I C A R U S

OKAY GUYS—!! I’m too lazy, I have no more energy to make proper promos anymore. BUT!! this is my comeback to tumblr after some time away and I’m bringing back my most precious son.

SO~!! if you’re interested in interacting with a heavily headcanon’d, yet still canon compliant, incarnation of EDWARD ELRIC from hiromu arakawa’s FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST, please interact with this post somehow so I know to give your blog a lookie-loo**

me: screams into the void looking for people

the void: screams back

  A voice seemed to evolve from thin air. ANGELIC and POISE. 

                “I was wondering when you would show up.”

A woman stood at the front of the home. That FAMILIAR SMILE, the one she bore until the day she died, still plastered on her face. She looked as healthy as she had been before that fateful summer. Her figure, her eyes, her hair, perfect in every way, TOO PERFECT. (But that’s what happens in dreams, negative thoughts get tossed by the wayside.)

Trisha’s laugh followed with the wind. Strangely silent to be heard from a distance.  Arms open up, she exclaims-

“Come here, don’t be a stranger!”

                                                                      “-Unless you’ve forgotten your old, dear mother?”

     Her voice, SWEETER than even he'd remembered, washed over Ed like a tide of warm comfort he hadn’t known in so long. && he knows it’s a dream, but that feeling is still there. Dead 10 years && he still wants to run to her. To wrap both arms around her && hold onto her like a babe--- - HER babe. A DESPERATE sense of longing that led him to that SMILING gate to begin with. What had ripped his whole world asunder && placed its weight ‘pon his squared shoulders && told him to KEEP WALKING.

     Heart pounding in the depths of his throat, Ed can feel himself shaking as he pulls his feet under him. Automail creaks with the rise of his figure && it doesn't occur to him that he doesn't know where Al is. Because he's had this DREAM before && he can’t take those GOLDEN eyes off of her. A swell of emotion rises in his chest && he can’t place however hard he tries. It pulls Edward into a marching trek across the yard. Up the hill. TOWARD HER. Toward that welcoming house && the laundry on the line && arms that hold wide for HIM.

     “ Mom. . ? “ There’s no soft melody to his voice the way there is hers. She’s PERFECT && he can’t compare. The words crack in a the softness of a tenor yet developing. “ Mom!! “

Watching through a thin curtain of blonde bangs, Winry’s gaze tracked Edward as he carefully crept into her hiding place with her and settled down. She expected him to tell her that Granny was worried–as though she didn’t already know–but he didn’t, instead he just asked if she’d be ready to come out later.

She bit her lip, fresh tears skating down her cheeks as the soft press of shade cooled flesh met with Edward’s sun warmed shoulders. Her head landed on his shoulder as she leaned on him, tears leeking down her chin and cheeks to drip down his arms as they sat there.

“It’s true, isn’t it…? What Granny said, my mom and dad aren’t coming home, are they Ed…?” The answer didn’t need to be said, they both knew what it was, and after a moment of silence, she fell back into tears as she clutched to him for dear life.

     Her question left a hitch in his throat. Empty space where an answer should have been, but wasn’t. Ed didn’t know what to tell her. It seemed fruitless--- - silly even - ---to tell her what Granny had all over again. She KNEW. Just like he had. Just like Al had. That absence sat too heavy in little breasts to be denied.     Yet she was asking. . .

     “ No, Winry--- “ Swallowing, he leaned against her. Remembered how it felt with his mother. Reached to wrap an arm around her skinny shoulders like he had Alphonse back then. && for a moment, it didn’t matter that she’s older than is, bigger than he is. Because that’s not what’s important right now.   “ ------They’re not coming back. “

                   LIGHT. Warm && white, like something BIBLICAL, washing over him where he laid flat on his back. && he can't remember falling asleep, but his eyes are opening slow to the sound of peaceful silence && the countryside. There's a lush pad of green with tall grass grown wild curling around his stocky figure to arch skyward. For want of the GOLDEN sun in the sky.

Realization, slow && blunt, hit him like a slow-moving train. && it's all he can do to jar himself upright. To take in the FAMILIAR sight of a squat, stone wall && a house standing on a hill.

                     A HOUSE HE'D BURNT DOWN LONG AGO.

     " Wh—What the hell? " Like a DREAM from a memory, he can recall everything in sight   (&& more beyond where the landscape ends in a blank, white expanse). The road ends only a little past the wall, but he remembers what should be there. The swing on the tree. The clothes on the line. The broad-paned windows that led into a kitchen in the back. He knows it all at once && it HURTS to look at the same time.   " ——What's going on!? "