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.
"Rose..." Winry's voice held hesitation, not sure as if she should finish her thought or not.
rated:M-L | S×S | Fullmetal |
Tenderly, Ed's flesh fingers threaded into hair that he had created — short and bronze-gold, the same downy texture that he'd recalled from childhood.
He'll fix himself breakfast, and maybe something for Edward as well, if he's feeling charitable.
There were lines that should never be crossed and things one should never wish for, and sometimes even the best of intentions were not enough.
"You know it's a good thing I heal almost immediately, because otherwise I'd be so sore, I'd never get anywhere in the story."
"You embarrassed the brass, and now they want their pound of flesh."
"Your arm," said Al, smiling apologetically. "It's kind of heavy."
He didn't know exactly what he found so captivating, seeing Edward like this, but he couldn't stop looking.
If it weren't for the expression, Roy would have assumed that Ed had been sparring with Al as they frequently did while he was away at work.
Al himself had asked for nothing, except the one thing that Hohenheim wouldn't give him. Freedom.
Roy's breath took a holiday at the beach for approximately 30 seconds, the longest it had ever left him alone.
Roy had arched an eyebrow, cleared his throat. "Can I ask what it is about my hand that merits such an intense examination?"
There were three ways to identify the Fullmetal Alchemist, wherever he went.
The logical thing was that brother defer to brother, who would have thought in this one instance that selfishness would rear its head?
He made the slip-up not whilst in the throes of passion, but rather, sitting quite peacefully at the kitchen table, watching the slender blond cook.
...when he presses his hand against the scraped array and wills it to activate, he can't help but send a whispered prayer to it. Please work. Please, please...
Ed had his suspicions about any offer Roy Mustang made that sounded like what he wanted. There had to be a catch.
"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."
"Don't worry," Greed had whispered. "I'll take care of your little death."
So, really, it was only fair that Ed's first, instinctive reaction when Roy hit the ground after slipping off the roof was to snort and tell him, "I told you so."
He had never dared to dream that things could get better, astounded as he'd been by the way air tasted spilling over his tongue...
Ed peeked into the last box and began to grin. "Twelve-layer chocolate cake," he said. "Wow, a whole slice."
Predator-sleek and supple like a malignant-looking trickster, blurring the lines between human and inhuman, male and female, dead and alive.
There was no question that the very act of living in this world was to be in exile.
"Up," said the demon, as the blinding force of a million suns illuminated its frame and set an evil light to its eyes.
Ed always got sappy in the afterglow.
Sometimes he feels like an actor, playing to an especially difficult audience.
"So, Colonel, when are you going to find my replacement?"
It doesn’t disappoint, never does; Ed is standing on the corner when the car arrives, all sharp moody edges and obtrusively coloured blue shorts.
High school and sexuality are hard enough to deal with, without adding high explosives to the mix.
Alphonse might not have been attractive in Envy's eyes, but what he currently represented was.
As much as he loved his family, Alphonse Elric wouldn't have traded these moments alone for anything.
"You can't do that! This is a shounen series!" he hissed.
He'd lied in smoke filled bars. He'd hunted down lubricants in seedy stores that catered to the most iffy of clientele. Alfons had EARNED Ed's love.
How do you condition the unconditional?
He runs out of ink halfway through the page, and with a quiet sigh dips his finger in the inkwell...
Why was Ed still letting this fear haunt him? How long was the lingering pain of these old wounds going to hang between them?
It was a shame to mark the boy's pretty face so, but considering his abilities, prudent.
Too many more nights of excuses are going to drive him from appropriately celibate to stark raving mad.
Hadn't he survived a month on a deserted island when he was ten, equipped only with a little knife and one pair of shorts? He was tough. He was rugged. He could fall asleep anywhere. He could totally do this.
...Ed looks bored, but Alfons knows that it's an act, that Ed loves learning and these impromptu history lessons are favourites of his.
The color red was a distraction. The color red was him. Him--Mustang's own constant distraction, the waving red banner amidst the dull color that painted his everyday life.
"Alphonse... why are you wearing a blouse?" The younger boy buried his face in his textbook, and mumbled something inaudible. "...and a miniskirt!?"
He was glad his expression rarely reflected what he felt on the inside.
A sin, to mar that innocence of sex, to put physical feelings with intellectual knowledge.
The door opened, and all the energy Ed had been ready to put towards transmuting the door into a pile of sticks drained out of him through his feet.
"You'd be dangerous if you ever figured out what you wanted, Fullmetal."
"No," said Ed, his voice quiet. "You can't hurt me."