...The world is saved. You two can just gnaw on each other for the rest of your lives.
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 finally took my advice and settled down! Not quite what I had in mind, of course, but I'm so happy for you!"
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.
And after all, no amount of rain can wash the blood away.
One day Edward was out kicking the crap out of those damn Homunculus with Al...
Years later when they shipped him off on a belated honeymoon, Roy went without audible protest.
Of all the castle's "guests," Roy was the only one not allowed to leave. Ever.
This really was turning out to be a day of surprises, thought Roy.
Roy could've sworn First Lieutenants existed only to invent torture methods for Colonels, but he wasn't about to say that one out loud.
You don't want to see spicy photos of my gorgeous girlfriend?
Smug, he'd stayed just long enough to give his report and then had marched straight off to Resembool with Al lagging behind.
Roy Mustang was shipped back home last week. Neat as a parcel of vegetables with the stamp upside-down on the crate.
"You're late," Ed tells him flatly. "You should have been here one minute and forty four seconds ago."
Ed did not want to die without seeing Alphonse again.
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.
Could I burn like that - would the lick of flames on my skin wipe me clean?
"When you put it that way--" Roy conceded. "But it does seem improbable. You promised me a murderer, but are you so sure that it was no accident?"
It’s February in Central. There’s nothing better to do.
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."
"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.
Today I saw the god of fire, Roy writes in his notebook, knowing he will never be believed.
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.
It hurt, somehow, to know that there was no one now who could see past the mask if he didn't want them to.
Yes, something was amiss, and Roy Mustang was going to find out what.
"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?"
"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
It was so terribly painful, really, the way he would smile when he was about to cry.
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.
And there was a certain look they shared, the one they both used when they thought Ed was being unreasonably stubborn.
Well, it sure looks like the rumors were true about Wednesday nights, Ed thought, easing inconspicuously along the edges of the room. But I never knew so many soldiers were gay.
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.
They are his signposts and self-inscriptions, cordoning off the book as his own, as something he possesses.
They could profane the inner sanctum; it would be a perfect cat burglary. Her father would never know a thing.
“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?”
Even though she wasn’t an alchemist, alchemy tended to stake a claim on all who were associated with it.
"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
Impress, they had told him. Make us see why we should choose you as one of our own.
Roy was enchanted by the sound of her voice, pure like dewdrops in the morning.
Once you promised me that you would dance on my grave. I'm keeping you to that promise, you know.
Only some things, he knew, could be repaired. Not every broken sword could be re-forged.
PR, we need PR, he kept telling himself, but at this point he didn't think he could string more than two sentences together.
On Thursdays, Riza Hawkeye usually skipped the morning work and went to the office at noon.
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.
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.
Dodge or block, it was still a whirlwind of events that could end up with him either winning or losing.
...the two men drank Roy's good whiskey, clinked glasses and Maes exclaimed that It was about damn time.