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My attempt at an FMA OCI've never made an FMA character before (it's too sacred! I could never create an OC worthy of the wonder and glory that is FMA! *bowage*) but hey, there's a first for everything!
Name: Christopher (or "Chris" for short)
Current age: 26
Title/Alias: "Andrew Andante"
Background: Chris was born and raised in Rush Valley. He lived with his parents (both very skilled automail engineers), his fiesty little sister Janie and his wise old grandma Beatrice, a professional counselor who has a knack for gardening and playing the piano.
He grew up under a lot of pressure from his parents. They always expected him to inherit their talents in automail and take on the family business, and were dismayed when he showed no aptitude for it and took to music and writing instead - especially his dad. Chris tried hard to please his parents and get better with automail, but all efforts were disasterous. His grandmother quickly noticed his creative tale
More Than EnoughEdward yawned as he set his empty water glass on the kitchen counter and glanced at the clock: 2:36 AM. He winced.
Why did he even bother staying up so late with his dusty alchemy books anymore? No matter how much he studied or how he longed to feel the exhilarating surge of energy flowing through his fingers again, it wouldn't return that part of him.
Not that he really cared. The sacrifice had been small compared to the overwhelming, almost painful joy of getting his brother back, and he'd gladly give it up for Al again...and more, if he had to. A hundred times over.
The 26-year-old reached up and pulled out his pony-tail, letting long, blond hair fall loose around his shoulders and flop in his bleary eyes. He stifled another yawn, his metal leg creaking in protest as he dragged his feet down the hallway; the anticipation of soft pillows and warm arms calling him to sleep.
A sharp cry met his ears just when he reached the bedroom door, and all thoughts of sleep fled his mind a
Birthnight"I never knew the nights were this long. Before this, I always spent my nights talking with brother about alchemy, about our future...and once we got tired from all the talking, we'd fall asleep and dream of happy things. One night seemed so short then. Now one night feels so... so awfully long." Alphonse Elric, chapter 43
~ -:- ~
Edward Elric loves to sleep.
After all, spending every day traveling, researching, chasing leads and getting into various kinds of trouble can get a bit tiring. And he once heard that getting a good night's rest helps you grow, so what he misses from his issues with milk he makes up for in sleeping hours. (In his reasoning, anyway.) He doesn't care anymore where he tucks in for the night; he'll sleep on anything from couches to cold, hard ground, with only a tuft of grass for his pillow. Arms beneath his head, tucked by his chest or sprawled every which-way, mouth slightly open in a gentle snore, shirt rumpled upwards just enough to expos
Starlight"They could see that it was a tall girl, dressed in a single long garment of clear blue which left her arms bare. She was bare-headed and her yellow hair hung down her back. And when they looked at her, they thought they had never before known what beauty meant." --The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
He could never clearly describe how he fell in love with her. It was too wonderfully strange to explain; something that couldn't quite fit into human words.
All he knew is that when he saw her, he saw her. It was as though someone had pulled back a curtain and granted him a glimpse of something inside, behind and beyond what his five senses told him. Whenever she looked at him, he forgot all about her golden hair and slender figure...for what he saw in her dazzled him far more than mere physical attraction could.
He'd seen countless women and suitors back in Narnia and Archenland. Princesses, noblewomen, peasants, kitchen maids...many of them lovely an
Ever By Your Side
"Do you have it all memorized now?" Trisha gazed expectantly into a pair of solemn blue eyes. The little girl nodded.
"Uh-huh. And I won't forget it, ever," she promised, swinging her legs as she perched on the edge of the bed.
"Good girl," said Trisha, a weary but proud smile on her lips. "I knew I could count on you. And remember," she added, leaning forward and raising her eyebrows mysteriously, "you can't tell anyone about this, not even Ed and Al. It's our special secret, alright? Can you keep it safe for me?"
"Of course I can!" The words were hot and stubborn, filled with childish passion. "I promise I won't ever tell an-y-one. Cross my heart. 'Sides," Winry muttered as a resentful afterthought, "they never tell me their secrets."
~ -:- ~
They never told her their secrets, instead burying themselves in dusty alchemy books and the mysteries of the universe, driven by blind desire and false hope...and now they have paid the price for it. Ed is eleven and
TLO - And Then There Were TwoIt began with an old stone wall...and a band-aid. But that part comes later.
The wall was one of his favorite thinking spots. It stood on the farthest edge of the campus, overlooking the playground, and there were places all along the top row where the weathered stones had been broken or knocked off, leaving empty gaps that were just the right size and shape for a boy like him to sit. (Or crouch. Which was usually what he preferred.)
He would go there every other day or so during free time, lightly hoist himself up and stay perched there for a good long time, contented to hug his knees to his chest and watch the other children scurry and chase each other in the distance. No one paid him any attention or joined him on his perch, and he never bothered to come down and play with them. There was always just one on the wall; just him, solitary and impassive.
But today was different.
Because today, there was a girl. Sitting right in his favorite thinking spot. A scrawny little girl with mess
Piano MagicDarkness whispered outside, and frosty stars sparkled in the windows. Bits of fake snow and glitter were scattered here and there, with crumpled-up programs lying in the pews and the last strains of "Joy to the World" echoing in my head. The Christmas concert was over, and my family was off in the reception hall snarfing down sugar cookies with everyone else. Normally I'd be with them (I have an awful sweet tooth)...but this time, something had told me to stay behind.
I glanced around the sanctuary one last time. The dim lighting combined with Christmas-sparkle gave everything a sort of dreamy, enchanted feeling. There was no one else in this magic room no one but me, and that gorgeous baby grand that stood on the stage, tilted oh-so-invitingly in my direction. Like a moth to a flame, I made my way down the aisle to have a better look at it.
An aching longing to play filled my heart. My old clavinova back home was nothing compared to this glistening instrument, the
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More