Everything hurts.
Pac groans in pain as he is downed again. How many times has he been killed now, eight times? Ten? Twelve? He’s not sure– and frankly, he doesn’t care anymore. He just wants those fucking eye worker things to be gone.
Someone is picking him up– Pac’s not sure who it is. Everything is so blurry, so hazy. He remembers thanking them as he stands on his legs, hissing when the bruises on the stump of his prosthetic leg ache. He hears more screaming, more fighting, he thinks he heard the sound of someone dying, but he’s not sure of who.
Everything is too much.
“WHAT?!”
Pac turns around, stumbling when he hears Bagi’s broken voice. What happened? His head is spinning, and everything seems to come in and out of focus.
“Who did that?!” She screams, a rage in her voice Pac has never heard come from her. “WHO DID THAT?!”
He’s confused– what happened? He grabs his comm with shaking hands, thinking something was said in chat.
Empanada is bleeding.
Empanada was slain.
What.
He freezes. His heart stops, mind going quiet as gunshots and yells overlap. But– But Empanada was right here. She was behind him, running away with her frying pan in her hands when Pac was downed. How could she be dead? Not again, not again, not again.
“No, no, no...” He mumbles, watching as Bagi and Fit push the worker with their scythes and corners it. The male stumbles towards the worker, hands clenched into fists. He has nothing– those fuckers destroyed his home, destroyed his armour and weapons, took away one of Em’s lives...
He punches, because that’s all he can do.
He punches with as much strength he can muster (which isn’t a lot), mindful to not get between it and Bagi. He keeps punching, again and again and again because how dare they?! How DARE they hurt his family.
Then Bagi yells.
“YOU KILLED EMPANADA, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” She screams, stabbing the worker with her scythe and downing it. “YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”
Pac stumbles back, freezing.
He’s heard that tone before, accompanied by wide, crazy blue eyes and blodied, sharp fangs.
He tries to breathe, but his body feels out of his control. He gets goosebumps as Bagi screams and yells with grief and anger in her voice as she stabs the worker over, and over, and over, and over. Fit stands back, hand going white by the grip he has on his scythe and a mix of anger and guilt on his face.
At some point, the body of the Eye Worker stumbles towards his frozen body. Bagi, in her fit of rage, doesn't see him and continues stabbing the Worker. Pac feels a flash of pain in his abdomen, and he collapses, downed once again but this time by Bagi. He doesn’t dare to move or to speak– he needs to be as quiet and still as he can if he wants to live, to survive.
He starts to get picked up by someone, but all Pac can manage to say is that they can leave him, he’s fine. He gets picked up, of course, but all he can do is stand there, paralized, as Bagi continues her rampage on the eye worker.
Everything hurts, and all he can do is watch.
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Adventure Time stakes changed me forever because now I will forever see asking a loved one to help you die as the ultimate sign of trust and agreeing to help a loved one die as the ultimate act of love and devotion. PB turned to Marceline and tenderly said “Your natural lifespan is going to be richer and fuller than you can imagine, and someday, when you die, I’ll be the one who puts you in the ground”. Like Marceline has left her life in Bubblegum’s hands and PB has promised to treat it gently. Oughhh
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The insurgents, we will remark, were full of hope. The manner in which they had repulsed the attack of the preceding night had caused them to almost disdain in advance the attack at dawn. They waited for it with a smile. They had no more doubt as to their success than as to their cause. Moreover, succor was, evidently, on the way to them. They reckoned on it. With that facility of triumphant prophecy which is one of the sources of strength in the French combatant, they divided the day which was at hand into three distinct phases. At six o’clock in the morning a regiment “which had been labored with,” would turn; at noon, the insurrection of all Paris; at sunset, revolution.
They heard the alarm bell of Saint-Merry, which had not been silent for an instant since the night before; a proof that the other barricade, the great one, Jeanne’s, still held out.
All these hopes were exchanged between the different groups in a sort of gay and formidable whisper which resembled the warlike hum of a hive of bees.
Enjolras reappeared. He returned from his sombre eagle flight into outer darkness. He listened for a moment to all this joy with folded arms, and one hand on his mouth. Then, fresh and rosy in the growing whiteness of the dawn, he said:
“The whole army of Paris is to strike. A third of the army is bearing down upon the barricades in which you now are. There is the National Guard in addition. I have picked out the shakos of the fifth of the line, and the standard-bearers of the sixth legion. In one hour you will be attacked. As for the populace, it was seething yesterday, to-day it is not stirring. There is nothing to expect; nothing to hope for. Neither from a faubourg nor from a regiment. You are abandoned.”
— 5.1.3 Les Miserables (Hapgood)
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