honeyedfandoms

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Local he's-good-now guy just trying his best, he swears!

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★ Emmm | FMA Major Arcana collection ☆ ⊳ available for purchase >> preorder ✔ republished w/permission

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be running up that road // be running up that hill // be running up that building

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The Elrics enjoying a moment of rest <3

★ patreon || website || twitter ★

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Any chance you could write something about Edward Elric (full metal alchemist) taking care of a sick reader? I hope you're enjoying the start of autumn! Can't wait to see more of your kinktober series 💜

Powerless (Edward Elric x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗱𝗸 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗶 𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀. 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗮 𝗰𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘂𝗽 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 !! :)

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

Every second of the day there is a million things swarming his mind. It starts when he wakes up, and it follows him. Everywhere he goes, he everywhere he looks. It’s there swirling around his head and occupying space. No matter how little or big the thought is- as soon as it’s gone, there’s something there to replace it. Something there to fill up space. Something to overpower it. From the very moment, he opens his eyes to the second he reaches for the key to unlock his lodgings. It’s nothing but-

  Work. 

  His research. His brother.

   Hughes. Central. 

  You. 

  What’s for dinner tonight? 

  Should he pick something up?

  Work.

  Alchemy. His research. 

  Mustang. Hawkeye.

   Havoc. Falman. Fuery. Breda. Al. 

  You. 

  Riots outside Reole. Rebuilding of Reole. 

  His research. Work.

   When was the last time he had off? 

  When was the last time he went to Resembol? 

  How has his automail been feeling? Is it time for a tune-up? 

  Granny. Winry. Hohenheim. Alphonse. 

  You. 

  Alchemy. 

  Work. Mustang. 

  The Führer. 

What more has to be done? What else can he do?

Central. 

  The library. 

  His research. 

  Work. 

  Central. 

  Alchemy. Research. 

  Work. Central. Alchemy. 

  Research. Work. Central. Alchemy-

  -until he unlocks the door. Until he pushes it open. Until he takes a look and sees it. 

  And sees you.

  Standing at the bottom of the steps to the upper level of the house. Dressed in nothing but the same nightshirt you had on this morning as your arms wrap around the stair’s banister while you weakly stand upon two legs. There’s a smile on your face as you meet his eyes and attempt to step closer. A sweet one that contrasts the dazed and sickly expression you hold. The very expression he’s afraid of. 

  The very expression he can’t help, but fear will take you.

  “Ed-” You start to say, but he doesn’t let you finish. No, he’s too busy rushing forward to meet you, haphazardly dropping the bag of books he checked out on the ground by his feet. They hit the floorboards with a hard thud but he’ll find the time to care about ruined books later. He’ll find the time to think about them when he doesn’t have to worry about you. “-oof!”

  You make a quiet sound as soon as Ed’s arms wrap around all the way around you and squeeze tight. In hindsight, he realizes he should have been a little more careful with his strength. You’ve never been a soldier. You’ve never been a fighter. And you’re hardly a suit of armor. No, you’re soft and you’re sweet and right now, you’re in no condition for anything crazy or intense. But then he reminds himself that it’s your condition that had him rushing towards you in the first place.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” He asks you. His voice is far from the scolding tone he knows he should be using on you but it’s impossible for him to bring his head away from your neck as he breathes you in. It’s impossible for him to give you a stern look or to raise his voice from the mumble that it carries as he holds you close. And it’s impossible for him to get upset with you because you’re just you. “I told you- call if you needed something. Al and I will take care of you.”

  Just you.

  You let out a soft giggle in response, no doubt finding all the attention a little bit silly. It’s cute. It’s innocent, even. Just the type of thing he needs to hear after work. But he can’t help it. He can’t help how he feels despite it all. You’re sick. There’s no doubt about it. You’re sick. Fighting off something that’s too brutal to be a common cold. But too complex to be named so easily. 

  And while every doctor he brought you told him that despite no diagnosis, you were going to be fine. That you were strong and recovery will be long but complete- he couldn’t help it. Not while he holds you as you shiver so, so subtly in his arms. Not while you breathe labor and labor until he eases you into holding onto his cloak while he supports all of your weight. And especially not while you feel as cold as death while he takes you into his arms. 

  And the truth is- this is progress. This is better than the days prior. You’re on two feet. You’re smiling. Laughing. Strong enough to make it down a flight of stairs without help. You’re improving. But that’s not enough to make him loosen his grip. That’s not enough for him to lessen his fears. Not when it comes to you. Only when it comes to you.

  “Hey.” He speaks up again when you offer no real response before turning his head and delivering a small kiss to your temple. At the same time, his left hand lowers to your hip and gives it a squeeze. Another laugh escapes you, reminding him that you’re okay now that you’re in his arms. But even still, he has to know. “Why are you downstairs? You should be in bed still. I told you to call me or Al if there was a problem. Was something wrong?”

  Again, you don’t respond right away. You go quiet. Completely quiet except for your soft breaths pressed right up against his neck. It’s a pensive silence. A silence that shows that you’re thinking carefully about what to say. Thinking carefully about what you want to tell him. And just like that, his mind begins to swarm with thoughts. Reasons why you could be so far from bed when your body is still so weak. Reasons why you were disobeying direct orders from the doctor. Reasons why you might be here instead of somewhere safer, better for you.

  Were you hurt?

  Were you in pain? Were you in more pain than a couple of days ago? 

  Did something happen? Did something scare you? 

  Did he miss your calls?

   Did Al not pick up either? 

  Did nobody else answer your calls when you needed them most? 

  Were you too cold to sleep again? Were you too hot now?

   Is your fever back? 

  Are you hungry? When was the last time you had eaten? 

  When was the last time someone checked up on you?

  Is he the only person that saw you today?

  Did someone else stop by?

  Someone that Ed knew? Someone that knew you were sick?

  Was it someone that wanted to help you? Someone that wanted to harm you?

  Did your condition worsen?

  Is this the beginning of the end? Should he have stayed home from work again today?

  Did something happen? Did someone hurt you? 

  Did something-

  “I just-” 

  Finally, you spoke.

  “I saw you coming from the window so I…” In a meager little voice, you used your words. You don’t shout like a soldier. You don’t bark like a dog. You just don’t. Your tone is quiet from lack of use and your throat is raw from sickness. Yet it has all the power in the world to stop his racing thoughts. All the power in the world to still his beating heart as he listens, as he holds, as he exists with you. “...I wanted to see you…”

  Because there are a million thoughts swarming his head every day. A million thoughts that fill up space. Yet all of them are powerless. 

  “I missed you today, Ed. I missed you.” 

Every single one of them is powerless.

  “Yeah…I missed you too.”

  Only when it comes to you.

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Choose your fighter

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[ID: bright digital art of Ed Elric in profile, reaching toward the viewer with his automail hand. Two other hands reach out as well, one a child’s, the other with long fingernails, reminiscent of how it was when it belonged to Truth. His red cloak billows off his shoulders. Behind him, Al’s armor is split open down the center, with Truth’s gateway engravings. In the open space of Al’s chest, a singular eye is bright red, the color of a philosophers stone. It hovers right above Ed’s open automail hand. End ID]

Don’t forget!

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don't forget...to have a happy october 3rd!

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greedling is such a fucking funny combo of characters. like. greed is a pathetic little meow meow trying really hard to look like a cool dude who knows what he’s doing. and ling is a cool dude who knows what he’s doing pretending to be a pathetic little meow meow and they’re both in the body of a fourteen year old

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new beginnings 

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it’s always october 3rd somewhere

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she's listening

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Okay but like... 12 year old Edward Elric being a badass and tough as hell and cursing like a sailor making everyone forget he really is just a kid until he uses little kid vocabulary or acts like a kid. Like he'll say the word "tummy" instead of stomach or only drink juice but insist it be in a coffee mug. He'll threaten death and bodily harm but insist Havoc needs a bandaid for a little cut that isn't bleeding because "it still makes it feel better, dumbass!", which is what his mom told him. Idk just Edward constantly being a child while in an adults world and the way it makes Team Mustang feel.

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could I interest you in some fullmetal alchemist

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doing alchemy in a forest at night idk just boy things