In Hollywood, the women are all peaches. It makes one long for an apple occasionally. --William Somerset Maugham
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Let me start by saying that I love my grandchildren. Actually, they’re my great great grandchildren, but that’s repetitive and makes me sound old, so screw that.
“You just need to make it clear to him that he may have an opinion on the matter, but in the end, you’re the one who’s going to be doing all the work. Roy and I had that discussion months ago, and he’s been very cooperative ever since.”
“The General,” I answer. “He resigned his rank and got a transfer. They sent him up North. He’s alone there. I couldn’t talk him out of it.”
If Al could have frowned suspiciously, he would have. Instead he relied on his expressive vocal stylings as he propped his brother upright. “What’s in that glass, Brother?”
“Um, you must’ve learned that from Colonel Bastard. You’d better not be flashing that at the nurses. Or at me, ever, ever again.”
Yes, something was amiss, and Roy Mustang was going to find out what.
Roy could order her to stay home and rest, but he couldn't keep her from cleaning.
He mostly trusted his brother to be able to put a nearly-three-year-old to bed by himself, but...Al should probably check, just to be sure.
“Sir,” he says, and Roy could be imagining it, but he thinks Falman’s usually flat tone has a hint of panic in it. “Have you read this memo yet?”
Lust had memories. They were strange, confusing, painful. But she thought maybe she remembered love. Also hate. They seemed, from her perspective, very much alike.
They were good boys, and smart, and she trusted them to stay mostly out of trouble. Mostly.
Ed swallowed hard at that--Al could hear the gulp, could see his Adam’s apple bob, and copied the swallow reflexively to see what it would feel like.
"Well, I guess she can't keep him away from every bitch in heat around this place."
"Shut up. Don't say anything. I made you food, and there's beer in the icebox, and happy fucking Oktoberfest."
It was sure to be a disaster.
With no warning at all, something changed in the air between them, and the fight turned dirty.
“I said no, Fullmetal--hey, what are you mmnph!”
Well, it sure looks like the rumors were true about Wednesday nights, Ed thought, easing inconspicuously along the edges of the room. But I never knew so many soldiers were gay.
He doesn't look anything like Roy, and she's not sure if that's good or bad.
“Your latest expense reports left something to be desired. Why don’t you have a seat, and we’ll go over them.” “I’ll stand, thanks.”
“Are you all right, Loincloth Witch Alphonse?” “Y-y-yes,” the young hero stammered, feeling as though at any moment his heart might leap right through his ribcage.
“I’ve never seen an alchemist who didn’t need to draw one of those circles,” he complimented, in a tone just shy of cooing. “You must be pretty special.”
The human body (or rather, the nearly-human homunculus body) is really an incredible thing.
There was something extremely satisfying about Ed's body.