Passionate about writing, art, creativity, humanity, nerdiness, charity, beauty, craziness, psychology,
circuses, uniqueness, family, and epic friendship.
Remember how everyone’s favorite part of Heath Ledger’s performance in Brokeback Mountain was his almost painful physical repression, his reluctance to express any emotion that wasn’t punching or SHUTTING DOWN? His voice was closed in on itself in a raspy burr — he fell to the ground rather than shed tears — his face was hooded and dark and full of twitching cheek muscles. Kristen Stewart is Heath Ledger, I assure you. She has the same handsome face, the same winsome, masculine smile, the same reluctance to make direct eye contact.
For years, everyone in the world has misunderstood Kristen Stewart’s compressed emotional range. They thought it meant she was a limited actress; it means nothing of the kind. She is John Wayne being forced to play the Maureen O’Hara character. Give her a rail to lean against during a sunset, a military jacket, a toothpick to chew on, and something to squint her eyes against lazily in the distance, and her guardedness will be transformed from unsuccessful femininity to The Great American Male.
Kristen Stewart is a goddamn cowboy.
Summary: Barring learning of her parents death, it was the worst night Winry had experienced in her young life. Immediately post the Elric’s failed transmutation, Winry uses her beginning skills to help treat and soothe both the brothers’ trauma, while barely holding on herself.
Warning and Author’s Notes: Quite graphic description of Ed’s wounds and treatment. Probably the most graphic thing I’ve ever written. I am not a doctor, and though I do work in a doctor’s office, the medical practices in this fic are not meant to be instructional, nor are likely entirely correct. They are the result of the most in depth of research as I can manage, and talking to a police officer about traumatic wounds. Also, though I try to set most of the technology in the correct time period (early 1900s) the medical practices I gave some more leeway, given the existence of automail. Therefore, this is more akin to modern practice than historical.
It was a quiet evening inside. Granny was mending, Winry was tinkering with a little metal mechanism that would maybe (if it was good enough) be a part of someone’s elbow, when the door crashed open, and the noise of the storm outside flooded the main room. Winry didn’t look at the door first; she remembered looking at Granny and seeing her drop her needle, fear rushing over her features, before her professional mask dropped back into place. Only then did Winry look at the doorway, to see a gigantic metal figure leaning into the opening. In its arms was a broken body, blood already dripping on the floor. It took a long moment to recognize it as Edward.
We watched ‘Miracle at Rush Valley’ and had some thoughts about Winry.
I’m too lazy to type them up, so here, have a recording!
it’s kind of funny how gutted and angry we white folks are about what’s going on in ferguson right now, considering that black people have been facing this shit every day since they were born.
and by “kind of funny,” I mean “not really very fucking funny at all.”
I suck for ever closing my eyes on others’ oppression.