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31 May 2006 @ 06:48 pm
Short Al fics!  
Title: [one-shot] Running Smoothly
Author: su_dama
Rating: G
Pairing: Al/Winry
Keywords: chair, oil, carrot
Spoilers: movie-verse
Young Alphonse looked up at her. She was such a beautiful friend, such a unique woman, that he couldn’t believe he had forgotten her from before. Forgetting her was a tragedy, in his thoughts, in his mind. And the only person he thought of more, out of fixed sensations and misunderstanding, was of his missing brother, a person he had known as a child. Blond. Tenacious. Egotistical. And stubborn. So stubborn that Ed would always be thought of in certain fragments, like food particles that could not be brushed away, sticking like super-glued notes that tauntingly posted a myriad of secrets….
He could never just sit in his chair and just think of nothing; he was sure Winry would have called him on it, but she always tended to prod him about such trivial things as it was. Enough. Enough. Annoying. Sensationally so. But annoying.
Now, at the moment, she was doing it again. They were eating their supper, and she was doing it again….
Winry lifted the cooked carrot to her lips as if debating whether it would poison her innards if she so much as opened her mouth to it. Al pretended nonchalance about her exterior and continued with his own meal. The smooth meal was about to be disrupted, he could sense….
His head snapped up immediately at the endearment—his fighting eyes—and he could remember all the times she appointed him as that, and it muffled his words in the back of his throat. Why did she have to act this way? Why did she have to be his mother and not a friend? They hurt, these endearments. Who called their friend “sweetie” and “dear” and….who held their friends as if they would break and shatter and never come back…. Winry. And she wasn’t running smoothly. Not with the oil and automail parts. 
Now how could he?
He had to bite his lip, because he just couldn’t take it anymore. Lashing out was not in accordance to his persona, but if he had to…or if he was forced to put an end to things, then….she left him no choice but to hurt openly.
Please…don’t say that,” he said sotto voce, gazing at his potatoes. Imagine drowning in the gravy? He’d rather drown than never see his only family again. Winry could be family, she could be his sister, a very loving one at that, but she could never rise up to Edward’s level of blood.
Was oil thicker than blood? Truly? Metaphorically? Did it matter? 
Because if it was….she could surely be counted as his remaining relative. Wishful thinking. Winry handled oily products when she worked, and when she wasn’t, he could still smell the odor of machine oil instilled beneath epidermis, as if it had permanently left its stain upon her natural beauty, filling her up and mocking the tragedy. Most of all, worst of all, he liked that smell…. Not because it reminded him of her, or just only her, but because he was forcibly reminded—as if being wrenched against the head by Winry’s swift aim—about his brother, and all that he wished, all that he wished, was to see his blood as he was that day, wherever he was, and to say….to say….
(What if Ed was dead? What if he was dead?)
Just to say Winry wasn’t running smoothly without Ed. Not with the oil and automail parts.
Al didn’t watch her stop running. Instead, he watched himself. But for only a short time. 
Only that. Sailing and running smoothly.
Title: [one-shot] Priceless
Author: su_dama
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Al/Martel
Keywords: binoculars, fire, money
Spoilers: anime-verse, episode 34
They sat there that night and early morning, waiting for Greed. 
Al let her out of her metal prison due to her incessant shrieking for him, then her need for air, and he wished to hear peace. So she promised and promised to stay, and he eventually had allowed her the exit from his belly through his neck. The tinboy bid her to sit with him.
It seemed as if the homunculus would never return, and Martel was wondering why. Not really, though, because she knew, just as much as Al did.  So he sat there with her on the grassy mound, waiting. Waiting. The chimera even so much as pulled out a pair of mini-binoculars, military-style, and he questioned her. She did not answer but tucked them back away into the depths of her baggy pants.
Martel mentioned fire a long while later, just as the sun was coming up, and she whispered a tale to him, butchered, but still a respective tale. Fire was the sun. About her knife. About her life. Al did ask again what it all meant, what fire and binoculars and the need to see into the distance meant, but she refused to answer. Simply. She did not. She spoke a few more clouded words and hushed up. Her voice was cracking like thunder, rolling by.
When she flicked her single bang out of her eye, that itching long blond strand that had previously been bothersome, he said, “I thought I had it so bad….I never told my brother, but I thought being in this shell was hateful, almost painful. Although….meeting you, I’m not so sure anymore.”
“Alphonse….it is painful, but….”
He hunched over, diverting his red coals away from her real eyes. He didn’t want to interfere with her thoughts, or how she viewed him. Her tears discomfited him.
“Yes?” If only he could feel her hand on his shoulder, sliding along his slick and sharp arm, onto his clenched leather, and feel that human hand tug at his own insensitive one. Human identity, expelling the reptile infused—DNA, DNA—meeting false identity.
“You can feel that way, talk like that….and you won’t lose your feelings. You’ll still feel like that. You’ll still be a damn piece of armor.” His soul flinched. “No—you’ll be the boy Alphonse, your personality is still you. No one knows anything. And I….”
“You’ll still be an outcast,” he concluded quietly, and he hit the spot dead on, instigating her hand to touch him more so as Martel crammed her four fingers into his less-clenched fist. He would allow her that entrance as well. If she could breathe inside of him, she could hold his hand. His grip loosened, swallowing that small bit. Being inside was humanly impossible. Inhuman.
Wasn’t it that she couldn’t breathe any longer within him, though, that she had to be let out? So what did that say about him? That she couldn’t touch him, she wasn’t allowed…. But she still did.
What if he was never touched as a human? What if he wanted her to touch him like that, like…couples did? Further? Closer? And what if she was thinking along those same lines? Feeling sorry for him…. He just wanted warmth! Why not? Warmth? Please warmth?
It was assurance that he was human after all, with a clever mask and a strong pretense. In his mind he pretended to be a boy, just flesh, and she would hold him to her bosom (how breasts made him want to blush), her heart beating into his brain. He would nuzzle and she would breathe shallowly, then deeply, because they would be together, and he would never have to carry someone inside of him ever again. She wasn’t a parasite, and he didn’t want her to think of herself as one. But babies…they couldn’t help but be parasites, so she and Al had to be human. And that’s where the illusion ended, possibly with a seductive kiss to his temple, assuring him that yes, human…human…a human who could gasp into this warmth.
To be inside a woman…and not be able to blush.
She sat there and held his hand, her body still a ways from his lap, yet nearly rubbing up against him.
The people in the world said that money was all one needed in order to survive. To live off the land was not good enough, never good enough, and that money brought it all together. A green book in pastures that tallied up lives with cens, thus adding and subtracting in angular dips and turns like money charts did flow…. Hence, Al had once believed that money would get them somewhere, Ed and him.
Well, money wasn’t paying for this. Holding hands…with a human, a human, was priceless. Ed never held his hand. Even if Al pestered him, Ed would refuse, and he had once or twice years back. Perhaps Al wasn’t human to his brother after all that's happened. Perhaps…Al was delving too deep into the issue.
Morning soon came—too soon, no more fire—and she left. She left without a word. And he wondered if money would make her stay for a little while longer.
Current Location: WWU
Current Mood: chipperchipper
Current Music: Carla Werner
Emma: roy dvd 12gretchen8642 on June 1st, 2006 02:06 am (UTC)
omg. my love and my life! this is SO well written!! like, i'd never have read this pairing if you hadn't written them, but these are seriously amazing! like poetry! they're both so sweet and sad and amazing and i love you!!

♌ sudama, corrupter of peppers.: pic#46851076su_dama on June 1st, 2006 04:13 am (UTC)
*flails* really? my precious emmy! shpanx so mucho! *blushes*
ssjkawaiitenshi on June 1st, 2006 02:29 am (UTC)
aww the al/winry one was great!
♌ sudama, corrupter of peppers.su_dama on June 1st, 2006 04:13 am (UTC)
danke! i appreciate you reading!
....Heaven's a Lie......heerodiscarded on June 1st, 2006 04:36 am (UTC)
Can I ask you what japanese artist or site your icon's art is from?

It's...maddeningly wonderful.
ssjkawaiitenshi on June 1st, 2006 12:55 pm (UTC)
i dont know, thats why there re question marks, i would love to know so i can give credit
a_souls_shella_souls_shell on June 1st, 2006 01:28 pm (UTC)
Ah! Sorry for being dense.

Would you mind if I asked a FMA community and then got back to you about it?

*Coughs* I know it might be a little offensive to have someone wave your icon around, shouting 'who made this!?' so...want to ask first.
a_souls_shella_souls_shell on June 1st, 2006 01:28 pm (UTC)
ssjkawaiitenshi on June 1st, 2006 01:34 pm (UTC)
Sure LOL...wait, is that the person who made it? huh? im so confused
keiko_sango on June 1st, 2006 04:26 am (UTC)
ahhhhhhhhh!!! SOOOOO CUTE!!! They're soooo good <3 I do love them very very much Belle ^______^

<3 Becca
♌ sudama, corrupter of peppers.: Porn Al!su_dama on June 1st, 2006 04:33 am (UTC)
aww, thank you! *blushes* oh compliments...i must learn to take! i know! vic is good at that! *zoom*

:) Adonis
lupus_leorio on June 1st, 2006 04:54 am (UTC)

:D Thank you so much for the Al/Martel! That is the best one I've read in a looong time! Very deep and interesting... (sorry, I'm no feedback genius)

♌ sudama, corrupter of peppers.: Awsu_dama on June 1st, 2006 05:20 am (UTC)
*bows* You're welcome! I was so excited to write it! O.O I just spit it out...and it may be emo-ish...but oh well!
lilang_luha: AlphonseElric by lilang_luhalilang_luha on June 2nd, 2006 12:24 am (UTC)
omg. I love Al, and I'm so happy there's a good drabble that is Al-centric :) and Al x Winry to boot (I need more of those). Write more ^_^
♌ sudama, corrupter of peppers.: pic#46851076su_dama on June 2nd, 2006 12:58 am (UTC)
otay! *flails* i have lots of ideas.