Impress, they had told him. Make us see why we should choose you as one of our own.
PR, we need PR, he kept telling himself, but at this point he didn't think he could string more than two sentences together.
"Don't go to sleep," he murmurs into Ed's hair, and thinks of their mother, long ago, telling a story about spinning straw into gold.
He remembered finding himself asking why the Fullmetal Alchemist would be the one to patch his own clothes.
There was a loud crack, like the sound of several chopsticks simultaneously being snapped in two, followed by the sound of something heavy falling, the object hitting the ground so hard the earth literally shook beneath Ed's feet.
"You paid for him to have sex?" Mustang says incredulously, putting his pen down on the table top and shoving the form away. "You bought him a prostitute?"
And there was a certain look they shared, the one they both used when they thought Ed was being unreasonably stubborn.
Fullmetal smiled a long, slow smile, the sort that promised evil things were in the near future, and put his boots up on Roy's desk.
"Well... Brother does that, every so often. He really should think before he tries to attack people."
It was so terribly painful, really, the way he would smile when he was about to cry.
The staff look at each other, look at their automail bottle-opener, and prepare to duck.
Today I saw the god of fire, Roy writes in his notebook, knowing he will never be believed.
Yes, something was amiss, and Roy Mustang was going to find out what.
Eventually, Roy had to take things into his own hands. Was it really his fault that it had ended up so literal?
“Sir,” he says, and Roy could be imagining it, but he thinks Falman’s usually flat tone has a hint of panic in it. “Have you read this memo yet?”
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.
One day Edward was out kicking the crap out of those damn Homunculus with Al...
While the Chief practices his best vengeful face and looks up the recipe for a fake corpse in some freaky alchemy cookbook, Breda and the rest of Team Mustang get to deal with the really annoying bits of this operation.
I didn't know on the phone. I didn't know on the train.
ROY: [calmly] If drinking means acting like an idiot the way you are, I'm going to pass.
You've only been awake for thirty-six hours, staged a coup, fought a bunch of monsters and nearly died a few times. It's not as if you've had a tough day.
rated:M-L-V | GEN | Mangaverse | post-series | SP: up to ch 108 | DF: ch 105 | Dr Marcoh | Alex Louis Armstrong | Alphonse Elric | Cdr Grumman | Dr Knox | Edward Elric | Riza Hawkeye | Roy Mustang | death | mystery
Could I burn like that - would the lick of flames on my skin wipe me clean?
"Tall girls need not apply," Hughes read aloud, without even the trace of a smirk.
rated:K | M+F S+S | Fullmetal | mid-series | First Place, Het & Non-Het | Green Lion Winner | Riza Hawkeye | Roy Mustang | angst | humor | sweet | Elric Kyoudai | 354th FG HQ | 2004 First Kiss, Non-Het
"You finally took my advice and settled down! Not quite what I had in mind, of course, but I'm so happy for you!"
On Thursdays, Riza Hawkeye usually skipped the morning work and went to the office at noon.
Years later when they shipped him off on a belated honeymoon, Roy went without audible protest.
It does not occur to him until later — years later — that this might be considered a case of sexual abuse.
They could profane the inner sanctum; it would be a perfect cat burglary. Her father would never know a thing.
Smug, he'd stayed just long enough to give his report and then had marched straight off to Resembool with Al lagging behind.
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.
If Ed had his way, his allowance (and all of Roy's salary) would be spent entirely on the most expensive brand of dog food to have ever existed.
He hadn't asked Hughes to follow him to this place.
Once you promised me that you would dance on my grave. I'm keeping you to that promise, you know.
It wasn't easy to imagine how he had been mistaken, because Al could swear that even from a distance, a hanged man looked very different from a tent post.
And after all, no amount of rain can wash the blood away.
Of all the castle's "guests," Roy was the only one not allowed to leave. Ever.
It hurt, somehow, to know that there was no one now who could see past the mask if he didn't want them to.
Death could come to Roy on his time. Appointment first. Lunch, maybe.
It was getting kind of depressing, though, by the time the color red alone would make him wonder about the child; the flash of a cardinal, a sprig of bright berries, the gaudiness of nighttime tavern lights, and the scarlet lipstick of bar women.
"Then I'm gonna rule the world, too," Maes replied, because he and Roy always did everything together.
The only problem was that Ed didn't know what the heck "getting some" was or what he was being congratulated for.
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.
"So, we're one gunshot from a civil war. If someone from Hakuro's faction fired that shot, for whatever reason ..."
rated:K-L-V | M+F S+S | Mangaverse | post-series | SP: ch 1-108 | DF: ch 105 | Alphonse Elric | Edward Elric | Roy Mustang | mystery | 354th FG HQ | UST | 2010 Best New Voices, Neophyte | Havoc/Rebecca
Dodge or block, it was still a whirlwind of events that could end up with him either winning or losing.
Roy was enchanted by the sound of her voice, pure like dewdrops in the morning.
...The world is saved. You two can just gnaw on each other for the rest of your lives.
"You're late," Ed tells him flatly. "You should have been here one minute and forty four seconds ago."