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Former Mastodon guitarist Brent Hinds has died at 51 following a motorcycle crash in Atlanta. Learn more about the tragic accident and the legacy of the co-founding musician.
Former Mastodon guitarist Brent Hinds has died at 51 following a motorcycle crash in Atlanta. Learn more about the tragic accident and the legacy of the co-founding musician.
Beautiful As Can Be
Relationship: Edward Elric x Female Reader
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Warnings: Fluff :), cute, compliments, friends to lovers technically, reader has both legs as automail, past accident trauma, insecure reader
— — — —
Edward has never been happier in his life to see his best friend after one year. Her hair grew longer, and she was a bit taller. He was still at least an inch taller than her, but he was nervous that he’d be the one shorter than her if she grows any further. She claims many times before that she’s done growing, but that was before he left to become a State Alchemist.
Even now, watching as she smiles at the shopkeepers and studies the vegetables or fruits laying on top of tables, he didn’t realize how in love he really was. The way her long hair flows with the wind and not tied up into a ponytail in which she always has it in, he notices how much she hasn’t really changed. Her personality was there. Her looks have matured a bit, but still the same.
But the one thing he has noticed is the way she dresses. No more shorts, above knee skirts or dresses…now it’s been pants or long dresses. To the point where you couldn’t see her automail legs.
“Ed.” Her voice as smooth as butter brings him back to reality. “What are you staring at me for? It’s embarrassing.” She giggles lightly. “What do you say? Should we add carrots to Granny Pinako’s stew?”
It was hard for him to process her words, but he looked away with a red face. He had no idea he was staring at her for so long. Even seeing the shopkeepers’ smirk made it obvious. He cleared his throat before nodding. “Y-yeah. Carrots in her stew sounds good.”
Even so, he couldn’t help but to look back at her covered legs. The strong winds that day brought the dress up just a little bit, showing her automail legs by not that much. Memories of the day before he left were all he could think about when looking at her. A day they both could never forget.
She was caught under rubble during an attack. Her legs were sacrificed to save a little boy. He and Alphonse managed to get her out of it, but they didn’t get to save her legs. They were gone for good. Seeing her cry before and during the process of getting her automail legs, it breaks his heart.
He still wonders how he can apologize for never coming by to visit and seeing how she was doing. Was she heartbroken with having no normal legs? Was it difficult for her to get used to her new legs? So many questions, so little time for him to get answers.
“(Y/N)...” He mindlessly calls her name as he follows her through the market. She hums in acknowledgement. “Are you…” He pauses, taking a deep breath to ask such a question. “Are you embarrassed about your legs?” Although he was kicking himself in the shins at the moment for asking such a personal question, he still wanted to know. It was important to know.
She froze in the middle of the walkway, her face turned away from his. He waited patiently for her to answer. “I…um…I didn’t think you’d notice.” She says. Something seemed to have caught her attention when she whirled around towards him, eyes so wide they were as big as plates. “I-I’m sorry, Ed! I don’t mean for it to be so…um, since you have automail, too…Not that it’s embarrassing for me that you have them! I mean – what I’m saying is that they actually look really good on you…but…” She rambled off, her face getting even more red the more she talked.
They look good on me…? He thinks with a blush growing on his cheeks.
Edward smiled at her, gently taking a hold of her free hand with his gloved one. “(Y/N)...can you tell me why?”
(Y/N) looked away. “People…stare at me. Not that kind of admiring stare, you know? They are more of…judging stares.” She mumbles. Edwards eyes widen in surprise as he listens. “It just…it makes me feel…not normal. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever find someone to marry. Will a guy even love me for having not natural legs for a woman?”
His grip tightens a bit on her hand. A shadow grows over his eyes from his bangs as he growls. “What…? How could you say that? You are more beautiful than any regular looking woman!” He yells out. “If anything, the automail makes you shine brighter!” He was so determined to make her feel better, he didn’t realize everyone around them started to pay attention.
“E-Ed…” She mumbles shyly.
He brings her hand to his lips, softly planting a kiss onto her knuckles. Her face practically exploded with the gesture. “If there’s no man that’ll take you as their bride….then I will.”
“Ed!” She shouts, whacking him across the head with the basket of food she was carrying. He shouts out at the unexpected attack, covering his head with his hands. “You idiot…” She grabs his hand, quickly guiding them out of the many eye sights.
— — — —
Bonus:
“So, promise me you’ll show off your legs more.” He demands when they get back home.
“Stop! You’re embarrassing me…” (Y/N) blushes.
“Actually, scratch that. I prefer it to be me being the only one to see them.” He smirks to himself.
“Ed!”
Have you read "Tragic Accident" by yves.?
Yes
No
I've never heard of this
"Tragic Accident" is available to read here
Officials are investigating the 'tragic incident'.
Deeply saddened by the tragic death of Tere Livingstone, a league rugby player Papamoa. It's just devastating and heart-wrenching to see a young life tragically cut short in an accident involving a rugby game, so I'd like to express my deepest condolences and thoughts to his whanau and friends at this really difficult time. However, I'm glad to hear that the young man donated his organs. Again, my sympathies are with his family at this difficult time.
Heard you are about to write a aemond fic👨🏽🍼👨🏽🍼
I'm about to write him out of life, that's what.
!!! CONSPIRACY THEORY !!!
JACK IS THE PICKLE THAT PARTIALLY BLINDED MARK
@therealjacksepticeye @markiplier
Writing Prompt #28
The very notion of breathing was a chore-no longer a mundane reflex but a marathon of forced participation.
