Known as Ambre in FMA fandom, Amber in life, Hieronymousb on LJ, She of Many Names, or simply OMGWTFNO; she was born about nineteen years ago, and considers herself a "well-rounded pervert" in the sense that she writes yaoi, yuri, het, and all sorts of other weird stuff. When not punching fanfiction off her keyboard, she occupies herself by squealing incoherently about Envy. Animal, vegetable, or mineral? No one is really sure.
The room had gotten hot and stuffy, and there was sweat on both of his hands, though the sheen on the automail had not come from his own body.
A man can do terrible things in the name of his uniform--his leader, his service, his country. Then he spends the rest of his life going crazy or chasing penance.
For now, he has mastered one world, two worlds; they have mastered him as well, and he is tired.
A pure and virtuous soul was nothing short of surprising.
This is the most perplexing part, for Edward, because often he thinks, how in the hell did I end up with…?
Here, all is one, one is all, but everything is also nothing.
But at least there was softness beneath the fear, and the eyes apologized to her for her pain, even when the lips did not.
"You should know better than to behave that way, Envy," said a voice against his ear, and he felt the warmth of breath as it feathered over the side of his face.
Here, in this place where eyes were all but useless, hearing could be confounded with the sensation of touch.
It was inconceivable to think that this could ever be called beautiful...but the same could have been said for her once, couldn't it?
Edward would speak to him, eventually. Any good dog would, and despite his obstinacy, the child could be trained.
Among them he walks, the man whose name only God remembers.
Alphonse might not have been attractive in Envy's eyes, but what he currently represented was.
Humans were fools, and alchemists were the worst of the lot.
For an instant, a look passed between them, and Alphonse could almost imagine that he saw his own emotions reflected within the eyes of his brother.
I'm lying through implication, but the kid won't know that, and after all the stuff I've done, lying has gotta be my pettiest sin.
I've never regretted keeping you, Envy.
"...Sir..." he tried, beginning to compose himself again. "Don't you think...ah...that this isn't very professional of either of us?"
That was when the nightmare had begun, when the world had become stone walls, sterilized laboratories, and lights so bright as to make little red capillaries snake across both boys' eyes.
A small smile crept along her face--this visage made for mischief--and her tell-tale purple eyes narrowed.
Her original name had been Mary, like the mother of Jesus, and Hohenheim had found that noteworthy; something to comment on, if only in passing.