(no subject)
Apr. 22nd, 2004 06:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheenAnd now, just for fun.
Edward Elric dragged his feet along the sidewalk. He stopped in front of the apartment building, wrapped a hand around his right wrist, holding the arm closer to his chest. He kicked a heel, steeled himself, cleared the railing of the stairs with a leap and opened the gates to hell.
Hot air hit him the second he stepped in. Oh shit, he thought with dread. She saw him coming. Oh shit, he thought with a deeper dread, he hadn’t covered up the open wiring well enough. She was going to eat him alive. It would be the end of an era and the Fuhrer would probably send him off with some dumb fancy funeral just to spite him.
Edward closed his eyes, bracing for the worst. There was shouting. There was a loud crash, but he was left alive long enough to open his eyes, and this confused him, before he saw what he’d walked in on. Winly Rockbell, evidently, had had a prior appointment. Said appointment was warding off an assault from the blunt end of a screwdriver with a helmet grabbed off of the armor in the living room.
“Mooo~ther!” Clang. “I don’t see!” Clang. “How this such is a big deal---OW!” She dropped the helmet.
Winly lowered the tool. “Not a big deal?” She hissed at her daughter, and whether the girl winced at the tone or the new bump on her head it was hard to tell. “Not even a big enough deal to /talk to your mother about this/?!”
There was his chance, Edward thought. He could just slip behind her, and up the stairs, and out of sight, and then he could find Al, and then he could maybe negotiate some sort of treaty that did not demand one bloodied Elric corpse laid out on the carpet. They’d both learned something about diplomacy over the years, after all—
Except that Winly had to turn at right that moment in her tirade, meeting his eyes at the door and shooting that plan to all hell--
“Your father—Ed.” She looked surprised. “You’re back.” Oh thank god, he thought he heard the girl mutter behind her.
“I’m back,” agreed Edward, raising his hand. This turned out to be a mistake, as it was his right.
“You…” Winly started. “You.” She was really winding up now. She shot a glance at her kid. Edward wondered if he could still throw himself out the door and avoid-- “EDWARD ELRIC. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT.”
Five minutes and what he was sure had to be a couple of vengeful zeros extra on to his bill later, Edward sat on that old living room couch, moved from Leisenburgh, with his battered limb resting in his lap and a sulking blonde teenager to his left. They nursed their identical bruises on their skulls and felt very much like family.
“Dad’s pissed at me too,” said the girl, sullenly.
“Ah?” Edward eyed her. “That’s kind of impressive. What did you /do/?”
His niece held out her right arm. She was wearing a long sleeve. She pulled it back, past her elbow, and showed him. He sat up.
“Where’d you get that?”
She pressed her lips together. “…that place on the corner by the north bridge. What about you?” She nodded at his arm, where the plating near the joint had been torn open to expose all of her mother’s work at its finest and most trashed.
“Ruins in Creta. Angry chimera.” A really big chimera.
“Oh.”
Edward sighed, pressed the heel of his palm between his eyes, and shut them tight. “Your parents really do have grounds to kill me for that thing, you know.”
“…and you’re pissed at me too now.” The girl sighed miserably. “Uncle, I just thought it looked cool.”
“Hey, I never said that it didn’t. But damnit, you’ve got to realize something. This family--” Out of the corner of his eye, Edward waited for doom to reappear from the door to the back with the toolbox, and pointedly did /not/ look at the joints freshly limned into his niece’s pale, skinny, fourteen-year-old arm. “--has had a few really bad experiences with tattoos…”
Because clearly, depending on the circumstances, Ed would be a) the coolest uncle EVER and b) ones. worst. nightmare. Mostly because of point a, actually...
Edward Elric dragged his feet along the sidewalk. He stopped in front of the apartment building, wrapped a hand around his right wrist, holding the arm closer to his chest. He kicked a heel, steeled himself, cleared the railing of the stairs with a leap and opened the gates to hell.
Hot air hit him the second he stepped in. Oh shit, he thought with dread. She saw him coming. Oh shit, he thought with a deeper dread, he hadn’t covered up the open wiring well enough. She was going to eat him alive. It would be the end of an era and the Fuhrer would probably send him off with some dumb fancy funeral just to spite him.
Edward closed his eyes, bracing for the worst. There was shouting. There was a loud crash, but he was left alive long enough to open his eyes, and this confused him, before he saw what he’d walked in on. Winly Rockbell, evidently, had had a prior appointment. Said appointment was warding off an assault from the blunt end of a screwdriver with a helmet grabbed off of the armor in the living room.
“Mooo~ther!” Clang. “I don’t see!” Clang. “How this such is a big deal---OW!” She dropped the helmet.
Winly lowered the tool. “Not a big deal?” She hissed at her daughter, and whether the girl winced at the tone or the new bump on her head it was hard to tell. “Not even a big enough deal to /talk to your mother about this/?!”
There was his chance, Edward thought. He could just slip behind her, and up the stairs, and out of sight, and then he could find Al, and then he could maybe negotiate some sort of treaty that did not demand one bloodied Elric corpse laid out on the carpet. They’d both learned something about diplomacy over the years, after all—
Except that Winly had to turn at right that moment in her tirade, meeting his eyes at the door and shooting that plan to all hell--
“Your father—Ed.” She looked surprised. “You’re back.” Oh thank god, he thought he heard the girl mutter behind her.
“I’m back,” agreed Edward, raising his hand. This turned out to be a mistake, as it was his right.
“You…” Winly started. “You.” She was really winding up now. She shot a glance at her kid. Edward wondered if he could still throw himself out the door and avoid-- “EDWARD ELRIC. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT.”
Five minutes and what he was sure had to be a couple of vengeful zeros extra on to his bill later, Edward sat on that old living room couch, moved from Leisenburgh, with his battered limb resting in his lap and a sulking blonde teenager to his left. They nursed their identical bruises on their skulls and felt very much like family.
“Dad’s pissed at me too,” said the girl, sullenly.
“Ah?” Edward eyed her. “That’s kind of impressive. What did you /do/?”
His niece held out her right arm. She was wearing a long sleeve. She pulled it back, past her elbow, and showed him. He sat up.
“Where’d you get that?”
She pressed her lips together. “…that place on the corner by the north bridge. What about you?” She nodded at his arm, where the plating near the joint had been torn open to expose all of her mother’s work at its finest and most trashed.
“Ruins in Creta. Angry chimera.” A really big chimera.
“Oh.”
Edward sighed, pressed the heel of his palm between his eyes, and shut them tight. “Your parents really do have grounds to kill me for that thing, you know.”
“…and you’re pissed at me too now.” The girl sighed miserably. “Uncle, I just thought it looked cool.”
“Hey, I never said that it didn’t. But damnit, you’ve got to realize something. This family--” Out of the corner of his eye, Edward waited for doom to reappear from the door to the back with the toolbox, and pointedly did /not/ look at the joints freshly limned into his niece’s pale, skinny, fourteen-year-old arm. “--has had a few really bad experiences with tattoos…”
Because clearly, depending on the circumstances, Ed would be a) the coolest uncle EVER and b) ones. worst. nightmare. Mostly because of point a, actually...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-04-22 04:18 pm (UTC)Don't. Tell. The. Parents.
-this was set down after I got my first tattoo (an orberous, BTW ^^;;) on the day 2 of my siblings graduated High School. Meaning family reunion time.
Bit of advice, ya don't ask your family not to pat your back so hard because it's sore without offering a damn good explination. Getting a tattoo is not considered a damn good explination.
Have NEVER gotten my back slapped SO Hard so many times... @_@ Step-mom reacted much the same as Winry there... ~_~ Poor poor girl. I feel for her.
But this is why they found out about my other 2 tattoos (also can be considered alchemical symbols, huh..) many months -after- the skin had healed... ^^;;