I may be enjoying this too much. If you read the following (which I hope you do), I'm not that sorry. There's nothing to be sorry about, actually. It is a perfectly Okay story. No torture involved. None. Nada.
I don't own the beautiful story of FMA, but I do own the wondrous creation that is this fanfiction.
Tada! Eddy, Don't You See the Sparks?
'Yo, Eddy!" A grumble came from the dark, grey bed. Then a huff. Then a snore.
"YO… Pipsqueak." Edward finally sat up. In surprise (and anger), of course, as Envy had somehow managed to sneak into his bedroom. He punched Envy into the road, and then looked over to Alphonse's bed. Empty.
Where the fuck was his adorable YOUNGER brother?
Edward climbed out of the bed (what a bullshit task that is – just like stairs) and picked out some clothes. Only he didn't, and stood there groaning and moaning for basically years.
"…GAH! I don't know what to we- Oh, they're all the same outfit," at this point, little Eddy face palmed as he remembered he HAD no other clothes than the too-tight-black-jeans and the tiny over coat with the cape and that black top and dem boots. When Edward thought about it, he realized how warped his fashion sense was and that he needed to buy new clothes.
-After the most difficult task in the world-
Edward groaned yet again. Those too-skinny skinny jeans were well hard to put on. Like tights. Not that he would know (he is a closet cross-dresser).
Suddenly, this flame set his pretty red ribbon on fire.
"AGH! FOR ****S SAKE, YOU ******* ********, I'LL NAW YOUR ******* **** OFF, THEN THROW IT IN YOUR ******* FACE, YOU **** handler!" He yelled at no one in particular. Until he saw it.
"Colonel Bastud…" A smirk was shot his way, and a metal arm/knife sent Roy's.
Stay in tune to see if Roy lives :{O