#insp: last man standing

[occamstfs]

Ain't No Place For A City Boy

Well this one was quite a bit longer than I intended it to be, Here's a ranch hand TF! Hope y'all enjoy and Happy Eclipse Day! -Occam

Day One

Buckley would never deign to visit a ranch of his own volition. Apparently once he left for college his dad visited this place quite frequently, but a habitual indoor kid Buckley never sought to join him. His father recently passed and his last request for Buckley was to give this place a chance. Homebody he may be Buckley was not going to ignore a deathbed request to just try some manual labor so here he is, luggage packed standing outside Stockman August’s Ranch. 

He fights back a grimace as he reminds himself to keep an open mind, eyes going slightly wide as a massive man starts approaching him from the homestead. He repeats various mantras under his breath; I can do anything for a week yeah? It’s for dad, it’s not like they’ll have me do something I don’t want to do.

Buckley throws up a performative smile as August approaches close enough to see it, he stands there frozen waiting for the man to offer some pleasantry. He throws out a hand to shake and asks, “You Austin’s son?” steely eyes under a furrowed brow observing and assessing the weak man before him. Buckley quickly goes to shake August’s hand, doing his best to manifest the strong handshake his dad had always endeavored to teach him but his hand simply cannot near the strength this man expects of his ranch hands. August makes no attempt to hide his own grimace looking at the sorry state of Buckley.

He turns to go back to the ranch, hands in his pockets expecting Buckley to get his own luggage as he shouts back, “gotta room for ya upstairs. Ya missed dinner, but we’ll get a plate for made. Work starts tomorrow.” Buckley just stares blankly as the cowboy wanders off, biting his tongue as he forces a smile onto his face one more. If he keeps it up maybe he’ll trick himself to not be stewing in irritation. He struggles behind August with his heavy luggage trailing behind, taking great care not to disparage this whole experience as he feels his open mind already being tested. 

Finally stumbling into the doors, Buckley finds a friendlier face in a younger ranch-hand Beau. All smiles, Beau welcomes him to the Ranch “Yew must be August yeah? August said yew’d be around, did’ya need some help with yer bags?” Buckley firmly latches onto the helping hand wordlessly taking all the help Beau is willing to offer, blushing as the man easily hauls all of his bags up the stairs and into his room.

Finding his accommodations, Buckley is less than pleased that there are three beds in the room. The light drops from his eyes as he realizes what a scam this whole mess is. He’s paying to share a room with two men? Seeing disdain painted across Buckley’s expression he quickly goes to assure him, “Hey now, ‘s not so bad Buck! I know there’re three beds but it’ll just be you and me in here and cross my heart I’m a terrific roommate! Or I was, uh, in university?” Buckley squints his eyes at the man before him, seeing his eyes go blank as if he’s adrift in his own mind and scratching at his chin. Rather than addressing his clear state of confusion, Buckley instead goes to correct his new roommate, “It’s Buckley actually, if you don’t mind.”

This snaps Beau out of it as he returns to assuaging Buckley without missing a step, “Sorry partner! I’ll try to remember that. How ‘bout I go on and get yew something to eat. Think there’s still some chili left. ‘ll that work for yew?” Buckley nods and Beau quickly makes to grab him a bowl from downstairs, repeating Buckley’s name to himself under his breath to avoid calling him Buck. In his absence Buckley begins to less than sneakily snoop around the room for anything he can learn about this horrible camp or his theoretically not abhorrent roommate. It is shockingly hard to find any personal effects of Beau, he thought he saw a degree on the wall but upon a double-take and closer inspection it just turned out to be a list of chores for the upcoming week.

As he inches over to Beau’s part of the room he smells something horrible from his closet, sure he can quickly sneak a peak before his roommate returns he opens the door to see pair after pair of dirty overalls filling the floor of the closet. As he opens the door a few spill out into the room proper as Beau returns with supper for Buckley. He looks away out of embarrassment and exhales out of his nose, before chewing out Buckley, “now why’d yew hafta go and do that there Buck- Buckley. Coulda just asked ‘S plain rude.” He stands tall over Buckley as he walks over with food. Buckley sees genuine anger appear in the eyes of the man towering over him before it fades to a smile and he pats Buckley on the back, “Not that yew’ll mind soon,” laughing, “I’m sure after a week here there’ll be at least this much laundry!” He rolls his eyes at this and begins to ask Beau about the ranch.

“How long have you been visiting here Beau?” Beau smiles and answers as he puts the bowl down, “I've been here for years bud! Originally was just a visitor but I loved it so much August went ‘n hired me and I’ve loved it ever since.”

Buckley’s eyes narrow in suspicion as he starts to eat, “I see, so you worked here while doing your studies?” Beau just briefly looks in confusion before bursting out in laughter, “my studies? As if kid, I ain’t a city boy like you ha! Anythin’ I need to know I learned from August! I’m sure you’ll learn a thing or two from him as well, certainly already eatin’ like a country boy haha!”

Buckley looks down to find he’s already nearly done with this bowl that had enough meat to stuff him two times over and burps in embarrassment. How could he possibly have scarfed it down so quickly without even noticing. Beau laughs once more seeing how embarrassed the newbie is and goes on to explain exactly how things work around the ranch. “It’ll be a long day tomorrow but I’m sure you won’t do nuthin’ too hard. Probably gardenin’ s’where he usually throws weaklings like you. Oh, uh sorry ‘bout that Buck- ah! Buckley.” 

Buckley smiles kindly at his roommate as he stumbles through this attempt at helping. It’s not like he minds being called a weakling, and if all he has to do tomorrow is garden he certainly won’t mind. He yawns as he continues to listen to Beau, slightly tilting over as he starts to fall asleep. Surely there wasn’t something in that chili, he thinks as he tries to stay conscious. Seeing him begin to drift asleep Beau goes to catch him and carry him to a bed, “boy all that eatin’ sure tired yew out huh. Dontcha worry kid, I’ll wake yew in time for chores tomorrow.”

In his presumably chili-based stupor Buckley dreams only briefly. He’s back in the office watching as papers and contracts pile up on the desk. Phones ring incessantly and a crowd of people demanding things of him as they walk towards him shouting. He turns over in bed uncomfortably as in the dream he turns to look out the window and sees an open field with horses running free. He sees Beau riding a stallion and motioning for him to join. Or it looks like Beau? He looks larger, his beard has filled out.  Before Buckley can even think to react he’s awakened by his roommate, blushing as he realized he dreamed of him beckoning. There must have been something weird in that chili.

Day Two

Hearing August downstairs Beau sprints out the door to hear the day's orders. Not having the awareness, or at the moment desire, to rush to attention Buckley takes his time getting ready. As he changes into an outfit to garden he finds himself thinking of his roommate. Didn’t Beau seem taller standing over his bead to wake him up today. He sure didn’t have that beard yesterday, though he did in the dream. God, did that shirt really flatter his pecs as well. Buckley finishes getting ready and struggles to shift his attention from the warmth growing in his crotch. Maybe there’s something to be gained from visiting this ratty camp after all. 

Stepping out the door he bumps directly into August who just grunts in response. Buckley falls backwards to the floor and the Stockman just glares down at him as a command issues from deep in his chest, “Be ready tomorrow morning. Don’t care who yer daddy is, I ain't gonna let some city pansy sit around and distract my boys. Today yer gardenin’ do good and maybe you’ll get to try some real man’s work tomorrow.” Buckley recoils as August spits on the floor next to him, sneering down and grumbling about how much he hates city tourists. Buckley grits his teeth as a strange new feeling begins to grow in his chest. 

Rather than the persistent voice in his head demanding he just back out of this hellhole, after bumping into the Stockman he finds himself wanting to prove the old man wrong. He rolls up his sleeves and rushes to the vegetable garden and gets to work. He doesn’t question how he knows the way or how proficient he seems at harvesting and tending to the vegetable garden. His mind grows pleasurably numb as he roots out weeds and plucks out food enough for tomorrow's dinner. He feels his mouth water in excitement at the upcoming meal as he wipes sweat from his brow, getting dirt all over his face and jarring him out of his apparent trance state. 

Buckley looks out in shock at the garden that he has somehow expertly cared for. There’s a large basket full of greens ready to be washed and a pile of trimmings as proving h that he’s even pruned the garden. He stumbles back knowing he couldn’t possibly have done that to any degree of success, with any amount of self-interrogation he would find that even greater than shock was a fear of disappointing August. His mind recovers both from the numbness and the shock as he goes to check whatever damage he’s done. Looking closely however he is filled with a degree of pride in his work, he’s really done a superb job here! He grins to himself seeing what adept work his hands have worked, consciously or not. No real surprise though, after all he’s been doing this for- Uh, well this can’t be the first time he’s gardened right? Did his dad teach him how to do this? He must have. Buckley wipes dust from his hands as he looks out to see whatever work the other ranch hands have gotten done. 

His gaze turns strangely wistful as he sees them herding the animals through the pasture. Just like in his dream he sees Beau atop a stallion controlling the beast like the paragon of a ranch hand, sweat dripping from his brow as he pulls down a bandana to smile and wave at Buckley. He starts to shout “Hey Buck-” before being interrupted by a sharp whistle from August standing at the edge of the field. Every man, Buckley included, knows that must mean dinner’s ready. He rushes to change into something not covered in dirt and finds an outfit on his bed, he didn’t remember packing this ratty tshirt or hat, maybe it’s Beau doing a favor. Regardless he throws it on so he can try to make it on time to dinner.

Arriving just in time the Stockman gives him a curt nod and gestures to the empty seat next to Beau. He happily sits and meets the other ranch men. He can’t feel deep inside that something about these boisterous men should put him off but the thought slides off his mind as their energy only riles him up more. The oldest ranch hand shouts over the rest to chat with Buckley, “Now Buck, you shoulda seen Beau when he first started workin’ here. Was a beanpole of a kid he was and look at him now!” Beau looks away from Buckley as he tries to hide his embarrassment, this however only highlights the power of his traps and neck that only entices Buckley more. Staring at his roommate he doesn’t even think to correct the old man for calling him Buck.

One of the other ranch hands tosses Buckley a beer, normally he would never stoop to drink the swill but if there’s nothing else handy he might as well. He finds himself thinking that he could use the calories, as if that’s something he’s ever been concerned about. Buckley starts to down the bottle before Beau puts his arm over him and shakes him shouting, “Look attcha Buck, er Buckley, already one of the guys! And what’d I say yer already less prissy, got some dirt right on yer face.” Beau goes to do Buckley a favor and wipe it off when he finds it's not dirt but sideburns growing on a face that was unmissably clean-shaven this morning. Buckley feels it too and quickly goes to rub his cheek in shock.

At the head of the table August sits silently and takes in all the chaos happening in front of him. His small horde of ranch hands all scarfing down their meals and chugging their beer so they may get back out there and finish their chores. He rubs his gray stubble as he appraises the spirit and physicality of the men before him. His eyes shift to Beau, pleased at how well he’s already filling out his clothes, clearly ready to move up a size or two. 

He then looks towards the freshest meat sitting next to Beau. He was impressed with the work the kid got done, not of his own accord of course, August’s eyes sparkle imperceptibly as he feels proud of his own work spurring the man to be better. This ain’t no place for some city boy, but Buckley’s already starting to carry his own weight. August wanted to see just how fast he might go beyond that. He’s Austin’s kid after all August thinks before grumbling to demand the table's attention as he walks to stand behind Buckley. “Tomorrow. Buck’ll join the rest of ya in the fields. Ya’ll go on and show him the ropes then. Needs to get rest so he can start real work. He’ll go on and turn in now.”

Buckley starts to speak and protest, not of the opportunity but of being told to turn in early. He opens his mouth to speak but turning to look at his Stockman he feels the weight of sleep overcome his mind. His eyes grow heavy and his stomach grumbles. Bickley turns to find that he has well finished his dinner. All the other ranch hands have vacated as he sits in front of a few discarded cans of beer and multiple servings of the meal, August pats his shoulder and dismisses him, “see ya tomorrow youngin don’t let me down. Don’t let your old man down. Become the man you ought to be.”

Buckley stumbles up the stairs drunkenly and bloated before collapsing into his bed once more. Immediately drifting to sleep he feels his body lie there dead as a rock as a pervasive soreness and itch fills his subconscious. This easily shifts to a primal lust-filled hunger. The feeling of his chest itching against his bedsheets becomes grinding against Beau’s body in his mind. His stubble pushing out into a scruffy beard in the waking world goes unnoticed as dreams of his tongue forcing itself into his roommate's mouth, knocking the hat off his head as he throws all his weight against him. The musk of many hard-days work and that of a lustful slumber merge as a copious amount of sweat swiftly stains Buckley’s sheets. 

The ache in his stomach begins to dissipate as his body forces itself to grow. He humps his bed as he does Beau in his dream, each time his arms press larger. His scrawny chest begins to grow real weight, each grind into his bed straining his new t-shirt as it too begins to change, revealing the growing pecs as well as hair pushing out all over his chest, and a forest that is never to smell fresh again growing in his pits. His cock was already filling his jeans when he collapsed into the bed, as his jeans grow to accommodate his growing waistline they struggle to keep up with the constant surges of growth in his crotch. He moans loud enough to wake his sleeping roommate as he loses control in his dream. Beau smirks to himself as he knows what it’s like to get so riled up and palms his own cock wondering what Buckley’s dreaming of.

Day Three

Buckley awakens at the first light of day, his hand shoved in his pants covered in still drying cum. He hops out of bed wiping his hand on his sheets and he tosses on a hat before racing down the stairs, excited for another- No. his first day on the ranch outright. He passes some new luggage in the living room, just like that he had brought all that time ago. He briefly tries to remember why he didn’t think to grab clothes from it this morning before remembering instead he wasted time watching Beau stretch and get ready. He meets August on the porch who hands him a mug of coffee and sending him off towards a stable. 

Just as the day before Buckley’s eyes glaze over and his mind is overcome with a comforting thoughtless buzz as he starts going about acting with an unconscious precision. He pulls all the levers and gates to release the cows to graze. He wanders around checking for any peculiarities of the stable, confident he would notice anything out of place, his foggy mind obscuring his personality growing brasher and more self-assured by the second. He meanders alongside the cows, petting them all in the right spots as if he reared them himself. He feels his lips move without his input, calling specific cows by name, recognizing them as soon as their names leave his mouth.

While his mind remains adrift he finds himself thinking once more of his dream and Beau, his Beau? He tries to maintain focus on inspecting the cows, but as his pulse quickens as the thought of disappointing August hits him like a shot of adrenaline, he is no longer able to move unknowingly as his thoughts race and his hands shake as he remembers. He stares at his shaking hands as they are unquestionably too large, dark hair crawls up from his wrists making way to soon grow onto his upper arms. He sees the muscle filling his biceps quiver and flex as he ambulates at all. He puts his face in his hands, feeling the beard scratch against them, as he tries to recall further. His shirt suddenly itches beyond imagination and it tosses it to the floor, baring his chest as it expands even more powerfully with each heaving breath. Hair thickening in dark waves down the whole of his torso.

His ears ring as if there was an explosion as he struggles to stay standing, this isn’t who he is. Right? He’s been here for like a week? His mind blaring as it contradicts itself saying he has been here even less than that but also so much longer. Buckley stamps his feet down in rage as he tries to remember any truth at all. He, he was supposed to train to be a rancher today, right? But it can’t be his first day, he did his part like he’s a professional. He is a professional no? He’s been doing this for- He can’t remember, he was gardening just yesterday wasn’t he?

Buckley scans the farm looking for Beau, or August, anyone who can offer some immediate answer. Instead the only figure he can see is one he can’t recognize, some kid that’s doing the gardening. Buckley sees him grimace as he makes his way through the garden, harvesting quickly but efficiently. He rolls his eyes, sure that he could do a better job than whoever that little bitch is. The thought that he is a spitting image for the man that Buckley was not but twenty-four hours ago does not even begin to occur to him. For Buckley is not that man anymore. He looks down to see veins trailing across his arms, pumped from the effort of moving hay bales and readying all the dairy cow equipment. 

August whistles once more calling everyone inside for dinner, this time Buckley can’t bring himself to care enough to change or even throw some deodorant on. Beau’s prediction of it being one week before the man would put work before hygiene has been blown out of the water, but neither could begin to recall. For this is who Buckley is, this is who he has always been. At dinner he is sitting directly across from the new gardener, Colton.

He stares daggers into him as the crew begins to dig in. He isn’t quite sure why he feels such rage at the weak man across from him, but it only grows worse as he starts to scarf his dinner. Words that August never even said to him echo in his head as he stares at the young man eating, this ain’t no place for a city boy. Seeing his roommates eyes darken under his thickening eyebrows Beau hits him in the shoulder, “Hey now play nice, Colton’ll be staying in our room so y’all two need to get along, right Buckley?” Averting his rage at the anxious twink across from him Buckley takes sudden umbridge at being called Buckley.

“Y’know, I think you may have had a point yesterday, Beau. Think it’s fittin’ if I just go by Buck.” Beau smiles at his roommate, playfully punching his arm before pulling him into a side hug. Neither man notices as an accent has suddenly imposed itself onto Buck’s voice. Across though Colton rolls his eyes as he sees the cowboys staring at each other so intently, more focused on them than the haste at which he is cleaning his plate.

Tonight, rather than sending one ranch hand to get some rest, August decides to treat his crew and give everyone the rest of the day off. To celebrate, all indulge in even heavier drinking than usual, Colton as the newbie is required to prove himself to the other ranch hands as Beau grabs a couple six packs and motions for Buck to follow him. The two head off towards a quiet corner of the ranch, where August would not be able to watch and the two just sit together and talk. There is a palpable gravity between their bodies as they sit and watch the sunset. Buck wants nothing more than to give in but his mind is suddenly murky once more. He struggles to ask Beau, “Beau, what, or how long have I been here at the ranch?”

Beau tossing back the last of a bottle just looks coily at his partner, “Now yew know as well as I do hon-” 

“No! I just want you to tell me.”

Taken aback Beau opens a bottle and offers it to Buck before continuing, “Well, y’see it’s just a little foggy ain’t it?” Buck’s eyes widen as if he’s cracked a case before saying as much though his mind is thrown into disarray as Beau goes on, “I remember you being new, but also, you’ve done worked here for years Buck?” The words hit Buck’s mind like a hammer on the anvil, the idea of him working at this ranch searing red hot into his mind as he coughs up the beer he was drinking. His eyes glaze over immediately as he drops the beer bottle, he doesn’t remember anything else of the night, at least not in the conscious world.

The last words of reality he remembers; Haven’t you worked here for years Buck. what is his mind to do besides stew on them, now given total creative liberty. He remembers first coming to the camp, he was the weak scrawny dweeb, but that was a time so far removed from the present that it may as well not be him at all, he was surely a teen at the time anwyay yeah? In his dream he remembers meeting Beau very soon after, the two hit it off immediately and become the exemplar ranch hands they clearly are today. Bizarrely he remembers seeing his father with August, but this is, it’s a dream? Surely his subconscious is just throwing spaghetti at the wall. He sees himself caring for the cows, feeding chickens, showing Colton how to garden. He sees Beau tending to the stallions, helping out in the kitchen, repairing the stables as is often needed.

He sees wrinkles start to appear in the corners of their eyes, white hairs start to speckle his beard as the years fly by in his mind. He watches as both he and Beau grow and maintain their bodies, every day working hard for the ranch, for August and Austin, and becoming the ideal that any cowboy, that any man should be. He remembers playfully mocking Beau as he went in to get another tattoo. He remembers Beau teasing him for the pride he takes in sculpting his body, and for plucking out his gray hairs. He is taken back to the first time they had sex, taking an uncharacteristic break from working in the stables to fuck behind the pens. His mind is filled with encounter after encounter, day after day of working hard together and retiring each night to the same room. He sees himself now, body still, lying in a bed next to a man he has clearly loved for longer than the entire life he lived before the ranch.

Day Four

Thus is how awakens. Nude in his thankfully private bedroom with his partner, his lover, Beau. He brushes Beau to help him awaken as he throws on some comfortable clothes for another day of work. Scratching his beard and offering a large dad yawn he makes his way to the common area where he sees Colton already dozing once more, lazy freeloader. Inspecting the new kid though he is pleasantly surprised to see that he must be going through a growth spurt, his midriff is exposed and he seems to be scratching his chest in his sleep. August must really know what he’s doin’ hm.

Speaking of the devil August rounds the corner and looks to Buck with a twinkle of pride in his eye. Both for the work he has done and will continue to do, and at the vitality and virility of the man before him. His father would be proud. Beau soon follows after, squeezing Buck’s shoulder and tossing his forgotten cowboy hat on the couch next to him, his scent in the air as he stomps by is more than enough to get Buck to think with his balls. Before he’s too far gone though August clears his throat and goes over the plans with the two clearly seasoned ranchers. 

Buck squeezes Beau’s ass as he heads out to the pastures, excited to prevail through another day at the ranch. He feels an outpouring of gratitude towards his dad for bringing him to this place. It made him who he is and he is more than eager to show other men exactly what they can be. No, what they should be.

[postm0rt3m]

writing this so fast because if i dont ILL FORGET IT PLEASE

(insp by that super SEXY IMAGE posted by @simonz-angel !!)

bzzt.

your eyes jolt open at the sudden feeling of your phone buzzing, the vibration under your pillow prompting a soft, groggy groan from your lips.

you’re not sure what time it is, but when you open your eyes, it’s still dark outside. riley, your retired bomb-sniffing german shepherd, is still fast asleep at the foot of the bed. and your two little kitties are seemingly no where to be found.

you finally roll over, the time on your little bed stand alarm clock reading 2:28 AM. ‘who the hell is texting at 2 in the damn morning??’ you wonder with another groan, this time an annoyed one. although one person pops in your mind. specifically, a big beefy man, who is currently out on deployment. your annoyance washes away instantly.

you can’t help the giddy smile that spreads across your face just at the thought of him. simon riley. your big beefy man.

he’s been gone for a little under a week now, although its felt like years. the same as it always does. you miss your warm, brick wall of a man! you’re currently bundled under three different blankets, and its still not the same! you miss his big, plush pecks and biceps that feel like pillows under your head, the rough skin of the burn scar across the entire right half of his torso that you could just run your tongue over for the rest of your life, and just don’t get me started on that tattoo sleeve.

of course.. you also just miss him. the way he yells at riley then immediately feeds him a treat because he feels bad, the way he looks at you when he finally does arrive back from his harrowing work, the way he whispers sweet nothings into your ear when he thinks you’ve drifted off.

simply put, you miss your simon.

you’re brought out of your thoughts when riley stirs at the end of the bed, a soft giggle escaping your lips as the dog lies on his back with his tongue flopped out and each of his limbs in the air, like a possum playing dead.

you decide to finally open the message, although that small pit of worry is in your stomach, as it always is when you receive a message from him.

is he hurt?

did something happen?

please be okay.

the same thoughts always run through your mind when you get these random texts, but as soon as you open the chat, your mind instantly freezes. well.. maybe blanks is a better word.

there’s no caption, no words. just a single image attached. and holy shit, is it better than anything you could’ve asked for.

he looks to be lying in his bed, the familiar military-approved white sheets tucked in neatly behind him. the camera is angled high above himself, and it looks as if he still has his gloves on. you can also see the waistline of his pants, and of course that sexy mask (you could bust just from thinking about it), and the dogtags you were just wearing when you bounced up and down on his cock, but.. thats it. he’s completely shirtless.

his muscular, toned abs and pecks are fully on display. for you. only for you. his beefy biceps are on either side of the frame, and that tattoo sleeve you remember tasting just a week ago is sitting deliciously in view. the way his shoulders barely fit in frame, the way the muscle connecting his shoulders up to his neck sits so perfectly high, the way his collarbones. THE WAY HIS V-LINE.

god.. and his scars? you can remember leaving a rather large hickey over that old bullet hole. giggling over the stab wound stretching over his ribcage. licking a stripe all the way from his v-line to his shoulder over the jagged skin of his burn scar. although there is a new one, one you can only presume he got in the last week. no matter, it will be tasted as soon as he gets home.

you end up staring at the picture for a good ten minutes (12, but who’s counting?) before you actually respond. you.. really aren’t sure what to say. it’s not uncommon for him to send images while hes out on deployment, but at 2:30? on a random tuesday? he must be horned up.

but you can’t just leave your man hanging! so.. you decide with a simple text.

> oh

you can already imagine the deep chuckle as he reads the message, the way he’d palm over his painfully tight bulge just thinking about you before unbuttoning his pants, his hard and leaking cock springing up against his lower abdomen and his big, veiny hand wrapping around it-

obviously, you’re feeling the same as he is, considering just how quickly you rush riley out of the room (don’t worry, he’ll get a treat later to make up for it) and plop back down in bed, your phone in one hand as the other lazily circles over your clit.

like i said, you miss your simon.

and you’ll definitely be getting him back for that little tease.

tumblr STOP DELETING PARAGRAPSH WHEN I TRY TO SPSCE THEM. hi i wrote this within like thirty minutes at 3 in the morning and its not proofread so.. enjoy!

ft a lil msg 😜 (BCZ WTF WOULD YOU RESPOND TO THAT my hand would be PREOCCUPIED)

[inkmonster21]

Short n’ Sweet💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: smut (oral male receiving)

Part 01

Short n’ Sweet Masterlist

I Can Scratch His Back But He Can Claw Mine

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

The next day at a table read, Ryan bursts through the door. “Hey, Jackass!” Hugh looks up from the script he's been reviewing, his expression going from surprised to amused as he sees Ryan strut into the room, his finger pointed right at him.

"Good morning to you too, Ryan," Hugh replies, a lopsided smile creeping across his face. "What's got you all riled up this early in the morning?"

“Oh, I’ll fucking show you.” Ryan pulls out his phone and shows Hugh. The screen shows the pictures of you and Hugh as he picked you up from the studio last night.

Hugh's eyes widen as he sees the pictures displayed on Ryan's phone. His heart sinks into his stomach as he realizes that their secret is out. But he quickly regains his composure, feigning nonchalance. "Ah, so you've seen those, huh?" he says, trying to sound casual.

Ryan’s eyes widen. “Why the hell are you picking my baby sister up from the studio, Hugh?” Hugh had to hold back. You were not a child, certainly NOT a baby.

Hugh sighs, his feelings were strong, and if it worked out, Ryan would have to get use to it. He would have to tell him, just not now. He runs a hand through his hair, stalling for time as he tries to come up with a believable explanation.

"It's not what it looks like, Ryan," he says, meeting his gaze. "I was in the area, she needed a ride, that's all, bud."

Ryan looks Hugh up and down with suspicion. Hugh sits there, trying to maintain his cool composure. He knows that Ryan is trying to get a read on him, trying to see if he's telling the truth.

"I swear, Ryan, it was just a friendly favor, nothing more," he insists, holding his hands up in defense. "I didn't realize the paparazzi were around. I don't want to cause any trouble, you know that." Ryan nods understanding. “Okay, I might have overreacted.” Ryan points a finger at Hugh again. “But only friendly favors. Got it? That’s my baby sister, man!”

Hugh nods, a genuine smile appearing on his face. He respects Ryan for being protective of you, and he knows that he needs to tread carefully. "I hear you loud and clear. No need to worry. I would never want to hurt her or disrespect her, okay? I promise I'll be a perfect gentleman."

Hugh can sense the brief flicker of hesitation in Ryan's eyes, but he chooses not to say anything about it. Instead, he watches as Ryan takes his seat, his body language conveying a hint of unease. “Fine, but one word of unfriendly advances, and I will hit you. For real.” Hugh holds up his hands in surrender, a small smile on his lips.

“I understand where you're coming from, and I respect that you're looking out for your sister. You have my word. I will treat her with the utmost respect."

He glanced over at Ryan, who still seemed to be mulling over everything, his expression thoughtful. Hugh knew that they would have to be careful from now on, to keep their relationship a secret for a while longer.

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As you walk the carpet at the 35th Annual Music Appreciation Awards, a flurry of cameras and reporters surround you, eager for a few words and a photo. Despite the attention, your gaze keeps wandering in one direction – towards Hugh.

Meanwhile, he stands a few steps away, looking just as impeccable as always. However, it’s clear that his eyes are also constantly drawn towards you, and he’s struggling to keep his gaze off of you.

As a reporter approaches and positions themselves in front of you, their microphone poised and ready for the interview, they ask eagerly, "So, we've heard you're working on a new album – any teasers you can give us?"

You smile, used to the usual questions about your upcoming music, and respond with confidence, "Well, I can’t reveal too much just yet, but I can assure you, it’s going to be something special. I found some new inspiration.” You smirk at her.

The reporter nods, jotting down notes on a small pad as they probe further. "Any collaborations we should be excited about?"

You take a moment to think, your eyes briefly flitting over to Hugh before returning to the reporter. "No one planned yet, but I would be super excited to see a potential collaboration with a few artists," you reply mysteriously, maintaining a hint of intrigue in your voice.

While you were engaged in your own interview, Hugh was standing a few steps away, surrounded by cameras and journalists. He fielded questions with his usual charisma and charm, his responses articulate and engaging.

However, his gaze kept drifting towards you, his eyes often lingering on your face as he answered questions.

The interviewer couldn’t help but notice Hugh’s fleeting glances in your direction, and chuckled softly before making a comment, "She’s quite beautiful, isn’t she?"

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Hugh’s mouth, and he nodded in agreement, his response sincere, "She is, indeed. Absolutely gorgeous."

As you prepare for the upcoming performance, excitement and nerves mix in your stomach. You're one of many artists performing tonight. You smile slyly as you read the edited lyrics on your phone. You've made a small change to the outro of one of your songs, planning to playfully hint at your newfound situationship with Hugh. Although some may suspect, only Hugh will fully understand the hidden meaning behind the altered words.

As you're getting fitted with a microphone, you notice Hugh sneaking behind the curtain, his eyes meeting yours as a smile spreads across his face. Your heart skips a beat as you see him approaching, feeling a rush of excitement and anticipation.

Unaware of your real relationship, the others around pay no mind to the interaction between you and Hugh as you stand close together. To them, it simply looks like two friends casually talking. They don't notice the subtle touches or secret smiles you exchange, which only adds to the thrill of your secret affair.

As Hugh stands next to you, his hand subtly slides to the small of your back, his touch sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers delicately, his low voice filled with tenderness, "You're going to be amazing."

You wink at him, “Then you better get to your seat so you don’t miss the show.” Hugh grins at your charming reply, his eyes sparkling with affection and admiration. He gives you a nod, a hint of excitement in his voice as he teases, "I wouldn't dream of missing it. I'll be right there, can't wait to see you shine."

Unable to kiss him, you send a subtle but affectionate gesture of affection by blowing him a kiss instead. The brief but meaningful act is the closest you can get to physically expressing your love for him right in that moment.

The buzz of excitement in the air heightens as the current performance comes to an end and the speaker steps out to introduce you. A wave of anticipation washes over you as the spotlight slowly moves onto your location backstage.

You take your place, standing on the designated mark wearing those high-heeled boots and a shimmering, eye-catching outfit. You look every bit the part of a sparkling, captivating pop star who is ready to take the stage.

As the curtains part and the music starts playing, you come alive on the stage. The adrenaline rush of performing in front of an audience fills you with a passion that is unmistakable and contagious. Every move, every note, and every dance step is executed with a love and enthusiasm that is impossible to ignore.

As the final song draws nearer to its conclusion, you spot Hugh in the sea of faces in the audience. A grin flashes across your face as you sing the altered lyrics, the spicy undertones of the new and improved ending meant only for him.

Your voice rings out clearly through the speakers, each word carrying a hint of playfulness and affection, specifically aimed at Hugh.

"I can scratch his back but he can claw mine,

Keeps me like a dog, he’s always behind,

Ages just like wine, so fuckin’ fine,

I love you guys so much, I’ll see you next time!"

As you sing the explicit lyrics, the camera pans across the crowd and captures Hugh’s reaction. Despite his best efforts to remain composed, the explicit lyrics and the knowing smile on your face clearly leave an impression on him. It's obvious to anyone watching that the song was meant for him, and his almost getting caught by the camera only adds to the thrill of the performance.

You wave and blow a kiss to the audience, receiving applause and cheers in return. As you step off the stage, the adrenaline of the performance still coursing through your veins, you can’t shake the feeling of excitement and satisfaction that comes with having just delivered a killer performance.

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The next day, the video to your performance spread like wildfire on social media. Hugh’s reaction to the lyrics became a viral sensation, spawning countless memes and jokes. The internet buzzes with speculation and discussion surrounding the meaning behind your lyrics, although Hugh and you know the true meaning behind them.

Your phone rings, jolting you awake from your sleep. You groggily reach out and grab it, seeing Ryan’s name flash on the screen.

“Hello?” You say softly. Ryan’s voice comes through the phone in a rush of words. “What the hell were those lyrics you sang last night?" You try to remain innocent and composed. “What do you mean?”

Ryan huffs in annoyance. He’s not an idiot. "You know what I mean. The lyrics you decided to ad-lib and sing during the show last night. The ones about 'claws and fine wine.' Who the hell was that about?" “You know I change the outro every once in awhile.” You remain innocent.

Ryan rolls his eyes at your innocent act, not buying it for a second. "Oh, come on," he exclaims. "You can’t expect me to believe that you were not talking about Hugh. Claws and aging like a god!” Ryan continues his rant, his voice growing more and more annoyed as he goes on. “You’re too young for him,” he says, his voice firm. “Besides, men his age just want one thing from girls as young as you.”

You blew up at his words knowing Hugh is the exact opposite. “God Ryan. It was just a song lyric. Don’t read so much into it.” Ryan is taken aback by the sharpness in your voice, realizing he’s definitely touched a nerve with his words. However, he’s not quite ready to back down just yet.

“Just a song lyric, huh?” He says, his voice filled with skepticism. “You’re telling me you have no feelings whatsoever for Hugh?”

You stammer over your words next. “Not… real ones. He’s hot. You can’t blame me for being attracted to him.” He can’t argue with your reasoning; Hugh Jackman is objectively a gorgeous man, and it’s natural that you would be attracted to him.

"Fine,” he says, his voice gruff. “You think he’s attractive. I can’t blame you for that. But you need to be careful. Your names are everywhere this morning.”

You roll your eyes at his words. “Than you’re welcome for the publicity.” Ryan sighs, realizing he’s fighting a losing battle. "Just be careful, alright? Don’t let this rumor with get out of hand.”

Ryan is still blissfully unaware of what’s really going on between you and Hugh. He sighs again, sensing that you’re hiding something from him.

"Just keep your head straight, okay?" he says, his voice laced with concern. "This whole thing could damage your image.” You scoff at his words. “I think I know what I’m doing with my career, Ryan.” You say in a sharp tone and hang up.

Ryan’s jaw drops open in disbelief as you abruptly hang up on him. He’s not used to you speaking to him like that, and he can’t help but feel a mix of annoyance and concern. He shakes his head and mutters under his breath, “girls…can’t live with them, can’t live without them."

“What, honey?” Blake asks as she walked behind Ryan. Ryan turns to Blake and sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "My stubborn sister,” he says, his voice filled with annoyance. "I just tried calling her to ask what was going on between her and Hugh, and she completely blew me off." Blake raises an eyebrow, surprised by Ryan’s reaction.

"She’s probably just tired or stressed,” she says, trying to soothe his frustration. “She’s been working really hard lately. Maybe she just needs some space.” Ryan scoffs, “space from me? She’s never needed space from me. I’m her big brother.”

Blake rolls her eyes at Ryan’s overprotective attitude. "You need to relax, Ryan,” she says, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "She is a grown woman now, and she’s allowed to have her own life. Just because you’re her big brother doesn’t mean you have a right to know everything she does. Hugh told you there was nothing inappropriate going on. Just leave it alone.”

Blake’s words resonate with him, and he sighes, knowing she’s right. He’s been acting like a protective older brother, but she is a grown woman now. She deserves her privacy and autonomy, even if it’s hard for him to let go.

Blake does smile at the thought before muttering under her breath. “They would be cute together though.” She walks into their kitchen getting ready to prep the kids breakfast. Ryan turns to look at Blake with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. He hadn’t been expecting her to say that, and he can’t help but be taken aback by her words. “You’re not helping.”

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You’re shopping when your phone rings. Megan pulls it out of your purse and looks at the name. Your hopes rise. Maybe it was Hugh. She passes it to you, “it’s Blake.”

You feel a pang of disappointment when you see that it’s not Hugh’s name on the caller ID, but your spirits lift when you realize it’s Blake. You take the phone from Megan and bring it up to your ear, feeling curious about why she’s calling.

“Hello, hello.” You say with a smile. You loved your sister in law dearly. Thankful you had someone to help you beat Ryan up.

Blake’s cheerful voice comes through the phone, warm and friendly as always. You can hear the smile in her voice as she greets you. "Hey! How are you doing?"

“Good. Tired and running on pure adrenaline, and crumb cookie, but I’m still here.” Blake laughs at your description of your current state, amused by your honesty and the touch of hyperbole.

"Oh, gosh," she says, her voice filled with warm understanding. "That sounds like a recipe for collapse. You’re doing too much, sweetie."

“I know right.” You agree as you walk out do the shop. Your assistant, Megan, right behind you.

Some girls gasp as you turn the corner. “Can we get a picture?!” They asked in a rushed voice. Both girls so excited to see you.

“Of course.” You drop the phone and smile with the two girls as they take a selfie with you. You wave as they leave in an excited wave. “Sorry. Got caught by some fans.”

Blake chuckles at the sound of the fans’ excited squeals and your cheerful responses. It’s moments like these that remind her of how far you’ve come since your days of singing at family get-togethers. She can’t help but feel a sense of pride at your success.

"No worries, sweetie," she says, her voice still filled with warmth. "It sounds like you’ve got quite the fan club following you. I remember when your version of ‘Frosty the Snowman’ used to be the highlight of our family gatherings."

You roll your eyes at the memory. “I still need to find that tape and burn it.” *Blake laughs heartily at your response, amused by your continued embarrassment over the memory of your childhood Christmas performances.*

"Oh, come now," she teases, her tone lighthearted. "Those tapes are pure gold. Plus, Ryan would never allow us to destroy them. Imagine the blackmail potential he has planned." You laugh with a smirk. Your own blackmail in your back pocket. “And I still have his green lantern test photos.”

Blake gasps in surprise, both surprised and amused by your revelation. She hadn’t expected you to have any dirt on Ryan, but the thought of you having blackmail material on your big brother definitely amused her.

"Oh, you sneaky little thing,” she exclaims, her voice filled with laughter. "I had no idea you had a secret weapon up your sleeve. Those green lantern test photos could be quite the leverage." “Oh I have plenty more. It’s just a little warning for him to not fuck with me.”

Blake shakes her head in amusement, imagining the look on Ryan's face if you ever decided to reveal your secret stash of blackmail material. She can't help but feel proud of you for having such leverage over your overprotective big brother.

"Speaking of him. The kids and I were heading over to the studio to grab lunch with him. You want to come along?” The offer warms your heart. If Ryan was there… Hugh would be too. “I’d love to!”

Blake's voice fills with joy as she hears your eagerness to join them. "Fantastic!" she exclaims, her tone filled with warmth. "The kids will be thrilled."

Megan drops you off at the lot. You show yourself to the studio room, and see Blake, Ryan, Hugh, and the kids.

The kids squeal with excitement as they spot you entering the studio room. They immediately break away from their parents and run towards you, calling out to you with big smiles on their faces.

Blake, Ryan, and Hugh all turn to see what the commotion is about, and their faces light up when they see you too.

Hugh can’t help but break out into a broad smile as soon as he sees you walk in. The sight of you always fills him with a mix of joy and desire, and he feels a small flutter of excitement in his chest.

Inez, the sweet and affectionate little girl, rushes up to you with her arms outstretched. She wraps them around your waist, giving you a tight hug. Her eyes light up with excitement, and a wide smile spreads across her face as she squeezes you. “See dad! I told you she was coming!”

Hugh chuckles at Inez's enthusiasm, looking amused at her excitement. He glances over at Ryan, who can't help but roll his eyes at his daughter's comment. "Well, I guess you were right, Inez," Hugh says with a smile. "Looks like your prediction came true."

You can’t help but meet his face with a wide smile. Hugh smiles back at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. He can’t help but feel a pang of desire as he gazes at you, especially after the last night together. But he quickly composes himself, hoping the others can’t notice the heat that’s suddenly coursing through him.

James, the observant little girl, watches Hugh’s eyes linger on you with a small smile on her face. She can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement as she imagines the two of you together, like the romance scenes she sees in her favorite Disney movies. Her imagination runs wild with thoughts of grand gestures and fairytale endings.

As you hold Inez in your arms, she clings to you with a smile on her face. She giggles and babbles as you make your way to the table where the rest of the group is seated. Blake and Ryan greet you with warm smiles, and Hugh can’t help but watch your every move with a mix of admiration and desire.

You take the seat next to Hugh. “Hey stranger.” Hugh chuckles at your greeting, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Hey yourself," he responds, his voice warm and friendly. "You’ve been hard to get ahold of lately." You shrug playing into his false words, “I told you, I stay busy. The pop star life is very demanding.”

Hugh nods in understanding, a mix of amusement and admiration in his eyes as he looks at you. "Yeah, tell me about it," Ryan says, his tone a little playful. "Too busy even for me. I thought I was on your priority list." You smile at your brother, “you wish.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and shakes his head, amused by your witty response. But there’s a hint of playfulness in his tone as he replies. "Hey, I deserve to be at the top of that list," he says, feigning hurt.

Hugh and Blake smile at your exchange with Ryan, knowing that despite the banter, there’s a strong love and bond between siblings. They watch as Ryan continues to playfully pout, clearly enjoying his moment of mock wounded pride.

As lunch was served, the group digs in with relish. The food is delicious, and everyone starts enjoying their meal. The conversation flows easily, a mix of laughter and chatter filling the air.

Your hand casually moves across the table and lands lightly on Hugh's thigh, a subtle gesture that goes unnoticed by others around you. As your fingers squeeze gently, the suggestive touch leaves no doubt about your intentions.

He manages to compose himself, trying to keep his reaction hidden from the others. But on the inside, he can't help but feel a rush of desire and excitement at your touch.

Hugh's mind drifts to the memory of the previous night, the feel of your body pressed against his and the taste of your lips on his skin. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, the memories and your proximity making it difficult to keep his desire in check.

Ryan looks to Hugh a he shifts, your remove your hand. “You alright, buddy?” Ryan asks Hugh. You turn to Hugh in fake concern.

*Hugh swallows hard, trying to maintain his cool exterior as he meets Ryan's gaze. He forces a casual smile and nods.*

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just have a bit of a stomach ache," he says, the lie slipping through his lips. The truth is, he's all too aware of your touch and the effect it's had on him. He can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and he silently prays that none of the others notice the effect you have on him.

Ryan looks at Hugh with a hint of skepticism, unsure whether to believe the stomach ache excuse. "You look a little flushed. If you need to go lie down, we can cover for you."

Hugh shakes his head quickly, the thought of being away from you for even a moment not an option in his mind.

"No, no. I'm fine, really," he insists, his voice a bit strained. "I don't want to leave you guys." He glances at you for a moment, the connection between you making it difficult to maintain his composure.

Blake shakes her head. “No, Hugh. If you’re feeling ill go lay down. You’ve been working yourself too hard.” Blake looks to you as she speaks your name. “She’ll make sure you get to your trailer.”

Hugh hesitates for a moment, torn between the desire to stay and the desire to be alone with you. He glances at you again, silently weighing his options. He knows that if he stays, he'll be unable to keep his growing desire in check. Especially if you keep your sneaky hands going on their endless exploration.

"Are you sure?" he asks, looking at you with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Of course we’re sure. You need to do what’s best for your body.” Hugh takes a deep breath, the feel of your hand on his shoulder sending a shiver down his spine. "Alright," he finally concedes, rising from his seat. "I'll go lie down for a bit." You stand as well, smiling at Ryan and Blake. “I’ll be right back.”

Ryan looks at you, about to object, but Blake's firm yet calming gesture quiets him. He trusts her judgment, even if he still has his reservations about you and Hugh being alone together.

As soon as your away from their prying eyes you latch onto Hugh’s arm with a giggle. Hugh glances over at you with a grin, the feel of your hands grasping his arm sending a jolt of excitement through his body. He leans in close to you, his voice a low whisper. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asks, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

“Forcing you to act like a teenager and sneak around with me? Absolutely.” You smirk, his trailer coming into view. Hugh laughs at your comment, the sound of your voice making his heart flutter. As you reach his trailer, he unlocks the door and ushers you inside.

"You know, you're going to get us into trouble one day," he teases, his tone filled with a mix of desire and excitement. As soon as the door closes behind you, Hugh wastes no time in pinning you against the wall. His body presses against yours, and his hands roam over your curves, feeling the heat emanating from your body.

"You have no idea the effect you have on me," he growls in your ear, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck.

You trail your hand down to his middle feeling the undeniable hardened member behind his pants. “Oh, I think I do.”

Hugh lets out a low moan as your hand makes its way to his groin, confirming his arousal. He is tenses, his body responding to your touch. His hands grip your hips, pulling you even closer against him. "You're driving me crazy," he whispers, his voice a rough husk of desire. "I can barely keep myself together when you're around."

You push Hugh away, he steps back, surprised by your sudden push. He looks at you with a mixture of confusion and desire, his eyes dark with want. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice betraying a hint of frustration and arousal.

You smirk, “nothing at all.” You push him to sit on the couch in the trailer. You sit on your knees between his legs, his eyes widening as you settle between them, your actions sending a thrill through his body. He watches you with a mixture of surprise and anticipation, his breathing quickening as he imagines what you have in mind.

With confident hands, you unbuckled his belt, your fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper of his pants. The sound of the zipper was like a promise of pleasure to come. As you pulled down his pants and boxers, his thick, erect cock sprang free, straining towards you.

You gazed up at Hugh, your eyes sparkling with desire through your lashes. "May I?" you asked, your voice hoarse with anticipation.

He nodded, his breath coming in short gasps. "Please."

You leaned forward, your tongue darting out to tease the tip of his cock. You savored the taste of him, the salty sweetness driving you wild. With one hand, you cupped his balls, massaging them gently as your mouth descended, taking him in.

Hugh's hands gripped the sofa cushions, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain control. "Fuck, that's incredible," he groaned.

Your lips and tongue worked in unison, sliding up and down his length, sucking and swirling, taking him deeper with each stroke. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, a sign of his impending release.

"Oh God, you're amazing," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'm not going to last much longer."

You increased your pace, your hand stroking the base of his shaft as your mouth worked feverishly. You wanted to taste his cum, to feel his release on your tongue.

With a guttural groan, Hugh's hips thrust forward, his cock pulsating as he exploded in your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, relishing the warmth of his seed, the taste of his pleasure.

He sank back onto the sofa, his eyes closed as he savored the aftermath of his orgasm. You sat back on your heels, a satisfied smile on your face, knowing you had given him an experience he wouldn't soon forget.

You rest your head on his thigh and smile up at him, “feeling better?” Hugh laughs lightly, reaching down to run his fingers through your hair. "Much better," he replies, his voice tinged with a touch of amusement. "Thanks to you, and that mouth of yours."

As you stand, you can't help but feel a pang of reluctance. You know that your time with Hugh must come to an end, and you also know that you'll have to return to Ryan soon. However, you try to push the feeling aside, wanting to savor the moment with Hugh for as long as possible.

Despite knowing that your time together was coming to an end, Hugh reaches out to you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close for a final, passionate kiss.

His lips move tenderly but firmly against yours, conveying a mixture of love and desire. As the kiss deepens, he reluctantly pulls away, their foreheads resting together for a few moments.

As a slightly teasing grin spreads across his face, Hugh reminds you, "Don’t forget about our dinner on Friday."

He can’t help the hint of excitement in his voice as he reminds you of the date you’ve both been looking forward to for so long. The prospect of a night alone together, without any need to hide or sneak around, excites him.

A sly smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you assure him, "Oh, I’ll definitely remember, don’t worry."

You hold his gaze, a hint of mischief sparkling in your eyes. The thought of your upcoming date fills you with excitement and anticipation, and you know it’s written all over your face.

As you reach the trailer door, you turn to Hugh with a playful smirk on your face. "You better call me later," you tease, your tone light but with a hint of command.

You want to hear his voice, to continue the warmth and intimate feeling of your night together. Although you don’t want to say goodbye, you know you have to.

Hugh grins at your question, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he nods in agreement. "You can count on it," he replies with a warm smile.

He watches as you move towards the door, his eyes following your every move. The thought of the promised phone call later both excites him and serves as a reassurance that your connection will continue even after parting ways.

You just had to wait for Friday.

[haddonfieldwhore]

surprise - ethan landry

🔪❗️SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6 ❗️🔪

🔪❗️SPOILERS FOR SCREAM 6 ❗️🔪

heavily insp. @gothicknightz

warnings: blood, violence, death, language, last warning- major spoilers for the movie, although some of the plot is changed/not exact, i don’t like how this turned out so let me know what you think

blood dripped down your arm from a knife wound you’d failed to avoid as you ran from the pair of killers. the two of them wiped the blood from their knives in sync as you and sam tried to pull tara away from chad who lay bleeding out on the floor at their feet.

“go!” you yelled, pushing the sisters in front of you back towards the main room of the theatre. the three of you were in the center of the room as kirby, bleeding from her forehead stumbled into the room holding a gun. through the locked gate behind you, detective bailey entered the theatre, his gun pointed toward kirby as she returned the gesture. it was all a blur as detective bailey shot kirby, and one of the ghostfaces entered the room to stand next to him. same and tara muttered words of disbelief.

not noticing the other one sneak up behind you, arms wrapped around your waist and you felt the cold sensation of a knife being held against your throat. you screamed as you were held tight by the killer, unable to move without the blade digging into your neck. sam and tara stared at you, moving to help but stopping when faced with a gun and two knife wielding killers.

still holding you with one arm, the ghostface who had you reached up and removed their mask, and your heart dropped.

“e..ethan?” you stuttered, as you slid down to sit at the floor at his feet, the knife still held to your throat. your legs couldn’t hold you up anymore, and you realized you had a knife wound on your leg that you hadn’t noticed until now; the adrenaline having blocked out the pain. but it all came crashing down on you now as you looked up at your boyfriend in shock.

“surprise- my names not ethan landry!” ethan explained. “it really wasn’t that hard to juke the roommate lottery. and to think, all i had to do was room with a condescending alpha, literally names chad; fuck it felt good to kill him!” than yelled, smiling.

“so that means…..” sam looked at the other masked killer. “…mindy?” she asked in disbelief; by process of elimination, she was the only one of the friend group left. the killer removed their mask to reveal the identity of the final ghostface.

“quinn? but - you died,” tara said in shock, as the ginger girl shook her hair out from under the costume.

“kinda didn’t,” she shrugged. “easy way to get off the suspect list though.” quinn laughed.

detective bailey taunted sam, the older carpenter sister putting the pieces together that the three killers were richie’s family, richie having been the killer in the last ghostface killing spree back in woodsboro, as well as having pretended to be sams boyfriend to get close to her. now they wanted revenge for sam killing richie. sam began to shit talk richie to his father, calling him pathetic and a man baby, before quinn and detective bailey attacked sam and tara.

“ethan…” you groaned, feeling the effects of the few knife wounds you had. he crouched down behind you, positioning you between his knees as hi stroked your hair with the hand that held the knife; his other arm still holding you tight so you could run away.

“shhhh,” he cooed next to your ear, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “i never wanted you to get hurt -“ he whispered, placing the knife back to your throat as he watched sam come back towards the two of you. “stay there, sam!” ethan threatened. neither you or ethan noticed tara creeping behind ethan, a brick in her hand ready to swing at his head. the hit never came though, because as sam stepped closer to grab you from ethan, your hand wrapped around ethan’s on the handle of the knife and drove it into her stomach.

“no!” tara yelled from behind you, before being tackled by quinn, who you noticed was bleeding from her mouth and missing a few teeth. sam looked up at you and ethan in shock, before you kicked her backwards, a spray of blood coming out of her stomach with the knife as she fell onto the ground. detective bailey joined the chaos in the room, looking proudly at you and ethan as your boyfriend extended a hand to help you up off the ground. his arms wrapped around you to hold you up on your injured leg, and he pressed his lips to yours in a heated kiss.

“you too?” sam asked as ethan handed you a spare knife.

“not exactly,” you started to explain, but detective bailey took over.

“think of this as an initiation; sure ethan trusted them, even told them it was him, back at your apartment.” he laughed. “i mean it was kinda obvious though- them being the only one who didn’t wind up with any major injuries and all.” detective bailey gave ethan a look as if to criticize the fact that he left you relatively unharmed. “i will say though; they’re quite a convincing actor.” he gestured to you.

“you knew- after anika? after we thought quinn..” tara yelled. “why?”

“what can i say, tara.” you laughed.

“the things we do for love.”

[murfeelee]

IWTV 2022 INSP - Driving Lessons

*tires screeching* Claudia: *cackles* Lestat: Just steer, steer! Claudia: Ugh! But we're immortal, Uncle Les! Lestat: You can still smash your pretty little head and then take long, dull months to recover--eyes on the road! *arrives at Lovers Lane* Lestat: Now, here's a treat I think you're ready for. This is what the meat calls a "lover's lane", and by my estimation, no blood is sweeter. Young people, swollen with passion, denied spirits by this senseless Prohibition, park along this lonely stretch to contemplate that most mysterious of mathematical equations: How one plus one...becomes one. Claudia: ....They come out here to do math? Lestat: You've been too sheltered, my belladonnic beauty.... You must be most ferocious. Man: Jesus! You gonna stand there watchin', little girl? Where's your momma? Woman: She just crawl out of the swamp or somethin'? Claudia: *evil grin* *SCREAMS!* Lestat: *whistling* Woman: Oh, mister! There's something back there--something evil! Lestat: Ahhh, yes.... She's with me!

– Interview with the Vampire: S01E04

MY THOUGHTS & CC CREDITS

MY THOUGHTS

I've been meaning to return to my IWTV gameplay for months, and make gameplay pics from my last IWTV machinima's outtakes. But I kept getting sidetracked with other projects--it's great that I stay inspired to sim, but it's effing annoying when I get overwhelmed with all the stuff I want to be doing and never get to. U_U

CC CREDITS (no links cuz hella sleepy)

Car (IIRC by LiKo?)

SLS Capaon Anghofion world

Poses (IDER, too lazy)

[incorrectcharmingfamilyquotes]

David: *standing at the door, watching Emma and Neal say goodnight after their date*

Emma: Well, I enjoyed our dinner.

Neal: Yes, it was a wonderful date.

Emma: Yes. *shakes his hand and walks inside* He's a lovely young man.

David: Why is your shirt inside out?

Emma: ...Goodnight, Dad.

[knives-out-incorrect-quotes]

Ransom: God, I'm such an idiot! [looks expectantly at Marta]

Marta:

Ransom:

Marta: If you're waiting for me to disagree, it's gonna be a long night.

[carnal-lnstinct]

♫ ☆ insp ☆ ♫

"If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting"

Sometimes it almost feels like he could fall out of his dreamy thoughts, and he would find the harsh Vampa sun on his skin. Then, the old man's voice would carry from some distance away or close by, maybe echo off the open cave walls to summon him back to his side. He'd immediately start throwing out orders to get this or take out another beast, or just rant about the day they would finally leave this forsaken planet for something better. Cursing the saiyan king's name came up mostly, but maybe Paragus' spirits were well enough some days to share a tale or two about the small things he had gone without and taken for granted over the last forty-plus years. Some things they should be sure to take advantage of when they got the chance. It made Paragus smile when he talked about the good of his prior life, his tone less grouchy and Broly could stand to listen more closely. His imagination could paint a picture of things he never saw from the way Paragus explained the many worlds beyond this planet, but that smile of his dad's was crystal clear above it all. Happy, and hopeful.

Broly didn't expect he could miss that after everything. Those same old stories over and over while they force down more scraps to keep their strength up for another day. Among the horrors they endured for years, Paragus was the one to keep up the spark of hope and pride for their future. Maybe it was just the older saiyan's wishful thinking and general spite to keep going, but there was so much they were supposed to do when they finally left Vampa.

Broly now gets to wake up in a place where the sun isn't so hot on his skin. There were soft places to sit and rest on and more varieties of food than he knows what to do with. And there were...friends. He never imagined having so many people wanting to care for him and help him towards a better place. But not his father. Paragus was always meant to do that and guide him through the unknown worlds, retrace all the steps back to where he was happy. He was supposed to be here for these better times in wonderful places. Their freedom to finally enjoy it all was so brief, Paragus' death leaving nothing but guilt in Broly. How could he allow himself to fully enjoy the beautiful mysteries of the universe when it was stolen from his father again?

For everything good that came in failing to fulfill his purpose, the only thing he was trusted to do by his father, Broly was left hollow in his grief. All Broly ever had to do was keep himself and his father safe. No one could change his mind about it or how deeply his remorse ached inside him. In the end, Broly deemed himself a failure. Yet he is the one who gets to enjoy the new worlds. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

All that is left for him is to just "be better" than what was put on him and it would somehow solve his problems. Friends and really good food made it easier, and he was excited to finally enjoy training again but truthfully it made him miss his father more.

As he lingered in his sorrows, Broly's memory surfaced older things from when he was still small enough to be toted around in the old man's arms. That made him smile. Even when he was afraid to fight or fussy against the orders put on him, he remembered that gruff voice of Paragus voicing how proud he was of him.

Then Broly stopped smiling. Clutched in the saiyan's hands was the robe last worn by Paragus, all that Broly could keep with him when he was able to recover it upon returning to Earth. He hung onto the way his father spoke so grandly of his strong and combative son and holding the cloth made it sound real again. Before his unruly power started to frighten Paragus. Before sparring with Ba was wrong.

He let himself forget about that...How could he? Broly can't "wake up" in the cave to his father calling his name now. Paragus can not tell him how proud he is.

He failed. He's gone.

"Broly." You knocked on the door before slowly pushing it open to enter, finding the tall saiyan sitting along the edge of his bed. "Oh good, you are up! Lunch is..." Your voice trailed to silence at the sight before you. In a defeated slump, the wild head of hair gently turns toward you with watery eyes catching the light coming through the doorway. He's stuck in the heavy sensation pulling in his chest and it overwhelms him in your presence. "What's the matter? Did you hurt yourself?"

He tried to keep himself together under your gaze, his fingers curling tightly in the light-color fabric until they trembled. His composure ultimately disintegrated as the first heavy tears fell from his face into the robe and he lowered his head. You reacted without thought, moving in closer with your arms opening to him. Broly could only lean in towards you burying his face into his father's remaining possession and sinking into your arms.

"My dad..." His sob was muffled in the cloth pushed into his face. "I-...He was..."

"Oh no, no it's okay. It's okay, Broly." You softened your voice and drew his head onto your shoulder. Grief like this could be so heavy to bear alone, hearing him give in to his cries filled your own eyes with warm tears. But it was necessary for him. The best you could do was just to help ease the loneliness of it. You blinked to keep your tears at bay and rubbed a consoling hand along his large back as much as you could reach and as long as was needed. "It's going to be alright. Take your time, I'm right here."

[thedevilliers]

ORIGINS — EPISODE TWO

ep. 2: wolf in sheep’s clothing / insp. transcript under the cut ↓ previous / next

Magnolia conquered both Narcisos and Geronia within days. Peonia was the sole territory able to withstand the attacks by engaging in naval warfare against them.

Magnolia agreed to a peace agreement with Peonia, on the condition they’d be a sovereign nation to them. After this, the First General was annointed as King of Gardania, now known as King Edmund I.

He decided to hold a competition among the different territories; they were to send each one candidate for Queen Consort. Some were chosen from high-ranking families, while others volunteered.

[STEWARD] The final candidate, representing Narcisos and the House of d’Evilliers, Lady Aelin. [AELIN] Your Grace. [EDMUND] Lady Aelin.

Aelin was her father’s right hand, he had taught her everything he knew up until the day he died. She was smart, conniving at times even, and knew how to use her beauty to her advantage.

She knew she had everything to be the Queen, she only had to win Edmund’s heart. And so she did.

She was friendly, which made her stand out from the other ladies to Edmund. They all flirted with him while with Aelin he felt as if he could have a real conversation. She gained his trust easily, followed by his heart.

She believed she was going to be the one ultimately chosen by him. Until one night, she heard rumors of him also visiting Lady Catherine of Geronia. In truth, she was angry. Who was this man to play with her feelings?

[shes smirking here and he lookin real worried after i liquify] She let him know she’d be sure Lady Catherine would make a fine Queen and thanked him for his hospitality these last few months. She didn’t turn around even though he asked her to stay. She knew what she was doing.

The next day, the King officially announced their betrothal; she was the winner. She was to be the first Queen of Gardania. She expected to be treated as his equal, just like her father did towards her mother.

She was more of an accessory to him. His affections towards her slowly started decreasing due to her ‘insistent and unasked’ advice and propositions. He even sent her away temporarily to Montpelier.

He could try and avoid her all he wanted but he knew he couldn’t escape Aelin. She was with child and carrying his heir, there was no moment Aelin didn’t use this to advantage.

While she was pregnant, he signed The First Succession Act, establishing male primogeniture in Gardania; only sons would be allowed to be heir to the Crown. With this act, regency was also introduced in case the heir hadn’t reached maturity.

He established the House of Clermont, a name Aelin did not agree with. To appease her, he made her old house, d'Evilliers, their new house’s surname.

Things were going just like she planned to.

[recapitulation]

[id: gifs from the series “The Untamed.” Each feature a specific character. The background is edited to heavily accent a single color, the foreground features a diamond black-and-white gif of the same character with a black diamond shadow, there is calligraphic script signifying the name of a tarot card, and below this a few key meanings from the card.

The first gif shows Jiang Cheng, who in the background is glaring at Wen Ning (gif accenting purple) and in the foreground shows him blindfolded. The text reads, "The Star," and then "loss | abandonment | inspiration." The next shows Nie Huaisang, who in the background is looking to the side discerningly (gif accenting red) and in the foreground is looking over his fan cautiously. The text reads, "Judgement," and then "causality | karma | judgement."

The third shows Wen Ning, who in the background is blinking with his hair down (gif accenting green in the trees behind him) and in the foreground is looking up at Jiang Cheng after he knocks him down. The text reads, "The Hierophant," and then "mercy | goodness | captivity." The next is Jiang Yanli, who in the background is smiling and looking to the side (gif accenting light blue) and in the foreground is crying and smiling at Wei Wuxian. The text reads, "Temperance," and then, "balance | accommodation | gentleness."

The fifth shows Lan Xichen, who in the background is looking to the side cautiously as Jin Zixun offers Lan Wangji a drink (the gif is accented purple). The foreground shows him speaking seriously. The text reads, "The Emporer," and then "protection | leadership | power." The next shows Lan Sizhui, who in the background is smiling at Wei Wuxian (the gif accented orange) and in the foreground is standing with the wind whipping his hair around. The text reads, "The Sun," and "joy | success | truth."

The seventh shows Luo Qingyang, who in the background is smiling widely (gif accented bright pink) and in the foreground is speaking angrily. The text reads, "The Hanged Man," and then "sacrifice | metamorphosis | discernment." The next shows Wei Wuxian, who in the background is crying as he speaks to the hallucination of his sister (the gif accented deep red) and in the foreground is stalling leaving the room while looking at Lan Wangji. The text reads, "The Tower," and then "broken pride | upheaval | change of life."

The ninth shows Lan Wangji, who in the background is looking up at the sky (the gif accented deep blue) and in the foreground is holding the stick in front of him as punishment. The text reads, "Justice," and then, "fairness | responsibility | virtue." The last shows Wen Qing, who in the background is looking down at a paralyzed Wei Wuxian (gif accented dark red) and in the foreground is standing with a fierce expression. The text reads, "The High Priestess," and then, "science | tenacity | intuition." /end id]

Favorite Characters + Tarot

[insp: x, x, x, x, x] [shl version]

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Sparkles in the Dark (Marcus Volturi x Reader)

WARNING: This has some seriously DARK THEMES. Mentions of kidnapping, human trafficking, trauma, child neglect, alcohol abuse.  But i do promise a happy ending.

INSP.: The game Fragile and Little Misfortune.

Song mentioned is Shiny Happy People - Reuben and the Dark x AG cover

It's rare for someone to have a very unfortunate life yet see the good in everything. It takes a lot for someone to find light in the darkness but takes an even more special kind of person to create light in the darkness. 

The cold raindrops ran down your face. The rain was bad that day, clouds smothering every bit of the sky. It was the middle of the afternoon, yet it looked like it was approaching nightfall by the minute. You didn't mind the rain too much, it was the cold. You walked alone down the street, blending with others surrounding you. Some hurrying to get out of the rain, some disgruntled being outside for whatever reason and then there was the few who didn't seem to care about the rain. You didn't leave with a suitable jacket and therefore it took no time for you to become drenched. 

You hadn't noticed someone watching you from across the street. Nor had you noticed when they headed in the same direction. No one else seemed to notice the person either, all too busy wrapped in their own thoughts and lives to take notice. You crossed the road, moving to the opposite street before descending the stairs that lead to under the bridge. A shortcut for you to get home, the stream below the bridge had been drained leaving a dirt path. 

Keeping your eyes to the ground, you hadn't noticed the man standing under the bridge until he moved further into your path, straightening up from leaning under the bridge. You met his gaze, but before you could step back, you heard footsteps behind you. You turned around and with seconds, the man previously in front of you lifted you, covering your mouth. 

Days later, you were added to the streets that were covered in papers of pictures the names of missing children. One of many children who were yet to be found. You were fifteen years old and last seen on school grounds. All surrounding towns and cities were notified, your face littered along with many other children's faces on almost every street and every public property. So many missing children was starting to get much more media attention. Especially as all disappeared under mysterious circumstances. 

As far as police investigation, the same people were likely responsible for these disappearances but each case was growing cold by the day. Your story was a sad one for you were an easier target than some of the kids. Your father was gone, he had been for days and it wasn't any new behaviour. Your father often went away for days at a time. Your mother was an alcoholic. It took a phone call from your school for her to notice she hadn't seen you since the previous morning. Whilst the school claimed you hadn't turned up for school the next day and asking why your mother hadn't called you in sick. It took further questioning from the police when she filed your missing persons report for her to face that she was more than negligent to her only child. The alcohol being her one priority. 

Carlisle and a few others of the Cullen's couldn't help but grimace hearing about the condition of your parents. It only got worse when your neighbours were eager to call out your parents. Some were determined you were dead, your mother probably killing you. Some feeling sympathy for you but not your mother. Others weren't surprised you were gone, hoping you had simply ran away. By that point the darkest of secrets were arising and no one was sure if it were rumour or fact. 

Your mother had made it clear that she had never wanted children. She wasn't maternal and didn't particularly like them to begin with. Her child was no different. She partied and enjoyed the party life. Being a parent, forced her out of that lifestyle and every bottle reminded her of what she was missing. She chased every drink like it was her lifeline and perhaps in her eyes, it was. She was in a relationship with your father who wasn't supposed to be anything but a night of fun. Your grandparents insisted she kept the baby and therefore sealing your mother's fate. 

Your father was an angry man who didn't want to be tied down to anything. He'd always come back the moment where ever he was at would no longer extend it's welcome. With both parents at home, it was no place for a child. 

It's impact upon you was evident but not necessarily in a negative way. You were fifteen but you could be quite child-like with even the simplest of things such as the way you talked. Much like a young child, you saw the best in everyone and everything. The world was beautiful and everyone had good intentions deep down- even if they didn't show it. Whilst you had the intelligence of the average fifteen year old, you were slower at learning. Therefore, required a little more patience. Most would get the impression that you were naive and that was correct. Little did people know that you displayed such behaviour because you had taught yourself. Your parents giving up by the time you had learned manners. 

The only real learning of positive attributes came from your teachers. That being said, you were outcast from your class mates and others your age. You were just a little too different, lost in your own head for anyone to really want to bond with you. Some going as far to think you were a little kid in a teenage body. However it was worth mentioning how kind you were, treating everyone like gold. Even if someone was mean to you, you rarely retaliated. 

Carlisle could barely believe his eyes when he saw you nine months later. You were stood in an alleyway, no one seemed notice you. Once again, the rain was pouring down. He couldn't feel it, but Carlisle knew it was cold outside. Your hands were latched onto one another, tugging your sleeves down on a hoodie that was simply too small. It clung to your body much like your hair did. You looked lost and Carlisle caught on immediately what you were doing. You were waiting for someone. Carlisle had no doubt whoever you were waiting on was bad news. Especially given the cuts, scrapes and bruises littered around your face. He knew he had to do something since no one else would. No one had seen him make his way to that alley, nor did anyone notice when you were suddenly gone. 

The Cullen's were stunned when Carlisle returned home with you. One of the many missing kids. You had been gone for nine months and the investigation was narrowing down the possibility that you were taken into human trafficking or you were dead. Both terrible fates. 

Esme was the first to jump into action with Carlisle, as you shook violently from the cold, your soaking clothes sticking to you. You didn't seem even surprised that you had been taken by Carlisle. You weren't even afraid. "I'm a doctor. I can help you." Carlisle said, tilting your head to look at him as Esme grabbed multiple towels. "(Y/N)? Isn't that your name?" 

It became the topic if many conversations with Carlisle and his family just why he took you instead of taking you to the police or even the hospital. The answer came to Carlisle rather swiftly, despite the debate still on going in his mind. He knew it was wrong. He had basically kidnapped you from your kidnappers and brought you to an unknown location in your eyes. Although with everything he had heard about your parents and the history he had with his own. Carlisle couldn't bring himself to hand you back to them, knowing that your parents had many issues and despite you being missing, they hadn't budged on anything such as regret. They had a hard time convincing anyone that they wanted their child back. In his eyes, he'd have been doing you a disservice and given what he knew of your case, you needed as much support as he could possibly give. Although that still raised the same issue that whilst no one had recognised you then, you couldn't walk around Forks. You would eventually be recognised. It had been one of the most difficult decisions he had ever had to make. 

You clutched Carlisle's hand as the two of you were led to the throne room by Demetri and Felix. You kept your head down, not meeting anyone's eyes. Demetri's eyes were set on you. "Come along." Carlisle said to you quietly, lightly tugging you forward with him "Where are we?" You asked quietly, the two guards instantly hearing your child-like voice with slight surprise. Even Jane sounded older. "We're in Italy." Carlisle responded. "Woah...the country that looks like a boot?" You looked up at him briefly and Carlisle smiled. "Yes, (Y/N)." "Do they need anything?" Demetri asked, casting his gaze to your face. Carlisle recognised that both guards were staring, the injuries in your face still healing and visible. Carlisle turned to you."(Y/N), do you need anything? A glass of water?" "No, thank you." You chirped your gaze falling to the floor. "Thank you." Carlisle nodded to Demetri. 

"Carlisle, dear friend. It's wonderful to see you again." Aro rose from his chair, descending the steps to greet his friend. "Likewise, Aro." Carlisle nodded with a small smile, half the size of Aro's. "This must be the little one you told us about." Aro smiled down at you. You kept your head down. Caius was about to make comment for such insolence but Carlisle was quick to explain. "(Y/N) struggles with being the centre of attention. They'll warm up to you in no time." Carlisle gave Aro his free hand, dropping his grip on you to turn his sole attention to the Volturi leaders. Aro quickly took his hand. You fidgeted with your fingers but your head had begun to lift. Marcus couldn't help but watch you, as did Caius. Marcus stood up, descending the stairs much more calmly than Aro had, approaching you. Your gaze stayed fixed on your fingers. 

Marcus bent down ever so slightly so he wasn't towering over you. "It's very nice to meet you, little one. My name is Marcus. What is your name?" You lifted your eyes to meet his gaze, showing your face fully to him. However he didn't recoil, or stare like you had two heads. He remained encouraging despite being angered by the marks on your face. "I'm (Y/N)." You replied. "That's a wonderful name." Marcus replied before looking over his shoulder to look at Caius but nod towards you at the same time. Signalling for him to come and meet you. Caius sighed but stood up and made his way towards you. "Do you like it here?" Marcus asked you, his eyes moved to you. "It's very pretty! I liked the lanterns down the street." "I'm glad you like it. Lanterns you say?" "Yes, they're red and all down the street. Didn't you see them?" Marcus cracked a slight smile. "I'm afraid I don't go outside very often, my dear. I haven't seen them." Marcus gestured to Caius. "This is my brother Caius as well as my brother, Aro." "You don't look alike." You noted. "Not by blood." Caius responded. "We have spent a lot of years together, that is what makes us brothers." "Do you have any brothers or sisters (Y/N)?" Marcus asked. "No." You responded. "My mum didn't want kids. When I came along she was very upset and said I ruined her life." It wasn't a nice thing to say, nor should anyone ever say such things to their child. Yet you smiled at them as though it was normal, like talking about the weather. Even Caius couldn't keep a scowl upon his face, the shock of a statement making those in the room falter. Aro broke away from Carlisle. "Why don't we take go and take this in a more comfortable place? I believe we have much to talk about." 

"I realized they couldn't stay with me when I discovered they were gifted. As you saw, such a gift can't be hidden nor is (Y/N) one to be held back in such ways." Carlisle said to the three leaders, now in Aro's personal study. "Yes, I believe this to be the case friend." Aro pondered. "However, as you have said before. This child has endured many things children shouldn't. Can you say for certain they'd do well in our care?" "I believe that with the amount of guards and amongst your coven that (Y/N) will have the support they need. The require stability, a safe place they can be themselves above anything." 

Aro moved towards you on the other side of the room, kneeling in front of your sitting form. "Might I have your hand, little one? I have a gift to see your mind with touch." You looked uncertain at first before holding out your hand. He took it carefully, hoping not to startle you. "I see you have a gift too." He mustered a smile which made Caius and Marcus very wary. "I make things sparkle! I make them happy!" You replied cheerfully. "Oh? Can you show me?" You held your hand up, palm down and level with your forehead. With a wiggle of your fingers gold sparkles twinkled down. "That's beautiful and it makes people happy?" “I wave my hand and whatever the sparkles touch becomes happy. I brought happiness to the soup i had for dinner once!" You grinned waving your hand over Aro's head, the sparkles landed on him. To his surprise he felt it, like a quick sharp sting of something hot but it oddly was so small it wasn't unpleasant. However he couldn't deny the overwhelming amount of happiness he felt. It reminded him of Didyme. He couldn't help but grow more and more fond of your ability. 

As Marcus, Caius, Aro and Carlisle spoke further about you possibly being in their care as well as your difficult past, Demetri and Felix were sent to show around the castle. Making sure you knew the layout of the place. It had been going well. You were a pleasant human to be around. However, the two guards were stunned again when showing you the dungeons. You wanted to go in and see and thankfully, it was empty so the two agreed. "You won't be allowed down here. It's not safe." Felix told you as they followed you down the stone steps. You looked around the cells. The place significantly darker than anywhere else in the castle, some corners and walls weren't even visible. Shadows overtaking the room. The left wall caught your attention. The stone walls not visible due to the lack of light and stone floor. You pressed against the bars of the cell. "That looks like my room." You said aloud. The two guards were alarmed both looking between you and the cell. "Your room back with your parents?" Felix asked, the two guards coming to either side of you. You shook your head. "No. The room with those people." They two caught on. The people who had taken you. "You were held in somewhere like this? With bars?" "No bars, it wasn’t a cell. It was a long room, with stone walls and floors. About the size of this corridor and these three cells put together." You said simply. The two guards were in disbelief with how nonchalant you were speaking about being held hostage. "There were other kids there, most were younger than me. The kids before put tally marks on the walls, we could only see them in daylight. They left notes too." "The kids before you got there?" Demetri asked. "Yes. Some of us were there for months, some only days." "Where did they go?" Felix asked softly and you shrugged. "Probably dead." "Are you afraid? When you think of that place and see this place now?" "I'm used to the dark...although i don’t like it." You responded. "This place isn't so bad though. Carlisle said you guys might take care of me." "That's true." Felix responded. "Which is why you don't have to fear this place, or us. We won't hurt you." 

The rest of the tour was light-hearted. Or at least it was to you. Whilst watching you be in awe with the decor and every tiny detail of the castle, what you had said in the dungeons had stuck in the two guards minds. The two each sharing looks every now and then hoping to ease the discomfort. Of course the incident was reported back to the leaders but no one pushed you further on it. 

 Eventually the decision was to keep you under their care. The world was cruel and if anyone could shield you from it, it was the Volturi. Although not everyone was so enamored with you. The twins held no interest in you and no interest of being kind either. Caius was slowly but surely warming up to having you around. Everyone else was somewhat kind or enamored with you. Thinking you were the most wonderful child they had even known. Marcus being the most fond of you of them all. He couldn't describe the instinct to protect you nor could he stop himself either. Whilst Aro had seen inside your head and knew what you had thought and felt your whole life, none of the leaders thought it healthy for you to keep it bottled up. Therefore they asked that if it was on your mind, draw it, write it, speak to them about it. Caius was the first to see this in action. You had a nightmare the night before and so you drew what had been on your mind ever since that dream. 

When you gave it to Caius, he was silent for a while, looking at the drawing. You had drawn the room you were held in. The place pitch black, tally marks on the walls and hay. "Did you dream you were back there last night?" Caius asked. You shook your head. "No. That was something else, I was just thinking about it today." "Alright, what did you dream about last night?" Caius tugged you to him gently before looking down at your drawing in his hands. "I tried to escape once." You admitted flatly. "I got out of the room and it took them fifteen minutes to find me. When they did, they set their big dogs on me. They bit me, made me bleed. That nightmare always ends the same, their sharp teeth sinking into my arms and legs and pulling me around, their saliva going everywhere." Caius' eyes were on you at the mention alone of dogs. His hatred for them going beyond just wolves and to any large dog. You rolled up your sleeves revealing puncture scars across your arms. "They train those dogs to do that you know. The guard dogs? Those dogs in particular were trained to make you bleed. I was told if I ever did it again, I'd be dead before I knew it." Caius lightly trailed a finger across the scars. Recalling his own scars from the sinking of teeth. "I am afraid of those dogs but I feel bad because those people could be very mean to them too." Caius slowly took your wrists into his hands. "You don't need to be afraid of them, or those people. They'll never hurt you again. I was attacked by wolves. I hunted every last one of them. So don't live in fear of the dogs or the people who own them. You're safe now and we won't let anything happen to you." Caius noted the relief in your eyes. 

A few around you wondered if you were having a difficult day. Drawing, as you always did, just the movement of your hands seemingly being enough to distract you. However these weren’t the gentle scraping of pencil against paper they were used to. Demetri and Felix turned their heads at the quickening of your scribbling along with the quickening of your heartbeat. Your breathing became shallowed. Suddenly you were pressing too hard on the paper, your actions more violent.  “Hey...hey.” Felix said, lifting your hands off the page. He had crouched to your level on the floor and Demetri followed suit, a hand on your back. You’re expression was empty but your eyes could only be described as empty.  “You’re okay, kiddo.” Felix said. “Why don’t we take a walk, hm?” Demetri asked. Slowly you nodded and Felix helped you up. 

The TV caught your eye passing another of the many living rooms. You found Afton, Alec and Chelsea in the room.  “Would you like to say hello?” Demetri asked and you nodded before walking in with or without Demetri and Felix.  “Hello, sweetheart.” Chelsea smiled at you. However the TV had your attention. You got closer to the TV, immediately kneeling on the floor.  “Not too close, little one.” Demetri warned. “You’ll hurt your eyes.” Whether you heard him remained unknown. You seemed to recognise the song on the TV. The Volturi guards watched you.  “They must  recognise this song.” Chelsea stated.  “We certainly don’t.” Alec grumbled.  ‘Gold and silver shine...’  “Well would you look at that.” Felix smiled as the group noticed you began to relax your shoulders.  “Do you like this song, sweetness?” Chelsea smiled again. You didn’t answer but the soft smile growing on your face told them their answer.  ‘shiny happy people holding hands.’ At first they thought it was the TV reflecting off of you. However they quickly realised this wasn’t the case. ‘shiny happy people holding hands.’ The group couldn’t believe it, you were glowing before their very eyes, just like your gift but like it couldn’t be contained. They could only stare and after a few seconds it faded, you were back to normal.  ‘shiny happy people laughing.’  “Well would you look at that?” Felix grinned at the other vampires. Little did you know, they made sure to note it down. 

Before the guards even had the opportunity to tell the leaders what they had discovered, the leaders witnessed it for themselves as you began to glow whilst clinging to Marcus tightly in a hug, grinning up at him. It had left Marcus in complete awe. A warmth in his heart.  “How lovely.” Aro smiled. “Marcus needed that today I assure you, (Y/N).” You looked over at him in silent questioning as Marcus sighed, sending Aro a look.  “Are you sad today?” You asked looking back up at Marcus.  “It’s nothing to worry about, dear. I assure you.” Marcus said simply. You jumped as you waved your hand over Marcus' head. "Tada! Sparkly happiness for Marcus!" You grinned with pride. He felt it as soon as the sparks landed on him, an uplifting sensation that he hadn't felt in a long time. The same sensation he knew to be his beloved Didyme's gift. He felt a smile tug at his lips. "Thank you, dear. That's very kind of you." "You don't need to be sad!" You smiled brightly. It felt like a gift you hadn't even known you had given him. It was a gift to feel that happiness. Of that, he was sure. 

“I need you to watch (Y/N).” Marcus said, walking towards Caius. “Excuse me?” Caius raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t require assistance.” Marcus said simply. Before you could run off, he took your wrist before looking back at Caius expectantly. “I was going to visit Athenodora.” Caius said stiffly. “Then do so, take them with you. Athenodra hasn’t met them yet.” Marcus didn’t leave Caius any room to argue as he literally guided to towards Caius before he hurried past, telling you to behave over his shoulder. 

Caius sighed, his hand covering his face. "Well there goes my plan for today." "Plan? What plan!?" You asked brightly. "I was going to visit my wife before Marcus brought you to me." Caius replied. You gasped in excitement. "In the tower!? Like the princess in Rapunzel!?" "Yes, a tower. Although we use stairs." Caius grumbled. "Then let's go!" you jumped up from your seat and skipped out of the room. "I shouldn't have said anything." Caius groaned but felt you hadn't given him much choice to refuse. "At least try to contain yourself! Don't wander off from me, (Y/N)!" Caius called out, hurrying after you. 

"Hello, Afton!" You grinned at the man guarding the stairs to the tower. He smiled down at you in return with a quick hello. "Caius is taking me to see his wife!" "Reluctantly." Caius grumbled from behind you as Afton curtly bowed his head to Caius, allowing you both entry. You panted. "Ugh! So many stairs!" That was when you hurried in. "No, wait for-" Caius cut himself off with a frustrated sigh as you dived into the room without waiting for him or even so much as knocking before entering. 

Athenodora immediately giggled, stepping out of your way as you rushed towards the piano. "Cool piano!" As though testing it to be real, you played a couple of keys. "No! Don't touch that, I don't want you to break it." Caius chastised you hurriedly. "Who's this?" Athenodora smiled widely, Caius immediately noticing how her face lit up seeing you. "This is the human I've been telling you about. This is (Y/N). I intended to visit myself, cara mia but Marcus left me with them unexpectedly." Caius responded. You suddenly gasped, hurrying towards a gold horse displayed upon in of the tables in the room. "Whoa! He just needs a horn and then he's the best unicorn in the world!" You declared. "Don't touch that either, if you break it- I will never forgive you!" Caius said hurriedly as he moved towards you. Athenodora was absolutely enamored with you yet Caius looked as though seconds away from having a heart attack. You waved your hand above the gold horse. "Happy unicorn!" Little sparks rained down in the horse as you grinned, as though you could see something the others couldn't. Athenodora gasped, covering her mouth. "They're gifted!" "It's not that useful." Caius grumbled. You hurried over to the window. "How far up are we?" Immediately Caius blocked you from the window. "No, you don't go near windows whilst in here. I can't trust you with those either.” He steered you back into the middle of the room. "Do you play games in here?" You looked up at Caius. "No." Caius said firmly. "Come and meet my wife properly, it's rude not to." 

Athenodora smiled at you warmly. "Hello miss! Your dress is very pretty!" You smiled at her. "Hello, sweetheart. Thank you. It's so wonderful to meet you. How old are you?" "Fifteen!" You declared and Athenodora looked taken aback slightly, expecting you to respond with something a little younger. She had thought you were simply a little taller for your age. "I'll explain later, my love." Caius mumbled quietly, so quiet you couldn't hear him. "They have had a difficult childhood." Athenodora looked saddened by this but before the two could say anything else, your attention was brought to Athenodora's vanity which held her make up. You peered at yourself in the mirror. You picked up the red lipstick. "My mum had this same shade of lipstick." You said mostly to yourself. "She said it was for grown ups only. It was always on the cups around the house." You giggled. Athenodora and Caius moved closer. "Do you like make-up?" Athenodora asked and you wore a small smile. "A little. Mum said I wasn't allowed to touch it but I used to watch her put it on, sometimes to cover bruises." Athenodora's smile faltered, swallowing hard at the angelic smile you wore as you revealed something so dark it was then that Athenodora knew that Caius was being very cautious with his wording, especially around you.  "How about one day, I'll do your make up?" Athenodora offered with a small smile, immediately eager to cast away such an awful memory and replace it with a better one. Your eyes lit up, smile widened. "I would love that!" 

One day, Alec was leaning against the wall as you left the room. "Hello, Alec!" You said cheerfully. Alec's head turned towards you. Instead of giving a response, he rolled his eyes and focused on the ceiling. You swung slightly back and forth on your feet, clasping your hands before you. "It's not nice to ignore people." You said simply. Alec sighed. "How's your halo?" He turned his again again to sneer at you, his voice dripping in sarcasm. This time you didn't respond, giving him a look of slight confusion but remaining polite about it. "You're insufferable. Do you know that?" Alec asked. You said nothing and he continued. "I just called you insufferable and you just stand there smiling at me like an idiot." "Would you rather I was mean to you? I don't mind if you're mean to me Alec. You wouldn't be the first." "I don't care." Alec sneered again. You stared at him and it provoked Alec to continue. "Anything that's good will end and break in this world. Any who think otherwise are an idiot. You’re the worst of them all. You know how cruel the world can be yet you prance around like you don’t.”  The twins had made it clear they weren’t your biggest fans. Or at least that’s what everyone had thought. 

One night, Alec was distracted by your pounding heart. You room was right across from his so your heartbeat had become something he grew used to. Although it was pounding out of your chest. Alec decided he'd check in, it's be his own fault if something happened and he simply ignored it. He opened your door, peeking into your room. He was surprised to discover you weren't in bed. It was then he noticed you were standing with your back pressed against the wall, staring at nothing. Alec moved into the room and into your line of sight. "(Y/N)? Are you alright?" Alec asked. You stared on blankly at him, not giving a response. You didn't have an expression on your face, yet Alec knew deep down something had scared you. Your pounding heartbeat being his only clue. 

The three leaders turned to their left to see Alec with a look of unease. "Master, I think something is wrong with (Y/N)." That's all it took. Marcus was immediately standing and following Alec. The other two leaders following behind them. 

When Alec returned with the leaders, you hadn't moved an inch, still staring at nothing. "(Y/N)?" Marcus promoted gently as the two leaders stood by the door, watching on. "Come here, my dear." He said softly, analysing even the tiniest move you made. Your eyes drifted to the floor as you took a couple of heavy steps. Although you stopped halfway towards him. Your eyes on Marcus this time. Marcus could see the exhaustion in your eyes. It wasn't from how late the night was. This exhaustion was something Marcus knew well. An exhaustion behind someone's eyes who has suffered. 

Without hesitation Marcus moved forward and immediately pulled you into his arms. "I'm here, sweetheart." Marcus said to you. He held you just as a father would to reassure his child. Caius turned on a light and your heart began to slow. Silent tears ran down your face as Marcus held you.  Aro lightly touched your hand. "Alec, why don't you stay with young (Y/N) until they get back to sleep, hm?" If Alec wanted to refuse Aro, it didn't show. "Brothers, I believe we have matters to discuss. We shall keep the door open." Aro didn't explain himself until back in the throne room. 

"What is the meaning of this?" Caius was the first to ask. "I believe I must inform you of what I saw." It had been the darkness that brought you back to that dark place. Being left underground for hours without any to little light source messed with everyone's head. Except for the adults. The got to come and go whilst the children were left in the dark. You could hear the sobs of some children, others had began to laugh at empty spaces in front of them, their mind trying to make up for the lack of stimulation. The occasional dog barking ringing through. In your eyes, you weren't in your room. You couldn't see that or anything else. Except for the monster that had found you. It was skinny and tall, hunched over on all fours. Teeth large, only it's jaw being in proportion to it. It's eyes had sunken in, the sockets dark. Dark hair, fine and long, hung down it's head, some locks hanging over its face. Finally, it was covered in black cloth. It growled and huffed at you, the sounds a large dog would make. It beckoned you forward and you hesitated. However the fear of what would happen if you didn't was enough of a convincing argument to at least meet it half way. Although you didn't dare go the full way. The monster didn't seem to like that much. It charged, running towards you with all fours, long dark nails scraping at the ground. Those nails you were certain would rip you apart. The choice was clear you either fought it with everything you had or you let it take you. You didn't want to die, you didn't want anything to do with what that monster had planned for you. Just like you had at the beginning when the grownups took you. You learned quickly not to try and fight them. If you had to be honest with yourself, if it was the last thing you'd ever do, you were tired of fighting. In that moment your decision was made. You closed your eyes, afraid but accepting of your end.  However you felt no pain, only a strong grip on you. "I'm here, sweetheart." Your eyes snapped open, recognising the voice. You felt the black fabric of clothes against your face. You did your best to see just what the monster was doing, clutching to you in such a way. Then you realised it wasn't a monster at all. It was Marcus. 

Marcus' brow was furrowed, angry at your kidnappers. This was the most brutal way they could have ever discovered you were afraid of the dark. Yet they couldn't blame you. "They're not to be left alone in the dark. They are not to be in the dark at all." Marcus said firmly. "Brother, our best course of action is to expose them to the dark, show them that they do not need to fear. Help them re-associate darkness with less harmful memories." Caius disagreed. "They were not asleep." Marcus retorted. "Aro didn't describe to us a dream. (Y/N) was awake. They were hallucinating that my approaching them was a monster coming to hurt them! That isn't a simple fear, that is trauma." "If we protect them from this, their fear will be reinforced." "Caius, I have allowed you to do as you please for centuries. I think it best that you keep that in mind and respect my words. They will not, under any circumstances, be in the dark. At night, their door stays open with a light in the hall. If they must be in the dark, it won't ever be alone. They will not be permitted to be in the dungeons at all." Caius said nothing, Marcus didn't leave much room to argue. Instead, Caius sent a look to Aro. Marcus knew the two had a conversation away from his ears with that look alone. Regardless he didn't care. If anyone were to deal with your well being, it was going to be Marcus. 

After half an hour, Alec was confident you were completely asleep. He turned his head to look at you. He had laid beside you on the bed, neither of you saying a word. Seemingly you just drifted off to sleep somewhat with ease. The door had been left open, a stream of light poking through. Demetri and Felix nudged the door open ever so slightly, nodding to Alec. The two had been sent to dismiss him. He had permission to leave you. Alec was careful to get up, trying not to wake you. By the time he got to the door, Felix had began to close it behind Alec. "Don't close their door." Alec said quickly, making Felix stop in his tracks. He looked into your room before back at Felix. "They don't like that." Alec left the door ajar, allowing some light to peer through. 

You had been quiet the next day, keeping to yourself. However Marcus didn’t press you. Something within him made him stay silent. Perhaps you needed that, some time where you could simply be and not have to explain yourself. You had been drawing, squiggling every now and then. Perhaps your mind was also going in those same circles. “People think i’m weird.” You mumbled. “What?” Marcus tilted his head. “I see the way people look at me here. They wonder why I smile when I was...” You trailed off, unable to say the words. However Marcus knew. Since you were kidnapped. Marcus lightly reached over and took your hand. You met his soft gaze. "You see moments, lots of them. You live in the present and see the beautiful in the even the darkest of places." Marcus spoke. "That is beautiful. That ability is what life is all about. Capturing and living moments. Yet there are very few who stop to really take in their surroundings.” Marcus lightly squeezed your hand before speaking quieter, his next words only for you. "Some things you just can't speak about." He said. "I know that better than anyone, my dear.” You blinked but it was clear on your face that you understood him. “I think my mum and dad got their happy ending.” You said quietly. “They don’t have me to hold them back. They can live how they want to without having to look after me.” “What about you?” Marcus asked. “Do you think you got your happy ending?” Marcus asked. You smiled brightly, almost seeming relieved. “Yes.”

Caius approached Marcus, finding serious concern with you and his treatment of you. “I think you should be more strict. Show that they are expected to act a certain way.”  “I believe we are past the era where children are expected to act like adults. Don’t you think? Why not let the children be children?” Marcus responded, turning to face Caius.  “It’s not in their benefit.” Caius argued.  “(Y/N) isn’t an ordinary child and the last thing they need is expectations laid upon them. Not after what they’ve been through, what could have happened to them! They need support- not expectations.” "Marcus," Caius said lowly. "They nearly an adult, fifteen years of age but you're treating them as though they're under ten." "I am not!" Marcus insisted. "Showing patience is not undermining their age, Caius." "You mustn't coddle them!" Caius shot back. "They cannot be sheltered from gr-" "Caius, I think you'll find that in their few years of life, they haven't been sheltered enough." Marcus interrupted. "(Y/N) has been through more than any child should have to and if they act a little younger than their age to cope then so be it. I will not allow anyone in this coven to give them a difficult time because right now they need a safe place to be themselves! A child!" "Don't you think we see what's happening? We know they're like Didyme but believe it or not, (Y/N) isn't Didyme!" Caius argued and Marcus' eyes grew darker. "I am perfectly aware of who (Y/N) is and Didyme has nothing to do with this! She was my mate and she is dead! (Y/N) is a happy child who has been deprived of every necessity you could think of. Don't you dare imply to me that my loss blinds me of what's best for (Y/N). That I went to live in a fantasy that my Didyme had returned to me!" "Marcus, we have every reason to wonder why you are so attached to (Y/N) who just so happens to exhibit similar traits to Didyme!" Caius snapped. "Because I care about their wellbeing as though they were my own!" Marcus shouted taking the two by surprise. He took a breath in the silence. Caius' mouth agape. "Excuse me?" "You would know better than anyone here the pain that comes with loss and what could have been." Marcus said. "Don't..." Caius warned, his mouth clenching shut. "I know you well enough to know if anyone understood, it would be you." Marcus continued. "I have no doubt you'd be in the same position if a child like Athenodora came into your life . If the two of you could parent a child just as you've always wanted." Caius took a step back, swallowing a hiss. "Marcus, enough!" Marcus stepped closer. "Didyme would have wanted (Y/N) in a heartbeat. They can be so alike it's frightening. I know Didyme would have loved them. I'm so certain that even in another life, (Y/N) would be our child. They were born to humans who didn't care for them and lived their whole life smiling in the face of misery. I won't tolerate another minute of that. I have the power to change that and I am using it." Caius was quiet for a moment, staring at Marcus. "You consider them to be your child?" He finally asked. "That is the bond we have." Marcus answered. "Then what do you intend to do with them? They cannot remain human regardless. You will honestly tolerate them acting younger than their age knowing it could give them more bother?" "(Y/N) needs much guidance and support after all of this. I will always protect them, Caius. They'll always be a child regardless of how they behave. As long as they're safe, happy and healthy, I can deal with the rest." Caius sighed, his jaw still clenched tight. "It might not be too late for them to change their behaviour. It is all I meant by it, brother. They're fifteen and act like they are barely twelve. Surely the best thing is to try to correct this for their benefit." "Caius, you can't will such things away." Marcus responded. "It could hurt them more trying to change their behaviour after all of this. You must keep in mind that this is what their brain has done to survive such an existence. They act a little younger but they're stronger than half of our guards combined with the hell they've went through. Childish, perhaps but it could be so much worse brother. You know that." "I do. You should know we will do our best to support the child as we have since they got here. However if this is the path you want to take, you must be upfront about it- to everyone." 

Marcus watched you as you watched the TV. It was nightfall, and he had hoped the TV would be enough to distract you. Yet reality sank in quickly. He knew that it wouldn’t distract you long. You hadn’t even realised Marcus had left, so engrossed in the TV until he called your name. You turned to see a clear jar in his hands.  “Let’s try something.” He said softly. “I think i have thought of a solution for the dark. You told me that your gift disappears when it falls, yes?” You nodded. “Why don’t we try to put some of the light in this jar? We can see how long it lasts whilst in the dark.” You looked almost uncertain. “I’ll be with you, my dear. If it doesn’t then i’ll turn the lights back on.” Slowly you nodded, holding your hands out for the jar. 

When Marcus turned out the lights silence and darkness filled the room. Your breath changing. “I’m still with you, darling.” Marcus said softly. “I’m right here.” Within the dark room the jar began to glow. Inside the jar was filled with nothing but light, illuminating on your face and hands. You grinned, raising the jar to your eye level. Happiness gleamed upon your face. It was a childish glee that was filled with innocence. Marcus couldn't understand it. How someone who had endured so much pain and rejection could project so much love and light. His imagination ran wild as he pictured you no longer smiling, eyes set on him with a look of distress. Your once spotless clothes now covered in dirt and dust. Looking ill, with minor scrapes and bruises. The condition you had been found. 

One day, you come to Marcus’ private study. Your visit was unexpected but welcome. Although you seemed distracted, your eyes boring into him. "Can I ask you something?" You asked quietly and calmly. Marcus immediately turned to you, surprised by the tone. "Of course, come sit." You moved to the chair beside his desk as he hovered over his desk looking for something amongst the paper. You were silent for a moment, nervous. "It's alright, you can ask me anything." Marcus said to you, not looking at you but instill listening intently as he searched his desk. "Can I call you dad?" Marcus froze, his eyes widened. He turned his head to meet your wide eyes, filled with emotion and clearly nervous. Whilst you shared the bond, it had never been said and Marcus had no intention of doing so until you were ready. "I think my mum and dad would be happier without me, they can go their separate ways without having to stay together for me. I want that for them. Mum said some people just aren't compatible and I'm okay with that. I'm happy here and I think you're what a dad is supposed to be like." Marcus was silent for a moment before his had reached for your cheek. "Nothing would make me happier, my dear." He said quietly. You immediately hugged him tightly and he hugged you back. He would have cried if he could. He could feel it. 

Some months had passed. The Cullen’s were met with the Volturi once more. Just outside their territory. However, they made the Cullen’s certain they had no reason to fear. They were passing through and a certain someone wanted to say hello. Carlisle didn’t need three guesses as to who. 

Carlisle smiled at you as you tightly held Marcus’ hand, just as you held his when Carlisle brought you to the Volturi. It was clear Marcus wouldn’t let you out of sight. However, Carlisle was in awe of how much better you looked. You were much healthier looking, even a little taller. Your clothes fit you perfectly and you didn’t have even a scratch or bruise on you. Your hair had been cut.   “Hello, again.” Carlisle smiled at you warmly. “Hi Carlisle!” You chirped happily with a wide smile.  “Off on an adventure?” Carlisle asked you lightly. You grinned. “I’m going to sneak up on people and say ‘Hand over your wallets! Bang! Bang!’“ You held up finger guns at nothing, finally able to break Marcus’ hold on you. However, Marcus immediately had a hand on your shoulder, holding you back before you could run off.  “You will do no such thing.” Marcus told you before looking at Carlisle with a small smile. “Felix taught them that one.” Carlisle chuckled. “They look to be doing well.” 

You broke away from Marcus again but he seemed to allow it seeing you bound up to Afton.  “Hand over your wallet! Bang Bang!” You motioned with hand guns again. A small smile grew on Afton’s face before he raised his hands in ‘surrender’. “Okay, don’t hurt me.” He said with a small smile at your pitiful attempt of hiding your identity with your hood.  “It’s okay Afton, it’s just me!” You announced brightly, tugging your hood down, once again revealing your face.  Suddenly Afton was no longer in sight. You looked around in confusion before screeching in laughter when you were grabbed, Afton reappearing with a grip on your body with one arm, pretending to bite you. 

Marcus smiled slightly once more, turning to Carlisle. “I believe they are much better. Although I am uncertain if I should be doing more considering their traits, shall we say?” Carlisle knew immediately Marcus was referring to your childish nature, acting younger than you actually were. Carlisle nodded. “Some things are irreversible. From what I know, (Y/N) has always been this way. However, there’s no definitive answer. It’s clear you’re taking good care of them. They’re not the same child I found.” Marcus seemed to take comfort in this, reassured as he looked over for his child. “(Y/N)!” He called out to you. “Come and say goodbye. We need to go.” You walked back to Marcus and Carlisle with a smile. 

To Carlisle’s surprise you crossed the territory and hugged Carlisle.  “Thank you for helping me.” You mumbled. Carlisle hugged you back. “You’re welcome. Stay safe and do as Marcus says, alright?” You nodded before breaking away, going back to Marcus who took your hand.  “Let’s go, dad!” You tugged at Marcus who softly smiled at your futile attempts to move him. Carlisle, on the other hand looked surprised. Marcus met his gaze with a small smile and nodded in confirmation. 

As the Volturi moved on, Marcus had you on his mind. He did as he said he would, as he dedicated his very heart and soul- if he had one- to ensure you’d have a happier life. Carlisle’s words gave him encouragement and reassurance he was doing a good job. Perhaps what Carlisle didn’t realise was that you weren’t solely dependent on him. 

In his eyes,  Marcus needed them and they needed him the same. They were a light that reminded him of a light he lost long ago. It wasn't identical, but it was pretty close. Marcus didn't need it to be the same. He just needed the light that they radiated so easily. They needed Marcus just as much and the rest of the Volturi for that matter. A safe place to shine, where their was acceptance and an abundance of uniqueness. A stability the world hadn't given before. 

[helloprettybb]

all i see

insp. by a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be by jess benko. this song destroys me and almost makes me cry everytime i hear it. i just can’t it makes me so emotional so i had to write an angsty little piece about it.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

description: you loved him with all your being, but that wasn’t enough.

warnings: big angst, not much organization so if that bothers you, sorry, kinda fuzzy timeline that tries to be chronologically, cursing

word count: 1.4k

stranger, who knows all my secrets; can pull me apart and break my heart

He consumes your thoughts all day and night. You hate yourself, truly. You resent your heart for allowing a man to have such a grip on you, but here you are, leaning against your apartment balcony with a cup of tea in your hand. Your tired eyes glance down at the city beneath you. For being the city that never sleeps, New York is pretty quiet at 3 a.m. The cars zooming below you are mostly semi-trucks with the occasional sports car.

You should be asleep, too. But every time you close your eyes, you dip into a dream about him. America’s golden boy, the ultimate patriot, Steve Rogers, your unrequited soulmate. You’re a rather closed-off person, but Steve made you believe it didn’t have to be like that.

“You know you can tell me anything?” he says randomly. It was late and you were at Steve’s apartment with an empty pizza box and a couple of beers. It’s become a sort of routine. Although the food and drink varied, the company never did.

“Yeah, Steve.” You smile, “I know that.” He smiled back at you as if he knew you didn’t completely trust your words.

“I know you’re not really open to people, but I just wanted you to know that,” he adds. 

“Thanks, Steve.” you reply and you mean it.

You had that conversation almost a year into your friendship. Back before space titans came to wipe out half the universe or government contracts were established. It was a simpler time. If only you fell for him then.

You had a boyfriend at the time. A lousy one, but still, a boyfriend. You only felt platonic feelings toward him, but when your relationship fell through a year later, you saw those feelings change.

You were debating on confessing. Perhaps he liked you, too. After all, you’re his closest friend. But just as you were about to tell him your feelings, he told you something else.

“Yeah, her name is Sharon.” You smile wide. Maybe the more your face burns the less your eyes will sting from tears.

“How did you meet?” you ask, but you don’t really care. You’re being a really shitty friend right now, but to be fair, your heart is shattering as you speak. You listen to him talk about Sharon. She sounds nice, great, even. You’re not mad at her. Hell, you’re not even mad at her. No, you’re mad at yourself for being such an idiot and falling for Steve, someone who was never within your reach in the first place.

You watch as he falls for her. It breaks you, but it’s not like you can tell him. So you stand on the sidelines, smile when he looks your way, and cry when he turns his back. It’s the most heartbroken you ever think you’ll be until he tells you-

“I have to leave.”

“What?” you ask. wondering why he’s telling you specifically now. He always leaves for missions, but he’s rarely ever told you. And when he does, he never looks this serious. But right now, with his furrowed brow and anxious determination, he looks like he’s ready for something different, more serious.

“I just-” He cuts himself off. His eyes bore into you and you can almost feel them stare into your soul. “I have to leave and I don’t know when I’ll be back. So I just want to say goodbye.”

He’s leaving you for good. Or at least, that’s what he makes it sound like. You bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from crying, but it doesn’t work. The tears spill out slowly at first. But when Steve pulls you into a hug, you hold him back. Tears spilling freely, you grab onto him for dear life. Because maybe, just maybe, if you hold on tight enough, he won’t go. He’ll stay with you forever and you’ll be together and happy. But when you feel him start to pull away, you let go.

Waking up from being dusted away was an odd sensation. You were visiting your parents when the snap happened, so you reappeared in their living room. Lucky for you, they weren’t snapped away and the house was still theirs. They were overcome with joy when they saw their little girl was back.

They catch you up on the past five years like how your sister gave birth and now you have a four-year-old niece to meet. You laugh and smile and absorb the abundance of happiness at the reunion.

You go back to your apartment which luckily, you still have because your parents acquired it and put it up for rent. Unlike many of the other displaced people, you were fortunate to come back to a family and a home.

While walking around your apartment, you get a text.

“Are you back?” It’s from Steve. Your heart flutters in your chest. You haven’t heard from Steve since the night he told you he was leaving for good.

“Yes,” you reply quickly.

“Wanna meet at my apartment?” You eagerly accept. Can it get any better?

It’s just like those old Friday nights. Beer, pizza, laughing. It’s perfect. Steve is happy to see you as it’s been seven years. It’s funny because you look the same, but Steve. He’s changed. He no longer has that alert, almost anxious look, but a calmer, gentler demeanor. He looks like he’s at peace. At the moment, you thought it was because of you. But you quickly learned otherwise.

Steve told you that night. He spared you the specifics, only giving you the rough idea, not that you wanted to know more. If anything, you wanted to erase your mind of anything and everything Steve Rogers. You wanted to take back the years with him and go back to the time before you knew him.

When he told you he was leaving again, it hurt you more than you ever thought possible. There were so many thoughts running through your head, so many emotions stinging your heart. He was leaving for her? That woman he knew for a couple of years in the forties? What about everyone here? You wondered if you weren’t good enough for him. You thought about how fucking good she could be for him to go back and time and lose all his friends here.

But then it hit you. He loves her as much as you love him. It hurt so badly not because he chose someone over you, but because you’d do the same. You would choose Steve over anyone or anything. If given the chance, you’d travel back a thousand years to spend your life with him.

That just about broke you. The realization that you may never fall for anyone as hard as you fell for Steve. You may convince yourself that you’ve moved on or found someone else, but it’d be a lie. Steve was the love of your life; you just weren’t his.

That night, you wanted to tell it all to him. Say everything that’s been on your mind and all the emotions building inside. But then you realized it wouldn’t have mattered. What would’ve happened if you said you loved him?

He wouldn’t have stayed, since he didn’t feel the same way. He loved Peggy and your confession would not have changed anything. It would do more harm than good because knowing Steve, he would feel immense guilt and you don’t want that. The last thing you want is to put Steve in that position.

God, you love him. You love him so much it hurts. As much as it pains you, Steve Rogers is your world. He reminds you of everything good and fills your heart with joy every time you see him. You love everything about him from his stupid preference for smaller shirts to his adorable obliviousness to the modern world.  But all your affections, all your hopeful feelings only bring you pain and misery.

So, you don’t confess your feelings, you don’t beg him to stay, you don’t even cry. You make a joke. “Seems like everytime we see each other only ends with a goodbye forever.” You laugh, but it’s more at yourself, not at your joke. You laugh because you’re such a damn fool for falling for him.

[mydiazboys]

we found love (in a hopeless place)

[insp] 2 3 4

Glaring around the room he was standing in, he dumped his bag on the floor. Nothing stood out in particular, it was exactly what he was used to when it came to group homes. An older man was coming forward from somewhere in the back, where the kid who had answered the door disappeared too. He looked friendly enough, but they always looked friendly, in his opinion.

“You must be Edmundo?” The man asked, walking up to him.

“It’s Eddie,” he retorted, sucking on his teeth as he looked around.

“Right, Eddie. I’m Bobby, this is my house,” the man introduced, gesturing around. “You’ll be staying here with a selection of young men and women in situations like yourself,” he explained, tucking his hands into his pockets. “We have Hen, Chimney, Maddie and Buck.”

“Where am I sleeping?” He cut in, looking around pointedly.

“Before we get into that Eddie, there’s some ground rules you’re gonna have to follow to stay here,” Bobby explained to him, shaking his head. “This is a welcoming environment, I do not tolerate any homophobic behaviour or language under my roof, do you understand?” Eddie nodded his head firmly, as he looked at the older man. “I also don’t tolerate any violence or drug abuse.” Another nod from the roughed-up teen. “Every night I expect you home for dinner,” Bobby continued, before explaining. “I cook up a meal every night, it is the only meal I expect everyone to be together for. You may go out before and after dinner, unless it's your night to clean the dishes. Curfew is at 11pm, I am reasonable about that.”

Eddie’s golden brown eyes caught Bobby’s chestnut ones, and he didn’t dare argue with the older man. Instead he was picking up his bag, which barely weighed anything anymore. Bobby gestured for him to follow when he was certain the teenager understood his rules clearly, before showing him upstairs.

“I’m down the hall, in the middle room on the right. The girls, Hen and Maddie are in that room right down there. And this is where you’ll be sleeping with Chimney and Buck.”

Eddie stepped into the room, glancing around. There was a bed pushed against the furthest wall opposite the door, with various band posters scattered across the walls it touched. None of the names screamed out at him, and he was sure he wouldn’t recognise any of their songs if he heard one. The bed was made, and the person who slept here clearly cared about their belongings. On the bedside table stood a lamp, with an alarm clock and a well-read magazine.

Behind the door was a bunk bed, with a desk tucked under. The desk was a complete mess, with various school books thrown around on the wood. Papers filled with messy handwriting in the centre of the mess, quite clearly some abandoned piece of homework. On the bed above, it was untidily made. This person was in a rush this morning, with their pyjamas thrown into the corner. And like the other bed, this one was surrounded by posters. From what Eddie could see, they were mostly science and space-related.

Then his eyes fell on the last bed in the room. It was pushed in the far corner, the duvet was rolled on the mattress with two pillows. The bedding folded up on the end, waiting to be put on. The walls were absent of any character, naked.

“This mine?” He asked, his finger pointing lazily at the naked bed. A glance back at Bobby, who nodded his head. Eddie stepped forward and dumped his bag on the bed, sitting down as he turned to look up at the older man, bringing his foot up so he could retie the lace on his boot. “So, what? I have you watching over my shoulder every minute of my day?”

“I don’t quite know how your previous group homes worked, Eddie,” Bobby started, leaning his shoulder against the bunk bed. “But here, I trust that you’ll follow the rules I’ve set in place. I trust that you’ll do good when out in the world. I trust that you will come to me if you need help.” Eddie scoffed, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. “Why don’t you unpack and make your bed, then come downstairs and I’ll introduce you to the others?”

Eddie watched as the elder walked out of the bedroom, listened as the footsteps descended and then he was unzipping his bag. He didn’t own much anymore, mostly a few t-shirts, a couple pairs of jeans and some underwear and socks. So it didn’t take him long to throw all his stuff into the drawer that had been left open with ‘Edmundo’ written on a sticker on the outside. It actually took him longer to get the bedsheet on his mattress, and he was growing more frustrated as the opposite corner was popping off when he managed to get on the other one.

Eventually it was made, and he was descending down the stairs and following the noise that appeared to be coming from the kitchen. Stepping through the archway, he brushed his fingers through his hair as he took a glance at the group of people. They were chatting away about something, laughing even. Bobby was standing over the oven, a frying pan in front of him. There were two girls sitting opposite him, one had a shaved head and the other had long brunette hair. At the table behind there were two boys, who appeared to be in a disagreement. One with curly-dark blond hair and the other had a very obvious pink scar on his forehead.

“Ah, Eddie! You’re just in time.” Bobby had clocked his appearance now, turning down the heat on his frying pan before he was catching the other kids' attention. “Alright, guys. This is Eddie, he’s going to be staying with us for a while.” There was a chorus of ‘hellos’ from the teens, who were barely interested.

“I thought his name was Edmundo,” the curly-dark blond boy teased, and Eddie saw him get an elbow to the side from the scarred boy.

“Buck, we respect people’s chosen names here, remember?” Bobby’s tone was authoritative but it also sounded like he had had a similar conversation with the boy before. “Okay, so, Eddie. At the table, you have your roommates. Buck on the right and Chimney on the left, they’re both harmless enough-”

“I’ll take you in a back alley!” Buck yelled out, but he was shrinking down at the look he received from his guardian.

“And right here we have Hen and Maddie. Maddie is Buck’s older sister, they’re a two-for-one package deal.”

“Hey, Eddie,” Maddie greeted, smiling as she waved over at him. He gave a little two-finger wave in return.

“Bobby, can Karen come over later?” Hen asked, not looking up from the phone in her hands.

And then Eddie was tuning out the conversation, moving around the kitchen before he was sitting himself in a seat opposite the two boys. His legs spread, one foot resting against the leg of the chair.

“So, where you from, Eddie?” The scarred boy, Chimney, asked.

“Texas,” he replied, looking down at his hands where he was tugging on a piece of loose skin on his thumb.

“Oh, no shit? Where in Texas?”

“El Paso.” His answers were short, his voice was rough. He didn’t like talking about his life before. He didn’t like talking about himself in general.

“How did you end up out here?” Chimney continued his line of questioning, almost like he didn’t hear the tone.

“Stole a car, drove it out here. Got prosecuted out here. Ended up in juvie. Got out this morning.” His tone was dry, and the chatter from the girls and Bobby had stopped as they looked over at Eddie. Only Bobby knew the story, so it was up to the other teens to work out if he was telling the truth or not.

“Guys, you know the rules,” Bobby’s tone was warning.

“Sorry, Bobby.”

“Sorry, Cap.”

“Alright, if you guys want breakfast, I’m serving up soon. But if not, I’ll see you guys here at four-thirty, not a second later.” And then there was movement all around him, as the teens were getting up from their seats and heading out. And then Eddie and Bobby were left alone in the kitchen.

[jiubilant]

21 for a daedric artifact of your choosing, OR an important piece of enchanted jewelry one of your OCs has......🔍👀

21. silence insp: [x]

In Solitude, at summer’s end, Viarmo sits down with a friend.

They often dine together at this hour, in the headmaster’s hearthroom, in front of the wide window that looks out to sun and sea. They eat sparingly today. The table between them is well-stocked with sweet and bitter: honeyed oats, hot tea, apples poached in sunlight and cinnamon. Eggs on sour rye. Salt in the shaker. Sugar in the bowl.

A fitting spread, Viarmo thinks, for their last breakfast.

“I’d better be at the docks by—noon, let’s say,” says the Archmage, his smile comfortable and calm. He spears a slice of apple with his fork. “Or the Queen will send someone to drag me, I expect.”

Viarmo does not smile.

“Four months,” he says, half in wonder, half in pain. He slowly shakes his head. “It took you four months to be named an enemy of the state.”

“Anything worth doing,” says the Archmage, “is worth doing quickly. Pass the salt?”

“If you pass the sugar.”

The scrape of the sugar bowl across the table. The gentle tap of the salt-shaker.

The banishment, Viarmo thinks, won’t stick. They both know it; the Queen is fond of them, and sympathetic, and her get-thee-gone is meant more to protect her court wizard than to punish him. But the Emperor’s proscription is a different matter. Not that old Mede is likely to send assassins to a man for tying up trade in far Haafingar, not with the number of knives ringing his own throat right at home, but Viarmo worries. He spoons a lump of sugar in his tea. He stares at the man across the table, watches him chew, imagines him cold and still in some Colovy cell—

“Vjar?” The Archmage, warm and alive in Viarmo’s hearthroom, raises his eyebrows. Leans across the table. Taps the rim of Viarmo’s cup—clink-clink—with his fork. “Vjar. Are you going to drink this, or caulk the ceiling with it?”

Viarmo blinks down at his tea. His sludge. He’s spooned in half the sugar.

“Dramatist,” says the Archmage, not unkindly. “Here, let me—let me show you something.”

He works off one of his plainer rings with difficulty, leaning back in his chair, then casts it carelessly across the table. It rolls butter-smooth and straight past cups and cutlery, bright as a coin, then—inexplicably, to Viarmo’s eye—curves from its natural path, wobbling like a wagon-wheel back to the Archmage’s waiting hand.

Viarmo, dragging his thoughts from the dungeon in Colovia, tries to look more interested than ill. “Is it weighted?”

“No.”

“Spelled?”

The Archmage smiles. “Yes. But that’s not why it comes back.”

“Something in the way you rolled it, then,” says Viarmo, resigning himself wearily to his part in the play. He musters a smile. “Let me try.”

The Archmage drops the ring into his hand.

It’s warm, Viarmo thinks, blinking in surprise. Not warm like gold that’s sat awhile against skin, but warm as a living thing itself—with a pulse, almost, a thready thrick-tick-tick in his palm. Abruptly fascinated, he turns it over in his hand. “What’s the spell?”

“With that on,” says the Archmage, “you could slam your fingers in your viol-case and feel nothing at all. Maybe a pinch.”

Viarmo raises an eyebrow.

“Heard you swearing earlier,” says the Archmage. He smiles a little nervously, then glances out the window at the sun. “Go on. We’ve got—five minutes or so.”

Five minutes, Viarmo thinks. The sunlight shines cold on his face. Five minutes.

He rolls the ring.

The ring rolls off the table.

“I’ll get it,” says the Archmage at once, which is ridiculous—but he’s out of his chair, easing himself stiffly to the floor, before Viarmo can protest. He left his cane, Viarmo thinks, in the bedroom. He should fetch it for him. Five minutes.

“The trick of it,” the Archmage is saying, blithe and calm as ever, “is that there’s no trick at all.” He’s crawled under the table, the old spider, talking all the while. “It’s—it’s a long-standing superstition among mages, actually, the ring-rolling. If you wear an enchanted piece awhile, like a, well, like a ring, it’s supposed to take to you. You in particular. Not to personify. It’s something to do with—harmonic resonance, or magicka signatures, I don’t know. But when you roll your ring away, it rolls back”—he bumps his head on the table, rattling the cups, then reappears by Viarmo’s knee—“if it wants to.” A thin twitch of a smile. “Because it wants to.”

Viarmo considers this.

Then he reaches, with a fond, faint smile, to thumb the Archmage’s hair behind his ear.

“Do you rehearse your little allegories, Ravi,” he asks, his fingers brushing the other man’s cheek, “or do you spin them off-the-cuff—”

He stills, realizing what he’s looking at. The Archmage, kneeling by his chair. Looking anxious. Holding a ring.

“Argonian custom,” he says.

Viarmo hears his own voice, thin and small, as if echoing from a great height. “Yes.”

“This way no one knows any better,” says the Archmage. “Keeps your, ah, your reputation intact. Institutional credibility. Popularity with wealthy dowagers. You know. But maybe someday we can do it properly,” he says, speaking faster now, “a, a real handfasting, with—banns and bells and all. With hatkicks. If you like.” The ring twists and trembles in his hand. “Or maybe you’ll throw this in the, the—in the canal in a month or two, I don’t know. I don’t—I don’t know, it’s mine, it might not even fit—”

“Yes,” says Viarmo.

“—but, you know, I thought,” the Archmage continues, his voice hoarse, “I thought—you make me think, that’s the trouble.” He smiles then, helplessly, like a harpist struggling with several strings. “I thought, well, why shouldn’t we do all the things that stupid young men do—”

“Yes,” says Viarmo.

They stare at each other. A bird flits past the window.

The Archmage, his face careful and still, clears his throat. “Yes?”

Viarmo smiles.

“Well. Not all the things,” he says, “that stupid young men do.” He folds the Archmage’s hands, very gently, between his own. “It’s been fifty years since I could do a hatkick.”

A short silence.

“What if I held the hat,” says the Archmage, straight-faced, “very close to the floor, say, ankle-height—”

“Five minutes,” Viarmo reminds him. He opens their hands and looks down at the ring, blinking back a glad and grievous ache. “Let’s see if it fits.”

It does.

[elder scrolls writing prompts]

[thoriffix]

I posted 992 times in 2021

481 posts created (48%)

511 posts reblogged (52%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.1 posts.

I added 818 tags in 2021

#asks - 244 posts

#rqg - 160 posts

#yelling into the void - 142 posts

#hermitcraft - 54 posts

#grays art stuff - 43 posts

#rqg spoilers - 42 posts

#tma - 42 posts

#sash - 33 posts

#grays sketches - 32 posts

#insp - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#if the next few eps all have nothing happen i may agree more! but i think decrying the entire show as suffering just because one ep had less

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

wanted to draw some of my favs from this post by @chaotic-bi-incarnate bc my god were they accurate

[image description: three memes of rusty quill gaming characters with john mulaney quotes. the first is of sasha, a white woman with dark hair wearing a studded leather jacket. in the first half, she is looking to the side with an eyebrow raised, arms folded and hands tucked into her armpits. she is asking “do you want me to kill that guy for you?” in the second half, her head is lifted and both eyebrows raised, looking in the same direction as before. one of her hands is visible, revealing that she is holding a dagger. she continues with “because it sounds like he sucks, and i can totally kill that guy for you.”

the second is of hamid, an egyptian halfling with slicked back hair and brass scales around his hairline, wearing a green three piece suit and a purple cape. he has his hands thrown up as if explaining something and his eyes closed, face scrunched up. he is saying “i need everybody, all day long, to like me so much.”

the third is of zolf, a fat white dwarf with short white hair and a long braided beard, wearing a brown jacket over a gold breastplate. he has a hand held up and indicating towards his chest. in the first half, he has one eyebrow raised and is looking to the side, slightly disgruntled, saying “i’ll keep all my emotions right here,”. in the second half his eyes are closed and his eyebrows raised, a slight smile on his face. he continues with “and then one day i’ll die.”. end id]

1279 notes • Posted 2021-03-04 15:48:31 GMT

#4

[id: a sketchy doodle of mumbo and grian from last life. mumbo is looking with concern and fear at grian, who is smiling at him sympathetically and reaching out to touch his shoulder, saying "we can still be friends!". grian is hiding a sword behind his back. grians jumper, eyes and antennae are red, while mumbos tie and eyes are yellow, and the rest of the image is black and white. end id]

hey bestie let me murder you dot png

ive barely had time to draw lately but the amount of broken alliances this session... woof! so i wanted to doodle one of them :]

1510 notes • Posted 2021-10-13 16:46:24 GMT

#3

s1 martin. beloved. let him be happy

[image description: several drawings of martin blackwood on a light pink background. the biggest one is a flat coloured drawing from the thighs up. martin is a fat white man, with short, curly brown hair that has a red streak. he also has a moustache and chin scruff. he is wearing red glasses, black stud earrings, a rainbow bracelet, blue jeans and a red t-shirt with a 1up mushroom on it. he is standing with one hand in his pocket, one holding the rim of a white mug, with his eyes closed and his mouth open in a joyful smile.

in the top left is a headshot sketch of the same design, wearing a collared shirt and looking to the side with a big smile. in the bottom left is a simple full body sketch of martin wearing an open hoodie, jeans and converse, with his hands in his pockets. an arrow labels him as 6′2. end id]

1824 notes • Posted 2021-04-10 01:04:07 GMT

#2

melanie and martin were not a duo i expected but theyre the mlm/wlw solidarity we deserve and i Love Them

5713 notes • Posted 2021-01-14 16:17:27 GMT

#1

liking a character but lacking the brainpower to have any real coherent thought or clever analysis of them so your brain just kind of says their name over and over like a teen girl in a cheesy romance writing her crushes name over and over in glittery gel pen surrounded by hearts

70078 notes • Posted 2021-09-02 02:43:03 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[sister-morticia]

Rage Against the Night (Or How Sarah Met Eric and Shelly)

Song Insp. It Can’t Rain All The Time by Jane Siberry

The Pit was the usual stink hole and Sarah’s mother, Darla, took up her usual persona, draped over Funboy’s lap. Sarah rolled her eyes, tucking her skateboard beneath her arm as she went out the door with large, tired strides.

I never needed a mother anyway, she thought to herself.

The constant cover of rain was the only thing that seemed stable in her life, the only thing that was there for her. The only thing she could be sure of at all. Pulling her hood over her head, she jumped on and steered herself down the long winds of the road beyond, towards the glow of neon lights. It was a lively spot and crowds were building at a steady rate; a drunken sway of bodies with no direction.

The sign read CLUB TRASH.

She pushed through the sea of sweat and slick, brushing against the most unsavoury characters as she kept her head down. Even for a kid, she could fit in well enough with her clothes, she thought. The music, she noted, as loud. It was a crash of cymbals, the ear-splitting shriek of a strained electric guitar, the coarse rasp of a male voice above all the rest. Five men took the stage captive, all of them with hair to their shoulders and their features twisted with grit. The man in the middle though, there was something in his eyes as he vocalised incoherently; something softer laid behind his eyes.

The tempo slowed, suddenly upbeat. The man with the dark hair and pensive eyes walked up to the microphone, taking it in his hand like a lover. The words that came then were smooth, poetic:

We walked the narrow path Beneath the smoking skies Sometimes you can barely tell the difference Between darkness and light Do you have faith In what we believe? The truest test is when we cannot When we cannot see

Sarah kept watching his eyes, how they danced across the crowd, taking in the faces of each person. He seemed to acknowledge each emotion as if he knew them well; he found a kindred spark of hope in their eyes, too. Then he looked at her as the next verse faded in with gentle delivery:

Oh, it won't rain all the time The sky won't fall forever And though the night seems long Your tears won't fall forever

She didn’t realize it at first. She saw the man’s features knit together in disquiet as he looked at her. She brought a hand to her cheek and felt a dampness there.

Your tears won’t last forever.

It was a distant dream for Sarah. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d slept dried eyed, without that gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach. She wiped the stray tears away with her sleeve and turned back towards the throng of people. She would just disappear. She wanted to.

*

The band started packing up their equipment as the crowd dissipated in a slurred hubbub. She paid them no particular attention, for her thoughts were swimming with the lyrics that still hung in the air:

Oh, when I'm lonely I lie awake at night And I wish you were here I miss you Can you tell me Is there something more to believe in? Or is this all there is?

Her mother’s face flashed in her mind like a painful shard. She tried to shake it away, but it kept coming back.

Oh, when I’m lonely.

The nights she spent at home alone at eight years old, wondering if her mother would make it back in time for breakfast.

I lie awake at night And I wish you were here

The mornings she woke up at dawn, shivering and alone.

I miss you

When the rain pelted outside, drowning out everything else, even the sound of her quiet sobs. She hadn’t tried to hide them back then.

Can you tell me—

“Hey kid,” her thoughts were interrupted by the charming smile that sat before her, “aren’t you a little young to be here?”

She scoffed, “What are you, a cop?”

The man let out an amused, breathy chuckle, “No, far from it actually.” He looked back towards the stage where he just stood and watched his bandmates haul the equipment to the van out the back door.

Sarah gave him a look like he didn’t catch her sarcasm, but she realized rather quickly that his smile wasn’t to charm; it was brotherly.

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re really here?”

She puffed out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding and looked at him sadly, “Doing what any orphan on the streets would do,”

He frowned at the word, “You’re an orphan?”

“Might as well be,” her tone was bitter and cutting. “Darla’s never around to be a called my mother.”

The man’s expression remained terse, pensive as he tilted his head slightly. Curiosity prevailed.

“I’m Eric. What’s your name?”

She met his eyes, surprised by the sincerity in them, the warmth. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, reflecting the child she was. “Sarah,” she said.

Eric perked up in his seat, sitting now squarely before her, his smile now wide and proud. “Sarah,” he let the name run over his tongue as he continued to smile, “In some languages it means joy, and in others it means princess.”

Sarah scoffed, “Yeah, right. Darla really knew what she was doing when she thought that one up.”

Taken aback by her outright disdain for her mother, Eric’s attention was captured by a velvet clad figure standing off to the side of their table. She was like an angel clad in iridescent black, her face so lovely he couldn’t help but beam at her.

“Shelly,” he called out to her, extending his open arms to her as she slowly snaked her around him. She slid onto his lap and planted a kiss on his cheek before extending her warm smile to the girl opposite them.

“Oh, who’s this?” she asked brightly, tucking a strand of hair away from her glossed lips. Eric held her with a kind of conviction and certainty a lover could. She was someone special to him. Perhaps the most special.

“This,” he looked up at the girl, smirking, “is Sarah. Sarah, this is my girlfriend, Shelly.”

Shelly’s smile was so warm that Sarah felt that icy shard inside her melt just a little. She seemed so kind; she could see it in her eyes. Her face was young and free of lines of worry or fear. Though Sarah imagined invisible crow’s feet, the eternal marks of a life well lived in laughter.

“Hi,” was all Sarah could say, silenced by the warmth both emanated with such an effortless grace. She kept looking down, hiding the twinkle in her eyes as she bit her lip.

*

She knew she’d see them again. As she skated down the wet slopes, still the words rung in her head:

Is there something more to believe in? Or is this all there is?