Emotional Baggage - Tumblr Posts

Whumptober Prompt #2 and #6- Explosion and Dragged Away

@winedark-whump you wanted to know who Sam was, and how he died.  Your wish is granted.

A high pitched ringing was going back in forth from one side of his head to the other. He blinked slowly, the darkness mixing in with colors, until he could finally distinguish the sky from the buildings under it. The ringing shifted, assaulting both ears now that he could focus better. He tried to pull himself up, they needed to go… somewhere. He wasn’t sure exactly where but he knew it wasn’t here. Here had fallen debris all around, lots of little fires, tons of smoke, and was that blood? Not a good place to be. He tried to lift himself by his arms but fell to his left side. He looked down and saw dirt. He frowned. Dirt? Shouldn’t there be something there that’s not dirt? His eyes slowly traveled upwards and saw what was left of his left arm. Memory hit him like a freight train.

Ever since Arrow had lost her Hero, she’d become almost as fanatic as the rest of them. Phoenix and Mirror Mirror had just been causing a little mayhem, nothing too big, just a casual museum heist. They’d hoped not to run into any Heroes but together, they were unstoppable so it didn’t really matter. It seemed, however, that someone was dumb enough to try.

“Fucking lousy criminals.” Arrow sneered, Michael catching her first arrow from up in the rafters of the museum. He knew that was merely a warning shot, Arrow always hit her targets. “Always have to ruin everyone else’s day. This artwork is supposed to inspire love for humanity, for life. And taking it just leave those without. How cruel.”

Michael clenched his fist, her arrow exploding in his hand. He sneered right back at her, “Lousy Heroes. Always ruining our day.”

Arrow rolled her eyes and notched another arrow, the tip glinting in the light. Michael snarled, recognizing one of her cracked diamond arrows. Those were a bitch to get out, as if you weren’t careful, the diamond would shatter in you, forcing you to go to a hospital or risk having diamonds enter your bloodstream.

Michael grabbed a button out of his pocket, he always kept spares in case he needed a weapon, or more importantly, if one popped off his corset. He charged up, and threw it upwards. He wasn’t Arrow, with the gift of impossible accuracy, but he was a pretty good shot. She dived as the button exploded, using the rafters as a gymnastics bar, swinging herself down to their level.

He motioned for Sam to take the props and leave the ringers behind, while he charged straight at Arrow. He had to admit, some of the best parts of a classic museum heist is leaving the fake artwork behind so cops have no idea what they’ve stolen.

She jumped back at his straightforward attack, knowing he only needed one slip up to get all five fingers around her. He wouldn’t kill the little shit, but singeing her a little wouldn’t be too bad.

Suddenly, there was a rope around his neck.

“We’re taking this outside so you don’t break shit!” Arrow shouted, throwing him through a window.

His back hit the glass first, and he felt it crack underneath his weight. The shards embedded themselves in his back and legs as the force propelled him through the now shattered window. Somehow, he landed on his right foot before crumpling to the ground. Pain flirted with his body but never truly stayed in one place too long so he knew nothing was broken. Trying to ignore the bruises forming all over him, he pulled himself up, knowing in the back of his head it had been her ability to accurately throw him that had saved him from permanent damage.

A sharp cry brought his attention back to the shattered window. Sam had Arrow pinned to the edge, nearly succeeding in throwing her off. She threw a punch Sam easily deflected, tried to kick Sam’s feet out from under him which he easily blocked, then grabbed an arrow from her quiver and sprayed him with a foamy substance, which caused him to pull back and which sent herself over the edge. She grabbed onto one of the banners advertising the very painting Michael was stealing, flipping and landing without any injury to her perfect high-heels.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t want to break shit, you seemed to have no problem throwing me out a window.” Michael said, grabbing a couple pieces of broken glass around him. He charged them up slowly, knowing glass was a very dangerous weapon for him, as too much power would cause the glass to break and simply latch onto the nearest surface.

“Better to replace a window than mourn a priceless Monet.” Arrow fired back, notching another arrow.

“It’s Mo-ney, you idiot.” Michael jeered as it were a schoolyard tiff. “He was French, the T is silent.”

“Whatever!” She shouted back, clearly embarrassed. She fired her first arrow, easily and quickly notching another, and Michael threw his first piece. They hit each other straight on, resulting in a small explosion. Arrow narrowed her eyes at him, and smirked.

Then Sam hit her from behind with what was left of a nearby lamppost.

Arrow collapsed to the ground, seemingly unconscious. Michael stared.

Sam jogged over to him, and kissed him lightly. “Hey, babe.”

Michael cocked an eyebrow.

“Hmm? Oh that was easy. Once I copied her, I figured out her weakness. Hyperfocus. Don’t know if she’s ADHD but she can’t focus on the two of us at once without putting one of us on the backburner of her mind.”

“You’re the best, babe.” Michael smiled. “How’d I end up with such an amazing partner like you?”

“You’re a thief.” Sam smirked. “You stole my heart.”

“Would you still love me if I never gave it back?” Michael teased, the familiar words rolling off his tongue like raindrops off a leaf.

“I will always love you.” Sam whispered.

Michael gently kissed his fiancé. “I lo-”

Before he could finish, an arrow shaped like a boxing glove hit him in the mouth. A second with a net attached to it hit Sam, slamming him into a nearby wall. Sam’s head lolled haphazardly, blood trickling down a cut on his face.

“Sam!”

A punch to the face sent him reeling. A punch to the stomach caused him to double over. Arrow then brought her clasped fists on Michael’s neck, sending him to the ground with a grunt. A sharp stiletto dug itself into his left wrist, hitting the ligaments in between his hand and arm. Instinctively, he had let go of the piece of glass he was holding but found himself unable to stop the charge, as all five fingers were being forced upon the ground with the toe of her boot.

“You gotta let me up.” Michael gasped through the pain. “I can’t turn my power off.”

“Impossible.” Arrow snapped. “I’ve severed your median nerve and your transverse carpal ligament. There’s no way you can be using your gift. Even you’re human.”

The ground beneath the glass began to shift into a more fuchsia type color.

“Seriously!” Michael implored, panic starting to seep into his voice. “I don’t know how but I can’t turn it off! You gotta let me up!”

Arrow simply notched another arrow, this one tipped with what looked like a stunner.

“Liar.”

“Please!” Michael begged. The concrete beneath him began to crack, fuchsia energy building up underneath the surface.

“No!” Arrow screamed, and for a second, they locked eyes, and all Michael saw was a frightened child behind her mask. “All you criminals do is lie, cheat, and steal to get what you want. You can never trust a criminal. They’re incapable of trying to do anything good! Their hearts are black, their minds are corrupted, and their gifts are evil incarnate! Only those who use their gifts for the betterment of all humanity can truly have a heart!”

Unable to fight the growing power in his palm, Michael forced out a small breath. Small fissures raced down his hand, across his whole arm, bleeding raw energy. Arrow gasped at the sight, and looked at him, fear evident on her face. Helpless against what was about to happen, he simply gathered what was left of his strength. He had to release the energy before it got worse, and threatened Sam. Above all, if he got captured, if he got killed for killing a Hero, it didn’t matter. No matter what, he had to save Sam.

So, he simply… let go.

It seemed his left arm just couldn’t contain the power.

Ears still ringing, fires still burning, smoke still choking the breath out of his lungs, he forced himself to stand. He had to find Sam. They had to get out of there. He didn’t see Arrow but that doesn’t necessarily mean she was dead or gone. Heroes had a nasty habit of appearing out of nowhere when you least expect them. Horrifically off balance without his left arm, he turned to try and get a glimpse of the wall Sam had been thrown into.

He stumbled around for what seemed like an eternity, coughing up who knows what, nearly falling every two steps, until he finally found a collapsed wall with a familiar glove sticking out of it.

“Sam!” Michael shouted, and collapsed near his fiancé. Sam’s eyes were closed, with blood trickling out of his mouth, head leaning to his left side. “Sam, come on, wake up, we gotta get outta here.”

Sam didn’t stir.

You’re gonna make me do it, huh?” Michael gasped, dread settling into his stomach. “Fine but you don’t get to yell at me when we get home.”

Still nothing.

“Black is the color of my true love's hair,” Michael crooned. He wasn’t the best singer but Sam always loved it. Michael had never done it in public. It was their little secret. “His face so soft and wondrous fair, the purest eyes, and the gentlest hands, I love the ground whereon he stands, I love the ground… C’mon Sam, wake up! Please wake up!”

He shook Sam by the shoulder, and Sam’s head rolled limply to the side.

Michael screamed.

The very same lamppost that he’d used to knock out Arrow was now embedded in his skull. Blood poured from the wound, slowly, as if the motion itself had no life left.

“Sam! Please, no, Sam, please don’t be dead, please, don’t be dead.” Michael screamed. “You can’t leave me here alone. Please, I love you, Sam, I love you! I love you more than life itself! Please. You can’t be gone, you just can’t!”

“Phoenix, c’mon, you gotta get out of here.” A new voice said, tugging on his jacket. This one sounded young, and very, very scared. “You gotta move! They’re going to arrest you!”

He ignored her.

“Please, Phoenix, you’ve got to move! This is my fault, not yours. You can’t stay here!”

He whipped around, his left arm dead weight. There stood Arrow, covered in blood, bruises but with an unblemished face. She looked shell-shocked, as if unable to comprehend the reality of the situation.

“Don’t die with him. Please.”

The “please” shattered what was left of his heart. A scream escaped his lips without conscious thought, a sound he never knew he could make, and he flung the broken-hearted shell of what used to be Michael Winters upon the chest of his dead love.

“No, I’m not letting you take the fall for this. This was my doing, not yours. We’re leaving now!”

With a strength Michael didn’t know was possible, Arrow lifted him under the arms and heaved. Michael, unexpectedly limp in her arms at first, lurched away from Sam.

“No! Don’t take me from him, please, he needs me, no, no!”

“I’m sorry!” Arrow shouted, but continued to haul him away.

Little fuchsia sparks flew past his fingers and out of his stump. “Stop! Let me go! Sam, I won’t leave you! I won’t leave you, Sam, I promise! Let me go!”

He fought against her hold but she had leverage against him so all he could do was skid his feet along the road and try to elbow her as she dragged him away. He got in one good shot to her ribs, eliciting a hard cry. He went to aim for that same spot.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, then he felt a strong electrostatic charge and finally succumbed back down into the never-ending darkness.

Problem

I am not looking for anyone at this point in time, and may never look for someone ever again.

But if there comes a time when I would like to have a someone again, I may be in a pickle. Who on earth would hear any of this and not run for the hills?

This was part of the plan I'm sure.

One day I will find a good one. And then I will chase them away with my crazy.

I used to try to tell him stories about things that happened to me.  He would often roll his eyes while I was talking, sigh, and move his hand in a circular motion to say “get to the point, already.”

So I stopped trying.  And I became the thing he talked at instead.

My personality began to melt away, and I walked into social situations believing I had nothing interesting to say.  I retreated further in my head.

Later, one of his grievances with me was that I was never forthcoming, and he knew so little about my life.

Outside looking in.

A woman at work confided in me that her daughter is in an abusive relationship.  She’s telling me all of the things that I don’t want to hear myself:

 “She knows better,”  

“ I don’t get it, why won’t she listen” 

“Why would she be with someone who called her a cunt?”

She kicked her daughter out of the house in an attempt to make her ‘wake up.’  While I think this was the wrong decision, I can tell that she loves her daughter very much and is just at her wit’s end.

I know that people like me are difficult to love. I also know that loving me takes a toll on the people who do. 

I had no words of comfort or advice to ease her mind.

My woman is worried about me. Apparently I've slipped down into another hole. That's unusual for the summer months. But here we are.

I have to wonder where I would be if he hadn't wrecked havoc on me physically and mentally. I wonder how much of my brain scramble was mine to begin with

Some sketches of my character John that I did. I love how his design has developed over time. I think he looks much better than when I first drew him.