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petertingle-yipyip · 1 year ago

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WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

one - deja vu

tags: n/a two // masterlist // MAD AT GOD (DD CANON)

welcome back to the MAG universe! this time around we are rolling through the Punisher series. i’m so excited to develop her friendship with Frank and see what happens between her and Billy!

Pairing: Billy x Livia (casual), Frank x Livia (platonic)

Word Count: 5, 728

Summary: Being back in the Kitchen almost immediately pulls her back into a fight. But without Matt, what has she become?

You moved over quickly, using Luke as footing to jump from after he knocked her into a short spin so she faced away from you. You moved in a fluid motion to connect the wires between your wrists as you hooked one leg over her shoulders and jammed the other against her spine. You leaned forward enough to get the wire across her throat before you dropped to land on your feet.

She was quick to flip her sai in her grip and slam it through your thigh. Your leg buckled and she used the chance to free herself, spinning to slam her foot against the side of your head. You fell to your back with a wet thump and you pushed to your elbows, craning your neck to see her weapon skewering your thigh. The red stained tip poked through and any movement sent a sharp pain through your body, eminating deep within your bone. She dared to move closer and you kicked the opposing foot against her chest.

Once that foot landed back on the ground, the pain on the other side made you cry out. You managed to drag yourself to your feet and stood unsteadily, hopping on your good leg to try and maintain balance. You reached awkwardly behind yourself for your staffs, having to connect them quickly and use them as a cane for the moment.

“You’ll die down here with us.” Elektra’s voice taunted you, though she was no where to be seen. “As you should.”

You hobbled in a small circle while you tried to find where the voice was coming from. But there was no one, not even the ghost of footsteps or shuffles to give her away. The rest of your group was gone, as if they never came down with you. Not even the elevator.

Hadn’t they just been there?

The tunnels around you stretched as far as you could see, dripping and collecting small puddles. Your labored breathing filled the silence between drips and you felt something eerily out of place about the whole thing.

“Come on then.” You challenged weakly. A deep breathe before you screamed into the wet darkness. “Come out and kill me!”

“Livia.” He said calmly and you spun so fast you nearly slipped in the water. But when you glanced down to find your footing, you were in a puddle of blood. All of the water had turned to blood. You closed your eyes tightly and shook your head, assuming it was your own mania creeping in, but when you opened them the sight hadn’t changed.

“This is what you wanted.” He used the same eerily calm tone, even as the ground shook beneath your feet.

“You should’ve left.” You said angrily as the drips began to land on your forehead. “You shouldn’t be here, Matt.”

“Then why didn’t you keep him safe?” Elektra appeared at his side, walking around him like a predator taunting her prey. Her fingers trailed along the back of his shoulders.

But even in the dim light, neither of them looked like themselves. They were soaking wet and it looked it was water on their bodies, but it reflected red once it hit the ground. Their skins were tinted blue, cyanotic to match their puffy lips and swollen bodies. Their eyes were hollow, sunken in and hardly even there. Everytime their mouths open, blood spilled. They looked like corpses that had been left at the bottom of the river for months to decay in silence.

“I tried.” You answered but the sound barely registered.

Your eye suddenly stung and when you reached to wipe it, your hand came back with fresh red blood. The scar above your eye, the deep gash your mask left from your fight with Fisk, was now fresh and seeping into your eye. The scar on your cheekbone stained the lower half of your face. Your chest snapped and the cartilage fell loose and the old cracks in your ribs fell open. One by one, old injuries became fresh again and each one felt like a hit to your stamina, to your strength, until you fell back to your knees.

Elektra appeared in front of you now, reaching with a sadistic smile for her sai that still dripped with your blood. You tried to back away but landed against Matt, who moved quickly to pin you to the ground. You struggled against him, but he leaned more of his weight against you and left you flailing and kicking.

“Matt? Matt, what are you doing?” You said in a panic but your own blood filled your mouth.

Elektra twisted the weapon in your leg and you screamed out, a gurggled sound that nearly choked you. You kicked your other foot at her but it moved through her, as if she was never really there.

“You’ll die. Painfully.” She threatened before a second sai appeared in her hands.

She climbed over your body, knees on either side of your ribs as she lined her weapon with the center of your chest. By then you were crying, hair sticking to your face and thrashing your body under her weight. But she didn’t move. Matt didn’t move. Instead, they offered each other wicked smiles before both looking down at you.

“You could’ve saved me, Livvy… Why didn’t you?” Matt asked.

You opened your mouth to answer but before your voice could find you, Elektra’s weapon began to press into your chest.

Breaking the skin earned a whine.

Her jamming the heel of her hand against it to break through your sternum drew a groan.

Her slow, intentional pressure against your heart earned a plead.

“I can fix this.” You tried, barely a whisper above the shattering thuds of collapsing rock.

“If you could’ve…” She said lowly, leaning forward to meet your panicked eyes, dripping blood from her lips. “You would’ve already.”

Your eyes went wide at the wet sound of the sai piercing your heart.

———————————————————————————————————————

You shot up in your bed and a hand instantly moved to your cheek. The skin was clear of blood but covered in a layer of sweat. You felt above your brow and found the same. With a small noise of stress, you threw your comforter back and shuffled to the bathroom. A hand was rubbing the center of your chest, haunted by the tip of Elektra’s weapon.

You flipped the light, squinting through it for a minute until your eyes adjusted. You planted both hands against the countertop and leaned in to see the faint lines of scars around your eye. The subtle discolorations that followed the shape of your mask, permanent memories of your time as a vigilante, of that hole deep inside you that you couldn’t quite fill. Quantico had done very little towards that gaping feeling, that hole somewhere too deep for you reach that felt like it would swallow you everyday.

You thought that FBI training, getting away from the Kitchen, would maybe be good for you. It’d be time to breathe, maybe even grieve. But those words didn’t seem to mean anything to you anymore. It just felt like they were adding to that depth, sucking out any remnants of progress you had made.

Maybe coming home wasn’t going to be any better.

You blew out a sigh and splashed your face with cold water, a contrast to the heat that seemed to live in your blood now. You felt warm, everywhere you went. No matter the temperature outside, you were boiling inside. But if someone were to touch your skin, they’d never know.

That was who you were now. Not Livia. Not even Exodus. You were someone else. Someone with Livia’s memories and tendencies, with Exodus’ mania and skills, but other things were left unaccounted for. Who’s morals did you maintain? Who’s relationships were important?

Who’s heart beat in your chest? Who’s blood was in your veins?

But if you thought about it too long, Matt’s voice would creep into your thoughts. Random things he had told you throughout the time you knew him. Empty promises he made to Exodus. Honest sentiment he gave to Livia. The last words you heard him say.

You shoved those thoughts to a deep corner of your mind as you headed back to the living room. The chest in the closet seemed to call out to you. The chest full of boxing memorabilia pertaining to Matt’s father, some of his own collection and some you were able to add for him, one of his bibles, and the false bottom that allowed him to hide his suit.

The suit that would never be there again.

You sighed and shook your head before heading to your bedroom to find clothes for the day. You might as well get ready since you knew your mind wasn’t going to let you sleep again anytime soon.

Wasting as much time as you could, you got ready and headed out into the city. You had been back from Quantico for about a week and you were trying to settle back into the Kitchen, but the nightmare of Midland haunted you every night. It was a little different everytime, sometimes the words they spoke to you changed and once it was Matt that killed you with your own blade, but it always the same premise. The three of you, everything coated in blood, and you died.

It was either your conscious gnawing at you and refusing to let you escape, even in sleep, or it was the universe telling you that death would find you. Either way, it never left your mind.

As you were out, you saw Matt in every face. Everywhere you went, you saw him. You almost called his name a few times until you got a better look and remembered he was dead. It felt like you were losing yourself in the grief, in the hopes that it was all a bad dream. Maybe you were still dreaming?

But then someone bumped your shoulder walking by and you knew you weren’t. Weeks had passed and you still couldn’t fully stomach the fact that he was gone. In your mind, you just wanted him there and he was everywhere but nowhere all at once.

You were wandering your usual streets, fighting through the relentless deja vu, stopping at one of the few lunch spots you missed, and ended up at the only building you thought could help. It was one of the few places you didn’t avoid prior to your time away, and now, maybe it was the only chance to cool the blaze under your skin. To fill the hole.

You walked in with a shaky breath and found Father Lantom outside the confessional, talking to one of the nuns with hushed urgency. But as you approached, he sent the nun away and turned to you with a small but welcoming smile. He gestured to the small, private conversation box and you simply nodded. He stepped inside first and you followed suit into your side about a minute later.

“Good to have you back.” Father Lantom said after a short silence. “How was your training?”

“Good, yeah, it was good.” You answered simply. “Dex said everything went really well so now it’s just waiting for approval or something, I don’t really remember…”

“It was quick.”

“Yeah, it was a specialty.. Accelerated… Accelerated program.” Your eyes fell and you noticed you were wringing your fingers. Since when did you do that? “Look, Father, I don’t know if there’s something I’m supposed to say to start this but…”

“Whatever you need to say, Alivia.” He offered genuinely. “Whenever you’re ready to say it.”

“I keep having this nightmare, Elektra and Matt and me. Under Midland and we all die together… Usually El does it but Matt’s done it too, killed me. And I thought being away would make it easier. But it feels worse… I can’t sleep. I hardly eat. I just feel empty.”

“Have you ever felt anything like this before?”

“When I was younger, when I realized what I was going to have to do in the Red Room. I didn’t feel like a person…”

“Hmm..”

“But then I got out and out of nowhere I meet Matt and suddenly… It was like my heart was beating in my chest for the first time.” You couldn’t fight the sad smile that stretched your lips. “Now, it’s like anytime I think about him, my heart can’t beat. It’s just there, weighing down my chest like a rock.”

“When Matt would first tell me about his night activities, he was so twisted up about some of the things he found.” He spoke carefully, treading a fine line between breaking the seal of confession and finding the details that he hoped would offer you comfort. “Some of the things he had seen, what some people in this town were capable of…”

“People like me?”

“No. He never spoke unkindly about you, even before he knew.”

That seemed to fill the hole a little but the blaze remained.

“Yeah, he wasn’t the type…” You sniffled. “Were you able to help him?”

“What I offered wasn’t the help he needed. I could offer bible verses and quotes to him every day, but he knew them all. He knew the stories and the psalms as easy as he knew his way here.”

“So what’d you say?”

“I told him to listen to his heart, because his had always been good. Angry and hurt, yes, but also good.”

“I’ve never felt this alone.” You spoke, a distance in your voice as you stared at the wood door in front of you. “I’ve been left before, by others and by my own choice. I’ve sabotaged my life to a point where I had to be alone and I’ve sacrificed my lifestyle to protect people around… I don’t want to feel this again.”

“Feeling these kinds of things is what makes us human.”

“Yeah..” You nodded, finding the familiar mental ledge that could take it all away. That could turn it all off so it didn’t matter, that would let Livia rest. All you had to do… Was give her… A little push. “Maybe that humanity is the issue.”

“Guilt is a good thing.. It’s a soul’s call to action, the innate feeling that something is wrong. The only way to rid yourself of it is to correct your mistakes.”

“Correct my mistakes…” You repeated slowly. “I can’t correct this one… Not the way I’d need to. But I know how to get rid of these feelings.”

“Alivia?” He asked quickly and the concern was palpable in his voice.

“Thanks, Father… It’s been nice catching up.”

And with that, you left the church. You took a deep breathe when you stepped out, the crisp New York air hitting you as soon as you stepped out. There was something freeing in that breath. The heat still blazed with every beat of your stoned heart, leaving a trail of warmth through your veins. The hole still lived in your soul but now you fed it, all the sorrow and despair and loneliness was shoved into the hole. It didn’t fill it by any means, but it satisfied it enough that it wouldn’t swallow you whole. It allowed you to live, and for now that was enough.

The rest of your day was relatively uneventful. You went home for a while and did some reorganzing. You cleaned up some of Matt’s leftover belongings that you were unable to touch before. You even started a pile of things that you figured you should donate. Someone else in the Kitchen could probably use some of those suits.

You took down some photos and put them in the closet with his chest. You even took down that painting from the art gallery you bought. It was the red one Vanessa had showed you. You bought it because you had liked it. It made you think of the Man in the Mask and how turbulent your relationship was but now that he was gone, it was just another token of a dead life. So you shoved it away as well.

You cleaned some of the things you had been neglecting and began to feel like you were actually getting some sort of normalcy back. It wasn’t the normalcy that Matt would’ve wanted for you. You could recognize that, but you never expected to have that anyway. You never had the normalcy he wanted for you when he wasn’t around, so you felt no requirement to find it now that he was gone. And maybe you owed it to his memory to live a real life, live a life of peace, but that was never part of you.

It was later that night when you realized what day it was.

Curtis’ support group for veterans.

You were always welcomed there, ever since you started with Anvil. He never made you talk but the option was always there. And you did, occasionally, if only to shut down one of the other guys. There was a certain respect from Curtis that you didn’t find in other people. He knew you were from an ‘elite covert kill squad’ since childhood but he didn’t ask other questions. He didn’t need to know everything to know that you were lost. It was refreshing and you liked to stay after official sessions to talk about whatever you were thinking or feeling.

But glancing at the time, it was too late for that. So you shrugged it off and decided you’d go next time. At least to say hello to an old friend, the least judgemental one you had left. Instead, you decided you’d go to the bookstore and add to your to-be-read collection while continuing to ignore texts from everyone that knew you.

It wasn’t long until alleged vigilantism found it’s way to you. That next morning, stories of an assault at a construction zone hit your ears. Bodies found under fresh concrete with more blunt force injuries than they should’ve had. Then, estimated to be a few hours later, a hit against a prominent crime family.

It had a familiarity to it that you couldn’t quite place, but it gave you an odd sense of comfort. There was the haunt of concern in your bones, as if you worried that there was something left unanswered within you, but Matt took that part with him. When he died, so did that part of you that wanted to do something good. That wanted to help the neighborhood you loved. You liked the fact that someone else was handling it for you, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t vaguely set off an old itch that liked to be scratched. An old manic, sadistic, worrisome itch that could easily spiral to a full blown bloodbath.

So instead, you carried on with your day. You went to the grocery store to refill your fridge and your pantry. You bought some new clothes, more fitting for an FBI agent, and got some plastic totes to put away some of Matt’s things. The things you didn’t want to look at but couldn’t quite bring yourself to get rid of.

While you were out, you decided to stop by an old warehouse. You weren’t even sure if he would be there, but it was the only starting point you had. You knocked lightly on the door before heading inside, watching the corners and dark shadows carefully.

“Melvin.” You called out when you saw the vague shape of a man sweeping in the corner. “I just wanna talk.”

“Whoever you are, I don’t talk.” He said sharply, coming into full view with a wrench gripped tightly in his hands. “Just go on back the way you came and this never happened.”

“We had a mutual friend.” You said simply, lifting your head a little. “Our Man in the Mask.”

“Shit.” He breathed, slowly dropping the wrench. “I uh, heard he’s gone… That true?”

“Yeah. Your suit protected him from a lot but couldn’t withstand a falling building.”

“Shit.” He said again.

“Mmm.” You agreed. “I came to ask you for something. A vest. Clean lines, simple build. Something I can wear daily, under my normal clothes.”

“Guess that makes you Exodus, huh?” He broke into a small smile that didn’t last. “Sorry but I don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, I figured… Neither do I, not really. Ever since Red went down, I…” You took a deep breath. “I got a good job lined up, just need a little something.”

He sighed heavily and turned to the ceiling before facing you again.

“I’ll do you a favor, just this once cause your friend always kept his word. But don’t expect anything else.” He said firmly, pointing a finger at you.

“One and done.” You nodded.

“Alright.. Ah jeez, okay. Your measurements the same? Red and black still?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” You looked at your arms and chest. “And uh, no. No red.”

“C’mon.” He guffawed. “You and Daredevil were partners. You don’t want anything to remember him?”

“Just do whatever.” You shrugged. “How much?”

“It’s on me. I never charged your buddy so… Just gimme a day or two. I’ll get you something nice.”

“I appreciate it.” You offered a smile, though you didn’t quite mean it. “Thanks, Melvin.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved you off. “Don’t ask me for nothing. Alright? I mean it.”

“I get it.” You insisted as you backed towards the door. “Looking forward to it.”

Later that day, not long after you had unloaded all of your groceries, a hard knock sounded at your door. You ignored it, assuming it was just your friends coming to see if you were home yet. Either that, some kids screwing around, or it was just someone from your past coming to kill you. Who exactly was out to get you at that point, you weren’t sure, but there were enough skeletons in your closet that hadn’t fallen out yet. So you went about your business until the door flew open and someone rushed in.

Calmly, you grabbed the gun you tucked between the fridge and wall and turned to face whoever was in your apartment. You gripped it comfortably and cleared your throat, seeing them turn with a sharp gasp. Your brows raised expectantly and Karen’s hands shot up instantly.

“God, Livia, you scared me.” She breathed before covering a hand to her chest. “How long have you been back?”

“How often do you come into my apartment?” You asked instead, lowering the gun but not putting it down.

“I just-” She tried to explain but her eyes kept falling to the gun. “Can you put that down, please?”

“Don’t trust me anymore?” You raised your brows before tucking the gun into the back of your waistband. “Answer my question.”

“Has he reached out to you?” She asked instead.

“I’m not playing games, Karen. If you have something to tell me, then spit it out and get out of my apartment. If you only came here to fuck around…”

“Frank.” She said quickly. “Frank’s back.”

“Explains the news.” You tilted your head in acknowledgement. “What’d he come to you for?”

“Something about some Micro, a guy that came after him recently. Knows who he is, that he’s alive.”

“Micro… This guy have a real name?”

“David Lieberman, NSA analyst that is officially shot dead by Homeland Security a year ago.”

“Only he’s not.” You nodded. “Okay. Where’s Frank now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he going after Lieberman?” You closed your eyes and rubbed your forehead, weighing the pros and cons of you getting involved.

“Probably… But Frank said he’s a- He’s a spook. How would he find him?”

“Well, he wouldn’t go for him directly, but someone that knows him or is relevant to him just might work to draw him out. What other names did you work out?”

“Carson Wolf got the whole story cut, could be something there.”

“Probably.. Name sounds familiar.” You felt the scales tilting back and forth in your brain. “Why did you come and tell me about this?”

“Because I-” She hesitated, as if she had just noticed your reaction. “He doesn’t really seem like he wants me involved.”

“So you want me to go run into a fight I know nothing about?” You dropped your hand against your leg with a smack and opened your eyes. “Don’t you think if Frank wanted my help, he would’ve came to me himself?”

“Maybe he didn’t know where to find you.” She offered, clearly searching for anything to convince you.

“Or maybe he didn’t care enough to find me.” You countered with a shrug. But seeing the desperation in her eyes, feeling the plead in her bones, you sighed heavily. “I’ll think about it… I’ll look into Lieberman, maybe there’s a wife or siblings or something. And this Wolf guy, I think I heard his name around Quantico so I guess I can pull some strings in that direction.”

“Thank you.” She let out a sharp exhale, as if she had been holding her breath for your response. “Have you told Foggy you’re back?”

“No.” You turned away to busy yourself in your kitchen. “Haven’t told anyone.”

“I’m sure he’d love to see you.” She tried gently. You noticed the hesitation in her words and realized she was walking on eggshells, completely unsure of how stable you were. “Or at least hear from you.”

“The last conversation we had was an argument.” You admitted, though your voice lacked the remorse it should’ve had and it was too late to add it in now. “And he flinched away from me… He told me that if I wanted to get myself killed, I was more than welcome to as long as I didn’t try to blame anyone other than myself for it.”

Her mouth opened and closed in silence, like she was chomping at the air while she tried to find a response. Finally, her voice found her and it was the same response you expected.

“He had to have still been in shock.”

“He had more than enough time to get over it.”

“I know he wouldn’t say that to you and mean it.” She reasoned.

“Yeah, just like Matt never would’ve said half of what he said to me during the Castle trial, right?” Your brows raised in accusation and you saw her expression drop. “Yeah, sometimes pain or shock bring out what people really mean.”

“Livia-”

“Doesn’t matter.” You cut in firmly. “Next time you see Frank, ask him if he wants my help. In the meantime, I’ll poke around and start building some intel.”

“Thanks.” She forced a tight smile. “And I’ll talk to Foggy, if you want me to.”

You simply shrugged.

“He’s one of your best friends, isn’t he?” She asked gently, scared for what your answer would be.

“Most of the people I’ve called friends have grown to hate me for one reason or another… I guess I always knew I’d add Foggy to that list one of these days.” You answered flatly.

“C’mon, Livia.” She tried again.

“Better that than dead… You can go now.”

With a small gesture of defeat, she left. And you wondered if you were going to regret getting involved.

Some quick research into Lieberman showed he did leave a family behind, a wife and two kids. You had no intentions of hurting them but should there be a need, you had blackmail material. He was allegedly shot dead by Homeland after resisting arrest. There was nothing about why he was wanted by Homeland, nor was there anything about his career. But he was NSA, so there should’ve been something other than a passing mention.

That all just meant someone wanted it to go away, and that someone was likely this Carson Wolf character.

You thought about going over to the address you could find for Sarah Lieberman but you assumed Frank would’ve been there already. And two unfamiliar visitors in one day would’ve triggered some sort of concern in the wife, who you had to assume was helping hide her undead husband until you knew otherwise. Instead, you wrote down the address and looked into Carson Wolf. You found that he was one of the higher ups at Homeland Security. It was an interesting connection that you’d have to poke at later.

With a little digging, you also found some information on the construction site incident. There was a feature on the company’s webpage about a new employee, which was asterisked as inactive the day after the bodies were found. There was no picture on the page but you could only assume that Pete Castiglione was the one and only, Frank Castle.

You decided to get out of the house and headed out to get something to drink. You passed by Josie’s and thought about going in. But when you reached the door, you were hit with one of many memories of you and Matt in that place so you had to pass. You passed other bars as you wandered and none really seemed inviting. Eventually, your feet grew tired of aimlessly moving so you settled on a bar you had been to with Billy a few times. Low and behold, Billy was already there.

You felt his eyes following you as you passed by, taking a seat at the bar a few seats down. You ordered your drink and when it came out, you spun the liquid around the glass, listening vaguely to Billy talking about his service and Frank.

The woman kept asking questions pertaining to Frank and their conversation held your interest. Without making it obvious, you noted what she was asking.

Did he get dirty? Could he have been involved in drugs over there?

But why ask questions about a dead man? Who was she?

The gears in your brain were turning when you heard Billy’s question.

“So you’re single?” He asked, clear flirting in his tone. Your head cocked slightly and your brow raised, noticing he was already looking at you for a reaction. He laughed and tilted his bottle towards you but you simply smiled and shook your head.

He went back to his flirting and you rolled your eyes slightly at his next remark. But you did hear a name.

Special Agent Madani.

You could tell she was either going to be one hell of an obstacle or one hell of an ally.

You watched her leave and then decided to slide into her seat.

“Billy Russo, always the player.” You teased with a sly smile and he grinned. “How’ve you been? Lonely?”

“Livia Yersova.” He said happily. “And here I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Well, Quantico was fun but I got bored.” You shrugged playfully. “Knew everything they wanted to teach me.”

“Yeah, I bet you did..” He nodded, never dropping that sly smile. “Bet you made one hell of an impression too.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Yes, you do… Y’know, I missed you.”

“You did not.” You scoffed lightly, gesturing to the bartender for a second drink. “Judging by your latest visitor.”

“Ah, I see what this is.” He chuckled. “You’re jealous.”

“In your dreams, Russo.” You rolled your eyes with an amused smile. “Who was that anyways? She was asking a lot of questions…”

“Dinah Madani.” He answered simply. “Homeland agent that brought a team through Anvil earlier.”

“Homeland, huh?” You turned towards the door even though she was long gone. “Interesting…”

“Why?”

When you didn’t answer, he reached for your chin and turned your face towards him.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” His eyes darted between yours as he tried to figure you out, but you knew he never would. Not in any way that would mean anything.

“Just curious why a Homeland agent is asking about a dead man is all…” You shrugged. “And it’s a pattern.”

“Oh, it’s a pattern.” He said with a nod, acting as if it explained everything. “What does the pattern tell you?”

“That you like women in power.” You answered plainly. “Me, now in the FBI and everything else I’ve done. Madani, in Homeland with what I would assume is solid standing. Next thing you know, you’re gonna bed a senator.”

“I’ll still come back to my best girl.” He smiled, tapping under your chin with a click of his tongue.

“Yeah, like there was any competition.” You chuckled.

“When’d you get back?” He nodded towards you, decidingly dropping your previous conversation topic.

“Week ago. I thought about coming by, decided not to.” A slight shrug of your shoulder.

“Why not?” He almost sounded hurt.

“Just tired. Needed sound time to settle in.”

“Yeah?” He leaned in slightly and raised his brows. “How about we spend some quality time tonight then, hmm? You got any other plans?”

“Hmm.” The corner of your mouth lifted to a small smile. “I’ll have to check my schedule, Mr. Russo.”

He clicked his tongue and leaned back, wagging his finger at you with an amused smirk of his own. “I missed hearing you say that, pretty lady.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You nodded and sipped your drink.

You spent a little while longer drinking with Billy, catching up and teasing each other playfully. It was almost enough for you to forget what you had been asked earlier that night, to involve yourself in Frank’s latest crusade that he likely expected to cover on his own. Finding Frank would’ve been easy enough if you had a general direction to go in, but where could be? Would he be going after Micro or would he be taunting Micro to go after him again?

If this guy was as much a spook as Karen’s been led to believe, it wouldn’t be easy to draw him out. But knowing Frank, he would find a way to pull him out of his hidey-hole. Which meant you could follow your own leads tonight and potentially meet him, or you could worry about it tomorrow and waste a night with an old fling.

Billy was tempting… And Frank would be fine for one more night, wherever he was.

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ordinalastronaut · 3 months ago

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From Now Until Forever (pt.3)

a/n : a follow up to chapter one (technically). Back to Maria's POV with some other friendly faces in the mix. I think I have one more chapter in the tank on this story before it's over. After that, I might move it to AO3, I might not, no clue but I hope you enjoy and have a great week, reader

summary : Maria's trying to come to terms with a life altering injury while returning to the life she no longer has. Natasha just wants her wife to be happy.

Other tags: established blackhill, mentions of injury, tattooed Maria Hill, because I can't help it, supportive Natasha, best friend Laura to the rescue, Service dog mentioned

word count : 2.7k

❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖𐅡❖

“Alright so it looks like we just need two cans of tomatoes and some garlic and that should do it,” Natasha looked up from the list Laura had sent them with.

Maria pushed past the fatigue that slowly crept over the right side of her body, not wanting to think about the cane she had left in the car. She had made her decision and now she needed to stick by it.

“The garlic is on the other side of the store,” the brunette motioned with her left hand, “If you want to go get it, I bet you’ll still beat me to the end of the aisle if I pick up the tomatoes.”

“Are you just saying that so you get to see that dog by yourself?” Natasha used her chin to motion to the service dog that was walking dutifully next to its owner in front of them.

“Who? Me?” Maria pretended to gasp, “I’d never deny you the opportunity to look at a dog. I think I explicitly said that in my vows.”

“That’s true,” the Russian nodded and looked once more at the list and then back to the produce section with a sigh, “okay fine, meet you back here after I get the garlic, no dog looking without me.”

The Commander smiled, nodded, and tried her best not to look like she was about to collapse as she took the cart in her hands and ever so slowly pushed it down the aisle. Section by section she balanced the task of staying upright and searching the cans of tomatoes for the right brand. Her occupational therapist would be over the moon at her “real-world application” of multitasking.

She was halfway down the row when she finally found them and used the item in her hands to keep her from falling over. The wheels held as she bent down, but seemed to have a mind of her own as she stood up and went careening into the cart next to her.

“Sorry,” Maria ground out as she regained control of the shopping cart, willing the embarrassment out of her cheeks as her hands threatened to spasm and drop the can in her left hand.

“No problem at all,” the man gave her a broad smile as he straightened out his own cart.

That was when Maria noticed the other aspect of the man, his left leg ended in a sleek black prosthetic. She only felt bad about staring for half a second when she realized the man was taking in the surgical scars that marred most of the tattoos she had.

“They looked better a little over a year ago,” she joked and forced herself not to turn her body to hide the right side.

“Would you believe me if I said I had a calf tattoo up until a few years ago?” The man laughed and motioned to his leg, or lack thereof.

Maria winced as she placed the cans in her cart, “bummer.”

“Blake,” the man stuck out his hand.

“Maria,” the Commander offered hers back, knowing that her handshake would be nothing of what it once was.

“This is Molly,” he motioned to the dog in front of him, “you can pet her if you’d like.”

“My wife’s going to lose her mind if she finds out I got to pet this cutie,” and yet she couldn’t help but stick her hand out and let the dog sniff it before scratching right behind her ear.

Molly’s tongue flopped out of her mouth as she soaked up the affection.

“You two dog people?” Blake asked with another easy smile.

“Oh yeah, we were about to rescue one before…” she motioned with her left hand to the other side of her body, “and nowit doesn’t seem like it’s in the cards.”

The man hummed, “I’m the opposite, never a big fan of them before the accident. Now I couldn’t picture my life without her.”

Maria got one final dog pet before she looked up again. “That’s really nice.”

A few minutes passed as they continued to talk, and Maria continued to pet the dog in front of her. She had learned that they were local and had offered up that she and Natasha were just in town visiting. They both wanted to ask about the other's injuries, but they both kept their questions to themselves.

“She’s spoiled rotten, I can tell you that much,” Blake laughed, “I swear when I take her to the VA she doesn’t even look at other dogs, thinks she’s one of the humans.”

“She should,” Maria smiled, “I’ve spent my fair share of time in the VA, everyone who works in those buildings deserves to be pampered.”

“You ever thought about a working dog?” Blake asked, genuine interest in his features, “A service dog?”

“Oh- no, no I-” she shook her head and grabbed onto the handle of the cart once more for stability, “my mobility is pretty much tapped out after a grocery trip. I’m in no shape to look after a dog.”

“There are actually a lot of dogs who are great for mobility and low maintenance-”

Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by a slight squeal from the other end of the aisle as Natasha’s eyes got even bigger now that she saw the proximity of Maria’s hand to Molly’s head.

“My wife,” Maria chuckled as the Russian speed walked to where they stood.

“May I?” Natasha didn’t bother to introduce herself as she buzzed with excitement next to the dog.

“Go for it,” Blake smiled and pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, “listen, if you ever want to learn more, I’m part of a service dog support group. Lots of good working dogs, and even more washed-up vets like me.”

Maria took the card in slightly shaking hands, intending to stick it in her own pocket and never look at it again.

“Give me a call if you want to learn anymore,” Blake smiled, “might not seem as impossible to have someone like Molly as you think it is.”

“Thanks,” she nodded and waved her goodbye to them both as they walked further down the aisle.

She expected the Russian to make a joke about how Maria did in fact dog-look without her, but instead, the woman just gave her a soft smile as she walked alongside her. Maria continued to push the cart and think about the man not only as they paid for their groceries, but as she helped Laura with dinner.

“You’re quiet,” the woman pointed out as she used the can opener, “what are you thinking about?”

“I’m… I’m probably not going to get all that much better, Laur,” she flexed her hands under the water as she washed the last cup in the sink.

The water was blessedly warm and just for a moment allowed her right hand to open up fully. She kept her voice low as she spoke, knowing that Clint and Natasha in the living room wouldn’t let her say such things.

But Laura was different, she just cocked her head to the side and stirred the sauce in front of her. She always let Maria, or anyone really, speak their minds before she offered any advice.

“Physical therapy is going well but,” Maria turned off the water and felt her hand once again curled into a fist, “I haven’t made any improvements in the last 6 months. I looked it up and most people online say that this could be me hitting a plateau but some say that it could just be the max of what my body can do now.”

She looked at the jar next to her that she couldn’t open, one that hadn’t even been that tightly screwed on, and sighed.

“And what do your therapists say?” the woman asked just as quietly.

“That it’s too soon to tell, but… but I know my body and I don’t think it’s ever going to be the way it used to be.”

“Ria, they told you that from the beginning,” Laura offered.

She was right the doctors had told her about that, Laura had been present for the conversation, probably more present than Maria given how many painkillers she was on.

“I thought I would get further before I hit this wall,” she waved her left hand dismissively, “I thought I would have something at least close to my old life.”

“You might, this could just be a plateau that you will work through and get closer to getting to that point again,” Laura added fresh basil to the sauce before turning around and giving Maria her undivided attention, “is it really about not being able to open jars?”

Maria stood and looked at the jar once more, then her hand, before shaking her head.

“I know that Tasha’s still turning down missions because she’s scared to leave me in DC alone.”

Laura didn’t deny this, didn’t try to make her feel better, she just nodded, “You’re proud and stubborn, and I don’t think the word ‘assistance’ is in your vocabulary Maria Hill.”

The Commander kept her eyes focused on her hands.

“I think she’s scared that she’s going to go on a mission and come back to… well the worst case scenario for someone who has physical limitations and no intention of asking for help,” the woman took Maria’s scarred hand in her own, “you have to remember, you weren’t the only one who went through something traumatic that day.”

Maria let the hand around her own keep her grounded as she recalled what she had been told. Natasha had seen the video of Maria’s body moments after the bullet hit her and she fell out of the helicopter; she had been one of the first ones to see her both before and after her surgeries. Natasha had thought, multiple times, that her wife would die.

“It’s going to be hard for her not to worry,” the woman ran her thumb down one of the longer scars on Maria’s hand.

“I know.”

“Talk to her.”

The brunette nodded knowing that once again, Laura was right.

She thought about how to say all of this to her own wife, mapping out exactly what to tell her to make Natasha finally return to SHIELD in the way she should. Of course, none of it went to plan and it ended with the same conversation each of these arguments did.

“Then tell me, Tasha,” Maria sighed, “tell me what it would take for you to get back to the way your life used to be.”

“I don’t need to go back to that life,” the Russian shook her head with a sad smile, “I’m happy with where we are.”

There was some truth to it, but she had known her wife for long enough to know it wasn’t the whole story. She missed going on missions that she was part of from the beginning to the end, not the ones she and Clint took now where they handed it over as soon as they got enough intel.

“No bullshit Natasha,” Maria reached out and placed her hand on her wife’s thigh as they sat on the edge of their bed in the guest room, “I know you want to go back into the field, for missions that don’t end in you handing over your work to B rate teams.”

The redhead said nothing as she absentmindedly traced over the dark ink that covered most of her wife's arm. The tattoos were no longer perfect, not much outside Natasha was, and so she pushed and asked again.

“Tasha, tell me, what would it take for you to get back out there?”

Natasha gave her the same look she always did right before she requested the same thing, “you to use the cane and keep your phone on you at every moment of the day.”

“The phone I can do, I can get better about that,” Maria nodded knowing that she would have to break the habit of it staying in her desk drawer or the coffee table for most of the day.

“And the cane, Ria,” Natasha pushed.

The Commander said nothing, they both knew how she felt about the mobility device. She had taken one look at it a few days after she started walking again and focused all of her energy on her lower limb PT for months just so she didn’t have to use it. She hated the sound it made, the way it looked, and more importantly the looks of pity she had when she was forced to use it.

“It would make me feel better, I wouldn’t worry if I knew you were using it, and if anything happened you would be able to call someone for help,” her wife spoke softly, “without those two things, I need to physically see for myself that you’re okay every day.”

“Then I’ll send you a picture or… or…” the brunette shook her head.

“You know I can’t look at my phone when I’m in the field most of the time.”

“The cane isn’t magic, it’s not going to guarantee that I don’t fall,” Maria dug her heels in.

“Those two things are the only way I’ll get any piece of mind when I’m gone,” Natasha said firmly in her own position, “I could be gone for days, and if you fell and couldn’t get back up?”

Maria knew where this conversation was headed, knew that if they discussed it any more Natasha would talk herself out of ever going on a mission again.

So blue eyes closed for a second as Maria nodded, “I’ll keep thinking about it. I’m going to go get some water.”

Slowly, she exited the room and made her way into the kitchen. She grabbed a plastic cup she was positive she couldn’t break if her hand spasmed and filled it with water. The moon was high in the sky, covering every surface in a cool blue hue as she thought about what her wife was requesting.

She was being selfish by refusing the cane, it was one small thing for her to change so that Natasha could get back to a little more normality in her life. It needed to be done, she needed to just get over herself and suck it up and do it. Over and over again she told herself that and over and over again she tried to push the pit in her stomach away at the thought of how everyone would stare at her, see her as weak.

But she loved her wife, loved her enough to do this for her so they could go on living the lives they had always dreamed of. Maria closed her eyes and thought about the life they had pictured, her and Natasha, maybe a kid or two, definitely a dog-

Her mind slowed as she thought about the dog she had seen earlier that day, the one that had helped the man with his everyday life. She shook her head, it wasn’t the same and she would just be trading one reason for stares for another. But it would be different, it would be…

Maria shook her head once more, squared her shoulders, and decided she would tell her wife that she was willing to use the cane, there wasn’t another option. She turned and went to leave the kitchen but stopped as she took in the faded photograph that was in front of her.

There in the top left corner of the fridge, was one of Maria’s favorite photos of all time, the same one that adorned their own refrigerator at home. A gap-toothed blonde girl and a redhead trying to hide her smile in front of a sign that read “Tiboldt’s Circus”. It was an innocent enough picture, but a closer look revealed a boy in the background getting ready to perform, a bow strapped across his back as he talked to an older blonde teenager.

Maria Hill didn’t believe in coincidences; for her, everything in life happened for a reason. Including the accident, including her journey to SHIELD, and including the two kids in Ohio who met years before they would end up saving each other in their own ways.

It took her two tries to pull the business card out of her pocket, her fingers not cooperating in the way she wanted them to, and leaving it on the kitchen table. Tomorrow morning she would call the gentleman, tomorrow morning she would see if maybe there was another option out there. Maybe one that would save her in its own way.

#blackhill #maria hill #marvel #natasha romanoff #clint barton #laura barton #barton farm #dogs mentioned #tattooed Maria Hill

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eldritch-araneae · 2 years ago

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Sparkpulse XI: Vague Hope

Summary: Bumblebee is feeling ill. Nothing extraordinary, just another flare produced by his malfunctioning spark. He tries his best to focus on things that matter, but after recent events, the dread lurks in the back of his mind.

Content warning for self-harm!

Bumblebee wakes up from a dreamless sleep. With optics closed, he lies motionless in the bed. The pain in his chest is wailing, getting stronger with each passing second. He groans and tries to fall back to sleep, but after several minutes he accepts that the rest won't come.

He sighs, he hates it so much. Not only he has to endure the pain that doesn't fully go away after painkillers, but this condition makes him mentally unstable. He feels like the entire world is crushing down on him and there is no escape. Knowing that the AllSpark is missing and Vector Sigma is damaged makes it worse. Doubt sitting in the back of his mind, and he needs a distraction.

The minibot slowly sits up and inspects the room. Windblade is nowhere to be seen. Where did she go? Is she on a mission? Or somewhere in Stronghold? He hopes she's not working herself to struts looking for the information they need to solve this mystery with their memories.

Bumblebee wants to help. It's about him in the end and it feels unfair to just let his amica do all this work alone. Although, if he told her this, she would diffidently insist that he should just rest while he's sick. And she would be right! Yet, Bumblebee's inner voice urges him to act regardless and he will obey. Just carefully without aggravating his condition. The last thing he wants is Ratchet scolding him over self-neglect.

What he should do? Go out and find Windblade? Or he could chill in the bean bag chair and look for the information in Optimus' archives? The moment he thought about the latter, his chest gave him an uncomfortable squeeze.

Alright, no reading today, finding Windblade it is. Which is good since he's getting sick just from spending a week in the same room without going out. The minibot pulls his cane out of his subspace compartment to keep his balance and carefully walks out. He doesn't make it far before he hears voices. He senses Mirage and Cliffjumper, both not being too happy hearing each other.

"So, are you gonna admit you're conspiring with this yellow bug against us?" Cliffjumper asked in a nasty tone. Bumblebee rolls his optics and quietly moves to the edge of the corner to stay out of sight, but still close enough to interfere. Mirage only sighs in reply, knowing it's no use to reason with the red minibot when his paranoia skyrockets.

"Don't give me a silent treatment! This is a security breach! We have too many enemies among us and it's only a matter of time before they gonna execute their plan to strike us down! What will you even gain from this?!" Cliffjumper flails, trying to show the dangerous scenario he's describing.

"You're so annoying," Mirage says in the most chill voice in existence as he leans onto the wall behind him and crosses his arms.

"Why you--" Cliffjumper was about to jump onto the spy with his fists, only to be interrupted by Bumblebee walking out from the corner. Startled, he lets out an ungodly shriek.

"Leave him alone!" Bumblebee wastes no time and whacks Cliffjumper with his cane multiple times, not giving him a single chance to retaliate. "Shoo!"

Cliffjumper gives up and retreats, giving the yellow minibot a death glare over his shoulder. Bumblebee growls before he turns around to check on his taller comrade.

"Thanks." Mirage relaxes and lets out a sigh of relief. "He's been hovering near me for an hour and was getting really on my nerves."

"No problem!" Bumblebee smiles widely, feeling happy for being useful. "Sorry you had to deal with him."

"You know, sometimes I really bothered how black and white his thinking is. This will backfire sooner or later." Mirage rubs the side of his head, trying to soothe the headache Cliffjumper gave him. "On the other hand, maybe this is what he needs to learn."

"Yeah. He hangs out with Sunstreaker simply because he doesn't like me anymore. This can't end well. But it's not my business." Bumblebee huffs and then sighs in defeat. "I still don't understand why me."

"Who knows? Sunstreaker was always jealous of everyone for reasons he never disclosed. And Cliffjumper is paranoid and afraid of change." Mirage shrugs. "Perhaps this is why. You came and set stagnant things into motion. Changes are coming rapidly and not everyone is ready."

Bumblebee frowns, he never considered this. To him, change was always necessary. It's the force that drives progress and evolution. Nothing ever stays static. Even if everything will stop, the arrow of time will push everything forward with the speed of light. But there is nothing he can do about the situation. It's better to change the subject.

"So, are you going to the cafeteria?" He asks.

"Yeah." Mirage nods. "Wanna come with me?"

Bumblebee nods and both start walking. They didn't exchange a word, but he knows Mirage appreciates his company. At least he thinks so since it has always been the case. Although, he notices some recent changes in Mirage's spark that made him worry about the spy.

"How are you feeling?" He asks right away.

"Hm? I'm okay I think." Mirage looks at the minibot in confusion. People rarely ask how he's doing, knowing he doesn't like small talk. "Why?"

"Well..." Bumblebee trails off, knowing this going to sound weird. "I'm just checking on you. Your feelings are more distant than usual."

"What do you mean?" He tilts his head, eying the minibot curiously.

"You look confused, yet your spark gives off nothing. Like it's completely drowned in apathy."

"Oh, strange..." Mirage raises his optic ridge." I don't feel that different for the last few millenniums. I don't really feel emotions that much in general."

"I just used to pick them up when I first came here. Sure, they weren't as intense, as Prowl's for example, but still!"

"Wait, Prowl feels? I thought she's kinda like me, no?" Mirage's optics widen from this revelation.

"You have no idea." Bumblebee giggles, finding the spy's reaction amusing." She may often come off as flat or uncaring, but she actually feels a lot of them. I guess, she's more like me."

"Oh, my stars!" Mirage exclaims and this time Bumblebee feels a little spark of surprise. "I don't know what to think. This is new and completely changes how I see Prowl."

"She cares a lot; I can vouch for this." The minibot smiles. "We all just wired differently."

"Can't argue with that." The spy smiles back. Life keeps giving him surprises even now.

"So, yeah. Just know, that maybe you falling into apathy too much and --" before Bumblebee could finish, his balance was completely thrown off and he would fall if not for Mirage catching him.

"Careful." Mirage holds the minibot still. "Are you sure it's okay for you to be out of bed?"

"Uh." Bumblebee waits for a few seconds for his vision to clear and for balance to return. "Maybe not, but I'm tired of laying all day long. Thanks for catching me."

"Understandable." Mirage nods and offers the minibot his arm to hold onto. Bumblebee thanks his friend and slips his hand into the loop. "I will talk to Lifeline later when I'll get time."

Bumblebee nods, feeling relieved.

-------

The cafeteria is half-empty. It's nighttime, so most diurnal mechs already went to sleep. Mirage makes sure that Bumblebee stands firm on his feet before going to the counter for some energon.

Bumblebee's optics quickly skims through the current occupants in hopes to find his amica, but unfortunately, she is not there. He was about to continue his search until his optics landed Clobber, sitting alone in the corner. Her optic is deeply focused on her big datapad, her left hand holds a stylus and moves gracefully across the screen. Lockdown once mentioned that she's a great artist!

Before he could stop his rising curiosity, he walked up to her. "Hey."

"Ah!" Clobber jolts in her seat. Seeing it's just him, she relaxes. "Oh, hi Shad--, I mean, Bumblebee. Good to see you again!"

"I'm sorry for startling you!" he quickly apologizes, realizing he's being rude right now.

"That's okay, I need a break anyway." She waves it off with a smile.

Bumblebee peeks into her datapad screen and sees a beautiful painting. The main colors are blue, pink, and purple, with colorful accents in many places. It depicts the scenery of a forest. Tall trees stretch so far into the sky that no sunlight reaches the ground. Animals are blending together with the environment, giving a viewer a surprise once their optics catch them. The painting is full of life and wonder.

"The Nigthsong Forest!" the minibot recognizes the place immediately.

Clobber blinks at him in surprise. "I saw this forest in my dream and struck me so much I wanted to paint it. Are you saying it was real?"

"Yes! It was one of the most beautiful and dangerous places on Cybertron. With an absolutely unique ecosystem, you wouldn't see anywhere else! And I can name every flora and fauna on your painting." He says with excitement gleaming in his optics. "I wonder how you know about it. The forest, along with many ecosystems, was gone once Quintessons took over. "

"That's the interesting part - I dreamed about it after your visit! "

"After my visit?"

"Yes. The next night, I was seeing many natural sceneries I had never seen before. And there is also a creature, watching me intently." She points at the shadow on the painting, standing behind tees and emitting a soft blue light from its optics.

"Woah!" Bumblebee exclaims as he didn't notice it on the painting. The animal is huge yet it blends among gigantic trees perfectly. It definitely belongs in the ecosystem, but for some reason, he doesn't recognize it unlike the rest of depicted animals. "Was it threatening or hunting you?"

"No. Despite its scary aura, it felt benevolent. It would stare at me for a bit, then vanish into the woods without a trace."

"That's so interesting! I wonder what it means... Anyway, your painting is beautiful! You captured the forest like it used to be perfect!"

"Thank you. " Clobber smiles widely. "Wanna see my other paintings?"

"Yes!" he sits closer and they spend a while looking through Clobber's gallery. Bumblebee complement each of them, being amazed at how people can capture their visions and dreams, then translate them into the canvas for everyone to see. He admires her skill, he knows she spent countless years honing her craft.

"You know, I shall do some new studies. It's been a while since I painted other cybertronians. How do you feel about being a model?" Clobber says, growing more amused as she observes Bumblebee's reaction.

"Me?!" the minibot almost jumps in his seat. The pink blushing is visible on his cheeks. "I don't know. I mean I could, I guess. I'm just not photogenic..."

"There is no such thing as photogenic! Everyone is beautiful in their own way."

"Well... In this case, paint me like one of your vosian mechs!"

Clobber explodes in laughter, understanding the reference from an old cybertronian movie. They hung out together a bit more before Bumblebee stood up and continued his search for Windblade. Perhaps he should look outside.

-------

Slipstream sits on the ledge above the entrance to the Stronghold. Bumblebee sensed a lot of sadness coming from her spark, so he decided to check on her. She's been like this since she joined them. He hopes it's not because of distrust or conflict coming from the Autobots. He rather takes it himself than let other people deal with it.

The minibot carefully climbs up, trying to not jolt himself and cause more pain. She looks to the side and silently greets him.

"How are you?" He carefully asks and sits by her side. "Is someone bothering you?"

"No, everyone has been nice so far." She shakes her head before she turns to face him. "Except, maybe, the short red one. He always stares at me."

"Ah, that's Cliffjumper." Bumblebee snorts, he is not surprised at all. "Don't mind him, he never trusts anyone. Many of us think he's a direct reincarnation of Red Alert!"

"I can see why." She laughs softly and her mood improved just a little bit. Bumblebee considers it a win.

They sit in silence for a bit, looking into the distance until Slipstream breaks the silence. "I want to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"So... you and Windblade... are bonded?" She asks timidly.

"Yep."

"...Conjux?" She shifts nervously as she continues.

"Nope, Amica."

"Ah! I...see." She quickly trails off. Bumblebee can see her brushing and it didn't take long to realize why.

"Let me guess: you wanted romantic advice! " A smile forms on his face as he leans toward her.

"Shush!" She glares at him. He can't help it, but his smile gets only wider.

"Is this about a certain pink opera singer?" he sing-songs and moves even closer. It's hard to miss when Slipstream's spark swells with emotions every time Arcee is in close vicinity.

"One more word and I'll punt you to the center of the galaxy!" Slipstream accurately points into the sky.

"Just the center of the galaxy? Why not further?" Bumblebee bursts into laughter. Slipstream stares at him for a second before making a motion like she's about to grab the minibot and shake him. The bluff was enough to make him squeak and hide behind his cane. Seeing he was safe, he giggle more, making her facepalm.

"Listen, I know nothing of romance, but I think you should just invite Arcee and see where it goes." He says after his giggles subside. " She loves handing out with people. Especially, with new people!"

"We kinda know each other..." She mutters.

"Oh?! You two have a history? Tell me more!"

"Not exactly." She pulls her datapad and opens a picture showing a huge group of people, standing in rows and smiling at the camera. They hold musical instruments. He spots Slipstream sitting in the second row and holding a violin. "This is the orchestra I used to be part of. We played for many plays, and Arcee would often be in the main role. And she would often come down to us and hang around as she sang. I guess I was her favorite..."

Bumblebee inspects carefully each member. He's not recognizing anyone among the living except Slisptream. His expression saddened, feeling terrible for the violet seeker.

"You know, I really miss playing music."

"You can always pick it back up. There is a music room in Stronghold and many bots hang out there. I'm sure you'll fit!"

"I don't know. It's been a while and I'm not sure if I can. It feels like this side of me died long ago."

"I'm sorry. It must hurt a lot." Bumblebee pauses, choosing words carefully. He wants to help, but he also respects her feelings. "But just know - you're still alive."

Slipstream stares at him. She opens her mouth but immediately closes it. He senses a lot of confusion, but her mind is too occupied with his words. He hopes they will be enough.

-------

After Slipstream left, Bumblebee sat on his spot for a while. That conversation served as a grim reminder that they're far from being safe and now so many many things are uncertain.

What are gonna do now without the AllSpark? While he knows Optimus Prime is organizing the search, the hope is feeble. Even if Decepticons are potentially hiding it, it's useless without the Vector Sigma. Which is it's broken and Wheeljack is not sure he can fix it without crucial components. No one has ever done maintenance to this thing that existed since the dawn of their history!

Are cybertronians doomed to go extinct? Is this how the entire sentient species will be gone? With all history and culture going down into oblivion along with them? And they didn't make any contact with potential aliens out there!

"We will be gone and no one will remember us..." Bumblebee whispers is horror. Despite amnesia, he knows what it's like. His spark wails in pain, forcing him to curl up. This is absolutely terrifying and panic-inducing, making him doubt if his insistence on leaving will do any good, but delay the inevitable. Maybe accepting their fate would be a mercy. Bumblebee feels useless and guilty for not doing what he promised to do. He cries quietly as his mind spiral into despair.

He doesn't want to accept this, but is there anything he can do? The spark of hope is still in him, but it's growing weaker. When he woke up for the "first" time, he knew he had a mission, a purpose. He was supposed to save what remains of cybertronians and get out of this planet!

Frigid tears are rolling down his face. There are so many of them they have no time to evaporate. Bumblebee bites his hand to stifle his sobs, but it's hard to silence the enormous pain erupting from his chest. He doesn't know long he was crying until a pair of gentle hands touch his shoulders. He looks up, but his vision is compromised due to tears frosting over his optics. Then a hand moves from his shoulder and takes his injured palm.

"Bumblebee." He hears Windblade's voice, bringing him a bit of comfort. She wraps her other arm around him while holding his hand tight and close to her chest. He leans into her touch.

"I'm so sorry, Windy... " he wails weakly before a wave of anger surges through his spark. "I'm so sorry. I failed you! I failed everyone!"

"Why?" she asks with sadness in her voice. It pains her to see him like this.

"I wa--wasted time!" Bumblebee choked as more tears rolls down. "I should have been more insistent and direct, instead of playing games and trying to be smart! If I was faster, the AllSpark and Vector Sigma would be ours and we could just leave this place and rebuild elsewhere. But now it's too late!"

"Bee, we're still alive and can leave!"

"We will be gone and it's all MY fault! What leaving will ever give us if we all cease regardless!" he claws at his face with a free hand. He wants so badly to mutilate his face, to rip off his horns, to break his body.

"Stop!" Windblade lets go of his injured hands to grab the other one, then hugs him tightly, giving him no room for movement. He tries to push away, but his amica has an iron grip on him. He gives up, only crying into her shoulder.

Windblade holds him tight and gently, idly caressing the back of his head for a while. Seeing him slowly calming down, she lifts his face to look at her. Bumblebee blinks several times to get rid of the frosting to see her clearly.

"Listen, even if we are going to be extinct, we're still alive right now. Leaving this planet will give us a chance to live normal lives so our last moments wouldn't be filled with fear and despair. And I think it's absolutely worth it." Windblade says softly.

"But if I was faster..." he trails off.

"We don't know that. There is no evidence proving otherwise and if someone has to be responsible for the AllSpark disappearance and broken state of Vector Sigma - is gonna be Megatron. It was under his control and he was supposed to guard it."

Bumblebee opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. He knows she's right, but the guilt is not letting go. He stares at her in disbelief.

"You can't be responsible for things outside of your control."

Bumblebee exhales and gives her a small nod. It's hard for him to accept, but she doesn't want him to suffer. If he can't be kinder to himself for his own sake, he can at least try to do it for her. Windblade smiles and boops his forehead with hers, making him giggle. A small victory, but an important one.

"Wanna stargaze with me? There are no moons today and stars are very bright." She relaxes and looks up, feeling Bumblebee snuggling comfortably against her.

"Yeah..." he looks up, noting that the stars are indeed bright. His amica's warmth and the beautiful sky right above them are enough to ground him. "I wonder which one will become our new home?"

"I'm excited to find out!" she says. "I was thinking about it all day as I was scouting in the east."

"Oh, that's where you went." He nods. "I was looking for you."

"Ah... I should have left you a note. Will do it next time when Jazz will send me somewhere."

"So are you the official member of SpecialOps? Because I think Jazz should write you in after all those scouting missions!"

"Maybe I should ask them about it." She laughs. "Who would have thought that to become a member of a secret spy group you just need to be friends with one of them."

"The best methods are always in plain sight!"

"In this case maybe it's good I'm not on the list. I'm not just a secret agent, I'm the secret - secret agent. They would never see me coming~!"

Bumblebee burst into laughs, quickly followed by Windblade. Then a familiar chirping draws their attention. They see Cheetor in their alt-mode, Nightstalker and Steeljaw are climbing up to them.

"Bee, there you are! We were looking for you everywhere. Also, hi Windy!" the spotted beastformer says. "Heard you're still in pain so I figured I could help you out."

"Hey guys!" both Windblade and Bumblebee greet the felines at the same time. Then the minibot speaks first. "Cheetor and Steeljaw, why are you up? It's the middle of the night."

"I don't know. I tried to fall asleep and got bored. I thought I could sleep in another place." Steeljaw shrugs.

"Kinda the same, had another battlefield dream and decided that tonight I will cuddle with someone!" Cheetor laughs awkwardly.

"That's understandable, war related reams are never pleasant." Windblade moves to the side with Bumblebee to make more room for their friends to join.

"Plus, Nightstalker is kinda down today so I roped them into this as well." Cheetor sing songs as they gently pat the black feline with their tail.

"Hey! I'm not down, I'm just moody!" Nightstalker complains with a huff. The yellow minibot feels melancholy coming from them. Like sadness and aching together, mixed with worry. He frowns but doesn't say anything yet.

Steeljaw settles on Windblade's lap, while Cheetor lays around them, placing their head onto Bumblebee's lap. Nightstalker ended up sandwiched between everyone in the center. The comfort of the cuddle pile spread immediately in the group. Content, the yellow minibot lets out a series of low rumbles, almost sounding like he's purring.

"You did it Cheetor!" Windblade snorts. "Bumblebee now is a certified feline. Good job!"

"I did my best, thank you Windblade," Cheetor says with pride, before turning the black cassette. "So, Nighty, are you gonna talk about your feeeeeelings?"

"Pfff, why? It's nothing really." Nightstalker waves their paw. "Just thinking of Ravage again, I wonder how he's doing."

"Hmm...do you think he'd be nice to you since he's with 'cons now?" Steeljaw is being a bit skeptical as usual but in a good way.

"Don't worry about it," Nightstalker replies but seeing all eyes on them now waiting for elaboration they added. "We usually meet during battles and just make it look like we fighting."

"Wait, really?" Steeljaw tilts her head. "Your fights are intense!"

"That's how we play. We have always been more of the rough side since we've been with our original cassette carrier." They look into the distance as if they try to see their sibling in the shadows. "But I haven't seen Ravage in a while now, which makes me worried. Last time we talked, he complained about Soundwave growing distance from his cassettes..."

"So... you and Ravage went separate ways accidentally?" Bumblebee frowns.

"Sort of. We got separated during Trypticon's rampage after our carrier died. We didn't see each for thousands of years and when we did, turned out we ended up on the opposite sides."

"Why did Ravage never join you after then?" Steeljaw is confused." Or, I guess, you didn't join them?"

"The answer is really simple. We bonded without new carriers and new cassettes. He and I formed new relationships since we both assumed that the other has perished. So, our relationship got... complicated. But none of us wants to burn bridges."

"I see... I hope you can solve it." Cheetor says before they decided to switch the subject to lighten the mood. "You know, I always been curious how cassettes are always in need of carriers and vice versa."

"Yeah, I wonder about it too. In most cases, cassettes are different species from carriers, yet we depend on each other." The black feline smiles.

"Different species?" Windblade asks as her curiosity rises. "I thought you all like us, no?"

"Ah yes, wonders of cybertronian taxonomy." Bumblebee laughs, his optics sparkle with excitement once again. "But yeah, most cassettes are different species from us. People usually don't know that because they see someone like Eject or Rewind and how all cassettes have the same alt-mode, assuming the rest are like them. But the relation to a species depends on your root-mode, regardless of your alt-mode."

"So, Eject and Rewind are in the same species as me and you, then Nightstalker and Steeljaw are not?" Cheetor sounds surprised as it never occurred to them.

"Yep, in fact, they are different species from each other, while sharing the same genius and family."

"So, am I not in the same family as them?"

"Correct, but you will be considered a feline because your second nature is granted by your frametype and alt-mode."

"I see!" they exclaim, excited to learn something new. "But we still count you one of us as well."

"I guess you will be right since mirroring is a thing too." Bumblebee giggles from amusement. He doesn't mind at all.

"It's amazing how much you know about biology, Bee! I'm surprised how you're not in Science Department. By the way, are cityformers different species from us?" Nightstalker asks out of curiosity.

"They are, that's why we can eat them without getting sick. Though we usually just give their plating to Botanica's plants first. And then eat fruits they produce."

"That's good, otherwise my jaw will break just from attempting to chew the plating," Windblade says as she remembers how she found out that non-beastformer cybertronians have weak teeth. In a hard way. "Huh, I never released it before, but now it makes sense why are stockpiling out mechon resources from the dead cityformers."

"Especially since we are leaving." Steeljaw nods. "It's better that way than just letting the corpses rust. The entire recycling system has been broken for a long time.

"Ugh, yeah." Nightstalker huffs. "I can only imagine the core is now just filled with countless unrecycled bodies. No wonder we have no resources to make new people."

"And those little things are consuming them and multiplying like the plague." Bumblebee mutters, then suddenly a sharp migraine pierced his processor.

"Bee, what's wrong?" the three exclaimed, startled by his sudden gasp. After a few seconds, the pain faded and Bumblebee looks around confused.

"Okay, what we were talking about just now?" He asks, in confusion while still holding his head in his hands.

"No, that happened again! Are you okay right now?" Windblade asks, her amica nods.

"Does this happen a lot? That sounds rough." Steeljaw looks worried.

"We talked about gathering resources from dead cityformers, do you remember this?" Nightstalker reminds him.

"Yes, I think." Bumblebee let go of his head. "I'm okay right now. Did I said anything?"

"You mention some things eating something, but I couldn't hear it well. "Windblade says. "Speaking of things, I heard those dead cybertronians we saw at the Spire are lurking near cityformers."

"What?!" Bumblebee growls, feeling like he's about to fight something. "This can't be good. Shockwave is planning something!"

"Yes, but we don't have enough information for now, but the situation is being observed by us and Blaster," Nightstalker says. "For now, it's best for you to focus on recovery."

"Agree. If we see more, we'll let you know. Worrying is the last thing you need right now." Steeljaw nods.

"That's right! Let us hug you!" Cheetor throws their paws around the minibot, and others follow them quickly. Bumblebee smiles widely as he returned the hugs as much as he could.

Windblade is right, even if they go extinct, the fact they are still alive here and now is what truly matters. They deserve to have fulfilling lives, no matter what kind of end they'll meet. The vague hope in his spark is growing stronger, reigniting his determination to finish what he started.

------

Hey, I’m back to updating Sparkpulse! I was tough! I caught a lot of burnout after the Big Bang event, so writing took a while. But now It’s finished! I hope you’re enjoyed it~ Reblogs and comments are appreciated! <3

#maccadam #transformers #sparkpulse au #bumblebee #windblade #clobber #cheetor #steeljaw #nightstalker #slipstream #mirage #my art #my fanfics

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hmshermitcraft · 1 year ago

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!Follow up the four winged false thing!

It’s been a few months now since False had started keeping her wings out and it still feels weird. Because it turns out due to so much none usage the muscles in them aren’t strong enough yet to fly safely but Scar the persistent vex he is shows her ways of still getting used to her wings and even shows her some neat tricks with them. The last thing she expected him to tell her was her wings as massive as they are are perfect blankets which she’s very grateful to learn after way too many sweltering nights. But they keep a close eye on her make sure relapses don’t occur and making sure she’s taking proper care of them.

Scar is ecstatic! False has been making such good progress sure she’s still bummed she’s not given the go ahead to fly but he’s made sure Grian shows her some tricks to get her wings stronger by the day and he makes sure he’s there whenever Stress and Doc are giving her checkups and they learned her wings aren’t even full sized! That really threw everyone for a loop considering false already has the largest wingspan of the server with Grian not even coming close as a runner up. Now Scar realizes this is a still a scary experience for false like she shy’s away from talking to the other hermit’s because of old habits but he’s proud she’s making progress nonetheless!

And when a few weeks pass after they learned about the wing size thing they weren’t lying her wings went from massive to GINORMOUS! She can pretty much fully cocoon herself in her wings now as a super huge cloak if she wanted and she’s super soft and warm which makes the other hermits almost squeal in cuteness from the one time they caught False napping in a tree using her wings as large blankets nibbling a loose feather in her sleep-yes Stress they remembered to take pictures-but part of False still felt…odd about it all she went from being a complete outcast to suddenly loved and appreciated in such little time it makes her feel…warm and fuzzy in a way she can’t describe.

Sure there’s Scar who helped start her rehabilitation and makes it a daily routine to check in on her whenever possible. Then you have Stress who helps preen her wings and gives her the cutest compliments on them and her muscles-she’s not blushing shut up!-she has from supporting their weight. Then you have Doc who’s always willing to throw down with her whenever she gets the itch to fight something and turns out talons are very effective in fighting then she originally thought who needs swords and axes when you can rip through solid metal with your own two hands and feet! And it’s not like she likes em or anything it’s just they make her feel special and warm and…fuck she has a crush on them.

Rando anon

first part

They've all been so hands on in getting her comfortable and adjusted. It turns out there's even furniture that's designed to accommodate wings - something she wouldn't even have considered where she grew up.

She didn't realise how many of the aches and pains across her body were related to improper care of her wings. The pain in her shoulders, back and neck has cleared up. Her posture is better, as well as her balance. Scar is so proud when she returns the cane she borrowed from him (even though False tells him he doesn't need to be...)

The thing is, they don't treat her like she's special because of her wings. That would be overwhelming, especially with so much to unlearn. They treat her like she's special because she's False and her wings are part of that! The same way they love every part of every hermit - it's what makes them unique.

Maybe, making a move and showing her thanks could be combined somehow. That would be nice. If she ever plucks up the courage...

#hermitshipping #ask #false tag #scar tag #docm77 tag #grian tag #stressmonster tag #polyhermits #rando anon #mod 🎀

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florallcrd · 3 months ago

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there's so much i wish i was able to tell you. ❜

@winterreigned

Lady Stark's wit and ability to mask herself had surprised him. Of course Willas has believed every word Margaery had wrote in her letters about the tragic girl she had met in King's Landing, but meeting her firsthand and getting to know her was another situation entirely. She wasn't unlike a sponge, soaking anything she heard and filing it away behind a steel mask she had formed around herself. He could almost tell she took everything he said and warped the words into armor for herself and the fact alone was saddening, though he couldn't blame her for the defenses she built.

Over the course of the year he had made great strides to allow herself to feel more comfortable in Highgarden, away from his grandmother's admitted meddling, he took it upon himself to attempt to make her feel at home. More often than not he thought he failed, and yet he was never too far off from offering an arm as he walked beside her, cane balancing them both on a merry stroll.

And now within these gardens with their high walls she was finally almost opening up to him and as he hung onto every word, all he could do was nod, keeping a respectful distance from her, accepting the metaphorical olive branch as it was. " I would like nothing more for you to open up to me, Sansa, but I understand if you cannot. "

Shifting his weight against his cane he makes a show of locking eye contact with her, he didn't need there to be any risk of her seeing his words as anything but from the heart. " I've no idea how many times your trust has been broken while in King's Landing, and even though we've known one another for all this time I am still a stranger overall, a man from a different house with a family who have their own goals. I will never push you to say anything you don't wish, but I need you to know I'm an excellent listener, should you ever find that you can trust me, do not hesitate. I'll listen to whatever it is you need to say. No one will hear a word, not even Margaery or my grandmother. It'll just be us. "

#A MAN!!!#idk what the lore is here but au where she does get to go to highgarden?? idk #winterreigned

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year ago

Text

Golden Era

A prompt for you if you don't mind. Golden Era Merlin fic. Merlin is 30(ish) now but he's been through a lot and he didn't stop trying to do things even when he was healing from injuries. So he gets a staff and uses it as a walking stick. People notice that he stops limping on bad days. He has to explain to people that just because he stopped limping doesn't mean he can stop using the stick, that the stick is the reason he stopped limping. He's irritated by the people who are rude about him using a mobility aid when he's so young (council members and visiting nobles and knights who aren't usually in Camelot). His friends have got his back though. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: random ableism from dicks who get put in their places

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2316

Because even at the height of Camelot's golden age, there will be pricks.

"Oh, here," one of the servants says to him as he approaches the kitchen door, platter for Arthur balanced on one hand, "let me hold that for you."

Merlin goes to offer her the tray, pausing when she instead reaches for his cane. "Er, what are you doing?"

"The walking stick, let me hold it while you carry that up. I'm happy to follow!"

"Why would you hold my walking stick?"

The servant tilts her head to the side. "Would it not be easier to carry the platter with both hands?"

"Yes, but it would be easier to walk with my walking stick."

He can see the moment that realization dawns on her face and mortification quickly follows. She scrambles and stutters her way through an apology, complete with a fumbling bow. "Forgive me, My Lord, please, I—I meant no offense, I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright," Merlin says, seeing how earnest she is and indeed, how unintentional her hurt was, "it is forgotten."

"Of course, My Lord, let me get the door for you?"

"That would be most helpful, thank you—what was your name?"

"Sigyn, My Lord."

"Thank you, Sigyn." She holds the door as he makes it through, platter balanced expertly on one hand. "If you would accompany me to the King's chambers, I could use some help with that door as well?"

"Certainly, My Lord." She follows behind him, her hands folded behind her back. He can see her shooting glances at his walking stick out of the corner of her eye but she's much better at decorum than he was, so she keeps any questions to herself. She opens the door to Arthur's chambers after a swift knock. "Anything else, My Lord?"

"No, that will be all, thank you Sigyn."

She bobbles a curtsy and turns back down the stairs. Merlin shakes his head as he sets Arthur's breakfast down on the table. Arthur glances up with a frown.

"Something wrong?"

"No, no, nothing at all."

He's walking past the training grounds when a blur of movement comes hurtling toward him and he has just enough time to step back before a practice lance whistles past him.

"Sorry! Sorry, M'Lord," one of the squires—probably the one who let go of the lance too early—says in a rush, stumbling past him, "I didn't see you there, it was an accident!"

"No harm done—your name?"

"Malachi, M'Lord."

"No harm done, Malachi, just be sure to keep a grip on that thing, mm?"

"Yes, M'Lord, I will, I—oh." Malachi looks down to see he's picked up Merlin's walking stick instead of the javelin. "Sorry, M'Lord, I don't know who left this lying around."

"Ah," Merlin says quickly when the squire turns to holler at the rest of them, "that's mine."

"Yours, M'Lord?"

"Yes."

"Are you injured in some way, M'Lord?"

Merlin chuckles ruefully. "Truly, where aren't I injured, I'm afraid, Malachi. Perils of the job. You understand."

Malachi laughs too, but more out of politeness and the air of someone who isn't quite sure what the joke is. "Perhaps you should—I don't mean to pry, M'Lord, but perhaps you should be with the physician still?"

"Oh, no, I'm never going back there if I can help it." He waggles his fingers. "If you just give me back my walking stick, I'll be good to go."

The squire doesn't outright refuse, but Merlin has to put a bit more steel into the following now, please, and even then he looks reluctant to let him go. It takes Gwaine's stern barking order to get the squire scampering back to the training field. Gwaine shoots him a look, one that's clearly a thinly veiled am I to trounce this prat thoroughly that he's seen so many times with Arthur. Merlin just shakes his head and motions for them to continue.

I'll be by later, he sees Gwaine mouth and he smiles.

The walking stick clatters to the floor.

Merlin raises an eyebrow and turns his gaze on the three children who peer out from behind the corner of a shop, one with a twig clutched in hand.

"Why did you do that?"

"Sorry, Court Sorcerer, we didn't mean to."

"That twig doesn't look like it'd be good for much else and you were very deliberate in how you swung it," he says, not unkindly, "so, why did you do that?"

They mutter amongst themselves for a moment before the one with the twig shoves another. They stifle a wince and look up at Merlin. "It's a joke from a story, Court Sorcerer. You knock away a walking stick and someone falls over."

Merlin tilts his head. "That doesn't seem like a very funny joke to me. Does it sound like it would be funny if someone tripped you?"

"No, Court Sorcerer."

"What's going on?" Leon, ever the embodiment of patience, comes over in his billowing red cape and all the children immediately stare up at him in awe. Merlin feels some level of offense that he isn't regarded with such awe, no, he gets his walking stick knocked out of his hands, but the rest of him is just happy Leon's here. "Merlin?"

"My walking stick was knocked over as a joke and these three are kindly explaining to me why it is funny."

Leon frowns. "That doesn't sound very funny to me."

"It isn't," the other one without the twig says quickly, "sorry, M'Lord. Sorry, Court Sorcerer."

Leon kneels down. "Let's not do that again, alright? It would be unfortunate if someone got hurt when you were only trying to make a joke."

The other two nod furiously but the one with the twig points at Merlin. "But he isn't old. And he isn't hurt. Why does he need a walking stick?"

"I need a walking stick so that I don't get hurt," Merlin explains as he picks it up, "just like you wear good shoes so your feet don't get hurt."

The child looks down at the twig and throws it away. Leon nods approvingly. "Now, why don't you three run along while I help our friend back to the citadel?"

They nod and scamper off. Leon watches them go before he stands up, coming to stand at Merlin's side. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Leon. Let's go."

The visiting noble takes one look at him and scoffs. "You know, if you wanted to have a Court Sorcerer, you could have one without the pomp and circumstance."

Arthur turns his head in that slow way where really he's giving the person a chance to take back their words. "Excuse me?"

The noble, deep in his cups already, gestures sloppily at Merlin. "The staff really isn't necessary. You could just dress him up if you wanted something to look at."

Merlin's grip on his walking stick tenses slightly. Arthur looks as if he's about to order the noble to be dragged off to the dungeons already when Lancelot speaks up.

"I am glad your injuries have not prevented you from joining us this evening, though if you request things brought to you, I assure you no one here will begrudge you them."

The noble squints at him. "What are you on about? Had too much to drink, have you?"

No, but clearly you have, Lancelot's face says before he smooths it into a diplomatic smile. "Your glasses, My Lord, I couldn't help but notice them. I can assure you that no one in Camelot will think poorly of you because of your eyesight."

The noble paws at his face as though remembering he wears glasses. After he finds them—which takes much longer than it should—he takes them off, squinting at them, before narrowing his eyes up at Lancelot. "Now you listen here. I can see perfectly well with these, I don't need any of your so-called generosity."

"Of course," Lancelot demurs instantly, inclining his head, "it is reasonable for us to presume that you have equipped yourself so that you may carry out your duties and wishes without interruption."

"R-right," the noble stammers, clearly caught off guard.

"After all, is that not the mark of a fine man who knows himself?" Lancelot reaches for a goblet. "To be able to understand precisely what it is he might need, and to know his circumstances so intimately that he may find it?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

"Then to you, My Lord," and Lancelot looks over at Merlin, "and to Merlin, who keeps us safe from things we could otherwise allow to pass unnoticed."

Arthur and the rest of the knights follow his toast, which the noble adds a little too late. Merlin looks over at Lancelot with a single nod of thanks.

Lancelot winks over the rim of his goblet.

"It's a good thing he has magic, otherwise I'm not sure what use he would be. He was a lousy servant."

"If he's already using a cane at his age, what will we do when he gets older? We'll have to replace him entirely!"

"He's just doing it for attention, haven't you noticed? There are days where it just hangs over the crook of his arm, he's not even limping!"

"If you ask me, it's a ploy. A way to get us to lower our guards so that he can slip right under our noses. Have to watch out for these sorcerers, you know."

Arthur finds him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at the handle of his walking stick. He closes the door quietly, coming to sit next to him, offering a warm and sturdy shoulder to lean against.

"It's alright that I use this," Merlin asks in a quiet voice, "right?"

"Yes, Merlin, it's more than alright. If you need it, you should use it."

"But I don't always need it. Sometimes walking isn't a problem."

"But you still want to use it, right, because then it makes sure that walking remains not a problem."

"I know, I know, I just—" Merlin takes a deep breath and it comes out a little shakier than either of them would like. "How am I supposed to protect you when I can't bloody walk?"

"You protect me the same way I protect you," Arthur says, turning his chin with a gentle hand, "by doing your best. You've shown that you don't need to be a great fighter or a great battle tactician to fight the magic that would come for me or for Camelot. You don't need to put your comfort aside for that. Well, any more than you already do."

"…thanks."

"Of course, Merlin," Arthur says softly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders, "now, who's made you upset?"

A chuckle. "What, do you want a list?"

"Yes."

"Arthur!"

"Merlin."

"Camelot will fall," growls the nameless sorcerer of the month who hasn't gotten the idea that Camelot is no longer actively pursuing magic users, aiming what looks to be a poor imitation of a sword in the direction of the patrol, "and I will use its bones to build my throne!"

Bone throne. How garish.

Arthur barks a command and the knights draw their swords, holding out his hand to steady his horse. "You don't want this fight. Camelot has no quarrel with you."

"Silence! I will not allow your pretty words to dissuade me!" He begins to raise the…thing above his head in what is probably supposed to be a threatening way. "Not when I've come so far, not when I am so close to triumph!"

The knights ready themselves for what was probably going to be a big blast of concussive magic that blows them back almost twelve yards, throwing their limp bodies against the trees like ragdolls as their swords clatter to the ground, mangled bits of shrapnel. There was probably going to be a thunderous clap as a shockwave emanated from the source of the blast, sending out a piercing ray of blue light that near blinded them. It was probably going to be very, very impressive.

Oh, wait, that's what Merlin did.

He sighs as the would-be conqueror dissolves into a dust cloud, his cloak and ruined 'sword' lying in tatters on the ground. He picks his walking stick back up from where he'd struck the ground and fastens it back to the saddle.

"You'd think they'd get a little more creative."

When no witty response comes to his quip—which was an excellent one, thank you—he turns to see all of them staring at him with a little more than stunned silence.

"What?"

"Have you just been able to do that the whole time," Gwaine asks eventually, weakly gesturing to the walking stick, "or was that…new?"

"I'm not sure I should tell you."

"I'm choosing to believe that it was the stick. That's the much less scary option."

"Less scary than underestimating me?"

"Whoa, whoa," Gwaine says, quickly wheeling his horse out of the way when Merlin teasingly aims the end of his stick in that direction, "point that thing somewhere else!"

Merlin just chuckles as they resume riding. He can't give up all of his secrets, can he?

#dragonbabbles #fic #merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin

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viisiond · 1 year ago

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CHARACTER INFO- MATEO AMZY (OC)

Name: Mateo Amzy Alias: Buer’s protector, Head Sage of Spantamad, The second sage of Buer Age: 21 (7/7) Height: 5′10″ Affiliations: Sumeru Akademiya

Personality: Unpredictability is his middle name. Mateo is an individual shrouded in mystery in Sumeru Akademiya's campus despite being one of it’s many sages in charge, grouchy but still plenty open and a great teacher. Mateo clearly doesn't give a shit about what happens to him so long as he gets to see the one good thing in his life [Nahida & *Rachel] thrive, if they’re allowed that he'll be content. Though Mateo has been shown to show favoritism towards specific people, taking in Rachel as his personal student and the next protector to Nahida, he slowly began to open up to the other little by little despite being the most closed off person to the world, gaining a fatherly attachment to the girl and to the Archon the more he grew to know her. (going as far as to letting Nahida use him as a vessel should she wish to walk around.) Mateo’s loyalty to Nahida & Rachel knows no bounds despite being incredibly guarded. Mateo, while also being the youngest to ever become a sage to the Akademiya, is not respectful to authorities. He despises being told what to do and will often taunt them or be completely disrespectful towards them, he does not give a shit what happens. This also goes towards the Fatui (especially Dottore.) Diagnoses: Eleazar (Cured post Sumeru), PTSD, Depression

Family: Yasir Amzy (Father) Elvira Amzy (Mother) Oscar Amzy (Older Brother) Leo Amzy (Older Brother) Iesha Amzy (Little Sister)

Vision: Dendro Weapon: Polearm Constellation: Noctifer (Night Bringer)

OTHER [SOME OF THIS IS CANON TO MY PORTRAYAL OF NAHIDA]: - He is one of many who has eleazar in Sumeru and it’s effected him to the point he could have died from it on multiple occasions. Mateo carries a cane (that does turn into his polearm) around to keep his balance. His Eleazar has effected his arms and legs as well as his nerves (Mateo also experiences bouts of false pain and fatigue.) - Mateo did end up becoming Nahida’s vessel once she revealed herself to Dottore within Katheryne (he knows she doesn’t like doing it but he wasn’t about to get her caught), however this backfired on him as it got both Nahida and Mateo’s consciousnesses trapped- leaving Mateo to the doctor’s devices and his control upon waking. Forcing him to fight Rachel during the Coup to rescue Nahida. - After that fight, Mateo gained a few scars but the most noticeable would be on his temple. He also lost his hearing due to Rachel destroying his Akasha terminal. - In the past, to keep him out of their hair, Mateo was assigned to keep a close eye on Nahida- but that soon turned into a bond that he refused to let go of and it caused him to change his outlook on life to live for her... (It also made him reject the false god project several times. He refused to do it because of his attachment to Nahida.)

*= RACHEL BELONGS TO TEVYXNT!!!!

#* {Mateo Amzy; OC}#* {Character Info}#* {Headcanons}#(my) Nahida's dad everyone come and gET HIM

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jklovesfandoms · 2 years ago

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More Saint Cassian Dating Choir!!

Specifically how they get together!!! Yippee!!!!!

So, a bit of context

- I personally believe that the entire choir gets brought back, they spend a bit in the hospital, but they are all alive

- Some people in the polycule get together a lot earlier than others

- Ricky uses a wheelchair primarily, but also uses canes and forearm crutches! Also uses an AAC device to communicate! He also goes to physical therapy to strengthen his muscles

AND ONTO THE CONTENT!!

Noel, Ricky, and Mischa get together first, specifically over the summer before the accident. They go on a lot of pool and picnic dates together!! (When Noel isn't working, and Ricky isn't in pt) They try to keep it as much of a secret as possible, since small rural town, going to a Catholic school, yk that whole situation. The choir didn't even know. (Also Mischa is still engaged to Talia, and she adores her fiance's boyfriends, like she ships it hard)

Ricky and Jane/Penny get together pretty much immediately after the accident, like within the week they wake up. Basically September 18-20th.(I personally will use Jane, bc I hc that she feels more disconnected from name Penny after the accident, and likes having a nickname that the choir and only the choir calls her)

Mischa and Jane get together on September 28th, and Jane actually asks Mischa out. Like Mischa drives them out into the country, so he can ask her out underneath the stars, and Jane beats him to it.

Constance joins the polycule on Halloween! They were originally going to invite both Ocean and Constance, but Ocean was "sick" (Ocean has a big fat crush on the rest of the choir {-Noel obvi} and was nervous that she'd confess or show her feelings too much) so they only asked Constance out instead! (Constance also has a big fat crush on her now partners, and Ocean, and had since the accident for most of them, or for Ocean, since she was 7) they spent Halloween making brownies, handing out candy, and making out.... A lot of making out. Ocean spent it in her room, wishing that she had just risked it, and just being curled up, sad in her bed. But also being too stubborn to ruin their night by showing up after rejecting the invitation. (When she was later told that Constance joined the polycule, she may or may not have cried herself to sleep that night, bc she also had a crush on Constance since she was 7, and quickly developed a crush on the rest of the polycule between the accident and Halloween.)

After that, Ocean really stops hanging out with the choir as a group. She stops showing up to the weekly 'post-death therapy sessions' which was really just the choir ranting about things. She obviously still attends choir practice, but instead of staying behind and running through music or doing homework, or even just talking to the choir about the rehearsal like she used to, she almost runs out of the choir room when they finish. The polycule begins to wonder if they messed up. Did they do something? Ocean still hangs out one on one, or sometimes with 2-3 other members of the choir, usually Constance, sometimes Jane, and/or Noel. Occasionally Ricky and Mischa too, but never the whole group. So the polycule devises a plan, bc everyone except for Noel still loves her romantically (Noel loves her in a "I hate you, but like I couldn't live without your personality balancing mine" platonic kinda way), and still wants her to join. So on the first day of winter break, December 17th, Constance texts Ocean, and asks if she wants to hang out.

Ocean joins the polycule on December 17th, bc Constance did a little tricksy. She invited Ocean over, while the polycule was already there (since it was winter break, they had been there since school ended the previous day, hanging out and having a very long sleepover/hangout over the break) and Ocean was obviously not expecting them. (I will be coming out soon with a whole fic about how this+Constance's invitation went, along with more stories, bc it's my brain and it won't shut up) She may or may not have a breakdown, bc she still feels guilty for the person she was before the accident, and feels undeserving. But she does join, and the poly! choir is complete!!

More will be coming, bc poly!choir is rattling around in my empty little brain, and I must write and talk about it. At. All. Times. I simply am required to, legally. Bc damn it, if no one else is making the content that my empty little skull is begging for, I will!

#ride the cyclone #rtc #ride the cyclone musical #ride the cyclone headcanons #the saint cassian dating choir #yes Ocean is sad and a little bit scratch that quite a bit traumatized in this world #also they are in fact the cringiest but just most adorable polycule in the world and the cutest couple in the school #if it wasnt a catholic school and wasnt 2009 they'd be elected as the cutest couple but couple would be crossed out and replaced with cule #tumblr didnt want me to put that last tag in #homophobic/j #i have exactly one brain cell and this hc is taking up 5

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cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal · 1 year ago

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Hey hi for the character design ask—

Motion for Rashad, hair for Remus, stillness for Seongwon, for Mateo, change for Corinthian, and favorite for Cassian? :)

Oh! You forgot Mateo. Let me know what the question was and I'll answer it!

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

Rashad used to be incredibly coordinated and, for lack of better word, slinky in the way they moved. Very acrobatic and a bit like a striker.

In their fall during the HBI, they suffered a basilar skull fracture that has since given them no end of trouble. On of the aftereffects is a persistent inner ear problem that affects their balance. They've gotten much clumsier since and walk with a cane to help mitigate the issues. Luckily, the Heartbreak armor also helps with it, bringing them back to near peak form.

hair: How does your OC wear their hair? Does it have some kind of meaning?

Remus keeps his hair pretty much unstyled and layered down to just above his shoulders. He loves his natural curls, even with the frizz, and so he tries not to do to much with it aside from keep it nicely conditioned.

Before he transitioned, it was just a little bit longer. He did cut it very short a little after he came out, but decided he hated wearing it short and grew it back out. He thinks having it short doesn't flatter his face. And it made him look too young.

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

Aside from Corin, Seongwon is perhaps my most still Sidestep. She doesn't fidget a lot. Quite the opposite. She can stay still without issue for hours. But she does glance around a lot. Always looking around, watching her surroundings, ready to move, should she need to.

Her clothes don't really affect how she hold herself. If anything, it obfuscates how she's holding herself most times. Hard to see the tension in her shoulders underneath a large military field jacket.

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

Well, there's obviously his transition, but I think I'll focus more on how much he changed between his Sidestep and Simulacrum eras, because that change feels more impactful.

So, in his Sidestep days, Corin actually looked a lot like Herald does now. Blonde curls just a couple shades lighter and green eyes after the Void altercation, but very similar. After the HBI, Corin kept his hair much shorter, grows his beard, and dresses less flashy. He's mostly ambivalent about the changes. The hair and clothes are more for comfort and ease of life. The beard was a little treat for himself. A sign of reclaiming autonomy.

He did really hate when his eyes never went back from green to blue. It wasn't so much that he was attached to the color they were before, but more that the new one felt like another scar he can't escape. And Julia always said she liked the color before. Now, when she mentions it, it feels like a consolation. He's grown used to it over the years.

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

Honestly, I don't think Cassian has a favorite article of clothing. The closest thing might be his snake bite piercings. He feels they were the first thing that really distanced himself from the persona of Ricardo's Girl. Made him look like dainty and soft. A sharper edge.

Going forward, if he ever gets a clean escape from the mess he's in at the end of Retri, a lot of Daniel's clothes are going to become his favorites.They're about the same size, so Cass is going to "borrow" all sorts of things.

Find more OC Design Questions here!

#rashad basri #remus ramirez #seongwon kim #corin brooks #cassian barrett #revelations demo spoilers #fallen hero revelations spoilers #good choice in questions!#character design questions #inbox answers

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kitsumidori · 2 years ago

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FIRST FANFICTION!!!!! But seriously I've been wanting to write fic's for a while and I'm still debating if I want to get an ao3 account, but for now I'll post it here.

This is based on my recent post with Angel and Claptrap, and this show how the two became more closer.

And like I said, this is my first fanfic, so please go easy on me, I'm already nervous about posting this.

(also I may have accidentally written Angel as autistic, mainly with mentions of routine's and sensory overload)

Slight trigger warning for past trauma and past abuse

The sound of an alarm clock went off, a hand reached out to turn it off, and a small figure rose out of bed.

----------------------------------------------------------

beep beep beep

"New day, same routine" the girl said to herself.

Jack is gone, Dad's gone, and she wants it to stay that way.

After the siege in the control core, Angel thought it's all over. The pumps are destroyed, the vault hunters take the key, Jack loses his catalyst, and she's free from her imprisonment….or so she thought…

It wasn't until she woke up that she found herself in an infirmary, siren tattoos still intact, fearing that it's Hyperion's and that Jack succeeded, until she was greeted by Dr Zed, with Lilith Brick and Mordecai accompanied by…. but no Roland.

Roland was killed, Jack shot him in the back like the coward that he is. Jack then kidnapped Lilith and used her powers to charge the vault key and awaken the Warrior. But luckily Maya and her team were able to kill the Warrior, save Lilith, and stop Jack once and for all by a buzz ax to the head.

When Lilith used her Phasewalk on the vault hunters, a comatose Angel was transported to Sanctuary as well and was rushed to Zed's where she's currently residing. After Jack's downfall, the people of Sanctuary started to recover from Hyperion's influence, with Angel being affected by him the worst due to Jack treating her as a battery as well as almost killing her.

During her time spent in Sanctuary, the cybernetics have since been removed, even the failed echo eye that Jack implanted and never fixed, started to gain a more healthy weight, and is starting to use her legs again.

Right now she's starting her routine, one of them is to practice walking again before heading for breakfast. Most mornings, one of the raiders would come in and help keep her balanced, most of the time it's usually Lilith or Gaige, other time's if there too busy, one of the other vault hunters would come in instead, and today it's-

"GOOD MORNING ANGEL!"

A loud voice echoed the room, and Angel winced due to her sensitive hearing. She looked over and saw Claptrap, wearing a paper nurse hat.

Angel sat on her bed, confused because she wasn't expecting Claptrap of all people to assist her. "Uhhh, good morning to you too Claptrap" Angel said, still confused.

Angel then asked "Umm, I don't mean to be rude, but I was expecting Lilith to come by."

Claptrap then answered

"Oh, well Lilith and the gang got caught up on some Hyperion soldier's attacking, and everyone else is busy, so Lilith reluctantly put me in charge of your routine" Claptrap said a bit to proudly.

"Oh…ok" said Angel most of the time, change is something that would upset her, but it's a small change so she can handle it.

Angel then hopped out of bed, grabbing the cane that was sat beside. The cane also has a cute little bear charm that Gaige gave to her on the handle.

And with that, Angel got on her feet, Claptrap stood beside her, making sure she doesn't fall, Angel did her best to lean on Claptrap given that he's shorter than her. Slowly she starts walking laps in her room with Claptrap follow beside her.

Angel can't help but feel bad for the funny little robot. Not only he's the last of his kind, thanks to Jack discontinue the product line, but almost everyone treats him pretty badly, from insulting him, to threatening him with violence if he doesn't shut up. Considering this is the same Claptrap that helped Jack with the Helio's problem and help Jack with retrieving the H-Sorce, which almost led to his death, she can't help but feel guilty with what her dad did, especially with the advice she gave him when he was installing the VaultHunter.EXE program.

After silently walking around for a few minutes, Angel decided to break it and asked Claptrap "Claptrap, you uh….do you still remember when you helped Jack with the Helio's situation?"

It took Claptrap a breff second to answered "Kinda…. honestly, most of that memory was kind of fuzzy after retrieving the H-Sorce for Jack. I mean, I still remember Athena, that ice lady, that one guy that looks like Jack, having a stair climbing wheel, having to kill Felicity, Jack killing those sciencetist because he thinks there a mole" Claptrap's voice starts to trail off, sounding like he's about to cry.

Angel took notice, understanding the self guilt that she's been struggling with. "You know, before Jack imprisoned me, my life was pretty normal. Until my powers started to develop, and I accidentally turn on one of the turents and….and…."

Angel was on a verge of tears, trying to explain that traumatic memory of her mother's death.

She then continued "After that, Jack hooked me up saying that it's to restrain my powers. I was scared and I asked him where mom was, all he said was that she's not coming back. From that point I was no longer his daughter, instead I was his prisoner"

At that point, Angel broke down, even though he's dead, the physical and emotional scars would last a lifetime.

Claptrap stood by, trying his best to comfort the poor girl. "Well, you're still alive, and that's what matters…I guess?" Claptrap say's, trying to reassure her. He then continued "And do you want to know the best part? That loser of a father is dead, believing that he lost everything that's important to him"

Angel looked up at him, seeing that there's more to him than just some funny little robot. She then smiled and Claptrap said "So, do you want to continue with your routine?"

Angel noded, and the two continued.

#borderlands #borderlands 2 #angel the siren #claptrap borderlands #claptrap the fragtrap #fanfiction #my art #tw abuse #tw truama

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noxexistant · 1 year ago

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NOXNOX. HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE NEW SPIDERVERSE MOVIE.. WHAT WOULD YHE NEWSIES SPIDERSONAS BE

( i dont remember when i last out an ask in but it feels like months )

- mystery anon

MYSTERY ANON!!! i missed you, bud!

i’m gonna be honest, i have not seen the new spiderverse movie, BUT i do love spiderman (my cane is spiderman themed!!) and i would love to come up with some silly lil spidersona ideas.

first of all, jack’s is absolutely cowboy-themed. he’s a nerd. and the comedy of seeing a cowboy spiderperson swinging around new york? unmatched. people think he’s even more of a menace.

crutchie with a sick versatile crutch as part of his costume and a suit that supports his leg as much as possible. he’s got A LOT of arm strength and is agile as hell thanks to his adjusting around his bad leg, so he’s an amazing spiderperson. all that practice using his arms for balance and propulsion translates great to web-slinging for mobility.

davey is the most wildly anxious spiderperson ever but feels deeply obligated to help people as much as he possibly can, and the mask really helps. he feels like he can totally let go of his usual self and just focus on this new type of helping - he’s still dorky, but feigns easy confidence when talking to people and cracking lame jokes and breaking out the right vernacular to discourage crime and misbehaviour and keep people safe. les thinks davey’s spiderman is the coolest person in the world, and for that exact reason davey is desperate to keep les from ever finding out it’s him lest he try to follow in davey’s footsteps - or, god forbid, steal any of davey’s spiderstuff.

katherine, much like peter parker, uses her spidersona for journalism in part. she gets good stories - and gets to prevent the worst kinds of stories, the kind written because no help arrived. she gets to be the help. her dad hates her spidersona - would blow his top if he knew it was her - and she takes great pleasure in using his money to help fund her ventures. she wears bright, fun colours like her livesies costumes, has a bow somewhere on her costume.

also: buttons helping design and sew spidersuits for the other newsies. medda too, probably. she’d be an amazing spiderperson herself, or just a fantastic mentor and safe space for any and all of them, patching them up and reminding them they’re kids and helping them find peace in the fact that they can’t be perfect, can’t save everyone, can just do their best to help someone.

sarah would be an absolute badass spiderperson. she punches morris in the face in-costume one time and he wonders why that punch felt so…familiar.

also her and katherine spidergirlfriends. her and davey spidersiblings. (if les finds out, he is so jealous.)

#answered #mystery anon

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kindofwriter · 2 years ago

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WIP Intro

Image descriptions in alt text and under the cut

A surrealist, coming of age, pseudo-fantasy set in the Welsh countryside.

The summer before she’s due to leave for university, Evan is sent to empty her step-grandfather’s house as he’s moved into a care home, in the hope it will help her bond with her new step-father and brother. Resenting her mother and hating her step-father, Evan throws herself into packing up the house, hoping to get herself out of there as quickly as possible. However, it seems the house doens’t exactly want them there either, and the neighbouring woods offers a mix of foes and friendly faces.

Trying to balance growing up with being a younger sibling for the first time, Evan just wants to make it through the summer with her sanity intact. But it’s harder than you’d think.

Characters!

Evan is your quintessential pessimistic teen. Keeps all her feelings in her chest and god forbid you attempt to get to know her. With a mum who doesn’t understand her, a step-mum who tolerates her, a dad who’s too busy with his new family, and a step-dad who’s literally a monster, Evan doesn’t really know what to do with her friendly, over-sharing, would-move-mountains-for-her step-brother.

Most beloved little guy, anyone would be lucky to have him as an older brother. Majorly depressed, but would literally light himself on fire for Evan. Overshares silly things in order to get to keep his feelings to himself. Engaged to a cool firefighter lady - bi rights couple!

Literally has The Mabinogion memorised. They’re a little disheartened by Evan’s stoicism - they were excited to get to spend so much time with someone her own age this far out into the country. Despairs Evan and Arwyn’s relationship - it’s so frustrating that they won’t just talk to each other when Lily would give anything to talk to her own brother again.

Writing about this guy actually pains me, he’s genuinely the worst. Supremely traumatised, but far too old to get away with all the ableist shit he says to his son. Does not deserve the actual ray of sushine Arwyn turned out to be. Really does love Evan’s mum, despite everything.

I’m really just writing this up so that I can post book stuff here instead of twitter, lol. I don’t expect to make proper, regular updates, just drop random things when I want to.

Image descriptions!

ID 1: A background of a purple sunset. A row of silhouetted trees lines the bottom. White text reads ‘Gas Leaks.’

ID 2: A background of a purple sunset. On the left is a photo of a girl in a field with the sun setting behind her with a messy white border. On the left text reads ‘Evan King. 17 years old. Eldest of 5 on her dad's side. Youngest of 2 on her mum's. Likes to make up stories, but not to write them down. Likes girls, but does not want to fall in love. "That was pretty much the last straw in my 'people I can trust' flavoured capri sun."

ID 3: A background of a purple sunset. On the left is a photo of a silhouetted man with curly hair taking a photo with a messy white border. On the left text reads ‘Arwyn Dyfodwg. 26 years old. Only child until 5 months ago. Very happy to have a sister. Works at a publishing house for children's books. Got into a car accident at the age of 9 that resulted in him losing his mum, his first 9 years of memories, and needing a cane to walk. "I'll never be a good big brother if there's a chance I'll forget about you."

ID 4: A background of a purple sunset. On the left is a photo of a girl in a white dress sitting in a field with a messy white border. On the left text reads ‘Lily Hughs.18 years old. Used to have a brother Arwyn's age. Used. Homeschooled, but going to university after summer. Likes to go into the woods and pretend to be a fairy. Knows a lot about Welsh mythology. "No. But even if I was [watching your house] I'd be looking at you, not your brother."

ID 5: A background of a purple sunset. On the left is a photo of a man sitting next to a lamp with a messy white border. On the left text reads ‘Dafydd Dyfodwg. Late 50s Never really got over the fact that he was driving when his wife died. Has never really got on with Arwyn. He, wrongfully, blames it on the fact that Arwyn's autistic, but everyone else who meets Arwyn finds him friendly and easygoing. A terrible father, complex man, but good husband. "Don't you think after twenty six years he stops being my son?" ED.

#wip intro #writeblr #coming of age #surrealism #young adult #welsh mythology #cw parental death #cw child abuse #cw car accident

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doberbutts · 1 year ago

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Hello I remembered to add my self and my canes as reference:

I have hoffa's fat pad syndrome in my right knee- the layer of fat that my kneecap sits on has detached from its usual place and rests between the bones of my leg instead (called impingment). Unfortunately for me that fat layer is covered in nerves so it hurts A LOT when it gets pinched. When it first occured it was so painful that my knee completely locked in the bent position and I could not put any weight on my leg whatsoever for about 3 months while a physical therapist did her best to un-impinge said fat pad so I could stop screaming every time I moved my leg. I also have balance problems and a fainting disorder, and my other knee has an old injury from an accident that caused my right knee to blow like that in the first place.

My typical cane- photo cut off the bottom but it's got a tri base. It's a little high because it's adjusted for me to use with shoes and I'm barefoot here. I found the tri base to be the most comfortable for everyday use. I don't need my cane often anymore due to several lifestyle changes including no longer taking stairs, but even today I had an episode of impingment and the resulting muscle spasms causing a lot of pain in my leg, so I used it today.

This is my old cane which I use very infrequently. It's also just a 10 dollar cane from walmart like my usual cane, but it's pretty heavy and the handle doesn't have enough padding so it hurts my hands. Most importantly I switched off of it because I didn't like the single rubber stop on the bottom- too easy for slick surfaces to have it slip out from under me especially when my knee was completely fucked. It's adjusted an inch lower than my usual cane because I probably was wearing lower-heeled shoes when I last used it years ago. Perfect height barefoot. Too low in my current shoes.

This was a gift. I almost never use it. It's a cane-chair, so it expands out into a stool. It's also heavy, poorly balanced, and the chair "legs" stick out which means they hit the ground oddly when I'm using it to walk. Most importantly it doesn't adjust at all, and as you can see it's too short for me. It's actually sort of painful to use for long distances or extended walking, as it puts a lot of torque on my hips and back trying to use it semi-crouched. I use it almost exclusively in places where there's a lot of waiting in lines and standing around doing nothing so that I can do this:

Not the world's most comfortable seat but a chair is a chair when you have a fainting condition that gives you roughly 6 minutes of standing in place before you black out.

Sometimes instead of a cane, I use a dog to keep me upright. Sushi was very happy I broke out her service vest as I have not needed her much with my new medication and living arrangements. She is trained to lean forward whenever there is backward pressure on the harness, and to move forward at a steady pace. She also will lean her back end against my bad knee when I am experiencing a lot of weakness in the leg, making herself a counter-weight to keep me standing. Because of my fainting condition, she also will guide me to the nearest chair or exit if I ask, as sometimes I lose my vision when about to pass out.

On very bad days, or on extremely strenuous outings, this is more what our setup looks like. Sushi on the side with the Evil Joint Of Despair, my cane on the opposite side. It is possible to use some service dogs as a cane however I think the torque and pressure on the dog's shoulders and spine is not worth it. Sushi is also a little short for me to try.

Fuck this guy honestly.

A general cane guide for writers and artists (from a cane user, writer, and artist!)

Disclaimer: Though I have been using a cane for 6 years, I am not a doctor, nor am I by any means an expert. This guide is true to my experience, but there are as many ways to use a cane as there are cane users!

This guide will not include: White canes for blindness, crutches, walkers, or wheelchairs as I have no personal experience with these.

This is meant to be a general guide to get you started and avoid some common mishaps/misconceptions, but you absolutely should continue to do your own research outside of this guide!

The biggest recurring problem I've seen is using the cane on the wrong side. The cane goes on the opposite side of the pain! If your character has even-sided pain or needs it for balance/weakness, then use the cane in the non-dominant hand to keep the dominant hand free. Some cane users also switch sides to give their arm a rest!

A cane takes about 20% of your weight off the opposite leg. It should fit within your natural gait and become something of an extension of your body. If you need more weight off than 20%, then crutches, a walker, or a wheelchair is needed.

Putting more pressure on the cane, using it on the wrong side, or having it at the wrong height will make it less effective, and can cause long term damage to your body from improper pressure and posture. (Hugh Laurie genuinely hurt his body from years of using a cane wrong on House!)

(an animated GIF of a cane matching the natural walking gait. It turns red when pressure is placed on it.)

When going up and down stairs, there is an ideal standard: You want to use the handrail and the cane at the same time, or prioritize the handrail if it's only on one side. When going up stairs you lead with your good leg and follow with the cane and hurt leg together. When going down stairs you lead with the cane, then the good leg, and THEN the leg that needs help.

Realistically though, many people don't move out of the way for cane users to access the railing, many stairs don't have railings, and many are wet, rusty, or generally not ideal to grip.

In these cases, if you have a friend nearby, holding on to them is a good idea. Or, take it one step at a time carefully if you're alone.

Now we come to a very common mistake I see... Using fashion canes for medical use!

(These are 4 broad shapes, but there is INCREDIBLE variation in cane handles. Research heavily what will be best for your character's specific needs!)

The handle is the contact point for all the weight you're putting on your cane, and that pressure is being put onto your hand, wrist, and shoulder. So the shape is very important for long term use!

Knob handles (and very decorative handles) are not used for medical use for this reason. It adds extra stress to the body and can damage your hand to put constant pressure onto these painful shapes.

The weight of a cane is also incredibly important, as a heavier cane will cause wear on your body much faster. When you're using it all day, it gets heavy fast! If your character struggles with weakness, then they won't want a heavy cane if they can help it!

This is also part of why sword canes aren't usually very viable for medical use (along with them usually being knob handles) is that swords are extra weight!

However, a small knife or perhaps a retractable blade hidden within the base might be viable even for weak characters.

Bases have a lot of variability as well, and the modern standard is generally adjustable bases. Adjustable canes are very handy if your character regularly changes shoe height, for instance (gotta keep the height at your hip!)

Canes help on most terrain with their standard base and structure. But for some terrain, you might want a different base, or to forego the cane entirely! This article covers it pretty well.

Many cane users decorate their canes! Stickers are incredibly common, and painting canes is relatively common as well! You'll also see people replacing the standard wrist strap with a personalized one, or even adding a small charm to the ring the strap connects to. (nothing too large, or it gets annoying as the cane is swinging around everywhere)

(my canes, for reference)

If your character uses a cane full time, then they might also have multiple canes that look different aesthetically to match their outfits!

When it comes to practical things outside of the cane, you reasonably only have one hand available while it's being used. Many people will hook their cane onto their arm or let it dangle on the strap (if they have one) while using their cane arm, but it's often significantly less convenient than 2 hands. But, if you need 2 hands, then it's either setting the cane down or letting it hang!

For this reason, optimizing one handed use is ideal! Keeping bags/items on the side of your free hand helps keep your items accessible.

When sitting, the cane either leans against a wall or table, goes under the chair, or hooks onto the back of the chair. (It often falls when hanging off of a chair, in my experience)

When getting up, the user will either use their cane to help them balance/support as they stand, or get up and then grab their cane. This depends on what it's being used for (balance vs pain when walking, for instance!)

That's everything I can think of for now. Thank you for reading my long-but-absolutely-not-comprehensive list of things to keep in mind when writing or drawing a cane user!

Happy disability pride month! Go forth and make more characters use canes!!!

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