#they closed the chapter on stardust to open it for this. please. please | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yandecifi · 2 months ago

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What It Means to Be Made of Stardust

☆ chapter seven

⋆ masterlist

⋆ cw: child abuse, sa, mental illness

hawks/reader, psychological, wip longfic

Swaddled in the sheets your mother was in last night, you hide. It’s full in the apartment. The air mattress is too soft, it needs to be pumped with air, but you don’t know how.

When you first woke up, you wandered all throughout the living room, the kitchenette, the bathroom, even your father’s bedroom. You opened closets. The apartment filled up, and up, and up.

There was no breakfast sitting on the table or coffee being made. Your mother’s shoes were gone. That was five hours ago. You stuff the blankets in your mouth, it hurts to breathe.

Hawks giggles like a schoolgirl as he shoves you away from the door of some janitorial closet. To your glee, you manage to squeeze through just as he slams it shut. He screams when he sees you’ve followed him inside, crashes into a shelf full of spray bottles and cardboard boxes.

“Ahah, don’t hurt me!”

The grin on your face burns. You’re supposed to hit him back, tickle him or something, but you can’t bring yourself to touch him. You’ll throw up, start squealing, or piss yourself, maybe. You don’t want to find out.

Hawks peeks out from the arms covering his face, his eyes glimmering. It’s just the two of you surrounded by mops, squeegees, brooms, and dustpans. Shelves line the walls, a mop sink in one corner with a hose. You have the idea to spray him with it but that might be taking it a bit too far.

“You’re not gonna get revenge?” Hawks snickers, pulling your attention back to him and his teasing. “Guess you can’t really do much anyway, you got twig arms—”

You smack him on the shoulder. “Ah, shut—”

“ Ahhh, shut up !” He starts giggling again. He pitches his voice high and squeaky, waves his hands in the air. “ Shut up, stop it, Hawks !”

“Shut—” You groan. Your face is really on fire now. “Whatever!”

“ Ugh, whatever !”

You kick him in the shin. He drops to his knees, clutching his leg, his laughter ceasing.

“Oh, shut up, Hawks. That didn’t hurt.”

“So mean to me! I just had an injury there, y’know.” He rubs his shin. “Owie.”

You chew on your lip. You lean down with an apology on your tongue, but you’re bonked on the head instead.

“Got you.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“How original.”

“Shut up!”

“Telling me that clearly isn’t working.”

Your hands slap against your face, rushing to hide yourself away. He’s such a fucking prick. His laugh is like a melody.

“Sorry, sorry.” Hands wrap around your wrists. His hands. He tugs them away from you and you can do nothing to resist. “I’ll stop.”

You can barely feel your fingers with how much they’re tingling. Your heart literally feels like it’s in your throat. He could kill you right now and you would be too caught up in all this to even care.

His hands remain around your wrists, warm, fantastical. You stare at your feet, somewhere between a poorly contained smile and a bashful frown.

“You’re always so shy with me.” He leans in to try and catch you with his grin. He probably doesn’t know that that just makes it harder for you to look at him. “Why?”

“I’m not shy.”

“Oh, please.”

“Shut up.”

He releases one of your wrists to pinch your side. You yelp, jump away from him, but he just yanks you right back with a laugh. He’s close enough that you could touch his shoulders or chest if you wanted. You could hug him, kiss him.

You want to hug him so badly. You want him to hug you. You want to be hugged.

You can also see that he has a bit of a snaggle tooth, a pointy canine that’s slightly pushed out from the rest. You never saw that in all the official posts or fan accounts you’ve poured over.

He has a little snaggle tooth and you’re the only one that knows.

“I didn’t know you could make noises like that,” Hawks says, grinning, always so happy with himself.

“What the hell does that even mean?” You rub your side with your free hand, trying to look angry. He knows you aren’t. He always knows. “I’m — I need to go finish my offboarding stuff. Okay?”

You pull away from him, free your wrist from his grasp, push down your disappointment. He sighs dramatically.

“Okaaay. Have fun. My manager’s probably looking for me by now, anyway.”

“Like always.”

You turn away and turn the door handle only for it to jam. You try it again. It’s locked from the inside.

The closet is full.

You fumble to unlock the handle and slip out of the closet.

☆

An old man sits at your new desk while you stare at him from beneath your freshly cleaned covers. He has sharp eyes, the kind that make you think he doesn’t like much of anything, but you know him better than that. His chin has that dark stubble he always has, they’re tendrils of an ancient plant poking out of his skin. His hair is black like fat vines dipped in oil, it drapes and drips down his shoulders in the same way. If you cut him open all you’d see is branches, brittle black branches, his skin would have so many rings on the inside there’d be no rings at all. He looks at you and he’s as still as the trees he’s made of. His teeth are made of pale mushrooms, his eyes fuzzy with black mold.

Aizawa stands from the desk chair and goes to turn off the lights.

It’s worse in the dark. He mixes into it. The chair squeaks as he sits back down. When you’re peering into the darkness like this your eyes feel like moons.

Hawks has soft curls in his hair. You brush them back from his forehead as he naps. His breath fans against your neck.

“You’re having trouble sleeping.” The frown on your face deepens. Aizawa has a habit of saying things you don’t want to hear. “Try closing your eyes instead of glaring at me.”

“The staple was an accident.”

It’s too dark to see what he’s doing but he doesn’t respond. It’s a dry sort of silence.

“Can you at least turn the lights back on?”

The chair squeaks again and the bedroom door is opened. The hallway of Aizawa’s home is filled with light, it spills into this guest room and turns the carpet yellow. You sit up. He’s left the room, the door ajar, in silence.

You close your fingers around the covers, rub against the fabric. Spit gathers in your open mouth.

He returns a couple moments later. He lumbers towards you and your blankets, the ceiling brushing the top of his head. Smaller and smaller you become the closer he gets; you keel over. You’re in a box. He plugs a simple, little nightlight with a fabric lampshade into the wall.

It glows by his cradling hands as he fidgets with it and the outlet. All Might is embroidered on the front. He’s smiling and flexing his muscles.

“Is that better?” Aizawa asks, the side of his face lit by the nightlight. His skin writhes and wriggles with something beneath. His eyes narrow. “I thought you were afraid of the dark.”

The two of you end up in his living room, sitting on his couch, both of you with glasses of water. You make a point to sit on the opposite end of the couch from him. He takes a sip from his glass, flipping through channels on his TV. A late night talk show, the news, some kind of ad for drain cleaner.

“What do you watch?” He asks, and you curl up a little more.

“Never really watched TV.”

He grunts. You watch his slow blinks at the screen as he considers. He has black cat slippers on with bright yellow eyes, their soles worn.

“Do you like animals?”

You shrug. “I guess.”

His thumb presses the remote again, again, and again. A rather tragic moment in a drama, more news, a documentary on the deep sea. He puts the remote down on the coffee table. The narrator is going over gulper eels.

“Drink.”

Aizawa nods at your untouched glass. It’s crystal clear, the water laps at the lip of the cup like a lake. You tilt the water back and forth, watch it move. Aizawa reaches over and grasps your cup by the top, all the while watching the documentary. You slowly put it down. He lets go. You fidget with your fingers instead.

Aizawa’s living room isn’t what you imagined; he has children’s toys littered on the floor next to a rather tall, beige cat tower for his cat that you haven’t seen yet. His name is Kitty. You get the feeling he doesn’t like you (animals know bad people) but Aizawa said he’s just a bit of a diva.

There’s an open closet that contains a stacked washing machine and dryer with a litter box stuffed in there, somehow, and there are shelves on the walls lined with little trinkets, books, gifts, and pictures. Shoes are left in a cluttered heap by his front door. His boots, sneakers, his second pair of sneakers, your shoes. Little sandals and little crocs and little ballerina flats. His fridge has the ripped out page of a coloring book stuck to the door with magnets, an artsy flamingo all scribbled in with the rainbow.

You stick out in his home in a different way than Hawks’. Hawks’ place is empty of him aside from certain drawers, his fridge, his closet, and the boots he leaves by his front door. Everything is spick and span, every expensive table, counter, and shelf left lonely. He has rooms he never goes in. Your clothes on his designer carpets make everything dreamy. Your school bag on his couch, his soft towels in your hands and wrapped around you. Hawks said you brought life to the place, filled up the spots he couldn’t.

Aizawa’s home is full. There’s no room for you left. His home smells like nothing in particular and he has a TV.

An angler fish stares at you from the screen. It’s ugly, somewhere between violet and shit brown with rows of needle teeth that gnarl in different directions. It looks like it was born with cataracts.

“I’m sorry for frightening you. I should have told you I was getting the nightlight.”

You would turn to look at Aizawa, to speak with him normally and politely, but something tells you to keep staring at the fish.

“You didn’t frighten me.”

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable,” he corrects. You can almost see his dry expression.

“It’s fine.” You don’t have the energy to argue. “Sorry.”

You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s his own fault, sticking his nose in your business.

The angler fish has found a mate. The mate is smaller, so much smaller. It looks more like a parasite when it latches onto the bigger one. It turns out that not only does it look like a parasite, it acts like one, too.

You finally manage to glance at Aizawa. He’s lounging comfortably on his side of the couch, an arm draped over the back while he holds his half-finished water, eyes squinted at the fish.

“I’ve worked with a lot of students. There have been plenty that caused more trouble. I can think of several in your class.” He sets his glass down on the coffee table. “You’re okay. You’re a good kid.”

A good kid. Hawks says that a lot, how you’re so smart, so kind.

“If I was a good kid I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Aizawa sighs. The narrator is talking about the dumbo octopus. It floats around stupidly on screen. Aizawa doesn’t want to tell you he thinks you’re crazy.

At this moment, sitting on your teacher’s couch late at night because all the adults around you have decided you just can’t be alone anymore, you get deja vu. You’ve been here before, or perhaps you’re here but sitting a little to the left, or to the right. Your hands are heavier or lighter. Maybe you drank the water or you spilled it, or both. You’re on top of your teacher or beneath.

His eyes are seedy, beady, black, moldy. He’s staring at you from the corner of his eye, he’s not focused on the documentary, he never was.

“...Aizawa?”

A little voice calls from the hall. Your head snaps in its direction.

It’s a child. Her long, silver hair is braided back in loose pigtails. She’s wearing matching pajamas, an oversized shirt and shorts with a unicorn pattern. It’s Eri, taller than last you saw her, a little bit older. How old is she now? Nine? Ten? When you were that old, you were cleaning up your dad’s vomit, not trembling in unicorn pajamas. She looks between you and your teacher.

“Did you have another nightmare?” Aizawa asks gruffly, standing from the couch. He walks over and kneels in front of her. “My student was having trouble sleeping, too. Do you want to make bubbles?”

Aizawa fucks her. You shut your eyes, grit your teeth. People call those things handlebars. He probably does, too. You grab your arm and press your nails into your skin.

You open your eyes. The two of them are holding their breath, cheeks puffed out. Aizawa pokes his fat cheek. Eri giggles. He blows out the bubble and so does she. They repeat, and repeat, and repeat, until Eri isn’t shaking anymore.

“Can I get a book?” She whispers, like Aizawa would break if she spoke too loudly. Eri hazards a glance at you and doesn’t like what she sees. You’ve never really spoken to her, but that shouldn’t be what makes her shoulders shrink. Maybe it's the staples.

“Of course.” Aizawa stands back up as she goes to fetch her book. He sits back down on the couch. He’s back to staring at you. “We’ll return to this conversation once I get Eri back to bed.”

You swallow. The narrator drones on and on. You have the urge to grab the TV remote and turn it off, but you don’t. You never do much of anything, do you?

Eri returns and sits next to Aizawa. She sits criss-cross, her knee touching his, reading her little novel and thumbing the pages. You stare at her shorts and then rip your eyes away. You stare at her tiny body next to his, how he’s so much bigger and taller. Aizawa and her are visceral.

He should be beating her. He should be pulling her up by the hair and yelling in her face, asking her why she’s not in bed, telling her to shut the fuck up. He should be bashing her face into the wall while she screams at him to stop. He should be holding her down against the floor and telling her she can’t do anything to stop it. She should be picking glass out of her leg. Your heart races.

But she’s leaning against him and reading and he’s watching TV. You swallow, stare at where they’re touching. Is he hard?

Eri has the smallest nose. She nibbles on her bottom lip, focused on the page, her eyes are still red from what must have been tears. She isn’t reading. She starts rocking back and forth a little.

Unicorn pajamas. Get a fucking grip.

She’s worse at breakfast. Aizawa tells you she has PTSD, go figure, and to just let him deal with her. You woke up on the couch with a blanket over you. Aizawa is making star shaped pancakes with Eri while you sit at the table. A bowl of strawberries, painkillers, and a fork has been set in front of you. You don’t deserve to eat them.

Aizawa touches her. He pets her head, preens her hair, pinches her cheek, pats her back.

Aizawa’s dinner table is small, more of a desk. It has a vase of LEGO flowers in the middle next to a wilting dandelion in a mug. He has placemats, a total of four laid out on the table, most of them fabric with solid color or stripes. There’s one that’s plastic, pastel pink, with cute drawings of fruits.

You finally see Kitty, too. He’s eating from a metal bowl in the kitchen. You watch him munch away. He’s all black and rather thin, his shoulder blades protruding sharply from his back. Aizawa said he’s just an old man.

“Good job. Can you go put that in the sink?”

“Yeah!”

The smell of pancakes is sweet and delicate. You can kind of hear them sizzling. Through the kitchen windows are dark, fleshy gray clouds. Eri looks like she’s having a good time, lost in the joy of pancakes. You sit and watch them.

Aizawa hasn’t sighed.

When they sit down, the star pancakes steaming on your plate, you can’t bear to eat them. Aizawa asks you if you don’t like pancakes. They have maple syrup drizzled on top. There’s a slice of butter melting in the middle. Eri eats them with the biggest smile on her face. She was better last night.

The pancakes are more beautiful than anything you know. Aizawa puts your fork in your hand and, grim as the windows, orders you to eat.

☆

Your head pounds.

Hound Dog licks his lips. A clipboard with a questionnaire is sitting on your lap, a pen in hand, and you can’t read.

The words make sense. They do, truly, you can say each individual word in your head, but when you try to string them together into a sentence everything washes away. You reread the first question. What the hell.

The bell rings and you slap your hands over your ears. Your classmates’ burst into chatter is secondary to the ringing that, now, only you can hear. It bounces around your skull, threatens to burst your eardrums. Denki gives you a weird look as he passes your desk. He hasn’t spoken to you today.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hunker down, rock slightly in your chair. It’s pulsing. You can feel your head squelch and pulsate and that booming ring pop every staple. Your eyes are going to explode out of their sockets and onto the table.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The meaningless lunch table conversations have less substance than usual today. You smile.

“The rain is nice.”

Everyone looks at you. Mina animatedly nods her head. Sero’s chopsticks poke at his noodles. Kirishima agrees with an odd laugh.

“It’s annoying,” Bakugo grumbles. “My sneakers got soaked this morning.”

“Yeah, saw you with the hair dryer earlier. You looked pretty stupid.”

“Ah, shut up, Dunceface.”

“How’s Hawks?”

“Hawks?” You stutter, face scrunched up at Mina. “He’s fine. Probably, I don’t know, I haven’t really seen him.”

Your hands don’t look like your own. Mina’s face is… well, it’s Mina, but you’re not supposed to be here.

“Oh. Huh. You guys don’t talk as much?”

“No, he—” you smile. “What?”

Aizawa’s car idles outside of Eri’s elementary school. You’re sitting in the front passenger’s seat, legs crossed, nails digging into each other. He went to go get her because of the downpour. There’s so many kids hiding from the rain beneath trees and umbrellas, their parents running up to them. There’s a trash bag stuffed with some of your clothes sitting in the trunk. Aizawa hasn’t told you whether they’ve decided to expel you yet or not, but he did tell you to start bringing your things over. Denki asked you if you were finally cleaning your room and you shoved him to the floor.

Aizawa’s holding Eri’s hand and shielding her from the rain with a black umbrella. He slouches a little so that she can reach his hand. He opens the door for her and she crawls into the backseat wearing frog rain boots.

The drive to Eri’s therapist is long. She babbles about her classes and a friend she made, mentions that the lunch Aizawa made her was really good. He nods along, his expression as plain as always. Hawks has the softest smile whenever you talk.

After he drops her off at what looks to be an office building, he takes the two of you further into the city. She’s only going to be in therapy for a little over an hour, so he wants to get some food with you. It’s then that you realize, to your horror and elation, that you’re in Fukuoka. Aizawa takes you to a KFC.

“Looking for somebody?” He says, as you crane your head up to the sky. The two of you are sitting outside, chicken legs in hand, licking them clean. Your fingers are greasy with oil. Crunch, crunch, crunch.

“No.”

“You’re terrible at lying.”

You nibble at the bone in your hand. “Maybe I just act that way so that you think I’m a bad liar, but I’m actually not.”

Aizawa sets a clean leg down and picks up a fresh one. “How clever.”

“The rain doesn’t bother you?”

“It’s hardly even sprinkling.”

You shrug. Passersby show little interest in the two of you; you’re wearing your favorite hoodie and refuse to take the hood off. With it on, you’re just a high schooler out with their Dad.

Is that what people see when they look at you? None of them know. To them, none of this has happened and you don’t exist. If you were them, you would be walking your dog in the afternoon with earbuds in instead of whatever this is.

How can they do that? It’s so very hard to own a dog. You have to get a job that pays well enough for an apartment, furniture, food, electricity, water, internet, phone bill, the dog itself, vet appointments, dog food, toys, food and water bowls, and grooming. In order to get that job, you need an education, experience, a resume, references, social skills, presentable clothes, transportation, an email and phone number. On top of that, you need the time to play with the dog, feed it, and walk it. You have to have the energy to do that, the time management skills, the freedom. You have to wake up, make yourself breakfast, eat breakfast, brush your teeth, change into work clothes, feed the dog, go to work, come back home, shower, make dinner, eat dinner, feed the dog, brush your teeth, take the dog for a walk, clean your home, do the laundry, play with the dog. How do people own dogs with responsibility that immense and constant?

“I’m sorry I’ve been put with you guys.”

Aizawa looks up from his food and stops chewing. He looks a little silly with the grease on his chin. He swallows.

“I offered. Don’t worry about it.”

He’s right. He did offer, and this whole thing is kind of his fault anyway.

No, it’s not.

But if he didn’t call, if he just left you alone like everybody else, if he just let you deal with it like you have with every other hurt you’ve been given, would Dad still be here?

Maybe the two of you could have made up. It’s happened before, not perfectly, but you’ve said sorry and he’s sighed and nodded and cracked a beer open. Once, you were sitting at the dinner table and sipping miso soup. It was one in the morning; you had just gotten back from the park because it was too cold to sleep. Your Dad came out of his room, got water, and stood behind you. He sighed. He patted you on the back. His hands were thick and old and you realized his hands were warm.

It was never that serious, anyway. You got hurt and shit sucked but you never ended up in the hospital. You never had your consciousness dripping out your nose. If the police hadn’t come, if Aizawa hadn’t called, then you would’ve just left and walked to a grocery store and looked at the colorful packaging of instant noodles. You would’ve cried a little, hid in a bathroom or two, then made it back to campus, somehow. Dad would call you and you would yell at each other until you couldn’t anymore.

But, no, you’re sitting outside a KFC in the city. Your teacher’s in front of you, a thousand strangers talking, walking, and holding hands, and there’s no good reason as to why.

“Is my Dad’s trial soon?”

“About a month from now, I believe.”

“Fun.”

He has a month. The apartment and all of his stuff won’t be there for much longer. All his things will go to a storage unit and then into auction and somebody, somewhere, will have a bathroom rug with bloodstains. Somebody else will move in and the holes punched into the walls will knock down their rent.

“You seem to be handling that relatively well.”

You wipe your hands on a napkin, crinkle it between your fingers.

“It’s whatever. Was gonna happen eventually.” A fat drop of rain lands on your nose. You lick it when it travels to your lips. Dad never got food you liked but the point is when he ordered takeout, there was a portion for you. “Probably.”

Aizawa’s chest rises and falls with yet another deep sigh. It’s like every word that leaves your mouth exasperates him.

“I’m trying to tell you I’m worried.”

“Well, I’m good — different, with this sort of thing.”

“Is that so?”

Aizawa blinks lazily at you. His lips twitch when you roll your eyes.

“Yeah—” You freeze. A red feather darts between footfall and swinging purses, a little worker drone, listening and watching. “Uuuhhh.”

“What?”

You drag your eyes to the roofs high above you. There are sparkling skyscrapers and balky brick buildings that refuse to be demolished; you’re searching for a silhouette peering over their ledges, or perhaps dangling legs. There are none.

You release a shaky breath.

“Nothing.”

But Aizawa tilts his head up anyway. There’s nothing there, really, there isn’t. Still, you grip the edge of your seat. Your fingers worm around somewhere beneath.

He always knows where you are in the apartment.

You lower your head, tell off the shakes. You yearn. You want people backwards. Aizawa’s staring at you.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yep. Sorry. Are you done?”

You blink a lot and stare at the table but not really. The issue with you is that you’re just like Hawks.

Aizawa throws your trash away for you and the two of you pick up Eri. Aizawa spends some time speaking with the therapist. You wonder if, had your parents done all the things he does, would you have turned out differently? Would you be pretty the way Mina is? Would you fall asleep when you’re tired? Would your mom give your classmates fried chicken? But you want to lick blood off of your arm, you want somebody to choke you.

There are cicadas outside.

It’s a constant buzz. Buzz, buzz, buzz. That. They’re somewhere outside in the black.

You’re on Aizawa’s phone. Your eyes hurt. The screen is too bright but you can’t turn it any lower. You’re reading through blogs and forums.

Is this what true love feels like?

Top 10 Ways to Know if a Guy Likes You!

Advice on ten year age gap :/ thanks.

Well, you feel like you're floating around Hawks, too. He winks at you and tries to make you laugh and calls you cute. Yours and his is seven, but a lotta people are saying ten is okay, so seven shouldn’t be a big deal.

He has to like you with the way he looks at you. He looks so happy, his eyes twinkle, his cheeks dimple. It’s hypnotic.

Why someone like you makes somebody like him look anything like that, you haven’t the slightest clue. It’s so bizarre that you dare to think that maybe you’re not someone like you, not you, you’re some other you that he’s hallucinating from every stretch you’ve let him see and cry you’ve let him hear. You’re wonderful in his eyes. You see her in the joy there.

She likes energy drinks and going fast, likes his jokes and every other word that comes out of his mouth. She doesn’t like her Dad, she cries in bathroom stalls because of him, comes into patrol shy and quiet because of him. She doesn’t like other people, she doesn’t seem to get what it is that’s supposed to hold them together, but he’s the same and he can tell she knows that and she knows that he knows because when their tongues touch they feel. She’s something bittersweet, a melancholy candy.

You don’t know what you’re like. You’re proving to yourself you’re better than the rest of the garbage lying in your living room by being better, best, bestest. Other than that, you just got here. That’s all you were meant to do. All you wanted was out and away but now that you got there (here?) you have nowhere else to go. You never thought you’d make it or is it that ten years later, you still can’t imagine life any different? You could wear glossy pumps and eat croissants if you really wanted to. You don’t. You lie with garbage.

You roll out of bed and walk out of Aizawa’s guest room. There’s running water in the hallway bathroom. It’s something like one in the morning. Kitty watches you from the couch as you walk through the front door. You almost stepped on a little rain boot getting your sneakers on. I fucking hate her.

The cicadas are just as loud out here as they were in there. You run down Aizawa’s neighborhood street and just keep running. This is dumb. But he’s looking, watching you from the dark, always rooted in place, leering —

And he talks too much. You never would’ve thought to describe your teacher that way, but it’s true. He looks you in the eye and asks you if you’ve taken your meds, if you slept well on the couch, if you’re hungry and want to get KFC.

There’s a playground surrounded by a chain fence just across the street you’re on. You jog across the asphalt and climb the fence, land on wood chips and rubber. It’s quiet except for the occasional car. You lay down on the slide, eyes heavy, legs burning.

Eri looks happy, not always, but often. She isn’t like you. It’s obvious by the way she babbles to Aizawa. That, and she stays.

There’s something inherently wrong with you. Something from birth, from conception. That or something happened to you along the way, you got ruined by that apartment.

It doesn’t matter. You’ve been over this, had these thoughts, sneered at Midoriya enough. It’s nobody’s fault but yours and had you killed yourself, this wouldn’t be happening. You were just too scared.

You’re always too scared.

A flashlight sears through your eyes. Your hands come rushing up to cover your face and you curl into a ball, cursing.

“Get up.”

You sit up and manage a squint at the light. It’s Aizawa. He’s standing in his pajamas at the foot of the slide.

“What the hell?”

“That’s what I should be saying. Get up.”

“How — I — I’ll just come back in the morning, okay?”

“That’s not the point. It’s late. Get up.”

You don’t budge. Aizawa clicks the flashlight off. You twitch in the slide, fingernails wedging themselves into the cracks of the plastic.

“Okay, so we’re doing this.” He sits down on the mulch at your feet, slowly, like he’s old. It strikes you that he sort of is. “Let's talk about it.”

“Can you not be so dramatic?” You spit, darting your eyes around the playground and to your teacher below you. “I mean, not that I’m trying to talk, but can’t you just sit on, like — the swingset?”

He thinks for a moment. “I’ll go if you sit there with me.”

“Jeez,” you mutter. “Just get up.”

The swing set is old. It creaks a little when Aizawa sits on it. You push around a little on yours, kick your feet at the dirt. You never learned how to swing. Your eyes wander around the playground.

“Can you tell me why you ran out of the house?”

Your attention snaps back to your teacher. He hangs loosely in his swing, legs too long to do much else but let him linger over the soil.

“I didn’t run.”

“Right. So you just walked, then? Or skipped?”

You roll your eyes. “I walked.”

“Okay, then can you tell me why you walked out of the house?”

“Can we just pretend this didn’t happen? I’ve literally only spent like five minutes out here.”

“It’s more like nine minutes and thirty-something seconds. And, answer the question.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You totally made that up.”

“Does it matter?”

Your throat always starts constricting in conversations like these. You keep taking deep breaths but it gives momentary relief. Still, you huff, armpits slick with sweat.

You dig the toe of your shoe into the ground, scrape, doodle.

“It’s nothing important,” you mumble. Aizawa turns his head to you.

“So, something is going on.”

The twisting and turning in your stomach gets worse and worse.

“No.”

“You can be honest with me. Does it have to do with your father or the recent situation?”

You roll the chains of the swing between your fingers. They’re rough, porous, they catch on your calloused palms.

“No. I don’t know why I said that. I’m just tired.”

Irreversible. You’re the food in the fridge you hope to eat, the food that’s somehow rotted in the time you spent away. You cut off the bad parts and eat anyway but that doesn’t change anything, it’s still too late, you still get sick, it’s still rotten. You remember this and your face warms, you grit your teeth, curl into yourself.

“It’s very obvious to me that something is bothering you,” Aizawa says softly. “Concerning me, specifically, and I’d like to know what that is so that I can make you more comfortable.”

“There’s nothing. I just ran out because I was mad. Or, you know what, maybe I had a PTSD attack or something. Maybe I hallucinated you were gonna rape me. You can pick whichever one makes the most sense to you.”

The words punch through the air and hang there in such a way that even you can’t help but grimace. Aizawa, meanwhile, has gone exceptionally quiet. No grumbling, no scoffs, not even the usual sigh he breathes every time you fall into his line of sight.

“Oh my God, it’s a fucking joke.”

The cicadas have long since been drowned out by your heartbeat. You look over at Aizawa and he’s looking right back. Your face twists.

“What?” You scoff, wrenching yourself right back to your shoes and the dirt. “Can you stop making this weird?”

He takes a breath that seems to reanimate him.

“I’ve been sitting with you while you sleep because Hound Dog told me to keep line of sight. It’s just a precaution taken because we’re worried you might hurt yourself again.” Aizawa stands from the swing. It creaks, long, hurt. “Let's head back.”

Aizawa lets you sleep on the couch instead of the guest room. You close your eyes and listen to the sounds he makes crawling about the house.

#bnha fanfiction #fanfic #mha fanfiction #angst #hawks fanfic #hawks x reader

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sl-walker · 9 months ago

Text

Today in Lines I Loved Writing

From the second chapter of Stardust:

“Heads up!” Ted shouted, cheerily, swinging off of a catwalk like some kind of acrobat, only to smack Random Henchman #3 -- on a shelf below him beside an open crate -- in the middle of his back with both boots, which--

--sent him flying down right into Booster’s outstretched arm, who clotheslined him neatly, saving him from a potentially bone-crunching meeting with the floor. “And down!” The henchman dropped in a heap with a grunt and wheeze. Booster winced, looking down at the guy. “Oooh, might wanna watch the face, those ski-masks aren’t really much protection.”

Random Henchman #5 was running for the doors after #4 tripped and tumbled, because it had frankly only taken three minutes of chasing them around the warehouse to take most of them down. “Grab him?” Ted asked, sounded surprisingly winded, and Booster glanced down at the guy he’d just dropped before taking off after the one running.

It was a quick collar -- literally! -- and just so he wouldn’t have to babysit, Booster hoisted and hung that guy off of a pulley by the leather belt he was wearing before flying back to make sure #3 and #4 were still subdued along with the others.

In the meantime, the Blue Beetle wasn’t looking so good even in the dim light; he was still hanging from the catwalk and something about his pallor was alarming. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Booster asked, wasting no time flying over there.

Ted’s skin was sweaty where it was exposed, and up close, he was clearly having an incredibly hard time holding himself up. “Heart. Ride down?” he panted, and sagged with a grateful sounding sigh when Booster took his weight and he could let go of the catwalk. “I’ll be okay,” he said, shivering. “Just need to lay down.”

Booster was less convinced, but he landed them soft and didn’t let his alarm show when Ted literally stretched out on the floor of the warehouse, thumping against his chest with the side of his fist.

“--should I tie them up?” Booster asked, even as he hit his wrist-comm. “Skeets, call the police, send ‘em to our position? Then hone in on my position and get here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yeah, please,” Ted said, though he had picked up his head and was watching; he beamed despite looking like hell. “Do I get to meet your robot?!”

Booster smiled, shaking his head, and went to go figure out how to secure their random henchpeople. “Your lucky night. Hey, do you have anything I can use as handcuffs?”

Ted fished something out of that thigh holster, then held up a handful of zip ties that were sticking out of his fist like porcupine quills. “These work?”

“You came to a bust with zip ties? And while I’m at it, do you actually keep a gun in there, or is it just like your all-purpose junk drawer?”

“Actually, I do have a gun! It’s called the BB gun, because I’m clever like that.” Ted let his head rest back on the floor and took a slower, more even-sounding breath. “But yeah, I also stick random stuff in there because I don’t have pockets. It’s got pouches in its pouch,” he added, with a snicker. “Like a Liefeld comic.”

Booster didn’t get the reference, but he did happen to think the word pouch was funny, which was why he was giggling like a twelve-year-old as he zip-tied their disgruntled henchfolk. “And don’t want any civilian games of guess that lump?”

“Give the man a cookie!”

“I’ll settle for some all-night diner pancakes, but if a cookie’s all I’m getting for saving your butt--”

“It’ll be one of those really big cookies.”

“They do make some impressively sized baked goods in this era,” Skeets said, zipping through the half-open man door. “Also, the police will be here in approximately forty-five seconds.”

“Skeets!” Booster grinned, then nodded back towards where Ted was sitting up gingerly. “Your new biggest fan ever wants to meet you.”

Skeets paused for a moment mid-air, a barely noticeable hesitation, then flew over to hover in front of Ted, offering a cordial, “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Blue Beetle.”

Ted made a noise that Booster might’ve ascribed to an overly excited young dog being shown a new toy. Like-- maybe a verbal flail of excitement, if that was a thing. Then he said, “You are so cool. Booster! I’ll buy the pancakes if the ‘bot comes with us!”

Booster sat back on his heels and watched, even as the sound of vehicles roaring up outside filtered in; something about the scene -- Ted sitting there in wide-eyed wonder and Skeets hovering at eye level -- grabbed him by the heart. Good, mixed. “Blueberry pancakes?” he asked, rising to his feet so he could go lead the cops in.

“Pal, I’ll get you the whole damn blueberry bush.”

“Deal!”

Why I loved writing them: OMG, the dialogue. I've had the fortune of occasionally having pairs of characters who, if you give them even the barest kind of space, will take a scene and run away with it. And writing Booster and Beetle is just like that; one of them starts, the other builds on it, and then they just keep going, rolling it along and chasing it down the road.

So, I had fun having Ted taking a potshot at Rob Liefeld because I cut my teeth on comics in the 90s and don't even get me started. For all those fans out there who might be unfamiliar, Liefeld's not like-- the only reason 90s comics are just Like That, but he was a big contributor of it. Like, I really can draw a very clear, unambiguous line between Cable's design and Booster's look post-Overmaster arc. It's not even subtle. So, everyone who ever squinted at that really godawful run of really bad design, you almost have to blame it on Liefeld.

Ahem. Anyway. The other part is the whole bit--

“Give the man a cookie!”

“I’ll settle for some all-night diner pancakes, but if a cookie’s all I’m getting for saving your butt--”

“It’ll be one of those really big cookies.”

--starting with that. It's not the first example of those two kind of 'yes, and'ing' each other in the story, their introduction to each other was the first, but it serves as a good illustration of their easy patter and ability to build on one another. And there's something super charming about them basically turning a joking bit of banter into a decision to go out to eat together, which leads to them spending almost the whole day together, which--

I've also had friendships like that, albeit without the unresolved romantic tension. But where you just enjoy the other person's company so much that you don't want to let them go. LOL! @b-radley66 can attest. @shadowmaat can, too. And many, many other people over the years.

And finally, I just also really love the mental image of Ted and Skeets meeting, just as much as I love Booster's reaction to it.

#booster gold #blue beetle #skeets #michael carter #ted kord #stardust

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itsthesinbin · 3 months ago

Text

Sins in Stardust [Chapter 4: DamsBill in Distress] (Bill Cipher/Reader)

This wasn't originally chapter 4, but I felt I needed a buffer between the last chapter and a plot chapter. So sorry in advance if there's a little disconnect between 4 and 5. I tried to edit 5 to feel more cohesive tho! Feedback always appreciated <3

If you like it, reblog it!

Read on AO3 here!

---------------------

You woke up the next day feeling like you were hit by a truck. A three hour hike plus having to walk through town wore you both the fuck out. You two decided to argue about bed arrangements later and just passed out last night. You didn’t consider the idea that Bill would be attached to your head like a clingy cat. Him snoring directly in your ear didn’t help much. He’d be kinda cute if he wasn’t a little asshole.

You grabbed your phone, blearily checking the time. It was half past 2. You figured you’d sleep in late, but damn. You also had a few notifications- texts and missed calls. You knew who they were from. You should ignore them- delete them- but curiosity got the better of you. You opened the text from the supposedly unknown number. You knew what the texts would be before you even opened it.

I miss you, please call me.

I didn’t mean what I said.

You know how I get on a bad day.

You shouldn’t have kept pushing me.

If you come back, we can go to therapy like you wanted.

You’re heartless for just leaving me like that.

“Wow, they sound like a fun time.” You nearly jumped out of your skin when Bill spoke. You immediately closed your phone. Bill sat up, stretching. You got up as well to get ready for the day. Bill was lounging as he watched you search for clothes and toiletries.

“So, clingy ex huh? Been there, done that- relationships are annoying and time consuming! And light consuming- don’t date a howling void if you know what’s good for ya.” You paused before sighing. He already saw the texts. You knew he wasn’t stupid. You already felt like going back to sleep. You grabbed some of your camping food out of your bags, tossing some to Bill.

“Yeah, clingy’s a word to use. I wasn’t happy, so I left. The guy was a piece of shit.” That’s all you wanted to say on the matter for now. Bill watched as you headed for the bathroom to change.

“He the type to come after you? Should we expect some unwanted company?” You… didn’t think about that. Bill could tell you didn’t think about that, either, from the way your body sagged. You thought you were so clever and independent. Bill looked off to the side for a second, before back at you. He waved his hand.

“Eh, coward like that is probably just pissing his pants at home! Forget about him, kid.” You huffed out a small laugh. You gathered your clothes and bathroom items and headed to change, giving him a quiet thanks. He just gave a thumbs up in response, opening up the bag of jerky he had. You left him channel surfing to go change.

You were barely able to get dressed before you heard glass breaking and him speaking. Then yelling at someone to get out. You got the door open when you began to hear fighting. A bunch of… small men… had broken the window. Some tore into the food, while others surrounded Bill. They were grabbing at him, angrily kicking and biting. One of them spotted you.

“WE’RE SPOTTED! GET HIM AND GET OUT!” “LET GO OF ME YOU LITTLE FREAKS-!” The men- you were pretty sure they were honest-to-god gnomes- began to jump out the window. Bill, unfortunately, was taken with them. You couldn’t help but just stare in pure shock and horror for a minute. Then it hit that Bill was actually getting kidnapped by a bunch of gnomes.

You dropped what you had in your hands, running to your bag. You grabbed your bear spray and a collapsible trekking stick. Once it’s connected, it’s a pretty formidable weapon. You’ve had to use it on raccoons before. These guys were about the same size, should be the same outcome.

You jumped out the window, thankful to be on the first floor. You were sluggish from yesterday, but knew you couldn’t just let this slip. No matter how stupid it seemed to be. You could hear Bill struggling and saw the last gnome duck into the treeline. You bounced from foot to foot, hyping yourself up, before breaking into a sprint.

You didn’t see them immediately, but could hear Bill threatening to make their beards grow out of their breathing orifices. That made following them a bit easier, at least. You couldn’t believe you had to even THINK about following something to beat the shit out of them.

You screamed as you slid down a ledge that was hidden by bushes. You shielded your face from low hanging branches and vines that had appeared. You hit a root, falling forward and rolling down the rest of the way. With a cough and a wheeze of pain, you used the walking stick to haul yourself up. If you weren’t sore before, you sure fucking were now. Bill better not say SHIT the rest of the day.

A couple gnomes were out in the open when you shoved through some foliage. You stared each other down, them in shock and you in rage. You threw the stick up a little, grabbing the handle more akin to a sword or a bat. The gnomes hissed at you, running at you on all fours. It made you realize how stupid this was.

As soon as they got close, you whipped out the bear spray. They screamed in pain, grabbing their eyes and rolling around to try and get the burn to stop. You sighed, sneering slightly as you stepped over them. You weren’t in the mood.

You hurried to where Bill’s voice was, for once thankful that he never shuts up. You peeked over a bush when you got close. Your eyes widened at the sight before you: Bill was fucking crucified. He was tied to a crude cross, the gnomes dropping wood at the bottom of it. Bill was still angry, but you could see the panic in his eyes and the way he struggled. Someone was getting a fire started nearby. They were going to burn him alive. Good fucking lord.

The gnomes were cheering so hard that they didn’t notice you emerge. Bill did, though, as he was high enough above the crowd to see past them. From the jeers, it seemed they recognized Bill to some extent. Shouts of payback and revenge. You didn’t know what, if anything, he did but fuck if you were just gonna stand by and let him get burned in front of you.

You hooked the bear spray back onto your belt, gripping the walking stick in both hands. With a cry, you took a hard swing. You knocked gnomes to the side like a bunch of golf balls. The others screamed and scattered. You kicked one that tried to run at you, sending him flying.

“YEAH! Send those little pests FLYING, kid!” Bill cheered you on, still trying to get loose. You ran over to him fast while the gnomes were still panicked. You grabbed your pocket knife, slicing the ropes loose. Bill didn’t hesitate, this time, to climb onto your shoulders. You already proved you were faster than him, and you were the one with the weapons this time. He tried to get your knife, but you put it away before he could grab it.

“Only use this if they get close behind us- do NOT spray it in front of us while I’m running or we’ll both go down,” you barked, handing him the bear spray. Probably a terrible idea, but you wouldn’t deny that having an extra eye and set of hands was a good thing. His eyelid curved excitedly.

“I like this side of you, Stardust! You can count on me,” he said, blinking in a way that would probably be a wink if he had more than one eye. You didn’t know if you really could count on him, but you had to count on the fact he probably didn’t want to go blind for a while. Bill, now that he wasn’t tied up and helpless, was having a blast.

“CHARGE! TAKE THEIR HEADS OFF!” His yell was a bit manic, but with how pissed and tired you were? You were kind of matching his freak. The gnomes finally settled, now coming back at you with murder in their eyes. You and Bill let out rabid war cries as you ran forward.

You swung through the gnomes like you were whacking a machete through the jungle brush. Tiny bodies flew this way and that. Some smacked into trees and bounced off large mushrooms. You felt a couple climb up your legs, slowing you down.

“Bill- legs!” “I HOPE YOUR EYES SHRIVEL UP,” he yelled, spraying down at your legs. The gnomes around your feet hissed and screeched in pain, letting you go to run away. You cracked one over the head, knocking it out instantly. Its blood had glitter in it. You hated it here.

It didn’t take long to get to the hill you slid down. You’d be significantly slower heading back up, but hopefully Bill could hold them off with the bear spray if it got too bad. A quick glance back showed that the gnomes had… banded together, and formed a larger being. You and Bill stared, dumbfounded.

“THIS IS BULLSHIT,” you both screamed as you flew up the hill. You felt Bill cling onto your shoulders and shirt. There was no way you could get rid of this thing. You heard Bill try the bear spray in a last ditch effort. You only had one idea.

“Stab the can and throw it at them,” you yelled, fishing the knife out of your pocket. Bill laughed maniacally at the idea, all but yanking the knife from your grip. Giving him a knife was a terrible plan. But you were out of options.

You heard the hiss of the can being punctured, then Bill screaming in pain. You wanted to throw him at the gnomes. You did hear him chuck it, though. You managed to get to the top of the slope, skidding to a stop as Bill yelled about his eye.

The foot of the mega-gnome stepped on the can, instantly making the gnomes in the foot disperse from the pain. Without the foot, the creatures began to tumble and fall into the cloud of bear spray. You panted, turning tail and running back for the hotel before they came to their senses.

“My EYE- I don’t even know if I can regenerate it! Why’d you tell me to do that, you stupid-!” “SHUT UP they’re GONE,” you snapped. If he could open his eye, you figured he’d be glaring at you. You didn’t dare slow down until you got back to the hotel.

You climbed in through the window, hurrying to the bathroom. You picked Bill up off of your shoulders, setting him in the tub. You grabbed one of those complimentary plastic cups and turned the faucet on.

“Bill, listen- lean over so I can wash your eye out. Blink as much as you can when the water hits.” You grabbed his shoulder and had him bend. Slowly, you poured water over his freak ass eye. He tried to rub his eye again, but you pushed his hands away from his face. You didn’t need him rubbing more debris or spray in.

“... I had to do this with my ex, too.” You knew it’d be at least half an hour to get it all out, so you figured you could try to distract him. “It wasn’t bear spray, but I had gotten pepper spray. Our ac was out and it got too hot. It exploded on him.”

“He sounds like a fucking idiot,” Bill huffed, some humor to his strained voice. You snorted a little. You smiled slightly. Sadly.

“He was pissed. Called me every name under the sun for even owning it, then for letting it explode…” You sighed to yourself. Bill looked up at you through tears and water, blinking rapidly as you poured more over his face. You looked away to refill the cup.

“You’re taking it a lot better than he was, I’ll tell you that much.” Bill squeezed his eye shut as more water came through. He grunted, both in pain and triumph.

“Of course I am! I’m WAY better than a stupid pile of nerve endings who pisses and screams about some capsaicin!” You won’t bring up the fact he also screamed over the bear spray. You couldn’t help but laugh. He finally was able to sit up and keep his eye open for more than a few seconds. He watched you, eye squinted and bloodshot.

“Yeah, you’re pretty alright, Bill. Good job back there.” He grumbled, letting you help him get out of the tub and wash his hands to be sure he was clean of bear spray. You gave him a wet rag to dab at his eye. When you brought him out, you saw the broken window and glass on the floor. With a heavy sigh, you handed him his “disguise”.

“Get dressed, we’re gonna have to change rooms. Maybe we can get one on the other side of the building.” Bill whined, annoyed and hurting, but was eager to get away from the room the gnomes busted into. You rubbed your temples as you left. You were so over this town.

#gravity falls #bill cipher #bill cipher x reader #sins in stardust

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rambleonwaywardson · 5 months ago

Note

More Astronaut AU coming soon? Pretty please?

Thank you for asking nicely 😊😂

Unfortunately, you can say please all you want, but the brain only works so fast. As usual, I aim to have it done by the end of the week. Highly unlikely it will be any earlier due to how much plotting, writing, research, and editing goes into every chapter.

I’m currently sitting at about 3k words of a very rough draft that only encompasses probably less than half of what I have planned for chapter 14. That is to say, this AU in particular takes a lot of time.

Here’s a super random snippet though?

When Curt opens his eyes, he doesn’t recall closing them. He must have fallen asleep at some point in the night that, on the moon, is never actually night. Just a stone’s throw away, and it would be night all the time and never day. But not here. Not where his ship sits, lonely in an ocean of glass and dust. Oxygen, silicon, magnesium, iron. The same oxygen that fills his lungs. The same iron that courses through his blood.

He’s spent too long listening to Gale Cleven wax poetic about the universe. We’re all made of stardust.

Thank you so much for your interest in this and for wanting more ❤️

#clegan astronaut au #I simply need more time in the day #asks #the Olympics drabbles are easier and quicker to get through #than the angst that is this mess

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reds-skull · 1 year ago

Text

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

This is (probably) the shortest chapter I've ever posted. Just didn't feel right to start another day.

Also my brain is actually melting from uni work please save me

Someone is screaming his name. A voice, loud and muted, clear and rough.

Ghost groans. Colors burst behind his eyelids.

“SIMON RILEY”

He opens his eyes. The world is a mess of fog and stardust. Ladder-like patterns swirl around him.

“Reaper…” he whispers.

“GET UP”

Ghost tries to take control over his shaking limbs. Pain flashes like lightning down his arms, as he slowly pushes himself off the ground.

He looks up at his Reaper, frowning. The realm… it’s… different.

Little moths inhabit the Reaper’s domain, flying around the patterns it creates, landing on its shoulders.

“What happened?” Ghost’s voice quivers.

His Reaper lowers its head to watch him closely, “I WARNED YOU OF THIS. YOU REFUSED TO LISTEN. BARE WITNESS TO THE RAMIFICATIONS OF YOUR ACTIONS.”

Moths startle as his Reaper gestures around them.

“YOU LET THE REVENANT OF DESTRUCTION JOIN YOUR VOID, SIMON RILEY.”

Ghost’s head is thumping a rapid rhythm, and he struggles to comprehend, “what does that mean?”

The Reaper’s eyes glow red, the air around him chills.

“IT MEANS HE HAS REIGN OVER YOUR LIMBO. HE, AND ONLY HE, IS ABLE TO SLAUGHTER YOU THERE.”

The moths swarm around the raging being, their fire casting terrifying shadows over bioluminescent skin.

“FEAR NOT, SIMON RILEY. YOU HAVE STOLEN SOMETHING FROM THE REAPER OF DESTRUCTION AS WELL.”

The world around them starts collapsing, Ghost hypnotized by the Reaper’s eyes, 6 red dwarves exploding in the never-ending universe.

“YOU STOLE LIGHT.

A SWORD AND A SHIELD.

I WILL KEEP YOU ALIVE

FOR NOW

DO NOT FAIL ME, REVENANT.”

Someone is calling his name. A voice, warm and soft, desperate and calming.

“-Simon!”

He hums. Something is feeling his shoulders, neck, lips… the touch is warm, it pulls him back to sleep.

“-Please, please… wake up…”

It sounds so achingly like home. Flames ignite in his chest, and Simon smiles, “Johnny…”

“-Oh Reapers above, thank god!-”

Simon drifts away again, following a lilting voice to a dreamless sleep.

Ghost feels weightless. Almost like he’s still sleeping.

“How far until the safe house?”

Someone sighs, “3 clicks.”

There’s a hand on his left arm, he notes.

“Bloody hell… we’re too exposed with 2 fuckin’ corpses floating around us.”

“Don’t call them that, hermano… what if they’re really-”

“They’re not dead.” the other person grounds, “Soap wouldn’t be able to drag himself that far otherwise-”

Soap. Johnny. JOHNNY.

Ghost snaps his eyes open, taking the (moving?) night sky for half a second, before snarling and thrashing around.

“Bloody-!” The hand on him retreats, and Ghost drops to the ground with a gasp.

The pain that shoots through his entire body momentarily blinds him. “Fuckin’ hell…” he mutters through clenched teeth.

“Ghost?! Shit, are you okay?” his eyes finally focus on the figures in front of him.

Gaz is crouching, one hand hesitantly reaching for him, the other on a prone person, floating midair just like Ghost was up until a few seconds ago.

Rudy pops up behind him, relief obvious on his features, “are you injured, Fantasma?”

“Where’s-” Ghost hissed as he lifts from the ground, Rudy rushing to support his back, “where’s Johnny?”

Gaz steps to the side, bringing the floating man closer.

“He… hasn’t woken up since we found him.” Garrick gently moves Soap down to the dirt, “only injury I could find on him is this…”

Gaz lifts Soap’s left arm, streaks of black covering his entire forearm, as if someone clawed at it.

Ghost lowers his head, breathing heavily. Limbo, Johnny, his victims scrambling to take his fire-

“YOU STOLE LIGHT.”

“It’s my fault.” Ghost covers his eyes with a trembling hand, “I sent him to Limbo… he was too far to reach… I-” his breaths come out quicker and quicker, “he’s not gonna-”

“He will be alright, Ghost.” Gaz firmly says, “when we found you, you were together. Soap got all the way from the compound to you before passing out.” he sounds so sure, Ghost can’t tell if he’s trying to convince himself as well.

Ghost removes his hand to look at Garrick, who offers him a hand, “c’mon. Rudy knows a safe house not too far from here, maybe the others made it out as well.”

He takes the hand, lifting easily off the dry earth. Rudy supports him when Ghost almost falls back down, his touch cool compared to Las Almas’ air.

Ghost bares his teeth, muttering, “what happened?”

“After you and Soap destroyed the entire compound?” Rudy takes some of his weight as they start walking, “Graves and his Shadows appeared behind us. They tried to capture us.”

“Rounding us up like fuckin’ cattle” Gaz growls.

Ghost groans as his leg gives out, Garrick instantly reaching to help him up, “how did you escape?”

Guilt paints Gaz’s face, “Price ordered me to get you two. I tried to take him with me, but… he refused.” Gaz tilts his head down, hiding his eyes under his baseball cap, “I found Alejandro and Rudy on the way. I was too late.”

Rudy clicks his tongue, “you did what you could, hermano. Ale was pushing me away. Pandejo always tries to save me first…”

A heavy weight in his chest pulls at his insides. “Any… casualties?”

The two men supporting him are silent for a few seconds, “we don’t know.”

They remain quiet as they continue to make their way to Alejandro’s safe house. Ghost’s mind is a cacophony of screams, each thought competing for attention.

Could Graves really kill several dozen of trained revenant operators? How could Ghost not see it, why didn’t he follow his gut for once, and cut off the snake’s head before it could bite?

A voice shouts louder than the rest, mourning his teammates, his friends. Johnny.

He grits his teeth and pushes on.

Ghost has almost forgotten true despair. How lucky he is, life has a way to always remind him.

The safe house’s windows are dark when their little group reaches it. Gaz and Ghost look at Rudy, whose face sours the closer they get to the small building.

Ghost can’t see any tire tracks, footprints, anything to suggest any human has been present in the last couple of days.

“Ale set up some pressure plates at the front doors”, Rudy murmurs, voice lifeless as their surroundings, “I’ll… go take care of that.”

The Vaquero walks ahead, steps more assured than his spirit. Ghost takes the moment to glance at Johnny. He hasn’t moved an inch since Ghost woke up. According to Gaz, he found them over 3 hours ago.

Ghost shoves away the thoughts, that yell that he will never wake up. That it’s all his fault.

The latter are not wrong. He just can’t think about that right now, not without losing what little composure he gained.

Gaz tries to give him a reassuring smile, and Ghost sharply nods in return. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if they didn’t find them, if Ghost woke up and all he had was an unconscious Johnny by his side, baring the mark of his violence.

Rudy waves at them, signaling the way in is safe. Ghost collects his thoughts and drowns them under the physical pain of walking. At least it makes for a great distraction.

“Nobody was here, Rudy.”

Gaz left Johnny on a moth-eaten couch, now standing in the eerily quiet hallway, watching Rudy rush from room to room, attempting to find any signs of life.

Ghost let himself down next to his Sergeant, when his legs started shaking so much he couldn’t stand anymore. Pain still pulses down his limbs with every heartbeat, and Ghost tries to focus on that instead of Johnny’s weak exhales.

Rudy eventually stops, returning to the room they’re all in, eyes tired beyond his years, breath fogging the air more than usual. He looks like he’s barely hanging on at this point. Ghost is sure they all do.

Ghost takes stock of their situation - all Los Vaqueros missing, the Captain, Commander Karim and Keller, status unknown. Location, unknown. Laswell, possibly collaborating on the betrayal. Shepherd, highly likely, not confirmed.

Graves, turned hostile.

Gaz is tired, he’s been using his powers for hours now. Even if it’s a small task, arms start hurting after you just hold a glass of water after several hours.

Rodolfo… he’s not in any state to fight, exhausted and shaken from the whole affair.

Johnny’s broken. To what extent, only time will tell.

“We can’t make any moves at our current state”, Ghost tries to sound as commanding as he usually does, “we need to rest and recharge. Take turns on lookout, in case anyone tailed us, hostile or not.”

Garrick nods, returning a “yes sir”, but Rudy stares at him for a few moments, conflicted. Eventually he sighs, looking away and heading towards what seems like a storage room.

He comes back out with a pile of blankets and pillows, calling Gaz over to take a pair, and giving Ghost two.

“For Jabón.” he explains as he walks to one of the windows, dragging a chair behind him, “I’ll take first watch. Rest easy, hermanos.”

Ghost feels the blankets for a moment, finding the softer one and wrapping it around Johnny’s still form, with gentleness that is outside his nature. He lifts Soap’s head to slide a pillow underneath, and pauses.

Johnny’s face is lax, unmoving and emotionless, in a way that is so unnatural, Ghost keeps waiting for the moment he opens his eyes, announcing the whole thing as the world’s worst prank.

He takes Johnny’s left arm in his, examining what Limbo left for him as a memory. Fingerprints wrap around his skin, cool to the touch when Ghost brushes over it.

Ghost then remembers Graves’ daft monologue, when shock and rage prevented him from truly processing what he heard.

“I’ve always wondered just how strong Soap is… after the carnage he left in Verdansk”

He caresses charred hands, their flame extinguished. Like water trickling down his spine, the pieces that make up Soap’s Reaping fall together.

There was never an explosion in a factory, was there, he wants to ask Johnny.

Soap killed Konchar, he got his revenge. The cost, the citizens of Verdansk.

Johnny is more destructive than any of them could imagine. Ghost looks back at every time he watched his Sergeant using his powers, how hesitant he was of them, almost scared.

He wasn’t afraid to be too weak. He feared he was too strong, terrified of hurting, of hands made for senseless violence.

Hands akin to his own.

Ghost doesn’t sleep. His heart does not calm, his mind doesn’t quiet down. He watches the sun rise, grey skies casting soft light over the barren rooms of the safe house, Rudy long fallen asleep in his watch.

A new day greets Ghost, alone.

The hurt gotta hurt for the comfort to be good.

39 notes · View notes

yuyunhoes · 5 months ago

Text

SPECTRE ─── II. REAL OR NOT REAL?

summary: felix got to meet the rest of the heroes of District 9 but not everyone seems to be pleased to his presence. han gives someone an important mission which has something to do with the new rising hero in the district. meanwhile, a certain person meets a supposed to be time traveler who was not suppose to be in this world.

author's note: jeonghan's pronouns in this au are they/them and there's a reasoning behind it which will be explained in the later chapters. as you may have known i may or not dropped some easter eggs too early— they are somewhat important in the future chapters don't worry. likes and comments are very much appreciated ><

other note: i can't believe this is almost 11k words long lmao

word count: 10.9k

♯bysephi | AO3 | YAP WITH ME | SEPHI'S WORKS | MAIN MENU

TWO MONTHS AGO.

Seungcheol takes his suitcase with him the moment his meeting with the clients was over, immediately texting Stardust about their meet up and tour of the company when he went to the elevator, pressing the “G” button for ground floor. Fixing his tie as he puts down his suitcase he takes out his phone reading Felix’s reply on the messages on my way to the building, I had to help my mom with groceries the man types his message before taking back his device onto the pocket of his pants and immediately got out of the elevator when he hears the ‘ding’ sound by the time he reached the ground floor. Choi Seungcheol is a man of his words and he does not like when someone is ahead of him in time.

His feet were in a rush the moment he got in the train station, the heels of his shoes clicking the tiles, pressing the card on the machine and taking his bag close to his chest as the next train arrived just in time. He felt his phone vibrating onto his pocket as he got in the train, doors closing behind. I’m outside now, should I walk in or just wait for you? A sigh of frustration came out from his lips as he typed his reply on the chat. There is no way Choi Seungcheol would be late— especially for someone who will be the new competition to Ironfist. There stood the young man waiting outside of his workplace, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, his blonde hair radiating the ray of the sun. “Good to know you didn’t walk inside,” says Seungcheol, sounding rather pleased that Felix did the right thing and that is to wait for him before he could do anything else.

“It’s not like I do not want to or make myself entertain myself when I get inside,” says Felix while raising his hands in the air.

“Whatever the case, we should get going,” Seungcheol motions the man to follow him behind as they go to the office of District 9. Felix was greeted by the woman at the front desk, giving him a visitor's pass and then followed Seungcheol once again. The man pressed the number ten on the elevator before the door could even close and suddenly a young man showed up, wearing a jumpsuit with a name written on the left chest. He held his toolbox close to him as his index finger pressed the "B" button which meant basement. Felix glances at the mechanic flashing a small smile from his lips to which the latter responded with a small salute. The elevator keeps on going to the high floors of the building which gives the mechanic some panic for some reason, his eyes didn’t dare to look at the transparent glass nor even at the floor. Felix and Seungcheol got out of the elevator the moment it had the “ding” sound when the doors opened, not having any idea of what would happen next to the mechanic.

There was a call from Changbin, a high skilled soldier outside of District 9, who is currently at District 9 sensing the fear and anxiety from the person on the other line, A smirk flashes from the War Devil as if he had seen this coming— it was written in the script all along so this isn't something new for him. He lets Changbin do the talk, letting the man say what he has to say at the other line “This is not cool! We are not cool!” War Devil laughed in response.

“What's fucking funny?! I almost got caught by the way,” Changbin rambles in anger.

“I believe you are in the location, no?” War Devil asks, completely changing the topic off guard.

“I am— don't change the topic here,” Changbin exclaims before shushing someone in the background.

“It was meant to happen that way. Want me to recall what happened next?” he teased, a sigh of frustration came out from Changbin's lips on the other line.

“I finally got in their lair, what's next?” There was a hum in response almost as if he was thinking of a new strategy to take on action. A soft knock on the door interrupts him for a moment, Vernon takes out a watch from his pocket as if to remind him of an agenda. He raised his hand for the latter to wait outside in which Vernon did as he was told. “Really? Fine, there's a young boy somewhere. Take him with you but not now," Changbin hangs up the call.

“I'm checking out my bishop, are you coming today?”

He moves the white bishop on the chessboard, landing on E6. A soft chuckle echoed in the room and instantly the black queen was moved vertically to take over the bishop earning a huff from him. “Was this part of your vision?” Hyunjin teased as he jumped from the table and fixed his red hair, the latter hummed in response but there was still an annoyed look on his face. Hyunjin takes a look at himself in the mirror as he twirls his hand in the air creating red mists slipping between his fingers. “I'm staying… for now,” there was a small yet devilish smile on his face as he turned to look at him, the latter got goosebumps at the sight of his partner before walking away closing the door behind him.

“Who were you talking to?” Vernon asks.

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard you talking to someone when I walked out of the room,” Vernon shrugs his shoulders, his eyes keep looking at the door as if he is waiting for someone to come out. He taps Vernon by the arm, catching the attention immediately. There was a small chuckle heard to which Vernon finds it odd but shakes off the thought in his head. Once they stepped out of the building soldiers greeted the two although Vernon does not need the formalities. His eyes look at the man next to him “When Changbin comes back I want you to come with me. Have Seungkwan with you because the doctor is on a mission I heard,” he said.

“Should I get that guy too?” Vernon asks, flapping his hands on the side like small wings.

“Hmm now that you mentioned it, have him too.”

“Are you sure to let him out? You know what he is capable of,” Vernon says as if to remind him of something he must have forgotten. There was a small nod in response, Vernon became uneasy as soon as he got an answer. Vernon finds it odd that he immediately allows someone as Angel of Death to go outside and have to be exposed to the public. He isn’t judging his abilities or if he can survive in the war, the one thing he is worrying about is the fact that he is the Angel of Death himself. Everyone knows what he is capable of and for him to let the Angel of Death to be out in the public eye is something Vernon didn’t expect to hear.

He is wishing to the gods he won’t be the one to take him to the district. The last time he was with Angel of Death he almost met the gates of hell and Vernon does not wish to meet death for the second time. Besides, he has to keep his promise to his significant other and that is to stay alive no matter what happens— be it on a mission or guarding the hideout.

“He has a special mission, that is, if Changbin comes back with good news.”

“What are you trying to say?” Vernon asks in curiosity, pausing from his tracks, his heart beating out loud against his chest. There was a small yet devilish smile on the latter’s face to which Vernon finds it odd and weird.

“You will see very soon but for now we have to get going.”

“You’re getting hyped up, Han,” Vernon responds to which the latter stops from his tracks, a small smirk on his face appears before talking back to Vernon.

“I always am.”

Felix takes deep breaths as his way to calm himself and be confident the moment he steps inside the room and meets the other members of District 9. Adjusting the costume he is wearing, his hand held tightly at the doorknob and widely opening his eyes met two heroes sitting in their seats looking comfortable yet, they didn’t acknowledge Felix’s presence as he walked in the room. Perhaps one of them did notice his presence but they aren’t sure how to approach him either way. “You must be that new hero,” the other one says his eyes fixated on the book he is reading in the palm of his hands. Felix nods in response with a smile plastered on his lips. He was pointed to an empty seat next to them and Felix acknowledged the offer and thanked them.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, newbie.”

“Stop it, Speedy,”

“I didn’t try to hurt him Dreamgirl,”

Felix clasps his hands together choosing not to join in the conversation— rather he would simply listen in on their talks and pretend to the two heroes who are sitting in front of him. The hero, Dreamgirl, gently taps his foot as if she is sending him a message that only he can know about. You shouldn’t be here, a voice spoke to him which surprises Felix but then again, he chose to play pretend. You shouldn’t be here, there says again and this time the voice is louder and Felix begins to understand who is talking to him. His blue eyes darted on Dreamgirl who was seemingly unsure if she would say something to him personally or just continue to mentally talk to him.

“That’s Dreamgirl, she doesn’t talk that much but she is okay,” another hero, whose name is Speedy, says, his eyes still fixated on the book he is reading. The woman looks at Felix with a sly smile on her lips with her hands clasped together, her long black hair almost covers her face as if she is trying to cover her face— as if she is hiding something from Felix. Perhaps Draeamgirl is too timid or shy to interact with others unless she is with someone she knows personally or she worked in the field for a certain period of time. Felix couldn’t judge her yet or maybe she does not want anyone to enter her life, that perhaps the heroine is used to having people judge her.

He tried to read what was on her mind in the hopes that he could get the answer why she had said those words. Did they have that feeling that Felix might take over their throne one day? Or perhaps the media portrayed him as someone who is a new threat to the league of heroes within District 9? Were they stunned to hear that he is better than the rest of them? Felix cleared his throat to ease the tension inside the room, Dreamgirl once again taps his foot. “Yours is a cool name.”

“That’s just a nickname, dumbass. Hero name is Speedrun,” the other hero says, in that moment Felix swore he almost laughed out loud.

“Still a cool name for me,” Felix clears his throat trying not to laugh in the room. He felt the heroine trying not to laugh with him as well.

The tension was interrupted when Speedrun closed the book with a loud sound, Dreamgirl almost jumped in her seat due to the loud sound. You shouldn’t be here, a voice speaks in his head once again, this time his eyes look at the heroine. “If they don’t show up on time I might as well leave the building,” Speedrun spoke out loud as if he is making an indirect message to the other heroes who are not here for the meeting. Speedrun stands up from his seat turning his gaze to look down at Felix “They should be ashamed for our newbie here,” he bluntly spoke.

Felix flashes a small smile on his lips as his response, to show off that he somehow agrees to what Speedrun has said.

The first time Seungcheol taught him about the ins and outs of District 9, passing down boxes containing folders about the information about the current heroes of the city district. Felix carefully reads them one by one not trying to ask questions towards his manager. There was an utter silence in the room especially between him and his manager, if there was a question it’s not relevant in the files placed on top of the table to which Seungcheol finds it odd but he keeps his cool off.

NAME: Wen Junhui

ALIAS: Speedrun

AGE: 29

ABILITIES: Capable of moving at such fast speed more than a human can do. He is also capable of running at short busts and at an infinite amount of time than any human can do.

There were a lot of highlighted words and phrases in the file about the hero but he couldn’t care less about the rest of the information. HIs mind starts repeating the name over and over again, doing the same thing to the other files he reads later on. “Give me the next file,” Felix would then receive the second file in his hands,

NAME: Kim Ji-soo

ALIAS: Dreamgirl

AGE: 31

ABILITIES: She has the ability to control and manipulate someone’s dreams and thoughts with her mind, making it into reality as she wishes. She is also capable of creating delusions and hallucinations.

Felix puts down the file on the side after seeing much more highlighted words about her profile to which he finds it rather annoying but since it is due to the privacy and safety reasons— although he finds it rather suspicious that her file has more redacted information but again, he couldn’t care less.

NAME: Lee Know

ALIAS: Gun Devil

AGE: 35

ABILITIES: He is capable of manipulating metals and weapons. He is considered as the military's weapon for war against the enemies. He is rated as rank 2 superhero, Ironfist making it to rank 1.

Now there is a suspicion from Felix the more he reads the files the more information he is not getting, only the basic information given to him. He turns to look at Seungcheol who also looks back at him in confusion though no words come out from either of the two. What is even the purpose of reading the files if the information is kept from him? Though he does not wish for any of the heroes to be close to him or be close to them, the amount of highlighted words that are redacted seems to be a bit suspicious, especially when reading the third file. “You okay? Is there anything you want to ask?” Seungcheol asked in concern, fingers pointing at the folder Felix is currently holding.

“Nothing… I need to be alone for a bit,” says Felix flashing a small yet forced smile on his face.

Seungcheol took that hint and with that he left the room, closing the door behind him. Felix is now on his own with a box of folders containing the profiles of the heroes in DIstrict 9. There was a hint of hesitation from Felix as his eyes looked at the folders as if he was unsure if he could go on reading the rest of the profile or take a day off.

In the end, he finished reading Gun Devil’s profile, shaking his thoughts on further investigating his information.

In the laboratory located at the bottom floor of the building, there stood Changbin wiping the sweat on his forehead as he figured out the code. His two companions, Seungmin and Mingyu, were on the lookout in case someone walked in on their plan. “Are you done?” Seungmin asks, getting agitated as he glances over the soldier with a huff from his lips. He pushes Changbin to the side so he can break the code instead “You could have said you need help,” says Seungmin taking a small device from the pocket of his pants and tries to connect it to the door lock, taking a deep breath before pressing a button at the side of the device, numerous amount of code came out of the screen. Mingyu keeps on looking out for employees who might catch them in the act, constantly reminding them to hurry up, to which Seungmin finds it annoying that he had to hear it at least five times.

After a few tries he got the right code and with that, the three of them got inside the small chamber the moment Mingyu noticed five guards coming their way. Lights begin to flicker as the door closes behind them, machines turning on as they walk in the hallway looking at every room through one way mirrors. Most of the rooms are empty, just a few pieces of furniture and clothes scattered around. Mingyu takes out his gun from the holster instructing Seugmin to get behind him, Changbin leading the way.

“Hey, did Han mention anything about this? About us coming into this chamber?” Seungmin asks, tapping Changbin by the shoulder.

“I don’t know, he doesn’t say anything about us entering the chamber,” Changbin answers, shaking his head lightly.

“Maybe you didn’t ask him about it,” Mingyu said sarcastically, clicking his tongue.

“Thanks for the compliment,” Changbin replies, containing his anger to Mingyu.

Seungmin sees something in the last room at the right side of the chamber as if someone is watching them in silence, his feet immediately walking up to the location with Mingyu and Changbin following him behind as they call his name. The brunette speeds up his pace in hopes of catching the person in act but what he sees is a door slightly opened and a teen perhaps around his age sitting on the carpet with his legs crossed, hands clasped together on his lap and his head hung low. “What was that? Stay close to me,” Changbin yanks Seungmin’s shoulder, punching his chest in anger,

Mingyu turns his gaze at the teen inside the room sitting on the carpet floor with his head hung low, he points the gun towards the teen getting ready in case he attacks them. Changbin and Seungmin’s gaze turn to look where Mimgyu is looking, nudging each other as if they’re picking who is going to make a move. “Is this part of the vision?” Seungmin whispers, making sure that the teen does not hear him asking, Changbin isn’t sure of his answer. In all honesty, Changbin forgot about the whole ordeal— he did remember a few of them but he isn’t too sure either whether it is true.

“Do you think he opened the door?” Seungmin whispers again, eyes motioning to the teen still sitting on the carpet floor not making any move.

“Why are you asking me?!” Changbin exclaims as he punches his chest again.

Their conversation was interrupted when the teen looked up to them with his dead eyes, his lips forming a thin line as if he had given up or perhaps in his own perspective he had no will to go on further to live. “You alright there kid?’ Changbin nervously asks as he walks a bit closer to him, Seungmin following behind with his hands tugging at the hem of his shirt. Mingyu glances at the door every now and then in case someone tries to enter the chamber. “Did they trap you here?” Changbin asks again and the teen points out behind them with his index finger, dead eyes now looking at the distance. The three of them turn around to see a group of guards walking outside with their guns in their hands as their lips talk to one another and responding to their walkie talkies.

There was no slightest hint of taking action from the latter; rather, he walks up to Seungmin aligning the tip of his index finger to his and before can say or react a sudden shift in the surroundings occurs as if they’re being dragged to another place in a matter of seconds. They were outside the city of District 9— in short, they were back to square one once again, Changbin took out his radio to make contact with the others for them to be picked up from where they were, Seungmin looked behind his back at the tallest building located at the centre of the city. There was a sense of longing from him as if he had lost something or there is a missing puzzle piece that they failed to solve. The teen was noticed by the guards who entered the chamber, pulling him out before he got strapped in the stretcher, letting out screams that he wished he could have said it sooner. The entire area was filled with nothing but screams and doors shutting once he was brought in the operating room.

Part of Seungmin knows he had to do something and back in the chamber of the laboratory, that same person in that room is waiting for something to happen to him.

That night, a soldier came into the room telling that they were needed in the meeting conference to which he nodded in response. They pick up the brown comb from the bedside table and tie neatly their shoulder length hair in a ponytail. Their dead eyes look into the dusty mirror hanging on the wall adjusting the clothes and spreading the white wings behind his back, taking one last look before hiding the wings again on their back turning it into a tattoo forged on his skin. They step out of the room closing the door behind them, the timid young man bows down as they walk in the small hallway not wanting to entertain anyone at the moment.

They had kept their mouths shut as if they had sealed them in order to be quiet. Hands having a tight grip at the end of their sleeves, whispering shut up in their head over and over again almost like a prayer. When he stepped out of his home there stood the familiar soldier he knew. “You good?” asks Vernon, holding his gun tightly in his hands, standing firmly as they walk past him.

“What happened?” Their voice is so weak that Vernon thought they were mumbling under their breath.

“Han wants you in the meeting, he didn't say much,” Vernon answers, shrugging his shoulders.

“Not that but the boy. I sensed a cry for help, what happened?” There was worry and concern in the tone of their voice. Vernon only looks at them.

“I see you didn't know… it's alright,” Vernon hums in response having no idea what they are talking about but that is besides the point. They walk to the tallest building Vernon not letting go of his sight from them, it was almost as if his life depended on it. “I heard you got a new name. I can call you by what you prefer to be called,” Vernon changes the topic as they make their way to the stairs, he walks up behind. The latter nods his head slowly in response as if they are not unsure whether to answer the question or not.

“There’s no need to tell me now, it’s not like I am rushing you for that. Tell me when you’re okay with it,” Vernon put up a thumbs up to which the latter didn’t pay much attention, not being bothered— they are not used to this kind of treatment from the society where they are at. The last time kindness was given to them the price was greed, anger and betrayal.

They made it to the conference room Vernon opened the door for him. There was a whisper of “thank you” to which Vernon acknowledged it despite the slight awkward tension between them. They do not know what had happened during Changbin’s mission but when their eyes noticed familiar faces in the room there was a hint of both trouble and unsettling feeling that something caught them up. Vernon raises his hand so Han gets him to notice their presence in the room to which it was a success. “The Angel of Death, have a seat here,” Han spoke up loud enough that they paused from what they were doing and turned around. They shiver at the name he mentioned, as if they don’t want to hear it. Han points to an empty chair next to the doctor, Wonwoo who gives him a sly smile.

The Angel of Death did as they were told to do so, his eyes avoided everyone’s gazes trying not to say anything as of now, the meeting had resumed to the topic. “Back at what I was saying— Han. How are you so sure it's that same person you had in your vision?” one of them, Seungkwan if they remember it right, had spoken out with his brows furrowed together. Their lips form a thin line trying not to say anything— for now, a soft tap on the shoulder caught them off guard “You must be confused right now, am I wrong?” Wonwoo says with a gentle voice and a sly smile on his lips.

“It's alright to be confused, that is one of human emotions. We, humans tend to be confused a lot of time,” Wonwoo adds, still having the sly smile on his lips, the Angel of Death finds it odd though everyone is used to this side of the doctor. Wonwoo, to their perspective, is the kind of revolutionary who is a jack of all trades. The person who has tricks and magic upon his sleeves to surprise everyone, his smile is just his charming demeanour so no one can suspect him. The Angel of Death knows the doctor can never die— it was in his prediction that his life can never be killed by anyone or anything. The punishment he has to endure for the rest of his life.

There was quite a bit of banter in the meeting but they couldn't care less. “Are you even a human?” they quietly said, trying not to make him offended— though it is in the first place.

Outside of the building they noticed a red haired guy leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his lips, exhaling the grey cigarette from his lips. They became a bit worried not because of someone’s presence outside but because of how unoccupied people were in the room not knowing there was someone outside of the building— he was floating peacefully in the air since the meeting was held in a high floor of the building, they guessed that this person is probably listening to their talks. They tried to speak but his lips couldn’t form a sound or word to get their attention towards him, there was nothing they could do other than wait for them to notice the person outside.

The red haired guy’s gaze turns to him giving a cold stare, his cigarette on his lips noticing the smoke coming out of it. It gave them a fright the moment they had each other’s gazes as if that person wanted them to be dead on sight. Then they noticed the red haired guy placed his finger on his lips, shushing them— more likely preventing them from seeking help from anyone in the room. Perhaps this is what the Angel of Death feels the moment they see that red haired guy floating outside of the building, a strong scent of death and vengeance lingering around him. A smile appears on his lips, scaring them to their soul.

Wonwoo noticed the sudden tense from the Angel of Death as if they had seen something terrible, he gently tapped their hand catching them off guard turning their gaze to him. There was a sense of relief that someone noticed them and they could finally get help. The doctor gently smiles at them “You look stressed, is everything okay?” their lips form a thin line quite unsure how to answer him— if this can give satisfaction to Wonwoo or not, if whatever they say can make Wonwoo believe in them or not. The banter between Han and the rest were getting a bit tense but he is curious more on what the Angel of Death is looking outside so Wonwoo takes a look at the direction where they were staring at, sadly he didn’t see or notice anything suspicious. He stood up from his seat telling them to stay with the others before walking towards the window.

His hands gently open the window peeking his head out to check if there is anything or anyone, even looking down the building to see in case he caught something— or maybe someone. A part of him senses a life wandering around them as if it’s watching them from afar. Seungkwan and Soonyoung noticed the doctor looking outside the window with his head peeking out. “What is going on Wonwoo? What are you doing?” Seungkwan said out loud, surprising everyone including Wonwoo who accidentally bumped his head on the window, Han diverted his attention to the doctor.

“Is everything alright there, doc?” Han asks, raising his eyebrow in concern, as if he is getting annoyed that he is being interrupted in the middle of an important discussion.

Wonwoo looks at everyone in the room with a devilish and sly smile appearing on his lips, scaring everyone, mostly him, His eyes look outside the window and there he was, the same red haired guy with a cigarette placed between his lips, his red hair is messy and all over the place. The Angel of Death becomes uncomfortable at the sight of the red haired guy sensing death all over him. Seungkwanm Soonyoung and Vernon noticed they became tense and nervous all of a sudden as the gazes all went to the Angel of Death. “You alright?” Vernon’s voice caught him off guard, his shoulders stopped getting tense, hands stopped from shaking as his lips let out a shaky breath.

“Hmm…” it was the only thing Angel of Death could say apart from shaky breaths he's letting out from his lips. He was quite unsure whether to tell the truth or not, part of him thinks it’s just his ability playing tricks on him for the reason that the souls are taunting and scaring him off. Those souls he had taken from the land of the living after experiencing death in their lives coming back and forth to taunt him, scare him, remind him of what he had taken from them. Perhaps he is just one of the souls trying to taunt him by simply showing right in front of his eyes.

They begins to pray that this meeting would be over so they can close their eyes and forget about what happened.

The Angel of Death stayed behind despite their prayers that they wish for this night to be over— it was more like Han tells them to stay behind after everyone begins to leave the room. They don't know the reason why they had to stay behind but the Angel of Death obliged to do as he was told. He vowed not to interfere in any conflicts or issues created by human society the moment he was reborn as the Angel of Death many years ago. Their lips were forced not to object with anything that humans are supposed to do— even if things are about to end badly for the sake of their lives. “I apologise for the sudden call. It must have surprised you, yes?” a nod from the Angel of Death made Han chuckle, the latter got a bit confused but nevertheless they didn’t say anything else. As what had said earlier, they chose not to interfere, obeying their orders without creating any conflict is way better than objecting their morals and values.

“Don’t worry we won’t be exiling you— I’m here to ask something, a favour rather.”

“What’s a favour?” they asked, tilting his head to the side showing the sudden interest in learning more about the human language.

“It’s something I ask to get something in return.”

“Okay…” Angel of Death almost mumbles his response as if he isn't sure whether to take it seriously or ignore this conversation.

“Don't worry it won't cost someone’s life and death! I just need you to do something for me.”

The Angel of Death felt the sudden breeze brushing against their skin, running up to the crook of their neck as if someone or something wanted to get his attention. Sensing the feeling of death within the room they try to control their urges and emotions not to break themself. Stay still, the voice of an old friend tells them once when they almost took someone's soul after getting into a huge argument. They smelled the scent of calmness, peace yet there was a hint of confusion and anger. It was calm before the storm.

Han Jisung, a young soldier who possesses the ability of a War Devil, possesses such emotions like these but never the urge or sense of anger— he was different as well as his soul. His eyes were searching for peace as if it was something so valuable that he had lost in his hands.

Whose soul was it that craves hunger of anger?

“I need you to look at this,” Han takes out a photo from one of the drawers on his table, sliding the photo towards him. A blonde young man is shown in the photograph wearing a scarf around his neck, a black and white sweater, black jeans and Chukka boots. He has his light brown overcoat over his arm and his sling bag was on his right shoulder. The camera had a good view on what he looked like and the Angel Of Death had sudden interest in the person in the picture. They felt a sudden pull towards him as soon as their eyes looked at the face in the photograph— it was almost as if they had known them somewhere from some time ago.

Their eyes stared longer at the guy in the picture, lips softly calling out for a name they had longed to hear and say. “Pandora”. Perhaps the gods were too kind for them or because Han was too focused on asking the Angel of Death a favour.

“I need you to look for him… but,”

“... but what?”

“I’m taking you out to the city— to be with people.”

There was a long pause— no, it was rather an awkward pause from Han. Judging by the facial expression the Angel of Death is not pleased with the favour. The years they had stayed in the revolution and spying for their favour, they are still not very pleased with humans. They had been with a group of people who had helped them in the past and somehow kept them alive and hidden away from the public ( reasons behind these actions are best unknown to them ) yet their feelings towards them will never be reciprocated no matter how they tried to look at their intent and purpose.

Putting their trust in humanity had them witnessed what it feels like when kindness is taken advantage of by people around you.

“There’s no need to be pressured! You still have time to think about it. When you think it is the time to go, tell me,” there was an assurance in Han’s voice yet he couldn’t trust the man behind the revolution— or rather the man who continued the revolution against the district. The Angel of Death didn’t dare to look at him and hesitated to answer. The glimpse of the blonde man in the picture gives them the gut feeling in their chest, this heavy feeling they thought perished centuries ago after the first war.

“It seems that you have seen a ghost— perhaps a ghost came after you.”

“N-Nothing… I felt dizzy, that's all.”

“You okay? It’s rare for someone like you to feel something like getting a headache or dizziness.”

“You think so…”

The Angel of Death almost chokes in their throat as if they were caught in the act by Han himself, they had forgotten ( well… almost ) about their adjustments in human society. Rather, they easily adjusted themself to the society regardless of their wishes not to blend in with humans. “I need to think about it,” disclosing the conversation right off the bat having to excuse themself from Han with their hand snatching the photo from the table and heads back to his room, not even bothered to say goodbye to the latter.

They can finally get out of this place but then where would they go? Where will they stay?

It would seem to be impossible for them to get out of the cycle because the moment he gets into District 9, people within the district will begin to notice their existence— deja vu all over again. The Angel of Death is tired of dealing with the ordeal for so long.

The only thing that's keeping them together is the guy in the photograph. Their eyes looked once more at the photograph as if they had seen him from somewhere— the second time they said this by the way.

Maybe this is the good time to let this chance of theirs to come to life— to get out of human society.

His eyes were fixated on the paintings that were each hanging on the wall with a piece of note placed at the bottom of the paintings, descriptions about the painting are written. The desire to see his own painting hanging on the wall as if it is a hall of fame made his heart skip a beat— he is a man with pride and desire inside of him. “Like what you see?” a female voice speaks out making him almost jump in surprise, a charming woman standing a few inches away from him. Dreamgirl, he recalls the name from the files he had read. “It's from a charity we had to attend a year ago,” she tells him as she walks to his side, her hands clasp behind her back. Her lips form a small yet forceful smile as her eyes stare at the painting, it was almost as if someone forced her to come out and talk to the new hero of the district.

She was simple— simply elegant per say. Even the way she dresses makes her elegant— in her white nightgown and white sleeping shoes. Her tired eyes look at the frame longer before turning her head towards him, her lips form a thin line. There were dark bags under her eyes showing signs that she hasn't slept well lately. “I meant the painting right here,” her hand points to the painting in front of them to which Felix hums in response— jealousy begins to play his emotions.

“That was brave of you there— I mean during the meeting. You sounded confident back there.”

“Are you talking to me?”

“Who else talked back to the one and only god of District 9 today? Am I wrong to say it was you?”

Felix clears his throat, starting to feel the awkward tension between him and the heroine. He wanted to boast his ability, for that is his reason but because of jealousy and pride playing tricks with his emotions, Felix didn't stop himself from talking back to him. From Ironfist. The fear of being the last hero in the group makes him sick to the core, he always dreams of becoming on top of everyone. Wanting to look down on everyone as their mouth calls his name like a prayer and he is their saint. Dreamgirl looks back to the painting but she is now dead serious, her facial expression changes as if someone had switched her off. “You know…” her voice cracks just as if she does not want to say anything more but her conscience tells her otherwise.

“.... you don't belong here.”

Felix was startled to the sudden comment from the woman. How he wished the woman would snap her thoughts as she says that whatever she said is just a bunch of silly jokes she secretly made up to scare him— Felix was wrong about her. Her dead eyes gaze at him along with an earnest tone of voice daring him for a challenge inside the building. Felix stood there astounded on the confidence she got— it was more of the audacity of her to call him out and say he does not belong here. How dare she call me nothing ( though it is indirect )? He thought to himself clenching his hands into fists in anger, tension arose within the atmosphere, his green eyes glow ready to let go of his power against her. Paintings, vases began to shake lightly as the lights flicker Dreamgirl felt the sudden change of aura within him though she got immediately tensed, her composure remains still as ever.

A burst of laughter was heard within the entire floor which snapped Felix’s thoughts back to reality. Hearing the vases break in the back and they both look in the same direction, Felix looks as stunned as Dreamgirl but he tries his best to remain calm like how the other hero does. He wanted to look composed as ever though that kind of made him spooked, Dreamgirl must have noticed it too he thought to himself. “You’re no fun to joke around, rookie,” says Dreamgirl with a flashing smile across her lips, pretty obvious she forced herself to smile. Her hands were behind her back, slowly taking out a small device attached inside the sleeves of her dress.

“But you should be careful. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer,” she warns him, her smile still visible to her lips as if she is teasing him once again. Felix just nods his head in response before excusing himself and going back to his room. He felt eyes are on him watching his every move. The black haired woman breathed a short sigh of relief ( she isn’t sure if it’s a right word to say the least ) as soon as Felix disappeared by the time the elevator closes its doors, hearing the ‘ding’ sound indicating the elevator will go up.

Felix knew what she meant by that warning she blurted out. It was obvious enough the moment he had stepped foot at their discussion She looks back at the painting of Ironfist with his head held up high, having pride in his eyes. The details of the crowd looking up at him as if he was an idol— he definitely an idol, a saint rather than people worshipping in their moments of despair.

With one soft sigh from her lips, Dreamgirl turns her heels making her way back to her room.

There he was again, in an empty room with no way to get out of this place. Sounds of footsteps running across the room can be heard to which he began to follow— it's an endless chase but Felix didn't care. Laughter then echoes in the room as if it is trying to taunt him — Felix becomes rather annoyed to say the least — his voice yells back in response. The laughter became louder and coming closer towards Felix before a voice spoke, “This isn't funny you know,” he became agitated by the minute, his feet started running again as the voices of laughter became louder. When the last door appears at the corner of the room Felix then opens it and he is then taken to another room— more of a laboratory rather. Lights at the ceiling began flickering as if it noticed someone had accessed the area.

In every room there's a one sided mirror but there is one in particular that he could hear someone crying out for help— moreover someone begging for help. “Hey! Show yourself!” he screamed as he ran towards the source of the noise opening one of the doors, his body jolted up from the bed catching his breath as if someone had tried to suffocate him while sleeping. The moment Felix wakes up from the nightmare is when everything in his place crashes down— all of his belongings including glass windows shattering into pieces as if someone had thrown a hard object to break it. A knock on the door gave him a yelp hearing the familiar voice of one of the managers. “Is everything okay? I heard something breaking,” Joshua’s concerned voice made him snap back to reality, Felix lied by saying everything is okay and that he had been doing some exercises which caused some crashing that Joshua heard.

There’s a moment of silence from the other side for a few minutes before hearing the sound of heels walking away from his room, having the thought that Felix convinced Joshua with his lie and this gave him the sense of satisfaction.

He had hoped that the same nightmare he had from his childhood would just turn into a fainted memory from his mind as he grew up, getting to know what is real and not.

Fingertips touched the handle of the comb gently brushing their hair that went up to their shoulders, The breeze of air swung in and out making the curtains that were hanging on the wall dance gracefully. They then ties their hair in a half bun, a few hairpins pressed on the sides of his hair trying to hide some bangs. There was a small smile of satisfaction formed on their lips exhibiting the sense of contentment. They tries not to dwell or at least think of any worry in their mind the moment they had agreed upon a deal to which the Han talked to them weeks prior. “It is okay….you are okay,” they whisper under their breath taking one last look in the mirror before grabbing their belongings that they had prepared the night before,

There stood Vernon who was waiting patiently outside of their room, playing with a hunting knife in his hand to kill time. “Can we go? You have everything with you?” Vernon asks to which the Angel of Death nod in response, showing the bag hanging on their shoulder. The two then walk to the main headquarters where the other rebels are waiting for them. The Angel of Death sees familiar faces— one of which was a young rebel whom he wants to be called San. The Angel of Death knew he isn’t from the outskirts of the desert nor he was raised to be a rebel from childhood but they couldn’t bring himself to ask about his whereabouts or what humans call a place as hometown, a place where an individual was born and raised from childhood up to the present time.

They saw the soldier smiling at him to which they reluctantly smiled back, bowing their head before going back to Vernon. “Can’t believe you had to say yes to this one, you’re sure you can handle it?” another soldier asks, the brunette one rather wearing a soldier jacket, green shirt, dusty jeans and boots spoke to them. He didn’t sound annoyed nor was he acting like one towards them. They had seen this another familiar face on some occasions and this is one of those occasions the Angel of Death is talking about. They didn’t dare to ask the name nor was they eager to ask about that matter. “Han didn’t pressure you into this, didn’t he?” a third soldier commented— if the Angel of Death could remember, the name is Choi Beomgyu— they call themself a genius for remembering his name despite the fact that they rarely interact aside from “hi” and “hello” whenever they bump into each other.

The Angel of Death shook their head in response, saying short phrases that made them listen to their short but definitive explanation. San happily made his way towards the Angel of Death asking permission if he can get closer to which the latter said yes, completely unbothered by the whole gist, “It’s been a while Angel! I forgot to send you my letter after my mission” says San with an apologetic look on his face, as if he thought the Angel of Death is mad about the letter he is supposed to send. Angel of Death assured San that it’s not a big deal but rather it should be them that needs to apologise to San because they had forgotten about the letters,

“You didn’t die… you never die,” they commented, pointing to where his heart is. San looks at his chest having no idea what they are talking about.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get my soul this time. I’m too strong to die just yet,” San mutters, flashing a teasing smile on his face. The Angel of Death pouts in annoyance, rolling their eyes.

“I’m really strong! I can’t die just yet,” San insisted, swearing on his words to which the Angel of Death found it rather amusing. For someone like San to swear while having to put up a gentle smile on his face, “I will get your soul one day,” he utters under his breath. As much as they want to be dismayed at not getting San’s soul, it is a written fact that he cannot die, just yet. He is a human after all— a mere human with great physical physique and as his greatest advantage as a rebel.

Though his heart and desires does not possess such abilities.

Their conversation is then interrupted when Vernon calls him out, nodding his head towards the door signalling it’s time to go. He notices the sudden excitement from San as he encourages the other rebels to get ready, the Angel of Death then follows San as they exit the building getting looks from the other rebels and soldiers. It spread like a flash, the news about the Angel of Death having the permission to leave the premises for a mission. A warm touch on the hand caught him off guard, Angel of Death looks up hoping it's still the same soldier but rather another soldier he hasn't seen in a while either. “You didn’t die either too,” they thought, which made the latter chuckle in response, trying not to laugh at the sudden tease. Slightly shoving him away. “At least a good hello will make me a bit happy,” Choi Beomgyu pouts as he extends his arms, expecting a hug from the latter.

“As much as I want to hear you talk it’s time to go,” Vernon says before letting out a deep sigh from his lips, nodding his head towards the exit.

“Okay calm down loverboy!” Beomgyu commented, now following Vernon while telling the Angel of Death to ignore the looks he gets from other people.

The car ride becomes totally silent— mostly likely due to the fact that Angel of Death doesn’t start out a conversation with everyone despite knowing most of them. There were familiar faces— asides from San, Vernon and Beomgyu that is — to which he had recognized ( how does his brain do this? To be honest, the Angel of Death does not know ) during the car ride. “How’s the district by the way, loverboy?” one of which, Seungmin asks abruptly, turning his head to look at the back, chewing the bubblegum in his mouth as he waits for Vernon to comment. The brunette haired guy shrugs his shoulders almost as if he doesn’t know how to begin, Vernon, who has had enough stress and problems to deal with during his stay inside District 9 had to take a deep sigh of frustration. It took Angel of Death a couple of seconds to sink in what Vernon had gone through during his stay in the district as part of his mission.

A shout from Choi Yeonjun, who happens to be the driver of the vehicle, indicates the go signal to open the gates to which a rebel did what he was told to do so. The sound of the gates open was then a moment of realisation hits everyone— especially for Angel of Death who had just sinked in the reality that they are finally coming out of the zone. The Angel of Death couldn’t feel human emotions unlike a mere mortal should have though there is a part of them that gets the feeling of what humans call as nausea, the palms of their two hands began to produce sweat. Yeonjun then drives away from the zone having one last look at their base not knowing whether to have a farewell at the place he had lived for so long after the first war broke out. There were a few rebels watching them as they drove further away, noticing the kids waving their hands goodbye at them knowing that the old tale about men going outside to beat the bad guys and coming back the next day.

San had a heartbreaking smile on his lips getting the feeling of sorrow and bitterness knowing the tales of the children that were told are just a part of distraction for them not to get emotional trauma and deal with the grief. This was the same tactic his parents had to tell him during his childhood as they moved from one place to another, as a young child there was little to knowledge on why they had to move out so soon. For him, it has to do with his parents’ work and the workplace where they are assigned, “We’re going to a better place,” his mother would reassure him every time he tries to ask why they have moved to another place.

Even now that he has left the district— his hometown, San moves from city to city, from one zone to another, from one group to another. He is already grown up with the ability to think of what's right and wrong, what to do and not to do. “Better place… huh,” San utters under his breath in disbelief, having to believe in his parents’ lies the moment he steps foot on this land. San feels sorry for the children who have to witness this whole ordeal, wanting for this war to be over so they won't have to wonder why there were big trucks of big “supplies” wrapped in cloths and people don't get too happy or excited about it.

“Are we there yet?”

San turned to look at the Angel of Death who now focused on looking outside of the car with the window open. “We’re not even halfway there yet. We have to go through The Dump first,” Yeonjun explains while adjusting the front mirror and adjusting the grip on the steering wheel, having a short glance at San as if he panicked for a split second after mentioning the route they will be taking along the way. There was no tension nor San reacted badly towards Yeonjun, the Angel of Death observed what was about to happen. They had heard about the place from the other rebels but not much of a deep information was given aside from the fact that it used to be a part of an infamous city outside District 9.

It is a place where everyone does enter easily but can never get out. It was almost as if something was attracting them the moment they set their foot on that place. San describes it as a place where you can either be controlled or to control. “Have you been there before?” Angel of Death once asked when he a night walk with San during his short stay in the rebel base, “I wouldn't be called a rebel if it wasn't for my crazy idea to leave my hometown.” The Angel of Death notices a silhouette standing on top of a cliff wearing a black cloak, sitting straight on the back seat their eyes meet instantly giving them a gut feeling. They couldn't hear anything other than the static noise, the Angel of Death then turned to the rebels but no words would come out from his lips. They knew they were discussing something but the sight of the silhouette made them know what was going on. Their gaze turned back at the same silhouette from afar, it was still there. The Angel of Death didn't know how or why he had to do it but the moment his hand touched the handle of the car door, they instantly spread their wings so wide and speeds its way towards the silhouette, not caring if the rebels began calling their name and Yeonjun turning the car to the side and now is chasing after them.

The Angel of Death is fast— fast indeed that Choi Yeonjun couldn't keep up with the speed despite the amount of times the other rebels tell him to do so. Yeonjun yells at them saying he's trying to speed up the chase but the Angel of Death is faster and even stopping them from chasing him. “Did they see another soul or what?” asks Vernon, now getting distressed at the new problem they're facing, the Angel of Death running away from their sight.

San takes out a binoculars from his bag having a quick view as to where the Angel of Death is heading to. Due to the strong current of the wind and now the sudden sandstorm chasing after them from behind, they— including San, couldn't track down the Angel of Death nor even locate where he is. With a crazy idea and intrusive thoughts running through his mind at the same time, San then takes his mask covering half of his face before jumping out of the car earning shouts from the other rebels as they call his name. “Get back here, Choi San!”

The young soldier doesn't look back and runs as fast as he can towards the Angel of Death despite not knowing his exact whereabouts.

There it is, the familiar silhouette that made the Angel of Death is so eager to get at all cost— perhaps the rumours were right, you can never get out of this place. As soon as they get closer to the silhouette the Angel of Death notices a bandage wrapped around the waist which makes them stop at the tracks, blood dripping from the side of the waist. The hood of the cloak was then removed and before they could know it, the person slipped himself on purpose from the edge of the cliff causing his body to fall on the ground. The Angel of Death tries to save him from the brink of death, extending their hand to reach the other.

A smirk came out of the person’s lips as if he had seen this coming, suddenly activating his ability noticing the sudden glow in his eyes to which the Angel of Death shriek in surprise but what made them even more stunned is the fact that before it could the ground the sound of a glass breaking were from behind creating a portal and was too late when they tried fly away. The Angel of Death was then taken to an unknown place where everything was reversed, the sky is at the bottom of the portal while the buildings are all on top, including the vehicles and people who seem to be oblivious and not spotting them arriving in their place. The Angel of Death tries to chase after the latter, extending their hand once again and the moment their hands touch they are then taken to another portal, hearing glasses shattering into pieces.

The next portal the Angel of Death was in they see a shattered glass on his side, the reflection looking back at them but there was something to notice— their reflection smirks at them as if to tease the Angel of Death or make insults towards them. Their gaze then goes back to the individual. I’m dying, the voice cracks, almost becoming more of a sob and this made the Angel of Death become concerned towards this individual. Spreading their wings even wider they get closer to this person finally removing the cloak, revealing a man with a faded bruise on his right cheek. His hair was all ruffled up in a mess, traces of dried blood are visible. “Your soul doesn't exist,” the Angel of Death said as he tried to touch the tip of his fingertips, that's because I’m dying. The man spoke as he took the initiative to take the Angel of Death by the hand, pulling him closer.

The minute their bodies were about to have an impact on the sky, another portal was made taking them to another location— or another dimension in other terms, hearing the bustling sound of vehicles moving around along with the noise of people speaking on multiple occasions as they looked at their gadgets. No one seems to notice their sudden presence in their world as they fall deeper, creating more and more portals as they go. The Angel of Death tried to connect their consciousness to the young man’s mind by giving them flashbacks of the events that had occurred in the past— rather from his past. The faces of people they had never met in another lifetime or even encountered their souls once in the afterlife. The Angel Of Death wanted to push the individual away but if they did so, the Angel of Death wouldn’t be able to take his soul to the afterlife— even though he was never from this realm.

The Angel of Death is then taken to an abandoned warehouse located in the middle of nowhere. The sound of the birds chirping from outside, the golden ray of the sun reflecting on the window showing his shadow from behind. There were some old and used couches with notebooks, crumpled pieces of paper and pen. Torn fabrics hanging on some of the windows even in the couch, Two broken guitars placed neatly on each stand with wires not connected to the amplifiers. The sounds of people laughing, children laughing in the background as if nothing had happened or perhaps nothing has ever happened, yet. A gentle and warm smile appeared on the other person’s face, his eyes lit up like a golden sun but there was no joy.

“You made it,” he spoke, still having the same gentle smile on his face.

The Angel of Death walks closer to him but he later froze in shock the moment he heard a group of men knocking on a big old warehouse door, Hearing the name of a young man, the latter smiled in response as if he was happy to hear his name like a prayer in his ears.

Hongjoong! Hongjoong!

The cheerful voices calling out his name as if they knew he would be here first before them. The Angel of Death turns his head to look at the direction where the voices come from, “They arrived earlier than I expected. I need to cut this short,” Hongjoong spoke, changing his tone, noticing the silent gaze and thin line on his lips. “I don't know how you got into this place—” he then takes the Angel of Death’s hand intertwining with his, earning a gasp from the latter. A silver light begins to appear in their hands as if it's trying to escape from the grip wanting to be let out.

“— but you have to go. This is not a good place for you. Go, you don't belong here.”

“But neither are you! You're supposed to…”

“Die?”

“No…”

“I’m taking you back where you belong. The moment we separate from each other you will never remember this encounter. Not even this moment of meeting me face to face. Everything will be an illusion and a faded memory to you.”

Hongjoong’s hand covers their eyes almost as if he is trying to hide something, not wanting to be exposed. There is an eternal silence after that, everything was pitch black, there was no one but himself now.

“One can never tell I exist. For I am the beginning of the end.”

The moment Choi San sees the unconscious body on the ground he immediately lifts it in his arms and makes his way back to the team shouting at them on top of his lungs. They knew what it meant and with no time to lose Yeonjun drives to where San is, ordering the others to help San. “Let's get the hell out of here,” says San as he catches his breath after all the running, adding up the fact that he had to lift the Angel of Death in his arms.

Meanwhile, the young man— or rather he was named Hongjoong, immediately snapped his fingers, stopping the sandstorm from behind, showing a tall building located in the middle of a city built within the walls. A light appears from behind pointing towards him as if he is a missing person— perhaps he was in fact a missing person… just not from here. He turns around to look at the person standing at the highest floor of the building, having the smirk on his lips to intimate the other to which he had succeeded. The person on the same building got infuriated in return, making his eyes glow in anger and slam the cane he is holding. The sound of the cane hitting the ground was so loud that it even shook the whole nation in shambles.

It was then that the Children of Pandora were frightened and were told to go after what they were supposed to do, an order from their current ruler— the God of Justice, Seonghwa.

WHERE TO READ! ACT ONE — District 9 | I. STARDUST | III. OOPS, SORRY!

#ateez #stray kids #seventeen #stray kids au #hyunjin #jeonghan #choi san #choi yeonjun #beomgyu #hongjoong #seonghwa #lee felix #wonwoo #vernon #hyunjin skz

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giggly-squiggily · 1 year ago

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☁Puffs☁ (Sentence Starters) Are Open!

Heyo! I'm feeling a little bold, a little brash (I belong in the trash) And decided for the weekend to open up sentence starters! Since they're small little dabbles (300 words max, give or take) I'm gonna call them Puffs! What do we think of the name? (work in progress I know)

Rules:

Send me a sentence starter and a pairing and I'll write a short dabble for it!

Reader insert is allowed!

The event will go from Today (Saturday, Nov. 11) to Monday (Nov. 13) 8pm EST. I'll let you know when the event is closed.

I have new fandoms! Please read my pinned post for restrictions and limitations and all that! (Fandoms below the cut!)

SFW, I will write both tickles and non tickles!

I think that's it? I'll update y'all if anything changes! Have at it everyone! :D

~Fandoms~

Black Clover

- Blue Lock (Anime)

-Big Windup

- Bungo Stray Dogs (Up to Season 3)

- Buddy Daddies

-Code Realize

-Collar x Malice

-Chainsaw Man (Anime + Around Chapter 72 I think?)

-Danganronpa THH, SDR2 , V3

-Dr. Stone

-Demon Slayer

-Fire Force

-Free! Iwatobi Swim Club

-Fruits Basket

-Given

-Haikyuu!!

-Heartstopper

-Hell’s Paradise

-Hunter x Hunter (Up To Greed Island Arc)

-Jojo’s Bizzare Adventure: Battle Tendencies (Part 2) Stardust Crusaders (Part 3), Diamond Is Unbreakable (Part 4), Golden Wind (Part 5)

-Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime + Movie Only!)

Komi Can’t Communicate

-Mob Psycho 100

-Moriarty The Patriot

-My Hero Academia

-Pokemon (Limited Requests: Legend Arceus, Gens 1-7, 9, ScarVio DLC included) **No longer taking requests for Sword and Shield**

-SK8 the infinity

-Spy x Family

-Toliet Bound Hanako-Kun

-Tokyo Revengers

-Rain Code (Up to chapter 4)

-Vinland Saga (Mainly Season 2)

-Yu Yu Hakusho (Veeeery limited)

#sentence starters #sentence starters are open!#puffs

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ts--stuff · 7 months ago

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JayVik Fanfic Update: My Dear Adversary

Chapter 1: Stardust and Chapter 2: The Defender and The Herald are up!

Excerpt:

It was a massacre. The front doors were wide open, with the bodies of guards- or maybe workers- littering the entrance, and it was deathly quiet. Jayce kept his Mercury Hammer close as he approached, and he felt a grimace pull at his features when he made it through the threshold. There were more people here than he thought, now all laying on the ground lifeless. Quietly, he took a closer look at the bodies at his feet. Most of them were muscular and were armed with blades or blunt weapons. All of them, though, had The Eye of Zaun tattooed somewhere on them, a symbol of the industrialist, Silco.

A sudden, desperate voice cut through the eerie silence, coming from the lower levels of the building. “Please! I have information! If you just-”

The familiar click of the Hexclaw activating echoed off the rickety walls, and a bright light flashed from below.

Jayce’s blood ran cold as the silence returned.

Viktor.

Summary: With Shimmer rampant, and his The Council in corrupt waters, Jayce travels to the Undercity to get to the bottom of Shimmer production to expose his colleagues. Coincidentally, his long-time adversary, Viktor, is also looking to end the Shimmer Crisis for the sake of Zaun’s health. Normally, Jayce wouldn’t trust an enemy, but he has no funds or allies in his research. He could only hope he wasn’t making a mistake.

Status: In Progress. Frequent Updates.

Ratings & Warnings: T for Canon-Typical Violence and Minor Character Death, Shimmer Abuse.

Relationships: JayVik, previous SkyVik

Characters: Viktor, Sky Young, Jayce Talis, Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Rio, Ekko, Blitzcrank, Jinx, Silco

Misc Info: Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, Slow burn

Read Here!

#jayce talis #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #jayce arcane #arcane jayce #jayvik #jayvik fanfic #jayvik fic #arcane fic #arcane fanfic #my dear adversary #t writes

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alterchaos · 1 month ago

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SEVEN SERVERS CHAOS

Seven emeralds. One final hope...

(cw: heavy blood/gore, death)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: BENEATH A STARRY SKY

NEXT CHAPTER: SHAKEN

ANIMATIC VERSION: DESTINY’S CHAOS

Beneath the light of the glittering stars lay a girl, one with eyes as turquoise as the ocean she’d once loved to sit beside and hair as golden as the final remnants of the setting sun behind her. She looked up at him, her oldest and dearest friend, her eyes growing heavy and heart weary as he carried her in his strong and comforting arms. Particles of light danced and flickered against the bloodied heart adorning her neck, time seeming to freeze as she reached for the trinket as golden as his quills, which were now fading to a deep and calming blue. She blinked, a few tears flying loose as the wind from his strides gently brushed against the side of her gaunt cheek.

Sonic…

Her hand stained in crimson trembled as she continued to reach for the locket.

She grasped it.

She focused on its shimmering surface.

It reminded her of…

…of…

…the ocean.

…

Home…

One she knew she could never return to…

Just another soul lost to the stardust…

Forever…

There was no future…

No reality in which she survived…

She closed her eyes, clutching it close.

Sonic…

She was going to leave him…

So suddenly…

So…

Tragically…

She opened her eyes again, a few more tears sliding as she looked past her shoulder.

She saw…

…

Red…

“K-Knu…ckle-”

She coughed the blood from her abdomen once more.

He waved his arm past his head, “QU…K…H…IS…WA…”

That’s right.

She was…

Fading…

So…fast…

Suddenly, she felt herself lowering from his arms.

A soft glow…

Green…

Left…

Stone…

S-So…nic…

She laid a hand on his before he could leave her side.

She smiled.

She held it out…

Her locket…

This…was the end…

…for…

…her…

He clasped his hands around hers, gently pushing them back towards her chest.

“...ve…u…oin…to…ive…”

Everything…was…

…so…cold…

…so…

…nu…mb…

…so…

…ti…re…

Her eyelids fluttered closed one final time.

Son…

…

—----------------------------------------------------------

The Hero of Mobius, soaked in the blood of one of his dearest friends, stood back up. He ran an equally bloodied hand through his bangs, soaking them in the remnants of her rapidly fading life. He watched the girl with the golden, bloodied hair with frantic eyes as she lay there.

She was so still…

So pale…

So…quiet…

It took everything for him to not fly out of his skin in a panic, to rush to her side and simply shake her, begging her in his desperation not to die.

No.

He had to stay calm.

He had to-

He turned, tears pouring from his glistening, emerald eyes as he felt a gentle hand on his trembling shoulder, “R-Rouge…”

“She’s going to be okay, Sonic…” The bat looked on at the Echidna now approaching the massive emerald at the altar’s center, “Knuckles knows what he’s doing.”

She hoped.

All they could do at this time was hope.

It had to be enough.

It HAD to be.

If not…

The echidna looked down at his fatally wounded friend once more, a few loose tears sliding from his muzzle as he noticed her chest begin to fall still.

“Come on, kid…Stay with me…”

She remained still.

The eldest of the heroic brothers threw his hands up above his head, his eyes going blank as they glowed a fierce, electric green.

“The servers are the seven chaos…Power enriched by the heart…”

The emerald came alive with crackling energy.

“The controller is the one that unifies the chaos…”

Chaos energy burst forth from the gem, Knuckles pushing back as he continued his ancestors’ prayer.

“HEAR ME CHAOS!!! THE SEVEN EMERALDS ARE THE SERVERS!!! CHAOS IS POWER, ENRICHED BY THE HEART!!!”

Nothing was happening.

“PLEASE CHAOS!!!!”

At that moment, a glowing spirit clad in crystals and tribal markings appeared behind him, smiling as she gripped her descendent’s shoulder for support.

“PLEASE!!!”

The lifeless girl before the emerald began to glow a brilliant green.

Knuckles pushed harder.

“THE CONTROLLER SERVES TO UNIFY THE CHAOS!!!”

She glowed brighter.

“UNIFY THE CHAOOOOS!!!!!!”

The world was blinded by her light.

“AAAAARRRRGHHHH!!!!!!”

Tears flew from the echidna’s eyes as he gave it everything he had in one final push to save the girl with the golden hair.

Then…everything began to subside…

“The servers…are the seven…chaos…Chaos…i-is…pow-” Knuckles faltered, stumbling as the emerald’s overwhelming energy left him. He fought back against his fatigue, rejoining his brother and girlfriend opposite their dying friend.

They watched her together.

…

The desperate smile on Sonic’s face began to fall.

…

His eyes widened, his ears pinning back against his head.

“Eve…?”

…

The girl remained still…

…

Lifeless…

…

No longer with them beneath that starry sky.

The hedgehog’s gaze turned confused as he slowly shook his head.

How?

How could Knuckles have failed?

No.

Nonononono…

This was a mistake.

This was all a mistake.

This had to be a mistake!

She was alive!

She was ALIVE!

SHE HAD TO BE ALIVE!!!

Sonic lunged forward towards the girl as Rouge covered her mouth in denial.

NO!

HE HADN’T FAILED HER!

SHE WAS ALIVE!

SHE WAS JUST SLEEPING!

SHE JUST NEEDED TO BE WOKEN UP!

Y-YEAH…TH-THAT WAS IT!

His older brother grabbed him, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso as Sonic’s eyes flew wide.

“Sonic…I’m so sorry…”

At those words, the hedgehog began struggling against his grip, unable to accept such a terrible reality. He’d promised her! He’d promised her!

Until the end…

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”

This wasn’t the end…

It couldn’t be…

The echidna pulled him back harder, tears flying from his eyes as he watched his little brother kick and scream against his hold like some feral beast. He continued offering soft words of condolences, willing to hold him until he was ready to accept the fate reality had chosen for her.

Sonic…

He felt like such a failu-

“Guys! Look…”

The two brothers froze, ceasing their struggle against one another as they followed Rouge’s gaze towards the deceased girl lying before them upon the stony altar.

…

They watched with anticipation as they felt something stir within the air.

…

The girl with the golden hair remained still.

…

The girl who wished nothing more than to walk beside the heroes of that world…

…

Who wished nothing more than to cast aside her human flaws…

…

To become something more…

…

To ascend…

…

They watched her.

…

Then…

After a moment…

—----------------------------------------------------------

beep

The man turned his head, curiosity lining his features as a button on his control panel began to flash.

beep

He walked over and pressed it, pulling the surveillance up on his screen beside a series of topographical and planetary charts.

beep

He smiled.

“It seems things just got a bit more interesting…”

SAGA END

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wastelandmoony · 2 years ago

Text

Déjà Vécu: Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen : It Ain't Easy

Summary: Sirius turns 13.

Characters: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader (no use of y/n), James Potter, Petter Pettigrew, Regulus Black, Marlene McKinnon

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+ only!, angst, anxiety/overwhelming feelings, language, mentions of death and self harm, mentions of abuse, mentions of drinking.

Read on AO3

Companion Playlist

Déjà Vécu Masterlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

November 3rd, 1972

“—Let the children lose it!”

“Let the children use it—“

“—“Let all the children boogie!”

Sirius and James were perched on top of the table in the Gryffindor Common Room, scream-singing along to Starman while the rest of them watched in amusement.

She leaned towards Remus on the couch beside her, “I’m beginning to regret buying him his own copy of Ziggy Stardust…”

“You’re not the one that has to live with him—“ Remus deadpanned, watching carefully as Sirius launched himself off of the table, leaping gracefully onto the rug by the fireplace. His 13th birthday fell on a Friday this year, meaning the party in Gryffindor Tower was bound to be an all-night affair. School proverbially kicked her ass the past week, but she knew that Sirius needed all of them to be there tonight, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

A week prior she had watched as Sirius approached Regulus about coming to his birthday party. They had some free time in-between classes, and took to lounging on the South Lawn in the unseasonably warm afternoon air. Mid-conversation, Sirius visibly checked out, staring off towards the castle. She caught his change in demeanor, following his eyes to find Regulus chatting with two other Slytherin first-years near the open courtyard door.

She tapped him with her foot, “Go talk to him.”

Sirius gave her a look, turning his focus back to the textbook in his lap.

“Siri, he’s your brother—“

“—yeah and he’s made it abundantly clear he doesn’t want to associate with the ‘stain’ on the Black Family name,” the bitterness in his voice was palpable.

She rolled her eyes; were all purebloods this dramatic?

“You’re gonna have to speak to him sometime, mate, Christmas holiday is coming up,” Remus didn’t even look up from his book. Sirius pretending to ignore him.

She tipped the front of his textbook down to get his attention, “Why don’t you invite him to your party? Tell him to bring his friends!”

Sirius glanced back over towards his younger brother, thinking the notion over.

“What d’you have to lose?” She leaned back on her elbows again, closing her eyes and basking in the warmth of the sun.

The sound of his book falling onto the grass caused her to look up, watching as he briskly made a beeline over towards Regulus. They were too far away to hear the conversation, but when Sirius turned back around, the expression on his face said everything she needed to know. As he sat back down beside her, she glanced back.

The two first-years were laughing in Sirius’ direction, Regulus standing stone-faced in-between.

“What’d he say?” Remus asked.

Sirius picked up his discarded textbook, “I’d rather not repeat it.”

———

The morning of his birthday, Sirius received a roaring rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ at breakfast, eventually growing into an entire Gryffindor House serenade. As red as his face was, you could tell he loved the attention. He hadn’t received so much as an owl from his family, something she was already expecting, which led her to bring his birthday gift to breakfast rather than waiting until later that night. Ziggy Stardust had been released that summer, and after listening to the first track she knew Sirius would love it. He tore open the brown paper ravenously, and when he saw the name David Bowie emblazoned on the cover, his blue eyes flashed to hers.

“I could kiss you right now—“

She made a face at him from across the table, “Please don’t, I’d love to keep my food down.”

Smirking, she went back to her breakfast, while Sirius handed the album to Remus for him to inspect. His excitement was short-lived, because the next time she glanced across the table he was staring longingly at Regulus.

While she had stacked classes all day, the Gryffindor boys had a free day after morning Transfiguration. Remus let her know later that day that Sirius had apparently been blasting his new record over and over much to the disdain of Lily Evans, who’s record player he had completely commandeered.

Ziggy was the soundtrack to the night, Sirius becoming more and more erratic as the party went on. Everyone seemed to be having a fun time, but she couldn’t help but worry about him. After a particularly sloppy rendition of It Ain’t Easy, Sirius flopped beside her on the couch by the fireplace, smiling ear to ear as he leaned his head back. She didn’t say a word as she watched his eyes close, humming along to Star.

“Having a good birthday?” She asked, voice low as Sirius lolled his head to the side.

His eyes were slightly bloodshot as he grinned, “The best.”

She giggled, “What’re you so smiley for?”

“Wanna know a secret?” He whispered, the tiny glimmer of mischief that she knew very well was prominent in his eyes.

“Uh…sure?” She was apprehensive when it came to one of Sirius’ ‘secrets’. They were usually something that would get them all in huge trouble, like that time last year when he surprised James with a “secret” pick-up game of quidditch for his birthday. It was all just an excuse to fly around in the invisibility cloak and throw dungbombs at the Slytherin team.

Sirius grabbed her hand and led her up to the boys dormitory, turning around to shush her dramatically as the door creaked open. Making a beeline for his trunk, he began to dig through piles of clothes and other paraphernalia until emerging with a bottle of brownish-red liquid.

“Ta-da!” He presented it to her like a precious relic.

She took the bottle and read the label: Ogden’s Finest Firewhisky.

“Sirius—“ she whispered, “—are you drunk?”

He grinned devilishly at her, “Nicked it from my parents over the summer. Thought I’d start 13 off with a little bit of fun!”

Her eyes didn’t leave the bottle as she shook her head.

“Wanna try some?” He quickly grabbed it back, taking a swig of the amber liquor as she watched in mild horror.

“Siri—stop!” She ripped it out of his hands, splashing some onto the floor by their feet.

“What’re you doing!” He glared at her angrily, reaching back for the bottle but ultimately failing.

“Me? What’re you doing?!” Her eyes narrowed as he swayed slightly on his feet.

“I’m trying to have a good time—“ he began to match her energy, adopting a similar prickly tone.

“—no you’re not, you’re hiding,” she tried to speak more calmly; upsetting him on his birthday was the last thing she wanted.

Sirius scoffed at the accusation, “I’m not hiding, I’m right here, you know exactly where I am.”

“No I don’t…none of us do. Physically yes, you’re here, but mentally you’re—somewhere else that I can’t find you.”

“…what’s that supposed to mean?” His eyes narrowed.

She sighed, “I get it—you’re fighting with Reg, but you don’t need to shut us out—“

“—You don’t know shit about what’s going on with my family,“ his voice rose, a jolt of panic striking her body.

“Because you won’t let any of us in!” She yelled, the frustration that was Sirius Black finally getting to her.

“Fine! You wanna hear about my brother? About how poor little Reggie sits in the pocket of my mother, obeying her every command while she moulds him into the perfect little Black heir? Or maybe about my father, of how he pretends I don’t even exist anymore; I’m just a ghost, haunting the upper floors of the house when I’m home on holiday.”

Eyes wide, she watched him grow more irate as he went on.

“—and my mother. Oh, yes, you’d love to hear more about her. The proudest pureblood you’ll ever meet. What a shame she raised a filthy little blood-traitor, who spends his time running around with muggleborns and the lower class—“

“Siri, I—“

“—You met her, back in Diagon Alley, remember? Lovely woman, a bit too shrill in my opinion,” his voice was humorless as he smiled, walking closer towards her, “D’you wanna know what happens, when the heir to one of the oldest pureblood families in Wizarding history dares to stray?”

She couldn’t move. Every muscle had turned to stone as she watched Sirius rip his shirt over his head.

Scars, thin silver striations ran across his shoulders, some stretching onto his chest. They were small enough to hide, but those that knew what they were would stop in their tracks.

People like her.

The Lacero curse was mentioned in passing last year in her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, when they briefly discussed Unforgivables. Thought not illegal, cutting curses were very much frowned upon, especially when used against a living being.

She reached out a cautious hand to touch the faint marks on his right collarbone, “Sirius…did she…did she do this to you?”

He looked at her, and all she could see was a blaze of resentment and anger, “Not just me…” he growled.

Oh god, she thought, Regulus.

“I’m sorry,” she choked, tears beginning to form as she mapped the scars wrapping over his shoulder. As her hand traveled to his back, she pulled him closer and hugged him. For a moment he didn’t move, arms remaining tense at his sides, but after a few seconds she felt him melt. Sirius gripped tightly onto her, barely audible sniffles quickly turning into heaving sobs as he dug the tips of his fingers into her back. She held him for what seemed like hours, gently scratching down his spine while he let out every single pent up emotion that he’d been harboring since god knows when.

Finally, as the sobs slowed, Sirius pulled away, eyes rimmed red and sniffling slightly.

“We were supposed to do this together,” he whispered, “Me and Reg. We always talked about what it would be like when we were both at Hogwarts, all of the fun things we’d get up to—”

Her heart broke as the devastation hemorrhaged through his voice.

“—when I went home for Christmas last year, he was…different. Then this summer, he wouldn’t even acknowledge me…” his voice broke as it trailed off.

She ran a hand through his messy black hair, “I’m sorry Sirius—for everything. Maybe…maybe Regulus will come around once he’s been at Hogwarts for a little longer? He’ll see what it’s like—“

He shook his head, “No, he won’t. He’s surrounded on all sides by pureblood elitists and you-know-who sympathizers…”

Her blood ran cold, “You know about him?”

His eyes flicked to hers, “Of course, it’s all my parents talk about. They’re always hosting some ‘secret meeting’ in the dining room, or entertaining foreign wizards in the parlor. I never stick around long enough to hear what’s actually happening though.”

James was right, the Black Family was involved with you-know-who. The thought made her sick, even more so when she looked Sirius in the eye. The normal piercing blue was clouded and dark like a storm. He knew what his parents were involved in, the full gravity of the entire thing, and he was just helpless in stopping it. Sirius was nothing like them, the Sorting Hat had seen that immediately, and up until this moment she hadn’t understood it fully.

He sighed, raking a hair through his knotty hair, “How mad d’you think James would be if I just went to bed?”

“If he wants to be mad at anyone, he can be mad at me. I’ll tell him I forced you to,” she smiled softly at his tired face.

He stumbled towards his bed, shin making contact with the corner of his trunk.

“Need help?” She laughed as he held up two fingers in response, “Goodnight Siri.”

As she walked towards the door, Sirius rolled to face the wall, curling up under the scarlet quilt, “Goodnight Yellowjacket,” he mumbled as she shut the door.

Trotting down the stairs, the party was still in full swing, save a few first years that were now sleeping on the floor near the fireplace. Remus was leaning against the windows talking to Lily, who smiled as she walked up.

Remus’ eyebrows raised as she handed him the bottle of firewhisky.

“I’m gonna go back to my dorm,” she said as Lily excused herself to join Mary by the reclaimed record player.

Still staring at the bottle, Remus gave her a one-armed hug.

“Please take care of Sirius, he’s asleep upstairs. Don’t tell James,” she whispered, and Remus instantly connected the dots, nodding in agreement. On her way out of the common room she quickly kissed James on the cheek, too enthralled by Lily dancing to formulate a verbal goodbye.

#sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fic #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #james potter fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #Sirius Black angst #Remus Lupin angst #regulus black angst #harry potter fan fiction #marauders era x reader #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era imagine

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somedaynotsoon · 4 months ago

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Super Small Stardust Saga, Chapter 5

"Captain Skylor bootycalls a fox"

This chapter will be a little bit on the shorter side.

As usual, this is a Cohost archived post. The formatting is busted. Feedback is always appreciated, thanks!

... You're lonely, you've decided.

...This might have something to do with that.

It's difficult to get to sleep when you're this excited and anxious. You're going to explore the universe tomorrow, and you really didn't get to express those feelings. And it's difficult to express them aboard a pillow several times your size. Granted, the pillow's got a cozy mini-mattress-suite for you, and you're actually not too lost on the pillow. But still. You're understimulated. And you've mulled it over long enough to know what you want.

You sit up in bed and offer a simple request. "Computer, ping Nadira and tell her to report to the Captain's Quarters. Privately. Please don't announce it to the whole ship."

The loudspeaker comes on for what you can obviously tell is the whole ship, then goes off again as you finish your request. You breathe a sigh of relief, but doubtless much of the crew now knows someone just tried to use the intercom close to midnight. Geez. Next time, you're going to lead your commands the other way around.

The door to your bedroom opens automatically for Nadira as she arrives. She's silhouetted by the hall light, which is always on when occupied. She steps in without announcing herself, her winter boots producing squeaks on the floor. She takes them off as she enters. The door closes behind her and the light slowly fades up some to avoid the tripping hazard.

"...Where's the... oh I forgot the Captain was a Sellan again on the way over." Nadira blinks as she tries to find you on your own bed. She steps closer. The room shakes slightly, at least from your perspective. Nadira sort of has a plodding gait because she's used to wearing her boots, you suppose.

"Thank you for coming over, Nadira! I was hoping the both of us could hang out. I'm really anxious and lonely and I haven't had anyone to vent to. It's just been an age and I might be touch-starved. I hope it's not too out of line to ask for a snuggle?"

Nadira shushes you as you finish. "We are Princesses of illustrious stature and spectacular repute. Justifications between our kind are only for the lesser nobles to dispute over. And we lack an audience, do we not? So says I, Nadira III. 'Just say what's on your mind and we shall handle it, Princess Skylor.'" The eyes on her snake-head close, but her eye-spots on her fox-head remain open. You suppose that settles it about which ones are her real eyes. You don't stare, though, not that she can probably see you that well in this light.

"I...uhm. Wanted a playmate and think you're cute?" You try again, sitting up in bed and feeling awkward.

Nadira approaches. She kneels beside your bed, looking at you atop the pillow closely. She stops trying to hide the fact that her serpent-crown is looking at you - she seems to have turned off that prey paranoia instinct in your company. That's nice. You smile at her and blush sheepishly.

"The Captain thinks I'm cute..." Nadira purrs dreamily, lost in thought. She snaps to attention, and rises to her feet. "We understand completely, your majesty. The position of your kingdom is clear to us. Clad in naught but bra and panties, you have invited us to your most sacred of realms to confide in our power as a fellow royal. There is much wisdom in your choice. We shall not disappoint."

With that, Nadira re-approaches the door, and makes a sweeping hand motion out into the air. The lights lower to a thin, wispy darkness, hiding Nadira from you over this distance. The Phosfynx in silhouette strips off her sweater and hat(s) and tosses them atop her boots, before fussing with something at her hips. She re-approaches your bed, and hops aboard, her intentions to comply with your request for a playmate crystal clear.

You take one look at her and nearly snort with laughter. "...S-sorry, the eye spots make you look bored. The bigger face is all I can focus on from this perspective!"

Sort of a rude thing to say, but the Translator seemed to handle it elegantly. Nadira laughed, then bounced in her seat. "Certainly! Let's eliminate your distraction, like so-"

[For those curious] [The Translator handled this by altering it significantly. Nadira heard "Could you wipe that dumb look off your face? Your eyes are in the way!"

Acknowledging the Phosfynx' eye spots is a no-go, so the Translator just made the request sound nonsensical and outside the purview of typical realistic expectations. This sounds a lot more like a joke, which is just in better taste over all.]

And then Nadira lifted her paw and swept it across her face, smearing off that goofy bored expression.

Nadira gave a small, yet triumphant chuckle.

"So! What do you think? Do you need a closer look?"

You look up at her. She seems more exuberant, somehow. "I can see you perfectly! Thank you for the offer, though!"

"Oho. My princess has misunderstood. I meant of my panties!" Nadira scooches forward, your view of her face immediately thwarted by lingerie and fluff. As a reminder, your height as a human rivals that of the thickness of a sheet of paper so Nadira's panties were all you could perceive forwards and to the sides when they were this close. A feminine excitement lingered in the air like a mist.

You gulp.

"Your undies..."

"Your palace!" the fox alien chirps with a gleeful fervor. "We insist, tour them at your leisure~!"

"E-eh!?"

You don't have time to wait for a reply. A paw lowers and swipes you from your perch, rolling your tiny body along the endless fuzzy plains of Nadira's underwear before you disappear into the fluff of her fur. Her waistband is hidden, but that doesn't stop her from finding it, poking it open and dropping you inside with little ceremony. Darkness swipes over you, and you are pressed tightly. You don't even squirm or resist.

"I'll be confiscating you to my room. I can't be seen leaving yours in the morning, you understand. We may play more enthusiastically in the morning. For now, sleep well, fellow princess!"

You are held betwixt Nadira's thighs in a tight squeeze, rolled down her body as she gets up and re-dresses herself. As she walks back to her own room, you settle beneath her crotch, held tightly against her body, and the pressure lulls you comfortably to sleep. ...Oh, so that's what was wrong! You needed a firmer bed!

The following morning... {To Chapter 6}

#macro #micro #macro/micro #micro/macro #giantess

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yandecifi · 2 months ago

Text

What It Means to Be Made of Stardust

☆ chapter one

⋆ masterlist

⋆ cw: child abuse, sa, mental illness

hawks/reader, psychological, wip longfic

You can feel him behind you. His hips are snapping into yours, his breath ragged and close to your ear. Despite this, you can still hear the whirr of the ceiling fan. It’s strangely loud.

You can see him from the corner of your eye. Wings spread wide, one hand against your back while the other shoves your head into the mattress - you really only feel the last two. You go to speak. You can’t.

Aizawa’s speaking at the lectern, hands gripping the sides as you watch his lips move. You can’t seem to hear him speak.

Whirrrrrr.

“…went to Hawks.” You jolt at your name. “It’s up to you if you want to continue your internship at the same agency.” A shaky breath leaves you as you realize he’s not calling on you. “That’ll be all.” The class erupts into chatter as Aizawa turns to his desk.

“Are you going back to Gang Orca’s?”

“Haha! Yeah, I think I will too!”

“Last time was fun!”

“You and Tokoyami going back to Hawks?”

It takes a moment for the question to register. It came from Kaminari, who’s turned around in his seat and staring at you expectantly.

“Uh.” You blink. Then, you grin, leaning forward on your desk. You can’t seem to hold eye contact with him. “Duh! Where else?”

“If only I could intern with a friend.” A second voice chimes in from behind. You turn, though you already know who it is. “You and Hawks hang out, like, all the time.” Mina then leans in, a hand over her mouth as she looks around. “I bet Tokoyami’s jealous.”

You laugh. “Oh, c’mon. We both know he’s not the type.”

“Okay, true, but it’s still crazy how well you two get along.”

“Yeah, doesn’t he, like,” Kaminari squints at you, "pick you up from school?”

You open your mouth to respond, but Mina’s faster. “Every Friday, Kam! Every friggin' Friday!”

“Whaaat?” You awkwardly laugh as the blonde stares at you, mouth open comically wide.

“Is he replacing Mina or something?”

“Denki!” The pink girl suddenly leans over, pulling you into a bear hug. “Take that back!”

“Guys, guys.” You manage to placate them. “I just hang out with him sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”

“But you haven’t been hanging out with us!” Mina’s grip suddenly tightens, forcing a choked cough out of you. “Am I actually being replaced?”

“What? No, Mina - please let go I can’t breathe- ” She jumps back, releasing you. Kaminari's got a dumb grin on his face.

“Turning a bit red there, huh?”

“Shut up.” Right as you’re about to tell off the cheeky fucker, someone hits the side of your head. You look over like they’d just called your name.

“Food’s gonna be gone if you don’t hurry up, losers.” He’s beauty, he’s grace, he’s all scowls and frowns on that disdain-filled face. It’s Bakugo. If you can’t tell, it’s Bakugo.

“Oh, shit.” The three of you look around the room. Most of the class is gone already, save for Sero waiting at the door and Aizawa-Sensei sleeping at his desk. God, what wouldn’t you give for a nap right now? You’re running on, like, four hours of sleep.

Mina lets out a small, panicked squeal as she drags you from your seat. Kaminari, Bakugo, and Sero follow just behind as she leads the way to the cafeteria.

“Oh no, the chicken’s gonna be all gone!” You lift a brow at Mina as she pulls you along.

“You like chicken?”

“No, but you do! Last time it was out you looked like you were gonna cry!”

“What?” You burst out laughing. “When did that happen?”

“I don’t know - like, a couple months ago? Doesn’t matter!” Your laughing dies down.

“Oh.” Right.

Right, the day after your sixteenth birthday, when you’d shown up to school dressed in a tank and sweats that weren’t yours. You had changed into a spare uniform in Recovery Girl’s office and spent the entire day in a state of aloofness.

“You guys excited for your internships?” Mina’s voice makes you flinch out of your skin.

“Hell yeah! Who isn’t?” You feel Kaminari poke your side after a moment. “Except for this one.”

“Huh?” Your face scrunches up as you turn back to face him. “I am, though!”

“Uhh, okay, sure.” You hear Mina giggle as the blonde rolls his eyes. “Why are you so not excited, then?”

“Yeah, you went crazy last time.” Mina joins in as she pulls you around a corner. “You didn’t stop talking about Hawks for weeks when you got accepted. Now you don’t talk about him at all.”

“Guys, guys!” The five of you push past the cafeteria doors. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m excited! If I knew you wanted me to tell you more about Hawks-”

“No, God, please, that is not what I meant.” Mina scoffs as she pushes through small circles of chatting students, holding hands with you as she makes her way through the crowd. “I’m just worried.”

“What? About what?”

“I mean, you’ve just been so withdrawn lately, y’know?” She looks over her shoulder for a moment, black eyes meeting yours. “Something on your mind?”

Ever the socialite, Mina’s ability to see through even the slightest change in behavior is astonishing. She’s so good at it, in fact, that she can apparently notice your unusual behavior before you can.

“I’m… withdrawn?” Your voice comes out small as she leads you and the guys to the regular table.

“Uh, yeah.” You turn to look at Sero as he speaks with an obvious tone. “You don’t talk, don’t pay attention - you even avoid us in the dorms. Did you think we didn’t notice?” His quirked eyebrow and accusing eyes leave you fumbling for an explanation.

“No, no I just-”

“Are you guys making fun of her again?” The teasing voice comes from the table you’ve stopped at. “You never give her a break!”

“Not this time, Kiri.” Mina and Kaminari slide in next to Sero while you join Bakugo and Kirishima. They quickly form their own little world, the redhead chattering away as he shows off something on his phone. Bakugo grunts along every now and then with crossed arms.

“So, you going to say something?”

The words that come from Kaminari make you freeze up. You look at him - golden eyes, golden hair - the question rolling around in your head.

The room is dark.

“So, you going to say something?”

“I don’t…” Your words are broken up by panting breaths. Your head’s hot and fuzzy. “…know your name.”

He grunts in response as the grip on your wrists tightens.

“What?” Your brows furrow as he burrows his head into your neck again.

You feel bile rise up in your throat.

“I don’t-” You cut yourself off, gasping as he bites into your shoulder. “I don’t want to.”

“Say it.” He licks where he’d bitten you. “Or I’ll give you a

hickey.”

“Huh?” You slap a hand over your neck. “What?”

“I said,” Mina huffs, “it’s no biggie. If something’s on your mind, tell us. Maybe we can help.”

“No, no. Nothing’s on my mind. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Everything’s been… weird with you, lately.” Kirishima's slumped over on the table, a concerned look on his face.

“Guys. I’m fine. Seriously. I’ve just been out of it.”

Mina frowns. “You promise?”

“Yes, Mina.” You laugh a bit. “I promise. Can we go get food now?”

“Fiiine.”

You shuffle out of the table with the rest of your group, nodding along with Mina as she complains about finding foundation in her color. You try not to think about it. It. You have no name for it.

You enjoy naming things, usually. It gives whatever you’re naming some personality, some life - maybe that’s why you haven’t given it a name. You’d prefer it staying in that tiny recess you’ve made in your mind, far, far away from everything else that is real.

“Yay! Look, they have chicken!” You smile at Mina as she excitedly points at the dish.

It. It. You have no name for it. You want to keep it that way. Let’s keep it that way. Let’s keep it that way?

“Let’s keep it that way.”

You stare out of the car window. Buildings and people fly by.

You try not to squirm.

You flick your eyes to your father’s. His gaze, one that has been shamelessly taking you in, immediately wrenches itself back to the road. You’ve learned that he always stares at you when you’re not looking.

You turn back to the window. The only thing you can hear is the gravelly sound of the car’s tires speeding down the road.

A quiet lisp catches your ears. You don’t turn your head, though your attention is fully on the sound. You already know what it is. It's your father, mouth contorting, opening, and closing in rapid succession, hands gesturing to someone who isn’t there. He’s speaking like a mime, face fully and angrily animated as he mutely talks to nobody.

Your thumb rubs soothing circles up and down the back of your hand.

“Thank you.” You say to Lunch Runch, punching in your lunch number.

“Should I post this?” Mina shoves her phone in your face, a photo of her and Kirishima singing on screen.

“Mhm.” You take a nice, deep breath. “It’s cute. Where’d you take it?”

“At the sleepover Saturday.” She scowls as she brings the phone back. “You should’ve been there. Then I’d be posting a bunch of cute photos of you.”

“Minaa,” you whine, laughing a bit. “I’m sorry! I'm training with Hawks on weekends.”

“He sucks.” She mumbles. You frown when you see she’s genuinely upset.

“No, Mina, he doesn’t.” He really doesn’t. “Um, how about I watch a movie with you tonight?”

“You’re not gonna fall asleep?” Her narrowed eyes shoot to you, honing in on you instead of her phone. You feel a bit nervous under her harsh gaze.

“I won’t.”

“You’re not gonna bail last minute?” You wince. She’s definitely trying to rub in any guilt you’re feeling.

“I won’t.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“YAY!” Her mood does a complete 180. She’s got a beaming smile on her face as she leans in and gives you a one-armed hug, her food nearly sliding off of her tray in the process. You stiffen, caught off guard - and then you melt. Your face warms up. You shyly pull your tray a little closer.

“Duude, what the hell?” The two of you look over at whatever’s got Sero mock gagging. It’s Kaminari, who’s shakily holding his tray with one hand and squeezing a mayo packet with the other. Squeezing mayo onto his already almost entirely white hamburger, that is.

“What, man? It’s just mayonnaise!”

“That’s your fifth packet!”

“God, Kam, what’s wrong with you?” To your disappointment, Mina draws away from you and joins their banter. You watch as Kaminari desperately tries to defend his questionably large amount of mayo, the group letting out loud laughs and retching noises. Except Bakugo, obviously, because he’s too busy staring at you.

You flinch, nearly dropping your tray. “Jes-”

“Jesus.” He curses for you, reaching out a hand to steady the tray. “Calm down.”

“I am calm.” He retracts his hand. “You just scared me.”

He snorts. “You’re such a pussy”

“Asshole.”

“Pussy.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to look annoyed, though your smile betrays you. He just always has to have the last word, doesn’t he?

You and your friends reach your table soon after. Kaminari and Mina chat as they sit down, Bakugo begins neatly eating his meal, Kirishima babbles about upcoming classes, and Sero’s still staring at Kaminari's burger with a mix of awe and disgust. You spend the rest of lunch on your phone. You do, however, occasionally throw a word or two into the group's conversations.

Once lunch ends, the rest of the day passes like usual. You get through English and Math just fine. Well, you’ve been assigned an essay, so you’re feeling a bit shitty - your final class doesn’t make up for it, either. Hero Studies! It’s an exciting class, sure, but it’s left you exhausted. It was tougher than usual. Your friends disagree.

“You kidding? He went easy on us, honestly.”

“Really?” Sero nods, leaning back on the dorm couch. Mina is sitting next to you, munching on a bag of chips that she offers you every five minutes. Bakugo and Kaminari are having an intense gaming session on the carpet in front of the couch, controllers audibly clicking and probably breaking. Kirishima cheers them on.

“Really. Yeah, we might’ve sparred each other-” Kaminari's groan of defeat interrupts temporarily. He must’ve lost, considering the way Bakugo’s raising his controller with a snarky grin. “But it was really just analysis. Working on our weaknesses and stuff, y’know?” Sero reaches for Mina’s chips as he speaks. She smacks his hand away.

“I guess. Yeah.” You watch Bakugo flaunt his unimportant victory like he’s just won the Grand Prix.

“Maybe you’re sore from last week’s classes?” Mina smacks away Sero’s second attempt at chips. You hum in response, reaching for the bag.

“Yeah, that’s probably it.” Mina gives you easy access, and you leave with a good handful of chips. You have to hold back a smile at Sero’s quiet ‘what the fuck?’.

“Excuse me?” You jolt at the familiar voice. You turn to face the door, the rest of your friends curious and leaning over as well. It is weird, after all, because what could Aizawa be here for?

Your teacher doesn’t look happy. He never does, but it’s a bit more apparent right now - his voice is sharp as he says your name and he’s holding open the front door like he doesn’t want to be there. “Your father’s in the parking lot.”

Fuck.

Your face scrunches up in what can only be described as a mix of a cringe and a wince. You turn away, like maybe you can just go back to what you were doing - but no, the sound of the door slamming shut brings you back to reality.

God. Fucking.

This is the third time in the past two weeks. To cut it short, he’s mad at you because you aren’t coming home on weekends. You aren’t returning his calls or texts, either, and that has him practically steaming at the ears.

‘Fuck’ is written all over your demeanor as you keel over, hiding your face in your hands. Your friends watch in silence.

You know, logically, you shouldn’t be doing that. You know he’s just going to keep coming to school, that he’s just going to keep getting angry at you until you answer his damn calls and visit his lonely ass. But the satisfaction you’re getting, even when this isn’t helping anything at all - ugh! So therapeutic! Yes, you’re petty, but the knowledge that you have this one power over him feels good.

“You gonna tell your old man to leave?” Your head lifts at Bakugo’s gruff voice. “Sensei’s lookin’ real tired of it.”

You push yourself off of the couch. Bakugo is right - your teacher looks done with this. You need to grow up.

“I’ll be right back, guys.” You trudge to the front door. A chorus of ‘see you’s and ‘be back soon’s follow you out. You can’t help but curse again, though, when you hear their chatter pick up as the door shuts.

You notice it’s gotten cooler since earlier. There’s a breeze now, rustling your hair and the trees as you walk across campus. It kind of helps the pit in your stomach.

You hate this song and dance but keep doing it. You hate when he bitterly vents everything annoying him onto you, when he justifies it because you haven’t talked to him in a while, you’re ‘catching up’ - you hate seeing him. You hate his energy. You hate the aftertaste he leaves behind. You hate him.

You’re afraid. Yes, deep down, you’re afraid, though you’d never admit it aloud. That’s what the pit is: the bundle of nerves you’ve been shoving down since Aizawa said ‘father’.

You spot your teacher up ahead on the cement path. Great, you think, you can apologize in advance for your father’s passive aggressiveness.

“Aizawa-Sensei!” You shout, jogging to catch up. He pauses and turns to face you. You’re glad to see he’s waiting for you - he doesn’t totally hate you, yet. He even slows his pace when the two of you start walking again. “I’m sorry about him. Again.”

He sighs, bringing a hand up to pinch his nose. “I understand you can’t control your father.” You stare down at your feet. “But this - it isn’t any of U.A’s business.”

He’s being… direct, this time, huh?

“Right.” You swallow. “Sorry, Sensei.”

The rest of the walk is silent. You don’t mind, and neither does your teacher. He’s never been all that talkative and you’re afraid of pissing him off further.

Your hands start to fiddle with each other the closer you get to the parking lot. You can see the U.A gate, now - the front entrance. He’s probably just outside it. The last time you saw him he was raging, absolutely furious that you hadn’t listened to him. How will he react this time?

“He's right over there.” Your steps stutter to a halt. Your teacher has stopped at the bottom of the small staircase, farther than the last two times. He probably doesn’t want to hear it when your Dad raises his voice.

You don’t turn back to face him. For some reason, you can only seem to focus on the pacing figure that’s circling just outside the gate. It reminds you of a piranha.

“Okay.” You finally look back at your teacher. “Just, uh - can you not leave?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, his brows furrow, his mouth opening, no doubt to say something. A distant shout cuts him off.

You turn back to the gate. The piranha has stopped circling, it’s spotted you - it shouts something loosely resembling your name.

“Uh, okay,” You’re speaking to yourself at that moment. The nerves are getting to you. “I’ll be right back.”

“Alright.”

You start the descent. Continue it, really, since you’ve been on the descent since Aizawa opened the door. Your heart’s been beating faster and faster, your breathing speeding up - the knowledge that he’s waiting for you and mad always holds you in a state of suspense. Paralysis, really.

The suspense is coming to its peak. Your thumb’s digging into your hand, your steps quick but short. You want to take your time, piss him off, look like you could care less that he’s here - but with his eyes on you and what feels like no way of escape, you are a cornered animal. Your eyes drag through your surroundings. You’re looking at everything besides the man waiting for you.

You want to see Hawks. Just the thought of him brings a small smile to your face. Then you remember yesterday, and you start rubbing both sides of your neck with your hands.

You don’t realize how fucked up your vision is until you’re passing the U.A gate. You’ve got… what? It feels like a film over your sight, everything looks wonky - it’s like, like… you can’t quite put your finger on it.

Your breath hitches when you realize you’re here. You’re here. Your father’s right in front of you.

It doesn’t feel like that. You stare at him, him and his strange expression, and he feels surreal.

“Hi.” You say, eyes wide. You’re staring at him but not really - you’re staring at whatever this thing is doing to your vision. This… feeling.

Your father’s face is tight. Neutral, at first glance, but then you see the way his jaw is clenched and his eyes. You can never seem to stare directly into them, like they’ll burn you like the sun. They’re so intense when he’s angry.

He really is like the sun, in a way. Bright, glaring, making sure he’s always in your life despite being so far away from it - omnipotent, yet doesn’t even have a brain. He sees everything and yet you can’t look directly at him. He’s, though you’ll never admit it, intimidating.

He doesn’t respond to your greeting. He just stares down at you with those eyes, the fists at his side clenching and unclenching, and the way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s picturing all the ways he could break you limb by limb.

He grinds out his first sentence. You don’t think you hear him right.

“What?”

“We’re going home.” He repeats. You blink up at him with the stupidest face. Then, you look away, processing his words properly.

“Oh, uh.” You try to find a way to put this without accidentally siccing him on you. “I’m not allowed to leave campus.”

“I’m unenrolling you.”

“What?” For the first time, you're the first to raise your voice. Your head jerks back up to him and you cannot believe what you just heard because that must’ve been a fucking joke.

“You clearly don’t appreciate everything I do for you.” You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. “I’m tired of working so hard for a - for a bitch.”

Your eyebrows furrow, your mouth opening and shutting like a confused carp. He - what?

Were you a bitch? He has been working your whole life. You should be grateful for that.

He grasps one of your shoulders, tight like iron, pressing into that specific spot that makes you shrink and squirm. “We’re going home.”

You look down at your shoulder. You’re involuntarily holding onto his wrist.

What would Hawks do? What would Hawks say? Would he agree? Would he tell you you’re a bitch? No, no, he would - he would -

“You - you -“ You feel your eyes start to burn as you try prying him off of your shoulder. It doesn’t hurt, per say - it just feels wrong. He’s pressing it wrong.

“You - you -“ He mocks like a child, his seemingly calm demeanor suddenly changing to that of a fucking schoolboy. He makes a face to go with it, even, and you stare at him in shock because he’s never done that before. His voice is condescending, nearly joyful as he leans down. “What? Fucking what?” His free hand holds onto your other shoulder. Though it doesn’t press into you like the other, it still makes you want to get away.

He sticks his face in close and then shakes you violently, his strength legitimately starting to scare you. You can’t wriggle out of his grip. You can’t get away.

This is different. This is different. This is uncharted territory - you’re feeling a different sort of fear. No, dread? Apprehension? Disgust?

Disgust because you didn’t think your father was capable of acting in this stupid, unbelievable way, because you knew he was bad but he’s never -

he has.

You can’t speak. Even when he stops shaking you, you can’t move, and this is that paralysis - you’re stuck. You can’t do anything. You’re at the mercy of your own mind and your father’s rage.

Is this how your mother felt?

You turn to look at Aizawa. Luckily, he’s seeing what’s happening, and has just started on a brisk walk. A walk with purpose - like a missile honing in on it’s target.

You should probably yell. Scream, make a scene, something - but your thoughts are too busy clouding your head up. You can’t think straight. You just feel scared, you’re scared, your father’s pulling you by the elbow. Fuck, fuck, you need to stop - he’s dragging you to the car.

“Dad!” You manage, digging your heels into the ground. It slows him down a bit, makes him struggle to continue pulling you along, and relief floods your system because maybe everything’s fine, but then he yanks you forward with more strength than you thought possible.

“Hey!” You hear, and your teacher has broken into a run, but the bulldozer that is your father doesn’t stop for a second. You stumble as he drags your heels along the concrete, he’s gripping your arm so tight it hurts, the door to the car’s opening - ah, shit -

The door slams shut the moment you hit the backseat of your car. His car. He’s mumbling curses as he hurriedly hops into the front seat, fumbling with his keys.

You sit up so fucking fast. You press yourself against the door so fucking fast, hands nearly tearing the handle off, but the door doesn’t open and the engines are already roaring.

You frantically look out the window. You’re already pulling out of the parking space. Your teacher follows, banging on the front seat window and shouting for your Dad to open the door. Your Dad, meanwhile, is acting like he isn’t even there.

Your teacher stops yelling and banging when the car is fully out of the parking space. Instead, he runs back inside U.A, which is logically the best decision but he’s leaving. He’s leaving. You’re alone.

You’re not, actually, not if you count the man in the front seat.

Hunched over like he’s driving a race car, which he kind of is with the way he’s going fifty in a twenty, he is entirely frightening. From his unusual posture, to the way he’s whisper-yelling to nobody, to the way he’s breathing heavier than you - oh, you should calm down.

Your lungs are on autopilot. They don’t even finish a breath before they take in another, they’re forcing your mouth open so you can take in more air though it somehow feels like less.

You need to calm down. You need to calm down. This isn’t happening, right? You’re fine. Calm down.

Your father slams his fist onto the dash. “Shut up!” You were already quiet, though, or you swear you were - is it your breathing? It’s hard to tell how loud your gasping is when all you're focused on is the panic clawing up your throat.

What’s going to happen? You’re alone with your Dad. He’s taking you somewhere. Where? Home? What’s he going to do when you get there? Oh, God, what’s he going to do?

A part of you tells you why. It shows you why - he’s going to fly into a rage, he’s going to do you like he did Mom -

So you sit there. You’re paralyzed. Your back is pressing into the corner of the seat, hands wrapped tight around the handle that just won’t budge, eyes bulging and unblinkingly trained on the man your mind is violently fantasizing about.

None of it is fantasy.

Or, at least that’s what your mind tells you for the rest of the ride.

#bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #fanfic #angst #hawks fanfic #hawks x reader

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shivunin · 2 years ago

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WIP Whenever

Tagged by @zenstrike---thanks for the tag, Zen! I am under strict orders (from myself) not to open any of my writing docs until next Wednesday at the earliest, so I will also do a list of the things I still intend to finish.

Tagging @greypetrel and @ndostairlyrium, and as always no pressure (and if anyone else is working on something cool they'd like to show off, please consider this an open tag as well) c:

Inquisition:

Triptych: (Elowen/Cullen) This is my almost--kind of--not really a love triangle fic. I wanted to explore the aftermath of breaking up with Solas since the game doesn't really address how Lavellan feels directly afterward. So this is kind of a "who am I when I'm not yours?" kind of a story with a slow burn besides.

The Red Crossing Arrangement: (Adahlena/Cullen) I've said plenty about this AU, but it's a world in which the Second Exalted March never happened and the elves live in autonomous nations in the Dirthavaren/Halamshiral regions (more specific explanation here). In order to seal the peace accords, Lavellan has to choose a husband from among human representatives.

Big Bang fic: I can't say much about this! But this one is Salshira/Cullen, very grand in scale and full of pain and action and I am excited about it c:

Various Book of Memories chapters: I have mostly finished Leander and Adhlea's disastrous first visit to the Chantry and I also have a questionable nightmare chapter, which...might be too sad to post. I haven't decided yet haha. Also an extension of the oaths piece I posted here.

Shoulder the Skies: Avvar AU (Elowen/Cullen), focused on language, communication, and cultural transmission (loosely inspired by various ME first contact/translator off AUs)

Saltwater and Sea-Strand: (Emma/Cullen) Mermaid AU! I originally intended to finish this for Mermay and....uh that could still technically happen. Emma is left on an island with elven ruins to research them and discovers far more than she expected.

Stardust In Her Hair: (Josie/Salshira) A piece about family and acceptance set during the ball at Halamshiral (this is...technically done, I'm just fiddling with the tone at the end)

Origins:

I am still tinkering with the idea of doing a full Origins retelling, but my dedication to keeping my fic as close to canon as possible has hobbled me a bit here (from the sheer amount of research and specific videos I need to look up). Everything is in one doc at the moment, but there are two pieces I've been toying with posting separately on AO3.

Amanecer: The first night Zevran actually stays the whole night; yet another step on the "neither of us want to admit that there are a lot of feelings involved here" road

Contrivances: I posted a snippet of this a few weeks ago, but this one is Wen finally putting her foot down about the way Zev casts himself as an object/tool. (It's um. It's mostly her blowing him, and the expression of affection/intimacy without reciprocation vs affection as currency)

(currently unnamed) piece about the fight with Loghain and the evolution of Wen's friendship with Alistair; this is really her taking a hard look at her choices and deciding she doesn't want him to have to make the same ones

DA2:

And Shed Our Sorrows: Hawke leaving Ferelden for Kirkwall, inspired by "Stay I Pray You" from Anastasia

Royal Flush: Hawke cheats at cards; inspired by that post a while back that said something along the lines of "if you can't laugh during sex then what is the point"

Signifying Nothing: Hawke and grief; regarding the week/s immediately following Leandra's death

Give Ourselves Away: Exploring the role of touch in Hawke and Fenris's relationship, especially the way physical contact and healing acts as a sort of stand-in for more overt intimacy

And various expansions of ficlets, especially The Small Hours, Lend a Hand, and A Fond Farewell

(And it's not writing but!) The Fenris scarf c: I'm about ten/eleven inches in and I really like the way the favor section came out

Original:

...so I have written three novels in various iterations, but I am always fiddling with them. On the off chance I ever publish any of them, I don't want to name them here, but the general gist is:

Death's granddaughter reluctantly sends ghosts on to the afterlife in lieu of working her shitty day job, until the woman who helped raise her vanishes and upsets the balance of magic. Now, Araceli has until All Souls' Day to get her back or things in her small town are about to get a lot more spectral. (This is sort of...a way to grapple with death and memory; I love urban fantasy dearly, and I think the role of "unfinished business" is sort of funny to think about in conjunction with the living as well as the dead. Also, I wanted to write a protagonist who tackles the otherworldly with the explicit "yeah, well I am off shift in half an hour so...not my problem" kind of energy) (I am almost done with the second draft of this and it is so much tighter than the first iteration; I can kind of track my own writing progress by how much more coherent the themes are this time around)

Lucita is the chief administrator in a werewolf pack. She's settled into it gradually, but her life is abruptly wrenched off course when her ex girlfriend petitions the pack for help. Something is killing the witches on their own land, and though investigation is far from Luci's job description and her new senses are foreign to her, she is about to find out that in this, as most things, she doesn't have much of a choice but to act. (Like most werewolf stuff, this one is a lot about the conceptual division between logic and feeling, and finding a balance between mind and body)

Fairy godmothers give gifts; unfortunately, not all gifts are good ones. Amalinda was given a gift as an infant that forces anyone who looks at her bare face to see the one they love most instead. To avoid living as someone else until she dies, she leaves her powerful family in the dark of night and takes up a humbler life in the borderlands. As the sole trader with the mysterious Godchildren who live deep in the woods, she hopes to avoid detection for as long as possible. (This is...sort of a Sleeping Beauty retelling if you look at it sideways, but it's more about how identity is shaped by environment and intent.)

#dixeram #aaaaand this is why i needed to step back from writing a bit: the crushing weight of my own wips #i was flitting back and forth between them shooting off a few paragraphs at a time and then moving on to the next w limited coherence #i think when i get back to it i am going to be a bit more methodical for my own sanity #and i am dutifully jotting down any cool ideas i have in the meantime #*and* i am going to allot more time to my original things bc i really do want to finish them #also haha this is why i call arianwen 'wen' and not 'ari': i already have an ari!

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 2 years ago

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𓅨 Falling Stardust: Chapter Twelve

Falling Stardust: You, an innocent and naive fallen star, tumble out of Morpheus’s cloak and get wrapped up in his possessive and dark love.

Warnings: Mentions of Dub-Con, Manipulation, Gaslighting.

To Note: Dark!Morpheus x FemStar!Reader (Reader is Named Astra).

Word Count: ~2.2k

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Nox was desperate. While he knew that Dream had every intention of protecting you with everything the Endless had, he was well aware of what his Lord and King was like when he fell in love… and considering everything that had happened to Dream in the last century, Nox worried that Dream might take your protection a little too far. The whispers he had heard while performing the duties Dream assigned indicated that Dream was quite smitten with you. But then Nox heard the rumors from the mouths of dreams and nightmares alike, and he grew very concerned.

Dream kept you close. Dream did not allow any dream or nightmare to get close to you. Dream forbade any dream or nightmare from allowing you to help with their duties. Dream did not let you work in any shape or form. Dream did not explain anything to you.

The Endless had kept his promise of keeping you safe, but not in a healthy way that would allow you to grow and blossom into a bright star once more… he had made it so you would only turn to him for help. Would only rely on him because all the other dreams and nightmares had been instructed to not be friends with you. Dream had manipulated you into his arms and that terrified Nox because you didn’t have the life experience to know any better.

Which is how Nox ended up rushing to the one dream that was most likely to help him find and talk to you… after Dream had made sure that Nox was far to busy to inquire how you were doing. Nox had no idea if you were fine at all, mentally, that is. So he hurried down the path to the lone cottage on the fringes of The Dreaming, hoping that he would get some truth about your true treatment within this realm.

His fist urgently hammered against the beautifully carved door, his urgency and distress oozing from his pores. The owner of this cottage could both smell and sense Nox’s mood, lazily rising from her seat to answer the rapid knocking upon her door. The door was pulled open and Nox met the calm and passive eyes of Interritus.

“Interritus you must help me!” Nox nearly exploded. “I fear that Lord Morpheus has guided our beloved star in a most possessive nature and seeks to twist her mind to his own desires.” Nox was breathing heavily, his chest heaving and eyes wild. “You work in the palace, please tell me you have caught sigh of the beloved Astra!”

“Calm yourself, Nox,” The dream nearly exploded on Interritus.

“He’s manipulating her!!” He shouted, fingers tearing at the hair upon his head. Interritus took a deep breath and stepped aside.

“Please follow me, Nox,” Interritus told the trembling dream. He scrutinized the dream of fearlessness and proceeded to open his mouth to ask how following would aid in his quest to ensure that Astra was well and not being manipulated. Interritus cut him off before he could even utter a sound. “Follow.”

Snapping his jaw shut, Nox obediently followed Interritus through her cottage and towards the enclosed back garden. It was where Interritus grew her vegetable garden and the flowers she enjoyed tending to. Nox was still jittery and uptight, stressed about the entire situation with the fallen star, when he caught sight of a scene that made hope burst in his chest. There you were, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of black eyed Susan’s, fingers buried in dirt with a bright glow of happiness around you. Nox nearly collapsed where he stood, and Interritus leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed with an indistinguishable look.

“Nox, my dear friend, I think it might already be too late for that.” Interritus sighed softly. “I’ve overheard many a conversation. Lord Morpheus has forbidden everyone from becoming friends with Astra, at least forbidden until he has full control over her.”

“Stars are not to be controlled,” Nox stressed out. “And is no-one telling her what is right? What is wrong!?”

“No, Nox, no one is to answer any of her questions. It is Lord Morpheus’s desire that Astra solely relies on him. He wants her, and is going to make her his queen.”

“Has she no free will?” Nox whispered in horror, glancing at you kneeling in the garden, lost in revere and ignorance.

“We both know he changed when he back, and I don’t think Astra falling from his coat helped at all.” Interritus said. “I took her here with the hopes that his influence would lesson.”

“He is going to tear the realm apart when he discovered her missing.” Interritus’s face darkened.

“I will deal with that when the time comes.”

You were not where Dream had left you, dozing on his bed and stretched out so beautifully with your naked skin bare and mottled with marks of his true adoration. It had been almost an impossible task to leave you there, he had wished to cradle your beautiful body against his for eternity… but Dream did have work he needed to do so he left you there. But where had you gone!?

Striding out of his personal quarters, Dream strode down the hall eyes blazing with stars. Handmaidens and dreams alike shrunk from his fury, hiding from his path and remaining as quiet as possible. Dream took to interrogating the staff and handmaidens on your whereabouts, but no one knew where you had gone. He spoke to the handmaidens who had been ordered to bring you clothes, not even they knew where you had disappeared to. The longer this went on, the more infuriated Dream became. How could one so precious as you, just disappear in his well protected palace!? The palace itself was shaking by the time Dream stormed into his throne room, eyes glowing with his absolute power.

“What is the matter, Lord Morpheus, that has you storming through the halls with such ire.” Lucienne bravely asked, peering over her spectacles. “You are shaking the eaves and disturbing the young.” Morpheus turned his thunderous gaze upon Lucienne, who didn’t shrink beneath this gaze and calmly stared back. Then she raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“My precious Astra has disappeared from my halls and not a dream nor nightmare knows where she is.” Morpheus growled out, his fingers curling around the curved marble of his throne. The stone groaned and creaked beneath his grasp. “How is it that no one knows where she has gone? Did I not give explicit instructions for her location to always be known!?”

Lucienne pitied the fool that had let the young star slip away and yet, had Morpheus not kept her a little too close and confined? Perhaps Astra had finally snuck out for a chance for freedom… no, she didn’t have the mind to think for herself as no one ever gave her the answers she sought. Someone had purposefully drawn the fallen star away from the palace and Morpheus was on a war path until he found her.

“My lord, perhaps you should seek the whereabouts of stardust?” Lucienne offered, wanting to sooth the lords mood lest it become even more unstable and he began to take his anger out on his people. “Surely the lingering cosmic essence would indicate Astra’s location.”

Morpheus glowered in a gloom of darkness, his Endless power surging from his body and clawing outwards. It desperately searched for any sign or touch of the cosmic being Morpheus held most dear, and the further he stretched his senses out, the angrier he got. Where could his star have gone? Especially after he made it clear what you meant to him!? It was only when his power scoured the fringes of the realm did he find the illuminating spark of his star. Stiffening in his seat, Morpheus’s jaw clicked.

“What is she doing at the edge of the realm!?!” Clouds darkened over the skies of the palace and village, blotting out the sun and sending fear into the inhabitants of the realm. Rising from his seat, Morpheus strode down the stairs while sand swirled around his feet, before he reached the bottom he was gone. He appeared on the little hill just before the last valley of his realm. Below sat a quaint cottage, smoke billowing from the chimney, and farmlands that were flourishing with crop. What were you doing so far away? What were you doing with Interritus? Were you trying to run from him!?

Those questions echoed within the Endless’s mind, on repeat, as he strode towards the cottage. Morpheus was sure he had gotten his desire through to you, that he wanted you to never leave his side. To never run from him! And yet here you were, the furthest you had even been from Morpheus. Surely you were trying to leave him, why else would you run from his embrace, from his bed. Morpheus didn’t bother using the beautifully carved front door, he simply morphed into sand and breezed his way into the cottage, reforming in front of Interritus who had been in the process of walking to the door. She stopped short, her eyes hard.

“My lord,” Interritus greeted with a short and stiff bow.

“Where. Is. She.” Morpheus spoke, each word bitten off with barely contained rage. Interritus could see the glow within his usually somber blue eyes, and raised her chin defiantly. She would not be bullied by the Endless, not matter what the circumstances were.

“You will have to be more specific, sir, for there are many within the realm that identify as female.” Interritus fearlessly answered, living up to her make. Morpheus’s eye twitched and turned pure white.

“You know who I speak of, Interritus,” Morpheus’s voice came out disembodied and dark, his true emotions leeching into his surroundings. “Where is my star,”

Interritus couldn’t stop the tremble within her body, she wasn’t scared, she didn’t have the capability to be scared. But her physical being could feel the rage coming from her creator and it was begging her to back down. This task of trying to do the right thing by Astra, had come to an end now that Morpheus was here, and Interritus could only wish that you had more of a chance to break free of the Endless’s manipulation. So biting down on her lip to stop herself from going off on the lord in her own home, she turned on her heel and led Morpheus to her kitchen where you were elbow deep in flour.

The moment Morpheus set his eyes on you, he froze in his step. You weren’t cowering from him, in fact, you didn’t appear to have even noticed that he had arrived. You were concentrated on your task of kneading a dough with your hands, and had somehow managed to get flour everywhere on yourself. At the sound of Interritus filing into her kitchen, you looked over you shoulder with a smile. The moment your eyes saw that Morpheus was there, your smile widened and your eyes sparkled.

“Morpheus!” You happily exclaimed, ignorant to his darkened mood. “Interritus has been teaching me how to make bread!”

Getting over his initial shock, Morpheus strode forwards and ran his hands all over your body, searching for any injury or place of harm.

“Are you well, my star? Has anyone hurt you? Are you injured?” You blinked at him in confusion as Morpheus brought his hands up to gently cup your cheeks. His thumb brushed away flour that dotted the crest of your cheek bone. “Please tell me you are safe and well, my Astra.”

“Morpheus, what is wrong?” You asked, raising your hands but hesitating to touch him. You were covered in dough and flour. Morpheus saw your hesitation and immediately returned you to a cleaned state, whisking away the apron and day dress you wore in favor of a long satin chemise fit for his queen.

“You were gone, my love, I didn’t know where you were and that scared me.” Your eyes widened at his words and you pressed your palm into his jacket.

“I’m sorry, I just got so excited when Interritus offered to show me the countryside, and then she began teaching me how to bake, and no one else in the realm wanted to and—“ Dream pressed his thumb against your lip, clearly understanding how you had gotten into this situation. Not by yourself, you didn’t have the mind to think of such a thing, Interritus however….

Morpheus pulled you into an embrace, holding you close to his chest and breathing in the cosmic scent that wafted from your skin.

“Don’t apologize, Astra,” He murmured, burying his face into your hair. He was elated to find that you had not been running from him, but had been naively tempted away. He’d deal with that, later. “Come, my love, let us return to the palace, I am sure you are weary from your activities.”

“But—“ You went to protest, not the least bit tired or in need of rest. Morpheus didn’t allow you to protest his words and transported you back to the conservatory, this time, planning on ensuring that you would not be tempted away by another dream.

Date Published: 4/5/23

Last Edit: 4/5/23

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