Like other little girls, she wanted to be an actress, the heroine in her own perfect fairytale.
She remembers the dreamlike way the pieces seemed to sit on the board—on account of the light, maybe, or perhaps her own faltering memory.
On Ed's thirtieth birthday, he attends a memorial that some of the military officers are holding for Ed.
It was so easy to forget how uneven alchemy made a fight. No ordinary guy ever had a chance.
Were Riza to choose, she would be the shield rather than the sword.
The feel of hands on his shoulders woke him, one metal and one flesh, and it was the chill in human fingers that told him how cold the night had grown while he slept.
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.
Ed glared at him, and Al sighed. Maybe today wouldn't be a good day for Edward after all.
He had only meant to pass through the town; it wasn't like much would have changed anyway.
They shared the same eyes, the same hair, and a level of intelligence ... and sometimes, Ed felt far too much like he was his father's son.
Sometimes they race to see who can get to Winry's house faster.
Even so, you still are a manipulative bastard.
It is what people say to him because they cannot think of any other way to relate to him, this boy who has the heavy title of 'Full Metal Alchemist'.
Through this, one would think I know him well, given my constant observing of him--but there is too much he does not put in the report, too much that he hides within himself.
rated:G | GEN | Fullmetal | mid-series |
Once you promised me that you would dance on my grave. I'm keeping you to that promise, you know.
But he still flinched away from that metal skin, and held his own burning automail arm a little further from his body in hopes that he would not bump against it.
The voice hit Ed like a blow, and drove the breath from his lungs. "Where are you?" he shouted. "Where are you?"
There were people here who did not run screaming when he whipped out a photo. Or five.
Any girl would be driven insane if she was the youngest child and the only girl in a family of six children.
She hated being idle; it ranked far above the petty pain of a mere gunshot-wound in her personal list of annoyances.
He was, to sum up, a pretty unpleasant guy to have at the head of your department in the holiday season.
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.
He tilted his jaw and the kid struck the match, lit it, lifted it to his cigarette.
Ed shrugged, although his expression suggested he was trying to keep from being too smug about beating a man almost twice his age.
She feels like an intruder, eyes watching her from empty rooms, and every stair is a memory she dares not to disturb.
"I'm going to plant a few solid pounds of Risembool milled steel right in her catty, smirking face is what I'm going to do!"
It was so strange, the way Alphonse's suddenly reduced size could make Edward look suddenly so much bigger.
Louis Alex Armstrong has been seriously wounded... BUT THE SOUL STILL BURNS.
She accepted the label and its implication without argument, lifting the revolver and sighting along its barrel.
The Colonel narrowly saved himself the disgrace of fumbling for Edward's name (Id? Alex? Eowan?) by resorting, once again, to his title.
She knew the instant she opened the door and saw their blank faces.
And after all, no amount of rain can wash the blood away.
Fullmetal smiled a long, slow smile, the sort that promised evil things were in the near future, and put his boots up on Roy's desk.
"Now, Earth-type world, yes? Spoken language identified as late pre-Galactic English."
rated:M-L | GEN | Alt Universe | TWT | First Place (popular); Second Place (juried) | Green Lion Winner | Alfons Heiderich | Edward Elric | crack | drama | fusion | introspective | 2009 Brave New Worlds, Original
You don't want to see spicy photos of my gorgeous girlfriend?
Al thought, grimly, that he was getting rather good at this.
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.
"Damn well better be--I bought 'em two days ago and I'm not keeling over yet. Got any dry ones on you?"
...but he must take a moment to compose himself, all the same, before he can look through the small window.
"Well... Brother does that, every so often. He really should think before he tries to attack people."
The audience fades away; the chatters dies, their twin breaths are the soft herald of thunder to come.
He staggered to a halt, abruptly terrified of pressing onwards through the mist, and tried not to cry.