#also his pupils can appear and disappear and even change shape!

[defness]

Dark Deal

Transparent :3

#also his pupils can appear and disappear and even change shape! #def's art #oc tag #OC tag: Hallow #Hallow

[elmarcyarka]

{HxH OC}

Name: Tollui Zoldyck Age: 26 (2 years older than Illumi)

Gender: Male

Nen Type: Manipulation

Occupation: Assassin, Hunter

Appearance:

Tollui Zoldyck stands tall (6'5) and lean with a striking physical appearance. His jet black hair flows down his back in untamed locks, while his pure black eyes lack pupils, giving him a somewhat trance-like expression. His oval-shaped face features sharp angles and contours, adding to his enigmatic aura. Tollui is known for constantly wearing an empty smile, concealing his emotions. He typically dons a jet black cloak that drapes to the ground and merges with his shadow, intensifying his already menacing presence.

Personality:

Tollui Zoldyck is a reserved individual with a calm and serious demeanor. He speaks sparingly and often wears an empty smile that makes it difficult to discern his emotions. Tollui has a peculiar fascination with shadows, which he finds endlessly fascinating, spending hours watching them move and change. He even developed a personal theory that shadows are a manifestation of the human soul. Tollui can often be found playing with shadows absentmindedly, shaping them into different forms or creating shadow puppets.

Despite his serious demeanor, Tollui has a mischievous side, finding joy in causing discomfort to others. He is not above using his Nen ability to scare or intimidate people for fun. Tollui's acute observational skills allow him to quickly evaluate his surroundings, making it difficult to catch him off guard. Additionally, Tollui's sense of presence is almost non-existent, often causing people to forget he exists even when he's standing right beside them.

Unlike most of his family, Tollui leans towards a business-oriented mindset and follows in the footsteps of his grandfather, Zeno Zoldyck. He recognizes the value of financial gain and seeks ways to enhance the family's wealth and influence. However, Tollui has his own set of principles and is extremely pragmatic. He will not resort to killing unless it can bring him some sort of benefit, whether financial or strategic.

Tollui is most comfortable and effective when operating in the dark, surrounded by shadows. He has a habit of humming a tune or melody whenever he uses his Nen ability, which adds to his enigmatic presence. Despite his eccentricities, Tollui has a softer side, demonstrating his affection and respect for his family members by bringing them thoughtful and meaningful gifts whenever he visits. Gift-giving is Tollui's love language, and he values it as a way to show his affection for his loved ones.

Background:

Tollui's background is a mystery that only adds to his elusive nature. Trained by his grandfather Zeno Zoldyck, Tollui learned to cultivate a sharp mind for business and strategy, as well as an unwavering sense of pragmatism. His grandfather's teachings had a profound impact on Tollui, shaping him into the person he is today.

Despite being a member of the illustrious Zoldyck family, Tollui spends most of his time outside of Kukuroo Mountain, pursuing his own clandestine agenda. His family is largely unaware of his activities, which only adds to his enigmatic persona.

With his extremely low sense of presence, Tollui can easily fade into the background and be forgotten by his own family if they are not paying close attention. He is even able to conceal himself from the watchful eye of his grandfather Zeno.

Tollui's mastery of concealment is unparalleled among his family, making him the go-to person for stealth missions. His unparalleled ability to blend in with his surroundings and disappear without a trace has earned him a reputation as the best in concealment among his family. However, his low sense of presence can also be a double-edged sword, as it makes him vulnerable to being overlooked by those who know him well.

Skills and Abilities:

Stealth and Assassination: Tollui is a master of stealth and assassination, with unparalleled skills in both areas.

Hand-to-Hand Combat and Weapons: Tollui is an expert in hand-to-hand combat and weapons, able to wield any type of weapon with deadly precision.

Resilience to Poisons, Electricity, and Pain: Tollui has an incredibly high tolerance to poisons, electricity, and pain, making it almost impossible to incapacitate him.

Unmatched Flexibility: Tollui can bend his body to unnatural proportions, allowing him to fit through extremely tight spaces and move undetected.

Enhanced Speed and Stamina: Tollui has enhanced speed and an exceptional level of stamina, enabling him to outrun and outlast his opponents with ease.

Infiltration Techniques: Tollui is a master of infiltration techniques and possesses extreme physical conditioning and endurance, allowing him to carry out missions under the harshest conditions.

Expertise in Poisons and Chemical Agents: Tollui possesses extensive knowledge of poisons and other chemical agents for use in assassinations.

Surveillance and Reconnaissance: Tollui is proficient in surveillance and reconnaissance techniques, enabling him to gather intelligence and monitor targets.

Multilingualism: Tollui is adept in various cultures and languages, allowing him to operate seamlessly in different regions of the world.

Nen

Name: Shadow Manipulation (type: Manipulation)

Description: Tollui is a Manipulator who can manipulate shadows with his aura, allowing him to control and move them as he wishes. The shadows Tollui controls are usually in the form of tentacles or tendrils.

Conditions and Limitations:

Tollui must have a direct line of sight to the shadow he wishes to manipulate.

Tollui's manipulation range is limited by the amount of aura he has. He can extend his range by emitting more aura, but this consumes more of his Nen capacity. The complexity and size of the shadow will determine the amount of aura required to manipulate it.

Tollui can create and manipulate simple shadow shapes with minimal aura consumption, while more complex and larger shadows require greater expenditure.

Tollui's ability is most effective in darker environments, where shadows are more abundant and easier to manipulate. In bright, well-lit areas, his ability is limited and requires more aura consumption.

Tollui's emotional state greatly influences his ability to manipulate shadows. He is most effective when he is emotionally clear and focused. Conversely, if he is emotionally unstable or distracted, his ability is weakened, and he risks losing control of the shadows he is manipulating

Applications:  .

[Figure in The Dark] (Manipulation): Tollui can cloak himself in shadows to move undetected, making it difficult to sense his presence even when passing by. He can emerge and blend into shadows. This only works in shadowy areas, and he can hide even in someone's En if he remains still.

[Shadow Footbind] (Manipulation): Tollui is able to manipulate his own shadow and connect it to an opponent's shadow. Once the connection is established, the opponent will feel as if their feet are glued to the ground, restricting their movement and making it difficult for them to escape.

[Shadow Stitch] (Manipulation): Tollui can manipulate shadows to create sharp tendrils that can pierce through an opponent's body, causing intense pain and potentially lethal damage.

[Shadow Decoy] (Manipulation): Tollui creates a shadowy copy of himself that can move independently of his real body. The decoy can distract opponents and draw their attention away from Tollui's real location, allowing him to attack or escape unnoticed.

#OC #Elmarc's House of Ideas #my OC #original character #hxh oc #hunter x hunter oc #hxh nen ability #zoldyck #zoldyck oc

[paper-n-ashes]

Here

Characters: Dan Jones x Reader

Words: 1.9k

Warnings/Tags: Explicit (18+), mentions of sadness/depression, PIV sex, otherwise it’s the fluffiest fluffy fluff

Author’s Note: The last repost. A piece I wrote to work through my own issues at the time. A reminder to anyone, if you feel down, unhappy, or even just a bit flat, feel free to reach out to me. I will always make time for you as an ear to listen or a distraction with Oscar or Adam gifs 🥰

It had been a long and draining day. Not unusual really. Every evening Dan trudged up the stairs to your shared apartment, he felt much the same way.

Tired. More emotionally than physically. The things he read, the truths he was unravelling… It was truly soul-sucking work. Yet just the image of you, patiently waiting for his return home after another late night, provided a stark light in the darkness he found himself momentarily falling into as his muffled footsteps echoed down the hall.

He knew he was lucky. Lucky you were so patient. So understanding. Always waiting on him. Spending more time apart than together. The cancelled dinner dates, the events you’d had to attend alone, the weekends away you never got to plan, believing his work was more important.

There wasn’t a single time you complained. Always giving him the same loving smile, one he wasn’t sure how he deserved.

It wasn’t on your face when he slipped through the door. Curled up on the couch, knees hugged to your chest, you looked… sad.

Noticing his entrance, your expression quickly changed, beaming as your eyes locked with his. “Dan,” you breathed, a relieved edge to the name, releasing yourself from the tense ball and rushing to join him at the entryway.

The room was dim, air filled with silence as you slinked your arms under the jacket of his suit and around his torso, squeezing tight.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“You don’t need to say that every night,” you urged, words muffled into his chest.

“I know.” He still would, no matter how much you protested. Stroking a palm over your hair, Dan touched his lips to your forehead. For a moment, he simply breathed you in. Relishing the flowered perfume still lingering on your skin that would forever remind him of you.

It was such an unexplainable phenomenon. How you eased his stress with a single warm embrace. He hoped he could do the same for you.

“Is everything alright?” he asked softly.

“Absolutely,” you lied, nodding against his crisp, collared shirt. “You’re home now. Everything is just fine.”

Dan couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of your response. But he also wasn’t stupid. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You shifted your head to look up at him. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

There was a redness around your eyes that became glaringly clear. Crying. You’d definitely been crying.

A thumb traced the line under your lower lid. “Please don’t lie. I have to deal with enough of those every day.”

Your mouth twisted, feeling your throat tighten. Unknowingly, he’d illustrated exactly why you tried to hide your sadness in the first place. He didn’t need your burden. He already had enough weighing on his shoulders.

But you also knew he wouldn’t let this go. The man was a bloodhound for seeking the truth, and the way he was looking at you now, features filled with heartbreaking concern, your resolve weakened.

Taking a deep breath, you were honest. “I’ve just been feeling a little… sad lately. Not a big deal. It’ll pass.”

Dan’s eyebrows drew together, heart already aching at your admission. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

You shrugged, pupils darting to the floor. “A few days. As I said, not a big deal. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Two palms quickly found their way to your cheeks, forcing your stares to lock. He looked almost panicked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’ve got other things that need your attention-”

“You think your sadness is not worth my attention?” he cut off, positively stunned at how casually you’d spoken your answer.

It’s what he’s always feared. This. Shielding him from the troubles in your own life while you joined in fighting his. Being his remedy, his source of comfort, while you struggled alone.

“It’s okay,” you attempted to soothe. “I can handle it myself, really.”

He shook his head. “No. No. You shouldn’t have to.”

Your fingers grazed lightly over the clean-shaven line of his jaw. “You’re so busy-”

The sentence couldn’t be finished, pulled into a squeezing embrace, hands cradling around you. “I will never be too busy when you really need me. Ever.” Breaths began to waft over your hair, Dan’s voice riddled with a gentle urgency. “And I’m here right now. Tell me how to make this better. Please.”

His caring hold had your resilience failing, unable to camouflage the misery you’d been feeling any longer. “I don’t even know h-how… What I need…” you quivered, voice starting to break. A sniffle escaped, barely able to suppress the urge to cry.

Dan wasn’t ever particularly good at solving problems. He knew that. Finding them, providing the support others needed to take action, that was his sweet spot. What he was good at. So that’s what he would do now.

The pressure around your body vanished, only for Dan to dip down and pluck you into in his arms, bridal style, carrying your body effortlessly to the bedroom.

His movements were cautious, making sure to place you delicately into the mattress. Without removing a single piece of clothing, shoes still on, he laid down, making your shape curl into his.

“We’re going to lay here for a while, okay? However long you want. You don’t have to talk. You can just… be sad.” Another kiss landed on the top of your head. “If you need me to do something, if you figure out what might help, I’ll be here. I’ll be right here.”

That did it. The wall you had been forcing to remain standing, now a crumbling pile of rocks, leaving you exposed. Vulnerable.

You began to cry.

At first, it was a soft weeping, tears wiped away by your own shaky fingers. Yet restraint withered into nothing, succumbing to the gloom that had haunted you for days.

Your breaths were harsh through heaving sobs, first clutching into Dan’s shirt, salted droplets staining the white fabric.

He couldn’t deny, it was painful to see you like this. To hear the whimpers of your distress. A slight wetness appeared at his corner of his eyes, clutching you closer. It was all he could do. Remind you of his presence, stroking your back as you let your emotions spill over.

As minutes passed into the next, your crying slowed, yet the quietness that followed was never broken. You both remained muted in the darkness, a tangle of limbs, your face nestled into Dan’s neck, his cheek resting over your hair.

Soon, without intention, the two of you fell asleep.

*

It was close to 3am when you woke again. Blinking through the haze of slumber, Dan rustled next to you, still fully dressed in his work attire.

Recent memories came surging through, the way he’d given you everything you needed, by doing nearly nothing at all.

Illuminated only by the light streaming through a set of half open blinds, your eyes wandered over his peaceful, dreaming face.

You didn’t get to see it as often as you liked. But when you did, you were infinitely grateful. Every long absence kept you savouring the time together more deeply. Quality over quantity.

A crackled snore suddenly broke through, having you fighting back a laugh. Dan shifted, still unconscious, turning closer into you, draping an arm over your waist. With a humming sound, you noticed a tiny smile curl his lips.

Oh, how you loved him.

You wanted to show him that, right now.

Carefully, you wriggled upwards, enough that you could press a dainty kiss just above the bridge of his nose. When he didn’t respond, you repeated the action, bringing your fingertips to his hairline, nails skimming over the inky strands.

You watched as his eyes fluttered, a sigh leaking from his throat. Before he could enter back into reality again, your lips landed on his, rolling over the supple pillows of flesh.

His reaction was sluggish, still gripped by a fog of fatigue, although soon his fingers were reaching into your hair, pulling your face even closer to strengthen your adoring kiss.

Words weren’t needed, Dan realised this as you began to unfasten the knot of his tie.

You’d figured out something he could do. Funnily enough, it was what he needed too. To make sure you knew exactly how much he loved you.

You’d done this dance many times, peeling off each other’s clothes. Yet this time felt… different. There was no rushing, no impatience. You both took your time, uncovering each portion of skin without reckless abandon.

With more exposure, Dan had more parts of you to kiss. So he did. Trailing them down your arms, your legs, his touch skating over your skin with such tenderness it made you shiver.

Eventually, the last piece of clothing that remained was your panties. Usually, being so desperate to fuck you after days going without, they’d be ripped off, sometimes even pulled to the side in his hastiness to fill you.

This time their removal was unhurried, restrained, Dan gliding the flimsy material down your legs with a calm poise.

Below, you noticed his touch disappear, looking up to see his stare roaming over your bareness.

So beautiful, he thought. Your body bathed in moonlight. While he wanted to speak it out loud, there was something poignant about the way the silence had continued to linger. He didn’t want to disturb it.

Instead, Dan covered your figure with his, skin to skin, scooping hands under you jaw. Another collision of your lips ensued, the exchange unabashedly passionate and filled an emotion too intricate to name.

Within an unspoken moment of harmony, Dan moved, lining himself to your entrance between your opened legs.

You’d been taken by him many times. In the bathroom stall on your first date. Over tables. On chairs. Floors. Kitchen counters. Countless times in this very bedroom. On this very mattress.

None of those scenes produced the same sense of satisfaction you felt as he sunk into you now. Not from the sensation itself, but the meaning behind it.

Words were fickle. They could be misconstrued. Altered by tone. Changed by moods and attitudes.

The way Dan began to thrust, steady yet severe, bruises being made from his grip at your back, kiss consuming your mouth and every facet of your thoughts…

There was no differing interpretation. No miscommunication. The definition explained merely by the feeling invoked from every action each of you made.

Two people. Expressing love in the most basal way in existence.

For a long time, longer than previous encounters, Dan worked himself in and out, relishing the feeling of your silky wetness, the whimpers he heard with each drag of his length.

Although, the feel of you clenching around him, when your thighs wrapped around his hips to to force his pelvis into yours with increasing intensity, soon had Dan struggling to stave off his release.

He didn’t ask to let it overtake him. Somehow, he knew didn’t need to.

Hurdling into a decadent climax, Dan drove hard into you, painting the deepest parts of your centre, filling you with everything he could give.

Slumping into your form, his nose burrowed into the curve between neck and shoulder. “I know I’m not always here,” he murmured. “But I’ll always be here. For you. Please remember that.”

Fingers swept over his messed hair. “I don’t think you’ll let me forget.”

One final kiss brushed over your throat. “Never again.”

*

@tlcwrites @roanniom @maryforyou @mariesackler @sacklerscumrag @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @mylifeisactuallyamess @hopeamarsu @foxilayde @goddesstonythetiger @caillea @direnightshade @blackberries45

#dan jones #dan jones x reader #paper-n-ashes #adcu

[havin-a-wee]

Stars Align

pairing: harry styles x y/n

warnings: fluff, ig you could consider it angst but its really just mysterious

word count: 2k

hello! i apologize for kind of disappearing, my fic rec account has kind of blown up and ive been super busy with that.

this is my entry for @sweetlygolden 's Harry On Holiday Challenge! i chose strangers in the same city, and the line prompt “That is the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen.” i honestly already have a part 2 planned out but we'll see how it goes!

“How much longer are you going to stare at that pretending like it’s interesting.”

Her soft voice surprised him, and he whipped his head around to see who had been speaking to him.

For the first time in a while, Harry was able to get away for a little. Of course, he travels a lot for work, but this was the first vacation since he can remember where he was alone, doing whatever he pleases. He chose Italy for this special occasion, because it’s always been one of his favorite places, and he missed the freedom of wandering around the boot shaped country without a care in the world.

The day's adventures had brought him to La Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea, which is a museum that he's been wanting to see for quite some time. He started the day off by getting a cappuccino and a crespelle from a wonderful little cafe down the street from his hotel.

Right afterwards he walked to the museum, taking in the sights around him on the 20 minute trek to his destination. Before the woman behind him snatched his attention, he was staring at a painting of an abstract house. The house was only painted in blue, and the artist had used the different shades and tones of the color to create the details in the painting.

He had been staring at it for a good amount of time, which he assumed is what prompted the stranger to talk to him.

It’s his 3rd day on the trip, leaving him 4 more until he has to be back in L.A. for work. He has no plans, no schedules, no job to do. It’s just him and the world. At least, that’s what he assumed it would be. The vacation is supposed to be a solo one, however, he’s currently staring at a stranger that decided to speak to him. And for some reason, he is drawn to her. Compelled to spend time with her after just a simple sentence was spoken between the two of them.

When he fully turns around she jumped, a bit startled by his bright red complexion. “That is the worst sunburn I have ever seen!”

It was true, Harry had managed to get himself a nasty burn on the first day in Italy. He usually tans instead of getting a sunburn, but when you’re used to the dreary weather of the UK, it can be hard to forget how strong the sun is in other places.

So he had laid out on the beach and fell asleep, waking up a few hours later with tomato red skin and a burning sensation covering the exposed skin.

“That’s what happens when y’fall asleep on a beach in Rome,” he chuckled, smiling awkwardly at the woman before him.

She’s beautiful, there is absolutely no denying that. She was wearing a simple spaghetti-strap black dress that cut off right at the knee. There were no designs, no embellishments, just a black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her lips have a deep red lipstick smeared across them, and he couldn’t help but notice how the color complimented her skin tone. Her simple black pumps completed the outfit, and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, with a few of the front strands falling out of the hair tie and framing her face.

“I’d assume so.” Her demeanor is serious, even though there's a smile on her face. She’s…..intimidating?

Harry hasn’t been intimidated by anything since he was a teenager. Once you perform in front of thousands of screaming people, who also happen to idolize you, things don’t tend to phase a person anymore.

But for some reason, her presence caused butterflies to fly around in his stomach, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. He actually enjoyed the feeling, it reminded him of when everything was normal.

What also reminded him of normality was the fact that she seems to not have the slightest clue of who he is. If she does, she’s sure as hell good at hiding it.

“You’ve been looking at the same painting for 10 minutes, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep.” A small laugh escaped her lips, and the noise agitated the fluttering butterflies residing in his tummy. Her voice is mesmerizing, and she sounds like what Harry imagines an angel to sound like. She has an American accent, and it eased his nerves slightly that she was also a tourist.

He turned back to the painting to look at it, but it was also convenient in that she wouldn’t be able to see his undoubtedly flushed cheeks.

“Yeah m’not sure what it is ‘bout it but there’s somethin’ special with this one.”

“That’s Prismi lunari by Fortunato Depero, he was very talented.” Harry spun around once again to face her, shocked at her knowledge of the random artwork.

“You know that off of the top of your head?” He tilts his head and looks at her, furrowing his brows in confusion. He’s pretty sure there was no label for the painting, and if there was it was way too small for her to see from where she’s standing.

“I know a lot of things.”

The statement was simple, but Harry wondered if her words paired with the smirk on her face are code for something else. “How long have you been here?” Her question snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at her and smiled. He flicks his wrist and directs his attention to it, reading the Gucci watch adorning his wrist.

“Well I got here at 11, so about 5 hours.” It honestly surprised him when he realized it was 4 o’clock, but he knows how wrapped up he gets in artwork so he must have lost track of time.

“Jesus christ! I can barely stand to walk around a museum for an hour!” She blows out a puff of air, mocking being out of breath. They both laugh at her comment, Harry laughing a bit harder than her. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! M’Harry, s’nice to meet you.” He stuck out his ring-clad hand, and her delicate fingers wrapped around his as she shook it.

“Well Harry, wanna get out of here and walk around with someone who knows the city?” She points at herself, and the small smile she gave him earlier transformed into a silly grin.

“Well m’not sure how well an American can know the city, but I’ll bite.” Usually he would never do this. Going off with strangers is never a good idea, especially because of his status. But there’s something about the girl that makes Harry feel safe. They had just met yet he feels like he could trust her with things he hasn’t even told his best friends.

“An American who’s been living here for a year, that is.” His eyebrows raise slightly, intrigued by her new admission. But before he can even open his mouth to speak, she grabs his wrist with her daintily manicured hand and whisks him out of the quiet museum.

The air was humid, quickly drawing beads of sweat from his forehead. He’s also quite baffled at how she was completely unphased. Not a single drop of sweat was dripping on her body, her soft skin untouched like an old porcelain doll, preserved for years in perfect condition.

“I’ll show you around a little, we can go to this wonderful little vintage store I know.” She had turned to face him, her hand moving from his wrist to cup his one hand in both of hers. “Um- at least, if you want to.” For the first time, she was nervous. Although she will never admit it, Harry makes her extremely nervous. Extremely.

When he turned around when they first met, her jump of surprise wasn’t just because of his bright sunburn. In fact, it wasn’t about that at all. It was about how fucking attractive he is. He really looks like one of the statues that was put up in the museum. His sparkling green eyes send a shiver down her spine, and the tattoos peaking through his thin white t-shirt cause a fire to build in her stomach.

Having someone to talk too while he traversed the streets of Rome is a lot more enjoyable than Harry had anticipated. He purposefully told all of his friends that he was going to be MIA while on this trip. But the fact that she is a stranger changes it in some way, in a good way.

The cobblestone streets are surprisingly smooth, and they walk next to each other in a comfortable silence for a long amount of time. The silence would only break when she would point out something in their field of vision. At one point, Harry pauses, standing still in the middle of the street with a thinking look on his face. He realizes that he doesn’t know her name, which seems ridiculous to him because they were walking around a foreign country like the best of friends. She turns to him, matching his confused look when they lock eyes. “I just realized I don’t know y’name.”

Instead of reacting like he would expect one to react when asked that question, her pupils dilated and for some reason she appears to be scared. Why would someone be scared when you ask for their name?

‘Maybe she thinks her name is embarrassing’ Harry thought, still looking at her with a confused look, but now it was laced with a bit of suspicion.

He watches her sigh, and her hand went up to her ponytail and pulled the black elastic out, her soft hair cascading down her shoulders. With another sigh she said, “Y/N. My names Y/N.”

“That’s a really beautiful name.”

“Oh! There’s the store!”

He found it odd that she was so eager to switch the subject, but goes along with it nonetheless.

The vintage store is lovely, and Harry was able to find a beautiful ring and necklace set, matching gold roses on both of them. They looked around the shop for about 15 minutes, Harry being the only one to make a purchase.

The sun had set by the time they went outside, which isn’t surprising considering that it was almost dark when they walked into the little shop. They stood, facing each other outside of this small little shop in Rome. Two strangers, who just happened to cross each other's path. Harry knows this won’t last forever, and he also knows that he wants to see her again. In a leap of faith, he pulls the gold necklace out of the small brown bag and looks up at her.

“Here, I got them so we could match.” It was bold, but Harry feels connected to this girl, and he doesn’t know it, but she feels the exact same. The smile she gave him when he handed her the necklace was bright and genuine, the creases next to her eyes proving its authenticity. He motioned for her to turn around, wrapping the necklace around her neck and clasping it while she held up her hair.

“Thank you Harry. This is the best day I’ve had in a while.”

“Likewise.”

“I hate to do this, but I have to go. Have a wonderful rest of your trip Harry.”

It was then that she placed a small, tender peck on his lips, barely lingering for a second before pulling away.

“Wait! Can I get y’number?” Her smile slanted into a smirk, and she pulled a small card and a pen out of her small black clutch. She placed the card up against the brick wall, leaning it against it and scribbling something down on the paper. When she finished writing, she pressed her lips against the card, handing it to Harry.

He looked down at it, expecting to see a series of numbers, but he was met with a simple note, scribbled on the piece of cardstock next to the red lip print she had left.

May the stars align in our favor once again. - Y/N

He looked up frantically, planning to ask her to write her number down as well, but he was met with nothing.

She had disappeared into the night, leaving as quickly as she appeared earlier that day.

#HarryOnHoliday #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot

[someone-always-cares]

bonus 2, post chapter 4

first - previous - next

[image  description: an sac webcomic page. 5 pages styled in a manner similar to a medical brochure titled “navigating your new abilities, what does this mean for me?”. the brochure is about superpowers, what the are, side effects and health risks, and job oppurtunities. the brochure has white and light blue for the main colours, with a dark purple accent. page 1: mostly showing a girl transforming, with the title listed above, with smaller text reading “created and supported by the paragon institute for superheroism.” the girl is a younger white woman who has a light purple colour scheme, long straight hair and bangs, a crop top, and elbow pads. shes shown from the waist up, half her body and an arm cut out of the photo. her transformation takes the form of dripping black-purple goop spreading, with a starry texture. a similar texture takes up the image background.

page 2: title: what are superpowers?. “Superpower is a term used for superpowered abilities that go beyond the natural abilities and conventional laws of reality. There are little limits to the potential types of abilities that a super powered person may possess.

It is currently unknown what causes superpowered abilities. Despite many theories, the only known way to guarantee superpowers is to inherit them from a parent.

London has the highest percentage of superpowered people in the entire world, in addition to having 42% of all supers in the united kingdom”

next to this text is a grinning woman in pink winking while posing with one hand on her hip, and the other in a fist held up. the woman has long wavy pale pink hair, light brown skin, many freckles, and hot pink eyes. her outfit is a pink dress and gloves, pale pink tattered cape, and a hot pink long sleeved undershirt.

“how do i use and control my abilities? Superpowered people will typically have an innate sense for how to transform and use their abilities,but like any skill it will take time and effort to fully control their abilities.

In some rare cases, a superpowered person may lack control over their powers to the extent where it can cause harm to those around them.

This is most common in those who have inherited their abilities. In these cases the P.I.S offers programs to assist these people in learning control with 24/7 care and supervision. If you or someone you know requires these programs, please call our number or otherwise contact us via our website.

Due to the range of superpowered abilities, there is no one-size-fits-all method of developing control, however, the P.I.S do offer training services, of which you can read more about atwww.pis.uk/pis-services/training

next to this is a teenage superhero, an androgynous boy with a grey colour scheme, smiling slightly, his arm turning into smoke. he has light grey hair and eyes, brown skin and a dark grey bodysuit. he has a grey poncho/cape conbo and gloves, both of which are lined with light grey fleece or fur. his outfit looks as if is was meant for cold weather.

page 3: what are some other symptoms of superpowered abilities? Superpowers are also accompanied by complete transformations, including bodily and outfit transformations. Body transformations will include a change of eye and hair colour, but can also include a wide variety of changes, commonly including changes to eyes, ears, and hands, animal-like features, changes in shape, colour, additional limbs and features, and more.

below that is 5 examples, inside circles with a white border: a close up of an eye, all blue including sclera, the pupil is pale and slit like a cat. next is a close up of a green haired braid. next if also from behind, a red haired person with red wings, the longest feathers of which are white. while the last three arent of any known character, the latter two are wraith, shown from behind, only showing hair and a cape, and part of an arm, and quartz, a close up of his elf-like ear.

Outfit transformations are even more varied in appearance, and will typically be in various shades of the persons 'main' colour. It is common for the outfit to contain additional accessories, tools, and weapons. Electronic devices created from these transformations do not need recharging and if using internet or data, will use the strongest available signal to do so. It is illegal to create, use, or otherwise have in the open, a weapon in public without a registered superhero licence.

The act of transformation will vary from person to person, but will usually involve a bright light, and is likely to reflect the user's powers of their effects. In the case of those inheriting their abilities, they will inherit body traits and transformations from any and all superpowered ancestors.

The effects of a transformation will likely change through a superpowered person's lifetime. A change will usually happen after a dramatic change in the person's personality, ideals, traumatic incident, or other life development, although a change is not guaranteed, and will rarely occur without these.

The first transformation will usually be the simplest aesthetically both in outfit and body, with simple details, but will usually get more complicated, and it's likely to gain more body transformations as more changes happen. A superpowered person may experience 1-2 changes every 10 years.

Objects and outfits created via transformation will dissipate upon detransformation, regardless of if it is removed from the person. The same goes for additional limbs and features that do not exist on the original body, although these injuries are permanent, unlike clothes and objects which will reform upon transformation.

page 4: other known possibilities of transformations:

- Partial changes to a transformation may occur in the event of permanent injury, such as gaining a prosthetic after losing a limb, but nothing else in the outfit changes.

-It is possible for a transformation's change to be affected by other superpowered persons. This is commonly shown by similarities in outfit transformations, as elements of the superpowered persons apperance change to resemble each other.

-Changes in colour are extremely rare and usually only occur in small aspects

other changes and risks: Some changes are permanent and may not disappear when a superpowered person detransforms.

-Reproductive changes: Any biological offspring will have the exact same powers as the parent. However, pregnancy will be risky, and have a high rate of failure, especially if the mother does not have any superpowered abilities.

-Dreams: While there is no known reason for this occurrence, supers will rarely be able to remember their dreams, except those with dream related abilities or legacy supers. However, despite this the people in question will usually be experiencing nightmares, and superpowered people are at high risk for night terrors and sleep terror disorder.

-A superpowered person's body will adapt to their powers and it is extremely unlikely for one to be harmed by their own power, but this may result in permanent changes that may cause inconvenience in daily life. If this is something you or a loved one experience, please inform your GP

-Overuse of powers: While powers appear to be adapted to not cause harm to the user, overuse of powers can result in a large amount of pain and possible long term damage

below that is an image of two people, on looking like a doctor, a pale man with dull brown hair and dull green eyes, dressed as a doctor and smiling with a clipboard, looking at a person shown from  behind, with long mint hair.

page 5: what does this mean for me?

Discovering and controlling your abilities is often the first step one may take inbecoming a superhero. Here at the P.I.S we offer many pathways to doing so,including all required training, courses, and experiences.

We also acknowledge that some super powered people do not seek to become asuperhero, but the P.I.S still has a place for them! We offer many career pathsand courses for almost any job and  our career advisors can match up the perfectpower-job combinations to give you a leg up if you are interested in using yourabilities in your career.  For more information, visit jobs.pis.uk

Use of powers in a job, or to otherwise earn money using superpowered abilities,without a license is a serious offence that can result in fines starting from £5000,and a potential ban from working in that field.

below is the superhero arrow, grinning at a woman in a plain looking suit. he has one hand on his hip and the other is shaking hands with the woman. the women has red hair and eyes, and pointy red nails.

Due to the nature of superpowered abilities, it is important to gettailored advice and support for affected individuals.For more information call us at our support helpline at 020 7946 0xxx. Both our lines are open from 8:30am-10pm mon-fri and 9:30am-9pm sat.You can also visit our website for more resources at pis.uk/resources. end id]

sorry for last weeks lack of update, irl stuff is happening too much and too fast

anyway heres something ive wanted to do for a while, a pamphlet thats kinda medical style? it seemed like it would be fun and i wanted an excuse to try something new and im always down to infodump (affectionate) about my ocs

however im half asleep, ive already delayed an update for a week, and im a little stressed so i didnt get a proper proofread so sorry if theres any typo or if i left a placeholder in ill get it later if i see any late

edit: did i really forget to fucking finish the fake phone number at the end? anyway sometimes fake phone numbers are reserved for tv and stuff if a phone number is needed, thats the one used for london fake numbers, i just forgot to finish it until i went back to write the id there

#someone always cares #sac #webcomic #lore #worldbuilding #im nervous to post bc i was like. is this to self indulgent? will people like it? #and then i was like bro. #its my fucking webcomic OF COURSE its self indulgent that half the fucking point #some of this is stuff ive rambled lots to friends but realised oh it just hasnt come up in comic so here it is i guess #im hoping this is readable bc i can read it fine on my phone

[witchyfroggins]

A/N: haha, i had this idea in mind for awhile so seeing that people havent taken the holden opportunity for a oneshot or reader insert i guess my time has come!

Also the reader is said to be female but you can change it otherwise i dont mind.

Summary: in the unlikely events of an adventurer coming across the gate to the shivering isles in hopes of stopping the infinite loop of the greymarch a ball is to be hosted as a last hurrah.

Warnings: Emotions (possibly)

_______________________________

Everyone in the Isles gathered in Sheoth at this evening dresses in bright or dim clothes dependinf where they rein from. Mania or dementia. You were from (Mania/Dementia) you wore a (Favorite Dress) along with your hair pinned up by a white flower from Mania's garden that you managed to sneak or just take.

The normally deserted streets were littered with people in creative masks and beautiful gowns. You had a white owl mask with real soft feathers. It only covered your eyes so you had a deep (Favorite color) Lipstick on your lips.

You were new to the isles so the reason for this beautiful Mascerade was a mystery to you but you'll enjoy it nonetheless.

Everyone was enjoying their time. Chatting with eachother, drinking and eating as they waited for the arrival of their very special guest. You knew who it was of course, the famed daedric prince of madness, sheogorath.

When you had arrived for the first time. You were confused and scared, the white bearded man welcomed you with a surprisingly warm smile on his face. Why did you not kill you? You never found out.

After that, in time you managed to serve under him from (Mania/Dementia). You always admired him. Your fear faded as soon as you looked into those golden cat like eyes. You, for a lack of a better word, interested in this prince. He could also say the same for you.

Presenting yourself so rawly to him. It was if he could see a fraction of himself in your eyes. You were nothing like the other mortals who had been sent to him after a a gruesome death. He wanted to get to know you better. So you stayed.

Back at the ball you navigated your way to the small bar that had been set up to get a drink. You were a nervous wreck, you weren't one to always wear fancy clothes. Let alone be in a fancy ball. This might as well be your first time.

As you were sipping on a glass of red wine the noise of the ball faded as everyone gazed upon the stairs as a figure appeared wearing a rather unfitting suit for the prince of madness. It was purple and styles like your normal Tuxedo but it was decorated with a golden floral pattern on one side while the other was a black thorn pattern. He dawned a golden feline eye mask above his nose.

Of course he was accompanied with his Chamberlain Haskill in his normal attire despite the event.

Everyone soon stopped their conversation as the mad prince raised both of his arms in the air with a wide cat grin on his bearded face.

"Let the Mascerade begin!" He Declared earning a cheer of approval as the floating orchestra began to play a tune on their own.

Everyone went back to their business as the mad prince stood from the top of the stairs gazing at what could be the last heart filled moment in a long time. The greymarch was upon him and he didnt have the courage to tell (y/n). But he couldn't find the right time.

As if by coincidence his eyes landed on her form. Awkwardly shuffling to the back of the room in her beautiful (Favorite color) gown and white owl mask. As if a predator was drawn to its prey he couldn't take his eyes off her.

Normally he would refrain himself from dancing with the locals. It wasnt good for reputation. But he may not get another chance. He cringed at the thought of becoming Jyggalag and hurting her.

As if battling with his own mind he had finally come to a conclusion. You only live once, as mortals say even though he was a daedric god. She could only live once.

Before he could even register what he was doing he found himself moving down the stone stairs. Grabbing the attention of his loyal followers as they fearfully cleared the floor for him as he strided confidently towards you.

It was only when he was a few feet away from you, you realised him. Almost choking on your wine as he stood in front of you in an almost intimidating way. But when you looked up to him as he was taller then you. You could see his eyes. The pupils weren't their usual shape. They were wider, his beautiful yellow irises shy of disappearing.

Quickly you placed your glass down and bowled.

"L-Lord sheogorath, how can i help you?" You asked forcing the words our of your mouth joping to play it cool. However your voice betrayed you at that moment.

You awaited his response. The simplest things could tick him off bu tonight there will always be an exception. He looked down at you, he just laughed. Not his usual maniacal laugh. It was soft almost inaudible to the people around him. But he made certain you heard it.

He hooked a finger under your chin grabbing your attention as he guided your head to look at him. You could feel the heat rise on your cheeks as you gazed up at him. A kind smile on his face.

After a moment he steppes back giving enough space between you two for him to bow to you! A mortal. The crowd began to stir, whispering among themselves as he reaxhed out with his hand.

"A dance? Mi'lady?" He asked in his usual scottish accent that sent a shver down your spine.

You by all means would jump at the chance of dancing with him. But with the people staring and whispering behind their masks she felt as if it was wrong.

"Are you certain my lord?" You asked in an accent of your own. Oh how he loved to hear you speak. It made him feel as if he were flying. Well he can fly but it was different.

He didnt speak a word sending a glare to those around them. And with one swift movement he took you gently by the hand pulling you towards his chest. One arm sliding around your waist with ease.

"Don't mind them my dear. Tonight it's just about you and me" he whispered in your ear. He waited to long for this moment for so long and it was finally here.

He couldn't help but bask in your presence. Your smell, the feeling of you in his arms. It was beautiful. He guided you to the dance floor. Your dress swaying with his movements.

The band began to play once again. The lamps that hung on strings between the buildings changed into a beautiful red hue as it focused only on them.

You averted your eyes from him. To embarrassed to look his way. He wasn't impressed by this and with a small 'tsk' freeing one hand only to hook it under your chin once more as if it never left.

"I dont much like people averting my gaze (y/n). If it wasn't for your exquisite beauty i would have had you displayed as a carpet in my throne room" he stated his voice staying the same mono tone. It almost scared you if not for his hidden compliment.

He enjoyed dancing with you. Having you entwined with his own dark soul as he spun you around. However his glee wouldn't last long. There was still the dire situation to come and he has yet to tell you. Maybe he doesn't.

Sheogorath had a beautiful idea. A way to show his affection for you and get you out of danger.

With one simple movement he spun you around once again before dipping you low enough for your hair to become undone and hit the stone floor. He kept you their for some time. Just admiring how you looked. The red of your cheeks brought out your beautiful (eye color) eyes.

You couldn't hear anything above your own racing heartbeat as the close proximity of your face and his. His breath mingling with yours. Drawing you ever so closer to him.

With out a warning his lips connected with your own. It was just as you imagined it, soft, warm and slightly chasped but it was perfect.

Both of your lips moved in perfect sinc with eachother. As if you were made for him. A perfect mortal molded into his liking without his torment. You were perfect. He couldn't let you call to his lesser half.

He pulled you back onto your feet. Never removing his lips from yours. Spinning you around fast enough that you couldn't see straight. Then the last words you would probably ever hear from him in some time.

"I'm sorry"

His words confused you but as soon as you regained your balance and the world stopprd spinning you realised you were not in the isles anymore. You were in nirn.

____________________________

All done!

Wow! That took longer then i though and it is longer then i thought.

Anyway part 2??

#sheogorath #Sheogorath x reader #Oneshot #shivering isles #part 1????? #sheogorath oneshot #before the greymarch #possible upsetty feels

[furashuban]

In Plain Sight

Another Hilda fic that I wrote on a whim after switching between reading the comics and tie-in novels all weekend.

Pairing: Frilda, Gen

Words: 1900+

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722543

Summary: Frida attempts to use a newly learned spell to find Hilda after she suddenly disappears for the second time in a row.

Barely a day had gone by after Hilda and her mom were found escaping the Stone Forest. Yet seemingly overnight, Hilda had vanished from her home once again. Twig was still in the apartment, and Johanna was safe and sound along with Tontu and Alfur. But to everyone’s dismay, it was only the blue-haired adventurer who disappeared and left in her place was a humanized troll child to give a hint as to where she could have gone.

Feeling endlessly inquisitive, Frida asked David to come over to her place as they devised a plan to locate their friend, hoping to find out whether or not she was in mortal danger. The two were in Frida’s bedroom, sitting still on the floor with miscellaneous items surrounding them.

“So, you plan on using magic to find Hilda this time?” David asked.

“That’s correct.” Frida responded, skimming through long paragraphs of a manual she borrowed from Kaisa and Tildy. “We’ll be in even more trouble if we venture out of the wall during nightfall, especially if we get caught by the Safety Patrol. So we’re taking the secure route to look for Hilda first.”

“But why couldn’t we have done this before?!”

“Because last time, I was having trouble practicing another spell,” Frida looked up from her book, “and I hadn’t learned anything else that was useful in finding her. Not until tonight at least.”

As the night breezed in, a whole week had officially gone by since Hilda vanished. During the time spent over her disappearance, Frida continued with her private witch-training while her best friend remained all she could think about. Even for Hilda, there was no way that she could possibly be in the mood to go on a reckless undertaking, not after her and Johanna’s experience running away from trolls, and let alone one where she felt like heading out by herself. It was hard not to overthink about her safety, hence her anxieties became evident through the constant fumbling of a transformation spell she was being taught. Her frown and heart-struck eyes lingered on her complexion, followed by continual groaning whenever she failed to focus.

Tildy was quick to realize the troubles of her apprentice. She discerned Frida’s melancholy as one when a witch loses their closeness to a familiar. So without a moment too soon, the arch-sorceress decided to teach her a new incantation that further linked herself with Frida’s familiar, and one where neither an excess of time, patience and power was needed.

Going back to the present, a small mat was placed in-between Frida and David. Frida put aside her book and delved her hand inside a pouch of pollen, pinching some of the substance little-by-little and sprinkled them into a perfect circle on the mat. Next, she gathered four sodalite rocks and angled them around the pollen ring. The preparation to recite this new enchantment seemed like any other setup that Frida had previously done for more intricate spells, only that the witch-in-training appeared to be a lot swift in laying everything out.

“You seem pretty confident that this spell will work.” David said, remembering the time Frida turned Erik Ahlberg into a bug unintentionally.

“It has to.” Frida asserted. “Unlike my previous spells, this one involves trying it on someone I’ve been close with before I even trained to become a witch, and that should give me enough power to make this spell work. That’s what Tildy said to me anyway, and I believe it.”

When Frida stopped glancing through her items, David instinctively reached for a backpack and dug through its contents.

“Did you find the last thing that we need?” Frida inquired, offering her hand and waited to receive something.

David nodded. “It’s one of the things I see Hilda enjoy in our camping trips, so I thought it would qualify.” he brought out a personal possession from Hilda’s bedroom when he visited the apartment earlier in the day. Well, more like broke in with the help of his nisse.

It was a book written by Hilda’ favorite author, FORESTS AND THEIR UNFRIENDLY OCCUPANTS by Emil Gammelplassen, and David relinquished it to Frida so she could situate the novel in the center of the pollen circle.  

“Now, with the item associated with my familiar, the spell I learned will have my eyes become theirs.”

“What does that mean exactly?” David asked bewildered.

“It means I will be able to see what Hilda is seeing, and then I can get an idea as to where she is.” Frida replied. “It won’t last that long, though, so hopefully she isn’t anywhere too in-the-dark.”

She took a deep breath and picked up her wand— the same shaft of a boat’s steering wheel that Hilda gave her all those months ago. Frida enveloped it with both hands and centered it around her chest with the tip pointing upwards. As she nodded and closed her eyes, her expression was more serious than ever. The moment of truth came as she whispered her new spell.

 O bekant arbyuda vini...

     O bekant arbyuda vini…  

     O bekant arbyuda vini...

 Each recital of the spell grew louder until the pollen gleamed like a lantern. The four sodalite rocks also glinted with traversing blue mist within their surfaces, and together with the pollen they emitted a deep whirring sound. David observed the incantation with his posture raised and eyes opening up in astonishment. He half expected the room to suddenly blow up by an extreme gust of wind, even sensing falsely that a draft was brewing from beneath the ground. But as Frida recited the spell with more vigor for a final time, both the pollen and stones regressed to their natural image from before.

The room became uncomfortably silent. Frida was stuck to her position, and David hung around trying to resist his urge in asking what will happen next.

Suddenly, the inside of Frida’s head felt like it was spinning. Her jaw dropped and her eyes opened, revealing her pupils to be nearly heart-shaped and glowing a rose gold tinge, startling the boy in front of her. Frida did not see herself back in her room, but rather a hazy vision of being dashed down a mountain. To her surprise, even the sound of a girl muttering in fear could be heard. Frida could not doubt it; she was now sharing Hilda’s vision.

“She’s outside.” Frida spoke. “Hilda, can you hear me?”

Her best friend continued to run, not even stopping to call for Frida’s name to acknowledge her. It was worth a try though.

Hilda ran deeper and deeper into the wilderness, gasping quickly and repeatedly until she reached the base of the mountain. Secluded in its shadow, she looked back and caught a glimpse of a bellowing creature that hollered her name in the distance, then she hid herself by prowling through the bushes nearby. She turned again to see an opening that gapped between the ground and the mountain itself; a large, triangular cave that seemed to have been formed ages ago. Whether it led back into the Stone Forest or to some place new, it was her next route to survival and therefore sprinted towards the opening.

Trifling multi-legged vermin and cobwebs were scattered around the ridges of the cave, chilliness was all but absent inside. Her back was against the jagged wall as she peered from behind the corners. No longer did it seem as though she was being pursued, and she took another moment to catch her breath as many times as she could.

“I want to go home.” she cried.

Frida’s heart sank. She had never seen nor heard her friend so panicked and distraught before, and all she could do was watch instead of hurrying to comfort her. But something was even more off about Hilda. Perhaps it was the lack of light in the evening setting, but Frida swore that her arms and legs were as pale as a corpse.

On the spur of the moment, Hilda turned to see what lies beyond the cave. She got up and ambled towards a set of rocks which appeared to be reflective. The closer she got, the clearer her physique was shown on the rocks.

Her long blue hair had tinged to a much grayer shade, and her nose protracted like the pole of a birdhouse. But most distressing of all, her body was entirely made of stone; not a single trace of her humanity was to be seen. As Hilda watched a teardrop cascade on her cheek, Frida mimicked the distrait frown of her friend as they both gazed on the mirror.

“Why can’t I be changed back?!” Hilda exclaimed to her reflection angrily. “This is not at all how I wanted to move back to the wilderness! I do not want to be a troll!”

Her hand clenched into a fist and drew it backwards. Then, she forced it swiftly onto the rock until it had shattered, causing cracks and multiple reflections of a resentful Hilda to form. Immediately after the punch, Frida’s shared vision with Hilda grew progressively far-sighted until everything was merely a blurred spec. Her pupils no longer glowed and were shaped back to normal. And as the spell wore off, she shrieked timorously and knocked back on the floor.

David slithered around the mat and rushed to his friend. “Frida, what happened?” he asked frantically, picking her back up.

“I know where she is, kind of.” Frida stammered. “She’s out of the wall again, in a cave somewhere near the mountains for now but…” the longer she spoke, the closer she came to whimpering.

“It was so strange.” she continued. “It’s not possible but...I know I saw it. I even heard it. But why and how is she...did she get cursed or...UGH!”

She gripped her hair tight as she struggled to make sense of what she saw. “I don’t understand. How on earth did she become a troll?!” she breaks into tears from repressing her speech, not wanting the word “troll” to be overheard outside the room.

“Hilda became a what?!” David exclaimed.

More questions raised in Frida and David’s mind. Frida wished that she could have halted whoever, or whatever turned Hilda into a stone variant of herself. She wanted to be with her in the cave to protect her, and she hoped the spell could have done more than just see what a familiar saw. None of this was how she expected to find her. Everything felt better before she tried helping herself with the spell.

She sighed arduously. “Our best friend is a troll, David.” she snivelled, embracing the brunette tightly. In turn, David wrapped his arm around Frida and patted her back. He felt like crying too, feeling crushed in perhaps more ways than one, but he homed in on his friend’s dejection first and foremost as silence filled the air for a good long minute.

Frida then lets go of her grasp and rubbed her palms on her face. There was not enough time to feel frightened about having her expectations subverted. Her plan had been to know where and if Hilda was in danger, and all the boxes were checked.

“We need to tell Hilda’s mum where she is.” Frida said. “In case she runs off with Tontu and Twig to look for her again tomorrow, we have to tell her what I saw before she does.”

“Then let’s move.”

#hilda #netflix hilda #hildafolk #frida hilda #frilda #david hilda #fanfiction #my works #hilda the series

[queenxxxsupreme]

Lost But Not Forgotten

A/N: Italics are telepathic conversations. Also there’s a part in here that is sort of a nod to Trista Mateer’s quote “I still remember you as a little girl who overwaters plants because she doesn’t know when to stop giving.”  Thank you so much to my lovely babe @writingawaymylife you’re the best ever <3

Warnings: none, just fluff with some angst

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Eskel finds his long lost sister.

“You know, it’s very hard to concentrate when you’re humming so loudly.” Your apprentice, Vayenn, glanced up at you through her lashes. She was trying to read a book about healing herbs but you were humming and distracting her.

“Concentrate harder.” You grinned just a little, wiping down an empty shelf. You had just gotten in a shipment of dried herbs and you wanted to fill the shelf. 

“That’s hard to do when all I hear is you.”

“Perhaps you’d concentrate more if you were in another room.”

“I won’t learn anything being in another room, Y/N. I want to get better at this but it’s just so damn difficult!” She groaned, placing the book rather roughly down on to a table. She then folded her arms up and rested her head on the table. 

“You can’t learn herbalism overnight, Vayenn. You need to have patience.”

The bell above the door to your shop rung softly, silencing your conversation with Vayenn. 

You turned and put on a welcoming smile. There were three men, two of them witchers from the magic auras that came off of them and the final one human. 

“Hello, gentlemen! Welcome to the Golden Sparrow. Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“No, thank you.” The human flashed you a smile. “I believe they know what it is we are looking for.”

“Alright, just let me know if there is anything I can help you with.” Your eyes flickered up to the witcher standing closest to the door. His shoulders were broad, dark hair mostly pulled back in a low ponytail. Twin blades were strapped to his back. Your eyes very briefly caught sight of deep scars that cut through his lips and possibly his eye too. You didn’t let your gaze linger for long so you couldn’t tell where they began.

You turned to Vayenn, who had closed her book and appeared to be studying the two witchers.

“Vayenn.” You snapped your fingers, catching her attention. “It’s rude to stare.” 

“I wasn’t.” She mumbled.

“Keep reading that book. I want it finished by tomorrow’s market, or else you won’t be going with me.”

She sighed again and opened the book.

You looked back to the three customers. They had migrated to the shelf containing jars of various monster-related body parts. 

You went back to the empty shelf you had previously been working on. Now that it was clean, you could start putting jars of dried herbs on it. 

“We don’t need that, Jaskier. We need a katakan liver.” One of the witchers spoke.

“I could’ve sworn the old man said a kikimora liver.”

“I’m positive I heard right. It was katakan.”

“What makes you think you heard right, Geralt?”

“Because I’m a witcher, Jaskier.” 

“It was a katakan liver, Jaskier.” The second witcher said. The human gasped, rather dramatically putting his hand over his heart. 

“And to think that you were on my side all this time, Eskel.”

The jar in your hand slipped and fell to the floor, shattering into a billion pieces. The dried herbs inside broke and cracked. 

You looked over to the customers at the same time that they looked to you. Your eyes fell on the one the human called Eskel. 

Your lips parted and all the breath in your lungs escaped. 

No, no, no. There was no way this was your brother. There was absolutely no way. He had died decades ago, you were sure of it. 

“Y/N?” Vayenn said your name, standing from the table she was at. “Y/N! Are you okay?”

When she shouted your name, you flinched, coming back to reality. You turned your head to look at her, opening your mouth to say something but your voice didn’t work. You looked back at the witchers and the human, your eyes focusing on the dark haired witcher.

“Y/N?” The witcher repeated quietly, furrowed his brows together. 

“Who, um, who is this, Eskel?” The human asked. “A friend?”

Eskel didn’t answer him immediately. He wasn’t sure if it was you, if you were his sister.

“Y/N of Vedette.” He responded quietly.

Your vision blurred with tears as you gazed at him. Your stomach twisted up with the grief you still carried from your childhood. 

“Are-Are you him?” Your voice was broken, weak. Your heart raced like a hummingbird’s wings in your chest, begging to be freed from its cage. “Are you….?”

You couldn’t say his name out loud. You hadn’t said his name in ages. It caused too much pain.

He took a few steps towards you as if he wanted to approach you. But at the last minute, he changed his mind and stopped. His fingers curled into fists by his sides.

“I am Eskel of…. of Vedette.” Eskel had never claimed his home as his own, not since he was taken away by an old witcher. But seeing you standing just across the room from him, breathing and staring at him like he was a lost treasure, it felt right. 

You were frozen in place, unable to move, fearing this was some sort of dream. Perhaps you accidentally ingested an herb or something. 

Eskel looked back to the white haired witcher, Geralt of Rivia. The two shared some sort of silent and brief conversation. 

“Come on, Jaskier.” He moved past Eskel and towards the door to your shop. 

As the two left, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Eskel. It still felt unreal. 

You didn’t notice Vayenn disappear to a back room, taking her book with her.

“How-How are you still alive?” He asked you. He wanted nothing more than to close the space between you two and embrace you. But he didn’t want to scare you away. He didn’t want you close enough to see everything that was wrong with him, everything about him that had changed since you last saw him.

“I’m-I’m a-I’m a mage.” You stumbled over your words, nearly silent with your answer. His voice was so deep and raspy, a stark contrast to the eight year old boy you remembered. “Is this real?” Your voice trembled, tears slipping from your eyes to make damp trails down your cheeks. 

“Yes.”

That was all you need to confirm that this was reality, that you weren’t hallucinating or dreaming. 

You ran across the room, practically throwing yourself at Eskel, at your brother. He caught you in his strong arms, holding you around the waist while you clutched to his shoulders.

The tears you’d been trying so desperately to hold back came free, flooding down your cheeks as you cried into his shoulder. 

“You’ve gotten so big.” He chuckled, though you could hear the strain in his voice. He was trying not to cry. 

You pulled away from him, wanting a better look at his face, at how the years had changed him.

Scars that pulled on the right side of his face. Yellow eyes gazed down at you, glossy and softened as he looked at you. 

Your brows drew together softly and your hand came up to cup the right side of his face. He flinched from the contact, eyes closing firmly. 

“My gods, what have they done to you?” You breathed out, ghosting your fingers across the rippled scars on his cheek. “And your beautiful green eyes….”

He let his head fall forward a little, hanging in shame. But you wouldn't allow it. You shook your head softly, tilting his head up and brushing a few pieces of hair out of his yellow eyes. 

“I’m not judging you, dear brother. I just…. I can’t believe you are alive. Mother said you were lost in the woods.”

“I did get lost, but a witcher came along…. He took me.” Eskel opened his eyes but looked down. He couldn’t meet your gaze. 

“Come, let’s sit.” You took his hand and guided him over to the little round table Vayenn had been sitting at. 

He sat down in one chair and you pulled yours closer to him. You kept your hand in his, holding his scarred and calloused fingers tightly in your own. 

You studied him for a few moments, the way his eyes cautiously flickered around the room. He wasn’t completely relaxed in his seat, unwilling to get too comfortable. He was on guard. 

“Nothing here will hurt you, Eskel.” You told him with a soft shake of your head. His eyes flickered back to you. “You look…. uneasy.”

“I…. I just….” He didn’t want to tell you about his guild, about how getting too comfortable could get him killed. He didn’t want to tell you about all the nightmares he’d faced in real life, all the horrors he witnessed. After seeing what he had, there was no way to be other than uneasy. 

“A witcher.” You said the title, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Who would have guessed my sweet little brother would turn into a protector?”

“A monster.” He corrected you, eyes falling to his hand embraced in your own.

“A what?” You furrowed your brows together.

“A monster. Not…. Not a protector.”

“My brother, you are no monster.” You shook your head. “If you are even half the sweet boy I remember you to be, you are no monster.”

“I’ve-I’ve killed, Y/N.” He admitted, heart racing in his chest so violently that he was afraid it may burst. He was ready to confess to every sin he’d ever committed, to tell you of everything horrid he’d ever done. He wasn’t the hero you thought him to be, and he wouldn’t lie to you like that. 

“We all have.” You smiled sadly, your voice a soft whisper. “We kill the people we used to be in order to survive this cruel world.”

He took in your words, almost smiling. But then he knitted his brows together and shook his head, pulling his hand from yours. 

“We all do things we aren’t proud of.”

“But what I’ve done…. Y/N, I’m no protector.”

He was still just as stubborn as you remembered. You could see the pain in his eyes, his unfamiliar yellow eyes. Even though the color and the shape of the pupil was far from what you remembered, you could still see the little boy who was so eager to water flowers in the garden even though he always overwatered them. He never knew when to stop giving. 

Had the world succeeded in breaking him? In breaking the sweet boy you called your brother?

You released his hand, leaning back in your chair and crossing your knees. 

“I spent years and years trying to find you.” You told him, glancing down to a ring on your right hand. It was your mother’s wedding band. She had given it to you just before she passed. “I searched the entire Continent. Mother tried not to give up hope, but she was never the same after you went missing. I promised her I’d never stop until I found you. I found a mage from Aretuza. She told me that she could help me find you. After I finished learning what I needed to become a mage, she told me that you were dead and finding you would be a waste of my talent.”

You paused for a moment to take a breath. 

“So I left the Lodge. I bounced around for a while before settling down here.”

“It’s a nice village.”

You nodded.

“Tell me, dear brother. What brought you here?” You tilted your head to the side a little, a knowing smile coming to your lips.

“A…. A contract. There’s been people going missing in the woods outside of town.”

“And you wished to stop whatever beast it is?” You raised your brows. 

Eskel crinkled his brow at you, confused as to why you were asking him such things. 

“You might believe that those witchers stole your kindness and your good heart, but you protect people from monsters.”

He said nothing, eyes falling to his hands as he took in your words and tried to understand your reasoning.

The bell to your shop rung quietly. You lifted your head, looking to the door. It was an elderly woman, a regular of yours. She often came by for remedies for her arthritis. 

You looked back to your brother, opening your mouth to excuse yourself.

“It’s okay.” He spoke before you could, smiling softly. “Go.”

You rose to your feet. His yellow eyes followed you as you went to the customer. You took a few steps away from him before turning back to make sure he was there. Your stomach began to twist up at the thought him being gone when you looked back. 

But he was there, still sitting in the chair and still watching you. You nervously messed with your hands at your waist, picking at your nails. 

“Don’t you dare think about going anywhere, okay?”

He nodded, afraid that if he spoke, his voice would crack and give away all the emotions he was desperately fighting. 

A little smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You took a few steps back, eyes lingering on your brother, then finally turned to go take care of your customer.

Eskel quietly cleared his throat and took a deep breath. 

“Never again.” He quietly promised, nodding softly.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @MishaFaye  @whitewolfandthefox @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @wolfyland07  @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @romancebibliophilia @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural  @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @badassspaceprincess @theawkwardpedestrian @naominami @scarlettwitcher @runawayolives @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster

#eskel x sister!reader #eskel angst #eskel fluff #eskel fic #eskel witcher #eskel #the witcher

[peachyteabuck]

under cover of darkness

summary: a 24-hour convenience store, the night shift, and the man who gets you through day. 

a commission for @lovelycarose​

pairing: eliot spencer x reader

words: 5510

trigger warnings: mentions of a break-in with canon-level violence, fluff, mentions of an unspecified chronic pain disorder

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

There are some good things about the night shift. It’s easier to balance classes and your precarious mental health, plus the pay wasn’t terrible – a few extra bucks per hour were thrown your way after eleven and before five.

So you kept with it, one earbud in so you could listen to music while the hours ticked by at a pace so slow it felt like some supervillain had not only completely frozen time – but was also determined to thaw is at room temperature.

That was another thing about the night shift – the customers. It was mostly regulars, or tourists who forgot something at home but didn’t want to spend airport prices for a travel sized container of deodorant. None of them really stick out, none interesting enough to stick in your brain for long as you mindlessly pack their various items into white plastic bags.

That is, until he starts coming in. Tall and impossible big – it’s hard not to marvel at him as if he was a breathtaking skyscraper, like you had never seen something so magnificent. His flowing dark brown hair, his tight jeans…it’s all nearly too much for eleven-at-night-you. (Also for “I haven’t had sex in so long and I think I’ve eroded the ridges on my vibrator from using it so often and holy shit I would do anything to have that man under/above me” you, a you only made stronger and more desperate by how late it was and tired you were.)

He walks around with the confidence not often seen in newcomers, your eye used to college students too drunk to stand up perfectly straight. You’re used to people stumbling around with eyes-half closed, rubbing their temples as the bright white lights feel like cheese graters shaped like ice picks against their already hurting brains. You’re used to watching them stumble around, using some Neolithic instinct to find the cool fridges where they’ll rest their faces against the glass for an oddly long amount of time before opening it up to grab as many Gatorades as they could hold before attempting to grab one or two (or five) frozen pizzas, never able to access the higher order thinking necessary to understand that maybe grabbing one of the baskets by the entrance is important.

Or, on the other end of the spectrum you’ve come to know as normal: soccer moms searching for alcohol for their husband’s post-game barbecue. Moms with large dark circles under their eyes who probably read (and watched) the Fifty Shades movie unironically but still feels weird when their husbands suggest having sex in any position besides missionary with the lights off. Moms who went to college just to meet some mediocre-looking frat boy who votes Republican just because his father did and thinks thirty seconds of oral is enough foreplay.

They don’t spend as much time in the store as the drunk/high students, but it’s still just as entertaining watching them grab the food and drink – but not before lingering in the makeup aisle, staring at bold shades of red and waterproof mascara and the bright hair dye whose advertisements have terribly applied photoshop.

No matter the type – no matter the customer – they were nothing like the man who stood on the other side of the store, staring intently at your soft drink selection. None of them were beefy men with crumpled grocery lists, permanently furrowed brows, and the most beautiful five o’clock shadow you’ve ever seen. None of them wear thick black work boots that make not a single sound as they walk around the store, none of them wear jeans that are so criminally tight around a perfect ass.

Not even a perfect ass – the perfect ass. It’s symmetrical, looking as if it was drawn by a pin-up artist in the 50’s whose specialty involves drawing super buff men in poses meant for petite, slender women with perfect curves. As he walks you half expect sparks to form on his backside as if you were in some kind of Anime, or for each individual cheek to bounce up and down on their own asynchronous accord. Normally you’d be terrified of being caught staring – of him turning around and catching your eye and mocking someone like you for having the nerve to be attracted to him.

But that doesn’t happen, because for once in your life the universe is kind to you. For once in your life you’re allowed to listen to music and stare dreamily at the hot guy who checks the ingredients on every snack dip option you have available before choosing three different ones with a small, disappointed huff.

You watch him with that same silent intensity as he fills the bright red carrier he grabbed without a sound when he first strutted in, the packaging of the items crinkling being the only way to track his location when he steps out of your eyeline. If your boss wasn’t the one on security cameras you’d be angling all of them to follow him around the store, your eyes hungry for another look at him at whatever angle and whichever quality you could get. You feel like a fangirl obsessed with some boyband, your heart rate determined by the amount of the mountain of a man you can see between displays of holiday-themed candy and cheap make up.

You’re not sure how long it is before he’s approaching your counter (time appears to have lost all meaning the second he stepped into the store), but whether it had been five minutes or five years, he still takes your breath away. As he steps closer you realize he’s fucking massive – something your grandmother (a wonderful woman, but one lacking when social situations called for, among other things, any kind of brain-to-mouth filter) would call a “shit brickhouse.” He doesn’t even need one of the baskets as he prowls the aisles – scanning every item like a lion watches the Sahara through tall grass. It’s hard to look away, to go back to the book you’ve been trying to read the same page from since long before the little automated bell above the door had announced the man’s arrival – but the only distraction before had been the tiny, exhausted voice in the back of your mind that was shaming at you for not sleeping before the night’s shift.

Now, though, the voice has quieted to allow your tired eyes to follow him, pupils tracing along every inch of him.

The man checks out without a word; shaking his head when you ask if he has a rewards card and paying in cash. When you give him $7.26 in change, your hands touch for a brief moment and you nearly stop breathing – lungs suddenly void of their capacity to hold air as sparks fly from his callous fingertips to the bottom of your spine. He pulls away, eventually, because he has to – depositing the totality of the meager amount of money you’d just handed him into the donation box plastered with facts about victims of domestic violence right next to your register.

The box is made of an opaque deep purple plastic, the coins making a loud clink sound as they crash into the near-empty container. The man stares at it for a moment, swallowing an apparent lump in his throat as his eyes go blank for a fraction of a second before he digs into his pockets and fishes out a thick wad of perfectly folded five dollar bills before stuffing them into the hastily cut slot at the top.

Neither of you say anything as he does so, you too stunned by his generosity and him too occupied with making sure he had no more money hidden in his pockets to try and muster some vague capacity for speech. Still, as he turns and leaves, you cough to clear your throat and call out a loud and slightly hoarse “thank you!” to which he just turns and gives you a small smile in return.

The moment between the pair of you is fleeting but still makes your heart beat rapidly in your chest, swelling until your lungs feel tight against your ribs as you struggle to breathe. Fuck, you think. You haven’t felt like this since middle school when Jamie told you that your Katniss braid was adorable and you followed him around for two weeks until he agreed to take you on a “date” during lunch. You don’t even know this man’s name and you’re fawning over him as if you have another girlhood crush.

God, you need to learn his name.

Luckily, you find out the next time that his name is Eliot, even though the name embroidered in red above the right pocket of his dirtied coveralls says “Evan” in a fancy looped script (whatever, you don’t question it. You regularly wore your roommate’s sweatshirt from her alma mater even though you didn’t attend the university – must be the same thing, right?). That time all he buys is hair ties and chapstick – lots of hair ties and chapstick, just another thing you don’t question – but stays to talk with you about the Robert Frost poem you were annotating.

“Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening?” he reads aloud, smiling a little as he does so. “Is that for class, or…”

“It’s for class, but I’m liking it a lot more than the other obligatory readings for my degree,” you tell him a small laugh. “Do you enjoy poetry?”

Eliot shrugs as he grabs the full bags. “Oh, ya know. Just the occasional piece. You have a good day now.”

You smile as he walks toward the exit, butterflies pounding in your stomach once more. “You too!”

God, you think as he disappears from eyeshot. You’ve got it bad, girl.

He comes in again, irregular in each way except for the fact he arrives. Sometimes he’s clean cut, standing straight as he takes his sweet time wandering the store – as if he has nowhere to be, no need to rush around.

On those days, he buys a lot of things. Duct tape, orange soda, hair ties, sour candy in all shapes and colors. He makes conversation, asking about the book you’re reading or what you’re listening to, asking about your classes when you wear a jacket embroidered with your university’s logo on the front. On those days, he waits a little – even when all his items are bagged and there’s no real reason for him to stay – picking up on anything that would give him another thread of conversation to pull at.

“Something new?” he asks when you dogear one of the first few pages of a poetry book your friend had lent you.

“Yup!” you perk up just at the sight of him, cheery now more than you had been the entirety of the day now that he’s arrived. “Told a friend of mine about the assignment I was working on the last time you were here, and she shoved this anthology into my hands.”

You like those days – you look forward to them each time you step through the large door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY” in large white letters that stand out against the incredibly depressing brown that’s been peeling since the day you interviewed here, spots covered sparsely by the maintenance guy who you’ve never seen. Those days are good, fun – they make you smile hours after he leaves and occupy your thoughts until you go to bed, sometimes even making it into the margins of your notebook when you’re zoning out in class.

Sometimes, though, he comes in nearly limping – at least one eye blackened and dark navy baseball cap pulled as far down his forehead as he can.

It scared you the first time, watching as he grunted with each step, every item he grabs from the shelves seeming like it pained him, his face scrunching into a wince each time he raises an arm above his ribs. You checked his items (bandages, ice packs, gauze, antifungal cream, a few first aid kits) with bated breath, terrified of making his mood worse.

It isn’t until you tell him the total, until you finally look up from your hands – that you finally look him in the eyes. They’re always warm like plate of freshly baked macaroni and cheese (and always make you feel just as gooey), but now appear to be clouded with a type of pain you can’t pin down. He doesn’t say much – or anything – as you bag his items, placing them gingerly into the paper bag as if it was an extension of him.

You try to keep a happy face throughout the entire ordeal, not wanting to push him in case what happened was particularly bad. Eliot gives you a similarly small, but earnest one in return – even if he barely hides the wince in his side as he does so.

But that was the first time things seemed a little off – your first time, specifically – and the others get easier as time passes.

At first, “easier” meant a return to days similar to the good ones – telling him things about your day as you ring up all his first-aid related items. He doesn’t respond with as much enthusiasm, doesn’t have the same witty banter – but gives you a small smile that you recognize nonetheless. But then, as the weeks bleed into months, you learn how to handle both the terrible days, the bad days, and the good days all the same.

It’s on one of the good days that he buys tampons, a piece of every kind of chocolate item you sell, and enough Acetaminophen to knock out a horse.

“Your girlfriend is very lucky,” you tell him, blushing as you bag the items. For a minute you think you’ve embarrassed him, crossed some line as a sickening silence grows between you two like mold on two-week old leftovers in a fridge that was turned off. It’s just as disgusting, too, which is why you’re so happy that he still gives you a small smile when you dare look up from where your scanner’s red line centers on the barcode of one of the tampon boxes.

“Nah, just,” Eliot’s plump lips look so kissable it makes your heart pick up. “A roommate, uh. She needs this. Her boyfriend is doing some game night thing and couldn’t pick it up. So I, uh. I got drafted.”

You give a little snort as you grab the receipt, smiling wide as you place it in the bag. “Well, your roommate is very lucky to have you.”

Eliot laughs as he grabs his stuff, cheeks heating up as he blushes. “Can I kidnap you for a little while so you can come remind her of that?”

In a rare moment of confidence, you lean forward and grin. “Is it kidnapping if I want it?”

The blush rages as he sputters a response, eyes downcast as he turns to leave. You get no witty response back, but the way he turns to wink at you as the automatic doors part is enough of a rebuttal for you to feel satisfied with your quip.

No matter what kind of mood Eliot is in, you look forward to his visits, watching and talking with him. Each evening you get ready for work you wondered if he would come in that night, if you would be able to tell him about the dumb thing this guy in one of your seminars said, or how you won an argument during bar crawl over the weekend using some of the random things he had taught you during the very conversations you now wish to have with him. It’s nice, the nicest thing you have in a long time – and somehow that doesn’t scare you, and somehow that makes you feel even better each time you see him.

But then “The Day” happens, and it changes everything.

The evening of “The Day” you woke up from your pre-work nap with this unexplainable feeling that something was going to go wrong. This feeling deep in the bottom of your stomach that you can’t quite place, one that makes the back of your knees sweat and where your ribs feel just a little tighter. Each and every sound – the cars that drive way too fast down your street, the creaking in your house, the dogs that bark obnoxiously – seem loudly, harsher than usual. When you sit up in bed when your alarm goes off it’s like you can feel the muscles in your back contract, feel the bones in your joints grind against each other. There’s some electricity in the air like when it’s right before a storm – only the sky is clear and your weather app doesn’t predict any rain until next week (and, even then, it’s only a drizzle).

At first you think it’s just a bad pain day; not bad enough to keep you home, or make you forget even the idea of doing anything besides groaning in pain in your bed and taking as many pain medications as your doctor says you’re able to. Still, it’s quite noticeable, and occupies your thoughts as you go through each part of your pre-work routine. Even as you shower, turn on your coffee pot, do the minimal make up required to make it look like you didn’t just roll out of bed or are some Victorian orphan plagued by tuberculosis and possibly a deep sadness embodied by the terrible weather that crashes outside their overcrowded London orphanage – you can’t seem to get rid of the proverbial dark cloud that settles itself between your brain and skull, clouding your thoughts and making your stomach hurt just a little.

It doesn’t get better when you get into work, either. There’s a tenseness in the air you can practically taste – electricity in the air that settles over your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straighter than the carefully constructed sales display of some B-list celebrity’s nail polish collection, the one you spent hours fussing over during one of your very rare day shifts. It somehow only gets worse when Eliot arrives, whistling some tune that normally would be wistful and happy, but given the context sounds like something straight from a horror movie trailer that invades your otherwise-sweet daydreams for weeks to come; one of those songs that everyone knows but no one knows the name of that sounds really creepy when played slowly over a clip of some old, beat-up doll being held by an adorable little blonde girl with black-out contacts in.

You don’t tell him to stop, but the tune does slow when he notices your tense state when he passes to get to the soft drink aisle. When he gives you a questioning look you just shrug, hoping he forgets (or finds it in himself not to ask) about it by the time he finds what he needs. Judging by the song, lack of list, and spring in his step – it’s a good day, one where he intends to meander around the store and grab whatever it is catches his attention. Today that appears to be anything with sugar, most notably soda in every color but orange.

At some point he finds his way closer to you – more specifically he finds his way to the chocolate aisle, which faces your register – and strikes up a conversation. It’s just small talk, and doesn’t do much to distract you from the twisting in your gut, but you appreciate his efforts nonetheless. The small talk just feels like a dead-end – a polite road to nowhere that feels pointless to engage in. Still, it’s Eliot, so you give half-hearted answers and ask half-hearted questions and hope he doesn’t press you too hard on your slightly-sour mood.

And, because it’s Eliot, he draws a few small laughs and a couple of tiny smiles and it’s…nice. It’s not the usual “Good Day,” but it’s not a bad one, either.

But then it happens. And it happens quick – all of it.

Three men, dressed head to toe in black, enter guns a blazing as if they own the place. They’re wearing masks over everywhere but their eyes, the thick, black material likely silencing their voices if they weren’t screaming at the top of their lungs.

They enter in an oddly-triangular formation – one you’d describe akin to the Charlie’s Angel’s post if you weren’t scared out of your fucking mind. One of them runs to the aisle where you keep cold medicine, the other ransacking the liquor aisle and shoving heavy glass bottles of your most expensive bottles of alcohol into the black duffel bag slung around his shoulder. The last one – the one you think is the leader – keeps his eye on you as he steps closer to where you are at the register.

It’s the scariest fucking thing to ever happen to you, and what occurs next happens too fast for you to describe.

You blink once and find that you’re staring down the barrel of a handgun that’s definitely loaded and definitely has the safety off. The end shakes just a little, as if the robber is nervous, and you wonder why he’s the one scared. Both of your hands are up in the air, elbow bent at a ninety-degree angle while sweat pools at your brow and your bottom lip trembles. It’s the most terrified you’ve ever been in your entire life, and if you had enough in your stomach you throw up, you totally would’ve.

But then – Eliot.

You’re screaming at him to stop, to get away and hide and what are you doing? They’ve got a gun! Get away! You could be hurt! Eliot!

But then you realize that, holy shit, he’s actually taking the guy down. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the face. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the gut. Holy shit, Eliot just disarmed that dude while punching him.

It’s only when the guy that targeted you is screaming in pain from a dislocated shoulder that the other two realize something’s up and come rushing towards the man that stands just in front of your register. You’d scream if you weren’t stunned – eyes not sure where to look as Eliot disarms them with the grace of a professional ballet dancer at the same fucking time. He’s fierce but controlled – not breaking any bones but definitely leaving some bruises as he knocks them to the ground and kicks their guns across the carpet.  

It’s then – when the inferior robbers are writhing in pain on the ground – that he grabs the leader by the collar of his black hoodie and pulls the teenager’s wincing face close to Eliot’s raging one.

“I will give you one warning,” he hisses, teeth bared like an angered wolf as he spits. “one warning to leave this place and never come back. If this,” his left hand raises to gesture to you in all your petrified glory. “Nice lady tells me that you have returned to so much as buy a single stick of gum, I will track you down and find you and make sure you pay for the damage you’ve done here today. You got that?”

The still-masked teenager immediately nods furiously, eyes wide with terror and legs already kicking at the ground to leave.

Eliot gives a small, faux smile, and shoves the kid back down onto the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him. “Good, now get the Hell out of here and don’t come back.”

Without hesitation, the would-be robbers scatter as fast as their damaged legs can carry them, clutching their bags to their chests as they rush to their crappy getaway van.

If you weren’t scared shitless you’d admit you’re a little turned on at the feat, especially as Eliot flips his hair from his face as he watches them speed away.

Your boss appears a few seconds later, apparently one more to watch from his safe room in the back than to interfere. Thank Heavens Eliot was here, you think. Facing those three kids on your own – even if they were, indeed, kids – makes your blood pressure spike once more.

“Should I call the cops?” he asks, looking at the wreckage around the store. The only silent alarm is located under the counter where the register is and, given your petrified state, you weren’t one to trip it.

Eliot just sighs and shakes his head, kicking a broken bottle of whiskey that for sure was going to stain the carpet. “No, they can’t do much – those kids probably don’t have a record and I don’t think you’ll get much out of ‘em if they do find the bastards. They’re young, broke, and I don’t know how much priority your case will be given.”

Your boss sighs, rubbing his face. It’s not as if they stole more than a few hundred dollars’ worth of merchandise, but being the victim of a robbery is still both tiring and rage-inducing – especially when someone like him has gone so long without incident.  “But, I, what am I supposed to do? I just-“

Eliot grabs his wallet from his back pocket, reaching into it to fish out a small, professional-looking business card that he hands to your boss. “Call the number there come sun rise and tell them Eliot referred you. They’ll help you out with whatever you need.”

The man who signs your paychecks furrows his brow and reads the block print allowed. “Leverage, Incorporated? They can help me replace what I lost?”

Eliot nods, placing a comforting hand on your boss’ shoulder. “Everything.”

Immediately the man nods and steps away to go out the back exit, leaving you and Eliot in the center of it all.

It’s then – just as you’re alone – where the sun’s just coming up and the large windows in the shop allow its warm light to bath the both of you in a beautiful soft orange. There are no other customers there, and with your boss preoccupied with calming himself down, it really does feel like it’s just you and Eliot – just the two of you with the whole world still asleep around you. It’s nice, perfect.

He’s the one to break the silence, voice gruff as he flashes you a small, shy grin. “So, uh…you want to go for coffee?”

Your heart rams in your chest even louder than when you were staring the possibility of a gunshot wound to the face, the poor organ exhausted as your brain screams at you to accept his generous offer. It takes what feels like an eternity to muster up the courage to do so, but before you can Eliot’s already speaking once more.

“Not that you, uh,” he clears his throat. “Not that you should feel, uh, pressured, or anything. I just mean like, hey, you worked all night and just went through a pretty rough event, and you’re probably tired, and probably pretty hungry as well, and a coffee place just opened up a street away that I’ve heard good things about. I’ve wanted to try it out, for a while actually, and I wanted to, uh, see if I’d have the honor of you joining me…”

“Eliot,” you laugh as you step closer, placing your hand on his face to guide his eyes to yours. “Don’t be stupid. I’d love to go with you,” he smiles and it warms every bit of you. “Just let me grab my bag and clock out, I’ll meet you outside in a moment.”

He sputters through an “okay, sure, yeah,” before you both turn to leave – him out the front doors and you behind the large one your boss had just been hidden behind. Your hands shake just a little as you insert the little card into the dinosaur of a machine, the loud noise and sputtering sound it makes now white noise as you grab your purse and rejoin him outside.

When you arrive at the coffee shop (aptly named “The Bean Spot”) you order a caramel latte with a cheese Danish, Eliot getting a simple black coffee with cream along with a walnut muffin. You wait for your breakfast in relative silence, neither you nor Eliot sure what to say after such an event. When the food and drink are handed over to you, you find a spot tucked in the back with an excellent view of the whole place.

The coffee shop is nearly empty since it’s still so early in the morning – the only patrons coming in, getting their coffee, and zipping off to the next part of their day. It’s nice to be the only inert thing, the movements of the people around you providing a nice cover as they zip past, locking you and Eliot in your own little world as the world stretches its arms and prepares for another day of hustle and bustle.

By contrast, you and Eliot are wide awake, laughing as you swap horrible roommate stories and whatever else comes to mind. He asks about your degree but has enough class not to ask you about your graduation year (a rare feature of conversations these days), talking to you about all the books you’ve read and professors you’ve liked.  

It’s odd – not bad, per say – but odd nonetheless, to be able to talk freely and openly and having him in front of you, within arm’s length as your knees barely touch under the small table. Seeing him in this space, a space more conducive to conversation and watching his hands as they pick at his blueberry scone and watching his mouth as the corners of his lips twist into a smile every so often and watching –

You blush at your own serial-killer-like thoughts, trying to suppress them with another sip of way too expensive but totally worth it coffee.

Eliot notices, because of course he does. “Hey, you alright?”

You nod, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. “Y-yeah, just-“

He smiles warmly, one hand moving to cradle your chin – to guide your downcast eyes to his. “It’s weird, seeing me in a new place, isn’t it?”

Once again, you nod. “It’s not that I don’t-“

“It’s okay,” his smile widens even as he now avoids your gaze, his hands moving to his lap as he fiddles with them. “It’s…I understand. Trust me, I get it.”

You exhale deeply, your shoulders falling a little. “I’ve thought a lot about this moment for, like, since you walked into the store for the first time…to have you here,” you gestured vaguely to the rest of the coffee shop, to the very few customers and baristas chatting about something you can’t hear and don’t care to pay attention to. “It’s…I don’t know. It’s not as if you’ve fallen short of expectations-“

Eliot gives a little chuckle, mumbling an “I sure hope so” with a glimmer in his eye that makes you want to jump on his lap and kiss him right there. Somehow, you find it in you to continue.

“It’s just super, super weird,” you tell him honestly. “And I don’t like it.”

The man in front of you leans forward, placing a hand over yours to calm you down.  

“How about we get out of here,” Eliot murmurs, voice warm and thick like the caramel drizzle over your latte. “I have an espresso machine at my place, and could make you homemade baked goods a million times better than whatever you bought, and we can continue this in a space where the baristas don’t misspell my name on overpriced coffee.”

He gestures to the cup labeled Elliott, wincing as he does so. It makes you laugh, and you nod in agreement. Together you down the coffee and throw the empty cups along with the wrapping for your pastry away. It’s natural – the way the two of you move – as if you’ve known each other for a millennia, as if whatever it is between you two that’s formed is already as strong and sturdy as an oak tree.

Eliot places one of his large hands on the small of your back as you exit the cafe, thumbing at the fabric of your sweater as you wait to cross the street. It’s comforting – just a flash of the fire that he started for you back at the store a mere hours earlier, heat warming your blood from your toes and up your spine. As he guides you to his apartment his hand finds yours, his fingers fitting neatly next to yours as he points out parts of the city you’ve never slowed down enough to see.

You may not have known Eliot for very long, but even within that short amount of time (and even shorter conversations) he had become a safe house for you, one that you could easily make a home.

And, unbeknownst to the other person, the both of you intended on doing just that.

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer/reader #eliot spencer fanfiction #eliot spencer #leverage #lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff

[fictionfromafar]

The Transparency Of Time by Leonardo Padura 🇨🇺

The Transparency Of Time

Leonardo Padura

Translated by Anna Kushner

Bitter Lemon Press

Publication Date: 10 June 2021

#RandomTTours

A new Leonardo Padura novel is never a small matter. Recognised as Cuba’s finest living author by The Washington Post, Padura is one of the most highly regarded contemporary novels in Latin America. Unlike many other Cuban writers, Padura continues to live in Cuba. He has written historic novels on Ernest Hemmingway and Leon Trotsky yet he is perhaps best known for his seminal Havana Quartet featuring Lieutenant Mario Conde. These were brought to the attention of English language readers in the mid noughties by Bitter Lemon Press. Televised by Spanish television as Four Seasons In Havana these are available to watch on Netflix.

Despite releasing Conde from active police service, Padura has been keen to return at times to return to his most celebrated character, this is the ninth Conde novel. In Havana Fever we saw Conde visiting the older homes of Havana for book collections which he could then sell for profit. While this would provide him with sustenance, on principle he would refuse to sell Cuban literature to international buyers as he believed the country’s treasures should always remain on the island.

Central to all Padura’s novel is of course Cuba and through his words, as readers we learn how his city has transformed over the years. Set in Autumn 2014 a month before Conde’s sixtieth birthday, neither Conde or Havana are in particularly good shape: “Mario Conde knew perfectly well that being old – even being old without being an old fart – is a horrifying condition due to all it entails, but especially because it carries with it an incontrovertible threat; the statistical and physiological approach of death… just one, one quarter of life left.”

Furthermore, he is struggling financially as he is finding fewer books even with the help of his dealing friend Yoyi. However his luck appears to change when the latter puts him back in contact with Bobby Roque, who was a fellow pupil of Conde’s school many years before. Roque, who used to be a staunch Marxist is now a flamboyant Santeria practitioner and homosexual, needs Conde to investigate the disappearance of his younger lover Dubois who vanished taking many of Roque’s valuables including his treasured statue of the Virgen de Regla – a black Madonna. This is particularly precious as Roque believes it has healing powers.

Conde takes on the case as it is financially beneficial to him and starts by speaking to his former Sergeant Manola to obtain details on Dubois. When the information received is not as expected, Conde delves into a far larger investigation where two men lose their lives.

Leonardo Padura’s novels have a fantastic sense of setting and we can feel Conde’s love hate relationship with the city where he lives: “Every time he wandered the streets of central Havana, increasingly run down by poverty and neglect, Conde was determined to find, beneath the layers of dirt, age and precariousness of all kinds the possibility that any of its charms had survived.” For Conde’s generation life has become very difficult, almost depressive - a contemporary of his points out that “you have good days and then you have days that are worse.”

This hardship is maybe the reason that Conde is then happy to spend some of his earnings on a meal and drinks for his friends that would equate to an average Cuban’s weekly earnings. Conde and his friends Rabbit and Candito take a trip to what he terms “the world of the invisible” – these are the shanty town ‘settlements’ where many people from the east of the island move in search of work. They are horrified by the conditions there – “like Haiti, or Africa or Hell. Aside from one priest’s mention of the “speeches and promises” there is no mention of the causes of this depravation - no criticism of the Cuban Government nor the punative US sanctions

The cliché goes that for each person who leaves Havana for the west, another would replace them from the east. Conde has lived in a country which he felt had reduced its misery through concerted will and effort, yet increasingly it seems that the majority live in misery except for those who have benefited from ill-gotten gains. A reoccurring theme is Conde trying to find anyone who actually has a reputable job. There is though still charm to stories such as the man with no shoes.

The book is broadly split between Conde’s investigation, Padura’s examinations of Cuba’s changing society and then separate to these we follow the timeless Antoni Barral during the Spanish civil war and later in the book the blockade of Acre during the crusades. Bear with these parts as they do tie into the book. Providing some vital historical context, they show Padura's willingness to stretch his imagination and those of his readers.

The translation is both lucid and fluid. The translator is Anna Kushner, the daughter of Cuban exiles, who had also translated Padura’s The Man Who Loved Dogs and Heretics; Guillermo Rosales’s The Halfway House and Leapfrog; and Norberto Fuentes’s The Autobiography of Fidel Castro.

Drawn in to work with his former police colleagues Conde finds their generation’s outlook very different to his. We also see him sense déjà vu and sentimentally look back on some previous investigations through the story, but no prior back knowledge of Conde’s earlier novels are required to enjoy The Transparency Of Time. The investigation takes Conde to very different parts of the cities with a large number of potential suspects. His skill and experience are key to solving the mystery behind the Virgen de Regla and its whereabouts. He is also left to conclude that there are actually two invisible cities within Havana.

There are few novelists who can absorb you into both a crime fiction novel and the feel of a city as Leonardo Padura can do. Whether you are new to the series or a seasoned reader, there is plenty to enjoy about The Transparency Of Time even though it does leave you with a melancholic sentiment for his homeland. Many thanks to Alex Hippisley-Cox at Bitter Lemon Press for a free advance review copy of The Transparency Of Time and to Anne Cater at Random Things Tours for inclusion in the blog tour. Please check out these other reviews.

I am running a book give away to win The Transparency Of Time and Into The Mouth Of A Lion via Twitter

#cubanlife #Cuba Crime Fiction #crime fiction #crimeintranslation #latinamericancrimefiction

[otome0heart]

[Fanfic] Always You (Victor)

On Monday, it’ll be a month since I started my self-isolation (a day before the State of Alarm was declared in my country) so, after very stressing weeks teleworking and learning how to do and master things against the clock, I had an idea for a short fluffy thing to indulge myself. I ended up, as I said in my previous post, writing a long angst-filled story (romantic, yes, but angsty). But, I’m not going to argue with my Muse. Maybe next time...

Title: Always You

Genre: Angsty Romance

Words: 2249

Notes: I’m still on Episode 12 of the game, so I’m not sure if what I described can be canon or not, but please, be lenient with me ^^U Also, it might be SPOILERISH? regarding MC and the plot (I don’t really know, but I prefer to say it beforehand). And, since English is not my mother tongue, if you spot any mistakes, please, tell me.

I hope you like it :) And I really wish that you and your loved ones are safe and sound during this difficult time.

.

ALWAYS YOU

Her body was light as she floated in a timeless world of blues and misty whites, the breeze caressing her cheeks and playing with her hair. The hem of her long dress danced around her ankles as she moved her legs, one in front of the other, jumping around like a curious little fawn discovering the forest for the first time. Everything around her was placid and silent, and for a moment, she felt like she could stay there forever, her mind and soul at peace. However, there was something missing in her heart, an empty ache replacing whatever warmth should be there. And, closing her eyes, she wished she could fill it.

The fluffy clouds felt amazing beneath her feet when she landed on them, like walking on a sea of feathers. She was surrounded by cotton-like mountains of all shapes and heights, and she watched in awe as they shifted and changed with the slightest gust of wind. It was stronger there and she had to grab her skirt to avoid it coiling around her knees a few times.

The young woman inhaled deeply, the fresh smell of rain filling her lungs and making her feeling more alive than ever. She moved about the figures, looking around and behind them, observing their colours, in all shades of grey and white until she realised that the wind was pushing the clouds towards a city in the distance, its skyline so familiar that it brought a warm sensation to her chest. It was home. She kept on walking, brushing the mist with her fingers and feeling the water particles leave their dampness on her skin. It was a pleasant sensation, relaxing and also, exciting, as her skin tingled with delight. She did not feel cold despite wearing light clothes and being barefoot, but she barely paid attention to it.  It had been long since she had stopped wondering about her dreams, and had learnt to enjoy the pleasant ones and pay attention to the most enigmatic.

The rumble of thunder was heard and she looked down curiously, feeling the vibration on the soles of her feet. Below her, she could see the ocean of buildings that made Loveland City, some so high that their top tore the clouds, appearing and disappearing as the fog healed the wound a moment later. The spire of a skyscraper emerged just a few centimetres from her and she jumped back, startled. Bringing a hand to her chest, sighing in relief, she decided to find another place to rest for a while, far from the most modern part of the city. After wandering for a while, she finally stopped when she arrived at a specially thick part of the cloudy landscape that surrounded her. She sat down, experiencing a sensation similar to when she rested on the soft carpet of the living room, and looked ahead. In the space between two clouds that were shaped akin to whipped cream decorations on a dish, she could see the green extension of Brocade Park, the largest green area in the place where she lived. She watched the luscious verdant extension as the clouds lazily glided over it. The park was deserted, being the rain its only visitor, and she lied down on her stomach, feeling her whole body relax while watching her favourite place in the city, her spirit regaining some of its calmness.

As her lids started to drop, some movement and a flash of colour picked up her interest. A lonely black umbrella moved slowly along the white wooden bridge on the lake that led to a small pavilion, and she wondered why its hidden owner had decided to venture out in such unpleasant weather. The person under the umbrella stopped, looking at the water, and then, lifted their head. Even though she could not see their face clearly from her high position, she felt her heart skip a beat as if that glance had pierced her soul, and she felt compelled to them. As if answering her wishes, the clouds opened slowly under her and she descended until her feet touched the floor just behind the figure. It was a man, tall and well-dressed, and a small smile spread across her lips as she recognised his unmistakable silhouette. She extended her hand and touched his arm, her mouth already forming his name.

Instead of the slightly rough texture of the cloth of the coat, made of the finest wool, she had expected, her fingers curled around the soft silk the bed sheets were made of. With a barely audible sigh, the young woman opened her eyes slowly, the fog of dreams that still clouded her mind beginning to fade. She was on her side, nestled warmly under the eiderdown duvet which covered the bed, one hand under her chin, the other under the pillow, pinching the case with her index and thumb, bringing her loose fragments of a pleasant dream that, however, had left her troubled inside.

She closed her lids once more trying to picture the man of her dream. She knew him, she was sure of it, but no matter how much she tried, his features were unclear. And that fact unnerved her. She had been deceived more than once and that uneasiness in her chest was planting the seed of doubt in her mind. What if that was not who she thought, and her dream was a warning... She would need to take her time to reflect and decipher it.

She opened her eyes again, this time wider, only to realise that the lamp on the bedside table opposite her was turned on. She lifted her head a bit and her eyes set on the figure next to her. Her husband was sitting on the bed, his back leaning on his pillow against the headboard, covered by the duvet up to his chest. He was wearing his glasses and his eyes stared at the graphics on his tablet, making notes on a few papers on his lap with his fountain pen from time to time. His hair was a little dishevelled, falling over his forehead.

She liked to watch him secretly in those intimate moments at home because they allowed her to glimpse at a hidden side of Victor that he only let out when his guard was low, like when he sang French love songs under his breath when he was cooking, the little smile that adorned his face as he enjoyed his cup of coffee while reading a book, sitting on his favourite armchair, or when he slept peacefully beside her, his skin always brushing even the smallest part of hers, needing the reassurance of her presence next to him. As if he was afraid of losing her if he did not touch her the slightest. Probably, he was not aware of those little things, and that was what made them all the more precious for her.

He side glanced at her briefly and found her eyes on him.

“Did I wake you up?” he murmured.

His wife shook her head slightly, a small smile appearing on her lips.

“You should go back to sleep, then. It's still dark outside.”

A small shiver ran down her back, remembering her dream. There was a chance that she would be able to find the identity of the mysterious man if she closed her eyes again, but something inside her told her not to do it. From what she recalled, her instinct told her she knew and trusted that man but her heart was still hammering in her chest uncomfortably as if a part of her doubted it.

“What are you doing? Working?” she answered him with a question of her own, lifting herself on one elbow and sliding over to him. Victor frowned a bit but did not say anything about her behaviour.

“Yes. I need some data for a meeting on Monday afternoon.”

She hummed her answer and leant closer to him, feeling his warmth starting to comfort her. How typical of her husband, wanting to have everything under control way before any event... The weekend had just started.

“Can I stay with you?”

Victor observed his wife with a slight frown. If there was something she loved as much as food and him, that was her sleep. Also, the fact that she avoided looking at him in the eye, told him that something was wrong with her.

“Did something happen?”

She startled a bit and then, shook her head, her sight still fixed on his handwriting.

“No, why?”

He left the tablet beside him on the duvet and turned his full attention to her.

“Because I know you.”

The young woman ducked her head a bit, biting her lower lip slightly in an unconscious nervous gesture. Victor sighed softly and put the cap on his fountain pen, leaving it, the device and the papers on the bedside table. He, then, lifted his arm and held her by the shoulders, coaxing her gently to lean into him. She made herself comfortable, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Did you dream something unsettling?”

“Not really…” she replied after a short pause, playing with the lapel of his jacket.

“Are you sure...?” her fingers stilled on his chest and after a few more seconds of silence, he continued. “Can I do something?”

She shook her head once again.

“No, it's just... I think my imagination is playing with me” she brushed her cheek against the fabric of his pyjamas. “It was a pleasant dream but upon waking up I felt... troubled...”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

She lifted her head to look at him. He was completely focused on her, his mauve pupils full of concern and, though she had decided to keep it to herself and take her time pondering over it, she nodded and began to speak. He listened to every word carefully, taking in her expression and each single of her gestures.

“I know deep inside that…” she stopped and started again. “I was convinced that it was you, but...”

He waited patiently for her to continue, but she did not.

“But? Is there something else?” he asked sensing her restlessness in her silence.

“Nothing, really, it ended there… Yet, what if it's a warning?” a delicate frown marred her features and she clenched her jaw. “ What if someone tries to get to us again? What if you...”

He cupped her cheek with his other hand and kissed her forehead, trying to reassure her.

“Nothing will happen…” he whispered, caressing her skin with his thumb.

“But-”

He brushed her lips with his softly, cutting off her words, pressing more firmly when she whispered his name in protest until he felt her response. He kissed her slowly, gently, to let her know that he was there and that there was nothing to be scared of. Little by little, she relaxed in his arms, her fingers circling his waist to bring him closer to her, seeking not only his physical warmth but also, the comfort that his nearness gave her in those vulnerable moments.

Victor deepened the kiss when she opened her mouth under his, holding her firmly until he felt her pressed tightly against him, her grasp on his back as desperate as his. Many times he had had the same fears as her, that after so many difficulties and so much suffering, the nightmare returned, she vanished from his side and he could never find her, even searching until his last breath. Sometimes, he woke up in the middle of the night and his only comfort was finding her curled up next to him. He, then, brushed the back of her hand with a fingertip, or his toes against her foot, with great care of not disturbing her, to calm his thundering heart and being able to rest again. And even though they had promised once not to have secrets between them, that was something he could not tell her. It would only make her upset and increase her worry, and he could not allow that to happen. Way before that vow, he had made one to himself to protect her happiness at all costs, and that had been his top priority since life had reunited them again.

Gradually, the anxiety hidden in their kisses, in their embrace, disappeared, giving way to loving touches and wandering lips brushing her closed lids, her temple, his slightly rough jaw with just the faintest shade of stubble, his brow.

“Everything’s going to be fine” he murmured leaving another gentle kiss on his wife’s lips.

With her cheeks still red as apples, she cupped his face, gazing deeply into his eyes.

“I don't want to lose you.”

“You'll never lose me” his voice was firm as he returned her glance, full of determination. “In your dream, I'm sure that you found me, waiting for you to come back.

Her features softened and she smiled lightly, He, then, kissed the top of her head and embraced her tightly, sliding both of them down further under the covers.

“It's still early. Go back to sleep. I'll guard your dreams and keep you safe.”

“But...” she seemed hesitant as she looked at him. “What about your work?”

He chuckled softly, his eyes, filled with affection, finding hers, as his hand turned the switch of his lamp off, leaving the room in total darkness.

“It can wait until later.”

THE END

#otome games #mr love queen's choice #mlqc #fanfic #mlqc victor #li zeyan

[ithilloktewrites]

Wooing a Higurashi - Madara/Kagome Chapter 1

I hope you all enjoy this fic as much as I am writing it. It will be completed before I ever post it to an actual fanfic site. Please enjoy this two-chapter preview!

Chapter 1

Kagome raised her bow, aimed and fired. Power lit her arrow, and towards the attack coming towards her. She was not its intended target. There had been a man who had dodged the huge flames, but had been unable to avoid the kunai aimed at his neck. He was dead now. Kilala waited in her smaller form at Kagome’s feet. The nullification of the attack brought the weaver’s attention to her. She no longer wore the green and white uniform she wore around the feudal era. She would have brought too much attention to herself. Besides, for this place, it was more practical. Her barrier never wavered, and the man appeared suddenly in front of her, gunbai brandished. Kilala hissed in warning at him. She watched his eyes briefly scan over her companion. She did the same.

Long spikey hair framed a pale face. His eyes were red, and there were three… Tomoe? They spun lazily around the pupil, and his face overall was rather handsome. The marks under his eyes spoke of many tiresome nights he had stayed up late. Though it was hard to tell, with how his hair fell and covered half of his face. He was very tall, well over a foot taller than her. And he wasn’t just tall, he was very broad, and well muscled as well. He did not wear armor like she had seen other shinobi do. He wore only fabric. At his waist, he had a white belt that held a pouch to him, presumably with his shinobi tools in them. The collar on the shirt was high, reaching just under his chin, in a dingy navy color. Below the belt, the robe he wore parted to reveal black pants with the ends tucked and wrapped into bandages that ended right above his ankles. Simple sandals kept his feet from being injured.

“Sorry about that. It was coming my way, and I’m not a shinobi, so I can’t move away like you can, so I nullified it instead. I’m sorry if I bothered you. It wasn’t my intention.”

Her explanation to him only seemed to arouse his suspicion, however.

The man’s blazing red eyes glared down at her. She knew about shinobi. She’d learned it very quickly when she was first dropped here. She did not let her barrier waver, ever. It had to be strong at all times to protect her, and those who’d come with her.

“Besides, I’m after these bamboo shoots, it’s what I was looking for.”

She pointed to the small patch of bamboo, the shoots just starting to emerge from the soil at her feet. The man narrowed his eyes, and before she could blink, he had struck her barrier with the giant fan. The chain wrapped around it, but she held her barrier firm. The man’s eyes narrowed, and she noticed that the tomoe were spinning around his pupils. He frowned again, and she stared him in the eyes. She blinked and felt something try to touch her mind. She batted it away. Paltry mental attacks would not work on her, not after all the mind control spells and illusions she had broken through. She raised her brow at him, and Kilala moved in front of her, growling with the fur along her spine ruffling, and her tails puffing up.

“Well aren’t you rude. I’ve done and given nothing but civility, and you try to kill me, and attack me mentally. Though I should expect that of shinobi. All of you are so barbaric, killing everyone that doesn’t belong to your clans and it doesn’t matter if your targets are shinobi or little children. How pathetic and disgusting.”

She knelt to the bamboo shoots she had come for. She pulled a small garden knife out. It looked quite a bit like a kunai, but it’s shape told that it wasn’t. She knelt down and began to dig. He pulled the chain around her barrier back to him in a manner that would have been instant death if it had been wrapped around her person. That meant only one thing. He was still trying to kill her. Most likely for her ‘barbarians’ comment. Sadly it was true. She’d come across the bodies of small children that had been killed with shuriken and other tools, completely covered in wounds. She’d buried so many of them herself, and usually cried for days afterwards. Some she’d been able to save, having arrived in time. She narrowed her eyes at the shoots she was still trying to dig up. Why was something like foraging for food so difficult to believe? Had they never seen a miko before?

‘I wish it wouldn’t come to this. Can’t I just make a friend that for once, won’t try to kill me? It’s been two months, and I have barely seen anyone. Of them, all wanted to kill me on sight. What is wrong with this world?!’

She pulled a piece of the special talisman making cloth-paper mix from her suikan, and pulled out a pen, clicking the end open. She wrote her command on it, and held it ready in her hand, returning her pen to its previous location in her suikan. She watched him move around her barrier, trying to see what she was doing with her hands. She huffed and continued digging, the talisman held in her other hand. She didn’t try to hide it either. There was no point. She instead made it plain as day what she had in her hand. The man watched her outside her barrier. When she’d dug up all the bamboo shoots she needed for that night, she stood, and picked up her basket. Kilala led her to some more edible plants she could smell, meowing to get her attention, and always keeping an eye on the stranger. Kagome followed the little feline, her face lighting up when she saw what Kilala smelled. Her barrier followed with her. The man seemed to disappear. He’d moved underground. She could feel his energy moving through it.

‘Too bad my barrier is a perfect sphere. Don’t whack your head too hard down there, shinobi.’

“Oh! Kogami! Thanks Kilala, I would have totally missed those! Shippo will say thank you too. And I see some horsetail too. Perfect!”

Kagome saw the man appear and then move to make another attack. She altered her barrier just a touch. The moment the gunbai hit her barrier, it started being sucked in. The man’s face changed from one of suspicion, to one of horror. Closer and closer his hand came to the barrier. More and more the gunbai was pulled in. Harder and harder he pulled on it, but to no avail. He watched, helplessly pulling what he had a grip on to try and dislodge it from her barrier.

“Damn woman, let go of my gunbai!”

“So you can attack me with it? I don’t think so. You’re not getting it back until you can act like a civilized adult, and you're finished with your temper tantrum. Then you need to apologize for your rudeness. You're not getting it back until you do.”

The man glared at her. His hand touched the barrier then. Initially nothing seemed to happen, but the closer and more firmly he touched the barrier, the more his hand heated up, then became uncomfortable, then irritated, and finally began to burn. Still she did not let up, even when the smell of burnt flesh began to fill the field. Finally he released his gunbai. It fell harmlessly inside her barrier, on the ground. Any energy he’d channeled into it had been dissipated as it passed through. So even if he’d done something to it, it wouldn’t have done anything.

She noticed him flipping his hands around from her peripheral vision. Then he breathed in and then out through his mouth. A giant fireball formed, and she knew he was trying to overwhelm her so he might pass through her barrier. The area around her caught on fire, and quickly turned to ashes. She blinked at him and finished gathering the kogami, before moving to the patch of horsetail not too far away, and protected by her barrier. She wasn’t even phased. Then he stopped and stared at her. He watched her. She sighed.

“Alright Kilala, is there a river or any good game nearby?”

Kilala looked around her, ears perked and listening. She couldn’t sense any game, but she did hear a river. Kagome picked up the gunbai and wound the chain neatly, sliding the length of the handle into her quiver, and the chain with the kama into the basket on her back. She approached the feline with her previous question in mind.. Kilala transformed. She knew Kagome wouldn’t be able to maneuver the forest with that weapon on her back. Kagome didn’t argue. The man behind her stopped a moment, tense and standing in a battle stance, face furrowed, eyes wide. Kagome snorted at him, then approached Kilala, and swung her leg over the large feline’s back.

“Return my gunbai!”

Kagome rolled her eyes.

“No. That’s not how you ask nicely, jerk!”

The man growled. He knew he couldn’t do anything, and so did she. She still held the paper in her hand. She was still ready to hold him in place if he tried anything. Kilala bounded up, her paws running on the air at a leisurely pace. She could feel him following them. She knew he would not leave his weapon behind. She also knew she had offended him when he’d demanded his gunbai back. She had a feeling that she would be going back to the place she had claimed with it tonight, and that she would see this man quite often. Just a hunch she had though. Hovering along the river, she saw that it was the perfect place for large fish to catch prey in the fast moving waters. She pulled some line out, and put a small piece of jerky on the hook. One of the last pieces she had. She hoped something liked the smell of it.

She carefully unwound the line from her hand, and let the current move it down stream some. The man watched her, before walking on top of the water, looking at the line she was using. He was examining it, before a small stone ricochet off her barrier. He was testing to see if it was still there. She rolled her eyes at him, and held in a disgusted noise. Kagome guided Kilala to move downstream a little, she could see one eyeing her bait. She saw it curl up, preparing itself, then strike. She jerked hard on the line, and when it was caught, Kilala shot up, pulling the fish straight out of the water, no fighting needed. It would wiggle and fight while hanging, but would otherwise be easy to reel in.

Then the line went light, and the tension in it disappeared.

‘He wouldn’t! He did!’

The jerk had cut the line! The line itself said that. It would have been frayed if it had broken, but it was a clean cut! She saw him put the kunai away, and walk to the shore, the fish long gone. She was so mad! She was scared! They needed that fish! The guts would have been enough to make bait for more fish, which meant more food! She needed the food, she needed to preserve it for winter! How dare he! She’d been nothing but civil, and kind to him! Others would have killed him in her position. She didn’t! She filled the talisman with her horiki, and flicked it at him.

“You jerk! That hook was all I had! Winter is coming quickly, and I need all the food I can get to preserve for it!”

When he turned to smirk over his shoulder, the talisman just missed him. He had excellent reflexes. His eyes were wide in confusion. Which meant he had seen what she wrote on it. She aimed an arrow at him, filled it with power, and released it. The moment she did, Kilala dove at the jerk just seeing her arrow. He dodged the attack, but didn’t realize that the feline had also followed after the arrow with her, and was coming for him with her on his back. Large teeth and claws flew at him, and even she could see that he had a hard time dodging them. She pushed her energy outward, knocking him backwards, and hopefully stunning him for a moment. It was all she needed.

A second too late he realized it was all a big distraction, as the talisman was waiting for him. He didn’t sense it. It landed square on the middle of his forehead, dropping on him from above. He dropped to the ground. He was still awake. She could see him blinking, and his chest rose and fell. Kilala landed beside him. She could tell that he was kicking himself for underestimating her.

“Well, since you cut my line, and lost the last hook I had to catch fish with, you don’t get your gunbai back, you get to stay here, immobile and unable to move until that talisman runs out. We’ll call it fair trade. And if I ever see you again, it better be with something to make up for what you cost me, or you won’t ever get it back, you murdering jerk! Have fun sleeping with the bears and wolves. If I were a cruel person I’d make a single cut on you that bled pretty well, and leave you here where rats and the like would eat you alive, but as a Miko, I won’t do that. I am not dishonorable, like you. I haven’t done anything to you, yet you tried to kill me, stalked me, tried to destroy the foods I was collecting before I could collect them, and lost the protein we needed to stay healthy. You're disgusting! How dare you! I hope I don’t ever have to see your nasty face again. Not even the demons back home were such jerks!”

With a curl of her lip, flashing her teeth, a habit she had picked up from all the canine and feline yokai she had lived and traveled with in her world, she turned away when her burning eyes pooled with tears in her frustration. The actions perfectly portrayed her disgust with him, and she saw his eyes widen. She collected her arrow, then turned her nose up at him again. She remounted Kilala and they took to the air and started the journey back to the area they were working on. They left the man on the bank of the river, very vulnerable. He deserved it.

Wooing a Higurashi Chapter 2:

https://ithilloktewrites.tumblr.com/post/655141752516362240/wooing-a-higurashi-madarakagome-chapter-2?is_related_post=1

#Wooing A Higurashi #MadaraKagome #rarepair #fanfic #crossovers #IthillokteWrites #sneak peek #preview #world jumping #naruto feudal era #founders fic #Tobirama is a dick #Madara is trying #Izuna is saved #war #things that happen in war #humans are the worst #war is the worst tbh #cover warning for the entirety of this fic! #dark #there is physical violence and killing #Kagome is a healer #harsh realities #will tag properly on AO3 when I complete and post it

[the-cosmic-blogger]

I finally finished another story for my Post-AHiT AU! hope you like!

(//////////////)

Apologies and Fulfilled Wishes

Mustache Girl, ever since her defeat, had been counting the days in Mafia Town. She crossed out tics in the cave she had called home, and kept the time piece she'd woken up to safe and hidden. The hooded blonde sighed and leaned against a wall, crossing her arms, and then slid down it, her hazel eyes glancing downward.

A shadow soon loomed over her, and it looked fluffy and familiar. "Oh, there you are, kiddo. I've been looking all over for you!"

"Really?" Mu frowned, recognizing the voice, and slowly looked up at him. "Come to gloat or perhaps finish the…" and that's when she noticed that Snatcher looked so much different from before, and the rest of her words died on her lips. Her eyes were wide.

There floated Snatcher, green tips marking his fluff, claws and tail. What's more? he had defined eyebrows! and he looked less relieved now and.. sadder.

"Snatcher?" she squinted, before the demon ghost quickly rushed to hug her, seeming to sob. Mu had let out a yelp, before she just.. stood there, brain not working. What the…

"I'm sorry, kiddo.." the dark apparition muttered.

And that's when her brain started working again, and she pushed him away slightly. "What? I literally made life hell for all of you. And you're the one who's sorry?"

The demon sighed, tears still falling from his almond-shaped golden eyes, and those white and large oval pupils stared into the red-clad girl. "You were just a kid… and.." he glanced around, biting his lip rather hard and rubbing at his arm. Her situation only just now hit him like a freight train.

"Homeless? resentful because of what those goons did?" she supplied with her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes.

He slowly nodded. He also added, "You had grown up.. without anyone to guide you properly."

Mu's eyes widened and tears started to well up unbidden. Her stance got much less hostile. "How did you..?"

"A little birdy told me," Snatcher replied. He bent down to gently wipe the tears. The blonde raised an eyebrow, before she raised an arm and pushed his comforting claw away, unused to the feeling.

The demon understood. The mustached girl furrowed her brow. Hat Kid.. she was the little birdy. She eventually shook her head. "Who said I needed your help? I'm not some damsel in distress."

"I know, kiddo," he sniffled, and let out a shuddering sigh. "But you.."

"Not from you," Mu scowled, and he flinched back. She got up and started to pace, not once removing her stare.  "I recall quite clearly everyone saying that you all 'don't need a hero; get lost'. Well, guess what?" she stopped pacing, hands on her hips. "I lost. You won," she pointed at him, "and you don't need to associate with me."

"...I'm really sorry, kiddo.." Snatcher bowed his head.

Mustache Girl gazed at him, frowning. She eventually broke the silence with,  "You're a bad guy. Why aren't you acting like one anymore?"

"People change, kid," the demon ghost didn't hesitate. "It's been years since the fight."

She looked at her tics on the wall, grabbing one arm, and her eyes widened. He was right. Six years had passed. And everyone looked the same as usual. Including herself. Snatcher was the only one who visibly changed too.

"Well. I suppose I've also changed," she glanced towards where she kept the time piece. They didn't solve her issues at all. They seemed to have made them worse. Mu fidgeted. "All I've wanted now was for things to go back to how they were. Where there weren't any bad guys. Where mum and pa were still here. Where my friends were still here." She sighed. "But it's been so long that they're probably gone. Even if I use the time piece, it'll just be one shot and I can't handle that."

Snatcher just listened, his brow furrowed upward. Mu bit her lip and suddenly whipped her head up, both eyebrows raised. "Why am I telling you all this?"

"Dunno.. but you have a time piece?" he inquired.

The girl nodded. "It must have fallen from Hat Kid's ship. Somehow. But I've come to accept the fact that I can't change a thing. The one time I did I messed up." She shrugged nonchalantly.

Vin bit his lip. It was sad how accepting she was towards this issue. So much so that she stopped trying. And it was all his fault. She was just a kid. He reached for her chin to provide comfort, but pulled back when she gave him an incriminating stare. Right. "What if I helped?"

Mu's eyes practically bulged, but she quickly regained composure, looking up at him. "You'd really help a hero?"

The demon ghost didn't hesitate in nodding and the girl kept staring. He felt her shields lower when she finally nodded back. "Thanks, Snatcher.."

He replied with a soft smile, "Please, call me Vin."

The mustached girl raised an eyebrow. "Is that your real name or something?"

Vin took a sharp breath. He shook his head. "It.. just sounds right, kiddo.."

Mu blinked. Did that strike some sort of nerve? she felt a little bad, but this demon was also formerly a bad guy. So she didn't feel that bad. "So..?"

"You stay here," the demon gently instructed. "I'll find Mafia Boss."

The girl was about to protest, but the last time she did something herself she messed up and lost. So she crossed her arms. "Fine."

"Things will be okay, kid. I promise," he reassured her again before he flew out and off into town.

The blonde watched the demon ghost disappear pensively. Before she smirked a bit. Since when did she follow directions?

=========

Many interrogations and much Mafia fear later and Vin found himself in the lair. There was so much gold and jewelry here. He figured they were stolen goods from the people who used to live here. He floated down the halls, unknowingly being followed by a certain someone.

A powerful Russian voice bellowed through the halls, and Vin now knew exactly which way to go. A jar of fluids and eyes and a mustache sat on the throne, thick eyebrows furrowed constantly. "Foolish girls. Foolish time pieces. If time was set back to how things were, how did I not get my body back too?!"

"Mafia does not know, boss!" a goon fanning him replied.

"Sorry, boss!" another goon standing guard responded, bowing his head.

"Eh!" the jar hopped with anger. "It's that little girl's fault! I'd do anything to get my body back!"

"Anything?" a new voice resounded through the halls, and it froze every goon in earshot. They knew that voice.

"Oh?!" Mafia Boss raised an eyebrow, floating blue eyes glaring around. "Who goes there?!"

And that's when Vin started to materialize from the shadows on the floor, and that's when the goons nearby ran for their lives. The jar looked up and up and up as the dripping shadow formed into a purple demon with freckles. "Wh..who are you?"

"Your worst nightmare…" the demon scowled at Mafia Boss, those glowing golden eyes staring down at him.

"Are you the one who's been eating the souls of the Mafia?!" the jar's eyes widened, and so did a certain kid's. "Don't eat mine, please!"

That question and plea were like arrows to the heart and Vin flinched, losing his terrifying aura. "I.. didn't want to.."

Mustache Girl gazed at them from the shadows, silently gulping down fear. She didn't exactly fear Vin before, but that was when she was all-powerful. Now, though…

"Preposterous!" Mafia Boss yelled, backing farther into his throne. "You enjoyed every minute of it, you monster!"

The demon bit his lip, and his thick eyebrows furrowed. Oh, that really hurt. But he simply threw it right back. "And you're not a monster?"

The question made Mafia Boss jump slightly, those eyebrows rising in the liquid. Vin got a little closer. "You and your goons drove the true natives of this island off, and you don't consider yourself a monster?"

The jar blinked, before he scoffed. "No other island is as perfect as this for Mafia! the residents were weak!"

"And that gives you the right…?" Vin was up in his face now, snarling, and Mafia Boss immediately lost heart, thinking this would be the end. But he kept strong, and didn't bother to reply. The demon backed up a bit, crossing his fluffy arms. "Well, how about we work out a deal? I heard you want your body back. I could make it happen."

The jar tilted to the side, eyebrows rising higher. "What will you get out of it?"

"Nothing much, just for you to give the former residents their livelihoods back," the demon replied.

Somewhere in the room, Mu smiled.

Mafia Boss found himself shaking and sweating. That was impossible now. "Oh ho.. but that's a no can do! it's been hundreds of years and I'm afraid the residents who lived here are long gone probably! Mafia doesn't know where they went!"

Vin bit his lip, and scowled harder. "Then I guess you won't get your body back…"

He turned to leave, but was stopped by a frantic jar. "Wait! I'll try to find them! every single one of them! we'll search every nook and cranny just please let me get my body back!"

Vin glanced over, and smiled. It wasn't warm in any way though. "Glad you reconsidered. And you better find them."

A scroll popped up in front of the jar, detailing the exact terms and conditions. A contract. Mafia Boss didn't hesitate signing it with a purple quill that appeared by his side.

"There. I'll send boats and airships right now!" Mafia Boss nodded rapidly.

"Good," Vin bestowed magic on the jar, and a cloud overcame the jar. Next thing they knew, it disappeared, revealing a mustached human being, clothed and all. He saluted and shakily reached for a microphone, and then slowly stood up and headed for the curtains.

Vin sighed, drooping slightly. If only he could give Subcon Forest and himself a second chance at true life that way. The demon started floating away, head bowed. Time to go tell Mu what happened.

But the girl herself jumped out of her hiding spot, startling the fur off Vin. "Woah! kiddo.. didn't I tell you to stay-"

"There, I know, but how could I miss this?" she grinned, eyes sparkling. "You really showed that bad guy what for! now I can have my family and friends back!"

"Easy there, kiddo.." Vin found he couldn't be mad at Mu, and smiled sadly. He wanted to break the news to her, that her family and friends may not be found or even exist anymore. But that'd break her heart. So he'd just let her be happy for once. It was a good look on her.

And then he found himself in a hug. Mu hummed. "Mmmm, thank you so much, Vin!" The part about him eating souls didn't exactly matter to her anymore. All that mattered was that she'd finally be at peace.

The demon blinked, and smiled even wider, hugging back. "You're welcome, kiddo…"

And so they strolled out of the palace, and lo and behold airships and boats were lined up and ready to depart. Sure, Mu would be almost alone on this island for a while, but she was more than happy to have a break from the Mafia. After all, she had a prospect to look forward to, and Vin promised to come visit her again.

Now.. to find a proper home...

The End

(//////////)

And there we go! I'll edit the master post soon and include the link in there! hope you enjoyed!

#long post #post ahit au #post ahit #post-ahit au #post-ahit #vin #au snatcher #my au snatcher #ahit au snatcher #ahit #a hat in time fanfiction #a hat in time au #a hat in time snatcher #ahit snatcher #ahit the snatcher #the snatcher ahit #the snatcher #snatcher #mafia boss #mustache girl #ahit mustache girl #ahit mafia boss #my fanfiction #my fanfic #ahit snatcher au #ahit fanfic #ahit fanfiction #my story #story #a hat in time fanfic

[tsumtsum-into-omiomi]

CHAPTER FOUR: THE PINK DIMENSION

warning(s): cursing

word count: 1.8k

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AO3

Located near the centre of Taishi, Inarizaki High is the town's pride for its design and prestige. The school used to house the prefecture's royalties and even though it has gone through multiple renovations over the years, its Japanese castle architectural elements are still apparent all over the school's exterior. Apart from its unique structure, academic practitioners from all over the world also flock the institution for its symposiums, which are held throughout every school term to discuss multiple magical subjects.

 The school's main building is its Rectory and it would be the first thing for one to notice even from afar. The elegant white walls are in stark contrast to its black, pointy roof with golden details forged onto it. Other parts of the school have the same colour palette as well. The school would reach its peak of beauty during spring, when the pink flowers of cherry blossom trees planted around the vast fields are in full bloom.                                                                                                                                                                                    

Next to the Rectory, the Potions faculty building appears small compared to it, when in fact, the faculty is the second largest after Pentagrams. Its roof manages to reach only half of the rectory's structure, making it the tallest than the rest of the faculty buildings (the Pentagrams faculty only wins in size, not height). A group of students can be seen exiting the Potions building’s main arch as school session for the day is over, including you and Suna, who are walking together towards the gate.

 The sunny afternoon sky is decorated with puffy clouds, which are moving lazily in the wind's direction. Rays of sunshine threaten to dazzle your eyes but the cherry blossom trees lining up the stone walkway shade you from them. Soft breeze blows some petals into your way as you enjoy the scent of spring that wafts in the air. You are glad that there are no signs of rain at all today since that would meddle with your after-school plans.

 "Gosh, this school is so big, I swear I feel like all of my cousins come here," Suna complains while faking a smile at a first year girl, who is hanging out under one of the trees with her friends.

 "Well, literally everyone in Taishi studies here. What do you expect?" you laugh, attention now directed at him and not the surrounding anymore.

 "For them to go study somewhere else, I guess," he retorts, sliding his hands into his pants' pockets. The smile on his face has disappeared.

 "At least, your sibling is not here," your eyes catch the twins waiting for you under a tree upfront. They also notice your appearance and wave at you two.

 "Oh, shut up. If not for them, you won't have any friends," Suna raises a hand at Atsumu and Osamu.

 "Whatever. You sure you don't wanna come?" you ask Suna one last time before parting ways with him.

 Suna shakes his head, "yeah, I wanna go home."

 "Do you need anything?"

 "Oh, right. Can you get me some stocks? Sparrow and jellyfish," he takes his wallet out to pass some money to you.

 "Won't they go bad before next week's class?" you accept the notes from him.

 "It's already Friday, class is on Monday. I think it would be fine," Suna waves his hand, dismissing your concern.

 "Okay, see ya," you swerve towards the twins. Suna echoes a goodbye behind you and keeps walking.

 "He's really not coming?" Atsumu asks when you are within hearing distance.

 "Yeah, but he asked me to get some stuff for him," you respond before stopping in front of them.

 "Lazy ass," Osamu disses. "Anyway, can I teleport?"

 "Bitch, no," you and Atsumu say at the same time.

 "Your sense of direction is so shitty, it'd take forever to get to Kudo Street," you pull a face.

 Atsumu then adds, "a lot of people are using the travel dimension at this hour. You'll surely hit someone although I don't know how is that  even possible since it's fucking huge in there."

 "But if I don't practise, I won't get better at teleporting??" Osamu argues.

 Atsumu lets out an exasperated sigh, "fine, you can teleport us on the way home. Let's go," he starts walking to lead the way. You and Osamu follow him from behind, heading towards the end of the walkway where the teleportation station is located at.

 The teleportation station consists of five open top cubic spaces lined together, conjoined on their sides. Each cube fits at least five people and has three transparent glass walls with a white marble floor, where you are supposed to draw your pentagrams on. Two auxiliary police officers are on guard to control the flow of traffic, making sure that the students are queueing up to use the cubicles. At the end of the station, you see a group of younger pupils, whom you assume are waiting for their guardians to pick them up because they're not eligible to travel on their own yet. Teleporting licenses can only be acquired once you are sixteen years old.

 You, Atsumu and Osamu get in one of the lines and wait for your turn. Every time a cubicle teleports people, you can hear swooshing noises as they dissipate into coloured light sparks and vanish from sight in a blink of an eye. Before long, the pair of siblings in front of you enter the cubicle you're lining up for and you're now at the front of the line. The elder sister draws the teleportation pentagram, her face scrunched up in concentration, and you watch as she conjures blue sparks on the marble floor.  

 That's when Atsumu drops the bomb on you.

 "You teleport us," he nudges your elbow with his.

 You and Osamu look at him wide-eyed, "bitch, what??"

 "Why won't you let me teleport, if you're letting her?!" Osamu slaps Atsumu's shoulder with the back of his hand.

 "Bitch, I said you will on the way back, didn't I??" Atsumu readjusts his bag's strap that shifted because of Osamu's hit just now.

 "Nooooo, Tsumu-nii channnnn!" you whine with a pout, swinging Atsumu's arm in an attempt to change his mind, "I don't want to teleport!"

 "And that's why you're getting shitty at it," he shakes you off before pushing you into the now empty cubicle, "go."

 "Fuck," you clench your fists but do as you’re told anyway since you don't want to hold the line up with your siblings’ bickering. Plus, Atsumu's right, you haven't been practising ever since you got your license a few months ago.

 Once you, Atsumu and Osamu gather in the middle of the cubicle, you inhale a deep breath whilst recollecting the pentagram shape for teleportation. In order to accommodate the number of people teleporting, your pentagram has to be huge and made to fit the whole floor. This will definitely consume a lot of energy. You sigh at the thought.

 "She doesn't want to do it," Osamu tries again, "let me!"

 "Shut up, Samu. Give her a second. Come on, you're gonna be okay," Atsumu encourages you with a pat on the shoulder.

 You click your tongue at him, "I hate you."

 Pointing a finger out at the marble underneath, you begin drawing invisible lines from memory that transform into yellow light sparks on the floor. It's a struggle but you manage to complete the shape that now surrounds you and the twins. Due to its size, the pentagram's glow this time is almost blinding and the fizzing noise that it produces is loud in your ears.

 "Teleport," you whisper.

 The hissing pentagram then floats and spins around the three of you as it nets your bodies tightly. You can feel its particles squeezing to decompose you into molecules. There is stiffness in your muscles and joints that prevents you from moving. The bright light forces you to shut your eyes while the sound is shrieking in your ears. You grit your teeth together and brace yourself for what's to come next.

 The sensations become almost unbearable. But before it could get any worse, you find yourself already dissipated into tiny yellow sparks of lights, floating in a different dimension that you're familiar with. The pentagram that you drew has turned into a glowing net, holding your and the twins' dematerialised bodies together. Your mind, still intact even though your body is not, notices other nets of bodies swooshing pass by to get to their destinations through the pink abstract space that you're in.

 It's bright here, but not overwhelming. There's no sense of temperature, only the seldom Bernoulli pull by other nets speeding by. You wonder how it smells since you have no nose to take a sniff. Time is not relevant here; you always find yourself arriving at your destination at the same time you left. Often, the only important thing is your sense of direction (of which, Osamu lacks) because the only thing guiding you is a huge ass ancient wooden compass floating in the space above you like a moon (so you feel like it's always following you).

 It's a trippy place.

 You collect yourself, taking control of the net to carry everyone to Kudo Street- which is situated up north. One push is all it takes for you to zoom through the crowd as the whizzing sound of air friction envelopes you. With awareness of the traffic around, you navigate your way carefully to avoid accidents (it gets super messy when disintegrated bodies collide).

 Travelling in the Pink Dimension after school is like walking at a train station during peak hour. Everyone moves at haste in whatever direction they want to. There is not much that can be done to control individuals in a vast space as such. The only rule that applies to travellers is that they have to teleport to and from stations. This is to prevent practitioners from reappearing at a dangerous spot in the  physical world when they arrive at their destinations. If you're found to be teleporting from or to an unassigned place, you'll get a ticket for it.

 You stay on your path while trying to search for Kudo Street's teleportation station that is supposed to be some floating Greek marble vases. You would say it only took you a few seconds to arrive but time doesn't exist here, so when you see ten vases at your two o'clock, you're pretty sure it doesn't matter anyway.

 You choose an Amphora vase that no one was going for and jump into its opening. It becomes dark for a moment before the vase vomits you, Atsumu and Osamu out onto a marble floor, in three pieces. Your brothers stumble a bit before finding their grounds again while you, on the other hand, are bowing down with hands on your knees, panting to catch your breath. You can feel sweat breaking on your forehead and temple.

 "Fuck, you two are SO heavy."

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A/N: where would you teleport to if you could since Ms. Corona is making all airlines bankrupt?

#Miya Atsumu #Miya Osamu #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader

[buckysbitch107]

Birthday Baking | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: It’s the first time Bucky is able to celebrate his birthday since 1944, and you really want to make his welcome back into a world of not-torture special. This results in a bit of a baking spree, but no one else is complaining.

Warnings: Swearing, Slightly Horny Bucky, Mentions of sexual activity, Nudity, Slight Panic Attack

Word Count: 2.17K

A/N: Hope you guys like this one! This will be a little bit longer than my last one, and it’s basically the same concept. Y/N is the reader, ~~~ is a time skip, blah blah blah. Hope you know the abbreviations, if not, here’s a website: https://www.wattpad.com/170188425-the-ultimate-guide-to-a-everything-fanfiction-x . Here’s the reference photo I used for the dress: https://www.jbydress.com/products/custom-made-long-sleeves-short-black-prom-dresses-short-black-long-sleeves-formal-evening-graduation-dresses?variant=14603203805226 . Hope you enjoy!

“What about that girl from counter-intelligence? What was her name? Amy? Amethyst?” Bucky speaks, opening the doors for the two of them as they return from their run around New York.

“Her name is Amanda, and she’s a lesbian.” Steve comments, punching in the access code for the elevator. Bucky shrugs as the two of them walk into the elevator, continuing their small conversation as it takes them to the main living area of the Avengers tower. The pair step out of the elevator, the strong scent of vanilla and chocolate immediately filling their noses. “What’s that smell?” Bucky listens to the banging in the kitchen and sighs.

“Oh no.”

“What?” Bucky strolls into the TV area, Steve following as the man confirms his theory. Most of the Avengers sit on the array of couches, silently munching on a plethora of sweets.

“Well if it isn’t America’s sweethearts!” Tony exclaims, standing up from his seat to walk over to Bucky. The two had previously “made up”, also known as agreeing not to kill each other. “Y’know, I have no idea what got into your girl, but she sure does know how to bake.” Bucky sighs once again and makes eye contact with Tony, a look that can only be described as ‘goddammit not again’ on his face.

“How many times has she run out of flour?” Bucky questions, honestly dreading the answer.

“Um three, why?”

“Oh dear lord.” The metal-armed man mutters, moving past Tony and Steve into the kitchen, the other supersoldier following. The two walk into the kitchen, finding every available counter space filled to the brim with either cakes, cupcakes, pies, other sweets, ingredients, or mixing bowls. And in the middle of all of it, is Y/N. Both Steve and Bucky’s focus goes to the woman standing with her back turned to them, an apron tied around her waist and her H/L pulled up into a messy bun. A timer goes off from somewhere and she rushes to turn it off, pulling what looks like a form of cheesecake out of the oven. “Doll?”

“Hmm?” Y/N hums, turning around to face the two men, a cinnamon roll sticking out of her mouth. Now facing the pair, they can see just how much baking she’s done. Her forehead is slightly sweaty, frosting all over her hands, face, and arms, more cake batter showing on her apron than cloth. Bucky walks over to her and tries to give her a hug, pouting when her semi-frosting covered hand pushes him away.

“What? I can’t get a hug from my best girl?”

“Not when you’re all hot and sweaty, and I’m covered in frosting and cake batter.” Bucky accepts defeat and strolls back over to Steve, the two watching her meticulous work for a few more moments before Bucky ushers for them to step out. They walk back into the TV area and Steve turns to his friend.

“Is she okay?” Steve asks, pointing back towards the kitchen.

“She stress bakes.” Bucky responds, his friend’s eyes widening.

“You think? There are enough sweets in that room to feed the 107th and 26th infantries combined. What could she be that stressed about?”

“I think it has something to do with my birthday.” A look of realization crosses over Steve’s face and he nods.

“You should go talk to her. Soon enough, we won’t have a place to put all of that.” Bucky nods before walking back into the kitchen, his girlfriend still in the almost exact same spot. He moves to stand next to her and she gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Hey, doll.”

“Hi.” She mutters, stirring the current batch of brownie mix with a lot of unnecessary force.

“What’s wrong, babygirl? You only bake this much when you’re stressed.” She shoots him a quick glare and he slightly backs off, knowing that messing with her would be a worse idea than pre-serum Steve trying to complete a triathlon (which he did try. once.) 

“Well, maybe it’s because I am stressed!” She exclaims, slamming her hands on the counter. Y/N looks at her boyfriend and sighs, wiping her hands on her apron before resting her head on his shoulder, taking a long and deep breath. “I just want everything to be perfect for your birthday.”

“But baby it doesn’t have to be. I’d be fine if it were just you and me.” Her head snaps up, her eyes wide in a mix of emotions.

“Nononono. It’s going to be your 100th birthday, which is big. It’s also your first birthday out of HYDRA, and I want it to be perfect! But your birthday is in two days and almost nothing is working out and I’m worried that it’s all gonna flop and-” Y/N rambles, her already wide E/C eyes growing even larger as she rambles on, her breathing becoming more and more shallow as she spirals herself into a pit of anxiety and panic. As she rambles, she pours the brownie batter into a pan and slides it in the oven.

“Hey, hey, hey. Listen to me.” Bucky pauses, using his pointer finger to lift her chin up, making sure she is making direct eye contact with him. “No matter what you plan, I’ll love it. You plan a huge birthday bash, I’ll be there with a big smile on my face. You plan a small dinner with just a few friends, it’ll be the best birthday ever. Because you’ll be there. Okay?” She nods, having calmed down from listening to her boyfriend’s words. Bucky leans forward, giving her a small kiss. “Now,” He pauses, pulling away from her, a small whine leaving her lips. “let’s get you cleaned up, your last batch of brownies shouldn’t be done for a while.” Y/N nods once again and lets Bucky lead her out of the kitchen and to the elevator. They get off and Bucky smiles at her.

“Go take a shower.” He whispers, giving her a small push towards their bathroom.

“But I want you to come with meeeeee.” She whines, a pout on her face as she makes grabby hands towards him.

“I’ll be in in a sec, okay?”

“Okay.”

~~~

“Hey Y/N!” Bucky calls, leaning his head back against the back of his seat, Y/N just barely appearing in his line of sight.

“Yes?”

“Would you be a doll and hand me another beer?” He asks, a cheeky grin on his face. She rolls her eyes before heading over to the fridge, weaving in between S.H.I.E.L.D agents and fellow Avengers to do so. Y/N grabs a beer from the top shelf before making her way back over to Bucky.

“Here you go.” She speaks, walking in front of him to hand him his drink. Bucky reaches up and grabs it before stopping his eyes trained on the tight and short black dress Y/N is wearing. The fabric hugs her body perfectly, the length and the neckline making him want to rip it off of her.

“My, my, my.” He whispers, a mischievous smirk on his face. Bucky looks up at her, Y/N noticing how the bright blue of his eyes has almost disappeared behind his pupils. “Ain’t you a dame that makes a man dizzy.” Y/N’s ears turn bright red, soon matching her face and part of her neck.

“Oh shush.” She whispers, letting out a small laugh.

“Come here babydoll.” Bucky mutters, holding out his arms as an invitation. Y/N smiles before walking over to Bucky and sitting down next to him. Her position quickly changes as Bucky pulls her onto his lap, her body situated perfectly on his thighs. His arms wrap around her waist, clasping together in front of her as he rests his head on her shoulder, occasionally kissing her neck. 

“Ew. Relationships.” Sam mumbles, making the woman across from him laugh.

“You just say ew because you don’t know what it feels like to be in one.” Bucky retorts, making Y/N laugh even harder.

“Boys, boy. Settle down. Please.” She requests, shooting a small smile at both of them. The two simply glare at each other for a couple minutes, Y/N turning her head the other way to talk to Nat. Bucky occasionally takes a sip of his beer, mainly keeping his lips on Y/N’s shoulder or neck. They stay like this for a while, Bucky striking up a conversation with Steve and Sam. Bucky’s hands slightly tighten around Y/N’s waist and he tilts his head up to whisper in her ear.

“Why don’t we head up to my room and you can give me that other present you were talking about?” He mumbles, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. Y/N rolls her eyes and shifts in his arms, turning so her upper body is facing him as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“Because it’s your birthday, silly. You haven’t opened your other presents, so why should I give you a special one early? Besides, it would be a little rude to leave your friends.” She responds, giving him a quick peck on the lips before removing his hands from her waist and standing up. “Now come on,” Y/N says, holding out her hand for him to grab. “It’s time for cake.” Sam helps her round everyone up, and soon enough she’s walking out of the kitchen with a cake in her hands.

“Make way people, masterpiece coming through.” Peter announces, walking in front of her and talking about the cake in Y/N’s arms. Bucky lets out a short laugh as the cake is placed in front of him, the dessert carves almost perfectly in the shape of a dinosaur. The icing on the cake reads ‘Congrats! You’re old!’ and Steve nearly spits out his drink as he reads it.

“The shape was Peter’s idea. He helped with the words too.” Y/N laughs, most of the people around her joining in. Bucky gives her a fake glare and she takes it seriously before a smile forms on his face and he starts laughing as well. Y/N lights the candles on the cake and they all sing happy birthday, a few of them not on key. Bucky blows out the candles and a few minutes later, everyone has a plate of cake in their hands.

~~~

“Thank you for doing all of this for me, Y/N.” Bucky whispers, standing next to his girlfriend with an arm wrapped around her waist.

“Of course! It’s your birthday and I wanted to make it special!” She responds, turning around so she can wrap her arms around his neck. He places his hands on her waist and pulls her into him, giving her a hug before stepping back after seeing Steve waiting beside them.

“Happy birthday pal.” Steve says, smiling at his best friend before pulling him into a hug. Bucky hugs back and they stay there for a few minutes, Steve smiling at him once again before heading up to his room for the night. Bucky and Y/N spend the next hour cleaning, putting the rest of the cake in the fridge, and recycling the many beer bottles littering the floor.

“So now can you give me that present?” Bucky asks, placing both of his hands on her waist. She smiles and stands on her toes, leaning up so her lips can reach his ear.

“You’re gonna have to unwrap it first.” She whispers, offering him a sly grin before turning towards the elevator, her hips slightly swaying. Bucky follows her figure with his eyes, and that’s when he notices the bow connected to the zipper on the back of her dress, the bow that looks a lot like the one on her present to him from earlier. A small grin forms on his face, and he follows her, deciding he wants to unwrap his present now.

~~~

 “Happy Birthday Buck.” Y/N mumbles, nuzzling her face into Bucky’s neck, the man letting out a soft chuckle.

“Thanks, babygirl.” They lay like that for a few minutes before they hear muffled yelling and Y/N shoots up after recognizing the voice as Tony

“Oh shit. I think we left your pants in the elevator.” A loud laugh erupts from Bucky’s chest, the man only thinking of the look on Tony’s face.

“If he murdered us right now, how much would the forensics team see when they walked in?”

“For me, probably some of my boobs, my back, and part of my ass. For you, pretty much everything.” She responds, resting her head back against his shoulder.

“Y’know, we have a few more minutes before he could possibly get up here and pick the lock on the door.” Bucky suggests, already moving his hand under the covers.

“What? You want more of your present?” Y/N asks, already knowing the answer.

“I think I deserve it, since it is my birthday.”

Permanent Tags: @wintersoldierslut​ @breakmy-bedbarnes @stuckys-hot-dogs​ @andreasworlsboring101​

Just a reminder that all requests are open! I will be creating a masterlist either today or tomorrow so you guys know who I specialize in, but really I do anyone y’all request. As I’ve mentioned, nothing is too fluffy, angsty, smutty, or gorey for me. I mainly write Marvel and its characters/actors. I can also write some characters from other things, you just have to ask! Also please let me know if you want to be a part of the Permanent Tags! But please, for now,

Call me Emily

#bucky barnes #marvel #x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #birthday #fluff

[archaic-medico]

Snapped: Part 1 - Corruption

The faint sounds of waves crashing on the beach could be heard as the sound of singing and a guitar filled the air. Nearby was a blue and white checker board blanket covered with flowers, a picnic basket, juice boxes, jam jars and a cake box. On a nearby rock, Steven was nearing the end of his song as Connie watched on with joy as this is one of the loveliest things Steven had done for her, and considering all the college prep work she had been doing lately, they haven’t been spending much time together.

“I'd rather be me, with you...,” Steven sang as he sat his guitar down and jumped down from the rock.

“Steven, that song was amaz. Uh, what are you doing,” Connie asked, as Steven dropped to one knee.

“Connie, will you marry me,” Steven asked, pulling a glow stick bracelet, the thing that brought them together in the first place, out of a pocket from inside his jacket.

“What,” was all Connie could say as she was totally caught off guard by Steven’s proposal.

“I know you might think that I'm being romantic, but this makes perfect sense! For example, I don't know what you've been studying or doing, but Stevonnie would! We can go to college together and live the rest of our live together, like Garnet,” Steven rambled as his right eye started twitching a little because of how nervous he was.

“Steven, look, I really like being Stevonnie with you but I need to be my own person too. Just because Ruby and Sapphire have been doing it for thousands of years, doesn’t mean we should. Plus, we’re really young. This doesn’t change how I feel about you Steven, but it’s going to be a no,” Connie replied, hugging Steven tightly. Steven was sad that Connie had said no, he was assured by Ruby and Sapphire that this would work, but it didn’t and he didn’t know what to do. This was supposed to be a happy moment, but now it was a sad moment. His best friend had just rejected his feeling of love towards her. She could have said yes and they could have waited till they were older, but she flat out refused the offer. It wasn’t Steven’s fault tonight failed; it was Connie’s fault. This was supposed to be the most perfect night ever and she ruined it by rejecting him. The more he stood there thinking about it, the angrier he got. Steven then felt Connie release her hug as her alarm went off, signaling that her study break was over.

“Look, Steven, I need to get back to studying. I'll call you tomorrow at lunchtime and we can talk this over then,” Connie said, giving him a kiss on the cheek, before heading towards Lion. Steven there unfazed by the kiss as he could feel his anger continue to boil as Connie just walked away.

“NO,” Steven screamed, as he turned pink while stomping his foot on the sand, creating an energy wave that formed a small crater. In the process of doing this, he had destroyed the guitar and all of the picnic supplies. Connie fell over as the wave hit her, right as she was about to hop on Lion.

“WE’RE NOT GOING TO WAIT TILL TOMORROW. WE’RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT THIS RIGHT FUCKING NOW,” Steven shouted, as part of his head swelled and quickly deflated.

“Steven, what the hell is your,” Connie began to say as she got up and turned around, but quickly stopped as she saw Steven was swollen and glowing pink.

“Steven are you okay, your swelling and glowing pink,” Connie asked.

“THAT DOESN’T MATTER RIGHT NOW. WHAT MATTERS IS YOU THAT I OFFERED YOU MY HEART AND YOU REJECTED IT,” Steven shouted, clutching his head in agony as his body doubled in size then quickly returned to normal.

“Steven, please, can we talk about the marriage thing another time, I really think we need to get you to a hospital,” Connie pleaded again in hopes that Steven would go checked out.

“NO, NOW QUIT TRYING TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT,” Steven screamed as his right arm swelled as he punched the ground just inches from where Connie was standing. Steven started glowing brighter the angrier he got as the size of his body started changing at a more rapid pace. His eyes started turning pink with diamond pupils and back to normal in rapid succession. He was now starting to see butterflies surround him in masses. About that time Garnet came running around the corner.

“Oh no, I’m too late,” Garnet said with a shocked look on her face as she approached Connie and Steven.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE TOO LATE,” Steven shouted snapping around to face Garnet, glowing even brighter.

“I saw that this would happen. I saw that Ruby and Sapphire would encourage you to propose to Connie in every possible future, but also in 90% of the futures that I saw, Connie would reject your proposal,” Garnet explained as she walked towards Steven.

“YOU KNEW THAT SHE WOULD FUCKING REJECT ME AND YOU DIDN’T TRY TO STOP ME. THEN YOU’RE JUST AS GUILTY IN MY PAIN AND ANGER AS CONNIE FUCKING IS,” Steven screamed, the changes to his body size started picking up pace again.

“Steven you need to calm down and control your anger. Even if I had tried to stop you, there wasn’t a future where you didn’t propose to Connie, I’m sorry but this was inevitable,” Garnet said as she got closer.

Steven dropped to his knees while clutching his head as the pain grew stronger and he started glowing even brighter. He looking straight ahead when his vision began to fill with nothing but butterflies flying around him. He then felt something snap in his brain as he started laughing as the butterflies began flying faster and faster. Connie and Garnet start to slowly approached him, as his laugh grew more sinister. He then looks up towards the sky, laughing like a mad man, when suddenly the butterflies stopped and flew towards Steven, covering his whole body. Steven then let out a massive scream causing a strong wave of energy and sand to shoot out, knocking Connie and Garnet down and sent Lion flying towards the Ocean.

When the dust had settled, Connie and Garnet looked in horror as Steven’s form had changed. He was now standing up again and he was the same height as Garnet but with a body build that looked like Jasper’s. There was pink colored electricity sparking in the air around him. His hair was now longer and shaggier looking and his eyes were now pink with diamonds for pupils. His gem was no longer in the position of Rose Quartz as it had rotated back to that of Pink Diamond’s location. His clothes had changed as well, he was now wearing an outfit like Pink’s diamond outfit but more masculine. He now had on knee high black boots, pants that were a red violet color with hot pink diamond knee pads, with a chest piece that was rose in color, shoulder pads that were black and a pink midsection piece with a diamond shape cut out around his gem, and a red colored cape that was draped behind him to the his ankles that was wrapped around his neck.

“Stev..Steven,” Connie gasped, seeing the changes that had just happened. Steven didn’t even bother answering or looking at Connie as he looked up at the light house, raising a hand and firing a bubble, obliterating the light house. Connie and Garnet both watched in horror as a body fell within the rubble.

“Hahaha, this is wonderful. This power is amazing,” Steven said, as he laughed and created a hexagonal plate and fired it at a ship in the ocean causing it to explode on impact.

“STEVEN, STOP THIS RIGHT NOW,” Garnet shouted as she summoned her gauntlets. Steven quickly disappeared then reappeared right in front of Garnet, upper cutting her into the air. He then disappeared and reappeared above her, punching her back towards the ground, causing a crater to form on the beach. He slowly floated back down to the ground where Garnet was and grabbed ahold of both of her hands.

“You’re telling me to stop and yet you knew my marriage proposal was going to fail and didn’t try to prevent that at all. YOU COULD HAVE AT LEAST ATTEMPTED TO STOP ME FROM GOING THROUGH WITH IT, BUT INSTEAD YOU DIDN’T AND NOW YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOUR PUNISHMENT FOR NOT,” Steven screamed as he started squeezing Garnet’s hands tighter, sparks of pink energy snapping around them as he shattered her gauntlets.

“Steven, please don’t do this. You won’t be able to return from this,” Garnet pleaded as her form started to glitch out as Steven squeezed harder.

“You’re right, there is no coming back, I don’t want to come back from this, the old Steven is dead,” Steven said as he started to crack Ruby and Sapphire’s gem.

“Farewell Garnet,” Steven calmly said as he shattered Ruby’s gem. Connie screamed in horror as she heard the shattering and saw Garnet defuse to just Sapphire and as Connie backed away towards the Beach House, she saw and the same thing happen to Sapphire.

Steven laughed maniacally as he looked at the shattered remains of Ruby and Sapphire in his hands. Steven was in love with this new power and he wanted more, scratch that he needed more. He began to look for Connie, when he saw her running into the Beach House.

“AMETHYST, PEARL, HELP,” Connie cried out as she entered into the house.

“Connie, what’s wrong,” Amethyst and Pearl cried out as they exited their rooms in the temple, having heard the commotion going on out.

“Steven’s gone insane. His look has changed and he, he, he…” Connie started to cry as the vision of Ruby and Sapphire demise played in her head again.

“HE WHAT, CONNIE,” Amethyst and Pearl screamed.

“He sha…tterd Ruby and Sapphire,” Connie said bursting into tears.

“HE DID WHAT,” Amethyst and Pearl shouted as Steven appeared behind them from thin air, causing Amethyst, Connie, and Pearl to jump back.

“I sure did, I crushed their gems in to tiny pieces,” Steven said as Amethyst and Pearl looked at him in horror as he dropped the broken shards of Ruby and Sapphire on the floor.

“Steven, how, how could you,” Pearl asked in a state of disbelief.

“Like this,” Steven said as he reached out and quickly grabbed Amethyst by the gem before she could even react. Pearl ran towards Steven as she summoned her spear, only the be swatted away by Steven.

“Steven, please don’t this. Whatever is going on with you, let us help you with it,” Amethyst pleaded as she tried to free herself, as Steven lifted her above his head.

“You all had a chance to help me but you ignored it. Me trapping my friends in a dome and nearly crushing them, quitting Little Homeschool, and not wanting to talk after Cactus Steven destroyed the house all should have been red flags but you all never pushed me to open up. You, Pearl, Dad, Connie, The Diamonds and Spinel are all responsible for this,” Steven spat, squeezing harder causing Amethyst started to glitch out. Amethyst began to cry as the pain got worse and worse.

Pearl watched as Steven continued to squeeze Amethyst’s gem until it shattered and Amethyst vanished. Steven turned to Pearl dropping the shards of Amethyst’s gem with Ruby and Sapphire’s gem. Pearl attempted to take this moment while his guard was down to attempt an attack on Steven again, but before she could strike him, he raised his arm and trapped bubble her.

“Pearl, always so feisty, I like that about you. So, I’ll give you two options instead of me turning you into dust. Option number one is you return to being a servant Pearl willingly or option number two is I take you to The Reef and I can rejuvenate you, your choice. Oh, and the timer starts now,” Steven said as the bubble around Pearl started shrinking as Pearl began poking the bubble with her spear.

“Choose quickly Pearl, times running out,” Steven said after thirty seconds. Pearl was still trying to pop the bubble as it shrunk around her. Seeing that it was going to be impossible to know, she responded they why Steven hoped she would.

“I’d rather be rejuvenated then willingly serve someone despicable as you,” Pearl defiantly said as she flipped Steven off.

“Aww Pearl, that would have hurt my feeling if I still had any feelings left. But hey that means I get to rejuvenate you the fun way,” Steven said chuckling. The bubble started to glow bright, then there was a bright flash in the interior of the bubble, leaving only Pearl’s gem left in the bubble. Connie had been watching as Steven had shattered someone who had basically been his sister and poofed the closes thing he had to a mother. After poofing Pearl, Steven turned and walked over to Connie.

“I’ll be back to deal with you later,” Steven said, before disappearing into thin air.

#EVIL STEVEN #steven universe #corruption #corrupted steven #steven universe au #diamond steven #alternate universe #steven universe alternate universe #connie mahaswaren #snapped #Chapter 1