Intense themes with a nightmarish edge or grim outlook.
A sin, to mar that innocence of sex, to put physical feelings with intellectual knowledge.
Faith didn't hold much of a place in my life; science was my passion, something I could see, something I could feel, could make sense of.
A small smile crept along her face--this visage made for mischief--and her tell-tale purple eyes narrowed.
His brother seemed to like it when the leather left marks, a residual token of ownership, even when the collar (by job-dictated necessity) had to be removed.
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.
I've never regretted keeping you, Envy.
If Al hadn't known how often the older boy feigned unconsciousness in order to stave off these visits, he might have been fooled.
Of course, when she was their age she could hardly recite her multiplication tables, much less draw complex alchemical glyphs.
He had lost everything in a heartbeat, on a chance, and deserted his brother, although against his will.
"...If I...really went insane...I mean, completely lost my mind..." Ed said, carefully, "do you think you'd be able to stop me?"
Edward would speak to him, eventually. Any good dog would, and despite his obstinacy, the child could be trained.
There were three ways to identify the Fullmetal Alchemist, wherever he went.
Edward doesn't come back the next night, or the next.
Of all the castle's "guests," Roy was the only one not allowed to leave. Ever.
"If you are going to keep pets, you are going to have to take care of them."
When the lines didn't matter, when the lungs weren't working in labor of sweet industry worlds, then it was so easy to see where they might be all born of the same blood.
Sometimes, he prays that the hand will come down and Ed will tell him gently they are done, they are going to quit, end the nightmare before it worsens.
Neither brother seems willing to speak, but their thoughts dip down into similar wells, dredging up the questions that most haunt them.
If she cries, he may have to kill her. He can't stand that sound any longer.
"I'm sorry Al," he said at last. "For what it's worth, I never meant for this to happen to you."
Before this war, he'd never wiped human blood off his automail.
"If I do not, I might begin to love you, whom I should hate."
From saint to sinner, from mother to whore‚Ä¶ She was far more beautiful in death than she'd ever been in life.
Ed began to understand why some people talked to themselves.
What kind of stupid creature would walk willingly and calmly to its own violent, brutal death?
This was always my favorite part of the day, when I could observe the wicked gleams of a glare I wasn't meant to see.
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.
This is the smell of ozone from a lightning strike. This is fear.
Envy was no poet -- one could say that he lacked a poet's soul -- but he did recognize beauty when he saw it.
"Mother?" And his voice broke, shattered as he raced to her, arms wrapping around her thin body, embracing the image, the idea. "Mommy!"
Envy forced down the nasty smirk that threatened to overwhelm him.
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.
"Have you ever thought about becoming a daddy?" Wrath said.
Ed meets his eyes, holds them, and then -- slowly, painfully, but deliberately, traces his free hand in a line across his throat.
Death could come to Roy on his time. Appointment first. Lunch, maybe.
"It's getting worse," his brother said as he came in the door.
rated:G | GEN | dark
On the first night, he comes to her as her teacher.
Mustang fell into a kind of trance whenever he killed with his flames -- snapping his fingers continually, sometimes so fast that both his hands blurred.
The cheap ink has blurred and run, but Ed's memorized the gist: Riesenbul needs help; come sort things out.
It isn't often that our darkest fantasies get fulfilled.
We were the naive kings of all we surveyed, lingering on the hilltop as we stared at our kingdom of ash, of ruins, of dust.
And when the next words followed, barely loud enough to be heard, the General was surprised by the force behind them.
Roy had been among the rebels for weeks now, and he'd learned very early on that these men were dangerous, very dangerous.
Al thought of Martel, of Nina. He didn't want to be a chimera.
All it took was a push of his hand and the twist of a small brass key to put it out of sight.
Ed did not want to die without seeing Alphonse again.
It's almost as though Al is the blind one, seeking to memorize his brother's features by touch.