#and not because life or death or fear but just because they’re so overwhelmed with love for one another

[dryadjoy]

Buck deserves a love confession that isn’t inspired by him being put in danger. Buck deserves a love confession that doesn’t come out of a life or death situation.

Eddie deserves a love confession that comes from him wanting to, not feeling like he has to. Eddie deserves a love confession where it feels natural and he doesn’t struggle to explain himself.

They both deserve a love confession that is domestic and warm and RIGHT for all the right reasons.

[dixons-sunshine]

Heal | Daryl Dixon x Mutant!Fem!Reader

A/N: Requested by @tempobaekh. I hope you like it!

Your supernatural powers were no secret to the members in your group. Your ability to move things with your mind had not been something anyone in your group feared. In fact, when you had used it to save everyone back at the quarry, that knowledge made you more valuable to the group. You could help better protect everyone than essentially anybody else, and that had secured your place in the ragtag group of survivors.

However, there was one thing you had yet to tell everyone about; your ability to heal faster than anyone else, but that secret was about to be revealed.

“What the fuck?”

“I was hoping you would have an explanation for me, Rick.”

“I have no idea, Hershel. This is—I don’t know what this is.”

“Perhaps Daryl would know? The two of them appear to be rather close.”

“Yeah, they’re together. If there’s anyone that would know, it has to be him.”

With a groggy, exhausted groan, you lolled your head to the side. Slowly, you opened your eyes, and as your eyes adjusted, you saw the concerned yet bewildered faces of Rick Grimes and Hershel Greene. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, trying to push yourself up, but Hershel stopped you.

“Don’t,” he advised you with a stern gentleness. “Don’t move just yet.” When you complied with his request, he continued. “What do you remember, Y/N?”

It was as if his words were the key that was needed to open the metaphorical gate in your mind. In an instant, all the memories flooded into your mind, making realization dawn on you. The run. Getting shot by one of the Governer’s men. The bullet grazing your temple. And then nothing.

“Getting shot,” you replied, your voice hoarse from the lack of hydration. “And then nothing. I think I passed out.”

“You did,” Rick confirmed. He stepped forward and peered down at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. “We saw that bullet graze your head. We thought we had lost you.”

“I’m fine,” you reassured him. You pushed yourself up again, this time without protest from the doctor. “I’m fine, really. Fit as a fiddle.”

“That’s the thing, though,” Hershel chimed in. “You weren’t when you were brought in a few minutes ago. You were on the verge of death, but now there’s no wound in sight. If I hadn’t seen the blood pool from your head myself, I would have assumed the bullet hadn’t touched you at all.”

Oh. You forgot that you did not tell anyone—well, except for Daryl—about your regenerative ability. It was not that you did not want anyone to know, it was just that it had slipped your mind. You had been lucky enough over the past year to not have sustained an injury big enough to be a cause for concern, so there had been no reason to alert anyone to that. The only reason Daryl even knew in the first place was because he had witnessed a scrape heal within minutes up close and personal a few months prior, and you had explained to him why.

Well, you thought to yourself, guess the cat’s out of the bag now.

“I heal super fast. It’s part of my powers.” That was the most basic explanation you could come up with. If you had to explain it to them on a scientific level, in the way the people who experimented on you explained it to you, you all would be there for days.

“How? How’s that even possible?” Rick inquired, his brows furrowed together.

“I don’t know. It just is.”

“Alright, m’pretty sure y’all have a lot’a questions, but save ‘em for later, yeah? Healin’ abilities or not, s’still the safest bet to let her rest for now. Right, Doc?”

Involuntarily, you found yourself smiling at the sound of Daryl’s voice. The archer’s ocean-coloured eyes locked with your eyes, and he sent you a small, lopsided smile in return. He knew how overwhelmed you could get when talking about your powers and how you got them, acutely aware of the fact that it was a time in your life you were not particularly fond of, so he knew it was better if you had the time to gather your thoughts and prepare yourself before you got bombarded with questions.

“He’s right,” Hershel agreed. He placed a gentle hand on Rick’s shoulder, urging him back, before shifting his attention back to you. “Get some rest, Y/N. That’s about the only thing I’m certain you need.”

“Thanks, Hershel,” you replied. You watched as Rick and Hershel pushed past Daryl, who had been leaning against the doorframe of your cell. When you were certain the two of you were alone, you spoke up again. “Thank you.”

Daryl nodded, before pushing himself away from the door. He walked over to you and sat on the chair next to your bed, and leaned forward to take your hand in his, a rare show of affection for the archer. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your knuckles.

“M’real glad yer alright, Sweetheart,” he murmured. “If it weren’t for yer weird as shit healin’ thing, ya could’a died. Hell, if that asshole had better aim, he could’a shot ya clean in the brain. Pretty sure ya can’t heal from that.”

“No, I can’t,” you confirmed with a sad smile. “But I’m fine, Dar. I promise.” When Daryl simply sighed and ducked his gaze to the floor, you took it upon yourself to lighten the mood a bit. Using your telekinesis, you brought his chair closer to the bed, laughing lightly when he flailed to grip the chair to stop from falling. “Sorry. I should have warned you I was gonna do that.”

Daryl shook his head. “Nah, s’fine. M’guessin’ that’s somethin’ m’gon’ have to get used to.”

“Yeah,” you giggled. You shared a smile with Daryl, and the look he sent you had you all warm on the inside. “What?” you questioned, suddenly feeling shy under his intense gaze.

“Nothin’.”

“Just admiring the view?”

“Yeah,” Daryl said, smiling softly, before sighing. “M’glad yer okay. Ya really have no idea.”

“Me too. I’m glad, too.”

[kikyoupdates]

Leave Your Mark ⭑˚🧪⭑ 𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑠

bnha x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, my hero academia x fem!reader, slowburn

You didn’t accomplish anything in your previous life. Looking back on it, you feel nothing but regret, and you yearn for the chance to do things differently. As it turns out, your wish is answered, and you are reborn into your favorite fictional world. This time, you resolve to make a change, and you have the means to do it. You won’t be content with just sitting on the sidelines and letting life pass you by. You will live boldly and vibrantly, as if every moment is your last. No matter what it takes, you are going to leave your mark.

story masterlist | next

Death has a tendency to sneak up on people when they least expect it.

In your case, it happens when you are only sixteen years old, riding the bus on the way back from school. You’re scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, earbuds pushed in so deep that they block out all the noise in the background. The music on your playlist is blasting at full-force, perhaps too loudly, but you prefer it this way. You prefer to be able to focus on your own thoughts.

Your eyes close, and you allow your mind to drift off. You pretend that you’re inside your room, protected by the four walls you’ve come to cherish and rely on. It’s easier to be alone. It’s what you’re used to, what comes naturally to you, and in all your years of living, you’ve never once thought to venture outside of your comfort zone.

When a car suddenly skids from the oncoming traffic lane and crashes into the bus, you are forced to rethink your life choices.

The bus lurches from the impact. You can feel your body being flung out of the seat, and you swear it doesn’t make sense, because everything is happening too fast. Your body doesn’t feel as if it’s your own. It’s as if it’s weightless, and there’s a pit in your stomach that wasn’t there just a moment ago.

You can’t really make sense of how everything unfolds. All you know is that you’re lying on the floor of the bus, and your earbuds have fallen out, despite your best efforts to bury them snug. Your eyes are wide, disbelieving, as you stare ahead at the countless other civilians that have been caught up in the crash. From what you can tell, some of them are gravely injured. Others are lucky enough to have gotten away with some bruising and a bump on their head.

That’s the most you can piece together, because your vision is slowly fading. The side of your head feels awfully slick for some reason. You don’t really understand why, not until one of the injured kids on the bus points to you and starts wailing.

Ah.

Your skull has been cracked open, and you’re about to die.

Someone rushes towards you. They look like they’ve sprained their wrist, but otherwise, they’re in relatively good shape. You can only watch, unable to move or muster up a sound, as they pull out a napkin and use it to try and put pressure on your wound.

Based on how quickly everything is turning dark, you can tell that it’s a futile effort.

I’m dying. I’m really dying.

You’re afraid. Of course you are. Is there anyone who doesn’t fear death? Not that it makes any difference. Once death has set its sights on someone, it’s impossible to escape.

There’s another emotion weighing you down though, and compared to fear, you would argue that it’s much more overwhelming.

Regret. More than anything else, you feel regret. What did you spend these last sixteen years doing? You hardly have anyone you can call a friend, you put little effort into maintaining a good relationship with your family, and you’ve never accomplished or done anything that you can feel genuinely proud of.

You’ve wasted your entire life, and it’s too late to do a damn thing about it.

“It’s going to be okay,” the person tending to you mumbles. They press down on your head, trying to staunch the wound, but you know it’s a lost cause.

You are going to die here, and no matter how desperately you try to make peace with that fact, you just can't.

If only you could get another chance at life. You wouldn’t make the same mistakes twice. You promise yourself that you’ll appreciate every moment, reach out to others and share whatever emotions they’re feeling. Anger, joy, apprehension—it doesn’t matter. The point is that you’ll do better. You’ll be better. You won’t isolate yourself or waste away the precious moments of your life.

All you need is another opportunity. Please?

Right. As if that would happen.

Your breathing grows shallower, weaker, and you can just vaguely hear the nice civilian crying out to you in desperation. Eventually, even the sound fades. It’s getting terribly and unspeakably dark. Fuck. You’re afraid. You’re so afraid.

But even as you’re about to cross over to the other side, your belief holds firm.

Nothing is worse than having regrets.

The darkness, which you presumed to be vast and endless, eventually clears.

Suddenly, you can hear again, but the sound is so loud and ear-grating that you almost wish you couldn’t.

“What’s wrong with her?” a woman sighs tiredly. “She’s been crying nonstop.”

There are two people in the room. One of them is the woman, who just spoke up, and the other is a man, a doctor, by the looks of things.

Oh, actually, scratch that. There are three people in the room, because some baby is wailing out at the top of their lungs.

Is this a dream?

You died, and you know that for a fact, so you assume you must be watching some random scene play out. But even if that’s the case, something is... strange. You’re not quite sure how to explain it, but there’s this overwhelming sense of discomfort that’s tearing through your whole body.

“She is perfectly healthy,” the doctor reassures. He must be referring to the baby. He takes a moment to adjust his glasses, then frowns. “Have you reconsidered, by any chance?”

“No,” the woman replies. She says it bluntly; coldly, even. “I already told you this before. I’m not keeping her. I just wanted to make sure she was healthy, but that’s it. As soon as I’m feeling better, I’m going to leave. One of the nurses will take her away, right?”

“Yes, miss. Of course. We just wanted to give you one last chance to rethink your decision.”

“I’m not keeping her,” she says again, and she bites down on her lip to keep from trembling. You’re not sure why you’re seeing such a heavy scene play out, but you suppose it’s better than being trapped in a void for all eternity. You’re thankful to have retained your sentience.

Up until this moment, you are convinced that you’re dead.

But when the woman moves closer, and she reaches a hand out, it finally clicks.

“Bye-bye, baby,” she whispers. You can feel her hand squeezing down on yours. The sensation of being touched is painfully familiar, and you know you’re not imagining it.

This woman is your mother, and she’s in the process of giving you away.

Just like that, the crying stops. It stops because you realize you’re the baby, and it means that your dying wish has been answered.

One way or another, you’ve been reborn.

“Ah,” the doctor hums. He cracks a smile and gently pokes your chubby cheek. “Are you happy that your mommy touched you? You must be, since you’ve finally stopped crying. She has to leave, but don’t worry. We’ll find you a new family soon. I’m sure you’ll love them, whoever they are.”

You blink up at him, not making a sound. It’s hard to believe that you’re actually alive again, and while the body of an infant doesn’t allow for much freedom, in the grand scheme of things, it’s a trifling matter.

You just want to live.

“Get some rest, little one,” the doctor encourages. Of course, he can’t possibly know that you actually understand him, but since there’s not much else you can do in your present state, you close your eyes and try to drift off to sleep.

Some time passes, and unlike what the doctor promised, you have yet to find a loving home.

It turns out that adoption is a rather tricky process, and it takes a while just to find suitable parental candidates. You appreciate that there is a lot of planning and contemplation that goes into this, because children shouldn’t just be handed off without a second thought. They need to be diligently cared for, looked after and appreciated.

You realize just how true this line of reasoning holds when you are finally introduced to your ‘forever family’, as the doctor puts it.

“You’re going to love them,” he grins. “They’re so excited to have you!”

For a moment, you wonder if he means that, or if he’s the one who’s excited to finally get rid of you and free up a bed for another soon-to-be baby. There isn’t really any way to know for sure, and if your infantile body allowed for it, you would probably shrug as a show of your indifference.

Anyways, you finally have a home now, and you suppose that has to count for something.

It doesn’t take long for you to wish you were back in the hospital.

“She keeps crying,” the mother whines, almost as if she’s the child, not you.

“Well, no shit,” the father cuts back impatiently. “It’s because you’re always forgetting to feed her on time. You told me you were ready for this. You told me you wanted a kid, so it’s too late to start pulling these stunts.”

“I’m just so tired. I really don’t know if I can do this...”

Fucking hell. What does a baby have to do around here to get a goddamn bottle of milk?

They aren’t good parents. That much is abundantly clear. You wish they would’ve sorted out these matters ahead of time, but some people find out the hard way that they just aren’t ready to take care of a child.

Nonetheless, they make an effort to improve. They try to rise to the occasion and shoulder this huge responsibility they’ve decided to take on.

During the time you spend living under their roof, you come face-to-face with a dizzying realization.

It happens so fast that, at first, you swear you’re just imagining things. Your adoptive mother is vacuuming around the house, when suddenly, a stray object falls under the couch. She lets out her usual trademark sigh, then adjusts her stance as if she’s about to crouch down and retrieve it.

As it turns out, she doesn’t need to crouch, because her arm extends—as if it’s elastic—and she picks up the object with ease.

The pacifier in your mouth instantly falls out.

What... the fuck?

You wonder if your tiny baby eyes are deceiving you, or if this is some sort of side effect of being reincarnated. How else would you explain what you’ve just seen? It’s freaking absurd. People’s arms don’t just do that.

Since you’re incapable of communicating normally, you just cry. Your adoptive mother seems to become increasingly irritable whenever you cry for long periods of time, but there’s not much you can do to help it, especially when you’re so confused.

“Hush now, [Name],” she demands, and to your horror, stretches her arm out again so that she can reach over to you and place the pacifier back in your mouth.

Then she carries on with her vacuuming, as if nothing ever happened.

To no one’s surprise, you keep crying, and it continues this way until you overhear a conversation between the two of them during dinner.

“She hates it whenever I use my Quirk,” your mother scowls. “I feel like she’s judging me every single time. Is it possible for babies to be so judgy?”

Hold up. What the hell did she just say?

“You must be imagining it,” your father sighs. Both of them sure like to sigh a lot. You hate to admit it, but they don’t seem particularly happy with their lives. “She’s just a baby. She doesn’t even know what’s going on around her, let alone how Quirks work.”

They keep on using that word, and your chest feels tight when you remember exactly where you’ve heard it before.

But that can’t be. My Hero Academia is a fictional world. Superheroes, Quirks... none of that is real.

Yet here you are, living and breathing, proof that all of this is actually happening to you.

Even so... it’s just too far-fetched. You can’t possibly have been reborn into a world that doesn’t really exist. No matter how much manga and anime you’ve consumed, it still doesn’t make this situation any more plausible.

You need evidence. Real, concrete evidence. Until then, you refuse to draw any conclusions.

A week later, you catch your parents watching an interview of All Might on TV.

...well, shit.

Shortly after your second birthday, your parents put you up for adoption again.

You wonder if something must be wrong with you, because no one seems to want to have you as their kid. It’s getting a bit hard not to take personally.

The worst part of it is that they didn’t even bother to put you up for adoption somewhere nice. You’re convinced that they chose the shittiest orphanage that ever existed, just as one last middle finger for all the stress and trouble you’ve caused them.

You are two years old now, you are almost certainly living in the world of My Hero Academia, and you’re an orphan. Admittedly, it's a lot to handle.

Even so, you manage. For obvious reasons, you’re a lot smarter than you look. Your body limits a lot of what you can do, so you choose to keep your brain engaged mostly by reading books and solving puzzles.

“That girl’s always going through those books,” one of the caregiver mumbles to her colleague. “Do you think she really understands what’s going on?”

“No way,” the other waves off. “She must just like looking at the pictures.”

“But that book doesn’t have any pictures.”

“She’s two years old. Of course she can’t read. Nothing that complicated, at least. Don’t be silly.”

They eventually shrug and decide that they must be overthinking things, and you carry on reading your book—yes, actually reading it.

It’s another normal, mundane day, until suddenly, everything changes.

“We have someone new staying with us starting from today,” the head caregiver proudly announces. He gestures beside him, where a boy is standing with his arms wrapped around his body. He is consciously keeping a good distance between him and the other kids, as well as the caregiver, and you swear you spot a grimace on his lips.

For some reason... he looks really familiar.

“Go on,” the caregiver encourages. “Introduce yourself to the others.”

You hear him mutter something under his breath, although you don’t quite catch it, and then he sighs before briefly glancing your way.

“Chisaki Kai,” he says, and in that moment, your heart stops. “But stay away from me,” he adds, grimacing yet again. “I don’t like it when people get too close.”

Chisaki Kai.

You know this kid. Well, he’s only a kid now, but you’re abundantly aware of what he’ll become, and the horrible things he’ll go on to do.

At this point, you can’t keep making excuses anymore. You’re living in the world of My Hero Academia, and it’s as simple as that.

Chisaki walks away before the caregiver can say anything else. He sits down in the corner of the room, all by himself, keeping his golden eyes narrowed so that nobody thinks of getting too close to him. He’s several years older than you, so that puts him at about maybe eight or nine? The details don’t really matter, though.

What matters is that for the first time, you’ve met a character that plays a hand in how the story will unfold.

You remember your dying wish. You wanted to have a second chance at life, to prove that you can make something of it, rather than letting each day pass you by. You decided long ago that regardless of when you die, or how you die, you want to be able to say that you’ve lived a full life. You want to know that your actions have impacted others, impacted the world.

And now you’ve just realized that your actions carry a lot more weight than you first thought.

You know how this story goes. Well, not all of it, because you died before it came to an end, but you have knowledge in spades, and who’s to say that you can’t use that knowledge to create a permanent, positive shift?

Chisaki is still gritting his teeth, staying far away from everyone else. Seeing him like this, knowing that he’s just an orphan like you, makes it difficult to fear or resent him. He’s frail and vulnerable, and even if he won’t admit it, he needs to be protected, just like any other kid would.

You are going to live. You are going to live boldly and vibrantly, knowing that the choices you make can shape others’ lives. You’re done spending your days as a recluse and wasting away. You don’t want things to end like they did in your last life, where even in death, nobody knew who you were or what you’d done.

Here, your potential is limitless, and you’ll be damned if you take it for granted.

And so, you stand up. On shaky toddler legs, but you stand up nonetheless. Your steps are slow, deliberate, and even though it takes a while, you eventually stop in front of Chisaki.

He glares at you. “What do you want?”

You know exactly what you want, and it’s to leave your mark on this world, so that you’ll never be forgotten. You want to be someone who can move and inspire others. You want to become the kind of person you can take pride in.

You’ve been given a new chance at life, and it’s in a world you’re familiar with, of all things. This is the best deal you’ll ever get.

It takes you a while to form your words, so you return Chisaki’s stare with one of your own. He’s still so young, but he already resents the world. He feels like an outsider, like someone who doesn’t belong. Because of that, he will eventually spin out of control. He will resort to drastic means to manipulate the world around him—to make it make sense.

If left unchecked, he will certainly become a villain. But what if, all these years, he had someone by his side to steer him on the right path? What if he found solace some other way, instead of twisting society in the palm of his hand?

You don’t know the answer to that question, but you think you’d like to find out.

“I’m here for you.”

Those are the words you decide on, and despite how childish your two-year-old voice sounds, there’s a maturity to it that Chisaki can’t seem to comprehend.

He looks at you in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. I just wanted to tell you that, no matter what happens... it’s going to be okay. Because I’ll be here to help.”

You grin widely, unintentionally revealing several missing teeth. Chisaki looks disgusted at first, and he even shrinks away, but against all odds, he still hasn’t told you to get lost.

The two of you just stare at each other in silence for a while. He must think you’re a bit strange, especially for a two-year-old, but you can’t help but be mesmerized by the fact that he’s actually in front of you right now.

Eventually, his patience runs thin.

“Go away,” he mutters, then outright shoos you. “Dirty little kid. Mind your own business.”

You don’t take any offense at his words. You realize it’ll take a while to get closer to him, and knowing what you do about his character, there are a lot of obstacles standing in your way.

But it’s fine. If maybe, just maybe, you can prevent him from becoming a villain... if your actions help someone, in some way...

You’ll be happier than you can put into words.

“Okie-dokie,” you smile, then turn to leave, mindful of giving him space.

You must have forgotten, because mentally, your brain is still your own, but your body has become that of a child.

Needless to say, you fall over while trying to walk away.

“Ouch!” you whine, rubbing at your tender toddler body. Everything hurts. Little kids are so goddamn fragile. You suppose you’ll have to be more careful from now on.

It takes a few seconds, but you manage to pick yourself up, smile proudly at the feat, then retreat back to your side of the room and carry on reading your book.

The whole time, Chisaki stares at you, unblinking. He already thinks you’re incredibly strange.

It’s a clumsy start, but it’s a start nonetheless.

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[aeth-eris]

scorpio moons aren’t mysterious because they want to be-it’s a natural defense mechanism. their emotions run so deep and intense that not everyone can handle it, so they keep it under lock and key until they feel truly safe. when they do open up, it’s raw, transformative, and probably a little intimidating... but also a connection you’ll never forget.

scorpio moons have this emotional x-ray vision; they can read people like an open book, no matter how hard anyone tries to keep things hidden. they just know what's beneath the surface, and faking it around them? nearly impossible. oddly enough, they're drawn to chaos or intense situations and people that push them to the edge. they don’t create drama intentionally, but a calm, predictable life often leaves them restless, like something essential is missing. if there’s no depth, they’ll either stir things up or keep it moving.

they have this complicated relationship with vulnerability, craving raw, soul-baring intimacy while fearing exposure. they’ll test you, push you, maybe even try to push you away-just to see if you’re really in it with them. but if you stick around, you’ll earn a place very few ever reach.

when it comes to loyalty, scorpio moons are all-in-but cross them once, and getting close again is unlikely. it’s not about grudges; it’s about survival. they guard their hearts fiercely because letting anyone in feels like handing over a part of their soul. they’re the shadow dancers, finding beauty in life’s darker aspects that others avoid, like pain, loss, and transformation. if you’re going through something heavy, a scorpio moon will be right there, unafraid to sit with you through it all.

scorpio moons can be emotionally intense to the point of being exhausting-for both themselves and others. they live in a world of extremes, where every feeling has depth, but sometimes this leads them to hold onto grudges or past pain way too tightly, almost like they’re feeding off of it. forgiveness isn’t their strong suit; once someone crosses them, it’s like an internal switch flips, and they’ll silently cut that person out for good.

their need for intensity can border on self-sabotage. they crave emotional highs and lows, and if things get too stable or predictable, they might unconsciously stir up drama just to feel that rush again. it’s as if they fear peace because, to them, it might mean a lack of depth. but this pattern can end up hurting people who just want a calm, steady love.

they can also be a bit manipulative in relationships. scorpio moons have a knack for understanding people’s weak spots and, when they’re feeling insecure or hurt, might use this insight to get the upper hand or control the situation. it’s like a defense mechanism-they’ll push buttons just to test loyalty or see how much someone really cares, often without realizing how destructive this can be.

scorpio moons are driven by a deep need to understand life’s complexities and uncover what’s hidden beneath the surface. having the moon in scorpio means that their emotional core is tied to scorpio’s intense, transformative energy, which makes them feel everything in extremes. they aren’t wired for light-hearted emotions; their experiences with feelings are all-or-nothing, which creates that intense, sometimes overwhelming inner world.

part of this comes from scorpio’s association with themes of life, death, and rebirth-it’s a sign that’s constantly in the process of shedding and regenerating. scorpio moons are almost emotionally programmed to seek out these transformative cycles, but it makes them feel like they’re living in a constant state of survival. this can make them fiercely protective of themselves and others but also hyper-aware of betrayal or disloyalty. because they feel everything so profoundly, they end up developing thick emotional armor, only letting people in if they’re sure it’s safe.

they’re also deeply intuitive, almost psychic, when it comes to understanding others’ intentions. this comes from a need to protect themselves from vulnerability. it’s like a sixth sense that lets them read people’s energy and motives without anyone saying a word. they pick up on power dynamics and hidden agendas in ways most people don’t, which makes them wary and, at times, even suspicious. the downside? this hyper-awareness of potential threats can make them closed off, always expecting the worst.

finally, scorpio moons have a complex relationship with control. because they experience emotions so intensely, they fear losing themselves in them. to counter this, they might develop subtle ways to control their environment or relationships, creating situations where they feel powerful rather than vulnerable. it’s like they’re in a constant dance with their own emotions, learning to balance depth with self-protection. it’s what gives them that air of mystery and emotional intensity that’s both magnetic and, sometimes, challenging.

[ashcal99]

Collarbones : Jasper Whitlock Hale IV

Chapter Four

"I can see your collarbones and baby I'm scared, Never thought I'd be so unprepared"

Summary: Camila Johnson was only 16 when she was diagnosed with leukemia. By the time she had turned 17, the doctors had tried everything to save her. Her family is close to giving up hope when they hear of a doctor who may be able to help her. The only problem is, he lives on the opposite side of the country. The small family soon decides to move to the small town in Washington, in efforts to prolong her life. In doing so, her life changes forever.

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, violence, descriptions of disease and weight loss, general angst, slow burn

Words: 7.4k

A/N: Please lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list. Hope you enjoy. Made this chapter extra long for the wait x

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——————

January 29th, 2005

Camila sat there, frozen in time, for what seemed like an eternity trying to process what Jasper had just admitted. So, Jasper sat there, unmoving as well as not breathing. He wasn’t sure how she was taking the new information and suddenly found himself wishing that he held Edward’s power in that moment, willing to give everything just to know the thoughts that were going through her mind. Second best, he knew that she, remarkably, held no fright towards the admission, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she lacked the simple instinct that humans should be born with. The instinct to run away screaming when someone tells you that they’re a monster and could easily kill you. 

At the end of the day, he knew that was what he was. A monster. He may have changed his diet and tried to appear human, but he was far from it. He had killed people. Innocent people. He couldn’t even make the argument that his family had done the same, because their body counts were minuscule compared to his. He had fed off of human blood for nearly eighty-five years before Alice had found him. Even with his new found vegetarianism considered, he still slipped up. More than anybody else, and even though he knew that Camila was safe around him, he also knew that she had every reason in the world to fear him, and it confused the hell out of him that she didn’t.

He couldn’t help himself as he spoke, the silence eating away at his resolve. “Can you please tell me what’s going through your mind?” He asked, nervousness gripping his throat as he croaked the words out. 

Camila’s eyes flashed over to him, eyebrows creased in… confusion maybe? “I don’t know… I feel like I know I shouldn’t believe you, but for some reason, I do?” She said, eyes tracing his serious expression. “Can you prove it? N-not the vampire thing, I guess, but something to prove any of it is true?” She asked. 

Jasper’s mind reeled for a moment trying to think of something quickly, when an idea popped into his head. “Remember how you said I’m really good at reading emotions? Like an empath?” He asked, waiting for her nod before continuing. “It’s a little more than that. Some of us, when we turn, we get… gifts. When I was changed I could not only feel people’s emotions like they were my own, but manipulate them too.” He explained slowly, trying to find the right words.

Given the situation, he figured this was his best bet in not freaking her out any further. Eyes scanning her face to make sure that she was okay with what he was about to do, he pushed a wave of happiness towards her. He watched as the corners of her lips curved upwards, the crease between her eyebrows smoothing as her heart filled with overwhelming joy. 

She didn’t know nor care why she had become so  suddenly happy, but as soon as the emotion was ripped back from her, the pieces clicked together. The smile slowly dropped from her face as her mind returned to where had been just moments before. “Holy shit.” She huffed out. He was telling the truth. As soon as the feeling of joy had hit her, it was gone. 

Her eyes widened suddenly. Maybe this was the explanation as to why she felt so strongly towards him. Maybe it was him all along, manipulating her feelings. “Y-you don’t do that to me often do you?” She asked nervously. 

Jasper shook his head quickly, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. “No. I’ve never with you before.” He rushed out, hoping to whatever god that she would believe him.

Letting out a sigh, Camila let her shoulders drop as she let herself relax back into her seat. She had no reason to think he was lying. From what she could tell, all of her feelings and emotions involving him were genuine, no matter how much she wished that they weren’t there to begin with.

“So, is the whole thing about garlic true?” She asked trying to lighten the mood. Everything had suddenly gotten much too daunting.

Throwing his head back with a bark of laughter, Jasper ran his long thin fingers through his golden curls. How in the world was she taking all of this so well? The ball had to drop at some point, right? There’s no way that everything would go this smoothly. Surely after she learned about his past and how much of a monster he really was, surely then, she would run away screaming. But that admission would have to wait for another day, because in that moment, he would give anything keep Camila as far away from that part of him as possible.

——————

January 31st, 2005

The rest of her day with Jasper had flown by, and before Camila knew it, it was the start to her second week at Forks High School. After the exhaustion of her first week, and hanging out with Jasper on Saturday, the rest of her weekend consisted of sleep and cramming in the remainder of her homework. When Monday finally came around, she was well rested, at lest as well rested as she could be. 

Camila had just joined the end of the line in the cafeteria, Eric talking her ear off behind her once again, when her eyes finally met Jasper’s across the crowded room. She hadn’t seen him since he had dropped her back off at home Saturday night. Like a perfect gentleman, he had waited, car pulled against the curb and watched her figure until she had successfully made it fully inside her home, before he drove away. 

Now that her eyes had met his for the first time since she had been given the opportunity to fully, well mostly maybe, process his confession, she felt a weight leave her shoulders that she wasn’t even aware was there in the first place. The rest of their night on Saturday had consisted mostly of more light hearted conversation, so now that she had been given the time to think of more questions to ask him, she had began to grow anxious of waiting. 

She knew the questions would have to wait, however, but seeing his face, that alone, eased that stress and anxiety from her. Everything had happened so quickly that her mind didn’t know how to calculate what his confession actually meant, and over the remainder of the weekend her mind had time to wander. He was dangerous, that much was apparent, but somehow, she also knew that he wouldn’t hurt her. That she was safe with him. 

It felt almost like a fever dream, everything happening so quickly. They had only just met, but suddenly, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so comfortable with another person. So comfortable with being vulnerable, and content with sharing with him what she had been so keen on keeping from everyone else. Clearly he felt the same, that much she could gather herself, given his blatant honesty with her. 

Eric’s voice broke her from her thoughts as he continued his ramble on about how their trip to La Push Beach had gone and how she ‘had to join them next time’. She had to stop herself from cringing, not looking forward to coming up with another excuse in the future. She turned to him, attempting to give a reassuring smile. She didn’t want to come off rude, especially with the wide grin that was stretched across his face. He was just trying to be friendly, and that’s what she wanted. So, even if his persistence slightly annoyed her, she was still happy to have him around. 

Chills ran up her spine as icy fingertips brushed lightly across her lower back, bringing goosebumps quickly to the surface of her skin. She knew who it was, of course, before she looked up, having already gotten used to the feel of his touch, but that didn’t stop the flutter of her heart as her eyes met Jasper’s once more. He had sensed her unease from across the room and had decided to come to her rescue. 

“Will you sit with us for lunch today?” He asked, giving her a quirked eyebrow as well as a small smile. Alice had been pestering him since his return on Saturday to spend more time with the girl. As usual, she would get what she wanted, she already knew that of course, but that didn’t stop her from reminding him at every chance she got. 

Jasper watched as the gears in her head began to turn, slowly processing his invitation, her heart sputtering at his touch. He couldn��t help his smile from growing bigger across his face, enjoying hearing the reaction he had on her heart. “S-sure.” She stuttered out, turning back to the lunch lady to pay for her tray of food. She sent a small wave and smile to the boy, Eric, and fell in stride by Jasper’s side, his hand ghosting the small of her back as he lead her to the table that held the remainder of his family. 

Eric stood for a moment, mouth agape as he stared at their retreating figures. What was it with the new girls and the Cullens? Why was that family suddenly so sociable after a year of barely speaking to anybody? From across the cafeteria, the two were beginning to attract the stares from the rest of her friend group, and when she finally made it to the table, Jasper pulling her chair out for her to take a seat, the majority of the overcrowded room was practically ogling them. A fact, in which was doing nothing to ease the anxiety that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

Setting her tray down, she slowly dropped into the hard plastic seat, shoulders tensing as she took in the perfect faces sat in front of her. Camila had of course met Alice the week previous, but she had yet to meet Jasper’s other siblings. She wasn’t sure if she should feel more or less comfortable meeting the pale strangers now that she knew their secret, but the fact was, she knew and nothing would change that now. 

Feeling waves of anxiety and stress radiate from Camila, he decided now would be a time to use his powers, one that he hoped she wouldn’t be mad at him for later. He hated seeing the worry in her eyes and knew that her stress was unnecessary, so he did what he could and pushed feelings of calmness and comfortability towards her as he settled into the seat next to her. 

As the anxiety lifted from her shoulders, a polite smile formed on Camila’s lips. Jasper cleared his throat from beside her, gaining the attention of his siblings. “Camila this is my family.” He gestured towards the group. “Alice you met already.” He said pointing to the pixie haired girl on the other side of Camila.

The whole family already knew of his admission, and given the circumstances he was more that content with their reactions. He hadn’t exactly known what to expect from the situation, never having dealt with anything like it before. Carlisle and Esme had been happy for him, and though this slightly unnerved him, he knew it came with good intentions. He knew what coming clean to Camila could mean for her future, for their future, but he still refused to get his hopes up. Her knowing and having the choice to ‘live’ on had no guarantee that she would make that decision, and as much as it pained him, he knew that he would never be able to make that choice for her. 

Alice’s teeth shown brightly as she smiled at the girl, squealing lightly as she pulled her into a tight hug. Camila’s eyes widened, the immortal girl’s antics still surprising her despite already being on the receiving end previously. Before she was given the time to process and reciprocate the hug, Alice had pulled away and had returned to her comfortable position in her seat. 

Alice was of course ecstatic, even though she had seen the whole thing happen already, because now she was free to develop their friendship. She had seen the whole thing play out and knew just how close she would grow to Camila, and like a child on Christmas morning, was practically bouncing with anticipation when he had arrived home Saturday night. 

Jasper continued, stopping to roll his eyes at his sister. “This is Emmet and Rosalie.” He said, gesturing to the couple sitting at the opposite side of the table. Emmet gave a ginormous half smile half smirk to the girl, while Rosalie attempted the give a polite smile as well.

Emmet was of course laid back about the whole thing, only giving him a little bit of shit for finally finding his mate. Rosalie was surprisingly at ease with the situation, unlike her feelings towards Bella. Of course, Jasper knew why. She had always resented her immortality, having her humanity ripped away from her the way that it had been, and she wouldn’t wish that on anybody else. He knew her calm demeanor had to do with the fact that, unlike her human life, Camila had no chance of growing old. No chance of starting a family.

His heart ached at this knowledge, knowing that he would give anything he could to see Camila age into her beauty. To see her grow and start her adult life. To see her get married and have children, even if he wasn’t the one to give her that future. Unfortunately, maybe because God or whatever higher power was cruel or had a sick twisted sense of humor, she had no hope for that life. 

It had been an unexpected punch to the gut to meet her mother. She was such a perfect reflection of her daughter that it was almost like he was glimpsing into that impossible future. He knew that this would be how Camila would look, given the chance. But she didn’t have that chance, and that was his best guess as to why Rosalie had refrained from giving him the same shit she had been giving Edward. 

“And this is Edward.” Jasper said finally, turning to look at displeased expression of his adopted brother.

Edward had seemed slightly bitter about the situation. He obviously knew the differences between the two girls, but couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous at which the ease Jasper came by with telling Camila the truth. He himself would never wish the future of immortality onto Bella, but only wished that he didn’t have to suppress his want for the girl. He knew it was best to stay as far away from Bella as possible, hence why he had been avoiding her to the best of his abilities, but his resolve was beginning to waver. 

Jasper didn’t have to deal with any of this, despite having his own struggles. Camila already knew the truth about them, and soon she would be making that decision on her own. Hell, he didn’t even have to worry about his thirst around the girl, a fact that he couldn’t help but be bitter about. Edward had always had what he considered decent self control with human blood, something that he couldn’t say the same for with Jasper, and the one person that it truly mattered for, he was at his lowest point with self control. It was cruel irony. 

Despite not being able to read Edward’s mind like he could his, Jasper could feel his emotions, and he could fill in the rest himself. He didn’t want any animosity between him and his brother, but he knew that whatever Edward was feeling wouldn’t stop him from growing closer to Camila, and definitely wouldn’t stop Alice from begging him to let her spend more time with her. So that was why he had decided it was time to introduce her. What better time and place to break the ice between Camila and the rest of his family than the controlled environment of a school cafeteria? He had thought, and now, seeing the slight glare on Edward’s face, he couldn’t decide whether or not that had been a bad decision on his part.

As thoughts of anger rushed through Jasper’s mind, Edwards eyes flickered over to his. Edward’s glare softened as he processed Jasper’s internal dialog. He knew that it wasn’t his fault and he knew that it wasn’t Camila’s, but he couldn’t help how he felt. He was jealous and he was finding it difficult to hide his emotions. His eyes flitted across Jasper’s face, neck, and arms. The scars littered across his skin were a reminder to not push things with him. The crescents, nearly invisible to the human eye, were a gigantic red flag to any vampire. Neon lights that flashed bright as a warning to everyone around him to stay back or else. Although he knew that his brother would never hurt him, he also knew not to start a fight, because it would most definitely be one he would lose.

Huffing in irritation, Edward pulled out his chair, rushing to leave the cafeteria. He could try all he wanted to be civil and not start a fight, but he wasn’t about to sit there and take this torture. Over time it would get easier for him to cope, but in that moment, the wound was fresh and he needed to be far from the reminder. 

Jasper sighed in annoyance, rolling his eyes once again as he let his defenses fall back down to their normal level. “Ignore him.” He muttered to the girl beside him, slinging his arm protectively around the back of her chair.

——————

“So what’s with you and Cullen?” Tyler blurted out suddenly. Camila’s head fell to look at her boots that thudded along the hallway towards their last class of the day. She could feel the blood rushing up to her cheeks and knew that it would do little to help her case if he saw the growing blush. 

“What do you mean?” She asked, feigning confusion. It was a matter of time before someone started the inevitable conversation given Jasper’s display in the cafeteria that day, but she had hoped she would have a bit more time to prepare herself. 

Tyler stuffed his hands into his pockets awkwardly. “Yeah, you two seemed… cozy today at lunch.” He muttered.

Camila raised her head, quirking an eyebrow at the dark skinned boy in stride beside her. “Cozy?” She asked, a hint of humor tinting her voice. Tyler was clearly bothered by this whole situation, a fact that she found humorous given the circumstance. From the fact that Tyler had asked her to prom just a few days previous, she could gather herself that he was most likely jealous of Jasper. Not that he had any reason to be. Camila had every intention to stick to her plan of staying single and as much as she was beginning to care for Jasper, she didn’t see that changing.

A scoff sounded from the boy by her side as he rolled his eyes at her teasing. “Yeah. Cozy. You sat with his family at lunch instead of us, and he was practically all over you.” He argued. 

Camila laughed lightly at his words. “He was not all over me.” She argued. In fact, like usual, she had been hyper aware of every touch from the pale immortal. As usual, he had shown to be very hesitant in touching her, only giving the slight graze of his fingertips along her covered back as he lead her to the table. She of course was also extremely aware of the arm that he had slung protectively around the back of her seat after Edward’s whole display, but he had been very precise in not letting his cold skin actually touch her in any way.

Tyler groaned frustratedly. “Whatever it was, I don’t like it.” He complained.

Camila’s eyebrows knitted together. What was it with people at this school being assholes to them? The Cullen’s kept to themselves, sure, but they were never anything but polite to anyone they came into contact with. At this point, all these little comments that everybody kept making were beginning to piss her off. “And why should you not liking it mean anything to me?” She asked incredulously. Sure, she wanted to make friends, and be nice, but she was starting to become defensive over Jasper and she wasn’t just going to stand there and take everybody’s bullshit. Because that’s what it was. Complete and utter bullshit.

Tyler’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to respond in that way, never seeing her angry before. “I mean, he’s kind of creepy isn’t he? I’m just trying to look out for you. He doesn’t seem… good.” He said trailing off towards the end as he took in the expression of anger growing more and more prevalent on her face.

She had to bite back a snide remark as she tried to process how she could respond without sounding like a total bitch. An awkward silence rung between the two teens before she decided that she didn’t really care anymore. If he was going to give unsolicited advice to her when he barely knew her then she would respond accordingly. “No offense Tyler, but I didn’t ask for your shitty advice. I’m a big girl, I can look out for myself, thanks.” She said finitely.

Pushing her aching legs to move her forward at a faster pace, she let out an internal sigh of relief as the door to her calculous class came into view. Lunch had gone well, all things considered. Despite Edward’s little display, the rest of Jasper’s family had welcomed her with open arms. While the conversation mostly consisted of small talk and them asking her questions about herself, she could tell that they were all genuinely nice people. 

Alice had invited her over for the following weekend, in which Camila had immediately agreed to without thinking. Now that she had been given the time to think about the implications of the invite, she realized that she would be meeting their adoptive mother and seeing Carlisle. While she knew Carlisle fairly well, given meeting him the week prior, she realized how nervous she was to meet Esme. Jasper had talked the woman up so highly, but she couldn’t help but feel her nerves eating away at her. She would be meeting his mother soon, ‘adopted’ or not and it was only natural to have that kind of reaction. 

Jasper, as usual, was already seated at their assigned table by the time she had arrived to the classroom. Camila flitted to the back of the room to her seat, letting her body drop into the confines of the cool plastic, as she let out a heavy sigh. 

“Are you okay?” Jasper asked, concern lacing his voice. It was normal for her be exhausted by the end of the school day, but he could also feel her anger and frustration. The feelings set off warning bells in his mind and he was immediately on alert to what had upset her. 

Camila rolled her eyes, raking her slim fingers through the long dark strands of her hair. “Tyler Crowley is an asshole.” She said simply, annoyance still evident on her face as she recalled their conversation that had just taken place moments ago. 

His eyes flickered over to where said boy had just entered the classroom, narrowing as he took in the sight. “What did he say?” He asked, immediately defensive over the girl. 

“He apparently has an issue with you and ‘just wants to look out for me’.” She said, yanking her workbook and and pencil case from her backpack and slamming them down on the desk.

Jasper’s shoulder’s drooped at her words as he hummed in reply. He couldn’t even be mad. What Tyler said was clearly justified, whether or not Camila had realized. She should be warned about him. Just because he didn’t thirst for her blood didn’t mean that he wasn’t a danger towards her. Didn’t mean that he couldn’t hurt her, even if it wasn’t intensional. Didn’t mean that he wasn’t a monster at the end of the day.

Hearing his near silent response, Camila turned her head to see him looking down slightly defeated, eyes refusing to meet her own. “Jasper.” She said, trying and failing to get him to look at her. “Jasper.” She repeated, grasping at his hand  that laid in a tight fist at his thigh. 

Electricity shot through her fingers as they brushed the marble skin of his clenched knuckles, but she pushed on. “Can you look at me, please?” She asked, her soft voice contrasting the anger that had filled it just moments ago. 

His amber eyes flickered up to meet hers. As much as he wanted to sulk in that moment, he wanted more to give her what she wanted. Her eyes softened as she saw the pain that filled his. They were always filled with pain, but this was different. More of an inner torment and seeing it made her chest ache. 

She turned his fist over in her palm, nudging the fingers apart so she could intertwine them with her own. “He’s full of shit, Jazz. I know you would never hurt me.” She said, voice softly ringing in his ears. 

The pain in his heart grew at her words. He didn’t deserve her. She was too perfect for his damned self and he knew it, but that didn’t stop him from being grateful that she was there. It didn’t stop him from selfishly wanting her. He pulled their intertwined fingers up to his lips were he laid a soft kiss on the back of her palm, thanking her for her kindness. Thanking her for her comfort. 

The touch of his chilled lips on her skin sent her heart into overdrive, and knowing that he could he hear his effect on her didn’t help the blush that was creeping onto her cheeks. She had expected him to drop her hold after that, but instead, their hands remained, bound together and laying gently in his lap. 

Class continued, the two working together on finishing the next page in their worksheet. Jasper of course could finish the work in less than a minute, but anything that gave him the excuse to talk to Camila he would gladly do. She sat there, eyebrows furrowed as she worked over a particularly difficult problem on the sheet. Normally, she would have no problem solving the equations, but today her mind was wandering too much. She sighed, giving up as she let her pencil clatter onto the chipped veneer of the desk.

“Do you want to come over to my house today?” She asked suddenly. Clearly seeing that she had caught him off guard, she continued. “I have more questions.” She clarified. 

Jasper groaned internally. As much as he would love to avoid the inevitable conversation, he also knew that it had to happen at some point. At least he would get to spend more time with her, a definite plus. “Sure, I can just drive us after class if you’d like.” He offered. Alice had told him to drive separately to school that day, and now it was clear why. He would have to thank her later. 

Camila nodded, pulling her flip phone from her bag and trying to discreetly type a quick text to her mother letting her know that Jasper would drive her home. Doing so was a bit difficult to do one handed, but she wasn’t about to take her other hand out of his grasp. 

The remainder of the class trudged on slowly to Camila’s dismay. Now that she knew that she would be able to ask all of the questions that had been racing through her mind, she couldn’t seem to clear her head of them. Finally, a bell rang shrilly throughout the class, signaling the end of the school day. An unspoken agreement stood between her and Jasper as they both proceeded to pack away their belongings without undoing the grip on each other’s hands. 

She wasn’t sure what the hand holding meant to him or even herself, but she didn’t exactly care. She already had to constantly remind herself of her promise to keep any romance at bay, but hand holding didn’t necessarily have to mean that. It was comforting, having his cold palm pressed against hers, and despite her internal screaming at herself that it was a bad idea, she didn’t want to pull away. So there they were, walking down the hallway, hand in hand, attracting even more stares than usual. 

Camila let out a sigh as they reached the parking lot, the cool air feeling nice on her feverish skin. Puffs of vapor swirled in front of her mouth as steady breaths of hot air left her parted lips. Jasper had to rip his eyes away from the sight to make sure that he was walking in the right direction. He needed to pull his shit together. Kissing her hand had been bad enough, but he had to stop himself from thinking too much about her lips. Her soft warm plump lips. Jesus Christ, STOP. 

He wished so badly in that moment that he could’ve kissed her. Regardless of the numerous bystanders. However, he knew that it wasn’t safe. He didn’t trust himself enough not to end up accidentally hurting her. He didn’t even know if she would’ve kissed him back for fuck’s sake. And here he was feeling like an absolute creep again. 

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he pulled the passenger door of his car open for her. Reluctantly, she let loose of his grasp, immediately feeling an emptiness without it’s presence. She settled into the plush bucket seat, pulling her bag into her lap as he shut the door softly behind her. 

Flitting quickly, or as quick as seemed human, to the driver’s side, Jasper slid in and turned the key in the ignition. Shifting the car into reverse, he backed out of the parking spot and shifted back into drive as he sped out onto the street. He internally thanked his past self for buying a manual transmission before reaching over to grasp Camila’s hand once more. 

Camila let her hair fall in front of her face, hoping that the curtain of dark strands hid the smile that she couldn’t wipe away. For someone who was so adamant on not dating, she kept finding herself being giddy whenever he touched her. What was she a twelve year-old? He was just holding her hand, she shouldn’t feel like a swarm of butterflies was flying around in her stomach. 

The drive to Camila’s home hadn’t taken long, and by the time they arrived at the small house, he mother’s mini van was still absent from the driveway. She had replied earlier letting her know that she was going to go grocery shopping since she had time before she had to go to work, and Camila was happy to see that she hadn’t returned yet. One less awkward interaction with Jasper and her parents would always be a good thing. 

As they stepped through the threshold of the home, she found herself wishing she had cleaned her room. She hadn’t thought of the mess she had left behind before she had invited him over, albeit a small mess. Either way, she couldn’t help herself but try and hurriedly pick up the few pieces of clothing scattered around the room once they made it through the doorway. 

Once she was content with her ‘cleaning’ she shut the door softly behind her and plopped down on her mattress, the springs squeaking slightly in protest. Scooting backwards until her back met the wall, she patted the empty space beside her, gesturing for Jasper to join her. On one hand, she almost wanted to sit out on the couch in the living room, as it would probably seem less intimate that way, but she also didn’t want to be interrupted by her mother when she inevitably returned home from the store. So there they were sitting side by side awkwardly on her worn out used mattress and now she didn’t know how to start the conversation. 

Sensing her hesitation, Jasper spoke up. “So, you have questions.” He said, wanting to end the torture of waiting any longer. If she was going to run away screaming, he would rather it be sooner than later, because the anticipation was slowly eating away at him. 

Camila sucked in a breath. “How old are you?” She blurted out. Jasper groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. He should’ve expected her to jump right to the point, but, somehow, he hadn’t. “You said it was a conversation for another day. It’s another day now.” She reasoned.

“I know. I know.” He said with a sigh. “I’m just really old, Darlin’.” He said, hoping the nickname would distract her. It didn’t.

She scoffed. “That’s not an answer.” She said bluntly. 

Jasper closed his eyes, sucking in a breath as he braced for the impact of her reaction. “I’m a hundred and sixty-one.” He muttered lowly. Utter silence followed. 

Camila didn’t know what she expected, if the age he had given was younger or older than she had thought it would be, but hearing him say such a precise age made everything seem way more real. She couldn’t find the words to say in response, so instead, she reached over to grasp his hand once more, letting him know that she wasn’t disgusted like he had thought. 

“Will you tell me your story?” She asked, not being able to help her intrigue.

His bright gold eyes met her emerald irises. “It’s kind of gruesome.” He warned, trying his best to prolong the inevitable admission of his past, but knowing that it was just that. Inevitable.

“I want to know.” She said simply. “If you’re willing to tell me.” She clarified. 

Jasper was fucked and he knew it. Anything that she wanted, he would give her in a heartbeat, but she would hate him after this. “I didn't have quite the same upbringing as my adopted siblings.” He said, reaching his free hand over reluctantly, to roll up the sleeve on the arm that she held. 

She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed them before, but there they were. Hundreds of crescent shaped scars shimmering lightly in the dim lighting emitted from her ceiling fan. Now that she knew what to look for, she could see the scars were scattered across every piece of visible skin. Down his arms, onto the hand that was holding hers, a few up his neck to his handsome face. “Are those… bites?” She asked incredulously.

“Battle scars.” He responded, a small smirk gracing his lips. “I was seventeen when I joined the Confederate Army.” He said, pausing when he saw her grimace. “I know. I wish I could say that I didn’t know what I was fighting for, or against, but I knew enough. I’m not proud of it.” He said hanging is head in shame. 

“I was the youngest major in the Texas cavalry. All without having seen any real battle.” He continued.

Camila perked up. “I knew that was a Texas accent.” She said smirking at him, gaining a small smile in repose. Leave it to her to try and lighten the mood as soon as it gets dark.

Still, he pushed on, knowing that it was about to become a much darker conversation. “I was riding back to Galveston...after evacuating a column of women and children. When I saw her.” He said dauntingly. “I immediately offered her my aid.” He continued.

“Maria was creating an army. A newborn vampire army.” He clarified. “Our kind are at their strongest in their first year after changing. Their human blood still lingers in their veins and gives them more speed and strength.” He explained.

“Newborn armies were very common in the South, and cost a brutal battles for territory.” He continued, losing himself in the story. “Maria won them all. She was smart, careful. And she had me. I was the second in command. My abilities to control emotions served her well.” He said, looking down to the warm hand he still had clutched in his own, trying to find comfort in her touch. 

“I trained her newborns. An endless occupation since she never let them live beyond their first year.” He said, cringing from the memory. “It was my job to dispose of them.” He said, voice thick with emotion. It pained him to remember what he had done. To remember their pain. “I could feel everything they felt.”

The crease between Camila’s brows deepened. It clearly hurt for him to recall these memories, and she found herself wishing that she could take that pain away. 

“I thought what Maria and I had was love. But I was her puppet. She pulled the strings. I didn't know there was another way. Until I found Alice in 1948. Now she'd seen me coming, of course.” He paused, remembering that this would wouldn’t make much sense to Camila. 

He gathered his thoughts quickly, trying explain the best he could. “She has visions, of possible futures. They change when decisions are made, but she knew when and where to find me.” He smiled slightly. “She saw you, even though she conveniently didn’t warn me.” He explained.

“I don't know what I'd have become without her. I’d done horrible, unspeakable things, and she helped me get past that. My family choses to feed off of animal blood rather than human blood, but it wasn’t always like that for me. I’ve killed innocent people. I’m not a… good person.” He ended his story with a sigh, unsure of how she was feeling. 

Her mind was filled with conflicting emotions that he couldn’t quite place all together. “I completely understand if you want me to leave.” He said, moving to pull his hand away from hers. 

Her grip tightened as her eyes shot up to his. “No, stay. Please.” She muttered. She knew how her reaction must seem. In truth, she had almost expected worse. As bad as his story was, at least he didn’t actively kill people. It was a horrible argument, she knew, but after being given the rest of the weekend to let her mind wander, she had tried to prepare herself for the worst. 

Her silence was agony and he couldn’t help himself when he asked. “Can you please tell me what you’re thinking?”

Camila sighed, bringing her eyes back to his. “I’m not going to sit here and act like what you did wasn’t wrong, because it was. But I’m also not going to actively try and make you feel any worse for it. You’ve had over fifty years to regret what you did, and you clearly do. I’m not going to judge you for something that you wish you could’ve changed, not when I know you’re a good person now.” She said. 

Jasper shook his head in disbelief. How was she this forgiving? It seemed impossible. He was sure she would be disgusted with him, but here she was forgiving him for something he couldn’t even forgive himself for. “How are you not terrified of me?” He asked.

She looked deep into his eyes as she answered. “I’m not scared because I know you won’t do anything to hurt me.” She said simply.

“I could hurt you on accident. Very easily.” He argued, looking ashamed. “I could crush you just by hugging you too tightly. I know you don’t understand fully, but it would be so easy that I actively have to try and not hurt you.” He said, a deep frown on his face.

Camila’s eyebrows furrowed as she brought her free hand down to trace the crescent shaped scars that littered his arm. “I don’t know what to tell you. I trust you, that’s the best answer I can give you, Jasper. You need to try and have trust in yourself.” She answered.

Jasper shook his head, baffled that she had so much trust in him to begin with. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her. Seeing the sadness still in his eyes, she rushed, trying to find a change of topic to lighten the mood from the darkness that it had reached. “So, if you can manipulate emotions and Alice sees visions of the future, does anyone else in your family have a ‘gift’.” She asked, curiosity peaking once again. 

Jasper was thankful for the change of topic, already feeling himself beginning to spiral from the continuous self hatred. “Yeah, Edward is the only other one in our family. He can, um, read minds… I know it sounds ridiculous.” He said, slightly humiliated at how fictional everything sounded. 

“Oh god. That’s… embarrassing.” She muttered, her mind beginning to wander. Edward had no doubt read her mind and heard her thoughts of Jasper. Those were thoughts she didn’t even want to admit to herself and now he definitely had knew all about them. 

Suddenly her mind went to his exit at lunch. Was that why he had left? Was it something she had thought that had set him off? “What happened with him at lunch today?” She asked.

Rolling his eyes at the memory, Jasper tried to form the most comprehensible explanation. “He’s jealous that I can tell you the truth and he can’t tell Bella.” He said simply. 

“Bella Swan?” Camila asked.

Jasper nodded. “He… has a particular interest in her. He’s been trying to avoid her because he knows that it won’t end well, and he’s jealous that I don’t have to do the same with you.” He explained. 

“Why is it different with me?” She asked, trying to ignore the implication that Jasper had an interest in her.

His eyes trailed across the bare walls of her bedroom, looking anywhere but at her as he continued. “He has a really hard time with the scent of her blood, while yours is different for me.” He said.

“Because of the leukemia?” She asked.

Jasper nodded again. “It’s more dangerous for her than it is for you because of that. It’s hard for him to even be in the same room as her. Either way it would end badly.” He explained.

“End badly how? Surely it could end in more ways than just him killing her right?” She asked. She knew the subject had to be touchy and sensitive, but she couldn’t keep herself from asking.

Here it was. The scariest topic of them all. If he didn’t handle this just right, if he didn’t use the right words, then there went his chance of a future with her. He gulped, mustering the courage to speak. “He could kill her or he could change her. Both which he doesn’t want to do.” 

Camila’s eyed widened. She hadn’t even thought of that. Changing into a vampire. She wasn’t sure why her mind hadn’t gone there, but she hadn’t even considered that a possibility. She couldn’t help it when her mind wandered to what this could mean for her. He had said it like he was trying to imply something else entirely. He had to know the possible endings. Surely Alice had seen. 

“Are there more possible endings for me? Futures where I don’t die from the leukemia?” She asked. She had to know. She had spent a year coming to terms with the fact that her life would be cut short, but now she wasn’t sure. She knew that her illness would in no doubt end up taking her human life, but what if she turned. What if she changed into something else where the cancer didn’t effect her anymore? What if she wasn’t human anymore? She had to know, because suddenly, after a year of withering away, she might have another option. She might have hope.

Jasper turned his eyes back to hers. This was the make it or break it moment. He sucked in a breath, feeling a tightness in his chest regardless of the fact that he didn’t need the oxygen. 

And he spoke. “Yes… Alice has seen it."

Next Chapter

Tag List:

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[set-wingedwarrior]

After today’s episode I saw, well within reason, a lot of people talking about Prospera’s brainwashing of Suletta, and I wanted to share my two cents.

First of all, my (probably) unpopular opinion: Prospera was kinda right this time.

DON’T KILL ME, LET ME EXPLAIN PLS.

So, Prospera’s technically right: they are being attacked my terrorists, they are in mortal danger, and they need to fight back to survive and save everybody, and that will mean most likely taking lives. Like, that’s fair. War isn’t pretty and survival demands sacrifice.

What’s really wrong and fucked up is:

 1) the way she says and explaines it. Her whole voice and behaviour, the words she chooses, so calm and chill and apparently comforting but actually really dismissive (and kinda creepy imo). She approaches Suletta and the whole situation as if it’s not a big deal.

But at the same time, she does underline that they’re in danger, even pressing on Suletta’s rightful fear in order to have her move forward and fight.

This isn’t a “this is unfortunate, but it’s either us or them” kind of speech, but a “we must get to our goal at all cost”. The line is thin, but there’s a difference. And, most importantly, it is portrayed as if it’s a natural progression and not just a situational thing.

The thing is, we saw Suletta impacted by death, and these words alone aren’t enough to wipe away your morals. That brings me at point two, the most fucked up and vicious:

2) how Suletta has been raised and educated until then. She’s always following her motto with a smile, and helping others, never letting anyone (aside her mother) see her sad or overwhelmed. And what’s her mother’s answer every time she comes to her? “If you run, gain one. Move forward, gain two”.

After Miorine confronting her, we know that Suletta is scared every time and every time her motto is her way to cheer herself up, wear a smile, and keep going. The focus is always on moving forward, on the goal, and it NEVER AKNOWLEDGES OR QUESTIONS HER PRESENT FEELINGS.

It’s very likely that growing up, every time Suletta had to face something scary (harmless growing up stuff), she’s always been encouraged to move forward with that stupid motto instead of processing her feelings and thinking things through. Prospera just never taught her.

So, what does Suletta do instead? Say her motto like a mantra, and move forward withouth questioning anything, actively ignoring and burying her unprocessed feelings under a smile to the point that she doesn’t even realize it (it’s no surprise why she’s also so terrible at social cues and stuff).

Her whole bubbly happy persona is the product of her whole life having to face scary things withouth learning how to process how that made her feel, ignoring everything in favor of putting up her happy persona.

The result? Going from this

to this

because she doesn’t know any other way to “keep moving forward” that isn’t “do what you must and brush everything else off with a smile”. But what’s the result? Saving Miorine at the cost of their relationship because she’s rightfully horrified.

The problem isn’t even that Suletta killed a man; we already estabilished that this is a survival, and even if you can argue that she could have simply incapacitate the terrorist, considering that she’s been fighting for their lives until then it isn’t too unbelievable that instinct woul kick in and end it all the same way.

The problem is, obviously, how she reacted to it. I’d bet anything that, despite being still shocked, if Suletta just stayed serious (maybe still ignoring what she did in in favor of checking on and take care of Miorine because, again, this is a “live or die” situation) then Miorine would have understood and seen Suletta’s actions differently (”she made a sacrifice by doing something terrible to protect me”). But Suletta fucking laughed! How fucked up is that? Was she having fun?

All of this isn’t caused by Prospera’s words alone because they do have some merit in the given circumstances. No, this is about the way she speaks them and the way she knows how Suletta would perceive them.

She spent years raising her to move forward no matter what, withouth ever questioning if moving forward even is the smartest choice (and we saw with Guel the consequences that come from not thinking it through). Raising her to make her the perfect little soldier.

And she succeeded.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Family Headcanons

Because I need there to be drama and angst and accuracy because whoever the fuck wrote for Jack did not do eldest siblings justice /lh Also TW for angry parents (Riddle), divorce, dead parents, su*cide + death of a child (Vil’s) I Promise Not All Of Them Are Sad

- Riddle doesn't know he has an older, disowned sister, which was a contributing factor to how his mother treated him because she didn’t want another disappointment.  Riddles mom had another man before Riddles father, and they had Cora Rosehearts (because she kept her maiden name, she didn’t take on her partners last name and insisted for reputations sake, her kids would take on her last name) When Cora was six her behavioural "issues" started coming through, and despite her mothers medical background, she wouldn’t/couldn’t find ways to work with her ADHD to the point she almost hit Cora, but her father stepped in. They argued, the father was horrified, and Ms.Rosehearts blamed him and his genetics for the disappointment of a child. He left right then and there with his daughter and called the cops on her. Nothing happened because there was no proof, but Riddles mothers view of herself was so fragile, she felt she was failing if she didn’t have her perfect family. She very quickly found another man (probably someone she worked with) that she figured would be compatible enough with her to have a child that would meet her expectations Cora’s father finds it difficult to say no to anything Cora asks for because of how she was treated when she was little and he wasn’t always around to protect her. She’s pretty humble and doesn’t ask for much. They're really close and very happy, but Cora often thinks about her mother and what would happen if she did have another kid. Her father finds out about Riddle and debates whether or not he should tell Cora, but once Cora finds out she spends her own money to go find Riddle and show him he has a safe place to come. This happens around Halloween. It’s very overwhelming for Riddle, but eventually the two grow close. Their mother finds out and looses her mind, and she comes to NRC with the intent of homeschooling Riddle again, but Cora stands up to her for him. His mother’s disappointment in him hurts like hell, but he gets to know his biological dad eventually and starts to heal. He can’t bring himself to cut his mother out of his life, but he has harder boundaries after coming home early from winter holidays an emotional mess, just locking himself away in his room until break is over. - Trey is the eldest of 11.  Trey’s parents are both  pretty optimistic about everything, a little unrealistic This made Trey, as the eldest,  learn to be more down to earth, and keep things real, but hopeful. Its exhausting though, any sort of conflict between his parents (not that there’s much) he’s the buffer, but he has to do it for 10 other people. He’s incredibly patient but again, it’s tiring, resulting in apathy when he’s alone or sometimes with Cater/people his age save for Riddle. Seeing as he’s 18, his siblings are all two years younger than the one before them, the only set of twins being the second youngest at 2 years old who he’s closest to emotionally, and the youngest being a baby baby. His sister immediately after him is a little salty that he left home so easily, happy, even to let her take on the responsibility of becoming the “eldest”, but really she’s scared that he is going to leave permanently. Over break he gets the chance to address those fears and make up with her. He loves coming up with new recipes with each of his siblings, and his parents are incredibly proud of him. - Cater's mom and dad are on the brink of divorce his mom (and as a result of his mom, his sisters) spends money to cope but doesn’t have a job herself and relies fully on her husbands accounting skills to make sure things are fine and he's cheated on her once, she knows and uses it to guilt trip him into staying (in their private convos) this was way back, Cater would have been like 6 they, privately, agreed to stay together until all their kids moved out. His mom started trying harder to bond with her kids (also a recovering alcoholic at the time, she’s better by the time he’s 8) but really only succeeded with the girls, and could see that so panicked and just tried to include Cater in everything, thinking it would bring them closer, so if they did divorce before the kids were grown, she figured they’d want to stay with her more often and she could live off child support She also definitely got into a pyramid scheme to prove she could get a job however, his sisters still live at home (26 and 28) and his dad is just so emotionally exhausted he doesn’t care anymore, he’s just really fucking depressed and can’t bring himself to care anymore.  - I have nothing to note for Deuce. His mother is perfect. I love their dynamic. - Ace's older brother is Jack Hearts (he held onto his moms last name after she passed and uses it to honour her in his shows, Ace was too young to remember her) they were raised by their dad and grandparents. Ace adores his big brother immensely and texts him on at least a weekly basis, if not daily. Whenever he learns something new that he’s proud of, he takes a video of it and sends it to his family, because he knows that they’re his biggest cheering squad. (based on Disney Recruiters) - Leona’s family also has no change. I do think he and his sister in law are just really salty in almost a fun way towards each other. - Ruggie has SO many adoptive younger siblings (that the community helps raise, its not just up to his grandma). He’s kind of viewed as the communities pride and joy for getting into NRC, they all helped pay for his tuition and whatnot, so in return he helps them however he can. He and his grandma are tight, and they’re little shits to each other. - Jack does not read as an eldest sibling. He’s the youngest, but he has many younger cousins that all live nearby. He’s closest to his oldest/only sister and looks up to her, contributing to his sense of determination. Having had to look after his cousins made him fairly responsible, but as we saw in the tsum event, he still complained when he had to look after the little thing. That’s not an eldest sibling trait /hj. He has a total of four older siblings. His father is a very stoic, hard to read ex-body builder and his mom is a very eccentric, hyperactive tiny woman. His oldest sister has moved out, and married a successful businessman, and they have one child together. His next older brother tried moving out, got his heart broken, and came home to recover but hasn’t left since, and everyone’s ok with it. The second youngest members are twin brothers that loved wrestling with Jack when he was little, and continue to do so today, even though Jack is bigger than them. Their family was fairly conservative, so when one of the twins came out as gay, they worked to understand more. They’ve got the spirit of support even if they don’t fully understand. Jack’s mother loves telling stories about her kids to anyone who will listen, and his dad has pictures of them in his wallet. The cousins are from their dad’s siblings side, as Jack’s mom hasn’t spoken to her sister in a while, but hopes to hear from her soon. - Azul is an only child, raised by his mom and grandma, who yes, he calls his grandma “Nonna” because an underwater Italian leave me alone. They all yell at each other a lot but its never in malice. His mom is really good about giving him hugs though, but he could stand to go without the cheek pinches. - Jade and Floyd are implied to have multiple late siblings from when they were kids, and in Harveston they say "oh this is our family for now (mom, dad, them, and grandma)" which leads me to believe that their mom might be expecting and the whole family is just kinda waiting to see who survives the first 48 hours. The whole family is rather detached, they have to be for the sake of how survival works in the ocean, but now that the tweels are well on their ways to being adults, their mom is a lot more open with welcoming them home and giving them physical affection, and their dad wants to spend more time with them. This is normal for them, and they’re very glad to have gotten to this point. Their grandma has memory issues, so when they’re with her, Jade pins his hair back so the black stripe isn’t visible, making it a little easier for her to discern them from each other. - Jamil and Najma are two years apart in my mind, and their dynamic is excellent, I’m not messing with it. - Kalim has way too many half siblings, but not a single full sibling. This often makes him feel isolated and lonely even when he’s constantly surrounded by people. - Vil is an only child, but technically he's the youngest. (Tw death/suic*de) The press was bribed by his father to not let the story out after his wife suffocated their last child to death when she was two after a mental break. (she was also a renowned celebrity) They kept it hidden for four more years, but when she realized she wanted to do the same thing to Vil, she killed herself in the bathroom. He doesn’t know this, he just remembers her being beautiful and elegant, and wants to emulate her, which he does well. His father initially didn’t really want Vil to get into acting after seeing what it did to his wife, but Vil was adamant about being as much like his mother as possible. His grieving father didn’t have the heart to turn him down.   - Rook has 6 siblings, and he is the youngest. Each of his siblings excel in certain areas of hunting, as their parents are like Clayton and Mary Jane from Tarzan. Rook takes after his mother more, as his father spent most of his time with his older siblings out in the woods, or other biomes that they chose to hunt in. Rook stayed with his mother, learning about how to use every part of the animal, honouring it’s sacrifice, the beauty in death, etc. until he was about 9 and his father helped him shoot a long bow for the first time. Family reunions are difficult to schedule, but when they do happen, a nerf battle “to the death” happens, before each person makes their favourite dish from the last place they were. Also, his father used to shoot them with nerf bullets if they were getting too rowdy. - Epel has no change, I love him. One thing to note, I suppose is he is trans. His grandma knows. Doesn’t understand a darned thing but he’s happy so she’s happy for him. - Shrouds have each other, as well as "Mrs. Hades" as their aunt (based on Disney recruiters, link above). Their mom is a very warm, loving person, whereas their dad is more detached, (Mrs. Hades is his sister). I like how they mesh, so I’m leaving this alone. A/N I’m hesitant to say anything about Diasomnia except for Sebek, so apologies if you read all this way to try and find Malleus. He’s an only child. There’s no change. - Sebek has an older brother and sister, his sister shares more visible fae traits than either he or his brother do and he’s a little jealous but won’t admit it. His older brother is very bubbly and takes after their father. Sebek thinks he’s the youngest, however he gets to go home over summer break and find out his mother is pregnant. Also I love the HC that Trey and Sebek are distantly related, so yes, that’s canon here too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Alright thank you for reading! If you’d like to be put on a tag list please let me know! Masterlist 

[mirrorsmoonlight]

☆ ~ you don’t have to fight anymore

pairing: platonic!mizzen x district 5!reader summary: while you’re stuck in the cage you offer to be someones pillow for the night—or which mizzen ditches coral to get some well earned rest, maybe even a friend. but friendships don’t make it that far when it’s all for themselves. warnings: bonding (at first), canon violence, death, some language, uploaded via iphone, this was in my drafts for too long so i uploaded it :0

when he first approached you you’d felt fear, it wasn’t a secret that his district partner was one of the scariest tributes in here and your position didn’t really make you trust others that easily. but when you looked over you could sense he wasn’t planning to harm you, him looking more scared than you as he approached.

you were quiet as he stood infront of you, eyes directed away from his form to hopefully encourage him to spill the reason he came. but only after a few moments you couldn’t stand the awkward silence any longer, “with coral’s tight grip on you i never thought you’d ever make any connections with anyone but her.”

mizzen’s eyes embarrassedly shot down to his feet, your tone letting him know this was already a bad idea, “well i- just wanted to talk to you, it kinda gets boring talking to one person all the time.” at that your eyes softened a little, reminded that the other tributes you’d soon be against we’re around your age - mizzen looking like he were one of the youngest - and were all coping in different ways.

“right, sorry,” you shot him an embarrassed smile before patting the open spot next to you, “here, to make up for the bad first impression i made.”

he shot a sideways smile in thanks, making himself at home on the uncomfortable rock you perched yourself on before nervously turning towards you. “what’s your name,” there was genuine curiosity on his face, making you both confused and appreciative in a way.

“(name),” you smiled for a short moment but then frowned as the awful thoughts of what’s to come poisoned your mind and shot down your elevated attitude from moments before, “what does it matter anyways? in a few days we’ll be fighting to the death, not caring about our opponents name or the life they had before.”

“oh,” hurt blossomed across his face, sitting in silence for a bit as he pondered what to say back, “it matters because our names are the only thing we can keep, the rest of our life stripped away from us as soon as our names were called.”

“i know we’re all gonna die - that much is clear - but i just hoped i could know you all before that,” guilt bubbled back at the back of your throat again, his face scrunched up in a sad frown when you looked back at him. 

“shit, m’sorry kid, things have just been overwhelming,” you finally turned towards him, averting your whole attention to the conversation, gesturing towards him as you muttered your next words, “and that doesn’t excuse my behavior, since you’re obviously handling it somewhat better than i am.”

you paused for a moment, “it just that, knowing eachother will only make it harder when one of us have to die,” a tinge of sadness in your gaze as you looked at the young boy.

“that’s true,” mizzen looks down at his hands, a tear slipping down his cheek as he tries his best to get it together, upset at how emotional getting reaped made him and not wanting others to find him as an easy target because of his open vulnerability, “ it’s just, maybe we don’t have to be enemies.”

his innocence made your heart hurt, “maybe not out here but in the arena you have much better chances with coral, so sometime along the way we’ll be on opposite sides.” not sparing any time after to change the subject.

“well I’m actually kinda glad you came,” you offered a smile, “it’s nice knowing that they’re people who care enough to ask those types of things regardless of the circumstances we’re in.” mizzen smiled in return - the drying tear tracks staining his cheeks - although halfway through it, it broke into a yawn.

“you should go rest with coral,” you gestured where she was, not hiding the fact she was watching our interaction, “don’t want her coming for my head before we even get into the arena by keeping you here.”

mizzen looked back at her before shrugging, “i don’t think i mean that much to her, she’s probably just watching to make sure i don’t betray her in the arena.”

that caused the words to die in your throat, not knowing how to respond, having to have him to continue the conversation, “could i just stay here for the night? I don’t want to go back.”

you nodded in response as a sense of protectiveness washing over you, “you can rest on my shoulder too if you want, i know that there isn’t much in here that’s comfier.” mizzen looked at you for a second, contemplating your offer before gently resting his head on you, muttering a little ‘thank you’ before he closed his eyes.

-

it didn’t have to end like this, it shouldn’t have ended like this. the guilt bubbling in his throat mixing with the bile that he had to force himself to hold back as he watched your body fall from the beam before landing with the harsh smack on the arena floor.

what’s worse was that he was apart of this.

although he knew coral was planning to kill you, did he have to be apart of the joint effort? couldn’t he have distracted her a bit or maybe messed up so you could get away? couldn’t have coral asked tanner or treech to do it with her instead?

his momentary shock was dissipated as coral called for him and the others, readying up to hunt lucy gray after catching her emptying the water bottles they had gathered prior to killing you.

he carefully climbed down from the beam before crouching at your body - making sure the others weren’t watching before continuing - to mutter the last message to you that’ll come from his lips, “rest, it’s your turn to dream now.” he paused for a moment before his shaking fingers gently shut your eyes closed.

before making his way to the others, he shot a sorrowful look over his shoulder one last time, knowing that soon he’ll either join you or he’ll have to live with the guilt of what he’d done.

-

a/n: uploading a treech fic soon! and completely disregard the fact that this wasn’t posted on saturday :0

© mirrorsmoonlight. don’t translate or repost my works on any platform. dec 23 2023.

[tech-92]

Tech and his "Extra Curriculars"

(CW: Talks of car crashes, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and hard kink)

When it comes to thinking or talking about Tech in any sexual situation, I feel it's important to understand where we come from here on this blog. A lot of posts on our blog tagged "#tbb tech" have this weird masochistic vibe to them and that's for a reason. Our understanding of Tech comes mostly from our development of a concept we call "Tech Crash". The "Crash" part in Tech Crash is from the 1996 movie Crash staring James Spader where essentially, he gets off on participating in car crashes. Anyways, here's what we have written down about the Tech Crash situation:

I finally figured it out what's going on with Tech. I had been having trouble because I knew that there was something Weird happening with him, I just wasn’t sure what exactly. Now I know. So, like obviously it’s been (practically) established in canon that he’s autistic. I also personally read him as someone who’s ace but still has sex and enjoys it. I think both of those things are intrinsic to his experience of sex. I also think both of those things lend quite well to him being into some strange and unusual fetish. We also happen to know he’s into high speed racing and shit from the show… And its like Crash in which he's like, into car crashes but it’s not exactly that. But I am expanding on that. I think he’s into very high-risk scenarios and extreme masochism.

Part of the Tech autism situation is that, it’s really clear he has a hard time with emotions. Specifically, I think he has a lot of trouble parsing out how he feels about things and what to do about that, how to cope, etc. Which is why he tends to ignore problems (ex: when Echo was gone in season 2). Because even if he can recognize he’s upset about something, he can’t really process it in more detail than that. This causes some issues given that he’s a clone and is regularly forced to experience very very dangerous situations with the very very real threat of death breathing down his neck. That’s emotionally and physically devastating. But those scenarios also have a very dramatic effect on the brain in the sense that pivoting SO DRAMATICALLY so quickly from a mindset of urgent survival, "holy shit i am about to die get it together i have to live i have to live" to the overwhelming and ecstatic relief of actually surviving creates a mental sensation not unlike orgasm. And then, pairing that chemical high with the fresh sensation of pain from the injuries he sustained during the survival period creates a deep association of extreme pain with extreme pleasure, even if it is in a twisted context. As an autistic person with similar alexithymia (emotional blindness) to Tech, I can DEFINITELY see him processing those sensations in a sexual way. His emotions would be way easier to recognize and interact with if they’re associated with the distinctive, familiar emotion of sexual arousal.

Of course, those intense scenarios are a very prominent part of his life, and I think as he gets older there comes a stronger divide between the painful, high-risk scenarios he experiences for work and the painful, high-risk scenarios he puts himself in deliberately for sexual pleasure. But I think a significant reason he chooses to put himself in those situations is that, if he’s regularly experiencing that level of fear, pain, and release voluntarily, it makes it a lot easier to handle those things when he’s forced to experience them outside of his own volition.

I want to be clear that I think his enjoyment of masochism is a very sensory focused thing that has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with sub/dom dynamics, in fact I think he is specifically not into that sort of thing. I also think his masochism has nothing to do with underlying self-hatred or any sense of “deserving” it. It is PURELY because he likes the sensation of pain and gets off to it. That’s a big part of what I mean when I say his experience of sex is fundamentally autistic. I also think that in general, he’s just not really that into other people. Like, he is willing to have sex with other people, but mostly just because there’s certain things that he can’t really do to himself, whether due to physical or psychological barriers, or just that the safety risk involved in hurting yourself really bad often necessitates another person’s presence in case he passes out or something. What he considers sex/sexual activity is mostly stuff that is barely, if at all, recognizable as sex in the typical definition. This is why I think his experience of sex is also fundamentally aroace.

To get back to the Crash thing. I do think that broadly he is just simply into the idea of danger to a really strong degree, and that can be sort of anything. But he already knows a lot about and has a lot of experience with vehicles, and I think that pushing their abilities and his skills to the absolute brink is gratifying to him both in an experimental way and in a sexual way. He also has the conceptualization to understand the inherent sexiness of metal, cars, etc. even if he is not sexually attracted to the cars themselves. So yeah, he’s getting into crashes. He’s not into it in the same way they are in Crash, where the end-goal/ULTIMATE release is death; as I said this is all a very primal sensory thing for him and he is not into the idea of near-death so much as he is into the rush of endorphins that he experiences while in those situations. While his thing is very high-risk, he is careful about protecting the most important/vulnerable parts of his body and making sure things are set up in a way such that he can hurt a lot without being in too much actual danger of death/infection. However, I do think that when he was younger he took more risks and did some crazy shit that he should NOT have done but calmed down and became more careful as he got older. He probably has the most elaborate and frightening collection of scars. The Crash thing is also why he handles the fractured femur with such ease.

Additionally this part of why TechPhee does not work, at least for me. She could try to figure out how to flirt with him for months and he wouldn’t realize, then she’d finally just ask him out and by the time they hit the bedroom he is like “I need you to hurt me so bad I’m seeing stars in order to get off” and she’d be like "you know what this is not worth it I think we should just be friends". Any apparent mutual interest in each other would just be like, Phee thinking “His eyes are so beautiful I think I want to make love to him” and Tech thinking “she is pretty I wonder if she’d be willing to carve holes into my thighs” or something

[kalixora]

“I’m death. Straight up.”

Gaz x reader (Kinda🦭)

. Uhhh surprise?

INSPIRATION: Puss in Boots: The Last Wish

I watched the movie again...

Codename: Death

“Task 141. The dangerous ones without guns, a secret force that hides in the shadows and takes down enemies far and wide… and yet here we are, like a cat on its last life.”

Price narrowed his gaze, taking in your presence was one thing. But speaking with you directly was a different matter entirely; it was like being in the presence of death itself.

And what you were / are Death. When it was to your advantage, you were cold, cruel, brutal, and at times empathetic. You were frequently kept under close observation since you had a reputation for making a statement, but that didn't deter you.

"Do you find this amusing?" Price inquired sternly.

“Very,” you mused.

“Why’s that?”

“Because, your standing in here with me alone with no backup.”

Price hummed, crossing his arms, a powerful bodily movement he knew wouldn't bother you, but he needed to get control of the situation. You were both aware that you had the overwhelming advantage, as you always did. This was body language to catch your attention, and you enjoyed a good test.

"Captain, why are you here?" You chuckled. "I can't imagine the strings you pulled to stand in a room with me; are you sure you don't want to smoke one of those cigars?"

“No,” Price leaned to the side and took out a little piece of paper and a pen. He set it on the table and slid it halfway to you. You took the paper and read it as you looked at him, mystified. Your sneer, on the other hand, never wavered. As you tap the pen against the table, a small chuckle escapes your lips.

“What’s this a permission slip?”

“You could say that, yes.”

You hummed as you leaned back in your chair, your gaze scanning the Captain's face, which was solemn. Without a doubt, serious.

"I'm flattered, believe me, but why me? You have Ghost don't you? Say how is Simon doing? Is he behaving himself? And how is Kyle? Still attractive?"

Price nods, “They’re fine.”

“Mmmm, so what’s the problem captain? Tired of your life flashing before your eyes?”

“Then I wouldn’t be good at my job, so here’s the deal- I want you to join my task force, your a powerhouse and from I’ve gathered a lone wolf, even lone wolves stray from packs yeah?”

“Correct.”

“I think it’s time we put that line wolf back with a pack, what do ya say?”

You began to snicker, “That was a cheesy analogy Price but, not to shabby, let me explain something to you, a wolf who distances themselves from the world is called a traitor but one who stays is called a deceiver.”

“That so? There’s a fine line between right and wrong, if the wolf becomes a deceiver and a traitor what do you make of the pack…”

“They meet death.”

“I see… so then do we all know death?”

“Only when it comes to you,” you say with the tilt of your head. “Even the strongest of us Captain will always live a life of fear.”

Price stood up and walked out of the room, where Kate stood on the other side. Price let out a rough sigh and shook his head, one more minute with you in there and it was a wrap. He lost.

“Well,” Kate hummed, “what they say?”

“Bloody bastard didn’t give an answer…”

“I told you.”

“I know…”

“They’ll come.”

Price turned to Laswell his expression was unreadable but she could tell he was irritated. “What makes you so sure?”

“Known Death for a long time, shows up when your in distress… don’t worry to much captain, they’ll show.”

…

The mission has gone to complete shit, Price didn’t know if this was a set up from the get go. Gaz had gone missing and Soap managed to tackle someone out the window and got shot at the same time. Ghost tried to contact Gaz for at least thirty minutes now but the only thing he got back was static. Price searched high and low but each trail of blood he followed they all lead to different bodies, but never Gaz.

Soap: Price how copy?

Price: Copy, report?

Soap: No sign of Gaz, just different bodies

Ghost: He may be unconscious somewhere

Price: That means we have a chance, cover more ground under.

Soap leaned against the wall getting ready to shoot the target unaware of everything about to unfold. He found Gaz the second Price said those words, Gaz was unconscious like Ghost said but, he wasn’t alone.

There was someone else nearby, and they were whistling?

Soap cringed slightly at the tone of the whistle it sounded creepy and off putting yet fascinating. The whistle came closer as Soap peered around the corner seeing the person standing directly over Gaz, Soap placed his finger in the trigger of his gun aiming at them.

“Relax comrade.”

Soap stepped out of his corner fully seeing that you had a blade directly in front of Gaz’s face inches away from inserting it.

“Excuse you?”

“I’m one of you,” you chuckle before standing up fully, you held eye contact with Soap as you got closer to him, “Go on, pick him up.”

Soap stared at you unsure, he wanted to call Price or Ghost, you stood on the side of him now glaring at him. “Pick. Him. Up.”

Soap kept an eye on you while moving quickly towards Gaz, he checked his pulse then began to lift him up placing his arm over his shoulder before turning back to you. You were gone. Without a sound.

Soap managed his way with Gaz and finally reaching it to the others and setting course for base. Soap didn’t say anything the whole ride over, his mind was racing of the thoughts of you, who were you? What were you? What did you mean one of them?

Once landed they all made way to see Laswell, where she stood outside her door waiting for them with a file in her hand. “How’s he doing?”

“Alright, doctor says he should be awake within the next hour or so,” Price answered he tone sounding relieved.

“Something the matter Johnny?” Ghost asked as the two began to head over to see Gaz in the infirmary.

“I don’t know how to explain it, it was so- bloody weird,” Soap says through his confusion. “Did Price mention having a new recruit?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Ghost hummed.

Ghost opened the door to the infirmary stopping as he stared inside, Soap peered in the room seeing you again. Right by Gaz’s side. You had your hand on his forehead and you were whispering something to him. In which Gaz began to react to it, his chest moved up and down as if he was chuckling, and he was. His eye fluttering open being met with your piercing gaze.

“Y/N…” Gaz muttered giving you a small smile.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty, how are feeling?” You say as you look up at Ghost and Soap entering the room. You waved at the two of them, “Ah there you two are, was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

“Y/N…” Ghost said almost in disbelief.

“Simon,” you greeted with a smile. “You’ve seen better days.”

“Are you the new recruit?” Ghost asked.

“That I am,” you replied. “Soap right?” You said fixing your gaze on him.

Soap nods, “Bloody hell are ya?”

“ Death.”

“Death?” Soap chuckles, “As in what?”

“Not any other fancy way, I’m Death straight up.”

[bucks-daddy-issues]

🫴 🫴 🫴 🫴

Hello! I got six anon asks for all of my wips and I'm gonna hope/assume they're all from you and put them all in one post.

Hope you enjoy, thank you!!!

😳 Down Bad Eddie (NSFW)

-

Buck is so keen, he’s smiling so big but there isn’t a trace of mocking in his tone. He’s happy, and he’s playful and he’s more radiant than the fucking sun. Eddie almost feels like he shouldn’t be looking directly at him, so beautiful he’ll make Eddie go blind.

Eddie feels dizzy, his chest is a little tight and he’s not sure if it’s for good or bad reasons. Buck is so pretty, so warm and Eddie's breath is-

“Can we- pause for a minute?” Eddie grits out, and immediately Buck steps back, hands dragging up slow until they’re on Eddie’s shoulders instead of his waist. 

“Of course, of course Eddie. You okay?” Buck says, eyes searching, as blue as the ocean in holiday brochures.

“I’m amazing, I just… this is a little overwhelming.”

“Overwhelming… good?” Buck asks, God he’s so earnest Eddie wants to shove him into a wall and bite. 

“Very, very good.” Eddie beams. “But this is a little new, could we…?”

“Slow down, yes, yeah, we should slow down. We got a lot to talk about.” Buck smiles back.

Then Buck is stepping away, moving to the kitchen to start up the coffee maker.

-

🔫 Hitman's Bodyguard AU

-

“I think we can-“ 

There’s a noise, Buck knows there must have been because his ears are ringing. There’s a noise. His face is wet. There’s blood in his mouth. Eddie is looking at him, reaching out but the whole world is encased in freezing cold, solid ice and Buck must need it to melt before he can move again. 

A red spot slowly blooms and grows on Eddie’s shoulder, red, red, red. Eddie’s hand is reaching, his eyes pleading. 

Buck can’t move. 

The moment Eddie drops to the ground Buck can move again, and he realises that that eternity watching the pain cloud out the life in Eddie’s eyes must have only been a second because he jumps for cover a moment before another bullet hits the wall he’d been leaning against. 

Eddie’s still out in the open, but whoever’s shooting doesn’t seem too concerned about finishing him off - thank god - whoever it is, they're going for Buck, they just needed Eddie out of the way. 

A bullet hits their car. Buck’s heart is beating in his skull. His throat feels like it's shut tight but somehow he’s still panting. 

Another bullet. This one nicks the gas tank, oil leaks out into the road.

Buck has seconds. One good shot and the car blows, one decent one and a fire will start. 

Behind them is a 30-foot drop into a roaring water. Buck has no idea how deep, but he knows jumping will mean either breaking his legs or going under. 

For the first time in his life, he’s praying he’ll feel water above his head. 

-

👻 Ghost hunter AU

-

“You want us to what?” Buck flinches.

“It’s just for one night Buck, it’ll be fine.” Hen says, and this time Eddie is the one who flinches, he already knows what Buck’s reaction will be.

“It’s just one night in a haunted building, Hen!” Buck yells, eyes wide in fear. “If you’re so sure no one will won’t get murdered or possessed or like- scared to death, then you do it!”

Hen smirks, “Sorry Buckaroo, I’m not the one with their face on all the merch, looks like it’s just you and Eddie braving the demons and ghosts.”

“There’s no demons!” Eddie steps in, glaring at Hen and Chimney’s smug grins. “The building has one single ghost sighting, one ghost, no demons, no poltergeists and no malicious spirits, just one friendly ghost.”

“You don’t even believe in ghosts.” Chimney remarks,

“One ghost that we know of, Eds.” Buck mumbles “What if there’s something else in there. Something hiding until it’s got us at our most vulnerable.

Buck makes himself shiver, Eddie scoots closer to drop a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to scope it out first, we’ll try everything we have to catch any paranormal activity and if you don’t want to stay after that-” Eddie sends Bobby a look, there’s no question in it, but Bobby nods anyway, “-then we wont stay, okay?”

Buck leans further into Eddie’s space, his eyes are big and scared but keeps looking at Eddie anyway, seeking comfort. “Okay” he finally agrees. “But you’re sleeping closest to the door.”

-

💍 Romcom AU

-

Buck finds Eddie by the fountain, clicking through pictures on his camera. 

“You okay?” Buck asks, sitting down next to him.

Eddie flicks his head up in surprise, somehow he must have missed Buck’s arrival. “Oh yeah.” He mumbles, looking back at his camera. On it there’s a photo of Maddie, Chimney and Jee-Yun with big, cheesy grins, it looks amazing, one to be framed. Buck can’t wait to see all the rest. “Don't let me keep you from the party, I promise I’ll be back to take more photos soon, just needed a little break.”

“Of course, take your time. I’m gonna take a break too, if that’s okay.” Buck smiles, he glances down at the rippling water in the fountain. There are no coins in it, but Buck still wants to throw one in and make a wish.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, nudging Buck with his knee.

“I asked you first,” Buck replies, nudging back.

Eddie harrumphs but after a moment he drops his shoulders and speaks “I miss my wife. Or I guess I miss this.” He gestures to the happy photo on his camera screen. “Though I’m not sure we ever had all that, can you miss something you’ve never had?”

Buck stares for a minute, maybe a little too long. “Oh yeah. All the time.” 

“You too?” Eddie asks, his smile pained.

“Well I don’t have a wife to miss, but yes, I miss what Maddie and Chimney have. I’ve never told anyone and I feel awful about it, but I’m super jealous of them.”

“Me too. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, just-“ Eddie puts the camera down, leaning forward to stare into the water. “It’s hard sometimes, to be stuck with just hope.”

Buck reaches into his pocket to grab his wallet. He finds a few coins in the bottom and hands one to Eddie. “I don’t think wishing is much better than hoping, but hey, maybe they accumulate.”

-

🥂 Hangover AU

-

“Coffee?” Bobby asks, holding out the menu. 

“Strong enough to chew please” Eddie groans, flattening his head on the cool metal of the poolside tables. It's way too warm. 

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Hen grimaces “Never say that again.” 

“Get her coffee too.” Chimney adds as Bobby gets the waiter's attention. 

“What’s the last thing anyone remembers?” Buck asks. 

“I left you guys after dinner, you were all pretty sober, maybe two or three drinks each,” Bobby says once he’s ordered Hen and Eddie espresso, Bucks stomach feels queasy at the thought of drinking that.

“Okay, I can remember dinner, then we went to that club Albert booked, it was named after some jewel, aquamarine or something?”

“The amethyst and it was a casino too.” Chimney supplies, sighing heavily. 

“I hate Vegas.” Eddie groans “We should check our bank accounts.”

“Oh, That’s a good idea! We can look at all the transactions from last night and see where we went!” Buck says just a little too loud for even his own ears, he gulps the water sitting in front of him, thank you, Bobby. 

“Right, empty your pockets too, we’re all still wearing our clothes from last night, right?” Chim adds, patting his blazer

Buck and Eddie reply in the affirmative, feeling grubby. 

“Hell no, the first thing I did was change my clothes” Hen grimaces. 

“You guys should really change,” Bobby adds, but he at least looks invested in helping, Buck can tell he’s in captain mode just by his facial expression.

“Well some of us weren’t given the chance” Eddie replies pointedly.

“Later!” Chim says “C’mon, does anyone have anything?” 

Buck searches through his pockets surveying the contents as they’re placed on the table, his phone - dead, a McDonald’s receipt, keys, wallet, Albert’s phone, a business card… 

Wait 

“Oh fuck!” Buck shouts, lifting the phone back up, “This is Al’s” 

Chimney snatches it from him “Why do you have my brother’s phone?”

“I don’t know!” 

“Why do you have a business card for a tattoo parlour a couple blocks from here?” Eddie asks, lifting the card. Buck glances at it, vaguely remembering talking to a tattoo artist as she- 

“Ah, that’s why my hip is sore.” 

-

🫴 Your Touch Is All I Need (NSFW)

-

The next day at work that tenseness comes back to haunt him. 

He should have found some time to jerk off quickly, he probably could have in the shower if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with his own failure and embarrassment, but he didn’t and now the entire 24-hour shift is going about as smooth as a hacksaw.

He’s on edge and Buck must be able to tell because he’s trailing behind Eddie like a lost puppy and it’s making Eddie feel even worse. He knows Buck thinks he did something wrong, and he’s so ashamed he’s hurting Buck, but he can’t seem to look the other man in the eye. He can barely handle when they’re on the way to a call and Buck’s thigh is pressed up hard against his own. It’s Buck’s way of giving him some silent reassurance, so he nudges back and tries to train his eyes away from where that line of heat is pressing up against him. Buck’s thick thighs have been in enough of his dreams without more fodder. 

When they arrive on the scene Eddie could laugh - he won’t because that would be so rude and completely misinterpreted - but when he finds out a woman has had an unfortunate sexual incident while using a toy, somehow kicking her boyfriend in the face and causing a broken nose, well, Eddie laughs internally about how maybe the universe does scream sometimes.

Hen is helping the woman, while Eddie is looking over the man, the bleeding is nearly stopped and he should be fine once he gets to hospital, but Eddie pays him as much attention as he can so he doesn’t have to think about the vibrator sitting on the floor near his knee. 

When they finally get them sorted, the man on his way to the hospital with his girlfriend holding his hand, the team huddle back into the fire engine, and Eddie is sure they’re all thinking the same thing.

“Well… She must have been having a good time” Chim says, and that’s all it takes for them all to burst into a fit of giggles.

“Come on guys, a little more professional” Bobby says, but he’s grinning too, his face bright pink.

“Hey, I’ve been there!” Buck laughs “I think I broke the poor guy's ribs but I like to think it was worth it.” Everyone laughs again.

Wait. What the fuck.

No one is batting an eye. Buck just admitted to using a toy on himself with another man, and no one is batting an eye. 

Did they all know? Was Eddie meant to know? How did he somehow miss this? Is…is Buck gay or bi or pan or something along those lines?

Has he been openly into men this whole time?

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Corrupted, chapter 23: Getting Real - a TMA x Malevolent crossover

So, here they are: facing fear-gods, and a fucked-up eater of fear-gods, and a weird Welsh heritage, and a death sentence from the devil incarnate, and… they’re flirting about it.

He likes it.

He likes Hastur.

Oh. Oh, he's in over his head.

Corrupted, a TMA x Malevolent crossover featuring Tim Stoker and the King in Yellow, chapter 23.

AO3

-----------------

One of the challenges of an emotional eruption is the tendency to feel stupid after.

Objectively, Tim knows he’s not being stupid. He’s comforted loads of people (drunk and otherwise) who felt overwhelmed and out of control, and he’s aware nobody blames him, or thinks he’s overreacting.

Jon gets him tea. It’s pointless and silly and Tim feels so… moved.

Myrddin just lets him cry it out by walking away and giving him space. Again, Tim is moved; he wanted the space, but was uncomfortable asking for it.

Elias calls back. Yeah, no. Tim doesn’t answer that.

Tim. Tim, breathe.

Tim thinks that's an excellent idea. “I need some air,” he says, sounding nose-stuffed and weary.

“Is that… safe?” says Jon.

“My gut says yes, as long as I don’t go too far, I think.”

“Well, then by all means, don’t do that,” says Jon imperiously.

Tim quashes the urge to put Jon in his pocket and smiles instead. “I won’t. Thanks.” And not remotely in the mood for searching for a door, he climbs right through an open window and away.

#

The ocean goes on forever. He can’t even see the gray horizon-line out there in the fog.

He knows Wales is over there, but weather doesn’t permit visual confirmation, and all he can see is mist and wave and sky. It’s a weirdly lonely feeling. If not for the tower right behind them, it would easily feel like they were abandoned at the edge of the world.

Simon Fairchild, he thinks, would love the view. Then he remembers Junior’s thumb mutating the horizon for a moment, and he sways, dizzy.

Are you all right?

“Super,” says Tim, leaning on his thighs and taking a minute to breathe deeply.

Hastur sounds subdued. I'm sorry, Tim.

"You pronounced those pretty good without practice," says Tim, knowing he isn't making a ton of sense.

Hastur ignores the quip. All of this is so much to ask of a human. I'm sorry.

Tim stands. Swallows. He faces the fact that a god just apologized to him—and a narcissistic, dramatic, ridiculous god, at that. Then Tim faces the fact that if he has to stand up to horrible monsters and impossible magic, he doesn't want to do it alone.

No, it's not that he doesn't want to do it alone. He wants to do it with Hastur.

More than with Danny. More than with any friend. He wants to be with Hastur through this, and he is absolutely not ready to analyze that. “I appreciate that." It's too close, too vulnerable, too real, and Tim jukes left of subject. "All this isn't how I thought my life would end, that’s for certain.”

Tim… it isn’t ending. Not for sure. There may yet be a way to save you.

Tim scoffs. “Don’t you mean us? You better mean us.”

You will have the greatest story ever told when this is through. I expect you to elaborate on my greatness.

Oh, no, Hastur didn't mean us. “Well, sure. Gonna sell the rights to Bollywood, and live off the inevitable franchise money that comes from it.”

Why Bollywood?

“Because any film of my life needs to have gaudy fun, charisma, a good sense of humor, and some baller dancing."

Hastur laughs softly. Ah… I do like you, Tim.

There’s no regret in that statement anymore. There’s an eagerness, an expectation, a focus so intense it has weight. Of course, Tim goes with it. “Kind of impossible not to imagine degenerate things when you talk like that.”

If this works, you won’t have to imagine them anymore.

Hoo, boy. So, here they are: facing fear-gods, and a fucked-up eater of fear-gods, and a weird Welsh heritage, and a death sentence from the devil incarnate, and… they’re flirting about it.

He likes it.

He likes Hastur.

Oh. Oh, he's in over his head. Oh, this is a lot. Tim swallows. "Why didn’t you say ‘us,’ Hastur?"

I’m resigned, Hastur says.

“Resigned?” Tim tries to keep it light. “To what, Bollywood?”

I’ve had a really good run—far longer than I should—thanks to raw luck.

Tim clenches his fist. “Excuse me? You're quitting?”

Don't misunderstand. I'm saying I’ve decided if I have to die because of meeting you, then… the scales balance. That’s all.

Tim stops walking.

Water whispers against the shore, steady and patient. A bird of some kind screams overhead, unseen. The smell of baked bread wafts from the tower, luring. Tim swallows. “That’s a really big thing to say, Hastur.”

I’m aware.

Tim is shaking (because it's cold, he tells himself). “First off, no, I do not approve of you accepting death. Not allowed. Practically an HSE violation. Second, that’s… not something you want to joke around with. For any reason.”

I’m aware.

Tim shakes. He nudges a loose rock with his foot. He could walk the whole island in a few hours; see the weird churchyard where (supposedly) 20,000 saints were laid to rest. See the weird apples unlike any other in the world, immune to blight. See the lighthouse. He doesn’t move. “You’re telling the truth?”

I am.

Tim’s mouth is dry.

Don’t feel like you have to respond. I didn’t say it to get a response. I… just felt it should be said.

But that's such a big thing to say. “Hey. I have a question.”

Ask.

“Why didn’t I lose another body-part after we beamed ourselves here?” Tom says, following a gut instinct.

I chose not to take it.

Tim inhales slowly. “You could’ve before?”

I’m not sure. In both other cases, I was straining for independence, we were in the middle of something wild, and I just found myself with your eye, and your hand. This time… maybe because I had control of your body, briefly, I could feel a… Hastur considers. Like a breeze from an entryway you didn’t know was there. I knew I could follow it and something would happen. I chose not to.

Tim feels pale. Hastur means it. This thing Hastur said… he means it. “Why do the scales balance, Hastur?”

Silence.

“I’m just… that’s a really big thing to say.”

I'm aware.

Tim knows how he’d take a statement like that from a human. He knows what it would mean, emotionally. It sounds like love. 

On the other hand, it's coming from a narcissistic god in hiding who’s facing death by digestion or death by Cthulhu’s great-grand-uncle, all while trapped in a mortal body, and given this, Tim has no idea what it means.

Whatever it really means, it’s a vulnerable statement, and deserves a response. “I…”

Shhh. You don’t have to answer me. I’ve been around a long time and had many lovers, and I know what I said. I didn’t say that to obligate you. I just wanted you to know.

Holy shit. Holy shit. “We're not lovers, though.”

What a strange thing to say to the god seated deep inside you.

Tom chokes a laugh. “What the hell, Hastur? Foul beast. Get thee behind me.”

Oh, I’ll get behind you, all right.

Tim laughs again, and Hastur laughs, too—a deep and quiet sound that buzzes under Tim’s skin in places that shouldn't be possible with disembodied vocal cords, but does anyway.

Damn. They're really doing this. When had the goofy flirting become real?

It is real. This is real.

It's never been real for Tim before. It's worse than fear-gods, worse than some psycho cannibal chomping his way through history. This is real.

Spooked, Tim tries to make it silly again. “Many lovers, eh? How many of those lovers knew who and what you are?”

Hastur huffs. What does that have to do with anything?

Tim grins. “Just wondering what kind of skill level I’m going to be dealing with. You could be like the CEO who thinks he’s funny because his employees all laugh at his jokes.”

Ha! They enjoyed it. I’ll have you know there is no lover like me anywhere in the world.

“That’s not necessarily a positive,” Tim quips, because that was an opening. “And I’m sure they all told you that, right? Notarized and sealed in wax, or something.”

The responses I create cannot be faked.

Tim laughs again. This game is fun. “As far as you know, anyway. Seems to me you’d need a lover who doesn't, you know, worship you to get an honest opinion.”

Are you offering? says Hastur, all honey and whiskey and incorrigible god.

(This became real when did this become real—)

Tim folds his hands behind his back. “Just making an observation.”

Well. I'm glad I could— Hastur stops.

They both feel the change. It’s like a cold breeze, but cruel, moving with intent, and Tim spins toward the horizon. There: a darkness forming in the mist, large, growing, taking so long to resolve into a recognizable shape that the fear of it surges over them, making Tim shockingly aware yet again of how isolated he is on this beach right now, out of sight of land, away from everyone and everything he’s ever known in his life, and—

Hastur’s hand pinches his bicep hard enough to bruise.

“Ow!”

Focus. I'm here. You're not alone. He can’t make us alone.

Of course. Lukas.

Somehow, when Elias said “ship,” this image had not come to mind. It moors in the distance, and its details do not come clear. It is a ghost, a phantom, a rusted and silent hulk in the gloom like nothing else remains in all the world. “Fuck me,” Tim whispers.

I think we’d best go back inside.

“Yeah,” waits Tim weakly. “Hey. Is it okay if I run?”

What do we have to lose?

That was Hasturian for let’s fucking book it, and without another word, Tim turns and bolts.

#

Myrddin seems to dislike having Peter Lukas’ ship in sight of his home. He stands at the window, squishing a slice of bread into a little ball, considering.

“Kinda need that ship,” says Tim, “in case you were, you know, thinking of scuttling it, or something. I don’t fancy trying to portal myself to wherever we’re going.”

“Mm,” Myrddin says.

“I mean, unless you have another way to get there,” says Tim.

“Oh, I do,” says Myrddin, “but I’d rather eat my own foot than go near the destination, to be perfectly honest. Not my cup of tea.” He shivers.

Well, if the wizard’s being that dramatic, then it can’t be that serious. “Not that we both don't know this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I’ve got a promise to keep.”

“And many miles before you sleep?” prompts Myrddin.

“These woods don't quite have the lovely part down.”

“Dark and deep, though,” Myrddin says.

“You're not wrong.”

Beside them, Jon shivers, staring out the window.

Tim wonders if he sees something they don’t. “Maybe it’s a better idea if you stay behind.”

“No,” says Jon.

He’s using you somehow, little priest, says Hastur. Elias is doing something. You’re walking right into it.

“I don't care,” Jon snaps. “I have to… I can't… you don’t understand.”

“So help me do that?” says Tim, all too aware that a spooky lifeboat with a spooky shape that’s probably Lukas in the bow is coming their way. “Because right now, I'm seeing you taking a big risk, popping along with me, and I don’t have a reason why.”

Jon sighs. “Look. I don’t know what Elias’ role in this is, but I'm not doing any of it for him. You don’t understand. I need to know. I need to. I need see the truth with my own eyes.”

“Right, but why?” Tim frowns. “You’re not telling me something.”

Jon looks positively caught. “I am not.”

“Yeah, that’s a double-negative, boss, so you just admitted you are,” says Tim, just to be a contrary.

Jon reddens. “I swear on my honor I will swim after the blasted boat if you try to leave me behind.”

Tim is not laughing. Nope. Not at all. “You got a lot of practice swimming?”

Jon is too skinny to do a puffy kitten impression, but he manages, anyway. “I grew up in Bournemouth. I’ll have you know I am an adequate swimmer.”

Hastur laughs. Adequate!

“Perfectly satisfactory!” says Jon.

“All right, all right,” says Tim, raising his hands. “You can come on the scary ghost ship. On your head be it if it’s properly spooky and answers nothing.”

“I’m not—” John begins, and then comes a knock at the door.

Myrddin takes Tim’s hand. “I'm glad to have met you," he says. "Don’t die, hm? We can talk when you get…” And he pauses. Blinks. “Oh, my,” he says, and turns away.

“When I what?” Tim blurts. “Get back? Why would you interrupt that?”

Myrddin opens the door instead of replying. A man stands there, and he is not Peter Lukas. He is short, heavyset, with a thick, black beard and dark skin made darker by the sun. He wears a nondescript pea coat, and around his neck hangs the unique, trumpet-like shape of a boatswain’s whistle.

That whistle gives Tim the heebie-jeebies. A whistle has never given him the heebie-jeebies before.

“Well, well, well,” says Myrddin. “Tadeus. That’s where you disappeared to?”

And the man, the boatswain judging by his whistle, looks through Myrddin like the wizard isn’t there, and tilts his head toward Tim in the barest acknowledgment.

Tim feels like his eyes are very wide. "Okay, sure. Yeah, let's go."

Myrddin touches his shoulder. "Good luck," he says softly. "I think you’ll be glad in the end you made the choices you did. Yes. You will.” And he tucks something into Tim’s pocket and pushes him toward the door.

The guy—Dahl, apparently—has already turned, walking back towards that tiny boat.

Jon gulps audibly. “Thank you for your hospitality, sir.”

“Of course, of course,” says Murddin with great and sudden cheer. “We’ll talk more when you get back.”

“When he gets back?” squawks Tim, but he already knows he won’t get an answer.

Dahl isn't waiting. They both hurry after.

Myrrdin stands in the door, smiling, waving a handkerchief like a black-and-white recording of some old-timey embarkation.

Tim shakes his head. “This might as well happen,” he murmurs.

That’s an amusing reaction to horror.

“Sort of logical, really,” says Tim, hunching his shoulders against the sudden cold as he follows this Dahl. “It’s really one of those days, you know? Not much we can do about it. So this might as well happen.”

His left hand shifts slightly out of his pocket and strokes his stomach. Pragmatic. But you're not doing it alone.

Tim swallows.

Jon jogs at his heels, too close, already spooked and shit at hiding it.

They wouldn't get anything out of drowning us, would they? Tim thinks, trying not to add to the spookification.

Only Elias’s displeasure, probably, says Hastur.

“What?” says Jon. “What displeasure?”

Tim forgot Jon could hear Hastur now. “Oh. They won’t do anything nefarious to us, is all I'm saying.”

Jon looks a little pale. “Only if we actually die. There are a lot of things they could do that don't involve death."

Tim makes a face. “Well, sure, if you want to get ridiculously technical, sure.”

You can still back out, little priest.

“Look, will you just call me Jon, please?” Jon snaps. “It's my blasted name.”

Hastur chuckles. As you wish. Jon. He does something to the name, makes it intimate, magical, maybe even a little invasive.

Jon trips.

“Hastur,” chides Tim, steadying him.

What? He wants me to use his name! Names are intimate.

Tim rolls his eyes. “Sorry. Some people can't behave, apparently.”

“Fine,” mutters Jon. “It’s fine. I asked.”

Don’t go making me jealous, now, Tim thinks, still chiding.

Don’t give me reason to, says Hastur.

So.

Tim thinks two things as they follow the silent Dahl onto the rowboat. One, he's right, and their relationship is changed. It is real. Serious. They both feel it, and they really need to talk out some boundaries ASAP.

Two (speaking of boundaries), Hastur is apparently jealous of Jon?

Why?

Well. That would be one of the things they discuss. Soon.

Dahl is strong. He kicks them off the rocky shore and hops in, weirdly graceful, and begins rowing them toward that distant dark shape.

But Tim knows what he saw before. The boat moved itself. Dahl is doing this for show, and Tim can’t imagine why. Though come to think of it, there’s a weird isolation to sitting in a boat, silent, rowed by a man a;sp sitting in silence, who ignores them as completely as if they didn't exist.

[tatortart]

for the shipping ask game! leo/gordy: 6 and 13, for mikey/moriko: 9 and 17; for either one: 7!

Answers under the cut!

6. What do they call each other?

Gordy calls Leo “hero” as a joke at first, but it sort of sticks towards the end. He also likes to call him Nardo when he’s feeling like a brat. Leo calls him Gordy when they first meet, but as their relationship grows, he eases into Go-kun.

When Gordy irritates Leo, it’s nothing but Gordon, all the way through. :) Gordy fuckin’ hates it.

13. First to confess their feelings and how?

Answered!

9. Beach day - who collects shells, who gets buried, who starts a splash war, who brought the snacks and sunscreen?

Moriko and Mikey both bring snacks! She goes hunting for sea shells while he drags Takumi into the water for some step-dad/son bonding time. Towards the end of the day, they’re all napping together underneath the beach umbrella. Mini turtle pile in the sand!

17. Favorite movie to watch together?

So at first, Moriko is willing to follow Mikey’s example when it comes to what movie to watch. But as she gets used to the cultural landscape and finds what films really catch her eye, she falls in love with Guillermo del Toro’s work. Which thrills Mikey to death—he knows she’s no big horror buff, but del Toro’s films are that perfect blend for them both to enjoy. Just a bit of horror, a bit of romance, a bit of weird. The Hellboy movies are their go to when they want to watch something together.

Moriko still makes her argument for The Shape of Water every time tho.

7. What’s something they’re afraid to tell each other?

Less of what to tell each other and more of what to ask each other, which…says a lot about what they really want to get to the root of. Leo wants to ask if Gordy’s happy being a mutant. Being with him, being nothing like what he used to be. And Gordy wants to ask Leo what the hell does he even see in him? Both are plagued with their own self doubts and that lovely little voice of “am I really good enough?”

They’re both afraid that in the end, neither will be enough for the other. That they won’t measure up.

As for Mikey and Moriko…Mikey’s scared shitless of admitting that the whole step-dad deal kinda wigs him out. Because he knows Moriko and Takumi are a package deal! And he loves the li’l guy, he thinks Takumi is a riot. But step-dad…that’s a big move. He’s gonna be responsible for a little life, a kid that actively looks up to him. That’s a whole lot different than the cat dad title he proudly wears!

Moriko, on the other hand? It’s her fear she’s afraid of sharing with Mikey. So much of this new world scares her and he’s so eager to share it with her. She doesn’t want to jeopardize what they’re building together, but so much of what he shows her leaves her wanting to find the deepest, darkest hole and bury her screams in there. She’s overwhelmed! Everything is so much at once and she doesn’t want to seem a dud by asking him to maybe take things down a notch or two.

[leviathansshadycorner]

Hi! I just wanted to say that I love the Cato series!! It’s so good and I’m so exited for the next part! <33

Rope Him In ( Cato x District 10! Reader x slight! Marvel) Pt. 5

Summary: (Y/n) begins training.

A/n: Thank you for the support!!!! I love y'all!! Sorry for the wait lol life has been hard. Sorry for any typos or OOC moments. Again thank you so much for the support it means the world to me especially right now.

Pt.4 Pt.3 Pt.2 Pt.1

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Chapter 5: Training pt. 1

“Do you think they’ll have us fight against each other?” Buckley’s voice interrupted your intense glaring to the careers waking up ahead to the training center. 

“Probably not, they’re already making us do that anyway.” You reminded him, scratching the back of your neck since the fabric of the training uniform had a tag that had not been cut off. 

All of the tributes were lined up in pairs. Peacekeepers decorated the walls of the building as they carefully observed the tributes making their way into the arena. The doors leading to the arena were that familiar steel material, and white futuristic lights lit the path towards the center. You could hear the careers boasting about how they couldn’t wait to get their hands on certain weapons, and how much they missed training. It was an odd thing to hear and the non-career districts were visibly confused with their behavior. 

Everyone was lined up in a semicircle, gathering around a lady with two pigtails. She introduced herself as the overseer of the training arena and began to explain the rules. She mentioned how tributes should not only focus on combat but survival skills as well. 

Buckley seemed notably irritated. You had no idea why. Was it something you had said? Deciding to dismiss it, you focused your attention up ahead. Unfortunately for you, all the tributes had to participate in mandatory stations. 

“What should we do?” Buckley asked, his eyes scanning the other tributes as they all dispersed around the training center. Some of the tribute pairs stayed together, following each other around and choosing to train as partners. The rest went on to train individually. It was clear that they either didn’t trust who they came in with, or cared less about them. The careers all huddled around lethal weapons. Quickly it was established that Cato was the leader of the pack. Even Marvel didn’t bother to fight over the role of the leader. 

It was like they had their own private island. All the other tributes steered clear of whichever section of the room they would move to. You and Buckley were still the only ones who hadn’t moved. It was obvious he was hoping to stick together but you couldn’t risk that. You were already a target in the eyes of the career. Not because of your strength, but because you had hurt their leader’s ego during the parade. You’d practically be leading Buckley to his death if he stayed close to you for too long. Then again, you weren’t going to let fear get in your way. 

“Why don’t we stick with each other? That way we can scope out who we have to watch out for.” He nodded, opening his mouth to say something but you cut him off, “Let's start with survival training.” 

There were a variety of stations on the leftmost side of the arena. It was dedicated to building shelters, starting fires, and memorizing edible food. The middle part of the training center was dedicated to more physical training. It was where capitol trainers engaged in hand-to-hand with tributes, reflex tests were, and where obstacles to climb and jump over were placed. The right side was where the careers had set residence. It held a display of weapons and training dummies. It was almost too overwhelming for you. The lights disoriented you and the sounds of clinking metal and forceful grunts overstimulated you a bit too much. The arena was cold. The uniform you had been forced to wear didn’t do as good of a job of keeping you warm. Then again, these were designed to fight against sweat, not the cold. As you attempted to tuck your hands in your arms for warmth, you decided to walk around. You needed to scope out the stations that would serve you use to practice. A couple caught your eye, the fire-making station, rope and knot stations, and the station showing how to properly cook prey. 

Needing to get out of the hecticness of it all, you and Buckley quickly beelined it towards the fire making station. The girl from 12 had previously been there, although she already seemed skilled at it. The two of you sat directly across from each other. The bundle of sticks in the middle had regenerated themselves. The heated ashy remains were now back to firm little twigs. 

“Do you remember what Dolly and Ramsey told us?” You didn’t even need to ask. Of course Buckley remembered.

“Yeah, they told us not to show our strengths.” He replied. “I’m pretty sure that’s what all mentors tell their tributes though.” 

“Well not all of them.” You added, eyes wandering to the spartan soldiers across the room. They weren’t holding back. Each hit they dealt whether it be a punch or a spear to a dummy was filled with pride. It was in fact their way of showing everyone else that they were the future victors. 

“What’s their deal anyways?” Buckley’s hands were rubbing the stick down on a rock to try to ignite it. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, trying to start your own fire now. 

“The careers. They look like they’re ready to kill you and the games haven’t even started.” His eyebrows furrowed out of confusion. 

You didn’t understand him. Surly he had met one of the career’s gazes at some point during your stay so far. “That’s how they look at everybody.” 

“No, it's different with you. It's like- They give you more attention then they do to other people.” He had managed to make the stick smoke. 

“Jealous that they don’t wanna kill you as much as they wanna kill me?” You briefly stopped to look at him with a sarcastic smile. His lips turned into a frown, and you realized he was concerned for you. 

“I think they’re mad I stole their spotlight.” You offered. 

“But that was like a second of time?” Buckley’s tone was in disbelief. “Plus the real star was the girl from 12. No offense.” He quickly put a hand on your shoulder. 

“None taken.” You patted his hand and redirected it back to his task.

“Is that really all? They must have really fragile egos.” He stopped what he was doing, curious as to why they were so petty.

“Well, Cato does. The rest of them are like sheep. They follow him around like that anyways.” You both turned to look at the careers. They were deeply focused. Eventually, they moved onto sparring with the trainers. 

“What are we going to do?” He wondered. He seemed lost. 

“Hope that Thresh takes him out at the start.” It was a morbid thing for you to say, but Cato was a major threat. Especially to you. 

The conversation died out to mundane talk. You both found yourselves homesick even though it hasn’t even been a week.  You wondered how Amaranto was doing. If your father was alright and not ill. If Clarabell was keeping their spirits up or at least trying to. You thought of the smell. Though it may seem unpleasant to the likes of the capitol, it was soothing for you. After years of living there, you’d gotten used to the earthy scent. The capitol smell was overwhelming at times. If it wasn’t sterile and metallic, it was floral and sickeningly sweet. 

As the day went on you and Buckley were getting the hang of things. It seemed like everyone was saving their skills for the arena. The survival section quickly filled up, causing you and a couple of others to switch to the weapons section. Every half hour the tributes would have to regroup and do a series of physical tests assigned by the trainers. The tributes would always go first, wanting to get back to training as soon as possible. It was clear they loved showing off. Even going beyond the one-time requirement and doing the task twice. 

The careers made it their job to criticize every tribute. They stood not at the sidelines- but directly in front of the stations, making it impossible for the tributes to have an ounce of confidence. Sometimes they’d look away, bored at the current subject. They’d give looks of disdain to the ones that showed their capabilities.  Worse of all they’d laugh at the tributes who showed weakness and weren’t capable of making it all the way through. 

It was hard to perform decently when you had eyes glued onto you. Buckley had gone by easily. He struggled a bit with hand to hand combat, but he practically breezed by. He didn’t overdo it however, lucky for him the career pack didn’t look too interested in him. At first they glared at him, probably expecting him to show off, their glares quickly faded and they soon showed no interest at all. When it was your turn you swear you could’ve heard some snarky comment come out of one of their mouths. 

You chose to pay no mind to it. Your palms were uncomfortably sweaty. Your vision was becoming blurred. The constant “Whenever you’re ready.” Weren’t helping. Taking a deep breath in, you went forth. You had to climb your way across some bars, easy in theory. You weren’t the tallest person here, not the shortest either, but the fall seemed detrimental. In fact there had been a previous accident. A boy with dark hair had fallen off the bars and injured his leg. You were concerned for him. Did the Capitol have the technology to cure a broken leg before the games?

The group training ended much to everyone’s pleasure. Buckley was examining the knives. You wondered if he’d give it a go. He was pretty skilled when it came to throwing them. You watched from afar. You yourself were at a station dealing with a fishing line. You’re not sure why it was there hence why you chose it. Buckley was swift with his movements. His fingers let go of the throwing knife and he watched as it glided to its target. The knife barely made it to the center of the dummy’s head, if anything it was lodged in the eye area rather than the forehead, but it was still impressive. 

“Amateur.” Clove insulted. It was loud enough for you to hear, but Buckley was too far to hear it himself. You watched as she resumed her training, Cato being the one to calm her down. She seemed insulted that Buckley was good at her favorite skill. 

Quickly you made your way to your fellow tribute. He seemed impressed by his own skills. “Did ya see that? Right in the eye.” He spoke, his voice proud. 

“Buckley, you’re amazing.” You reassured him. Now that you were next to him you could see how far away the dummy really was. If you were to try there was no guarantee that you’d make it. His strength and past experience with throwing really paid off. 

“Why aren’t you celebrating with me?” He asked playfully once your demeanor shifted from impressed to on survival mode. 

“Clove’s got an eye on you.” You warned him. 

“I can tell.” He processed what you had said. Looking at her direction he was met with her deadly side eye. 

“She seems unstable.” You spoke truthfully. 

“They all do. They are.” He added. “You know, I feel like someone needs to give them a reality check.” 

“What do you mean by that?” His words worried you. 

“I mean we need to show them they’re not the shit.” He said picking up another knife. 

“Buckley!” You grabbed his shoulder and leaned in to whisper and yell at him. “Our mentors specifically told us not to show off.” 

“(Y/n), don’t act like you haven't shown off.” His words hit you like a hurricane. He was right. “Worst they can do is kill us.” He joked as you stepped aside to let him prove himself. 

Your focus shifted from the careers to Buckley as he lifted the throwing knife to give it another shot. In a sense, Buckley was right. The careers really were on their high horse thinking of themselves as unstoppable. It was getting annoying, and you were starting to get fed up as well. Cato already had his eye on you. So clove’s would be next to nothing. 

The thump of wood being penetrated by a knife echoed in your ears as the world froze. The confidence you had a second ago was gone. Time seemed to go by slowly. As if on cue a huff of a laugh came from Marvel. His cheeks round as a smile formed. Buckley had hit a bullseye. 

“Nice job 10.” Marvel shouted from across the room. Sarcasm was in his voice, but you couldn’t tell if he meant it. 

“Done?” You asked Buckley, hoping he’d be finished causing a scene. Clove’s dark eyes filled with rage. It baffled you how seriously she took the whole situation. 

“Oh no, it's your turn now.” He said. Immediately you backed away. 

“I think you’re actually going insane. Do you need me to ask for some medication?” You were snapping back. 

“No. Come on. Try it.” He said, placing his hands on your back as he nudged you towards the table with knives. 

“I’m not good at this. Buckley, If I mess up, they’re going to think I’m weak.” You confided in him. 

“But if you do good they’ll think you're strong.” He countered. “Plus, wouldn’t you rather have them see you weak? Maybe then the meathead will leave you alone.” 

“Your logic makes no sense.” You were about to back out completely when you caught sight of the career pack waiting on your next move. Glimmer gave you a condescending smile. Clove was still focused on Buckley. Both Cato and Marvel were talking, all of them watching you, taunting you. 

“Fine.” You gave in. There was no way you’d give them the satisfaction of rejecting a challenge. You felt like a bull around a red cape around them. They made your blood boil just by existing. The careers had the best lives out of all the other tributes in the game, yet they always liked making people miserable. At times they felt like the enemy. Even though they got here under similar circumstances. 

Buckley smiled as you grabbed a small knife. It was the size of your palm, yet comfortable to hold. You weren’t sure what to do with it. It sat in your hand like a glob of honey as you anxiously looked around. 

“What am I supposed to do?” You asked him. 

He was quick to help you. “Stand upright,” He put a hand on your back to force a good posture. He then tapped your feet with his to give you the correct footing. “You’re gonna want to follow through. Don’t overthink it too much. The tall man stood next to you as he demonstrated what to do with your arms. You mimicked his movement the first time around, soon practicing it three more times. “Remember (Y/n), don’t overthink it.” 

You nodded as you prepared your throw. Taking a short breath you threw your arm backward and then forcefully forward, missing the dummy completely, but hitting the one behind it near its thigh. The knife didn’t stay in however, it fell after being stuck for about three seconds. 

Your eyes were teary. The warmth in your face grew and you suddenly wanted to be thrown into the games. You stood in place, afraid to move. How dare you embarrass yourself?

“That’s a start,” Buckley said kindly. You turned to look at the careers but Buckley spared you the pain and grabbed your shoulders to look at him. “Don’t worry about them.” 

“I. Told. You. I. Wasn’t. Good.” You spoke in pauses. You felt a mix of shame and anger. Shame for not being able to prove yourself, and anger towards Buckley for making you embarrass yourself. 

“(Y/n), I’m sorry. But hey its ok! Here lets try again.” Buckley held your arm. You wanted to leave, but you had about three more hours of training. You said nothing and instead looked off into the distance. You were really wasting time by not doing anything, but you were overwhelmed at this point. 

“Look I just thought since you work with knives back in 10 you’d be-” His apology was cutoff by a sudden thump of wood. Cato had stealthily moved next to the two of you. The career had thrown two knives at the training dummy. Effortlessly.  He turned to face the both of you. 

“Giving up already? What happened to the girl who rode a Capitol horse?” He taunted. He was arrogantly fiddling with a throwing knife. 

Buckley knew better than to start anything, but he wasn’t going to let you take it. “She just got started.” He came to your defense. 

Truthfully, you didn’t want to interact with Cato. You had learned to stay away from him. Everyone saw how he handled the situation with the tribute he thought to have stolen his knife. He was a ticking time bomb. Anything could set him off. You didn’t turn around. Instead you kept staring into the distance. This only seemed to aggravate him. Cato had walked in front of you, knife in his hand as he grabbed yours. He looked at you with intensity as he placed the knife in your palm. 

“Don’t wimp out now 10.” 

Buckley was preparing himself to end the interaction between you two, but he stopped in his tracks when a knife flew past him. It was a reckless throw, but it managed to actually go through the dummy. This time on it’s side. 

“Why don’t you turn around and try that again?” Cato questioned as he leaned against a metal table. 

It seemed like the spotlight was once again on you. People around were now tuning into the scene. Cato’s arms transformed as he uncrossed them, his muscles relaxing. You however were far from relaxed.

“What the fuck could you possibly want from me? Why are you here? Do you have nothing better to do?” You interrogated as you stepped closer to him. It was clear he had finally struck the last nerve. Buckley looked confused but pale as his concern for his fellow tribute grew. You weren’t yelling at him, but nobody dared to get within an inch from Cato. 

His eyes were void of emotion. “I’m just trying to help out the competition. If I’m going to win this, I want to win because I’m the strongest. Not because everyone else was weak and at a disadvantage.” He spoke back methodically. He didn’t move at all. The two of you seemed to be frozen in time- glaring at each other. 

It wasn’t long before he left. Leaving you fuming alongside Buckley.

____________________________________

Tags: @randomgurl2326

[unohanabbygirl]

Greetings, so have been loyally following the posts and blurbs about the FMN x HIPS crossover because it’s so interesting and combines your wonderful writing. Might I humbly propose something similar? I was wondering about FMN and I thought to myself, hmm how can I make this worse? And well…what would an FMN au look like crossed over with A Love Long Lost? Could you give us blurbs upon blurbs for this? I’m talkin reactions of characters on what Aemond did to Luke (esp Alicent and Helaena). What is life like for Aemond in the modern world now that instead of his canon self who woke up, it’s a version who remembers desecrating Luke’s body? Is he FMN Aemond just dealing with a new history or is modern Aemond just the exact same as a love long lost!AEMOND, no change to speak of? Does Luke remember from the beginning and have to learn what happened to him from the internet or art/history? Or is the story more in line with FMN canon? If Aemond is more like his FMN self, does he have a chance with Luke or will there always be that fear of Aemond regressing and becoming the man who used Luke’s dead body for his own pleasure and obsession? Or is Luke just terrified of even seeing Aemond after learning what he did? Please take this what if and go zoomin

Okay, let me just say ‘hmm how can i make this worse?’ Is literally me anytime I open a google doc.

A love long lost!Aemond is one of my favorites because it plays into how unstable he really is. I mean, anyone who’d slaughter an entire house for no other reason than the fact that they share blood with three boys you have a grudge against (Joff didn’t even do anything mind you) isn’t all the way there mentally. Explores every deeply hidden corner of Aemond’s obsession with Luke from outright anger to the badly hidden desire and even giving attention to his overwhelming need for intimacy/human connection considering that aside from Alys he never truly knew what it felt like to be desired for himself. And even then their relationship was all a ploy for power on her part.

Now, I personally don’t like the whole “every time a Targaryen is born the gods flip a coin blah blah blah” mess because it takes away from the fact that they’re not normal people. Magic literally runs through their veins, so mental illness isn’t a Targaryen trait passed from generation to generation in this instance, it’s simply something pertaining only to Aemond. Certain circumstances such as being marked as “other” from his brother and nephews due to being dragon less, having an overbearing mother who leans on you to fill the role of certain relationships she lacks due to being a sold off child bride who lives off of resentment, losing his eye and seeing how little his own father did to punish or at the very least give a stern scolding to the one who did it. It’s the perfect recipe in creating a man who’d so easily break after taking a life for the first time. The life of the one person his existence had circled around for years at that.

One thing about FMN is that it plays off every characters past. For instance, HIPS X FMN crossover would feature an Aemond who while is remorseful, still carries the need to “get back whats his.” in a way due to both his biology and the way prime alphas are socialized. He still holds onto the idea that both Luke and Osferth belong to him despite the circumstances. So things would be definitely prove the same for a love long lost! Aemond. Especially considering how we have a degree of mental instability playing into his actions.

Does regret or remorse for violating Luke’s corpse come to be because of his exposure to this new world? Not at all. In Aemond’s mind Luke belongs to him in both life and death regardless of circumstance and has so ever since Luke took his eye. It’s a debt that time will never be able to repay, a rope tying them together for eternity. And everyone being reborn into this new millennia only assures Aemond that fate is going to reunite him with his love. 

Aemond not only remembers his actions fondly, but becomes enamored with how history regards him. Has pride in his love being so deep that others get queasy at the mention of it. I’d even say his education as well as pride in his work as an archivist makes even more sense here as it’s fueled by the want to constantly surround himself with nostalgia. It’s unhealthy yet no one around him (his own family cause the blacks have several restraining orders) feels comfortable enough to pull him out of that festering hole out of both love and fear. Especially Alicent considering she’s the only one who lived to see what her son became. Had to sit across from Luke’s mummified body year after year. Covering her ears at night as she knew her son was intimate with a corpse. Her love as a mother and her disgust as a decent human being are constantly fighting a losing battle because while both are strong, neither can overwhelm the other.

Aegon can’t stand it but stays and tries his best to ignore how far gone his brother is mostly because he feels this mess his fault in part. That his bullying + public humiliation (brothel scene from s2 is a prime example) led to Ameond becoming such a broken man. Though i will say Aegon is the one person who makes it known that Aemond needs help rather than coddling.

Surprisingly enough, Hel is one person who doesn’t walk on egg shells or pretend things are normal. Instead she talks with him about Luke, how it felt to be with the one he loved even if it was just a cold shell. She connects with her brother because he was once the only person she felt close enough with to be herself before Luke’s death changed him for the worst.

We can also make note that Hel once felt outcast for being “creepy” and “odd” herself and therefore forms a connection. Although being autistic coded with an interest in bugs is nothing like being an ill necrophile, there was once a certain mold you had to shape yourself into if you were to be welcomed by others and Hel never fit it. Paired with her dreams and constant episodes of talking to herself creates a bridge between her and Aemond.

As for Luke… I don’t like to imagine him having had such a terrible coming up simply because it would be far too overwhelming. I imagine him growing up in stable foster homes. Good fosters who while lower class do provide love and protection as well as a decent education. It lays the groundwork for being able to see red flags in a man and run rather than go in deeper for the thrill of it.

Considering this incident would be very notorious history involving this house (coming in third behind Roberts rebellion and Dany retaking the throne) its a very well known fact which Luke already has some minor knowledge about. Because of this It would take a lot for him to even give a man who has such an outward obsession with a skin crawling event the time of day. This ofc leads to Aemond doing his best to not come off as a total creep. Stopping himself from smelling Luke’s hair or running fingers across his pulse point to feel the blood pumping. He puts on a mask, one of a normal guy who just so happens to study odd history.

Their relationship would not only have to be a well-kept secret as to avoid the blacks finding out that Aemond’s been in contact with Luke, Alicent and Aegon telling Luke to run for the hills, but also keep from scaring Luke away too soon. However, once Luke recovers his memories their relationship would be over from then on out. The fact that Aemond not only did what he did but feels no guilt and even remembers their past life as “husband and wife” fondly is terrifying.

I must say that this crossover would 9/10 end in tragedy.

[mirandimoo]

sometimes i get overwhelmed by just how much one piece makes me FEEL. it makes me feel in such an overwhelming and astonishing way that i don’t think any other piece of media has made me feel. ​it honestly feels disingenuous to describe one piece as ‘just a show’ because it’s not just like “i’m a fan of this and it makes me really excited!” it’s more like somehow this entire world that’s been created and laid out in front of me, and this silly group of pirates that i have the privilege to follow along the journeys of, has changed my life at a very fundamental level. like the very way in which i view life has shifted dramatically ever since the strawhats have been introduced into my life… ever since luffy has entered my life.

my heart races when they’re on an adventure as if i’m right there alongside them. my eyes well with tears whenever something goes oh so right or oh so terribly wrong. i feel my hands physically shake and my eyes and heart and soul brighten and awaken in such a joyful and passionate way when hearing roger, luffy, or any other pirate talk about their dreams being full of adventure and freedom.

to be happy. to be passionate. to be free.

that’s they’re dream. and how lucky am i to feel such emotion upon hearing their dreams.

my dreams are filled by the great expansive seas. in my dreams i’m part of a pirate crew and our bond is closer than any other relationship, be it blood, romantic, or any other type, other people could only dream of sharing a bond like we do. we live every day, every moment, every second, knowing that it could be our last. none of us are afraid of death for ourselves but we fear it for each other, even if that may never be admitted out loud. we plunder and steal. fight and kill. we sing and we dance and we cry and we live. we live so brightly and so shortly but oh how wondrous a life it is.

in my dreams i stare out at the endless horizon line curving out in front of me. i feel the suns bright rays warm me as the salt water breeze cools me down. i help cook, i clean, i fight, i train. i practice my craft specialty in order to be able to better serve my crew. maybe in this dream i’m a musician. maybe i’m a swordsman. maybe i’ll become the king of the pirates. we never know the day or the month because we don’t need to. we just track the seasons by the length of the days and the temperature of the weather and that’s enough because that’s all we need to know. we spend our days together and alone. laughing and crying and singing and creating memories out of the grandiose or the mundane. at night we sit under the stars and lower the anchor to sleep through the night. maybe in this dream i’m on watch duty tonight. id stare out at the stars, blanket wrapped around my shoulders, thinking of how magnificent and absolutely beautiful this life is. i think of the friends i’ve made, the adventures i’ve had, and the freedom that makes my heart ache with what i could only describe as life. true and real life. this is how life is meant to be lived. short and fast and tragic and beautiful. creating bonds and memories and having adventures that perfectly encapsulate the essence of who i am as a person. surely there’s more to life. and surely i have found it here. in this life. with this crew.

and before i know it,

i wake up.

and my dream is over.

sometimes i wonder if Oda knows just how powerful and beautiful of a world he created. if he knows how impactful his characters are and how it has unlocked a part of my heart, my spirit, and my soul, that nothing else in this life has done for me. i haven’t felt anything in a long time. i can feel my passion for living slowly slipping through my fingers with every passing day. apathy spreads through my chest, my mind and my soul like a plague. and yet… out there exists a group of pirates, in this world that i could never be a part of, that acts as the antidote to my apathetic self sacrificially plagued soul.

i wonder if Oda knows this.

i wonder if Oda knows that he’s created a world that fills my dreams every night. that runs free through my veins like the worlds most intoxicating beverage. that has fully and entirely deconstructed my soul and then put it back together piece by piece, intertwining it’s value and passion of freedom into its foundations.

sometimes when i’m really sad, i like to imagine that in another life, this is where i was and where i belonged. to a crew of scheming brave and filthy pirates with a bond so close, who lived so fast and died young. out on the sea, meeting new people every week, having new adventures, exploring uncharted parts of the world, not knowing what lay ahead but being okay with that because it’s the life that i chose and the people that i chose to live that life by.

and that’s freedom.

and if i had to die fighting for that, then id die.

i think in another life my recklessness was seen as a strength and my fixations as a blessing in perseverance. my annoying and loud personality was seen as endearing and my short attention span seen as a useful battle strategy. i think in another life all my shortcomings, and things that hinder me were a strength to me out there. out on the sea.

so until that day comes i’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other. and living my life in a way that all my past selves and all my future selves would be proud of. i’ll live a life that i think luffy would be proud of.

i wonder if Oda knows how much of our souls have become irrevocably intertwined with the souls of the strawhats, their stories, and the world that he’s created.

i hope one day he knows just how much one piece has made me be able to feel again. to live again. to be free again.