Internalized reminiscence by a character on a series of events.
The human body (or rather, the nearly-human homunculus body) is really an incredible thing.
Even so, you still are a manipulative bastard.
There were precious few memories remaining, now, dimmed with the passage of time and the years that he’d spent lacking a flesh body, but he kept them close to him all the same.
The taste of arsenic is golden, addictive, even it does pave the road to hell.
For now, he has mastered one world, two worlds; they have mastered him as well, and he is tired.
It was well known around Central headquarters that Roy Mustang was lusting after the visiting Major-General.
On Thursdays, Riza Hawkeye usually skipped the morning work and went to the office at noon.
Heavy-lidded, he would savor them slowly, letting them seep into his mind's eye until he could see nothing else.
What price for a human soul? Even a body and a leg had left a debt that could cleave the world in two.
Alfons is a scientific man, and Edward is his paradox.
...the two men drank Roy's good whiskey, clinked glasses and Maes exclaimed that It was about damn time.
He couldn't understand this world, this obsession with his son in the negative.
Lust had memories. They were strange, confusing, painful. But she thought maybe she remembered love. Also hate. They seemed, from her perspective, very much alike.
Death could come to Roy on his time. Appointment first. Lunch, maybe.
There is immortality deep within us that has nothing to do with corruptible flesh and earthly demise.
Impress, they had told him. Make us see why we should choose you as one of our own.
See him move, see him train, see him jump into that air and swing his leg in a complete arch before he lands heavily to the ground in a perfect execution of Sensei's teachings.
He gave, and he gave, and he gave, and he could only hope that it was enough.
Life, the Fullmetal Alchemist decided viciously, wasn't fair.
Like other little girls, she wanted to be an actress, the heroine in her own perfect fairytale.
Car broke down again, couple kilometers out of the city, so they had to walk for a while, until Alfons couldn't speak for the coughing.
Brother wasn't the only one hiding his fears; I was so afraid everything I knew was a lie -- that our brotherhood was a lie.
Mustang is possessed, maybe, but not with the feverish intensity that will someday be the trademark of the Full Metal Alchemist.
Yet there are still nights that he wakes up to find his hand clutched by a seated Al, who laughs his hollow laugh and asks if he's okay, even though he does not remember screaming.
She could remember his voice, husky with tortured emotion, screaming a name, the name "Edward Elric..."
Very few alchemists believed in God, but all of them believed in books.
Alphonse had thought that he must have the bravest brother in the world.
The question "Why learn?" always stops him; he cannot imagine not wanting to learn.
There was no question that the very act of living in this world was to be in exile.
I, the stray dog of the desert, who sloped long and pale, slashed to ribbons, across the moonlight sands on my journey to God.
Nothing made sense anymore.
His arms weren't big enough to encompass all of himself, and Edward always got the pieces that he couldn't reach.
Two boys, two faces, two fates, alive and dead at the same time, at different times, nothing in common, everything in common, one thing in common: him.
There was one thing that Edward had missed above all others.
That day, Ed had pulled his hair out of a braid and tied it up into a neat ponytail.
He wanted to be able to do something like that; tangle limbs and lips and know what it was like to not have a responsibility.
According to Hughes, Major Mustang was close to promotion and as his subordinate, it was her prerogative to try and help him to reach the next rung of the ladder.
And after all, no amount of rain can wash the blood away.
"We'll have you patched up in no time." Edward announced, slicing the leather into short, precise strips. It was irrational, but somehow Alphonse hated those words.
He has lots of women like her, who would like to be his anchor, and too many of them confuse that for throwing themselves head first into the ocean.
He doesn't love Scar. The idea is ridiculous, but they are all they have left, each other's bodies rocks against the tide of strangeness, unfamiliarity.
We were the naive kings of all we surveyed, lingering on the hilltop as we stared at our kingdom of ash, of ruins, of dust.
The idiot prince still couldn't be bothered to figure out the different notes and coins, probably because he'd never actually paid for anything in his life.
Falling back into the sun-warmed grass, Al smiled to the skies, offered them his hopes and dreams on a gilded platter of golden eyes.
Roy Mustang often looked back on his wedding night, recalling what he had thought about his subordinates; even now, they were his family, his safety, his friends.
There are things he cannot allow Greed to do.
He had started to wonder if it was Edward or himself that was farther out of reach at the moment.
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."
Grandfathers should want different things for their grandchildren, shouldn't they?