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prince-of-elsinore · 3 years

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More reasons to enjoy Season 12

Part 2 to this post

These are just my (mostly) not too serious thoughts on things I enjoyed about season 12 (which believe me, I do have criticism of, but not for this post) now that I have finished my re-watch of it.

- they unfridged the original fridged woman. bold move, good course correction

- Mick as a foil to Sam, Ketch as a foil to Dean. That's all.

- it's goddamn refreshing to have Sam and Dean on the same page most of the time! Like in 12x15 Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell, Sam has been keeping the secret that he's working with the BMOL. But the secret only lasts one episode, and when Sam realizes he needs to come clean, Dean doesn't blow up at him. Sam being honest and Dean being accepting of Sam's decision: both evidence of growth! And in 15x20 The Future, they're on the same page about not wanting to let Cass go with Kelly. They both think he's been brainwashed (b/c that is definitely what it looks like). I just like seeing them agree on stuff, ok?

- Sam embracing his life and feeling comfortable with himself!! I see this season as a turning point, especially for Sam. I don't believe he's simply been brow-beaten into accepting a life he hates; I think he's consciously choosing to embrace the good of what he does and to take pride in it. His relationship with hunting will never be the same as Dean's, but, like I said: they're on the same page. As he tells Mary in 12x14 The Raid--"I chose this life." This is mostly due to choosing Dean, more than choosing hunting, but in any case, it is a conscious choice and Sam is making the one that is worth it to him, the choice that brings him fulfillment. And he even sees new worth in hunting itself, in a way that is very much in line with his character, as he expresses in 12x18 The Memory Remains (which I talk about more here).

- and that newfound confidence and comfort with who he is allows Sam to take a huge step in 12x22 Who We Are. I was so proud of him when he says "I called you here" instead of "We called you here." Sam has always had an independent streak, and he's stepping out from Dean's shadow in a healthy way here. He's allowing himself to be an individual agent. I always felt that in the end, he needed something of his own to be fulfilled, more than hunting with Dean--either a mentorship or leadership position (both of which he gets in the late seasons). This is his first step towards that, and he's so capable of it! He is a badass and he leads the hunters to victory over the BMOL on his own.

- and Dean lets him!! This is a huge step for Dean too! Of course he's still worried about Sam (the "you come back" gets me every time), but he's not insisting on being there to protect him. He believes in Sam. He tells Sam he's ready for this, and when Sam hears it from Dean, he knows it's true. They need each other, but here we're seeing need of a healthier type--the way no one is an island, and we all need the love and support of our friends/family. They offer each other that, and it gives them the strength they need. I was so proud of Dean in that moment.

- ALSO so proud of Dean for, for once, acknowledging his own needs. Trying to save Mary is the right task for Dean--he'll never give up on family. But in the process, he speaks some truths that needed speaking. Admitting that he was set up to fail in raising Sam, that his whole life has been so unfair. Letting himself feel resentment towards the family whose hold is so tight on him. But, at the end of the day, still choosing love. "I hate you. And I love you. 'Cause I can't – I can't help it. You're my Mom. And I understand... 'cause I have made deals to save the ones I love more than once." Dean understands better than anyone that sometimes love causes harm, but it's still love and who can blame a person who acts out of love? And the thing is, love can also redeem. And here, Mary and Dean, both of whom have made some terrible choices in the name of love, find their way back to each other through love. Dean gives Mary the forgiveness he seeks for himself. This is Dean at his best.

- and even Sam gets in on the action. He, too, chooses love, and forgiveness. The family hug at the end of Who We Are is EVERYTHING.

- ok Who We Are isn't the only good episode so I'm gonna backtrack to talk about some others, like 12x11 Regarding Dean--it's funny! It's sad! Carrying on a great spn tradition of episodes like Mystery Spot and Yellow Fever. The sticky notes are wonderful. Sam knowing Dean well enough to leave them in the trunk of the Impala, with a big "NO" over the grenade launcher. Dean holding up "Witch Killing Bullets" without saying a word. Pointing his gun in confusion at Sam, who yells and points, "Brother! Witch!" :)

- 12x12 Stuck in the Middle (With You)—who doesn’t love a Tarantino tribute? (Having just watched Kill Bill, I can certainly say I love it). And the return of the Colt! Crowley's "It’s amazing what some people just leave laying about." Snark king.

- 12x13 Family Feud—I want to write a longer meta about the theme of family and love and sacrifice in this episode, so I won't go into it here. But another nice thing is how united the brothers are in their anger when Mary reveals she's been working with the BMOL. It's the closest we get to addressing Sam's torture and violation at the beginning of the season. I get the feeling Dean isn't so angry b/c of what Lady Bevell did to him, but b/c of what she did to Sam, which makes me think he knows it was bad, and Dean supported Sam in whatever he needed after that, whether it was talking about it or just giving some space, etc. Love some defensive big brother Dean.

- 12x14 The Raid—Actually a pretty tense action episode. And Mick is cool.

- 12x16 Ladies Drink Free—The Mick team-up is fun (I like changing up the dynamics), as is seeing them stay in a 3 star hotel lol. Dean has some good moments that highlight his growth, too. His "I used to think the same thing, too" to Mick, as if it weren't already obvious that he's taken "saving people" more to heart than "hunting things." He's done a lot of work to evolve beyond who he was with the Mark of Cain and even before. He also makes it perfectly clear what he thinks of guys skeeving on underage girls, and it's nice the writers finally emphasize that Dean does not like that behavior. He's past the point in his life where he'd make a joke about cheerleaders being legal (back in season 4. Quick digression: that's definitely a gross thing to say, but I always saw it as performative more than a declaration of intent. He puts on what he thinks macho guys would say. Not that Dean doesn't oggle what he likes, but one thing has always been very clear to me about Dean--he's a fan of enthusiastic consent. Anyway this should probably be a longer post b/c I could talk about Dean and performative masculinity and sexual attraction ad nauseam so I'll leave it there)

- 12x18 The Memory Remains—I've already gone over in my previous meta what this ep says about legacy, but there are other fun things about it. Like a Goat-headed monster! Man, how long has it been since the bros took on an urban legend like this? Like... any since freakin' Bloody Mary? Also Dean being cool with the kid smoking weed. You just know he likes to light up sometimes. Man, I need more weed-smoking Dean in my life

- 12x20 Twigs and Twine and Tasha Banes--this is a good fuckin ep. Finally, someone else on this goddamn show is allowed to be as codependent and unwise as Sam and Dean, and isn't punished for it. Let Max keep his wood-puppet sister! (Wow I KNOW it's really fucked up b/c I guess he can control her, too, but damn if it isn't fascinating. And sad. I hope they figure out some way to restore her autonomy) I stan two (2) codependent witch twins

- 12x21 Something About Mary--I'm a sucker for the silent communication and flawless telepathy as Sam and Dean find the bug and lay the trap for the BMOL. And that letter from Eileen :C (Even if her thing with Sam leaves me cold, I'm glad she got to come back to life b/c she sure didn't deserve to go like that)

- Ok one more thing about Who We Are--I'm a sucker for the angst of them thinking they're gonna die trapped in the bunker. And then Dean comes through with the grenade launcher, AND gets out the hole before it caves in. BAMF. I love that they saved themselves rather than some deus ex machina. No Supernatural interference necessary. Not even any deals with reapers, etc.

- I lied, one MORE thing about Who We Are--Sam doesn't take the bad deal Hess offers him (to help with Lucifer)! Once upon a time, I believe that Sam would have been so scared that he'd take the deal with the snake, masking his fear and foolishness as pragmatism. But he knows his own worth now. He knows he doesn't need the BMOL, terrified as he is.

- Finally, it was sad to say goodbye to Crowley in the finale, but it was a worthy end. You'll be missed, Fergus MacLeod.

#spn meta #spn season 12 #my meta #spn

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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Humans Are Space Orcs, “Left Face!”

Just something quick for you this morning . Wanted to let you guys know that I have about a week before being back at school, so if you have any ideas you want to see happen, I would like you to let me know so I can do any planing now that I have time. Thinking becomes harder when at college lol.

Anyway thanks! :)

The Rundi councilwoman was very nervous. She had only met humans a few times, five times, not that she was counting, and the creatures unnerved her more than anything ever had. It was a strange experience, a first look into their eyes and you were convinced you were looking into the eyes of a predatory beast, but look closer and you realized the guile and intelligence that drove the creature. An intelligence that lead it to folding space before it even bothered with light speed.

It confused her and scared her. She just wasn’t sure how the handle the creature, whether she should treat it more like a dangerous beast or ore like a reasoning sentient being. That thought was still undecided as she walked from the galactic assembly council chambers with her guard, which had been heavily augmented considering who they were meeting with.

The doors ahead of her were open allowing in the light of their main sequence star, a warm yellow in color, and their sky which was a pleasant purple-blue dotted with clouds. It was a pleasant enough day outside though she was racked with what seemed like the weight of an entire galaxy on her back. The Drev war was taking its toll on her. She would very much have liked to accept the suggestions of the Vrul and leave the creatures to rot on their primitive planet, but they were dangerous and intelligent, and they had made threats to the entire galaxy. Destroying their manufacturing plants was the only option, and one that was made increasingly difficult by the Drev proclivity for war.

Then had come the treaty signing with the humans, and out of goodwill they had pledged their own soldiers to the cause with the promise that they did, in fact, know a thing or two about war.

Why didn’t that surprise her?

With a deep breath, she stepped out into starlight, and was met with a small army of humans.

There were dozens of the creatures all lined up in perfectly formed rows before the assembly chambers. It was difficult to tell the difference between them as they were all dressed similarly to each other in those strange human garments. The patterns atop them made it very difficult to focus on their forms as they stood straight and still in the morning sun. She shouldn't have felt so afraid, but somehow she couldn't help but feel a small sense of threat with the way they held their perfect rows, with their perfect posture and their unflinching faces staring straight forward.

She had seen humans before, they never remained still, so this just seemed to be a….. A demonstration of their might by showing her they could force such a volatile species into absolute stillness.

That was all accept for a group of humans that stood out in front of her. They were wearing similar uniforms to those of their soldiers, though they had more shiny bits on them . The amount of shiny things worn by humans seemed to be an indicator of their status, also the ones that stood on higher ground seemed to be a good indication. She felt her innards crawl as the humans turned to look at her, their eyes darting the small dark apertures in their centers expanding and contracting as they licked over her body. Just watching them made her dizzy and she wondered how they did not make themselves sick with the strange movement.

They stood taller as she approached, and she shrunk down a little wondering if they intended the movement as an aggression or a show of dominance towards her. As she drew near the frontmost human raised its chin to her exposing it’s throat, “Good morning chairwoman, it is a pleasure to meet with you again.”

Inside she was internally panicking. All of their features were so much the same that she had a hard time remembering if she had ever met this human before. She frantically looked over the shiny bits on his clothing struggling to remember what she had been told about their ranking falling into great relief when she finally remembered, “Oh, Admiral it is indeed an honor to speak with you again. We cannot express how deeply we thank you for this show of goodwill.”

“It has been a human tradition for centuries to help one’s allies in war, though it has not always pleased the civilian masses.” he held out one of his claw-tipped hands towards the assembled soldiers, “Take a look, see what you think. All of these men and women have been vetted, tested, vaccinated and are ready to fight for the cause of intergalactic peace.”

She nervously glanced down at their still standing ranks and swallowed, “Are…. they always so still.”

The man laughed, “Only when ordered. They are disciplined to the last movement and the last order.” We will demonstrate.” The man snapped sharply on his heels, “ATTENTION!”

The chairwoman stepped back in shock and surprise as all the humans, in one synchronized group snapped their legs together brought their arms to their sides, “PRESENT ALL!” A hundred arms snapped upwards as if they were about to bash themselves in the head but stopped right below their temples eyes never moving.”AS YOU WERE” Again, like they were all reflections of each other the humans did as told never deviating.

“RIGHT….” Heads snapped to the right, “FACE.” With synchronized foot movements they turned to the right.

“ABOUT FACE!” They all turned in the opposite direction.

He leaned in closer to her, “Let's play a little game. DROP OUT DRILL EVERYONE!”

She stares don in concerned awe as the human began barking commands.

“ LEFT FACE, RIGHT FACE. RIGHT FACE, RIGHT FACE, LEFT FACE, ABOUT FACE, LEFT, AS YOU WERE, ABOUT FACE, RIGHT FACE, LEFT FACE.”

The square was filled with the clattering of the human’s feet on the ground in perfect rhythmic synchronization. The longer it took them to drop out the faster the commands came until the humans were practically spinning in circles on the field below.

“W-what is the point of this/” She stammered

The human turned to look at her, his incredibly mobile face bringing the opening of his mouth up at the corners, “It is a demonstration of their ability to follow orders and pay attention. What I am about to show you next is historically the methods used for intimidation, demonstration of superior military might, and synchronization.”

Other humans had moved into position behind him and began barking orders forming the humans into tight columns and groups. Around the square, other faces were peering from buildings trying to determine what the commotion was about, “FORWARD MARCH.”

“LEFT, LEFT, LEFT RIGHT LEFT.” The humans walked past never stopping boots thundering against the ground at the same moment sending chills up her spine as she watched them move in perfect harmony, their bodies no more than rhythm turned into motion. They turned spun, and walked backwards through each other heads never turning to look where they were going, perfectly trusting the commands of their officers.

She found their method of intimidation to be working, and so seemed the rest of her people as they vanished back into the buildings with great haste.

When the demonstration was over she turned to the human, dreading the question she was about to ask, “And what military technology can you bring to the field?”

“That is a good question chairwoman.” He motioned to one of his soldiers, who hustled over carrying…. Well it looked like a big black stick with knobby protrusions. He took it carefully in one arm keeping one end pointed towards either the ground or the sky as he demonstrated, “This is a piece of military technology that hasn’t changed for the past thousand years accept to be stronger and more accurate. He pulled a lever at the side of the weapon locking open a tiny chamber.

“A round.” He ordered, and his soldiers rushed forward.

The human held up the little gold and copper-tipped cylinder up to her eye level/. “This, that pointy bit on the end is a bullet inside the gold part will be an explosive powder.” She stepped back, he held up the black stick, “This is a rifle, the bullets are fed into the chamber, the little hole right here where the firing pin will strike the back of the casing lighting the explosive and sending the bullet in a controlled explosion through the barrel at a high rate of speed into your target. Once inside, the more delicate metal is designed to break apart and tumble ripping your enemy apart from the inside.”

She stared at him in shock and horror, “You, you use explosives to hurl speeding shrapnel at your enemies.”

“Sort of accept for the times that we use explosives to hurl actual shrapnel of our enemies, then we just generally pack the explosives into a ball and throw them at each other.”

She swallowed hard, “I… I and what do those do?”

“Rip of limbs, hurl you to the ground, causing a pressure wave so serious that it causes the lungs to fill with fluid, or just kill you instantly, one of a multitude of options. We create them in all sizes, we shoot some from really big guns, drop them from the sky or even bury them in the ground to be triggered by the pressure of a misplaced foot long after we aren't there anymore.”

Was he threatening her, was she being threatened?

“I, I see, why-why do you not simply use energy weapons.”

The human sighed, “We tried those once upon a time, but it turns out the radius of an effective blast is closer than we would like, and like a taser some humans can sort of just walk them off. Better to rip open their insides to make sure they can’t get back up.”

She was feeling a bit feint, “I will have you know that the Drev wear full plate armor, and have a hard covering carapace.”

“In that case we will use armor piercing rounds. Just make this thing a bit heavier add some tungsten, punch through their hard outsides and into the squishy insides.”

She swallowed hard, “Could you please not describe that so graphically?”

The human tilted his head at her, “I wasn’t.” His strange toothy expression returned, “Anyway each one of my soldiers will be carrying one of these, as well as a small version. A few of them will have the model that can shoot these over distances of thousands of feet.” I think we will have your little Drev problem dealt with in short order.”

She stammered and swallowed hard, “I…. I sure hope that you do.”

He reached out patting her on the arm, and she tried not to flinch, humans were very touchy, and she had a feeling that maybe it had something to do with dominance rituals, but she couldn’t be sure.

She just didn’t want to be touched by something that she knew could rip her arms off.

What had she gotten herself into.

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia #HUMANS ARE WEIRD

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whirlybirdwhat · 4 years

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If you still take prompts, I'd like to suggest "platonic kisses"

Okay look. This is late. But I told you all it turned into a monster didn’t I?

Anyway, take 5,000+ words of Straw Hat fluff.

(You didn’t specify a fandom, so I’m going with One Piece lol.)

Enjoy! See Ao3 Notes for further Warnings.

—

Sun Over the Horizon on Ao3 Read there for better quality!

“In the hours after a battle, the Straw Hats are unusually silent.

In the hours after a battle, Luffy helps his crew heal.”—

The Straw Hat pirates, contrary to popular belief, do have their quiet moments, when all seems still and the sea as calm as it can be out on the Grand Line.

These moments can find Brook humming at the center of the deck, Bink’s Sake a lowly joyful tune to soothe the crew, as Usopp tinkers nearby and Nami sketches her maps, the doors open to hear the tune. Sanji’s cooking in the kitchen, a light snack and something sweet for their even sweeter doctor working to organize the (once again, ransacked) infirmary. Robin, with an ear on deck and a nose in a book in the Library, enjoys the tune as Franky drinks his own cola down in the Engine room – making sure their (temporarily) calm voyage stays that way as long as possible. Jimbe is up at the helm, doing the same.

Zoro’s napping, as he normally is, sunning himself on deck. Close to him is their captain, serene for once.

But they are not surprised – when he stares out at the ocean from his special seat (his throne), few can take his attention away.

(Usopp asked once, what Luffy thought about up there. In response, the captain had given a surprisingly poetic answer.

Nothing. ‘N Everything too. The sea likes to tell me things.

Robin called it the Voice of All Things. Luffy simply shrugged, and said that the horizon holds everything.)

(They don’t ask after the two years they spent apart, when ever so often Luffy’s hand will drift to his chest during his watch.)

Luffy stares out to the sea, still but not frozen, before fluidly getting up.

It’s almost night, and the quiet moment isn’t as quiet as it seems.

Usopp’s tinkering with the Climatact, which had been hit by a stray bullet in the battle yesterday. Brooks humming is a forced sort of calm, reminding them that they are all (relatively) alive. Nami’s maps are not entirely new, but freshly done ones that need to be retouched after cannonballs shook the ship. Robin may have her eyes in a book, but her mind is elsewhere, somewhere far away as is Jimbe’s, his face stormy. Franky’s checking up on the engine, on Sunny, worried for the hits she took, and Sanji is cooking a feast to restore their (ever so slightly too thin) captain back to his fullest health, while Chopper reorganizes the supplies he had torn out yesterday – when Zoro had been bleeding from a stab wound to the stomach.

(He hadn’t seen the Devil-fruit user in his blind spot)

Luffy steps over the dark patch on the ground, burnt from cannon fire.

(Five Vice-Admirals, all with Haki and one with devil-fruit powers, all from the New World.

They had won, but it was not a bloodless fight on their end)

Luffy’s captain, it’s his job to make sure these quiet moments are the good kind of quiet moments, where peace and relaxation and decompression (that’s the word that Robin used, right?) are all that are focused in their minds.

And he knows exactly how.

The engine room is where he starts, with Franky toiling away at the engine, for once, a content smile not on his face as he works.

Luffy doesn’t like that (even though his crewmates are free to feel however they want) – he prefers his shipwright smiling as he works on his Dream, on Sunny. He prefers his shipwright feeling SUPER!

“Hey Luffy-bro!” Franky calls as Luffy’s feet, bare for once, slap against the wood on the way down. His voice is strained, and it makes Luffy frown inwardly. “What do you need? I won’t have this fixed up for a while, so we can’t go anywhere yet.”

Luffy shakes his head. “Nah. That’s not what I want. It’s okay – I know you’ll fix it eventually. You’re the best shipwright after all!”

(Luffy sees the way the metal’s warped, the way the tanks are so slightly out of place, knows that any other person would have given up immediately.

But Franky’s different. Luffy knows this.)

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay!” And at that cheerful phrases from his captain, Franky’s hands still entirely, tension flowing from his body and to the floor upon which he sits.

A smile finally, finally graces his lips as he speaks. “Yeah, Captain. I’m okay.” Luffy nods, and stretches his hands to the cyborg’s face (still taller than him even as he sits) who leans down to accommodate him.

Luffy holds Franky’s face in his hands, searching his eyes for something Franky won’t ever be able to comprehend, before beaming. He presses his lips to Franky’s nose, loving like only a captain can be to his crew and that final bit of stress is finally gone from Franky at that oh so simple moment.

Its broken by Luffy laughing however, Franky’s hair now wildly distressed, triggered by the kiss upon his nose. Franky only laughs with him, styling his hair into something simple but sure to make Luffy laugh – a giant starfish!

It feels good to relax again.

After saying farewell to Franky (after three more hairstyle changes of course) Luffy heads to the aquarium, where Robin has relocated (he hadn’t missed the eyes peeping from behind the machinery.)

“Hey Robin!”

“Hello Captain.” Robin’s voice is normal to outsiders, but Luffy hears the shake in it, just as subtle as the way her hand was a second to slow to sprout to life and stop the first cannonballs to hit the deck.

“Whatcha reading?” Luffy asks swiftly, ignoring the way Robins breath shudders as she puts the book down

“Nothing special – only a book about the ruins of Alabasta’s desert.”

Luffy’s frown grows even more.

Robin never describes any book as nothing special. They’re all special to her.

She rarely reads about Alabasta, it’s a place she’s already been to and documented – but the book itself is one she always goes back to when she’s feeling down and unsure…

(The past doesn’t matter, not aboard this ship, but Robin will never forget the day she was willing the sacrifice thousands for a chance at her dream)

Luffy plucks the book out of her hands and sets it carefully to the side. Robin doesn’t react, her hands perfectly still and her eyes empty and staring straight into Luffy’s.

“Robin,” He says, in the same voice that commanded her to say she wanted to live, “I’m glad you’re on my ship.”

A word doesn’t pass her lips but that’s okay, Luffy understands. Robin doesn’t like to add to history sometimes, only likes to watch it – and that’s okay too.

(She will, though, be history someday, a living legend – the Pirate King’s beloved archeologist -)

Luffy gently grabs her hands and lays them in her lap before releasing one and grabbing a ink pen set to the side. With careful movements, he traces an X, bold and powerful, on her wrist.

Robin likes history – she understands.

Luffy brings it up to his lips and kisses it gently, careful to avoid the ink, and beams at her.

“I’m glad you’re here Robin,” He says simply, before tugging the infamous straw hat more firmly on his head and dashing out of the room.

He doesn’t need to look back to see the smile gracing Robin’s lips.

(Because Robin – she’s an archeologist. She’s history, and with the Straw Hats, she’s history in the making. She knows what the X means, drawn on seven wrists and one wing, knows that it means belonging like only a Straw Hat can know –

And now, even if she is not ready enough to stop cannonballs in sudden fire, she is enough to be one of the Straw Hats.

And that’s all she needs.)

Usopp’s next on his list, buried deep within the Usopp Factory. Luffy steps through, taking care not to step on anything (Usopp gets mad if he does – Luffy doesn’t get it, knows that Usopp’s stuff is amazing no matter what shape its in, but he can respect it), slowly but surely making his way to his sniper.

When he finds him, Usopp’s hands are shaking and he’s cursing when he can’t fit the screw into the climatact.

Usopp’s a liar, but he’s never been able to hide his feelings from his captain.

“Usopp.” Luffy says, collapsing on Usopps back (and how out of it is Usopp with his observation Haki that he startles when Luffy does so?) like some kind of rubbery, wet rag. “Tell me a story.”

“I can’t Lu- I have to fix Nami’s weapon.”

“Nami’s weapon won’t fix itself if you can’t fix the screwy thing in the hole.”

Usopp’s shoulders slouch, taking Luffy with them, and the captain lets out a soft shishishi at the motion. “I know.”

“So tell me a story!”

“Aye Captain.” And Usopp does, shrugging Luffy off his back so they can sit side by side, imaginary battle scene rippling to life on the wooden walls.

His voice is soft this time around, but Luffy knows that when Usopp’s stories are the truest, they’re the quietest, like Usopp doesn’t want anyone to hear the truth.

(Luffy doesn’t get it – Usopp’s awesome! He’s the best sniper in the world! Who wouldn’t want to know about him?)

“Did I ever tell you about the time I fought three giant ants at once with only one pop green?”

“NO! Tell me!”

“Well – It all goes like this…” Usopp’s voice gets stronger and stronger, and his body relaxed and easier as the tale goes on – embellished a little, but truthful in every way that counts.

Until…

“I aimed for the final ants wing and – and … and…” He stutters and trails off. “I missed. Like I did today.”

(Luffy remembers. Remembers how Usopp shot the star and how for once, it didn’t hit its target (the musket in the Marine’s hand), how for once, Usopp’s aim was off, how for once, there was a devil fruit eater who could combat his attacks near perfectly, how for once, Usopp couldn’t do what Usopp did best and snipe.)

Luffy hums from his place on Usopp’s shoulder, playing with Usopp’s hands as he lets his sniper speak.

(After Water 7, he knows the value of words.)

“I missed and you got hurt Luffy. I failed – I had one job and I failed, I couldn’t even do that right, I’m sorry Luffy, I swear I aimed right, I’m sorry…”

Luffy hums again, this time slipping his hand firmly into Usopp’s. “That’s okay.”

“But it isn’t! You’re hurt! I’m supposed to stop things like that…” Mm. The sea stone bullet in his shoulder had hurt but it had can straight through so that’s okay. But Usopp’s voice continues to waver, unsure and wet. “I couldn’t protect you.”

At this, Luffy stops listening and starts speaking.

“Usopp. I’m the captain.”

“I know Luffy –“

“Usopp. I’m the captain. And I say its okay. It wasn’t your fault – it was Pinky’s fault-“

“I don’t think that was his name-“

“It was Pinky’s fault. You aimed true and you did everything you were supposed too do. And it didn’t work out – and that’s okay!”

“But – “

“And you got back up and did it again! You were so fast! Pinky didn’t even have time to cast another… another uhhh Moody Moody Pull!

“I think it was Muta Muta Luffy…”

“It doesn’t matter! I saw it doesn’t” And now, Luffy looks at his sniper and smiles. “Its okay Usopp. I’m okay, you’re okay. Alright?”

Usopp doesn’t respond for a while, doesn’t look Luffy in the eye, but like Luffy’s been saying, its okay.

Luffy will wait as long as it takes.

Finally, Usopp looks up and just melts. “Yeah,” He says, voice wet with tears, “Its okay.” And suddenly Luffy has an armful of Usopp.

Eventually, after Luffy’s bandaged shoulder is suitable wet with tears, he lets Luffy go, who promptly places a kiss on Usopp’s cheek.

“Shishishi! I have the best sniper!”

“Luffy!”

“Shishishi!”

Nami isn’t much different than Usopp when Luffy finds her, hands shaking as she draws her still flawless maps.

The one thing is, she’s already crying and her whole body is shaking.

First thing Luffy does is slide the map out from under her hands. The next thing he does is hug his navigator like he has never done before.

Nami only cries harder, beating her hands on Luffy’s back as sobbed words break from her throat. “Luffy… Luffy I almost died.”

“I know,” he responds, “I know.”

(The musket guy had been back, aiming at another target after shooting Luffy, who was still tusseling despite the blood pouring from his shoulder, with a Vice admiral. The target had been Nami, who had no one to protect her from the bullet.

It was luck that had Nami pulling the Climatact in front of her chest at the exact moment that the musket fire. It was luck that the bullet ricocheted off it, it was luck that Nami lived.

Luffy didn’t like to think about it)

(Ace…)

“But Nami,” He says carefully, making sure his hands move Nami’s to her tattoo and the scars underneath it. “You’re alive.”

Nami’s eyes don’t stop crying nor her body shaking, but she understands.

(The past doesn’t matter – not aboard Luffy’s ship. Nami asked him to help her, and he didn’t need a reason, didn’t need a story to beat up Arlong.

Nami lived now, and it didn’t matter why or how, only that she was alive. And she would stay that way.)

“But-“

“You’re alive.” Luffy says it like its truth, and if Nami really has to admit it, if it’s from him it must be true.

“I’m alive.” Nami repeats, quiet but secure in it.

“I’m alive.”

I’m here, I’m alive, I’m free.

It takes three minutes for Nami to pull away from his shoulder, and another two for her eyes to stop watering, but by then she’s smiling so Luffy knows it worked (he would stay still forever if it meant his nakama got the chance to be happy.)

“Thanks Luffy.” Nami says in that wonderful happy voice she reserves for her captain only.

Luffy only beams like a thousand suns in response and places a sloppy kiss on her cheek, and dashes out to the embarrassed but fond screeching of his navigator

Luffy’s shirt is wet from ink and tears (and blood) when he finally leaves, but his navigator is smiling and the shirt was getting itchy anyway as it rubbed against the wounds littering his body so maybe it’s time to ditch it anyway.

He slowly creeps past the galley, avoiding Sanji’s gaze (his cook is focused on the meat he’s burning in the pan, but for once Luffy isn’t interested.) as he makes his way to the infirmary.

There he finds Chopper, small and lost between the bloody piles of bandages tossed around the infirmary. Luffy doesn’t hesitate to sweep him up in his arms and sit on the bed, Chopper acting like a stuffed animal more than a reindeer.

“Luffy!” Chopper exclaims, surprised but content to let Luffy hold him. “Where have you been! I told you to be in here an hour ago!”

“Sorry Chopper!” Luffy relaxes into the fluffy fur, “I was talking to Franky! And Robin! And Usopp! And Nami! And now you!”

“But what were you doing before that?”

“Thinking!”

“On your special seat?”

“Yeah!” Luffy loosens his arms so Chopper may turn in them and look him dead in the eye.

“I told you, you have to stay inside! That sea stone bullet left residue in your body and I don’t want the sea spray heightening it’s effects!”

Luffy pouts but his doctor only glares back harder. “In a bit. I need go back outside to see the others and then I’ll rest! But don’t you know what I was thinking about? Its really coooool!”

Chopper has stars in his eyes, personality a complete 180 from the strict doctor he was moments ago?

“Really? Tell me! Tell me!”

“Well it was just that I have the doctor of the future pirate king on my ship who can fix up any of us! Even Zoro! And Brook and he’s a skeleton! You’re the best Chopper!”

The reindeer immediately becomes cursingly bashful, hitting Luffy lightly on the chest (still so conscious to avoid the spots of blood on Luffy’s shoulder. Its starting to hurt.) “You asshole! Being nice isn’t going to make me like you more!”

“But I’m not! I’m just saying what’s true!”

If it’s possible, Chopper becomes even more bashful, but his smile is wholly sincere. The rigidness in his shoulders slowly seems to melt out of him, the tension that had been there even since Zoro came in bleeding out organs, and Luffy came in hazy from Sea Stone, almost gone as he gives Luffy a hug.

In an adorable gesture, Luffy bends and gives a nose kiss to Chopper, making them both laugh with joy, all worries now completely gone in the face of their happiness.

Well… almost all of their worries.

Chopper suddenly transforms into his tallest form, giving him easy reach to all of Luffy’s wounds.

“Now Luffy – let me chance your bandages okay?”

Luffy tenses but nods, allowing his doctor to change the bloody swathes of fabric around his shoulder. The blood is sticky, and it pulls at Luffy’s skin as Chopper peals it away, but Luffy make no noise, only lets Chopper do his job. His hands are always gentle with his patients, no matter what form he’s in.

Chopper prods at the wound, seemingly pleased with the heal process, but then prods at Luffy’s shoulder blades and collar bone, noting how his ribs can be seen against rubber skin. “Luffy.”

Uh oh. Luffy knows that voice. He’s in trouble.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Ummmm…” Luffy doesn’t even try to lie, even if he does stall. “This morning before the Marines attacked.”

Chopper eye’s narrowed. The rest of them had went and gotten sandwiches from the kitchen while Sanji cleaned up, but if Luffy hadn’t gotten any…

Well it was evening now. And breakfast had been interrupted.

“Luffy.” His voice was scolding. “What did we talk about?”

“I know! I know…” Luffy knows (doesn’t know why he sometimes pushes off food when he knows his body needs it, more than most, knows how sometimes he just… can’t, despite his voracious appetite) how his doctor feels about it. “I’m going to Sanji right now! Look!”

“Not without me finishing your checkup you’re not!”

It’s another ten minutes before Chopper finally ushers him out and by then Luffy has been thoroughly admonished and ready to meet his cook.

Which he does, by stretching out his arms and launching himself koala style onto Sanji’s back.

“Shitty Captain!” Sanji roars, but the way he shifts to accommodate the weight so effortlessly betrays the fact that he’s used to this act by now (and welcomes it.)

“Hiya Sanji!” Luffy places his head on Sanji’s shoulder, wrapped around him like a rubbery octopus, watching him make dinner. “What’cha making?”

“Meat sandwiches.”

“Yum!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sanji says, and Luffy watches his hands shake.

(The battle had not been hard on Sanji – no mistakes or grievous injuries, but his cook is the kindest person on this crew and Luffy knows how much he hurts when others hurt, knows how much his cook hurts when he can’t help, can’t make all their problems go away with a meal or a friendly hand or a harsh kick. He’s kind and it kills him, but Luffy wouldn’t have his cook any other way.)

Luffy makes a soft noise and reaches out to touch Sanji’s hands, saying nothing (because Sanji has always spoken in actions when it comes to himself.)

“Sorry Captain. Meal will be ready soon.” Sanji’s tone is apologetic, sorry for the fact that he can’t make science and cooking bend to his need.

Sometimes, Luffy’s cook is funny like that.

“It’s okay. I can wait.” He doesn’t add the fact that he’s not that hungry, but his cook doesn’t need to hear that.

And wait he does.

He mumbles stories next to his cook, about the time he grabbed a giant sea king from the sea and Usopp had said it looked like a goldfish but Luffy could swear it was a hippopotamus, about the story Robin read to him two nights ago about a kid and treasure up in the sky (The ships could fly in space Sanji!), about how good Sanji’s meals taste, about how he always feels full afterward, about how he’s lucky to have Sanji on his crew.

And every so often, he places his hands on Sanji’s, stopping the trembling.

And every so often, his cook smiles a bit more, not stiffening about the ribs felt through his captain’s shirt anymore.

Sanji finishes the meal with a grand flip of a tray, giving a show to the captain grinning over his shoulder.

“Eat up Shitty Captain. I don’t want to see a single crumb left you here me? I know you’re hungry.”

“Shishishi! Of course!”

In a whirlwind if movement, Luffy dashes off of Sanji’s back and faces his from the front, hands gentle as they push the hair off Sanji’s face and love in every movement as he kisses his cook right between his swirly brows.

“Thank you!”

Sanji has a dopey smile on his face before he realizes what happened and brandishes his spatula. “LUFFY!” he shouts in faux rage, but he’s smiling, laughing, and that much joy is back in the Straw Hat pirates.

And all Luffy does is (attempt to) smile back with his mouth full of delicious meat sandwiches.

“Thank’s Sanji!”

When Luffy is finally full according to Sanji’s standards, he dashes out to meet Brook, humming along to a quiet song that Luffy can’t quite place.

“Brook!” he says happily, staring up at the man. He can feel Jimbe’s eyes on him, and Zoro shifted over in the corner, but the skeleton appears to have not have noticed.

“Brook? Brook!” He tries again, attempting to catch his attention.

But Brook’s attention is far off – the kind he gets on stormy nights, on foggy nights, when the world around the ship is quiet and dark and sunlight is nowhere to be found.

A frown crosses Luffy’s face.

This won’t do.

So he starts to hum his own song, something up beat and happy, something that Brook’s lonesome song had strayed from when Luffy wasn’t looking.

As he does so, he pulls Brook down to the seat behind him, sitting with him as he hums and pulls the violin slowly out of his grasp. The bony hands are limp and unresisting as Luffy does so, and fall into his lap when Luffy places the violin firmly out of reach.

(When Brook’s feeling loud and brave and bold – he uses his guitar, the mark of the soul king.

When Brook’s quiet, or happy, or peaceful, or sad, the violin is his weapon of choice – sometimes its hard to tell when he is the Humming Swordsman or Future Musician of the Pirate King or simply Last member of the Rumbar Pirates.

His music is his tell though.)

While he hums, slowly calling Brook out of the fog, he takes a look at Brook’s hands.

As weird as it may sound, he likes his nakama’s hands, scarred and soft and metal alike. He likes holding them, feeling the heartbeat, observing the marks on each and the stories they tell.

Robins are hard, used to tough environments and fighting with her hands – Sanji’s are soft, a cook’s hands, unweaponized and for his friends. Usopp’s and Zoro’s are calloused from weapon holding and Brook’s…

Well Brook’s are all bone. There’re no scars to tell him what his life is like (do you see the scar on Luffy’s thumb? The pierced hole through his fists?) or what he likes to do, but perhaps the bones are all he needs.

Speaking of loneliness and death, but also long and slender. There are grooves on the end, where strings cut into softened bone, and all are held together by seemingly nothing at all.

Luffy leans into Brook’s side, slotting himself under one arm, humming forcefully.

Gather up all the crew

Its time to ship out Bink’s Brew…

He’s here, with Brook, and if Brook can’t come back to himself right away, too lost in his mind, and the night sky, and nakama almost lost, then that’s okay. As long as he comes back eventually, it’s okay.

Luffy reaches the end of Bink’s Sake and starts again, lifting a bony hand to his lips and pressing a firm kiss to it, humming all the way through.

He’s here, and Brook isn’t alone, if he only would come back to them.

And come back to them Brook does.

“Ah – Luffy?”

“Brook!” Luffy says cheerfully, happy to see his musician back.

“I apologize… I drifted off it seems… I had been meaning to be playing a cheerful song, to lift us up from that dreadful battle, but I suppose thoughts of… well death swamped my mind… even though I have no brain inside this skull, Skull Joke!” Brook says, slowly and then with renewed cheer in his voice.

Luffy smiles. If Brook can make a skull joke, then all is well as it can be.

“That’s okay Brook. Can you sing a song now? A happy one! But not a party one! Like an in-between one!

“Yohoho! I believe I have the song for that, Captain. Have you eaten? Did Chopper redress your wounds?”

Luffy blinks at the out of the blue question and then huffs. “Yep! I’m all good! We’re all here!”

It’s okay if Brook nags him. Luffy knows he only does so because Brook has experienced loss too.

(Yorki, Brook sometimes mumbles out on foggy nights, Yorki, please don’t go.)

“Very well then Captain! A song dedicated to our triumph today!” And so the melody starts with Brook humming, the picked up violin swaying in. Luffy himself sways in place to the tune, a cheery, peaceful thing.

“I’m glad you’re my musician Brook.”

“I am too, Captain. I am too.”

Jimbe knows his turn is next, Luffy knows, feeling his eyes follow him up the steps to the helm.

“Luffy.” He says calmly, but it’s a forced kind of calm, the kind like peaceful waters with a pulling riptide underneath. His helmsman is worried.

“Jimbe!” Luffy replies with enthusiasm, before sobering up, know that while Jimbe needed to let loose sometimes (There were no responsibilities chaining him down on the Sunny-) he appreciated it more when Luffy was serious.

Which Luffy would oblige.

Sometimes.

“Are you okay?” Jimbe did not need hands held and fears assuaged – he did not need gestures of affection (though Luffy will give them freely) but needed words instead. Vows were what bound Jimbe, vows and promises of honor, and brutal honesty was in his every word.

Luffy liked that about Jimbe – he was kinda like Zoro, held promises to the same level, but Zoro could be more ruthless then Jimbe sometimes.

“I am… alright Captain.” And sometimes Jimbe did this, used his words to dance around the question, and Luffy wanted to scream.

“But are you okay?”

Jimbe averts his eyes from Luffy’s at that, gaze towards the storm. “No Luffy. I am not.” Jimbe’s older than Luffy, old enough to remember a time before the Pirate King, and different than Brook in that he’s not gone half insane during his life. He’s worldly, and the way he admits that he’s not in control to Luffy is another level of loyalty entirely.

“I… I failed today. I am supposed to help guide this crew, answer to the navigator in these rough waters, steer the ship to safety, but today… Today I did not. Today I neglected my duty, failed to maneuver us out of a battle where our sturdiest warriors were already hurt…” His view falls to the bandages around Luffy’ shoulder, stark white against sun kissed skin.

“But you didn’t.” Luffy says simply, hopping up to sit on the railing besides Jimbe. “You didn’t fail. In the New World we all have to be ready but today we weren’t. And that’s okay. We’re alive, aren’t we? And you did get us out – you smashed a hole in that Marine Ship didn’t you?”

Jimbe huffs, a smiling quirking from a fanged mouth. “I suppose I did.”

And Luffy knows his helmsman will be okay. But to make sure…

Luffy stands atop of the railing and presses a kiss to the side of Jimbe’s forehead, soft and sweet, and full of the devotion a captain must have for his crew. Jimbe’s smile, small, grows bigger and he lets out a laugh.

“Thank you, Captain. I believe you have one more person to see?”

Jimbe’s so smart, of course he knew what Luffy was doing!

“Yep!”

“Then go – and then rest or I will make you.” Jimbe threatens fondly, and Luffy can only laugh.

He loves his crew.

“I will! Zoro’s sleeping anyway!” Or at least he will be until Luffy bounds over – he always wakes up for Luffy.

“Of course.”

Zoro doesn’t wake up for Luffy, but that’s okay. Luffy doesn’t need to reassure Zoro, though he does appreciate the nice pillow that Zoro makes.

Zoro knows already, what Luffy would say – or rather, what he wouldn’t say because Zoro already knows.

(They’re confusing like that.)

Zoro knows that he’s alive, that his mistakes just mean he needs to train more, that every fight is practice until he fights Mihawk, that this wound, wet where Luffy presses against Zoro’s bandaged side, is just encouragement to work better.

Besides – it wasn’t from a sword (did he see the shrapnel flying towards him from Pinky’s devil fruit? Did he even know it was a thing? It doesn’t matter.) so its okay.

But still… Fit in the slot between Zoro’s arm and his body, he can feel the bandages, slightly wet with blood pressing up against his own bandaged side.

Zoro got hurt today.

But he’s still alive.

Luffy sighs, and sinks further into his spot, hat slipping off his head as he feels the pulse of Zoro’s heart beat against his cheek.

The battle’s past, and his crew – all of his crew is okay.

There’s a pressure against his head, Zoro’s lips giving him a short kiss against it.

Luffy only laughs.

Zoro’s just making sure that he’s okay too, just like he did with the rest of the crew.

His first mate is the best.

So Luffy beams, giving Zoro a look that tells him all he needs know.I’m okay too.

Now – his crew is quiet and peaceful, the kind after a storm where you know everything is finally going to be okay, and there’s a sun in the sky. No one is anxious, fighting back tears or holding shaking hands.

The Straw Hat Pirates are at peace. Now all Luffy needs is a nap and everything will be right in the world.

So against his first mate’s side, the captain of the Straw Hats sleeps at last.

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confictura2517 · 5 years

Text

Without the Void - part one

Started a small fanfic inspired by my idea that Umbra and his Operator would spare in the transference room. Not sure where I’m going with this, but we’ll see lol. Hope it’s good!

(Sorry for the crap picture quality)

Transference happed in a bright flash of light and energy, as Berylian leapt out upon the battle ground in a wave of void energy. He landed running, black boots drumming, as he sprinted for cover. Gunfire cracked in the dry air, giving it a foreign, yet familiar, scent one he was unaccustomed to directly inhaling. The wind touched his face, paired with the splash of water drops from the small water hole to his right. Berylian slid behind a large rock, looking back as he straightened. Sliding behind cover, he straightened and looked back.

Behind, a blast of energy announced the flight of radial javelins rippling outwards, impaling the closest assailants. Their guttural growls and dialect were lost in pain filled screams as the missiles sliced through Grineer armor unhindered. The smell of blood joined the other scents.

Berylian held his breath at the scent of blood, feeling how it made his stomach twist up in knots. He centered himself, swallowing down the discomfort, and turned upon the Vomvalysts that had drawn him out. They winged past him, small energy bolts shooting towards him. Berylian slid aside and aimed, sending a stream of void energy in one’s direction. The Vomvalyst briefly quaked, then turned white, before vanishing.

The soft plop of a sentient core landing in the dirt was Berylian’s reward, and he turned upon the second.

Around him still came the sounds of fighting and dying. Close by, the grey form of Umbra leapt elegantly passed, bullets sparing through the air where he’d been seconds before.

The second Vomvalyst vanished, core dropping, and Berylian hurried to collect both. He scanned the trees growing up to the left of the watering hole. A small flash of dark metal, hovering away in the foliage, made him turn and race after it. The glimpse had been nearly lost in the fading daylight, as the sun slipped behind the horizon over the plains. Berylian loved to watch the sunrise over Eidelon, hence their arrival upon its plains sometime earlier. He’d similarly needed to visit Old Man Suumbat for several gems.

Upon leaving the large gates, ones that Berylian couldn’t look at without recalling flashes of the Orokin, they’d only travelled a short distance before being set upon by a Grineer patrol. Even from the transference room, Berylian had been able to feel the anger which instantly encapsulated Excalibur Umbra. Berylian relaxed the transference, allowing Umbra to more freely rampage after the Grineer, moving like a great righteous hurricane with his swift Skiajati. Sudden laser bolts slamming into Umbra’s back, and the unexpected pain that came with it, had made Berylian to flinch as he felt the impact through his frame. Umbra turned, allowing Berylian to spot the incoming Vomvalysts. In the moment of distraction, a Grineer opened fire, bullets piercing into Umbra’s shoulders, with the sickening thunk Berylian so hated.

Reacting upon instinct, Berylian transferred from Umbra and set upon the Vomvalysts., allowing Umbra the freedom to hunt the remaining Grineer, without the pesky sentient’s harassing him.

Now, Berylian dodged into the trees, moving light on his feet. He slid around roots and rocks, ever keeping the bobbing Vomvalyst in his sight. The cool of the wind felt alien on his exposed face, and the sound of crickets and rustling leaves was so much louder than when he was one with a frame. Brown, dried grass brushed against his legs. The sensations bordered on offsetting, but he centered himself quickly to remain on task.

Ahead, the Vomvalyst suddenly paused, releasing several shots. Berylian slid to the left and responded in kind.

Suddenly, there was a rumble. Beneath Berylian’s heel, the dirt crumbled away. He lost his balance and stumbled backwards. Something big and cold, made of living flesh and armor, impacted the rear of his shoulders. The contact was so unexpected that Berylian twisted, blindly releasing a blast of void energy. The force knocked both himself and the other thing backwards several strides.

The ghostly white Vomvalyst burst away, escaping into the night.

Berylian caught his breath as he turned and laid eyes upon the thing which had so suddenly materialized.

Not materialized. He realized with a jolt. Burrowed.

Rising to its mangled legs from the eidolon soil was a Ghoul. Its fleshy body seemed to glisten, twisted metal armoring and weapons gleaming in the dying sunlight. With a torrent of guttural shrieks, it flew at Berylian.

Berylian sent a beam of void energy straight at the thing’s head. The Ghoul did not waiver in tis attack and swung one knotty arm at him. Berylian ducked. The edge of the Ghoul’s forearm plating clipped him in the head. The headpiece Berylian wore dug painfully into his skin. Startled by the impact, he released a second blast.

The Ghoul dropped its sword. Both mutant hands rushed for Berylian’s throat. He aimed his amp, but no energy answered.

Mutated fingers clawed around Berylian’s neck, power of them knocking his slighter body backwards. Stars filled his vision, and not ones from the quickly darkening sky overhead, as he was slammed painfully against the ground. Small rocks and scratchy grass dug into the back of his suit. The Ghoul leered over him; its foul breath hot on Berylian’s face. His elbow hit the forgotten Grineer sword hilt, and he looked at it wildly, but hesitated. His fingers clutched the burly wrists connected to the hands suffocating him.

Berylian had felt the sensation of choking before. The memory was sharp and painful, the panic that came with it like fire in his blood. His vision fragmented between seeing the stalker looming over him, and the reality of the ghoul. No! Berylian would have screamed if he could breathe.

A paralyzingly howl split the plain around them. The energy it caused made the air feel like electricity. Berylian saw white light from the deafening sound. Before him, the ghoul was sent careening over Berylian’s head and it hit the ground. The impact jolted the Ghoul’s hands from his throat. Cold air slapped Berylian as he choked in several breaths. The stars dotting his vision began to clear. He gasped, staring up at the now dark sky overhead. Storm clouds were gathering. Moonlight escaped through a thin spot and edged the overcast in silvery light which illuminated the sparse trees surrounding the short area. Rocks looked like glass, the nearby watering hole like Fortuna coolant.

Coughing made Berylian roll to his knees, hand touching his throat. His jacket had protected his skin from damage. Suddenly, there was a sharp zing of flesh being cleaved, and warm drops splattered across Berylian’s face. He jerked at the unexpected contact, realizing it was hot, Ghoul blood running down his cheek. The understanding twisted his stomach into a thousand knots. This, and the shock from memory of the stalker, made him heave.

Cool, bone-breaking strong fingers, ones that were now impossibly gentle, gripped Berylian’s shoulders. Wiping his mouth upon his sleeve, Berylian turned to meet the angry, concerned tilt of Umbra’s helm as the Warframe studied him.

“I’m fine,” Berylian coughed.

Unconvinced, Umbra’s hands quickly patted down Berylian’s arms and chest, ascertaining himself in his own way that the Operator was telling the truth.

“I promise,” Berylian added, but didn’t stop Umbra.

Upon finding no injury, Umbra abruptly scooped Berylian into his arms and began to walk with long, swift strides to the water hole. He paused, gently setting Berylian down on his feet, and stooped to dip his cupped hands in the water. Lifting a handful of water, he washed the blood from the Operator’s face.

Berylian held his breath as Umbra did, willing himself to not hurl again in front of the Warframe. Normally he had better control over the reaction to blood, but the sensation of the Ghoul’s blood seemed to burn his skin. The cold water helped, but his skin still seemed to be pulsing where the substance had dripped. He glanced back into the trees and saw the remains of the Ghoul now gutted and strewn across the dry grass. The cleaves clearly delivered by Umbra’s Skiajati.

Umbra finished his self-appointed task and gripped Berylian’s shoulder. Berylian looked up into the expressionless helm, and swore he saw anger and concern written across it more plainly than any frown of lips or crease of a brow could convey.

“I promise,” Berylian replied. “I’m fine. I didn’t have any energy for a void beam.”

Umbra nodded once and let go. Berylian felt gentle pressure in his mind, originating from the sensation of the transference link. Realizing what Umbra wanted, he obliged, vanishing in a burst of energy and light. Umbra stood alone now upon the plains, surrounded by the wreckage of the attack. He silently summoned the archwing. It appeared above, adhering to his body as he leapt skywards. The thrusters roared as he streaked back across the plains towards Cetus. The cold air washed across his armor, sending river lets of Grineer blood streaking across his dark body. They reached Cetus quickly, and Umbra boarded the drop ship to return to the orbiter.

Siting within the Transference room, Berylian frowned at the unexpected action, but did not raise protest. Instead, he severed the link and stepped from the pod.

“Operator, is everything – is that blood?” Ordis’s voice spiked aggressively.

Berylian looked down, realizing Ghoul blood streaked his jacket. “No,” he quickly replied and hurried to the personal quarters to change. Ordis began ranting about safety, words which Berylian hardly heard as he quickly shrugged out of the jacket and pulled on a fresh one.

“ – What madness might have possessed you to put yourself in harm’s way – I will slaughter the Grineer who – I am so sorry, though, I do say that the Grineer – Must pay for trying to harm the Operator – “

“Ordis I’m fine,” Berylian quickly interrupted. He was about to continue when he felt the unmistakable shudder of the Orbiter’s plating as the drop ship reattached. Moments later, the entrance to the personal quarters folded back and Umbra strode in.

Instantly Ordis’s voice filled the room with sharp reprimands, interrupting himself with angry threats, at the sight of the Warframe. Grineer blood made red trails across the dark armor, smeared by the wind of the archwing. Burns marked the impact sights of bullets and lasers alike. The bioflesh making up Umbra’s body was already starting to form small ridges and bumps where bullets had penetrated. Soon, Berylian knew, the bullets would be forced back out of his flesh as the wounds automatically knit themselves closed. Blood had soaked into the grey scarf wrapped snuggly around Umbra’s neck.

“ – How could you allow the operator to be placed in harm’s way?” Ordis was screeching. “He might have been lost again - you useless - ”

A formidable growl, rising in ire, rippled out of Umbra, silencing Ordis’s insults instantly. The cephalon made several scratching noises, like a tape resetting, as his demeanor became reserved once more.

Umbra gently brushed past Berylian to the somachord station. He lifted a small screen lying there and turned around, typing out words across it, before holding it out to Berylian.

Accepting it, Berylian read it.

What happened?

Feeling suddenly sheepish in light of the incident, Berylian explained.

Umbra took the screen back, erased the question, and wrote a new one.

Why did you not utilize the Ghoul’s discarded weapon?

Berylian frowned, thoughts rushing back to the moment, and recalled the fallen sword. He gave a helpless shrug. “The Orokin they…they only taught us with weapons used by the warframes.”

The tilt of Umbra’s helm betrayed surprise, mixed with a sudden loathing. A soft growl left him and he typed aggressively upon the screen.

You do not know how to use weapons yourself?

“I understand the theory, the application of them,” Berylian explained guiltily. “But – no – the Orokin were only interested in us learning to control the warframes. We can use the void; they never saw a need to give us weapons.”

Umbra was shaking his head and typing before Berylian finished. Just as my void abilities, yours require energy. Were you being drained of such energy; how would you survive? If cut off from your Warframes, from me, how would you defend yourself without energy?

Berylian could only manage another shrug of the shoulders. But he swallowed, implication of Umbra’s statement sinking in. Even Ordis seemed silenced for once.

After a pause, one during which it seemed Umbra felt his point had been made, he typed again.

Does any weapon in the arsenal catch your eye?

There was a tongue-tied pause. Berylian sucked on his cheek, considering the question. “The Skana?” he looked up. “Every tenno’s first Warframe used one. That or a bowstaff.”

A dash of humor was exposed in the hold of Umbra’s shoulders. A bowstaff would be too much too soon. You are not tall enough to effectively wield one. The Skana is a sound choice. It is a light and quick blade, and not too large, yet effective. You must learn to wield it.

“You’re going to teach me?”

Umbra’s demeanor almost seemed offended that the Operator had to ask. He held up the screen after a moment of pointed typing.

Yes. I will fetch the Skana.

“Wait, now?” Berylian jumped to lay a hand on Umbra’s arm as the Warframe turned to leave. “But you’re injured.”

The regal angle to Umbra’s helm announced he considered himself to be fine.

A glance at the still bloody exterior of Umbra’s body, and the ridges forming where his flesh sought to force out the bullets, made Berylian quickly lie; “I’m tired. Can we not start upon the morrow?”

“Yes,” Ordis bustled. “The operator requires rest.”

Umbra hesitated, angle of his jaw showing reluctance to stand down.

Berylian pretended to yawn.

Demeanor clearly stating that he saw through the façade clear as glass, Umbra nodded once. Tomorrow.

#warframe #operator #excalibur #excalibur umbra #fanfic #headcannons

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skyhopedango · 5 years

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not-anime that I’ve been watching lately

I rarely write about non-anime or manga related stuff here, but why not...

What We Do In The Shadows (TV): Well, this has already wrapped up, the first season anyway, but I have to scream about it because it’s SO GOOD. As someone who loved the original movie I'd been apprehensive when I heard that a TV show was being made with a different cast, but all my fears were unproven! The new cast is great - they’re tons of fun individually and as a group, they have great chemistry - the jokes are great, just generally the whole thing is great. And while I do love Nandor a ton (he’s my favorite) I relate to Guillermo so much. (...I need to quit my job, really) This show is brilliant, everyone should watch it!

Chernobyl: And now, for something completely different... The Chernobyl catastrophe has always low-key intrigued me, not in the least because I was a small child when it happened, living in a neighboring country, so in a very (very) indirect way I was affected as well. And yeah, the show is great. It’s been clearly well-researched, and while some things were obviously changed for dramatic reasons, from what I know it’s fairly faithful to reality (well, reality as we know from researchable sources). It’s not something to watch for a happy fun time, but it’s something that really cuts to the bone.

There’s one funny thing about this show though, and it’s seeing people’s reactions to certain things about it. From the people talking like it’s ancient history as if many people who lived when it happened weren’t still alive today (myself being one of them), to people reacting to the Soviet way of handling a catastrophe of this nature. All the “lol no way they were that incompetent, it’s only for drama” “lol no way the politicians were so callous, it’s only for drama”... guys, no, that was actually how shit happened around here back then. Sure, there’s some dramatization going on, but not about this part.

Good Omens: I started watching this yesterday. I’m on episode 4 right now, and as someone who loves the book, and was sort of looking forward to this show, I have to say it’s... really not doing it for me, unfortunately. It’s getting too late for me to structure my writing so I’ll just list my reasons:

- The narration is so bad and so annoying. Yes, I know they’re just trying to showcase the witty writing from the book (and some new additions) but 99% of the time the narration is terrible and unnecessary. It either acts as superfluous exposition (SHOW DON’T TELL, DAMMIT, so many things handled by the narration could have been conveyed much more effectively with action), or it just tells us what we already know as if the showrunners thought that viewers are idiots who need to be spoon-fed every little detail. Episode 4 has a particularly egregious example, where the narration actually goes “What Adam thought was real was coming true” - well shit, you don’t say? we’ve been watching Adam’s imagination becoming real the entire episode, it wasn’t exactly subtle.

- If at least it was a random narrator doing the narration. But the fact that it’s God herself just makes it worse. One, an important aspect in the story is that as all this shit is happening nobody knows what the hell God is planning. God's great plan being “ineffable” is a key detail! So having God narrate the whole story (including elements that feel completely weird coming from God, of all beings) is just so weird.

- Which is a symptom of a larger issue with the writing, the direction and just the general production, I guess. It’s just so... idek, a show like this should have really needed a creative, quirky touch, a writer and/or director with a strong and secure hand. But the direction here is just so... mediocre, I guess. It’s just unimaginative and lacks creativity and ambition in ways that one wouldn’t expect from this production. Like, the demons are all dark and ugly and filthy and evil! the angels are all light and squeaky clean! (Never mind the book mentioning that demons’ wings are exactly the same as angel wings, only better groomed which doesn’t really point toward Hell and demons being the sort of filthy, ugly mess they are in the show.) Aziraphale summons Metatron and a huge glowing head appears in a pillar of light! Crowley terrorizes his houseplants, and they visibly tremble! And so on, it’s just really so mediocre and unimaginative. Like, seriously, look at how they handled Death.

- On the topic of angels and demons, I’m really not digging the show’s portrayal of Aziraphale and Crowley. Like, they’re probably leaning way too hard into David Tennant’s star power here, but I really don’t like how they keep showing Crowley as so cool! and smart! and edgy! - even though he’s supposed to be a huge dork who bought petrol for his car only once, only so he could get a fake bullet hole sticker. Smart, sure, but a massive dork. Meanwhile Aziraphale is portrayed as a lot more naive and hapless than he is, he comes across as a hopeless idiot even though he’s supposed to be at least as savvy and crafty as Crowley, only in a more roundabout, angelic way. It’s really annoying because one of the things that I like about Aziraphale in the book is his moments of sarcasm, all the ways he’s going around his angelic limitations to do what he wants... but in the show he’s basically a hapless, hopelessly naive idiot who couldn’t find his own ass without his cool, smart & edgy demon boyfriend’s help. I'm very much not looking forward to this characterization gaining ground in the fandom.

- (and on that note, as someone who does actually ship them, I’m not sure what I think about the show going out of its way to make them shippy. Sometimes it’s funny, but sometimes it’s kind of forced.)

- Also, wtf is up with the production values. They’re so bad - the wigs, the costumes, the world design (all those “old” books don’t look old at all, etc.), and holy shit, the VFX are awful. Wasn’t this supposed to be a prestige production? Crowley’s eyes look so hilariously fake, why couldn’t they at least give him contacts that cover the whites of his eyes or something?

There’s only 6 episodes so I might as well finish it, but... yeah, not a fan of this one. Pity.

#good omens #good omens tv #what we do in the shadows #wwdits fx #chernobyl #chernobyl hbo

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easilydistractedbyfanfic · 5 years

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The 100 Ask Game

Thanks for tagging me, @mamabearsdontthink - this looks like FUN!

1. What Station on the Ark would you be from?

I have a pretty green thumb with houseplants and outside flowers and some fruits/veggies. I could realistically be in Farm Station, I think, though Factory might be a fit too.

2. What would you get arrested for on the Ark?

Political protest, for sure. Possibly with regard to the hierarchical aspects of their society and/or the representation of the people in the lowest stations.

3. Would you take off your wristband when you landed on the ground?

No, not at all if I was aware that people on the Ark needed to know we were alive in order for them to also be saved.

4. What would the necklace Finn would make for you look like? (Clarke: deer/Raven: a raven duh..)

Probably a rabbit or an owl, based on what I like and have jewelry about

5. If you could resurrect any MINOR character who would it be?

Jacapo Sinclair, no question

6. Create a squad of 5 characters to go on missions with. Who are they?

Raven, Diyoza, Abby, Luna & Murphy - yeah that’s gonna be wild and I might die but it sure would be fun beforehand

7. What Grounder Clan would you belong to you?

I’m from the area of the Boat People and could see myself as a member of Floukru although I might miss land and gardening

8. What would your name be in Trigedasleng? (example: Octavia=Okteivia…just make it up!)

Jenn = let’s go with Jynn

9. Thoughts on Finn? Some people hate him, and others love him, so I’m curious

Disliked him fully upon first viewing but after rewatch I think he had some merit. He was not loyal to Raven but I don’t think he did it on purpose

10. Be honest. How willing would you have been to take the chip without knowing all the horrible things it does?

Nope, I would be a holdout. I don’t give in to peer pressure, I’m a skeptic and I’ve lived a long time without ever smoking a cigarette or doing drugs, plus I like organics and refuse to invite Alexa or Siri into my home. Yeah, don’t trust The Man, man! LOL

11. What character do you relate to most?

Oh, Raven, easily. We are not the same, but I get the way she made herself strong by focusing on what she was good at and burying the hurt, and her constant desire to keep the painful emotions bottled up. She’s outwardly confident but inwardly worried, and she tells herself all the time “I’ve got this” even when she’s freaked out.

12. What character do you like the least?

Dr. Tsing, that horrible horrible horrible so-called “doctor”

13. Describe your delinquent outfit. (Would you wear something like Murphy’s jacket with the spikey red shoulder patch or have a trademark like Jasper’s goggles? Be creative, yet practical)

I don’t like to be dirty and I hate being cold, so I’m in dark colors and probably bundled up compared to others. My favorite color is blue though, and if I am from Floukru, maybe I have a dark blue jacket or a shirt with blue patches on it. I would also always carry an extra pair of socks in case my feet got cold.

14. Favorite type of mutant animal?

There’s not many to choose from

15. What would your job be on the Ark?

I could see myself working a bit undercover like Nigel, getting covert things for people or making deals, although my regular job might be for Farm Station

16. Would you have willingly pumped Ontari’s heart if Abby asked?

yeah, I could do that

17. If Lexa wasn’t Heda, but she was still alive then who would have made the best commander?

I’d pick Indra. She was kind of blood thirsty in the beginning and turned away Lincoln from Trikru, but she proved open to other suggestions, she learned to trust Kane and she even avoided killing Pike although she wanted revenge because she realized they needed him to complete the mission they were on. So later Indra, not early Indra. Otherwise probably Luna.

18. How would you act if you ate the hallucinogenic nuts like Jasper and Monty?

Hmmmm.... I get overly affectionate when drunk, so if that’s any indication, I should probably stay away from those nuts

19. How would you have dealt with Charlotte’s crime? A more John Murphy approach or Bellamy Blake approach?

Consequences with compassion - hopefully the Bellamy Blake version

20. Who should have been the Chancellor, if anyone?

Jacapo Sinclair, mostly because he wouldn’t have wanted the job. The best leaders are the ones who are least likely to want power

21. Would you have been on Pike’s side like Bellamy or on Kane’s side? Or Clarke in Polis?

Kane’s side

22. Mount Weather had a lot of modern commodities. (example: Maya’s Ipod) What is the one thing you would snatch while there?

Ingredients for food like cake and other desserts. Yum!

23. What would your Grounder tattoos look like? Hairstyle? War paint?

I have a rune compass tattoo at the base of my neck. I might have more tattoos if I was a Grounder, but not obvious ones - maybe inner wrist, maybe something on my ankle or behind my ear. They would likely be symbols of things or types of characters that would provide protection or inspiration of a life goal. No war paint, I don’t think, though that could change if the cause were just. For hairstyle - I wear my hair down about 98% of the time, so maybe there would be some small braids but I doubt my hair would ever be fully pulled back.

24. Favorite quote?

You know, it’s not well known, but Murphy tells Ontari that “It’s better to lie your way out of a problem than kill” and that always sticks with me. Plus anything Sinclair ever says to Raven (oh my heart)

25. If all of the characters were in the Hunger Games, who would have the best shot at winning?

Luna, because I think she could outlive everyone either by fighting until the death OR by stomping off by herself and outlasting everyone out of sheer willpower

26. Least favorite ship? Favorite canon ship? Favorite non canon ship? NOT INCLUDING CL OR BC OR BE

Least: I have never been onboard the mem0ri train

Favorite canon: Murphy & Raven and their whole dynamic

Favorite non-canon: Murven but now there’s sex

27. A song that should be included in the next season? If there had to be another guest star like Shawn Mendes on the show, who would you want to make a cameo?

"What’s Good” by Fenne Lily or “Bill Murray” by Phantogram for songs in the show. For a guest star, I could really get behind Pink being someone who lives on the new planet and is kinda crazy and all about being a strong female leader. She could do something wild or she could do some haunting ballad that would make us all have feelings and I could so see this now

28. What would you do if you were stuck in the bunker with Murphy for all that time?

Is this a trick question? I mean, there was wine in that lighthouse bunker, and I already said what happens when I get drunk.

29. You’re an extra that gets killed off. How do you die?

I wanna go like Sinclair, barrette dad or David Miller - protecting someone I love. It would probably be Raven, honestly.

30. A character you’d like to learn more about and get flashbacks of?

Diyoza

31. A character you’d bang?

Damn, this is a revealing quiz. I’d totally bang Diyoza but this question probably needs it’s own list

32. Would you stay in the Bunker? Go up to Space? Or live on your own in Eden?

I’d probably prefer the Eden environment, but ultimately I’d go to space even if it scared me and felt claustrophobic because I would need peer relationships

33. In the Bunker, would you follow Octavia? What would you do to pass the time underground?

yeah, I’d go along but mentally I might be preparing my eventual escape - creating a fantasy world to escape from the reality of it all

probably read and learn some kind of martial arts

34. What crime would you commit in the Bunker that lands you in the fighting pits?

I don’t like to recite pledges or make oaths I don’t intend to keep

35. Up in Space, who would you bond with first? Who would be the most difficult for you to get along with?

I’d get along with Raven right away, and not just because I love her but because we do have some things in common and I could put up with her snark. Tougher would be Em0ri if she was being mean to Murphy like in S5

36. How long do you think you would last on Earth by yourself?

I think I could go awhile if I had berries, leaves and water as choices. If I had to eat bugs though, I’d probably find a way to kill myself quickly. I’d eventually get lonely, which would be a problem, but if I could find books I’d last a hell of a lot longer too.

37. When the Eligius ship lands what do you do?

Watch for a while, for sure. See if I could find a way to lure them away from my area for good.

38. Favorite Eligius character? Least favorite?

Diyoza is my favorite for sure

least favorite - McCreary but in a I love to hate him way

39. Would you Spacewalk?

No. I love roller coasters but I wouldn’t bungee jump either

40. Would you prefer to eat Windshield Bugs, Space Algae, or Bunker Meat?

Algae if I had to pick, otherwise my life would totally be in danger because I’d be so repulsed

41. Would you start a war for the last spot of green on earth? What would your solution be to avoid it?

I’m up for diplomacy and would keep trying til all options were gone before I’d head to war. Maybe inter-marriages, or skill trading/trainings

42. Would you rather dig out flesh-eating worms or stick thumb drives into bullet holes?

Thumb drives into bullet holes since at least I wouldn’t get infected by that

43. Are you willing to poison your sister for the Traitor Who You Love? What would you do to stop Octavia?

Yeah, if I thought the biggest chance would be that it knocked her out rather than kill her, and that having her out of the way would mean peace

44. Would you go to sleep in cryo or stay awake like Marper?

Sleep along with my faves

45. Who are you waking up first to explore the new planet?

Not too different from the show, maybe, although I would have sent Indra down to explore with that team since she’s an experienced leader and fighter, but if we wanna go a bit fantasy like for a moment, then I’d wake up Raven & Murphy and “accidentally” lock them in a closet together for as long as it would take.

Consider yourself tagged if you wanna participate, and I’d love to read your own choices!

#the 100 ask game #the 100 #this was revealing

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serendipitousrambles · 5 years

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Writing tag

tagged by @janes-mike thank you! :)

Answer 10 questions about your writing process, then tag 10 writers whose process you want to know more about. The point of this game is to have fun.

1. How do you get your story ideas? How do you know when something is worth writing and when it’s just a fleeting thought or fantasy? Tell us the origin story of one of your past or current WIPs.

I just get random ideas at random points in the day and i’ll make a note but now i’m at uni (and trying to be an adult ew) i have less time to actually write and it’s so upsetting.

Or i’ll watch a film i love and i start thinking how it could be a mileven au, or i just take those cheesy tropes like best friends to lovers etc.

I don’t currently have a wip but i have an idea for a fic i really want to write. Maybe over the christmas break i’ll actually get down to writing it because i have a whole month off at xmas so we’ll see. (i won’t tell you now in case i do actually write it, but lets just say its got lumax and mileven, and its a kind of “enemies”/mild dislike to lovers)

2. What are your writing tools of choice? Are you picky? Do you have specific brands you like? If you have neuroses in this department, we want to hear about them.

I just use google docs because i’m too lazy to manual save, autosave has saved my life haha

3. Where and when do you write? Morning? Dead of night? Your bedroom? The park? Paint us a picture of your usual surroundings when you sit down to write.

I used to write on a google doc tab on my phone in front of the tv or in bed but now i use my laptop in my room - on the weird occasion i do write. i don’t mind a bit of background noise like a youtube video but for some reason i can’t with music because i can’t focus and end up singing along

4. Do you ever encounter writer’s block? If so, how do you overcome it? Any tips to pass on to other writers reading this?

if i get writer’s block i usually leave the fic i’m doing and i’ll come back later to see if i have any ideas, but really for me i just have to wait it out until i randomly think of a solution at 3am

5. Do you outline? If no, why not? If yes, what kind of outlines do you make, and at what point in your writing process do you make them?

I try and make outlines but its just a few bad bullet points of key moments, but i always get carried away with writing and end up not including some of my points because i’ve gone off and written stuff that just won’t work anymore in the orignal plan

6. When and how do you edit? After the first draft? During? Do you have a method, or is it kind of a free-for-all?

lol editing whom? i maybe edit the odd spelling or grammar check but tbh i don’t really go back and edit unless i just completly change my mind with where i want to go or i find a massive pot hole. but mostly its just keep moving forward

7. Is there anything about your writing process that other people might consider to be unique or weird?

don’t think so, i guess maybe the no editing might be weird but apart from that i don’t think i do anything odd

8. Do you ever take breaks from writing? For how long do these breaks feel rejuvenating, or do they stress you out? Give us a sense of what life is like when you’re not writing.

i used to just sit and write out about 2/3 chapters (my chapters aren’t really that long usually only around 2000 words at most) which is why i used to post every few days. but i haven’t really written in forever so i guess i’m taking a long break

9. When do you first start writing? Why? What’s changed since then, if anything?

I used to write stories all the time when i was little, but i didn’t start writing and posting fanfic until may 2017 when i would write harry potter, star wars, and legend of zelda fics, but now i write stranger things with the very odd anne of green gables fic (on my other blog @carrotsofavonlea ) but its still mileven who basically owns me

10. Anything else you want to tell us about your writing process?

nope not really?

#thank you for tagging me #i couldn't think of anyone who hadn't been tagged already

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whitecanary-lance · 6 years

Photo

BASICS.

Full name: Sara Quinn Lance

Nicknames:

Age: 31

Date of birth: December 25, 1987

Zodiac sign: Capricorn

Gender identity & pronouns: She/Her/Hers

Sexual orientation: Bisexual

Faceclaim: Caity Lotz →

CHARACTER.

Relationship status: Single and content

Place of birth: Starling City General

Birth order: Second Born

Spoken languages: English, Latin, Arabic

Accent: American

Parents & siblings: Quentin Lance ( father ), Dinah Lance ( mother ), Laurel Lance (sister)

Hometown: Star City

Key relationships: Laurel Lance ( sister ), Felicity Smoak ( pseudo-sister ), Nyssa al Ghul ( ex lover ), Jason Todd ( ex boyfriend ), Ray Palmer ( friend/teammate ), Amaya Jiwe ( friend/teammate), Nate Haywood ( friend/teammate ), Mick Rory ( friend/teammate ), Jax Jefferson ( pseudo brother / former teammate ), Martin Stein ( friend/ former teammate ), Carter Hall ( friend/teammate ), Kendra Saunders ( friend/teammate ), Leonard Snart ( friend/teammate ), Candice Reeves ( teammate ). →

PERSONALITY.

Positive traits: sly, steadfast, adventurous, loving

Negative traits: tactless, scornful, extreme, sordid

MBTI type (x): ISFP -- The Composer

Moral alignment (x): Chaotic Neutral

Enneagram type (x): The Protector

Temperament (x): Sanguine

Big Five personality type (x) Openness →

PHYSICAL.

Hair color & style: Sara, naturally, has dirty blonde hair with the ends lightened with all the sun exposure.

Facial hair: None-- but let’s be real if she did, she’d still be beautiful as hell.

Eye color: Blue

Complexion: Fair with freckles along the tops of her cheeks and along the bridge of her nose.

Ethnicity: Eastern European/ French

Height: 5′6

Weight: 126

Physique: Sara is a tiny person but she carries a more muscular build.

Strengths: Physically speaking, Sara has a mastery in long and short sword. An extensive knowledge in tai chi and other mixed martial arts. Due to her time spent abroad, Sara’s capacity to endure different climates and elemental changes has formed her ability to adapt. She also has a sickeningly high pain tolerance.

Weaknesses: Sara’s inability to connect on an emotional level when dealing with her own demons leaves her open to the bitter chill; this affects the way in which she deals with certain moral situations.

Movement: Fluid yet precise much like in the teachings of iaido ( a style of japanese martial arts )

Mannerisms & habits: Sara is an excitable human being. She talks with her hands and pretty much every part of her body when she feels like it’s needed. She can also communicate feelings and thoughts through subtle movements. Sara doesn’t allow life to swallow her faith in the future. It’s within that class of thought that allows her to being life and humor into everything she does.

Tattoos: Sara has two little ‘X’s on her wrist as well as a small canary tattoo on the inner corner of her heel.

Piercings: Piercings are prone to being ripped out. She used to have multiple piercings as a teenage.

Scars & birthmarks: Sara is scarred over 35% of her body. Small marred patches of skin along her back from crash on Lian Yu. Long slash marks across her back from her initiation into the League. A cluster of shrapnel removed and scarred along her calf from a grenade in Algiers. A single bullet hole on her shoulder from a .38. A wide gash like scar from being impaled by a spear.

Clothing & style: Sara has quite the street style way of dressing. A lot of henleys, utility jackets, and combat boots. Considering her time on the waverider, her chose of dress is also dictated by where they are geographically in time. →

BEHAVIOUR & HABITS

Personal habits/addictions: Sara is a pacer by nature. She likes to constantly be moving. Moreover, it’s one of the last lessons of the League. You couldn’t be killed if you’re always on the move. She also has a slight addiction to anything overly sweet ( like gummy bears ).

Morning routine: Sara starts her day reviewing the temporal map that outlines all the anachronisms with Gideon. While the rest of the crew is still sound asleep, she trains in the cargo bay for about an hour and a half. Finally, when everyone’s wake, she reconvenes in the Captain’s quarters for some zen time.

Afternoon: By the afternoon, something has either busted, broke, or is on fire. Sara is usually zoom in and out of time.

Evening routine: Some evenings don’t find their end. If there’s a tear in time, she can hardly feel the shift between day and night in all the chaos.

Sleep habits: Sara’s sleep averages between three or so hours. She’s very restless with all the pressure that came with her position on the ship. On top of her duties, Sara is naturally a night owl. It’s the time she feels the most herself.

Does this character snore? Sometimes.

Any special talents or skills? Besides being an amazing lover ( lol ). Sara is quite the baker. It was a passion she had before stepping onto the Gambit. There weren’t many things that she could best Laurel except when it came to cooking. Sara often used to watch their mother in the kitchen when they were young; it all seemed to stick.

What is s/he particularly unskilled at? Sara isn’t particularly skilled in the art of compromise. It’s the Star City in her that coated her with an unfathomable amount of stubbornness.

Does s/he have a supernatural ability? If yes, describe it. Does being kick ass qualify?

→

OTHER

Current address: Sara currently is a resident of the Waverider. The Time Bureau wasn’t tried to collect the stolen time ship ( woo! ). When she isn’t floating about time, Sara shacked up with Star City’s other technical genius, Barbara Gordon in her old watch tower.

Does s/he rent or own? As Captain--she technically owns the waverider.

Does s/he live with anyone? If so, who? Her team of course!

What is their bedroom like? Sara’s quarters are decked out in chrome, per the general aesthetic of the waverider. She has pictures of her family scattered along the love hanging curve of the ceiling. Her belongs nestled in a black duffle by her bed for a rapid exit.

FOR FUN: What side would they land on?

Neutral

Morally Grey

#ccfwritingprompts

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pizzamaximoff · 7 years

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Motorbikes and Medical Care (Jason Todd x Reader)

(lmao of course I used Matthew Daddario for a Jason Gif)

The beginning was inspired by this prompt. Yes I know the title is shit.

Warnings: Slight Gore (only a lil) and Violence, cringey fluff, a lil moody Jason. Italics are a flashback thingy. Also not beta’d lol Word count: 3,100

Lungs burning, legs aching; every step they cried out in protest. They begged for you to stop but the adrenaline rushing through your veins from crown to toe was fuelling your every movement. The loud and gruff shouts of the gang of brutes chasing you pierced through the night sky. Bullets flew incredibly close to you, narrowly missing and clanging loudly on the air ducts and various other parts of the rooftops. Ah, the lovely sounds of Gotham’s nights. Maybe you should move to Blüdhaven, possibly Star City? You skidded the corner of the building taking a sharp turn before not-so-gracefully jumping over the ledge to the next rooftop. The men yelled, promising to skin you alive or cut off your slippery fingers once they got hold of you. Some still raining bullets down as you made your way down the fire escape. You moved quickly: it was only a matter of time before they managed to find another way down and continue to hunt you. By now the adrenaline was wearing off, heavy pants left you as you doubled over in exhaustion and pain. You walked forward and winced, a sharp pain in your side. Gently brushing a hand over your side you recoiled, the blood on your fingertips clearly indicating a bullet had more than grazed you. “Shit.” you whispered out through clenched teeth. Suddenly, this little job didn't seem as fun as you first thought.

Vaulting yourself over the back of the couch, you popped down onto the cushioned leather surface. You had climbed in through the apartment window, silently and carefully, the sudden noise startled the short black haired woman facing away from you. She spun around, instantly moving to a fighting stance, teeth bared. Her snarl disappeared within a moment as she looked over you. She stood up straight, a bright smile on her face and open her arms for a hug. You grinned back, quick to stand and join the embrace. “Hey Auntie Selina! It's good to see you!” In truth she wasn't really your Aunt, just a close family friend, looking after you as a teenager after your parents passed. You followed in her rather bad footsteps, stealing and causing trouble. She didn’t approve at first but as you got older she learnt to let you go ahead. After all even if she tried to stop you, you’d still find a way to sneak out and wreck havoc. She taught you how to fight, how to be even more sneaky and many other of her tricks and trades. She smiled into your hair, mumbling something about how she missed you. It had been a few months since you’d last seen her: as an young adult you wanted to try things by yourself, you moved out of her apartment and found yourself a nice little place. You felt it was time to visit again. You talked for hours, eventually ordering a takeout and chatting into the night. In all honesty you came yo ask her something, you placed down your utensil, setting the empty plate on the coffee table in front of you. She sensed your change in attitude and followed suit, looking expectedly up at you. “Selina, can I ask you something?” You looked her in the eyes, her bright green ones glowing in curiosity like a cat. “Sure, (Y/N) , you know you can ask me anything” her voice as sincere as ever as she reached over to place a hand on your knee. “Do you think I could rob some of Falcone’s men?” You asked. She burst out laughing, causing your eyes to widen. “God (Y/N), I thought you were going to ask me something deep. Of course you can dear, I have the upmost belief in you. Just be careful with the guns though, and promise me you’ll call me when you’re done.” She smiled brightly at you, yet there was something hidden beneath those green eyes. “Sure thing Auntie!”

The heavy footsteps could be heard again, echoing throughout the twists and turns of the alley way. With a groan of both pain and annoyance you began to run again, albeit much slower than before. You reached the end of the alley and the voices were getting louder, closer. Quickly looking left and right you noticed a motorbike at the end of the dark street. As you reached the sleek vehicle you noticed it came with a rider. Broad shoulders covered by a thick brown leather jacket. A head of slightly wavy black hair, a streak of white only just visible in the low light. His eyes were tired and heavy, but the blue was still piercing and strong. He hadn't seemed to notice you yet but that was soon over as you jumped on the back of the robust bike, jolting him in the process. He turned to face you, those baby blue eyes narrowing at you, “What the fuck are you doing on my motorbike?” His scowl intensified, as you wrapped your arms around his middle. The group of Falcone’s goons burst out of the alley, guns in hand ready to shoot. You whipped your head back forward before shouting at him,”JusT DRIVE!” His eyes widened at the gang ready to riddle the pair of you with bullet holes. At a tremendous speed he pulled on a red helmet, completely concealing his handsome face and gorgeous hair. You took no notice of it at first, too eager to get out of the situation at hand. He sped off in an instant, the engine roaring with power like a panther. As the bike moved faster, weaving in and out of the traffic of Gotham, your grip on his waist tightened: you really did not want to fall off any time soon. What felt like seconds was actually 20 minutes and he came to a final stop in some sort of underground bunker. How you got in, well you weren’t paying attention to that. With shaky arms you pulled away from him and tentatively stepped off the bike ( causing you to wince in pain), him following soon after. You were getting fainter, all the running around had brought you to the brink of exhaustion. He removed the helmet and shook his locks, you staring in awe at the beauty. That was shortly over as he turned to continue glaring at you. His hand resting on one of the guns in his holsters. “Who the heck are you and why shouldn't I shoot you?” His rough voice had a smoothness to it, if it weren't for the gravity of the situation you would have been in a daze. You were too weary to be scared and so you held a hand up signalling for him to wait a moment. Looking up at him it was then you realised who he was. The red helmet and the red bat on his chest, he was The Red Hood. It was blatantly obvious. You groaned again, of course you'd manage to run into the merciless ‘vigilante’. “If you really wanted to kill me, you would’ve left me back on the street, Oh and thanks for not doing that” You spoke, your voice was weak at this point. He looked at you, skepticism etched onto his handsome face. “Look if you help me, maybe I can give you some of these?” You say, reaching into your pocket to pull out a couple of bedazzled chains, covered in jewels and precious metals. Taking a few of the Falcone’s most precious jewels was easy at first but, being the over confident self you are, you cocked up the exit process finding your way into the guards game of poker. Whoops. His eyes widened at the stones clutched in your hand. It’s not like he needed the money (evident by the gadgets and state of the bunker) but a little extra cash never did any harm. “Fine. I can do that” He spoke, voice seemingly disinterested. You rolled your eyes and chucked them at him haphazardly. He caught them one handed and you rolled your eyes again. It it was at that point he realised you were bleeding. He stepped towards you, lifting you up and causing you to squeak. He smirked in return. Making his way to a couch in a more relaxed area. “So are you ever gonna tell me your name or? I’m (Y/N) by the way. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He knitted his eyebrows in confusion at your rather spritely attitude as you proceeded to bleed. Placing you down onto the sofa he left to another area, quick to return with some medical supplies. He looked down at your side, the flesh not looking so good. “I’m gonna need you to lift your shirt, babe” You flushed at the pet name, usually you would cringe but when it came from him you quite enjoyed it. You did as he said, lifting the thick black material to your ribs. He proceeded to gently clean the wound, stopping when you winced to give you a moment. No words were spoken as he did so, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. He required you to stand as he kneeled, wrapping the soft bandage around your middle. Once done he made you lay back again before standing. The silence was broken as he spoke, “You can rest here for the night, it’ll be safe here.” He spoke plainly, picking up all the supplies in his arms. Before he walked away you spoke up. “What about tomorrow?” You said confused on his generosity. “We’ll discuss what to do then, just rest for now” He began to leave the small area but just before rounding the corner he stopped, turning his head to you one last time. “Oh and my name’s Jason” With that he sent you a charming grin and made his exit. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the sight and you let out a soft sigh. The lights flickered off and before you closed your eyes you whispered to yourself, “What a night”.

The next morning you awoke confused and warm. A deep burgundy blanket gently wrapped around your form. It took a moment for you to understand, your brain hazy with the veil of sleep before the memories came flooding back to you. You sat up quickly before collapsing back as a sharp pain ripped through your side. You shrieked at the feeling, holding onto your wound. Moments later Jason ran in, his hair disheveled. He was dressed casually, the dark red shirt he wore complimented his muscles rather nicely. He sighed in relief. “Jesus, I thought you were dying or something.” He chuckled taking steps towards you, he perched himself on the arm of the sofa, smiling down at you. “It bloody feels like I'm dying.” You grunted, struggling to pull yourself upright. He chuckled again at that. “First time being shot I’m guessing?” He asked and you looked up at him, eyes meeting those piercing blues. You stuttered over your words, feeling yourself getting lost in the beauty. “Y-yeah, well I'm usually much better at this. I'm mean most of the time people never notice I'm there. In and out in a jiffy” You said giving him a little smile through the pain. He gave a small laugh before shifting his view to your bandages. The blanket had been pushed to the side at this point. He let out a curse causing you to look back down at yourself and gasp too. The bleeding had started up again and had passed through the gauze. “I think you may need some more medical attention.” He spoke moving from his seat to pick you up. He walked through the main area of the bunker passing a large computer system and towards a large area of sorts. You grimaced at the movement and thought of where he would be taking you. “I’m not going to a hospital, just drop me off at my Aunt Selina’s place and she’ll know what to do.” Jason froze at the mention of your Aunt’s name. You turned to him, curious to why he stopped. He looked at you, eyes wide and brows raised. “Selina, as in Selina Kyle?” He asked mouth slightly ajar. You nodded, head tilting soon after. “You know her? How?” after speaking it hit you, If he was Red Hood he must have known her as Catwoman. “Oh!” You exclaimed. He continued to stare in shock. “You’re her niece? The one Bruce mentions?” You explained to him your relationship with her and it takes him only a moment to understand, you then ask him of his with the billionaire Bruce Wayne. You had met him a few times through Selina. He’s eyes narrowed slightly at this, clearly there was some form of drama between them. “Speaking of him, he might kill me if he finds out I let Selina’s dear niece bleed out. So maybe we should get you sorted”. You hummed in agreement and he smiled before leading you to a car.

Jason had taken you to Wayne Manor, feeling it would be the best place to get help without having to explain to the hospital what happened. You were greeted by well mannered older gentleman, who introduced himself politely as Alfred Pennyworth before ushering you to one of the many glamorous bedrooms. Bruce wasn’t home at the moment, much to Jason’s pleasure (He wasn’t too keen on a scolding from the Bat for not getting you sorted soon enough). The wound had to be stitched and and dressed properly which the butler carried out. You were rather shocked at his skills, but didn’t dare question it, fearing it may seem rude. Sure the process was painful but Alfred insisted Jason stay by your side for moral support; in other words you used him to grip your nails into to distract the pain, turning him into a human pin cushion to his dismay. Soon enough it was over, you thanked Alfred only for him to assure you it was no problem. You then apologised to Jason for the rough treatment. He let a pained smile appear on his face as he rubbed his palm. Alfred had left the room to clean the blood and Jason stood but before he could step away you grabbled his wrist, causing him to turn to face you. A flush rose to your cheeks as you averted your eyes from his. Quietly mumbling more to yourself than him. “Could you stay?” He smiled at this, a bright and genuine one, and a fine dusting of red blossomed on his cheeks. “Sure thing.” He laid next to you, the grip on his wrist slipping to his hand which he welcomed by gripping your hand back. “This was my room, you know?” he spoke, his voice quiet and remorseful. Your eyes scanned the room, clearly that of a teenage boy, before turning to face him. He faced up a small almost sad smile on his lips. Noticing your stare he turned to face you and your eyes met once again, this time none of you broke away. You let yourself sink in the cerulean pools. He was gorgeous. A soft smile made its way onto your lips as his other hand cupped your cheek. “Hey, I’m glad you jumped on my bike last night, you're quite an interesting one, cute too”, you giggled softly at this. “You’re not so bad yourself, Jason” He chuckled in response before sighing. Silence fell and the sun set. Soon enough you drifted into the realm of sleep, the soft sounds of Jason’s breathing lulling you to sleep.

Selina hurried at Bruce’s side, the tall man walking up the steps of his manor. Night had fallen and Selina was beyond worried. “Bruce I need you to help me, I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her.” She was desperate, he had never seen her like this, tears welling in her once bright eyes. He was eager to help, this emotional side of Selina having him shocked and worried. “I knew I should’ve followed her, God I was so stupid to let her do this!” She continued, voice beginning to wobble with anxiety. The grand doors of the manor were pushed open, Bruce called out for Alfred, there was no answer for the foyer was dark and silent. No sign of the Englishman. Bruce flicked the lights on, the brightness filling the manor with warmth again. However, it was short lived as Selina gasped in shock. A light trail of blood before them. She took in a deep breath and recollected herself. Bruce muttered a quiet “Stay close” and begin to follow the trail, creeping through the manor and up the stairs. As he was about to round a corner on the landing they were met with a most startled butler. “Master Bruce, Miss Kyle! You scared the living daylights out of me!” Alfred scolded quietly, holding a hand over his heart. Bruce’s eyes widened and he stood straight again. “Alfred where were you? What happened?” Bruce questioned indicating to the blood stained wood. “Ah that would be Master Todd, he’s brought home a rather injured young woman, My apologies for not being there to welcome you but I must get back to cleaning this. Oh, and try to be quiet, he’s managed to fall asleep, I wouldn't want to wake the young Master.” With that Alfred was off again. Bruce was rather confused, Jason rarely came to the manor. He walked to his old room; the door was already cracked open. Carefully he pushed the door wider and to say he was shocked would be an understatement. Selina noted his out of place expression and moved to his side, curious to see the cause. Her jaw dropped too, for there you lay curled up against Jason. One of his arms lay across your waist, the other beneath your head. Facing each other in a peaceful slumber. Selina recovered and let out a sigh at your safety, as Bruce was still in shock at the sight of a peaceful Jason. “I gotta thank you Bruce, looks like your angry kid kept her safe”. She smiled at him, pecking him on the cheek before leaving to go help Alfred. Bruce soon returned to his usual state, yet a soft smile remained, he couldn't be happier seeing Jason look so peaceful and content, something he hadn't seen in a long time, something you made him.

A/N: Aye I’m pretty proud of this, I love Jason so much I just can’t, someone help me. Rose Colored Boy is gonna be late: I got no clue were I’m going with the story at the moment as I didn't like how I planned it before. So send me some requests while I figure out what I’m doing.

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therealrosebuddies · 7 years

Text

A Speedster's Halo

DESCRIP: the daughter of Bruce Wayne shows up needing the Flash's help. She has powers- but can't control them. And it only gets more complicated from there.

(Maybe new series?? It gets good- i promise lol)

When the Flash had gotten the distress signal- he really had believed it was Oliver. I mean- it had said it was from the Arrow; who else would have had the right frequency for STAR labs anyway?

Well- he probably should have been more careful.

Barry sped into the small abandoned building from where the signal had come from- on the outskirts of gotham. The building looked like it had been closed for years, and maybe it used to be an old laundromat. Barry opened the dusty glass door, the creaking echoing throughout the store.

“Oliver?” The Flash asked, squinting into the dark.

No one responded.

Weird.

“Barry- is he there?” Caitlin asked, coming through his earpiece.

“I don’t know,” He replied, slowly moving past the cracked and peeling walls of the room. A piece of linoleum cracked under his foot, making him jump. “But this place is a lot creepier then it should be.” Barry continued, looking up warily. Just as he was about to move forward again, something stumbled out from behind the old counter top. It was a girl- at least he thought it was.

“Oh thank God it’s only you.” The voice said shakily, sounding like her throat was stuffed was cotton. She sounded happy- but Barry wasn’t entirely sure. He held up his arms.

“Hold up- you're not the Arrow.”

“Well that’s pretty obvious- I’m not exactly wearing green.” The figure moved away from the old counter, starting to come into the dim light. Before she could, Flash pointed more forcefully.

“Hey, hey wait, you can’t just trick me into thinking you're a different person and not expect me to be suspicious. How’d you get that signal?”

A moment of silence passed. The girl sighed, the breath echoing around the once empty store.

“It wasn’t that hard, and honestly I would love to explain that to you,” The girl said, slowly coming into the light, “but I don’t think I really have the time.”

That’s when Barry saw it, the dark blood leaking from between the girl's fingers. She had her hands pressed up against her right side- which had already been wrapped in a jacket. The girl smiled up at him, her entire body shaking.

“I guess we really will have to talk about this later.” Barry rushed over, gloved hands brushing over the girl’s bloodied ones. For how much she was bleeding, she seemed to pretty tough- and handling it well. Except once she felt the Flash next to her, her body knew it didn’t need to try and keep itself up anymore. Her knees buckled, dropping her.

“Woah!” Barry yelped, catching her against his chest. The girl’s eyelids fluttered, head lolling. ”Hey, wait- no you’re going to die- I’ve got you. I’m taking you to the nearest-”

“No-no hospitals! please.” The abrupt urgency that immediately changed her hazy eyes to sharp and wild ones were what convinced him. This girl was in danger. He had to help her.

“No hospitals. I promise. Now hold on.”

And with that- they were gone.

Y/n’s POV

The first thing you heard was loud chewing.

You hated loud chewing.

You grimaced, feeling an oxygen mask strapped to your face. A bright light hung above your head, turning your eyelids red. The chomping continued- but it was joined by humming. Turning away from the noise, you slowly opened your eyes.

You laid in what looked like a hospital bed, tucked under white sheets with what you gathered was either one really big pillow or three smaller pillows supporting your head. Turning your head again, you winced at the bright light above. You looked up at the loud eater, and saw a guy who you assumed was your age. So this was the culprit. You looked him up and down, as he had his back to you. He did a small kind of dance- he was humming- single ladies as he looked at one of the machines.

Honestly- it was pretty funny. But having that bright light in your face was not. You looked down at your body, which was covered with EKG stickers. They monitored your steady heartbeat, keeping everyone informed on whether or not your where dieing.

So you ripped them off.

The machine monitoring you flatlined, and the boy who had been dancing jumped.

“Holy sh- What?” The guy stopped, his momentary shock giving way to disbelief, “Why would you do that?” He said, drawing out the word why longer for emphasis. You looked at him, still lying with your head sunk into the pillow. Removing your oxygen mask, you pointed up at the light.

“It’s kinda bright.”

“Well you could have just asked!” The loud chomper ran over to the light, and begrudgingly turned it off.

“Thanks.” You said, smiling. The guy looked down at you, keeping a disapproving frown on his face.

“Sure…” The guy looked around, tucking his longer black hair behind his ears, making them look bigger then they were. And not in a bad way- a funny way.

“Listen-” The guy pointed at you with both hands clapped together, “ I have to call my friends- please don’t do anything- like what you just did. Okay?”

You nodded, making a serious face.

“Yes sir.” The ‘sir’ snorted (he’d never been called sir before- it sounded weird. Or maybe cool?), but quickly covered up his laughter with a frown.

He went to go call his friends. You watched as he walked out of the medical bay, and into the large room outside. Once out of sight, you leaned forward in the bed. A burning pain raced up your side, and you let out a small grunt. Your back fell back onto the pillow, letting your side relax while still letting you evaluate your situation. You lifted up the edge of the once white shirt, exposing your bandaged wound to the world. You cursed, happy that they had actaully treated you- but also frustrated because you couldn’t look at your own bullet hole. You looked up at the ceiling, a sigh escaping your nose as you trailed your hands over were you assumed the damage was.

Well- there was nothing so far…

But before you could figure it out, a burst of wind rushed through the room. You snapped up, this time ignoring the pain. You wanted to see it.

You looked out from your room, seeing him.

You thought you had been hallucinating when you first saw him- but now it was real.

You hoped.

The Flash stood in the middle of the room, clad from head to toe in red. Before, you didn’t think it was going to be that red- but there he was, looking like a big maroon twizzler. You admired his guts, so you decided if you ever got a suit you would want it to be just was bright and obvious as his. The Flash was close to the guy who had called him, talking excitedly.

And then he looked at you.

Right then you realized- this was going to be a long one.

#barry allen x reader #barry allen imagine #barry allen #the flash x reader #the flash imagine #the flash #cisco ramon #cisco imagine #reader x dc #dc reader insert #reader insert #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #barry allen x you

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name-me-regret · 4 years

Text

White Roses For My Sister - Chapter Two

White Roses For My Sister Chapter Two: All The Bad Things

Summary: Peter Parker is pretty sure he’s cursed...

Author’s Note: I know that in the earlier chapter, Billie is born earlier than the comics, and Morgan is also born earlier than in MCU canon, but I changed this for the purpose of this story. Also, the timeline is distorted in this chapter, some things that happened in canon were moved up.Also, I think I got ahead of myself when I said twelve chapters. It might be less, but if anyone reads these (lol) I’ll let y’all know here if the estimated twelve chapters changes. For now, let me know what you think.

Read it on AO3.

- - - - "Bad things happen to the people you love And you'll find yourself paying the diamond above But honestly I've never had much sympathy 'Cause those bad things always saw them coming for me

It would take some time just to see me shine For the whole world to see me here with all of my light But honestly I've given up on all those fights So that one day I'll have you all wrapped up in my light

I'm gonna run, run away, run, run away, run away Runaway and never come back..."

~Bad Things - Cults - - - -

Peter could hear them crying, his aunt and uncle, and his uncle never cried. It must have been a very sad thing if even Uncle Ben was crying. The four year old didn’t know what could have happened, since before they’d been having a good time.

He wasn’t a good at sports, and his asthma didn’t let him run around too much, but today he had played catch with his uncle. His dad use to play with him, but he had been too busy lately. Peter wasn’t mad at him, because he knew they had important jobs. So, Peter had to be good and not give them any trouble. He wouldn’t complain or cry when they couldn’t play with him, and one day maybe they would see how good he was being and they’d spend more time with him.

That had been the plan his four year old mind had come up with, and didn’t know that the day would never come.

- - - -

Peter wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. He had told the eight year old not to, that it would be their little secret. It was just that... he wanted to tell his aunt and uncle.

He didn’t like what Skip was doing, not one bit. Peter had said he didn’t want to play that game with him, didn’t want to see those adult magazines he’d forced him to look at. In fact, Peter hated it.

Skip said that everyone did it, and it was supposed to feel good. The older teenager had told him not to tell, made him swear he wouldn’t say anything.

Peter didn’t like to lie, but he had done it for a good reason. At least, that’s what he told himself as he went to his aunt and uncle.

- - - -

Peter Parker sat in the chair in the police station, flecks of blood still on his face. He felt numb as he stared down at the concrete floor, his eyes burning from having cried for so long. The ten year old was sure he had never cried as much as he had that day, not even when they had told him his dad and mom weren’t coming back, ever.

The only family he had left was gone, and Peter wondered if he was cursed. Perhaps he had been born under a bad star, or someone had placed a curse on him. Because the boy could find no other explanation as to why he kept losing the people he loved.

“Peter?”

The aforementioned child lifted his face to look at the police officer. He knew his uncle, but at the moment Peter couldn’t remember the man’s name. At the moment, he pushed it aside and looked at the woman that had walked up with him. She had semi-business attire, a cheap suit from Jcpenny that looked to have seen better days, some flats that didn’t match the dress and hair that had been haphazardly put in a sloppy bun at the back of her head.

“Hi, Peter, I’m Margaret Reed, I work with CPS. You’re going to come with me until we can either find a relative you can stay with, or a foster parent becomes available. Until then, you’ll be staying at a home for boys.”

She smiled reassuringly at him, but Peter could see the bags under her eyes that gave her a haggard appearance. Peter wondered if he was ever going to leave that home, or if he’d disappear in the system like so many others.

Even so, he stood up and followed her, leaving behind his old life, which had once been a happy trio. Now, Peter was the only one left.

- - - -

Ned glanced at his friend, worried about how quiet he had been since his uncle and aunt’s death. He’d tried to invite him to his house to build his new AT-AP Walker, but he had just silently shaken his head. Even Flash’s usual taunts had had no effect on him, even if the bully had toned down after the death of his aunt and uncle.

He wasn’t going to give up though, because that’s what best friends did. Besides, he was Ned’s only friend and Ned was Peter’s only friend. They had to stick together. After school he’d insist they hang out, build the Walker and have fun. Ned would save his friend, at all costs.

The sound of gunfire was heard through the halls of the middle school. Their teacher, Ms. Gonzales’s head lifted sharply, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. All of the students had gasped at the sharp sound, tensing in their seats. “Everyone... stay here,” she said, moving quickly to the door.

She opened the door, seeing the teachers from other classes doing the same. “What was that?”

Ned and Peter looked at each other, worried as they heard more of those sharp sounds and that was followed by screams. Their teacher slammed the door closed and locked it. “Everyone get to the supply closet, now!” she whisper shouted.

They had a small class that day, since a lot of students were out due to the flu that was going around the school. So, their usual fifteen had been reduced to nine, but even then it would be a tight squeeze.

She ushered them inside, helping Betty as she tripped over her desk and carried her the rest of the way. Peter and Ned were the last ones in, since they usually sat at the front of the class. Most of them were crying by then, and Peter could feel Flash at his back, the bully sobbing against his ear and he instinctively grabbed onto Ned as he also gulped in shaky breaths, face wet with his own tears.

Ms. Gonzalez was breathing heavily as she looked them over, standing in the open doorway. “Don’t some out, no matter what,” she told them, a determined look crossing her face as the sound of gunfire started getting closer.

She closed the door, locking it and all of them were plunged into darkness. They flinched as they heard something being dragged across the ground, and then something else as whatever it was was shoved against the door of the supply closet. They realized that it was their desks, one after another pushed up against the door.

The sound of a door slamming open was heard, followed by a woman’s yell and the loud sound of a weapon going off. Peter felt Flash’s hold tighten so hard around his arm he was sure he’d have bruises later.

All of them screamed as the gun went off again, something slamming into the heavy wooden door with a splintering sound. Then the sound of gunfire came again, and Peter heard Ned yelp in pain and he felt something warm splash against his face. All around him everyone was screaming as they listened to the gunfire, and light was coming through the bullet holes in the door.

Then they heard it, the clicking of an empty chamber, and a frustrated shout. Whoever was outside started banging against the doorknob with something, and the children cried as they feared he would get in. Before he could, there were more yells, running footsteps and fighting.

“Cecilia! Oh God! Hold on!” a man’s voice yelled, the shouting getting farther away.

“K...kids... help them,” a voice whimpered, then a gasp.

“Cecilia!”

Peter pressed against the door, Ned slumped down at the floor and Flash trying to push as the other kids cried out for him. They could hear the person outside pushing the desks aside frantically.

They all screamed as the door was wrenched open easily, since the doorknob had been complete destroyed. “It’s alright! You’re safe!”

It was their history teacher, Mr. Lloyd.

“Sir, Ned,” Peter sobbed, unaware of the blood on his face as he crouched over his fallen friend. Ned’s shoulder was bleeding, and the man removed his cardigan and pressed it against the wound. “Is h-he gonna die?” the eleven year old whimpered, his brown eyes pleading with the adult to tell him otherwise.

“No, he’s going to be fine,” the man reassured. He could tell that the bullet had gone cleanly through his shoulder. It was a miracle it hadn’t hit anyone else as it had exited the plump boy’s body, and it must have imbedded into the wall behind them somewhere. “Is anyone else hurt?”

Betty lifted her hand, also crying like the rest of the others. “I think I hurt my ankle,” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve.

“Alright,” Mr. Lloyd sighed, sounding shaken despite his calm demeanor. “We’re going to get out here... I need everyone to hold hands with the person closest to them. Then I need you all to close your eyes.” He didn’t want them to see Cecilia’s body, not wanting to traumatize them anymore than they had already been.

Mr. Lloyd had tied the cardigan as best as he could around Ned’s shoulder, looping it under his armpit. The boy was out cold, most likely from the pain, and it was a small mercy. He lifted him in his arms with a grunt. “Peter, grab onto the back of my shirt, and don’t let go.”

Peter obeyed him, using one hand to grab his shirt and his other was being held by Flash, neither boy worrying about the fact that they were holding hands. Peter and Flash just wanted to get out of there, the latter wanting to be held by his mother. As for Peter, he was almost glad his aunt and uncle were gone, because if not they would have been terrified right now. He was glad if only to spare them this.

Even if he wished he could also be held by someone that loved him.

As the kids moved out of the supply closet one by one, eyes squinted closed and trusting their teacher to lead them out safely. Only, Peter found his curiosity get the best of him and peeked his eyes open, and immediately regretted it.

Ms. Gonzales lay in the middle of the room, almost where Liz Allan’s desk had been, and her limbs were akimbo. Her eyes were wide open and unseeing, blood dribbling out of her mouth and pooling around her body which had been riddled with several bullet holes.

Peter slammed his eyes closed with a keening noise, but the image was burned into his mind, her unseeing black eyes staring up at the ceiling. “It’s alright,” Mr. Lloyd called, “we’re almost to the hallway. Keep your eyes closed.”

It was too late, Peter had seen her. He had seen her and he would never ever be able to forget her. Her smiling face whenever he got a difficult math problem right was replaced by her face twisted in agony, covered in blood. She was dead, had died trying to save them all, and for no reason that Peter could understand.

Peter lay in his bed in the boy’s home he’d been staying for the last four months, breathing in shakily. They’d turned off the light almost an hour ago, but he and sleep could not find one another. For when he almost managed to start to doze off, the memory of Ms. Gonzalez’s body would pop to the forefront of his mind and he’d startle awake with a gasp. So, he could only lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as he tried to remember how to breathe properly.

In and out, making sure they weren’t rushed for fear that he’d have an asthma attack. He hadn’t had one in months, not since his aunt and uncle had been killed, and he hadn’t been in the hospital because of his since he was eight. That had been a difficult time for Peter.

His breath hitched dangerously into asthma territory and he forced himself to stop thinking of anything and just the shaky breaths he was taking; in and out.

As he lay awake most of the night trying to breathe carefully, he decided that it was too dangerous to love anyone else. After all, he had loved Ms. Gonzales, who always had a kind word and smile for him; especially after his aunt and uncle had died. She had helped him understand a tricky math problem and gave him more advanced work when he had asked for it.

Peter had loved Ms. Gonzales, and now she was dead. He loves Ned and he had almost died. His love killed people, and was determined never to love anyone else again.

- - - -

The twelve year old stared at the man and woman in front of him, not quite understanding what was happening. Perhaps he was dreaming, but that seemed unlikely. While he had nightmares and the occasional insomniac night, he tended to get enough to function as a normal human being. So, he knew he was coherent and awake.

That made him try and analyze the man and woman again, the very familiar power couple. There was no way he could comprehend what he’d just been told, and it wasn’t because he was stupid or anything.

Peter went to Midtown Junior High, and his hard work all through junior high had paid off since his place was already reserved in Midtown Tech (the high school one). His grades never dropped from the top five in the whole school, and excelled in his after school activities (he had to drop almost all of them except robotics, mathletes, and decathlon, because MJ hadn’t let him).

He could still go to Midtown when the time came, but would have to get a scholarship to do so. Even then, it would only pay his tuition and not his textbooks. He’d already found a solution for that, since Mr Delmar at times needed help stocking the shelves. Peter would be able to make some money after school to pay for his textbooks, and also put some minutes on his phone.

After the school shooting, Ned’s parents had moved their whole family to Massachusetts. Because apparently, “Mom says there aren’t any school shootings there, and besides, it’s closer to MIT”. Peter knew that had been Ned’s school of choice, since it was his dad’s alma mater. He had only smiled and wished him luck, even if inside he was begging for it not to be true, but one look at his bandaged shoulder silenced him.

So, Peter needed minutes on his phone, since it was the only way to keep in contact with Ned now. He didn’t want to be able to lose touch with his only friend. He had lost everyone else he loved, and he felt like he was barely hanging onto Ned now.

That had been the plan at least, but instead, he was staring at Tony freaking Stark, Pepper Potts, and a little girl that all of America had known from the moment she’d been born, Morgan Stark. She was two years old and sitting next her mother quietly as she looked across the table at Peter, wide brown eyes almost sparkling with excitement.

“Uh, I d-dont... understand,” Peter said, looking at his case worker, Margaret. The woman’s blonde hair was as always pulled up into a sloppy bun with a few strands falling into her face. She had on one of her usual cheap dress clothes, and that had a few wrinkles at the collar.

“Mr. and Mrs. Stark want to adopt you, Peter,” Margaret repeated. “They want you to be their son.”

There was that words again, ‘son’. Peter had already been someone’s son, had been someone’s nephew, but now they were all gone. He couldn’t be some else’s son, or nephew, or anything.

The adults faces changed into something that had to be sorrow. He hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud.

“Oh Peter,” Pepper Potts sighed, dabbing at her eyes. She almost didn’t seem like she ran a Fortune 500 company, but perhaps having a daughter had softened her. It made Peter miss his own mother, his Aunt May’s absence like an ache that clawed at his throat with the need to scream, because life wasn’t fair. Life was a cruel bitch that took and took from you, and nothing and no one could make it better.

“A bruther?” a sweet voice asked.

Peter looked at the little girl, her hair braided like a crown on her head and a flower band on. She was wearing a white dress with llamas (or alpacas?) all over it, as well as cacti. Over that she had a pink vest with tassels all over it (it might have been called a cowboy vest), and brown sandals on her tiny feet. She had one a pink and white necklace with a pink flower in the middle, and a pair of sunglasses hooked to the front of her dress almost like the kinds her father always wore.

He knew this because she’d come around the table and he turned in his seat to be able to see her. She grabbed his hand, much larger than her tiny one. “You my bruther?”

Pepper and Tony had stood as soon as Morgan had slipped clumsily out of her chair. Now they watched the two kids, one twelve and the other two, but both still children. “I’m... nobody’s brother,” Peter whispered.

“Yea, you my bruther, k?” Morgan nodded like it was final.

Peter opened his mouth as he looked into her innocently smiling face, and he found he could say nothing to remove that smile from her face. “Okay,” he gasped, and he hadn’t realized he’d started to cry until her other tiny hand wiped at his face.

“Why you cry? Got an ouchie?”

He nodded as he gripped her small hand as hard as he could without hurting her, afraid to let go. “Yes... I got an ochie,” he sobbed.

Morgan wrapped her little arms around the bigger kid, in an effort to comfort him. “It’s otay. Magona kiss it better, k?” She pressed a kiss on his cheek, making the other cry even harder as he held onto her now. He was sure he was cursed, that everyone he loved died, but he couldn’t help wanting Morgan.

Peter wanted to be her big brother, to have someone he could love again, and that loved him too. He wanted to be selfish, just this once.

Tony and Pepper signed the adoption papers that same day, and Peter became Peter Parker-Stark; became Morgan’s big brother.-

#Peter Parker #Ned Leeds #Morgan Stark #Tony Stark #Pepper Potts #Peter Parker Needs A Hug #Ned Leeds Whump #White Roses For My Sister #fanfiction #WRFMS #Spider-Man #Marvel Cinematic Universe #name-me-regret

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flatsuke · 7 years

Note

Idk if you still take requests but can you do a kbtbb group piece where Mc gets kidnapped and the guys work together to find her? Love your work btw

Title: 99 Reasons Why I’ll Never Be Good Enough For You

Summary: He should’ve answered the phone when he had the chance.

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Everyone/MC, mostly Eisuke-centric

a/n: Here it is, anon! I’m sorry this took so long. I normally don’t take any requests, but I liked yours! Also, this is mostly Eisuke-centric, so I hope that’s okay with you lol

The auctions were once again in full swing. All the itemsBaba put up were the star of the show, and none of the patrons could get enoughof the prized antiques on stage. Every time the zeroes piled up, Eisuke’s smirkgrew wider.

Good, Eisuke thought. More profit for us.

His phone buzzed all of a sudden,but he paid it no mind. The auctions were more important than some offhandedphone call. He didn’t even bother taking his phone out of his pocket when hepressed the sleep button to make it stop ringing.

Whoever was calling him must havebeen pretty insistent because the phone wouldn’t stop ringing even after Eisukeignored it the first time.

Annoyingbastard. Didn’t this person get the message already?

Irritated, he turned his phone off.At least he wouldn’t be disturbed anymore.

“Eisuke, where’s Koro? I’mthirsty,” whined Ota, sprawled across the couch. After the auctions ended on asuccessful note, they all headed to the penthouse to celebrate.

“I just paged her. She should behere any minute now.”

“I haven’t seen her today. I didn’teven see her at the I.V.C!” Baba exclaimed.

“Now that you mention it, SexyBones hasn’t been here all day…” Luke added before mumbling something about “awaste of a perfect bone structure.”

“Maybe we’ll get answers from herwhen she gets here,” Eisuke concluded. Ihaven’t seen her either, strangely enough.

Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn’tarrived to the penthouse. Eisuke was starting to get impatient. Where the hellwas she? Oh, she was going to get an earful from him later.

“Strange. Normally, she would’vearrived ten minutes earlier,” Shuichi commented curiously.

“Cut her some slack. She’s probablyin the bathroom or something. Diarrhea can happen to anyone, ya know,” said ahalf-asleep Mamoru, chuckling slightly.

Eisuke didn’t pay attention to thevulgar comment. It was probably faster to just call her directly. With a clickof his tongue, he grabbed his phone to dial her number. Before he could inputhis passcode, he was met with an unnerving sight.

Twelve missed calls. All from her.

Whatthe hell…? Weird. She almost never called him directly, so seeing a barrageof missed calls was a bit jarring, to say the least. Was this a prank?

“The number you have dialed iscurrently unavailable,” recited the operator monotonously.

An unsettling feeling pooledin his stomach. Something wasn’t right.

“Boss? What’s up? Why do you looklike you broke a nail or something?” Baba asked mischievously.

Eisuke didn’t have the energy toretort to the joke. “You didn’t see her at all today, right?”

“No…but what are you getting at?”

“Aihara, did you see her at work?”Eisuke turned to the younger man. There was a growing urgency in his voice thatthe others could hear.

“No, I didn’t. I thought she was onsick leave,” Hikaru shrugged back.

Shedidn’t call in sick today. What’s going on?

“…If you want, I can go check onher dorm,” Baba suggested. The thief could sense the seriousness in Eisuke’sexpression, and to be honest, he was feeling a bit worried, too.

Baba left the room immediately. Theothers remained in the penthouse, but the mood changed from celebratory totense.

No one wanted to admit that theirinitial worry grew worse with each passing second. Eisuke tried to call her,but all he kept receiving in return was the operator’s dull voice. He couldonly hope that his fears were unfounded when Baba came back.

“Guys!” Baba yelled, slamming thepenthouse door open. “Something’s wrong!” His face was uncharacteristicallypanicked, and he was panting from all the running he did.

“Spit it out already,” Soryu quipped,not comfortable with the suspense.

“It’s ____…” Baba gulped heavily.“Her room’s been ransacked and I can’t find her anywhere.”

They all froze at Baba’sexplanation. Whatever came next—

“I think she’s been kidnapped,” heconfessed grimly, looking straight into Eisuke’s eyes.

That was the switch that seteveryone off.

“Shit! Check the GPS on her phone! Soryu, get the Dragons ready!”

Soryu wasted no time standing upand calling the Ice Dragons. Meanwhile, Hikaru grabbed his laptop and typed aplethora of commands in lightning speed. The rest of them bolted up and triedto contact her, but to no avail.

“I can’t pick up anything from herphone,” Hikaru admitted, fists clenched. “It must have been destroyed.”

“You’re kidding…” Ota uttered. “Isthere anything else we can do to figure out where she is?”

“Who the hell could even get pastsecurity?” Mamoru inquired, unusually alert.

“Tch. That doesn’t matter now. Justthink of something already!” Eisuke roared.

Staycalm, stay calm. I’m going to lose my fucking mind—

Eisuke,in a frantic attempt to find some sort of answer, scrolled furiously throughhis phone. Through the pile of unread messages, he spotted one from her, sentfour hours ago. There were no words in the message, and all that was sent was ablurry picture of a warehouse by the docks.

“Aihara!Find out where this place is! And do it quickly!” Eisuke commanded, throwinghis phone at the younger man. If he wasn’t so desperate, he would’ve been a bitmore polite.

Hikaruskillfully caught the phone. “She sent you this?” he asked Eisuke suspiciously.

“Justshut up and look for the place already. We don’t have time for this.”

A fewminutes later, Hikaru managed to trace the address of the photo. Withoutwasting another breath, they all sprang to their feet and hoped they weren’ttoo late.

Please.

Gettingto the location was a feat in itself.

“Do you always drive like a maniac,Ichinomiya!?” Shuichi held onto the armrest of the passenger seat for dearlife. “You almost hit that car!”

“Look, I don’t give a shit aboutproper driving right now. I just want to get to that warehouse, pronto. If youdon’t like it, you can get the hell out of here.”

Shuichi only clicked his tongue inreturn. He didn’t want to admit it, but Eisuke was right. They all wanted toget to her as soon as possible.

“That’s great and all, just makesure we don’t die before we get there!” Ota yelped after Eisuke made a sharpcurve.

After a few near-death turns andmiraculous luck, they arrived at the docks. Soryu and the Ice Dragons cameimmediately after them, all poised and ready to take orders.

“Get rid of anyone in the way,”Soryu ordered. He cocked his gun threateningly. “Move!”

The warehouse itself was abandoned,and thankfully for them, their manpower made it easy for them to burst in thebuilding without having to deal with any obstacles.

The first thing they heard whenthey made their way inside was a familiar scream of pure agony. There, huddledon the floor, was her bloody, beaten body clutching herself in pain. One of themen surrounding her was about to swing down a baseball bat, which was alreadycovered in blood from earlier use.

She feebly managed to look at theauction managers’ direction. Very, very weakly, she mouthed something almostimperceptible, yet they all managed to see it.

Help.

The triggers, both in their mindsand in their guns, were pulled.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!!”

The place became a bloodbath fortheir wrath. Soryu’s, Hikaru’s, and Mamoru’s guns all fired one after the otherat the kidnappers. The three of them gave no chance to fight back. All thatcould be heard was the rain of bullets and gunpowder.

Baba, thanks to the others’diversion, managed to bring her away from the ensuing gunfight. He laid herdown gently for Luke to do first aid.

“It hurts…it hurts…” she whimperedpitifully. From up close, her injuries looked worse than they seemed. Thebruises on her limbs were beginning to turn blue, and the black eye on herface was swelling. Eisuke watched the whole scene, and his insides lurched atthe sight.

Thosesons of bitches are going to pay. I’ll make sure of it.

“It’s okay, Sexy Bones. Everythingwill be okay,” Luke soothed her. “Does your chest hurt?”

“It hurts…to b—breathe…” She triedto move, but she only flinched in pain when her torso shifted.

Luke’s eyes flashed with dread. Heturned immediately to Eisuke, who shook himself out of his stupor.

“Eisuke, call an ambulance. Now. I think she might have broken herribs,” he said with an uncharacteristic gravity.

Sure enough, Eisuke didn’t thinktwice before dialing the number. He gave her one last look, and he wanted tobeat himself up for letting this happen to her. If only they came sooner. Ifonly he answered his phone—

“E—eisuke…” she called out to himfeebly.

“Don’t talk now. Save your energy.”

“I—I didn’t tell them…anythingabout the—the auctions…” she sputtered before going unconscious.

Don’ttell me they did this to you for that reason—

Something in him snapped. He madehis way over to Soryu, who was just about done with the kidnappers.

“Give me your gun,” Eisuke askedcoldly.

“What are you—“

He didn’t bother listening toSoryu’s complaints when he grabbed the gun from its holster. Everyone’s shoutswere mute noise to him as he approached the kidnappers’ fallen bodies.

They were already riddled withbullet holes from the earlier fight, but Eisuke felt the need to go a stepfurther.

Cocking the gun once more, he aimedat them.

“This one’s for her.”

The next day came, but none of themfelt any better.

Seeing her lying down on a hospitalbed—unconscious, injured, and jacked with painkillers—did nothing to lift theirspirits. She may have been safe now, but the fact that she was hurt because of themnever left their minds. All they could do was watch her sleep and hope the painwould go away.

After a few minutes of theircontemplative silence, her eyes fluttered open.

“G—guys…?” She tried sitting up,but Ota quickly moved to her.

“Ah, you can’t get up yet, Koro,”he chided, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “The doctor says you have acouple of broken ribs, so you can’t exert yourself.”

“Oh. I see…” she bit her lipnervously. “Well, in any case, thank you all for everything. I’m sorry forcausing you all trouble. I—I promise this won’t happen again.”

All of them winced at her apology.Why was she saying sorry when she was the one who suffered? Eisuke, inparticular, felt his skin crawl at every word she said.

“Princess…” Baba faltered. “Whatare you saying?”

“Don’t say that, ___…just stopalready…” Hikaru gritted his teeth in frustration.

She didn’tlike seeing them so upset, so she changed the subject.

“…I must look like crap, huh?” shelaughed self-deprecatingly. “I don’t think I can go to work looking like this.I guess I can’t make Eisuke’s coffee for a whi—“

“___,those calls,” Shuichi implored, his eyes wavering. “Were you…trying to call usfor help?”

Shenervously looked to the side, trying to avoid his gaze.

“Ah…Icouldn’t think of anyone else to call. A—anyway! It’s fine! It’s not like itwould’ve made any difference if you guys answered. You guys should stopworrying about it—“

“No, it’snot fine, goddammit!” Eisuke, who wassilent the whole time, suddenly yelled.

While I was busy counting zeroes at theauction, you were all alone, beaten senselessly by some assholes and for what?For me? For the one person who didn’t even bother to come to you when youneeded me the most?

“Why are you always likethis?! Why can’t you just get mad and blame us?! Why can’t you just hate me already?!” Eisuke’s voice was cracking,and he didn’t care about the tears that were coming out. So be it if they allsaw him at his weakest point. None of that compared to what she had to go through.

Soryu walkedup to him and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You should stop,Eisuke. Don’t stress her out.”

Theothers were all staring at him in awed sorrow. There was no room for smartasscomments when their leader was on the verge of a breakdown. Eventually, they,too, couldn’t hold back their sobs.

“If—ifwe made it earlier we could’ve—“ he choked.

“I’m sorry…” she said sadly.

“Shut up…don’t apologize. Just—justrest and get better,” he sputtered before storming out of the room and awayfrom everyone’s tear-filled gazes.

At the hospital roof, he had timeto reflect on his own.

He hated it that she always had toapologize because he knew, better than anyone, whose fault it was that she wentthrough something horrible.

He was to blame.

#spade writes #fic #fanfic #voltage fanfic #voltage inc #kbtbb #kissed by the baddest bidder #eisuke ichinomiya #soryu oh #mitsunari baba #ota kisaki #mamoru kishi #shuichi hishikura #luke foster #hikaru aihara #lmao im sorry if this wasn't what you had in mind #i might have gone too angsty #fanfiction

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