#brain injury tw

[frownyalfred]

Bruce Wayne identity reveal situation but it's just because he was at a private party at some upscale strip club and they were doing tsunami shots (the ones were you throw water in their face after they take a shot and then slap them) but when it was time to slap Bruce 1) he forgot to play it cool and 2) the stripper accidentally hit him hard and all they ended up with was a cool and collected Bruce Wayne with a fully broken nose and a whole back room of strippers looking at him really funny after that because why didn't he even flinch? that must have hurt so badly.

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: arjun rampal

full name: ravi mohan

nickname(s) / goes by: ravi, rav

pronouns & gender: he / him, cis man

sexuality: bisexual

birth date: july 29, 1977

birth place: bellevue, washington

arrival to merrock: since 2004

housing: the coast

occupation: chief operating officer of mohan prime retail

work place: n/a

family: vikas mohan (father), riya mohan (father), two sisters

relationship status: single

PERSONALITY

Ravi is blunt to a fault, often bordering on insensitive, but he just does not have the bandwidth for bullshit nor has any interest to be well-liked. He can be cold and calculating and has always lived his life by the numbers, though is recently trying to learn how to play a few things by ear and listen to gut feelings rather than logic.

WRITTEN BY: Frankie (any pronouns), gmt+8.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: assault, brain/head injury

Ravi grew up used to luxury, having nannies and maids and cooks to cater to the family’s every whim. Vikas, Ravi’s father, was a business tycoon, and so was Vikas’ father before him, and so on. The Mohans were well-known in the retail, hospitality, and real estate industry, having founded the Mohan Prime Investment Group which had a variety of subsidiaries that operated mall chains, department stores, restaurants, hotels and inns. They even branched out to property development in later years, though they’re much less known for these ventures.

Ravi was involved with the family business since his teenage years, so it came as no surprise to anyone that once he graduated business school, he started working directly under his father’s wing, moving through the ranks until he was appointed COO of the Mohan Prime Retail in his late twenties.

Vikas was known to be a ruthless businessman, unafraid of running over anyone and anything that stood in his way. While Ravi didn’t always agree with his father’s ways, he trusted that he knew what he was doing, and that his decisions were always in the company’s best interests. So when Vikas sent his son to Maine in order to oversee operations of their shopping centers in smaller towns where competition was scarce, Ravi played the role of the obedient son and carried out his father’s orders with no questions asked.

It’s no secret that the Mohans have garnered a number of enemies who wish to see their empire fall over the years and with Ravi essentially acting as an extension of his father, it was easy to see him as a big red target for those the family had scorned. Ravi was at a nightclub in Merrock when he was drunkenly assaulted by a former employee who had been laid off a week prior. This incident had landed Ravi in the hospital, sustaining a brain injury that he would gradually recover from, but would affect his cognitive and fine motor skills in the long run. He’d grown to be quite explosive with his temper, often getting violent outbursts that, while often triggered by circumstances, can sometimes be random. He would also become quite forgetful, missing meetings, failing to return phone calls and reply to emails. He’d also have trouble with his penmanship and often prefers typing over writing with a pen. Having a personal assistant makes a lot of these things much easier for him to deal with, but he often can’t help but feel held back and weighed down due to his condition.

Lately, he’s been reassessing his role in his father’s company and the hand he plays in so much destruction that it leaves in its wake. Having lived in Merrock since 2021, he’s grown quite charmed by small town life and is slowly being humbled by its hardworking residents that he can’t help but feel somewhat responsible for several jobs lost, businesses shutting down, and even land bought out from families in the name of capitalism and urbanization. He’s been thinking about diverting from his father’s legacy and making a name for himself but has yet to act on these thoughts.

[ghosts-and-glory]

Is Shamura training martial arts after being taken into Lamb's cult? If they enjoyed complexity and bloodshed of war than it'd be probably dissapointing for them if they had to... drop it all

Full under the cut because this turned out really long

Upon joining the cult Shamura was a shell of their former self. They join the cult dissenting, the long term effects of the crown still clawing at the edges of their mind, but after a few days they’re mortal, just themself. Without the crown to hold them together they suffer like their injury was yesterday.

The Lamb has the doctor, Puar, perform their usual tests on them. Shamura is hardly there. They don’t know their own name, can hardly speak, can’t stand or track movement.

There was no wisdom in their slurred words. No power in the way their hands shook.

The outlook is bad.

The Lamb doesn’t really want to help them, after everything, why should they. Shamura who had The Lamb’s entire race and family killed, who killed them aswell and countless of their followers. It would cost them so much, to try and help someone who spent so long just trying to destroy them and everything they had. The time, energy, resources it would cost and they didn’t even know if they could get better.

Deciding it wasn’t worth it was one thing, but getting the other ex bishops to understand was a whole other, even the doctor disagreed with them.

Dr Puar took on being their primary caregiver. They’d been a doctor for the past hundred years and seen concussions and dementia but nothing nearly as severe as this. They wanted to help Shamura but didn’t know how.

It wasn’t until Narinder joined the cult that The Lamb saw any reason to help Shamura. But there was something wrong with him and Shamura knew something, they just had to get to it.

Kallamar was the ex bishop Puar wanted the help from the most. He was scared of the lamb and red crown but he loved Shamura more.

The Lamb took Puar and Kallamar to the ruins of the temples in Anchordeep and Silk Cradle. They spent days digging through the decimated remains of the libraries for something, anything on this type of injury.

It seemed that they where looking down possible years of intense recovery. Needed herbs and medicines that may no longer exist, techniques Puar had never heard of. But they would try.

Puar took careful and detailed notes. Timed Shamura’s responses, wrote down everything they said, tracked eating, drinking, sleeping and every symptom they displayed. Improvements where slow and sometimes nonexistent at first. They took full minutes to respond and only in single words, barley moved, couldn’t feed themselves and suffered constant migraines.

The one thing that seemed to help them the most was their siblings. They didn’t remember them most days but every time one of they came to check in it raised their spirits. One of their faces was the only thing they could focus on sometimes.

Kallamar insisted he wasn’t a doctor but still worked around the infirmary, helping Shamura was the only thing he’d do without complaining. Heket spent hours sitting in silence with them, brought them food and flowers and changed their bandages. Leshy was the only thing that could get them to smile and they where the only person he would ever lower his voice for, he told them stories even though they hardly listened.

Improvements brought new challenges. They got better at speaking full sentences and following conversations but it revealed how fractured their memory was. Forgetting names, places and important events, how often they forgot where they where, they asked the same questions over and over again.

They complained of seeing and hearing things, phantom pains with seemingly no rhyme or reason. The sun hurt their eyes, rain gave them headaches, always sleeping but always tired. They would suddenly backslide constantly. One day could walk with minimal help and the next, couldn’t even hold a pen in their hand. Have a full conversation one day and hardly spit out their name tomorrow.

Until the day Puar looked Shamura in the eye and for once they saw him. Didn’t look past them with their blank stare but looked at them. They would ask to sit outside at night in the fresh air. They seemed to know now who they are, what they where, what they lost. A tinge of grief in their words.

Improvements brought frustration. On days they remembered who they where they were overcome with a mix of anger, guilt and despair. They where a god. They had bore down on armies, killed men with a twitch of a finger, brought other gods to their knees, and now they could hardly bring a cup to their mouth.

Emotionally, their siblings said they’d never seen them like this before. Before Shamura could be frustrated but their temper was cold and quiet. Now they wore a short fuse and suffered constant mood swings. It angered them that they couldn’t read, that their hands were numb, that they couldn’t walk without a cane, couldn’t go out in the sun, couldn’t string a full sentence together, couldn’t recognize their siblings faces, couldn’t feed themselves, couldn’t sleep without drugs, everything they lacked and lost wore them down.

Regardless, they where unusually steadfast. They would always pick back up. If they got frustrated they would try again in a few days. They tried anything Puar asked of them, anything for the smallest iota of improvement.

The outlook was better.

—————

This got out of control and took me like three days between the art and write up. I got really excited when I saw this ask cause the answer is so devastating. If I was taking Narinder’s trauma seriously I’m not gonna just ignore Shamura’s traumatic brain injury.

As a side note, I’m very unsure how to write the medical stuff, my guess is that cotl is based around 1300’s-1700’s but that’s a wide net to cast. My excuse for the stronger understanding of medicine and trauma is magic.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 

 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 

Would Harrington pitch a fit? 

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 

Several somethings, in fact. 

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 

An unfair advantage, really. 

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 

"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 

"Anybody else?" He asked. 

"Nobody human." Steve replied. 

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…" 

"You take any today son?" 

Steve his head. 

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 

Course he hadn't. 

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 

[st-hedge]

Wolf doodles (and one lil Geni)

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

is there any hope for kook ford being rehabilitated? (<- angst enjoyer but also sensitive bean who cries so so much at tragedy and sad endings and even bittersweet endings but also respects the authors vision and intent)

Good news: Ford does get better! Although, I suppose that depends on what you would consider better, I suppose. Mentally speaking, he won’t ever really be able to return to the same level of cognitive skills as he once had before his injury, at least, not instantly. He did suffer through a traumatic brain injury for 30 years with little to no treatment or anything to help him. It’ll take a lot of time and effort on reworking his brain and rebuilding some bases before he can start tanking super complicated science tomes again, and even then it might end up being less than what he used to be capable of. But nonetheless, better is still better, and his thoughts will begin to restitch itself back together gradually into something more coherent, and his memories will return clearer. He’ll be happy to be able to communicate better, and make himself understood - to make his behaviour and speech understood - without others writing him off as a crazy old kook.

Physically, obviously, he’ll be off the streets so that’s definitely an improvement. His head wound would be a little hard to deal with, since it has been 30 years, and by now it’s already scarred and healed. Ultimately, it’s left alone, along with the metal in his skull, since it’s deemed to probably do more damage than good to remove it now of all times, already far past the prime time to remove it.

So yeah, he does get better! Fiddleford will definitely help when he eventually returns from his multiverse escapade, but so will the others such as Stan and the twins. There’s no way of making Ford just magically better, but he works on it with the support of the others :)

[the-voidlingg]

Ah yes, my favorite album

Traumatic Brain Injury

[amethyst-halo]

yet another au on my mind lol what if everyone stays

[sara-the-wizard]

Did someone ask for Donnie angst? (rottmnt)

Oh, and maybe some brains & brawn duo art as well! 😁💔

[frownyalfred]

imagine how smart Bruce would be if he didn't get hit in the head all the time. "Lex Luthor is the smartest man on Earth--" "Tony Stark is--" right but if Bruce is holding his own up there AND he's been playing fast and loose with TBIs for a few years, that ranking is flawed.

[starscelly]

AFTER HE HAS SUFFERED, HE WILL SEE THE LIGHT OF LIFE AND BE SATISFIED

text: isaiah 53:7-13 photos: 1: icon sportswire, getty images // icon sportswire, getty images // dave sandford, getty images // chicago tribune, getty images 2: ronald martinez, getty images // icon sportswire, getty images // glenn james, getty images // ronald martinez, getty images // len redkoles, getty images 3: zak krill, getty images 4: ethan miller, getty images 5: steph chambers, getty images // screenshots from dal@sea 05.07.23 6: jeff bottari, getty images // steve warne, yahoo sports // screenshots from dal@vgk 01.28.25 // screenshots from nyr@dal 12.20.24 7: screenshot from dal@vgk 01.28.25 // sportsday staff, dallas morning news // puckpedia, stone transactions 8: michael martin, getty images // bill wippert, getty images 9: jeff bottari, getty images 10: ethan miller, getty images // ethan miller, getty images // jeff bottari, getty images // zak krill, getty images

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 13 (Yan Sabo x Reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

All the other chapters

The angst has arrived. Thank you to @tryingandfailingtowrite and @gouraminnow for their help <3 <3 <3

Also I'm sorry I didn't respond to anyone's comments last time I promise I read them and I will respond this time.

Ace POV

The wind whipped the hair out of Ace’s face as he leaned against the railing of the ship when he felt a familiar sensation behind him. Once upon a time, he could feel sensation across his entire back but now there was a dead zone in the middle where his nerve endings never reconnected. After the second Mera Mera, he didn’t feel hot or cold due to the fire within him, but even now he couldn’t feel anything where Akainu had injured him. Not a scratch or a cut, not a kiss or a hug, or the feeling of another person’s skin against his own.

Like he wasn’t feeling now as Marco stood behind him. Ace had spent months trying to remember the exact feeling of Marco’s cool skin against his own, how his lover’s chest always felt like a balm to his soul. Ace’s mind raced with everything he’d done to Sunny, all the ways in which he’d wrecked her life, and didn’t want to confront his thoughts about Marco. So when he felt Marco’s long graceful arms around him and grip the railing on either side of his body, Ace ducked under one of his former lover’s arms and did his best to create space as he moved over to the side. Ace crossed his arms and turned to face him as he leaned his back against the railing, away from Marco’s achingly familiar touch. He couldn’t look his former brother in the eye, so he stared hard at his scuffed boots.

“Long time no see yoi,” Marco’s tone was pleasant while he continued to face the sea. The warm salty air ruffled his familiar haircut, though Ace could see a few more gray hairs littered in his blonde locks. They’d had an awkward exchange already when Marco had first landed on the ship. But Marco had been all business then, his voice sharp as he demanded details about Sunny and her condition. There was no time for long conversations between them among the chaos of the battle’s aftermath. Now there was a large stretch of time until Marco left again and Ace was alone once more.

“Yeah,” Ace replied with his eyes still on his boots, unsure where to start. There was so much unsaid between them that Ace didn’t know where to begin. He decided to go with what was easiest, “how’s Sunny?”

“She’s better, I healed what I could. I wish you’d called me immediately, maybe we could have changed the outcome yoi,” Marco replied in his usual calm tone. Ace’s eyebrows scrunched downwards as he scowled.

“What do you mean, ‘healed what you could? Is she better or not?” Ace’s eyes finally met Marco’s with a harsh squint to them as he asked Marco. The doctor sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Her body is healed - her hands, her jaw, her ribs - all fine. She has some lingering effects from her traumatic brain injury, but those should heal in time. It’s just… I couldn’t heal her eye. Maybe Law can or - she might even be able to herself. But she lost vision in her left eye, I can’t bring it back,” Marco said softly. Ace processed Marco’s words for a few minutes, while his grip on his arms grew tighter and tighter. He closed his eyes and forced the tears back. Ace hated cry babies after all, including himself.

“Ace, no one blames you for anything -”

“You just said that I could’ve changed the outcome if I called sooner. So Sunny must blame me. They all do, I know they do.” Ace said, unsure exactly who he was thinking about at that moment.

“And how would you know that yoi? You haven't talked to her at all. You didn’t tell any of us that you were alive - we had to see it on national TV. You haven’t talked to anyone since -”

“Since I killed our Captain -”

“No, Ace. That’s not - we missed you, it’s not your fault, -” Marco started to say softly before Ace’s voice overpowered his.

“IT IS! IT IS MY FAULT!” Ace exploded and flung his arms out to the side as he stood upright. His finger poked into Marco’s chest as he continued to direct his tirade at his former crewmate. “Just admit it, Marco! Admit it’s my fault she’s blind, it was my fault she was hurt, it’s my fault any of this happened! I was the one who pushed her to make the fruit, I was the one who couldn’t fight Akainu AGAIN! I’m the reason Pops -” Ace knew he was caught in a full rant now but it felt good to finally let it all out. His hands shook as bottled up self loathing spewed from him like toxic sludge. 

“Ace-”

“Is dead, the reason the crew is gone, the ship is destroyed, the reason that fuckin’ Blackbeard -”

“Ace stop-” Marco let Ace’s words wash over him as he did his best to interrupt at the same time. Ace barreled along, he had no desire to hear the sympathy he didn’t deserve.

“Is a fuckin’ Emperor now, the reason Luffy almost died, and -”

Marco finally stopped Ace’s speech - his hands soft on Ace’s jaw as he grabbed and pulled him close to kiss him on the lips. Ace closed his eyes and allowed himself to be brought deeper into the kiss, Marco’s lips gentle on his own. Marco’s other hand wound around Ace to grip the back of his neck as Marco gently massaged the tight muscles. Ace nearly moaned from the sudden contact - he’d dreamed about Marco, Yamato, and Deuce for years but hadn’t had the courage to contact any of them.  After he broke away, Marco rested his chin on Ace’s head as he pulled Ace into a hug.

“Stop for a moment yoi. Take a breath,” Marco commanded softly while he ran his long fingers over Ace’s scar. Ace saw teal flames lighting up behind him through the corner of his eye.

“Don’t heal it,” Ace mumbled into Marco’s broad chest as his arms wrapped around his lover’s body.

“Hm? Why not? The scar tissue -” 

“Don’t deserve it,” Ace muttered and rested his forehead on Marco’s clavicle. In the two years apart Marco had somehow become even more attractive than Ace remembered, his chest and back broader and more well muscled. Marco clicked his tongue but stopped his healing flames as Ace had requested.

“Still self loathing then?” Marco asked while he continued to run his hands up and down Ace’s back. Ace desperately wished he could feel most of it but stayed silent while he relished the feel of Marco’s hands on him. They stayed like that for a few minutes in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Marco pushed Ace away from his body and grabbed him by the shoulders before he gave him a light shake.

“No one blames you for anything that happened yoi. None of what happened with us - Pops, the crew, Blackbeard - none of it was your fault -”

“It was, you told me not to go after him and I didn’t listen -”

“And that was your choice. We could have stopped you, all of us could have kept you from going but we gave you the freedom to choose, just like Sunny had. That doesn’t make Blackbeard’s actions your fault -”

“And I fucking failed again with Sunny! You saw what happened out there, I completely froze up. Made completely of fire and I fucking froze. She nearly died,” Ace said with a sniffle while a tear tracked down his freckled cheek. Marco tutted again and wiped the tear off Ace’s cheek.

“You need to go talk to her yoi. She’s been waiting to see you, you can’t hide anymore. I’ll be here after you talk to deal with things between us. But you need to go to Sunny -”

“I know, I know. It’s just - what do I even say? ‘Sorry for fucking up so bad you almost died’? ‘Sorry I didn’t tell you that letting me into your life would end up in misery just like everyone else?’ Like, I don’t -” Ace ran his fingers through his long shaggy bangs as he bit his lip, his thoughts locked on the last time he saw you laid out on your infirmary bed, bandaged and bruised.

“It doesn’t matter what you say. You at least owe her a face to face conversation now that she’s awake and can talk,” Marco chided lightly while he rubbed Ace’s arms. Ace looked up at Marco’s concerned face and inhaled a sharp breath. 

“You’re right, I’ll go later -” Ace messed with the strings of his hat when he responded in a dodgy tone. Marco’s easy going eyes narrowed in a way Ace hadn’t seen since the Moby, when Ace wasn’t taking Marco’s medical advice.

“You’ll go now, ” Marco voice was firm as he turned Ace around and walked with him toward the door to the ship’s decks arm in arm.

“Guess I’m going now,” Ace mumbled, grateful for the push from Marco even if he literally dragged his feet.

Your POV

“Sunny, I - I don’t - I never wanted - things weren’t supposed to be this way,” Sabo stuttered at your statement while he wiped his eyes from the tears that continued to fall. “Sunny, I - you  - you can be mad at me, you know. I don’t - You don’t have to pretend this is all ok. I never wanted you to look like me -”

“I’m not mad at you for my injuries, Sabo,” you said and wiped your eyes and nose on the sleeve of your pajamas. “It’s not your fault this happened, I made my choices,” you said in a soft voice. Sabo reached out and touched your now healed hand as his gaze formed a familiar intense stare. 

“I won’t fail you again, Sunny. I can’t - I won’t, ” Sabo’s eyes boring into yours as he swore a firm promise of protection. It was all too familiar to when he swore he’d take care of you, that you’d never have to look after yourself again. You didn’t answer but turned your head to the left so you could look out the window again. You knew your magnification worked; you’d tried it out when Marco healed your jaw. The problem was everything else wasn’t quite the same, simple tasks were now a struggle. It took you significantly longer to process what people told you, to read anything, or to organize your thoughts into coherent ideas. Even turning your head had taken longer than you anticipated.

“Ok,” you said softly. You didn’t want to console Sabo, you were still mad at him for putting you in seastone. On top of that, you were the one who had gotten injured, not him. Sabo and Ace had killed thousands of Marines without remorse or injury from what you’d gathered from the nurses. 

“Is Marco coming back? I have some questions about my brain injury,” you asked Sabo, who was still gripped your hand in his. 

“He’s not leaving for a few days so there’s plenty of time to -” Sabo’s response faded as the door creaked open to reveal Ace on the other side with Marco behind him. Ace’s face was already pinched in a frown as he fidgeted with the hat in his hand. Marco gave Ace a small push inside the room and motioned to Sabo with a finger.

“This is a conversation that needs to happen, Sabo. Come on, Sunny will be fine for a few minutes yoi,” Marco said with an authoritative tone. Sabo bristled slightly and his grip on you only lessened when he took in Ace’s red rimmed eyes.

“I’ll be on the deck if you need me,” Sabo said with a final press of his hand to yours. You nodded as Sabo and Marco left quickly, and shut the door softly behind them. You and Ace stared at each other for a few long moments, the silence only broken by the sound of the birds and waves crashing against the ship. You had a difficult time starting conversations since your TBI, you knew clinically that it could happen but it was a completely new experience when it happened to you. You did have something to say to Ace but what is was lingered beyond your grasp. Maybe he’d start the conversation kindly and you’d be able to suss it out. 

“Look, I’m sorry,” Ace said and kicked his boot against the floor.

“What are you sorry for?” you asked in a clipped tone. You remembered now, you were annoyed and angry at Ace for ignoring you for so long.

“Not seeing you fast enough, I guess,” Ace spun his cowboy hat on a finger as he answered. It was hard for you to concentrate while he spun it, so you shook your head and looked away.

“Oh, so it’s me who has the problem? Is that it?” you hissed while you crossed your arms, “I’ve been waiting for so long to see for myself that you’re ok but if you’re going to be petulant and pissy I’d rather not see you at all.”

 He flinched at the venom in your voice and stood straighter. You were already emotionally spent from the healing and had waited long enough to see Ace. You’d thought about this conversation many times and it involved hugs and fond wishes, not raised voices and arguments.

“Why would you want to see me? I ruined your entire life,” Ace hissed back, his gaze firmly locked with yours. The vitriol in his voice took you aback but you weren’t going to let him push you around. You knew he didn’t really mean it, that it was just his insecurity that shone through in moments of vulnerability. You’d heard it a few times on the island when you did nice things for him or gave him compliments about himself. Ace always reacted with a shove, quick to push away anyone who expressed love.

“You didn’t ruin my life, I made my own choices -” you said, your voice still scratchy after a week of silence. You were so tired of Sabo and Ace taking your decisions out of your hands and making it seem like you were forced into your current situation. Sure, it wasn’t sunshine and flowers but you’d lose an eye over a friend again and again.

“Well, I don’t think it was in your plans to blow up the fleet admiral and the rest of your life!” Ace exclaimed and threw his arms to the side before he crossed them. He planted his hat on his head to obscure his eyes from you.

“I WANTED TO!” you yelled back while you threw your arms in the air like he had. “I could have gotten back to the Marines! They already had…uh…” you snapped your finger to think of the word you wanted, a now frustratingly common occurrence, “caught me, recaptured me, did you know that? I coulda left BUT I DIDN’T WANT TO SEE YOU DIE!”  

Your voice grew more hoarse at the rare rise in your volume and rubbed your throat to assuage the burn. You wanted to pull your hair out, you were so frustrated - why couldn’t Sabo and Ace believe you that it was your choice?

“Oh really? Maybe you'll change your mind when you look at this,” Ace said before he handed you a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. When you unfolded it, you saw a picture of your younger self during basic duty captioned with the words WANTED: ALIVE ONLY. Your eye flicked to the bottom to check your bounty; you didn’t need to be able to read quickly to understand what you was in front of you. Your hands shook and the paper wafted to your lap as Ace gave you a sympathetic look.

One billion beri. 

You had a one billion beri bounty.

Your head was pounding as you whipped your legs out from under the blankets to put your feet on the floor for the first time in weeks. You couldn’t lay in bed right now, you needed to feel something tangible against your feet. You pushed yourself to stand and ignored Ace’s gentle grip when his hands landed on your arms.

“Hey wait Sunflower, I don’t think you should -” Ace’s voice reached you but didn’t register as your mind fell into a tailspin. You breathed in quick, shallow breaths but it felt like you couldn’t suck in enough air as you thought about the bounty now hanging over your head. Where would you go? Where could you go? How were you going to - with a bounty that high you’d be picked off by the first bounty hunter that saw you and sent back to the Marines and sent to Impel Down for the rest of your days with pirates and guards and underwater. And why did they only want you alive? Did they want you to - they probably wanted you to make more bombs or bad fruits or something and -

The room began to spin as you felt like you were losing consciousness in slow bursts. Someone’s voice had risen to a yell but you didn’t know who it was or what they were saying. Ace’s warm hands gripped your torso as he tried to push you back into the bed. You fought against the arms that held you in an attempt to keep you from moving out of the bed. Your eye caught the bright blue of your Marine neckerchief on the Wanted poster and you stared into the eyes of a younger version of yourself as you slumped forward.

The arms let go momentarily as you gripped the hair on either side of your head and gave it a harsh pull. Someone was now behind you on the bed; their arms and legs wrapped around you in a bear hug. Instead of ripping your hair out, your arms were now crushed against your own body as the person cradled you from behind. You tried to thrash against the hold they had you in but your muscles were weak and they were stronger than you. After you wore yourself out, you sat on the bed while your chest heaved with hard pants. They were warm, you realized, warmer than a normal person would be. The heat had you thinking about laying in the sand on a balmy summer’s day.

“Hey. Shhh. Hey, Sunny. Hey, breathe with me,” someone said and their stubbly cheek rested on your back. You tried to take a deep breath but it didn’t work, the air caught in your throat as you repeatedly thought of the billion beris on your head. Your mind whirled with the questions of where would you go and what would you do. Your hands shook with the certainty that someone was going to hurt you again; you almost died the first time, you wouldn’t survive another. This was it, your death sentence was spelled out with six large black letters WANTED and a billion beris behind it.

“C’mon Sunflower, c’mon, shhh. It’s ok, it’s me, it’s Ace. Shhhh, you’re alright, you’re alright. You’re safe, you have me and Sabo and Marco here, shhhh, nothing’s gonna happen to ya,” the voice continued to repeat words and phrases at you until you started to calm down. Your frantic mind clung to the even tone of the man as he held you tight.

“Shhh, it’s ok, nothing’s gonna happen, you’re safe, no one’s gonna get you,” Ace kept on as he hugged you from behind while he rocked both of you gently. You took in a deep breath and released it shakily like the breath got stuck in your throat.

“There you are, again, Sunflower, come on, breathe for me,” Ace encouraged you, his chest still pressed to your back as you felt his hot breath over your upper arm where the thin blue hospital gown wasn’t covering it. “Sunny, I missed you so so much, I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I just thought you hated me, that you would never want to see me again. You don’t need to worry, I’ll help you, me ‘n Sabo -”

You had started to regain control of your breathing when the door was kicked in with a bang. You screamed and ducked to cover your head as the door burst open, the door pushed open with one hand by Sabo and Marco hot on his heels. Sabo had his pipe in his hands ready for action while Marco wound the stethoscope back around his neck. 

“What’s going on? Did Sunny get hurt? I heard yelling,” Sabo demanded and scanned the room for any interlopers. 

“Goddammit, don’t do that,” Ace hissed while hepulled your hands off your head. “She just calmed down,” Ace put his chin on your shoulder but didn’t unwrap himself from around you. 

“The nurses noted a huge spike in her vitals and called for me. Did anything happen?” Marco asked calmly as he came to sit next to you on the bed with the stethoscope in his hands. 

“Well, the thing is, she kinda freaked out. I’ve seen her freaking before but this was different,” Ace’s grip on your arms loosened as he explained. 

“What triggered the panic?” Marco asked with the buds of the stethoscope now in his ears. He brought the bell towards your wrist and you allowed him to take your pulse, your arm slow to extend from where it had been cramped against your chest.

“I showed her the bounty poster,” he grumbled from behind you and your torso seemed like a human shield from his brothers.

“YOU IDIOT!” Sabo and Marco yelled together. The loud noise made you jolt, especially since Marco was so near. 

“I specifically told you not to show her!” Sabo threw his hands up emphatically while he barked at his brother.

“We’ve had so many conversations about time and place, yoi. Why would you show it to her now?” Marco chided and a vein began to throb in his forehead. Ace didn’t answer either one of them but you felt his body grow hotter against your back. 

“Sunny, I’m sorry you saw that. I was going to show you in a few days,” Sabo pleaded while he reached for you. You shrunk back but Ace’s body behind your own didn’t allow you much room to recede from Sabo’s touch. This was all too much for you right now but you couldn’t figure out how to let everyone know. Marco glanced at your face for a moment before he placed his stethoscope around his neck and stood up. 

“Everyone out,” he ordered with a sharp look at Ace, “including you yoi. She needs to rest right now and the excitement isn’t helping. Out, now.” 

You were sorry for the loss of his heated body as he climbed out of the bed but you wanted to unscramble your mind. Everything seemed to move too quickly and the confusion in your mind grew as you struggled to gather the scattered pieces of your thoughts. It didn’t help that the steady throb in your eye grew increasingly painful the more you tried to think. Sabo nodded and held the door open for Ace as they walked side by side to leave. You heard Sabo immediately begin to argue with Ace and wanted to interject but they were too far away to hear you.

“I’m having a hard time with uhm….thinking?” you said, your answer more a question than a statement. There were so many actions that you remembered being easier but between all the medications you had been on and the concussion, you felt like you were having to relearn to think.

“Common side effects of a TBI. You might also not be able to find words easily, organize your thoughts well, follow conversations, that kind of thing. It should go away in a few weeks to months -”

“ Months?!” you exclaimed and tears came unbidden to your eyes. Your head swam both from the previous conversations and with the news as you tried to prevent yourself from bursting into tears in front of The Phoenix. You hadn’t been a crier before but you had been so up and down that it was hard to maintain an even mood.

You weren’t seized by panic like before when you found out about your new bounty. This was different, Marco had tacitly told you that you amounted to nothing. All your life, you told yourself that it was OK that you weren’t the prettiest or the most popular or the best at anything because you were smart. And you used that one part of you as the one shining light that you clung to in your darkest moments. No matter what happened, you’d be able to reason and think your way out of any problem. You were smart , that’s what everyone thought of you. Not interesting, or fun, or someone worth being a friend, but smart. And now that was gone too. Marco’s large hand settled on your shoulder in comfort but you shrugged it off.

“Stop. It’s  - I’m ok. I just need some time alone,” you said before you closed your eyes and massaged your neck.

“Of course,” Marco flashed you a pitying look as he responded.

 “Do you want me to get Sabo?” he asked as an afterthought, already halfway out the door.  “We’re all here for you if you need us,” Marco said before he shut the door behind himself as he left. 

“No,” you whispered, Marco even being in the room already forgotten as your thoughts drifted. You sat in your bed, unable to think or react to anything. You stared out the window and tried to think of something - anything - that would change the outcomes you were facing. Your thoughts were jumbled and you couldn’t sort them like you had in the past, which just proved Marco right. The window was to your left so you laid back against the pillow and stared at the afternoon sky outside.

Eventually your thoughts quieted to silence in your mind as you thought about nothing. You almost felt like you were under the influence of medication again as you stared blankly out the window. Maybe you’d be able to think of a plan in a few months but for now you felt adrift, a life raft lost on the sea. You sat silently and a hand rose to absently rub your bad eye when it began to itch.

By the time that Sabo came back to your room, the sun had already set. You hadn’t moved from your position, not even to drink water. Your head was still turned on your pillow while you continued to look out the small window as the stars lit up the sky.

“Feeling any better?” Sabo asked quietly and took a seat next to you on the bed.

“No,” you said in a small voice, “but I have a question.”

“Of course,” Sabo said before he scooted closer to you. He looked so earnest and eager, like a dog who found its master after an extended absence. Once upon a time you would have cared, maybe even been flattered, but that kind of thing didn’t really matter anymore.

“Will the RA still keep me on now that I can’t research?” You slid your gaze from the sky outside when you asked him this, your stare firm when you looked at him. It was a question that had continually cropped up in your mind since your conversation with Marco. Sabo tilted his head to the side, his own bad eye revealed under his hair.

“You don’t have to complete any research, that’s never been -”

“So I don’t have to complete Project Seraphim? What’s the point of keeping me then?” you asked, hearkening back to the conversation you’d overheard long ago on the island with Ace.

“Wh - no, Sunny, it’s not like that. You can stay with us for as long as you want to -”

“That’s not what I heard before,” you said in a monotone and returned your good eye to the window, “I can’t read, I can’t think, I can’t research…I don’t know what to do. I can’t think of a…a…um…” 

 Your voice trailed off as you tried to think of the word you wanted and think through your idea. It was just beyond your mental reach, and you felt the urge to scream in frustration begin to build in you. Sabo waited patiently for you to finish your thought without interrupting you.

“Plan. I can’t think of a plan. If I can’t be of service, no one will want me and I’ll have to go somewhere else. And my b-bounty is so high, I don’t know what to do,” you said while an errant tear escaped your eye. 

“Oh, Sunny -” Sabo started to coo at you and this only drove your frustration higher. You didn’t want his pity or his fake concern, you wanted your damn mind to work .

“Stop. Stop talking to me like that,” you said and rubbed your bad eye again.

“Stop what? And don’t rub your eye, I know it’s hard but don’t,” Sabo said lightly and he reached across you to remove your hand from your face. He curled his fingers around yours as he began to talk to you. 

“It probably doesn’t itch, it’s phantom pain. What did you want me to stop?” Sabo’s voice was soft as he spoke to you, his fingers still entangled with yours while his thumb rubbed gently across your wrist.

“Talking to me like you care about me beyond what I can do for you. I’ve known the whole time that you wanted me to work for the RA, don't try to deny it. I heard you on the snail the first night we were on the island,” you accused before you tried weakly to pull your hand back. Sabo didn’t let go but frowned at your words.

“I did say those things, I won’t deny it. But it's not like that, it was so Dragon would see the benefit -” you cut Sabo off with another question that came to you suddenly. You wanted to get it out before it flitted out of your memory like an errant butterfly. 

“How did anyone find out what happened? I would have thought the Marines would have covered everything up,” you asked. 

“The whole fight was being live-snailed and broadcast to RA HQ. Dragon released the footage worldwide so people could see the Navy attacking and get a morale boost from Akainu-” Sabo said as you slumped back, not wanting to hear again about what happened between you and the Fleet Commander. 

“So there's really nowhere I can go.” You pinched the left side of your neck between your thumb and fingers as you spoke. It had been sore for days but nothing seemed to help the near constant ache.

“You’re staying with me and the RA,” Sabo said definitively, “You’ll be protected, we’re not going to let the Marines get you again. You don’t have to work if you don’t want to -”

“It doesn’t really matter if I want to, Sabo. I can’t right now. I can’t read, I can’t understand anything, I can’t even think right. You don’t have to worry about me overworking myself, I can’t work at all,” you said as a hysterical laugh bubbled up from your throat. The bark of your laughter filled the room as Sabo’s frown deepened. 

“I’m completely useless! A billion beri bounty and utterly useless - for anything!” you said and your laughter morphed into deep sobs. You doubled over while you covered your face with your hands to hide yourself from Sabo. You were so tired of crying but you couldn’t stop yourself from breaking down, your face tilted down to avoid looking at him as tears hit the thin cotton blanket on your lap. 

“Sunny, you’re not what you can produce. If you never worked again, I’d like you just the same,” Sabo bent his head to catch your eye and tightened his grip on your hand. You tried to rub your bad eye with your free hand but Sabo caught that one too, and he held them gently but firmly within his own.

“Sunny, look at me,” Sabo said softly and he refused to stop his attempt to catch your gaze. You looked up at him with tears obscuring the vision you still had left.

“I’ve always liked you. Always. Ever since the first time I saw you at that Marine base. I like everything about you - your curiosity, your kindness, your resilience, your cleverness -”

“But all that’s gone -” you cried out and tried to jerk back your hands, but Sabo’s grip was unrelenting, and he easily kept your wrists in his hands.

“It isn’t, it isn’t gone. You’re still the same person you were before, the same sweet, wonderful, kind, Sunny. Everything else doesn’t matter -”

“It matters to me ! I’m not the same person I was before - before the fight, before the island, before you, ” you began to cry again while you responded. Sabo considered you for a few moments before he released your hands back to you and setting them in your lap.

“You know I have a bad eye and some scarring, did Ace tell you how I was injured?” he asked and scooted farther from you. You shook your head as you sniffled.

“I was 11 years old and had stolen a sailing ship intending to become a pirate. Unfortunately, I was attacked by World Nobles who destroyed the ship and me along with it. I was dead in the water before Dragon saved my life and brought me to the RA where I was rehabilitated. He saved my life but I didn’t get everything back - I lost my eye, my memories, and my hand.” Confusion at Sabo’s statement made you pick your head up to look at him closer.

“Your hand? B-but, it works just fine -” Sabo gave you a small smile and continued his story while he took his glove off his left hand. 

“It works well, yes. But you’ve never seen me without long sleeves and gloves, not once. This is why,” Sabo said as he peeled the glove away from his fingers by the tips. Underneath was a fully articulated metal hand covered in small cables that ran up to Sabo’s wrist. Sabo opened it and closed it under your watch as you unabashedly stared. 

“But it feels like -” 

“The glove has extra insulation that mimics the feeling of flesh when I wear it. The hand is realistic enough that only a few people know my secret. Lindbergh made it for me, you’ll meet him at the RA base,” Sabo said as you turned his hand over for inspection. 

Sabo POV  

Sabo watched you look over his robotic hand with a small smile on his face. You were completely absorbed in the mechanics of his hand as your prior anxiety was forgotten in the face of the new curiosity in front of you. Sabo knew you were having a hard time adjusting but seeing you poking the cables and moving his fingers carefully to watch the hydraulics work showed him that you were the same person you’d always been, he just had to get you to see it too. 

“Very high quality piece. Interesting mechanics, too. Can you roll up your sleeve so I can see where it attaches to your arm? Ooh, really complex hydraulics…one of my side hobbies is robotics, well, it used to be. But I was reading all about cybernetics and cyborgs, really very interesting…can you feel anything in the hand? Any sensation? Have you read about what’s coming out of Water 7? From Cyborg Franky? He’s really the smartest person in the world, I think. Well, in his field. Either way, he’s truly a visionary. He’s changed his body to run on cola, maybe your hand could too - but what would be the point?” you rambled on while you moved Sabo’s index finger to full extension. He hummed happily and you looked up as if you finally remembered the hand was attached to Sabo. You looked sheepish to have gotten off track during his reveal but Sabo couldn’t have been happier.

“Sorry, I just got excited,” you said and put his hand down slowly. You leaned your head to the side and pulled down, trying to elongate and stretch your tight neck muscles. After that you unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn and forced Sabo to have one of his own.

“Don’t be sorry, I love this side of you. You still have your curiosity and thirst for knowledge. Everything else - reading, processing, eye strain - I’ll help you with. I happen to have experience in losing an eye,” Sabo said with a smile. You gave a small smile, no more than moving the corners of your mouth up but it was a start. 

“Starting with this, hold on,” Sabo said and stood from the bed. He didn’t put his glove back on even though the sensation of being without it made him feel as if he was completely naked.

“W-wait, Sabo, what are you -” Sabo cut you off as he easily moved the bed - with you in it - across the floor to the opposite wall, the window now to your right.

“Now you don’t have to turn your neck to look out the window. You can look at the moon as much as you’d like. I bet your neck’s sore from looking in one direction all day, yeah?” 

“Y-yeah,” you rubbed your neck as you responded absently. 

“See, I’ll help you get to where you want to be. One step at a time, together.” Sabo said with a firm nod. You returned the gesture but yawned again while you covered your mouth with your hand.

“I think it’s bedtime. We can start relearning things tomorrow, OK?” Sabo picked up his glove and flashed you a small smile while he spoke. Your eyelids began to droop even before you confirmed Sabo’s words with a nod.

“Can you go get Ace?” you asked as you laid back on your pillows. Sabo’s eyebrow quirked up.

“He’s ah, busy with Marco right now. Do you need something from him? I can get it for you,” Sabo said. He’d seen Marco pinning Ace to the side of the ship with a taloned foot while his hands held Ace’s over his head. Ace wasn’t fighting physically but he was crying and loudly whispering as Marco spoke to him in hushed tones. When Sabo passed by, Marco had turned an arm into a feathered wing and shielded Ace from his brother’s sight.

“Oh, uhm, no. Nothing really, it's fine,” your face turned a slight shade of red as you stammered.

“Sunny, please, let me help you. I want to, you have to say what you need,” Sabo urged. More blood rushed to your face as you picked at fuzz on your blanket.

“It's just that, um, well, when we were on the island together, he would - well, we would sleep in the um, same bed. And it was really relaxing for me, with the um, you know, warmth. I would always fall asleep so quickly,” you said nervously. “But he's busy, so, but um yeah, it's not a big deal.” 

“Sorry, Love. Maybe I’ll see him later and I can ask then,” he replied and began to put on his glove again. Sabo wished it was him you called for but it wasn't the case. After he finished with the glove, Sabo grabbed his pipe and started for the door. His left hand was on the handle when he heard you speak again. 

“I mean, maybe you could, if you wanted to, sleep in the bed? Nothing like, just with clothes on- well, we’ve done it before, a lot of times, I just didn’t think - I wasn’t sure if -” you hesitated as Sabo’s hand paused on the doorknob. 

Sabo had worked for the Revolutionary Army for a long time and had been trained to never give up information, even under duress or torture. He was thankful for all the hours spent with Dragon and Hack now as he turned to you as casually as he could muster. This was the first time in his memory that you’d actually sought out his touch rather than just accepting what Sabo had pushed on you. He didn’t want to blow his chances by being too forward or aggressive.

“I don’t mind. If it would help you sleep better, that is,” Sabo said as he tried  to will himself to be less awkward. “Are you sure you want me to join you?” 

You bit your lip and nodded while you moved yourself closer to the wall. Sabo removed his hat once more and climbed into the bed deliberately slowly to give you ample time to refuse or change your mind. He was still fully clothed as he laid down next to you on his side. You curled up into him without hesitation as you sought the heat that he provided you. 

“Warmer,” you said sleepily and tucked your face against his chest.

“Demanding,” Sabo replied lightly with a chuckle as he heated his temperature slightly higher. You hummed but didn’t reply as the two of you drifted into silence, your cheek pressed against his chest. Sabo felt his body finally relax as he realized he was also tired, it had been an emotional day for everyone. He had nearly fallen asleep when he felt you tug at his glove.

“ ‘M still mad about the seastone,” you murmured. Sabo grunted.

“That’s fair, I deserve it. We’ll talk about it and I’ll apologize in the morning,” he replied. He did want to talk about what happened but now wasn’t the time as you finally relaxed and drifted off into sleep.

“C’n I feel your real hand?” you asked, half asleep. He didn’t have to ask to know you meant his robotic hand.

“Mm,” Sabo agreed, removing his glove. Laying his hand down on the bed, your fingertips roved over the metal as if trying to commit it to memory.

“S’cool,” you mumbled before you laced your fingers around his. 

The last memory Sabo had of that night was falling asleep with your hand holding his own. 

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @epochal-oracle @divinedolliebun @rebeccawinters

[demynom]

You stood up and paid the cost, I guess that truth and justice lost

So much for fighting like a Fey

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Hello again wonderful person of the Internet!

Thank you for answering my previous question! But I have came to you for another one.

So I’ve seen a little bit of dialogue from Ford, but how does he speak? Like what is his speaking mannerisms? Is it all gibberish? Does he stutter? Does he repeat words?

Keep on making your art and being awesome! :)

~ Question asked from the Tiniest Cyclops ~

Hello, hello again, tiny cyclops in my inbox!

As I mentioned in this post where I go a bit more in depth on Ford's brain injury, Ford suffers from aphasia! Which is basically the loss of one's ability to express language and communicate, while not losing the ability to understand it. But I'm sure you already knew this; and if not, the more you know!

How does he speak? It really depends when you were to go up and talk to him in the timeline. His speech mannerisms the few following years right after his head trauma is very different from how he speaks now in canon! He's had 30 years to recover, after all.

Ford's speech right after his injury was practically non-exitstent. He was smacked in the face with all of the textbook definition symptoms of aphasia, ramped up to 100.

Speaking in short or incomplete sentences.

Speaking in sentences that don't make sense.

Substituting one word for another or one sound for another.

Speak unrecognizable words.

Have difficulty finding words.

Conversations with him back then were not "gibberish" per se, but more so just... slow. And frustrating for everyone involved, although no one could ever be more frustrated than Ford himself. I mean, can you imagine? He could barely say anything without monumental effort, and whatever meager words he managed to squeeze out of his throat were lackluster, to say the least. Every part of his speech were hindered: grammar, pronunciation, heck, even the tone, volume and rythm of his speech didn't always come out correctly.

Due to how recent his brain injury was, there was also the added physical impairments to his speech. The muscles involved in producing speech were weakened, affecting Ford's control and clarity of his words (this is also called: dysarthria).

From an outsider's perspective, listening to him would have felt a little like listening to an extremely corrupted audio file, or a faulty record player. He would often take long pauses in the middle of his words; his words sometimes blended into one another; and his sentences were short, and simple. I think this quote from this website explains it best.

"Speech may be 'telegraphic' omitting small words such as 'the'. So, 'tomorrow I'm going to the pub with my wife for our anniversary', may be expressed as 'tomorrow...pub... wife... anniversary'. This requires the listener to accurately piece the message together."

So, yeah! As you can imagine, speaking for him was extremely hard. Often times, the townfolk he tried to speak to didn't have the patience to stick around while he finished a sentence, and gradually even Ford lost patience with himself, so he just. Gave up. Which was why he used to be much quieter in the beginning, lurking around town wordlessly, not even really bothering even when someone tried to initiate conversation with him. For a genius who once prided himself so much of his eloquence, losing that ability was a huge blow for him.

How fast one recovers from aphasia really depends on the severity of the injury. It can either take up to a few hours, days, maybe even weeks to fully reover with no long term repercussions, or the symptoms can last months, even years to shake off, and occasionally it's a lifelong condition. Ford, due to the severity of his injury, drew the short end of the stick, and was stuck with the lingering aftereffects of aphasia pretty much forever.

BUT, he evenutally managed to find the will to speak again! At some point during his 30 years of recovery, he decided that he'll figure this shit out himself, goddamnit, he was a scientist. He outsmarted a demon! He didn't have time to be depressed, he needed to relearn how to SPEAK!! (fuck yeah, determination, baby).

And learn he did. Very painfully, very gradually, Ford became basically his own speech therapist for a few decades and relearned everything his body and brain forgot. And although the results aren't perfect- he still stutters, he still gets stuck on words and he still stumbles over them- considering the fact that he had no professional treatment from a clinic or doctor available, it was good enough.

Now he won't shut up! (lovingly)

[birrdify]

im obsessed wiht your AU mister moloch ...... @can-your-kinitopet (for Some reason i cant tag your main sobs)) i Will draw more whne i come back from the Dread. Dinner

[victusinveritas]

Prion disease/CWD/Not-Deer