#and 2) in log 1 there's the death of a child. this is the death of killy the child

[jankillbride]

[ID: greyscale digital painting of a child version of Killy sitting on a ledge before an open door/portal way. He is wearing a schoolboy’s uniform with a hat. Behind him in the opening is a set of stairs leading away to a far distance, with statues positioned on the sides of the staircase. The opening is heavily shadowed. The ledge that Killy is sitting on is brick and in the lower right hand corner, there is a dark opening. Killy’s shadow on the bricks is also inconsistent. The background of the painting is grey with slight variations in color, done in vertical strokes. On the right, there is some exposed brick and there are some horizontal and vertical strips of grey gradients. There is an irregular shape that has the same gradient shading on the right, near the opening. End ID]

when the academy is noise >>>. click/open in new tab to see all the textures.

here’s a close up of killy’s face because you can’t super see it well in the full image.

oh and here’s a bonus image from a while ago:

[ID: digital sketch of a young Killy. He is standing, hands clenched at his sides, and looking off to the side with a disgruntled expression on. He is wearing a schoolboy’s uniform and a hat. End ID]

[sootsz]

qsmp has accidentally stumbled into a psychology experiment that would make the stanford prison experiment sob in fear. they’ve gotten a bunch of cc’s, and tens of thousands of viewers, to be deeply emotionally connected to pixel eggs. in doing so they’ve presented a problem:

how the fuck do you get outta this

the eggs were obviously never intended to be permanent (logging on every day to do tasks isn’t feasible to upkeep forever) and they were even given a vague limit of When Mama Dragon Comes Back (and then, of course, the “6 days til they die” thing). now you’ve made it so quackity (and his team) have a big ol dilemma, where two things are true: 1) they can’t keep the eggs forever since it’s not sustainable 2) you can’t take away the eggs without, oopsies, emotionally damaging your friends that you invited to have fun on your server.

turns out, when you give a group of humans all their own fully-realized individual who presents as a (weak, vulnerable) child that is in need of care from them, whatever instinct has kept us alive for generations goes “!!!!!” which is both really cool and compassionate, but also kinda concerning!

because, well: not sustainable! and if the eggs aren’t sustainable, what’s the alternative? killing them?? no! just look at jaiden’s reaction to bobby “losing” a life, even when it wasn’t his last one. or bad’s genuinely heart wrenching reaction to dapper losing a life. or how quiet and angry phil got after chayanne and tallulah had a “nightmare,” before it was resolved. that’s not acting. that’s real. what the hell will they do if the eggs actually die? from what i see, the cc’s are taking the “6 days til death” thing as something that’s avoidable. a threat that can be overcome. and for their sake, i hope it is.

ever played a dnd game where you actually feel insulted bc of smth someone’s pc did? yeah. that x20 because there’s SO much overlap between “streamer persona” and “literally just who they are”. and this level of roleplay character bleeding is cool, but i hope the eggs are handled carefully, or all those involved might end up actually hurt.

there’s also the whole added element of fans, many of whom only tune into the streams for egg content. the plot is very egg-centric. the roleplaying and characterization that the cc’s are doing is all centered around the eggs in one way or another. it’s been going on for a month, but it does not feel at all resolved, and plot-wise it would completely mess up so many plot threads happening if the eggs were all to go (charlie’s unresolved deal with lil j, quackity’s goal to bond with tallulah, the trial, etc etc) so if you take away the eggs, you risk messing up the whole vibe they’ve got going on, and facing backlash from fans who are also emotionally compromised by pixel eggs

we inherently want to protect the cute and vulnerable, and by god are these eggs cute and so very fragile. (then, there’s another layer of people’s own issues that they project onto the eggs. be it desire for paternity, some kind of maternal instinct, or, even in the matter of chayanne, using chayanne as a sort of way to cope with loss by making connections between chayanne and technoblade. which is beautiful and very sweet but would give chayanne dying some additional emotionally charged elements which i think should be avoided at all costs). there’s a reason that movies and other media generally do not kill named children characters—audiences really hate it. it’s taboo for good reason.

which leads us to

schrodinger’s egg: until sunday, they r both alive and dead. and this is both good and bad. god help us all

[bugsonthemind]

Recently recalled my only memorable Worm dream. In it, I logged on to Discord to find a bunch of my friends freaking out because apparently Wildbow had reworked the entirety of Worm basically overnight. Logically, I went to read it. And what would you know, he did. The plot was mostly the same, with a few minor edits, up until the Alec interlude. After the Alec interlude, there was... more Alec interlude. The next chapter was also from his perspective. And the next chapter. And the one after that. In fact, the entirety of Worm except for the interludes up until Alec's death was from Alec's perspective while none of the plot details changed. A lot of it centered on his weird disconnectedness from even the people closest to him and society at large, and also the weird intensity of his relationship with Aisha. Towards the end in particular he started getting increasingly introspective and philosophical about it, to the point where a bit before the Behemoth fight it felt like he was on the edge of some kind of breakthrough as a person. This was bizarre, but also very well-written to the point that it almost felt like an even exchange if it weren't for the fact that we were losing so much Taylor content in the process. And the story just resumed as normal after the Behemoth fight.

Also there was a scene that opened with him and Aisha using Shatterbird like footrest. Like it was mentioned in the first paragraph that they were both using her as a footrest and then like, for the rest of the opening of that chapter they were just. Casually shooting the shit. While using her like a footrest. And then they realized they had to leave and go somewhere else. And they presumably just leave Shatterbird there alone. Still posed like a footrest. People were furiously debating the meaning of this in basically every corner of the fandom, primarily on the points of 1) whether this was Alec's fetish 2) why Aisha was going along with it and 3) whether it was Wildbow's fetish. Points in favor of it not being Alec's fetish were primarily his offhanded mentions of how Heartbreaker used women as props, and people pointed to that as seeing the whole footrest thing as a non-sexual replication of seeing the sexual abuse and humiliation of women on a regular basis as a child. Points against it being Wildbow's fetish were that after the initial mention in the scene, Shatterbird was essentially ignored - literally treated like set dressing. Points for were essentially that same point repeated with a more accusatory tone. Everything regarding Aisha was inconclusive. I woke up a bit after reading past the Behemoth interlude and catching up with the discourse.

[vinelark]

in return for the fic recs i got last month, here are a few fics i read recently that i want to absolutely yell about from the rooftops:

Iron, Fire, Mirror-Glass by PurpleSoot: an early batman days AU where, while slowly healing from a spine-shattering injury, bruce finds an old book about the fae. in a fit of desperation he attempts a Summoning to try to heal his spine. enter: robin.

this story is fantastic—the kind of longfic with a plot so good and satisfying that finishing it leaves you on a reading high for at least a week. one of the best early days bruce fics i’ve ever read, with honorable mentions to excellent alfred and clark and jim and selina characterizations—but robin (dick) really takes the cake here. the balance of chilling, otherworldly, not-quite-human vs. playful, earnest, Still Just a Child…chef’s kiss. the way robin’s character arc drags bruce kicking and screaming through his own emotional growth is so well-paced and well-wrought that i already want to reread just so i can experience it again. this is one of those god-tier longfics that i can’t believe i got to read for free on the internet.

mid-reading testimonial:

The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne by @theskeptileptic: a tim-joins-the-family-early fic in which tim decides to do everyone (his parents) a solid by faking his own death and running away to canada, except his weirdo neighbor bruce wayne keeps butting in and messing up his plans.

this is one of the rare stories where tim doesn’t know batman’s identity yet, and even rarer stories where that somehow makes the whole thing even more compelling. this fic has two of my favorite things: small, lonely, moderately unhinged tim drake pov, and really good pangs—pangs that are expertly teased out through flashbacks that add context to the present action at exactly the right moments. also, a very fun cameo near the end. i had a blast reading this one, physically clutched my chest more than once, and am already looking forward to rereading.

mid-reading testimonial (feat. @cairoscene):

equivalent exchange by scribblemetimbers (wip): an au set during tim’s robin days in which tim discovers 1) crossroads demons are a thing and 2) people can make deals with them. deals that include bringing people back from the dead, so long as you’re willing to pay the price with your own life.

this fic is so…🤌‼️ it feels like everything i want in a fic so far, down to two incredibly specific concepts i love (bruce, in his grief, saying something harsh to robin!tim with disastrous consequences later + tim making a big secret sacrifice gambit) which are both done so so well, within a larger plot that is also done so so well. the way this fic cuts in and out of scenes at the exact right moments for max tension feels like a masterclass in causing me to tear my hair out (in the best way), and instead of assorted pangs reading it is just one big Pang. it currently leaves off on an agonizing cliffhanger but, again, in the best way. highly recommend. (thank you again @owlbats for the rec!)

exchange between me and my friend after i sent the link, which about sums it up:

and to cut this angst with some humor:

IRIS Log #1548 by @deadchannelradio: a night on patrol as recorded by the bats’ audio logs, centering around red hood getting flung into a ditch and everyone, eventually, getting home safe.

one of the top ten funniest things i’ve ever read—spiritually up there with send to all (and if you’ve seen my fic rec tag you’ll know what a compliment that is). this makes use of the audio log format SO well. the dialogue shines, the jokes land with excellent timing, and it moves at such a clip that it’s pretty much impossible to stop reading once you’ve started. every character shines in this, and i’ve randomly choked on laughter remembering the phrase ‘good god he got thrown like a corn hole beanbag’ like twenty times in the past few weeks.

mid-reading testimonial:

[greetingfromthedead]

Shepherd Story 1 (God!Knives x GN!Reader)

Plot: In a world where fallen gods live among you, there is the god of winter and death who leaves behind merciless blizzards and famine wherever he goes on his eternal search for his other half he fell for many millennia ago.

Series: Shepherd. Check out Story 2 (smut) and Story 3!

Pairing: God!Knives x GN!Reader

Raiting: Teen and up (some mild sexual/intimate content, no smut)

Tags: fantasy AU, no use of "y/n", gods, feathery plant, fated love, romance, legends, nature magic, reunion, intimacy, possessive behavior, tenderness, some fluff, body worship, implied smut

Word count: 4.2k

Author's Note: This story is heavily inspired by the incredible @triplesilverstar's god AU stories A so called God on a mountain top? Well, better then freezing to death and So its a tradition? Weird. These stories are just way too good for you to not go read them. So gogogo (unless you are underage or not into smut)...

In a world much different from our own, where fallen gods live among people, there is a story that spans over many millennia. In that world, there are countless higher beings, each with their own unique powers and abilities. They guide nature in the endless cycle of creation and destruction. Among them is a man more feared and despised than the rest, known as the god of winter and death. His icy touch is said to bring misery and despair to all who encounter him. None can escape his chilling grasp, as the harsh winters can last for years on end. Children are born within his icy domain; they live and die, never knowing the warmth of summer. But only a few know the curse put on this world by the jealous gods of ancient times.

The god of winter and death roams solemnly through the lands, bringing icy winds and blizzards in his wake. The soft steps of his bare feet on grassy fields spread frost, and the lakes get covered in ice as he passes by. He doesn't bring famine and illness, but they follow him like a shadow as he moves south on his endless search. This world has never seen a winter like this before; it has lasted for fifty years and brought the northern lands to their knees. Grain stores are empty, and people are starving. Yet the god moves further and further south with each passing day, leaving death in his wake. He is still looking, searching for the one who bears the curse.

Restlessness has sunken its claws into you as of late. It's like something's tugging at your soul. You have always felt lucky that you were born quite far in the south, away from the dark shadows of the north. You are a winter child, and never in your years have you seen the bountiful summers the elders speak of. However, you haven't been plagued by winter's chill either, and for that, you are grateful. But as of late, your dreams have frozen over, set against a backdrop of white fields and icy winds. You feel it seeping into your waking hours; the breeze hasn't been gentle for weeks; instead, it cuts like knives into your flesh, leaving you shivering.

The fire roars in your little house, but its warmth can't chase away the chill in your bones. You wrap yourself tighter in blankets, trying to hold onto the last bit of heat before the darkness of night takes over. You count the herbs in your collection; you need to make sure you have as much stock as possible if winter indeed is to claim your little corner of the world too. You know you can't afford to run out; you are the herbalist that the entire nearby village relies on for healing remedies. As you put away the jars of dried leaves, you wonder if you can sleep tonight or will you be tortured again by the dangerous desire luring you into the night.

The flickering light of the fireplace seems to dim, the dancing of the light more lazy, barely reaching your feet, let alone your workbench. You shiver, feeling a chill run down your spine as the shadows in the room grow darker and more sinister. You turn around to inspect whether you need to add more logs to the dwindling fire, but your attention is grabbed by the window to your side. Icy flowers begin to form on the glass, their sharp angles glistening in the fading rays of the day.

Are these the last remnants of your blissful life? You wonder how long it will take for the cold to overtake the countryside and turn it into an icy wasteland. How many people will die, and will you ever see summer? You shake your head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts, and raise your gaze over the forming ice, as beautiful as it might be. You look at the grassy field and see glittering snow start to descend from the sky. While frost isn't all that uncommon, you've never seen it snow quite like this. The delicate flakes twirl and dance in the air, casting a magical spell over the landscape. You're in awe, and rush to the door, pulling the blanket around your shoulders tighter before stepping outside into the freezing twilight. The air is so still, not even a whisper of wind dares disturb the enchanting scene, like nature itself is holding its breath in anticipation. The soft flakes brush against your cheeks, melting on contact and leaving a cold, damp feeling on your skin. You try to imagine your home being transformed into a winter wonderland, with snow covering every surface in sight. You know you should fear that image more than anything else, but there's a strange sense of peace that comes with it.

You glance over your little yard to the edge of the forest, and there you see a figure. Your eyes are caught by his icy gaze, and you can't see anything else beside his piercing blue irises. You feel a chill run along your spine, but not from the cold, but from the kind of terror you would feel while staring down a wild wolf.

"I found you at last, my sweet darling." The nearly emotionless words of the god of winter and death carry over the silent landscape, echoing in your ears like a haunting melody. The coldness in his face softens slightly, replaced by something akin to a gentle smile.

You are too stunned to speak or move; the knowledge of who you've come across freezes you in place. But it isn't all fear that has made your legs so heavy; the restlessness of your soul is rearing its head again, calling out to the unknown like it's an old friend. You stay quiet as you look into the eyes of the god before you, feeling a sense of both terror and excitement. He turns toward you and steps closer. Your eyes are released from the shackles of his gaze. As you look at the rest of the figure, you see the mass of wings behind him. They aren't made up of feathers, but of shards of ice that reflect the light in a dazzling display. His body is clad in a flowy white robe, partially revealing his pale skin, some of it covered by the icy shards, the same as the wings. His hair and eyelashes look like they are frosted over due to the cold that emanates from his very being. He is breathtaking as he approaches you, his bare feet make no sound as he walks along the path. The blades of grass freeze in his presence, the puddle of water forms jagged crystals on its surface like razors.

"It has been too long, my dear," he whispers, his voice low and level, the sound crossing the empty space between you effortlessly to caress your ears.

His expression is tender yet filled with a cold intensity. This is not how you imagined such an infamous god to look at a mortal being like yourself. His eyes seem to pierce your very soul, making you feel both terrified and strangely alive.

With every step he takes, the surrounding air gets colder. Every inhale stings your lungs, every exhale produces a white cloud. Your fingers grip the blanket tighter. You can't shake the feeling that he knows something about you that you don't. His eyes have never left your face as he finally stops at your doorstep.

"I am sorry for being so impossibly late," he says, holding out a hand to you, palm up. His voice has a cold edge to it.

"Am I going to die?" The words slip over your lips before you even realize you've spoken them.

"One day, darling, but hopefully not any time soon. I cannot bear to lose you again." A slight smile flickers on the corners of his lips. "Take my hand."

"What do you mean? What do you want from me?" You know you should be afraid of him, but your soul tells you to place your hand in his.

"You will remember, sweet Shepherd." He waits patiently. "Take my hand."

"I'm not a shepherd; I'm a herbalist. You must have confused me with someone else." Saying a god is wrong seems like a surefire way to die, yet you do it anyway. Your reaction paints a slightly more obvious smile on his face as he looks at you through his low eyebrows with amusement. Your heart tells you to reach for his fingers.

"I will recognize you in any life, with any face. I will always find you, as your soul calls out to me. Take my hand." His piercing blue eyes look into yours, and you know that he is the source of your restless nights. You take a deep breath and finally allow yourself to surrender to your heart and soul. Your right hand lets go of the blanket and reaches out into the freezing night air to rest on his open palm. His skin feels like marble against yours, but his touch is comforting and familiar.

"Wake up, my love." His words echo in your mind as you realize the meaning behind them. Hundreds of previous lives come flooding back to you with a sense of recognition and understanding.

"Nai!" Your eyes open wide as you remember who he truly is, "You found me!" The cycle of reincarnation finally feels familiar once again.

He shifts closer, leaning his cold forehead against yours, your hand pressed against his chest.

"Do you still have it?" he asks softly.

"Of course I do; it's been with me all this time," you reply as you shut your eyes. His cold fingers squeeze yours tighter, and he lifts his forehead, replacing it with his lips. A gentle kiss on your skin as his free hand caresses your cheek. You would be shivering if it weren't for the fire lit up inside you.

"Thank you, sweet Shepherd," he says, placing his cheek against yours as he speaks by your ear. "For keeping it safe all this time."

"It is yours after all," you say, keeping your eyes closed, savoring the moment.

"No, sweetling, it is yours," he replies, his voice warm and comforting. He doesn't quite sound like a god of winter and death, one that brings merciless cold and darkness wherever he goes. Instead, he is the guardian and lover of all your past lives, reaching back to the ancient times before you were cast out from the Higher Plane. He is the one who cradles you in his arms and whispers promises of love eternal. The freezing stares are saved for everyone else but you, for you are his chosen one.

"Why don't you come inside?" You smile as you turn your head slightly towards him, feeling the frigid air of his breath against your ear.

"I doubt I would make it through the door," his silky voice chuckles softly. "I've been searching for so long, I fear I myself have frozen."

You can see his massive, crystalline wings over his shoulder. It has never gone on so long that he himself starts to freeze as well. His body feels more rigid, and the softness of his flesh has turned to ice.

"I can fix that, my love," you say softly, reaching out to touch his frozen skin with warmth in your fingertips. The blanket that you released slides off your shoulders, exposing the goosebumps on your skin. The cold air bites at your uncovered flesh, but you don't mind; you are in love with winter. Your fingers slide along his jaw, turning his face toward you. Your breath escapes you as a white vapor before you close the gap between the two of you, capturing his lips with yours.

The kiss you share is deep, filled with a kind of longing that has been building up for many thousands of years. You feel his body warm up; the coldness of his skin no longer cuts you like knives; and your fingers get to press into the suppleness of his cheek. The quiet air is filled with a sound reminding you of delicate glass breaking. His hand that has been tracing the curve of your neck moves down to rest on the small of your back and pulls you closer, flush against his body. You feel his feathers brush against your skin as he wraps you up in his numerous wings, enveloping you in his embrace, protecting you from the frost he brings to the rest of the world.

You pull back to admire the sight you know you will find—the glowing markings etched into his eyes and skin, the pattern traveling along his body, gracing his face, and decorating his arms with intricate designs that seem to come alive in the dim light of nightfall. He is still pressing your hand against his chest, where you can start to feel the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that matches the intensity of your own.

The frost in his hair is gone, his skin taking on a tone of warmth, a blush of cold darkening his cheeks and the tip of his nose. The marks still linger on him, pulsing lightly, and you are mesmerized by the blue eyes that no longer remind you of a dangerous beast but of a soul who carries too many burdens.

You lead him into the warmth of your cottage, but with every step he takes, the fire flickers, threatening to die down completely. A kind of darkness and cold emanate from him, yet it doesn't touch you anymore. His hand in yours is warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the atmosphere around him. You refuse to let it bother you as your heart is set ablaze. His hand slides out of yours and he takes a longer step forward to be right beside you. His hand moves onto your back, and with gentle pressure, he guides you to the seat by the window, where the silvery moonlight starts to creep in. With a rustle of feathers, he spreads his wings before sitting down on the soft cushion, pulling you with him. Not once has he averted his eyes, looking at you like you're a treasure of priceless value. The hand not resting on your lower back caresses up your arm, sending shivers through your body. This seems to amuse him as you see the curve of his lips in the dim light. You settle more comfortably into his lap, and his wings fold and reach over to you like a soft blanket.

"Tell me, Shepherd, do you remember it all now?" His knuckles brush gently over your cheek.

"I have lived so many mortal lives that I can hardly keep them all straight, so I'm still piecing it together." You rest your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "But I remember you in all of them, one way or another. Why do you keep calling me Shepherd, love?"

"I don't mean to be impatient with you, but I've been waiting to find you for so very long. I can call you by your new name if you would like me to." His fingers trace along your jaw and lips as he speaks. "But you are the Shepherd. My other half. I may be the god of death, but I need you to guide the souls of the deceased into the afterlife so they can be born again."

"What?" Your eyebrows move closer together in confusion. He takes your hand out of your lap to place kisses on your knuckles.

"I meant to find you sooner, my love. This winter was never meant to last so long. But it is over now. We are reunited. I have made you a lot of work. I am sorry. Some of these souls have been waiting for 50 years to move on. I reaped them from their earthly existence, I brought death, and now they need you so my brother can bring them life once again. To offer them a new beginning in spring so that my sister can fill them up with the joy of summer. Don't you remember?"

His eyes are solemn as they look into yours. Deep regret plagues them—a kind of hurt you don't remember seeing in them before. The pain is clearly etched in every line of his face.

"I will. Just keep holding me, and it will come back; it always has." You squeeze his fingers tightly, and his lips move to your wrist, brushing against your skin.

"You can ask me anything you want, love." His piercing eyes look into yours as he measures your forearm with his kisses. "Perhaps it will help."

"Your brother—he lives on a mountain, right?" You watch him carefully. "Why do you have to roam around and not him?"

"Because people don't pray for winter and only the desperate hope for death," he replies softly. His lips trail to your shoulder, and you can't see his eyes anymore. "But even if I had the power to dictate winter and death from just one little corner of the world, I still need you to put an end to it. I do not wish to turn this world into a wasteland because you still live in it. You alone can rein in the northern winds and calm the raging blizzards, for I only love you. You alone."

You feel his sharp teeth brush against the skin of your neck, and you lean back, letting out a deep sigh as you enjoy his touch. Your hand that's been resting on his chest moves to his head, your fingers lacing into his hair. You close your eyes and savor the moment, knowing that you are completely captivated by him.

"Why must gods be so cruel and jealous? To not only curse us but the whole world with it. All that because you gave your heart to me. How spiteful, they cannot kill me, so they force me into a mortal body to ensure I'm a slave to reincarnation until the end of time." Your quiet voice fills the room as you feel his mouth move to your ear.

"And I would wage another war and fall all over again just to rectify it," he whispers into your ear. "You just say the word, my sweetest love, and I will fight for an eternity, I will lay waste to everything. Until then, I will keep searching for you in each and every one of your lives."

His hand on your back pulls you tighter, and the cocoon of feathers surrounding you rustles softly as his breath gets heavy against your skin. His lips trail along your cheek until they reach yours. He moves softly, capturing your mouth with a gentle kiss that speaks of promises fulfilled and passion unleashed.

"You are so breathtakingly gorgeous," he whispers, his voice filled with love and desire, barely moving away from your lips. "No god of beauty could ever compare to you. To think you are mine... all mine."

You lean into him as his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, knowing that this love has not dwindled over the passing millennia. Your souls date back to a time before this world was created, in the Higher Plane, among other gods, you had found each other, and now, in this mortal realm, your devotion continues to burn just as brightly. His hands trace along the curves of your body, exploring every dip and valley with a hunger that matches your own. The kisses of the winter god burn on your neck as his face presses into your skin. You lean back as his fingers undo the buttons on your blouse. The fabric falls away, revealing your bare chest as his lips map every inch of it.

"Open your eyes, my darling, look at me." You hear his insistent voice as a gap forms between your bodies, "I have been waiting for too long to see them glimmer in the moonlight, for they hold all that my soul yearns for."

The god of winter and death spends most of the night worshiping your mortal body. He kisses every mark and freckle that adorn your skin like stars. He whispers poems of adoration against the scars time has etched into you. He declares his unyielding love for you in every way two people can. He leaves trails of fire in his wake that burn with his passion. Every inch of your body is a canvas for him to paint upon. His love leaves marks where his teeth have been and where his lips have lingered. His desire leaves bruises on your skin, but you know he takes care not to break your human body.

You lay in his embrace, surrounded by the massive wings that shield you from the cold he brought with him into your home. Your fingers trace patterns into his skin, your body is exhausted, but you know that dawn is creeping ever closer and the time for him to leave is near. Your eyes remain on him as he strokes along your tingling skin. His sharp gaze catches yours.

"You're staring," you say with both amusement and slight awkwardness.

"I can't help it, you're beautiful." His low voice caresses your ears.

"Why must you leave?" The words escape you.

"Because I'm the god of winter and death, my passing alone brings calamity, I cannot linger for long," he says mournfully.

"Then can't I come with you?" You say hopefully, a glimmer appears in your eyes.

"Alas, you are chained to a mortal body, and I reside in the north, far beyond human settlements, where only demons roam the dead forests. Even if my presence alone wouldn't kill you, the merciless nature of my frozen hell would. It's no place for someone as precious as you, my sweetling." You feel a slight chuckle ripple in his body. "Yet every time you wake, you ask me that same question."

"Then when will you return?" Your voice gets quieter as you see the darkness behind your window retreat.

"An army of war gods wouldn't be able to keep us apart. They tried." His voice is soft, and he touches your cheek. "I will come back once it's my turn again, the year will be guided through its seasons, and now I know where to find you. Until my return, guide the ones I have reaped back into the circle of life, sweet Shepherd. Guide them well until we meet again."

"I hope it won't be this long again, for our sake and theirs. I don't want the humans to fear you as much as they do."

"I too wish to be apart from you for as little time as possible, yet I will engulf this world in eternal winter if it means I can return to you." His voice has a sharpness to it, his words are both a promise and a threat. "Their fear means nothing to me compared to your love."

Dawn arrives too soon, the first rays of light brushing the tops of the trees acting as a warning. Your time has run out, and your fated love must bid you farewell. His touch lingers longer, the fingers tracing the outline of your face as if etching it into his memory for eternity. His stern eyes can't hide the tender look of adoration they hold for you. His lips press against yours as the layers of wings peel away from you. Before the coolness of the outside air reaches you again, your love drapes a blanket around you, never breaking away from the kiss.

You want to reach out to him, but his long fingers catch your wrists into his grasp. He holds on tight, gripping your hands with his. He pulls away slightly and places a kiss on your cheek.

"I love you, my darling," his voice whispers in your ear. You feel another firm press of his lips on your forehead. "Keep it safe for me."

"Your heart is always safe with me. I will guard it, and I will warm it when you come again." You smile as you look up into his piercing blue eyes. "I love you in every life I live."

He releases your hands, his fingers lightly brushing your chin, before he turns to leave. He steps away from your door into the snow covered yard. His majestic wings unfurl into the still air, each feather seemingly stretching out.

"Until I see you again, my sweet Shepherd!" He doesn't show you his face, but you hear the warm smile in his voice.

"Until then, darling!"

The god's quiet footsteps lead him towards the forest again. The bare feet don't make a single noise, and the white robe emits only the slightest rustle. He might be leaving, but the world itself seems fundamentally different to you than it did yesterday. Even as he disappeared, leaving snow and ice behind and a coolness in your chambers, the dawn that came brought new colors with it you had never seen before in this lifetime.

This was originally going to be smut, but I got carried away and then it didn't seem right anymore. If my brainrot doesn't pack its bags in the next few days then I might make a part 2 that follows the original plan...

There is now a smutty Part 2.

And even a 3rd installment.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

[snwpcktz]

A GAME OF CRUELTY (pt. 1)

PAIRING: jay x fem!reader (ft. heeseung)

GENRE: hunger games au (pre second rebellion), neighbors to friends to lovers, angst

SYNOPSIS: after years of praying to not get picked for the reaping, the odds end up not being in y/n’s favor and she is chosen as district 7’s female tribute. she plans to simply sacrifice herself early, since it would be nearly impossible for her to beat all the other tributes and make it back safely to her now ex-boyfriend, ethan. but her perspective of the games change when her next door neighbor, jay, is chosen as the male tribute—and maybe her feelings towards him will change, too.

WARNINGS: mature themes (violence, death), major character death, descriptions of violence and injuries, love triangle, swearing, reader uses she/her pronouns, use of the binary genders to refer to the reaping tributes

WC: 10.3k

NOTE: hello hello !! the first part of my hunger games fic is finally here!! again, i tried to keep things as accurate as i could but this is set in the year before katniss and peeta were reaped, which means i don’t have a lot of set info to use. there will be a pt. 2, so if you’d like to be tagged pls reply to this post or my wips page! thank you and i hope you enjoy the read!! <3

reaping day. the most dreaded day every single year.

every year, two children between the ages of twelve and eighteen would be chosen as tributes to participate in the annual hunger games. they would fight against twenty-two other tributes to death, leaving only one survivor as the victor of the games. it was cruel, vicious, and the reason why y/n couldn't sleep peacefully every summer night.

y/n exited her house with a slip of paper in her hand. her boyfriend, ethan lee, had just sent her a little note asking for her to meet him in a nearby forest. it was the last year he would be reaped, so y/n brought a deer trinket from the local market as a gift.

once she locked her front door, she took a quick look around her neighborhood. it was like any other day in district 7, except that anyone could sense the dread in every single civilian's face. parents, grandparents, and children alike all held the same expression.

it only soured y/n’s mood. being the only child of her family, y/n’s mother stressed every single year over the possibility that her daughter could be chosen for a game that leads straight to death. it broke y/n’s heart to see her mother cry next to their fireplace every night, praying that her only child wouldn’t become a victim of the games.

her father wasn’t any different. although he was a man of few emotions, y/n could see how relieved he was when her name wasn’t called out during past reapings. his way of showing care was by teaching her how to throw axes from a young age. although he claimed that it was just a skill for her to use in “necessary circumstances”, y/n knew that he meant for it to be used in case she got reaped.

clutching onto the deer trinket tightly, y/n began her trek to the forest. it wasn’t uncommon for her to meet up with ethan in a forest--after all, they lived in district 7. the sounds of birds chirping filled her ears as she entered the area, accompanied by the droplets of rain falling from the night before.

she stepped over logs of wood on the ground, most likely left over from a recent lumber job. passing by the stream that marked the center of the forest, y/n made a sharp right turn, walking in the direction of the border to district 9.

y/n stopped several meters away from the fence that marked the border, decorated with large warning signs. she scanned the area around her but there was no sight of ethan.

“ethan?” she called out, her voice reaching to the dense tops of the forest.

it was silent for a moment before she heard movement above. “up here.”

she snapped her head towards the sound, now noticing ethan on top of a tree branch. he pushed himself off, landing safely on both feet on the padded ground.

“hey,” he said, approaching y/n.

“hey,” she whispered.

they stood in comfortable silence for a moment, savoring the seconds they could spare with each other. y/n was the first to speak, fiddling with the metal trinket in her hand.

“i brought you this,” she began, holding out the deer-shaped item to him. “take it as a good luck charm.”

ethan’s hand gently took the trinket, running his thumb over its grooves. his lips curled into a smile as he responded, “thanks, y/n.”

but the smile didn’t last. he swallowed thickly before continuing, “so, uh, i asked to meet you to tell you something.”

y/n nodded. “i’m listening.”

ethan paused for a moment, closing his eyes before taking a deep breath. “we…we need to break up.”

y/n could feel her heart drop. her breathing slowed as her mouth ran dry. she couldn’t understand the sudden request. hadn’t she been a good girlfriend?

“w- what?” she spluttered. “why?”

“it’s reaping day,” ethan solemnly stated.

“yeah, but this happens every year!” y/n retorted, feeling frustration rise in her voice. “plus, it’s your last year being reaped!”

“that’s the point, y/n!” ethan groaned, brows furrowing. “it’s my last year! do you know how many times i’ve applied for tesserae? my name’s in there twenty fucking times, y/n.”

y/n gulped. she knew ethan’s family wasn’t well off and that he had family members he needed to provide for, but she didn’t expect that he applied for tesserae that often. she could feel tears well up in her eyes, heartbroken for his situation.

“i have such a high chance of getting picked,” ethan whispered, worry clouding his eyes. he delicately held y/n’s hands, causing her to raise her head. “if i die, i don’t want you to hold onto me.”

“you’re not getting picked!” y/n screamed, ripping her hands away from his. “ethan, you’re the only man i love! you can’t just end things like this!”

she crumbled to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she sobbed, feeling the gentle rubs of ethan’s hand on her head.

“it's not fair!" she wailed. “it’s not fucking fair!” deep down, y/n knew that ethan was right--he did have a higher chance of being picked, and that tore her apart.

"nothing is fair here," ethan mumbled, hand tangled in her hair. "but i just want you to know that if i do get picked, please...take care of my family for me."

y/n sniffled and nodded her head. "thanks," ethan whispered, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

a sudden gust of strong wind blew onto them, causing both of them to look up. a blimp flew across the forest, stripping trees of loose leaves and ground of dry dirt. they both immediately knew what it meant, sharing a look together.

"it's time."

rows of teenagers stood in front of the hall of justice, surrounded by members of the capitol with cameras and film equipment. peacekeepers had already flooded the district, running identification checks and bordering the area for the reaping. y/n could still feel her finger throbbing from the prick she received mere minutes ago as she stood in line.

the large screens next to the stage had already began running, displaying the various members of district 7. y/n could spot a pixelated version of herself, clad in a modest white sundress and matching white ballet flats. she turned her head to the left, spotting ethan standing in his row in no time.

but he wasn't looking at her. he kept his head forward, a solemn gaze on his face. y/n turned her head back around, letting out a pained sigh. she knew that whatever emotions he was feeling at the moment could never be experienced by her, a girl who lived in an only child household in a moderately well off neighborhood. but she couldn't help but feel selfish, desperately wanting ethan to be spared from the cruel hands of the reaping.

so she prayed. she clasped her hands together and lowered her head. please, she thought. please don't pick ethan. please let the odds be in his favor, just this once.

the sounds of footsteps coming to a stop and doors opening caused y/n to raise her head, eyes now fixated on the marble building in the front. members of the district government and previous victors of district 7 entered the stage, followed by a woman with a bright smile on her face.

luxurious, velvety, emerald green clothing adorned her body along with a matching sun hat and dozens of gold jewelry. her heels clicked on the wooden stage as she made her way towards the podium, perfectly glossed lips framing her pearly smile.

"welcome! welcome, welcome," she announced, her cheery voice echoing throughout the area. "once again, i am your district escort, tiffany young! happy hunger games! and may the odds be ever in your favor."

tiffany cleared her throat before continuing, "now! before we begin, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the capitol!"

she raised her glove-clothed arm towards the screen as a video began playing. "war. terrible war," president snow's voice boomed from the speakers.

y/n noticed several girls around her rolling their eyes. she couldn't blame them. it was boring having to watch the same video every single year, especially when it did barely any justification for the games.

she turned her head to look behind her at the crowd of parents. she spotted her mom, head down and whispering words, most likely prayers for her daughter. her father was next to her, a comforting arm wrapped around his wife as he stoically stared at the screen.

it was just like every year. what was there to worry about?

y/n glanced at ethan. he had the same expression as her father, but she could see that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. a soft sigh left her lips. there was one thing to worry about--ethan.

she decided to pray once more, lowering her head and squeezing her eyes shut.

please, pick anyone but ethan. i beg for you to spare him.

"this is how we remember our past," the voice of president snow stated. "this is how we safeguard our future."

"what a remarkable film!" tiffany gushed as the music began to quiet. "now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman for the honor of representing district 7 in the 73rd annual hunger games."

y/n felt her heartbeat quicken as she watched the escort's smile grow. "as usual, ladies first."

tiffany walked to the reaping bowl with poise, heels echoing in the silence that overwhelmed the district. she reached a gloved hand in, fishing for an entry slip. she gently selected one, returning to the podium elegantly.

tiffany took the liberty to clear her throat as she undid the delicate tape on the paper slip. she glanced at the crowd before announcing the name with a smile.

"y/n l/n."

the world stopped for a moment. y/n couldn't prevent the ringing in her ears as her lips parted in shock. the pounding in her chest increased to a ridiculous speed as the girls around her turned, isolating her from the crowd. her hands grew clammy as tiffany laid her eyes on her, the smile on her face appearing more sinister than before.

"come on up, dear!" the escort called, her voice sounding sickly sweet in y/n's ears.

y/n's feet moved slowly, dragging against the gravel on the ground as she passed by her fellow civilians. she didn't dare to look up from her pathway, shrinking at the feeling of thousands of eyes on her.

she could feel the peacekeepers behind her place their hands on her back, guiding her to the stage. her eyes were shaking, losing sight of each step she was taking.

she grasped onto the railing of the stairs, barely feeling the soles of her feet. she could see tiffany at the top of the stairs, reaching a hand out to her. "come, come!" she said to y/n, gesturing to her with her hand.

y/n gratefully took it, allowing the texture of her velvet gloves to bring her back to reality. tiffany placed her other hand on her shoulder, gently leading her to the left side of the podium.

"well, let's have a big hand for our first tribute, y/n l/n!" tiffany declared into the microphone.

the weak applause clouded y/n's head, contrasting the striking speed her heart was thumping at. she used the last of her strength and consciousness to lift her head, searching the crowd in front of her.

she could spot her mother's face, frozen with shock and panic. her father's mouth was open, completely bewildered and in disbelief. y/n moved her eyes to the crowd of teen boys, where she found ethan already staring straight at her, a fresh tear sliding down his cheek.

y/n swallowed thickly, not breaking the eye contact. here she was, standing on a stage that she never thought she would be standing on. her lips quivered as she gained the strength to mouth an "i love you", triggering a rush of tears to ethan's eyes.

she chose to cut the eye contact after that, unable to watch her ex-lover cry. she stared straight at the wooden floor, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to hold back the tears in her eyes.

"and now for the boys!" tiffany stated.

the escort walked to the reaping bowl on the opposite end of the stage, quickly plucking a slip from its depths and returning to the podium. she let out a small hum before unfolding the slip.

"jay park."

y/n raised her head to look at the crowd. the boys had distanced themselves from the said person, who looked just as surprised as y/n was when she was chosen.

y/n recognized him. he was her next door neighbor, a boy known for being respectful and hard-working. at just a year older than y/n, he was preparing to enter the workforce full-time, learning the ups and downs of his family's lumber business. he was known to be skilled with axes and saws, his muscular arms and broad chest proof of it all.

he wore a white dress shirt and black slacks, dark hair slicked with gel and neatly combed. the peacekeepers guided him to the stage, his dress shoes sounding every step he took up the wooden stairs. he stood on the other side of the podium, observing the crowd from his new perspective.

y/n turned to ethan, a part of her relieved that he wasn't picked. but he clearly did not feel the same, his eyes now red and cheeks stained with tears. he looked at y/n so hopelessly, it made her feel ashamed for feeling even a bit of relief.

"shake hands, you two!" tiffany's voice said, snapping y/n out of her trance.

she glanced at jay, whose eyes were already on her. they quickly joined hands, jay's large one wrapping around y/n's shaking one.

"happy hunger games!" tiffany announced, her smile brighter than before. "and may the odds be ever in your favor."

y/n had spent the last few minutes curled up in the corner of a room in the hall of justice, sobbing to herself as she processed what just happened. in the span of just several minutes, she had been chosen as a tribute for her district in a game of death.

her grip on her knees tightened. although her father had somewhat prepared her for this scenario, there was no way in hell that she would survive the hunger games. sure, she knew how to throw axes and she was pretty good at climbing trees, but she was sure that it was nothing compared to what other tributes can do.

she felt her tears flood out as she fell into a hole of despair. it was impossible for her to win, huh? i'll just die first, she decided, choking out her sobs. i'll die first so that my parents won't gain false hope. i won't let them waste tears over me.

the creak from the door opening caught y/n's attention. a peacekeeper held it open, allowing her parents to step inside the room. "you have three minutes," he stated before shutting the door.

y/n immediately stood up, running to her parents. "mom! dad!"

her mother engulfed her in a tight hug, warm tears falling onto y/n's shoulders. "my precious, sweet little baby...why is the world so cruel to you?" she whispered, her voice thick with anguish.

y/n only cried harder, burying her face into her mother's neck. "you don't deserve this, baby," her mother weeped. "you deserve to live a happy, long life with us."

"m- mom, i'm gonna die," y/n babbled, feeling her words slur after crying for so long.

"don't say that, please," her mother begged. y/n could feel more droplets of warmth land on her shoulder. "please, please! don't ever say that again."

"y/n, you have to try your best," her father's voice reasoned. "you need to fight until the end."

y/n could only cry more, letting out a gut-wrenching scream. "i- i don't wanna leave so early..."

she could feel her mother squeeze tighter as her sobs got louder. "baby, y- you know we love you so, so much, right?"

"yes, mom...o- of course i know."

"please, live. for us."

the sound of the door opening caused y/n to hold onto her mother tighter, watching the peacekeepers heard towards her parents through her swollen eyes.

"no! stop!" she yelled, gripping onto her mother's arm. she could feel another peacekeeper restrain her from behind, ripping her away from her parents.

she wailed, pushing away the peacekeeper. she watched her mom get dragged out of the room, burying her face in her hands as her back shook from the intensity of her sobbing. her father turned around, sending a solemn smile to her.

she watched a stream of liquid drop from her father's eye. it was the first time she saw her father cry.

the door slammed shut for a moment before it reopened, a tall man entering with a peacekeeper at his tail.

"ethan!" y/n ran to the boy, who let her press her puffy face on his chest.

he rested his head on top of hers, hugging her hair while closing his eyes. "i thought it was going to be me," he whispered, breath shaky. "but it turned out to be much more worse than that."

he gently cupped y/n's face before bending down, swiftly connecting their lips. wet with tears, their lips molded against one another, filled with desperation and despair.

they separated after a moment, allowing ethan press his lips against y/n's forehead as she sniffled. "i still love you, y/n."

his words only caused her to choke out another sob. "i'll love you forever. you know i love you so."

the dreaded door opened once again as a peacekeeper pulled on ethan's arm, forcing him away from her. his eyes welled with tears once more as he mouthed another "i love you" before the door shut, physically separating the two.

y/n collapsed to the ground, screaming as she punched the ground with her fist. i love you too, ethan.

after what seemed like hours of crying and peacekeepers forcing her into a carriage, y/n had somewhat collected herself, lightly sniffling as she gazed out of the window.

tiffany seemed almost unaffected by the girl, chattering about the capitol to jay with a grin on her face. she would spare a glance at y/n every so often, but decided to not speak to her, assuming that she wanted some personal space in the cramped carriage.

before they knew it, they had arrived at the train station. "just an hour and we will arrive at the capitol!" tiffany cheered as they boarded the train.

as soon as they entered, the tributes were greeted with luxury they had only dreamed about before. crystal chandeliers, gold-plated silverware, and plush cushions were laid out just for them. glass displays held varieties of baked sweets and savory bites, followed by an impressive selection of beverages stored in crystal pitchers.

y/n’s mouth gaped at the sight, slowly stepping into the train cabin. of course, the capitol is different.

“now, now, sit down children!” tiffany sweetly said, guiding the two with gloved hands on their backs to a table. “i’ll be back in just a moment!”

y/n hesitantly sat down in a chair that was much too lavish for her, practically swallowing her in the lush cushioning. jay followed in suit, seating himself next to her.

“this is insane,” jay muttered, eyes fixated on the delicate china set on the table.

y/n hummed in response, blinking her swollen eyes as she took in her surroundings. “it’s crazy how we went from being neighbors to sacrificing ourselves for our district,” she mumbled, a frown etched onto her face.

jay could only sigh at the comment. one day, they were going about their daily errands, chatting as the children of families who lived next door. the next, they were seated in a high-speed rail train on the way to the capitol, where their desperate battle for survival would be broadcasted for all of panem to see.

“y/n, jay, i want to introduce you to someone!” tiffany’s bubbly voice rang.

the escort approached the table, followed by a woman sporting a coffee brown blazer and a matching pencil skirt. her raven black hair was highlighted with scarlet red streaks, all tied back into a ponytail that moved from side to side with each step she took.

she slid into the seat across from y/n, a cold expression on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest. “this is johanna mason, victor of the 71st hunger games!” tiffany introduced, elegantly seating herself next to the said woman. “she will be your mentor as a victor from district 7.”

silence overcame the room. y/n and jay stared at johanna expectingly, who was avoiding their gazes by locking her eyes onto the table in front of her. tiffany sat perfectly straight, her smile slightly faltering at the sudden change in volume.

“well,” she said, standing up and brushing off her velvet skirt. “i will leave you three to it!”

her emerald green stilettos clicked against the hard floor as she moved to a cabin next door.

“so, you’re the unlucky pair that got pulled into the games this year,” johanna grumbled, eyeing both of the tributes. “i’m not someone who’ll sugarcoat things, so you both better be fucking prepared for what i’m about to say.”

y/n and jay nodded, eager to hear from a fellow district citizen and a victor of the games.

“you have literally no chance of winning.”

johanna’s words caused y/n’s heart to drop. she could tell that jay was experiencing the same, tension quickly swarming around the table.

“but you have a good chance of surviving longer if you follow my advice,” she continued, resting her elbows on the polished table.

johanna picked up a gold butter knife, running her fingers along the edges. "you're not a career district, but you're not the most disadvantaged. that's what 7 is--always stuck in the middle. lumber is all we're known for, so everyone who watches the games knows that we can handle our axes. but don't let them think that."

she stabbed the table with the knife, causing both of the tributes to flinch. "you need to act weak," johanna declared, looking at both of them in the eye. "that's how i won. make them believe you won't survive anyway, hide, and attack at the last moment. fool them. use their stupidity to your advantage. that's the only way a middleman can win."

she turned to jay, ponytail following her head movement. "you. jay park, seventeen. i heard you're already in the lumber business."

"yes, ma'am," jay replied, a little intimidated by johanna's stare.

"don't call me that, it makes you sound like a pussy," johanna spat, leaning back in her seat. "call me johanna."

"yes, johanna."

she let out a hum of approval. "are you good with any weapons?"

"i've worked with axes and saws," jay answered. "i've done mostly chopping, cutting, and sanding my whole life. some heavy lifting and business communication, too."

"great, strength and customer service," johanna summarized with a nod. she turned her head to the right, locking her eyes onto y/n. "now you. y/n, seventeen. any experience with weapons?"

"my father taught me how to throw axes since i was little," y/n responded. she found herself fiddling with the hem of her dress, nervous for her new mentor's reaction.

"axe throwing, i like it," johanna replied. "unfortunately, there are no throwable axes offered in the games, so you're sort of fucked there."

y/n felt her breath hitch. before she could speak, johanna continued, playing with the knife stuck in the table, "but knife throwing isn't far from axe throwing. plus, if you train enough, you might be able to throw the axes they have."

y/n let out the breath she was holding in, somewhat relieved by her mentor's response. she had never felt so grateful towards her father.

"now, this whole week is dedicated to preparing for the games," johanna stated, changing the topic at hand. "you will spend your time training, being interviewed, being tested, and kissing up to sponsors. unfortunately for you both, your first day has already started."

the windows of the train transitioned from dark to light, beams of sun flowing into the cabin. a huge body of water could be seen surrounding hundreds of high-rise buildings made with sleek designs and accompanied with phenomenal technology.

johanna eyed the two tributes with astonished looks on their face, curling her lips into a small smirk. "welcome to the capitol, bitches."

y/n stood next to a chariot, adjusting the corset on her body. she had just spent the last few hours being completely tortured, aka hours of waxing and plucking. if that wasn't enough, her stylist completely ridiculed her for having a puffy face after crying, embarrassing her in front of the whole prep team.

she had never wanted to go home so badly.

but here she was, dressed like a capitol darling in getup she could have never pictured herself in. a forest green corset was bound tightly around her waist, hugging the black long-sleeved bodysuit embroidered with gold leaves underneath. a matching black maxi skirt was wrapped right under the corset, with layers ruffled and seams sewed with gold thread.

thick, gold hoops hung from her ears and gold cuffs banded her wrists. her hair was combed and let down, decorated with a single gold barrette embellished with emeralds. her eyes flaunted deep, green eyeshadow shimmering with gold pearlescent glitter and long, curled and lengthened eyelashes. her lips were painted with a warm brown lipstick, matching the color of her nail polish.

y/n had never felt so out of place. she shifted her weight, feeling uneasy standing in such tall heels. how do people in the capitol dress like this everyday?

her eyes caught jay heading to the chariot, adjusting his own gold cuffs. his chest was covered with forest green armor, accented with gold leaves. his biceps were framed with a long-sleeve compression shirt, perfectly sculpting the curves of the muscles. black slacks accentuated his long legs, held on his waist by a black and gold belt. his hair was slicked back and his ears were cuffed with gold earrings. glittery green eyeliner bordered his eyes and his lips were plush and pink- wait, why was she looking at his lips?

y/n blinked. she couldn't believe how stylish (and incredibly attractive) her next door neighbor looked. the most they had seen each other in were the formal attire they wore for reaping day every year to look somewhat acceptable on public television. but now, now she understood why he was such a hot topic among the girls in her neighborhood.

jay's eyes met hers and he flashed a small smile, finishing his trek to the chariot. "you look amazing," he said, a few strands of gelled hair slipping out of place and framing his forehead.

"same goes for you," y/n breathed out, sending back a smile of her own.

they could hear a dramatic gasp and turned, spotting tiffany and johanna heading towards them. "my darlings, you look absolutely stunning!" tiffany squealed, clapping her hands as she walked.

"trees, trees, trees," johanna groaned. "that's all that damn stylist can do. get some fucking creativity, people!"

"johanna!" tiffany yelped, slapping the mentor on the shoulder. she faced the tributes once again, adorning a bubbly smile. "well, i think you both look absolutely wonderful."

"at least it's better than mine, i guess," johanna grumbled, crossing her arms. "now, today is all about beginning to attract some fans. act friendly, smile, and wave. don't do anything stupid and you'll be fine."

the static from a speaker could be heard as caesar flickerman appeared on a screen. "that's our cue to go!' tiffany exclaimed. "we'll see you later, darlings! and remember, smile!"

their escort and mentor left, following the crowd of other district team members. jay let out a soft sigh before saying, "it's time for us to get ready, then."

y/n hummed. jay stood next to the entrance of the chariot and held out a hand. "ladies first," he stated with a smile.

thump! y/n was glad she had a full face of makeup on to hide the heat spreading on her cheeks. she delicately took his hand, feeling her heartbeat increase as she stepped onto the chariot and held onto his gentle hand.

jay followed after her, accidentally brushing his shoulder against hers. she could feel the warmth radiating from his body due to their close proximity. her hands gripped the railing of the chariot, squeezing the metal tighter as she tried to not focus on the boy next to her.

the crowd outside began to grow louder as the first chariots were released. she could hear caesar flickerman from the screen, gushing with claudius templesmith about each of the tributes' stylistic costumes.

before she knew it, the horses in front of her began moving, pulling their chariot closer to the entrance. bright stage lights shone in y/n's eyes, blinding her for a second.

she felt jay place his right hand on her left, tapping her two times. "smile, y/n."

and so she did. y/n parted her lips to reveal the most dazzling smile she could, the sound of cheers filling her ears. but she missed the sweet smile jay gave her as her eyes adjusted to the new lighting.

the unsteady movement beneath her feet and the overwhelming amount of viewers caused her stomach to churn, but the hand on top of hers provided her a newfound source of comfort. she swiveled her head around, making sure to keep her bright smile plastered on her face.

the audience was full of people sporting vibrant garments and bizarre accessories. colored eyelashes the length of a hand, dyed hair in all sorts of purples and pinks, and puffy sleeves adorning shoulder after shoulder. it was beyond anything y/n could've imagined wearing, but here she was, standing in almost identical clothing while they observed her like a character in a game.

after all, that was all she was to them--a new addition to their cruel game that they watched eagerly every single year. to the ultra-wealthy, it was all fun and entertainment. but to her, it was a one-way ticket to her death.

she felt the smile on her face falter, gulping before stretching the corners of her lips wider. now was not the time to think about those things. she needed to attract sponsors to gain even a minute more of survival in the arena.

so she stood up straighter, flashing her most welcoming face that she could. the heat from the torches that they sped past only added to the adrenaline rush she felt running through her veins. her eyes flickered to the dual screens above the audience, catching the cameras filming their chariot.

she glanced at jay, who's smile was just as charming as ever. his jawline was firm and sharp, a charismatic feature that the capitol's cameras easily captured. his eyes shone with determination, a look that many could only find in the careers.

y/n felt a sense of pride in the moment. proud to have jay as her partner, proud to hear positive reactions from the audience, and proud to be from district 7.

the horses made a turn, slowing their pace down as they brought the chariot to a stop. a gust of air brushed past them as they left the heat of the runway, ending their time in the spotlight of the tribute parade.

y/n allowed her lips to relax, scanning the environment around her. the last few chariots were filing in, all carrying tributes dressed just as extravagantly as them. she watched as the sponsors in the audience screamed with energy, enjoying the last moments of the parade.

she could see the cameras pan to a podium above the tributes and turned to face it. there president snow stood, waving to the crowd with a small smile.

the audience grew quiet as he cleared his throat. "welcome. tributes, we welcome you," president snow announced. "we salute your courage and your sacrifice. and we wish you, happy hunger games! and may the odds be ever in your favor."

y/n felt her eye twitch at his words. before she knew it, the chariots began to move again, pulling all of the tributes out of the spotlight as the crowd cheered one last time.

in just a couple of more days, y/n had found herself on the last day of training.

johanna had taught her the differences between throwing knives and throwing axes, and so she had adjusted her training accordingly. she had quite a bit of trouble at the beginning, but eventually adapted to the new weapon quickly.

now, she was more determined than ever to try her hardest in the games, no matter what it took.

she practiced climbing structures and creating fires with jay. they talked more over identifying sources of water, studying types of infection, and spying on the other tributes. jay had taught her how to properly use a tactical axe and y/n had showed him how to aim weapons in long-range fights.

she learned that jay was talented at cooking and often tried new recipes for dinners on weekends. he informed her about the small pieces of etiquette he picked up on at formal business meetings at meals in their apartment. within just two days, she found herself closer than ever to her next door neighbor.

they shared secret smiles during training sessions, had late-night talks after hot showers, and gave each other words of encouragement every morning. he cut her steak for her at dinner, she wiped his sweat after training, and they held hands on the way to the basement of the training center, squeezing each other tightly as a way of supporting each other.

they had become close friends in such a short span of time, but they wouldn't tell each other about the deeper feelings that were brewing in their chests.

johanna slapped both of their backs as they stood in the elevator on the way to their private training sessions, where they would be officially scored by the gamemakers. "now, i would say act weak, but you two have showed off way too much during your training," she spoke, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

"so instead, go for something more average," she instructed. "like a seven. or a six. miss two shots but hit one. you won't get as many sponsors but at least you'll be off of some of the tributes' radars."

johanna sent both of them a small grin. "good luck to you two, and be as average as you can!"

her words caused both of the tributes to chuckle, exiting the elevator once the doors opened. "bye, johanna!" y/n called, waving to their mentor.

johanna just leaned against the glass windows of the elevator, shaking her head with a smile.

the two district 7 tributes entered the gymnasium's waiting room through automatic sliding doors, finding many other tributes already sitting inside. thick tension clouded the room, causing the small smiles on their faces to drop.

they were finally here on their last day of training, two days before the games would begin.

they sat down on stools labeled with their district's number, eyeing the other tributes warily. the careers sat with confidence in the front, cocky as ever with smirks on their faces. on the opposite end, the lower districts were hunched and fidgeting, anxious for the evaluation.

once again, y/n and jay stood in the middle, both figuratively and literally. y/n swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling a little parched. sure, she had trained long and hard to adapt to knife throwing, but her skills were definitely not on par with a career who had been throwing knives her whole life.

she glanced at the district 1 female tribute, who was giggling at something her partner had said. y/n had observed her throughout their training sessions, taking the time to understand her style of fighting and her precise aim. y/n wasn't unaware of her surroundings either, finding the tribute's gaze on her multiple times.

she fiddled with her fingers, suddenly feeling her hands grow clammy. "jay," she whispered, catching the boy's attention who responded with a soft hum. "do...do you think we can ever defeat the careers?"

jay glanced up, taking a quick look at them before replying, "well, they're not invincible, are they?"

y/n let out a soft chuckle at his words. "sure, they attended a special training academy and whatever, but we've played around with axes since we could hold a pencil," he continued, wrapping his arm around her and rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. "like johanna said, we just need to deceive them to win. after all, we might not need to fight them for them to die. a nasty ego is just as bad as a sword through the chest."

jay gave her one last pat on the shoulder before facing her. "don't underestimate yourself. you've worked hard and deserve to show off a little."

y/n smiled, gazing into his kind eyes. "thanks, jay," she said. "you deserve it, too."

he smiled back, staring straight into hers. they sat in a comfortable silence, neither of them breaking the eye contact. y/n was thankful that the room wasn't dead silent, otherwise everyone could hear how loudly her heart was thumping.

the warmth in his eyes, easing all of the tension in her body. the way his pupils dilated the longer he stared at her. the reflection of the light in his eyes, highlighting his soothing gaze.

for a moment, she swore that she saw jay's eyes flicker to her lips. but the sound of an alarm interrupted their silence, catching the attention of all the tributes.

"the private training sessions will begin now."

y/n let out a quick breath, seeing jay do the same in her peripheral vision. she squeezed her eyes shut, holding her head in her hands. how could she think about anything else other than the evaluations at hand?

but no matter how stressed her mind was, it couldn't stop the pounding in her chest. heat rose to her cheeks as she replayed the moment in her head, remembering the split second jay eyed her lips.

time flew by as her head ached, split between worrying about her private session and processing the feelings in her heart. she felt ashamed with herself--it had not been long since ethan broke up with her and she was confident that she still had feelings for him. so why was her heart fluttering around another man?

before she knew it, district 6's tributes had finished up and the waiting room was half empty. "district 7, y/n l/n," the electronic voice announced.

y/n stood up, stretching her limbs before heading towards the gymnasium entrance.

"hey y/n!" a voice called through the silence.

she turned around, looking at jay, who now had everyone's attention. "be average," he said with a grin, causing y/n to smile.

"you too," she replied, pointing at him.

she could hear him chuckle as she left through the sliding doors, taking one more deep breath before entering the gymnasium. the training room was cold, with little light illuminating the large area. she could hear the chatter of the gamemakers in a room above, observing their little festivities with food and drinks.

y/n walked to the marking in the center of the room, making sure to look at all of her surroundings. three targets shaped like humans were placed at a certain distance from her marked spot. to her left was a spread of different knives, all set neatly on a placemat and a table.

she turned around to face the gamemakers, who were enjoying their cocktails above. "y/n l/n, district 7," she introduced herself, catching the attention of the head gamemaker, seneca crane.

he swallowed his sip before nodding to her, prompting her to begin her chosen skill. she picked up a knife, gripping the wooden handle tightly.

she held her breath, focusing her eyes on the target and balancing herself. be average. she let her eyes lower before throwing the knife as powerfully as she could.

the thigh. not a critical area but definitely a shot that could cause lots of pain. she heard some pleased reactions and some mocking chuckles from the gamemakers.

y/n continued, grabbing a longer knife. she planted her feet, eyed her target, and threw the weapon.

the edge of the arm. another painful area, but not a critical one. definitely less impressive than her last shot. she heard more chuckles this time but didn't mind them.

she brushed her hands over the rest of the knives, taking the time to weigh her options. she decided on a thicker knife, with more weight and less speed.

she stood on the marking, once again. she took in a sharp breath, holding it as she positioned herself. eyes straight on the target, soles flat on the floor, and arm in the air, tensing with energy. she threw with all her might, a shout coming from her lips.

right smackdown in the heart. she huffed, staring at her work in disbelief. a few whistles and weak applause could be heard from the gamemakers as she faced them and bowed, taking her leave.

she was met with johanna and tiffany at the entrance of the district 7 apartment, who clapped loudly for her.

"that was wonderful, darling!" tiffany cheered, flaunting a hot pink tulle dress and matching accessories. "you did amazing!"

"great job on being mediocre, y/n," johanna commented with a chuckle. "that last shot was nice, though. definitely will bring you some sponsors."

"thanks, guys," y/n replied with a smile.

"come, come! jay's evaluation is playing," tiffany said, ushering y/n to the couch in front of the television screen.

she sat down on the soft cushion, shimmying a bit to get more comfortable with the skin-tight training clothing she was wearing. johanna stood behind her, resting her arms on the frame of the couch as tiffany elegantly sat down.

y/n could see jay on the screen with a tactical axe in hand. he swung the weapon around, hitting vital spots of the dummies surrounding him. the camera panned to the gamemakers, broadcasting their impressed faces as they discussed his skills.

he finished up by chucking his axe straight at a dummy’s head, the weapon slicing the head straight down the middle. jay took a moment to catch his breath before bowing in front of the gamemakers, ending district 7’s private training sessions.

y/n gulped. she knew jay was good, but the evaluations showed her a new side of him. one that was vicious, determined, and confident. there was no doubt that he would be a threat in the arena.

the television screen flickered off and tiffany stood up immediately, clapping her hands. “marvelous! just marvelous!” she gushed. “what talented tributes we have this year!”

“you should’ve seen the beginning, he purposely dropped the axe on a dummy’s foot,” johanna said with a light laugh. “i think he took my advice a little too seriously.”

y/n snickered at the comment, standing up from the couch. “he’ll be here any minute now!” tiffany exclaimed, rushing to the door to greet him.

as soon as y/n and johanna caught up to the escort, the door opened, revealing jay with a tired smile on his face. sweat stuck his loose hair to his forehead and his chest puffed with each breath he took.

“darling, you were outstanding!” tiffany squealed, patting him on the back. “just wonderful! the sponsors should be piling in as we speak!”

“nice job, jay,” johanna complimented. “i liked the part where you dropped the axe on the foot.”

jay chuckled, giving the mentor a playful glare. his eyes shifted to y/n, who was already smiling with pride.

“you did amazing, jay,” she said, causing him to grin.

“thanks, y/n. you did well, too.”

“now, wash up, children! i don’t want this apartment to be reeking of sweat!” tiffany ordered, prancing off to the kitchen. “and remember that they will broadcast the results this evening!”

after an afternoon of resting, a hearty dinner, and a lighthearted sunset watch, the district 7 team sat around the television screen, patiently waiting for their results. caesar flickerman held a rare serious expression on his face as he relayed all the information off of his cards.

the room was filled with a thick silence with everyone sitting perfectly still. the anticipation grew every minute as everyone watched eagerly, paying close attention to the other tributes' scores. per usual, the careers scored high, with the district 2 male scoring an eleven. y/n chewed on her bottom lip, the worry at the back of her mind beginning to grow.

there was less than 48 hours before she would be in the arena, fighting against each and every one of the tributes displayed on the screen.

once the district 6 tributes' results finished up, y/n could feel her heart beating unbelievably fast. it was the first time a test result could determine life or death for her, and the tension in her body came to an all-time high.

as caesar flickerman changed his cards, y/n felt a hand creep towards hers, gently intertwining their fingers. she turned to her left, spotting jay mouthing an "it's okay" to her. her chest heaved as she tried to calm herself down, forcing herself to breathe slower.

jay gave her a quick nod before facing the screen once again. "from district 7, y/n l/n..."

y/n whipped her head to the screen, not blinking once as the world stilled around her. she could feel herself squeeze jay's hand tighter, holding her breath for a single moment.

"...with a score of six."

she released the breath she was holding, relaxing her grip on jay's hand. she could feel johanna pat her shoulder in approval. "that was very average, y/n. an exact 50%."

a part of y/n was glad that she would be able to escape the careers' watch, but another part of her was worried about receiving little support from sponsors. but she chose to not fret about that as she flinched at how strongly jay held onto her hand.

she glanced at him, realizing that it was the first time she saw jay so visibly anxious. the typically calm and laid-back boy was now tense and nervous, a light sweat forming on his forehead. she could feel his palms grow clammy as he clutched her hand tighter, awaiting his results.

"and from district 7, jay park...with a score of eight."

cheers erupted from the room, a delightful squeal coming from tiffany. "jay, darling, you are spectacular!" she gushed, clasping her gloved hands together.

"great job, jay," johanna said with a nod. "but you'll have to be careful now. you're on par with the careers, which means that you've spiked their interest."

"nice job, jay!" y/n exclaimed, taking his hand into both of hers. he grinned and replied, "yours was good, too."

"well, all that's left for you two is to charm the audience tomorrow!" tiffany cheered, standing up. "rest well and wake up early! i will teach you all the interview etiquette you need to know!"

"and don't get too comfortable with each other!" johanna sternly teased. "you are on a survival show, not a dating show."

as they shared the final laughs of the night and prepared for bed, y/n couldn't help but ponder over her mentor's words. what johanna said rang true, even if it was intended to be a lighthearted joke. in the end, they were competitors in a game, even competition for each other.

she climbed into her bed, burying herself underneath the lush covers. she knew it was wrong for her to think about anything other than survival, especially when her inevitable death was approaching extremely fast. so why did her heart beat so fast when he touched her? why was she so unbelievably comfortable with someone she had just began considering a friend four days ago?

why was jay on her mind every night as she fell asleep, worrying about the games?

the eve of the hunger games. y/n stood in line, right behind the district 6 male tribute. she shifted her weight, watching the interviews commence from the screen backstage.

her stylist chose to dress her in a cream chiffon gown, the torso embellished with pearls and yellow topaz. her shoulder straps were loosely draped with layers of chiffon strung together. gold droplet earrings and a thin, double-layered gold necklace accented her ears and neckline. her hair was tied up elegantly, bound with matching gold ribbons. her eyeliner was drawn with gold glittery liquid, two yellow gemstones glued right underneath her lower eyelids. she shifted once more, balancing on her gold stilettos cuffed to her ankles.

the district 6 tribute in front of her peeked over her shoulder, throwing her a sultry grin. "looking good, seven," he commented, adjusting his black tie.

before y/n could respond with a snarky remark of her own, a hand was placed on her shoulder as she felt the heat from a body close to hers.

"i suggest you turn back around, six," the voice of jay, now sarcastic and brooding, spoke out. "your interview is starting."

as the slightly flustered tribute entered the stage, y/n faced jay, now realizing exactly how close they were. his face was mere centimeters from hers, a firm stare in his eyes.

unlike her, jay was clad in a sleek all-black suit, with gold cuffs and a gold handkerchief in his breast pocket. his hair was styled into a comma, eyebrows brushed and sleek, and ears adorned with multiple gold studs and loops. his eyes were painted with the same gold eyeliner as y/n and his fingers were wrapped with gold rings.

she could feel the heat from his breath, smell the subtle scent of his body wash, and hear the low beating of his heart. the hand on her exposed shoulder dropped, causing her to look up at him. he had taken a step back, repositioning himself in the line.

"you good?" he asked, a concerned expression on his face.

"yeah...i'm okay," she mumbled, turning back around.

she stood still, trying to calm the clamoring in her heart. she fanned herself with her hands, cooling down the heat spreading on her face. to others, it looked like she was flustered to be next on stage. but she knew that the fluttering in her stomach was for a completely different reason.

the audience applauded as the district 6 male finished up his interview, taking a large bow before leaving the stage. caesar flickerman laughed loudly and faced the cameras, microphone right underneath his chin.

"now, district 7, with gorgeous outfits for gorgeous tributes. let's hear it for y/n l/n, seventeen from the seventh district!"

y/n inhaled sharply before stepping into the spotlight, flashing a bright smile as she waved to the audience. the cheers grew louder with each step she took, shaking hands with caesar before sitting down in the interviewee's chair.

she sat with one leg crossed over the other and hands placed on her top knee, just like tiffany instructed her to. "welcome, y/n!" caesar exclaimed with a grin. "how are you liking the capitol?"

"it's very different from home, that's for sure," she responded with a light nod. "i have to say, the fashion here is quite extraordinary. never could i have imagined that i'd be wearing a ballroom gown, talking to a man with bright-red hair in front of the whole nation."

caesar paused for a moment, touching his said hair. "are you talking about me?"

"yes, i'm talking about you, caesar," y/n replied with a laugh.

the host let out a hearty chuckle, causing the audience to laugh along. "now, speaking of home," he continued, leaning towards the tribute. "is there anyone special back there? someone you're interested in? there has to be someone interested in you--who wouldn't fall for this stunning smile?"

y/n felt her smile falter as the audience cheered at the comment. caesar's question suddenly reminded her of the boy back at home, most likely watching the broadcast while he worked late hours to provide for his family. how could she forget? the day he ended their relationship, right before she got pulled into the games. she realized that the days she spent in the capitol were void of ethan, her mind completely focused on training and the day she was dreading.

and maybe a different boy, too.

but caesar's question caused her to swallow thickly, feeling guilty for forgetting about him. the boy she promised her heart to, the one who gave her his love seconds before they were ripped apart.

"well...uh..."

she found herself unable to think of a straight answer. "there...there's this boy..."

caesar hummed, egging her on. "he's the most wonderful person ever, kind and caring, a complete family man," she added, a smile forming as she thought about ethan. "he always prioritized others before himself. took care of his siblings when his parents couldn't. made sure to ask me if i ate even when he had no food."

but the smile didn't last long, soon dropping before she continued, "but we ended things before the reaping because he thought he was going to be reaped. he didn't want me hanging onto him if he died in the arena."

a dry chuckle escaped her lips. "but here i am, standing here instead of him. i guess things didn't turn out the way we expected them to."

caesar had a pitiful expression on his face as the audience cooed, some sniffling in the crowd. "i'm sorry about that," he said, placing his hand on top of hers. "i wish you the best of luck in the hunger games."

"thanks, caesar," y/n replied, shooting him a small smile.

"well, there we have it, ladies and gentlemen," the host concluded, helping her stand up. "from district 7, the brave and courageous y/n l/n!"

he raised her hand, letting y/n take in all the applause as the crowd stood and cheered. she left momentarily afterwards, welcoming herself into tiffany's arms backstage.

"darling, you did amazing," she said, rubbing her shoulders soothingly. y/n knew why tiffany was reacting this way but chose not to speak, appreciating the moment of comfort the escort provided her.

she escaped her arms, stepping closer to the screen backstage to watch jay's interview. he was already on stage, seated next to caesar with a charming smile.

"so jay, tell me, how is it that such an attractive man is sitting here right next to me? hm? do tell."

jay chuckled at the host's comment. "well, i'm just alright. but if you insist, i think it must be the brows."

"no need to be humble, jay. but are my red eyebrows as dashing as yours?" caesar questioned, raising his brows repeatedly. "if i'm being honest, i think mine are better." the audience howled with laughter, causing both jay and caesar to join with the crowd.

"now, tell me," the host continued. "do you have a special someone? our gorgeous district 7 tributes surely do not lack in the beauty department, do they folks?"

the audience cheered as a soft smile formed on jay's face. "look at him! jay park, with the jawline and the muscles! surely you had admirers back home, didn't you?"

jay chuckled again before speaking, "well, caesar, i wasn't really that desirable-"

"humble again," caesar interrupted by fake-whispering to the audience, inducing more laughter from the crowd.

"-but i did have my eyes on this girl from home," jay finished, piquing the host's interest. "oh! do tell."

"she's from the same neighborhood as me," jay added. "actually, we're next door neighbors."

the audience gasped with excitement and shock. but y/n froze, eyes never leaving the screen backstage. she knew that no one in the capitol knew they were next door neighbors--nobody except for y/n and jay themselves.

"i wish i could've talked to her more before i left, but i was reaped unexpectedly," jay said with a frown.

caesar matched the frown on the tribute's face. "well, you go out and win those games, and you tell her how you feel when you get home, okay?"

jay awkwardly smiled, responding with a small, "okay."

"ladies and gentlemen, the charismatic jay park from district 7!" caesar finished, triggering cheering and applause from the audience.

y/n watched as he exited the stage, approaching where she was standing with their team. tiffany immediately sauntered up to him, patting him on the back. "marvelous, darling! you answered so well!"

jay shot a weak smile at the escort before meeting y/n's eyes, already knowing that she figured it out. he quickly left backstage, heading towards the elevator to go to their apartment.

but y/n followed him, narrowly squeezing into the elevator just before its doors closed. jay gulped, avoiding her eyes as she stepped closer to him, leaning against the glass windows.

"jay," she began, softening her voice. "was...was that about-"

"yes."

he locked his gaze with hers, clenching his jaw tightly. "it was about you."

y/n's eyebrows furrowed, parting her lips to speak. "but-"

"i'm sorry that i feel this way and i completely understand if you don't feel the same," jay interrupted. "but nothing is going to change how i feel. i know that one of us will die, or maybe even both of us. but i can't help it."

the elevator dinged, its doors opening to the seventh floor. jay exited, followed by y/n, not turning around to look at her as he stopped at the entrance of their apartment. "i have feelings for you, y/n. and i know i shouldn't be having them when we're fighting against death in less than 24 hours."

"jay, wait-"

he opened their apartment door, immediately leaving her at the foyer as he made a beeline to his room. the loud slamming of his door echoed around the apartment, making an obvious statement to y/n.

y/n could barely force herself to sleep last night. with the hunger games dawning upon her and jay's words ringing in her ears, she spent most of her night tossing and turning under the covers.

but as she sat in the jet, transporting her to the arena with a tracker in her arm, she realized that the one event she dreaded most was finally happening. there was no turning back--the games were about to begin.

johanna led her to her tube in the launch room, brushing off her brown jacket seconds before the tributes had to be ready. y/n's hair was tied up away from her face, sporting a cropped vest of armor and black cargo pants under her long track jacket.

"remember, avoid being lured into the cornucopia but grab anything nearby," her mentor advised, straightening the collar of the jacket. "and find a source of water and food as early as possible. burn out all fires before it gets dark and make sure to hide well."

johanna paused, placing her hands on y/n's shoulders. "and please, stay alive. i believe in you."

y/n nodded. "thanks for everything, johanna."

the mentor smiled, a hint of uneasiness in her face. "they'll start the countdown soon. don't jump off the pedestal early, or they'll blow your guts out."

y/n stepped inside the launch tube, watching as the glass door swiveled around to a close. she felt the ground beneath her rise as johanna waved goodbye to her, causing y/n to smile sadly back.

she turned her head upwards, squinting her eyes as the dark space flooded with light. her tube stopped moving, locking into place as a burning heat overwhelmed her body. she scanned the arena, her heart beating faster than ever.

"the countdown begins now. 60..."

it was a ruined city. all rubble and dry concrete. the sunlight was pelting on them like a fire, breaking the tributes out into a sweat. a single pillar, chipped at some of the edges, was surrounded by backpacks and weapons alike. some of the supplies were spread out, varying in locations across the cornucopia.

"...45..."

y/n noticed a backpack a couple of meters away from her. she locked her eyes on it, planning to grab it before running.

"...30..."

she blinked harshly, the dryness of the heat getting to her eyes. she noticed jay several pedestals away from her, already looking at her.

"...20..."

her hands were already sweaty and shaking from both the anxiety and heat. but jay's eyes comforted her, slightly relaxing the stress in her body. it was as if all the tension from last night between them evaporated into thin air.

"...10..."

she felt her chest heaving, struggling to breathe from the rapid beating in her chest and the dust in the air.

"...9..."

she closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down.

"...8..."

she inhaled slowly and took her time to exhale.

"...7..."

she opened her eyes, adjusting her eyes to the bright sun again.

"...6..."

she eyed the backpack in front of her, feeling her heart racing even more.

"...5..."

she looked at jay, who was preparing to run.

"...4..."

he met her stare, their eyes locking with each other.

"...3..."

she mouthed a "stay alive."

"...2..."

he nodded as his lips said, "you too."

"...1..."

within the end of a second, the 73rd hunger games had begun.

© snwpcktz

taglist: @kpopstanmeg @kyunlov

[stephen-the-spider]

“Hello? Hello..? Hi there, (user). Oh, me? Just showing the new camper aroun-“

“Dude, get off my blog.”

Data loading…

Name: Miles (retracted)

Age: 15

Birthday: (retracted)

Sexuality: subject, when asked, bite Doctor Matthews (demiromantic)

Gender: subject is male and will answer to masculine or gender neutral terms (he/him, they/them, it/its)

Godly claim: subject has Roman heritage but is a child of the Greek god, Thanatos

Diagnosis: subject is labeled as autistic, sociopathic and possibly manic (aspd, impulsive episodes)

Behavior: subject is able to function in a social environment, but lacks the necessary skills to communicate effectively and bond with others

Crime log: Attempted murder, murder, breaking and entering, robbery, assault, battery, identity fraud, arson, lying to a judge, lying to a cop, and vandalism

Other: Subject is Romanian-American. Speaks both languages fluently. Subject has a strong bond with (retracted), a young girl subject labels his sister, and (retracted), a spider. (Flora, Stephen)

Subject has yet to form relations, if subject manages to, they will be listened here:

@clown-energy-skyrocketing - Knox, brother

@crazy-son-of-hades - Ace, they’re friends, miles just won’t accept it, yeah ‘friend’

@by-the-fates - Eryx, a ‘friend’ as well

@of-course-im-the-winner - Daphne, sadly she should be returned to me if lost

@if-chaos-was-a-boy - calix, pup, whichever - I’m stuck with him now

@itsyourboyezra - adding you purely because it feels weird to have 2/3 of the couple, Ezra, I don’t know if we’re friends or if he just talks to me cause I talk to the other two

@iceweavercatlover - Damien, my brother :) fellow spider obsessed death boy

@so-to-be-or-not-to-be - Bea, another sister of mine

@bambi-the-dummy - Bambi, daily dose of sunshine

@ridethiscowboyy - Luka, he’s convinced I could be a model

@girl-of-madness - Vanessa, gives good head massages

@green-child-of-aphrodite - Alex, I think we’re friends

Retracted 1

“Mimi! What are you doing?”

Data loading…

Name: Florence “Flora” Daniels

Age: 9

Birthday: April 3

Sexuality: Subject has shown attraction to females, but is too young to have this attraction labeled

Gender: Female, subject answers to she/her

Godly claim: a legacy of Ares and daughter of Apollo

Diagnosis: subject is autistic

Behavior: subject is joyful and friendly, but is prove to lashing out

Crime log: battery and assault

Other: subject is not to be separated from miles.

Subject is excited to add close relations here:

@clown-energy-skyrocketing - Knox!! Our brother :)

@frank-zhang-praetor - Frank!! Officially my friend, cause I said so

@so-to-be-or-not-to-be - Bea!! My sister <3

@bambi-the-dummy - Bambi, she’s so sweet!!

@green-child-of-aphrodite - Alex, she’s lovely :)

Tagging system:

Flora’s talking - flora makes an appearance

Miles murmurs - miles is talking

Doc mcmatthews speaks - doctor Matthew shows up, which will be a rare occasion

Stephen the spider - Stephen, retracted 2, the pet spider of miles is shown or mentioned

Manic miles - self explanatory, miles is manic

Faceclaims:

Ooc: miles and flora are loosely based off the characters from ‘The turning’ but I feel as though I’ve altered them so much they are almost my own

[mr-laveau]

"Laveau, how much angst did you give your darlin?" Good question! Here's an answer pt. 1

Tags: discussion death of parental figures, childhood rejection, not canon compliant, angst got dialled up to 11, this was all made pre-reveal of the canon timeline, Highschool!David/Darlin, just be prepared to understand that I put my darlin through some shit.

Darlin who turns 13 and finds out they're a shifter. Their local department branch threatens to take them from their parents if they cannot find a pack. Their parents pack some bags and go looking

Darlin who was rejected from every other pack because they were seen as too much of a liability to be introduced to any pack. Packs either couldn't accept new shifters, didn't want to train a humanborn shifter, didn't want to accept an autistic child into the pack or simply made up excuses not to take Darlin in.

Darlin who watches their parents struggle with getting them into a pack, driving from state to state, trying to learn about magic and keep their child safe as they search for a place to help them develop as a shifter.

Darlin who leanred to use their magic on their own at a young age so they weren't a burden to potential packs who could take them in.

Darlin whose parents, Darius and Renko Lancer fought tooth and nail with Gabe Shaw and Frank Talbot to get their kid into a pack despite not being empowered.

Darlin whose family is accepted and took up residence at the edge of pack territory in a log cabin. They make it work

Darlin who's introduced to the pack at 15, it has been two years since Darren Lancer first found out he was a shifter and he is better at using his magic than most of the adults in the pack. He is seen as a prodigy and they quickly make friends with David, Milo and Asher. They are finally given a place to be themselves and have friends.

Darren has stayed with the pack for six months when they get the call during class that their parents were involved in an accident in their home. He runs home immediately and sees the scene. They learn that a rival pack attacked their home for being too close to their territory at the boundary of the shaw pack. Their parents fu=ought back and were killed in the incident. The department promises to look into the matter. The case runs cold.

Darren stays a month in his parents' cabin after their deaths. Nothing was touched. Darren has not cleaned it since their parents died. There is dried blood in some spots where the department did not reach. The smell of iron fills Darren's lungs and he has not been to school since. There are rumours about Darren spread by some of the adults of the pack. They think Darren has broken psychologically, they think that Darren is sick and they eventually call the authorities to have Darren taken out of the pack and placed in foster care. It is not successful and Gabe Shaw intervenes. A week after, Darren is placed under the care of Marie and Colm Greer. He is not officially adopted and has refuted the option of adoption. He is sixteen when he arrives into their home, his birthday passed and he didn't tell anyone. He instead spent it alone, cleaning his parents' cabin.

Darren Lancer gets into a fight with Christian after he takes their dad's jacket from them to put it to wash. He has a broken nose and a scar on his chest. The pack disapproves of their actions and threatens removal. Gabe however shows Darren how to clean and maintain leather jackets 1 month and 2 weeks after the death of their parents.

The department has Darren in holding after they were caught fighting with the rival pack that attacked their parents. Five wolves have had their limbs mangled and may not walk well again, Two wolves are in critical condition and a wolf is too traumatised to give testimony. They are found out to be the same wolves that attacked Darren's parents and Gabe intervenes to keep Darren out of trouble 1 month 3 weeks after the death of their parents.

Marie scolds Darren and admits them into therapy. Darren and Milo grow closer as a result of Colm's bad habits worsening. A month after the death of their parents, as marie cries alone in the kitchen, Darren sits next to her and hugs her. 2 months after feeling robbed, Darren feels connected to the Greers.

Darren starts to learn guitar and music as an outlet after being suggested by his therapist. Marie reminds Milo and Darren to keep it down a few nights but she's glad to see that they're getting along better. Darren rejoins pack meetings and social gatherings with the pack 3 months after the death of their parents. David makes friends with them much to the disapproval of the rest of the pack's adults. Gabe invites Darren over for dinner.

4 months after, Darren is officially dating David Shaw. Gabe invites Darren over again, and again, and again. Marie has taught Darren how to cook, clean and how to trust. She has taught him how to defend himself emotionally and physically. Gabe has taught Darren how to run free in the forests nearby as a wolf, he's taught Darren how to tussle and David is there to learn with him. Milo, David and Asher invite Darren to hang out regularly. Milo and Asher feign disgust seeing them kiss but they're glad seeing them both happy. David says he loves them and Darren isn't shy to say it too.

Darren turns 17 and David asks him to senior prom. It's one of the best nights he's had. They dance with Milo and pull stunts with Asher but the final dance is reserved for David before they leave the dance and spend the rest of the night together. It's been 5 months and Darren feels at peace.

[jaegerjackoff]

The Doctor | Part 1 | The Mandalorian

> Part 2

summary: When the Child falls ill, the Mandalorian seeks a familiar doctor.

pairing: eventual Din Djarin x OC afab!reader (no physical descriptions; reader has relatives, a surname, and backstory/personality)

word count: +1.3k

a/n: I actually pulled myself out of a seven-year fic hiatus to do this. My writing is rusty™, so please be kind! And title suggestions would be stellar. 🥴 That one detail aside, I have a lot of backstory in mind, honestly to the point that "reader" is really just an OC who I'm writing in second-person. Debating third tbh. I'd love for any feedback (esp on Mando) and I hope to have a writing masterlist & another installment up in the near future! eta: thanks to local-fanfic-addict for the name suggestion!

warnings: rated T, minor descriptions of illness, referenced character death

-

A petulant cough from Din Djarin’s side cuts through the hiss of the gangplank rising behind him, a smoked visor tilting downward to regard the small lump in his knapsack. It hides the grimace upon his lips, the crease in his brow, at how miserable the Child seemed.

“Hang in there, kid. Not much longer,” Din murmurs, more to himself than the feverish body at his side – to steel his normally calm nerves – orange-tipped gloves passing in comforting strokes across roughened duraweave.

When he accepted a job on the last planet, the Child seemed fine, with a sniffle that could have been written off to the perpetual cold both aboard the Razor Crest and the planet they were on. Nearing the mission’s end, however, the Child was sweltering and had a deep, wet cough that obviously racked his tiny body.

First, panic. 

Din hadn’t the slightest idea as to how to care for a sick child. He hardly cared for himself properly and was only getting a feel for this bizarre parenthood. Of course, he was unprepared – utterly helpless to soothe the Child’s fitful crying. Din couldn’t help but shout while digging through the storage compartments at the paltry medical supplies upon the ‘Crest, which included a few tiny bacta pads and untouched nausea medicine (which, if he were honest with himself, had probably been aboard since the ship was manufactured).

Then, a realization.

Upon a moon several hours away by hyperspace was an old acquaintance. One who had saved his hide many years before, who would be safe for the Mandalorian and his foundling.

With much haste, Din concluded the mission – handed over a quarry (whose horror was suspended in carbonite), accepted payment, and quickly departed the frigid planet. Where he touched down was quite its contrary; verdant and temperate, known most predominantly for its abundant botanicals and as a picturesque, if underdeveloped, retreat. Warm air rushes beneath Din’s helmet as he treks through the streets of the quaint port town.

It had changed since his last visit, years ago, but remained relative enough that his memory could guide his measured footfall. He didn’t allow himself a chance to reminisce, carrying onward through the central marketplace to the edge of town, where sat a modest building labelled simply in Aurebesh:

doctor  apothecary open

Beneath the sign, the door is set open, voices carrying faintly from within. Two feminine and the grate of a masculine-programmed droid.

-

Days on Chaira were slow – simple. (Save for the occasional excitement from its residents, most often the arboriculture and logging industry nestled in the nearby mountains.) Once living there full-time, you’d quickly learnt why your father decided to settle down on this moon, of all in the galaxy.

Following the morning’s appointments, you slipped into the minutiae of managing the small clinic, bottling or compounding common medicines, writing up orders for a future supply run, and preparing files for appointments in the coming days. All the while, your resident 2-1B unit went about sanitizing surfaces and tools and tidying up.

Settling in for a late lunch at the front desk (just to be safe), you called your mother via holopad, through which you updated one another daily. You detailed your morning thus far and – for the systematic difference – your mother her entire day.

“Is 2-1B around?” Your mother’s query causes your eyes to flit upward in time to see the droid round the corner. Just how she always managed to ask of him right as he entered each time was beyond you.

“Yeah, right here,” you hum around a mouthful of peppery herb salad, pushing the puck transmitter closer to his side of the desk so he can wave an appendage to your mother. Meanwhile, you shovel another forkful of salad into your mouth.

“Salutations, Sola. I hope you are well. Isn’t it,” 2-1B pauses thoughtfully. “A bit late on Yavin 4?”

“Oh, please, 2-1B,” grouses your mother, and you can see the smile in her projection. “I’ll go to bed soon; I just had to check in with you two.”

Your eyes wander while they chit-chat, gazing out the door for several moments before you notice the head of a shadow pause just within view. You crane your neck and lean forward on your elbows to get a better idea of who (or what) is lingering outside, which 2-1B catches on to and turns as well.

“Mom, I think we might have a walk-in,” you share quietly, pushing your bowl off to one side.

“Alright, my loves. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Love you, mom; talk to you tomorrow,” you reply gently, and 2-1B pipes up in a farewell of his own. Just before the gracious image of your mother’s expression blinks away, the stranger finally crosses over the threshold (a wall of metal – beskar), commanding your attention, and your jaw falls momentarily slack.

Mandalorian.

But not in the mottled hues of flaking paint and common metal you so distantly recall. Instead, the portion of armor you can see from the drape of his cape is brilliant silver.

As you slowly rise to a stand behind the desk, you stuff down your awe, a spume of trepidation releasing in your chest.

(You can’t help wondering if this is the same one–)

“Pardon the interruption, but I need to see Doctor Vancil. Urgently.”

“I–” It takes everything in you not to crinkle your nose and press your lips thin at the assertion, at the underlying desperation that still finds its way through his vocoder. This wasn’t a spiel you’d had to deliver in some time. Allowing your eyes to close, you draw a deep breath before regarding the collected but imposing figure in your lobby.

“My father, Doctor Vancil, is one with the Force,” you answer, noting how the shiny helmet rears back slightly. “In his stead, my– his droid and I have been continuing his practice. 2-1B can check you out, and I’ll see to it that you get any medications you may need.”

You swear you catch the quietest, clipped end of a curse from the man before you, whose helmet slowly turns toward 2-1B. A slight, terrible cough followed by a coo emanates from somewhere at his hip level, causing your eyes to widen. 

A child? 

In a bag?

“I’ll accept your help – but no droids.”

Along with his dry declaration, the Mandalorian idly gestures two orange-tipped fingers toward your companion, and you nearly feel offended on his behalf. Yet the temperate droid, having gleaned much of his personality from your father, with whom he had been partnered almost all of his existence, understood your capability and responded with a “very well then” before toddling down the hallway at his back.

“Very well,” you parrot with an inkling of uncertainty. You collect your datapad as you round the desk to the same side as the Mandalorian stands, a small sweep of your arm beckoning him to join you, “We’re going into an exam room two doors down on the left. No droid.”

A modulated hum is nearly drowned out by the heavy trod of the Mandalorian’s boots as you shut the door gently behind the two of you and go to wash your hands at the small counter basin. He occupies the space almost uncomfortably, T visor sweeping its primitive decor of jars of cotton buds and tongue depressors, and a hanging plant with cascading purple leaves.

“So, what brings you in?” You glance over your shoulder and draw from your usual repertoire of starters, unsure how to address the child noise at his hip – which was now a soft babble.

“My foundling,” he clarifies, brushing aside the weathered cape to reveal a knapsack at his hip. From within it, he produces a wrinkly, green-skinned creature with large eyes and ears unlike anything you’d ever laid eyes on. “He started getting sick two days ago, and I’m not sure what to do.”

You nod slowly, contemplatively, trying to school your expression into professional impassivity. Although not a species you’d helped yet, it was a baby. (Probably.)

“Okay, I should absolutely be able to help. I just have a few questions to begin.”

> Part 2

-

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[hottpinkpenguin]

Joel Miller X Fem!Reader - Last of Us - Part 13 - The End

A/N: this is the last chapter of a series. read part 1 ! read part 2 ! read part 3 ! read part 4! read part 5! read part 6! read part 7! read part 8! read part 9! read part 10! read part 11! read part 12!

Taglist: @midgetpottermills @casssiopeia @flyingmushroomss @amethystwonders11 @hiphopdancer101universe @kiszkawagnerwhore @littleshadow17 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @alm0501 @ch4rcuterie @lodeddiperrodrick @amandalove1355 @laurathefahrradsattel @moshpot24x @middleof-thenight @kettlechips3 @happymakercollectorsworld @alainabooks143 @mikariell95 @superbreadsoull @twd-rocks-blog @livmadsen11 @sage-bunn @emmy626 @somenerdyuserr @vitavenio @yjnicks @littleshadow17 @honeybunzzzz @thenovelcarnival @shypositivitywritinghorse @kik51199 @lovelyygirl8 @adriennemichelle98 @imobbssed @sofsofsposts @axshadows @ipadkidsworld @dorck26 @somebodytookmyusername @bubblebuttwade @tartiflvtte @simplycomplicatedlifeofdenisa @zbeez-outlet @psychomanias

Warnings: dark themes; substance abuse; post-apocalyptic dystopia; death of reader's minor child; probably a lot of non-canon details since I've never played the game; not proofread; spoilers if you haven't seen the show/played the game Word Count: 1926 Abbreviations: QZ = quarantine zone; FDRA "Fedra" = Federal Disaster Response Agency

----

You watched Joel from the log you were resting on next to Ellie. He was smoothing the last mounds of dark soil over top of Tessa’s freshly dug grave with his hands. Aside from the rhythmic soft slap of Ellie’s switchblade smacking her palm as she tossed it up and caught it, all you could hear was a gentle brook babbling merrily in the woods behind you. 

“You think he’s gonna be ok?” Ellie asked bluntly after a few more tosses of her knife. You chewed on your lip thoughtfully as you considered her question.

“I don’t think ‘ok’ is much of a thing anymore,” you replied quietly, your mind inventorying all the things you’d lost in the twenty years since the outbreak. Joel had his own losses, things he’d probably never speak of out loud. Tessa was just the latest in a long line of grief. That was life in the world now.

“That’s fucking bleak.” 

You chuckled at Ellie’s irreverence. Gabriel used to say the same. He’d had such optimism, such a zest for life. He’d been born into a bleak world - like Ellie - and somehow they’d both found a way to still be kids. It was incredible to you, and one of the few things that gave you hope. As Joel laid a few wildflowers on top of the grave, a soft smile curled the edges of your lips. Joel Miller had recently made your list of things that gave you hope. 

“Tell you what else is bleak,” Ellie chimed in. You turned to her, raising an eyebrow in interest. “Watching you fall for a grouchy old fuck with graying hair. I mean, shit, are pickings really that slim in the QZ?”

You couldn’t help but let out a ripping, belly laugh. 

“There’s a lot to love about Joel,” you informed her once you’d stopped chuckling.

Ellie gave you a skeptical look as she continued flipping her knife in the air.

“Like what, his rich vocabulary?” 

You snorted again, shaking your head at her irreverence. You knew she was joking: she’d hardly left Joel’s side since the daycare. Although, neither had you for that matter. A comfortable, unspoken understanding had settled over the three of you. You were a unit now, a family of sorts. Where one went, you all went. 

“Certainly not his punctuality.” Ellie titled her head pointedly in Joel’s direction, where he was kneeling at the foot of the grave in a moment of quiet. She’d been itching to go for about an hour now, although you were unwilling to rush him in his grief.

“Soon, Ellie. Give him some time.” 

She huffed but let the issue drop for the moment. You watched the blade of her knife spin in lazy loops. You made a mental note to ask her to teach you how to do that one day.

After a few minutes, she flicked the switchblade closed and rose from the log in a huff of restless energy. 

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” she announced indignantly as she stalked off in Joel’s direction. 

“No, you’re not.” You rose from your own seat with a stiff, waddling-like motion to avoid bending your bruised ribs. 

“I’ll go,” you told her, using your best don’t-mess-with-me mom voice. She rolled her eyes but nodded sullenly, sinking down onto her haunches in front of a tree trunk where she started picking at the bark with her fingers. 

You wove your way through the trees to where Joel stood at the foot of the freshly dug grave. He was staring down at the grave, his eyes glassy and his face unreadable. You weren’t sure he’d even noticed you were there.

“This is a nice place to be buried,” you mused, taking as deep an inhale as your ribs would allow, drinking in the cool air. 

Joel nodded solemnly next to you. “As good as any.”

A few moments of easy quiet stretched between the two of you, nothing but the gentle sound of running water and spring birdsong to keep you company. You snuck a glance over at Joel, studying his profile as the shadows lengthened between the trees. His eyes still had the weight of grief, but there was something lighter about him. He caught you looking at him, catching your gaze with a crooked smirk.

“You know, we have a real knack for meeting up in shitty circumstances,” he said with a low chuckle. 

You smiled at the teasing tone in his voice.

“Not too many circumstances that aren’t shitty these days,” you countered. He nodded in agreement, his eyebrows knitting together as the light melted from his eyes into worry. He shot a glance over his shoulder in Ellie’s direction. You could see him falling into his own thoughts.

“I’m not sure I know how to do this,” he stammered awkwardly. When he looked at you, his eyes were swimming with something between fear and hope. “I mean… a teenager? Again? In this shit? And not just any teenager… this teenager.” 

You knew what he meant. Ellie wasn’t just another post-outbreak orphan. She was an answer, a signalfire. Not just for you two, but for the world, even if they didn’t know her yet. 

You followed Joel’s gaze toward Ellie. She’d become totally engrossed in de-barking the tree you’d left her in front of, now using her blade to remove thick slabs of it like she was performing surgery. She must have found a bug because at one point she yelped, tossing a piece of bark like it had burned her and frantically wiping her hands on the knees of her jeans. The sight of the world’s greatest hope frightened by a bug made you and Joel chuckle in unison. 

“Kids deserve to be kids, even in this fucked up world,” you told Joel. Eddie used to say that to you when you’d worry about Gabriel. “Best thing we can do is keep her safe and let her be a kid as long as we can.” 

Joel chewed on your reply for a moment before turning away, a bit of the tension fading from his face. You knew it would take Joel a while to adjust to the news of who Ellie was. You and Ellie had filled him in on the crucial details while you’d been restocking at the daycare. Joel hadn’t said much: he’d just taken it all in with reserved seriousness. After you’d all refilled your packs, Joel had used one the walkie talkies to get in touch with Marlene. He stayed up almost the entire night, arguing back and forth with her in hushed tones from the hall where he’d put himself on watch. You’d been so exhausted that you’d slept through most of it, along with Ellie, in one of the classrooms. By the time morning came, Joel told the two of you that going back to the QZ wasn’t an option, and that Marlene wasn’t healthy enough to rendezvous with you. It was up to you now to get Ellie to where she was going. The weight of that responsibility should have felt impossible, but knowing you had help to carry it eased the burden considerably. 

You sidled closer to Joel, your uninjured hand searching until your fingers intertwined with his. His hand was warm and strong. He squeezed yours gently, shooting you as close to a happy smile as you’d probably ever get out of Joel Miller.  The sight made your heart stutter a little in your chest. You laid your cheek against his shoulder, nuzzling the rough fabric. You felt Joel take an inhale next to you, exhaling as his shoulders relaxed slightly and his chin came to rest on top of your head. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply.

For a few moments, that was all there was. 

“If you two are done making eyes at each other, do you think we can get this show on the fucking road?” Ellie’s sarcastic voice cut the moment like ribbons. You jumped a little as you and Joel turned to face her, separating from each other reluctantly. She was leaning against a tree nearby with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“We weren’t making eyes at each other,” Joel chided. Ellie rolled her eyes dramatically in reply.

“Well, whatever you call that, it’s gross,” she announced. You caught Joel’s eye as he winked at you. 

“I figure we’re ready to head out,” you offered, letting go of the tender moment you and Joel had stolen. 

“We’ve got a stop to make first.” Joel gestured Ellie forward as he pulled a folded map out of the back pocket of his jeans. He handed one side of the map to you so he could gesture with his pointer finger to a small circle he’d drawn on its surface.

“Marlene mentioned a compound outside of Ottawa in an old government facility. In the early days, FDRA helped relocate a bunch of big-wig researchers up there. We don’t know what kind of shape it’s in, but that’s where she was angling to take you. It’ll take us… maybe four weeks on foot, three if we’re lucky.”

He traced the major highways inked onto the map between Boston and Ottawa with his finger.

“We won’t have to worry about snow, so that’s something at least,” you observed idly. Joel nodded in agreement. 

“If we move now, we can make it to Frank and Bill’s before it gets too dark.” Joel folded the map back into a neat square before tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. He walked over to where he’d leaned his pack against a tree, lifting it with easy strength and settling the weight on his shoulders.

“Who’re Frank and Bill?” Ellie asked eagerly. 

“Friends.”

“No one has friends these days,” she observed incredulously, earning a laugh from you.

“I have friends these days.”

“Friends and a girlfriend, apparently.”

You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks as you opened your mouth to argue. Before you could, you felt Joel wrap his arms around your neck and pepper your temple with exaggerated, loud kisses for Ellie’s benefit.

“Ugh! You’re gross, you know that? All this empty space in the world and I still have to watch your guys’ PDA!” 

Joel’s display had its intended effect. Ellie darted off into the woods, heading back towards the road the three of you had used to leave the city earlier that day. 

“Hey kid,” Joel called after her. His grip had loosened, but his arms still hung around your neck. You didn’t mind at all.

Ellie didn’t answer, throwing up a middle finger over her shoulder in response.

“You’re going the wrong way!”

You and Joel had to bite your lips to suppress giggles as Ellie did an abrupt about-face and came skulking back towards you. 

“I guess immunity from the infected doesn’t come with the ability to read a map, huh?” 

Joel released you from his arms, his fingers ghosting a trail across the back of your neck that sent shivers up and down your spine. He ruffled Ellie’s hair, earning another indignant complaint from her. 

You let the two of them walk a few steps ahead of you, enjoying the sounds of their teasing back and forth as you carved a path west towards the setting sun. Despite the unknown ahead, you felt a deep sense of calm settle over you. A soft smile turned up the corner of your lips, and for the first time in a long time, you felt completely alive...

thank you for reading!!!! i have been blown away by the positive reception on this series!! if you like my joel miller writing, feel free to shoot me a request <3

[greyias]

A few years ago, @confettininjabean bought me a copy of Sunless Seas as a Christmas present, but I'm a weenie when it comes to roughlikes and my OCs dying, so it took me until last week to start playing it. I figured I'd give it fifteen minutes and maybe my first captain death before I moved on to another game... and I'm on my fourth captain now

Since Sunless Seas is a Fallen London spinoff, I was somewhat familiar with the world already, but it had been long enough since I'd last played there was a lot of surprises/relearning, mostly just me getting jumpscared by the Lovecraftian atmosphere (a lot of which is the casual amount of cannibalism present). Sometime during the second captain's run I was like "fuck this, this is too stressful" and installed a mod that mitigated the frankly ridiculous micromanaging of food and fuel.

And none of this will make much sense to anyone who hasn't played this game, but still, let me present to you, my legacy of Steampunky captains, who have been furiously passing charts to each other right before their deaths mostly so I don't have to reopen the gd map every single time, as they have captured my attention this past week or so:

Captain #1 - Renley:

I think I subconsciously named him after "Renfield" in Dracula. In retrospect, this was probably a mistake. Renley was an excommunicated priest who's daddy was a zeecaptain who mysteriously died on the dark waters, and he went to zee to try and find his papa's bones. He started an affair with his surgeon at the first opportunity, and I never did find out why he got kicked out of the priesthood as he descended to cannibalism and ran out of food a few miles from shore. He died as forgotten as his daddy's bones, except for his apparent pen pal...

Captain #2 - Farris:

Bisexual disaster with a heart of gold. Grew up a street urchin, but apparently got too tall and was cast out from her crew, so she bought a ship with what she got from her last big score, determined to make enough as a zeecaptain to retire rich and comfortable. She insists everyone call her "my lady", not because she's actual nobility but more because one day she's sure she will be.

I fully expected her to go the Renley route and die very quickly, but she surprised me by like... making good decisions?? She somehow just barely survived to the end of my first night of playing, making several successful runs into the zee without me cheating. She accepted a deal for more food and fuel from a very shady individual before I logged off for the evening, but it wouldn't be enough for us to continue on. As I had grown a little fond of her scrappy ways, I installed the first mod so we didn't have to worry about her going full Renley. SHE THRIVED.

She opened up so much of the map, also struck up an affair with the surgeon on her ship (look, it gets lonely and scary on the zee), but then... actually fell in love with a sweetheart back in London on one of her return trips. A dapper, fancy fellow who gave her a locket, and just so happened to keep meeting her at the docks whenever she arrived back home. Slowly she started to accumulate enough funds that she was able to purchase a townhome--

--and then she accidentally sailed off the north side of the map, nearly died of terror at the North Pole, which somehow summoned evil Santa Clause to her residence who made her go zip all around the unterzee delivering, uh, something evil Santa Clause considered to be presents (I guess), which culminated in her using her blood to create a little child made of snow, which apparently evil Santa Clause immediately abandoned so Farris decides this is her kid now, because growing up a little street urchin she knows the feeling of abandonment, names him Boreas, and takes him back to London. But uh. He's made of snow. So he starts to melt.

And this damn game is so unforgiving, it gives you conflicting pieces of information, so by the time I realized I needed to sail south to a relatively close port to London (instead of all the way across the gd map like it led me to believe), this poor kid was melting in earnest, and Farris goes to talk to a devil, who's like "you can stop this child from melting and dying if you have xyz items". And I had xy items, but I had unknowingly sold off "z" component to free up room in my cargo hold. And "z" component is not a readily abundant resource, so I look this up on Google at some point, as the kid is like "LOOK MA, I'm getting shorter! :D" and leaving puddles across the deck. And there's supposed to be an island around here somewhere where I can just go get the two quantities of this resource I need to stop my icy boy from melting. Except the map is randomized, and nowhere I go can I find this gd island. Farris basically spends like 3-4 months of time in-game just sailing the open zees, her terror rising as she desperately tries to find some way to save this kid. And there's some point where I know there's not enough time to make it, and yet she can't give up...

...and eventually, somewhere in the south zee, while she's still trying to find this stupid island, she gets summoned to Boreas's side to hold his hand as he finishes melting away. And at this point, Farris is pretty done, and just sort of numbly goes about her business, ferrying around the zees. I think she returns to port one last time and seriously looks around her townhouse, considers retiring, but writes a will just in case, sees her dapper chap again, before setting off one last run. And she's sailing down the southern portion of the map, looking around one last time for that goddamn island because it's personal now, when the ship is set upon by what amounts to a swarm of super bats that have 400 health to her ship's 30 health. She desperately tries getting away, but in the end, the bat's sink her ship, and poor Farris, who paused her quest for wealth on a doomed mission to save a dying child, sinks to the bottom of the zee. And never sees her dapper chap again.

Captain #3 - Vestry:

A certifiable dumbass. No, seriously.

I'm a little numb at this point, and still mourning Farris, who I got way too attached to. Vestry is a natural philosopher who came to the the Neath, because she was just too edgy for the surface world. Her ambition was to become the London's greatest explorer, and so sailed literally everywhere without any consideration for anything. At this point I broke down and was like "fuck it", installed a second mod so I could have money and not scrape by constantly. Caused a few international incidents, created a few spy networks. She was constantly pushing her engines, which meant they kept exploding at the worst opportunity, and at one point had to limp across the entire map with a single crew member at a snail's pace. Somehow this did not scare off anyone she paid to fill back out the ranks of her crew. She did manage to open up a large portion of the map, and then saw the absolute most southern point of the world with foreboding menacing statues trying to warn her away and was like "ALL POWER TO THE ENGINES" and sailed off the map. Everything exploded and she died as she lived -- a dumbass to the end.

Captain #4 - Valeria:

Started off like Vestry with the same past and ambition, but quickly decided "you know what? Nah, I've got this map almost opened up, I'm going to settle a colony in this tiny patch of sunlight instead". She is still slowly growing her army, ferrying sailors across the sea by the dozens. I am terrified she's going to get her ship sunk by monsters and make me start over again, but she's managed to hold her own so far. If the game actually ends after she achieves her ambition and retires, she might be my last captain, because I don't think I have it in me again to open up this map after how long it's taken to get it this complete. Also, Valeria finally found that stupid goddamn island that tripped Farris up, so if evil Santa Clause rears his head again, we'll be able to save her baby boy this time around.

Anyway, all of this to say, Farris is somehow still living in my head rent-free, despite dying nearly a week ago. Since there are no actual character portraits in Sunless Sea, I decided to honor her by creating an approximation of what she could have looked like in a 3D program I'm trying to learn, posed and rendered her out, and then with a little photoshoppery and paintover in CSP have immortalized her in pixels:

RIP Farris - bestest urchin baby

You really, really tried, and almost made a good decision, but your greed for "one last run" got you in the end. One day, someone will kill those fucking bats for you.

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Gilgamesh, Son of Zantabraxus (Ch 1 of probably 3)

Summary: Twenty years ago, Queen Zantabraxus gave birth to twins. Twenty years ago, the queen's consort, Chump, took one of their children and vanished. Zantabraxus chose to let him go, to spare her second child. In one universe, Zantabraxus raised her daughter. In this one, she raised her son. Agatha joins the circus and meets Gil, who has almost as many secrets as Agatha does. They help each other get stronger, in unexpected ways. And maybe fall in love a little bit but they don't really have time to deal with all that right now.

Sequel to Zeetha, Daughter of Klaus; another very brief look a Wulfenbach twin trying to fill the other's shoes.

AO3 Link | Ch 2>

“Escaped from Castle Wulfenbach, huh? That’s pretty impressive.”

The speaker was a man about Agatha’s age, seated on a log next to a small fire, stirring a pot of something that smelled extremely appetizing. He had brown hair and bright eyes and filled a bowl from the pot before passing it to Agatha.

The motion made Agatha notice that he was wearing a sleeveless vest, which meant she got a good view of the muscles in his arms as he held the bowl out to her. He really was quite handsome, actually.

“Not hungry?” he asked, making Agatha start. She blushed and took the bowl, feeling the strangest sense of deja vu. Something about his smile felt so familiar, but she couldn’t figure out why.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it and sitting down beside him. His eyes flicked away and then back to her face, too quickly for her to tell what he’d been looking at.

“How’d you do it? From what I can tell, the Baron isn’t an easy man to get away from.”

“I had help,” Agatha said, stirring the contents of the bowl, which turned out to be some kind of stew. She took a bite, and was surprised to taste rabbit, instead of the undefineable mystery meat she had expected to be abundant in the wastelands.

“We have a saying back home: a friend is a good sword.”

“And where’s home?”

He waved a hand vaguely.

“A backwater, middle-of-nowhere that isn’t even near to anyplace you’ve heard of. My name’s Gil.”

“Agatha.”

Again his eyes flicked away and back, but this time Agatha figured out he was looking at her death ray. She managed to look a few inches to the left of the smile and see two swords in their scabbards strapped to his back. Oh dear. If he was supposed to protect the caravan and he decided she was a threat...

“What do you do here?” she asked, trying to sound innocuous.

“Forward scouting, protection. Sometimes I do sword tricks to warm up the crowd before a show. Your gun,” he blurted out, abruptly. “Did you build it yourself?”

“Oh, yes!” Agatha said, before she could catch herself. “Um, I mean—”

But Gil lit up in a way that made Agatha utterly incapable of thinking of a cover story.

Or much of anything, really.

“How does it work?” he asked, leaning in. “The orb at the end is the power source, obviously, but what about the rings here? And why one up at the top, too?”

“It holds the charge,” Agatha explained, her mouth moving without asking her brain, which was too preoccupied with drowning in Gil’s eyes. “The battery can only produce so much power at a time, so I have the three rings to store up the excess, which triples the output.”

“That’s brilliant!” Gil exclaimed. “But that gives a delay between pulling the trigger and firing, doesn’t it?”

Agatha began to feel slightly breathless. She’d never had a boy complement her death ray before.

“Yes,” Agatha said,“but that’s what the ring by the muzzle is for—”

“Oh, of course! A specialized conduit, to pull the energy towards the firing mechanism! That must take at least a second off—”

Gil’s mouth slammed shut, the color not so much draining from his face as fleeing it. He shot to his feet so abruptly it nearly bowled Agatha over.

“I have to go,” he said, and was gone so fast he left a dust cloud behind him.

His abrupt departure had caught the attention of a few people nearby; Agatha turned to a woman with masses of dark, curly hair and asked

“Did I say something?”

“No, it’s not you. He gets a little overwhelmed sometimes when he gets too excited. He’ll be fine in a few minutes—just do him a favor and pretend it didn’t happen. He gets embarrassed, y’know?”

Agatha felt a sharp pang in her heart and a sinking in her stomach.

“Yes,” she said, quietly. “I do know.”

It took four days of traveling with the circus for Agatha to get her courage up to approach Gil, and another two to find the right opportunity. It wasn’t that he was intimidating—indeed, he was quite approachable, perhaps too approachable—but this was a delicate conversation.

Agatha knew she wasn’t really qualified to be the one to have this conversation with Gil; even discounting her inexperience, this was something a mentor, a teacher, even a parent should be doing. But Agatha was sure that no one had ever sat Gil down and had this talk with him, maybe because there wasn’t anyone in his life to give it—and Agatha knew how much she would have appreciated anyone talking to her about it instead of leaving her to find out on her own.

At last she managed to find a moment where no one had given her a chore to do, and Gil was hidden away in his wagon, doing “Gil stuff”, as Lars had sardonically put it.

She didn’t have time to waste dithering, so she made herself walk straight up to the door and knock hard. It opened just enough for Gilgamesh to poke his head out.

“Agatha!” he said, with a smile.

“I was hoping to have a quick word. Well, maybe not so quick. A word, anyway.”

“Oh, sure. About what?”

Agatha hesitated.

“Can I come in?”

Panic, just a little, flashed in Gil’s eyes; he tried to hide it behind a frantic grin.

“Oh, psh, no, you don’t want to come in here, it’s a mess—”

“It’s sort of...private.”

Gil froze. His cheeks began to turn pink. He straightened up, pulling the door open slightly wider.

“Um. Wh—Uh. Private? That, uh, what um, kind of…of private? I mean, sure, bu—uh, but.”

Agatha pushed past him gently, into the dimly lit wagon.

“The door?” Agatha said.

“Yeah. The door,” Gil said, vaguely, shutting the door.

The flame in the lantern on the table was low; Agatha turned the knob to brighten it. Gil, immobilized by his shock, suddenly snapped out of it . He lurched forward, hand outstretched.

“No, wait—!”

The wagon was full of books. Every available inch of wall space was a shelf crammed with books of all sizes. There were books under the bed, books on the table—the curtain to the closet where Gil kept his clothes was half-open, and Agatha could see that there, too, were books.

On the table before her was a cuckoo clock, the back open to expose the inner workings. A set of mismatched tools lay beside it.

“Oh, wow,” Agatha said. “This is—”

Gil had shut his eyes and turned his head away. His expression was one of shame, his whole body tensed for—what? For her to attack him? Shout at him?

“Gil…?” she said.

“It’s just a hobby!” he burst out, desperately. “It doesn’t mean anything! I, I have a lot of spare time when we’re on the road! I don’t neglect my duties, I’m still a warrior, this doesn’t mean anything!”

“Gil, Gil, it’s okay! I’m not mad or anything.”

“Just disappointed, right?” he said, bitterly. Agatha blinked at him.

“Uh. No, not that either. I’m actually kind of impressed you managed fit all these books in here in the first place.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Gil snapped, bristling.

“I’m not making fun of you!” she said, bewildered by his anger. “Lots of people like books and clockwork. I like books, and clocks are about the only thing I used to be able to build that didn’t blow up.”

Gil folded his arms across his chest and looked away again, not ashamed this time, but still very tense. Agatha hesitated, and then reached out, touching his arm gently. He flinched, but did not pull away.

“Gil…This is what I wanted to talk to you about. When we first met, and we were talking about the gun—”

Gil flushed and turned away from her.

“It was nothing,” he said, angrily. “I just remembered I had something I needed to do, that’s all.”

“Olga says you get overwhelmed when you get excited—”

His face turned even redder and he shot her a glare.

“I think maybe you should go,” he said, icily.

“I know how it feels.”

“How what feels?” Gil asked, warily.

Agatha’s hand went to her throat, and once more some part of her brain was surprised to touch bare skin instead of the smooth metal of her locket.

“For as long as I can remember, I had these headaches. Any time I got really angry, or too excited, or thought too hard, the pain would come. Sometimes I’d even get them in my sleep. And it—it hurt,” she whispered. To her surprise, her eyes began to burn. “It hurt so much...”

And Uncle Barry had let it happen. Made it happen. She blinked hard, and drew herself up.

“So I understand what it’s like. When it would happen to me in front of people, I wanted to run away, too. Once it happened to me while I was asking a professor a question in the middle of a lecture hall in front of about five million people and I nearly threw myself out a window.”

Agatha gave him a reassuring smile, but Gil looked sad.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That sounds awful. But it’s not the same as what happens to me.”

“Not exactly,” Agatha agreed. “Yours doesn’t look like it hurts, but I still know how it feels to have your own brain humiliate you in front of people.”

A shy smile touched Gil’s lips.

“I guess you do. And I guess it’s still nice to know I’m not the only one in the world who knows it. I almost wish it was headaches,” Gil admitted, sitting down on his bed. Agatha shuffled a few books around and sat down on the window seat across from him.

“What happens?”

“I go insane,” Gil said, simply.

Agatha tried to remain still, even as her brain hollered I KNEW IT .

“If I don’t remove myself from the situation as soon as it starts, I get...I get dangerous. I forget about everything around me except what’s right in front of me. There’s this sort of burning feeling in my brain, except it doesn’t hurt. That’s the worst part,” he said to Agatha, his own eyes overbright. “I like it. It’s why I have to leave as soon as it happens; once it gets going, I don’t want to stop. It’s some kind of mania, it’s—”

“It’s the spark,” Agatha said, softly. Gil stared at her and then snorted.

“I am not a Spark,” he scoffed. “I’ve seen Sparks in action, they don’t act like I do. They come up with really crazy ideas, but they’re still aware of what’s going on around them. They don’t get lost in their own heads; they just get dangerously enthusiastic.”

“Some Sparks are like that,” Agatha acknowledged. “What you described is a fugue state. I’ve met a lot of Sparks, and I know that how a Spark acts in that state can vary. There are a variety of factors—personality, self-control, but mostly it’s how strong the Spark is. The stronger the Spark, the more overwhelming it can be.”

Gil shot to his feet.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do. I know exactly what I’m talking about. It happened to me when I built my death ray.”

Gil looked sharply at Agatha, but he only seemed angrier.

“I am not a Spark. I am a warrior. My mother is a warrior. My grandmother. My great-grandmother. I am a warrior, from a house of warriors; it is in my blood and my bones, it is everything I was born for and I! Am not! A Spark!”

“You can be both,” Agatha said, and she could see the words hit Gil like a fist.

The anger vanished, his face dropped, and in his eyes was a look so lost Agatha could have cried.

“I don’t know a lot about fighting,” Agatha said, “but even I can tell that you’re the greatest warrior I’ve ever seen. You’re a warrior and a Spark. You don’t have to choose, and acknowledging that you’re a Spark won’t change anything about you, because it’s already a part of you.”

S he took his hands in hers and squeezed gently.

“I’m sorry that anyone ever made you feel otherwise.”

She had no way of knowing, but that was the moment Gil fell in love with her. The lantern light seemed to make her hair glow, as if she was more real than anything else in the world. Her eyes were so wide and so gentle; her voice so kind as she said all the things he never knew he wanted—needed—someone to say to him. That it was alright. That he was alright.

“Agatha…”

A fist pounded on the door.

“Hey, Gil! You in there?”

They both jumped.

“Uh...Yeah, I’m here.”

“You seen Lars anywhere?”

“Not...not recently, no.”

“If you do, tell him I’m looking for him, would you?”

“Sure.”

They waited a few moments until Abner had left, hearts pounding, reeling slightly from the emotional whiplash. Agatha realized she was still holding Gil’s hands and dropped them, taking a step back and blushing.

“Um. Anyway, so. I hope that uh. Helps.”

Gil cleared his throat, folded his arms, unfolded them, put his hands on his hips, folded his arms again.

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Maybe we could build something together,” Agatha suggested, and blushed. “Y’know. So we can both get used to this Spark thing.”

“Get used to it?”

“I broke through when my headaches stopped—or maybe my headaches stopped because I broke through. It was just a couple weeks ago, so I’m still—”

Gil burst out laughing. Agatha took a step back in shock as Gil nearly bent double.

“A couple of weeks?” he exclaimed. “Seriously?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I thought you must have been a Spark for years! You made it sound like you were an expert and it turns out you barely know what you’re talking about!”

Agatha’s jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

Gil’s humor vanished, replaced by panic.

“N-No, I just meant that you don’t know a lot more than me but you’re really good at sounding like you think you’re an authority—No, wait, that’s, wait—”

“Sorry if I misled you,” she said, her voice so cold it had icicles.

“Wait, I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to—!”

“I hope my ignorance doesn’t make our conversation less helpful to you,” she interrupted. “Good day, Gil.”

Gil winced when she slammed the door, and sank back down onto the bed, burying his face in his hands.

“Me and my big mouth,” he moaned.

[candied-boys]

Luke's POV x F! Reader - Part 2

Warning: Dark Content!

Including but not limited to references to prostitution, child neglect and abuse, war and death, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, suicidal ideation, and historically accurate ages for relations. The dark content is almost entirely drawn from/same as Luke's route.

Themes: protection, hurt and comfort, mutual healing, learning to trust, letting yourself feel, and eventually giving into love. Everything is written from Luke's POV.

Part 1

Still sleepin’ eh? Must be tired from all she's been through these last few days. Guess I'll work on the chemise ‘til she wakes up…

Laying the fresh bread aside and spreading the newly bought fabric across the table, you begin patterning out a simple shift — front, back, two sleeves and two gussets — all from a single length of linen. A trifle given that you've been sewing your own garments since you were a child.

As you begin to absentmindedly stitch the bodice together, your thoughts drift back to last night. By the time you had managed to stem her tears there were only a few hours left until daybreak. Too riled up to fall asleep and too little time to bother forcing it with medicine, you instead sat by the crackling logs and contemplated what you'd gotten yourself into.

I already saw men from the brothel skulkin’ ‘round the neighbourhood this mornin’, just waitin’ for her to come out alone. I could scare ‘em off easy enough, but if I let her go back out there now, her old man’ll probably just sell her again. That's if the bastard found her first. When his moneylender hears she's been freed, no doubt he'll be after her too.

Yet you know you can't keep her here long. The second you complete your mission you'll finally be free from this empty shell of a body.

But there ain't nowhere she could go right now that could guarantee her safety except a nunnery, but those institutions are no better than the tyrannical nobles and royals we're forced to obey. The only difference is they make you swear a life of poverty along with unquestionin’ obedience. I didn't free her from prostitution just to send her to a religious prison. There's gotta be somethin’ else…

An hour or more passes while you're lost in thought until the gentle rustle of sheets draws your eyes from the seam between your fingers to the huddle of blankets she sits curled up under.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” you coax gently, noting the fear lingering in her gaze and posture. “Y’ hungry?”

She nods once, cautious and timid.

“Lemme just finish this up so y’ve somethin’ decent to wear and I'll fix breakfast.”

While you stitch the gussets into the sleeves her eyes trail cautiously around the unfamiliar room. From the fireplace in the corner and the cauldron hung there to the dresser behind her and the single item that sits atop it.

Her gaze lingers on the scruffy purple teddy bear, threadbare and patched, but she says nothing. To your relief, neither does she attempt to touch it. By the time you've finished up one arm, her attention has waned, now shifted to her feet. Again, she doesn't dare speak; she simply stares down at the socks hiding numerous bandages.

“Here y’ are,” you tell her in a hushed tone trying not to startle her from her daze. “I won't look while y’ change. I'll be over there cookin' breakfast, eh?”

A frantic nod is her only reply.

You busy yourself throwing leftover bits of smoked ham, cheese, milk, and eggs into the ceramic pot before placing it over the coals of last night's fire. With only one spoon and one fork you'll have to wait for the custard to thicken enough to use either utensil.

“Thank you… Luke,” you just barely hear a strained whisper over the fire.

As you turn around you see her wince when her feet touch the floor.

“Oh. Stay there a sec’.”

Shoving the table towards the bed you arrange it in front of her so she need not stand. Most of the cuts seemed shallow last night, but you'll have to watch for infection when you redress them. Heaven only knows what's on the floor of that brothel.

“Better?”

She nods, the look she wears not a smile by any stretch of the imagination, but not nearly as fearful as when she woke up.

“The chemise fit y’ alright?” you ask over your shoulder as you move back to the hearth.

“Yes. I'm sorry.”

“Hm? What for?”

“You had to go to so much trouble because of me. I'm not good for much other than cooking and looking after livestock… but I promise I'll try to pay you back somehow…”

Grabbing your only bowl, you fill it with your favourite pick-me-up. “I told y’, y’ don't have to earn y’r keep here, Honey,” you frown and hand her the drink.

“But…”

“Listen. I'm not a good guy, but that doesn't mean I'm some creep who wants to use y’ either. Nobody belongs in a place like that, but not many can be helped once they're in the thick of it… There was no reason to let y’ get dragged into that living hell…”

Not when y're so young and innocent like she was… Not when it could’ve been prevented…

With a reluctant nod she takes a cautious sip of your offering and the tension in her brow melts with the warmth.

“Good?” you query with satisfaction.

“Yes. What is it?”

“Warm milk and wild honey. It's good for calming the nerves. I've never met a problem honey can't fix.”

While you set the custard on the table and slice the bread thick to use in place of plates, she asks nervously, “So… what are you going to do with me if you don't actually want me…”

“Dunno yet. Y’ can't stay here forever, but if y’ try to start workin’ somewhere in town sometime soon I'm sure y'll end up back where y’ were last night. What with y’r old man owin’ as much as he does he'll no doubt haul y’ off and sell y’ again.”

By the time you look up from the cutting board you're too late to stop the tears that have pooled in her empty eyes from rolling down her cheeks. Hurriedly taking a seat on the bed next to her, you grab the milk from her shakey hands before it ends up on the floor and pull her into your arms right after.

You don't know what it's like to be sold by your own family, but the mere thought reminds you too much of growing up despised, losing the only thing you held dear in an instant, being hauled off half dead to an orphanage in another country, and learning quickly that you would only be as valued as you proved useful.

“Hey, hey. It's okay. Y're safe here. Y're never goin’ back there. It must’ve been terrifyin’, I know. I know,” you coo and stroke her back.

Beneath the thin chemise you can feel the welts where she was beaten and you remember the rope burn around her wrists.

“Y've been through a lot. It's okay to cry, but y’ don't have to be scared.”

From under your chin she slurs with a sob, “But where will I go? I'll never be safe! I promise I'll work hard! Please don't kick me out!”

“I'm not gonna throw y’ out, Honey. Look at me.”

Prying her up by the chin you make her meet your stern gaze.

“I'm not gonna do nothin’ that would put y’ back in danger. I'm gonna protect y’ ‘cause that's my responsibility after bringing y’ here last night. I chose this. Y’ don't have to trust me, and y're free to leave whenever y’ want. But ‘til we find y’ a new life where y’ can be safe I'm not abandonin’ y’, okay?”

Bottom lip trembling she looks anything but convinced, but in her riled up state nobody would hear reason. Who knows when the last time she ate was. So you keep one arm around her and reach for the spoon.

“C’mon. Let's get some breakfast into y’ ‘fore it gets cold,” you coax and bring a bite to her mouth.

When she meekly accepts the offer you're quick to reward her with praise. “Good girl. Think y’ can eat by y’rself?”

Though she takes the spoon, you stay at her side and keep her in your embrace until you've both polished off your bread and eggs. With a warm meal inside her she certainly looks less gaunt. When you rise to clear the table you hear her ask timidly if she could wash the dishes.

“Maybe when y’r feet’ve healed and y’ can stand without pain, hm?”

Wrapping your patchwork quilt around her once more and curling her knees into her chest again she watches you tidy up.

“What's all that?” she queries so quietly you almost can't hear her over the rustle of the fabric you're busy spreading out over the floor.

“Wool for y’r dress,” you answer over your shoulder as you begin patterning out the pieces with chalk.

“Hope y’ don't mind the colour. I got yellow ‘cause I figured the bright colour might cheer y’ up.”

“I've… never had new clothes…”

“It won't be nothin’ fancy, but it'll at least be comfortable.”

“Thank… you…”

She sits in silence after that, looking on while you cut out the pieces from the yards of fabric. Only when you start backstitching the bodice together does she speak again.

“How did you learn to sew so well?”

“When y’ live on y’r own y’ learn how to do everythin’. I make all my own clothes. This little guy too,” you answer and nudge the tiny bear tied to your holster.

You catch a glimmer of light in her eyes for the first time as she stares at the creature dangling from your chest.

“Did you make the one over there too?” she asks and looks at the worn out teddy sitting on your dresser.

“Yeah,” you answer quickly and immediately change course. “Can y’ sew?”

“Um… Sort of... I've never patterned, but I can patch.”

“Can y’ baste the skirt?”

She nods hesitantly and you pass her the length of vibrant colour.

The morning ebbs into noon quietly, words only exchanged as needed, yet with every passing hour you notice she seems more at ease than the last. Her features soften as her focus shifts from internal anxieties to keeping her stitches even.

“There's still some fabric left. You want a bonnet to match or somethin’?” you ask when you finish attaching the skirt to the bodice.

“Actually… could I have a little bear?” she replies, her knees once again up in her chest.

“You don't want somethin’ to match the dress?”

Apprehensively balling herself up tighter, like you might lash out at her for wanting something else, she mumbles, “Um... A little bear would be much nicer to hold at night.”

Comfort and protection…

That was the story Leyla told you of the bear who helped the lost girl in the woods…

That was all she ever asked for… and you couldn't even manage that in the end…

“Sure, I'll make it after lunch?” you offer, a mix of emotions hazing over your eyes.

A sheepish smile from behind her knees is her single reply.

Part 3

[lndslorepuzzler]

World Underneath: Sealed In Dust

Part 01: Whispers

A young man in a duckbill hat and an older man in a raincoat exchange verbal barbs and a briefcase that still smells like an explosion; the older man (who has been watching EVER) is careful not to touch it with his bare hands as he opens it to expose 4 pieces of yellowed paper.

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Part 02: "Unicorn"

Subject Anomalies Record (directly transcribed) Recorder: Josephine, Gaia Research Center, Unicorn Team, Researcher/Team Leader Date: Observation No.5, Day 42 Anomalies: Subject 001 regained vital signs after death. Details: Subject 001: Female, Evol: Anhaunsen Class Day 41 of Observation: 2:00AM For reasons unknown (suspected to be a researcher's mishandling of the subject,) the subject's energy values rapidly increased and peaked at 2:39AM. It resulted in a powerful energy burst within her body (no casualties or equipment was damaged.) All vital signs disappeared after the explosion. Day 42 of Observation (Today): 4:00PM Vital sign monitors suddenly restarted and slowly transmitted data again. Heart rate, breathing, and brain activity resumed. Not only did Subject 001 appear to be alive again, but energy values also returned to normal. A comprehensive physical examination revealed a newly created, unidentified substance in her heart.

Experiment Notes (summary): Josephine is of mixed emotions about the event; if the thing in the subject's heart is an unknown element, "then what kind of existence is she?" The group collectively decide to tall the element Aether, and thus the object in the subject's heart is called an "Aether Core." It is quietly determined that the only way to study the subject's 'resurrection' is to kill her again, to see if the subject wakes up. She calls the subject a "unicorn." Josephine finds herself unable to give a vote of approval for the process, despite believing that Subject 001 "holds too many secrets that are worth researching and carries an unpredictable amount of energy;" she "still can't ignore that (Subject 001) is a child."

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Part 03: Observation Log (summary)

Observer: Josephine Entry No. 1 They have taken to calling the girl Unicorn. After her 'resurrection,' all memories and cognition of her previous 'life' was erased; though she is able to pick up, absorb, and understand information far above the capabilities of her peers. Entry No. 2 The girl uses the Resonance Evol unconsciously. Entry No. 3 The voting results result in the beginning of experiments to kill Unicorn in an observation unit. The energy is agitated to the point where it burst, and Unicorn 'dies.' She wakes up again, and the energy of the Aether Core is even stronger than it already was. Josephine is begins to struggle with emotional attachment to the subject.

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Part 04: Post-Catastrophe Journal (summary)

Day 49, Post-Chronorift Catastrophe, Sunny The Gaia Research Center was destroyed, and Subject 001 was lost. Josephine found her in a shelter, and the girl called her 'Grandma,' though she'd never learned the term, and didn't appear to recognize her. Josephine brings her home. Day 75, Post-Chronorift Catastrophe, Sunny The little girl is still with Josephine. "Her memory is like a faint signal, intermittent and sometimes wavering." She continues to take care of her. *1

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Part 05: Journal Entry 4 (summary)

Day 134, Post-Chronorift Catastrophe, Sunny Josephine has been unable to get into contact with any of the researchers she worked with. She wonders about the intents behind EVER's research and investment. The only person she's found is Dr. Noah, and the data after the girls checkup shows her energy at half of what it used to be. The girl doesn't communicate anything about her experience in the Chronorift Catastrophe; she was alone the whole time. Josephine thinks that "maybe forgetting isn't such a bad thing for (the girl.)"

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Part 06: Dust (summary)

Duckbill feels Raincoat has more than enough information to "confirm her identity and role." Raincoat commends Duckbill for "(silencing) Josephine," and gives Duckbill a vial of some kind of drug. Raincoat gives the briefcase back, and tells Duckbill to watch the smell; Duckbill tells him to watch his handkerchief, since he'll be implicated, too. He asks when Raincoat's people intend to make their move, and Raincoat tells him there's no rush.

Conversation: (Edited as dialogue-only)

"Your Prince Shen Xinghui has been glued to her side watching over her, right? I've been curious for a while. Do people still practice feudalism where you're from? Isn't that regression in a sense?" "Hmph, Shen Xinghui can only guard her for so long. He's too busy dealing with his own issues... Don't say I didn't warn you. It's not just EVER who wants her. Strike first to gain an advantage." "The one who strikes first is helping her cultivation. If you can get rid of Shen Xinghui in the process, you'd be doing us a big favor. Isn't internal struggle your specialty? Kill Shen Xinghui and let EVER crown you as a prince. Haha--" "I can't kill Shen Xinghui, but I can do more than deal with a two-legged, carbon-based monkey like you." "You... Kill me, then. But how long can you survive in this era?" "Tell your masters they better get their hands on her fast. Based on my experience, her existence isn't as simple as the observation records suggest. If you keep stalling, EVER will end up losing more than they bargained for once she develops."

Raincoat ruminates that the drug Duckbill just took has an additional substance in it, used to "control" him. The goal is to "control" Shen Xinghui: his Evol is feeding into Unicorn's, using his love for her to EVER's advantage.

"Letting his lightblade serve her and becoming the strongest weapon in her hands is something the Resonance Evol can easily achieve. Shen Xinghui will surely give her every bit of himself... Love truly is a wonderful thing."

.

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*1, The text reads, "It's always just been me at home. But with her and... /Things have started to change." That ellipsis haunts my dreams. *2, Unsure if this is the same backtracker Shen Xinghui merc'd in Galactic Sunset: Desecrated Soil.

I'm not sure if this is the same Raincoat as World Underneath: Long Lost Treasures, though I'm pretty sure it's not.

This section also confirms that Shen Xinghui/Backtrackers are from the future (though not necessarily the same 'timeline.')

And, for anyone wondering, 'anhaunsen' is essentially a root word for 'enhance.'

[martyr-19]

{"guardian_login": "Martyr-19" [”ghost”: “Prophet”]}

{“id": "0139"}

{"title": "Bio:Martyr-#"}

{"type": "bioshare"}

{"created": "####-##-##”}

{“updated”: “####-##-##”}

6/6

Snippets of Martyr-19’s Guardian profile—

MARTYR-#

{“guardian": "Martyr-19"}

{“ghost": "Prophet"}

{“status”}} > active

{“stationed”}} > “data-unavailable”

> [warlock, exo]

First Vanguard Note>>

[####-##-##] > IR “Continues to struggle with mastering advanced void abilities. I have concerns about his readiness for the battles ahead, and recommend additional training time before further field deployment.”

Last Vanguard Note>>

[####-##-##] > IR “Planning on how to approach the Pale Heart when the time comes. Updates to follow.”

-

-

Fireteam {1} Insight>>

[####-##- ##-] {“year 1”}

{B}} TALK MORE!! You’d swear he’s mute, then scares you half to death when he gives input.

{V1}} Excellent control! Bright mind! Must be a better team-player!

{S3}} Great crowd control. Decently accurate with scout rifles— avoid shotguns entirely. Keep on backlines, only push to front when healing or using an auto rifle.

{L}} Says he has a bit of a memory problem, but I think he’s doing great! Ask about his sketches— brightens up instantly!

{K}} Not sure what’s scarier, his horrible aim with a hand cannon or how much more violent his novas have gotten.

Fireteam {1} Insight>>

[####-##- ##-] {“year 2”}} “last recorded”

{B}} You were one of us, too. Don’t forget it, yeah?

{V1}} You’ll be alright, I know you will.

{S3}} You have no right to mourn either of them.

{L}} [no comment available]

{K}} [no comment available]

-

-

Latest Guardian Report>>

{OverviewAccess}

{“attached-details”>hidden}

“Energy signatures emanating from the Traveler are only becoming more violent. It’s like…pain. It could be fighting whatever corruption the Witness is inflicting within. Waiting for Crow is the only option we have, I’m not taking my eye off of things. Remaining in direct contact with Mara Sov— comm channel is active 24/7 and open to Vanguard and all appropriate personnel. Transferring data collection every hour.

Ready to take action the moment we have our way in.”

-

-

I worry.

Despite my detachment in many of these logs, I do harbor a genuine care.

I care for everyone across Sol.

However, it mostly lies with my Guardian.

He is mine.

He is my responsibility.

Mine to worry for. Mine to care for. Mine to support. Mine to guide.

Mine to love.

He is a child. He is my child. He is what I brought into this world.

I searched so long for him.

I thought I would never find him.

But I did.

And then suddenly, I felt as if I had found myself and a stranger all at once. I felt as if I had known him for an eternity and yet I couldn’t wait to meet him. I could feel our path, every single beautiful and horrible branch of it— and never once was I afraid. I knew we would have each other. I knew that would be enough.

When you share the same Light— the same soul— it is impossible to sever. Part of you will always be a part of them.

I’ll be with him till the very end.

Light or Dark.

Win or lose.

I am his. He is mine.

[tadcccallmyocs]

[lore] project "child spawn system" last log 3

Content warning, major character death, gore kinda.

[audio start playing in the void]

*Gunfire is hear in the background, some people were pleading and screaming too*

??? “... H-hi mom… if you are hearing this… or I'm dead or inside a machine, they are literally killing the project, a shipping of special headset were Lost, and and just an hour ago a civilian was log in the server… I'm hiding in my lab”

*Sounds of machinery and cables are hear moving in the floor*

??? “T-they active the amnesia server mode, but Storky is different, she has a special code that will allow me to remember… oh [#$ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ!%]”

Guard 1 “leave the headset down miss [deleted], there's no way out of this”

??? “...” a sound of something throwing was heard and them a gunshot.

Guad 1 “aw [#$ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ!%]”

*Some boots were hear coming inside the lab*

Guard 2 “do you find the lead developer? Oh… did she put the headset before or after you shoot her?”

Guard 1 “before… at least her AHH!” the guard fall to the ground and sound of desperate moves were hear.

Guard 2 “the half for her head was digitalize… the brain is not inside gross”

Guard 1 “t-then s-she is inside?”

Guard 2 “part of her, not all her soul at least, she probably be corrupted and the system will keep her brain alive and protected… this never happened ok, if our bosses find out she is in Storky we are Dead”

Guard 1 “believe me, I don't want that either… what do we do with the body?”

Guard 2 “we need to… is that a digital recorder?”

Guard 1 “oh sh…”

[Recording ended abruptly]

Kiaaa “hmmm… what a waste of potential… such a waste… what do you think about it?

Coiom is crying and look at the thing that force him to hear this logs.

Coiom “THEY MURDER HER! WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M THINKING, THOSE BASTARDS KILL A WOMAN… STORKY PHYSICAL BODY!”

Kiaaa “yes… they did it… do you want to leave the circus in a future?”

Coiom “[#$ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ!%] NO!... I'm not going to leave her… not now not even… even if I have to find a way to not abstract to be with her”

Kiaaa “good response Coiom, you can go back”

*Coiom disappear from the void back to the circus*

[Log files 1 2 3.]