Comedy, slapstick, and (sometimes) bad puns.
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.
"You'd think the Colonel would have plenty of experience in dealing with irate brothers by now."
"Stupid bullies," Ed grumbled, limping for a few steps before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be feeling it. "Call me a girl, will they?"
Let it never be said that whatever his obsessive tendencies, Edward Elric was unable to enjoy life's simpler pleasures.
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.
Al should've never told his mother the box was a present for Winry.
Really, who said that a woman's sex life had to end at 60? An experienced woman had a lot to offer, and Pinako was quite, quite experienced.
This really was turning out to be a day of surprises, thought Roy.
"I'll have you know I'm in a committed monogamous relationship."
Roy cleared his throat, and stepped up to the podium. "Welcome to Elric Fanciers Anonymous," he said.
Gloved hands shot out and grabbed the book in question, dragging it off the shelf and holding it to the light.
"Huh? Whose fault? Ahahah.. aha..." Ed tried to avoid the topic.
"Do we still have cucumbers? Or I guess I could transmute a mold, do you need this dining chair?"
"Yeah. Him again. The Colonel doesn't know when to quit, does he?"
The audience fades away; the chatters dies, their twin breaths are the soft herald of thunder to come.
That was the problem with girls these days... they just didn't know how to deal with a little pain.
"Don't worry about it," he says bossily. "I know what to do. Give me the book--don't close it--ah, thanks."
"I must savor every moment of every love letter I recieve to do the sender justice," Mustang said, before proceeding to open the letter.
Open Mike Night at Rush Valley's one and only coffee house attracts a great many of the town's most ridiculous people.
There were whispers behind him, words exchanged in a frantic flurry of hisses and low notes.
Thank you General Mustang. At least that creep was good for something. Winry still wasn't convinced he was good for Ed.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
"Bill for repair of said hotel after occupants of said room 'incited riot'?"
Smug, he'd stayed just long enough to give his report and then had marched straight off to Resembool with Al lagging behind.
It took you long enough to make your call. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how to work a phone.
"Shut up. Don't say anything. I made you food, and there's beer in the icebox, and happy fucking Oktoberfest."
"It's good to hear that Fullmetal is in good spirits, if he's being so obtrusive in showing off."
"He's the Fullmetal Alchemist," Alphonse interrupted, tapping his pen against his clipboard. "Are you sure you're up to the task?"
The Colonel narrowly saved himself the disgrace of fumbling for Edward's name (Id? Alex? Eowan?) by resorting, once again, to his title.
Ah. Fans. He preens slightly into his coat, sits up just a little taller on his haunches. Fans he knows how to deal with.
There was a lot to be said for experimentation, Ed thought later, when Al was curled up in his arms as Winry fussed in the bathroom.
"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?"
"So ...." Havoc tried to look nonchalant. "Fullmetal's hair is, uh ... bright."
And everyone knows, when a homunculus is in trouble, there’s only one place to go!
ROY: [calmly] If drinking means acting like an idiot the way you are, I'm going to pass.
His brother was brilliant at many things, but finances were not one of them.
"Alchemy is intended for the public good. If it wasn't anything illegal, why the need for secrecy?"
Well, it sure looks like the rumors were true about Wednesday nights, Ed thought, easing inconspicuously along the edges of the room. But I never knew so many soldiers were gay.
"Get out of the kitchen, brother," he snarled, waving the spatula threateningly. "I'm still cooking, damnit."
"I'm going to plant a few solid pounds of Risembool milled steel right in her catty, smirking face is what I'm going to do!"
Typical Ed; overprotective, hypocritical, condescending, and for some reason fundamentally incapable of treating Al as an equal.
With a sense of rising dread, Alphonse raised his fist to pound for admittance, worry tinging his voice. "Brother? Are you alright in there?"
No kinks, no cross-dressing, no tag-team threesomes, and all pets must be ushered out of the room beforehand.
Edward glared up at him, wiping some of the stuff off his nose.