@leenathegreengirl 💚💜

Today I’m going to see ROTS! 💗💗

Without this i wouldn’t have the motivation of doing my au, im so happy i ran into this months ago ❤️

Hello! I have a request idea that’s based on this song from Epic! (It’s a song that hasn’t been officially released yet, so if you don’t want spoilers you don’t have to listen to it! Sorry if this ended up being a bother): https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=JqsvUBLvWTs

The idea is for a Hunter x fem! Royal!reader (although reader is close to Hunter’s brothers as well, she’s their unofficial sister-in-law). Hunter is a clone, reader is a princess/noble/whatever class of royalty you want — they were having a forbidden relationship before Order 66 came around and they were separated. Reader is being pressured to marry, even though she’s secretly waiting for Hunter. Eventually, she is forced to take some step that would lead to her getting married, so she comes up with multiple challenges that not only the suitor has to complete, but his top men too. The challenges are designed so that only the batch would be able to successfully do them all.

Meanwhile, Hunter and his siblings hear about this the moment they’re able to come back for the reader, and immediately know what they have to do: take part in that challenge so that Hunter can win the reader’s hand (but in disguise, because wanted by the empire and whatever).

Crosshair is back and Tech lives if that’s okay.

This is the moment I've been waiting for. Bless your sweet heart Nonny. I have fallen in love with this idea even more through our correspondence. To be honest, I have had the entire EPIC musical on repeat, gaining inspo and love for the production while also experiencing a newfound appreciation for Homer's Odyssey. I hope this fulfills all your EPIC desires, Nonny! Enjoy!! （＾∀＾●）ﾉｼ

The Challenge🏹

Pairing: TBB Hunter x Royal!Reader Warnings: references to premeditated SA/ murder, immolation, canon-typical violence, death, tearful reunion, kiss Summary: The Batch take on physical augmentation measures to alter their appearances so that they’re unrecognizable to their constituents as well as their enemies. After learning that the mission they embarked on was only a ruse to preoccupy them so that someone might usurp their command, they urgently rush back to your Kingdom in order to save you from the sordid fate, agreeing to complete the series of tests needed for Hunter to be worthy of claim to your empire.

Read on ao3 - 7k words

Writing Masterlist   -   My kofi✨

“Do any of them catch your eye?” Omega keeps you company as you watch the growing number of suitors awaiting to be chosen to rule by your side. You’re perched at a high terrace, given a bird’s-eye view of the selfish masses as they devour everything in your pantries meters below.

“You know there’s no one else that can do that other than Hunter.” You tell her while clutching one of his scarlet sashes you’ve woven yourself.

“Yeah… I know.” Omega resigns her attempts at playing along with this cursed arrangement. She harbors her own pain for missing Hunter but looking at how you struggle to keep your composure before her drives a deeper dagger into your collective pain. “What are you going to do?”

You watch the suitors jibe and converse amongst chosen cliques, fattening themselves on your food and wine while making themselves at home on the very furniture Hunter built with his own hands. It disgusts you, having these fiends in your home, but your mind hatches a plan to take care of them all. “I am going to buy him some time.”

Omega tilts her head at you, confused when she has heard countless reports that Hunter and his band of brothers have wrecked their ship, found crashed ashore with not a single survivor. “But he isn’t coming back, is he? They said-”

“I believe he is still out there, fighting to get back to us.” You reach down for Omega’s hand, so small in yours. “I feel it.”

You carefully conjure an array of tests based on tactics you’ve witnessed your beloved execute flawlessly with his king's guard. This will weed out those who are not dexterous enough, strong enough, or clever enough to rule this kingdom. The trials are to begin at your command, all suitors eagerly waiting to show off their skills. As an added obstacle for them, you send out the plans for a competition publicly, opening your doors for any and all to display their might while drastically increasing the number of contestants. You would rather die than let them think they’ve even the slightest stake in this game. It is with this public broadcast that Hunter learns of the arrangement and devises his own strategy to infiltrate the castle.

“How long do we have to warm up with these before we get used to them?” Wrecker’s voice is rippling through octaves, struggling to enunciate due to the permanent frog in his throat from the modulation device.

“You don’t.” Hunter responds, his own inflection taking on a completely different resonance. “The point is to act like it’s not there.”

“Speak for yourself.” Crosshair adds, sounding far deeper than usual.

“I do not see what the issue is.” Tech manages to control his vocal patterns so much so that he can utter full sentences without a single disruption. “The device is not a major irritation.”

Echo clears his throat repetitively, visibly bothered by the mechanism occupying his vocal cords. “Don’t be surprised if you’re stuck doing all the talking then.”

“Comfort isn’t the priority as long as it’s intended purpose is utilized.” Tech reasons with them, realizing that the disguise has enhanced his vision so that he can abandon his lenses. 

“Why are we doing this again?” Wrecker asks, peering at his unrecognizable features in the dusty reflection of a dingy window in the alley. They all walk closely huddled together in a group, entering the queue to perform in the Queen’s Trials. “I don’t see how we can’t just barge in there and rough the lot of them up.”

“Because, if we’re going to enter the games, we have to be just another face in the crowd.” Hunter leads the group as they slowly approach the main square. It is full to bursting with excited spectators, patrons and hopeful suitors just waiting for their chance to enter the colossal castle. “If she believes we’re dead, I can’t risk anyone hurting her or Omega to force us to abide by their terms.”

They enter the heaving halls, rubbing shoulders with countless greedy applicants as Hunter suppresses his detestation at their gorging themselves. The ornate upholstery from wall to wall is not saved from the filth, soiled by their muddied boots as splatters of refreshments soil practically every square inch of the floor. While some contestants are disclosing their brains or brawn through insignificant displays of showmanship, others are passed out from overindulgence, clearly seeing this massive gathering as an excuse to frolic in your riches.

Hunter sees that a few more bold competitors hang from the rafters, utilizing your elegant home decor as mere work-out equipment. Another group is gathered in the center of the arms cache, passing out weapons amongst themselves to determine their aim and proficiency, using anything they can get their hands on as a target. 

The desecration of your once beautiful home instills Hunter with a turbulent rage that only seems to swell with every passing crime committed within these walls. It is when he sees you overlooking everyone from the high terrace that he stirs with something other than unbridled animosity.

You squint from the highest point in the room at one of the suitors that just walked in, noticing a difference in the way he carries himself. A group of four closely navigate the tightly packed area with him, filing through the masses until they reach the main congregation point. It is at this moment you decide to seal the doors, cutting off the allotted admission period. You attempt to address the nominees to no avail, their raucous voices booming through the space at many decibels higher than yours.

“Attention!” You call out to them, sighing deeply when no one beyond the party of five bothers to look at you.

“Your attention, please!” You try a second time, only to get the same result.

“Hello, everyone!” Still nothing, so you take a more drawn-out approach to your speech. “If you could just be quiet, we could get on with the competition!”

“YOUR QUEEN HAS SPOKEN!” Omega’s voice pierces every set of eardrums in the vicinity with screeching frequencies, your own ringing with the strain. She shrugs at you but smiles when everyone actually obeys and falls silent. You give her an approving grin, tousling her blonde fringe playfully before setting both hands on the rail of the balcony.

“Thank you for being here.” You slowly communicate to the many individuals below, trying to mask the bitterness in your voice when you see that a lot of them are still lazing about and taking advantage of your conveniences. “As you know, each of you has the opportunity to implement your own stratagem in order to complete these challenges. There are no rules. Just know that only one of you must prevail.”

“Get to the trials already!” One impatient observer calls from where he stands in the open courtyard.

Omega frowns at this flagrant disrespect, shaking her head in disappointment while you gather your thoughts to continue. In order to really take them by surprise, you trigger the alternating mechanisms in the structure of the palace, changing the layout to accommodate for the influx of persons. They watch as your forgiving pieces of furniture and tables full of refreshments disappear into the inhospitable vacancy of an empty courtyard. Pillars of differing heights protrude from the floor, towering above the hefty crowd. “Your first challenge is simple. Bring me a flower using only these pillars to reach my terrace.”

“Psh.” One particularly confident adversary says before taking on the endeavor of scaling the lofty columns. “Watch and learn, peasants.”

He gets about a third of the way up, moving quickly with ease. Onlookers observe, translating his technique into their own methods they plan to utilize when their turn comes up. So far so good, he operates completely unscathed until he reaches the main stretch.

He swipes a flower from one of the hanging bundles suspended to a planter’s window box, placing it between his teeth to keep his hands free as he hoists himself as high as his abilities will allow. Although, he proved to be a bit overzealous as he misjudges the distance between the pillar he is perched atop and one that would deliver him to your very balcony. He mutters a confused exclamation when he takes his final leap, missing the mark which results in his rapid demise.

“AHHHHH!” He screams all the way down, falling silent with the squelching impact. With your chin raised, you glare at their reactions, looking down on them as they are frozen in shock of what they just witnessed. A large fraction of contestants weighs the risk to the reward, forfeiting their position in the contest while those who remain begin scaling the pillars at their own pace.

One by one, they fall as their gusto is no match for their lack of skills. Hunter takes his time when climbing the pillars, keeping his brothers close for personal assurance. They are coming up on the very same section all other contestants have bungled, either costing them their lives or severe injury. In these tense seconds, Hunter is taken into Wrecker’s arms, positioned like a torpedo to appear more aerodynamic. In a single pass, Wrecker tosses him with all his might, allowing Hunter to reach the tallest point in the room. Though, when you see him, he looks just like any other stranger. Hunter stabilizes himself on the pillar, more focused on you than the perilous height he’s reached. He leans off of it, plucking a single flower from the nearest flourishing pot to hand to you. There is something in this exchange that perturbs you, forcing you to read into his mannerisms thoroughly. Sadly, he descends the pillars just as quickly as he came and you are left wanting, curious about this lone contender. Who was it that helped him? Would he have accomplished this otherwise? You are left with more questions than answers following this first trial.

Hunter slides down the sides of the pillars’ inclined structure. Once he reaches the bottom, he is scorned by the others for utilizing unconventional tactics to accomplish the goal. 

“That’s not fair!” One shouts louder than the rest. “He had help!”

“Were you not listening when I said that there are no rules?” You shut down the claims of this sore loser, justifying the methods of this mystery man. “I didn’t say you couldn’t form teams or have help. Just that only one of you will be crowned my king. This man succeeded and has won this trial; therefore, he is the closest to achieving that victory than any of you.”

“Give us the next trial!” Another commands while they begin to decide if they want to team up or remain independent.

“As you wish.” The pillars collapse back into the floor to reveal a different set of structures taking their place. An array of targets appears, forming an archery course as a singular longbow appears atop a pedestal from a chamber in the floor. There is a surplus of arrows as well as enhanced attachments sights, counterweights and whatever else meant to assist the wielder. They ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ at the fun toy they get to handle, already grappling with each other to claim the first try. Hunter and his brothers watch as they change its core components, foolishly thinking any number of those modifications will help them at all. “This will be a test of focus and precision, but you will also be judged on the speed with which you complete the course.”

“How long do we got to finish?” One of the men asks when you pause to see if they have any interjections.

“That is for you to determine.” You say resolutely. “Whoever completes their run in the shortest amount of time wins this challenge.”

As expected, they each believe that these fail safes and accessories will be their salvation, a leg-up in the competition. They all start out the same, managing to hit half the targets dead on with no issue, but once they begin to get further and further away, they falter. Stray arrows impale the castle walls, a lantern is shot out by accident, and an antique banner even takes a nosedive when someone realizes they’ve aimed for its fasteners and not the target.

“This trial is stupid!” An especially defeated contender tosses the bow to the floor at his feet and the clatter of its refined wood coming in contact with the marble disappoints you. They’ve been at this for hours, some taking a much longer time than others, but each is still given their fair chance. “How is anyone expected to land a shot that far away!”

Crosshair steps ahead of his brothers while patting Hunter on the shoulder. His disguise helps keep his true identity concealed from you, but you can sense that he’s volunteering to perform in the stead of the previous winner. First it was the burly man that helped him get the flower to you, and now another is offering his skills to ensure he is triumphant.

Crosshair doesn’t say anything, taking the bow into his possession and removing each little modification these simpletons managed to secure to it. He looks down the sights and calibrates his view before loading with a fresh arrow. He smirks coyly at the other contenders as he turns to draw his arm back. Crosshair keeps the arrow’s tip pointed at the ground and waits for Hunter to walk over with his own stopwatch, an heirloom that he is never without. The onlookers groan when they realize this pair is working together as Hunter’s glory becomes more forthcoming than they would like.

Hunter stands beside Crosshair, his hand closely hovering over the control mechanism of his stopwatch as his brother patiently waits for his signal, initiating his run with a single drop of his arm. Crosshair operates in milliseconds, the thin stalk of the arrow grazes against his cheek cyclically as he aims down the range, releasing it and reloading in quick collected increments. He hits every single target dead in the center, progressing through the course at record speeds. Although, a snag in his run threatens to sabotage the outcome of his result in the form of exhausted ammunition. Crosshair is running out of arrows and knows he does not have enough to tag the few last targets. 

He goes for an arrow but falls short, advertising to the entire group that he’s plumb dry, but that doesn’t stop him from reaching for a concealable micro-crossbow secured to a holster on his ankle, deactivating the safety and making his mark on the unscathed objectives. 

Hunter records the time on his stopwatch and announces it for all to hear. “Thirty-three seconds, my queen.”

You are impressed by the level of cunning these suitors flaunt at you, given no choice but to name this remarkable archer the winner of this trial. “Thank you, kind sir. Your loyal compatriot takes this round.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” As if on cue, one of the suitors calls this outcome into dispute. “You didn’t say we could use our own weapons!”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t either.” You argue his stance, fully prepared with an answer to bring a stop to the debate in technicalities. “Perhaps you’re not intelligent enough to be my king.”

The suitors are vexed by this seemingly systematic result, following the pattern and even assuming any future trials to end up the same. They plot amongst themselves, dabbling with the thought of taking the crown and all its advantages for themselves.

They speak openly, whispering about the many concealed armaments they each carry on their person. This amassing personal arsenal varies from anything between short daggers and melee tools to ranged sidearms of their own. It’s not much, but it’s enough to pose a threat to you and Omega.

“How many more trials do you think she has for us?” A suitor asks, jaded from being here.

“I don’t know, but I’m ready to storm her gates myself.” Another one mischievously rubs his hands together, eyeing your perfectly groomed physique from where you stand at the balcony.

“She can’t fight us all off.” Someone else agrees, putting more devious ideas into their heads.

“We can even take the kid to make sure this kitty plays nice.” The horrifying lengths they are willing to go to pillage the sanctity of you and your family is alarming as they continue to conspire a plan for your expiration.

“I ain’t no babysitter.” Another voice remarks senselessly in regard to Omega. “Just kill it.”

“Are we going to let her stall like this any longer?” They are beginning to understand what you’re doing, unable to be fooled by your ruse and getting more brazen with their desires as the time passes.

“A few flights of stairs aren’t enough to keep me away.” More shifty mentions cause your stomach to turn, revolted at the thought of being mobbed by any number of them.

“She made the mistake of hosting this here in the palace, where she’s vulnerable.” At the breaking interval of this mention, trap doors engage without announcement, and a few succumb to the spikey depths, wailing in agony when they reach the bottom. The suitors stop their chatting when they see another trial has begun, their jaws hanging open in cowardice.

“The third challenge is to survive.” You order them while the floor collapses into haunting pits of despair. A few panic and flee, only to fall to their bloody deaths when they regret not anticipating where the tiles will give way next. Hunter and his brothers hop between the tiles without difficulty, passing this challenge as a unit this time when each stand perched on a sturdy tile of their own. The leftover suitors pile on top of one another, multiple occupying one tile at a time to keep from falling over. Some have less integrity than others as they shove the misfortunate contestants off the platform entirely, the self-serving survivors punished by hearing them disappear into the dungeons below.

The floor is soon reverted back to its normal arrangement and the straggling suitors leap for solid ground. They all take in frenetic breaths to soothe their nerves from the near death they were so close to suffering, save for Hunter and his brothers as they knew exactly where to stand in order to be spared. Hunter issues clandestine instructions to his brothers, telling them to scatter while the suitors are distracted. Every immediate exit is sealed from access by Crosshair and Wrecker, the collected weapons arsenal the suitors formed together has been confiscated by Tech and Echo, all while Hunter never leaves the spot on his own tile. 

The very same enigmatic winning contestant gazes at you from his tile, proud and immoveable while the rest are still collecting their senses. His stoicism is certainly capturing, accustomed and natural, yet you cannot shake the familiarity in him. This façade soon deteriorates when he begins to cough, producing something he spits out and crushes with his boot. With the extraction of the augmentation device, his features ripple and twitch, reverting back into what closely resembles your Hunter. You remain unconvinced, having noticed he stands thinner in his frame, the glimmer in his eyes having all but disappeared. There’s no way this is him, is it?

“Is it just me, or does that look like the old king?” One of them says while studying Hunter closely. He hears this, pivoting on his heels to look at the man who said that. More become aware of his striking resemblance to their almighty ruler, putting distance between themselves and Hunter.

“Where are our weapons?” Hunter watches as they scramble for their makeshift cache, finding it empty. “They were right here!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Another interposes his thoughts. “The king wouldn’t dare compete in his own trials!”

“Even if that is the king, there’s more of us and only one of him!” Their boasting will be the death of them as they have no idea their fates have been sealed since the beginning. Slowly, they encircle Hunter, getting ready to pounce on him when the time is right, but his deterring address causes them to reconsider.

“Which one of you here calls the shots?” Hunter asks, his head hanging low in a ruminating bow.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” One of them speaks for the rest. “We’re all our own men. We made the decision to be here.”

“I am going to give you one chance.” Hunter starts, addressing them as a group. “You leave my palace right now, or it becomes your tomb. Do not test me, for I will bury you where you stand.”

“We weren’t bothering anyone.” One of them adds, as if that is justification enough for what they’ve done. “Just having some fun.”

“The queen is mine.” Hunter continues, turning his head intimidatingly as he speaks. “That child… is mine. This palace and everything in it belong to me. You have severely damaged one of those and I will not see you damage the others.”

The suitors are silent, unsure if they should charge or wait to see what he says next.

“This is my home. If I passed through your thresholds to gluttonize your pantries, soil your furnishings, threaten to defile your wives and execute your children, what would you do?” Hunter turns to face them, letting the wrath in his voice simmer through the broiling hostility he feels for these unsophisticated heathens.

A suitor scoffs, provoked by the thought. “Well, I would have to kill you.”

“That’s exactly right.” At this mention, the lights go out and the suitors are left to their own devices. Paralyzed with fear, they try to huddle closer in hopes that it would buffer the damage sustained, but realize this plan renders them as exposed as fish in a barrel. From the haunting stillness, Hunter tells them one last parting remark. “You might have thought that you had me cornered, stuck in here with you, but you’re the one’s trapped in here with me.”

The squelching of steel slicing through flesh breaks the silence as Hunter drives their own weapons into their soft appendages. He starts with the suitor closest to him, destroying his kneecap with a singular motion to get him to drop. Hunter then rips the sword out of his leg, causing a guttural scream to be emitted roaringly. Though, the oppressive noise doesn’t last long when the singing steel is then shoved into his throat, replacing the shrieks with choked gurgles and respirations. Hunter doesn’t stop there, increasing the instinctive mercilessness as he then retracts the blade from the suitor like one would fashion a lever, completely slicing his skull in half. 

The first of many bodies drops with a thud, causing the rest of the suitors to scatter. One of them slips on the pooling ichor, falling behind the rest.

“No! No, please!” He begs pitifully for his sorry life, but it falls on deaf ears, failing to appeal to Hunter’s compromised nature. His voice is once again interrupted by what sounds like a bucket of water being spilt all over the floor. Something small and dense rolls away, colliding with a hiding suitor’s ankle like a child’s kick ball. 

The suitor humors his morbid curiosity, kneeling down to get a closer look through the obscurity of the murky dark. Right when he reaches a squat to examine this mysterious object, a single torch’s light very slightly fills the room. The flickering shadows warp the heavily mangled features of the severed head resting at his feet, causing him to fall backwards into an exposed seated position, confronted by the malevolent Hunter himself. 

The lights have gone out for you too, so you manage to try and make out what you can see from the balcony with a low-voltage lantern. It’s hard to see from all the way up here, but the sounds you hear cannot be mistaken.

“What was that?” Omega grabs hold of your gown, clenching her little fist around the fabric tightly so that she doesn’t lose you in the grim setting.

“They’re killing each other…” You could care less which of them is doing the deed, but once it registers that a massacre is taking place, you scoop Omega up into your arms and flee to the safest place in the castle.

A few quick thinkers make for the exit doors only to find that they have been fortified and sealed. They pointlessly pound on them when confronted with this predicament, expressing their woes loudly for all to hear. “I don’t understand! If the king was standing over there, who locked these passageways?”

Just as one suitor scrutinizes the issue, he is shot with a lightning-fast arrow that pins his face to the frame of the exit. His eyes drift in different directions as crimson tears stream down his face, showcasing the brain-dead impact the killing blow had on him. Crosshair approaches the few collected suitors, moored by dread as they watch him load his bow with three additional arrows, knocking them all at once before letting them fly. They each fall in a pile before him, their final sights being the seconds it takes Crosshair to extract the arrows from their still-warm flesh. With them vanquished, he joins his brothers to lend his assistance if need be. He comes upon Wrecker nearby, actively in the process of gouging a suitor’s eyes out with his bare hands.

“Take back what you said about the queen! The princess!” Wrecker is applying all his weight to him, his thumbs disappearing into the suitor’s eye sockets as he crushes him. Crosshair looks around and is able to see at least five additional bodies having undergone the same misfortune. The last one Wrecker is working on has nothing left within him but screams. He punches, kicks and claws at Wrecker to get off him, but it only causes Wrecker to deal more damage as he strains himself to death. “Or I’ll make you!”

The suitor’s vocal cords are blown out when Wrecker finally smashes his brain to mush, wiping the visceral matter on the peasant’s smock of a shirt to clean his own hands while disgracing his body even more. Crosshair greets him proudly, aiming for help in tracking down the stragglers as well as their brothers hunting them down.

“Not cooperating, are they?” Crosshair jokes with him dryly as his gaze hovers about Wrecker’s beastly disposition.

Wrecker chuckles, finding humor in Crosshair’s quip while cracking his knuckles. “No, but I like it this way.”

Echo hasn’t reverted from his disguise yet, blending in with whatever suitors may be left as he and Tech have concocted a blueprint to eliminate a whole flock of these suitors at once. He pretends to be on their side, leading them down a narrow corridor where the storage and apothecary resides. “Quick! In here!”

They’re bested and hopeless, willing to do anything that might allow them to stay alive. At this glimmer of deliverance, they all file into the wine cellar to catch their breath. 

“How the hell are we going to get out of here?” A suitor asks aloud.

“It’s no use!” Another opposes; certain they’re all dead men walking. “You heard the king! He said he would bury us where we stand!”

“Where did the rest go? I’m sure there were still more of us out there.” They each continue to reflect on the grim images they witnessed, wondering how many are still alive. 

“They’re dead.” A suitor chimes in from where he sits in the corner, rocking back and forth as he grapples with his sanity. “They’re all… dead.”

“Look, catastrophizing isn’t going to help us.” Echo directs the group to the case of wine taken from one of the brimming shelves of provisions. “Let’s all take a second and think of a way to take this king down.”

“Yeah, he’s right. Besides, I could really use a drink.” One suitor matches the energy Echo’s disguise is putting out, eagerly snatching a bottle of the wine for himself to sip on. Others follow suit, grabbing bottles and downing the sweetness. They gulp mouthfuls of it until their bellies feel the warmth of the alcohol. One by one, they all quench their uneasy thirst, their fists furiously gripping the neck of their bottles.

“This wine is a little… khe-khe… it’s a little dry, no?” One suitor stops his gulping, questioning the vinification process of this batch between coughs. 

“It’s not dry if you keep drinking it.” Another suitor interjects between ravenous swigs.

“N-no this… khe-khe-khe… there’s something wrong with-” Before he could complete his thought, a suitor collapses to the floor, seizing as he chokes on foamy vomit tinted pink. The others immediately discard the bottles of wine while falling like dominoes to their knees as their throats are progressively sealed shut, blocked by their own burbling retches. They grasp at their collars, ripping their shirts open as if that will help air get into their lungs any faster. Their features are darkened by the bursting of blood vessels when denied oxygen, blooming deeply across each suffocating mug. 

Tech adjusts his spectacles upon walking in as Echo begins to cough as well, though it’s for a completely different reason entirely. With Tech having left his disguise in the apothecary where he got the poison, Echo regurgitates his modulator and reveals to the suitors he was against them all along. He spits it out as Tech puts the empty bottle of strychnine on the on the floor so that the suitors can see just how fucked they truly are, their bloodshot eyes concentrating on its skeletal label as they are denied their last breaths.

Crosshair and Wrecker find them, stunned by Tech and Echo’s united endeavor as death surrounds their brothers. 

“Woah… What happened here?” Wrecker asks, gawking at the sordid mess in the storage room.

“I think I have an idea.” Crosshair adds, tipping the glass bottle over with his foot.

“Have you seen Hunter?” Echo asks them, discouraged to notice he’s still missing.

“We were hoping he was with you.” Wrecker admits, saddened when their leader is nowhere to be found.

“He wasn’t very pleased with what they were saying about Omega and the Queen.” Tech says dishearteningly.

“Neither am I.” Wrecker’s face turns into a downward scorn when reminded of their corrupt plots.

“Let’s find him then.” Echo convenes with his brothers determinedly, making their way through the halls.

“Gotcha, bastard!” Hunter is charged by a couple stragglers when he passes through a vacant doorway amidst his homicidal tirade, one of them grappling from behind as his sword arm becomes restrained. Hunter can see the accomplice make his approach, closing the distance while brandishing a shimmering dagger. “Do it! Now!”

Hunter behaves like a rabid animal, growling and grimacing as his teeth shining brightly with primal seething. Hunter doesn’t stop the struggle, swaying in all directions to throw his assailant off center. It seems to be working as the one coming at him with the dagger pauses, unable to measure up an efficient strike. “Quit your moving!”

Hunter waits for him to get close enough, gauging his timid steps with the length his leg could reach. When the suitor makes it into Hunter’s circle, he delivers an unruly kick to his groin, freeing up the chance to bluntly headbutt the one still grappling with him. Hunter breaks free of this hold, shoving the suitor against the nearest wall where his head collides with the brick, fracturing it deeply. He falls to the ground, dazed and slowly becoming incapacitated. Hunter then directs his attention to the other tending to his wounded manhood, kicking him across the face to stun him as well. Hunter begins to pick them up, dragging both suitors back to the main hall where the trials took place. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Hunter ties them to a set of chairs facing back-to-back. As they groggily awake, he proposes a question for each of them. “Fire or blade.”

“Fuck you!” One suitor spits at him, relinquishing his choice.

Hunter punches the suitor for his insolence, causing him to groan from the abrupt impact. He circles around to the other suitor, wiping the spit off his face to ask him the very same. “Fire or blade.”

“I-I don’t know what you want from me! P-please! You’ve killed everyone else! We’re nothing to you!” He doesn’t decide either, opting to plead for mercy when he is not permitted to do so.

“Fire it is.” Hunter apathetically walks over to a brass gallon of lantern fuel resting against a massive unlit hearth. He crouches down and lifts it with purpose, uncorking it as he turns on his heels to retrace his steps towards them. All the while Hunter does this, one screams curses at him as the other still petitions for leniency. It does not work as he’s already decided to empty the contents of the brass gallon atop both their forms, drenching them in incendiary fuel. 

Hunter walks to the outer perimeter of the main hall and lights a woven wick with one of the only dimly lit torches still secured to a marble pillar decorating the space. The flame spreads down the wick in a bright orange glow, bathing Hunter in blazing hues. He tosses the wick at the remaining two suitors, consuming them in a scorching flare. Hunter’s brothers are not searching long before they’re called by the sounds of martyrdom.

They come upon the devilish silhouette of their beloved brother watching these suitors cook, the flames emerging into a brightened column at the center of the courtyard. As the suitors writhe in agony, their features melt and fry, giving way to charred bone and muscle. Soon, all that is left is the sound of crackling flames and billowing smoke. It doesn’t take long for them to be reduced to embers. Hunter stares at them, his eyes cemented to the luminous cinders as his brothers gather close.

“Hunter?” Echo asks him, wanting to gently ease him out of this trance. “It’s us. We’re here.”

“There’s no one left.” Wrecker adds encouragingly. “It’s over.”

“Can he hear us?” Tech asks, wondering if he might have gotten hurt in all the craziness.

“I can hear you just fine.” He answers, a slight quiver in his voice when he tells them this. Hunter tightly grips the hilt of his sword, clenching it securely before raising it above his head and swinging repeatedly onto the blackened suitors. He shouts through his own aggrieved vocalizations while chopping the bodies until the steel of his weapon pangs against the stone. Hunter drops his sword, panting deeply until his breaths morph into weeping sobs. Stricken with shame for the lengths he went to eradicate evil from his own home, he questions now if he is still worthy of your love.

They rush to Hunter’s side when his composure declines. They console him, holding their brother as he continues to wail. They don’t say anything, unsure what could possibly be mentioned that would ease his afflictions. Hunter gradually calms himself, tranquilized by the presence of his brothers enough to speak.  

“These damned suitors… forced my hand.” Hunter looks at the smeared blotches on his palms, remnants of what’s left of the invaders that raided his home. “Do you think she will still recognize me?”

“None of this is your fault, Hunter.” Echo tells him, letting him know he was not alone in this slaughter. 

“You did this for her.” Wrecker corroborates Echo’s encouragement in hopes that Hunter will not chastise himself too harshly. “She will understand.”

“I guarantee she will care more about seeing you than the fate of those who plotted your demise.” Tech inputs his own indisputable claim.

“Come.” Crosshair stands before Hunter, offering to help his brother up. “We’ve kept her waiting long enough.”

They ascend the palace; each step Hunter takes causes the pit in his stomach to grow even deeper. Having only made it up half the stairway, he can hear the pitter-patter of another pair of shoes hitting stone. The darkness it’s coming from is mysterious, unsure if it is a spared suitor that managed to slip through the cracks or someone else entirely. They stand guard where they are, blocking the stairway as they brace for the arrival of this mystery person.

“Hunter?” The little voice calls from the shadows. She takes another step, her golden locks of hair shining like a feathered halo around her face when she enters their view. She’s dressed in white and adorned with gold jewelry he made for her himself, her innocence still strongly held intact.

“Omega?” Hunter’s voice catches in his throat. All the fortitude he’s been bracing himself with is confronted with a blessed reprieve in the form of seeing her face at long last.

“Hunter!” She disbands all ceremony, sprinting down the steps to reach him as fast as she can. 

“Omega!” Hunter reciprocates, skipping multiple stairs with widened leaps fueled by his persistent yearning. He braces for her impact as they meet each other head-on. Hunter picks Omega up to hold her even closer to his heart, the warmth of her tears falling on his shoulder. He cannot even begin to imagine how scared she must have been without him here. Wrecker can’t help himself, draping his arms around Omega and Hunter in an even larger embrace. Echo soon joins the hug with Tech urging Crosshair to do the same. They stay like this for a few beats to revel in the reunion before Omega starts squirming. 

“We have to show her that you’re back!” Omega then wriggles out of their hold, far too eager to endure another moment. “All of you!”

“Omega, wait just a second!” She begins tugging on Hunter’s arm, her other one making a hasty grab for Echo, alternating between the other brothers to follow along.

You hear a commotion coming from the stairway, worried that Omega hasn't arrived from the lavatory yet. You hear slight inflections of her voice, muted by the barrier of the door. The few paces it takes to reach it are traversed with great caution, not sure what you’re going to see when you turn that knob. Your hand hovers over it, unable to bring yourself to take the leap and twist it yourself, that is, until someone does it for you.

Hunter is first blinded by the radiant sunset coming from the open window overlooking the entire kingdom. His eyes haven’t adjusted from the many hours bathed in the shroud of his sin. When the picture becomes clear, he is greeted by the silhouette of an angel. The golden setting is a heavenly shift from the trail of carnage he’s left behind. In this short time, Hunter has been the arbiter of destruction he never knew he could be. The lives he’s ended weigh on his heart, regardless if they harbored evil souls or not. Just as the blood cannot wash out of threads he bears; he will carry these crimes for the remainder of his life. 

“Is it really you, my love?” You ask this man standing at the threshold. The pain in his expression creates a permanent exhaustion in his eyes. He’s not as full in the face as you remember him when he left, starved by his journey. His hair has grown a few inches longer, same with the scruffy beard now decorating his jaw. 

Hunter doesn’t know how to answer this. Physically, he is the same person, but he knows he cannot admit this to be true no matter how he tries to rationalize. “What if I said I wasn’t?”

“I don’t understand.” You back away from him, discouraged by his resistance to receive you. “Are you not my king?”

“I am not fit for the crown.” He bows his head, unable to look you in the eye. “I am not even fit for your heart anymore.”

“Now I know for certain you are not my king. Hunter wouldn’t dare say something so pathetic to me.” You answer his self-loathing with an aggression of your own, the words biting him with a burning venom that aches his very being. “You say this as if I do not have blood on my hands as well.”

“You bought me time.” Hunter keeps trying to absolve you, poking holes in your logic while causing his own to fumble. “That doesn’t count.”

“We’ve both killed in the name of preserving our love.” You admit to him, almost frustratingly. “You don’t get to tell me it was in all vain when I’ve been waiting this whole time. Now would you look at me? Please?” 

Hunter finally allows himself to lift his eyeline higher than the floor. He has braced front after turbulent front that threatens everything he built. He has already lost his moral compass once or twice, struggling not to sway in this particular fight for your affection. Hunter sees it in the way you look at him that it’s time to be more forgiving of himself. All the mistakes that paved his return, he needs to see the value in them as a lesson before shutting the vault on this chapter of his life permanently. Why regret the measures he took to get back to you? All the insecurity and contempt in the world won’t change what you mean to each other.

“I don’t care if we have to move mountains or turn continents to glass. You’re mine, Hunter. You always will be, and nothing has the power to alter that truth.” You reach for his face, sliding the palm of your hand against his unshaven cheek. His nostrils flare as he takes in a sharp breath, tears welling up as they come close to spilling over. “You’re one of the few good things in the world. Don’t let me lose you to this.”

“I love you.” He says with a twitch in his bottom lip, still trying to hold back the encumbering emotions that surge within. 

“And I love you more.” Your response, hearing you say those distinct words puts all his troubles to bed as he throws himself at you, cradling the back of your head with one hand as he lets the tears fall, his other arm circling around your waist. You pull away to examine Hunter’s lamenting appearance, steadying him before guiding his mouth to yours. 

This kiss spells out all the pain and heartbreak you and Hunter experienced. Your lips part, only for a wisp of air to enter your lungs in desperation before resuming again. Hunter’s hand moves up your neck, his thumb stroking your jawline as he memorizes the motions of your affection. You push and drag each other with this intimate dance, Hunter becoming powerfully magnetized to you. He begins to pepper your eyelashes with smooches, plants his kisses on your forehead and temples before being pulled right back to your lips. You can feel Hunter practically shoving his body against yours, almost integrating your souls so that they merge as one. More loving presses of his lips trail down your chin as he nestles his nose into your neck, savoring your floral scent when the bitter aroma of iron and smoke diminishes. It’s been too long since you’ve felt Hunter’s embrace, adhering yourself to him like he is susceptible to floating away. Visions flash in your minds of the hardships faced in each other’s absence, fading away and being replaced by a new beginning. The others silently watch this blissful reunion, touched by your ability to come together even stronger once all adversity in the kingdom has been obliterated.

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Taglist: @captxin-rex @gospelofme @fangirl-goes-nova @romanoffs-gf @sstarwarsss @r2d2staser @nahoney22 @ashotofspotchka @eclec-tech @art-of-the-twistedstitcher @only-a-simp-deals-in-absolutes @justalittletomato @twiggoblin @xsherryberryx @kriffclone @sweetminx @deewithani @tinker-tech @megafrost4 @freesia-writes @boontaeveboba @ahoeformando @arctrooper69 @taz-107 @lizzowinkyface @chad-something @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @merkitty49 @nonsenseandm3mes @id-rather-be-a-druid @storm89 @techs-stitches @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @succulent-momma @virtualexpertanchor @padawancat97 @hurtbywhisperedmuses @misogirl828 @seriowan @plushymiku-blog @the-dathomirian-jedi @ladykatakuri @mysticalgalaxysalad @talesfrommedinastation @dukeoftheblackstar @littlecrowtime

Meet me! 🩵🤍

Perfectly bitten mochi. That’s all.

Look at this Poster!!

Moments I want to highlight 🔽

OBI-WAN’S HAND ON CODY!!! CODYWAN😭🙌❤️

Hunter’s smile🥹🥰 (Watch out behind you👀)

Omega and Wrecker!!🥹🥹 PADAME AND ANAKIN🥹

TECH😂😂🙌 He always be yapping and being an IPad kid😂🙌

Echo’s little wave!🥹 Ahsoka front and center Queen!

CROSSHAIR😂🥰 He is literally one of the few not looking at the camera😂 He is not beating the grumpy allegations at all

Some honorable mentions are Rex, Mayday (so close to Crosshair🥺) and Hozwer🥰

I love oldie movies so I had to make Robin in this 🩵

Robin as Esther

Meet me in Saint Louis ~1944

Just a small sneak peak of an Omega fan art, The Bad Batch X Spy x Family AU!

At a wedding at the beach so I had to take a picture of this🤍🩵

I’ll use it sometime :D

⋆˚✿˖° Captain Rex + flora ~ dividers ♥︎

Please like, reblog & credit if you use them!

My first attempt at a glass painting, total failure! 🙈

But I made a quote for this :D

“They can cage me up in iron or bronze, shut my voice from an earshot, but I know I’ll find a way out my cage and spread my wings to fly once more…”