Chapter seven! Yeeah, this story is actually moving along! Thanks to everyone who reviewed me, and I hope no one will mind if I put a review reply up here for the anonymous "TooLazyToSignIn :)"
You said: I was reading this and thinking, "Wow, portions of this remind me of 'Dealing With Roy Mustang.'" Then I looked at the author and realized it's the same person! Yay!! I like this a lot though I do hope Ed doesn't change, he's cool the way he is! Only thing I could think of that might help a bit is the journal entries are a bit confusing in terms of who is writing which one. I figured out (I think) that more than one person is writing entries but it's hard to tell immediately when they switch and which is which. Just putting something like:
Roy -
blah, blah, blah,
Ed-
blah, blah, blah,
would really help though there are other things you could do as well if you wanted. Anyway, aside from that you're really talented and I enjoy reading your work! Keep it up:) :)
Ha. That's funny that it should remind you of my other story...I wonder what bits I wrote the same?
I'm sorry if it's hard for you to read, but I wanted the diaries to be just a tiny bit mysterious, unclear. So I did it on purpose.
But I will say this: Roy Mustang does not keep a diary. XD Thanks for the review!
"One more time, remember the color," Giolio instructed from his perch in a tree. They'd moved outdoors when he'd decided Edward was ready to incorporate alchemy into his drills.
The hardest part for both of the alchemists was figuring out the alchemy- Giolio was only interes ted in transmuting metals so it was pretty much all he knew how to do, while Ed could do anything the man asked but "MustacheBooby" didn't know what he was asking. For some reason, Giolio was also having trouble reaching Colonel Mustang so he coudln't even ask the man what exactly Ed was supposed to do during the parade.
So for now he had Ed transmuting flowers and confetti and bright bursts of color. Occasionally when Ed got ticked off, he'd also toss some fruit into the mix, hoping it would pelt his harrasser.
Ed was now using a staff of his own design instead of the rifle and he spun it like a regular baton twirler, sending alchemic sparks and petals up through it and letting the centrifugal force it was creating send them flying in all directions.
"Now hurry up and change. You've got three minutes to be back with your squad."
Ed transmuted a cubicle to change in, transmuting hte wrinkles out of his shirt. He lowered the walls and ran like hell, almost bowling over Sgt. BootFace as he scurried into place. The man grabbed the back of his shirt and Ed swore under his breath.
"Give me twenty pushups, NOW!"
Ed mentally rolled his eyes. Was it so easy for people to tell what he hated doing? Mustang would always ask him to get files from hte top shelves whenever he asked for assistance and the Sgt's always chose is least favorite e xercise. It just felt so humiliating to have to turn his back on everyone so he couldn't see them and then have to get down on the ground below them. Why did no one ever ask him to do sit-ups? At least then he could watch his back and protect himself from oncoming attacks.
Red-faced, he joined his squad members.
As they marched out to the obstacle course, Dorian and Mitchell started crowding and elbowing him and Ed saw red. He'd had just about enough of these assholes giving him dirty looks and being so damn tall and pushing him around whenever they got the chance.
The Sergeant spoke up to explain what they would be doing today, saving two squad members from certain death by distracting a third. As he explained that they would be crawling on their elbows through mud under a barbed wire grid though, Ed couldn't help but smile. Today was going to be a very good day.
Edward stepped up eagerly to his starting position, radiating a confidence that disturbed Mitchell and a few others. The FullMetal Alchemist had crawled through enough escape tunnels, vents, air ducts and other various small places that there was no doubt in his mind he could get through this faster than anyone else here. Best yet, the fastest soldier throughout the day got the first shower, which Ed had been denied for more than a week now.
Sgt. BootFace blew a whistle and Ed flopped onto his stomach. Of course Dorian tried to play dirty by getting too close and trying to block Ed, but he didn't realize that the small blond had vertical wiggle room like no one else there and could therefore afford the elevation it cost him to climb over the other soldier.
Ed couldn't help but push aside his non-violent inner Al and delight in the act of digging his elbows into the other soldier's shoulder, scooting over him.
Oh, yes. A very good day.
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DAMN CORRUPT MILITARY BASTARDS! I was the fastest on every run but I still had to shower last, dammit! And Dorian soaked my pillow in the showers while I wasn't looking. They're just lucky I'm trying not to be difficult. If it wasn't for Hawkeye, I would have those guys hanging from the flagpole by their underwear in under ten seconds, mark my words!
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"One more week, one more week, one more week. What I wouldn't give to be able to say that to Ed instead of myself. I don't know quite why I feel so edgy, as if time is going too slowly. I wish this week would speed up so I could know Ed wouldn't have time to snap again or break.
I had a dream last night. An old memory from training came back to me. I think it was the first time the Sergeant slapped me for talking back. I couldn't keep my mouth shut back then- the fact that because I was a woman and I had trouble running long distances, he always put me in the back or ignored me often provoked me to the point of arguing with him. Which is a no-no I dearly hope Edward doesn't learn the way I did.
I was given extra chores and labor and denied basic priveleges, taunted and put down by the squad leader and ostracized by the entire squad. I don't blame Falman or Breda or Ross. Maria was a woman too and she did her absolute best to ensure she wasn't punished as I was. Falman didn't know me at all and preferred to keep out of the way, while Breda disapproved of my apparent lack of self-control. Later, it was he more than Mustang who taught me how to keep my mouth shut and my face straight.
I know Ed won't come out of this unmarked, but I don't think it's too much to ask that he come out of this without feeling different than he used to."
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I got sick from sleeping on a wet pillow-, Ed fell asleep.
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Blech, wet pillows nasty. R&R please!