#sniperward

          gracia... elicia... i’m sorry. 

it’s the last thing he remembers, after the BANG! after the pain consumed his body. what a dirty trick, turning into his wife... he could never hurt her. maes’ head pounds as he opens his eyes, letting out a soft groan as he comes back to life. he hears elicia’s voice first -- mommy, mommy, daddy’s awake! and then there’s a lot to process. 

it’s been months, but he’s woken up from a coma. gracia tries to comfort him, and hughes tries to figure out what he’s missed. armstrong keeps pretty tight-lipped, once clarity fills hughes’ mind. they keep him on bed rest, observing him, to make sure he’s fully recuperated. he feels weak and wants to just go on with his life. “where’s roy?” he asks armstrong, who only expresses joy at seeing hughes’ well again. 

ghibli meme / accepting. 

                 it’s hard, harder than she ever imagined it would be, seeing the lieutenant in such a state. usually she was so strong and so brave - it seemed as though nothing would ever be able to rattle her. but now beads of cold sweat were starting to collect on the older woman’s forehead and her cheeks were void of color.  the only consolation was that her shallow breaths were even and she was able to keep herself awake. 

       the guilt that winry already felt hit her tenfold. trembling fingers push a bit harder on the fabric, jaw clenching as she succeeds in slowing the pulsing ebb of blood that’s been seeping over riza’s clothes, through the fabric and dripping down winry’s legs to pool on the floor beneath them. 

            she’d already stopped riza from trying to rise and follow colonel mustang several times, each time she’d moved the blood had gushed from her in such a great amount winry was afraid she would die right there on the spot. they’d been instructed to wait, that help would be coming to retrieve them and despite their protests it soon became clear that the lieutenant could not be moved by winry alone. 

         there’s an explosion in the distance and winry flinches instinctively though riza does not react to the sound. they can only assume that it’s colonel mustang catching up with the man who dragged a blade across his lieutenant’s shoulder when she had jumped forward to push winry out of harm’s way. she’s not sure if riza knows what she’s saying, her sentences have become tired and broken, words muttered under her breath getting softer and softer with the blood that now soaked both women. 

       riza’s words are almost drowned out by the sound of military boots rushing their way and the voices that were shouting into their radios that they’d located lieutenant hawkeye and miss rockbell, but winry can hear them as she leans forward, determined not to let anyone separate her from riza. not until the colonel returns, someone had to stay with her. 

        there’s another explosion and winry understands, she understands it so completely that she doesn’t have to question it for a minute. just as it is with her and ed, it is with riza and roy. there is a bond there so strong that nothing will ever break it, and she wonders if that’s what riza is trying to tell her as her. it must be. 

gay

he hated being in distress. he hadn’t meant to come off so ungrateful - it was just his pride getting in the way of his better judgement. there’s a defeated sigh from the lightning alchemist folds his arms over his chest, and looks towards the other.

❝A guy’s gotta know, Lieutenant. I mean, what the hell do you see in that damn -- ❞ Stopping halfway, Edward recalls her FONDNESS for Mustang, as both a leader and a man, and -- even if his own relationship with the officer is tumultuous at best -- he’s enough respect for Hawkeye to curb his disdain. ❝What do you see in the Colonel, really? You could follow anyone.❞

  im so mad @ myself like im pissed @ jj for the...

this is literally true for the whole mcu. there are no words to describe my hatred for the mcu

           he places a lunch on the desk of the other because he knew that she would be here ( or maybe he just bought too much -- or maybe he just didn’t want to eat alone and this lunch was for whoever he could find to take it. ) Emil was hard to read , and yet not all at the same time - the people who were closest to him either didn’t know anything or knew too much. He didn’t know if she was busy or not ( if she was , she would obviously tell him to leave. ) Bruises cover his whole face from a previous stakeout where he was again all too hasty to get involved. He’s tired. Some sense of normalcy would be nice. 

          [    made too much.   ]  he signs , before sitting down in the chair across from her with a breath of relief. His back always seemed to hurt nowadays.