#this song is so ArMor it’s sickening

[feelyoubehindmyeyes]

songs that sound like ArMor

[txtmetonight]

Camille 2000 ✆

call summary ⋆ ★ You're going to have a midnight dance with your lover

pairing *. * Park Sunghoon x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Fluff, Angst (Forbidden Lovers)

warnings *. Blood, Violence

call duration⋆ ★ 1.8k

a/n*. * This is a repost!! Also, this is inspired by one of my favorite songs by Piero Piccioni

You weren’t really sure of yourself right now.  

Breathing hard, your hands find purchase on a random suitor, who took your hand without your consent, twirling you around, as a way to welcome you into a dance.

Repeating dance steps; glide, spin, turn, and lean continued on and on as you dance with this stranger, or more so truthfully, many more strangers that night.  

You were starting to feel light-headed and out of breath, remembering the promise you gave to your parents; you were to find a boy by one to wed. Your vision spun as each ‘lucky’ man tried his part to win your heart, win the place you as the future ruling queen once your parents passed away from old age.

Other young women also looked for their future husband-to-be, pretty girls of high status, strutting around with a multitude of colors showering down on them. It’s an ugly–despising sight.  

Excusing yourself messily from the confused boy, you take long strides to the garden that awaits outside through the long maze of marble hallways.

Pillars upon pillars came into sight as you messily wiped away salty droplets, ruining the mascara you put on earlier, not that you cared when all your mind spun around was about your midnight lover.

The clock struck twelve, alarming surrounding crows and causing them to belch their loudest caws as you ran down the impending steps of pure rock, hands clutching the spring green and pastel pink ball gown, so you didn’t tumble down.  

The pearly crown on your head was hanging on barely, and the strands of your hair came undone with every step you took, only slowing down as the bushy green walls came into view, making you sob even more, dizzily taking light steps towards the entrance, stumbling in your heels proceeding you take them off.

The air was perfumed with champagne and the lightest touch of sweet candy. At the same time, the fluttering butterflies flapped their beautiful wings, around a certain man who stood behind the white marble fountain, obviously pondering the deep thoughts of the unknown.  

But god he was so alluring, as the pale moonlight cast a dewy look on his softened features, that reflected off his silver suit, and if you let your eyes stray a little farther, a sharp-ended sword lain across the green grass, collecting dewdrops.  

“Sunghoon!” You sob, as you let yourself out, the joints in your knees unable to hold up your deep-rooted sorrows, falling right into a metal suit, head rolled against his arm as the worried boy sits you up, wiping away your salty tears. 

“Love...” He whispers, mouth close to your flushed ears, hugging you close. He knows exactly what you’re feeling–the pure heartbreak that aches your insides up. The pain of love and the deadly dagger it holds upon its clutches.  

“This isn’t fair! I don’t want anyone else!” You wail, looking up at his frown, delicate hands reaching up his face to smear his lips, thumb stroking the side of his mouth. You whine like a petulant child and it’s horribly sickening to see. Yet Sunghoon doesn’t mind as he wipes away the moonlight of streaks down your cheeks.  

“Me too darling.” He rubs his hands up your opened back, his warmth sending shockwaves down your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your cheeks, relishing in the bittersweet moment.

“Let’s just run away” you mumble without a doubt, shoving your palm down his armor to feel his erratic heartbeat, leaning your head on the cold metal once you did.  

He stays silent for a moment, eyes closed as he slithers his fingers across your palms and up the stomach of your dress, drawing a small ‘I love you’ onto the cloth before he breathes awake, adams apple, gulping when he doesn’t break eye-contact with your curious eyes.

“Let’s have one last dance, shall we then?”  

Sunghoon brings your hand close to his lips, pressing a long kiss to your ring finger before lifting you up, rubbing his forehead against yours in affection. You nod with his words, and he pulls you up into a hug.  

Ball songs echoed onto the nightly daze, letting the creatures that roamed the area have a chance to flow with the heavenly music. The crickets chirped along as the owls perched and ruffled their feathers to the soothing beat, watching two young adolescents clumsily place each other in the other’s hands, lips and eyes unable to flicker away for a second, drunk in love.  

Placing his hand on your waist just in time for a new tune to drift in, your heart skips a beat once you notice what was playing, a hint of surprise and fluster on Sunghoon’s cheeks as he pulls you closer, nodding his head into the crook of your shoulder, slowly swaying in the presence of a full moon, lips melting in with each other.

Memories cascade down the lingering touches that you leave and the heavy hearts that you both heave in your chests. Yet the cavity that you used to dwindle was filled with the keys to each other.  

“You’re so beautiful, so pretty” He sighs, slightly tickling your waist, pulling back a little so he can meet your gaze. “I love you.”  

You smile as an answer, using two hands to pull him as close as possible, manageable to suffocate.  

“I love you too,” you softly reply, before pulling him back into another longing kiss, eyes closed, blindfolding your surroundings, too caught up in the moment, feeling as though if you let go, it would warp into a dream.  

Too bad that it was too late to realize the sword of your lover, was now punctured through your gut. Eyes widening open in shock, you catch Sunghoon weeping hard, his fingers massaging the aching wound in your lower abdomen, body shaking in guilt and sadness.  

“I’m so sorry love. God I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I promised–I promised your mother!” He breaks down, slowly catching you onto the ground, lungs unable to catch the air that you needed as you try to comprehend what he meant.  

“Huh?” You cough, tugging on the straps of his armor, and you knew that you were supposed to feel anger and betrayal at the situation, but you couldn’t help but relax him, splotching his tears around his streaked face.  

Intertwining your hand with his, you shakily let out an exhale, staring at him through your lashes, trying to preserve the last moments of your life. You grunt as he watches you incredulously before pulling out the dagger from your soaked body, pointing the metal blade towards his gut, ripping off his armor.

Using his slender fingers, he stabs himself quickly, penetrating deep enough to choke on rising blood.  

“I love you so much, I’m sorry darling” he quietly sobs, reaching for your arms which you let him take, flipping you over his blood-covered chest, hugging you tightly.  

Taking your last breaths, you leave a chaste kiss on his neck, where his heartbeat slows down into a rhythmic song, two heartbeats steadily dying out.  

[vankaar]

Eddie twirled on himself to face Steve, throwing his arms around in anger.

"You're telling me that I cannot use my metal songs because you thought that the undead are pretty metal and that filtered in this shared reality and made them impervious to my fucking music??”

Steve shrugs a shoulder a little bashfully, not an easy feat while wearing full plate armor. It's not his fault Eddie pulled him into his weird fantasy mindscape. Steve likes to find the sunny side so he's kinda happy he's not strolling around half-naked anymore. The fur panties hitched like a bitch and he's really glad they were gone.

Eddie stomps around letting out frustration “Shit! Undead that are resistant to heavy metal.. Shit.”

Ok. Steve was man enough to admit that Eddie making him strong enough to bash in Vecna's face by playing that fast Dio's song was impressive.

But he's such a drama queen!

It wouldn't kill him to use something that's not metal, if that means getting out of this with all their organs still where they belong.

“Maybe you could..”

“No, nope! nonono don't say it! I know what you're gonna say, but just–don't. Don't say it.” He groaned with a hand on his face, eyes screwed shut.

Steve shook his head. Dramatic bitch.

The horde of undead was getting near, their moans and the crack of their rotten bones sickening in the silence of the night.

Steve sighed again unsheathed his morning star and started hitting the first undead in range with methodical efficiency.

Swing. Crunch. Rinse and repeat.

“umh.. Eddie? When you're ready– you know, some help would be nice,” he called out while bashing in a skeleton skull.

Eddie let out some more profanities and with a last scream of anger took up his guitar with a grimace. He started playing the first bar of a song, his expression as if in pain.

Steve looked at him with a startled laugh, eyes wide. He knew that song!

“Not. A. Word.” Threatened Eddie with a snarl.

As usual the rithmics, choirs, and all the parts of the song that Eddie wasn't performing got taken up by some local fauna, that seemed to pop out of thin air, with their tiny music instruments perfectly in tune.

It would look like Eddie were in a goddamn Disney movie if it weren't for the drums line being played by their enemies remains, using a couple of femoris as drumsticks.

That would count as metal, right?

Eddie started to sing.

“Sittin' here eatin' my heart out waitin'

Waitin' for some lover to call,

Dialed about a thousand numbers lately

Almost rang the phone off the wall”

Eddie was giving all of himself to the performance, like the pro he was, even if it wasn't his kind of music. Steve loved him a little more as he observed him shimmying his hips to the rhythm, hair swishing around.

It was stifling under the fucking armor.

“Lookin' for some hot stuff, baby, this evenin'

I need some hot stuff, baby, tonight

I want some hot stuff, baby, this evenin'”

The air in front of the undead started to shimmer and warble like the heat haze causing mirages, rising up from the asphalt in the hottest days of summer.

“Gotta have some hot stuff, gotta have some love tonight”

The scene was so surreal that Steve almost got beheaded by a skeleton as the choir made by three rabbit, a badger and a fox sang “Hot stuff” doing the silliest little dance.

He was a little bummed he couldn't give all his attention to his bard only because there were sword-brandishing zombies trying to cut off his limbs.

A pity, truly.

“I need hot stuff

I want some hot stuff

I need hot stuff”

With a thrust of his hips Eddie sent a small magic ball of fire from his guitar. The rippling air around them got lit with a deafening whoosh.

Flames roared high, licking the top of a nearby group of trees. One of his strings started glowing red, a clear indicator of an active spell.

“Wuoah! warn a man, would ya?” yelled Steve shielding his face from the scorching heat. If his eyebrows got singed they were going to have words.

A circular wall of fire sat between them and the horde of undead now. A half dozen of them didn't stop in time and walked right in, exploding in a pouf of sparks and ash. The others took some steps back from the heat and stayed there, looking at them with dead eyes. Swaying slowly. Waiting

“That's a cool trick," stated Steve with a smile while pointing at the barrier with his chin. "..but when the pyrotechnics are gonna fade we're still screwed.”

He felt a little guilty pointing out the obvious, Eddie was doing his best.

“Damn, I was hoping they would be more stupid,” said Eddie, drying some sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his blouse.

“We need a way to make them walk into the fire,” thought Steve, out loud.

Eddie tapped his lip, a mischievous smile slowly spreading on his lips. Steve wanted to grab him and taste that smile so much.

“How do ya feel about being a honeypot, big boy?” winked the metalhead twirling on himself to stop in playing position in front of Steve. Very close.

“Huh?” replied Steve unintelligently. His brain got this bug and it blue screened every time Eddie got so close he could smell him.

Eddie started directly from the chorus this time.

“If you want my body and you think I'm sexy

Come on sugar, let me know, ooh

If you really need me, just reach out and touch me

Come on, honey, tell me so, ooh”

He sang circling the other as he played and making the most over the top, silly, sexy faces.

A pink wave of glittery magic followed in his wake, surrounding Steve. The horde started to make sounds and swayed in Steve’s direction as one organism, getting near the thundering flames.

“He's actin' shy, lookin' for an answer

Come on, honey, let's spend the night together”

Eddie sang wiggling his eyebrow suggestively at Steve who answered with his bitchiest eye roll but was secretly impressed: Two of the guitar chords were glowing now, Eddie was keeping up two spells simultaneously. Not bad for someone that learned how that shit worked just that morning.

As the song continues the undead start to walk into the fire, going up in a popping series of blazers, sounding like popcorn and going out like insects fried in those bug zapper people use during summer’s nights.

Steve was glowing pink instead of violet like those lights but the concept was disturbingly similar.

When the last of the undead was gone, Eddie let out a deep exhale, his guitar stopped glowing, and everything went suddenly darker because the flames went out in a zap of red magic.

Eddie fell on his knees, propped up on his guitar, hair falling into his face. He was clearly exhausted.

Steve knelt beside him putting a hand on his shoulder

“You ok?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, yeah, give me a second. That was intense,” breathed out Eddie.

“Ok”

Steve pulled the other's bangs out of his eyes, tucking the longer strands behind Eddie's ear.

Big round eyes were looking at him with the expression of a deer caught in the headlights and Steve couldn't help himself.

“So… hot stuff, do ya think I’m sexy?” he said using an exaggeration of his most suave King Steve voice.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed and he slapped him repeatedly on the arm in a fashion eerily similar to Robin when Steve was being annoying on purpose.

Steve chuckled.

“You!!! You're on thin ice man– fucking thin ice!- he yelled, his pointer finger up menacingly like an angry teacher.

Steve saw Eddie fight the smile tugging at his lips and counted that as a win.

One day he's going to be braver and kiss this silly brilliant man.

[wistrearchived]

v. BALDUR'S GATE 3

warning! contains spoilers for acts 1-3 and story progression of baldur's gate 3, as well as heavy mentions of blood, murder, gore, and abuse.

my body, a corpse, a mis-translation. as i keep mistaking blood for song, god as something owed to me.

name: kira, "kira horikoshi" aliases: the dark urge, the sorceress of slaughter, bhaal's chosen, the chaos witch, "kira of lyssandros", the herald and slayer of bhaal, the grand mistress of murder

occupation: assassin, adventurer languages spoken: common, sylvan, elvish

race: half - elf (of high-elf descent, with seelie influence) class: sorcerer (wild magic) alignment: chaotic neutral backstory: the haunted one

a wicked moment, person, or thing that cannot be slain by sword or spell haunts your mind and flickers in your peripheral vision.    you carry it wherever your adventure takes you …    or perhaps it carries you.

age: unknown due to her lost memories, appears to be in her mid-late twenties gender: fem - presenting, nonbinary (she/they) sexuality: bisexual and biromantic nation: unknown / none

PROFICIENCIES. [ i etch my own face upon my wicked flesh. i am my own devastating god. ]

skills: intimidation, arcana, deception, medicine saving throws: constitution, charisma weapons: daggers, quarterstaffs, light crossbows armor: light armor other bonuses: cannot be charmed, darkvision, slayer form.

weaknesses: cannot perform any fire spells, susceptible to fire damage.

ORIGIN. [ a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort. ]

made of bhaal's blood, his daughter and chosen, circumstances of her birth left unknown as all she remembers was the warm, bloody embrace of her father's temple. hands ever devoted to the murder, who praised him at the altar, were the same to raise the infant who had never once cried. instead, she would only stare, with violet eyes so unnerving, all the while they sang songs of killing and praises to their deity's name the same way one would soothe a child with a lullaby. she was made by design to slaughter, to kill for the glory of the lord of murder. quiet one, for she was hardly spoken to, assuming that her father's followers were far too afraid. she was not sure if she even had a name, then. they called her bhaalspawn, or the young master. or nothing at all.

she remembers the first time she had killed, driven by anger and the dull dagger in her hand. one of the followers, a woman she had remembered not by name, but by how she had been tasked with caring for her before ... the same woman who now stood over her bed with a knife aimed at her, raised high above her head. the young girl does not gasp at the sight, nor does she run. she simply watches with a blank stare, as she notices how the woman trembles in fear. she must have tired from all the blood, the sickening things it must have done to be in such company for so long ... but the young bhaalspawn did not care. she only felt anger, and thus the beginning of the whispers. kill, kill, and kill again. each echo of the desire to slaughter causes her to stab into the ribcage, until the heart it protects does little to prevent her stopping it's beating permanently. the dark urge awakens within the child who becomes acustomed to the feeling of being bathed in blood.

a few nights that follow, the small temple where the bhaalspawn had been raised was infiltrated by someone who carries a powerful aura of magic. one of her father's worshipers approach the child, determined to get his master's child away from whoever had been attacking them, until he is struck down by a blade that nearly glows in the dim light. an elven woman, with long dark hair, and clothes splattered in blood ... and yet she has a kind beautiful that did not deserve to be in a place as wretched as this. her name was masako, and she had taken you away from that cruel place. the child watched as she killed all those who stood in their way. she killed to protect you, she killed for your sake, and you liked that. this woman was kind to you. she cleaned the blood from your hands and only then do you realize how small they truly were, how they trembled at the feeling of such kindness. she raised you in the feywilds, and for the first time, you felt ... human. masako taught her how to wield a blade so that she could kill, but with the intentions of survival, to have something to eat on the dinner table. she lived alongside a family she had since called her own: two older brothers, and a younger one. she braided her hair like she was her daughter and held her when she had nightmares, and the child begins to apologize when her nails dig into the woman's arms out of fear of what she sees when she dreams. she cries for the first time one night after she dreams of the slaughter once again and calls masako mother.

kira, she said. that will be your name. do you like it? a name that means light. she liked the name very much.

but there were those who did not allow your solace to live, those who knew you carried the murder god's blood within you, who sneered and spat bhaalspawn at you as you passed. and what did they do? they killed your mother. it was only fair that you delivered retribution on your behalf. the dark urge becomes stronger, the calling deafening and nearly unbearable, but the sound of your victims' screams drown it out, satisfies that desire. you do not give them mercy for they have never offered you any. she becomes a calamity, that day, when she was no older than seventeen. kira of lyssandros, who had killed dozens in the feywilds. lyssandros meant liberator, or liberator of man. the father welcomes his daughter home, covered in slaughter.

[ i’ve no more kept my warmth than blood upon the snow. ]

kira is named bhaal's chosen, who commanded his armies and slaughtered thousands in her father's name, becoming his slayer. she lived for the knife, often described as well as bhaal's favorite spawn, calamity incarnate who's beautiful visage was often decorated with the crimson she takes from each conquest. she who had been worshipped by followers of their own and elicits entertainment from the sorceress with their devotion.

it is not clear, yet, how exactly she had met her downfall, for her memory continues to evade her, but she remembers it in fragments. kira was bhaal's chosen, his favored spawn, but her position was shattered. her defiance against her father, the desire to want to live by her own ambitions, and the betrayal of her sister, orin, who wanted their father's favor and title of his chosen for herself.

this profound self - slaughter, a bloodline built on killing. she dies by the fury of bhaal, by his own will was her life taken from her just as it had been given. others may have called that an honor, or perhaps the gravest disgrace. as the god of murder had shoved a jagged dagger into his daughter's heart, and the blade seems to disappear inside of her, waiting to be unsheathed. but she is not killed by her father, instead preserved in a slumbering death until the calamity would be awakened once again. there were plans for her yet.

[ i’ve no more kept my warmth than blood upon the snow. ]

she does not know how much time has passed, or where she is, nor does she know how long she had been awake since then because her body is restless with death as life is breathed into her once again. the calamity wakes once again, the sorceress of slaughter: her name is kira, that much she knows with her whole, and heavy heart. she wakes, covered in blood, and perhaps that is the first comforting thing she has felt for the longest time. a tadpole. a ship infested with mindflayers. a parasite.

the story begins once again.

[stele3]

I had this idea for a musical.

I hate musicals.

But I had this idea for a high fantasy musical named Figwit. We open on a fantasy land, swoop with some crows towards a shiny Disney-esque castle then veer away to a huge, blackened, terrifying fortress in the mountains. A lovely young teenage girl (probably 13?) named Figwit skips through the fortress, saying hello to the living gargoyles, before she enters the tower at the top to visit her caretaker, Wik (properly named Wikai the Nightmare King, Plaguemaster, Born of Crows, Terror of the North). Wik is currently threatening someone via dark Zoom but turns to smile warmly and gently at Figwit before handing her a bauble and asking her to wait for a few minutes while he wraps up his call; the second she plops down on his towering, spiked throne, he turns back to the Zoom call and continues threatening them. Wikai the Nightmare King, btw, is played by Joey Batey in intense eyeliner and a spiky black coat.

Figwit is a bright, cheerful tween who’s prone to breaking into song (to Wik’s resignation, her magic means that he, also, gets to sing). She’s led a rather sheltered life in Wik’s castle -- he’s taught her how to visit people’s dreams, but in terms of actual social interaction she’s a bit limited -- and she’s curious about the outside world. Wik warns her that this land is infected with a mysterious blight that grows every year, birthing monsters in its wake. Figwit wonders what caused the blight, and Wik looks at her anxiously.

One day, Wik disappears along with all his stuff. After some anxiety and singing, Figwit decides to track him down and sets off with her favorite baby gargoyle perched on her shoulder.

Pretty quickly she meets Desmond, a knight, as he’s heroically fighting a monster in defense of several innocent travelers. Desmond (played by Sam Reid), is exactly what a knight in shining armor is supposed to be: blond, blue-eyed, honorable. Figwit admires him right away. Once the monster is dispatched, Figwit explains that she’s a princess (”Princess of what?” “Uhhh...*thinks about the big dark tower* that’s a secret.”) and Desmond explains that he’s on a quest to find the prince of this land. You see, the blight is tied to the royal line, which is withering. Ten years ago, the prince and princess were killed and their son kidnapped by forces unknown; the king grows old and as he does so, the spirit of the land sickens.

Blah blah blah, some plot happens here featuring bandits, Desmond and Figwit get captured and suddenly Wik appears, subjecting the bandits to their own worst nightmares. Figwit greets Wik joyously but the second he and Desmond see each other it’s like

Desmond: YOU

Wik: Y̴̮͎̞̜̼̻̘̲͚̻̺̖̰̍̒͊̏̑̃̃̋̇̋͐͠O̵̢̬͇̤͇̙̰̘̤̠̫̱̿̈́̄̂̎͛̎̇̍̄̕͠U̴̡͕͉͎͓̗̣͉̺̱̼̻̓̆͛̍̂̐̅̀͋̐̕͝

They’ve been fighting each other for years, because Wik is the prime suspect in the murder of the prince and princess and the kidnapping of their son. The penny drops and Figwit reveals that she’s trans -- she is the prince of this land. Wik murdered her parents. He flinches away from her horrified gaze, then smirks and points at her expression. “That face. That’s my nightmare.” He portals away again.

I’m not sure exactly how the rest of the plot goes. The blight is revealed to be nightmare goo that Wik has lost control of -- or given up control of, rather, because he wanted to be a good father to Figwit rather than a monstrous captor. Figwit’s grandfather does misgender her ruthlessly and guilt-trips her to detransitioning; Wik sees her dressed as a boy and tears up immediately in horror. Desmond reveals that he is actually Figwit’s biodad: he had an anguished crush on the prince, who was too bound up in honor and duty to reciprocate, but when the prince figured out he was infertile he asked Desmond to get his wife pregnant -- again, duty to the land and continuation of the line, blah blah blah. The stress of detransitioning and being misgendered causes Figwit to have a breakdown and enter her villain era, when she gets consumed by the blight and turns into a fucking dragon. Desmond and Wik bond over being shitty and/or absentee fathers before buckling down and going to save their daughter. The power of love, but more importantly the power of not inviting your nightmares to live in you constantly, saves the day. Wik and Desmond smooch a little?? Figwit becomes a knight-princess and goes out to live in the land rather than a silly castle.

*puts this idea out on the curb with a sign FREE TO A GOOD HOME*

[myths-of-fantasy]

“Alright, one more time – when in the Earth Kingdom, we are…”

“The Song family.”

“And we are…”

“Merchants.”

“That sell-”

“-Bread, maps and trinkets.”

“Good, good.”

Ezani looked over her collection of children, all of them speaking in firm but quiet voices as they watched her with serious eyes. They had been preparing for this day for a while now. It had been about four months since Iroh had sailed off with Zuko on the doomed-to-failure search for the Avatar. The hidden waterbender had been training her kids – hers because honestly fuck Ozai – to handle the world outside of the Fire Nation. Her heart still clenched at the infrequently letters coming from Zuko, the boy’s pain and palpable confusion coming through clearly as he reported failure after failure in his search even as he tried to hide it.

The Azula, Mei and Ty-Lee would curl up among themselves while Ezani read the latest letter for them, doing her best to keep the raw sadness she felt for the boy out of her voice. Inevitably, they would ask for the letter to read it themselves and she would hand it over for them to inspect, Azula sadly tracing her fingers across the characters shaped by her brother’s hands.

On the other side, Ezani would unravel the secret letters delivered to her by Iroh; reporting on what the current climate was like. While Zuko hadn’t the luxury of being preemptively desensitized, unwound from the prejudices of the Fire Nation, Ezani had been carefully planting seeds of doubt in all of the most important places in the minds of the girls. She kept encouraging them to ask questions, to look deeper into every order, not to take things said at face value and she could see that it was starting to sink in. Even the act of asking for the letter, choosing to read it themselves rather than count on her to tell them the exact contents of the letter was a sign of their changing demeanor.

Though what happened to Zuko was vile and sickening, the final act to seal Ozai’s image in the eyes of his children not as their father but as their master, the shock of his actions had ruptured their entire worlds. No matter what Ezani had tried to teach Azula before, Ozai had been her father and much of the Fire Nation saw him as the fair if strict father.

The needless cruelty towards his own son for the mere crime of caring about their soldiers had been a blow to their world-views leaving them more vulnerable to Ezani’s teachings.

She hated to think about it like that but she’d been raised with the war in mind, raised to understand the vulnerabilities that could open themselves in a person’s armor and how to both exploit them and protect her own.

Ezani had been prepared to pack up her girls and ditch the island only a couple days after Iroh had left but looking at the girls now, she reluctantly admitted that staying for a bit longer had been for the best. They were stronger through their training, the adults in their lives entrusting them with more and more complex foot-work which would serve them well on the outside.

“We’re in the Earth Kingdom.” she said sharply, making them all straighten up. “What are your names?”

“Lily,” Azula said immediately, putting on her best ‘innocent child’ expression. Ezani smiled warmly – she had been wary about using the girl’s pet-name as an alias but she’d been careful to never express the name in public. ‘Fire-Lily’ was usually reserved for private moments within her little shop, so hopefully it would fly easily enough under the radar.

“Aster,” Ty Lee declared, straightening up.

“Song Sage,” Mei reported.

“Well-done – let’s work on your breads again.”

The girls rushed the stand, pulling out their premade dough while Ezani watched with a critical eye. Their cover would be simple – a small family of merchants that traveled semi-regularly selling the various trinkets they found on their journeys alongside their very good breads. For those who looked upon their band with confusion, she would profess to having taken over her own father’s business. Others who would look at her dark skin and brown eyes with suspicion next to her triad of paler skinned girls, would be told that she’d once had a partner (but carefully not a husband, she possessed none of the dressings for a widow to pass that story) whom perished defending them when the girls were young.

She tried to keep the other details close to reality to prevent the girls from slipping up – Mei was her eldest daughter and Azula her youngest. Given that Azula and Ty Lee looked nothing alike, she’d declared that she was just a little girl when they escaped the attack and so, Ezani took her with them. The waterbender had initially wanted to pass them off as twins but they didn’t look similar enough to be convincing. She’d say she had a son once but he’d been killed alongside his father, defending their family while the girls escaped.

Not a very detailed story no but it had enough information to keep the average citizen from looking into them too deeply. Bandits were a known problem throughout the world.

“How much longer do we have to wait?” Azula’s words snapped her out of her thoughts. Her little girl looked so grown up now, 13 years old but with the serious eyes and flecked with faint scars. It certainly lent to their story but her heart still crumbled looking at the singed marked on her daughter’s skin, where she’d dodge a knife a little too slowly; hadn’t blocked a fire covered fist quite quickly enough. Mei was the eldest and yet, Azula’s body was a hidden mosaic of suffering. “I can’t take it much longer. Being in the castle with him.”

She spat the last word venomously – Azula hadn’t referred to the Firelord as her father since the day he exiled Zuko. Not that the self-centered man had even noticed, she wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard assumed she was just showing him the proper respect befitting his station.

I wish I could kill him, Ezani thought to herself bitterly. A life-time of grooming and yet, when faced with her task all she could see overwhelming failure waiting for her. She knew intellectually the Firelord was surrounded by high-ranking military officials, that attempting a rush on the palace would be paramount to suicide and yet…. It still felt like she was failing her parents, failing Zuko by letting that bastard continue drawing breath. Some day.

“Soon,” she answers Azula, careful to hide any signs of her inner torment. “I have an idea of where to go, food and maps. I’ve already packed all of the most important aspects of the stall and destroyed anything else that could tip-off the guards.”

She sighed a little, “The hardest part is managing to parse out a ship willing to smuggle the Firelord’s precious daughter out of the Nation without sending word back to the palace.”

Azula growled at being called the Firelord’s daughter but said nothing about it – though she no longer viewed the cruel man as a father, Firelord Ozai was still certain of her loyalty to him, still seemed to think her his loyal puppet.

“Maybe I can help,” Ty Lee offered, rocking back and forth on her feet. The young girl was constantly in motion – it seemed the restless energy she usually expended in the circus had become just another part of her.

“I don’t want you to risk getting hurt,” Ezani told her gently, suppressing the fear of what could happen if they were discovered. She herself was already just barely avoiding execution for what was – at the very least – treason, kidnapping and given her communications with Iroh, espionage.

“Oh little poppy, I don’t mean it that way,” she cooed when Ty Lee wilted a bit. “I know you want to help but I want you girls to be as innocent in this as possible. If I am caught, I want you to three to stay together and look out for each other.”

“You won’t get caught though,” Azula declared.

“It’s always a risk,” said the ever realistic Mei in a softer voice. “Those nobles are always poking around her shop. And they’re mean when they don’t get what they want.”

Ezani wordlessly placed her hand on Mei’s shoulder, squeezing lightly in an attempt at comfort. The eldest’s emotions were always a bit muted, more contained and tightly sewn together compared to Azula and Ty Lee’s. Ezani had wondered for a while if that was by nature or if it was taught to her – regardless, she recognized the comment as the quiet girl’s way of expressing her concerns.

“I won’t lie to you all – you’re old enough to understand the truth. And the truth is that what I’m planning is dangerous – that just living here had been a major gamble. This world isn’t as kind as I would like it to be and as long as Ozai is Firelord, there is always the risk that I will be taken from you.”

Azula clenched her fists as Ty Lee shuffled closer to her, eyes tearing up with frightened sadness.

“I will do my best to stay with you,” Ezani told them seriously. “But if it comes down to a choice of me or you, I will always choose you. And I hope I can count on you three to choose yourselves too.”

She doesn’t think they would, not by the steel in their eyes and the stiffness to their bodies but she’d at least told them the truth. There was no point in attempting to shelter them from this fact – not when she would be labeled the Fire Nation’s number one enemy if her plan were to succeed.

For now, she let them knead their dough while she formulated a reply to Iroh – only a few more months at the most.

Then they would be free.

| | |

“Thank you,” Ezani said quietly.

The merchant nodded, accepting the small pouch of money that she’d carefully collected. A healthy amount of coin of both Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom currency to further entice the man to keep quiet. Thank the spirits, it seemed that the Fire Lord had disgruntled quite a few merchants with his stricter trading policies and the higher taxes he imposed upon them. The merchant was a frequenter of the less popular docks, electing to travel by foot through the lands to increase the chances of encountering a potential customer – it works perfectly in her favor. The unpopulated docks meant that there would be fewer people who would recognize Azula, the guards would be in the looser part of the Firelord’s palm rather than tightly grasped in his grips and it would allow them to vanish on the roads between the major cities.

She turned and motioned for the girls to follow, creeping from the shadows slowly.

She blinked a little, readjusting once more to the slightly jarring sight of her girls dressed as ordinary citizens, each clutching a small bag in their hands. It would’ve been smarter if she’d told them no, denied them the opportunity to take the small items that would surely reveal their flight but she didn’t have the heart to. She was already taking them away from all that they knew, into a hostile world where they would live on the run presumably for the rest of their lives, dogged by the Firelord and his loyal soldiers.

So she helped Ty Lee onto the boat first, saying nothing about the small beaded necklace that shimmered in the bag, about the decorative knife that Mei held as she crossed onto the boat or the teddy bear – the only gift from Ursa to her daughter – clutched in Azula’s arms.

Ezani was holding her breath the entire time.

She’d sent word to Iroh that they were finally leaving, that she’d send him a second message when they reached shore again – her tern-falcon alongside Ducky were packed safely onto the ship near the merchant’s goods, carefully out of sight of an immediate glance near the merchant’s own iguana-parrot. She watched the shore of the Fire Nation fade into the distance as her girls were ushered beneath the deck to change from their Fire Nation commoner robes to something more suitable for the average traveling merchant.

She waited with her heart in her throat as they sailed further and further out to sea, her pulse thumping loudly in her ears.

In the end, she needn’t have worried – they passed the check-point easily, the guards tired and uncaring of what they saw as an ordinary merchant passing by with subpar material. It was late at night and the Firelord was convinced his Azula was still his darling puppet – he’d stopped looking in on her room when she didn’t leave with Zuko. Her little girl had masked her hurt and upset masterfully within the palace, disguising her grief as a newfound blood-lust in training that made the Firelord cackle with pleasure.

It would only be the next morning, when her Fire Lily didn’t answer his summons and the servants found her room empty, her sheets untouched that he would realize what had happened. He would storm the little stand she’d called her own only to find an empty shell with no evidence of where they’d gone. She’d reluctantly given away her lips to one of the noble-women who continued to press her, push her and ensured her silence, kept her from alerting the guards that she was leaving so they couldn’t stop her swift-night’s packing.

She releases a gentle sigh, her muscles relaxing as she looked upon the open sea stretching before her; the water silver from the bright moon’s light and she’d never felt more at home than she did now. Ezani always felt the safest on the sea – ironic considering it was where she’d been most in danger with the Fire Nation’s fleet patrolling the waters.

“Nothing to do but wait now,” she said aloud, as she settled onto her spot on the ship. She unwrapped a bit of blueberry bread she’d produced with Azula’s help.

She ate, watching the moonlight and imagined the Firelord’s enraged roar with a smirk upon her lips.

---

@ultimatebottom69

Being sporadic as hell but this time, I'm remembering to include you in this lmao

[saturn7162]

I'm Gonna Win

This song isnt mine, neither is steven universe (yes another steven universe fic my bad...)

I also made the gems bleed just to add more texture to the story, so beware. Anyway hope you like tihs (ao3 coming soon if they get back to me)

He sighed as he slid down the wall taking to sitting on the cold stone floors. He began humming a small tune as he fiddled with the accessories on his clothes. 

“My life is a constant entrapment of tunnels, which tangle and wind and beguile.” He then paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. 

“And regardless of where I may tumble or funnel, I wonder what’s really worthwhile…” He hummed the song louder, getting to his feet and grabbed a large ax from the wall. 

“Sometimes it can seem like a merciless dream and I'm falling with nothing to hold.” He walked over to another wall which donned his armor and he slipped it on carefully. 

“Sometimes I get flustered and beaten and blistered, abandoned outside in the cold.” He stepped out onto the grass of the battlefield, readying his ax.

“But I’m gonna win! I’m gonna try!” He yelled and ran on, swinging his ax at the homeworld gems. 

“I’ll never lose! I’ll never dieeeeee!!” He swung his ax down on the back of a gems head causing blood to erupt from the wound, covering his face and chest. Their physical form disappeared and their gem fell to the grass. 

“You’ve seen me before~” He leaped to the left, avoiding the swing of a sword. He jumped to his feet quickly and parried their next attack. 

“You’ll see me again~” He grinned and swung his ax into their chest. He shook off their blood as it spilt onto his front armor. 

“I’ll never give up!” He swung his ax at more and more gems, hacking them in half and spilling their blood. 

“I’ll never give innnnn~!” He smiled again as he hooked his claws into an enemy's throat, tearing their gem out as they screamed. 

“Till I’m bloody and bruised” He tore another gem open from their naval up to their chin and threw them into another gem. 

“Till I’ve broken my bones!” He slammed his forehead into a gem, cracking it and covering it in his blood. 

“Till I won’t be abused!” Claws met the flesh of an Amethyst’s face, sinking deep into them as blood soaked the grass below.

“Till I’m laughing alone!” He thrusted the handle of his ax into the abdomen of a Quartz, red shiny blood splashing out of them. They fell to their knees with a weak groan and they poofed. 

He shook himself again, trying to rid himself of how soaked he was. He brought an arm up to his face and wiped the blood from his eyes. 

“It’s hard to be charming, and smart and disarming, it’s hard to pretend you’re the best..” He winced in pain as the sharp side of a blade cut through his arm. He whipped around quickly and swung his ax at his attacker, hacking a large gash into their face. Splashes of red flashed across his line of sight and fell to the floor with the body they came from. They groaned in pain one last time before they poofed. 

“It’s hard to fulfill everyone’s expectations, it's hard to keep up with the rest” He ran behind his team, swinging at any gem who dared come  close. 

“But I’m gonna win! I’m gonna try!” Holding his ax high in the air, he let out a battle cry before slaughtering more and more. 

“I’ll never lose! I’ll never die!” He kicked someone back, digging the metal heel of his boot into their chest.

“You’ve seen me before…..” He snatched a gem up from their collar and opened his mouth wide before quickly clasping it around their throat. A sickening squelching crunch was heard as he bit down. Blood gushed into their mouth as they screamed in anguish. Their yells were watery as blood pooled spurted from their mouth, producing a gurgle sound. He spat out the blood that rushed into his mouth as best he could, scowling as warm crimson splashed onto his face and clouded his vision. 

“You’ll see me again” He opened his jaw and let the gem fall, trying his best to spit out the metallic taste. 

“I’ll never give up! I’ll never give in!” Jumping off of the grass, he swung his ax down on the head of a gem who was fighting one of his teammates. 

“Till I’m bloody and bruised..” Blood filled eyes widened in anger as a dagger jabbed into his hip. Eyes twitched as claws were raised and brought down onto their chest, creaking the gem. 

“Till I’ve broken my bones…” He gripped onto a gem by the arm and snapped it over his knee. A loud crunch then a scream filled the starry skies. 

“Till I won’t be abused!” He swung them around and into the firm stone of a jagged hill, snapping their back. They poofed as soon as they hit the grass, their gem resting in their blood. He walked over and saw the large spot of dark red that dripped from the stone. 

“Till I’m laughing alone!”  He snickered and reeled his ax back, teetering on one foot before stepping forward and throwing it at a jasper, knocking her to the ground with a thud. 

“How do you feel?” He asked himself, peering down at his shaky bloodied hands. 

“You’ve been concealing your worries from the world, but you can reveal them to me…” He closed his eyes and balled his hands into fists tightly. 

“I wouldn't know… I’ll go on even though…” His eyes snapped open and he grasped his ax quickly, blood dripping from the surface. 

“I’ll be bloodied and bruised!” He swung his ax into the neck of a quartz soldier, completely severing their head from their body. The head fell first, landing with a thud as both it and the body gushed blood that gleamed under the moonlight. 

“I’ll be breaking my bones!” He sang before yelling out in agony as the sword of a Carnelian struck his face, leaving a deep red gash from his right brow to the back of his left eye.

“I’ll be paying my dues..” His vision was blurred and red as the iron filled liquid ran down his face. The rusty scent flooded his nostrils and was quickly huffed out. He gasped loudly, taking to breathing from his mouth fast. 

His chest heaved as he kneeled and spat out the blood that rushed into his mouth. He looked up just as the blade crashed down again, leaving a newer, deeper gash from his forehead to his lip. He roared in pain as his face was split open, the new wound overlapping the first. Though he still laughed, reaching for his ax with a trembling hand. 

“I’ll be laughing alone!” he laughed maniacally and swung down with all his might. A loud crack rang out across the field as the head of the weapon smashed against the gem, shattering it completely. 

[reflections-of-mobius]

@thehordemultimuse asked:

43. A bloody kiss for Blue Fire (medieval or not, whichever you're cooking with OwO)

[Kiss Roulette! | Accepting!]

[Here's the song for this, have fun~.]

No...

No...

She stood, silent as a grave. Outside the throne room, the rebellion roared- metal clashed, flames soared, and mobians and humans- united under a hatred of King Mephiles- screamed their battle cries. But here, there was only the flickering of shadows across the windows as their opponent drew his blade up- the sickening slck of flesh cutting filling the air.

Crimson blood- the blood of her closest ally, when her nation had fallen...dripped from the sword's edge. It fell back onto its owner, staining his slashed leather armor with his defeat. Tempest's grip on her own sword grew.

"Do you see what happens when you resist, princess?" Mephiles' voice rang out through the throne room. Bluebell- 'Sonic' as he'd been called prior to the rebellion- groaned from the ground. Half of his face had been burnt horribly by Mephiles' fiery twin- the flesh charred, still sizzling. How he hadn't passed out from pain was beyond Tempest...but in that moment, all she could feel was an overwhelming sorrow. Her best warrior, her confidante... Had fallen.

"If you had given your life, instead of fleeing...." The tyrannical king chuckled softly. He grasped the hilt of his blade, his twin raising a pure-white, crystalline hand. A few years ago, this throne room had looked so different...

There had been no crimson stains,- no burnt, charred stone. The ripped tapestries depicting a fire were once a sword, a symbol of Tempest's parents- of her kingdom. And then...

"...then again...I suppose you knew I would raze this kingdom anyway..." Another soft chuckle. "...your rebellion...will fall, along with you, and every last one of your 'pure hearted' fools..." Metal, glittering with red, was pointed towards Tempest. "Starting with your captain."

Tempest launched forward, her own sword raised- only for it to be thrown away, ripped from her hands in a last-second parry that caused her wrists to burn. She could smell sizzling flesh- but that was far from the worst thing in this moment. Tempest's world flipped upside down as foggy purple obscured her vision- and she slammed into something.

She could feel the stone under her hands, cutting into the skin on her right. Tempest had landed- fallen- atop something, the horrible taste of blood and burnt flesh filling her mouth. Brown hues finally focused- seeing the unconscious face of her top warrior. She moved to get off, momentary panic blinding her.

Until the sound of flames burned into her ears- and her back lit up. Tempest's mouth opened in a scream, agony flooding her nerves. The armor protecting her upper back charred to a crisp, fusing to her skin as it crackled and sizzled. Tempest's scream filled the throne room. She couldn't move- pinned by the fire, in a kiss of raw agony. If she moved away- more of her back would be caught by Iblis' blaze.

The twin's demonic laughter filled the hall, flames crackling as they burned Tempest's back.

"How cute....dying together, a true lovers' end..." Tempest's hand let go of the blade handle. It clattered to the ground, but all she could hear were her own pained screams. She had to beat him- Mephiles had stepped closer, a crystal foot slamming onto the hilt of the blade- shattering it. The blade itself was still intact...but if Tempest wanted to use her weapon, she'd have to cut her hand open to do it.

"Do not worry...once you are ash, my brother and I will make sure your kingdom joins you..." His breath was like the dirt on a fresh grave- not quite revolting, but full of sorrow, and time lost. Tempest's teeth finally clamped shut.

If she didn't stop Iblis- if she didn't beat Mephiles- everyone would die.

"RAHHHHHH!!!!" Her world was nothing but red- bright, burning suffering in every bone, in every pulse of her heart. But she still reached out- grabbing the blade's edge, feeling the metal cut into her skin. She yanked the knife, the slice nothing compared to the blaze above. Her own blood splattered on the floor as Mephiles stumbled.

Tempest rolled off of Bluebell, feeling dirt and pebbles lodge themselves into the still-hissing skin. She didn't give Mephiles a chance to recover- grabbing his own sword, ripping it from his hand...and shoving it into Iblis' chest, to her right. There was no blood- but the twin stared down at his chest, for a moment confused- before orange eyes slowly drifted upwards, quickly growing hazy.

"....mephy?...."

Iblis' form cracked at the edges- the cracks working inward before the monstrosity exploded into dust. Mephiles was still, eyes locked on where his brother had been. The dust floated in the air- before rushing towards Tempest. Before she could react, it had flung down her lungs- burning in her chest, filling her every vein. Red consumed her-

He hurt Bluebell.

Tempest's skin began to darken.

He destroyed her kingdom.

Her eyes were losing their color.

HE KILLED HER PEOPLE.

A blast of fire filled the space, as Tempest's remaining armor suddenly sharpened- gaining a crystal quality as it filled back in, the cracked and warped metal repairing as her hair began to rise- floating as if she were in space.

The tapestries all blazed, the fabric instantly lighting up in orange and yellow. The hall was set ablaze- the only thing spared being Bluebell, who was oddly unharmed...and Mephiles himself. Even Tempest had flames flickering off of her body- but she didn't seem to notice as the smell of ash burned in her nose.

"YAꟼ ⅃⅃IW UOY!!!" Her voice rang as a collective- a million people slain by the twins in the past, their fury rising with Tempest's own.

The sword sliced through the air- and clear through what should have been solid crystal. Fire the color of a dying sunset roared to life in the cut across the king's neck. Mephiles' head toppled from his shoulders- melting into black goop as it went, before splatting into a puddle on the floor. The rest of his body flopped backwards, the cape he'd had fashioned when he took over beginning to sizzle and pop. The stones of the castle fizzled as Mephiles' remains began to eat away at them- but Tempest didn't care. She didn't even notice. The qualities she'd gained began to shatter and fall, her armor fading back to its currently half-destroyed state, eyes regaining color.

Tempest attempted to take a step.

She fell to one knee, her opponent's sword slicing into solid rock. Tempest's vision had begun to waver. She could still taste Blue's blood on her tongue. She spat to the side, trying to get rid of the flavor. Outside- cheers began to rise. The princess' brown eyes, dulled from pain, weakly cast a glance in the direction of the nearest window- now cracked...when had that happened?

Smoke was filling the air outside...but the cheers- the cheers were from her men. Tempest's vocal chords refused to heed her as she tried to chuckle, albeit quietly. Rubbed raw from her screams, and she could still feel the blaze that had licked at her back...she didn't realize the black goop had begun to shift towards her.

It leapt, the acidic substance immediately cutting into the skin of Tempest's arms as she let out another half-choked scream, cut off partway through as her vocals quit responding.

"If I die, then I shall take you with me...!" Mephiles' voice rang in her ears. The goop- he was still alive--! Tempest tried to stand, only for her leg to give out. She fell to the ground, Mephiles' sword clattering away as agony consumed every nerve. She wasn't sure how long it lasted, writhing there in raw suffering as Mephiles' voice grew gradually weaker...but eventually, her hearing began to fall away. Her vision swam, her body seeming to fall from her mind. The hall's ceiling rumbled- before a section nearby caved entirely, raining down chunks of stone that narrowly missed the unconscious Bluebell.

"...n....o...." She had come so far... They'd all come so far-- they'd defeated Mephiles, the King of Darkness- and Iblis, the Knight of Hellfire...they'd saved her parents' kingdom...

But it was all growing so faint....

At least the pain was beginning to ebb, as Tempest's mind fell further into endless darkness. At the edge of her hearing, she picked up on footsteps...a gasp...

"SOMEONE GET A HEALER!"

Oblivion claimed her.

[rebuketheviolent]

ironsong. ario/aurora/ripley. 516 words.

i wrote this a while ago when aurora did some harebrained combat shit and finally started fucking with her siberys mark/magic plague along with it. ario d'vadalis is the other player in my game, @childofeberron, who has been uh. EXPERIMENTED ON A LOT by their mother and at this point is part dragon! as have both of ario's brothers, with ario being the most successful experiment out of the three and orris ending up as a freaky draconic false hydra. we're a powerhouse party that does heavy damage but when we start going down it gets dangerous and... well. maybe aurora has a little crush she isn't analyzing yet.

The words sink into Aurora's chest with a sickening weight right as Orris' teeth sink into Ario's.

"This is what you get for doing this to me-"

And gods, Ario, Ario with the hesitant words and the warm, steady hands, blue fingertips and claws, lightning crackling between their teeth- something hits a crescendo in her head, watching blood seep from between Orris' jaws and hearing the sickening crunch of bone.

Ario goes limp.

She's barely standing. The blood is rushing into her head, all that movement and ironsong- Ripley's melody doesn't falter in her ears, just around the corner, but that song- all around, and up, and down, and branching over and around her again, making her blood run out silvery and wrong.

Every crevice in this building is made of fucking metal. She can feel it. She can feel it the way she feels her blood vessels and nerve endings.

Aurora understands what he's doing before he brings the doorframe crushing down onto Orris' neck. The metal bends under her will as easily as moving her arm. And the hydra, he looks at her for a flash of a moment; that grin is all knives twisting in her brain, trying to bore out Ripley, to bore out Ario, brushing over the hole where-

It takes her a second to realize she's screaming over the sound of cracking bone and crushing windpipe. By the time she has, Orris' neck is a mangled conglomerate of blood and viscera, caught in her makeshift guillotine.

She's already bending the doorframe back into place when his knees hit the ground by Ario. His armor kicks into gear, mechanics whirring with the effort it takes to wrench the hydra's jaws open and pull Ario into his arms. They collapse in her lap, pale, breathing shallow and frantic, blood dripping against Aurora's body.

"Ario, hold on, wake up-"

Starrin, she thinks. Starrin will know what to do. His steady gaze and tapping fingers, but- Aurora remembers with a twist that House Cannith will ask for the bloody, beating heart from her chest without a moment of hesitation, and Vadalis has already asked worse of Ario. Would Starrin send them back to the Kennels to bring them healing? Into their mother's care?

Because the touch of a mother is so healing, right?

No, she can't trust Starrin, can't trust Mabyn d'Vadalis, not Lady Seryan; she can trust herself- but her healing is tapped, and the Protector cannon isn't stitching their wounds closed.

"Fuck," she whispers, brushing sweaty hair from their eyes, and his armor shifts into gear again as she lifts Ario off the ground and into her arms.

Because the entire world can let her down, and everyone in it can ignore his pain and let him curse on the ground, but even caught lying, even with their darkest truths and the knife in the drawer laid bare for her to see, there is one person in the world she can trust with her life.

And that's who sends him into the pitch, unnatural black, Mabar wrapping around her mind.

Ripley d'Phiarlan.

[mirrorballtales]

“I look to you when I see nothing.”

So I played “Playlist Roulette” and I got “Tell me your romantic, cheesy, lovey dovey, in-love playlist.”

And my playlist has been in the making since Spring of 2011, which is actually the title of the playlist. Well earlier if we’re being technical but we’re not and Spring sounds nice. Some songs I’d heard well before then. Others seemed to capture that indescribable feeling. Others captured that sickening feeling of realizing your feelings and others are not specifically tied to anything. They’re just sweet songs. They’re in no particular order but I’ll share my favorite lyrics.

1. Just A Kiss by Lady A

“I'm caught up in this moment

Caught up in your smile

I've never opened up to anyone

So hard to hold back when I'm holdin' you in my arms”

2. Don’t You by Taylor Swift (this is my favorite song of hers. Yes my #1!)

“Don’t you, don’t you smile at me and ask me how I’ve been.

Don’t you say you’ve missed me if you don’t want me again.”

3. Enchanted by Taylor Swift

Can I quote the entire song?

“This night is sparkling, don't you let it go

I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew”

I’m going to brag right now - I went on a date on October 2011 to THE Speak Now World Tour. My oh my, have times changed. He bought the tickets like two weeks before. I talked his ear off about Taylor and sure enough he surprised me. It is the best date I’ve ever been on. And to hear Enchanted for the first time live? With the guy I really liked but barely knew? It is something I’ll always remember. One of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me. So this song will always be really special to me.

4. Need You Now by Lady A

“And I wonder if I ever cross your mind

For me it happens all the time”

My friends and I would do karaoke to this song. Choreographed it. There is video of this, unfortunately. Best song to scream the lyrics to and have a shot of whiskey with.

5. State of Grace (Acoustic Version) by Taylor Swift

“And I never saw you coming

and I’ll never be the same

You come around and the armor falls”

6. Sparks by Coldplay

“I’ll always look out for you.”

I heard this song in Wedding Crashers and for some reason I always related to the scene it plays in.

7. About You by The 1975

“Do you think I have forgotten

About you?

There was something 'bout you that now I can't remember

It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender

And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning”

Oh how much do I love this song, apparently so much it was my #1 song this year. Oops. It’s specifically when she starts singing.

8. Stay With You by The Goo Goo Dolls

“And I'll stay with you

The walls will fall before we do

So take my hand now

We'll run forever

I can feel the storm inside you

I'll stay with you”

AND

“Take what you need from me.”

I just think for me, this is the ultimate act of love, in any form. Giving yourself whole to someone in the name of saving them, seeing their pain and choosing to stay and never letting go of that hand.

9. willow by Taylor Swift

“Show me the places where the others left you scars.”

10. Call Your Mom by Noah Kahan

Before I get into it I just have to say it’s a heavy song. It’s painful, almost. I break down each time I listen to it. It’s from the perspective of someone who is trying to help this person stay. Telling them to please find a reason to not go. To fight. To keep going. It’s gut-wrenching. It’s someone begging you to stay. It hits me hard because quite frankly, if I’m being absolutely gun-to-my-head-honest, I don’t know that anyone would beg me to stay. Which you know I won’t get into but it’s why this song hits me so profoundly and why it chokes me up. The idea that someone would beg me to stay. Oooof. I think it paints the portrait of saying I’m with you in the darkness but you are not alone.

“Medicate, meditate, swear your soul to Jesus

Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason

Don't wanna drive another mile wonderin' if you're breathin'

So, won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me?”

11. Ours (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift

Admittedly, the original(stolen) version is my favorite. It’s sweet and innocent and always reminds me of the beginning of things. I always think of December 2011. I listen to the first chords and am transported to a time of innocence and uncertainty and this invincibility I felt then.

“And it’s not theirs to speculate if it’s wrong and your

hands are tough but they are where mine belong in

I’ll fight their doubt and give you faith with this

song for you”

12. Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

I’d like to quote the entire damn song. I don’t need to explain this song. It is one of the greatest songs ever made.

“And I'd give up forever to touch you

'Cause I know that you feel me somehow

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't want to go home right now

'Cause all I can taste is this moment

And all I can breathe is your life

So and sooner or later, it's over

I just don't wanna miss you tonight”

13. Snow On The Beach (feat Lana Del Rey) by Taylor Swift

“You wanting me. Tonight feels impossible”

“I can’t speak, afraid to jinx it. I don’t even dare to

wish it.”

It’s ethereal. It’s magical. It’s like snow on the beach. There isn’t a song quite like this. And I can’t put into words what I feel when I hear

14. hoax by Taylor Swift

15. You Are In Love by Taylor Swift

[starilicious]

der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Paroxysm {side story}

paroxysm:   a sudden attack or violent expression of a particular emotion or activity

Put under the cut for violence and blood

-------------

His skull felt as if were about to split in two.  The pain coming from his right side meant that he had either cracked or broken ribs.  Blood was dripping down his robes, he-they hadn’t the time to spare to completely heal the gash that had nicked the arteries in his neck, just barely missing the main one.  And at the rate he was channeling aether, he was either going to pass out from exhaustion or give himself a brain bleed.  Probably both.  Mathye gritted his teeth, arms shaking from the strain.  A Haima barrier was the only thing keeping a dragonblood frenzied Reinhardt off him.  But Mathye didn’t know how much longer he and Hrist could last.  He could burn his own dragonfire, but that was an absolute last resort.  Brucemont would have his hands full with one Light-blessed dragoon, two would completely overwhelm him.

“Reinhardt, for fuck’s sake!”  Twelve, it hurt just to simply breathe.  Another blow came from the younger dragoon’s fists against the barrier.  But following it was the sickening sound of glass beginning to crack.  A fresh spike of pain assulated Mathye, and he gasped.  Stress cracks were appearing in the stained-glass pattern of the Haima barrier.  Desperately, the sage tried to summon one last reserve of strength--but could only watch dumbly as the barrier finally gave way.  With a snarl, Reinhardt fell upon Mathye.  A powerful kick made the black-haired man double over, and Reinhardt followed up by snatching his fellow Companion by the throat.  Metallic claw-tips digging in, he flung Mathye across the room.  Unable to brace himself properly for the impact, Mathye crashed into the wall and collapsed onto the floor in a heap.  With a low moan he tried to push himself up, but failed.  Hrist was whimpering in his ears, she’d overextended herself too.  The medic tried to focus on the slowly advancing dragoon, but his vision was blurry and doubled.

“Reinhardt...”  Mathye swallowed.  His voice was a raspy wheeze.  “Reinhardt...Paien.  Snap out of it...”  If Reinhardt heard him, there was no indication.  He continued walking towards Mathye, his eyes a glowing draconic blue.  Red scales glittered on certain points of his skin, and his gauntleted fingers resembled claws.  There was no cognitive recognition in his gaze, only murder.  And overlying it all was Paien, thrumming a dragonsong of fear and rage--but primarily fear.  Mathye swallowed, bowing his head.  Everything hurt.  Everything hurt, and he had no idea when Brucemont was going to arrive--or any help for that matter.  But he had one last desperate gambit before he gave into his curse...and for that, Reinhardt needed to get within grabbing range.  Blinking blood out of his eyes, Mathye pushed himself into a sitting position...

And watched as a blur of black and gold appeared out of nowhere, crashing into Reinhardt. 

“Bishop!!”  Heustienne’s voice, she was suddenly next to him.  “Halone--you’re a mess!  Lucian!!”

“No!” Mathye barked.  He reached out-grabbing the pink-armored dragoon by the arm.  “Need to-I can get him to calm down--”

-------------

Brucemont let himself tumble end over end with Reinhardt, Bastien a thrumming hum in his ears.  Paien’s panic-filled melody threatened their sanity--and if that couldn’t be broken soon, Reinhardt was going to fully turn.  Landing on his back, Brucemont shoved out with his legs as hard as he could.  Reinhardt was sent flying backward, but he twisted mid-air to land gracefully on all fours against the wall.  A snarl escaped him as he stared at Brucemont scrambling to his feet.

“Reinhardt and Paien, wake up!  You’re safe!”  Brucemont snapped, Bastien bleeding into his voice and distorting it.  Reinhardt only snarled again at that-and lunged forward, hands outstretched, a literal blur of flesh and white metal.  But as he did so, Brucemont and Bastien heard Paien’s song start to falter.  The younger inner dragon had burned too much power, which meant his dragoon would be weakening.  And if that was the case... Brucemont dropped into a low crouch, waiting.  As Reinhardt closed the gap, he sprung up--meeting the hyur full force with a throttle, putting all his power into the impact.  His and Bastien’s will against Reinhardt and Paien’s--and for the latter, it was the equivalent of slamming into a brick wall.  Armorless. 

It also left them wide open.  A fact Brucemont was quick to capitalize on--as he immediately chokeslammed Reinahrdt as hard as he could onto the rug-covered floor. 

The bodyblow left Reinhardt momentarily stunned, and Brucemont didn’t hesitate.  His full weight--and Bastien’s--landed atop the hyur.  Reinhardt cried out, but Brucemont didn’t let up--scrambling behind Reinhardt to put him into a sleeper hold.  Reinhardt snarled, trying to buck Brucemont off, but he couldn’t get a good angle.

“You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe...”  Brucemont chanted.  Reinhardt bucked, but the elezen could feel the hyur beginning to weaken.  Bastien was singing soothingly to Paien, whose voice was starting to fade.  

“Reinhardt, I swear to Halone--really, I wasn’t in the mood for this bullshite--”  Brucemont tightened his grip as Reinhardt bucked once more, a desperate cry coming from him. “Fir-First Lance?!”  Brucemont started--but didn’t slacken his grasp.  Reinhardt wheezed, and then both Brucemont and Bastien felt the aetherical drop as the frenzy released it’s grip on the younger duo.  Reinhardt’s body tensed, and then suddenly went slack as the crash hit him, dragging both him and Paien straight into unconsciousness.

Paroxysm {1} here Paroxysm {2} here

[descensionrite]

@constellaris​ continued

Those fine chains that have long dug into his soul, the restraints bore into this vessel by people that have long passed, the sight before him only stirs the memories that had been locked on that day by a higher power herself in fear of what the earth would cry on the day that even the heavens would shake. Amber eyes slowly dilating before his lover’s eyes and something in the air snaps, shadows eclipse the male’s face from his bangs hanging before his eyes before slowly lips part as he slowly takes a kneel, a low note hangs in his throat, he can feel how the tainted creature recoils, there's no physical attack but it acts as if there was as soon as his clawed hand gently grasps Ajax’s bow, a kiss placed to the temple of the other’s forehead before slowly rising, the string pulling tight before the streak of pure energy that demolishes the beast on contact, it explodes from the inside out as crystals rupture from it’s body.

“ Hung pictures of gods up on my wall....To remind me that I am a fool...”

The low note slips hauntingly as he slowly places the bow back to his lover’s grasp, something behind the god’s frame slowly sliding across the ground just as the bow returns to it’s rightful owner, just as the brunette makes his way forward, a pale glow from his claws that slowly begin to glow at the edges

“....Tell me where I came from, what I will always be.... Just a weapon who went to those higher...”

Recognition seems to flare in the Abyss Lectors, the fear that permeates is unmistakable, the weapons in hand quiver before steam rises from the depths of seemingly nowhere, slowly eclipsing the god as the sickening crunch of bones rearranging themselves within the form he had taken. Gnarled limbs slowly move as the tips of claws dig into the edges of the ground, leaving scrapes just as the next notes echo through the air, the same song had once been sung five hundred years ago after all...

“When I am dead I won't join their ranks 'Cause they are both holy and free upon the battlefield...Horrid and Chained, until the end...”

The rest of the song is hummed, perhaps to save what sanity seems to be clinging to the now ‘unchained’ god, the horns curve at the edges at the rate they form, their once brilliant glow has dulled, a spiked tail smashes into the ground before a claw snags one of the lectors from the steam, blood splatters as crystals rip through armor and flesh, the ungodly screams as the towering frame of Rex Lapis stands at a horrifying Thirteen feet tall, easily dwarfing them as his other claw slams the other one into the ground, their elements scraping over his scaled body that hardens, fragments of the armor that made up the body of the lector still alive begins to crack, the screams ring through the air as he takes his time, crystals slowly beginning to form that push through flesh from the inside out, he only stops his torture when he manages to remember that he had someone watching this brutal mutilation of the Abyss.

Slowly he releases both corpse’s, pushing himself upward as his frame remains slightly hunched, the echoing footsteps as he returns to the other’s side, there is no gleam, there is no splendor.

There is simply Rex Lapis, true to his nature and should any other archon have witnessed the sight? Perhaps they would shy away, perhaps they would tremble? Memories of that day would be in everyone’s mind should they have been there to witness the breaking of the chains placed upon him that day to prevent such brutality to ever rise to the surface again. Slowly he crouches besides the other, having to place one of his forearms to steady his form as he seems to debate upon picking the other up, would they even wish for him to do so?

[stormxpadme]

​

Whumptober 2021

No. 17 - hemorrhage

T.A. 2981

"What were you thinking?" When the last of grey-skinned, screeching enemies had fallen victim to an arrow of his at last, Aragorn wasted no time sprinting towards the pile of huge rocks where he'd last seen one of his foster brothers.

For the other, he looked out in vain for the moment and very much hoped that wouldn't be another problem on his hands in a minute. Elladan had ridden off once he'd been sure Elrohir and Aragorn could handle the rest of this highly violent orc tribe, to chase down a few escapees and keep them, with the usual tranquilizing shots, from attacking yet another village of Men anytime soon before reinforcements from Imladris could handle them for good.

  And things had gone entirely smoothly for a while; nothing more than a few light scratches and a pulled muscle or two. But then an orc had jumped from the top of that damn broken monument unexpectedly, almost decapitating Aragorn in the process, and Elrohir had apparently forgotten that Aragorn had been well capable of taking care of his own behind for the last two decades or so, thank you very much. That had been a pretty brutal impact against the stony surface when his brother had hurried to his side and another of the dark creatures had used the moment of Elrohir's cover dropping to ram him with his whole massive, plump body, slowed down only marginally by the dagger Aragorn had thrown at his chest. So Aragorn had not exactly been surprised that Elrohir hadn't rejoined him in taking care of the last of these bastards. Since the orc had stopped moving immediately once the elvish blade that had cut through his armor like butter, there had been no reason to worry about anything but Elrohir's thick head hurting for a few hours when he woke up.

  How wrong he was about that, Aragorn only realized when he hoisted the enemy's lifeless body from his brother's with some effort and a single look at Elrohir's ashen face and his fluttering eyelids let him know something wasn't right at all. Then he saw the quickly growing pool of blood staining the dried out grass below them. "What …?" Dread and guilt about his own ignorance pooling in his stomach, he dropped below his brother's lithe shape, agitated hands searching hectically for some kind of wound that Elrohir's dark leather tunics were still hiding from him.

  "Whoa, save that for my sister." Judging by Elrohir's slurred but mostly amused voice when he came around, he hadn't even realized it himself that the enemy had done some possibly fatal damage before his death. "Did you get them all?" Ignoring Aragorn's attempt to hold him still by his shoulder, Elrohir braced himself up on his elbows and tried to sit up but fell back with a hiss and reached down to his loins, eyes widening in shock when his hand came back up covered in blood. Well, there it was.

  "Lie still," Aragorn gritted through his teeth, already busy with bandages and the bag of herbs on his belt. But now that he actually knew what he was looking for, his heart was sinking faster with every passing second.

  Some dagger tip, probably, or a sharp edge of the orc's armor. Whatever it was that had grazed Elrohir's body there right next to his left hip bone had ripped open the possibly worst patch of flesh. No matter how thick the bundle of linen he used to press down on the bleeding, it was soaked through almost immediately. Now, finally, it reached Elrohir's clouded mind, too, that he was in a lot of trouble. He turned another shade paler, thin lips tight as he took the next makeshift bandage from Aragorn's hand and shoved it down on the wound himself, using the superior strength of his people, which elicited a sickening crack of bones and a suppressed groan from his lips and still didn't seem to help a lot. "You need to find Elladan. This is a case for song, not for herbs."

  "If you think I'm leaving you here, you have forgotten more about me in the last few years than is befit for your race." Aragorn rummaged in his bag once more but couldn't come up with anything helpful. His most effective tools were back in his chambers in Elrond's palace. Eru, he'd never let his brothers go on a hunt with him without any armor on.

  "Estel, we don't have time …"

  "Exactly. We don't." He rested his hand on Elrohir's forehead, then on his cheek, trying his best to swallow the panic that started to choke him. "You're shivering. Keep your eyes on me, 'Ro. Don't even think about it. You'd be dead before we returned."

  "I'm afraid that's yesterday's news, little brother." The sudden exhausted melancholy in Elrohir's smile hit him like a punch to the gut and increased his hopelessness. He'd seen this look on too many friends in his time in the armies of Men, and not a lot of them had left that respective battlefield alive. That damn bandage was already useless again, rivulets of thick red pouring through Elrohir's long fingers almost unhindered. When Aragorn reached for the same spot once more, Elrohir stopped him with his other, still surprisingly strong hand around his wrist. "Useless, Estel. You'd need to sew or sing it shut, and you can't do either. So stop and listen to me. I need you to tell ada … What are you doing?"

"Something more productive than listen to your will." Involuntarily, when Aragorn had almost been close to giving up himself, Elrohir had given him an idea for a last desperate measure. It was insane and would probably fail, too, but if he didn't try, he'd have to watch one of his foster brothers die in just a few minutes anyway. He wasn't exactly gentle when he grabbed Elrohir's chin and pushed his head to the side to open the two clasp of the long, narrow jewel his brother was wearing from the pointed tip of his ear down almost to his lobe. A gift of the twins' mother if Aragorn remembered right, and it didn't feel proper to defile it like that, but he was pretty sure Celebrían would have agreed with him that Elrohir's life was a lot more important than a little silver and a couple of crystals. He took the sharp-edged gem between his lips to clean it at least superficially and fumbled with the lock of a fragile necklace next that Arwen had given him for his last birthday. "You were saying?" He still wasn't overly interested in whatever last words for his family Elrohir was trying to give him, at least not until he could be sure he would actually have to hear them. But as long as his brother was talking, he was alive, and as long as he was distracted, he wouldn't think too hard about why Aragorn was hooking the end of that chain to the broader end of the earring.

  "I'm saying you need to learn how to give up a battle when it's over." The elf's warm, deep voice was starting to sound concerningly slow and quiet, his gaze slowly turning unfocused. A moment later, life returned to those heavy eyes, pupils going wide in new shock, and a shrill scream tore from Elrohir's lips. Good. Not exactly merciful but hopefully the energy that his body would need if Aragorn wanted to keep it alive until help would come.

  An uncoordinated hand tried to push him away instinctively, but he'd expected that and leaned down on his brother's chest with one knee, blocking both his arm and his eyes from having to witness how he punctured the improvised, far too-thick needle through already butchered flesh a second time, this time on the other side of that gaping cut.

  The scream was even louder this time, followed by a dry retch and a confused, pleading whimper.

  But Aragorn didn't stop, no matter how badly it tore his heart in two, having to give someone he loved so much such terrible pain. His hands worked as automatically as a song of healing left his lips, not half as powerful as anything an elvish healer could have done, but it would bring at least some urgently needed heaviness and calmness into his brother's soul while he pulled his makeshift thread of silver through those holes he'd punched and tugged close whatever was left of Elrohir's skin in this critical spot.

  The hand clenched tightly in his cloak fell to the ground, and there was no more screaming, but his brother was still breathing, and that was all that counted for now. Six more holes and a firm knot later, there was at least hardly any more blood for the moment.

  Aragorn fell to the ground with a sound somewhere between a sigh and a sob on his lips and raised his hands to his face to wipe it, only to realize that his gloves and fingertips were bathed in red. Suddenly, he felt a little like throwing up himself.

  Fortunately, he had no time to think about for long what by the stars he'd just done there, because in the distance, he could hear the thunderous beat of barefoot hoofs on the ground, letting him know, Elladan had probably heard his brother's wailing either from the distance or in their mental twin bond and given up on the last of enemies he might still have caught. Right now, there were far more important things to do.

  Aragorn had no illusions that once this war would get really bad as Mithrandir had foreseen it, there were many people in his life, elf and man and other friends alike, whom he'd have to say good-bye to, but this was not such a day. The shadow had not triumphed yet.

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

@whumptober2021​ | @whumptober-archive

[skelanonymous]

Song Prompt 3

Song - Looking at Me by Sabrina Carpenter

Skeleton - Killer Prob Murder Trio

Words - 3.3k

I cannot stress enough, listen to the song at least once. It’s a BOP. 

@inertiaambition I made a decision. I hope you can appreciate it anyway. ^^’

-

“Accompany the others. You’ll learn best that way.” Cross stood up straighter, trying to impress his new boss. Nightmare had found him in his timeline and brought him in under the agreement he’d serve directly under him as a hired mercenary of sorts. He hadn’t hesitated to say yes. Anything was better than his timeline, empty as it was.

“Yes sir. Where should I meet them?” Cross was confident in his skills but he wanted to scope out these others he’d be working with. Nightmare’s satisfied smile filled Cross with foreboding. 

“They’re just outside the door.” 

The door opened to three very different looking skeletons, all a little...off. He waited for Nightmare to introduce him.

“Heya Boss. We gunna make a move on that rude kingdom or what?” A skeleton in white shorts, this guy had some sort of black paint traced down from his eyes.

“Patience Killer. I was preparing the new team member to join you. This is Cross.” His cyan eye traced over to the skeleton with a giant crack in his skull. “Try to dedicate it to memory Horror.”

“Gotcha Boss.” Horror dragged an axe behind him, hauling it up when Nightmare made the portal. “Orders?” Night scoffed.

“Wipe that pitiful place from the map. Show him what I expect. And Cross?” He snapped to attention. “It’s your first outing, so let me illuminate: I don’t have patience for failure so do not disappoint me.” Then he waved them off to their mission. “Now go.”

They all jumped through quickly, hitting the ground just on the outskirts of a smaller castle, hidden by the shadow of the treeline from the eyes of the guards pacing along the tower tops. 

“So newbie, here’s the deal. Follow us, and try not to get in the way. Don’t get much easier than kill everyone, so remember these faces and aim at anyone else.” Killer cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders, bouncing on his knees. “Anything to add there Dust?”

“Don’t die.” Dust turned his odd colored eyes over to the fresh blood. Cross suppressed a shiver while Killer howled like a hyena.

“Holy shit Dusty, you’re great. Yeah, don’t do that. I’m good to go. You ready Horror?” Killer flipped out a blade from nowhere, too fast for Cross to even see. It glinted in the moonlight. The lumbering skeleton turned to face Killer before walking towards the place.

“Yeah.”

The first wall took no time to breach. Horror had broken down the front door and they walked right in. Unfortunately, a guard drill was taking place in the courtyard, so it had most of the armed forces right within view.

“Hang back guys. I got this one.” Killer winked at Cross. “Take notes.” Cross rolled his eyes. There were near fifteen heavily armed men in front of them, and Cross felt five would be a good match for himself, considering their stats he could check. He leaned back on the wall behind him, keeping an eye on the peripheral for back up.

Killer rushed headlong into the action, a stupid move by most accounts, but he’d moved so fast. His blade ran clean through one soldier, armor and all. He flung him off his knife with a flourish.

“Let’s dance.”

He cleanly cut off the first taker’s arm, head with the second swing. He shoved the body forward, knocking over another, scaring a third. An attacker went for his back.

With a swing of his hips, he dodged the attack at his spine. He grabbed the blade and spun, using his back as leverage to wrench it out of the offender’s hands. He cut them off with his knife and blocked another sword swing with his stolen weapon.

Killer parried the next clash, crossing swords to slide down, handles pressed together, one of his hands to his opponent’s two. He pushed up with his elbow to create an opening to get clean through the chest. When he pushed this body back, he did it hard enough to impale another. Before the impaled bodies could fall, he snatched the blade handle again, kicking up one leg to force them off of it.

He jumped over the attack at his one leg, smashing a foot into the fifth’s jaw. It dislocated with a sickening crack. Sixth and seventh tried to attack at the same time, but ate a blade into their throats for the trouble. Killer swayed his way towards the rest, stopping to dig the sword through the first person he’d knocked over, trying to hide under a dead body. They wheezed out a final breath. 

Nine screamed a battle cry before rushing. Killer tossed his knife up, taking the sword right through the ribs and repaid the favor. Nine’s body fell to the ground. Killer pulled the sword out and spun to chuck them directly into No-Hands and Dislocated Jaw’s skull. He caught his knife with a grin

Six left. Cross had forgotten to breathe.

Killer ran up to horrified bystander Ten, stabbing upwards through their chin, yanking out the knife when the light in their eyes died. He grabbed the mace off their corpse. He got in one full wind up before smashing into Eleven’s sneak attack. Twelve hadn’t expected the just as fast throw, eating the spikes in seconds flat in a bloody spray.

“Fuck you!” Unlucky Thirteen attempted to swing for the throat, but Killer wasn’t having it. With a quick duck, he’s wrenched his hand under the front of the plate armor to gut the poor idiot. His hand slid down Thirteen’s horrified face, blood dribbling out of his mouth that Killer dragged his fingers through.

“No, fuck you.” His voice drops to something husky, eyes half lidded with the thrill of it. LV felt good in the moment, the burns wouldn’t come until the next day, or maybe not at all, Cross couldn’t tell anymore if he was dealing with a skeleton bound by the same physical limits as his own.

“I’m always good for a threesome.” He stalks towards Fourteen and Fifteen, gracefully as a tiger, waiting to pounce.

“You sick freak!” One went for him, trying to use the shield he was holding, but Killer was faster. 

“Always.” He kicked hard at Fourteen’s left knee, bending it fully the wrong way. He collapsed with a scream, escalating to inhuman wails when he yanks the shield off so hard, it dislocates the left shoulder and right elbow. He finished with a clean neck snap, Fourteen dropping as a pretzel of a man.

Fifteen couldn’t breathe a word before Killer’s knife was embedded in his right forearm. It’s wretched high above his head, left wrist going limp in a vice grip.

“Let’s finish this little performance, shall we?” The knife dragged up to catch on the wrist, curved to hook and drag the bloody mess along with Killer’s tango, stepping in time to the horrified screeching.

He unhooked the knife to spin his partner outward. Killer yanked him back, letting go just before Killer met his chest. 

With a twirl, he decapitated Fifteen with a flair, blood spurting into a light shower over his skull. He met Cross’s eyes when he licked the blood spray off his teeth.

Dust sarcastically clapped, Killer bowing to his ‘audience.’ Horror grumbled about wasting something, but Cross can’t hear it over the loud clang that follows. When he turns to the courtyard again, a new challenger has appeared.

A hulking knight, he glared at Killer and pulls out his greatsword with a patient rage, controlled and channeled. He raised the point of it at Killer’s amused grin.

“You shall fall here beast.” Killer didn’t move. Barely acknowledges that the contender spoke at all, just changed his stance, ready to take whatever this guy has to dish out.

The huge knight swung his blade into the confident Killer. Beside him, he could hear the light shuffle of slippers. Cross couldn’t look away from the clash, the blood spattered Killer blocking the arc with his knife but the unexpected amount of pure power broke through his guard and flung him into the wall. The blade followed the path, about to cut into Killer’s arm, but another blade clashed with his.

“Mind if I cut in?” Dust stood over Killer, holding the sword back with one hand.

“Heh, show off. Go ahead.” Killer stuck his tongue out. He laughed, shaking his head at the knight. “You’re fucked dude.” 

“You monsters won’t best me! I will defend the princess!” The knight swung again, but Dust didn’t flinch when it made contact. He pushed back with no effort, knight thrown off balance.

Dust’s approach was as instantaneous as it was inescapable. He appeared behind the hulking opponent in a flash to dig his knife in as deep as it could go into Sixteen’s side. Just as quickly, it was out and Dust returned to before Sixteen’s eyes. 

“Wh-wha-what?” Sixteen’s hand dropped to the fresh wound, disbelieving but unable to turn back. He returned to his confident stance, ready for another attack.

By now, Killer had moved away from the immediate area, freeing up Dust to do whatever he wanted without friendly fire as a consideration. Cross watched carefully for whatever technique Dust would show, especially after the artistry Killer performed.

Sixteen let loose a flurry of attacks. Cross evaluated his area control. His greatsword thrusted forward, curving and swinging to cover the entire field Dust occupied. 

Dust’s smooth evasion was faster. Sixteen couldn’t hit him, only able to hit the air in the last place he could track with his eyes. On the flip side, Dust yawned. When he got truly bored, he caught an attack directly against the knife hilt. He blinked into Sixteen’s face, giving him a matching wound on the other side. 

This time though, Sixteen anticipated it, smashing his armored elbow down into Dust’s skull, the point catching Dust’s cheek even as he dodged backwards.

A thin red line. It stood out against his dusty complexion, matching his determined eyes. Dust freed his blade, blinked back, then raised his fingers to touch it. He wiped off a streak.

“Heh.” Dust pressed the finger into his mouth, eyes getting wider and wider. “Heh heh…HahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The taste of his own blood flipped the switch. Cross felt the air shift, a bolt of terror striking him from just one glance at those mad eyes.

“Thank you! NOW DIE!”

The knight swung to intercept. Dust cut the blade in two. He reached him in two steps.

“HEH HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Dust kicked the center of Sixteen’s chest, flinging him into the wall he’d dropped from not much earlier. Dust followed along to ram the blade into Sixteen’s wielding shoulder. He stomped on the greatsword handle, clattering to the ground under the newly broken fingers.

Dust giggled, knife dug an inch in, tracing absurd patterns into his screaming opponent. Sixteen begged for death before Dust had plucked out the first eye.

The second eye had taken another two minutes, before the psycho finally got bored and slid his weapon solidly into Sixteen’s heart, between his ribs, humming when the heart stopped beating around the knife, body vibrating with the need to silence every heartbeat he could hear.

Dust grinned at Cross while he laughed, turning to Killer with wide eyes.

“I’m done putting on a show. Can we kill them now?” 

“I’d never stop you from killing Dusty. I’ll let you pick which wing you want even.” Killer cackled when Dust took off like a rocket down the right path, only the echoes of Dust’s psychotic laughter and screams drifting back in their direction. Cross almost followed, but a hand dropped on his shoulder.

“Dust’ll kill you. He don’t do control very well.” Horror’s vacant stare impressed the danger upon him. “Only warning you get. Let’s finish up.”

Cross walked directly across the courtyard to the back of the castle, cutting down whoever he came across, trailed by Horror who kept his back clear with his wide axe cuts. Killer had gone down the left wing. 

Cross took in Horror compared to the other two. There really wasn’t a comparison between them. Killer and Dust had power and grace, smooth and calculated in battle. Cuts were even and precise, like a planned wound that they could see before it happened, skills borne of a million kills to know the outcome. 

Horror’s axe cut unevenly, not kept pristinely sharp like their weapons. He lugged it behind him, eyes unfocused, just cutting down whatever stood ahead. He attacked whatever he could swing at. Clean kills apparently didn’t matter, the only technique he could even parse out was hitting the same spot more than once, focused damage dealt like one chopped down a tree. Horror also didn’t appear to have nearly as much strength as the other two abominations, not struggling per say, but seemed to be near Cross’s level or slightly below in pure power. Nightmare keeping him eased Cross’s mind about not fitting in with the absolute monsters that were Killer and Dust.

They ended up in a throne room, throne overturned to a tunnel beneath. The princess must’ve been evacuated during the shuffle.

“Did we lose some of them?” Killer leaned against the doorway, looking less than impressed. “The princess can’t survive, she’ll just cause trouble.”

“I can’t feel any more souls in the castle.” Dust stepped around the other side of the doorway. His face looked a little calmer, though his hands trembled with bloodlust. Cross tried to breathe through his raising anxiety. He REALLY didn’t wait to fail Nightmare on day one.

“She’s not far.” Horror stooped down to the ground, looking at the torn carpet beside the throne. His eyes closed, taking in a deep breath. “Got it. Let’s go.”

Dust wordlessly held out his hand, taking Horror away in a blip. Killer swaggered up to offer his own to Cross.

“You ain’t gunna want to miss this Criss Cross.” Cross stared at the bloody hand with disdain. He took it, disgusted. They reappeared at the edge of the forest behind the castle, Horror and Dust just ahead. Too distracted, he didn’t catch Killer yanking him down until he almost fell over.

“What are you!-”

“I saw your fucking eyes.” Killer pointed his knife over Cross’s nasal crest. “You best pay attention newbie. You might think you’re not the bottom of the totem pole, but let me tell ya, ya’re outclassed.” He dragged the tip softly down the line of his eye socket. “Watch closely and realize you ain’t got shit on ANY of us.” He dropped Cross to walk over to the duo moving along the forest’s edge, Cross hitting the dirt hard.

Holy shit, Nightmare employed some crazy bastards. 

Killer had a point though, he HAD judged Horror, found him lacking, and moved on. The recognition of his judgement wasn’t disproved yet though. He followed over to the group, barely making it before Horror’s head snapped to the right.

“There.” Horror leaned down to grab a few stones before taking off through the woods. The other two walked into the dark with him.

Killer, Dust, and Cross moved through the underbrush, trying to keep up with Horror’s quick walk. He twisted and turned without thought, following an invisible trail that he alone could track, not halted by any of the obstacles of the forest at night. It took all of Cross’s focus to walk steadily and not tumble over something gnarled and wet in all this black.

Cross squinted at the hunter, trying to see the thread he was following. By the light, he could see nothing to follow, no trail of broken branches and muddy footprints to track. Hearing when they were all behind him making an equal if louder sound seemed out of the question.

He turned to Killer to ask, but Killer had a finger on his teeth. Quiet. Then slowly tapped his nose. It took Cross fifteen long seconds.

He...was following her SCENT?! Where would he have even got the initial whiff? Got it. Then?! That’d been instantaneous and faint to begin with.

Compared to the massive crunching sounds Cross could hear from himself and the other two, Horror’s movement was suddenly silent. He’d hauled his axe up off the ground, sliding between trees without so much as a scrape, silently tracking until his head cricked to the side while walking. Without a word, he plucked a stone out of his pocket and chucked it off to the left. There was the sound of wood being chipped, then the softer sound of crunching. Horror turned towards the right, still quiet as the grave.

Even Cross could tell she was close.

With a slowly widening grin, he took off right, racing ahead with remarkably quiet speed. The crunches dwarfed those of the target, whose hurried stumbling across the roots of the trees rang like thunder by comparison. 

Another pebble, flung with precision, and the princess practically ran into Horror’s arms.

“Good try.”

“AHHHHH!” She flailed back, falling onto the ground still screaming. To the side, he could hear the soft chuckles of the other two, looking at Horror and his prey with amused anticipation.

Horror raised his axe for a killing blow. The princess tried to punch him, but he dodged so her hand slipped by. He turned his head to line up his mouth with the forearm presented. 

Horror caught Cross’s eye and smirked as he opened his jaw and bit down.

She screamed bloody murder when he took out the chunk, swinging down the axe to take the whole limb off at the shoulder. The loose arm hung from his mouth. He reached up to grab the elbow, pulling to tear off a chunk of the meat. Horror swallowed with a satisfied rumble. The princess cowered under him, frozen when he raised the axe again.

Right at the neck, curved to break the bones down into her sternum. It came free with a wet squelch. Horror grabbed at each side of the crooked break, yanking her warm corpse open with horrifying creaks and pops as the bones gave way, leaking red and revealing the varied organs within her body. Horror’s hand dug around and pulled back with his prize.

He bit into the heart like an apple. Cross wasn’t even sure it had stopped beating. The thought made bile rise in his throat, taking one step back. Horror chewed away, completely relaxed as they made their way back.

“Judge and you’ll be next.” Dust met Cross’s eyes before turning to walk next to Horror. Killer sidled up next to Cross.

“Have fun with the inferiority complex bastard.” Killer’s sharp smile burned into Cross’s mind. 

The entire evening had made one thing very clear: his work was cut out for him.

The portal home opened and they stepped in, the castle’s carpets beneath their feet in an instant. Nightmare looked up from his paperwork. He made eye contact with Cross, holding it until sweat formed on his skull.

“We killed everyone in the area.” Cross reported. Nightmare leaned back, soaking in the positively delicious negative emotions pouring off his overwhelmed brain.

“Wonderful. Then again, I sent you with my best.” Nightmare crossed his fingers to rest his chin on them, endlessly amused. “So, did you learn anything from them Cross?”

“I have a lot of work to do.” 

“The correct answer. Killer, lead him to the free room, shower, and training area. I’m sure our new recruit has need of all of them.” He spun his chair around to stare out the giant glass overlook of their courtyard.

“Gotcha Boss.” Nightmare inclined his head, facing them one more time as they made the move to exit.

“Good night Cross, and welcome to my castle.”

-

You said Killer prob because I get that the song is totally his vibe, but man, he’s the biggest show off while killing and I needed it. I promise I have fluff for other ones. 

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Trieste Venture (End) - S Nami Bolg

In this entry, the MC sings a song that is commonly heard in Russia around Christmas time though it’s not necessarily a Christmas Song.

"We actually survived." Lu Mingfei gasped. "I thought several times that I should start chanting poems."

Chu Zihang was next to you, checking your blood pressure. You were still far too weak to participate in the conversation. Or even get annoyed at Mingfei again. All your strength reserves were completely exhausted. Caesar was strapped into his seat but still out cold.

So he prattled on. "I used to read a book and said that Japanese generals would recite a death poem when they died." He rolled his eyes up to the sky. "What is "Heaven" There must be light at the end, and the clouds and mists are scattered. There is only a bright moon in the heart. Forty-nine years of prosperity, a dream, a wine cup in the first phase of glory, and what else is there? When I wake up, I will go to sleep", he recited. "I thought that was particularly sensational."

　　"It wasn't that they started chanting just before they died," Chu Zihang said. "In fact, most Japanese military commanders have a mediocre level of education. They used to find someone who could write poetry to do it well, and they just chanted before they died. "

　　"That’s what I said. What if I only say 'Heroes forgive me, there are no poems left?’"

Chu Zihang let the air out of the blood pressure cuff and held up his blade. "I need to check your blood. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." You turn away but can help but flinch when the blade scores your skin.

What comes out is a mixture of crimson and inky black ooze. It seemed to be a fifty fifty ratio. 

"Is it bad?"

"It's not good. If you use Blood Rage again there's no saving you. I'll have to kill you."

"Thanks."

Chu Zihang suddenly stared at you, unsure of what you're thanking him for. If he asked, you're not sure you could answer.

"I feel dizzy."

"We're low on oxygen… but also Something else survived," Chu Zihang said.

You looked at the screen, thousands of black shadows were floating up from the bottom of the sea at high speed, gathering together like black vortexes. The group of mermaid hybrids, the last group who escaped from Takamagahara, was exceptionally large; they were not affected by the nuclear explosion. A huge figure appeared in the black whirlpool formed by the mermaid group. Every time it swept the sea with its long tail, it was accompanied by countless undercurrents and countless whirlpools. The mermaids floated around it, because when the thing was swimming, an upward high-speed current was formed around it, just like fish schools like to migrate with giant whales sometimes. The fastest were already approaching the Trieste, and under the spotlight, their ice crystal-like tusks reflected dazzling light.

"Do you still want to chant poems now?" Chu Zihang asked.

"Like a hero!" Lu Mingfei sobbed.

The depth is about 3,000 meters, and when the inertia brought by the nuclear explosion shock wave is exhausted, they will have no way to accelerate.

Chu Zihang might be able to release Royal Fire again, but the submersible could not withstand the impact. The outer shell was making a frightening tearing sound, and the resin porthole was deforming at a speed visible to the naked eye. Royal Fire and the nuclear explosion shock wave caused irreversible damage to the shell of the deep submersible, so it would be nice if they could float to the surface in this way. The remaining hope is the safety rope. You're just waiting for Chisei's safety rope to pull.

"I seem to hear the sound of cracking eggs." Lu Mingfei whispered.

"This is our shell cracking." Chu Zihang said.

It did sound like the sound of an eggshell breaking, and the cracks slowly extended on the surface. The sound of metal tearing and curling was sickening, and it was followed by a "pop", and then the sound of fluid surging.

"It is leaking, but the water has not intruded into the cockpit." Chu Zihang said, "Trieste has a double metal shell, with light kerosene between the two layers. Now the shell is perforated and the kerosene is leaking."

"Hey Sumeru! Sumeru! Hurry! We need the support of a safety cable!" Chu Zihang yelled.

"They're not answering." You whisper. You're feeling sleepy. At any moment, your eyes will close and you won't open them again. Exhausted from the fight, Blood Rage and the serum, the lack of oxygen won't allow you to regain strength.

The Trieste stopped ascending, and now it was surrounded by a group of mermaids.

The behemoth floated in the observation window. It was a black dragon swinging its long tail in the sea. That was the thing that was struggling in the crack in the seabed just now. At the last moment it finally broke through the seabed and escaped. Its golden pupils are like giant candles, and its decayed body is draped with ancient armor. The armor is connected by layers of bronze chains. Between the bare ribs, swimming in the abdominal cavity, were a swarm of ghost tooth dragon vipers! It turns out that the body of this thing is the nest of the ghost tooth dragon viper. As if thousands of lights were lit at the same moment, the eyes of the sleeping fish all awoke. Endless numbers press to chew their way into the cockpit. The king of these mutants opens its mouth in a silent roar, and his teeth are as transparent as crystal.

To your oxygen starved brain, the lights of their eyes and the silvery flashing of scales and teeth become mixed with the dreamy memory of Christmas lights and falling snow.  You suddenly feel warm inside and smile. It was irritating, but Racoon Boy is right. You really want to sing right now.

S Nami Bolg, ‘God is With Us’ was that old Christmas song, a triumphant challenge to opponents. The lyrics said that if they so much as dared come against them, they would be met with a resounding defeat. But it was easy for children to learn, because all they needed to know were the words “God is With Us” to sing along after every verse.

In your mind, as you sing the lyrics in the mix of a voice and a hoarse whisper, you can hear the voices of your friends, older and younger, singing with you as you stare into the eyes of the decayed dragon without a trace of fear. You can almost feel Renata standing beside you. She always had a sweet voice and you worked to match the way hers sounded in your mind. You imagine her glancing at you with her coquettish, mischievous manner. Your attempts to match hers weren’t a challenge but what was friendship without at least a little rivalry?

So your voice grows stronger with hers trembling in the soprano range.

“God is with us! Understand this, O nations, and submit yourselves! Hear this, even to the farthest bounds of the earth. For God is With us… God is with us…”

Chu Zihang sat back in his seat with a soft sigh. By the third lyric, he could mouth the words, God is with us, in Russian.

The dragon slowly opened its ribs as to though answer this challenge, and the ghost tooth dragon vipers leaped out of their nest. They pounced on the Trieste. It was like the sound of millions of silkworms chewing on mulberry leaves, violently biting. Outside, the portholes are densely packed with the golden eyes of the fish and the teeth marks on the plexiglass are growing deeper. There were terrible sounds in all directions. The fish were not only biting the plexiglass, but also drilling holes in the metal bulkhead. Thousands of them are now swimming between the outer shell and the inner shell. These fish that can chew through anything, are eating the fiber optic cables and the insulation as though it were food.

The lights on the control consoles went out. The water pressure meter and the ampere meter swung to zero.

The last layer to protect them was the metal inner shell.

Chu Zihang reached out his hand to you and it closed around your fingers. “It was nice meeting you.” He said.

“Same.” You replied.

You turn to Lu Mingfei who took your other hand. “I’m also… very happy.” His voice was choked. “I’m sure… the Boss would say something heroic but… I’m sure he’s happy he met you too.”

You let out a breath. “It’s weird… I’m saying good-bye ag-...”

You never finish that sentence. The porthole collapsed and the sea filled the cockpit like a sledgehammer, breaking the supports holding your seat to the deck and then tearing you out of the seatbelts themselves. You’re violently sucked out of the cockpit and into the swirling ocean with nothing to protect you from the frigid water or the debris. Things are striking you and you’re filled with fear, but your eyes are squeezed tightly shut.

You feel a sudden burst of heat and the debris striking you is blown away. Royal Fire? You open your eyes but you can’t see anything but blue ocean and a bit of shining light. Your mind, finally starved completely, mercifully shuts down before you can even start to drown.