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@archive-benbraeden
don't hate me but i moved ben to a new blog @benbraeden <3. everything will be moved over if mutuals would like them to be, i just needed a clean space and a fresh start to help kickstart his muse back into action! blows u all a kiss!!!!
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don't hate me but i moved ben to a new blog @benbraeden <3. everything will be moved over if mutuals would like them to be, i just needed a clean space and a fresh start to help kickstart his muse back into action! blows u all a kiss!!!!
BEN BRAEDEN FIRST TIME IN CHARMING ACRES.
Come on, this is embarrassing. I want you to think I'm....not embarrassing! You don't embarrass me, Haley.
đ + reverse
he ushered her into the motel bathroom in a careful manner, watchful of any nervous ticks that may jolt her body, give leeway of the fear that is laden with shock. ben's movements are fluid, mechanical almost in the way that he immediately goes to work, moving towards the shower to turn the faucet to a warm temperature, checking with the edges of his calloused fingers to ensure it. the towels that the motel provides are grabbed at carelessly, like they owe him something rather than in reverse, when he moves a stack towards the sink. the motel mirror takes up the length of the entire wall, as the room is forcing madison to bear witness to the sight of herself. of the blood that stains her white shirt to a cruel pink, the splatter still marred on her skin like a constellation to her reckoning.
ben grabs a washcloth, his eyes flitting over her profile as she remains turned away from him. he doesn't know what easy words he should say to swipe away the fear that comes when discovering a new powerful aspect of yourself; he still struggles with the right words to tell jesse at times when ben just barely saved a town from the antichrist's nightmares that created an earthquake that left the town to recover for nearly several weeks. jesse's guilt still eats at him, months later. instead of words, ben uses actions instead, letting the sink water run over the fabric until it's soaked enough for him to start wiping at the blood on her cheek. her hands, her neck, the edges of her hair; places that he knows she could rid of if she stepped into the shower. but he recognizes the shock, the adrenaline that might make her crash; the realization hitting. when he has prolonged the inevitable, the mirror starts to fog in the corners from the steam releasing from the shower, and he stares at her - who stares at her reflection. he takes in a deep breath, almost cautious, worry laced in the under currents of his timbre as he asks her, "madison. talk to me."
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firstw1tch ( noun ): independent blog for the original character madison forbes from the cw show supernatural. PERSONALS & MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. penned by ceejay.
if you would be interested in writing with a special children version of elena gilbert, she can be found over here @gilmourned <3
don't put ben, jesse, rapunzel, claire, and bj in a room together... it will end in a fist fight between claire and bj while everyone just stands there questioning their lives. @benbraeden @antiturner
dw im sure ben joined the chaotic fighting by putting jesse in a headlock and tussling with him
â wink . wink at my muse .
ben is halfway through explaining to floribeth the newfound case that he stumbled upon, buying a newspaper and spending time drinking coffee and circling possible hauntings. there's a part of him that's almost proud to be the one rambling to her, a sliver of him that wants to impress her. his confidence starts to chip at the edges however when after several minutes, he recognizes the expression that takes root on her features. an all too proud simper, and then it makes sense in his head. his words teeter off into silence, mouth hanging agape as he studies her a moment longer, earthly hues darting between her own. he squints, as if to study for the answer closer, but he can already tell. so he asks, "you already know all of this, don't you?" and she winks. despite the disappointed expression, there's a playful pout of his lips, rather amused himself. "i'll get you one of these days. i'll come in and i'll babble like a madman again about a case you haven't heard of yet, just you wait."
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BEN BRAEDEN in HUNTERS (S1EP2)
calliope's breath wheezed out of her as she stood back up to her full height with the help of ben. her ribs were definitely cracked but she ignored the white hot pain that spread across her chest. the main focus right now was not only getting out alive, but figuring out what was out here with them. "well, that's just fucking beautiful," she huffed, grabbing her own discarded gun back into the waistband of her jeans. a useless weapon for her now. the wind blew around them gently, stirring up some of the leaves nearby. "should we follow the direction it ran in? regroup with the others first?"
between the wind catching up and the stench of blood in the air, there's a sense of calm that radiates off of the braeden, years of training himself carving the hunter that stands near his eldest friend. a hand reaches out barely, ghosting across the cold leather of calliope's jacket, sending nerves to blossom throughout him. a firm reminder that she's alive, she's moving and breathing, she's okay. the instinctive urge to corral her to safety overwhelms him, surpassing any rational thoughts ben has, but another dull ache rings throughout his head: you must follow the beast, you must follow the choked air of death. he hates it, wants to wait until they are in their best shape, but he knows that they can't. he nods towards the darkness of the woods that the animal disappeared into, a hole tucked between the wood of trees and the bush of leaves swallowed by darkness. like a threshold beckoning the two. "we should call the others, let them know where we are first. do you have your phone?"
adrian & leota are never beating the siblings allegations Peacemaker 2.03, "Another Rick Up My Sleeve"
btw this is what ben looked like when he was framed for murdering his mother by the shapeshifter
( @benbraeden ) . . . calliope gulped air into her lungs even as it burned as if a fire had been set inside of her. her fingers gripped to the sleeves of ben's jacket as his arms wrapped tightly around her to keep her propped up. her eyes quickly darted around them in search for whatever had sidelined her, but the night around them was eerily still and silent. never a good sign when it came to their line of work. "i don't . . . i don't know," she wheezed, her whole body numb at the moment. "did you see what that thing was?"
" holy shit, are you okay ? "
though the night air is cold and puffs of grey clouds hovered over his brims from each exhale he puffs out, his skin feels warm and his muscles burn with adrenaline as he holds calliope against his chest, his heart clambering like birds trapped in the cage of his ribs. the pistol that was knocked from his grasp is still out of their reach as they remain tucked here, and he knows that the longer they stay in the open, the better chance of the thing getting them. "not even sort of. silver bullets did jack shit though," he replies, moving to stand and grabbing calliope with him, fists finding the bulkiness of her jacket and shirt.
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She knew his answer before it even passed his lips, everything was always a dispute with Ben, but it felt even more so ever since the two of them had found themselves in this predicament. He'd tried to fight against her dressing his wounds, over splitting the lone snack she had buried in her pack, and by now it came as no surprise to her that he'd insist on her finishing their remaining water over him. They hadn't said it outright, but Lily knew the deeper meaning that lie beneath their quibbling even if they didn't dare to say it out loud: Ben was trying to give up, and Lily refused to let him.
Shoulders sank at little as he tried to brush off her offer of the remaining water, choosing to silently place the near-empty bottle beside him instead of arguing with him further. A ghost of a smirk passes her lips at his attempted insult, mostly to humor him over anything else as they were both more than aware he was in far worse shape than she was. She almost laughs with him, but his coughing that followed only sent an ache to her heart as it came with a painful reminder of just how dire Ben's state really was.
Ben's coughing creates a stirring within the cornfields that surround them, the monsters hiding within that had fallen rather silent the last few hours reawakening at the possibility of having new prey to hunt. She watches as patches of cornstalks begin to rustle in various positions among the field, but they settle again quickly after finding nothing has entered their domain. Lily still hasn't figured out why the creatures that taunt them are bound to only linger within the shadows of the massive corn field, but she's grateful nonetheless that they'd yet to figure out how to climb onto the boulder the siblings had found solace in. "... We gotta get the fuck out of here," she mutters to herself as her gaze continues to scan the field that had fallen silent once more.
the silent gesture of her placing the water bottle near him, within his arms reach he notes, instead of taking the last of the water for herself speaks more volumes than words. the shared gaze when doing so, it felt as though he could hear her in his head, telling him that she sees right through him. the feeling stalls ben momentarily, unraveled slightly beneath her steely gaze, until he finally looks away to reach into his jean pocket to pull free a nearly crushed pack of cigarettes. he peeks inside, three left. he brings one to his lips, the clean white outside paper of the cigarette a stark contrast to the sweat and grime and blood that feels thick on his skin.
he hears her murmur, the yearning desperation for help while they're stranded. admittedly, ben almost wondered why she hadn't jumped and try to make for it herself already; but each time a rock stumbles down off the boulder and trickles to the side, the unforgiving sway of the corn that bows against whatever lurks beneath the sea of yellow, reminding them once more how much faster they are, fueled by a hunger that ben can understand, a creature starved. he brings a lighter up to the opposite end of the cigarette, flicking the switch at least several times before it ignited a pathetic flame, burning the end.
ben studies lily's profile when she looks away. maybe it's the blood loss, or because he's forced to remain stagnant and can't exactly run away from her, but beneath the glint of sunrays he almost swore that he could see their physical similarities. a haunting reminder of the damning truth that is sitting in front of him, just a few feet away on the rock, of something that bounds them together. guilt festers in the pit of his stomach, daunting on him how he has treated her thus far. he wants to salve that wound now, the one that is open and still raw between them, by his own doing with the strength of his anger. "we're just bored," he states casually, offhandedly. "we just gotta distract ourselves while we wait for someone t' drive by." swallowing thickly, he pushes through the next question, "how did you and dean meet?" it feels strange coming from his mouth, and though it does come out slightly strained from the pain that laces his system, but it's genuine; like he's ready to listen.
she doesn't immediately say anything further. silence lingers around them and lucille simply holds the other's gaze with a slight expectant lift of her brow. when ben does eventually speak up, however, resolve breaks just enough for mouth to twitch in clear amusement.   â   oh, he looks exactly like every other winchester she's busted doing something they shouldn't. they've all got a similar tell, even if she isn't noting that out loud.   "that's not up to me, it's up to you..  do you think you've done something that warrants an apology?"   suggestion is gently thrown back his way and there's a playful tone in her voice that suggests there's no right or wrong answer  âŚÂ  she's only teasing. lucille doesn't think she'll ever get used to sharing moments like this with family. they feel surreal sometimes;  enough that she often pinches herself to confirm it's real and not another image conjured up by hell to taunt her with. thankfully this one seems legitimate. posture finally loosens and arms unfold to gesture at ben's split lip.   "that's going to need some ice, sweetheart..  or at least a bag of frozen peas. let me check heath's freezer."
sometimes it feels like the people around them watches him like a ticking time bomb, or a dam straining to break. the sting of the realization flushes ben's cheeks with embarrassment momentarily, as he's thankful for the purple surpernova that will masquerade the hue. the room still hangs in silence if not for lucille's words cutting through them, soft warmth of a mother's baritone. it doesn't cut through the air like a jagged knife, but rather embraces it, enticing ben to let the feeling blanket him entirely. when she returns with the bag of frozen peas, he gives her a personable, yet thankful smile with a barely there wince when the cold press stings at first upon contact. ben continues to remain silent again, as if he's a kid who knows he's in trouble, and he can't talk his way out of this one. into the corner he should go. when he lowers the bag of peas down to the nearby table, ben's distance gaze is fixed with a thought, and the war of his mind and body against if he should voice them or not. his mind loses, his mouth wins. "jesse thinks that the prophecy of us is going to happen." he doesn't want to talk about it, but if he had to work through the anger that he feels around the topic, he had to open up sometime. certainly not with jesse. "and it pisses me off because i don't want it to happen either, and there's nothin' we can do but just say fuck you to fate. he's fallin' apart about it, so i have t' keep it together because i dunno how to cram it into his thick skull that it will never happen." ben refuses to let it happen, especially if it ends with jesse taking the throne of hell, and ben having to be the one to stop him.
