on. "Get out of here! Before he sees you—"

Ed strides out of the thinning smoke, hands fisted at his sides and jaw stubbornly set, and the world makes sense again.

Al struggles to his elbows, wishing he could run, desperate to pull Ed into a brief but fervent hug. "Brother!"

"Look, he's fine," Ed drawls in a tone of voice that's distinctly other in a way Al couldn't describe if pressed, yet all the same dread knocks the joy clean out of him even before ink-black shadows rise, serpentine, behind Ed. When Ed looks down at them his yellow eyes are empty tunnels. Then his face shifts, the shadows twitch, and Ed's rushing to his side. "Are you crazy? He's not fine, he's in pieces! Al, hey, are you—"

One of Mei's knives appears in Ed's left shoulder like a magic trick, its pink ribbon fluttering.

"Get away from him," she orders imperiously, on her feet with another three knives at the ready. Her face is a wax mask of pain, but her outstretched hand is steady.

Ed looks at her, not surprised but—resigned? He brings his right hand up to touch her knife, a ting of metal against metal. Belatedly, he winces. "...Jeez, Mei. You didn't have to do that."

All wrong. This is all wrong. Ed wouldn't act like this—wouldn't react like this. He'd holler hurt, curse up and down, insult Mei horribly. But he just stays kneeling, a curl of something like—like shame to his mouth. "Ed...?"

Ed's face shifts again, his right hand dropping like dead weight. Ed sneers. "Are you really so oblivious?" He reaches left-handed for Mei's knife, yanking it out without a flicker of pain on his face. Al doesn't see so much as a drop of blood before red light heals the wound like it never existed. The unmistakable crackle of a transmutation, and red light can only mean one thing. Another bizarre expression crawls across his face, settling on a far more familiar sneer. Ed's derision. Ed's disappointment. Ed's bitter laughter. "If this is a win in your book then it's no wonder your Promised Day has turned out to be such a shitshow."

Ed's voice warps and warbles, gaining and losing an awful, malicious echo. Distantly, Al registers the familiar shapes of Teacher and Major Armstrong giving it their all against Father not so very far away. The outcome of today's battle seems, suddenly, wholly unimportant. "You...? Edward, you're—you're a homunculus?"

Ed's face softens as his hands hover over his armor. "Al—Alphonse. Hey. I'm sorry. I didn't—it wasn't like Ling, okay? Pride forced his Stone into me. I couldn't—I tried to fight him, but—" Ed takes a shivering breath, knocking his right hand's knuckles against the shrapnel of Al's chest. Ting. "Jeez. What even happened while we were down there?"

"He protected me," Mei pipes up, glaring fiercely.

Ed smiles. "Did he? I'm glad." He shivers again, shuttering his eyes. When he opens them again they've gone horribly flat, a mirror to Selim's cold cunning in all but the color, but his voice still sounds Ed-adjacent. "Can you keep an eye on him for me, Mei? There's no time to fix him now."

"I'm not sure I'd let you try even if there were," she retorts. "Not with one of those monsters inside you!"

Another shift of Ed's face, and then thick shadows splash inside Al's broken chest like waves on a beach, skirting his blood seal. He feels the barest brush of tiny claws scratching at the metal around it. It's all he can do to keep from crying out. "Foolish girl," the monster possessing Ed spits. "Do you really think so little of Edward Elric? He's fought me every step of the way. I've had to take a firm hand with his soul to get this far."

Pride gestures. Mei gasps, failing to smother it behind her bloody hands. For a moment Al thinks Pride's hurt her, sunk his shadows into her skin beyond where he can easily see, but she's not bleeding or writhing or anything like that. She's just—staring, horrified, at Ed. Al strains for a better look and feels the world stutter in terrible shock.

Ed has two legs again.

His left pant leg has been cut short, all the way up to his mid-thigh, and the entire leg is just... normal. There's a perfectly normal, flesh-and-bone leg where Al's become accustomed to seeing layered steel. There isn't even a trace of the thick scar tissue that's darkened Ed's thigh since his outfitting.

"He—he cut it off," Ed whispers. "To—stop me from—I mean, I—I kinda woke up, inside the—his Philosopher's Stone, or whatever, and he was.... I heard him and I looked out and he was… he’d killed—" Ed shudders again, gasping. Teeth split the black shadow curling at his knees, and Pride's voice echoes his. "What did you do, Pride? What did you do to them?!"

Al wants to grab hold of Ed, wants to shake sense and sanity into him again, but the shadows pooling inside his armor are circling even closer to his blood seal. Unbidden he finds himself thinking of stories he's read of sailors and pirates on the high seas, of shipwrecks and dark water and sleepless predators circling. He knows that if he moves now they'll all regret it. "E-Edward."

Ed snarls. After a tense few seconds the shadows pull back. "Sorry, sorry, I—I'm sorry." His exhale comes out loud and shaky as he drags his hands over his face. "I asked you a question, Pride."

A pause.

"Are you lying? If you are, I swear I'll—"

A pause.

"What about him? You think I'm gonna trust anything he says either?"

A pause.

"Shut up, stop laughing. They went where?"

A final pause, and then Ed sighs heavily, glancing at the hole in the parade field they'd all come out of. "Fine. I'm holding you to that."

Did Greed and Ling ever speak like this? It's frightening, to see Ed clinging to control over his own body. Fresh explosions ring in his broken armor and Al forcibly puts his concerns aside. Ed's alive. That has to be enough, for now. "Pride?"

Ed twitches, his eyes going flat and cold. "What?"

"You—you could have killed Edward, but you didn't."

"Not for lack of trying."

How cruel. How indifferent. Al can't begin to understand this thing wearing his brother's face. He's not sure he even wants to try. "I don't think that's true. Promise me, please—"

Guttural screaming from shockingly nearby cuts him off. Dazzling red light fills his vision briefly; when it clears he catches sight of Teach and Major Armstrong again, scattered like autumn leaves.

Ed swears, already on his feet and running off, and this time Al can't go chasing after him to make sure he doesn't do anything crazy. "There's no time! Mei, take care of Al for me!"

"Ed—! Brother!"

But Ed doesn't look back.

#fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #my writing

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maisstories · 5 years

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Why the Hell Do You Think I Drew Attention to My Sword? Ch. 2

Fandoms: Fullmetal Alchemist and Harry Potter

Genres: Romance, adventure, family, science, politics

Pairings: Olivier Armstrong/Roy Mustang, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell, Alphonse Elric/Mei Chan (developing)

Summary: Roy Mustang and Olivier Armstrong arrive at the Wizarding World and negotiations begin. Not everything is as it seems on the surface. It’s a pity they are the only ones to realize as much.Meanwhile, in Amestris, they continue with their efforts to learn as much as possible from this other world.

Read on AO3

Read on ffnet

#sticks and circles #Why the Hell Do You Think I Drew Attention to My Sword?#royolivier #Roy Mustang #Olivier Mira Armstrong #olivier armstrong #update #fma fanfiction #Fullmetal Alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #hp fanfiction #harry potter #Crossovers

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winryofresembool · 6 years

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Love Can Melt the Ice, ch. 12

Aka ice skating au ch. 12!

A/N: That’s right my peeps, this fic /finally/ has a name. I hope you find it fitting! (Obviously I’m not referring to literal ice this time, but instead a certain character who’s acting a bit cool sometimes :P) I don’t really have much else to say this time, enjoy and review! This chapter continues directly from the events of last chapter :)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5.5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Companion pieces (note: these are all post Olympics happenings so reading the main fic first is recommended): 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Next chapter: [x]

Words: 1940+

Genre: flooof in this chapter, even a tiny bit of humor? (I feel we are back to ch 1 in a way)

Warnings: swearing and some drinking on the background

“So, how’s everything going, brother? How’s your leg?” Al asked when he and Ed made their way into a quieter corner in the room. With the room full of Ed’s teammates and music playing loudly, it was hard to hear your own thoughts, but the brothers decided to at least try since they had a lot of catching up to do.

“I wish I could already get rid of the cast, but other than that, it’s fine. I just want to skate already.”

“I’m sorry, brother,” Al said with genuine sympathy. “Hey, I brought something to cheer you up.”

Al handed Ed a gift bag and he took it curiously. Inside it was a book that Ed recognized as one he had wanted for a long while, Advanced Biochemistry, but much to Ed’s surprise, it wasn’t the only gift. There was something between the book. Two small, thin foliage packages that must have had…

“Al!” Ed yelled with a red face. “How the fuck did you… why… what the hell is this supposed to mean?!”

“Thought you’d need some extra protection with the way your love life has been progressing…” Al chuckled. “I know you well enough to know that you’d never have the guts to get them by yourself.”

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you. We aren’t even dating!”

“It’s funny you say that when you both are practically undressing each other with your eyes every time you look at each other.” Al pointed out, nodding towards Winry significantly.

“I’m not… Fine, she’s hot,” Ed said through his teeth, “but surely I’m not the only the only one who’s noticed that! Just look at Havoc trying to tell her jokes…”

“She doesn’t look too impressed,” Al noted. “Oh, look at that, she’s coming here. Hi there, Winry!”

“Hi guys.” She turned to Ed and noted his mortified expression. “Why are you so red? You sure you don’t have a fever or something?”

Ed didn’t have time to answer when Roy started speaking into the mic and everyone turned their attention to him.

“So, as you all know, we have all gathered here to celebrate the 18th birthday of our very own Fullmetal Forward, Edward Elric. Congrats, kid! Now that you’re officially allowed to buy alcohol, don’t forget the promise you made me!”

“Hah, you haven’t won anything yet!” was Ed’s immediate response, and everyone burst out laughing.

“Anyway, I’d like to suggest we sing for the birthday boy. Everyone, on the count of three. One, two, three.”

Roy gave his sign, and the choir of more and less talented singers started: “Happy biiirthday too you, happy biiirthday too you…”

Ed felt a bit overwhelmed when a room full of people sang for him but waved his thanks when they finished. Soon Roy continued speaking to the crowd:

“Before we let Fullmetal give us, without a doubt, a very amazing speech, there are a couple of other people in this room as well we should congratulate. The little birds have told me that in less than a year this team will have a brand new member. Congrats, Maes and Gracia! Your kid will without a doubt become an amazing skater.”

Nearby, Maes started rambling about the greatness of his future wife to anyone who was willing to listen, but Winry barely noticed because she squealed happily at the news and rushed to hug Gracia who had been approaching the trio.

“A baby! That’s absolutely wonderful! I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Aw, thanks Winry-dear. I got the confirmation from my doctor about an hour after the free skate. I’m gonna have to discuss this with him and Maes, but with this piece of news, I think I might skip the individual competition.”

“But you would have done amazingly…” Winry said, upset for her friend.

“Maybe, but I’ve seen you skating and I dare to say you would beat me 9 times out of 10 these days. And I already won gold 4 years ago, so really, I’m not too upset. How could I be when I look at him?”

She turned to see her fiancé flailing as he told Riza, the only person patient enough to listen to him ramble for ages, how he would decorate the baby’s room and how he secretly (or not so secretly) wished the baby was a girl.

Ed hadn’t had a chance to say anything while the women were chattering, but now he decided it was his turn to get himself heard.

“Congrats, Gracia! I’m sure you’re gonna be a great mother, but I’m a bit worried about your fiancé. I bet he’s that person whose locker will be 100% covered with photos of the kid and he’ll forget how to skate when he keeps staring at them.”

“Don’t worry, I will make sure to kick his butt if he starts slacking because of it,” Gracia smirked.

“That’s good to hear. But seriously, I’m happy for you guys. Babies are amazing!”

“Thank you. I think someone’s gonna be one lucky lady to be a mother to your kids in the future, Edward.” Ed wondered if it was just him or did Gracia look at Winry one second longer than necessary when she said that. And did she emphasize the word someone? He felt himself getting flustered for the second time within minutes and he was about to turn away when Winry asked, pointing to the pack still in Ed’s hand:

“Did you get a present from Al? What did he give you?”

“J-just a biochem book…” he stuttered and left before she could ask more questions. Damn Al. He’d show him. Speaking of the devil, Ed noticed his little brother was snickering almost uncontrollably nearby after seeing the scene between Ed and Winry unfold.

“Are you trying to kill me?” the older brother growled and punched Al on the shoulder when he got close enough.

“Relax, bro, it was just a joke! I won’t change my mind about you two though, I have never seen you this flustered over a girl before. It’s adorable. I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier, so did you tell her?”

“Yeah, I did. I hate to admit it, but you were right. I do feel better now. And things… are going quite nicely.” He turned his head towards the spot where Winry chatted with her friends (Paninya and Rose had joined her and Gracia now) and Winry gave him a small smile.

“That’s great to hear,” Al interrupted Ed from his thoughts. “Hey, I heard Mustang saying something about a speech, so how about it?”

“Do I have a choice?” Ed sighed and wheeled to where the captain of his team was clearly waiting for him. Taking the mic from his hand, he started:

“It’s so weird to see so many of you here! To be honest, if it weren’t for a couple of friends, I wouldn’t even have remembered what day it is. And the worst part is that I’m not even allowed to drink because of my condition!”

Many of Ed’s teammates laughed. They knew Ed had never particularly cared about drinking.

“I’m not one for long speeches, so I guess thank you everyone for coming, and special thanks to that one gearhead who made this happen.” His gaze met Winry’s for a moment, and he thought he could see her blushing slightly. “Now, let’s have some fun! But not too fun…” His gaze stopped at Havoc this time. “… because some of you have a big game tomorrow!”

The guests chuckled and continued their partying. Mustang was now dancing with Riza, Havoc was having a drinking contest with Breda despite Ed’s warning, Armstrong was wiping his tears into a huge tissue, Paninya was trying to sneak a small bottle from Roy’s back pocket and Al was probably telling Winry some embarrassing stories about Ed. For some reason, all of that made Ed feel calmer than he had felt in a long while.

Later that evening, Winry was sitting alone on the balcony, enjoying the fresh, cool air when Ed appeared behind her.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Why are you sitting here alone?”

“I guess I just wanted a moment to hear my thoughts. No offense, but you hockey players are loud.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” Ed rubbed the back of his head. “But your friends are kinda interesting bunch as well. You should have seen Havoc’s expression when that Paninya chick made a show of kissing Rose right in front of him. It was almost as if his hopes and dreams had both been shattered into pieces and fulfilled at the same time.”

“Oh, that definitely sounds like a Pan thing to do,” Winry laughed. “They’re great though. After losing my parents they’ve become like a new family to me. I guess you could say the same about your team.”

“I guess…”

“You said you have tried to push people out of your life, but you know, one way or another, you have affected all of them,” she gestured towards the full room. “They all care about you. And for some weird reason, so do I. You don’t have to carry your weight alone.

“Yeah…”

“I guess what I really wanted to tell you after our chat earlier is that if you think you’re the only person in this world who’s feeling guilty about something, I have some news for you. For so many weeks, I kept thinking that things would be so different if I had simply told my parents to not go into that car. Finally, my granny wrenched some sense into me and told me that I can’t change my past, but I can chance how it affects my future. It didn’t sink into me right away, but I understand what she meant now. I’m not saying that I’m never thinking about it anymore, because that’s a lie, but I know my parents would want me to live my life, so that’s what I’m doing. And that’s what you should do as well.”

Ed stared at her with surprise. He realized Winry’s words were very similar to the ones he had used when confronting Rose, but he wasn’t living by his own advice.

“I probably deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.” Her tone got softer when she continued: “By the way, I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. We are way past that point now.”

For some reason, Winry’s statement made Ed remember the realities of their situation, and he asked: “How are we gonna stay in touch after the Olympics, though? We are both busy with our sports, traveling on different sides of the country and sometimes even out of country.” “Phones exist, Elric. If you know how to use one. And it’s not like I’m always gone, there are off-seasons, breaks, and so on… And to be honest, at the moment I can’t say how long I’m gonna continue my skating career. I’m kinda itching to move onto mechanics soon enough.

“Sounds like you have already given a lot of thought to your future.”

“What about you, though? Do you have any plans?”

“I want to continue playing as long as I can and study as much as I can. Maybe I have some other wishes as well, but… one day you might know.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

Ed leaned his head against hers and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder. They stayed like that for a good while, until the tender moment was interrupted by a crash inside the restaurant.

“What was that?” Winry asked worriedly.

Ed just sighed. “I think it’s time to take Havoc back to the hotel.”

#edwin #edward elric #winry rockbell #my fics #fullmetal alchemist #ice skating au #that has a name wooo!#i'm so stupid happy about that #ps. sorry for the possible typos

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tsaritsa · 7 years

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a strange fate with wandering limbs / ch v

this story can also be found on ff.net or ao3.

FIRST CHAPTER PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER

On June 19th, Riza Hawkeye falls asleep at approximately 11.28pm. On June 20th, she doesn’t wake up.

Havoc and Breda arrive back at Fuery’s apartment later that evening, carrying boxes of pizza, Black Hayate trotting after them. He perks up once he sees Fuery, his tongue lolling out and sniffing at the boxes that Havoc places onto the coffee table.

“I’ve made all the necessary calls,” says Fuery, grabbing plates from the kitchen and placing them by the pizza. “The funeral’s been set for Thursday morning.”

Breda nods, setting himself down on the sofa, shrugging off his wool coat. “The General’s with Madame – the medics had to tranquilise him.”

Fuery tries his best not to show the shock on his face, opting instead to rub Hayate’s head. “That bad?” he asks quietly. Breda nods, grabbing some pepperoni pizza.

“This was different from when Brigadier General Hughes was murdered-”

“That’s just it though, isn’t it?” asks Havoc, sitting down on the floor and opening the second box of pizza. “At least then he had some purpose – but now-”

“He still has purpose, Jean,” Breda says firmly. “If we start thinking otherwise it’s a lost cause.” He turns to Fuery. “Madame said she’ll be picking up Lilibet tomorrow morning.”

“Did you grab them?”

Havoc nods, leaning back against the couch as he picks at the olives on his pizza. “They’re in my coat pocket.” He motions to the hallway where he left his satchel. “There’s a few others in my bag that I wasn’t sure about. You and Breda can decide what to do with them.” The man sighs, putting his plate back on the table. “What’s our plan for tomorrow?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes.

“You and Fuery will need to show up,” Breda replies. “If we’re all gone East City will know by lunchtime tomorrow.”

Havoc snorts. “They don’t already?”

Fuery shakes his head, scratching behind Hayate’s ears. “I kept an ear on the comms this morning. Nobody’s overly suspicious – apparently Mary from archives was found to be having an affair with Second Lieutenant Harvey. Mrs Harvey came by at lunchtime.”

“Thank fuck for Mary from archives,” Breda mutters. “I’ll go back to her apartment tomorrow and clean it up – I don’t suppose you guys would know where she hid her files?”

Havoc frowns. “Check her ammo boxes – the ones for her twenty-two. She’s had that gun since before Ishval.”

There’s an awkward silence that reigns over them. It’s oppressive and dense and Fuery desperately wants to break it – but he’s too muddled inside: his heart is in his gut and he nearly threw up as soon as he heard ‘Louise’. But he had a job to do, so he swallowed it all back down and made the necessary arrangements.

Inform the next in the chain of command. Take the required files from the General’s office. Don’t arouse suspicion.

The ‘Louise’ failsafe had been in place since his first day under the General’s command. What had the man said when he was explaining it? If I never have to hear that name for as long as I live, I’ll die a happy man.

Fuery draws himself out of his thoughts. Now was not the time to ruminate and analyse and consider. “Her obituary will be in the Eastern Evening tomorrow.” The words are cloying in his mouth – sticky and sweet in a way that is wholly wrong. “I tried to get it for Wednesday morning, but the undertaker said there needed to be more time between it and the funeral.” He says the words carefully, enunciates his consonants clearly. Any less and he won’t be capable of coherent sound. Hayate whines besides him, licking his palm. “I intercepted the radio chatter from Parkview General as well.”

Havoc opens his eyes blearily. “What did they say?”

Fuery pauses, breathing deeply. “No suspicious circumstances. She died at around three in the morning. Heart attack. They doubt she even felt it.”

Breda rubs at his temples. “There’s a little blessing in there, I’m sure,” he mutters sarcastically. He looks to the younger man – and Fuery notices the lines around his eyes. Perhaps it is a good thing Breda won’t come into work tomorrow. He has a good poker face – Fuery knows all too well from unfortunate experience – but there is no fun in hiding this sort of secret. There is no prize to be won – nor a prize that any of them care for. The fallout will be awful regardless of when the rest of Eastern Command finds out: at least in this way they can try to sort through it on their own before others suddenly appear wanting to know and how and when and where.

I’m so sorry and we’re all thinking of you will beat a tattoo into his skull, reverberating and echoing into the corners of his existence. Fuery is grateful he is so often overlooked now. He doubts he could cope with it otherwise.

“Who knows?” Breda asks, grabbing another slice of pizza.

Fuery thinks for a moment before replying. Each name leaves his mouth tasting of ash. “Rebecca. Vato. The Elric-Rockbells. Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong.”

Breda nods. “They take it alright?”

“Rebecca’s gone to Madame’s. Vato’s coming on the train tonight. Edward said he’d try to get in contact with Alphonse if I couldn’t – they should be here by Wednesday morning at the earliest. The Lieutenant-Colonel…” he pauses here. It had been an expected reaction, but it had not made it any easier. How the man came out of Ishval in one piece would always surprise Fuery. “He’s keeping an eye on the chatter in Central for me – as soon as he hears anything he’ll be letting me know.”

“Is it safe to assume that the General Armstrong also knows?”

Fuery shrugs. “I don’t think it will matter if she does or not. Though Vato’s sudden departure may give her reason enough to be suspicious.”

There’s silence in the apartment as they eat their food quietly. Fuery savours it, committing to memory this simple moment where their grieving is private and sacred.

Tomorrow it will not be.

#royai #fullmetal alchemist #fma fanfiction #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #kain fuery #jean havoc #heymans breda #fma #my fanfic

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cosmotread-blog · 6 years

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NASA Flies Large Unmanned Aircraft in Public Airspace Without Chase Plane for First Time

New Post has been published on https://www.cosmotread.com/2018/08/18/nasa-flies-large-unmanned-aircraft-in-public-airspace-without-chase-plane-for-first-time/

NASA Flies Large Unmanned Aircraft in Public Airspace Without Chase Plane for First Time

NASA Flies Large Unmanned Aircraft in Public Airspace Without Chase Plane for First Time NASA’s remotely-piloted Ikhana aircraft, based at the agency’s Armstrong Flight Research Center in Edwards, California, successfully flew its first mission in the National Airspace System without a safety ch...

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ao3feed-fma · 6 years

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Not Your Average Fairytail

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2FWmpLA

by YokuMiya

Once upon a time...no. This is not your average fairytale. There's rape, smut, blood, and a happy ending (and POSSIBLE sequel) Edvy rape with some RoyEd goodness afterwards. Written for a contest I held in ch 3 of Who's Who so I finally wrote, typed and posted it. YAY!

This is the first of my four fics from fanfiction dot net that I'm transferring to here.

Words: 4790, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Categories: M/M

Characters: Edward Elric, Roy Mustang, Envy, Alex Louis Armstrong, Maes Hughes, Riza Hawkeye, Team Mustang, Alphonse Elric, Winry Rockbell

Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang, Edward Elric/Envy (NonCon)

Additional Tags: Probably a shit ton of other characters, Wrote this in 2013, moved from fanfiction dot net, cant remember if I aged up Ed or not, bloody but probably not as graphic as implied, Hughes lives because I said so., one of the worst things i've ever written, personally i think it's well written, but the content made me want to cry, Read at Your Own Risk

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2FWmpLA

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #FMA #FMAB #Fullmetal Alchemist

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motownfiction · 11 months

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tiny bunny

One night toward the end of their freshman year at Central, Steph and Jill stay up all night, talking about what kind of animals they’d be. It’s the kind of conversation that seems very important, especially when you know your romance is about three and a half weeks away from dying. Steph will move into one dorm, Jill will move into another, and there will be no reason to keep up anymore. They both know it. It’s just that they haven’t said it.

Steph thinks Jill would be a lioness. Beautiful, swift, and bold. If it hadn’t been for Jill’s initiative, her self-assuredness, her penchant for risks, Steph’s almost certain she never would have met the other half of herself. Jill pounces, but she doesn’t see anybody else as prey. It’s a difficult thing to do, but if anybody can pull it off, it’s Jill. Lovely, lovely Jill.

When Steph thinks about moving dorms for next year, she thinks she may vomit.

Jill thinks Steph would be a tiger. Mysterious, brash, and beautiful, too. It’s been years since Jill kissed a girl for the first time, but when she saw Steph, she could no longer pretend those kisses were cute accidents. There was just something enchanting about her. No, not enchanting. Bewitching. She actually uses that word, and Steph turns bright red. It’s very nice of Jill to say she’s like a tiger, but she also knows Jill is wrong. Steph wouldn’t be a tiger. She wouldn’t be a tiger at all.

She is a tiny bunny.

Underneath all the impulsiveness, all the art, and all the bragging, she’s scared. She’s scared, and she’s out in the open. She doesn’t know what to do with herself. Every little noise terrifies her. Every little disruption. She’d die if anyone found out how she really feels about Jill. She’ll die if Jill ever forgets her name. It’s everything and nothing. But it’s all enough to give Steph a heart attack.

All that bravery, she says to Jill around four in the morning. It’s all an act.

Jill looks up at the ceiling and laughs out profundities.

Everything’s an act, Jill says. It’s just about whether or not you’re OK with it.

Steph doesn’t know how to answer that. She just feels her heart beating out of time and into her poor, defenseless throat. She falls asleep, but she’s not sure for how long.

(part of @nosebleedclub june challenge -- day viii! i know the prompt was just bunny, but i already have a vignette by that name. i had to improvise!)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: steph armstrong #ch: jill edwards #year: 1986

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motownfiction · 1 year

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epic

Steph has to take one English literature class for her degree. Technically, she could have chosen from a number of classes in a number of subjects. But English literature seemed to scream at her. Take me, take me, Stephanie, take me. When she wasn’t sure why the course listing would be calling out to her with her full name, she knew she had to register. And here she is, now, reading epic poems from what feels like the ancient world.

Her professor swears it is not the ancient world. Medieval times weren’t that long ago, she says, if you think about it. But people say that about all sorts of bygone eras: the 50s, the 20s, the American Revolution, if you’re standing next to the wrong person for too long. People like to keep their favorite things current, Steph thinks. For her English professor, that means Medieval epic poems.

It knocks the wind right out of her, but in the middle of one class meeting, Steph understands why people keep reading this old stuff. It gets her. And if it gets her, who knows what it’s doing for other people who are out there reading it, too?

This week, the professor asks them to read Beowulf, which Steph pretended to read once in eleventh grade and then promptly forgot about it as soon as she took the unit test. And initially, that’s what she’s planning to do in this class: just skim the words and forget about them after she writes a so-so paper. That’s just not what happens.

Because as soon as Steph starts skimming, she realizes she needs to keep reading.

It’s like these old words are connecting her to some part of the world – some part of herself – that’s far away but still needs her. She can’t make it stop. Every time she wants to close the big heavy book and enjoy herself for an hour or two, she can’t. That stupid epic poem sucks her right back in. It’s like torture. Steph stopped thinking of herself as cool at the start of ninth grade, but she never thought of herself as a dork. She never thought of herself as someone who would read Beowulf, with all of its monsters and swords, and enjoy it. But here she is, curled up like a pretzel in her dorm room, reading the hell out of some ancient people’s songs.

One night as they’re getting ready to go to bed (in separate beds tonight, Steph says, so that she can finish her assignment before class in the late morning), Jill asks if Steph wants to be like Beowulf. To her own surprise, Steph says no.

“No,” she says again. “I think I want to be Grendel.”

Jill chuckles.

“Grendel?” she repeats. “Isn’t he, like, the monster?”

“Totally.”

“Why do you want to be him?”

Steph looks up at the ceiling in case the right words are there. In so many ways, they are. When she makes eye contact with Jill again, she knows exactly what to say.

“Come on. You know the monster always has more fun.”

Jill gives her that look that only Jill has ever been able to give her. Steph’s not sure how she would describe it – only that she’d need an epic poet to even begin.

“Damn straight,” Jill says. “You get some sleep, monster.”

Steph can’t be sure, but she’s pretty sure she falls asleep smiling.

(part of @nosebleedclub february challenge -- day ix!)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: steph armstrong #ch: jill edwards #year: 1986

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