#gender envy also hitting again. stronger than ever.!

[thenobleprincex]

seeing photos of young david tennant and.... babygirl. please don't do this to me

[dokifluffs]

Playing With His Hands | Yamaguchi, Akaashi, Ushijima

Pairing: Yamaguchi X Reader (gender neutral), Akaashi X Reader (gender neutral), and Ushijima X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: soft 

Author’s Note: yamaguchi, my son. that’s it. 

Tendo, Tsukishima, Oikawa // Suga, Bokuto, Sakusa 

Yamaguchi: baby🥺 

The two of you sat side by side during lunch in a brightly lit stairwell, in your own little world

His voice echoed off the spacious walls, clearer and stronger compared to how meek his voice was when you first met him

His voice would tremble and the words stuttering out of his mouth whenever he tried to speak to you

But now it was like he was entirely different  

Your eyes were wide looking into his as you listened to him intently about how he was able to score multiple points with his float serve at the recent game

You absolutely adored it when Tadashi was able to talk about something he grew to love from a young age, slowly growing more and more as an athlete and growing more confidence

You felt amazed hearing it, imagining how it went in your head but you felt bad since you couldn’t make it to his games since you had responsibilities at home

His hair bounced a bit as he spoke and you could practically see the stars twinkling in his eyes as he spoke, the sun hitting him just right

You could see the features of his face to closely, seeing each freckle defined and perfect just the way he was

But you really did feel guilty for not being able to be there to cheer him on personally

So you took his hand in yours, his right hand that he served with

You wished him luck in the palm of his hand drawing the character representing it with your finger, drawing a line signifying strength down his index, luck down his middle, success with his ring, knowledge with his pinky, and confidence down his thumb

This was your support that you gave him since you couldn’t make it to the actual games

Your touch tickled his skin since it felt so feather like when you drew on his hand

He loved it when you did this

However, he also couldn’t help the sudden shyness that welled up inside of him, a pink blushing tinting his cheeks

No matter how much time he spent with you and no matter how long the two of you had been together, you were able to melt him down to a shy, blushing mess

He was weak when it came to you but you also made him his strongest alongside his team and your words of encouragement mixing with theirs

But maybe, just maybe, you were able to make space in your schedule to see him play and score even more points for his team

Akaashi: 

The cafe was somewhat busy, gradually filling up and getting busier we they went on

Akaashi and you planned to spend the day here to catch up in studies, spending time together while also studying for your majors

You were getting tired of studying in your and his room with your roommates always staying in and the library was where everyone went to

So the two of you went to this cafe that had been empty whenever the two of you went and it was open late

However, that was during the nighttime

You tried your best to focus, ignoring the people the best you could, listening on the calm, slow music, the deep sound of the cello that you tried your ground yourself too

But as people took the seats in the booth beside you, you hadn’t even realized your unsteady breaths

And that was when you felt his warmth by your side

Akaashi sat beside you and took your hand in his

He pulled you out of the fog in your mind and made a clearing. He turned his laptop so it faced the two of you and it acted as like a wall like he did

He was the space that separated you from the rest of everyone else in the ever growing crowded cafe  

He became the new thing that kept you grounded, his hand opening and closing to distract you from your surroundings as he rested it in your lap

You played with his fingers as he occasionally opened and closed his hand, his fingers long and thin, delicate and soft to the touch

You tapped the tips of his fingers, jumping back and forth from each one as if you were counting them repeatedly in your mind

He continued on his work, relieved he was able to be use to you

He for sure was going to look for a more secluded space for the two of you to relax and spend time together so you wouldn’t have to worry about people

Your focus was suddenly on his fingers, watching it in your lap as he opened and closed it in different ways

One way would all at once, another would be opening and closing it one at a time

It was so simple but it worked to pull yu from your thoughts and your breathing returned to normal

Ushijima: 

Snow slowly drifted from the dark clouds that concealed the moonlit, starry sky

The air outside was dry and bitter cold that burned whenever you inhaled

But fortunately you were inside beneath the plush covers of the bed, most of the heat you felt in bed coming from Wakatoshi’s body as he laid still

His slow deep breaths filled the quiet room, no sound coming from anywhere outside or inside, only from him as you laid beside him, wide awake

Your eyes watched the shadows of the snowflakes as they fell, the light illuminating from the old street lamp just outside, across the window

You reached your hand up into the dark room as if you could grab onto the shadows from the light on the ceiling, but all you could see was your own arm being illuminated by the golden light

The snow made everything feel so dampened and quiet, unlike in a rainstorm, you could hear it all. This was the opposite. Snow fell silently and made everything cold

You couldn’t bring yourself to fall asleep despite the heaviness you felt on your eyelids

Looking beside you, you somewhat envied how easy it was Wakatoshi to sleep

You noticed how still he laid, the only movements coming from his chest as he breathed

But unlike him, you didn’t spend a couple hours everyday exerting energy by playing a sport

His practices were getting longer, starting earlier, ending later as his team prepared for an upcoming game a little more than a week away

But as his team practiced longer, there was something different about this upcoming game

He tweaked his diet and workout regiments, determined to get stronger. He spent hours at the gym, coming home soaked with sweat only to shower, eat dinner, and then sleep for the night, this cycle repeating

You could see his body changing over weeks- his overall bigger but he was also a bit slimmer in the waist

Turning to your side in bed, you faced him

You knew he was a professional athlete. He knew how to take care of himself more than anyone and he know how to get strong

But you couldn’t help but hope he could treat himself more

As he slept soundly, you took his left hand that rested on the blanket beside him in yours, bringing it to you. Your heart still flushed with a warmness feeling the size difference of his hand to yours despite having held it so many times

“Don’t over work yourself, Toshi... you’ll get stronger. You’ve always been so strong, you’ll blow away any opponent you face. I’ll cheer you on,” you whispered into the quiet room, lightly pressing your lips to his left hand

“Thank you, Y/N.” His voice was low and strong, sounding through the silence, dripping with sleep

“You’re not asleep?” You asked, surprised

“I was, but I woke up a little when you held my hand and then I heard your sentiment. It was very sweet, thank you. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I can’t seem to fall asleep, but don’t worry about me. You should sleep, you have practice tomorrow,” you said, drawing a circle in the palm of his hand

“Mmhm, sleep well,” he spoke. Filling your touch on his hand, he opened his hand up, resting it beside his pillow

You slowly drew whimsical designs all along the palm of his hand, tracing small ovals and circles over the pads of his fingers

It wasn’t long until you heard his deep breaths once again, his chest slowly raising and falling like the snow outside. It slowly fell

Your touches grew lighter and lighter until you could feel yourself drifting. But before sleep could fully overcome you, you entangled his hand with yours, your lips pressed to his skin throughout the night until he had to pull away the next day

 ~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046  @mazey-chan  @sunboikyo00  @kara-grayson04​  @fortheloveofbakugo​ @tsumtsumsemi​ @osamuonigiri @sammy-i-am​ @1-800-wholesome​ @realityisoftendisapointing

[theworlda-blaze-blog]

Task - Blaze

THE BASICS:

Full Name: Blaze Hilson

Nicknames: None

Birthday: October 31st

Birth Place: London, England

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Occupation: Arithmancy Professor

INTERIOR:

Blood status: Pure Blood

House: Ex-Slytherin

Wand: 10 inches, walnut with dragon heartstring core

Boggart: His father

Patronus: Fox

Amortentia (added bc important 😉): Leather, musk, strong coffee

Pets: A Maine Coon cat named Charon

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Tarot Card: The Chariot

Goals / Desires: For the ministry to fall and for the Death Eaters to take control of the wizarding world. Eventually, to rid the world of muggles, muggleborns and blood traitors entirely.

PHYSICAL:

Height: 6ft 2

Weight: Not sure on exact weight but his is of average build, on the slightly more muscular side

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Dark brown

Clothing style: Extremely dapper, it’s rare to not see him in a suit or a shirt and tie. He generally wears a black cloak when travelling.

Left handed or Right handed: Right handed

Distinguishing Features: Well-kept facial hair

Tattoos or scars: A dark mark on his left forearm.

FAMILY:

parents: David Hilt (Deceased), Lisa Hilt (currently serving time in prison)

siblings: None

children: None

FAVORITE:

Book: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

Movie: None

Food: He’ll stick to a fire whiskey

Flower: Red hellebores

Season: Autumn

Animal: Foxes and Wolves

Memory: Blaze has few memories that make him ‘happy’. He has memories of torturing mudbloods that have made him feel fulfilled, or faded memories of sexual encounters, but none of those he would call his favourite.

THIS OR THAT:

Cats or Dogs: Cats

Mornings or Nights: Nights

War or Love: War

Smoke or Drink: Drink

coffee or tea? Coffee

writing or reading? Reading

THOUGHTS:

Dead coming back: Blaze would have to deal with his Father if the dead came back. He wouldn’t know whether to confront him or kill him all over again.

Enemies coming back: Blaze isn’t afraid of enemies. All his enemies are easily defeated, in his opinion.

Loved ones coming back: Blaze has no loved ones to return. He wouldn’t have an issue with this one.

Love At First Sight: Absolute bullshit. You cannot fall in love with someone the first day you know them, let alone the first time you look at them.

One True Love / Someone You Will Always Love: He finds this very hard to believe. He has never felt love, only lust, and doesn’t think this will change.

QUESTIONS:

What is their family history like? How does it affect them? How do they feel about their family? How does their family feel about them?

(GET READY FOR A FULL EXPOSITION DUMP)

Benjamin grew up as an only child. His Mother was a typical housewife, and his Father worked in the department of mysteries. For as long as he can remember, his Father would come home and drink. He would drink until he could hardly stand up. He would drink until his anger could no longer be contained. Often, Benji would watch as his Father got out of his favourite chair, and began to shout at his Mother. The shouting soon turned into hitting, the hitting into punching. His Mother would just take it. She always had new bruises. Benji would just hide away and watch.

Then, at the age of seven, Benji's Father hit him for the first time. There was no reason for it. All he had done was be born. A choice that wasn't even his own. But Benji didn't just take it. He fought back as best he could, but his Father only got stronger. Then, he reached for his wand. ‘Cruci-' His Father began to say, his wand pointed at little Benjamin. But he never finished his sentence. For when Benji looked up from his cowering stance, there stood his Mother. Wand drawn, standing over the dead body of her husband. A single tear rolling down her cheek. That was Benji's first experience of the killing curse.

After that, Benjamin's Mother couldn't deal with the guilt. She spent every day crying in her room, unable to look after her son. Years passed. Benji fended for himself as best he could. Meanwhile, his Mother went crazy. She would talk to herself, scream in her sleep, and hurt herself just like her husband hurt her. When he was 13, Benji's Mother realised that all she could do to protect her son, was to turn herself in. She was a criminal, a killer. So she did what she must do. Everyone in the Wizarding World learned of the case of Lisa and David Hilt. A wife that murdered her abusive husband. No one knew of the son that Lisa left behind. And no one ever would.

Benjamin changed his name, and moved away from his family home. From now on, he would be Blaze Hilson. No one would know his past.

Blaze feels pity for his Mother. She saved him from experiencing the cruciatus curse, and was brave to stand up to his Father. He’s glad his Father is dead. He hasn’t seen his Mother since he was 13, so he has no idea how she feels about him. She’s probably too crazy to even remember him.

who were their first love and do they feel the same now as they did then? As stated before, Blaze has never been in love. The first person Blaze had any kind of relationship was when he was 18, his first year at Hogwarts. He and a boy named Adam Wentworthy, also a Slytherin, slept together several times and Adam developed feelings for Blaze, asking him to be his boyfriend. Blaze declined as he couldn’t return those feelings. He broke Adam’s heart and did not speak to him for the rest of the time that they attended the school.

Do they believe that a person can redeem themselves from mistakes of the past? Some people cannot be redeemed. Mudbloods have attempted to infiltrate our pure world. Muggles were born to be slaughtered. And blood traitors, well, it’s obvious what they’ve done. Supporting people who should not exist in this world. No, some people make mistakes that cannot be forgiven.

What scares them? The abuse that he and his mother endured from his father. The image of his Father. It is a dark secret of his.

How do they feel about death? Have they been significantly affected by it? Blaze is glad that his Father is dead. He is also glad to be ridding the world of those who shouldn’t belong, like muggleborns. He has no fear of dying himself, he believes there should be death before dishonour.

What is one thing in their past they’re ashamed of? One thing they’re proud of? Blaze feels ashamed for never stepping in when his Mother got abused. He was only young, so there was hardly anything he could’ve done, but he always feels like the situation could have been different. He’s proud of the work he has done for the Dark Lord. The murders, the torture, you name it. He has no shame for doing those things.

Pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed and sloth. If your character was a seven deadly sin, what would they be and why? Blaze would be pride - he takes great pride in his appearance, and sees himself as better than others. He also takes great pride in being a Death Eater (and doing the dark lord’s bidding), though he unfortunately has to keep it secret to keep his job.

What is their goal? To rid the world of muggles, muggleborns and blood traitors entirely.

Do they believe Voldemort is back? They know he is!

PICK THREE:

Lyrics that describe your character best

“There’s blood in the water but it tastes so sweet.”

“I am a human being capable of doing terrible things.”

“My peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake.”

quotes that your character lives by

“I don't want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.”

“And though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable, I simply am not there.”

“Kiss me and you will see how important I am.”

fictional characters that your character can relate to

Patrick Bateman. Dorian Gray. The Joker.

people who have changed your character’s life immensely

His Mother, Lisa Hilt.

Clara Jones, the first person he ever murdered.

Lord Voldemort.

[vino-and-doggos]

Time Enough at Last, chapter 2

Read full text on AO3 and FFN

Chapter Length: 2624 words (story length: 4631)

Rated: T

Status: Incomplete (2/3)

Summary: Submitted for your approval: one wants money, women, status, fame, and everything else in the world. The other just wants more time alive, to see his daughter grow, to love his wife for a little longer. Two seemingly different personalities must learn to coexist so that they both can have it all.

Beta-ed by @flourchildwrites, who deserves Starbucks, cookies, and a bunch of other goodies.

Only one more chapter after this!

Maes faded into consciousness again. It was difficult to tell exactly how much time had passed in the cold stone cell that he was locked up in, especially since consistent waking hours seemed to elude him. He could have been here a few days or a few weeks. Time was abstract, an important concept when one was floating in the ether between life and death. At least there was always fresh water waiting for him every time he woke up.

The wounds in his shoulder stopped bleeding freely three or four wake-ups ago. The bullet hole right below his collarbone still oozed gently, especially when Hughes prodded at it, attempting to ascertain the damage. The puncture wound closer to his shoulder didn’t have any discharge at all, now. Mostly, though, he hurt like a son of a bitch. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to exist; there was absolutely no way to sit, stand, or lay comfortably.

He wished with all of his being that the family photo that he carried in his inner breast pocket hadn’t been left behind in the phone booth. It would give him endless comfort seeing the face of his beautiful Gracia and his darling, smiling Elicia. He would give anything to hug them one more time, or even to see their faces in the grainy photograph he always carried.

The photo had to be left behind though. He could only hope that Roy was putting the pieces together; he hoped he left enough clues.

Without a body, there was no guarantee that the phone call Maes tried to place wouldn’t just be written off, blood be damned. A phone call that may or may not have been heard, and some blood could be nothing more than a simple prank. Someone who managed to get his personal code, pretending to be him. It could happen. But the photo was solid evidence.

His thoughts became stronger, the strongest they’d been since his capture. Hughes contemplated the obvious shape-shifter who wielded the gun. He would bet any money that they had an ouroboros tattoo somewhere on them. Especially since he met the shape-shifter almost immediately after the voluptuous woman with the sharp, extending fingernails. It seemed too convenient.

Above all else, it seemed quite obvious that this group, the ones with the ouroboros tattoos, also knew the damning history of Amestris. The way that the dots connect.

Maes was yanked from his thoughts when he heard footsteps echoing towards him. The shape-shifter of indeterminate gender materialized from the darkness in front of him. Their greenish-black hair swayed as the creature walked, reminding a slightly delirious Hughes of a palm tree swaying in the breeze. Their lean figure belied defined muscles at first glance, and the lieutenant colonel was mesmerized by the way this being looked like a person, but so obviously was not.

“Ready to come with me, Dad-of-the-Year?” they asked, a mocking tone evident in their voice.

Ever the one for flair, Hughes put aside his pain, smiled and said, “Absolutely, kiddo. Where are we going?” in his best excited dad voice. He hoped it would piss the trigger-happy asshole off, and he was somewhat rewarded as the smile dropped off their face.

“Very funny. Get up; Father is waiting,” the shape-shifter sneered.

“Oh, so I was right with the ‘kiddo’ thing, then?” Maes questioned as he struggled to stand, using the wall as leverage and worming his way up bit by bit.

The other scoffed and rolled their eyes as they unlocked the iron padlock on the cell. “Do I need to restrain you, or are you going to behave?”

“I really don’t think I’m in much shape to be going anywhere. In fact, I’m probably going to end up leaning on you quite a bit.” Hughes pushed himself off the wall and used the momentum to propel himself toward the opening in the bars. True to his word, Maes caught himself on the one sent to collect him, knees giving way and weight sagging.

Scoffing, the shape-shifter dragged Hughes down the corridor, as if impatient to get to destinations unknown. And, as Maes thought about it, the muscles that this creature had were nowhere near what he thought would be required to support most of his weight; thinking further back, this was the same individual that carried him from the phone booth to here.

Glancing above, he noticed large pipes that seemed to line the ceiling and spread in all directions. Just ahead at an intersection in the tunnels, the lieutenant colonel could see the pipes become more congested.

The unlikely pair continued gimping down the hall together, Maes leaning more and more on his companion as they went. The adrenaline had worn out almost immediately after getting up, but the lieutenant colonel pushed aside his exhaustion and pain in favor of investigating the cavernous room that came into sight as they rounded the corner. Here seemed to be the nucleus of the pipes.

Standing at the base of the conglomeration of pipes was a man. He was tall, with straight blond hair that fell mid-back and a beard to match. Donning a white robe with crisscrossed sashes adorning his torso, Maes couldn’t help but think that he looked like some sort of prophet.

But, as Hughes understood it, prophets were not ones to look down their nose at their followers. He dug for his limited religious knowledge, something that Maes tucked away in the dark crevasses of his unconscious. His brain was screaming at him to focus on escape, on gathering the strength to fight his way out if need be; Maes tried to quiet the riotous noise and focus on what he could remember, but then the figure spoke.

“Thank you Envy. Leave the human there,” the deep voice echoed.

The shape-shifter replied, “Yes, Father,” and dutifully withdrew its support. Maes’s body crumpled unceremoniously the cold ground. Hughes thought it was somewhat funny that it almost looked like he was kneeling in front of the prophet before him.

Maybe he needed to heed Roy’s advice and get his sense of humor checked.

“How do you know I won’t run away?” Maes asked.

The prophet, who also seemed to be the one that Envy called Father, made a noise in his throat and said, “I doubt you have the strength to make it to the door. But if you believe you do, go on,” he offered with a sweeping gesture towards a door that Maes had not noticed previously. Suspiciously, Hughes cast a wary glance in the door’s direction, but decided against any attempts. He had no clue why he was there, or what he was wanted for, but he wasn’t stupid enough to try anything.

“That’s what I thought,” the man in white said. “You humans are all the same. Weak. Pitiful.”

Maes grunted as a bolt of pain thundered within his body. Through gritted teeth, he forced out, “Quite an interesting statement there. You look human. One wouldn’t think that you speak about your own kind with such disdain.”

“I may appear mortal,” Father started, “but I am far superior to any human. If you saw a bug on the ground, do you concern yourself with its life? With what it thinks, what it feels? Humans are nothing but insects to me.

“However… insects still have their uses. Bees pollinate. Worms fertilize. And humans provide disguises with less suspicion, especially those that already have high-profile friendships.”

Maes swallowed. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“And now that I have both components, let’s attempt what has only ever been successfully completed one other time.”

Turning to the right, the blond cast his gaze upward; Maes followed the angle and, for the first time, noticed a man suspended in the air, swords sticking out of his body at various angles, red electricity occasionally sparking near the entrance wounds.

Hughes was familiar enough with alchemy to recognize the attempts at transmutation. But who was transmuting? And what? Shaking his head minutely to clear his thoughts, Maes wondered if he did die after all, and he was now in some strange sort of afterlife. Was he due to be tortured next?

“Greed. Awaken.” Father watched as the chained and stabbed one stirred.

His eyes were an unnatural shade of purple, and his pupils were shaped like those of a cat’s, Maes noticed. “Well, well… the gang’s almost all here,” the man said with a winning smile, revealing impossibly pointed teeth. “Where are my missing brothers, though? I would love to tell Wrath hello on… proper terms, this time.” His winning smile turned sharp.

“Wrath and Pride are above ground, doing as their told. I would have loved to say the same for you all these years. You have disappointed me for the last time, Greed.”

Hughes felt the ground shifting, concrete grinding against concrete, as a basin filled with a boiling substance rose directly beneath Greed. Dread and nausea filled Hughes’s very being. The feelings only intensified when the dangling man began laughing maniacally. Slowly, the homunculus began his descent into the vat.

“Like hell this is going to work, Dad! You might be able to kill me, but there is no way in hell that anyone has enough greed, enough avarice, to take me in!!”

The lieutenant colonel shook and tried to force the bile rising in his throat to stay down, where it belonged. He had seen a lot of things throughout his time in the military, but this felt inhumane. Before Greed’s head hit the boiling liquid, Father raised his hand.

“Return to me, Greed.”

A piercing scream reverberated throughout the chamber, and Maes finally lost his battle with sickness. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and lifted his head in time to see red liquid dispensed from a series of tubes into a wine glass.

Father lifted the glass, making eye contact with Hughes. “To new beginnings,” he stated as he tipped the goblet and drank deeply.

Maes was frozen in fear. What the hell did he have to do with any of this? At first, he thought it had to do with his knowledge of the country-wide transmutation circle, but now he wasn’t so sure. Even if the two were connected, in what way?

Slowly advancing towards the lieutenant colonel, Father smiled gently. “Do not be afraid, Maes Hughes. You would be a very valuable asset to me. However, I need to make you a little more…” he paused dramatically, looking at Maes’s wounds, “sturdy.”

Before Hughes could begin to process the words, a third eye opened on Father’s forehead. It seemed to cry tears of red liquid, not unlike the liquid that was just consumed by the man in white. The substance congealed as it cascaded into Father’s awaiting hand, not quite hardening into a solid, but not quite staying liquid either.

Lengths of cord shot out of nowhere and forced Hughes into a spread-eagle position on the ground. Father’s hand hovered over the open gunshot wound in his shoulder, and as Maes started to question whether the wound was put there to immobilize him or to give them an available opening into his circulatory system, white-hot pain seared through his body.

The color crimson consumed his vision, first flashing like lightning, then invading in a swirling current of red and black. Hughes’s body convulsed. His joints bent and bowed in grotesque ways; all the while, his tendons tore and healed in an endless cycle of destruction and resurrection. A raw scream ripped from Maes’s throat. Right before he was swallowed by the undertow of red, he could only see the glow of red eyes from the figure in white.

The inferno around him twisted and shaped itself into what looked like a face. A strangely familiar face, with impossibly pointed teeth and cat-shaped eyes, despite the lack of pupils.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the mouth said through unmoving lips. The words which sounded from the phantasm were striated sound as if spoken from a thousand voices at once. “There is no way that you are capable of withstanding the embodiment of Greed the Avaricious! However, if you just hand over your body, I will be sure to take good care of it.”

“If I refuse to hand over my body,” Maes said cautiously, but confidently, “what will happen to me?”

“Well, I’ll have to try to take it by force. And then, if you even survive, you’ll be swallowed into the thousands of souls the Philosopher’s Stone already sustains.”

“I won’t be conscious again if you have to take me by force?”

“No, but why would you want to be?” the face, who Hughes assumed was Greed himself, questioned. “The world is a mess; even you can’t deny that. What in this universe would make you want to see more of it?”

“My family!” Maes answered emphatically, nearly screaming with hysteria. “My wife, my daughter! My best friend…” He trailed off. Quietly, he pleaded, “I just wanted more time.” Thinking quickly, he steeled his nerves.

“Fine then!” he shouted. “Take me! Take my body! I freely give myself to you!”

“Huh?” Greed said. “You’re giving yourself to me?”

“Yes I am,” the lieutenant colonel smiled dangerously. “And, for letting you do so, I won’t lose my consciousness to the Stone. I’ll get to see my darling daughter again.”

“Families are nothing!” Greed countered. “Trust me; I had a wealth of siblings and a father all my own - they did nothing for me. They held me back! And found families are even worse; you trust them, and then they don’t even try to save you. That’s bound to happen to you, too, if you put all your stock in that garbage.”

Maes forcefully shook his head, “You’re wrong! Families are the only thing that makes another turn on this wretched globe worth living. Take me over. Use my body. And I’ll prove to you that you can have it all if you have family and friends willing to take on everything with you.”

An eerie quiet settled within the red and black void as Greed contemplated Maes’s offer. Then, he chuckled menacingly, and Hughes thought for sure he was done for. He began to say a silent goodbye to Gracia, to Elicia, to Roy, and to everyone else who touched his life...

He was interrupted.

“You’re decisive; I like that! And committed, too. If nothing else, I’m almost guaranteed to succeed if you’re outright accepting me! All right, it is done!” the many voices resounded.

A blinding white light opened up and began to swallow Maes; as more pain wracked his body, he heard Greed say, “Let’s see how ready you are to be avaricious!”

His eyes opened to see the last bolts of red, alchemic energy leaving the body. At first, he was staring at the ceiling, but when the cords holding the body down receded, Greed stood and faced Father.

Hughes suddenly realized he was watching the events around him, as though they were happening on a screen. He had no control over the actions of the body that was once his. He could only see what Greed chose to see. But he could hear what Greed heard, feel what Greed felt. And as he stood before Father as an obedient iteration of the one called Greed, Maes felt the bullet lodged in his shoulder eject and heard it land on the floor. In the next moment, a crackle of red energy realigned the bones and tissue that were damaged, effectively healing the body.

Maes could see Father’s red eyes, glowing in the darkness.

And then he heard, “Welcome back...my avarice.”

[dass-ist-egal]

it’s been 2 years of existencial crysis

I want to talk to you and know what you think about me.

I couldn’t complete it and it makes me feel sad.

I’m ashamed of that.

I can’t feel happy for others anymore.

I’m doing my best but it’s really tiring.

I want to do so many things but I feel that chainging my rutine will make me miserable.

I’m already miserable.

will I ever go there again?

even if I did, I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to.

I’m too ashamed to try to talk to the people I met when I was there.

I hate my country.

I hate my language.

I hate my family.

I don’t like my friends anymore even though they really care about me, I don’t hate them but I’ve become so picky that even the slightest thing bothers me.

I listen to emo music and think about killing myself all the time but I’m not brave enough to do it and I don’t really want to anyway.

I need someone to save me but nobody really has to.

when I think about that time I feel happy, sad and ashamed also because I couldn’t really “connect” as I wanted to.

I envy people with good strong close relationships, I don’t wish them any bad, I just would like to have the same.

all of my relationships are really close but in a different way, pretty much everybody I know knows that I’m depressed and I hate my life.

I’ve thought about working for two years and invest in real estate but I’m scared of it taking too long.

probably none of my dreams have come true.

I’ve thought a lot about opening a youtube channel and just talking about the things I like even if nobody watches it, like this blog it’d be to pass the time but I can’t finish any script, I want to do something that I’d enjoy myself and I’d love to speak in english but sometimes my accent becomes stronger and I feel bad about it, I know that many people like them or just don’t care but I do and as many people would say “that’s what matters”

im probably just a disgusting human being.

I feel disgusted by my father.

I feel disgusted by the way people talk in this place.

I feel disgusted by the way they think they are doing something worthy when in reality what they’re doing could hardly be called that.

I hate critics, I don’t want to accept them, I want to be told stuff nicely and I know that that’s probably immature but I simply can’t stand them (though I happily accept suggestions)

I think I’m a snob but I don’t want to be that.

my mindset can change really quick so right now I may say that I’m bloody disgusted by critics but I may want some in the future and I guess that it makes me a little inconsistent though if you were in my head you’d know that it’s not really THAT inconsistent.

many people in real life think of me as rich or wealthy and to this country I am?

I don’t know, I think that I’m just not as stupid as them and spend my money properly, pretty much any one of them should be wealthier than me but they’re all too stupid to realize that.

none of this really matters, in 200 years I’ll most likely be dead and this will be lost on the internet.

sometimes I like to think about bad moments or stuff that made me misserable to fill the void with misery, I think that being happy here would be betraying myself.

even if it makes me miserable a long time ago I decided that I’d never betray myself and that I’d never be a hypocrite, if something is wrong then it’s wrong and even if it’s easier or more convinient I’ll just avoid it and do it the way I think of as the right one.

I like fancy talking but I probably suck at it, I wish I could meet someone that I could talk to like that and do references and stuff.

sometimes I feel that I connect with some anime characters just because they were in a similar situation to mine, I’ve felt my mindset is really similar to izaya orihara’s but I wouldn’t poison anyone or trick them in such ways it’s just that the way he speaks is really similar to the way I speak in real life and the way he thinks is also really similar to mine somehow.

I’ve also felt related to chitose from girlish number since we’re also really similar in some ways, we both want to achive greatness without making a real effort or getting our hands dirty.

I wonder a lot and most of the times I get an idea and then shut myself up, for example I was thinking about what would happen if someone tried to guide me in real life but then I remembered that everybody is fucked and if that person could do it then it means that I’m most likely able to do it to hence that person can’t be so far way from me.

I don’t love myself but I don’t really hate me, I usually don’t think about myself it’s something like “i’d like this to happen or I hate that person or I don’t do that” but... well I probably think of myself as just a person?

I’m incomplete and I know that if everybody was like me society would be fucked (wich sounded funny on my mind) but I don’t think that I’m a bad person.

I wish I was more handsome or something.

I’m too awkward and I’d also love to be able to walk to a new place without trembling, sometimes I can but for some reason it mostly happens when I’m alone, if I’m with someoine else that person goes in front of me and asks for the stuff for me and if there is a questiont hen I may tell them what to do or just directly answer to that person.

the air of this city is so poluted I don’t want to breath but if I don’t I’ll die and it hurts so I have to do it but still, that’s something that goes through my mind all of the time.

I do my best to never flaunt about anything but maybe I’m too quick to talk, once a friend of a friend saw something of mine and told me wow you have that thing, to which I replied it’s not as great as you may think.

my life without it would be WAY worse but still I think that there is room for improvement.

I believe that if something is not of your liking you should complain or try to change it yourself as long as it makes sense and it’s not bothering anyone.

it seems like my grandfather doesn’t believe in that but I think that if nobody complained technology and pretty much everything would take even longer to improve.

the best part of my day is probably when I see that someone uploaded a video or an anime just came out, if I start one I do my best to finish them even though sometimes they’re terrible.

last season I didn’t watch the last episode of 3-4 animes just because I wasn’t feeling like it and I thought that those animes are not really alright.

I wouldn’t really want to move to japan, I think that I’d probably say yes if the opportunity comes by but I know that life there is “terrible” for different reasons.

I feel sick of people saying that they know what other people are thinking like for example this country thinks about this or that topic or I know you’ll love thisI know that I talk a lot about how people from my country and also this part of the continent act but I’ve met them myself and I can tell, they’ve just talked a little bit to some, for example there’s an image that says something like “the japanese say that if nobody has done it before I have to be the first to do it”. it may sound inspiring but to me it sounds really stupid, if I haven’t talked to anyone (something that happens some days) this phrase becomes the stupidiest thing I’ve read on that day. I understand that just because nobody has done it it doesn’t have to mean that such thing is impossible but seriously they have to stop exaggerating, if you’re not interested you’re not fucking interested, I won’t do something that nobody else has done before NOT BECAUSE I CAN’T BUT BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO.

I once saw something like “the minimum wage there is -----” and well. it also bothered me, it’s higher yes but it’s not 40 times our wage.

I just said our but I don’t like to think of myself as someone from this country, I know that most of my ancestors immigrated from other parts of the world and I wouldn’t say that I necessarily hold pride to it (I have no real pride) but it helps me to distantiate myself from the others. I don’t talk like them and I’ve been told many times that I don’t look like them. in fact sometimes I’m asked where am I from but I wouldn’t really say that there is a clear answer for that, I’ve been told that I look like I’m from western europe or from another country in the continent I live in which would mean that yea I look different but not THAT different, a friend of mine told me that I look like I’m from a neighboring country (which is on bad terms with this one and many people could think of that as an insult BUT IDGAF) but their ethnicy is different so that’s also a thing. I don’t want to be looked as racist, I don’t want to be racist or anything, I want everyone to be happy and to be able to feel free and be... well... the word might be apreciated or just not discriminated, I can tell that I don’t do that I just don’t like being told that I’m like most people since I don’t like them. I wouldn’t turn my back on someone just because he or she has a different skin color, I’m not even that white though it’s still white enough for people here to think of me as such.

(in fact I’ve been told by some white people that I’m not white or that I’m “a mix?” idk how tho say it in this language since it’s not my mothertounge though it’s the thing I hold the most pride to though I’de love to keep on improving)

once I was in a concert with 2 friends and somebody asked me where I was from and one of my friends told him that I didn’t go out that much LOL it probably was the funniest and meanest thing I had heard in this year though it didn’t bother me.

sometimes I wish I could just have first world problems, most of them are somewhat stupid though (of course that is my opinion)

I believe in gender equality which is something that not many people do in this country, not only that but women themselves don’t believe in that and I’d say that even though that limits them it also gives them some sort of “power” because “if you argue with one you’re a bad person and if you hit one you’re the most evil guy in the universe” so if one of them hit you or insult you you take it and do nothing about it (which I was never willing to do)

it’s not like I wanted to insult everyone and hit them, “bothering” someone for no reason is the opposite of what I want to do but I’d love to be able to defend myself though I’d like to not need that either.

I just read the tittle again so I guess that I’m gonna keep explaining myself.

I’m too afraid to say your name and when I think too much about it I sort of want to cry, I could say that I feel in love with you but not in a sexual way, you probably became my best friend (which is pathetic since we didn’t see each other for more than 4 months) I thought that you understood me and I know that I wasn’t a “perfect human being” in fact I think that I’m doing something about it by explaining myself here, when i post something here I usually give some context on the hashtag section, I guess I could wish that I was more like you and less like me.

I could say that I admire you if I had to say that I admire someone but you’re just a normal person who happened to be really nice to me and that I felt connected to.

I wonder if you think about me. once a day? once a month? once a year?

I do think about you all the time, about what would you do if I ever saw you again.

I oppened myself too soon to you and I’m scared of what you might do with that information, if you were to find this blog I’d feel really ashamed and scared of what you may say, I don’t want to erase it.

....... I don’t want to see you here. leave and never come back.... I’d be afraid of that.

how have you been? would you like to talk or something?.... that’d be great.

I won’t contact you because I know that you don’t want to talk to me anymore, you made it very clear but I’m.

I began to think about something else and lost what I was thinking about.

I don’t want to look like my father, I can’t stare at him without feeling disgusted.

not everyone does that, he can go around without problems, it’s not that he is utterly ugly or something but I don’t like the way he looks or dresses and I don’t want to be like that at all.

I want to grow taller and I know that I still can, I think that 10cm is probably too much but I would like to grow that much, i’m already “tall” or ok for this country’s standars but that’s not my goal.

I don’t like staring or looking at people in the street, I usually look somewhere else, a friend of mine once told me that he thought that I had probably thought that he was a robber (he said that as a joke, that’s the kind of person he is) but what really happened was that I hadn’t recognized him from far away so I didn’t want to look at him, I was looking at the floor to not have contact with some random person on the street, I guess that I’m afraid of someone yelling or insulting me and trying to rob me in the streets but that’s what I’ve been thought and it’s something difficult to change since most of what’s is in the news is “this person was robbed and killed” or something like that.

the tittle was probably great for when I started but now it’s simply not enough, I’d change it to something like talking abouy my personal issues or sumarising my problems but it probably wouldn’t fit all of the text.

I’d say that I’d love to keep expanding this post but right now at this exact point in time I;m out of ideas and expanding it is not something that i’d necessarily love but rather “enjoy”? it made me feel many things and even if nobody really reads this, it makes me comfortable and scared.