#day 1 damaged
fma week: Day 1 - Damaged or Elements
“This man… killed Dad and Mom?
Give them back…
Give back Dad and Mom!!”
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DISCLAIMER: I AM NOT AN ARTIST.
Holy hell.
Anywho, this is my “contribution” to FMA week. Day one: Damaged.
Join the fun here:
http://fmaweek.tumblr.com
I tried.
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“You don’t need a pawn that can’t move”
You don’t understand how much I cried when this happened. It was heartbreaking.
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AN: This is a drabble about my headcanon for Havocai.
Warning: Character has PTSD, night terrors and tremors
FMA week: day 1 - Damaged
I had such a busy weekend I completely forgot FMA week starts today! But as soon as I saw the prompt I knew exactly what screencap I want for it - the end of episode 5 is so perfect for “Damaged”, both because how incapable the elrics feel and how physically shattered they are.
I absolutely love the second half of episode 5 to bits, and especially this scene - it was a grounding moment for me in establishing Alphonse as my ultimate favourite character of… the entirety of all characters ever made.
Don’t know if I’ll have time to actually do every prompt, only if I’ll have a cool idea and time. Oh, time…
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FMA week Day 1: Damaged
I wanted to add his coat but I sadly have no time to do so:/
Based on an old sketch I made four years ago and happily took the idea for this prompt~ It was fun!:D
FMA is such a great animanga, it really makes me happy to draw it again~
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A Week of FMA, Day 1: Damaged (by loss)
“Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is Alchemy’s first law of Equivalent Exchange. In those days, we really believed that to be the world’s one and only truth.”
(see prompts here)
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They come to me, the damaged.
Not the broken. Not the beaten, not the hopeless, not the crushed, but the damaged.
Come, I call, if you dream of hope for the future. Come, if you want to heal. I will erase scars in fresh blood, and I will give life through harshest pain. Come, if you do not fear the cost; come, if you do not fear the fear.
I’m called a mechanic, but it’s my job to be a messiah. Under my hand, uselessness becomes renewal and sorrow becomes joy. I don’t beat swords into plowshares – I turn them to hands and feet, legs and arms and hope. I’ve saved as many lives as the best of doctors; I’ve made possible as many livelihoods as the most generous of governors. There have been so many times, so many, when I watch someone stand up and feel like I stand on the top of the world, where the air is so thin there is pain mixed with the pride in my lungs.
But it’s hard – for them, and for me. I’m called a mechanic, but it’s my job to be a murderess. When my patients scream and writhe under scalpel and wrench; when my friends stumble on twisting ankles or objects fall out of spasming hands; when the hurt is too great to bear and my devoted lose faith and death swoops down clad in dark metal – then, I am the one damaged.
When it works, though…
I’m called a mechanic, but it’s my job to be a mother. I nurse my patients; I bear them through fiery pain, hold them up as they learn to walk or write, tend to their cuts and bruises, chastise them when they’ve moved beyond me and still you never call, you never write… It’s the same pain, I imagine, the same sharp pride that is so worth it. Every one of my children is close enough to my heart to tear it out.
And then there’s him.
He, who I have saved and slaughtered and loved so much; who perseveres through the pain that I and life have given him, and keeps coming back for more. He, the most damaged of them all, and yet the most strong, kind, wise, bright.
I’m called a mechanic – it’s my job to repair. The damaged come, and I help them, hurt them, give them a home, and then send them on their way, to weather the world as best they can. And they return, again and again, torn up and ripped to shreds by the forces out there, and I wipe away my tears and set to work, because that’s my job.
He will always be damaged.
But I’m a mechanic; it’s my job to fix that.
