It's been a bad couple of months. The biggest reason was going back and looking at my other story (The one with the horrible OC- oh you'll know it when you see it) and think 'OH GOOD GOD THIS IS THE WORST PILE OF DOG CRAP MY EYES HAVE EVER LAID EYES ON.' That was breakdown city. And then I got all determined to write something new and I just couldn't pick myself up. So, you know what? Here it is. All of the crap and plotlines that have been going through my brain. You might understand some of it, and you might not. But you clicked the link. Does this even count as a Fan fiction? WHO THE HELL KNOWS. I'll be Charles Dickens if it did.
Disclaimer: Did you hear about the last chapter of Fullmetal and how it was revoked from being published? Hm? No? Oh, then that means I don't own FMA. (Seriously, Chapter 102 WTF? Whatever. On with the drabbles.)
"It's like I don't know anything anymore. Like the whole world is turning and I'm just kind of in the same spot watching it go on without me. I haven't slept, or eaten, I can't go out anymore without looking around and thinking about everything that's happened. I've got a million little reminders on every tick of the clock about why I'm here, and I can't seem to shake the feeling that something is escaping me. She's everywhere; and it's killing me. It's KILLING me inside. There's so much fuck in my head and it's DRIVING ME INSANE. Do you know what that's like? Do you have any idea what that's like?"
Alphons was scared now, and Ed could tell because he could feel him shaking as he held him up against the wall by the collar of his shirt.
Great. I've managed to isolate the only human being in this world who even remotely trusts me. I must be really gifted.
"I'm…The Anti-Sue," she growled, putting her full weight up against the door to block the onslaught of girls behind it.
"That's ridiculous," Ed scoffed.
"No, it's true. I'm not witty or sarcastic in a lovable way, I do not have a sadistic side that makes me easy to relate to, and my randomness is not cute. It's just weird."
Ed narrowed his eyes.
"Missing limbs?"
"None."
"Family?"
"Alive and well."
"Past."
"Uh, I accidentally hit my dog muffin with a rock once. Does that count as dark and mysterious?"
"How many times a day do you angst?"
"What's an 'angst'?"
"She's a monster," Al whispered, horrified.
"Ok, Ok, I'm putting you down Al," Trisha laughed, drooping the baby into the height chair as he sucked delightedly on a bent spoon. Ed pushed aside a chair at the table with a creak (1) and climbed up on to it. His nose barely went past the tabletop. Al stared over at him, then, after a few seconds, pulled the spoon out of his mouth with a wet popping noise, looked over at his mother, and said, "Cookies."
She smiled, and chuckled with her back turned to the table as she stirred the oatmeal in the pot, "No, Al. No cookies for breakfast."
"But Bwothwr had them!" Trisha turned towards the table, her hands already on her hips. The crumbs surrounded the chair, and the eldest of her sons was glaring at her youngest.
"Traitor," Ed hissed.
Sitting there, on the fence. She waves to him. Unsteadily, and cautiously, he waves back. This makes her laugh for some reason, and it sounds like he's dipping in and out of a tunnel because the wind is blowing so hard that it's whipping the blonde hair into her face and making the grass ripple like the sea. He's never seen the sea before, he realizes, and this makes him laugh for a reason he doesn't quite understand himself. And then he is laughing with the girl on the fence, the prettiest girl he's ever remembered.
"I can fix this thing." She stares, unbelieving, with a little urge in her to roll her eyes.
"Don't you trust me?" He says, laughing with both of their hands on the cord under the lid of the car.
"Well, yes," she says quietly. "Of course I trust you, Colonel." And suddenly without warning the atmosphere takes a far more serious tone, and then they're just two people, standing in a barren street in the middle of the night with an electricity running through their fingers that has nothing to do with the car beside them that will not run. He turns to look up at her slowly, and they stand there for a few seconds, staring each other down under the streetlight because he is caught a little off guard. She looks at him through determined eyes, and the silence is deafening.
'Godammit all,' he thinks to himself, and leans forward in a rush.
And then she's the one caught off guard.
She cries a lot.
Not voluntarily, because since you left, she's trying more and more to be like you. But she cries in her sleep. I'll come in and she'll just be there on her bed, sobbing her eyes out, and I'll have to go over there and wake her up because I'm afraid that she'll choke on her own tears in her sleep.
She still loves you. More than anything. And it's even worse because what's killing her the most is not knowing if you're still alive or not. The military made a grave for you. They put it right next to moms, but Granny refused to let them put any kind of death date on it or anything, because they had no body. So now it just sits there, blank, like some sardonic symbol of the fact that you're not standing in front of it, but you're not buried below it either. I hate it. Winry stopped making automail. She stopped doing anything. All she does is sit out on the porch on the roof with eyes that could compete with the dead and stares out into nowhere, just for hours. I hate you, brother. I wish you were dead. But I want you to be alive. I want you to come back. It's a feeling that's literally killing me inside. There's this picture of you that sits on her desk, and she'll throw it at the wall and scream terrible things, and collapse on the floor and just cry like she'll never run out of tears, and then crawl through the glass and tape the picture back up again. She's done it so many times that you can't even tell it's you in the picture anymore. You and your fucking unmarked grave. I'm begging you, just die or come back, Brother. Please.
Rule #5,719: Thou shall not give thy plots of thy story-eth away-eth in thy title…eth.:
48. Ed Cheats on Winry!!!111one!11 by Kawaiidesunekochankun reveiws
Winry is mad at Ed! But WHY??!?!??!? Click here to find out! Rated K for KAWAII!!
Rule #962: Thou shall not use Japanese dialogueth in thou Fanficitoneth.
"Edo-Kun-chan-san-sama!...desu! Envy-sama-kun-chan kidnapped Winry-Kun-sama-desu! What are we going to do?!!" Al sobbed.
"AL STOP CRYING THIS IS A SMALL ROOM YOU'RE GOING TO DROWN US!" Ed yelled angrily.
"Oh Edo-Kun-desu-kawaii-chan! I'm SO CONCERNED FOR OUR FRIEND!!!!"
"Don't worry Al-sama-kun-chan-whatever! We'll just mahō no yō ni hensō suru tame no niji no ponīabata sei no hi ni kikoku suru to rāmen Winryni wa 100man pondo wo taberu no !! yoroshii desu ka??" Al sniffled.
"Hai." (2)
Rule #254: Thou shall not pay attentioneth to doth ads on thee fanfiction bareth.
Trust me, YOU WILL GO INSANE.
Similarities Between John Steinbeck's East of Eden and Fullmetal Alchemist:
Envy vs Cathy/Kate/Catherine/ I swear to God stop changing your name:
Envy and Psycho over here find that their whole reason for living is in question at an earlier age, and Cal soon discovers that Cathy feels she is above the human race because she does not see the good in people, only the bad, and tortures people only to expose what they really are: EVIL. Then, he also realizes that Cathy is LYING, and that she REALLY tortures people because she is JELOUS of them because she was never able to feel the courage or love that other people have. Thus, ENVY. (2)
Cal and Aron Trask VS Edward and Alphonse Elric:
Twins who lost their mother at a very young age with a neglecting father and friends with the neighbor who is their age and a girl. GO FIGURE
He woke up talking.
Sitting up in his bed, the echo of the words he muttered reached farther through his mind then in the room, and for a moment, it was utterly silent. Turning tiredly, Ed blinked at the empty bed that had been shoved into a corner beside him in the room that was too small for the extra bulk. The blankets rustled, and he struggled to escape the sheets that had found themselves wrapped around his legs too tightly. Swinging his legs over them and pressing them down on to the cold floor, he called it out, louder this time.
"Al?"
There was no answer.
The bed had been slept in, but no one was in it. The blankets had piled up on the floor. Ed stood up, but staggered back as bright lights filled his vision. He waited until they disappeared. 'Shouldn't have stood up too fast,' he thought to himself, walking across the floor slowly. The boards under him creaked as he trudged out into the hall. Tiptoeing to Winry's room, he pushed the door slowly open. She was sprawled across the mattress in a way that almost made him laugh, with her chest rising and falling and the sound of her breathe filling up the room. He cracked a grin, and closed the door silently.
The bathroom was empty.
Venturing down the stairs, Ed's ears perked up when he heard a noise coming from the kitchen, and a light streaming from the door. He called out quietly again.
"Is that you Alphonse?"
Slowly, in his bare feet, Ed pushed the door open.
Al was there, at the table, crying. The fridge door was open and the light illuminated the tears on his face.
"Al? What's wrong?"
There, in front of the younger boy, was a single plate. Ed got closer, and for a moment, was stunned. And then he smiled. He was close enough to hear what Al had been crying.
"Brother, look…Winry…she m-made it for me…"
On the plate was a single slice of Apple pie.
(1)YOU know that creak that chairs make.
(2)If you wanna translate it, go ahead, but I did it reverse and it didn't come out the same way, so I'll just tell you: "We'll just eat a million pounds of ramen and Winry will come back to us on a magical rainbow pony made of Pocky! OK?"
(3)East of Eden: School book.
If you feel like R&R-ing, then be my guest. I don't know how the hell you got all the way to the bottom of this, though.