Freeze Frame: One-Shots

The Body Swap

"Hey, hey, it's okay! It's okay!" A new voice soothes, and Harper feels a hand grasp hers. The sensation stings hard, something in the a sea of nothing. It's almost painful, and if Harper could move, she'd yank away from it. "You need to breathe, Lillian. In and out. You're safe. It's okay. Your croissant hasn't been dropped."

Harper's other hand finally manages to move. It jerkily flies up to her face, slapping over her eyes as she struggles to right herself. Her confusion swells through her myriad of other emotions. Who is Lillian? Because it sure as shit isn't her. Whoever's talking to her seems to think she's someone she's not-- was she kidnapped? Does she have some sort of quirk inhibitor on her? Even then, her quirk would still be there. It would just be dampened and contained. Right now, it's completely gone. As in, not there. And why the fuck are they talking about croissants? Does that have literally anything to do with this situation?

Harper fought to center herself, but she wasn't sure it was even possible. Her quirk wasn't there. What if she could never get it back? What if it was gone forever? The thought alone was enough to have her pulse racing even faster, reaching what had to be dangerous levels. Her breathing picked up even more, and she heard more cursing. Again, her brain latched onto the sound. It drunk it in greedily, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't loud enough, and it wasn't thought. God, to think she'd be worse off without the very quirk that kept her up most nights and plagued her with chronic migraines!

"Lillian, open your eyes. Come on." What sounded like Aizawa's voice grunted in its usual monotone, though it sounded somewhat colored with concern. There was no train of glittery, vibrant thoughts to follow and contrast. It made Harper's insides curl. Why was Aizawa calling her Lillian? Unless that wasn't him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Her quirk is gone, she doesn't know where she is, she doesn't-- someone thinks she's whoever the fuck this Lillian girl is. And her quirk is gone. And it's so, so quiet. "Just open your eyes. You're okay."

Harper forced her eyes open and inhaled sharply when they were assaulted by light. Her gaze darted around frantically, sucking in everything in search of stimulation. Aizawa's face hovered over her, brows furrowed with concern as Harper heaved for air. Harper found herself pushing herself back and away from him. This wasn't her room or her bed, she could immediately tell. She dragged against the pillow, hair pulling-- her hair. Her hair was all wrong. She could feel it stuck under her sweaty upper arms, scalp tugging as she awkwardly struggled her way further to the wall.

Behind Aizawa was Shinso Hitoshi from the Ged Ed course, looking extremely worried as Harper's chest rose and fell rather dramatically. Her head rung with the resounding silence around her, her eyes shooting over to the blonde idiot from 1-B who was also standing there. Todoroki's body was splayed out on the ground off to the right, face down like a corpse. Harper's hand flew up to her chest, grasping at the fabric over her heart. This was wrong. Why were they here? What were they thinking? Harper didn't know. Harper never didn't know.

It really was like being blind. Were they even real? Did they know what was going on? Harper wanted to know what was going on, and normally would know what was going on. Only she couldn't know what was going on her, because her quirk wasn't here. Their minds were unreachable. Blocked off from her. She couldn't even feel them. It made her feel like she was surrounded by ghosts, or perhaps corpses. She got no emotion from them, no individuality, no internal monologues. Just what was on the surface, physically. Harper's stomach churned.

"Wh-What the fuck?" Harper rasped out, and she felt something icy immediately shoot through her when she realized that the voice that had just come out of her wasn't hers. She looked down blearily at her hands, which trembled violently. Freckles covered the backs of them, and her palms were a little rougher. She was paler, her nails covered in chipping blue polish. Dark hair spilled messily over one of her shoulders, a curling, tangled mass that was in desperate need of brushing. Harper stared, eyes wide in horror, silence still ringing.