Intense psychological themes and/or interpersonal conflict.
He had started to wonder if it was Edward or himself that was farther out of reach at the moment.
...the two men drank Roy's good whiskey, clinked glasses and Maes exclaimed that It was about damn time.
"She loved him," Ed said. Crack, snap. Another flower joined the pile.
He hadn't asked Hughes to follow him to this place.
"I know those court ordered anger management classes were years ago, but you've come such a long way."
How do you condition the unconditional?
He tilted his jaw and the kid struck the match, lit it, lifted it to his cigarette.
As always, there was a spark of hope in the younger Elric's expression, and it dug its claws into him as it had every day for the past eight months.
The hand under Edward's intact leg shifted, and the fingers snapped. A wave of heat danced across his skin, and he shivered in fear as the failed experiment died.
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.
"...That is an order, Fullmetal, and I will have you court-martialed if you refuse."
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 first time was not a night of magic or fireworks, not something dreams were made of, not something that either of them planned on repeating again.
What things Envy learns of his master's nature, of his future and his past alike, are those things which he has divined on his own, and nothing more.
"Fuck, I have a gang," Ed breathed in horror, about to take a seat.
Some of the stuff he was asked to investigate was truly stupid shit. A bakery, for instance.
He can hear their strained breathing but that's all, and he's never liked the General's silence and he likes Ed's even less.
He read his father's old, dog-eared textbooks, fascinated by the mechanics of alchemy.
On Thursdays, Riza Hawkeye usually skipped the morning work and went to the office at noon.
If Al began to forget things, then Edward would remember anything and everything for the both of them.
There was no question that the very act of living in this world was to be in exile.
He'd meant to say something but Ed had been so determined, so anxious to be useful, to create something.
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.
Like the touch of Izumi-mommy's hand in mine, like her voice in my ears.
Death could come to Roy on his time. Appointment first. Lunch, maybe.
Every statement directed at me now seemed to be prefaced with "you bastard." I didn't mind; it was as good a name as any other.
It was a big world out there, full of more possibilities than either of them could dream of.
He couldn't understand this world, this obsession with his son in the negative.
In matters of love and loss, it could be argued, the principle of equivalent exchange did not exist.
The Colonel should, by all that is logical in the world, be less intimidating out of his uniform.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her tobac tin, more to annoy her visitor than anything else.
She could remember his voice, husky with tortured emotion, screaming a name, the name "Edward Elric..."
Ed tilted his head down, looked up under Greed's bangs — and there, he saw a familiar, shaky grin.
It was a short letter, very succinct, to the point, like all official military correspondences were.
Only some things, he knew, could be repaired. Not every broken sword could be re-forged.
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.
Ed had confessed that he had no idea how the relationships had started.
He closed his fist around her sash and curled into himself, trying to keep his thoughts away from dark things.
But you never thought of it as a handicap, did you, as something just the same as being blind or deaf.
But Mustang would hold onto his control easily, manipulating the boy to lose more and more of his.
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.
He's been after her since the day they met. He'd been a newly-made Major and, at the time, the youngest State Alchemist ever. She'd been a Colonel going on Brigadier General.
"Are you saying," Al inquired, slowly, "that you never believed that I didn't blame you?"
And when you held your breath, where did you keep it, in your lungs or your mouth or your throat?
Winly was touched, really, that even after two years without seeing one another, Ed still wrote her letters.
It was so easy to forget how uneven alchemy made a fight. No ordinary guy ever had a chance.
They are his signposts and self-inscriptions, cordoning off the book as his own, as something he possesses.
Hohenheim had been familiar with death, but his own still took him by surprise.
Once you promised me that you would dance on my grave. I'm keeping you to that promise, you know.