Sisyphean Effort has been peddling her wares around the realm of fan fiction for a little over a year now. In her spare time she enjoys traveling to far away lands, hanging out in cemeteries, ghost hunting, drinking coffee, and reading weird books. In her daily life, she masquerades as a meek, harmless bookseller who is secretly a bon mot throwing ninja. Be warned: Despite what you think, book-selling is hardcore...
Read more stories at sisyphean effort's fanfiction.net archive.
Elysia glanced once more around the room. In her head, there were echoes, snatches of conversations, voices from people long gone, long dead. There were ghosts in this room.
"Because," said Al flatly, "Roy is dark and handsome and--most importantly of all--charming. And you're short and blond and obnoxious."
There was a loud crack, like the sound of several chopsticks simultaneously being snapped in two, followed by the sound of something heavy falling, the object hitting the ground so hard the earth literally shook beneath Ed's feet.
I was talking with Al one day. And I was explaining how a long-term relationship is like a religion. They both have similar hallmarks...
The color red was a distraction. The color red was him. Him--Mustang's own constant distraction, the waving red banner amidst the dull color that painted his everyday life.
At a large mahogany desk, polished to an almost jewel-like shine, sat Colonel Edward Elric, who was deep into his paperwork. Or at least that is how he appeared.