skeptisch (lelldorin) wrote in fm_alchemist,

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Well, it's not my first FMA fic, but it is my first one that I'm willing to let others read. It's a shame I never finished "The day the shorty snapped." That was really funny. But after Ed slaughtered everyone for philosopher's stone components, there jsut wasn't anywhere to go with the story. but. um. yes. I'm rambling. TO THE FIC.

This hasn't been beta'd or anything, mostly because I'm too lazy to find people to read it before i post, and this is barely over what is (in my mind) drabble length. So consider this like... uh... World of Warcrafttm's Open Beta! yeah.

Title: Tabete?
Author: lelldorin
Rating: maybe PG?
Genre: sheer stupidity
Spoilers: YOU SHOULD READ TO CHAPTER 39 (of the manga), but I won’t blame you if you read this anyways because I’m JUST THAT FUNNY. *sly wink*

written because wiccat asked me to.
Length: 710 words or so.

The prisoner Lan Fan had aided him in capturing was large, if not particularly imposing. He was maybe four feet tall, and almost certainly that wide, with round little eyes and a big nose. He wore a black jumpsuit that left little of his large, round body to the imagination – rather unfortunately, Ling thought privately. Red circles were inscribed here and there on the clothing he wore, connected by red lines, as if to give his rather drab appearance some zing.

All in all, he wasn’t very scary, but then, he was able to regenerate from any wound (like falling from a fourth story window and getting burnt to a blackened crisp by an overprotective colonel) and he was fiendishly fast.

Which was, in Ling’s mind, a perfectly good reason to chain him up so many times that the fat little man – if that’s what he was – no ability to move.

Which is what they had done.

Ling stared at his captive (who said his name was Gluttony) and took a deep breath. “Tell me the secret to your immortality!” he tried again.

Gluttony stared at his captor with no trace of intelligence in his eyes.

Ling stared back, trying to look evil and angry. Which, he admitted, was harder than one would think, seeing as he was predisposed to smiling. A lot.

Gluttony opened his mouth, and the chains creaked. A thin line of drool dripped from the corner of his mouth, scoring a thin burn along the chains it touched.

Ling waited.

Gluttony stared at Ling. Eventually, a bit of curiosity came into his eyes.

Ling, impossibly, felt his hopes rise for the third or fourth time.


“Yes?” he said impatiently.

“…Can I eat you?”

With a crash, Ling’s hopes all fell from their hovering spot of maybe three feet off of the mental ground, and shattered into itty bitty pieces. While he stared at his prisoner in unhappiness, the thought not again floated around, and the little pieces of hope began to dutifully pull themselves together, zinging around in his mind and trying not to collide with the depressing repetition of “not again”.

“Please?” Gluttony asked in his terrifyingly childish voice.

Somewhere, Ling managed to find it in him to answer him.

“No.” he said after a moment.

“Oh.” The fat little man looked at his chains, and tried to move. The chains creaked, but other than that, nothing happened.

“…” Gluttony said.

“…” matched Ling, willing to play the waiting game.

“…can I eat the table?”




“Why not?”

Because you’re an idiot who should be killed if only because you won’t tell me WHY YOU’RE IMMORTAL, came to mind. “Because you aren’t helping me,” Ling said instead. “I want to know why you’re immortal, but you won’t tell me. Therefore, you get nothing to eat.”

“….” Gluttony’s eyes began to tear up. Ling pretended he didn’t see the tears, staring pointedly at nowhere in particular.

“...” sniffled Gluttony.

“…” said Ling, as he was very frustrated.

“…” sniffled gluttony some more.

“…” Ling continued to say, in a rather annoyed way at this point.

Gluttony closed his mouth, and stared at a wall. Ling wondered what the fat little man – no, homunculus; that is what Alphonse and Edward had called them – was thinking. Based on the level of intelligence Gluttony had shown up to this point, probably none.

Ling waited, wanting to pull his sword out and stab the homunculus repeatedly – though he supposed that wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Gluttony opened his mouth again.

Ling perked forward, hoping, impossibly, against all physical evidence to the contrary, that the fat little homunculus would finally answer his demands.

“…” drooled Gluttony.

“Yes?” Ling said impatiently, twirling his hand as if to force Gluttony to speak.




“Out with it!” Ling said finally, feeling very annoyed.

“…Can I eat you?” the homunculus asked hopefully.

Ling’s next thought was along the lines of Head, meet table.

Gluttony drooled.


cross-posted to fm_alchemist and lelldorin
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