if i only had a brain

uncapped but selective event rp ad for fiyero the scarecrow. be sure to compliment him on his costume! (he isn’t wearing a costume.)

STARTER CALL ! ⚡@throughdifferenteyes​

– When you woke up in the hospital, the doctors gave you one hell of a scolding for jumping into the hole in the middle of the city. A lot about that time is still blurry in your head, but one detail you’ve held onto through all of it is something very specific you were told. They said that if it weren’t for the two people who had tried their hardest to save you, you’d certainly have died in the dark, alone. 

They mentioned that one of those people was a scarecrow. 

You’d been searching for these people based on description, in order to thank them properly. That’s why when you see a scarecrow walking along, you barrel forward as fast as you can on your crutches. You’re getting the hang of moving around in a cast, so you’re actually pretty quick! 

“Wait up!!”

You wobble to a halt in front of him, quickly taking a gulp of air in before going off. 

“I know this might sound weird, and I’m sorry if this doesn’t make any sense but- um. I woke up in the hospital about a week ago, and the doctors said that a person who looks like a scarecrow saved my life?”

You bow forward as much as you can. 

“I wanted to apologize for causing you so much trouble,” you say, wincing a bit. “I don’t know what was going through my head - mostly because I can’t remember anything from back then, but. I’m alive now, because of you. Thank you.”

They hadn’t really known what to do with him, past saving his torso from ripping off and plummetting into the hole once the kid had been secured. Fiyero hadn’t either - it would have been nice for this form to come with an instruction manual - but after some negotiations they’d decided he was free to go as soon as he was re-stuffed and stitched back together.

(He knows now that it doesn’t even hurt when he’s literally ripped apart. He wonders, briefly, if he can feel physical pain at all anymore.)

There’s a hell of a discrepancy, then, in his recovery time and that of the teenager he’d saved; he’d been told the kid would be fine, and as long as they were monitoring him to make sure he didn’t take any more pit dives it was probably best not to have a shambling heap of burlap and straw poking his - er - poking his gloves into his life. The kid will be fine. It’s not any of his business, anyway.

So it’s a bit of a shock when the kid comes to find him.

“Whoah, slow down!” Honestly, Fiyero’s afraid he’s going to tip over, bowing like that on crutches. And the bowing itself, it’s - well, things must be different here, because the sight of someone bowing to him makes him feel displaced in time and body for an uncomfortable moment.

     Self-depreciative and polite – nothing in the scarecrow’s tone suggested deceit, and Reyson reflected that he had, perhaps, been too harsh to begin with. While he still disliked the adulation that his wings ‘earned’ him, it wouldn’t do to snap at everyone who made such comment, especially in a place like this, where so much was unfamiliar. He sighed.

     “There are many here with different features than I am used to seeing in my homeland, so I cannot be certain…” he said, trying to think back to the many people he had come across in the past few weeks. There had been greyskins, for sure, and some other Laguz-like beings, but anything else was a rare enough occurrence that it didn’t immediately float to the forefront of Reyson’s recollection. It may have been in the crowded street, then, even if he had met such a person. He turned, motioning for the other to cross back into the main street.

     “As for looks, I simply do not believe credit should be given where it is not due,” he spoke as he walked, “Though I do not regret my birth-” not anymore, at least, “-neither did I have any control over its circumstances. Praise for my appearance is completely irrelevant to my strength of character… which you’ll find is much stronger than my appearance would suggest.”

     The Heron stopped at the edge of the street, staring around at the bustling crowd around them. Thankfully, while this garnered him a few curious glances, no one felt the urge to stop and stare or question him. Through the sea of unfamiliar faces, though, there wasn’t any who met the description the scarecrow had given. He paused, considering. “Deep green skin… She would be uncommon, even for this city. I will keep an eye out for you. Is she a friend or an enemy?”

Heh. Confident, wasn’t he? But it brought out Fiyero’s first genuine smile of the encounter, hearing the bird-man assert his own strengths so assuredly. Really, that was probably a healthy level of confidence - though it was hard to tell, given his own lack of experience with the concept.

“That seems entirely fair,” he answered, nodding along, “and I’m sure you’re as strong as you say. I still think beauty should be complimented when one notices it, but perhaps it should be tempered with something deeper?”

[ Shooting Star ] 

– You don’t remember blacking out, but you do remember the why the sharp spark of panic sends you flying to your feet. The trees that had surrounded the clearing where the fight had gone down are gone, replaced by stars bared clear over high above city skies. But they aren’t what you’re paying attention to as you whip your head around to check where you are, 

Kacchan. 

They got the upper hand, and he- in his last seconds he had told you to stay back, to let him go. But you can move now, you can run. For some reason, your body isn’t damaged like it was before. Why? You don’t understand what’s happening, and you also don’t take time to think about it. Because when your head turns around you see it. A massive void, not all too dissimilar to the one you saw your childhood rival pass through. A flicker of hope that it’s not too late, that you haven’t lost yet. 

Your legs move before your mind cobbles together a strategy. If they knocked him out interim, or incapacitated him in some way he might not be able to fly both of you out. Your quirks were broadcasted after all. But they don’t know everything about you. 

You picture a diving board, and how Gran Torino launches himself off a wall. You just need something sturdy enough to use to spring you both upwards. You can do this. You have to. And there’s no time to lose. 

“Sorry – but I need to borrow this!” 

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You activate One For All long enough to rip a bench off the hinges keeping it tacked to the cement. Destroying public property is going to get you into a lot of trouble. But if something happens to him – no. You can’t think about that now! 

You throw the metal bench down first, and then dive headlong into the black, struggling to keep your eyes open with how fast you fall. 

Everything about falling through the dark, with your only hope of returning upwards being a bench is terrifying. But you’re determined to make sure you’re both going home today in one piece, no matter what it takes. He’d do the same for you. You know he would. That’s just the kind of person he is, the kind of person everyone in your class is aspiring to be. 

It isn’t until the pain starts that it hits you that something is wrong, and that you’re in over your head. It spreads from the center of your chest outwards, and takes your breath away. You want to scream, but your body won’t move. You’re free falling through stardust, paralyzed. 

No – no! What did you do wrong? What didn’t you factor in!? You try to inhale but it’s so cold, and all you can smell is hot metal. Is this what he’s going through right now? Is this how he feels too? Scared, and alone? Kacchan is the most stubborn fighter you know, but he’s still a kid. You both are.

Your teeth chatter as your eyes start to close, and you see them. The faces of several people you don’t know, and one you do. One that’s always believed in you, and pushed you forward. All Might. He’s just an outline, maybe even a hallucination. But amongst the stars, you can see his bony arm extend upwards, one long pointing for you to go upwards. 

There’s a sob that tries to wrack it’s way through you as you realize that you made a mistake. You failed. And if you don’t face that now, if you don’t make it out of here… you’ll die. And you won’t be able to save him. And what’s worse, he’ll blame himself. You watch the tears springing from your eyes fly upwards for a second, and then with every last ounce of your strength, try to will your body to move. 

You just barely manage to stay awake as you spin, fire up all for one in your leg, and spring upwards. You keep your arm up, ready to grab onto anything to pull yourself out. 

The ledge comes into view, but your eyes slip shut mere feet before you reach it. 

You won’t remember any of this when you wake up, or understand why only one of your legs is broken. It won’t be something that you remember not to do again. 

But in the last seconds of being awake – you swear you can feel it. Someone grabbing hold of your hand. 

“Whoah!”

The kid shoots past in a trail of green, almost knocking Fiyero down in the process. Any further protest dies on his stitched lips when he catches where those electric green eyes are laser-focused - where the kid is barrelling straight towards.

Fuck.

“Kid! Kid! Stop, for Lurline’s sake! You’re gonna get yourself killed!” Hope rises for a single moment when the runner pauses, and then turns to fear as he rips a bench from its casing, as though it’s nothing, as though it’s a convenient weapon - but instead of throwing it at him, the kid keeps running - and dives.

No. No!

Fiyero scrambles for the opening of the pit, knowing even as he trips over uncooperating feet that he’s far, far too late. Why is all he can think as he grips the edge of that terrible gap; why, why, he’s so young, why -

There’s a light.

There’s a light and it’s the same green as before and the child shooting up, up, and missing, and the light going out as he starts to fall again -

and Fiyero doesn’t even think before lunging forward to grab his wrist, even when the kid’s momentum and the nothing that is his weight combine to send them both downward -

until he jams his legs underneath a block of stone the kid ripped free and they jerk to a stop with an ominous rip.

He’s panting. He doesn’t need to be. The kid isn’t moving. The kid isn’t awake. He’s going to rip apart, and they’ll both fall, and this will all have been for nothing.

What is a very passive aggressive gift?

*_________

“Well, now, that depends on how far you want to take things! The classic is something for hygiene, but if you really want to make a point, you should take into account the flaws of this person and give them a gift that’s meant to help improve that particular flaw.”

     Reyson’s wings quirked in irritation. Magically animated being or not, this ‘scarecrow’ certainly exhibited the typical Beorc flattery leveled towards one of his kind. He had never understood why white wings and a delicate figure mattered so much to them. It wasn’t like that ever did anything good for his family, in the long run. His brother had been kidnapped for his appearance. And their apparent beauty in the eyes of the Beorc certainly didn’t stop the Massacre from happening.

     “My wings and the magic I use are both products of my heritage, as one born of the Heron tribe,” he said curtly, “Neither warrants praise, since I didn’t do anything to earn them. I would not lose any part of myself even if the world considered us Herons both unsightly and worthless.” Alright, that might be going a bit far. He had no way of predicting the outcome of a scenario like that, after all, but he did hope that his beauty was not the sole motivating factor behind anyone’s kindness.

     Still, Reyson supposed there were no real ulterior motives behind this one’s comments. If he were speaking the truth, it was likely he had still been getting used to the world he had come from, not to mention this one. It would be nice to receive help in such a time, the Heron thought, recalling his own disorienting first week in this city. Not that such an observation, or the twinge of empathy in his heart, meant he owed the other anything. Still, he did make the effort to stop glaring when he next spoke.

     “…Unless there’s something else you needed, I’ll take my leave.” There. Honest, open offer.

Oops. Looks like he’d stepped on a sore spot. Flattery might get you most places, but not everywhere - even if you spoke it like a second language. Fiyero would have to move carefully here if he didn’t want to leave a lasting negative impression (and it was important, of course, not to, especially given his starting disadvantage).

“You don’t believe beautiful people should be told they’re beautiful?” he asked. Maybe it was skirting too close to the line, but he was curious - maybe his own overinflated ego of days past had been helped along by excessive compliments, but his experiences with Elphaba had shown him the flipside of that. Most people liked to be told they were attractive, even if they themselves didn’t believe it.

That was enough indulging of his curiosity, though. “Regardless, I think I’ve offended you - I’m sorry twice over now, for making you uncomfortable. I’m afraid I haven’t much experience in speaking to others yet, and even less in the way of brains to consider how to do so.”

“Given all the different sorts of people I’ve seen here, I’m surprised people don’t expect to see someone like you around.”

“No I’ve… I’ve heard things. And plus, most of the adults seem like depraved lunatics looking to kill people for the Hades of it. So you definitely do. I was raised in a world where you really couldn’t survive without a weapon.” Leo pats his hair briefly to make sure he didn’t catch fire from the freight. Good, he hadn’t. “Uh. Sorry about that dude.”

This place is a bit of a shithole, isn’t it? Then again, the kid being from another one explains why he’s making weapons so young. Eesh.

((im crying im so fucking sorry. X’D befriend jon. when hes not being a ball of anger hes pretty nice to anything and everything

Well isn’t that gonna haunt your nightmares for a while. He stiles a scream and barely manages to keep from pulling out a hammer. “I! Um. Probably??? That would require more of my magical side than just skill but I’ll see what I can do??”