A collaboration by Bob Fish and Enemytosleep
Ling was an expert at this shit, he really was: making Ed feel too bad to say no to him, throwing out weird, cheeseball compliments that made his cheeks fire and froze his brain before he could brush them off
Hadn't he survived a month on a deserted island when he was ten, equipped only with a little knife and one pair of shorts? He was tough. He was rugged. He could fall asleep anywhere. He could totally do this.
Of course he came through the window.
Tomorrow: having to talk to fucking Hohenheim. The day after tomorrow: the apocalypse. No pressure, eh?
This really was turning out to be a day of surprises, thought Roy.
Ed should have remembered this from that month on the island, back when he was a kid: you can only be in the great outdoors so long before you start dreaming of hot showers. And of dumping the people you're travelling with in them.
Stay observant! Amestris needs you!
These days, he loves the movies.
It was kind of ironic, and kind of inconvenient, that Rush Valley, the capital city of automail, was also hot as hell for half the year.
After the fighting was over, and the chaos afterwards, and after that the longer, slower process of establishing a semblance of order and calm, they finally got to the good part. Which was to say, the partying.
What the hell was he going to say when Ed and Winry asked him if he met any nice girls in Xing?
Winry had never gotten to appreciate the leather pants in her current position as the person who got to unzip them.
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
They could profane the inner sanctum; it would be a perfect cat burglary. Her father would never know a thing.
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.