So much has happened since you last came to Central.
Tonight it is a comforting chatter, in a strange way, that takes Lan Fan's mind away from Young Master's perhaps impossible goal.
But they were no longer young, and they no longer lived together, and Al wouldn't embarrass his brother in front of their hosts by trying to take care of him.
Sometimes, when he lay awake and undisturbed for many hours, he almost thought he had even succeeded.
He has lots of women like her, who would like to be his anchor, and too many of them confuse that for throwing themselves head first into the ocean.
"Tall girls need not apply," Hughes read aloud, without even the trace of a smirk.
rated:K | M+F S+S | Fullmetal | mid-series | First Place, Het & Non-Het | Green Lion Winner | Riza Hawkeye | Roy Mustang | angst | humor | sweet | Elric Kyoudai | 354th FG HQ | 2004 First Kiss, Non-Het
"YOU HAVE JUST INTERRUPTED AN IMPORTANT TRIP. IF YOU WISH TO NOT BE BEATEN WITHIN AN INCH OF YOUR LIFE, YOU BETTER ABANDON THE TRAIN RIGHT NOW!"
He was not ready to be an uncle! He was ready, however, to hit things and curse.
More than once she thought she half-saw a face in the leaves, formed by a trick of light and shadow, and her steps grew languid and slow.
But he glanced behind himself for Winly, and it was a terrible, bittersweet thing.
"How is it possible for you to be so like him?" she whispered, nuzzling against his throat.
"Oh, he's probably just studying too hard to notice you knocking," Winly said at first.
"You are so dead, bastard," Ed said, still in that dreamy tone, and took a step forwards.
He underestimates the little things, like how long it will take him to put his socks on in the morning, and she comes up the stairs when breakfast is long since over to find him crouched over a torn stocking, blinking back furious tears...
"Just remind me, even if the alternative is to sleep on a ice cube, NEVER to share a bed with you again.
He would have killed, before a nonexistent God and Winry, to be that goddamn spatula.
He had believed, until that moment, that he had moved beyond carnal wants and human feelings.
"I am using this spirit gum to stick this necklace over my tattoo. Now stop poking your nose down my cleavage and give me some privacy, Envy."
You could attribute it to teenage rebellion, if you liked, or to homunculus-hormones, which could be quite fierce, or heck, maybe she was just living up to her name.
When he received no immediate response, he drew back and let her go, and the aching vulnerability on his face made her blink in surprise.
"So, we're one gunshot from a civil war. If someone from Hakuro's faction fired that shot, for whatever reason ..."
rated:K-L-V | M+F S+S | Mangaverse | post-series | SP: ch 1-108 | DF: ch 105 | Alphonse Elric | Edward Elric | Roy Mustang | mystery | 354th FG HQ | UST | 2010 Best New Voices, Neophyte | Havoc/Rebecca
"I'm sorry! Look, I'll fix it. I didn't know it was going to turn out this way!"
Etiquette doesn't quite cover situations like this one.
She stands beside him with her arms full of bandages, hoping the day he sees his own danger will come before the day he sets himself alight completely.
"I know how things work, sir," the boy continued, laying the watch across his lap.
Gentle and wise and intelligent and kind... and so unlike anyone she'd ever known in Xing...
They wouldn't be leaving until well after sunset, trusting Al to guide them through the dense thicket of sassafras and witch hazel to the road.
Nothing made sense anymore.
He closed his fist around her sash and curled into himself, trying to keep his thoughts away from dark things.
Itís February in Central. Thereís nothing better to do.
Both Edward and Winry were on hand day and night, looking for anything they could do to ease his way.
What part of 'this is my house' are you having problems with, Fullmetal?"
It's not the same at all when the patient choking back cries of pain and thrashing against the straps is her friend and playmate and brother.
When Havoc came back from lunch, he wondered why Hawkeye was picking up scattered papers with a small and warm smile on her face.
Water fills her ears without stopping them, just as grief does her mind, and she drums her fingers on the wooden slats in time to the litany of her failure.
There was really too much good happening today to allow room for imperfection, in his humble opinion.
People paid a lot of money to see things like this, she imagined.
It was kind of ironic, and kind of inconvenient, that Rush Valley, the capital city of automail, was also hot as hell for half the year.
Winry could not imagine going so far for someone whose name you couldn't even say. She couldn't imagine going so far without allowing yourself to say his name.
"They raise the dead. They make creatures to fight in the war. This is Edward! This is your son. You have to see that!"
To her, the Philosopher's Stone is blood and fire: his fire, her blood.
Such strength. Such dignity. Such discipline. So not the person she was supposed to seduce.
Greed reached out for whatever proved she was undeniably, unrepentantly alive.
This, too, was a pain that Edward had inflicted only on himself, but neither Roy nor Al had dared to say so.
She would notice when that body's pulse went up around her, the flush of cheeks, and the way the eyes followed her curves.
It was the truth, but it sounded lame upon Edward's lips; the way her eyes hooded, she seemed to think so, anyway.
The last thing she remembers of him was his voice begging a stranger to keep her safe. Begging for her useless life.
The first thing Gracia bought after her husband died was a stepladder.
Al knew better than anyone that Ed, if he put his mind to it, could do anything, and a little thing like missing limbs wasn't going to stop him.
"I'm not being forced out of another home. They won't be here long, and it's not like they'll be looking for us."