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girlwithwolftatoo · 2 years

Note

I was thinking of a oneshot where the reader is an avatar of a goddess who was khonshu's lover and the reader has a crush on Marc/Steven and is helping him on this adventure until Harold captures her and Moon Knight goes to save her and finds her drugged because it's the only way Harold can control the goddess. (the reader is a tiny woman ^^)

Sorry for the delay! This request is one of my favorites and I wanted it to do it nice.

So, first of all, I did some research and the only consort referred to Khonshu is Hathor, and since Yatzil has her, I made a little twist for the plot. I hope you like it!

The Moon is a Silver Claw

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!Reader (sort of Marc Spector x f!Reader at the end)

Tags: Friendship, falling in love, danger. Tw: drowning.

"You do see it?" groaned Steven, huddled against a wall. He still wore the dapper-looking white suit he had mistakenly summoned some time before. Over his shoulder, Khonshu cocked his beak so he could look at the little woman standing in front of the terrified man.

"Why… yes," her eyes went for brief seconds to the bird's skull, self-consciously.

"How is that possible? No one else sees it, no one else but me has seen it, only I hear it…"

"Steven, shut up," Khonshu warned him.

"But…!" protested the alluded one. The girl knelt in front of Steven, seeking to reassure him. She sensed in him a deep distress, and it grieved her, he was a sweet and kind guy.

"Steven…listen to me" she requested, lowering her voice. The big puppy dog eyes burned her heart, and she could feel a kind of purr in her chest "Can I…can I put my hands on your shoulders?" When Steven nodded, she gently held him.

"What are you doing, you nosy little girl?" growled Khonshu, tilting his beak at her. The young woman was not daunted, however.

"Can you really see it?" asked Steven between stammers. The girl nodded. "How?"

What was the point of lying to him?

"It's just that…" the girl's eyes went back to the Moon god, wondering what consequences that encounter might bring "I'm also the avatar of a goddess."

"What?" jumped Steven and Khonshu at the same time.

"How… Who…?" asked the man.

She had barely peeled her lips away when a whisper filled the wind. The three of them turned their heads toward the end of the alley, where what looked like a white sandstorm out of nowhere rolled until, behind it, a figure almost as tall as Khonshu appeared. In the backlight it appeared more human-like, at least from neck to knees, for then a pair of feline paws that made not the slightest sound approached. Two large green eyes gleamed in the darkness, and a cat-like face looked first at the humans and then, at the bird, which looked uncomfortable.

"You!"

"It's good to see you too," replied the newcomer, in a low, gravelly voice, polite and rhythmic. Steven's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Steven…" the girl raised a hand in the direction of the goddess, who was sporting beautiful bright blue eyeliner on the gigantic eyes and a pair of gold earrings in the pointed ears "May I introduce you to Bastet."

…

"I don't want you to go see her!"

Steven was pacing up and down the room, finishing getting ready. He had picked out his newest, cleanest clothes and was going over a small notebook where he had written down a few things so he wouldn't forget the day's itinerary.

"Alright, first we'll go to the Natural History Museum… Then we'll have something to eat… Then a walk around Kensington…"

"Marc, take the body! I don't want this idiot to set foot out of here!" growled Khonshu.

Walking past his mirror, Steven saw the other's reflection, which looked neutral.

"Well… I don't see why he can't go on a date. She's cute and seems nice" replied Marc.

"She's Bastet's avatar! Nothing good can come out of that… feline!"

"What's your problem?" protested Steven "Do you have a thing for her? Did she stand you up or something?"

"Me?" if Khonshu had had feathers he would have fluffed them to show his indignation "Let's see, how do you explain it to a mere, dumb mortal? Solar goddesses are not worthy of my trust."

"She's not exactly a solar goddess, she's the… goddess of joy and home."

"And you know she was once the eye of Ra?"

"And what's that got?" asked Marc. Steven was finishing pouring food into Gus II's tank.

"Well, it sounds to me like you're really into violence, so I'm sure she and you would get along just fine" he replied, disinterested in the god's concerns.

"That's not all, she's insane and dangerous, even the other gods know what she's like, ruthless, emotional…"

"But I'm not dating her but her avatar, am I not?" Steven raised his eyebrows in Khonshu's direction, and after getting hold of his wallet he walked out without devoting another thought to him.

...

"He's a bit of a fool… his avatar, I mean" Bastet remained placidly lying down Turkish style as her avatar finished undressing. "I can't imagine why Khonshu chose him, he doesn't look like the type to swat a fly…" realizing the girl wasn't paying attention to her, she dissolved into thin air and reappeared next to her "That smile… You've been wearing it all day, you're not telling me you're falling in love with Stefan?"

"Steven" she corrected her "And…" she shrugged. A smile appeared on Bastet's mouth.

"I see" she purred "He's attractive, I won't deny it, though he has a head full of sweet goofs" Her head tilted to the young woman's left ear "I bet anything you want he makes up for his awkwardness with manliness"

"What do you say?" the girl's cheeks flushed.

"Well, haven't you heard what they say? Intellectuals have a lot to offer below the waist."

"It's a joke, isn't it?"

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"Sorry, are you in… rutting period or something?" growled the girl.

"I'm the goddess of sexuality" Bastet reminded her, amused "And you're young and beautiful, and I can see that this… Steven has feelings for you."

"Well how cute but… do you mean it?" seeing that her goddess only smiled, she bowed her head "I… I don't know, we have many differences, age for example… He must think I'm a little girl."

"Then show him that you are a woman. And if Khonshu tries to interfere, don't worry…" claws of colossal size and that looked like they were made of gold appeared on Bastet's left paw "I've always wanted to pluck him."

The young woman laughed, not knowing if Bastet was serious or not.

"By the way, why do you two get along so badly?"

"My dear, men don't tolerate competition, much less when the one challenging them is their own father…"

…

Steven looked, anxiously, at the time on his watch. Almost an hour had passed, and there was no sign of his date anywhere. Dejected, he ducked his head, and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the steak knife. Marc watched him from there, chagrined.

"Steven… I think we'd better go," he advised him gently.

"Something must have happened…maybe she was running late" he replied, waving his phone. He had sent a few texts and tried to call, to no avail.

"You don't have to do this to yourself."

"You said…you said everything was fine" Steven whispered, tilting his head to look at the knife. Marc sighed and shook his head, he regretted what happened, up until then everything seemed to be going smoothly and Steven was about to ask the girl to formalize, and now seeing him there, sitting alone with the night behind him, really made him feel bad. Maybe his instinct was wrong?

Then, they saw it. It happened in a matter of seconds, but it was so clear that everyone in the restaurant, the street, and even the cars, turned their heads and pointed to the strange occurrence. The sky had turned red, and the sun, which had begun to set, had an unusual, impossible shape, like a diamond.

"What the bloody…?" growled Steven, getting to his feet. The wind ruffled his hair and then, a now familiar voice called out to him:

"Marc! Something's happened" Khonshu was leaning like a bird of prey over the edge of the railing that divided the restaurant's terrace.

"What?"

A long, bandaged finger pointed to the horizon, while the strange red sky still glowed.

"It's a sign from Bastet - something's wrong, it could be a calling for help."

Steven instinctively grabbed for the knife, Marc was also upset. They both thought the same thing.

"Steven…" began Marc, but Marc repeated:

"I know. I know. Please hurry."

Red sky was greeted with a weak smile from Arthur. He leered at the girl who had been subdued, unable to keep her head up for long. The man turned his back to the sky and confronted her.

"The goddess Bastet has not always loved mankind" he commented almost as if to himself "When she was the eye of Ra, she did terrible things in the name of her father, blood covered the Earth, and dripped from her claws… Such was her slaughter that the gods had to soothe her… with wine and beer, until she could no longer stand and slept for a long time."

One eye in the young woman's face was normal, the other, bright green with a slit pupil, was the only one that managed to half-focus on Ammit's despicable avatar. Arthur stepped closer, leaning down to hold her face.

"You've had too much to drink, dear girl…and I've added a few extra ingredients so you can sleep. It is not your fault any of this, Bastet has been most unfair in choosing someone so young and innocent to represent her, but rest assured that you will not suffer from Ammit's judgment for her."

The girl's upper lip lifted, and a hoarse voice burst from within her:

"You will be condemned for this… I will cut off… the head of your goddess… with my claws…"

"No need to make threats" Arthur touched the tip of her nose playfully with his forefinger "I give you one last chance, leave this poor girl, destroy all her memories of you, and I will let her go now."

For all response, Bastet hissed and let out a low, menacing growl. After that last effort, her avatar's head hung, almost unconscious, still held by Arthur's henchmen. The man sighed, looking condescending.

"It's a pity we couldn't understand each other. You know what to do" he added, turning to his men.

…

At first, Marc feared they might not be able to locate her, however, before the sky returned to normal, Khonshu pointed out a curious detail, and it was the sun's rays that, from their odd angle, illuminated a handful of stars that seemed to mark a course. Moon Knight moved forward as fast as he could, following the moon god's directions.

"How is it that she could use the stars?" asked Marc as he left a couple more buildings behind.

"Bastet was not always a solar goddess" explained Khonshu "Long ago, before our father ordered her to fight the humans, she lived in the house of night with Thoth and me."

Moon Knight nearly skidded on one of the rooftops.

"Your father, you and Bastet are siblings?"

He noticed out of the corner of his eye that the god cocked his head to one side, avoiding his view.

"We've arrived," he announced in a weaker voice than usual.

He had no trouble entering the building, which was small and barely a couple of stories high. He was met with the usual resistance, but he hurriedly disentangled himself from them, sheltered by the gloom that surrounded them. At the end of the corridor he noticed a flash of blue, and the faint but familiar smell of chlorine.

He found he was in an indoor pool, all alone because of the hour. Or rather, alone except for a man he knew and loathed.

"You!" growled Marc. Arthur cocked his head to one side.

"How interesting, I wasn't expecting your visit precisely here. Since when did Khonshu care about others?" the older man asked, leaning on his cane.

"Where is she?"

"Who, the girl or the goddess?" Arthur didn't seem the least bit concerned "Bastet is impressive, isn't she? I didn't have the pleasure of seeing her in person, she hid inside her unfortunate slave, but that made things easier."

"I'm not going to ask you again" Moon Knight advanced with a pair of crescent moons in his hands, ready to strike "Where is she?"

"Ah!" the servant of Ammit looked amused "So that's what this is all about… Tell me, who of all your selves loves her the most? Or does she have a single favorite? Have you told her about how your mind and spirit are just broken pieces?"

"That's enough!" squawked Khonshu, and a crescent cut through the air in Arthur's direction. The man barely had time to avoid it, but almost instantly a second crescent flew past him, wounding his arm.

"Tell me where she is!" demanded Marc. Arthur had bent down, holding his wounded arm, and saw his rival advance towards him and hold him without any consideration "Arthur!"

The man's eyes darted to the pool. Marc did the same, and that was when he noticed, in one of the corners of the still, illuminated waters, a figure beneath the surface, small and hunched. He felt dizzy, and after throwing Arthur against the wall he jumped into the water.

It didn't take him long to reach the girl, who had her hands cuffed behind her back and had been chained to the bottom of the pool. Marc felt panic, he couldn't tell how long she had been down there but he didn't plan to stop to think about it, and he grabbed another crescent to cut the chain. It took him a few strokes, but at last the links gave way and, without thinking twice, he held the body of his dear friend and began the ascent, for the pool must have been at least three meters deep in that area.

Then he noticed that, above their heads, the light disappeared. Arthur, staggering, had reached the lever to place the cover, and it slid right over the pool, leaving only a few inches between the water and the surface. Marc kicked, seeking to beat the race to the cover, but it was getting harder and harder, and when he was sure he could get his head out, he found the hard shell brushing against his hair, forcing him to keep swimming.

At last his free hand clung to the edge, and he made an effort to lift the girl and himself out of the water, yet a couple of shots struck the pool, and he saw that Arthur, cowering on the floor, was doing his best to prevent him from ascending.

"It is not I who takes your lives!" exclaimed the man, heedless of the drops of blood soaking his shirt "It is your gods, who have led you astray!"

Marc watched, in despair, as the deck beat them to the race. He had managed to take another breath of air before diving to escape the bullets, but it wasn't enough. His head was beginning to feel very light and a deep ache in his lungs, and he kept thinking about the state of the poor young woman hanging limp (he didn't want to think "lifeless," the idea was too horrifying) from his arm. The deck met the end of the pool, and Marc reached for a crescent to break the shell, but his strokes had become clumsy. He pressed his partner's body against himself in desperation, clawing without much success at the barrier that kept him from the precious air.

"Steven…" he thought with his last glimpses of consciousness, consumed by lack of oxygen "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

He looked for a moment at the girl's face, gripped by infinite pain. He had not been able to save her, it was possible that he could not even save himself, he had brought a dreadful death on another innocent, and this time, the guilt would end up consuming him until the last second of the life that escaped him.

Then, he noticed something moving in the water next to him. It was hard to make it out in the watery darkness, but he felt the thing move past his face, large, heavy, and lean against the deck. Golden claws dug into the shell, making huge scratches in it, and then the paw repeated the gesture, twice, three times, and Marc could see behind the young woman's head a feline face that seemed absent.

Something trembled on the surface, and Bastet's paw retracted, and the goddess disappeared from his sight. Then something long and sharp pierced the shield, plunging into it about thirty centimeters from Marc's head. The sharp object came out and went in again, pulling at the deck until it made a large hole in it in a few seconds, and a ghostly hand entered the water, pulling Moon Knight by the neck of the cape.

The first breath of air was a wonderful sensation that Marc treasured. He coughed and spat out a splash of water as he was dragged from the deck to solid ground, and saw that Khonshu was the one who had pulled him out. The bird looked obfuscated.

"You love to make me irritated, don't you?" he said. The man dropped to all fours, still dizzy.

"Thank you," he gasped. He looked to his side and remembered then that his companion was still not awake, and pounced on her.

He turned her over, and with another of his half moons cut the handcuffs and hurriedly maneuvered to force her to spit out all the water she might have swallowed. He noticed that as he squeezed her abdomen a good amount of water came out of her mouth and nose, and when he was satisfied he laid her on her back, patting her face.

"Wake up, wake up, please!" he called her name, startled, and brought his ear to her lips and then, to her chest. He wasn't sure but her heart still seemed to be beating. The mask disappeared from his face, and he began to give her artificial respiration, more and more worried, "Please… Please wake up, I know you can…"

He breathed all the air he had in his lungs into her and looked at her chest. It was still still.

"Fuck… wake up!"

Finally, he heard a gurgle, and the girl coughed with all her might, still spitting up more water. She looked disoriented and her body shuddered. Marc let out a groan of relief.

"You're okay!" he hugged her against himself, leaving her only room to breathe. Slowly the brown eyes managed to focus on him, blinking slowly.

"It is not possible to subdue a goddess except by foul trickery" Khonshu commented. "Arthur escaped."

Marc wasn't really paying attention to him, he was looking at the dazed and sweet face of the young girl with whom Steven had spent wonderful days. He was always on the lookout, from time to time he was able to catch a glimpse and was touched by the relationship between the two, despite the constant complaints of the Moon god, who insisted that a servant of Bastet was not to be trusted; he was wrong, fortunately, he was sure to see in those eyes the most sincere appreciation he had seen in a long time.

"You…" she gasped, raising a hand to bring it to Marc's face "You're not Steven…"

The man was stunned. He looked at Khonshu, but the latter shrugged.

"How… why do you say that?" he asked.

"I don't know… it's just that your eyes…" again, she blinked "I think I suspected it… that there was something else inside you…"

Marc ducked his head.

"What's your name?"

The man swallowed, he would have a lot of explaining to do, and Steven… how would Steven take that?

"I'm Marc Spector" he answered in a breathy whisper.

"Marc" she whispered back, then smiled. Standing not far from them, the two gods watched them, Bastet held kindly by Khonshu.

#moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight series #marc spector #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #arthur harrow #oscar isaac #ethan hawke #khonshu #bastet

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animatedrapture · 4 years

Text

RINTOBER: [Greet Me With Goodbye]

suna rintarō x reader

word count: 2k

tags: bandmember!suna, angst, implied cheating, toxic relationship, post-breakup, smoking

song: 505 - arctic monkeys

a/n: PLEASE READ THE FIC WHILE LISTENING TO THIS. thank you mous for beta-reading this for me <3

The lights were near blinding as you stood behind the large crowd, having opted to stay where you can only see enough and be barely seen from the front of the stage where he stood.

The start of the song is what causes goosebumps against your skin—like it wants to take your breath away, and if you weren’t having trouble breathing before, you definitely were when you heard his voice again—booming and deep as he sang the first verse of the song. Your heart aches when you remember the first time you heard it, nowhere near finished then.

“I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck?” You read the lyrics out, intrigued, and you look back up to him. His gaze holds yours with unparalleled tenderness behind the gloss of his eyes. You cock an eyebrow at him with an amused smile.

“Reminded me a lot about you when we first started trying to figure the lyrics out,” Suna answered with nonchalance, nodding at the paper held between your fingertips as if to tell you to continue reading through it.

“You’re not wrong,” you commented, humming in thought. “I’d still adore you with your hands around my neck, Rintarou.”

Suna grins, a glint in his eyes evident. Maybe because he knew, even without you telling him. He knew you adored him to a sinful extent.

The cheers and audience singing along to the sound of his voice were loud, but the thunderous beating of your heart was louder. So much louder. That’s when you think that maybe you shouldn’t have come here, you shouldn’t have let your friends convince you to stand directly in front of him yet stand so far away as if you were hiding. Well, perhaps you really were hiding; you could definitely step forward, see his face with a thin sheen of sweat, strumming along the guitar that hung around his torso—God, his torso—and his hair slightly covering the pair of eyes you’ve loved so deeply for a long time. His pretty face looked ethereal from where you stood, the beaming lights surrounding the stage accentuating everything that made him who he was, Suna Rintarou.

Suna’s thumb grazes your lower lip, swiping lightly with his intense gaze locked with yours. It’s hypnotizing like always. Suna’s green eyes—heavily lidded that it made him all the more pretty, all the more breathtaking—set on you as you sat on his lap, the blunt tucked in between the fingers of his other hand emitting smoke that invaded your lungs like he invaded the entirety of your mind.

You can’t look away, not even when he takes a drag of it directly in front of you—it’s frustrating how oddly seducing it was to watch him, your eyes following the way he inhaled the smoke that was toxic to his lungs like he was toxic to your own heart, poison to your own mind, venom in your bloodstream.

His lips find yours immediately, his hand that was on your face moving to the inside of your thighs and it’s enough to make you gasp—your lips parting against his as he blows out the smoke to your mouth and you inhale.

You inhale because it was more like taking him in your system than the smoke that was toxic for your lungs, poison to your mind, venom in your bloodstream.

You inhale and take him in your system. Yet you never would’ve thought he’d vanish like the same smoke going up in the air until you see it no more.

“Not shy of a spark, the knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark,” You wish you were imagining it, the heavy drip of pain and contempt laced in his voice as he sang the words out. He sings like it’s flashing all in his head, every fight you both had—because it’s coming back to you too like a ton of bricks.

Or maybe the sensation of it all coming back to you is more like what the lyrics he sang suggests already, a knife to the chest so deep that there’s simply no way you’d survive from it—no way a relationship could survive from it. The knife to your chest is dug deep enough; how do you live when it’s twisted and turned so sadistically?

“You’re late again,” you mutter, sighing in exhaustion as you looked back at Suna who sat across from you from the table of the restaurant. It was your date night, scheduled already weeks before—yet he came in late—an hour late to be exact. An hour you spent giving tight lipped smiles to everyone’s gazes who fell on you near the middle of the restaurant as you waited, an hour spent smiling politely as you answered waiters who came near you asking if you’re ready to order.

An hour spent wondering why this isn’t the first nor second time he left you waiting on nights that should’ve been about the both of you.

“Look, I’m sorry, yeah?” He quipped, not bothering to even spare you a glance.

He eyes the menu while your eyes begin to sting as you hold back your tears. You want to burst, to say something—anything. Anything that would take his attention, anything that would finally tell him you can’t keep doing this.

“You don’t seem sorry, Rin,” you reply silently, gaze steady on his figure still looking through the menu. He finally looks up at you, exasperation fully evident in his features.

“What’d ya want me to say? I just ran a lil late, alright?” He snapped, the menu falling harshly down the table from his grip.

“You’ve been running a little late for months now—I’m tired of it,” your voice sounds weak, defeated. This is something you didn’t know was like knife twisted into Suna Rintarou’s heart.

“If you’re tired, then leave,” his voice was cold to a scalding degree.

Maybe the mistake was that you didn’t leave that night. That you continued something that you both should’ve tried to end that night—or at least attempted to. You didn’t know this either, but had you attempted to leave, Suna was bound to chase after you and engulf you in his arms.

But you didn’t.

“I'm going back to 505, if it's a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination, you're waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs.”

Every beat of the song felt like a kick with the kind of ache you felt against your chest that seemed so constricting. It’s like you’re inhaling the same smoke from his lungs again, choking you with it.

You’re not sure how it happens, nor does it register in time when bright lights fall just where you stood—not in a dramatic sense like those god-forsaken clichéd romance novels—but simply out of coincidence. Come to think of it, had you stepped forward, you wouldn’t have been there, completely visible in his line of sight when his narrowed eyes zero on you in the crowd so easily as if you were magnet to his gaze, still.

That could’ve been the case before. But not anymore.

Not anymore, you ponder. If you hadn’t walked away and pulled from his embrace that day, would things have been different? He’s standing on a bigger stage now; oddly enough, you also heard he’s had more control of his schedule since. It’s been so long since the last time he’s seen you, been so long since he woke up to an empty bed—your warmth gone and your lingering scent on the sheets faint as if you were barely there to begin with.

Just like that, he wished he could take it all back.

The sound of Suna’s phone felt nagging and relentless. The more days passed, the more it was louder, the more his eyes remained trained on his phone.

His fidelity remained unquestioned even as your relationship with him turned disastrously strained from all the hours you’ve spent waiting, all the days you’ve spent without him, all the replies you never received—all your messages left on read like you’re looking at Suna Rintarou, your own boyfriend, through a static screen.

He continued to fall short and break your heart little by little but knowing he loved you beyond his actions was something you wholeheartedly believed; because his eyes staring back at you remained both tender and fiery like golden balance of true love.

Yet maybe you were wrong.

The final straw is the way your eyes follow the string of messages between Suna and another girl you’ve forced yourself to forget the name of. Your gaze lingers and wallow at the provocative pictures of the woman, enough to make you wonder where you lacked—where you came short.

You wished it was only that which set you apart piece by piece like a puzzle being undone and someone else stealing the pieces of yourself you thought you gave to the man you can trust those pieces with to safe-keep.

But the blue bubble saying, “Meet me in a few minutes,” on one of the nights he came late—bright blue and blinding enough to make you want to gauge your eyes out—and the following, “I’m here, where are you?” burns in the back of your head like his lit up cigarettes against your skin so fervently.

That day, little by little, you packed your things in the most discreet of ways; sure, it should’ve probably taken a lot before Suna would have noticed when he’s barely home with you—but you remained scared that he would notice and you wouldn’t say no if he asked you to stay, because that’s how much Suna had you—line, hook, and sinker.

You take one tentative step back, but your legs feel restrained and paralyzed underneath you when Suna’s eyes lock with yours, meters apart, but you would be lying if you said it’s an illusion when his eyes glimmer the same way—tender and fiery.

“But I crumble completely when you cry, it seems like once again you’d have to greet me with goodbye,” his voice sounds so much louder, so much heavier—especially with his eyes trained on you as he sang the lyrics out without waver.

Your heart swells and you think, it’s unfair. It’s unfair that his eyes looked as if he was pleading for you not to go the same way you knew he would’ve had he only known you were leaving him that day.

Suna was worn-out. Tired beyond effable means or description of words; and he thinks he couldn’t be more exhausted when he rattles on the doorknob of the home you shared with him, the place he came home to with you—only to find it locked. He’s too exhausted to notice the way the house felt emptier, seemed emptier like something—someone was missing when he pushes the key in and enters the place.

Suna was too exhausted to think you’d be gone forever; too drained to ever consider that it’ll take a year since that day before he sees you again.

Suna was too exhausted to notice the letter you left on the bedside table; too exhausted to notice you’ve been gone for a week until he comes home again for a break, only for his heart to break at the sight of the empty house. Empty; defined as: without you

You don’t notice the tears cascading down your cheeks until you see the way Suna’s eyebrows furrowed together from the stage he stood on as he continued to sing, never once taking his eyes off of you, like he’s hurting from the way he watches you cry.

“I'm always just about to go and spoil a surprise, take my hands off of your eyes too soon.” The ring placed as a pendant on the necklace around Suna’s neck glistened under the strobe lights dancing around suddenly felt heavier—so much heavier, as if it’s you who has your hands around his neck.

Maybe you do.

Maybe you do; because Suna runs off of the stage the moment the last beat of his lyrics come as he sees you finally looking away. Your figure slowly dimming away as the lights calm down to the beat of the song slowly dwindling away like you did—but never like the fire that burned in your chest at the sight of him.

You wish you could run but every step you took felt like you had boulders weighing down on your feet; as if no part of you wanted to go—and maybe that’s the miracle that Suna will forever thank whatever deity is out there for, because without it, he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to you as you attempted to drag your body and walk away, trying not to look back.

📞 violet is calling… all content featured belongs to ©️ animatedrapture. do not plagiarize, repost, or modify.

#suna x reader #suna #Suna Rintarou #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu angst #suna angst #hq suna #suna x you #RINTOBER

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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part VII/VII)

"apart"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

George Weasley: @meph1stophelian

Things never go as planned: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadows @missmulti @accioweaslcy @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley16 @dianarte @skarlettmikaelson

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: language (?) Angst

A/N: P L E A S E DON'T MURDER ME YET THERE'S AN EPILOGUE OKAY?! OKAY now enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part VI: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Since the Amortentia incident, Y/n had barely looked at me; not in the way I had avoided her after New Year, though, this time, it was different. She didn't seem to be doing it accidentally, rather than on purpose; she appeared to be too lost into her turmoil of thoughts to realise what she was doing, which scared me more.

I had figured the Amortentia would have had something to do with it, but it took me two days to pick up on it.

Undoubtedly, Y/n had smelled Fred's scent on it, and it dawned on her how twisted what we were doing was.

I cried myself to sleep the night that my mind stumbled upon that information. I let myself sob violently, pouring out as much pain as I could, wanting to wash away the recurrent thoughts that creeped on my mind, thoughts that were not unfounded.

That was it— I had lost both a friend and the woman I loved.

Once the tears seem to die out, a new thought appeared in my mind; maybe I was meant to be alone. I could barely function alone, how was I supposed to function with another person?

Perhaps I had always be meant to be alone.

I was going to be alone forever.

I was alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

It took my careless arse a hot minute to be aware of how obvious my emotional rollercoaster was from the outside; George had been getting visibly upset by it —I'd dare to reckon he even cried the past night because of it—, and I had to stop that, but how?

I knew it was always best to tell the truth, but where would that take us? Nowhere good. I couldn't just tell George I was in love with him and expect us not to fall apart even harder.

He would think I'm lying, or that I'm using him as a second option —I couldn't let him think that—, but again, his mind had probably gone to those thoughts due to my radio silence.

I had to tell him the truth, and face the consequences.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of our front door's lock opening snapped me out of my own mind, and even made me jump a bit in the couch I sat. I had been waiting for George to arrive for a good couple of hours, weighing on how I could approach the topic, but I didn't seem to come up with anything remotely good.

He stepped into the flat with his eyes casted down, so it took him a moment to acknowledge my presence. "I—" his now dull eyes observed me with confusion, as if he wasn't expecting to see me in my own flat. "what are you doing awake?"

"Waiting for you." He closed the door, scrutinising me with furrowed brows. "I— well—" I cleared my throat and got up, causing his shoulders to tense up. "I wanted to tell you something."

I thought I would have to fight his childish behavior and convince him not to dodge the subject, but he only leaned on the door, his hands behind his back and his eyes casted down. "I... I wanted to tell you something too."

"You go first." I prompted him, planning on using those extra seconds to mentally prepare myself for what I was about to say —as if I hadn't been trying to mentally prepare myself for two hours already.

He peeked at me and sighed, his eyes coming back to his shoes before speaking. "I don't know how to say this— I" he pursed his lips and I could see the struggle irradiating from him. "I think you should move out." Now I knew why he refused to meet my gaze. "We— we need time away y'know— Fleur offered to help you look for an apartment. I'll go back to the Burrow until you find one— and I'm not firing you but I would appreciate if you didn't attend the clients if I'm there."

I should have spoken first, I scolded myself.

"Why?"

"What why?"

"Why you should've spoken first?"

"I— well, so you see," I tugged on my sleeves; it was my turn to avoid his look. "W-when I spilled the Amortentia— well I— I smelled—"

"I know."

"You... Do?"

"Yeah, that's... That's why I think we need some time away."

I had never in my life had my heart shattered in so many pieces in such a short span of time. The pain was so immense that I wasn't able to shed a single tear. Out of every outcome, this was the least expected.

"O-okay." We kept sneaking glances at each other in a dreadful silence until our eyes accidentally met. "I think—"

"I should—"

Another best of silence fell among us after we simultaneously spoke.

"I should go pick some things up." He muttered, passing by my side as fast as he could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning I caught him, as I expected, sneaking out of the flat with one of the bags he had carried in months ago.

He was already exiting when I jogged out of my room, managing to catch his hand.

I could see the goosebumps in his arm, and I thanked Merlin he couldn't hear my heart threatening to leaving my chest to go with him.

"I'm really sorry, George." I whispered, squeezing his hand. Although I had a tiny bit of hope that he would change his mind and step back into our home if I said those words, it was more of a goodbye.

He just shook his head, letting me know there was no need for an apology, and squeezed my hand back before pulling away.

His fingers slipping away from mines was such an emptying feeling, as if my connection with him slept away from my grasp forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I went to sleep that night hoping George's parting would have been a nightmare, and I cried the morning after when my brain took in that it was, in fact, very much real.

A heavily pregnant Fleur showed up that afternoon; she made me dinner and tried to cheer me up a little before making me get dressed so she could drag me out to look for flats in the Diagon Alley. It was an unsuccessful trip, but the Triwizard Tournament Champion wasn't about to give up so easily, so she came the next day, and the following, and on and on for a week.

As if summoned by the woman's will to find me a new home, we found a cheap, acceptable apartment near the shop.

I purchased it instantly, and soon enough I was moving out my things with Bill's help, to stop his wife from helping me herself.

"That's the last one, right?" Bill questioned, nodding at the bag laying on the couch with a box in his hands.

"Yup." I pulled it up and hung it on my shoulder.

"Need anything else?" I shook my head no. "Alright then I'll leave this at your place and apparate back home." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "I know it's none of my business but... Whatever happened between you two— it's fixable, believe me."

"I really don't think so." I muttered, gripping the bag's strap.

"It is," he repeated, adjusting the box in his arms. "just don't give up." He gave me a small, reassuring smile and disapparated.

Maybe he was right, maybe it was fixable. Taking a look around the now emptier apartment, I thought it surely didn't seem like it, but hope is the last thing you lose, right?

In a final attempt of getting him back, I grabbed a notebook from the bag and teared a page off it; I left the bag besides me as I knelt down and reached for a pencil forgotten over the coffee table.

Three Days Later

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I entered the apartment— it was quiet, similar to a cemetery, just like the first time I stepped on the apartment after the war.

This time, it was empty, though.

Y/n didn't rush to the door when I opened it.

She didn't catch me when I fell on my knees and broke down to tears.

I was alone.

After Godric knows how long I managed to get myself back to my feet. I passed Y/n's old room as fast as I had first passed Fred's room months ago.

Once I got to my room and lay down on my bed, my mind cleared up enough for me to realise that I would be seeing Y/n the next day —at least once— at the shop.

"Fuck." I muttered, burying my face on my pillow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

He had asked me not to leave the office while he was in the shop.

He had explicitly asked me not to, but I needed to know if he had read my letter— no, I need to know if I had taken a step in the right direction by writing the letter.

So there I was, descending the stairs in his direction, and taking my time to do so since he was talking with a couple of clients.

"Y/n!" Verity rushed to me with what seemed a defective portable swamp. "I need your help with this," My eyes, still on George, caught the way his head snapped in my direction with sheer fear on it. "I've got a woman there threatening with suing us because the swamp send one of her children to St. Mungo!" The girl managed to get my attention with her anxious rambling.

"She can't do that." George, who had probably caught on Verity's words, spoke before I could. "She agreed on our shop policy." He reminded her, walking to stand by my side.

"I already told her that Mister Weasley, but she said she's 'not taking the words of a pipsqueak'." She replied in a whisper.

"She said what?" George questioned in disbelief.

"I'm gonna shove that lawsuit up her arse." I spoke, spotting the completely out of place middle aged woman who stood in front of Verity's till. "Send her to the office." Verity looked at me and then at George for confirmation, who simply gave her a nod.

Once Verity left, I turned to the ginger, whose warm eyes were already fixed on me. "How are you?" He inquired in a way that let me see it was out of politeness, which made my hopes die a little.

"Been better." I replied, ready to somehow test the waters. "How about you?"

"Same, I suppose." George didn't even try to put on a happy face, and I started to get anxious; there was no way he would have missed the note —I left it on the kitchen table— so that meant he had read it and- "You should go back to the office."

My heart attempted to hold onto the possibility of him not having read the note, but my brain knew better than that. "Alright." I nodded and went back to my workplace; I would deal with that woman and after that, I would prepare a resignation letter.

George was right, we needed to be apart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't that bad, I lied to myself, sitting down on the sofa while undoing the tie's knot.

My mind was about to begin the overthinking of Y/n's words when my stomach growled. Without noticing, I had gone without a single meal for the entire day.

I listened to my body and moved to the kitchen to prepare myself something. While the stove heated up, I turned around and took a look at the kitchen; just like the rest of the rooms, it seemed gloomier without Y/n lighting up the apartment.

Stop thinking about her.

My eyes landed on a piece of paper with one of Y/n's rings over it. Before properly realising it, I was sitting down on one of the chairs and reading what had been written in the scrapped page.

Dear George,

I know what happened is on both of us, but I can't help but blame myself, as selfish as it might sound.

You don't know this, but while at Hogwarts, I found you and Fred rather annoying— I didn't understand why everyone seemed to fancy you so much. Then, you hired me to work in this amazing shop, and I understood.

During these past two years I had the pleasure and honour to call you my friend; you made my life much better, I'd like to think I did the same.

I wanted to apologise for everything I've done since New Year. I'm so very sorry for falling in love with you. Though it was something so easy to happen, I never thought it would go this far.

I don't know what is this letter (a proper goodbye? I don't know), but I want need you to know that I never wanted to harm you nor our friendship, and that I'm still going to be here for you, feelings aside.

Love,

Y/n.

I re-read the fourth paragraph at least five times before taking it in.

She had fallen in love with me.

That's what she had meant to say when she spoke to me about the Amortentia— that she had smelled my scent— Oh no.

My reply— she probably thought it was unrequited; she probably thought I had kicked her out because she was in love with me and not quite the opposite.

Without thinking twice, I ran down to the office with the letter clutched in my hand; she had to be there, she was always the last one to leave.

She had to be there.

I was so focused on reaching the office on time that I missed Y/b's figure exiting the shop.

I slammed the door open, just to find the table's surface, which used to be full of Y/n's things, clean in its entirety, aside from an envelope which had written on it 'resignation'.

"No."

READER'S P. O. V.

I had just left the small box with my things over the coffee table, and was taking off my shoes when an apparition noise followed by a couple of bangs on my front door made me jolt.

Out of a sad habit I, among the rest of the Order, had gotten during the war, I grabbed my wand and approached the door.

My arm fell limply on my side while I stared into George's eyes, which seemed to hold back a storm of mixed emotions.

"C-can we talk?" My gaze then fell on the paper his hand was gripping, and that I assumed was my resignation.

"George, listen, I can't—"

"I'm in love with you."

Words had stumbled out of his mouth in panic, and the only thing I could reply was, "What?"

#george weasley headcanon #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x you #george weasley x reader angst #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x ravenclaw!reader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley smut #george x reader smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #things never go as planned

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riverthunder · 4 years

Text

The Stars in Our Skies

For @thespacecryptid for the @ironstrangehaven Gift Exchange ❤️

Link to AO3 Post: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28625829

Notes:

Alrighty, so first I need to apologize to my giftee, TheSpaceCryptid. I tried to finish your gift early, and I want to say I had it done sometime between the 15th and the 20th? And after a lazy Christmas Day I went into my Google Drive to post this and it was just... gone. I have no idea what happened. So I had to redo the whole thing from scratch. In some ways I like this version a lot more, though- and in others I think the original was a little better? But overall I'm pleased with this.

You had a lot of ideas I absolutely adore- like Asexual Stephen (insert my heart eyes here), and stargazing dates, and these two being professors. Just. Mwah. Beautiful.

Also, I'm tagging this as Teen due to some discussions of sex- nothing graphic, though, obviously- since I headcanon ace Stephen as a sex-repulsed asexual like myself.

I hope you like the fic and your bonus artwork to make up for how late this ended up being! Apologies again!!

The Stars in Our Skies

Tony stared just a little bit as the new astronomy teacher strolled into the break room and began fixing himself a cup of oolong tea. He had a beautiful face, with sharp cheekbones and a well-defined jaw, as well as piercing, beautiful eyes. Tony also had a funny feeling that he’d met the astronomy teacher many times before, but he couldn’t put a finger on where.

He knew Professor Strange had been a surgeon back in the day, and he was sure he’d seen him at some of the galas he’d attended in his youth. But it felt like he’d seen Strange more recently than that.

He was very obviously distracted during his class, and he gave up on whatever physics explanation he’d been trying to give the poor engineering class he was clearly confusing, and told them to just go ahead and work on homework, giving them a bonus extra two days on his latest paper as well to top it off while he sat back down at his desk to think.

At the end of the period, two of his best students came to sit next to him.

“Everything okay, Professor Stark?” Peter asked while Harley gave him a knowing smile.

“Fine, boys, just a little off my rhythm is all,” Tony said, trying to look unconcerned.

“You sure?” Harley asked innocently. “Sure it’s not something else? A certain someone, maybe? Like… I dunno… the hot new astronomy professor?”

Tony had been taking a drink of coffee and choked on it at Harley’s words, which was decidedly not good, since the coffee was still piping hot thanks to his specially designed insulated mug. “I- you- what?” Tony spluttered.

“What?” Harley asked innocently. “He’s kinda like you, Professor. A silver fox. He’s smokin’.”

“Harley!” Peter said indignantly. “You can’t say that about a professor!”

Harley shrugged. “Too bad, it’s true, Pete. ‘Sides, Professor Stark should come to terms with the idea.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at Harley’s tone. “Oh really?” He asked. “Why?”

Harley shrugged innocently. “Because I wrote Professor Strange a note in your handwriting and hid it in his desk drawer asking him to go on a date with you tonight at 8:00.”

Tony stood up so quickly his coffee mug almost spilled all over the papers he’d collected from his first period, but before he could shout at Harley at the top of his lungs, a certain handsome professor was standing in his doorway.

“Oh,” Stephen said, looking from Tony to their students. “I’m sorry, are you busy? I could come back another time.”

He was holding a piece of paper that had obviously been folded a few times in one of his trembling hands.

“No, we were just leaving,” Harley said sweetly.

Peter felt himself blushing for some reason as he passed Professor Stark a quick note of his own. “Um, I just wanted to know if you’d please check my work on these chemistry notes,” he said.

Tony glanced down at them. A new web-fluid design. He nodded to Peter. “Yes. Yes. I’ll look them over and e-mail you with any necessary changes.”

“Thanks!”

Without another word, Peter seized Harley’s upper arm and dashed out of the room, while Harley laughed and tried to protest, clearly thrilled with watching Tony flounder in the presence of his crush. You could hardly blame him. Seeing Tony Stark, Iron Man, who was a professor for fun, flounder, was a rare and almost unheard of sight.

“Hello, Professor Stark,” Strange said politely, and Tony felt his face heating up. “Um- hi- I-”

“I am very sorry,” Stephen said, setting the note in his hand down on Tony’s desk. Tony caught a glimpse of the handwriting- fucking identical to his own. That damn Keener brat. When Tony got his hands on him-

“But I am afraid I must decline your invitation.”

Oh.

Tony hadn’t even known he was asking Stephen on a date a few minutes ago, but somehow Stephen’s words still stung.

“Oh,” he said out loud. “Uh… busy?”

“No,” Stephen replied.

Yeah, that definitely hurt.

“Oh.” Tony glanced at the note and quickly plucked it off the desk. “Okay. That’s fine, I understand. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with this.”

“You didn’t,” Stephen told him. “It was actually very flattering. But I don’t think you would like to be in a relationship with me, so I am afraid I must decline.”

Wait, what?

“Uh… sorry, you lost me,” Tony said awkwardly.

Stephen chuckled. “I identify as asexual,” he explained. “Specifically, a sex-repulsed asexual. And from what I know of your past...er, love life, I think it’s better if I decline the invitation altogether. I don’t want to upset you because you want to have sex and I don’t.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “So it is an ace ring!” He said, pointing at the black ring on Stephen’s middle finger on his right hand. “Rhodey called me crazy and said it was a swinger’s ring!”

Stephen blinked in surprise and glanced down at his ring. “Er- yes, it is,” he agreed.

“Cool! Okay.” Tony shot him a smirk. “In that case- are you an ace of spades?”

Stephen looked shocked. “You- you know about the card suits?”

“Sure do,” Tony said proudly.

Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Okay then- who uses the ace of diamonds?”

“Demisexuals and demiromantic asexuals,” Tony said. “Ace of clubs is for graysexual and grayromantic, ace of spades is for aromantic asexuals, and ace of hearts is for romantic asexuals.”

He grinned, and Stephen had to crack a smile. “Very impressive.”

“So, what’s your suit, Doc?” Tony asked, grinning at him, and Stephen had to resist the urge to let that smile widen.

“Ace of hearts. I’m a romantic asexual.”

Tony grinned. “I can work with that.”

Stephen allowed his face to fall into a small frown. “Tony, I-”

“Look, Doc, I don’t need sex to be happy,” Tony said. “I’ve had loads in my day, yeah, but I’m a big boy and frankly, I think it’s about time I had a relationship that wasn’t so focused on it. If you’re good with a romantic relationship, I can be happy with one, too.”

Stephen chuckled despite himself. “Persistent, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Tony said, a bit smugly.

Stephen chuckled. “Very well.” He wrote something on a small scrap of paper and offered it to Tony, taking back the note Harley had written. “You can pick me up there, at 8:00.”

“I’ll be there,” Tony said, snatching the fake letter back. “And I’ll give you something actually written by me then.”

~(*)~

Tony pulled up to the house on Bleecker Street. Huh… looked kinda like a museum, to be honest.

The elegant Professor Strange was already walking to meet the car. “Right on time,” he teased, climbing in. He looked like he was putting on a brave face as he entered, and Tony took note of the way Stephen’s hand reached for the cabinet handle on the inside of the door.

Tony bit his lip. “I just like to be on time to things,” he said casually, placing his right hand on the console if Stephen wanted to hold it too, or instead.

Stephen nodded. “Well, I appreciate it. So, what’s the plan for our date?”

“I think you told Professor Verity that you like ramen from Samurai Noodle, right?”

Stephen smiled. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Great! Then we’re getting take-out,” Tony told him, grinning to himself. “And I have a great idea of where we can eat it.”

“Oh? And where is that, exactly?”

“It’s a secret,” Tony said, smirking. “Are you ready to go?”

Stephen nodded, looking amused as he took Tony’s free hand on the console. “That I am. Let’s go, Professor Stark.”

Tony snorted as he started the car. “Alright.”

He tried to sound cool, but he knew that he had started blushing.

~(*)~

“So what exactly are we doing in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night?” Stephen asked as Tony laid a large blanket out in one of the large fields near the Avengers Compound.

“Why?” Tony asked, smirking at him. “Don’t you trust me?”

Stephen chuckled. “Is that your way of saying you’re secretly an ax murderer about to eviscerate me in the middle of this field, free of any witnesses?”

“Ouch,” Tony complained. “You’re really good at wounding someone’s ego, you know that, Strange?”

“So what’s the real reason we’re out here, then?” Stephen asked, amused.

“Lay down,” Tony ordered, pointing to the blanket. “And look up.”

Stephen did so, and gasped in surprise. “The stars….” He breathed, sounding mesmerized.

“That’s right,” Tony said, smiling at him. “Not to easy to see them in the city. But I figured you’re the Astronomy Professor… maybe you’d like to see them more clearly? Maybe teach me something I don’t know?”

“Lay down,” Stephen ordered quietly. “There… Orion the Hunter. Can you see his belt? The three stars, just here.”

“Oh… right,” Tony said. “Isn’t he that dude everyone says Artemis loved?”

“A common misconception these days,” Stephen murmured. “In many of the myths, Artemis was actually the one to kill him, on purpose, for harassing her friends, the Pleiades, or she would encourage someone else to kill him for her, such as Apollo. He’d summon a giant scorpion to kill Orion, which many believe is Scorpio, as the two constellations aren’t around at the same time. When Scorpio rises, Orion vanishes.”

“Cool,” Tony said softly, staring up at the night sky with Stephen. “What else can you see?”

“Sirius, the Dog Star, Orion’s hunting dog,” Stephen said, pointing to the bright star. You can see the constellation Taurus there. Gemini there. Monoceros is there, very faint. You see? Look closely.”

“Beautiful,” Tony murmured, resting his head on Stephen’s chest as he gazed up at the sky.

Stephen smiled to himself and wrapped an arm around him. “Hmm. Not as beautiful as you,” he murmured in a thoughtful voice, making Tony blush.

~(*)~

“Was that an okay date?” Tony wondered as he drove Stephen back to Bleecker Street.

Stephen smiled at him. “You don’t know?”

“Not really,” Tony admitted. “And I kinda wanna… you know. Do this again.”

Stephen chuckled as they reached the museum door. Wait… how come even the building looked sort of familiar? And the street…?

“Well, in that case… it was a perfect date, Professor Stark.” Stephen leaned over, kissing his lips gently. “And I expect to go on another one with you very soon.”

“Sure,” Tony said, a little breathlessly, his eyes wide as he stared at Stephen. “Whatever you want….”

“Perfect.” Stephen smiled at him, and suddenly something long, red, and fluttering was at his throat, gently tugging him out of the car. “Alright, Levi, alright. I’m coming,” Stephen murmured, reaching out to stroke the red fabric.

Tony stared at it. A sentient cloak….

Wait- was he-?

Stephen was already disappearing inside the door when Tony found his voice, so he couldn’t ask him directly. He sat in the dark of his car, dumbfounded, and feeling his heart pounding. Was that the kiss, his sudden epiphany, or both?

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Boss?” Chirped the cool Irish accent.

“Am… am I dating the Sorcerer Supreme?”

Extra Notes:

To clarify the "Stephen is the Sorcerer Supreme but Tony doesn't recognize him but is sure he's met him before" thing- I headcanon that Stephen's magic acts as a sort of "barrier" to his identity- and just protects his identity for him. I got the idea from Cute High Earth Defense Club actually- where the villains and heroes can't really recognize each other as specific students when they meet due to "radio interference" almost- but in my Stephen headcanon, it's more that the magic puts a sort of veil over Stephen, so Tony is sure he's met him before, but he can't put his finger on where until he recognizes Cloakie and goes "oh shit, Stephen's the Sorcerer Supreme I've been battling monsters with???"

#Ironstrange #IronStrange fic #IronStrange Art #chara’s fics #chara’s art #gift art #gift fic #tony stark #anthony edward stark #stephen strange #stephen vincent strange

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katastroficwriter · 6 years

Note

Ouma: I'm sorry, Kiibo...It's my fault you ended being a weapon to the gorvement... Kiibo: ....It is fine...

Tags: Dystopian AU, Violence

“I’m sorry, Kiibo…It’s my fault you ended up being a weapon to the government…“

“…It is fine.”

In this world, people lived their carefree lives within a great dome. Inside the dome was safe. Peaceful. Normal. It was as if nothing was amiss.

Outside the dome, however, is the complete opposite. Death, carnage, war…all the unpleasant things you could ever think of…are found beyond its walls. The truth is, the world used to be a peaceful place. After a long history of conquests and colonization–the world achieved peace, or so humanity thought. However, due to the rapid depletion of resources, political unrest…tensions between countries eventually led to a set of small-scale wars between countries, until finally, it erupted into a large-scale war known as…

World War V3.

Japan had reverted back to its former nature as a hermit country, but not without any preventive measures of making sure that no outsiders enter the country. It was all for the sake of the people, so everyone can live their everyday lives in peace–blind to all the bloodshed happening Outside. To delude the masses that the world was still a peaceful place. And to make sure it stays this way, those who disrupt the peace…simply disappear.

From an outsider’s point of view, Japan’s currently the most peaceful place to be in right now. However, one of the downsides to this kind of lifestyle is the slow but steady dwindling of resources. Being unable to trade with other countries just like how it was centuries ago, the Japanese Government had to make do with what was available within the country.

Of course, human resources belong to this category as well. With Japan’s only line of defense being the military. Many of them leave the Dome, but only few return. It was only natural that it would be in need of men if they wanted to keep Japan safe. The soldiers who risked their lives day in and day out just to ensure that the people Inside could live peacefully were seen as heroes.

Which is exactly why there are soldiers currently roaming around in the slums. It was the perfect place to look for new recruits. Offer the poor some money in exchange for joining and the army and they’ll bite. And should they die in the line of duty, no one will miss them. No one would cry for them. They were completely expendable, which makes them the perfect recruits.

…Not to mention there were rumors that the recent kidnappings were caused by the army, which makes living in the streets dangerous if you don’t want to be taken away by them. If you belonged to the middle class and live in a cozy home, you’ll be fine. But children on the streets have to make do.

“All clear?” Ouma asked, peeking out of the trash bags.

Kiibo nodded, eyes still trained outside of the alley. “We need to be careful if we don’t want to get caught.”

“Yeah,” the raven haired child moved to dust his clothes before picking up a plastic bag filled with assorted bread he stole together with Kiibo. “We should go, they’re probably starving already.”

The albino looked over his shoulder and smiled. “We can go now.”

The monochrome duo stealthily made their way back to their little hideout, where their friends were waiting for them. DICE. That was what they called their little band of lost children. The original members being Kiibo and Ouma respectively, with Ouma being its leader. They originally meant to be a duo of some sorts but ended up taking in other abandoned children around their age(or younger) and made sure that nothing bad happened to them.

“Welcome back leaders!”

Everyone greeted them with big smiles, which grew wider at the sight of food. They all cheered and gave their thanks by tackling their monochrome leaders to the ground with a hug and some gentle noogies here and there.

To think that it all started when Kiibo first found Ouma collapsed in an alley and helped him get back on his feet, both figuratively and literally and were inseparable ever since. They usually had shifts when it comes to scrounging for their meals. But with the military breathing down their necks, Ouma made sure to take as much supplies as possible so they wouldn’t have to go out too much. The risk of having any of them taken away is too high, considering a good number of them were still new to living their lives on the street. Spending their daily lives fighting tooth and nail to survive while protecting the people who mattered to them. That’s how their days usually went.

However, things started to change when the very people they were trying to protect started getting sick due to the upcoming winter season. Without money, they won’t be able to have them treated. Without warm clothes and warm food, they’ll never get better. It’s bad enough that taking care of their hygiene is hard to accomplish due to their already poor living conditions, and this was a huge concern for the raven-haired leader.

Once everyone was asleep, Ouma pulled Kiibo to the farthest corner of the abandoned warehouse. With a determined look in his face, he whispered.

“I’m going to join the army.”

Cyan eyes widened in shock at the declaration. “The…army? What are you saying all of a sudden, Kokichi…?”

Ouma grabbed the albino by the shoulders, “They offer food, money, shelter, and healthcare, to every recruit’s families. If–if I join, we could offer everyone in DICE a better life. Me alone should be more than enough…that’s why I’m going to leave DICE to you, Kiibo.”

“No.”

“What?” purple eyes stared at the albino in shock. Unused to hearing his dear friend speak in such a cold manner.

Kiibo shrugged the raven haired child’s off his shoulders. “I said no. I can’t let you go through with this, Kokichi. They–we, need you. You’re our leader…that’s why we can’t afford to lose you.”

“What are you talking about? You’re a leader too! You can take care of them even without me,” Ouma grasped the albino by the shirt. “Why are you so against this, Kiibo? I’m doing this for everyone! Are you saying you’d prefer having everyone live like this forever? Do you want them to die because of this, Kiibo?”

The albino flinched before looking down and clenched his fists. “…I…can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t lead them as well as you do, Kokichi. No one can take your place–not even me!”

“…Kiibo…” Ouma moved to hold his hand to calm him down. Doing this always calmed his friend down. “I know you can do it. You were the one who saved me before, what difference does this make?”

“…”

Ouma squeezed his hand. “Come on. I promise to come back. You can hold the big leader position for me while I’m gone. And when I come back, I’ll snatch it right back from you. What do you say?” he smiled.

“S…ry…”

Amethyst eyes widened. “Hm?”

Kiibo lifted his tear-stricken face as he squeezed his friend’s hand back. “I’m sorry, Kokichi…but I just can’t let you.”

“What–?”

Everything happened too fast. At first he was worried for his friend since it’s rare for him to cry, even if it’s just between the two of them. But the next thing he knew, his hand got pulled and bent in a way it wasn’t supposed to and pain spiked up his right arm as half of his face was forcefully pressed against the concrete. It hurts. It hurts. IT HURTS!!!

Ouma wanted to scream, but he didn’t want to wake the others. Especially not to the sight of Kiibo breaking his arm. The raven-haired child resorted to gritting his teeth instead as he cried. Why, why, why is this happening? Why is Kiibo doing this? Kiibo would never hurt him. Kiibo would…never…why would he…

The shorter child fainted as the pain got unbearable–the last thing he remembers was the sound of his bones snapping and his dear friend’s hushed cries of “I’m sorry.”

Kiibo was nowhere to be found the next day.

Everyone was panicked when they found Ouma in a near-catatonic state as he was seated by the wall in the morning. His face was dirtied, and his arm was carefully wrapped in a sling made out of their albino leader’s favorite black and white handkerchief. No one knew what happened, no matter how many times they asked, their raven-haired leader wouldn’t respond at all.

They now knew better than to ask about the albino’s whereabouts after Ouma snapped at them for the first time for prodding too much. But despite his utter refusal to even talk about the missing albino, everyone noticed how well their leader took care of the black and white patterned handkerchief. To the point where he’d start panicking or even get angry if someone ever misplaced it.

Since Ouma couldn’t do any work in his current condition, the other children who were able had to shoulder his usual duties. But without Kiibo’s guidance and Ouma’s cooperation, they were at a loss and finding food was difficult. They weren’t as used to the winding streets of their neighborhood compared to their two leaders, so most of the time, they barely had enough food to eat. And the fact that Ouma refused to eat just so someone else could have a bite didn’t help their peace of mind at all.

It took a little over a month for Ouma’s arm to heal and for him to return to his usual demeanor. Their usual routine settled back into place once he got things back to order and taught everyone the basics. Everything was back to the way it was before, save for Kiibo’s absence. No one was aware of the sleepless nights Ouma subjected himself to, the only thing on his mind was Kiibo as well as questions he never got the answers to. He winced, moving to rub his right arm to ease the pain. He was already more or less healed, but whenever he thought of his old friend, he would feel a sharp pain spread through his arm just like back then. It was more of a psychological kind of pain rather than physical, it was something he’s learned to ignore as the days went by, which is why he never told the others about it. He didn’t want them to worry over him even more.

He was staring out the lone window of the warehouse one tranquil night, his eyes were trained on the artificial moon as he drew slow and soothing circles on his right arm. His breath hitched at the memory of Kiibo hurting him. It hurt. It still hurt. But it’s not supposed to. Why…why would Kiibo do something like that to him? He wouldn’t do something like that without reason. There has to be a reason!

“Where are you…Kiibo?” he clenched his fists as he cried silently. “I…can’t do this without you, either…stupid…!”

It was only months after did they get to hear news regarding Kiibo. It came in the form of a thick, white envelope addressed to their leader. Everyone was confused at first, considering the fact no one should have known that they were living in the warehouse. Which only speaks volumes of the authenticity of the the letter–Kiibo personally left it in the warehouse for them to find.

Inside the letter was a small slip of paper that had what looked like an address scrawled on it along with a thick wad of cash. As soon as the leader saw its contents, everything clicked into place for him. Suddenly overcome with intense feelings he didn’t know the name of, he launched the envelope against the wall as hard as he could, letting the bills spill out of the envelope as soon as it was airborne.

Kiibo had joined the military in his place.

Ouma’s expression darkened, his eyesight was shaking and out of focus and his body was wracked with tremors as soon as he processed such fact. ‘The reason why he broke my arm was to…!”

“Leader, what’s wrong?” one of them worriedly asked.

Ouma’s snapped up to look at his companions. He clenched his fists hard enough to break skin. “…I know where he is now.”

“Huh? You do?”

“Does that mean we can see Kiibo again?!”

“Far from it!” the raven-haired child snapped, eyes widening in shock before he regained his composure. “…It’s the opposite. We…might not be able to see him ever again.”

That was how everyone learned of what transpired about that fateful night that left their precious leader broken and hurt. And even with such knowledge, they found it difficult to blame the albino. The frustration Ouma’s felt had washed over everyone. They were all at a loss.

“What do we…do with this?” the ash-blonde boy asked. “It looks like Kiibo wanted us to go to this address. Not to mention the money…”

Ouma already knew what Kiibo’s intentions were. They were partners for the longest time after all. He should be able to tell as much. But this–how could he accept something like this without saying a word? Then again…with this money, everyone wouldn’t have to struggle with food, clothes, and their hygiene! He…he can’t possibly drag everyone down just because of his own selfish feelings…

Ouma turned around, “…Not now. There are still some military men roaming about. That could be a trap to lure us out. Once the army is gone, we can check the address out.” A twinge of guilt blossomed in his chest. No matter how bad lying to his friends–his family, made him feel, Ouma knew he needed this lie. He needed more time for himself to think things through, to help him heal.

A few more months had passed and now the military was no longer roaming their area. There were more news of missing children spreading among the squatters, however.

‘It seems the rumors had proven to be true,’ Ouma thought bitterly as he led the others through a secret path he and Kiibo found. It was the best way to travel without grabbing too much attention. After all, people would surely be suspicious seeing a flock of street kids enter what may or may not be their new home, right? That right there only spells trouble. The envelope was carefully stashed inside his right sleeve. The weight of it against his arm was a grim reminder to be careful of his surroundings.

“Leader! I see it!”

Ouma’s head snapped upwards, his eyes trained on what looks like a two-storey home. Suddenly he wasn’t sure if they got the right address, and it looked like the others were feeling uncomfortable as well. It felt like they were…outsiders. Like they were trespassing in someone else’s home, despite knowing that the letter stated otherwise. Before hesitation could settle in the young leader’s mind, the door to their ‘home’ had cracked open, revealing the face of a woman in her late 30s.

“Oh! It seems you have finally arrived. We’ve been expecting you, Ouma-kun. Come inside.”

A house, and some guardians to look after them…just how much of a worrywart could Kiibo possibly be?

Ouma took a deep breath before signalling the others to follow. The woman flashed them a warm smile as she stepped aside and let the children enter. Nothing bad will happen–he trusts Kiibo. He knows they’ll be okay.

[Present Time.]

“Leader, are you okay?!”

Ouma turned to look at his twin-tailed subordinate and family, “It’s nothing…I just got scratched a little. Anyway, what’s the status? Why are we still stuck waiting here?”

“From what I’ve heard from conversations between some soldiers…it seems the army is making use of robots to help them in the war. And right now they’re waiting for that unit to regroup here.”

Purple eyes widened at the new information. “Robots…? Huh. Who would’ve thought.”

“Mhm! Also…” The young woman looked around before leaning closely, “We already looked around for him, but it seems like he’s not here. But the others are still checking around just in case we missed him.”

“I see…” Ouma hummed. “He was probably assigned elsewhere. The breach was too sudden after all. They need all the manpower they can get.”

“We’ll be okay, right?” another voice chimed in. They both turned to look at the long haired girl, clutching the hem of her skirt. “…I was supposed to meet up with my friends at the amusement park today…but suddenly…” tears welled up in her eyes. “M-my friends…”

Ouma hastily moved from his seat and engulfed the girl in his arms and rubbed her back. “Shhh…it’s okay. You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. The army has Kiibo with them. We’ll definitely make it.”

“B-big brother…” she sobbed. She was the youngest in their group–but she had the misfortune of watching her friends get slaughtered by the Outsiders. She would have been next, if the military didn’t arrive on time. Her experience of living in the slums helped her survive for a bit longer since it taught her how to hide from pursuers.

“He’s already here?”

“Yeah. He just arrived ten minutes ago.”

“Alright, we better hand him our report so it would speed things up.”

Ouma instinctively eavesdropped on the conversation of passing soldiers, his hands continued its ministrations on his adoptive sister’s back. ‘Him?’

“Ah, there he is. Excuse me, Captain Iidabashi!”

Ouma froze, and it seems his companions heard it as well. The raven-haired man hastily scanned the vicinity for a certain albino he hasn’t seen in years. The temporary shelter was quite crowded with civilians, so he had to stand on the tips of his toes, trying to get a glimpse of the ahoge Kiibo always sported.

“Leader, wait!”

Ouma didn’t. He couldn’t. He needed to see him right now. He weaved his way through the crowd with ease, eyes focused on the backs of the two soldiers who were heading in the same direction as he was. He got knocked around quite a bit, and even lost sight of the soldiers, but there he was.

The familiar sight of his windswept, snow-white hair, made him feel nervous. Kiibo had his back turned towards him at the time and was conversing with the two soldiers from earlier. Ouma didn’t notice anything amiss until he took a good look at his friend.

Kiibo wasn’t wearing the same uniform as the two soldiers–it wasn’t the fact that Kiibo clearly held a high enough position to be held in high regard. Rather…his body was covered with metal plates, and something about his movements felt a little off.

…Maybe he was overthinking things. It could just be a special armor the government helped the military develop to lessen the casualties in the military. That thought isn’t too far-fetched, considering the fact that the military apparently had robot soldiers fighting with them.

“Hey you! This isn’t a conversation a civilian should be privy to.”

Ouma flinched. ‘Huh…? When did I–?’

He had unconsciously worked towards them.

The albino’s head perked up before turning to look over his shoulder.

Ouma felt his blood run cold as soon as their eyes met.

Cold cyan eyes, pale skin that could be easily attributed to a corpse, dark lines under his eyes–it was Kiibo…but…it…it can’t be, right?

“Kokichi…!” the albino gasped.

Ouma fell to his knees, overwhelmed by too much information. That was it. That was the proof that this was real. Ahhh…his right arm is hurting again…

“Kokichi?! H-hang in there!”

His body was as hard and cold as the steel plates protecting his body. But his voice was just as warm and soft as he remembered.

Ouma fainted from the shock.

When he came to, he was back in his designated room, everyone was there this time. They were all asleep, obviously exhausted from the entire situation, and even more so with Ouma fainting as soon as he saw–

Knock. Knock.

His head perked up at the sudden noise. “Who is it?”

Instead of a verbal response, a slip of paper had slid under the crack of his door. Curious, Ouma carefully moved out of his bed to pick it up.

“It’s me. We need to talk.”

Ouma’s grip on the message tightened to the point of crumpling the paper. He took one last glance at the others before silently leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Not here. I don’t want them to worry.” Was all he said, eyes trained on the ground, refusing to look the albino in the eye.

Kiibo didn’t mind–he already expected such a reaction from the headstrong leader he’s always known. “Understood. I know a place where we can have some form of privacy.”

Kiibo’s stiff manner of speech honestly bothered him. It felt so off. So wrong. “Okay.”

Silence fell upon them, the only sound they could hear were their footsteps as Kiibo led him to the second floor of the shelter.

“…It seems you’ve grown taller than me over the past few years.”

“Huh? Oh…yeah…I guess…” mumbled Ouma.

Their conversation died there and then.

“We’re here.”

Ouma idly rubbed his right arm upon realizing that the albino led him to his own quarters. ‘Some form of privacy,’ he says. His quarters was straight up off-limits to non-combatants. Kiibo urged the raven-haired male to enter his room first before following. The first thing Ouma did as soon as they were both inside, was land a punch on him, catching both of them off-guard.

“Ko–”

“You asshole!” Ouma shouted, ignoring the pain in his knuckles. “How could you do this to me?!” The dam that kept his tears at bay for the past few years had easily crumbled the moment he got a better look at the albino. “You didn’t want me to join the army, and yet here you are now! You fucking hypocrite! You…you better have a damn good explanation for this!”

“…I knew that this would happen as soon as we meet again…” Kiibo murmured as he got up from his place on the floor. “That’s why I sought you out tonight. You have a lot of questions running in your mind, don’t you? I’ll answer all of them, I promise you.”

Ouma looked away, obviously still livid, but nodded anyway. He flinched when he felt cold fingers make contact with his bruised hand.

“But first we need to treat your hand before it gets worse. We don’t have much supplies here, it would be bad if your wound gets infected,” the albino led him to his bed and pulled out a first aid kit from his drawer and carefully disinfected the raven-haired male’s hand before wrapping bandages from his knuckles to the tips of his fingers.

“There,” Kiibo smiled.

He hated how easy it was for Kiibo to defuse his anger with just a smile. But there’s no way he’s going to admit it right at this moment. Once the albino was finished, he murmured out his thanks. The atmosphere grew cold the moment Kiibo returned the first aid kit to its proper place.

“Now then…what do you want to know?”

Purple eyes flicked up and gave the albino a pensive once-over. “…Your appearance. What…what happened to you?”

Kiibo inspected himself before returning his attention to his companion. “Ah. This…is the result of enlisting in the military.”

Ouma perked up at the information. “What? How could–but those soldiers earlier looked normal!”

Kiibo heaved a sigh as he took a seat on the bed, “…That…is something I must apologize for.”

“What do you mean?”

“I lied to you.” His cyan lenses glowed under the dim lighting of his room as he turned to look at the raven-haired male. “…It was a week before I left. While I was mapping out a route for the next supply run we were planning to go on, I heard two soldiers talking. They essentially talked about how the children they were going to recruit are supposed to undergo an experimental program. It was this.”

Kiibo stretched his arm for Ouma to touch and feel. Cold, hard, and lifeless…much like metal. “Building robots from scratch would take up too much of our current resources, not to mention the possible damage and maintenance it would require. And that’s how they came up with this idea where they’ll use the human body as a base, and will just install these parts to enhance our performance. Naturally, depending on how substantial these enhancements were, it would definitely stunt our growth, which is why they waited for our bodies to mature before conducting the operation.”

Ouma pursed his lips as he slowly dropped the albino’s arm. “…Why were those other soldiers normal?”

Kiibo leaned back, eyes on the ceiling. “Due to the escalating tension Outside, the government decided to stop making new cyborg soldiers so the military could focus on the war instead of dividing its attention between the battle and developing soldiers who would no doubt become stressed due to their new condition, which makes them unable to fight in the front lines anyway.”

“Why…did you have to go?” the raven resorted to bite his lip to stop himself from breaking down, which only proved to be futile. “You didn’t want me to enlist because of this, fine! But why did you have to go?!” he moved to wipe his tears on his sleeve. “All you had to do w-was…was tell me. You didn’t have to hurt me! I would have understand!”

Kiibo wordlessly pulled his dear friend into a hug, relieved that the other didn’t make any protest when he did so. “…I did what I thought I had to do. I didn’t want you to be subject to something like that…but what you said was true. If we lived our days on the streets, we would eventually die off one by one, and I didn’t want that. That’s when I thought that…if it’s for you–for everyone, I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

“I’m sorry, Kiibo…It’s my fault you ended up being a weapon to the government…“ murmured Ouma.

“…It is fine,” Kiibo closed his eyes as he rubbed soothing circles on his companion’s back. “Like I said…I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

Ouma powerlessly hit the albino on the shoulder. “You stupid worrywart…How many times did I tell you to worry about yourself once in a while…?”

Kiibo blinked a few times before chuckling–something he hasn’t done in years. “I lost count.”

“So…captain, huh. What’s the deal with that?” Ouma took this chance to inspect the interior of his friend’s room. It didn’t have much in it other than the essentials like the bed and the bedside drawer and the study desk. He noted the neat stack of paperwork that rested atop the wooden desk.

“Hmm…” hummed Kiibo. “I’m the last cyborg from the first Cyborg Unit. I’ve had more battle experience compared to the current ones we have right now. Other than battle experience however, I also have the most enhancements recorded in the database. I wasn’t all like this from the start, actually. To tell you the truth, the first thing they ‘enhanced’ was my left leg.”

“Just a leg?” Ouma’s eyes widened.

“It was a test to see how fast I could run even with just one enhanced leg,” the albino continued. “But due to my earlier rookie mistakes and several brushes with death, they had to enhance all the other parts of my body just to keep me alive. Others weren’t as lucky. They either died from the operation or the war itself.”

“…I see.”

“E-enough about me. Tell me more about you guys. How were you doing?” Kiibo didn’t even bother trying to hide his intention to change the subject. They haven’t seen each other in years, they have better things to talk about than war.

Ouma had a lot to tell him. About fifteen years worth of stories!

That’s how the tension between them dissipated, only leaving behind that same comfort they found in each other in their childhood years.

Ouma told him about their awkward days living in a proper home for the first few weeks, the even more awkward days of going to a high school after years of being homeschooled. How everyone smiled more and felt safer living in a home meant just for them.

“I was on my way to my part time job when this all happened, actually…” Ouma sighed.

“Oh…” Kiibo pursed his lips. “What kind of part-time job was it, if I may ask?”

The raven-haired male looked away while rubbing the back of his neck timidly. “…The bakery.”

Cyan eyes glowed in amusement. “Bread, huh. That sure takes me back–”

“Whatever!” Ouma fumed, face flushed from embarrassment rather than anger. “I wanted to…make up for that time.”

“It’s okay, Kokichi, I know you love bread. No need to be shy–”

“S-shut up! When did you start becoming so vocal, anyway?!”

Kiibo simply responded with a laugh.

“Captain, you are needed on the front lines. The Outsiders are making their way to the shelter!”

Kiibo stiffened as soon as he heard his subordinate’s voice in his earpiece. “…I have to go.”

“Huh? Wait why?”

Kiibo hastily made his way for the door, “I need to go. They’re coming. There’s a basement level, take everyone with you there. I’ll inform the other soldiers to start evacuating the civilians.”

“W-wait, Kiibo!” the cyborg turned to look over his soldier.

“What is it, Kokichi?”

“Come…home,” Ouma started. “You better come home with us after all of this!” he pulled the familiar checker-patterned handkerchief out of his pocket, which took the cyborg off-guard.

“Kokichi…so you still had it…” Kiibo smiled. “…I will. I promise I’ll come home.”

While most of his body got replaced with metal parts…he still had his heart. A heart that only beats for Ouma and their precious family.

[Year 0005]

Bing! Bong!

“I got it!” Ouma called, jogging towards the door. He didn’t bother checking the peephole before flinging the door wide open. World War V3 had already ended years ago with the biggest number of recorded casualties compared to the previous World Wars. Right now they were currently on their fifth year of peace since the war ended. The world leaders all decided to reset the calendar–a hard reset to help them start anew. Needless to say, the real sun was hotter and the real moon was twice as beautiful. He honestly didn’t think he’d be able to experience all of this in his lifetime.

“Kokichi…I’m home,” Kiibo smiled.

Ouma was left agape. When Kiibo told him how he was coming home that day, he had expected him in his military garb. But instead, what he got was a more human-looking Kiibo, the only tell-tale sign of his status as a cyborg were his glowing cyan lenses.

“Y-your appearance–”

“Yes, well…they had to uninstall all of my weapons in accordance with the World Treaty,” Kiibo rubbed the back of his neck out of nervousness. “They offered to cover what’s left behind in synthetic skin after that, and I accepted.”

“Ahh…”

“LEADER IS HOME!” “GUYS! KIIBO’S FINALLY HOME!”

“W-woah wait hold on calm down you guys!” Ouma lost his footing as he got tackled along with Kiibo. That’s how they ended up buried under a tangled mess of limbs and giggling young adults.

Kiibo laughed, “I’m home, everyone.”

Ouma eventually found himself laughing along with the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, “…Welcome home, Kiibo.”

Notes: Sorry for taking so long to fill this prompt. This needed a lot of brainstorming that I wasn’t ready for. akfjsd I hope you didn’t give up on me. I also hope that you’ll like this one, anon!

#katastrofic reply #ndrv3 #kiibouma #kiibo #ouma kokichi #katastrofic writing #this took too long akshfw

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rpbetter · 3 years

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Hmm.. I don't why I even bother with my mutuals. I'm the only one who engages with them. Yet, when I send a simple cool starter meme to a mutual they don't reply to mine, but other people. This has been happening for several months, it's a small rpc, but the fandom is large. Whenever I reblog a meme I don't ever expect anyone to send me anything that's their choice, but its quite dishearting when my mutuals doesn't send any. Only one or two do sometimes five, while I'm nice enough to send it in their askbox. Sometimes I wonder if its because I don't post my fanart on my blog or I write a popular character; some rpers have a negative stigma against.. which is unfair and wrong.. Its so depressing. I don't know why I'm sad I'm in my 30s I should not be feeling this way. Or perhaps I'm being taken advantage of due to how genuine and considerate I am.. its like they sit back and do nothing while I do the work. God I hope not. I'm very chill and respect my mutuals. It just seems as though I'm being lead on and I'm afraid to express how I feel.

I'm really sorry you're feeling like this, Anon, I don't know if anything I have to say will help, but maybe it'll at least be helpful that you've gotten to express it somewhere! I'm definitely going to try, though.

Unfortunately, all of this is way too common. You're not at all alone in feeling this way, any of it! I think we've all had the experience of what amounts to being in one-sided RP, if we haven't, it's because we haven't yet. You'd think that being in a smaller area of the RPC that it would make this less likely to happen, but I think it can be worse sometimes in this situation because people in smaller circles have a tendency to become insular in a way that can be really bad.

It isn't usually intentional, you just become very comfortable with this smaller number of people and your relationships with them, everyone ends up with a sort of role within it. We establish in our minds that muns a, b, and c are our go-to writing partners, b and c are those we always send to or answer memes from, a we always interact with extra OOC, and so on. When you're muse d, your efforts go nowhere, you're not the mutual for any of it in their minds.

There probably is something making this easier, though, and you might very well be right about you being genuine and considerate being a factor. As much as that is the way to be, it can act against you as well if you're being viewed not as just a nice, considerate mun, but as someone who just exists to quietly support others. People could be viewing you as so relaxed and without demand that it doesn't matter to you much, or that even if it does, you're not a priority compared to the mutuals they might be concerned about dropping them if they don't give enough attention to them.

To that end, there is honestly not much you can do. Anything you say on the dash is likely to come across as suddenly too demanding or guilting, and coming to them individually to ask if there is something you could be doing for more interactions might not be seen as a genuinely no-pressure question. I'd recommend, if there are any changes you end up enacting in order to help combat all of this, that you post a very pleasant message saying, essentially, "I've made some updates and I'm looking to do some new threads, if anyone is interested, here is my meme tag! If you'd like me to send you a meme, comment what your meme tag is so I can."

That way, you're making them aware that you have changed some things (you can even post about those specific changes so they can all see if those are things that they felt were holding them back from interacting), directly stating you want/are seeking new interactions with them, and giving them two options to start that up quickly. Nothing guilt-trippy about it, just informative and direct, but polite still.

Now, about those possible changes, because there might be some other factors compounding this situation.

Do your current mutuals seem to be just meme based? I mean, do they primarily interact only through memes, or do they prefer to do some plotting first? It could be that they don't feel like responding to the starter meme coming from you is going to turn into a lasting thread if they require some plotting. It's possible that they started out just doing memes, but as time has gone, they've changed...and not mentioned it.

For example, I do require plotting or established interactions between mun and muse alike before I'll do a starter-style meme with someone. That's because I want it to be a longer-lasting thread, and I don't have to do plotting with these muns to make that happen. I also put that in the tags on the incredibly rare occasion I reblog one because that's the polite thing to do, but they may feel afraid that they'll be accused of favoritism or elitism if they do that. I'm not saying that's right, it's not, it's unfair and kind of mean to ignore people for their failure to do something you require that you're not telling them about, but it could be part of what is happening.

If they have open starters, do starter calls, that they're also not responding to (or have things in their rules about plotting) that could be a big part of this issue. They'd rather you react to the open starters, or contact them about writing a starter, and/or contact them for plotting.

There is also the possibility that the memes you're sending do not seem, to them, like situations that are either going to work out or that are appealing from your muse. Obviously, you thought so, or you wouldn't have sent it! It's always hard to tell what someone else thinks, however.

The memes you're sending could be too vague, or conversely, too specific for a situation they don't see with your muse/don't want with your muse. If they're very simple sentence starters, that could be hard to respond to with a muse they don't have established interactions with. If they're too specific, they could feel it's implying a relationship with your muse that theirs doesn't have.

It's a difficult balance and a lot of guessing, but try to send something in the middle of the two. Something that doesn't imply the muses know each other, but also gives something interesting to go off of easily.

Could also be the number of memes you're sending. Everyone wants to get memes, we're all upset when we post a meme and get absolutely nothing! But one person sending us many memes can feel overwhelming or even demanding. I know you're not trying to come off that way, and I cannot say that it is being perceived as such, but this is a possibility and I am trying to cover as many of them as I can in case one works out so you can enjoy yourself in RP again!

If you think this may be the case, try holding off on sending them. Give yourself a set number...something very small at first like one to each mutual a month only when it comes to starter-style memes specifically. That's going to be lame, and I'm sorry! You clearly don't have the interactions you want and it's upsetting enough to you as it is, but if running this experiment means figuring out something that allows you to have them, it'll be worth it, right?

As for the memes you do receive from others, what kind are you getting? Are they sentence/starters, or ones you can answer OOC? Variety of both? Are they the most basic, non-committal sentence on the meme, or interesting, engaging ones? This could be an important clue as to what your mutuals want/where they hold the possibility of your interaction and why. It could also be adding to their perceptions.

I feel like I should say again, as I've no desire to add to how bad you're feeling, that I mean none of this in either an assured way or a judgmental one. I'm just covering all bases of possibility, and even if any of these things are the case, you're not being a bad RP partner, you just might be the wrong one for some of your current mutuals.

If you are primarily getting OOC or non-committal sort of sentence starters, they could be trying to send you memes to be nice, but not have an interest in writing with you. They could be trying to see more of your muse before making that commitment, too. It could be that they're seeking some more development on the muse from you, or more development of a verse they think their muse would work out best with yours in.

So, if you're getting questions that are giving you an opportunity to talk about your muse, develop them, show everyone how you write them, be sure you're taking that opportunity. Try not to reply to those with really short, obvious answers/responses. If it seems there is no way to answer without being obvious, think on ways you can give new information involved with the obvious answer.

If you are getting sentence/starter memes, make your reply as personally interesting to that mun as possible. Go through their wishlist tag if they have one and write your response based on one of them. If they haven't any plots they've expressed a desire to do, you can still get a good idea of what they find particularly appealing by both the threads they already have and the sort of things they reblog. It could just be that, in the past, what you've given in return wasn't something they felt drawn to enough.

Since you said in the second message you sent that this was a relatively recent thing, they used to interact with you, I'm really wondering if they've lost interest in your muse for another fandom favorite, or there is a similar issue going on. Because that certainly implies that something changed for them that did not change for you.

Has there been a significant change in fandom? An old favorite character returned, there is a new one the whole fandom is about, or yours did something in canon that the fandom didn't like? It's always the risk of playing a canon...even one that is canonically dead can end up having something in their story added to that drastically changes the fandom's opinion, so it's a possibility.

In any event, on the other points, big fandom favorite-of-the-moment canons always, I mean that, knock everyone else out. jusAnd it doesn't even have to be in your fandom, either! It can be in a popular enough fandom that your mutuals accept crossovers from, and can feel really shocking when you have a situation like...they all left that major fandom due to burnout with it or drama, but were still attached to it enough to accept crossovers, and suddenly, new media, especially with an old favorite, appears - you are categorically ignored for another fandom's MC lol Neat feeling!

So, it could have nothing at all to do with you. You're just not the hyperfixation right now.

There are some changes that could have happen that might be more involved with you. I don't want to say "have to do with you," because that implies fault and it's not a fault situation when people change and want different things than what they one enjoyed with you. It's possible that some of your mutuals have grown into lengthier writing, different plot genres (they were about hurt/comfort, now they're about fluff), are more/less into shipping than they were, things like that.

I feel I should clarify again that this isn't judgment! It's unfortunately stigmatized to call this "growing into/progressing/etc." when that's just the best way to put it. It implies that you lack growth, you're stuck somewhere, you need to progress. That's not what I'm implying, or that there's anything wrong with continuing to enjoy a hobby the same way you always have...just as there's nothing wrong with expanding on it.

This could be part of the situation. Especially if your mutuals are at one of those awful age ranges where people experience rapid changes in how they enjoy things. What is a great time when you're RPing in your late teens is really different from what you enjoy in your early twenties is really different from what you enjoy in your mid to late twenties is different from what you enjoy in your early thirties is...you get the point. (Though, I will say, for all y'all ageist folks out there: you need to both stop shitting on teens/early twenties people for writing at a lower level than you in your late twenties and stop acting like anyone over thirty is a pedo, unapproachable, and into their forties and beyond are just incomprehensible as writers. Writing is a skill, you improve by doing it, and there is no magical age at which one turns into a pedo and has to give up their interests.) It's really possible that many of them have moved into different aspects of RP than you have.

If that seems to be the case, you have a couple of options. Pay attention to what they are writing, see if that's something you would enjoy working on doing as well. If so, start working on it by increasing your writing skills with any threads you do have or memes you do get, practice is the best way. If you have literally nothing to practice with, you'll have to practice on your own by taking a meme line you would have loved to get, using it as a writing prompt, and writing out what comes to you, just as you would in a meme someone sent you.

Okay, so what if you aren't interested in doing what they are? That's fine! Instead, you may want to look into attracting new mutuals that are more into what you are.

Honestly? If you feel like you are questioning why you even bother with these people already...that's my honest opinion of what you should consider doing regardless. Find new mutuals.

We all know there's a bit of a promo issue, they don't bring in new partners the way they once did, but it's still a good idea to have one floating around. Promo yourself on any relevant lists of active RPers out there you can find. If it's something you'll be alright with, be sure you're crossover and OC friendly to attract the maximum amount of muns and advertise in the maximum number of lists (though, if you say you have a verse in a fandom, do actually make that verse). Verses are a great way to give your potential mutuals the possibility to interact with your muse, consider adding ones from any major fandoms you enjoy and the usual favorites like a "modern" verse.

Other things you can do/should check if you're going to try attracting new mutuals would be having some writing on your blog for them to see and being certain your rules, muse bio, etc. are all up to date and finished out.

With the writing, I realize the situation you have going on is not great for showing potential mutuals your writing! Whatever current things you have, be as active with them as possible, and consider doing some headcanons or one shots. That way there is something that shows you're active, a bit about what interacting with you and your muse is like, and what you're capable of writing.

And with the other things, they're all really important information for mutuals to have, especially new ones who haven't been there with you this whole time. Your old mutuals may know, for example, what putting in your rules "just don't be a dick" means to you, specifically, but new mutuals do not. So, give your rules a once-over to be sure they're clear on what you do/do not want, how you approach RP, etc. Make sure all the common things are covered, but things unique to yourself as well.

If you haven't finished your muse bio, or you feel there are new things for you to add to it now, it's the best time to do so! Since you have a canon, I have to say it - don't just link to a wiki. Take this time you've been unfortunately gifted by inactivity to write up your own take on this muse - your portrayal is different than anyone else's, show your new mutuals how.

If you haven't a page for verses yet, or that page/post is really brief and has things like, "this is a modern verse, it takes place in our world" now is also the time to either make it or improve this. Really tell them what is different about your muse in each verse, what's interesting about this verse, where they fit into the canon of whatever fandom. Treat these verses as foundations for what you'll build with your mutuals, not hard stories that have to be followed, and be sure you're clear about that on the page/post! It'll help more people engage with your muse when they don't feel like you have an immutable story already without them.

Consider adding a navigation page/post if you do not already have one. A pinned post can work for this! That way you can link by your tags as well, so new people checking out your blog can quickly see your memes, headcanons, aesthetic posts, everything. And if you haven't been tagging those things? Start doing it for this purpose! Give people a way to quickly and passively check out as much as possible on your muse before they choose to interact, it'll help them make that choice.

As a last thing...I have to ask, have you asked any of your present mutuals why you're not interacting anymore?

I understand if you haven't, especially if you hadn't developed a good rapport with them yet. They could take that as guilting or pressuring and get annoyed with you, so I get the anxiety and reluctance. People also have an unintentionally horrible way of lying, too. Their intentions are good, they just don't want to make anyone feel bad or start an argument, but the outcome isn't nice. Yeah, people do totally ask these things expressly to be lied to and validated, or even to start an argument, but we shouldn't be treating everyone like that's what they're doing. We should assume that when people ask for help understanding a problem that they want the help. Community problem we all need to work on!

But anyway, if you feel like any of them are going to be honest and polite with you, and you haven't done so already, try asking them what is going on. No one knows better than they do why they're not engaging with you anymore, after all. Even if this isn't a situation that is going to improve with these mutuals, it's good to know for the future.

To avoid sounding like you're pressuring/shaming/guilting them, choose your words and phrasing carefully. Instead of, "I noticed you don't respond to the memes I send you, but do respond to memes from other mutuals," try, "I noticed we don't interact much anymore, it's fine if you're just in a different place now, but if there is something I can be doing differently, it would help me a lot to know, if you're alright with discussing that with me."

I'm not trying to imply you don't know how to converse with people, Anon lol I just know that it can be a difficult situation, it can lead to us unintentionally saying something that come off wrong to the other party. I'd really love for you to get an answer, even if it isn't one you like, so you'd at least know what went on and could move on from it.

Because this, reasonably, is pretty upsetting.

You are never too old to feel disappointed, hurt, or confused, Anon! It's okay to be depressed at any age when you've invested your time and energy in a hobby only to have it passed over for nebulous reasons. Hobbies are supposed to be fun, but that's the thing...hobbies aren't your job, the time and energy you invest in them is just for you. It's a passionate pursuit, if you want it to be. So having this kind of situation is hurtful, and you don't even know why it's happening.

Tumblr has this extremely gross problem with throwing around shit to shame muns over twenty-five for having a hobby still, don't internalize it! I'm not remotely sorry that I have interests outside of my work, cleaning my house, paying my bills, or having offspring (which, I do not, but that's the expectation, at midnight on your twenty-sixth birthday, if you don't drop dead, you have three children and a spouse and they're your sole interests, this is the only way to be an adult)...and I'm not remotely sorry for being as passionate about those interests as I was ten and twenty years ago, either. Including the emotions that come with it. I'm sure that if being a PTA parent was my primary hobby and someone snubbed me repeatedly in it without telling me why, I'd be upset about that, too. It's okay to have a hobby, it's okay to have feelings, including negative ones like being depressed. No matter what the RPC has to say about it.

I just hope that something in here helps! It might take a little bit to find new mutuals, talk to your current mutuals, try out new things with your writing, whatever it is you end up trying, but try to stay patient and looking forward to better things to come. I believe this can work out, and you deserve for it to!

Oh, on a side note? If it is your muse being one the fandom has stigmatized? Same, and fuck them. Is that hostile? Yes, and I'm not sorry lol Don't feel like you need to change muses because of that. You need to find the right mutuals, not cater to negative, irrational, and almost certainly purity culture-based attitudes of the wrong ones. When you take up a muse your fandom, or even corner of your fandom's RPC, has taken issue with, your only responsibility is to accept that you likely will have fewer interactions as a part of that choice. Fewer does not mean none, nor does it mean the interactions you don't want/are not fulfilling or otherwise enjoyable for you. Again, you just need to find the right group of muns!

There are muns out there who will appreciate your muse, and exactly as you are writing them too. There are muns who will appreciate your writing style, activity level, and preferred genres. If it takes you a bit to find them, just look at it as an exercise to spend more time developing your muse and writing for when you find them. It'll all be worth it if you hang in there.

#answered #anonymous #rp problems #rp advice #interactions

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