Hel Awaits Me

After stitching up the gashes, Organic was a blur of checking the blood drip from the poor, whimpering Blood Bag, dabbing at the patchy dried blood with a wet rag and smoothing uncolored ointment here and there with his grubby fingers. After that, the loathed Mechanic retreated to a low shelf, tinkering sounds coming from behind his sloped form. When he returned, it was with a syringe of grease-colored liquid which he unceremoniously plunged into Hela’s slight arm.

“For the pain,” Organic rasped, that disturbing smirk tugging at one corner of his chapped lips.

Onward Joe lumbered down the cleared path, deftly disguising His ever-present slight limp as a headstrong strut. His aging body was finally turning on His ancient war wounds. When He arrived, it was with wide eyes of His own - those powder blue irises - Joe might as well have been staring in a mirror.

“Boy!” The Warlord hailed, unnecessarily loud and setting his sights on the child below him, and ignoring the crone. For now. “Do you know, who I am?”

@heirtothecitadel

Though the pain was great and she wanted nothing more than to let the drug ease the discomfort, Hela nearly pushing the needle away, her hands clenching as the liquid disappeared into her arm. “No...” She gripped the edges of the table once the needle was removed, her vision swimming with a fatigue-induced euphoria as she tried to stand up. The pain was eased, enough that her body was willing to sleep to regain her strength.

But she couldn’t. Not when there was still her son to find.

Standing tall despite his terror, the boy gulped as he was addressed, jaw clenching as the Immortan shouted so loudly at him. Part of him wondered if he spoke so loudly because he was old and going deaf, like he’d seen happen to many of the people down here. But he nodded, shaggy hair obscuring his eyes for a moment before he pushed the errant locks away.

“You’re Immortan Joe.” He spoke softly, glancing away to his guardian. The old woman looked ready to rush the War Boys and snatch her ward away. But he couldn’t let that happen. They’d tear her to shreds. “You own everything an’ everyone.”

@maskedwarlord

It hurts! (heirtothecitadel)

16. Your muse has been beaten to near death by thugs. My muse drove them off, but it may be too late.

A chorus of agonized groans, pierced by exhilarating gunshots to quiet the serenades, still sounded. The Immortan had received word raiders were spotted near the Citadel, Corpus’ scope had seen more.

“Hela!” Roared the Warlord, not even bothering to step over the dying bodies that his Boys were eagerly looting. Blonde hair spun up as he looked this way and that, until he spotted a matching white-blonde patch. Matted with blood. Storming over and dropping to his knees next to his daughter, he somewhat ungently pulled her head into his knees. “Hela! Speak to me!”

@heirtothecitadel

The Organic muttered to himself, something about a lost cause, as blunt fingers wove twine ungently into snowy flesh. The wounds were being deftly closed, despite the twine being stained in spots - obviously having been used before and washed and bleached for reuse - and the disgruntled medic looking above her. Close enough for her to smell his awful stench - Organic reeked of old blood, stress sweat and rotting teeth. A jittery red thumb hooked her up to a motionless blood bag, casting longing glances over his bony shoulder. He wanted to be out in the excitement with his brothers.

Luckily for the fast-acting War Boy, The Immortan swaggered onto the elevator after the blow to the feral child’s head. Brittle blond locks cast this way and that as Joe’s nearly-colorless eyes searched about for the source of the ruckus. The God raised one great arm, casting His meaty hand forward several times, signalling the already struggling War Pups and helping Imperators to lower Him faster. The elevator made a dull boom as it made contact with the solid Waste floor, but even over that the call of The Immortan could be heard,

“Bring him to Me!”

@heirtothecitadel

She was vaguely aware of the stitches closing her wounds, but the pain was fading away. Now that she was receiving blood to replenish what she’d lost, her strength was returning, but far slower than normal. The fact she was hardly conscious now was a miracle. Her eyes swam under the lids, flashes of the day coming back to her. The attack. The revelation. The search for her son. Blood ran cold in her veins, though she couldn’t give up. Not when she’d gone through all of this to have her son back.

Down on the Waste floor, the War Boys were making a path for their God, dragging along the boy and his caretaker to present to him. The old woman clung to him, having to be torn away from the child as he was lifted up over the crowd. He stirred at the sudden movement, blue eyes widening as the first sight to meet his gaze was the Immortan himself. He struggled once again, trying to free himself, but it was useless once he was set down before Immortan Joe, trapped on all sides with nowhere to go. The boy stared up at him, tiny compared to the giants around him.

@maskedwarlord

It hurts! (heirtothecitadel)

16. Your muse has been beaten to near death by thugs. My muse drove them off, but it may be too late.

A chorus of agonized groans, pierced by exhilarating gunshots to quiet the serenades, still sounded. The Immortan had received word raiders were spotted near the Citadel, Corpus’ scope had seen more.

“Hela!” Roared the Warlord, not even bothering to step over the dying bodies that his Boys were eagerly looting. Blonde hair spun up as he looked this way and that, until he spotted a matching white-blonde patch. Matted with blood. Storming over and dropping to his knees next to his daughter, he somewhat ungently pulled her head into his knees. “Hela! Speak to me!”

@heirtothecitadel

As those three words exited his daughter’s blood-streaked lips, Joe grinned, madly. Although it was hidden behind His fearsome mask, a wildness settled in Joe’s dilated pupils, tugging His crow’s feet upward. “Double time! If you don’t find the boy don’t bother coming back!” The roar was useless, eaten up in the billows of exhaust fumes of the already departing search party and outshrieked by throngs of kamicrazy Boys, near-rabid at the thought that they could perhaps be the one to deliver the most sought-after prize to their delirious God. Making good time, the trio - constantly buzzed around by impatient Imperators - soon arrived at the Mechanic’s lair. It was all metallic fumes that stung at the nostrils and a broken chorus of agonized groans. The Imperator cradled Hela’s smallish figure in one arm, casting a broad palm over the nearest slab in an attempt to cut a swath through puddles of congealed blood that dotted the makeshift operating table. Succeeding only slightly the man then stooped awkwardly, settling her down as gentle as he could. The Immortan was hollering for Organic, who came grumbling out leisurely. The instructions to “keep her alive” were growled out before Joe cast one last unsettling glance at his dying daughter before swooping around and storming off. To what Joe thought was a more important task - seeking out his Heir. @heirtothecitadel

#maskedwarlord #yeah that works for me!

While the Organic tended to Hela’s wounds as best as he could, given how grave some of them were, there was a commotion down below, the cacophony grabbing the attention of a number of the Wretched. War Boys streamed through the masses, pushing and shoving the unfortunate souls aside in their search for the boy the Immortan sought out so feverishly. Children were torn from their mothers, their cries and pleads to be set free ignored as each was examined, tossed carelessly aside just as another was snatched up.

Then there was a shriek, the War Boys swarming over the crevice on the side of the mountain. Powdered hands yanked an old crone from the entrance, pushing her to the ground when she tried to shout a warning. Another shriek echoed through the rocks, a small figure struggling to be free from the crushing grip of the monsters who intended to kidnap him. Blonde locks stained scarlet with blood as the boy flung his head back hard, hearing the crunch of a nose being broken and the agonized crying of the War Boy who caught him. The victory was short lived, however, as another came and grabbed him, a sharp blow to the back of the head with a wrench silencing him for now.

The boy wouldn’t cause them any more trouble. As long as he breathed when he was handed over to the Immortan, a bump to his head wouldn’t matter.

justamixofmemes

Send ‘🍞’ to throw a loaf of bread at my muse.

OOC Announcement

So I haven’t been as active as usual the past couple of weeks. A lot of things came up and I’m still reeling. My roommates kicked me out to make room for a friend of theirs and I didn’t have anywhere to stay until just this past week. The place I’m staying at doesn’t have wifi but hopefully once work picks up, I can get it installed and come on more often like I want to. Until then, I miss you all and I hope everyone is doing well. ❤️

movedto-trainedfighter-blog

Just a quick update before work. Around the 13th, I'll get wifi at my place and I'll be able to get online again without eating up all of my data. I can't wait to write with everyone again!

#outofwater

Send an angsty headcanon you have for my muse

#;meme #do the thing pls

rp-memes-cafe

Give my muse a pet name

Bonus if it’s relevant to our muse’s relationship or interactions!

#;meme

CONTROL - HALSEY SENTENCE MEME

❝ you should be scared of me. ❞ ❝ i can’t stop this awful energy. ❞ ❝ they sent me away to find them a fortune. ❞ ❝ i tried to hold these secrets inside me. ❞ ❝ please stop you’re scaring me. ❞ ❝ i’m meaner than my demons. ❞ ❝ the house was awake with shadows and monsters. ❞ ❝ who is in control? ❞ ❝ i sat alone in bed til the morning. ❞ ❝ they’re coming for me. ❞ ❝ my mind’s like a deadly disease. ❞ ❝ i paced around for hours. ❞ ❝ i’m well acquainted with villains. ❞ ❝ i can’t stand this person inside me. ❞ ❝ i’m bigger than these bones. ❞ ❝ i jumped at the slightest of sounds. ❞ ❝ the hallways they echoed and groaned. ❞ ❝ they beg me to write them so they’ll never die when i’m dead. ❞ ❝ i’m bigger than my body. ❞ ❝ and all the kids cried out, please stop you’re scaring me. ❞ ❝ i’m colder than this home. ❞ ❝ goddamn right you should be scared of me. ❞ ❝ and i’m well acquainted with villains that live in my head. ❞ ❝ they beg me to write them. ❞ ❝ i turned all the mirrors around. ❞ ❝ goddamn right. ❞

#;meme

wvkong-deactivated20150715

Send ∅ for my muse's opinion about yours.

It hurts! (heirtothecitadel)

16. Your muse has been beaten to near death by thugs. My muse drove them off, but it may be too late.

A chorus of agonized groans, pierced by exhilarating gunshots to quiet the serenades, still sounded. The Immortan had received word raiders were spotted near the Citadel, Corpus’ scope had seen more.

“Hela!” Roared the Warlord, not even bothering to step over the dying bodies that his Boys were eagerly looting. Blonde hair spun up as he looked this way and that, until he spotted a matching white-blonde patch. Matted with blood. Storming over and dropping to his knees next to his daughter, he somewhat ungently pulled her head into his knees. “Hela! Speak to me!”

@heirtothecitadel

“I’m about ready to leave you to die with your insolence!” Joe threatened, the respirator hiss a resonating promise. Despite this, he still pulled hastily up to the Citadel. His commands began booming before he even opened the door of the Gigahorse. Firstly, to send out a search party to scour the various outcroppings for this mysterious cave. His voice lost a bit of it’s fire as he ordered Hela to Organic. “What do you need? What is injured?” A brawny Imperator questioned gruffly after prying open the passenger door and unceremoniously scooping Hela up smoothly and striding to makeshift elevator. The Immortan followed ominously behind and was raised up with them. @heirtothecitadel

She could hear the shouting, the bustle as the War Boys moved to carry out the Immortan’s orders. But everything sounded as if she were hearing it all through a tunnel. Everything seemed so far away as her strength flagged and her vision blurred. The Imperator who carried her, his presence was a comfort, and she rested her busted head on his chest, blood oozing onto bronzed skin. Things were starting to hurt less now. Did this mean she was dying? Dim eyes searched and found her father, fixed on the eyes identical to her own above the mask.

“Bring him home.”

@maskedwarlord

OOC Announcement

So I haven't been as active as usual the past couple of weeks. A lot of things came up and I'm still reeling. My roommates kicked me out to make room for a friend of theirs and I didn't have anywhere to stay until just this past week. The place I'm staying at doesn't have wifi but hopefully once work picks up, I can get it installed and come on more often like I want to. Until then, I miss you all and I hope everyone is doing well. ❤️

#outofwater

It hurts! (heirtothecitadel)

16. Your muse has been beaten to near death by thugs. My muse drove them off, but it may be too late.

A chorus of agonized groans, pierced by exhilarating gunshots to quiet the serenades, still sounded. The Immortan had received word raiders were spotted near the Citadel, Corpus’ scope had seen more.

“Hela!” Roared the Warlord, not even bothering to step over the dying bodies that his Boys were eagerly looting. Blonde hair spun up as he looked this way and that, until he spotted a matching white-blonde patch. Matted with blood. Storming over and dropping to his knees next to his daughter, he somewhat ungently pulled her head into his knees. “Hela! Speak to me!”

@heirtothecitadel

Joe banged with one meaty fist on his sand-encrusted dashboard yet again at the mention of his Heir living amongst those that the Wasteland chewed up and spit out only half-alive. The Wretched. His fair-haired daughter had known the boy would be overwhelmingly important to him, and she still chose to hide him. But his anger quelled at the location, he would send his War Boys there immediately. Perhaps sooner than he had them haul Hela to his perverse doctor.

“He is My Heir, Hela! Don’t you want your son to be something Great?!”

@heirtothecitadel

The anger in his voice brought a weak smile to her lips, and she coughed, her attempt at laughing impossible with how injured she was. Arms quivering as she pushed herself up in her seat, her eyes never lost their fire, and she shook her head.

“He is my child, my son. That alone makes him something great. And he won’t be like you. Never like you, not so long as I have breath in my lungs and fire in my heart. Kill me. Leave me to die. But he will never be your Heir.”

@maskedwarlord

"Scrotus, I request a favor of you." (heirtothecitadel)

“Go on. .. ”

In this day and age, when was killing not necessary? There’s not such thing as neutrality in the wastes. One is either the predator, or preyed upon. Brigga was nobody’s prey. He adorned himself in raiment of leather and bone to remind himself and everyone else of that.

Aside from the weapons his master had allotted his target, Brigga had brought along armaments of his own. In his hands, he carried what constituted a polearm in this day and age. His sidearms were firearms, limited in use by the meager amount of ammunition he was given beforehand.

#;meme #hi i'm still alive #but work has been kicking my butt #hopefully I'll be on later tonight to answer things

As poorly armed as they were, relying on luck she doubts they even possessed, Hela stalls the car and turns it off, thankful for the cover of darkness. She steps out slowly, scanning the area for any traps they could run into. Rollie hops down from the car, the thundersticks strapped to his back, keeping close to his guardian. Since he’d been rescued from Scrotus’s wrath, he’d grown, no longer the scrawny boy he was in the cage. Now he could rival any of the Imperators in fistfights, days spent training to strengthen himself paying off whenever he managed to deck an opponent.

Gods willing, his skills would come in handy.

The woman gestures for Brigga, moving forward down the dark pathway, though she makes certain that he goes first. She doesn’t trust this man, not on her life. But she’ll make do with him.

“Stay quiet. Remember, unless we get spotted, don’t kill anyone. And even then, slit the throat. We can’t draw any attention to ourselves down here.”

#lordballsac

angstmemes

abusive relationship starters

“If you tell anyone about this, they won’t understand and it’ll only get worse, okay?” “You are going to cover those bruises up, aren’t you?” “I won’t let you leave, I love you too much.” “If you would have listened to me in the first place, I wouldn’t have lashed out.” “I told you I don’t like it when you see your friends.” “Please don’t hit me again, I swear I didn’t do it on purpose!” “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” “I don’t know if I can keep this up. I love you, but you’re scaring me…” “How’s your head now? I didn’t mean to hit you that hard, you just mean everything to me and I was upset.” “You’re overreacting, it’s just a little bruise!” “Give me your phone, I want to know if you’ve been texting that boy/girl.” “I told you to be home at five! Where have you fucking been?!” “I knew you’d come back for your things, so I didn’t go into work today and waited for you.” “If you didn’t want me getting into your house, you should’ve changed the locks.” “I’m the only one who wants you. I’m the best you’re going to get.” “Shut your fucking mouth, or I’ll make you!” “I don’t understand how you think hitting me is going to make me listen.” “Why do you stay with me when you deserve so much better? I’ll try not to get so angry next time, I’m sorry.” “Stop crying! I can’t stand your pathetic behaviour! You’re not even bleeding.” “Trust me, I can do a lot worse than this, so you better watch what you say around me.” “How did we get here? We used to be happy.” “Maybe if you weren’t so stupid, I wouldn’t have to get physical all the time.” “You can keep trying to blame me, but in the end it’s all your fault.”

bulletfarming

Story time. Back when we were younger, Moore kept sending me his daughters to marry.

He stopped doing that when I put guns in their hands.

Funny how that works, huh?

#true story

"Scrotus, I request a favor of you." (heirtothecitadel)

“Go on. .. ”

The task ahead would be simple, at least for Brigga. He hopes that buzzards will save her for him, Rollie they could keep. A daughter of the Big One himself should prove an interesting challenge, but not one that was insurmountable. There’s a reason war boys call him the Bonesnapper…..

#lordballsac #hela gon die #if brigga doesn't kill her then this kamicrazy mission will

They come upon the Sunken City in little time, and she reaches out the window to signal to Rollie, who presses himself close to the car. Sharp blue eyes turn to Brigga, unreadable but fixed upon him nonetheless. “Rollie will bring up the rear when we leave the car. You’ll lead and I’ll be between the both of you. I’ll direct you. No killing unless absolutely necessary. Got it?”

thevengefulwife

“Do you always begin conversations this way?” (heirtothecitadel)

“Yes, now that I am back in the Citadel I do. In the waste… My priorities were elsewhere,” says Danu proudly, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders. “I see no reason to hold my tongue, or spread Joe’s lies further. I will tell the truth to any who will listen.”

thevengefulwife

When Danu opens the door to her quarters, Voli was sitting at the small desk in the corner, arms crossed over his thin chest and pouting. There was a smudged chalk slate in front of him, and the Imperator is standing beside Voli, holding a glass of water in his hand.

“Come on, boy, you almost got it,” says the Imperator, sounding exasperated. “And once you do, you can have the water.”

Danu snarls when she sees what is happening, talking over to the Imperator and snatching the water from him. Joe had started to withhold things from them recently if they were not behaving how he wanted them to. Water and food mostly, and today it looked like Voli was having to trade spelling lessons for basic needs. “He’ll get his water now and memorized the damned word later,” hisses Danu, scaring the man off before handing the glass to Voli. Her son gulps down the first two mouthfuls before sipping the rest.

"Hela, meet Voli.“ says Danu motioning to her son. Voli pushes his long, light brown hair from his face and peers owlishly at his sister with big blue eyes, Joe’s eyes, which all Joe’s young seem to have. "Hi,” says the little boy, waving shyly.