Those of you who're also reading
harukami's LJ probably know about the Neesan 20 she's working through -- I'm the other half of that, and she's been after me to go ahead and post the ones I've written already, so. XD; Go ahead and check hers out, too -- she does funny, as opposed to my sap, and they're terribly entertaining♥
For those of you who don't know, these are for one of the many "theme" lists available in J-fandom -- as it so happens, there's a 'Neesan 20,' and since Haru and I are working our Eliza AU, there you have it. XD
The curious can find the link about the Neesan 20 here (in Japanese, tho', so be warned). Haru's doing ten, I'm doing ten -- between us, we'll eventually have them done. XD
Genderswitch drabbles, set within the Eliza AU (by myself and
harukami. Woo. [grins] Some Roy/Ed in 11, and Izumi-spoilers for 10.
1. My Sister
"Your sister's weird," Jakob said.
Al looked up from his careful stick-castle creation and frowned darkly. "My sister is *not* weird," he said, with all the fierceness of the very young. Mama had taken his red-eyed, sniffly sister in to see Winry's parents today, with the admonishment that Al be good and play nicely--which he *was*. And he *would*, if Jakob didn't--
"Yes she *is*," Jakob said. He plunked himself down next to Al and started poking at the stick-castle with a twig of his own. "All she does is run around and talk about how she wants to be a *boy*. Everyone *else's* sisters stay at home with their moms and learn to cook and stuff."
"Winry doesn't do that either," Al protested, then whapped the back of Jakob's hand with a stick before carefully inserting it into his creation.
"Winry's not a sister. But she plays with dolls, at least." Jakob wrinkled his nose. "Nelly says that Eliza doesn't even like dolls."
"She doesn't." Al frowned at his castle, then pulled some grass up and carefully began to shred it. What he wanted were leaves proper, to make good banners, but he didn't want to leave it while Jakob was still hanging around. "She says they're boring."
"See? And that's *weird*." Jakob watched him for a moment, then began to copy his gesture. "She never wants to play house, she doesn't like dolls--your sister's not a *boy*, Al."
"She isn't," he agreed. "She's my sister." He scattered the grass around the castle like a makeshift lawn. "And she's the bestest sister in the world."
"But she's *weird*," Jakob whined. "My sister is better."
"Isn't."
"*Is*."
"*Isn't*!"
"Is!" Jakob shouted, then got to his feet and kicked Al's stick-castle down. Al stared in shock as Jakob scrubbed an arm over his red face and said, "You can *keep* your crummy old sister. At least *mine* knows how to be a *girl*."
After he ran off, Al continued to stare at the wreck. For a moment, he thought about crying--but Sister always told him that men didn't cry, not unless it was Really Really Serious. He took a deep breath, knuckled his eyes, then began to pick up the twigs to rebuild.
That night, despite warnings from their mother and from the Rockbells, Al crawled into bed beside his sister and pressed his forehead to her shoulder. Eliza, sluggish and grumbling, shifted to accommodate him, but didn't wake.
Al breathed in the sickness-smell, and under that, the smell of his sister, sun and grass and warmth.
"She doesn't need to know how to be a girl," he said to Jakob, into Eliza's arm. "*My* sister is the best."
10. Lost Child
Izumi Curtis prides herself on her strength, her self-sufficiency. She loves Mason, adores her husband--but she doesn't *need* them, and they don't *need* her. This is what makes her happy, love and closeness without dependency, without clutching desperate hands that reach out and drag her down. They don't ask; this is why she stays.
Once upon a time, she might have had a son, flesh of her flesh, and she thinks perhaps then, she wouldn't mind being needed. But that ended in disaster, and she discovered that there were supposedly vital organs she didn't need, either.
She did not mean to take on the Elrics as students; she is not teacher material. But she looks at Eliza's serious face, already hardening into the lines of adulthood, and sees the fierce protectiveness the girl has for her brother, maternal instinct in its fledgling stages, and thinks, perhaps, she can head off disaster before it repeats.
Izumi watches Eliza try to take care of Alphonse, and puts a hand over her own stomach, thinking of what she does not understand. She has long lost her chance to learn being a mother, and the idea of learning from a girl less than half her age is peculiar. She believes in life as a lesson, however, and takes her cues from Eliza, and soon it is ... easy, to let them into her heart, to care for them, to doctor their hurts even when she doesn't cause them, to teach Eliza to cook for whenever the Elrics leave her care.
Despite her best intentions, she is fond of these children, and does not want them harmed.
She guides their hands as they draw their arrays, their minds through the stages of understanding, their bodies through the katas that she practices herself, each day.
The day the girl asks *that* question, Izumi lets her control slip a little, does not pull her blows quite as carefully as she normally would. The fear in her throat, which tightens every beat of her heart, whispers that it's too late, too late, she's already lost them--and she pushes that aside, taping a bandage across Eliza's nose and warning her of the dangers, trying to impress upon her the *gravity* of this.
And Eliza looks at her and nods, but doesn't say a word. Izumi is left only with hope, which is a paltry and weak thing--but it's all she has, and she clings to it tenaciously, repeats herself at least twice a day throughout their other lessons: *Human alchemy disrupts the natural flow of the universe; to attempt it will only destroy you.*
She repeats this, and hopes they will listen.
She has already lost one child to that doorway and its smiling keeper. She will be damned if she loses any other.
11. Bathrobe
"It looks good on you," Roy said.
Ed gave him a look of haughty, feline disgust. The effect was distinctly ruined by the bags and folds of the dark blue bathrobe she wore, puddling on the ground around her feet, gaping heavily above and below the loosely knotted belt. She held up both of her hands, palms turned upwards and fingers curled over the hems of the sleeves. "It's way too fucking big. I look like some kind of little kid in this."
"I wouldn't say *that*," Roy protested, sliding his hands through the lower gap at the front to rest his palms on her hips. "It's charming." After a moment's thought, he flexed his fingers, testing the feel of her skin, still slightly damp from her shower.
She wrinkled her nose down at him. "And you're a pervert. This is almost worse than the fucking dress."
"Almost?" he asked, then leaned forward when she didn't try to shove him off. He rested his cheek on the top slope of her chest, between collarbone and breasts, and breathed a deep sigh of content. Ed leaned back, and put her hands on his shoulders, ostensibly for balance.
"Almost," she said, though with less heat than before. "But only because I'm not parading around half of the fucking military in this."
"Their loss," he said cheerfully, and kissed her collarbone. "I'm willing to confess you look better in this than I think you would in a miniskirt."
Ed laced her automail fingers through his hair and yanked, hard. "You have a sick and twisted mind."
He winced at that, but didn't lift his head. "Every man has his dreams, Edward. You should be more sympathetic." Under the too-large folds of the robes, his hands began to creep upwards, splaying wide against her back. "For example, right now, attractive as this is, it's in the way." He looked up at her, and grinned as he tugged her closer.
"Then fucking say so earlier," Ed said, and kissed him.
For those of you who don't know, these are for one of the many "theme" lists available in J-fandom -- as it so happens, there's a 'Neesan 20,' and since Haru and I are working our Eliza AU, there you have it. XD
The curious can find the link about the Neesan 20 here (in Japanese, tho', so be warned). Haru's doing ten, I'm doing ten -- between us, we'll eventually have them done. XD
Genderswitch drabbles, set within the Eliza AU (by myself and
1. My Sister
"Your sister's weird," Jakob said.
Al looked up from his careful stick-castle creation and frowned darkly. "My sister is *not* weird," he said, with all the fierceness of the very young. Mama had taken his red-eyed, sniffly sister in to see Winry's parents today, with the admonishment that Al be good and play nicely--which he *was*. And he *would*, if Jakob didn't--
"Yes she *is*," Jakob said. He plunked himself down next to Al and started poking at the stick-castle with a twig of his own. "All she does is run around and talk about how she wants to be a *boy*. Everyone *else's* sisters stay at home with their moms and learn to cook and stuff."
"Winry doesn't do that either," Al protested, then whapped the back of Jakob's hand with a stick before carefully inserting it into his creation.
"Winry's not a sister. But she plays with dolls, at least." Jakob wrinkled his nose. "Nelly says that Eliza doesn't even like dolls."
"She doesn't." Al frowned at his castle, then pulled some grass up and carefully began to shred it. What he wanted were leaves proper, to make good banners, but he didn't want to leave it while Jakob was still hanging around. "She says they're boring."
"See? And that's *weird*." Jakob watched him for a moment, then began to copy his gesture. "She never wants to play house, she doesn't like dolls--your sister's not a *boy*, Al."
"She isn't," he agreed. "She's my sister." He scattered the grass around the castle like a makeshift lawn. "And she's the bestest sister in the world."
"But she's *weird*," Jakob whined. "My sister is better."
"Isn't."
"*Is*."
"*Isn't*!"
"Is!" Jakob shouted, then got to his feet and kicked Al's stick-castle down. Al stared in shock as Jakob scrubbed an arm over his red face and said, "You can *keep* your crummy old sister. At least *mine* knows how to be a *girl*."
After he ran off, Al continued to stare at the wreck. For a moment, he thought about crying--but Sister always told him that men didn't cry, not unless it was Really Really Serious. He took a deep breath, knuckled his eyes, then began to pick up the twigs to rebuild.
That night, despite warnings from their mother and from the Rockbells, Al crawled into bed beside his sister and pressed his forehead to her shoulder. Eliza, sluggish and grumbling, shifted to accommodate him, but didn't wake.
Al breathed in the sickness-smell, and under that, the smell of his sister, sun and grass and warmth.
"She doesn't need to know how to be a girl," he said to Jakob, into Eliza's arm. "*My* sister is the best."
10. Lost Child
Izumi Curtis prides herself on her strength, her self-sufficiency. She loves Mason, adores her husband--but she doesn't *need* them, and they don't *need* her. This is what makes her happy, love and closeness without dependency, without clutching desperate hands that reach out and drag her down. They don't ask; this is why she stays.
Once upon a time, she might have had a son, flesh of her flesh, and she thinks perhaps then, she wouldn't mind being needed. But that ended in disaster, and she discovered that there were supposedly vital organs she didn't need, either.
She did not mean to take on the Elrics as students; she is not teacher material. But she looks at Eliza's serious face, already hardening into the lines of adulthood, and sees the fierce protectiveness the girl has for her brother, maternal instinct in its fledgling stages, and thinks, perhaps, she can head off disaster before it repeats.
Izumi watches Eliza try to take care of Alphonse, and puts a hand over her own stomach, thinking of what she does not understand. She has long lost her chance to learn being a mother, and the idea of learning from a girl less than half her age is peculiar. She believes in life as a lesson, however, and takes her cues from Eliza, and soon it is ... easy, to let them into her heart, to care for them, to doctor their hurts even when she doesn't cause them, to teach Eliza to cook for whenever the Elrics leave her care.
Despite her best intentions, she is fond of these children, and does not want them harmed.
She guides their hands as they draw their arrays, their minds through the stages of understanding, their bodies through the katas that she practices herself, each day.
The day the girl asks *that* question, Izumi lets her control slip a little, does not pull her blows quite as carefully as she normally would. The fear in her throat, which tightens every beat of her heart, whispers that it's too late, too late, she's already lost them--and she pushes that aside, taping a bandage across Eliza's nose and warning her of the dangers, trying to impress upon her the *gravity* of this.
And Eliza looks at her and nods, but doesn't say a word. Izumi is left only with hope, which is a paltry and weak thing--but it's all she has, and she clings to it tenaciously, repeats herself at least twice a day throughout their other lessons: *Human alchemy disrupts the natural flow of the universe; to attempt it will only destroy you.*
She repeats this, and hopes they will listen.
She has already lost one child to that doorway and its smiling keeper. She will be damned if she loses any other.
11. Bathrobe
"It looks good on you," Roy said.
Ed gave him a look of haughty, feline disgust. The effect was distinctly ruined by the bags and folds of the dark blue bathrobe she wore, puddling on the ground around her feet, gaping heavily above and below the loosely knotted belt. She held up both of her hands, palms turned upwards and fingers curled over the hems of the sleeves. "It's way too fucking big. I look like some kind of little kid in this."
"I wouldn't say *that*," Roy protested, sliding his hands through the lower gap at the front to rest his palms on her hips. "It's charming." After a moment's thought, he flexed his fingers, testing the feel of her skin, still slightly damp from her shower.
She wrinkled her nose down at him. "And you're a pervert. This is almost worse than the fucking dress."
"Almost?" he asked, then leaned forward when she didn't try to shove him off. He rested his cheek on the top slope of her chest, between collarbone and breasts, and breathed a deep sigh of content. Ed leaned back, and put her hands on his shoulders, ostensibly for balance.
"Almost," she said, though with less heat than before. "But only because I'm not parading around half of the fucking military in this."
"Their loss," he said cheerfully, and kissed her collarbone. "I'm willing to confess you look better in this than I think you would in a miniskirt."
Ed laced her automail fingers through his hair and yanked, hard. "You have a sick and twisted mind."
He winced at that, but didn't lift his head. "Every man has his dreams, Edward. You should be more sympathetic." Under the too-large folds of the robes, his hands began to creep upwards, splaying wide against her back. "For example, right now, attractive as this is, it's in the way." He looked up at her, and grinned as he tugged her closer.
"Then fucking say so earlier," Ed said, and kissed him.
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first story: omgomgomg Al ^____^ he's so cute ^________________^ (and sniffle, he's so cute ;____; wait, I already said that).
second story: this was my favorite of the three. You got the maternal theme in this down to a-fucking-art yo.
third: one word. Sexy. >3
Whoo~ Catch up on sleep, you~~ ♥
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I'm glad you liked theeeese♥♥♥♥
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The other two were nicely written, as well! Not that it's anything I haven't already told ya before! ^_^;; But it's true! You and Harukami are my absolute favorite FMA writers!
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And regardless, I always really appreciate hearing from readers, and I'm terribly glad you've enjoyed the drabbles. XD Thanks so much for commenting! ♥♥♥♥
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