#kimblee drabble

[fullmetalwritings]

Hey! Sorry to bother you but if your asks are still open, could you write a drabble for Kimblee with a male, state alchemist reader? (If you want to go more specific, he is called the Blood Alchemist because he can control the blood inside of a human being so he can control the body. He was used in wars many times before, but he hates gore. If you want you can change his title, I just forgot what it was supposed to be initially when I wrote him lmao)

When he looks at you, it’s more like that of a predator than that of a man. His gaze is as sharp as a knife. Between that and the pristine white suite that he wears, you couldn’t be more certain of the man’s identity even before he gave you his name and asked for your own in turn.

“Oh,” he murmurs, recognition seeping through his expression. “So you’re the Blood Alchemist. I’ve heard of your… work. Your record in the war was very interesting.” His eyes linger on your face for a few moments before he takes in a breath and crosses his arms. “Not a single casualty connected to your name and yet you excelled on every mission you had been assigned.”

You’re not quite sure what to say to him at that, even if what he’s telling you is only the truth. It’s not as if any of your missions had been kept a secret—no more than any other State Alchemist at the time of the Ishval Civil War. But your skills, so unlike that of your peers, had been put to a very unique form of use. Sure, you had not been the direct cause of death for countless innocent lives, but your puppeteering had certainly pushed more than a few into the direct sight of a sniper.

Kimblee seems to take the silence with continued interest, eventually deciding to take a seat across from you on the train heading towards Central. You had almost hoped that he would have passed you by entirely, but his familiarity with your face (something that most alchemists from the war seemed to have) was the downfall of such yearning for a peaceful ride home.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” you finally say. “I never wanted to be a tool in the first place.”

“We were tools the moment that we signed up for the military,” Kimblee argued, tone oddly soft for the harshness of the truth in his words, “and like it or not, there’s some pride to be taken in your skills. A man like you shouldn’t forget how much time and effort went into the research of your alchemy.”

“Research that killed hundreds,” you say, turning your eyes sternly out the window. “…Perhaps even thousands, or even more.”

“True enough.”

Kimblee doesn’t seem all that deterred, but he drops the subject without fanfare, his own eyes finally falling from you and towards the window overlooking some rolling hills and grasslands. For a few minutes, the silence is blissful—you even wonder if he might get up and leave you be. But of course, the man is nothing if not curious (and always had been in the few times the two of you had crossed one another), and finally turns back to look at you with a smile like that of a snake. Hungry. Dangerous.

“So tell me,” he says all too casually, resting his chin on his hand against the window, “what business does a man like you have in Central?”

This… is going to be a long, long train ride.

[regnantlight]

@creepiitus​​ did THAT: sooo, following the promised day, how do you think zelda will react to kimblee's death? :^)))

||Unprompted and Uncalled for|| 

    A year had come and gone since Zelda had last seen Solf J. Kimblee, much less spoken to him. Her marriage, arranged with the Duke of  Aldasa, had seen to that. It was for the best, she told herself. Truly. 

    It was best. 

    There was hardly time to dwell on it, regardless. The process of getting, and subsequently being, married was certainly enough to fill her time. Her advisors had been correct— everyone loved a royal wedding. Even when it was with a princess that they supposedly couldn’t stand. But as the adoration simmered down, as plates with pictures of her bridal face slowly stopped selling, the hate and the danger returned, and Zelda at last payed the price of her alchemy in blood and whipped scars upon her back; and for it, they crowned her Queen.

     Yes, indeed, her year had been busy. And though her thoughts did, admittedly, turn to Solf far more often than she would have ever liked, there was always something to be done that could divert her attention once more. But like a stain upon carpet, he was never quite, entirely, gone. She loathed to think how much the knowledge would please him, if he ever found out. 

     He never would. 

     The news of his death had come alongside a list of numerous other names, but somehow, it was Solf J. Kimblee who made the entire report seem like an elaborate, ill-considered prank. It was well-known that he was, as one member of Central had once put it, the “roach” of Amestris. He would not die, even when he was sent marching to his death. He did not die in the war, he did not die in prison, he did not die in his reckless line of work. Solf J. Kimblee did not die. 

     And so Zelda waited. And waited. Waited for word of his sighting in one country or another, of his renewed imprisonment for one crime or another. She even waited for a note from him, for it seemed quite along the lines of his beloved flair of dramatics, despite their agreement to part ways for good. 

                      It wasn’t supposed to be like this, though. 

     Months went by. There was work, so much work to be done. Then a year. She became pregnant with a child, and oh, how that kept her on her toes. The baby was born. Her nights were filled with feedings and the work only piled higher. How would he have died? she found herself wondering through it all, as though he were a theory she was forced to consider. How? 

    An explosion? 

    A collapsed building? 

   She spoke of him to no one— who would she have been able to tell? Who would have understood? — but as time soldiered on, Zelda found a great weight pressing on her chest, scratching and eating at her bit by bit. 

    How would he have died? 

    The research into his records had meant to bring her peace, but as she read the autopsy report (a report which proved, beyond reasonable doubt, that it was indeed the body of Solf J. Kimblee that was found), Zelda only felt the weight grow. 

     That wasn’t the way that he was meant to die. 

     She wasn’t sure what it should have been. Something else. But not that. Not— not like that. 

     There was so much to be done, and her chest kept feeling heavier and tighter with each passing day. And so Zelda worked. And she worked. And she worked. And her husband was kind, and respectful, and left her alone for her hours and days and weeks where she tended to nothing but her office and her daughter. And she found herself wishing, somewhere deep in her heart where she kept the childish parts of herself, that he was cruel. That he was horrible and a drunk and something that would have been worth hating him for. 

      And she found herself wishing that she had hated Solf far more than she had cared for him, so that his death would be meaningless. So that it didn’t hurt. So that she didn’t regret— 

      She wrote a letter. Only one. Zelda wrote until her wrist felt sore and she had torn apart his every action, pointed out every flaw in his “great plan,” laid how exactly how his death could have been avoidable had he only been more reasonable, more considerate, more patient. Her toddler had more foresight (it was a rather good zing, Zelda thought, but she still crossed it out). He could have lived, she wrote, and what an ridiculous waste he was, to have all of his intellect, all of his talent, all of his potential and to simply die. 

     She told him that it was incredibly selfish of him. 

     She told him that she may never forgive him for it. 

     And then she wrote of softer things. Sentences that she would later burn so that no other eyes could read them. Of hurt. Of memories. Of a love that was so complicated and loud that she wasn’t sure it was love, but it had been hers, and in the deepest parts of her secrets, she had missed it. 

     On her wedding day and on her wedding night and sometimes when she took tea by the fireplace. She missed it. Missed him. Zelda told herself, as an adult might gently tell a child who didn’t know better, that Solf likely did not miss her in turn. Not in the same way. He would have missed her in delight, relishing in the tragedy, composing on his instruments. He wouldn’t have known how to feel painful (would he...?) 

     What did she want? For him to wince at every newspaper that showed her wedding photo? For him concoct a ridiculous scheme to see her even knowing that it would only make her hate him? 

      What did she want?

                Be alive. Be as absurd as you will. Be reckless. Be apart from me forever. But be alive, Solf, somewhere in this world. That is all that I want. 

      Zelda cried when she set her pen down, quietly, covering her face as though ashamed even in the privacy of her own study. And when she was done, the weight didn’t feel lighter. But it didn’t matter. She burned the letter, powdered her face, fed her daughter, and went back to work.

     She had become accustomed to great weights before; she could do it again. 

[kimiles]

Onion Man

a cracky miles/kimblee drabble inspired by the discord.....dont take this too seriously....yeah

Kimblee was always cold. So when he realized he had to go north to pursue Scar, he’d dreaded it. He didn’t understand how anyone could stand living at the fort. Even with all his coats on, he was still cold. The fort was barely heated, and he had a sneaking suspicion that they’d given him a room where the heat didn’t work.

He hated the cold. So that was why he relished the times when he could corner Miles, alone, and wind him up until Miles was dragging him back to his room with a steel grip on Kimblee’s wrist. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy to get the other man totally wrapped around his finger, but all the better. Spending some… quality time with Miles always managed to warm him up. Plus, as a bonus, Miles’ room was actually properly heated.

Miles dragged Kimblee inside, shutting and locking the door, and slammed Kimblee up against it before he could catch his breath.

“You think you’re so damn clever,” Miles hissed, as he fumbled with the buttons on Kimblee’s overcoat. He continued to rant about how much of a bastard Kimblee was, which the latter was content not to interrupt. This worked best by riling up Miles, after all. “Damn buttons…” Miles muttered.

Kimblee put his hands over Miles’, struggling with the last button of his overcoat. “Let me.” Smoothly, he undid it and slid the coat from his shoulders. He was about to start unbuttoning his undercoat when he noticed Miles’ expression. “What?”

“Another coat?”

“I get cold.”

Miles just raised an eyebrow, as Kimblee continued unbuttoning his coat. “Whatever,” he muttered, bending down to take off his boots. Once he took them off, he straightened back up to see Kimblee taking off his undercoat to reveal… another coat?? “Are you kidding me?” he said.

“It’s cold here! I don’t know how you people can stand it!” Kimblee said, starting to get annoyed. He began fumbling with the buttons of his coat a bit, feeling Miles’ somewhat judging stare on him. “Forgive me for not wanting to be cold,” he said sarcastically.

“Fuck you.” Miles crossed his arms and looked awkwardly across the room, then back at Kimblee, who was still undoing another one of his ridiculous coats. “I can come back, you know.”

“No, wait!” Kimblee said, frantically throwing the coat off to reveal his vest.

Miles raised an eyebrow. “You still have your scarf on.” Kimblee hadn’t even noticed, in his struggle to remove all his layers. Miles reached out to pull the scarf off Kimblee’s neck. He flung it somewhere in the room, knowing Kimblee would complain about that later, but not really caring. At this point he was just amused, watching Kimblee trying to remove his coats.

After the vest, it was a sweater. Miles put his head in his hands. His boner had died a long time ago. He was just trying not to laugh now. “You sure you don’t want me to come back?” he said.

“No I promise I’m almost done, wait—” Kimblee was pulling the sweater over his head now, revealing a long-sleeved collared shirt.

“Where do you get all these clothes in white, anyway?” Miles asked conversationally. His only response was a glare from Kimblee. Without all his layers, Kimblee looked a lot less bulky. When he had all the coats on, including his hat, he almost looked like a fat ghost. Miles barely suppressed a laugh at the thought.

“Shut up,” Kimblee said, looking straight at him. “This is the last layer.” He started unbuttoning the shirt.

“Oh, finally, I—” Miles stopped abruptly as Kimblee unbuttoned the shirt to reveal… an undershirt. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He bent down to pick up one of the many discarded layers and threw it at Kimblee’s face.

“Hey!” Kimblee sputtered, though it was muffled by the cloth hitting his face. He glared at Miles, then suddenly whipped his undershirt off and flung it at Miles.

“Shit!” Miles ducked and the shirt went flying through the room and hit the trashcan, making it topple over and spill its contents. He turned around to face Kimblee, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, it’s on.”

Kimblee yelped and barely managed to avoid the scrunched up ball of coat that Miles threw at him next. “You’re going to get that wrinkled!” he protested.

“Like anyone’s ever gonna see it. Wasn’t that one of your middle layers anyway?” Miles grinned. “Maybe cockroach isn’t the right term for you—”

“Wait, who’s calling me cockroach?”

“—but instead it should be onion. I mean, white coats, so many layers…”

“Absolutely not. I’ll kill you if you call me that.”

“Onion man!” Miles pointed at Kimblee’s offended face and laughed. “Onion man—agh!” He got a faceful of coat.

“Two can play this game,” Kimblee sneered. Like some kind of machine, he started rapidly gathering the coats scattered around him and launching them at Miles.

“Oof,” Miles said as a big wad of coats caught him in the middle. “Thought you didn’t want them to get wrinkles?”

“I’d much rather destroy you,” Kimblee said ominously. He fired another volley of coats, one of which caught Miles in the face again, but he managed to duck under another one and catch it in midair. Using all his strength and military reflexes, he whipped it back as quick as he could, catching Kimblee so hard in the leg the man almost fell. “You’ll pay for that!” he hissed in retaliation.

Miles grinned. He could see Kimblee was running out of ammunition, and the man was cornered against the door. He was in the perfect position to strike. The moment that Kimblee picked up his overcoat and threw it at him, he rushed over to where the scarf lay. He picked it up in his hands and tugged at it experimentally. Kimblee, evidently wondering why Miles hadn’t immediately thrown the article of clothing at him, stopped. Miles took advantage of Kimblee’s confusion and crowded Kimblee against the door, drawing himself up to his full height.

“I think it’s time to end this little game,” Miles said, his voice low.

“Oh,” was all Kimblee said.

The energy in the room had changed immediately, and Miles loved how in this situation, he had so much power over Kimblee. “I guess you’re finally undressed now, huh?”

Kimblee smirked. “I guess so.”

“This could be useful,” Miles said, waving the scarf in front of Kimblee’s face. “You liked it when I tied you up last time, remember?”

Suppressing a shiver at the memory, Kimblee nodded. He started letting himself indulge in fantasies of what was about to happen, when he froze.

Miles must have noticed, because he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Kimblee’s smirk slid into an apologetic sort of grin. “Oh… my pants.”

Miles looked down and realized that Kimblee still had his pants on. “Please don’t tell me there’s another million layers under there.”

Kimblee tried putting on his best remorseful face. “My legs get cold too.”

Miles put his head in his hands.

[callibop]

Kimblee/person of your choice "Behave."

“Now… What to do with you?” Riza shivered as Kimblee ran his hand down her arm. Riza shivered.“I don’t think letting me go is an option?” Riza asked, trying to keep herself steady in the face of danger. Solf J. Kimblee was dangerous. Where was Roy?“Of course not, Miss Sniper.” He smiled. “You’ve barely changed since Ishval. Still so obedient.”Riza shuddered again. “I’m serious. Let me go, and we won’t do anything against you.”“Now now. Behave yourself for me, Kitten.” He ran a hand down her face and Riza had to resist the urge to bite him. She just had to tough it out a little more. Roy would arrive any second.

[brightbertalt]

hey I’m bert!

wanna get writing requests done?

I’M YOUR MAN/WOMAN/THING!!!!

I write for….

American Horror Story

Tate Langdon, Kyle Spencer, Kit Walker, Jimmy Darling, Michael Langdon, Dandy Mott, and ask for any other characters!

Attack on Titan

Armin Arlert, Annie Leonhart, Reiner Braun, Bertholdt Hoover, Zeke Yeager, Porco Galliard, Pieck Finger, Floch Forster, Hitch Dreyse, Erwin Smith, Jean Kierstein, Connie Springer, Sasha Braus and ask for other characters!

Full Metal Alchemist

Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye, Maes Hughes, Ling Yao, Greed, Greedling, Mira Armstrong, Jean Havoc, Solf Kimblee, and ask for other characters!

Resident Evil

Leon Kennedy, Albert Wesker, Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield, Claire Redfield, Carlos Oliveria, Karl Heisenberg, and ask for other characters!

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Billy Hargrove, Dustin Henderson, Robin Buckley, Jim Hopper, Jonathan Byers, Alexei Smirnoff, Murray Bauman, Yuri, and ask for other characters!

Inside Job

Reagan Ridley, Brett Hand, Rand Ridley, Andre Lee, Glen Dolphmann, J.R, and ask for more characters!

Gotham/DC

Edward Nygma, Bruce Wayne, Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska, Johnathan Crane, Oswald Cobblepot, James Gordon, Victor Zsasz, Jervis Tetch,

Cowboy Bebop

Spike Spiegel, Faye Valentine, Jet Black, Vicious and ask for more characters!

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, and ask for more characters!

•Team Fortress 2

Scout, Medic, Engineer, Heavy, Sniper, Spy, Soldier, Demoman, and Pyro!

and many others! just ask 🥰

i write fluff, platonic, and smut requests whether they be drabbles, headcannons, fanfics or anything else :)

requests are very open!!!

[poursomesunaonme]

fullmetal alchemist masterlist

s - smut, f - fluff, dc - dark content, a - angst

✧ asks

♡︎ fan favorites

olivier armstrong

drabbles

✧ morning sex & facesitting (s)

✧ age gap & overstim (s)

✧ jealous sex & edging (s)

roy mustang

drabbles

✧ somnophilia & morning sex (dc, s)

solf j. kimblee

fics

hate you, want you (s, some a)

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme. do not copy and repost.

[minruko]

✰𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

i will not write any, yandere, nsfw, alpha/omega, or horror. i also will not be writing any type of dark content, any requests containing any of these items will be deleted. anything that isn't on this list is fine though

✰𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓

headcanons have a max of four characters, while a one-shot or drabble would have a max of two characters

it's okay to add some detail to your request! but make sure it's not too long so i have some wiggle room

✰𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃

it may take some time to get your request done cause i am a busy person, but i will try my best

i normally try to do my requests in order but i get burned out sometimes and skip around to the ones that catch my interest so there is no guarantee that I'll do them in the order they were sent in

my works will be gender-neutral if no gender is stated for the reader! but other than that i write for female, male, and gender-neutral readers

please make sure you read my dni before requesting

i no longer take requests for haikyuu, aot, or mha, I’ll accept suggestions though

characters i write for below the cut:

✰𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑

all the black bulls [minus gordon]

golden dawn [yuno, mimosa]

blue rose knights [sol, charlotte]

silver eagles [nozel]

crimson lion kings [leopold, fuegoleon, mereoleona]

aqua deer [rill]

elves [vetto, ryha]

other [julius, kaito]

dark triad

✰𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍

tokyo first years

tokyo second years [minus panda]

gojo

sukuna

toji

nanami

choso

getou

✰𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓

edward and alphonse elric

military [roy mustang, riza hawkeye, maes hughes, jean havoc]

briggs [olivier mira armstrong, buccaneer]

homunculi [greed/greedling]

other: ling yao, kimblee

✰𝐒𝐊𝟖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘

main skaters [joe, cherry, langa, miya, reki]

✰𝐃𝐑. 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄

senku

chrome

tsukasa

kohaku

ginro

kinro

taiju

gen

ryusui

magma

sai

hyoga

luna

ukyo

moz

✰𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄

straw hats [chopper and brook platonically]

shanks

lucci

crocodile

ace

sabo

marco

kid

killer

perona

koby

smoker

tashigi

vivi

law

bepo [platonically]

shachi

penguin

doflamingo

corazon

baby 5

viola

katakuri

reiju

ichiji

niji

yonji

kiku

✰𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒

all of toman

mizo middle

haitani brothers

kakucho hitto

wakasa imaushi

shuji hanma

[alchemic-elric]

Hi guys! I don’t know if you’ve been reading or not, but my Pride Within verse is active again. 

In this verse Edward lost his fight with Pride on the Promised Day as Kimblee did not interfere. Thanks to Jay, we decided that’s because Kimblee Survived.  

Starting Drabble here

So to differentiate between Edward and Pride I have been making a whole new set of icons. 

Example: 

This post is to explain that as I have a thread with @angcrmanagcmcnt​ and @eveningmuses​ playing the part of Pride, I have given Eve permission to use the Pride set of icons when needed. As there will be plenty of times when Pride is speaking using Ed’s body. Thus purple icons. (I also changed his eyes on that set) 

I will also be using these in any future threads in this verse, including my threads with Jay (Kimblee) and Taryn (Al)

[misstinfoilhat]

for the drabbl thing, how about Edward with "take me instead"

Woop! First one! It became waaay too long, but I just can’t with this “drabble��� thing. I hope it meets your expectation! I got a little off track. --- Truth was standing before him; that infuriating toothy grin beaming boastfully. ‘W-why am I back here?’ Edward thought, peering over his shoulder as if he expected to be back in his room. There was just an infinite amount of void as far as he could see. White endlessness of absolutely nothing.   Behind Truth, was the gate. The large murals hovering over him, and Ed felt a surge through his stomach by the memory of being pulled by black ethereal hands and rushed through the dimension of overwhelming knowledge.  “Hello, Edward,” the sharp voice called out, demanding the teen’s attention. Edward took a few aggressive steps forward with a raised fist and paused.  His arm was back, he realized numbly. He blinked at it, wondering if it was real. Then he relaxed his stance and felt his left leg move effortlessly. No pain from a long-needed tune-up, no joints groaning from misuse, or irritation to the skin where metal met flesh.  “How did..?” Edward drawled, looking awestruck as he flexed his fingers. “Do you like them?” Truth chortled with excitement, shifting to stand up. “I don’t understand,” Edward answered as he tugged at his pant leg to confirm that there actually was a real leg under there. Sure enough, there it was. All though, the limb felt strange. Foreign. But he reasoned it was because he had been wearing those heavy metal limbs for the past four years.  “I figured you might like them,” Truth chirped as it strolled mundanely towards him. “Besides, their real owner won’t need them much longer.” A cold chill ran down Ed’s spine and he felt his pallor change. “W-what? What do you mean?” “What I just said.” Truth shrugged its shoulders, glancing towards the wary boy, its smirk growing steadily. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d be happy! Maybe it’s not your own limbs, but at least they will be kept in the family,” it laughed diabolically.   Ed couldn’t move. Understanding crept up on him slowly. Piece by piece falling into place, forming into a picture in his mind. Again, he raised his arm, closely examining the paperlike skin and its suddenly emaciated appearance. He was sure it hadn’t looked like that at first… Golden eyes widened in terror. “Al!” he realized out loud and took a step back. The weak leg crumbled under his weight, his knee (no no no not his, Al’s! Al’s knee---) buckled and he toppled over. Edward landed painfully on his hip, scrambling on the ground and started crawling away from the sound of the enigmatic being’s low giggles. What was going on? What did Truth mean by Al not needing his arm and leg anymore? They were going to get his body back, and he absolutely would need his limbs!  Edward had already taken so much away from his little brother, he would rather have no arms or legs at all than for Alphonse to miss a single strand of hair from his body when they got it back! Edward would not take those away from him, even if he had to sacrifice his heart to get them back to him!  The thought of his little brother’s arm and leg substituting for his own made him sick to his core. This was wrong! Determined, Edward steadied himself to a sitting position, using his healthy left arm. But, he couldn’t see Truth anywhere. In the featureless creature’s place, sat a gaunt figure, crossed-legged and sickly. Long golden hair cascaded beneath fatigue shoulders, ribs protruding from his chest, and a solemn smile on thin lips. Missing from the boy, was a right arm and left leg.  In a moment’s confusion, Edward thought it was himself that sat there. Him from some alternate reality. The Gate had changed too. Only for a moment, Edward lingered in uncertainty. The emaciated boy tilted his head and looked directly at him, and Edward felt his breath hitch. Never in his life would he mistake those hazel orbs.  “Al!” Edward shrieked as he fought to move, crawling towards his younger brother. It felt like something was pulling him back, like an invisible rubber line wanting to pull him back. The more he struggled forward, the distance between then only increased. “Alphonse, I’m so sorry! I’m so, so sorry! You will get them back, I swear!” Ed wailed, struggling forward on hands and knees. “Okay? Please say something!”  Alphonse didn’t respond. He just sat there with the same patient smile, eyes tired and so, so thin. It was like he was staring right through him, lost in the void. “Your brother’s presence in your world is weakening,” Truth’s voice rang through the empty space. Edward looked up, searching for the Godlike creature while frantically reaching for his younger brother. A rumble was heard and the ground shook. A blinding white light emitted from the slit doors that protected Alphonse’s Gate.  “No,” Ed cried distraughtly and forced himself to his feet and tried to run. “There is no use, Edward. Your brother’s soul wants to join its original vessel soon.”  Again, Edward yelled his brother’s name, ignoring the chilling voice and refusing to believe that they were already running out of time. He limped as fast as he could while stretching both of his arms (not his!) out for his brother.  The black arms wormed their way from the dizzying universe inside the Gate, starting to pull on Alphonse’s body. “No! No, please!” Edward wept and picked up his pace. “Please, don’t take him! Take me instead! I’ll do anything!” For the first time, it seemed like Alphonse really noticed him- his eyes were fixed on Ed and Ed alone. He didn’t look scared, just resolute. Like he had accepted his faith and was ready to be taken away. As dark arms tangled around his body, his smile broadened and he gave his older brother a crescent-eyed smile. “Wait! Don’t take him! Take me instead! I did it, not him! You- you can have anything--- just, please bring him back-” Ed was broken off by a heartwrenching wail of intense agony. Alphonse was screaming as the Gate tore his body apart, limbs turning black and vanishing into the surge of distorted pictures and eye shattering light. “No!” Edward collapsed to the ground, sobbing as his brother was devoured by his sin, clawing at the ground, pulling his hair out and choking on his own tears. The Gate was gone. His brother was gone. Everything had been taken away and there was nothing left. Like the space around him. Consuming everything, containing nothing. Images of Alphonse as a plump and healthy ten-year-old flickered through his thoughts, being eaten alive by those cursed arms. The panic, grief, and desperation he had felt back then were pouring through him once again and he wondered what there was left to give. What would he have to give up to get all of Alphonse back? A sudden twinge of pain seared through his abdomen. Edward startled and looked ahead stiffly. ‘What the hell?’ Again. The pain in his midsection grew until he was unable to restrain himself from screaming. He gasped for his next breath, almost vomiting while his body shook and pulsated. Downcasting his head, he finally realized what was causing the pain, all though, it did little to relieve his confusion of the situation. One of the Gates’s arms had lodged itself in his stomach, penetrating it through and through. There was something strangely familiar with it, but Ed’s mind was too clouded to think, to process. All his muddled brain could do, was to wonder what the arm was reaching for.  Then, it yanked back, painstakingly slowly and Ed cried out again. His vision faded in and out, white turning black and back to white, as the foreign object was drawn out of him. A faint flashback of a pair of large, strong hands holding his shoulders still, and the musky smell of gun powder mixed with wet clothing and blood. Edward also remembered the cold, biting at his fingers and toes, but brushing pleasantly against his feverish cheeks. The only other sensation than pain at the moment. “Edward?” ‘Not you again,’ Edward thought furiously. ‘Have you not taken enough from me?’ But his lips wouldn’t move. Now that he thought about it, neither could he. “Edward, can you open your eyes?” It didn’t sound like Truth- Truth’s voice was shrieking, almost feminine, and violently unpleasant. This voice was deep and grumbly, like a large man’s. Almost like Armstrong’s (oh god please don’t be Armstrong). Little by little, whatever that had taken toll of his body let go, and Edward stirred. Flickering eyelashes tickled his cheeks as his eyes fluttered open (he didn’t remember when he had closed them). He awoke in a small room. The bed he had been put it was hard, but at this point, his throbbing body was appreciative of anything that didn’t involve moving. Narrow, black eyes peered down on him, as an enormous hand scratched at brown, bushy sideburns. A little behind him stood another man, approximately the same size as the first one, with a yellow mustache that rivaled Armstrong’s own. The past day’s events rushed back to him. About Alphonse leaving to meet Winry and Scar’s group, the confrontation with Kimblee and the chimeras, the mineshaft, and the alchemy that had taken years off his lifespan to seal his wound. Looking down, he saw that his midsection had been heavily bandaged, and he rested a hand over where the two chimeras had pulled the bar out after he helped them and sighed. It had just been a bad dream. There was nothing to worry about…right?

[cry-stars]

Kimvy drabble challenge part 5

19. — fireworks

“That was gorgeous, Crimson.”

Envy can’t tell whether his cheeks are flushed from the desert heat or from their compliments. (Maybe it’s both).

“It could have been better,” he says carelessly, and claps his hands again. Crimson sparks light up the air, and thunder roars, and the buildings below erupt into a sea of ashes, dust flying a hundred feet into the air.

“Could have been better?” Envy scoffs. They stretch upward, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Then prove it. Show me your best.”

It’s satisfying, seeing his expression shift slowly from blank to darkly grinning. “If you insist.”

08. — rules

“You’re not allowed to talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

They’re playing innocent, when they’re anything but. It’s almost infuriating. “You know very well.” Kimblee says calmly, eyes fixed on his book. Envy isn’t currently allowed the luxury of eye contact. “I don’t appreciate you blaming my shortcomings on my humanity.”

“Aww, Crimson. You are human. You need reminding, sometimes.”

Kimblee flips the page; he’s reread the lines five times and remembers none of them. “Perhaps you’re the one who needs reminding.”

There’s a heavy silence. Kimblee doesn’t need to look at Envy’s face to know what they’re thinking.

04. — numb

“The fool. They shouldn’t have toyed with Mustang. Although, I would have acted the same, if I’d been there instead.”

Lust’s voice wavers. 

Kimblee should say something to comfort her, but he’s so tired.

Her hand rests against his shoulder—although he can’t feel it. Would he notice if her Spear pierced him? Pain would be better than this void.

“Your father couldn’t…?” The sound of his voice surprises him.

“No. Envy’s… gone.” Her smile is hollow. “You loved them, didn’t you? Poor thing.”

“Yes. But so did you.”

“We’re both so human,” she laughs bitterly.

 They sit numbly together, silent.

15. — afterlife

He should be dead. 

Blood, his blood, is smeared across Envy’s skin, but not as much as there should be, and it hurts, but not as much as it should, and — 

“Don’t talk,” Envy whispers sharply, and Kimblee obeys. “You’re alright,” they murmur. “I… won’t let…”

Their concern would be adorable if it weren’t for the tears gathering in their eyes. He wants to say something, but he has no strength, no voice. He can only lie still, can only feel: Envy’s fingers digging into his shirt, Envy’s breathing, ragged and uneven, Envy’s mouth, cold, pressed against his cheek.

16. — daybreak

The light never completely fades, now that Father holds a Sun in his hand. But the ordinary sun still rises, and sunbeams still stream through the window.

If Kimblee wakes up, he’ll want to get to work immediately. There is so much to do, after all. So Envy stays as still as possible, barely breathing, feeling his warmth.

It’s almost uncomfortable, being close to him like this. A part of Envy wants to escape, to run away and pretend that he doesn’t exist. But his heart is beating steadily in Envy’s ear, a needed reminder that he’s alive, and theirs.

[fullmetalwritings]

would you be willing to do one of those soulmate writings with kimblee? your work is amazing, thank you so much!!!

Read on AO3

The marks scare you from the day you find them on your palms. It doesn’t take a genius to recognize the symbols, alchemical in meaning but lost to you in details. They sit on the skin of your hands, revealing themselves in a slow, dripping flow of dark ink over the course of a few days after your 18th birthday.

You sought out the meaning of the symbols from several family friends, but few of them could give you any insight on their meaning, and you were too nervous to try them out in any actual motion for a year or so after finding them. Afraid of what they would do, who they might hurt–you had only a basic understanding of Alchemy as a science or practice, so to try and figure them out through trial and error would only produce more questions than anything else.

They didn’t hamper your day-to-day life though, and over several years you found yourself happily living in an apartment in Central City, the marks long-since forgotten. They became no more than conversation starters than anything else, people catching a glance of them on the train or on the street and asking if they were your own or your soul mate’s.

Soul mate. You wondered what kind of person they were, if they had tattoos like that on their hands. They had to be alchemists, all things considered, but it threw you for a loop and a half to try and figure out what kind of alchemist they were since you couldn’t decipher much of the marks. 

Traveling was something you found enjoyment in soon after moving to Central City. The fare of the train was cheap to travel south, so you often found yourself visiting Rush Valley, Dublith and even South City whenever you had the spare days to take from work to do so. It was calming, exploring the country, and it led you to meeting all sorts of interesting people and, of course, they would all find interest the the marks on your palms.

The man who you had struck up a conversation with was much the same.

“Your soul mate must be an alchemist,” he said, tone polite and gentle. “But what do you think about it?”

He seems very kind, perhaps a buisiness man of some sort. He wears a white suit, clean and pressed of wrinkles. While it may stand out in some way, you can’t help but like the cleanliness of it, his appearance, especially when it’s so stark against his long black hair. It’s tied back loosely, but let you catch the gaze of the man’s bright blue eyes every now and again as the two of you speak.

“Well,” you say. “I hope that my soul mate is someone who is a good person, who uses their alchemy to seek out knowledge and learn more about the world.”

You can’t help but feel his gaze even when you’re not looking over at him beside you. It’s hard on you, unmoving, but it doesn’t unnerve you. It feels…curious? Firmer than most, at least, and you’re not sure why his interest and close proximity in the seat directly next to you isn’t making you feel uncomfortable.

You’ve felt your share of unnerving men and women alike, but he is….comforting? Odd to describe a stranger in that way, but it felt appropriate.

He flashes you a smile, knocking you out of your thoughts. You were staring at him.

“I’m–I’m sorry,” You say to fix your momentary lack of manners. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s not a problem,” He murmurs, gently adjusting the white gloves over his hands.. “I’m not bothered by it any. Your thoughts seem to be weighing on you after all.”

You take a moment to compose yourself and let out a breath. You can feel his shoulder bumping against your own.

“You just feel….” 

“Familiar?”

The word catches you off-guard, finishing your sentence perfectly. 

“Yes. You feel familiar, but I know I’ve never met you.” You shift in your seat, not sure if you’re being impolite or awkward by the sudden shift in the conversation. The two of you had to have been talking for twenty minutes before your thoughts had begun to sour it.

Silence filled the air between the two of you.

It must have lasted for several minutes. After some time you figured that the conversation was over, and you had turned your head to stare out the window, watching the scenery fly by to frame the setting sun. The sight is rather beautiful, but the sound of the man’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts for a second time.

“…What if your soul mate isn’t someone who seeks knowledge with their alchemy?”

You blink. When you turn your face towards the man, you find him staring at you; how long had he been looking?

“Wh-….what?” The question falls from your lips in a whisper. You’re still trying to catch what he’s getting on about.

The man’s gaze hardens, and his expression is hard to read beyond seeming neutral. 

“What if your soul mate isn’t a good man? What if he had done terrible things in the eyes of others in his life? What if, whether he wanted to make amends or not for his actions, your soul mate was not the pure-hearted alchemist you seem to hope for?”

There is weight in the questions. Heavy weight. These aren’t the questions you’re used to, ones that normal strangers ask. These are heavy questions, ones that thinly-hide a level of connection behind them to the man asking them. Between the solemn tone of the man’s voice and his hard gaze on you, you can’t find the will to answer. Instead, your mouth opens and closes uselessly as you try to find the words or thoughts to even begin to form an answer.

By the time you’re any closer to a response, the man is already pulling off the white gloves. The motion seems unrelated, but then–

You catch the sight of familiar marks on the palms of both the man’s hands. Marks that you remember seeing years ago, marks of mystery and intrigue that, even currently, lay on your own palms.

The man sitting next to you is your soul mate.

He looks at you as you slowly come to the realization, watching in such a level of intrigue as a predator might of prey. Tension fills the air, but you feel no poison in his gaze, no harm in his eyes. Curiosity, apathetic curiosity is all you feel at first between you both. 

The questions begin to make sense, giving you a shallow, but concrete sense of who the man was sitting next to you. What the marks meant and what they meant of the man himself. 

Though you had a plethora of further questions, you let out a breath and began with only one:

“…What is your name?”

“Solf. J. Kimblee,” he said, watching your breath catch at the sound of the name. Regardless, he must not have found the fear, the apprehension or terror that he might have been expecting. His face slowly morphs into a look of satisfaction and amusement. “I suppose that means we have a lot of questions to answer for one another.”

You take in a slow breath, then glance towards the window and the setting sun outside, flickering from the constant, passing trees and small hills as the train ran on through the countryside. 

“We do have several hours more on this train, after all.” You look back at Kimblee, at his hands, and then at your own. There were certainly stories that came with the man’s name, but you felt no fear under his bright, blue eyes–only curiosity. Intrigue. “I’ll save my judgement on you being a terrible man until after then.”

“I find that very fair,” Kimblee said, a smirk growing on his lips.

[regnantlight]

@creepiitus​ liked for a mushy drabble. 

    “...Solf. Could I ask you for something?” 

    “Hm?” Solf J. Kimblee opened opened one eye as he turned his head toward her, a single brow raised in question. Zelda opened her mouth to continue, felt the words shy away in her throat, and shot her gaze back down to the covers as she tried to piece together what it was she wanted to ask. Solf let out what sounded like an amused huff of breath and said, without malice, “Does the cat have your tongue, Little Princess?” 

    She swatted lightly at his arm in retort. “I’m just— trying to decide how best to phrase it.” Zelda gave the words one last careful chew before she breathed past the light flush of her cheeks, looked up to Solf, and asked, “Would it be alright if we...held each other? Like before?” 

    Back was Solf’s raised brow, but it was quickly replaced with an easy, somewhat self-satisfied smile as he lifted his arm to grant her access. “Certainly, Your Highness. You needn’t ask.” 

     Zelda, with only mild hesitation, moved in close, resting her head and a lightly curled fist atop his chest, shifting in subtle little movements until she finally rested and closed her eyes. It would only last for a short bit, however, before her green gaze peered out again, and she spoke on the edge of a little breath. 

    “There is a spot, right here,” she nuzzled her head for emphasis, “that is incredible nice to lay against...” 

    “Really?” Solf’s amusement seemed to continue. Zelda disregarded it. 

    “Yes,” she said, as though explaining a fact. “Something about the inward curve of your chest right here seems to simply— fit. Like a pillow that conforms to ones head. Have you ever tried one of those?” 

    He was quiet for a moment, then gave a light yawn. “Yes, I have. They’re comfortable.” 

     “I didn’t know...I didn’t know that another person could be that comfortable. It’s...nice.” 

     “...Hm.” 

     There was another bout of silence, and this time, it stretched on as Zelda fell asleep, the warmth and comfort and strum of Solf’s heartbeat doing their part to lull her into a peaceful rest. She did not awake until many hours later.  

[nyxelestia]

Last Ten First Lines Meme

Post the first line of your last 10 published fics, then tag 10 people. I was tagged by @demonzdust​ and @princeescaluswords.

10 Lines

1. Weaving in the Wind (Spider-Man - MCU/Tom Holland Movies; post-Far From Home)

The first time Happy ever saw May cry was as they watched Peter’s face get plastered all over the news.

2. Ocelli (Spider-Man - Sony/Andrew Garfield Movies; Captain Stacy Lives)

Listening to the interview from another room, George had to give the kid credit - for all that he claimed to be a bad liar, he was doing a pretty good job of it right now.

3. The Most Magical Place on Earth (BBC Merlin; Modern AU, Prince Arthur and Prime Minister’s son Merlin)

Merlin could hear a shift in the jet engine beneath his feet just as he finished washing up his hands in the tiny lavatory sink.

4. Deleted Scene 3: Beyond the Dark (MCU + Young Avengers; Ant-Man with teenage/Stature!Cassie Lang)

Scott sighed. "Look, Mr. Pym, I appreciate this, really. Especially the whole not pressing charges against me for robbing your house thing. But I risked my job enough as it is just to do that-"

5. Deleted Scene 2: Alternate Reality (MCU + Young Avengers + Spider-Man, Sony/Garfield; AU of TASM 2)

Peter's and Harry's dads' promo video about the spider research came to an end.

6. Pack Mama Bear (Teen Wolf; Protective!Melissa 5 + 1 fic)

Melissa wasn’t sure why she was so surprised at the big smile on Scott’s face when she’d told him about kissing Chris in the Ghost Riders’ station.

7. Welcome Home (Teen Wolf; Drabble. Prompts: crack, rainstorm, teeny.)

Scott didn’t have to be a meteorologist to know the lightning cracking open the sky was impossible.

8. Keep Your Heart With All Vigilance (Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood; “All 7 Homunculi combine with humans” AU)

It didn’t matter how long Roy stared at the empty hospital bed, Hughes didn’t reappear in it.

9. By Your Own Shield-Straps (Teen Wolf + MCU/Captain America; three-shot of the S2 Hale Pack)

In the shadowed evening, after the sunset plunged the world into darkness but before the moon lit it back up again, Erica crept between backyards, coming to a halt outside her target.

10. Animal Instincts (Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood; 5 + 1 Chimera Dads missing scenes)

It could’ve been a moment since Kimblee destroyed the mineshaft, or it could’ve been a day; Kurt Heinkel would not have been able to tell anyone as he swam in and out of consciousness, let alone figure out how he was going to get himself out of this mess.

I tag...

1.) @overzelos 2.) @liliaeth 3.) @clotpolesonly 4.) @argentum-ls 5.) @mute90 6.) @pantherx1412 7.) @allthings10blue10 8.) @venus-strikes-again 9.) @chaifootsteps 10.) @luthienluinwe

[kimiles]

Kimblee/Miles Fic Recs

I decided to compile a list of some of my favorite Kimblee/Miles fics. There aren’t a ton, because there aren’t that many Kimiles fics out there anyway, but here are some good ones!

You Learn Something New Every Day by Inundation (ffnet) Rating: K+/General | Chapters: 16 | Word Count: 1,838 Summary: While keeping an eye on Kimblee, Miles learns a few things about him. A series of drabbles.

Warmth by frozenCinders (ao3) Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 2 | Word Count: 3,552 Summary: "I'm sensitive to the cold," Kimblee says. "Could you tell?"Miles pointedly ignores him. What he's forgetting is that Kimblee has the power to punish him, even for something so petty. He finds out when he receives the news that he's meant to be sharing a room with Kimblee, all of a sudden.

Fortuitous by frozenCinders (ao3) Rating: Teen | Chapters: 1 | Word Count: 1,283 Summary: It's adorable, how Miles's first instinct is to protect. When fight or flight kicks in and he's short a gun, he doesn't throw a punch or turn tail and run; his first reaction is to throw his arm out in front of Kimblee. Kimblee is immensely amused by this.

12 Minutes by frozenCinders (ao3) Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 1 | Word Count: 1,125 Summary: "I don't have time to humor you," he says. It feels a little like a lie, since-"Yes you do. You're early," Kimblee points out. Miles passively lets him take the shirt he'd just picked up out of his hand and put it back on the hanger."By a few minutes. You're going to make me late. Again."Kimblee smiles at him. (Same AU as the fic Fortuitous)

Defrosting by Nice_Valkyrie (ao3) Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 1 | Word Count: 2,021 Summary: Miles doesn’t see the point in denying himself. Maybe he’ll learn more than he anticipates.

Heavy Sleeper by frozenCinders (ao3) Rating: General | Chapters: 1 | Word Count: 437 Summary: Miles isn't exactly much of a cuddler, not when it comes to Kimblee. But he seems to enjoy it well enough while he's "asleep".

Heads or Tails by frozenCinders (ao3) Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 2 | Word Count: 3,572 Summary: Solf J. Kimblee: infamous vampire and annoying coworker. Miles doesn't have anywhere near the reputation Kimblee does; doesn't care to. It's better not to go around flashing your fangs at humans, after all. The only problem is, he's fairly certain even Kimblee has no idea that Miles is also a vampire. Thinks he might be mistakenly seeing him as prey.

Honey? There goes the doorbell by Pomodoridori (ao3) Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 1 | Word Count: 1,911 Summary: Kimblee makes some questionable decisions. Miles enjoys himself more than he was expecting (and makes questionable decisions too).

Cat and Canary by Suzume (ao3) Rating: General | Chapters: 1 | Word Count: 1,729 Summary: Major Miles, Kimblee thought, was deserving of a little more of his attention.

also shamelessly going to plug my own fic because who doesn’t want more kimiles

The Upper Hand by MrTrumpet (ao3) Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 1 | Word Count: 5,625 Summary: A slight canon deviation set during the Briggs Arc. Miles is equal parts intrigued and disgusted by Kimblee, whereas Kimblee simply finds Miles fascinating. Maybe they'll both find a way to indulge that fascination...

[poursomesunaonme]

THANK U FOR THE TAG TOPHY BABEEEEY cut the reblogs bc she was gettin thiccy

(omitting all the requests i've been doing and sticking w fics and the drabbles i do on my own)

1. untitled wip (x gojo)

You sigh, rubbing Satoru’s back as he kneeled in front of the toilet, bracing against the ground for balance.

2. your throne (x sukuna)

Your heart leapt to your throat at the other maiden’s sudden beckoning.

3. the suburbs (x levi)

the neatly trimmed lawn and the pretty picket fences were starting to make you sick.

4. out under the stars (x toji)

you couldn’t help that sleep failed to drown you in its bliss.

5. thunderstorms (x megumi)

“ah, shit!” megumi exclaimed as the both of you slid into the seats of the car, slamming the doors shut as soon as all of your limbs were inside.

6. each pray'r forgotten and each wish resign'd (wip) (x gojo)

Everything feels so normal.

7. untitled epistolary (x toji)

My dearest Lily,

Oh, how I miss you already!

8. plundering the captain's heart (x toji)

“y/n!” hazel called out to you from behind the bar. “look who’s back!”

9. playing the game (squid game au) (x gojo)

the screams of the players echoed around the large room despite the thick glass that separated them from the VIPs.

10. when a want becomes a need (x armin)

the atmosphere was simply electric as you knocked back a shot of something spicy.

11. father gojo!

father gojo is the most charismatic man of the diocese - so charming that you’d think he was jesus christ himself.

12. makeouts w kenma

kozume kenma is the type of person to savor any kind of pleasure he experiences, whether that’s taking a few extra seconds to chew a yummy dinner or rewind a show to get another look at a well-produced scene.

13. size matters (x mahito)

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. this isn’t real.

14. friends. just friends (x eren)

The movie droned on in the background.

15. hate you, want you (wip) (x kimblee)

you keep your eyes downcast as the guard leads you down the long corridor.

16. chapter 5 of saw you in a dream (yes i'm working on it thank you)

Your eyes opened.

17. temptation (wip) (gojo x reader x geto)

the sizzling that drifts up from the grill is perfectly in sync with the tension buzzing around the three of you.

18. friends. just friends (part 2!) (wip) (x eren)

the stream of people push past eren as they exit the classroom.

19. a dream upon waking (wip) (x jean)

So close.

20. absence of innocence (wip) (x nanami)

he looks so handsome with the wedding ring glinting brightly on his finger.

hmmmm my favs… 3 - starts lots of personal commentary that im not sorry for hehe; 11 - no explanation i just love it so much; 20 - hurts, dont it?

taggin: @saccharine-darling @sinnerofthewalls @ob-levi-on @the-princess-button @aces-high & anyone else who wants!!

First Sentence Game

ooooh so i saw this and thought it could be really fun, so;

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have fewer than 20, just list them all!) from oldest first. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. 

1. Tug

It’s a Friday evening, and Eijiro has been practicing hard in his room since dinner.

2. what i mean

It’s Friday evening, and they’re both in Katsuki’s room. 

(oh god please don’t let this be a pattern woeighog)

3. (not) like this

Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t really have any secrets.

4. glamorous

Shouto is following the sparring session religiously, eyes jumping back and forth over the arena, mouth hid behind his interlocking hands as he watches Utsushimi Camie and Bakugou Katsuki fighting.

5. Lying, Still

Katsuki absolutely hates lying, he really does.

6. Even if the world was ending now (ongoing)

The rain is coming down hard outside, and it’s cold as fuck, but at least he’s found shelter in the form of a half-rotten greenhouse on the top of a barely accessible building looking out over the abandoned city.

7. Bubblegum

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Mina exclaims, looking like she’s already won the battle with the way she’s grinning brightly down at her.

8. you with the angry eyes

“Sorry for being late!” Eijirou quickly apologizes as he bows to Present Mic, before hurriedly finding his seat.

9. Serenity (ongoing)

“You’re terrible at your job, and I would fire you all in an instance if I could,” a voice announced from the kitchen, and Eijirou absently slapped Mina’s pink, manicured fingers away from his own red hair.

10. delirious 

Kaminari is pacing the apartment, setting out snacks and drinks as he urges Katsuki to make himself useful and at least pick out a movie.

BONUS (currently writing) 11. untitled 

Kirishima Eijirou is probably the only person who truly drives Katsuki crazy, in the way that he doesn’t.

phew, i got scared at the start there, yikes. rule of three, though!  idk my favourite is probably nr 6 or 11 hmm

idk if you guys would wanna do this, but i found it really fun, so i’ll just tag @lostlitany  @sleepy-chaos <3

[meowkavian]

flowers (drabble)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20157115

not tes, sorry y’all. ;; oc/canon -ish, tw blood/discussion of violence and gore.

drabble between a oc i’ve had for years and kimblee.