#weapons don't weep

[wolfeyedwitch]

Weapons Don't Weep, Part 11

Chloe calls home.

Masterlist

---

“Hey, Mom. Yeah, we got it; thank you, as always. I would definitely have gone insane by now without the care packages.”

“Yeah, everything’s… no, you’re right, everything’s not okay. It’s all—”

A sniffle.

“It’s really bad. Like, really, really bad. I know I have the least experience on the team, but this is messing with all of us.”

“Well, by now you’ve seen the news about it. The city, with the protesters, and— yeah, that one. We… we were too late to catch it on the way in, but on the way out…”

“Mom, it wasn’t anything like we were expecting. None of our guesses were even close. It. When we got the door open, it…”

A pause followed, filled with harsh, shuddering breaths. 

“Mom, it was a person.” 

“Yeah. A living, breathing, flesh and blood person. I think this means Hayden wins that bet you guys made, about those rumors of people having superpowers.”

A shaky laugh.

“Yeah. I’m sure Dad is going to make that reference too. But this person, they’re not— they’re not doing this for fun. They didn’t choose this. They’re not… hell. I don’t think they’ve had any real choices for a long, long time.”

“They were chained up in there! They were in that transport, and instead of having a seat, they were chained to the floor like, like how you’d transport a bomb. When Zeke asked their name, they replied with a fucking serial number. And yes, I’m sorry for cussing, but I think this situation warrants a little leeway on language!”

A long sigh.

“No, they haven’t been aggressive. If anything, they’re so damn docile it’s creepy. I don’t know if it’s because of whatever propaganda Government told them about us, or if that’s how they’d act with anyone. They flinch from everything, and I haven’t heard them call anyone anything other than ‘sir’.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how you can help. Add some books on deprogramming brainwashing victims and clothes that’ll fit someone one size up from ‘Holocaust survivor’?  There’s so much, they need so much help, and I don’t even know where to start, Mom. And that’s not even touching on everyone else’s reaction.”

“Well, Zeke seems like he’s sympathetic, but that won’t change his actions if he decides they’re a threat. Riley is being pragmatic, and Tyler is, well, Tyler. It feels like the only person on my side here is the doc.”

“No, I didn’t even think of that. God, I’m so— no, sorry, you’re right, I won’t. No negative self-talk. I was preoccupied and didn’t think of how Zeke is going to have to report this and then we’re going to have the entire network breathing down our necks about them. Better?”

“I know it won’t change anything, but I don’t know how to just stop worrying, Mom. Not everyone is in this because of compassion.”

Another sigh. 

“Yeah, I got the extra from the people who were short-changed in that department. I just wish that caring didn’t hurt so much, sometimes.”

---

Sometimes compassion and empathy can be overwhelming. The world is a tough place, and it can be easy to let that get to you. Take care of yourselves, everyone.

Taglist:

@ghostfacepepper @kim-poce @badluck990 @cupcakes-and-pain @lonesome--hunter @wits-and-wrongs @neuro-whump @winedark-whump @aswallowimprisoned @rose-pinkie @whumpy-writings @whump-cravings @secretwhumplair @hobiisthesunfiteme @whumpcreations @myhusbandsasemni @heart4brains @kixngiggles @neverthelass @extrabitterbrain @towerlesskey @ohnowhump @vickytokio @whumpinggrounds @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @extemporary-whump @pigeonwhumps @ifurd4d @aswallowimprisoned @the-magpiesystem @someonecradlemeintheirarms @sacredwrath @whump-in-the-closet @whumpfessional

[overdressedcarp]

One thing I think about sometimes is that there's a dialogue chain in one of Ratio's text messages where he sends us the blueprints for what he explicitly describes as "an anti-planetary weapon design that [he] once devised," which apparently comes with the potential to turn into a full-on gundam???? He says that the necessary materials haven't been developed yet, but that the Guild is working on it and should have results within the next five Amber Eras.

For those who've read his third character story, the phrasing of "anti-planetary weapon" should register as both familiar and odd, especially considering how blasé he is in describing it to the Trailblazer.

My read on the character story is that the creation of the anti-planetary weapon was (whether consciously or not) a compromise to his principles in pursuit of Nous's gaze, and that the IPC's interest in said weapon was his reality check that he didn't want to become the sort of person who pursued knowledge without regard for human life. Even if you don't take that reading, Ratio is more than smart enough to recognize that the IPC can and has used threats like the Antimatter Legion and the Swarm as excuses to develop and unleash weapons with galaxy-scale collateral damage. (See: the Imaginary pulse weapon in this side quest on Penacony.)

When we ask for a weapon for the Express, Ratio tells us that high-caliber armaments are a necessity for traversing the cosmos, which isn't exactly wrong in light of how we deal with Sunday in Penacony, but turning the train into a battering ram is a far cry from turning it into something that could destroy a planet. The fact that the projected timeline is on a scale of Amber Eras suggests to me that he's being at least somewhat facetious about the idea of a collaboration, especially since the whole reason we're having the conversation is that he wanted us to lob thought experiments at him to distract him from work stress. But he does send us a blueprint file, and the terminology of an "anti-planetary weapon" (specifically one he designed in the past, rather than at our request) feels way too specific to be a coincidence.

I have a pet theory that the gundam design is a form of malicious compliance toward the IPC, and the reason the Guild can't even figure out the materials is because he deliberately handed them a nightmare monstrosity of a blueprint and then refused to elaborate.

(The bill of materials casually demands components that break the laws of physics. There are whole pages of math so complicated no one can parse enough of it to conclusively prove that it's bullshit and not just the revolutionary innovations of a man five Amber Eras ahead of his time. The research team sends a terrified intern to ask if the orbital laser cannon really needs to turn into a humanoid assault mech. He shakes his head and tells them that if they truly understood his work then they wouldn't ask such pointless questions.)

[little-earthquakes-rp]

@worldofsenelfy Continued from here:

Squinting he did his best to read her face, but she might as well have been playing poker because she didn't offer up one microexpression. Her effort to keep it straight was adorable, and he wholeheartedly laughed. Leaning in a bit he chewed his bottom lip trying to catch anything slip as she gave her second opinion. Teasingly he shook a finger at Jas before he admitted, "Well, considering I cooked it it's obviously the latter. Honestly, you're brave and kind." Standing back the smile still splayed before he asked, "So I won't be taking first prize in the chili cook-off?"

[belayadeath-goner]

BELAYADEATH. INDEPENDENT AND LOWKEY ORIGINAL CHARACTER. BASED OFF OF MARVEL'S EARTH 616 UNIVERSE, BUT ADAPTED TO OWN HEADCANONS AND LORE. DEVELOPED BY TEDDY. TWENTY⁵.

[truthsinwhispers]

People are soooooooooo quick to shit on people who deal with emotional disregulation it makes me fucking sick. When you express your stress through tears you're a crybaby. When you're quick to frustration, you're either overly dramatic or you're violent and scary. When you have the gall to get too happy, you're childish or straight up crazy.

Living with emotional disregulation comes with having to grow thick skin because people will call you every fucking name under the sun because you have the audacity to express emotions that are constantly ramped up to an eleven no matter which one you're feeling. You're loud, you're sensitive, you're overemotional, you're weak, you're soft, you're childish, you're naive, you're too much you're too much you're too much you're too much you're too much you're a burden because people now have to handle you.

Where do people think they have a right to judge others for feeling? I may be quick to express my emotions, but you're quick to judge and condemn and on a societal level that should be worse.

[chaoslulled]

headcanon: nicknames, petnames, endearments character: reiner braun

bold for something they're okay hearing; italicize for something they'd say

babe  love     darling     sweetheart     sweetie     hun     baby     my love dear     angel     sweetness     lovebug     soulmate     sunshine     handsome beautiful  my heart     honey     sweetpea     my person my favorite     mine     yours cutie     pumpkin     dearest     queen     sexy bitch     lover     hot stuff     princess     precious     stud     good-looking     toots     snookums     husband     wife     hubby     wifey     brother     bro     bruv     sister     sis     pal     asshat      bitch boy     hero     king   love of my life     starshine     muscle man     beloved      apple of my eye     master mcdreamy    mcsteamy     nugget     her/his/their majesty     funny man     angel eyes     old sport     girly     girlypop     missy     sir     mister     ma'am champ     doc     dude     dudette     buster     bruh     homie     smartass dipshit     goof     silly     bae     boo     bestie     twin     friend     lovely     doll    fucker soldier lord my liege

character specific

based on the name: there's not much space for adopting nicknames; his is pretty simple and straight forward. however, friends tend to shorten it to 'rei' (rye) at times. other than that, there's no real nicknames that he goes by. professional/educational titles: he wears military as a second skin, and has grown up going by braun, cadet, recruit, soldier. all of these are ones that make his spine straighten and makes him grind his teeth. they feel far too professional and far too much like trauma after everything. he also responds to warrior and armored. family: both karina and his father don't have nicknames for him in the least, or if they do, they aren't good ones. generally, he's heard it all from his father especially, including mistake and bastard son. he often hears disappointment when karina is behind walls and thinks that he can't hear. gabi simply calls him cousin. misc: in canon, he's heard it all as well, including the names that hurt far more: devil, traitor, murderer, killer. these are all ones that hit far too deep and that he compartmentalizes, but that haunt him when he tries to sleep at night. he tends to give more nicknames and endearments to those he's close to, for the sake that he never truly had them and wants people to feel special.

[space-sweetheart]

If ur curious the answer is I'm insane *adds dogma to my f/o list*

[haelimthewatcher]

HAELIM WORMWOOD ; for Neptunalia

Out celebrating Neptunalia with the city, enjoying the festival. Haelim has lived in Iskaldrik all his life and Nornwatch for 16 years so hot weather is not what he is used to, nor prepared for. He didn't get the memo it's be a lot hotter in the summer and around so many people so he might be suffering a little. But, with sword and many pockets, at least he's prepared for anything.

@thequeendomhqinspo

[pyro-madder]

being chronically bayobrained is so hard to live with. it's bleeding on every fandom i have. what if navis could beast within. what if some cyberworld mechanics required dancing. what if they ripped their core out and held it up for full synchro. what if th

[little-earthquakes-rp]

@worldofsenelfy (Jasmine & Boden)

I hope you find somebody who calls you beautiful like it’s your name and calls you just to tell you they love you and buys you flowers when you’re sad and always texts you back and has eyes for only you and treats you how you deserve to be treated

[wolfeyedwitch]

I bet Weapon will be very confused about getting anesthesia for the removal of that tracker! Will any of the team realize how confused they are?

Weapons Don't Weep, Part 10

So my plans changed from the original "remove the tracker" to "it makes more sense to put the tracker somewhere it wouldn't be safe to remove, so let's fry that sucker instead." Have some angst and miscommunications.

CW: living weapon whumpee, internalized dehumanization, it as a pronoun, panic attacks, implied touch starved whumpee. Please let me know if I missed anything, or if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Masterlist

---

The Weapon tried to sit still and think of nothing. It succeeded at only one of these tasks.

What were the terrorists planning? They said they were going to get rid of the tracker, but Command had always said that was impossible. And then they took not only radiographs, but a CT scan as well…

It wished it knew more about the scans than just how to best produce results. What were they looking for? 

No. No, no, no, it needed to stop these anomalous thoughts. They weren’t conducive to optimal functionality. It couldn’t predict the terrorists’ plans, and speculation only led to decreased efficacy of its biological system. It needed to stop, before it caused even more cortisol production. 

The Weapon turned its focus to breathing as evenly as possible and smoothing out its heart rate. 

After far too long and not nearly long enough, the leader and the doctor returned. 

“So,” the leader began. “Do you remember what we discussed earlier?”

“Yes, sir,” it said, voice a bare thread of sound. It was glad Command hadn’t heard it give such a paltry, feeble response to a question. 

A long moment passed. Was that not a good enough response? It had answered their question promptly, if quietly. It had been concise and not included anything more than asked of it. It knew better than to say anything other than what its handlers— no, these weren’t its handlers, but still. It knew better than to speak more than asked.

 One of the terrorists cleared his throat. The doctor picked up speaking where the leader had left off.

“Right,” he said. “As you recall, we said we were going to remove your tracker.”

“Yes, sir.” Non-negotiable, they had said. 

“The radiographs and CT scan were to give me a better idea of where exactly it is located,” he continued. “It’s in your right pleural space. That’s between your lung and ribs.”

The statement didn’t seem to require a response, so it remained silent.

“While Government has the resources to safely put a tracker in that location, I don’t have the resources to safely take it out.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

The Weapon’s chest was too tight. Its eyes filled with excess fluid even as it looked down to the floor. System malfunction. 

It’s trying to act human again. Make it cut that shit out.

So they were going to destroy it after all. That. That made more sense. Far more sense than the- the bullshit (the word was too crass and inaccurate for its reports, but it seemed appropriate for this situation) that they’d spouted off earlier. All the nonsensical things about giving it food and water and appropriate medical care. Like it was a person, not just a thing.

You aren’t human, darling. You’re a weapon. My weapon. And weapons don’t weep.

It was still malfunctioning, and it couldn’t make itself stop. Its breathing pattern was impeded by its chest refusing to expand properly. It bit its cheek viciously to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. 

The door opened with a clatter, and…

Was that the sound of wheels squeaking? 

“Weapon? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

That was Chloe’s voice. So she was going to be here for its destruction as well. It didn’t look up as it swallowed hard.

“Nigel was just telling them what he’d told us, about not taking the tracker out,” said the leader.

“Did you tell them the other part?” Chloe asked, tone not holding anything close to the proper respect for her superior officers. 

“Not yet,” the doctor said, sounding… defensive? That couldn’t be right. It must be misinterpreting that. “I was getting there.”

“Well, maybe you should have started with that,” Chloe said back, tone even less respectful. Was she not worried at all about the discipline these infractions would incur? “Now they’re not exactly in the right mindframe to listen!” 

Footsteps came closer, then a figure came into its blurry vision. 

“Weapon? It’s Chloe.” Her voice was soft. “I’m going to kneel down in front of you now.”

She did as she said, and it moved its eyes to avoid hers.

“Can you look at me, please?”

Since when did anyone say please to their weapon? 

It did as she asked. Asked, not ordered. The difference was jarring. It still avoided her eyes, but now it could see the birthmark creeping up her neck and the freckles liberally dotting her skin.

“Thanks,” she said. She smiled, though the Weapon didn’t understand why. What about this situation warranted that expression? 

The expression seemed to fold in on itself, somehow. When she spoke, it seemed to be more to herself than to it. 

“Okay. Okay, I can do this. Normally I’d touch, or at least ask, but… yeah, no. Okay.” Her tone got louder. “Weapon, can you please tell me five things you see?”

It blinked. An observational exercise? Now? For what purpose? 

It complied, even if it didn’t understand why. It didn’t have to understand; it just had to obey. Its breath hitched as it said, “Freckles. Birthmark. Blonde hair. Earrings.” 

It was at this point that it realized it probably should include things about the room, not just Chloe. “Um. Floor.”

“That’s… that’s really good. Good job,” she said. “Now four things you hear.”

Its voice was steadier this time. “You speaking. The… air conditioning?” Everything was so faint compared to the sound of blood rushing in its ears. What else, what else? 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry if you can’t get four, just… do your best,” Chloe said.

Of course it would do its best. It would never perform at less than peak efficacy. 

(Except when it did, when it malfunctioned, when it pretended to be— No. No, it wasn’t a person, and it wouldn’t try to pretend it was.)

“Electronics beeping,” it finally added. The noise was faint but audible.

She smiled again. “Yeah, I think three’s plenty. Well done.”

“Thank you? Sir.” It hastily added the proper form of address.

“Okay. So,” she said, “I’m glad you’re back with us. Let’s try this again, since Nigel didn’t break the news the best he could have.”

“My apologies, Weapon,” the doctor said. He even sounded like he meant it.

“First thing: we don’t want to hurt you,” Chloe said.

What?

“I should have made that clearer,” the doctor said. “I don’t often work with people in… difficult situations, so I wasn’t as sensitive as I should have been.”

What did people have to do with the situation? They were still talking about it, weren’t they?

“It’s like we said earlier,” the leader added. “Unless it’s necessary for the team’s safety, we aren’t going to do anything you don’t consent to. And even then, we will do our best to minimize any harm done to you.”

A quiet snort came from near the door.

Chloe turned towards the noise and said, “Shut the fuck up, Tyler.” Her voice was perfectly pleasant despite the harsh words. 

“I just think it’s funny, is all,” Tyler said. It hadn’t even realized he was in the room. “Minimizing harm.”

“This is neither the time nor the place,” the leader said. 

Chloe turned back to the Weapon. “Alright. So. The plan is that we’re going to disable the tracker rather than remove it, given that we can’t take it out safely.”

What?

“We had to get some equipment, which is why it took us longer to get here than Nigel and the boss,” she added. 

The following sequence of events were surreal. There was no way this was actually happening. There couldn’t be. There was no reason for the terrorists to explain their process to it. 

Chloe and her partner moved around the wheeled cart they’d brought in. (That explained the wheels squeaking, then.) They sifted through clunky electronic devices, so unlike what it was used to at the compound. They talked as they went. 

“That’s a bug sweeper,” Chloe said, gesturing to the device in the other terrorist’s hands. “Tyler’s gonna use it to find the frequency your tracker is on.”

“Got it,” he said.

Chloe peered over his shoulder at the device. “Yeesh, that's strong. Government wasn’t fucking around with this thing. Okay. Next step is we’re gonna use an EMP on it. It won’t touch you, and you shouldn’t feel anything other than…” She trailed off.

“Maybe a muscle twitch?” Tyler speculated. “Shouldn’t be anything, really.”

“Want me to use it on him to prove my point?” she asked.

It didn’t understand the question, and said so.

After an uncomfortable pause, Chloe said, “I’m just gonna take that as a yes. Doc, where can I use this without frying your tech?”

He pointed her to a section of the room. Chloe took Tyler’s arm and led the reluctant man to the area. 

“Now stand still and do your best to look pretty,” she said. She grabbed another device off the cart and held it almost directly over his ribs.

Tyler twitched and shook himself. “Okay, that was definitely not nothing. Jesus, that's weird. It didn’t hurt, but it definitely made the muscles sit up and pay attention.”

Then it was the Weapon’s turn to undergo the same process. Chloe set one hand on its shoulder as she aimed and fired the EMP. The warmth of it through its thin scrub top distracted the Weapon from its muscles clenching involuntarily.

Tyler brought the bug scanner over. “Nothing. The signal’s gone.”

And just like that, any chance it had of being rescued disappeared.

---

Taglist:

@ghostfacepepper, @kim-poce, @badluck990, @cupcakes-and-pain, @lonesome--hunter, @wits-and-wrongs, @neuro-whump, @winedark-whump @aswallowimprisoned, @rose-pinkie, @whumpy-writings, @whump-cravings, @secretwhumplair. @hobiisthesunfiteme, @whumpcreations, @myhusbandsasemni, @heart4brains @kixngiggles @neverthelass @extrabitterbrain @towerlesskey @ohnowhump @vickytokio @whumpinggrounds @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @extemporary-whump @pigeonwhumps @ifurd4d @aswallowimprisoned @the-magpiesystem

[little-earthquakes-rp]

@worldofsenelfy continued from here:

Noticing she was terrified his heart absolutely ached. Those trembling hands matched her voice as the fear was palpable. Boden was pretty even-keeled, but seeing her in such a state made a rage settle in chest. Granted, he knew it did little to help the situation and would only upset Jasmine even more. Pushing it down he did his best to focus on his friend, and empathetic eyes surveyed as she stuttered. Goddamn, it hurt to see her that scared. She'd been in a state of freeze until that moment, but now apparently she was ready to flee. Careful with his movement and his tone he tried to convince otherwise, "Jas, come sit in my office honey. You're safe now." He barely had the words out and she was already on her way to the door.

Turning to the offender he shook his head and pointed in the opposite direction, "You're out. Use the east doors over there. A six-month expulsion pending a possible lifetime ban." Walking backward he watched as the man made his way towards the suggested exit when finally Boden put those long legs to use and caught up with his friend. Moving beside her as much as he wanted to reach out he resisted at first. "It's safe now. It's just you and me, okay. It's safe now. He's gone. Please tell me what happened." Finally, he reached out placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, and repeated, "It's okay." Was it though? This wasn't the first time he'd caught Jasmine in the middle of a panic attack when someone got out of hand.

[belayadeath-goner]

SUBJECT 005: STARKOVA, B'YANKA MIKHAILOVNA

[little-earthquakes-rp]

@whosxafraid

[the-v0iid]

TAG DUMP.

[chaoslulled]

tag drop 001.