It's way too hot and I am way too tired to do any more efforts, so excuse the critical lack of quality here.
If you didn't know, Cole is my favourite Power Ranger :D
And while I was binge watching Ninjago I had the pleasant surprise to see him physically and mentally traumatized in season 5 😈
And since I'm a huge sucker for angst, my brain immediately thought of developing that idea in order to hurt my beautiful baby boy some more. That and also the fact that my brain immediately looks for logic in the laws of cartoon physics (I really shouldn't do that...)
So I bring you the "Cole is a Ghost Kind-of-Saga". I still have a few more ideas to exploit, notably adressing the ways the other ninjas will help him cope with his new condition :3
And maaaaybeeeee a small comic too 😇
Anyways, I will let my brain rest a bit for now and sleep.
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I'm having a lot of feelings about 1x11 as is to be expected. Bellamy saying what he wants to say and then saying but I'm not the guy who says stuff like that to keep up his selfish asshole image despite clearly Caring So Much the entire episode. Immediately asking raven if it helped, knowing it didn't but hoping it did anyway. How clarke says only people who can be spared should go hunt, but when clarke, finn, and myles don't come back, it's raven, Octavia, Bellamy, and monty who go search for them, all arguably essential personnel.
And then when they find myles, Bellamy does exactly what he would have done if he had been there when they were attacked. He says they need to get myles, who is extremely injured, back to camp. He immediately says he's sorry to raven when he finds out that clarke and Finn were taken, because he assumes that means they're dead or worse, but he can focus on and save this one person, myles, who is in direct danger and in need of help.
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Hmmmm. 97 for the ficlet game :)
There's a drumming noise inside my head
That starts when you're around
I swear that you could hear it
It makes such an almighty sound
👀 you got one that is definitely here due to being on the Shrios playlist, so congrats, you're getting a
uh
I think this went a little beyond snippet or ficlet but oh well you get pure ship indulgence, enjoy?
look I had to at least attempt to try and match this fuckin mood xD
It’s the implant.
Absolutely has to be the implant, and therefore it’s a problem that can be easily solved by getting through the next however many minutes and then going to Miranda and asking what, exactly, the fuck was wrong with the Serrice implants she’d had since childhood. A good 'no, Lawson, I don’t care about risky brain surgery, I want this to stop, the Serrice amps never gave me headaches at all.’
Except, the L5 implant itself hadn’t shown any signs of trouble, and her vitals were all solid.
Except there's never actual pain involved in these headaches. Just a rush, a noise pounding in her ears that made it difficult to focus.
‘Except’, she's certain someone (multiple someones) would point out, ‘you had no trouble with it until about three weeks ago.’
(Which would still be wrong, anyway.)
A week and a half since it had gotten this noticeable. Maybe two. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since that chat with Thane, since he spoke of what it was to be Whole and how something clicked… not quite into place, but closer than it had been for a while. Since she’d asked (far too elegant a word, actually) for his help, because Jack and Jacob and Miranda put together hadn’t been able to get her to throw so much as a spark in over a month, so hey, any help would be appreciated.
She expected a no. Which was reasonable.
She recieved this instead, time in life support or the observation deck spent discussing body and soul and muscles that didn’t know the memory that segued to vids of old fights she still had; an idea that should've been obvious from the start: studying her own form. Recreate, rather than assume she had to start from scratch. Progress to mimicking those movements and guidance that was undeniably unsettling, the way he could pick out such a minute difference in movements she never would have caught. Unspeakably helpful, every exercise since felt like falling closer in step with those ghosts she's spent years chasing.
And now: a question only half heard over the pounding in her ears, that she could only answer with a nod because everything felt like it had that time she’d nearly drowned as a kid, all muted sound and the sense that opening her mouth would just steal whatever breath she had left. A hand, that had no right being so gentle, on her wrist, halting it in a position that was right, that made her skin prickle with combat memory, with static or maybe it was that those were claws more than nails at her pulse-
Then nothing but ringing in her ears and an actual splitting headache, since she'd Thrown herself head over heels and right into the wall.
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