Intense psychological themes and/or interpersonal conflict.
So, he says, and his voice cuts through the sound of battle outside in the streets. "What's it going to be?"
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.
The boys grow older, wiser and closer, and their mother watches them do so and is proud.
It was easy enough to start a fire, with the appropriate array and dry wood.
What do you know, he wanted to scream, what do you know about my brother, what he’s gone through and how far he’s — we’ve — come?
But he still flinched away from that metal skin, and held his own burning automail arm a little further from his body in hopes that he would not bump against it.
I've never regretted keeping you, Envy.
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."
High school and sexuality are hard enough to deal with, without adding high explosives to the mix.
At night, curled shivering on the layers of musty damp leaves under the glimmering stars, Ed lay silently and thought of unspeakable unknowns...
"You can't do that! This is a shounen series!" he hissed.
"And search for free porn." Havoc pointed out.
He’s killing his brother slowly, but he has already promised to do it quickly; what does it matter?
Faith, he'd thought, was something he'd learned as a child, squirming on the hard wooden pews.
"You. Boy by the window who's been doodling all the way through. What would be the result of this equation?"
It was so easy to forget how uneven alchemy made a fight. No ordinary guy ever had a chance.
Some of the details he needed, of course, they wouldn't have; no non-alchemist would know. And most of the details they had, he didn't want.
He tilted his jaw and the kid struck the match, lit it, lifted it to his cigarette.
"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!"
It isn't often that our darkest fantasies get fulfilled.
The last thing she remembers of him was his voice begging a stranger to keep her safe. Begging for her useless life.
When he comes to, the blue light of the alchemical reaction is fading, and the air is thick with smoke.
Roy Mustang was shipped back home last week. Neat as a parcel of vegetables with the stamp upside-down on the crate.
There is only the Now, with Them, although They have not come for a long time.
Winry had scraped a promise out of Ed.
He grabbed the nearest inmate by the front of his shirt and hauled him up. "Where is he!?" he roared.
"Those are very nice gloves," Pinako observed when Edward came back.
An alchemical reaction of the most ancient kind: sitting down to eat as though filling the stomach could replace the gap in one's heart.
Even so, you still are a manipulative bastard.
But he glanced behind himself for Winly, and it was a terrible, bittersweet thing.
But at least there was softness beneath the fear, and the eyes apologized to her for her pain, even when the lips did not.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
He couldn't understand this world, this obsession with his son in the negative.
I really don't like this body, he thought sadly; if he'd had a face to pout with, he would have.
"I was your mother once," Dante told him with an air of great drunken magnanimity one evening.
And if she listened carefully enough, she could hear Edward reading in a low voice to a gurgling Alphonse.
"They raise the dead. They make creatures to fight in the war. This is Edward! This is your son. You have to see that!"
Ed meets his eyes, holds them, and then -- slowly, painfully, but deliberately, traces his free hand in a line across his throat.
He was a version of his brother if he'd grown up, but fainter, as though he'd been diluted in the bright light of the Gate.
He hadn't asked Hughes to follow him to this place.
"You're a lightweight," Roy said dryly, and smiled at the face Ed pulled. "That's enough for tonight, I think."
You'd have to be inhuman not to quake in fear when she stares you down.
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...
Around when the hour of nine rolls up to the door, fat as a bellied barfly, Roy has already taken his jacket off the hook and has gone outside to walk.
The blow cracked Ed's cheekbone, an audible noise in the quiet room, and he felt and tasted the blood that filled his mouth.