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usagisbanexd · 1 year

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+ SUPER SOLDIER SAILOR STARS #08 * _) _) >>C===3 :-* Kawaii Slash Lovers Collide Cosmic Paradise // Sailor Moon/Pokémon/Potterverse Altfic Crossover, CHAPTER 1.0.008

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Fanfic. LGBT+. Mature.

1.0.008 SAILORGANYMEDE RESCUES MAKO~CHAN FROM HELLFIRE INFERNO // GANY IN THE DESERT BORN FROM HIS MOTHER MAKOTO

“I love your tongue,” says Ganymede, watching Mako from her ill-gotten vantage, watching as she picks a flower for springtime, watching her green felt velvet couture space dress skirt flap like a flag longing against her leg. Mako the god. Mako the justice warrior. Mako with the smile.

All the little wives of Jupiter dance through her fingers in waves of blossoming straw. ‘We love you, goddess!’ says the Daisy, thinking in her own green mind to hide her roots from prying claws. No love of Jupiter’s alone should make it out alive. Her tenderness does strangle us at root.

Ganymede longs for love, the crown Furuhata-san wears the milkman’s cap, neighborhood cuck, neighborhood madman, neighborhood hero, arboreal wheat, weatherbeaten, his hands sweaty on the knife, planting flowers of his own, seeing clearly through time it is her voice which calls him, her voice through fair Ganymede. Come to Jupiter, she says, winnowy, arboreal, helium-high, hysterical aerial Erica.

“I’m the flower in the pot on the kitchen sill! Teehee!” says Ganymede to Motoki’s brain, and inside Jupiter’s own mind Minerva’s born splitting from the tissues like the bloom of a gun from a metal spout, the bloom of bullets grandly arrayed like a symphony in soaked and slobbering flesh tone. Motoki masturbates. Jupiter calls.

“Hello,” says Motoki.

“Moto-chan!” says Haruka, diving her nose in where it doesn’t belong. The world is ending and Makoto needs to make a phone call, needs to knit a another bootie for a friend’s cousin’s baby, needs to rearrange the flower pots on her sill, ninety five little senshi all in a row, little cartoon-faced flowers cooing always to their mistress ‘Stay! It’s a fright to go outside!’ Makoto feels it in her gut. Motoki stays.

“Hi,” he says, his voice estranged, her weirdness palatable in the gloom. Why ninety-five monsters? Why not ninety-five birds?

They like weeds ensnare me to this earth, thinks Makoto, her eye upon Ganymede, her youngest and most gorgeous rose, vestigial blood vestigial perfume on the color of his outermost petal, a song against his cheek, so delicate, so beaut, so unresponsive to the touch of men. So monks do climb their towers in prayer. So boxing gloves. So charm bracelets. So Makoto’s bane, playing a timpany. Ami knits her guts together like a glass Circe from a metal enclosure, presaging famine. Does Galaxia sleep? Usagi is gone. Does she forgive? We are all dead. Such beautiful flowers. This is how we live. The waters of the twin rivers, such beautiful senshi, beckon us onward. Elysia’s hair is everywhere, and we the fair Elysians surfeit on small things that dine on birds of paradise, dine forever on warriors’ gloom, live entombed, liberate that which hearts consume.

She clears her throat.

“Hi,” he says again.

“Hi,” it’s more than high it’s sigh. Relief. Love. Hearts in eyes. Stars on shoulders, a capelet ascending, beautiful dresses handmade in European workshops, couturiers bustling downstairs, pearls like nipples on the breasts of satin jackets. She feels so lush her stomach muscles weaken. She could crumple. She could fold. Motoki and his adorable eyes take all.

“Call me,” says Moto.

“You did. I mean, I did,” says Mako, and Ganymede topples from his sill and shatters his pot, red baked plaster cracked in four gorgeous pieces on the floor. “Oh!” says Mako, and Gany’s broken body like a hyacinth unfolds death on the floor around her, and jungle music plays.

“I can help,” says Motoki. “Let me come over.”

“No,” says Mako, nervous, heart brimming, butterfly winged heart trilling, ascending, lifting her off the ground, and Gany the ancient rose with two foot roots curls around her ankle a beautiful sandal and tugs her back down to earth. ‘Go heavily,’ he says, ‘with guilt.’

Mako holds the phone between the divet in her shoulderblade and the twinkle of her jawbone, bent neck straining, and says in a lowered voice: “I think I’m going insane.”

“You are,” says Moto. “But I can help. I’ve been through it. I’m a senshi.”

‘Oh,’ she mouths, her lips wobbling, the phlegm in her throat catching the gold come up from her gut, all her children swallowed. Should she eat the rose? No, but he still loves her dear, a song recorded in her ear. We all drown. We’re all okay. Peacetime, even into death, even through death. We’re sailor senshi! We live again.

“I love you,” says Moto. “Seriously.”

“I don’t know where I’ve been,” she says.

“You do,” says Moto. “To hell.”

“I’ve spent all day watering this flower. This single flower. The other ones tell me he’s the most important, and I know from the blood in his eye he doesn’t know what to do. He calls me Father, then Son, then he thinks I’m a messenger from beyond the cosmos. Is Usagi. . . dead?”

“Yeah,” says Moto. “I told you I’m a sensh.”

Her carpet pales. The rose unblooms, winding up to her skirt and blossoming between her legs, Marilyn-powered, must and perfume, the rapture of a little witch’s innocent afternoon at tea, no one there to judge, no one to lay hands on, no raised voice. She’s never fought a boy nor girl in her life.

“I know,” says Moto. “I read your mind.”

“He is the rose,” says Gany from her womb, and she shoves a hand between her legs to snatch him from where he does not belong.

“You don’t know anything about me,” says Mako.

“Yeah, I do,” says Moto. “I’m Gany.”

She wretches petals from her skirt, the flower bleeding each bright bleeding page through fabric into fabric, an ascended being mounting a staircase of time. She feels her womb underpowered, bleeding, a throb, an ancient ensign, and thinks of the moss of Ami’s hair, her little bare chest at the swimming pool, that dirge that plays for water spilled, her mother smelling sweetly buying roses from nearby the check-out counter. Motoki is the check-out boy, robed in a green apron, robed in a smile, and Gany dances a little sunshine melody, the dandelion, the far-off exotica, the flower without heart, the wicked weed, the pink leafed blooming rose. She calls to Io, to Calliope, to Annie Oakley, come presageth me. I am your king. Jupiter fighting moon! Jupiter light! Jupiter rolling thunder! She feels the power in the ring at her fist, feels the electric mandorla a swirling perfect symmetrical egg around her being. Why is she wearing her fuku? Why are there flowers in her hair? Why is she marrying Motoki? Why does she miss her mother, long to be at her breast, and also in her father’s arm, a little babe suckling at the altar of Apollyon, god after time? Does she think of children? Does she think of future? Is her moon in Leo? Does she, God forbid, need a Tarot reading? Hoary winds, hoary frost, protect the floors, deaden every leaf. There are ninety four. Ninety four beautiful flowers. Which one should Motoki take from her?

“I’m not here to take anything,” he says, and picks up the basket.

“You’re here for my womb,” she says, stuttering, clamped, iridescent. In Mommy’s skirts she’d be okay, and she and Mommy both would blow away with the wind. Does she love me? I long for her. I am become Sappho, writing at the seashore. Can he hear me?

“Yeah,” says Moto, and in his voice her father plays guitar.

“I love you!” she says, and in the wist of his gravity she moves an orbit plunging into asymmetry, a perfect picture taken would reveal that all is stillness, all are God, the Buddha holds the answer. Light a candle. Is it Christmas? I love love and her soft hours. Where is Venus, my Mina, my idol? She sings me songs in the shower, sits on the toilet cutting her leg with cheap razors while I dance in bubbles with my arms outstretched to same God laughing. Were only Motoki in that shower, then Mina’s smile itself would be complete. And I ache now, halfling, Galadriel, gone west. Am I a wind? What was his name? Was he an element? I remember another life.

“Oh,” she says, remembering. No suspense, but hammers in her guts, all her children rebelling, and Gany on the floor throbbing, his petals bent, each of them a little mystery, a little fortune cookie. Where is Moto? Perfect man.

“I’m here,” he says. “She’s dying.”

“No,” she says. “He’s all right.”

“I know what he’s doing,” says Moto. “I’m coming over.”

She rubs him softly and specializes in arboretums. They dream of planting him there some day, when he has outsized his little pot. But secretly she knows she’ll never give him away, not while Calliope whispers.

“Phobos! Deimos! Ascend!” says Rei from the master’s terrace, and Makoto feels her shoulders straighten, braced in metal, iron tombs, each assisted thing come together to form a mighty statue of Jupiter Capitolinus ruling all. Sagittarian arrow loosed from its shaft, Sagittarian arrow streaking, weeping, flown from shaft to bend the air and pry the wound in Ami’s leg, the wound from which she sprouts asymmetra, ugly thing, friendless, unmoving. Mako knows loneliness.

“Moto-chan,” says Mako, spinning. Each flower a winking paradise, each little cartoon head swaying to the soft static from the radio, alternative, American, distant music. And somewhere someone Mina drops the bomb on Japan, American girl, blond-haired blue-eyed, uptown girl, seventh sister, presaging doom. Mako watches it descend, eyes wide, and all goes white, and Gany vomits a petal, and she kneels down and considers his blood.

“I’m here,” says Moto. “But I don��t love you. Nor him.”

“Evil,” says Mako, her palm tightening under her fingers, and the rose inside, and the rose’s limp head a dead emperor, a little liar, a Gany, strung up from inside, knowing no song will save her, him or her or them or it. Never a rose but color. And ninety four brothers with vaginas to take his place. All lovers of Jupiter, all the fairest. Pick another flower.

“No,” says Mako, and in her palm she shocks his spine to straightness. “Hold on, Gany-chan!”

“Imaginary friends,” says far-tongued Beryl, penis-headed, a torpedo sailing from Korea across the sea, Korean-born, a witch in new clothing, thinking all there is to think about life and death and togetherness.

“Slow down,” says Elios to Shingo, Elios to Mamoru, Shingo to the basketball bouncing away from his little hand. He used to be good at HORSE, better than his brother, his lover, his red-haired famine-brained stepchild ingrained in the neighborhood ways. Shingo dies, too. Gany dies. Mako arrives at the edge of a precipice and throws him off. He falls, but through her frown, still in the kitchen, nothing happens. Moto, come.

“Do you love me, goddess queen?” says Shingo to the ape, and Mako rests assured unsure, the balance of a half-man, centaurifugal, half-thing, double-breasted, barrel-chested, man. Her shoulders stricken to the board of a crucifix. Man. Unwoman thing. Tall. Limber. Do you play basketball? Hee. He, not hee, girl things, a ladder ascending, and her beautiful flower who speaks in weepy music to the stillness of the future blown inside her iris dying on the floor in nothing but a rag, the water she had planned to feed his gullet, and together two princesses through the world plunging separate from one another and lose their fingers in the vortex. Alice in the rabbit hole. Goddess-born. She feels nothing. Her tears like ice, like symbol, like Japanese forgetfulness. She drank from that river. She forgot Nipon. The bomb dropped. Didn’t it?

“I’m coming,” says Moto from the receiver, but it’s on the floor, and he the man, the young man silver-headed, is flying down the highway in Danburite clothing, a mask at his head, feeling cool, listening to music, knowing nothing will save her from the divorce impeded by time. Wait. I can do it. I can think. He thinks all things are connected. That gives him a lever. He knows. He pulls it. She doesn’t. She thinks. She thinks everything. And Gany pulls from her her nutrients like a glass thing breaking always into the wind, beautiful monster spinning out of time, all the light collected at his skirt, blossoming kindness, most beautiful satellite, crippled appendage, Mako’s favorite skirt.

What does Gany say?

“Water,” says Gany to Mako. “I weep,” little voice, pathetic voice, a puppy’s voice, weeping over the squeak of a toy, taken unawares. “Call Ami.”

“Shhh,” says Mako, and to her breast she holds the rose. She’ll give it to Ami. Give it to Ami and never look back. Give it to Ami and brave the sole, the mothering sole, the way her mother looks at her, a Japanese manga character come to life, so beautiful in raiment, brown-sleeved raiment, flower petals embroidered on the skirts of her aprons, beautiful music in the foreground like fingers groping blind at all their faces, family game night, a time before childhood, all these things should make her cry. She never cries. Gany cries. Confusion, he says, and she listens. Confusion, she says. He listens. His name is Mako. He punches.

Satoshi on the mantle says confusion. She loves Onyx. She loves to plant a flower on Onyx, in his hair, watch him crack and blossom into Hindu garlands like the thing evolved through space. And Seiya and Yaten and the Goddess and Haruka and Mamoru all dance and play outside her head like hoop skirts thinking about what to do with the future. Does she know she can be anything? Will any man love her? Will she find a future knowing from the past he arcs incredible husking lightning to her door?

And Gany the eternal child sleeps on, twisted root, youngest flower, twisted little slipper, broke-bent little ankle, the slipper’s son, Gany presageth famine, and Galaxia wakes from a terrifying dream, her hair all undone, and Gany comforts her, a little boy on his knees on the cushion, a little princess in his heart, beautiful hair, bows of braids of tendons sinew-streaking down forever from the mountain on which he was wedded to the god. Does she remember? She too drank from the fountain of eternity, she too went to heaven. But his earth is like a cracked and crinkled loam, pock-sparked, little minerals, little Danburites, and she his mother incest-laced the only water offered.

Danburite hates Motoki. He sighs.

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busghost · 3 years

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Do you like any fanfics? Or any fan theories?

The only fanfic I remember is this one because it's batshit and I love it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20876486?view_adult=true

Yes, it's Slutty Battlesuits.

I don't read much fanfic cause the story itself has nearly covered everything I'm really interested in. That's not to say I'm not a sucker for cheesy romance and adventure it's just, I don't feel like I'm missing anything in the story from the game/ manga/ vn so I don't feel the need to supplement it with fanfic. When I was into RWBY I read fanfic all the time because RWBY left a lot to be desired. Don't feel that way with Honkai. Though if they go with APHO for the ending then I might need to. APHO is so dumb as a ending to the main story y'all.

I guess something that I do feel is missing that that we don't actually know what happened during the 3rd Honkai Eruption?? Like they thought they were making a GGZ sequel so they didn't bother writing it but then they changed everything. So now we have that big gap in How Bronya, Kiana, and Mei actually met and what they did to survive a zombie/monster infested Nagazora. Admittedly that'd just be rewriting GGZ but slightly different so I don't blame them.

Fan theories I like? I do like the "Elysia is the 13th Herrscher" one. Fits with all her suspicious behavior and "time for me to become the villain" line. Why did she need to borrow Fenghuang Down so many times?

I'm unsure of how I feel about Bianka being the og Kiana theory if I'm being honest but there's at least enough evidence and could lead to interesting developments in her relationships. Especially with Kiana and Theresa.

A fan theory that I don't like is that everyone is just a reincarnation of their Previous Era selves, but that's the kind of theory that's impossible to prove wrong or right unless the writers themselves address it. I just think it doesn't work since some people are alive at the same time as the Previous Era counterparts and it feels kinda cheap since the Current Era is supposed to be different from the Previous Era.

#honkai impact

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johnfuckingwick · 5 years

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There are two sides to every story, and its time to finally share ours.

If you were or are in our discord server you may know that there has been a situation involving Elysia (@sp00kykeanu) and me with Sarah (@imagine-the-fanfics). We would like to tell our side of the story to clear up any misunderstandings.

On Friday, Sarah made a channel on the server without first consulting Elysia and me. She then let us both know about it and we both expressed that the next time she would like to make a channel or any changes to the server it needed to be a group decision, i have provided screenshots of that conversation to show that we are not hiding anything.

After this discussion, we decided to let her cool down and we’d discuss it further the next day with a clearer mind. WELL there was no next day, Elysia informed me that sarah had left the server with no warning and or explanation. So then afterwards the decision was made to delete the witch chat since she wasnt there to moderate it.

On Tuesday i made a post to promote the server encouraging people to join in, a few moments later Sarah made comments about the server being her idea and how she wasn’t comfortable with it continuing without her there (keep in mind she left with no explanation)

After that was posted she then messaged both me and Elysia the same messsage asking us to change the name of the server. Elysia decided to stay quiet but i was frustated so i replied.

First and foremost i want to say that we NEVER sent her these “hate anons” she’s talking about. Between school, life and the discord i barely have time to even be on tumblr. The first incident of the “hate anons” happened some time ago and she came to us about it immediately how funny is it that suddenly she’s getting hate every day and didn’t bother to mention it to us. We could have helped her either find out who was doing it or at least helped her through it. Second of all Elysia and me have been in eachothers DM’s since august WAY BEFORE the discord was even made. What we discussed outside of the secret-stash (mod channel) had absolutely nothing to do with the server or sarah. (If you must know during this time we mostly just talked about my commission and our upcoming NY trip..also a bunch of soft shit)

Sarah is most likely spreading lies about what happened and i wont allow her to drag us like she is. Ever since the beginning we’ve been been nothing but kind to her, we’ve supported her through tough times and we loved her. We absolutely do not deserve to be treated this way. We never pushed her away, she is the one who overreacted over a small situation and caused this tension.

This is the truth and we have nothing to hide.

#tea friday everyone...drink up!

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prettywitchiusaka · 7 years

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Royai Fanfic: Not Tonight

At long last, the first Royai fanfic I ever started working on is finally complete!

Please feel free to leave comments and critiques. And please no flames...I think you all know why...

Synopsis: Roy Mustang already had enough to contend with throwing a party for the higher ups, a drunk Riza Hawkeye who wanted to sleep with him should not have been on the list. Rated T for sexual conversations, innuendo and sexual situations

Enjoy!

Not Tonight

by Prettywitchiusaka

Roy Mustang never cared much for fancy military parties, always finding them to be boring and pointless. If he wanted an excuse to go out and drink, he'd either just go to the bar with some friends after work, or pour himself a glass or two at home. And yet somehow, he found himself throwing one for the higher ups in East City.

Unfortunately, this was something that had been out of his control from the start. A few weeks ago, he received a call from General Hakuro in Central, asking him personally to throw a party for the Higher Ups at the request of Furher Bradley, himself.

Well, that settled it. Roy may have been Head of the Military's Eastern Headquarters and a fully fledged Colonel in his own right, but he was still The Flame Alchemist, a personal "servant" of the Furhur. Anything he said was legally binding.

So with only two weeks to prepare and a lot of late nights at the office, he managed to scrape together a small party at East City's main hotel.

It wasn't anything too fancy, just a casual dress get together for Bradley and his entourage, any State Alchemists would could make it and a few close military acquaintances. But for a party that had been put together at the last minute, it wasn't half bad.

And while Roy would've preferred being anywhere else, right now, he had to admit this evening had quite a few perks to it.

For one, it gave him an excuse to kiss up to his superiors. And why shouldn't he? They had thrown him a challenge, and he not only rose to it, he succeeded in pulling off their request. In fact, he'd lost count as to how many of his superiors had come over to him, praising him for a job well done. "And so they should," he thought with a smirk.

Not to mention his decision to make the dress code more casual. For once, it meant he could avoid wearing his uncomfortable dress uniform and slicking his hair back, which he hated doing. And what he was wearing now? Just a regular black suit and tie. Nothing special, but nothing too stuffy, either.

One more bonus was that it gave him an excuse to keep an eye on his guest and protoge, the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric.

Granted, Ed was elsewhere right now, probably still angry over Roy's recent crack about his height. But at the same time, he wasn't too worried about the kid. He was probably chatting with someone else and enjoying himself now. Assuming he wasn't still fuming over how he'd been called short for the millionth time.

Sipping on his scotch, he began surveying the room full of happy guests and smiled. Yes, things had really gone smoothly for him.

Of course, none of this would have been possible without the help of his First Lieutenant, Riza Hawkeye.

While she did have some tomboyish traits if her love of guns was any indication, Riza was still interested in a variety of hobbies that would be considered more feminine, and hosting parties was one of them. She loved having and organizing them. Everything from sending out invitations to creating the perfect table scape to go with the food and wine she'd picked out, as their military unit and friends outside work could attest to.

And this had been no different when Riza came into his office a few weeks ago, watching him desperately search through some party planning book he'd taken out of the library hours ago.

Roy found himself smiling as he recalled the memory. He hadn't even asked her to help him, really. He just told her what Headquarters had dumped in his lap, and she chose to help him without a second thought. Mind you, it was her job to help him. But the entire time, he got the sense she was doing it because of their friendship and not because she was his assistant. And for that, he was grateful. It felt good to have someone so reliable and caring at his side, even when he probably didn't deserve it.

That was something he could drink to, he felt. And drink he did as he took another sip of his scotch.

"Where is Hawkeye, anyway?" he thought. "I still haven't thanked her."

"Hey, handsome," said a familiar voice. A voice that when Roy heard it he nearly choked on his drink. That voice belonged to Hawkeye.

"That can't be right?" he reasoned. She only ever addressed him as either Sir or Colonel. The last thing she would ever do is address him so casually, let alone by a cute pet name like "handsome".

There was no way it was her.

But sure enough, when the Flame Alchemist turned his head to the side, he let out a gasp at what he saw. It was Riza Hawkeye in the flesh, blonde hair down and looking beautiful in that red dress of hers. Not that that surprised him; she always cleaned up nice in his opinion.

No, what really caught him off guard was her behaviour; her cheeks were flushed, a smile was on her face and she was waving at him despite being only a few feet away.

"Are you okay, Hawkeye?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she replied before she nearly tripped over her heels. Acting fast, Roy held his hands out and caught her by the shoulders while she stumbled about.

"Are you sure?" he asked, early restraining a chuckle. "I don't think I've ever seen you this drunk before."

She started giggling like a schoolgirl. "You should've seen me during my college days," she said while a small hiccup escaped her mouth.

Roy took a moment to picture that in his mind's eye; the idea of a college-aged Riza completely hammered, doing all kinds of crazy things on a dare was a bit hard to imagine, though that's probably why he found it so amusing.

Hell her behaviour right now was starting to entertain him as he gently sat her down on the bar stool next to him. She flashed him that big dumb smile, and he returned the favour by showing her that famous smirk of his.

"So, I know this party's boring-"

"Oh, poor baby," she said with a hiccup. "Bored at his own party."

He let out a chuckle. "Well yes. But that doesn't sound like an excuse for you to drink yourself silly."

"Oh, blame Havoc," she said. "He said I was too much of a stick in the mud, but I showed him; I drank more shots than him and I didn't even pass out!"

Roy's eyes widened. His Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc was well known for his ability to hold his liquor. He wasn't exactly immune to becoming tipsy, per say. But whenever him and his men went out for drinks, it was guaranteed that Havoc would win any drinking games they partook in.

Riza never participated in any of their games, often assigning herself to be the group's designated driver, so her victory came as a surprise. "You drank more than Havoc? I didn't think that was possible."

"Well, that's what you get for trying to make me look bad," she slurred.

"Really? Guess I'll have to remember that next time," he said with a smile. She was so

business like around the office that it was actually kind of nice seeing her so relaxed and jokey for a change.

Roy took another sip of his scotch as he surveyed the dance floor; the slow dance was starting and everyone who was dancing looked like they were enjoying themselves. Looking over at Riza from the corner of his eye, a small smirk formed on his face as an idea came to him.

Placing his glass down on the bar table, he held his hand out to her and asked "Care to dance?"

Riza turned to face her superior officer. "Really? You won't you get in trouble for that?'

He shrugged. "Ah, we're at a party. As long as we don't do anything inappropriate, we should be okay…If you're still up for it?"

"Are you kidding!? I might never get to do this, again!" she said before grabbing his hand. "Let's go!" Without any pretence or warning, she dragged him onto the dance floor.

Once they were on the floor, Roy took her hand in his and placed the other one on her waist, leading her in gentle waltz.

As Roy started dancing with her, he found that a small smile was forming on his face as he looked into her amber eyes. Not that he could help it, though; her eyes always had that affect on him. Unless they were alone, it was rare for her to put her mask down and just be herself, be the kind hearted Riza he'd known since the academy.

Mind you, Riza had always been a very no nonsense woman even back then. And while admired that about her, it was really that gentle side of hers he loved seeing. But because she always acted like the perfect soldier around the office, her eyes were sometimes the only way for him to get a glimpse of the real Hawkeye.

But not tonight. Tonight her eyes were warm and happy, as if she was enjoying spending time with him. Of course, he knew she was and it made his smile widen.

Spending time alone with her outside of work was something that didn't happen often, but he was thankful for it when it did.

"I can't remember the last time we danced like this," he commented.

"Uh…I think it was that last mission we went on. The one where we pretended to be a couple…I think…Or was it Elysia's birthday party?…No, that can't be it-"

"In other words; you don't remember, either."

"I do, too! I just need to think about it….that's all."

Roy chuckled. "You keep telling yourself that…"

When they gently turned around, Riza's eyes caught something of interest; it was Edward Elric. He was dancing with Second Lieutenant Maria Ross, and looking rather embarrassed if the blush on his face was any indication. Not that Maria seemed to care, she just smiled sweetly at him like a mother would.

Right behind them at a table sat Ed's brother, Alphonse, Major Alex Louis Armstrong and Sergeant Denny Brosch. All of them had different reactions to what they were seeing. Al looked happy for his brother, while Armstrong was crying tears of joy and rambling on about something.

The only exception was Sergeant Brosch who had his head on the table and was sulking, probably because he missed his chance to dance with Maria, again.

Seeing that made Riza smile. "Everyone looks like they're having fun."

"It's all thanks to you, you know?" Hearing that, she turned to face Roy smiling at her.

"Oh, stop!" she said. "You did most of the arrangements and picked out the venue! I barely lifted a finger after I showed you what to do!"

"That's just it, though. I wouldn't have been able to pull all of this together if it wasn't for you. Thank you, Lieutenant. Your help, as always, is appreciated."

Riza could feel the blush rising up her cheeks, she was even giggling. "I only do what I can, Sir."

Roy said nothing in return, continuing to smile at her. Riza, meanwhile, could feel a smile form on her face as she continued staring into his eyes. His warm obsidian eyes. She could tell by looking into them that he was happy to be here with her, that he was enjoying himself, for a change.

It made her happy to know that she was wanted by him, that he didn't mind spending his evening with his drunken Lieutenant and not some brainless bimbo he only met a few hours ago. With a smile on her face, Riza closed her eyes and pressed her head up against his chest, taking in the scent of his cologne. "You smell nice…,"

Hearing her say that made Roy allow a small smile to graze his face as he closed his eyes and rested his chin on her head, taking in the peach scent of her blonde hair. Everything felt so right about this. From the music to the pace of their dancing, even how good her head felt resting against his chest, it all felt perfect.

That is until he opened his eyes and let out a gasp. He could see plenty of his superior officers looking his way. In particular, General Hakuro and General Basque Gran. They were all staring at him, scowling with disapproval for seeing him openly sharing an intimate moment with his secretary. So, he made a sharp turn away and whispered "Get your head off me, now, Hawkeye!"

She groaned in frustration. "But I thought you liked this, Roy?" "Well that's new," he observed. She must be really drunk if she was using his first name. "I do but we've got to lay low."

Roy took a moment to reflect on that; it felt weird having to remind Hawkeye of all people about the military's "anti-fraternization" laws, but given how intoxicated she was, he really had no choice but to keep her, as well as himself in line. He knew the last thing she'd want would be to ruin his chances of climbing the ranks to become Furhur.

Not that Riza really cared about that right now. Instead, she was smiling; hearing what he was saying had given her a wonderful idea. She opened her eyes and looked up to face him. "Well what do you say we ditch this place and go have some fun?…Just the two of us?…"

And that right there, was when Roy Mustang froze. Had he heard that right? Did Riza Hawkeye just ask him to make love to her?

Riza Hawkeye, a woman well known for her gunmanship.

Riza Hawkeye, his long time friend and co-worker.

Riza Hawkeye, the one woman he trusted to keep him from engaging in such stupidity.

For some reason, it's like his brain couldn't process that correctly. But he must have heard her right, given the lustful look in her eyes.

With a heavy sigh, the Flame Alchemist ceased dancing with his drunk Lieutenant and looked her in the eye. "I don't think so."

"Oh, come on, Roy," she replied while wrapping her arms around his neck. "You won't have to do much." She moved inches away from his ear and whispered "You'll find I'm an expert gun handler…"

Roy felt his face flush brighter than a Christmas tree light and his heart beat getting faster at her words. In all the years they'd known each other, he'd never imagined her saying something so…sensual…It was electrifying…

"No, damnit!" he thought. Any more of this and he'd be reduced to a drooling pile of goo in a matter of minutes.

He quickly shook his head free of any erotic thoughts and gently pulled her arms off him. "I think we need to take you back to your hotel room," he said, albeit more grumpy than before.

Rather than pout or moan is disappointment, Riza just let that big dumb smile graze her face, again. "Okay, lead the way, tiger."

Without any warning, she wrapped her arms around his. And Roy, not sure of what else to do, just sighed and rolled his eyes before he started to walk her out of the reception hall.

"Hey, Roy!" Stopping in his tracks, the Colonel came face to face with his good friend, Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes. And with a huge stack of photos in his hands, too. No doubt pictures of his daughter, Elysia. "You're in luck! You'll be the first person to see the first batch of Elysia photos created by yours truly! My secret is that I develop them in my top secret dark room."

"You mean the guest bathroom?"

"Yeah, how'd you know."

"Lucky guess. Look, Maes, this isn't a good time."

Naturally, Maes was fuming. Placing his hands on his hips, he said "Not a good time? What could be more important than-Oh, hello Riza. How come you're hanging off of Roy's arm?"

"Roy and I are running off to have some fun-"

"What she means is she's drunk and I'm escorting her back to her room. Isn't that right, Lieutenant!?"

"Whatever you say, handsome!" The Lieutenant snuggled her face deeper into his arm, making him groan.

Maes was no fool, though. He could tell from the redness on the Lieutenant's face and the irritation on his friend's what was going on; she probably had too much to drink and decided to try bedding her superior officer, much to Roy's obvious irritation.

So he smiled at his friend and said "Oh, I see. Can't keep her hands off you, can she?"

The Colonel let out a sigh. "What gave it away?"

Maes chuckled. "Oh come on, we know no girl can resist the Mustang charm." Sadly, Roy was too irritated to laugh at that, right now. "Need help getting her back to her room?"

"No, I'll be fine. Though I'd appreciate if you kept this under wraps."

"Don't worry; this conversation never happened."

Roy couldn't help but smile at his friend as he gently dragged his inebriated subordinate out of the ball room and into the hallway.

Now Maes was all alone, left to stare at nothing the sea of dancing couples. He sighed. "Maybe he should've brought Gracia with me for the weekend," he muttered to himself.

He took another glance at the stack of photos. "Well, I might as well find somebody else I can show these to. How can I let these go to waste!?" he asked out loud.

It only figured Roy would be having lady trouble the one night he was in town. And when he had pictures to show him, no less!

…..

The door to Riza's hotel room creaked open, making Roy grumble under his breath. Why old buildings has to be so noisy he'd never understand.

After turning on the lights, he gently pulled his stumbling Lieutenant into the decently sized room and sat her down on the double bed. He looked at her and said "Lye down, okay? I'm going to make sure no one followed us."

"Okay…," she said. "Don't keep me waiting too long…"

Roy paused. "Right…" Walking over to the door, he looked out into the hallway and looked to his right, than his left. No one else was around, meaning they were in the clear. So, he closed the door to the room.

With a relieved sigh, Roy leaned against the sturdy doorframe. Finally, they were out of sight from their colleagues. Maybe now he could relax for a bit.

"Roy?…"

Or not.

The Flame Alchemist looked up to face his inebriated co-worker, ready to end this once and for all, only to nearly feel his mouth gape open at what he saw. She was sprawled out across the bed like a lingerie model, revealing more of her cleavage than when they'd been dancing. She even placed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Aren't you coming to bed?"

Roy never answered her. How could he? His brain was literally short circuiting, right now. She looked so sexy sitting there, batting her eyes at him. Patting the bed with her hand and motioning for him to sit down.

It was enough to make Roy feel like he could have a nosebleed.

Hell, he could practically feel himself drooling over her exposed thigh. It looked so soft and silky smooth the way it glistened in the dim light. Even the way the silk of her dress draped over it was seductive looking. And that was before she started removing more of the garment from her leg inch by inch, making his eyes widen intriguingly. Turns out her dress had a slit the whole time. Who knew?

Riza then placed her hand on her leg, making her would be lover blush. Even worse was when she started trailing her hand down her leg, making his eyes follow her hand's every movement.

"Damnit!" he cursed. "She's doing this on purpose." He knew it. But no matter how hard her tried, his eyes would not obey. He was completely hypnotized staring at her leg, watching as her fingers moved seductively across the legs he so rarely got to see.

"What would her skin feel like?…Would it - No, dammit!" he cursed mentally. He had to remain vigilant; this was Riza Hawkeye, after all.

Having snapped out of his trance, he coughed to clear his throat and said "Yeah…I'm just gonna sit on the couch."

Roy did as he said and made his way towards the blue chair in the corner, feeling his right eye twitching and his hands curling into fists. Not helping matters was that he could still hear Riza trying to entice him.

"Oh, don't be like that…you know you want this-"

"Cool your jets! It's not gonna happen!" the Flame Alchemist snapped. "And quit talking like a hooker!"

He looked over at his Lieutenant, noticing her stunned amber eyes, immediately. Any guilt he felt though dissipated the second that dumb looking smile grazed her face, again.

"Okay!"

With a defeated sigh, Roy sat himself down on the couch. He made himself comfortable by crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand, making sure to keep his face turned away from the blonde beauty. He really wanted to avoid looking at her for awhile, if he could. Though with his luck, it probably wouldn't take long for her to notice how frustrated he was, right now. Her last name wasn't Hawkeye for nothing.

He was right.

"You seem tense."

"I'll be fine," he replied. "Just need a moment to relax, that's all."

Riza placed a finger to her chin and took a moment to think this over. "You're right…," she said. "We need to liquor you up."

"I guess so…,"the Colonel replied. "Wait, what?"

Next thing Roy knew, he was watching her slowly stand on her feet. She even stumbled a bit before standing up straight in front of him, her arms stretched out like she was a little kid on a balance beam. "You'll be more relaxed once we get some alcohol in you."

"Uh…That's really not necessary-"

"Oh, don't be stupid!" The blonde said before she started wobbling towards the bar fridge. "Let's see what we got here."

But before she could even take another step, the Flame Alchemist dashed over and grabbed her by the arms. Turning her around, he bore his eyes into hers.

"No! No more alcohol for you, or me, tonight!" he yelled. It came off more harsh than he intended it to, but maybe it would get his point across.

Riza didn't seem fazed in the slightest, though. She just smiled sweetly at him. "Sit with me?"

Well, Roy knew what his answer was going to be. No way! Forget it! But one look at her face, and he found his eye twitching again. She just looked so cute, so sweet. How could he say no to that face?

With another defeated sigh, he looked into her eyes and said "Okay…Just a along as you promise to lay down and rest…"

Riza thought it over for a moment before saying "Okay."

With a sigh of relief, he climbed into bed with her and the two collapsed on separate pillows. Of course, Roy was far from impressed. If anything he looked warn down.

But then again, what else could he expect when his drunk co-worker was practically throwing herself at him, and he couldn't even do anything about it? Well, unless he felt like kissing his family jewels goodbye?

"Why is this happening to me?" he thought to himself.

Of course the one time his feelings for her were harder to keep under wraps would be when she was intoxicated and trying to seduce him. Why wouldn't it be?

Then again, he probably deserved this. After all, if he hadn't started treating her like a lady and not his subordinate, as he often wanted to do, she probably wouldn't be so desperate to bump uglies with him right now. This was just him reaping the consequences of his actions.

Either way though, Roy knew one thing. Come tomorrow, he owed Hawkeye an apology.

Suddenly Roy was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a warm hand on his cheek. Turning his head, he came face to face with Riza smiling at him. "Kiss me…," she whispered.

With lustful eyes, she puckered her ruby lips and moved closer to his face. And as much as Roy didn't want to, he turned his head away from hers. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you're drunk, it's wouldn't be right."

Riza started giggling again. "So? I won't mind," she said while wrapping her arms around his neck.

It took all the willpower that Roy had not to groan when she started nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. Balling his fists again, he took a big gulp and continued staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah, well you will in the morning. Trust me," he replied. "The last thing I need is a bullet through my head."

She chuckled. "Okay, then. Just think of me as one of those bimbos you date."

"Bimbos!?"

"Yeah." She looked up to smile at him and said "You can just screw my brains out and pretend like it never happened."

"And how would that be fair to you?"

She looked up to stare at him. "What do you mean?"

"You're not just some floosy I picked up at a bar and won't ever see again, you're my friend…You deserve better than that," he explained.

Hearing that, Riza felt a soft smile graze her face. She snuggled closer into him, much to his chagrin.

"That's why I love you…," The Flame Alchemist gasped as he held his head up to see her smiling face. "You're a lot kinder than you seem, Roy..."

His eyes became somber when he heard that comment. He breathed a deep sigh and laid his head down on the pillow. Already, he could feel the self-loathing kicking in. What was so great about him? "I don't know about that."

"You care for those boys…You go out of your way to protect your friends…You want to better yourself…You don't think that makes you a good man?"

"None of that changes anything…I'm still a murderer, Riza…"

He knew it was true; he could hide behind his smirk and confident vebrato, but at the end of the day, he still felt he wasn't deserving of love or any kind of happiness. Not with all the blood that was on his hands.

Riza, meanwhile could feel herself tearing up as she listened to him; she hated it when he put himself down like this. It's like all the good she saw in him he couldn't see in himself. "I wish you wouldn't be so hard on yourself…You're a strong person, Roy…Most people in your position can't say that…"

"Not really…I can't tell you how many times I've woken up screaming from the same nightmare over and over again…"

Placing her hand on his heart, she said "Then let me help you…"

The alchemist gave her a smile. "You already do," he replied while wrapping his arm around her waist. "You're always there for me."

And it was true; she was there for him, no matter what. He could do the stupidest, most innocuous thing and she'd never leave his side. If he showed up to work minutes before an important meeting because of a one night stand, she'd call him out on it. If he was tired from another sleepless night filled with nightmares, she would check up on him during the day or bring him an extra cup of coffee.

Even with how much she'd had to drink tonight, his Lieutenant was still looking out for him. He couldn't help but love her for that.

But even Roy could never have predicted what happened next. Out of nowhere, Riza sat up to face him, letting amber meet obsidian once again.

"But I want to do more!" she said. " I want to take your pain away…I want you to be happy…"

As soon as she said that, Roy found himself being taken in by her eyes, again, completely captivated by the sincerity in her glazed orbs. Enough that he didn't even realize what his Lieutenant had done until it was too late. Not only had she straddled him, she'd also placed his hand on her thigh.

Roy practically tensed up fast at the soft skin beneath his finger tips, intrigued by how smooth her thigh was.

He shook his head when he realized what was happening; he was letting himself turn into a drooling horn dog again. The Flame Alchemist quickly pulled his hand away from her leg, not that she seemed to notice. She was too busy staring into his eyes.

"Look, it's not that I'm not flattered or anything, but I don't think that now's the best time…especially not with you like this."

"You don't have to worry about that…" Hearing her say that, Roy looked up to face her again. And that was his mistake. Because when he looked up, his gaze locked with her amber eyes. Her beautiful, sad looking amber eyes. "I'm all yours, tonight…You can do whatever you want to me…"

She closed her eyes and bent down to kiss him again. But Roy did not resist her, this time. He'd become too entranced by her beauty for that, too focused on his own feelings and desire for her. For once in his life, he was left speechless.

So he relaxed his body and let her connect a brief kiss. And in that moment, the Flame Alchemist closed his eyes and kissed her back, enjoying how sweet and gentle her lips felt against his.

The kiss didn't last very long, maybe a minute at most, but Roy didn't seem to notice. If anything, the only thing he observed was that something had changed in Riza's eyes; they no longer had that glazed, lustful look to them. In its place was a warm, unfiltered look of love.

The Flame Alchemist had to look away. He knew it…But he didn't want to. He wanted to stay with her like this forever. He didn't even mind it when she placed a warm hand on his cheek, again.

"I love you…," she whispered. "There's nothing I won't do for you…"

But Roy could feel her words having the opposite affect on him; instead of making him more eager to be with her, it made him snap out of the daze he was in, although regrettably so.

Of course he was tempted. How could he not be? This was Riza Hawkeye; a beautiful, kindhearted woman who wanted nothing more to help him. She loved him, though he could only wonder why. But he couldn't deny he felt the same way.

Right now, he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. To kiss her naked body and hear her moan, to pleasure her and listen to her scream his name before letting her do the same to him. He'd wanted it for a long time, now.

But there was no way the Colonel could do that, not unless he wanted Riza to hate him for the rest of his life.

It wasn't an issue of wanting her, he needed her. She had vowed to help rise to the Top, to become Furhur. There's no way they could do that together if she was caught in his arms and not at his side.

So with a sigh, the young alchemist gently placed a finger to her lips as she went to kiss him again. Confused, Riza opened her eyes to find herself staring at a smiling Roy. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry…," he said. "I'd love to, but not tonight…"

Groaning, the Lieutenant fell back onto her side of the bed and started stroking Roy's cheek. "Oh, come on, Roy! You can't tell me you haven't thought about it, before?…About us?"

"Of course, I have. It's just…I think we need to wait until we accomplish our goal to see if it would work out between us…And I'm sure if you were sober, you'd say the same thing…"

Next thing he knew, he could hear light snoring next to him. "Riza?"

When Roy turned his head, he could see that Riza had fallen asleep. His mouth dropped wide open; after all that time, she picks now, when he's pouring his heart out to her, to fall asleep. "So much for I'm all yours, tonight," he thought to himself.

Still, at least he was no longer in danger of being seduced by his Lieutenant. Realizing that, Roy breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he could relax again.

Carefully, he removed himself from the bed and looked for a blanket. Finding one on the chair, he gently placed it over his sleeping Lieutenant.

Before Roy got up from the bed again, he gazed down at his co-worker, smiling at how peaceful she looked. Her face and body were completely relaxed, her hands were balled into flimsy looking fists, and there was one more thing he couldn't help but smirk at briefly; she was snoring lightly into the pillow. One way or another, he'd be teasing her about that in the future.

"Sleep well, Riza."

With one last glance, he walked out of the room and closed the door. Last thing he needed to do was walk down to the drug store for some peppermint tea. She was going to need it, come tomorrow.

"Boss, thank goodness we found you!"

Turning around, Roy came face to face with three of his men. Leading the charge was an overweight, redheaded man named Haymans Breda. Although you wouldn't know it from the way he was hunched over on his knees, panting like he just ran a marathon, or something. On his left was a grey haired man named Vato Falman, and on his right was a young man named Kain Feury. They weren't quite as winded as their friend, but from where he stood, Roy could see the sweat on their foreheads and the deep breaths they were both taking in.

"What the hell happened to you three?" Roy asked.

"We've been looking for Lieutenant Hawkeye," Falman explained.

"Yeah," Feury replied. "She challenged Havoc to a drinking game and-"

"Let me guess; she got hammered and you lost her," replied Roy.

All three men stared at their boss until Breda asked. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"Because I just finished getting her to sleep."

And all at once, the trio felt their eyes widen and their jaws dropping simultaneously. There's no way what all three of them were thinking happened, right? They all knew their Colonel was a womanizer, but he wouldn't have done that. He couldn't have done that. Could he?

"You mean you actually had your way with her?" Falman asked.

The Colonel's eyes widened in anger. "What!? No! Do I look like the kind of guy who would sleep with his drunk co-worker!?"

Breda took one look at him and said "Knowing you? Yeah."

Roy sighed. "Geez, you three are hopeless."

Breda went to retaliate but Falman cut him off. "Well if the Lieutenant's asleep now, then I guess we really don't have anything to worry about. Other than her having a massive hangover, tomorrow.

"I'll take care of it," Roy said. "Though one of us should check up on Hayate."

"That won't be necessary, Colonel," Feury piped up. "Her next door neighbour is babysitting for her until tomorrow night."

"Oh right, I forgot," said Falman. "It's a good thing you remembered, Kain."

"Of course he does," Breda remarked. An impish smile was forming on his face as he continued with "Feury always "stands at attention" whenever Hawkeye's talking."

Hearing that made Kain's heart race and his face turn bright red. "You know that's not the only reason!"

"Right…," Roy remarked. "You guys go back to the party, I need to step out for a bit."

"Where to?" Breda asked.

"The Drugstore. Where else?" The Colonel continued making his way down the hall, much to their confusion.

"He sounds grumpy, you think something happened between them?"

"I guess we'll find out when he gets back," Falman replied.

Kain's eye widened. "That reminds me; where's Havoc?"

"I think we might've left him at the bar," said Falman.

…

Poor Jean Havoc.

He was still at the bar like his friends assumed he would be, only he wasn't entertaining anyone or taking a quick cigarette break. Instead, he had his chin firmly planted on the table, looking like he was ready to kill over.

But it wasn't from the amount of alcohol he'd consumed earlier. No, it was but because he was being held hostage by none other than Maes Hughes and his endless pictures of Elyssia.

"And this one, I took just this past week. You can just see the excitement in her face as she tries her very first doughnut! And look at that bite, it's the kind of thing you only see in the newspaper strips!"

"Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Nope!"

Jean groaned inwardly as he listened to the overly excited man ramble on and on about how cute his daughter was. After awhile, there was only one phrase that kept repeating on loop in his mind.

"Kill me!"

…..

Groggily, Riza opened her eyes to find herself in an unfamiliar, gold room.

"Where am I?" she thought to herself. It was only when she looked down and started feeling the soft, velvet bed cover beneath her fingertips that her memory came flooding back to her.

"Oh right," she remembered. "I'm in my hotel room."

Having already booked herself a room at East City's main hotel the night before the Colonel's party, she made arrangements with her next door neighbour to babysit her dog, Black Hayate for the night and left.

She didn't take much with her, just a small carry on bag filled with make-up and some toiletries, and a book in case she had any time to read. The only other thing she brought with her was a large duffle bag consisting of a few handguns and some ammo, as well as three different outfits. An extra pair of pyjamas, a spare uniform for the day after, and the dress she was currently wearing.

Looking over at the clock on the nightstand, she could see it read 7:30. Time to get ready for work and check out. Riza sighed; she'd rather just go home today and sleep in. But a job was a job. And while she trusted her Colonel, she knew he couldn't be counted upon to complete the day's paperwork without some helpful reminders. Or nagging as he often called it.

"Whatever," she thought to herself. He could call it whatever he wanted. Either way, she was getting up and heading straight for work. There was bound to be a fresh pot of coffee in the office, and she could always get something to eat on the way there.

Yawning, the Lieutenant slowly sat herself up on the bed. Only to groan and hunch over while she placed a hand to her forehead. Looks like the dreaded curse known as "the hangover" was taking its toll on her. Still, Riza felt she got off easy given the amount of alcohol she'd consumed. Her stomach felt a bit unsettled, but at least she didn't feel nauseous.

If she played her cards right, than a nice cup of peppermint tea should calm her stomach and quell whatever was left of her hangover from last night.

But that was the problem. "What did happen, last night?"

No matter how hard she tried, most of the night was a blur to her.

She could remember accepting Havoc's challenge to playing a drinking game, and how satisfying it felt when she beat him. She could also remember chatting with Roy and the eventual waltz they shared, how wonderful it felt being in his arms and dancing with him.

But what happened after? Did she spend more time with Roy, or did she retire to her room afterward? She couldn't remember.

Sighing, Riza turned her head back to the nightstand, only to find two items she hadn't noticed before staring her in the face. The first was a small, unopened box of peppermint tea. The other was a small piece of white paper folded in half.

Curious, Riza picked up the piece of paper, unfolded it and began to read its content.

Hey. Figured you could use this after last night. Don't come into work if you still feel sick, we'll be fine.

- R.M.

Her eyes widened when she recognized whose handwriting this was; it was the Colonel's. But why would he-

Suddenly, Riza let out a gasp as it all came back to her. She could picture herself lying on top of her superior, the brief, albeit loving kiss they shared, and confessing her love to him.

And worst of all, she remembered trying to seduce him into making love to her…and nearly succeeding in doing so.

With a huge groan, Riza buried her face in her hands, resisting the urge to scream as she muttered under her breath "Oh no…"

…

Jean lay his head on the table in the office he shared with his military unit, still exhausted from the night before.

It had taken him awhile before he finally escaped the clutches of Hughes and his seemingly endless photos of his daughter, but he managed it, somehow.

Okay, the word "escape" was a bit of an exaggeration. What happened was Colonel Mustang and the rest of the men from his military unit returned, diverting Maes's attention to the irritated looking alchemist. They all decided to sit at the bar and chat over a few drinks, but not Jean. After all he just went through in the last hour or so, he felt like retiring for the night.

But not even a good nights' sleep could help the Lieutenant's mood, though not because of any lingering hangover. No. It was for another reason entirely; he was still angry at what happened last night.

And no, it wasn't because he'd been beaten at his own game by a woman, although that certainly didn't help. It was because he'd been ditched by his friends so they could go look for their drunk co-worker, leaving him with a mild headache and an overly proud parent.

Not helping matters was Kain trying to console him, doing his best to ignore the (almost) permanent scowl on his superiors' face.

"If it makes you feel any better, Havoc, we didn't mean to abandon you."

"No…You just left me to be held hostage by that maniac."

Kain let out a nervous chuckle at that statement. He couldn't deny that what Havoc said wasn't true; it was. But he was trying to lighten his friend's mood, and so help him, he was going to do it! "Don't be like that, we just ran off because we were concerned for the Lieutenant-"

"Give it a rest, Feury."

The group turned to face Roy. He was walking in through the door that joined his office with theirs, his eyes never turning their attention to the desk where his men were sitting.

"Havoc's a big boy; if he wants to be upset, then let him."

Jean groaned. It annoyed him how cold his superior could be, sometimes. "Easy for you to say; you weren't trying to find ways to get away that freak you call your friend."

"Yeah, but I'm used to it."

Jean growled. Still, it's not like there was much he could do about it. So he rolled his head over to Riza's desk area, only to feel his curiosity peaking as he realized something. "Hey, when's Hawkeye coming in? It's almost nine."

"The Lieutenant might not be coming in today."

Confused, Jean watched as the Colonel picked up the morning paper from the little coffee table, taking particular note of the concerned look in his superior's eyes. Even if he was miffed, he still couldn't help but smirk at his boss's subtle display of affection towards Riza and whether or not she was okay. "I guess the Lieutenant had more to drink than I thought," he observed.

A second later, the door opened and all eyes turned to see who it was. It was First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, much to their surprise.

Roy in particular, could feel his eyes widen and a small gasp escape his throat. He thought for certain she would've heeded his advice and take the day off to rest. But there she was standing in the doorway, looking as stern and infallible as she always did.

So, the Flame Alchemist did the only thing he could think to do. "Good morning, Lieutenant," he said. Wondering the whole time what her response would be?

Looking over to him, Riza nodded her head to him and said "Good morning, Colonel."

Roy breathed internally; she was greeting him in her usual stoic manner, keeping him at a relative distance like she always did. It was like nothing happened the night before.

But something did happen, something he knew they would have to talk about. Though now probably wasn't the right time for that discussion, he reasoned. Maybe once they were alone, that would be best.

With his mind made up, Roy opened the paper and began reading the headlines. "So how are you feeling?" he asked. "I heard you had quite a bit to drink last night…"

Much to his surprise, Riza was standing right in front of him, looking like she wanted to say something to him. "Colonel, I'd like to speak to you in private, if I may?"

Roy took a few seconds before answering "Sure."

He placed the paper back down on the coffee table and followed her out into the hallway, leaving Jean very confused as he watched them leave there oom.

"What the heck happened to those two?"

Breda quickly whispered into Havoc's ear the previous nights' interaction. "What!? Really!?"

The trio all nodded in unison, confirming his suspicion. Jean smirked. "Well, if those two finally decide to get together, maybe I can finally get a date," he said.

"Yeah, don't hold your breath for that to happen," Breda muttered under her breath.

…

Now Roy found himself walking behind his Lieutenant down the hallway, waiting patiently for when they could have some privacy. That way, they could finally talk about last night. He'd already gone over everything he wanted to say iso many times in his mind he could practically write it down if he wanted to, and now it was only a matter of time before he could finally get it off his chest.

Still, even at a time like this, the Colonel couldn't help but let a smile cross his face as he watched her. Even with all the alcohol she'd had to drink the night before, she was still standing tall in front of him. Still his sharp, take charge Lieutenant. Not many women in her position could have done that. But she did.

"I gotta say, I'm impressed; I figured you'd decide to stay home, today."

"Well I wasn't feeling too bad when I woke up, this morning. Especially after I took some of that tea you bought for me."

Roy smirked. "I figured it would help you, I can't count how many times you've used that on me after a long night of drinking-"

Without any warning, she stopped walking. He stopped, too, confused that she would just cease walking so suddenly. "Colonel," she said, getting his attention. Knowing his eyes were now fixed on her, Riza turned to face him with a stoic gaze. "I'd like to apologize for last night."

For a moment, Roy stared at her with wide eyes. Really? That's it? After everything that happened, all she wanted to say was "I'm sorry?"

He'd take it if it was, but he couldn't deny feeling a bit disappointed by the fact that she didn't want to discuss last night. Oh well, not much he could about that. So he just gave her a small smile. "What do you have to apologize for? You were drunk; it happens to everybody."

"Yes, but I tried forcing myself on you…and I'm sorry for that…"

Now, the Colonel didn't know what to say. Why was she blaming herself for this? He was as much to blame as she was.

Or did she really think he was angry with her? Did she think he felt sexually harassed by her? Well, obviously she must've since she used the phrase "forcing myself on you".

"That's so silly," he thought as he continued smiling at her. "I don't see why you have to, I was kind of into it," he explained, recalling the memory. "I probably would've gone along with it too if my conscious hadn't kicked in."

Riza stared sadly at him. "I know…That's why I'm apologizing…I could've ruined

you last night…"

With guilty eyes, she looked down at her boots. Almost as if she'd confessed to murder and was afraid to see his reaction.

The Colonel, meanwhile, ran his fingers through his hair and breathed a deep sigh, wondering just how the hell he was going to resolve this one? While he appreciated the apology, he hated seeing her torturing herself like this; she didn't need to burden the blame for something they were both at fault for.

He needed to convey that to her somehow. Otherwise, she'd be moping about it for the next few days until she finally chose to let it go. He didn't want that for her. Especially when, as far as he was concerned, it was his fault she was feeling this way.

So, he placed a hand on her shoulder, making her guilt ridden orbs stare up at his warm smile.

"But you didn't, did you?"

"That's only because you stopped me…"

"Yeah, but it's also my fault we're in this position, right now," he said. "I really shouldn't have let my guard down with you, last night. But I was having too much fun."

"No, you shouldn't have…," she agreed. "But that doesn't really change anything, Sir. It was still my decision to try seducing you."

Now Roy was starting to get annoyed. "Damnit, Riza!" he cursed. "Don't do this to yourself!" "I know. But you've gotta remember that nothing happened."

"But something did happen!" She snapped, startling him. "We…We kissed…"

"True. But other than that kiss, I didn't actually make love to you. And believe me, I wanted to."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Of course," he said, delighted to see the look in her eyes starting to soften. "So don't beat yourself up about this, Lieutenant. We both made mistakes. But when you were about to do something really stupid, I kept you in check, like we always do for each other."

She smiled, happy to know he wasn't angry with her. "Besides," the Colonel said with a smirk. "I actually managed to resist sleeping with a beautiful woman. You should be proud of me." Riza chuckled. "Right…"

He smiled at her a little longer before removing his hand from her shoulder and turning to walk back to the office. "Come on. The last thing I need is you chastising me for falling behind on my paperwork, again."

"Colonel?" He stopped cold in his tracks, curious to know what her question was. "Did you really mean what you said last night? That you'd thought about us, before?"

He chuckled. "You're seriously asking me that question?"

Riza was silent for a moment. "So you have thought about it."

But Roy didn't say anything. Rather, he took a moment to think, processing every possible answer he could give her that wouldn't sound too inappropriate for the office. Eventually, a smile formed on his face when he settled on what had to be the best one. "Of course."

Roy figured that would be enough to convey his answer to her. It was short, simple, and to the point. He was right.

He could practically feel his smile widening as she let out a gasp. Turning to face her, he said "I won't deny that I'm attracted to you, Hawkeye…But I think we're better off finding out the answer to that when we get to the Top. Don't you?"

Riza gave him a warm smile; despite her feelings for the man before her, the last thing she would ever want would be to jeopardize his dream, so it felt good to know he felt the same way about this as she did. "Yes, I do."

"Good," he said. All while smiling at her. "Now let's get back to work."

She gave him a smile. "Yes, Sir."

He turned his back to her, and the duo began making their way back to the office, walking side by side.

"Oh, and thank you for all your help last night, Colonel," Riza said.

He smirked. "Well, after all those times you've dragged me home from the bar, it was the least I could do."

The Lieutenant smiled at that. What he said may have sounded a bit insincere, but she knew better. After all, he was only telling her not to worry about it.

"Although, I must say I'm surprised at you, Lieutenant," he said. "I never pegged you to be a snorer."

Riza was a bit taken aback by that statement. Guess she'd been snoring after she fell asleep the other night and he must've heard it. Still, why was he bringing this up now? Well, she already knew the answer to that one. "So?" she asked.

"So last I checked, it's something men do, not women."

Yes, he was teasing her about it! Riza growled when she looked at that smirk on his face. He must've been thinking of all the ways he could push her buttons since at least last night.

"It's perfectly normal for women to snore, Sir."

"Undignified women? Yes. But you? Not so much."

She sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

He smirked at her impishly. "Oh, now where would be the fun in that?"

The Lieutenant rolled her eyes as they made their way back towards the office. Sometimes, she swore this man was no more mature than Edward Elric, himself.

Not that it mattered, anyway. Until the day came where they could safely take their relationship to the next level, the Colonel and his Lieutenant were more than happy to dance around their feelings and be friends, regardless of whatever temptation came their way.

The End

#Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA 2003 #Royai #royai fanfiction #royai fic #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #Prettywitch Writes Fanfiction #Prettywitch's Fanfiction

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 7 years

Text

Pierce the Skies

Title: Pierce the Skies Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 2,836 Event + Prompt: @sormikweek day one - Elysia: Innocence/Beginnings Summary: Archery has never been Sorey's strong suit. Lucky for him, Mikleo has a knack for it. Notes: Hello! I'm Random and I've been lurking in the shadows long enough. Here's my first foray into the Zestiria fanfic world! Actually that's a lie - I've been writing sormik fic for months, but I decided to post now since it's Sormik Week! I'm super excited to share my writing and to see what everyone else has created. This fic came from an experience I had with trying archery, but that doesn't mean everything in here is entirely accurate ^^" I hope it's still enjoyable anyway!

Also on: AO3

The first arrow Sorey fires lands two metres in front of him. With a loud thwack, it strikes the ground, startling the poor prickleboar which was once his prey.

He watches it retreat, his tiny hands gripping the wood of his makeshift bow with a force that might be enough to splinter, were he not so young. He feels tears well up in his eyes, and though he knows there’s no need to cry, he can’t help but feel disappointed in himself.

Kyme kneels down beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Sorey. That wasn’t bad, for your first shot.”

“But I missed,” Sorey sniffles.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Kyme says. “There are plenty more prickleboars here. Do you want to try another one?”

Had he not felt so guilty, he might have given up for the day. So far it doesn’t feel like he’ll ever be any good at hunting with a bow and arrow. Besides, he wants to know what Mikleo’s being taught right now, in the lesson he apparently wasn’t allowed to attend. If it’s something they needed to be separated for, it must be some secret seraphic magic, right?

(Mikleo will tell Sorey everything he’s taught as soon as they’re reunited, of course. That’s how it always is, between them. All the seraphim in the village know that there is not a secret kept between the two children.)

Eventually, Sorey nods and lets Kyme lead him to a different group of bushes, facing a small clearing where a prickleboar sniffs at the ground, unaware of their presence. As he was taught, Sorey raises his bow in his right hand, carefully slotting the arrow in place and holding the weapon up with quivering hands. His stubby fingers clench the string as if letting go would send the arrow flying backwards towards himself.

“Look along the arrow to aim,” Kyme reminds him.

Sorey does so, setting his sights on the prickleboar. With his prey targeted, he draws back the arrow as much as he can. The problem with being so young, however, is that his bow is too big for his arms, and he isn’t able to get the full draw back on the string. When he releases the arrow, it acts much the same as the last - weakly floating for a few metres before stabbing the ground.

“You’ll get it eventually,” Kyme says, patting his shoulder lightly. “It takes time and practice, is all.”

Sorey doesn’t want to practice, though. The bow and arrow looks cool, sure, but he can already hunt with traps and the ceremonial sword he found when exploring the Mabinogio Ruins with Mikleo. Really, there shouldn’t be any reason he needs to learn to use a bow and arrow at all.

Before Kyme can suggest they try again, the sound of someone running towards them catches Sorey’s attention. He drops his weapon, turning to face the newcomer with a grin. “Mikleo!”

“Sorey,” Mikleo says, panting a little as he comes to a stop. “You’ll never believe what I just learnt!”

“Now, Mikleo,” Kyme says. His tone is not at all annoyed - in fact, he seems endeared by the children’s behaviour. “Sorey is in the middle of his own lesson.”

“Can Mikleo join?” Sorey asks. At least if Mikleo is here, it won’t feel so bad to not be able to use a bow and arrow. After all, Mikleo might not be able to use it either.

For a moment, Kyme considers it, before nodding. “I don’t see why not.”

It takes a few minutes for him to explain everything to Mikleo, taking care to flip the instructions to suit him as someone who is left-handed. When he finishes his explanation, he steps away from Mikleo to check his posture.

Sorey is entranced.

Mikleo looks like he is meant to use a bow and arrow. In the afternoon light, filtered through the leaves above them, he stands with a height taller than the trees, head held high and eyes piercing their prey as though they themselves are the arrow. His hands do not waver on the bow, though he too struggles to draw it back to its full potential. Sorey has always thought that Mikleo looks mature for his age (which is incredibly young, especially for a seraph), but in this position, he looks divine. Today, he is something Sorey cannot live up to.

Slowly, Mikleo draws back the arrow, then fires it.

It misses. But only barely.

“That was amazing, Mikleo,” Kyme says, patting him on the back. “You’ll become a fine archer.”

“Does that mean I don’t have to do it?” Sorey asks, feeling hopeful. “If Mikleo can do it, then he can hunt food with the bow and I’ll set some traps and get firewood.”

Kyme laughs at the suggestion, and tries to word his answer as nicely as he can. “There might come a time when you also need to use a bow, Sorey. We just want to make sure you’re prepared.”

Sorey is pretty sure there won’t be a time when he needs to use a bow and arrow when Mikleo isn’t with him. Even when he gets to explore the ruins in the world below, Mikleo will be there beside him, and they can probably hunt without a bow and arrow anyway, right?

Turning to face him, Mikleo grins. “Guess I win this round.”

“I’ll win next time, for sure!”

The two kids end up running back to the village without getting any more practice with the bow, and Kyme can’t find it in himself to be mad. They’re kids, after all. They might as well enjoy their childhood whilst they can.

When they enter the gate into Elysia, Mikleo drags Sorey in the direction of the house they share, ignoring the semi-questioning, semi-amused glances of the seraphim around the village. The moment they get inside, Mikleo closes the door behind him, his lips split in a grin.

“You wanna know what that lesson was about?”

Sorey nods enthusiastically. “Duh! Tell me everything!”

Falling into cross-legged sitting positions in front of the hearth, the boys huddle together as Mikleo begins to speak.

“Apparently we seraphim get these things called true names,” Mikleo says. “They’re really special! Gramps had to do some sort of arte to give me mine.”

“Woah,” Sorey says. “That sounds so cool! Can I get one?!”

Mikleo’s face falls a little, and he shakes his head. “Gramps said humans don’t need them.”

Despite Mikleo’s downtrodden expression and his own pang of disappointment, Sorey smiles. “Hey, it’s cool! So you have one, now?”

“Yeah. Gramps said true names are super special, and that I can’t tell anyone mine.” Before Sorey can even think to feel sad about not being allowed to know Mikleo’s true name, Mikleo leans forward with a conspiratorial grin. “You wanna know what it is, right?”

“Of course I do!”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I should tell someone who can’t even shoot a bow right…”

“Mikleo!”

“Maybe I won’t tell you.”

“Come on, tell me!”

Sorey launches forward, but Mikleo expects the attack. He blocks Sorey’s hands, then tries to reach his own towards Sorey’s abdomen. Sorey manages to reach past him, and the tickling ensues. Laughter fills the house as Mikleo wriggles under Sorey’s touch, both boys almost forgetting the conversation they’d been having in lieu of their tickle war.

Eventually, though, Sorey’s attack dies down, and both boys lie on the floor of the hut, breathing heavy. Everything is suddenly very quiet.

“Luzrof Rulay,” Mikleo whispers.

Gasping, Sorey sits up, staring wide-eyed at his friend. “Is that…?”

“You know what it is.” Mikleo gives Sorey a mock punch, though he smiles as he does it.

Sorey can’t bring himself to do anything other than stare, his lips mouthing the name silently.

“You can say it, you know,” Mikleo says.

So he does.

“Luzrof Rulay.”

The name feels perfect on his lips, perfect for the boy sitting next to him. The moment it passes his lips, he feels his connection with Mikleo grow stronger, somehow. He doesn’t really understand it, not when he’s so young and still has so much to learn. Still, cherishes it in his heart, a true link to Mikleo. A secret for the two of them.

It soon becomes clear that Sorey is not meant to be the archer of the pair. Even as he grows older and taller, his aim is still awful, and his hands shake whenever he draws the bow. Add the fact that Sorey does not enjoy his archery lessons, and the fact becomes reality.

Mikleo, on the other hand, is a natural. He soon becomes more than proficient in bow skills, hunting many of their meals with his own bow and arrow. The older seraphim can’t help but joke that it’s fitting, considering the difference in the children’s dispositions. Mikleo is straightforward, his mind always set on one thing. Sorey always has a mind filled with various possibilities, one which often strays away from his train of thought. Despite his young age, Mikleo has already found an answer without the bowstring of his heart wavering. It’s rather impressive, actually.

In the end, Sorey decides not to carry on with archery lessons, instead perfecting the other methods of hunting he knows - mainly smacking prickleboars around with his sword. That doesn’t mean he stops going to the lessons when he can, however, if only to watch Mikleo. He remains as mature and sophisticated as ever when he draws the bow, eyes focused on his target with pinprick precision. Sorey hasn’t seen him miss a shot in years.

He’s enthralled.

One afternoon, Mikleo is hunting as Sorey backs him up, though he’s mostly there to carry the load back to Elysia when he’s done. The afternoon light filters through the trees, shining on his face, but not enough to obscure his vision. With his back to Sorey, head facing forward, he draws the string back, aims, fires.

Thud.

“Nice shot,” Sorey says. “That makes four now.”

Mikleo lowers his bow, turning to face Sorey. “Four prickleboars for me, and none for you. I’m eating like a king tonight.”

“Hey! I can hunt prickleboars just fine! I just don’t want one of your shots to hit me.”

“Are you doubting my aim?”

“No way!”

The two of them laugh. A moment later, Sorey hauls himself up, moving over to the prickleboar. He retrieves the arrow, laying it on the ground before heaving the boar onto his back and taking it over to where the other three lie. When he turns around again, it is to see Mikleo examining the bloodied arrow, twirling it between his fingers with a delicate touch.

“Would you ever want to try archery again?” Mikleo asks.

“It’s not like I was much good at it,” Sorey says, scratching the back of his head. “Maybe if I was, then I would.”

Mikleo looks up from the arrow. “I could try helping you, you know.”

Sorey shrugs. He’s had Mikleo give him advice before, but he still can’t improve much. “I mean, I guess.”

“Come on, let’s try it now.”

Giving in, Sorey joins Mikleo, facing a tree with a sturdy trunk. Mikleo passes the bow to Sorey, who automatically gets into position, muscle memory from his lessons.

“Your posture is weird,” Mikleo says, moving closer to correct him. For a moment, Sorey becomes the arrow, moved by Mikleo’s touch into a more accurate position. It strains his back a little, and he can already feel his arms getting tired, but he perseveres.

“Is this okay?”

Mikleo hums, pulling out a fresh arrow and anchoring it to the string for him from Sorey’s right side, facing the bow. He then moves to stand behind Sorey’s back, examining his posture once more. “Your hand is shaking.”

“Oh, I didn’t notice.” He tries to still his quivering hand, but nothing happens. The bow still shudders under its touch, yearning for its usual master.

With a sigh, Mikleo puts his hand over Sorey’s on the bow, using his other to lift his right elbow a tad higher. His arms only barely bend when stretched across Sorey’s wingspan, something he decides not to comment on, knowing he’ll most likely get doused in water for his teasing.

“Aim for the tree,” Mikleo says.

He does. Or at least, he tries to.

“Pull the arrow back.”

He does. Mikleo’s hands remain where they are, supporting him.

“Now.”

He lets go.

Dully, the arrow pierces the ground a metre to the left of the tree. Mikleo’s hands fall away as Sorey lets his own arms drop, his grip on the bow tight.

“That’s better than before,” Mikleo says. “But I won’t be able to support you every time you shoot an arrow.”

“Well, that’s why you do the aiming, then,” Sorey says, turning to him with a grin. “You can handle the long-range attacks!”

Mikleo smirks. “Or maybe I’ll stick to my staff. It’s easier to spar with, anyway.”

“Hey, your choice.”

On the inside, though, Sorey can’t help but be thankful for Mikleo’s choice. As much as he likes seeing him using a bow and arrow, he values the time spent sparring with him more than that.

True to his word, when they reach the world below a couple of years later, Mikleo continues to use his staff in battle. Sorey can always count on him to be at his left side, fending off the hellions as best he can with his seraphic artes, and often diving into the fray with martial artes. Part of Sorey feels a little bad, knowing what it’s like to be on the receiving end of those artes during their practice sessions.

Perhaps that’s why, during their argument, when his presence is missing for so many battles, Sorey feels a little off-balance.

(Though his eye might be partially to blame. Still, that doesn’t explain why having the aid of fire instead of water felt so strange when he explored the Vivia Subterranean Aqueduct with Lailah.)

In any case, he continues to fight regardless. It’s not like he has another choice, and besides, he’s the one who caused this situation to happen. He doesn’t regret it, either - he doesn’t want to push his burdens onto Mikleo. Not when Mikleo has his own dream to achieve.

Luckily, time passes quickly, in that period of absence. Pushed on by their wish to find a vessel for the guardian seraph, his party travel to the Galahad Ruins, an expedition made less exciting by a presence Sorey won’t admit to missing.

(It’s not like they can’t tell, though. Missing Mikleo is almost like a kind of homesickness. Even though he doesn’t let it show, he still feels a vacancy in his heart, something missing, a feeling which tugs at the bowstrings of his heart. He knows Mikleo will return, eventually, but that doesn’t stop the feeling from pervading his soul.)

A short ways into the ruins, they find a room dedicated solely to an altar holding a beautiful bow, sculpted from metals, painted blue like the waves it represents. It is the Divine Artifact for a water seraph, Lailah explains.

(And Sorey, despite himself, can’t help but remember halcyon days in the sun, watching as Mikleo’s small arms drew back the string of his bow. As little as he wants to burden Mikleo with becoming a Sub Lord, he can’t imagine armatizing with any other water seraph, especially with this bow; An artifact filled with memories and nostalgia, history Sorey sometimes wishes to repeat.

He carries on without looking back.)

Yet, it seems the bow is destined to come into his hand, for only a short time later, Mikleo bursts in, a tidal wave of stubborn energy and determination.

“Do you really think this is your dream alone?” Mikleo asks, and everything clicks in place.

Holding up his arm, he says, “This is our dream.”

With the Sub Lord pact made, Sorey doesn’t think twice before enacting the armatus, Mikleo’s true name spilling from his lips in a natural flow. A familiar sensation of coolness envelopes him, and suddenly he is not alone, the vacancy filled as everything slots into place. The bow falls into his right hand as if it was meant to be there.

“I’ll do the aiming,” Mikleo says, already getting into the left-handed shooting stance. The unspoken words ring through, and Sorey can’t help but grin.

“Alright,” Sorey says, letting Mikleo guide their arms to aim at one of the centipede hellions flanking them. “I’m counting on you.”

Together, they pull back a bolt of water on the bowstring to its full potential, hesitating only for a moment before letting it pierce the hellions. Energy flows through them, connecting them in harmony.

“Congrats, you finally hit the target,” Mikleo teases as they aim once more.

Sorey can’t help but grin. “Shut up.”

Together, they pierce the skies.

Follow me @luzrof-rulay on tumblr | @luzrofrulay on twitter for more Tales Of content!

#sormik #sormikweek2017 #tales of zestiria #toz #tales of zestiria fanfiction #here i am; outing myself as a toz stan #actually i lied i've reblogged plenty of toz stuff on my main and on twitter too #aghhhhhh i'm nervous ;;;;;#why is posting my first work in a new fandom so nerve wracking omg #maybe it's bc there are so many great authors and artists in this fandom #in any case i'm here to rep my boys / support fandom writers and artists / have a good time #look forward to day three it's currently 7k words and still not complete #how does one write a summary

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