#avadite

[yinseal]

the house is in a state of utter chaos; toys and clothes seem strewn upon most surfaces, while a line-up of food forms along the countertop - sandwiches and charcuterie boards, carefully curated for the day's honorees.

from the other room, ava and tim are arguing about whether frogs or toads are better. greed keeps his ears pricked in case the small quarrel turns into double tantrums, all while continuing to carefully cut the mangoes, strawberries and pineapples for their celebratory mother's day lunch.

he hears the patter of tiny feet, but they're quiet, so greed unwisely assumes that all is well.

"mama!" ava says, her voice pitched high with excitement. "we got you a present." she beams, a shoebox clasped between her hands. tim stands behind her, rocking on his heels, a tiny grin on his lips.

"we couldn't decide which one, so we got you ..." ava flings the box open with a flourish, and tim shrieks with delight as a frog throws itself from its cardboard prison and beside sakura on the couch.

more rustling from the box indicates the presence of the toad tim had so readily vouched for. already halfway into the living room to save sakura from their children's new, slimy friends, greed reminds himself to take izumi up on her offer to host mother's day next year.

/ @avadite

it's hard to be surprised anymore or at least, that's what she says when she's on the quick to anticipate the latest bout of mischief / the chaos and cacophony that seems to follow her children wherever they go. she's gotten placid, greedy in the illusion of her success; since she can't see the fires, she naively assumes she's stopped them all from coming. ( hasn't she learned better by now? )

greed makes more of an effort into mother's day than most men put into their entire marriages seems to take special delight in surprising her, as if that's not half the reason she fell in love with him. sakura herself had been shooed out of the kitchen, and there were fresh flowers in a vase on the table, and her sweet, beautiful, nefarious children were arguing the finer points of amphibian life styles, complete with a shoebox that was being held with care ( that should have been her first clue. )

she'd been reading through winry's letter, smiling at the news of ed's newest published paper, when she got her comeuppance. ava had sounded so gleeful, so absolutely delighted, and tim had appeared so angelic, and she'd been lured into a false sense of calm / of confidence. fool! her stubborn will and greed's defiant nature ( alongside his propensity to launch himself off giant buildings to make an entrance ): what sort of mixture could anyone expect from that but pandemonium?

the frog leaps; one graceful arch into the air, and a firm plop on the spot next to her, a reproachful croak for the inconvenience of captivity. she barely has time to squawk in surprise before a far larger addition joins her: a massive toad, less inclined to grace and more of the attitude of getting the hell out of there. muddy water drips from both creatures onto the couch, and her own leg kicks out in unexpected shock as the toad leaps back towards her, missing her chest by an inch. the tea on the table she ( painfully ) kicks sloshes out past the rim as the two creatures take off, and both ava and tim are yelling whether in encouragement for the havoc, or dismay that their hopeful new additions aren't cooperating, she isn't sure. ignoring the sizable bruise growing on her shin, sakura dives for the frog; nightmares of tadpoles in the creamer give her a least some semblance of a grip, and she stuffs the poor creature unceremoniously back into the shoebox, at the exact moment greed bursts into the room.

the toad has settled, furiously, on the top shelf of the bookcase; ava has scaled halfway up the side, her pigtails in disarray as she goes. tim has attempted to hastily mop up the spilt tea with his shirt, of which he was still wearing; the frog, his freedom denied once more, bellows inside his prison. it has taken, sakura notes, thirty seconds exactly, for calm to turn into a small siege.

slowly, she rises to her feet / hands clutched tight around the shoebox. the room quiets, as if in breathless anticipation for her next few words. the toad, belligerent, croaks.

❝ these are such lovely gifts, ❞ she begins ( ava, still halfway up the bookcase, beams. ) ❝ and i couldn't possibly deserve something so sweet. maybe next year, my darlings ... just a card? ❞

[farginen]

⭐ @avadite liked for a starter.

“ you look so different from líng yào... i don't know why i thought there would be any similarities, but i guess it makes sense there aren't. ”

[pcsitivibee]

positivity for avadite : @avadite / sky is the REAL greed the avaricious. everything they write is in character and deepens the lore better than canon ever could. they're a sweetheart, and truly the greatest writer in the fma community, hands down.

[dolcetters]

@avadite​​ asked: [  play  ]  muses  play  a  board  game  /  card  game  together 

nonverbal  meme  prompts || [ no longer accepting! ] [  play  ]   muses play a board game  / card game together

▐│∶x∶; —                                 it’s been five minutes. which doesn’t sound long--and it isn’t, not in the grand scheme of things--but, boy, is it a long time in a game of jenga.

dolcetto exhales, the breath hissing over his hand as he leans a forearm over one knee and stares hard across the coffee table. greed’s hand keeps hovering close to a few center blocks, only to pull away moments before he touches ones.

             ❛ ...continue movin’ at a snail’s pace, boss, ❜

dol mutters into his palm.

             ❛ you know how that thrills me. ❜

greed looks up at him, scowling. “shut up, dol. you haven’t made this easy on me.”

             ❛ y’told me not to hold back. ❜

“yeah, well, that was before i remembered you guys used to play this shitty game down in the storage space every other night.”

it’s a bittersweet remark. despite the tinge of pain it stirs up in his chest, dol fondly remembers vi and gills returning from the underground with several rocks and loose bricks they’d collected. a bit of tumbling, smoothing, and they’d homebrewed their own set of blocks. they were pretty wonky--uneven--and sometimes misshapen enough that pulling the wrong one at the wrong time collapsed the tower when it shouldn’t have. but that just made it all the more tricky and fun, and provided all the more bragging rights when you did win or pull off a clever move. 

blondie had been surprisingly shrewd when it came to his moves. they were all perfectly within the established ‘rule book’, but just outside the box enough to take everyone by surprise. the hand is quicker than the eye, as the saying went.

greed’s brows furrow as he pokes the tips of his pointer fingers together right in front of his nose. there’s a plan forming. and dol knows it’s clicked by the sudden gleam in the man’s eyes, and that tell-tale way his mouth curves into a grin. greed reaches around to the opposite side of the tower and, so carefully, pulls loose a block. the tower sways a bit, but it doesn’t tumble. 

“HA!” greed laughs, and he places the block on the top. “your turn, hot shot.”

dolcetto blinks. and he reaches to the other side of the table where they’d set their dinner plates aside. he takes the knife from the cluster of silverware and places it flat about a foot adjacent to the tower. slides it back with his fingertips.

and in one sharp, swift motion, sweeps it across the table to collide with the single block at the bottom of the tower. the block flies across the room, and the tower drops. so sudden and blunt enough that it only wobbles a bit and settles into place.

the stunned look on greed’s face was priceless. dol imagines there must be some irony or a joke to be made on that somewhere, but he can’t think of it. not right now.

for a few seconds the only sound in the room is the clatter of the removed block bouncing across the floor, before it’s abruptly ended by an eruption of furious exclamations and loud laughter.

[yinseal-arc]

“why would you ask me that, honey?”        /  @avadite​ & prompt.

her shoulders hunch       annoyance  rising  at the smirking  /  smug-faced sentiment,  the way he  drawls  the word like a caress.  lounging back against his chair,  feet kicked up atop his desk:  he’s the picture of  confidence  and sensuality,  confident  arrogance  and serene immaturity.  shutting the door behind her,  she catches the way his eyebrow  arches;  the smirk becomes a shark-toothed  grin,  certain he’s about to get a meal worth devouring.   (  it’s just business,  after all:  two people,  with a need,  and nothing more.  and it won’t be happening again!  )

        ❝   asking you if you have plans is  not  out of the ordinary.   ❞   hands clasped  demurely  behind her back,  she’s the picture of innocence   (  but for the slight arch to her chest;  she needs to  stretch,  obviously.  )     ❝  if i need to look in on the chimeras,  it’ll be easier to tell you how they are if you’re around.   ❞   a lie       she’s had no problems writing a note in the past  /  checking in on her half-human charges during  daylight  hours.  a lie,  and she  knows  he’ll catch her out:  knows  he  knows her better,  knows that her visits are becoming longer,  becoming more  frequent.  looks him in the eye,  and  lies  to him,  and means:  can you make some time for me again.

        ❝  i’ll let you get back to  ...   ❞   a vague hand-gesture,  her own eyebrow arching in response   (  they’re not themselves if they’re not  bickering,  even with a sense of  vulnerability  on the line.  )      ❝  your  ...  work.  ❞    half a moment,  to feel  unresolved:  the dress that skims a bit too high,  the look she shoots that’s not quite so keen on  departure.   all the same,  she reaches for the door,  determined not to let greed see her  falter.     ❝  and  don’t  call me honey.   ❞

[deathleadsarc]

Five Word Prompts | Accepting

From @avadite​  sent: // “fuck’s sake, what’s your problem?”

       “ Problem...? ”

From the start, he didn’t seem like his other siblings. Was that because he was built from a humans’ body? Did some of that humanity still fester within him, to cause this reaction at her work? Yes, now that you look around it is obviously not the kind of sight you would want anyone else to be looking at. Gruesome and unkind. The others were always so imperturbable or even giddy at it all - not him. 

How very curious. 

     “ Hmm. You don’t delight in the same sorts of things as your siblings, do you? No ... you’ve been making the same face since you got in here. ”

[wyrdify]

@avadite: what items can be found in your muse’s pockets? ; verbal or non - verbal communication. ; something your muse could never forgive. (for roy!)

Character Headcanons | Currently accepting. 

what items can be found in your muse’s pockets?

His State Alchemist pocket watch

His wallet. How much money he carries with him varies week by week, but he usually doesn’t have much on him.

At least one spare pair of his gloves.

One or two small notebooks. He carries his alchemy journal wherever he goes, and tries to keep another one for notes.

A pen or two.

His checkbook (only if he’s not carrying much on him, or otherwise knows he’ll need it).

This is provided he’s wearing his coat. If he’s not, he’ll limit what he carries to his pocket watch, wallet, and gloves.

verbal or non - verbal communication.

It depends on who he’s communicating with. With Hawkeye, and just about everyone on his team, he goes for nonverbal communication. He’ll rely on using his eyes to indicate something, or subtle body language. If he doesn’t know a person well, or knows they need to hear or see him speak, he opts for verbally communicating with them.

something your muse could never forgive.

It may come as a surprise, but Roy is incredibly forgiving. He may take a while to get to that point, but he almost always forgives everyone. Change takes time, and he knows it can be a slow process. The only person that doesn’t tend to apply to is himself.

Hurting someone he cares about? “It’s not my place to forgive you. Do it again, though, and you’ll have to deal with me.” Hurting him? Depends on the reason, and if he thinks it’s justified--he knows when he’s earned it. In both cases, he’ll hold a bit of a grudge, but, eventually, he’ll move past it--with the former, he bases his reaction on the person actually hurt.

Killing someone he cares about? That’s where he draws the line. He won’t forgive for that. Try to kill him all you want. He may forgive you for that depending on your reasoning. But, those he cares about? He won’t forgive, and he’ll come after you himself.

[caimsong]

@avadite​

♪♫ ░ : ❦ ; —                    how the sorrow flows... she can feel it in the air as he passes, cold as a mountain river. there're bags beneath those eyes and blood long washed from his hands; strain in places he'd never known ( or maybe had known, once in another life ).

though his grief is not alone on the air this afternoon, she can feel it's raw. something painful and pushed away--desperate to forget again, yet guilty for even desiring such release. they claim themselves more complicated than humans... perhaps, in some ways. to house so many souls yet refuse their sadness and pain. what a burden.

she approaches as most would--silent, drifting to fall into step at his side.

            ❛ your tattoo, ❜

her voice is soft, to lessen the startle. and she gestures to his hand.

            ❛ it's quite beautiful. ❜

[reigningsniper-a]

@avadite said:🌻| send the flower for me to talk about anything i heckin’ want, y’all!

      riza has chronic insomnia since returning from ishval as one of her major symptoms of ptsd. it often takes her a long time to fall asleep, and she is usually only able to sleep steadily for 2-3 hours before awakening and having to try to fall back asleep and hopefully get another 3 hours in. usual disruptions are due to her being a light sleeper and ready to spring awake at a moment’s notice, but also abstract nightmares revolving around the horrors of war.

      she tries her best to find tangible methods to decrease the symptoms, but due to her level of ptsd they are not cures. she makes sure she gets regular exercise, keeping a consistent schedule (as much as she can for an occupation that often requires late nights and consecutive early mornings), avoiding relying on alcohol, and keeping hayate at her side.

      she would argue hayate being a part of her life...substantially eased the symptoms more than any of the others have. they’ve made a difference, but there is no way to completely cure them.

      not only is he adorable and a loyal heckin’ boy, but for those nights where she feels alone and is spiraling after a particularly jarring nightmare, he is quick to ease her fears and bring her back down to earth. when she experiences her nightmares, she often awakens disoriented and scared. just hearing his whine or feeling his fur as he presses against her hand is enough to ground her despite it all.

[the-owlchemist]

★ |  @avadite​ - continued from here

【 ☆ 】Life  had  not  been  kind  to  Noctus  since  his  days  in  Dublith. Spared  the  slaughter  of  the  raid,  he’d  escaped  into  solitude  in  order  to  survive.  Having  found  a  decrepit  house  beyond  the  fringes  of  the  town  in  a  twist  of  fate.  It  had  needed  some  serious  work  be  serviceable,  but  the  alchemist  made  do.  What  he  couldn’t  fix  with  his hands  he  fixed  with alchemy.   What  he  couldn’t  fix  with  alchemy...  well,  he  hoped  it  wasn’t  too  important.

                 But  fixing  a  leaking  roof  and  a  busted  door  didn’t  provide  anything  in  the  way  of  food.  Something  which  had  forced  Noctus  to  return  to  town,  risking  rumours,  as  he  stole  what  he  needed.  Noctus  was  smart  though.  He  took  more  than  just  mere  supplies,  securing  himself  a  means  to  live  self-sustained  on  his  own.  It  surprised  him  how  much  he’d  actually  remembered  of  the  scraps  of  knowledge  Dolcetto  had  dropped  about  life  on  the  farm.  Little  things,  about  the  texture  and  colour  of  the  soil  that  had  helped  the  vines  of  the  tomato  plant  out  back  to  grow  as  large  as  it  had.

                 Noctus  had  felt  the  presence  sooner  than  it  had  stepped  onto  the  slanted  porch.  It  had  him  hurry  to  the  door,  chalk  ready,  as  he  drew  an  array  on  the  wall  just  adjacent. Not  that  he’d  figured  impaling  one  of  their  kind  would  do  much  good,  though  it  would  buy  him  a  few  precious  seconds  to  try  and escape  when  the  time came.  He’d  not  meant  to  call  out  through  the  door  at  all,  but  he’d  been  startled.

                 Brows  shot  upright  at  the  sound  of  his  name on  the  other  side  of  the  door.  The  voice  wasn’t  familiar  despite  sounding  as  surprised  as  he  was.  Greed?  Was  it  really?  It’s  tone  hadn’t  been  quite  right,  though  the  manner  of  speech  sounded  on  the  money.  Yet  even  the  iconic  presence  he’d  since  grown  used  to  felt  somewhat  different.  The  whole  thing  echoing  a  similar  sentiment;  familiar,  yet  not. 

                  Noctus  swallowed,  pulse  racing. ❝ How  did  I  have  my  drink  at  the  bar? ❞ It’s  a  trick  question,  one  Noctus  knew  that  not  even  some  of  the  old  gang  would  know.  Only  Greed  and  Dolcetto  had  been  able  to  nudge  Noctus  upstairs  to  the  bar  for  anything  more  than  chores  and  errands.

[yinseal]

he hears the clock in the haruno's hallway let out a loud tick, far louder than the seconds he's been counting. midnight.

"sakura," he hisses in the near-dark. he peers over at her, watching her nose crinkle under the pale light of the tv. she fell asleep ages ago, leaving him to stare at her ceiling and hope her parents didn't assume his continued presence in her room was nefarious.

"saaaakura," he says a little louder this time, prodding her in the side. "wake up." she stirs, grumbling something incoherent. he lets out a huff, pokes her again.

"you're officially 16," he murmurs. "and already acting too old to stay up past midnight?" he sets his chin on her shoulder. "happy birthday, sleepyhead."

this  is  the  warmest  she’s  ever  been  /  the  most  comfortable;  to  move  would  be  a  sin,  a  crime  against  nature  as  she  settles  in  deeper  to  contentment.  the  gentle  hum  of  the  television  set  has  faded  into  background  noise  ages  ago;  artificial  lighting  has  long  dimmed  into  faint  whorls  of  colour,  arrested  behind  her  eyes.  this  was  luxury,  she  would  think,  if  only  she  had  been  awake  to  enjoy  it;  this  was  how  every  birthday  ought  to  be  spent  /  warm,  and  comfortable,  and  safe.

she  is  pulled  out  of  it,  not  so  much  in  a  hurry  /  but  with  obvious  desire:  someone  eager  to  impart  something  for  her  benefit,  unrushed  and  pleased.  the  mist  lifts  slowly,  sound  and  colour  coming  back  in  measured  seconds  /  bit  by  bit.  a  low  hmmm  reverberates  in  her  chest  /  contented  kitten,  too  happy  to  resent  being  disturbed  from  her  slumber.  her  eyes  don’t  open,  but  she  knows  where  she  is,  who  she’s  with.  tradition  and  familiarity  and  more  the  reason  for  her  comfort  than  anything  else.

          ❝  s’my  birthday,  ❞      she  mumbles,  rubbing  her  face  into  the  mix  of  freshly  laundered  sheets  /  greed’s  t-shirt.  the  impact  of  it  will  hit  later,  of  course,  but  for  now  she  is  content  with  the  warmth  of  it;  she  wants  to  wrap  herself  in  the  scent  of  lavender  and  soap,  a  hint  of  boy  that  never  reeks  as  offensively  as  so  many  others  do.  

in  the  morning,  her  mother  will  make  french  toast  with  fresh  cut  strawberries  /  drizzles  of  honey  to  begin  her  new  year.  there’ll  be  fruits  cut  in  the  shape  of  animals  in  her  lunch,  shared  as  always  with  greed   (  he  will  leave  her  the  kittens,  a  birthday  concession.  )   there’ll  be  cards  in  her  desk  and  pressed  into  her  locker,  friends  celebrating  the  occasion  with  genuine  pleasure;  the  only  card  she’ll  keep  is  greed’s,  tucked  as  always  into  the  box  below  her  bed,  housing  all  the  others.  

for  now,  she  wraps  her  arms  around  greed’s  torso  and  falls  easily  back  to  sleep;  the  warmth  tugs  her  down  into  good  dreams  that  she’ll  wake  smiling  from.  a  better  start  couldn’t  possibly  be  asked  for.

[ichoreyed]

Also I like that there’s this trend within my rp partners who write homunculi that they’re both really tough badasses and then a woman is like *exists* and they can’t do anything else

[farginen]

“ it's not that, it's just ⸺ different. ”     the lieutenant offers, though not much of an explanation. the likeness, or lack thereof, isn't reduced to or solely tied to the physical traits of the shared body. the expression and voice, the body language as a whole... it is simply different to the prince's. then again, riza only met the young prince briefly, so she could be wrong.

“ i'm on supervising duty as per führer grumman's request. ”   she says truthfully.

other surviving homunculi such as selim bradley are under heavy surveillance, though she is unsure how much of it that is common knowledge for greed. her grandfather is mostly a stranger to her and there is a lot she does not understand about him, but this one thing is understandable. they could never be too careful with a homunculus.

this one, however, riza thinks is safe.  “ i won't waste your time, you know the usual questions. anything different or unusual we should make note of? ”

       ❝   and  here  i  thought  i  carried  the  princely  visage  just  fine,  ❞  he  says,  tone  dry.  he  shifts  in  his  seat,  uncomfortable  under  her  watchful  eye.    ❝  what  brings  you  here,  anyway?  don’t  tell  me,  you’re  stuck  surveying  me  for  any  threats? ❞

greed  raises  a  brow  at  riza,  incredulous.  maybe  he  should  think  himself  lucky,  if  the  military  selected  a  former  ally  to  determine  whether  or  not  he  was  a  threat  to  amestris.  like  he  can  ---  or  would  even  WANT  to!  ---  do  anything  dangerous  in  this  newly  vulnerable  body.  

        ❝  can  we  get  it  over  with,  then?  i  want  to  get  back  to  dublith. ❞

[zirable]

“ hey! eyes down here, geezer! ”

a morsel of a voice squalls from a morsel of a body, beckoning to the homunculus towering over them. so to better seize his attention, envy scurries about in lopsided circles.

fatigue settles in an embarrassingly short span of time, causing all eight of envy’s legs to deflate before fully giving out. they plummet to the ground in a pathetic heap. “ so, do you think you could help me up, or are you just gonna twiddle your thumbs all day? ”

@avadite .​

[dolcetters]

@avadite​ contin from {♠}

▐│∶x∶; —                            had any of the others been around, a few of them may have flinched at the clipped words--the edge in greed's voice. dol only releases an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he turns his attention out the booth's window. he wouldn't need an extra sense to pick up on the bullshit greed's knee deep in.

it'd been obvious from the beginning. some of the light would return to greed's eyes--his posture would visibly change--the moment sakura so much as crossed through the room. there'd be a shift in the air, almost tangible, and dol could feel his own heart pick up a little with all the energy buzzing about ( it was kind of annoying, actually... random hyper spikes... damned... dogs ).

dol sits back against the booth, folding his arms and raising his brows as he turned back to greed. he sees the waitress seconds before she disappears into the kitchen, and his frown deepens.

           ❛ well, she sure ain't gonna see you like that if           you're comin' home hammered as a bent nail           every goddamn night, ❜

he grumbles. he pauses, eyeing greed for a few silent seconds before huffing. something in his expression weakens a little.

            ❛ ... look. boss. ...you know i only stick my nose           in your business when it's lookin' like you're not           watching your own back. you ain't, uh. ...--built.           like before. you keep starin' down the end of a           bottle like this and it's gonna bite you real hard in           the ass. ‘n take it from someone who knows: 

          hospitals fuckin’ suck. ❜

[yinseal-arc]

it’s a bigger house than they’ve looked at previously         a sprawling set of rooms and hallways,  wide,  open windows  /  sunlight catching on every wall.  ava doesn’t even wait until for the car to  stop  before she throws open the door and darts across the lawn,  crowing  with delight at the twist of pretty vines along the entryway  /  the sun-kissed stone that spans across the doorway.    ❝  it’s  huge!   ❞   she shouts,  dancing on the spot,  and sakura  smiles  at the exuberance  /  gaze scanning across the property with an air of  appreciation.  there’s a pretty garden,  twisting around the front of the home;  flowers bloom in  bountiful  array at close intervals,  contrasting against the verdant lawn.  a pretty place       and,  more importantly,  room to  grow.

         ❝  wait for papa and i!  ❞   she calls  /  hand outstretched,  fingers brushing against greed’s hand as they step forward.  open house,  the realtor had said;  feel free to explore.   judging by the way ava  dances  on the spot,  inching closer to the door,  at least one of them  would  be.

        ❝  i think she likes it,  ❞  she remarks,  as ava  finally  tears through the door like an oncoming hurricane.    ❝  we might not be able to get her out of here after all.  what do you think?  ❞           / @avadite​