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conquerthroughfear · 2 months ago

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Amara "Ironmonger"

Naomi Scott / she/her ——— no way is that Amara "Ironmonger". they’re a 21-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being VICIOUS & UNFORGIVING but there are some people who have seen them being BRAVE & SELFLESS. if you ask me, they remind me a lot of CRIMINALS HANGING FROM MEATHOOKS, A WEAPON FORGED IN THE HELLFIRE OF WAR, THE SCRAPING OF METAL OVER METAL, THE CIGARETTE BURNING YOUR LUNGS TO REMIND YOU YOU ARE ALIVE, BARBIE SKIN WRAPPED AROUND A WALKING TANK, but that could just be because they’re considered the VIGILANTE around town. just keep an eye on them & see if their true colors shine through.. / J., 24, he/they, CET (GMT+1)

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TLDR: A runaway project of Vanguard Security, ironically designed to take out defective fellow "prototypes", now working as a mercenary and vicious vigilante. Deeply troubled, cares a lot about others but nothing about herself.

KEYWORDS: Fearless. Vicious. Intimidating. Confident. Headstrong. Self-destructive. Tough. Paranoid. Sardonic. Practical. Selfless. Self-destructive. Harsh. Unforgiving.

//. NAME: Amara. She did away with her last name a long time ago.

//. MONIKERS: Ironmonger, Iron.

//. HUMAN: But more machine than flesh at this point.

//. APPEARANCE: Tall and strong, standing at 6'2"/1.87m with a muscular built. Tanned skin that's uncannily smooth and unblemished. Deep brown eyes that usually carry a bored expression, and do little to hide the inner workings of her mind. Short, brown hair that's so dark it usually appears black, worn in a mane to just above her shoulders. Carries herself with aggression and bravado, marching into any room as if she owns the place. Known for her trademark grin, and to never smile.

//. ORIENTATION: Bisexual biromantic, strong femme preference.

//. OCCUPATION: Enforcer for the Violet Messengers, mercenary. Spends most of her days making worse people's lives living hell.

//. ENHANCEMENTS: A ridiculous amount of combat implants, geared towards heavy weaponry, close quarters combat and, most notably, taking down others just as 'borged out as her. A walking tank, but wrapped in synth-skin that leaves her unable to scar. For a detailed list, see: TBA.

//. PERSONALITY: Broken by the wheel of abuse during her training as a living weapon, Amara has, in her own words, no humanity or goodness left. In reality, there's a noble spirit buried deep down under years of both receiving and inflicting violence. She will jump to protect those in need without a second thought for her own safety. She cares for others deeply and sincerely, but will push away anyone getting too close. On the one hand she fears she'll hurt them, on the other she simply doesn't believe she's worth liking, let alone loving. Instead she tries to find her comfort in what money can buy: booze, drugs, and sex. Her years of being forced to kill and somehow cope have left Ironmonger with an addiction to violence. One she's all too happy to indulge in whenever she gets her hands on criminals targeting the innocent, the corporats who form the pillars of the hellscape we live in, and any other twisted motherfucker unlucky enough to cross her path.

//. STRENGTHS, SKILLS & ABILITIES: everything you'd expect from someone who's essentially designed from the bottom-up to be a super soldier; killing and hurting others in all manners known to humankind. Specializes in close quarters combat. Has a knack for intimidation, interrogation, and everything else having to do with instilling fear. Was quick to adapt her former skillset to streetwise applications. Struggles with reading, but can look at a map once and know the directions by heart.

//. OTHER: Her actual weight is much higher than even her athletic frame would suggest, due to the amount of implants installed within her. This causes her footsteps to be remarkably loud when she's not making an effort to be quiet. She has no idea how to handle children and is mostly annoyed by them, but she has a soft spot for most animals. Cats especially are sure to draw her attention, and felines tend to be one of few living beings not fearful of her presence.

"Touch me again and you lose the hand."

//. Background (TW for mentions of violence, coercion, murder, human experimentation, and child abuse.)

The problem with human meat is that, once someone's all grown up, you can only replace so much of it with cybernetics. Before long someone will lose touch with their body so badly they never recover from it, or the body simply starts treating whatever new you put in as a foreign object. A child could provide a solution, but that's off-limits. Deemed inacceptable by the law.

But that was a risk Vanguard Security's R&D department, and their off-the-book & under-the-table sponsors from DrakeTech and Epsilon Labs, were willing to take.

One might think a custom-made synth would offer a better solution. But somehow in the 22nd century, where meat is cheap and morals are cheaper, it was less risky to kidnap a child than to manufacture a synth that didn't hold up to code.

So it happened that Amara's home was invaded when she was just eight years old. So it happened that a strange man was waiting for her in her room when she went to hide. So it happened that when she was offered her family's safety in return for her servitude, in return for her to help him help save others, she thought of the man as her savior.

Fuck had she been wrong.

The man, who called himself "Ruyxil" like some demon of old, was cruel, and subject to a twisted obsession in Amara's progress into the perfect killing machine. Amara, a young girl with no heart for violence, didn't live up to anyone's expectations at first. Knowing what was at stake if she couldn't please them, couldn't be what they wanted her to be, she kept pushing, and she kept training.

By the time she was sent on missions to hunt down Vanguard Security's "traitors", little of the person she once was remained. And she'd gotten horrifyingly good at everything they'd taught her. As only a teenager, she'd been redesigned from the bottom-up to take down even the most borged-out of their former ranks. She earned the moniker Conqueror for her vicious tactics and pristine record. Life didn't become any better for it.

Eventually, Conqueror was sent on missions abroad. Eventually, she was sent somewhere near her hometown. Though she knew it'd be a death sentence for her family if she got caught, she couldn't pass up on the opportunity, if only to just lay eyes on them after all those years.

It turned out they were dead.

So she did the only logical thing - fake her own death. If she ran and they thought she were still alive, she'd be hunted down like a rabid dog. She left them her armor and a bloody trail to lead them to believe scavengers had picked her cyberware apart. She knew some efforts to search for her would be made, but nothing too much. Projected costs could never exceed expected results, after all.

Conqueror cursed her own name farewell, and took up the new title of Ironmonger. Something some back-ally ripperdoc had called her upon seeing all the chrome she was packing. Returning to Dallas-Fort Worth, she hid amongst the criminal underworld. They might not be actively looking for her, that didn't mean she couldn't still be picked up by their ever-present security and surveillance systems.

She started going on a violent crusade against the corporation that'd taken everything from her and every other motherfucker who was unlucky enough to both cross her path and deserve it.

#cyberplexintro #tw: death #tw: abuse

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nothfeatherfinger · 11 months ago

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I’m doing these for Noth as a sort of introduction to the character…

Morning Star - What was the first thing you gave your OC? Name, backstory, design, etc The first thing that I gave him was his freakishly tall height. Growing up as a male in a Bosmer society and being a tall is weird and it only makes him feel more conspicuously Altmerish and his height and that self consciousness about it was the first thing I conceptualized about him.

Sun's Dawn - Does your OC have a love interest? What is their relationship like? Not at present. It's a touchy subject for him.

First Seed - Does your OC have any enemies or rivals? How did these rivalries start? The Thalmor, which started when they uh, arrested him in Valenwood and then shipped him off to BFE Haafingaar to get tortured for months. There's also the rival Bosmeri tribe who warred with the one he had settled with and killed members of his found family, but those are behind him now.

Rain's Hand - Can your OC use magic? If so what Schools? He’s got a little bit of innate destruction magic in there courtesy of his Altmer father, but it really only explodes out of him when he really loses his temper. Which isn't often. If he focused and trained it up, it could probably be useful, but since he associates it with his father, he has no interest really in doing that.

Second Seed - Is your OC an alchemist? What do they excel at making? Ironically considering he's a Bosmer, he does like dabbling in alchemy. But he only uses ingredients that would be pact approved, so like... butterfly wings, bear claws, stuff like that. It's actually a fun challenge crafting potions using ingredients that aren't flowers or flora. He's not a master or anything, but he'll nosh and blend when he's got some free time.

Mid Year - Does your OC have a favourite celebration? Do they celebrate holidays? Noth enjoys a good wedding since weddings are always a good time in Bosmeri culture. He's also a fan of the Jester's Festival -- one, because people are taking the piss out of rulers and that's always amusing to him. And two, since it's generally a bit chaotic and it's a good time to make some money the good old fashioned way -- by stealing it off of people.

Sun's Height - What is your OC's favourite shop, in any of the games; what do they buy the most of? Unpopular opinion, but Noth actually likes Belethor, the little sleazebag. He wants to enjoy the Drunken Huntsman because Gore is right, there's no bard! Alas, Elrindir will not shut up about a fellow Bosmer being in the store, so it's probably a good thing he fletches his own bone arrows. Anyway, he also likes Bothela in Markarth -- mostly because, again, she takes the piss out of the jarl's steward by ratting out his ED. And he likes Keerava in the Bee and Barb. He just respects her brusqueness. As for who he buys the most off of, it's honestly the khajiit. It's a familiarity thing for him, having spent so much time in Reaper's March. Plus, they usually have better variety.

Last Seed - What weapon does your OC use? Who taught them how to use it? Like any self-respecting Bosmer, he's a bow man. He keeps a hunting knife at his hip for skinning and butchering kills, but for taking down enemies, it's his bow. Combat ranger 4 lyfe. His mom was his primary teacher, but he also picked up techniques from tribal Bosmer he met during his travels through Valenwood after she died.

Hearthfire - Does your OC have a family (blood or found)? Who are they closest to? No blood family left to speak of. Mom was killed in the line of duty, and his Thalmor father is also dead, to his knowledge. Unusually for a Bosmer, he never had any siblings. He does have some Khajiiti found family in Reaper's March that he spent a lot of time with as a child, and a tribe of Bosmer deep in the Valenwood that he grew close to and spent a significant amount of time with. He can't return to them though, so really those Khajiit in Reaper's March are it for him.

Frost Fall - Where is your OC's primary residence? What city is there favourite? He doesn't have one. He prefers camping around Lake Ilinalta though. Lots of game in the woods, a lake full of fish, fresh water for bathing and drinking. As for favorite cities, Falkreath and Riften for the trees and the warmth, and Dawnstar for the sunrises and sunsets.

Sun's Dusk - Is your OC religious? If so, who do they follow? More so in his adult life than he was in his youth. He adheres more staunchly to the Green Pact now having spent time with the native deepwood Bosmer tribe he more or less joined after his mother was killed and he set out on his own. He's a follower of Y'ffre, but there's also a little bit of Trinimac/Malacath in there for the vengeance aspect.

Evening Star - When is your OC's birthday? 12th of Second Seed, 4E 162.

Elder Scrolls Month Asks

Here are some months themed asks for your OCs :)

Morning Star - What was the first thing you gave your OC? Name, backstory, design, etc

Sun's Dawn - Does your OC have a love interest? What is their relationship like?

First Seed - Does your OC have any enemies or rivals? How did these rivalries start?

Rain's Hand - Can your OC use magic? If so what Schools?

Second Seed - Is your OC an alchemist? What do they excel at making?

Mid Year - Does your OC have a favourite celebration? Do they celebrate holidays?

Sun's Height - What is your OC's favourite shop, in any of the games; what do they buy the most of?

Last Seed - What weapon does your OC use? Who taught them how to use it?

Hearthfire - Does your OC have a family (blood or found)? Who are they closest to?

Frost Fall - Where is your OC's primary residence? What city is there favourite?

Sun's Dusk - Is your OC religious? If so, who do they follow?

Evening Star - When is your OC's birthday?

#tesblr #skyrim oc #bosmer oc #nothirvir 'noth' featherfinger

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iceling4ever · 2 years ago

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Yesterday evening I realized that emotional pain is equally as detrimental to the body as physical pain. I have never in my life experience the kind of stress induced emotional heart response pain as I did last night. My whole body started to be in shock mode. Leading to high blood pressure, a pounding headache, heart palpitations, muscle spasms in my calf, stroke like symptoms in my brain, neck and heart. I felt sick to my stomach, couldn’t breathe for a good half hour. Felt nauseous, hungry, feeling of wanting to vomit but can’t. Head was shaking in pain with nerves expanding and contracting. Heart was slowly started pounding and beating abnormally. It was the closest I had to going into cardiac shock. Outwardly, I was on my knees and crying a storm - in agony and pain. Inwardly, I was feeling what I just describe above.

Already exhausted from a lack of sleep from the week. A long day at work, sadness in my mind/ heart and yet I had to come home to a broken home where my dad was screaming and fighting with my mom over lack of helping my mom with household duties because he is too busy enjoying his life going to the elderly center while my mom is alone at home taking care of the family responsibilities- helping me take care of Kayla. Helping my sis take care of Andrew, in charge of household cooking and cleaning, buying groceries and on top of that being exhausted and in pain physical from her many ailments in her body due to Years of overworking and abuse to her body. I appreciate everything my mom has done for me, she has helped me a lot with my daughter. Looking after her while I am working. My daughter is a handful and being in her 70s it’s a challenge for mom. Especially with her neck surgery and pains related to that amongst other things. I know her personality is one that needs everything done and tidy in the house. A trait that I think I picked up from her. As I am that way in my own house. But she is also a type A personality. A person that has no patience and wants everything done now now… I am a type B personality where everything can wait a little with some type A. My husband unfortunately is all type B where it gets to the point that it really affects me deeply. His laziness has no bound. He is always tired even when he sleeps 10+ hours or who is mostly never sober and always either is drunk, feels and acts drunk (from what he claims is exhaustion) or he is puking and vomiting and dizzy. Never a moment where I find him “normal” and that to me is just unacceptable in any culture. He needs to understand he needs to fix himself up. Whether that be going to professional alcoholic rehabiliation or getting treatment. I can’t see myself in a family with him and our daughter if he continues down this path of self destruction. With his current state he can’t help me with Kayla. He can barely help himself. The worse is what is his mom doing to help or control her son. Taking away his money, credit card and driver license. How the fuck does that help?! So stupid! Put him through rehab damn it. Forcing him to work his job and pay for the house mortgage, credit card bills, and his other sibling bills and mother’s bills ?? How is this helping him. My God, the fact that he hasn’t loss his mind in that type of environment and abuse is beyond me. But yet again, maybe this is how he copes with this maternal abuse by abusing himself with alcohol and sleeping to avoid his life problems. The war in Russia and the death of his maternal grandma and death of his father doesn’t seem to help his psyche either. Not to mention his many years of childhood PTSD from having a weapon put to his throat or being hit and abuse growing up for not being an obedient kid. I am sure we each has been through some type of abuse.

I know I had. Last night’s body reaction is to that abuse - getting yelled at by my father for not doing more to take care of my daughter and that he should be allow to live his life and enjoy the elderly center and that my mom shouldn’t have to work so hard to raise my child that it’s my husband and my responsibility to watch our child. As mom was complaining to dad to help out more instead of going to the elderly center 7 days a week and avoiding all family obligations and responsibilities as mom is exhausted and tired and her body is breaking down. I know exactly how my mom feels. Not until I became a mom did I understand the implications of how much pain, suffering and sacrifices, mothers make and how fuckin little fathers and men do to help. Not saying there aren’t any good men or dads but very rare. Most are as selfish as they come. Doing the most minimal. They think just because they work and earn money it’s enough. Even my dad, growing up he did nothing for us. He just went to work everyday and earn money. Mom did that and on top of that cook, clean and raised us as best as she could. Dad didn’t bat an eye. He felt he already did enough by giving us a roof over our head. Barely interacting with us. I am on this app, call Peanut, and I see through other women’s eyes, mostly all men are the same. Not maternal, not loving and do the most minimal and complains they are tired and doing too much. Sometimes I think it’s better to just be single and don’t have to put up with this shit!

But I digress… I can swear to God, I have already put in my 200% effort into my daughter, into this family I created, into myself and into my job and my apartment. My body is breaking down. I don’t know how much more I can do. I am just one person. I am dying and breaking down. My body reaction is telling me, I am dying. Every day I don’t get enough sleep. I barely have time to sleep, eat, shower. Some weeks I would go days without showering or washing my hair. I am just too tired and exhausted after putting my daughter to sleep to go do it. I am passing out. And the many task I need to do on my phone or bills I need to pay or whatever task I need to do gets push to the back burner and when I find a moment in the night after my daughter is put to sleep I actually get to do whatever task it is. And then my dad see me on the phone doing those tasks and he assumes I am fooling around on my phone and not sleeping. His judgment without context is too harsh. Meanwhile he is always on his phone texting and trying to impress this one elderly man at the elderly center. That man around the same again as what his father would had been. I think he still trying to seek that approval and love from his own father that he never got. That’s why he likes that man so much and feels he needs to get his approval or favoritism. Being the youngest child in his family of 5 siblings and without his mom at the age of 10, it must had been really tough for him. I don’t know. My mom being the oldest child of 5 siblings must had been difficult for her life too. Because of all she had to erase from her life - the hiding of her pregnancy from the government due to the one child policy, the sneaking around without any help from her husband because he was gone working in another region of the country. The abuse and hardship she endured. The tears she shed, no one would ever understand. The pain of losing her child. The pain of persecution. The abuse from family and neighbors and outsiders because she had to raise three kids by herself. Only she would understand how I feel. And maybe because of this she feels this need to help me. She doesn’t want me to endure and suffer the same fate and hardships. And yet it seems fate is cruel and unforgiving that I also must suffer similar fates.

It all comes out, the “fight/argument “ is over many things but at the top is that mom is doing too much and I am doing not enough and my dad doesn’t want to do anything cause he feels is not his responsibility. Dad makes a good point that he should be allow to enjoy the remainder of his life and my mom should too. And whatever help they give me is out of the goodness of their heart. They are right. But at the same token I am already bending forward and backwards. I am working a full time job, I am managing too households - my apartment and my parents place, I am putting my daughter to sleep at night and I am stressed at work and in my personal life. Each day at work I am exhausted yet forcing myself to work hard and get work done because I am one of the slower workers and so much work to do. In my apartment I am the only one cleaning, tidying and putting things inside (packages), paying the mortgage, bills, maintenance. In my personal life my health is shit. I am always in pain, my weight has skyrocketed from the stress and hormonal imbalance and everywhere literally hurts. Then my husband is a loser and doesn’t help me with anything. He thinks the small measly child support money is doing a lot. Which it isn’t. Every few days after work I need to drop off things to my apartment or I need to go do errands and tasks such as buy Kayla groceries or diapers/wipes or whatever it might be. I never had a moment to breathe and yet everyone thinks I have so much free time and doing so much “fun stuff”. I still owe a big money debt to my ex-boyfriend which is an unfortunate life lesson for being tricked, robbed from an online lover whom was deceitful as fuck. He probably isn’t even just one person but maybe a group of people pretending to be one person and using someone else’s photos. It was horrible he used God to deceive and trick me. And he used my own burden and pain to trick me. It was just a mess. But that’s a whole other story. I know in my own heart and God knows I have done over my limits with my daughter and with keeping my family afloat. It’s difficult when you are a single mother.

Next you ask, then why don’t you let your mother in law (Kayla paternal mother or family) help you. Well, she could barely take care of herself and her own kids. Her son (my husband) has an addiction problem alcohol, vape and cigarettes. And what she do for him? She enables him. Then her younger daughter has PTSD, psychosis and mental health issues amongst emotional damage from her emotional/mental abuse growing up among other problems. Her younger son who seems okay is only okay because he avoids her and doesn’t do much interaction with MIL and does his own thing. Now she already has her hands full. On top of that she also likes to abuse alcohol and wine and is promiscuous with men and has abusive tendencies in the men she chooses in her life. Has expensive lifestyle and taste and the men she sleeps with are abusive in one form or another. Why would I want my daughter around this type of influence and danger. Also when I was pregnant she never trusted me. She thinks I am hiding everything and to be honest, if her son didn’t love me, she had her hand in the relationships and kick me out a long time ago as just her son’s casual fuck and companion of the week. But because her son fell in love with me and refuse to leave me regardless of how hard I tried to push him away, she has no choice but accept the status quo. I know she probably loves her kids like all mothers do, but her control and approach for each and all her kids is messed up and wrong. Because she is my elder, I won’t tell her off but I also don’t see her as a fit person to look after my daughter. The only Person in this world I truly trust is my mom.

Growing up being a girl was very rough. I was sexually abused by my extended family members and family member friend at different moments in my childhood. Not at the same time but different times. These people know who they are! And that shame will linger with them for the rest of their lives I am sure. I don’t need to call out who they are. I am sure they know as they were older than me when it all happened. Because of this I don’t trust anyone! I especially don’t trust anyone with my daughter. That’s also why I don’t want anyone looking after my daughter but my mom. And my MIL house has too many people there. Too many suspicious men. As for my apartment, I don’t want anyone here but me and my daughter. I don’t trust anyone to be frank. When I knew I was carrying a daughter I was so frightful. Afraid that she would grow up with sexual abuse, afraid that she might get my PCOS, endometriosis or other health issues. I fear it all. I would be less scared with a son. In this society women always get abused in one form or another. It’s crazy! Growing up I was always more mature than my age, having curves with big boobs and butt, also had inappropriate men attention. Attention that I did not want. I was cute and attractive that was also a problem. My daughter is cute and most likely will turn out attractive. That’s why I worry for her in this world. Her father is oblivious to all this because he is one of those men that thinks Sex at a young age is okay and that women should be allow to date, kiss and explore. Is he nuts?! 🤦🏻‍♀️ I guess that’s the European side of him. I am not as forward thinking. I think there should be boundaries and that’s why I love Christianity and God. Because it provides Guidelines and boundaries!

My head still hurts as I write all this. But I write it to get my message across, I might die the next day who knows. My body is breaking down. I thought last night I might had a stroke and died. That’s how bad my body reaction to my dad was. I know with my full heart that I am doing the best I can. I can’t do any more than what I have already done for my family and for the family I have created. I only ask my other family members, my sister, BIL, father, bro and grandma to help out my mom as much and as best as possible. I know my mom’s personality, helping out just means they need to do their own part and help themselves and don’t give extra work to mom. Clean up after themselves, look after their own things and in occasion help look after Kayla while mom is doing a task. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for. But maybe to them they think it’s a lot to ask for. I only wish they understand how difficult life has been for mom and me. Having similar illnesses as my mother I know very well how she feels and I think she knows how I feel. And for that reason I feel she pities me and helps me as much as she can. I appreciate her help and never take it for granted.

In my life, I have predicted that I won’t live past 50 years old. I hope I am wrong. I hope my past recurrent dreams are wrong as well. I would really like to see my daughter be a grown-up and married before I leave this world. In the past before the existence of my daughter I always questioned why I was allow to live and why I was still alive. I had severe mental depressions as a child due to the sexual abuse, mental and physical abuse and the pressures and stress from parents to be smart and perfect. Something I will never be - smart nor perfect. I am flawed in every way and so broken inside beyond repair. At 15, I tried to commit suicide and contemplated that this was it, time to go… just to have missionaries from my current church come knock on my parents door and saved me and converted me to Christianity. The elder at the time Elderly P told me he had a dream that someone needed saving around my neighborhood. God is good! So started my relationship with God at 15. But each moment throughout my life I have been tested over and over again … nothing ever good … so when others say they know how difficult life is and they understand. until you walk a mile in my shoes, you don’t know SHIT. Don’t judge what you don’t understand.

My health issues is another story - having a small brain tumor, having pressure palsy, numbness in both hands, fingers and arms, PCOS , painful menstruation, inability to hold my bladder urine, possible endometriosis, pain on my right side quadrant. Bone pain with my neck, spine, lower back, compressed nerves. Pain with in my feet, toes, knee when I walk. My whole body is breaking down … obesity, hormonal imbalance, metabolic syndrome, slow metabolism - you name it, I got it …

When will life get better? Will it ever get better ? What is my life purpose. Why did my mom keep me while my second sis is dead. The guilt of losing second is probably the reason to keep me. What mom doesn’t love their child. Especially they carry it for 9 months. Being a mom is not easy… it’s one of the hardest Jobs in the world and not always the most rewarding. I love my daughter and would die protecting my daughter. I don’t want her to suffer the same fate as me. I want her to grow up carefree and blessed and happy - I need her to know her mom loves her very much. Just as I know my mom loves me even though my mom doesn’t know how to express that emotion in words. But her physical actions show. Growing up I was most happy when I was sick, because it meant that mom had to be home to take care of me, feed me, give me medication and look after me and physically just be there. Sometimes when I was younger I would wish I would get sick or ill with a cold or whatever just to get mom’s love and attention. Crazy huh? My daughter don’t need to wish for that. I will make sure to provide her with the love, attention, praise she seeks. It’s so important in a child’s development and mindset to have this feeling that she/he is loved. I, for one, know that better than any one else.

4/28/23

(Written 4/29/23)

#just ranting #iceling4ever #personal rant #life as we know it

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salvagedsouls · 2 years ago

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The Death of Freyja

warnings for the following: murder & genocide, victim blaming, abuse, child abuse, slavery, war, child marriage, domestic abuse please take care of yourself first. this background has heavily mature content, triggering content, and may be intense. it will be placed under a readmore for initial posting but the post will eventually be made fully visible to the dash later on. if you do not want to read the actual content but would still like a summary, please let me know and i’ll figure out a more sfw/friendly-ish way to explain without going into detail. please please message me if additional warnings or tags are needed. DO NOT REBLOG.

Freyja is a child, one of the younger ones in Vanaheim. She’s raised intensely tied to the magic of her people and their realm, learning quickly and adapting quite naturally even for those close to her age, and her skill develops fast. Once it’s safe and not unwieldy she begins training with weapons as well, finding a particular taste for daggers and curved short blades that match both her speed and are easy to tie with her magic. Her parents, her people, are proud of Freyja for being so powerful without abandoning her own self. She knew that expectations began to rise that she would be able to lead one day, if she truly wanted to.

But she’s still a child when the war happens. Old enough to know the dangers if her people lose but too young to be considered part of the fight. She sees friends give their all to try power defenses and buy time, sees family fall to an army that seems to never end. Sees her world burn as the Aesir chase Vanir out of places good for ambushes, and then driven away from temples that are dismantled and destroyed. The circle that closes around them proves to be a noose, the Aesir army choking off her people and cutting down those she used to be sure could never fall to anything but perhaps age. All for gold, for conquering, and she’s sure it’s because they had discovered they could so they did. The Aesir didn’t seem to care what the costs for everything else would be.

Freyja is part of the group of children that are rounded up and captured, a rather final way of making the adults that are left to surrender. She kicks and screams with an unforgiving hand holding so tight to her hair that some is certainly torn out, her feet barely touching the ground. She feels sick when she sees the way the Aesir leader looks at her, can feel the way her magic tries to protect her from the gaze and the way it breaks when her parents are swiftly deposed right in front of her. Odin there calculating and indifferent as the leather of her clothing soaks in the blood now covering her.

He’s the one who says taking a bride would end the war.

Again with the gaze, and he doesn’t seem to notice or care about the tears down her face, though he barks out an order when her brother moves to try protecting her like their parents had wanted to. Only then does Freyja’s voice find words that aren’t half-nonsensical curses, desperate to protect her people. Herself for her people wasn’t so bad a trade after all, was it? She could stop the murdering, the destruction, all of it. Could save their world from a complete wipeout, give the rest a fighting chance to recover. She could protect everyone left; she knew what he wanted, of course.

She could save her people.

Freyja pretends not to hear her brother’s protests or angry oaths, offering herself on the singular condition that the rest of the Vanir, the rest of the realm, be spared. Part of their magic is their word, so if he accepts there’s no running. She knows he knows, can see the way Odin considers very carefully, but still there’s some note of victory when he nods and holds his hand out to her. Expectant. Demanding. The last thing she ever does as a free girl is give an apologetic look to her brother, keeping her eye on him until the pair of them have walked too far for her to still see him. All she can think after that is how small her hand feels in the Asgardian’s, how many steps she has to take just to keep up with him. How her entire being cries out when her feet leave the ground of their realm for the final time and she can feel the pain of the forest at losing another daughter. The king doesn’t even let her see Vanaheim fade into the distance as he takes his leave.

Mere hours later Freyja has been scrubbed clean and dressed in fineries she’s never seen the like of before, in materials she’s never touched in the past. All she had been wearing before is taken away and she never sees it again, assuming it is all destroyed. The few tattoos she already had are covered up by first some sort of concealing make-up and then again with glamours she can’t undo herself, every braid undone and every bead removed. By the time she sees her reflection there’s no recognition of the girl staring back. She looks Aesir, she realizes miserably, and feels hollow inside. She never wants to look at a mirror again.

Is this what it feels like to die?

Freyja looks Asgardian for the wedding, for the horrid ceremony she’d already bound herself to go through because of her word. She can feel herself choking inside as each vow ties her very being to Odin and his control, shrinking her magic to be contained in some tiny, controllable, disposable box. Then he calls her by a new name and every fiber of her being both wants to tear away in disgust and come closer in obedience. He waits until the seal is nearly complete, tying her to this foreign name in this foreign world and to a foreign people while erasing the last connection she was going to cling to Vanaheim with.

He calls her Frigga. He calls her his. She wants nothing more than to cut his head off.

But it's too late. Vows have done it, magic has worked its power, and he was now her husband and king. Her ruler, her controller. Her abuser. The taste that thought leaves in her mouth is bitterer than any poison could be, yet there is now nothing to do but obey her newest duties. She is now a queen by title, but he has clipped her wings of freedom, put her into what amounts to a gilded cage. A cage gilded in stolen gold and the blood of her people. There would never be any escape for her unless he dies, which the Aesir do not do according to the same laws of living that mortal beings do. Her first full night in Asgard is spent lying awake silently crying and full of pain, sure this is what death feels like. But she’d protected her people.

So she thinks until the next morning.

Some high-ranking soldier came to the king with news of a bloodied realm and a handful of leftover living Vanir who had been threatened into submission, waiting to be dealt with as he wanted. She wants to scream and fight, to declare Odin bound by their vows the same way she is, but nothing more happens than a trembling lower lip. He’d stripped her of innocence, of power, of voice. He’d made her a husk that her own people weren’t going to recognise after less than a day apart.

He had killed Freyja and buried her in Frigga the Queen.

The Allmother, companion to his being Allfather. Proof he had defeated Vanaheim and taken what he wanted, evidence she would never again trust him even if she couldn’t act against him. Queens don’t cry in front of slaves, and though her broken heart tries to reach out to what remains of her people, even her brother doesn’t recognise her as she stands in front of them. Then he’s bound from ever seeing her again so long as Odin reigns, and it’s only as he’s being dragged away that horror strikes in seeing what the Aesir did to his baby sister, only as he vanishes from sight for the final time with the scream of a dead girl’s name that Frigga drops her gaze. No one else of the survivors dares to speak toward her again, even though Odin lets them live. She doesn’t look to see who he wants to keep like they’re some sort of collector’s item rather than people, and she doesn’t look when the remaining are exiled and escorted from the palace.

Instead of saving her people, she had broken them. Their realm was broken, forest crying out loud enough she swears she can hear it for weeks before silence arrives once more. All because she believed that everyone was bound by the oaths they make. All because Odin wanted glittering decoration and a bride who couldn’t fight back.

#genocide tw #child abuse tw #child marriage tw #domestic abuse tw #slavery tw #war tw #[ im sorry this is so sad :c #she has many Sad hcs ]#( an assembled anthology | headcanons )#( hurricane of power | hc | frigga )

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anchovies-4-dinner · 2 years ago

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Tough Love | Yan! Diluc

What if: Diluc doesn’t appreciate your self-destructive tendencies. Luckily for you he doesn't plan on staying idle.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: my own incorrect interpretation of Fontaine, long post, unintentional self harm

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There were no family portraits in the Dawn Winery.

Diluc never had a special interest in art, hanging only the collections his father had passed down after his untimely death. It was a shame that was one of the only things his son hadn’t inherited. It was even more a shame he couldn’t appreciate his spouse’s hobby either.

Yes, your pieces really were magnificent displayed in his home but more often than not he’d give them a single passing glance. He never told you this, preferring to see your dazzling smile when you gifted him your work.

Despite this indifference he would take offence to any insult to your work as if it were directed towards himself; his signature unimpressed look was enough to silence them. He always had faith in your brilliance ever since you drew your first crude picture, so it came as no surprise when you were invited to an exhibition in Fontaine.

In your enthusiasm Diluc had been feeling apprehensive of you leaving so far from Mondstadt. As bright as you were your strengths absolutely did not include self defence nor did you carry any weapons, at least when you were with him. It both flattered and irked him that you laid so much faith in his abilities but as proven before he alone isn’t enough to guarantee your absolute safety.

As shameful as it was he felt relief when news surfaced of Fontaine’s heavy corruption, thinking you would reject the offer, but it soon turned into perplex when you still insisted on going.

‘Too big of an opportunity’ you had said, which was how Diluc found himself on a carriage destined for said corrupted country. He couldn’t help but rub his face when you excitedly peered out to to view the foreign walls and massive structures. On the way to your hotel you received many stares due to your foreign attire; although he’d long grown accustomed to being ogled at he couldn’t help growing hot underneath his collar and you much the same (without the ogled part).

Diluc clutched the suitcases tighter as he shoved through the crowded streets (why did the hotel have to be smack dab in the heart of the city?), occasionally glancing back to make sure you didn’t get whisked away. Every time your shoulder looked to be yanked or your knees on the verge of buckling he grew tense, nevertheless you thankfully arrived at the glamorous doors without a hiccup.

Even the richest man in Mondstadt couldn’t help but admire the interior, though he did question the safety of the uncovered gears peppering its walls and ceiling. Hopefully they were just decoration.

“Welcome to Joyau Doré, how may I help you?”

When you bounded up to the receptionist Diluc set down the bags and surveyed the area for any other health hazards - a shocking lack of fire extinguishers, a hidden escape door sign behind the toilets, he wouldn’t be surprised if your bed was just two singles pushed together. Unless he saw the rooms for himself he wouldn’t voice his complaints... yet.

...

“Haa, this bed is so much more comfortable than the ones at ours, am I still sinking? Cause it feels like it.”

Diluc rolled his eyes at your teasing, “If you have any complaints I’ve more than enough money to burn, I could lend you those ‘solid’ beds and buy myself some softer ones.”

He ignored your squawk in favour of scouting out the room, examining corners of the bathroom and behind the desks. It was a habit he developed during his massacre in Snezhnaya which saved his life multiple times, but unfortunately you didn’t share his sentiment.

“Cmon we just arrived and you’re already tearing the place apart? You haven’t even seen the knife in the drawer yet!”

In an instant Diluc was up and making a beeline towards you who was holding the knife so wrong and hazardously. He reached for the tool but you hid it behind your back, instead offering a card that came with it. Diluc squinted:

‘Many blessings on your visit. Please take this precaution lest you encounter hostiles.’

‘Enjoy your stay!’

Diluc almost burned the card; he knew it was too dangerous coming here, why don’t you ever listen to him?

To his aggravation you merely slotted the knife in the leg holster they provided and started unpacking; you had around a month and a half to procure three magnificent paintings in this new, extraordinary city. You needed to start as quick as possible!

...

Before the exhibition you would stay strictly for business. Afterwards you would take your time admiring the city’s wonders.

No doubt other artists would use popular landmarks as the subjects of their paintings, so you wanted to go for something different in order to stand out. Due to this you referred to the list your friend from Fontaine had given you once - ‘These underrated spots are a must when visiting!’. She didn’t disappoint, because when you ducked under the low hanging branches to a secluded lake your jaw met the ground.

It was a more natural view with less clutter, yet it embraced modernity seamlessly. You smiled triumphantly at Diluc, who emerged from behind with a less skeptical look than before. Once meeting your eyes he merely offered a brief smile though he was still unconvinced. The rest of the day followed in similar fashion: you visited numerous hidden destinations and scribbled vigorously into your sketchbook while Diluc just hung around, content with observing little thumbnails of your ideas. To him it was a bit like peeking into your mind.

Over the span of a week you already managed to draft multitudes, now came the difficult part: picking which to use.

Diluc pinched his chin as his brain went into overdrive; his eyes were admittedly more honed for battle and not artistry so to him each draft held significant value. You however didn’t think so.

“These are kinda weak but at the same time I really like the composition. The stronger ones I feel would be easier since their shapes are so defined-”

Everything went into one ear and out the other. You practically treated him like a plastic duck to sort your thoughts aloud. With the combination of your analysis and your partner’s occasional inputs, by midnight three drafts made it through the selection process.

When you both turned in for the night Diluc could physically feel you vibrating under your covers in excitement, and he wished that was also the reason he couldn’t drift off; his nocturnal activities were so ingrained that throughout the night he couldn’t sleep until it was around 4am no matter how warm and snug your body was.

...

That was the last night you slept comfortably, as the rest of the days before the exhibition were dedicated solely to finishing your paintings. At the start they all seemed to be going in the gutter but Diluc had watched you enough to trust the process. And to know how self-destructive you were during it.

“Darling, please it’s two. You can continue later.” From behind Diluc gently tugged your wrist and pulled you away from the painting.

It was difficult to break you out of this state, when you were fully set on finishing a painting, so much so that you began to neglect your other needs, “You stay up until four, how is this any different?”

Of course you had to bring up his night activities, you always did when this topic rose. Not only were you glued to the canvas but you were more aloof and less of the sweetheart he knew you as. Diluc sighed and dropped his hands, feeling disappointment when you immediately parted from his body.

Sometimes his hands really, really itched to meld your equipment together (sometimes even destroy the canvas) just so you would finally take care of yourself. As he settled on a chair, fully intent on supervising you lest you faint again, an unsavoury memory resurfaced.

Your body slumped against his sturdy frame in silence. The only sign of life was the faint rise and fall of your chest as Diluc shook your frame in panic. Ever the competent maid Adelinde took the initiative to call for a doctor before her Master could ground himself, though the latter didn’t notice, eyes fixed on your blanched skin and thin frame.

He’d only been absent for three days yet you managed to work yourself to death in such a short period. Multiple times he’d refer you to a respectable therapist and every time you denied there was anything wrong despite how obvious it was.

Thankfully you had listened and retired for the night earlier than planned. However, Diluc soon woke up to a cold bed at 6am to see you already sluggishly painting again. He took a moment to internally groan before forcing himself up and opening the curtains.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Not long.” You hissed as the sun blinded you (and you called him the vampire), “Could you close them, I can’t see anything.”

“Seeing as you’ll spend the rest of your time here I don’t think I will.” Changing into appropriate wear Diluc slipped on his shoes, “I’m going to get breakfast, what do you want?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“The usual then.”

Seeing the horrendous time Diluc wasn’t surprised to see a lack of people in the breakfast hall. After gathering your food he quickly returned and, to his dismay, saw you in the same place as before. You glanced at the food deposited on the counter but looked away, mumbling ‘in a second’.

Diluc knew better than to trust you on that. After some fumbling he pulled a smile and offered you water. Unwittingly, you puckered your lips and paused as he carefully held your chin to help you drink, your eyes not once leaving the canvas.

Once finished (you’d surprisingly drank it all) Diluc set aside the cup and, from behind, gently brushed aside strands of your hair that fell on your face, nails scratching your scalp with the exact pressure you enjoyed. He didn’t miss the flutter of your eyes when he kissed the back of your head and whispered:

“I’ll be back.”

...

While you were slaving away Diluc decided to do at least one round of the city, and man did he see a lot.

He’d stopped a burglary, an assault, a carriage from almost running over a child, and even two policeman from harassing a women. That was before he even started his return. It seemed that for all the citizens liked to brag about their arrest rate they didn’t stop to consider why there were so many criminals in the first place.

Upon arriving, however, the man stopped dead in his tracks and momentarily questioned his eye sight, because what the hell was Albedo doing by your side? In Fontaine?

The alchemist seemed to have spotted the red head since he nodded in greeting, prompting you to turn and latch onto your husband’s arm.

“Albedo.”

“Diluc, thought I’d see you here. I take it you’re both here for the exhibition too?”

“Too? I didn’t think you’d be interested in this type of stuff.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” Diluc ignored your nails digging into his arm, “But seeing as I’ve no inspiration for any experiments I may as well take this chance.”

At that moment shouting could be heard from outside the hotel. Albedo quickly excused himself to reel back in his little sister lest their fines quadrupled.

“Albedo’s amazing.”

Diluc was about to respond with a teasing ‘should I be worried?’ when he looked down at you, realising that was the least of his concerns; your jaw was tense and your eyes stared blankly at the corner Albedo turned.

Even when Diluc ushered you to the lift (he didn't trust you on the stairs) you continued spouting nonsense, “Not only can he paint extraordinarily well, he exceeds in chemistry while also wearing a vision. No wonder people like him.”

“Because he’s a homunculus sweetheart, they tend to be smarter than the average.” Diluc stroked your jittery fist clutching him, but still you rambled to no one in particular.

He sighed, perhaps he should’ve stayed after all.

...

Before dinner, you began feeling sick.

You were painting normally with more harshness than before when a sudden wave of nausea hit you. Thinking it normal (as normal as fainting on the daily is) you brushed it off until it grew stronger. You set down the brush and felt your way to the chair to sit down for a bit, feeling heat radiating from the bathroom your lover was showering in.

To think about it, your throat was feeling sore from your earlier blabber. Grabbing the used cup from the table you refilled it with water and took a sip. After a while you gagged at the strong taste and leaned over the sink, ready to spill your guts at any moment. You had no idea how much time passed, what with your brain banging around your skull, but soon hot hands soothed your back and tucked your hair behind your ears.

Your dry heaving complimented with tears carried on seemingly forever until your body finally gave up trying to eject whatever it was. Bile razed your throat yet nothing came out, it was both frustrating and relieving. Once Diluc was sure you were fine he shed light on the problem:

“This tap here is for alcohol. The water is the other tap.”

This damn city and its damn quirks.

Shaking as you stepped away, you realised Diluc had stood there soaked the entire time. Your first instinct was to grab a bunch of his brilliant red hair, scented with rich people shampoo, and squeeze; cold water dripped onto your palm and you realised that the man was shivering in his towel. Despite this he’d rather make sure you were okay first and foremost. How touching.

You coughed and pat his shoulder, “I’m fine now, go change. Wouldn’t want you getting me sick before the exhibition would we?”

Diluc stiffened for a second before leaving to change. Not long after your ‘recovery’ you dove straight back to work. You didn’t drink anything Fontaine until the next morning.

...

Against expectations, you finally went outside. It was only for a short while though as you had accidentally stepped on one of your paint tubes and it, well, exploded. What a headache. Literally.

As always Diluc escorted you on the way. You’ve grown very used to his presence, so much so that the others in Mondstadt noticed; every time you were brought up in a conversation you were always referred to as ‘the Master’s lover’ or even ‘what’s-their-face’. You get it, you weren’t the most memorable person ever but they should at least put some respect on your name. It wasn’t as if you were the one following him around, in fact it was the opposite.

Maybe that was why you felt so bitter when the shopkeeper kept talking to Diluc when you were the one actually buying stuff. When he did talk to you it was to make sure you knew what you were buying and over explaining things, as if half the bought paintings on his walls weren’t made by you. You pursed your lips when Diluc intersected with a scathing remark before dragging you out, palms dangerously close to burning through his gloves.

You were used to experiences like that, but it lingered at the back of your mind for the rest of the day, so much so that you didn’t notice the thief until your arm was yanked by your bag. Instinctively you pulled since it was your supplies at stake but weeks of neglect had mounted and crashed in the form of you getting dragged instead.

Before the thief could raise his fist he was knocked into the alley wall and your partner’s hand grabbed his face. You turned away as the offender’s cries were muffled by the roar of flames. Usually it didn’t last for more than a minute, only to teach them a lesson, but it carried on to the point the thief had fainted from pain. Gritting your teeth you smacked Diluc’s shoulder and he finally stopped, dropping the man carelessly. You’d long grown accustomed to the fact Diluc has killed before but that didn’t mean he could do it in front of you. Thankfully he had left the man alive, though you didn’t know whether it was for the better or worse.

It took all your willpower to not vomit at the sight of his face. For all his gentlemanliness Diluc sure vented his frustrations in such violent ways.

...

A couple of weeks in and it was already 20 days until the exhibition.

As the deadline approached your time for breaks and sleep grew thinner until it got to the point where Diluc had to sneak in sleeping pills for your sake.

By now you’d started the third painting; stress marred your youthful features with your eye bags becoming more noticeable. Not to mention the damned illness you contracted from skipping basic needs.

Your hands trembled and your vision doubled from standing for so long. It felt like a thousand suns were behind your eyes as you couldn’t help rubbing the fatigue away to no avail. Despite it being the middle of summer you felt cold and had layered clothing upon clothing, only to feel like a butterfly trapped in its own cocoon.

It came as no surprise when Diluc one day took you, against your own will, to a doctor.

“It seems your immune system was been worn down due to sleep deprivation. As such you’ve become more vulnerable to disease, especially as this is your first time in Fontaine.” The doctor’s eyes glanced at Diluc, “It would be advisable for you to get the recommended amount of sleep and start eating more nutritious food, along with taking this medicine I'll prescribe to you...”

The walk back was silent. Diluc pulled you close to stop you falling, “Promise me you’ll listen this time. Even if you wanted to you can’t work in this state.”

You stayed quiet, and for a moment he thought you were ignoring him when you replied, “The medicine will be enough. I have plenty of time to rest after the exhibition, that is more important.”

It seemed you still hadn’t learned your lesson.

...

The medicine wasn’t working. It was 3 days until the exhibition and the godforsaken medicine wasn’t working.

Heart beating erratically, you panted from overexertion as your tool glided imperfectly across the canvas. Paint clung to you like moss and your knees ached red since you’d forgone standing. The only thing you could hear was the quiet ticking of the clock as yet another day came to an end.

A sharp pain throbbed in your skull, forcing you to retreat and cradle your head, never mind the paint. Your hands squeezed as if possibly caving your own head in would cause less pain.

Your ever dutiful lover was instantly by your side, popping the appropriate tablets in a glass of water for you. Blinking away the moisture in your eyes you gratefully downed it if only for your body to cool for second. Diluc’s usually warm hands were cold when he touched your forehead.

He pursed his lips, “Sleep.”

You shook your head, “I don’t- just please can you tell that doctor nothing he’s done has actually worked.”

“And what if I do? You’ll just drive yourself back down again, do you plan on meeting every doctor on this planet?”

You snapped, “Do you not understand how important this is for me?! Everything I’ve done was for this moment so don’t you dare try to make me feel as if it’s any less than that, who knows when this opportunity will come again?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous of course it will. They invited you for a reason-”

“You don’t know that! There’s always other people, better people they could invite instead, the competition won’t stop just because I’ve fallen ill! I can’t afford to be sick! Do you know how-”

You hung your flushed face in shame. This piqued Diluc’s interest and he touched your shoulder - only for you to flinch away. “... Do I know what? What’s wrong?”

You began trembling, “I-... they didn’t invite me.”

“Darling what-”

“I paid them! I cheated with my money, I was never meant to be invited in the first place. Instead I stole someone else’s opportunity.” Your lower lip trembled and you wanted to be anywhere but here. “What would they think if I turned in some shitty art to their exhibition? It’s humiliating!”

You interpreted your partner’s silence as disappointment and you cried harder; it was difficult to even pursue your only strength, and even harder to swallow that not only were others excelling more than you, but also had multiple talents to show for it. You weren’t unique. You weren’t memorable. You were simply boring.

“I can’t even be good at my own career. They were right, everyone was right, I really am just a nobody-”

“Don’t say that.” Diluc finally broke out his stupor and softened, “You’re so much more than your productivity, so what if they can’t see past that? You shouldn’t let other people dictate your life.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You were born rich, everyone loves you! I was always on the side. Did you know that no one in Mondstadt knows my name? I’ve lived there my entire life, and not a single one of those people could even remember it!” You spat out. “Instead they call me your ‘side-job’. The one time they acknowledge me it’s for some gossip that’s not even centred on me!”

Diluc’s eyes widened and he fell silent again. All your envy, bitterness and anger bubbled until it spilled, wanting to just hurt something, “Did you know that? Did you laugh with them behind my back? Did you think me pathetic for believing I had a chance with someone so out of my league? Well guess what, I never. Ever. Loved you.”

His blanched face only served to encourage you. You laughed hysterically even though deep down you were writhing in agony, “That’s right, I was using you! How does it fucking feel to not be the centre of the universe for once?!”

In a way, Diluc was one of the most important people in your life; without him, you couldn’t possibly have been given offers from others hoping to gain favour from your husband. Even your parents confirmed that marrying that man had been your biggest accomplishment.

You hated that. You hated the stupid ring your parents looked at more than they looked at their own child. Fingers slipping, you finally rid yourself of the accessory and and threw it past Diluc, who was too shocked to even move.

It was deathly silent save for the faint ear piercing thud of the ring. Diluc slipped his eyes closed, and in a moment of sobriety you realised that you may have made the biggest mistake of your life. Your head thumped from the rise in blood pressure and you swayed slightly from shouting your lungs out. You should feel guilty and beg for his forgiveness, but you just couldn’t muster the strength to do so.

When he finally looked at you, his eyes were frigid as if he was back in Snezhnaya.

“I see. Then if we’re confessing the truth I have something to tell you too.” His red eyes consumed you, voice shaking with rage. “The reason you’re sick was of my doing. Everything you ate I laced with poison, I even bribed the doctor to give you placebos. At first I only wanted to test you to see how far you’d go. Evidently I need to take more drastic measures.”

That was all he said before he wordlessly left, slamming the door behind him.

...

You had no idea how much time had passed. For all your efforts you hadn’t worked on your art, not because of your breakdown but because you physically couldn’t get up.

From your distress your body only worsened and passed out on the floor. Paint still stuck to your skin even through the bucket-full of sweat; your body shivered from the cold yet it felt too hot. Even through this your brush was tightly clenched in your hand as you shakily scrawled on the painting. Your throat ran dry as you held your breath while drawing a straight line.

It was wonky. You breathed and tried again, in another place this time. It was even worse. So you tried again. And again. Again. Again. Again-

Paint blotched your skin as you thumped wildly on the canvas. You hardly registered the livid scream as your own. Quickly the brush became disfigured and you discarded it for a much more efficient tool.

The knife the hotel had so generously given to you was finally drawn free for you to hack away at the canvas, splinters digging into your skin without care. Unwanted tears slipped down your cheek as your product was destroyed beyond recognition, blurring your view.

White pain seared and you swore loudly as the crimson you so detested spluttered out your hand. You curled into an exhausted ball, crying until you passed out.

...

The pocketed vial burned his skin.

Diluc hadn’t meant to take it with him initially. In the spur of the moment he swiped the vial sitting at the back of his mini vault when taking out the money. From then he decided he would give you one last chance; the more you dismissed your health the more of the substance he’d give you.

What did you say it was? ‘Too big of an opportunity’, yes that’s how he saw it. Had you been reasonable he wouldn’t have to go to such lengths but you left him no choice. Either you hate him forever or drive yourself into an early grave, it was an easy decision.

After your outburst he’d stormed out and slept elsewhere - slept as in brutally beat up criminals he came across. Not like he had to actually search for them. After blowing off some steam he had a moment of clarity; he’d been ignorant of your struggles, in fact he’d been too inattentive. If the poison was doing its job then he’d have all the time to make it up to you.

On his rush back he’d felt antsy after recalling the knife he left you with. The more he deliberated the more wild his imagination got and soon he was sprinting to your room.

It was awfully quiet.

Assuming the worst he flung the door open to be greeted by your unmoving body. Panicking he immediately crouched down and shook you, paling at the sight of your blood, even considered slapping you if that was what it took.

When you stirred he sighed in relief before a flash of white swiped his face; he flinched back at the last second, however he could feel a cut on his nose. Using the last of your energy you thrashed wildly hoping to cut more than just skin. Diluc however restrained you with ease. Your pink face was contorted in blind rage though your grip on the knife grew weaker.

The vial burned his skin.

...

“Smile dear, he can’t paint what he can’t see.”

Your flat expression didn’t change, eyes boring into the artist. Your husband’s hands laid heavy on your shoulder as if keeping you from escape, even though your autonomy had been greatly reduced already.

After passing out in Fontaine you’d woken up in the cathedral of Mondstadt with Diluc by your side whispering of his forgiveness. Your illness was gone in exchange for the lack of control of your limbs; now you were weaker than ever and wholly reliant on your doting husband.

The finished portrait mocked your chair bound person. Your wedding ring lightly scratched the surface of the canvas as your fingers traced the scar you’d given Diluc. Your last and only victory over him.

Since word got out you had become the main gossip for the people of Mondstadt, but as all things did it died down until (Y/n) was no more.

All you could do now was watch from the windows, forever chained to the manor and coddled to the extreme.

#yandere #yandere genshin #yandere diluc #gender neutral reader

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werewolfetone · 2 years ago

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@canyoutakemehome

In the 17th century in Ireland, specifically in Ulster, where the plantations were, if you wanted to obtain a piece of land and you hadn't, like, inherited it, you had to get a 100 year lease. This was essentially the government giving you & your family the land for 100 years, but after 100 years, you've got to either pay for it again or buy it back. Crucially, this was only open to Protestants, something that was done intentionally to do ethnic cleansing on the Catholics in the area. So, if you were a loyal Englishman who came over in ohhhh say the mid 1680s, and you got yourself a nice wee patch of land for your family, your descendants were going to have to pay for it again when the mid 1780s rolled around. However, when the mid 1780s did roll around, there were a lot of land hungry aristocrats who had been waiting for 100 years to get that land back from the people who had purchased it, not to mention a growing mercantile middle class who also wanted the land, so those descendants were quickly priced out of that land. Due to this in the mid 1780s suddenly you had a bunch of typically extremely egotistical weapon owning people who had just had all of this land taken away by the British establishment, which understandably made them extremely angry, and also made them a lot more willing to not only form their own militant protest movements, but also to put aside differences and ally with people of other religions, classes, etc, to get back at the aristocrats who had stolen the land that they had been told was theirs. And this was supposed to happen--while the 17th century people couldn't have predicted the uproar throughout Europe in the late 18th century or the Catholic merchant class (which was another giant glowing red self destruct button that they built in, actually, but they won't have been able to see that at the time because they were sectarian idiots), they intentionally made it so that the land they had leased could be bought by aristocrats in 100 years if they wanted to do so. Which is just absolutely insane to me. Why did they decide to intentionally undo all of their colonial scheming within 100 years

No matter how much I think about it the 100 year lease thing in 17th century Ulster will never not be insane to me. they literally intentionally built a fucking ticking time bomb self destruct button into their settler colonial state

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eponymous-rose · 4 years ago

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E131 (March 30, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are Liam O’Brien and Sam Riegel!

Brian points out that a lot of Caleb’s greatest fears have come to pass. Liam: “It’s funny, because he’d kind of believed for a while that those things weren’t going to happen. After a while, he got complacent.” He notes that it was extra wild because everything with Trent popped up again in the midst of that complacency. And how did it feel to be defiant toward Trent? “I think Trent successfully made Caleb question if Caleb really was in control“ at the dinner party. “I feel like anything that I do is part of his plans for me, or is that just gaslighting? I’m legitimately scared of that dude.” Sam: “Of Matt?” Liam: “Sure.” He highlights the disconnect between knowing that the M9 is mechanically powerful and could possibly defeat Trent in a dice-and-stats battle, versus fearing him in a story sense and being convinced he can do almost anything.

Sam, on Luc’s death: “That was brutal, man. Matt Mercer is a-- he hates children! Clearly. He actively sought to kill a child in the campaign in as brutal a way as possible. He hates children and wants them dead. Canon. No, but to RP, that was horrible.” He highlights that so much of Veth’s arc has been about trying to get back to her family. “We had to choose something and we thought we were making the right choice. It was all Veth’s fault, and it was pretty rotten. My heart was beating pretty fast, and I certainly didn’t want to have my son die live on the stream. I don’t know what Veth would have done. That’s the end, that’s over. It’s almost worse than when your own character would die. This is something that would also kill Veth.” After the episode was over: “just shaken. I also didn’t know what to do next! That felt like a turning-point moment for my character, weirdly so close to what we assume to be the end arc of this campaign. I texted Matt later that night and was like, that’s it, Veth’s out, I’m tapping out.”

There’s an interlude in which Sam discovers a new dream to record an episode of this show from his Peloton. Dani informs him that she will not be inviting him back.

On Astrid, Liam: “I literally don’t know what she’s doing. I know that she’s dangerous, she always was ambitious, and there’s not been a moment where Caleb let his guard down with her. He’s not trying to reestablish what they had. He cares for the both of them, for Astrid and Eodwulf. He thinks about it a lot, still. He can’t tell how much she buys into everything that she experienced and is now living as a full-grown adult. He suspects that she’s bought in and is not going to change things, because she believes in the system, as much as he’d like to peel her away. He does believe that they want what’s best for the Empire, and stopping whatever wants to come vomiting out of a hole in the frozen north is good for everyone. And they’re powerful. They’re not trustworthy, obviously. But there’s enough at stake to make it worth it. He could imagine a situation where they fight each other to the death.” He was convinced Astrid was going to stop them when they left the tower and was really shocked when she held back. Sam: “Not me! I’ve trusted Astrid since day one. She’s the greatest! I sent a letter to her, she’s very nice, I think you guys would be a nice couple. I believe every word she says.”

On having to decide on Veth deciding to go off and save the world after Luc’s death. “Like I said, I was ready to be done. And then I decided somewhere in there that that’s not very D&D. So I thought I’d leave it up to somebody else, so I asked Caduceus to decide for me, essentially. She knows she’s putting her other family in danger if she doesn’t go. It’s an impossible choice, you know?” Liam: “I love watching you grapple with it, because you’re a lovely father and love your kids.”

On the Sanatorium, Sam: “That was brutal, man. Matt lulls you into a sense of complacency. We’d forgotten that Caleb was a stone-cold killer! It had been a while since he went on a murder spree. Still got it!” Liam: “I never meant for this character to be perfect sunshine.” Brian: “You don’t say.” Liam: “He’s very not-perfect, and I think in his brain, he was going in with the impression that they needed to get in and get out as soon as possible. The place is crawling with people with magic ability, and I didn’t have faith that we wouldn’t be sussed out or something wasn’t going to blow an illusion.” Everything was about getting out of there as fast as possible.

Did the conversation with Yeza help with Veth’s decision? “First of all, every conversation with Yeza is a beautiful one. Every time she talks to Yeza, it makes her feel good. In some ways, she’s gotten to the point now where she knows Yeza’s going to be supportive, she knows he’s going to allow her to do what she wants, but maybe that’s too much. Maybe she needs to not listen to him, basically, and be like, no, you need to be selfish now, dude, you need to say ‘come home, I’m sick of you leaving’. At a certain point, being supportive can turn into being enabling.”

Cosplay of the Week: Jester in the snow! (liljerbear47, photography by kairiceleste on Instagram)

On Trent’s motivations for chasing Caleb: “I really don’t know. The simplest explanation is to just hammer down the nail that’s sticking up. It has crossed his mind that all high-level wizards are in danger of their own ambition and egos, so it’s occurred to him that Trent might have the same kind of ideas that Halas had in the past, and maybe Caleb was always meant to be another body to jump into. Maybe in some sick, disgusting, twisted way, he wants him to be his successor. I am thinking of the next campaign, without getting too deep in, trying to do something that is much more ride-along. Caleb is very, very specific, and I thought long and hard about all the different pieces on the chessboard for him. For campaign three, I’m looking forward to seeing what happens.”

Dani: “Do I need to be keeping lore on your fucking ads?”

On the cursed dagger: “It was a tricky one, because in campaign one, one of the characters was under the influence of a cursed weapon, but it interacted with him and he knew what it was and what it did. And it affected his gameplay as a character. For me, Veth didn’t know what it was, ever. I as a player knew what it was doing, but Veth didn’t know at all. So it was kind of like my dirty, dark secret for many months. I knew this thing was coming perilously close to killing me, but my character didn’t know enough to bring it up to her friends. Nobody ever asked! So I was like, well, I guess this thing’s just going to kill me one day, and it’s kind of going to be a surprise.” Liam: “Sam, you love danger and self-destruction so much, you might as well be Mollymauk.”

On the fight in Yasha’s sequence, Sam: “You gotta put a character in your storm giant creature. It was so fun! It was so great of Matt to involve us in this encounter. It would’ve been fun just to watch, because Matt would have made it amazing and Ashley was sweating bullets, which is always fun to watch.” Sam notes he felt guilty, but Liam was going for the kill. Liam: “Matt’s gotta be careful about giving me that kind of story beat. I do not fucking care, I just fucking flip, I’m like, well, I’m going to destroy you, and I have no qualms about it. It’s too much fun!”

The Beau/Yasha tower date was in part inspired by not being able to give gifts as easily this last year. “This thing that we do together is a gift, but I love finding these moments, like the book for Jester and the tower for Yasha and for Beau. I really just wanted to give both of them a little magic for a night. I wanted them to leave this-- we’re trying to be as entertaining as possible, but shit is having an effect on all of us too, and I wanted them to have an escape, a great place to escape to.”

Fan Art of the Week: an amazing group shot, plus Marion, Yeza, and Luc! (vocaz on Twitter)

On choosing Essek over Trent, Liam: “It would have been so interesting and awful and great! Essek and Astrid and Eodwulf are everything that Bren used to be attracted to that are terrible for him. Essek, hopefully he can with time find a way out of the hole that he dug himself into, but it was only two months ago where he was found out and his ambitions came crashing down around him. Long-term, I have high hopes for him, but I think it’s going to be hard.” In contrast, Astrid and Eodwulf are still “deep in the shit. It would have been really hard to navigate, but fun to play at the table. We made the right choice with what we went with. Essek’s just getting started, and Caleb doesn’t trust him entirely, because he was burned so hard not too long ago. He’s still more trustworthy than the other three. So it’s the better choice. While Caleb has all these ties on the other side, they’re really fucking dangerous. So if you have to choose, you choose Essek. But fuck that die.” Sam: “Veth, much like Sam Riegel, makes instant decisions about whether to trust someone or not and sticks to it forever. Astrid, 100% trust. Eodwulf, 100% distrust. Essek, completely distrust. I still don’t think he’s a good guy. Ikithon? Trust. 100%. Because you know where he’s coming forward, you know what he wants. I still want him dead, but I trust him.”

On Veth’s post-adventuring plans: “Veth is probably still too in it right now to think about what comes next. I, Sam Riegel, have a good idea of what I want Veth to do post-campaign.” Brian: “Maybe you shouldn’t tell us. Save it for the show!” Sam: “All she knows is she can’t do this anymore. It’s very unhealthy to be battle-wounded every other day. It’s fun for a while, but college has to end at some point, and she’s gotta go home.”

On Frumpkin changing appearance and returning to the Feywild: “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but the way it feels now for Caleb is that he feels too enmeshed in everything that has happened, and too much good has happened, and too much needs to happened, that that really narcissistic, selfish goal has the risk of harming everything else, which is more important. And that’s how he looks at it now. So he’s gearing towards letting everything from the beginning of the campaign, and where he started, go, and trying to figure out what use he’s going to be now and what he’s going to do if they’re not all dead. If Matt throws that shit down, I don’t know what I will do, I think about it a lot. But turning Frumpkin white and saying you’re free either way is him preparing to let go of everything he’s been holding on to for a really long time. He’s addicted to that idea that he can fix himself, and we’ll see if that hard choice gets presented, what he might do. But where he stands now, he doesn’t think that’s going to be reality, and he sees a way that he can be of use that he never really anticipated before, so he’s slowly shifting gears towards living with the pain he was trying to remove.”

On the last request scene and confidence heading into Aeor, Sam: “I feel like that’s a good request. I think all of us realized that if we die, that probably bodes badly for the world. I feel like all of us are at a point now as characters and as friends, that the first order of business would be to take care of everybody else’s shit, although we probably have different ideas of how to do that.” Liam: “I want the Empire to be healed, Caleb has all these memories of his parents and what they wanted for the world, and he wants that too. It’s clearly not in place now, the system needs to be broken and replaced. That could be a part of Caleb’s sunset. I don’t want Caleb to die, so maybe he can work on that after. As everything starts to shake out and we start heading towards our destiny, Caleb’s just free-floating. He’s not even going after the same thing he started for. So he’s looking at Veth’s family, and Luc specifically, and seeing that’s me, that’s a little boy in the Empire.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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aspoonofsugar · 3 years ago

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Jaune: Zero to Hero

Pyrrha: It's not about why; it's about knowing. Understanding dark and light helps us manifest our Aura. Everyone has some of both.

Knowledge, Creation and Destruction all lead up to Aura. This is just another way to say that they lead up to individuality, which is something Grimms lack:

Pyrrha: They are creatures of Grimm, the manifestation of anonymity.

Individuality is conveyed through Choice. This is why Choice is the most important and final gift. It is symbolic of self-actualization, which is what our characters are pursuing in their coming of age story.

Jaune’s personal arc comments the group’s collective journey and marks each stage very clearly.

In which way does it happen? And what do these stages mean for Jaune’s growth as an individual?

THE IGNORANT WARRIOR

Pyrrha: Jaune, do you... know what Aura is?

Jaune: Psch! Of course I do! Do you know what Aura is?

Jaune is introduced as inexperienced and ignorant. He lacks combat experience and knows nothing about key concepts like Aura, Landing Strategy or Semblances.

His journey starts because Pyrrha shares her knowledge with him:

She awakens his aura, his very soul and later on trains him, so she helps his body get stronger:

In other words, Pyrrha is the one who puts Jaune on the right path to become a true “hero” and a “warrior”.

This is Jaune’s objective since the beginning, but he initially pursues it in the wrong way:

Jaune: I don't want help! I don't want to be the damsel in distress! I want to be the hero!

He is fixated on an idea of hero which is outdated and has its root in toxic masculinity:

Jaune: Cause this is always what I've wanted to be! My father, my grandfather, and his father before him were all warriors! They were all heroes! I wanted to be one, too. I was just never good enough.

This is why symbolically Jaune wants to be like his male ancestors. He wants to grow into “a real man”:

Cardin: Let's see how much of a man you really are...

And this is conveyed also through his Weapon:

Jaune: It's a hand-me-down. My great-great-grandfather used it to fight in the war.

Jaune did not forge his own Weapon, but he inherited it. Crocea Mors initially represents the legacy he wants to live up to. However, this legacy, instead of driving him, slows him down because he can’t grow until he remains in his ancestors’ shadow. Jaune needs to develop his own individuality instead.

In order to do so, he needs to grow not only as a figther, but as a person too.

As a matter of fact, Jaune’s ignorance is not only limited to the world he has stepped into, but also to the people around him:

Jaune: That's easy for you to say. You've probably got guys clamoring over each other just to ask you out.

Pyrrha: You'd be surprised.

He is so self-focused that he does not notice others’ feelings and hurts them unintentionally.

However, Pyrrha teaches him once again:

Pyrrha:Tell her exactly what you said. No ridiculous schemes, no pick-up lines. Just... be honest.

It is thanks to her that Jaune manages to become a better man:

He is even able to call Neptune out the way Pyrrha did with him:

Jaune: Then just go talk to her. No pickup lines, no suave moves, just be yourself. I've heard that's the way to go.

And as a result, even Jaune’s relationship with Weiss gets better:

Weiss: You said you were embarrassed at first. What made you come talk to me?

Neptune: You're looking at him. You got some good friends looking out for ya.

Because the girl realizes Jaune is not only after her money or her romantic attention:

Weiss: All my life, boys have only cared about the perks of my last name.

But wants to genuinely be a good friend to her.

In short, Jaune starts the story as immature both as a fighter and as a person to the point that he is considered unfit and annoying by other characters:

Glynda: I don't care what his transcripts say. That Jaune fellow is not ready for this level of combat.

However, thanks to Pyrrha, he is given the chance to mature.

Not only that, but while other characters see a weakness and a nuisance in Jaune’s ignorance and inexperience, Pyrrha sees it as a possibility:

Weiss: Jaune, is it? Do you have any idea who you're talking to?

Jaune: Not in the slightest, snow angel.

Weiss: This is Pyrrha.

It is specifically because Jaune is new to Pyrrha’s world that he is free from bias:

Pyrrha: That's what I like about you. When we met, you didn't even know my name. You treated me just like anyone else. And thanks to you, I've made friendships that will last a lifetime. I guess, you're the kind of guy I wish I was here with. Someone who just saw me for me.

This is why Pyrrha feels she can forge a genuine bond with Jaune. What is more, the girl has faith in his potential:

Pyrrha: It's all right. I used my Aura to unlock yours, but the energy that protects you now is your own. You have a lot of it.

She sees in him what others do not and helps him develop both as a man and as a warrior.

This is well highlighted by the metal motif the two characters share.

As @hamliet explains here Rwby has several characters linked to the seven metals of alchemy.

The goal of alchemy is to create gold thanks to a process of refiniment that purifies the metal and has it go through several transformations.

The seven metals are nothing, but a scale that goes from the heaviest and most raw metal (lead) to the most purified (gold) passing through the others (tin, iron, copper, mercury, silver).

For a story, it simply means that a character goes through a process of change that leads to self-actualization.

In Rwby this idea is conveyed through specific characters embodying a metal (Ironwood, Penny, Mercury) or even thanks to metal motifs commenting a specific part of a character arc.

For example, Yang is associated with gold:

I am the golden one Who burns just like the sun

But Adam takes her arm away and has her regress in the scale of metals to iron. This regression is not simply physical, but psychological as well:

However, Yang re-affirms herself and moves forward. The first step of this process is to symbolically make her new arm “gold” again:

When it comes to Jaune, I think that he may be the character associated with lead aka the “prima materia” that needs to be molded into gold. Even if this is not true, metal is at least definately still a motif in his arc, as it is in Pyrrha’s. This is why both characters wear metal armors, differently from others.

Pyrrha is already close to her self-actualization and she reaches it in the climax of the Vale arc, where she completes her (tragic) arc and dies a Maiden.

This is why her armor is gold, while Jaune’s is white and gray. Pyrrha is at the top of the metal scale and close to the end of her journey, while Jaune is respectively at the very bottom and at the very beginning.

He is the embodyment of the prima materia that has potential for greatness, but only if he is rightly guided and if he himself works hard.

Pyrrha takes over herself the duty to help Jaune mold himself.

This is underlined also by Pyrrha’s semblance:

Pyrrha: Well, Ruby has her speed, you have your glyphs. My Semblance is polarity.

Pyrrha can control and bend metals and she shows her power for the first time when she helps Jaune against the Ursa, so that he can overcome his self-issues.

So, Jaune starts the story as the lead and is going through a path of self-refinement which will lead him to become gold, so more similar to Pyrrha herself.

Pyrrha offers him the basic knowledge to start this journey, but unluckily leaves him too soon and now Jaune has to move forward on his own.

THE CREATIVE AVENGER

Pyrrha: I want you to know that I'm just happy to be a part of your life. I'll always be here for you, Jaune.

Even after Pyrrha’s death, this stays true:

Blacksmith: That was some fine metal you brought me. Accents the white nicely. Where'd you get it from?

Pyrrha has become a part of Jaune.

This is a recurring motif in Rwby:

Penny: I won’t be gone, I’ll be part of you.

It is the idea that grieving is a process that leads to acceptance, but also to integration with a lost one. It is a way to have the deceased keep on living through the survivors.

In Jaune and Pyrrha’s case, this is conveyed through Pyrrha’s metal being used to enrich Jaune’s Weapon.

As stated by Ruby:

Ruby: Just weapons? They're an extension of ourselves! They're a part of us! Oh, they're so cool.

Weapons are symbolic of the self, just like Semblances.

What is more, Weapons and Semblances are also a declination of the dychotomy of body and soul, presented by the series.

Weapons are wielded by bodies, while Semblances are a materialization of the soul.

In other words, Pyrrha’s gold becoming a part of Jaune’s Weapon is symbolic of Jaune’s first step in a painful process that will lead him to overcome his partner’s death and to inherit Pyrrha’s legacy.

Jaune must keep on learning from Pyrrha and become more like her. As noted by @hamliet, this is symbolized also by Jaune’s design aquiring more golden details as he goes on in his journey:

Jaune: Guess I was going to grow out of it eventually.

Ren: A sign of progress.

Jaune: Progress.

That said, grieving is not easy and Jaune must struggle with much pain and negative feelings.

This is why the changes he makes to Crocea Mors are finalized to increase its attack power:

It is because Jaune feels anger over Pyrrha’s death and wants revenge.

In the Battle of Haven he gives in to his fury and tries to kill Cinder. He is trying to superficially imitate Pyrrha’s sacrifice:

Jaune: If I die buying them time, then it's worth it. They're the ones that matter.

However, he is not doing it out of bravery or necessity, but out of recklessness and self-hate. This is why his actions lead to this:

Once again, Jaune risks to lose another loved one:

Jaune: No, no, no, no, not again! Weiss, c'mon, please!!

However, this time he is able to save Weiss thanks to his Semblance:

Jaune: My Semblance?

Nora: How else do you think you're healing her, dummy?

Jaune gives up on using his Weapon to fight and chooses to use his Semblance to cure. He chooses soul over body and Creation over Destruction.

At the same time, Jaune’s activation of his Semblance is meaningful on two levels:

Jaune: No. I don't think I'm healing her. Our Aura heals our bodies. It feels... it feels more like I'm using my Aura to amplify hers!

Nora: Wait, aren't you worried about running out?

Jaune: Pyrrha once told me I've got a lot of it. I still believe her.

First of all, Jaune’s Semblance is rooted in the idea that people heal themselves. His power is not to cure others, but to amplify others’ auras, so that they can become stronger and can heal. It is about bringing out the best in others. It is a power fit for a leader, but also an ability symbolic of Jaune’s own process of healing. He can heal himself through helping others to heal.

Secondly, Jaune’s Semblance is in itself a nod to Pyrrha. Pyrrha used her own aura to awake his and Aura Amp is simply an evolution of this idea. It is not about activating others’ auras, but it is a power that lets Jaune share his. It also makes good use of something Pyrrha noticed immediately aka Jaune’s huge quantity of aura.

In other words, Jaune ends up acting like Pyrrha in the Battle of Haven, but not because he fights Cinder, but because he shares his gift with others, just like Pyrrha did with hers.

Pyrrha is a part of Jaune both in body (Crocea Mors) and soul (Aura Amp), but Jaune must still truly understand what this means.

He makes progress in Lost:

Red-Haired Woman: She understood that she had a responsibility... to try. I don't think she would regret her choice, because a Huntress would understand that there really wasn't a choice to make. And a Huntress is what she always wanted to be.

This is the essence of Pyrrha’s sacrifice. Jaune comes to understand it and chooses to make a similar choice together with his team:

Jaune: I think... I think she knew she wasn't going to win. That she might not come out alive. But... she also knew she was the only one that could try.

Ren: So she did.

Nora: Maybe we should too.

Jaune: Yeah, we should.

In this way, it will be as if Pyrrha were fighting together with them:

Nora: Pyrrha may not be by our side anymore, but we can fight like she is.

Jaune: And in a way... she will be.

Jaune tries to overcome his anger and his sadness for Pyrrha’s death in order to keep fighting like she did.

So, once again he chooses this:

Ruby: I wanted to protect my friends.

Maria: Precisely! It is the desire to preserve life which fuels the light inside you. And to make no mistake, it is light. Preservation is an extension of creation, or, at the very least, an enemy of destruction. The Creatures of Grimm were made by the God of Darkness, but your light comes from his brother.

He chooses to protect life and this is the essence of Creation.

Once he confirms this choice, he is free to explore Creation’s potential and he does so in the land of Creation itself, Atlas.

He strengthens his shield instead of his sword:

And he trains his Semblance:

Oscar: Nice, your recovery is getting faster.

This all leads him to become stronger psychologically:

Ren: Him on the other hand... There's no fear at all. I can see it, he believes we're going to get this done.

That said, Jaune starts meeting limits to his new found strength rooted in Creation:

Jaune: Ah, sorry. No matter how much I boost you, they won’t go away.

Jaune: Did... I stop the virus?

Penny: No. It’s still there.

Jaune’s way to move forward is to heal himself through healing others. Still, what to do when this is not possible?

THE DESTRUCTIVE HEALER

Penny: No… there’s not enough time to heal me…

Penny: But there is something you can do…

What happens in Atlas is an inversion of Haven.

Penny pushes Jaune’s Semblance away and touches Crocea Mors.

Jaune is asked to give up on healing her and to speed up her death instead. He is asked to choose his Weapon (body) over his Semblance (soul) and Destruction over Creation.

This marks the characters entering the Destruction phase:

Leaving Creation (Penny) behind.

For Jaune, this means that his own self image that he has worked so much to build and to make his own:

And that has been enriched in Anima thanks to Pyrrha...is shattered:

At the same time, he is once again put in a similar spot as Pyrrha:

They both become unwilling agents of Penny’s death because of Cinder (and Emerald and Mercury in the first case):

Pyrrha: Ruby, I... I'm so sorry.

Ruby: Me too. But it wasn't your fault.

Jaune: She's right. Whoever was on that microphone... they're the ones that did this. And we have to make sure they don't take anyone else.

So Jaune’s journey to integrate with Pyrrha, to understand her and her struggle continues.

What now?

It is too soon to say because we have yet to properly start our journey through Destruction and what it is about.

That said, there are two things that are worth highlighting. The first is a motif Rwby is following, while the second is a general theme found in many stories.

1) As @hamliet has stated in many metas and as I have written here, Rwby is an alchemical story. Alchemical stories are usually marked by three important deaths. Each death is symbolically linked to a color. They are usually black, white and red. However, sometimes there can be yellow instead of the white or the red. This is the case here, where a resonant death is the yellow death aka Penny’s.

It is a death that happens while the characters are surrounded by yellow:

And it happens through a weapon called “Yellow Death” (Crocea Mors’s meaning). So, it is really not subtle. Penny’s death is meant to mark an important passage for our protagonists, just like Pyrrha’s one (the black death).

2) It is common in stories that deal with healers to explore the concept of death as well.

The basic idea is that a healer is a person meant to cure. That said, they will meet people impossible to cure and that will die on their watch. This is an unescapable truth a true healer must live with.

Let’s highlight this theme is found in works very different for genre and culture.

Let’s have two examples.

Scrubs aka an American comedy about doctors deals with this theme multiple times. In many episodes the characters must simply accept they can’t save a life, but must still not lose hope and keep on living themselves.

Yosano from the manga BSD says so:

Her backstory explores the link bewteen life and death further since it is shown that a power that cures fatal wounds can be used to cheapen life itself:

It is too soon to say if Rwby will explore a similar theme, but the fact that Jaune, (the healer) is the one that has to speed up Penny’s death might be a very powerful and poignant choice. This is true especially because Rwby does not refuse Destruction (and so does not refuse death), but presents it as a principle equal to Creation (so as a part of life).

THE CHOOSING HERO

Jaune’s arc is about living Pyrrha’s death over and over again with different scenarios and outcomes. This happens so that in the end he can finally overcome it.

So far, it has happened three times and each time has been in the climax of an important battle.

The Battle of Beacon has him witness powerlessly to Pyrrha’s death (lack of knowledge and passivity).

The Battle of Haven has him saving Weiss (creation).

The Battle of Atlas has him killing Penny (destruction).

What is more, every time Jaune becomes more proactive and conscious of what he is doing.

In Beacon he has no idea of what is happening. He works with little information and things happen to him without him being able to do anything.

In Haven his actions lead to Weiss being in danger, but he manages to save her. That said, he does not do it consciously. He unlocks his Semblance because of emotional stress. It is an unconscious choice and not a conscious one.

In Atlas he makes a specific conscious choice, but it is a choice that is forced on him because of external circumstances. It is also a choice that is meant to challenge and temporally break him.

In other words, he is slowly and painfully approaching Choice aka self-actualization. Right now, he has to face the consequences of Penny’s death, but this will probably lead him to finally enter the Choice stage and to complete his arc by becoming a “hero” aka gold (probably).

At the same time, this final choice will also be about healing and overcoming grief. It will be the final integration with Pyrrha and him being able to honor her legacy.

After all, we have been told from the beginning what Pyrrha’s fate would have been. We’ve just failed to notice:

Pyrrha: For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death. I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee.

June and Pyrrha’s bond is eternal and she is meant to be the key character in Jaune’s arc. It is only through confronting and finally overcoming her loss that Jaune can finally self actualize and become the person Pyrrha has always known he could be. Pyrrha will symbolically be with him in this struggle. Her memory will protect and inspire him.

#rwby #rwby meta #jaune arc #arkos #rwby arkos #pyrrha nikos #tw: penny's death #jaune x pyrrha #my meta

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austarus · 3 years ago

Text

Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader Ballistic Confrontations (3/3)

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif belongs to me!

**If you understand what I’m referencing to in the end, well the Kudos to you. You win 85 Stardollars.

***Trigger Warning: Scars from mentioned self-harm

****Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

Word Count: 6397

Part 1 Part 2

Eobard said nothing. Instead, he disregarded your look as his gaze locked back onto Kara, as the Kryptonian woman threw him a hateful look. The futuristic genius did not care. His baby blue hues jumped back to where you stood before stepping away to the side tables. Now we proceed, the speedster mused to himself, picking up a scalpel and arranging his surgical tools. The stage needed to be set tonight. All the actors were in place, and he needed to complete his role. A delicate procedure, if you will. But he needed to be bought some time. Surely, Barry and the others would be back by now from Earth-X. He was, in essence, reluctant to cut up the Earth-38 Kryptonian for he held no malice towards her. She was just an unnecessary casualty in all this. And after all, if Barry Allen were to die it would be at his hands. Not on some tainted Earth at the firing range. You’re centuries late, Mr. Allen. As always.

You glared at your genius scientist for not cluing you in on whatever it is he had planned now. What was his plan? Play along until ‘Uh oh, it’s too late to turn back’ and ‘Oh, look. We’re doomed’? A grunt caught your attention, Kara was trying to break out of her restraints again. “Kara,” you whispered, now standing beside her. “Save your energy, please.” She eyed the restraints on you before taking a slow breath in. Kara wanted to throw her guts up, but she pushed back the bile caught in her throat.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Honey, you are looking anything other than fine.”

Kara pursed her lips, feeling fatigue wash over her once more. “Where… where are the others… that were here- at the labs? Are they…?” There it was, always concerned for others when she should be concerned about herself.

“No, no they’re fine. They’re in the pipeline. Iris and Felicity-” You stopped yourself, noticing Eobard’s head snap towards you. A pang of guilt echoed in your body. “They’re being held there too,” you lied, giving her hand two small squeezes for her to indicate the lie. If he held things back from you to entertain the Earth-Xer’s with legitimate reactions, then so would you. Supergirl nodded her head subtly in understanding. You were too focused with Kara; you didn’t notice Eobard move. “You’re going to be fine; the others should be back. They wouldn’t go out just like that.” Iris, Felicity, where’s that help? Just where are you guys? You couldn’t leave if you wanted to. Not with the others lurking around. Not when there was a chance you could tip them off about Iris and Felicity, then there was Eobard. Overgirl would instantly go after him for betrayal.

“I… I really hope not. Alex-” Kara trailed off; her eyes drooping shut as her shoulders sagged. Her hand went limp in your cuffed ones.

“Kara?” You looked up to see a tube in Eobard’s hand with a syringe in it. Empty as its contents have already worked its way into Kara’s system. “What are you doing?!”

“I’ve given her a mild anesthetic,” you pursed your lips as his statement. Eobard sighed, “Not to worry, that should have her out for 30 minutes. Strong enough for a Kryptonian, but not strong enough for too long even with the red sunlight on her.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I needed to talk to you without anyone listening.” You followed how Eobard’s eyes glanced at the door. Outside stood two more Nazi guards.

“You could have just pulled me to the other room,” you whisper-yelled at him.

“No, I couldn’t have.” He crossed his arms at you, replying in his own gravely hushed tones. “I needed to keep up the image of the bad guy in front of Kara.”

“Why? Why, when she could understand that you’re not really with them? Why let her also think of you as one of those heinous monsters?”

“Because her opinion of me doesn’t matter. Not hers, not the Earth-Xers, not anyone else.” Eobard punctuated his words before taking your hands in his, placing a gentle kiss on the back of one. The intensity in his eyes never broke as he spoke once more, “Only your opinion of me matters. You matter.”

You pursed your lips, your eyes unable to leave his heated gaze. Oh, if only we weren’t in this mess. If only we had more time… Kara crossed your mind once more, the ominous thrumming noise that came from the machine that generated the red sunlight. A frown found its way onto your face. “Wait, you said 30 minutes? Shouldn’t she need time to recover from the anesthesia to be given another one?”

Eobard sighed, letting go of your hands. He crossed his arms. You weren’t going to like his answer. “No, not in this case.” Dread welled up in the pit of your stomach.

“What…”

“The General herself requested, more like ordered, me to have our Kara awake during the… transplant.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You responded slowly. Your eye slightly twitched as anger started to consume your thoughts. You wanted nothing more than to rip your friend’s doppelganger apart.

Eobard very well sensed your feelings, he always hated putting a frown on your face or seeing you upset to this extent. “Look, I don’t want to do it either,” the speedster retorted hastily as he unfurled his arms, his hands gently grabbed your shoulders, “but I can’t defy their word especially with you around.”

“Why? Am I suddenly a liability?”

“Never, but they’ll figure something is up with you here with me. Conspiring against them. You already saw how easily Oliver-X caved to his Kara regarding who you are to me.”

Technically, that’s my own damn fault, but a calculated risk to get to Eobard. I can live with the repercussions. “But that’s technically what we’re doing on the downlow, Eo.” You echoed one of the lessons he taught you years ago. “One weakness is better than none, it can be essential to creating the downfall of another.” He had mainly told you that regarding Eilling, who hadn’t ceased to stick his nose into Eobard’s lab experiments and projects. The general had eyed you as a means to get to him, but in reality you were a strength to Eobard. Not a weakness. And the speedster very well knows you can handle your own; after all, the both of you trained constantly. Pushing each other’s limits. Though where you hesitated to kill, he compensated on that, especially in the right moment. “We can have the Dark Archer on the ropes. If anything, he’s made it evident that his wife is a liability to his rational thinking.”

A proud grin ran along his handsome face. “Exactly, my little bird. But they will hurt you, even if you can hold out against them you can’t take them both on.” Even I cannot, not with where I’m at with my speed. Not with the slight dampener they have on my suit. The potential self-destruction if removed from the emblem by my own hands, is a heavy weight on my chest. If I can get rid of them, I can defuse the detonator.

“I’m not worried about me; I’m worried about you! I can’t- I can’t be the one to lose you again.” Eobard shifted his gaze away from you. “Look it’s not going to come to that.” He knew what you were suggesting. “Ok? Worst comes to worst I cause a distraction.”

“No, over my rotting corpse.”

That sounds eerily familiar.

“We don’t have a choice, if it buys us time then I’ll be damned not to try!”

“That’s why we adapt to the situation and find alternate routes to keep off their radar. I know what I’m doing.”

“Precisely. Adapting. So let me do what I can if it comes down to it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!” You bit back a retort at the way he raised his voice. “Just trust me.” He wasn’t asking you to.

“Kinda hard with your track record,” You deadpanned, and Eobard just rubbed his face.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Is that a question you seriously want me to answer?” A small cheeky smile made its way to your face. You couldn’t help but tease him right now, of all times.

Eobard huffed out a chuckle, pulling out some white surgical clothes from a drawer. Have those always been there? “Just follow my lead, ok? Whatever happens stay on their side, whatever happens to me stay with Barry and the others.” Eobard gloved his hands while the guards re-entered the medical room along with Oliver-X and Kara-X. Speak of the devil. You pursed your lips and held a stoic expression even as Kara-X sauntered to her respective gurney, smirking widely before a violent coughing fit erupts from her. You didn’t miss how Oliver-X moved towards her, yet you averted your eyes to the protruding machines the other soldiers were bringing in for the ‘necessary’ operation. Two guards held you by the arms where you stood. You swallowed thickly as everything was being sterilized and prepped.

***

Harry caught the ball once more after it ricocheted back to him. He’d been letting his frustration out on it towards the cell wall. Something didn’t feel right. He cursed himself, knowing he should have been carrying some weapon or breaching device to have gotten away from the Dark Archer. Or any intruder for the matter of this invasion. Yes, he pushed the emergency labs alarm, but he still got whacked and dragged to the pipeline. He could have done more damage to these damned Nazi’s, but he was helpless. I should have carried my gun or my pulse rifle, what was I thinking? His hand gripped tightly at the ball as regret never left his side. I should have seen this as a possible attack. It’s a simple strategy. Divide and conquer. Yet they were all too fooled, too hasty to attack to even logically see this move by the Earth-Xers.

“Wait, Thawne’s here?” Cisco’s outburst broke the Earth-2 genius out of his thoughts. Harry cracked his neck and directed his attention back to Cisco’s squabbling from the cell near him. The Wells doppelganger was getting pretty tired about hearing of Thawne. A feeling of dread picked at his insides, his thoughts going to you and what Barry had discussed vehemently earlier.

“Yeah,” Caitlin responded. “I haven’t seen or heard from her. We only briefly got a visit from Iris and Felicity not too long ago. But they didn’t know where she was either.”

“Do you think maybe she… you know?” Cisco made an implication. “I mean, does she know?”

“I don’t know,” Caitlin trailed off. “But Iris had said that she left them in the Time Vault to buy them time. Whatever that could mean.”

“Well, on the one hand, they either got to her and are holding her hostage somewhere or, on the other, she rendezvoused with Thawne and now they're going all Mengele on Kara.”

Harry rubbed his face irritably at Cisco’s words, by now you would have known. There’s a high possibility. Whether it’s from seeing Thawne face-to-face or by overhearing someone. By now, Harry’s sure, you would have made a choice. Where did you go, though?

The lights flickered in the pipeline before shutting off as Caitlin finished. A dull blue tint lit up in each individual cell as the pipeline was divulged into a dim darkness. The emergency lights were the only things on. Every person was on high alert at this point.

“Ohohoho, my girl Felicity definitely pulled that one!” Cisco chirped, making a loud clap.

Dinah tried her canary call again, but to no avail. The cell would not budge. Harry narrowed his eyes; he knew she’d try again. But Cisco had crafted these cells with Thawne cautiously for metas. Practically indestructible unless you’re a Time Wraith.

“I wouldn’t try it again if I were you.” Harry finally spoke. Dinah paused, the silence daring to be her question. “These cells are reinforced to withstand any form of meta-attacks generated within. A backup generator still supplies the power dampeners with energy to preserve the cell.” Harry looked out his cell and towards the darkness. “All we can do is wait.”

***

You took a breath, smoke and blood and electricity filled the air. Your eyes didn’t miss the rush of electricity in the distance. Red and gold, the Speedforce of the only two speedsters here. Swallowing thickly, your attention was diverted to the Waverider being chased by another. Well damn, I think someone’s having a bit too much fun. Raising an eyebrow, you watched both airborne vehicles zig-zag through the air. You hooked up your earpiece and headed for the nearest skirmish to help out. A grin plastered itself on your face when you heard Cisco on the comms arguing with Harry. I guess they’re the ones taking the Waverider for a joy ride.

You pressed the button on your communication device, “Any chance I can hop on?” You sucker punched a Nazi. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to do that all day.” Cisco laughed, weaving through the air as if he’s directing a Strike Fighter.

He’s totally Luke Skywalkering his way through this.

“Girl, where you been?”

“Let’s just say,” you huffed, generating electricity in your palm and slamming it into the chest of another soldier. “I caught some unwanted attention, and they were reluctant to release me.” In actuality, Eobard had sped you away from the Labs once Ray made a dramatic entrance to save Kara. He’d sped you to where the battle would be, at least to where the Earth-X forces would arrive from. Telling you to run and appear at an opportune moment. Meaning, go hide while the battle thickens so your disappearance doesn't bring up too many questions from your friends. “Is Iris with you?”

“Yeah, she’s in the back with Felicity, we’re still trying to maneuver in the best position possible to take down their shields.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thinking back to her stunt with Felicity to sabotage the surgery. “So, how about that help?”

“Hmm,” Harry spoke up, pushing his glasses up. “Unless you have the capability of overloading and shutting down the entire Earth-X Waverider system without passing out, be our guest.”

“… I mean I could try.”

“No.”

You pouted, punching another soldier, this time in the nose. Someone’s particularly grumpy right now. “It’s honestly not that hard, I would just be out for a couple of days and probably on life support.” The line was quiet meaning that Harry chose to ignore your comment. Rude.

You took in a breath and reduced your being to an electrical form, traveling up some buildings to gauge the situation. Kara and Kara-X were facing off at the moment. Eobard was naturally keeping Barry busy while Oliver and Oliver-X were in an intense hand-to-hand-to-bow combat. Yeah, their fight wasn’t as impressive as the other two. You took in a breath heading back down to the fight, this time getting closer to Mick and Leo Snart, who you found to be the Earth-X resistance fighter and doppelganger to your dead ex-boyfriend.

What goes around comes around.

***

“Where were you?”

Turning back from where you sat, you sent a questioning look to Barry and pointed to yourself when no one had responded. He had specifically prompted you with the question. The look in his hazel-green eyes were distant as he leaned against the front of the Cortex desks. You recognized that look from a few years ago. The silence in the Cortex was sliced amongst the team. DeVoe was still out there, scheming. Some stopped what they were doing to gauge what would happen, others (mainly Harry) kept working away but inclined an ear in case either of you were to do something rash.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, (Y/N). You’re not that dumb.”

“Excuse me.” You narrowed your eyes at the scarlet speedster.

“Barry,” Iris whispered to him, but he shook her off as he folded his arms.

“Where were you after you left Iris and Felicity?”

Ah, of course he wouldn’t miss that. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.

“I went to go buy them some time.”

“Buy them some time or buy yourself some time? To see Eobard.”

Your heart hammered tightly in your chest, but you made no move to indicate what you had done. In a sense, you did both. You protected Iris and Felicity while keeping Eobard company.

“Why would I want to see someone who’s allied themselves to a Nazi regime on a different Earth, Barr?”

“Why wouldn’t you do anything to see the one you once loved?”

“Are you talking about me,” you tilted your head to the side, taunting him now, “or yourself?” You referenced the events that happened last year. Barry was more than aware of what you were indicating. Flashpoint. Savitar. Iris’ predicted death, HR’s sacrifice, his time remnant’s downfall. But you’ve been wanting to add kerosene to the flames. “Are you referring to your mom,” you turned your head to Iris, “or to Iris?” If looks could kill, you would have been reduced to ashes under Barry’s gaze. Cisco put down his tools and Caitlin glanced at her friends from where she sat beside Iris. Harry capped his marker but turned his eyes towards you. “Like I said, I caught some unwanted attention, and they were reluctant to release me. How is that any different from the others getting stuck in the pipeline?”

“You left Iris to defend herself.”

“Oh my god! Barry!” You rolled your eyes at his statement, deflecting your own questions. “Iris this, Iris that. Iris is a big girl with nearly perfect marksmanship as Harry. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself. I know that. She knows that. The same goes for Felicity as well. But do you know that?” Divide them, fester the idea of unreliability between those two. After all, it’s because of Barry’s decisions for Iris that everyone gets screwed over. It’s one of the reasons for the resentment and bitterness that grows within you. Only they can be happy, no one else can.

“You left Iris and Felicity while this place was crawling with Earth-Xers just to see Thawne!”

“Fucking prove it, you dickbag,” you screamed back at him, “if you’re so certain. Prove it, because contrary to your belief, I was fighting beside you and everyone else that day in the city once I managed to escape. Ask Cisco and Harry. Ask Sara. Hell, even ask Mick and Leo.”

Barry shook his head with a cruel smile, “Do you wanna know how I know?” The speedster took out his phone and started it up, showing the screen of your location. “Careful what you wish for.” Dread gripped your heart as Barry chuckled to himself. “That’s right. I chipped you, that night I pushed you against the doorframe before leaving for the warehouse fight. I chipped you. I already had Thawne chipped earlier that night. On his suit, when I landed a few hits on him. He doesn’t know or… not until recently.” Barry did a search for any pings, but there were none except for yours. “You asked me for proof, here it is.” He slid his fingers on the screen showing a timestamp and your location pinged with Eobard’s at the labs.

“This means nothing.”

“It means everything!” Barry stepped closer to you, anger in his wake. “You left us for him.”

“Yet I still fought with you guys because it was the right thing to do regardless of how I feel for him. You don’t understand nor will you want to understand. You’d rather label us as 100% on the wrong side without acknowledging that we can dwell in a gray area. The world isn’t just black and white, Barry. Or have you forgotten about your own morally gray decisions?”

Sparks crackled in the air, whether it was from you or Barry, no one could tell. Harry took a subtle step towards you from where he stood at the glass board a few feet beside you. He was the only one that can calm you down from this, maybe Iris too, but most definitely he himself. But Harry wasn’t quick enough because the Cortex monitors went haywire while the room darkened. You and Barry were nowhere in the room.

“Barry!” Iris screamed a second after he had sped you away.

***

Eobard raked a hand through his dark locks, analyzing the future article again. He fiddled with his rightful Reverse Flash emblem in his hands, his fingers tracing over the single lightning bolt. It took the genius a full day to extract the SS emblem from his suit, but with your help he was able to detonate it a safe distance away in some open fields. While the people of Central City slept and you had assured Eobard that the Labs were vacant, the speedster had rushed into his old office and compiled all the documents he needed to keep out of Barry’s hands. He’s honestly surprised Team Flash hadn’t rifled thus far into the records he kept. The only things missing were speed theories and the equation escalation to the Speed Formula. Although, he had solved that issue for Barry two years ago when he had traveled back in time for an answer on getting faster.

Still such a naïve child, not at all like the Flash from my future. Arranging some papers together on his new office desk, without meaning to Eobard had knocked over a picture frame. The breaking of glass caught his attention, craning his neck to see the fallen frame. The frame held a picture of you and him from before the Particle Accelerator exploded around Christmas. Before you had known his secret. But now the frame was adorned with a fierce crack through you. Eobard’s mouth went dry, knowing that superstitions were just superstitions, but he couldn’t exactly place the rush of fear welling in his body.

“Gideon, pull up (Y/N)’s location.” Eobard pulled his glasses off smoothly as the AI did as told. She was at the labs. “Access the live feed cameras.” Gideon pulled up holo-images 8x8 of what seemed to be a further escalating scene between you and Barry through STAR Labs. Gritting his teeth, Eobard summoned his suit and launched himself forward into it. The Negative Speedforce fueled by his anger and hate pumped dangerously in his veins.

Barry Allen will regret the day he dared to lay a hand on you.

***

“You’re a traitor!”

“Speak for yourself.” You grunted against the wall, your electric blade dissipating in your hand. It was getting harder to breathe, to keep up with his movements. With speedsters, you preferred long-range combat, but you had to make due at times. “You’re the one who betrayed everyone first for your own selfish desires. Flashpoint, the cause of so much pain and misery. In the end, there was so much collateral damage, and you were the cause of so many lives lost.”

“Flashpoint should have wiped you away. You should have been thankful. We helped you,” Barry fumed, pressing his forearm harder against your throat. “We stood by you.”

“They stood by me.” You tried channeling your electricity, even to siphon off a lick of his in order to produce a dagger, but to no avail. Only sparks flickered from the tips of your fingers, “You couldn’t stand the sight of me when you brought me in.” You had no grievances towards anyone else other than Barry. Not Iris, not Caitlin, not Joe, not Cisco. Certainly not Ralph simply because he’s new. And not towards Harry and Jesse. Iris and Caitlin were the two people who kept you the most grounded to the world for they understood the loss of a loved one and the process of moving on.

“You’re damn right I couldn’t. I was wrong to have let you stay around after Iris and Caitlin rehabilitated you.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make, now, was it?”

“You’re a monster just like Thawne. You’re not a hero.”

You simply spit blood in Barry’s face. “I’m neither thief nor hero.” You were kind of enjoying pushing his buttons, releasing all those pent-up emotions and frustration over the years. Wiping his face clean with his sleeve, the speedster sped you out of the room, throwing punches and kicks at you. He had run you through the entirety of STAR Labs. You siphoned off passing energy from computers and lightbulbs to throw at him Palpatine-style when there was distance between you two, but there was only so much you could do in your current condition. You were getting tired; you couldn’t keep up. Every burst of electricity that burned him had drained you. Blood continued to trickle from the side of your face and sweat glistened on your skin. You healed fast, but he healed much faster.

“Barry, stop! You’re going to kill her.” Iris shouted with a gun in her hand, the others piling into the room. Cisco threw a wave blast at Barry and Frost aimed a couple of icicles his way, but the speedster had dodged them. The scarlet speedster tossed you to the ground like a bag of peanuts before turning to the others. You skidded to the side, breathing in deeply then coughed up some blood into your fist. Blood continued to trickle from the side of your face and sweat glistened on your skin. You could feel your cheek swell as well as an ache form in your chest, maybe a few cracked ribs. Could potentially puncture your lungs if this didn’t end soon.

“And why shouldn’t I? For all we know, she could be spying on us for Thawne.”

“Barry killing her won’t solve anything,” Harry shot at him with his pulse rifle to create some distance between you two before training it on you. “It’ll just make things worse.” You met his eyes, and you could see the disappointment in them. A tinge of guilt hit you, but you pushed past it as you stood on unsteady feet. Your body felt like it was made of lead, but you continued on. If this is how things are to be, then so be it.. You leaned against the wall, cradling your damaged ribcage, as Harry continued. “Regardless of her actions, she did keep Iris and Felicity safe in her own way, she still stood by us.” You were finding it extremely hard to breathe, to stay conscious. Your breathing slowed, the noise in the room between Team Flash was reduced to murmuring to your ears. Did I burst an eardrum too?

“Are you kidding me, Wells? How can you say that when-”

You blinked before collapsing onto the ground, a streak of red had filled your vision. Eobard pinned Barry to the wall, his hand squeezing at his throat while red hot anger filled his vision. “Good to see you again so soon, Flash,” the yellow speedster drawled with a rough grin in his distorted voice. “It seems like you overstepped your boundaries.” Eobard kicked Barry in the ribs and landed a few speed punches, the scarlet speedster already exhausted from his fight with you. “Isn’t this position nostalgic?” Barry was clawing at Eobard’s firm grip, suspending the young hero in the air against the wall as he had done years ago.

“I- had a feeling... you’d show up, Thawne,”

Licking your bloodied lips, you groaned as you leaned up with hoarseness in your voice, “Eo, don’t.” The man in yellow stopped, slowly turning his quaking gaze towards you. You held his gaze for as long as you could get the message through to him. “Enough.” Eobard retracted a fist that was to make contact on Barry’s face, but not before squeezing the scarlet speedsters throat tightly and throwing him towards the upper part of the speed lab. Eobard took off his cowl and generated his speed to be by your side, eyeing every cut and bruise on your broken skin. Your eyes drooped shut when he brushed the back of his gloved hand against your unwounded cheek. His eyes softened, but his insides clenched. Iris and Caitlin had run to where Barry laid while Harry and Cisco monitored Eobard with caution as he gently scooped you in his strong arms.

Standing up with your limp form, the speedster disregarded Cisco, yet glared coldly at his supposed doppelganger. The future genius then turned to them and spoke, “My love for her is what stopped me this time. Next time,” his eyes landed on Barry, “you won’t be so lucky. Lay a hand on her again and I won’t hesitate to end your miserable life, Flash.” His eyes flashed red as they met Barry’s for the last time before taking his leave in a wake of red electricity.

***

Eobard stopped his vibrational intimidation once he made it to your temporary home, Gideon had already prepared the necessary diagnostic tests that would need to be conducted to assess your health. Laying you on the gurney gently, he kissed your forehead before proceeding. The speedster had cleaned you up, replacing your burnt clothes and scrubbing the dried remnants of blood on your skin. His heart shattered. His blood turned to ice. Eobard’s baby blues scanned every part of your marred skin. Lines that tallied up right after another, scars that were too stubborn to heal correctly as if trying to serve as a reminder. Eobard’s mouth had dried as his thumb made featherlight touches before injecting the needle into the correct vein. The speedster opened his mouth and closed it, but he could not register any other emotion other than anger and guilt. His thoughts funneled fluidly, emphasizing that one certain cause that led to this escalation. His death had been the cost of your mental and physical state.

Never again. The speedster peppered kisses along your arms as all the implied images ran through his mind. A tear slipped out. It fell from his face onto the scarred tissue. My love. He needed to get back to work. With classical music dancing in the background, Eobard conducted a blood transfusion in order to replace the blood you had lost as well as administering IV fluids. He had to steal the materials from a hospital nearby in Keystone. They won’t be missing it.

“According to my current readings, copious amounts of stress have been exuded onto her heart allowing her to retain a constant distressed state.” Gideon rattled on as Eobard sat next to you with a sleeve rolled up. He glanced over at you as the AI continued. “The X-ray scans have also been completed. She’s suffering trauma in her ribcage, a few cracked ribs, however none are broken. CT results also conclude a mild concussion.”

She’s lucky her lungs hadn’t been punctured. His hate for Barry Allen grew with every second that you laid unconscious.

“How long until a full recovery?”

“Physically it could take up to 3-6 weeks regarding her ribs. The mild concussion will take approximately almost a week and a half. Her heart might take longer. Therefore, she must avoid extraneous activity.”

“Such as using her powers and so on.”

“Yes. Shall I assist you with anything else today, Professor Thawne?”

Eobard ran his fingers over his lips before taking his glasses off and throwing them onto the side of a nearby table. “Keep tabs on Barry Allen’s movements, I want to be alerted if he comes near Keystone or has any intention of it.” The AI nodded before shuttering away into the plinth. Yes, the speedster had been smart to chip him, something Eobard had easily gotten rid of. But to chip you as well, Thawne cursed himself for not seeing it coming. Too preoccupied with the timeline and it’s malleability. “Hopefully DeVoe will keep him away long enough.”

***

Your eyelids felt like they had been cemented shut, the stinging smell of antiseptic slapped you right in the face. Am I dead or in a hospital? A groan left your lips, your throat dry as a desert and craving any drips of water. I hope I’m not in a hospital, I hate those places. The nice thing was that a light wasn’t blinding you, at the very least not piercing through the darkness supplied by your shut eyelids. It was oddly soothing. Your mind finally processed the dull ache residing in your bones, the softness beneath you and the slight chill in the air. Maybe I am dead. Taking one slow breath in, your blood vessels throbbed louder with each fluid pumped through and the humming of machines finally registered to your ears. You didn’t want to open your eyes; you were content with just laying here.

“…” You frowned, the sound of mumbling coming to you. Who was that? “Gi… ru-… I-.” Death, perhaps? You twitched your fingers, a numb sensation set in both your arms. If I’m dead, how can I still feel? It took a moment for your brain to catch you up on how you’d been reduced to such a state. Barry… killed me? No, that’s- Eo was… You shakily formed a fist only to feel something cool against your skin. Felt like another hand. Not bony. Maybe Death gave the appearance of a human for us to pass.

“Mm,” you tried clearing your throat, but it hurt each time, inducing a coughing fit. Blinking wearily, you looked around, your vision blurry until it settled on the being the hand had belonged to. “Mm, I…”

“Shh,” the deep voice cooed. You could hear much more clearly now but couldn’t make out the image of the being. “I have some water for you,” you felt a straw tap your lips. “Drink up.”

Why is Death being so kind to me? I thought Death was swift. You drank a sip at a time before pulling back and shutting your eyes once more. The somatosensory neurons on your arms brushed against some coarse material. A blanket? That same cool touch caressed your cheek. You blinked your eyes open a few times, dizziness ensnaring your mind, but your eyes met icy blue ones. “Eo?”

“I’m here,” he whispered in a gentle tone, standing up from where he sat next to you.

“I’m not dead.”

“No, you’re very much alive”

“Barry, he…”

“I’ve dealt with him. He won’t ever hurt you again.” You watched as he kissed your bandaged hands, each finger receiving a kiss. Cracking your neck, your realized he had changed you into fresh clothes. The scent of faint lavender hung onto the fabric.

“How long was I out?”

“Two weeks.”

It hurt your head when your eyes bugged out. You patted your temples lightly. “Two weeks? What- I-I need to get back. They were going to confront DeVoe. Harry and-”

“No,” Eobard pressed his palm against your shoulder when you tried to sit up abruptly, “You need to rest. Screw Team Flash. For once, just let them be so you can recover.” The speedster did not ask for what had happened to you, knowing the implications in his mind were too strong to be false. Rather, he’d make sure it would not occur a second time

“It’s not that simple, Eo.”

“It really is,” the yellow speedster sighed to himself, rubbing his face. You gestured to the water, and he handed the cup to you. “You’re in no condition to go back there, not after what happened. Your powers and your fight did a number on you. I-…. Your heart stopped a couple of times.” You almost choked on your sip. “I had to jumpstart your heart and keep it going.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For worrying you.” For being a liability that Barry can use.

“Don’t. This,” he gestured with his hands between you and him, “is not something to apologize for. Ever. If anything, it was smart of him to use you for bait as I had used Iris and Eddie.” You pressed your lips into a thin line as your mind started to wander.

“So, we wait?”

Eobard nodded as you ran a hand through you knotted hair. Need to brush that out asap. “We wait until it’s time to strike.”

“Until it’s time for you to strike. I’m remaining neutral in whatever it is between you and Barry in the future. Even if he might not see it that way.” Tipping the scales, balancing good and evil natures in the forces of the world. That’s what He told me my role in the multiverse is along with...

“I know, my love.” I don’t know how to break this to her. “But until then, rest.” If I ask her to come with me, would what I orchestrate then work?

“Eobard.”

“Hm?” Eobard knew he needed to go back to sort a few things out. Chances of getting caught were roughly 30-70, but not zero.

You shifted over to make room for him, patted the spot next to you. “Stay.”

Or would she become collateral damage?

“Always.” The speedster leaned down to kiss your lips before moving in beside you. You laid your head on his chest, minding the slight tremors of pain. Eobard kissed the top of your head and you shut your eyes. You’d go to the ends of the multiverse for him, but you’d also protect your friends. Being at odds with Barry wouldn’t stop you. He just needed to learn to live with your choices as everyone else has had to live with his.

Eobard’s mind ran through every scenario, deciding it’s best to tell you what he intends to do. He’d rather you decide for yourself what to do. The negative speedster respected the position you held onto. Neutrality wasn’t always an easy feat, but he admired your devotion towards him and the ones you love. Eobard was just selfish enough to only want and care for you. He didn’t need anyone else. He certainly didn’t need camaraderie. Tomorrow, he’d tell you. Tomorrow, he’d make sure to take the first step towards ensuring the future.

Betrayal is a fickle thing, Barry Allen. A lesson you will learn again.

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agentrouka-blog · 3 years ago

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what do you think about obara?

Hi there!

Obara would be my third favorite Sand Snake after Sarella and Elia.

Obara Sand always walked too fast. She is chasing after something she can never catch, the prince had told his daughter once, in the captain's hearing. (AFFC, The Captain of Guards)

My goodness, what could it be?

Oh, right. Her mother. Her identity. Her sense of self.

She is the reason I can never ever truly like Oberyn.

“I am the whore's whelp, or had you forgotten?" (AFFC, The Captain of Guards)

No matter how heartbreaking Oberyn’s determination to get justice for Elia’s murder, I can never forgive him for this.

"The day my father came to claim me, my mother did not wish for me to go. 'She is a girl,' she said, 'and I do not think that she is yours. I had a thousand other men.' He tossed his spear at my feet and gave my mother the back of his hand across the face, so she began to weep. 'Girl or boy, we fight our battles,' he said, 'but the gods let us choose our weapons.' He pointed to the spear, then to my mother's tears, and I picked up the spear. 'I told you she was mine,' my father said, and took me. My mother drank herself to death within the year. They say that she was weeping as she died." Obara edged closer to the prince in his chair. "Let me use the spear; I ask no more."

(AFFC, The Captain of Guards)

Oberyn not only suddenly came to take her away from her mother. He did not come to offer her a “better life”, or do his duty to her as her father.

He made her choose.

He demonstrated an absolutely despicable abuse of power. He shows up out of the blue after presumably no contact and no support, assaults and humiliates her mother, a woman already on the very edge of society, and then makes Obara choose between this distorted image of victimized weakness, and his own power. Female tears vs. his phallic symbol. It’s a false dichotomy, the birth place of “not like other girls”, of internalized misogyny, of self-hatred.

She cannot have both. She cannot love both. She must disdain one to reap any benefit from the other. It is a horrifying violation. He erases half of her identity by dragging it through the dirt and creating a clear distinction between himself and his offer, and the woman who has been Obara’s caretaker all her life up to then. Her own mother. Her own sex.

We know that the young red-haired prostitute died trying to save her daughter, little Barra, while Robert had not lifted a finger to support them, and only had scorn for the girl’s choice of name. Was she weak?

Even her mother’s grief and desperate end is turned into a weapon against Obara, instead of proof of her mother’s love, it is proof of her mother’s supposed worthlessness. She must hate her mother because to stop would be to recognize that her father, her sole source of security in the world, was a monster to do this. She must cling to this phallic symbol of a weapon because Oberyn tainted all alternatives. The whore’s whelp she calls herself, spitting on her mother every time.

When she arrives at Sunspear to confront Doran about Oberyn’s death, she asks for troops and permission to sack Oldtown. Her hometown. For the wealth of the Hightowers, supposedly, but somehow her first instinct upon the news of her father’s demise is to attack the place she herself came from, her mother’s city. Begging to use the spear.

Perhaps it is the only way she knows how to express her pain, as Oberyn stole her tears. Self-destruction.

Even Nymeria understands there is a personal motive outside of Oberyn’s death.

“Obara would have me go to war.”

Nym laughed. “Yes, she wants to set the torch to Oldtown. She hates that city as much as our little sister loves it.” (AFFC, The Captain of Guards)

Obara is the only one of the elder Sand Snakes for whom GRRM constructs this kind of look back at her "acquisition" into the royal family, and I sincerely doubt that it is accidental. It is the one that matters, the one that is the most illustrative.

Nymeria has her noble Volantene mother’s beauty and bearing.

Tyene is said to carry her mother’s innocent appearance, and received a religious education at least thorough enough to enable her to “ingratiate herself” with the new high septon. It is, of course, a cynical facade.

Sarella proudly practices the marksmanship of the Summer Islanders of her mother’s heritage.

But Elia and Obara both show the real cracks that counter this hazy facade of the fierce Eight Sand Snakes, liberal Oberyn‘s loyal and independent daughters. They are all an extravagant self-indulgence on Oberyn’s part, created wherever he went and then picked up like a shiny tourist trinket. They all must revolve around him, the reflections of Oberyn in the looking glass of their mothers.

No," Elia broke in. "You're the one they'll want to ransom. You're the heir to Dorne, I'm just a bastard girl. Your father would give a chest of gold for you. My father's dead." (TWOW, Arianne II)

Elia, bless her, has her mother to lean on and still she keenly feels the legal reality of her position. Obara does not even have that.

Sarella out of all the elder Sand Snakes, seems to be the most emotionally independent. She is the only one NOT around all the others in Dorne, and while she follows her father’s footsteps in Oldtown, she practices her mother‘s traditional archery and emphasizes her.

Alleras smiled back at him. "I only buy for friends. And I am no lord's son, I've told you that. My mother was a trader." (AFFC, Prologue)

This healthier balance, this valuing regard for her mother’s heritage (unlike Tyene's pretense) is what makes Sarella truly remarkable to me. She is not hot-headed nor does she seem to be boiling with a thinly veiled fury. She does not seem to advocate for murder, but we see her muse about feeding the people. She is serene, like the black swans on the Godseye, like the swanships, with a steady hand and a sure intention. Whatever exactly that intention may be. Ironically, sexism forces Sarella into a masculine role, as well. But it is a deliberate mask, elegantly worn. Freely worn. Unlike Obara's struggle.

The character in whom I see most parallels with Obara Sand is Jon Snow in his current iteration.

Ned, well-meaning though he may have been, robbed Jon of half of his identity and left him with an image that is considered tainted by the world around him. His mother is as inaccassible as Obara’s mother, emotionally, though for different reasons. Their father’s choices left both of them emotionally crippled to a degree. One mother was erased by silence, rendered invisible. The other, worse, was erased by violent and verbal degradation.

Consequently, it is Obara we see the most seemingly “unhinged”, when she is introduced, the most overtly violent, the most “unfeminine”. This is not an expression of personal taste, nor a handy mask. It is a grim adherence to the choice she was offered.

She is almost thirty, and came to Dorne almost two decades earlier, well before Elia’s murder.

"It has been twenty years, or near enough to make no matter.” (AFFC, The Captain of Guards)

She was somewhere between Sansa’s and Arya’s current age when Elia was killed. Does she perceive the contradiction in Oberyn living for vengeance for Elia, when he treated her own mother not so very very differently? He did not kill her truly, but he erased her just the same, with a violent contempt. A "weak woman", with only tears for weapons, her child ripped from her.

If Obara sees it, she is not letting on. She craves violence. She craves an expression of power to put something where tears might have their place. The way she was taught.

Of course, it would be boring if that is where it was truly headed. Much like Aegon and Jon, much also like Asha Greyjoy who adapted to an extremely male-dominated society, Obara would probably benefit from turning away from her father's looming shadow to a certain degree. I have some hope that GRRM will make room to explore it.

Obara is given a quest of justice and distraction: Darkstar. "Beard him in his den", as Arianne travels to "beard the dragon".

Your Speculation here (by @sayruq) is extremely interesting, placing Obara in the line of defense of peaceful children at the watergardens. The same children she had dismissed earlier, like the child she was not allowed to be. Wielding that spear not for vengeance or self-glorification but in the way it should be wielded: to defend those soft weak things that are precious.

I really hope this is where it's headed, and I really hope she will find her peace in that role.

#obara sand #anti oberyn martell #sexism #violence #sand snakes

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wesimpforxiao · 4 years ago

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 9.1

Author’s Note: Short chapter. My anxiety has gotten really bad and I’m busy so I could use some virtual hugs haha

"You dared to deceive an archon?"

The bellow hung heavy in the morning air, but Childe didn't flinch. "Oh? If my memory serves me correctly, you were all for my plan." A slight excitement rushed within his chest at the thought of the possibility of fighting an archon today. The joy he would feel! To have the privilege of testing his strength against a former god--

"Don't play games with me," Zhongli growled, his infuriated gaze sliding to the brat that was more than amused at his ill-composed state. Archons, the consultant was trying so hard not to summon a meteor this instant--something his past self would've done without a moment of hesitation. "You nearly--"

"I never claimed to be one of the good guys, sensei."

Zhongli bit the inside of his lip until he drew blood and his eyes glowed a threatening yellow that was far too similar to the Exuvia. He so desperately wanted to run Childe into the ground, to pummel him with the same spears that defeated Osial himself. To do so would mean the complete and utter destruction of the harbor that sat below them, as they were on the hill behind the Liyue Qixing's headquarters. The sun beat down on them harshly as if to mirror Zhongli's rage.

"I have my own agenda to fulfill, in the end." Something somewhat apologetic flashed in the harbinger's eyes before he looked out to the vast sea, still unflinching from Zhongli's threatening aura.

"You have broken a contract. A breach in trust. Do you know what this means for you?" I'll end him right here. As a cost for the Tsaritsa to pay for breaching--No. Zhongli took a deep breath to quell the raging tides of fury that swirled in his being. No. The Tsaritsa broke no contract. I willingly gave Xiao after being played like a fool by Childe. That's right. Anger consumes all rational thought; Zhongli could not allow himself to make the same mistakes. To do so would surely destroy any concept of safety for you and Xiao.

"I will fight to the death if you see it fit, Mr. Zhongli." The corner of his lips curled slightly upwards after hearing the anger in the consultant's voice, but they downturned again as he turned to face the man. "But, as I see it, I have learned from that...experience in Fontaine."

Zhongli's hard gaze remained unwavering as stone.

"Mezzetin..." Childe returned to his view of the ocean. "...has been in too dark of a place as of late. I had deceived you in an effort to protect her from your yaksha; his presence seemed to have too negative of an impact on her. So I thought, for her benefit, I would recruit her into the Fatui for her own safety. From Xiao, and from the unrelenting forces of Snezhnaya. She wouldn't have to live in fear of us as long as she was with us.

"But then another side effect showed up and I realized I had made a mistake for deceiving you, Mr. Zhongli. I was mistaken to think that the yaksha was the problem instead of the distance between the pair. That, dear sensei, is why I brought her here for the Lantern Rite."

While he's speaking from the heart, he is still being untruthful. The archon stood unmoving, rage reigniting a little until a memory of Guizhong flashed in his mind. He wouldn't bring her to Liyue without another motive.

"I'm speaking honestly, Mr. Zhongli." Childe didn't even hold his signature smile across his lips; he was dead serious. "While this excursion most definitely benefits the Tsaritsa, I only brought Mezzetin for her own wellbeing."

Zhongli still wasn't buying it, and he approached Childe until he was at his ear. His low voice had to have dropped an octave lower while he maintained his composed but threatening demeanor. "The next time you cross me or seek to harm those in our group, you will join Osial below Guyun Stone Forest."

The threat was enough to send a slight chill down Childe's spine, as reluctant as he would admit it, but the harbinger grinned darkly nonetheless. After all, how could a measly chill overpower the thrill of battle he always got? It egged him on, but...he did consider Zhongli a comrade more than a means to an end for the Tsaritsa. One that he didn't want to lose, even if he was still pissed that the consultant had deceived him for being a human and not the Lord of Geo.

The archon began to brush past Childe, when the harbinger gripped his shoulder to keep him in place. "Mark my words, Mr. Zhongli. When the time comes, you will be relying on me once more."

What? Zhongli rotated his head, but Childe had already let go of his shoulder and started to walk off. He would've perceived the statement as the threat that it was, if it weren't for the different fluctuations in Childe's voice. Was that melancholy he sensed? Guilt? Uncertainty? Zhongli narrowed his eyes as he watched the harbinger scale off the mountain with his glider.

Perhaps that was enough to get through to him, Childe thought to himself without peering over his shoulder. He didn't dare say too much. The Tsaritsa will get what she needs for her war; what's it to her if he moves a few chess pieces across the board himself? This is the only time he would ever allow to make such a daring exception. As long as you and Aether didn't try to intervene down the line, then maybe he could bring you freedom...

That was a cry for help, Zhongli found himself dumb-founded. Childe's figure was now a spec in the distance and near touchdown in the plaza.

.......................

"Will you two cut it out already?!" You had thought that the subject had long passed, but apparently Aether had no mercy teasing you as he had always teased Paimon. "We didn't do anything! How many times do I have to say that?" You drew a deep breath to keep up with your mouth. "Or do I have to whack it into you?!"

"Hm, dunno, Paimon thinks denial is even more suspicious than silence!"

"Ugh, why did you have to go and say we 'slept together...'" Your head dropped into your hands in an exasperated manner, eyebrows furrowing together with the threat of an impending headache.

"Mortals make too large of a fuss over such trivial matters. It was really nothing," Xiao scoffed at the traveler and the weird floating thing he still couldn't figure out. It was then that he remembered your odd behavior in bed this morning, and how you were exhibiting the same redness now. "Though...I do have a few questions. Why do humans flush red at the most random of times?"

"EH?!" Your hand instinctually flew to his mouth, nearly covering up--except the yaksha caught your wrist before you had the chance to prevent him from saying anything else that could be perceived the wrong way. "What are you--?! Just stop talking!"

"Like now," Xiao noted aloud, completely oblivious to the dumb-founded shock--or what could've been exasperated horror--on Aether's and Paimon's faces.

"Think of it as a defense mechanism," Childe approached the group, completely lacking the tension from earlier. "Or as an indicator for lying."

"'Lying?'" Xiao looked unconvinced as his eyes met yours. You definitely didn't flush red when lying.

"Well, in some settings," Childe let out a chuckle before plopping his hand atop your head. It wouldn't be inaccurate to think that Xiao nearly summoned his weapon and thought of slicing his hand off right then and there. "Are you ready to go?"

"Go? But you said tomorrow." Lips pursed into an irritated pout as you turned to face him, nonchalantly pushing his hand off of you in the process. "And Zhongli said something about a possible del-"

"The matter is settled." Was it just you, or was his smile a little strained?

"And if we don't let you take her back?" Aether stepped forward. A few pedestrians glanced his way while passing the group.

"Oh? Is this your way of asking me for a fight? I'd be happy to humor you."

"You can't take all three of us at once," the boy took another step forward, this time lowering his stance as if he were ready to lunge at the harbinger. Paimon egged him on.

"Will you two stop with this macho contest?" Your growl seemed to snap them out of it. "No one is fighting. I left with the harbingers to prevent that from happening."

"If the lady insists." Child winked at Aether, who scoffed in turn. Then he faced you once more. "As for the sudden change in our depart, I simply changed my mind. Meet at the Northland Bank. You have one hour."

.....................

"One hour?!?!" You were still fuming over the smug smile that had tugged at the corner of Childe's lips after the three of you parted from him. "What...What am I supposed to do in an hour?! I swear I'm gonna--"

"Paimon thinks we should take him out now!"

"Why are you so bloodthirsty when it comes to Childe?" Aether reminded her to keep her voice down, suddenly conscious of the stares you were all getting.

"Why aren't you? He's lied to us, hurt us, and now he's hurting our friends! Paimon simply can't accept that!"

Aether had long since tuned Paimon's voice out and was focused on you and Xiao instead. The lack of eye contact between the two of you made it blatantly obvious there were some things to discuss privately. "We'll let you have some alone time."

"Huh? Why're you leaving?" You spun on your heel with a confused expression, whirling to a stop once you faced the boy. "Shouldn't we all be together before I--"

"You'd rather not be alone with your boyfriend before you leave?" A confused, innocent tilt of the head sent you into another wave of embarrassment.

"B-boyfriend?!"

"Hold up! You're telling Paimon you're embarrassed by THAT even though you two--"

"Boy...friend...?" Xiao's face twisted in clear disgust as if he had eaten something sour, the words being carefully sounded out. You were his companion. What is this 'boy friend' term being flung around all of a sudden? "I've lived for a millennia and you dare refer to me as a child? Have you no respect for the adepti?"

"U-um!" Your stammer caught the attention of his narrowed eyes, and his gaze softened slightly. "Just ignore them. It's not a bad term or anything of the sort," you sent a pleading glance Aether's way so he wouldn't reveal the meaning of the word. Boyfriend...ah, I guess he is now...! Despite your heated cheeks, a flutter of excitement pressed against your chest at the thought and you broke eye contact with the yaksha.

"Yeah, you two need to talk about that," Aether laughed before turning serious. "Be careful. If you need help, Xiao can hear you, right? You just need to pray to him and--"

You nodded, "I know," and gifted him with a grim smile. "Don't worry about me. Focus on finding your sister. I'll figure out a way to deal with the Tsaritsa sooner or later." You pulled him into a tight hug, yanking Paimon out of the air to envelope her in one too. "I'll come back."

"That better be a promise you won't break."

"I swear it on my Granny's grave." The three of you released one another and stepped back. You waved them goodbye as they ran in the direction of the funeral parlor before turning to Xiao. "So..."

Xiao crossed his arms and shifted his weight onto his other foot, closing his eyes in a somewhat pensive manner. "Is there anything you wanted to do before you leave?"

#xiao x reader #genshin x reader #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact #zhongli genshin impact #childe genshin impact #tartaglia genshin impact

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ironwoodprotectionsquad · 3 years ago

Note

Penny being trans + autistic coded made me resonate with her as I am nonbinary and autistic myself. Her being a robot felt like me when I have to hide my neurodivergent traits. Her getting confirmation that she wasn't just a robot/machine but a real girl felt so validating. I don't have to look like everyone else to still be considered "real".

Ironwood's semblance being literal hyperfixiation, something I've dealt with since I have ADHD + autism would have made me feel better about myself. This is a man who, despite everything: his PTSD, being an amputee, still was a kind-hearted man. This is something rarely seen in media. I was happy.

Then they fucked up both Penny and Ironwood in ways that struck me. Penny is hacked into and forced to comply with basically forced suicide- she was to open the vault, then self-destruct.

Ironwood, oh dear god. They couldn't wait to fuck him over. He was so HAPPY to see team RWBYJNROQ. He told them everything about his plan, trusting them with literal GOVERNMENT secrets, giving them a place to stay, FREE weapon upgrades (Atlas is known for its advanced technology), hell even gave them their HUNTRESS LICENSES THREE-ISH YEARS EARLY (which Ruby later uses as a credibility source in her broadcast, which was eerily similar to Cinder's in Volume 3, when she says IRONWOOD CANNOT BE TRUSTED.)

Not to mention that she conveniently forgot she was calling for help from OTHER KINGDOMS. OF COURSE they wouldn't arrive soon enough. And no one had reason to trust her. She's a nobody. She was at the Vytal Festival and her team made it all the way to the singles? Cool. Ruby wasn't the final fighter, hell after the 4 vs 4 match she didn't compete further.

Blake would have obviously been a bad choice: she's a faunus and if anyone knows about the White Fang, they might recognize her.

Yang is more known than Ruby, but the world saw her kick an unarmed teen in the finals round. She doesn't have too good a reputation.

Weiss? She's well known as the Heiress, but also her singing. Having her give the speech is a mixed bag: on one hand, she's a recognizable face. On the other, that's a problem. Her father, the CEO of the SDC, is known for his cruelty. Blake said it herself way back in Volume 1: questionable business practices and partners.

So... How about no broadcast at all? What did her broadcast accomplish?

Nothing. Help didn't arrive and likely caused more panic. Plus, people still had a negative view of Atlas, as the last thing the world saw was Atlesian soldiers turning against civilians.

The last broadcast was before Beacon fell. So likely another hacker giving a message would be met with fear.

And what attracts Grimm? Negativity.

Ruby's broadcast could have been a DEATH SENTENCE to so many. But no, this is treated as the... Right course of action?

Ruby and co. hates Ironwood's plan, yet it's clear they don't have one. RWB spends a lot of time moping around the manor drinking tea. Team YOJR (Yang, Oscar, Jaune and Ren) actually DO SOMETHING. Oscar gets kidnapped and they chase after him. Ren rightfully points out that NONE OF THEM SHOULD BE DOING THIS. But that goes against the Hivemind™, so he must apologize and agree to whatever the fuck Ruby decides to do.

Which is NOTHING! RWBY didn't even take down the hound: WILLOW and WHITLEY did. A drunk woman and an unarmed teen defeated it.

Oscar is the one who blows up the whale (with his time bomb? huh??)

Ruby whines that it's all too much, cries on a staircase while her sister (remember that Ruby and Yang are related????) comforts her. The scene has no emotional depth because the two barely interact anymore.

OH GOD AND WHEN YANG TAKES A HIT FROM NEO THAT WAS MEANT FOR RUBY IT TAKES HER OUT COMPLETELY. AURA? GONE. HELL, SHE'S EVEN UNCONSCIOUS. I swear it's like the animation budget could only afford to have ONE character react, and it's Blake "sad kitty face" Belladonna. Not Ruby, who is her sister. WHO HAS A SPEED SEMBLANCE. But no, they just watch her fall, not knowing if she's alive.

Ruby has more of a reaction to CRESCENT ROSE, HER FUCKING WEAPON falling.

Which is retconned so hard in the Vol 9 trailer, where she tells Neo "I hope it was worth it" before falling into the void. Huh??

Anyways I'm rambling again but I am so angry!

-🎼

Never, ever, EVER apologize for rambling. I LOVE hearing peoples thoughts and sometimes it's a really nice feeling to let out your frustrations and anger towards something that has caused you harm and it really REALLY sounds like this caused you a lot of harm and so I do not blame you one bit for being hurt and angry. I should apologize for this taking so long. This was a lot and I needed to sort my thoughts and even so I probably missed some points so I also apologize for that.

Penny and Ironwoods biggest mistake was trusting and being kind to RWBY. They lied and betrayed James and treated him like garbage even though he showed them nothing but kindness and did whatever he could to help them and listened to them. Penny was told what to do and think far more so then James ever supposedly did. Ruby decided to give her a new body, decided she didn't like how James was treating her and that she thought James was a bad person, and decided that Penny was better off with them. Penny stopped being able to make her own decisions once she started hanging out with RWBY and co.

Really though what did they all think was going to happen when they sent out a message that matched beat to bear a lot of what Cinder said before Atlas fell? Did she think about the panic that would cause? Did she forget she was worried about Ironwood telling everyone back in Volume 7 because of the panic it would cause everyone??? Did that just conveniently slip her mind?

I honestly think Weiss would have been the best choice to give the broadcast of them all but I don't think they should have sent out the broadcast in the first place. It should realistically only cause panic and death but the narrative is gonna yadda yadda right past all of that.

Oh god yea RWBY and co complain and whine and scream that Ironwoods plan is bad whilst offering up no alternatives then just taking his plan and acting like it was theirs the whole time. They even did this in Volume 7 when in episode 2 they where worried about James telling Atlas about Salem and then turning around and acting all happy and shocked when James told everyone near the end of the season as if they wanted him to the whole time and not the other way around.

Man RWBY really did jack shit all volume huh? As you said all the major things side characters did: Fight James TWICE: Winter, Emerald, and JNRO.

Try and rescue Oscar: JRY

Blow up the Whale: Oscar

"Redeem" Hazel and Emerald: Again Oscar

Defeat the hound: Whitley and Willow

Launch the tower: Penny

Help defend Mantel against the swarm of Grimm: FNKI and the soldiers that all died trying to buy Ruby time while she cries in a mansion.

Like what does this girl do to help any of the people SHE trapped???

Oh god Ren, poor Ren, he's finally seeing the light but he can't stray from the Hivemind so he needs to get back in, we can't question the pure and perfect Ruby her plans are always right even if it causes Salem to get two relics and destroys the only kingdom with an army or the technology to restore global communications in the process.

Yea you're right like CRWBY can make excuses all day for why Ruby didn't react to Yang falling and MAYBE I can buy her not using her Semblance because she's in shock but not crying or reacting at ALL to her supposed death?? Why does her weapon get a more emotional response then her SISTER? Why is only BLAKE allowed to be sad about Yang supposedly dying? Why does fucking WINTER have more of a reaction to her sister dying?

Why are all the people we are supposed to be rooting for so fucking unlikeable???

#RWDE #Pro Ironwood #James Ironwood #RWBY Bashing #Pro James Ironwood #ironwood Protection Squad #penny polendina #Sorry for MY rambling #and more rambling to come most likely

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