He staggered to a halt, abruptly terrified of pressing onwards through the mist, and tried not to cry.
He was looking forward to the prospect of a hot meal in the cafeteria; even if it wasn't exactly home cooking, at least it was hot, and it was fresh.
"Mai--" Ed didn't finish his sentence as he stared at the three-inch stack of letters in Foley's hand.
There was something almost funny about the surprise on Roy's face.
"Oh yeah... Huh!" Ed looked around, brightening. "Wow, it looks a lot different upright and not burning."
You hide it well behind your bluster and your sulks, but the workings of your mind are at once cunningly devious and ruthlessly simple.
When night fell in Ishvar, night vision or no vision, flares or no flares, there was nothing you wanted to do less than draw attention to yourself.
That was the problem with girls these days... they just didn't know how to deal with a little pain.
Alchemy. It's all fun and games until somebody loses a limb and creates an abomination.
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.
She feels like an intruder, eyes watching her from empty rooms, and every stair is a memory she dares not to disturb.
Alphonse washed, and Edward dried (owing to the automail; safer not to submerge), and between the two of them the stack eventually diminished.
It was a big world out there, full of more possibilities than either of them could dream of.
If there was something Al still deeply enjoyed about his illness, it was seeing Ed play a sort of housewife.
He's seen quite enough of the military hospital in Central, and much as he likes the nurses, he was still glad when he thought they were through with it.
Ed opened his mouth, and then closed it. "Visibility is that important to you, huh?" he said.
And while he didn't know the Niisan that had been to hell and back again with a grin on his face, he knew his Niisan, and he knew that prison was not at all where he belonged.
The voice hit Ed like a blow, and drove the breath from his lungs. "Where are you?" he shouted. "Where are you?"
The tree was wobbly, but with a few kicks and shoves Ed got it to stand up in the corner by the window.
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.
He just carries himself with a certain atmosphere, one that feels like splinters of buildings falling off walls and landing broken or the smell of roasted flesh.
“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.”
It was so strange, the way Alphonse's suddenly reduced size could make Edward look suddenly so much bigger.
These days, he loves the movies.
Ed shrugged, although his expression suggested he was trying to keep from being too smug about beating a man almost twice his age.
The audience fades away; the chatters dies, their twin breaths are the soft herald of thunder to come.
Breathing. Fuck, he did it every day of his life, why was it so hard all of a sudden?
It was a game they often played, what would they do once they got their bodies back.
That day, Ed had pulled his hair out of a braid and tied it up into a neat ponytail.
What do you know, he wanted to scream, what do you know about my brother, what he’s gone through and how far he’s — we’ve — come?
"For only one arm..." Ed rasped out, gritting his teeth against the pain.
Even Hawkeye could be caught off guard, and the men moving in too late, even five seconds too long, too far away.
Al loved the way his brother's face turned inward, his golden eyes unfocusing and a little smile coming to his face...
It was growing to be habit, restless energy that ran under his skin after she'd just ran her hands over it.
rated:M-L | GENM+F |
She knew the instant she opened the door and saw their blank faces.
Ed's birthday had passed a little over a month ago, while they were still with Sensei.
At night, curled shivering on the layers of musty damp leaves under the glimmering stars, Ed lay silently and thought of unspeakable unknowns...
Impress, they had told him. Make us see why we should choose you as one of our own.
With two younger sisters himself, he knew well that siblings quarreled, but never to this extent.
The boy's brother stretches out a flesh-and-blood hand towards her, and at that moment she hates him, hates them all.
After all, one didn't have a high ranking officer fall into one's lap every day, and Greed was not one to squander someone with that much potential.
... and the moral of the story is - well, I guess there's no moral to this story, it's just a bunch of stuff that happened. Kind of like the rest of this movie.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
But we the people of Ishvar endure, by the grace and mercy of Ishvarra we endure, and so long as we live we will remember.
"Our boy here hasn't done a lick of work since eleven am, and she hasn't noticed at all. D'you think she's in love?"
He'd meant to say something but Ed had been so determined, so anxious to be useful, to create something.
"Edward," Hawkeye said kindly, "has it occurred to you that you and Alphonse may be spending too much time alone?"