Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Stephenie Meyer, indeed.
Author's Notes: This is a collection in honor of the struggles in the Twilight series, with thoughts and interactions among Bella, Jacob and Edward. This will be an outlet for the drabbles and ficlets that spring to mind while completing Final Request, a Jacob/Bella & Edward/Bella one-shot that I've decided to continue. I originally considered adding Bloodbourne to the next installment of Final Request, but decided against it.
The drabbles in Howl can each stand alone, but follow a relative pattern in exploring our couples' challenges.
The title of this collection is in honor of the song Howl by Florence + The Machine, which I am becoming utterly obsessed with, and which screams out Twilight in every line (Bella/Jacob, especially). It is the inspiration for my continuation of Final Request, and it was the inspiration for creating this multi-ship collection, as well.
"Jacob, stop talking about it like it's a disease."
"Dammit, Bella, it is a disease! You're going to die, Bella," he countered, cutting off her protest with a ferocious glare that made her blood run cold. "Your heart will stop beating. That precious blood of yours that your leech loves so fucking much? Replaced and infected with that venom shit—what part of any of that doesn't quite strike you the wrong way?"
"The part you keep leaving out about me being reborn," she argued stubbornly through gritted teeth. "God, Jake, don't you get it—I'm not ending my life; I'm starting a new one."
Jacob looked at her hard. (What was so wrong with the old one?)
A new life, she'd said. A life tainted with blood, driven by the thirst for blood, created by the venom to be carried through her blood.
He saw her precious blood rush to her cheeks as she fumed silently, daring him to tell her off. She was beautiful.
(What was so wrong with the old one?)
No, he thought. I don't get it. I don't understand.
He just hoped with all his heart that she knew what she was doing (of course she didn't), because when it all came crashing down (and it would), the blood would be on her hands, and her hands alone.
(As if he could really believe that.)
End Note: This drabble was written after seeing the word "bloodbourne" in one of my psychology textbooks. 230 words.