#ragetamed

@ragetamed

He’s not sure what to do, but he’ll try.

@ragetamed

                    if the guardians were to see him now ( barring ganthet, of course ), they’d probably express some form of emotion towards his current decision to save a red lantern. emotion of the NEGATIVE sort. could millennia-old smurf-like creatures even get heart attacks? all he knew was that he couldn’t leave the other abandoned like that on a planet filled with hostiles, not when he realized that he was from his sector. it seemed like dex-starr wasn’t the only clawed angry bird formerly from earth.

                    he’d gotten about five minutes of shut eye when the red lantern stirred from his idle position. aya had dressed most of his wounds, and what was left of his injuries would heal with time -- and if he DIDN’T try to move as soon as he woke up -- and rest. as he let the system run diagnostics, he went to check on the red lantern, leaning against the wall while he threw an understandable fit. raising his hands up in surrender, palms out, he began to explain himself. “my name is hal jordan. green lantern of space sector 2814. you’re aboard the interceptor, and we’re on a neutral planet for refuge while you rest.”

WHEN RAGE HAS SIMMERED TO A MUTED FURY THAT BEATS ; beats the the consistent rhythm of a drum that pounds his skull and pulsates in time with his ring , reminds him of his lack of life and the burden of the duty forced ‘pon him , Rankorr cannot speak . Cannot move for a slow few seconds that STRETCH beyond eternity , pain that dulls into recollection .

This was not the worst that he’s ever had .

Pain was good , he thinks ( even if it was the unhealthiest coping mechanism he could ever think of ) , makes him feel as though he were alive - - - distant dream rimmed with red and tarnished with the viscosity of blood .

The inquiry is muffled through cotton ears , licks of flames crawling over his shoulders and head before they die , clawed hands struggling to push himself to sitting . Perhaps he were dead , but destiny was rarely kind enough to grant him such bliss . Fingers curl and uncurl , digging gouges into the fertile earth .

❝ Yes ? No ? Maybe ? Can’t feel for shit . ❞ Rankorr cannot exactly recall what had happened , but it must’ve been bad enough to render him this injured , considering that he was one of the strongest of his kind . He grunts , caustic blood seeping out the corners of his mouth . ❝ Fuckin’ hell , got the damn number of the thing that hit me ? ❞

running towards a crime scene or some other catastrophic event wasn’t new to dean. his life was one disaster after another, sometimes with the hunter in the very epicenter. the nature of this event however seemed beyond dean’s scope of normal duties. 

he sees the destruction from a few miles away, flaring of light that signified power and danger ( yet dean chooses to go towards the chaos, hurtling himself into the storm without regard to his own safety ). there’s a worry settling in the winchester’s gut that maybe he’s once more finding himself in a situation where he’s severely outclassed. finding himself in a fight with entities who had more power than dean could ever hope to match. still, the hunter finds himself moving forwards, ignoring the warnings his mind is blaring.

the scene is mostly empty, save for a body that still smolders in the ruins of the makeshift battlefield. dean approaches with caution, gun raised, wondering if he’d be lucky enough that whoever was fighting ended up killing each other. certainly would be less work for the hunter to deal with in the end, even if it was a bit of a morbid wish. the body remains motionless for the most part, boots kicking at piles of dirt to make noise during his approach. the closer dean gets though, the easier it is to see their slight movements–– and were those claws ?  dean swore to himself, knowing that he was approaching something completely unknown. 

“ hey buddy ?  guessin you alive down there ?  can you walk ?  ”

If the ring had been correct, it wouldn’t have come to him - maybe another ring would or perhaps none at all. It didn’t matter really, he was long past attempting to change things or even believing that he could. 

No, Bruce Wayne Dawnbreaker, was self assured in his choices that lead him to this point. There was no changing them - even if he could? He wouldn’t, not anymore - mostly due to the fact he couldn’t go back. His world was gone… all due to his actions.

❝ That’s because there is no Green Lanterns like me, ❞  he says bluntly, deep breath being sucked in, and let out slowly, ❝ Nor are there any left where I come from or Yellow or Reds. ❞ Try as he might, Bruce couldn’t forget what he’d done that day; when he destroyed the corps entirely - including the Guardians. 

Maybe it was something he shouldn’t have done - he didn’t truly have a choice that day. If he didn’t kill them, they would have locked him away or worse. While it was true he didn’t know what he’d do the only option he saw ( at that moment in time ) was to fight and  he never thought he would have regretted it, but as time passed? As he discovered the Laughing one was wrong? Oh… he wished he could go back and change things… even if it wasn’t possible anymore.

❝ There is nothing left where i’m from because it was destroyed by a foolish mistake.❞  Odd that he’d even says something like that after all this time - more still due to the fact Dawnbreaker knew deep down there was no attempting to save his Earth. It wasn’t even meant to exist and yet…. he was still here. Still breathing… for now. 

❝ One i hope never happens again. ❞ 

if there was one thing peter could count on, it was how rankorr always managed to find a way to cheer him up. it didn’t matter if he was in the suit or otherwise, parker found himself around the red far more often than originally would have liked, and truthfully? he enjoyed every moment of it.

the simple action of the claw under his chin was unexpected, but appreciated. the other’s flesh against his own was… amusing. more so when he was taken in like this. where he wasn’t the one in complete control. 

it felt… it all felt so good. to be wanted. to be needed and it was why he decided to pay it back tenfold, leaning in himself to the kiss, and pressing his lips against rankorr’s own. the nipping only intensifying his little need for the other ( at least for the moment ) as his arms moved to wrap around the red’s torso very lightly; holding him there.... just to ensure that this was real. that this moment ( for all it was worth ) happened to be reality and not just a highly elaborate   dream.