Russia's greatest love machine (random_prophet) wrote in fm_alchemist,
Russia's greatest love machine
random_prophet
fm_alchemist

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Sparkles of Passion

Buy me a ticket to Hell-Con, will you?

Rating: PG for vague references to prostitution
Parings: Armstrong/OC. WILL TRUE LOVE PREVAIL? (Of course not!)
Genre: Romance/Humor/Parody
Admirala Edwina Pheonix was no normal girl, oh no. She had long, green hair with blue tips(all natural!), sparkling sapphire eyes, unblemished white skin, curves in all the right places, and amazing alchemical powers! When she was a young girl, her family was ravaged by an unnamed ethnic minority that the author demonized for a plot point. Then, her only options to support herself were either to become a State Alchemist[1] or a Seamstress.[2] Due to her amazing alchemical prowess, she became the youngest State Alchemist since Edward Elric at the age of nine. Wherever she went, a trail of fanboys and pink sparkles followed.
_
[1] The average age of which seemed to be decreasing over the past five years. Many alchemists attributed it to something in the water.

[2] A very popular job in Central. In fact, most lonely young bachelors went to get their socks darned, and went back several times a week.
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But none of her suitors impressed her. They were lacking a certain charm, if you will. What Admirala wanted was someone like her. Someone with perfect skin. Someone with well groomed hair and a perfect moustache. Someone who sparkled like the stars dotting a moonless night sky.

Then, one day, her true love was found.

She was walking down the hall of Central Headquarters, her long hair billowing out behind her like the waves of the ocean. Her red outfit was so skintight and revealing that one would believe she had chosen the path of a, er, Seamstress Due to the sparkles clouding her vision, she did not notice the tall figure of a man until they collided.

“Ah, forgive me, young lady!”

It was like the voice of an angel. Admirala raised her sapphire orbs* up to the tall man’s eyes and gasped.

He was about seven feet tall, and almost completely bald save one curly bang and a huge moustache that obscured his mouth. He was middle aged, yes, but true love knows no age. In her trance, Admirala dropped her papers.

“Excuse me, sir, but may I ask your name?” she said breathlessly.

“I am Major Alex Louis Armstrong, the Strong Arm Alchemist!”

Her hero threw the top of his uniform off and started to pose, his sculpted body gleaming in the sunlight. And what a body it was. Admirala guessed that he must have a twenty-pac.

But the one thing that caught her attention and told her that the two of them were destined lovers was the pink sparkles surrounding the major. He could have been a beacon in the thickest fog. It was then that she knew that at last she had found her true love.

“You must be an angel sent from the very heavens,” said the beautiful young girl. Armstrong was jerked out of his routine. He certainly hadn’t been expecting this.

“What do you mean, young miss?”

“I mean,” said Admirala with a meaningful pause, “that you are the one to save me from this meaningless existence.” She drew uncomfortably close to the major. “I am madly in love with you.”

Armstrong was hopelessly confused and disturbed. This revealingly-dressed girl who had to be at most thirty years younger than him had given him one look and decided she was his true love. Things like that just didn’t happen.

“Come with me,” continued the girl in a rather… excited tone, “so that the sparkles of our love may fuse and merge!”

Armstrong was speechless. Then, he came to a conclusion.

Had young Edward Elric not mentioned a Homunculus that could change forms before his disappearance? Yes! This girl was an illusion set to draw him into a trap! She’d thought she could fool the Strong Arm Alchemist, but the cleverness of the Armstrong family was renowned world over!

“Ha! You may have fooled a younger man, but not today! Now be gone, foul Homunculus, before I must use force!”

Admirala gaped. How could her true love betray her like this?

“I… I bet you’re gay!” snarled the girl as she ran off, tears streaming down her face. Armstrong smiled grimly behind his moustache.

Armstrong 1, Mary Sues 0.

*It physically hurt to type that. Ow.
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