Internalized reminiscence by a character on a series of events.
She remembers the dreamlike way the pieces seemed to sit on the board—on account of the light, maybe, or perhaps her own faltering memory.
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.
The metal in his mouth tastes cool and tangy and yummy but he can't eat because he has to find Lust.
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."
The taste of arsenic is golden, addictive, even it does pave the road to hell.
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.
"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
There was one thing that Edward had missed above all others.
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.
It seemed, the man thought, that Ed was a lot like the sun -- warm, comforting -- and at a distance.
And of course, he does not believe in God anyway, and scorns the idea of predestination.
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.
It is what people say to him because they cannot think of any other way to relate to him, this boy who has the heavy title of 'Full Metal Alchemist'.
Sometimes Roy would just hold him for an hour or more, late at night, blind comfort.
There is immortality deep within us that has nothing to do with corruptible flesh and earthly demise.
When dealing with the military, it always paid to look ready for inspection. Neatness counted; passion was suspect.
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.
He gave, and he gave, and he gave, and he could only hope that it was enough.
She paced the wide, marble floor, visited each of the soaring windows, feeling every supple sinew beneath her skin move with the perfection of the young.
Your eyes stared up at me, wide and questioning, in a response not fit for such a young child.
He has seen the desert. Seen her scorched and scarred beneath his steady hands. Stepped in her tattered remains, tasted her ashes with every breath.
He couldn't understand this world, this obsession with his son in the negative.
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.
Life, the Fullmetal Alchemist decided viciously, wasn't fair.
She clung to him so tightly that his skin was white under her fingertips.
"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.
Of course, when she was their age she could hardly recite her multiplication tables, much less draw complex alchemical glyphs.
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...
The human body (or rather, the nearly-human homunculus body) is really an incredible thing.
And after all, no amount of rain can wash the blood away.
Grandfathers should want different things for their grandchildren, shouldn't they?
He had only meant to pass through the town; it wasn't like much would have changed anyway.
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.
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.
The brush began its march through the sunbeam locks, from crown to tail, and Riza pressed her lips to them. "Until then."
Impress, they had told him. Make us see why we should choose you as one of our own.
Alphonse had thought that he must have the bravest brother in the world.
For now, he has mastered one world, two worlds; they have mastered him as well, and he is tired.
There are things he cannot allow Greed to do.
Alfons is a scientific man, and Edward is his paradox.
Mustang is possessed, maybe, but not with the feverish intensity that will someday be the trademark of the Full Metal Alchemist.
I know what I feel, I know what I think, and I don't need to chickenscratch the shit down and have the risk of it falling into the wrong hands.
Because he had said one year; and dammit, he meant it.
Death could come to Roy on his time. Appointment first. Lunch, maybe.
The feeling came more naturally than anything he'd known.
When the lines didn't matter, when the lungs weren't working in labor of sweet industry worlds, then it was so easy to see where they might be all born of the same blood.
...the two men drank Roy's good whiskey, clinked glasses and Maes exclaimed that It was about damn time.
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.
It didn't really sink in when you saw the thing, all clumsy dangling wood and leather straps, like the arm of a marionette in a kids' puppet show.