#hebrawn

A WICKED GRIN SPEAD ACROSS Edward’s face as he dug his heels into the ground. The jump he had made to avoid his brother’s punch had been high, long, and graceful, but he still had to stop his momentum. Flipping his hair out of his face, its length falling to cover his eyes, he leapt into the air again, aiming to land on Emmett’s back. 

The clearing in the forest was perfect for their wrestling sessions. It stopped Esme from worrying about them so much, since she couldn’t see them, or the house, since they were so far away. Jasper was away on a hunt with Alice, so it was just the two of them this time — meaning no one had to sit out. Already Edward had gotten in a few swipes, and Emmett had as well. But he was fairly certain this plan of his would work and he would walk away triumphant. 

he has nothing good to contribute to their little gatherings by the fire,     or outside the modern house in the woods.     and though he’d have many stories of many centuries to share,     his bitter soul finds more joy in pettiness.     as if he seeks to corrupt their time spent waiting for judgement and death to arrive upon their doorstep,     just as they’ve stolen away and corrupted his prodigy.       ‘   you are full of life.   ’       his expression remains as hard as the olive-tinted skin that clads his unbreathing,     undying form.       ‘   it’ll fade.   ’

@hebrawn   |  FUEL  MY  THE  LAST  FIVE  YEARS  OBSESSION  ! 

❝      no      ,      alice      .      the   only   time   you   ever     .   .   .      DAZZLE   ME     ,   is   when   you   wear   that   insane   highlighter   -   makeup  -   thing   on   your   face     .     it’s   blinding    .      ❞

@hebrawn

EASILY ,  SHE  SLIPS  THE  LARGE  LETTERMAN  JACKET  OVER  HER   SLIGHT  SHOULDERS .   far  from  fitting  like  a  glove ,  she  has  to  ruck  up  the  sleeves .  a  bright  gold  and  blue ,  emblazoned  with  his  lucky  numbers  and  their  last  name  in  arrogant  cursive ,   it’s  certainly  an  insult ,  the  way  she  drapes  it  over  herself ,  teasingly  shimmying  out  of  his  grip  whenever  he  tries  to  make  a  grab  for  her .  it’s  revenge ,  pure  and  simple .  at   best  she’ll  return  it  tomorrow ,  after  the  important  team  meet  where  all  the   jocks  show  up  in  matching   jackets ,  dripping  with  testosterone .   at  worst ,  it’ll  probably  end  up  on  fire ,  or  in  some  landfill  before  dawn .  serves  him  right  too ;  no  one  messes  with  alice  cullen  and  gets  away  with  it .