Even though she wasnít an alchemist, alchemy tended to stake a claim on all who were associated with it.
Roy was enchanted by the sound of her voice, pure like dewdrops in the morning.
"Don't look so downcast!" orders Mustang, grinning maniacally. "Our honour is at stake! Don't let me down! Sometimes you just have to take one for the team!"
rated:K-L | M+F S+S | Mangaverse | pre-series | SP: no plot spoilers but stars characters we meet up t | Briggs Bears | Buccaneer | Miles | Olivia Mira Armstrong | Roy Mustang | 354th FG HQ | Rebecca Catalina
You don't want to see spicy photos of my gorgeous girlfriend?
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.
This wasn't really what he'd been expecting from surreptitious wartime sex. He'd thought it would be some kind of quickie round the back of the latrines.
They could profane the inner sanctum; it would be a perfect cat burglary. Her father would never know a thing.
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.
Roy Mustang was shipped back home last week. Neat as a parcel of vegetables with the stamp upside-down on the crate.
He decided, then, quite firmly, that he wasn't ever going to drink coffee again, with anybody. It was too risky.
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.
There were plenty of reasons she might have had two strapping policemen in her apartment first thing in the morning, but none of them involved a tiny, grouchy kid sitting at her kitchen table and scratching the dirt out of the woodgrain with his thum
"Then I'm gonna rule the world, too," Maes replied, because he and Roy always did everything together.
And there was a certain look they shared, the one they both used when they thought Ed was being unreasonably stubborn.
Dodge or block, it was still a whirlwind of events that could end up with him either winning or losing.
"You finally took my advice and settled down! Not quite what I had in mind, of course, but I'm so happy for you!"
Ed opened his mouth, and then closed it. "Visibility is that important to you, huh?" he said.
One day Edward was out kicking the crap out of those damn Homunculus with Al...
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.
The staff look at each other, look at their automail bottle-opener, and prepare to duck.
It would be a shame if the future Fuhrer got himself killed over something as trivial as a chess game.
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
Impress, they had told him. Make us see why we should choose you as one of our own.
The only problem was that Ed didn't know what the heck "getting some" was or what he was being congratulated for.
I didn't know on the phone. I didn't know on the train.
And after all, no amount of rain can wash the blood away.
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.
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.
Even so, you still are a manipulative bastard.
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.
Once you promised me that you would dance on my grave. I'm keeping you to that promise, you know.
Roy was silent when Maes came back several minutes later. If he heard the sounds of retching from the bathroom, he didn't say.
It was so terribly painful, really, the way he would smile when he was about to cry.
He hadn't asked Hughes to follow him to this place.
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.
Years later when they shipped him off on a belated honeymoon, Roy went without audible protest.
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.
Itís February in Central. Thereís nothing better to do.
"Well... Brother does that, every so often. He really should think before he tries to attack people."
Today I saw the god of fire, Roy writes in his notebook, knowing he will never be believed.
PR, we need PR, he kept telling himself, but at this point he didn't think he could string more than two sentences together.
"You'll be up against the wall before you know it, Mustang, right where you belong, eating the bullets of a firing squad for breakfast."
He doesn't look anything like Roy, and she's not sure if that's good or bad.
"I know how things work, sir," the boy continued, laying the watch across his lap.
Death could come to Roy on his time. Appointment first. Lunch, maybe.
On Thursdays, Riza Hawkeye usually skipped the morning work and went to the office at noon.
Yes, something was amiss, and Roy Mustang was going to find out what.