#what's up with her arms

[goldeneyedgirl]

ailesswhumper day 3: isolation

wait. (day 3: isolation).

twilight, alice/jasper, pg, canon au. no warnings.

I rewrote this one three times because I just could not get it right. Another one written for the Vibes.

Drip.

Drip.

She sits and waits. That is all that she has ever been able to do, for decades.

She can hear water dripping, as it always does. Perhaps it is raining. She’s too far underground to truly know.

The others have fallen silent lately. No wailing or yelling or screaming. Even the curious ones with the heartbeats. Everything is so still. They don’t even have guards much anymore. Why bother? There’s no fight left in any of them.

She sits and she waits, and she thinks about the stars.

—

Her whole world is this cell, this darkness.

Sometimes they bring them humans, throw them in. They think it’s entertaining to watch the restrained ones try to make their kill, when movement is agonising and their limbs are trapped. There’s always mess; a hot, fresh layer over blood over the mould and stone, joining decades of dried blood layering the walls. Her cell holds an inch of two of reeking water, seeping up and tricking down, and the blood never settles in it.

It does rot though. The smell is an ugly one, but one she is used to.

She doesn’t hunt like the others. Her desperation turned to rage, turned to acceptance and then grief. Her visions show her the truth - this is where she will remain. There is no hope for anything better. So she waits til their guards get bored, til the other meals are dead. She looks towards the human, stricken with terror and shaking, who might beg and plead with her, they might pray. And then, when they are hopeful, optimistic in her mercy, she moves swiftly. A swift end is merciful, and she can offer them that.

Other times, the meals have been dead for a while when they are offered, and the blood is rancid. But she is no fool, she eats what is offered when the others yell and holler and wail. Better to humble herself and hope that endears her enough for a privilege. Perhaps to free her arms. Or to be moved out of the permanent damp of her cell.

Sometimes the meals are just rats and squirrels, barely a mouthful to sustain them. Sometimes the meals don’t come at all and she is quite certain that they’ve been forgotten.

—

1920-ish she was reborn. A blank slate, a girl with no past, scarlet eyed and full of dreams. Mostly of a boy with golden hair, a crooked smile, and the name he would bestow upon her on his lips.

Jasper.

Alice.

He was perfect. He was all that she would ever want, but she had to wait for him. And if she did and could, then she would have him forever. They would have a family, one that treasured them. It was going to be beautiful and she was going to be so happy. So loved. She wasn’t going to be alone anymore.

And then she fucked up. She fucked up and made a mess and when the Volturi came for her, she had to go with them. Underneath Aro’s kind words and promises was a threat: either she joined them in Volterra, a prisoner for her crimes, or she could be destroyed for her failure to uphold the laws. He wanted her for her gift, of course, for that ability to see all that was to come.

She still had hope back then. That maybe everything could be fixed. That maybe something could still be beautiful.

If she could go back now, she would beg for death. Swift and finite.

That was her dream now. The quiet finality of everything.

Maybe one day.

—

The days and weeks and months and years run together. She moves to eat, but not much else. Her arms ache from being forced into the unnatural position; she didn’t know that vampires’ arms could ache.

Aro doesn’t visit anymore; she has nothing left to show him, and nothing he did to her would make that change. Dimitri doesn’t either; she doubts that she is very desirable anymore. She is no longer good sport for the twins. Some days she wonders if she is truly forgotten down here.

Drip.

Drip.

Sometimes she wonders if Aro regrets anything that he’s done. That if he could go back, things would be different. But then, he sees things very differently. He’s made it very, very clear that if cannot have something, no one gets to have it.

She just wants a little. A little sunshine, dry feet, and ability to stretch her arms out again.

He just wants to devour everything whole.

—

The castle shakes.

It’s enough to jolt all of them out of the fugue. She makes the mistake of looking up, her bones cracking with pain at the motion, and she might whimper. The noise sounds odd to her ears.

Some of the others yell, for help and for fear. The ones with the funny heartbeats, they are crying again. That doesn’t happen much anymore - she surprised all three are still alive. The castle rumbles again, and she wonders if they will be buried underneath it all.

She stays seated. Hopefully the castle will burn and take all of them with it. She has no intention of leaving her cell, and even less to fight to protect the hallowed halls of the Volturi.

They cannot hear anything, of course. They do not know what is happening. Some of the ones that are still strong have patchy, slow conversations about it. Some of them holler and wail. It has been a while between meals. But most of them are silent, waiting.

The rumbles continue, dust and rock falling upon them like snow. Something falls, one of the great towers of Volterra with an almighty bang that even they hear.

It sounds like an ending, like something very, very final.

She doesn’t bother to hope it will matter.

—

It is a long time before they see anyone again. They are starving. The ones that holler growl and whine as the footsteps come closer.

The dripping has stopped. The water around her is still, stagnant and reeking. There is still pain, she is still imprisoned. She’s not sure she even remembers how to stand.

And then there is yelling. New yelling. It is not any of the old guards, no one that she knows. They smell different, move different.

She doesn’t care. It’s been decades, new recruits are rare but unheard of.

“They’re alive!” Yells one man, a new man. “Get the Major and Edward down here, now!”

The others beg for blood, beg for sustenance.

She doesn’t even go closer to the cell door.

She misses the dripping water.

—

It is chaos for hours. There are so many people in their chamber, bagged blood that is quickly offered. She can hear the cell doors pulled down, limbs cracked back into alignment, cries and growls and shrieks. The others beg for freedom, beg to be the next one that is pulled out of their dark little pits and brought up the stairs.

These new people are kind, she can hear it in their voices as they piece the others together. They smell… clean. It’s a nice smell. She has questions, why they are here but also, it doesn’t matter.

There is a small amount of terror nestled in her heart, about what comes next. What could be worse. But of course, there is nothing else she can do. She cannot run, she cannot hide, she cannot do anything but sit here and wait.

So that’s what she does. The dripping might have stopped, but the sound of voices… that works just as well.

—

“There’s one left, in the end cell.”

She makes herself smaller as she hears the cell door straining and pulling free. She does not look over, does not acknowledge whomever walks through, stepping straight down into the sludgy water.

“Hello?”

The voice. It’s like everything suddenly comes into focus. She wonders if she’s finally gone insane. She cannot move. It is not fair. Either her mind has finally broken into sharp little pieces, or fate has decided to remind her of all those beautiful things she nearly had.

“Hello?” He moves closer, the water churning.

It takes everything she has to look up. To bend the way she needs to with her arms in such a position.

And when she looks up, she sees him.

Him.

Jasper.

And he’s perfect and golden and all she dreamt of. He is the light looming over her, staring down at her with curious but hard eyes.

Her voice crackles, hoarse from lack of use. She can only stare up at him, her neck at such an awkward angle. He is not a warm man, he just stares back.

“You made me wait so goddamn long, Jasper Whitlock.”

—

[marypsue]

Keep seeing that post where OP starts like 'Thinking about...grieving the undead' and then adds on about like. Real life situations where people have not died but have left your life and you would have reason to grieve them.

All respect, that's an important concept, but that is not what I am thinking about when I read 'grieving the undead'.

[z-1-wolfe]

happy pride :3 i offer religious trauma

[fernhelm]

jegulus is more fun for me when james is at least a little bit of the cocky asshole he is in canon. i think him being a tad mean-spirited would make him much more relatable to regulus. he’s a prankster! he’s puck! i think he trusts his own interpretations of how others feel more than their own words. he’s a hopeless romantic and he’s writing a script for the love confession before the convo even happens. so good thing regulus is a grade-A bullshit detector and can knock james off balance in an instant. he’s goofy and charming but he will also push and push until he gets what he wants from you. and this would of course work on regulus (attention starved), but i truly believe it would piss lily off soooo bad. there is an element of performance to his behavior. he is always doing it for the studio audience. he’s throwing out cliché lines like he’s a romcom lead. he knows he’s hot. he does that thing where he lifts his shirt up to wipe his forehead and show off his abs. it’s the guy you want to hate but also begrudgingly respect in high school, and then could actually become friends with once you’re out. he’s a jock, yknow? that’s Sir Robin of Loxley. he’s never thinking about the power differential between him and severus, he sees himself as the knight in shining armor saving lily. insane levels of self-righteousness. this is why jegulus is the type of couple to have a big blowout fight and “go on a break” every couple of months, but ultimately be together forever. it’s what james wants— a relationship where they can break up and make up a thousand times and never doubt their love for each other. he lives for the dramaaa

[elyasdoodles]

🫴

[justaz]

percabeth hang with the kanes rather frequently and can’t help but fall into the parental role toward them. percy already had the idea of his and annabeth’s kids looking and acting like the kane siblings but when he sees annabeth admonishing them for doing something stupid and them going “yes mom” all sarcastically, it really drives the point home.

[peachyutdr]

i finished it, was kicked out of the game, and then spent the next 10 minutes drawing this. i will now go take a shower, most likely cry, and then go through the emotional turmoil of convincing myself to reset so i can do a geno run. i hate it here :D

[saturnniidae]

I think Astrid Hofferson has a bad case of the 'my childhood was wasted, I grew up too fast for something ultimately proven pointless.' Syndrome and that she deserves to get to do silly things she missed out on and take up new hobbies, even if she's not particularly good at them–it's purely for the experience yknow, and learn to finally breathe no longer needing to be on constant high alert and get to be truly happy

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

zombies + text posts

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Clown to Equine communication failed; They are separate species.

[First] Prev <--> Next

[edorazzi]

More Thunderbirds Are Go! With an idea I couldn't shake; Kayo being the only one qualified to escort Penny to society events and "discourage" potential suitors (while shamelessly stealing Gordon's girl)! 🌸��️

The boys are all cute but Scott will have half a drink then idly drop some unhinged traumatic experience into polite conversation; Virgil will start lowkey stalking the unvaccinated guests; John hasn't come out of hiding since the Charity Auction Incident™; Gordon will free the buffet crabs into the ocean before showing off "cool" x-rays from the time he broke every bone in his body; and Alan will eat too many desserts, feel ill, then end up hiding under the table to play video games. Kayo is Penny's only hope of preserving any dignity! 😮‍💨

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 268

Fright Knight sighs, running a clawed hand through his hair in an attempt to stop the flames from flickering into being. It had been far too long since he had taken a human-ish form. His human-ish form. Ugh. He didn’t exactly care for his human form after so long as a ghost, but needs must he supposed. 

Especially with the whole, we’re going to punch a backdoor into the literal daycare part of the Infinite Realms and be surprised when literal toddlers go exploring. 

Well, at least it got him off of guard duty for a bit, which was relieving. Not that he didn’t love the darkness, but it got boring in the shadow of his sword for literal centuries with nothing else happening. He was a warrior for Realm’s sake! Borderline an Ancient in both power and age! He wasn’t meant to stay so still for so long. 

So while ghostling wrangling wasn’t exactly in his area of expertise, he could definitely gather them back up to the Realms. And deal with the curs who had decided to attack literal babies. 

The Daycare area was already understaffed due to just how large it was, and the one in charge of this section had practically sobbed to the Council (In another world they would have been put on hold for a century in line for their concerns, and then more once a Sarcophagus was opened, but they had told the other ghosts in distress, causing others to let them go up in said line) how they were almost certain they had felt at least one core form Outside the realms thanks to the breach. 

Which had understandably put everyone at an uproar. 

So here he was slipping between shadows to do reconnaissance and take stock of if any Ghostlings had left the city. And gently scruffing those he comes across in exasperation because what are you doing, ghostling? Look at the mess, what would your caretaker say? 

[trobeds]

i know the hunger games isnt about romance i know it isnt a love story but. theres just something so beautiful in the way peeta is the personification of what it means to heal and he /is/ the dandelion and the bread and the hope that things can be better even if they wont be fixed. even if the nightmares dont stop he will still hold her. wake her up and tell her shes alive. shes safe. and when its over and done and theres no more saving or protecting or trying their absolute hardest to die if it means keeping the other alive, the horrors dont stop. but katniss will still find that comfort in peetas arms.

[anonymouscheeses]

I'm gonna be shitting and screaming and starting fights if Sera becomes a villain. I can't take sibling angst, Sera loves Emily I swear guys believe meeee.

[kaiser1ns]

You thought it was over? It's not. I'm not done yet, understood. (Imagine Endo saying this like aaaaaaaa)

i think i have a type nom nom men with tattoo sleeves. APPRECIATING ENDO'S ARMS BECAUSE HE DESERVES IT. also adding my other man jeon jungkook because why not (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

LOOK AT THOSE MUSCLES LOOK AT HIM OH MY GAWD IM IN THE OUTER SPACE SCREAMING HIS NAME UNTIL MY VOICE REACHES ANOTHER GALAXY, ANOTHER DIMENSION, ANOTHER MULTIVERSE.

[the-broken-pen]

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.