#mdfm

[bauliya]

my relationship with royai is that I'll write meta that goes "roy can't kill himself because that's the equivalent of shooting his beloved in the head but the alternative is executing her with his own hand with a few extra steps. there is no third option" and then write a 20k fic that ends with them married with kids that spend their summer vacations in resembool and xing, playing with their elric cousins and connecting with their xingese heritage ❤️

[bauliya]

When he's two weeks old, he's a Xingese orphan in a tiny border village. When he's fourteen, he's a precocious alchemist and desperately in love. When he's twenty nine, he's a man with shattered dreams and broken promises and a painful title of 'the hero of Ishval'.

The story of Roy Mustang, which is a story of guilt, redemption, ambition, lots of singed eyebrows, some very fancy suits, families—found and otherwise, and years and years of pining after Riza Hawkeye.

read it here! for long drawn angst with a happy ending and a childhood friends to lovers to complicated to lovers again.

@agentcalliope

it's basically based on this post

[bauliya]

EVERYONE.

read my royai fic which is my most favourite thing I've ever written.

thanks.

[bauliya]

the wounds that ache at night

in the scant few nights they share a bed, nightmares are a fact of life. riza wakes with a quiet, sharp inhale, and finds his arms around her every time. but roy sobs. roy thrashes. roy doesn’t wake up. 

she shakes him and he clings like a man drowning, and she whispers things into his ear, things that ground, inside jokes, his name, the date. tries not to think what he does when he’s alone. 

and then he writes. 

 there’s always a notebook on the bedside table. she drifts off to the scratch of pencil. 

that particular night, she sees ishval again. smells the blood, the ash, the rotting flesh. dawn’s creeping in through the curtains, and he’s hugged her all night, but it’s not enough. not today. 

riza slips away and paces the floor, quiet as a mouse. her eyes fly across his form, across the dark hair splayed on the pillow, to the notebook. it’s small, battered, spine broken.

riza decides to flip through. 

it’s mostly gibberish. some alchemic arrays, perfect circles. nothing that references what actually wakes him—except. 

the handwriting’s messy and the paper’s warped with water.  

at night i am in an empty field  inhaling ashes of my own making behind me is Her, resolute and ahead only blood and coal 

my demons, have mercy my demons, let me sleep my demons, forgive me

riza sits on the edge of the bed for a moment, and then plucks her clothes from the floor. dresses quickly. leaves. doesn’t notice the brown eyes staring at her back. 

[bauliya]

it's so fun to write havoc like go on you little shit rile up your boss you know you're gonna plow his ass later mwah

[bauliya]

me: i am writing a royai fic

also me:

[bauliya]

hello !!!!! i just wanted to say that i love your royai commentary / text posts and thANK YOU for doing this important work !!!!! that is all!!! have a great day!!!!

KFFKDKKDKD D U D E

listen I am writing a fic and my one (1) goal is to somehow fit literally every single one of my royai headcanons into it so keep watching.

[bauliya]

how i sleep knowing i will have my beta's amazing incoherent screaming to a few Emotional Scenes to wake up to: