?

Log in

No account? Create an account
 
 
20 January 2011 @ 04:52 am
Fic: Finding Sunshine After Rain (ch 7)  
Finally finished this chapter! Yay for fight scenes!

Title: Finding Sunshine After Rain
Rating: R 
Pairing: Edwin
Series: Anime 1, oddly enough. But there will be a few shout-outs to Brotherhood
Summary: In order to get revenge on the FullMetal Alchemist, someone sends Winry over to the other side of the gate and forces her to act like another Earth-lookalike of herself, but there's more at stake than just a broken heart...
chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6





Sergeant Masten looked at the sketch on his desk; black eyes squinting and trying to make something of it.

Lang leaned back in his chair on two legs, explaining, “That’s the man that I saw following Miss Wendy around. He thinks he’s good at sneaking around, but,” Lang smirked. “I’m better.”

“This is all you got?” Masten sighed. “I can’t make a thing out of this! Borrow a Brownie next time and get an actual picture!”

“Even if it’s not that good, it does prove something,” Lang challenged him. “There is someone following her around. Most likely the same one that Alphonse said threatened her.”

“Threatened her into doing what?”

The Chinese man shrugged. “Who knows? Alphonse didn’t say.”

Masten gave a skeptical grunt and put the sketch at the top of the large pile of papers on his desk. “You sure this is the man?”

“Absolutely. MaiLi and I confirmed it.”

The sergeant wasn’t sure who ‘MaiLi’ was, but it didn’t matter. “I’ll look into it. I don’t think I’ll get very far without conclusive proof, but it’s something.”

“I can keep an eye out, if you like.”

“I would like that, but,” Masten gave him an analyzing look. “I’m wondering why a man like you is so willing to help people you barely know.”

A grin came to Lang’s face—a grin that made Masten wonder. He did put his chair back down on four legs, though. “I don’t know, really—I know I just feel like I should help them.”

Masten shrugged, as if he had given up the subject. “I suppose you’ll forgive me for being interested.” Still, his eyes narrowed. “But from what I hear, you’re the son of a noble under the last emperor, who fled during the rebellion fourteen years ago—or is that just a cover story?”

Lang’s expression did not change as Masten continued, “The son of an impoverished noble would have no need to flee halfway across the world, but an imperial prince would.”

Lang only grinned, revealing nothing. “You found out a lot, Sergeant Masten.”

“I just know where to look,” Masten grinned back. “Now, let’s get back to the main issue—this man you saw, what was he doing?”

Lang seemed eager to get back to their previous subject. “Just watching her, from a distance. Watching her, like he was waiting for something.”

“That’s not too unusual,” Masten argued. “A pretty girl like Miss Wendy—she’s bound to have some admirers.”

“I don’t think so. He looks at her with a type of longing—but not that type. It’s more like…longing for something that he lost. And then if he sees Edward, his eyes light up with fury…But I’m not sure why.”

“Hmm…” Masten thought it over. “Well, get me a picture or something and I can put a warning out. I’ll ask my wife to keep a lookout, too.”

“Your wife?” Lang gave him a curious look. “What does she do?”

Masten smirked, dark eyes twinkling. “She’s a reporter.”

Lang gave him a look of disbelief, but Masten never let up that grin. “A special kind of reporter.”





Ed let out a sigh as he walked the streets of London, wishing he hadn’t forgotten to pack a lunch that day. There was nothing worse than trying to teach a chemistry class to bratty kids on an empty stomach.

Maybe he’d go back and get something to eat at that little café that opened up on the edge of Germantown. He heard they made really good sauerkraut—

He had been walking down the sidewalk, lost in thoughts of food, when he heard a snippet of conversation that made him stop in his tracks.

“Doesn’t matter what we do, it’ll only get worse. Damn British…”

This made him especially interested, since it was said in German.

Ed turned, seeing a narrow alley between two large buildings. He stepped closer, listening in;

“Should’ve done this ages ago. Strikes are just the first step. Once we start the riots, they’ll see we’re serious. Once they’re afraid, they’ll give us what we want.”

It was a group of five men, dressed in working clothes, pointing at newspapers and gesturing. The tall one seemed to be the leader of the group; he spoke while the others nodded and said a few words in agreement. Given their subject of conversation, Ed didn’t have to think too hard to figure out who they were.

He really should just ignore it—it wasn’t his business, and he shouldn’t get involved.

It wasn’t like he didn’t already have enough problems.

But he had heard about these union strikes. They said they were peaceful strikes for bettering the common man, but men had already died for their cause.

He should just walk away; he shouldn’t say anything—he shouldn’t—

“Hey,” Ed stepped out from where he was hiding, glare on his face. “What the Hell are you doing?”

The men turned in alarm, but dropped the worry once they heard him speak their language. The leader cut through the crowd, saying, “We are organizing. We can’t anymore in Germantown—they expect us to do it there.”

Who expects you?” Ed demanded. “The police?”

“The British,” the leader said. “And their damn police. They want to try outlawing us from meeting now—they say we’re a ‘dangerous group’ and could be counted as hostile.”

“They’re right,” Ed folded his arms across his chest. “How many people have died now because of your riots? And what about the shooting at Madame’s bar—”

Another man spoke up this time, “An unfortunate incident, but necessary. You can’t make change without having a few martyrs.”

Ed fought the urge to punch the man’s face for saying that. It didn’t matter if someone was a martyr—they were still a person! “I don’t like you making trouble around here.” He didn’t like living in a neighborhood that wasn’t safe for Al.

Or Wendy.

“Oh yeah?” one of the other strikers laughed. “And what are you going to do? Go to the police?”

“I just might,” Ed snarled. “I’m sick of people like you thinking it’s okay to kill people, as long as its for a good cause!”

The leader and another man exchanged glances. “I thought a German like you’d understand what we’re trying to do—”

“I get that your wages suck. I get that you’re fighting for better working conditions. What I don’t get is why you think killing people and dangerous rioting is the way to go about doing it!” He stood defiant and glaring, and for a moment, he forgot that he was yelling at five men who were twice his size.

He remembered quickly when the leader sighed. “It’s a pity. If you’re not for us, then you’re against us. And if you’re going to go to the police—” He pulled a pistol out from inside his coat. “Then we have no choice.”

Ed stared at the gun. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. How the fuck do you expect me to believe you’re working for a just cause when you plan on murdering me—”

“This isn’t about just causes,” Another one of the strikers said, pulling out another gun. “This is about getting results.”

“And we can’t get results if you’re going to turn us in.”

Ed took a glance back at the alley entrance. It wasn’t that far away…if he could get back to the street, then maybe— “One more thing before you kill me,” he said, putting on a look of indifference.

“What’s that?” the leader asked, cocking his gun.

Ed pointed to a window in one of the buildings, “Do you usually invite snipers to your striker meetings?”

The strikers turned, and by the time they realized it was a bluff, Ed was already on his way back to the street. They must have really been worried about the police catching them if they believed that

“Get him!” he heard yelled in German, and realized that this might not be as easy as he thought.

It was mid-afternoon—there weren’t nearly enough people out to get lost in a crowd. He’d have to run for it, then.

And so he ran.

Years of being chased by amoral alchemists, homunculi, and crazed Nazis made being chased a bit nostalgic, but still not easy. Most of the strikers were working men who were able to keep chase despite Ed’s attempts to lose them.

He darted around a corner on one of the backstreets, as the strikers raced after him—thankfully, people seemed to get out of his way when he rushed towards them. Ed zigzagged around pedestrians and bicycles as the strikers followed behind, often pushing through crowds to keep up.

Ed chanced a look back as he dashed through a sidewalk café, dodging tables—the four strikers had been whittled down to five. Looks like the fat one couldn’t keep up after all. Though the rest hadn’t given up yet.

Damn, they weren’t kidding about wanting to kill me!

The sidewalk was blocked off ahead. Already he was skidding on gravel leading up to the construction. And by the pounding footfalls behind him, the strikers weren’t stopping soon. So…

Ed didn’t even look back as he switched direction and darted into the street, brown trench coat flailing behind him.

Hooonk! “Ack!” Ed held his hands up as a car skidded to a halt mere inches from him. The driver, face red with anger, cursed at him in words Ed wasn’t sure were English. “Sorry!” he called back to the driver, racing back into traffic.

Honks and the sounds of brakes screeching trailed after him, but once he made it to the other side, he didn’t stop. It was the right choice given the other honks and loud cursing he heard behind him.

He dashed into a back alley, but before he made it to the end, he heard shots being fired. Damn it, hurry up! He chastised himself, pushing his tired legs further. Another right, just another right and then a left and—

Bang! Bang!

One of the bullets ricochet off a brick wall, inches from his face. He dodged under a clothesline, the flapping clothes (hopefully) obscuring him from vision. Ed skidded into a mud puddle, but didn’t let that stop him, not when he was close—He took a right, past the printing shops and produce stand and—

Ran smack into Masten.

“Elric?” the sergeant managed to get out after seeing Edward Elric dash through an alleyway and dart right for him. “What the Hell—”

“You’re always down here around three,” Ed panted out, appreciating the brief rest. “Need a favor—”

A gunshot fired as the strikers came out of the alleyway, and by the way Masten’s eyebrows heightened, he understood the nature of this “favor”.

“You owe me,” he sighed, taking out his whistle. “Go back to the bar. We’ll talk there.”

“But—!” Ed really didn’t want to go there—have to explain to Wendy what was going on.

“Just do it!” Masten glared back at him, putting the whistle to his lips. The tweet-tweet! echoed from the buildings, instantly alerting any police that might be in the area, and the strikers.

They were not pleased to see that their activities had already been reported.

Ed still had to run, but he was barely three blocks away when there were enough officers to contain the strikers.

He had enough time to lean against a building and wheeze, waiting for his heart to stop racing, and considered his options.

Knowing Masten, if he didn't follow his instructions, the sergeant would personally hunt him through all of London anyway.

And right now, he really, really, wanted a beer…and maybe a nap afterwards.

The smart thing to do was to do what Masten said, he knew that, but…

Wendy.

He didn’t want to go back there. He didn’t want to have to deal with it. If he could ignore it, then maybe—

No. No, he wasn’t going to do this again. Ignoring the problem didn’t work. The only way to fix the problem was to confront it—something he was trying very hard not to do.

But he’d have to confront it sometime. Wendy was here, and was most likely not going away any time soon. And unless he never wanted to visit Madame’s again, he should set things straight between him and Wendy.

It would be hard, but he’d have to do it.





He probably should’ve taken note of his appearance before he did it.

“Oh, Honey, what happened to you?” Madame asked, giving him a look the second he walked in.

“What?” Ed asked, but looking down, he could see that there was a considerable amount of dirt on his coat and pants, in addition to the hems of both being wet (how did that happen?), not to mention the bit of mud on his shoes and—sauerkraut in his hair? Again? What the Hell—

Oh, right, the café. Didn’t he bump into one of those tables? He couldn’t quite remember…

“Ask Masten,” Ed sighed, moving to sit down at the bar. “Right now, I just want a beer and a nap—”

But Madame grabbed him before he could sit down. “Honey, you’re not sitting at my bar looking like that.”

“Hey!”

Madame turned to Wendy, who had been sweeping up and pretending very hard that Ed wasn’t there. “Best clean him up, don’t want dripping mud everywhere.” Was it Ed’s imagination, or did she seem quite pleased to have that excuse?

Wendy at least, didn’t look as happy about it—but she looked at Ed once more and sighed. “Fine.” She grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him toward the stairs. “Come on.”

Ed glanced nervously as Wendy led up him the stairs—up where Madame’s other business operated. “Um…shouldn’t we go in the backroom?”

“What, and have you get dirt all over the kitchen?”

“Well, you took me back there before—”

“That’s because they were busy upstairs,” Wendy rolled her eyes. “But business isn’t on now and the girls are out.”

The stairs let out to a narrow hallway, lined with small bedrooms. Well, duh, Ed remembered the nature of Madame’s second business. Wendy didn’t lead him into one of these, though (and he’d probably freak out if she did). She opened a door at the end of the hall, leading to a tiny bathroom.

“You know, I can clean myself up,” Ed muttered, taking off his coat and hanging it over the bath curtain rail. Ew, Madame wasn’t kidding about it being dirty.

“Knowing her, she was just begging for an excuse to get us to talk to each other,” Wendy took a washcloth off the towel rack. “Now, what did you do to yourself?” she said, turning on the faucet.

She’d find out anyway once Masten came by. “Stepped in a mud puddle, almost fell down on gravel, nearly got hit by a couple cars, got shot at, you know, the usual. And there was something with sauerkraut, apparently.” He noticed Wendy stiffened at the “got shot at”, but she tried to hide it.

“Just a normal day for you, then.” she said, turning off the faucet. By the way she slightly chewed her lip (something that Winry used to do when she was nervous) it still bothered her. “Who’d you annoy this time?”

It was better to make it seem like not such a big deal. Sitting on the side of the bathtub, he tried picking out a piece of sauerkraut from his bangs. “Bunch of German strikers. They didn’t like it when I said their methods were wrong.”

He noticed she didn’t seem as worried after he said that. She stopped biting her lip, at least. “If you attack everyone you disagree with, then I’m not surprised. Here,” She took the washcloth and helped him get the piece of sauerkraut out.

“So I’m wrong to tell people to piss off if I don’t like that their methods kill people?”

Wendy gave him a look. “If they have a gun and aren’t afraid to use it? Probably.” There must have been a lot more things stuck in his hair, as Wendy grabbed for a comb and let his hair out of the ponytail.

“I’m not gonna give them a free pass to do whatever they want. Their methods are half the reason it’s so dangerous for Germans these days. If they’d just shut up and go back to work, then the British would leave us alone!”

Wendy still didn’t buy it. “There’s a difference between ‘disapproving’ and ‘making them want to shoot you’, Edward. I would’ve thought you learned it by now. Now stop moving or I won’t get whatever this is out of your hair.”

“Stop pulling!” he hissed, as she sat next to him, comb snagging in his hair.

It soon became silent, and Ed noticed, it was an oddly natural silence. Before this, he hadn’t thought of anything off about the situation of Wendy sitting next to him, brushing his hair (Well, trying to get scraps of sauerkraut and who knows what else out of his hair, but still…). For a few minutes, he even forgot that the situation between them was supposed to be awkward.

And that was the awkward thing.

Sure things were still kind of rocky, but they fell back into a natural rhythm, as if this sort of relationship had existed for years.

For a girl who was practically a clone of a girl he once knew, she had everything down pat—complete with things that shouldn’t even be possible for her to replicate. When he was around Wendy and not paying attention (not reminding himself that she wasn’t Winry every few seconds) he felt comforted, safe; like he was with someone he knew he could be himself around.

It was the same feeling he felt around Winry, now that he thought about it—that she was his home; his support.

How could Wendy possibly give him this feeling, when he knew she wasn’t the real thing and knew it was just his poor, confused brain messing with him?

He couldn’t deny he didn’t enjoy this feeling—stuck in an alternate world without any family besides his brother did make him miss feeling like he was welcomed, and with someone he could trust, but…

Could a fake ever measure up to the real thing?

Could Wendy—a girl he hadn't known for that long—ever measure up with Winry, a girl he knew all his life?

But that led back to the problem. Getting home. And even if he got home, Winry might’ve moved on. There had to be a right answer to this problem in there somewhere, but…

Wendy must’ve noticed those slight glances he sent in her direction. “Thinking about something?” she asked, and decided at that moment to give another tug with the comb.

Ed let out a hiss of pain and denied it. “No.”

“Yes you are,” she countered, tugging again. “You keep looking at me funny. If you’re thinking something, you better spit it out.”

Spit it out…right…he would’ve run from those strikers all over again rather than tell her the real problem. Still, there was the other problem that needed addressing. The record needed to be set straight on that one.

Though, it was just as hard to talk about it as it was the main issue. “Wendy,” he began, then stopped mid-sentence. If he didn’t do this right, she might end up hating him.

And he was never good with words.

He turned back to her, knowing he probably looked guilty. “About…the other night…you know…”

By the way that her mouth parted slightly, she did know what he was talking about. “We don’t have to talk about it, Ed,” she said, reaching up to his hair again.

But he grabbed her hand before she could reach her destination. “Yes, we do.” Wait…didn’t he not want to talk about this?

But he had to. Not just for her sake—he needed to get it out to himself as well.

That didn’t mean he could look her in the eye while doing it, though. “Wendy…what happened the other night…sorry if you thought that I…” He found he couldn’t quite finish the sentence.

“Thought that you what?”

He’d have to finish the sentence. Hoping he wasn’t blushing (which probably meant that he was), he managed to get out, “Thought that I…used you. I was fucked up and upset and wasn’t thinking straight, sure, but…I don’t want you to think that it…that it meant nothing to me.”

Ed almost wished that she’d yell at him once he was finished. But she did not.

“What did it mean to you?” she asked, picking up the comb again as if she didn’t care one way or the other.

But she did care. He had known her long enough—No, he had known Winry long enough to pick up on it—the fact that it translated to Wendy was just a side-effect. Still, he couldn’t give her satisfaction. “I don’t know,” he admitted, even knowing the truth would hurt her. “But…But don’t think I wanted to hurt you. I didn’t mean to, so—”

“Ed,” Wendy sighed, cutting him off. “I never thought that. Actually…I was more worried about you.”

“Me?” Why would she worry about him? It was his fault and he had been thinking about another woman when they were—

“Yes.” Somehow, she found it in her to look at him with pity. But why would she…? “I know you’re upset about it…about everything. When you were avoiding me I thought you just… couldn't handle it.”

“…I couldn’t.” He still couldn’t.

“But there is something you need to understand,” she told him, placing a hand against his cheek and turning him back to look at her. To look in her eyes. In them, he saw fear and upset and pity and then…courage. For a moment, she stared at him with such a defiant look that he wondered what exactly she was going to say, and then…“What…what happened the other night; It wasn’t your fault. It was my choice, too. I made a choice and I don’t regret it.”

Ed swallowed. It was good that she didn’t regret it, because he certainly did.

“But I know you’re still upset about it, so we don’t have to get into it. If you want, we can forget that it ever happened, and move on.”

Forget about it? But…he’d never forget about it. She’d never forget about it. They’d be constantly thinking about it whenever they were together. It wouldn’t go away.

But maybe right now, he’d believe it could. “Okay.”





Ed had at least gotten the mud off his shoes and the sauerkraut out of his hair when Masten came by. While Masten and Ed sat in a corner of the bar, talking over the strikers’ attack (Well, Masten did most of the talking; Ed did a bit of yelling and cursing) Winry was still upstairs, taking the last of Madame’s girls’ linen down to be washed.

Of course, this meant she’d be in proximity with the girls, who had come back from town and were about to start their work. One of them, Maria, decided it was time to interrupt her. “Madame said that Elric boy came over all dirty and you had to clean him up. Is it true?”

Winry gave her a look. “More like dig sauerkraut of his hair and gravel out of his coat. And don’t get me started on the mud—”

Now another, Gretchen, had come out of her room and joined the conversation. “Did you have to take his shirt off?” she asked, grin on her face.

And why did this matter to them? “Maybe.”

Both Maria and Gretchen grinned wider. “Does he look…good?” Maria had to cover her mouth to keep herself from giggling.

Winry hadn’t expected prostitutes to be the giggly type, but you never could tell. “I guess? Why do you care?”

“He’s been coming to the bar for a couple years now,” Gretchen explained. “But whenever he was offered one of us, he always refused. He does look nice, doesn’t he? But we always wondered why he refused…we wondered if he might not be into women…”

Winry only had to remember that night and try not to snort. “Trust me, he is.”

Now that sent Maria and Gretchen both into fits of giggles. “So it’s true? Madame said ‘something’ happened between you two. Did you really…?”

Winry didn’t even have to answer. The red flush on her face told all, and Maria and Gretchen outright cackled now. Winry reminded herself why she didn’t have too many girl friends back in Amestris. “What’s he like? Is he a good lover? Does he have a big…you know?

Winry had been about to tell them it wasn’t any of their business, but—“What.”

“We had a bet going, you know,” Maria said through fits of giggles. “Gretchen thinks he’s six-and-a-half, but I thought someone that cute just had to be a full seven inches and—”

“I’m not answering that,” Winry said, turning away before they could ask any more embarrassing questions.

Besides, it wasn’t like she had gotten down in the middle of the action and taken a measuring tape to it!

Though, when she went downstairs and saw Ed still conversing with Mustang, she did amuse herself wondering just how Ed would react if he knew what was a hot topic of Madame’s girls’ conversation.

Madame was nearby, and noticed her smiling at Ed. “So, did you work everything out?”

Winry knew Madame had an ulterior motive for it. “Yes.”

“Good. Masten told me what happened. He’s lucky to have gotten out unscathed.”

Winry shrugged. “He’s been through worse.” She had said it to herself, but Madame had heard her.

And when Winry looked back at the woman, she was giving her an analyzing look. Madame took a puff on her cigarette. “You know what he said?” she nodded toward Ed.

“What?” Winry was getting the feeling that this was leading somewhere.

And she was right. “He said there was a girl he used to like…a girl back in Germany. A girl who looked, and acted a lot like you. Funny, that.”

“Yeah…” Winry said, feeling her face flush hot. She hoped it was just Madame speculating…but then Madame gave her an accusing look.

And she knew she was caught.

“I’ve got reasons,” she whispered, looking away.

Madame gave another disapproving sigh, but left it at that. “I hope you’ll tell him eventually.”

“I will,” Winry said, mainly to keep Madame from saying anymore.

She hoped that she’d tell him eventually, but she didn’t know…

She had already gotten one warning. Ed had nearly been killed by it. She didn’t want to get another anytime soon.

Madame looked out the bar’s windows; it was starting to get dark. “Well, best get ready for work. They’ll be comin’ in soon.”

Winry nodded, and headed for the backroom—

She saw something in the corner of her eye. She turned to the bar’s windows, but saw nothing there. She scanned the view of the street, but nothing was out of the ordinary, so why did she think—?

That was when she noticed both Ed and Masten staring at her. Looking confused—or at least Ed did, anyway. Masten on the other hand, looked like he was trying to figure something out—

She should’ve known he’d be too much like the real Mustang.

“Wendy?” Ed asked, “Something wrong?”

But she had to shrug it off quickly, for his sake. “Nope.”

Even if she pretended nothing was wrong, she couldn’t help the feeling that she was still being watched…that Smith still lurked behind a corner, ready to hurt Ed—or worse—if she said anything.

But, why? What’s it to him if Ed knows it’s me? Why does he want Ed—and me—to suffer like this?





Smith ducked back into the alleyway, reading himself for another transmutation. That was too close. The brothel woman hadn’t seen him because she wasn’t looking for it, but that Winry girl—

He didn’t think he had to worry. If Miss Rockbell had told Edward Elric something, he wouldn’t just be sitting there and ignoring her. Knowing him, he’d be up and ready to do something about it, promising to protect her like any decent lover would.

Still, even he knew something about women to know she wouldn’t keep the act up forever. She pretended to be strong, but in reality she was weak—and soon she would break. He’d have to strike soon if he wanted to leave an impact that would scar Edward Elric forever.

He’d have to plan carefully, if that damned Masten was on the case—

“Hello.”

Smith turned, glaring at the shape in the darkness. “Who are you?”

The Chinese man stepped out from the darkness, arms folded across his chest, and a smirk on his face. “That’s just the question I wanted to ask you.”

Smith looked at him carefully—he was obviously raised as a fighter, but he wasn’t armed. “I see you don’t have a weapon,” he said, preparing to transmute.

Did he ever stop smiling? “Don’t need one. MaiLi!”

Smith heard a whistling noise and barely had a chance to dodge—a knife hat been thrown. Sitting on the roof of the bar was another person, presumably Chinese, dressed in all black and wearing a white mask.

Now the accomplice tossed the man a sword, and he lunged. Smith only had a second to transmute—a small shield of rock burst from the ground in red sparks, momentarily pausing his attacker.

He expected the man to attack again, but he didn’t—still staring in surprise, he called up to his accomplice, speaking Chinese. Something was thrown at the ground, summoning a puff of smoke—when it cleared, they were gone.





“Your Highness—that man—” MaiLi said as soon as they were safe, on another one of the endless rooftops of London.

“Quite an interesting battle technique, isn’t it?” Lang said, continuing to smile. “Looks like Ed is in for more trouble than we thought.”
Tags: , ,
 
 
Current Mood: blahblah
Current Music: Bad Romance - Lady Gaga
 
 
 
(Anonymous) on January 20th, 2011 12:27 pm (UTC)
SilentReader
you should have heard me squeal when i saw you updated this story...

oooooohhhh... things are getting pretty intense! and Ling - er, Lang plus Maili got some action in this chapter... weeeee!!!

though i had to laugh when those two girls asked Winry about Ed's... er... "length"... XD

i'm looking forward to your upcoming updates! XD
Kit: Edwininulovinkit on January 20th, 2011 10:04 pm (UTC)
Re: SilentReader
Ed better pick up the pace or Lang will out-action him. XD

Fangirls are scary, be they real or fictional. XD

IDK when I'll be able to update again, but I hope its not too much longer.
Barking at the windevil_little_dog on January 20th, 2011 04:32 pm (UTC)
Enjoyed this chapter a lot. I did kind of roll my eyes at the prostitutes saying "You know" instead of using 'dick' or 'cock' or some other word, because I found that a bit unbelievable.

Still the scene with Ed and Winry was very sweet, and I can't wait to see what Lang and MaiLi come up with.
Kit: Edwininulovinkit on January 20th, 2011 10:00 pm (UTC)
I did the first draft with them wondering about Ed's 'cock', but it sounded funnier in my head if they called it his "you know". Somehow it made the image of Winry's dawning comprehension hilarious. I guess it just doesn't transfer over well from my head to type sometimes.

I kinda justified it by the fact that they wanted answers, and since Winry's a bit of a prude (compared to them anyway; she's not gonna kiss and tell at this moment in time, but later on...XD) they figured they might get it if they used euphemisms as opposed to harsher words.

Edited at 2011-01-20 10:31 pm (UTC)
alchemyotaku75: all things are possiblehaganeneko on January 20th, 2011 10:16 pm (UTC)
I found two typos (sorry! My beta glasses are on today!) Ed chanced a look back as dashed through a sidewalk café I think you left out "he" between 'as' and 'dashed' and Wendy stiffed should be 'stiffened'.

You always write wonderfully detailed and very exciting actions scenes--this one is no exception! ^^ Nice addition of 'Lang' (Though honestly, I thought of Fritz Lang from COS at first! XD) and I'd love to see him and MaiLi continue to be a thorn in Smith's side.

Actually, I could see the two prostitutes having this conversation with Winry about Ed's 'attributes'; after all, Winry isn't one of the working girls, so I could see them being very patronizing toward her.

Looking forward to the next chapter!

Kit: Edwin2inulovinkit on January 20th, 2011 10:31 pm (UTC)
Ugh, I always think I get them all and then...Thanks for the help, though. I read really fast so sometimes its hard to get every one.

'Lang' and 'MaiLi' are going to get a few more action scenes, but Ed's gonna get some soon, too. I can't let Lang have all the fun.

I think if the whole thing wasn't so much of a weird issue between Winry and Ed, Winry might've gone and told them. Instead its more of a "guys, this is really embarrassing, so can we not talk about this?" She's just got other things to worry about right now and does't have the time to discuss the exact proportions of Ed's penis. XD
(Anonymous) on January 22nd, 2011 11:48 pm (UTC)
Loving it, but is Mustang's wife Hawkeye by any chance and when will we see her?
Kit: Royaiinulovinkit on January 23rd, 2011 01:04 am (UTC)
Mustang is indeed married to Hawkeye in this universe. She doesn't have a big part and won't show up for a while, but she will make an appearance eventually.