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electric--blanket · 3 years

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a place where the heart rests

so, because @thekaiserroll drew fanart of my fanfiction i decided to return the favour by writing a long Wintersberg one-shot based off of her short comic! i hope you enjoy touch-starved Heisenberg.

warnings for death (not for main characters) and some angst.

read on ao3

Mama… I want mama. It hurts.

Where’s mama?

Karl Heisenberg always suffered from nightmares. Even before he was taken in by Mother Miranda — as a child, Heisenberg often experienced night terrors that had him screaming in his bed. There were distant memories in the back of his mind, where he’d wake from a terrible dream that had him screaming for his mother — and she’d always come to his side. In that terribly large, cold estate that Heisenberg once called home, it always felt so lonely. But, his mother always eased his fears; with her silk nightgown and the distinct smell of expensive soap. Her soft fingers would comb through Heisenberg’s locks of ashen brown hair, hushing him in a soft tone of voice — a voice he could no longer remember.

During the experiments, it was the only thing Heisenberg begged for when he felt the cadou infesting his body. It felt like a worm wriggling around in the wet soil during a storm, curling and writhing through his organs. He screamed for his mother, wishing she would save him from the pain and take him home again. A seventeen-year-old boy screaming for his mother to come and save him looked utterly pathetic from Mother Miranda’s perspective, and the feeling of fear only intensified when she stroked Heisenberg’s hair whilst he screamed. A soft whisper that uttered, “I’m your mother now, child.” It made Heisenberg nearly vomit.

That was the last time someone had ever touched him so tenderly. He’d not felt a loving touch since then and ducked away from Miranda’s so-called ‘motherly’ touches.

At first, Heisenberg coped with the intense trauma of his bodily changes by taking it in stride and calling his newfound power of magnetism a ‘gift’. He knew deep down it was the opposite: it stopped him from ageing, rendered him infertile and stripped away his dignity by becoming a slave to Miranda. It took a long time for Heisenberg to fully process what had happened to him. His father had left him in the clutches of a madwoman, and his life only got worse from there.

In a fit of rage — perhaps at the age of twenty-nine — he revisited his parent's estate to confront the man he could no longer call ‘father’. He had aged since Heisenberg last saw him, but those steel eyes he’d inherited were still as hard as ever. His mother lingered in a doorway just down the hall, but she didn’t dare come to greet her son as he snapped with a short, interrupted breath. Heisenberg had grabbed his father by the neck and pinned him to the nearest wall, knocking down a beautiful oil painting his mother adored. His fingers didn’t seem to stop, squeezing on the skin and bone until he felt a sickening crack vibrate beneath his fingers.

Heisenberg hadn’t meant it, not really. It was as if a demon had taken control of his body and sought revenge that barely mattered anymore. He didn’t realise what he’d done until he heard the sound of his mother screaming; distraught and fearful of her own son that she’d once coddled so long ago.

That was the last time Heisenberg saw his mother and father. The estate was quickly abandoned not long after, and from what he knew, his mother took her belongings and moved to Austria with some distant relatives. That large house teased Heisenberg every fucking day, with how it towered near the factory grounds and reminded him of what he’d done. Arson wasn’t exactly on his bucket list, but Heisenberg couldn’t resist taking a match to the place and watching it burn. Whatever childhood remained in that house was left in a pile of ashes, and he never looked upon it ever again. All of the silly dreams and hopes he’d had for his life were gone.

That was until Ethan Winters showed up. Nearly a hundred years later, Heisenberg felt something he’d sought after for so long — hope.

“Karl? Karl—!”

Mama. I want mama. Everything hurts.

Heisenberg forced his eyes open. It felt like his life was replaying in front of him whilst he was passed out; like watching an old film reel repeating itself and becoming more distorted each time. Up until that very night, Heisenberg’s life had been a series of traumatic events and unforgivable actions.

That night, he’d turned it all around just by laying his eyes on Ethan Winters. A man so incredible, resilient and insane… He’d do anything to get his little girl back. It was the man Heisenberg had oh-so wanted his father to be, and he admired that about Ethan. He’d never been so good at expressing his emotions honestly, or even laying out his ideas in a proper fashion to others… Oh, but Ethan was special. He’d shown Heisenberg patience that he’d not been offered before and decided to join him at his side to kill Miranda. Together.

“Karl… Fuck— Don’t die on me, asshole.”

Ethan… Ethan…

Above the metal remnants of what his mutated body had used as a shell, he could hear Ethan pushing the scrap aside to try and find Heisenberg buried beneath it. He could also hear the distinct cries of a distressed baby, something that brought him back to Earth. Heisenberg reached up through the metal until his bare, calloused fingers brushed up against Ethan’s soft knuckles. There was a moment of silence when their skin touched, but Ethan didn’t waste any time in grabbing Heisenberg’s hand and pulling him out.

The moment the pressure around his body ceased, Heisenberg felt the telltale feeling of sickening warmth seeping from many wounds across his body. The cadou inside him didn’t react too well to it, trying to cope with the trauma done by squirming and pulsating inside of him. Heisenberg drank in the expression of Ethan’s relieved face for just a moment, only until it warped into one of worry and horror. Heisenberg was weak, and his knees buckled beneath the weight of his torso before he fell back onto the ground.

The baby cupped carefully in one of Ethan’s arms began to cry again as Ethan jostled her accidentally in an attempt to help Heisenberg. A baby crying wasn’t really helping Heisenberg’s already distressed state, but it made him realise just how fucked he was. There was no way they would get away in time together, and Heisenberg was too injured to walk. The cadou might have helped to some degree, but it didn’t ease the burning pain in his body, and the loss of blood that was making him dizzy.

Ethan’s horrified expression was pinned on an appendage from the Megamycete, which rose up from the cave systems like a flower bud in spring, ready to bloom. The small, red flashing light alerted him to the fact that Chris Redfield had succeeded in planting the bomb. They had to leave.

“Go.”

A silence hung in the air for just a moment, and Heisenberg didn’t realise what he’d just said. For the first time in his miserable existence, he was being selfless and urging Ethan to leave him behind. It was the last thing Heisenberg wanted.

Don’t leave me here. I’m fucking scared. I don’t want to die yet.

“Fuck you,” Ethan’s voice trembled with venom, “I’m not leaving you here now. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

Heisenberg let out a bitter chuckle, tasting the blood seeping from his gums as he grinned, “I don’t think we have any time to be arguing about this, buttercup.”

“No. I— Mia’s dead, Karl. I need you.”

That’s right. Heisenberg briefly recalled Miranda’s kidnapping of the not-so-innocent woman and the experimentation that followed. Unfortunately, her body gave in due to her state after giving birth and she died on Miranda’s operating table. Ethan’s wife was dead, and Rose was now left without a mother’s loving touch.

“I said go. Rose needs her papa intact, not blown to pieces.” Heisenberg insisted, slumping back against the pile of scrap metal.

“Damn it—” Ethan looked hesitant to leave Heisenberg. It was a truly sweet sentiment: to see someone care about him after all this time. After all of the terrible things he’d done, and the love he’d been deprived of… Someone cared about him. Maybe that was enough. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to die like this.

“Fuck.” Ethan stammered again, licking his dry lips and swallowing, “Karl… I… Thank you.”

“... Yeah. I know, Ethan.”

That was all he needed. A trembling, watery smile shot his way before Ethan held Rose close with both arms and turned to run.

He’s going to be a great father.

Heisenberg looked up at the plant-like form the Megamycete had taken, looming down upon the ceremony courtyard with writhing mold creeping closer to Heisenberg. It was then that he decided that giving in like this wasn’t who he was: he was a fighter to his last breath.

In a last attempt to preserve his life, Heisenberg parted the pile of scrap metal and shuffled beneath it all. He rolled his wrist, the cocoon of metal surrounding him and tightening. The metal creaked, drowning out the sounds of the mold writhing around the metal to try and get inside. Heisenberg closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth. I won’t die. Not yet.

The explosion that followed shortly after was deafening, causing the entire ground to shake beneath him and the metal to shudder against his body. It felt painful, rippling off his injured skin like that… But, fortunately for Heisenberg, the explosion wasn’t nuclear — the blast was enough to do the job and wipe out the mold and the Megamycete.

A silence followed the explosion, brick and ash collapsing against Heisenberg’s metal cocoon. Each noise made him flinch, and his fingers twitched instinctively as some final line of defence. He didn’t know how long it was before he felt brave enough to let his guard down and release his telekinetic grip on the metal. The scraps suddenly slumped, collapsing around him as Heisenberg pushed the metal off of his body and emerged like a phoenix rising from the ashes of its former self.

The smoke and dust still remained, causing Heisenberg to cough heavily as he took a sharp inhale of the air. He squinted through the dust and remains of what was left of his home town and realised how much he’d lost. It hit him all at once; his childhood, his parents and his fucked up little family. Even though he hated Miranda and his makeshift siblings deeply, they were all he truly had left to call ‘family’. It was over in the blink of an eye, and Heisenberg suddenly felt like a child all over again. Like a child waking from a nightmare, scared and alone.

Heisenberg’s fingers twitched into tight fists, clamping his mouth shut as tears threatened to spill down his face. Even after all this, he tried to will himself not to cry, to never let down the walls he had so carefully built. But, at that moment there was nothing left to keep the foundations upright. Heisenberg’s fists loosened, and he brought his hands up to cover his face instinctively. A knot seemingly untied itself in his chest and throat, and a guttural sob left him. Maybe — just maybe — it was okay.

Navigating the woods was even worse during a snowstorm at night. It was bad enough that Heisenberg’s body was weak from his healing injuries, but it felt haggard from his intense emotional breakdown. In a strange sense, he felt relief from it but at the same time, it felt awfully inconvenient. Heisenberg was sure he looked like a terrible mess; his clothes were torn and his hair was damp with clumps of ash hanging from his silver locks. Not to mention the blood staining his clothes, and his valuable dog tags that hung low on his chest.

In his many idle chats with Ethan before they fought Miranda, he could recall the other man mentioning he didn’t live too far from the village. It was a fair distance away, but not too far that it would be impossible to reach if your car broke down on the road between them. Still, it wasn’t a pleasant or short walk.

By the time Heisenberg even managed to reach a place that looked like a livable home, he was close to collapsing in the snow… But, he held out. The lights were turned off inside, but a motion sensor light on the property turned on once Heisenberg got close enough. The bulb blinded him briefly, and he held a hand up to shield his eyes as he walked up the porch to the door. Heisenberg sluggishly lifted his hand, knocking on the door as hard as he could and leaning against the frame. It took a few moments before he could see a light turn on inside from the windows, and the sound of someone walking down a wooden staircase slowly.

The person on the other side of the door stopped before they reached for the doorknob, and they spoke out.

“Who is it?”

Ethan Winters. That voice Heisenberg had missed so dearly; in all of its glory and full of caution. It almost made him laugh.

“Let me in, Ethan. I’m freezing.”

“Karl?”

“As smart as ever, Ethan. Can you hurry up?”

Ethan was quick to unlock the door and remove the security chain, twisting the doorknob and pulling it open. There, Ethan was standing in a pristine white shirt and some boxers that hung low on his hips… Along with a pair of comical slippers that seemed to resemble a cartoon dog. Heisenberg’s lips twitched into a tired grin.

“Oh my, too much skin, Ethan. Back in my day—”

“Shut up and get in here!”

Ethan grabbed Heisenberg’s arm, tugging him inside to shield him from the snowstorm outside. He slammed the door shut and quickly locked it back up, and the two men finally stood face-to-face. There was a silence that hung in the air, with so many unanswered questions on the tip of Ethan’s tongue, but none came. Without any further hesitation, Ethan threw his arms around Heisenberg’s neck and tugged him close for an embrace.

It was the first time Ethan had touched him in such a way. So full of affection and genuinity, it made Heisenberg’s fingers tremble with uncertainty. He didn’t know what to do with his hands: so overcome with the touches that smothered him. His brows creased into an expression of relief, and Heisenberg’s steel eyes fluttered shut as he succumbed to the hug. He wrapped his arms around Ethan’s waist, squeezing him carefully and burying his face into Ethan’s shoulder. The smell of talcum powder and formula milk permeated his shirt, giving Heisenberg the comfort he craved. He never wanted Ethan to stop touching him, and he was content to stay like this for as long as he could — to make up for all the time he’d lost aching after affection.

“I thought…” Ethan mumbled slowly, “I thought you were dead.”

“Mm.” Heisenberg hummed lowly in response, curling his fingers into Ethan’s shirt. “So did I. Turns out I’m hard to kill.”

Ethan snorted softly.

As it turned out, Heisenberg wasn’t too bad with kids.

It was a tough adjustment for the two men at first; Ethan had to keep Heisenberg a well-guarded secret as he was moved to a new location with Rose (courtesy of the BSAA). Heisenberg followed their steps at a safe distance, but he was never too far from them. Understandably, Ethan was moved into a smaller home: a humble bungalow in a quiet German village. Once the BSAA had left Ethan in peace with Rose, it didn’t take long before Heisenberg settled into the bungalow with them.

Ethan had insisted that if Heisenberg was going to stay there with him and Rose, then he’d need to learn to help take care of the baby. At first, he was extremely hesitant to do something akin to a parental figure… But, Rose was a surprisingly sweet baby. She didn’t fuss too much and rarely threw a tantrum over the little things. Rose was the right amount of responsibility for Heisenberg, and that made him a patient parent.

He’d been taught how to properly hold her (after many lectures), how to prepare her formula and change her. Rose was understandably unhappy with Heisenberg’s presence at first, perhaps longing for her mother that was no longer around… But, after a few months, she took to Heisenberg very well.

Because of Karl’s lack of mortality and infertility, he never thought he’d take the figure of a father like this… But, it wasn’t exactly an unwelcome opportunity. He’d even upgraded from sleeping on the couch to Ethan’s bed.

The first night Ethan invited him to bed, Heisenberg could tell from the flustered look on Ethan’s face that it took a lot of courage to ask him to bed. A sexual joke lingered on the tip of Heisenberg’s tongue, but he bit it back in favour of keeping the proposal on the table. Instead, Heisenberg had nodded with a cheeky grin and followed Ethan to bed.

There had been some nights where the loss of Mia hit Ethan harder than he’d liked it to — even after Mia’s work with The Connections was revealed, he had still loved her to a degree. Those nights were the hardest. All Heisenberg could do was hold Ethan in his arms and comfort him with nothing more than his presence.

This invitation into Ethan’s bed was far more intimate than a comforting hug. At first, they stayed a polite distance apart on either side of the bed, with Ethan turned on his side whilst Heisenberg stared up at the dark ceiling. In the darkness, his eyes created shapes that danced across the ceiling and warped before him. Much like the mold that infested him, it was as if it continued to taunt him with its presence. After a moment, Heisenberg finally turned onto his side and glanced at the lump that was Ethan with his back to him. That urge to touch returned to the forefront of Heisenberg’s mind. It was that deep ache in his chest, like a lump of flour stuck in a smooth dough that needed to be coaxed inward.

He reached out but stopped himself before he could touch, trying to plan the best way to move forward with what he wanted. Heisenberg pursed his lips, shuffling his body closer to Ethan’s back until he finally slid his arm over Ethan’s waist. He could feel Ethan’s body freeze and tense up a little, which made Heisenberg’s heart feel like stopping altogether. Had he gone too far?

But after a moment, Ethan relaxed, pressing his chest back into Karl slowly. It was all the permission he needed to slot himself fully against Ethan and quietly seek out his hand. Once Heisenberg found it, he carefully laced their fingers together as he held Ethan like that, tugging him close with his elbow.

No words were spoken in the darkness, but a silent understanding of what they both wanted. Heisenberg finally felt complete like this, closing his eyes and exhaling tiredly. His body suddenly felt tired, releasing all the tension it had been holding trying to psyche himself up to do it.

A feeling of affection swelled in Heisenberg’s chest as he held Ethan, finally giving in to the darkness and drifting away with their bond now stronger than ever.

“Are you fucking insane, Ethan?!”

Chris Redfield. A thorn in Heisenberg’s side, but not as bad as Miranda. His voice filling their home put Heisenberg on edge, but it didn’t really matter too much to him. It was around ten in the morning, and the couple had just had breakfast. The television was on, playing some cartoons in the background as Rose was sitting on the soft carpet of the living area with her toys, and Heisenberg sat close to her.

When Chris made an unexpected visit, and he spotted Heisenberg in the living room, the yelling began. Ethan had kept Chris just outside of the room so that Rose didn’t see her father getting angry, and Heisenberg made sure to keep her attention on her toys. Heisenberg was wearing a pair of tartan boxers, along with a button-up pyjama shirt with a white tank top beneath it. It wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of bedtime fashion, but it made him comfortable enough at night.

When the yelling only got worse and Rose seemed irritated by the noise, Heisenberg carefully brought Rose into his lap and crossed his legs.

“Hmm,” He hummed in feigned thoughtfulness, “Does ol’ Karl need to perform for little Rose again?” Heisenberg sighed dramatically, “Oh, the things I do for you.”

He turned his body subtly to the kitchen area, holding his hand out and focusing on one of the drawers. It slid open, a few tablespoons floating out from a cutlery tray. Heisenberg pulled his hand back, the spoons floating across to the living area and bringing them to a stop in front of him and Rose. With a simple, slow roll of his wrist, the spoons began to twirl and move in a circular motion above Rose.

Her eyes widened with fascination, the corners of her mouth opening into a gleeful smile. Absently, she reached up with her soft, pink hands and tried to reach for the spoons half-heartedly as they continued their motions. A soft laugh bubbled from her, causing Karl to smile softly.

“He’s a dangerous bioweapon, Ethan. He could hurt Rose!”

Heisenberg managed to hone in on those words; a sharp pain digging into his chest when he realised the implications Chris was trying to make. That Heisenberg was a monster. A bioweapon without feeling. A creature that would kill a child.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ethan pointing wordlessly at the soft scene of Heisenberg with Rose in his lap, entertaining her with spoons. That was all he needed to say, really — without even saying it. Even Chris was at a loss for words, and he quietly relented. Ethan was surely in for an afternoon of lectures.

It made Heisenberg smile a little more, turning his head subtly towards Ethan and catching his gaze. It was his quiet way of saying thank you. It went beyond thanking Ethan for trusting him with Rose but thanking Ethan for listening to Heisenberg, taking him into his home and loving him. Even though they’d never spoken those three little words out loud, maybe they didn’t need to. Their actions, affections and closeness spoke those words loud enough.

Truly, after all this time, Heisenberg didn’t think he was capable of ever being loved or trusted. Now that he’d left that horrible life behind, he was now a father, a friend and possibly a lover. The trauma would always remain, yes, like the cadou and the mutations. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy like this, in this simple little life he’d started to build with Ethan.

Maybe it would be okay.

#ethan winters x karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x ethan winters #heisenberg x ethan #heisenwinters #wintersberg #winterberg #karl heisenberg #ethan winters #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil fic #fanfiction #oneshot

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smutbymia · 5 years

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streetracer!mark (pt.4): Mad City

click here for streetracer!mark (pt.1): Go

click here for streetracer!mark (pt.2): 2 fast

click here for streetracer!mark (pt.3): Highway to heaven

DISCLAIMER: in order for the story to progress accordingly, there was no smut included in this part. Please forgive me but i think it was necessary for the development of the plot in order to set it up for its final chapters. I just wanted to give you guys a heads up. ❤️🥺 to make it up to you I’ll be uploading the next part ASAP.

The second Mark had disappeared, you fumbled around in your purse with shaky hands while looking for your cellphone. Your heart was racing a mile a minute and tears were still spilling down your cheeks. The car was eerily silent with only the sound of your shallow breaths and the faint sound of the ocean present.

“Who do I even call?” you spoke out loud as you unlocked the device. Frustration was setting in. You weren’t sure if you should call Taemin. He told you that Mark was involved in some trouble but you couldn’t believe it was this bad. He also told you not to get involved or else he wouldn’t let you see him again. You wept even harder. You had no choice. You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to Mark.

Just as you were about to hit dial a call came through. You answered with a shaky hello.

“Y/n,” sang a familiar voice on the other hand. “You wouldn’t happen to know why my dearest Mark has been ignoring my calls would you? The team is having a meeting tonight—“ began Haechan before you bursted into tears. You couldn’t be more happy to hear his voice.

“H-haechan, I think Mark is in trouble,” you sobbed. “We were at the beach then these guys came and they had a gun and Mark put me in the car and left to go talk with them but—“ you rambled frantically.

“Hey slow down,” he urged. He dropped his voice to a whisper “did you say gun?” he asked. “Y-yes,” you stammered.

“That bastard!” you heard him yell on the other end as you heard the sound of him hitting something on the end. “W-what are you talking about Haechan? What do I do?” you pleaded.

“Your brother ran out of here like 10 minutes ago saying he had to deal with something but he refused to tell me what it was. I bet he’s on his way right now, that dickhead. Listen, send me your location. Taemin will probably get there before me but I’m on my way!” he said. You had never heard him sound so serious before. You could hear him panting on the other end of the line before hearing a car door slam shut. Haechan hung up and you immediately sent the location to him.

It felt as though hours had passed even though it really had only been another 15 minutes. Still, every minute left you in agony. Mark said he would be back sooner. You sent a silent prayer to the heavens on his behalf. You were angry and devastated that such an amazing day was ending like this. You cursed yourself for ever getting involved in street racing and cursed everyone who kept the community alive. You cursed your brother for the part he played in it all too. You cursed everyone and everything. You just wanted Mark back. You dropped your face into your palms as you let out another sob, weeping into your hands.

A soft knock on your window made you jump in fear. Lucas was crouched down, peering through the glass with a worried expression on his face. You unlocked the door and began to climb out of the car. “Lucas, where is Mark? Is everything okay? And my brother?” you asked, words spilling from your mouth at the speed of lightening.

Lucas had placed his hands on your shoulders, gently pushing you back into the seat. “Lucas?” you pleaded, looking at him through panicked eyes. He tried to avoid your gaze. “Listen, your brother is here but he told me to take you home. That’s all I know,” he said.

You froze. What the fuck, you thought to yourself. “Did you guys really fucking think I was going to leave here without Mark?” you screamed at him. He sighed. You got up out of the car, forcing your way past him before bumping right into another body. Yuta stood in your way this time. He looked sad for you but he stood his ground, blocking your path.

“Sicheng will take the other car back” he said to Lucas, speaking over your head. “I’ll drive.”

Your head spun around, looking between the two boys. “Y/n, I’m sorry,” Yuta said. “Taemin gave us very specific orders. Please forgive us,” he continued.

That same second, you felt Lucas’ arms wrap around you as a struggle ensued. You tried to force yourself out of his grasp, hitting at his shoulders as you cried. Yuta held the door open as Lucas pulled you in, still keeping you locked in his arms, drowning out your screams with the palm of his hand.

You struggled and struggled despite the fact that you were no match for his strength and soon, Yuta was in the front seat as he started the car, driving off towards the highway.

Your body had grown weak. You had no more fight left in you. You collapsed against Lucas’ body as you wept. You squeezed your eyes shut, not being able to stop the tears spilling out. Every second of that day replayed in your mind as if the memories were permentantly saved inside. You could hear the sound of Mark singing again, you could feel his hand against your thighs, you could feel his warmth engulf you the way it did as you cuddled on the beach. You could see his sweet smile as he looked off towards the ocean, rambling on and on about all the things in life he wanted to do with you.

If you didn’t have him again you’d die, you thought. Your heart would certainly stop on the spot. The pain was too much as you felt the tightness in your chest increase. “Yuta, roll down the back windows!” you could hear Lucas yell. The night air forced its way into the car as you felt it fill your lungs, taking a deep breath.

“That’s it,” whispered Lucas as he held you in his arms, rubbing softly at your hair. “Everything will be fine. Just keep breathing like you are now.”

You must have fallen asleep on the way back because when you opened your eyes again you were pulling into the parking lot of your apartment. You couldn’t speak, not that you even wanted to. You had little energy. You simply clung to Lucas as you rode the elevator to your floor as Yuta looked on quietly.

You collapsed into your bed the second you were back in your room. You wouldn’t have been able to sleep if you hadn’t been so drained. Even now, the only thing you could do was replay your day on loop in your head. The only comfort was to keep listening to the sound of Marks voice, feeling his touch. Tears spilled from your eyes and onto your pillow.

You woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air a few hours later as you awoke from a nightmare. In your dream you peered directly into the barrel of a pistol, frozen in place and unable to move. This time it was Mark who wielded the weapon. You called out his name. You watched as tears filled his eyes before he pointed the weapon at your chest, directly over your heart. “It hurts so bad,” you wept. “I’ll make it stop,” he murmured. “I promise.” Those were the last words you heard before you were pulled out of you dream state.

Taemin sat at the end of your bed, but rushed over to check on you. “You were just dreaming,” he said, trying to get you to lay back down. You fought him, shoving his hands away.

“Is he okay or not?” you asked. Taemin sighed. “He’s going to be fine,” he answered.

“Going to be?” you yelled. “What does that mean? Why won’t anyone fucking tell me anything?” you screamed.

“YOU’RE TRAUMATIZED!” yelled Taemin. “YOU HAD A GUN POINTED AT YOU. YOU’RE HAVING NIGHTMARES!” Your brother was in an absolute rage.

Seconds later, Yuri came rushing through your bedroom door. She reached for Taemin, rubbing at his arm. “Babe, you need to calm down...” she ordered. She pulled him towards the door, shooting you an apologetic glance.

He stopped in the doorway. “I wish you knew how much it fucking kills me to hear you crying out his name, even in your dreams,” your brother said with a shaky voice. “Y/n, whatever you guys had needs to end. He put your life at risk and that’s where I draw the line,” he finished, slamming the door behind him and leaving you alone in your room. You couldn’t fall back asleep after that.

You didn’t know it at the time, but the next day was the first day of the rest of your life. A whirlwind of events had brought you to that point. You didn’t hear from Mark.

All you knew of his situation was that he was shot that night. Your heart had split into a million pieces when you heard the news. Every message you sent to him and Haechan both remained unanswered. Every hospital that you checked refused to confirm if he was a patient or not. There was no way of you reaching him and the more time went on, the more you could feel yourself slipping backwards into a dark place.

Taemin tried his best but your relationship wasn’t the same afterwards. He urged you to go to therapy, which you did, but it only made you realize how much you hated your current situation. Everything had seemingly gone back to normal for the others. Lucas, Yuta, and Sicheng still trained regularly with Taemin, not speaking of Mark as if he had never existed in the first place.

Lucas was the only person who offered a few words to you here and there in the following weeks. He’d apologize, or ask if you were okay but you had mentally checked out and everyone could tell. There was nothing left for you in this town anymore.

About a month later you ran into Haechan. You had been juggling multiple jobs and were working at a bar in a different part of town when he strolled in with a few of his friends. It was as if you were seeing red. You cornered him as he excused himself from a game of pool to use the bathroom. You had almost knocked the air out of him entirely when you delivered a delicious slap across this face. You had fallen apart over the last 2 months and he hadn’t even had the decency to reach out to you. According to him, he desperately wanted to but was simply following Marks orders.

“Y/n, you have to understand. He almost d-died that night,” said Haechan as he stuttered. “He got himself too deeply into the illegal races. He tried to make everything right by joining the team with Taemin but it was too late.” Haechans voice dripped with empathy for you but you still couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him.

“Then why?” you asked him. “W-why what?” he asked. “Why did he leave me?” you asked, tears filling your eyes but still not falling. For months you had been numb. Despite your sadness you hadn’t cried since the week everything had happened. You felt like an empty shell.

“I think he wanted to protect you,” haechan answered. “Where is he now?” you asked. Haechan sighed deeply. “I’m not supposed to tell you... b-but he went back to Korea and I’m going back too. I don’t really have anyone else here. He’s my best friend. I’ve just been tying up some loose strings but my flight leaves this weekend,” he said as he looked down at his feet.

You nodded before turning on your heels and walking away from him without saying another word. “Y/n! Wait!” Haechan called after you, but you didn’t bother to stop. You resumed your position behind the bar as you finished your shift. You could feel Haechans gaze for the rest of the night but didn’t bother to acknowledge the boy again.

Luckily, because of therapy, you were pulling yourself together in preparation of your own plans. Plans that you hadn’t let anyone in on. Truthfully, you had a feeling Mark had left town. Your heart still belonged to him and despite his absence, at times you felt more connected than ever. Haechans conversation was simply confirmation. There really was nothing left for you here, just as you had expected.

Taemin didn’t take it well when he came home from his next stint in Europe to find you and your belongings missing from the apartment. You had been communicating since he had left and you sounded much more cheerful than you typically did. He felt glad. He felt like he was getting his sister back again. He called you, leaving countless voicemails pleading with you to come home.

You had applied to a university overseas in the UK, and had secured an apartment from all the money you had saved from your jobs. You wanted to study journalism and entertainment. You needed desperately to get out of your old town and to start a new life. After a couple days of settling in you called your brother to let him know you were safe and sound. He was relieved but still deeply hurt that you had gone so far with your own plans without including him at all. He felt like he had failed you. Truthfully, you felt that he had too because you still held a grudge for the role he played in keeping you away from Mark. Either way, it was the for the best if you spent time away from him. He had stepped in to take care of you after you had lost your parents and you were grateful but you couldn’t live life under his control any longer.

Despite the fact that your heart was still far from being fully healed, you felt a little bit more at peace. You had a new lease on life and were looking forward to having the opportunity to start over.

The next two years flew by. You doubled up your courseload at school to fast track your way through your program and spent all your other time working paid internships with Entertainment companies. You were really finding your direction and falling into a place where you felt confident in your career path. You were passionate about journalism. All those years of watching your opponents races had paid off and you often found yourself covering various racing events, breaking down the analytics of the racers abilities and car details in a way that made it easily understandable for readers. Slowly, you drifted over into broadcasting, doing online segments for races.

By the time you had graduated you had a built up a pretty good resume for yourself with the experience you had and were planning your next move. You decided to base yourself in L.A, working out of Hollywood. Most of the time, your job forced you to travel and this was one of those occasions.

You had flown out to Japan and were in the midst of your first ever Formula One Grand Prix. It was beyond hectic to be working during such a legendary event and for the first few days, you and your team were taking quite the beating. You were understaffed and overwhelmed as you tried to juggle TV interviews and the filming of online content. Your superiors had started relying on the rookie reporters to pick up the slack wherever they fell short.

You were shocked. You didn’t think you’d be the one flying in helicopters while recording play by play recaps as you watched the race cars zip along the closed off Japanese streets. It was a lot to juggle and was physically challenging as well.

You were sprawled out across your hotel bed when your phone buzzed. You answered immediately.

“Y/n, thank God you’re still awake,” said your manager on the other line. It was only 9PM but jet lag had been getting the best of everyone and most of your colleagues struggled to make it past 7PM most nights since press days started so early.

“There was a huge mixup and I absolutely need someone to cover an interview for a scheduled written release!” she said over the phone. “I’m still stuck in Osaka but I’ve booked another hotel in Yokohama where you can conduct the interview and stay for tonight. Transportation is arranged,” she finished.

“I’ll pack and head over now. I should be able to make it in the next hour to start the interview right away!” you said as you pulled yourself out of bed in search of your luggage. “Great, I’ll send all the files over to you!” she said before hanging up.

In the next hour, as expected, you were delivered safely to a luxurious hotel in the city of Yokohama. The hotel room was much more fancy the one you had stayed in before and even had a small seating area, which was perfect for conducting the interview. You had unpacked your belongings and cleaned yourself up.

Your favourite thing about written releases was that you didn’t have to worry about being in front of a camera. Since it was late, you opted to do the interview in a cream blazer , a white top, and some light washed jeans. You paired them with some black, leather mule loafers and drew your hair up into a bun, allowing your baby hairs to cascade around the perimeter of your hairline. “This will do,” you said to yourself as you gave yourself a final once over in the mirror. Your interview was due to commence any minute so you took your place on the couch as you opened up your laptop to glance through the files your manager had sent over.

You froze when you opened up the first document to get background information on the rookie just as you heard a knock at the door.

You spun hour head to follow the noise, not moving from your seat, knowing very well who was waiting for you on the other side.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you repeated to yourself as your heart began to race. You jumped up and made your way over to the entrance. You didn’t bother peering through the peep hole and instead took a deep breath before spinning the lock and opening the door.

Mark stood directly in front of you, wide eyed, as his mouth fell open. He seemed to stumble backwards a bit as he took you in. Since you had come to replace your manager, he must have had no idea you were going to be doing the interview instead.

“Y-y/n...” he said, blinking a few times as if he was hallucinating. He looked the same but more mature. His black curly hair was cut a little shorter at the sides, and he sported his signature white Tee with a black racing bomber jacket overtop with various sponsor patches sewed to it along with the korean flag. He rocked a pair of black jeans with his outfit, and overall looked amazing. He had gotten more muscular over the years as well.

You had tried not to make it too obvious that you were staring but you figured you had failed when he began to shift around in his jacket, straightening it out.

“Mark, welcome. I’ll be interviewing you tonight,” you said professionally before stepping aside and motioning for him to enter. He seemed to hesitate before stepping over the threshold and into the hotel room. You closed the door behind him with a click before spinning the lock back into place.

You had poured coffee into two cups before his arrival, but picked his up to empty it out once he had settled into his seat. You came back moments later with a cup of tea instead as you slid the beverage in front of him, taking a seat next time him on the couch. Mark had always hated coffee. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Shall we begin?” you asked. “Uh, yeah sure,” he responded nervously as you momentarily locked eyes. You held each other’s gazes for what felt like an eternity. His eyes seemed to say a lot, though he hadn’t spoken much since you opened the door.

You broke eye contact then proceeded to hit start on the camcorder you had resting on the table in front of you. You let a soft sigh escape your lips before speaking, “Okay, first question.”

Click here for the final chapter, streetracer!mark (pt.5): long slow distance

#nct imagine #nct #nct scenario #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct smut #mark lee au #mark lee x reader smut #mark lee #lee minhyung #nct mark #markhyuck #nct haechan #nct hard hours #nct soft hours #nct blurbs #superm smut

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duhragonball · 3 years

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (151/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: This story takes place about 1000 years before 66 years after the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[27 February, Age 850. Toki Toki City.]

"I'll be honest," Trunks said. "I don't know if we can rely on her."

He stood in the kitchen of Chronoa's house, his lavender hair casting a gloomy shadow over his concerned brow. The Vault of Time looked like a fortress in the center of the Time Nest, a daunting structure of grey stone. In sharp contrast, the Supreme Kai of Time lived in a modest Capsule house, with rocket engines and other half-assembled machines scattered all around it. The epicenter of this clutter lay inside the house, where Chronoa maintained a collection of gadgets and nick-nacks. Some were displayed on overcrowded shelves, while others lay in various piles strewn in every room. Trunks had cleared an assortment of vacuum tubes off the stove to brew tea.

"You made the wish," Chronoa said from her sofa. "You asked Shenron for a strong ally, one who could help you defend time itself. And Shenron granted your wish. He sent you Luffa. Do you think the Eternal Dragon made a mistake?"

"The Dragon doesn't make mistakes," Trunks said. "At least, that's what I would have said before today. But now, she's blown a mission, and she's terrified at the thought of trying again. What's worse, we can't afford to send anyone else in her place. The enemy made a big play in that battle with the Ginyu Force, and if we reset the mission we might lose our chance to track them. Oh, and I almost forgot how she got you hurt."

"You're being unfair," Chronoa said. "Healing Luffa's injuries was my call, not hers. You saw how upset she was. I didn't think we could wait to get her to the hospital."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it," Trunks said. "Your healing ability transfers the wounds of others onto yourself. You've used it on me before, and I'm grateful, but... A power like that... Well, it bothers me. I don't know how else to put it."

"It has its uses," Chronoa said. "You can learn a lot about someone by taking on their pain for a little while."

The staff at the Toki Toki hospital had healed the Kai, but her movements were slightly stiff and more careful than usual. Most people wouldn't have noticed, but Trunks could tell. The healers in Toki Toki City were capable of restoring a person to perfect health in a matter of moments, but somehow they never seemed to finish the job properly when it came to the Supreme Kai of Time. He didn't know why that was, or what it meant. So he chose to focus on the kettle and making sure he had the correct burner turned on.

"Are you ready for the water?" Chronoa asked.

Trunks was about to ask what she meant, and then the kettle began to whistle. As he reached out for the handle, he noticed a slight distortion around the kettle's surface. Then he looked back and saw the Kai holding out her hand towards the stove. He had seen her do this before, using her control over the flow of time to speed up or slow down the movements of objects, but he hadn't considered how this could be used to boil water.

"Uh, thanks," Trunks said. "I guess that's one ability I can get used to."

He prepared the cups and brought them to the coffee table next to the sofa. Then he double checked the sofa for any loose circuit boards or cogs. When he was sure the cushion was clear, he sat down beside her.

"You're so sure that Luffa will recover from all of this, and then she'll come back and see this mission through," he said. "I don't suppose you can speed that up the same way you did the kettle."

"Maybe I could," she said with a childish grin, "but I'm in no hurry with her. It's like we always say around here: There's time."

"I know," Trunks said. "I mean, I understand that Toki Toki City sits outside of the normal flow of time, and that it doesn't matter if we send her back to Namek today or a year from now. But we still have to send her back eventually, and until we do, we can't do anything else in the meantime."

"Sure we can!" Chronoa said. "We're having tea, aren't we?"

"I... I'm not gonna win this discussion, am I?" Trunks said with a sigh. "All right, fine. Could you at least share with me why you're not worried about Luffa? Maybe then we could both enjoy our tea."

"Sure!" Chronoa said, "Why didn't you ask sooner?" She set her cup on the table and held up her hands to start counting her fingers as she spoke. "First, I know enough about the Dragon Balls to know they wouldn't let us down. Second, I've learned a thing or two about Saiyans from working with you, Trunks. I don't think she'll give up on this. She's too stubborn. And third... if there's one thing I know about time, it's that it doesn't matter how you start. It's how you finish. Each of those wounds she took tells a story. I'm nothing special when it comes to fighting, but I could tell this much: she was battling harder than her body could handle."

"What do you mean?" Trunks asked. "Are you saying she lost because she overexerted herself?"

"I mean," she said as she picked up her cup to sample the tea, "she's stronger than she's letting on. I don't know if she's sandbagging for some reason, or maybe she doesn't realize what's happening to her. But she's giving it everything she has. More than she has to give, really."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Trunks asked. "What good will it do us if she burns herself out before we get to the bottom of this case?"

"Well, it's a good thing she has you for a partner, then," Chronoa said with a smile. "Besides, I think you need to give Luffa some more credit. She knew better than to dive right back into the mission. I'm sure she's taking some time to rest and recover before she tries again."

"I hope you're right," Trunks said as he sipped his tea.

*******

[3 November, Age 762. Earth.]

Luffa used to be the Legendary Super Saiyan, but she no longer had that extraordinary power. She didn't know why, unless it had something to do with her attempted self-destruction on Planet Nagaoka, or the intervention of Shenron, a mystical dragon who had reached out across time and space to pull her out of that battle and into the ranks of the Time Patrol. Luffa had fully expected to die on Nagaoka, but instead she wound up in the distant future, an era where the Saiyan species was nearly extinct, and the legend of Luffa had been utterly forgotten. With no other prospects, she threw herself into the work of the Time Patrol, until she was traumatized during a mission involving a bodyswap with the villainous Captain Ginyu.

Fear and shame had given way to boredom, and Luffa had decided to try a different activity to take her mind off her troubles. Her roommate had suggested a "Parallel Quest", and she had found a pair of Time Patrollers who offered to show her how they worked. They had planned to handle all the fighting while Luffa sat back and watched, but things had gotten out of hand.

"Luffa... run!" begged Ravi. The enemy had defeated him almost instantly, and Ravi's boyfriend, the Saiyan Mosh, was the next to fall. As Luffa knelt beside Ravi, the enemy floated high above and charged a ki attack in his index finger. Ravi's advice was very sensible.

Except Luffa couldn't run. "I'm stuck!" she told Ravi. "Some kind of psychic hold..."

"I can... reverse it!" Ravi promised. The Earthling held up his hand and offered it to her. "Take my hand, and be ready to move."

Their enemy was another Earthling called Chiaotzu, but he looked nothing like the little person Luffa had encountered in other missions to this era. Chiaotzu was at least four times his original size now, with bulging muscles and a look of unthinking hatred in his eyes. When Ravi saw him, he addressed Chiaotzu as his Master. It followed that Chiaotzu had taught Ravi how to apply this psi-lock, and how to reverse it.

And then, just as Chiaotzu fired his beam, Luffa felt her body slip free of the psychic power, and she leaped out of harm's way. The ground beneath her exploded into a fiery crater, and she alighted onto the top of a butte.

Ravi wasn't pleased with her decision to bring him along for the ride.

"What're you... doing?" he asked. "I'll only slow you down! You gotta... get Mosh out of here!"

"That's exactly what that big goof is counting on," Luffa said, gesturing toward Chiaotzu in the distance. "As soon as I put you down, he'll slap another psychic whammy on me, and I'll be finished. But as long as I keep you close by, you can protect me from those weird powers of his."

"Girl, that won't work!" Ravi protested. "He'll just come in close and pick you off! You can't fight and carry me at the same time!"

"I'm not going to fight him," Luffa said. "Not yet, anyway. I have to save your lover first."

"He...! I...! I mean, we're dating, but we aren't that serious yet!" Ravi stammered.

Luffa might have apologized for the presumption, but Chiaotzu opened fire one again, forcing her to hop from one rock formation to the next to stay clear of his attacks. The hard part came when she reached Mosh's position, and had to carry them both. Their combined weight was no trouble, but the easiest way to handle a Saiyan of Mosh's size was to drag him by his tail, and Luffa felt bad for putting him though such an undignified situation. Luckily, his ordeal was brief, as she made it to their time machine soon after.

"Inside!" Luffa shouted as she kicked open the canopy with her foot and dropped Mosh in. The Saiyan was nearly as tall as the corrupted Chaiotzu, but the time machine was big enough to hold three passengers, so she knew they would fit with room to spare. "You'll be safe in there."

"Luffa wait!" Ravi cried. "We--"

She might have stopped to listen, except Chiaotzu had closed in on her while she was dropping them off. With her arms free, Luffa swatted aside his ki blasts, but then he locked on his psychic hold, and she was immobilized in midair.

"Come on!" she growled, unable to do anything else. "Free shot, if you're brave enough to take it!"

For Chiaotzu's part, it wasn't a matter of bravery, but rather the irrational rage that consumed his thoughts like a brushfire. He charged toward Luffa, and began to pummel her with his massive fists. Luffa had been in a similar pinch while fighting Guldo of the Ginyu Force, but she decided against the strategy she had used before. In that battle, she had push against the psychic lock with her own telepathic abilities. At the time, it had seemed sensible, but she didn't want to become over-reliant on her Saiyan telepathy. She wasn't sure it would be available the next time she faced Guldo...

The next time... while she was trapped in...

... in Captain Ginyu's body...

As Chiaotzu worked her over, the realization hit her that much harder. Despite her fears, without really being aware of it, she had already made up her mind to go back and try again. She had come to this "parallel quest" in an effort to distract herself from the Ginyu mission, but in her heart of hearts, she was still fighting that last battle, even as she fought a new one against this mutated Chiaotzu.

There was something terrific and horrifying about this. It was as though her Saiyan heart would push her forward no matter badly she wanted to give up. Saving Ravi and Mosh had almost been second nature to her. Less than an hour ago, Luffa had been curled up in a fetal position in the shower.

And then, at last, the answer came to her. If Chiaotzu wanted her to hold still so badly, then she would oblige him. Instead of using her power to try to break free, she concentrated her energy inwards, using every last bit of it to fix herself to that spot. She clenched her teeth as she waited for the next blow, and when it came...

There was a loud 'clang', and Chiaotzu reeled with pain as he clutched his fist. Thanks to her ki, Luffa's body had no give to it whatsoever. She had been unhurt, while Chiaotzu's aching knuckles left him in too much pain to maintain his hold on her.

"That trick won't work on me anymore," she snarled. "Get that through your thick skull. You'll have to try something else if you want to defeat me.

He glared at her with those wide, enigmatic eyes, then said only one word: "Corn..."

"What?"

Then he rushed towards her, throwing punches and kicks with incredible speed. "Coooooorrrrrrn!" Chiaotzu wailed, seemingly for no reason.

"My name's Luffa, not Corn, you idiot!" she screamed. Fast as he was, she managed to weather the assault and responded with an explosive wave. It wasn't enough to defeat him, but it did give her some breathing room.

She pressed the attack, and danced around him, shifting left and right through the air to catch him off balance. But whenever she went in to strike, he was always ready to block.

"Hold on... You're good," Luffa said. "But not this good. What are you trying now...?"

(Luffa, he's reading your mind!)

She suddenly heard Ravi's voice in her own thoughts, and she glanced back at the time machine to make certain he and Mosh were still inside. Chiaotzu capitalized on this by kicking Luffa in the head. The blow sent her down to the ground, hard enough to shatter a nearby hillside, but not enough to defeat her.

"Oh, is that right?" Luffa grumbled after coughing up some dust. "I should have figured that out sooner."

(In my native era, Chiaotzu was an old man,) Ravi explained. (I didn't have much going for me, but he took me in. I was stealing food from his farm, and he invited me to join his dojo. He offered me a chance to become a warrior. This... this isn't how he's supposed to be!)

"I know that," Luffa said as she dodged another Dodonpa. "He's been corrupted by the same evil magic as the others. In this time fragment, the enemy must have used their power on him instead of Vegeta. Or... hell, I don't know."

"Nine...!" Chiaotzu groaned. "Minus... One!"

Luffa threw a punch, expecting him to block and counter. She fully intended to reverse his counter, but instead she was surprised to see her punch connected this time. It wasn't enough to stop Chiaotzu, but it did stagger him.

"Well now..." Luffa said with a grin, "maybe you're not as tough as I thought." She tried to follow through with a roundhouse kick, but Chiaotzu blocked this one and caught her in a throw. Before she could escape, Chiaotzu caught her with another psychic hold, and she was helpless to stop herself from being hurled into a cliffside.

"Left! Right!" Chiaotzu screamed. "Right, right, right! Left!"

Luffa took her frustration out on the rubble that surrounded her, blasting it all away until she was standing in the center of a crater. "I've had enough of your riddles!" she shouted back. "Do your worst. I won't back down until--"

"Disappear!" Chiaotzu said in a dreary monotone. And then he did disappear. Or at least, it seemed like he had. Faster than Luffa's eyes could follow, Chiaotzu suddenly appeared behind her, and caught her in a full nelson. With his immense size and power, the pain of the hold was incredible.

"Dis... a... peeeear....!" Chiaotzu said as Luffa grunted and struggled to break free. "Wish..."

"Shut up!" Luffa shouted. "You'll wish you were dead when I'm finished with you!"

But for all her bluster, Chiaotzu's psychic effect was making it difficult for her to escape the hold. Luffa considered herself an expert on such things. Joint locks were one of her specialties, and every hold she knew was accompanied by the way to escape. But these all depended on being able to control herself, and her body just wasn't responsive enough.

(Luffa, that's it!) She heard Ravi in her mind again. (He wants you to beat him!)

"Oh he does, does he? Well... he's got... got a funny way of showing it," Luffa snarled.

(Listen to me! When I was younger, he told me the story of King Piccolo. The Demon King gathered the Dragon Balls to wish for his youth, but Tien Shinhan told Chiaotzu to stop Piccolo by trying to make a wish first! 'Wish for King Piccolo to disappear!' that was what Chiaotzu tried to say, but Piccolo killed him before he could get it out!)

"Left, right, left right!" Chiaotzu droned on. Suddenly, Luffa felt herself moving forward. Chiaotzu's hold was as tight as ever, but he was floating forward, sliding across the air like a stone sliding over ice. He drove Luffa into a mesa. Then another, then another. Each time, the stone broke apart on Luffa's face like a punch from an angry giant.

(He wants you to kill him! To beat him) Ravi said. (That's his wish!)

"And how--ow! Does he expect me to do that?! Ow! Dammit!"

"Nine! Minus! One!" Chiaotzu wailed.

(That's it!) Ravi said. (When he fought Krillin in the World Martial Arts Tournament! Master Chiaotzu was always bad at math. Krillin beat him by calling out arithmetic problems, and he'd get so flustered trying to solve them that he'd leave himself wide open!)

"Fine!" Luffa muttered. "Hey, Chiaotzu! What's the square root of twelve?!"

She tried to kick at his thighs, hoping that she could cramp up his quadriceps muscle enough to make him loosen the full nelson, but instead Chiaotzu's psychic attack intensified, and she could barely move her leg enough to tap him with her heel.

"It didn't work!" she shouted, just as Chiaotzu drove her face first into another butte.

(That's because it was too hard!) Ravi said.

"Well, is he bad at math or not?!" Luffa demanded.

(Whoa, easy now. Easy,) Ravi said. (We're on the same side here!)

Luffa knew this on a factual level, but she was getting sick of Ravi's voice in her head, almost as much as she was sick of Chiaotzu's power locking up her muscles.

"What's six plus two, Chiaotzu?!" she shouted, desperate to get this over with. She almost hoped it wouldn't work, if only to disprove Ravi's suggestion. And yet...

"Uh... uhhhh..." Chiaotzu grumbled, and Luffa could feel her toes again, and a slight relief in her shoulders as his grip slackened.

"Hah!" Luffa said as she twisted her arms and slid free of Chiaotzu's hold. She withdrew to a safe distance, then opened fire with a volley of ki blasts. She expected Chiaotzu to avoid or deflect them, but they were nothing more than a diversion anyway.

"On your left!" Luffa shouted as she rushed headlong at him. Sure enough, Chiaotzu turned, expecting her to attack him on that side. She swerved at the last possible instant and blindsided him on his right.

"Ino...Shiko...Cho..." Chiaotzu moaned.

"Two minus three," Luffa said. It was almost disturbing how easy this was becoming. She hesitated a moment before trying a kick to Chiaotzu's abdomen, and yet she still managed to land the blow, and the elbow smash between his shoulders after that.

"What's 'InoShikoCho'?" Luffa asked aloud, hoping that Ravi was still listening.

(It's what he called one of our practice drills back at the dojo,) Ravi said. (Only... I don't know what that has to do with anything.)

"Don't worry," Luffa said. "I'll try and find out for myself--" As she spoke, Chiaotzu lumbered towards her, and she ducked under his massive hands and grabbed hold of his face. She hadn't tried a telepathic reading in a long time, but in her last Time Patrol mission, she had seen the Saiyan Son Goku use it on Krillin, which led her to suspect that she had recovered enough of her former strength to do the same. The Saiyans had a peculiar range of psychic talents, but before Luffa could reminisce on this, the images came flooding into her mind.

His name was Chiaotzu, and long ago he had trained under the Crane Hermit, a master whose skill was matched only by his cruelty and bitterness. The Old Crane School taught the ways of treachery and deception. Among these lessons was the InoShikoCho, a beast with the body of a boar and the antlers of a stag and the wings of a butterfly. To raise money during their training journeys, Chiaotzu and Tien Shinhan would use the InoShikoCho to grift small, isolated villages. The Crane Hermit had adopted it as a pet and trained it well, but it could pretend to be a wild animal when needed, and Tien and Chiaotzu would unleash it in villages, then offer to "capture" the beast... for a price. After pretending to subdue the InoShikoCho, and collecting their reward, they would move on to the next village and repeat the process.

But one day, Son Goku intervened. Stumbling upon the three of them sharing a meal between villages, he learned of their trickery, and when he tried to expose them, Tien was forced to betray the InoShikoCho to cover his tracks. After that, Tien and Chiaotzu knew that the creature would never trust them again. Eventually, Chiaotzu felt a similar grief when Tien defied the Crane Hermit, and Chiaotzu had to choose a side. The Crane Hermit swore he would have revenge, and when he returned, it was with his brother, the assassin Tao Pai-Pai, who beat Chiaotzu so badly at the World Martial Arts Tournament that he had to be carried out on a stretcher.

And this was what ran through Chiaotzu's mind now while he fought Luffa. Beneath the mindless rampage forced upon him by the dark magic, there was an undercurrent of sadness and regret and longing to be done with betrayal. As Ravi had said, in this moment, Chiaotzu wished for nothing more than to be made to disappear.

The depths of this despair shocked Luffa, so much so that when she snapped out of her mental link, Chiaotzu was able to knock her back with a well-placed chop to her neck. It was not enough to defeat her. Luffa knew that it would never be. For in spite of the increase in power the dark magic gave Chiaotzu, he was still holding back. The Earthling had that much willpower, at least.

"I see," Luffa said to him. "So this is the resolve of you Earthlings, then. Even in this sorry state, you keep fighting to resist this power that's come over you. It's impressive. Four minus three."

She dodged his next offensive and went around him, catching him in a belly-to-back suplex. This wasn't enough to stop him, but she was no longer trying to defeat him. Now that she understood how to beat him, she could secure victory at her leisure. Until then, she simply used her attacks to buy enough time to say her peace.

"I might not look it," she said, "but I used to be somebody important, a long time ago. Left left right." Chiaotzu fired the Dodonpa again, but she grabbed his arm and spoiled his aim, then swung around and brought her knee into his face.

"I'm not telling you this to brag. I'm not much of anyone now, not anymore. But I'm telling you this because I want you to know that I'm someone who impressed a lot of people, and you've impressed me today. Not sure if you can understand what I'm saying, but I needed to get it off my chest, okay? Your students, your memories, your pride, everything you are keeps fighting, even after your mind and body have been corrupted like this. It's... comforting. Twelve plus six. Galick Gun."

Now she was ready to defeat him. The Galick Gun she fired came quickly, with as little warning as she could give. That made it weaker than it could have been, but Ravi's prediction was true: Chiaotzu was so distracted by the numbers that he was virtually defenseless. Even a weak Galick Gun would be enough to knock him out. She intensified the power anyway, once she was certain he was too overwhelmed to stop it.

"I see what I have to do now!" she shouted. And then with a savage cry, she chased after Chiaotzu, and leaped down beside him where he fell.

"You've shown me the way," she said in a low voice as she checked to make certain he was beaten. The dark energy dissipated, and his body began to shrink to its normal size. "I'm in your debt, Earthman. I guess I should cook something tasty for your student Ravi, who honors your teachings."

Satisfied that the immediate danger was over, Luffa gathered Chiaotzu in her arms, and went back to the time machine to collect Ravi and Mosh.

*******

[28 February Age 850. Toki Toki City.]

"That should hold, for now anyway."

In the Time Vault, Trunks and the Supreme Kai of Time stood before the large table at the center of the atrium. She had just finished performing a supernatural treatment on a section of parchment from the Scroll of Eternity. Trunks did not even pretend to understand how it worked, but she said it would help, and that was good enough for him.

"Let's hope it lasts," Trunks said. "I've checked for signs of enemy activity. Nothing so far, but I can't believe they'll stay quiet for long. If they strike again... I don't suppose you can contain the ripples from two time anomalies, can you?"

The Kai looked up at him with a confident smirk. "Hey, I can do a lot of things, you know?" This made him feel a little better, but there was still a hint of worry in her eyes that kept him from smiling.

"At least we know if they strike somewhere else, we can send other Time Patrollers to deal with that," Trunks said. He gestured at the scroll on the table, which still roiled with purple energy. "But we can't resolve this current anomaly without Luffa, and there's no telling how long that could take."

"She'll be back," Chronoa said. "And we'll manage until she's ready."

He was about to reply, when suddenly a third voice called out.

"Trunks!"

He had already turned to face the entryway before he heard the voice. His ki senses had told him who it was, but he was still surprised nonetheless. Luffa marched up to the table with purpose and laid a casserole dish on the table with a loud thud.

"Luffa! Y-you're back?" Trunks asked.

"I would have gotten here sooner, but I wanted to make sure Chiaotzu was okay, only they told me I couldn't bring him back to the city. Parallel Quest stuff. It's over my head."

"You went on a Parallel Quest?" Trunks asked. "We thought you were resting..."

"After that," Luffa went on, "I made pasta for Ravi and Mosh. Took me a while, but I'm pleased with how it turned out. I made too much, and this is what wouldn't fit in the refrigerator. You like lasagna, Trunks?"

"Uh, sure," he said.

She stared at him, as though suspicious of his answer. "Good. Help yourself." She then looked at the Kai and added. "You too, Chronoa, if gods eat this sort of thing. Oh, you know what? I didn't bring any plates."

"I've got some in my house," Chronoa said. "We'll manage, but we really need to talk about how we're going to handle this scroll..."

"We already did talk about that, remember?" Luffa said. "And it's pretty simple. I'm the only one who can finish the mission, because of how I got bodyswapped with Captain Ginyu, right? So I'm going back in there, right now, and I'm going to finish it."

"Hold on," Trunks said. "You were in pretty rough shape a few hours ago. Are you sure you're feeling up to this?"

"I've got it all figured out this time," Luffa said. "Trust me."

She didn't even look at Trunks as she spoke, but instead leaned in and took the scroll before anyone could stop her. And as she vanished into the past, Trunks saw a sadistic grin on her face.

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

NEXT: The Bluff.

#dragon ball #lssjluffafic #luffa #trunks #chronoa #ravi #mosh #chiaotzu #toki toki city

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olivay-official · 5 years

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Red: The Untold Story of a Reluctant Hero

Synopsis: This is the story of Red, a normal college student with superpowers, though her friends call her Jay... and none of them know about the whole superpower thing. Sarcastic, chronically sleep-deprived, and always hungry she's the happy in-between of Deadpool and Spiderman that you never knew you needed!

Prologue: Oliver

I can say with confidence that one of the best and worst things to happen to me happened all in the same night. It's funny how something horrible can lead you to something… amazing.

It was the night I had met her. Our city’s own local superhero. Well, I guess superhero was kind of a stretch. No one really knew much about her and the media couldn’t figure out what to call her. She had a variety of names most of which seemed to pick out the color she always wore: Red. She was called a vigilante by some, a menace by others, it really depended on who you asked. The media often chose to report on her fashion choices rather than the actual criminals she helped put away. Her costume did, however, lack a certain flare you might find in a comic book or movie. She most often wore something you’d go to the gym in, though the colors were always consistent. There was only one resource of decent coverage on the superhero/vigilante, a blog called ‘The Red Underground’. It was the only real resource I had to go off of for what went on in the city. It exposed a lot of real stuff going on that the news hardly ever talked about including the Bone Crew, a nasty gang that the cops and media would rather pretend didn’t exist.

It was all of this that had led me to her.

I had been looking at colleges. It wasn’t so much that I even needed to go to college. My father already had a job lined up for me and I was more than capable of doing whatever I damn well pleased without taking the extra four years. But college to me had always been more about independence. A way to get out from my father’s overbearing thumb. I mean the guy meant well but there comes a time when a kid needs to get his own life and mine had been seriously lacking in the last 18 years. So I snuck out to visit a local college on the other side of town. I had even called and set up a damn tour for myself.

The school itself wasn’t exceptionally impressive but the location was nice, close enough to home that my dad wouldn’t completely freak and far enough that I would need to get my own place. It was practically a dream come true.

The sun had gone down by the time I finally headed back home. In an effort to enjoy my newfound freedom I decided to walk home. I had hardly made it off campus when I noticed two men following me which wouldn’t have been alarming except for the fact that both men had skulls tattooed to their face. One man was completely bald the details of the skull printed across the shiny skin. The other had a notable crew cut with a strong fade- probably to show off the markings on the side of his skull. I could feel my heartbeat pick up and my palms begin to sweat. Not that I was particularly afraid of them but clearly their proximity wasn’t a good thing. I picked up my pace and noticed the immediate increase in their own. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind that they were following me. In an attempt to lose them I began taking quick turns onto streets I didn’t know very well- not my best move… I ended up making a poorly chosen turn into a dark alleyway. Turning quickly on my heel I ran straight into the two thugs blocking the entrance. I backed up slowly body tensing as it recalculated my fight or flight instinct. The two men smiled wickedly at me sharing a knowing look before pouncing into action. Their moves felt choreographed, the two moving in perfect sync both grabbing a shoulder and shoving me into the concrete wall. I grunted as my back slammed hard against the surface of the building.

“Now pretty boy why don’t you tell us where you keep your wallet?” The bald one hissed as he gripped the front of my shirt tighter. I felt the situation was a no brainer- give them the cash, what did an empty bank account matter when a cut throat was on the line?

“Right back pocket,” I answered dutifully. The bald man smiled as he reached his hand back to slide the leather wallet from my pocket. The man flipped it open greedily with the one hand.

“You got your cash, mind if I have some fun with this one?” Crew cut asked his partner all the while keeping his eyes steadily trained on me a dark glint in them making me swallow hard.

“Do what you want with him, not my type anyways,” Bald boy snickered. My eyes widened at his words, suddenly I didn’t think my cash was all they wanted… Crew cut pressed close to me a sinister grin playing on his lips. He slid something from his pocket and with a flip of his hand a blade was pressed to my throat.

“Try to fight me and I’ll slit your throat,” He cooed moving close to my ear. I could feel his other hand moving down my body. I was in a word: petrified. It’s never talked about, either because it doesn’t happen as often or because the victims are too afraid to admit what happened to them, I idly wondered if I would fall into this same category. After all it was either suffer the traumatic event and its lasting effects or lose my life. There was only one way to find out and I was quickly barreling towards one of the two options. I squeezed my eyes shut as if that could block out the horrors of what was to come.

“I have to admit, he does have a nice face but I don’t think that’s a good enough reason to excuse rape,” A girl’s voice sounded boisterously from above. I opened my eyes to find a small girl sitting on the lowest rung of the fire escape across from us. Her dainty feet dangled over the side as she surveyed the scene. Both men stood frozen staring angry daggers her way. My mouth hung open. This is the vigilante?! The girl was so much smaller than I had imagined. She looked to be about half my size maybe less. Her hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail and her clothes were tattered and stained with blood. Bruises speckled her skin even dotting her pretty round face. She grinned down at the men as she awaited their answer.

“Get out of here little girl before someone gets hurt, and believe me you don’t want that someone to be you,” Bald boy quipped.

“Let me just tell you how this is going to go, I’m going to kick your ass first because well that knife just has to go, and then I’m going to kick your ass while your rapey friend over here watches. And if you two are really lucky you’ll stay conscious through the whole ass kicking ordeal. Hell, I’ll even throw in a pretty black eye while I’m at it!” The girl taunted as she wistfully kicked her feet back and forth. She approached the entire situation more like it was a nice evening stroll with friends than a gang’s mugging and violation of humanity. The two men looked at each other with bewildered looks on their face before turning to the questionable hero with a snarl.

“I think what you need to do is shut-” Crew cut had turned his knife towards the girl but before he could finish his reply the girl had swung off the handle bars flying feet first through the small space. Her feet collided with the mans face knocking him into the concrete next to me with a sickening crack. The knife clattered to the ground. Her feet pushed off his skull and she flipped gracefully backward onto the ground in front of me. She gave me a wink before swiveling towards her next opponent already poised for his attack. He charged her, arms extended as if he were going to take her out by the legs. At the last second, she side stepped his move her hand bolting out to take Bald boy by his neck. Using his momentum against him she sent him headfirst into the concrete wall following his friend’s path on the collapse down. She dusted her hands off placing them on her hips and clicking her tongue.

“I so wish the two of you had stayed conscious long enough to see how pathetic you look,” She sighed before pulling a handful of zip ties from her pocket. I watched as she dragged the two bodies to a storm drain and promptly tied their hands, multiple times, to the railing. Finally turning back to me she smiled apologetically. She strolled over to me and picked my wallet up off the ground.

“I believe this is yours.” She offered me the worn leather wallet. I nodded and hesitantly took it from her. Her hands went back to rest on her hips as she regarded my state. Her eyes were striking, a bright gray I had never seen someone wear before, thickly rimmed with dark lashes.

“Any chance you know where the nearest phone booth is? I gotta call this in.” I blinked in surprise at her words- she was going to take care of everything for me- no statement from me whatsoever, and no chance my dad found out about this or anyone else for that matter (so maybe it really was that men were afraid to talk about being the victim). My previous assumption of her size had been correct, the girl stood nearly a foot shorter than me, and though fit verged on the thin side but that didn’t stop her from single-handedly kicking two guy’s asses as if it were nothing.

“I- I don’t,” I stammered out. The girl frowned a beautiful pair of full lips. Before I could stop myself I found my eyes surveying her. A colorful patch of purple marks about the size of a fist decorated her stomach, a few fading scrapes appeared along her chin and arms. She smirked as she observed where my gaze had gone.

“The rumors aren’t true,” She told me.

“Huh?” My face suddenly felt hot as I met her piercing gaze once more.

“I don’t starve myself, I just have a killer workout routine,” She chuckled and to my surprise I found myself releasing a nervous laugh alongside her. She nodded towards the alley’s opening.

“Try not to run into any more trouble on your way home,” She ordered me. I nodded following her instructions to the mouth of the alley. Before I could completely leave though I turned back around to face her.

“Hey-” I called voice uneven. Her head looked up from the crooks she had saved me from. “Thank you- for saving me,” I finished awkwardly. The girl grinned as she looked at me.

“It’s just what I do,” She said with a shrug but the smile didn’t leave her face. I found myself smiling as well.

It was then that I decided I would do anything I could to help her.

She was a hero.

Chapter 1: Red

Some might say I’m a superhero. Me? I prefer local badass but superhero is good too. And I guess I kind of was a superhero. I wore a mask and stopped crime. Hell, I could do things that shouldn’t be possible.

Yeah screw it I’m totally a superhero.

“Earth to Red, are you in there?” My tech whiz of a sidekick shouted in my ear.

“Yeah yeah I hear you,” I grumbled. He normally only communicated to me through an earpiece. He handled the details of crime-fighting so I wouldn’t have to. Don’t get me wrong the guy could kick some serious ass if he wanted to but it was a rare occasion for him to ever need to.

“Kind of a slow night,” Napster noted.

“Yeah it's boring-” I froze, body tensing as I heard a scream. Finally something good! I ran towards the sound. They were easy to find only two buildings over from the rooftop I had been perched on. A woman fought for her bag from a kid with a green mohawk. I smiled, it was almost too easy. Silently I slid down the drainpipe on the side of the building. On the ground lay your usual alleyway muck and trash. I opted for a sturdy glass bottle. Giving it a light toss it hit its target. Upon impact with his head, the boy let go of the bag and the woman took off running. The boy turned to me growling.

“Sorry man but that purse just totally clashed with that outfit,” I said leaning casually against the brick wall of the building.

The boy glowered at me and without a word his entire left arm morphed into a crystalized blade nearly the length of his body.

“Well, that’s… new,” I said trying to keep my mouth from hanging open.

“Holy shit!!”Napster shouted. Not helpful.

Blade boy came at me fast.

“You know just because you can give yourself a haircut,” I said ducking under his arm as he swung at me, “doesn’t mean that you should!”

The boy bared his teeth and took another literal stab at me. I jumped over his attack plowing my feet into his face and kicking off him. The force knocked him on his back as I did a backflip onto my feet.

“Uh, Red we might have a problem,” I heard Napster in my ear. I groaned in response.

Blade boy snarled as he scrambled to his feet. I scooped up a bent lead pipe off the ground. Taking my own swing this time I went for the arm and his galdamn arm cut through the pipe! He grinned at me. I did not care for that.

“The girl with the purse was working with him, they robbed a jewelry store two blocks over, the purse was full of the loot,” Napster told me.

“WHAT?!” I practically screeched. Distracted I didn’t move fast enough when Sparkles swung at me. A shallow slice split across my stomach.

“Ah!! Fuck- it must be a bitch to wipe with that thing!” I shouted. He sneered.

“Classy,” Napster commented.

“I’m busy can you just handle this?” I asked annoyed. In response, I heard Napster’s bike rev into the earpiece. Blade boy gave me a confused look.

“Voices in my head, they just demand to be heard,” I quipped with a shrug. The boy scowled.

“Don’t you ever hear voices?” I asked as I came at him swinging. He dodged easily and I nearly lost my hand when he came up to block my next punch.

“Fine don’t talk, I like the strong silent type anyways!” I took a couple of steps back and came at him running. He went for the attack but my target was lower. I let my body fall sliding clear under his crystalized blade and through his legs to the other side. I jumped to my feet running up the side of the brick wall to the top of the dumpster. One foot touching down I quickly pushed off crotch slamming into the side of his face as I used my forward momentum to twist and flip him onto his back. Disoriented, I took a moment to punch him in the face… hard.

The blade receded back into a human-looking arm as he fell unconscious.

“Strong silent type huh?” Napster chuckled as he appeared in the alley-way dragging the struggling woman behind him by her handcuffs.

“Better than street-naive tech geek. What the hell are you doing?” I asked eyeing the still very aware girl next to him.

“Well it seemed a little extreme to knock her out,” Napster snorted. Without hesitation, I punched the girl straight in the nose and she went limp, Napster caught her giving me an incredulous look.

“What, don’t tell me you’re afraid to hit a girl in this line of business. Besides if she started screaming someone could be dumb enough to let her go,” I told him.

“How are you going to tie him up. Zip ties aren’t going to work with that arm,” Napster asked as he half dragged the girl over to a drainpipe to secure her to.

“Yeah his arm looked like crystal, could probably cut through anything…. So I have to make sure he won’t want to use it.” I smiled to myself.

Five minutes and 48 zip ties later and I had successfully zip tied the boy's hands into his pants.

“See this is what happens when you try to shish-kabob someone- karma’s a bitch,” I said to the unconscious boy as I finished off the last zip tie. “Alright, Napster you can call it in to the cops. Let ‘em know about the whole arm thing if you can,” I said admiring my handiwork.

“Your problem-solving skills concern me,” Napster muttered.

“Well, he’s not cutting his way out now! This whole super-powered villain thing is getting out of hand. I don’t even know what the cops can do with this guy once they remove the zip ties,” I shook my head.

“Are you sure you can’t tell me more about how you got your powers? It could help me figure out where all these suped-up villains are coming from,” Napster said as I began pulling myself up onto the fire escape.

“You know everything you need to know about how I got my powers,” I said taking a look at him.

“That you have them?” Napster’s sarcastic tone was clear. His dark eyes sparkled with a hint of humor and curiosity as he looked at me. For a moment I wondered what he was like in the real world.

“Precisely!”

I climbed up the fire escape shaking my thoughts of Napster, it was about time for me to return to the real world as well and he had no place there for me.

#My writing #superheroes #Original Work #sidekick #spideypool cross #original writing #red the untold story of a reluctant hero #jay and oliver #red and napster #superpowers #sidekick au

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lambcaey · 6 years

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Casino Cups: Life Goes On (Part 1)

This three-part fanfic is largely based on the awesome Cuphead AU known as Ask Cups and Casinos, but could apply to the Cuphead fandom in general, too (just long before the Cup bros start working at the casino). Definitely check it out!

Credit goes to Bright Goat for the AU (hope I did justice to your amazing work!) Enjoy!

Part 2

Casino Cups: Life Goes On (Part 1)

Silence without serenity; stillness with a sense of foreboding; a feeling of calm clashing with that of rapidly-growing fear. That was how it felt during the first few minutes without Elder Kettle. One minute, he was tearfully professing his love for his grandsons. The next, there lay nothing in bed but a shallow husk of china. This wasn't to say that it happened completely out of nowhere. The man was getting on in years, and his family couldn't afford the kind of medical treatment that would preserve his already very long life. Despite the Isles' long history of supernatural phenomena, none of the local mystics could conjure up anything guaranteeing immortality, aside from repeating the horrific mistake of making another deal with the Devil. Nevertheless, no matter how aware the boys were of this day coming, they still weren't ready when it eventually occurred. By the time he'd reached his final hours, Elder Kettle had stopped trying to escape his fate. Instead, he came to terms with it as a fact of life, a life that was as happy and fulfilling as it could ever be for him. Even as the last of his family stood before him, begging him not to go, Elder Kettle left this plane of existence with a smile, completely at peace. It took a great deal of will power after such an intense shock, but the boys eventually forced themselves to leave their grandfather's bedside for the proper postmortem preparations. It was almost too painful to even look at their elder's corpse anymore. They didn't want to leave him, but, at the same time, there wasn't anything left to hold on to; just an empty shell in which a warm, caring, and loving soul once resided. It was incredibly unnerving, the idea of something this traumatic and heartbreaking occurring in this cheery, colorful, whimsical world. Every other element of life, even death, had some sort of silly, cartoon-like slant, at least from Cuphead and Mugman's perspective. Seeing stars; pupils rolling in their heads; a giant lump that could be brought down with the swing of a hammer; any sort of injury or illness was presented with the classic "Rule of Funny" that usually dictated the rules of physics and natural order in Inkwell Isle. Here, there wasn't any of that. No soul to parry, no ghost to interact with; Elder Kettle was plainly, simply, and completely gone. This event was just another item of this world's never-ending list of questionable occurrences. The only real shock from it was how starkly it contrasted to the rest of Inkwell Isle. Naturally, such a rare phenomenon of this magnitude could hardly be kept a secret. The news spread fast to the other residents in the isles, and, within the next half hour, virtually all of them had arrived at the boys' doorstep. Of course, there were exceptions. As much as the Devil and King Dice relished the misery of others, this particular soul was of no real value to them, which would make the experience more boring and pointless than anything else. Weepy also had to remain outside, lest he start flooding the house with his rivers of tears (more so than usual). Everyone else was either mourning by Elder Kettle's bedside, or offering any form of assistance or comfort to his grieving grandsons. Though the boys couldn't afford an official funeral, this was the closest to one as they were ever going to get, and they greatly accepted it. Mugman was very receptive to his friends' kindness. He showed the utmost gratitude from even the smallest of favors, from a shoulder to cry on to an array of bouquets for his grandfather's grave. He also spent much of the time reflecting on all the fond memories he and everyone else shared with him, even mentioning some of the more humorous ones to bring some sort of levity to the situation. Though part of Mugman felt very much alone, being surrounded by all his friends and neighbors was all the more comforting to him during this troubling time. Cuphead, on the other hand, expressed an entirely different demeanor during the pseudo-funeral. He kept himself isolated from the rest of the crowd, sitting at the top of the stairs with his arms resting on his knees. Instead of shedding any tears, his eyes gazed off into space, as though a million thoughts were racing in his mind at once. Friends like Cagney or Hilda had asked if there was anything they could do for him, but after a few times of giving them a cold "I'm fine," Cuphead retreated to his room, barring himself from any socialization altogether. He didn't even come out to watch the local ghosts deliver his grandfather's urn to the mausoleum. It was as clear as day that Cuphead was anything but "fine." Many people, especially his brother, were very tempted to go upstairs, and insist that he come out and talk with them. However, they also bore in mind that perhaps this was Cuphead's way of grieving with such a tremendous loss. The last thing the poor boy needed was feeling as if his friends were trying to impose on him how they thought he should act in the face of his grandfather's passing. Although they had good intentions, everyone agreed it was best to leave Cuphead alone...for now. ~~~~ After an almost sleepless night, Mugman dragged himself downstairs, and fried up some eggs and bacon for himself and his brother, hoping he'd at least be willing to come out and eat. He also poured a couple of glasses of orange juice, and, by force of habit, reached out to grab some English breakfast tea with sugar, before remembering that family connoisseur was no longer there to enjoy it. Only seconds after setting the table, Cuphead tiredly made his way to the kitchen as well. "M-Morning, Cups." Mugman chirped with a forced smile. "I made us some breakfast." "Thanks," Cuphead responded rather brusquely as he sat down. Although the meal was well-made by any standards, any appetite for it was practically nonexistent. Mugman forced a few bites of his eggs while Cuphead simply twirled his fork around the bacon, staring glumly down at the table. After a moment or so of awkward silence, Mugman nervously attempted to break the ice. "I, uh, I put Hilda's flowers up as a centerpiece for the table," the young boy stammered. "That was really nice of her, huh?" No answer. Mugman tried something else. "It...looks like a really nice day outside. If you want, maybe we can go for a walk, or catch some butterflies, or see how the others are doing. How-How does that sound?" Again, no response. He may as well be talking to an empty chair. Mugman let out a small sigh. He clearly wasn't getting anywhere with his grief-stricken brother. With a heavy frown, Mugman tried appealing to Cuphead's better nature. "Listen, Cuphead. It's ok if you don't feel like talking to me, but...just know that I'm always here for you whenever you need it. I'm not gonna make you do anything you don't want to. I..." Mugman's voice quivered a bit. "I just don't want you to feel like you gotta be all alone." At last, Cuphead looked up at his brother, his expression switching from dullness to sudden concern. Although he was referring to Cuphead in his offer of emotional support, it was a subtle, yet clear, sign of the same desire on Mugman's part as well. He may have sounded calm and collected in his words, but they were drowned out from the stronger signs of loneliness and misery in his facial and body language. After a moment of staring longingly at his brother, Cuphead's face winced and twitched with anxiety, his clenched fists shaking on the table. "M-Mug, I...I-I uh..." Just when it seemed like he was ready to explode, Cuphead swallowed hard, forcing himself to regain his former composure. "D-Don't worry, Mug. We'll both be all right. I just...I need some time to think." At that, Cuphead excused himself from the table, heading back upstairs. Mugman's eyelids rose in bewilderment. He wasn't sure whether to feel hurt from Cuphead walking away when he needed help, or worried for his stability after just seeing him fight so hard with himself. This sense of uncertainty became the norm over the next few days. The boys remained close, refusing to leave either one home alone for any reason. Ironically, despite such closeness, it was this same concern that also made them keep their distance. Although they deeply desired each other's companionship during this time of grief, something in their heads made them reluctant to act on it. Cuphead continued to isolate himself and battle his internal conflict while Mugman stayed away out of respect for his brother's time to "think." It was a paradox of perfectly painful proportions, and they both prayed that it would soon part. Fortunately for Cuphead and Mugman, they didn't spend the week in completely shut out from the world. Once in a while, a friend or two would stop by, and ask the boys how they had been doing. Mugman was thankful and accepting of any company that was offered to him. Occasionally, there was activity involved, such as playing chess with Werner, Beppi fashioning a balloon animal bouquet, and even Djimmi performing some magic tricks. Most of the time, though, Mugman felt just as, if not more, satisfied with simply sitting around and talking, whether to listen to advice or have his friends hear him out. It may not have felt like the same sort of love and caring that Elder Kettle provided, but it definitely lifted Mugman's spirits knowing he still had so many people to look after him. Although his friends offered this same comfort to Cuphead, he remained adamant in his desire to be left in solitude, which was starting to worry Mugman and the others. It wasn't as though they felt he was grieving in the wrong way; it was that, perhaps, Cuphead's self-imposed isolation was beginning to do more harm than good. Taking the time to contemplate and collect one's thoughts is an important part of the grieving process. In Cuphead's case, however, the extent to which he'd spent so much time alone left a greater impression that he wasn't allowing himself to be with anyone. He was never fond of asking for help, as it went against his self-image of being an independent, confident go-getter in virtually any task at hand. Never did Cuphead ever realize that coping with death and loss was going to be the biggest challenge he'd ever faced, enough to make fighting the Devil look tame. ~~~~ Five days later, Mugman felt enough was enough. As Cuphead sat solemnly on the swing set, staring off into the sky, his brother approached him in a manner that was both nervous and assertive, trying as delicately as possible to address the glaring elephant in the room. "C-C-Cuphead," Mugman uttered. "A-Are you ready to finally talk now?" Cuphead sighed, his head now facing down. On any other day, Mugman would've rightfully taken this as a subtle, yet clear, "no." Nonetheless, he could no longer stand wallowing in hesitation, and remained persistant. "Cuphead, please. We can't keep going on like this." Mugman sat on the adjacent swing. "If we don't hear each other out, then w-we'll be too sad to eat, play, or do pretty much anything." Cuphead remained still, but his face made a grimace, his eyes shutting tight as they brimmed with tears. His mind was practically screaming at every muscle in his body to let him walk away again, or, at the very least, allow for any sort of movement beyond trembling and staggering breathing. Alas, the inner turmoil that had been festering inside Cuphead had now brought him into a state of psychological paralysis. All the anxiety, sadness, and loneliness he'd been trying to brush off had now ensnared him like quicksand. Noticing the rising tension, Mugman slowly reached his hand for that of his brother. "Cuphead, what's the matter? I wanna help you." The moment Mugman lay one finger on his hand, Cuphead suddenly found the strength to become mobile again. With a deep breath and a heavy gulp, he jerked up from his swing, staring down at his startled sibling. "I'm sorry, Mug," he answered firmly, "I'm sorry I've been so distant. I didn't mean to make you feel like I didn't care about you or anything." "Aw, Cuphead, you didn't-" Mugman stopped. His heartfelt response immediately froze from the sudden chill in his brother's voice. "But...but I think I finally know how to fix everything, and get our lives back to the way they were. I'm..." He paused, mustering the last bit of strength to speak his mind. "I'm gonna get Elder Kettle back!" Mugman gasped. "Cuphead, no! Y-you can't do that! Elder Kettle is dea-" "I KNOW!" Cuphead screamed, taking a few breaths to regain stability in his voice. "I mean, he may be now, b-but as long as we have things like ghosts and angels and soul contracts in this world, I am never gonna rule out the possibility that he could come back!" Mugman stood beside Cuphead, a familiar feeling of danger creeping inside him. "Cuphead, for once, be reasonable! Y-You almost gambled our souls for the Devil; who knows what'll happen if you-" "Reasonable?!" Cuphead shouted, taken aback. "Why don't you, for once, be willing to take a risk for something you want? We've spent way too much time with Elder Kettle to just give up on him now! Don't you even want to see him again?!" "Of course I do!" Mugman's voice started hardening as well. "But this...i-it just doesn't feel right!" "Fine, be that way! Sit here at home, and do nothing like a coward!" Cuphead paused. Mugman's expression looked like a twisted combination of hurt and enraged. As he turned his back on him, Cuphead softened his tone a bit. "Trust me, Mug. This is the only way we're gonna be happy again. And don't worry; I won't let you down. I won't stop until I've set everything right for all three of us!" The second he finished that declaration, Cuphead smoke-dashed away, making a beeline for the woods of Inkwell Isle I. Mugman tried hurriedly to catch up with him. "Cuphead, wait! Come back!" Unfortunately, it wasn't long before the forest became too dense with foliage to safely smoke-dash any farther. Before he knew it, Cuphead was already out of sight. Mugman's mind turned into an emotional roller coaster. Knowing his brother's hasty nature, he simply knew that what Cuphead had proposed was another one of his terrible ideas. Granted, much of Inkwell Isles' laws of nature didn't make sense to begin with. After all, this was a place where a queen bee could summon floating triangles, a giant mermaid could live while decapitated, and, as Cuphead had pointed out, there were even many ghosts and skeletons roaming freely in their afterlife! Nevertheless, nothing along such lines had appeared to come to fruition in Elder Kettle's case. If he wasn't meant to be seen among the living, it was most likely that, like everything else in Inkwell Isle, it was better to not question it, and simply accept it as part of reality. The last time Cuphead tried to defy that rule, the Devil very nearly took their heads. Also, despite the danger he knew would be at hand, there was a part of Mugman that wondered why he should bother saving Cuphead at all? How dare he accuse him of not caring about their beloved grandfather! He was every bit as upset over the loss as his brother was; how does wanting to move forward make him a coward? This was a new low, even for someone who carelessly gambled both their souls to the Devil. If Cuphead were to suffer, it's what he deserves for being such a jerk...right? Mugman then shook his head, rationality and common sense catching up with him. Cuphead's in trouble, he spoke in his mind. None of these arguments matter right now. I gotta make sure he stays safe, now more than ever. Not hesitating a minute longer, Mugman followed the path his brother took, his tear-soaked eyes now glaring with determination. An unnerving aura permeated the isles as a blood-red sunset turned Mugman's body into a bold silhouette. As much as he wanted to put his mental turmoil to rest, he had to put his grief aside if he wanted to keep family from getting any smaller than it already was.

(To be continued)

#cuphead #mugman #ask cups and casinos #askcupsandcasinos #elder kettle #feels #angst #grief #fan fiction #fanfic #the devil #king dice #hilda berg #cagney carnation

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samyelbanette · 6 years

Text

Las Flores

Today is Day 18 of Yu Gi Oh 5Ds Month 2018 - it’s Ruka’s day! This story takes place several years after the events of the series, when she and Rua are teenagers. It features a rarepair/crack ship I have for her. But, you’ll have to read it to see what it is. ;)

“Ruka-chan!” smiled the girl at the next desk. “When class is over, do you want to go to the cafe by the station with me?”

“Oh, not today, Patty-san,” Ruka shook her head.

“But, they have a new parfait!” the blonde protested.

“I know, I want to try it another day,” Ruka explained. “But, today, I’m going to visit my brother.”

“At Duel Academy?” the classmate guessed.

“That’s right,” Ruka nodded. “I’m proud of Rua-kun, for getting accepted into the upper division program.”

“You could’ve gotten in too, y’know,” Patty frowned. “When we were in the lower division together, you were really good at dueling!”

“That was when we were kids,” Ruka shrugged. “I transferred to this school for a reason.”

“I only applied here, because I failed the dueling test,” Patty confessed.

“I didn’t even take the entrance exam,” Ruka revealed.

“What?!” Party gasped. “Why not?”

“I have no interest in going pro,” Ruka sighed. “I had quite enough of dueling,when I was younger…”

And risking life and limb to save the world, she recalled. I don’t miss being a Signer. Rua-kun and I could’ve died before we even made it out of the fifth grade.

“So, what are you going to go to college for?” Patty wondered.

“I’m not sure yet,” Ruka replied, contemplative. “Maybe I’ll be a doctor, like Aki-sempai. After all, doctors saved my life, when I slipped into a coma, thirteen years ago…”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” Patty winced.

“No, it’s alright,” Ruka shrugged. “I’ll meet you at the cafe tomorrow, ok?”

**********************************************************************

An hour later, Ruka was walking towards the track where Duel Academy students did their D-Wheel practice.

“Rua-san!” she heard an unfamiliar voice shout. “Duel me again!”

“No way,” Ruka’s brother replied. “I beat you fair and square.”

“Just one rematch!” the boy pleaded.

“Oh, hi, Ruka-chan,” Rua greeted, coming around the corner. He was in his new racing suit, which their distant parents had sent him, to congratulate him on his admission.

Trailing behind him was the owner of the other voice, a young man with tanned skin, and dark hair. Ruka felt like she had seen him somewhere before, but she couldn’t place where.

“That’s your sister, Rua-san?” the boy gaped. “Ah, she’s pretty!”

Ruka blushed.

“Hey, stay away from her, man,” Rua warned, narrowing his eyes.

“Sorry, I should introduce myself,” the boy apologized. “I’m Kiryu West.”

“K-Kiryu?” Ruka repeated. Like Yusei’s boyfriend?

“Kiryu Kyosuke is my father,” West laughed. “Well, adoptive father. He took me and my sister, Nico, in after our biological father passed away.”

I remember Yusei-oniisan telling me that Kiryu-san adopted two children, Ruka realized. But, I never thought I would meet them here in Neo Domino City.

“I moved from Satisfaction Town to Neo Domino, after the Academy offered me a scholarship,” West explained. “Rua-san is in my Advanced Synchro Summon class!”

“We have our first test on Monday,” Rua grinned, “so we’re practicing!”

“And you actually won the practice duel, Rua-kun?” Ruka asked.

“Don’t say actually like you’re surprised!” Rua protested, turning red.

West cracked up. “She dragged you, Rua-san!”

“When we were growing up,” Ruka explained, “I was better at classic dueling than he was.”

I even got invited to participate in the Fortune Cup, Ruka recalled. Then again, that may have been less about my skills, and more about Godwin-san trying to determine whether or not I was a Signer.

“I would love to duel you, Ruka-san!” West said eagerly.

“Oh, I don’t really play anymore,” Ruka denied. “And I never learned how to ride a D-Wheel.”

“I could teach you sometime,” West offered.

“She said no, brother,” a feminine voice called, coming up the walkway.

Ruka turned and saw the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. She had a scarlet flower in her gorgeous, dark, wavy hair. Her dress was the color of sunset.

“You must be….Kiryu Nico?” Ruka realized.

“I did not take Kiryu Kyosuke’s legal name,” Nico corrected. “My real father was Sergio Flores. I am Nico Flores.”

“You’re such a rebellious teenager, Oneechan,” West grumbled. “Kiryu-oniisama raised us since I was ten and you were twelve, didn’t he?”

That’s about the same age that Rua-kun and I were during the Signer War, Ruka blinked.

“He’s been giving me a hard time lately,” Nico pouted. “So, I came all the way from Satisfaction Town to visit you!”

“Nico-oneechan, did you even tell Kiryu-oniisama where you were going?” West wondered. “Or did you run away from home?”

“I visited Yusei-san when I first got here,” Nico shrugged. “I told him to phone Kiryu and tell him I was safe.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he jumps on his D-Wheel as soon as Yusei calls him,” West sighed, “and comes to drag you home.”

“He should have listened to me about the shop!” Nico argued.

“Shop?” Ruka repeated, confused.

Nico turned to look at the twins, as if she’d just realized that they were there.

“Uh, hi,” Ruka said awkwardly, extending her hand. “I’m Morikoya Ruka, and this is my brother, Rua. He’s West’s classmate.”

“Ah, uh, pleased to meet you, Morikoya-san,” Nico stammered. “I’m sorry you had to overhear our family drama…”

“We’re both ‘Morikoya-san’, so just call her Ruka so we know who you’re talking to,” Rua suggested bluntly. “So, what was that shop you mentioned?”

“You don’t have to tell us, if you don’t want to,” Ruka interjected. Rua-kun is so rude sometimes, it’s embarrassing.

“It’s called the Classy Ass Flower Shop,” West said, equally straightforward. No wonder he and Rua became friends.

“I...well, I would want to change the name,” Nico cringed. “The flower shop...well, it originally belonged to a terrible woman, named Barbara.”

“Barb-san kidnapped us, when we were kids!” West remembered. “We were tied to a post, and Kiryu-oniisama and Yusei-san, and their friends rescued us!”

“That must have been traumatizing,” Ruka said sympathetically.

“No, it was awesome!” West chuckled. “It made me want to become a strong duelist, just like them!”

“The point is,” Nico clarified, “after Barbara was arrested by Security, the flower shop was closed down. The building’s been collecting dust, all this time. It’s a reminder of bad times, for many residents of Satisfaction Town. Kiryu wants to tear it down.”

“That’s understandable,” Rua nodded.

“But, I want the flower shop to reopen!” Nico insisted. “I’ve grown so many beautiful blossoms in my garden, and I want to sell them!”

“Growing flowers in a desert?” Ruka marveled. “Isn’t that difficult?”

“The flower that blooms in adversity,” Nico smiled, “is the most rare and beautiful of all.”

“You stole that from Mulan,” West teased.

“I-It’s true, though!” Nico reddened. “Plants have to overcome so many obstacles, to bloom in the place we call home. If my plants can overcome adversity, then I feel like maybe….so can I.”

A lot of crazy things happened during her childhood, Ruka considered. And now she wants to move past it, and be a normal teenage girl. I can relate. A lot.

“I agree with you, Nico-san,” Ruka said encouragingly, smiling at the pretty girl. “You should open your flower shop. And if I ever visit Satisfaction Town, I will definitely buy one of your blooms.”

“R-really, Mori….I mean, Ruka-san?” Nico blushed.

“Really,” Ruka grinned. “But, while you’re here, visiting us….there’s a cafe downtown, that my friend says is really good. Would you like to split a parfait with me?”

#ygo5dsmonth2018 #my fic #rua and ruka #yugioh 5ds #nico and west

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kodyshivblog · 7 years

Text

Why I have PTSD

While speaking with my therapist yesterday morning, I confided in her that, out of all of the traumatic events I experienced throughout my childhood, I believe one of them did the most damage. Of course, there’s always an accumulative affect when it comes to trauma—a stacking effect that, once it reaches its peak, eventually causes the overall structure to come crumbling down. Most of these events I refuse to speak about in an open forum, as I feel they’ll contribute to nothing but heartbreak and conflict. I will, however, detail the one event that I feel affected me the most adversely.

So, without further ado, I present to you:

Why I have PTSD.

I grew up in a small town in the middle of Southeastern Idaho, where any difference could either ostracize or make you an easy target. Be it your religion (or lack thereof,) your weight, your appearance, your disabilities (as minor as they may be,) anything could be used against you to make you feel as though you were small. The kids were mean, as some would be fit to say, and once settled upon you like a pack of angry wolves, they wouldn’t often let you get away.

I’ll forego the meatier details of the bullying I experienced throughout my early childhood for the sake of brevity. What I will say, however, was that I was picked on mercilessly—be it for my weight, the fact that I wasn’t Mormon, the fact that I had acne, glasses, an odd group of friends and, at the time, was struggling to figure out whether or not I was gay. I went through this from about the second grade (when I was seven) all the way up until I was eventually driven out of school when I was fifteen.

Yes. I said DRIVEN.

The event that would ultimately change my life for the worst began on an early evening in April—when, while walking outside to accompany my father and younger brother to the local fast food establishment to get ice cream cones, I was confronted by the sight of a police cruiser in our driveway. Lights on, officers standing, we approached with confusion only for one of them to ask, “Is Kody here?”

“I’m here,” I replied.

“Is something wrong?” my father then asked.

“We’re here to investigate reports that you posted a death threat against [REDCACTED] High School on MySpace.”

I froze. LITERALLY froze. My heart seemed to stop beating, the blood in my veins chilled. I could do nothing more than stare.

The officer then said the one thing I never wanted to hear:

“We have proof that you posted a death threat against [REDACTED] High School on MySpace.”

I couldn’t believe it—could not, absolutely, one-hundred-percent believe it. I’d never done any such thing—would never in my life ever conceive of threatening someone in such a way—but there they were, two officers, standing there, declaring something I could not even imagine.

That was when they continued by saying, “Let’s go inside.”

My mother—who had been drawn by the attention from flashing lights outside in the descending darkness—could only watch and stare as my father, my little brother, and myself led the two police officers up to our front porch, then nod as they explained the situation and let themselves inside. At the time, we were too shellshocked to ask about a warrant, too scared to refuse access when we could’ve been able to, too intimidated to even begin to think to call a lawyer. The situation, as grim as it happened to be, skewed all sense of thought. So we let them in.

And thus the interrogation began.

Most of those first two hours are a blur to me. I remember simply sitting on the living room couch while the two officers drilled me on the aspects of my high school life. Having already accessed my MySpace account, they were privy to all sorts of information—including whom I talked to online, whom I interacted with, what groups I had been invited to. They kept claiming that they had proof that I had posted this death threat even though they would not produce it, and though I tried to access my computer at the time, it was slow as hell (and in hindsight, likely infected with a virus to make it that slow.) Thus: there was no way to produce my MySpace page for them to comb through.

At one point, an officer pulled me aside—away from the eyes of my parents—and said, “Just admit it. It’ll make things easier.”

“But I didn’t do it,” I replied.

That was when it only got worse.

No less than ten minutes later, an agent from the FBI walked through the door.

Thus began the next two hours of torture.

I was, at another point during the interrogation, pulled away from my parents by the FBI agent and asked whether or not I had anything I would like to tell him. Completely isolated from my parents, I could do little more than stammer out that there was nothing I could tell him, no leads I could give. He confided in me that this report had come from a school bus filled with kids on the way back from an after-hours field trip, and that was the moment I immediately knew that this was a practical joke—an anonymous ‘tip’ from someone who wished to destroy my life. Shortly thereafter, we returned to where my parents and the other police officers were and my interrogation continued. They worked to dismantle my family computer, seized the jump drive which held all of my life’s writing, then departed the home.

By the time it was all over, four hours had passed from the police officers’ initial arrival to the time they and the FBI agent had left.

Thus began their investigation into the matter, and the hell of not knowing what they might find that would come soon after.

During this time, which stretched over the course of two weeks, I was subjected to extreme anxiety—first because I irrationally feared that they would somehow find something to show that I had done it (even though I hadn’t,) then because I feared they would lose everything I had ever written. At one point they called my mother and tried to claim that one of the stories I’d written—which featured a CARRIE-esque destruction of a fictional high school—was proof enough that I hated school and had an agenda against the local high school. My mother, in response, claimed that it was simply a story and nothing more, and as such left it at that.

I wasn’t allowed to go back to school during this time—and was encouraged not to do so by the principal himself, whose thinking was that: if someone was willing to go this far to pull a prank, who was to say that they wouldn’t resort to physical violence?

I was still allowed to attend driver’s education, however (which was sponsored by the high school.) It was here I learned, from a fellow classmate, that a ‘rumor about me posting a death threat to the entire school’ was floating around campus—which, according to the officers who interrogated me, was ‘not supposed to be happening.’ A friend was even threatened to be charged with ‘impeding a police investigation’ when she tried to get to the bottom of the rumor to try and find out who spread it.

After those two horrible weeks were over—and after I was cleared of any wrongdoing—I finished out the last of my coursework for the year at home. Teachers offered condolences over the act that had occurred, offering me support in folded and stapled messages in schoolwork they sent home or by giving me passing grades simply for my prior attendance, and life continued on as it normally would—but not for me.

No.

The damage had already been done, the act already perpetrated, the person whom reported the case never found. I was told—in no uncertain details—that they could ‘probably, possibly’ find the person who anonymously reported the call, but by that point was so emotionally and mentally exhausted by the ordeal that I just wanted it all over.

So it ended—then and there, without resolution.

Come time the next school year came around, I tried to attend a high school the next city over. As I mentioned, however, the damage had already been done. I lasted all of three days before extreme paranoia that a similar event would happen eventually caused me to call home, crying my eyes out and faking sick, and never go back again.

I was homeschooled until sixteen, then dropped out when I couldn’t take the back and forth struggle of online schooling when teachers would not respond to queries and my grades began to fail. It would be two years—when, finally away from that area and down in Texas—that I would apply to take and then receive my GED.

It’s been around ten years to the date since this occurred, and I still sometimes have nightmares over what occurred. The fact that I never allowed it to be resolved (or attempt to be resolved) still bothers me at times, as that person should have been punished for doing what they did to me, but there’s little I can do about it now.

So… there you have it.

Though many events throughout my childhood (some spoken of previously, others not) contributed to my multiple mental illnesses, this was likely, and probably undoubtedly, the one that affected me the most.

#Mental Illness #PTSD #GAD #OCPD #Bullying

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