#“possible flight risk to the stars”

[orpiknight]

2023 is the year for asking the burning questions like "What if David Tennant came back to play a queer, nonbinary, nearly-immortal, otherworldly being that loves Earth and whose greatest adversary list somehow includes a cup of coffee?"

#David Tennant #good omens #doctor who #doctor who 60th anniversary #14th doctor #okv #Twice in one year. #“bouncy” for both too. #“possible flight risk to the stars” #“time is sometimes a choice actually” #I had a really good time with the special. :) #Edit: I don't believe in the coffee theory. But I'm happy for people to have fun with their different theories. Even if I disagree. #All I meant was a (regular) coffee was included with the Metatron.

[ohtobeleah]

I’d kill for a part two of that strictly scandalous concept where Hangman fucks Mavericks daughter. Just him realizing what he’s done.

HAHAHAHA. I loved this one. Here ya go. Just because I felt this on my bones, baby. and I know I've used the callsign Iris for a blurb once but imma use it again because it suits and I like it. :)

********************

Jakes shitting himself. Imagine it though— he’s in the locker room, zipping up his flight suit when Pete Mitchell slaps his hand down on Jake’s shoulder from behind. It scares the living shit out of him when he realises just who it is standing behind him. 

“You have a good weekend Hangman—?” Mav asked as Jake turned to face him, eyes wide like he’s just been caught red handed and balls deep him Mavericks daughter. 

“Huh?” Jakes trying to formulate a sentence to reply with, but he’s breaking out in a sweat, remembering just how fucked he knew he was when you introduced yourself a Lieutenant Mitchell. Pete Maverick Mitchell’s daughter. “Uh, sorry repeat the question sir?” 

“I asked if you had a good weekend?” Pete always thought Jake was a little weird, a little overzealous and egotistical—but right this minute he could be considered a flight risk. With sweat practically dripping down his face and he looks over Pete’s shoulder to see his saving grace. Rooster. 

“Yeah, yeah nah it was average—“ If you’d call fucking his captains daughter in the back of his truck average. That was a felony around here, a career ender, an act worthy of being lined up and executed point blank. “Listen, great chatting to you, But I gotta go—“ Mav doesn’t get a chance to even register what’s going on before Jake is hightailing it over towards Bradley, dragging him around the corner of the locker room with a clenched jaw and panicked eyes. 

“Dude! What’s your problem!” Bradley’s hissing at Jake’s grip on his bicep. Being pulled away into a more discreet part of the men’s locker room. 

“I’m gonna lose my fucking job—“ Bradley Bradshaw has never seen Jake Seresin so panicked before. He’s usually in control of every situation, every aspect of his life. But this? Whatever had him spooked must have been major because Bradley could see straight into Jake's soul, and he was terrified. 

“What exactly did you do?” 

“Not a what.” Jake groaned, smashing his fist against Fanboys stupid Star Wars themes locker or whatever the hell TV show he geeked over. “More like a who—“ Bradley’s not computing what Jake is trying to tell him. Watching as Jake turns, presses his back against the lockers, and slides towards the ground in complete and utter defeat. He can kiss this promotion goodbye and he hasn’t even made it through a full day. 

“Can you be a little more specific? It’s too early to be deciphering codes.” Rooster just stands there, arms crossed as Jake lets his head rest against the flimsy doors of the lockers he’s resting up against—legs spread out. 

“IfuckedMavsdaughter—“ Jake mumbles quickly and under his breath. Bradley only just makes out what he said as his eyes are blowing out of his head in pure shock. No, no this is too perfect. 

“I’m sorry you did who?” Rooster needs to hear Jake say it clearly and as precisely as possible. “You did not!” 

“I didn’t know she was Mavs daughter Rooster! You didn’t fucking tell me who she was!” Jake was right on that front, but Bradley wasn’t in the loop, when did spilling three entire schooners of alcohol on someone equates to fucking someone. “God! Do you know what he’s gonna do to me when he finds out? He’s gonna make my life a living hell!” Jake groans as he hits the back of his head against the locker in an act of self-pity.

“You fucked Y/n Iris Mitchell, he’s gonna hang you, Hangman.” Bradley loved this probably a little more than he should have. He knew his uncle all too well and he knew how protective he was of the daughter he didn’t know he had until you showed up at his doorstep one random Saturday afternoon. “He’s gonna string you up by your big toe on the flagpole—“ 

“I should just quiet before he has a chance to—“ Jakes squinting his eyes shut tight, all he can see is you riding him like you had nothing to lose in the back of his truck. He can feel your around him still, the tightest pussy he’s ever fucked. So warm and perfect and—young. Fuck, he should have know this would have eventually. “I’m a deadman walking.”

“Does she know who you are?” Bradley’s asking as he finally takes a knee and comes to sit against the lockers with his clearly distressed wingman. “Did you tell her you’re most likely her instructor? Her Lieutenant Commander?” 

“Nope—“ Jake pops the P. “I was just gonna see how long I could go without running into her, avoid her at all costs.” 

“Yeah something tells me that’s not gonna work.” Bradley chuckles, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “But good luck man, honestly I’m rooting for you.” Rooster bumps his shoulder against Jakes as he stands. Looking down at the aviator having a clear existential crisis. “Stop sticking your dick into anything that moves at the Hard Deck—I’m honestly shocked something like this hasn’t happened sooner.” 

“Can you just promise me that if I go missing you’ll tell the cops it was Mav?” Jake is as serious as he ever has been as he looks up at Rooster. “This is partly your fault to you big flightless bird—if I had been told, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near her!” But all Bradley can do is laugh at Jake’s predicament. 

“Sure thing pal, but she told you, you could have stopped and dealt with the blue balls—but I’m guessing the night didn’t end in the truck and you're big enough and ugly enough to deal with the consequences of your own actions.” Bradley feels like this whole situation is an early birth present. He’s beaming, smug even. Of course Jake fucked Mavs daughter, of course he did!  “I’ll see you out there.” 

“You're a bad friend!” Jakes Shouting out as Bradley rounds the corner, he’s laughing as he shakes his head and exits the locker room only to run into you in the hall. Seeing an opportunity he just can’t resist passing up. 

“Iris!” Bradley cooed, grabbing your attention as he jogs up beside you from behind, slinging a shoulder around you. “How’s induction day going so far?” 

“I just came out of a lecture about weapons systems malfunctions with Lieutenant Commander Floyd.” You explained, pretty tickled pink with excitement that you were at TopGun. Not a lot of women got to experience such a feat. “He’s pretty intelligent.” 

“Bobs great—“ Bradley had known you since you were about sixteen, but you weren’t all that close for two people who’d be considered non-biological siblings. “Hey listen, I heard you left the Hard Deck with Hangman the other night.” 

“Who’s Hangman?” You asked as you stopped in your tracks. “And how do you know I left with som—“ All things considered, when Jake had told you that if Hawaiian shirts were what you were into, you should be talking to Bradley, you could have said that you saw him more like a brother than anything else. But you didn’t, you played along and said that guys with moustaches weren't your type. “Oh—no please Rooster I didn’t.” Bradley could see the look of realisation creeping across your face. You’d fucked one of your TopGun instructors, hadn't you? “No—please it’s April fools isn’t it?” 

“It’s October Iris—“ Bradley smirked, his moustache working to devour his upper lip entirely as he does. “Mavs gonna kill him—“ 

“Fuck what Mavs gonna do to him Bradshaw! I’m gonna get kicked out of Miramar if the admirals find out what I’ve done!” You're a mess, Bradley chuckles, hey maybe you and Jake had a few things in common. Your inability to cope during existential crises being one of them. “This ain’t happening! I need to talk to him, where is he?”

“He’s probably still writing his resignation on the locker room flo—“ Before Bradley can finish your sentence, he’s watching as you make a b-line directly for the locker room he’d just come out of. 

On the hunt for Lieutenant Commander Jake ‘Deadman’  Seresin.

#jake seresin smut #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake hangman imagine

[circledotdestroy]

Retrospective - Chapter 2: The Insult of Injury

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Pro-Hero! Reader (slow burn)

Main Summary: After 12 years, you, Pro-Hero Strife, has to return to Japan. Your objective: discreetly track down and capture Akari Kaneko, a.k.a. Pro-Hero Aegis— your old classmate who attacked you during her visit in America. In the aftermath of All Might losing his power, however, using UA resources has its complications. The most unexpected complication being Aizawa, someone you never expected to see again. Why does your past have to come back to haunt you now? Masterlist First chapter Next Chapter Word Count: 5585

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to post. While I was gone I got my first big girl job and my beta reader has been having trouble with her computer, so I had to obsess over the prose by myself. In the end, i had to split my planned second chapter in two because it was almost 10k, so that's fun. Also, I uploaded this fic to Ao3 and I added the tag "Autistic Shouta Aizawa" and I'm the first one to tag that in an X Reader Fic??? I thought it was a popular headcanon lol Anyway, you've waited long enough. I hope you enjoy!

Head hung over porcelain, gloved hands gripped onto the sink. A giant hammer banged against your skull from the inside leaving sparks in its wake. Neurons like shooting stars lived behind your eyes. “Sparks…” You gulped back nausea. 

Murky puddles of colors blurred together. Light blue stalls behind you, slightly opened, but empty. A massive void leered through the mirror with slivers of red. Hunched, panting over the counter. Burning wounds spreading out, conquering the rest of your cold skin. Not so different from the last time you needed a healing quirk. Cold, clammy, and disgustingly pitiful in one of the dark backrooms of your agency–because doing paperwork was better than being by your lonesome with nothing. The main difference this time around was the mortification that came with breaking down in a high school bathroom.  

You were going to smack Akari for what she put you through.

The thought stabilized your shaky breath. You straightened your body, your hands still grasping the counter. The pressure released from the stab wound. It steadied you and you were grateful.

The last thing you needed to add on this little business trip was a reunion with Recovery Girl. She had first-hand encounters of your nonsense. Dealing with the aftermath of you being a menace to society— or “younger” if someone wanted to be polite—more times then you can count. You went to her office a lot–sometimes for yourself. Sometimes. It didn’t matter if you started more “advanced” in your class, you weren’t immune to scraps, bruises, or the occasional slip up during training. Other times, it was for other classmates. Some you sent her way after battle trials, but other times you popped in to take supplies then ran out.

One time you asked when she was going to retire, she said whatever the Japanese equivalent was for “until I croak”. That was after she threatened you with her cane, but you laughed it off like the cocky child you were. You thought even if she could land a hit, it wouldn’t hurt that bad. After all this time, it’d be disappointing to tell her you got in a fight and lost at your big age. Maybe she’ll try hitting you with her cane again, you thought. She’d have an easier time now.

But no. Dealing with the effects of one healing quirk was enough. The risks of getting her involved drowsiness at best, or possible death before the investigation gets shot down at worst. Investigation aside, it’s becoming apparent your healing process isn’t where it’s supposed to be. The itches, the burning… no one is in this bathroom with you, but you’re burning beneath cold skin. Someone who sees you on the street can say: “It’s only been two days! Walking around, catching a flight, that’s a MIRACLE for only two days!” 

However, that’s the problem. It’s already been two days. With the healing quirk, you’re supposed to be at least 75%, but you’re not pushing fifty. 

Removing your hands from the sink, you brought them to your sides. It was hard to know where one pain starts and where the other ends. Everything burns and your body is compelling you to turn around and throw up nothing.  You flexed shaking fingers into fists. Your stomach was turning inward. It’s been a while since you ate. Perhaps you should’ve brought something on your way here. Even if it was stopping at a konbini and picking up one of those stupid-ass nutrition cookies Aizawa used to eat for lunch every day of the week. You swallowed, shaking your head. Food can wait. You can wait three hours. If you eat, you’re going to stay nauseous and dizzy anyway… unless you do something about it.

With a shaking breath, you glanced over your shoulder then at the door. There was no charge down your spine, so no people were close by either. You flexed your hands again, eyes closed, counting your fingers rhythmically. The sparks died down. The pain became more discernible. Abdomen still fresh and oven-hot. Knuckles chaffed, raw, and bruised. Your legs: thighs sore from jumping during the mission, your left knee ached, and the top side of your right foot was especially tender. Your shoulders, your back, behind your head. 

You kept the rhythm until your lungs demanded release. When you exhaled, the pain dwindled. Not completely. Warmth still lied below your skin, at a near simmer. When you opened your eyes though, the blacks and reds weren’t blurred together. They were a clear, albeit crooked mess. You fixed the red arm guards first. When that was done, you had enough energy to fix the rest of your uniform. 

Daring to move around, you inspected your fixed outfit further. When it passed inspection, you grabbed your briefcase below the paper towel dispenser to your right. Hitching your breath, you reached for the black handle. Your right leg carried all the weight to avoid setting off a potential mine-field of injury. At first contact, you swung the case on top of the sink then opened it. There were many compartments at the top, one housed a phone the boss gave you, since your old one was collateral damage. There were few numbers inside the cell. Only the ones you thought were most important to include. One of them was for the agency medic, which you cleverly titled as “Medic” to make sure you don’t call more than necessary. 

This development with his quirk, unfortunately, was necessary. Rocks filled your stomach. Your mouth feels like you ate gravel. You can hear his reaction to telling him his ‘all powerful quirk’ wasn’t helping like a future sense. He’d make the concussion he diagnosed you with worse if you called.

Wanting to grip the phone harder, you clenched your teeth. This whole thing was stupid. You could’ve kept your guard up. You could’ve stood up, knife be damned, and run after Akari. Stopped her. Asked her what the hell she was talking about— All these choices you could’ve made–all those years of training, and you still got a concussion. Seven minutes passed when you finished typing your little update. It was better to give him a heads up now. It helps against accusations of Akari annihilating your brain cells at the fight.

The next person you contacted was Athena, your Support Expert. It hasn’t been long, but you needed an update on something. Even if it was just your uniform and equipment. 

The message itself was quick. Though, you couldn’t help following up by asking if she knew anything about one of the crime scenes. You then thanked her, again. Heaven knows you keep her busy when you need new equipment. During the past two years alone, you’ve asked a lot from her. Whether you needed a new arm guard, gauntlet, or a whole new uniform, she came through every time. It’s hard to get an SE who specializes specifically in power-based quirks. From what you’ve experienced, and heard from other heroes, most SEs don’t appreciate their designs getting decimated. Their creations are children in their eyes. Athena’s creations aren’t as precious in her eyes, by comparison. She has a spreadsheet dedicated to how long until the creations get busted. Keeping up with these records is her research. It changed constantly, telling her what works and when she needs to switch things up. 

You should bring her something when all this is over, you thought. She deserved something nice. Something that says “I’m sorry for wrecking all the support items you made me during my missions, you’re the best SE ever!”

The phone went back inside of its compartment, next to the pouch where five hologram disks were held. A surge of panic came through you. Thinking of the horrific scenario of traveling all this way and forgetting essential items for your visit today. You tore open the pouch. Heart in your ears and heat crawling out your back. Two disks were labeled, three were not. “CS1” and “CS2” were in the pouch. Good. You glanced at the other objects in the case, double checking everything was there before you met up with the principal. Folders, notebooks, paperwork, until relief washed over you in a cool wave. Closing the briefcase, running your hand across the leather. Slowing down to trace the broken heart emblem, similar to the one on your breastplate.

Your power won’t get rid of the hammers in your skull, or the itch around stitch wire, but the thick material will prevent you from scratching. Plus, no one else would know about the other bumps and bruises beneath. 

You got this.

Leaving the bathroom, you pulled out Hizashi’s instructions one more time. They were less blurry and a bit easier to understand. You may actually have a chance to get out of the maze disguised as your alma mater. Ironically enough, before you could turn the corner, a white rat-bear-dog shorter than a yard-stick— wearing a black vest, blocky, yellow shoes, and had a gangster scar across his eye—came around. “There you are! It really has been a long time,” he greeted, like you’ve seen him before. He didn’t give you time to respond to him, he just explained how he waited at the meeting spot until it occurred to him how long it’s been since you were a student. The principal also made many changes since the time you graduated, which he insisted on showing you. This welcoming gesture forced you to tail him around the floor, instead of simply going to the meeting spot. You didn’t like the idea of walking around, not with that flare up earlier. You were still abnormally sore. But he can’t know that. You squared your shoulders, nodded your head, and quietly marched on.

There weren’t many rooms to make note of. Most of them were regular classrooms. You already saw where the current classroom for 1-A was before you ran into Aizawa. Apparently your old classroom is being used for one of the first year general education courses. The principal asked if you’d like to look inside. You declined the offer politely. At the end of the day, it was just a room. Another room with desks, windows, and a chalkboard in the front. What more did you need to see? You didn’t explain that last part, obviously, and the principal went on talking about other changes around the school.

At one point, he interrupted himself, stopping in front of one of the other doors. This time he didn’t ask you before opening it. “And here is my office.” The principal revealed a room with a giant window behind a desk. The orange light from the rising sun shone through the window casting deep shadows on the office furniture. If you stepped closer, you’d see everything outside the window. The brightness made you queasy. You opted to focus on the gray couch instead. “It looks a little different compared to the last conversation we had here,” he commented.

‘Last conversation,’ you wondered. Then it hit you.

This principal wasn’t new.

 Your principal never left UA. How you forgot your principal having a gangster-scar, you weren’t sure. There was no one like him. Absolutely no one that you’ve met. 

Muffled words and a shadow in front of a stark blue window came to mind. Paws holding stacks of paper, hitting them against the desk to straighten them out. Were you supposed to add on to what he said? Were you supposed to apologize? He didn’t look unhappy.

But you could be wrong. Would it be a surprise if this was an act? Taking you on this walk so you’d waste your time telling him everything? You looked to the right and left side of the hallway. If the resources weren’t valuable then you’d walk yourself out first. 

The principal didn’t follow up his statement with anything about the past or the future. He closed the door to his voice and rambled his way to nothing. He probably wanted to get a reaction out of you, but you were too confused to give him one. 

After a while, the stitches got tighter. And tighter. And your legs were becoming sore. Of course, you clenched your jaw to keep quiet. If he caught on, he’ll send you to Recovery Girl then bye-bye. She hits you with her cane and Nezu could press a button to eject you from the building.

Honestly, where was Hizashi? You knew he was supposed to be busy with work last night, but he said he’d be here for the meeting. It was supposed to start soon and you don’t want to be in a room alone with a passive-aggressive rat-bear-principal. Maybe he was telling Nemuri you were in town. 

Or maybe he would try to find Shouta and they could all be talking right now! Aizawa would tell him about you leaving him in the hallway, saying you were rude, demanding to know what’s going on. Aizawa was pushy enough. Hizashi would tell him about how you called him, hurt and asking for help. Despite Hizashi’s best intentions, Aizawa could use this information to raise doubt against you in the meeting. Get rid of you before you become a problem, his problem. 

You needed to find Hizashi before that could happen.

As luck would have it, the tour was coming to an end. The last stop led to a blond man leaning against a door down the hall with his arms crossed. A blond man with a punk rock style and a speaker around his neck. A blond that bounced his knee impatiently because he couldn’t bear standing still. 

Hizashi!

His head snapped in your direction. He, like a ray of sunshine, grinned ear to ear. “And look here, folks!” Hizashi rushed toward you, “coming out of the cage, ready for her GRAND COMEBACK–” you gripped your briefcase tighter, your eyes wide and almost bouncing, expecting impact. Hizashi pivoted around you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s the Queen of Terror, Pro-Hero STRIFE!”

It’s been over five years since you’ve seen him in person, longer since he’s called you by your hero name. You beamed, he was here. In the same room, not across the world. You thought of hugging him, but stopped when you remembered your old principal was still here.

Hizashi moved closer, leaning into your face without such reservations. The amber reflection of your uniform was in his sunglasses. His hand dragged across your shoulder where the raised mending peaked. He looked toward the principal with his hand on the side of his mouth, like he was trying to tell you a secret. “I was waiting forever,” he fake-scolded, loud enough for the third party to hear.

Glancing at the principal, you saw he was watching the two of you. He had a smile on his face, but his eyes were blank. You stepped out of Hizashi’s grasp, standing properly. “I had trouble with the directions.”

“What? Getting rusty after being away for so long?” Heat rose to your ears. Of course you were going to be rusty. Did he really have to tease you about it now? “She really knows how to keep her fans at the edge of their seat,” he said to the principal casually, like he wasn’t Hizashi’s boss.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the principal responded, making you aware of the side eye you were giving to your old friend. “I was giving Strife a tour of this floor. After all, I’m proud of the changes I made to UA since your graduating class. I couldn’t resist showing off to one of my former students. Strife has certainly grown from that child I remember.”

Hizashi agreed with your old principle with a joke. “I hope that’s a good thing.” But you know there’s no good way to interpret the statement. Not with what he said when he showed you his office. Who brings up a time where they had to talk with you in a GOOD way? It’s like when your parents brought up how one of your dad’s coworkers caught you sneaking a cookie from the agency's break room when you were supposed to stick to a meal plan. Like, “oh, we sure hope you have better impulse control compared to when you were eight, even if you do, we’re going to reference this story over and over again so you never forget your moral failure!” He’s wearing yellow sneakers with formal wear, why is he passive-aggressive!

The conversation didn’t go further, thankfully. “There is time before the meeting, I’m going to set up. Feel free to catch up here in the meantime,” said the principal. You both thanked him as he went into the room. The nausea came back at the sight of the wooden swirls closing, your heart was starting to pound. After all, maybe he was planning to air it out with an audience, you couldn’t know for sure with his emotionless eyes.

“Did you really not have nicer clothes,” Hizashi asked, breaking you out of your trance. He was loud enough for the whole building to hear.

Your nose scrunched. “The damage wasn’t THAT bad…”

Hizashi shook his head. “I’m not talking about the damage. Last time I saw you, there was more…” Hizashi held his hand out, waving it toward your body. He went through a jumble of words before he decided on one. “Color.”

The last time he saw you in person, you were twenty-four and in-between agencies again. He was celebrating the first anniversary of his show being picked up for a radio channel. After celebrating the anniversary, he took a short vacation out of the country. It was the first time he was allowed since his career started. When Hizashi finally arrived in the States, you wore a uniform. It had less hard armor and was more red. Red breast plate with your black broken-heart emblem, which resembled that old Pac-Man arcade game. Gauntlets with red finger and knuckle pieces and armguards to contrast the black base of the gloves. Some other details like the center of your knee and elbow pads, the tips of your boots, your utility belt, and other lines and trims followed,

Vibrant color bounced off the void background. In comparison, your current outfit was– 

“You look like a common mall goth.” You tilt your head at him. Before you can say anything about calling you “common”, he continued. “Actually it’s worse!” Hizashi stepped closer to put his hands on your shoulders, pressing into the raised mark on the left. He leaned closer to your ear–was he always this touchy? He whispered, “you look emo.”

You punished him back, somewhat gently. “Hizashi, what the hell,” you said in English. Why was he making you worried over nothing! And calling you emo…

He laughed, wagging his finger at you like you were some brat. “Nuh uh uh. It’s Mic. We’re professionals and we’re working.”

“What do you mean ‘professionals’? What was professional about that!”

“I’m a radio host too, I have to play it to the crowd!”

You scanned the halls. “Where!” No one was here! A thud echoed across the empty hallway. In your confusion, you accidentally threw your briefcase across the hall. You stupidly remember the rule ‘no yelling in the hall!’ rule as black leather slid across the purple floor. Oops… You sigh as the briefcase spins to a stop.

Mic continued laughing. You grumbled, giving him your back as you approached the briefcase. To think, you considered hugging him earlier. The man walked behind you. “Don’t be so stiff!” You stared at the briefcase, almost rolling your eyes, he had no idea. You pondered how you were going to pick it up. If you did it the same way as you did in the bathroom, it would look suspicious. And dorky. 

His eyes were on you, you could feel it. If you waited too long then Mic would volunteer to get it for you. That would make him ask questions though. “Right,” you broke the silence before he could. You squatted with bated breath to pick up the briefcase. Your knee almost popped and you wanted to tear into the wound, but you weren’t going to tell Mic that. Not now, at least. 

Somewhere more private. AFTER you were sure he wouldn’t talk to Aizawa about anything. But first, you’d need to say you met him earlier and it didn’t go well. You can save Mic the drama, not going into specifics. Other than that, what’s one more thing to the pile? He’s in the dark about Akari, for now. He didn’t need to know Akari was the reason why you called him from your medic’s phone the other day, right this minute. You’ll have to go over everything in the meeting anyway, so why waste time?

“I would’ve gotten that,” said Mic.

“But you didn’t.” You shot back, harsher than you meant to. “It’s fine. I forgive you,” you stated with a pouty lip. You hoped the joke would mitigate the unintended force of your words. Mic probably didn’t notice, or he thought it was simply the set up to the punchline. “What have you been up to?”

Mic gave you an elaborate update on the past few weeks. His summer was busy since the Sports Festival. As usual, he was booked out when it came to the radio host and DJ gigs during the beginning of summer break. He told you all positive things. Dancing around All Might’s retirement as Number 1 Hero. You imagined he’d describe it as a certified downer if you asked. “...and our first years are about to go for their license!” Mic posed his hands in the rock and roll gesture.

“Wow, already? We had to wait until second year.”

“Because of all the villain attacks. It was decided it’d be better for the students to protect themselves without waiting for a hero’s permission.” There were no bells or whistles attached to the explanation. His hand gestures were minimal as well. While the idea of first years becoming skilled enough to get their license at a young age was impressive, there was no argument the circumstances weren’t ideal. First years shouldn’t have to deal with villains yet, but they have multiple times. Even in America, the youngest an applicant had to be was 17 to get their license. One of the perks of going to UA was being able to expedite the process and get your license when you were 16. You couldn’t imagine letting 15 year olds take the test in America. ”If you’ve watched the Sports Festival, then you know they’ll CRUSH it!” He punctuated the statement with his signature “YEAH!”, putting his hands in the air for extra dazzle. 

A beat passed and he broke his pose, asking if you watched the Sports Festival. The question wasn’t as pumped compared to his previous statement. Guilt struck you. Another month’s gone by and you still haven’t watched your friends on International Television. “It’s okay if you didn’t!” He responded, obviously concerned.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I should’ve watched it by now. Work’s been crazy for months. I had to cancel TV because it was wasting money.”

Mic shrugged, with a relaxed expression on his face. “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure I can give you the highlight reel while you're in town. But seriously, you had to cancel TV? You need to give it a rest!” 

“No, you have four jobs. I have no excuse–”

“Details!” Mic brushed off your response with his hand. “Y’know…” Mic’s hand went to his face to rub his chin. “You could help out with the first years with the exam. If you have time for it, it could be another paycheck and you can hang out with me,” he finished like you were a kid motivated by cookies.

You raised your eyebrow and shifted your weight to your back leg. “First you say “give it a rest” and now you want to give me more work?” He posed glamorously then switched to another with that somewhat implied you giving him a high-five, but it didn’t look quite right. “Not everyone can multitask like you, Mic.”

“I’m just saying you have the experience. You judged the licensing exams a crazy amount of times—and you mentored young heroes before.”

 “I didn’t do any judging this year, and there’s a difference between the American licensing exam and the one here. Also, those heroes already graduated from their program, and I only helped them because I had to. I’m not a good mentor, and, from what you said, I’m sure whoever’s teaching the first years are doing fine on their own.”

Mic paused with his mouth slightly open. His teeth clenched. “About that–”

A colorful blur caught the corner of your eye, but it was too late. A massive weight slammed into your body. The briefcase flew from your hand. What the hell! Your throat squeezed, choking down any sound you could’ve made. First there was shock. Then fire. Then pain. Every. Single. Type. 

Everything burned and your bones rattled you from the inside. You had to get this off! You wrapped your arms around, ready to pick up and throw it down the next floor. 

Your shoulder shrieked back at the embrace, your legs weren’t fairing with the shift either. In this split-second processing of your senses, it was apparent the weight was particularly squishy in certain places. It had purple hair as well, and she was absolutely thrilled to see you.

Your eyes widened. You lifted Nemuri, having stopped midway from slamming her to the ground. Her stomach was at your eye-level as she laughed with joy. That was good, you set her down., her heels clicking on the floor. You could’ve really hurt her. “--didn’t tell me you were coming to town–got you at the airport! Look at YOU!” The squishiness against your body left, replaced by an ecstatic Nemuri squeezing your face. Fingers pressed your cheeks enough to make your lips puff out. You tried to respond to Nemuri, but you might as well have your mouth full of cookies. The questions kept coming. After a bunch of non-answers, Nemuri took her hands off. Of course it was sore, but it was nothing like the rest of you. Unlike with Mic, you KNEW Nemuri was this touchy. This happened so many times a single memory became a cluster of events. 

She turned out of your hold, pointing at Mic aggressively. “Did you know our friend was coming here and NOT tell ME!” 

The scene was soon drowned out by your beating heart. Mic’s sunglasses slipped down his nose revealing a panicked expression toward Nemuri. He held out your briefcase to shield himself from the heat of the backlash. He was talking fast, explaining himself. You pressed your lips tightly in contrast. If they weren’t then you’d pant like you did earlier. 

Nausea arrived once again like a recurring nightmare. Placing your hand over the stitches to push through the thick material did nothing. As predicted, the pain couldn’t be snuffed out. Keeping your face neutral was an uphill battle between scalding heat and pure annoyance.

Screeching thoughts scolded you to ‘stop scratching!’

Then the surge came.

Mic and Midnight were focused on each other. One was mad, one was somewhat scared. It gave you something to work with. Your breath deepened as you flexed your palm against your uniform. Once again the pain separated and simmered down. The only agony on the surface was the itchiness of your wound. It wasn’t perfect. You just had to bear with it—the healing process. 

And watch out for any other attacks from your friends.

The hand on your abdomen balled into a fist. An invisible knife stabbed back inside the wound. Hopefully, the pressure could substitute the need to claw at your skin until your insides spilled into a puddle on the floor. 

Before you got comfortable, something to your left burned through you. Not from a wound, or your quirk. Someone watched you down the corridor. Turning your head, you lowered the invisible knife.

“Aizawa,” Mic called out to him, but didn’t get a response. Aizawa’s attention was on you. Did he see what you did? There was no way he saw the whole situation, you thought. Just when you shanked yourself with the imaginary shiv. Even if he brought it up, so what? It was weird, not illegal. “Look who’s here, isn’t this exciting!” Mic continued. The way Aizawa kept staring you down made it clear he was expecting you to flinch. Maybe you weren’t doing something illegal just now, but he can say you stormed off from him. Which is worse in this context. A lot worse. 

Aizawa tucked a blue file folder he was looking over into his arm with the others. “We saw each other earlier,” he responded coldly. He wasn’t excited to see you. Not today. Not ever. You stood your ground, waiting for him to tell them you walked out on him again, but it never came. He moved past, preferring not to be in the same room with you more than he had to.

“That’s it! C’mon don’t be like that! How often do you get to see an old buddy?”

“Just stay for a minute!”

He continued on his path, not responding to any of their pleas until he reached the door handle. “The meeting is starting soon. Don’t block the door.” He went inside, the door clicking shut behind him with an echo.

“Harsh…” Mic said.

Midnight turned to you. “I thought he’d be happier,” she said wistfully. You don’t blame her for hoping.

You shrugged, lifting your hands. ‘It is what it is,’ you thought, not quite remembering a good translation.

Midnight hummed. Mic moved on from the initial shock, opting to check out the detailing on your briefcase. No follow up questions from either of them. Throughout the years, there was never a time either of them mentioned Aizawa being their coworker. Not that you should care. They didn’t have to tell you anything about what he was up to. If he wanted you to know he could’ve told you himself. Whatever he did was none of your business, so why would they tell you?

Maybe they should’ve. It certainly would’ve avoided this mess. Although, the thought didn’t cross Mic’s mind. He probably heard the muffled yells of the medic for you to give his phone back and dived in with no questions. No hesitation. 

Nonetheless, he could’ve warned you about Aizawa in the email he sent you after. Did he think you wouldn't come back if you knew ahead of time—if you knew Aizawa would be here? Probably not, but damn, dude, give a warning.

Midnight broke through your thoughts, asking how long you were planning to stay. She comments on the tension without any out of pocket comparisons to the devil’s tango. You reassured her you should be gone in two weeks. If you were going to do your research here, no doubt it would be uncomfortable for her and Mic if that’s how you’re going to interact with their friend. “I hope we can do something while you’re here. It’ll be fun,” Midnight offered half-heartedly. Even if you sucked at keeping contact for the past year, she was still nice to you. Although, it’s doubtful you two would have time for each other while you were investigating and she does her jobs.

“Count me in!” Mic puts his free arm around your shoulders, he doesn’t add any pressure, but your arms squeezed into your ribs at the unintentional threat. Like one wrong move and your skin would seer through kevlar and leather. “We have to grab a bite!”

Your ears perk up, stomach coming to the forefront of your thoughts. You were drooling at the thought of finally being able to eat some bomb-ass food.

The passage of time went faster with the distracting fantasy. Not long after agreeing to Mic’s invitation of food, and having to hear a long list of places you couldn’t go to this very moment, the meeting was close to a start–made apparent by the next pro hero arriving to the meeting room. Your friends introduced you to another one of their coworkers, Snipe, who was dressed as a cowboy and actually packed heat.

The lovely thoughts and curiosity came to a halt upon entering the room. Aizawa glared at you for disrupting him from reading what he had in those folders. Without breaking eye contact you reached toward Mic so he could give you back your briefcase, so you could put it down somewhere. 

Aizawa went back to his folders, rubbing his temple like your presence alone vexes him. You chose to place it in the corner of the room by a potted plant. You were careful not to grunt as you squatted. Ignoring the pain, you swiped the pattern on the briefcase, for good luck even if you hardly believe in such a thing. 

Call it habit or instinct, but you glanced over your shoulder after. Of course, there was Aizawa. He eyeballed you, waiting for you to make a mistake. You clenched your jaw as you stood up again, adjusting your uniform before walking back toward Mic toward the center of the room. If Aizawa saw an opportunity, an opening to get rid of you, he’d pounce. 

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #mha x female reader #retrospective by dot #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #whump #tw pain #yamada hizashi #nemuri kayama

[sirenologyyy]

SPEAKING SONAR !

ao'nung x fem!sully reader

✷ premise : as tensions rise and your family is forced out of the only home you've ever known, fish boy meets forest girl and the rest is history (tragedy)

✷ warnings : kidnapping, swearing, injury, blood, violence, and death

✷ author's note : gotta have ya'lls parents' povs here hehe, also some spider content if ur an anti dni I'm a spider defender 4 lyfe.

✷ trigger warning : THERE'S GUNNA BE A KINDA GRAPHIC SCENE LATER IN THE CHAPTER ABOUT THE SULLYS AND QUARITCH, IT INVOLVES BLOOD AND MORE BLOOD so be advised... but it's short dw dw

part 4 of the SOLD OUT OF LOVE series

When you'd be confined to the lab because of influenza which you caught often, Spider would risk the possibility of infection and stay in your room all day because unlike you, your germs feared Spider. You'd close all the lights and the both of you would lay on your bed and look at the glowing solar system Max and Norm had painted on your ceiling. It was a moment of peace he wouldn't exchange for the world, just lying next to his sister in the dark, basking in the silence.

Until he speaks. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we lived on Earth?"

You turn to him. "I'd always be in the hospital"

"Yeah, well what's different now?" He bit back.

You chewed on your lower lip, he was right. "We'd be going to school, we'd have friends-"

"-that are not giant blue aliens" He adds, the both of you laughing.

"You think if we were on Earth we wouldn't be orphans?"

He shifts, and the bed bounces underneath you. "Maybe" Spider replied cautiously. "If my mom hadn't been flying that gunship she'd probably still be here... not sure about my dad though"

"You're lucky you knew your dad"

He shook his head adamantly. "No I'm not"

"Fine, then you're not" you say, giving up.

"Would we even know eachother if our moms weren't brought here? If they hadn't met our dads?"

This made Spider think hard. "We still would, my mom knows your aunt Trudy"

"No, they met at that flight school, if they weren't chosen, they wouldn't know eachother, we wouldn't know eachother"

This made him tuck his lips together. "I guess you're right"

"I am right" You tell him, propping yourself up by your forearm, Spider mirroring your action. "But what does it matter anyway? We're stuck here, there's no life for us back in Earth cuz it's dying, we've got nowhere else to go"

"Then I guess we gotta stick together don't we?" He replies, poking your shoulder. "Us outsiders gotta stick together, Spider and Firefly, that way nothing can tear us apart"

You grinned, your teeth lighting up in the darkness. "Nothing" You echoed, twirling your pinky over his, breathy giggles taking over you both.

You were the first to pull away, lying flat down on your back, using the same hand to scratch at your IV taped to your wrist used to replenish your dehydrated body. That was several months before the accident, where it changed your lives forever. It was never Spider and Firefly against the world anymore, it was just Spider.

Because the promise you had made to eachother, the promise of the two children orphaned by war initiated in a dark room lit up with neon stars and planets was forever broken.

The both of you grew up in Pandora, took your first steps on Pandora, spoke your first words on Pandora, you had Spider, Spider had you, he didn't care that he could spend most of everyday outside when you were stuck in your room. He'd tell you everything and spare no detail, the speeches, plays, and presentations you two had made to convince Max and Norm to let you out for 3 hours were the highlights of your life, especially when they'd agree.

He lost his mom, his dad, and when they pulled you out of that river unresponsive he thought he might as well lost you too.

2 months ago he had been bragging to the Sully children that he could palace his chin on top of your head without even standing on his tip toes, he blinked and suddenly you could place your entire forearm on top of his head without even trying. He stayed silent, knowing he should be grateful you weren't so sick anymore- but at what cost? He had been more alone now since before you were born, you had been alone together, now he was just alone.

But he wasn't the only one feeling what he was feeling, you were battling your own surges of loneliness trying to grab hold of you. It was a hard change, human food started to taste like paste, you weren't used to being a tug away from being naked, your skin being so blue. It was weird.

You shared a bond with Spider not even the other Sully kids could replicate, now he was gone, and you didn't know when you'd get him back, if you'd get him back.

Lo'ak snapped his fingers in front of you. "Baby sis, you good?"

You blinked. "Uh-huh" You mutter unconvincingly, standing up with a basket you dug against your hip, making your way down to the fish nets to retrieve your lunch for the day.

"What's up?"

"Missing Spider"

"Oh" He says. "He's a tough guy, he'll be fine"

Even Lo'ak didn't believe his words, and so you nodded along. "Yeah, I know"

He crouches beside you, grabbing the pesky fish that fought back and dropping them into the basket. "I've seen him chug Whiskey with a straight face, and, get a scolding from our parents for letting us take a sip, if he can survive that he can survive anything"

"I know he can" You tell him, sliding a fish into the hole of your basket. "Sometimes I just wonder if it's enough"

"It is" He assured you, placing a wet hand on your shoulder. You appreciated the gesture but pried his hand off of you moments later.

Lessons that afternoon were interesting, it was the only word that could sum up the entirety of what had awaited you after lunchtime. The moment you saw Ao'nubg across the beach with your siblings you turned your heel and bolted the other way, you hid in your Marui, helping your mother with repurposing old clothes, chopping fruit for dinner that night.

1, 2, 3, 4 Sullys on the beach, yet one was missing.

He itched to ask them, your brothers, it practically consumed him, knawed at him on the inside to ask your brothers where you were and why you missed your lessons.

Only at the end of the day did he finally give in. "Where is she?"

"Where is who?" Neteyam wonders.

"Your beloved sister?"

"Kiri? Tuk? They're right over there with Tsireya and Rotxo" Lo'ak butts in, pointing his thumb at the secondary group floating on their backs in the water, giggling and gliding.

He rolled his eyes. "No genius, your other one, Y/N?"

Lo'ak shrugged. "Dunno, she says she was dizzy, Mom didn't wanna let her swim in her state"

He hummed. "I see"

But for the past week, it was almost as if you hadn't run out of excuses to miss lessons. They'd wait half an hour for you to come out only for one of your siblings to tell the rest of your friends that you weren't coming. Ao'nung never bothered to come anymore, claiming that he himself wasn't feeling well and that he must have gotten what you've caught all the while having no interactions this past week.

After lessons, Tsireya would catch him hanging out with his other friends or if not then lying on his hammock throwing a woven grass ball in the air, but when his grating mother couldn't leave him alone for two seconds then he'd be riding his ilu on the other side of the island for some peace and quiet.

It was the 4th day of you purposely evading lessons, you sat in your Marui with your mother while she braided your hair. "When will you start attending lessons again Ma'íte?"

"When I feel better" You reply.

"There is this boy that keeps coming to our hut, he says he misses your presence in lessons" You practically froze on the spot as your heartbeat began to rise in a cresendo.

"What was his name?" Your mother asked to herself while you sat there and apprehensively awaited for her next words. "Ahh yes, Rotxo"

Either she knew what she was doing or she had no clue at all- but you wouldn't put it past her. "Yeah, Rotxo's a sweetheart"

Your mother hummed in agreement. "Yes, such a sweet boy, very polite" She stopped, tying off the braid she had previously been working with and starting on another one. "although you were never really drawn to the sweet ones, were you Ma'íte?"

This woman was sick.

"I don't know what you mean" You lie.

She giggles. "You might not be my child by blood but we are more alike than you thought" She asks you for one of the shells you were holding and you hand it to her, feeling her thread it into your locks. "Just say it, sweet girl"

"Say what?" You managed, ignoring the warmth that plagued your cheeks as you straightened your posture.

"That you thought I was talking about somebody else"

You needed to get out of here, she's practically nipping at your heels. Your sweet mother, bringing you in for slaughter. You remaining silent only made her laugh.

"So there is someone?"

"No" you replied a little too quickly. "No, there is no one"

"Then I believe you"

"Good, then we'll just chalk this conversation up to finished"

"Maybe we will" She tells you to stand up and look at yourself in the mirror, admiring the beads, shells, and hair cuffs you told her to put in, turning your head so that the sunlight reflected onto them.

"You did amazing mom, it looks beautiful" you grinned.

She smiles, placing her hands on your shoulders. "I did nothing sweet girl, the beauty is all yours"

"How's she feeling?" You both turn your heads to see your father walking in the Marui. "Still lightheaded?"

"She's feeling fine, aren't you Ma'íte?"

You nod.

He took one good look at your face and turns to your mother. "Neytiri, her face is all flushed, is she coming down on a fever?"

Your eyes widen as you whirl your head towards the mirror. Goddamnit.

You mother pretends to be shocked, turning you to face her. "Your father is right, maybe you should stay home today afterall"

You shook your head. "No I think I'll go out today, it's been long enough"

Jake frowned. "Is she sure? Are you sure? "

You nodded. "Mm-hm" already making your way across the Marui.

"No funny business alright???"

"Alright! Alright!"

"Y/N!" Your father called out.

"I got it!" Was all you said before you jogging down the steps and onto the beach.

Neytiri approached Jake by the mouth of the Marui, the pair of them watching as you ran up to your other siblings and your friends splashing eachother with water by the coastline.

"Ma Jake" Neytiri began.

"Mm"

"It may have escaped your notice but no matter how much you deny it, she is her own woman now, not the little girl we have taken under our wing so many years ago"

Jake sighed, his ears flattening against the sides of his skull as he turns his head towards Neytiri. "I know that"

"I know you do, and yet you refuse to acknowledge it"

"She's got too much fire in her"

"That is a good thing"

"Come on, you knew Betty, cross her one time she'll cross your heart out" He exclaimed, trying to prove his point.

"Ma Jake, believe me when I say that you cannot keep protecting her forever, someday you have to let her go"

"I made a promise to her mother that I'll keep her safe, with everything she's done for me in the past I owe her that much" He explained, Neytiri places a hand on his cheek in the process. "I'm too scared of screwing this up, I try and limit her, and what is she doing? She's going against me, fooling around"

They watched as you joined in on the fight, cringing and screaming when Kiri sent a huge wave your way. "Go easy on her, if you restraint her too much she will drift farther and farther away from us"

"I haven't been living up to my promise like I wanted, I've almost lost her once, I'm not about to let that happen again"

They turn to the beach again and watch as You and Tuk harshly tackle Neteyam, Rotxo and Kiri throwing fistfuls of sand at eachother, and Tsireya giggling her head off as Lo'ak tried pulling off a piece of seaweed that had gotten stuck on his tail but ended up spinning around like a top.

"Stay down!" Tuk screamed at Neteyam floating in the water pretending to be dead and even sticking his tongue out for effect.

You grab her waist and placed her on your shoulders. "The mighty warriror Tuktirey has defeated the fearsome wildebeest, she knows nothing! only rage!"

She let's out a war cry, everyone else in the group started doing the same causing passersby to look at what was causing the sudden ruckus on the shoreline She then leaps off of you and into Neteyam causing a huge splash, she pretends to wrestle with his body while your oldest brother tried his hardest to contain his giggles. All of you began chanting Tuk's name as she managed to stand on Neteyam's chest (with him holding her by her ankles of course) banging her fists on her chest as you all started hooting and cheering for her.

Since you were so close to your Marui, Neteyam (who you were sure had a bruised lung at this point) got word from your father that you were allowed to stay out a little later than usual.

Lo'ak was with Tsireya somewhere, Neteyam and Kiri were riding their íkrans above the islands, which left you and Tuk collecting shells on the beach.

"This one! This one!" She says, pointing a finger at a shell that looked similar to one she picked earlier.

"You already have one that looks like that" You say, holding a bucket already half-full of shells.

"Yeah but now I have two of these, so if I lose the other one I got this one" She explained whilst dropping it in the bucket, joining the other shells.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Can't argue with that logic"

All of a sudden you hear Tuk gasp, you turn around just in time before you see her bolt into the forest. Abandoning the bucket you run after her, calling her name, firing threats at her until you reach a clearing and you realize you lost sight of her.

"Tuk!" You shout. "Dad will skin you alive!"

No response, only the breeze and the chirping of insects in the distance mocking you.

"Come out! Come on! " You say, looking behind trees and bushes, behind rocks and shrubs. "Tuktirey Te Suli Neytiri'ite this is not funny!"

"Kinda is"

Your head snaps up at the voice, but you don't turn around.

"chilly night tonight, isn't it Forest Girl?"

At that you finally turn around to see Ao'nung, leaning against a tree, sporting a devilish smirk.

You feel your hands ball up into fists, your nails creating crescent shaped dents onto your palm. "What did you do to my sister"

His eyes widen, he shows you his palms, chuckling raucously. "If my calculations are correct she might be running into your brother and my sister any minute now" He steps forward. "Listen, I asked her to lead you into the forest so that I could talk to you, alone" He states, aquamarine eyes scanning your face. "I only wanted to talk to you"

You prayed to Eywa to give you the strength to not punch the lights out of this boy. "You were in cahoots with my sister??" You practically shrieked.

"Well-" He began, trying to think of a statement that he could use to defend himself but sighed when he realized his mind was blank. "Yes, that is exactly what it is"

"I can't believe you!" You spat, narrowing your eyes into slits.

"Y/N I just wanted to say sorry, please" He begs, the fact that this was the first time he used your actual name in front of you and not some derogatory nickname did not go unnoticed by you or him.

"You fuck up, you apologise, you trick me into trusting you and then what? You fuck up again?" You wonder. "Is this a part of your golden boy routine? Get some praise for admitting to your mistakes?"

"No" He proclaimed steadfast, walking up to you again so now there were only a handful of inches in between you. "I am the son of the Olo'eyktan, I should have been treating you with more respect, I have been stupid, an-and selfish and I have let arrogance and conceit take over me"

He stops to take a breath, wetting his lips before he continued. "I want you to see that I do not want my past behavior to define me, if you will accept my apology and let me make it up to you it would mean the world to me... but if you don't, just say the word and I will never show my face to you again"

An ultimatum. You shouldn't have expected less from him. You found yourself scanning his face for any weak points, any tell tale signs that might tell you he was lying and was only doing this as a dare or if his parents promised him a grave punishment when he came home unsuccessful. You hated it when you realized he was telling the truth.

As much as you would have loved walking the shores of Awa'atlu knowing that Ao'nung would never show you his putrescent face again- you couldn't help but succumbing to his words, his promises, you were fighting with yourself, telling your other half to turn heel and sprint, sprint, and never look back but you were falling, he was using his tricks against you, letting his big blue eyes do all the work.

That was when you felt it, a little flame, bursting to life inside of you, warm, unfamiliar, questionable, lighting up the dark caverns of your chest, flooding it with an obscure sensation.

"Why did you want to talk to me all the way out here? In the forest?"

He sighs. "My father encourages me to maintain good relationships with all the Sully children, he says that it is most vital to have connections once I become chief..."

You cock your head to the side a little. "...but?"

"My mother says that I do not need to see you more than I have to"

And there it was.

"Why?" You implore.

"She thinks you're the one that is causing me to skip lessons and my training-"

"-You've been skipping lessons?" Was what left your mouth.

"Admittedly, yes, I have been skipping lessons"

"Why?"

"I didn't feel like attending them"

You gave him a genuine look of disbelief. "That's it?"

"What about you?" He evades. "I heard you have not been keeping up on appearances either"

"Yeah, I wasn't feeling all that great the past few days" you confessed, crossing your arms over your chest. "But I guess I'm feeling better now"

He nods languidly, taking in the situation. "So will you be coming tomorrow?"

You look at the ground then up at Ao'nung. "maybe"

"Good" He says with a smile, you almost wondered why it was so good to him but he squashes your assumptions when he opened his mouth again. "I might have to teach you how to swim all over again"

You flick your finger against his toned forearm, making him look at it and let out a scoff of objection. "Don't get ahead of yourself"

The silence that followed after was evident, your eyes travel up to the sky and realize that it might be around dinner time, mere seconds before your Dad starts ringing the dinner bell and all 5 of you scurry back to the pod like a bunch of sows.

"I guess I'll see you around?" You spoke up, making his head turn to you again. "I gotta go find my sister before she makes Awa'atlu falls to its knees"

"Wait" says he, making you stop. "You never answered me"

You exhaled through your mouth. "Fine you skxawng, I forgive you" you see him grin, ducking his head. "What will the nation do if you never show your face to anyone ever again?"

"I agree, pretty things should be enjoyed"

You involuntarily gagged, earning a loud chuckle from him. "Come on, you like looking at my face"

You remain quiet as he chuckles to his own joke, you roll your eyes and turn around. "Goodnight jackass"

He collects himself. "Goodnight tree hugger"

"Keep 'em coming" you taunt, hurriedly making your way out of the forest as he stays and watches you leave. Only when he was sure you were out of earshot was when he punches a fist in the air and whoops in glee.

"The ocean blessed you with a gift, brother "

Ao'nung stirred. "The Tulkun have not returned yet, and anyway no Tulkun is ever alone"

"This one was" You turn to your brother, sat across from you. "He had a- a missing fin, like a stump, on the left side"

Tsireya's expression changes. "Payakan"

"Who's Payakan?" Kiri wonders.

"A young bull who went rogue, he's outcast, alone, and has a missing fin" says Rotxo.

Tsireya turns to Lo'ak, taking his arm. "They say he is a killer"

"He killed Na'vi," Ao'nung butts in. "And other Tulkun" He says, leaning forward, his eyes meeting yours before it lands to Lo'ak. "Not here, but far, to the South" He adds.

Lo'ak shook his head, intent on proving his point. "He's not a killer"

Tsireya purses her lips beside you. "Lo'ak, you are lucky to be alive"

"I'm telling you guys, he saved my life, he's my friend!"

"My baby bro!" Neteyam crooned. "Who faced the killer Tulkun, and lived to tell about it" Lo'ak shrugged Neteyam's arm away, standing up to face all of you. "You guys aren't listening"

"Lo'ak I'm listening!"

"Lo'ak come back, you skxawng"

Neteyam runs off to follow him, Tuk dragging Tsireya and Kiri off to the ilu pen, Rotxo following them just for the sake of Kiri, leaving Ao'nung and you behind.

"And then there were two" He beamed, following you as you walked down the steps of the platform and onto the beach. You couldn't help but notice the slight bounce to Ao'nung's steps when he started walking in front of you "You were a whole lot quieter today, Forest Girl, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

You shook your head at him, biting down on a smile. "You're baiting me, no thank you"

"I am doing nothing of the sort!" He exclaims, giving you a playful frown. "You wound me, Forest Girl"

"Good, somebody's gotta keep you on your toes"

He gave you an unsatisfied hum. "Thank Eywa for you then"

"Damn right, you should be" You replied, approaching the trees that lined the beach, hearing the creaking of the branches only to see Ao'nung already 3 feet above you. "Get down from there, I don't wanna have to carry you all the way home just because you broke something"

"I think I'll risk it," He says. "That way you've got a better of view of me from up here" He begins flexing his muscles in front of you and you shot him a look of disgust, gritting your teeth to keep you from giggling. You failed.

What was happenning?

Ao'nung finally hops down, landing on the sand beside you. "We have got plenty of time to kill before eclipse, what do you suggest we do?"

You begin walking again, Ao'nung following you. "We sit and watch the water"

"Boring" He droned.

You look at him with eyes wide. "You were the one who asked"

"Clearly my mistake, I did not realize how utterly dull you are"

You stopped walking and turned to him, raising a quizzical brow. "What about you smart guy? What do you suggest we do?" You wonder.

He shrugged, a sly smirk playing at his face. "I was thinking we just go to the cave and-"

You stop him from talking by placing a finger over his mouth. "Nuh-uh, the last time we went there I practically got my ass beat because of it, I am literally an arguement away from my Dad chaining me to our Marui"

He compromised. "Fine, we could go to the other side of the island and visit the waterfalls?"

"I'm not allowed to go to the other side of the island"

"Your father won't know"

"No means no, Ao'nung" You insist.

He threads his fingers together, cracking his knuckles. "You wanna go to the diving rock? It's got a killer drop, 30 feet"

You shook your head. "No, no more swimming"

"Then I have got nothing" He confessed, placing his hands on his hips and facing the water.

"Look, you don't need to push it, bro" You tell him, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was like he took a punch to the gut. "You can go do all that stuff without me, I'll just hold you down"

"You wouldn't" He says, making your ears flick upwards. "I just wanted to..."

"Wanted what?"

His eyes meet yours, turning his body away. "It's- nevermind that now, it is stupid"

You slap his shoulder. "No it won't, tell me"

He keeps his eyes down, only meeting your gaze every now and then just to catch a glimpse of your face, how the setting sun casted a syrupy glow onto your face, how it only made him want to look at you longer. It was like an anvil had been tied to his ankles, pulling him down to the seabed, down, down, down until he finally allows it.

"I wanted you to stay a bit longer" He concedes.

"Why?" You teased. "All you gotta do is ask"

He looked unsure, hesitant but scans your face nonetheless, after a moment of standing, the setting sun a witness to Ao'nung's diffident self, he sighs. "Will you stay?" He finally asks.

You considered it, turning to the water as you felt your lips curling up into a mischeivous grin. "Fine, only because you begged" You said. "Desperation is a good look on you, you know" Ao'nung shoves you again and you stagger back cackling, letting your laughter rip.

You see him grinning too, pointing at you as you kept on laughing. "Foul play, you do not get to word it that way"

"I was telling the truth!"

"You were twisting my words" He insists, giving you a shrewd smile.

"Only a little bit" you admit, pushing your hair away from your face and sitting down on the sand

He props his leg up, placing his elbow over his knee while you sat cross legged. "I hope your father didn't reprimand you any more than what I have seen two days ago"

"No, he just gave me the silent treatment, he always does it"

"Now why would he do that?"

"He dosen't want to fight with me anymore than he already does, that's why he stays quiet"

He lets out a condescending scoff. "Dosen't look like it"

You half-shrugged. "I'm used to it, it's no big deal"

A moment of silence settles.

"Open out your hand" Ao'nung says oh so suddenly.

You turn to him, your interest piqued. "Why?"

"Just do it" He says, pointing his chin at your hand. "And look the other way"

You sighed, opening your palm and keeping your eyes away until he dropped something in the middle of your hand, something cold, something hard. You finally look down and you couldn't help the gasp that escaped your lips.

It was a necklace. Held together by golden twine with clay beads and pearls strung a centimeter away from the others, then, a pearlescent conch shell as big as your thumb in the very middle.

It looked amazing.

You hated it.

"I asked Tuk for the beads you managed to gather, wasn't hard, all I had to do was bribe her with some candied fruit" He surmised like it was something to be proud of.

"You've got to stop using my sister for your stunts" You say, placing the necklace against the light, your smile widening to an O as it glimmered.

He smirked, ducking his head. "She's the only Sully who truly likes me"

"That's not true" You tell the boy, waiting for him to look up to you, and when he does you continue. "Not really"

And this boy blushes.

"Hah! 14 different shades of purple!" You shout.

He dosen't say anything, only letting you make fun of him, prodding at his forearms, giggling when he averts his face.

"Are you done?" He asks after a while, failing at stifling a grin.

You shrugged, lifting your hair up to tie the necklace together. "Maybe" you laughed, patting your hair down and raising your eyebrows at him. "So, how's it look?"

"Uhh, it looks- it looks great" He responds, feeling the unfamiliar warmth blossom beneath your ribs. "Now you'll have something to draw attention away from your frightening face"

You click your tongue at him, hearing his infectious laugh and watching as he shields his face away from the beating that was about to come.

"Y/N"

The laughter stops. The both of you whirl around to see Neteyam donning his signature stony expression, you stand up straighter, distancing yourself from Ao'nung.

"Come on" says Neteyam, his gaze switching to you, then to Ao'nung, then the necklace. "Mom's calling you, she needs help with dinner"

"Can't you help her?" You can't help but wonder. That was probably too mean.

"She wasn't calling me was she?" He retorted, ice running through your veins. "And anyway, i'm not interrupting anything here, am I?"

"No" You tell him.

"Then let's go" He says, you reluctantly walk towards him, he takes your shoulder, leading you out of there as he looks at Ao'nung whose eyes followed you away a little too long for his liking.

"Ao'nung" Neteyam acknowledges.

He nods. "Neteyam" says Ao'nung.

You both arrived at the Marui, your mood souring by the second. "Explain yourself" Neteyam demands.

You spun around. "What is there to explain? you saw us, we were just talking"

"I mean if you know the way he looks at you or you're just pretending to be blind"

"What are you talking about?" You almost screeched, your eyebrows knitting.

"I don't like you hanging around him," Neteyam tells you, pointing back at the beach. "he's bad news"

You hiss at him but what came out was a groan of annoyance, walking deeper into your pod. "Just butt out of my business"

"Your business is my business!" He tells you pointing at his chest.

"That is not true"

Neteyam groans. "It's Ao'nung, Y/N" He emphasized.

"I am perfectly aware of his name" You sassed.

"He's too old for you" Neteyam insists. "He'll break your heart"

You let out an incredulous laugh, as you turned around. you couldn't believe what he was saying, what he thought was happenning. "That is not what was happenning back there, alright?"

"Why'd he give you that then??"

You don't answer him, instead you scoffed, rolling your honey color eyes. "You are way off-base"

"No," He insisted, stopping you from walking out of the Marui. "what I am is right"

You throw your hand in the air as you walked passed your oldest brother, silencing him. "Whatever, I'm done here"

"I'm still talking to you"

"Well I'm not" You yelled back, running down to the beach, your anger simmering.

In an attempt to avoid your big brother you decide to join both your sisters, Rotxo, and Tsireya to visit the Cove of the Ancestors, hastily agreeing and in a hurry to hop up on your ilu, your brother decided that he would not let you go away so easily and insists that he joined too.

"We have to be there before eclipse settles, it's better that way" Rotxo appends with a grin, before his ilu splashes him in the face, Kiri laughing at his misfortune.

And Rotxo was right. It did look better after eclipse.

The sky may have darkened into a deep prussian blue but the water hadn't, it glowed several different shades of purple, you look down and see a warped image of their spirit tree, your siblings oohing and ahhing beside you.

All of you swim downwards, Rotxo instructing you to connect your queue to one of the bright purple margins of the leaves and you do, once you had linked your queue it felt as though you were being pulled through a blinding white tunnel, until it stops, and you land on all fours like you had been thrown out of there by some disembodied force.

You look up, you were back in the lab.

Your bare feet on the cold obsidian like tiles giving you fleeting flashbacks of what it was like to be standing back here, your first home. You look down, your hands were smaller, you weren't blue anymore, you adjust your focus to your reflection on the tiles and there it was.

You were a human again.

The sound of arguing catches your attention, it was coming from a few doors down and so you stood up, feeling the weight of your bones pulling you down, the world spun you around and you grab the nearest object to steady yourself, blinking until the world stopped spinning. You slowly made your way across the lab, the familiar mess of papers, the coffee stained tables, holograms of different insects, different plants propped up, books open to pages booked marked with sticky notes, the familiar intricate yet haphazard scrawl of Norm's handwriting, how his t's had a little tail.

"I trusted you! I trusted all of you!" The voice was a woman's, loud, piercing, she was definitely angry, but about what?

"Look, listen to us, all we wanted, all I wanted was to keep her safe, I tried my best Betty, believe me"

Betty?

There was no way.

"Don't try and kiss my ass Sully, do you think I believe the shit you're tryna feed me?" She shouts, followed by a few words in some foreign language where she rolled her r's a lot. "I told you to take care of her, then I come back 8 years later because she cracked her skull open because you- you! " You heard a tussle, like she had pushed someone into a wall. "You let her out at night in this cesspool! In the pouring rain!"

"Betty, we didn't know it was going to rain, alright?"

"Shit excuse, you have trackers in their exopacks don't you?"

"We do but- but Spider and Y/N managed to bypass it without us knowing, we had a hard time locating them and when we did-"

"-My baby's been bleeding out for 20 minutes" She says as you her tired voice turn brittle. "20 minutes" She repeats.

You finally see the door at the end of the hallway, its hinges eased open letting out a ray of periwinkle light on the floor. You walk up to it, standing on your toes and you see a woman, her thick wavy locks looked more puffed up when she was angry, her hickory brown eyes practically piercing needles onto Jake's face, Jake, who was also human, who was standing on his own two feet.

"That's 20 minutes too long Sully"

"Betty, we can't count our losses in this scenario" Jake tells her. "Look, her conditions stable-"

"-Yeah her conditions stable but she's damn lucky she didn't suffer any permanent neurotrauma"

"Betty "

"You're done Jake" says your mother, prodding a finger at his chest, you watch him raise his palms and cringe. "I'm taking her back"

Jake's eyes widen. "You can't do that"

"She's my daughter"

"I raised her! " Jake snapped.

" She was never yours! " Your mother retaliated.

You feel Jake's heart rip at the seams just by the look of his face. "Betty, you can't do this" He says weakly.

"Tough luck Sully, I can"

"What if we all just take a breather-"

"-Up your ass Norm" with that the door sprang wide open and you truly see what was going on, there was Jake, there was your Mom, there was Norm, there was Max.

And they were all looking at you.

"Luz, Míja, what are you doing up??"

Who the hell was Luz?

Was that supposed to be you? The name she gave you before she died? Before Neytiri came in and gave you a new one? One that stuck so well that even Norm and Max started using it?

You don't answer, still shell-shocked from taking all of this in for the first time.

"Come on, we have to go," She says, grabbing your hand and leading you out of there.

She pulls you out of there, further out of the lab and you pass by a mirror, you see a fleeting image of yourself, you were 8 again, practically skin and bone, fresh and healed bruises everywhere, knobby knees, and sallow skin. How the hell?

"You can't take her away!" Jake yelled. "Please, Betty! you're not thinking this through! Please! " The desperation in his voice was evident, it almost tugged at your heartstrings before you remembered how he treated you, how he snapped at you and yelled at you, restricted you, and berated you.

She keeps pulling you, pulling you out of the lab, your eyes widen as you remember you didn't have an exopack, nothing happens, you didn't choke on the spot, you see the Sully kids the way you remembered them that night- scared, shaken, dejected, calling out your name as you were pulled away by your mother, Neytiri holding all of them back.

You turn to Betty Chacon and the woman she was, your mother, the one who birthed you, and gave you life.

You couldn't believe she was here. You gripped around her hand tightly, following her into the forest where you walked through the trees. Until you hit a branch and your vision turns black.

Your eyes snapped open, realizing you had been pulled out of your encounter with your mother, at first you were angry, it was too short, you wanted her back, until you realize the spirit tree blinked like a lightbulb going haywire, you see your sister convulsing beside you. Anxiety floods your nerves as you jolt her awake, realizing you needed to pull her braid out but when you did it felt like your whole body was on fire.

TRIGGER WARNING !

Fire.

You open your eyes again and you see fire festering all around you.

You see blurry, fleeting images of Quaritch, you hear guttural screams, shrill screams, knife tearing through flesh, splattering, it was blood splattering on the stones. You blinked hard and see your family all lined up in front of you, impaled by sticks, you could hear blood splattering on the floor like you had just hung the washing and not wringing it dry, you run to help them, making a beeline towards Neteyam who was in front of you, but you screamed, realizing he had no face, like somebody has ripped it off his head.

"You're next" And it was Quaritch who was standing behind you, throwing Neteyam's face onto the rock like a slab of wet cloth, right beside the others, whose expressions of terror were imprinted on their faces forever.

END !

You feel your world jolt, when in reality it had been Rotxo shaking you out of your reverie, asking if you were okay or not answer you didn't think of answering back, only swimming up to the surface because you remembered your sister shaking violently.

You and Rotxo resurface to see Neteyam giving Kiri CPR atop his ilu, she gasps, and the next thing you knew Neteyam zooms out of there, Tsireya calling for Tuk to ride with her, leaving you with Rotxo who places a hand on your shoulder.

"Y/N! Y/N are you alright???" He practically demands, his wide eyes full of worry.

You blinked, almost having to untie your mouth open to speak. "We need to go back, my- Kiri- she's-"

"And we will," Rotxo assures you. "Hinewai is here already, see? Do you need a moment?"

You shook your head, propping yourself up on Hinewai's back. "No"

You and Rotxo speed through the waters to make it back to the village where you see throngs of village gathering around the beach, seeing your sister being transferred onto a bamboo gurney, hearing your mother's inconsolable wails wracking her body as Jake held her in his arms, barking orders left and right, Neteyam making sure they were being carried out, Tuk was sobbing, Tsireya stood close by in order to calm her, you couldn't find Lo'ak anywhere, there were too. much. people.

Your chest tightens again.

#ao'nung x fem!reader #metkayina #omatikaya #jake sully #neytiri #ao'nung fic #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #tsireya #neteyam #spider #lo'ak #kiri #tuk #rotxo #atwow ao'nung #atwow #avatar the way of water #sold out of love ao'nung

[honeydjarin]

TO THE BONE PART II

DIN DJARIN X READER

Crowds part for the Mandalorian, eyes averted, a constant path standing clear before him even in the busiest places. By the time you realize exactly why his kind is so feared, it’s too late for you. Your silence just might be your downfall.

warnings: fem!reader, soulmates, non-consensual drug use, Dr. Pershing conducts tests on unwilling subjects, canon typical violence

word count: 6,800

a/n: Thank you so much for all of the kind feedback on the first part of this series! I’m so excited to continue this journey together.

I have several parts written, and hope to post every two weeks. That may change towards the end depending on how long it takes to get the end written.

EDIT: reposting because the previous version wasn’t showing up in the tags

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST || AO3

It’s been a while since you were last in hyperspace. You’ve forgotten the strength of the initial jump, the atmospheric turbulence transitioning into something much smoother. You’ve forgotten the lurching in your stomach as your body tries to adjust to going far faster than should be possible for a human.

If you don’t think about why you’re traveling, or who is keeping you company during the journey, you just might find this jump through hyperspace peaceful. There are only the stars streaking by around you, clear of your path as you hurtle along the various hyperlanes throughout the galaxy. 

Traveling with the Mandalorian is even quieter than most of your journeys through the galaxy have been. The starliners were always busy, loud, and often ran late, as is to be expected from any sort of public transportation hub. But when you left home to travel the galaxy, the commercial ships had been the only way for you to see new star systems, or at least the only way that wouldn’t put you at risk of having a bounty on your head. The passenger liners always served your purpose despite the constant noise of those also seeking to planet hop. 

You could get a flight at a reasonable cost, and travel between most of the well settled planets regardless of where they were in the galaxy. Even the Outer Rim has its fair share of ports, constantly shutting people for work or trade between planets, or even just for the sake of sightseeing. You could pretend you were running towards a new future for yourself, one that didn’t include the Force, unchanging destinies, or bounty hunters. You could pretend that it wasn’t really your home that you were running from, or that you weren’t really just trying to escape from yourself.    

Even later, when the future you had fought so hard against began to pass, your fate sealed because of the skills your mother had taught you instead of letting your gifts fade to nothing, when you became a target, there was constant commotion in the starships. Passenger liners were no longer a safe way for you to travel, and the smaller, privately owned ships rang out with a different type of noise. Too much sabacc, too much alcohol, too much money lost. These things always led to raised voices and stray blaster fire. 

You felt safer there than you do now. Each moment the words on your forearm weren’t spoken was a promise that you would survive at least one more day.   

The Mandalorian’s starship isn’t like those other transports. It’s quiet, near silent, more so than the scarcely populated Arvala-7. This is the quietest journey across the galaxy you’ve ever been on. There is no conversation, no threats, no blaster fire or raucous laughter. Just a single warning. 

“Don’t touch this,” the Mandalorian said as he locked up his extensive arsenal of weapons upon your entry onto the ship. You doubt you could find a way to crack open the door even if you wanted to. Not without the Force. Then he herded you towards a short ladder, one that reaches up to a second level above, before undoing the restraints just long enough to reattach them to a rung just below the height of your chest. It was high enough to be uncomfortable but low enough that you wouldn’t risk losing feeling in your arms. The action was just more insurance that you won't touch his stuff, it seemed. He left you there alone in the hull and took the still unconscious child up the ladder with him. At least he didn’t shut the door to the cockpit behind him. 

Now, you’re left to wonder if you’ll spend the whole journey like this. 

You almost think he forgot about you. or he finally decided you’re not a flight risk. He has you trapped on his ship with nowhere to possibly run. He only needs to worry about what you might do to the starship itself. 

He doesn’t come back down from the cockpit, even when he clearly has the ship on autopilot. You stretch back as far as you can and watch from below as he turns towards the pram floating beside him, rocking it gently a few times. Grogu must still be asleep. It is a sweet gesture, or it would be, if the hunter wasn’t still planning on turning you both in to whoever the latest client is. It is only then, after he finishes checking on the kid, that he climbs back down the ladder from the cockpit to check on you again.

He removes your binders completely and your arms fall instantly to your sides, not knowing what else to do with them. The Mandalorian makes no indication of wanting to put the restraints back on you. He doesn’t speak, and doesn't show you any further signs of acknowledgement. He just steps back and climbs up the ladder to the cockpit once more. 

It’s too quiet in the Mandalorian’s ship, the silence stretching on from the moment he released you from the restraints. With no chatter, no attempt by the armored man to make you comfortable, no sign of where it is he’s taking you, the silence settles like a heavy weight that pulls you into the floor more firmly than the ship’s artificial gravity. It’s suffocating.  

The Mandalorian intends to hand you off to the client, take his reward, and then forget about you and the child. You know you’re just a job to him, even if he is your soulmate. So you intend to leave as much of an impression as you can. He only told you not to touch where he stores his weapons. He didn’t say anything about the rest of the starship, so you can touch everything else… right? 

You cast a lingering glance towards the carbonite freezer. There are no bodies that you know of on the ship right now, but you’re certain the bounty hunter is more than willing to use it on a quarry. Would he freeze you if he caught you touching his things? 

If he needs you alive, then you doubt it’s a risk he is willing to take. Not when 60% of those put in carbonite don’t survive the process, and the ones that do often face other side effects such as hibernation sickness and temporary blindness. Still, you'll just have to be careful in your meddling. 

As if he can sense your intentions to snoop, the Mandalorian returns for you.

“Come into the cockpit,” he states, leaving no room for argument. 

He helps you to struggle up the ladder, your arms half numb from being restricted, just to make sure you don’t fall and crack your head open, before he makes you sit in one of the remaining unoccupied seats of the cockpit. Your hands remain free, the Mandalorian considering you to not be a threat—it’s almost pitiful. His gaze holds steady on the galaxy before him, trusting that you couldn’t hurt him even if you tried. He still doesn’t speak to you, and you're not really sure if he is comfortable in the silence or not. You are once again reminded that he is most likely used to being completely alone while traveling through the galaxy. 

It’s a thought that almost makes you sad.   

—☾—

He brings you to another desert planet, one you’ve never been to before and really don’t want to be on now. 

It’s more populated than Arvala-7, the entire population of the previous planet likely not even the equivalent of half the faces you see milling about before you here, especially now that the Niktos no longer have control of the bunker. 

There were no towns on Arvala-7, just some farms, some Jawas, and the hideout, but it didn’t feel gloomy there, even when you were trapped in the bunker walls. The sun would always filter through the slatted windows—they were too small to climb through but just enough to give you a glimpse outside the walls and remind you of the galaxy beyond the well guarded building. The sunlight would glint on the dust particles and show you how they danced through the air, almost as if they were alive. 

Here, everything is dark. The earth is black, burned from the same magma that created it, the sky turned grey with the ever smoldering cinders of the planet. It looks as though a raging storm is coming, but the lack of moisture in the air indicates otherwise. 

You can taste the planet burning on your tongue. Do the people around you taste it too? Or has everyone here grown used to the acrid ash filling their lungs? The Mandalorian pulling you once more by the restraints down the ramp of his ship doesn’t seem to notice. The filter in his helmet keeps all impurities in the air out of his body, just another form of armor against any adversary he might face. 

The docking area, not so much a bay as an expanse of flat land outside of the town limits, has several worn down starships settled in it, the old yellow paint detailing on the Mandalorian’s ship being one of the only things that makes it stand out from the other docked ships. The hunter leads you through the bustling shipyard and pulls you directly to the main street in the town. 

The town’s entrance is framed by a giant stone archway made from the same grey material as everything else around you. The top is almost more square than round, and crumbling from age in different parts. It is still magnificent despite its weathering. The structure towers above everything around it, no building in the town coming close to the height of the arch. 

You stumble slightly as you gawk, too busy paying attention to what lies above you than what rests on the ground before you. You fail to see the uneven dip of the unpaved path, and the toe of your boot catches on the solid earth. The Mandalorian’s grip on you is the only thing that prevents you from tumbling to your knees. 

“Keep up,” he demands, his tone giving away his clear irritation despite the lack of change in his body language. But he still pauses, gives you just a moment to get your feet back under you, before he continues into the town once more. It’s another moment resembling kindness, even if it’s over in a flash. He returns to pulling you forward through the threshold, Grogu floating by your side.

While the street around you is wide, it feels as though the edges are pressing into you, the walls growing closer as the number of sentient lifeforms increases. All around you are vendors stationed at various market stalls—the smell and smoke of cooking food wafts your way from many of the stands, the scents barely stronger than the natural smell of the planet. Groups and individuals of all species are shouting and laughing, some stopping at the stalls while others push through the crowd, heading to some other destination. The commotion in this place is the complete antithesis of the last few days spent on the Mandalorian’s starship. 

The child watches from his spot close by your side, curious about the new location. He doesn’t know that soon your safety will not be guaranteed. He coos slightly each time you’re hit with a new smell, reaching a clawed hand out towards whatever food catches his interest. Even though he ate a ration bar not long ago, the kid is hungry once more. 

In other circumstances you would like to stop and look at the different stands. You would find some real food for the kid to eat, making sure he ate slowly so as not to upset his stomach, as he is prone to do. But the rations have all of the nutrients he needs, and you don’t have that kind of freedom.    

Despite the close press of the crowd, no one jostles into you, even when many keep their eyes away from your form, gazes directed instead at the Mandalorian in front of you. It’s obvious that the majority of those wandering the streets here are not the most law-abiding of people, if the number of blasters and vibroblades you see looped around belts and strapped to thighs is any indication of their character. 

The Republic has little control over the planets in the Outer Rim, creating the perfect breeding ground for those living outside the law, the distance from the rest of the galaxy offering a sense of freedom that often goes too far beyond the line of what’s considered moral by most. But even here the crowd parts for the Mandalorian to pass through. You and The Child receive little attention compared to the armored man directly in front of you. 

The Mandalorian shows no sign that the staring bothers him. He hardly changes his trajectory as he pulls you through the market, the dark visor of his helmet never wavering from the path in front of him. 

“This way,” he grunts, tugging you in a new direction without any further warning. Your new course takes you down an alley. 

There are far fewer people here than there were on the main street. Somehow all the clamor and commotion fades away almost immediately, leaving nothing but the rising fear behind. It bubbles in your gut and turns your stomach sour. There is nothing to distract yourself with now. Nothing but the dull reflection of the churning firmament off the Mandalorian’s helmet, and the dented cuirass—which no longer looks bloodied, the paint instead like rust, in the grey haze of this planet—that has lost almost all of its integrity since he first began dragging you with him from the bunker. 

You wish you could beg, or cry, or even just speak to him. You should do something to stop this, anything to keep him from turning you and the child in for the bounty. If you could just talk to him things could be so different. But you’ve spent your whole life building up resentment for the man, and something that looks like compassion doesn’t mean it is kindness.

 He could still be cruel, and speaking to him may lead to a far worse outcome than you’re already facing. You’ve spent your whole life determining his character without even meeting him and now you can’t bring yourself to reveal the truth. You wish you weren’t so stubborn. 

You wish stubbornness didn’t feel so much like fear. 

The hunter drags you down several other streets and alleys, twisting and turning along the town’s winding passage ways, up and down short flights of stairs until you are too lost to even think of making your way back to the main street—not that doing so would provide any real safety, not when a Mandalorian is after you.

Finally, he brings you to a halt in front of a nondescript door in the back of an alley. He lifts his free hand up to knock on the door, the sound of his fist against metal reverberating off the walls inside in a dead and hollow clang. 

For a moment nothing happens, and you almost think the Mandalorian managed to get lost in the streets himself. Then, a camera the shape of an eye stalk extends from a hatch beside the door, speaking robotically in a language you don’t recognize but must mean something to the Mandalorian. He holds something up in front of the camera, receiving a response in that same unknown language, before the camera disappears in the hatch once more. 

The door hisses open slowly, a cool gust of air breathing against your face, raising goosebumps on your flesh. What lies behind the steel barricade is enough to make your blood run cold. 

The helmets that stare back at you aren’t supposed to exist anymore—at least, not attached to a body. They shouldn’t adorn walking, talking, living beings. But the ghostly figures clad in cheap white armor are clearly alive, and when you turn to look at the man who brought you here, the T of his visor that had seemed so neutral to you before begins to look more terrifying by the second. Suddenly you understand why crowds part around him, why people grow silent and avert their eyes in his presence, or keep their stare trained on him, ensuring that they are not the ones he is after. 

The ghosts usher the three of you into the hall behind the door, and as it slides shut once more you are confronted with the fact that you wasted any chance you had to run. You should have tried harder, fought tooth and nail to protect the child and yourself. Your knowledge of your connection to the Mandalorian allowed you to grow complacent during the journey here, but he doesn’t have the same knowledge as you. He has no reason to change his routine when he is oblivious to the truth. 

You hate him even more for his unwilling ignorance. 

One of the stormtroopers grabs onto the edge of Grogu’s pram, rocking it harshly. You want to scream at him to let go, to get away from the kid, but you can’t. Only now your silence isn’t a choice, it’s a product of fear. Even if you tried to open your mouth to speak, no words would make it past the thick shard of terror sinking down your throat—but you don’t have to speak. The Mandalorian interjects first, his tone sharp enough to send a chill up your spine.

“Easy with that,” he states, visor trained on the trooper. For just the smallest moment you feel hope, not enough to fill you up, to make your chest swell and your mind swarm with thoughts of escape, but just a little flicker. It’s another act of not quite kindness. A small part of you can’t help but think that maybe he won’t leave you here, even if you know there is no reason for him to take you away from this place. He intends to collect on the bounty regardless of your desires, regardless of the fact that you have done nothing to warrant this fate.  

You know It’s a silly thought as soon as you see the client. 

He’s an ex imperial officer. Rather, he should be ex imperial, but the troopers around you and the clear command he holds is evidence that despite the fall of the Empire, the Empire is not truly dead, and now you and the kid are just two more not quite Jedi in their hands. 

If your hands were free, everyone in the room would be tossed aside already, mere rag dolls when confronted with an energy far greater than any individual can ever truly comprehend, but the Force acts as an extension of your body, one you can’t access when your own hands hang uselessly in front of you, bound by your hips. 

You can’t think, can’t breathe. The men around you are talking but you can barely process what they’re saying. All you can do is watch as the kid is passed around, concerned eyes blinking up at you, and then at the Mandalorian. The hunter keeps his own gaze angled towards the client. 

“Yes, very healthy,” you hear someone say, but the words do not fully process in your mind. Suddenly, there is a hand grasping your jaw, fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks like talons, forcing you back into the present. Cold eyes bear down on your own, lips pulling taught over teeth in a sharp grin. 

This is what you’ve always been destined for.

A light shines at you, bathing your skin in a red glow, scanning for something. Whatever it is that the sensors pick up only makes the officer’s grin grow wider. He finally releases you from his grasp.  

“She will do well,” the officer claims, his tone carrying barely suppressed excitement that sends a shiver down your spine. 

Beside you, Grogu is crying. A man with wide, round glasses begins to pull you and the kid along behind him, heading towards a door away from the officer and the Mandalorian. You can’t bring yourself to turn back as the two discuss the hunter’s payment. 

You can’t let the Mandalorian see how the air has become too thick for you to breathe with ease, filling your lungs but providing no relief. You must hide the way your eyes have finally blurred with the tears you managed to keep at bay until this moment. And you cannot bring yourself to look at the man who the Force determined to be more entangled with you than anyone else in this vast galaxy. You don’t want to see him again.  

Even without turning, you can feel his eyes on you, burning as the spectacled man guides you and the child through the door and deeper into the building.

Suddenly you are glad for your silence. You are grateful for the whispers and less than subtle looks that led to you learning to always hide your mark, because a life with a man who would leave you in the hands of the Empire is not a life you want to live.      

—☾—

It appears that the scan was just the first test. The spectacled man tells you as much. He tells you his name is Dr. Pershing. He tells you that he is the one who will be conducting the tests, and that there will be many more to follow. 

“This will be much easier if you cooperate,” he says. “Otherwise you will be made to comply.”

He guides you to sit on a metal table, the chill of its surface immediately seeping through the thin layer of your clothes. The pram floats silently beside the doctor. Grogu’s large ears are lowered against the sides of his head, but at least he’s no longer crying. 

The tests begin simply. Pershing asks questions that you choose not to answer and that Grogu is unable to answer. Instead of responding, you look around the room, taking in the sterile smell and excessively white walls. It reminds you of a medical facility with big machines, tables, and tubes laid throughout the room. Two stormtroopers remain by the door, watching silently. This is not a place you want to be. You would rather be back with the Niktos. 

“When did you first realize you could do things others could not?” 

“Did you have training that fostered your connection with the Force?”

“Have you ever been tested for your Midi-chlorian count?” 

Your lack of cooperation becomes a growing frustration for the doctor as he continues to ask you more questions. A crease forms between his dark brows, a slight frown tugging at his lips, growing deeper each time you ignore him. He looks up from the holopad he was likely intending to take notes on before he realized you don’t plan on speaking, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose once more before speaking directly to you. 

“May I remind you that your cooperation will make this whole process run much smoother,” he nearly hisses. But there is something more than frustration in his expression, despite the sharp tone of his words. Something like fear seems to flash in his eyes, even if it is only for a brief moment. 

“You may,” you state, tone flat, hiding the storm of your emotions, “but it will not change anything.” 

Dr. Pershing huffs out a sigh before setting the holopad back on a table. 

“Then I will move forward with the other tests,” he says, stepping towards you. He attempts to guide you to lay back on the table, his brow creasing in concentration as he does, but you don’t budge.   

Suddenly, there are more hands on you, pushing you down, the cold metal of the table causing your muscles to spasm in a desperate attempt to avoid contact with the uncomfortable material. The Mandalorian’s binders were removed from your wrists sometime during your initial meeting with the Imperial officer (despite the clarity of the faces around you, you can’t seem to remember anyone removing your restraints), only to be replaced with something less permanent but somehow more painful. These temporary binders are removed now, but before you can relish in the freedom of your hands and attempt to sooth what you’re certain is bruising along your wrists, your arms are once again being restrained. 

Grogu ends up on a similar table. It’s more of a machine really, and you begin to panic.

“Don’t hurt him. Please,” you beg. 

“I will do what I can for the child, but results will be expected,” Pershing states, his words sounding almost truthful, and you hope it’s not some sick sort of mind game, something he’s saying solely to obtain your compliance.  

When he goes to draw blood from Grogu you fight to get to the child, pulling against your restraints even though doing so agitates the already sensitive skin and risks further damage to your flesh. The troopers are there to make sure that your struggle doesn’t amount to anything, and the Doctor is able to collect the blood sample that he needs. 

He returns to your side to collect a sample from you as well, even while you continue to struggle as much as possible. There is not much room to move between the restraints and the stormtroopers holding you down. Pershing begins to unravel the fabric wrapped around your arm. The cloth has, thus far, protected your veins and, more importantly, your soulmark, from the doctor. He starts from the top, quickly revealing the skin of your elbow.  

“Stop!” you beg. “Please don’t!” You’re not sure if he’s listening, if he takes some sort of mercy, or if he just doesn’t understand the real reason why you are pleading with him, but he unravels the fabric only enough that the second half of your mark is exposed. 

I can bring you in cold. 

From the moment you met the Mandalorian, your survival hasn’t been guaranteed. If the officer didn’t care if you were dead before, he sure doesn’t care if you survive what’s coming next.     

It quickly becomes apparent that Dr. Pershing doesn’t care about the mark, just the tests, which require him to collect your blood in order to conduct them. You continue to struggle, but it doesn’t stop the doctor from reaching his goal. 

The site where the needle enters your skin will surely form a mark because of your wriggling, another instance of your own foolish actions resulting in more pain than necessary. The doctor’s patience seems to finally reach its limit. 

“I told you this would be easier if you cooperate,” he states, setting the blood sample aside before grabbing something else from his table. “One way or another you will comply.”

You feel another prick, followed by a chilling numbness that spreads from the crease of your elbow out towards the tips of your fingers and towards your chest, the sensation rapidly extending to the rest of your body. Your mind numbs with it, growing foggy and distant. For just a moment longer you think about escape, but thoughts are growing more fleeting by the second. 

It becomes impossible to keep track of what is happening. Grogu is quiet beside you, the Doctor continues to flit around the two of you. Time passes but you're not sure if it’s mere moments or entire hours.

The lights go out, a quick flicker. Then another begins flashing above the door. 

People rush around you. The child lays still beside you, looking around but remaining quiet.

The room is empty. 

Time still passes.   

—☾—

Sounds travel to you slowly. They are clouded and warped, as if they are passing through thick fog on a cold night, ringing out from directions that shouldn’t possibly be able to produce them. In the distance, or what seems to be the distance but really could be anywhere around you, blaster fire screeches out. The high pitched whine barely registers in your sluggish mind. It isn’t in the room and that’s all that matters. 

There are calls for action, screams of pain and shouts of fear, more blaster fire. 

Beside you Grogu remains still, dark eyes blinking towards you, unafraid. You blink back at him, your own eyes struggling to open again once they close. Everything is just so heavy. 

The door slides open with a hiss, and for just a moment all of the noise sounds just a little closer. It’s all still clouded, but the commotion is not such a distant thing even if it still doesn’t seem real. A figure clad in silver armor steps through the door, reflecting the swirling red light of the lab in the same way every other surface around you flickers and shines, a warning. 

It’s your Mandalorian.

As soon as the door seals behind him he rushes over to you. You can’t help but stare at his new armor—this is what your bounty was worth. More shouting comes from beyond the door and your eyes roll back in its direction, taking a while to finally reach their destination. No one else enters the room.    

“Hey. Hey!” your Mandalorian says, lightly tapping your cheek until your eyes return to him. “What did they do to you?”

You can barely keep your eyes on him, your vision constantly being drawn to different things—like the child cooing next to you, or the way the flashing light reflects off the silver of the Mandalorian’s new beskar armor (real beskar, durable and rare). When you fail to respond, he begins to tug on the restraints closest to him.  

Through the cloud of your mind you are aware of just one thing. You need to hide your soulmark from him. He cannot see the words he said to you scrawled across your forearm in sharp Aurebesh. You twist your arm in your restraint, doing your best to try not to think about just how heavy your muscles feel, or how much your arm aches, as you shift your soulmark so it angles towards the table. You are grateful the hunter occupies himself with the other arm first, working quickly while trying not to hurt you.  

He rips away your restraints with ease, and a small part of you wonders, if you had your full strength, could you have gotten out on your own? But the thought doesn’t linger, your mind unable to focus on anything for longer than a moment.

The Mandalorian turns from you to The Child, setting him free as well. You take the opportunity to rewrap your arm, covering your soulmark once more. It’s a sloppy process, one that is difficult to complete with the weight of your muscles and ache of your wrists. Your fingers seem to have as much function as they would in the freezing cold, and keeping your mind on task proves to be difficult. You’re lucky the fabric used to cover your mark was only partially unwound. 

 The hunter retrieves Grogu, placing the child back into his protective pod, before helping you down off the table, tucking you into his side. Your legs collapse, unable to hold your weight, forcing the Mandalorian to bear the brunt of it, although he likely anticipated this outcome. You take a moment to get your legs back under you, just enough so that he doesn’t need to carry you. He pauses, giving you time to adjust, just as he always does.  

You can’t fully comprehend what is happening as he tugs you through the building. Flashes of blaster fire cross your vision, fading into darkness as they pass. The time between blasts is never long enough to let the shadows linger. Some are aimed at you and some directed towards the stormtroopers blocking your path, courtesy of your Mandalorian. 

He tries to keep you behind him, standing strong as you stumble along, shielding you and the child as much as he can with his body. 

A bright red bolt, burning hot, streaks past your face and nearly makes contact. You’re too out of it to react, eyes shifting in its direction long after the shot has passed, finding nothing but shadows behind you. The hunter turns towards you for just a second, taking any oncoming fire with the shining new beskar on his back. 

His leather clad hand cradles the side of your head for a mere moment, eyes burning through his visor into your own, hotter than the plasma that came so near to the place his hand now holds. His helmet flickers red as more shots go wide around the three of you. He nods, chin barely tilting down in acknowledgement of your continued safety. Then, certain that you are alive and well, he turns towards the oncoming fire once more.

You don’t know how much time you spent in the hands of the Imperials. It could have been hours or weeks, or something in between. Realistically very little time actually passed, no more than a day, but your perception of time is wrong, its passage still something you are unable to cling onto. You’re not even entirely sure how long the Mandalorian has been fighting to get you and The child out from where you've been held. 

All you know is that when the hunter finally gets the three of you outside of the building, back onto the volcanic soil and into the acrid air, it’s night. There are no stars here, not like on Arvala-7. Just the ashy sky, tumbling like a storm but always too dry for rain. Or maybe it’s just your own vision that’s swimming. Now, with the horizon farther in front of you than just a wall across the room, with alleys and streets stretching long before you and lined by rows of buildings, you can tell just how far off its axis your world has become.  

Everything is spinning, and you would be dragged along in the current if it weren’t for the Mandalorian’s grip on you. At some point during the firefight he passed the kid to you, freeing up his other hand. You can barely hold The Child’s weight, terrified that your grip will be too loose and you’ll lose him—or worse yet, too tight. 

The Mandalorian’s words echo in your mind the closer to the ship you get, though you’re not entirely sure where his voice ends and the voice inside your head begins. What did they do to you? 

You reach the main street, familiar to you despite the haze in your mind, but it looks much different than you remember. The stalls that had once been bustling are closed down for the night, the noisy crowd and plethora of smells long gone, but the street isn’t empty. There are others, bounty hunters, gathering around you on all sides. 

The world spins faster. Fire streams from the Mandalorian’s wrist, stretching out towards those around you before eventually sputtering and dying once more. The night seems a little darker after that, the blaze of the flame still burning your already weak eyesight even when it’s extinguished. 

You’re dragged and pushed, hidden and pulled—helpless in the face of your adversaries. All the while the Mandalorian stands before you, risking his own life to save yours and Grogu’s. He doesn’t know you’re his soulmate. He doesn’t know that you have been bound together since before your lives even began. This is a choice entirely his own. You can’t allow yourself to think about what that means right now, partially because of the circumstances you are still in, partially because you physically can’t concentrate on anything, and partially because you just don’t want to. 

Time blurs again as you push further towards the starship. The arch framing the entrance of the town looms before you, a silent witness to the events that you cannot comprehend. 

The world spins and then you see double, triple, quadruple of the Mandalorian. 

No, that’s not quite right. The world is spinning but that is not the cause for what you see. The Mandalorian to your left wears beskar painted a color too dark for you to distinguish by the light of blaster fire. Your Mandalorian stands before you, painted in the colors of the fight around him. 

You cannot concentrate on what they say when they exchange words, only picking up on a single repeated phrase:

“This is the way.”

Then, you are on the move again, stumbling forward, always forward, towards the arch above the town. Towards the ship. Towards your destiny.   

—☾— 

The starship is quiet.

You hadn’t realized just how loud the blasterfire had been, even through the fog in your brain, until the ramp finally raised behind you, sealing you off from the rest of the galaxy. The only sound comes from the Mandalorian’s vocoder, warping his heavy breathing into static. But he doesn’t take long to try and catch his breath. To do so would be to risk being caught once more. 

He lifts you up without warning, slings you over his shoulder like it’s nothing—to him it probably is nothing, even after fighting for his life. 

Somehow he manages to cradle Grogu in the same arm that he uses to keep you stable, a precarious balancing act. Then, impossibly, he manages to begin climbing the ladder to the cockpit. It’s ridiculous, you think, like a stack of farm animals standing on each other’s backs—a Mandalorian warrior, a not quite Jedi, and a 50 year old magic baby piled on the ladder. 

You can’t stop the laugh that rips through your throat, the tone wobbling as the silver pauldron presses into your stomach and releases during the climb. Grogu laughs too, unaware of what exactly you find funny, just happy to join in. When a particularly rough jolt up the ladder causes your laughter to turn into a wheeze, the Mandalorian pauses. He readjusts his grip on you and the kid, then keeps climbing.

First he sets the kid down, temporarily plopping Grogu in one of the passenger seats. Then he does the same to you. He straps you into your seat, not wanting to risk you being launched onto the floor or the control panel as he brings the starship off the planet. You just stare at him, at the glint of his new, unpainted beskar and the steely gaze of his visor. 

The hunter picks Grogu up again, placing him on a cuisse covered thigh and leaving a hand on the kid to act as a seatbelt. The ship starts with a purr, engines whirring as the Mandalorian presses a series of buttons and flips several switches. There’s some turbulence as the ship cuts through the atmosphere before leaving the ashen planet behind. In no time at all you are among the stars, body lurching as you make the jump into hyperspace. 

The Mandalorian’s armor catches the light of the universe as the stars blur all around you, the transparisteel surrounding you allowing for every inch of him to be bathed in the flickering glow of distant suns. It’s as if the galaxy has come alive on his armor, painting the beskar in ever-changing streaks of light and color. It shifts and dances even more as he moves from his spot at the helm. 

He returns the child to the second passenger seat, the hunter no longer needing to worry about the kid falling as he had feared during the ascent. Hyperspace offers protection, freedom. You can’t help but stare at the Mandalorian as he returns back to his seat, his own gaze angled towards the stars before him. Your mind is still hazy, but you are unable to focus on anything other than the resplendent man who sits before you.        

You’re so beautiful, you think. 

For a moment you fear you’ve said the words out loud. The Mandalorian’s shoulders grow stiff, back straightening slightly from where he sits in the pilot’s seat. But he doesn’t turn towards you, and he doesn’t speak. Surely if you had spoken he would have something to say as well, something along the usual lines of “I’ve been waiting for so long,” or even “Why didn’t you say anything?” It must just be the fog drifting through your brain, an unfounded paranoia. Your exit from the planet was rough, after all, both the firefight and the atmospheric turbulence. Some lingering tension is to be expected. 

It’s not until you’re well on your way through hyperspace, safe from any of your would be pursuers, that the Mandalorian says anything at all. His star stained helmet turns towards you, the black of his visor burning just as bright as it had when he cradled your head not so long ago. 

“My name’s Din,” he says. “Din Djarin.” 

NEXT PART

a/n: Next chapter we will get some of Din’s perspective!

taglist: @unmitigatedsuperiority @haven-is-happy @sorrow-has-a-place-here @unofficialavenger90

I don’t have a taglist form, but if you would like to be tagged on future chapters you can let me know in the tags/an ask/etc. this is a sideblog so I can’t respond to replies ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction

[ilhoonftw]

Fjfjfjfjfjfjf what!?!?

let me explain the gyuri boyfriend lore

they started dating in 2019, broke up in 2021

he is the grandson of guy who was once in charge of major construction business so the whole family is rich

they were known for being a noona - dongsaeng couple bc of 7 years age gap.... officially. but then after his car accident he was exposed for ageing himself up 5 years because 'young people aren't treated seriously in business' so in reality they have 12 years age gap 🫣

you'll be the judge. him at 21:

the news about his age came out loong after they broke up, when he announced he's gonna take part in elections and... gyuri subposted him on ig story

On January 12th 2022, KARA Park Gyu-ri posted six letters with an ambiguous meaning on her Instagram story. What she wrote was “loss of humanity”. Some people speculate that she might have written this after knowing about the recent issue related to her ex-boyfriend Song Ja-ho. However, this is just speculation, and there is a possibility that it was written as she wanted to express an opinion on social issues or her personal matter.

june 2021 ... dui

According to media outlets, Gyuri’s boyfriend Song Ja Ho, also known as the eldest grandson of Dongwon Construction founder Song Seung Hun, was caught drunk driving in Cheongdamdong. He reportedly fled the scene after hitting another vehicle in the parking lot. At the time, his blood-alcohol level was high enough for the cancellation of his license. Song is also accused of confinement as he allegedly confined a woman in the car even when she requested to be dropped off.

september 2021 official breakup confirmation (to be fair a lot of korean celeb couples not rarely release breakup announcements late, to the point you have actors talk about their ex on variety shows like they are still dating bc officially they are... all while their new partener co-star promoting the same drama on the same show is watching 🫣 jiyeon's ex did that. there's a whole i think happy together episode that's super awkward to watch... later he married the co-star but they are now divorced and co-parenting)

official reason was 'oh we are both having busy schedules, it's hard to meet'

they both deleted all photos of each other etc from ig right away. and they were a very public couple, they did charity stuff together and were pretty known

before i start the fraud part, gyuri did post on ig that she was unaware of what he was up to 🧐

If I did something wrong, my biggest mistake was not ending things earlier. As I stated in my official position, I am not involved, so I hope everyone writes based on the facts that have been revealed. — Park Gyuri

so basically 2 weeks ago he was released on bail after 7 months of detention

The Seoul Southern District Court’s Criminal Agreement 12th Division granted Song’s bail application on February 5, setting the stage for a trial that involves nearly 14,000 victims and a scam amounting to approximately ₩33.9 billion KRW (about $25.5 million USD).

Song Ja Ho, who ran a shared economy art company, was arrested last July. The charges against him were severe, involving violations of the Act on the Aggravated Punishment of Specific Economic Crimes. Song was accused of recruiting investors to put money into artworks that he had not secured and then manipulating the market price of a virtual asset known as PicaCoin. Alongside brothers Lee Hee Jin and Lee Hee Moon, Song is suspected of a massive embezzlement scheme that has left thousands defrauded.

The court has set stringent conditions for Song’s bail, including a 200 million won bail bond, a prohibition on leaving the country, the requirement to wear an electronic device for real-time location tracking, and restrictions on his residence. These measures reflect the court’s attempt to mitigate the risk of flight, given the gravity of the accusations. This case is particularly notable because of Song’s high-profile connections and ambitions. Prior to his arrest, Song declared his candidacy for the Seoul Seocho Gu National Assembly by-election, signaling his interest in entering the political arena.

[sagesilentfire]

Autistic Toffee, thoughts?

I mean I did make this image:

But yeah, he's super fucking autistic. Like me. Canonically: (warning: references to self-harm and also oversharing my weird experiences as a chronic autism-haver)

Gets social skills enough to be manipulative about it and understand what people will do, does not get them enough to not creep out people who already are looking for an excuse to dislike him.

Like every behavior the creators gave him to make him creepy and evil just read as autistic person trying to mask to me.

Cold and emotionless? Bro has a flat affect and it just clashes with the overemotional rest of the show.

Low empathy? Autistic, and he does have his own kind of empathy, he just, like a lot of autistic people, expresses it weirdly. And seriously, the idea that a) Normative, neurotypical empathy is the only sign of good moral character and b) that Toffee lacks any version of empathy in general because he doesn't seem to care when unjust rulers or bootlicking toadies get their due, is really ableist and can go die now.

Monotone voice? Flat affect, and probably over-correcting on controlling his tone of voice too. Remember he's in Socialization Mode every time we see him, or Dealing With Mewmans Mode, which is even more tense. I bet he can and will emote via voice when alone or with people he trusts. Heck, he does it in Meteora's Lesson, when he's with the other septarians.

Ulterior motives? When you're autistic, you know that everyone has ulterior motives you can't hope to understand, including other autistic people. It's fine.

I actually headcanon he's repressed a lot of his sensory issues. I have a few that are really annoying, but I don't have another option if I want to appear in polite society and have to force myself to live with them even though they make me want to vomit, so I can see him actively choosing to repress emotional reactions to things. 

He gets overwhelmed more often than you'd expect. People just don't notice, because his reaction is always to freeze up and go silent – a shutdown, the "flight and/or freeze" part of the autistic experience. This is from my own personal experience: when overwhelmed I'm either yelling and angry (around people I know and trust enough to get mad at without them hurting me) or hiding and silently self-harming (around people I don't know or trust). (When I get overwhelmed in a place I feel comfortable but don't know anyone there, I tend to get weird in public looking for someone to feel less bad with. We don't talk about those times.)

I think he was close to a shutdown during Mewnipendence Day when he saw that stupid play Star put on.

Definitely doing a shutdown after he couldn't rescue Star. Probably exiting the scene as fast as possible to go pull out some scales (fun, risk-free self-harm! warning: only septarians can do this. you will bleed if you don't have a healing factor. be safe and maybe don't self--harm it's bad for you), grit his teeth, and go find a way to rescue Star. And also send an army to take over Butterfly Castle while the wand was out. Star would be alive to learn to live with not being a princess. 

Doesn't *always* know what to say. Can convince people to do things easily, but has no idea how to help other people with their emotions. His autistic ass could never be a therapist.

And then there's SAMATFOE Toffee, who has some extra Problems:

Sílthéy and Toffee work together to ensure that Toffee is as immune as possible to emotional leverage. Do anything to them, especially when they're in Business Mode, and Toffee will just sigh, shake their head, and refuse to take the bait. They may have PTSD and Autism, but have you considered: they also have severe emotional repression!

However, when they do crack, it's really bad, and potentially really dangerous. They still freeze and flee, but due to... circumstances, they could be as much of a magical superweapon as the wand, but in a completely uncontrollable way. Unlike the Butterflys, they do not make a habit of flirting with destroying the world, so instead they shove down their feelings and get their ass to therapy. 

And then when their therapist advocates for expressing their emotions healthily, they go get a new therapist, probably a cognitive behavioral therapist or something (I'm JOKING, CBT works for people who are not me! It's a perfectly fine method of brain-helping, it's just my default punching bag. I'm more of an Internal Family Systems guy myself). 

Rasticore is a big help. He helps them express medium amounts of emotion healthily and without having a complete (magi-nuclear) meltdown. They help him with his own meltdowns, because everyone is autistic in my world except for Mina. Rasticore finds their calm grounding. 

#svtfoe #samatfoe #svtfoe rewrite #star vs the forces of evil #queue queue #my posts #about me #(because it's discussing my own symptoms) #toffee of septarsis #self harm #actuallyautistic

[usafphantom2]

Photographing the Soviet Union/Russian intentions in Cuba in October 1962

Buddy Leroy Brown flew the U-2 over Cuba. He met with President Kennedy, who shook his hand and said, “You take good photographs, Captain Brown!’Buddy later flew the SR 71 over Vietnam, North Korea, the border of China, and the border of Russia. He was my neighbor at Beale Air Force Base, California. I have the book he left for his family that has never been published. I have shared before about Colonel Brown’s incredible career In the SR-71; this time, I want to share about the U-2.

In August of 1957, as a first lieutenant, he started ground school in preparation for flying the U-2. This time, it was a little different. because he had to learn to use a sextant and how to take his own star shots for Celestial navigation. After a few flight checks, Brown is upgraded to combat-ready. Being combat-ready meant you were ready to go and fly any place in the world safely. Buddy said he said I would like to add something significant here “Being a Reconnaissance pilot, especially in the U-2 you do not have the pleasure or the advice or the council of other people to confer with when things go wrong.

If an emergency happened while you were over hostile territory it was you and only you who would be responsible for making the correct decision on what actions you would take. If your decision was wrong you could cause an international incident and embarrass our government or even cause your death.

” Many places that we flew the targeted government would like nothing better than to have shot you out of the sky.” We were always at WAR we were always at risk. As a U-2 pilot, you were held to a higher level of maturity, flying ability, and responsibility. We were much more worried about making a mistake in our decisions than we were about getting shot down.

NO ONE, And I mean no one wanted to be flown back to Omaha and briefed the Generals on what happened to justify their decision. Buddy goes on to say “In my opinion, reconnaissance is the single most important thing a military can provide. Not only to this country but to the free world. To provide the intentions of a hostile government is so important.”

A simple statement, but during the Cuban crisis, taking pictures of the Soviet missile sites in Cuba revealed the Soviet's intentions and possibly prevented a nuclear war.

More to come about the U-2 during the Cuban missile crisis. part 1

Written by Buddy Brown. Paraphrased by Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[thewhumpcaretaker]

The Broken Veil: Sneak Peak of Chapter 1

I will hopefully be releasing this fic (my first ever released) on AO3 soon, but I'm waiting for my account invite, so enjoy this preview in the meantime. This will be a highly indulgent 18+ fic focused on whump, hurt/comfort, and dacryphilia. TWs for this chapter: grief, crying, nightmare

Summary: John Wick has just agreed to kill Santino’s sister, Gianna, repaying the marker that gave him a life with Helen. However, Helen is trying to contact John from the afterlife, to show him that it is possible to stop the cycle of violence – not by forfeiting his own life, but by creating a fundamental shift in international systems and perhaps even the balance of good and evil in this world. But he doesn’t have to do it alone. She’s coming back.

Autumn evening in New York reels between gold and grey. A pale white sky bruises over with grey smog. Even the sky is beaten in New York, and yet even the sky sparkles. Golden streetlamps and distant red flashes hang as earthly stars between the glassy black voids of skyscraper walls. Airport whiskey sparkles amber in John Wick’s grasp, and his inward body buzzes faintly against its motionless exterior. Not drunk, not tipsy, not that it would matter. He knows himself drunk, drugged, tired, bleeding, the way the machine of his body handles in every state.

On the street below, a child in a woolen pea coat grabs onto his mother’s hand as they step up into the queue to check luggage. From the bar, John can’t see their faces, only the knit caps crowning both their heads. The boy has a backpack as his carry-on, and it’s too large for him. He shifts uncomfortably. At his movement, the mother fusses and leans down to adjust it. John’s eyes are fixed on her. They begin walking again and the child, excited by something on the far side of the taxi line, dashes towards oncoming traffic.  She pulls the little boy back from the street as a car swings recklessly close to the curb. John flinches away from the scene. It was hardly a close call – the kid had a long way to go before reaching the road, and even then, no doubt the car could have swerved at that speed. But it’s the sentiment of the thing, her tenderness…another swig of whiskey so he can’t finish the thought, and he turns from the window.

Drifting, playing the businessman without effort, scanning the crowd, uneasy with this moment of peace between wars. Stay in the moment anyway. Black wingtips clicking too crisply on grimy tile.  A glimpse of his reflection in the storefront of a candy shop, an impeccable mask. First class is boarding at JFK Gate 11, direct to Rome. No threats among the passengers – not that he expected any, but an enclosed box in the sky is a bad place to run into an enemy. It’s an opportunity he’s exploited himself in the past. A cordial smile to the flight attendant.

Now there is no more moment to stay in. Only the trans-Atlantic stretch of night, brutally alone.

He doesn’t want to be here. He knows how the machine of his body handles in every state, and right now he handles it by tricking it into doing what it’s ordered to do. Don’t think about doing anything, don’t think about killing. Just sit still, stare straight ahead, and don’t talk yourself out of this job. The job right now is to stare at the blinking light on the wing of the plane and not move, that’s all.  He remembers Gianna in their youth. She didn’t want to be a part of all this. She never had much in common with Santino. His ruthlessness, sure, but it was in service of something other than a desperate grasp for authority. She lived her life her way, pursued pleasure quietly between business, on her own terms. Don’t think about it. He thinks about how to do it instead. It’ll be right to give her a moment to face her death. Worth the risk. He owes her that much. Or is that the body rebelling again? Don’t think about it at all. Go to sleep.

He leans back and shuts himself down.

***

He’s making coffee for Helen. The bag crinkles as he scoops rich grounds into the machine. This feels so vivid, he can even smell it. He freezes. Feels vivid…this isn’t real. Lucid dream. They are always so fragile, they don’t have much time. Where is she?  Movement, out of the corner of his eye. Between the kitchen curtains, he can see her outside in the garden, her back to him. The way her hair falls above the cotton of a simple sundress, the way it just touches her shoulders…she is before him, he is ready to do anything to get to her. “Helen!”

She turns towards him and her face flares with a mirror of his own desperation. She points to the front door and disappears to the left, and he runs to meet her. There is a strange vastness to the entryway, he can’t reach the far end, but the door is already open. Only the screen is locked, and she’s trying the latch, silhouetted in light. He can feel his racing pulse all the way through his wrists now. She’s looking at him with so much urgency, his heart rattles almost sickeningly with each test of the latch and she’s saying over and over, “Rome, John, Rome! The moment is coming. Let me in.”

***

When he gasps awake, his lungs are already heavy with tears. There’s something darkly gorgeous about the disoriented longing still raging through him like an adrenaline shot and he lets it linger. Hope.

It takes him several minutes to even become irritated with that final twist. A play on words, a stupid, too-obvious, unoriginal trick of the unconscious, lacking the elegance she deserves. “Home, John, home. The moment is coming. Let me in.” If I ever can, I always will. Believe me. But I can’t. He crushes a sob against his rib cage with a deep inhale, swallows, and buries his face in his hands for a moment. Don’t even go there, don’t even imagine the impossible. Then he watches the sun make sheens of silver over the jagged European coastline, still basking in the memory of how she fought to reach him.

***

From the edge of the finite, a form withdraws, regathering strength but burning with the lingering sight of him.

#john wick #helen wick #john wick fanfic #john wick whumpee #assassin whumpee #emotional whump #angst #hurt/no comfort #whump fic #whump writing #dacryphilia #assassin whump #forced to kill trope #new to fanfic #new to ao3 #new fic

[ishomieokay]

Masks We Wear (Chapter 3)

Teen and Up. 2.4k, suicide attempt, canon-typical violence, ptsd, mental health issues, murder, description of a corpse, morally grey!john, unethical experimentation, child abuse, nudity, kidnapping, threats of violence. part 3/44. AO3 link. part 1, 2.

Right before turning eighteen, John Vogelbaum escapes the clutches of Vought. Always under the radar, he manages to live as a regular Joe for the next couple of years. Until one day, trouble comes knocking at his door in the shape of Grace Mallory. What does the CIA want to do with him, anyway?

Or, the one where Homelander is never born. A traumatized, socially-awkward John wanders through life trying to work out what to do with himself, and somehow becomes a member of The Boys.

Taglist: @discowizard88 Let me know if you want to be tagged!

He’d been performing a flight test, when the idea occurred to him. As he reached the stratosphere for the very first time, wind blowing hollowly around him and with the taste of ozone tingling on his lips, John thought wildly, what if I die? When the answer came to him, he found himself flying forward, way past the point required to finish the test. Although it was barely noon, he could see the sky around him turn increasingly darker.

Up ahead there were stars flickering, and even further, John got a glimpse of the sun. He wondered whether he’d actually made it so far up, or if he could attribute the vision to lack of oxygen. Oddly enough, the possibility of his untimely demise didn’t concern him much. Instead, he was picturing the research group down below, running around like headless chickens as they tried to figure out why their subject’s ascent wouldn’t stop the way they planned. 

See what you’ve done? This is what you’ve forced me into, John thought, vindictively, and he could see Jonah Vogelbaum in his mind’s eye, screaming and pulling violently at the little hair he had left once he found out that the results of his eighteen-year experiment had literally been flown into the sun. And wasn’t it sad that he valued his own life so little that he was willing to end it just to spite his creator?

John kept moving forward, undeterred. His lungs were burning. The air was compressing around him, increasingly heating up the higher he got. His protective gear, a skin tight suit made out of spandex and leather, was beginning to disintegrate. His whole body itched. He risked a glimpse down and halted to a stop almost without realizing. 

Everything was quiet. Earth receded below him as he drifted in orbit, and John felt nauseous and faint. He’d gone too long without air. As resilient as he was, he still needed to breathe in order to survive. The rush of adrenaline that allowed him to power through this journey that would have annihilated any other creature was fading, taking its toll now that he’d allowed himself a rest. Quite some time had passed before John realized that he was falling. 

It all came to him in fragments. He wasn’t falling anymore. There was a deep itch spreading throughout his body. He felt impossibly cold, and yet the slightest movement left a scorching feeling on his skin. Something moist and rough dragged across his cheek, finally pulling him out of his slumber. John opened his eyes and found a German Shepard staring intently at him. It had just licked him. 

“Get off me, you dirty mutt!” He shouted, swatting at it as he sat up. The dog yelped and backed away, lowering its ears. John rubbed violently at the foul smelling drool covering his face. He looked around, and realized he’d landed on someone’s barn. They would probably try to get a few bucks out of him, what with the man shaped-hole he’d left on the ceiling. 

Uh, not if I’m gone before they get here, John thought stubbornly. It’s not like he brought a wallet along for the launch. He didn’t own one, as a matter of fact. His legs were still wobbly, though, and as soon as he tried to stand he fell face first into a pile of hay. John groaned. His vision was blurry, and there was an incessant buzzing in his head. He felt raw and sort of deflated, like a football that had seen one too many world series. 

Right, so, not dead, he thought with a hint of derision, now what?

He imagined Vogelbaum would be unspeakably pleased if he ever found out that one of his subjects had managed to survive free falling to Earth from outer space. Vought's billion-dollar investment in his pet project had certainly paid off. John was so utterly indestructible, he couldn't even kill himself if he tried. 

There were indeed repercussions to his ludicrous attempt, though. The pain he was experiencing was so overwhelming it was hard to focus. He wondered briefly if he had suffered internal damage, but a quick glimpse at his body through his X-Ray vision was enough to rule out that possibility. There would probably be bruising, though. At last, he stood up. Regaining the ability to walk was a relief, although faint and short-lived. As soon as John crossed the doors of the barn, he was greeted by the panic-stricken face of an old man and the end of a shotgun barrel. 

“I don’t want no trouble, okay?” He said in a thin voice. “Not with a Supe. Just leave now and I promise not to call the sheriff.”  

John blinked, tilting his head to the side. The words took a minute to register due to the buzzing in his head. Once they did, he realized that he was the cause of the old man’s fear, although he didn’t think he’d done anything to warrant such a reaction. Besides existing in his general vicinity, that is. Wherever he was, he guessed coming across a Supe was something of a novelty, and perhaps not the type to be glad for. 

“Easy, partner. What’s got you so jumpy, uh?” John said, offering the stranger what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s all fine, I’m not here to cause any harm.”

He took a step closer, and the man quickly took one back. He wasn’t staring at his face but down. John followed his gaze and grimaced. He wasn’t exactly looking his best at the moment. Or perhaps he was. The man was right to fear him, in any case. No upstanding citizen would trespass into someone’s private property while shamelessly sporting their birthday suit. 

“Right, I’m naked. I guess that’s got you feeling a bit spooked,” John said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I swear there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this, though. So, how about you put that gun down?”

He moved forward again, and that was his mistake. The man went trigger happy on him, and fired. He wasn’t hurt, of course. It had taken a series of operations and a rather uncomfortable amount of tinkling with his DNA, but now John could say that he was effectively bulletproof. The doctors had tested that quite diligently. As it always did back then, the bullet ricocheted off him. Then it went through the old man’s skull, instantly killing him. He fell to the ground, so fast and abruptly that it took John a moment to understand what had happened.

He stood there for quite a long time, withstanding the bite of the scorching sun on his exposed flesh. The German Shepard had returned and was barking furiously at him for the audacity of killing its owner. John paid it no mind, knowing that it couldn't hurt him. Points had been made that there was nothing on Earth that could. Blood was steadily spreading through the ground. He realized then that the dead man had not been old, as he’d first assumed, but rather young and worn out by life. He chuckled.

Once he started, John didn’t stop laughing until the pain became unbearable, forcing him to his knees. There were tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. No matter what he tried or where he went, it seemed he could never truly escape death - that is, unless it was his own. 

Once he was able to compose himself, John went out onto the highway and hijacked a car.

“Oh, would you calm down?” He said, giving the anxious-looking driver a stern look. “We’ve been over this, Kevin. I’m not gonna hurt you. Just take me across the state line and you’ll be fine . And for fuck’s sake, roll the goddamn windows down! This adrenaline stench’s killing me.”

There was likely nothing to fear in this sleepy small town in the middle of Louisiana. Had he been any less of a paranoid, John would have seen no issue in staying a day or two to figure out his next move. He hadn’t been in the vicinity for more than two hours and he’d already left a body behind, though. It was an accident, of course, and perhaps he was being superstitious, but it did seem like something he ought to pay heed to. There was an itch in him compelling him to move forward, to put as much distance as he could between his handlers and himself. He didn’t want to risk Vought tracking him down if they somehow figured out that he wasn’t dead. 

“Right,” Kevin replied, licking sweat off his upper lip, “of course.”

John rolled his eyes but said nothing. His whole body hurt, and he could feel a migraine forming. Many times as he made his way through the cornfields a rush to the head left him feeling as though he were about to faint again, but he never did. Even if flying hadn’t meant further exposing himself to detection, he wasn’t sure he could do it in the state he was in. He spared a glance to the unlucky fellow that had been forced to serve as his personal chauffeur, and noticed that his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Perhaps he’d gone too far with the whole threats and blackmail business. 

“So, you don’t happen to have any clothes I could borrow, uh?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest to suppress the need to cover himself. You would think that after walking approximately three miles under the scorching mid-afternoon sun he would become accustomed to being naked out in the open. As it was, John wasn’t even used to existing outside of a lab, let alone being as exposed as he was. It was a sensory nightmare, if he’d ever had one.

“There’s a bag on the back seat,” Kevin said, looking visibly relieved. It was probably getting weird for him too. John pulled a shirt and some pants out of the bag and was quick to put them on. The fit was abysmal but at the very least it was covering. He considered Kevin for a moment, and wondered if there were any questions he ought to ask before they parted ways. It wouldn’t be long for now, if the street signs were to be believed.

John still wasn’t sure what he would do, once they made it to Arkansas. He felt out of sorts and unable to formulate a plan. It wasn’t clear to him whether his exhaustion could be attributed to the fall, the lack of oxygen or a prolonged exposure to radiation. Perhaps it was the combination of it all. He just knew that he wanted to make it out of the countryside, away from the unbearable heat and the sharp, overwhelming smells of farming and pollen. 

It doesn’t matter where you go, tiger. They’re gonna find ya, a voice murmured in the back of his mind, as he stared listlessly at the passing scenery. You seriously think you can survive without them? You ungrateful, spoiled brat! You're never gonna make it on your own. May as well go crawling back to daddy Jonah and beg for his forgiveness, while you still can. 

Fuck off, John replied with a scowl, I don’t need them. I don’t need anyone, and especially not you. Leave me the fuck alone!

You just couldn’t handle it, could you? Homelander said viciously. Don’t know why I’m surprised, you’ve always been so weak. So fucking fragile. Vogelbaum didn’t give ya enough head pats, is that it? Is that why you’re running away with your tail between your legs, like the fucking pussy you are?!

No. John shook his head. His lower lip trembled, and he bit into it to try and hide it. No, that’s not it. Just- shut the fuck up! 

You would’ve made a lousy hero, anyway. Perhaps it’s for the best. From here forward, we’re on our own, partner. That’s how it’s always been, isn’t it? Who would want you, but me? Not the doctors nor the tutors. Certainly not Vogelbaum. I mean, not even death will have you. How pathetic is that?

John could feel tears gathering at the corner of his eyes, and quickly blinked them away. It was the pollen, he told himself - the sharp brightness of the outside world that he'd so rarely witnessed in the past. To say it was overwhelming was an understatement. The never ending turning of the Earth, the people moving about, the smell of livestock, the cars passing by. He could feel his heart racing, and suddenly he felt nauseous and unbalanced, as if he were about to fall.

Are you seriously having a panic attack right now? For fuck’s sake, John. I thought we were past this, Homelander said, and John swore he could hear him laughing. If his handlers did manage to track him down, they would drag him back to the lab by the scruff of his neck. They would put him in the Bad Room again. He needed to blend in. That meant concealing his powers and performing normalcy - speaking, living and dressing like a faceless figure in the crowd. He could probably pull it off. His tutors always said that he had a talent for acting.

You can’t escape your fate, John, said that soft, brutally mocking voice. You were created with a purpose, and you’re going to fulfill it whether you want it or not. 

Belatedly, John realized that he was muttering to himself, anxiously bouncing his leg up and down. Kevin was staring at him warily. He clamped his mouth shut, forcing his body to go completely still. 

I’m the strongest man in the whole wide world, John thought, rubbing his eyes, I can do whatever the fuck I want. 

#homelander fanfiction #the boys fanfic #homelander #antony starr #homelander fic #homelander the boys #my babygirl #fine i'll create my own content #lena writes #john escapes the lab and joins the boys au

[celestialnxva]

In Another Life

Stephen Strange x Reader: Chapter 4

( Strange Supreme from What If…? )

series masterlist. | part 1.

Summary: When all is said and done, you couldn’t help but feel pity for the man who lost it all. Despite the risks, what shall you do with the growing desire to stay in a universe you don’t belong in?

Warnings: Spoilers for MoM and What if…? 18+ themes. Angst, Cheating (?), Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Gore, Manipulation, Imprisonment, Non-con.

Strong hands shook you from your deep slumber. Groggily, you slowly opened your eyes to see who was waking you up this time. When you saw Stephen’s face, you immediately remembered what happened before you blacked out and you let out a scream, scooting away from the intruder as much as possible.  “N-No, get away from me!” you cried out. You tried to run, but you soon felt the painful tug of the metallic chains against your skin. You looked around and not only realized that you were in a glass cell, but your wrists were chained down, special chains decorated in runes so you could not use any of your magic. You let out a sob and struggled against its hold on you, trying to get out. “Let me go! Please, let me go. I don’t wanna be here—”

“(Y/n), it’s me!” the other man shouted and gripped your arm so you could look at him. When you finally looked up, you started to sob but for a completely new reason: the man before you was your Stephen. Your husband. He came back.

When he heard your sobs, he immediately rushed to help you out, golden sparks flying around you as he mimicked a chain that could cut you free. You stayed obediently still and looked down at your position on the ground. Only then did you notice the chains on your ankles too. What the hell did the other Stephen do to you while you were unconscious? You started to hyperventilate while you thought about all the horrifying scenarios the other Stephen could have done to you. It took your husband shaking you to go back to reality and look at him in confusion. “What the hell are you doing here?” He didn’t answer you for a while, moving instead to hug you tight. “God, I thought he killed you,” he murmured into your ear, finally letting himself release some tension in his body. He finally found you and you were finally going home. 

After he hugged you, he helped you stand up and gently put your sling ring onto your fingers as spoke. “We don’t have much time. I managed to put him in a pocket of the mirror dimension to keep him busy for a while. America will be meeting us upstairs.” Ah. So you were in the basement this entire time. At this point, there was no chance of the other Stephen ever redeeming himself in your eyes. This was traumatizing, to say the least, and you’ll never let him gain control over you again. 

With newfound resilience, you persevered through the large basement with your husband supporting your body as much as he could, You used some of your magic to help you both teleport to the main room, not wanting to waste energy walking up the long flight of stairs. He let out a sigh of relief and flashed you a small smile before he rushed you over to where America stood in front of the star-shaped hole.  “It’s so good to see you, (y/n),” she said quickly before hugging you close. You could tell from her behavior that she had been worried sick, just as much as Stephen was when he tried to find ways to get back to you. You were glad they came. It was dangerous, but they loved you too much to let you stay here forever. You were lucky that you could consider them like family to you. Stephen sighed and tugged on your arm. “As much as I would like to have a reunion party right now, we need to get back to our dimension before--!”

Stephen suddenly let out a piercing scream before blood spluttered from his mouth. America cried out in fear as she made her way towards his collapsing form. She took one scan of his body before noticing the giant spear piercing through his side. Her eyes widened at the horrific sight. “He’s awake, (y/n)! We need to get out of here!” You nodded and put up a shield of defense, not wanting any more onslaughts that could prevent you all from going back. You both dragged Stephen towards the portal, only to be met with the terrifying variant walking from the portal and towards you both. Screaming, America dragged Stephen’s body back while you lowered your shields and instead wrapped the shield around all of you. You all retreated back while the intimidating creature slowly made his way towards you. 

“I see you’ve woken up from your sleep, my rose,” he cooed out to you, but it sounded like multiple creatures were speaking through him. The horns on his head and the tentacles surrounding his body were much larger and more present than during your own confrontation with him. You needed to be on full guard now. You don’t think he will spare you at all this time. Taking out your golden sword with your sling ring, you stood your ground once more. Though your sword was slightly fazing in and out due to your weakened state, you did not let it deter you from your one mission: keep your family safe. When Strange saw your sword faze in and out, he chuckled, giving you a patronizing look. “Darling, you know it’s futile to fight against me, right? You’re too weak.” He paused and then calmed himself down, the creatures moving back inside him when he morphed into the man that imitated the look of your husband. Not your lover, an imposter. You narrowed your eyes as he extended out his hand in compassion. 

“Darling, I... really don’t want to kill you. Please, come back to bed?” Even despite everything, you were still curious as to whether or not he would actually hurt you enough to kill you. He almost did it before when you tried to rebel against his wishes. He continued. “Please, I cannot live without you. He,” he emphasized and pointed to your injured husband. “cannot give you the love and adoration that you want; that you deserve.” You knew what he was doing. He was trying to calm you down while appealing to your love of romance. He knew that your husband would never give you undying professions of love, never dedicate poems and music to you, never make you feel like the queen of the universe. You eyes wavered, only paying attention to him while keeping your shield strong. His gaze softened when he closed his hand slowly and put it to his side. It was as if he wanted you to feel pity for him. How ridiculous. 

But your contempt for him didn’t last long when he spoke again. “I can give you everything I have within me. I can give up my desire to destroy other universes and give up my lust for power if it means having you by my side again.” He kneeled down, holding his hand out once more to you. This time, you almost had your walls down. “I would humble myself before you if I could see the look of love you have blessed me with during our short time together.” His words were told much for you to process all at once. You couldn’t say anything to deny his words because the worst part about his speech was that you could confirm all of it to be true. He worshipped your body and made you feel like a queen when he knew you held love for him too. You could make out the tears in his eyes as he approached your strong stance. He lowered his gaze down to the floor. “Please, (y/n). I don’t want to be alone again,” he whispered pathetically to you before he silenced himself so you could make a decision. 

This was tempting. Not because you wanted the love Strange was offering, but because it was your chance to prevent this Strange from destroying the multiverse. You could protect your husband and America from the destruction this variant was capable of causing. You couldn’t let your husband die again. 

You looked back at your family behind you. America was struggling to control her powers enough to open another portal while hyperventilating in fear of the variant’s violence. She needed to get her new family home and safe. You knew she couldn’t forgive herself for not being able to save you and your husband. Your husband was fighting to stay awake, one hand strengthening your shield despite his severe injury. Your eyes watered at the sight and you knew you had to make the most difficult choice in your entire life. You lowered your shields slowly as you walked over to where the variant was kneeling. His body was shaking from the tears he’s shed for your clear unreciprocated love, but he had to try. He had to beg you to stay. If you stayed, then maybe he could help you learn to love him for who he is. He was your Stephen. You only needed to give him another chance. 

When you finally reached him, you looked down at him, your own tears falling gracefully down your cheeks. Even in pain, you looked as beautiful as the day he first met you. His eyes were filled with hope as you hesitated to speak. “If I agree to stay with you here forever, do you promise that you’ll keep the multiverse safe?” you asked tiredly, your emotions leaving your body in defeat. You could hear America scream at you to get back and come home with her, but you didn’t care. This was the only way for you to keep your husband safe. Your Stephen... you only hope he could forgive you for your sacrifice. 

Meanwhile, the variant in front of you gasped in happiness, immediately reaching out to take your hand and kiss the fingertips. “I promise with my entire life, (y/n). I only want you. I don’t want anything else in the entire world except you,” he spoke earnestly, looking at you with that sickening adoration that you’ve grown to hate. Despite your disgust, you leaned down to his level and cupped his cheek. His gaze was solely on you and only you now. Knowing what to do, you nodded, sealing your fate. At your agreement, he let out a sob, resting your foreheads together. Finally, he had you. 

The celebration was short lived as you saw this Stephen gasp, his eyes wide in shock. You felt something drip onto your pants and you looked down to see the sight of blood. You screamed, immediately pulling away from his embrace. You were just in time to catch the look of shock and defeat on his face before collapsing on the floor. Blood seeped out from underneath him while you finally saw what killed him. Your Stephen stood behind him, the spear that was once in his side now stabbed straight through the variant’s heart. He looked at the dead body with disgust and satisfaction before he looked at you with love in his eyes. He soon collapsed, holding onto his bloody wound. You shot up and collected him in your arms, tears in your eyes. When you finally looked into his eyes, it was only filled with love. It wasn’t intense, like Strange’s, but gentle. The soothing swirls in his eyes, though dull, helped you calm down again. The faint smile on his face told you that he still loved you and respected your actions. He knew you were trying to protect him. So much thoughts and emotions were conveyed between the two of you when looking at each other. This was more beautiful than any poem and song could describe. “You saved me,” you whimpered out, tears now falling onto his cheek. He chuckled brokenly, reaching up to caress the side of your head. “I love you, you idiot. I wasn’t going to let him take my partner away from me,” he choked out lightheartedly. 

He coughed up more blood and you panicked. You looked back at America who was opening up the portal successfully. You sighed in gratitude as you helped your husband get up. As you went through the portal, you looked back at the dead body in the middle of the messy room. At the end of the day, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him anyways. He was and will always be a lonely man. Noticing where your gaze led, Stephen rubbed your side and kissed your forehead. “He did it to himself, (y/n).” You processed his words and nodded, helping him through the portal entirely. When the portal closed, you made peace in your mind with what you’ve experienced and now focused on getting Stephen to a hospital bed. Thankfully, America teleported you all to a hospital. 

Letting the doctors take him away from you, you held onto America beside you, only hoping that he would be okay. 

-------

Knocking on the wooden door, you opened it to find your husband sitting up on the bed. He was shirtless, the bandages on his body serving as the only reminder to you that all you experienced wasn’t a dream. Two weeks ago, you finally made it back to your reality, but in the time that you were gone, the Sanctum became a mess. Papers strewn everywhere and books misplaced, you called up Wong and asked him what had happened. He explained to you that there was a fight and that the Sanctum’s contents were all safe. The Sanctum was something to handle later. When you set Stephen down on the bed after he was discharged a week ago, you finally realized how little sleep you had gotten in the past few weeks. The next few days were spent recovering with sleep. These events led you to the present with you now relishing the safety within the Sanctum’s walls and the love of your life alive and recovering. 

“Hellooooo, earth to (y/n),” Stephen said teasingly. The familiar phrase snapped you out of your thoughts and made you panic, your step faltering backwards against the door. He blinked and tilted his head, silently wondering what had caused you to react to an innocent phrase like that. You just remembered the variant Strange saying that to you before, which caused you to panic. Remembering where you are now caused you to relax a little and shake your head as you made your way towards the bed. “Sorry, just got a flashback to when he said the exact same thing.” He saddened at your words and took the tray of food into his hands. He made a mental note to ask you to go to therapy for your trauma from the other Stephen, but right now, he needed to comfort you and remind you that he wasn’t like the other man that tried to hurt you. 

“Hey. Eat breakfast with me?” he offered, tugging your hand down gently. You smiled at him and settled into the bed with him. You fed some food to him with his teasing insistence and talked with him about funny stories with Wong and the Avengers. You couldn’t tell Stephen yet about his variant’s voice talking to you inside your head, but you knew that he would always be there for you no matter what. You both laughed with each other as he kissed your hand lovingly while the birds chirped in the distance. Sirens blared in the distance and you could hear the hotdog vendor across the street arguing with a customer. You smiled to yourself. 

You were home. 

A/n: Here you go, guys! Last chapter! I hope you all enjoyed this series and I cannot wait for you all to read my next series “Bridgerton x Marvel: The Race Against Time.”

#dr strange #dr strange x reader #fanfic #marvel #multiverse of madness #stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #what if #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #doctor stephen strange #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange #strange supreme x reader #strange supreme #sinister strange x reader #sinister strange

[philosopher-blog]

لا تضع روحك في مكان لا يناسب أحلامك .....

تخيل روحك كطائر، يريد أن يحلق عالياً في السماء، ويستكشف آفاقاً جديدة، ويشعر بحرية الريح تحت جناحيه. الآن تصور هذا الطائر وهو يركن في قفص ضيق، حيث بالكاد يستطيع التحرك، ناهيك عن فرد جناحيه والطيران. هذا ما يحدث عندما تحصر روحك في مساحة لا تتوافق مع أحلامك وتطلعاتك.

أحلامنا مثل النجوم اللامع موجهة لنا لتقودنا نحو هدفنا الحقيقي وتحقيقه. إنها همسات أرواحنا، التي تحثنا على التحرر من القيود والوصول إلى الأماني التي كان من المفترض أن نحققها. عندما نتجاهل تلك الأحلام ونستقر على حياة لا تتوافق مع رغباتنا العميقة، فإننا نخاطر بخنق أرواحنا وخنق إمكاناتنا.

من السهل الوقوع في فخ الرضا عن النفس، والقبول بحياة مريحة ولكن غير مرضية. قد نقنع أنفسنا بأن أحلامنا بعيدة المنال أو غير واقعية، وأنه من الآمن البقاء ضمن حدود ما هو معروف ويمكن التنبؤ به. ولكن من خلال القيام بذلك، فإننا نحرم أنفسنا من فرصة تجربة الحياة الكاملة، وتقبل التحديات والنمو، وأن نصبح أفضل نسخة من أنفسنا.

عندما تجد نفسك في مكان لا يتناسب مع أحلامك، حيث تشعر روحك بالضيق والتقييد، فقد حان الوقت لإعادة تقييم وضعك. خذ لحظة لإعادة التكيف مع أحلامك، لتتذكر المشاعر والتطلعات التي تشعل النار بداخلك. استمع إلى همسات روحك ودعها ترشدك نحو الطريق الذي يناسبك حقًا.

لا تخف من القيام بتغييرات، والخروج من منطقة الراحة الخاصة بك، ومتابعة ما يشعل روحك. تذكر أن لديك القدرة على خلق الحياة التي تريدها، واقتطاع مساحة حيث يمكن لأحلامك أن تطير وتزدهر بها روحك. ثق في بوصلتك الداخلية وكن مؤمنًا بالرحلة المقبلة.

لذا، لا تضع روحك في مكان لا يناسب أحلامك. بدلًا من ذلك، امنح نفسك الإذن بالحلم بجرأة، ومتابعة عواطفك بكل إخلاص، واحتضان حياة تتناغم تمامًا مع ذاتك الحقيقية. دع روحك تحلق عاليًا، وشاهد العالم يكشف أمامك إمكانيات وفرصًا جديدة.

Don't park your soul in a space where your dreams don't fit.

Imagine your soul as a bird, meant to soar high in the sky, explore new horizons, and feel the freedom of the wind beneath its wings. Now picture parking that bird in a cramped cage, where it can barely move, let alone spread its wings and fly. That's what happens when you confine your soul in a space that doesn't align with your dreams and aspirations.

Our dreams are like guiding stars that lead us towards our true purpose and fulfillment. They are the whispers of our soul, urging us to break free from limitations and reach for the heights we were meant to achieve. When we disregard those dreams and settle for a life that doesn't resonate with our deepest desires, we risk suffocating our soul and stifling our potential.

It's easy to fall into the trap of complacency, to settle for a life that is comfortable but unfulfilling. We may convince ourselves that our dreams are too far-fetched or unrealistic, that it's safer to stay within the confines of what is known and predictable. But by doing so, we deny ourselves the chance to experience the fullness of life, to embrace challenges and growth, and to become the best version of ourselves.

When you find yourself in a place where your dreams don't fit, where your soul feels cramped and constrained, it's time to reassess your situation. Take a moment to realign with your dreams, to remember the passions and aspirations that light a fire within you. Listen to the whispers of your soul and let them guide you towards a path that is truly yours.

Don't be afraid to make changes, to step out of your comfort zone, and to pursue what sets your soul on fire. Remember that you have the power to create the life you desire, to carve out a space where your dreams can take flight and your soul can thrive. Trust in your inner compass and have faith in the journey ahead.

So, don't park your soul in a space where your dreams don't fit. Instead, give yourself permission to dream boldly, to pursue your passions wholeheartedly, and to embrace a life that is in perfect harmony with your true self. Let your soul soar, and watch as the world unfolds new possibilities and opportunities before you.

[reveseke]

Spontaneous crossover / au time with Spiderverse and Criminal minds about Spiderverse! Reader within Criminal minds ( feat a arcade themed stim board bc i wanted to make one <- TW bright colors & lights + flickering { Glowcore popping balloons } )

(( CW Sooo ~ Rather dark themes, mentions of being a lab rat, kidnapping, possible paranoia at some point even | mention of Jumping spiders ( due to the powers ) | You have been warned, approach at your own risk :3 ( probably didn't get all of it down these were the ones I thought off, if you find more please lemme know! )

Au/tropes — Crossover of Spiderverse × Criminal minds | Sci-fi | scientific super powers | found family (mention/hinted) | Angst(hinted)

Random – concept headcanons | Arcade theme in play

About reader — Masc! Aligned; trans, nonbinary & masc ambiguous friendly ! | He him pronouns used | R instead of y/n or m/n used | teen! reader around sixteen fifteen y.o ? | Hinted to have small amounts of background & a dog! | Tech savvy reader !!

Disclaimer – English is my second language and I'm Dyslexic, grammatical errors are more than going to happen. this is barely proof-read completely, it's just breezed through that's it lol.

DNI — Fudanashis/Fujodashis, fem-aligned, basic DNI criteria(ableists, racists, sexists etc), Maps(+other related terms), Pedophiles, transmeds, TERFS ( + other related terms ), antisemetics, proship/profic, kink/nude/18+ blogs, sh/pro-ana/Ed blogs, blank blogs

Gif ID. Three gifs in upper row; a gif showcasing the 90s arcade mat designs with varying colors and shapes, second gif of a bundle of cables with small flashing RGB lights in between the cables, third gif of cyan and magenta glitters being stirred.

three more gifts row down; a gif of glow in the dark stars if varying colors being thrown down, a gif of two balloons filled with green and orange glowing liquid Uber a black light being driven over by a car popping them, third gif of three arcade machines against a wall flashing lights and active. Gif ID end

Credits — 👑|👑|👑 — 👑|👑|👑

What if spiderman! Au, masc!reader being something similiar to Spider-Man, a teenager and gets to work for the government when he's caught. Of course suffering through the court etc -> as in assault charges that can be linked to him even if it was against bad guys. Y'know lol .

Also bad guys just being criminals most of the time. And actually being normal people. Ofc there can be an alternative of serums etc etc.

If they were serumed up then there would be more chaos tbh.

But I'm still thinking wether or not it be the known sci-fi type with differences to the actual Spider-Man powers. Also bc i personally love jumping spiders, i think the powers will circle them specifically. ( So the suit design descriped wouldn't be the one Spider-Man actually wears bc originality if i ever continue on this concept lol )

R just swinging around and avoiding cops and agents as he starts to realise he's being chased / targeted.

His powers are seen as something pricy and unique, one could say people may be interested in seeing him fighting in a rink.

I think he would be a lab rat if caught by anybody who has the proper or improper equipment and skill(s) to be used.

I think the first time he'd use his powers would be after being attacked or scared and having the fight or flight response activated.

Most likely panicked and absolutely bat shit scared.

At some point may have had something to do with a murder or being an accessory in it. Koff Koff. Or maybe just do something with a murder of somebody in general bc of not knowing how much power he actually has.

:0 Vigilante good guy misinterpreted to be a bad guy bc his powers went haywire.

Oh yeah heh mentioned jumping spiders above, think about ultraviolet vision as something R would be able to access.

Also bc of 15-16 y.o R he would be in highschool during these times. ( Think about it being the present)

Getting a dog for his own protection, company and to combat the possible paranoia the shit underneath may have caused and is spoke of.

Yes I'm kinda just portraying this origin of Reader to be close to the original spider-man origin. Thinking of ways he could get his powers; i don't like the origin how that ended, bc angst i need angst and the Reader being a full lab rat by being kidnapped for tests with other people. Either they survived it or died during the testing. ( I think he could have been a bit younger when this happened. )

Also kinda wanna include Survivalist intuition(link) to the mix in a way, not only for thee possible danger intuition that will be part of the myriad of things the testing may have given him.

Having a friend group that somewhat knows what's up with the reader and tries to help him as much as they can. Which includes possible not talking to the cops or FBI if being questioned at one point bc the fbi found possible lead to the reader after seeing him appearing around newspapers and the streets of Virginia mainly.

If the reader does have parents they are spoken with aswell, if he does not then he's basically taken in as the shared child of the BAU team in time lmao .

If he does not have parents as in they aren't really there in his life that much.

Finding out he's a student, a minor in general surprises them a little, especially after connecting dots and finding out what may or may not have happened to him when he was younger.

After being caught he's held accountable for the crimes he's committed. And doesn't exactly deny them either. But he's also offered a possible job bc they could actually use someone like him in the forces due to his powers.

Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait what if more sci-fi type of shit is going on and the technology is a little more advanced from the 2000- 2018 (i think?) Technology evolution. And the reader was tech savvy and build his own equipment and instead of actual webs or chemically composed webs it's just wires?? Like grappling hooks but small and study as fuck ¿¿ Lmao

So like in a way he's not smart in chemistry way, but in technology & physics way if you will lol ??

And if the reader liked a more colorful arcade-ish designs ?? :0

The fanfiction would be a crossover obviously, but idk if there would a specific world to be put in. Bc spider verse! Reader sounds really cool. Especially arcade-aesthetic style/ tech savvy(kinda like Peni from Spiderverse, but not completely y'know?) version would be really cool.

AAAAAAAAAAA— just thinking about a case where spiderverse! Reader is already part of BAU and is sent to go undercover in a school campus bc there's a killer and nobody knows anything and he's the only one that could easily without raising any suspicious'

Also how he's secretive about being hurt and sucking it up to bandages himself home bc that's basically what he's been doing. The amount of scars and wounds he has and how's he not dead yet ?? The teams shook lol .

Oh also JJ's basic maternal instinct; he's basically if put to work with the BAU department under Hotch as a trainee also under her, Emily and Penny's gaze. Also Hotch and Derek lol imo would look after the reader a little if they're assigned with him.

Also Derek will absolutely if the Reader is energetic and speaks alot pretend to be annoyed before actually being annoyed bc he can't catch a break off of you ( in this situation he'd voice it out politely. Instead of ignoring R completely lol ) . Also teasing how much of a motor mouth R can be.

With Reid he can absolutely talk about the most random things that come to mind and if he doesn't know what R's on about R can actually educate him on it !

Also i actually think especially if the Reader is neurodivergent Reid would absolutely be the best person to talk about hyperfixations and specials interests. In other seriousness you could pour your interests and likes to him and you'd get a good conversation out of it :³ .

Also mama hen Rossi content. You cannot convince me this man does not hen over the team in general. I have seen too many headcanons and hints off of this, + the show let's it up as well in some episodes and I am headcanoning it myself lmao. He's really caring tbh.

Can you already tell I'm hip deep in found family trope content with the old BAU team lol ?

Absolutely think once Penny gets a sniff at something R's interested in she's going to get him something related to that to keep his mind off of the dark things the job forces him into. She's absolutely the one you could just pour out and she's ready to help, care and possible be doting ;; .

Also just randomly thinking about those roof-top chase scenes where reader would be the dominant one bc he could catch up faster with the target especially if it's jumping roof top to roof top. Bc naturally much stronger and longer leaps than a human can do and more stamina. ( Bc of having a jumping spider specific powers )

#bau team #criminal minds #crossover #criminal minds x male reader #criminal minds x reader #masc reader #male reader #ftm reader #gn reader #x masc reader #x male reader #x ftm reader #x gn reader #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #david rossi #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner x male reader #derek morgan x male reader #spencer reid x male reader #david rossi x male reader #jennifer jareau x male reader #emily prentiss x male reader #penelope garcia x male reader #x nonbinary reader #🔮.headcanon #🔮.series.🎡🕸️

[charlesandmartine]

Tuesday 23rd April 2024

On our last morning on the Shamwari Game Reserve we were not permitted a lie in. Oh no, still lots to do. So we had a half hour warning at 06.30 to present ourselves for breakfast and then Raymond was to take us to the Shamwari Rehabilitation Centre to see what they do with defective animals. Unlike Born Free, the object is to fix the problem and get the animals back out into the wild where they belong, and frankly we were amazed at the time and dedication they were prepared to put into saving animals. This is an impressive new facility built as recently as 2018 for the Shamwari Game Reserve and it is an integral part of the conservation work they do on site. We saw a white rhino orphaned at birth so had been hand reared, being fed milk till 18 months old, with the plan that it'll be released when 2 years old. Being a wild animal it butts the keeper rather badly when the milk run is ready to be performed. They needed a routine to pacify the animal first before delivering the white stuff and the method devised is to blindfold him and put earmuffs on first. Rhino needed companionship, and surprisingly this is provided by Frank the sheep! They didn't get on initially but now they are inseparable.

This team is remarkable. They have Patrick the giraffe, abandoned at birth and reared also by hand. I imagined a giraffe at birth might possibly be the size of a giant stick insect. Apparently a new born giraffe is a good 2 meters tall! Patrick is doing fine. A new avenue for the centre is vultures. They have recently received some 50 or so vultures who have been injured and are now in the process of recovery. Vultures are useful in cleaning up carcasses and preventing rats and blowflies which restricts the spread of disease. A major success story was the surgery performed on a severely injured white rhino left for dead after poachers cut his horn off and basically leaving a hole in its head! Rhino are still very much sought by poachers who can get $1M for a horn in the US which buys an awful lot of corrupt officials turning blind eyes!

Other inmates are elephants, jackals and meerkats. These are long-term projects and release to the wild takes time, ensuring that the animal will be able to cope on its own.

We took a wide loop back to the lodge on the lookout for any animals we might have missed, but it was like the apocalypse had come, there were none to see! So we settled up, paid a vast amount in tips, jumped back into the VW (now exceedingly clean after the staff had valeted it) and roared off down the dusty road replacing the dust removed with a bucketload of fresh dust and out towards the main gate heading for Port Elizabeth and our replacement hotel; The Hacklewood Hill Country House, built 1898 for Mr & Mrs Mattingly. Now a five star Victorian boutique hotel somewhat favoured by Trailfinders I think. This is home for the night although we shall have to abandon it tomorrow morning in favour of a very early flight to Johannesburg and then on to Kasane in Botswana where we shall be transferred to the Chobe Game Reserve.

ps What a fantastic experience this section of our trip has been. Shamwari has been great both for service and terrific food we have been provided and also for the insight into the animals and their habitat we have been voyeurs to. To be feet away from the majesty of lions, the power and size of elephants, the height, grace and elegance of giraffes is absolutely mind blowing. To see close up the endangered, hunted, but thankfully protected rhino is quite awe inspiring. It is easy to forget that these animals are entirely wild, would easily kill you, but are in their natural environment and are living the life they deserve. After the recent rains the vegetation is so lush and green and the animals are loving it.

pps We have begun our course of anti malarial tablets essential because of the risk in Botswana. We have been warned of side effects!

ppps Superb meal tonight at the hotel. Ostrich steak, really nice and eating out here is so cheap!!

#Shamwari Rehabilitation Centre #Port Elizabeth

[forestshadow-wolf]

Blossoms of Love

Leaves and breath

Pairing: Soap/Ghost

Important tags: angst, hurt/comfort, hanahaki

Ao3 link here || chapter 1 here || Chapter 3

Ghost finished loading the last of the supplies into the cargo hull of nikolai’s plane, so they could fly off to bum-fuck-nowhere for roughly 4 weeks. Nik would fly them up to the first drop-point, far enough away to avoid detection. Then the four of them; Price, Gaz, Soap, and himself; would hike the rest of the way to the location on the map, gather what intel they could, then remove all traces of it and themselves after sending it to Laswell. The 7 or so extra days they were allotted to allow them time to get to the next location, they’d be traveling on foot as any vehicle they could use either couldn’t maneuver around the terrain, or remain unseen. On any other mission like this one would have two teams of at least 12 men, but this one required discretion. A feat much easier accomplished with fewer feet, and Price refused to send the lieutenant and his sergeants without putting himself at the same level of risk.

He adjusted the last crate to fit snuggly before loading up the cargo ramp, and shutting the compartment. As he walked around to the loading ramp, he finished up the last of the plane checks that Nikolai asked him to do. Finally boarding the plane, he found himself a seat near the cockpit of the plane. His throat had remained as sore as it had been the day before; if not more so; while he donned the headset, and buckled himself in. He pulled out his phone as the others took their own seats; soap directly across from him at the back of the plane, Gaz to the seat right of Soap, and Price took the other corner by the cockpit. As soon as the doors were sealed and everyone was sat, the plane began it’s taxi.

He clicked on his messenger app, flicked his eyes up to the clock, the time read 0553. It was cluttered to all hell, he hadn’t opened the damned thing in months, much less cleaned it out. What better time to do so, than an 11 hour flight. He scrolled past the starred contacts, and clicked one at random. The first message it showed was a link, and then the words “sad but interesting article I found earlier, you should check it out.” he received from G.R.S., he inhaled a breath and his hands shook slightly as he tapped on the link and it pulled up an informational website.

~~~~~~~~~

Vomere floresco ‘amo’ insanitias, commonly mistaken as ‘Hanahaki’ disease, is most commonly identified when an individual with such disease begins coughing up flower petals. Unlike Vomere floresco insanitias, which is a disease, Vomere floresco ‘amo’ insanitias is a fungus, often referred to as type 2 ‘hanahaki’ or ‘hanahaki-B’. Its damaging properties remain similar to it’s cousin, though it is a much slower infection.

Hanahaki-B stems from unreturned or unacknowledged feelings, spanning the entirety of positive emotions an individual can feel for another. The common ‘Hanahaki’ takes root due to a one-sided feeling of exclusively romantic love.

Much like the common ‘hanahaki’, ‘hanahaki-B’ causes an affected individual to cough up petals and flowers. Unlike the common ‘hanahaki’, this variant of infection causes the individual to vomit various other parts of the same plant; often relating to the sought after love. In some cases this can be especially discomforting, as some plant species may sport spines, or stinging leaves.

The infection can dissipate on its own if feelings are returned towards an affected individual. Though surgical removal is possible, though removing the infection also removes any positive affliction towards the wanted individual, it is also more difficult to perform than for the common variant. Many people prefer to let the infection run its course, rather than endure the consequence of surgery.

If left untreated common ‘hanahaki’ will fill the lungs of an individual with flowers and petals in such a way that they asphyxiate to death. ‘Hanahaki-B’ will grow roots throughout the esophagus and chest to stop the heart. While ‘hanahaki-B’ will similarly fill the lungs with petals and flowers, it will not do so in such a way that the host asphyxiates to death without outlying medical conditions.

Early symptoms of ‘hanahaki-B’ include: chest aches, shortness of breath, and a sore/scratchy throat. Onset symptoms, which appear based on how strong the feelings are, can include: heart aches, and coughing flowers, petals, blood, and other plant parts, and shortness of breath. Late stages look like sharp pain in the chest, akin to a heart attack, vomiting entire parts of plants, easy bruising on the upper dermis layer, and difficulty breathing.

*special cases have been recorded to occasionally worsen with physical proximity with the wanted individual.

~~~~~~~~~

He thumbed his way down to the bottom of the article, scanning as it passed. There wasn’t much else, it listed off several famous instances of this happening in the past, he found that tragically many people don’t survive the fungus. His hands still shook, as a sense of deja vu passed over him, and he quickly exited out of both the article and messenger app. He checked the time, 0647, before shutting his phone off. 10.5 hours left before they land, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the call of the cabin area.

A sharp, raking stabbing feeling in his throat had his eyes shooting open. Ahead of him soap was staring at him, and all the while the pain did not let up. He was just barely able to reign in the cough he could feel building in his esophagus. He did his best to discreetly clear his throat, even as he could taste the coppery tang of red on his tongue. He tipped his head to the side a little hoping he correctly displayed, ‘you need something?’. The pain held tight as the sergeant continued to stare at him for another second, before turning his attention back to the man beside him. Then and only then did the claws in his throat slowly release their grip. It left him with a raw throat, and swallowing a full mouthful of blood.

When the pain had mostly leveled out he took stock of himself and his surroundings. He was fine, all his stuff was on him, he hadn’t dropped or broken anything. When he looked over Price was looking at him, with what he could only decipher as worry. Old man sees too much, knows something isn’t right with him. The captain gestured with his hands, ‘YOU SOLID?’, ghost immediately recognized familiar motions of BSL. he gave a thumbs up, not even looking at the man as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes again. He ‘s gonna catch a few Zs, seeing as how he’s foregone sleep in favor of reviewing the mission plans.

-----------

@checkerscharlie @halb-nichts @heyitsropi @trekkie-in-space

#el rambles #Blossoms of Love #cod mw2 #cod #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghostsoap #soapghost #hanahaki