Day: November 17, 2017

babyitsmagic:

“They’ll probably find you someone bulletproof eventually.” He knew there were people out there with that kind of immortality. “Or you could not be a bitch about it and make this easier for everyone.”

“I’d rather not be shackled to some stranger, thanks.” Willow had never made anything easy for anyone and she saw no point in starting that now of all times.

Muse Stats: Cian

Name: Cian
Face:

What: Werewolf
Duties: Not getting shot
Age: appears early 20′s
Sexuality: Pan
Talents:  Shape shifting, accelerated healing, heightened senses, longer lifespan

Cian knew he had an older sister but only because his mother used to threaten him with the same fate she had left the girl to. It wasn’t until he was about fifteen that his mom actually did abandon him on the streets. He got by pretty well, started dealing here and there for cash. Got into a decent amount of trouble with a hybrid girl until she got her act clean. It wasn’t until he stumbled on a crime scene and reaper did he find out his sister was alive and well.

Prompt: You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liars body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone with only one scar, but it’s the biggest you’ve ever seen.

Lucky had always been an honest person, the lack of marks on his skin had been so refreshing. Honestly, Darla was sure there had to be a catch. No one was this honest, this flawless. There had to be a catch.

But he always smiled and shrugged, said lying didn’t end well for anyone. It took her years to realize it was a deflection tactic. It had never truly been a lie, just a good bit of wording on his part, but it was still a betrayal.

The first time she had seen him without his shirt on, her heart sank. Down the center of his back was the deepest, largest scar she had ever seen on anyone. The sort that only came with something seriously awful. 

“What did you do?” she whispered, horrified and afraid at the same time.

His gaze dropped, once trustworthy brown eyes haunted and filled with regret. “It’s…it’s a long story.”

“Simplify before I walk out that door and call the fucking cops,” she countered, her voice growing shrill when she began to think of the implications.

Lucky winced. “Abusive parents. They killed my brother. Starved him to death. I killed them. Faked my death. Ran.”

“I don’t believe you,” she hissed, looking for the mark to have grown or for another one to have begun to appear. But nothing showed.

“Lucky is just a nickname. Lucas Scott. Tennessee. You can look it up,” he mumbled, balling his shirt up in his hands to hide the shaking. 

Darla was ready to bolt, but he looked so sad and desperate. It was enough to make her dig out her phone and look up what he had said. There was a picture of a thirteen year old with his same eyes. Missing. Presumed dead. 

The fear melted, but the horror remained. The article backed up what he said about his brother and his parents’ deaths. 

“I won’t tell anyone…” she mumbled, unable to look at him.

“I don’t need you to lie for me, Darla.”

Prompt: You are immortal and often take different partners with a no strings attached clause. Your most recent partner has become clingy, attempted to move in, pushing marriage and children, quit their job to follow you around, everything that makes you want to run. You fake your death to get away from them. 500 years later, you bump into them at a pub. Appears they’re immortal too.

He had never wanted the whole family thing. Truth be told, Grayson didn’t like the idea of sitting still long enough. But, of course, this girl was making it hard. She wanted all the things he couldn’t give. The only kid he had ever raised was Chayton and even that had been with a lot of help and leaving him with Cord more often than not. 

But Dani wouldn’t listen to reason. She kept going on about soul mates and destiny and trying to sneak move in. He had tried to break it off numerous times, but she never listened. So, he did the only thing he could of. Faking his death.

It wasn’t difficult, he had a drug problem and he had never bothered to tell her what he was. He took just enough to be certified dead at the scene and then walked out the morgue the next morning. She only knew about his place it in Alabama, so he went north to hide out. 

After the years had gone by, he forgotten that Dani existed. It was a bad habit, he knew, but it was what it was.

The years turned to decades and into centuries and she never once crossed his mind. At least, that was until he was hanging out at Cord’s and the ghost of his past walked through the door and stopped dead.

“Grayson James. You lying sack of fucking shit!” she screamed before launching herself forward. Marrow intervened, catching her easily and holding her back while she tried to get at him.

“Wha’ the hell?!” the demon yelped, falling from the barstool as he tried to remember why her face looked familiar. “Ah hell no.”

“I thought you were dead! You fucking killed yourself!”

“I faked i’ ta ge’ away from yer crazy ass!” he countered, putting as much distance between the two of them as possible. 

Marrow laughed, tempted to let the girl go, but he knew Cord wouldn’t like some fae girl attacking a resident. 

“I though’ ya were human!”

“She fae,” Marrow answered before she could, earning a dirty look from the blonde. “Stink like water fae.”

“And you smell like a mutt! Now let me go!” she screamed, scratching at the hound.

“Nope. No good.” Without further warning, the hound dragged the woman outside and pricked her finger on one of the wooden splinters. “No enter. Go.”

He was proud of himself when he walked back inside and Dani couldn’t follow. Enough so that he waltzed around the bar and poured himself a drink, much to the disapproval of Trigger.

“Bad taste,” he said to Grayson, eyes rolling.

“Ya ain’ go’a tell me tha’,” he muttered.