It does not occur to him until later — years later — that this might be considered a case of sexual abuse.
It hurt, somehow, to know that there was no one now who could see past the mask if he didn't want them to.
Even so, you still are a manipulative bastard.
Even though she wasnít an alchemist, alchemy tended to stake a claim on all who were associated with it.
Of all the castle's "guests," Roy was the only one not allowed to leave. Ever.
"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.
It would be a shame if the future Fuhrer got himself killed over something as trivial as a chess game.
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.
Today I saw the god of fire, Roy writes in his notebook, knowing he will never be believed.
"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
The only problem was that Ed didn't know what the heck "getting some" was or what he was being congratulated for.
Roy Mustang was shipped back home last week. Neat as a parcel of vegetables with the stamp upside-down on the crate.
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.
Once you promised me that you would dance on my grave. I'm keeping you to that promise, you know.
I didn't know on the phone. I didn't know on the train.
He remembered finding himself asking why the Fullmetal Alchemist would be the one to patch his own clothes.
They are his signposts and self-inscriptions, cordoning off the book as his own, as something he possesses.
Smug, he'd stayed just long enough to give his report and then had marched straight off to Resembool with Al lagging behind.
Ed did not want to die without seeing Alphonse again.
Death could come to Roy on his time. Appointment first. Lunch, maybe.
"Well... Brother does that, every so often. He really should think before he tries to attack people."
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.
...the two men drank Roy's good whiskey, clinked glasses and Maes exclaimed that It was about damn time.
"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."
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.
PR, we need PR, he kept telling himself, but at this point he didn't think he could string more than two sentences together.
"...That is an order, Fullmetal, and I will have you court-martialed if you refuse."
"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?"
He recalled lifting it cautiously up to his nose, and then back away from the stinging, spicy herbs along with the smouldering scent of tobacco.
It was so terribly painful, really, the way he would smile when he was about to cry.
"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?"
Roy was silent when Maes came back several minutes later. If he heard the sounds of retching from the bathroom, he didn't say.
"I know how things work, sir," the boy continued, laying the watch across his lap.
"Then I'm gonna rule the world, too," Maes replied, because he and Roy always did everything together.
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.
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'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
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."
Could I burn like that - would the lick of flames on my skin wipe me clean?
"You're late," Ed tells him flatly. "You should have been here one minute and forty four seconds ago."
Eventually, Roy had to take things into his own hands. Was it really his fault that it had ended up so literal?
He hadn't asked Hughes to follow him to this place.
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.
Roy was enchanted by the sound of her voice, pure like dewdrops in the morning.
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
"When I walked in on you in the bath, Edward, I wasn't expecting Al to be there too."
An alchemical reaction of the most ancient kind: sitting down to eat as though filling the stomach could replace the gap in one's heart.