#removing myself from the equation

[jerzwriter]

We don't have a dress.

My daughter is going to put me in my grave.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

In the lights out AU somebody either some dumb teenagers or previous workers need to go and turn that breaker on surely the employees can see "Oh hey! There's no lights on but we know those puppets are alive. Maybe they don't know what a breaker is?"

(Sure this may mean some people get mauled by muppets but I really want interaction between humans and these fuzzy gremlins the image of someone taking Wallys club going "No Wally you don't hit people don't you remember that from [Insert episode number/title here]")

OH trust me its gonna go a lil differently than that but there Are people who get involved. especially One person. and kinda her fam. also this ask is really funny... someone referencing episodes... Wally would absolutely know what they're talking about (he has so many of them memorized) and he Would feel chastised

[a-bitch-made-fullmetal]

GOOD morning. keen observers of Me as a person on the internet might know that I've published a couple of fma fanfics, one of which is titled "chance encounter". that fic, of course, is about Hohenheim being a transphobic piece of shit because I love making fictional fathers evil for no reason.

another fun fact, that fic was originally meant to be from Ed's pov before I changed my mind and made it from Roy's instead because in my head certain elements worked better that way. but I recently came across the original draft, and I quite like it actually, so I'm posting it here!

trigger warning for transphobia and misgendering and also Ray's Customary Hohenheim Character Slander™

At first, Edward thought he wouldn't recognise him.

Hoped he wouldn't recognise him.

It had been over ten years, and he doubted the man had spared them more than a handful of thoughts in the decade he had left them to fend for themselves.

He couldn't possibly recognise him.

Ed shook his head, didn't brush his bangs back when they fell into his face. His gaze landed on the debris littering the street, the torn up cobblestones, the loose wires sparking away from the base of a toppled streetlight.

“Fullmetal.” Edward turned and watched the Colonel step up beside him, surveying the damage they had done as he tugged his ignition gloves off. He waited for him to say something else, rubbing at his faintly aching wrist–sprained, probably–but Mustang stayed silent.

He turned his attention to his little brother, clunking around awkwardly in the background like he didn't know what to do with himself.

At least he didn't have to worry about being recognised.

Ed swallowed against the sour taste on his tongue.

Havoc approached the man idling on the other side of the street, undoubtedly staring at Ed from behind reflective glasses, and he angled himself further away.

“Well, we got our guy–let’s go,” he said and didn't acknowledge the strange look Mustang shot him.

“...sure. The team can handle the rest.” Edward trudged past him, only to screech to a halt two steps later. “Alphonse! C’mon, let's pack it up.”

There was a brief silence before heavy clanking footsteps drew nearer, and Ed closed his eyes, praying for the first time in a long time.

“Alright, boys-” the Colonel began as he fell into step next to them, Hawkeye the ever dutiful shadow at his back.

A heavy hand clapped down on Ed's flesh shoulder, whirling him around with enough force his braid whipped behind his back. He knocked the unwelcome appendage off without thinking about it, moving a quick step backwards to get out of reach.

Golden eyes stared down at him from behind wired frames, and Ed's mouth pulled into a sneer. He was dimly aware of Alphonse's quiet brother somewhere next to him, followed by a metallic click he immediately recognised as the sound of a gun being cocked.

“Rebecca,” Hohenheim said, and Edward reared backwards as if struck-

God, he wished he had just struck him.

That would have hurt less.

“Dad,” Alphonse said quietly, and Hohenheim’s cold eyes flitted from Ed to Al and back, not paying any mind to Hawkeye and her gun, or the fact that Mustang pulled his ignition gloves back on and readied himself to snap.

“I could have sworn you were a girl the last time I saw you,” he said, and Ed balled his fists so tightly the metallic screech of automail filled the otherwise silent street.

“You must be mistaking me for someone else,” he pressed past gritted teeth, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare, his chest so tight he could barely breathe.

“Let's go, Fullmetal,” the Colonel said, voice calm but fingers still poised to snap, and all of a sudden he experienced an appreciation for Mustang's presence he had never known before.

“Yeah.” He turned on his heel, ready to get as far away from this as fast as possible, when a hand closed around his flesh–injured–wrist and yanked him back.

He yelped and attempted to free himself, but Hohenheim didn't budge, and his wrist hurt.

“Unhand him!” Mustang demanded at once, and Hawkeye narrowed her eyes, clicking off the safety.

“She's my daughter,” was all Hohenheim said, and yet all the air rushed from Ed's lungs as if he had taken a good punch to the solar plexus. “Rebecca- you're with the military?”

Ed stared up at the man in pressing silence. It was like he was watching the scene unfold as a third party, standing next to his frozen body, unaffected.

“Dad-” Al began next to him, taking a hulking step forward, his usually soft tinny voice stern.

“My name is Edward,” he cut in, toneless and blank faced, and Hohenheim’s brows knotted in a frown.

“Let go of my subordinate, I will not be asking again-” Mustang hissed from somewhere behind his shoulder, Alphonse audibly nodding his agreement.

“I'm her father,” Hohenheim said as if that was all reasoning required and yanked Ed off balance with a firm tug on his trapped wrist, making him stumble another step forward. “What's going on, Rebecca? What happened to you brother? What did you do?”

Edward's breath caught in his tight throat. His wrist throbbed. He bit back a wince.

“It's Edward,” he breathed again, but his voice was weak and small and barely audible, and he hated himself for it.

“You think I don't recognise my own daughter? I was there for your birth, I gave you your name–what is this, some kind of charade for the sake of your military career?” the last words dripped from his lips like poison, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses, and his fingers tightened around his wrist. This time, Edward couldn't suppress his pained whimper.

“You're hurting him!” Alphonse called, one armoured hand shooting out, but Hohenheim yanked his hand back as if burned before he could make contact. Ed ripped his arm away, cradling it to his chest, and took two quick steps backwards. The added distance wasn't nearly enough.

Something in the man's eyes changed, then, softened, and he let his hand drop to his side, fingers flexing.

“I didn't mean-” he said to Ed, who just glared and sneered, but paused before something akin to an apology could actually leave his mouth–Edward couldn't say he was surprised.

Hohenheim turned to Alphonse. Hawkeye moved from her place beside the Colonel to Edward's other side on silent soles, so that he was flanked by both adults. Inexplicably, something tight inside him uncoiled ever so slightly.

“Him?” Hohenheim said as if he hadn't heard every single time someone had referred to Edward before this instance.

Al nodded. “He's my brother,” he said softly, and Edward swallowed hard, still so affected by the way his little brother spoke those words, effortless and earnest.

The man's mouth tightened into a hard line, and he lowered his head, the reflection of his glasses hiding his eyes from view.

“Your mother would be heartbroken if she could see you like this,” he said quietly, and the numbness encompassing Ed was devoured by an inferno of rage as though with a snap of the Colonel's fingers.

“You do not get to talk about our mother,” he snarled, storming out from the protective cocoon of Mustang and Hawkeye to crowd into Hohenheim's space, his face twisted with fury.

“You-” He jabbed his automail finger into the man's chest, hard. “keep her name out of your mouth, do you understand me? You have no fucking right-”

“Edward.” Somehow, his real name from that man's mouth felt more like a slap to the face than the other one had. “Understand- you took her daughter from her. You took my daughter from me.”

His arm dropped. Spots danced across his vision as though he had taken a blow to the nose, and Ed stumbled backwards-

Right into a pair of strong arms.

“Alright, that's enough. Boys, we're leaving,” Mustang said, low and controlled, and took Ed by his automail arm with a gentleness that was by no means necessary–but still appreciated, even though he wouldn't admit to that out loud–, turning him around, breaking his gaze away from Hohenheim.

Hawkeye lowered her gun, but didn't put it away yet. Alphonse let out a muffled sigh, and then he fell into step behind them.

“Wait- Flame Alchemist,” Hohenheim called, and Mustang let out a long breath, his brow creased with annoyance.

“What?” he snapped, only halfway turned around, his arm a protective barrier between Ed and that man.

“They're my children. I have a right to them.”

A burst of hysterical laughter tore from Ed's throat, but neither man acknowledged him. Al lowered his head with a soft creak, mumbling a tiny brother that tugged on something deep inside his ribcage.

Mustang scoffed. “They're orphans on paper. I'm their legal guardian. You have the right to fuck right off.”

With that, he wrapped his arm tighter around Ed and firmly led him away, Alphonse following without another word.

His chest hurt, and his wrist throbbed, but the tight knot in his stomach loosened with every step he took.

[artificial-condition]

Time to start looking for new jobs babes 🥰

[novafire-is-thinking]

Making playlists for some TF characters be like:

“Sir, I love you. But Primus help me, your musical vibes are nearly impossible to pinpoint accurately.”

Alternatively, when the character’s musical vibes are already known or are finally found:

*spends fruitless hours checking out songs new and old that just don’t fit*

*looks at character and sighs dramatically*

“…pathetic. None of them are worthy of you.”

[petrichorium]

I haven’t refreshed my dash yet but I think I’ll take an impromptu hiatus

[millies-theme]

Staying offline today, its Valentine's and i always celebrated beatrices birthday today so for my own sake im staying off :v:

[bi0mancy]

i'm probably gonna move hazel to @defi4nce & delete this account bc logging into my blogs is just making me really unhappy & lonely so may as well have everything in the same space.

[tropicana-on-the-walkway]

Maturing is not letting other people's bad mood affect your good mood

[mikeshardbongwater]

.

[the-physicality]

i don't even know what to say

i had a bad feeling about this game ever since i went to watch and it was on *m*z*n pr*me

what happened to the offense

what happened to the defense [what happened to the defense is that atlanta has one 3 point threat and apparently washington has 8?

monique i thought had a very good game

celeste did well

natasha mack again had good impact

honestly i thought we took better care of the ball tonight than we have in a while but the shots were just not falling

i'm still annoyed at nate's rotations and honestly i think they are fucking up the first quarters

like i get that he's working on rotations or what ever but if people are getting points [the first points, the only points so far] maybe keep those people in instead of pulling them halfway through the quarter

i want to say this politely: it seems like he has pre planned rotations that he's going to implement regardless of the context of the game -_-

like we lost the 1st by 9, we lost the 2nd by 9, we lost the 3rd by 4 and we won the 4th by 9. thus the game by 13

if we lose the 1st by 5 instead that means that we've either played better defense or scored more points which keeps us hotter going into the 2nd, making it easier to play well, etc.

[hero-dualies-3]

they should just fucking shoot me tbh

[chlopieno]

This friday sucks super bad so far.

[pizzabookbuying]

thinking about the fanfic I read where one of the characters upon his death traveled back in time and how I was like oh cool I love second chance fics but then the timeline ended up making him like early 20s while his eventual love interest was like 12 and I was like…oh…maybe he’ll leave because it’s too weird for him and then when he eventually comes back they’ll actually have to meet again that’s kind of cute.

But no. No. He stayed there. And she developed a crush on him. And his pov was sooooo creepy ffff ugh the things I end up reading for a rarepair because I’m desperate for fics

[yououghtaknow]

just woke up and i am INSTANTLY experiencing some of the worst bpd feelings i've had in a While

[starnivore]

i wish the sad lonely men I work with would stop seeing me as an option im not an option im not interested leave me beeeeeeee