so sorry about your homunculus... we fed it red stones & now it's having a crisis over being aymab (assigned your mother at birth) ﾒ૦ﾒ૦💋
[now entering the brotherhood firing range]
▄︻芫═───💥 "great news!!! the thing you transmuted wasn't your mother and it wasn't even really alive (except for al's soul's little detour), so you don't have to feel *that* bad about it" okay now what? should we throw a party? should we invite teacher?
[megaphone voice] hey. no baby was murdered here. if you folks were wondering. which you weren't. just checkin. uhhh
▄︻芫═───💥 imagine if LUST all the homunculi were like. characters
(Dante x Sloth anon from before, I sent it before it was done. TwT)
I genuinely believe Dante and Sloth had sex at least once. Dante seems like the type of person to hatefuck the facsimile of the woman she probably felt "stole" Hohenheim from her.
(I felt like only putting a portion of this confession because the former half is already on this blog)
y’know I can’t help but agree here, deep down I’m a sucker for yuri like this. And frankly I don’t blame people for being repulsed
rewatching fmab with a friend and they only just then realized that hohenheim and paracelsus are based on the Same fucking guy. anyways i found that hilarious and decided to draw the ugly motherfucker (03 hohenheim) as a broom and it spiraled from there
[ID: A digital cover art called "What I've Done", inspired by Linkin Park's song of the same name. This cover refers to a Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 AU where Al is the homunculus Wrath, created in the same night as Sloth. Here, Ed stares at the viewer with a tired frown, hands curling into fists. He's mostly colored white with the exception of his red coat. Behind him, Sloth and Wrath are drawn with white ink against the black background, the only colors being Sloth's purple eye and the homunculi's Ouroboros marks. Sloth is on the left, also staring at the viewer with an indifferent expression, even if only her eye and eyebrow are seen. Wrath is on the right and he's turned around entirely, only his back seen. That exposes his Ouroboros, located on the back of his neck. His right arm, which has transformed into a blade, also shows a red scar; that's Ed's lost arm. Finally, the title distributes itself above each character, from left to right: What (Sloth) I've (Ed) Done (Wrath). Only "I've" is colored red. /End ID]
I do not guarantee an official final product out of this AU, but I would love to write a complete story one day. Maybe I'll just post the concepts on their own for now, though.
If you're curious about the AU, feel free to check the #homunculus al tag on my blog :) some posts are kind of outdated but it's still the same premise for the most part.
Characters: Alphonse Elric (Wrath), Edward Elric, Sloth, Dante, Envy; other characters to be added
Summary: "As soon as the homunculus decides to shove these feelings down his throat and take the alchemist to Dante for once and for all, his troubled opponent finally dares to say something that stops the world from going.
“... Al?”
It paralyzes Wrath."
A Homunculus Alphonse Elric AU.
Word count: TBA
AO3
First chapter
A/N: The trigger warnings apply to the entire AU, but in this chapter specifically, watch out for child abuse.
TRIGGER WARNINGS - death, repressed trauma, child abuse, physical and emotional abuse, emotional neglect, canon-typical violence, self-sacrifice, suicidal thoughts, blood and injury and loss of limbs. (More might be added)
P/roship DNI.
--
“... Yes, when I heard she died, I knew it would come to this. They are his sons… after all…”
The voice loses itself to the rain as the person – an older woman – notices a presence besides the disfigured, hungry creature between them. The water from the sky falls with so much force that you might even hear the thunder far away.
“Now, that is a surprise,” the woman comments, sounding more shocked by the boy than the fiend. “What is your name, dear?”
He only hugs himself tighter – his arms don’t feel the same skin –, like he’s going to be attacked for being asked that. He gazes at the creature which could not give a care about the world around it, then back at the older lady, who seems rather patient with him.
“Do you have one?” She merely asks, likely noting his speechlessness.
The boy sniffs, afraid of the rain, of the situation that brought him and the pained being to that dark basement. He feels cold.
“Oh dear, you’re trembling,” the woman approaches him, causing the other to flinch. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I just want to help you.”
Her voice is… very sweet. There’s something odd about it. Something… familiar?
She appears to take more of those red stones she gave the creature, and instead she gives it to him. The unnamed boy, as if he were hungry this whole time, eats the stones with the same ferocity.
When he’s done, she still offers a kind hand, even if the raindrops catch it. When he takes it, he… wraps his small arms around the woman, and finally cries. He hopes it’s not uncalled for, but she hums fondly and soothes his back with her free hand.
“There, there… you’re going to be alright,” she reassures him. “I will look after you two…”
There’s a small pause.
“... Wrath.”
--
“Wrath ? Really?”
“He has had it rough, Envy. As he grows, his anger will, too,” Dante explains.
“I doubt that.”
“Oh, you’ll see. Wrath will be the best of all of us.”
Envy glares at the boy, who clings to Dante in fear. Envy really doesn’t like Wrath.
“Tch,” the older homunculus storms off, Wrath flinching at the door being shut with force.
“Don’t worry about Envy. He’s just jealous I brought such a bright boy home,” she jokes. Wrath doesn’t feel much better. “Now, I think you should rest after such a horrible night.”
Even as Dante sets the bed for him, Wrath only stands still, staring at his own arms and legs. His whole body is pale, except for the right arm and left leg. They have scars that he doesn’t remember getting. Not that he remembers anything, but they don’t feel like they’re his.
“Wrath?” Dante calls him.
“I’m… I’m just confused,” he speaks up. “I’m not… human?”
“No, but you will be, once we get the Philosopher’s Stone.”
“But how? How was I born like this? Why are my limbs like this?”
“I don’t have all the answers, dear. You should be more concerned about yourself right now.”
Wrath doesn’t really argue, because he is tired, and he knows Dante has done more than enough to help him. The bed does look comfortable, so he climbs up and the latter tucks him in… yet another gesture that reminds him of a hazy past.
“Tomorrow will be a brighter day, I promise,” Dante whispers to him. “Good night, Wrath.”
She rubs his forehead, delicately touching his dark short bangs. Wrath can’t contain a small, relaxed smile. Eventually, Dante heads to the door, and when she’s about to leave, Wrath immediately remembers something.
“W-Wait, what about… her?” He wonders.
“She will be alright. She will be more presentable soon,” Dante winks, and finally shuts the door.
Wrath sighs, still conflicted about everything, but the weight of his exhaustion catches up with him, so he sinks in bed and closes his eyes.
Even while he sleeps, the sound of the rain outside might be trying to tell him something. Something he cannot understand. Yet something… important.
--
“Wrath? What are you doing over there?”
He gulps, “I-I didn’t want her to be alone.”
“She needs to rest, dear.”
“I know, but I know she’s scared and confused, so I just wanted to be here if he needs me.”
“Oh, Wrath, you’re very sweet. She’s very strong, though, you don’t need to worry about her.”
He listens to the breaths, which have become calmer as the homunculus begins to look more like the others. She’s not awake right now, at least.
“Yeah, but…” Wrath tries to argue.
“She will be okay. She needs more time alone. That way you will help her better.”
He knows Dante means well, but Wrath just… needs to be there for the other homunculus. He doesn’t know why, but that was the first thing he felt when he found her in that basement, begging for her life. Even if he was completely lost and scared, he still helped her leave.
“Let’s go back to bed,” Dante says, taking his hand before he protests. She tucks him in like usual and closes the door.
But just like most nights, Wrath’s chest grows tight and he can’t fall asleep.
So, he returns to that room.
Hearing the breathing…
Making sure it’s there.
Because if it isn’t…
--
This time, he hears gasps.
They’re not very loud, but they obviously alarm him.
Wrath is right next to the bed, finding the long-haired woman sweating, like she’s having a nightmare. Wrath has certainly had his fair share of nonsensical dreams, so he waits patiently for her to wake up instead of intervening.
Fortunately, she quiets down and… she opens her eyes, like she’s finally conscious again.
That makes the woman turn her eyes – colored and shaped just like his – to him. They stare at one another for a couple of seconds…
Then hers widen.
“You…” She speaks in a low voice, so… intensely.
Wrath’s smile immediately disappears. “Huh?”
“You… you two …”
Two? “What? D-Did I do something wrong?”
She shuts her eyes forcefully like her head is aching. She’s looking distressed again.
“Leave,” she orders. The woman isn’t at all loud, but the quietude is even scarier.
“Please, I d-didn’t mean to–”
“I told you to leave!”
Wrath backs off in fear and regret of making everything worse. The other homunculus becomes even more disturbed, as she sits on the bed and avoids the boy entirely.
And to make it all the more horrible, Dante and the other homunculi enter the room, none of them impressed once they find out the guilty.
“Oh, it had to be momma’s boy,” Envy rolls his eyes.
“I’ve told you not to come here, and you keep disobeying me,” Dante scolds firmly. This time, not patiently.
“I’m sorry!” Wrath begs. “I just wanted to help!”
“I’ve had enough , Wrath. Go back to your room, now.” The elder woman walks up to the bed to assist the panicking homunculus.
The other homunculi join her without paying Wrath any mind, causing him to stumble towards the door.
“Wait! Please, let me help!”
“You heard her, kid,” Envy bites, “get out.”
“B-But–!”
“I said GET OUT, you TWERP!”
Envy kicks Wrath in the gut at full force, enough so the latter is out of the room and the door is loudly shut. He doesn’t hear anything coming from there, and he doesn’t think he wants to with so much pain.
Wrath can barely walk back to his bedroom, which is strange since homunculi are supposed to be more resistant than the average human being. Still, the moment he closes his door, with as much silence as possible, he breaks down in tears.
He already knows they don’t pay him much attention, let alone like him. But disappointing Dante and hurting that woman were truly unforgivable. He messed up so badly. How is he going to be the best of them all if he keeps disrespecting them?
Wrath, once again, doesn’t sleep.
This time, he doesn’t even lie in bed, only sits on the floor with his back to the door.
Dante doesn’t come to get him like she usually does.
So, when Wrath leaves all by himself, he is surprised to catch a very long purple dress in the corridor.
It’s the woman. She’s… better, apparently.
Until her cold eyes meet his again.
Then she walks past him like he doesn’t exist.
Wrath only sees his teardrops falling on the floor.
--
Knock.
“Wrath? Are you in there?”
The boy sniffs, hugging himself pathetically.
Despite getting no answer, Dante opens the door anyway, with her same look of concern and gentleness.
“I thought you were still on your mission?” She questions.
Wrath doesn’t outright tell her that he failed – which he should –, but with his traumatized mind, he takes a hot breath.
“... Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
Wrath’s head boils, no longer hiding his teary face and his mess of a haircut, which seems to surprise Dante.
“The alchemist! He KNEW me! He knew MY FACE and- and he called me a NAME! And- And I KNOW him, too!” He raises his voice. “I’m suddenly having all these memories of us! WHY wouldn’t you tell me?!”
“I knew that telling you would take away your focus,” Dante says indifferently.
“But I COULDN’T bring him to you because YOU didn’t tell me who he was! You didn’t tell me who I was!”
“Wrath, I do not appreciate your tone.”
Immediately shivering inside, the boy swallows his lashing out, and then he feels defeated due to the battle.
“What am I supposed to do with him?” He questions.
“You’ll make him give your humanity back, because he owes you that. He owes that to all of you.”
Wrath doesn’t believe that answer to be any fulfilling, not as Ed dominates his every thought. Childhood memories, good times, and very bad ones, too. He and Ed were inseparable, they always looked after one another… He was never alone, even after their mother died.
He should be angry at Ed for giving birth to Wrath and to Sloth. He should hate Ed because he’s the reason why Sloth hates Wrath. But even then…
“... I trust you, Wrath. I know you will do the right thing,” Dante brings him back to the real world. “You just have to focus and not care about trivial things.”
Wrath only nods, eyes downcast. “Yes, ma’am.”
Dante hums, staying quiet for a few seconds before suggesting, “Would you like some tea? Only you and me?”
Once again, he nods.
“Perfect.”
She takes his hand and guides him downstairs.
(That’s all he ever does. Follow her. Follow Sloth and everyone else. Obey their commands and fight and never look back. And if he doesn’t, he’ll be punished harshly for it.)
(Maybe that’s why remembering a past where he wasn’t punished is affecting him so much.)
--
Despite everything, Wrath still can’t help worrying about Sloth.
He knows she’ll only reject him. He knows every time he clings to her, she’ll only walk away. Sloth is the same kind of cold Wrath felt when he was first found in the rain.
She’s the very opposite of Envy: the latter openly hits him and calls him names, angry that Dante seems to give Wrath more attention. Yet strangely enough, Dante doesn’t bat an eye at Envy’s attacks, or Sloth’s cruel neglect.
In fact, none of them… care. Lust, Gluttony, and Pride never step in for him. Arguably, Pride is busy being the Führer and he assigned Sloth to be his secretary, but Lust and Gluttony don’t bother.
Whether Wrath is left by himself at the mansion or not, he’s still lonely. He certainly hates it when they are home, because Envy loves making his life hell, and Sloth and the others pretend he doesn’t exist. The only useful thing Wrath does all day is train alchemy, by himself or with Dante. He’s pretty good at it, like he’s a natural. It must be due to his human limbs, of course, but he can’t help wondering if there might be something else behind it, too…
Eventually, he grows sick of it all. He’s tired of the rejection. He’s angry that Dante, who promised she would take care of him, never tries to protect him. Sometimes she’s right there when Envy hits him, yet she never speaks up.
Everything goes down the drain when Wrath finally uses his alchemy on someone. That being Envy.
It’s not calculated at all, though. It destroys the dinner room and it actually catches Envy by surprise as part of the ceiling falls on top of him before he can even dodge. Obviously, it’s not lethal to the first homunculus of the group, yet if looks could kill, Wrath’s pathetic life would certainly have ended with the way Envy glares at him. Yet Dante appears right away, already knowing the disaster is Wrath’s doing.
And of course… she doesn’t bother scolding Envy. Dante grabs Wrath’s arm – his human arm – so roughly that it burns.
“You’ve gone too far this time, Wrath,” the older woman berates, disappointed. She isn’t loud, not that she ever is.
“But Envy started it!”
“That is no excuse. You have to control your alchemy, remember? You can’t just use it for a dumb fight.”
“But he HITS me! He TERRORIZES me with every chance he gets!”
“I know you’re upset, Wrath, but you’ve got to calm down.”
“Why won’t you LISTEN to me?!” Wrath yells louder.
“I do listen, dear.”
“If you did, you would SHOW it!”
Even though Dante’s smile fades into something akin to intimidation, Wrath doesn’t stop.
“If you even CARED, you wouldn’t let Envy hit me!” He screams. “You would actually tell me why Sloth hates me! You would tell me why I have this power, these limbs, a-and where I came from! You just keep me trapped here day and night to do nothing but get beaten up or abandoned!” Angry tears spill from his purple eyes. “NONE OF YOU CARE ABOUT ME, AND YOU CARE EVEN LESS !”
Dante stares at him with a cold expression that is very unsettlingly similar to Sloth’s, but somehow more spiteful. Regardless, Wrath doesn’t take back anything he said, because he’s too frustrated to back down. He’s not afraid of Dante, either, since she’s not threatening.
That is, when the human woman heads to an old wardrobe Wrath never peeked in, since it’s locked, and he hears her opening it. From here, he can’t see exactly what Dante has taken, but he’ll soon find out. Once she turns around, she’s carrying a big object covered in a dusty white sheet.
Despite not seeing what it must be, Wrath feels… dread growing inside him.
“W-What’s… that?” He asks, voice much smaller than before.
Dante smiles, remaining unsettling.
She removes the white sheet.
Wrath faces the dark.
Smells the metal.
Feels it.
Hears it.
For some reason, that thing makes him unable to move or speak.
“This is where you came from,” Dante says simply. “It’s scary, isn’t it? You were born in this huge suit of armor. You were alone and miserable when I took you in. I’ve taken care of you since then, and yet you really think I don’t care?”
Wrath gulps, managing out, “I-I… m-meant that…”
“You know how much I have to do to look after everyone? I can’t always make time for you, dear.”
“I know, but–”
“If you knew, you would show it.” The same words he used, but sadder, hurt. “You have to understand, I’m doing this for your own good. Soon, you’ll thank me.”
Wrath would have spoken further, but he realizes the helmet is approaching him. His head.
“W-What are you-?!”
“Shhh… it will only be for a while, sweetheart.”
“N-No, wait!” Wrath steps back until he’s trapped by the wall, with no way to escape. That helmet is limiting his movements and his thinking. “Please, d-don’t do this!”
“You will be alright.”
“No, please! Please, I’ll be good!” Wrath heaves and cries. “I’m sorry! I’M SORRY!”
In so much pain, he yells the loudest he can, until… everything stops.
He stops.
Wrath’s limbs don’t work, so he sits on the floor uncomfortably. His mouth can barely move and his eyes won’t even blink. It’s like he’s a corpse. No, worse, a doll.
The helmet is too big on him, too dark, but he can see Dante smiling at him one last time before leaving the room, the door still open. If Wrath is not too consumed by the metal, he might as well hear other voices coming from outside.
“What happened to the problem child?” Lust teases, unimpressed.
Dante snorts. “He just needs some time to think after misbehaving. I made sure he won’t repeat it any sooner.”
As usual, nobody questions it, and Dante finally closes the door, leaving Wrath alone and unable to move. This is torture. This is worse than Envy hitting him or Sloth ignoring him. Instead, it’s Wrath being trapped in a prison of metal, by a mellow-speaking Dante.
It reminds him of when he woke up, inside a dark and empty shell. At the time, Wrath was so scared that he panicked and managed to get out, only to face the fallen helmet of a huge metal armor. That was the first thing Wrath saw, and he was horrified. He had to push these feelings aside to get Sloth out of that basement, but ever since then, these feelings have been haunting him in his dreams. But they were never as intense and clear as they are now.
Because now Wrath has proof of where he came from, and it hurts.
