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#i think even in his canon a main struggle would be him trying to find any reason to keep him away from just sleeping until the universe die
skunkes · 5 months
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when you mentioned that talon takes up sex in the comic w/o elaborating much i immediately understood it was an instant gratification/desire for a quick touch without getting involved in the "mess" of love bc i did a similar thing with my oc and its genuinely SO cool to see someone else do it and mention specifically because its out of a deep seeded fear of getting too attached but still wanting some sort of touch bc they literally like. cant live without it for too long. i love it im chewing on talon
YEAS....im considering rewriting/reuploading that whole panel because in my need to not be a weirdo and unnecessarily go into depth on a characters abuse, i ended up being rly vague in the parts where I couldve explained more, but Im glad someone understood even before my clarification ^_^
(harder with talon as no matter how much he tells himself he'll never risk losing anybody again, he's very quick to get attached. Desperate for a home, a family, to curl up around something warm and kind)
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atlasofthestaars · 7 months
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[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .004
first part | previous part | next part
Note: I often try to plan out plot points while I’m at work, and I was like wow! I get why Kronika went insane because trying to keep all these plot points (especially the parts where I plan on diverging from canon) logical is wild.
This is the first chapter that doesn’t follow any of the main campaign events at all, so it was a bit more of a struggle to write for, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! There will be more chapters of this, building up the much needed foundation for the champions squad. Don’t worry Lin Kuei fans, there will be a few more Lin Kuei moments too during these times, allowing us to see them again before they disappear for a while during the tournament arc!
Shang Tsung deliberation is up until a week from when chapter 3 was released/aka when the tumblr poll ends. 
Otherwise, I will accept any wants for any other love interests until we get closer towards the Outworld arc since I’m pretty sure all Earthrealm men are already confirmed.
For example, someone asked for Reiko, so here’s a poll for him to gauge interest, AO3 fans, please comment on your thoughts for him!
FROM THE EYES OF ONE WHO HELPED TRAIN SOME NEW CHAMPIONS
Turns out, thinking about the things that worried you leads to overthinking.
Pacing back and forth in your room, you felt the cool wood under your feet. With how much you paced around the room, you were surprised the wood had not been ruined at this point. You paused in your pacing and you looked outside the window to look at the moon. 
You were never a good sleeper, finding it hard to sleep at night. But oddly enough you always found yourself awake for the sunrise due to routine. You often found naps were a good supplement for your tiredness, but some days you would suffer being awake without much rest.
Your memories buzzed around your head too much to rest easy. You paced back and forth once more for a few more minutes until you stopped at the door of your room, briefly considering going and seeing whether Liu Kang could help ease your troubled mind.
Your hand laid upon the handle, the metal knob cool to the touch. Goosebumps trailed up your arm as you stared at the doorknob. You tried to will yourself to move. To finally speak with Liu Kang about the memories that weighed upon you, to free yourself of this silly burn that you brought about upon yourself.
Unfortunately, you could not bring yourself to step outside your door.
You were too racked with guilt to do that.
You were afraid of the idea that you would slip up and mention the many other memories you had recovered, the timeline you were beginning to piece together, and Liu Kang would begin to realize this. You were afraid of upsetting the man who most generously took you in and allowed you to stay by his side despite your odd past.
You did not want to ruin the good thing you had going for yourself.
Your hand dropped from the doorknob. Sighing, you walked over to a particular floorboard and carefully lifted it up. You reached inside and pulled out the leather bound diary that you had found on yourself when you first awoke in this world. Along with it was a pen that somehow, despite the years, had not run out of its smooth ink.
This was your only confidant in the memories you had. Moving towards your desk, you adjusted the lantern in your room to hang over the desk, giving you more light to work with. You stared at your words, trying to look at what you recalled.
Your memories seemed to be linked with those you interacted with, so the Lin Kuei and Liu Kang and the memories surrounding them were the strongest. Even still, you had holes in what should be completed memories. Meeting the new people seemed to patch some of them up, though.
You sighed as you skimmed the pages. They were mostly short phrases describing what you remembered from these brief memories. It was hard to keep them in order since they were random and never in order whenever you got them.
You picked up the pen, spinning it with a flourish before you began to write.
Kung Lao, a cocky monk of the Shaolin with a razor hat. Once was friends with Liu Kang. Seems now he is a farmer and friends with Raiden.
Raiden, Thunder god. Seems to have once been what Liu Kang is now. Mortal now, and a farmer of Fengjian with Kung Lao.
Johnny Cage, actor. Was with Sonya Blade and had a kid. Still an actor, has a different wife, and no kid. 
Kenshi Takahashi, once a blind swordsman with telekinesis and telepathy with a magic sword. Had a kid. Now seems that he has his vision, uncertain of abilities.
You sighed as you put down your pen, staring at the words in front of you. You tried to will yourself to conjure any memories you had of these men previously from just their name. Unfortunately, this just gave you a headache…and not the kind that gave you any helpful memories.
“Damn.” You muttered leaning back in your chair. You had never had control of your memories, even after all these years. They were rather inconvenient and useless, since they rarely gave you any insight on the ones you meet. They’re all so different.
The only constant was their names.
You closed your eyes as you thought of the four men you had written down. Who were they? What was their connection to you? You sighed as you rubbed your forehead, trying to ease the headache you had accidentally given yourself.
Ah shit, you were in charge of training them, weren’t you? Or at least, somewhat.
They were going to be a headache in more ways than one, it seemed.
“So, how, exactly, am I to train the four?” You inquire as you glance over to Liu Kang, briefly noting the way the sunlight landed on his features. It was another morning of watching the sunrise with the fire god. You had gotten a few hours of sleep, at least, before rising to meet up with Liu Kang as usual. A few hours was better than nothing.
You had started off quiet, before natural conversation hit the both of you. You discussed many things, mostly the events of the past few days, before the conversation naturally landed on the new recruits. You found out that they were going to be arriving at the Wu Shi academy in a few days time, giving them enough time to get their life sorted out before they drastically change theirs.
The god looked over to you. It seemed like he had been expecting this question, and you wondered just how easily he could read you. 
“You are to simply oversee their training and test their skill. I know you are not all too familiar with the teaching of the monks, so they shall handle the bulk of it.” He explained, and you found yourself sighing with relief. “Not to mention, I shall also assist when I am able.” You were not ready to have to handle training four grown men, so hearing that you were mostly there to test them was great.
You were good at fighting, at least. It was a skill that people often commended you for. 
Madam Bo often praised you as one of the best she had sparred with. The old Lin Kuei’s grandmaster often found value in the practice you gave his sons. You would never admit it, but you prided yourself on these compliments. 
“That’s good.” You remarked, feeling your shoulders relax. You returned your gaze to the rising sun and the pretty colors that were painted in the sky. You paused, deliberating over the next words that were to leave your mouth. “Why me?” You asked, your voice almost shy. That question had been haunting you ever since you found out about this arrangement back in Fengjian.
“Because I can trust you.” Liu Kang began, his voice filled with certainty. You felt a pang of guilt, your gaze dropping to your hands. Your mind screamed with how you were unworthy of his trust with the memories you found yourself unable to confide in him with. “And I know you will provide a healthy challenge to them.” You chuckled at his words, pushing out the voice that whispered in your head.
“Why are we recruiting these people so late?” You inquired, asking another question that had been bugging you for a while now. You were glad that Liu Kang was a benevolent god, and never seemed to mind your questions. “Would it not be more wise to recruit them earlier since the tournament is mere months away?” 
“Had we sought them before, none of them would be ready.” Liu Kang answered wisely, and you hummed. You knew better than to ask how he knew this, despite the years together there were some things you knew he kept secret, and his innate knowledge was one of those things. You supposed it was just a godly thing.. “It is only until now that an opportunity presented itself.”
“And so you decided that I was one of the best options to train them within a few months?”
“Indeed.”
“You have a lot of confidence in me, Liu Kang.” 
“Should I not?” The god questioned. The tone in his voice surprised you, and you looked over to him instinctively. You were surprised to see such a strong look of confidence on his face. Gently, he put a hand on your shoulder. His thumb rubbed your shoulder comfortingly. Through your clothes and his hand wraps, you felt the comfort of his warmth.
“No, you should.” You said, your voice filled with a bit more confidence. You looked at his face, feeling oddly proud of yourself to have earned the god’s confidence. He nodded, seeming content with the shift in your attitude. “I shall do my best.” You said, bowing for the man.
“I know you will.”
“How are you boys doing?” 
Striding into the courtyard of the Wu Shi academy, you looked at the four recruits. You noted how each of them wore the uniform, and how it all seemed to fit them, more or less. You walked with confidence in front of them, imbued with the words you had been given before from Liu Kang. 
All of them were various degrees of exhaustion. Not surprisingly, the actor seemed to be having it the roughest. He was still fine, but it was easy to tell he was the most winded out of the four. You assumed his luxurious lifestyle had something to do with it.
You sucked in a breath as you fought the massive headache these four were giving you. Being stuck with overseeing their training, you assumed you’d be having this feeling a lot. It was no matter, you’d simply sleep it off right now.
Strangely enough, despite the intensity of the headache, you were unable to glean any memories easily. Probably something to do with so many people trying to resurface at once.
“Training has been rigorous, but enlightening.” Raiden replied, his face flush from exertion, and you noted how out of the four he was one of the ones faring a bit better. You assumed it was because he wasn’t underestimating the monks’ intense lessons. You smiled at him, nodding.
“Good, as it should be.” You said, humming as you clasped your hands behind your back, observing them all. Despite their tired state, you could tell they were at least eager. “As Lord Liu Kang has said, I will be partially in charge of your training.” You grinned at them, seeing them perk up at your words. “Today will be a…benchmark to see where your skills lie.”
“Who exactly are you again?” Johnny asked, still hunched over slightly, hands on his knees as he looked up at you. You saw the slight glares from the others, probably because they saw his words rude. He put up his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t get a proper introduction like you guys did.” He defended himself.
“Don’t worry, I don’t take offense.” You chuckled, shaking your head. You said your name, clearly and loudly so the others made sure what it was. “I’m a companion of Lord Liu Kang, and he has entrusted me with overseeing your training.” You explained before clearing your throat. “I’m not one for lectures, so I’ll get right to it, who wishes to go first?” 
The four looked amongst themselves, seeming to deliberate amongst themselves silently on who would face this challenger they’ve never seen fight. You let out a silent chuckle, wondering how they sized you up. Eventually, you watched as Kung Lao strode up to take the challenge. 
“Let me show the others how it’s done.” He declared, seeming confident. You saw the small smirk on his lips, and in return you smiled graciously at him. You gestured for the others to step to the side, and you watched as a few of the monks gathered around to watch. The monks were no stranger to your fighting prowess.
“Bold.” You commended, nodding as you walked into place with Kung Lao, settling into the all too familiar fighting pose that you were familiar with. You watched as he mimicked your actions, settling into his as well. “Now, allow me to show you why I was entrusted with this task.”
You watched as Kung Lao approached, confidence in his strides. Almost too confident. You held a defensive position. The point of this test was to gauge their abilities, so acting on the defensive first would allow you to see what their confidence and skills on the offense were like. 
As he swung the first punch, you blocked it with ease. You supposed it was a bit unfair, having already known what Kung Lao’s fighting style was like after watching him in the teahouse along with the bits of memories you had of him. You allowed him to attempt to break your defense more, noting how he had a strong emphasis on his punches with their quick nature.
You had to commend him on his confidence, he knew he was a strong fighter. The farmer had a lot of potential.
It wasn’t until his major slip up with throwing a rather risky punch that you decided that it was time to go on the offensive. Ducking under the move, you went for a sweep, knocking the man off his feet. You waited until he got back up before you grabbed him. Taking him off his guard, you brought him close as you winded your leg back.
As you sent the kick flying into his stomach, you transformed your leg into that of a secretary bird’s, allowing you to put even more power than you would have normally.
“Holy shit!”
You disregarded the actor’s exclaim as you watched Kung Lao fly back, tumbling from the strike. As he stumbled up, he seemed surprised before hesitantly approaching once more. This time, he utilized more caution as he swung at you, trying to even employ the technique of grabbing you like you had. Easily you shoved him back, retaliating by whirling around and transforming yourself to have a kangaroo’s tail which you swung at him with.
This back and forth went on for a bit, with Kung Lao being easily fended off by you before he eventually conceded, calling for surrender.
“You fight well.” You commend, bowing towards Kung Lao. He did the same as he panted, nodding as he caught his breath. You stood up to look at him as he gestured towards you, a look of awe on his face.
“I am amazed at your transformation skills.” The farmer admitted, looking at you up and down with amazement as he continued to catch his breath. “Is it possible to learn that?” He asked, almost too eagerly as he walked over to the side to rest up.
“It is a skill I was born with, so unfortunately I cannot teach you.” You told him, grinning as you held out your arm to transform it into a bear’s with its claws out. “I have the ability to transform any part of my body, and all of me, into an animal.” You explained as you transformed your arm back as easily as you had changed it.
“Now, who is next?” 
You causally stood there, only having barely broken a sweat as they stood to the side, catching their breath. A pleased look appeared on your face as you crossed your arms, noting how they each fought. Today you had gone easy on them, being more defensive than your usual aggressive fighting style. You surmised they’d only have a few bruises each because of this. You tried to stay away from anything that would rip and tear.
Honestly, your memories had been helpful for once. They helped clue you in on the fighting style of each man, the odd exception being Raiden who felt pretty different than the man you remembered. It was nice to know what to expect, unlike the first time you had fought the Lin Kuei in training…
Kung Lao had been interesting, being the most confident in his strikes and fighting style. That matched with his speed allowed you to see where he truly shone in his fighting. Taking defense against him was a challenge due to how swiftly he struck, but being able to defend well proved useful as you could counter him when he was left vulnerable after a failed attempt at breaking your defense.
You hummed, recalling how this version of the man lacked the iconic razor hat you remembered. You wondered briefly if you should suggest it to him, or if it’d be odd. You also noticed how despite his confidence in this life, he was at least a bit more humble than when you remembered him last.
Johnny Cage had been unique, his fighting style more flashy and all in than what you were used to. It felt like it should be impractical from just watching it, but the man made it work somehow. He also had interesting evasion, which almost took you off guard. You think you could definitely work with it, especially teaching him how to better evade the opponent since he seemed to grasp that concept well already.
Your eyes looked over to Kenshi. Kenshi had been odd to train with since he wielded a sword, and it felt like he had the most experience in fighting. Your eyes trailed down to his hands, noting the tattoos that littered his hands. You remembered how Liu Kang had briefed you in on his past. A yakuza…that explains the calculated way he fought. 
You wondered if you’d ever have to deal with the telekinesis you remembered he had in his past life.
Raiden had been the most different from his past life. In both his fighting since he lacked the lightning powers you remembered so strongly, and how he carried himself. He was not as confident as you hoped, despite the obvious skill he had.
You’d have to work on that with him.
“Excellent work for day one with me.” You congratulated, causing the four men to look at you with varying degrees of confusion. You guessed they thought they had done not so well due to how you had battled them off easily. “As I said, this is a benchmark, so I know now how to best advise where to take your training, especially since the tournament is mere months away.” 
“That was a benchmark?” Johnny Cage asked, sending you a disbelieving look. He had been one of the ones you had ended up fighting the most before he conceded. He had been stubborn against you, and you don’t know whether that was foolish or something to be commended for. Maybe it was both. “You kicked our asses.” You chuckled as you grinned at him.
“Did you expect anything less from someone who is allowed to stand by the Fire God’s side?” You asked, a hint of playfulness in your tone before you observed them once again. “We’ll meet again tomorrow after your training with the monks. For now, you are all dismissed.” You said, bowing towards them, your hands forming a fist into your palm similarly to how Liu Kang does. 
You turned around, intending to go back to the Fire Temple for a well deserved nap, especially since the headache was getting nearly unbearable at this rate. Then, you heard your name being called. Turning around with a raised eyebrow, you watched as Johnny jogged to catch up with you.
Your head pounded as he neared, but you at least felt some relief as you felt a few more memories resurface.
You recalled how he had been very, very arrogant as a younger man. He had brazenly had his name tattooed across his chest, and for a moment you allowed your head to dip to his chest, curious if he still had it in this life. Somewhere, after what you could only remember a big event as a tragedy, you remembered he mellowed out. 
You wondered how this one’s attitude laid on those scales.
“You know, you’d be a hit in Hollywood.” He told you, his breath still heavy with exertion. You raised an eyebrow, surprised at his words. You weren’t all too familiar with what he was talking about, but you assumed it had to do with his acting background which you vaguely remembered.
“Really?” You asked, holding back a chuckle as you looked at him with amusement. Even across the world, he was still thinking about his acting career. “What makes you say that?” You inquire, deciding to entertain his thoughts. 
“People dig animals,” The actor started off, gesturing to you, “and not to mention how much you’d be valued there for being able to act as any animal?” He continued, acting as if he were trying to sell you on the offer. “Directors would be hitting you up left and right.” You felt yourself grin a bit more at his praise, but reminded yourself not to get caught up in his flattery.
“Are you implying I’d only be adored for my animal side? And not my own charisma?” You asked with faux offense, deciding to try and tease Johnny. You were surprised how he didn’t even flinch at your words and smoothly replied.
“Nah, you got that and more.” The actor admitted, shrugging as he pointed at you. “but it’s not often people meet an animal shapeshifter.” He pointed out with a nod, making you nod. “So if anything is your claim to fame, it’s that.”
“You’re interesting, Cage.”
“So I’ve been told.” The man replied wittily as he grinned at you, eagerness shining in his eyes. “So, you interested in becoming a star after all this blows over?” It was an innocent seeming question, but you narrowed your eyes, not certain on the intention of the question.
“Why are you so interested in my career path?” You inquired, your tone a touch more serious. You glanced over to see where the others had gone. All gone. No one to save you from this man’s questions. You crossed your arms as you gazed at him with skepticism.
You were hit with a wave of nostalgia as your mind reminded you all of a sudden how he had offered a similar gig in your past life.
Some things never change.
“Listen, I talked with Liu Kang, this shit has movie written all over it.” Johnny Cage decided to be a bit more transparent with you. You raised an eyebrow, and gestured for him to go on. “I think if what he says is true, I can make a box office hit!” He gestured towards you eagerly. “And I think you have what would make this movie superb, my friend.”
“Interesting…I’ll have to pass though.” You said, shutting him down. You watched as his glee dropped a bit, and you started to walk off. You were surprised as he still walked over to try and cut you off.
“Come on, hear me out-”
“Not right now, Cage.” You replied, putting a hand up to silence him. He huffed and you could tell he held back rolling his eyes. You sent him an unamused look. “Perhaps focus on your training first, then we can discuss it.” He perked up, and you decided it was best to start to walk off before he can try and talk to you about his movie shenanigans again.
“Really!?”
It was another sleepless night.
Sighing, you swung your legs over the side of the mattress as you sat up. Perhaps you should stop trying to take naps and fight through the sleepiness so you can actually sleep at night for once. You sigh as you slump over, rubbing your eyes.
You should go outside, maybe do something productive. It’s been a few days in a row of this, you had to try something.
Not knowing exactly what to do, you followed your sense of wanderlust. You left your room, down the halls and out the building. From there, you left and found yourself standing at the entrance of the Fire Temple. You hesitated as you stepped out onto the dirt path, hearing the rocks crunch beneath your feet.
You’ve never left in the middle of the night.
It’s not like you had a curfew, or that you had any promise to stay inside the Fire Temple at night. Far from it, you remembered how Liu Kang told you that you were allowed to come and go as you pleased. That was long ago. You never thought much of his words, thinking you would never stray far.
You wouldn’t, but you figured there was no harm in going and walking off your restless energy instead of staying cooped up within the Fire Temple.
With a burst of anxiety and what you could barely consider courage, you walked on. You followed what felt like an invisible trail, until you found yourself standing in front of the Wu Shi academy.
Strange, but you supposed maybe you could train. Walking carefully into the academy, you made sure to be quiet, as to not disturb the monks with any noise near their sleeping quarters. You found yourself making your way towards the training grounds where you were surprised to hear the faint noise of training.
Transforming your ears into bat ears, you tried to hone in on the sounds. You furrowed your eyebrows as you stood still, trying to make sure the person was not a threat, and if you could recognize them. You blinked as you suddenly came to a realization.
You walked quietly, making sure to follow the lessons Madam Bo and Bi-Han had pushed onto you to remain quiet and stealthy. Be stealthful as the night, and as deadly as the dawn. You peered from around a pillar, and spotted the person standing there alone, and you confirmed your suspicions.
It was Raiden.
You watched for a few minutes, changing your eyes to those of owl eyes to see better in the dark, to better observe. He was going over the basics, ever diligently. You pursed your lips, raising an eyebrow. You had thought he had been more…feeble, being more reserved than Kung Lao. And yet, he was here, training in the dead of night.
What a peculiar man.
After a few more minutes, you watched as he made a critical error in his form. He didn’t seem to notice, and you sighed. He kept on training, repeating the error. You cringed. That was going to form a nasty habit, and if you were to be the mentor Liu Kang trusted you to be, you couldn’t let that happen.
Moving out of position, you slinked closer towards him, stopping to lean against a pillar that was only a few feet away from him. You changed your eyes back, letting your eyesight return back to normal. You felt the all too familiar feeling of the headache return, and you grimaced.
Your memories for Raiden were confusing. He was like a completely different man in almost every way. If your memories didn’t trigger in such specific ways, you wouldn’t believe the man that appeared in your head was the same one that was training in front of you.
Maybe because he wasn’t the same man.
“You’re doing it wrong.” You spoke, your voice ringing clear in the quiet courtyard. You watched as Raiden jolted from surprise, stumbling as he whirled around in a fighting stance to face you. You smiled at him as you held your hands up. “Relax, Raiden.” You said softly, to try and calm him down from the sudden shock.
“Why are you…?” Raiden began, eyes wide in confusion as he stared at you, not processing the situation quickly. He swallowed as he tilted his head, mouth open as he tried to muster up the words to speak. You brushed off his confusion, gesturing to his stance. 
“Your form was off.” You comment, gesturing to his body and pointing towards where he exactly had been incorrect. “You were practicing with it being wrong. That’ll be bad practice for you.” You point out. You watched as he tried to correct his form, and you hummed, gesturing to instruct him on how to fix it. As he finally shifted back into a proper stance, you nodded. “Better.”
“Um…thank you.” The farmer boy said, his awkward feeling at the situation obvious. Not only did it show on his body language, but it was shown plainly on his face. You had a feeling this man couldn’t obscure his feelings for the life of him. 
It was good to be honest, but you were worried it might work against him.
“I have trouble sleeping at night.” You explained, crossing your arms as you sighed. Your eyes looked down at the ground as you noted how the moonlight fell and illuminated the area around you two. “I decided to go on a walk and wound up here. I thought it might be nice to try and train, then I saw you out here.” You looked up, and gestured to him.
“Oh.” Raiden said after a few moments of silence. His face flushed as he put two and two together that you were asking for him to explain why he was there too. “I…uh, couldn’t sleep.” He admitted, looking down to the ground in defeat. “It’s different here than in Fengjian.” 
Ah. Homesickness.
“I see, so you decided to try and train and work off your restlessness?” You inquired, tilting your head as you tried to gauge his reaction. He paused, considering your words for a moment, before nodding hesitantly.
“A bit.” He said, nodding his head. “But I was also thinking about our sparring today.” The farmer admitted. You blinked in surprise, and nodded, wanting him to go on. “I just wanted to go over what the monks taught us today, so next time I would fare better against you.” 
How humble and sweet.
“While I admire your determination, there’s two problems.” You said as you kicked off the pillar you had been leaning against. You strode over to stand closer to Raiden, gesturing to him. “One, you must be diligent in your forms. Practice without purpose only builds bad habits.” He nodded eagerly, seeming to take your words seriously. “Second, there is a thing such as over practicing.” 
“I see.” Raiden said, letting your words sink in as he nodded. He stared at you with a mixture of admiration and attentiveness, and you smiled. Quickly, he bowed in appreciation. “I’ll keep this in mind, thank you.”
“No problem, what kind of mentor would I be if I let you practice such horrible habits?” You inquired, crossing your arms. You observed the man a few moments more, and you sensed that neither one of you were quite tired enough to go to bed. “I have a feeling neither one of us is ready to sleep, would you like me to run you through the forms again?”
“Yes please!”
Maybe you were cut out for this after all.
part five
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lunarw0rks · 9 months
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I politely crave moreee awkward placed injures with reader and task force 141. Also why is it so hard to spell awkward like I spend 10 minutes trying to spell it :D
No Filter | Part Two
A/N: I wrote this in an hour, I apologize if it's lackluster. I was picturing the sparring scene from Miss Congeniality while writing this - if you know what I'm talking about I love u. Not proofread.
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Summary: From a simple training session to a brawl.
Warning(s): platonic!141, mild language, crackfic, canon-typical "violence", very mild injury/blood, fem!reader, no use of y/n
Word Count: 1.3k
꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST PART ONE | AO3 VER. // have a request? // ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗
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What you were trying to do was train. The right way.
But did that ever go as planned in this God-forsaken place?
In this God-forsaken task force? Not ever.
It was a simple sparring session, a rare one where everyone was participating. Each member picked a buddy, yours being Gaz—one of the more tolerable, humble men you worked with. Though, he had his sore moments every now and then.
Gaz raised his fists, the both of you dancing around in a circle as you braced for impact. “C’mon, hit me!” He exclaimed, curling his lips into a smug smirk. You squinted at him, returning the playful glare as you debated on your next move.
“What? Get shot in the bits but you can’t punch me?” He chuckled, reminding you of the bullet welt still healing—an awkward reminder of the enemy’s odd aim.
At the mention of it, you swung at him, rendering him on his ass. Kyle groaned and held his throbbing forehead, a tender mark where your gloved fist knocked the cockiness right out of him. “Bloody Christ, I said hit me not give me a brain injury!”
You stifle your belly laugh as best as you could, feeling a sting where you were still healing. Instead, you outstretched a hand, pulling the spiteful Sergeant to his feet. And here you were thinking Garrick would be a less irritating sparring partner. Surely, less obnoxious than Soap, and miles less intimidating than Ghost.
You heard a thud behind the two of you, causing you to turn on your heels and inspect the hilarious scene in front of you. Soap was on his ass, holding a small cut on his brow—one that would leave him with a nasty bruise for weeks. The skull-faced Lieutenant stood over him, arms crossed over his chest as he watched him writhe.
“You got distracted, Johnny. Ended up on your arse.” he taunted, taking a few steps back as Soap regained his footing.
With Ghost’s strength, it could’ve been any limp thrust into Soap’s temple. Your guess? Probably an elbow or knee. Soap pointed a finger at Kyle’s reddened mark where you sucker punched him, as if sitting him in the same boat of embarrassment.
“Look at him! Knocked down by her; a nasty mark that is.” His Scottish accent grew stronger the more heated he got, though Ghost remained untouched by both the activity and the humor.
Soap approached, giving your touchy chest a knock with his fist, “I’m proud of you, lass, sticking up for yourself, especially with this one.” He pointed to Gaz’s disgruntled scowl, an often recurring expression on his youthful face. Though, you were more focused on Johnny’s patronizing—he hadn’t let you live the boob incident down.
That vigor resurfaced, making you sweep Soap’s feet out from under him with just a kick. “I told you not to bring that up, you bastard!” You lunged for him, but he had rolled out of your path, finding his footing again. It was game on now—to hell with proper, tactical training.
Soap gripped your shoulders, sending you both to the foam mat with a grunt. The struggle was entertaining for the rest of them, to say the least. Even Simon; the man nonchalantly stanced to the side, pretending he’s not associated with the clown show playing in front of him.
You ended up on top of him, knees on each side of his head. It took every bit of your might, your training to keep his arms from swatting you in the face. It was like two siblings wrestling over their turn with the remote.
“They’re just—” Johnny grunts, resisting the neck pin, “—too damn distracting!” Oh, he was in for it now. That idiotic smolder on his face, like you weren’t seconds from adding to the nasty bruise on his brow bone.
“My bets on her. She’s got a lot of rage.” Gaz whispered to Simon, holding a cold compress to the throbbing mark on his head.
Ghost turns his attention to Gaz’s laughable appearance, then back to the immature brawl. “Johnny’s like a hungry hound, he won’t go easy. Just like I taught him.”
Simon was right. You got too caught up in your need for vindication, disembarking you into the submissive position, a smirking Soap above you.
Your feet pressed against his toned stomach, your only lifeline because your arms were pinned above your head. “Next time we do a honeypot operation, you’re wearing the thong, MacTavish!” A harsh kick delivered by you, right on his kneecap sent him keeling to the side of you, allowing for your brisk getaway.
You slithered around Gaz, using his frame as a distraction so you could gather yourself. Cheating? Perhaps; but Soap started this, not you. Your eyes peeked around him, now circling around the middleman until an inevitable mistake was made.
“Bet you’d love to see that.” Soap answers your remark from seconds ago, sweat pooling on his bruised brow. Kyle eventually got fed up being used as a wall, yanking your arm and thrusting you towards your mow-hawked opponent.
It wasn’t the quick move he thought it was, however. His foot snagged on yours, sending him tumbling to the ground. And you? You slipped on the ice pack that came flying from Garrick’s grip as he fell. It was like a trio of klutzes all in one room. Surely, no one would be able to picture you three as serious members of the Task Force after all was said and done—but you needed revenge, craved it.
Kyle let out a groan of contempt, barrel rolling out of the way as you and Johnny scuffled again, stumbling along the training room as you attempted head-locks on each other.
Simon retreated into the corner of the room, observing his moronic co-workers as he played with the blade of his knife. Sooner or later, the Captain was either going to find out about this incident second-hand, or walk into this unprofessional brawl. Either way; the skull man was not going to be involved. His fortuitous knee to Soap’s temple was enough to fuel his ego for the day.
You received a few elbows to the rips, some knocks on the side of the head, all while petty insults were thrown at the Scot. It was ridiculous, but in the moment—you were on top of the world, beating Johnny’s arrogance.
You latched onto Johnny’s back, attempting to finally give him a well-deserved choke hold. What did you get instead? A forearm to the nose, a small smear of blood on your wrist when you instinctively raised a hand to your throbbing nose.
Soap was chuckling… until he witnessed you compose yourself within a matter of seconds. The saying he heard once; hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. He believed it to be true the moment he saw you charge him, a disabling kick to his balls. Not strong enough to leave him impotent—enough to make him see stars.
You got ahead of yourself too, delivering the kick too soon after a blow to the face. You lost your balance, finding yourself crumpled on the floor beside MacTavish. Unless it was literal life or death, neither of you were continuing this tussle.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
Everyone’s heads perked up at the sound of the Captain’s irritation. Imagining the scene from his perspective made sense; Kyle pouting with an ice pack on his head, you holding a bloodied nose while stunned, Soap clutching his wounded manhood, and Simon in the corner sharpening a blade.
It was in his nature to keep professional, though he had to fight the urge to cackle.
“You were supposed to be training with each other, not partaking in catfights.” He cleared his throat. “Will someone explain to me why everyone but Simon is injured?” John crept closer, hands behind his back as he hovered over the two of you, inspecting the evidence on your faces.
Soap raised his head, mouth open to speak, but the Captain cut him off. “Not you.”
You gritted your teeth, still in the midst of catching your breath, “he talked about the boobs again.” It was a humiliated mumble, like a child caught in a lie. As if there weren't enough staff meetings caused by this unit specifically…
“My office. Now, all three of you.”
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undershyperfixate · 8 days
Text
Ranting about Ashlyn and Aiden ( concerning Red story)
( this is spoiler free, I will only discuss things that happened until ep 72)
Edit : This was sitting in my draft for so long omg
( One of those rant is inspired by a convo I had with Moon)
(edit: I've just realized while editing this that your surname is biin and not moon I apologize)
SO, sure there's an sbg hiatus, but that doesn't stop me from nourishing myself with any content there is 🫡
What content do we have here?
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I've thought about that so many times while reading fanfics about sbg, especially because there's a lot of alternative universes fanfics and I would ask myself "would they even be friends without those events?"
And now we have our answer; no.
But what's interesting then is that Ashlyn would only get close with Aiden in universes where an event would force a proximity. More defined by an event where they would be forced to interact and understand each other to survive the event, without this event, their relationship wouldn't exist. Which is understandable since as shown in the webtoon, before the dimension; she avoids him, she distanced herself, and she would have continued to do that.
But most of all, I want to talk about the last sentence. ( I'm extremely bad with context clues so I'm not sure if the last sentence "they've grown closer and find comfort in understanding one another" is about the whole group or just Ash and Aiden, but let's act as if it was about Ash and Aiden).
Them both being neurodivergent ( Canon-wise, Ash is autistic and Aiden has ADHD) adds a lot to their understanding of each other and how they can find comfort in being together ( platonic or romantic).
I'm going to use one of some scenes to explain my thesis
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My favorite, scene, of all time. I love everything about that I'm going to explode.
Okay anyway, here we can see that Aiden noticed Ashlyn depressed state fastly, without even needing words, he knows about her boundaries so he just caress their knuckles together ( that sounds so medical) as a way to comfort her without making her uncomfortable. He understands her needs and boundaries and wants to still be able to be there for her and make her feel better in his own way so he does it in the most thoughtful way
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The way he's shocked at the contact and can't handle seeing her cry omg :( the way he wraps his hand around her in a comforting manner, like he just knows what to do when it's needed, without overstepping her boundaries in any way.
And now later on,
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Aiden was the first one to see that ash felt distressed about driving again, ( due to her feeling guilty when Tyler fell and that she wasn't able to go back). He proposes to drive even tho has zero experience in driving ( he probably wanted to try for some thrills too) but also because he understood how uneasy it was for her, same as when they were in the hospital.
And now for the main scene that inspired me to write this
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He's staying beside her when he's running and immediately grabs her arm when she stumbles because of the sudden loud noises. He sat beside her and put his hands on the headphones to help her muffle the sounds even more. That's such a genuinely adorable way of showing that you care by doing an act of service, but also them being both written as neurodivergent makes me think that they understand each other in a relatable way, in a "helping one another accommodate to their struggles" kinda way. The same way as Ash is said to be unconsciously more protective of Aiden because he's more hyperactive and takes more risks.
Everything about this rant can be taken as both platonic or romantic, as I tried to stay on red's words to describe their dynamic. ( Did I already say that? I get distracted easily)
I've finished my little rant, thanks for reading
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weeb-polls-with-pip · 4 months
Text
Autistic Anime Boys Prelims - Propaganda Division - Round 2
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Propaganda:
Amuro -
"Being a Newtype is just space autism to me. But also he sucks at falling in line in a structured environment, would rather work with machines than talk to people, and is only allowed as a child soldier because he's the bestest at big robots."
Kyouya -
"what's there to say? you know him. you love him. vote kyoya."
Euini -
"I relate a lot to his social anxiety, especially his performance anxiety that occurs when he's being watched by people, particularly due to his stress at needing to follow the plan/do things the "proper" way in order to not feel like he's a failure. he also stands like a lil autistic kid and i appreciate him so much for that.
(LIGHT SPOILERS) basically, he has a test that he needs to take in order to advance as a witch, and he keeps failing it because he cant perform properly while being watched by other people, even though he knows the "right" spells to use and why he's supposed to use them. on his third attempt of the test, he's prepared a "script" to use so that he can follow it and not worry about failing in the moment (in this case, his script is a hand-written book of the proper spells to use and the order in which he's supposed to use them), but when a part of the exam changes, he's no longer able to follow his script. because he's been taught all his life that there's only one proper way of doing things, his way of thinking is very rigid and he's not able to deviate from his plan without panicking. luckily, one of his fellow examinees (richeh from the autistic anime girls poll 💕) is able to convince him to try and change the way that he does things to something that is more attuned to his personal needs- basically change the way that he casts his spells and which spells to use so that he doesn't need to struggle with doing things in the way that everyone says that he should; the way that he cant seem to manage. but, even before richeh helped him with that though, he was still finding way to modify the "proper" spells a little bit to better suit his weaknesses. he was trying so hard to fit in to the mold that witch society gave him, but it just wasnt right for him and he was making it work however he could."
Aoi -
"He has a very devoted special interest in the idol Takada-chan, which he frequently imagines in fights and other situations… the moment someone (Itadori) expresses equal interest in something he is passionate about, he immediately declares them besties and brothers and creates a whole elaborate shared history for them that doesn’t actually exist. He’s not really interested in connecting with people who don’t share his interests. He’s seen as somewhat strange and eccentric. Though in the present he is respected because of his strength as a sorcerer, as a child he was very isolated."
Floyd -
"Has no emotional regulation skills and will make it everyone's problem. Prone to mood swings and can get angry at the drop of a hat, but can also be so goofy, silly, and lovely. Sways side to side for that good good stim, and loves to squeeze others (with violent intent and affectionate intent). Who doesn't love a good pressure stim? His interest in things can be fleeting, and his motivation to do things can change as quickly as his mood. Spontaneous and feral extraordinaire."
Apollo -
"Not canonically autistic but he has ZERO volume control plus he scripts/repeats stuff (“I’M FINE!!!”), sometimes mimics other people’s speech patterns (like replying “ja” to Klavier), sensitive to loud noises (stayed backstage at a concert cuz it was too loud) and bright lights (complained about the stage lights being too bright at the same concert + screamed when opening the hatch to the bright stage at magic show), and has been really into space since he was a kid, which could definitely be a hyperfixation (not to mention how he read every single one of Phoenix’s old case files back when he admired him). Plus he’s a little TOO normal, to the point where it circles back around to making him the odd one out, which is absolutely what masking feels like for me. Even when he tries to be fun and weird he gets strange looks/made fun of for not being weird in the right way. The list of autism symptoms is just a checklist for him at this point."
Ash -
"he just has those vibes ya know?"
Shou -
"His special interest is math. He uses math terms in regular conversations and calls people yoctograms/zeptograms which earned him monikers such as "math man" and "pi-face". Speaking of Pi, he once shouted 155 consecutive digits of it through a megaphone just because he could. He's so normal."
Sunny -
"Sunny has been told that his face is not expressive. He doesn't talk a lot and he often gets lost into his imagination. He is a great listener and recalls a lot of information being told he has a great memory (he is able to remember a whole speech about flower symbolism that his friend told him) He is compared to a cat."
Yuu -
"He’s like if an emo programmer boy was also completely unhinged and also had a tragic backstory."
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thebigsl33p · 3 months
Text
Last Words of A Shooting Star (Part One)
A/N: this is the longest fic I've ever written, and this is only part one. A lot of love has gone into this, I'm super excited to share it! If there any mistakes or stuff please let me know. Uh, Aleksander's kinda OOC bcs it's early days and I'm not traumatising him yet but I am gonna make everyone so miserable in Part Two, I promise, and then he'll become a mardy bastard. Masterlist will be up with the second part, and my main will be updated.
Main Masterlist
people I thought might appreciate being tagged: (If not, sorry!!!):
@augustwithquills @myanmy @noortsshift @archangelslollipop @vaguekayla @budugu @inlovewithfictionalmen444 @weallhaveadestiny @dreamlandcreations @bookloverfilmoholic @lost-tothe-centuries
Warnings: Violence - murder, not too graphic, I don't think. I think that's all, if not please let me know. tbf, canon level I think but maybe I'm delusional
Word Count: 8260
Fic Playlist:
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Aleksander has always had a fascination with the night sky. He can’t help it. It’s the darkness, he thinks, it runs in his blood and makes up his flesh, how couldn’t he be absolutely enamoured with it? 
Maybe it’s because it was the only constant. 
So much of his childhood, his years as a teenager and as a young adult were spent travelling, creating new identities, learning new landscapes, new faces, new names, new buildings, all of which would disappear and be replaced every two weeks. And sure, the daytime was nice with the sun and all. But it wasn’t as peaceful, didn’t bring him that same tranquillity as when he would lay down in a field, gaze up and try to name all the constellations, find new shapes and make up new stories. 
Perhaps it all changed due to the incident at the Grisha camp. He had loved sunlight, the dark had scared him. But now, something was different - that air of peace was replaced by a penchant for the tenebrosity that the night brought with it, and a love for the small lights which decorated the dusk. 
No matter where he went, whether he was North, East, South, or West, the night-sky was the same. Always that deep monumental blue speckled with little dots - little lights, little moons, little stories - which people like him called Stars. There was nothing quite like laying in a field, feeling the cool summer breeze or the biting winter gusts and knowing that you were so small, so insignificant compared to everything that burned up in the cosmos. 
He was young then. Young and naive. And it was before her.
Looking back on it, Aleksander should’ve known better. Hadn’t the incident at the Grisha Camp taught him that? Wasn’t it what his mother drilled into him constantly? Trust no one. Never show your abilities. Touch no one. He was, politely put, a fool. 
He was a young man when his life changed, for the better and for the worse. It’s hard to remember exactly, but he believes he was around nineteen, and he remembers it was a hot summer’s evening. The day had been spent working. He couldn’t have known then, but that ‘work’ was the beginnings of The Little Palace. But back then, it was him being - as his mother would put it - foolish, and helping other Grisha travel across Ravka. They were hard to find, and even harder to trust, but gradually, slowly yet surely, he was building a good network.
But during the nights, just for a little while he could let that go. He could lay in the tall grass, head tipped towards the dark vast sky and he could stare up at the stars and pretend he was normal, that shadows weren’t absentmindedly curling around his fingers.
For some reason he struggles to remember memories before that time. They’re blurry and vague, little snippets and days that he’s lost with his extended age. But that particular night, he remembers it vividly - his long hair brushing his cheek in the wind, the hard dirt under his head, the hum of nature and bugs, the bustle of a town not so far away carried on the wind, and the stars. They were the brightest he’d ever seen them, almost restless, buzzing in their eternal placeholders. Something, he could feel, was wrong.
The image of the star falling to Earth is eternally seared into his memory.
It appeared faster than he could comprehend - one second it wasn’t there, and then one second it was. He sits up on his elbows, completely transfixed and stunned by, what he at first presumes, is a shooting star. But gradually, he realises it’s getting bigger, faster… closer.
This burning bright ball of cream yellow light, tumbling through time and space and existence, tumbling towards him. Sitting there in the field, stunned by the sight, he’s sure he can hear it fizzling and crackling, knows it’s completely impossible from this distance, but he’s certain of it. Something tugs in his chest, somewhere between unbridled intrigue and panic, his mother’s words of warning echoing in his head. The intrigue wins, it’s an easy internal battle of common sense and childlike wonder which he thought he had long abandoned. 
Aleksander scrambles to his feet, accidentally getting dirt on his palms and his trousers but he barely notices, head still tilted to the sky and his breath caught in his throat. He can see the trajectory of the star, where it will land in a section of the forest just a bit off from where he’s camping out. His eyes widen, a small smile, and before he knows it he’s stepping towards the tree-line, his black boots thudding on the ground as his footsteps get quicker and quicker. 
To anyone else, the forest might’ve seemed daunting, especially so late at night. But the Shadow Summoner stepped into it without hesitation, the wizened terrain underfoot switching to a softer crunch of twigs and leaves. Once inside, he loses sight of the star, the canopy of the forest shielding it from him, its only indication being the unnatural light it shines through the leaves onto the forest floor, making his journey easier. He dodges twigs, branches, spider-webs, ducking and batting them out of the way quickly, balancing looking at the floor and where he’s going with gazing up at the foliage covered sky for any indication he’s travelling the right way. 
He doesn’t know why he’s following after the star. He doesn’t know how he knows it’s a star. It feels more akin to when you’re in a dream, and you just know something is. Something about it compels him, drags him forward and pushes him on, deeper into the forest.
When the star makes impact, he feels it. In fact, Aleksander’s sure the entire world might’ve felt it, the shake in the trees and the ground, the birds disturbed from their midnight peace quickly fleeing their homes at the rattle of the branches and leaves, the dust-like dirt stirring. And it guides him to the star - the cracking noise it made as it hit the ground unmistakably came from a fraction to his left and so, he followed that way. 
He knows he’s getting closer when the damage becomes more destructive. It’s no longer just disturbed birds and dirt, it’s entire trees tilted at an angle as if God had pushed a finger into the dirt and tilted them, their roots peeking through the soil. But in the middle of the makeshift clearing it is dark, the disturbed dirt floating and drifting through the air and concealing his surroundings. The ground is severely dented and compacted, forming a large dark crater which Aleksander can barely peek over. 
He shuffles from the damaged treeline, his boots creaking on the soil as he tries to catch a glimpse over the edge of the vast crater, but it’s wide and deep, and the edges are loose. He’s careful, his Shadows waiting obediently for his hands to move - for some form of attack or defence. But it never comes. 
Instead, as the clouds of dirt clear, the centre of the crater gradually became more visible. The middle was, overall, smooth but it slopes and nicks here and there. He had expected to see a rock, some large grey bland thing which ultimately would’ve made this all less exciting. But what he sees instead has his eyes widening. There, in the middle of the crater, is a young woman. She’s asleep - passed out maybe - her arms loosely stretched outwards, her hair splayed, messy and white. It’s not even like he can say it’s grey, or silver, or blonde. No, her hair is white, paper white, as white as the dress she’s wearing. It fits her well, skims over her body without constricting too much movement.  He notices she has no shoes on. It dawns on him that this sleeping woman, this girl, is the Star and his brow furrows softly. 
He barely hesitates before he’s sitting on the ledge of the crater and sliding down it, his boots landing on the compacted soil with a thud. In a few strides he’s standing over the sleeping girl, and then in another quick action he crouches down and picks her up, the back of her knees bent over his arm, her waist in his other as he supports her back and her head lolls. He huffs in soft amusement, and walks back the way he came, gently hoisting her up the wall of the crater with as much care as he can, using his shadows when he has a spare hand. It’s hard, and takes a bit of manoeuvring, but he gets there eventually before he pulls himself up. It’s a surprise to him that she hasn’t woken up yet. 
He didn’t feel comfortable leaving her there like that, asleep, vulnerable and barefoot where anyone could’ve found her and not have known what they had stumbled on. He picks her up again, and begins his journey back through the forest, a little slower and with a little more care, mumbling to himself - to her - as they go. She doesn’t stir once, her head propped against his chest, her hair tickling his arm slightly. 
The journey back to where he was camping out is peaceful. It’s quiet, save for his footsteps or the rustle of clothes. Occasionally, the moonlight catches her and she sparkles a bit. Literally sparkles, reflects it like a goddamn mirror. It really is a sight to see and it makes his lips quirk up a bit. 
When they get back to the field, he’s careful. Aleksander lays her down on his mat, adds a few more logs to the fire and covers her with his coat. He thinks of checking her for injuries or damage, but decides that can wait until she wakes up. He doesn’t want to be a creep, and if she’s in pain she’s probably better off telling him when she wakes up, than him finding out for himself. 
And so, he settles himself on the other side of the campfire. He leans his head on his pack - considering the girl next to him has his mat - and tries to get what little sleep will come. 
-
When Y/N wakes, it’s in unfamiliar surroundings. The first thing she’s aware of is the cold. It’s not freezing, but it’s uncomfortable, and she tucks her legs up under her until she’s in a ball, tugging the blanket under her chin. Blanket? No. She shouldn’t have a blanket. It shouldn’t be cold… 
She sits up fast and quick, all lethargy gone from her body as her eyes widen and she takes in her surroundings. She’s in a field. On a mat. And someone’s dark, large coat is over her body. It’s early morning, the sky a pale grey, a low mist settling on her surroundings and a light dew coating the grass. She can feel heat on one side of her, but her head is turned towards the foggy treeline. She tries to recall the last things she remembers… being in the sky, existing, and then a sudden gap which she can’t figure out, and then she wakes up here. 
She’s caught in thought, trying to make sense of her surroundings when a voice says, “You’re awake.” and her head whips around. On the other side of a fresh campfire is a young man, dark eyes, long dark hair, pale skin and dark clothes. He’s roasting a rabbit over the fire - no doubt freshly caught from the knife that sits beside him. His pack sits beside him, his eyes never leave her, even as she expresses soft panic. 
She tries to get up, but her body aches, and he holds out a hand, “Easy. I’m not… I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?” he asks softly, waving to her to relax. 
She answers hesitantly, her eyes scanning the boy, “Y/N.” she says eventually, “You?” 
“Leonid.” Aleksander lies, looking between the campfire and her, “Are you hurt anywhere? You took… quite the fall.” 
“Funny.” Y/N says drily, “How long have you been working on that one?”
From the grin that splits his face, he’s clearly secretly pleased with his dad-joke, “Just this morning.” Leonid - Aleksander - turns a bit more serious, “Are you, though? Hurt?” 
She shakes her head, kicking the coat off her and putting it to one side so she can sit up properly, “No, I’m fine.” she mumbles, “Just achy.” 
“Mhm, I suppose that’s to be expected.” he holds the cooked rabbit out to her on a makeshift fork, “Here, eat. You’ll need it.” 
Y/N takes it hesitantly, sniffing it before picking a bit of meat off it with her fingers and eating it, “Thanks… who are you?” 
“Leonid.” He repeats. 
“No, I meant like - where am I? Who are you - like - how did you find me?” 
“Well,” he leans back on his elbows, glances around, “You’re in a field, near Vernost, in Ravka.” he says, “and I am…” his brow furrows softly as he figures out how to phrase this. She’s a Star - would she even understand the difference between Grisha and Otkazats’ya? 
He says it anyway. 
“As I said, my name’s Leonid, I’m…” he’s hesitant - would a star really have prejudices? He hopes not. He takes a foolish chance. “Grisha. You know what that is?” 
She nods, offers him what remains of the Rabbit. He waves it off, indicating that she finishes it. “Why are you helping me?” She asks, tilting her head. 
“My, you’re just full of questions.” he sighs, “I saw you fall. I wasn’t just gonna… leave you.”
“Right.” Y/N’s eyes narrow slightly, “is this your coat? Here you can have it back.” she nudges the coat towards him. 
He gives her an amused look, his eyes moving down, then back up, “I think you’ll need it more than me, zvezda.” he muses, smug almost. 
She glances down at the dress she’s wearing. It’s simple, plain, and he’s right. It’s too thin for the current weather - she’ll be better off as it warms up during the day - but for now, she accepts the coat with a small, amused huff. 
"C'mon, eat that fast," he says, indicating to the rabbit, "We've gotta get going before the sun is too high." He's already tucking away the few things he got out, "I'm gonna walk you to the nearest town, Vernost, leave you somewhere safe, okay?" he glances at her, "Get you some shoes and some more suitable clothes. Until then…”
He reaches into his pack, produces a spare undershirt and hands it to her with an almost apologetic look, "Better than nothing." she nods in thanks.
She takes the shirt with a grateful nod. Once she's finished the rabbit, she stands and hands him the mat, watching as he rolls it up and tucks that away too, and then they're set to travel. She pulls on the undershirt over her dress and while it hangs loosely it provides a bit more comfort, and then she shuffles on his coat. It’s too big for her, completely contrasts her bright eyes and white hair, the sleeves hang loosely and she has to roll them up. 
 He wants to make her as comfortable as possible, and so shows her the map he’s using, highlights the path they’ll be travelling with his finger, showing their way through the woods, worries a bit over her lack of shoes and then they’re walking. 
The path to the town is simple, through the woods, past her crater, and then a little further for about fifteen or twenty minutes. He’s careful to go first, his harsh boots making some attempt at flattening the ground for her barefoot condition. Aleksander considers picking her up - no, too weird for someone he’s just met - and she doesn’t seem to be in any pain. 
They keep walking. The sun rises higher, the morning beginning just as they make their way into Vernost. It’s a small town, but a good town. The hustle and bustle of people, farmers, artisans, builders and blacksmiths is accompanied by the gentle murmur of the small local market, travellers and locals who move between stalls and shops, horses’ hooves on the cobblestone, the crowd parting for an occasional rickety wooden carriage.
He glances over to her. The look of awe on her face is somewhere between sad and endearing. She’s struck completely by this tiny town, the smallest, simplest form of inhabitance, and yet it brings nothing but awe and wonder to her gaze. There’s a sense of yearning in the way her eyes run over everything as they walk, as if she’s desperate to take it all in, to retain it, keep it held to her chest - to make life hers. To have all of it - to know the joys and the sorrows like the back of her hand. Aleksander could practically see the light come to life behind her eyes, as if she’d finally woken up to something wonderful. 
He smiles, somewhere between amusement and appreciation, and places a hand on her shoulder to steer her through the crowds which are slowly getting busier, “Easy tiger.” he says and she laughs sheepishly. 
“It’s just all so…” she doesn’t know how to describe it, the words to explain the way her heart is racing all jam up in her throat. She has a heart. The rushing of blood, just the wind against her skin, it’s all she ever wanted to feel, and now that she can feel it, now she’s no longer confined to the night sky, she’s in complete and utter astonishment, raptured by everything around her. 
“Kinda overwhelming?” He suggests, raising an eyebrow as they walk. He’s keeping an eye out for a Cobbler - or anywhere that sells shoes, really. Again, he casts his eyes down to her bare feet and feels guilt and concern rise in him, that the streets of Vernost, nor the woods are exactly clean, and they must be hurting by now.
But one glance at her face and he can tell she barely feels it. It’s just dirt - it can be washed off. However, it doesn’t ease the guilt. 
-
The first time she ‘shines’, is over a piece of cake. 
They’d been travelling together for a few weeks now. Aleksander was a fool to think he could leave her alone in Vernost, his worries, concerns and guilt over the Star getting the better of him. They stayed for a few days there, giving her a general introduction to the workings of human life in a contained and somewhat non-threatening environment. 
In their few brief days in Vernost she tries a range of food, stews, desserts. He explains money, the current politics of the country over a bowl of stew from the Inn they were staying at, explains the prejudices and segregation of Grisha, the violence. They get her clothing, a shirt, an overvest, trousers and boots, and a small bag to carry her non-existent belongings. She folds her dress into it for the first few days - that silky silver material which catches in the moonlight - and it fits surprisingly well, tucks into the corner of the satchel. He explains to her how to read the map, all the different little symbols. In some ways, she’s like a child. Her lack of general knowledge about the world is understandable, but she catches on fast, much faster than anyone else could’ve. 
Well, they’d been travelling together for a few weeks, developing a relationship that might even be called friendship. Aleksander had to make a few adjustments to the way he travelled - he was still telling Y/N his name was Leonid - occasionally they travelled at night. Honestly, it made more sense, he felt more comfortable in the darkness, and she had more energy. But it also made them bigger targets for suspicion, people travelling at night were often suspected of Grisha related activity… which is exactly what he was doing. She was just along for the ride, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get dragged into his problems and potentially harmed. Conflicting morals, he knows. 
They’d passed through a few villages on their travels, small places which minded their own business and were good for occasional stock ups on food, water, supplies. 
He doesn’t know why he bought the slice of cake. Aleksander had decided it was good for her to develop her own independence, and so she had gone to make her own way around this small town they’d stopped in. Meanwhile, he perused the sparse shops for anything of use. 
The slices of cake were sitting in the shop window, all of them uniform in their cream decoration and the small slices of strawberries which sat inside and on top of the layers of sponge, and all of them placed delicately on little porcelain dishes. He enters the shop without thinking, purchases a slice to take away, lets the person wrap it away in a small tissue and carefully takes it, slipping it into a safe part of his own bag. He’s careful for the rest of the day in the way he moves - making sure not to squash or compromise the baked good. He can’t quite wrap his mind - nor his heart - around why he’s done it. Why did he suddenly feel the urge to buy her a slice of cake of all things. But he’s glad he did. Aleksander hopes she’ll like it. 
He presents it to her over their campfire for the evening. It’s a small thing made of dried grass and twigs or any larger pieces of wood they could find but it provides light and heat and that’s enough. They’re sitting either side of it, across from one another, having just eaten bread and cheese for dinner. Twilight is setting in the sky, and he can see it on her - the way her eyes are slightly brighter, her laugh slightly more mellow as they chat over their food. 
He reaches into his bag by his side, clears his throat and says, “I got you something.”
Y/N’s brow furrows softly, and she tilts her head as he continues, “I just… it’s small, but I thought you might like it.” and he produces a square shaped thing, slanted, and wrapped in tissue, still preserved, offering it to her in the palm of his hand over the campfire. 
She takes it gently, “What is it?” as she delicately peels back the tissue. The cake is… well, cake. The sponge is a soft pale yellow, the cream delicately placed and the strawberries are slightly softer than they should be, but won’t make too much of a difference. She raises it to her nose and hesitantly sniffs it, which gets a chuckle out of him. 
“It’s cake.” he answers, “Go on, try it.” Aleksander encourages her with a wave of his hand. 
She raises her eyebrows and lifts the cake to her mouth, taking a small bite. Her eyes instantly light up, and he laughs at her reaction as she mumbles, “Oh, Saints, this is really good..” Around a  mouthful of cake. 
She eats a bit more, and then holds it out to him, “Want some?” 
And that’s when he sees it. She’s shining. Literally glowing. Radiating light, her very skin and hair giving it off like it’s nothing. His breath hitches as she lights up the field. It’s not particularly bright, but it’s strong and it makes itself known. She’s like a mellow night light, and it only causes his smile to widen, “You’re um…”  he gestures at her - at her glowing. 
Her brow scrunches up - it’s cute - and she laughs sheepishly, “Shining?” 
“Yeah. That.” he grins, leaning back on his palms. 
She huffs, a huff of mock exasperation, “I’m sorry - I can’t… it’s not something I can really control. It just happens, y’know. Like…” She averts her eyes to the flames of the small campfire, “If I’m happy. I shine - it’s what stars do best.” They both laugh a little. 
“Well, it suits you.” Aleksander says gently - his voice much softer than he meant it to be, or than he’s comfortable with. When did he get so… compassionate? He internally grimaces, but for some reason he feels an odd sense of endearment to this girl. 
“Yeah,” She responds with a wry grin, “I should hope so. I am a star, after all.” 
And again, they both laugh. 
-
Aleksander didn’t intend to keep her with him for so long. He didn’t intend to introduce her to his friends - to his connections, to the people across the country who help him with his work. He didn’t intend to get her involved. But they’ve been travelling together for three months and in that time, he’s discovered a wide array of things. 
The first is that she’s good with a sword. Perhaps good is an understatement. She has a natural balance about her, maybe it’s her celestial nature, but watching her with a sword is like watching art. The handle sits in her palm with an easy weight, she swings it with an air of freedom and lax, yet with complete control. The blade is, undoubtedly, hers. 
They had discovered her penchant for swords in a rather unfortunate situation. They had been a touch careless. He was feeling more secure with someone else travelling at his side. And so, had paid less attention to his surroundings. If there was one con of her having her around, it was that she was a touch of a distraction. 
They had passed through a village. They stayed to briefly eat lunch sitting in the town square, and then had gone to pass on just as quick as they came. It shouldn’t have drawn attention. But it did. 
They hadn’t noticed the group of men watching them, looks of disdain on their features as they eyed up the two of them, mumbling to one another. They’d managed to avoid trouble so far, steering clear of Druskelle and negative situations, but on that day, something had given them away as both travellers and Grisha. It was hard to say what - perhaps it was the way they murmured and laughed quietly with one another, maybe the tell-tale way his hands moved. Perhaps he’d been careless and a slip of shadow had been noticed. They couldn’t say for certain. But these men, standing and sneering, they knew.
Either way, Y/N and Aleksander were followed back to where they were camping out by the night. It was just a clearing off the main path they were following, and they had been very comfortably sitting, eating, laughing as they did each and every evening, lit by firelight and accompanied by the low hum of bugs and the weather slowly turning cold. She noticed the figures first.
They seemed to come out of nowhere, far enough away that she could tap his shoulder with a quiet, “Leonid. There’s people.” 
His brow furrowed softly, and he turned over his shoulder in the direction she was looking at. Three men, two shorter, one that was a bit taller and lagged behind - all three variously armed. One man - short, dirty blonde hair and a face marred by smudges of dirt - carried a small dagger. The second, slightly taller with a slightly more muscular frame, had dark hair that was greying at the roots, a knife, and a snarl. The third and final man, the tallest of the lot was passive, but his eyes glinted in the firelight with nothing malevolence, and in his goliath hand was a sword. 
The man with the dark hair speaks first, accented and gruff, his eyes pinned to Aleksander, “Grisha, aren’t you?” he asks the question in a way that betrays he already knows the answer. 
Aleksander doesn’t answer. He’s careful. Delicate. She’s sitting behind him, watching the interaction, hesitant to move. He needs to think this through in a way that puts Y/N out of harm's way. His eyes never leave the men. 
There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye - the second man, wielding his dagger up quickly, his movements fueled by disgust. Aleksander’s quicker, raising his hand with two fingers pointed up, creating a wall of shadow which the dagger clashes against, and in that moment he’s scrambled up to his feet, grabbing Y/N by the arm and pulling her up with him. He runs. 
He’s not used to running. He’s used to fighting. But at the moment he’s responsible for two people’s safety, and so he pushes forward, yelling at her to go. He expected the men to follow. He didn’t expect the largest to go after her, the three men separating into groups of one and two. The two come after him, dagger and knife, and he has little time to worry about Y/N before they’re gaining, 
Aleksander’s efficient, his hands move fast to bring forth his shadows, forming sharp points which pierce the chests of the two men with harsh crunches, their weapons dropping into the grass as their bodies go limp, blood drooling from their mouths as the light leaves their eyes. 
He breathes a sigh of relief, but then he’s alert again at the sound of someone crying out from behind him. His head whips around, and he sees Y/N, and the largest man. He’s backing her up against the tree line, she’s almost frozen in fear when she trips over her own feet and onto her back. Her eyes widen, the man leers over her, sword readied and in a brief moment of fear and desperation she rears her legs and kicks his knees. 
The man grunts, hisses in pain as the sword drops from his hand so he can clutch at where she kicked him. Amateur. And in the next instant she’s lunged across the ground for the sword, where he dropped it, scrambling for it. She’s still on the floor, and she turns onto her back as the man’s attention is brought to her again, large hands reaching to cause her harm. 
The sound of the sword cutting into the man is almost deafening. She does it without thinking, pure survival instinct as she cuts the man's stomach, her hands firm on the handle as blood coats them both, her breathing heavy as she pulls the sword out and the man falls back, dying slowly. 
She’s frozen, and Aleksander’s eyes are almost as wide as hers. He takes a few loose footsteps towards her, a few more which are a bit firmer before he’s by her side, kneeling beside her and cleaning the blood off her cheeks with his sleeve, gently taking the sword from her iron grip and laying it beside her. 
“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, and it feels stupid. She’s covered in blood, shaking, tears in her eyes and the only thing he can think to ask is ‘are you okay’? Saints, he’s an idiot. 
He moves on, still wiping the blood off her as well as he can as she nods her head shakily, “It’s alright. You’re alright.” He says quietly. He remembers the first time he killed someone - the guilt, the fear, the horror at yourself. He frowns softly, as the thin shine of tears comes to her eyes and she looks away. 
Without thinking about it much more, he picks her up, scooping her into his arms, hooking the back of her knees over his arm as she turns and curls into his chest, her crying quiet and barely audible as he carries her back to their camp. 
-
After that, things are different. They’re closer, in a way.
Y/N keeps the sword, keeps it tucked by her side, takes care of the metal and the handle. She’s good with it, he knows for a fact, and he feels more comfortable knowing she has a means of handling herself. The emotional toll of the murder hit her hard. Perhaps, she thinks, she wasn’t meant to feel emotions like this. Her very existence is in conflict. She’s not meant to be able to feel this way, she’s meant to be a star for Saint’s sake! 
But there is something so very human in the guilt she carried in the days after the attack. She was quiet, much quieter than she usually was. At first, she was hesitant to carry the sword. So, instead he carried it for her, catching her eyes flickering towards it occasionally, the way it swung by his hip and the metal caught in the sun. 
One evening as they walked, she offered to take it instead. 
“Do you want me to take that?” she had said, a quiet, unspoken I think I’m okay now. 
“Are you sure?” he asked, “It’s not heavy, I’m okay to carry it for as long as-” 
“No, I’m sure.” She nodded, her look determined and firm, “My safety shouldn’t be your responsibility alone.” She explained, “We should be responsible for one another if we’re going to be travelling together. And I can’t do that if I’m unarmed.” 
He nodded in understanding, and softly unhooked the sword and the holder, and offered the handle to her. She took it, measuring the weight in her palm, before she put the holder on herself and slipped the sword into it. She took a breath. 
He spoke first, “I should tell you something, Y/N. Y’know, if we’re going to be stuck together for a while, I don’t want to keep you in the dark.” he said. 
She didn’t respond, simply nodded and waited for him to say what he had to say. 
“My name isn’t Leonid, I lied. I’ve spent most of my life having to conceal who I am, what I am, and so I hope you can understand and forgive my deception.” He paused, breathing relief into the night air, “My name is Aleksander.” 
“Aleksander?” She echoes, and a small, intimate smile finds her features, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aleksander.” She says, in that half-teasing tone he’s become so accustomed with.
He rolls his eyes but can’t fight back the grin, “You’re an ass, do you know that?” 
“Ah, you may have mentioned it once or twice.” She shrugs, unable to wipe off that teasing smile from her features. 
He huffs in mock exasperation before his tone turns softer. He’s found he has a habit of doing that. Something about her makes him better, gentler. He almost feels human around her, “I mean it Y/N,” he says quietly, “I’m sorry I lied to you, especially for so long.” 
“It’s fine,” she says with a small smile, nudging his shoulder, “You’re forgiven, if that eases your conscience.” She’s still slightly teasing, but her tone is mostly compassionate. Endearing, even. 
“Thank you,” he says, grinning as he nudges her back, “Saints, you’re insufferable.” 
She gasps, dramatically feigning offence. For a star, she’s caught onto the culture of sarcasm and drama rather well, and he laughs at her display, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they walk. It feels right. 
“How are you finding it?” He asks, as they walk, “y’know, being human? Is it weird?” He checks in on her this way every now and then to make sure she’s not overwhelmed. But this is the first time she answers differently. 
“...As a star…” She sighed softly, weighing up her words, “You’re constantly watching. You’re up there, watching all these little people have adventures and lives and romance, and it’s… it’s yearning. You want those things too, y’know? You want to be flesh and bone as well, to feel emotion. To cry, and be happy, and be angry, and to know what love feels like. You want adventure, the big things in life like… meeting someone. Or having a family. Or getting an education. Making a difference.” She laughed softly, “But you also want the little things - like cake, for example. And music, and friendship, and to share meals with people you care about.” 
She glanced at him, and then back to the path, “I’m glad you found me. I don’t think anyone else would’ve done such a good job at making me feel welcome in a world that isn’t strictly mine.” 
Her words were soft, quiet, and sincere. And it made Aleksander’s heart stutter in his chest, but he kept his composure and managed, “I’m glad I found you too.” 
-
Aleksander takes her to a place he calls ‘the sanctuary’. 
He explains it to her on the way there - a building, a place, where Grisha can support, aid and train other Grisha. 
It’s been months since they first met, and by now the warm comfort of the summer is fading, replaced by cold golden sunlight and browned leaves, wetter grounds and harsher gales. And so, he takes her there.
The sanctuary is a medium-sized, pale stone structure, hidden away in the middle of nowhere, concealed by thick woods and trees. It’s squat, but wide, the front of it gives away nothing but a set of rounded wooden doors. He takes her hand - she’s not even sure he realises that he’s done it - and guides her with him to the front. Her sword swings at her side as she follows, standing beside him as he raps his knuckles on the wooden door a few times. 
The door opens a crack, she can’t see who’s on the other side, but Aleksander’s gaze meets theirs and they open it. On the other side is a man, short brown hair and green eyes. He’s rather skinny, but his strength is held in his eyes. He lets Aleksander in without issue, nodding his head softly. Their hands are still linked together and so, she goes to follow. 
But the brown haired man stops her, a hand coming to her chest to halt her, his eyes narrowed and dark, glancing back at Aleksander. He answers, “She’s with me, Andrei.” 
“Grisha?” The man interrogates. 
Aleksander huffs, “No, Andrei. But she’s been helping me for the past five months, let her through.” 
Andrei’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he glances at Aleksander finally before letting his hand drop and allowing her entrance. She nods her head softly, and follows after Aleksander. Y/N feels him squeeze her hand, a quiet apology. She squeezes back as he guides her deeper into the sanctuary. They pass rooms, beds, people who nod at him as they pass and whose eyebrows furrow when they see her trailing after him, and her stark white hair. 
Inside, the sanctuary was busy. It was filled with the hum of people working, all in various clothing - some injured, some healing, some cooking, some reading, teaching, training - it was almost a wonderful study in the kindness of human nature and community that had her eyes widening. 
“Are you alright, Zvezda?” he asked softly, turning back to her over his shoulder, “Are you overwhelmed? We can…” 
“No, it’s… it’s wonderful.” She said quietly, her wide eyes meeting his, “I mean- it’s astounding. I’m good.” she nodded, indicating for him to keep going, “It’s just… in all our time travelling, I’ve never seen anything like this.” 
He laughed softly, pulling her closer by her hand, “I guess,” he grinned, “I’m proud of this place. I’m glad you can see it like that.” 
They spend at least three weeks at the Sanctuary. 
Aleksander takes his time to introduce Y/N to those around her. He shows her around to all the Healers, the Heartrenders, the Inferni, the Squalors, Tidemakers - technically, he shows her off to everyone. But no one knows, really, who - or what - she is. He doesn’t say. People press and ask and inquire, “Oh, what’s her Grisha order?” “Grisha, are you?” And everytime, one of them answers, “Oh, uh, No.” and refuse to elaborate further. 
It has the entire building utterly perplexed as to who this strange white haired girl is, and why she has the Shadow Summoner wrapped around her little finger. Not that The Star or The Shadow Summoner can see it, no, they’re completely oblivious. They don’t see how they’re quiet giggles, teasing, conversations might be perceived as intimate. Nor how the amount of time they spend together might be seen as suspicious.
But when you’ve spent everyday with a person for just over five months, all day, everyday, it’s very hard to separate yourself from the comfort they bring.
The confession comes late at night. 
Now that they’re in a place like the Sanctuary, they have their own rooms. They’re only small, and they’re a short walk away from one another, and it gives them each a privacy they haven’t experienced for a few months. For the first week - it’s nice. Having their own beds, their own time, being able to spend some of it alone with their thoughts. 
He notices it first. That he’s restless. It’s late at night, most of the building is asleep save for those on night watch, and he can barely close his eyes without feeling disturbed. He feels the need to do something - anything - and so, he gets out of bed, slipping back on his boots at the end of his bed and deciding he’s going to go for a walk. Maybe it’ll help clear his mind. 
Aleksander’s almost embarrassed. He can’t… he can’t stop thinking of her. He’s annoyed at himself for it, for letting him get that close, for letting him be so vulnerable to someone who wasn’t even human, who had a child’s grasp on the world… 
No, that was being unfair. He calms himself as he steps out of his room. He knows he’s just agitated, tired, a little giddy, and he takes a deep breath as he starts off down the corridor, careful not to let his boots thud too heavily. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he decides he’s just going to walk until he comes across something distracting or gets tired. 
His feet take him to her room. 
It’s the same size as his, and from the crack in the door he can tell she’s still awake, can hear a slight shuffling inside, candle light flickering on the floor. He realises now, why he’s there. What he’s come to do. And his heart lurches in his chest, but he understands that it’s now or hold his tongue for another few months and he doesn’t want to do that. 
Aleksander wants her to know about the Y/N shaped cavern she’s carved into his life. He wants her to know about how all those nights spent travelling in fields were not something he was willing to give up so easily - that when spring came he hoped to do it all again. With her. That he thinks of her endlessly. That when he wakes he hopes she’s still sleeping beside him, just a campfire away. And he wants her closer. He wants her. It’s as simple as that, that he wants to see her smile at him, and laugh - he doesn’t care if it’s at him or with him - Saints, he just wants her happy. 
The revelation comes to him, standing so close to her yet so far, on her bedroom doorstep. He takes a breath, steels himself to the sound of her soft humming from the other side of the door, and then raises his fist and knocks three times. 
By the first knock, the humming stops. By the second, she’s walking over to the door, he can hear her footsteps. And by the third, the handle is turning. The door opens and he lowers his hand. She’s standing on the other side. Of course it was her, he knew it was her. It doesn’t stop his heart from thudding against his ribs, nor his breath hitching quietly. 
The light from the candle makes her seem fully celestial, casting a golden hue across her features, and darkening half her face to accentuate them. It bounces off her silver hair, catching in the strands like a contained forest fire. 
“Aleksander?” Y/N greets softly, a small amused smile as she tilts her head in soft confusion, her brow furrowing. 
“Zvezda,” He greets softly, his eyes catching in the candle, so dark you can barely separate the pupil from the iris, “Can’t sleep?”
She shakes her head with a small laugh, beckoning him in with her hand, “Always got more energy during the night,” she sighs, “And it’s taking some getting used to, not sleeping in a field, not waking up…” next to you. 
But she doesn’t need to finish the sentence, he simply hums in agreement and shuts the door behind him, leaning on it, “I know, it’s a big adjustment.” He runs a hand through his long dark hair, “How are you finding the Sanctuary?” 
“It’s nice,” she says softly, briefly fixing her words in a slight hurry, “Sorry, that sounded- it’s lovely. The people are kind, the community is wonderful, food’s much better than bread and cheese and meats,” She grins, “No offence.”
He laughs, his nose wrinkling with the action, “None taken. In fact, I completely agree.” 
She sits on her bed as they talk, tucking her legs underneath her, “Can’t sleep either?” She probes.  
Aleksander shakes his head as well, “No, feeling restless. Same reasons as you.” He admits, feeling a bit more at ease with the slight indication that the comfort they feel around one another may be mutual, “I guess,” he sighs, bracing himself to admit it, “We spent so long together. A week was fine - but it’s weird. I keep on… waking up and expecting to see you.” 
“I know,” she agreed quietly with a small laugh, her head bent down to her hands in her lap, “it’s strange, isn’t it? I feel weird not… walking with you, or doing something, seeing a new town or whatnot. And I have this feeling.” She frowned softly to herself.
He tilts his head, folds his arms, “What feeling, Zvezda?” He asks, his brow furrowing gently. 
“I… I don’t know.” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked not quite at him - but just over his shoulder - “It’s like… this…tightness.” her hand came to her chest, her nose scrunching softly, “Here. Like… nausea. But not quite - I’m not going to be sick. And I can feel my heart. And it… it feels like wanting. But stronger?” 
His eyes widened a fraction, “And uh, when do you feel it?” 
She tilted her head, her eyes zeroing in on him in confusion and uncertainty, “When…” when I think about you. “Oh.” She said quietly, “Is that what that is?” her hand gently rubbed her chest, clearly where she felt it strongest, a sheepish laugh as she turned her eyes to the candle, anywhere but him, “They don’t describe it like this in the books.” 
He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that he wouldn’t have to explain to her that what she was feeling was, at least, a crush. If not more. Aleksander laughed softly, “No, no they do not.” 
Y/N laughed too, mildly embarrassed and still somewhat avoiding looking at him, her hands fidgeting, “Look, I’m sorry-” 
“Don’t be.” he cut her off, “Don’t be, please don’t be, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He cleared his throat and took a sharp breath, standing up from leaning on the door, “It’s… it’s  mutual, Y/N.” and he took a hesitant step towards her, “Zvezda.” He said the nickname to get her attention. 
It worked, her head turning slightly, and he continued, “Please don’t ever apologise for having feelings.” He said, his tone so much softer than he was comfortable with, “You’re a human now.” he laughed a little, crouching down in front of her as she sat on the bed, “It’s your job now. To feel. To make the most of life. So,” he said with a playful shrug, “we both have… crushes on one another.” It felt childish to say ‘crushes’ but he couldn’t think of a better word. 
“I mean…” he sighed softly, “That’s kind of… why I came here.” He confessed. 
“Really?” she asked quietly, watching him intently as he spoke. 
“Really.” he echoed, standing up. She patted the bed beside her for him to sit, and he gratefully took it, glad she was taking this all so well and she wasn’t clamming up about their feelings for one another, “Look, Y/N, Zvezda. You’ve changed my life,” he said with a small laugh of disbelief, “I mean… you’re a Star, for Saint’s sake. You are, by nature, brilliant. And you’ve been nothing short of that in the months we’ve been travelling. Even if your humour is appalling.” He softly teased, earning a playful grumble of, “It is not.” from her. 
“It is!” he insisted with a teasing grin, “You laugh at all my bad jokes, dear.” 
“Yeah well,” her initial embarrassment was beginning to fade as they engaged in their usual banter, “I think that says more about you for making the bad jokes.” to which he scoffed, and she dispersed into laughter, the two of them leaning back on the single bed. 
The laughter lasted a moment longer before fading out with a soft, content sigh. He grinned at her from where he was, a hand reaching forward for hers as he softly, half-teasingly, murmured, “You’re doing it again.” 
“Doing what?” “Shining, Zvezda.” 
“What can I say?” she laughed quietly, her head finding his shoulder, “I’m happy.”
A/N: I cannot wait to go to bed. And also to start part two. Goodnight!! <;3
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kit-kat-katie · 9 months
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Goodnight, Moonlight
A/N: Y’know, I’m actually super proud of this fic. I was unsure of myself and the direction that I wanted to go, but I ended with something that I really like. Please let me know if you want another part, I’d love to continue the story and see where our lovebirds end up next. ;)
TW: Cannon-typical levels of violence and gore, aquatic fighting, mentions of drowning, reader is described to be physically strong and have typical traits and skills that a victor from District 4 would have (dw I can’t swim but I can be delulu), reader maintains their obliviousness, slightly OOC! Peeta and Katniss (I've never written for them before so please excuse any flaws), poison fogs, reader and Co. sustains multiple injuries, death (no main character death yet)
Pairing: Finnick x GN! Reader (”one-sided” romantic to shared romantic)
Summary: As you’re thrust into the arena, you’re forced to focus on keeping yourself alive, keeping your mentor and Katniss from harming one another, and keeping ahead of the endless perils that are thrown your way. Mixed signals from Finnick eventually even out, and a moment of clarity brings you two closer together than you’ve ever been before.
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Finnick can’t die or get captured by the Capitol. It has to be me.
That’s your first coherent thought as the pedestal stabilizes in the arena. You find yourself growing oddly… familiar with this environment, these few seconds where nothing yet everything matters.
You can’t see Finnick or Katniss, but you recognize Johanna’s fiery red hair. You also spot Wiress and Beetee close together, and you let yourself relax for a moment before the canon fires.
Water.
You dive into the water without a second thought. Swimming is as natural as breathing, given your home district, and you easily outrace your competitors to the rocks that lead to the Cornucopia. You climb on the rocks with ease, and you’re running towards the center of the arena until you spot blonde hair struggling to swim in the water.
Peeta.
You don’t hesitate to switch course and dive in after him. Helping Peeta would not only get you further into Katniss’s good graces, but it would be right on target with your image in the Capitol.
That’s exactly the kind of thinking that Finnick encouraged.
You push your mentor out of your mind as you quickly peek above water and spot another male heading towards Peeta. His eyes are dripping venom, but you’re not scared to shoot a murderous look back. 
Sunny was a sweet mentor, a respectful celebrity, and a dangerous tribute. You could manage to be all three - as long as you did so with a smile on your face.
“Don’t be afraid to smile,” President Snow chides as you nervously stare at the carnations as his desk, “you know that’s what the people want to see, right?”
The image of Snow’s head on a large spike is enough to motivate you to swim faster than your competition. 
You push Peeta out of the way before landing a punch to the face of the other man. From a quick assessment, you weren’t as strong as this man, but he couldn’t fight in water like you could. 
You dodge an uncoordinated swing to your left side before landing another hit - this time you punch his chest. He takes a bigger breath as his eyes meet yours. 
You offer a warm smile before he tries - and fails - to land another hit. You look over for just a second, just to make sure that Peeta’s still in your peripheral vision, before the other tribute tackles you under the surface of the water.
You immediately thrash around as he tries to keep you under - a lucky breath saves you from drowning as you manage to free yourself from his grasp. 
He’ll drown if he tries to drown me.
You emerge from the water, and the warm air that enters your lungs causes you to cough violently. You grab onto a nearby pedestal as you try to locate Peeta in-between coughing fits.
You spot Peeta as he throws a punch at the man, and your head snaps to the Cornucopia as your breaths even out. From a distance, you see a man with a trident looking for someone, and you take a bet on who that might be as you wave a hand in the air.
Finnick immediately rushes around the Cornucopia after he spots you, and returns with a black-haired girl who you could recognize from a mile away. 
You swim towards the rocks before finally making your way out of the water. The warm air on all of your skin feels like relief in its sweetest form - one that is most welcome as you realize how drained you are from one simple encounter.
It has to be the water because I cannot be a weakness right now.
You point out Peeta in the water once Finnick and Katniss get closer, and Finnick doesn’t hesitate to dive in as Peeta continues to struggle in the water.
For the first time in a long time, you fear for his safety. Peeta’s a teenager, just like you were, but he’s already back in the arena.
This isn’t fair.
Words die on the tip of your tongue - comforting people was your speciality, but Katniss didn’t appear to need comforting as she raises her bow and prepares to fire an arrow.
When Peeta and the other tribute are submerged underwater before Finnick gets to them, Katniss reluctantly puts down her bow as she stares expectantly into the water.
You jump when the canon fires, and the hope in her eyes turns to fear as a still body emerges from the water. You’re scared to look because if it’s Peeta-
Thankfully, Peeta emerges from the water as Finnick reaches him, and they both swim back safely as you and Katniss share a relieved expression. 
Katniss watches the Cornucopia as the careers gather there and stare her down, and you grab Finnick’s trident from the rocks.
It doesn’t feel right in my hands - it’s like this weapon was meant to be with Finnick.
You hand Finnick his trident after he gathers himself, and you watch Katniss take Peeta’s hand and help him out of the water.
“You alright?” Finnick places a hand on your shoulder, and the weight of your earlier realization crashes down on you as you nod.
You can’t let Finnick get hurt, but you can’t let him know that you feel this way about him because you know how he feels about-
“I’m good, thanks,” You gently place your hand on his, “but you really couldn’t grab me a weapon?”
The serious expression melts off his face as he chuckles slightly, and you feel a bit self-conscious as Katniss and Peeta stare at you like wild deer.
“I didn’t have time, and I know you’re better with your fists, sweetheart.” Finnick replies to your teasing with a smile as he lets go of your shoulder.
You find yourself missing his touch - don’t think about Finnick like that - when Peeta steps towards you.
“Thank you fo-“
“You can thank me when we’re out of here, okay?” You interrupt him before another cannon sounds. “I don’t feel like becoming prey for the predators.”
Katniss glances back at the Cornucopia one last time as the four of you make your way towards the beach and into the thick forestry that awaits you.
~
Your quartet runs into the forest as Peeta leads with Katniss right behind him. Finnick allows you to go in front of him with a handsome smile and welcoming arm gesture (you’d have to tease him about that later).
Your mind wanders as your feet effortlessly navigate the forest floor - playing tag on rock beaches and having some experience in rock climbing did have its uses, after all.
Does Finnick mean what he says when he calls me sweetheart, or is it apart of the Capitol facade? I suppose I’m not much better - does Finnick know who I truly am behind the sunshine?
The distinction had become unclear for yourself - you were kind, but that wasn’t all that you were. You liked to tease your mentor and be a thorn in his side, but you also wanted to help the children in your district understand that there is life outside of the games. Couldn’t both sides of you coexist at the same time?
“Okay, hold up, hold up!”
Finnick’s voice causes you to pause as your breathing catches up with the rest of your body - you’d run a long distance without being phased in the slightest. You need to take breaks so you could be energized for a possible encounter, but a quick look back assures you that the Cornucopia is out of sight and, for now, out of mind.
Peeta’s the first to sit, and you’re quick to follow as you watch Katniss scan the environment for any possible danger. Finnick catches up and sits next to you. Katniss reluctantly kneels as you start to fan yourself - you’re in a jungle, not a forest, and it’s fucking hot.
“God, it’s hot,” You wipe the sweat from your forehead as Peeta speaks, “we got to find fresh water.”
You glance over at Finnick, who offers you a reassuring nod. You notice that Katniss is watching the two of you, but you choose not to say anything. She’s paranoid and overprotective, and who wouldn’t be?
A booming cannon pushes everyone’s attention to the sky, which is quickly followed by a second and third cannon.
With his bright smile and a small laugh, Finnick tries to lighten the mood with a simple joke.
“I guess we’re not holding hands anymore.” 
You briefly smile and chuckle under your breath before Katniss chimes in.
“You think that’s funny?”
Your eyes widen as you glance over at Finnick to see how he handles her aggression.
“Every time that cannon goes off, it’s music to my ears. I don’t care about any of them.”
“Good to hear.” Katniss draws a machete from her back as you place a hand on Finnick’s arm.
You’d always be there for him, and you’d fight off Katniss if that’s what it took, but you needed her alive, along with Peeta. Although you had know her for such little time, you saw your younger spirit in her - the feisty, brash child that fought with her heart in her hand.
“Wanna face the career pack alone?” Finnick pauses for a beat before asking her another question. “What would Haymitch say?”
“Sunny, you have to know that Katniss doesn’t play nice with others.”
“But she was nice to me, Haymitch-“
“You’re odd, just like she is. Maybe you can find some common ground and convince her to not shoot Finnick the moment he opens his mouth.”
“…Thanks.”
He’d probably tell you, at this very moment, to grab a drink and enjoy the show, but you had to keep the peace.
For his sake, for Peeta’s sake, and for my sake.
“Haymitch isn’t here.” Katniss coldly answers while slightly lowering her machete.
“We should get going.” You glance over at Peeta, who nods in acknowledgment.
“Yeah, let’s keep moving.”
You pull yourself off the ground, and Peeta does the same while Katniss stares daggers into Finnick.
“Play nice,” You mumble under your breath to Finnick before walking over to Katniss, “and I’m sorry that his ego can get in the way sometimes. He’s a nice guy, I promise.”
You offer Katniss a hand up off the ground as a truce, and a small smile appears and then quickly disappears off her face as she takes your hand.
~
“For the record,” Finnick mumbles as you walk with him behind Katniss and Peeta, “I was playing nice. She’s just a bit… rough around the edges.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.” You roll your eyes as Finnick bumps your shoulder.
“First you say I have an ego, and now this,” He sighs before playfully pushing you ahead, “I’m starting to think you don’t like me, Sunny.”
You feel your face start to heat up as you begin to fidget with a part of your clothing.
If only he knew how much I really liked him-
“Of course I do, Finnick.” You bite your lip while hoping that he doesn’t notice the effect his words and lingering touches have on you.
Don’t think about this right now-
“I’m glad someone here does.” 
His comment earns his a golden stare down from Katniss, and you lightly smack his shoulder before continuing on in silence.
Peeta cuts through the vines ahead as creatures of the jungles - ones that you hope aren’t here to eat you - make various noises that only set your nerves over the edge. Katniss falls behind you and Finnick, and you can only hope that you’ve set her mind off of killing Finnick, even if it’s just for a moment.
You continue to walk on, but you pause once you hear Katniss’ footsteps stop. Finnick doesn’t take notice of the situation, but you can tell that she’s seen something worthy of alarm.
Peeta continues to swing the machete when you see a small reflection of light on a bush in front of him. Your eyes widen in alarm as you take a small step back.
The forcefield-!
“Peeta, no!” Katniss screams at Peeta strikes the forcefield.
Sparks fly as you instinctually cover your eyes with one arm, and you use the other arm to shield Katniss as much as possible. Peeta is blown back by the impact, and you’re knocked to the ground along with Finnick and Katniss.
Katniss is quick to crawl to her knees as you follow suit.
“Peeta?”
Your heart aches as the weakness in her voice laces around every syllable of his name. 
She cares for the boy, more than she lets on.
She gently caresses Peeta’s face as you watch from a small distance behind her - she needs to check over him herself, to make sure he’s okay-
“He’s not breathing! He’s not breathing!”
You push Finnick towards the two of them, and Finnick harshly pushes Katniss out of the way so he can attempt to save Peeta. It’s a standard medical procedure that all District 4 families know by heart, but you place a reassuring hand on Katniss’ shoulder after she tries to pull an arrow on Finnick.
You know that words won’t do anything to comfort Katniss, and she rushes to Peeta’s side as you’re forced to be an uncomfortable spectator.
“Peeta, Peeta-“
You place a hand over your mouth as tears start to form in your eyes.
Come on, Peeta…
“Come on, come on!”
Finnick matches your worries as he continues compressions on Peeta.
“Please wake up.”
Katniss’ voice cracks which cracks the dam in your eyes as you begin to cry.
Katniss loves Peeta like I love-
You do your best to wipe the tears from your eyes as you imagine how the Capitol is enjoying the show. They’re watching three fierce competitors do their best to bring back another victor - a first in the history of the Hunger Games, you’re sure. You’re not even doing much but displaying your heart on your sleeve, and that’s enough for you to do. People stay attached and are sympathetic, and you can only hope that it’ll continue after you commit the worst crime, betraying the Capitol, after you get Katniss and Peeta out of here.
Peeta takes a deep breath, and you deeply sigh in relief as Finnick backs off to let Katniss and Peeta have a moment.
Once Finnick stands up, you pull him into a comforting hug, but you’re not sure if the hug is more for you or for him.
“I can’t-“
“I know.” He places a gentle hand on your back as you watch Katniss and Peeta interact.
“Do you wanna stand up?”
“Yeah.”
Once Peeta stands up, Katniss pulls Peeta into a hug as you let go of Finnick. You notice that Finnick’s hand doesn’t move as your heart pounds - this isn’t the moment nor is it your moment - as his eyes never leave Katniss and Peeta.
He knows, and I know.
~
Katniss throws a rock at the forcefield as a small group of sparks come from the collision. Peeta follows behind Katniss, and you follow behind Peeta as Finnick brings up the rear.
The next rock she throws reproduces similar results, but you notice that Finnick places a protective hand on your shoulder. You make your way through the jungle floor as Katniss throws another rock at the forcefield.
“Hold on.” She says before moving further ahead of the group. She climbs the largest tree she can find, and the three of you wait in silence before she comes back down.
“The forcefield is a dome,” Katniss reports after coming back down, “so we’re at the edge of the arena. I couldn’t find any signs of fresh water.”
Your throat dries up further at the mention of water. None of you will last long in this heat without any sort of hydration.
“It’s gonna get dark soon, we’ll be safe with our backs protected. We should set up camp - take turns sleeping.” Finnick sits next to you while looking directly at Katniss. “I’ll take first watch.”
Katniss scoffs before replying.
“Not a chance.”
Finnick gives her a disapproving look before grabbing his trident and standing up.
“Honey, that thing I did back there for Peeta? That was called saving his life. If I wanted to kill either of you, I would’ve done it by now.”
Finnick sticks his trident in the ground as Katniss continues to have a glare-off with him. Eventually, Finnick takes his trident and offers you a hand up. You quietly take it before shooting Peeta and Katniss an apologetic look - not your first, but certainly not your last.
“Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll take first watch.” Katniss instructs Peeta mores then telling him, but he reluctantly stands up.
“Just for a little bit.”
She nods as he moves to sit farther away from you and Finnick, but closer to Katniss.
He doesn’t trust us because she doesn’t.
You squeeze Finnick’s hand as you sit a few feet from the forcefield.
“Let me talk to her tonight. I have a way of charming people.”
“She’s tough to crack-“
“I did it before, in the practice room,” You say with determination while looking at him, “and I know I can do it again.”
He doesn’t answer, but he squeezes your hand in reassurance.
That’s good enough for me.
~
Peeta lays peacefully asleep as you sit on a nearby rock by Katniss and Finnick.
“How’s Peeta?” He softly asks.
“Is he well?” You add on while trying to break the palpable tension between you three.
Not three, but if they’re going to argue, then all of us will suffer.
“He’s okay, I think, just…” She trails off for a moment, “dehydrated, like the rest of us.”
Familiar music draws your attention to the skies as today’s victors-turned-victims display on the forcefield. There’s familiar faces, ones that you had come to befriend and love… it’s enough to drive you to tears. As the display continues, Finnick places a hand on your shoulder for comfort. 
It’s not enough, but it’ll do.
Peeta awakens too, and the four of you sit in contemplative silence as the display finally comes to a close.
“Eight.” Katniss says as you wave off tears.
“I’m fine, Finnick,” You gently brush his hand off your shoulder as you look up to the sky again, “but look at the sky!”
A small canister attached to a parachute floats down and lands a few feet from Katniss, and she’s quick to gather the canister. She opens the canister with easy, which contains a note plus something else you can’t quite see.
“Drink up?”
“What is it?” Finnick asks as you approach Katniss behind him.
“It’s from Haymitch,” Katniss picks the item out of the canister, “I think it’s a spiel.”
Katniss rushes past Finnick to pound the spiel into a nearby tree with a rock. Peeta rushes to Katniss’ side as the four of you watch and eventually see the spiel product water.
Haymitch did his part, which means that I have to do mine.
~
“I counted twelve.” Katniss notes as you look up to the sky.
“It’s midnight-” Finnick tries to add.
“-Or the number of districts.” Katniss challenges as you shake your head.
They can never agree on the simple things, huh?
A series of lightning strikes on a large tree in the distance draws your attention.
“Well, if you two aren’t going to sleep,” Finnick says as you nod in confirmation, “then I will.”
“Alright.” Katniss says as Finnick gets up from his post.
“Goodnight, Finnick.”
“Goodnight, Sunny,” Finnick looks back and offers you a warm smile, “make sure to get some rest.”
“I will.”
He silently walks away as you turn your attention to Katniss.
“I’m sorry about Finnick, he can be-“
“Why did you try to save Peeta earlier? You don’t know him.” Katniss bluntly asks.
“Peeta is important to you, and I wanted to spare you the pain that so many others face.” You truthfully answer as Katniss studies your face with scrutiny.
“You don’t know me either-“
“-Katniss, if I knew every person I’ve ever helped, I wouldn’t be Sunny,” You tell her, “and I don’t know who I would be if I wasn’t that person. I used to think Sunny was a persona, but it’s become who I truly am.”
“Were you someone different before the games?”
“I think we all were, if that’s not obvious enough,” You glance at Peeta before returning your attention to Katniss, “but I think the Hunger Games showed me who I truly was. Wouldn’t wish this shit on anyone else, though.”
“I-“
“I think you’ll discover that we’re not so different after all, Katniss,” You say before standing up, “but I wish you a good night. I hope the night is uneventful for you.”
You walk a small distance before turning back.
“Oh, and don’t be too hard on Finnick. He’s been through a lot more than he lets on.”
“Tell him to back off first.”
You chuckle as you lay down close to Finnick, but far enough that your beating heart doesn’t threaten to blow out your eardrums.
~
“Run, run! The fog is poison!”
Katniss’ words send you from slumber to alert as you’re the first on your feet. You move down the side of the hill as Finnick and Peeta catch up to you. You let Katniss pass you as Finnick pushes you in front so he takes up the rear. 
You continue to run through the forestry without a second thought as the thick fog chases you. The fog suddenly approaches from the right, and Peeta is quickly to avoid it, along with the rest of you.
As you round a corner, the fog then approaches from the left. You dodge the fog like you dodged arrows in your original Hunger Games. It was too easy, but you were concerned for Finnick since the fog was nearly kissing you.
When the four of you make it to a clearing, the fog makes a semicircle around you, and Peeta’s forced to lead the group in another direction as you aimlessly follow in the hopes that you’ll survive this.
The fog seems to increase in speed, and you scream in agony once it touches your skin. You barely avoid Katniss, who tripped in front of you, and Peeta goes back to save her. He’s burned by the fog too, and Katniss pulls him up before they follow behind you.
You continue in front of the group this time, and you hear Finnick’s shrieks from a distance, but you can’t go back for him. 
As long as he’s yelling, he’s alive.
It tears your heart into shreds to hear him, to hear those kids behind you, in so much pain. You immediately turn around when you hear a body fall to the ground.
“Peeta!” Katniss sticks next to him like a loyal dog as you watch from a safe distance. Finnick approaches the two of them, and he doesn’t hesitate to help Katniss by wrapping one of Peeta’s arms around his shoulder. As Katniss wraps the other arm around his shoulder, Finnick motions you to continue forward.
You run forward, safe from most harm, as the other members of your group continue to bear most of the brunt from the fog. A sharp hill awaits you, but you quickly navigate it as Katniss, Finnick, and Peeta fall, quite literally, behind you.
You cry in pain as you touch the back of your neck. You spot a nearby pool of water as the trio behind you makes a rough landing.
You watch in horror as the fog approaches, but it’s stopped by an invisible wall that barely prevents any injury to the rest of you. Your attention snaps back to the water - your neck really fucking hurts - as you approach the water. When you submerge yourself in the water, you sigh in relief as the stinging pain caused by the water rids you of your injury.
Once you’ve cleaned yourself up, you pull Katniss, the only person who seems to be awake, towards the water. With her determination and your strength, you get her to the edge of the water. You gently place one of her hands in the water, and she screams before the poison is released from her hand.
“The water- the water helped-“ Her strangled cry is heard by Peeta, who starts to pull himself towards the water as well.
You immediately move to Finnick’s side as you deliberately and slowly start to move him towards the water. Once Katniss and Peeta are mostly finished, they help you push Finnick fully into the water. He screams in agony as the three of you pour water over his body.
“Finnick-“ 
Emotions threaten to pour from your eyes and your mouth, but the sometimes-stoic Katniss composes herself before you can truly express how scared you are to lose Finnick.
“We need our weapons.”
Peeta and Katniss move to gather the weapons as you stay, dedicated, by Finnick’s side.
“C’mon, you need to get up. Who else is going to argue with Katniss over the simplest things?”
Finnick grumbles for a second before softly laughing.
At least I’ve made this shitty situation better for someone.
~
As Peeta gathers water from a nearby tree, you sit and pour water all over yourself in order to keep cool and clean any remaining toxins off of your skin. Finnick and Katniss do the same, but you give them space to talk things out with their words… instead of their fists.
They both mutter apologies to one another before Finnick pauses to stare blankly ahead. Your eyes catch sight of what he’s looking so intently at.
Mutts.
A gentle nod to Katniss alerts her of the situation as well, and she stands along with Finnick. You slowly try to back away before noticing that some are approaching from behind. You immediately backpedal next to Finnick and Katniss as they’re the only ones with proper weapons.
Where’s Peeta?
“Peeta.”
“Yeah?” Peeta looks up from the spiel towards Katniss.
“Back away from the tree, slowly.”
A growling mutt a few inches from his face causes Peeta to slowly back up towards the three of you. Once you’re all in the water, the mutts growl and slowly close in as your heart pounds. 
What am I supposed to do with no weapon?
“Get to the beach.” Katniss tries to move towards the newly sighted Cornucopia, but two mutts block your last escape route.
Katniss pulls her bow back as the mutts continue to advance on you. A mutt makes the first leap towards you and Katniss, but Peeta quickly strikes it down with his machete. They all growl angrily before one lunges towards Katniss from the opposite side. She quickly shoots it down with an arrow before killing another when it’s barely tried to leap at her.
Peeta swipes at a mutt that approaches you before gently pushing you behind him.
“I owe you one for earlier.” Peeta recalls the fight at the Cornucopia, and you nod before centering yourself between Katniss, Peeta, and Finnick. 
Finnick strikes a mutt down with his trident before smacking another back. Peeta continues to aimlessly swipe at a few mutts to keep them away, and you duck as Katniss shoots one over his shoulder. A mutt then jumps on Peeta and tries to sink its teeth into him, but he guts it with a blade through the stomach.
Katniss and Finnick work in harmony to push the mutts back before she successfully hits three mutts with her arrows and stabs the fourth with her bow. Peeta pulls his knife from the mutt before you help him up. The onslaught continues for a few moments which spreads seconds into eternal moments. You feel useless, but keeping yourself out of harm’s way is the best way you can help everyone. 
A mutt tackles Katniss into the water, but Peeta quickly kills it and helps Katniss up.
“Come on, we got to get to the beach!”
Peeta leads the way as you follow behind Katniss. You turn back to assure that Finnick is still there - you’re worrying about him when he has a weapon, he’ll be fine, Sunny - as you try to navigate your way to the beach.
A mutt jumps on Katniss and Peeta which knocks them further away. A separate mutt eyes you before jumping, and you attempt to send a punch its way. It takes a bite on your outstretched arm as you cry out in pain. You manage to wrestle your arm out of its grasp before Finnick spears it with his trident.
“How bad is-“
A few small incisions line your dominant arm, and they sting like hell, but you can’t focus on that now.
“I’ll live.” 
Finnick grabs your non-damaged hand as he spears another mutt that dares to approach him. He then lets go of your hand to kill a mutt that jumps on Katniss, but once she’s back on her feet, his hand finds yours again.
You gasp as you notice someone in camouflage with large bite marks covering their neck.
“Who is it?”
“It’s a Morphling,” Peeta explains to Katniss, “C’mon, help me get her.”
They grab the dying Morphling before dragging her to the beach. More mutts approach as Finnick lets go of your hand and pushes you ahead. 
“I’ve got this - just watch them.”
You nod before turning to follow Katniss and Peeta. Despite your painful arm injury, you run through the forest just as you did before. Pain was an adrenaline booster for you, and it was a scratch compared to the injuries you got from messing around on rock cliffs and beaches back in District 4.
You make it to the beach as Katniss and Peeta bring the girl into the water. Finnick tumbles in behind you before quickly recovering and pushing the remaining mutts back. Once he realizes that the mutts aren’t going to follow him, his eyes meet yours.
“You arm-“
“Look,” You point at the sky as another canister falls from the sky towards you, “I told you I’d live. I might not be the capitol darling, but they can’t let go of their little sister that easily.”
Finnick reaches the canister before you do, and he opens it to quickly to dig out the gauze and skin-applicable pain medicine.
“I suppose they wouldn’t mind seeing the Capitol darling tend to their little sister, then?” Finnick’s lips quirk into a teasing smile as you sit on the beach and admire the sky.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind.”
“Then that’s the only opinion that matters.” He sits next to you, and you present your arm to him. “You’re tougher than you act, honey.”
“I thought you knew that already,” You look away for a moment to hide your embarrassment, “after all, I did learn from an amazing mentor.”
The medicine feels cold once it touches your skin, and you sigh in relief as the pain starts to fade away.
“Did anyone leave a note?” You ask as Finnick looks away for a moment. “Oh, so I’m the one who has an admirer, and you get-“
You yelp when Finnick starts to harshly apply the medicine.
“-Jealous much?” You roll your eyes as Finnick laughs.
“Is it bad that I want your eyes on me and me alone?”
You’re left speechless as you bite your lip nervously. The invisible tension, the string that draws you two together, is finally pulled to its breaking point as you realize how close Finnick truly is. 
“It-“ You pause for a moment as your sunshine threatens to slip and reveal some deeper emotion in your heart, the one that you named before this fresh hell started. “It depends on what you’re going to do about it.”
Finnick sets down the medicine to grab the gauze, and once Finnick returns close to you, you push yourself on top of him to give him a kiss to release the emotions buried deep in your heart.
The sunshine clouds over as a storm brews, but you’re not scared of the damage that this thunderstorm will cause your mind. You’d accept once the outcome that you weren’t the one for him, that the signs were wrong and all in your head, and that-
Finnick kisses you back.
Oh shit.
Finnick kisses you. In the 75th Hunger Games. On TV. In front of thousands of his admirers.
Oh shit!
You pull away and place a hand over your mouth as you contemplate the absolute shitstorm you’ve just released on the both of you.
“You’re not a bad kisser, if that’s what you’re embarrassed about-“
“Finnick!” You squeak before smacking his arm.
“There’s only room for two people who can’t admit that they love each,” He nods at Katniss and Peeta in the distance, “and that image doesn’t quite fit either of us.”
“What are we, then?”
“Whatever you want to be.”
~
tagging -> @yokolesbianism
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jess-the-vampire · 1 month
Note
One reason people might think of arofam Philip as a "good" person could be because of comparison to canon Belos. So while arofam Philip is a deeply flawed person who has struggled and screwed up but nevertheless learns and tries to become better, set him next to canon Belos and he looks like an absolute angel.
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i mean he had to be this way for the sake of making him likable, it would be hard to do a swap with eda, where he'd HAVE to be one of the main protagonists, and keep him JUST as bad.
i mean, i'm sure that's an idea that can be done, but it wasn't what i was going for, again, i made this au as a joke at first.
Also i think some people tend to have a strong reaction to the very concept of him having any kind of redemption, even if it's being explored in an au. I was directly told once i was being blocked because belos was a father figure to hunter in my work, i'm not even sure if this person even knew any of the context of it being an au but they took one look at it and blocked me immediately.
moderate your own fandom i know, but the fact they went from wanting to follow me to wanting to block me how they did, gives off the impression i'm being judged for it.
and that probably would go for a lot of other people, anyone who follows the au knows au philip has done some BAD stuff, he's not some perfect angel and i never intended for him to be so.
but if you are someone who just sees "Belos is a nice person in this, BLOCK", you might be making quick judgements and jumping the gun a bit.
it's why i say "Context matters", and why i very clearly mark my work under the au in the tags
you don't have to LIKE belos in the show, that's fine, but i think it's important to not let that dislike impact how you treat other creators.
Aus are a great way to explore and try new dynamics, they're like a fun sandbox where you can try the most wild concepts, those concepts might not appeal to you and that's ok, but also let's not treat every au as a sign of anyone's morality and feelings towards the canon cast.
at no point did i want a redemption story for philip in canon, the fact he has one in the au and improves doesn't really change that. It's just been a fun ride to explore his trauma and explore a redemption of some kind within this sandbox for me.
and i'm not the only one who finds some enjoyment in that, clearly.
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findafight · 7 months
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I think the most insufferable part of the “Steve is the worst” refrain is that even when the change is acknowledged, they constantly make out like he’s on thin ice.
But the funniest part has to be that they write this whilst also having pretty much every new main cast member they add to show take a shine to him;
Billy just wants Steve to pay attention to him (and was bitterly disappointed that Steve was just some dude and not the raging asshole that everyone’s told him about)
Max hates teenage boys, but concludes she has found the one good one
Robin enjoys his company despite herself and becomes soul bonded to him
Eddie ends up being straight (I’m sorry) up *enchanted* by Steve, and we have a whole scene of him trying desperately to communicate this to him - of course Nancy wants you, dude! Who wouldn’t?
I know we’ve joked about Joe’s charisma, but canonically Steve’s must be *otherworldly*. Clearly the only reason Nancy didn’t let him fuck that old man was because the writers needed to make things difficult for them.
The show simultaneously trying to remind us Steve used to be a dick but is actually the most charming lad in all the land and is everybody's favourite most specialest boy. Like they try to make us remember Steve being mean but then it's also telling us he's a silly billy driving his bestie to school without questioning it and not knowing she doesn't even know how to drive. How are we supposed to think he's gonna backslide.
Lmaooo billy being disappointed Steve's not an asshole. It's no fun winning for him if it wasn't actually a competition :(
Max: no teenage boys allowed
Steve and Lucas: *exist*
Max: okay I will make an exception because they seem very nice
Dustin just consistently telling everyone he meets Steve is the coolest most badass person alive. Can you imagine the hero worship Suzie has heard?? (Suzie is also a Steve Stan and she hasn't even MET him)
Robin spends one month in close proximity to Steve and she's like well. Guess he's my best friend now!! And she was probably actively trying to not like him! And yet here we are! She liked him before they got tortured and she was probably so ticked off about how she, too, has fallen platonically for the Harrington charm. Not fair. Embarrassing.
Eddie spends less than a week around Steve and immediately joins his little cheer squad with Robin and Dustin. Like, if they wanted us to know that Steve was a dick to people for no reason in highschool Eddie would've been the person to use to demonstrate that, or the tension between who he was and who he is, but they don't! Eddie just admits he made assumptions about Steve without knowing much about him other than his rich parents and big house and popularity with girls, (saying more about himself than Steve) and then immediately jumps on the Steve bandwagon because now he can't understand why anyone who spent any amount of time with Steve wouldn't like him!
Even Nancy wasn't immune to Steve's charms in S4, and she had previously broken up with him messily! But all it took was a little bit of the town in danger and Steve trying to make sure everyone's on the same page while Looking Good for her to be Gazing Lustfully at him. That's why S2 and S3 had them separate for so long. Too long around him and she'd remember that she does find him cute and funny and brave and also hot.
Reasons Nancy stopped Steve from Fucking That Old Man: 1) writers needed them finding out info to be more of a struggle 2) they also probably didn't want a middle aged supposedly professional man sleeping with one of their teenage characters I guess 3) Nancy would have been wild with jealousy about the whole thing and stancy revival would have been much more obvious earlier, much more Nancy driven, and much funnier.
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becauseplot · 6 months
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Hi hello yes more thoughts about this hgduo pre-canon, hunger games/wars au(??) because my brain is rotating them at incredible speeds. (Obligatory cannibalism tw because yeah the lore do be like that.)
Bad originally finds Cellbit while the kid is trying to use a dagger to carve up a body to eat---key word trying. Bad stands back and watches him struggle for about thirty seconds before speaking up: "You're holding that wrong." (The kid jumps about two feet in the air. "WhhUH---") "Also you're not supposed to carve with a dagger, silly. You should really be using a knife. Here." And Bad passes him one of his hunting knives.
Bad mentally dubs Cellbit "Dagger-Kid" because he doesn't know Cellbit's name. When Cellbit later admits he doesn't know his name either, Bad officially dubs him "Dagger-Kid" or "Dagger" for short. ((For the rest of this I'll be calling Cellbit "Dagger")) ((Also I'm not 100% on this name yet but we'll see.))
I should note that I also think it would be funny that every time Dagger does something notable or reveals a new quality about himself, Bad tries to give him a new name. Like, they scavenge a piece of chocolate off one of their victims and Dagger loves it, so Bad tries to suggest, "Oh oh! What if we called you 'Sweets'! Or 'Chocolate'? 'Coco,' maybe?" all of which Dagger (playfully) rolls his eyes at. Bad rotates through nicknames regularly, but Dagger personally sticks with the first name Bad gave him.
Dagger was on his own for two months before he met Bad. He is injured and half-starved and utterly exhausted. The first time they make camp together, Dagger promises he'll take the first watch, but he nods off before even Bad can fall asleep. It's the first time Dagger has felt safe enough to truly relax, so his body just crashes. He sleeps for twelve hours.
This one's honestly more of a general qsmp headcanon I have but it goes here too: Bad teaches Dagger how to throw knives (for combat) and how to do knife tricks (for fun). Current-day Cellbit still remembers how to do the tricks, and he'll often use them as a way of fidgeting when he's thinking---with a pen or pencil instead, though.
One of Dagger's natural talents is stealth. He's not as quiet as Bad, but he's definitely good at it; his cat-hybrid traits definitely lend him a hand here, too. It's the main way Dagger survived before meeting Bad, stealing supplies out of camps while people were sleeping.
Bad, being a demon, doesn't need to eat, drink, or sleep as much as mortals do, and certainly not as much as a teenage boy. To him, it only seems practical that he gives himself smaller portions of their rations, or takes longer nightwatch shifts. But Dagger (who can scarcely imagine ever being not hungry or not tired, much less at the same time) is still grateful and feels somewhat indebted to Bad, even after Bad explains.
Dagger (a cat hybrid and a little more than a bit messed up) bites to show affection. Usually Bad's arm. Any normal guy would be injured by the force of Dagger's bite---Dagger doesn't really seem to understand that not-biting-hard is an option---but Bad doesn't really mind it.
(The truth is that deep down Dagger really wants to hug Bad, but he knows Bad isn't a very cuddly person, and yeah Bad might give him a hug if he asked but he's too afraid to ask so all that affection stays bottled up until it rises rises rises and he just doesn't know what to do with it anymore and it needs OUT---)
Bad thwacks Dagger upside the head with his tail whenever Dagger is being a "little rapscallion" and eventually Dagger starts retaliating. His tail isn't as long or flexible as Bad's but he definitely does try.
Bad has a lot of stories to tell. Some true, some made up on the fly. He's always liked telling stories, and Dagger is a captive audience. He learns Dagger loves mysteries, and suddenly, all of his campfire stories are about spies, and detectives, and red-string cork boards and espionage.
The thing Dagger fears the most is that one morning he'll wake up and Bad won't be there because Bad decided Dagger slowed him down and thus abandoned him. He thinks about this near-constantly. (The thing Bad fears the most is that one morning he'll wake up and look at Dagger and start caring like he used to a long, long time ago. He does not think about this at all.)
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lawlietscaramels · 4 months
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The person that asked about L with a reader with motor tics made me want to ask about headcanons for Mello and Near being close with someone who has both verbal and motor tics?
Reader with Tics ╾ Mello and Near
I was going to put verbal and motor in the title but it was so long... M & N (m'n'm haha) separately let's go!
 ★━━─・‥…━━━☆
Mello
the main canon thing I know about Mello is he's a bit of a dick. so I hate to say it but he's probably going to poke fun at you. until he realises he's genuinely upsetting you, at which point he mumbles something and stops.
you might find a box of chocolates outside your door as a wordless apology.
there will still be the occasional jab
but he's going to go "secretly a sweetheart" mode
because if he's close with you, he's close with you for a reason and that reason is that he cares about you. (even if he kind of hates himself for it)
So, like L, he'll start asking questions, some insensitive, but he's trying to learn so he is no longer such a dick. unlike L he won't do any research at all lmao so the most obvious things will leave him with a shocked Pikachu face...
I actually think if your verbal tics are words as opposed to simply humming or clearing your throat etc, he'd start saying those words more often. just using them in general conversation no matter what they happened to be.
that's actually something that a lot of people do, did you know? we tend to use words more often if we're close with people who say them often
someone will have to tell him eventually that drawing attention to tics can make them worse, at which point he'll freeze up for half an hour and stare at the wall - probably in embarrassment, it's hard to tell. for a few days after that he'll be really awkward just because he's not used to not talking about things.
Mello is the kind of guy who completely blows past taboos, but knowing that focusing on your tics makes it harder for you means he won't want to bring it up anymore
but yeah after maybe a week or so things go back to normal
well as normal as things can ever be with Mello around...
Near
Near, on the other hand, will seem not to notice you have tics at all no matter how disruptive they are to you or how often they show
but of course when you tell him he just quietly says "I know" and goes back to building a tower out of pipe cleaners. though he might invite you to join in considering you're already there
He's so much better about it than Mello lol
he just doesn't really care either way if you have tics or not...
you're still you.
I also hc that Near has some kind of motor disability that affects his legs so he probably is more understanding of potential discrimination or struggles you may have faced
if one of your tics led to you knocking down one of his buildings he'd get a little upset but definitely not as much as if anyone else did it.. he'd probably make you help him rebuild it... that or make you sit five feet away for a while
Like L, I think Near would probably get a little bit scared if your verbal tics were yelling out words. no, actually, he'd probably get a little shocked at any sudden movement or sound. he's not obvious about it though, his body just jolts a little and he goes still for a moment, then returns to normal
he doesn't really ask any questions because he probably already knows everything he wants to know, but he's happy to sit and listen while you talk about anything - tic-related or not - if you'd like that. he will probably not talk back though haha
er
I think if he heard anyone, particularly Mello, giving you trouble over your tics, he'd throw dice at them
... anyway
yeah he's just chill about it in general. Doesn't see it as anything that needs particular attention: he's more interested in your hobbies and whether you like solving puzzles than the fact that sometimes your body acts in ways you can't control.
bodies are pretty stupid, aren't they?
mmm, I think that's it. thanks for reading :)
 ★━━─・‥…━━━☆
𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖙 ˏˋ⋆˖⁺˖⁀➷ 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 + 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜
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The Caleb and Golden Guard Ghost or Illusion in For the Future is interpreted differently by fans and haters of Belos those who think he pure evil thought it was their ghosts haunting him for his sins while those who like him thought it was repressed guilt this has done nothing to help Belos’s reputation in the fandom and unless your chronically online those were illusions and to top it all off it was never mention again and Papa Titan dismissed him and some fans take his words as true. I think the Crew being vague on Belos Past and how sympathetic he is, is the main downfall of the show writing and one of the reason why Belos fans get bullied
I feel like that's just a problem with Belos in general; casual fans and those who dislike see him as simply evil and nothing more. But fans who were invested in the potential of his character and story obviously saw something more and the show was just vague enough to make convincing arguments that there was more to him.
It is extremely frustrating to have canonical facts such as the Wittebanes only becoming witch hunters to fit in, which has huge implications for their story and the themes of the show, only for that to never be mentioned again and for Masha to undercut their own story about how "little bro was jealous of big bro."
It feels like they're trying to have their cake and eat it too, by hinting at more subtle characterization only to ignore all that and have Belos act as their Generic Bad Guy Who Represents Societal Evils.
I don't think that the writing of Belos is the main downfall of the show, I think it's just a symptom of it. The show struggles with characterization by having characters not experience actual development but switching to a different character type. Eda goes from infamous criminal to Mama Eda but she doesn't spend enough quality time with Luz to justify the change. Lilith goes from intimidating head of the Emperor's Coven to history nerd who becomes besties with the resident joke character (let's also not forget how the show largely brushed aside the fallout of Eda's curse and Lilith having to share it just to atone). Hunter spends a few episodes as the Golden Guard and then he's Sad Boy Who is Abused. I've said before that the season 1 version (or first appearance in Hunter's case) of these characters are at their most interesting and unique but by the end, they're reduced to just generically nice people.
The villains, for better or worse, don't suffer this switch. They're exactly what they're presented as despite a few tantalizing details that would suggest otherwise. The end result is a bunch of characters who act as the plot requires them too, not because of actual character growth or dynamics.
On a separate note, I don't think Belos fans are bullied because his writing is sloppy. Even if he was more explicitly sympathetic, people would still find an excuse to harass fans. I think bullies just want to make people feel bad for engaging with media in a way that is different from theirs and no amount of "justification" can excuse that. People like villains, get over it. The kind of media and characters people enjoy usually has nothing to do with their morality. But how you treat real people certainly does.
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Round 1 - Side A
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Propaganda below ⬇️
Abuelita Alma Madrigal Propaganda:
There's a church in the Encanto as well as a priest and given how strong her grip is and how much of a control freak she is, I would very much doubt she'd allow people to believe in other miracles than Pedro's if she wasn't, herself catholic. Also I mean south american turn of the century family they're probably catholic.
Listen at least Alma is!!! The candle!! The importance of the church!!! The vibes are just there!!!! The idea of being a savior by sacrificing yourself (or at least your personality/grief) for your people? That’s SO catholic coded PLEASE
Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler Propaganda:
good lord where do i start. in the animated series he converts logan to catholisism and then fucks off basically thats the main thing he did there. i think one time they tried to make him a demon to explain how he looked but everyone hated that. he sold his soul one time to help his friends out after he died. he and logan have a weird little gay thing. he was a priest one time but he was made a priest by a fake bishop from a religion that hates mutants iirc so he just wasnt a priest. like 3 people have written him in a way i like and one of those is my friend just talking about how they view him.
wow marvel loves making catholic characters dress/look like demons
Kurt is a mutant who was born to mystique who looks a LOT like a devil (technically is half one but that cannon truth isn't real go back to bed), his mother dropped him off a cliff when he was born and he was picked up by a Romani group/circus (fuck old comics man) however he then narrowly escaped being sold to a freak show and found himself in a small German town. There he met a kind priest, who showed him God, and he quickly grew attached to the idea- However, it wasn't long before people began labeling him a demon and soon the whole town was against him with pitchforks and fire. Cornered and injured, Kurt thought this might be the end for him- maybe he would see heaven so long after finding it- but he was then saved by Charles Xavier who invited him to the X-Men. AND ITS BEEN SO MANY YEARS AND HE HAS BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH THERE. SO MUCH. SO GOD DAMN MUCH. BUT THE MOST AAAA THING TO ME CONCERNING HIS FAITH HE WHEN HE LITERALLY DIED AND WENT TO HEAVEN BUT THEN BECAUSE OF DRAMA WITH HIS FATHER HAD TO BRING HIS FRIENDS IN WITH HIM FROM THE BEYOND. THEN WITH ALOT OF TROUBLE THEY FOUGHT HIS FATHER AND THE ONLY WAY KURT SAW TO STOP HIM WAS IN A MOVE THAT STRIPPED THEM BOTH OF THEIR SOULS AND PUT THEM BACK ON EARTH. SO KURT CANONICALLY HAS NOW LOST HIS ABILITY FOR ETERNAL PEACE, LOST HIS VERY SOUL, TO SAVE PEOPLE- AND ALSO TOLD NO ONE NOT EVEN HIS GAY LOVER WOLVERINE.
Nightcrawler is a mutant vigilante who looks like a classical demon. He can't even go to church without people panicking and trying to exorcize him. Despite it all, he's so full of faith and hope and compassion, and he wants to believe the best of everyone. Also, he's bffs with an extremely angry Jewish sword lesbian. That has nothing to do with anything, but it's important to me that you all know that.
What if you were a devout christian and literally looked like the devil? He nearly became the pope, which was a plot by some supervillains that also involved faking a rapture? There is nothing like comics I swear to god.
A catholic who is half demon I don’t think I can better explain a struggle than that. But his character is so relatable to people who feel unwelcome with their congregation because of something that is a part of them but still feeling a connection to the faith. Kurt actively engaged in his faith and shares how his faith helps him through all the things he has faced in life and how he found a home with those of the church who leave the judging to God.
so they made kurt a priest briefly before deciding to retcon it, resulting in nightcrawler actually being part of a plan by villains to promote him to pope then reveal to the world that the pope is a demon. wild.
I have a side blog and a tattoo about him and i really really want him to win
Wisecracking devil-appearing devout Catholic with the Best superpower (teleportation)? HECK YES
German Catholic circus acrobat who looks like a demon & can teleport through a hellish alternate dimension with a puff of sulfur. Character of all time.
hes catholic and his dad is the devil. what could be funnier than that. also hes my silly little guy.
Nightcrawler is the world’s most fun catholic priest. I first was introduced to this kindhearted teleporting acrobat while he saved a boat full of stowaway refugees from inter dimensional pirates with swashbuckling gusto!
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greenerteacups · 4 months
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I absolutely adore your characterizations in Lionheart. Who has been the ‘easiest’ or most natural character to write, and conversely which character have you struggled the most with?
ooh, a fun one. so the answer's actually changed! right now, the most natural character to write is easily Draco (thank GOD, right?) i've developed the kind of intimacy with his brain in that special way that only spending 500,000 words and five years with someone can. it's at the point where I can basically just go, "what would Draco do here?" and have an immediate gut-check answer, which is great, and really speeds up the writing process. but in the beginning, he was much harder! I knew I had to sell people on this version of him that was already very far removed from canon, but couldn't be too OOC, or he'd just feel like some random pureblood Gryffindor OC. specifically, he needed to be bratty, cowardly and cruel, and yet also the kind of person the Golden Trio would conceivably befriend. all this had to happen while also being an eleven-year-old boy.
Hermione, in contrast, came much easier when she was younger. Baby Granger is nothing more or less than the world's nerdiest, bossiest, try-harding-est twelve-year-old, which i found fairly easy to write because i happen to have held that title myself. in later books, inversely, she's been much harder, because i have to convey more with less. Hermione hates talking about her emotions, for one, and even though draco knows her well, there's a lot about her he doesn't and can't understand, so i as the author am limited in my toolset for expressing what she's thinking. like, one of my biggest frustrations in book 4 was that hermione is almost assuredly having insanely complicated feelings At All Times about the Ministry of Magic and her muggle-born identity, but because draco's main coping mechanism for the situation is Don't Think About It. while we get some of it — get as much as I can cram in, frankly, without just dumping hermione in a therapist's chair and forcing her to digress — we don't get nearly as much as I would like. but hey, you know, at some point you have to throw in the towel and admit your story can't do everything. gotta leave something for the other writers, greedy.
the hardest character to write is and ever was Narcissa Malfoy, because she walks this fine line of sophistication and brutality, domesticity and professionalism, meticulous control and helpless madness. she's a woman of contradictions, and trying to weave that all together without losing sight of her, or making her flat, is a pretty draining exercise. i find myself procrastinating scenes with Narcissa, even though i love writing her, just because i know she's going to make me work for it.
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I remember once you said the creeps were like celebrities in the underworld, may I have some headcanons on the struggles they have?
I tried to choose a few of the biggest struggles that I think they have
Popular assassins (like the creeps) in the Underworld are viewed as a type of celebrity down there, and that comes with its own set of struggles. To avoid this, a lot of assassins will wear full masks or disguises when working or doing interviews, as this allows them to hide themselves and go about their lives normally, while others enjoy the attention and go out fully undisguised when working. I think there's a combination of this amongst the creeps, that some of them wear masks or disguises in my canon and some don't, but I do think it's standard practice a lot of the time for them to at least wear face coverings when going about their days in public.
One big struggle that assassin-specific celebrities have, is the fact that a lot of their "fans" or other assassins often challenge them to fights on a regular basis, especially the creeps in the mansion that top the charts as best assassins. Some creeps are challenged more than others, but it's not uncommon for some random hotshot in the Underworld to try and think they're stronger and better than the creeps, so a lot of them are in fights regularly. Something else these creeps specifically have to deal with that other assassins might not, is people using them in relation to Slender, as they're incredibly well known as working for him, so people try to use them to either meet Slender or get things from him, or if they dislike Slender, it's not uncommon for other business runners to personally track them down and talk them into working for them instead of Slender. 
Of course, they also have issues with fans seeing them in public and asking for pictures or autographs, which when it's one person isn't bad, but if it's a large group, it can be a pain in the ass, especially when it's a few of the creeps that don't really care about the fans. Jason, who is known for caring about appearances and his standing in high society, will always answer and talk to every fan he encounters, which pisses him off because internally he'd rather not be doing that, and he ends up late for everything. Then, there are creeps like Helen, that are known amongst their fans for being assholes. Helen doesn't like strangers, and if someone comes up to him he'll try and politely say to back off once, but if one person or even a large crowd keeps pushing him, he's not afraid to very loudly tell them to fuck off and leave him alone, which, unfortunately for him, has lead him to attract the crowd that's into that, many going out of their way to try and get him to yell at them. Some of the creeps with anxiety issues also struggle with this, like Toby, who hates crowded places, and so whenever a group of fans surrounds him it can lead to panic attacks and him completely shutting down in public and overloading, which is one of the main reasons he never goes in public alone or without a disguise if nobody can go with him.
It's also unfortunately not uncommon for the creeps to have stalkers, as the more unsavory folks in the Underworld tend to find qualities and skills that they have to be attractive, so a few of them have had some pretty bad cases of stalking over the years, but it's fairly common to get things like obsessive fan mail as well. The Underworld is also very fond of things like drama and rumors, so it's not unheard of for one of them to end up in a scandal, thanks to rumors and lies spread around in the industry and on social media down there. It got to the point for a while that none of them would go out in public with another person because for a few months, dating scandals were at the top of the charts, and they were constantly accused of dating each other and cheating on each other. Stuff like this can make actual dating incredibly difficult for the creeps, because if they bring their partner to the Underworld, there's a high risk of being spotted and photographed, or their partner having to deal with the drama of the creeps being rumored to be dating someone else, even outside of the mansion. Some of them have lost romantic relationships and even friendships to things like this, and so a few of them get to the point of either choosing not to date or keeping their romantic history completely on lockdown. However, a lot of them also aren't ashamed to step out in the spotlight and make it incredibly well-known that they have a romantic partner, and that that romantic partner isn't going anywhere.
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bonesandthebees · 2 months
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random anon throwing in my two cents (all that’s in my wallet actually) but while i don’t mind in the context of Hanging Rose if wilbur becomes willum since tommy is already tomys, in general i am very leery of name changes. because it’s you, I’d probably still give anything you read a chance since you’re epic, but i usually don’t even touch a fic when a name gets changed. for some very fanon-relevant characters (which sbi definitely are. I’ve read so many versions of who they are /pos), names are often one of the few consistent, binding things, so I feel like if you take that away it’s suddenly just some other guy. a different character. “what’s in a name” and all that. to me, c!wilbur is very different from somebody with all the same characteristics and looks but named walter or smth (there’s a walter white joke to be had in here somewhere. pretend I made it and that it rlly landed good and normal). ive seen similar things occur in different fandoms where the most oc’ified characters get their name changed constantly (hadrian black…….) and it just fails to rlly feel like the same character, superficial though a name may first seem. im attached to the characters, and a lot of a character is defined by name in fics. but when it comes down to it obviously just do what you want and live your best writing life in whatever way is most comfortable for you!
this is a very good point and one I pretty much agree with. in the past I've very much been against the oc-ification of characters in fandom spaces solely because like what you said, I'm attached to the character and it fails to feel the same. this is just... an unusual situation I'm struggling to find the right way to deal with. like, yeah, I think I've done a lot more character work on c!wilbur than cc!wilbur ever did. but I am attached to the character from canon itself.
I do want to emphasize for all that I've been saying the character is mine now, I have always been very focused on writing c!wilbur in a way that feels in line with the character and that's not going to change if I do end up finishing rose. the only reason I've considered using willum as a name is because in the fic itself, rose!wilbur's name is already willum. like, that's his full name and wilbur is a nickname. if I switched the text to call him willum solely, nothing about him as a character would change. I would still be writing c!wilbur. I wouldn't be trying to change him to turn him into my oc. the only purpose the name change would serve would be to help readers have an easier time feeling the separation of c!wilbur and cc!wilbur
also, the main reason I feel like this could work is because an anon helpfully pointed out earlier that, like, 75% of glass divine never called him wilbur. it only called him the pythia. and the readers seemed to have no issue with that so I feel like switching to willum would be more akin to that rather than me trying to oc-ify c!wilbur
I hope that makes sense!
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