No romantic plot or subplot; no identifiable pairings outside canonical relationships.
A collection of 100 word ficlets.
His brother was brilliant at many things, but finances were not one of them.
He knew, as he had never known before, his own body; the strength and flexibility in every limb, every joint, every bone.
She feels like an intruder, eyes watching her from empty rooms, and every stair is a memory she dares not to disturb.
"Stupid bullies," Ed grumbled, limping for a few steps before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be feeling it. "Call me a girl, will they?"
In the file were pictures of the alchemist's circle where the boys had attempted to bring back their mother.
And of course, he does not believe in God anyway, and scorns the idea of predestination.
The cheap ink has blurred and run, but Ed's memorized the gist: Riesenbul needs help; come sort things out.
"You. Boy by the window who's been doodling all the way through. What would be the result of this equation?"
I, the stray dog of the desert, who sloped long and pale, slashed to ribbons, across the moonlight sands on my journey to God.
"Those are very nice gloves," Pinako observed when Edward came back.
I had asked him, thinking she would say yes, that everything would be okay, that no one would tell my brother no because I know I never could.
rated:G | GEN | Fullmetal |
Are you listening to me, Lieutenant Hawkeye?
Edward Elric was in an exceedingly bad mood.
You don't want to see spicy photos of my gorgeous girlfriend?
"Oh yeah... Huh!" Ed looked around, brightening. "Wow, it looks a lot different upright and not burning."
I really don't like this body, he thought sadly; if he'd had a face to pout with, he would have.
She could remember his voice, husky with tortured emotion, screaming a name, the name "Edward Elric..."
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.
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.
Your eyes stared up at me, wide and questioning, in a response not fit for such a young child.
She hated being idle; it ranked far above the petty pain of a mere gunshot-wound in her personal list of annoyances.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her tobac tin, more to annoy her visitor than anything else.
It was beautiful, this pre-industrial world, with its white snows and ever-visible rainbows and the dazzling night sky. But it was also dreadful, seething with ignorance and man-made horrors.
Ed shrugged, although his expression suggested he was trying to keep from being too smug about beating a man almost twice his age.
Ed's arms swept out, taking in the street and the buildings, the grass and the trees and the sky -- "the world and our own minds to understand it! That's all!" Isn't that enough?
Greed has one, fundamental, flaw.
His arms weren't big enough to encompass all of himself, and Edward always got the pieces that he couldn't reach.
For now, he has mastered one world, two worlds; they have mastered him as well, and he is tired.
Alchemy. It's all fun and games until somebody loses a limb and creates an abomination.
It was easy enough to start a fire, with the appropriate array and dry wood.
They shared the same eyes, the same hair, and a level of intelligence ... and sometimes, Ed felt far too much like he was his father's son.
Even Hawkeye could be caught off guard, and the men moving in too late, even five seconds too long, too far away.
It would be a shame if the future Fuhrer got himself killed over something as trivial as a chess game.
I could sleep here, soundly, knowing that I followed in his footsteps, lay in the same beds, held the same forks and glasses, and spoke with the same people he had protected.
"I was your mother once," Dante told him with an air of great drunken magnanimity one evening.
What kind of stupid creature would walk willingly and calmly to its own violent, brutal death?
The first time your mother asked you what you wanted to be, you answered, 'King of the whole world!'
He can still feel in his cheeks the faint scratch of beard against skin when his father kissed him there.
As stated in the catalog, our Model 436b Hairless Ape is highly customizable, designed with the discerning deity in mind.
It wasn't a nightmare; nightmares leave him shaking and sweating, but now he's oddly calm.
Around when the hour of nine rolls up to the door, fat as a bellied barfly, Roy has already taken his jacket off the hook and has gone outside to walk.
But at least there was softness beneath the fear, and the eyes apologized to her for her pain, even when the lips did not.
Besides, no one ever said that tumultuous times had to begin with a fanfare.