Internalized reminiscence by a character on a series of events.
Even so, you still are a manipulative bastard.
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.
I, the stray dog of the desert, who sloped long and pale, slashed to ribbons, across the moonlight sands on my journey to God.
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.
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.
He wanted Hughes to know how many lines he had crossed in his lifetime.
Roy could order her to stay home and rest, but he couldn't keep her from cleaning.
Heavy-lidded, he would savor them slowly, letting them seep into his mind's eye until he could see nothing else.
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 taste of arsenic is golden, addictive, even it does pave the road to hell.
The question "Why learn?" always stops him; he cannot imagine not wanting to learn.
What he really wanted to know was something else - a question of 'why', quite likely.
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.
Life, the Fullmetal Alchemist decided viciously, wasn't fair.
It was such a beautiful way to die.
There was one thing that Edward had missed above all others.
Faith, he'd thought, was something he'd learned as a child, squirming on the hard wooden pews.
For now, he has mastered one world, two worlds; they have mastered him as well, and he is tired.
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.
Even though she wasn’t an alchemist, alchemy tended to stake a claim on all who were associated with it.
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.
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.
He gave, and he gave, and he gave, and he could only hope that it was enough.
Winry muttered something Scieszka couldn't quite catch, brow furrowed as she leaned in to adjust something on the switchboard.
It was well known around Central headquarters that Roy Mustang was lusting after the visiting Major-General.
Death could come to Roy on his time. Appointment first. Lunch, maybe.
She laughs readily, but no one else, he's sure, has ever seen the double-takes with which she greets his successful deadpan strikes.
He had only meant to pass through the town; it wasn't like much would have changed anyway.
The feeling came more naturally than anything he'd known.
"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
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.
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 seemed, the man thought, that Ed was a lot like the sun -- warm, comforting -- and at a distance.
That day, Ed had pulled his hair out of a braid and tied it up into a neat ponytail.
He couldn't understand this world, this obsession with his son in the negative.
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.
Rubbing at a fading reminder of one such lesson on his left biceps, he hopes she appreciates what a formidable champion she’s gained.
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.
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.
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.
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.
She feels like an intruder, eyes watching her from empty rooms, and every stair is a memory she dares not to disturb.
You hide it well behind your bluster and your sulks, but the workings of your mind are at once cunningly devious and ruthlessly simple.
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'.
Very few alchemists believed in God, but all of them believed in books.
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.
And there was a certain look they shared, the one they both used when they thought Ed was being unreasonably stubborn.
Edward had come into his life, taken over his life; and sometimes Roy wondered what was left of it for him.
She could remember his voice, husky with tortured emotion, screaming a name, the name "Edward Elric..."
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.