Blissful Ignorance

Disclaimer: I don?t own Fullmetal Alchemist, nor do I own the Crystal Alchemist or the Flame Alchemist. Lyrics belong to Johnny Cash, the song being titled Hurt; VERY good song, by the way, much inspiration there.
Dedication: TOTALLY to Mellie. My gift to her.




Hurt
By: Leia Avenrose
Rating: PG-13




I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain;
The only thing that?s real


Dark crimson stained the floorboards. Spread out along the ground, the wood had soaked each drop, taking away the life of those who had fallen on that very same spot and, only days later, left a gruesome sight of crusted crimson clinging deep within the cracks. Their office had been of medium size; a rectangular table pushed against the wall, a bookshelf alongside it, then another in front of it a few feet away, while two cots made with fresh linen were situated next to the doorway. The stool had been upturned, papers scattered across the floor. Some of the parchment had soaked in the blood, the glass shattered when the picture frame of a small fair-haired girl had connected with the ground.

Two shots.

Two doctors.

Married, they had a small daughter; fair and blonde, her eyes as blue as a clear summer sky, her smile as innocent as the wildflowers blooming on a fresh spring morning.

The woman had panicked, seeing him appear in their doorway; she had thought him to be injured. She had asked if he needed assistance; he would never forget the fear that entered her eyes the moment his hand reached for his gun. He would never forget the man?s cries as he watched his wife?s body jerk beneath the impact of the bullet, her eyes wide and staring.

Two shots.

Two parents.

His hands trembled. His aim wavered. He had a mission, and he would see it carried out no matter what his regrets were, or how he felt. The woman had taken his first shot in the chest, her startled gasp a mere whisper along the air, lost beneath the sounds of gunfire just outside the building. Her husband, having turned on the stool at the sound of her inquiry prior, had rushed to her side, grabbing her under the arms just before her knees had hit the ground. He had swept everything off the desk, using the edge as leverage as he had dived to catch her. The shattered frame was forgotten; the smiling innocence was lost at that moment.


The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything


Roy Mustang grit his teeth, swallowing past the lump of bile lodged in his throat. His hands shook harder; he levered the gun lower, aimed at the man?s back. A human life; no, two. He had seen the carnage and death left behind from the war, he had seen the blood splattered along brick and gnarled steel, the broken limbs still twitching in death. He had seen it all; he wondered when he would wake up from this nightmare, this nightmare he was ashamed to call his ?life?. He wanted nothing more then to let them leave, to go back to their daughter, to see her grow and live life to its fullest.

But not today.

His second shot hit the man in the middle of his back. His body jerked forward, and he tightened his arms around the woman he had loved for so long; the woman he had met, cherished, married, and would die with. Their career had been a successful one, albeit long. The bullet had passed through his body, entering his wife?s through mid-torso. More blood leaked onto the floor, and both bodies twitched under the force of the bullet.


What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end


Her body was limp against him. The pain blooming in his chest stole his breath, blinded him. Tears burned his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. His shirt clung to his body, coated through with the sticky warmth that was the lifeblood of God passed on through His children upon the moment of birth. His arms lost feeling, and as he fell to the ground on his knees hard, he lost his grip on his wife. It seemed almost an eternity before his hands met the blood splattered along the floor. His wife lay just beneath him, his body almost oblique along hers. She felt cold, even through the blood seeping out through their clothing, pooling out beneath them in an ever-growing puddle.

That same cold was beginning to bleed into his bones.

Each breath was painful.

Absently he kicked his legs, sucking in sharply. He let out a choked sob, keeping his forehead pressed into the blood-covered floor. Trying to move his fingers, he felt the edge of the frame, not caring if he cut his fingers on the broken glass; a little more blood wouldn?t hurt anybody.


You could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt


Roy, breathing heavily, staggered back a step. He kept his gun raised, but only halfway. Beads of sweat trickled down the sides of his face, and he grit his teeth harder, watching as the doctor touched the frame with his daughter. His stomach heaved, his eyes riveted to the sight of blood smeared along her chin and body. Again he staggered back, loosening his hold on his gun.

The doctor?s body gave a twitch, and then went still.

Soft brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail was lost beneath the red pooling out from under the bodies. Red was the only color his mind registered; it was all he would see for the following days. His hands fell to his side. He nearly lost his hold on the gun, but he didn?t care. They had been doctors; they had been neutral. They helped both the Military and the Ishbal; had they not thought of the consequences their actions would bestow upon them in the end?


I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar?s chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair


Days later, he was back in that same office, standing in the same spot where he had drawn his gun and taken more innocent life.

The bottle had been full. He had hoped to drown out his grief and regrets with that one bottle, but all the anguish had grown by ten-fold. It had grown so much that he continuously questioned himself, frequently thought about the options he should?ve considered giving them regardless of his mission. He could?ve given them a warning, he could?ve told them to pack up and go home to their daughter lest be killed by another Military officer. Why hadn?t he thought of that before? Why? Why? Why?


Beneath the stain of time
The feeling disappears
You are someone else
I am still right here


The last ?why? was too much for him to handle, and the bottle fell to the ground with a loud clatter. The bloodstains had darkened over a course of only two days. Two days had been the last he had been there, and that had been to kill them. The stool had been put back on its feet in front of the desk, the scattered paperwork gone after been collected. Even the bookshelves had been emptied of the books; all of medical use and terms.

The empty bottle rolled along the floor, but the noise fell upon deaf ears. He stared blankly at the dark stains in front of him, a thin sheen sheet of perspiration breaking out along his brow and cheeks, matting his unruly bangs against his forehead. His thoughts and heart were both racing; he could end it all, end the regrets that haunted him day in and day out, end the grief that flowed through his brain knowing he had killed a couple that were his allies ? yet his foe.

With the realization dawning on him, he bit back a strangled sob, and hastily reached behind him for his gun. Trembling fingers grasped the smooth handle, ripping it out of the holster. Holding his finger to the trigger, he brought it up under his chin, swallowing heavily, his shoulders and hands shaking. He longed to be rid of all of this; this was not something he wished to live with for the rest of his life.

The nightmare had to end, one way or another.

Roy held the gun under his chin. He couldn?t help but shudder at the feel of the cool steel pressed against his skin. The sweat on his face trickled down his neck, soaking into the filthy collar of his once white shirt.

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end

All thought fled him as he fingered the trigger.

?Don?t,? came the sharp voice from behind, startling him. Roy quickly pulled the gun away, his heart missing a few beats in his chest. It was a painful feeling.

Gritting his teeth, he lowered the gun, and turned around. The Crystal Alchemist, Marco, stood in the doorway, his face rugged and worn, and his eyes sad and tired. He wore a strap across his chest, the leather bag behind him, while he held two briefcases in both hands. His shoulders were hunched forward somewhat beneath the long, dark trench coat, his Military uniform showing out through the gapping front.

?You just followed orders,? he went on. ?I am responsible for this. They were doctors, like me, and saved lives, but I?? His voice trailed off. Roy watched with a haggard appearance as the older man?s face fell, his eyes lowering; the misery building inside revealed itself more and more along the creases in his forehead, the crow?s feet at the edges of his eyes.


You could have it all
My empire of dity
I will let you down
I will make you hurt


Slowly Roy let his eyes drift to the floor, and finally finding his voice, he murmured, ?What should I do??

The Crystal Alchemist lifted his gaze. His voice was quiet, as he spoke. ?Can you not say anything and let me go??

His eyes widened, and they flew to the old man. Without another word, Marco turned, leaving in silence. Roy stared after him, even long after he had left the building. Lifting his hand, he stared at the gun. He closed his eyes, bringing a hand up, and dug his fingers into them, rubbing away the lingering tears and fatigue, as he slowly backed up towards the cot and sat down heavily. He dropped the gun to the ground, bringing both hands to his face, and burying it within them. At that moment, he realized that there was another way out of this nightmare, and as his shoulders shook, he took that way out.


If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

Oh, my poor Roy! Such a sad and tragic story, I love the emotions you portrayed. Like Blurry Eyes, this takes the episode a bit deeper. Just the emotions of his actions! I can't wait to listen to the song and read. Great job, Leia. and <33! Your side fics provide a wonderful look into emotions. I just love my angst, and when you throw in some Roy, well, let's just say even if I fail my chem test, I won't be in a bad mood! *remembers to sharpen pencils* Thanks so much for taking a look at Roy! He's my favorite character and most recent (for whatever reason. I finished FMA just before Christmas break in December) anime bishi addiction ! Hearts to an awesome portrayal of him. For some reason, I love the angsty side of him! Thanks so much, big sis! This was a wonderful treat to wake up to!

*glomp* It was all for you! ^__^ <33

Wow....just wow.

That song, I heard it when I worked at a bookstore last year, every night over the store stereo, and every night I drifted off to my own world for the four minutes it played. For the most part I would walk around in a daze, my eyes never really seeing the oblivious guests who, for some reason, weren't aware or affected by the song, but at rare moments the pain of the melody in tandem with the words was just too much, and whether I felt a personal sympathy or just a general despair I had to escape to the magazine overstock room and cry. There were so many ways that song breached my customer service facade, the happy bookseller, and touched the real me who wonders about the lives of the strangers walking around me, reading sex books or bibles when they think no one is looking. I have a habit of that; no matter where I am I see the lives beyond the skin and hair and eyes and I wonder if they, too, are hearing that song and are really in a daze like me.

So, after that soliloquy, it is no wonder that I felt a great weight within me when I read this. You've handled his pain in that same hidden fashion, where, inside that little back room away from the crowds where he committed his life's treason, he hides and weeps, stung by words that others don't hear or pretend they don't hear. With Marco fleeing, he is all alone, will be surrounded by strangers who wear the mask of ignorance, and sadly he has to don the same thing. How powerful this was. His pain was tangible and opaque, and the emotion settled deep in your writing like the blood in the floorboards. Perfect song for a perfect, painful passage.

Amazing job.

~ice princess

Before I get into your review with a long-ass-essay reply, I really have to say THANK YOU for this (the words you used were amazing, they mean a lot to me, just that first little line from 'His' to 'floorboards' *gives a bow* I'm glad I was able to portray our little Roy Mustang so well, along with his emotions):

"His pain was tangible and opaque, and the emotion settled deep in your writing like the blood in the floorboards. Perfect song for a perfect, painful passage."



And now...

"I have a habit of that; no matter where I am I see the lives beyond the skin and hair and eyes and I wonder if they, too, are hearing that song and are really in a daze like me."

I totally understand what you mean. When I look at someone, I don't wonder about the usual things like how they get their hair so straight, or how they get their teeth so white, or their make-up so right; I look past the outside appearances and I look inside. As I look inside, I wonder about their life, how it is, what's going on, how they're doing, what they're thinking at that moment as they do whatever it is they're doing the moment I look at them--I want to actually see into them and see through THEIR eyes the things they do; is how they see things the same as I?

Sometimes it's hard to find someone so equal to you in one little detail, whether it be that they do the same thing as you do as you listen to a breathtaking song, or if they cry at the same parts you do in a specific film, get choked up during a heartstopping series like FMA... *coughs* Call me obsessed, but I'm literally in love with FMA and don't think I'll ever stop lovin' it; so far I've found my equal in FMA... Mellie. I can go to her and I can squeal, scream, gush, cry alongside her simply because she feels the same way I do about the series. *glomps Ice Princess*

It's strange; I'll watch the series further in, and when it focuses on either Roy or Ed's angst... I can actually feel it. I think it's because of the side-stories I wrote concerning the two of them; Hurt and Blurry Eyes. Not only did I give you, the reader, an insight to how they truly feel and what they are 'really' thinking in their moment of despair, but I gave myself that same insight, and I'm actually quite glad I was able to do it and make it so real.

Believe it or not, Johnny Cash reminds me of the bad-days/nights I had when my grandmother would get drunk and smoke, whether it be in her own home or anywhere else. She'd listen to Johnny Cash, all those country oldies. It was my brother who sent me the song, said it was awesome, and that I should listen to it. And I did. After the first few times I listened to it, I couldn't stop, and I kept it on repeat despite the angst behind the words...

I saw the episode with Roy and the Rockbells... and it came to me; first I wrote it out, and as I was half-way done the story... the song played in my Winamp. I was unsure whether to use it and even make this fic into a song-fic; it wasn't until I wrote in the last word that I decided on it and searched out the lyrics. Took me two read-throughs to make sure the lyrics were in the right place, and I fell in love with it. I honestly think it portrays Roy well...


"I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar?s chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair

Beneath the stain of time
The feeling disappears
You are someone else
I am still right here

The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end"

Those lines portray him the best, IMHO. They've opened the door to what how he feels, at least for me. And my, my, this is a long reply.

Feel free to add and reply. This could make a very interesting discussion, methinks.

I love your long reply. I love how much you delve into your writing and how you digest your themes and inspiration with the insights and viewpoints of your readers. That's what makes for the best writing, the ability to step deep enough within yourself to find a common ground with people you've never met. Isn't that amazing that we can do that? I mean people in general, that with music and writing and a few well placed words we can feel the exact same stirring inside? Thinking about it, really, truly letting it toss and turn in my mind - that blows me away.

I wonder if the music muses weren't giving you a gift the night your wrote this piece, by letting that song play inconspicuously in the background of your (no-doubt) furious typing. It has such significance for you, and it almost came alive through you because the words of this song hold a depth for you that others most surely would've missed. I think the piece could've stood alone without the aid of the song, but knowing how haunting it is, how painful the melody, it almost set your prose to music, making it swell with reserves of emotion.

I think about how your grandma clutched to those old country artists, nostalgia, and I wonder if Mr. Cash himself couldn't feel some of her pain combined with those of other listeners toss and turn in his own heart. I wonder if their spirits didn't influence him to choose that song, because, just like you, he must've delved so deep inside himself when hearing those lyrics that he *knew* it would create a common ground among strangers. Song is so powerful that way, as words are. It's astounding how many patterns are woven with the threads of song, words and storytelling.

I agree with you and Mellie about FMA. It's not the traditional anime that I gravitate towards, because it doesn't involve any traditional romance, implied or not. It's very much an epic, elongated character study, quest, and fireside folktale all in one. No matter how many people Ed and Alphonse meet, no matter how many obstacles they or the main military characters overcome, there is a distinctly simple and provincial narrative underlying the grandiose journey. They search for a strange power, but really the journey for each is within. This is what reaches us and what formulates such a strong story. The insight and commonality is the emotion - the imaginative setting unimportant, the powers inconsequential. It's been awhile since I've felt such empathy, to a point where I almost overlook the mystical elements that normally would be enough to keep me entertained. I'm just watching in on Cartoon Network Adult Swim, but every new episode on Saturday, that time is reserved for FMA.

I love what you wrote about..well...why you write, that the side-stories written help you dissect and immerse yourself in the series. It really is the same way that we look at real people and wonder about the inner them; understanding them, in turn, helps us understand ourselves. Understanding the motivation and frailty of FMA's characters helps us, through written word, accept our own inequities. I bet the best writers out there, hellfire, the best *artists* would agree with us, Leia, that they sit and watch others for hours and just this simple observation is enough to stir their heart, is enough to open doors and set pen to paper, is enough to inspire and transform.

If it's not too personal, can I ask you what you thought of "Hurt" the first time you heard it? Was it cleansing, awkward (in the memories it stirred), nostalgic? Just curious. It's good to finally find someone who truly understands, and can express it so readily.

love you!

~ice princess

Uh...I think I rambled.

Well hell. I had such a lovely response written out for you; at least the starting paragraph of my response and my browser ate it. *strokes her browser fondly, then cracks it with a ruler* Bad browser, BAD. And woah ... browser... wasn't that ... Mario? Silly spiked beast always trying to steal the Beauty. *cackles at the Disney implications* Okay, Leia's not craaaaaazeh, she's just lacking sleep, folks! Yup. Yup. .... Yup!

So, yes, my reply... damnit, I really wish I could remember it, wow, it was a good one, too. *facepalms* I totally understand what you're getting at. Just about anyone can have that happen to them, whether through writing or song; it's amazing. What I find so amazing about it is ... you have no idea whatsoever what might happen. And it's odd, it really is, as with what you write or sing, it will draw people, people you never knew existed, ever. You'll find that your likes are the same as for your dislikes, and that's amazing, yet so frightening. There's another YOU out there, maybe more then just one. I enjoy meeting new people; it means exciting things will happen in the future, that your life will change the moment you exchange greetings, shake hands or mention one thing and the BOTH of you are squealing like the little girls you used to be (or shouting and grinning like ... the boys you used to be when you got uh... a new G.I. Joe for Christmas? ).

I'll use an example; Mellie. We all know her. We all love her. I love her; she's great, and most amusing. The other night, we got into a big discussion about Disney and what we liked of it. We had so many similarities that it's strange. We have so much in common from our undying obsession with FMA to Disney movies to music and men, oh yes ... men. Mmm. Think of my friendship with her as equivalent trade; you'd have no idea how many things we've exchanged, including the trust we have in each other. *scratches the back of her head* That whole ... Free IPod is a clear example for where the trust comes in.

I think I enjoy meeting people who can feel that same stirring inside with the same things as me. I mean ... cellos and violins; string arrangements basically, with haunting choral in the background, or just a string arrangement on its own--that will make me emotional, and it would probably have to be how the song affects me inside. When I meet someone like that, that's incredible. Just this morning... I had this interview with a friend I've known for 9 years. We went out into the car and as soon as I got in and went to strap in my belt, I froze, and I just stared. Think of frost coating the bare branches ... soft patches of white crumbling away gradually as the morning warms. The sight; I was speechless. I'm a sucker for scenery... *ahem*

Uh, enough of that rambling, I'm sure you understand what I'm trying to say... :/

At first, I was iffy about FMA. I thought it was childish, seriously. I'm not one for romance animes; I'll leave that to the movies. Sure, Escaflowne had the heavily implied, ahem, romance going on; almost every anime does. Sure FMA has it's little... "implications"; 'Elricest' being one of them, oh man, I could write one of those ANYDAY... Winry/Ed... Roy/Riza (dead-give-a-way), just the emotion you see... and ... some of the action. Ed seems to blush a lot later on in the series when it comes to Winry and all that.. *sighs dreamily*

I wish we had Cartoon Network again. I miss the good old days of anime on AdultSwim and all that. And, honestly, I can't entirely say what it was that drew me in. Maybe it was Episode 7; the emotion Ed showed after the whole Nina against the wall.. *coughcough*, that was one of the episodes that got to me and I broke down at the end. After that, I HAD to watch more. An addiction, but a sweet one; tragic and bittersweet... *sighs and goes to watch the ending again and again with clumps of tissue in her hands*

Monday evening; a woman I see on the bus from time to time came on when the bus stopped at the mall... she got on, paid her fare, glanced at me, then took her seat, shopping bags in hand. I watched the back of her head, oblivious to everyone else around me as I had my earphones in from my MP3 player. The first thought that came to mind; "I wonder if she's married." and then followed by "Does she have any kids?" "What are her mornings like?" "Does she have financial problems?" I remember, while my friend was driving me home, when I glanced over to a guy in a truck, and he had the most gorgeous facial structure... square jaw and it was just; ooh, I wanted to lick him. He appeared ... early thirties, and this has to be the Nora Roberts in me speaking, but when I looked over at him, I wondered what kind of man he was, and if he was the type you read about in a romance novel.

"I bet the best writers out there, hellfire, the best *artists* would agree with us, Leia, that they sit and watch others for hours and just this simple observation is enough to stir their heart, is enough to open doors and set pen to paper, is enough to inspire and transform."

Exactly what I tend to do, but then I try not to stare too long, or to have them catch me.

When I first Hurt ... well, actually... My brother came on MSN, said I should listen to this, that it was an awesome song and that the music video was quite good, too, and I groaned. I literally groaned. I thought, Johnny Cash? You so have to be shittin' me. What the HELL is he listening to this for? So then I agreed, and he sent it. It sat in my Received Files folder for a good day or so; until I was making my winamp list. Went through all my music folders, imported the music onto a list, generated it, saved it, then went through the new songs I had, and listened to them. Hurt came on, I frowned, but listened to it. Didn't seem quite interested, until the third time listening to it with my earphones in. It always goes that way for me whenever I write; I always have my earphones in and it's late at night, normally between 3-5am when I'm hit with inspiration depending on the song.

But it sounded ... amazing. His voice was just so melancholy, I don't know, I can't explain it fully. There was just something about his voice that ... struck that 'music' cord inside me. Now, before I had switched to my music, I had been watching FMA with my sister downstairs on the DVD player. Roy's episode had come on; the blood on the floor, the stool toppled over, the dead couple, and finally the trembling, hesitant man behind the orders. I watched, I teared up, I sniffled. Even got weird looks from my sister, while the whole time she's going "aww...." and on the verge of bawling herself. Tsk. Tsk. Afterwards I got ALL the episodes of Mellie, and I was suddenly struck with five simple lines that spoke so much.

"Dark crimson stained the floorboards."

From then on, it went.

And the song remained on Repeat Track the whole time I was typing out the story that was writing itself out in my head; think of the Star Wars opening story scrolls. That's how my mind works.

*weak smile* Rambles.

Geez o' Pete's. What were you saying about meeting people through random circumstances and finding that you have way too much in common? 'Cause let me tell you and Mellie that I was born obsessed with Disney. I actually got an art degree to focus on drawing because I wanted to be a Disney animator. My focus shifted to design, but when I moved down here to Orlando I interviewed (I squeed for about three days straight) with both their animation and design departments. Got a couple of free-lance jobs for the design department but the animation department was wiped out about three months into my Florida residency. When I read that info in the paper I felt like a part of my childhood had died. I knew they weren't turning out super-successful animated films like they did in the early '90's, but still, Disney could never *get rid of* their animators!!! But sadly they did. Now that I have digital cable (bless you, cable gods!!!) I get the Toon Disney station that plays the movies. I mean, holy crap, my absolute FAVORITE one, Dumbo was shown about five times in a row!!!!! But really, I don't know of many Disney films I don't like, the animated ones I mean. I've never seen "The Black Cauldron" and I really have no desire to see "Lilo and Stitch" but every other one, esp. "Tarzan" I adore. Don't know why I'm obsessed with "Tarzan". Must be the shirtless, loin-cloth thing. Kinda weird since he's two-dimensional, but what guy isn't?

Do you, or Mellie (please feel free to pop in, girl!) remember any of the '40's cartoon collections Disney used to make, like with the little tug boat or those two hats that were in love? My favorite random Disney cartoon was called "Ben & Me" and was about this little mouse and Ben Franklin. Remember that? No? Humor me? Thanks!

I think I just love animation in general. I remember being really little, I think five-years-old and walking in on my older brothers watching "Warriors of the Wind" on HBO. "WofW" is a severely-edited version of Miyasaki's amazing "Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind" (which, BTW, just came out on DVD yesterday!!!! GOD LOVES ME!!!!) and is my favorite movie of all time. Even as a five-year-old walking in on the most violent part of the movie, I was spellbound. Seen any of his other movies? They're easy to get now, and man do I love his stuff.

Complete shift in subject, the violin thing got me. That's my favorite instrument, too. I love any and all music that features strings - they're so somber and needy - whether it be classical or some type of electronic, ambient new age crap. Ever heard of J Ralph's "A Million Miles Away"? That type of music...man is it beautiful. And ever heard of the band Bond? Look for their stuff, if you haven't already. A new spin of a classical string quartet. Amazing.

Okay, I want to write more in response to this but I'm fading fast (as in, I've found myself snoring lightly between paragraphs). I'm loving this random conversation. Who knew moving drawings could bring people together? How sweet!

Oh, great, now I'm watching Wolf's Rain on Adult Swim and I'm gonna cry! Don't cry old man! You're gonna make me...*wails*. Okay, I need to go to bed. Talk to you soon.

Oh, God. The collection I used to have of Disney was just bloody insane. We had almost EVERY movie on VHS back in teh day. From Snow White to Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, all three Aladdin's, Dumbo, The Fox and the Hound, the two The Rescuers movies; it was just crazy. Little Mermaid, Tarzan, Lilo & Stitch, Beauty and The Beast (EVERY girl will fall for that movie, and hell if you don't; may you rot in hell and your soul freeze within the Nine Hidden Planes above Heaven). *nodnod* I adored Tarzan SOOO much, I got my dad to buy me the OST. *pets it* And this is where equivalent trade comes in... Mellie sending me all her FMA, and me .rarring up my Tarzan OST and sending it to her along with many other things; not like I'll name em all.

Animated:
Beauty and The Beast, Little Mermaid, Lilo & Stitch, Tarzan, Emperor's New Groove, Aladdin, Cinderella, Mulan, Hercules, Alice in Wonderland, Atlantis: The Lost Empire, Castle in The Sky, Spirited Away, Princess Mononoke, BOTH Goofy Movies (Sad, aren't I?), Finding Nemo, Hunchback of Notre Dame (amazing), The Incredibles, Lady and The Tramp, Lion King, Monsters Inc., Nightmare Before Christmas, Peter Pan, Pocahontas, Robin Hood, The Sword in The Stone, Toy Story I & II, Winnie the Pooh (just anything, Tigger pwns);

Non-Animated:
Tuck Everlasting, (both oldskool and newskool ) Freaky Friday, Hocus Pocus, Homeward Bound I, Mary Poppins (DEFINITELY >_<), Parent Trap (oldskool ALL the way), Pirates of the Carribean, Princess Diaries I & II;

TV Series:
Gargoyles, Ducktales, Goof Troop, Darkwing Duck, Mummies Alive :o!!, Recess.

Those are ALL the Disney things I used to watch. Gargoyles was just, gnnnngh! oaueghoaehgtau! I loved that series to death, along with Mummies Alive. -_-

And I remember the little tug boat, but not the two hats that were in love. :o I used to love oldskool Mickey Mouse... hehehe, and Pete was just a cruel wanker. I REALLY want to see Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind. When I saw Castle in the Sky, I was literally blown away. Princess Mononoke was just, wow, the same with Spirited Away. He makes such amazing movies, it's just... hell, I've used up all the words--FANTASTIC. There we go. *nodnod* I'm even having trouble finding this one movie; it's anime, naturally ... and it's amazing; the story had me riveted to my television. It had the word Millenium in it; Millenium something... it was about an actress... damnit... -_-

....Millenium Actress; there we go. !!! They were the ones who made Perfect Blue, and that anime, holy HELL. God bless such twisted anime.. *worships the ground the directors/writers and the whole chilati walk upon*

Another complete shift in the subject, and that's all right. Cellos and violins are my favorite instruments; I adore the cello particularly for the angst tone it gives off--at least to me, anyways... :/ I remember the first time I held it, and writers do NOT take this the uh... wrong way, kk; between my legs, fingers poised above the strings. I took the stick thingermajig and, delicately, I stroked. The sound was absolute, pure beauty. I love Band. But I soooo recommend Apocalyptica.

Here's a song-recommend list by them:
Pray!
Hope
Enter Sandman
Fade to Black
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Nothing Else Matters

Four cellos. They are amazing; I get shivers listening to them, while the family looks at me strangely ... which is nothing new. *huggles*

Moving drawings is what makes the world go round. Stories, whether it be fanfiction or not, are what makes the world go WH00T! They are what bring people together.

And, oh dear. I really must be making up for the time I'll loose starting monday with the new job... just look at that entry, *whistle*.