Internalized reminiscence by a character on a series of events.
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.
Envy could rip him and all the worlds in two.
There is immortality deep within us that has nothing to do with corruptible flesh and earthly demise.
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.
Alfons prays for the day when he will return to a far-off Edward, and somehow miraculously find the words, the actions, to call him back from his imaginary world.
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.
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.
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.
She laughs readily, but no one else, he's sure, has ever seen the double-takes with which she greets his successful deadpan strikes.
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."
Because he had said one year; and dammit, he meant it.
Even so, you still are a manipulative bastard.
And there was a certain look they shared, the one they both used when they thought Ed was being unreasonably stubborn.
For now, he has mastered one world, two worlds; they have mastered him as well, and he is tired.
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 is somewhat odd that two brothers can be so different, yet so close.
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.
Fingertips drifted over curves, up over hips and thighs and the dimple of ribs, and if my eyes were closed, I could have told you in detail every perfect flaw and scar.
To her, the Philosopher's Stone is blood and fire: his fire, her blood.
The human body (or rather, the nearly-human homunculus body) is really an incredible thing.
He couldn't understand this world, this obsession with his son in the negative.
There was one thing that Edward had missed above all others.
"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.
There are things he cannot allow Greed to do.
Sometimes, he prays that the hand will come down and Ed will tell him gently they are done, they are going to quit, end the nightmare before it worsens.
The brush began its march through the sunbeam locks, from crown to tail, and Riza pressed her lips to them. "Until then."
Rubbing at a fading reminder of one such lesson on his left biceps, he hopes she appreciates what a formidable champion she’s gained.
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.
There is no way Alfons knows what he does to him.
Your eyes stared up at me, wide and questioning, in a response not fit for such a young child.
They were not used to being alone and when they were together they were not.
He gave, and he gave, and he gave, and he could only hope that it was enough.
It was well known around Central headquarters that Roy Mustang was lusting after the visiting Major-General.
Roy could order her to stay home and rest, but he couldn't keep her from cleaning.
And after all, no amount of rain can wash the blood away.
She could remember his voice, husky with tortured emotion, screaming a name, the name "Edward Elric..."
He can hear their strained breathing but that's all, and he's never liked the General's silence and he likes Ed's even less.
Very few alchemists believed in God, but all of them believed in books.
Riza looks straight ahead. "Personally, I found during my time in Ishbal that nothing stops a career faster than a bullet between the eyes."
Impress, they had told him. Make us see why we should choose you as one of our own.
Winry muttered something Scieszka couldn't quite catch, brow furrowed as she leaned in to adjust something on the switchboard.
His arms weren't big enough to encompass all of himself, and Edward always got the pieces that he couldn't reach.
"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
When dealing with the military, it always paid to look ready for inspection. Neatness counted; passion was suspect.
What he really wanted to know was something else - a question of 'why', quite likely.
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.
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...
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.
Of course, when she was their age she could hardly recite her multiplication tables, much less draw complex alchemical glyphs.
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.