Intense psychological themes and/or interpersonal conflict.
"Brother," he whispers into the soft warmth of Ed's skin, "Is mom going to get better?"
Humans were fools, and alchemists were the worst of the lot.
She accepted the label and its implication without argument, lifting the revolver and sighting along its barrel.
"He misses me," came the quiet whisper, a hope that maybe this madness would end, that maybe, maybe, he could be released, that he could go home.
For in equivalent trade, everything has value and therefore everything can be taken away.
The boys grow older, wiser and closer, and their mother watches them do so and is proud.
"And search for free porn." Havoc pointed out.
Ed tilted his head down, looked up under Greed's bangs — and there, he saw a familiar, shaky grin.
Ed's arms swept out, taking in the street and the buildings, the grass and the trees and the sky -- "the world and our own minds to understand it! That's all!" Isn't that enough?
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.
The blond shook his head lightly, probably in amusement, "I'm really sorry but he's normally not like this to strangers but your resemblance? is very striking, Roy."
Her original name had been Mary, like the mother of Jesus, and Hohenheim had found that noteworthy; something to comment on, if only in passing.
I was talking with Al one day. And I was explaining how a long-term relationship is like a religion. They both have similar hallmarks...
She moves the king again, to its last optional safe square and murmurs, "I'll admit this is not how I envisioned my first night on the battlefield."
Al makes a worried little noise, and Ed raises his head a little. He's been found out, he thinks, and knows he should feel something.
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.
Greed grinned, slid a hand from his pocket, curled one suddenly black claw. "Great. Come on, let's get it on."
"That would have killed you, you idiot! You wouldn't be destroyed, or erased, or whatever. You would be killed! I would have murdered you!"
They were not used to being alone and when they were together they were not.
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 is an order, Fullmetal, and I will have you court-martialed if you refuse."
"You're a lightweight," Roy said dryly, and smiled at the face Ed pulled. "That's enough for tonight, I think."
"We offer you not a world in which your brother died, but one in which he never lived."
It was such a beautiful way to die.
Ed tosses four sausages at once into his mouth and swallows almost without chewing, shooting Al a smug, triumphant grin.
Could I burn like that - would the lick of flames on my skin wipe me clean?
How do you find someone who barely existed in this world now that they're gone?
Even though she wasn’t an alchemist, alchemy tended to stake a claim on all who were associated with it.
There were whispers behind him, words exchanged in a frantic flurry of hisses and low notes.
But he kept going back. She knew, and confronted him at one time.
If Al hadn't known how often the older boy feigned unconsciousness in order to stave off these visits, he might have been fooled.
And he learned to think ahead from his grandfather, over the chess board on the back porch of their home.
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.
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.
Envy would never let him forget that the price of pride was destruction, and that those who infringed upon God's domain were damned.
Theirs is a strange relationship--they know so little about each other--but somehow it's okay, as though knowledge would throw a spanner in the works.
"Mai--" Ed didn't finish his sentence as he stared at the three-inch stack of letters in Foley's hand.
The Colonel should, by all that is logical in the world, be less intimidating out of his uniform.
He’s killing his brother slowly, but he has already promised to do it quickly; what does it matter?
His desire for everything and everyone meant subversively that anything the alchemist blew to high hell was his: possession by association.
Gone was the helpless, kicked-puppy look from those purple eyes.
He read his father's old, dog-eared textbooks, fascinated by the mechanics of alchemy.
"Fuck, I have a gang," Ed breathed in horror, about to take a seat.
There was a terrible vulnerability to Roy when his cover slipped, and it made Ed uncomfortable.
The feel of hands on his shoulders woke him, one metal and one flesh, and it was the chill in human fingers that told him how cold the night had grown while he slept.
Besides, no one ever said that tumultuous times had to begin with a fanfare.
Today I saw the god of fire, Roy writes in his notebook, knowing he will never be believed.
Al waited to say something until Ed's hair brushed his shoulders.