hey friends !!! i really love holidays, especially ones around winter. i used to e very sad in december but i’ve turned it around. i love giving but unfortunately i can’t afford to send everyone presents.
i’m going to be sending out cards with love for the hoidays and i would like to send some to people i’ve come to meet here !
if we chat regularly, if we thread a lot, if we plot extensively, if we send memes to eachother -
basically, if we are close or friendly in any way and you don’t mind sharing with me your name or address then please like this post !!
❝ Her hands worked like magic, the way thoe bottles flipped and turned ❞ fingers wiggled, own hands attempting to echo what she had seen. ❝ Then she told the funniest joke. I couldn’t stop laughing, I seriously almost peed myself ! ❞ For the past twenty minutes, Amelia had done nothing but sing the praises of her newest favorite bartender. ❝ I swear, we’re like soulmates or something, like she totally just gets me. ❞ Of course she was spewing all of this to her best friend, Winry Rockbell. She didn’t stop to think how this might make the other feel. ❝ But, I don’t want to fuck her. ❞ The final statement; Amelia adored her, but not in a romantic way. ❝ Her name is Eve. ❞
“ hmph. “ quincy rolls his eye, leaning against the doorframe. ash from his cigarette drops to the tile floor, just by his posted legs. there’s no sign of him budging. “ right, and i have two eyes. the fuck is your problem, amelia? “
Lips purse, mild annoyance flashing across her face as she watched the ash fall to the floor. ❝ I just cleaned up, but okay, ❞ muttered the doctor. She held a clipboard in hand as she moved to try and push past him but he was in the way of the door and her body pressed to his before she pulled back. ❝ Are you gonna move ? ❞ She sounded impatient; her eyes narrowed when he spoke and she sighed. The last time she saw him she’d remembered - very briefly - literally ripping his clothes off to the point of his buttons rolling across the floor then immediately falling asleep straddling him. She’d been so drunk and maybe she was a little ashamed of how she behaved. So what better way to deal with it, then avoid him. ❝ Are you wounded, Mr. Fey ? Or should I give you a reason to be treated ? ❞
Was it unfair to treat him this way after she had acted ? Yes, but Amelia was a selfish creature; she did what benefited her and her alone.
His back unmarked by time or hatred - the more her fingers travelled along his untouched skin, the more she could feel marks long disappeared. He was a statue; cold, pale, and perfect. Deep within stone flesh was a heart where those marks lived. A heart she longed to touch and to hold and to care for – but that heart had long since been locked away, to keep it safe, to keep it from ever being harmed again. She could see his pain, feel it – especially with his hands around her neck.
He had turned, long digits wrapped around her racing pulse. Her eyes closed as she allowed him to squeeze – she ventured too far, to a place he longed to forget, to not feel. She managed to slip into every crack that splintered across his skin, lines like cobwebs and she was seeping into each fissure. He could feel her there, warm and safe, but that offered a terror he didn’t want to feel. The consequences of letting her in were ones he could not handle. She was a human and all humans were the same; they were selfish creatures who thought of nothing but themselves and she would hurt him, let him down, destroy him - then he’d have to kill her and lose everything he had ever really wanted.
She longed to see what was really inside of him, the pain he tried to bury – she knew nothing of him and the suffering he had endured, the suffering that had shaped a monster. Pleas on the tip of her tongue for him to show her, show her those scars that he’d never shown anyone else. She wanted to know who had hurt him and how, even though it would fill her with unrest and a loathing that could never be satiated because the ones that had hurt him must be long gone because he was eternal; immortal. She’d have no chance to avenge him.
He owned a heart that never quite knew how to break into pieces that could be put back together, she could cut herself on his fragments and splinters but she could not put him back together. His parts were too sharp, they stabbed and cut and she bled over them, so willingly, droplets of love on each piece he let her handle.
Her hand came around his as she felt his grip ease; she forced him to squeeze harder, tiny gasps slipping from parted lips. Kill me, she begged, if it would make you happy, kill me. But these were words he didn’t hear because she was too scared to speak them, frightened of the answer he’d give or if she’d only breathe one last time after speaking them.
Death was not something she feared because she slept in his arms every night he came after dark. But death would part them and she wanted to be with him as much as she possibly could. She wanted to die, to feel a last cold embrace before eyes shut to the world – but sometimes she wanted to live and it was for him. Every breath that filled her lungs was taken for him, so she could see him another night, feel him another night.
He pulled his hand from her throat and she reached to entangle their fingers, another plea – a different plea. Stay. Her lips on his. Stay. She would beg him if she had to, she knew how much he liked it when she begged. Every chance he got to witness and exert his power over her, gave him a high he could never find anywhere else. There was so much here that he could not find anywhere else; a feeling of completeness, a monster to match his own, a feeling of home in the arms of a woman who claimed she loved him. But what was love if not a selfish wanting? It was so human to love and he was above that.
Stay.
He could hear the words she did not speak as if she was singing them in his head. He could read her like a dusty page. There was nothing new in her eyes, just an unending river of feeling he could never bring himself to understand. Overflowing with emotion – tumbling over the threshold and sliding down her cheeks. He brushed at a single tear and he felt her lips press to the pad of his thumb, retaking possession of her emotion. It was salty on her tongue. If he would not cry, then she would cry for the both of them. She would feel his pain and make it her own, she would terrorize herself with a hatred that saw no end. She would become him, she could become his everything, she would become his personal little monster.
He would not reveal to her his scars but she would reveal hers; turning a bare back to him, bringing his arm over her body to be in his arms. Every jagged scar along dark skin was given to her by him. She kept them, treasured them as if they were some kind of gift. A mark was proof that he had been there, that he had touched her and she wore them proudly. His eyes moved over the canvas of her skin, admiring his work as his finger traced over marks that faded, marks that rose to meet his fingers. She was not untouched but she was still perfect; a beautiful mess that he would forever be entangled in.
He left before the sun rose, left her to an empty bed and this was the time she wanted to die, if only to be his forever, in his arms forever. He never could understand the meaning of love but sometimes he thought he could see the answer in her face. But he never stayed long enough to allow himself to unravel that mystery.
Blind and tied; her form shivered as her back arched. His hands, so good with destruction moved like a whisper over her curves, eliciting a moan from her parted lips. She shivered, but her mouth twisted into a stubborn line. ❝ Stop playing games with me, Envy. ❞ Would he harm her or would he take her over the edge ? That’s what made this so exciting but it wasn’t liked it mattered what he did; pain and pleasure were one when it came to Amelia Sinclair.
❝ I’m not afraid of death - especially not yours. I just…don’t want to be there when it happens.”
She didn’t really know what she expected; why would he admit such a thing ? It would have a deeper meaning between them if he feared losing her but of course, he denied it. Or did he ? Amelia had no way of knowing if he really dreaded the day when her death would come, all they did was fuck and fight. That wasn’t really something to miss. Amelia sighed.
❝ You should be afraid of death; it’s coming for you, from me. ❞
her little warning makes his mouth clamp shut, teeth clacking together as she smothers him with deep, fervent kisses. there isn’t a spot that goes untouched, but there’s little opportunity for him to reciprocate as she begins to tug at his shirt. his hands come up to help, coming near her clumsy fingers to unbutton his shirt —— but she does one thing that takes him by complete surprise. she frees him from his shirt, certainly, but she also frees his shirt of its buttons, which clatter to the floor and roll away. he almost lets out a ‘ jesus ‘ of exasperation, but it’s quickly covered with her lips. smiling bitterly at her words, he begins to carefully remove amelia’s shirt. “ what a shame. i don’t know jack shit about romance. “
She was starting to feel sleepy; the inebriation was really beginning to sink in. She yawned as she straddled him, smacking her lips as he smiled and began to take care of her shirt. The blouse was slipped off and she was left in a black lacy bra her outfit might not have been cute or sexual but at least her underwear was. ❝ Maybe I should teach you because I deserve to be romanced. ❞ Her arms wrapped around his neck, leaning in to shower him with kisses and a few gentle nips against his skin. It slowly slowed down though until it stopped altogether. Her body slumped against his as she fell asleep.
