#{a starter for you!}

[1armed-and-dangerous]

He’d grown used to the bustle of the farmer’s market. The whitenoise of brandless plastic and paper bags. Rows of popup white canopied tents, baskets filled with organic lye soap, local raw honey and vegetables grown on cityscape rooftops. The constant whitenoise chatter of the people as they haggled for the best prices reminded him of his time in Romania - empty. Unsure of who he was, but looking for a scrap of it in the food market stalls in the early morning hours.

It felt right.

Familiar.

Vague memories of doing this when he was a young boy danced at the edges of his mind. Teasing, but leaving him with nothing solid to grasp. The markets reminded him of a home he couldn’t remember. A family he was certain he had.

Putting his hands in the dirt made him feel productive. Like he was creating something instead of destroying it, and he’d come today with a sack full of fresh tomatoes and bell peppers to trade for whatever was available today.

He wasn’t much of a cook, but he’d been learning and he had a recipe in mind to try for dinner tonight, but it required turnip greens, kale and mushrooms - so he was on the lookout for someone with a stall selling the aforementioned ingredients as he wandered casually through the crowds of local chefs bargaining for fresh ingredients and early-birds like himself beating the crowds for the best selections to trade with.

@agentbrompton

[skywxrdbound-blog]

bodaciousbotany liked your post: [[ While I manage to get some things d...

     "Whew that was a close one!" Barry rubbed the nape of his neck. Barry was dashing through the town hoping to make good time and reach the pokemon center. Though if he hadn't payed attention to where he was dashing, he almost collided with the gym leader. "Had I crashed into you, You should expect a good fine for any collateral damage!" He joked with a with a smirk on his face.

[itstheselfproclaimedalpha]

{I Was Left Bloody and Battered,}

        He couldn’t remember how the fight started; all he remembered was that alphas had surrounded him.

They hadn’t just attacked him either, they had ripped him apart, ripped him open, and Peter knew for certain that he was going to die on his own, out in the middle of the woods, and nobody would be there to even find him. He couldn’t even cry out due to the blood clogging his mouth, and for once, he wished he could just drown in it. He wanted the pain to be gone, to be nonexistent. He had felt emotional pain and grief beyond his body’s capabilities and now this—

Peter wondered if it would be easier once he was gone. If he would get to see his sister again, thank her for everything she had taught him about his abilities, apologize for the horrors he placed on his family’s name. He wondered if anyone would miss him, too. Most likely not. His final death would probably be celebrated. He would probably be tossed aside, not even properly disposed of, and everyone would move on with their lives without the burden he placed on them. He just wanted it to end. All of this pain, both sides of it.

After long, agonizing breaths, he finally peeled his eyes open. The sun was surely setting. He didn’t have much time left, he gauged, since the wounds weren’t really healing and he was losing blood fast. There were several long gashes down his chest, keeping him in ribbons, and there were deep bites along his side, legs, and neck. What had he done to deserve this? He wouldn’t wish this on his worst enemy. If he were to kill someone, he would make it quick. Leaving someone to rot out in a field where they can’t be found was just insulting, even for Peter.

Moments passed by that felt like hours.

He lifted his hand up off his chest to gingerly place against the forest floor, using what strength he had to sit up. It hurt like—well, it hurt like hell. Fire and salt in his wounds, it’s what it felt like. He hadn’t felt this bad when he was torched alive, both times, so this was something in a whole new realm of pain. It took everything in him not to pass out as he moved to his knees, then to his feet, and he stumbled aimlessly until he crashed against the thick stock of a tree, holding himself upright.

If he could get to Deaton, maybe Deaton could help him.

He didn’t trust anyone else, really, and he had no strength to make it further than the vet’s office. Slowly but surely, he made his way towards the reserve entrance, keeping his ears peeled for the alphas to return. He didn’t quite think they were certain he was dead, so he was scared out of his mind to have them come back and find him hobbling towards his car, still alive and kicking.

After what felt like ages, he finally saw his car. It was the most relieving thought. At least if he died in his car, someone would pass by and see it, and they would find him there too. Easing himself inside, he took a long overdue rest and sunk into the chair, not even caring that he was getting blood literally everywhere he made contact with. A new wind of determination washed over him, and soon, he was on the road. His foot was shaking too much to stabilize his acceleration, but he found it kind of easy since nobody seemed to be on the roads at the moment.

They were smart to stay inside tonight with alphas on the loose.

Once he parked outside the building, he opened his door slowly and almost fell out of his seat while trying to get out. Luckily Deaton was there to see him, probably smell him too, and he was helping him up and into the building as fast as humanly possible. Peter’s consciousness was fading in and out and the doctor could tell by the way he leaned in to his grasp, almost passing out and then jolting right back up. He avoided all the questions Deaton practically screamed at him, because, he wasn’t in the mood for talking.

Plus, he kind of couldn’t muster up any words.

The doctor was asking him who he needed to contact, running through names of his allies like his mouth was on rapid fire. Peter felt bad for him, he probably hadn’t seen injuries this bad in a long time, if at all. His ears perked up and so did his head as he heard a familiar name.Peter conjured up all his energy and nodded fiercely at it.

Scott.

Call Scott.

McCall could help him, right? McCall was a true alpha and maybe he could help save him somehow. Deaton understood and in seconds, he had his phone in hand and was frantically pleading on the phone with Scott, telling him all he could, though he hadn’t the foggiest of what happened. Before Peter blacked out against the wall, he could see Deaton trying to give him some sort of reassurance.

“Scott is on his way.”