#now winry knows how it feels to wear automail | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sassydefendorflower · 2 years ago

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I posted 7,996 times in 2022

That's 5,372 more posts than 2021!

55 posts created (1%)

7,941 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@notteadrops

@awkwardalphajay

@blas-ph-emy

@fanfictiongreenirises

@elytrians

I tagged 1,115 of my posts in 2022

#unreality - 193 posts

#poppy war spoilers - 97 posts

#yes - 45 posts

#ask game - 21 posts

#goncharov - 16 posts

#poppy war - 12 posts

#fma - 12 posts

#fmab - 11 posts

#y e s - 11 posts

#my writing - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i think it needs to be remembered that critical thinking and suspense of disbelief are two completely different tools of engaging with media

My Top Posts in 2022:

I know Ice Pick Joe ultimately died to save Katya and break free from the circle of abuse, but I can’t help but weep for the cats he adopted throughout the film as a sign for his inner heart.

Like... I know it was part comic relief/much needed levity for a film as dark as Goncharov, but I really felt for Ice Pick Joe and his five adopted cats. Who do they have now? Ice Pick Joe is gone.

77 notes - Posted November 20, 2022

You know what always bothered me about this screenshot? That Ed’s clothes aren’t pinned back on his left side. We know it took almost a year before he had his automail surgery, recovered from it, and did the PT necessary to use his arm and leg to their full capacity again. During that time it would have been a tripping hazard to let his empty pant legs just fly around (same goes for the sleeves of long sleeved shirts).

So...

Headcanon Time :D

While Pinako and Winry did pin up the legs of his own pants, they never dared to do the same to Alphonse’s old clothes. Of course not. Not one of them wanted to acknowledge that Alphonse might no longer be able to wear them - Ed was much the same. Alphonse once said that they could give his clothes away and Ed yelled at him until he had to stop or cry.

At the same time... Alphonse hated how nobody was using his stuff anymore, all the things he had once loved but now could no longer feel. So, since these two brothers would do anything for each other, he asked Ed for a favor: he asked Ed to wear his old clothes.

And Ed said yes. Of course, he did.

He needed this reminder of Alphonse’s humanity just as much as Al did. He wanted to feel close to his baby brother, to the brother he felt responsible for. So, quite often, he wore Al’s clothes in the year that followed the incident. And since neither Winry nor Pinako would touch these almost sacred clothes, they never got altered the way Ed’s wardrobe was following the loss of his limbs.

Later, when Ed joined the military, he gave up on wearing Al’s clothes for two reasons:

a) since Ed had actually grown at least a bit between his eleventh birthday and his twelfth and Al’s clothes were growing to small

and

b) he didn’t want the military to soil his memory of Al - so, Ed chose a coat with the symbol of their teacher on the back and dark clothes he knew Al would never wear, and asked his brother to join him on their dangerous quest

104 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

You know what I find interesting about the Goncharov (1973) phenomena? Tumblr had the opportunity to make Goncharov and Mario or Andrey or Sergei explicitly gay - they had the chance to write the next cookie-cutter bland Gay Pairing that fits into the current fandom trends of ship hopping and washed out boring dudes... but they didn’t.

Yes, many people wrote homoerotic subtext for Katya and Sofia and for Goncharov and Andrey, people faked academic queer readings of this masterpiece or wrote about the subversion of toxic masculinity within the film...

But as a collective we decided that all of this would be subtext. We decided that Katya and Goncharov are married, and it might not even be a loveless marriage (the jury’s still out on that one) after all. We decided that it’s a tragedy with Goncharov being betrayed by his wife, and killed by Andrey (which is often read as a sign of love and commitment). We gave a side character the ability to break out of the narrative, Ice Pick Joe the only character who escapes the circle of violence while everyone else falls victim to the narrative - time is a flat circle, after all, and loss of identity and the inevitability of one’s fate are the central themes of this fake movie.

We could have turned it into a gay romcom or a mafia spoof or some flat reimagining of movies from a long time ago.... but we chose to turn it into something that is far rarer and more fun to analyze: a tragic tale of love and betrayal and queerness and the horrors of the cold war and lonliness and death and time.

Our reading of Goncharov (1973) is queer - but the movie itself isn’t.

(only that it is, because we created Goncharov and as such we are a part of its story)

192 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

Gentle reminder than Chen Kitay does know how to fight and is not a clumsy soft boy. He was good enough at material arts that he could have pledged combat if he hadn’t thrown his fight against Nezha - and he gave up because he knew Nezha would win either way and he didn’t want to get beat up.

Rin is the person who only sees Kitay for his good qualities and regularly forgets that he is a very capable soldier, even if his true worth places him in the war room.

But Chen Kitay can fight. And he will kill.

313 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Holy Server B@tman! Fanfic Rec List

Hello and welcome to a very special fanfic rec list!

The members of the amazing Holy Server B@tman! Server are an extremely talented bunch - many great artists and writers together in one place to foster each other’s creativity and joy to participate in fandom.

That has to be celebrated!

So, please welcome a list of stories our writers loved to create, their very own Greatest Hits!

(please click on your own discretion - you’ll find the appropriate warnings on ao3)

if you fall in, i’ll jump down by rutaceae @applejee

When boys like Tim are going missing in Gotham City, Cass pushes herself to the limit to solve the case before any more boys disappear, fearful that Tim himself will be a target. This doesn't work, and ends up with her captured instead.

Luka’s words: i would say this is my favourite because Cass has so many complex motivations, and i’m super proud of the way i wrote her here!! also women deserve whump too!

Asimov’s Integral by sElkieNight60 @selkienight60

Tim is an unwanted android, a Robo-Child. After being sent back by his parents, his last and only hope rests in the hands of a man still grieving the loss of his own son.

Selkie’s words: I like this fic because it inspired catharsis in so many people!

You Wing Some, You Lose Some by AuroraKant @sassydefendorflower

When Dick agreed to do this mission with Jason, he knew it would most likely include some physical pain - but waterboarding? Really? Dick hated getting waterboarded.

Aurora’s words: This was the most fun I had writing a Batfamily fic in a long time - especially since Jason and Dick are just such a funky brother dynamic to delve into!

I Must Leave, Right Now, Immediately by motleyfam @motleyfam

Tim splits his pants at a charity gala. To say that he’s expecting merciless teasing from his brothers is an understatement.

What he gets is… not that?

motley’s words: this fic was the most objectively fun for me to write and reading people’s reactions to the twist always makes me grin!

How Far Can We Go? by SilverSuperSpy @supersilversleuth

Dick closed his eyes, anguish tearing through him. “It won’t be enough. It’s impossible, Jay. We wouldn’t make it.”

“Well we have to try!” Jason shouted at him, betrayal in his eyes. “Did the Change suddenly make you stop caring about them? The Dick Grayson I know wouldn’t give up on his family.”

Silver’s words: I wrote some of my highest quality Dick Whump for it.

Something Left Unsaid by AshWinterGray

See the full post

655 notes - Posted October 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years ago

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Fic: Haven (26/50)

Summary: They say Resembool is a haven, and they’re right. Lush pastures, quaint country town, farmers’ markets on Saturdays: a bucolic paradise.

But it’s more than that. Resembool is a haven for the runaways, the deserters, the people who don’t want to be found…

The Resembool community knows there’s something odd about Hohenheim, but they’re not going to let that stop them helping him out. This is Resembool after all, a place where no one has to hide and neighbours help neighbours, be they building a fence, chasing a sheep, or trying to save the country from an evil they inadvertently helped release centuries ago…

Or: A series of slices of life in an AU in which Hohenheim never leaves, and several broken state alchemists find hope and home in Resembool.

Rated: T

Haven

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [AO3]

Summary: Winry creates automail for Imrul.

Characters: Imrul (Scar), Winry, Ed, Pinako, Fahim (Scar’s brother)

“So, as you can see, this is the port; this will be permanently grafted onto your shoulder. And this is where we’ll attach the arm. We do it this way so that we can still do maintenance on the arm and you can wear a spare prosthetic in the meantime - or not if you don’t want to - but the point is that you don’t have to sit here for as long as it will take us to tune up the arm if it’s going to take a long time to repair it.”

Winry looks up from her explanation towards Imrul, who is listening intently. She’s finished building the prototype of his port and arm and is now taking him through the basics. To say that he was a bit sceptical of a kid designing his new arm would be an understatement, but now that he’s seen her at work and can see the finished product for himself, he doesn’t seem to be as concerned.

“Any questions at this stage?”

He shakes his head, then nods.

“Yes?”

“What’s Ed doing?”

Winry looks over her shoulder towards the window, where Ed appears to be trying to get her attention. He and Al are such regular fixtures at her place that Imrul is very familiar with them. She does get the impression that he’d rather not be very familiar with them.

She sighs and goes over, opening the window.

“What do you want?”

“Is it finished?”

“What?”

“Imrul’s arm! I’ve been giving you all this encouragement whilst you’ve been making it and I want to see the finished product.”

“Ed, it’s not even your arm! I don’t get why you’re so interested in it!”

“Well, excuse me for taking an interest in your interests.”

Winry sighs and shuts the window, going to let Ed in. Imrul is still sitting in the workroom looking over the arm and the port, and his expression is a mixture of amused, confused, and slightly worried.

“I apologise for this idiot,” Winry says with a sigh, knocking Ed’s hand with a wrench as he goes to touch the port. “It’s not your arm, Ed! Leave it alone!”

“It’s looking great!” Ed turns to Imrul. “It’s going to be great. Winry and Granny Pinako are the best automail mechanics in town. Well, they’re the only automail mechanics in town but even if they weren’t, they’d still be the best. You’re in good hands. And Winry makes great hands!”

He picks up Imrul’s hand as proof and Winry snatches it back.

“For goodness’ sake, Ed!”

For all Imrul is grim and dour, she thinks she sees him crack the smallest hint of a smile out of the corner of her eye. When she looks, though, it’s gone.

“When can we do the surgery?” he asks.

Imrul’s surgery takes place two weeks later. Fahim is with him when he wakes up after it.

“Hey. The arm looks good.”

It feels strange, having something there after months of just about getting used to there not being anything there. He knows that he has a long road of rehabilitation and learning how to use that hand again.

“How are you feeling?”

Honestly, he’s feeling as if he’s been run over by a stampeding cattle train and then thrown in a ditch for good measure. His shoulder is sore where the port has been grafted onto the skin, and even though he knows that the automail arm can’t feel pain, there’s still a throbbing sensation shooting up and down it. He goes to move the arm, there’s a slight clunk but other than that, nothing happens, and Fahim gently holds down on the arm to stop him trying again.

“Dr Rockbell said not to try and move it just yet in case your shoulder gets inflamed.”

Pinako and Winry come in then, no doubt having been alerted to his state of wakefulness by Fahim’s voice.

“Welcome back.” Pinako starts checking all the tubes that are snaking in and out of him. “How are you doing? How’s the arm?”

“It feels like my real one’s still there,” Imrul mutters, looking down at the hand that he’s seen on Winry’s workbench so many times, not really able to believe that it’s now attached to him.

“Yes, that’s normal. It’s a strange sensation, phantom pain, but it’ll fade. The nerves are just a bit confused, that’s all. They can tell that there’s something there that wasn’t there before. The surgery was a complete success, no problems at all, and we’re not anticipating any issues with you starting your rehabilitation as soon as you’ve recovered and the graft has settled down after a couple of weeks.”

Winry, who has been checking the automail, straightens up with the triumphant declaration that everything is working as it should be. Having made sure that everything’s all right, the two Rockbell women leave him alone to rest. Fahim is still there, but after helping him take some sips of water, he doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Imrul finds his mind wandering as he begins to drowse again.

He thinks about the kindness of strangers. The Rockbells have nothing to gain from helping him and Fahim in the way they have done, and whilst it’s never been discussed in front of him, Imrul knows that automail is not cheap and that he and Fahim can’t afford it, so his new arm has come out of the goodness of Winry’s heart. In fact, not only do they have nothing to gain, they’ve got a hell of a lot to lose if it becomes more widely known outside of Resembool and its environs that they’re running a clinic where Ishvalans are welcome.

It makes him think that maybe, there’s some good in the world somewhere after all. Maybe not all Amestrians are the blue-eyed devils he had taken to thinking of them as towards the end when all they did was bring misery and destruction wherever they went. It’s always been the way throughout history, looking at the old bloody battles that took place before the Ishvalan genocide. Always the Amestrians fighting their way into new places and subjugating the locals.

Resembool seems to be the miracle exception, and even though it’s such a small place in comparison to the entire rest of Amestris, it’s good to know that it exists. Imrul still isn’t entirely at home here. There’s so much potential for things to go wrong, for him and the rest of the Ishvalans sheltering here to be found out. He’s coming to realise, though, that if anything does happen, it won’t be the result of a betrayal, and that the people here, from all walks of life and all places across the map, will always protect their own - and now their own includes him and his people as well.

#FMA: Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Winry Rockbell #Scar #Fic: Haven

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anthropwashere · 4 years ago

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deadfic: To Build His House

Further deadfic for @goodintentionswipfest, have the abandoned 6k of a giftfic for @phantomrose96 I wrote in 2017 as thanks for

a) for getting me back into FMA b) breaking my heart with all that damn good fic of hers

This was to be a continuation of her fic Giving Tree, which is so completely my jam it isn’t even funny. It will definitely help if you go (re)read that before reading mine.

“Can you give me a house?" ‘"I have no house," said the tree. "The forest is my house, but you may cut off my branches and build a house. Then you will be happy." And so the boy cut off her branches and carried them away to build his house. And the tree was happy.’ - The Giving Tree, Shel Silverstein

White. That’s all he sees at first. A white canvas, stretching on in every direction, as pure and unmarred as a freshly fallen snow. His eyes sting. He squints, disoriented and off-kilter; his mind’s a haze he can’t think clearly through. He can’t remember what he’d been doing before—

Wait.

His eyes sting.

“Oh no,” he breathes, and he’s breathing, exhaling out his dismay. His lungs deflate, his vocal chords hum, his throat rasps and his mouth’s as dry as sand. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, swollen and pinched between his teeth. His chapped lips part reluctantly, catching on his teeth, peeling apart like a wound.

He’s in his body again, and it’s all he can do to keep breathing.

[[Welcome back.]]

He hears many voices speaking as one, a crowd perfectly in sync; young and old, masculine and feminine and a childlike singsong spun through. He can hear his brother��s voice loudest of all, speaking confidently, speaking with that ear-to-ear grin he reserves for fights he knows he’s already won. It seems to come from nowhere, or perhaps it’s only that he’s still struggling to see with his own eyes. He can see Edward’s Gate, of course; it’d be hard to miss the towering stone slab suspended on nothing, an intricate design upon the doors that seems both ancient and freshly carved. There are words, he knows, but he— his body, his body, his body— is sitting too far away to make any of them out.

And sitting opposite him is God.

Before East City, before his armor fractured and his blood seal splintered, before he woke up in this white void between two stone slabs face to face with this same thing, he never understood what Edward had meant when he’d mention any of this. It was an accident usually, a slip of the tongue that made Edward go still and look up at him out of the corner of his eye, as if he expected him to remember. He never did, but he’d pressed Edward to explain, once or twice. Edward’s voice always hushed a little, as respectful as he was fearful, as scared of the thing he called Truth as he was angry at it for taking so much from them. Edward always broke off before he ever said much, brushed it aside like it didn’t give him nightmares that he had to be gently shaken out of more nights than not.

After East City, he understands now why Edward calls it Truth instead of God. He doesn’t feel the same need to make a distinction between what’s sitting here and what people think is waiting for them when they die. It doesn’t scare him, like it scares Edward, and it isn’t bravery that makes him think this way. He thinks of God like a gemstone; faceted, blinding and plain in turns. The God sitting opposite him isn’t the one that took his body— or, it is, but it’s only one part of the greater whole. It is all and it is one, and it’s also so much more than that.

God has three of Edward’s limbs now.

“What happened?” He asks. It doesn’t hurt to talk, but his body is out of practice.

[[Don’t you remember? Think carefully.]]

It smiles at him fondly, a suggestion of teeth in an otherwise absent face. It had smiled the first time he’d passed through the Gate too, on that terrible night. He remembers it so clearly now; reaching into the light for the shape of his mother, only to be grabbed by his own hand. God had unraveled him that night, grinned with his stolen face before casting his soul into the twisted, broken thing they’d made. He shudders, the sensation of hot blood pooling in his throat as fresh as when it had happened. He licks his teeth, looking down at his pale, too-thin hands. His long hair tickles his spine and falls into his eyes, obscuring God briefly. His fingernails are too long too, but not as long he’d think they’d be, considering he hasn’t clipped them in years. They look torn, ragged. What does God do with his body when he isn’t in it?

He shakes his head. No, that isn’t what he needs to be thinking about right now. Where had he been before this? What had he been doing?

Resembol. They’d been in Resembol. Brother was recovering from his surgery, only just beginning his rehabilitation. The bandages had only come off last week, and his left shoulder still looked more like raw meat than scar tissue. It would be another month before Granny and Winry could put the protective plating on. His third automail limb, a steel port cupping his scapula, support struts clamped to his ribs, his remaining nerves threaded into a half dozen sockets for the control wiring to connect to.

God tilts Its head, watching him intently. It doesn’t have eyes that he can see, but he can feel Its gaze like a physical weight, cold and alien, like a bird watching a worm wriggling across the dirt. It sits loosely, in a comfortable sprawl. Edward’s arms are in Its lap, and Edward’s leg is curled neatly under It. His face twists, the guilt natural but the feel of muscle and skin reacting to his emotions almost as alien as the thing watching him. Brother should hate him. His weakness the night they tried to bring Mom back cost Edward his right arm, and the left now as well. Brother should want nothing to do with him, should want to leave him in this place to wither.

But Edward, impossibly, doesn’t seem to resent him at all. Edward just smiles at him, even through the pain, trying to reassure him. Sorry about the setback, Al. We’ll get back on track as soon as possible, okay? Like it was Ed’s fault he’d lost— traded— his arm. He hasn’t heard Ed complain once, not once, since they’ve been in Resembol, even with the winter cold and the spring thaw snapping at his old stumps, even with through the worst of the outfitting process, even with—

The spring thaw.

[[Ah, is it coming back to you now?]]

“Yes,” he says automatically. The spring thaw. He remembers now, and how could he have forgotten? That had been the closest Brother has come to being angry with him since they’d returned to Resembol, shouting himself flushed and sweating, demanding that he not go out there. But the thaws and the spring storms are always difficult this high up in the mountain. The river flooded every year, a [unfinished]

Winry doesn’t know what to do.

“It’ll be fine,” Ed says. “I can handle it.”

“Leave it to the search team,” Granny chastises. “They’ll bring him home just fine without any help from you.”

“Al fell in the river. He’s too big to fish out without alchemy, and I can’t do alchemy one-handed.”

Granny’s face hardens. “You’re in no condition to go traipsing around in a storm, Ed.”

“I’m the only one who can save him. There’s no other options—”

“There are plenty of good folk out there happy to help you boys if you’d just give them half a chance, and none of them are recovering from surgery.”

Winry watches Ed’s right hand briefly touch the empty port making up his left shoulder. The soft click of steel against steel is an admission all on its own. He’s only wearing a faded tank top so the new scarring is on full display, raw and pink, licking up his neck and across his collarbone. He’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen, boots on and a frightening calm draped across his shoulders. She keeps expecting him to shout, to crack the wall with his one fist, to tell them both to go to hell as he charges out into the storm and damn the consequences. Ed has always been short-tempered, volatile and furious when the world doesn’t follow his expectations. She’s never been afraid of him before, and there’s no reason to start now… is there?

He’s nodding agreeably to every sharp word Granny snaps at him, and he still insists that he has to go. “You don’t understand,” he says patiently. “If he fell in the river his blood seal in all likelihood has washed away. There’ll just be a suit of armor down in the riverbed.”

“So let the search team find Alphonse’s armor,” Granny says. If anyone’s angry it’s her, glaring up at Ed over her glasses, a screwdriver tightly clenched in one hand. The half-assembled arm on the kitchen table lays forgotten, curls of wire spilled across the pitted wood. Ed’s new left arm. “You’ll only earn yourself a fever if you go out there.”

“I can get over a fever,” he says.

“It’s much too early to put so much strain on your body.”

“You and I both know I can handle it.”

Granny scoffs, throwing down her screwdriver. A few bolts scatter across the floor, but no one makes any move to pick them up. Ed just smiles.

“I’m not asking for a whole arm, Granny. Just enough of one I can clap with.”

Her pipe clicks against her teeth as she purses her mouth, looking like she’s sorely tempted to toss Ed out with nothing but the clothes on his back. Damn the consequences. “Oh? Is that all you’ll be doing? And what about when you do find him? If his seal has washed away, do you intend on cutting off your leg next to bring him back again?”

He shrugs, sheepish. He’s only got the one shoulder, the left port empty and stiff. Funny. Winry can’t find the beauty in the easy motion of his automail. It’s been four months since he came back home with the wrong arm missing, and the absence on his left side still makes her breath catch. “What’s a limb to a life?”

Granny all but snarls at him. “Idiot boy! You’ve only got the one left!” But then the fury spills out of her in a slow, weary sigh. She touches her hand to her temple, eyes falling shut. “How many more times do you intend to do this?”

“I’ll handle it. Granny, please—”

She smacks her hand on the table, rattling metal plating. Winry jumps despite herself, but Ed doesn’t react at all. “Don’t beg,” Granny spits. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Winry is sitting opposite her at the kitchen table, Ed’s new fingers so many unconnected joints scattered between her hands. They’ve been taking his new arm slow, no need to rush order it because his port still needs time to heal. Slow jobs like this they like to share over cups of coffee, Den napping quietly at their feet. Ed’s been antsy, pushing himself too far too soon with his rehabilitation, but none of them had been surprised. He’d done the same thing with the first two limbs, and he’d been out the door and on his way to Central in a year. Still, even Ed’s not crazy enough to start slinging around a new arm on a new port after four months.

Except he is. He’ll always be that crazy, when Alphonse is in danger.

“Is—” She hesitates when both of them look at her, bites her lip until she can bring herself to ask, “Is Alphonse... dead?”

Ed shakes his head, no harsh snap of denial, no insults, no shouts. Just a calm, frightening certainty. “If his seal has been damaged, then his soul will have returned to his body.”

“But— but that’s good, isn’t it?”

For the first time since Mr. Caddeo knocked on the door and told them Alphonse had fallen into the swollen river, Edward’s face betrays some real emotion beyond this eerie, placid confidence. His mouth parts, his shoulder hunches, his eyes scrunch up. For one brief moment he almost looks like he’s about to cry. But it passes, like ripples in a pond, and that gentle smile returns.

“No, it’s not. The place his body’s at—” He chuckles, softly. His right hand is a fist at his side, gears humming protest. “I don’t think you can call it a real place. To be trapped there, I think…. I think you’d have to go crazy just to cope.”

Winry can’t say anything to that. She looks down at the spilled finger joints, the empty casings, the miniscule screws that will hold his fingers together once she’s put them together. Sheets of rain beat against the house. A hard wind rattles the windows. It’s mid-afternoon and the sky outside is black as coal dust, and Ed wants to charge headlong into the storm.

Ed says, “I can’t leave him there. Not for one second more than I have to.”

Granny’s voice is flinty, unwavering. “I can’t condone this.”

“I’m not asking you to. But I’m going to look for him, with or without your help. You can give me an arm, or I’ll go out there with a shovel.”

She sighs again, shaking her head. Winry watches the slump of her narrow shoulders, the weariness weighing down her small body. Granny’s never looked so old as this. “You’re gonna kill yourself if you keep this up, you know.”

“He’s my brother,” Ed says. “He’s all I’ve got left.”

The dummy arm barely qualifies as automail, only just complex enough to still hurt when the nerves are connected. Ed grinds his teeth and goes rigid, but doesn’t make a sound. It’s a skeletal thing, cobbled together out of old parts with no external plating to speak of, clusters of wiring carefully pinned away from the joints. It’s only real use is to help Ed adjust to the feel of using a prosthetic, a stepping stone to the arm she hasn’t finished building yet. It doesn’t have much in the way of fine motor control, and lacks pressure plating in the fingertips or palm. Weights can be attached to it to accustom the port to the eventual feel of the real thing. It’s controls are rudimentary at best; the elbow bends fine, but the wrist and shoulders don’t have much range of motion and the fingers tend to react as one.

It’s not meant to be a stand-in for real automail, just simple exercises. But Ed needs an arm; the dummy will have to do.

Winry walks him through the basic exercises mechanically, feeling like an outsider watching herself talk. “Don’t do anything crazy, okay? The dummy’s not built for your usual stunts. When you find him, you have to let the others do the heavy lifting, okay?”

“I know. Thanks.” He stands up, adjusting to the weight. Even stripped down to bare essentials, it is still heavy. He’s worked up to having it on a few hours at a time each day, but that still left his stump aching, even if he never said it out loud. He rolls the shoulder carefully, the leather support harness across his bare chest creaking.

Granny watches him as he struggles into his tank top again, eyes slitted. “Two hours, Ed. Not a minute more.”

“Right,” he says, walking over to where his red coat is hung up by the front door. He regards it for a few seconds, then gingerly raises both hands to clap. There’s a flash of blue light, and when Winry can see again the coat is hanging differently than before. He takes it down with his right hand and tuts.

“Sloppy,” he mutters, but starts to put it on anyway. Winry quickly steps toward him to help, expecting him to snap at her to quit hovering, almost disappointed when he doesn’t. Once the coat’s on she can see what he did to it. The left sleeve is gone, the fabric added to the rest of the coat so that it hangs more like a half-cape to protect the dummy arm. He lets her do up the top three buttons and smiles at her wordlessly.

This is a bad idea. No stopping it now, though.

“Winry,” Granny says, “Go with him, will you? Try and keep him from doing something stupid.”

“Right.”

It’s a long walk into town proper. By the time they get there Ed’s white-faced and breathing shallowly, and only nods when Winry offers to run into the general store. Someone should be there who will know where along the river Al fell in.

She finds Mr. Ragsdale just outside, a gangly middle-aged man who always smells like sheep no matter how much of Mrs. Karlson’s fancy soaps he uses. He sobers when she catches his attention, the other man he was talking to trotting off into the storm. He crouches slightly to speak without shouting over the hard rattle and patter of rain on the general store’s wooden porch.

“There’s some dozen or so folk out there trying to find a trace of him,” he tells her. “That armor of his must’ve fallen to pieces with how rough the current’s gotten. There’s no telling how far down he’s all gone.”

It’s Resembool’s worst-kept secret, what Ed and Al did. Only Winry and Granny know the full details— and Winry never saw whatever it was they made in their basement, only knows the ashen horror that painted new lines in Granny’s face that never left— but there was no way to hide the truth in such a close-knit village. Al stomping around in the armor, Ed missing two limbs— three now, it’s three now, and soon maybe another, oh Al, please be alive, please—

She takes a shaky breath, paws rain from her eyes, keeps pace with Mr. Ragsdale’s longer strides.

The only alchemists in Resembool are Ed and Al, and before that their dad, wherever he’d gone off to. No one has the knowledge to look at their crippled bodies and think taboo, but everyone’s heard horror stories about alchemy experiments gone bad. Rebounds, destroying buildings and shredding people to pieces. No one’s ever asked Winry what the boys tried to do; maybe no one wants to know.

As for Ed’s left arm, he’s stuck to the official story Mr. Mustang had spun about a car accident in East City. Everyone in town had shook their heads and tutted, said it was such a shame, what bad luck the Elric brothers have, to have been through so much so young.

Yeah. Bad luck.

Mr. Ragsdale hesitates when he sees Ed, leaning against an unlit house and shaking. He doesn’t look surprised to see Ed, just resigned. “Ho, Ed. Good to see you on your feet.”

“Yeah,” Ed says. “Any sign of Al?”

Six months after signing off on Edward Elric’s convalescent leave, Colonel Mustang receives a phone call from Resembol.

“Fullmetal,” he says once the operator patches the call through, and watches the head of every other person in the office swivel in his direction. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Yeah, well, I figured I owed you a status report.”

His voice is raspy, worn, perhaps lacking some of its usual ire, but he sounds healthy. He doesn’t sound like someone halfway through exhaustive and painful rehabilitation. Mustang huffs. The idiot owes him a whole lot more than a phone call for not court martialing him into a lifelong imprisonment. “Oh? Good news, I hope.”

Edward chuckles. “Afraid not. I ran into a minor complication with my rehabilitation. I don’t think it’s any big deal, but I’m not dumb enough to try and tell a couple of lifelong gearheads how to do their job.”

“What happened?”

“Ah, I couldn’t tell ya for sure. Automail surgery is complex stuff. I’ve never been able to wrap my head around it. I mean, the first two ports went on more or less okay, so you think the third one would too, right? Show’s what I know, though.”

“It isn’t serious, is it?”

“Nah, I’ll be just fine. It might take me an extra month to report back though, two tops.”

“Take all the time you need. You’re in the middle of an extensive rehabilitation, after all.”

“Eh, it’s nothing I’m not used to.” His tone is dismissive, but there’s a slight tremor to his voice, a weakness Edward would never admit to. It’s not enough to comment on, but Mustang’s imagination fills in what Edward refuses to say. Torn muscle and broken ribs, infection and fever, leaking stitches and black-edged burns. Any number of things can go wrong with such dangerous surgery. “Still, at this rate I think I’m gonna miss my assessment. I’m not sure what to do about that.”

“It shouldn’t be any trouble, considering your condition.” His mouth twists, the unspoken lie like ash on his tongue. “I’ll submit a waiver on your behalf. You’ll have to worry about it once you’re back on active duty again, but for the time being you can focus on your recovery.”

“That’s suspiciously charitable of you,” Edward says, wary. “I kinda expected you to be hounding me for monthly status reports until I came back.”

Mustang sighs, hides his face in his free hand. The rough fabric of his ignition glove rasps against his eyelids. “...You lost an arm. It would be cruel of me to expect anything more from you.”

“...Right.”

Mustang sighs, dropping his hand. His team is still listening attentively, though they’re at least trying to be discrete about it. “Is there anything else?”

“I… yeah, actually. If you see Alphonse around, you mind letting me know?”

“Alphonse?” He echoes, surprised. “He left?”

Edward makes a noncommittal noise, a grumble that lacks teeth. “I pissed him off, and he decided to do some research on his own. I don’t blame him, ‘cuz I’m wasting valuable time here recuperating, but I’m worried about him.”

“I think a capable alchemist in an eight-foot tall suit of armor can handle a little research—”

“You KNOW what I mean, Colonel!” Edward snarls, and the anger in his voice is—not a surprise, no. Anger is Edward’s knee jerk reaction, or at least an emotion he has the easiest time showing. Mustang had expected a retort, but not one with so much venom. Edward’s breath catches, a sharp inhale hissed through his teeth.

“Fullmetal?”

“...I’m fine.” He almost sounds it too, but that tremor in his voice is stronger than he can stifle. “It’s just…. Al can be as reckless as me when he gets an idea in his head. He’s not invulnerable. I’m his big brother. It’s my job, to make sure he’s okay.”

A job that’s taken both of his arms from him, and Edward made it explicitly clear before he left for Resembol how much more he’s willing to give to keep Alphonse tethered to that armor.

Not for the first time, Mustang’s imagination gets the better of him. He pictures a boy more automail than flesh before his eighteenth birthday, blind and deaf, perhaps mute as well. Stolidly painting the blood seal anew with an unfeeling finger, forced to rely on past experience rather than sight or touch to know he’s done it right. Willing to trade every spare part of himself to bring his brother’s soul back again and again, loss calculated down to the number of ribs he can afford to replace with steel struts. Organs, too. Who even needs two kidneys? Two lungs? Halve the liver, two or three meters of the small intestine. The skin is an organ too, and he’d have plenty to spare on his torso. Fractioning himself away, leaving Alphonse to do the legwork when his piecemeal body can no longer support the metal that’s left of him.

Fullmetal. What a cruel sense of humor the Fuhrer had.

Mustang shudders, hunched behind his broad desk stacked with paperwork that seems so meaningless compared to Edward’s dedication, compared to Edward’s sacrifice. Lieutenant Hawkeye and the others have given up any pretense of busywork, watching him with furrowed brows and grim mouths.

This isn’t sustainable. This isn’t sane.

...But it isn’t his place to say as much. He’s Fullmetal’s superior officer, not his guardian. So long as Fullmetal is physically fit for duty, there’s nothing for it. Suggesting a psychological evaluation, suggesting that something beyond bad luck and an overactive willingness to throw himself into danger to protect others might be behind Fullmetal’s two— and soon to be three— prosthetics, would condemn them both.

“Colonel?”

He’s gone too long without answering. “I understand,” he says, mustering as even a tone as he can. “I’ll keep an eye out for him. In the meantime don’t overdo it, and I expect a status report on your recovery next month.”

“Augh, seriously?”

“It was your idea.”

“Me and my big mouth. Fine, fine, you’ll get your report. Just make sure you let me know first thing if you hear from Alphonse, okay?”

“Of course.”

“All right, thanks. I—” A muffled voice on his end interrupts him, too indistinct to make any words out. “Ah, okay, Granny. Look Colonel, I gotta go.” The line clicks dead before Mustang can reply.

When he hangs up the receiver, the silence in the office is like a physical weight pressed to his chest and bowing his shoulders. All of his subordinates are sat stiffly at their desks, waiting.

Lieutenant Breda is the first to speak.

“How’s the Boss doin’?” He asks, hesitant. Mustang knits his fingers together, rests his hands on desk to steady himself. He’s careful not to rub the fabric too roughly, leery of making any sparks. With his focus a scattered mess now, it would be all too easy to accidentally start a fire.

“More or less as well as can be expected,” he replies. “He called to inform me of a delay to his estimated return date. It seems he’s run into a minor setback with his outfitting.”

Sergeant Fuery leans forward, alarm in his expression. “Did he say what went wrong?”

Mustang can’t help but smile wryly at that. “Does he ever?”

“How long does he expect to be delayed?” Lieutenant Hawkeye asks.

“A month, two at the most.”

Warrant Officer Falman shakes his head, disbelieving. “I can’t believe how tenacious Edward is.”

“You’ve met him, right?” Lieutenant Havoc asks, laughing.

“No, I know. I just meant how incredible it is how quickly he intends to return to active duty after being outfitted with a new automail arm.”

“What d’you mean?” Breda asks.

Falman shifts nervously when he realizes the whole office has their eyes on him. “Ah, well. When I first heard about his automail I was curious, so I did some reading on the topic.” Mustang stifles a smile at that; Falman’s curiosity paired with his near-perfect photographic memory are both excellent qualities in a soldier. He’s saved untold hours of work. “There’s a good reason it’s still pretty rare to see automail in the military, and even then it’s usually people who were outfitted before they joined. The average rehabilitation time for a full arm replacement is two years, and that's for an adult. He's going to be [unfinished]”

Havoc stubs out the butt of his cigarette and draws a new one out of the crumpled packet on his desk. “If he says he can do it in a year, he’ll do it in a year. He’d know best, right? Since he’s already been through this before.”

“And that was an arm and a leg,” Fuery adds. “Not just an arm like it is now.”

“Almost surprised he’s not tryin’ to come back in half the time,” Breda says. “The Boss doesn’t know how to sit down and take it easy though. Guess he must be having a harder time of it than he’d ever let on, huh?”

Mustang hums, picking up his pen again. That’s certainly Fullmetal’s way, to play things close to his chest, to shoulder his burdens so no one else can be bothered by them. It’s a surprising display of maturity, for a boy only 14 years old.

Only 14 years old, and he’s lost— traded away— three of his limbs.

“Colonel?” Hawkeye’s tone is all calm, professional interest. “You’re certain Edward is all right?”

Of course. She was there, when Fullmetal committed the taboo in the hospital parking lot. She saw his arm peel away in a burst of alchemical light, saw the blood and heard his screams firsthand. In six months she’s never yet said as much to him, but Mustang doesn’t doubt that she blames herself, for not realizing what Fullmetal intended to do to bring Alphonse back again.

“He’ll be causing trouble again in no time,” Mustang replies. That, at least, is a certainty.

Two days later Alphonse arrives at Eastern HQ. Without Fullmetal he isn't allowed access to the base, so the gate guards call Colonel Mustang’s office and Sergeant Fuery offers to sign him in. When they both enter the office there’s a chorus of greetings; despite his intimidating appearance Alphonse has endeared himself to the soldiers with his soft-spoken insight and razor intelligence. Those long debriefings Fullmetal had with the brass gave the younger Elric plenty of opportunities to rub elbows with enlisted and commissioned alike.

Alphonse shuffles by the doorway, embarrassed enough to duck his helmet sheepishly. “Ah, thank you, everyone. It's good to see you all again.”

“It’s been too quiet around here without you and your brother raising hell every couple of weeks!” Havoc says, and he and Breda laugh loudly.

“Oh, yeah. I guess it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” Alphonse clasps his hands at his waist, looking across the office to meet Mustang’s eyes.

“What brings you to HQ?” Falman asks.

“I’m not staying long. I know it isn’t really right for me to be here without Ed—” His voice catches, his hands wringing. Mustang frowns. Something isn’t right.

“You’ll always be welcome here,” Hawkeye says, reaching out to pat his arm.

“I— thank you, but—” He pulls away, his backplate bumping against the closed door. “—I just wanted to make sure you all knew about Brother, before I left.”

“He called,” Mustang says from his desk, and doesn’t miss the way Alphonse’s pauldrons jerk in surprise. “Just the other day.”

“He did? Really?” At his nod Alphonse hesitates, helmet spanning the room again. “...I see. Then I owe you all another apology.”

“An apology?” Fuery echoes. “What for?”

His helmet ducks again, his spiked pauldrons hunching as his leather hands fall to his sides. “It’s my fault,” Alphonse whispers, his child’s voice cracking. “It was all my fault. I was stupid, I was careless, if I’d just paid better attention it wouldn’t have happened and Brother wouldn’t— he wouldn’t—”

“Alphonse,” Mustang calls out sharply, and the boy flinches, falling silent. He gets to his feet and closes the distance between them, his subordinates parting uncertainly to let him through. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

The pale lights in Alphonse’s helmet flicker. “...What did he tell you?”

A chill runs through Mustang, a cold dread ghosted down his skin. No. Let him be wrong. Let him be wrong. “Fullmetal said there had been some complication with his port,” he replies slowly. “He informed me that his estimated return date would need to be pushed back two months.”

“Two—!” Alphonse breaks off, his gloves tightly fisted. “Of course he didn’t tell you. That idiot!”

Mustang’s throat is dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, his lips reluctant to part. Let him be wrong. “What happened.”

Alphonse’s anger bleeds away as quickly as it had come. His voice is barely more than a whisper; dull, without inflection. “There… there was a flood. The spring thaws are always bad, but this year was worse. Half the village might have gotten washed away if I hadn’t gone to help. It shouldn’t have been any trouble, but I— I lost my footing. It’s hard, sometimes, to tell where I am. To be sure of my footing. I fell into the river, and got pulled under. The last thing I remember is being dragged across the river bottom, before my blood seal…”

He shudders, his overlapping plates clanking. “It was almost two weeks before they found my armor. Brother, he— he didn’t hesitate. He pulled me back again.”

Again.

There is a long, awful silence. The gravity of Alphonse’s hushed account sinking in, horror growing on everyone’s faces. Breda, Havoc, Fuery, Falman, and Hawkeye have all known the Elrics for years. They’ve known the truth behind Fullmetal’s automail and Alphonse’s armor. They’ve all grown to care for the boys, in their own ways. Every one of them had been stricken six months ago, when they’d seen what Fullmetal had done to himself to save Alphonse. And here they’re gathered, hearing it all over again.

“What….” Hawkeye swallows, looking away. “What was taken from him?”

The lights in Alphonse’s helmet have all but gone out. “...His leg. It took his leg.”

13 months after he’d walked out of Mustang’s office with a bandaged stump where his left arm had been, Fullmetal returns.

The worst part is, at first glance Mustang can’t tell anything’s different.

Fullmetal strides in like he owns the place, hands in his pockets, a bored expression like he’s already itching to stride right out again. He’s grown, a little taller and a little filled out. There’s a maturity to his face, a strength to his jaw and a new focus to his eyes. When he turns to shut the office door Mustang catches a glimpse of his braid stretching halfway down his back. Red coat, black jacket and pants, white gloves. It’s almost like nothing’s changed at all.

“Miss me?” Fullmetal asks, grinning [unfinished]

“He's trying to protect you from your own fanaticism!”

(Phone rings, Mustang makes to answer it, Edward smashes it. On his way out pauses to put shoes on [uh…. I think I was going to have Mustang demand Ed to show his feet when he tried to lie about the leg? I honestly don’t remember.]

“Fullmetal! Fix my phone!”

Derisive, “Are you an alchemist or not? Fix it yourself.”)

[super roughed here. Was going to have Ed bail East City pretty quick, try poking around Central for any sign of Al before resigning himself to Izumi’s fury in the hopes he’d find Al there. Imagine his surprise when she knows what the automail means, whoops.]

When Izumi kicks his ass across the yard she notes something is off at once. Edward's too heavy for his size, the thud of his limbs against the dirt too pronounced. She flips him again for good measure, feels how unyielding his arm is in her hands. Assumes two limbs are prosthetic, furious he was foolish enough to be hurt so badly since the last time she saw him. Transmutes a spear and demands he defends himself. Short one-sided fight as Edward doesn't want to spar against her, ends up blocking a slice with one arm, she sweeps his feet out from under him and puts the blade to his neck.

“How shameful! And where's your brother? Is he in as sorry a state as you?”

��I don't know! He ran off six months ago! I was hoping he'd be here.”

“I haven't seen him.”

“Damn it!”

Claps his hands, transmutes a blade and cuts her spear. Of course she knows what that means. “Idiot boy! Do you have even one limb left to call your own!”

On his knees he flinches. “No!”

“...That thing took so much from you?”

He realizes she's done it too. Bows his head, unable to meet her eyes. “No. The first time, it only took one of my legs.”

#fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #my writing #deadfic

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cherrycocaineee · 3 years ago

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9. Edward Elric - Old Friends

Soft glowing rays of sunlight slipped through the curtains, touching my cool, pale skin. From downstairs, I could smell the incredible scent of Pinako’s cooking coming from beneath the door as my eyes opened. Winry’s footsteps echoed throughout the hall, each echo getting closer and closer. Within seconds, she was at my door knocking on it then barging in. “Hinata!” She chirped, happily, “it’s time to wake up!” I pulled my body into the upright position, swinging my legs off my bed and touching the freezing wood with my bare feet. Softly rubbing my eyes, I listened to Winry tell me that she was going to be busy for a while and that there would be visitors coming later today. Normally Pinako and Winry told me who would be stopping by but recently, they’ve been keeping that a secret. I wasn’t sure if to surprise me, not that I had anyone to see anymore, or because they didn’t want me to worry about it. Either or, it was annoying because I didn’t like being kept in the dark. Plus, things between us were already weird for me, I didn’t want it to be weirder. “Are you even listening, Hinata?” Winry’s voice whined. I blinked several times, the spots in my eye floating away, before looking at her, “of course, Winry.” The two of us smiled at each other before she left to give me some privacy while I changed. After my shower, I dried and brushed out my long black hair, noticing that it almost reached my butt, then added some chapstick to my pink lips watching myself in the mirror with my grass green eyes. Next, I threw on some fresh clothing; nothing too special, just a light purple, short sleeve, cropped shirt and some black leggings that went to my knees. As I came down the stairs, I could hear Winry and Pinako speaking to one another while Winry was setting the table for breakfast. “It’s definitely been a long time, huh?” Winry asked, almost dreamily. “It sure has,” Pinako whispered, “seeing both of them again.” “Are you sure it’s a good idea to hide this from Hinata?” “Her and Ed didn’t exactly leave on good terms. I don’t want to stress her out with a visit from him so suddenly. Maybe the sudden visit will prompt the two of them to remember how good of friends they were.” “Ed sure has changed a lot, and so has Hinata.” I walked into the kitchen and looked at them. Pinako and Winry greeted me with a warm smile which I returned, despite finding out that they were keeping Edward Elric’s appearance a secret from me. Like Pinako said, Ed and I didn’t leave on good terms. It was complicated really, we were so young that I don’t even think it would be something he would even remember. I wanted to go with him and Alphonse, to train alongside them as Alchemist and help them get their bodies back, however, Ed had told me that I was weak. That there wasn’t anything I could bring to the table, unlike Winry since she was both raised by doctors and completely into automail. The whole argument hurt my feelings and we ended up never speaking again. After Ed and Al left to join the military, I left too, telling Pinako that there was no point in me sticking around since I was useless anyways. Though she tried to talk me out of it, I left anyway. While travelling, I met an old man named Haru who was incredible when it came to hand-to-hand combat and possessed strong Alchemy. After some begging, Haru eventually took me in and trained me before he passed away. I now had two transmutation circles carved into both my wrists allowing me to use ice and fire alchemy, as well as me being able to do hand-to-hand combat. However, even to this day, Ed’s words whispered to me in the back of my head. “She’s doing it again,” Winry sighed, dragging me out of my head, “honestly, Hinata, you zone out way too often.” I giggled softly, “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about Edward and Alphonse returning home.” Both their eyes widened as I shoveled a mouth full of porridge into my mouth. Once I swallowed, I addressed their confusion. “I overheard the two of you talking when I was coming downstairs.” “You were eavesdropping,” Pinako grumbled, shaking her head while chuckling. A sweat drop appeared on my forehead as I laughed nervously, wondering how she always knew. The three of us continued eating breakfast while enjoying some small talk about nothing really. Winry, of course, was speaking about upgrading her automail techniques to make stronger limbs. I’ve seen a lot of her sketches and believe wholeheartedly that she would definitely be able to do something like that once she put her mind into it. When breakfast was over, I started cleaning up the dishes for Pinako so she could relax. Winry was up in her room working. Time passed slowly as I cleaned up, glancing at the clock each minute, before there was barking coming from outside where Pinako and Den sat. I could feel my chest tighten as I heard Winry bouncing down the steps to greet both the Elric brothers, picturing a wrench in her hand as she hit Ed upside the head. Something I had learned from Pinako that she started doing when they visited. I picked up the red and white checkered kitchen towel to dry my hands, not taking my eyes off the freshly wiped down table. From inside the kitchen, I could hear them speaking and even heard another voice I didn’t recognize. For some reason, I started to feel drained. Thinking I could make it to my room undetected, I moved quickly. Winry, on the other hand, had different plans. Quickly running inside before I reached the steps and snatching up my hand, dragging me outside despite my extreme protest to just go to my room. All of my nerves were shot and I started to feel sick to my stomach, yet Winry kept dragging me out to meet the brothers. Bright rays of sunlight assaulted my eyes as I felt my feet touch the porch. Winry called out to Ed and Al as the spots in my eyes faded away. I was greeted with the sight of Pinako, Den, Al, who was still in his armor, Ed, who wasn’t wearing his automail arm prompting his sudden visit, and a muscular male that I didn’t recognize. “Ed! Al!” Winry sang, “look who else is here! It’s Hinata!” She had let go of my arm and I saw Ed smile wide. Even Al seemed excited, which I could only tell by him calling for me cheerfully. They both ran towards me, my heart racing as they got closer. Before they could get even closer, I slammed my hands together and touched the ground, shards of ice crystallizing and stopping in front of them making them halt abruptly. Winry and Ed’s eyes widened, but I only turned away and went to my room, locking the door behind me and sliding down. My knees pressed against my chest as I started hearing Ed’s words play over and over in my head. My earlier assumption was correct: Ed didn’t remember the hurtful things he said to me. Hot tears poured from my eyes while I sobbed quietly into my hands.

Hours passed and the sun was now sitting over the house creating the afternoon heat I was so use to. I had finally stopped crying, tear streaks stained my flushed cheeks, but still remained in front of the door. I hadn’t realized how out of it I was until I heard a quiet tap on the door, noticing that I hadn’t even heard the footsteps approaching. My breath hitched in my throat as I listened. “Hinata,” Al said, his voice quiet and sweet, “it’s Alphonse. Can I come in?” Al and I have always gotten along, and even during my fight with his brother, he defended me. Slowly, I climbed to my feet and turned the doorknob, the soft breeze from the hall running into my room as I opened the door. Al stood there with a plate in his hand, the plate holding a single slice of apple pie with a dollop of whipped cream on top just how I liked it. Opening the door wider, I stepped to the side and he came in. The cinnamon aroma piggybacking onto the breeze and entering my nose making my mouth water. With Al inside, I closed the door and sat back down in front of it, him joining me. “Granny said to give this to you,” he finally said, “thought it might make you feel better.” “Thank you,” I whispered, taking the plate in my hands, feeling the heat radiating off the bottom. We were quiet for a moment, but it wasn’t an awkward silence, it was comforting. I decided to ask him about the man I had seen earlier. “Who was that other guy with you?” I asked, turning my green eyes to meet his glowing pink sockets. “Oh, that’s Major Armstrong,” he answered, “Ed kind of works with him.” “You don’t?” “Not as a state alchemist. I couldn’t become one because they had to do a physical, but you know.” The physical would reveal that Al wasn’t exactly 100% Al, just a soul bound to a suit of armor. Nodding my head, I turned my attention back to the melting cream on the apple pie. Setting it on the ground, I wrapped my arms around my legs. “You’re still mad at Ed, huh?” Al asked. “I’m not mad,” I said, shaking my head, “but I’m not going to pretend it never happened either.” “Are you going to speak to Ed about it?” “How? We both know Ed isn’t one to sit and talk about something, he’s not in tune with female emotions.” “Brother’s changed a whole lot since the last time you’ve seen him. If anything, he’s become quite emotional as well.” A soft laugh erupted from Al’s metal suit making me smile. For a while Al and I conversated with one another. Him telling me stories of their travels, the search for the philosopher stone, and more; then I told him about Haku and my training, explaining how I learned Alchemy and the different Alchemy I could do. Though eventually he had to go downstairs to see Pinako and Winry, telling me to come join them when I was ready. When he was gone, I sat on my bed with the pie before eating it. My mind was racing with different ideas of what to do. Should I go out there and see Ed, talk to him about the things he said to me or do I just sit in my room until he leaves? I stared at the empty plate in my hand. “Guess I’ve got to go down there anyway.” Putting on my slippers, I walked out of my room and headed to the kitchen. All except for Ed, who was standing, were sitting around the table. Den was holding a bouquet of white flowers in his mouth and I knew that Ed was heading to his mother’s grave. When I walked in, everyone looked at me. I placed my plate in the sink. “Hinata,” Pinako called, “come over here and meet Major Armstrong.” Deciding it was better not to argue, I walked over to everyone. Major Armstrong held out his hand, a bright smile appeared on his face. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Hinata,” he said, “I’m Alex Louis Armstrong.” “It’s nice to meet you as well, Major,” I greeted kindly. I decided to join them, even if I didn’t talk. Just seemed like the right thing to do. Soon though, Ed was leaving to go to the graveyard. Waving goodbye, he headed for the kitchen door before stopping suddenly, his gloved hand releasing the door as he turned towards me. “Hinata, why don’t you come with me?” He asked, a small, hopeful smile on his face. “O-okay,” I said, standing up and following him out the house, Den following close behind. Even though I wasn’t looking at them, I could feel the others smiling in satisfaction. Ed opened the door for me and we started off towards his mother’s tombstone. It would be a lengthy walk and because neither of us were talking to one another, it was quiet too. Like this morning, the time seemed to pass at a snail's pace. I noticed that Ed was stealing glances at me the entire time, fiddling with the hem of his red coat sleeve. I raised my eyebrow curiously before turning to face him completely. His cheeks flared up, turning a light pink. “How long are you going to be here for?” I finally broke our silence because it was becoming too awkward. “Winry said my automail should be fixed in three day,” he stated, “so I assume in three days.” “You aren’t going to stay longer?” “I can’t. Al and I are still…” “Searching for the philosopher stone, I know.” I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was disappointed, part of me was hoping that Ed and Al would stay a little while longer. I’d missed them, despite us leaving on bad terms. “You know,” Ed continued, “when I told Winry and Granny that I was coming home, I was kind of hoping you’d be here. The last few times I’d come, you hadn’t been. They said you left after that day.” I nodded, “I did. I didn’t want to be a burden on Pinako and Winry like I was on you.” As the words left my lips, I stared at the gravel beneath my feet. I hadn’t noticed that Ed had stopped walking until he grabbed my arm making me face him. Hot wind caught in both our hairs, brushing my own locks against my face. “I never thought of you as a burden.” “Considering the other things you said to me before you left, I didn’t think you needed to.” “Hinata, I shouldn’t have said those things and I should have apologized a lot sooner.” I just stared at him, unsure of what to do or even say. Instead, I just retracted my hand and looked away. Soon the two of us continued walking towards his mom’s grave, making small talk. When we got to the tombstone, I read Trisha Elric’s name on the large stone head piece. Trisha and I hadn’t known each other, she passed before I had the chance to meet her, and honestly, it made me sad because the way everyone spoke about her made her seem like she was the most amazing woman ever. Ed kneeled down and removed the old crumbling flowers from the grave, and replaced them with the fresh ones that Den had carried all the way here. I knew Ed wasn’t religious, so I wasn’t expecting him to pray, so I went ahead and did so silently. It just felt like the right thing to do. As I was finishing up my prayer, I heard Ed sniffle causing me to open my eyes and look at him. “Do you know why I said those things to you, Hinata?” He inquired, his voice low and quiet. I just watched him, the only thing I could even think to do. Ed only stood up, not wanting to face me and let me see the tears streaming against his face. I felt a small lump form in my throat as Ed started speaking again, answering his own question since I was unable to. “I know it was harsh, I know that when I said it there was a possibility that you would never forgive me afterwards. But I couldn’t lose you too.” “What do you mean?” I croaked, ready to let tears spill from my own eyes once more. “I already lost my mom,” he whispered, choking back his sobs, “I lost Al when we decided to dude that stupid human transmutation. If I’d taken you with me, I was afraid I’d lose you. All the things I’ve seen so far in the last few years, they’re dangerous. I’ve almost been killed several times and I didn’t want you to get hurt. So when I showed up here and you thought I’d just forgotten, I didn’t. I had just hoped that you’d understand once you saw me that it was dangerous.” I had seen him. He was missing half of his metal arm when he had arrived, and he was covered in bruises and scratches. Of course, even before he and Al left, I knew it was going to be dangerous. If I was being completely honest, I didn’t even want them to go, afraid that one day Pinako, Winry, and I would get the word that Edward and Alphonse were no longer with us. That I had lost two of my bestest friends. Taking a deep breath, I walked over to Ed and placed my hand on his shoulder. “Well, I don’t need to be protected anymore,” I muttered, “even though your words hurt me a lot, and even though I’m still having a hard time getting them out of my head, they’ve helped me a lot. With those words, I was able to find my way to Haru and was trained. I’m more than capable of protecting myself now.” “If you’re going to ask to come along now, my an-” “I’m not asking your permission, Ed,” I snapped, annoyed, “I’m going. Obviously you and Al need my help. After all, six eyes are better than four.” Ed and I looked at one another, my hand sliding off of his shoulder as I smiled up at him. He was a bit taller than me, something he always appreciated. Ed wiped away his stray tears then returned my smile. “You’ve definitely gotten bolder than when we were kids.” “And you’ve definitely become much more intune with your emotions.” The two of us shared a laugh before heading home. All the way home, Ed and I laughed and chatted up about things that have happened to them as they were gone. He told me about all the colorful characters in his life, including who he called a “pain in his ass”: Roy Mustang. When Ed and I got back to Pinako’s home, everyone was standing outside even Winry who had just moved her work outdoors. Den barked and took off running towards Pinako. Ed smiled wide before taking off towards our friends and family. I stopped in my tracks, staring at the sight before me, noticing all of them at once. Though I didn’t know Major Armstrong very well, just talking to him for a few minutes made me feel nice. And as I watched them, I smiled to myself. This was nice. Being around all these people. It felt nice to not be alone anymore.

#fma #fma fanfiction #fanfiction #edward elric #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #edward elric fanfiction #elric brothers #fmab fanfiction #winry rockbell #fluff #imagine #Anime / Manga #fmab imagines #edward imagines #pinako rockbell #major armstrong #roy mustang #central command

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lotusthekat · 4 years ago

Text

Sound and Color (With Me, For My Mind)

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Rating: T

Relationships: Alphonse & Edward

Characters: Alphonse Elric, Edward Elric

Summary: Sometimes, Al needs to remember that he’s there.

Word count: 1.226

AO3

A/N: My fourth FMA fic already?? And with these brothers??? Fuck yeah!!

But this is really just me half venting, half wanting to see more Al-centric stuff in this fandom - so this is far from original, lmao. I hope you like it!

TRIGGER WARNINGS - dissociation*, implied past death, references to depression and fear of death.

*I don’t particularly struggle with dissociation (as far as I know), so I hope this is accurate and respectful to those who do.

With each step heavy and somehow nothing, Al moves to the kitchen as if in a haze.

Even though Al knows he’s there, there’s also… nothing. The day has probably passed by and he hasn’t even felt it. He’s automatic; he woke up and… did something outside. He can’t remember now what it was.

Al is guided only by what sounds to be noises in the kitchen, and the distinct metal sound of Den’s right paw patting in the wooden ground. It’s only then he acknowledges the dog playfully going to the kitchen to explore inside.

And it’s also then that he finds the source of all the noise, which is surprisingly not all that loud today.

The haze feels less blinding when he sees his brother. His main guidance and what he also fought to protect. The last remaining of hope he had since Mom had passed away. Even inside an armor, his love for Ed was real and what he wanted the most to touch again.

Ed looks so different, though. Well, he’s still short – as is his temper –, and… his automail still replaces his right arm, Al remembers. But Ed has never looked so happy and peaceful before. He looks so… homey, no longer wearing that exaggerated red coat and boots, and instead of creating giant walls and awful-looking weapons, Ed is cooking something. Is it… stew?

Ed smiles, even if for half a second. Because then he’s worried. And he drops the wooden spoon, Den immediately coming after it.

“What’s wrong, brother?” Al manages to ask out of the haze.

“Wh-?! You’re soaking wet, you idiot!” Ed exclaims in disbelief.

“… oh,” so, that’s what it was. “Sorry.”

Before Ed goes on with the scolding – because this is really far from the first time Al has gone out without a coat or an umbrella, which always drives his brother nuts –, the room grows silent again. Ed’s annoyance fades within a minute, softening in quiet understanding.

“Where… Where were you all this time?” Ed asks him, rather patiently.

The younger boy struggles to remember, only it comes to him.

Rain. Rain. Rain.

The endless crying from above. The crying that he could not let out; and not in front of his brother or anyone else. The loneliness, the wandering in years of lost hope.

Seeing the sweetness in Ed’s eyes clicks it in for Al. Only one place he could have gone to.

Al is lowering his head, noticing the mud in his knees, the remainings of grass and dead flowers now clear to him.

"I wish you were here. Both of you", Al whispered to the two graves.

"I don’t want to be alone."

Although he doesn’t say a word, he can tell his brother finds the answer as the silence in the room seems heavier.

Outside, the sky’s cries are stronger. They subtly shake the house. Al doesn’t know how he feels that, when he’s far from feeling there at all.

The clouds cry for him. They’ve always cried, when Al couldn’t sleep. They’ve never left, haven’t they?

Al listens.

Ed breathes in.

“Al…”

Whatever he wanted to say, it disappears with the rain. Al hears it, anyway.

He clenches his jaw.

Al takes one step forward, and almost falls.

Falls to the nothing.

Nothing. Nothing.

But something gets ahold of him.

A voice…

Is it Truth? To take him away for good?

…

… Al!

Alphonse !

Al smells the stew. He smells home and the rain, and the metal that replaces his brother’s limbs to this day.

Warm. It’s all so warm.

Even soaking wet, he latches onto the warmth. Of course, he doesn’t want to ruin it. He doesn’t want to wet it and steal the heat for himself. But Al is…

God, he’s terrified.

“I don’t want…” he gulps.

There’s a thunder outside.

“I don’t want to go,” he whispers, so quietly no one might hear it. His voice is beyond hoarse from the rain.

Immediately after, Al is squeezed tight, even if he’s a soaked mess.

“You’re not going anywhere,” someone else answers, a warm surface touching his forehead. “You’re here, Al. You’re home.”

Al trembles.

“But I don’t”— he hiccups —“I don’t feel real, Ed.”

His brother stills. Al trembles harder.

“I’m still trapped,” he says, “I-It’s like… I’m losing myself every single day. And then I’ll be gone. There’ll be nothing left.” Al buries himself in the beating warmth that he holds onto. It beats, beats, beats. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Y-You won’t.”

“But I did once. I did, and I was- I’m still conscious and I hate that I can’t feel anything. It hurts, and I don’t want to, anymore. But I don’t want to go, brother,” Al sobs.

“Al. Al.” He’s squeezed between the fragile metal and human flesh; both so very alive to him, despite the differences. “Listen to me. You’re not going away. I’m not letting that happen ever again.”

“B-But I am, brother! I’m going to die!”

“You won’t. You can trust me. You know that, right?” Ed inquires.

Al doesn’t protest, because he does believe him. Ed would never lie about this, even if he’s kept a lot of things to himself. When it comes to Al, he’s always clear with him.

“You’re real, Al. I can feel you,” Ed tells him. “You’re soaking wet and trembling like ice – and I’ll let you know you’re going to the shower immediately after this –, and your heart is beating hard against mine. Your heart is so strong, Al. Just like you.” Al feels something solid like metal supporting his back, and it’s far from uncomfortable. “The fact I’m even able to hold you right now is the most real I’ve felt in so long.”

Ed’s voice is the softest and rawest Al has heard in his life. Raw and real, and aching like the rain outside.

“Ed…” Al whimpers, “I’m scared.”

His brother kisses his forehead, despite Al’s wet bangs plastered on it. “I know.”

“I still feel so lost. Like I’m in that walking shell. What if I’m still there? What if…” Al sniffs. “What if I never leave the armor at all, Ed?”

It makes no sense, he knows. But what Al feels is true. He’s not sure if Ed might understand it.

“Then I’ll help you get out, Al. No matter how much time it takes,” his older brother assures. “I won’t give up on you.”

Despite the mess that he is right now, Al is able to breathe again.

Eventually, Ed helps Al get on his feet and, next thing he knows, Al is inside the bathroom, hot water embracing him. The moment he’s done, he’s immediately buried in maybe two sweaters that Granny and Winry got him back when it snowed in Resembool. Besides yet another blanket Ed grabbed from the couch.

“You’re such a worrywart, Ed,” Al teases him, much to Ed’s displeasure.

“Oh, now you’re sassing me? You brat.” His tone immediately changes, “You’re warm now, right? Do you need another blanket?”

“I’m fine, brother. Maybe you should check on the stew.”

Ed’s eyes widen, and Al suddenly takes note of a very strong smell.

“… oh, shit!” His brother runs the fastest mankind could ever run, and despite the loss of stew, Al can’t hold back a giggle.

#fullmetal alchemist #alphonse elric #edward elric #fanfiction #long post #death mention tw #dissociation tw

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presumenothing · 5 years ago

Text

not a happy fic. consider yourself warned

It doesn’t even start until after they arrive in Resembool. That’s the real kicker.

If Ed had known this was coming, maybe he wouldn’t even have come back at all. Or probably he would still have caved under Al’s mournful looks (unfair how his brother doesn’t even need puppy eyes to cheat) but at least he would’ve been bloody prepared.

As it is, the first time it happens is enough to make him almost stumble, the vicious stab of a headache a wash of black-then-red behind his eyes.

When his vision clears he sees Al looking over in concern, even though Ed is quite sure he didn’t make a single sound.

“Brother? You okay?” Al’s hands are paused over the kitchen counter, halfway through making the third mug of hot cocoa. (Ed had called dibs on the first, Winry had claimed the second on the way back to the workshop, and Pinako’s dead and departed tastebuds only accept coffee dark enough to be indistinguishable from motor oil.)

“Just a spasm,” Ed says, waving it off, and at least the way his fingers have tightened reflexively on his own mug only makes it more convincing. “Stop worrying about everything, Al. Or do you really want wrinkles on your face when you just got it back?”

He can tell that Al doesn’t buy it, not entirely, but not enough to question him outright either. “At least I won’t have scowl lines like you. You have been doing those exercises for your arm?”

“Duh. Having arm strength this mismatched is a bloody pain,” he retorts, and that one’s definitely true – the physical therapy isn’t exactly interesting, but Ed’s not planning to stop until he can pack a decent replacement for an automail punch. “And scowl lines aren’t even a thing.”

“Perhaps you’ll be the one to invent them, then,” Al says serenely as he turns back to his cocoa assembly line, and dammit, Ed can’t even scowl at his back without turning into a walking punchline.

ii.

Look, Ed knows that his pain tolerance is fucked up, okay. You try having two limbs disintegrated and great hunks of metal practically welded onto the nerves – either you ended up with a massively-screwed pain scale, or you’d have lost your mind by the end of it.

That’s not Ed’s particular brand of crazy, so door number one it is, and Ed’s well-aware of it.

For all the damned good knowing does, either. It’s not like he can consciously undo years of desensitisation to constant pain and other assorted nuisances, but if the question is just about knowing then boy does he ever, hooray!

(The question has occurred before to Ed: whether he can blame the always-fraying ends of his temper on the probably-true fact that anyone would be cranky if their nerves were always in a lowkey state of being fried. But even if anyone bought the excuse they’d likely spend ten minutes crying over him first – or falling eerily silent with the implication of daggers, as Hawkeye sometimes does while carefully not-admitting that Ed had said something disturbing again.

So no thanks. Besides, Al and Winry would never buy it, since they know that all the automail did to his temper was to give him metal limbs to punch and/or kick with.)

What this all boils down to is the grim possibility that he could very well be wrong about when the symptoms started; maybe Resembool had just been when it started getting noticeable.

By his standards.

That’s hardly fucking reassuring, as Al would put it, minus the expletives. As if sudden head-splitting migraines without any apparent cause could ever be good news in any way.

And clearly Truth can’t be the only god that Ed’s pissed off just by continuing to exist, because it gets worse.

One morning he wakes up, and only doesn’t fall flat onto the floor because he doesn’t even try to get up. Everything feels weak – paralysis-weak, worse than even his arm had felt right after the Gate had spit it out – and Ed lies there in gasping silence until enough strength reasserts itself that he can manage stumbling out of bed with one hand against the wall.

Another afternoon he coughs so hard he doubles over, until the air feels like it’s been sucked out of the world and there’s the faintest a metallic tang at the back of his throat.

(He spends the rest of the first day treading too-lightly around the black spots flickering across his vision, and actually sits down to read for once instead of pacing within grabbing reach of the bookshelf, just so Winry or Granny won’t notice the difference and think there’s something wrong with his automail.

He spends the second one wondering if he should go back to wearing red again, just so the blood won’t show up so easily.)

iii.

The headaches are still the worst of it, though.

They’re noticeably more severe on some days than the others, and if there’s any underlying pattern he hasn’t found it yet, but this much is clear overall: so far, they’re only getting worse.

Which doesn’t necessarily mean jackshit about what’s to come. Ed’s a scientist, he knows better than to theorise on incomplete data, and yet some part of him still dreads the day when they get so bad it’ll hurt too much to open his eyes.

And just – fuck that, okay? Ed didn’t go through hell to get Al’s body back just so that a bunch of stupid misfiring nerves could stop him from drinking in the sight that is his brother.

Never mind that these days he can’t exactly look Al in the eye and say that he’s alright; Ed’s always been a shit liar when it counts.

He’s not entirely shit at planning ahead, though, and he knows that the Rockbells have always kept a supply of decent-strength painkillers around the house for the more uncomfortable procedures.

Usually he’d conclude that their clients were wimps if they needed painkillers for things not even approaching automail surgery and leave it at that – but right now what it means is that there’s a ready supply waiting for him, behind a lock that’s far too easy for him to pick even without alchemy.

And so long as he takes only one or two at a time, to save for when he might need them in the future, who’s going to notice?

(more fics here)

#edward elric #fanfiction #mine #there's at least....... one more part to this but i wanted to post this before going to z so #yeah #definitely inspired in no small part by that one fic from shanastoryteller #because i claim to be a fluff and crack writer and yet i'm a sucker for this #fmab #fma

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splendidshinobi · 4 years ago

Text

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST 2003 LIVE REACT: EPISODES 26-30

been awhile since i’ve watched but.... another day, another emotional rollercoaster

episode 26: her reason

who’s her and what’s her reason

bother him ALLLLL you want maria ross...bother him all day long

he deserves it

INVOICE HAHAHAHAHA

dont yell at maria fuck off!!!!

GIRLY WHAT IS IZUMI DOING!!!!!!!!

i screamed i did

i love sig and izumi sm!!!!!!

omg ed and al’s faces

PANINYAAAAAAA

why does she have an automail arm whAT

i feel almost insulted for paninya’s dope weapon legs

oh wait ive seen this arm wrestling scene before lmao

go paninya goooo

i do not tolerate this mr dominic slander

OH NO DO NOT INSULT QUEEN WINRY’S WORK

sucks to suck!!!!

i do think winry may have just fallen in love

ed is such a simp though

JUMBO????? his name iS JUMBO??????

al’s mousy little what?

yikes yeah you know what winry id be pissed too

she felt so good about her work!!!

crush over

jk theyre soulmates

wow roy ur so smart

damn oh ok they kept paninya’s legs too

so she only has 1 biological limb wow

paninya is definitely a lesbian

we’ve all known that though i mean-----the camo pants

i saw paninya wearing army pants and flip flops, so i bought army pants and flip flops

oh my god winry you DEVIOUS BASTARD

i can see why people ship paninya and winry but im sorry im an edwin simp

young pinako is hot i get it dominic

OH MY GOD DEVIOUS

WINRY LMAO

GUN LEGS!

kill him?? pANINYA think about that before you shoot someone!!!

AWWWWWW ED!!!! “best automail in the world!!!!” IM CRYING

“hello sir” alphonse you sweet boy

sheska u good???

OPE HEY CURTISES

ed why are you sad

omg winry dont cry!!!!

hahahaha sig

THE BOYS’ FACES LMAO

episode 27: teacher

izumi time lets gooooooooooooo

the ominous music lolololol

THE WINDOW

WHERE IS ALPHONSE

RIGHT THERE

ED’S FUCKING FACE HAHAHAHA

grumman!!!!!

STEW TONIGHT FUCK YEAH

xerxes drop

edward you are being so foreboding

izumi queen of my life lets go girl!!!

umbrella king sig curtis!!!

ed you dumbass!!!!!

angry face boys

mom dad and the kids on the train!!!! makes me cry

awww win’s gonna miss the dudes

omg havoc plzzzz

why is he calling riza like she doesnt already know shes going too

do not leave my boy falman behind!!!

oh good ok

mason my dude!!!

“yes maam”

this is UNCOMFORTABLE

guys i simp for sig tbh

omg al scary boy

uh oh she SAWWWWWWW you!!!

aww i forgot about the dead cat goddamnit

not THE KITTY

ok but those baby kittens need some MELK

its all over for you two watch out

cant hide JACK SHIT from mama bear

yikes

she gonna kick your ass oof

hugs oh thats nice

episode 28: all is one, one is all

island timeeee

wait theyre on island time PART 2???? ok

the way sig’s HAND---- anyway

ok so creepy naked child??

im suspicious

clearly the boys didnt read my hero academia

or the three musketeers

al really got YEETED

yote?

oh the kid has clothes on. leaf clothes

i know dublith is in the “south” but is it really a tropical locale?

aww the bunny

“kill it”

owie hope you dont get rabies edward

the ost man so good for both series

al really said J’ACCUSE

they didnt know the masked man was mason the first time around? aight

im really having trouble typing and eating dumplings at the same time

might pause for a dumpling break

i made these in the microwave theyre pretty good

def not the best ive had but they were, ya know, microwaved

anyways sad al hours

YOU THOUGHT THAT WAS YOUR BROTHER????

it’s the circle of life simba

getting REAL philosophical rn

“dont call me small”

now we’re getting REAL scientific

im just imagining these idiots on shrooms rn

mannnnnnnnnnnn

WAIT IMAGINE LING YAO ON SHROOMS

wow what a yummy snake breakfast

izumi said 👁 👄 👁

izumi is so hot

that is the creepiest motherfucker i ever did see

ok im gonna go rinse this dish out be back in a min!!!

episode 29: the untainted child

i am the tainted adult

you SURE his parents are lookin?

i feel like izumi is being very loving towards this child

what happened to tough love bbygirl

im not saying shes not loving in her ways but shouldnt she by nature be a litttttleeee bit more sus of this kid???

dont tell me

this is sig and izumi’s “child”

theory pending

winry is such a protective lil egg

here’s whats cookin in my head

its sig and izumi’s child and ed’s arm and leg smooshed together into a homunculus...theory still pending but im definitely right

WHY DOES SIG SLEEP W HIS EYES OPEN SIR!!!!!!!

whole situation is a mess my dudes

what did u do kid?????

“i know ed lies sometimes”

l oh fucking l

who transmutes themselves with a bed though

not the move kid

OPE

of course winry slept through this whole thing

sheska and elicia and gracia. my heart.

did the colonel just LEAVE HER BEHIND? god what a dick

sheska WENT OFFFFFFFF!!!!!!

yes maam!!!!!!!

u tell that dumbass!!!!!!

why does envy have to sit like that

gon make me SIMP

embarrassing

*debby ryan hair tuck meme*

i love the way al sits

hes so dainty

what a gent

oh that lil kid was in the gate!!!!

how a homunculus is born? please tell me more

ARCHER....my sister was texting me about him when she asked how far i was. i googled him i saw his....bod....

yup

ARM AND LEG CONFIRMED

my brain waves are unparalleled

ED REALLY JUST YEETED WINRY AND KABEDONED THE HOMUNCULUS

EDWARD STOPPPPPPPPPPPPP OMG

off goes the kid

BIDOOOOOOOOOOO <3

why is she upset??? what did you realize izumi

that its your baby??? probs

im just that smart

episode 30: assault on south headquarters

YOKI LMAO

seeing yoki and scar makes me miss mei chang

MEI CHANG SUPREMACY

yoki really about to snitch

BIDOOOOOO

everyone showing up this episode

greed is gonna roll up with a venti frappuccino any minute now

archer is a creep

is this footage from the arnold classic?

“the muscles did the talking for them”

archer is a creep

who ru calling a freak HAHA AL’s angwy voice

ope

how IS hughes doing

pls not the pain

how did this kid come into the corporeal world

armstrong what

OUROBOROS

so he’s either wrath or pride ig

i dont think bradley is a homunculus in this one

yoki is basically michael yagoobian aka the bowler hat guy

there’s greed lmao

with the ladies

EW NO PLEASE GOD

I DONT WANT ANY MORE SHOU TUCKER

KIMBLEE WHAT

WHAT THE FUCK WHO CUT HIS HAIR LIKE THAT

WHO ALLOWED THAT I AM CHOKING

NOT THE MULLET PONYTAIL

izumi taking on the military

of course

kimblee JESUS

bradley is EVERYWHERE at ALL TIMES

this is rOUGH

there are so many parties vying for the kid

i still cant get over kimblee like WHAT

WHAT IS HIS PURPOSE HERE

AGAIN it just seems like bradley is everywhere at all times

#carol watches fma03 #fullmetal alchemist #carol's remaining brain cells #hi!!!!!#back w reactz #yay

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caramelslate · 5 years ago

Text

Day 3 of Moms Made Fullmetal Week!

Prompt: Disappointment or Apologies or Grounded

AO3 link is here.

Enjoy reading!

“Ed?”

Trisha Elric hated scolding the kids. It is fortunate for her to be given two sons that are mostly well behaved. Although her older one is a bit short-tempered and would throw some tantrums every now and then. But that’s common with kids and it’s nothing she couldn’t handle. Most of the townsfolk often admire her sons for being so mild-mannered compared to other more rambunctious kids.

However, this is clearly a different scenario.

He punched another kid and broke his nose? Trisha stared at the piece of note asking her to come to school tomorrow and explaining the reason why.

Ed couldn’t do that. Well, he easily gets angry, especially when teased but she has never seen him get at least a bit violent. But now, she really needs to know the truth straight from her son. Trisha crouched, brought her eye level to Ed and stared at her eldest in the eyes, and asked, “Did you really punch him?”

Ed looked down at his shoes then to the side, literally looking anywhere else other than back at her and her heart sank. He always does when he does something wrong. She got her confirmation a few seconds later with a small “Yes.” She sighed in disappointment. What is happening?

Ed spoke up, “But Mom, they were taking Al’s lunch yesterday, I saw it happen.” Trisha’s eyes went wide and her head went flying towards her younger son, Al, who was silently sitting by the kitchen. “Al, honey, come here.” With slow steps, Al shuffled to her side. He is chewing on his bottom lip and burning a hole on the floor. She asked it if it was true and for the second time, her heart sits in the pits of her stomach as Al quietly nods his head.

“For how long?” Trisha quietly asked Al. She knew between the two boys, Al was the more soft-hearted one. He gives tiny pieces of bread to pigeons in the backyard and sneaks little kittens into his room. She was afraid that this personality of his might make him a target at school.

She reached out and smoothed his head to comfort the boy. Trisha sighed and sank down the chair and faced her two boys. “Al, the next time that happens, I want you to go talk to your teachers. If not, you talk to me okay? I don’t want you to be taken advantage of in school or anywhere. It is never wrong to tell someone if you’re not comfortable in a situation. Understood?”

Al nodded and several strands of blond hair fell down his forehead, as his eyes filled up with unshed tears. He needs a haircut soon, Trisha thought.

Now, turning to her oldest, “Edward,” she began and Ed slightly flinched. “You know it’s not good for you or anyone for that matter to hit other people. Even if they hurt someone you love. If someone tries to hurt the people you protect, find another way to protect them. Violence is never the answer. Remember that.”

Ed sullenly nodded his head. “I know you love your brother. But sometimes you’ve got to take the high road and forgive. Find a way to get out of that situation without hurting anyone. You’re smart. You’re the smartest kid I know. You’ll find a way.”

Ed suddenly rushes into her arms and whispers “Sorry, Mom.” in a broken voice, almost crying.

Trisha is taken aback. Ed never cries, he’s usually not comfortable showing emotions, unlike Al who wears his heart on his sleeves. She reaches out to Al, inviting him in their little circle and Al runs and throws his little limbs around them both.

They’re going to be okay.

Trisha pulls away, “Now, I want you both to know that things like these have consequences. No alchemy for a week. You boys go outside and play with other kids or go to the Rockbells. Starting today.” Both boys’ jaws dropped open. It’s hilarious how some parents have to take away toys or make them stay inside during punishments like this. But with two aspiring alchemists under her roof, both boys kind of forget how much time passes when they’re inside their father’s library. She had to sometimes fetch them because they forget to come down during lunch. It’s amazing how much they are similar to Van when it comes to these little things.

Van, look at our boys, they’re getting bigger every day. I just hope you were here to see it.

“If I see anyone sneaking around and doing alchemy, it will be extended for a day for both of you. Understood?” They both nod, shoulders dropped, and their faces dejected.

Trisha stands up, “Now you two, come help me set the table for dinner. Just because you’re grounded, doesn’t mean you don’t get pie for dessert.” Suddenly the twin faces of dejection turn to two bright smiles and arguing over who gets to set the table better. Trisha looks at the brothers and permits her lips for a soft smile.

The next day, Trisha sorted out Ed’s situation at school. Obviously, the other boy’s mother displayed annoyance as she apologized for Ed’s behavior. She told the headmistress about Ed's reason and agreed that it did not (and never will be) justify Ed's actions. With this new information, the other parent’s eyes went wide and directed a glare to her own son, who suddenly became interested in the fraying hem of his coat. At the end of the meeting, the other was alternating between apologizing profusely to Trisha and shooting looks at her son. Trisha assured her that it would be okay and that Ed swears it won’t happen again.

When Trisha was on her way home, she passed by Pinako with little Winry in tow.

“Trisha! How was the school meeting?” Pinako asked as a way of greeting. She was wearing a traveling coat and had a small briefcase with her.

Trisha smiled. “Nothing new. I’m just glad Ed’s not getting suspended or something. He just had to do extra work at school for the teacher along with the boy he punched.” She quickly explained the situation to which Pinako hummed her agreement.

“I am sorry, dear. But I had to leave for Rush Valley immediately.” Pinako explained when Trisha asked where she was going. Apparently, one of her local clients had called for her to fix his automail while he’s in Rush Valley as he’s in no condition to travel to Resembool to get it fixed.

Pinako clasped her hands together, “Would it be too much of a bother to leave Winry with you for at least two days? I can’t bring her with me right now as she just got better from having the flu.”

Trisha didn’t even hesitate to say yes. “It’ll be refreshing having another girl in the house. It’ll be better since both boys are grounded. They have to find something else to do.” Trisha smiled at the little girl, who she just noticed was silently crying. She turned to look at Pinako and the older woman explained, “She wanted to come along but I really couldn’t take her. It’ll be more difficult for both of us if she gets sick again.”

Trisha nodded and then turned to the little girl and said, “You know, I have some extra apples at home. Would you like to help me make a pie? I’d like a little helper with me because Ed just likes to eat and Al makes too much of a mess because he’s still a little boy. You’re a big girl now, right?” Almost immediately, Winry stopped crying and stared at her with watery eyes. “I am a big girl now.” she hiccupped in the most adorable way and smiled. “I’ll help you!” The girl took off to the direction of her house yelling out that she’s going to have pie for dinner.

Pinako looked after her with a small smile on her face. “She is so full of energy, I can barely keep up. Her parents sent her a letter this morning. She ran around the house almost tearing the letter up.” Pinako’s son and his wife are doctors shipped to the military and left Winry in the care of her grandmother who owns an automail shop. The couple barely had the chance to bid them farewell before both were shipped to the war front.

“Don’t worry, Pinako. I’ll look after her while you’re gone.” Trisha said, resting her hand on Pinako’s shoulder to reassure the older woman.

Pinako smiled, a small weight lifted off her chest. She put her wrinkled hand on top of her hand. “I sent you a batch of stew I made this morning because I didn’t know I would leave. So you won’t have to cook dinner. It’s the least I could do for you. Tell Winry I’ll see her in a couple of days.” With that, Pinako set off to walk towards the train station towards Rush Valley.

When Trisha reached the house, she found the boys had already washed up for dinner. Winry was standing on top of the stool in front of the sink and washing the freshly picked apples. A pot was sitting on top of the table, the stew Pinako was talking about. Together, the four of them tried to make a pie, in this case Winry helped measure the ingredients while the two boys kept getting flour everywhere and settled with wiping the counters instead.

While enjoying Pinako’s beef stew, Trisha listened to the antics the small children got into during dinner. It feels carefree to live as a child again. She was subjected to the stories of who hides the best during hide and seek, which kid scraped their knee at lunch, how the teacher asked them what pet they would have if they don’t have one.

“I’d want a kitty.” Al turned to her with pleading golden eyes. Trisha returned that look while saying “I haven’t forgotten the mess of the last time we had a cat in this house.” Al sheepishly shot her a smile as he proceeded to devour his plate of stew.

Eventually, Trisha went to prepare the spare bedroom for Winry while the kids played downstairs. Just as she was changing the sheets, she heard the door creak open

“Mom?” Ed said by the door. He was pushed further into the room by Al. Both boys had their hands behind their backs. When they got in front of her, they looked at each other first then held out their hands.

In Ed’s hands is a tiny flower, almost as big as her thumb and obviously made with alchemy, the curves of the flowers are too smooth to be handcrafted. “For me?” When Ed nodded, she took the flower from his hands, her heart warm. “We made it last week, so we didn’t do alchemy after you grounded us. I wanted to do a rose or tulip but it was too complicated so I went with a simple wildflower like the ones growing on the street.”

Trisha smiled but before she can even speak, Al holds out his hands. This time, it was a tiny kitten curled in a ball, no bigger than the flower his brother made. “Brother helped me out since it was too hard so I guess we both made it but I wanted the kitty.” Al proudly declared, his smile wide across his face. “Sorry, Mom. I never should’ve done that. I won’t do that again.” Ed threw his hands around her waist and Al followed suit. Looking down at both of their blond heads, she set down the two gifts and smoothed both of their hair back.

See, Van? I told you. We’re going to be fine. The three of us. Don’t worry.

#moms-made-fullmetal-2020 #fic #day 3 #trisha elric #alphonse elric #edward elric #pinako rockbell #wiinry rockbell #fullemtal alchemist brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab

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fullmetalscullyy · 5 years ago

Text

the way it was - chapter 15

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

chapter 13 | read on ao3

1914

well this is life in colour

today feels like no other

“Hello, Riza,” Gracia Hughes greeted warmly, hugging the host tightly after stepping into her home. “How have you been?”.

“I’ve been well, Gracia. Thank you for asking. What about yourself?”

“The same,” she smiled, glancing down at her daughter, who had just tugged on her hand to get her mother’s attention.

“Mummy?” Elicia asked. “Where’s Mia?”

Riza smiled at Hughes' daughter, and Gracia smiled at her eagerness.

“She’s inside, Elicia,” Riza revealed, crouching to her level. “Let me take your jacket and you can go in and see her if you like? She’s in the living room with Uncle Roy.”

Shortly after her birth, Maes and Gracia had asked Roy and Riza if they’d like to be the godparents of Elicia. They both readily accepted and returned the favour with Mia. The titles of aunt and uncle came along shortly after that, and it stuck.

At that piece of information, Elicia’s eyes lit up and she grinned. “Okay!”

“Aunt Rebecca is already in there too,” Riza announced as she eased Elicia’s coat gently off her shoulders. Elicia’s eyes lit up even more. She was a big fan of Rebecca.

“Yay!” she clapped happily.

“I love this jacket, Elicia. It’s very beautiful.” She beamed at her Aunt Riza.

“I picked it out myself. I like the flowers on it!” she exclaimed.

“You have very good taste.”

Elicia’s eyes positively sparkled, and her cheeks turned a light shade of pink in her pride.

“Head on through, Honey,” Riza gestured. “They’re just in there.”

Elicia was a very confident child, not much phased her, however she tentatively walked to the living room and peeked through the door to see who was there waiting for her. When she spotted Roy, her posture straightened, and that confidence returned.

“Uncle Roy!” she cried happily, running into the room.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Gracia added once Riza had straightened to stand.

“Thank you for coming. I appreciate it, especially after having to reschedule.”

The Elric brothers were out of town for longer than anticipated and then Roy and Riza had to move to Central, so the dinner party she’d arranged with Maes was quickly forgotten about and put on the back burner until they were settled.

“Of course,” Gracia announced. “I wouldn’t miss tonight for the world,” she smiled warmly. “I brought some wine for the three ladies,” Gracia announced.

Just then, Maes opened the front door and entered the hallway, shivering from the cool spring air outside, but sighing in relief from the sudden warmth.

“It’s getting warmer out there, so that’s something!” Maes hugged his arms tight to his body to warm himself before shrugging out of his jacket. “Riza!” he cried with a grin, enveloping her in a tight hug. “How are you?”

“I’m well, Maes,” she smiled. “And thank you for the gift, Gracia. I really appreciate it… but, I won’t be able to drink it tonight, unfortunately. It will just be you and Rebecca on the wine tonight,” Riza revealed, her eyes sparkling as she watched the two of them furrow their brows. Gracia was the one who reached the conclusion first, but Maes was not long after her.

“Are you pregnant, Riza Mustang?” Gracia gasped. Riza nodded vigorously. “Oh, my goodness. Congratulations!” Riza was enveloped in another tight hug by Gracia. Maes joined in as well and the three of them embraced happily in Riza’s hallway.

“Another bun in the oven, huh?” Maes asked, kissing Riza’s cheek. “Congrats! Where’s Roy?”

“In the living room,” Riza told him.

Without another word, Maes entered and shook his hand. Riza watched as Roy stood and Maes pulled him into a tight hug. Roy smiled, clapping his back in thanks.

“I’ll take this out of your way then,” Gracia announced, placing the bottle of wine back in the bag she’d brought with her. “We can save it for after the baby is born. How about that?” she grinned.

“I would love that. Thank you.”

“Would you like any help in the kitchen?” Gracia offered.

“No thank you, I’m all right. Make yourself at home,” Riza offered, showing her through to their living room where the excited chatter continued now that Maes was in on the secret that she was pregnant.

There was another knock at the door, followed by hushed voices, so Gracia excused herself as Riza approached the door.

“Brother, stop fidgeting,” a rather metallic sounding voice stated sharply.

“I’m not, Al,” another replied. They both sounded so young.

“You are, I’m watching you do it. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“I’m not nervous,” the boy spat.

“It’s just the Colonel,” a female voice replied, her voice hushed.

“I know who it is, Winry,” the boy grumbled. “And I’m not nervous!”

Riza opened the door and was slightly taken aback when a large metal suit of armour filled her vision. The metallic voice gasped as the door opened, promptly straightening in posture as he saw Riza. That must be Alphonse. Next to him stood a small teenager. His long bangs covered his forehead, dropping down towards his eyes. Matching his fringe, was a long braid that extended down his back. Edward. The girl though, Riza didn't know. Her long blonde hair was gently brushed to the side in the spring breeze. In her hands she clutched a basket with a cover over it, and from the door Riza could faintly smell cooked apples.

She’d learned about everything that had happened with Edward and Alphonse Elric. Edward was wearing a red jacket and gloves, but Riza caught a glimpse of his automail underneath the cloth. She knew Alphonse was a soul bonded to this suit of armour before her. Riza was fully aware they’d been the victim of human transmutation, but seeing them both before her now made the news hit home even harder than it had before. Edward still looks so young. It was a horrifying thought, and Riza’s heart sank a little. They’d been even younger than they were now when they performed the taboo.

Ever since she’d discovered what had happened to them, Riza just wanted to give them both a hug. Roy had told her his plan to keep what they did a secret in exchange for Edward’s loyalty to his cause, but he also revealed that he would hate it if the top brass ever found out what happened to them. Alphonse would be taken away and studied while they tried to figure out how it was possible. Edward would be kept under close watch and wouldn’t have as much freedom to go out and travel the country to find out what happened to them both. Roy liked to gripe about how much of a headache Edward gave him, but she knew he cared for the two boys, and Riza couldn’t think of a better person to look out for them both. She was glad they had Roy’s support behind them.

Pushing down her strong maternal instinct for the moment, Riza smiled at the trio warmly. “Hello Edward, Alphonse. Come in,” she beckoned. Stepping aside, they both entered her home.

Despite the hushed conversation she’d heard before opening the door, Edward did look rather nervous, but he stepped forward and inside the house. Alphonse ducked carefully and stepped inside, filling her hallway, but managed to clear the ceiling with enough room to move comfortably.

“Good evening, Mrs. Mustang,” Alphonse greeted.

“Hello…” Edward greeted, unsure on how to proceed. It felt like he wanted to say something, then stopped himself. “Mrs. Mustang,” he finished sheepishly. Riza smiled at him, appreciative of his manners. Obviously, it would take some time for them to get used to it.

“I do apologise,” Riza added as the girl entered after them. “But I don’t believe we’ve met before. Roy didn’t mention your friend here,” Riza announced kindly.

“My name is Winry,” she replied. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Mustang.” She shifted from foot to foot for a moment. “And sorry for turning up unannounced,” she fretted. “Mr. Hughes said it would be all right,” she explained.

Riza waved away her concerns. “The more the merrier,” she replied. There was more than enough food to go around as well, so an extra guest was no problem for Riza. “It’s a pleasure to meet the three of you,” she greeted. “And please, Riza is fine,” she insisted. “Everyone is in the living room just now.” Riza directed them to the correct door. “Would you like a drink?”

“Just water, please,” Edward replied.

“The same for me,” Winry requested politely.

“N – Nothing for me please, Mrs. Mus – I mean, Riza,” Alphonse stuttered.

“It’s all right, Alphonse,” she soothed him. “Roy told me what happened to you both.” Edward’s spine straightened, his face was stricken. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything to offer you instead.”

“That’s – That’s okay, Mrs. Mustang. Um, I – I mean we – would really appreciate it if…” Alphonse trailed off.

“If you didn’t say anything,” Edward finished. His eyebrow twitched in irritation. Given his relationship with Roy, something told Riza that Edward was annoyed at him for letting their secret slip.

“Don’t worry, boys,” Riza reassured them. “I’ve known about you two since before you got your automail, Edward.” The pair of them shared a look. “I’ve hoped for a while that I’d be able to meet you someday. How are you both? Are you all right?”

They shared another look. They were surprised by her concern, but her maternal instinct wouldn’t rest. At every mention of those boys, Riza couldn’t help but think about her own daughter, and how she couldn’t bear the thought if something like that happened to Mia.

“We’re… okay. Thank you.” Edward seemed genuinely surprised and his thanks were sincere.

“If there’s anything you need, just let me know,” Riza smiled, showing them the way into their living room. They were greeted warmly by her other guests and Riza left them to it, entering their kitchen.

“I brought something along with me,” Winry announced shyly as Edward and Alphonse entered to speak to the other guests. “I baked an apple pie.”

“Oh, Winry. Thank you so much. I thought something smelled delicious. Would you like to bring it through?”

Winry nodded and followed her to the kitchen.

“Just put it wherever you find a space,” Riza told her. “I can’t wait to dig in.”

“Thank you. I hope it’s all right. Edward loves it, but I think he’s a little biased.” She chuckled, her cheeks turning slightly pink. Riza smiled knowingly, recognising that look.

“I’m sure it will be perfect.”

“Would you like a hand with cooking?” Winry offered.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you for your offer. Go through and enjoy the company. I’ve got things handled in here.”

“Okay, thank you, Mrs. Must - I mean Riza.”

* * *

Riza busied herself with cooking dinner, oblivious to what was happening in the rest of her house. She heard laughter in the background as she worked, and it made her smile. She was pleased everyone was getting along. Growing up, she’d never had a house as warm of this. She never thought she ever would. To hear such happiness emanate from her living room as all her guests enjoyed themselves made her heart warmer than any fire could.

Well, except maybe Roy’s. He always managed to make her feel safe, loved, and happy. To this day she couldn’t believe her luck. The attractive, brilliant, and overall incredible Roy Mustang had fallen in love with sad, lonely, and plain Riza. Sometimes she’d wondered if it had been out of pity, especially after they were first married.

Her father had asked Roy to take care of her on his deathbed. That request still bewildered Riza because Berthold had never shown love or care to her after her mother's death. It was as if he’d forgotten about Riza completely. Riza wondered if it was out of guilt, but didn’t hold out much hope for that reasoning. He probably only wanted Roy to protect her body, not her as a person. After all, she’d been turned into her father’s own personal notebook. The research on her back was more important than Riza.

Being the gentleman he was, Roy had asked Riza to marry him. Riza had often thought it was only because he’d felt it was his duty, but she hadn’t wanted to tie him down like that. So, she questioned everything, because how could she be loved so much by him? It had to be an act. It had to be. He was young, and did the thing he thought was right. In the first few weeks Riza had been waiting for him to come to his senses and leave her, realising he’d made a mistake tying himself to her so young. Her father had drilled it into her that she was useless every day. How could someone so useless be loved by him? Slowly, Roy had chipped away at her walls and broken them down. Riza couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so happy in her childhood.

Then, the bomb was dropped when he’d been called up to serve in Ishval. She’d been loved and cherished for six months, then he’d been roughly pulled away from her. He was going off to war. He could have been killed. Coupled with the hormones from her pregnancy, Riza had spent many days, not just nights, sitting in a depressive state, tears tracking down her cheeks. That was when she was at her lowest.

Rebecca dragged her out of that somewhat. She was taken on days out. They went shopping for Mia together to prepare for her birth. These trips led to lunches out or teas in coffee shops. Before Riza knew it, it was time for dinner. Rebecca invited her around to her apartment for dinner more often than not. Riza had been too tired from their busy days to make it home. Sometimes Rebecca drove her back to her cold, lonely apartment, but Riza always preferred sleeping at Rebecca’s. It helped to have some company.

“Hello,” Roy greeted as he kissed her temple, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. He broke her from her ruminations, but Riza wasn’t going to complain about his more than welcome affections.

“Hello, you,” Riza smiled, looking over the timings on the recipe sheet in front of her. She set the kitchen timer for twenty minutes then relaxed against Roy’s chest. The last thing was being cooked and in twenty minutes, the food would be ready to serve. This was the first time she’d ever hosted a meal and was slightly nervous. She just wanted everything to go well.

“How are you doing?” His arms slipped from around her waist while Riza turned in his grasp. They settled on her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’m fine.” She was a little bit tired, but not enough to put her off hosting for the night.

“Let me know if you need any help, okay?”

“I will Roy, don’t worry.” She kissed him softly. The grip on her waist tightened in response. “Everything is fine through here. What about through there?” she nodded towards the living room.

“Surprisingly, Edward Elric is good with kids.”

“He’s a kid himself. Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Because he has a terrible attitude that stinks to high heaven?”

Riza scoffed. “Only to you. He was perfectly polite when I met him.”

Roy grumbled under his breath, a scowl forming on his face.

“Maybe if you weren’t so hard on him, he would be nicer to you.”

“I have been nice,” Roy stated defensively. “I gave them the freedom they needed, didn’t I?”

“Followed by a smug look and a snarky comment, no doubt,” Riza teased.

Roy’s scowl deepened but Riza just laughed at him. She pulled away, moving away to cut the last of the carrots.

“Go back to entertaining our guests,” she dismissed him with an amused tone. “And try not to make Edward throttle you.”

Roy snorted. “I can’t make that promise,” he muttered.

Riza entered their living room with an amused smile. Laughter made its way through to her and she wondered what was so funny. Roy was scowling at Hughes – what was new there – while everyone was laughing, most likely at Roy’s expense.

“And then he was knocked flat on his ass,” Maes stated loudly before guffawing, while Rebecca joined in with him. Edward was cackling away while Alphonse’s laugh was slightly nervous, like he felt he probably shouldn’t be laughing. Gracia just smiled, but her attention was on her daughter and Mia. Riza’s heart melted at the sight of Winry sitting on the floor, Elicia in her lap, and Mia by her side as they played with Hayate.

Mia wasn’t laughing, though. Elicia was giggling because everyone else was, but Mia’s face fell as she looked up at her father, then around at everyone in the room. Riza watched as she climbed to her feet, rushing over to Roy.

“That’s okay, Daddy,” Mia reassured him. She wrapped her arms around a surprised Roy’s neck. “You’ll always be my hero,” Riza heard her whisper in his ear. It was spoken quiet enough that the rest of them didn’t hear over their laughter, but Riza was standing behind the couch Roy was sitting on, so she heard every word.

Roy wrapped his arms tightly around Mia. “Thank you, Mia Bear,” he whispered.

“Dinner is served, everyone,” Riza announced. Eagerly, their guests made their way to their dining room. Riza hung back and waited for Roy and Mia. He’d hoisted her into his arms and was carrying her through on his hip, rather than walking with Mia by his side. Hayate walked dutifully by their side, looking up at Mia as they walked.

The whole night was a hit. The drinks flowed and all the food was gone by the end of the night. Most of them went back for seconds, stating it was too good to only have one serving. Riza thanked them sincerely, touched. On the inside she was beaming with pride.

“I told you Riza was an amazing cook,” Roy announced, kissing her cheek. She turned pink at the compliment and went back to eating Winry’s apple pie without saying a word.

“Her cooking is to die for,” Rebecca announced, helping herself to a third plate, unashamed.

“Riza, my dear, you’re an absolutely wonderful cook, however no one holds a candle to my Gracia,” Maes winked. “Sorry.”

“Winry’s apple pie is great too,” Alphonse piped up. “Edward tells me its the best he’s ever tasted.”

Riza watched, trying to hide her laugh as Edward’s face turned scarlet and Winry’s cheeks were dusted pink.

Edward coughed in response. “Yeah, it is,” he muttered quietly in response. “It’s really great.”

“Let’s not compare and contrast,” Gracia announced, keeping the peace. “The meal was wonderful, Riza. Thank you so much.”

A chorus of thank yous sounded around the table.

Riza noticed Alphonse was writing in a notebook under the table. Not wishing to embarrass him, she kept it quiet, but Mia noticed, to her chagrin.

“What are you writing, Alphonse?” she asked, eyes wide and curious.

“Oh! Um…” He sounded embarrassed. Riza opened her mouth to tell Mia to leave her questions for now, but Alphonse continued anyway. “It’s a journal I like to keep.”

“What’s in it?”

“Mia? Let’s leave questions for later, okay?” Riza told her gently.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Mus – I mean Riza,” Alphonse piped up. “Um, it’s a journal of all the food I’m going to eat when… I feel better.”

Mia was too young to understand that Alphonse had lost his entire body and Riza appreciated the teen stating he wasn’t eating because he didn't feel well, rather than revealing he had no mouth. Mia took it in her stride and nodded without further questioning.

“Brother tells me all the things that are particularly delicious, and I take a note of them in here, so I remember to try them when I get my body back,” Alphonse elaborated.

The table awed at his kind statement. Riza felt tears welling inside her eyes. Alphonse was incredibly sweet for saying it, and she was touched.

Roy squeezed her knee in comfort. “That’s lovely of you to say, Alphonse,” Roy told him.

“Yes,” Riza stuttered, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” Alphonse stated happily. “We’ll make sure to come back so I can try your food. If that’s all right, of course?”

Roy grinned and patted her knee again under the table.

“That would be lovely,” she smiled, blinking furiously. “Thank you.”

* * *

“Um, Mrs. Mustang?” a nervous voice asked as Riza washed the dishes in the sink.

Turning, she saw Winry standing in the doorway.

“Hello, Winry. Is everything all right?”

She nodded. “Sorry, it just didn’t feel right to leave you to clean up by yourself.”

Riza chuckled. “That’s not a problem, Winry. You’re our guest. I wouldn’t ask you to wash dishes with me anyway.”

“Would you mind if I helped?”

“If you insist,” Riza smiled, handing her a dish towel. “I wouldn’t mind the company either.”

“I…” She trailed off, biting her lip as she took the towel from Riza’s outstretched hand.

Riza paused for a second, expectantly. Winry obviously wanted to ask her something, but couldn’t quite form the words.

“Take your time, Winry,” Riza reassured her as she continued in her task. Soap suds were up to her elbows as she made her way through the mountain of plates they’d used at dinner.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

“Do you… worry about the Colonel a lot?”

“All the time,” Riza replied simply.

Winry nodded and Riza saw her swallow. “How do you deal with it?” Her voice was extremely quiet as she wiped the water off the plate and gently placed it on the counter.

Riza paused, cocking her head in thought. She wouldn’t lie to the girl and say it was easy, because sometimes it wasn’t.

“He’s in a position of power, and in the military. He could be called out to war at any moment, but I think I would worry about him all the time regardless of that fact.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love him,” Riza elaborated. “And when you love someone so much, you worry about them regardless of where they are in their life. Are they happy? Are they healthy? Are they doing okay? I feel the same way about Mia as well. I just want my family to be cared for and happy, so focus on that.”

Winry nodded, picking up another plate. She was silent as she absorbed Riza’s words. The two worked together quietly as Riza waited for Winry to move the conversation further.

“It’s hard,” the young girl whispered.

“I know,” Riza replied sympathetically.

“I… Sometimes I don’t even know where they are. The last I hear from them, they’re in East City, then a few days later they show up at my door, broken.” The plate hit the countertop harder than Winry intended, and the teen jumped. “I’m so sorry,” she stammered.

“Winry, it’s okay. Why don’t we have a seat?” Riza suggested gently. This was obviously not a conversation to be held over washing dishes.

Letting out a breath, Winry nodded in agreement.

In that same moment, Riza caught Roy walking through with two empty glasses in his hands. He opened his mouth to talk, but stopped when he saw Riza’s urgent glare. Behind Winry’s back, Riza motioned for him to stop and leave. Mouth parted in surprise, he spun on his heel and left the two of them alone.

“You worry about them a lot, don’t you?” Riza prompted once they were settled at the dining table.

Winry nodded. “They’re my best friends,” she whispered. “I don’t want to lose them.”

Riza could more than sympathise with that.

“I don’t want to wake up one day and… find out they won’t be coming home.”

“I understand completely. I’m the same with Roy.” Riza eyed Winry carefully for a moment. “You love them, don’t you?”

Her face turned bright pink. “I - I - They’re my friends,” she stuttered.

Riza knew better. There was a deeper connection between the three of them. Perhaps it stemmed from what the brothers went through. Winry had revealed over dinner that she was an automail mechanic, and being Edward’s oldest friend it didn’t take Riza long to connect the dots. Winry had been the one to attach Edward’s automail. She’d seen him and Alphonse through their traumatic past and recovery.

“It’s never been easy,” Riza began, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “Especially with Roy in the military. I won’t lie and say it has been a breeze, because I do worry every time he leaves for work. However, I trust him. Even though I can’t be with him to make sure he’s all right, I trust him to look out for himself and I know that he has a solid team behind him. So do Edward and Alphonse. Remember that.”

“I’ll try… but…”

“It’s easier said than done, I know that. Do you feel helpless every time you see them struggling?” Winry’s head lifted, expression perking up. “Do you want to help, but don’t know how?”

“Yes,” she breathed earnestly. She looked delighted to have found someone who understood her.

“You gave Edward the ability to walk again, Winry,” Riza stated, sitting back in her chair with a smile. “You’ve helped them so much already.”

“You’re right,” she mumbled to herself.

“Even if you feel helpless, you just being there will help them,” Riza continued. “They might not thank you. They might not even think to. However, they will appreciate it and one day, they’ll realise how big a help you were to them.”

“Is that what you do for the Colonel?”

“I’ll always be there for him when he needs me. You might need to give them some time, but they’ll come when they need you. You just need to tell them that.”

“Right,” Winry nodded, determination in her voice.

“Sorry to interrupt, Lladies,” Roy announced quietly and sheepishly as he crept around the door. “Catalina is demanding more wine.” He shot Riza an apologetic look as he entered with the same two glasses. “And she’s right, Winry. I don’t know what I would do without her,” Roy grinned at his wife.

Riza snorted. “He can be so hopeless sometimes,” she whispered loudly to the teen. “It’s a wonder how he even gets by in life,” she winked.

Winry’s eyes widened considerably. Then she giggled. “I often think the same about Ed,” she admitted. “I’m glad he has Al beside him at least. That gives me some comfort at least.”

They laughed together then Roy took his leave. In passing he paused before Riza, pecking her cheek.

“Mia is asking for her Mama,” he announced. “She says she misses you.”

Winry let out an aw as Riza chuckled. “We won’t be long.”

Roy pecked her cheek then left the room with two glasses of wine.

Riza opened her mouth to suggest joining the rest of them, but she paused. Winry was fidgeting in her chair and it looked like she had some more questions for Riza.

“Did you ever think about following him?” she asked suddenly.

“I did,” Riza revealed. “Once.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, of course,” Winry gushed as an afterthought.

“You want to know why I didn’t?”

Winry nodded.

“Roy works towards making the world a better place and protecting the two brothers. He’s got a good team I trust to keep him on track. However, there’s someone I have to protect too. I have Mia,” she replied, then a slow smile spread across Riza’s face. “And another one on the way too.” She cupped her stomach gently, unable to stop the smile from spreading.

“Are you pregnant?” Winry asked.

Riza nodded. “Roy and I have another one on the way.”

“Oh, congratulations!” Winry cried excitedly.

“Thank you, Winry.”

“Thank you for this talk, Mrs. Mustang,” Winry breathed. She let out a long breath and Riza saw her shoulders sagging in relief, like a weight had been lifted.

“Anytime Winry,” she smiled fondly. “And it’s Riza, please.”

“Okay, Riza.” Winry’s grin was bright.

“And I mean it. If you ever need anything or want to chat, just give me a call.”

“I will, thank you!”

“Even if it’s to complain about how dumb the men in our lives are,” Riza winked. She laughed as Winry’s face turned scarlet and she coughed, but she still thanked Riza with a shy smile on her face.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #emma writes #the way it was

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sassydefendorflower · 2 years ago

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So...

Headcanon Time :D

And Ed said yes. Of course, he did.

Later, when Ed joined the military, he gave up on wearing Al’s clothes for two reasons:

a) since Ed had actually grown at least a bit between his eleventh birthday and his twelfth and Al’s clothes were growing to small

and

#fma #fmab #alphonse elric #edward elric #winry rockbell #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #i just...#have a lot of thoughts about these kids #look at them #they are precious

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edxwin-elric · 5 years ago

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Time Will Tell

FMA Secret Santa 2019

@snowdog49 surprise! I’m your FMA Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy this fluffy little Edwin AU!

Rating: T

Pairing: Edwin/Edward Elric x Winry Rockbell

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Word Count: 2313

Title: Time Will Tell

Description: Edwin One Shot/Roleswap AU

Edward is an automail mechanic and Winry is his most loyal customer. The story is that she lost her right arm and lower left leg due to rogue explosions from the nearby military conflict, but Ed knows the truth. A failed alchemical attempt to bring back her parents after they were killed in Ishval. As someone who lost his own mother, he understands her grief, but his anger at his absentee father on top of that pain has left him with a short fuse. Yet somehow, his annoying and maybe-sometimes-adorable childhood best friend and automail client puts him at ease. However, her frequent visits for repairs are making Ed suspicious.

A/N: Merry Christmas!/Happy Holidays! I hope you like it!

ffn || ao3

Edward

“Hey, Brother?”

“Mmm?”

I don’t bother to look up at Al, who has his head in the door to my workroom. I’m focused on fitting a very tiny screw into a very precise hole, so I really don’t have time for distractions right now.

“I think you should clear your afternoon.”

Narrowing my eyes on my work, I talk around the screwdriver between my teeth. “Why?”

“Uh,” he bites his lip and finishes quickly, “Winry just called from the train station. She, uh, needs a repair.”

The tool falls out of my mouth, and I see the suddenly-unimportant screw fall between two metal plates as I turn to look over my shoulder.

“What did she do now?”

“I didn’t get all the details from Granny, but it sounded pretty bad.”

“Son of a bitch,” I bite out. “This is the fourth time this month. What the hell is she doing in Central?”

“On the phone I overheard her tell Granny she fell again.”

“She said what?” I sputter looking up at him as I move away from the table. “Bullshit!”

Al shrugs, and I let out a low growl.

“As if my automail was flimsy enough to break from a mere fall,” I hiss. “Absolute bullshit! I mean, hell, she’s supposed to be studying Aerugonian history or literature or something. How does that lead to bimonthly automail repairs?”

“Seriously, Brother, I’m not the one to ask.”

Ripping my apron over my head, I throw it on my workbench and tighten the knot at my waist where my coveralls are tied over my black tank top.

“I’m gonna lose my fucking mind, Al,” I mutter. “She knows how hard I worked on that arm. It’s a masterpiece. I was considering taking her to Rush Valley and entering it for the Innovative Automail Competition. If she ruined it…”

I don’t finish my sentence because I’m not sure what I’ll do if Winry destroyed her arm, and Al knows it.

“I think that’s her coming up the road,” Al changes the subject, craning his head to see out the window on to the balcony.

“I can’t look,” I mumble.

“Granny will be expecting us to go down and greet her.”

“I’ll come in a minute.”

I need at least that long to reign in my temper. It won’t do me any good to go off on her the second I go down. She’ll only fly into an indignant rage. Or worse, she’ll start crying. Nothing is worse than the crushing guilt of making Winry cry.

Al nods and disappears down the hall, and I exhale. I hear her voice float up the stairs a few seconds later, and my stomach flips upside down.

Shit.

Why does she have to be so cute? Fuck. I want to scream. Not because she busted my automail—though I could scream over that—but because…

“Fuck,” I groan.

I mean, no. NO. I don’t have a crush on Winry. I can’t. She’s my client. I’m not excited to see her. I’m just…

Annoyed. That’s what it is. Pissed and annoyed because she somehow managed to screw up the fine craftsmanship I did on her arm.

Unless it’s her leg.

I hadn’t even considered that. I shut my eyes for a second and the image of her smooth thigh flashes through my mind.

I feel my cheeks flush, and I want to punch myself. This is bad. I’m a professional. I shouldn’t get distracted like this. What is wrong with me?

“Edward?”

She calls my name from the bottom of the stairs, and I wince because that only makes things worse.

Then again, it’s Winry. She’s not exactly just any client. She’s… She’s…

“Ed,” her voice calls from the hallway, and I turn toward the door just as she steps inside. “Do you have a minute?”

Dammit. She’s perfect.

Winry

My mouth goes dry before the question is even out of my mouth, and suddenly, I can’t breathe. Since when does he look like that? Those shoulders? And the arms? Did he look like that last time? And how long has he been wearing a fitted black tank top? His pecs are—

“Winry?”

“Hmm?” I blink, lifting my eyes to his.

His eyebrows rise, and I swallow.

“Sorry. I, um…”

“Al said you needed a repair,” he starts slowly. “Is that what you wanted to see me about?”

“Oh, um, yes,” I say quickly, licking my lips. “Here. It’s my wrist.”

I walk closer to him and hold out my arm.

“It started locking up while I was writing a paper the other day, and then it did it again last night. I haven’t done anything that would mess it up except I fell out of bed the other morning, and I landed on it.”

“You fell out of bed?” he echoes with surprise. “How old are you?”

“I had a bad dream,” I bite back defensively. “Anyway, what do you think? Can you fix it?”

“Of course, I can fix it.” He narrows his eyes at me, and I roll mine. “Come here.”

He leads me over to the workbench and grabs a headlamp, which he slips over his forehead and the messy bun at the back of his head. I stand still while he turns my wrist over and back, pulling and twisting here and there, asking me the occasional yes-or-no question.

“Has it been hurting?” He turns it over again and looks up at me.

“Only a twinge here and there. Nothing too serious.”

“Hmm.”

“What?” I frown, something about his vagueness is bothering me.

“I’m not sure…”

My impatience increases, and I reach up with my free arm to rub my neck.

“Edward, can you fix it or–”

“Hold still, would ya?” he interrupts testily.

“I am being still.”

I’ve been standing still for a whole five minutes, and he has yet to say a single thing about my automail.

“Winry, just–”

“Ow!” I jerk when he twists my arm, sending a burst of pain through my elbow. “That hurt!”

“Well if you’d be still, it wouldn’t–”

“I was!” I snap. “And warn me next time!”

“I didn’t know it was going to hurt you,” he mutters as he straightens, blinding me with his headlamp. “I’m just doing what you wanted, checking your automail. Again.”

“Oh, don’t blame this on me,” I huff. “You designed it. If it keeps breaking, it’s probably your fault.”

“Bullshit,” he snarls, whipping off the light on his head. “That piece was perfect when I fitted it.”

“And the Titanic was unsinkable.”

“Son of a bitch, Winry, do you want me to fix it or not? Because if we’re just going to stand here arguing all day, I have other shit I can be doing.”

I sigh, shaking my head.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “Of course, I want you to fix it.”

“Okay.” He takes my wrist in his hands again. “Then be still.”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” he says after fiddling with it for another five minutes. “I think I found the problem. Fair warning, this might hurt.”

Before he even finishes, he presses down with his thumb, and a sharp pain shoots from my wrist up my arm and shoulder into my neck.

“Edward!” I screech at him as tears spring into my eyes.

“What? You said to warn you, so I did!”

“That was hardly a warning,” I hiss, pulling my wrist away and cradling my arm.

“You’re impossible!” He shouts, waving his arms in surrender.

“Me? If either of us is impossible it’s you!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m not the one who wants a warning and then yells at me even after I give her one!”

“That’s not why I yelled,” I retort, my voice strained with annoyance. “God, how did I fall in love with such an idiot?”

“I’m not an idiot! I’m—wait, what?”

“I yelled because I was in pain. You didn’t give me time to prepare before you–”

“What did you say?” he cuts me off, and I blink.

“When?”

“Just now.”

“Um…” I frown. “You’re an idiot?”

“Not that part. The other thing.”

“I was in pain?”

“It was before that,” he mumbles.

“Oh, I said–” I pause, and my heart trips over itself.

Did I really say that? Oh no.

I feel my eyes get wide, and I look back at Ed who is watching me closely.

“I said, um…”

“You said you’re in love with me,” he finishes finally. “Right?”

“Well…” I swallow, and I feel heat lick my face. “I think, technically, I said I was in love with an idiot…”

“But I’m the only idiot you know, right?”

“St-statistically, that isn’t necessarily true. I mean, I know a lot of people, and more than likely several of them are–”

“Oh my God, you’re such a nerd.”

“Shut up,” I hiss, ducking my head.

“Just…let me fix your arm.”

“Okay.” I hold my wrist out to him and avoid eye contact as he makes his adjustments.

“Sorry if this hurts again.”

He puts pressure on a spot by my thumb, and I wince. Reaching out with my other hand for something to keep me from collapsing, I find his elbow and cling to him for balance.

“Shit,” he whispers. “Give me a second. I just need to…”

He grabs a screwdriver from the table and returns his focus to the automail while my fingers remain tightly curled around his arm.

“There,” he says gently. “Better?”

I’m hesitant to move it after the excruciating jolt from a second ago. Another one of those will bring me to my knees for sure.

“Here,” he murmurs, taking my automail hand in both of his. “I’m just going to try to rotate it.”

“Okay.”

He moves it carefully, and I watch, holding my breath. When it doesn’t hurt, I nod, and he turns it again more quickly.

“I think that worked,” I say quietly as I exhale.

“It was just jammed. A fall like you mentioned could’ve caused it. I’ll just need to make a note of how it happened, so I can adjust my design.”

“Thank you, Ed.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He moves away, and I suddenly feel nervous. I watch as he returns the screwdriver to the workbench, and then I grab his hand without thinking.

“What?” He blinks, turning back to me.

“Um…just… Nothing.” I let go, and look away, a new flush climbing up my neck. “I just… I was going to say, um…”

“Yes?”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel that way,” I blurt. “I mean, if you don’t like me like that.”

“Oh.” He nods.

“I mean, I understand. I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, and I don’t want to make things weird between us–”

“Shut up, Winry.”

“Right.” I press my lips together and start to leave. “I should go.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“What?” I look back up at him.

“I…I was trying to say you don’t have to… I mean, you don’t have to explain… I-I–”

“You what, Ed?”

“Fuck it.”

I open my mouth to ask what that is supposed to mean, but then he’s moving toward me. Fast. I blink, and his hand curls around my hip, and suddenly he’s kissing me.

Oh.

It lasts half a second, and then I realize I need to kiss him back.

So, I do.

Immediately, his hand slides around my neck, and he groans against me. My arm curls around his waist, and I sigh against his lips.

A knock from the doorway surprises us, and we instantly separate.

“Well,” says Al smugly. “It’s about damn time.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ed glares at him, his hand still on my waist.

“Don’t ruin the moment, Brother.”

Ed looks ready to lay into him, but Alphonse walks off before he can.

“Ignore him,” I say softly. “He’s just teasing you.”

“I know,” he growls, “but it’s still irritating.”

“Granny said she’s making stew by the way!” Al calls from down the hall.

“Be there in a minute!” I shout back at him.

“Stew is good,” Ed comments starting for the door. “I’m starving.”

“Ed, wait.” I tug on his arm. “What does this mean?”

“What does what mean?” He tilts his head at me.

“You kissed me?” I shift my weight.

“Oh yeah. Well, um…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I figured you like me, and I like you, and we’ll just…see what happens, I guess.”

“Oh good. I just wanted to be sure. Let’s go eat.”

“Fuck yeah.”

He starts for the door, and I follow him.

“You know,” I tell him on the stairs, “if we aren’t telling Granny yet, I’ll probably need to fake some automail injuries to give me a reason to visit more often.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he mutters. “As long as they’re fake.”

“Oh, but Granny will be able to spot a false injury, so I’ll just have to find a way to break my automail on purpose.”

“What!” he sputters, tripping on a stair. “No! Don’t you dare!”

I walk faster down the steps as he yells after me.

“Winry, you’re kidding, right? Winry?”

Pressing my lips together to keep from laughing, I make my way to the kitchen where I fix a bowl for Ed along with my own. I’ll put him out of his misery when we sit down. I’m not that cruel. I know how important automail is to him. I just also enjoy riling him up, the same way he does me.

“There’s never a dull moment with you two, is there?” Granny says as she sits down at the table.

I grin and sit down across from her. “I certainly hope not, but only time will tell.”

And I really look forward to finding out.

#fmasecretsanta2019 #edwin #edward elric #winry rockbell #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #edwin fic #my edwin #fanfiction by me #gift fic #time will tell #fueled by fire #otp: tears of joy

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heartfeltheart · 5 years ago

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Alchemy: Magic Vs. Science

Chapters: 19/25 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Series: Part 1 of 9. Summary: Magic and Science, are they the same or are they completely different? It just takes one person to point out all up and downs. Along with breaking the stereotypes that come up with being a wizard, alchemist and most of all being human. Thank you, @amynchan! D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

“English and Edward’s accented voice.” “Amestrian or another foreign language.” “Written notes.” ‘Thoughts.’ First Name: Informal Last Name: Formal (Or used to annoy others)

"And this is... Alchemy in one of its finest points..."

The sound of hands clapping together reverberated around the room, an electric discharge the color of blue came from the hands onto a pile of metal, wires and other random items. The moment the light dispersed to reveal a functioning Cuckoo clock. The clock struck a new hour and out came the... what appears to be a young version Mr. Elric batting around a bat.

"Really...? Really...?" Edward deadpanned, he resisted the urge to facepalm at his superior's creation. Was it necessary to create the mini version of him swinging around a bat? No. Did the presentation show one of the many possibilities of Alchemy? Yes. Yes, it did. With a chuckle, remembering how he would add his own touch whenever he created something to his past creations. "Questions?"

"How the bloody hell did he create that?"

"This...this is...unbelievable."

"How does it work?"

"Remember what Mr. Elric taught us. The proper application requires a full understanding of chemistry and ancient alchemical theory, including to have a talent towards recognizing and manipulating the physical objects with energy, which require uncommon levels of intelligence and aptitude."

"... Could we do that?"

"Maybe one day... In the far distant future." Edward waved off the looks of amazement. He walked over at the front of the room and stood next to Roy. He reached over to pick up the clock that was on top of a slab of wood which rested on top of a table and rested it next to it. Now he picked up the slab of wood to show it to the class. The slab of wood contained a Transmutation Circle burned into it. "This is a Transmutation circle, the coming semester, something that is needed to create everything with...Alchemy."

"Are you going to teach us that?"

"No. None of you are at the level required to even start learning Transmutation Circles. Once classes start once more, the main topic I am going to teach all of you is...Rebound..." The way Edward said that the last word sent an ominous shiver down all his students spines. "The forces that are being manipulated when using Alchemy...are not human in origin the consequences for attempting to bypass the Law of Equivalent Exchange in transmutation are not merely a failure. When too much is attempted out of too little, a Rebound occurs. The alchemical forces are thrown out of balance on their side of the equation fluctuate wildly of their own accord in order stabilize themselves-taking or giving more than interned in often unpredictable and catastrophic ways such as... accidental mutation, serious injury or even death. Terrence? Question?"

"Sir... have you ever seen any of that happen before...?"

Edward put the clock back on the table with a heavy sigh. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose wondering how he could answer that. There are many ways he could answer that question or he could sweep it under the rug completely. No, they needed to see the result of trying to do something completely stupid. "...What I am going to show you must not leave this room. Understood?"

Edward thanked Truth for the fact Rolanda and Quirinus are not in the room.

Roy watched Edward with watchful eyes, suspicion filled within him seeing that familiar look in the younger man's eyes. "You sure about this?"

"I'm just going to show them my automail. Telling them the story behind it... maybe at a later time."

-.-

Silence fell over them, they ate their lunch slowly and methodically. Chewing on their food while they thought over what they saw earlier and the new tidbit of information on their teacher. Their teacher did something that was against the Law of Alchemy and he is living with that consequences every day. Are they still going to study alchemy? Yes, of course, they are. They came this far and they are not going to back out any time soon. The only problem they have is... how in Merlin's beard does that legwork? They never saw anything like it before and it wasn't like any other kind of prosthetics they've seen before.

"How do you think it works?"

"It has to be connected to his nervous system. It moves around as an actual leg does."

"The nervo what?"

"It's like this..."

With that, everything went back to a sense of normalcy.

-.-

"GET AWAY FROM MEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Come Now, Edward!"

"I don't need a hug from you of all people!"

"Can't we ever have a day without this happening?" Mustang facepalm into his gloved hand, he peeked through his fingers to see a shirtless Major Armstrong trying to hug the screaming Colonel Elric. He glanced over his shoulder to see Elric's class and fellow instructors to see them watching the scene with mixed expressions. The fact that a lot of them looked bored and not bothered about the scene before them... Amestris is already getting to them. "Major Armstrong! Colonel Elric!"

Elric did not stop running away from Armstrong, he changed his course to run over towards the General and hid behind him. "Get him away from me!"

Fortunately for Elric, Armstrong stopped chasing after him and saluted, sparkles surrounding him still. "It just brings me great joy to see Edward Elric being a teacher!"

"Please tell him to stop chasing me...? Please?" Elric asked with mass hysteria in his eyes, he kept tugging on Mustang's uniform pleadingly. "Please?"

"Why am I here again?" Mustang muttered under his breath, resisting the urge to facepalm. This was something he was so not looking forward to.

"You and Major Armstrong are supposed to give a live demonstration to my class..."

"...Truth..."

-.-

Flame Alchemist vs Strong Arm Alchemist

A fight that is of epic proportions to the students and two magical instructors. They have never seen anything like it, nothing compared to what is occurring in front of their eyes. Some could feel the heat emitting from the flames or the rush of air from the soaring rocks that flew towards the fire. How both combatants are able to use alchemy in such a way has their minds boggling at all the possibilities and possible future for them.

Snap.

Punch.

Snap.

Blast!

Repeat.

"Amestris State Alchemists, all candidates undergo an extensive examination process involving a written test proving a high level of aptitude in the field, a psychological evaluation to determine whether the candidate is of sound enough mind to serve in such a specialized branch of the military and a practical examination in which the candidate proves to a military board whether or not his or her skills can be used in real-world situations." Edward explained to his students the procedure of becoming a State Alchemists. He stuffed a hand into his head and gripped his silver pocket watch, remembering the time he had taken such test. "Upon acceptance into the program, they are awarded a certificate of achievement marked with a symbolic title decided upon by the Fuhrer based on the newly accepted State Alchemist unique alchemical skills as well as their personal and dispositional traits."

"Flame Alchemist?"

"General Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, is versed in standard physical transmutation, experimental theory, and biological alchemy. Fire-based combat style of alchemy, see those gloves he's wearing?" After quick nods and mummers of yes, Edward continued. "They help him manipulate the air to do what he is doing right now. If you ask him, he might answer a few questions. Don't push him about it."

"Strong Arm Alchemist?"

".... Major Armstrong, Strong Arm Alchemist, utilizes a combat alchemy that has apparently been passed down the Armstrong line for generations and mixes alchemical skill with physical prowess. He uses those metal gauntlets strapped to his fists to transmute objects by punching them. If you want to know more but end up losing your mind in the process, go ask him. I will not be held responsible if such event occurs..."

"...What is wrong with him?"

"I have been asking that question myself for years. If you think that is bad, you should meet his eldest sister, that woman is one of the most terrifying women in Amestris. Better yet...the entire world."

Pause.

"One of...?"

"The others are Captain Hawkeye and Teacher..."

"Captain Hawkeye? She did not appear to be that terrifying."

"Stick around longer then you will see."

-.-

Edward munched on his dinner as he watched his students mob, Roy and Alex, asking them question after question about the performance they did earlier. Both Alchemist soaked in the attention and answered bit and pieces. They, after all, needed to hide away the secrets of their alchemy. The experience of them watching Alchemy being done in such manner opened their minds and see what they are studying first hand.

"Mr. Elric."

Edward glanced over to see Rolanda taking a seat next to him, she kept her gaze over the students. "Yeah?"

"You said you were a former State Alchemist, could you do what they did earlier?" Rolanda asked, turning her heard to look at Edward with her hawk-like eyes.

"...I... It is a very long story. The result is me not being able to do alchemy anymore." Edward stated lightly, smiling slightly at the reason behind him no longer being able to do alchemy anymore. It was worth the exchange.

"You don't have to answer if it is too personal, what did you exchange for you to no longer being capable of using alchemy?"

"...Again...long story and this one is...a personal one."

"My Alchemy has been passed down the Armstrong Family for several generations!"

Pause.

"How in Merlin's beard did he became a State Alchemist?"

"Shhh! Not so loud, do you want him to hear you? He will go on about the Armstrong Family Line for ages."

-.-

"I'll come back and visit again before I return back to work." Edward swung Elicia around in circles around the train station platform. Mrs. Hughes stood a couple steps away holding a cloth-covered basket, watching the scene with a small smile. "Be good, stay in school and if anyone picks on you...tell your Uncle Roy or Auntie Riza. They'll take care of it."

"Don't encourage her, Ed." Mrs. Hughes shook her head at Edward's words.

"What? I won't be in the country, and I can't get any phone calls there." Edward explained as if what he said was nothing out of the norm. "Otherwise I would take care of the problem."

Mrs. Hughes only shook her head. "Of course."

The woman smiled at the young man and extended the basket out to him. "For the trip, down to Resembool."

Edward places Elicia back down on the ground, the girl giggles as she keeps a grasp on her brother's pants to no fall. The Golden Blonde reached over and took the basket and he smelled that familiar scent of apple pies filled his nose. Such a pleasant scent. "Thank you, they smell amazing!"

"Are you ready to go, Fullmetal?"

Edward, Mrs. Hughes, and Elicia turned to see Roy and his unit standing in front of them. The Sandy Blonde girl smiled brightly and ran over to Roy and hugged him. "Uncle Roy!"

Roy smiled hugely at the girl and patted her on the head. "There's my favorite Squirrel Scout."

Elicia's cheeks puff out. "It's Lion Scout! Lion Scout!"

"Gasp-Of course it is! How could I forget such detail~" Roy chastised himself for forgetting such detail. He glanced over at Riza and gave her a silent command. "Hawkeye, Havoc, why don't you two take Gracia and Elicia home. It's getting late."

"Of course, Sir!"

Both soldiers gave Edward either a salute or nod before they escorted the Hughes family back to their home.

"Bye Little Brother!" Elicia called out, waving at Edward.

Edward waved back with a small smile, the smile disappeared once she was out of sight. Glancing over at his shoulder to give his superior a bored look, the Golden Blonde could only wonder what the man is about to inform him. "What?"

"I have people stationed along the tracks, try not to get into trouble."

-.-

The train ride from Central to Resembool was filled with random games, eating pies, homework, eating pies, sleeping and once more... eating pies. This time around, Mr. Elric had fallen asleep clutching onto his suitcase. It is worth mentioning he kept muttering under his breath something about...wrench of doom...? Interesting.

"Does he live out in the country?"

"Naw, he has to live in a city or something."

"In a mansion?"

"Castle?"

"I think he lives in a small cottage in the middle of a forest and you could hear a bubbling creek nearby."

"Maybe by a river!"

"Or by a volcano."

"No. He lives in a laboratory or some sorts, him working on his alchemy."

"Mr. Elric told us he lives down the road from his fiancé, and we'll be switching our time between both homes. If not...mostly in future Mrs. Elric's home."

"I still can't believe he's getting married, he's still young!"

"...In the Magical Community... It is rather common to see a student from the more... restricted pureblood families... get married off the moment they leave Hogwarts. Do you believe that could be happening here?"

"Naw, from what Mr. Elric told us, he'd know his fiancé almost his entire life and said that she's his mechanic. Whatever that means."

"A mechanic fixes muggle machinery and everything else of that sort. Remember Mr. Elric's leg? That's a piece of machinery."

"...A mechanic? Hm..."

"What?"

"Mechanics are uneducated, dishonest, uncaring, dirty, and would purposely break parts to get more work or bulling their customers into unneeded services individuals. A mechanic...hah!" One of the students, a muggle-born Ravenclaw, huffed out in disgust. "My parents dealt with many mechanics over the years, they are all the sa-"

-.-

"Hello~" A very attractive female in her late teens waved at a group of strangely dressed schoolchildren, for Resembool, getting off a train. She has long light blonde hair tied in a high pony-tail, with long locks of hair on either side of her face and bangs, blue eyes and is wearing a short-sleeved sundress. "Hogvarts?"

The Hogwarts students and two professors wonder if this is the Alchemy Teacher's fiancé. The way said man described her to be... is not what they are seeing. She seemed...delicate, polite, and a grease monkey. Her voice is heavily accented to the point they could hardly tell what she was telling them to a point.

Suddenly, the young woman's eyes brightened at whatever was behind the group. "Edward!"

"Winry!"

Everyone turned around to see Edward stepping out of the train, grinning at the Blue-Eyed Blonde. He only took a couple of steps towards her when he was almost flung backward in a bone-wrenching hug, dropping his suitcase in the process. Edward braced himself to prevent himself to prevent himself to fall backward with Winry in his arms. Once he regained his balance, the Golden Blonde swung the Blue-Eyed Blonde around laughingly. "I thought you were going to wait at home, Winry."

"I couldn't wait, I had to see you as soon as possible. Don't worry, Granny is taking care of the pies." Winry said once Edward stopped swinging her around. "So...introduce me. I want to meet these...students of yours."

"...Don't tell me... You have no faith in me being a teacher?" Edward deadpanned.

"Hahaha. Oh, Edward... I'm just surprised you haven't killed anyone yet." Winry laughed, waving off Edward's look of despair. She reached up and grabbed hold of Edward's coat to pull him down enough to kiss him on the lips.

At that moment, everything went blank for Edward... everything just felt... perfect.

-.-

"How much longer now?"

"I can't feel my legs anymore..."

"This goes many of our ideas of his possible home..."

"At least it isn't freezing!"

"It's winter....it supposed to snow..."

"Sh! Remember, we are supposed to be camping. Camping in the snow isn't fun! Believe me... it's not fun..."

Walking up ahead of the group, Edward and Winry whispered to silently to themselves. Both all giggles and smiles but that was just a front. Pay closer attention, you could see Winry if gripping Edward's arm far too tightly and said male purposely kept his face forward to not show anyone his tears.

"Who exactly is at your house again...?" Edward asked through teary eyes.

"Your brother, Mei, Lan Fan and Ling...."

Edward stopped at a fork of a road. One road leads to the Rockbell's Residence and the other lead to his own residence. He turned over to face Winry, shoulder's tense and expression unreadable. "Who else is there?"

"You think I'm hiding something from you?" Winry questioned Edward with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest. She glared at the Golden Blonde, no once did she waver.

"It's Teacher, isn't it?"

"... I invited her and Sig. After you told me you told them we got engaged."

"How is she?"

"She's helping me with the wedding."

"Define helping...?"

-.-

Bang!

Slam!

Screams of pain!

Break!

Shouting!

The two Hogwarts professors and eight students stood in front of a two-story home with a sign in the front. It appeared to be a simple home if it weren't for the fact that Mr. Elric and Miss. Rockbell entered the home and the moment he closed the door behind himself... chaos. He had told everyone else to stay outside until he cleared whatever was inside the Rockbell residence. Apparently whatever it was... it wasn't pretty.

There was a debate about whether or not to go inside to check on the Alchemy Professor. That idea was shot down when the sounds of pain reverberated throughout the entire home.

Wait... is that silence?

SLAM!

The door was slammed open and both Mr. Elric's were thrown out of the Rockbell residence with shouts of surprise. Everyone kept their eyes on the doorway, not able to look away. It was either from fright or morbid curiosity.

Then... they saw... her?

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