Who Writes This Stuff?

By Fae Elric, the Steel Alchemist

A/N: I've been terribly obsessed with "The Chronicles of Narnia" for a while now--

Edward: Yeah, only for a couple of weeks.

A/N: Shut up! No comments from the peanut gallery!

Edward: (twitch) WHAT. DID. YOU. SAY.

A/N: You heard me. Anyway, like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted (shoots dark glare at Ed), I've been obsessed with Narnia lately, and I wanted to try my hand at melding the two series I love so much together. So here it is!

Disclaimer: If I owned either of these series I wouldn't have to pay about $150 dollars to Georgie Henley's Potty-Mouth Bucket every time I thought about wanting to own them, would I? Yeah, didn't think so.


Edward sat on his military-issued bunk with his nose buried in a book, as he was often wont to do. However, this book wasn't about the Philosopher's Stone, unlike every book Ed had read for the past four years. It wasn't even about alchemy. This book was (dare I say it?) a fictional piece. No- it wasn't just fiction. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was a literary classic.

Not so much to Ed.

Al, upon noticing Ed's disbelieving frown, asked his older brother, "Is something wrong, Brother?"

"Not with me," Ed told him disgustedly, "just with this book."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Well, for one thing, people don't just randomly walk into giant wardrobes and find themselves in a magical land. Magic doesn't even exist!"

Alphonse sighed. "Brother. That book is fiction, as in 'not real, never has been real, and will never be real'. The Law of Equivalent Exchange doesn't apply."

"That may be true," Ed scoffed, "but who the hell would sacrifice his family for some candy?"

"Apparently Edmund would."

"That brings me to my next point! This stupid kid Edmund is giving all us other Eds a bad name!"

Al tried to reason with him. "Edmund isn't even real!"

"And neither is Santa! C.S. Lewis thought he'd try to pull a fast one on me by calling him Father Christmas, did he? Well, I'm certainly not fooled!"

The soul in the armor panicked. "Wait… Santa's not real?"

"Of course not! He…" Ed's voice trailed of as he realized exactly what he had just said. "I mean, of course he's real! Just not in the context of the story!"

"You liar!" Al shouted miserably.

"No, really! He really is real!" Ed cried. As much as I hate to think about it, I'll have to do something (he could barely force himself to finish the thought) nice for the bastard colonel, Ed thought with a shudder, if I'm going to get him to dress up as Santa this year. He decided that he would beat himself up later. "You'll see, Al. He'll come for Christmas like he always does." He crossed his fingers behind the book, hoping that his younger brother would believe him.

"If you say so, Brother," Al said warily.

Ed heaved an internal sigh of relief. "And anyway, who gets a sword for Christmas? There's no such thing as a- oh, what was it called- a fire-flower. If they wanted to heal any injury, they should just make a Philosopher's Stone. If Equivalent Exchange doesn't apply to them, then they should be able to do it without sacrificing humans, right?" he sneered. "And what about this Jadis lady, huh? A woman isn't evil unless she throws wrenches at innocents, I always say."

Al just sighed and said, "Just make sure you never say that in front of Winry, okay?" He tuned Ed's ranting out and opened his copy of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. It just isn't the same without all four Pevensies, he thought before turning to chapter five.

"I mean, honestly, who writes this stuff?" Ed wondered aloud. He snapped the book shut and picked up a rather large tome that he was sure had some kind of clue about the Philosopher's Stone.


"Hey, Susan, take a look at this." A sandy-haired boy of about sixteen or seventeen years held up a book for his younger sister to see.

"What is it, Peter?"

The eldest Pevensie boy flipped through the book's pages curiously. "It looks like some sort of comic book, but I've never heard of it. I already asked Edmund about it, and he said didn't know anything."

Susan plucked the book from Peter's hands. "'Fullmetal Alchemist'?" she read aloud. "'Fullmetal' isn't even a word."

"'Gastrovascular' shouldn't be a word, either," Peter mumbled under his breath.

Susan, who hadn't heard him, pointed out an odd image. "And look here, the armor is empty! It shouldn't be moving or talking!"

Peter only shrugged. "Well, you never know what someone may think of. It is a comic book, after all."

"Yes, but who makes comic books like these? It's printed backwards, too!"

"After being to Narnia and back, I've learned not to question too many odd things, Su," Peter said. Taking the book from her, he started to walk towards the room he shared with Edmund. "If you'll excuse me, I have some reading to do."


A/N: I never thought I'd be able to do it, but I actually wrote an FMA fic that's not RoyEd. Ever write one of those stories that you're not sure about whether or not it's good? Well, this is one of them for me. Unfortunately for you (or fortunately, if you happened to like it), I posted it anyways! So, nyeh! (sticks out tongue)

Susan: That's so mature, Fae.

A/N: …Thank you, Susan.

Susan: And if you're going to drool like that every time you think about Peter, at least wipe off your face.

A/N: (wipes hand across mouth) I wasn't drooling.

Susan: …Right.

A/N: Before anyone sends me flames, I just wanna say that I love Narnia. I don't exactly have the most sympathy for Edmund, but there you go. I apologize profusely if I insulted anyone with Ed's rants.