10 fma_fic_contest Stories
Title: A New Daily Routine
Prompt 164: pills
Series: any/all
Word Count: 336
Rating: PG
Characters: Izumi & Sig
Summary: Izumi had always been a healthy person.
Warnings: none
[This was for a blind challenge round.]
Before she had witnessed the Truth, Izumi had been perfectly healthy. She had trained hard, worked hard, eating and loving well.
Within a week of her transgression, she became better acquainted with doctors and examines, tests and treatments than she imagined the entire rest of her life had made her. The effects an alchemic rebound could wreck on the body were something strange and beyond the bounds of ordinary medical science.
All the local doctor could do was, as she had expected, come up with a regimen to manage her symptoms. Izumi understood. Her case was beyond unusual. The little white paper bag the pharmacist placed her bottles of pills in was light, and yet it still felt like the heaviest thing she had ever carried. Sig offered to hold it for her and Izumi accepted.
That evening she sat at the kitchen corner sorting out the schedule she would follow in taking them. This one, one twice a day; that other, just a half once a day, and so forth. Just like that- another routine for daily living.
If she took her case to some expert in Central (there had to be someone- at least one person- within the national military-industrial complex who worked within the area of overlap between alchemy and medicine, it was possible that she might receive an alternate form of treatment, but there was obviously no going back. No "cure."
And there was no way she would make that trip. She couldn't imagine any way she could receive that expert diagnosis without the cause being recognized and understood. Unwanted military attention would be quick to follow, and that was something Izumi could not allow. ...Even if she did, there was always the possibility that there was nothing more anyone could offer her than a life of regular follow-up exams and a handful of pills.
That she had Sig and their love for one another was enough. She'd take her pills promptly every day. There were plenty of things worth living for.
Title: Childish Things
Prompt 166: “I need to let you go."
Series: manga/Brotherhood
Word Count: 644
Rating: G
Characters: Mei Chang & family
Summary: Mei leaves home.
Warnings: none
"Surely, I am no longer such a little girl that I need to bring you along with me on this trip, Ai Ming," Mei addressed the pretty doll sitting on her bed beside the bag her Chang Clan grandparents (the only grandparents she had ever known) had packed for her with care. She remained "little" only in the sense of her size. She was almost twelve years old now (her coming birthday would most likely pass while she trekked across the desert).
Xiao Mei sniffed at her pack, curious as to what sort of hardy snacks might be contained within for their journey. Ai Ming's painted eyes stared up at her owner. Even a girl her age, Mei reasoned, could be a bit sentimental when it came to a toy like Ai Ming. She was something more than a mix of wood and paint and cloth. Her mother, Imperial Concubine Feiyan, had made and decorated Ai Ming herself as a gift for her only child.
Ai Ming was more of a little mother character than a sister or a baby like most dolls. If Xiao Mei was her wild companion, Ai Ming was her gentle one, a piece of Mei's mother who was always available to her daughter. "You are much too adult to be sad without me, Ai Ming," Mei continued (for Ai Ming's sake, of course, and as a substitute for saying so to the others she was leaving behind, not for her own), "You will find it as glorious as every other member of the Chang Clan when I return home with our salvation in hand."
Xiao Mei was getting a bit too close to finding her way into where some of their rations were being kept. "Xiao Mei, stop. You'll still have a chance to eat here before we go," she pulled the under-sized panda aside and shouldered the pack. It was heavy with the supplies she would need to keep the two of them alive on the long stretch of their journey apart from civilization.
She allowed herself one last glance around her bedroom before scooping Xiao Mei up in her arms and walking out for her final goodbyes and a somber meal with the closest members of her desperate clan. Grandfather had promised to come along with her as far as he could and furnish her with some final tips, but she would take her leave from Grandmother and all the rest here.
"It would be best for you to be back home before dark, Grandfather." Mei's steps slowed as their inevitable separation grew nearer.
"Yes, but I'm sure I will still have time if I go just a bit further. Up to the top of that hill, perhaps?"
That brought a smile to her face. "You said that before the last hill. This really has to be the last time."
"I promise," he agreed.
Mei mentally shored up her resolve not to waver as he kept that promise and hugged her good-bye. She made herself brave with further vows to conduct herself well in Amestris and to save their clan and make him proud.
"I can do this," she said. She believed it.
She looked back at the hill, growing distant in her sight. He was still standing there. "Grandfather," she thought, "You should turn back."
Then Grandfather held up Ai Ming and waved. Mei hadn't realized he had brought her doll along as he accompanied her. She blinked back the tears that threatened to bog down her steps before she had even truly begun. Ai Ming would be waiting for her return, just like the rest.
Maybe there would be something left of the little girl in her when she marched home triumphant. Maybe not. But, someday, she was sure, she would have daughters of her own who could treasure an heirloom meant to be loved.
Title: Runs in the Family
Prompt 168: nerd
Series: manga/Brotherhood
Word Count: 473
Rating: G
Characters: Roy, OC, Ed's family, etc.
Summary: Roy probably shouldn't be that surprised, considering their parents.
Warnings: ending spoilers
Additional comments: Set some indistinct time in the future. The assistant speaking to Roy is Daniel, who has appeared in a few of my other fics (here and elsewhere).
Won second place! Netting me this excellent banner by remaintobreathe:
"I'd like to bring presents when I visit... It's just- it's been a long time. The kids aren't so little anymore."
"And your daughter is still so cute and small."
"All right, that's enough of that," the Führer gritted his teeth. While he had certainly done his best to look out for Elicia Hughes in the years since her father's death, it hadn't been until the birth of his own daughter that he had come to truly understand Maes' over-protectiveness. Now he was just about as bad ("I waited long enough for this, that I think I deserve it," he argued his case to his wife). "...Remind me why I'm discussing this with you again?"
"Because you want this to be a surprise for the professor and Miss Winry too," Ed's assistant complied calmly with his request. There weren't bad feelings of any substance between the Führer and him- he had simply become a part of the (mostly) good natured back and forth between the two famous men.
"Exactly. ...So what do they like?"
"Simon is in love with automail. His mother has had to tell him he can't come join her in the workshop after school until he finishes his homework. He's especially interested in the metallurgy and design aspects, so I don't know if he'll branch off into some related area of engineering or inventing at some point, but either way it's nice to see all that enthusiasm put to work. He drafts very well."
"...Wait, remind me," Roy twisted the phone cord around his finger as he tried to puzzle out the answer to his question instead of asking it, "...How old is Simon now?" Maybe the years had just passed him by in a blur of politics and marriage and fatherhood, but the last time had visited the Elrics, well, first of all, they had lived in Resembool, not Rush Valley, and Simon had hardly seemed big enough to have already moved on from crayon drawings to drafting.
"As for Lizzy, she hasn't grown out of her desire to know what's inside of anything and everything- it's only expanded from dolls and pocket watches to human bodies. I think she sleeps with one of Miss Winry's anatomy books under her pillow."
He had passed right over Roy's question, but the leader of Amestris chose to let it go. It was unintentional, he imagined, and didn't press the subject. "And, um, Melissa?"
"For Melissa, it's definitely got to be something related to puzzles. She's just crazy about mathematical puzzles. Even when they're getting into trouble, I think they do their parents proud with all those skills they're developing. I wasn't half as clever at any of their ages."
"A focused little brood, aren't they?" Roy chuckled. Of course, considering their parents, perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised. They were Elrics.
Title: Sisters, Mothers, Daughters
Prompt 169: gender bender
Series: manga/Brotherhood (AU)
Word Count: 639
Rating: PG
Characters: Kimblee, Envy, Bradley, Pride
Summary: Kimblee is never truly part of the family.
Warnings: vague creepiness, mentions of death, spoilers about Pride's identity
Author's comment: Sorry this is a bit late...
There weren't very many women out in the field in Ishval. Someone Sol didn't recognize had either been reassigned from a more distant region or was new to the front. Second Lieutenant Hart had not mentioned any reassignments- was this an oversight, or...?
"Lovely work!" the woman said, passing undaunted through the waves of smoke and debris the alchemist left in her wake. Her voice gave Sol pause in the way that nothing she had observed or created here had. She spoke in the voice of a dead girl.
"We know all about you, Sol Kimblee," the woman explained. The crooked grin she wore had never graced the countenance she had chosen to borrow, but there was a Philosopher's Stone, that most tantalizing object of legend, on her person at that very moment and the world was full of possibilities.
It was the doppelganger, that wore one's own face, that should be feared, her mother's eerie fairy stories had warned. No one had ever said anything about her late sister's.
*****
"Are there seven sisters, then?" she asked Envy, although she knew that Envy did not strictly qualify as either Mother's daughter or son.
"I have a brother. Lust." Envy shrugged.
If she were one of them, Sol knew she was only the lowly stepsister.
*****
Mr. Bradley and Seline were in the sitting room with the Führer when Sol was ushered in. "Come along, Seline," Mr. Bradley said. He was a gentle man. He wasn't involved in the plots that had been spun by the woman behind the government, but Sol supposed that when the promised time arrived, he would be among the humans who remained. That privilege would be his not through any merit more special than being (presumably) beloved by the woman sitting at the head of the country.
The same went for Seline. The Führer's daughter briefly caught Kimblee's eye, but the little girl was also too polite to stay and interrupt her mother's business tea with the Red Lotus Alchemist.
"Have a seat, Crimson Lotus," Führer Bradley rose from the couch, indicating a chair positioned in front of an elegant tea setting.
When Seline reached out to take her father's hand, Sol J. Kimblee clenched her own hands in response, freshly manicured nails pressing into her palms . There was no particular reason for it, she thought. If the Führer noticed, she did not say. Upon taking her seat, Sol had kept her hands neatly folded below the table, their lethal ink and undesirable betrayals of emotion kept from sight.
Aside from the icing of general pleasantries they used to beautify all their dealings, Queen Bradley and Sol spoke only of business. This was, Sol felt, as it should be.
*****
"You handled me in the form of a shadow well enough," Pride smirked, upon Sol's proper introduction to her diminutive container.
"I suppose I should applaud your performance as the Führer's daughter then," Sol attempted to smoothly shift the focus of the conversation from the matter of her uneasy reaction to Pride's skill.
Pride held out her tiny hand and Sol, so easy to act, was gripped by a moment of hesitation. "Take it," Pride pressed her, "You know that you want to."
It was strange to proceed like this, the false child's hand in her own.
"You didn't bat an eye at killing children in the war, but you still think of it. If you hadn't lost your own child, wouldn't he or she be about half the age that I appear to be?"
She had been surprised about what they had known from her early days, but not about that. "You would make a better child for me," she observed mildly.
"Humans underestimate monsters," Pride replied. With her pretty black braids and her little saddleshoes, it all seemed so strange. "And that includes you."
*****
Even before she had heard what Pride had done to Gluttony, she had basically known. In this family of sorts, who could be disposable than the fragile human stepsister?
Title: But Is It Art?
Prompt 171: stone
Series: manga/Brotherhood
Word Count:
Rating: G
Characters: Alex Louis Armstrong & Elysia Hughes
Summary: Elysia knows all sorts of people. One is something of a sculptor.
Warnings: set in the future, but no real spoilers
He molds the rock with energy and thought and barely a touch of his hands, although the meeting of stone and metal he makes is scarcely gentle. Have you ever seen a man (and a giant of a man at that) punch a block of marble? And for the sake of making art? It is an astonishing thing and Professor Lagerberg looks about as proud as if he were the sculptor himself - or maybe me, since I'm the one who brought him.
"Interview an artist," the professor had said, "Bring them to class." It was an easy assignment for me. I knew there was practically no reason Uncle Alex would decline to come, not only to talk, but to make art in front of us.
"I would be honored to," he'd beamed at my request, "Tell your teacher not to worry- I will bring my own materials." (At that weight, who else could?)
"It's a talent, all right," that snooty Jonathon remarks, "But is it art?"
Does he always have to ruin things? I grit my teeth hoping that Uncle Alex didn't catch his comments.
"Alchemy's an art as much as anything done with a hammer and chisel," Professor Lagerberg argues, saving me the trouble. "And that," he sweeps his hand in a wide wave, taking in the whole of what has become a pale gray man drawing his arm back to hurl a discus, "Is definitely art."
Title: Collector
Prompt 172: bare or bear
Series: manga(/Brotherhood?)
Word Count: 498
Rating: G
Characters: Grumman
Summary: Grumman had always enjoyed collecting things.
Warnings: none
Author's comment: I always laugh when I see one of those fishing bear carvings randomly in manga or video games. I'm not sure they show it in the anime, but Grumman owns one in the manga!
Wilhelm Grumman liked to collect things. When he had been a little boy growing up three towns over from Central, it had started with marbles. All the kinds and colors and patterns there were to use and admire- catseye and tiger, clear and swirled and china. He bought a few from the town's general shop and others when his father took him into the city. His collection expanded as he played and traded and even just found a few stuck in the mud by the creek.
But it wasn't the marbles specifically that brought him pleasure. It was the process of collecting. His parents were easygoing about this. "Nothing alive," his mother laid down her ground rules, "And no spillover into other parts of the house. Keep it in your room."
They were simple enough strictures, so he managed to comply (it was the teachers at school, more than his parents, who were forced to deal with his quiet ways of sneaking around the rules). Wilhelm's interest in collecting gradually expanded and shifted from marbles to interesting rocks and baseball cards to tinted postcards depicting various regions of Amestris and occasionally other lands.
"Your room is like a museum," his grandfather told him. Wilhelm considered it a compliment. He took good care of his things and covered his shelves with books and treasures.
When Wilhelm left for the academy, he made his parents promise not to throw anything out, but by the time he had graduated, he looked around his old bedroom and found he had moved beyond most of the things he had left there. He sold the marbles and rocks and baseball cards to boys in town, but kept the postcards. He was still interested in letting his imagination stretch far from the bounds of the location he was bound to (now his military post, instead of his hometown); he still needed something to collect.
The woman whose heart he eventually enthralled (though she would always say it went the other way around), shared his interest in finding like things, cataloging, and displaying them together. Together they began a new collection of regional Amestrian crafts.
"I'm lonely when you're away," she admitted, and began to search for a part-time job, "With just the two of us in the apartment there isn't enough housework to occupy my day." She took a position at the local antique store, which, aside from filling her hours, afforded her the first look at all the used postcards that passed through their doors.
"Here, Wilhelm," she smiled over a particularly fine prize, "Here's a hint to the new next piece in your new collection."
The faded picture showed a unit of proud Briggs soldiers standing around a carved wooden statue of a bear with a fish in its mouth. "Fantastic!" Wilhelm laughed, "Such strength, such character!"
"And when we find one, where will you put it?" she looked around the cluttered apartment.
"As soon as I have sufficient rank to merit my own office, I'll put it on a shelf right behind me to keep a little of our hobby present in my day no matter how busy or important I become."
Title: Drastic Measures
Prompt 173: serious illness
Series: manga/Brotherhood
Word Count: 757
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dr. Knox, Kimblee, OCs
Summary: An outbreak of disease among the troops is identified and dealt with.
Warnings: Creepiness, implied violence & death
Won first place!
I received this great banner from ladynorbert:
"An outbreak among the troops would be unacceptable," Major General Hirsch declared.
"That's all well and good, sir, but you've expressed your disapproval a bit too late," Dr. Knox replied, "Bosco and Monahan are doing their best to contain it, but confirmed cases are rising right along with the temperature.
The pair of alchemists flanking Hirsch shared a smile around his back. Doctors Bosco and Monahan might have been too busy to come, but odds were that neither of them had the nerve to pass on the news the way Knox would. His straightforward approach fit the tone of their situation.
"What is your projection regarding the progression of this outbreak? How soon do you think it can be contained?"
"Under the circumstances, we're inclined to think it won't be able to be contained."
That outcome wasn't so amusing. "I don't mean to question your expertise, doctor, but I must ask: you're absolutely sure this is Yellow Desert Fever? Because if-"
"Come now, sir," Kimblee took up Knox's side, "Don't insult the good doctor. I'm sure all the chief medical officials we have here have already put their heads together and examined the cases in detail. He wouldn't be here wasting time and worrying you if Prancet here had accidentally leaked some of his gas into the supply tent."
"If I did that, rest assured that it would be on purpose and that our man Kimblee here would be right in the thick of it," Thomas Prancet replied.
There had been a problem with the so-called "Gas Man" already, but it wouldn't do Knox any good to complain about it. Within hours of their arrival to the front it had become clear that they would receive special treatment. Prancet only stood out as the most obvious bad case. He was a convicted murderer back in Wellesley. The government was willing to make use of anyone (how they might make use of you though…).
"Do you have instructions ready for how we should proceed or should I get back to work and tell everyone to continue as we have while awaiting further orders?" Knox couldn't say that he liked either Prancet or Kimblee, but at least they seemed to respect his title and the amount of learning and specialization it implied, which was more than could be said for many of the standard ranking officers around the camp.
Dr. Knox wished that Roy had made it back before he'd been forced to make this report. Maybe the younger man couldn't be counted on to be quite a level head (no normal person could be expected to maintain that sort of composure under these circumstances), but it was nice to have something to talk to who'd let you know if your thoughts were still reasonably sane.
"Doctor, how long does it take symptoms of the disease to appear?"
"It varies, but rarely longer than a day."
"Tell Bosco to continue to enforce the strictest quarantine and continue preventative efforts. You'll receive further orders by eighteen hundred hours. Thank you, Knox. You're dismissed."
It seemed as if some further remark was on the doctor's tongue, but after lingering an indecisive moment, he saluted, turned, and left.
Hirsch removed and began to polish his glasses in Knox's wake. He stared off into the distance as he thought, his expression remaining blank. It was a good sign, Kimblee thought.
"That Yellow Desert Fever can really mess up your liver, right? And your brain," Prancet mused.
"With such a high mortality rate, I'd worry more about winding up dead," Kimblee smiled back at him.
The major general replaced his glasses and looked from one alchemist to the other. He'd inherited Prancet after the death of Brigadier General Hammond. Kimblee had always been his pet. "I believe that, perhaps, a poison would be quicker than a cure."
Catching on to the shape matters were taking, Prancet's lips began to curl up into a smile to compete with Kimblee's. "I know plenty of poison, sir."
"But Prancet's work tends to fall short of the necessary degree of finesse," Kimblee countered with his own self-promoting argument.
"Good points both, gentlemen." Hirsh was pleased to hold the reins to such forward-thinkingsubordinates.
"I would better at making it appear an accident. …Something involving the improper storage of explosive materials…"
Kimblee won with that.
The cure was so much worse than the disease that several disapproving doctors died from it the same as their patients.
Dr. Knox had seen enough already. He knew when to keep his mouth shut.
Title: Newsworthy
Prompt 175: BOOM!
Series: any
Word Count: 249
Rating: PG
Characters: OC, Scar
Summary: It won't be a slow news day much longer.
Warnings: none
This was a blind challenge and I won 2nd place.
sonjajade made me this cool banner:
It was an ordinary afternoon- kind of gloomy; sales were slow. The big win by the Central Hawks yesterday was already old news. I was disappointed I hadn't been there to see it myself (never mind that I'd been sure from the get-go that the Black Socks would lose).
I never saw the news; I only sold it.
It wasn't like anything interesting would happen on the corner of Spruce and Fifth. At least on Main or Centennial one might have the opportunity to see the führer's motorcade. As the runt of the newsboy group, I was doomed to a tough route.
There was nothing interesting to see at Spruce and Main, although in this one boarding house- I looked up to see it- a real cheapskate alchemist lived there.
A flash of crimson glowed behind the glass on the second story window for a split second before the blast as the windowpane shattered. The surprise made me lose my feet.
From the window came a man, cloaked, large, his hair Ishvalan white. How many people aside from me saw him before he was gone?
The sound of the explosion sent a ripple of panic through the street. Pedestrians stopped in place and stared toward the source of the sound. A couple of cars pulled over. Drivers and passengers alike searched for the source of all the excitement.
I could already imagine the next headline I'd be calling: "Extra, extra! Read all about it! Scar strikes in Central City!"
Title: Brinksmanship
Prompt 176: arrogance
Series: manga/Brotherhood
Word Count: 484
Rating: PG
Characters: Kimblee & Ed
Summary: It was a deadly game. And who was ahead?
Warnings: none
Under his breath he said something about arrogance as he reached for the doorknob.
It was the wrong thought to let escape the protective confines of his head.
Kimblee was quick for a guy his age.
The curse that escaped Ed's lips next was better advised, even if it didn't do him any favors. Kimblee held him pinned against the wall, but in holding each of Ed's arms against the cool surface (even closed up and presumably heated it was like touching the side of a glass of ice tea to his face, since, to a greater or lesser degree, everything in Briggs was cold), his own weaponized palms were tied up, depriving him momentarily of his greatest asset in a fight. ...He didn't mean to do anything drastic, right here within the fortress, did he? ...He wouldn't have taken the trouble to give Ed orders if there wasn't at least an opportunity for him to carry them out, would he?
The shadows of Kimblee's men loomed behind the window, easily blocking the view of whatever was about to occur within the negotiating room. Ed tried not to look into Kimblee's searching, steady eyes, opting instead to focus on the last wisps of steam drifting away from his coffee cup.
"Arrogant, hmm?" Kimblee spoke as softly as their proximity required, with a tone of threat wrapped in silk, "That may be so, but perhaps if you take a wider perspective, you'll see that you are the more arrogant one here, Fullmetal. I make my way in the world by slipping through the cracks and putting on masks, but you expect to regain everything you've lost brazenly bulldozing your way through life. And now to think that you've found some sort of way to outfox me-"
Ed began to protest, but Kimblee shushed him with a cutting glance and subtle shake of his head, "Yes, you think you have. It's not in your nature either to bend to authority or to compromise your morals. You've agreed to my commands because you have a plan and I've accepted that agreement not because I take it at face value, but because I'm interested in seeing what you're going to try."
Was it worth it anymore to bother trying to keep his mouth shut? Ed steeled himself to meet Kimblee's eyes again. Based on what he'd said, the crazy alchemist intended on keeping him alive, and that was all he needed. As long as lived, he could keep on striving. "Fine, you know that much. I don't think you like wasting time any more than I do."
Kimblee backed up a step and let him go. "I'll accept that as your apology then for that last little delay. Go on," he held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture, "And when you take action," his smug smirk opened into a full-faced grin, "Hit me with your best shot."
...and this set of re-posted fics concludes with a funny one. Funny to me, at least.
Title: The Democracy of Humor
Author: seta_suzume
Series: manga/Brotherhood
Word Count: 684
Rating: PG
Characters: Roy, Havoc, OCs
Summary: General Mustang brings an old friend along to his favorite comedy club.
Warnings: none
This story was part of a 3-way tie for first place! ladynorbert made some creatively amusing banners:
"Any of you ever gone and taken the opportunity to watch the potential State Alchemists take the practical segment of their exam? They let you do that now, you know. It's part of the new transparency in government measures. They list the scheduling in the papers. Really. Look it up," Dan Spade launched into an exploration of Roy's favorite subject in his catalogue of comedy, "It's amazing! Amazingly funny that is.
"Let me tell you, these are not Electric or Flame caliber alchemists. Do you remember the Electric Alchemist? Her workshop out in Kolde is still running. You can still go see her machines. It's not as neat as it once was though. My granny took me there back when I was a kid. Dolores Perry was a pretty wild lady, believe it or not. If you visited her lab, you could watch her create and conduct lightning. She could run the entire lab on the stuff. Gotta wonder what she did with that when she wasn't at work. Now they just plug the devices in like everybody else. Last week I went and watched a guy trying to work electricity to pass his exam. He made one lightbulb flicker on. Compare this guy to Perry, he's, like, the 'Static Shock Alchemist!'"
Dan Spade seemed undeterred by the subdued response he received, tugging on his checkered bow tie and continuing on in this manner. "And then, of course you all know the Flame Alchemist. He's made good. Maybe you saw that movie that's based on his exploits?"
"Don't talk about that," Roy grumbled quietly into his drink.
Jean Havoc smirked, but chose not to add his own comments about the film. "Did you know Electric? Would she like being joked about like this?"
"Eh, I think she'd be proud that people are still talking about her lab."
Fortunately for the general's mood, the comedian stuck with his theme of "State Alchemists then and now" comparison. "General Mustang can snap his fingers and make fire. A few days ago, I saw an alchemist paint a diagram about a yard in diameter just to turn the mixture he poured out of one tiny flask into a handful of salt crystals.
"You know they'll certify just about anybody these days. And the names they get! I can't make this stuff up! Have you met the Topiary Alchemist? He does a lot of very artistic work with trees. I think it's an agricultural thing. Anyone in the audience who can explain it to me without putting me to sleep I will buy a drink for tonight after the show!"
Havoc turned to Roy. "Hybrid fruit; tree splicing," he answered in a heartbeat.
"Someone's going to owe you a drink," Havoc grinned wider than he had at any of the jokes.
"There's the Cobalt Alchemist. I think she makes…paint? Honestly, I couldn't tell you for sure. What do you think the Cobalt Alchemist should be doing?
"I want to know who's certifying these people, don't you? Are our taxes going towards paying for these people's research grants? Do you want to be supporting whatever work is done by the Saline Alchemist? The Ester Alchemist? The Blue Rose Alchemist? …Of course, the last time I read about an alchemist with an incomprehensibly flowery name, it turned out he was an explosives expert- yes, you over there looking uncomfortable- you know who I'm talking about, mister- so I guess one should not always judge an alchemist by his name. For all I know, Blue Rose is going to revolutionize plastics! Or medicine! Or…something. I have no idea what that guy does."
"This stuff is terrible," Havoc groaned, "I thought your sense of humor was at least a little more sophisticated than this, sir."
"It's not the humor in the jokes that's making me laugh," Roy explained, "I love these observations for themselves. Because it means that when ordinary people think of alchemy, it's not as some horrifying tool of war. And because this awkward, silly man is being allowed to publicly make them."
"Well, freedom of speech is a beautiful thing."
Prompt 164: pills
Series: any/all
Word Count: 336
Rating: PG
Characters: Izumi & Sig
Summary: Izumi had always been a healthy person.
Warnings: none
[This was for a blind challenge round.]
Before she had witnessed the Truth, Izumi had been perfectly healthy. She had trained hard, worked hard, eating and loving well.
Within a week of her transgression, she became better acquainted with doctors and examines, tests and treatments than she imagined the entire rest of her life had made her. The effects an alchemic rebound could wreck on the body were something strange and beyond the bounds of ordinary medical science.
All the local doctor could do was, as she had expected, come up with a regimen to manage her symptoms. Izumi understood. Her case was beyond unusual. The little white paper bag the pharmacist placed her bottles of pills in was light, and yet it still felt like the heaviest thing she had ever carried. Sig offered to hold it for her and Izumi accepted.
That evening she sat at the kitchen corner sorting out the schedule she would follow in taking them. This one, one twice a day; that other, just a half once a day, and so forth. Just like that- another routine for daily living.
If she took her case to some expert in Central (there had to be someone- at least one person- within the national military-industrial complex who worked within the area of overlap between alchemy and medicine, it was possible that she might receive an alternate form of treatment, but there was obviously no going back. No "cure."
And there was no way she would make that trip. She couldn't imagine any way she could receive that expert diagnosis without the cause being recognized and understood. Unwanted military attention would be quick to follow, and that was something Izumi could not allow. ...Even if she did, there was always the possibility that there was nothing more anyone could offer her than a life of regular follow-up exams and a handful of pills.
That she had Sig and their love for one another was enough. She'd take her pills promptly every day. There were plenty of things worth living for.
Title: Childish Things
Prompt 166: “I need to let you go."
Series: manga/Brotherhood
Word Count: 644
Rating: G
Characters: Mei Chang & family
Summary: Mei leaves home.
Warnings: none
"Surely, I am no longer such a little girl that I need to bring you along with me on this trip, Ai Ming," Mei addressed the pretty doll sitting on her bed beside the bag her Chang Clan grandparents (the only grandparents she had ever known) had packed for her with care. She remained "little" only in the sense of her size. She was almost twelve years old now (her coming birthday would most likely pass while she trekked across the desert).
Xiao Mei sniffed at her pack, curious as to what sort of hardy snacks might be contained within for their journey. Ai Ming's painted eyes stared up at her owner. Even a girl her age, Mei reasoned, could be a bit sentimental when it came to a toy like Ai Ming. She was something more than a mix of wood and paint and cloth. Her mother, Imperial Concubine Feiyan, had made and decorated Ai Ming herself as a gift for her only child.
Ai Ming was more of a little mother character than a sister or a baby like most dolls. If Xiao Mei was her wild companion, Ai Ming was her gentle one, a piece of Mei's mother who was always available to her daughter. "You are much too adult to be sad without me, Ai Ming," Mei continued (for Ai Ming's sake, of course, and as a substitute for saying so to the others she was leaving behind, not for her own), "You will find it as glorious as every other member of the Chang Clan when I return home with our salvation in hand."
Xiao Mei was getting a bit too close to finding her way into where some of their rations were being kept. "Xiao Mei, stop. You'll still have a chance to eat here before we go," she pulled the under-sized panda aside and shouldered the pack. It was heavy with the supplies she would need to keep the two of them alive on the long stretch of their journey apart from civilization.
She allowed herself one last glance around her bedroom before scooping Xiao Mei up in her arms and walking out for her final goodbyes and a somber meal with the closest members of her desperate clan. Grandfather had promised to come along with her as far as he could and furnish her with some final tips, but she would take her leave from Grandmother and all the rest here.
"It would be best for you to be back home before dark, Grandfather." Mei's steps slowed as their inevitable separation grew nearer.
"Yes, but I'm sure I will still have time if I go just a bit further. Up to the top of that hill, perhaps?"
That brought a smile to her face. "You said that before the last hill. This really has to be the last time."
"I promise," he agreed.
Mei mentally shored up her resolve not to waver as he kept that promise and hugged her good-bye. She made herself brave with further vows to conduct herself well in Amestris and to save their clan and make him proud.
"I can do this," she said. She believed it.
She looked back at the hill, growing distant in her sight. He was still standing there. "Grandfather," she thought, "You should turn back."
Then Grandfather held up Ai Ming and waved. Mei hadn't realized he had brought her doll along as he accompanied her. She blinked back the tears that threatened to bog down her steps before she had even truly begun. Ai Ming would be waiting for her return, just like the rest.
Maybe there would be something left of the little girl in her when she marched home triumphant. Maybe not. But, someday, she was sure, she would have daughters of her own who could treasure an heirloom meant to be loved.
Title: Runs in the Family
Prompt 168: nerd
Series: manga/Brotherhood
Word Count: 473
Rating: G
Characters: Roy, OC, Ed's family, etc.
Summary: Roy probably shouldn't be that surprised, considering their parents.
Warnings: ending spoilers
Additional comments: Set some indistinct time in the future. The assistant speaking to Roy is Daniel, who has appeared in a few of my other fics (here and elsewhere).
Won second place! Netting me this excellent banner by remaintobreathe:
"I'd like to bring presents when I visit... It's just- it's been a long time. The kids aren't so little anymore."
"And your daughter is still so cute and small."
"All right, that's enough of that," the Führer gritted his teeth. While he had certainly done his best to look out for Elicia Hughes in the years since her father's death, it hadn't been until the birth of his own daughter that he had come to truly understand Maes' over-protectiveness. Now he was just about as bad ("I waited long enough for this, that I think I deserve it," he argued his case to his wife). "...Remind me why I'm discussing this with you again?"
"Because you want this to be a surprise for the professor and Miss Winry too," Ed's assistant complied calmly with his request. There weren't bad feelings of any substance between the Führer and him- he had simply become a part of the (mostly) good natured back and forth between the two famous men.
"Exactly. ...So what do they like?"
"Simon is in love with automail. His mother has had to tell him he can't come join her in the workshop after school until he finishes his homework. He's especially interested in the metallurgy and design aspects, so I don't know if he'll branch off into some related area of engineering or inventing at some point, but either way it's nice to see all that enthusiasm put to work. He drafts very well."
"...Wait, remind me," Roy twisted the phone cord around his finger as he tried to puzzle out the answer to his question instead of asking it, "...How old is Simon now?" Maybe the years had just passed him by in a blur of politics and marriage and fatherhood, but the last time had visited the Elrics, well, first of all, they had lived in Resembool, not Rush Valley, and Simon had hardly seemed big enough to have already moved on from crayon drawings to drafting.
"As for Lizzy, she hasn't grown out of her desire to know what's inside of anything and everything- it's only expanded from dolls and pocket watches to human bodies. I think she sleeps with one of Miss Winry's anatomy books under her pillow."
He had passed right over Roy's question, but the leader of Amestris chose to let it go. It was unintentional, he imagined, and didn't press the subject. "And, um, Melissa?"
"For Melissa, it's definitely got to be something related to puzzles. She's just crazy about mathematical puzzles. Even when they're getting into trouble, I think they do their parents proud with all those skills they're developing. I wasn't half as clever at any of their ages."
"A focused little brood, aren't they?" Roy chuckled. Of course, considering their parents, perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised. They were Elrics.
Title: Sisters, Mothers, Daughters
Prompt 169: gender bender
Series: manga/Brotherhood (AU)
Word Count: 639
Rating: PG
Characters: Kimblee, Envy, Bradley, Pride
Summary: Kimblee is never truly part of the family.
Warnings: vague creepiness, mentions of death, spoilers about Pride's identity
Author's comment: Sorry this is a bit late...
There weren't very many women out in the field in Ishval. Someone Sol didn't recognize had either been reassigned from a more distant region or was new to the front. Second Lieutenant Hart had not mentioned any reassignments- was this an oversight, or...?
"Lovely work!" the woman said, passing undaunted through the waves of smoke and debris the alchemist left in her wake. Her voice gave Sol pause in the way that nothing she had observed or created here had. She spoke in the voice of a dead girl.
"We know all about you, Sol Kimblee," the woman explained. The crooked grin she wore had never graced the countenance she had chosen to borrow, but there was a Philosopher's Stone, that most tantalizing object of legend, on her person at that very moment and the world was full of possibilities.
It was the doppelganger, that wore one's own face, that should be feared, her mother's eerie fairy stories had warned. No one had ever said anything about her late sister's.
*****
"Are there seven sisters, then?" she asked Envy, although she knew that Envy did not strictly qualify as either Mother's daughter or son.
"I have a brother. Lust." Envy shrugged.
If she were one of them, Sol knew she was only the lowly stepsister.
*****
Mr. Bradley and Seline were in the sitting room with the Führer when Sol was ushered in. "Come along, Seline," Mr. Bradley said. He was a gentle man. He wasn't involved in the plots that had been spun by the woman behind the government, but Sol supposed that when the promised time arrived, he would be among the humans who remained. That privilege would be his not through any merit more special than being (presumably) beloved by the woman sitting at the head of the country.
The same went for Seline. The Führer's daughter briefly caught Kimblee's eye, but the little girl was also too polite to stay and interrupt her mother's business tea with the Red Lotus Alchemist.
"Have a seat, Crimson Lotus," Führer Bradley rose from the couch, indicating a chair positioned in front of an elegant tea setting.
When Seline reached out to take her father's hand, Sol J. Kimblee clenched her own hands in response, freshly manicured nails pressing into her palms . There was no particular reason for it, she thought. If the Führer noticed, she did not say. Upon taking her seat, Sol had kept her hands neatly folded below the table, their lethal ink and undesirable betrayals of emotion kept from sight.
Aside from the icing of general pleasantries they used to beautify all their dealings, Queen Bradley and Sol spoke only of business. This was, Sol felt, as it should be.
*****
"You handled me in the form of a shadow well enough," Pride smirked, upon Sol's proper introduction to her diminutive container.
"I suppose I should applaud your performance as the Führer's daughter then," Sol attempted to smoothly shift the focus of the conversation from the matter of her uneasy reaction to Pride's skill.
Pride held out her tiny hand and Sol, so easy to act, was gripped by a moment of hesitation. "Take it," Pride pressed her, "You know that you want to."
It was strange to proceed like this, the false child's hand in her own.
"You didn't bat an eye at killing children in the war, but you still think of it. If you hadn't lost your own child, wouldn't he or she be about half the age that I appear to be?"
She had been surprised about what they had known from her early days, but not about that. "You would make a better child for me," she observed mildly.
"Humans underestimate monsters," Pride replied. With her pretty black braids and her little saddleshoes, it all seemed so strange. "And that includes you."
*****
Even before she had heard what Pride had done to Gluttony, she had basically known. In this family of sorts, who could be disposable than the fragile human stepsister?
Title: But Is It Art?
Prompt 171: stone
Series: manga/Brotherhood
Word Count:
Rating: G
Characters: Alex Louis Armstrong & Elysia Hughes
Summary: Elysia knows all sorts of people. One is something of a sculptor.
Warnings: set in the future, but no real spoilers
He molds the rock with energy and thought and barely a touch of his hands, although the meeting of stone and metal he makes is scarcely gentle. Have you ever seen a man (and a giant of a man at that) punch a block of marble? And for the sake of making art? It is an astonishing thing and Professor Lagerberg looks about as proud as if he were the sculptor himself - or maybe me, since I'm the one who brought him.
"Interview an artist," the professor had said, "Bring them to class." It was an easy assignment for me. I knew there was practically no reason Uncle Alex would decline to come, not only to talk, but to make art in front of us.
"I would be honored to," he'd beamed at my request, "Tell your teacher not to worry- I will bring my own materials." (At that weight, who else could?)
"It's a talent, all right," that snooty Jonathon remarks, "But is it art?"
Does he always have to ruin things? I grit my teeth hoping that Uncle Alex didn't catch his comments.
"Alchemy's an art as much as anything done with a hammer and chisel," Professor Lagerberg argues, saving me the trouble. "And that," he sweeps his hand in a wide wave, taking in the whole of what has become a pale gray man drawing his arm back to hurl a discus, "Is definitely art."
Title: Collector
Prompt 172: bare or bear
Series: manga(/Brotherhood?)
Word Count: 498
Rating: G
Characters: Grumman
Summary: Grumman had always enjoyed collecting things.
Warnings: none
Author's comment: I always laugh when I see one of those fishing bear carvings randomly in manga or video games. I'm not sure they show it in the anime, but Grumman owns one in the manga!
Wilhelm Grumman liked to collect things. When he had been a little boy growing up three towns over from Central, it had started with marbles. All the kinds and colors and patterns there were to use and admire- catseye and tiger, clear and swirled and china. He bought a few from the town's general shop and others when his father took him into the city. His collection expanded as he played and traded and even just found a few stuck in the mud by the creek.
But it wasn't the marbles specifically that brought him pleasure. It was the process of collecting. His parents were easygoing about this. "Nothing alive," his mother laid down her ground rules, "And no spillover into other parts of the house. Keep it in your room."
They were simple enough strictures, so he managed to comply (it was the teachers at school, more than his parents, who were forced to deal with his quiet ways of sneaking around the rules). Wilhelm's interest in collecting gradually expanded and shifted from marbles to interesting rocks and baseball cards to tinted postcards depicting various regions of Amestris and occasionally other lands.
"Your room is like a museum," his grandfather told him. Wilhelm considered it a compliment. He took good care of his things and covered his shelves with books and treasures.
When Wilhelm left for the academy, he made his parents promise not to throw anything out, but by the time he had graduated, he looked around his old bedroom and found he had moved beyond most of the things he had left there. He sold the marbles and rocks and baseball cards to boys in town, but kept the postcards. He was still interested in letting his imagination stretch far from the bounds of the location he was bound to (now his military post, instead of his hometown); he still needed something to collect.
The woman whose heart he eventually enthralled (though she would always say it went the other way around), shared his interest in finding like things, cataloging, and displaying them together. Together they began a new collection of regional Amestrian crafts.
"I'm lonely when you're away," she admitted, and began to search for a part-time job, "With just the two of us in the apartment there isn't enough housework to occupy my day." She took a position at the local antique store, which, aside from filling her hours, afforded her the first look at all the used postcards that passed through their doors.
"Here, Wilhelm," she smiled over a particularly fine prize, "Here's a hint to the new next piece in your new collection."
The faded picture showed a unit of proud Briggs soldiers standing around a carved wooden statue of a bear with a fish in its mouth. "Fantastic!" Wilhelm laughed, "Such strength, such character!"
"And when we find one, where will you put it?" she looked around the cluttered apartment.
"As soon as I have sufficient rank to merit my own office, I'll put it on a shelf right behind me to keep a little of our hobby present in my day no matter how busy or important I become."
Title: Drastic Measures
Prompt 173: serious illness
Series: manga/Brotherhood
Word Count: 757
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dr. Knox, Kimblee, OCs
Summary: An outbreak of disease among the troops is identified and dealt with.
Warnings: Creepiness, implied violence & death
Won first place!
I received this great banner from ladynorbert:
"An outbreak among the troops would be unacceptable," Major General Hirsch declared.
"That's all well and good, sir, but you've expressed your disapproval a bit too late," Dr. Knox replied, "Bosco and Monahan are doing their best to contain it, but confirmed cases are rising right along with the temperature.
The pair of alchemists flanking Hirsch shared a smile around his back. Doctors Bosco and Monahan might have been too busy to come, but odds were that neither of them had the nerve to pass on the news the way Knox would. His straightforward approach fit the tone of their situation.
"What is your projection regarding the progression of this outbreak? How soon do you think it can be contained?"
"Under the circumstances, we're inclined to think it won't be able to be contained."
That outcome wasn't so amusing. "I don't mean to question your expertise, doctor, but I must ask: you're absolutely sure this is Yellow Desert Fever? Because if-"
"Come now, sir," Kimblee took up Knox's side, "Don't insult the good doctor. I'm sure all the chief medical officials we have here have already put their heads together and examined the cases in detail. He wouldn't be here wasting time and worrying you if Prancet here had accidentally leaked some of his gas into the supply tent."
"If I did that, rest assured that it would be on purpose and that our man Kimblee here would be right in the thick of it," Thomas Prancet replied.
There had been a problem with the so-called "Gas Man" already, but it wouldn't do Knox any good to complain about it. Within hours of their arrival to the front it had become clear that they would receive special treatment. Prancet only stood out as the most obvious bad case. He was a convicted murderer back in Wellesley. The government was willing to make use of anyone (how they might make use of you though…).
"Do you have instructions ready for how we should proceed or should I get back to work and tell everyone to continue as we have while awaiting further orders?" Knox couldn't say that he liked either Prancet or Kimblee, but at least they seemed to respect his title and the amount of learning and specialization it implied, which was more than could be said for many of the standard ranking officers around the camp.
Dr. Knox wished that Roy had made it back before he'd been forced to make this report. Maybe the younger man couldn't be counted on to be quite a level head (no normal person could be expected to maintain that sort of composure under these circumstances), but it was nice to have something to talk to who'd let you know if your thoughts were still reasonably sane.
"Doctor, how long does it take symptoms of the disease to appear?"
"It varies, but rarely longer than a day."
"Tell Bosco to continue to enforce the strictest quarantine and continue preventative efforts. You'll receive further orders by eighteen hundred hours. Thank you, Knox. You're dismissed."
It seemed as if some further remark was on the doctor's tongue, but after lingering an indecisive moment, he saluted, turned, and left.
Hirsch removed and began to polish his glasses in Knox's wake. He stared off into the distance as he thought, his expression remaining blank. It was a good sign, Kimblee thought.
"That Yellow Desert Fever can really mess up your liver, right? And your brain," Prancet mused.
"With such a high mortality rate, I'd worry more about winding up dead," Kimblee smiled back at him.
The major general replaced his glasses and looked from one alchemist to the other. He'd inherited Prancet after the death of Brigadier General Hammond. Kimblee had always been his pet. "I believe that, perhaps, a poison would be quicker than a cure."
Catching on to the shape matters were taking, Prancet's lips began to curl up into a smile to compete with Kimblee's. "I know plenty of poison, sir."
"But Prancet's work tends to fall short of the necessary degree of finesse," Kimblee countered with his own self-promoting argument.
"Good points both, gentlemen." Hirsh was pleased to hold the reins to such forward-thinkingsubordinates.
"I would better at making it appear an accident. …Something involving the improper storage of explosive materials…"
Kimblee won with that.
The cure was so much worse than the disease that several disapproving doctors died from it the same as their patients.
Dr. Knox had seen enough already. He knew when to keep his mouth shut.
Title: Newsworthy
Prompt 175: BOOM!
Series: any
Word Count: 249
Rating: PG
Characters: OC, Scar
Summary: It won't be a slow news day much longer.
Warnings: none
This was a blind challenge and I won 2nd place.
sonjajade made me this cool banner:
It was an ordinary afternoon- kind of gloomy; sales were slow. The big win by the Central Hawks yesterday was already old news. I was disappointed I hadn't been there to see it myself (never mind that I'd been sure from the get-go that the Black Socks would lose).
I never saw the news; I only sold it.
It wasn't like anything interesting would happen on the corner of Spruce and Fifth. At least on Main or Centennial one might have the opportunity to see the führer's motorcade. As the runt of the newsboy group, I was doomed to a tough route.
There was nothing interesting to see at Spruce and Main, although in this one boarding house- I looked up to see it- a real cheapskate alchemist lived there.
A flash of crimson glowed behind the glass on the second story window for a split second before the blast as the windowpane shattered. The surprise made me lose my feet.
From the window came a man, cloaked, large, his hair Ishvalan white. How many people aside from me saw him before he was gone?
The sound of the explosion sent a ripple of panic through the street. Pedestrians stopped in place and stared toward the source of the sound. A couple of cars pulled over. Drivers and passengers alike searched for the source of all the excitement.
I could already imagine the next headline I'd be calling: "Extra, extra! Read all about it! Scar strikes in Central City!"
Title: Brinksmanship
Prompt 176: arrogance
Series: manga/Brotherhood
Word Count: 484
Rating: PG
Characters: Kimblee & Ed
Summary: It was a deadly game. And who was ahead?
Warnings: none
Under his breath he said something about arrogance as he reached for the doorknob.
It was the wrong thought to let escape the protective confines of his head.
Kimblee was quick for a guy his age.
The curse that escaped Ed's lips next was better advised, even if it didn't do him any favors. Kimblee held him pinned against the wall, but in holding each of Ed's arms against the cool surface (even closed up and presumably heated it was like touching the side of a glass of ice tea to his face, since, to a greater or lesser degree, everything in Briggs was cold), his own weaponized palms were tied up, depriving him momentarily of his greatest asset in a fight. ...He didn't mean to do anything drastic, right here within the fortress, did he? ...He wouldn't have taken the trouble to give Ed orders if there wasn't at least an opportunity for him to carry them out, would he?
The shadows of Kimblee's men loomed behind the window, easily blocking the view of whatever was about to occur within the negotiating room. Ed tried not to look into Kimblee's searching, steady eyes, opting instead to focus on the last wisps of steam drifting away from his coffee cup.
"Arrogant, hmm?" Kimblee spoke as softly as their proximity required, with a tone of threat wrapped in silk, "That may be so, but perhaps if you take a wider perspective, you'll see that you are the more arrogant one here, Fullmetal. I make my way in the world by slipping through the cracks and putting on masks, but you expect to regain everything you've lost brazenly bulldozing your way through life. And now to think that you've found some sort of way to outfox me-"
Ed began to protest, but Kimblee shushed him with a cutting glance and subtle shake of his head, "Yes, you think you have. It's not in your nature either to bend to authority or to compromise your morals. You've agreed to my commands because you have a plan and I've accepted that agreement not because I take it at face value, but because I'm interested in seeing what you're going to try."
Was it worth it anymore to bother trying to keep his mouth shut? Ed steeled himself to meet Kimblee's eyes again. Based on what he'd said, the crazy alchemist intended on keeping him alive, and that was all he needed. As long as lived, he could keep on striving. "Fine, you know that much. I don't think you like wasting time any more than I do."
Kimblee backed up a step and let him go. "I'll accept that as your apology then for that last little delay. Go on," he held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture, "And when you take action," his smug smirk opened into a full-faced grin, "Hit me with your best shot."
...and this set of re-posted fics concludes with a funny one. Funny to me, at least.
Title: The Democracy of Humor
Author: seta_suzume
Series: manga/Brotherhood
Word Count: 684
Rating: PG
Characters: Roy, Havoc, OCs
Summary: General Mustang brings an old friend along to his favorite comedy club.
Warnings: none
This story was part of a 3-way tie for first place! ladynorbert made some creatively amusing banners:
"Any of you ever gone and taken the opportunity to watch the potential State Alchemists take the practical segment of their exam? They let you do that now, you know. It's part of the new transparency in government measures. They list the scheduling in the papers. Really. Look it up," Dan Spade launched into an exploration of Roy's favorite subject in his catalogue of comedy, "It's amazing! Amazingly funny that is.
"Let me tell you, these are not Electric or Flame caliber alchemists. Do you remember the Electric Alchemist? Her workshop out in Kolde is still running. You can still go see her machines. It's not as neat as it once was though. My granny took me there back when I was a kid. Dolores Perry was a pretty wild lady, believe it or not. If you visited her lab, you could watch her create and conduct lightning. She could run the entire lab on the stuff. Gotta wonder what she did with that when she wasn't at work. Now they just plug the devices in like everybody else. Last week I went and watched a guy trying to work electricity to pass his exam. He made one lightbulb flicker on. Compare this guy to Perry, he's, like, the 'Static Shock Alchemist!'"
Dan Spade seemed undeterred by the subdued response he received, tugging on his checkered bow tie and continuing on in this manner. "And then, of course you all know the Flame Alchemist. He's made good. Maybe you saw that movie that's based on his exploits?"
"Don't talk about that," Roy grumbled quietly into his drink.
Jean Havoc smirked, but chose not to add his own comments about the film. "Did you know Electric? Would she like being joked about like this?"
"Eh, I think she'd be proud that people are still talking about her lab."
Fortunately for the general's mood, the comedian stuck with his theme of "State Alchemists then and now" comparison. "General Mustang can snap his fingers and make fire. A few days ago, I saw an alchemist paint a diagram about a yard in diameter just to turn the mixture he poured out of one tiny flask into a handful of salt crystals.
"You know they'll certify just about anybody these days. And the names they get! I can't make this stuff up! Have you met the Topiary Alchemist? He does a lot of very artistic work with trees. I think it's an agricultural thing. Anyone in the audience who can explain it to me without putting me to sleep I will buy a drink for tonight after the show!"
Havoc turned to Roy. "Hybrid fruit; tree splicing," he answered in a heartbeat.
"Someone's going to owe you a drink," Havoc grinned wider than he had at any of the jokes.
"There's the Cobalt Alchemist. I think she makes…paint? Honestly, I couldn't tell you for sure. What do you think the Cobalt Alchemist should be doing?
"I want to know who's certifying these people, don't you? Are our taxes going towards paying for these people's research grants? Do you want to be supporting whatever work is done by the Saline Alchemist? The Ester Alchemist? The Blue Rose Alchemist? …Of course, the last time I read about an alchemist with an incomprehensibly flowery name, it turned out he was an explosives expert- yes, you over there looking uncomfortable- you know who I'm talking about, mister- so I guess one should not always judge an alchemist by his name. For all I know, Blue Rose is going to revolutionize plastics! Or medicine! Or…something. I have no idea what that guy does."
"This stuff is terrible," Havoc groaned, "I thought your sense of humor was at least a little more sophisticated than this, sir."
"It's not the humor in the jokes that's making me laugh," Roy explained, "I love these observations for themselves. Because it means that when ordinary people think of alchemy, it's not as some horrifying tool of war. And because this awkward, silly man is being allowed to publicly make them."
"Well, freedom of speech is a beautiful thing."