Somebody Once Trolled Me, Successfully Rickrolld Me

somebody once trolled me, successfully rickroll’d me

Tumblr and Ouran part 2 (or 3)

“I’m concerned that so many of you are so intrigued by my personal relations with her… Surely I shouldn’t have to suffer this harassment. I figured the lore was clear enough I wouldn’t have to explain…Apparently I was wrong.”

//In light of the subject of Leona, heres all those Leona questions I’ve gotten (I lied. Thats not all of them…)

Down & Out

(( A story about a Star Wars: The Old Republic character of mine cause I have no place else to put it. Under a cut because of NSFW gore. ))

She was going to die. Cold crept over her limbs, making the rattataki’s movements slow and clumsy. Djaak looked at the woman lying beside her. Her bounty. The human’s eyes were wide, staring at nothing. She was dead. The cost, though, had been high.

Djaak popped the seals along the side of her armor and peeled off the front of her chestpiece with a pained grunt. Then she felt along her abdomen. The vibroblade had parted armor and flesh with equal ease, slicing deep. Her fingers encountered the rush of blood, timed to the ever-increasing beat of her heart as it struggled. Breathing hurt, each inhale expanding her lungs against the rising flow of blood from the severed veins and other organs. She had little time and she knew it. Anything she did was just a stopgap against the wave of injuries that threatened to drown her.

She scrabbled for the medpack strapped to her hip, opened it on the ground beside her, and felt around inside. The painkiller narcotic was in an easy-to-dispense hypospray. It would make her sleepy, but at this point she didn’t think she had much choice if she was going to be able to do anything about this herself. She applied it to her neck, feeling the warmth of the medicine flowing through her immediately. She just hoped it wasn’t going to flow right out the hole in her guts.

The bounty hunter squirmed her pack out from under her and reached inside. The small blowtorch she used for opening locked doors and occasionally repairing weapons and armor came quickly to her hand. She adjusted the flame to its coolest setting. Then, with a deep breath, she began to wave it over the sliced skin.

At first she was able to gasp and clench her teeth, breath coming in arrested pants as she seared herself. Then she had to move farther in. Eventually she was screaming, shaking, her hand barely able to move without encountering scorched, sensitive flesh. When she could bear no more, when her vision began to grey, she removed it.

Shuddering, she lay still for long moments. Silver eyes stared at the sky, willing herself awake. She couldn’t sleep now. Death beckoned but she was not yet ready to leave the arena of life.

The medpack yielded a single sealing strip, a long bandage that bonded with her skin, keeping the wound closed. And hopefully keeping her guts in place. Assuming her cauterization had stopped enough of the bleeding for long enough for her to get back to her ship and then to the space station in orbit to let them do real medical work on her. Keep death at bay.

With another application of the painkiller, Djaak took a deep breath, then peeled the backing off the sealing strip before slapping it over the hole in her abdomen from end to end. Another scream pierced the air as she shuddered, the burning sensation around the wound while the strip bonded with her skin too much to bear silently.

She still had much to do. The list was like a mantra in her head: sit up, stand, walk to ship, autopilot to station. She repeated it, knowing it was the key to life.

Sitting hurt, but it let her breathe more easily. The pressure on her wound and the bandage from the blood flowing down turned those breaths into gasps of pain. But she needed to keep moving. Or else she would never move again.

Stirred by these thoughts, Djaak got her knees under her, careful to stay upright. Then she stood. Her head swam and she spread her legs wide, wobbling while trying to remain standing. When she was able to take a breath and not feel the threat of falling nipping at her heels, she turned toward her ship.

The body of her bounty caught her eye. If she left it, another might find it and claim the kill. And she might not have the credits for her own recovery without it. Growling in frustration, Djaak thought furiously. She wasn’t capable of dragging the body, she couldn’t get it on her shoulders. Perhaps the head would be all that’s required, but she doubted she had the strength to lift a blade with force significant enough to do so.

Then her eyes landed on the vibroblade. The irony of it was sweet enough to bring a smile to her face. Djaak lowered herself to her knees beside the body and wrenched the blade from the woman’s death grip. It took only moments to sever head from neck, blood pooling from both wounds beneath the body. Djaak drew a mesh back from a pouch on her belt and rolled the head inside. Then she tied it up and hung in from her belt at the center of her back, helping distribute the weight.

That taken care of, she had to rise again.

This time was less successful. Whether from overconfidence or the initial surge of painkiller wearing off, she grew dizzy as soon as she got her legs under her and fell forward, landing on hands and knees.

The jolt drew another pained cry from her as her wound heaved against the band holding it in place. She could feel her insides shifting unnaturally. She stared into the pool of the other woman’s blood and her stomach would take no more. She poured a mixture of vomit and blood out of her mouth, heaving painfully. And again. And again.

The cold was climbing her limbs. And her head still swam. She wobbled, eyes sliding shut, and Djaak tipped sideways, landing with a thud.

All was quiet. She would die here. She had to accept it. Because she’d fought it long enough.

Death had been a boon companion from the start, followed her from a young age into the arena, against opponents she’d befriended. Other children she’d played with, trained with, grown to like and then been pitted against in such battles that men might bet on whether the smaller boy or the larger girl might triumph, cheers and jeers the only sounds to bear witness to that loss of life. As someone she held dear fell. Until she taught herself to feel nothing. Only to fight. To win. At all costs. Because that was her purpose. Now she faced death knowing she’d done all she could. Djaak coughed, blood splattering the ground from between her lips.

She closed her eyes.

And what she saw was failure. A life half-lived. Her time in the arena gone and done. Her career as a bounty hunter only just begun. No legacy. No titles. No glory. An insignificant death among thousands.

Djaak pushed herself off the ground, sitting up slowly. She was cold and weak, but she wouldn’t die this way. She wouldn’t give in.

Every motion was painful and difficult, her limbs taking a long time to respond to her mind’s commands. In time she was on her feet again, stumbling toward her shuttle. It seemed a short distance away. Until every step was an immense accomplishment. And every breath threatened to send her vomiting again. She couldn’t stand more blood loss. It was bad enough already.

She counted steps to keep going. Take two more and rest. Then take another five and rest. It was crude motivation, but it provided forward motion.

The ship was warm inside but Djaak didn’t let herself get comfortable. She still had work to do.

The bounty head rode copilot as she made the ship ready to launch. A few quick taps sent a priority message to the orbital station, requesting medical aid. And another sent her client a message that the bounty was taken down.

As the ship lifted off the surface of the planet, Djaak put it on autopilot and let the darkness take her. She had done everything she could. Now she just had to wait.

She spent three weeks in a bacta tank. At first she just slept, the floating sensation familiar and soothing. She’d been a patient too many times for it not to be. Gradually she became more aware of her surroundings. The bounty had been picked up, they told her. Her payment transferred to her accounts. Of course, much of that was used to pay for her treatment, for maintenance and storage of her ship.

Back to where she started. Needing money, needing work, trying to find a score that would elevate her name. It was a hard climb. But Djaak wasn’t giving up. Not even close.

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Hey you! You're lovely. You're creative and absolutely swell. Keep being the beautiful person that you are, you fantastic individual, you. You're a joy to behold.

Awww, thanks anon! That’s really, really sweet! I can’t say enough how much I needed this today. Hooray for the kindness of strangers I likely know :P.