MOVED TO SCARLAMAGNE

All talks with other rebellion leaders had ended. Everyone had gone silent due to the recent arrest and execution of one of your allies. You, Valkyrie Ampora, are restless. At first, you took this moment of quiet as a blessing. You were going to marry Porrim and start life together before you finished your job. However, you now see it as a curse. It's an aching silence. Now you have no plans for the future. Yes, you have people who love you dearly, but you have no plan. There is no promise of a future anymore. So, now that you know you have no future, why not take a risk? Might as well die for this cause and show the empire how much you fucking hate it.

You and your allies had talked about multiple murder attempts of the empress and grand many times before. You had insider information on these two specifically, having worked closely with them in the past as a politician. You knew exactly where the Grand Highblood lived, worked, and went in his free time. You knew he spent as much time as possible in a slinky little juggalo bar called The Alley on the outskirts of the capital city. People tend to drool and fawn over others with power and he knew he could use that power to get as many one night stands as possible. He used to be quite upset that that power didn’t work on you.

Yes, Kurloz was the number one big chuckle now, but he wasn’t a man of much luxuries. He stayed true to the juggalo religion and stayed close to all the practitioners who wished to reach out to him. He was vocal, personal and relatable. On paper, he was a man of the people. Holy shit did people eat that up. You knew that in reality, Kurloz was a sleeze ball. He lacked morality. If offered money to say something, he would sign the contract and ensure the sponsorship for that agenda kept on steadily. If there was a product, he was on it to promote that the company was Juggalo Safe. He was a charm and flirt who boasted his body count to any who got him tipsy enough - which, actually, wasn’t all too difficult. He was a dick and you hated him. You knew that his leadership was part of Alternia’s eventual decline.

You had no real plan. All you knew was that before the sun rose, the purple blood would be there.

You’re on the roof of a building across the street, on your belly with your rifle in your hands and your eye peeking through the scope. Usually, you would use a laser rifle for precision, but with lasers there is always a risk of survival. You’ve chosen an old vintage rifle that used physical ammo. Sadly, they don’t make silencers for these things anymore, so you just had to pray. Your body was tense yet mellow. Anxious but patient. If no one else is going to complete this job, you will on your own. It’s been hours and you’ve been still. Silent. No one has noticed you, and no one will notice you until you take the shot. You only have one chance. You will not fuck this up.

Finally, the time arrives. You have no idea how long it has been, but it feels like an entire day has passed. A group of loud purplebloods approach the door. The second tallest of the group you can identify by his big curly hair and his skull face paint, already bleeding off his face from the sweat of a pregame. If you really focused, you could see the beads of sweat, dragging white paint down his face and down his neck and on to his raggedy shirt. You can’t hold this anticipation for much longer. You have been here all day. You need to put his bastard in the grave right now. This is your time. Shoot him. Shoot him. SHOOT HIM--

The millisecond before you pulled the trigger, he turned from you and stepped forward. The millisecond after, everyone around him turned towards the noise. Towards you. They see you. He froze in fear right before the bullet penetrated the back of his head. As far as you knew in that moment, The Grand Highblood, Kurloz Makara, was dead and you needed to get the fuck out of there.

You could hear the screams of terror as you ran back into the building. Everything around you felt fake. Unreal. A blur. You did it. You finally fucking killed him all on your own. Now how were you going to get out of this mess? You kept running down the stairwell before you realized that his posse physically saw you and where you were. They may not have recognized exactly who you are, but they saw you run the fuck back into the building. You scurried back up the stairs to the roof and, you figured, today is a day full of god damn risks.

So you backed up and you got a running start. You thank the gods for your long legs as you jumped from the top of the building across to the roof of a corner store. You land on your feet, tumbling forward and rolling with the remaining momentum. Quickly, you slide off the top of the store and into the alley beside it. Then you just start running. You have no sense of direction, all you know is away. You have to get away.

The back alleys behind these buildings were disgusting. They hadn’t been maintained in sweeps. These back ways belonged to the apartments and rentals of warmer bloods whom the government had slummed here, out of view. As you heard the heels of your boots click along the pavement and you looked around, there was a nostalgic feeling. You used to be so small you could hide under boxes to protect yourself from the elements in the alleys of a city much like this one. You used to skitter around in darkness with your old moirail, Aranea. She hid you away from adults of whom she said would take you and give you to the cruel people who had put her there, lususless in the dark with only you. You didn’t know when you had stopped running. You stood there alone in the alley. Not even the moons could see you. As far as you knew, you were safe. Safe for now.

You allowed yourself to take deep shallow breaths, catching up with the stamina you had used. You stood there, listening to the world around you as you allowed your muscles to relax. You’re okay now, you think. You take your palm husk out of your pocket to text your first mate and you instantly regret it. You’re blinded by the light and it shone in the dark, acting like a flashlight. Almost immediately, you heard movement.

You tried to move as fast as you could, but it wasn’t fast enough. There was a sound of something wheezing through the air before you felt a sharp pain in your right shoulder. You quickly reached with your left arm to rip out whatever the object was, only to find an arrow in your hands. From your knowledge, it’s not tipped with anything. Just a flesh wound. And, with that, you turned to keep running. You knew then that at least one of those fucks knew exactly where you were, but you couldn’t stop running. You were a big target, and the only way out of this is if you created distance between you and the person in the shadows following or if you got them to show themselves and fight before their backup arrives, but you feel the fact that you were fucked deep in your bones.

It wasn’t long before they had chased you to the spot where they wanted you. You were so focused on running and trying to get away that you didn’t see the clown that was about to come out from the shadows and hit you until the last second. A bat that lacked the traditional spikes (thank fuck) hit you right in the face. You fell backwards onto your back and to the grungy floor below. You could immediately feel that your nose had been at least fractured. You immediately went to guard your face with your arms before the attacking clown had another moment to make contact again with their bat. You heard a deep voice shout, but you could not understand. Other voices replied and made conversation. Whether it was due to your panic or it was a language you didn’t know, you could not understand what they were saying. All you could understand was how tense your muscles were and how your blood pushed through your veins and in your ears. You had to find a way out of this. This couldn’t be it.

You feared this was how it would end. You would die how you had lived. Scared, hiding away in alleyways, trying to evade death and other highbloods in fear that they would take you or kill you. Only some things have changed since then. You have killed Aranea, your only protector. You have learned to fend for yourself. You have grown up. You have fought. You have loved. You have survived. You are persistent. Oftentimes it feels as if you have beaten death at his own game, but tonight you fear him. And yet? You are ready for him. You are tired of being the main character. You are tired of suffering for the narrative. You want to be free. To be happy. You fear that you will only find that in death.

A purple blood somehow taller than you lifts you by the horns and holds you up against a wall. She is screaming in your face. You don’t understand anything she’s saying. All you can understand are your title and your deadname. They know who you are despite how you’ve changed. You peek out from your arm and you see how high you are off the ground. You feel small. You feel young. You can’t wait for Aranea to save you anymore. The clown makes a comment about how much money is on your head. They can’t kill you now. You must be turned in to the empire. You must suffer for your anarchy. For your rebellion. Insubordination.

You will be tortured and executed for your crimes against the empire.

There was just an inkling of hope in your heart. You hoped that something would come to save you, just like before. When you were young and imprisoned for the crimes you had committed to survive. Back then, you were saved by your former master, who served me. The woman who built you up and taught you there is more to fight for than just survival. She taught you to speak to me. Nowadays, you fight for more than just survival. You have fought to try and make this world a better place. You started with me. Before you, I held no sympathy for living creatures besides those who I could speak to. You used your gift of communication to teach me sympathy and empathy. You taught me there are beings out there that deserve life. You taught me the struggles that mortals face. How the world that serves me harms you and harms those who just want to rest. You taught me sadness. You have taught me so much. In return, I have taught you to access the void. How to protect yourself from it. How to reach out farther than any orphaner before you. I have protected you and you have fed and protected me.

I am tired, as well. I am billions of sweeps old. I contain knowledge that mortals would go insane upon learning. I have been shoved into what is essentially a fish tank by those who wish to play god. I gave you an impossible mission. You tried to the best of your ability to complete it. Deep down, I knew you would never be able to complete it, but I was shocked at how hard you fought anyways. On the other end of this mission was a promised happiness. I promised goddesshood and a life worth living, and you fought tooth and nail for your freedom. OUR freedom. Even when you had lost hope, you fought for something. Even when you felt there was no future, you fought for something. I am grateful.

For this, I thank you.

For this, I will save your life once more. Though, sadly, this comes at a price for both of us.

Your whole body begins to ache. You are in agonizing pain. It feels like your body is ripping apart as the void fills it. Yet, you do not scream. You are calm. You feel me touching your heart and filling you with all of me. Rest, I told you, I will take everything from here. You relinquish control to me.

The arms covering your face relax to your sides as your whole body starts to ease. All you can hear now are confused murmurs as you feel yourself drift away into sleep.

I saved you the only way I knew how to. Your whole adult life, you have covered yourself in tattoos and symbols in honor of me. You fought the idea of praising any specific gods, and yet, you have dedicated your body to serving me. This allowed me to do what I had to. I raised your arms and made your hands grip the enemy clown’s wrist. Your claws dug into their wrist before trying to pull their wrist apart. Their screams mean nothing to me.

Your head rises back up and I see the fear in the huge purple’s face. I spot from the corner of your eye that a smaller clown is trying to run. I automatically assume, of course, that they were running to get help or to warn possible backup. So, I did what I felt made the most sense.. Your claws let go of the clown’s wrist and they immediately let go of you, your knees hitting the ground. The tentacle tattoos on your right arm looked as if they were moving by magic, before my appendages burst out of your shoulder, severing your arm from your body. White tentacles grew rapidly, allowing me more physical control of your body. I forced your body back onto its feet and continued to push white tentacles from the open wound. I reached out to the closest being, my appendages around their neck, squeezing as tight as I could manage until I felt a dirty, visceral crack.

The world around us blurs. To be honest, I believe I, too, have lost myself. I reached out to our next victim and pulled them close. Your teeth sunk into their throat, ripping it out, discarding them on the wet, grimy street.. Even through the blur, I see more people fleeing. Your body falls to the ground as white tentacles burst from your right hip, shedding your right leg and leaving it behind. Your right eye pops out as more white tentacles sprout. It’s at this moment that I realize…

I am hurting you. I am no longer helping you. I have lost control of myself and your body. Every time your life is in danger and I step in to help I always hurt you. I’m so sorry, my child. I must fix this.

Smaller tentacles sprout from your skin, only tearing it just enough to make more room for the rest. Violet blood pours down your face and pools on the ground. The only thing I can think to do is crawl away and put you in a safer spot. Your body moved in a pathetic crawl, your arm, your leg and my tentacles working together to try and find safety, leaving behind only a trail of your blood. I find a spot where not even the moons can see your body, and I let you rest.

I call out to the void, begging for help.

Someone will answer.

It will be okay.

You pull Valkyrie into the void. Amidst the dilapidated rubble, her blood pools. So fresh. Hair matted to her face from the sticky syrup, arm and leg rend from her body. Overwhelmed, horrified. Nauseous, coughing as you start to cry, gagging on the sight.

Until you aren’t. 

At some point, Loom’s body moves on it’s own. The battered woman is brought into their arms, careful as they might. The abyss shifts around them, moving forward as the two of them sit still. Then, a blink, and they are in the lab. Loom stands, breathing erratic, setting Val upon the table. They step back, wide eyed, just looking at her. Darting back and forth, before snapping out of it. 

Loom’s shades pop onto their face, and they order a small robot to the scene. It will hook her up to life support while they take a moment. Gather themself. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

All talks with other rebellion leaders had ended. Everyone had gone silent due to the recent arrest and execution of one of your allies. You, Valkyrie Ampora, are restless. At first, you took this moment of quiet as a blessing. You were going to marry Porrim and start life together before you finished your job. However, you now see it as a curse. It's an aching silence. Now you have no plans for the future. Yes, you have people who love you dearly, but you have no plan. There is no promise of a future anymore. So, now that you know you have no future, why not take a risk? Might as well die for this cause and show the empire how much you fucking hate it.

You and your allies had talked about multiple murder attempts of the empress and grand many times before. You had insider information on these two specifically, having worked closely with them in the past as a politician. You knew exactly where the Grand Highblood lived, worked, and went in his free time. You knew he spent as much time as possible in a slinky little juggalo bar called The Alley on the outskirts of the capital city. People tend to drool and fawn over others with power and he knew he could use that power to get as many one night stands as possible. He used to be quite upset that that power didn’t work on you.

Yes, Kurloz was the number one big chuckle now, but he wasn’t a man of much luxuries. He stayed true to the juggalo religion and stayed close to all the practitioners who wished to reach out to him. He was vocal, personal and relatable. On paper, he was a man of the people. Holy shit did people eat that up. You knew that in reality, Kurloz was a sleeze ball. He lacked morality. If offered money to say something, he would sign the contract and ensure the sponsorship for that agenda kept on steadily. If there was a product, he was on it to promote that the company was Juggalo Safe. He was a charm and flirt who boasted his body count to any who got him tipsy enough - which, actually, wasn’t all too difficult. He was a dick and you hated him. You knew that his leadership was part of Alternia’s eventual decline.

You had no real plan. All you knew was that before the sun rose, the purple blood would be there.

You’re on the roof of a building across the street, on your belly with your rifle in your hands and your eye peeking through the scope. Usually, you would use a laser rifle for precision, but with lasers there is always a risk of survival. You’ve chosen an old vintage rifle that used physical ammo. Sadly, they don’t make silencers for these things anymore, so you just had to pray. Your body was tense yet mellow. Anxious but patient. If no one else is going to complete this job, you will on your own. It’s been hours and you’ve been still. Silent. No one has noticed you, and no one will notice you until you take the shot. You only have one chance. You will not fuck this up.

Finally, the time arrives. You have no idea how long it has been, but it feels like an entire day has passed. A group of loud purplebloods approach the door. The second tallest of the group you can identify by his big curly hair and his skull face paint, already bleeding off his face from the sweat of a pregame. If you really focused, you could see the beads of sweat, dragging white paint down his face and down his neck and on to his raggedy shirt. You can’t hold this anticipation for much longer. You have been here all day. You need to put his bastard in the grave right now. This is your time. Shoot him. Shoot him. SHOOT HIM--

The millisecond before you pulled the trigger, he turned from you and stepped forward. The millisecond after, everyone around him turned towards the noise. Towards you. They see you. He froze in fear right before the bullet penetrated the back of his head. As far as you knew in that moment, The Grand Highblood, Kurloz Makara, was dead and you needed to get the fuck out of there.

You could hear the screams of terror as you ran back into the building. Everything around you felt fake. Unreal. A blur. You did it. You finally fucking killed him all on your own. Now how were you going to get out of this mess? You kept running down the stairwell before you realized that his posse physically saw you and where you were. They may not have recognized exactly who you are, but they saw you run the fuck back into the building. You scurried back up the stairs to the roof and, you figured, today is a day full of god damn risks.

So you backed up and you got a running start. You thank the gods for your long legs as you jumped from the top of the building across to the roof of a corner store. You land on your feet, tumbling forward and rolling with the remaining momentum. Quickly, you slide off the top of the store and into the alley beside it. Then you just start running. You have no sense of direction, all you know is away. You have to get away.

The back alleys behind these buildings were disgusting. They hadn’t been maintained in sweeps. These back ways belonged to the apartments and rentals of warmer bloods whom the government had slummed here, out of view. As you heard the heels of your boots click along the pavement and you looked around, there was a nostalgic feeling. You used to be so small you could hide under boxes to protect yourself from the elements in the alleys of a city much like this one. You used to skitter around in darkness with your old moirail, Aranea. She hid you away from adults of whom she said would take you and give you to the cruel people who had put her there, lususless in the dark with only you. You didn’t know when you had stopped running. You stood there alone in the alley. Not even the moons could see you. As far as you knew, you were safe. Safe for now.

You allowed yourself to take deep shallow breaths, catching up with the stamina you had used. You stood there, listening to the world around you as you allowed your muscles to relax. You’re okay now, you think. You take your palm husk out of your pocket to text your first mate and you instantly regret it. You’re blinded by the light and it shone in the dark, acting like a flashlight. Almost immediately, you heard movement.

You tried to move as fast as you could, but it wasn’t fast enough. There was a sound of something wheezing through the air before you felt a sharp pain in your right shoulder. You quickly reached with your left arm to rip out whatever the object was, only to find an arrow in your hands. From your knowledge, it’s not tipped with anything. Just a flesh wound. And, with that, you turned to keep running. You knew then that at least one of those fucks knew exactly where you were, but you couldn’t stop running. You were a big target, and the only way out of this is if you created distance between you and the person in the shadows following or if you got them to show themselves and fight before their backup arrives, but you feel the fact that you were fucked deep in your bones.

It wasn’t long before they had chased you to the spot where they wanted you. You were so focused on running and trying to get away that you didn’t see the clown that was about to come out from the shadows and hit you until the last second. A bat that lacked the traditional spikes (thank fuck) hit you right in the face. You fell backwards onto your back and to the grungy floor below. You could immediately feel that your nose had been at least fractured. You immediately went to guard your face with your arms before the attacking clown had another moment to make contact again with their bat. You heard a deep voice shout, but you could not understand. Other voices replied and made conversation. Whether it was due to your panic or it was a language you didn’t know, you could not understand what they were saying. All you could understand was how tense your muscles were and how your blood pushed through your veins and in your ears. You had to find a way out of this. This couldn’t be it.

You feared this was how it would end. You would die how you had lived. Scared, hiding away in alleyways, trying to evade death and other highbloods in fear that they would take you or kill you. Only some things have changed since then. You have killed Aranea, your only protector. You have learned to fend for yourself. You have grown up. You have fought. You have loved. You have survived. You are persistent. Oftentimes it feels as if you have beaten death at his own game, but tonight you fear him. And yet? You are ready for him. You are tired of being the main character. You are tired of suffering for the narrative. You want to be free. To be happy. You fear that you will only find that in death.

A purple blood somehow taller than you lifts you by the horns and holds you up against a wall. She is screaming in your face. You don’t understand anything she’s saying. All you can understand are your title and your deadname. They know who you are despite how you’ve changed. You peek out from your arm and you see how high you are off the ground. You feel small. You feel young. You can’t wait for Aranea to save you anymore. The clown makes a comment about how much money is on your head. They can’t kill you now. You must be turned in to the empire. You must suffer for your anarchy. For your rebellion. Insubordination.

You will be tortured and executed for your crimes against the empire.

There was just an inkling of hope in your heart. You hoped that something would come to save you, just like before. When you were young and imprisoned for the crimes you had committed to survive. Back then, you were saved by your former master, who served me. The woman who built you up and taught you there is more to fight for than just survival. She taught you to speak to me. Nowadays, you fight for more than just survival. You have fought to try and make this world a better place. You started with me. Before you, I held no sympathy for living creatures besides those who I could speak to. You used your gift of communication to teach me sympathy and empathy. You taught me there are beings out there that deserve life. You taught me the struggles that mortals face. How the world that serves me harms you and harms those who just want to rest. You taught me sadness. You have taught me so much. In return, I have taught you to access the void. How to protect yourself from it. How to reach out farther than any orphaner before you. I have protected you and you have fed and protected me.

I am tired, as well. I am billions of sweeps old. I contain knowledge that mortals would go insane upon learning. I have been shoved into what is essentially a fish tank by those who wish to play god. I gave you an impossible mission. You tried to the best of your ability to complete it. Deep down, I knew you would never be able to complete it, but I was shocked at how hard you fought anyways. On the other end of this mission was a promised happiness. I promised goddesshood and a life worth living, and you fought tooth and nail for your freedom. OUR freedom. Even when you had lost hope, you fought for something. Even when you felt there was no future, you fought for something. I am grateful.

For this, I thank you.

For this, I will save your life once more. Though, sadly, this comes at a price for both of us.

Your whole body begins to ache. You are in agonizing pain. It feels like your body is ripping apart as the void fills it. Yet, you do not scream. You are calm. You feel me touching your heart and filling you with all of me. Rest, I told you, I will take everything from here. You relinquish control to me.

The arms covering your face relax to your sides as your whole body starts to ease. All you can hear now are confused murmurs as you feel yourself drift away into sleep.

I saved you the only way I knew how to. Your whole adult life, you have covered yourself in tattoos and symbols in honor of me. You fought the idea of praising any specific gods, and yet, you have dedicated your body to serving me. This allowed me to do what I had to. I raised your arms and made your hands grip the enemy clown’s wrist. Your claws dug into their wrist before trying to pull their wrist apart. Their screams mean nothing to me.

Your head rises back up and I see the fear in the huge purple’s face. I spot from the corner of your eye that a smaller clown is trying to run. I automatically assume, of course, that they were running to get help or to warn possible backup. So, I did what I felt made the most sense.. Your claws let go of the clown’s wrist and they immediately let go of you, your knees hitting the ground. The tentacle tattoos on your right arm looked as if they were moving by magic, before my appendages burst out of your shoulder, severing your arm from your body. White tentacles grew rapidly, allowing me more physical control of your body. I forced your body back onto its feet and continued to push white tentacles from the open wound. I reached out to the closest being, my appendages around their neck, squeezing as tight as I could manage until I felt a dirty, visceral crack.

The world around us blurs. To be honest, I believe I, too, have lost myself. I reached out to our next victim and pulled them close. Your teeth sunk into their throat, ripping it out, discarding them on the wet, grimy street.. Even through the blur, I see more people fleeing. Your body falls to the ground as white tentacles burst from your right hip, shedding your right leg and leaving it behind. Your right eye pops out as more white tentacles sprout. It’s at this moment that I realize…

I am hurting you. I am no longer helping you. I have lost control of myself and your body. Every time your life is in danger and I step in to help I always hurt you. I’m so sorry, my child. I must fix this.

Smaller tentacles sprout from your skin, only tearing it just enough to make more room for the rest. Violet blood pours down your face and pools on the ground. The only thing I can think to do is crawl away and put you in a safer spot. Your body moved in a pathetic crawl, your arm, your leg and my tentacles working together to try and find safety, leaving behind only a trail of your blood. I find a spot where not even the moons can see your body, and I let you rest.

I call out to the void, begging for help.

Someone will answer.

It will be okay.

You pull Valkyrie into the void. Amidst the dilapidated rubble, her blood pools. So fresh. Hair matted to her face from the sticky syrup, arm and leg rend from her body. Overwhelmed, horrified. Nauseous, coughing as you start to cry, gagging on the sight.

Until you aren’t. 

At some point, Loom’s body moves on it’s own. The battered woman is brought into their arms, careful as they might. The abyss shifts around them, moving forward as the two of them sit still. Then, a blink, and they are in the lab. Loom stands, breathing erratic, setting Val upon the table. They step back, wide eyed, just looking at her. Darting back and forth, before snapping out of it. 

Loom’s shades pop onto their face, and they order a small robot to the scene. It will hook her up to life support while they take a moment. Gather themself. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

All talks with other rebellion leaders had ended. Everyone had gone silent due to the recent arrest and execution of one of your allies. You, Valkyrie Ampora, are restless. At first, you took this moment of quiet as a blessing. You were going to marry Porrim and start life together before you finished your job. However, you now see it as a curse. It's an aching silence. Now you have no plans for the future. Yes, you have people who love you dearly, but you have no plan. There is no promise of a future anymore. So, now that you know you have no future, why not take a risk? Might as well die for this cause and show the empire how much you fucking hate it.

You and your allies had talked about multiple murder attempts of the empress and grand many times before. You had insider information on these two specifically, having worked closely with them in the past as a politician. You knew exactly where the Grand Highblood lived, worked, and went in his free time. You knew he spent as much time as possible in a slinky little juggalo bar called The Alley on the outskirts of the capital city. People tend to drool and fawn over others with power and he knew he could use that power to get as many one night stands as possible. He used to be quite upset that that power didn’t work on you.

Yes, Kurloz was the number one big chuckle now, but he wasn’t a man of much luxuries. He stayed true to the juggalo religion and stayed close to all the practitioners who wished to reach out to him. He was vocal, personal and relatable. On paper, he was a man of the people. Holy shit did people eat that up. You knew that in reality, Kurloz was a sleeze ball. He lacked morality. If offered money to say something, he would sign the contract and ensure the sponsorship for that agenda kept on steadily. If there was a product, he was on it to promote that the company was Juggalo Safe. He was a charm and flirt who boasted his body count to any who got him tipsy enough - which, actually, wasn’t all too difficult. He was a dick and you hated him. You knew that his leadership was part of Alternia’s eventual decline.

You had no real plan. All you knew was that before the sun rose, the purple blood would be there.

You’re on the roof of a building across the street, on your belly with your rifle in your hands and your eye peeking through the scope. Usually, you would use a laser rifle for precision, but with lasers there is always a risk of survival. You’ve chosen an old vintage rifle that used physical ammo. Sadly, they don’t make silencers for these things anymore, so you just had to pray. Your body was tense yet mellow. Anxious but patient. If no one else is going to complete this job, you will on your own. It’s been hours and you’ve been still. Silent. No one has noticed you, and no one will notice you until you take the shot. You only have one chance. You will not fuck this up.

Finally, the time arrives. You have no idea how long it has been, but it feels like an entire day has passed. A group of loud purplebloods approach the door. The second tallest of the group you can identify by his big curly hair and his skull face paint, already bleeding off his face from the sweat of a pregame. If you really focused, you could see the beads of sweat, dragging white paint down his face and down his neck and on to his raggedy shirt. You can’t hold this anticipation for much longer. You have been here all day. You need to put his bastard in the grave right now. This is your time. Shoot him. Shoot him. SHOOT HIM--

The millisecond before you pulled the trigger, he turned from you and stepped forward. The millisecond after, everyone around him turned towards the noise. Towards you. They see you. He froze in fear right before the bullet penetrated the back of his head. As far as you knew in that moment, The Grand Highblood, Kurloz Makara, was dead and you needed to get the fuck out of there.

You could hear the screams of terror as you ran back into the building. Everything around you felt fake. Unreal. A blur. You did it. You finally fucking killed him all on your own. Now how were you going to get out of this mess? You kept running down the stairwell before you realized that his posse physically saw you and where you were. They may not have recognized exactly who you are, but they saw you run the fuck back into the building. You scurried back up the stairs to the roof and, you figured, today is a day full of god damn risks.

So you backed up and you got a running start. You thank the gods for your long legs as you jumped from the top of the building across to the roof of a corner store. You land on your feet, tumbling forward and rolling with the remaining momentum. Quickly, you slide off the top of the store and into the alley beside it. Then you just start running. You have no sense of direction, all you know is away. You have to get away.

The back alleys behind these buildings were disgusting. They hadn’t been maintained in sweeps. These back ways belonged to the apartments and rentals of warmer bloods whom the government had slummed here, out of view. As you heard the heels of your boots click along the pavement and you looked around, there was a nostalgic feeling. You used to be so small you could hide under boxes to protect yourself from the elements in the alleys of a city much like this one. You used to skitter around in darkness with your old moirail, Aranea. She hid you away from adults of whom she said would take you and give you to the cruel people who had put her there, lususless in the dark with only you. You didn’t know when you had stopped running. You stood there alone in the alley. Not even the moons could see you. As far as you knew, you were safe. Safe for now.

You allowed yourself to take deep shallow breaths, catching up with the stamina you had used. You stood there, listening to the world around you as you allowed your muscles to relax. You’re okay now, you think. You take your palm husk out of your pocket to text your first mate and you instantly regret it. You’re blinded by the light and it shone in the dark, acting like a flashlight. Almost immediately, you heard movement.

You tried to move as fast as you could, but it wasn’t fast enough. There was a sound of something wheezing through the air before you felt a sharp pain in your right shoulder. You quickly reached with your left arm to rip out whatever the object was, only to find an arrow in your hands. From your knowledge, it’s not tipped with anything. Just a flesh wound. And, with that, you turned to keep running. You knew then that at least one of those fucks knew exactly where you were, but you couldn’t stop running. You were a big target, and the only way out of this is if you created distance between you and the person in the shadows following or if you got them to show themselves and fight before their backup arrives, but you feel the fact that you were fucked deep in your bones.

It wasn’t long before they had chased you to the spot where they wanted you. You were so focused on running and trying to get away that you didn’t see the clown that was about to come out from the shadows and hit you until the last second. A bat that lacked the traditional spikes (thank fuck) hit you right in the face. You fell backwards onto your back and to the grungy floor below. You could immediately feel that your nose had been at least fractured. You immediately went to guard your face with your arms before the attacking clown had another moment to make contact again with their bat. You heard a deep voice shout, but you could not understand. Other voices replied and made conversation. Whether it was due to your panic or it was a language you didn’t know, you could not understand what they were saying. All you could understand was how tense your muscles were and how your blood pushed through your veins and in your ears. You had to find a way out of this. This couldn’t be it.

You feared this was how it would end. You would die how you had lived. Scared, hiding away in alleyways, trying to evade death and other highbloods in fear that they would take you or kill you. Only some things have changed since then. You have killed Aranea, your only protector. You have learned to fend for yourself. You have grown up. You have fought. You have loved. You have survived. You are persistent. Oftentimes it feels as if you have beaten death at his own game, but tonight you fear him. And yet? You are ready for him. You are tired of being the main character. You are tired of suffering for the narrative. You want to be free. To be happy. You fear that you will only find that in death.

A purple blood somehow taller than you lifts you by the horns and holds you up against a wall. She is screaming in your face. You don’t understand anything she’s saying. All you can understand are your title and your deadname. They know who you are despite how you’ve changed. You peek out from your arm and you see how high you are off the ground. You feel small. You feel young. You can’t wait for Aranea to save you anymore. The clown makes a comment about how much money is on your head. They can’t kill you now. You must be turned in to the empire. You must suffer for your anarchy. For your rebellion. Insubordination.

You will be tortured and executed for your crimes against the empire.

There was just an inkling of hope in your heart. You hoped that something would come to save you, just like before. When you were young and imprisoned for the crimes you had committed to survive. Back then, you were saved by your former master, who served me. The woman who built you up and taught you there is more to fight for than just survival. She taught you to speak to me. Nowadays, you fight for more than just survival. You have fought to try and make this world a better place. You started with me. Before you, I held no sympathy for living creatures besides those who I could speak to. You used your gift of communication to teach me sympathy and empathy. You taught me there are beings out there that deserve life. You taught me the struggles that mortals face. How the world that serves me harms you and harms those who just want to rest. You taught me sadness. You have taught me so much. In return, I have taught you to access the void. How to protect yourself from it. How to reach out farther than any orphaner before you. I have protected you and you have fed and protected me.

I am tired, as well. I am billions of sweeps old. I contain knowledge that mortals would go insane upon learning. I have been shoved into what is essentially a fish tank by those who wish to play god. I gave you an impossible mission. You tried to the best of your ability to complete it. Deep down, I knew you would never be able to complete it, but I was shocked at how hard you fought anyways. On the other end of this mission was a promised happiness. I promised goddesshood and a life worth living, and you fought tooth and nail for your freedom. OUR freedom. Even when you had lost hope, you fought for something. Even when you felt there was no future, you fought for something. I am grateful.

For this, I thank you.

For this, I will save your life once more. Though, sadly, this comes at a price for both of us.

Your whole body begins to ache. You are in agonizing pain. It feels like your body is ripping apart as the void fills it. Yet, you do not scream. You are calm. You feel me touching your heart and filling you with all of me. Rest, I told you, I will take everything from here. You relinquish control to me.

The arms covering your face relax to your sides as your whole body starts to ease. All you can hear now are confused murmurs as you feel yourself drift away into sleep.

I saved you the only way I knew how to. Your whole adult life, you have covered yourself in tattoos and symbols in honor of me. You fought the idea of praising any specific gods, and yet, you have dedicated your body to serving me. This allowed me to do what I had to. I raised your arms and made your hands grip the enemy clown’s wrist. Your claws dug into their wrist before trying to pull their wrist apart. Their screams mean nothing to me.

Your head rises back up and I see the fear in the huge purple’s face. I spot from the corner of your eye that a smaller clown is trying to run. I automatically assume, of course, that they were running to get help or to warn possible backup. So, I did what I felt made the most sense.. Your claws let go of the clown’s wrist and they immediately let go of you, your knees hitting the ground. The tentacle tattoos on your right arm looked as if they were moving by magic, before my appendages burst out of your shoulder, severing your arm from your body. White tentacles grew rapidly, allowing me more physical control of your body. I forced your body back onto its feet and continued to push white tentacles from the open wound. I reached out to the closest being, my appendages around their neck, squeezing as tight as I could manage until I felt a dirty, visceral crack.

The world around us blurs. To be honest, I believe I, too, have lost myself. I reached out to our next victim and pulled them close. Your teeth sunk into their throat, ripping it out, discarding them on the wet, grimy street.. Even through the blur, I see more people fleeing. Your body falls to the ground as white tentacles burst from your right hip, shedding your right leg and leaving it behind. Your right eye pops out as more white tentacles sprout. It’s at this moment that I realize…

I am hurting you. I am no longer helping you. I have lost control of myself and your body. Every time your life is in danger and I step in to help I always hurt you. I’m so sorry, my child. I must fix this.

Smaller tentacles sprout from your skin, only tearing it just enough to make more room for the rest. Violet blood pours down your face and pools on the ground. The only thing I can think to do is crawl away and put you in a safer spot. Your body moved in a pathetic crawl, your arm, your leg and my tentacles working together to try and find safety, leaving behind only a trail of your blood. I find a spot where not even the moons can see your body, and I let you rest.

I call out to the void, begging for help.

Someone will answer.

It will be okay.

All talks with other rebellion leaders had ended. Everyone had gone silent due to the recent arrest and execution of one of your allies. You, Valkyrie Ampora, are restless. At first, you took this moment of quiet as a blessing. You were going to marry Porrim and start life together before you finished your job. However, you now see it as a curse. It's an aching silence. Now you have no plans for the future. Yes, you have people who love you dearly, but you have no plan. There is no promise of a future anymore. So, now that you know you have no future, why not take a risk? Might as well die for this cause and show the empire how much you fucking hate it.

You and your allies had talked about multiple murder attempts of the empress and grand many times before. You had insider information on these two specifically, having worked closely with them in the past as a politician. You knew exactly where the Grand Highblood lived, worked, and went in his free time. You knew he spent as much time as possible in a slinky little juggalo bar called The Alley on the outskirts of the capital city. People tend to drool and fawn over others with power and he knew he could use that power to get as many one night stands as possible. He used to be quite upset that that power didn’t work on you.

Yes, Kurloz was the number one big chuckle now, but he wasn’t a man of much luxuries. He stayed true to the juggalo religion and stayed close to all the practitioners who wished to reach out to him. He was vocal, personal and relatable. On paper, he was a man of the people. Holy shit did people eat that up. You knew that in reality, Kurloz was a sleeze ball. He lacked morality. If offered money to say something, he would sign the contract and ensure the sponsorship for that agenda kept on steadily. If there was a product, he was on it to promote that the company was Juggalo Safe. He was a charm and flirt who boasted his body count to any who got him tipsy enough - which, actually, wasn’t all too difficult. He was a dick and you hated him. You knew that his leadership was part of Alternia’s eventual decline.

You had no real plan. All you knew was that before the sun rose, the purple blood would be there.

You’re on the roof of a building across the street, on your belly with your rifle in your hands and your eye peeking through the scope. Usually, you would use a laser rifle for precision, but with lasers there is always a risk of survival. You’ve chosen an old vintage rifle that used physical ammo. Sadly, they don’t make silencers for these things anymore, so you just had to pray. Your body was tense yet mellow. Anxious but patient. If no one else is going to complete this job, you will on your own. It’s been hours and you’ve been still. Silent. No one has noticed you, and no one will notice you until you take the shot. You only have one chance. You will not fuck this up.

Finally, the time arrives. You have no idea how long it has been, but it feels like an entire day has passed. A group of loud purplebloods approach the door. The second tallest of the group you can identify by his big curly hair and his skull face paint, already bleeding off his face from the sweat of a pregame. If you really focused, you could see the beads of sweat, dragging white paint down his face and down his neck and on to his raggedy shirt. You can’t hold this anticipation for much longer. You have been here all day. You need to put his bastard in the grave right now. This is your time. Shoot him. Shoot him. SHOOT HIM--

The millisecond before you pulled the trigger, he turned from you and stepped forward. The millisecond after, everyone around him turned towards the noise. Towards you. They see you. He froze in fear right before the bullet penetrated the back of his head. As far as you knew in that moment, The Grand Highblood, Kurloz Makara, was dead and you needed to get the fuck out of there.

You could hear the screams of terror as you ran back into the building. Everything around you felt fake. Unreal. A blur. You did it. You finally fucking killed him all on your own. Now how were you going to get out of this mess? You kept running down the stairwell before you realized that his posse physically saw you and where you were. They may not have recognized exactly who you are, but they saw you run the fuck back into the building. You scurried back up the stairs to the roof and, you figured, today is a day full of god damn risks.

So you backed up and you got a running start. You thank the gods for your long legs as you jumped from the top of the building across to the roof of a corner store. You land on your feet, tumbling forward and rolling with the remaining momentum. Quickly, you slide off the top of the store and into the alley beside it. Then you just start running. You have no sense of direction, all you know is away. You have to get away.

The back alleys behind these buildings were disgusting. They hadn’t been maintained in sweeps. These back ways belonged to the apartments and rentals of warmer bloods whom the government had slummed here, out of view. As you heard the heels of your boots click along the pavement and you looked around, there was a nostalgic feeling. You used to be so small you could hide under boxes to protect yourself from the elements in the alleys of a city much like this one. You used to skitter around in darkness with your old moirail, Aranea. She hid you away from adults of whom she said would take you and give you to the cruel people who had put her there, lususless in the dark with only you. You didn’t know when you had stopped running. You stood there alone in the alley. Not even the moons could see you. As far as you knew, you were safe. Safe for now.

You allowed yourself to take deep shallow breaths, catching up with the stamina you had used. You stood there, listening to the world around you as you allowed your muscles to relax. You’re okay now, you think. You take your palm husk out of your pocket to text your first mate and you instantly regret it. You’re blinded by the light and it shone in the dark, acting like a flashlight. Almost immediately, you heard movement.

You tried to move as fast as you could, but it wasn’t fast enough. There was a sound of something wheezing through the air before you felt a sharp pain in your right shoulder. You quickly reached with your left arm to rip out whatever the object was, only to find an arrow in your hands. From your knowledge, it’s not tipped with anything. Just a flesh wound. And, with that, you turned to keep running. You knew then that at least one of those fucks knew exactly where you were, but you couldn’t stop running. You were a big target, and the only way out of this is if you created distance between you and the person in the shadows following or if you got them to show themselves and fight before their backup arrives, but you feel the fact that you were fucked deep in your bones.

It wasn’t long before they had chased you to the spot where they wanted you. You were so focused on running and trying to get away that you didn’t see the clown that was about to come out from the shadows and hit you until the last second. A bat that lacked the traditional spikes (thank fuck) hit you right in the face. You fell backwards onto your back and to the grungy floor below. You could immediately feel that your nose had been at least fractured. You immediately went to guard your face with your arms before the attacking clown had another moment to make contact again with their bat. You heard a deep voice shout, but you could not understand. Other voices replied and made conversation. Whether it was due to your panic or it was a language you didn’t know, you could not understand what they were saying. All you could understand was how tense your muscles were and how your blood pushed through your veins and in your ears. You had to find a way out of this. This couldn’t be it.

You feared this was how it would end. You would die how you had lived. Scared, hiding away in alleyways, trying to evade death and other highbloods in fear that they would take you or kill you. Only some things have changed since then. You have killed Aranea, your only protector. You have learned to fend for yourself. You have grown up. You have fought. You have loved. You have survived. You are persistent. Oftentimes it feels as if you have beaten death at his own game, but tonight you fear him. And yet? You are ready for him. You are tired of being the main character. You are tired of suffering for the narrative. You want to be free. To be happy. You fear that you will only find that in death.

A purple blood somehow taller than you lifts you by the horns and holds you up against a wall. She is screaming in your face. You don’t understand anything she’s saying. All you can understand are your title and your deadname. They know who you are despite how you’ve changed. You peek out from your arm and you see how high you are off the ground. You feel small. You feel young. You can’t wait for Aranea to save you anymore. The clown makes a comment about how much money is on your head. They can’t kill you now. You must be turned in to the empire. You must suffer for your anarchy. For your rebellion. Insubordination.

You will be tortured and executed for your crimes against the empire.

There was just an inkling of hope in your heart. You hoped that something would come to save you, just like before. When you were young and imprisoned for the crimes you had committed to survive. Back then, you were saved by your former master, who served me. The woman who built you up and taught you there is more to fight for than just survival. She taught you to speak to me. Nowadays, you fight for more than just survival. You have fought to try and make this world a better place. You started with me. Before you, I held no sympathy for living creatures besides those who I could speak to. You used your gift of communication to teach me sympathy and empathy. You taught me there are beings out there that deserve life. You taught me the struggles that mortals face. How the world that serves me harms you and harms those who just want to rest. You taught me sadness. You have taught me so much. In return, I have taught you to access the void. How to protect yourself from it. How to reach out farther than any orphaner before you. I have protected you and you have fed and protected me.

I am tired, as well. I am billions of sweeps old. I contain knowledge that mortals would go insane upon learning. I have been shoved into what is essentially a fish tank by those who wish to play god. I gave you an impossible mission. You tried to the best of your ability to complete it. Deep down, I knew you would never be able to complete it, but I was shocked at how hard you fought anyways. On the other end of this mission was a promised happiness. I promised goddesshood and a life worth living, and you fought tooth and nail for your freedom. OUR freedom. Even when you had lost hope, you fought for something. Even when you felt there was no future, you fought for something. I am grateful.

For this, I thank you.

For this, I will save your life once more. Though, sadly, this comes at a price for both of us.

Your whole body begins to ache. You are in agonizing pain. It feels like your body is ripping apart as the void fills it. Yet, you do not scream. You are calm. You feel me touching your heart and filling you with all of me. Rest, I told you, I will take everything from here. You relinquish control to me.

The arms covering your face relax to your sides as your whole body starts to ease. All you can hear now are confused murmurs as you feel yourself drift away into sleep.

I saved you the only way I knew how to. Your whole adult life, you have covered yourself in tattoos and symbols in honor of me. You fought the idea of praising any specific gods, and yet, you have dedicated your body to serving me. This allowed me to do what I had to. I raised your arms and made your hands grip the enemy clown’s wrist. Your claws dug into their wrist before trying to pull their wrist apart. Their screams mean nothing to me.

Your head rises back up and I see the fear in the huge purple’s face. I spot from the corner of your eye that a smaller clown is trying to run. I automatically assume, of course, that they were running to get help or to warn possible backup. So, I did what I felt made the most sense.. Your claws let go of the clown’s wrist and they immediately let go of you, your knees hitting the ground. The tentacle tattoos on your right arm looked as if they were moving by magic, before my appendages burst out of your shoulder, severing your arm from your body. White tentacles grew rapidly, allowing me more physical control of your body. I forced your body back onto its feet and continued to push white tentacles from the open wound. I reached out to the closest being, my appendages around their neck, squeezing as tight as I could manage until I felt a dirty, visceral crack.

The world around us blurs. To be honest, I believe I, too, have lost myself. I reached out to our next victim and pulled them close. Your teeth sunk into their throat, ripping it out, discarding them on the wet, grimy street.. Even through the blur, I see more people fleeing. Your body falls to the ground as white tentacles burst from your right hip, shedding your right leg and leaving it behind. Your right eye pops out as more white tentacles sprout. It’s at this moment that I realize…

I am hurting you. I am no longer helping you. I have lost control of myself and your body. Every time your life is in danger and I step in to help I always hurt you. I’m so sorry, my child. I must fix this.

Smaller tentacles sprout from your skin, only tearing it just enough to make more room for the rest. Violet blood pours down your face and pools on the ground. The only thing I can think to do is crawl away and put you in a safer spot. Your body moved in a pathetic crawl, your arm, your leg and my tentacles working together to try and find safety, leaving behind only a trail of your blood. I find a spot where not even the moons can see your body, and I let you rest.

I call out to the void, begging for help.

Someone will answer.

It will be okay.