m4jors

[m4jors]

the   ocean   is   one   of   his   favorite   things.      the   warm   intensity   of   the   water   as   it   laps   at   his   ankles.      he's   unable   to   go   quite   as   deep   as   he   is   without   more   focus.      his   leg   makes   the   waves   a   bit   difficult   to   handle,   but   he   manages.      yellowed   hues   widen   slightly   at   the   question      –      unprepared.      he   cocks   his   head   briefly,   and   then   –         ❝         dunno   ,   really.         ❞            he   says   initially.         thinking   about   it   still.      there   were   so   many   fish   in   the   ocean,   and   even   more   as   one   explores   the   rivers   and   streams.         ❝         i   could   be   cool   'n   say   somethin'   like   a   shark,      but   i   don't   think   i'm   that   cool.         maybe   a   lil   catfish   or   somethin'   …?            ❞   

She's calves deep. The salty smell of the water overwhelming and the steady crash and rush of waves echoes around them. She'd abandoned her shoes back at shore and now stood hunting for shells, brows arched high on her face as she cuts a bronze eye to Jasper. " If you could be a fish, what kind would you be? "

@m4jors liked for a starter!

[m4jors]

want a different fc.... can't come up w a different fc..... hate it here.

[m4jors]

@whitl0cks .... nudges u towards everyone that follows me....

[m4jors]

when he was human, his disability felt like a cruel accident. the result of silly mistakes & being at the wrong place at the wrong time. jasper's relationship with his leg post - turn is fraught with more bitterness than ever before. as a human, the injury stole his future from him. cut his potential at the root. but after he turned ? the resentment deepened into something much more existential. venom had swept through him like fire, tearing down his humanity and remaking him into something impossibly strong, fast, and nearly flawless. nearly. he could feel the break in him trying to stitch closed. the venom lingered there, as if pondering. but then it just moved on, as if it had been decided. that, jasper never forgave.

he doesn't understand why. it's not about the function of his leg. he moves with more grace than he ever could have before. even with the stiff gait, even with the drag that he can't quite shake. it doesn't slow him down in battle, but it's still there. the smallest, most miniscule imperfection left in an otherwise perfect body. that's what hurts.

it's like the universe left it there on purpose. was it a reminder ? a scar carved into eternity, when every other part of him was wiped clean ? it tells him: you are broken. no amount of power will change that.

maria liked it. she used to call it "quaint." she liked that he wasn't perfect. said that it made him "more believable" when she had him parading around as her little southern soldier - boy turned beast. jasper always hated how it made him feel, though. pitied. like even in immortality he was someone to be looked at sideways. by now, he's learned to move with it. he doesn't stumble. but some nights, the quiet ones, he looks down at it and the venom in his veins feels like a mockery. it heals torn throats, bullet wounds, the rot in his gut. but not this. never this. he'd never say it aloud, but deep down he believes the venom chose not to fix it. that truth... that fear... keeps him up more than hunger ever could.

[m4jors]

he   lingers   by   the   back   porch.      half   in   shadow.      the   screen   door   creaking   behind   him   as   it   eases   shut.   he   wasn't   sure   what   had   drawn   him   out   here.   habit,   maybe.      the   need   for   air.      the   need   for   distance.      the   night   was   still,   with   crickets   chirping   in   the   grass.      the   wind   carries   the   faint   scent   of   pine   and   rain-soaked   earth.      hand   presses   against   the   railing.      fingers   tightening   briefly   around   the   wood.      old   habits,   old   instincts.      always   bracing   for   something   that   never   quite   comes.   

he   senses   her   before   he   hears   her.      she   has   the   gentlest   of   footsteps.            ❝         esme.         ❞      it   came   out   a   bit   like   a   sigh.      not   a   warning,   just   acknowledgement.      she   didn't   startle   him.      but   something   about   her   presence   always   made   him   feel   like   he   should   apologize   for   the   space   he   took   up.      for   the   weight   he   brought   into   a   room.   he   doesn't   turn   to   look   at   her.      instead   he   stares   out   across   the   perfectly   manicured   lawn.      where   moonlight   spilled   like   milk   over   the   grass.      his   voice   was   quiet,   edged   like   a   blade   dulled   from   use.         ❝         i   don't   know   what   you   see   when   you   look   at   me…         but   it   can't   be   easy.         ❞         nose   scrunches,   as   he   thinks   about   it.         ❝         a   mother   lookin'   at   somethin'   like   me.         ❞         it   wasn't   bitter,   just   honest.      honest   in   the   way   only   jasper   could   be.      raw,      a   little   broken.      yet   still   laced   with   a   little   bit   of   hope,   deep   down,   for   her   to   prove   him   wrong.   

/ @wastheheart ( ♡ )

[m4jors]

he   stands,   guarded,   by   the   edge   of   the   tree line.      far   enough   from   the   house   to   breathe,   yet   close   enough   to   return   in   a   blink   if   he   had   to.      the   wind   stirred   the   branches,   but   it   carried   no   threat.      not   yet.         he   doesn't   turn,   as   she   approaches   from   behind   him.      he'd   felt   her   coming.      ragged,   restless.      a   current   of   panic   just   under   the   surface.      he   knew   that   feeling.      knew   it   like   it   was   his   own   shadow.      

❝         you   think   you're   hiding   it,         ❞         he   said   quietly.         ❝         the   way   your   hands   shake,      the   way   you   don't   breathe   unless   someone   else   reminds   you   to.         ❞         his   voice   isn't   cruel,   but   it   was   steady.      heavy   with   something   that   wasn't   quite   sympathy,   but   wasn't   too   far   off   either.         ❝         i   used   to   think   the   thrist   was   the   worst   part.      the   shame   after.      but   it's   not.      it's   the   fear.      the   way   it   eats   at   you   –   makes   you   believe   there's   nothin'   in   you   worth   savin'.         ❞         he   turns   to   face   her   then,      eyes   sharp.      almost   fierce   in   the   half   -   light.

❝         but   you   listen   to   me   now.         whatever   y're   runnin'   from…   it   ends   here.      you're   not   alone   anymore.      i   don't   care   who   or   what   comes   a'knockin'.      they'll   have   to   go   through   me   first.         ❞      there   was   no   threat   to   his   voice,   just   promise.      cold   and   unflinching.         

/ @floripire ( ♡ )

[m4jors]

jasper   stood   by   the   riverbank,   fingers   trailing   over   the   rough   bark   of   a   moss-coated   tree.      mud   clung   to   his   boots.      the   moon   didn't   shine   here.      too   much   cloud   cover,   too   many   trees.      he   liked   that.      shadows   gave   him   space   to   breathe.      he   doesn't   look   up   as   he   speaks.      didn't   need   to.            ❝         'ya   ever   wonder   if   there's   anythin'   left   of   the   man   'ya   used   to   be   ?         ❞         the   silence   behind   him   stretched,   but   he   felt   him   there.         ❝         i   do.      all   the   time.      but   it's   like   diggin'   through   ash   lookin'   for   fire.         ❞         he   scoffs   slightly,   something   hollow.         ❝         sometimes   i   think   i   only   remember   who   i   was   so   i   know   how   far   i've   fallen.         ❞         

finally   ,   he   glances   over   his   shoulder.      eyes   catching   theo's   in   the   gloom.         there   was   no   judgement,   not   that   he   could   see.      no   fear.      just   recognition.         ❝         that   thing   inside   us,   the   one…   the   one   that   pulls   you   when   the   blood's   fresh,   when   the   fight's   just   gettin'   good.         it   don't   go   away.      but   you   ?      you   don't   flinch   from   it.      that   means   somethin',   whether   you   meant   it   to   or   not.         ❞         he   turns,   slowly.      brushing   his   hand   off   on   his   jeans.         

❝         i   don't   need   redemption.      don't   reckon   you   do   either.      but   i'll   take   truth,   and   right   now   ?   you're   the   closest   thing   i've   got   to   it.         ❞   

/ @canniblood ( ♡ )

[m4jors]

the   rain   had   been   falling   in   heavy   sheets   for   hours,   drumming   steadily   against   the   tin   roof   of   the   old   gas   station   jasper   had   taken   shelter   under.      it   was   the   kind   of   downpour   that   blurred   the   world   at   it's   edges.      muted   color,   hushed   sound.      he   stood   just   outside   the   threshold,   as   far   from   the   doorway   as   the   awning   would   allow.         one   boot   rests   in   a   puddle,   the   other   planted   on   cracked   concrete.      he   watches   the   road   –   almost   as   though   he   expected   something   or   someone   to   arrive.      

he   felt   it   before   he   saw   her.      a   shift   in   the   current.      her   emotions   were   palpable   from…   a   long   ways   away.      but   they   weren't   overwhelming,      he   didn't   find   himself   drowning   within   them.      he   did   not   fear   her,      there   was   no   threat   to   her   movements.      when   he   turned   –   a   slow,   awkward   movement,   with   how   he'd   been   standing.      his   leg   hates   movements   like   this.      –      she   was   already   standing   there.         tiny,   yes,   but   impossible   to   overlook.      her   presence   hit   him   like   a   change   in   key.      unexpected,   jarring,   and…   strangely   ?      familiar.      

he   doesn't   speak   at   first,      just   stares   with   his   brow   furrowed.   studying   her   through   the   curtain   of   rain,   the   tension   in   his   frame   less   defensive   than   simply   wary.      the   silence   feels   weighted,   but   not   hostile.      charged.      finally:         ❝         you   lost   ?         ❞         voice   is   low,   even.      thick   with   a   texas   drawl   he   still   hadn't   managed   to   shake.      crimson   hues   flick   briefly   to   her   feet,   noting   the   dry   hem   of   her   clothing.      how   ?         ❝         you   don't   look   like   'ya   belong   in   a   place   like   this.         ❞         it   wasn't   an   insult.      because   neither   did   he.      

/ @forefables ( ♡ )

[m4jors]

the   porch   had   become   his   safe   haven.      close   enough   to   his   family   that   they   didn't   think   he   was   running   away.      but   far   enough   that   he   could   breathe.      he   stood   at   the   edge   of   the   porch,   fingers   curled   'round   the   railing   like   it   might   keep   him   tethered   to   this   spot.   the   forest   stretched   out   beyond   the   cullen   house   in   its   usual   hush.      trees   tall,   watching.      mist   curling   low   along   the   underbrush.      he   didn't   need   to   hear   footsteps   to   know   she   was   there.   

he   felt   her   before   she   stepped   outside.      the   warm,   steady   rhythm   of   hear   heart   winding   its   way   towards   him   like   music.      he'd   felt   it   since   the   day   they   brought   her   home.      impossibly   breakable.      her   blood   was   both   a   lullaby   and   a   curse.         she   was   older   now.      quite   nearly   grown.      her   laugh   no   longer   sounds   like   a   child's.      her   scent   was   stronger,   sharper,   more   dangerous.         he   doesn't   turn   as   she   joins   him.

❝         you   always   walk   this   quiet,      or   just   when   you   know   i'm   out   here   ?         ❞         his   tone   was   light,   but   his   hands   remained   clenched   around   the   railing.      she'd   grown   up   surrounded   by   immortals.      by   monsters   with   soft   smiles   and   practiced   restraint.      jasper,   though,   he   wasn't   as   good   at   pretending   as   the   others.      his   control   didn't   come   easy.      it   was   earned.      fought   for.      every   single   fucking   day.      she   made   it   harder   –   god,   he   knew   it   wasn't   her   fault.      it   wasn't   her   scent   –   not   really.      it   was   what   it   meant.      she   was   still   warm,   still   mortal,   still   breakable.      that   one   wrong   breath   from   him   could   hend   her   before   anyone   had   time   to   scream.         

❝         you   shouldn't   be   out   here   alone,            ❞         he   said,   quieter   now.      gaze   still   trained   on   the   trees.         ❝         not   with   me.         ❞         he   meant   it.      god,   he   did.      but   he   didn't   move.      he   never   did.   

/ @rosefromdeath ( ♡ )

[m4jors]

the   forest   swallows   her   footsteps,      but   not   her   scent.      not   her   emotions.      jasper   moves   through   the   trees   like   smoke.      soundless,   shapeless,   patient.      the   moon   carved   silver   lines   through   the   canopy   of   trees.      casting   shifting   shadows   across   the   forest   floor,   but   really…   he   didn't   need   light   to   follow   her.      every   ragged   breath,   every   heartbeat,   every   flinch   against   a   branch   –   she   might   as   well   have   been   screaming   out   to   him.

❝         you're   quick,         ❞         he   calls   out   softly,   from   somewhere   behind   her.      or   was   it   to   her   left   ?         his   voice   drifted,   smooth   as   silk,   and   as   low   as   the   thunder   babbling   on   the   horizon.         ❝         but   not   quick   enough.         ❞         a   pause,      listening   for   her   breath.         he   smiles.         ❝         funny,   how   you   keep   runnin'   like   y've   got   somewhere   to   go   .         like   there's   a   way   out   of   this.         ❞         he   appears,      just   ahead   of   her   this   time.      leaning   casually   against   a   tree   trunk.   arms   folded,   eyes   gleaming   with   something   unreadable.         

❝         you   should   know   by   now,         ❞         he   drawled,   accent   thick.         ❝         i   don't   chase   what   i   don't   mean   to   catch.         ❞         for   a   moment,   he   let   silence   fall   between   them.      just   the   wind,   the   trees,   and   the   space   shrinking   between   predator   and   prey.         ❝         i   could   end   it   now.      real   easy,         ❞         he   murmurs,   taking   a   step   forward.      leg   dragging   awkwardly   behind   him.            ❝         but   where's   the   fun   in   that   ?         ❞         smile   widens,   sharp   and   slow.         ❝         run   again   ,   darlin'   …         make   me   work   for   it.         ❞   

/ @cryptidhcnter ( ♡ )

[m4jors]

they   always   send   him   when   they   want   to   make   a   point.      jasper   had   known   the   moment   the   scent   on   the   wind   turned   familiar.      the   familiarity   of   instinct.      like   the   prickle   at   the   back   of   your   neck   when   a   storm's   rollin'   in.      every   creature   worth   its   blood   knows   to   run.      but   jasper   ?      he   didn't   run.      he   hadn't   yet,   at   least.         texas   was   far   behind   him,   now,   peter   and   charlotte   safely   in   the   rearview   mirror.      he   moved   like   a   ghost   through   the   skeletal   bones   of   a   dead   city,   half   -   drowned   in   fog,   the   cracked   pavement   is   slick   with   the   night's   rain.      he   was   careful,   however   pointless   it   may   be.      he   knew   full   well   there   was   no   outrunning   demetri's   tracking   ability.         not   when   the   volturi   would   call   for   blood.      not   when   they   sent   him.      he   only   knew   demetri's   name   because   of   pleasantries   the   last   time   that   the   volturi   had   barked   at   his   doorstep.

he   pauses   on   a   rooftop.      that   hollow   pressure   just   behind   his   ribs   growing   stronger   the   closer   that   demetri   gets.         he   stands,   back   pressed   against   the   metal   frame   of   a   billboard.      the   city   stretches   around   him.   old,   empty,   watching.      he   should   be   afraid,   but   he   wasn't   –   not   yet.            ❝         they   must   think   a   hell   of   a   lot   of   ya.         ❞         he   drawled   into   the   dark.         ❝         sending   you   all   this   way   just   for   lil'   ol'   me.         ❞         he   didn't   expect   an   answer.      didn't   need   one.      the   scent   grew   closer   now.      curling   on   the   wind   like   smoke.         he   was   being   herded.      yet   still,   he   smiled.      a   bitter,   crooked   thing.   

let   the   bastard   come.      he   wasn't   going   down easy.               

/ @guarrds ( ♡ )

[m4jors]

he   blinks   once,      slow.      angela's   answer,   as   simple   as   it   was,   seemed   to   catch   him   off   guard.      not   in   a   bad   way.      just…   unexpected.      a   smile…      small,   fleeting,   tugged   at   the   corner   of   his   mouth.      it   wasn't   quite   amusement,   not   like   emmett's   grins.      it   was   softer.      something   unspoken   passed   behind   his   eyes,   like   he   was   attempting   to   weigh   her   words   to   find   something   solid   in   them.      

he   stills   a   little,   when   she   asks.      not   the   tense,   coiled   stillness   he   wore   around   strangers.      but   something   quieter,      more   resigned.      gaze   remained   trained   on   her   for   a   moment,   head   tilted   slightly,   like   he   was   seeing   her.         not   just   as   a   classmate,   not   as   someone   asking   innocent   questions,   but   as   someone   genuinely   listening.         it   disarmed   him   a   bit   more   than   he'd   like   to   admit.         eyes   drop   to   the   books   between   them   as   he   prepares   himself   to   speak.      sucking   in   a   little   bit   of   air,      not   enough   to   surround   himself   with   her   scent,   but   enough   to   be   able   to   speak   without   sounding   strained.         ❝         i've…         always   had   a   complicated   relationship   with   history.         ❞         there's   a   humorless   flicker   at   the   corner   of   his   mouth   –   it's   in   the   shape   of   a   smile   that   never   quite   arrived.            ❝         it's   not   the   dates   or   the   names   i   care   about.         it's   the   weight.         ❞         fingers   drum   against   the   table,   once,   twice.   absently,   as   if   using   it   to   ground   himself.         ❝         most   people,   ya   know,      they   read   about   a   battle   and   then   move   on.         test   on   it,   forget   it.         but   for   me   ?         it's   not   something   in   a   book…   it's   –            ❞         he   stopped   himself,   just   barely.

a   pause,   as   he   collects   himself.      his   throat   working   as   he   swallows   down   the   fresh   wave   of   venom.         he   knows   he   has   to   finish.      knows   he   can't   leave   the   thought   unfinished.      hanging   in   the   air   between   them   for   her   to   decide   what   he   was   going   to   say.         ❝         –         it   just   feels   too…   close.      sometimes,   like   echoes   you   can't   shut   out.         ❞         eyes   flicker   towards   the   window   as   he   exhales.      breath   trembling   just   slightly.         it   was   gray   outside.      the   darkness   of   the   clouds   comforting   in   a   way   they'd   never   been   to   him   before   coming   here.      he'd   always   loved   the   sun      –      even   after   turning,   he   found   himself   basking   in   the   light.            ❝         i   took   this   class   because   i   thought   maybe   if   i   studied   it   from   the   outside…   it   wouldn't   feel   quite   so   personal.         ❞         the   words   were   out   before   he   could   catch   them.   he   really   looked   at   her   then.      like,   really   looked.      for   a   second,   it   was   all   right   there   in   his   eyes.      something   old,   something   tired.

❝         sorry,      angela.         that   probably   doesn't   make   a   lick   of   sense.         ❞   

she  hadn’t  intended  to  ask  so  many  questions.  they  were  just  spilling  out  of  her  in  a  steady  stream  with  no  hesitation  as  she  focused  intently  on  jotting  down  notes  in  her  well  worn  notebook.  each  question  felt  pressing,  sparked  by  a  genuine  curiosity  that  had  been  building  inside  her  for  years.  she  was  eager  to  learn  more  about  him  and  the  rest  of  the  cullens.  for  her,  this  was  the  perfect  chance  to  understand  him  firsthand,  to  peel  back  the  layers  of  his  mysterious  persona  and  uncover  the  truth  beneath  the  surface.  she  briefly  paused  her  writing,  her  pen  hovering  mid  sentence  as  she  locked  eyes  with  him,  her  dark  gaze  filled  with  sincerity.   “ I’d  like  to  think  I’m  not  like  everyone  else. ”   she  replied  quietly. 

 “ And... ” with  a  small,  light  hearted  laugh,  she  added.   “ I  might  have  thought  it  would  be  fun. ” her head dropped again, going back to her book.   “ What  about  you?  What  made  you  want  to  take  this  class?  Have  you  always  been  interested  in  history? ”

[m4jors]

blood   drips   from   his   face.      he'd   torn   into   the   flesh   like   a   man   starved.      desperate   to   ease   the   unholy   burn   in   his   throat,      and   it   had…   some.      he   was   still   hungry,   though.      lost   to   the   bloodlust   that   rippled   beneath   his   flesh   like   molten   lava.      it's   current   starts   at   his   head,      and   rolls   downward   in   harsh,   fiery   waves.      he   can   feel   it   even   in   his   toes.         his   leg   feels   it   the   worst,      the   desperately   dull   ache   amplified   into   something   fiery.      a   low   growl.      a   warning.      not   another   step   closer.         

but   then   theo   speaks,      and   he   sounds   so   friendly.         the   caged   animal   in   his   chest   still   roars   –   too   close   to   our   meal.      but   the   more   normal   part   of   jasper   understands   that   this   vampire   feels   nothing   but   curiosity.      some   hunger,      yeah,      but   it   wasn't   malicious.      he   wasn't   going   to   steal.      this   wasn't   the   newborn   wars   anymore.      he   doesn't   have   to   fight   to   eat.      his   grip   relaxes   some,      the   finger-print   like   bruising   already   spiking   beneath   his   touch.         the   human   was   dying,      nearly   dead.      she   felt   the   pain   that   he   inflicted,   and   for   that   his   stomach   rolls.         he   hates   hurting   them.      a   wave   of   calm   lowers   itself   onto   the   girl,   just   as   she   takes   her   final   breath.      her   body   is   dropped   at   his   feet   when   her   heart   finally   stops   beating.

brow   quirks,      as   he   finally   gives   theo   his   full   attention.         hand   coming   to   wipe   the   slickness   of   blood   away   from   his   mouth.         it   smears   on   his   hand,   and   stains   his   already   stained   shirt   again.         ❝         burn   it   ,   usually   .         what'cha   mean   waste   ?         ❞         jasper   had   always   been   one   to   finish   every   last   drop.      to   take   as   much   as   he   could,   in   an   effort   to   not   waste.         even   as   a   human   he'd   been   that   way.      his   father   never   wasted   a   hunk   of   meat.      if   it   wasn't   good   enough   for   human   consumption…         it   went   to   the   dogs,      the   pigs.        

the   circle   of   life   meant   something   always   got   fed.         

it's the distinct smell of blood that draws him to the darkened alleyway, along with the swirling, panicked thoughts that fade away by the second. the heartbeat isn't as wild & heavy as theo would assumed it'd be for someone who's getting the blood drained out of them, but he figures the guy's probably almost gone anyway. a playful grin tugs at his lips, eyes narrowing at the figures ahead. his head cants a little & his shoulder leans against the brick of one of the buildings they stand between.

" y'er not finished with that already, are ya? " vague motion toward the pair, his eyes now a dark red. that hunger ripples through him quickly, tongue brushing against one of his fangs. " what do y'do with the body when y'er done? let it all go to waste? " / @m4jors ♡'d.

[m4jors]

stance   shifts   slightly,   just   enough   for   the   pine   needles   beneath   his   boots   to   stir,   a   movement   meant   to   ease   the   tension   in   his   leg.      it   doesn't.      the   air   between   them   hums   with   the   ghosts   that   haunt,   the   ones   that   linker   of   the   edge   of   memory   and   instinct.      silence   stretches,      as   if   jasper   is   trying   to   decide   exactly   what   to   say.         his   thoughts   are   a   blur,      working   through   individual   pathways   without   really   stopping   to   consider   any   one   for   longer   than   a   second.         when   he   speaks,   finally,   it's   soft.      southern.      steady   in   the   way   he   only   is   when   he's   sure   of   something.   

❝         edward,         ❞         he   says,      like   the   name   is   a   lifeline.         ❝         i   know   what   it   feels   like.         the   blood,      the   guilt.            you   walk   with   it   like   it's   etched   into   your   bones.      i   do   too.         ❞         he   pauses,   not   for   effect…   but   rather,   honesty.         ❝         there   were   nights   i   thought   i'd   drown   in   it.         thought   –   fuck,   that   no   amount   of   good   could   wash   it   out   of   me.      but   you   ?         ❞            he   tilts   his   head,      eyes   on   edward      –         and   this   time   he   doesn't   look   away.         ❝         you've   done   more   good   than   most   souls   could   dream   of   in   ten   lifetimes.         ❞         a   faint,   rueful   smile   curls   at   the   edge   of   his   mouth.      it   wasn't   joy,      rather…   something   quieter.      gratitude,   maybe   ?         or   faith.            ❝         you   carry   your   sins   like   they're   the   whole   of   you.         but   they   ain't.         not   even   close.         you   think   i   can't   feel   it   ?         the   way   you   hold   yourself   back,      the   way   you   hurt   for   every   choice,   every   breath,   every   slip   ?         ❞            he   steps   a   little   closer,      just   enough   that   his   voice   dips   lower.      not   secrecy.   sanctuary.      

❝         i've   seen   men   drown   in   blood,   edward.         i   was   one   of   'em.         but   you   ?         you're   a   lifeline.         for   bella,      for   alice.      for   all   of   us.      for   me.         ❞         he   lets   that   sit.      simmer.         ❝         you   don't   have   to   outrun   it.      the   past   –   the   hunger.         you   just   have   to   outlive   it.      and   you   are.         ❞         another   pause,   this   one   gentler.        

❝            you're   not   alone   in   this.         never   have   been.         ❞    

edward  hovers  close  by,  a  silent  sentinel,  still  like  the  forest's  thick  fog.  he  looks  far  less  relaxed  than  jasper,  arms  hanging  stiffly  at  his  sides,  more  statue  than  man.  ‘‘ emmett  thinks  anything  is  solvable  with  physical  exertion, ’’  he  murmurs,  eyeing  that  same  eternal  horizon,  ‘‘ and  rosalie  projects. ’’  alice  remains  alice,  transparent,  open,  resembling  a  familial  embrace.  edward  isn't  shocked  with  what  comes  next  —  the  thought  brewing  in  jasper's  mind  long  before  it  left  his  lips.  he  doesn't  turn  to  meet  his  brother's  gaze,  jasper's  eyes  far  too  arresting.  ‘‘ it  is  a  heavy  weight, ’’  he  says,  and  it  feels  like  lying.  the  weight  borderlines  impossible  most  days,  sisyphus  and  his  forever-climb,  forever  pushing  a  boulder  that  will  always  come  back  down.  ‘‘ it  is  not  for  your  shoulders.  i  simply  won't  allow  it. ’’  it  resembles  the  end  of  a  conversation,  just  as  it's  started,  but  edward  knows  this  to  be  false.  jasper's  thoughts  run  like  galloping  horses,  their  rhythmic  trot  against  the  wrinkles  of  their  respective  minds.  ‘‘ my  …  damnation  …  is  exactly  that.  mine. ’’

[m4jors]

HELLO ! i have written many things and now it's all scheduled and i am jumping ship to work on jay things !! catch me on discord ? @ / witcherys

[m4jors]

🩸▫⚠ Blood-themed starters ⚠▫🩸

Send [...] for my muse... Send [...] + 'reverse' for change roles

[ CRIMSON ] – is bleeding and tries to hide it from your muse.

[ STAIN ] – notices your muse covered in blood and panics.

[ WOUND ] – is trying to stop your muse from bleeding out.

[ DRIP ] – follows a trail of blood.

[ SMEAR ] – wipes blood off your muse’s face.

[ SACRIFICE ] – takes a blow meant for your muse and bleeds because of it.

[ SHIVER ] – loses too much blood and collapses in front of your muse.

[ PANIC ] – finds your muse unconscious and bleeding.

[ BLADE ] – is holding a bloodied weapon, unsure what just happened.

[ TRACE ] – presses a bloodstained handprint onto your muse before losing consciousness.

[ SCREAM ] – hears your muse scream and finds them injured, bleeding out.

[ RUIN ] – is covered in someone else’s blood and doesn’t know how to explain it.

[ OFFERING ] – deliberately sheds their own blood to protect your muse.

[ HALT ] – begs your muse to stay awake while trying to stop the bleeding.

[ SCARLET ] – is bleeding but smiles, saying it was worth it to keep your muse safe.

[m4jors]

me tugging more people in towards the renaissance with both hands …