#bomb fears

[askbomb]

*Bomb sits on the floor of the safety building. Two pictures in his hands with a note laying on the floor. One picture is the photo taken of his first kid after he was killed. And the second..? A photo of his knew kid*

The note reads:

"Xurmis of the elder Watchers. Bomb of Hermitcraft. God of kids. Return to the Watchers, and your kids shall be fine. We will even make him a Watcher to stay with you. Should you fight back...well, you know what happens.

But not just your kid. Mother Spore. Doc. Aurum. Qpid. All of them. You will have killed them all. Don't forget we have control of you. You work under us.

-X"

*Bomb folds his one good wing around himself, shivering from fear and anger. He wants to fight back. But he knows if he does..he'll kill them all. He no longer has control of himself. If he fights back, he kills them all. If he joins the Watchers again, he kills them all..nothing is going to go right. He dosent want to hurt his freinds. He dosent want to hurt the two he loves. He's scared.*

[askbomb]

*Bomb walks around the small area he made for the war. It's covered in stone bricks and has nothing in the room but these small hooks for the chains*

*Bomb starts attaching the chains and pulling on them, making sure they won't come off. Some did and some didn't, the ones that did ending up hitting him in the face..that wasn't fun.*

*Bomb sits down in a far corner of the room, hugs his knees to his chest, and sobs. He's scared, angry, he's worried these won't work and he'll hurt the ones he love.*

*His sobs are painful and gut wrenching. The kinds of sobs that would make you cry from the sound alone*

[askbomb]

PLEASE I BEG

IM SCAREDDD

[askbomb]

We're foot—slog—slog—slog—sloggin' over Mystera

Foot—foot—foot—foot—sloggin' over Mystera --

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up and down again!)

There's no discharge in the war!

Seven—six—eleven—five—nine-an'-twenty mile to-day

Four—eleven—seventeen—thirty-two the day before --

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up and down again!)

There's no discharge in the war!

Don't—don't—don't—don't—look at what's in front of you.

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again);

Men—men—men—men—men go mad with watchin' em,

An' there's no discharge in the war!

Count—count—count—count—the arrows in the bandoliers.

If—your—eyes—drop—they will get atop o' you!

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up and down again) --

There's no discharge in the war!

We—can—stick—out—'unger, thirst, an' weariness,

But—not—not—not—not the chronic sight of 'em,

Boot—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again,

An' there's no discharge in the war!

'Taint—so—bad—by—day because o' company,

But night—brings—long—strings—o' forty thousand million

Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again.

There's no discharge in the war!

I—'ave—marched—seven—months in 'Ell an' certify

It—is—not—Watchers—devils, dark, or anything,

But boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again,

An' there's no discharge in the war!

Try—try—try—try—to think o' something different

Oh—my—Void—keep—me from goin' lunatic!

(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin' up an' down again!)

There's no discharge in the war!

(This poem is called Boots!

"Boots" is a poem by English author and poet Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). It was first published in 1903, in his collection The Five Nations.

"Boots" imagines the repetitive thoughts of a British Army infantryman marching in South Africa during the Second Boer War. It has been said that if the first four words in each line are read at the rate of two words to the second, that gives the time to which a British foot soldier was accustomed to march.

I thought this poem fit Bomb's thoughts during his war on his home server, so i changed judt a few words, bur I reccomend reading and listening to the original poem to both honor it and to understand the Insanity behind it.)