Comedy, slapstick, and (sometimes) bad puns.
The Colonel narrowly saved himself the disgrace of fumbling for Edward's name (Id? Alex? Eowan?) by resorting, once again, to his title.
Thank you General Mustang. At least that creep was good for something. Winry still wasn't convinced he was good for Ed.
"There is no corresponding word in your language. There is consort, but most people seem to think that that is some kind of advisory position. Then there is wife, which is a bit closer to the true definition--"
Alphonse washed, and Edward dried (owing to the automail; safer not to submerge), and between the two of them the stack eventually diminished.
Typical Ed; overprotective, hypocritical, condescending, and for some reason fundamentally incapable of treating Al as an equal.
"You finally took my advice and settled down! Not quite what I had in mind, of course, but I'm so happy for you!"
It started with Ling's lips simply pressed up against Ed's. Well, of course it did. That was how kisses sort of went, but this was, well, a bit surprising.
Ed growled under his breath, color high in his cheeks, and pulled away.
He was coming to read Alfons pretty well now too, and from what Al did understand he could give as good as he got.
There were whispers behind him, words exchanged in a frantic flurry of hisses and low notes.
He didn't die of natural causes, oh no — the old man clung to life tenaciously.
Ed's heart began pounding in anticipation of the rush he'd feel when the process was over.
Sometimes he outright disappeared for hours, leaving Al feeling panicked.
The Full Metal Alchemist, of course, accepted his assignment with all the gravity due his station.
Gloved hands shot out and grabbed the book in question, dragging it off the shelf and holding it to the light.
Some of the stuff he was asked to investigate was truly stupid shit. A bakery, for instance.
"Yeah. Him again. The Colonel doesn't know when to quit, does he?"
"Stop that," he snapped, flicking the tap on. "Change into something a little more appropriate. You're not him, brother."
"And search for free porn." Havoc pointed out.
But suddenly, when Al had his body back, it was like picking up an old book and learning something new.
Apparently, years of stress had jaded Ed into thinking that if things were looking good now, then something terrible must be around the corner.
It was honestly not a kiss.
"Oh yeah... Huh!" Ed looked around, brightening. "Wow, it looks a lot different upright and not burning."
Let me start by saying that I love my grandchildren. Actually, they’re my great great grandchildren, but that’s repetitive and makes me sound old, so screw that.
Ed frowned slightly; that thought pushed dangerously at the border of sappiness.
She looked the wire over for a minute, noting where the insulation had been stripped away for retuning, then tugged it gently, careful not to pull too hard.
The audience fades away; the chatters dies, their twin breaths are the soft herald of thunder to come.
It was an old argument — practically every night, the ritual sparring for who'd be in control.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
Edward Elric was notoriously known for his intense dislike of milk.
The magazine told him he was doing it all wrong. First, it said he was boring. Then, it said he was bad in bed. Next, it said he was inconsiderate. After that, it told him he was gullible.
"Al," Ed said seriously and leaned forward to look up into his brother's glowing eyes, "if he had mind control powers, you would tell me, right?"
He was just contemplating a launch, kick and a dash for the window when Armstrong's hands closed in his hair.
Any girl would be driven insane if she was the youngest child and the only girl in a family of six children.
Ed always got sappy in the afterglow.
As far as Edward was concerned it could just take for-damn-ever if it wanted because that’s how long he could go without taking to the Bastard.
"Because," said Al flatly, "Roy is dark and handsome and--most importantly of all--charming. And you're short and blond and obnoxious."
That was the problem with girls these days... they just didn't know how to deal with a little pain.
“I said no, Fullmetal--hey, what are you mmnph!”
Yes, something was amiss, and Roy Mustang was going to find out what.
ROY: [calmly] If drinking means acting like an idiot the way you are, I'm going to pass.
"In case you hadn't noticed," Ed went on, poking Roy in the chest, "I am no longer twelve."
Too many more nights of excuses are going to drive him from appropriately celibate to stark raving mad.
Louis Alex Armstrong has been seriously wounded... BUT THE SOUL STILL BURNS.
Not a fairy, then, Alfons thought in disappointment. The fairies in stories weren't usually so foul-mouthed and excitable, anyway.
Ling tried to cover his way with sly smiles and clever lines; he played at being a fool (and did it very well), when he was anything but.