Extreme waff, bordering on saccharine.
At fifteen he had been intimidating; at thirty, he could be terrifying.
"It's cold and dark and raining, and there are thugs roaming the street - brother, have a heart! He could be killed! He could become kitten stew!"
And he was tired, and he did eventually fall asleep, to the vague hum of voices in discussion downstairs.
People all have different ideas of beauty, Al knows, and no two ever appear to be the same.
I noticed, Ed told him with as much edge as he could muster.
"He's a smug arrogant prick and Jean's a lazy bastard with a mouth like an ashtray."
It is somewhat odd that two brothers can be so different, yet so close.
"Al," Ed said seriously and leaned forward to look up into his brother's glowing eyes, "if he had mind control powers, you would tell me, right?"
It was so strange, the way Alphonse's suddenly reduced size could make Edward look suddenly so much bigger.
"In case you hadn't noticed," Ed went on, poking Roy in the chest, "I am no longer twelve."
Schezcka pushed her glasses up, using the glass reflection to hide her eyes.
When there was no answer, he tried again, but gave up after that. It wasn't like Ed would get eaten by a rabid saucepan, or something.
If there was something Al still deeply enjoyed about his illness, it was seeing Ed play a sort of housewife.
He staggered to a halt, abruptly terrified of pressing onwards through the mist, and tried not to cry.
As much as he loved his family, Alphonse Elric wouldn't have traded these moments alone for anything.
The brush began its march through the sunbeam locks, from crown to tail, and Riza pressed her lips to them. "Until then."
There were many things that Edward Elric didn't want the world to know, secrets to be protected at all cost.
Humans are so greedy, the Truth had told him in his dreams; and for all his airs and graces, he is no exception.
Not many people are close enough to his brother to have seen either of the first two with any sort of frequency.
Let me start by saying that I love my grandchildren. Actually, they’re my great great grandchildren, but that’s repetitive and makes me sound old, so screw that.
What could you give a soul trapped in a suit of armour as a present?
Red. It looked strange on him, the red did, strange and somehow distressing.
She laughs to see the grand scholar on his stomach on the floor of the living room, reading his sons a fairy tale from a fat little book.
"Can I trust you," Ed's dewy eyes were huge and he looked somehow younger than he'd ever looked before.