Nanni (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tiamatschild) wrote2010-03-28 01:16 pm
tiamatschild) wrote2010-03-28 01:16 pm
Fic: "Pin Money" (K) Fullmetal Alchemist
Title: Pin Money
Author: Tiamat’s Child
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist Manga
Word Count: 250
Rating: K
Characters/Pairing: Riza Hawkeye
Summary: Riza does this every week.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fma_fic_contest, prompt 54, "Anger".
Pin Money
It was a weekly ritual. Riza slid into the potting shed, and stepped onto a chair to take down the stack of clay pots kept on the rafters.
It was empty. There was nothing in the pots but pots.
Riza bit her lip. She'd misjudged. This week's egg money would have to stay in her pocket until she could find a new place.
Where to put it, she wondered as she set the pots back. Her last place, behind the soap flakes in the laundry cupboard, her father had spent on a treatise on mushrooms, which had turned out to be a good purchase - Riza had dried quite a lot of mushrooms this spring - but if it hadn't been for the other purse in the attic, which she tried not to visit often, the gas would've been shut off, and Riza knew that the wood stove was not an acceptable substitute.
Where to put it?
Maybe in the pantry, a match box behind the kitchen twine. Maybe if she split it up. Some could go under her mother's silver. Some could go in the dairy, and some could go in the cellar.
When Riza grew up, she would have a bank account. She would have an account at the most respected and skeptical bank she could find, and she would never give the number to anyone else. The only place she'd put it would be in her will.
She sighed. When she grew up.
Author: Tiamat’s Child
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist Manga
Word Count: 250
Rating: K
Characters/Pairing: Riza Hawkeye
Summary: Riza does this every week.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Written for
fma_fic_contest, prompt 54, "Anger". Pin Money
It was a weekly ritual. Riza slid into the potting shed, and stepped onto a chair to take down the stack of clay pots kept on the rafters.
It was empty. There was nothing in the pots but pots.
Riza bit her lip. She'd misjudged. This week's egg money would have to stay in her pocket until she could find a new place.
Where to put it, she wondered as she set the pots back. Her last place, behind the soap flakes in the laundry cupboard, her father had spent on a treatise on mushrooms, which had turned out to be a good purchase - Riza had dried quite a lot of mushrooms this spring - but if it hadn't been for the other purse in the attic, which she tried not to visit often, the gas would've been shut off, and Riza knew that the wood stove was not an acceptable substitute.
Where to put it?
Maybe in the pantry, a match box behind the kitchen twine. Maybe if she split it up. Some could go under her mother's silver. Some could go in the dairy, and some could go in the cellar.
When Riza grew up, she would have a bank account. She would have an account at the most respected and skeptical bank she could find, and she would never give the number to anyone else. The only place she'd put it would be in her will.
She sighed. When she grew up.