there is so much intimacy in creating something together

The Londoner | Somerset, United Kingdom. 

good morning, riza

never would riza think there is anything alphonse or his brother have anything to thank her for. if anything she and everyone else are forever indebted to both of them for the rest of their lives.and while trying to understand him is the least she could do — even if one could never truly imagine what was it like to have one's soul ripped away from their body, the feeling os strangeness in one's own body is not entirely unfamiliar to riza. for that, she does not need to try. still, she accepts alphonse's kindness with a soft smile and an acknowledging nod.

“your brother has certainly left an impression.” riza concedes with subtle humor. “i don't believe it's morbid at all,” she pauses for half a second, as though re-considering her own stance though ultimately does not backtrack on her stated opinion. “it's an impressive thing, i think. it takes a lot of resilience and fortitude, you should cherish it. feeling tormented in your thoughts is exhausting.” she doesn't elaborate further on that thought, but the tone of her voice gives away the level of familiarity between the lieutenant and a head full of thoughts on the spoils of war — the opposite of peaceful in every shape or form. there is no point in dwelling on it, there is only moving on.

“i am...” she pauses again, this time considering her words carefully before giving out her unfiltered thoughts. she has been known to be blunt in her honesty, perhaps to a fault. truth has burdened alphonse enough for a lifetime. “i'm tentatively looking forward to the future, yes. we've got many plans and new objectives previously thought impossible.” there are concerns and anxiety involved as well, none worth mentioning at this time. “have you thought about what would you like to do in the future?”

She's uncomfortable with his deduction, and it only cements the truth in it for him. Riza Hawkeye is kin, if not in blood, then in burden. Because she too bears the sins of her brilliant father, in just as much capacity as he and Edward do. He wishes it were easier for them, these former dogs of war, to find their peace. But it seems as elusive as the fireflies that gather in the yard come nightfall, beautiful in theory yet much too fragile for unsteady bloodied hands to cup. Alphonse himself feels no more a hero than she does in the grand scheme of things. Survival as a child, as the sentient suit of armor he'd been had marked him differently. But then…Wasn't burden the same language at the end of the day? Perhaps it's simply their duty to carry it with grace.

He thinks, knowing what he does now, that not much would change. In any other universe, Edward and he would still adore their mother too much to leave things well enough alone. Green eyes flicker over to a grassy Knoll and drink in the sight greedily. The vibrant color of full blooms, the lazy bumble bees fluttering about, relish the feel of a cool breeze, despite the fact that exposed skin erupts in gooseflesh. Alphonse is himself—this body—and soul will never fracture. 

The lieutenant thanks him after a long pause, and he can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth—a hint of dimple in his left cheek. "Thank you for understanding me." gracious and well mannered per usual, but it's a layered gratitude. Alphonse spares an amused chortle her words. "You've taken a page from brother's book, I see." A momentary grimace follows her well intentioned remark. "If I do any more sleeping, I might be inclined to vegetate. Thinking was all I had for a long time...Is it morbid to say it's my version of peace?"  He's pensive again, briefly before grasping for the cane propped to his left. A temporary measure, until he's remastered the art of balance.

"Do you look forward to the future?"

Vienna, 2024

Anett Éva

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒

bold what applies to your muse italics if there's potential / it's dependent on external factors cross out if there's no potential under any circumstances. repost, don't reblog.

holding hands | buying flowers | cooking | cuddles | writing a poem / song | holding door open | tying shoe laces | sharing a milkshake with two straws | offering their jacket when it's cold | kissing in the rain | publicly confessing love | long walks at the beach | doing the titanic pose on a boat | taking cute pictures in a photobooth | sharing a cab | kissing the back of their hand (!!!!!!) | slow dancing | getting tickets of their favourite artist / sports team / other | introducing them to their parents | lighting candles | flower petals on bed | love letters | star gazing | brushing / doing their hair | picnics | teaching them to play an instrument / a sport while gently guiding their hands | compliments | late night drives | taking selfies together | drawing them | self - made gifts | massages | proposing with a family heirloom ring | lending them their favourite book to read | paying for dinner / coffee | mixtapes / playlists | surprise birthday parties | feeding them | handing them keys to their house | making space in drawer for their clothes when they stay over | sharing a blanket | couple costumes | tucking a hair strand behind their ear | running after them at the airport / keeping them from leaving | moving cities to be together | blowing a kiss | breakfast in bed | defending them in a fight (verbally / physically) | joint bubble baths | dropping the l - bomb ("i love you") | dedicating a song at the karaoke bar to them | wearing their clothes | yawning before putting an arm around them while watching a movie | grant them the last bite from a meal

send me a topic to write a meta about my muse on

I might write anything from a paragraph to a whopping essay, but send me something you’ve noticed about my characterisation or just something you want to know about my muse and I will write what I can!

Mustafah Abdulaziz

𝕯&𝕯 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

more 'highlights' in a section indicate who your character will vibe with more / would be best class suited for them if they weren't what they are now.

𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧: toothy grins, stories around the campfire, clothes covered in pet hair, hot temper, old jeans, heartbeat in head, potatoes and steak, beaded jewelry, bruises like galaxies, mementos, backpack stuffed full, craigslist furniture, spontaneous road trips, air ripped from lungs.

𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐝: homemade bread, white lies, easily excited, trying on hats, band geek, pep talks, no impulse control, sunsets, vintage fashion, long showers, selfies, following dreams, rosy cheeks, song mash-ups, pink lemonade with tequila, loves easily, animated storyteller, full of comebacks.

𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜: list of wishes, biting their tongue, band-aids and neosporin, shoulder to cry on, morning sun, necklaces, trial and error, homemade quilts, formal clothing, astrology fan, messages in bottles, pleated braids, speaking up for friends, feathers, motivational quotes, vivid dreams.

𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐝: bird watching, shy kid, wind chimes, trying to whistle, summer camp, apple orchards, lost in their head, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, hoodies, thrift shopping, saving worms off the sidewalk, pig latin, bare feet, thunderstorms, numb fingers, braided hair, naming potted plants.

𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫: goose bumps, leather jackets, adventure, chewing nails, cares deeply but can’t show it, bronze locks, no sleep, taste of iron, netflix binges, never forgets, combat boots, stories behind scars, table for one, official soundtracks, sore calves, trusts themselves the most.

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐤: always trying to be better, wanderlust, meditation, sweat pants, old photographs, yoga, sleeping in hammocks, nostalgia, minimalist design, breath of fresh air, baby animals, volunteering, perfectionist, doesn’t care about fashion, healthy snacks, noticing the little things.

𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧: school uniforms, thick jackets, sleeping with the windows open, logical advice, scrapbooking, compasses, i fight for my friends, sculpture gardens, cold morning air, big soul, likes routine, secret romantic, last to get jokes, sunflowers, practical presents, misty weather.

𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫: herbal tea, smell of rain, blinking away tears, camping trips, collecting bones, swiss army knives, first impressions, anxious thoughts, bobby pins, burnt marshmallows, too competitive, clothes lines, messenger bags, holding grudges, gets along better with animals than people.

𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: flirtatious sarcasm, candid photos, lost phone chargers, adrenaline rush, picking dirt out from beneath their nails, social chameleon, clashing clothes, self-deprecating jokes, claw machines, sits in chairs wrong, smudged eyeliner, has too many sunglasses, eats nothing or everything.

𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫: infectious laugh, family trees, shivers down their spine, lipstick and roses, mood swings, clumsy, believing in destiny, high expectations, sleeping in darkness, collection of nail polish, passionate, good grades but never studies, poetry books, blowing kisses, not knowing their own strength.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤: knowing everyone’s secrets, backpack covered in pins, envy, being in walmart late at night, earl grey, selective memory, conspiracy theories and cryptids, keysmashing, need to know basis, can’t cook, bags under eyes, experimental art, flickering bulbs, black clothing all year long

𝐰𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐫𝐝: piles of textbooks, cat in lap, keeping a diary, indecision, scented candles, studying alone in a café, lingering touches, museum dates, unanswered questions, taking on too much responsibility, collections, chalk dust, comfy robes, unnecessary apologies, coming home after a long day.

Sóller Townhouse

@platiinums / continued.

in all truth lieutenant hawkeye is not so certain about the matter of her own kindness, or lack-thereof. guilt and shame are plenty, so is remorse. kindness, however, she is simply not sure. her heart overflows with empathy and care, but it is all a little too late for it to matter. rather than objecting, alphonse's words are only met with a solemn faint smile and surrendering quietness as she gives him an acknowledging nod and allows her gaze to look away to take in their surroundings. riza wishes words wouldn't fail her the way they do, they way they always have. for the similarities she shares with the elric brothers go beyond the events they have recently survived.

how does one even begin to describe the immeasurable price they have paid for being the children of brilliant alchemists? was their innocence and childhood the price to be paid for excellence? she still does not know. their mistakes are still their own, she is sure alphonse knows this notwithstanding his young age. but perhaps, in another world where their progenitors were kinder, they all would have made better choices. alas, there is no going back in time.

“thank you for thinking that of me.”  she says earnestly, hands pulling on the dusty pink cardigan draped around her shoulders as a cool breeze brushes through.  “i suppose we can only keep moving forward and make the best out of... well, everything. you shouldn't burden yourself with these thoughts, though. your body and mind need peace and rest to heal, yes?”

an introduction to lieutenant hawkeye.

﹙ㅤ𝟑-𝟓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 .ㅤ﹚

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒:ㅤ the navy blue of her uniform, dusty pink of a cashmere sweater, the gold of her hair and warm brown of her eyes.

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒:ㅤ vanilla, warm and homey in stark contrast to how she's otherwise perceived. gunpowder, it follows her everywhere. and blood, no matter how much she tries to wash it away.

𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍: usually in uniform. ㅤlong skirts. leather boots. high / turtle necks that cover her scars. soft sweaters. cotton button ups.

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒: ㅤfirearms. a revolver and a handgun in tandem with a bolt action rifle, if possible. black hayate, not an inanimate object but he even follows her to work. dog tags, she wears her military issued identification tags even out of uniform just in case. her wedding ring, same as her dog tags.

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄:ㅤ stoic. calm and collected. cold on the surface but warm and soft inside. very quiet, also very lonely. always longing. thousand yard stare.

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒: clean cursive handwriting. a firm tone of voice. soft almost invisible smiles for those who are dear to her. night terrors about a desertic war zone. guilt guilt guilt. and shame, so much shame. and then there is hope. the green fields of the valley. repairing her childhood home from decay. the sound of happy dogs barking in unison with children playing in the backyard.

most accurate fc pics specifically because she's dressed the same way arakawa draws clothing

oops.

i want the boop badges but 1000 is so many clicks,,,,

lays on her stomach so he can gently stroke her thighs and belly and kiss her stretch marks 🥺

“sir...?”  she calls quietly as he comes into her space, more of an invitation should he have anything he wants to say than a question. her fingers instinctively find his dark hair to stroke adoringly, welcoming and encouraging his touch in return. her personal space does not feel complete without him in it.

the warm touch of his skin against hers as his cheeks press against the softness of her abdomen, fingertips that greet and part her legs at will and lips tracing where her skin has scarred. it all makes her heart feel so full, the shame haunting her almost fully fades away — even if it's just for a moment.

often times riza finds herself struggling to recognize this body as her own, as if her mind hasn't been quite able to adjust to no longer being so tangibly connected to their child after doing the work to get used to it in the first place. the ways in which her body has been marked and scarred in the past came to be out of immense trauma, adding to the feeling of strangeness that comes with physical change.

but while she can see the spoils of war and human sins in her other scars, riza can only see love in the freshly scarred stretchmarks. she can only feel love when he touches and kisses them so reverently, knowing they come from creating life together. knowing he loves her after all this time, and she loves him as well. she loves him so much so that not only would she die for him, she would go on living in spite of the pain for him too.