#;the soul (carlisle)

[acinematicworld]

☾ - twilight (2008)

[wexhappyxfew]

Okay these prompts were so good. It was so hard to decide. After much thought, I humbly present to you “Don’t ever leave my sight again” for Annie and Brady? I feel like the scene you’ve set up for them in the camp, this would really fit for them, but of course only if you think so!

HELLO SWEET ANON!!! thank you so so much for this annie x brady prompt is was an absolute delight and treat to write!! the annie x brady storyline for me has just been continously building and it offered me the opportunity to write their reunion in the stalag and it was a JOY!!!!! i really fueled it with so many heartfelt emotions and i just truly hope you enjoy. writing this made me immensely happy and filled with a lot of emotions, so truly, THANK YOU!!!!i can definitely agree that the camp set up a *perfect* opportunity. and to everyone - here it is! THANK YOU AGAIN!! PLEASE ENJOY!!! <33333

gone to the earth

(a/n): ITS THE ANNIE X BRADY REUNION PIECE YALL. COME AND ENJOYYYYY!!!! let's just say this has been sitting around in bits and pieces for a WHILE and this prompt absolutely gave me every inkling of an opportunity to write the reunion and to say the least, it came out exactly as i was hoping, with the energy i was hoping to portray. i sincerely hope you all enjoy - annie and brady are so special to me as characters and in their connection to one another and i hope to have done them justice for this piece especially; please enjoy!! (also: annie you are so real for thinking of brady in the way you do).

The drainage of color from what must've been a once bright and shining landscape was utterly depleting. The gray sky above hung like a heavy tapestry, fighting to keep whatever light that could've been shining in, out, and the sight of the camp, with its rows of bunk houses, and barbed wire crawling up the sides of the borders were enough to make her shiver.

The unknown was enough to make any person uncomfortable to any sort of relevant extent - especially in wartime. War seemed to bring out all the possibilities of uncertainty and the unknown, and it seemed to be staring her in the face with this camp.

As she struggled to keep up behind the few USAAF POW pilots who were in front of her, she could see the clouded outlines of POWs currently inside the camps, their faces smudged with dirt and grime, hair under beanies and crusher caps, heavy coats and jump gear still strapped up on them with their boots covered in crusted mud and clay.

Squinting her eyes, she could see the looks on a few of their faces as the convoy neared; enough grief, numbness and exhaustion to last a lifetime. A look that might never disappear.

Annie had been limping ever since they were sent marching this direction, the shove on the ground a few days prior, only to be hauled up by her twisted shoulder and dragged on the ground until she could get her footing, had left her feeling limp like a rag doll, her body nearly giving out under the weight. Her entire form ached from exhaustion, lack of food and water, and having spent the last few nights, ever since jumping out of that B-17, almost entirely awake, for fear of someone attacking her as she tried to sleep.

She couldn't trust a soul as far as she could throw them; she was in enemy territory now, in Germany. She was in a place so few seemed to make it out alive in, where they could have her head in seconds and do whatever they pleased with her. Because to them, she was their enemy. Recognizing that would forever feel like a punch to the gut.

Two nights ago when she'd shoved herself in the corner of the room they'd been keeping her in, she'd crafted a makeshift sling to keep her shoulder in place, the ache deep and slightly dulled now by the time she was moving more. Her body couldn't seem to figure out where to place the pain - her heart or her body and she was almost regretting letting herself worry as she had.

Where were Bessie, Kennedy and Margie?

Conditions like herself or worse?

Would they run into the others who were downed?

Or were they dead, gone to the Earth like a last fleeting resource and expense of the war that they were all expected to pay?

An air-raid siren seemed to open up the second the gates to the camp were shoved apart from one another, the immediate rush of pilots inside the camps, flushing themselves against the wiring and metal caging about the borders, their fingers latching onto the sides, immediately yelling out to familiar faces in the crowd, once lost but now found.

Annie lifted her head as the calling out continued, in an almost last-resort hope that somehow in all of this, someone from the 100th was here and alive and well. A desperation latched onto her, the sudden want to see someone from the 100th overwhelming her being as she looked from side to side, keeping herself in line as she continued walking forward towards the second set of gates.

"Annie! Annie Bradshaw!"

The sound of her name mixed in the swirl of other names being yelled, with cheers and call outs, made her suddenly locked up with more emotions than she thought she'd feel.

"Annie Bradshaw! Here! Annie!"

Turning her head to her left, through the crowd of pilots clinging onto the barbed wire, she saw the smiling face of Bucky Egan appear through the crowd, pressing up against the wire and watching her, calling out her name once more as she limped closer with the group.

A certain look in his eye was enough to make her freeze up for a moment - a split second of 'Why are you here? You shouldn't be here? You should be back in Thorpe Abbotts'. And then a mix of 'I am glad you're here and nowhere else now that you're in Nazi Germany'. Suddenly her mind raced - Bucky had gone down with Brady.

Her Brady.

"Bucky!" she called back, weakly, picking up her limping pace forward as she did so, watching that grin grow onto Bucky's face again as he watched her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he called out to her as the group continued to move forward towards the second gates, and the yelling grew louder and more invigorated, "You should be back in the sky!" She watched him, trying to get her response strung together into a well-thought out sentences and came back with nothing but a puff of air as the realization of just what the last few days of life had been like for her.

From the plane and the flak, to dropping out, being on the run, lost and slightly terrified out of her mind, to captured, in interrogation, lacking sleep and any source of food to here. And she was here. She'd made it here. And Bucky Egan was right there. Some members of the 100th had made it.

Annie tracked Bucky until she'd gotten through the second set of gates - people immediately started coming forward, helping some who were dragging along others who couldn't walk, along with greeting friends and fellow pilots. Something cathartic about it all hit her as she turned and watched Bucky come right towards her before anything.

Maybe in another lifetime, she would've knocked his lights out, but standing here now, the only thing she could grasp onto was the boys from the 100th. Bucky pulled her into his arms quickly, the hug short, but meaningful enough that tears entered her vision at the feel of him right there. Pulling back, Bucky held her at arms length and stared at her long and hard, like trying to figure out what to say and why she was here.

"Bradshaw…." he started, but she just shook her head.

"Your eye." she managed out, catching the blues and blacks mixing around his eye that had evidently been wiped clean of what blood and grime had been there, "Are you okay?"

"Hell, Bradshaw, I should be asking you that," he said in a slightly strained and choked voice, "what the hell happened to you?" What the hell did happen to her? She could barely even get her facts straight of the last few days, let alone talk about it. All of it. The bad, the ugly, the horrid.

"Did any of the others make it….?" she asked him, the sudden realization of her, Silver Bullets' pilot standing there, smacking him in the face, "Kennedy, Bessie and Margie. They split up Silver Bullets, we were losing crews left and right and with a whole lot of new replacements, they needed vets to step in. We all went down somewhere over near Berlin. Did they….? And….and your guys? Anyone?" Bucky watched her for a moment, his gaze both pensive and thick, as if trying to put the pieces together while dissecting her all at once, this shell of a girl, a half-made used-to-be pilot who was now in shambles in front of him, downed and trapped.

"Let me take you back to barracks." Bucky said both calmly and assertively, "Get you some food and water, too." He gave her an extra-long stare. "And a blanket, you're shaking, Bradshaw."

For a split second, she was almost ready to argue back, meeting his gaze, holding up that strong front she had built up the last few days when she'd been alone and struggling to survive under the watchful eyes of the Germans. But now, despite the conditions, this was someone from the 100th, someone from the place she'd started to think of as 'home' and she knew she had to trust him. That opening her mouth would only do more in this moment than was even needed.

"Okay." she said quietly, letting him turn and wrap his arm over her shoulder, his hold on her tighter and more confident than she had ever experienced. Like a sudden need to protect and guard - and if it didn't give her an indication of what she was stepping into, she didn't know what would.

Something in the way he walked, with her tucked into his side, like he didn't want to let on that it was her beside him, a female pilot on her lonesome, there in his protective and caged side. But there was something about the way he didn't talk that scared her.

Bucky Egan was always talking - he practically never even came up for air. So the fact he wasn't talking, wasn't even making a mention of her previous questions and had digressed immediately to discussing going back to the 'barracks' made a small pit form in her stomach enough to make her feel slightly sick.

They came upon barracks with two wooden doors, to which Bucky released his hold on her a bit, leaping up to pull open the doors for her and letting her inside. It smelled musty, like dampened wood and cigarette smoke, along with charcoal and death, and there was enough of a bitter tinge to the air for her to shiver as Bucky came to her side again to lead her down the long hall.

"We're just right in here…." Bucky started to say as he pointed to a doorway that led to a small room, lined with bunks on all sides, half of a table peeking out in the center of the room and a potbelly stove going in the corner. A few people sat around the table - she saw a pair of feet at the edge of one bunk and a head on another.

Annie slowly moved forward into the room and it was almost like a light had been turned on with how quickly heads seemed to turn towards the threshold she had just stepped over.

"Annie?"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw!"

"Bradshaw?"

"What the hell you doing here, Bradshaw?"

Immediately, she was rushed by a hug from someone she couldn't quite find the head to, but then the person pulled back and she was met with the brightly smiling face and shiny eyes of Bessie Carlisle, who was staring at her like she were starstruck.

"Annie Bradshaw, how'd I know you'd find your way back to us?" she whispered quietly, reaching up her hands to softly cradle Annie's head, holding her gently with that smile of hers. Annie met Bessie's gaze, the sudden realization that she had her navigator back, alive and well and very much here, in front of her, and couldn't help but pull Bessie into another hug, filled with relief, joy and a whole swirl of emotion.

"Didn't think I'd live to see the day." Annie opened her eyes as Bessie pulled back and there coming towards her was Kennedy Farley, a slight limp to her walk but a smile on her face and it was enough for Annie to completely disregard the salute Kennedy was about to perform and pulled Kennedy right into her arms. She held onto her like some sort of lifeline as Kennedy's arms immediately went to latch right around Annie right back, the two girls holding each other with tears in their eyes.

"I'm so glad you're here," Annie whispered quietly into her flash of ginger hair, pulling back to look up at her face, "you're both okay?" Annie looked from Kennedy to Bessie who both nodded, before glancing sidelong at one another.

"Margie never showed." Bessie started, "Yet." Annie's gut sank a bit as she looked between both their sets of eyes again and nodded, before looking back to Bucky, who stood by, watching with a solemn look written on his face, enough to hide, but enough to tell at the same time.

Looking back, around Bessie and Kennedy, she was met with DeMarco and Murphy and Hambone, along with Buck and a few unfamiliar faces that didn't exactly hit her memory. There were hugs, there was some laughter, there were even some warming gazes that made her feel more content than she had been in days. But something in her gut was ticking like a clock as she pulled back from DeMarco's warm hug.

"Did Captain Brady make it?" she asked aloud, her voice sounding hollow and strained as she felt her mind turn to turmoil - Bucky was here, he'd gone down with Brady, so how could Brady not also be here right now?

"He did." Buck said almost immediately, "Murph, go get him. He's been out getting some food with a few of our guys for a while now." From the moment she'd heard the words 'He did' fall from Buck's lips, her entire body seemed to freeze up just at that thought. Brady was here and he was in this camp and he was alive. A bubble of relief grew inside her stomach at the mere thought of him. He was alive and here. Murphy hurried out of the bunk room leaving the place in a disarray of a mix between new arrival and long-lost friend.

"Well," Bessie said stepping forward and making way to wrap a blanket around Annie's shoulders, "let's get you situated with some soup and water, huh? No doubt you haven't eaten anything of substance lately."

"Thanks, Bes," Annie said as the navigator helped her settle into a chair with that leg of hers, wrapping the blanket more comfortably over her shoulders and letting her for once sit down. Annie couldn't remember the last time she'd been properly sat down and felt both safe and comfortable that wasn't Silver Bullets.

"It's not much," Kennedy said coming over from Hambone where a bit of soup had been scooped into a plate, "just what we could find. Potato soup."

"It's perfect." Annie said, her eyes slightly widen in hunger as the bowl was placed in front of her, along with a metal spoon, "God, I can't even remember the last I put food in my mouth."

"You want water?" Bucky asked moving towards some of the canteens stacked against the stove as she nodded.

"Thank you all," she said as she took the water canteen from Bucky and sipped the water thoughtfully, "you don't know how happy I am to know you're all here." Annie looked around the room at the people who meant more to her than anything right now, their faces bringing an immense amount of comfort to her trembling form, their presence enough to make her feel safe enough to eat and drink.

"We're happy you're here, too," Bessie said, exchanging glances with a few others around the room, her voice dipping into something broken and lodged with emotion, "worried us when you didn't show. We didn't even know if you'd show. At all."

"Me either." Annie managed out, her throat feeling as if a piece of bread was lodged inside and she couldn't get her words out.

A beat of silence seemed to eclipse them as Annie tasted her first bit of the soup, which was quickly followed by her taking in a larger bit of soup, savoring the watery broth and the stiff potatoes.

But it was food and it was damn-near luxurious to take in right now when her stomach had been empty for days. Her mind was moving a thousand miles a minute though, stomach twisted in anticipation in seeing Brady after all those weeks, after Francis had broken the news.

Francis. Francis Montez.

Annie's heart fell at the realization of just what situation they were in with Francis experiencing the loss of another pilot; another Birdie.

A frenzy of footsteps echoed out from the hallway into the bunk room, a chatter of low voices following, causing heads to turn from the bunk room to the threshold.

As Annie looked up in that moment, there around the corner, stopping to freeze in the doorway was John Brady.

The first thing she took in about him with her spoon half-raised to her chattering and chapped lips, was his eyes, so intently focused on her own, the mixed hues of blue with gray flecks holding her own, his gaze so fixed on her own, she didn't realize that the spoon of soup was falling out of her hands, knocking against the table as it clattered to the ground.

His hair was in his eyes, stranded and hanging over his forehead, parted more down the middle, something she'd only seen from him when they'd been out at the officers' club or when they woke up side by side that one time all those weeks ago. His overcoat was clinging to his body, his boots caked in dirt, his hands filled with, presumably, sacks of the food he'd been scrounging and his entire frame facing her.

"Annie."

The second her name had fallen from his lips, that strong semblance she'd built for herself had quickly fallen in a matter of seconds. She'd stood, with the blanket falling from her shoulders and practically, between a mix of stumbling and limping, launched herself into his arms, meeting him halfway between where he'd been standing and she'd been sat.

Maybe launch wasn't the entire right word, but whatever it was, their arms were locked around one another in a way she couldn't even describe in her mind, her hands reaching up into his hair, trying to hold him as close as physically possible, his own hands tracing up and down her back, lingering on her exposed neckline as he held her there. Her eyes were welled with tears as she felt his hand moving up and down her back in that familiar and comforting, synchronized motion.

It made her think of that last time they'd seen each other - side by side in her cot, his hand rubbing her back as she had curled under the covers and wished him good night. A fateful 'stay safe' lingering on her lips.

Somewhere near her neck was his face, breathing her in, his lips brushing her sensitive skin sending goosebumps across her entire body, suddenly aching for him in more ways than were possible, longing for his hands to be on her longer, tucked up under her shirt, pressing against her cold skin, warming her up and keeping her safe.

"Let's give them a minute…." Annie heard Kennedy briefly say from somewhere behind her, a few muffled voices in response, a few coughs following as feet shuffled out of the room, to God knows where. For a moment, all that mattered to her was that Brady was in her arms at this very minute and safe.

Slowly, they peeled apart from one another, like cracking at a piece of stone to split open, arms still very much wrapped up in one another, their faces still close to each other when they finally locked eyes again, slightly breathless and pink in the cheeks, neither saying a word beyond staring right at one another like it'd be the last time. Annie couldn't help but let a hand crawl to his cheek, her heart pounding inside her chest as she brushed her thumb over his skin, feeling a part of him she hadn't dared to touch back before his plane had gone down. When she'd been scared. Fearful. Locked away.

"You're here." he whispered out, his voice so delicate she was sure she could lose it right there in his warm embrace, "Annie, you're here."

"I am." she said quietly back, continuing to brush his cheek gently, her thumb tracing underneath his eyes that had sunken into his face a bit, yet not dimming that look in his eyes that made her want to burrow right under his arm to hide. A sudden sense of boldness struck her as she stood there, drinking in the sight of him and his face and that look in his eye that made her feel slightly insane and swallowed.

"I can't tell you how much I missed you," she managed out quietly, "after hearing you and Bucky went down….I….." Brady softly cupped her cheek from the other side and offered one of his classic lopsided grins and watched her, eyes painfully brimming with an emotion that hit her in the heart, as she felt the tears build up in her eyes and a sob escape her lips. Her hand came back from his head to instinctively cover her mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"It's okay now," Brady said with a small smile that quivered at the corners of his lips, "you're okay." Annie felt a small whimper escape her lips as she cracked open her eyes and looked to him again, reaching out her hand again to let her fingers dance over the scar above his eyebrow.

"Look at you," she whispered softly, her voice hoarse and filled with a quiet serenity in a way that she didn't quite expect, "did they hurt you?" Brady shook his head gently and continued to rub his hands on her back.

"Don't you worry about me, I'm fine," he whispered, "I'm worried about you." He let his finger dote on her cheek on the bruise from where the ground had met her when she'd passed out. "What about this?"

"I passed out after their interrogation, I'm fine though, really," she said quietly, her voice still strained as she tried to wrangle her emotions in a way she could speak, "I missed you so much." Hearing those words fall from her lips again without so much as a question to repeat those words made her heart ache as she stood in front of him, having him there in her arms.

"I missed you, too, little birdie," he whispered back, a nickname that made her insides twist, before he was pulling her closer to himself, "shit, you're freezing."

"It's cold out." she managed out back with a small smile, to which the corners of his lips grew upwards into that glorious grin of his - the one she'd yearned for and missed day in and day out, all those sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling, wondering where he'd been, what he'd been doing, if he was alive. Something that ate at her core and thrived on the very fact she was worried over someone she would've never met if she never became command pilot of Silver Bullets. If Birdie had never lost her life. The world worked in ways she would never understand nor comprehend. She felt lucky to even know him. Be here with him. Know John Brady for the man and leader he was.

"Have you eaten anything?" he asked her quietly, his eyes darting over her shoulder towards her bowl and water canteen, "Here." Slowly, his hands traveled from her back to her hands on his cheeks and he slowly led her back over towards the bench, lowering her down gently, before reaching down to grab her fallen blanket and spoon.

In a matter of seconds, he was pulling the blanket over her shoulders and wrapping his own arm around her form, his palms rushing up and down the blanket over her shoulders and forearms in an attempt to warm her up. Even in a moment of being again in one another's presence, he couldn't help but take to doing what he did best. And that was care for her when she could hardly care for herself.

"I didn't mean to make you drop your spoon." he said as his gentle movements up and down her arms made her feel warmer than she had in days. She slowly looked up at him with a smile, catching his gaze under the softly lit light above them.

"Just seeing you there, I could've cared less about a spoon on the floor or not." she whispered quietly to him, her eyes holding his. Staring at him, his warmth and her own minimal bit combined, she couldn't help but reach out with her cold hand to cup his cheek again, his firm facade melting at the touch of her embrace there on his cheek again. Tears lingered at the corners of her eyes again as she stared at him, feeling this, all of this around her.

"I thought you were dead." she admitted, her voice sounding weirdly distant from herself as she spoke, "When they told me. About your plane. I thought you were dead. I just….I didn't want you to ever leave my sight again after that." His grip tightened on her as his hand wandered up to her cheek to wipe at that stray tear that struggled to leave her eyes. "And after everything just, sitting here with you….." Her words failed her as they watched one another, her heart pounding at the feel of his hand there on her cheek, cradling a part of her that no one had touched in any way beyond caring for the sick and wounded.

Annie watched his eyes explore her face, seeing the new parts of her that he'd miss in the time they'd been separated, his grip close and tight, like letting her go would make her disappear.

A part of her lingered closer, her eyes darting down to his softly parted lips, the stubble appearing on his cheeks, those strands of hair in his eyes that made her fingers want to start at his chin and dance their way up and across his face to tuck them back from his blue orbs.

An ache built inside her as she softly moved to cradle his face tighter, his head tilting as she felt herself inch closer, his palm pressed against her own cheek as their noses brushed and their eyes closed.

Every part of her was begging for him to come closer, to touch her, to feel her, to pull her as close as physically possible and let her know this was real and they were sitting here side by side. Because one hour ago this was far from the reality and a painful lie of life. But now, she was sat here with him and he was inches from her and she wanted him right there, hands in her hair, across her skin. Her nose brushed his again as a siren suddenly pitched out across the camp, Annie's eyes flashing open in an instance as she looked up from Brady's face and towards the window - an air-raid.

There was one at the other camp too, in the middle of the night, where she'd been curled in a ball on the stiff cot, staring up at the moonlight as the siren went off, over and over throughout the two hour expanse. Her body had shook with each distant bomb drop and in this moment she felt her body freeze, her mind draw blank as footsteps rushed inside the room and voices eclipsed her mind.

"Alright, everyone remain calm." Buck called out to the people of the room rushing in, Annie briefly meeting Bessie and Kennedy's tired gazes from the doorway, "No doubt they're bombing Berlin, or close enough to it to where we can hear it."

"Just stay calm." Bucky said, leaning up against one of the barracks, glancing out the window with a distant look in his eyes, "Those fucking bastards are probably getting what they deserve."

With silence falling around the room, the sudden realization of the spoon in Annie's hand, she looked back to Brady who was watching her with that quiet look still, that soft yearning and gentle touch she wanted to be wrapped in again.

Where his lips had almost touched her own - they'd been as close as their noses brushing - had it almost been more?

Would she have kissed him then and there, and allowed his lips to press against her own, letting herself become undone with his touch, now back beside him?

Her mind raced and her hurt thumped in her chest as her body felt the warmest it had been in days as Brady's hand reached down to pull her free hand into his lap, fingers tracing the delicate parts of her skin, over her knuckles and over each curve and nail. It was enough to make her insides feel funny and she focused her best on taking in more water and potato soup as everyone sat around in the room, the air-raid siren went off and Brady's fingers traced her own.

In a different time and place, she wasn't sat in a POW camp with an air-raid siren going off - she was in a little blue house, on the front porch, staring at the blue skies and the beautiful world around them without war. She was in a different world that wasn't her current reality.

Glancing over towards Brady, she held his gaze as the air-raid siren continued to drone and his hand continued to trace against her skin.

For a moment, she thought in her mind - she had wanted him to kiss her.

Right then and there, side by side, lips inches from one another in that tiny bunk room.

But all she could do was stare at him and plead for another moment where she got to stare at those blue eyes in a world like this.

[vintageseawitch]

eddie boi was at the peak of "him being interesting in any way, shape or form" when he was feeding on baddies & he did more for the sake of humanity than the Cullen & Denali ✨️ecological disaster✨️ clans put together 🥰🧛‍♂️🩸

[wastheheart]

✿ for carlisle!

Send "✿" for 2 headcanons for our muses' relationship.

@mvndrvke (thank you!)

One:

Whenever they're physically together, they're always touching each other in some way. Carlisle naturally rests his palm against the small of Esme's back, and Esme often has her arm linked in Carlisle's own. If they're sitting opposite each other, they often find their feet resting against each other's, or perhaps their calves brushing against the other's.

Two:

If either of them are working away, they will write multiple love notes and pop them in amongst the other's case for them to find throughout the duration of their time away. In addition to this, they make sure to text each other "I love yous" frequently throughout the day and give each other the lowdown on what they've done each day. Whenever they return, they're always eagerly waiting for them. If they've flown, they will often greet each other in departures with a sign adorning their name.

[lookitsaworm]

Edward, dry sobbing, talking about the brief moments when he died before he became a vampire:

"Wherever I was, I was happy. At peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it. Time didn't mean anything, nothing had form but I was still me, you know? And I was warm and I was loved and I was finished. Complete. I don't understand about theology or dimensions, or any of it, really but I think I was in heaven. And now I'm not. I was torn out of there. Pulled out by my friends. Everything here is hard, and bright, and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch this is hell. Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that knowing what I've lost..."

Carlisle, quietly pondering why he saw a sickly redheaded child with a god complex and decided to take it home:

[volturiprincess]

My delusional mind at 12 am series:

So I have two series that I do, one at 1 am (where I just end up staying awake more later) and another at 12 am where I tell myself I am going to go to sleep "early". Same thing just at different times.

Anyways I wanted to share something, you see I love stickers, I been dying to buy some but haven't found any that have caught my eyes until a friend recommended a website and well I am internally grateful for her. I been searching, day and night for some really good twilight stickers, but all I find is your main Twilight characters, NO Volturi or whatsoever, until this website, and well let me show you some of these stickers

These are literally real ones I found THAT in fact you can buy. You know the excitement that arose in me when I saw a Felix sticker, and from my favorite scene of him at the same time. I was like a little girl on Christmas. And lets not forget freaking Alec, Demetri and Carlisle with tattoo's. As I said these are real stickers you can buy, there are more Volturi stickers but these ones were the ones that caught not only eyes but my heart, specifically the Alec and Felix ones.

I never knew I needed the mental picture of Alec with tattoo's but now I am obssed with the idea. I saw a post that Alec would be a car or motorcycle guy (totally agree) but picture this, Alec leaning against motorcycle with a leather biker jacket on and helmet in hand and to top it off he has tattoo's🥵. That image is now in my mind forever.

And don't even get me started on Felix, that man would freaking need a Hummer or something because he's a big guy, big guys need a big car. Or knowing what a cocky son of a muffin he is, would have a motorcycle and ware a tight fitted short sleeve shirt that just hugs all of his muscles in the right places with biker pants (I have officially lost my mind now). Like sir what the hell, why do I let my mind wonder like this.

Anyways just wanted to say this.

[mariocki]

New Scotland Yard: Shadow of a Deadbeat (2.6, LWT, 1972)

"Anything wrong?"

"Anything wrong? She knows how to contact Eddie Moffett, you can bet your life on it!"

"I'm betting Lee Collins' life on it."

"She's gonna go to the nearest phone and she's gonna tell Eddie just where Collins is."

"That's right."

"It's too dangerous."

"Oh, it's been dangerous ever since Moffett pulled that trigger!"

[blackjackkent]

"Ah. The interloper..." The man's voice is a harsh basso growl; he looks up slowly from whatever strange experiments he is conducting on the bloodsoaked table in front of him. He's heavyset and imposing, with pale blue skin - not human, Hector suspects, but maybe tiefling judging by the glow of his eyes? His skin is scored with deep marks of some indeterminate sigil on both his face and chest, spattering the blue with red smears of blood.

He surveys Hector appraisingly, gaze sweeping him from head to foot. "And in one piece as well. Not an entirely unpromising specimen, for one naturally-born." He blinks thoughtfully, his head tilting to one side as if scenting something unexpected on the wind. "Though it's not all natural, is it? A touch of the divine... most curious, for a True Soul..."

Hector stiffens warily. Naturally born? It's already clear that this man, whoever he is, has dabbled in necromancy - even if it weren't obvious from the reconstituted soldiers they encountered outside, it would be obvious now from the group of servant ghouls pacing this chamber and the hulking, skull-faced behemoth standing in the corner.

But is he implying that he himself is undead?

And the crack about Selune's blessing on them, the moniker of "True Soul"...this man knows far more about them than they do about him, and that makes Hector tremendously uncomfortable. But they are not being outright attacked, and that's something at this point.

"Naturally-born?" he says carefully. "That's a strange thing to hold against someone."

"Not so," the man says smoothly with a dismissive shrug. "Womb births are such *imprecise* things... There's always room for improvement when it comes to the flesh. My creations..." He gestures at the enormous creature standing at his back. "...are more than a sum of their parts."

Hector's gaze follows the gesture, taking in the shambling skeletons walking the room. "Your creations?" he says. "Mindless undead minions, from what I've seen." He can't help a slight grimace of distaste.

The man smiles broadly, his glowing eyes shining with something that might be exuberance - or madness. "They are mere sketches compared to my masterwork!" he barks. "That would leave you in awe, should you be fortunate enough to bear witness."

That I sincerely doubt, Hector thinks sardonically. "Who *are* you?" he demands, feeling suddenly extremely tired. Around every corner in this horrible wasteland, some new madman...

The stranger's expression hardens abruptly. "You are a True Soul," he snaps. "There is no excuse for you to not recognize your betters."

Hector feels an unpleasant squirm behind his eye and winces. Of course - this is the first test, then. He knew he would be forced into this deception upon arrival at Moonrise, but he did not expect it here. I am a True Soul, he reminds himself firmly. At least as far as this fellow is concerned.

"But never mind," the man goes on airily. "Your potential may outweigh your ignorance. I am Balthazar - Chief Advisor to General Thorm, and entrusted with a mission of utmost importance. Do you know what is at stake here?"

He fixes Hector with a piercing gaze, and Hector feels a chill run through his marrow. Based on what Jaheira said, Thorm is the leader of the Absolutists, which means this Balthazar is their second-in-command. They have wandered into an extremely dangerous situation without realizing it.

Balthazar... he's heard that name before.

[MONK][HISTORY] You're sure you've read of a notable Balthazar before... But where?

Narrator: You remember an ancient scroll rescued from an Amkethran monastery. It spoke of Balthazar, the monastic order's leader. Specifically, it recorded his death.

"Balthazar," Hector says, warming a little to the discussion as it shifts back into his own area of knowledge. "I heard of a monk by that name once. He died a long time ago."

"Oh, him?" Balthazar scoffs. "Yes, I decided to take his name for myself - after taking his rib bones. Suits me better, I think." His expression hardens. "But enough idle chatter. Keep to the matter at hand. You do know what's at stake here, yes?"

(A/N: Eyyy, BG2 reference! Shoutout to @rhysintherain for making this connection before I did; I totally forgot the character in BG2 was named Balthazar. :D Seems as if, at least for the moment, we're meant to believe this is not him, though.)

This is a delicate moment; to reveal his ignorance might be to shatter open the whole fragile deception, but they need information desperately. "Enlighten me," Hector says, doing his best impression of an unconcerned, even bored listener.

"There is a relic here," Balthazar intones, his voice taking on a religious, fanatical edge. "One which General Thorm desires. No - *needs.* I will retrieve it for him."

He leans forward over the stone slab in front of him; a sharp scent of blood cuts the air as he nears Hector's face. "And you will help me. Ignorant you may be, but you've shown some prowess in scouting and combat by making it this far."

Narrator: This necromancer has Ketheric's trust. Helping him could be just what you need to gain access to the man himself.

All of Hector's self-discipline is required to keep him from wrinkling his nose in disgust - both at the smell and the task ahead of him. "So you need my help," he says evenly. "What would I have to do?"

"I do not *need* you, or your help," the necromancer snaps disdainfully. "But you are here in spite of that, so I may as well make use of you." He gestures past Hector towards the hallway from which he came. "The relic is close, but the way is barred and Shar's dead are...uncooperative." He scowls. "Clear the path for me - by blade, cunning, or whatever it takes. I will remain here until you have succeeded - or fallen."

"I'd trust this gasbag about as far as I can throw him - which isn't far," Shadowheart mutters sardonically. "But perhaps better to play along, for now."

For once, Hector and Shadowheart's views on the situation are precisely aligned.

"What exactly will you be doing while I'm out risking myself?" Hector asks, still attempting to maintain an air of casual disinterest.

Balthazar smirks. "My creations need tending to - not that it's any of your concern." He gestures down at the table, which is spread with an array of blood-soaked bones.

"This one's broken," he says with some relish. "He once tormented me as a youth, lifetimes ago. Now he serves me - forever. No rest for you, Mikan...not until I am satisfied."

Hector is starting to feel faintly ill. "I'll see what I can do," he mutters hoarsely, and begins to back out of the room.

Balthazar smiles coldly. "Do not fail me...or you can share Mikan's fate..."

[light-miracles]

Into the Stephenieverse

Just finished reading Stephenie Meyer's Hell on Earth, a short story about a half angel and a demoness. And just like The Host now I want it to happen in the Twilightverse too.

[coffee-n-ocs]

Onyx Soul: Dana Carlisle, Half-Blood Siren (2001)

The 'Bastard' son of a Siren and her human lover, Dana is frowned upon by most of Gravesend, only being accepted by the Carson-Harlow siblings, as the rest of the town would like to get rid of him.

"Did your brothers leave you all by yourself, that's a risky move."

Name

Full Legal Name: Dana Ariel Hadley Carlisle First Name: Dana Meaning: From a surname that is of unknown origin Pronunciation: DAY-na Origin: English Middle Name(s): Ariel, Hadley Meaning(s): Ariel: Means 'Lion of God' in Hebrew, from ''Ari' meaning 'Lion' and ''El' meaning 'God' Hadley: From an English surname that was derived from a place name meaning 'Heather field' in Old English Pronunciation: EHR-ee-al/AR-ee-al, HAD-lee Origin: Hebrew, English, French, Spanish, Polish, Biblical, Biblical Greek. English Surname: Carlisle Meaning: From the name of a city in northern England Pronunciation: KAHR-liel Origin: English Aliases: Dan Carlyle, Ariel Hadley Nicknames: Dan, Ana, D.C, Ari Titles: Mr

Characteristics

Age: 23 Gender: Male. He/Him Pronouns Race: 1/2 Siren 1/2 Human Nationality: American Ethnicity: White Birth Date: 28th August 1978 Sexuality: Bisexual Religion: Raised following the 'Water Spirit' Native Language: English Spoken Languages: English, (some) Spanish, (Some) French Relationship Status: Single (Has a crush on both Phoenix and Navy) Astrological Sign: Virgo Face Claim: Jack Black

Geographical Characteristics

Birthplace: Gravesend Current Residence: Gravesend Have They Been Beyond The Veil: Yes

Appearance

Height: 5'6" / 168 cm Weight: [Data Redacted] Eye Colour: Brown Hair Colour: Brown Hair Dye: None Body Hair: Hairy Facial Hair: Full Beard Tattoos: None Piercings: None Scars: gills hidden as scars when above water Clothing Style: Beach shorts, graphic T-shirts

Health and Fitness

Allergies: None Alcoholic, Smoker, Drug User: Social drinker Illnesses/Disorders: None permanent, gets gill infections if he swims in fresh-water Medications: Takes pills to prevent infections and to make sure he can breathe for longer underwater Any Specific Diet: None

Relationships

Affiliated Groups: None Friends: Hayden Harlow, Phoenix Carson, Navy Carson-Harlow, Harley Yancy Enemies: None, but the whole town seems to hate him Mentor: Daniyah Carlisle Significant Other: None Previous Partners: None of Note Parents: Abraham Maus (46, Father), Daniyah Carlisle (48, Mother) Parents-In-Law: None Siblings: None Siblings-In-Law: None Nieces & Nephews: None Children: None Children-In-Law: None Grandkids: None Other Notable Relatives: None

Notes

Occupation: Construction (Works with Hayden & Phoenix) Tropes: (Purely speculative)

Apparently Human Merfolk: Dana's half human, so he looks the most like a human being when above water.

Ear Fins: When below water

Fish People: when below water, though he still looks somewhat-human in comparison to pure-blood sirens

Sirens are Mermaids

Super Not-Drowning Skills: Due to being half human, Dana can only last 48 hours below water

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Matthew de Clermont might be more tolerable than Edward Cullen but if I had to choose between Twilight Vampires and ADOW Vampires, well, Twilight Vampires don't inherently subscribe to the patriarchy and play baseball. ADOW Vampires literally invented the patriarchy and have zero baseball scenes.

[jessicanjpa]

Newborn Edward loftily informing a 278-year-old Carlisle that his 12 days of vampire life have qualified him to know more about souls

“source?” divine intuition, gut instinct, and cryptic symbolism from my dreams

[madlovenovelist]

Book Review – ‘Purgatory Blood’ (#12 Harbinger P.I.) by Adam Wright

It’s like a road trip through Purgatory. Genre: Fantasy, Mystery No. of pages: 212 Smile, and the world smiles with you. Cause an apocalypse, and the Hounds drag you to Purgatory. After the events of Final Magic, Alec finds himself in a place where life is cheap and death is a constant companion. Time to win new friends and avoid new enemies. ‘Purgatory Blood’ entered the chat when everyone…

[wastheheart]

“Carlisle?” she asked in a confused voice, staring at me.

“She doesn’t want to fight,” he told her.

The woman touched his arm. He was still tensed to spring. “She’s so frightened, Carlisle. Couldn’t we…”

okay for mutuals to reblog.

PSD is Hope by passionpale on deviantart.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Doctor's Wife 💘 | Carlisle Cullen Imagine

Set during the events of Twilight (2008)

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x female!vampire!reader (romantic), Bella Swan x Edward Cullen, Edward Cullen x reader (platonic)

Content warnings: fluff, light angst, suggestive themes right at the end | female reader (she/her) | wc: 3.5k

requested 📥 yes/no

Premise: When Edward introduces Bella to his family after weeks of avoiding the inevitable, there was no telling how it was going to go down. Of course, what does one expect when they bring their girlfriend over for the first time…. except it's to a family of animal blood-sucking vampires who's lives each deserve a biography of their own. Bella felt the pressure of making a great impression, but the nerves seemed to heighten in regard to meeting the woman responsible for raising Edward throughout his undead life. The woman whose soul was bonded to none other than the Cullen patriarch.

--------------------------

Over a hundred years walking the Earth and Edward still experienced the universal feeling of cringe and embarrassment. This time, at the hands of none other than his family as he introduced him to the girl who’d captured his undead heart and made it hard for Edward to stay away. 

“Alright, um,” he swallowed, placing a gentle hand on Bella’s back to nudge her in the direction of the staircase. Away from the prying eyes of his siblings and Carlisle after Alice had to say, ‘Oh, you do smell good,’ and Jasper was literally fighting for his life to keep it together. “Where’s Y/n?”

“In her studio,” Carlisle replied with a smile, the mention of his wife bringing a warmth to his chest. “She’s working on a project and can definitely use a break. She’s been excited to meet Bella since you mentioned bringing her over.” 

Bella blushed, the nerves resurfacing at meeting another member of the Cullen family. The matriarch at that. Edward’s adoptive mother and Carlisle’s wife. 

“Thanks,” Edward turned on his heel, leading Bella in the opposite direction. Mumbling a short goodbye, she followed the vampire down the corridor, past the staircase and a living space before stopping in front of a wooden door. 

Before he knocked, Edward put a comforting hand on Bella’s shoulder, “Calm down,” his teeth sparkled against the light, eyes teasing. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“Sorry,” she flushed again, cursing at herself. She didn’t understand why she was so nervous to meet Y/n. More so than the rest of his family. Maybe it was because Edward spoke so highly of her. Maybe it was because she saw the way Carlisle lit up at the mere mention of her name. Or how the townspeople praised Y/n, even if they only had one interaction. 

Edward went to knock, but this time was interrupted by a voice calling out from the other side, “Come in!” Smiling, he pushed open the door, revealing a large room in what only could be described as an organized disarray. 

Bella’s jaw slightly dropped, taking in the scene before her. Eyes first darting to the high ceilings with a drop-down chandelier. Though it wasn’t on, thanks to the natural light provided by the left side of the room with floor to ceiling windows where a wall should’ve been. A beautiful, perfect view of the forest surrounding the home. 

The walls were painted a rusted burnt red, the kind you see in art museums. Floors made of the finest dark wood, with one area covered by plastic reserved for protecting it by the paint cans laying on top, beside an easel holding a large canvas. A very large, vintage clock took the center of the wall connected to the window, surrounded by pieces ranging from old signs to shelves holding books and plants. 

On the main wall parallel to the windows, a map of the world hung, flanked by art pieces. Portraits, landscape. Various mediums of pencil, oils, and acrylic. A phone straight from the 1930s mounted above a small table covered by messy stacks of paper. Bella’s eyes drew to a woven basket that came probably to her waist, filled with pieces of rolled parchment. A few laid on the ground. A foot away from it was a cart holding art supplies. 

Finally, Bella’s gaze landed on the figure in the center of the room. Y/n sat on a wooden stool, her posture perfect, hand scribbling across a large piece of parchment placed on the wooden desk facing the windows. The desk was the type that propped up, a lamp attached to the corner, and side table. Something an artist or engineer invested in. 

“I thought I heard the raging pump of a heartbeat approaching.” Bella squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, letting out a small groan. Opening them when she heard the skid of the stool against the floor. 

“Y/n,” Edward scolded, tone playful. 

“Apologies, I couldn’t help myself,” Y/n chuckled, approaching the two with a wide smile. Bella held her breath, admiring the woman before her. Alice may have been the fashion girlie of the family, but there was no denying who she must’ve gotten it from. 

Y/n made even the simplest of clothing look ethereal. White blouse tucked into beige trousers, brown belt with hints of gold, paired with stunning white heeled boots. The necklaces she wore were layered, the longest of which had several charms making them clink together, bracelets covering her wrists, three rings on each hand, and gold hoops. A multicolor scarf consisting of warm tones like red, orange, and yellow tied around her hair. Then of course, her eyes were melting gold. 

She was the picture of an artist. 

Upon closer inspection, Bella had to hold back a whistle at the ring reserved for her left ring finger. Carlisle sure had taste and made sure his lady got what she deserved. That was no ring. That was a rock.

“You must be the famous Bella,” Y/n’s hand shot out, Bella hesitating a moment before taking it. Y/n’s handshake was soft yet firm at the same time. Bringing a chill to Bella as their skin met. “It is truly a pleasure to meet you,” letting go of her hand, Y/n brought both of hers up to make a gesture. “I have been begging Edward to bring you around for weeks. I don’t know why it’s taken him so long,” a playful glare was directed at him. 

Edward rolled his eyes, then put an arm around Bella. “Bella, this is Y/n. My mother for all intents and purposes. Artist, architect, and occasional therapist to all of us emotionally stunted immortal teenagers.”

“You said it, not me,” Y/n smirked, hands raised again. 

Bella laughed, comforted by Edwards touch as she regarded Y/n. “It’s really nice to meet you, Y/n. Edward talks about you all the time.”

“Good things, correct?”

“Of course,” Bella assured, nudging Edward who had scoffed. “He mentioned you designed this house--it’s absolutely beautiful. And this--,” motioning to the space, Bella was again in awe of Y/n’s studio. It’s like she was walking through an exhibit in the Louvre. “Wow.”

“When I made the blueprints for this house, I wanted everyone to have a place--plus everyone was vocal about what they wanted,” she teases with a grin. “Carlisle has his study, Alice her closets, Rosalie wished for a garage, Jasper desired a library, Emmett a game room, Edward got his music room. And me,” a hand waves to the room with pride. “My studio.”

Bella raised an intrigued brow, aimed at Edward, “you have a music room?” 

Had he been human, Edward would have blushed. He brushed it off with a shrug, “Yeah, it’s just where I keep a few instruments. I’ll show you as we go through the house.”

“A few,” Y/n lightly scoffed, earning a small glare from the boy. 

“Carlisle said you’re working on a project,” he changed the subject, nudging his head toward the desk. Catching sight of the blueprints that were in the early draft stages. 

“The high school plans to renovate the library, so they’ve asked me to go over some plans and designs. They were pleased with my work for the gym last year.” 

Edward turns to Bella, “Y/n has the magic touch for designing and constructing. And because we’ve had the time to redo college over and over again….” They share a laugh, “she’s got degrees in art, engineering, design, and business on top of her architecture education.”

The woman simply shrugs, “I like to keep busy. Who wouldn't want to take advantage of obtaining all the world’s knowledge when you have eternity.” If she saw the pointed look Edward was giving her, Y/n ignored it. 

“Anyway,” He sighed, returning his attention to Bella, “The town comes to her for consultations. And, in most cases than often, she designs and oversees the build.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Bella awed, past Edward’s shoulder she spotted the white construction worker's hat. Propped beside a coat hanger possessing a pair of overalls, scarves, and painters' boots. “Did you-,” her finger pointed to the display of artwork, “paint all those?”

“Several, yes,” Y/n motioned them to follow her, moving closer to the wall. “This one you might have guessed is the view of the forest from this room. The first one I did when we moved here. But not all are recent, some I did in the 90s--,” she pointed to a canvas framed with gold trimming near the top. Depicting an image of inside a medical tent, “That one is from when I volunteered for the Army Nurses Corps.”

Bella’s eyes bulged, glancing between Y/n and Edward. “You--you served during the War?” 

Y/n nodded, expression now solemn, “First World War. We were living in Virginia at the time and therefore injured soldiers coming back from Europe docked at the bases there first. Carlisle was the trauma surgeon, and I was a nurse.” Her boots echoed against the wood as they strolled down. “We stayed there the duration of the war before settling in Chicago….”

“How long before he wakes up?”

“Not long,” Carlisle kept his eyes on the unconscious boy while his wife paced behind him. Had they been able to sweat they would’ve been drenched. “The venom transferred from his neck. The closest I could get to his heart--it should take less than a day.”

Y/n ran a hand through her neatly styled hair in distress. They’d only been in Chicago a few months. Arriving when the War ended and immediately joining the effort to combat the Spanish Influenza spreading through the population. With their current predicament, there was no way they could stay.  

Ripping the nurses cap off, she asked, “What’s our next move then? We can’t stay here. This city is an endless potluck of people, and we don’t know how strong his urges will be,” she stopped pacing, coming beside her husband with a pleading gaze. “I know you said his parents are dead, but that doesn't mean he may not have family who’ll come looking for him. What kind of people are we to rip him from the ones who love him?” Upon the look she received, Y/n dropped her head, “Unless you mean to fake his death.” 

Carlisle placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “The boy had the influenza. They saw his condition--it was deteriorating. They’ll believe it took him in the night and his body was sent to the incinerators. Just like the others.”

Y/n sniffed, eyes welling with unshed tears. “I know, but…” she trailed off, “He’s a kid, Carlisle. We agreed that when it came time for us to save someone from death, it would not mean robbing them of their life--.”

“He was dying, Y/n,” his tone was firm, yet gentle. “I promised his mother we’d look after him.” Eyes flicker to Edward, then back to Y/n. While Carlisle hated himself for what he’d done, there was no going back now. “He’s our responsibility now. We’ve to teach him the ways of this life and make sure he copes with it. Not succumb to the darkness like we did.” 

Another sound left her, Y/n taking a moment to process before nodding. “Okay,” she whispered, keeping her voice steady. “We take this day-by-day.”

“Day-by-day.” 

“That’s when Edward….” Bella trailed, biting her lip when she realized it wasn’t the best idea to bring it up. Yet, she was surprised both the vampires nodded, understanding her implication. Instead, she said, “He mentioned you’ve been with Carlisle the longest….”

Like earlier with the doctor, Y/n visibly brightened at each time his name was said. “Will be two hundred years this fall.”

“Two--two hundred??” The human spluttered. Edward had failed to tell her that information. Only saying the two had been together long before Carlisle saved him. 

Chuckling at Bella’s reaction, Y/n tucked a piece of stray hair back in its place. “The vampire who bit me didn’t stick around. Abandoning me. A few days later of endless wonder and unable to control my newfound appetite, Carlisle found me.” Her smile was so wide, bright white teeth bouncing off light. “It’s been quite a life ever since.” 

They spent the next few minutes learning about the history of each painting. From the oil masterpiece of the New York Skyline to the charcoal portrait of Joan of Arc. Bella took time to admire the watercolor image of Carlisle. Donned in his white coat, hair and posture perfect. 

“Ah yes,” Y/n hummed, beaming up at the canvas. “My personal favorite. Though I’m a little biased given the muse of this piece happens to be the muse of my soul.” 

“Stay still.”

“I am.” 

“No, you’re not,” Y/n berated, dipping the brush back into the golden color before continuing to paint Carlisle’s hair. “I know this is time consuming, darling, but it’s not like you haven’t done it before.” 

“In my defense,” his hand raised, quickly putting it back in his lap when she groaned, “I’ve never technically sat for a portrait. The ones from Volterra were done while I wasn’t aware they were being painted.” A grimace took his features, remembering his time with the Volturi. “Aro preferred moments to be captured as they were happening in real time.”

Y/n threw him a look, shaking her head in the process. “Yeah, he seems like the type.” 

“First and last time he got to play model,” she laughed at the memory. “Thanks to the creation of the camera I could develop a photograph and wallah!” her hands made a gesture, “A still image to use as reference. And now with cell phones….I don’t even have to put in the work to develop the photo. It’s right there!”

Initially Bella found her reaction to a camera phone a little odd. But then remembered Y/n was a 200+ year old vampire and literally witnessed the development and advancement of technology. 

“But I don’t always create,” Y/n winked, stopping in front of a stunning work of a lily pond. “Sometimes I collect.”

Stepping closer, Bella inspected the art, finger on her lip as her brows furrowed in concentration. She’d seen it before. The familiarity of it was driving her brain into overdrive. Then it hit her, breath hitching, “Is that…A Monet?” Her confirmation nod made Bella nearly choke on her saliva. “How--?”

“Being alive 226 years and getting the privilege of traveling anywhere means I’ve had the pleasure of meeting interesting people,” her smirk was the type a movie villain showed that made the audience fall in love with them and brush away the fact they were a villain. A captivating sight. “One of those people happened to be Claude Monet during our time in France. Our shared love for art and nature brought a great friendship. I was actually with him when he painted this,” she casually said, aware of Bella’s astonished reaction despite her eyes trained on the canvas. “Unfortunately, Carlisle and I left before I got to see him finish. After he died several of his paintings went to museums or auctioned off. I made sure to acquire this one--took me about three years to find.”

After a moment of gawking, Bella gathered herself and moved onto the next piece. It really felt like they were in an art museum. Soon they came to the end of the gallery. 

“You’re incredibly talented,” Bella praised, unable to take her attention off the marble sculpture enclosed in a glass case by the small bookshelf. 

“Thank you. It’s nice to finally have someone to show this all too. Instead of just me admiring it daily.” Y/n put her hands in pockets, “Now I hate to kick you out, but if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline to beat,” Y/n led them to the door, “and I’ll let you get back to your tour of the house. It was lovely to meet you, Bella, and please don’t be a stranger. Our door is always open for you.” 

“I really appreciate it,” Bella smiled, standing beside Edward in the doorway, “It was great meeting you too.” A wave of a goodbye and promise to visit again, Y/n watched Edward escort his girlfriend up the staircase to the second floor. Leaning against the side, Y/n touched a finger to her lips, not bothering to hide the giant grin surfacing. 

“I know that look.”

Despite speaking after Bella and Edward disappeared, Y/n felt Carlisle’s presence the second he breached the corridor. Not to mention the tingling sensation at the base of her spine. 

Slowly turning to face him, her smile widened, and Carlisle saw the way her golden hues sparkled when he approached. “And what exactly is that look?”

“The one where you’re overcome with happiness unable to be measured with how much it consumes you.” 

Hands took hold of her shoulders, gently brushing down until they reached her own, Y/n leaning into his touch, voice teasing, “What mother would I be to not be overjoyed for her son and the wonderful girlfriend he’s brought home?” 

Carlisle chuckled, tilting his head down to place a kiss on her forehead. The floral aroma of her Marc Jacobs perfume amplified her already sweet scent. Oh, how addicted he was to her scent. It was like walking through a garden of the most beautiful flowers on Earth. 

“You didn’t embarrass him, did you?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, tapping his chest to scold him, “Not much more than you lot. He was practically dragging Bella out of the kitchen.” Carlisle raised his hands in defense, making her raise a brow.

“That was all the kids. I’m innocent, my dear, you must believe me.” 

She tsked, “Well, at least you didn’t scare the poor girl like Rosalie and Jasper. And as much as I love Alice’s excitement, you might want to tell her to take it down a notch,” Y/n made a face, “I thought we all agreed last night not to bring up Bella’s scent.”

She was met with a sigh, her sculptured-God of a husband dropping his head onto her shoulder in defeat. “What was I supposed to do? You left me to fend for myself.” 

Laughing, Y/n reached her arms around his shoulders, encasing him in an embrace to which he greatly accepted. “I’m sorry, my love. Will you forgive me? I promise to find you the finest stag in all of Washington for you to feast upon.” Instantly his head shot up, moving it so their noses brushed against each other. 

“That’ll do.” Their lips met, igniting fireworks throughout their bodies as it always had for 200 years. Never once losing the feeling. 

They’d seen everything in the course of their century's long life. Several wars. Epidemics. The fall of countries and rise of new ones. Medicine advancing, technology overtaking man. The race to space and the rebirth of the Olympic Games. 

Met people who’d changed the world. Witnessed humanity evolve--and sometimes wondered how the hell it could be so stupid. But overall, they were the stagnant figures in their plane of existence. Time moving, they remained still.

And yet, somehow, they were able to find a family after all. 

When they pulled apart, their expressions of love remained. “God,” she hummed, “That never gets old.”

“Just like the first time?” He chafed, gold eyes glimmering.

Y/n pretending to think, lips pouting, “Less nervous,” a squeal escaped her at the feeling of his fingers tickling her ribcage. Shoving him away, the woman chided, “Get back to the hospital old man. There are patients to be seen, and I have a deadline to finish.” The gasp that left him made her grin.

“Old?! I’ll have you know that if I’m old then that means you are---.”

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” her finger pointed at his chest, “otherwise you’re sleeping on the couch.” Carlisle smirked, entering her personal space once again. 

“I can’t sleep. Neither can you.”

“Damn,” she exhaled, feigning defeat when really, she was becoming more invested with their little game. “You’re right.” Then her eyes turned dark, sinister. Face consorting to a look that made Carlisle shudder. 

A look he’d seen hundreds of times, and not once did not bring a chill to his already cold body. Enough to bring his heart back to life. Enough to send the frozen blood down to his spine. 

“Guess we’ll have to find another way to pass the time.” 

[hedge-rambles]

Fun fact about that first one, it's more like:

-It's A Shame I Will Never Get To See My Wife Or Favourite Lake Ever Again Because I Am Dead (But At Least The Ghost Road Is Quicker Than Walking)

im putting together a couple of scottish folk mixes bc that’s what i do and im honestly curious if anyone in my country has ever been unequivocally happy about anything ever