Intense psychological themes and/or interpersonal conflict.
That day, Ed had pulled his hair out of a braid and tied it up into a neat ponytail.
On the day the Fuhrer died, it snowed.
Were Riza to choose, she would be the shield rather than the sword.
The voice hit Ed like a blow, and drove the breath from his lungs. "Where are you?" he shouted. "Where are you?"
The boys grow older, wiser and closer, and their mother watches them do so and is proud.
Winry had scraped a promise out of Ed.
I, the stray dog of the desert, who sloped long and pale, slashed to ribbons, across the moonlight sands on my journey to God.
"Damn well better be--I bought 'em two days ago and I'm not keeling over yet. Got any dry ones on you?"
But at least there was softness beneath the fear, and the eyes apologized to her for her pain, even when the lips did not.
"Now, Earth-type world, yes? Spoken language identified as late pre-Galactic English."
rated:M-L | GEN | Alt Universe | TWT | First Place (popular); Second Place (juried) | Green Lion Winner | Alfons Heiderich | Edward Elric | crack | drama | fusion | introspective | 2009 Brave New Worlds, Original
They are his signposts and self-inscriptions, cordoning off the book as his own, as something he possesses.
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.
He remembered finding himself asking why the Fullmetal Alchemist would be the one to patch his own clothes.
He lifted his eyes to Ed's, returned Ed's even, blank gaze. "Brothers," he said. "That's what we are."
Ed tilted his head down, looked up under Greed's bangs — and there, he saw a familiar, shaky grin.
"You just can't get enough punishment, can you, you little masochist?"
He had only meant to pass through the town; it wasn't like much would have changed anyway.
If he would permit himself to be honest, Alphonse would admit to Roy that he hates the rain, too.
He made the slip-up not whilst in the throes of passion, but rather, sitting quite peacefully at the kitchen table, watching the slender blond cook.
She accepted the label and its implication without argument, lifting the revolver and sighting along its barrel.
How do you find someone who barely existed in this world now that they're gone?
Winly was touched, really, that even after two years without seeing one another, Ed still wrote her letters.
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?
He would come to understand later that what she meant was, I’m stronger than you.
He felt ten years old and small, pressed against a door that wouldn't open for a very long time.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
Sometimes, he really wished that sleeping dogs would have been left alone...
Always on Al's face was that soft, sad expression, paralleled by the fierce unyieldingness on Ed's.
"Brother," he whispers into the soft warmth of Ed's skin, "Is mom going to get better?"
There was a terrible vulnerability to Roy when his cover slipped, and it made Ed uncomfortable.
When night fell in Ishvar, night vision or no vision, flares or no flares, there was nothing you wanted to do less than draw attention to yourself.
The first time your mother asked you what you wanted to be, you answered, 'King of the whole world!'
"How old are you?" The answer was on the wanted posters, of course, but he wanted to check.
He had started to wonder if it was Edward or himself that was farther out of reach at the moment.
I could sleep here, soundly, knowing that I followed in his footsteps, lay in the same beds, held the same forks and glasses, and spoke with the same people he had protected.
...the two men drank Roy's good whiskey, clinked glasses and Maes exclaimed that It was about damn time.
"And search for free porn." Havoc pointed out.
Sometimes, when he lay awake and undisturbed for many hours, he almost thought he had even succeeded.
Ed glared at him, and Al sighed. Maybe today wouldn't be a good day for Edward after all.
Envy would never let him forget that the price of pride was destruction, and that those who infringed upon God's domain were damned.
Alchemy, the science of turning lead into gold, was never about actual, physical transmutation.
But the harsh light of early morning sharpens the hard angles of desperation on Al's face so instead Ed smiles, all teeth, and lies, "Of course."
"I'm not being forced out of another home. They won't be here long, and it's not like they'll be looking for us."
Your eyes stared up at me, wide and questioning, in a response not fit for such a young child.
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.
Sometimes they race to see who can get to Winry's house faster.
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.
And if she listened carefully enough, she could hear Edward reading in a low voice to a gurgling Alphonse.
"If you hadn't messed in the mud to get the cat," he pointed out, "your hands wouldn't be so cold. Give me your other."