"I want to bring father back for her," Al had whispered the week before Christmas fell.
His arms weren't big enough to encompass all of himself, and Edward always got the pieces that he couldn't reach.
It shouldn't have been a surprise that he would run across on Jean Havoc, sitting just underneath a "No Smoking" sign outside in the afternoon sun.
I know what I feel, I know what I think, and I don't need to chickenscratch the shit down and have the risk of it falling into the wrong hands.
Are those little flamels on his pajamas? Where the hell does he shop, Alchemist Cliches 'R Us?
His breath was a transparent spirit before him, a phantom that hung in the air before dissipating into nothingness; Roy was almost envious of it.
rated:G | GEN | Shambhala | SP: movie |
Hope was a stone around the lonely young brother's neck, one that broke his back and ironed out his heart, smoothing the wrinkles of time and pain.
rated:G | GEN | Fullmetal | SP: ep 51 |
Could be anything... could have anything... and there was a pride, a greed in the words as they had dripped from those tainted, twisted lips.
He didn't know why they would do this to him, why they would stare with sad eyes and sad lips, with mouths turned down for the frowns that came.
Envy mused that this was what it sounded like when a spirit broke, a large pop of a fictitious heart, the snapsnapsnap of each rib cage.
I had asked him, thinking she would say yes, that everything would be okay, that no one would tell my brother no because I know I never could.
rated:G | GEN | Fullmetal |
I could sleep here, soundly, knowing that I followed in his footsteps, lay in the same beds, held the same forks and glasses, and spoke with the same people he had protected.
I didn't understand that, didn't comprehend why being clean for going into the earth was a good thing until much later...
There would always be this silence in the air, stifling, thick, foggy and almost opaque, and I would watch from the mouth of the hallway, hands in front of me, our kitten, Unsere, threading through my legs.
Falling back into the sun-warmed grass, Al smiled to the skies, offered them his hopes and dreams on a gilded platter of golden eyes.
See him move, see him train, see him jump into that air and swing his leg in a complete arch before he lands heavily to the ground in a perfect execution of Sensei's teachings.
Fingertips drifted over curves, up over hips and thighs and the dimple of ribs, and if my eyes were closed, I could have told you in detail every perfect flaw and scar.
The only other tradition that was better than eggnog to Al, was that of mistletoe.
He had started to wonder if it was Edward or himself that was farther out of reach at the moment.
The brush began its march through the sunbeam locks, from crown to tail, and Riza pressed her lips to them. "Until then."
There were whispers behind him, words exchanged in a frantic flurry of hisses and low notes.
I had offered him something he couldn't deny, something he couldn't refuse: the blink of salvation and a flesh-and-blood body for his brother.
We were the naive kings of all we surveyed, lingering on the hilltop as we stared at our kingdom of ash, of ruins, of dust.
"Mother?" And his voice broke, shattered as he raced to her, arms wrapping around her thin body, embracing the image, the idea. "Mommy!"
Faith didn't hold much of a place in my life; science was my passion, something I could see, something I could feel, could make sense of.
There were good things about having Mustang around, least of which was when one forgot their matches.
Edward Elric was a fanciful new obsession, an action figure still bound to the cardboard by twisted-ties, and Kimbley had to find a way to properly take him out of his packaging.
This was always my favorite part of the day, when I could observe the wicked gleams of a glare I wasn't meant to see.
When the lines didn't matter, when the lungs weren't working in labor of sweet industry worlds, then it was so easy to see where they might be all born of the same blood.
Staring, he couldn't tell the difference aside the eyes, aside from the cloudy sunlight of his hair, just a whisper darker than his beloved's.
There was gold in the middle of midnight, and Envy smiled over his satisfaction.
"He misses me," came the quiet whisper, a hope that maybe this madness would end, that maybe, maybe, he could be released, that he could go home.
The first time was not a night of magic or fireworks, not something dreams were made of, not something that either of them planned on repeating again.
Sweet nothingness, just feeling, no Stone, no pesky mental commentary or guilt, and just this goddamn sensation that eclipsed the sun.
Wasn't young love grand, perfect as crystal, flawless as the summer overtures?
I know we're going to wind up in our power roles again and again, claws out, dipping hard, down into flesh that sprouts the sanctity of red, red, blood.
His name. His name on wet, bloody lips. Edward turned his face away, his lips in the long, dark hair.