Intense psychological themes and/or interpersonal conflict.
There were good things about having Mustang around, least of which was when one forgot their matches.
Humans are so greedy, the Truth had told him in his dreams; and for all his airs and graces, he is no exception.
Always on Al's face was that soft, sad expression, paralleled by the fierce unyieldingness on Ed's.
"You. Boy by the window who's been doodling all the way through. What would be the result of this equation?"
He remembered finding himself asking why the Fullmetal Alchemist would be the one to patch his own clothes.
Here, all is one, one is all, but everything is also nothing.
With no warning at all, something changed in the air between them, and the fight turned dirty.
"It's different when it's Mom," Ed said with a scowl, but he looked at Al's face, and he softened a little.
It was beautiful, this pre-industrial world, with its white snows and ever-visible rainbows and the dazzling night sky. But it was also dreadful, seething with ignorance and man-made horrors.
It seemed, the man thought, that Ed was a lot like the sun -- warm, comforting -- and at a distance.
A pure and virtuous soul was nothing short of surprising.
There was a terrible vulnerability to Roy when his cover slipped, and it made Ed uncomfortable.
"You just can't get enough punishment, can you, you little masochist?"
It wasn't a nightmare; nightmares leave him shaking and sweating, but now he's oddly calm.
It was a shame to mark the boy's pretty face so, but considering his abilities, prudent.
But it was through the hands that you cooked, and with a false hand Ed found that the cooking didn't come as easily anymore, didn't taste quite like Mother's.
"Stop that," he snapped, flicking the tap on. "Change into something a little more appropriate. You're not him, brother."
"Oh, he's probably just studying too hard to notice you knocking," Winly said at first.
It didn't really sink in when you saw the thing, all clumsy dangling wood and leather straps, like the arm of a marionette in a kids' puppet show.
The first time your mother asked you what you wanted to be, you answered, 'King of the whole world!'
Sometimes they race to see who can get to Winry's house faster.
The boys grow older, wiser and closer, and their mother watches them do so and is proud.
For an instant, a look passed between them, and Alphonse could almost imagine that he saw his own emotions reflected within the eyes of his brother.
The voice hit Ed like a blow, and drove the breath from his lungs. "Where are you?" he shouted. "Where are you?"
If killers and empty assassin armor hadn't frightened him, half a foot of park bench shouldn't leave him feeling so useless and pathetic.
Gone was the helpless, kicked-puppy look from those purple eyes.
If Al hadn't known how often the older boy feigned unconsciousness in order to stave off these visits, he might have been fooled.
Sometimes, he really wished that sleeping dogs would have been left alone...
It was, and he hated to admit it, an intriguing proposal. Ed wondered who the General had leaned on to get it written in just such a way to make his alchemic blood tingle.
"When you put it that way--" Roy conceded. "But it does seem improbable. You promised me a murderer, but are you so sure that it was no accident?"
I really don't like this body, he thought sadly; if he'd had a face to pout with, he would have.
Faith, he'd thought, was something he'd learned as a child, squirming on the hard wooden pews.
Among them he walks, the man whose name only God remembers.
Who was waiting for him? He tried to remember, but his mind wasn't working quite right at the moment.
Sometimes, when he lay awake and undisturbed for many hours, he almost thought he had even succeeded.
Predator-sleek and supple like a malignant-looking trickster, blurring the lines between human and inhuman, male and female, dead and alive.
For in equivalent trade, everything has value and therefore everything can be taken away.
"Then I'm gonna rule the world, too," Maes replied, because he and Roy always did everything together.
"Come on," he snorted. "As if I could say no to Al AND Winly looking at me like that."
There were whispers behind him, words exchanged in a frantic flurry of hisses and low notes.
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.
After all, Edward needed her help in catching the syndicate known as 'Soldiers'.
Roy could've sworn First Lieutenants existed only to invent torture methods for Colonels, but he wasn't about to say that one out loud.
What was it like, Father mine, to die and to be resurrected again?
Trisha looked up in surprise to see her guest in the open doorway, barely casting a shadow in the sunlight that streamed in around her.
That day, Ed had pulled his hair out of a braid and tied it up into a neat ponytail.
Alchemy, the science of turning lead into gold, was never about actual, physical transmutation.