Intense themes with a nightmarish edge or grim outlook.
And when the next words followed, barely loud enough to be heard, the General was surprised by the force behind them.
He was afraid, so afraid, that something would go wrong, but he couldn't let this go.
"I'm sorry Al," he said at last. "For what it's worth, I never meant for this to happen to you."
On the first night, he comes to her as her teacher.
Screaming or crying would have been appropriate. Edward Elric didn't care about propriety. He was laughing.
"Listen, bastard... Do you always have to do things the hard way? You never, ever make it easy for me."
"Mother?" And his voice broke, shattered as he raced to her, arms wrapping around her thin body, embracing the image, the idea. "Mommy!"
All it took was a push of his hand and the twist of a small brass key to put it out of sight.
"If I do not, I might begin to love you, whom I should hate."
Ed meets his eyes, holds them, and then -- slowly, painfully, but deliberately, traces his free hand in a line across his throat.
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.
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.
Al thought of Martel, of Nina. He didn't want to be a chimera.
If she cries, he may have to kill her. He can't stand that sound any longer.
What kind of stupid creature would walk willingly and calmly to its own violent, brutal death?
Roy had been among the rebels for weeks now, and he'd learned very early on that these men were dangerous, very dangerous.
The cheap ink has blurred and run, but Ed's memorized the gist: Riesenbul needs help; come sort things out.
Ed did not want to die without seeing Alphonse again.
It isn't often that our darkest fantasies get fulfilled.
"If you are going to keep pets, you are going to have to take care of them."
He had lost everything in a heartbeat, on a chance, and deserted his brother, although against his will.
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.
It's almost as though Al is the blind one, seeking to memorize his brother's features by touch.
A sin, to mar that innocence of sex, to put physical feelings with intellectual knowledge.
If Al hadn't known how often the older boy feigned unconsciousness in order to stave off these visits, he might have been fooled.
Envy was no poet -- one could say that he lacked a poet's soul -- but he did recognize beauty when he saw it.
This is the smell of ozone from a lightning strike. This is fear.
There were three ways to identify the Fullmetal Alchemist, wherever he went.
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.
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.
Ed began to understand why some people talked to themselves.
Heís killing his brother slowly, but he has already promised to do it quickly; what does it matter?
It was just as his body heat was beginning to bring the sheets up to a reasonable temperature that the noise caught his ears- an ugly scraping sound, unnatural and harsh in the silence of early morning hours.
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.
"Have you ever thought about becoming a daddy?" Wrath said.
I've never regretted keeping you, Envy.
Of all the castle's "guests," Roy was the only one not allowed to leave. Ever.
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.
Neither brother seems willing to speak, but their thoughts dip down into similar wells, dredging up the questions that most haunt them.
Of course, when she was their age she could hardly recite her multiplication tables, much less draw complex alchemical glyphs.
He was only human though, and he had given into his rage at having to deal with Edward's dysfunction--and now Edward was gone, and it looked more and more like he might not be coming back.
Before this war, he'd never wiped human blood off his automail.
...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...
Death could come to Roy on his time. Appointment first. Lunch, maybe.
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.
Envy forced down the nasty smirk that threatened to overwhelm him.
"It's getting worse," his brother said as he came in the door.
rated:G | GEN | dark