FMA Angst Week

Trying make myself to draw a challenge

FMA Angst Week Day 5: Broken

While we are still accepting late submissions, I would like to thank every talented fan who contributed to this event, and to everyone else who reblogged and liked their posts. We had almost 100 contributions to Angst Week! 

Alright, here it comes. The last one. This is for @fma-angst-week day 7- Illness/Free fluff. I decided on fluff. Warnings: extreme fluffiness Anyways, without further ado, please enjoy!

     Everyone knew that Edward Elric had a temper beyond comparison. The child prodigy, Fullmetal Alchemist, and youngest member of the military made up for the lack of his height in the scalding of his anger. If one wished for an early death, he need only to make a snide comment on the alchemist’s verticle issues. There was no doubt that person would soon be visiting the nearest hospital for an expensive treatment. Yep, his short fuse was legendary. Which was why Roy Mustang could not believe his friend, Maes Hughes, for a second.

It’s a Royai Double Feature, kids!

Side A: Bullet-Proof the Lambo

For the power couple kicking ass and taking names.

Side B: A Better Man Today

For when everything hurts and nothing is okay, ever.

(Not quite an official entry for @fma-angst-week, but the b side was inspired by the overall event)

Listen on [8tracks]

Tracklist:

A/N: I made an angsty drabble about my boy, hope you enjoy.

Characters: Alphonse Elric, Edward Elric

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The room was warm… or at least he imagined it was. He hadn’t felt heat or cold for a very long time. However, Ed rested uncomfortably atop his covers, and a bead of sweat left a path down the side of his face. He looked miserable.

Al wished he could be miserably hot too.

He wished for a lot of things, only in his head of course, but by now Al knew wishes couldn’t be granted by sheer will. The world just didn’t work that way.

Still, Al reminisced the feeling of sunshine, and the way it filled your whole self with warmth, all the way down to your toes. He longed for the sensation of combing your hair… of brushing your teeth. He strained to remember the prickle of grass beneath bare feet. He wanted to eat, to sleep, to dream, to feel.

But such hopes were childish. The unchanging fact was there was no skin on his bones to seep in sunlight or stretch across fields of wildflowers. Ed was trying as hard as he could, and he didn’t need an ungrateful, melancholy little brother to tow around along with two automail limbs.

So instead, Al studied the sliver moonlight peeking through their curtains, and watched over the most important person in his life. He read books and drew out imaginary transmutation circles on the windowsill. Al mulled over each and every time he and Ed had gone wrong until he was certain if given the chance to go back in time, he could fix every problem in the entire world.

And when Ed stretched in the sunlight, asking his brother how his night was, Al would say “Fine”… making sure to lilt his tone just so, as to create a mask of indifference and cheer.

Because Al was not a child anymore, and there were people that needed him to be strong.

@fma-angst-week​ Day 6! This one took off and I had a lot of fun writing this, so enjoy (: !

Day 6: Deception

Warnings: Death, blood, language, alcohol

Characters: Pinako, Hohenheim, lots of OCs

Pairings: None

Read here or on FFN!

“You’ve done all your exercises?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? No skipping on the stretches?”

Maud flared her nostrils, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Pinako, you’ve been watching me like a hawk for the past year, I think you know damn well I haven’t been skimping.”

There was truth to that. “Well excuse me for making sure you end up with a functional leg.” Pinako stood, wiping her hands on her worksuit. All things considered, Pinako was confident about Maud’s chances. They’d been friends long before the wreck on the rail line that had taken Maud’s leg and she knew how far she could push and what would work. It was her first truly customized piece of automail, too. Her first dozen or so patients had taken some version of her master’s design; it was all she’d had time to work on, with her new, privately owned shop.

Three years of working on her own, and the custom-made model PR-001-RL was ready for use. She’d reinforced the knee and ankle to cover for Maud’s heavy labor in the engine yard, and made the shin thicker than normal to support it all. She already had plans for an upgrade- better joint work on the toes, a little more mobility on the ankle. It’d do wonders to cut down on the limp Maud would have.

And if Maud’s models all worked out, then she could use them as a baseline for other designs. Better flexibility, lighter materials, quicker nerve responses. Her mentor told her she was joining to shake the automail industry to its core. Benson liked to exaggerate and brag about her to other mechanics, but Pinako felt that he was right this time. She was just a couple months shy of thirty- plenty of time to make her mark.

Pinako eyed Maud’s port one final time. The scarring was ugly and knotted, but it was strong and there hadn’t been any tearing in weeks. Her appetite was back, her balance and strength passed muster. The doctor had given her a clean bill of health just the other day. “You ready?”

(Disclaimer): This is unedited and sucks woo

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And Then There Were Two

Riza was okay.

Elicia Hughes was getting married today and she was okay.

Winry was dancing with Edward, and Rebecca was dancing with Jean, and little Elicia, now grown, was dancing with her new husband.

Riza wasn’t dancing. She was okay with that fact. Completely.

The wine in her hand was stale, and draft from the open door behind her caused goosebumps to prickle down her arms, but that was just fine.

She was past forty now, and still had only an empty house to come home to, (and her dog, of course). In fact, Hayate was there so really it was all perfectly okay.

Al bounced his and Mei’s new baby on his knee, as his brother’s children ran giggling circles around their table. Their little girl was named Trisha, after the boys’ mother.

Riza had planned to do the same.

But nevermind that. She was to old to bear children now and that was that. She was one hundred percent okay.

The world swirled around her at the edge of the dance floor, seeming to move a mile a minute, but really, Riza was okay.

“Care to join me Colonel?”

And then she wasn’t.

The Fuhrer approached slowly, attempting a smile. He was bad at faking.

They didn’t dance, because in that moment it would simply hurt too much. Instead they went through the open door and into the chilly air, where the overwhelming… joy… coming from inside was at a more bearable distance.

He gave her his coat, because that’s what friends do.

They talked about anything and everything aside besides themselves, from the weather, to the upcoming board meeting.

Their hands brushed twice, but only their pinkies found themselves intertwined.

Being there, with him, suitcoat warming her shivering arms… it was nice.

     Hello everyone! Thank you for taking an interest in my tiny fic. This is for @fma-angst-week day 1- Penance.      My only warnings would be a depressed character (obviously, I mean this is angst week), vulgar language, and a pretty heavy topic on death and guilt so… yeah. Also, I do have an OC in here. Sorry about that. I’ll explain why at the end.      Ok then, this is the first time I’ve ever posted something on Tumblr so… Yeah, enjoy!

     The rain pounded on the stain glassed windows, like little hands begging to be let in, while lightning flashed, staining the inside of the temple for brief seconds with vivid patterns of colors. The spring storms of Central City were considered barely contained natural disasters. Anyone who dared to be outside after work hours was unanimously deemed insane.

     So, it came as a shocking surprise to Elder Mark, when he had stepped out of a hidden door behind the Eldest’s pulpit, to see a figure outlined by the streetlights standing at the threshold of the doorway. He’d gasped at first and one of his hands had flown to his chest. Now, though his heart still tried to escape the nervewracking situation, he strode down the steps toward the aisle.

     “Goddess bless.” He gave the usual greeting, giving a warm and hopefully welcoming smile. “Is there something you are in need of?”

Hello again! Back for round two? This is for @fma-angst-week day 2- Failure.

Warnings: Nothing really. There’s like one curse word I think. This is really more of a retake on the scene in episode 16 of Brotherhood. I just thought it’d be interesting to get Riza’s point of view on all of it. Plus, this may be considered one of her biggest failures (in her eyes at least). And, if you want to squint really hard, there’s a tiny bit of Royai in there. Ok, well please enjoy!

     Riza’s hands shook as she tried to level her pistol, finger pulling at the useless trigger. Her clip was empty.

     “Are you quite done yet?” The woman, that bitch, Lust, Barry had called her, drawled. The bullet holes Riza had put into her chest and head were healing, red arcs of lightning flashing and sizzling around the closing wounds. She wasn’t really sure why she was still trying. It was hopeless. She was out of ammo. She’d used up every bullet in her three pistols. Maybe her mind couldn’t comprehend the thought of giving up and leaving this world without a fight, or perhaps it was more out of a mindless desperation to deny what Lust had told her. He couldn’t be dead. The Colonel, he… She’d swore she would protect him so he couldn’t… it was impossible… he…

     Tears were streaking down her face and her arms slacked, falling to her sides. The floor was harsh and unforgiving to her knees as she collapsed. Her throat was raw from her screaming. This couldn’t be it. It couldn’t. He couldn’t be dead. Sobs racked her trembling body, tearing the air from her lungs as she fought against reality.

Day 3- Scars for @fma-angst-week. Oh boy, another one. Sorry, but the only thing I’m kinda good at for this is writing, so voila! Warnings: Scars are described in some detail so if that wigs you out please don’t read. Also, talks about death.

I guess you could see edwin if you tilt your head just right…

Ok, well enjoy!

     Winry Rockbell has seen a lot of scars in her time as an Automail Mechanic. Plenty of people have them (from work, surgeries, past injuries), but she’d never met someone with as many as Edward Elric.

     Scars are permanently tattooed over his body. There’s the largest and most visible of them on his shoulder, right where the automail port used to be, then the less visible but still monstrous one on his thigh where the automail leg connects, and thousands of smaller ones she’d heard varying degrees of stories for. They decorated his torso, right leg, and left arm in jagged, crisscrossing lines. There was even one placed on his forehead, just above his right brow. The ones she hated the most though were twins, mirroring one another over his left hip: one on his stomach, the other on his back.

Alright guys, day 4- Death/Sacrifice for @fma-angst-week . Oh, this one’s going to be so angsty and fun!

Warnings: Obviously death, some mention of blood, and vulgar language. This is definitely a “what if” type of fic, so please enjoy!

     Ed stared at Al’s armor, brain scrambling to fully process what had happened. The Promised Day had come. They’d all fought a god, technically speaking, and Ed had defeated said god. And he had his arm back because Al had given up his soul for it. Al was gone. He’d sacrificed himself to save Ed. And now it was Ed’s turn to sacrifice something for Al again.

     His soul had to be with his body now, trapped with the Truth on the other side of the gate. If Ed could find something equivalent to a body and a soul, he could bring Al back. But what could be worth the price of life? His brain jumped from solution to solution, each more implausible than the last. Ling had offered his Philosopher’s Stone, willing to throw away his opportunity to become Emperor for his beloved friend, but Ed found he had to refuse. He couldn’t use a Philosopher’s Stone on Al, not when he’d promised him they’d never use another life as the price for their mistakes. But that was the only way to pay for Al, wasn’t it? What would be better: losing Al forever to the Truth, or having him alive, ultimately despising his brother for not keeping his promise? Ed selfishly wanted neither, and he didn’t want the damned souls to suffer any more than they already were, eternally encased in that stone. He clawed through his brain, trying to pull some kind of answer out of there. Come on, he was the Fullmetal Alchemist, a child prodigy, he had to know this. He had to find a way.

Another round for @fma-angst-week . This is day 5- Broken. Warnings: for your angsty pleasure we have blood, death, mutilation, gore, body horror (kinda, I guess? I mean I’m using a chimera but it doesn’t go into a lot of detail there), and vulgar language (as per usual). Ok then, I hope you find some semblance of enjoyment in this!

     Ed’s stomach still churned even hours later. The blatant lack of regret, the sick satisfaction, the twisted sense of sustentation. It all made him want to beat the bastard bloody and drop him at Truth’s feet, let the “god” sort him out. But he couldn’t. Nina made him promise not to hurt him.

     Ed bit down on the knuckle hovering in front of his mouth. He couldn’t believe there was a father out there that was worse than his. His old man had held the prize for years, but Shou Tucker had just today snatched it away. And Nina. He had to use Nina. It was bad enough he’d used a human to create a complex chimera, but to use his own daughter- 

     Ed’s stomach heaved and he pressed the knuckle he’d been biting hard over his lips, keeping whatever he had left in his stomach where it belonged. He just couldn’t understand how Tucker could go through with it. How could he not at least pause in the middle of what he was doing, look into Nina’s frightened yet trusting eyes, and not hesitate or question if what he was doing was really right? Was he truly that much of a monster? That insane of a man?

     “Edward.” Ed snapped his head up to see the Lieutenant Colonel standing beside the opened door. She inclined her head. “The Colonel wants a report on what you’ve witnessed.” Ed gave a solemn nod and moved away from the wall he was leaning against.

     “Am I supposed to come too?” Al asked, straightening up. Hawkeye’s sharp vision held him for a moment before making her decision.

     “There’s no need, Alphonse,” she replied, voice brooking absolutely no room for argument. “Your brother’s report will be enough.” With that she stepped to the side, allowing Ed access to enter. He trudged in.