#and then someone on here says something kind and it makes a world of a difference

[wren-kitchens]

so shiver, but shiver with a friend

1034 words

the boat is creaking. that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running. but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so. 

this fic exists for two reasons, which are stiff stiffyck's love for qpr elven duo (gem and scar) and also me overthinking scar's wheelchair worldbuilding in the hermitcraft world

this could be a lot better but alas I have been consumed by depression writers block, so honestly i'm just proud this ended up as a finished fic

btw this is one of my first times writing wheelchairs, and whilst it is fantasy so things are gonna be a little different, I would appreciate if someone could tell me if I did something wrong/insensitively!

the boat is creaking.

that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running.

but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so.

anyway, all of this to say that gem is pretty sure someone is on her boat at the middle of the night for what she deeply hopes are not nefarious reasons. although, she cannot think of any reason someone would be sneaking onto her boat at two in the morning—nefarious or otherwise. maybe it's grian trying to lag some things out of her chests? but why on earth he wouldn't do that in the day when she wasn't on board, gem has no clue.

there's a new noise now, one that suggests against the idea of nefarious deeds, but only confuses gem more: a kind of squeaking, like a rubber ring being taken off, or an air mattress being slept on. okay, that doesn’t rule anything out at all, and only serves to make everything far more complicated. who is bringing a rubber something onto her boat at 2am? what is happening here?

overtaken by an amounting curiosity to whatever the hell is actually going on, gem climbs out of bed and pads softly along the floorboards in her slippers to her door. she regrets not installing one of those peepholes, because now she actually has to engage with the something that's happening outside in order to investigate. gem is sure there isn’t anything especially dangerous that could be going on, but she pulls out her sword preemptively as she opens the door slowly to find-

to find..

well, she's not sure what she's found.

"gem!" says a cheery scar, who is. on her boat? how is he on her boat- he uses a wheelchair, and the boat is in the middle of the river.

except- no, hang on, his wheelchair seems to be completely lacking wheels, which gem would argue is the main point of a wheelchair. where the wheels should otherwise be, there are floatation devices—seemingly rubber, which explains the noises gem was hearing earlier—in patented hotguy colours, so she assumes that's intentional. okay, that's- that sure is something.

"you-" gem scrambles for any words to express how bizarre this situation is and fails miserably. "you’re on my boat." is all she manages. void, it is way too late (early?) to be trying to figure this out.

"I am on your boat!" scar says, looking rather proud of himself. it's kind of sweet, to be fair—even as it only adds to the crazy situation. "y’know, I didn't think i’d actually manage it. last time I tried, I sunk."

gem blinks, giving up on making sense of the situation now and letting herself just go with the bizarre. "yeah, I can imagine why scar." she gestures at the rubber wheels (they look a bit like wheels, anyway). "how did you get those?"

"cub helped me!" scar smiles, as if this was a normal conversation to be having. does he even realise how strange this situation is, or is this just normal for him now? "see- you know how my chair has an elytra mode?"

"uh huh."

"well, now it has a swimming mode!" scar says, and he clicks a button on the underside of the seat. within an instant, the floatation devices deflate, replaced swiftly by the regular wheels. "ta da!"

"that- I mean, that's very cool." gem says, and she means it, despite how unenthusiastic she knows she must sound. in her defence, it is the middle of the night. "I just- why are you here?"

something changes in scar's expression immediately, and gem panics a little until scar says meekly, "it- okay, well. now it sounds silly."

gem snorts. "because showing off your inflatable wheelchair at two in the morning is normal?" she tilts her head, and her voice is fond when she says, "you know you can tell me anything, right?"

a smile tugs at the corners of scar's lips, and gem feels something warm in her chest to see it. "I know, I know." he hesitates for a second, before giving a huff of exasperation. "I wanted a hug." scar admits, glancing at the floor.

"wh- scar." gem finds herself beginning to smile. "do you really think I would ever turn down a hug from you?"

scars grin is almost shy as he opens his arms, and gem practically falls into them, burying her face in his jacket. man, she has missed hugs from scar; she loves the way they fit together so well, like pieces of a puzzle, perfectly matched to one another. there are very few places where gem feels entirely at home—she's been pretty much everywhere, so she knows what home feels like—and scar is closer to home than any place has ever felt to her.

before she knows it, scar has scooted forward just enough to unbalance her, and she lands on top of him. gem scoffs playfully as scar laughs to himself, holding her closer.

"I can't hug you properly if you’re stood up, y’know." scar mumbles into her hair.

gem rolls her eyes, fond as anything. "well, i’m not complaining." she's quiet for a moment, letting herself appreciate the moment—breathing it all in. "I love you." gem murmurs.

scar squeezes her, and gem can almost hear his smile when he says, "I love you too."

#hermitfic #wren writes #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #geminitay #hermitcraft #please don't tag as ship <3 #elven duo #hermitblr #I can’t figure out any more tags tell me if I need something else GKDHS

[cosmos-coma]

Glass Desks

A/N: Just a silly little scene I've had in my head for bit now since I work as an occasional house cleaner to try and get by. I got surprised by someone coming in on my last clean and just had to turn it into something.

Pairing: Mafia! Bucky Barnes x House Cleaner! Reader

Words: 1,055

Bucky Masterlist

Buy me a Coffee?

___________________

A sigh escaped Bucky as he ran a hand down his face. He was supposed to have meetings all day today- ones important enough that he’d rearranged everything around them- yet within the first two hours something had already come up and his associates were forced to reschedule.

“Hey, boss? We’re here…” Sam said from the driver’s seat, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him look up at the large empty house before him.

His empty house.

He wouldn’t trade his line of work for the world, truly, but between both the secretive and potentially violent nature of his job, it didn’t exactly leave much room for pleasant company. 

He sighed again as he stepped out, “Thanks Sam…. That should be all for today, but I’ll call if I need you.” He said and patted the roof twice before it pulled away. 

Making his way up the stairs toward the entrance, all seemed normal at first glance- that is until he spotted an unfamiliar car parked around the side. 

It was an old car, parked out of the way in the shade- not quite a beater- but they definitely didn’t make its model anymore. It was non-descript and would blend in with a crowd if needed, but more importantly: it wasn’t one of his. 

He moved toward the door with far quieter steps now, listening intently for the intruders. Multiple voices came from inside as if trying to talk over each other in layered tones. Chairs and doors clunked and creaked as they were moved about, followed by the moving voices- were people searching for something? 

Instinctively his hand found the gun in his jacket. ‘Sam didn’t say anything as he left… Did he really not notice the car? No-Sam was one of his best men… Maybe he already knew they were here..?’ Bucky thought.

Either way, he wasn’t taking any chances; his fingers closed around the gun’s handle as he cracked open the door, the weapon a comfortable and familiar weight in his hand. His steps were silent as he entered, their practiced paces unknown to anyone but him. 

However, instead of finding an enemy gang searching for secrets he found…. You. 

You were hard at work in your own little world as you went about cleaning the second floor. You bobbed and sang along to the music emanating from your back pocket, your voice layering over the original as the rags half tucked in your belt swayed with you. The mobster couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

He had completely forgotten. Usually, on days when he was meant to be out of the house for hours on end, you would be scheduled to come clean. But apparently, no one had informed you about the change of plans.

You had been hired on as his house cleaner a few months ago, helping him keep things together while work kept him endlessly busy. But despite having been on the payroll for a while now, he still hadn’t found the time to officially meet you- that is, until now.

He couldn’t deny that you looked… rather silly if he was being honest, but your unparalleled passion only made it all the more endearing. His head shook with a faint smile as he watched as you moved into his office. Shutting the door behind him with a soft click, he was halfway up the second-floor stairs when he heard you suddenly break away from your song. 

“Ugh…,” you sighed loudly to yourself, still thinking you were the only one in the room, “what kind of an asshole has a glass desk? I mean, really- Do you have stock in Windex? Is that what it is???” You asked snarkily to no one in particular, but this was too good for Bucky to pass up.

“Not yet. Should I?” The mobster found himself biting back his laughter as he leaned against the office doorway behind you. 

“At this rate? You should really-“Your mouth clamped shut faster than it ever had before, your entire body freezing on the spot as his response finally processed. Your eyes were wide as saucers as your thoughts ran on a panicked loop ‘Oh no, oh god, oh shit, oh fuck. you really just had to insult the infamous White Wolf of New York… In his own home… In front of his own men… Are you STUPID??’ you yelled at yourself internally and quickly put on a brave face, turning off your music and turning to the unfamiliar voice behind you.

Your stomach nearly dropped as you realized it was not only “one of his men” it was, THE man. You instantly recognized him from the few photos scattered around the house; the sharp stubbly jaw and blazing blue eyes were unmistakable, not to mention the hint of the metallic arm you caught between his suit sleeve and glove. You couldn’t deny he was handsome- even more so in person than he was in his photos.

“Mr. Barnes…!” Your voice squeaked out, but he just held his same amused smile, looking anything but upset. “I, uh… I thought you had meetings all day today- I didn’t mix up the date, did I..?”

“Not at all…” he said with a quiet laugh. “My meetings got rescheduled part way though, so I thought I’d spend the evening working from home. Little did I know it’d be the perfect place to get financial advice too.” 

Your face burned with embarrassment as you relived the very recent moment yet again, “Right, uh, about the whole ‘asshole’ thing, I-” 

But he simply waved you off, “Don’t. It’s refreshing to get an authentic opinion, and honestly? I don’t even like that desk.” He admitted, his heart stirring in new ways as your whole body relaxed and he could finally see you as you usually were, “and, ah… if you wanted to stay for a while, I sure wouldn’t mind the company- I could use a little advice in the stock market.”

You bit your lip to hold back your grin, you wouldn’t get too ahead of yourself, “Oh, me? I don’t know if I’d really be suitable company while I’m cleaning.” 

A thought seemed to pass over him then as he nodded in agreement, “Hm, you’re right..” he smiled, “Perhaps we should just have dinner then… how’s tonight?”

______

General Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @goldylions

If I missed or accidentally tagged you lmk! Wanna be added General Bucky taglist? Please ask/DM me!

#I want to do more mafia bucky eventually but it probably won’t follow the same characters #same reader I mean #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mob au #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #James

[geeks-universe]

Thanks to the lovely anon, here’s another sneak peak of the one shot that’s actually gonna be two lol (keep in mind this is still a work in progress and will likely be edited before posting)

Cooper Howard was deep in thought the first time he met you.

He’d been sitting on a park bench, mentally running over some of his lines for what could’ve been hours before he realized someone was now occupying the spot beside him.

It was a woman.

A pretty one.

A sad one.

Ever the gentleman, he cleared his throat, cautiously asking, “Everything alright?”

The look you gave him was a tired one, shoulders weighed down with a weight he didn’t know of. You chewed on your lip- a habit, if the way you did it unconsciously told him anything.

His eyes threatened to follow, but he refused to let them. He was an honorable man, and a loyal one. The strain is his marriage would pass, and he wouldn’t be the one to throw it away for a pretty face.

A very tantalizing, pretty face.

“If you knew the world was going to end, and there was absolutely nothing you could do to stop it, what would you do?”

He was surprised by the question, concerned even, with the state of the world. The way you asked it was so melancholy, a fact as true as the clouds in the sky.

A beat passed as he tried best to formulate an answer, your eyes trained on the park in front of you once more. It was a nice day, the kind where a calm breeze didn’t make you shiver, but the air was just as fine without one.

Peaceful, he’d say.

Not the kind where doomsday propositions were answered, but he couldn’t refuse your question- not when you gazed at him sideways, like you didn’t expect him to have an answer.

“I’d try anyways.”

You blew out a breath, nodding visibly as if his words had solidified a conversation you were having with yourself. The tenseness in your shoulders lessened, and the beginnings of a smile pulled at your lips.

“You’re the hero type, then?”

He breathed a laugh, shrugging in an almost humble manner.

“I just play one in the movies.”

The surprise on your face was evident. Clearly, you had no idea who he was. It wasn’t unheard of, but his reputation had blown up, so he hadn’t expected it.

Actor of the Century, indeed.

You hummed, a light sound that matched the birds chirping in the trees above.

“What movies?”

He raised a brow, smiling a bit at the interest on your face. You were leaning back on the bench now, arms crossed over your chest. His first assessment of you had been military, maybe.

You weren’t in frilly skirts or a smart pantsuit that frequented the local areas. Instead, you were in tight fitting black jeans and a leather jacket that looked like it’d seen better days, an armor of sorts to the outside world. Your hair was pulled back in an elaborate braid, strands framing your face like they’d fallen out on their own.

Without the forlorn expression though, you looked too young to be some grizzled general. There was something in your eyes, a camaraderie between two people who had seen some shit, but you hadn’t yet lost that youthful radiance.

“Why don’t you figure that one out,” he teased, a winning smile reaching his eyes.

“Alright, stranger,” you laughed, jumping to your feet.

The breeze blew your scent over him- honey and peaches and all the comforts of home. It was intoxicating, and he was reminded once again why continuing this conversation was dangerous.

“Next time I see you, I expect an autograph.”

He didn’t even have time to say a proper goodbye before you were walking away, newfound confidence in your gait.

The strange interaction stayed with him for the rest of the week.

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout x reader #fallout reader insert #cooper howard insert

[jujutsukgojo]

My gifts to you

feitan portor x reader

Summary: You knew him for years for only moments at a time. Yet, you take it upon yourself to love and mourn him anyway, even when the world won't. tw: light smut, slight yandere feitan, spoilers, mentions of murder, light angst, fluff(?), injuries, cheating, time skips an: didn't mean for it to be this long. Feitan is a bit tricky for me but oh well :) kind of inspired by criminal minds 'no way out'. 10.8k

“If you tie it like this, it should stay, okay?” You tap the boy’s foot. Although he is smaller than you in height, his feet are bigger. It’s quite comical but you don’t dare laugh. In this blasted city, you’d be bound to die for such a thing. Especially if you laugh at someone with crazy hair and carries a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.  

  He says something in a foreign language that you can’t understand. If you are correct, it may be inverted Japanese. In the books that one kid collects, there is a country, Japan, where the common language originates. Since the common language isn’t his mother tongue, it makes you wonder where he’s from and why he’s here. 

  The boy stands up to his full, but short, height. You sit on random rubble and look up at him, waiting for what he’ll do next. Will he call over Phinks or even bring Uvogin? He hangs out with Phinks mainly but who knows these days. 

   Instead of swinging the bat at you or calling over his friends, he pats your head awkwardly. You don’t make any sudden movements or noises. The boy leaves right after. A sigh escapes your lips after he leaves you behind.  

   What's his name again? Feitain? 

__________

  In your hut, you slightly stir the food that sizzles in the pan you found. It’s rare to come across tomatoes and eggs but you managed this time. The smell is mouth watering. You hope no one else can smell it. 

As much as you want to live elsewhere, this is what you settle for at the moment. In another world, you’d be out of this city and somewhere clean and safe. Like the church or something. No, even better than the church. You’ve heard of the outside where there are bright flashing lights and diamonds and pearls on people’s necks. There are flowers of all colors out there. Different shapes, smells, and meanings, they’re all beautiful. You hear that food isn’t scavenged but bought or given to people without a price.  

   People said they’ve seen the safety of children your age that play without a care. There are parents for the lost kids and doctors for the injured. Clean clothes and showers on the regular. You can even see the sun clearly and the big, round moon that doesn't bring out the wolves in men. 

There are pastors and priests that don’t turn people away, either. Hell, you have even wondered if there were schools there that allow everyone to get in. You're sure that you are reading and doing math wrong. How embarrassing.  

Finally done, you place the food on a plastic plate you found. You made sure to wipe the grime off the plate and rinsed it with clean water before using it. Even though you can just eat out of the pan, you want to seem sophisticated like the outside. They don't eat out of pans or use dirty plates. 

  The food steams and is welcoming. Without a lot of utensils, you pick at it with your hands. It burns at first but you’re too hungry. The flavor bursts in your mouth. Even without the proper seasonings, it’s still heaven. You haven’t eaten in a while so you’ll take what you can get.  

   Suddenly, the boy, Feitan, enters your hut. You gasp and protectively cover your food. He brings his foot out. His shoe, which he stole, is untied again. You swallow the substance and point out, “I taught you how to tie them.” 

“Tie.” 

“I taught you.” You set your plate down.  

“Tie.” You roll your eyes and pat your thighs. He walks over to you and places his dirt caked shoe on your lap. Slowly, you tie them.  

“There, see? Come on now, you need to learn. A little boy can’t grow without tying his shoes.” 

“I’m not little boy.” You give a breathy chuckle. “Of course you are, honey.” 

  He leans in close to your face. “I’m older than you.”  

...He does hang out with Phinks, who is a couple years older than you. In fact, it is rare to see them apart. Is it possible that it’s true? Is Phinks the type to be friends with someone who is younger?

 Curious, you ask, “Then why are you so short?” His eyes widened in shock. Then, strangely, he laughs while patting your head harshly. Studying his face revealed what looks like the beginning of a sinister smile.

  He looks at your plate and sits down in front of you. You’re both on the dirt floor. 

 “Give me.” You scoff and snap at him. “No! Find your own!” 

The little beast decided that the two of you should ‘share’. He smacks on his food, making you want to punch him repeatedly. He’s gaunt and bony, but not really bad like last time. His face has a tiny bit of roundness to it. 

  “Stop staring.” He inhales a tomato. “You look better than last time.”

“Better?” He cocks his head to the side. The remnants of the tomato smeared a little on his cheek.

“Yeah, healthier.” He stares at you for a second. “Thanks.” His accent is thick, and you still can’t place it. Nevertheless, you understand. Afterwards, much to your surprise, he sleeps in your hut now that his belly is full. Satisfied and strangely not afraid, you follow suit. It’s nice to have a friend, however strange.

You are barely awake, sleep still heavy in your eyes, when you see him pop up. Drool is crusted on his cheek, and he rubs his eyes. He yawns and then spots you next to him. Feitan eyes the entry of the hut then back at you. He puts the only cover you have on you then pets your head. 

  Before he leaves, he places his bat in your hand. Feitan secures the entry as he exits the hut. 

_____________

  It’s been years since you and Feitan have talked. You've gotten familiar with him but when Sarasa had died in such a disrespectful and gruesome way, he withdrew. In the meantime, you waited for him and studied a power you discovered. No matter the eyes that were always on you, you didn’t care about the mysterious and hidden audience. 

  You don’t know what it’s called but it started when you witnessed some kid about to get her ass handed to her by some thugs. The man had moved a pair of scissors without using his hands. They aimed right towards her and in a moment of instinct, you rushed to push her out of the way. Unfortunately, the scissors stabbed you in the shoulder.  

  It was then did you feel the rush of a force so strong, that it knocked everyone away from you. A faint white light that glowed from your skin that only your eyes could see. As you looked around in shock, you saw that same glow coming from that man and his friends. 

  You were gasping when you fell to your knees. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t be here!” The girl your age ran for her life and left you behind. In a moment of fear, you call out to her to help you. You were so afraid; you couldn't tell if the screams were hers or yours. Given the situation, you were too rattled, terrified and hurt, to focus.

The men shook for a second then got up to face you. The blood from your shoulder wasn’t stopping its flow. Crimson red stained your clothes and the ground. It was all so strange, such an unusual feeling of adrenaline that you couldn’t help but memorize. Almost as if the world had finally made sense. Every single thing became so much clearer to your dismay.  

  The men came towards you with malicious intent. While putting pressure on your injury, you managed to kick one of their legs, causing them to buckle and hurt his knee. He screamed in agony. 

  “G-get away!” You try to stand. The press of your hand on the wound isn’t helping. Is it supposed to bleed this much? It hit your shoulder, but did it nick something?  

  You need to stop it, to heal and get away from them. In this city, people like you are in danger from men like them. If you don’t get away, you’ll end up like Sarasa. She was never really close to you. She was a nice girl who always looked for video tapes, so you'd help her from time to time. Yet, her death scarred everyone since it was so close to home. And now, you no doubt are facing the exact same situation. Wrong place, wrong time.  

   Same fate.  

You fell back on the ground and looked at the sky. It has always been so dirty, just like the city due to pollution. Still so young, you know you won’t see what it really looks like. In the corner of your eye, you spot something green. A small clover with four leaves. 

  One time, an old man told a story of how four-leaf clovers are a sign of good luck. By the intense feeling and pressure of your eyes, you know it’s not true. Pain in all ways makes tears fall from your eyes. Lips wobbling at how unfair everything is and that you will never see the sun. The outside must really be heaven, and for someone so young who hasn’t committed a sin, you are wondering if you can go.

  Suddenly, flowers that you never knew blossomed around you. The soft petals touched your filthy skin and got rid of the aches. The blood on your shoulder faded from view as well as the pain. A soft and beautiful hum whispered in your ear. You truly believed it to be in your head, an imagination of paradise as you leave. Heaven, they call it. You must be close to the outside world then. 

  This must be it, you thought. There was no pain from a strike or fear. Just closed eyes and peace. Something you know you couldn’t get in the atrocious city.  

It ends. You were shocked as the beautiful flowers disappeared. Heaven, would you reject someone? 

  The men didn’t hurt you. The one whose knee was broken was able to move his leg. His red hair kind of glowed in the sun, and brown eyes were wide. He muttered a soft ‘thank you’ and walked away without a limp. His friends followed.  

   After that, you had realized that your ability wasn’t anything like scissors or something scary. It was to heal and be healed.

Although after immediately learning this, you didn't go out of your way to find the source of the screams in the direction the people went. First was the girl, then the group of men. After what you went through, it didn't seem like a good idea. 

 Feitan, somehow, got wind of it. Now in his later teen years you both estimate, he sits still and points to his arm. There’s a gnarly gash oozing blood. You wonder how he’s not feeling this and if he is, how he isn’t even fazed.  

  You gently pick up his arm and inspect it. He's thin but has clear definition in his arms. You haven’t seen him in so long that you are surprised by his growth. Hell, he’s taller now. Still short, but at least he grew.  

  In a jar, you take a premade petal. This is a way for you to save energy and reach people when you physically can’t tend to. Acting as a pill, you make sure that people can get infections out. For some reason, illnesses and infections are particularly tricky and tiring for you.  

  “Eat this, Feitan.” He frowns. “No.” You sigh. “It’s infected. You need to eat this so I can heal it right.” 

  “It’s not.”   

Rolling your eyes you bring his wound to his face. “This, this is infected. It's literally oozing pus.” How long did this go on? Was he really that hesitant to just come and see you?

  He growls and takes the delicate petal and places it in his mouth. “Stop pouting.”  

“Not pouting. It’s nasty.” He’s not wrong. It has a bitter taste and when chewed, a slimy texture. The color of the disintegrating petal leaves a stain in the mouth as well. If not for the benefits, no one would even bother. They'd be just as offended as Feitan.  

  The pus stops and clears up. “Alright, this’ll leave a scar.”  

You blow on your hand so that flowing blossoms surround him. Beautiful shades of pink and white go through his hair. With a gentle caress, you see the flurries touch his wound. It starts to encourage his own healing.  

  As much as you want to do the full thing, you’re tired. All day you’ve been working and collecting payments. Not to mention facing the disappointment of them being useless. You want to kick yourself for not getting paid first. But the sight of those grateful people and healed kids softens your heart.  

  Soon, it stops once the injury becomes manageable. You’re about to wrap it when a hand stops you. “What’s this?”  

  “Feitan, I'm tired. You caught me at a bad time.” You try to move your hand but he stops you. He's a lot stronger than you remember. “Heal.” 

His fluency isn’t the greatest still.  

“I’m tired! Just let it heal the rest of the way.” No matter how much you try to yank your hand away, his grip is too strong. “Please, Feitan...”  

  Surprisingly, he lets go and from what you can see, the subtle white glow appears and heals him the rest of the way, leaving small flames. “Feitan...what was that?” 

  He rolls his eyes and plops down on a chair. He says nothing and just relaxes, or at least that’s what he’s trying to make it seem like. It has been a while since you’ve seen him, but that doesn’t make you blind to his behaviors…sometimes. 

   “As a transmuter, I can heal a little by using enhancer,” He looks at you suspiciously. “You know nothing about nen?”

“Nen?” You put the gauze and other items in a black bag. It was found in the safe zone by the church. Apparently, it belonged to a doctor from the outside. The bag had all kinds of necessities. Gauze, medicine, some syringes, disinfectant, a thermometer, all kinds of stuff that you’ve had to use sparingly. What you save in the bag, you make up for with your ability. 

  He smacks his lips and calls you a ‘dumb brat’. “You use nen but don’t know it?”

Sighing, you ask, “What is nen, Feitan?” 

“What you do. Use your aura and stuff.” His arms are crossed, and he looks at you expectantly. You gather that he likes knowing things you don’t. It’s like a weak power trip. 

  But it is nice to finally have a name and explanation for it. And that’s what he did this time. Visiting you for a moment just to pick with you while teaching you something you should have known. 

“Wait, if you could do that, why’d you come here?” He just shrugs.

------

When you see him again, he brings his friends along. You immediately recognize some of them. Phinks, who ran with Feitan, the boy who always collected books, and Uvogin, the giant who was always claiming territory and beating people up. 

  Feitan should be twenty now. It’s hard to tell since he looks youthful. He points to his friend, the boy with the books, and orders, “Heal.”

“You can do it, Feitan, remember?” You were in the middle of cleaning when he and the rest of his posse pop up. They look flustered and a little worse for wear. 

  “Heal.” He always does crap like this. You roll your eyes at first. The body they carry tugs on your strings a bit. 

“Fine. Put him on the table.” Thankfully, it’s cleaned, and a new wrapping has been placed on it. Gently, the man is put on it. You spot the cross tattoo on his forehead. Ah, that’s where Feitan has been. Lately, there’s been whispers of the Phantom Troupe. Merciless killers and thieves from Meteor City that have been gaining respect over the years. Your opinion of them isn’t the greatest but it also isn’t the worst. You appreciate them for standing up for Meteor City, but their methods are questionable.

   You sigh and begin to undress the boy with the cross. “Is that necessary?” 

You continue to pull off his clothes, not bothering to answer the question the girl asked. If she can’t understand why you need to remove his clothes, then that’s on her. She scoffs after another female voice answers her question. 

  You finally see his wound. Feitan can heal himself to a degree, but you don’t think this guy can. The gash is deep and sewed with makeshift stitches. There’s no nen involved, surprisingly. Given that Feitan is an avid user, you thought his friends would be keen on it too. 

“He’s a specialist. Enhancer techniques are harder for him.” Phinks spoke. He must've understood your confusion. 

“And the stitches?” You gently investigate the area. It’s an angry red around it and, like you suspected, infected. It wasn’t properly taken care of. You begin to remove the stitches. You wonder what the thread is made of and how long this has been going on. 

“He,” Phinks points to Uvogin. “And him,” He then points to another large man with long ears. “Thought they could do it. Normally, Machi heals us but they were away from her. Her stitches would have helped him but not any infections.”

  “Ah, well this requires more than I thought.” You touch the ground and out comes a beautiful swirl of flowers. Underneath the moving petals is a blooming sunflower. It picks the guy up so he rests on it. The bed of the flower glows softly and becomes warm. His once wincing face is now peaceful. His injury is slowly closing and the red is beginning to turn pink. 

“The downside of this is that it takes a while. It’ll be all healed up in about an hour or so.”

“ An hour?” Uvogin, who has abandoned his afro and traded it for long standing hair. “Feitan, I thought you said she was good? We could’ve gone to that one guy and got it done right then and there.”

“She’s the best. Wait.” His hands are in his pockets and he moves. Feitan looks around and touches whatever he pleases. You try not to focus on his compliment. You wonder if the reason he moved from your line of sight is because he got embarrassed. If so, you won’t tease him. The Troupe are killers, afterall. 

   You start to feel the weight of your nen. This technique requires more effort than the others. Feitan explained it to you but you never did get the hang of it. You just know what to do instinctively. You were proud that you could do any of this without a teacher.

 What you’re sure of is that this man, whatever his name is, is giving you a crap ton of money after this or there’ll be hell to pay. 

   You feel something tickling the side of your face. The wrapper is red and unopened. You take the energy bard gratefully. “Thank you, Feitan.”

A couple of the Troupe members complain about the time. Machi or Mochi or whatever, the pink haired one, especially complains and criticizes for some reason. You have never seen this person before in your life yet here she is pouting. 

  “You okay?” You see the blond boy with big blue eyes study you closely. He moves closer to your face. A smile never leaves his face. Before you can answer, Feitan, who hasn’t left your side since you ate the bar, answers for you. 

“She’s fine. I’m watching her.”

You hear a couple of snickers. Feitan glares daggers at the offenders. You take a deep breath and ignore the friends who decided to crowd inside your hut. The boy with the forehead tattoo lies peacefully. Although you are running out of steam, his wound is healing nicely. One of the women, you believe it’s Pakunoda, comes to you and bends down. 

“Can I get you anything?” You discover that your throat is absolutely parched. “Some water, please.”

  If you remember correctly, the last you saw of her was when her head was shaved and some outsider kid did it. She had always kept it short. And now, it’s on her shoulders and very sleek. Over the years she’s drastically changed.

  You drink the water, which to your surprise, is clean. “Hey, how did this happen anyway?”

  “Don’t ask questions.” Feitan quickly shuts you down. Before you can ask anything more, you notice the entire group of friends are quiet. 

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about, okay?” You nod at the blonde boy with blue eyes and a permanent smile. Completing the hour, the tattoo guy is up. He’s immediately impressed. “My name’s Chrollo Lucilfer. Yours?” He puts out his hand for you to shake. 

  “Yeah, the book collector-theater nerd-kid, right? My name’s-” Before you can even answer, Feitan does it for you. 

  He gives your name and how your Nen works. He’s quick with it, too. You side eye Feitan for a second. “Thanks, Feitan. I, uh, really needed a spokesperson.”

“Ah, I guess it can’t be helped then, Feitan?” There’s tension in the air. It’s thick and heavy. By the looks of it, neither one is backing down. “Um, it’s not a big deal that he answered for me, you do know that, right?”

  Seconds pass through this. You look around for anyone to intervene with this. Whatever the hell is going on, it’s deep. “Since Fei explained it, why not have her join?”

“Positions are filled.” Chrollo still stares directly into Feitan’s eyes. Phinks nervously chuckles, once again trying to defuse the situation. “Fei, come on. No fighting. Right boss?”

  Suddenly, it’s lifted. Chrollo has what looks like a practiced smile on his face. “That’s true. That’s a rule.”

  Chrollo takes a glance at you. “She obviously means a lot to you. Clearly, she’s an asset, too.”

  “I’m right here, jackass.” Feitan smacks you on the head. “I’ll handle her.” 

  The others sigh in relief. Momentarily, you’re a little offended. “It was nice meeting you.”

They exit your hut right after, leaving Feitan behind. “So. those were your friends, huh?”

“Watch tongue.” You smack your lips and roll your eyes. There is blood on the floor and on the table. The furniture is in disarray due to all of his friends having no home training.  “I haven’t seen you in forever and this is how you greet me?”

 He frowns. “I say hello all the time.” You turn to him. “When? I didn’t see you.”

Feitan huffs and kicks the ground lightly. You get up to move the furniture back to place. Your movements are slow and everything seems so much heavier. Everything is swirling right before your eyes. Your head hurts and yet feels so light. Before you meet the ground, Feitan takes you to the couch and lays you down. 

  “I haven’t seen you in so long, little boy…” Those were the last words you say before you drift to sleep. 

Hours later, you wake up at the sound of birds. There is a beautiful blue blanket on you with golden yellow designs. It’s thick and so warm you could stay forever. You’ve never owned anything like this. 

  Slowly you get up and search for Feitan. He’s nowhere to be found much to your dismay. Last night’s conversation still stays with you. He insisted that he says hello all the time. That he sees you regularly, yet, you haven’t seen him at all. 

  The blanket, the wind chime, the medical supplies, the various decorations with stones, paint and if you weren’t smart, you’d say gold. Could Feitan have been the one to give you gifts? Silently watching over you and in his own way, saying hello? You have felt like you were being watched for years. 

____________

  “Do you understand why I didn’t welcome you?”

“No, and I never will. Now please, leave me alone.” You feel convicted by turning a man of God away, but can he truly be one when he left a child to suffer? You were in the cold, wind, and rain, alone in one of the worst parts of the city. All you had was Feitan, and he was there once in a blue moon. After the rejection from the church, you took it upon yourself to care for others as no one had ever cared for you. Although hurt and afraid, you chose not to spread that toxicity. You decided that no matter the size of change, it still works. 

 However, you will not fall prey to the same people. For instance, that girl you saved and this priest. How can he expect your services with no repentance or atonement? You forgive, but like hell will you forget. 

Damn…you were so sure you were over the pain of your past. That the change you made within yourself and how you treat people so no one else suffers like you, would stick. Alas, all it takes is one person to bring it down. You want to kick yourself because of the regression. Then again, the hostility isn’t your fault.

You walk into the hallway with small statues, stone walls, and large windows. The sun shines brightly through them, making the church seem prettier than it is.

“Please-”

“She said no.” Feitan stands with his hands in his pockets, the sun shining on his pale skin. It has been a few months since the incident with Chrollo. You haven’t seen any of them but have felt eyes on you, which you have deduced was Feitan. However, you learned the truth of the blanket. The name stitched on it belonged to an old clan, the Kurta, that was mutilated, tortured, and murdered by the Phantom Troupe. It disgusts you. The blanket is comfortable but still. 

Feitan, the boy who you taught to tie his shoes, gave you a trophy of his crime. You wanted to burn it, or bury it in the memory of the Kurta, yet you couldn’t. It’s a gift from the one consistent person in your life. Your protector and giver. So, you folded it and put it in a box. 

   Now, here he is like he’s done nothing wrong. Defending you and putting the man that’s been with the city for ages in his place. You’re shocked at his behavior. 

  “Feitan, surely you must understand!” 

“Shut up.” Father Rizole took a step back in surprise. Feitan was one of his regulars, if you remember correctly. This must be a surprise for the aging priest. 

You hum at the scene. Even though the rumors of what the Troupe has done bothers you, it doesn’t mean you aren’t opposed to the benefits. The priest backs up and sighs. 

“If you ever reconsider, please, let me know. We could use your help.”

“I could’ve used it too.” You end the conversation there and leave. Feitan soon follows you. He’s silent on his feet and very fast. Feitan was behind you but his quick feet caught up in less than a second. Now, he walks right at your side. 

“So, you just decide when you want to see me?” 

Feitan shrugs. “I don’t know.” 

Sighing, you turn to him and ask, “What do you need this time?” The lower half of his face is hiding under a plain cowl now. His eyes show all of the emotion needed. “I just hang out.”

  The sun is too hot for this nonsense. Sweat trickles down your face and back, becoming sticky. “So that’s why you’re here, right? I’m shocked.”

Before he can say your name, you continue. “Oh! And let's not forget the little massacre that took place, huh? Yeah, being used to heal your friend from that was really fun.”

“I didn’t.”

 You roll your eyes. “No, just that one guy. That’s who to you, again?”

“Boss.” You scoff at his short answer. Then, you think about the possibility. “Your boss? Then…doing that to the Kurta, wasn’t your idea, was it?”

“No, not mine.” His hands remain in his pockets. His hair blows in the wind slightly. You realize he hasn’t gotten a haircut in a while. 

“If you could, you know, go back in time…would you still do it?”

“Yes.” No hesitation, no thought put into the answer. Just a plain as day answer and a tone that leaves no room for an explanation. 

“So whatever he wants he just gets? As long as it aligns with your twisted mind, right?”

  His eyes grow darker. “I save you.”

You point to the church. “No, no you didn’t. That guy wasn’t going to do anything to me. I had it handled.”

Shaking your head, you go to leave until a hand wraps around your wrist. “Boss takes nen. I didn’t let him.”

  Was that what that was? That tension that day that was suffocating? Remembering that day, you start to form pieces. “Would he hurt you if you didn’t go along with his schemes?”

“No.” 

Well there goes that idea. “Nevermind.”

You try to yank your wrist from his grip, but it’s iron tight. “Let me go!”

“I protect you, always. Bad people here, everywhere. I get dirty for you.” His face is indifferent but his words give it away. The plea for you to understand and realize, dare you say, his devotion to his friends. Does this include you?

Is that what it is? What friendship, this connection is? You are aware of the deeds the Troupe do. You understand why they thought it would be a good idea (somewhat anyway). 

“Thank you, then.” He lets go of your wrist which was grabbed painfully tight. He trades that in for holding your hand instead. You are shocked at first, but if you make it a big deal, he’ll stop. You don’t want him to right now. 

  Not when you feel safe. You still want to kick yourself… and maybe throw in a punch.

_____

Apparently, the Troupe have gone their separate ways for now. They don’t cling onto each other for a long period of time after a job. It’s better that way since it has a lesser chance of them getting caught. They still hang out from time to time, though. 

For you, you managed to get out of Meteor City after the argument with the priest. Feitan had gone to do another heist with Phinks, if you remember right. You took that moment to skip town. You never wanted to stay in the trash, anyway. 

  And you were right to! Everything you thought of as a child about the world outside was true! Sure, people can be rude and things can be corrupt, but you’re fed and resting. There are bright lights and kind people. It can be clean and the soap smells so good. Just the other day you got to experience a nail salon. Rather than stealing from you, the lady next to you, Jade, talked about her family. Her daughter is Ruby and her wife is Scarlet. Jade and Scarlet want another child. You offered the name Emerald. 

  In Meteor City, you would’ve had to fight. Now, you are making friends and offering beautiful names. It’s a stark contrast that is fully welcomed. 

  The sun is bright and the moon is sometimes round. It doesn’t always attract evil and can sometimes sing such a beautiful melody. There are pearls and diamonds. There are seasonings that make the food taste unbelievably good. It’s all expensive, but infinitely better than Meteor. 

And Nen is a secret here. In the city, many knew about it and used it without discretion. Here it’s different. Like a secret identity for a hero. Your nen in particular isn’t used as much as it was before. Your ability was so tiring. Pretty and incredibly useful, but exhausting nonetheless. 

  It has been a few years since you saw him, but he’s seen you. He found you quickly, too. When you came home from your office job (which you are still ecstatic about, by the way) you noticed a new painting in your house. It was dull and in black and white. The painting is of a few plants that take the center stage. Actually, they’re your nen plants. In the background is what looks like your old city. Piles of rubbish and polluted air in black swirls. There are clouds above and a dark sun barely poking out. 

  It’s sad. Beautiful, but sad. You have wondered what he meant by it. You open the door to your apartment. It’s not much and one day you want to get a house. 

  The keys make a jingle when you set them on the countertop. The apartment is still dark, so you scramble to flip the switch. “Why you leave?”

You scream at the top of your lungs. Standing there nonchalantly is Feitan, who you haven’t had contact with in a hot minute. His hair is even longer than before. He wears a new cowl that has a skull on it over his face. His trench coat looks a little too big for him but he wears it well anyway. 

  “Uh, because I live here? What are you doing here?” You set your bag down and take off your short heels. Although he’s a murderer, you still feel safe with him. 

 He takes slow strides towards you. “ Why? I looked for you and you weren’t there.”

“You knew where I was. I got your presents,” You point to the painting. He hides his face a little in the fabric. “I like it by the way. Did you do it?”

“Shut up.” You sigh and walk into your kitchen. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

 You begin to wash the rice. Your eyes switch from looking down to taking obvious glances at him. Right about now, he should be in his mid twenties. It’s amazing how long you’ve known each other. You remember him as that kid who didn’t know how to tie his shoes and him teaching you about Nen. Time flies so fast when you least expect it. 

  You crack the eggs and whisk them. The sound of the utensil against the bowl and the sizzle of the tomatoes in the pan is all that is heard. Feitan doesn’t make one sound. He opts to stare at you working and even has a glint in his eye which you think could be satisfaction. 

  “Do you still like this, by the way? I remember you snatching it.” You try not to smile at the memory. 

 “I do.” He hovers in your kitchen, just waiting, watching you do all of the work. Stingy bastard. After adding the seasonings, you could have never gotten in Meteor City, you fix him a plate. He happily accepts it and sits down on the floor. 

“I have a tab-” Oh, the memory. Allowing yourself to smile, you sit with him and eat off of his plate. “We’re sharing. ”

 He gives a slight growl but doesn’t do anything. “So, what brings you by?”

“I say hello.” You hum with a mouth full of food. “Well, hello to you too, little boy.”

He gives you a light kick. The two of you finish the plate. Both full, you just lay back and talk. 

“How long are you staying?” 

“Not long.” You’ll miss him. “Running from the cops again?”

“Need to hide out for a bit.” You nod, accepting his answer and that your connection will probably always be sweet moments. “It’s nice to have you here, even only for a moment.”

  Feitan taps you again with his foot. “I’m always here. I say hello all the time.” You know and are fully aware of what he means. His odd little gifts decorate your house. To bones, to rugs, even a china set he stole. It’s routine for him to give you something, even when you don’t see him. 

“Even though you run.” He kicks you again. The more you watch him, the more your chest tightens. He’s the only consistent thing in your life. Everything is fleeting. Your job is new as well as your relationship with your coworkers. But there is a line with them. Feitan is different.

  “How long are we going to do this dance?”

“I don’t dance.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “I mean you coming by once in a blue moon.” 

  He shrugs. “I don’t know.” You nod. “Figures.”

He frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, that this whole thing is tiring. You come and go like some kind of feral cat.”

  “So?”

You sputter, “ So I don’t appreciate it.” He takes off his long coat and reveals his chest, next goes his shoes. “I sleep here.”

“You can’t use me!” He gets up and goes in the direction of your room. “Feitan!” You pick up his clothes and set them aside. “Do you hear me? I wasn’t done talking!”

  On your bed is a sprawled out Feitan. He looks at you with squinted eyes. “Shut up, I’m trying to sleep.”

  Like always, he makes himself at home. You sigh, giving up on trying to talk to him. “Move over.” 

  He scoffs and reluctantly moves out of your way. You feel him tense up as you lay down. “This is my bed. I can sleep here.”

  You face each other as you lay down. Neither of you say anything about how close you are. This is probably the closest you’ve ever been since you helped him tie his shoes the second time. You feel his eyes on you, making you nervous. “Stop staring at me.”

  “Never sleep with someone in a while.” You know. The last time was with you, no doubt. At the time, you didn't think about it, if you remember correctly. It's hard to tell since it's been so long. 

“The couch is that way.” He smacks his lips. “No, you go.” You open your eyes. 

“Like I said, this is my bed.” Feitan doesn’t say anything about your ownership. Instead, he’s honest with you. “I’m tired.”

  Instantly, you start to feel a little bad. In the city, no child was ever able to fully sleep. It was too dangerous, especially in the more dangerous districts. Him being honest about his state, you take it as a step. 

  “If you want to, I’ll be on the lookout.” His hands are next to yours. You grab them, just like he did those few years ago. “You can sleep now, Feitan.” 

  You don’t know when, don’t know how either, but you two do end up sleeping. His eyes are closed and his breath even. Your eyes flutter open and see that he’s got slight dark under eyes and his mouth leaking drool. Feitan looks peaceful, sleepy, like he hasn’t done this in a while. 

  The next morning, he’s gone with no evidence he was even there.

_________________

  You watch on the tv screen above the bank about the attack on York New, a city not too far from you. The attack happened a few days ago but it’s still in the headlines. You don’t blame them, to be honest. It was an insane event that over two thousand people died! 

  You cling onto your boyfriend’s arm. He touches your hand reassuringly. His watch gleams in the moonlight and his suit is perfectly pressed. He's the entire package, he’s perfect. A good job, good manners, an honest man, and treats you well, too. He always holds the chair out for you and gets up when you leave the room. Just like a true gentleman. 

  When you first met, it was a classic coffee shop romance. Then it blossomed into a romantic and expensive dinner, the movies, a nighttime walk in the park, all of the classic dates. In every single one of them he was the perfect gentleman, the perfect man. You like him and how he treats you. How consistent he is. He's the type of man you can rely on. 

  Nevertheless, there is a bothersome voice in the back of your head that reminds you of someone he just isn’t. He’s not Feitan Portor. You don’t feel the contentment Feitan gives when the two of you sleep. You don’t study your boyfriend’s features like you did Feitan.

Dammit, why are you thinking of him? He’s not around and you haven’t seen him in what? Two or three years? So why think of him now. Plus, you haven’t received a gift or a ‘hello’ from him. For all you know, he could be dead.

  “Are you alright?” You wake from your thoughts and look at your boyfriend. His hair is dark, blending in with the night. Eyes kind and green, a Grecian nose, and average sized lips revealing a dazzling smile. Not only is the very essence of him suave, but his looks are also perfect. Tall and handsome, well dressed and a smooth voice. 

It's just that one five foot one pest that won’t get out of your head. 

  “Y-yeah just…it’s all so shocking. York New is literally over there.” You point past the river where more tall buildings reside in the distance.

“I know, I know.” He brings you in close to him. He places a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you.” 

Suddenly, the newscaster stops mid sentence and gasps. Before you know it, the Phantom Troupe have been named the offenders that caused all of this. Two thousand people. Feitan, did you really kill that many people?

“I would like to go home. I don’t feel the greatest.” He rubs your arm, you still being tucked into his side. Your excuse was a lie to cover the gnawing feeling towards Feitan and his deeds. Although the Phantom Troupe’s original intentions were from a decent stand point, it seems they’ve lost their way. Feitan has lost his way. 

  The gifts have stopped coming, him no longer saying hello. After the last time, when you made him familiar food and sat in a comfortable silence, he disappeared. This time, there was something about it that hurt. Like he didn’t want to come around. He didn’t want to say hello anymore. Or perhaps, he died which if confirmed, you would ache beyond help. 

  “The Phantom Troupe is dead.” The newscaster said. The crowd gasped, shocked that the most feared criminals in the world are gone. Did you jinx it? Curse the little boy who needed you to tie his shoes. The boy who liked your cooking and made sure you rested. Had strong faith in you, never doubting. Protected you from the shadows and held your hand. 

  Is he really gone? 

You hide your face in your boyfriend’s jacket. Tears stream from your eyes at the thought of his grave. With the Troupe, his friends dead, you’d be the only one to truly mourn him. To remember his name beyond his violence. 

You clutch your chest. “Are you okay? Does your chest hurt?” He grabs you by your shoulders, making you face him. He’s such a kind, decent man. But he’s not Feitan Portor. 

  “I just need to rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.” You give him a chaste kiss goodbye. Once he leaves, your chest hurts even more. You slide down as you look around at all the menace’s little gifts. The painting, the skull, the windchimes, everything he’s given you. Why, oh why, couldn’t you stay here long enough for your gift, Feitan?

Wait, what could you have given him anyway? He’s a thief that takes what he pleases and has nothing to wish for. 

You lay on your couch and put your arm over your face. The tears refuse to stop for even just a second. You don’t know what you’re crying harder for. Feitan or the confusing feelings for him. Now that he’s gone, you can’t properly tell him. How can you explain it? 

  It’s heavy on your chest and tightens it. You want to feel his body heat no matter how hot the day is. There are no small flutters in your stomach at the thought of him. No, it's something in your heart. You want to stare at him, to memorize every feature he has. To hear his soft voice that is just a centimeter away from a whisper. Just melt in his touch, his presence. Wait, why is this happening? You barely knew him! Does that fact even matter though?

 You slip your hand in your underwear, still staring at the ceiling, sniffling at the news of his death. You imagine the future. Seeing him walk into your house and setting his belongings on the table. Wrapping his arms around you and kissing your back. No matter how long you’ve known him, his stature never fails to amuse you. He’d paw at your body, tearing off your clothes. Feitan wouldn’t hesitate to use his hands for your pleasure. 

  You trace your fingers in the direction you think he’d go. Curling your fingers inside, thrusting them in harshly, knowing that he can only be gentle in his own way. Your back arches from the couch. You swear you can smell him and the faint metallic scent that he holds. The feeling of his ragged breath on your cheek you could swear is real. 

  You moan as you take that jump you’ve searched for. Thinking of how good Feitan would make you feel. You're relentless on yourself, still going as strong as he’d be. Adding another finger, going faster and faster on your clit. Your moaning gets louder as the indiscernible amount of time goes on. 

‘ The Phantom Troupe is dead.’

You crash on the couch with one last gasp. The dream of the two of you ends in flames. The house, the passion, the years that go by in that home. Maybe even a child or two. Seeing him in the morning with a groggy voice is gone. Rubbing his eyes and saying he wants more eggs and tomatoes is no longer there.

  What would your gift be to Feitan? Memories? Sex? Food? Nothing fits. He can have those with anyone. 

  You slip yourself out from your underwear. It didn’t distract you. Perhaps if you thought of your boyfriend, it would have. But the feelings you have towards Feitan went beyond physical. What is this? What do you call this?

  Love? Time stops at the realization. It has to be that. That would have been your gift to him. Love. You cover your mouth as you admit it to yourself. 

'I love you Feitan Portor. I won’t forget you. I love your messed up hair and soft voice. For how you didn’t reject me when the world did. I will do the same for you. I’ll look past your torturous ways and miss you anyway. Maybe the world will curse you, but I’ll mourn you. Bury you so no one can spit on you anymore. I love you Feitan. 

   I’m in love with you Feitan Portor. This is my gift to you. For you to know that you will not be forgotten even though I never got to tell you, to thank you for everything. For leaving the baseball bat with me to protect myself. For painting that picture for me. All of the little gifts you thought I’d like, too. Thank you for protecting me from the priest and the wolves that hunted me every day when we were young.'

You stare at the ceiling till the earliest of mornings. It’s still dark, still heavy with the night sky. There’s some rumbling in the distance, a flash of light in the sky. You don’t bother to confirm anything. 

Just as you close your eyes, the window opens with a creak. You move your eyes to see the figure before you. The darkness covers it, only leaving the silhouette. “Why cry?”

You squint, trying to make out the features.  “Are you real?”

“Very.” It must be a lie. A cruel humor the world has. “Stop crying.” 

“I can’t. Not when you sound like him.” The figure cocks his head, that much you can see with the flash of lightning behind him. “Him?”

“Someone who can’t tie his shoes.” Your lip wobbles again. “I can tie them now.” The moon glows enough to show his face now as he steps up to you. Feitan’s delicate features peek out from his cowl. 

 You shake your head in denial. “It’s not real. It can’t be. You’re dead, Fei.” Your voice is hoarse from your sobs. 

  He looks shocked at your words. The man who looks like Feitan smacks your feet off the end of the couch so he can sit. 

“I’ll miss you Feitan Portor.” The longer you stare at the imaginary man, the more you hurt. “Well, stop.”

  He roughly wipes away the tears. “Ugly when you cry.” His face is close to yours. Since he’ll be gone by the time you come to your senses, you grab his face and kiss him. He sharply inhales, not expecting your sudden decision. 

  He growls against your lips, “Stupid brat.” 

  He feels real. He smells real, familiar too. You tell him such and with furrowed brows and a strong grip of his hand, he grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. “I’m real, you idiot.”

“They said you died…” You comb his hair through your fingers. It’s real, he's real . So, what’s going on? Before you can ask him, he cradles you. “Stop crying or I’ll go.”

  Your lips wobble at his threat. Rather than listening to it, you hug him. He nestles on top of you, hips placed between yours. He’s light, lighter than you thought so it isn’t a bother.

  “You’re so ugly when you cry. Don’t cry.” He holds you closer and kisses your head. Against your ear, you feel his lips move. You can’t tell what he’s mouthing. When the two of you comfortably slept those years ago, that was the closest you’ve been. Now, this beats that record. Face to face, body to body, and sharing breaths. 

  After a few moments of thunder and lightning, he kisses you gently. Not at all like the desperate one like before. Realistically, you know these feelings you have for him seem fake. You’ve only had a few moments with him. So, why are they so significant? Are they with him too? Is it possible that love can blossom quickly?

  Gentle kisses turn passionate, never wanting to separate. Little nibbles on the right places and sucks on all of the best ones. Clothes leave, not wanting to get between the two friends, those who dance around each other. For the first time, they meet. 

His hands reach your throat as he kisses you, making sure to give it a light squeeze. His weight is still on you, not hurting in the slightest. Feitan makes sure his hand reaches below and swirls his thumb on your bud. You gasp, surprised you were right about how he’d do it. Every ministration he does is exactly how it was pictured. Your hands don’t compare to it. Not by a long shot. 

  Despite his size, his hands are still bigger than yours. They reach deeper than you and are thicker too. In no time, you come, the bliss lasting a good minute before he sheathes himself inside. His thickness is more than you thought. It’s a bit of a stretch, but in a good way. 

  His gasps quicken with every thrust. You can tell that you're being loud, way louder than when you touched yourself. Feeling the rush and strength of his movements has you claw his back in ecstasy. He groans at the sensation. Finally, after this time of passion and intimacy, you both hold each other as you fall off of that cliff.

  Feitan looks into your eyes. With a softness that no one in the world could’ve predicted the torturer of the Phantom Troupe to have, kisses you. “Don’t cry anymore. Don’t cry.”

 “It’s hard not to when I know you’ll leave.” Silently, Feitan removes himself from inside you. It’s become routine, so you expect him to walk out. He lays back down, his head on your stomach. You run your fingers through his hair. He needs a haircut. 

--

 You wake up, not realizing that you went asleep in the first place. Before you can get up, you feel pressure on your stomach. Feitan rests on you still, eyes completely closed and his face peaceful. The two of you are naked and the only source of heat is each other. As much as you want to wrap your arms around him, you know he’ll react negatively or at least flinch. 

  Soon after, he stretches and rubs his face against your stomach. Like before, he drooled in his sleep. “Good morning.” 

He grunts in response and sits up on his heels. It takes him a moment to remember the night before. His eyes widen as he looks you up and down, making you highly aware of your current state. You cover yourself with a blanket draped over the couch. 

  “I have to go.” Ah, right. He’s a cat. 

He gets dressed. Once he has his boots on, you see him tie them the way you taught him. “Proud of you. You finally learned huh?”

 “Brat.” You laugh a little at him. Once he’s done you ask, “Will I ever see you again?"

He cradles your face. “I come back.” You nod, holding back tears. He studies your face and settles on your eyes. He must have realized that you were trying not to cry. His hands still remain on your face as he kisses you. He lingers there for a minute. A parting kiss, a meaningful one. 

  Something tells you that this feral cat isn’t going away anytime soon. That he’ll always be constant and you won’t be totally alone. A companion you won’t see everyday and only for a night. 

 This is the gift you’ll give him. You’ll be home for him. 

___________________

Months later, news about the Chimera Ants came out. You had already broken up with your boyfriend and heard he had left town to avoid them. Of course, you followed suit and got the hell out of there. 

  Without any plan, you moved back to Meteor City, where you thought that they wouldn’t be. Alas, that was stupid. You made a home base in the residential area. Not knowing that Meteor City was plagued by the wretched beasts. 

  By God’s grace, you managed to avoid them due to you being in the residential district. News that the Phantom Troupe were home to fight them ran rampant. The thought of Feitan made you nervous and you don’t know why. 

  Suddenly, right as you put away your dishes, the door opened. You grabbed a knife and faced the intruder. Standing there was the Phantom Troupe, who once again, barged into your home like they owned the place. 

  “What the hell?” You shout. The first one is Phinks with a wide smile. “There she is! Fei, I found her!”

  You put your hand on your hip. “Seriously, what are you doing her-you’re dragging in mud, take off your shoes!”

 “It’s only a little.” Phinks pouts. “I don’t care! You don’t live here.” 

Phinks and his friends grumble as they do as they’re told. The last one to enter the house is Feitan, who is notably holding his left arm. Without being told, he removes his shoes. 

  “Feitan…” He hasn’t faced you yet. “What happened to your arm?” 

“I’m injured too, (Y/n)!” The smiling boy with round eyes whines. You have no idea what his name is. Only that he and the rest are in Feitan’s gang. 

  “Alright, let me see.” He lays down on your clean table and says, “It’s all over. I need the full treatment!” 

  “Ugh, fine.” You grumble under your breath about the disrespect and your poor table. Finally, Feitan sits on one of the pushed aside chairs. He says, “I need it too.”

  “Big babies.” 

You heal the biggest cry baby completely. The blond, whose name you now know as Shalnark, stretches. “If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been hurting all day!”

  Rolling your eyes, you turn to Feitan who has been silent. He holds out his arm for you. You take the limb and inspect it. 

 “Completely shattered.” He grunts in agreement. He stares into your eyes and gives you a familiar slight smile. You notice that his friends are quiet, not a sound or word among them. 

“You guys alright?” You ask. The girl shakes her head yes and ‘whispers’ to the rest. “Should we leave them alone?”

  “Probably.” A mummy with boxing gloves answers. You’ve never seen him before in your life. 

“Uh, we’ll check the place out. Y’know, make sure it’s safe.” Shalnark shoos the little kid out and into a separate room, your bedroom. “We’ll clear this out in case you guys need it!”

  You huff and roll your eyes. Feitan’s cheeks are red and he’s glaring daggers at his friends. The girl goes outside with the remaining three to check the area. You and your feral cat are alone. 

“What are they checking for? I’m in a residential area.” 

“Ants.” 

  “They’re here? In the safe zone?” You begin to panic until he grabs your hand. “You’re safe now. They’re not in the city anymore.”

“Wha-how? What’s going on?”

  He pinches you lightly, encouraging you to heal his wounds. “Oh, right, right.” Flowers of all colors circle around. They begin to smooth over Feitan’s wounds. You take a second to wipe the blood off of his lip, letting there be some room for the petals to go. 

“How’s the other guy look?”

“She's toasted.” You smile. “Atta boy.”

  He’s healed, the petals and flowers disappear. You lick your lips at the sight of his bare chest. You didn’t notice before due to the audacity of these heathens barging in. 

  His heart rate quickens. “You leave again.”

You nod. “Yeah, yeah I did. I had to, Fei. the Chimera Ants invaded. I had to run.”

“With your boyfriend?”

You let out a small gasp. “ No. How do you know that?” He crosses his arms and leans back in the chair. “You lie.”

“I didn’t lie to you. I just never said anything.”

  “Words of a liar.” You scoff at him. “I did not lie to you. I lied to him. You don’t have any business with our relationship.”

At first, he was looking at his lap. Those grey eyes of his immediately found a new target to glare at. “You’re not with him anymore. ”

“No. Why does that matter?” He begins to tap his foot lightly. “Why did you break up?” 

  “You hungry?” You start to get up until you’re tugged down. “Why?”

When you don’t answer, he whispers in your ear. “Because I fucked you?” Your face is so warm. 

“If we run, we can still make it out.”

“Why are we running?” A small voice asks.

“Because I think they need the room.” 

“Will you two shut up?!” You are two seconds away from running out of your own damn house. You stand and his hands hold you by your hips. “Tell me why you leave him?”

  “Because of you.” It’s embarrassing to tell him your feelings. Hopefully, he can read your mind or something and shut up. He sighs and stands, walking over to you without a hitch. He kisses you. 

  “That’s what you get for lying.” He’s not remorseful or even boastful. Feitan takes your answer in stride. “No more leaving. Stay so I can find you.”

“You’ll always find me, remember?”

______________

Time after that, you were stuck in charge of Chrollo’s lover or something. She’s not too bad but clearly traumatized. Anytime you’d tell her to go with you, she’d look shocked. Like she was surprised she could leave. You were suspicious of her relationship with Chrollo. Something didn’t sit right with you whenever he or Feitan came up. She’d tense up. She never talked about it either. From what you understand with the little information you have, is that she was a former member that raised an orphan and that Chrollo loved her immensely. Perhaps too much.

  From what you know, there was a big showdown on the Dark Continent and the boat that was taking a voyage to the fake one. The Phantom Troupe were on that one at first, fighting Hisoka Marrow. He was a sore loser that got humbled and decided to attack again. 

  Amazingly, only a few died. You didn’t want to know the details or anything. You can’t go through that again. So, after that news, you and Chrollo’s lover parted ways. She went on to find a kid she raised. You, on the other hand, decided to settle out of Meteor City. This was almost a year ago.

  You have an apartment now in the town where you and your boyfriend lived, right next to York New. It’s basic, not fitting any aesthetic or anything. The good thing about it is that it’s bigger than your first one. It’s two bedroom and has a good price. 

   Feitan hasn’t reappeared. It tore you to shreds. You’ve managed to piece yourself together bit by bit, but you are a hollow version of yourself. Surviving and not enjoying the little things you used to. You even saw Jade, Scarlet, Ruby, and the new child, Emerald. Even that heartwarming moment didn’t fulfill you. However, it was the first time you smiled in a while. 

  You stir the food in the pot. Since it’s a little chilly, you made soup. You put the lid over the pot, letting it cook. There’s a knock on the door. You open it and see the man you’ve waited for. 

  Feitan is in dark clothing and has a large scar on his face. There’s no cowl over him, or a large trench coat. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks at you expectantly. You realize that you’ve just been standing there, you move to let him in. Once again, he makes himself at home. 

  “How’ve you been?” 

“You leave again.” He states bluntly. His eyebrows are furrowed and has a frown on his face. 

“Bold of you, very bold.” You move around him. “Why did you go?”

“Because I’d never stay in that city forever. The Ants were gone, the world settled. So why couldn’t I? That place is gross anyway.”

  He sits on the barstool and cracks his neck. You ask a question right after he sits. “How long you here for?”

You don’t know why you asked that. He’ll only be here for a moment. A while ago, you had made the decision to accept it as your gift to him. To love and mourn him when the world won’t. When news about the Phantom Troupe hit, you couldn’t bear to hear it. Their trip to the fake Dark Continent, then their corrected course to the right one, ended in a battle with them facing Hisoka and Illumi and everything else over there. 

  It was too hard for you to think about. That doesn’t mean you didn’t mourn and that you’ve snapped out of it.

   “For good.” 

You look up into his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he’s smiling with soft eyes. You see that he has a dimple on his left cheek. “W-what about-”

“Done for a while. Maybe forever. I know I’m staying.”

   “But your friends, where are they?” He shrugs even though you see the tension. “Separate. We split for a bit.” 

  He rubs his shoulders nervously. “Can I stay with you?” 

“Wow, you’re asking? Shocked.” You tap on the counter. The weight you’ve been carrying is lightened. “Feitan?”

“Yes?” He gets off of the stool and makes his way around the counter. “You know how you give me all those gifts?”

  He nods his head. “Well, this is my gift to you, Feitan Portor. You can stay as long as you like.” 

  He wraps his arms around you. He’s hugging you. This time, you aren’t afraid to hold him back and squeeze. Maybe, just maybe, this is what home is? 

  If the Phantom Troupe resurrects, at least you know he’ll always come home. That you two will be a constant force for each other. No matter if it does or doesn't, you two aren't dancing but admitting things you couldn't. This is home, a gift for each other.  

#feitan portor #feitan x reader #feitan porter x reader #hxh #hxh fanfic #slight yandere #q #phantom troupe #hunter x hunter #hxh feitan #idk what to put here rn

[marblemagnolias]

ok so while going home from the grocery store i just had a realization about Lucas and Claus' designs and i'm sorry i just need to share it with more people, spoilers for mother 3 yadda yadda you all know the drill

little drawing courtesy of yours truly not to make it too dry but yk

Claus and Lucas are twins, that much is evident, you can see it even with the small pixel count thanks to their mirrored outfits and similar hairstyles, but you can see Lucas was closer to Hinawa, more coddled, kinder and sensible, by the fact he is blond, while also predominantly wearing yellow and red, with his blue shorts being here to add a slightly cooler part to his design, variety if you will. it also adds a little bit more interst to his design, as well as paralleling Ness and as such confirming his status as protagonist.

the red can be seen another callback to Hinawa, as her outfit is mostly composed of red, while his blond hair, yellow stripes on his shirt and yellow soles and shoelaces are closer callbacks to sunflowers, as well as chapter 3's end text saying he will become a "sun".

the yellow is more overwhelming than the red, as yellow is usually associated with happiness and activity, while red is passion, love and anger. in his design, the red can also be seen as his loving side as a whole, while the darker blue of his shorts by adding a cooler contrast to his outfit possibly hinting a hidden guilt at what happened to Tazmily and his inability to have stopped Claus from going and fighting the Mecha Drago, thus sealing his fate.

a small contrast to his shy and "introverted" personality (as Palutena would say in Palutena's Guidance) his hair shows his whole face, being kept us and as such showing his eyes and expressions to those in game and thus being more visibly expressive in contexts such as Smash as well as art, both official and fanmade. usually a "shy" character would have their face more obscured but tihs again cements Lucas' status as a protagonist and more active character.

While not being a sweet babyboy absolutely all the time, Lucas is also extremely kind, caring and sensible, but still harbors within him an inner rage at what happened to him and how his whole world was destroyed for the mere entertaimnent of someone who doesn't even bother even learning his commander's, Lucas' own brother's, name, only seeing him as a mindless robot here to do his bidding. that's the counterpoint to the red in his design.

Claus meanwhile is predominantly teal/blue and orange, his ginger hair and orange shorts showing more vivacity and anger due to their warmth, recalling a everburning fire, as well as aligning with Lucas by virtue of orange being a mix of yellow and red in mediums such as painting. His blue shoes and teal stripes add a cooler, maybe colder side, more ruthless, something that you can see in his decision to kill the mecha drago who killed Hinawa and his future transformation into a chimera.

However as a child he still wears yellow stripes, yet again a callback to sunflowers, showing that he too is Hinawa's son, he is Lucas' brother. This part will finally be erased in his chimera form under the black/dark gray jacket with only his pants remaining orange, as such only showing his cold, robotic aspect while keeping the physically active, familiar and yet more dangerous aspect of his design.

when Lucas is dressed in his commander uniform, his jacket isn't gray but brown, keeping his warmer and more human, empathetic and loving side while paralleling Claus' design, also wearing orange pants as well as bluer shoes to go against Claus' full gray and orange/yellow getup.

you can also somewhat see a callback to sunflowers yet again in Lucas' commander unifirm with the brown jacket recalling sunflower cores, usually brown themselves.

as an addition, i do know the yellow stripes are probably more of a callback to Ness' striped shirt to show yet again the maincharacter aspect of Lucas and Claus' importance as Lucas' brother, but i think next to the sunflower aspect it shows that his phantom will loom over much of the game: Flint constantly searching for him thus in turn neglecting Lucas, his role as the Masked Man and ability to use PK Love and removing the needles just like Lucas, who cannot even recognize him anymore, the two pillows in their bed remaining even after he got taken by the pigmasks and his small shoes remaining in the drawer, a lingering hope yet deep sadness to his absence. the yellow stripes are pretty much the only identical aspect of Claus and Lucas' designs, and his absence is felt deep, so deep.

Flint misses Hinawa and Claus so much.

Lucas misses Hinawa and Claus so, so much.

#mother 3 #lucas mother 3 #claus mother 3 #masked man mother 3 #sorry i um. i ummmm. i have autism (real and diagnosed) #me when i love a baby boy character #mother series #sorry for yapping i just wanted to get all of this out #useless talking

[starpirateee]

Hi!! Could you write one of the Curtwen prompts I made, yet didn’t cut it? I love your writing style!!

Honestly there was a bit of deliberation here because you put some really good ideas out there on the form, but I did say I'd write em myself, and by all means, I'll still do it! So, I decided to go for this prompt:

Would you take a modern au from me? Can I do that?

I mean, I'm going to anyway, because I have a dire need to call Curt and Owen husbands (and also for wider Starkid lore), but i just thought I'd warn you beforehand!

"Agent Carvour, have you found anything yet?"

Owen leaned back away from his research. He'd been looking at the same page now for a while, trying to make some sense of it. Redacted government files were hard to get hold of, but even harder to make ends of. His system had been trying to translate it, but not even he had the software for that.

"Quite possibly, sir. I have a few sources, at least."

"What have you got?"

With an air of something that was almost excitement and almost elation, Owen pulled up a series of documents and started the walk through them. "Well, sir, the easiest source was from a few years ago. There's a company in Michigan that's been trying to conduct various temporal experiments under their parent company— some kind of analyst company, I think. They're surprisingly ordinary. Anyway, apparently the experiments just… Stopped. They never drew a conclusion on whether or not their research was connected to what was on the other side."

This had all started when Chimera had dug up a series of centuries old reports about people claiming to have looked into the eyes of old gods. None of the people had known each other, but all of the reports showed some form of consistency, and all told of great, unknowable power.

So, they had decided to look into it, to see if there had been anyone else who'd dared to brave the process of trying to find an answer. Owen was one of those lucky enough to find himself with the resources to start a thorough investigation.

"They didn't finish?"

"No, I don't know what happened, but the reports just stopped one day."

"Is there anything else?"

"An american government report, but it's as hard as you can imagine to decipher. Most of it is redacted…"

"Anything worth noting?"

Owen nodded, carefully turning back and switching the tabs. This felt a little like he was giving a presentation that he hadn't prepared for, and he hadn't felt like this in quite some time. He took a breath, trying to slow down the rampage that was going on in his head. "They started in the early noughts. 2005, to be precide. That's the earliest I'd gotten without looking at those old reports from the pioneers. A branch of the military tried to build a gateway to the other side, to investigate what existed outside of our plane. I don't know names, only one. The name of the man who performed the experiment."

"They got this gateway open?"

"Yes, sir. And they sent someone through. I think there's a good reason why his is the only name they disclosed."

"Why?"

"Because he was declared dead, sir."

His screen still displayed the document, and the man's name sat among the black markouts, clear enough to see. Cross, W.D. Apparently, he'd ventured into the portal, and nobody heard from him or saw him after the date of the experiment. They gave up the search after a month, and after that, Colonel Cross was indeed declared dead.

"So, another dead end?"

"Maybe not. I'll do what I can to uncover this with what I've got available, but it was scanned, so…. It might take some time." Owen was normally confident in his abilities, and uncovering government documents was a difficult yet necessary part of the job. There was something almost genuinely enthralling about scraping off the parts that the world's governments wanted to keep secret. It felt like giving people a small yet surprisingly effective slice of justice every time.

"Keep looking, Carvour. We need to know if this is viable, or even worth our time…"

If Owen had any kind of normal life— if he and his husband didn't both do the dirty work for secret operation services— he would have a blast trying to decide how to describe the intricacies of what he'd been researching lately. The throws of domestic life confounded him to no end, which was why it was so funny when he and Curt tried to imitate that.

The otherwise simple question of "how was your day" turned into a battle of who could craft the most believable lie that better concealed what they'd actually done. Neither wanted to jeopardise their jobs, and Curt had always been brilliant at crafting stories, so it was never dull.

He started to think about what today's excuse would be. Something about pioneers, or the Oregon trail, or perhaps he could bring up that old, dead colonel somehow, that would be interesting to add to the pile.

--

"You know what I'm gonna ask already…"

By the time he got home, Curt was already waiting for him, and the mid-spring sun was starting to set. For anyone else, it was a day at the office, but the trails he had begun to uncover had really put all other days at the office to shame.

He laughed softly, having prepared this answer a number of hours before, and took up a position on the couch. "No, love, you first. I insist."

"Fine, okay," Curt answered with a chuckle. "It was nothing really, just your standard… But, the bear returned, and in about a month, I'm gonna get really rich and run off to central Europe, with a really pretty lady and a dollar store box of magic tricks."

"The same bear from last month?"

"Yeah. Bastard won't leave me alone."

"Sounds wild. Are you coming back after your plans to run off with this really pretty lady?"

"Plan is to cut myself off after three weeks, but at this rate, I might not make it two."

"Not good enough?"

"Owen, I'm a bit too gay for that." To sell his point, he flashed his wedding band, and Owen laughed harder. "Besides," he added, covering his own bout of laughter. "Who needs a fake wife when I've got my own right here?"

Owen shot him a faux-offended glance. "How dare you!"

"You might fool the guys at work, O, but you couldn't pretend you don't think about it…"

Or that he hadn't been experimenting in that part of himself in little segments since he was seventeen. Turns out he suited long hair better, and he wouldn't hesitate to admit that he both looked and felt rather good with the occasional flourish.

"You know me well..."

"I should hope so! Anyway, what're you keeping from me? How was your day?"

"Office, just like you. I've had a conversation with a pioneer, and tried to erase marker pen over the body of a dead soldier. Oh, and I tried to teach myself statistical analysis."

"Jeez, that was— that was a whole rollercoaster there, huh?"

"Mhm, I've been busy."

"You can say that again, god… So, a pioneer? Like those guys that travelled to Oregon?"

"Yeah. Quite interesting people, if a little paranoid." Something other than their oxen might be watching them would've been a perfect addition to the statement, but Owen felt that was a little too close to the line to pass, so he decided not to add it.

The important part was, apart from the knowledge that Curt was on an assignment in a month's time, both of them were none the wiser. Curt didn't need to know that he had started the deep dive into a pack of eldritch gods and was even slightly nervous about the outcome.

He didn't sleep well that night. He knew that he had right to believe that this was all one great hoax, that there was something in the water that made the pioneers mass hallucinate this supposed watcher. They all travelled on the same trail, it was entirely plausible that all of them found the same hallucinogenic and envisioned a thousand eyes watching them and their familes. It was less of a coincidence when two subsidaries of larger companies started describing details of experiments that led them to discovering other beings beyond just the watcher, of course, but he still wasn't sure whether he was privy to believing any of it.

There was something about redacted government files, though, that were meant to be believed. There was a reason they hid information from the public, and that was often because they had found something worth disclosing in the first place. That meant huge news, large press cover ups… The whole works… And that was the last thing any self-respecting government with something to hide would want. Owen imagined the size of the initial press conferences for dealings like Roswell, how many people must've shown up to that conference, under the impression that they were going to get answers, only for the press to redact the next day and claim that it was no more than a weather balloon.

He felt like he was dealing with a weather balloon of his own right now. This was something that this branch of the military clearly didn't want people knowing. The only reason they'd had to disclose any information at all was because one of their own had died looking for this information, and they had to provide the closure for whatever family he had left. Part of him wondered what they'd said, how they'd tried to cover up this man's imminent demise at the hands of another dimension. What did his family know? Was he ever given a sendoff?

When Owen tried to sleep that night, plagued with the thoughts of how much his research was worth, and what really happened on the other side, he couldn't get his head in the right place to take a suitable rest for long enough. Flashes of colour— brighter than anything he'd ever seen— danced behind his eyelids, chasing each other in sequence. Blue. Purple. Yellow. Pink. Green. White. Blue…. He didn't have much of the capacity to think, not when those colours started consuming his subconscious thought, but he spared a moment to the hope that he may get answers of his own if he stuck around long enough.

"He thinks he's brave… He thinks we don't know about him…"

Whatever dream he had been having was taken over by blurred edges and violent pangs of pain that he was sure he could feel outside of this existence. Everything faded out, leving only ruin in it's wake. Broken pieces, scrambled signals… Owen didn't even try and make sense of it, he already understood the futility of trying. There was nothing left in his mind but those colours and those voices— for he was sure there was more than one. A sickening chorus, holding perfect time with each other.

"He's foolish, if he thinks he can go further without us finding out."

"Owennnn…"

"We know what you're doing, Owen…. It's not going to last."

He'd thought about meeting his maker before. He'd thought about the possibility of death, the idea that he may not live to see another day eventually. It was hard to deliberate something so serious in his early thirties, but his line of work called for it. He knew that he had a dangerous job, and that there were few who would be able to save him if something happened.

But, he'd never considered the possibility of his own demise to this extent before. In the formless remains of his dream, where he was forced into hearing these voices talk about his death and how soon it would be to coming, he had pause for deliberation. And it wasn't good.

He had to strain to take control of his own voice, in this space that was once his own. Once so sacred, now scarce and left entirely to the whim of whatever was taking residence in his mind. This was a bad idea. All of this research was a bad idea, and he was suddenly more aware of that than he was anything else. Never before had he had such a violent urge to overturn everything he'd worked on for the sake of something this seemingly trivial.

"There's nothing you can do. It's already started. This is bigger than me…"

"We know that. You're not the only one we have heard trying to work your way into what is ours… Choose your next step carefully, Owen. I'm sure we would delight in taking you in the same direction as the others…"

Before he could really ask what that meant, he was left entirely alone. The ruin of his dream still stood strong, which was strange enough given that the voices had left him alone, but he had the strangest feeling that there was more to this landscape than just what he was being shown. He started to wander, to look around in an attempt to find the real end to all of this. His mind was a wasteland, taken over by the lack of colour and the apparently deafening absence of those voices that had only appeared a moment before. He felt empty without them, although he knew nothing more than the sequence of colours that paraded through his vision.

Blue… Purple…. Yellow…

The pattern was familiar, like he'd seen it before somewhere. And while he wasn't resting easy, he couldn't force himself to wake up, either. No matter how hard he tried, he was just left stuck, wandering the expanse until he found what he was apparently looking for.

Pink…. Green…. White… Blue…

The expanses of his mind stretched out into a road, occupied by nothing but empty space. He supposed that was mostly his own fault; he had known for years that his imagination was never one to be put on par with anything else. He couldn't so vividly picture that which others could, and he'd never really had much of a capacity to dream, either.

So, this warning was strange. Seeing such vivid, bright colours in the back of his mind, knowing that he couldn't have conjured them himself…

He started to walk the road, curious enough to want to know where it went.

"Owen?"

That voice wasn't like the ones who had left moments before. That voice had a personality, and a person to go with. It was warm, though scared. Human all the same. And Owen knew the shape of it.

"Owen?"

Owen let his instinct lead him down the road, through it's many curves and winds. Eventually, the road gave way to what could only possibly be a stage. There was a set of stairs to one side, that he let himself climb before he could think to wonder where they led, and then the familiar voice gave way to a man in the wings, staring at him with desperate, fear-lined eyes. Of course he knew the voice, and of course he had never tried to doubt himself on the matter.

He tried to advance towards Curt, but he took a hasty step back, shaking his head.

"Curt?"

"Prove you're Owen."

"I'm sorry?"

Curt hesitated, and then slowly emerged from the wings. Even though he stood on the light of the stage, it still looked like he was carefully enveloped in shadow, like the darkness was a comfort to him. Owen looked around, wondering what had made him so cautious, and whether it was still around. Had Curt seen what he'd seen? What had those things whispered to him?

"I'm not falling for it again. Tell me you're actually Owen…"

Owen frowned, not wanting to dwell too much on why Curt was so afraid to reach out to him and realise that all of this was as real as they could get it. "Curt, love, I don't know what you want me to say…" There was a certain desperation about him too. Improvisation had never been his strong suit, but he wass confident that, given the right prompt, he would be able to convince his husband that he was who he said he was, to quell any discrepancy that it may have been otherwise.

"Don't. Show me… What happened on your 25th birthday."

The pieces fit into place, and Owen nodded dutifully. He had been out in the field that day, a strikingly hot day in the middle of June. The two of them had barely ended up with three hours together by the end of it, and they'd gone out drinking to celebrate what little time was left of his birthday. He'd never been particularly big on celebrating, but Curt had insisted. They were newly married then, and getting used to the idea of sharing a life with someone else. That was one of the first nights following their wedding when Owen truly came to realise that he'd made entirely the right decision, and that there was nobody he'd rather share his life with than Curt Mega.

"My 25th… That was a home ground mission. I was in the state."

"What happened to you?"

Owen smiled, somewhere between fondness and a need to hide the melancholic air that hung about that question. He pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, and huffed a weary breath of laughter. "I was trying to make my exit, but the suit jacket caught on a fence. Here…" With his sleeve rolled to just the right length, Owen held out his arm and pointed out a pale flash just below his elbow— a jagged scratch that had never quite healed right. "That's what happened after the fabric tore. Is that enough?"

Curt had known about the scar. He'd also known about the story. He was pretty sure that nobody else knew, though, so in his head, that had always been his fallback option in the event that he was ever sure Owen needed to prove himself. Those stories lined up perfectly, and while Owen had missed out on some of the details, in the grander scheme of things, he'd gotten it exactly right. He shifted, letting a knowing smile cross his face through the fear that still gripped him.

"It's really you…"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

Curt's approach was still careful, premeditated. Even though he knew the truth now, there was still something about him that screamed a lack of trust directly into his ear, and it made actually reaching out for Owen so much harder. "You… You were trying to kill me."

"What now?"

"I know what I saw…"

"I don't doubt you, but I would never… I swear it on my life."

"I know, that's why it was strange… I— What the hell's happening?" This stage was the only thing connecting the two of them to reality. There was nothing beyond it but the end of the road that Owen had travelled down, and nothing behind it but black, empty space.

Owen let his instinct take over. If the two of them were going to face the unknown, whatever and wherever this was, then they were going to do it together. They always had, and they always would. That was the way things worked, especially for the two of them, because their lives were built so heavily on the idea of distrust that any semblance of the opposite they could get, they would cling to. Normally that was exclusively each other, and so the world wasn't usually much larger than the two of them.

Their hands connected in the middle of the emptiness. Owen pulled Curt Closer to him, and the two of them stood side, performers to an unknown audience, marionettes for something larger than themselves. They exchanged a glance, and Owen registered the warm, homely spark residing in Curt's eyes.

"I think we're trapped in a nightmare, crazy as it sounds," he tried to respond, but he wasn't entirely sure where this was going to go. "I can't wake up, but I remember falling asleep last night."

"Me too. I fell asleep before you did, you were still reading."

"Right, and now there's this. Whatever this is. did you, by chance, see those colours too?"

Curt nodded. "They came before you did, before the- other you. Blue, and purple, and yellow…"

"…Pink, and green, and white..?"

"And then blue again."

Owen heaved a sigh. "Curt, there's something I have to confess. It's safe to do so now, there's little that could get in the way of what I have to admit, but this is one of those things I wouldn't be able to tell you awake, you understand?"

There was a moment's pause, in which Curt tried to work around Owen's phrasing. Both of them felt the incredibly revealing sense that they were being watched, so Curt understood that Owen had gone into the professional mindset— switching off his senses for the sake of making as much sense of something as possible. It was always how he rationalised his way through situations, and it hadn't failed him yet.

Eventually, Curt nodded again, as the words started to sink in and he started to get a sense of what was being said. "This about what you told me this evening?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid there's a little more to it than what I told you, but I suppose that was rather obvious."

A nervous breath of laughter left Curt, only partially voluntary. "I thought there'd be a bit more to it than erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier…. What the hell kinda explanation was that, anyway?"

"One I spent a good hour crafting, thank you very much. I thought it was clever."

"Better than a pretty lady and a box of tricks?"

"And a bear, yes."

"… And the bear. Right. Well, what's that mean? erasing marker pen over the body of a dead soldier, what're you saying there?"

"I've…" This is not going to get you done for. Those documents were already top secret before you saw them. And if it gets you out of this nightmare prison, then surely it has to be worth it. "I've been uncovering sealed military case files that might explain what's happening to us right now."

Curt's eyes went wide. "Fucking what?!"

"It's all part of the job. I can't… I can't elaborate. Know only what everyone else knows: that the only reason any part of this is disclosed at all is because someone died during one of the experiments."

"What's that got to do with what's happening here?"

"That's what they were researching."

That seemed to click to some degree. At least, Curt seemed to understand a few of the larger pieces, perhaps the more obvious ones. "The colours?" In his head, there was an experiment, someone tried to make sense of whatever that was in their shared mindscape. Someone— a soldier, presumably, had died in the middle of these experiments, and now Owen had gotten tangled in this mess through his agency, and the two of them had been dropped into the same nightmare.

Owen nodded. "The colours."

At the moment he said that, a loud rumble disrupted their moment and forced their attention out into the expanse of nothing. Laughter— multiple sources with varying shrieks and gasps that couldn't be placed to a single source— burst from behind the wings, and from in front of them, and from the endless expanse of black that surrounded them. A loud crack followed, and Curt swore as the stage splintered beneath his feet. For a split second, his grip loosensed, and the next time the ground rumbled, they were torn apart by the growing crack in the stage. He staggered back, and the two of them ended on opposite sides of the stage, the crack between them growing and delving deeper into the unknown.

"Owen!" He called, trying to regain his footing but falling back.

"Curt! Hold on!" Owen yelled through the growing laughter, scrambling back to reach out for the pulley system backstage. He needed a foothold on something, a way to sturdy himself so he could regroup and think. It was too loud, he couldn't think in this kind of heat, with this kind of mess, and Curt, and-

Another crack. The stage was starting to fall away from itself, split not quite perfectly in two. Owen's breath ran short. In the swirls of colour and mayhem and possibilities, he saw a way out. One chance to get this right, and to make sure that they both survived the fall while they were still stuck here. He gripped the rope tight, levering himself further towards the crack, and looked to Curt. "You're gonna have to jump it!" He called, desperation winning over any attempts to stay sane. "Don't worry! You know I'll never let you down!"

"Are you crazy?!" Curt managed, staring into the gap. "I can't jump that, it's too far!"

"Curt, before the whole place splits in half, you have to get over here!"

"What if I don't make it?"

"Trust me! Please!"

Curt backed off a few paces. Owen stood ready, one hand gripping the rope wrapped around his wrist, and the other reaching out as far as he could, waiting for a move to be made. After a singular preparatory breath, he sprinted for the gap, and pushed off from the splintered wood at the edge.

He reached out.

Owen reached out.

Their fingertips connected briefly in the space, and then Curt slipped away beneath his grasp.

Owen threw himself forward, feeling the rope worming itself free and burning his wrist in the process. He'd promised. He wasn't going to let Curt fall. And he was nothing if not a man of his word.

Curt's eyes squeezed shut, preparing for an endless fall through the ineviatble. Something laced around his wrist and he felt himself stop moving. Exerting all the caution he knew to exert, he looked up, and caught a familiar whiskey brown staring back at him.

"I've got you!" Owen breathed, and Curt fought to angle himself so that he could get a better chance to grab the broken stage floor. When Owen started hauling backwards, Curt managed to get a hold of the edge of the stage, and made it a joint effort to haul him to his feet. "You're alright… You're okay…"

Curt essentially fell into Owen's arms. Owen held on tight, like he could lose his partner at any second to the swirls and the crevice. He stared out into the emptiness, ignoring the very real pain that he could feel at his wrist but cherishing the very reel feeling of Curt's shirt underneath his hands. The very air seemed to shift. Owen wasn't previously aware that colours could get angry, but this green that flooded the space behind his eyes was pissed. He could feel it.

So was he. Pissed, and way more desperate than a man ought to be.

"Alright," he muttered once, and Curt drew back ever so slightly. He noticed Owen was staring off into the greater expanse, and hoped for all it was worth that he couldn't see something out there.

"Alright!" His voice got louder, and he tried to mask his utter despair in an authorative tone. "I get it. You hear me? I get it!"

Everything fell eerily silent. The only sound that remained was the pounding of Owen's heart in his ears. He took a breath, strangely certain of himself. Glanced at Curt. Spared his attention on the void again.

"That soldier… Wilbur Cross? That was your fault, wasn't it? There's a good reason nobody can get very far into digs like these, and it's because you strive to kill them before they do. Nobody ought to know what's on the other side, and that's why nobody does…"

"Owen, what're you doing?" Curt whispered, but to no response and little avail. Owen was lost in whatever he was about to say.

"… But, I've heard talk of bargains being made here, so how about it?"

"Your desperation speaks for itself."

Owen had to pretend that that— the voice from the middle of nowhere or what it had said to him— didn't bother him in the slightest. He steeled himself, not sure where to direct his attention but knowing he'd probably have it right no matter what he chose. "What do you say, am I allowed to make a deal?"

The air shifted. Owen didn't receive a direct answer, but he knew that he'd been allowed to continue. "If I don't continue— if I go back, and tell my people that it's an impossibility, that it can't be done— would you let him go?" Another quick glance at Curt, as if the green something needed clarification, or as if he knew what he was signing himself up for.

Curt was frozen in place, his eyes wide. He'd heard every word as it echoed in the void, and he hated what it was implying. His gaze was fixed on Owen, fear blazing through his face. "No, Owen—" his voice came out weak. As far as literal interpretations go, that was not a good one. He didn't understand what was happening, but it terrified him to know that Owen was being so calm about this, while he could be selling his life away with nothing more than a few choice words.

Owen frowned, and muttered an apology he was sure only Curt would catch. The green grew angrier, setting a violent fire behind his eyes and forcing him onto his knees as the pain flooded his body.

"You better not be fucking with me."

"No! I— I wouldn't! I'm serious! I'll call it off, I swear on my life, just… He has nothing to do with any of this. It's not his fault."

The thing considered, holding Owen firmly in place while he deliberated. Curt couldn't move— he didn't dare, lest something happen to Owen that put him in more danger than he was already in. All he could do was force himself into keeping his breath steady, and not thinking about what a single wrong move could do to either of them. His eyes landed on the friction burn winding neatly around Owen's wrist, and he decided to focus on that for a while; the only other colour in a void of blackness and green.

"Very well."

That was the last thing Owen heard. Some part of his mind just shut down, and he collapsed to the floor of the stage. He didn't hear the way Curt screamed his name, or the return of the chorus of laughter. His eyes closed, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up with a start, underneath the sheets of his own bed, gasping for breath. He sturdied himself out, and once he was sure that he was real, and definitely in a familiar space, he looked over to Curt, and found him still asleep.

"Curt?" His voice was soft, but his mind was a knife point of tension. If that had gone wrong, then why was he the one to live through it ant not Curt? He tried again, biting his lip. "Curt..?"

Curt groaned. His eyes opened slowly. The relief that Owen felt hit him like a tidal wave.

For some reason, Curt was entirely surprised to see that Owen had made it through to the other side. He managed a weary smile, and tried to get his vision into focus. That was one of those decisions that he immediately came to regret. As soon as he brought himself a little more into the real worls, he noticed that the brown in Owen's eyes was stained with something else, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. Dripping down his irises was a flash of toxic, unsettlingly bright green.

#spies are forever #saf #starkid #agent curt mega #owen carvour #star mail #void offering #nova's tags → #wiggly would have an absolute field day with owen and curt huh #bc desires run deep. they want each other. they want to be free... #but curt wants to not be haunted by the ghosts of his past #and owen wants to move on. to get a better future where he doesn't have to devote his life to an agency #might be fun to play around with

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Remember the story of Beidou, Noelle, Eula, Shenhe, Ganyu, Ei, and Yae wih a S/O who got shrunk?

Well what if the opposite happend.

As in Beidou, Noelle, Eula, Shenhe, Ganyu, Ei, and Yae dealing with their S/o turning comically large.

(Genshin Impact) Beidou, Noelle, Eula, Shenhe, Ganyu, Ei, and Yae's S/O becoming comically large

Beidou simply stares at S/O as they now nearly rivaled the ship in size, even when kneeling.

(Beidou) "Well, guess we're not taking you with us anywhere soon."

(S/O) "How did this even happen?!"

(Beidou) "Beats me. We'll figure something out though, don't you worry your little head now...Er, rather big head.-"

(S/O) "Can you at least say that without a smirk?"

Beidou made no reply as her smirk only grew bigger.

Maybe someone around Liyue Harbor knew of a legend or some kind of drink to help S/O shrink?

Or maybe even Xiangling could cook something to do that!

...Well, that dish would have to be pretty big.

(Beidou) "S/O, me and the crew will get you right as rain, we'll have to set sail for a day or two."

(S/O) "So what am I going to do?!"

(Beidou) "I'm going to find the Traveler, they saved the harbor, surely they can save your size!"

Noelle is stammering at the sight of her S/O. A minute ago, they were only slightly taller than her.

Now, they were nearly the size of a house in the city.

(Noelle) "WHAT HAPPENED?!"

(S/O) "I-I have no idea! I just blinked and...!"

Noelle immediately stands on the top of her toes, giving S/O a reassuring grip on their shoe.

(Noelle) "I'll grab Master Jean! Wait right here!"

(S/O) "R-Right....Not like I got anywhere to go anyway..."

A crowd was forming around S/O, but due to their size, they were able to trail Noelle with their gaze, seeing just how fast she ran.

(S/O) "Could she always run that quickly...?"

Eula's eyes go wide with shock, as S/O now stood over the trees without any issue.

Which was concerning, since they were only the same height as her thirty seconds ago.

(Eula) "What in the hell...?"

(S/O) "E-Eula?! Are you down there?"

S/O did their best to crouch down without crushing her or knocking down any of the trees.

For once, she was completely at a loss for words.

No quip or remark to address the situation.

(Eula) "A-Ahem! We'll get you back to normal, we just have to...uh..."

Eula has absolutely no idea what to do.

At the very least, S/O could make her scouting duties easy.

...Maybe she could convince them to let her ride their shoulder until they return to their original size.

Shenhe stares at S/O with an unflinching gaze.

One would be forgiven to think that she was completely unfazed by S/O's sudden increase in size.

However, she was anything but.

(Shenhe) "Could you always do that?"

(S/O) "N-No! I have no idea what this is!"

Shenhe's first instinct is to get Cloud Retainer, but she was hesitant to leave them alone.

(Shenhe) "We will get Master. Please, come along with me."

Shenhe insisted on staying on the ground to protect them from any potential threat.

Big or small, she would not let anything touch S/O.

Except for every tree and boulder they accidentally walked into.

Ganyu's stress levels go through the roof.

As did S/O.

(Ganyu) "Wha-I-Bu...?!"

She couldn't even form the words, as S/O panicked at almost hitting the building they were nearby.

(Ganyu) "P-Please wait here, I know who can help us!"

Ganyu doesn't want to leave S/O alone, but only Cloud Retainer could do anything about...whatever this was!

She is absolutely panicking the entire time as she runs as quick as her feet can carry her, any previous fatigue felt vanishing into the wind.

Ei is concerned, but more confused than anything by what happened to S/O.

(Ei) "What in the world...?"

(S/O) "I...I have no idea!"

Whatever this was, Ei would find a way to make her S/O normal.

She has S/O rest in the courtyard as a group of guards protect them from anyone who would mean harm.

But given their size, they probably didn't need it, not including the fact they were in one of the most guarded areas in Inazuma.

(Ei) "I wonder if Miko would have anything to say..."

Ei shook her head at the thought.

(Ei) "She would probably laugh..."

Yae's stomach hurts from laughing, seeing S/O's terrified expression as they now stood almost nearly the size of the Sakura tree.

(S/O) "WHAT THE HELL?! YAE, DID YOU DO THIS?!"

(Yae) "If I could, you would have found out much much sooner. And probably not on top of the hill."

She could probably find a solution very quickly, but part of her wanted to see how this long.

Not that S/O did, but if only they weren't at such a precarious position.

If they fell, now it wouldn't kill them but it would certainly hurt.

But at the very least, she now had a couple good ideas for some light novels.

And who better to sell it than the actual living giant?

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #beidou x reader #noelle genshin impact x reader #eula x reader #shenhe x reader #ganyu x reader #ei x reader #yae miko x reader #beidou genshin impact #noelle genshin impact #eula lawrence #shenhe genshin impact #ganyu #ei raiden #yae miko

[dark-elf-writes]

Master of death Harry at UA who accidentally summons Oboro’s ghost and doesn’t get why Shota and Hizashi are crying but doesn’t say anything as they cry

I read this as MoD Harry as a student doing this which makes this funnier and also more heartbreaking.

Like Harry leaving after the battle and needing to do something different, something that doesn’t involve a castle of ghosts and the memory of blood on his hands and screams in his ears, he ends up, through a letter sent to him at exactly the right moment courtesy of Nezu (and how he managed to get a letter delivered to an unplayable address Harry isn’t sure he wants to know), as the oldest member of 1-A.

He doesn’t really know what to claim as a quirk because his magic is fucked and telling people is illegal but then he summons a ghost (the previous tenant of his apartment who had a heart attack and Merlin he is going to have words with his realtor) literally the night before and decides “Necromancer” is close enough. Besides the dead flock to him now (had they always?) whether he wants them to or not, it’s only fair that he gets something out of it other than a terrible sleep schedule and the world’s first anti-ghost ward outside his bathroom.

And UA has no shortage of ghosts. Students, alumni, and former teachers alike follow Harry’s every step from the moment he enters the gates a day before everyone else (for a meeting with his new teachers to “see where he places due to his unique circumstances” which sounded like kind way to say “we know you have a year four education in non magical subjects”) but one in particular shoos the others away with a smile and whisper of… something herding them off. He doesn’t fully manifest, invisible to everyone but Harry, as he follows his steps.

“Hey, kid, you’re the transfer right?”

If Harry was less used to ghosts he would be a little offended about being called “kid” by someone who looked the same age as him, but Ghosts were frozen as how they were when they died. For better or worse.

At least when around Harry they didn’t show their death wounds. Instead appearing whole and unblemished.

The meeting room was full when Harry entered, the ghost at his shoulder, and he fought the urge to check for exits. He didn’t need a window to get away with his magic, didn’t think any of the people here were strong enough to stop him if he wanted to leave, quirks or no, not since he had collected the hallows and everything changed.

“Er, hello.”

Well, maybe not everything changed.

Several of the teachers smile, one with the most ridiculous hairstyle he has ever seen beaming particularly brightly, but it was Nezu that drew his eye.

Nezu who smiled at him and gestured to where a steaming cup of tea waited at the empty space on the table. “Potter-kun. How lovely it is to meet you in person.”

Harry had barely made it to table when he felt the familiar yank of his power slipping the leash — less common now but always at the worst moments — and a moment later the ghost still following him gasped as color flooded him.

Huh. His hair was blue. Teddy would like that.

The blond teacher stood so quickly their chair flipped behind them followed by two others wide eyed and disbelieving as they stared at the ghost. The ghost who watched them with eyes just as wide, wiggling his fingers and gasping when their eyes followed the movement.

“You can see me?!”

Harry froze, not daring to breathe. Fuck this was bad, but the question was how bad.

Then one of the teachers, the woman who Harry was very careful to not look below her shoulders, sobbed.

Right… this was… not a great way to start a new school. “Traumatize your professors” was usually a term four activity for him not before school had officially started. Still it couldn’t hurt to let them talk for a while. He could always send the ghost away if things went south… probably… maybe… eventually.

Harry sank into his seat and drained his tea in one long swallow. This was going to be along day.

#the elf talks #mha #bnha #harry potter #feral about this tbh

[wttcsms]

hi everyone! i was on a semi-hiatus but now it’s time for me to actually lock in LOL. i’ll be deleting tumblr for a short while & i’ll see you all in april!

#the queue is nice and loaded #ALSO #there will be new content dropping ok!!!!! #new content is on a queue as well BUT it will not be tagged as a queue post since ik- #-some of yall specifically block queued post! #thank u all v much for the support #a lot of times i feel like tumblr is just not the platform i want to write on #and then someone on here says something kind and it makes a world of a difference #thanks for always staying by me! i’ll be back soon!!!

[crush3dmary]

Sad posting in the tags, you're free to ignore. Just need to get it out of my system and twit circle isn't sufficing.

#I think posting someone else's art they did for me #To the same audience with all the same tags and thematic matter #And having their art get way more interaction than mine is the final straw to make me give up on art #I don't get any joy out of it #I don't find catharsis out of it anymore #I used to do art because it was like spewing my innermost workings on a page and saying to the world 'this is how I feel' #There was something very vulnerable with sharing that with people but #I wanted to make people understand what's in my head #A cry for help if you will #Or more like a cry for understanding #And it feels so hollow when people who get plenty of interaction say 'oh if you're upset by no interaction #Then you're doing it for the wrong reasons etc etc' #And for one it's easy to say when your stuff DOES get plenty of interaction #But for two as a teenager I was viral on deviantart. Thousands of followers and multiple daily deviations #Before I even turned 18 #I literally grew up and am conditioned to thrive on external validation and I just don't get that anymore #Ever since I deleted my deviantart in 2014 because my abuser was literally using it to stalk me I haven't been able to hold an audience #I threw it all away and now I can't get it back. Not here not twit not insta not anywhere #So I'm giving up. That's it that's all. Not like anybody gives a shit anyways #It kind of feels like ripping out a piece of your soul #Putting it on display and then having no one care #I'm tired of destroying myself just to be ignored over and over again #I really did peak when I was 17 didn't I

[stagefoureddiediaz]

To all the anons currently harshing my mellow by clogging up my inbox shouting angrily at me for theorising that Eddie and Lucy are going to go on at least one date and telling me you'll stop watching the show if they do.

I suggest you stop watching now and save yourself some time - perhaps use it to gain some critical thinking skills, or maybe use it learning how to not go around making your misery everyone else’s problem!

Don’t forget to close the door on your way out!!

#hate anon is never ok #I'm not answering any of you directly as I'm going to be blocking you all #but I'm not here for you to be rude to #grow up #I'm not here to provide you with your much needed reality checks #you don't like something - stop watching and don't make it other peoples problem #I want to enjoy my show - a show that we're so luck to have because they give us so much depth to explore #the world has enough hate in it without you adding to it #try kindness think before you type and remember that there are real people behind these blogs #real people who deserve to be treated with the same respect and kindness you'd expect to receive yourself #just take one moment to keep in mind that you might be saying something to someone who is struggling with their mental health #and what you say could be the thing that makes things worse for them #I'm not going to say more becasue it will only make me angrier but think - just think #911 discourse #911 on fox #911 fox #911onfox #911 speculation #911 spoilers #only including that tag becasue I refer to a spoiler!

[theophagie]

"Imaginary little girls ~can't just be tomboys in peace anymore~ because imaginary evil trans people will try to indoctrinate™ them" and are the ex-little girls who were instead at all supported by their parents and peers even for ~just being tomboys~ in the room with us

#being a maschiaccio in 2000s italy or at the very least in my area not only meant constant jeering because you were effectively #failing at what you naturally should have been (a feminine girl) but also being accused of having ''something wrong with you'' sexually #(and i use sexually as an umbrella term here because most people didn't know of the differences between gender sex sexuality) #(and many (MANY) Still don't) #in the eyes of the average person at no point in time was being a tomboy ever Just about being a gnc girl #the lines or lack thereof and shared experiences etc etc etc. but okkkk 🫶 #this isn't anything new but it's genuinely literally a fascist kind of mo. ''the past sucked always irrevocably undeniably #but let's pretend that it didn't so that we can blame [trans people] by saying that the present might suck because of them'' #we are not making it out of the absolute state of the world jan #mytext #rl #i'm not even saying this in a ''debate'' way because there's literally no point in debating t//erfs #BOO you are so scared of self-determination and of the amorphicity and possibilities inherent to the human existence #and you're so so scared but also so happy that you have someone to punch down when you're so used to punching up instead

[tautozhone]

idk how to start this so this post is ab individual action, trying to motivate positive change in the world, etc etc

a lot of growing up in the US for me makes things feel more scary than they are. like it’s actually not that difficult to go out of your way to get a bottle of water or iced cup of water from some random drive through if you think you should do it. either fast food conglomerate or local actually, it’ll usually be cheaper than 5 dollars to get drinkable water. i try to have 5-10 dollars i can justify spending on water, and asking for change, because sometimes when i’m out driving i need to go grab water.

i do not do this for me as much as i try to do it specifically when i see someone who’s most likely homeless on a street corner. i’m sure one day i might do this and they might not be there when i come back, but what have i lost really? a bit of time and a bit of money that would’ve meant more to them, that i can hold onto until i see them next.

the pressure that a lot of people feel when they think “what can i do” comes from this grand narrative that the average citizen can singlehandedly fix the housing crisis. rich people? maybe. nonprofits? not in a day, not all one person still. what can i do is a question i ask a lot. what can i do, not just because it feels bad to move along like nothings wrong with the world, but what can i do that will do anything. what can i do that makes even the smallest change.

i feel like it took me too long to figure out a personal method to what i consider individual action. it’s taking time to get to my own financial stability to be able to do more. but for now it’s as simple as water and cash. not water and food, but water and cash.

individual action means a lot in small steps, go get a bottle of water bare minimum and the price of a meal if you can and then just give it to them. if it wasn’t such a miserably hot place where i live i would keep a pack of water in my car, which i still want to do for the sake of having immediate access to water to give someone who might need it- hot or cold sometimes won’t matter. but when it’s hot out, get cold water, if it’s cold out, a warm tea will hydrate more than coffee will as long as it’s not super caffeinated.

#very genuinely i’ve always felt paralyzed by the idea i cannot doing anything to help and on the grand scale i kind of can’t #i can’t give someone a house to stay in where i could take care of the space enough to get someone back on their own feet #but i can give someone water and some money for whatever they need #one day i’ll be able to do more but for now. water bottles and cash. #what i want to say here is everyone knows bare necessities and everyone knows ways to get them #i also have an opinion that you should sit with and hold the harsh feeling of seeing the world fall apart and help people survive anyway #idfk man #i’ve met some extremely fucking jaded people in my time at college who seem to have no way to piece together that they can do SOMETHING #one of my classmates once complained about feeling bad about not doing anything for a guy on a corner and i recognized who #because i’d seen him too and done nothing at least 5 times before one day on the way home i gave him all the cash i had on me #she’d said she’d do more if she wasn’t so scared and anxious of being hurt. i don’t see how he could even look harmful or dangerous #he blessed me and offered a hug and asked me to have a good day and said thank you and i still can’t see why she was scared of him #at the same time i hadn’t done anything until i saw myself in someone else and thought it looked nasty. looked uncaring. #i saw him again today and gave him a water bottle and all the cash i had on me. i told him the weather seemed hot #he agreed with me and he took the bottle of water #i think i interrupted him opening it to hand him the rest #he got up and he blessed me again #offered a hug and more thank you’s and it’s so simple but i felt us both human in that moment. talking about the weather in a brief exchange #wishing each other well as we go different ways #he wouldn’t stop thanking me and wishing me well #i told him it was the smallest thing i think anyone could do and i still walked away hollow wishing to have done more somehow #to suddenly own an apartment complex nearby for him and anyone he knew that needed it too #not a rigid shelter but a place to make home #blah blah blah talking too much about a deed done because i get emotional about humanity #tauto talks

[hohuios]

Tag drop: 2/2

#[ visage. ] you know another man as good looking as i am? the correct answer is no; by the way. #[ mini study. ] is it decided from when we're born then? ones born without much power are fated to be stamped out by you? #[ meta. ] one who's let his soul rot can't measure up to someone with a real soul just by getting power. that's not how it works down here. #[ essence. ] it’s a cruel and random world. and yet the chaos is all so beautiful. #[ humans. ] you think humans are weak. yeah; their bodies lack the physical ability of demons; but they posses something that demons don't. #[ demons. ] he understands love; so he'll make it fine as a human. the only things i choose to exterminate are demons. #[ rebellion. ] i always wondered; why did my father give me the rebellion? if the yamato can separate man from devil… #[ sword of sparda. ] he split his power in three parts. one bore his own name; the second blade was named to embody retaliation... #[ yamato. ] ... and the final blade was named to embody a god of death. #[ sparda. ] why do you refuse to gain power? the power of our father sparda? / father? i don't have a father. #[ eva. ] she loved humanity; a demon and her children. it's far out of reach now; that warm smile from my childhood. #[ vergil. ] jackpot! -- why you gotta leave me hangin'? we used to love saying that. / i have no recollection. #[ nero. ] i should thank you. / that'd be out of character. maybe you should just throw an insult my way instead. / that sounds better. #[ patty. ] well patty; if I'm not mistaken this is one time that i might owe you a little thank you. #[ trish. ] if you get sick of it; you can always come back here. / why that's uncharacteristically kind of you. #[ lady. ] can i come along? / do what you want. but don't expect to get paid. #[ morrison. ] damn; you make me wait forever and then you go making selfish requests. / sorry. #[ v. ] for a second there I thought you were gonna shish kabob me. / i know how stubborn you can be. #[ mundus. ] again i must face a sparda. strange fate; isn't it? / strange and ironic that it will end the same way. #[ syd. ] well then strong and gentle lord dante of the 'real soul.' you'll let me live even now; won't you? just like you did before.

[bysaber]

weeping dragon

pairing: neuvillette x fem!reader

summary: neuvillette thinks he isn’t deserving of your love.

content: cliche !!!, reader trapped in his house bc of rain, lil antsy but happy ending

wc: 800

a/n: mm hii!! first fic here! I hope you enjoy it I kind of wrote it in twenty minutes and I’m just publishing it without beta reading bc (we die like men) I’m just too in love with neuv and I want to share it with the world lolol

Neuvillette couldn’t bring himself to even think about making a move.

He kept many secrets, and every time he faced your bright smile he would remember it was not his place to disturb your peace. After all, how could a young woman like you endure the dangerous claws of a dragon?

You had stopped by his house to discuss the latest trial and his emotions got the best of him, causing a rain to start pouring.

A storm was approaching; lighting was seen through the window and low thunders could be heard. Neuvillette plagued himself under his breath, hoping there would be a day where he could better control his feelings.

“Here,” he said as he handed you the cup of tea. You watched the lighting curiously, “I do not think the storm will pass for a few hours. You should stay. For the night, I mean.”

You took the cup of tea and averted your eyes from the window to Neuvillette’s face. You studied him with caution, as if it was the first time you ever saw the man — even though you worked together for many months.

“Are you okay?” you asked, ignoring completely his offer.

The words got stuck in his throat and, for a few seconds, he really thought he wouldn’t answer. The man sipped on his tea, his mind racing while trying to figure out why you would ask that all of the sudden. “May I ask why are you asking me such a question?”

It was a small gesture, but he saw it all the same; the way you flexed your hand. There was something you wanted to grab?

Something you wanted to hold?

“They say… It rains when the Hydro Dragon weeps. Yeah, that's what they say,” you murmured and once again looked out the window. To the storm. “The Hydro Dragon. That would be you, right?”

Neuvillette almost choked on his tea, every part of his body malfunctioning and leaving him with only one thing for sure: in his entire existence, this was the first time he was left completely and utterly speechless.

Your warm and comforting eyes turned to him, and you grabbed his cup of tea to put it alongside yours on the coffee table. “Neuvillette,” you spoke his name as if it was a piece of poetry you were yet to learn — eager to do so, “Talk to me.”

And then— your hands, so small and fragile if compared to his, touched him. Your fingers traced his, and you embraced his hand between yours. He could feel the warmth of your skin contrasting against his cold one, pulling him closer, closer, closer.

“When did you figure it out?” was the first thing he said, scared it may be recent. If so, there still is time for you to run, for you to escape. To turn your back and never see him again. It’s probably the best for you, he knows, but this little selfish part in him can’t stand the thought of seeing you gone.

“A month ago or so, it doesn't matter,” you’re quick to cut the subject. “I didn't mention it because I knew you didn't want me to. I’m just worried, that's all.”

Worried.

She is worried.

The realization clicks in Neuvillette’s mind, for the first time in so long acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, he was too, deserving of someone’s concern and care.

“You are saying it does not matter,” he repeats as if to confirm what he just heard.

I pushed you because I cared about you. I pushed you because you made me feel good and comfortable. I pushed you because I thought my true self would frighten you.

Yet, you’re here. And you’re telling me it doesn’t matter.

“It doesn’t. Never did,” you frown. “I just wanna know, no— I need to know why it is raining, Neuvillette. Why would you weep? I’m here with you, talk to me.”

Without giving it a second thought, Neuvillette’s right hand finds your lower back and in a split second you're pressed against his chest, the tightest hug you have ever been given. He’s much taller than you, and you can feel perfectly as he inhales your scent and hugs you tightly.

“Neuv—”

“I thought I had to restrain myself from you. I thought I was no good,” he finally speaks his mind, distancing himself enough for you to see his face; the weeping Dragon. Oh, the melancholy in his eyes.

The eyes of someone who almost lost something precious.

“Neuvillette,” you whispered. “There’s nothing better for me than you.”

And it was true; so you pulled on his hair just enough to have him connecting your lips, a sigh of relief escaping him as if there was nothing in this world he had anticipated more.

#wbysaber #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #fontaine #neuvillette x you #neuvilette #neuvilette x reader #fanfic #oneshot #drabble #imagine

[slashmagpie]

∞

I finally ask you how your day went You say you lost your favourite patient While I was working on a masterpiece no one will ever hear I can't help but think, "What the hell is it that I'm even doing here?

- Favourite Patient, Bear's Den

Ask game!

#magpie songs #this song fucking wrecks me man. #the way the vocals stop after 'you say you lost your favourite patient' and it's just the piano... #ough... #it's about that like. futility you feel sometimes as an artist. #there are people out there doing important stuff with real world impacts and i'm here making my silly little art. #and you just hope that art has some kind of positive impact on the world. that you do something however small. that you make someone happy. #chills every time. TEARS every time. #i hope i can help in some way.... #i hope i can help in some small way.