#I could even see Edward threatening her at first and afterward growing close to where she does want to protect him despite being in danger

[jacobsbadwig]

I saw your tags on the other post and pls rant about Jessica Stanley being the main character. Kthankbye ✌🏻

I was trying to find a post on my blog that imagined Jessica as the Main character Twilight.

But frankly it all boils down to Smeyer using Bella as a self insert. Now a lot of people hate that criticism, but it’s not a criticism rather than a statement of fact. Her crime isn’t basing a character on herself (or a young version of herself) it’s refusing to kill her darlings. Bella’s book description is the same description of Stephenie Meyer. (See @panlight or @fuckmeyer for more information)

As for Jessica, it’s hard to figure out what Bellas (and Stephenies) beef with Jessica as a character. I would argue because we don’t get an inkling of how Bella’s friend group was in Arizona (or if she had many friends) that Jessica is another character foil how girls shouldn’t (I will link that post here) act. Of course this is a subconscious point that the narrative makes.

Jessica is this determined high schooler who likes boys (as far as we know) who is focused on her grades but is a bit of a gossip. At least from Bella’s prespective. Also, Bella is an unreliable narrator although the narrative and the author don’t treat her as such.

I think Jessica Stanley makes more sense as the main character mostly because she has more to lose than Bella, a character who doesn’t want to make connections and is only in town because of her self sacrificing mindset. (I will not go into Bella’s mother mostly because my interpretation is that she (her mother) only got worse because the narrative needed her to and then it didn’t really matter because she got to keep her family around anyway). (Also mini rant- It’s strange that a girl who was born in that town and spent summers there until she was 13 Doesn’t know any other teenagers before moving back there especially being the Chief’s daughter. I would assume she would know everyone since she wouldn’t have been left home alone. Whatever Steph)

Jessica has a family. She’s grown up in the town. She has worked so hard for her grades. It would be interesting to see all of that come crashing down because of her involvement with vampires.

@humans4vampires just made a post pointing out the adrenaline caused by Edward’s presence and its masking via Bella’s attraction to Edward. Who’s to say that couldn’t happen to Jessica in their initial meeting.

The narrative would be the Cullens moving to Forks. Jessica gets rejected by Edward. Yes, she’s heartbroken by it, but that’s the new boys problem she’s on a mission to get all A’s. Her tight knit friend group keeps her distracted. Then one day, she’s walking around in the woods taking a break from her studies or just for some quiet time and comes across Edward hunting and covered in blood.

Edward, of course, hearing her thoughts, panics. They just moved to Forks. He can’t just let her get away, but she’s well known in the town. It’s small. He can’t kill her. So (like a dingus), he runs off.

Jessica having seen something so frightening rushes home to calm down, and she plays sick for the next week.

Anyway, I just think Jessica has more to lose, and it will be real push and pull of narrative as she is not only protecting this secret from the rest of her friends. She has to get through high school without dying until she realizes that she won’t be able to live her dreams because she will be a vampire or be killed.

#twilight renaissance #twilight saga #twilight #jessica stanley #pretty much tl:dr: the narrative tension and the threat of being a vampire and sacrifice and even the Romeo and Juliet aspects #make more sense with there's tension and both parties have to lose something #Jessica has to fight to give up her old life and what she knows and loves #Edward will have to read beyond people's surface thoughts to actually make connections #Bella on the other hand doesn't sacrifice anything physically emotionally or mentally #I guess you can argue her agency and development but that's because of weird lore not something she is actively willing to give or keep #everything is a reward for bella #Jessica would have to actually make connections with Cullens and excuse her new erratic behavior to protect the cullens secret #I could even see Edward threatening her at first and afterward growing close to where she does want to protect him despite being in danger #Also Jessica ruining her perfect attendance record is so heartbreaking for her

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Trouble ~ J.V.

A/n: I see my Jerome peeps are HERE and I’m LOVING IT! Prompt list here so y’all don’t have to scroll ;) Feel free to request as many as you want for commission or when requests are open again. I LOVE using prompts!!

Request: “...6, 8 with Jerome Valeska” by anon

6: “You are actually Satan, oh my god.”

8: “Wow, I am so in love with you… just wow.”

MASTERLIST

You know how you see someone, and it’s so obvious where they’ll end up that it’s like a scene in your head? It’s never good when this happens, so usually it’s a sad story and you kind of just frown and shake your head and pity the person, but you know that saying anything won’t do you any good so you just sit back and keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable end.

That’s how everyone saw Jerome Valeska.

People had never cared about Jerome, though. If they ever had, it was wiped away pretty quickly. Brutally murdering people with no care for who was on what side, who had helped or hurt, or without even a little remorse or pity or hesitation or regret... it was one of those things that most people found to be a bit of a turn off. Those who didn’t were seen to be just as unhinged as Jerome was, so they were dismissed as well.

The thing was, people HAD cared about Y/n. She was one of the most intellectually promising in her entire high school, maybe in all of Gotham. She was the kind of teenager that seemed so very adult. She was respectful and poised and very well controlled. She was pleasant to be around, and even much older people didn’t mind talking to her if they happened to be in the same place. She’d even made some pleasant relationships.

Like the friendship she had with Bruce Wayne.

Through him, she had come to learn about and meet and even get along with everyone Bruce knew. She could get along with anybody she wanted to, without threats or intimidation or groveling. She simply existed, and she had a sort of comforting, approachable presence about her. She wasn’t the least bit threatening, but she was... nice, I guess. Even dangerous people liked her, because she was the only person who didn’t seem to care about power or advantageous interactions or anything like that.

She was just nice to talk to.

This showed most prominently when she talked to people like Edward Nigma, or Oswald Cobblepott, or Silena Kyle. She’d even found herself in situations to talk to Barbara Gordan. Victor Zsasz.

People usually chalked it up to her being quite unlucky.

Because she was so unsuspecting and unproblematic and calm, she turned out to be a really good hostage. She didn’t talk back or lash out, she just sat and behaved and looked at you with a very calm, calculated expression.

Zsasz had run into her when he’d worked for Penguin and had been guarding her so that Oswald could make a deal without worrying about his bargaining chip being compromised. After a while, Y/n had asked how Zsasz’s day was going. They’d had a short, pleasant conversation, leaving the assassin intrigued by the girl when she’d been let go.

Barbara had a similar experience, except it had been when she was in Arkham of all places. Everyone had a weird thing, and very few if any people knew Y/n’s, but even she had one too. Her weird thing was visiting Arkham Asylum every once in a while visiting random people inside it, and then talking to them with the most easy normality. Like they’d been life long friends, or the person she was talking to was completely sane. She never judged or snapped, she just had a neutral expression with a sort of interest in her eyes. She was polite enough that Barbara had entertained the visit, and found herself not totally regretting it afterward.

Oswald had met her when he was mayor. She had dropped by as an errand for Jim Gordon, and had started a casual conversation when Oswald had expected her to leave when thing were handled. At first he’d been suspicious, and he still was if he was honest, but she hadn’t asked any prying questions or tried to get at him from any angle. If he drew a line, she respected it immediately and moved onto something else without missing a beat. When he got uncomfortable, she apologized and wished him a good day before excusing herself. After she’d show up several more times, sometimes sent by Jim, sometimes just to say hello, Oswald eventually relaxed. He didn’t trust her, and she didn’t expect him to, but when she stopped by to say hello he’d have someone bring them tea and they’d have a little chat. He was a little surprised when she didn’t visit him in Arkham, but when they ran into each other a little later, she nodded to him with a little smile and he got the impression she wasn’t angry with him.

As time passed, more and more people who were considered to be Gotham’s worst were coming up with more and more stories of Y/n. The girl who didn’t scream when she walked into a store and saw a dead body, but who’s neutrality wasn’t unsettling as much as it was kind of calming. She had all the makings of a twisted, demented villain, and yet she was the most normal person ever. It was confusing and intriguing, but never distinctly a bad thing. She was well known, and no one had anything bad to say about her. 

It was only a matter of time before Jerome found her.

Not long after he did, he was as taken with her as everyone else. She wasn’t annoying, or unnerved by him. She was in fact endlessly interesting. He thought eventually he would get bored of her complete lack of response to even the most terrible things he told her in an effort to get her going, but found instead that the sort of sparks of interest in her gaze and the small smile that sometimes almost touched her lips was enough to keep him engaged.

She was the exact opposite of him, but in a way that didn’t drive him to want her to be gone. He didn’t WANT to kill her. It was weird, and he was living for it.

Slowly, Y/n stopped showing up in public. She stopped visiting Arkham, and the police department. She stopped running into dangerous people who never seemed to mind seeing her around, even if they weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone. She graduated high school but never talked about college. She just... slowly started to disappear.

It wasn’t as suspicious as it was disappointing. No one could tell where she was going or why all the accidental bump ins were being so carefully removed, but it was leaving the idea in everyone’s head that they might not have been accidents to begin with. Not most of them at least. That was the only thing that it could be, after years and years of her being so very unlucky, only for her to quite suddenly not run into a single soul ever. Even when people sought her out, they couldn’t find her unless she wanted to be found.

She appeared rather suddenly at Jerome’s side one day out of the blue.

No one noticed her behind the line of people in chairs. They were distracted by Jerome talking about his terribly sad past, and the people with explosive collars locked around their necks. Most importantly noted: Bruce Wayne and Jerome’s twin brother, Jeremiah.

It wasn’t until Jerome drew attention to her that anyone even registered her at all. She was so still and quiet that behind all the chaos, she might as well have been invisible.

Jerome was only too enthused to rub it in everyone’s faces.

“You know you don’t like me, and that’s fair. I’m not like any of you, am I? I don’t smile right, and I act weird. Then there’s the whole killing people thing.” He giggled, but the crowd in front of him only looked disgusted. “But is that why you really hate me, Gotham? Because I’m a big ol mean bad guy? Do you hate me because I’m a little unhinged? Because I’m a little loud and hysterical and I scare you? Or do I scare you because I have no problem being very honest and very open with all of the things you people LOVE to push under the rug and hide away and pretend no one can see.” He shook his head. “Because I’ve come to realize there is someone who’s exactly like me, but so much better at playing all of you. So much better at playing innocent and harmless and friendly, and with no real intentions other than to prove how easy you all are. How transparent.” His eyes drifted toward Y/n, and he motioned her forward. Without hesitating, she did take a few steps forward, into the light and right behind Bruce Wayne.

Gasps echoed in the crowd. To everyone’s stunned silence, Y/n stood there with the same calm and reservation she always did. She seemed perfectly unbothered by the dead body inches from her, or the people she had always seemed so close to being in danger. She didn’t look around, trying to gauge a way out, and nothing held her in forced obedience. She just looked at Jerome, that same nice, almost-smile and curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“What-” Bruce looked around, mouth dropping open when he saw who was behind him. “Y/n?”

“Ah yes,” Jerome purred. “Gotham’s little angel. Friend to all. Unassuming and nice and calm and wonderful. Aren’t you just a pillar of perfection, Y/n?” He giggled again, and Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing a little,

For the first time ever, Y/n was unnerving. Seeing her of all people look dangerous was so upsetting that the crowd started to step down from their anger towards Jerome and were edging toward true fear. If she could end up being bad, who else could? If even the bets of them could be corrupted, and even the most deranged mind could act completely normal, how could anyone ever tell when people were dangerous anymore?

It could be anyone. Anyone they trusted. Anyone they knew. Anyone they’d talked to long enough to decide they were safe. Because Bruce Wayne had known Y/n best of anyone in Gotham, and even he looked as stunned as everyone felt. He had spent copious amounts of time with her, including for hours straight during school hours, and even he had not on any level or in any way seen anything like this coming.

“Y/n?” Bruce whispered.

Y/n met his gaze. “Yes?”

He wasn’t sure what to ask her. “What’s going on?” is what he settled on.

She shrugged, as if they were catching up after school. During tea time maybe, after having not seen each other recently. “Nothing much. I’m observing and learning. People are so intriguing Bruce, have you ever noticed? I’ve learned so much. All I ever had to do was be polite, and everyone would let me sit there as long as I wanted and observe them. You learn so much by watching people, but even more from talking to them. And they always let me. All I had to do was let them talk. I never lied. I never pushed. I was respectful and curious, and they responded so well. I’ve come to learn that even the most suspicious people feel the loneliness of humanity. They crave to be wanted. To looked at. All I had to do was show interest, and they thrived under that attention. You really have to do so little for people to like you. It’s so interesting.”

Bruce’s eyes had been widening as she spoke. She said it all like she was observing humanity in a way that she wasn’t apart of it. “You’re like us, aren’t you?”

“Oh of course,” she agreed. “That’s the thing. I wanted to understand myself, so I looked at those like me. And those unlike me. To see what was and wasn’t me. To see what was similar and what was so very completely different.” She chuckled softly and Bruce felt sick to his stomach. “I never expected to find someone so very similar to me to be someone seen the eyes of everyone else as exactly opposite. Jerome and I? Very much the same, except I’d rather learn than act. I never really cared about people’s opinions or if they didn’t like me or if they were mean. I was too unassuming for bullying or abuse. I didn’t care if people looked over me like Jerome does, and that’s really the only difference. I just wanted to learn, and people were always willing to let me.” She shrugged. “But people are so simple. So easy to understand. MUCH more straight forward than any of them would like to admit. I think I’m going to be staying with Jerome from now on. He’s interesting. He understands.”

Jeremiah knew who she was only by association, and even he was surprised, despite having known Jerome very close up for so long. He supposed it wasn’t fault, but watching Bruce, he wondered if he’d even been able to tell her true nature. Even now she looked completely normal and safe. Her eyes were full of life, and she was fairly attractive. The way she stood was relaxed and the way she talked was completely normal. What was upsetting about her was not that she was obviously messed up. It was that she was so painfully normal in even a situation that should have been quite upsetting.

“You’re a sociopath,” Jeremiah offered in a sort of leveled voice. Her eyes turned to him and he realized that her calmness was contagious. She had the look of someone you could just... fall into. So easy to trust. Even now he found himself a little lured by her. She was honest about who she was. She didn’t hide anything. She was just quiet, and people forgot to ask. That wasn’t her fault. Maybe she could still be saved from his deranged brother.

“Yes,” Y/n agreed, and her complete acceptance of that didn’t sit well with Jeremiah. “Would you like me to show you? I have come to learn that everyone wants some sort of proof of it. They have a hard time believing me.”

“No that’s okay,” Jeremiah rushed to reassure just as Jerome squealed, “Yes please!”

Between the two opposite reactions from the two very opposite twins, Bruce got the idea of what her kind of proof might mean. “Don’t worry Y/n, we believe you.”

She nodded, and the two boys thought that’d be the end of it. But then she pulled an actual gun out of seemingly nowhere, pointed it at the crowd, and shot without even hesitating. There went up a scream as people scattered, revealing the body of a woman bleeding out on the ground. The bullet had hit someone around her neck and no one could do anything other than give her and themselves plenty of room away from her.

Jerome squealed with excitement.

Bruce looked at Y/n with horror. “I said we believed you! You didn’t have to kill her!”

“But I did,” Y/n decided. “Because they didn’t believe me.” Her lips turned up into a stronger smile. There was no regret or hesitation in her eyes, and Bruce felt dread slowly settle throughout his body. She WAS exactly like Jerome and the only reason this was her first kill is because she’d decided to wait until now to kill someone. They’d all been at her mercy this entire time, like a mouse held down by a mouse trap. Except they’d been perfectly fine just sitting in her trap and letting her watch with mild interest as they died.

She was just like Jerome.

One of the other people in line spat, “You’re actually Satan, oh my god.” His eyes were wide and Bruce got the idea that if he hadn’t been held by the explosive collar, he might have bolted. “You let all of us trust you and welcome you and be around you. You gained our trust, and you don’t even care about us?”

Very calmly, Y/n simply shook her head. “We’re all just meat. Do you care about the animals scientists test on to give you your makeup products and medicine? Do you care about the pig killed for its meat, or the dogs that rip each other apart in the streets for entertainment and money? We’re just animals. You guys have just gotten the idea stuck in your head for some reason that we’re special animals. You won’t admit those animals will eat you just as quickly as you will them. Pigs have high intelligence. You think you’re gods because you have the highest intelligence and then ignore how you so easily ignore what you know and do what you want instead. You give into nature just like any predator. I have simply stopped being either. I’m not villain. I’m not a hero. And you think the people who watch the villain are a different category, but they’re not. They do nothing, and bad thing happen, and that’s it. A woman died, and people didn’t do anything to stop it. There’s a whole crowd of people not held here by anything other than a secret, sick fascination with the terrible things happening here. You are just as bad as Jerome. Just as bad as me. You just refuse to admit it. I don’t. That’s all.”

Grinning, Jerome sat forward in his chair. “Wow I am so in love with you.” He giggled and everyone in the area cringed. The idea of Jerome Valeska being involved like that with Y/n... And the way she seemed to not mind it either. On top of everything else that had happened here, it was so viscerally upsetting. Jerome stood, moving behind the people in chairs to gently grab Y/n’s face, pulling her lips against his. When he pulled away, everyone’s face had gone scaringly pale. “Just, wow,” the red head whispered. 

Y/n seemed to consider that. “You know, I think I have some sort of care for you. Like... like how someone explained a pet to me. Is that how affection feels?” She still looked only curious. It made sense that in a world who didn’t care to learn about people like her, and after a lifetime of holding back her questions and lack of understanding, even after all this time she still would be confused about the different way she experienced relationships with other people.

Jerome shrugged. “I think not, but I can be your pet if you want.”

Y/n smiled. “I think I do want that.”

A victorious smile adorned Jerome’s face. “That’s all I needed!” He turned to face his brother and Bruce Wayne again. “See, I was so stuck on you two. I died wanting to kill Brucie, and I’ve lived my entire life wanting to kill my dear brother, so I lived for nothing else. I thought of nothing else. I existed to end you two. But now, I have a different purpose. There is nothing like looking at someone you find so very interesting and them returning that back to you.” He giggled. “Mom always said I’d never find love. Aren’t you proud of me for proving her wrong?”

“This isn’t love,” Bruce snapped. “It’s demented. You can’t feel love. Neither of you can.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n agreed. “But it will be fun testing that.” She turned and walked off the stage, heading back and disappearing.

Jerome sighed. “And that’s my cue.” There was a gun shot and a sharp pain in his hand as the detonator fell out of his hands. He could no longer explode the necklaces. He made an ‘oopsie’ sort of expression before ducking away as another gunshot run out. “See you around, you two!” His laughter echoed as he disappeared after Y/n, fading away too quickly.

By the time Jim Gordon chased after Jerome, it was far passed too late. Whatever Y/n had done to ensure their escape, it had left no traces. They were gone.

Behind them, they left death and the lingering feeling in the air like this was only the beginning to a very, very terrible love story.

#jerome velaska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska #gotham #gotham x reader #gotham imagine #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #cameron monaghan #joker #joker imagine #joker x reader

[narakurosaki]

equivalent exchange 2/? summary: they’ve been dancing around the topic for weeks. finally, winry invites him to bed. rating: t read on ao3 accepting prompts!

...

She tugs on his hand in the hallway, halting his movement. He glances over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised in question. Words of curiosity dance along his tongue, mouth moving to speak them into existence, but he’s too slow. Winry poses a question of her own. She struggles to meet his eyes, content to hide behind her bangs. Her cheeks redden as the words leave her lips. Ed can feel his own face heating up, and his eyes widening.

“Would you stay with me, tonight?”

His heart pounds against his chest, threatening to burst free. He wouldn’t exactly say that they were dating, but he wouldn’t deny it, either. Ever since his return home, Edward and Winry have danced around the topic of their feelings for one another. Their constant bickering had died down; though still visibly annoyed, Edward hadn’t opposed the chores she had given him each day, and Winry had kept her wrenches at bay. With every passing day, the two spent more and more time together. Winry would request his company to the market, and Ed would blush and grumble, but ultimately followed. He found himself wandering into her workshop on the nights Alphonse had exhausted himself and passed out shortly after dinner. Winry would question him, insist he left, but Edward always ignored her, pulling a chair up beside her and taking a seat. He would watch her work, and, surprisingly, she allowed it. They soon fell into an unspoken relationship—Winry would grab his hand at the market, Ed would bring her dinner when she worked late; Winry would remove the splinters in his hands from gathering firewood, Ed would pull her out of the workshop and lead her to her bed after her third all-nighter. They shared their first kiss during one of those nights—their faces had been too close for comfort after he laid her in her bed. Something had taken over him that night, and he’d closed what little distance had been between them to press his lips to hers. It was a quick kiss, a peck, truly, but it left his head swimming when he pulled back and bid her goodnight. He’d nearly walked into the wall on the way out the door…

“Um… sure, Winry.”

His automail squeaks with each bend of the knee. Pinako sleeps down the hall, and Alphonse shares a room with him beside Winry’s. With how heavy Al sleeps, he isn’t worried about waking him with his clunky leg, but he worries about Pinako. What would that old hag think if she caught them sneaking into her granddaughter’s room? Winry’s wrench is scary, but the thought of Pinako beating him senseless terrified him.

They enter Winry’s bedroom before he’s given a chance to voice his worries. Winry closes the door behind them, and drags him towards her bed. There’s a lump growing in his throat that he can’t swallow. He clenches his jaw and curses his sweating palms. Oh, god. Is he actually going to share a bed with her?

Winry drops his hand to climb into her bed. She shifts beneath her bedding, and Edward senses her anxiety. He blinks. What does he do, now? Does he climb in beside her, or does he wait for an invitation? Wait… wasn’t he already given an invitation? So why can’t he move his legs? Why hadn’t he lost his nerve against Father and the homunculi, but loses it around Winry? What the hell?

“I know you’re nervous, Ed,” Winry’s voice tears through his thoughts. He pushes his bangs out of his eyes to properly look at her. Finally, she’s meeting his gaze. “I’m nervous, too, but that’s okay. It’s just… sharing a bed. We did this as kids, right? It isn’t a big deal.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a big deal when we were kids,” he mumbles. His right hand rubs nervously at the back of his neck. “But, I dunno… What about Granny? Won’t she kick my ass if she finds out?”

In the dim light of her nightstand lamp, Ed catches Winry scowling. “You’re my boyfriend, genius. I don’t think she cares.”

Despite all of his anxiety, he flashes a toothy grin. “Oh, so we’re using labels, now? I mean, you should really ask a guy before calling him your boyfriend.”

She puffs out her cheeks. “Just shut up and get in bed!”

Somehow, Winry’s embarrassment helps Ed feel calmer. He walks around her bed, smirking in her direction. She refuses to look at him, arms folded against her chest. He pulls the bedding back and lies on his back beside her.

A silence befalls them. Ed’s ears begin to ring as his brain works to fill the deafening silence. His golden eyes stare at the spinning blades of the ceiling fan hanging above. His hands rest folded atop his abdomen, and he constantly readjusts the positioning of his left leg. With every bend, his the knee joint squeaks in protest. He curses beneath his breath.

A minute passes. Then two. Then three.

At the three-minutes-and-seventeen-seconds mark, Winry grabs his right hand.

“You‘ve been slacking off on oiling your leg, haven’t you?”

He chews at his bottom lip. Leave it to Winry to worry more about his automail than the situation at hand.

“Maybe I just like having you do it for me.”

Though he doesn’t look at her, he can almost feel her rolling her eyes at his quip.

Their hands rest between their bodies. Ed intertwines his fingers with hers, and Winry shifts to lie on her side. She’s facing him, now, and he can feel her eyes on him.

Okay, Elric. It’s just Winry, and it’s just a bed. You’ve got this.

He turns to his right to face her. Their hands remain interlocked, resting beside their heads. Blue and gold meet, red dusts faces, and hearts pound in chests. Truthfully, they could fall asleep like this, but that wasn’t how it happened in romance novels.

His bottom lip quivers, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Do you… wanna cuddle, or something?”

He hardly notices Winry’s face turn redder in the dim lighting. “That would be… nice, I think.”

Okay, so, he isn’t sure what the next step is. The two had barely cuddled before—the closest they’d come was Winry’s head resting on Ed’s shoulder while they sat on the couch. And, even then, she had dozed off after a long day of work. Cuddling wasn’t high on their priority list, what with Granny and Al roaming around.

Without warning, Ed releases Winry’s hand and returns to lying on his back. He resumes his staring competition with the ceiling, silent for a moment as he gathers his courage. “Here, lie on my chest.”

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long for Winry to comply. A tiny squeak emits from Edward’s throat the moment Winry’s head meets his chest. Her right hand rests beside her, lightly gripping the fabric of his black tank-top. He’s paralyzed with the fear of what could go wrong. What if he snored? Al had thrown several items at his older brother just to get him to stop, and even then, he was unsuccessful. What if he hogged the bed? He often awoke in peculiar sleeping positions. What if she found that she didn’t enjoy sleeping with him? Would they be forced to end what was going on between them? You can’t go forward in a relationship if you can’t sleep with the other person, could you?

Oh, no��

What if he wakes up with morning wood?

“Geez, Ed, calm down. Your heart is beating at a mile a minute.”

“I am calm!”

A finger jabs into his chest. “Shh! You’ll wake the whole house up, idiot!”

“I am calm…” A lie grumbled into the night. He pushes back his bangs.

Oh, right. They’re supposed to be cuddling. Where is a safe place to put his hands?

The safest bet, he decides, is to wrap his right arm around her, and rest his right hand on her shoulder-blade. His left hand takes its usual position on his abdomen, exposing the skin beneath the fabric of his shirt.

He feels his pulse beginning to return to normal. Holding her wasn’t so bad after all. Why hadn’t they done this sooner? Sure, Al and Granny would tease them, but what did it matter? He likes Winry. He likes her a lot. And, by some miracle, she likes him back. Why shouldn’t they enjoy their feelings for each other?

“This is nice.” Winry’s breath is warm against the skin at his collarbone. It sends a chill down Ed’s spine. “And you finally calmed down. I was worried you’d end up having a heart attack.”

Winry giggles, and Ed finally looks at her. It’s a strange angle, and the most he can see of her is her hair, but he swears there’s a shine in her eyes. He smiles.

“Shut up,” he teases. “It’s your fault for taking me to bed. And to call me your boyfriend without asking? It’s a lot for a man to handle.”

“Hey, you didn’t ask either, mister.” There’s a hint of annoyance masked well by her teasing tone.

“I didn’t think I needed to!”

A squeak of protest escapes him as Winry leaves the comfort of his chest. In the blink of an eye, the light on her nightstand is shut off, and she returns to his side. Her head rests just beneath his chin. “Let’s just go to sleep, boyfriend.”

The beat of his heart garners a jabbing finger against his chest. He grunts, wrapping his arm back around her frame. “Whatever, girlfriend.”

Winry falls asleep shortly afterward, and though Ed can feel his eyes growing heavy, he watches his girlfriend sleep soundly on his chest for awhile. He falls asleep with his nose buried in her hair.

. . .

And in the morning, when Al realizes his brother is absent from his bed, he finds him tangled in Winry’s sheets. He raps his knuckles against the doorframe, waking them, and flashes a wide grin at their blushing faces.

“About damn time you get him into bed!”

Downstairs, Pinako chuckles and sucks on her pipe, listening to the bickering of three kids.

#edwin #edward x winry #edward elric #winry rockbell #fma #fmab #my fics #equivalent exchange #as always send prompts to my ask box <3333

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The legend of St George and the Dragon

St George was not England’s first patron saint, he was adopted by Edward III around 1340 when the king dedicated the chapel he was building at Windsor to the soldier saint who represented the knightly virtues of chivalry he so admired. Much of the rise in popularity of the legend of St George arose during the Crusades, the medieval religious wars waged by the Christians against their Muslim enemy in the East, from which the legend is believed to originate. The new taste was for much less passive saints and a more bloodthirsty Christianity, promoted by the clerics who accompanied the soldiers on the Crusades and who recruited huge numbers to the cause. So it must have been some comfort to know, before setting off into the unknown, that there were mighty Christian warriors, one called George, already there, fighting on your side. The George and Dragon legend continued to grow in popularity in the Middle Ages thanks to a twelfth-century collection of saints’ lives called The Golden Legend, written by Jacobus de Voragine in around 1260. The tale it recounts is set near a godless, pagan city called Silene, thought to be in what is now Libya. In a lake close to this city lived a fearsome dragon which threatened to kill the villagers if they did not provide it with a live animal to eat each day. And so, to appease the monster, they threw it a sheep every evening. When they had run out of sheep they drew lots as to which children to sacrifice instead. Eventually the king’s own daughter was chosen. He pleaded with his people and promised them all of his gold and half of his land if they would spare her from the dragon, but all they refused. Standing at the edge of the lake, the trembling princess saw a magnificent young Christian warrior from a nearby town riding towards her, having heard of the king’s plight. ‘I will defend you in the name of Jesus Christ,’ he called as he galloped towards the dragon, which was, by then, approaching his supper. The dragon turned on George instead but, making the sign of the cross to protect himself, the warrior drove his lance into the neck of the beast with such force the creature was pinned to the ground. George and the girl then walked the defeated dragon through the town to show the shamed creature to the people. He told them the Lord had sent him to deliver them all from evil and promised to slay the beast if they would become Christians like himself. The people agreed and the dragon was killed with one mighty blow from the warrior’s sword. On that very spot, fifteen thousand people were then baptized and the king later built a church to the Blessed Virgin Mary on the same site. Looking at the story more closely, you can see how Christianity had simply appropriated the ancient Greek tale of Perseus and Andromeda. The legend of St George held firm in England, but likewise, thanks to medieval myth and fable, the story developed and altered over the ages to suit changing tastes and needs. St George could be co-opted for all sorts of purposes, including folk remedies – as exemplified by a fifteenth-century manuscript advising people how to protect their horses from witches. At the time it was commonly believed that if a horse was found to be sweating, or tired, in the morning, then a witch or hag had stolen it during the night and ridden the animal hard. To prevent this, according to the manuscript, you should hang a flint with a small hole in the middle above the stable door to remind the witch, if she appeared in the night, that St George had banished her for all time. And apparently that worked. The story of St George remained extremely popular, leading to later embellishment by Richard Johnson in his 'Famous History of the Seven Champions of Christendom' (1596). Johnson removed most of the Christian religious references and replaced them with chivalrous and noble ideals, reflecting the romantic era of the knights and the Crusades. According to this version, George is a lad born in Coventry to aristocratic parents but is stolen soon after birth and taken east. As he grows up he bravely saves the King of Egypt’s daughter, Princess Sabra, from a fearsome dragon and as a reward is told of his true ancestry. With that he returns to Coventry (rather than being sent there) where, before long, he is unlucky enough to encounter another dragon on Dunsmore Heath in Warwickshire. Although George manages to save the people by slaying this second dragon, he is himself poisoned by the beast’s evil breath during the battle and dies soon afterwards, in the process securing a place in English folklore for ever more. His body, Johnson writes, is buried in the Chapel at Windsor that Edward III had dedicated to him. And so the legend of the exploits of St George – possibly a form of early propaganda intended to bolster Crusader morale, later adopted by Edward III as he revised his military machine, making George the patron saint of England in the process – became part of English folklore, accounting for why you may have a pub or hotel near you bearing that name. Interestingly, the St George’s cross that forms the flag of England was originally the flag of Genoa, adopted by the City of London in 1190 so that English ships would be protected by the Genoese fleet when they entered the Mediterranean. It was then taken up by the English soldiers during the later Crusades as the insignia for their uniform – hence its association with St George as a crusading knight. St George remains the epitome of English patriotism. The king’s rallying cry at the Battle of Agincourt in Shakespeare’s Henry V – ‘God for Harry, England and St George!’ (Act 3, Scene 1) – offers up a memorable trilogy for victory, especially during time of actual war (Laurence Olivier’s famous celluloid portrayal of Henry V helping to boost flagging British spirits in 1944). St George’s Day in England falls every year on 23 April, which is incidentally also the day Shakespeare was both born and on which he died. - Albert Jack Albert Jack AUDIOBOOKS available for download here  

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