
Andulka
AnasAbdin

Kiana Khansmith

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almost home

titsay
🪼
dirt enthusiast

Love Begins

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
wallacepolsom

oozey mess
we're not kids anymore.
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
styofa doing anything
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
h
cherry valley forever
YOU ARE THE REASON
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@acediasin

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Art by タクアン.
Don’t remove source.
the old religion - florence + the machine
continuing from x post with @alchemic-elric!
sloth may not have known greed the longest, yet judging by his impulsive behavior and need to callously brawl with the other homunculi, it was safe to assume his end was met by his own foolishness. to sloth, the need to get riled up brings no purpose. unlike the others, her apathy might just be her only saving grace.
" don't make you? " sloth comments, the clack of her heels coming to a brief halt. " interesting choice of words. so you don't intend to kill me? " it's either kill, or be killed. " then again," the homunculus pauses, eyes softening; voice masking with a tinge of sadness, " i've already died once, haven't i? "

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oh who is she? a misty memory—a haunting face; is she a lost embrace? private / low activity / side blog for sloth: fma '03 ( about & rules! )
Who Is She? // I Monster
oh, who is she? a misty memory a haunting face is she a lost embrace?
fma/mythology- sloth as pandora
the sins were already there, she knows. they had always been there and would have found their way out somehow if not for her. because they had been named and would have been named no matter who had been created. she was created as a carrier for them, she thinks. but most times she’s not sure why she was created in the first place. why is she here? does it matter? likely not. these sins were meant to be here. and everything else still inside is outside of her control. like the rest of it. it’s still there but she can’t use it to make it better either. it’s not her fault, but if it was, she wouldn’t care. maybe if it was her fault it would feel better. then it would at least feel like she can do something as herself- like she can define her own self.
everything is broken. because of you, a voice whispers but it doesn’t matter and she doesn’t care. because it was all made to be broken.
alchemic-elric:
It’s hard to argue with that face. It’s hard to argue with that voice and those eyes even if they are the wrong color. It’s hair to argue with her because he knows what she truly is. He knows that at the end of the day that she’s his failure and now because of that failure they’re in danger. Alphonse is in danger. How can he make this any worse?
He can’t let her touch him. He can’t let her near him or he’s dead. She’s using those damn nicknames again. She’s declaring herself something she clearly isn’t because his mother would never speak to him like this.
“Yer not my mother. I wouldn’t talk ta Mom like this an’ she’d never take that tone with me. Yer just’a fraud.” He hisses trying to keep himself in that mindset.
He’s got to keep himself in that mindset. He desperately needs to keep himself there because if he doesn’t he could fall victim to her games - he could fall victim to the need to be wrapped up in his mother’s arms.
He…he misses her so much.
a fraud, he says. of course; this isn’t sloth’s role to play. their mother had long since perished, therefore, she’s nothing more than a doppelganger, a mistake, a ghostly reminder of their misgivings. the curl along her lips drop, indifference glossing over her eyes by his reminder. “ that hurts. ” she then pauses, giving him a darting stare. “ even mothers have their limits, edward. ” especially those who appeared all holier than thou. she takes a step forward, as if trying to size him up. in truth, manipulating the older alchemist might take extra effort. her actions must be calculated. even as she wears the face of his beloved mother, does he have the heart to attack her? sloth takes another step, head canting to the side. “ how about you be a good boy and come with me now? aren’t you tired of running? ”

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Realized I forgot to post this one!
living proof
I’m chemical, that’s all, that is all

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alchemic-elric:
He turns at the sound of her voice. Her voice - it was a voice he hadn’t heard in so long. Five years. Five long years without her. He’s - he’s missed her. He’s longed to hear her call out to him. He’s longed to be special to someone again. He’s longed to be someone’s….everything.
But Trisha Elric is dead.
“Shut yer fuckin’ mouth.” He snarls at her.
that voice isn’t your’s to use.
“I’m not yer little prince. I’m not in the mood ta play any’hin’ with you.”
I miss you.
She’s not real. She’s not your mother Edward, get a grip. Get a fucking grip. She’s just a monster. A homunculus. She’s a twisted monster that you created now clean up your fucking mess.
Hold me.
Why did it have to end up like this? Edward you have to kill her. You have to kill her because you’re the one responsible for this. You have to kill her before she hurts Alphonse.
I can’t.
oh no, did she touch a soft spot? painted lips only lift further to taunt him. “ my, aren’t you cruel. that’s no way to speak to your mother. ” allowing the alchemist’s words to phase through her, only pity washes over the homunculus as she comes face-to-face with him. it’s easy, she thinks, to play with him. he is too rigid, too easily triggered by her. good, she notes. only then is it easier to keep him trapped like this. “ is my little man too grown up to play games? you’ve been playing being a state alchemist for sometime now. ”
@alchemic-elric
“ ah, there you are my little prince, ” sloth mocks with the slightest tinge of faux sweetness to rile under his skin, “ playing a game of hide-and-seek, are we? ”