Internalized reminiscence by a character on a series of events.
What price for a human soul? Even a body and a leg had left a debt that could cleave the world in two.
He wanted Hughes to know how many lines he had crossed in his lifetime.
There was one thing that Edward had missed above all others.
Greed has one, fundamental, flaw.
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.
There is no way Alfons knows what he does to him.
It is somewhat odd that two brothers can be so different, yet so close.
Heavy-lidded, he would savor them slowly, letting them seep into his mind's eye until he could see nothing else.
Edward had come into his life, taken over his life; and sometimes Roy wondered what was left of it for him.
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.
There was no question that the very act of living in this world was to be in exile.
Grandfathers should want different things for their grandchildren, shouldn't they?
In that moment, nature feels alive around her, resisting her, and every small victory of every small breath confirms that she’s alive, too.
It was well known around Central headquarters that Roy Mustang was lusting after the visiting Major-General.
Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye stands behind Colonel Roy Mustang, laughing silently about her silly dreams, her hand never straying far from the gun by her side.
The taste of arsenic is golden, addictive, even it does pave the road to hell.
Even so, you still are a manipulative bastard.
I needed something that said 'I am Elicia Hughes, more than just Daddy's Girl.'
He just carries himself with a certain atmosphere, one that feels like splinters of buildings falling off walls and landing broken or the smell of roasted flesh.
They were not used to being alone and when they were together they were not.
Here was the corner where she retreated, reloading her gun as she prepared for another kill.
Winry muttered something Scieszka couldn't quite catch, brow furrowed as she leaned in to adjust something on the switchboard.
And there was a certain look they shared, the one they both used when they thought Ed was being unreasonably stubborn.
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.
She feels like an intruder, eyes watching her from empty rooms, and every stair is a memory she dares not to disturb.
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 feeling came more naturally than anything he'd known.
His arms weren't big enough to encompass all of himself, and Edward always got the pieces that he couldn't reach.
Mustang is possessed, maybe, but not with the feverish intensity that will someday be the trademark of the Full Metal Alchemist.
Impress, they had told him. Make us see why we should choose you as one of our own.
It seemed, the man thought, that Ed was a lot like the sun -- warm, comforting -- and at a distance.
It was only after the sheer sensation had abated — only when he felt on solid enough ground to focus on the subtleties of life once more — that the habit began to catch his attention.
And after all, no amount of rain can wash the blood away.
That day, Ed had pulled his hair out of a braid and tied it up into a neat ponytail.
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...
Faith, he'd thought, was something he'd learned as a child, squirming on the hard wooden pews.
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.
Envy could rip him and all the worlds in two.
Sometimes Roy would just hold him for an hour or more, late at night, blind comfort.
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'.
"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
Alfons is a scientific man, and Edward is his paradox.
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."
He had only meant to pass through the town; it wasn't like much would have changed anyway.
Even though she wasn’t an alchemist, alchemy tended to stake a claim on all who were associated with it.
"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.
When dealing with the military, it always paid to look ready for inspection. Neatness counted; passion was suspect.
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.
Rubbing at a fading reminder of one such lesson on his left biceps, he hopes she appreciates what a formidable champion she’s gained.