#the armorer is a past victor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ilguna · 1 year

Text

☼ the water heals our wounds (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick was beginning to believe that the damage done on you was permanent, but he had to try one more idea.

warnings; swearing, death mention, torture mention

wc; 5.3k

–

It’s too loud.

You can hear everything, between the people shouting nearby, and the consistent beeping from machines. There’s voices talking over one another, orders being barked around the room, fighting for more attention.

It’s bringing on a pounding headache, as if there’s tiny people inside of your head, slamming their fists on the inside of your skull with both hands, trying to get out. At first, it’s bearable, considering what you’ve been through lately.

And then it burns.

You fly up in the bed, eyes opening, hands reaching for the source of pain, attached to your forearm. Several people reach to grab and restrain you to keep from moving any further. You can see that there’s a needle, blood moving into a small vial.

“Miss (L/n), we’re just drawing your blood.” A nurse tells you, “You’re in District Thirteen, you’re safe now.”

“Dis—” You begin, and find that your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat, “District Thirteen isn’t real.”

“I assure you, it is.” He says, “We just had a team of volunteers rescue you and a few other victors from the Capitol.”

“The Tribute Center.” You murmur, watching as they pull the needle out, and replace it with a cotton pad, wrapping your elbow. “We were in the Tribute Center.”

“Yes, very good.” He says, “Can you tell me where you’re from?”

“District Four.” Your face twists, the headache is coming back, “Can we—?”

“When did you win the Hunger Games?”

“Sixty-Seventh. Can we talk about something else?” You look away, observing the space you’re in, “Anything else…”

You must be in District Thirteen’s hospital, judging by what you’re surrounded by. You can see a lot of people moving around, dressed similarly. The nurses and doctors look like they’re wearing different outfits than—what you can only guess is—regular civilians. There’s a few people sitting on gurneys dressed in hard armor and bulletproof vests, pockets absent of weapons.

You’d like to say that it’s not usually this busy or disorganized often, and that’s because of how the medical crew are reacting to the sheer amount of people in here. It’s crawling with bodies. They push people on gurneys away into hallways, some straight into private rooms where they pull the blinds, others are subjected to being treated in the main open room, like you.

You must not be high risk, then.

You watch as a team of professionals wheel a gurney by, someone laying unresponsive in the bed. You look away quickly, to the next rapidly moving object, and realize that you recognize the person. You manage to look back in time to see who it really is, stomach squeezing in horror.

It’s Johanna on that bed, head shaven to the skin, scabs covering every inch of available skin. She looks disgusting, but it answers the question that’s been on your mind these past couple of weeks. You finally know what’s been happening to Johanna in the Capitol.

“Are you hungry? Or thirsty?” He asks, “We normally have to wait for clearance, but you’re alert and responsive. They wouldn’t want us to wait for permission.”

“I’d like water, if you can.” You nod, “I’m not hungry, though.”

He gives you a smile, turning to place his hand on the girls’ shoulder next to him, beginning to talk to her. You look away again, towards the doors that have just been pushed open, doors slamming against the wall from the force.

A young woman with dark hair in a braid is looking around the room quickly, searching for something. You get a glimpse of her face, and you know instantly that it’s Katniss Everdeen.

You grit your teeth, a shudder running through your body. You grip onto the railings handles, letting out a shaky breath. You’ve seen her a lot recently, although you’ve never met her, not yet anyway. You had mentored the Quarter Quell—no, no you shouldn’t think about that.

“Gale!” Katniss shouts, starting for him.

A nurse blocks her, saying something, and you’re trying to read her lips, when a voice cuts through the noise.

“(Y/n)!”

You flinch, jerking to the other side of the bed, squeezing your eyes shut. The thoughts—the memories—of all the times he’s screamed your name, screamed at you. The morning he left, the purple bruises…

He punished you, said that it’s your fault this happened.

“Miss (L/n)?” The nurse asks, placing his hand on yours.

You jump, swatting his hand off of yours. In the process, your eyes fly open, catching sight of him—of Finnick—coming towards you. You can’t let him have you, the last time he did—the nightmares still haven’t stopped. You can’t do it again. You need to get out of here.

You almost trip getting out of the bed, legs tangled in the scratchy white hospital sheets. Your bare feet slap against the tile floor, which is cool against your soles. You stumble a few steps to catch your balance before wheeling around, both hands grabbing the gurney.

“Get away from me!” You scream, pulling the back back a bit before launching it in his direction.

You watch his smile drop, eyebrows drawing in. He’s doing it again, the next thing you know he’ll have everyone on his side. He’s not going to trick you, you’re not going back to him this time. You’ll die before you end up in his hands. It was better in the Capitol. He wasn’t there, and you were safe.

A couple people jump to catch the gurney before it slams into him. It almost makes you want to scream at them, too, for trying to protect him. You don’t have time to, you turn around and start for the exit doors on the other side of the room. The male nurse that had been helping you tries to make a grab, but completely misses.

“Stop her!” He shouts.

You slip past several people, slamming into the metal doors, which start emitting a terrible, high-pitched scream that starts once they’re opened. You make a run for it down the long, cement hallways, feet slapping painfully on the floor. You can hear shouting behind you, pleading for you to stop.

You’re faster than they are. The further you run, the less you’re able to hear them, until their voices are gone entirely. You end up tripping into one of the side doors, leading you into a dark room. Good, they shouldn’t be able to find you here for a long time.

You drag your feet to the corner of the room, panting, struggling to catch your breath. The burning in your chest slowly grows stronger, you dig your nails into your collarbone, trying to distract from the pain.

You slide down the wall, letting out a sob, hands moving to clamp over your ears to block out the humming sound coming from somewhere inside of the room.

—

You hate the hospital wing of District Thirteen.

Surprisingly, it has nothing to do with the fact of how the medical team is treating you. For once in your life, they couldn’t be more considerate and caring about your feelings. It’s refreshing, considering you’ve been in and out of the hospital since you won the Hunger Games.

The Capitol didn’t catch that your immune system was weaker than it had been before. You were home for a week before you caught the nasty disease that was going around the district. You spend two and a half months in the hospital trying to recover and leave.

You honestly thought you were miserable in the arena, but it was nothing compared to how they treated you in the Four hospital. You know it was nothing personal, that’s how they treated all their patients. It was just so odd to see so much aggression in a place of healing.

There were a few times you almost left the hospital without being discharged because you couldn’t handle it anymore. It’s difficult to deal with that behavior in such a fragile state of mind. You couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares that plagued you, you were hardly eating because every bite made you nauseous.

The only reason why you were convinced to stay each time was because of Finnick. You think you remember him telling you that you could risk putting yourself in more danger if you didn’t stay. The last thing you wanted to do after you won the Games was die when you got home.

When you told that story to the Head Doctor here—mostly the part that you hate hospitals, in hopes that he would change his mind and let you stay in your own dorm—he hung onto that story, and a certain factor about it. Like how you didn’t mention Finnick in a negative light.

Those times in the hospital could’ve very well have been Finnick drawing you in. You smelt honey each time you were around him, making you feel safe enough to land. And the second you did, he trapped you.

The doctor won’t let you leave, no matter how many times you beg him to.

Like you said, you completely understand that they’re just doing their jobs when they come to check on you, and accompany you to the bathroom, and take you for walks around the hallways. The issue is that there’s nothing more you want right now than to be left alone.

When they hover like this, it’s like they’re trying to set you back. They did this in the Capitol, hovered over your smallest movements, made you second-guess your sentences. Now, you’re always waiting for the nurses here to say something like they did, always waiting for the drop that’ll never come.

“Do you want to go around one more time?” The nurse asks.

“No, I’m done.”

There’s no point in walking around these halls. There’s nothing to look at, no rooms to look inside of. All it does is leave you to your thoughts, because half of the time, the nurses can’t bring themselves to carry a conversation. You might as well stay inside of your room.

“You remember that you’re supposed to be pushing yourself, right?” She asks.

“He wants me to push myself to walk in a rectangle?” You snap back, looking at her, “I can obviously walk just fuckin’ fine. They didn’t break my fucking legs.”

“It’s to keep up your stamina.”

“If you wanted to test my stamina, then you’d let me walk around the entire bunker and keep your fucking mouth shut to see how long I’ll go for.” You shake your head, rounding the corner to go inside of your assigned room.

You make it two steps before you stop, eyes locked on the foreign object. Your foot moves back to get you out of there, but you know that there’s nowhere to run to, anymore. You need clearance to get through the doors, and you can’t do it without one of the nurse’s approval.

You would’ve snuck out by now if you could.

Your arms wrap around your upper body to hug yourself, fingers digging into your upper arm’s flesh to ground yourself.

It’s just a vase of flowers, it can’t hurt you. What can, is the thought of him being in here, delivering these himself. What else can be in here? What of your belongings did he touch? Is this why the nurses insisted that you get out of bed at that exact moment.

“(Y/n)?”

“Was he in here?” The words are harsh.

“No, we don’t let visitors back here, they are to wait in the lobby.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is surprisingly measured, despite the uncontrollable urge to freak out. You grip your arms tighter, “Was he in here?”

She’s silent for a few seconds, “Yes.”

“Why on earth would you let him?” You tear your eyes from the flowers, “Who approved of that?”

“Doctor Hurley did.” She says, “There’s been so much progress between you two, so he allowed Finnick to come in here on special request to deliver a gift. He picked the flowers himself this morning. He wanted them at their freshest.

You begin to take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself, “I don’t understand.”

“What’s the matter?”

“You let him in my space?” You ask, tears building in your eyes. You can’t be safe, not even back here, in an area where you can’t escape if he were here. Is he here? “The one place that he wasn’t supposed to have access to? You let him in here? What did he touch? Did he leave?”

There’s a smile that hints at the corners of her lips. He must’ve talked to her, that’s the only reason why she thinks it’s okay. He told her the same sob story that he told you to get you to stay. She’s supposed to be on your side.

You start inside of your room, one long stride after the other, hand reaching for the clear vase of colorful flowers, paired together to show the end of summer, the beginning of fall. There’s a few long leaves sticking out, giving you more of the outdoors.

You twist around, letting out a scream as you throw the vase at the nurse. She jumps out of the way, making it shatter against the concrete wall instead, glass bursting into pieces, flying in every direction. The bundle of flowers lands in the puddle of glass and water.

—

“I want to go to the cafeteria to eat!” You shout, hand flying out in the direction of the door, “I don’t understand why Peeta’s allowed to go and I’m not!”

Doctor Hurley is shaking his head at you, face twisted like it always is when he’s delivering bad news. Behind him stands Boggs, the head of security, arms crossed and waiting in the doorway. You demanded to see both of them today, because it would be the only way to appeal to both at the same time.

“It’s not an act of unfairness, (Y/n).” Doctor Hurley says, “Let’s say you have an episode, there’s a chance you could trigger both Johanna and Peeta at the same time too. And it’s vice versa with Peeta.”

“You really think that Peeta’s aggression could set me off?” You ask, “Peeta and I might have had the same treatment, but it was obviously done in different ways. He’s aggressive towards Katniss, and they made me afraid of Finnick.”

“Yes, precisely.”

You turn your attention to Boggs, “Please, you know that my first reaction wouldn’t be to fight. The first thing that I’d do is run. All you’d have to do is worry about getting Peeta under control.”

“We would still have to spend time finding you after you run. That first day you came here, you only had access to the hospital wing, and it took hours for us to find you. It’ll take longer, possibly days, if you went hiding here.” Boggs says.

“Yet you were able to find Katniss each time she hid, right?” You shoot back, watching his face twist. “Yeah, I know about that because of Haymitch. And worst-case scenario, if you can’t find me, I come down from the hysteria and come out myself.” Now you look back at Hurley, “You’ve been teaching me self-soothing techniques for a reason to bring myself back down when I’m feeling that way.”

Hurley shakes his head, “This is not a time to put that to the test.”

You cross your arms, shaking your head, “Then why don’t you send Johanna or Peeta to their rooms? It’d be a fair trade-off.”

“We can’t, we’re under special orders from Coin to continue to push his progress. We need him outside of his comfort zone.” Boggs says, “And Johanna’s stable enough to mix her with the other victors. We can’t risk a third.”

“So he’s the golden one, again?” You ask, “You say that it’s not a matter of being unfair, but that’s exactly what it is.”

“(Y/n), why don’t you go down on a different day?” Hurley asks, “It’ll still let you feel some sense of normalcy.”

You slam your fists into the desk, the tray full of food rattles against the wood, “You only let them go down once a week! I don’t want to sit with people I don’t know! I want the victors, for fuck’s sake!” You scoot away from the table, back further onto the bed to give you more leg mobility. This is when you draw your leg back and kick the table so it topples over, the tray hits the floor, food splattering up the wall. “I want to see Finnick!”

The room’s silent for a good minute, while you struggle to get your emotions under control, realizing that this is exactly what they meant about you triggering Peeta and Johanna. These outbursts don’t help you, but what else are you supposed to do? They don’t listen to you. They back you into a corner and give you solutions you don’t care about.

“You said—” You begin, wiping the tears that are forming in the corners of your eyes away, “You said that denying me things like this is a step back.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Hurley says.

“It feels like you’re trying to keep me from moving forward, by keeping me away from them. How am I supposed to know how to act around them, if you don’t give me a chance?” You ask, “I want an opportunity.”

Boggs watches you for a few more seconds, and then he lets out a sigh, “Tell the nurses to give her a jumpsuit.”

Hurley turns to look at him, “After this?” He motions to the mess on the floor, “How do you think Peeta will react?”

“I think Peeta’s shown a lot of empathy for the people that were with him in the Capitol, recently.” Boggs says, “He’s made it a long way as well, and I’m not going to prioritize him. If there’s a step back, fine. We have another couple of weeks to work on it.”

“If you think so.” Hurley looks at you, “We’ll have a nurse bring a jumpsuit. Boggs will bring you down.”

“Thank you.”

Both of them leave, heading in the direction of the nurse station at the end of the hall. You try not to bother them too much if you don’t have to. They’ve begun to lift a lot of the restrictions they’ve put on you, which is a relief. It’s driving you crazy to be treated like a child.

While you wait, you go over to clean up the mess you made. You place the table upright, and get to work on using napkins to scoop the specific portions of food back onto the metal tray. By the time Boggs comes back, the food is relatively gone, and you can’t even tell you knocked the table over.

He hands over your new outfit, one that you’ve worn a few times before. You take it, and shuffle inside of the bathroom. You use the one hair tie they allow you to have to tie your hair out of your face, and then you change into the grey outfit. You leave the bathroom, pulling on your flats, because that’s all they allow you to have.

Boggs escorts you out of your room, down a hall and through a pair of swinging doors. They moved you out of the first area because you stopped showing a threat of escaping. You nearly cried when they told you the news, because the nurses there are significantly meaner than the ones over here. And they’ve told you several times that they would never have let Finnick go into your room like that, regardless of what Doctor Hurley approved.

The moment you step foot out of the hospital, you wrap your arms around your body to hold in the anxiety that’s beginning to bubble inside of you. In a few days, it would’ve been two weeks since you last saw Finnick. You’re not used to him being away for so long, especially with how persistent he is. You’ve been told by the nurses that it’s because he’s working on something with Coin, Plutarch and Haymitch.

When you asked more about it, you were told that they didn’t know anything. And even if they did, they wouldn’t be allowed to tell you, because you haven’t hit that stage yet. Yes, you’re a victor, and you’ve just managed to survive the Capitol, but that doesn’t give you a rite of passage here.

Boggs brings you to an elevator, where he has you step inside, and then pulls the door down. He presses a button on a box next to him, and the two of you begin your descent to the cafeteria’s floor. The elevator’s not even close to as nice as the ones from the Capitol, those ones move smoothly and noiselessly.

It stops, he pulls the door open, and leads you to the cafeteria doors. He stops in front of them, “If you feel the need to leave, you have to let me know.”

“I will.” You nod.

“We’ll grab you a tray, and then sit down with them. Lunch just started, it should be over in thirty minutes.”

You nod again, letting him know you’re listening. He goes through the doors, and you follow behind him, hugging yourself tighter to give you something to focus on. A few people glance to look at you, but their eyes don’t linger for very long, returning to the person they’re talking to.

Boggs brings you to the short line that leads to the window where you get your food. When it’s your turn, the lady on the other side gives you a wide smile, and tells you to enjoy. You wonder how many of the people in here know who you are.

Boggs starts walking away, and you follow behind him, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, because you can no longer hug yourself. You’ve got the tray in your hands, something to focus on.

“Mind if we join you?” Boggs says, stepping aside.

You suck in your bottom lip, giving a smile to the table of victor’s in front of you.

“I was wondering when they’d finally let you out of your cell.” Johanna says first, motioning to the one open spot, “We have so much to catch up on.”

“Trust me, it was a fight to even come eat lunch down here.” You set the tray on the table, and then move to sit on the bench. Peeta scoots over to give you more room, “If it weren’t for Boggs, I’d be eating my lunch off of the floor.”

He laughs behind you.

“Lucky you.” Peeta murmurs, “You do that often?”

You breathe out a laugh, “I try not to anymore.”

You pick up the fork, twisting it in your hand, looking up to see exactly who you’re sitting with. Johanna’s sitting across from you, with one leg up on the bench, leaning into it while she eats. Peeta’s sitting to your right, his own personal bodyguards tower behind him, they must not bother him.

Katniss is sitting across from Peeta, but she’s more toward the end of the table, eating with the man you saw on your first day, the one she couldn’t see, Gale. On the other side of Johanna sits a blonde girl, twirling her hair around her finger. She offers you a wide smile.

And the last person, who was on the other side of Peeta—now next to you—is…

You swallow thickly at the sight of Finnick, feeling your heart begin to beat faster in your chest. Usually when you see him, it’s across a table, at the far side so that you’re not close. Always your request, never his. He goes along with it because he doesn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.

You have to quickly remind yourself that he won’t hurt you. Doctor Hurley and his team of doctors have been working hard to try and reverse the damage that was done in the Capitol. However, if there’s one thing that people tend to hold onto the most, it’s fear.

Finnick raises his eyebrows, the small smile he was holding is slowly fading, “Do you want me to move?”

You shake your head, “No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, “It wouldn’t be a big deal, you didn’t know—”

“I’m sure.” You smile, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. I heard you’re working on some projects with Beetee?”

Finnick’s expression transforms entirely, lighting up, “Yes, he’s showing me new trident designs. You’d love them, he made one the other day that made me think of you. It had these vines that snaked around the handle, and bright colorful flowers. It’s not practical to use, but I know how you like the prettier looks.”

“Maybe you can show me the next time we have our meeting. It was on paper, right?”

“Yeah, I think he made a small prototype, it’s plastic, so hopefully it’ll pass through the doors.” Finnick shrugs.

“That sounds nice.”

Johanna lets out a scoff, “Nerds.”

—

“I still can’t believe you convinced them to let both of us up here.” You say, jogging slightly to catch up with Finnick. “And alone?”

“I have a way with words.” Finnick turns to wink at you, “You’re going to love it.”

He readjusts the bag he has on his shoulder, it’s gotta be heavy. You offered to carry some of the food inside, but he told you that he wants you to enjoy being outside again for the first time in months.

“This is the last door.” He tells you, going through it first, and then holding it open.

The sunlight streams through the door, and blinds you on your way through. You take in a deep breath as soon as you’re fully outside. It smells so fresh, lighter than the recycled air from inside. The sun on your skin feels nice, and it’s warm.

“Johanna would love it up here.” You murmur, crossing your arms over your chest, “Do you think they’d let her out?”

“If she shows signs of getting better, they will, but she’s having issues at the moment.” Finnick shakes his head, “I wish it could be the three of us again.”

You nod, “So where are we picnicking? Right here?”

Finnick scoffs, “Are you kidding? No, I’ve got a special spot that you’re also going to love?”

“How deep?” You ask, “We shouldn’t go too far.”

“It’s not too far, I promise. It’s closeby, Katniss showed me where it is.”

“Okay,” You motion for him to go first, “Lead the way.”

Finnick begins walking along a path that has been stomped into the ground. The two of you travel through the trees, and you can’t help yourself when you touch every green object you pass. The bark, the leaves, the grass, the rocks. You pluck a white flower out of a bush and carefully tuck it behind your ear.

“Can I ask what you and Katniss passed? I heard it was some sort of test.” You pull a leaf off of a plant to fold and pull apart while you walk. “I was going to ask Johanna but I was told I couldn’t see her.”

“I can tell you, but you can’t go and tell Boggs that I did. You can’t tell anyone, actually.” He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes lingering on the flower.

“Promise.” You smile.

“Well, they’re planning an attack on the Capitol, which you already know.” He starts, “The test Katniss and I took was to see if we were eligible to join.”

You can feel the smile disappear from your face, “Why would you want to do that?”

“To help, of course.” He says, “I was placed on the same squad as Katniss, Boggs is going to be leading it. Johanna failed the test, she freaked out. That’s why she wasn’t available for visitors. I had to fight them to be let in.”

“When are you going?” You ask, fingers gravitating toward your mouth, teeth biting onto nails.

“Soon, hopefully. We won’t know more information until we ship out.”

You’re not sure why they, Katniss and Finnick, would want to go there after seeing what happened to you, Johanna and Peeta. Haven’t they learned anything from it? What happens when they get captured? They’re automatically killed.

“That’s a bad idea.” You murmur, “For either of you to go.”

“Our luck, we won’t even be able to do any of the action.” Finnick shrugs, “I could tell by Boggs’ face that we’re going to be decoration.”

You hum, “How much farther?”

“Only a couple more minutes.” Finnick tells you.

He changes the topic, talking about Peeta’s cake decorating skills from a couple of weeks ago. They threw a party and filmed it to use for propaganda. You were in a few of the shots, but not many. The cake that Peeta made had to be carried out by four people, and they were careful not to ruin the beautiful icing that must’ve taken Peeta hours, despite his skilled hand.

You wish you had even half the talent that he does.

“We’re going this way.” Finnick begins to go down a slope, you follow, not really paying attention.

And then you hear it, the sound of running water. You pick up speed, going right past Finnick to see if what you’re hearing is correct. You’re led to a tree, a patch of shade, and beyond that, a small cliff that leads to a shallow river.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, “You knew this was here?”

“That’s what I was bringing you to.” He laughs, placing the bag down by the tree. He reaches in to pull out the blanket, spreading it over the patch of shade.

You reach to pull off your shoes, not bothering to entertain the idea of sitting down, not with something so refreshing and familiar nearby. You throw your shoes by the end of the blanket, and move on to rolling up the legs of the jumpsuit, not wanting them to get soaking wet.

“What are you doing?” He asks, looking up at you.

“I’m getting in, of course!” You turn away from him, heading to the river.

“Wait!” He shouts behind you, getting up, “What if it’s faster than you think?”

“So be it! Let me get carried away by the waves!” You laugh, sitting down on the edge before scooting in.

You’re afraid that you’re going to land harshly on rocks, but your feet sink into mud. The water is cold, but not as bad as it can be back home in Four. It feels nice on your skin, and combined with the sun… it really is a perfect day for a picnic.

You wade deeper into the water, feeling it go up to your knees. When you turn around, you’re met with Finnick, standing at the top, staring down at you. You splash a handful of water in his direction, letting out a laugh.

“This is so much better than taking a shower and pretending it’s raining!” You throw your head back, arms out while you spin slightly, “I love it!”

“You don’t want to eat first?” Finnick asks, laughing.

You wave the idea away, “This reminds me of the summer after I won. How we went to the beach all day, forgot sunscreen and went back home burnt to hell. It hasn’t been that hot in a long time.”

Finnick’s face twists, a pout appearing for a second, before it disappears, “I remember.”

“Get in here!” You splash at him again.

1K notes · View notes

lionofchaeronea · 5 months

Text

Denarius of the famous Roman general and statesman Mark Antony (Marcus Antonius), born 14 January 83 BCE. This coin was minted in the late summer or autumn of 38 BCE, possibly to advertise the renewal of the triumvirate between Antony, Octavian, and Lepidus in that year. At the time of its issue, Antony was preparing, with Cleopatra's help, for a campaign against the Parthian Empire (which would, in the event, end in disaster, severely weakening his position and setting the stage for his final showdown with Octavian). The obverse of the coin bears the bust of Antony, who is identified as AUGUR (an important Roman priesthood, responsible for taking the auspices by observing the flight of birds) and TRESVIR R(EI) P(UBLICAE) C(ONSTITUENDAE) (the official title of the members of the triumvirate). The reverse, in a testimony to Antony's past glories and future ambitions, labels him IMPER(ATOR) TER(TIUS) ("thrice acclaimed victor") and bears a trophy (tropaeum), an empty suit of armor erected to mark the point at which the enemy army began to flee.

Photo credit: Classical Numismatic Group, Inc. http://www.cngcoins.com

126 notes · View notes

sculptorofcrimson · 1 month

Text

Genderbent Thunder Warriors when?

A/N: Some funny crack. Genderbent Ushotan.

Relationships: You'll see :3

The Cast: Valdor(mentioned), Ushotan(genderbent), Kandawire

~~~~

She saw the warriors emerge through the night-blown snow, standing motionless against the dark. For a moment, she thought they were Custodians, though their stature was not quite the same, and their armour not of the same quality. Up closer, and you could see the great differences – the plate was cruder, heavier, more bronze than gold. Much of it was heavily damaged, and individual plates had been replaced with cruder hammered steel. They still wore their crimson plumes, though, and still donned their thick crimson cloaks, all of it sodden in the freezing deluge. They carried their old weapons, the ones that had once been used in the Unity propaganda vids. She remembered seeing the first cuts of those, years ago, and laughing at the absurdity of them. No one was laughing now. They looked as savage as she had ever seen them, bereft of their old chains of command and now fighting out of bitter, wounded pride. Every movement they made brought a snarl of badly maintained servos, and you could smell the stink of atrophying flesh even through the storm’s lash. They did not have long, whatever the outcome here

They said nothing to her. Some, she recognised, were already deep into their pre-combat mania, and were working hard to maintain control of their faculties. Others were merely morose, or fixated on what was to come. Danger hung over them like a fog, creeping out into the frigid night. They had always been designed to cause terror, and that capacity at least had not yet eroded.

As she walked among them, she could sense a strange sense of…amusement, almost pooling off from their veins. As if they knew something she did not. One leered at her as she passed. She held his gaze, just long enough, before turning away.

She saw their master last, just as was appropriate. Armor colored a bronze so dark it might have been iron, lined with blood-red lacquer and covered in battle-honours, the finest ornaments encrusted with dust and ash. The Thunder Warrior’s helm was encrusted with heavy decoration, the vox-grille formed into a permanent grimace. A titanic broadsword swung in one gauntlet, a projectile gun in the other. A tabard, scaled like a fish’s flanks, hung from a curved and intricately decorated breast-plate, and the Primarch’s blunt greaves scored with the lightning strikes of the Legio.

Valdor was taller, it was true, but there was something absolutely brutal about the Primarch before her – a kind of amplified viciousness that made her eyes sting.

The High Lord came closer, staring up at the giant. Her lips parted, jaw dropping slowly in a silent gesture of surprise.

‘Lord Primarch Ushotan,’ she said, respectfully, her voice stunned with surprise and shock. ‘It is good to finally meet you.’ she finally managed.

Amusement glinted behind that helmet. The Primarch of the IVth legion tossed back her ridged helm and laughed. Her laugh was sharp and guttural.

‘You, too,’ she said, chuckling. The Primarch of the IVth legion steps closer, and Kandawire could see the Primarch’s breath pluming out past her rebreathers.

Her voice was horrific. What had once been raucous laughter had been turned into a corroded scrape, dragging up from strained vocal cords and strangled by a damaged vox-unit. She laughed again, her chuckles growling and guttural like a wolf unrestrained, but still just about in control. Almost sane. ‘Didn’t know if you had the spine to see this through. Pleased to have my faith confirmed.’

The Primarch of the Iron Lords. The victor of Maulland Sen. Warrior, Primarch, captain, commander, mistress. Ushotan noted her surprised gaze, returning with a chuckle of her own.

‘You look surprised. I don’t blame you.’

‘I meant no offense, Lord…Lady Primarch.’ Kandawire said, looking up at the giantess with what felt like a daze.

‘There was none taken. Captain-General did not speak much of me, did he?’

Kandawire thought for a moment, then replied. ‘No. He certainly did not.’

‘Serves that bastard right.’ Ushotan huffed, her well-decorated chestplate rising and falling as she growled at the air, hands clenching and unclenching around the pommel of her sword. ‘I’ll kill him either way. Slowly.’

‘I never wanted things to come to this.’ Kandawire did not know how long she had before the Primarch’s attention faded from her.

‘None of us did.’ Ushotan looks away. Her ridged helm hid her grimace. She instead shakes her head.

‘I wish to remind you – no more bloodshed than is needed. No anarchy. We are restoring, not destroying.’

Ushotan came closer. Her helm was frosted with ice, her hair a knotted mess that had been hastily cropped so only its ends hung limply from her helmet. Plumes of ragged breaths were vented from the outlets on her rebreather. She remembered how Valdor had described her, up in Maulland Sen at the extremity of the world.

Like the ghost of all murders.

Ushotan was close enough to glare down at her now. The giantess’ eyes were mirthless, her hidden smile a crooked path amid a visage twisted by madness. In a surprisingly graceful motion, she abruptly drops to a kneel before Kandawire, lowering herself until they were nearly eye to eye. Her breath fogged over Kandawire’s face. She smelled blood, the scent of ancient metal and the sterile fumes of combat stims, mixed with what vaguely resembles a scent of old oil.

‘You want to know.’ Ushotan mused, looking her dead in the eye. ‘It does not matter, but you still want to know.’

‘Yes.’

‘You haven’t earned it.’ Ushotan doesn’t laugh again, but she makes a chuffing noise, forcing a sound out of her ruined throat. ‘But I’ll tell you anyways.’

Still kneeling in the snow, Ushotan laughs again, and begins.

‘Constantin. You should’ve seen him then, so glorious in his invincibility. He was the first the Emperor created, and this, you already know. But he was also terrible to behold. The Emperor’s Spear, His finest weapon, and there was none after him, and certainly none before him. The process He used for the first Custodes was never replicated again.’ Ushotan shrugs. ‘He alone, he was unique. The first of the Custodes, greater than the rest of them all. But enough about Constantin. I’m sure you’ve already seen his brothers and sisters, much to your surprise. But you’ve never seen me. The propaganda vids made you think the Cataegis process would only work on males, eh?’

‘I suppose so, Lady Primarch.’ Even now, Kandawire was still unsure how to address her. ‘I had not expected…’

‘They lied.’ Ushotan replied bluntly. Almost unconsciously, Ushotan touches her throat, her gorget ringing as the Thunder Warrior digs her fingers into the ruined steel. ‘They lied. It worked on women, certainly, but not…well. The results were horrendous. It was like forcing a creation into what will never be. Even the Custodes struggled sometimes with their candidates, much less speaking of the Thunder Warriors. But the King was desperate. The Imperium took whatever recruits it had, in its earliest years. I was one of the poor bastards chosen, and by some freak of fate, I was one of those that lived. But they weren’t stable, no, even for a Thunder Warrior. They were fanatics. Screaming about the Emperor as their God.’ She chuckled again, mirtlessly.

‘Their god?’ Kandawire had believed it preposterous. The Emperor was a man. A great man, but a man nonetheless.

Ushotan smiled underneath that mask. She does not laugh, however.

‘Their god.’

‘That’s preposterous.’

‘It is not.’ Ushotan shrugged her massive shoulders. ‘Didn’t affect their combat any. or all their augments, for all their madness, they were still sisters in battle, more or less. Doesn’t matter, does it? Worship never razed a city. Constantin himself never cared much, and it no longer matters. His treachery is all that matters. Whatever we had then, it didn’t matter anymore after Ararat.’

It could, thought Kandawire. Worship absolutely could, in fact, raze a city. But it didn’t matter, of course, the Primarch was already dusting herself off, and preparing to leave.

‘And why are you telling me this? About…Constantin.’ Valdor’s first name tasted foreign on her tongue.

‘Why?’ Ushotan almost looks surprised, turning around before she left.

Kandawire swallowed, and gave the giantess a hesitant nod. ‘About Constantin. You and him.’

‘You really don’t know do you?’ Ushotan had stopped turning away. She was looking at her very intensely now, with a scrutinizing quality not unlike interrogation. Or rage.

Then a smile, as slow as the rumbling of glaciers, breaks across that jagged expanse of a face, and she keels over, as if struck, her broad frame echoing with spasms. Kandawire, surprised, almost unconsciously takes a step back, before realizing the Thunder Warrior Primarch was laughing.

She was laughing.

Ushotan howls her ragged laugh, and the chorus was taken up by her men in a horrible, amused symphony. They laughed, like corpses waiting to be put back to their grave, their combined voices not so unlike the rumble of ancient beasts spurred for war, they laughed in some kind of collective, amusing joke that Kandawire was not privy to.

‘He didn’t tell you, did she?’

‘No, Lord Primarch…I’m afraid not.’

‘He didn’t tell you we were lovers, eh?’

#sculptor of crimson #warhammer 40k #wh40k #constantin valdor #adeptus custodes #warhammer #wh40k writing prompts #thunder warriors #ushotan #genderbend #ushotan x valdor #ushotan/valdor #i forgot the tag

29 notes · View notes

cat-mentality · 8 months

Text

Tw: Blood, violence, death. All that good shit.

This is what nobody tells you about the aftermath of a fight: Adrenaline takes a while to leave your system, even when the threat is gone it is still buzzing inside of you.

The silence feels like an invisible weight setting on your shoulders, the echoes of the battle still ring inside of your ears, you can almost taste the vibrations of the swords hitting their targets.

This is what nobody tells you about the aftermath of a battle: Blood dries fast. It starts with the edges and makes its way to the center, the process much quicker than most people believe it to be, staining everything.

The smell of blood is overpowering as it clings to every surface you can see, as it dries on your clothes, your weapons, your hands, your mouth. You know, in a part of your mind you are not truly paying attention to, that you will have to throw away those clothes- Blood doesn't leave them as easy as it does armour.

This is a lie they tell you about the aftermath of a slaughter: It's poetic. There is no poetry in this, the blood drying on the white walls is not artful, it's just blood splashed without care, the sounds of the dying don't sound like music, they sound like pain, like regret, like begging.

The victors are not heroes standing proudly side by side, they are warriors shaking with left over adrenaline, whimpering in pain as they hold their wounds, eyes haunted.

This is what they don't want to admit to you in the aftermath of a massacre: It feels good.

You are standing in the middle of a Federation office as the world buzzes around you, as people talk and walk, as time keeps ticking away. Your hands are painted red with dried blood, you don't know if the blood on your armor belongs to you or to any of the bodies on the floor. You don't care. Blood paints your face like a mask, you know you must look like a demon, like a monster.

Good.

They are the ones who made you into one. It's fitting that it's the last thing they see.

It is still alive. Barely but still, a part of you is actually impressed about It's resistance and endurance. The white fur is barely recognizable under the blood, this blood is still fresh, still vivid red and wet as it leaks from the wounds, the eyes are as emotionless as they have always been.

You wonder if It can even feel pain.

You hope It does.

An arm is thrown, almost carelessly, over your shoulders and you tense, hand gripping the sword tighter but you recognize the person easily enough. Your shoulders are still tense, but you don't attack.

"Good fight"

Etoiles' smile looks out of place in the situation, the cheer on his voice foreign. There is a wound still closing on his forehead, his hair is painted red with blood you are half sure doesn't belong to him, his scythe is carelessly thrown over his shoulder already gleaming as if cleaning it was the first thing he did, his armor is in much better state than your own.

You just nod back, still staring at It. Etoiles hums, not bothered by your tense posture or your dismissive gesture, his shoulders in contrast are relaxed, his expression peaceful.

It's a sharp contrast to what it was moments before. The grin as sharp as steel, the eyes so dark they could as well be voids, the laughter that could be heard over the screams and the swords.

He looks at It and tilts his head to the side, curious but not overly so. Etoiles is a fighter at heart, you don't think he could understand your urge, your desire, to stare at It, he would have ended it as soon as he could, he doesn't understand but he respects your needs.

There is another presence arriving next to Etoiles and he turns to grin at the newcomer who, again, just gives him a grim nod back, eyes fixed on It, his weapon still in hand.

You are surprised by the dark satisfaction shinning in Philza's eyes but maybe you shouldn't. It's easy to forget that the friendly and calm man atop off the wall has a past as drenched in blood as yours, probably even more as the whispers of death cling to him like a second skin, they never said an angel of death had to be merciful after all. You wonder who he was before, no common man would take to planning this as easily as he did, no common man would walk among the slaughter as if there was nothing amiss, no common man would ignore the blood so easily.

You recognize someone welcoming back a part of their past.

Almost on their own accord your eyes drift to the rest of the room, cataloging who is still here.

Baghera is the furthest away, her weapon nowhere to be seen as she crouches on the ground to speak to terrified figures, hands clean as she holds them up in a non threatening position.

Your own hands clench on your sword fighting the instinct to go to her, to stand guard at her side because you don't trust them. Those workers, those survivors who she insisted on protecting, on forgiving, when they dropped their weapons and begged, you don't trust them to not put a sword to her back, a knife to her gut, to repay her kindness with pain and betrayal.

You don't understand her need to save them, but you respect it.

You only relax when you make eye contact with Forever. He is just a few steps behind her and he has his sword in hand even if his posture is as non threatening as it can be, he looks between you two and nods just once, determined, and you nod back.

He has tried to clean the blood from his face, perhaps to look less frightening to the workers, but there is only so much you can do about it. You have to turn away because you hate how blank his eyes look, you hate how haunted his expression is.

Some people are just not made for the bloodshed.

Others, you suppose, are far too used to it.

You never saw Fit's face as blank as it is now. He is more statue than man as he leans against one of the blood soaked walls, posture tense as if he expects an attack at any moment, eyes anywhere but here. This man is a survivor, you realize tilting your head to the side, this is a man who has had to suffer and made others suffer before.

You almost smile when Pac approaches him. You would if you thought your lips could remember how to move to that position, as your friend leans against him without words, taking a bloodied hand on his own, equally as red.

Fit relaxes, just the tiniest bit, and squeezes the hand back.

They will be okay. Not today, not tomorrow, maybe not for a long time, but as long as they have each other you know they will heal.

Your eyes look for your beloved next.

Roier is already looking at you and you have to break eye contact first. You don't know what he is seeing but you know it can't be good.

No one likes to see a monster.

No one can love a monster.

It was good having him by your side. You hope he knows your heart, as cursed and dark as it may be, will always belong to him.

You focus on his hand instead, in the way blood has dried all over it, the way he didn't bother to wipe it off. They are protectively on Jaiden's shoulders as she is kneeling on the floor crying so hard her whole body is shaking.

Osito Bimbo's head is laid on her lap as she tenderly brushes the fur of his forehead, her tears falling on him non stop. There is a dark crimson circle on his chest, a straight hole where once a heart used to beat, gravity is making the blood sweep out of the hole on his chest and into her lap but she doesn't care.

You don't know who killed him.

You hope, for her sake, that it was quick.

Foolish is sitting cross legged on the floor next to Jaiden and as usual you cannot for the life of you understand what is going through his mind. As if feeling your eyes on him he turns his attention away from Jaiden to look at you, the grin that he sends in your direction is as bright as the sun, his eyes mischievous as he stares at It and then back at you in something that is both a question and a challenge.

It's a bit uncanny how natural the blood soaking him looks. Red blood, not a drop of his own.

The only sound in the room is Tubbo.

The kid is crying, his sobs come from somewhere inside of his chest, painful to hear in their heartbreak.

Fred's body is laying in his lap as well, Tubbo's hands are still uselessly pressing against the wound on his side that has long since stopped bleeding. Pierre's work you know, and a part of you think it was deserved even as Tubbo cries and cries over someone he thought loved him back.

He will realize the truth one day, you hope, he will realize that WA02 made a choice. He will realize that in the end his loyalty, or his fear you will never know, spoke louder and he chose the losing side.

It's a pity that Tubbo has to suffer but you will not mourn someone responsible for causing pain to your family.

Another touch brings your attention back.

Bagi is at your side, staring at you with familiar unfamiliar eyes. As she once promised she is as drenched in blood as you, it clings to her with the same natural way it does to you, you have no doubts that in this moment you two truly look like twins.

She looks at It like it's a piece of garbage on the floor, mouth twisted in disgust and her eyes are hard, determined. She isn't enjoying it, not like you, but you understand she doesn't see a problem either.

"End this." She tells you "It has to be you."

A part of you doesn't want to. A part of you want to just stay here and watch as It slowly and painfully dies, as life leaves It's body with each drop of blood, wants to heal It just to inflict the same fate over and over again.

Death sounds too merciful.

But Bagi is looking at you and as you look at Philza he also nods just once, Etoiles pats you in the shoulder and pushes you forward just a bit. You press your lips together, taking a deep breath.

You take your knife.

It makes no sound as you slashes It's throat.

It doesn't make you feel better, but it also doesn't make you worse so you take it as a victory.

Mike arrives seconds later, eyes still haunted as they have been since his return, but his smile is calculating, delighted and you are glad that at least you can give him that. He hands you the control of the explosives almost vibrating with excitement.

You all leave together, in deep silence.

Roier helps Jaiden carry Osito's body, Fit helps Tubbo carry Fred's body.

As you stand outside you look at Bagi.

You offer her the control of the explosives and you think you remember the smile she gives you, the way her eyes crinkle on the sides.

You hold her hand as the Federation burns. Roier joins you on the other side, squeezing your hand like a life line.

It's the warmest you have felt in a very long time.

#tw blo0d #qsmp #qsmp writing #and half #qsmp analysis #as is much of the bullshit i write #qsmp cellbit #qsmp etoiles #qsmp bagi #qsmp cucurucho #qsmp philza #qsmp jaiden #qsmp foolish #im not tagging everyone peace out #i wrote this in one sitting #as you can see by how progressively worse it gets lmao

55 notes · View notes

tokiro07 · 3 months

Text

Undead Unluck ch.197 thoughts

[Rider Kick!!!]

(Contents: speculation - Haruka, thematic analysis - life)

Tozuka, we need to talk about your sense for chapter titles. It's "ready, get set, go" not "get set, ready, go." Maybe it's different in Japan?

Anyway

HARUKA DEVELOPMENT!!!

Seeing that Haruka's soul is still her child self from her original backstory, I wonder if we'll be seeing a flashback of how her tragedy was averted. Given Isshin XII's statement that Haruka's heart hasn't matured, my supposition last week that Fuuko's soul resembling her appearance from when she just joined the Union symbolizes that she's the same person at heart seems to have been correct. The shape of a person's soul is a reflection of who they are; Andy is an old soul, Fuuko is a member of the Union, Lucy is a free spirit, and Haruka is a scared child. Cowardice has been a core trait of Haruka's the entire time, and while this arc seemed to suggest that she'd grown out of that between loops, this moment implies that just because she's braver doesn't mean that she isn't scared

Presumably the circumstances of her becoming Unbreakable contributed to her soul taking that shape, a moment in her past that she can't move on from. I doubt her father died the same way this time if at all, but even if it was just the shock of seeing her grandfather die of natural causes, I could see that rooting Haruka's heart in a particular time. It would also be interesting if Tozuka uses that plot point to elaborate on why Haruka got into cobbling, what inspired her to make that choice specifically, and how her relationship with Top developed after she saved his friends. I don't know if that's a story that Tozuka is interested in telling, but it's one I'm interested in reading, for sure!

The other major element of this chapter was Isshin XII's advice to Haruka. "Use the power of those who never merely live and die." Therein lies the thesis statement for this arc and possibly the entire series: "[humans] never merely live and die." We aren't alive just because blood pumps through our veins (Victor's original view) or because we have thoughts in our heads (Andy's original view); we're alive because we can form connections, because we can leave an impact on the world, because we can create

A beast lives on instinct. A beast kills and eats to survive and breed, and one day dies so that something else may feed and survive. As UMA Beast said, beasts do not desire coexistence. I would argue that they don't desire anything, their biology simply compels them to eat and procreate, even if they don't have what we would call an "understanding" of the purpose of their actions

A human, though, can eat to survive, but doesn't have to. Eating can be a purely utilitarian experience, just a way to fuel up the body for the next day, but people don't typically do that. People cook, they maximize the taste of the dish as well as the nutritional value if they even pay attention to it in the first place, and they partake of their meals communally. We do understand the purpose of eating, but that purpose is of secondary concern to anyone outside of a life-or-death scenario; instead, the priority is to enjoy our meals, whether it's through the company we keep, the flavor of the dish, or even simply the joy of creation

And that, I think, is where Unbreakable's true power comes from. Unbreakable isn't slapping two scraps of metal together and calling it a shield, it's an artform, a craft that one dedicates their life to, the culmination of skill and pride passed down for generations. It's not enough to simply know how it works; watching a knitting tutorial on youtube isn't enough to create a beautiful quilt, you have to understand the materials and the tools and the techniques intimately

There's no pride or craftsmanship in Beast simply growing Unbreakable armor. Does a tortoise build its own shell and take pride in it, or does it simply happen to grow around an otherwise oblivious reptile? As I've said a thousand times, Undead Unluck is a series about "the proof of a life lived," and the mastering of an art, the inheritance of a legacy, is just another in a long line of angles that Tozuka has chosen to tackle this theme from

Haruka's new Unbreakable, seemingly able to reconfigure her armor to match someone else, suggests that she has achieved that mastery and pride. Unbreakable is not about rigid conformity to one shape, it's about the ability to adapt to the scenario; "the reed which bends in the wind is stronger than the oak which breaks in a storm." Beast has no understanding or appreciation of the effort that forged Unbreakable itself, much less the armor it creates, and thus does not have the pride nor conviction to allow for it to be flexible or adaptable

Beast has Unbreakable, but he does not have the spirit to create. Beast devalues that which proves that one has lived, and that will ultimately be his undoing

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

#undead unluck #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews

25 notes · View notes

reashot · 2 years

Text

Sorry It took this long I forgot to save my file so I have to rewrite it again but I decided to make it longer as an apology. But here it is finally.

Part 2...

Everyone was in awe seeing the incredibly large dragon Grimm he just summoned. Behind the dragon guarding the summoner. Weiss is currently being held hostage by him. Her sword the Myrtenaster has been taken away from her and her hand bound by some sort of bind made out of ice.

Ruby: Let Go Of Weiss!!! 😫

??? : This is a family matter. Leave us alone or I swear you will wish you haven't intervene.

Jaune: This is your dad speaking if you don't let go of Weiss young man will be grounded for a long time.

??? : Father... Did you seriously think grounding me is going to work?

Weiss: Why on earth do you think that will work?!

Jaune: Look. I'm trying okay!

Weiss: Well try harder you dunce!

??? : *smack* Do I need to remind you that you are a hostage.

Weiss: You hit me?.. How can you hit me I'm your mother!

??? : *punch* 👊 Anything else you like to add. "Mother?"

Everyone: Weiss!!!

Yang: That's it. That SOB is going down... Oops I didn't mean that Weiss!

Blake: Anyway. How do we even get past that Dragon?

Dusk: I'm scared mommy....

Blake: Its okay darling. I'll keep you safe.

Aurum: Allow me... *unsheate sword*

Ruby: Oh that sword looks awesome. 🤤 I mean, have you seen that Dragon. How are you going to go against that? 😵

Aurum: Rest assure Aunt Ruby. My blade the Prominence Flame can cut through anything and there's a reason why I'm called the dragonslayer.

??? : Now that's an arrogance if I say so myself. And I should know. I came from the Schnee's household.

Aurum: You! Tell me your name so I at least know the name of my foe.

??? : Are you stupid or something. Why on earth would I do that? You know what, judging by your getup you probably are one. I mean, golden armor? What kind of thought that goes inside your head to think it's a good idea?

Aurum: My golden armor serves to inspire the men and women under my command. It is symbol of hope, It is a promise that as long as I'm here my ally will have nothing to fear and my enemy will know that I will never be defeated. For I am Aurum Arc. Son of the great Jaune Arc and captain of the Arc Knight. I will say this again tell me your name?

??? : A Knight? How antiquated. Very well since you ask so nicely. My name is Victor Sch... Arc, Victor Arc.

Aurum: Then Victor Arc. Release Weiss Schnee at once this is your last chance.

Victor: Well Sir, Knight unfortunately. I won't. You see dear old mother and me have an unfinished problem. And sir, Knight what if I told you that by killing her you can save countless people in the processes. And what if I told you she will be responsible for numerous atrocities. That I would risk my own existence to try and kill her should be proof of that.

Weiss: ... No, that's not true! That can't possibly be right...

Scarlett: Yeah that's a load of baloney. The Miss Schnee I know is a really nice lady. And she and her husband mister Neptune always treat me to ice cream whenever I come to visit. 😫

Aurum: And the Weiss Schnee I knew married Ruby Rose. So she can't possibly have a son.

Ruby: Wait what!? I mean I don't swing that way, maybe I just don't know it yet and I kinda think some women are nice to look at... I mean no. I only like Jaune okay!!! 😖

Blake: Wait could it be that Jaune didn't actually have children with everyone of us in the future. Maybe all the childrens are from different timeline.

Yang: Wait so Jaune didn't really going to knock us up in the future? Phewww! I'm glad I didn't smash Jaune's family jewels. I mean the idea of Jaune having a harem with us is ridiculous.

Jaune: That's what I keep telling you!

Ruby: I knew it! There's no way Jaune would cheat on me! So Victor that means you can let Weiss go. Because she's not your Weiss. 😌

Victor: Oh of course! Here let me let her go... Did you really think it will be that simple. We don't know that for certain. I'm still here meaning that she still able to give birth to me. If there's a different timeline that means there are other Weiss I just need to kill as many as I can until I found the right one. If I get the wrong one at least I will get the satisfaction of killing her.

Ruby: You're insane! Give us back our Weiss! 😩

Victor: That's because you don't know how evil my mother is! Did you know that Ruby Rose died in my world. Under my mother's order I killed her using this same sword I hold now. That should give you an idea why I want her dead. If I can at least prevent another death by killing her I would do it. Even if I have to kill as many Weisses as I can.

Ruby: I died... 😶

Yang: But that's not our Weiss even if she is. That's a different Weiss. And that doesn't give you the right to end her life.

Aurum: Mother do not waste thine breath. He have already made up his mind to kill Weiss. What he's doing now is trying to find justification to do it.

Victor: Oh turns out you are smarter than you look. My offers still stand step aside and let me finish her and I will let you all live. Don't. And I will kill everyone here... I see there's no one here with a common sense. Fafnir, kill 'em all.

The blade then starts to glow brighter and hotter until the heat are fully concentrated in the sword. Aurum then closes in on the Dragon and effortlessly cuts it into multiple pieces. The scene of a knight cutting a dragon with ease looks like something out of a picture book that Ruby used to read as a child.

Victor : What the Fuc*!!! How is that even possible?! Fafnir are among my strongest summoned Grimm.

Scarlett: OMG so awesome 👁️👄👁️

Yang: Wow, so that's my son. Maybe I should consider dating Jaune if my kid can become badasses like him.

Jaune: Weiss is right there's no way he could be my son.

Aurum: I'm still not as strong as my father it seems... Release Weiss Schnee at once. Vile fiend!

Victor : No... She's rather useful to me unfortunately.

Aurum: Hiding behind a hostage. Have you no shame, fiend?!

Victor : It's called strategy dumbfuc* if you think I'm going to give up my only leverage then you are indeed just as dumb as I thought initially.

With a swing of his sword he summons multiple Glyphs on the ground to summoned Grimms. At first it's ten, then tens of ten then hundreds and finally thousands. The Grimm he summoned looks like a smaller version of an Arma Gigas with different weapons.

Weiss: No, it's impossible... No one can summon this many Grimms without their Aura running out ages ago.

Victor: My personal limit is 10 thousands, right now though I only summoned 2000. I think I can summon more, but I never had to on the account that my enemy tends to be dead before I need to summon more.

Weiss: But how is that even possible?

Victor: You can thanked dear old father for that.

Weiss: And why do you need to summon so many Grimms. There's no war in Remnant?

Victor: ...There's no war in yours, but there's one in mine.

Weiss: What?

Victor: Enough. Stay and watch everyone die. Geisttroopers forward. Infantry at the front and ranged units at the back. Kill everyone on sight but spare Father. He doesn't deserve to die...

Ruby: There's so many of them. 😫

Yang: C'mon Ruby. We can do it. You can take a few hundred over there. I'll take a few hundred over here.

Blake: Get behind me Dusk I'll keep you safe.... Dusk? Where are you Dusk?!

Jaune: Oh no, we're bad parents!

Scarlett: I'm good but even I don't think I can beat this many. Hey bigger bro can you help me beat them? 😉

Aurum: Of course little sister. With us working together nothing can stop us.

Victor: Now watch mother as my troops will finish off your friends... What the Fuc*!

Aurum: Huzzah! *melted through all of the Geisttroopers like it was made of butter*

Scarlett: Hyah! *hack and scythe through the Geisttroopers* 😈

Yang: I guess we don't have to do anything. Geez what do they feed children in the future?

Ruby: Oh! My daughter are so awesome. And look at Scarlett's weapon. Is that an upgraded form of Crescent Rose? 😍

Scarlett: That's right mom. This is Crescent Rose mk. 20. We made this weapon together. It can switch between scythe and voulge. And not only that it can switch between three different gun type. 🤓

Ruby: AHHH!!! My daughter is so awesome! And we share the same interest. 🤯 Jaune when we come back. We better start making her. I won't take no for an answer.

Jaune: Ruby please don't joke around! We need to save Weiss first. And then find Dusk because we can't find her.

Blake: In case you were wondering we didn't lose her. And we're not bad parent.

Ruby: (Who says I'm joking 😏) Oh no that's terrible. Let me cheer you up later Jaune... In my room. 🤫

Victor: How. How!? Each of my Geisttroopers are as strong as a veteran huntsman. There's no way they can be defeated this easily by just the two of them?

Weiss: Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha...

Victor: Anything you like to say mother?

Weiss: Oh I was wondering how long does it take for you to notice that I'm no longer in bondage.

Weiss shows off her hands to show to him that she's free. Victor then looks for her sword and realizes that her sword is floating in mid air but then it's quickly revealed that the floating sword was merely being held by a faunus child.

Victor: Invisibility Semblance. That's a neat trick there, kid. You must be Blake Belladonna's daughter?

Dusk: Please call off your monsters. Mister that looks like my daddy...

Victor: I'm sorry kid but I can't. I'm sorry. But I will spare you too at least.

Weiss: Yeah, my sentiment exactly. *slash*

Victor: *parry* Oh please, mother do you think I don't see your surprise attack. You're the one that taught me that. "Strike the enemy when they're distracted Victor."

Weiss: Don't call me that I'm not your Mother! And you're not my son!

Victor: Well let put those theory to rest. If I kill you and I disappear then I'm right and if I killl you and I didn't disappear then I will admit I was wrong.

Weiss: I'll still die regardless!

Victor: Oh. What will be, will be.

The two then continue to trade insults and slashes with one another. Myrtenaster and Myrtenaster clash with one another. Mother and her supposed son will battle until one of them die. Their sword fighting left Dusk in awe. Weiss's form are beautiful and elegant while Victor's form are fast and brutal.

Weiss: Hah! Such brutish way of fighting are not what I expected from a Schnee.

Victor: Typical mother, never satisfied with everything I did. Even when I did your bidding. You know you always complained about grandfather but you are just the same as him as it turns out.

Weiss: Don't you dare compares me to my father!!!

Victor: And mother. The reason my swordplay are not as refined as yours is because my sword are not for ballroom dancing but made for actual war. *grabs her hand and slash her through her aura*

Weiss: AHHHH!!!! *slumps on the ground in pain*

Victor: Can't have you die yet. I need to make you understand what you did to me.

Weiss: HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!

Victor: I see you have lost your mind...

Weiss: Ha... No. But I will admit that you are my son. You are just as ruthless, vindictive and cunning as I am. If you were my father's son he would have been proud of you.

Victor: Is there a point to this?

Weiss: But what I will not accept is that you are Jaune's son! Jaune is weak, he is a dunce, he is unreliable, but he is kind to a fault, he always put others before himself, he especially will never say such harmful things to me and hurt me in anyway. And that is why I Love him!!!

Dusk: 😱

Victor: Is that all? Very well... What the heck is that!

Jaune: Move out of the way!!!

Victor sees his father flying or more like thrown his way most likely by the golden giant. He did as his father said and moves slightly off the way of the speeding Jaune and so he crashed near him.

Aurum: Excellent thinking father! By screaming loudly at the enemy you managed to grab his attention so he will leave Weiss alone.

Jaune: *grunt in pain* yep totally was planning that...

Weiss: Jaune I knew you... I mean what took you so long you doofus!!?

Victor: Father! What on earth were you thinking you could have killed yourself!

Jaune: Look. I don't know what happened between you and Weiss. But I'm not going to let you kill her. If there's a problem we can help you. You don't have to hurt her or do it alone.

Aurum: Father is right. Little brother whatever it is we can help you.

Victor: I am not your brother! Fath... No Jaune you don't get to act like a father when my own father were never there and stop my mother!

Jaune: Never there?... I died in your timeline aren't I?

Weiss: No... It can't be.

Everyone: 😯

Victor: How did you know?

Jaune: Because you just said that I was never there. Which only mean two things. Either I left you and Weiss or that I died. And since I will never abandon my family that can only mean that I died.

Weiss: How did it happened?

Victor: I guess everyone deserves to know the truth... Mom the truth is you destroyed the world.

_____________________________________________

And that's the end of part 2 of Jaune's children AU. Sorry if it end on a cliffhanger but good news Part 3 will be the end and same as usual I will post it if it gain enough traction. Scarlett's brother will also makes an appearance in the next part to help our heroes.

172 notes · View notes

hopepetal · 1 year

Text

This is for the double life enjoyers <3

Sitting astride her donkey, Pearl kept her eyes peeled as she traveled through the forest. The sun was setting, so she urged her donkey to go a little faster. Nothing good would come from being trapped in the forest at night, with mobs and red names on the prowl. Spying her base in the distance, Pearl breathed out a sigh of relief upon seeing that it was (mostly) intact, her shoulders relaxing as she approached the place that had kept her safe for so long.

Speaking of red names, however...

Pearl heard them before she saw them, the glint of armor and the shine of bloodred eyes that lusted for death. Keeping her voice light and nonthreatening, she called out, “Do I have some red names around my base again?”

Bdubs whipped around, his eyes shining. He gave her a toothy grin. “Helloooo, Pearl!”

Pearl gently pulled on the reins, bringing her donkey to a stop. “Hi... you're not here to burn it, are you? The server is burning!” Because everyone decided to make wooden bases as usual, having clearly learnt nothing from the previous games. And now that the majority of the server was red, the fire wars had begun.

Bdubs shook his head. “I can't burn a tower!” As he spoke, Impulse rode up beside him on a horse. Pearl felt herself tense again, now alone with not one but two reds. That was never a good predicament, even if she did have her dogs.

Opening her mouth to speak, Pearl was interrupted by the little ‘ding’ of a notification on her communicator. Checking it briefly, she had to do a double take. Judging by the exclamations from the soulbound pair in front of her, they were doing the same.

“Falling stalagtites?!" Bdubs shouted, saying stalactite completely wrong. “Wait, was that it?! Did they just-?”

Pearl gripped her communicator tightly, ghosting her thumb over the names on her screen. “They just- they just died! To a stally- to a stalitite!” What? It was a hard word to say! “When was that?” After a moment to process, Pearl urged her donkey forward. It had become night during the course of their conversation, and she was itching to get home. She felt an arrow whoosh past her, barely missing. Bdubs, clearly. “You get your butts out of here and go check on whatever's going on! Oh my gosh…” Briefly watching to make sure both Impulse and Bdubs were riding away, she turned back toward her base.

As she got closer to the tall tower, Pearl noticed a horse in the ground, golden armor glinting in the faint starlight. “Why is there a horse...?” Approaching the horse cautiously, she hopped off her donkey and tied it to a nearby tree before crouching by the edge of the hole the horse was stuck in. “Hey there, lil fella.” She reached out and gently scratched the horse under its chin. “What are you doing down there?” Glancing up at the dark sky, Pearl frowned. This would have to be dealt with in the morning, when there wasn't a danger of being blown to bits.

Worn down by exhaustion, she stumbled into her base, and that was the last thing she remembered before everything went black.

–

Scott and Cleo were traveling through the forest on their horses, laughing as they sped away from the red lives that shouted after them.

“Poor Bdubs,” Scott gasped out in between his laughter, “trying to get all the reds to do the same thing and be coordinated is harder than getting a bunch of teenagers to listen to their parents.”

Cleo barked out a laugh, shaking their head. “Right? That’s a good thing for us, at least.” They urged their horse forward with a soft command, Scott falling a little behind them as his horse kept at a more steady pace. “Means we can survive just a little more easily.”

“True, true,” Scott admitted, relaxing his grip on the reins. Despite his calm demeanor, he had to admit he was a little tense. Being around reds did that to you, it was a scary time in the life games whenever they were near. Scott knew firsthand the bloodlust and rage they all experienced, having been the victor of the previous game. “But our soulmates being who they are kinda cancels out that ‘ease of survival’ factor.”

Cleo groaned loudly. “Oh, don’t even. Your insane soulmate is nothing but trouble. At least mine isn’t as unhinged! He at least tried to make up with me!”

Scott laughed. “The server’s homophobic anyway. Doesn’t it know I’m a gay man?”

Cleo made a strangled sound that sounded somewhat like a laugh. “Scott!”

“What? It’s true-!”

The immediate, surging pain that didn’t belong to him ripped a strangled, pained scream that made him briefly black out. He woke up on the ground, unable to breathe, the impact against the ground having knocked all the air from his chest. Cleo, having jumped off her horse, stood over him, frantically shouting something that didn’t quite make it past the ringing in Scott’s ears.

“...what… Pearl… stupid-!” Cleo was saying, gesturing frantically before a strange expression settled on their face. They dropped to their knees, rifling through their inventory as fast as they could.

Scott coughed painfully, blood leaking from the side of his mouth and dripping down his chin. White-hot pain shot through his entire body, and the fact that the pain was lessened for the soulmate was impossible for him to comprehend. Surely it couldn’t get any worse than this. Surely there was no way Pearl was feeling even more pain than he was and still alive.

But the fact was that he still breathed, that his heart still beat meant that Pearl was alive, and so was he. And if she was alive, that meant she was dealing with about twice the pain he was. Alone. Scott didn’t really have the time or presence of mind to feel guilty though, not before something cold and tasting of magic was shoved into his mouth, and he bit down instinctively.

Immediately the pain cleared, the shock of artificial regeneration clearing Scott’s mind as he swallowed what he supposed was a piece of a golden apple. He spent a moment just laying on the ground staring at Cleo as he struggled to process what had just happened. She had a sort of guilty expression on her face, but one that said she didn’t regret anything at the same time.

Taking in a deep breath, Scott sat up, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Cleo put a hand on his shoulder, and he sighed. “Thanks, Cleo. We need to go check on Pearl.”

She didn’t even question him, only nodding and helping him stand. Picking up the golden apple, Scott placed it in his inventory just in case Pearl needed it. What was the harm- he had already broken his connection to Pearl by eating it, it wasn’t as though she’d be breaking the rules more than he had. They got back on their horses and rode toward Pearl’s base, the tall tower of cobblestone and deepslate that held that tiny little wooden hut in the air.

The scene was an absolute nightmare. The smell of gunpowder clued Scott into what had happened right away, and he cursed. Of course Pearl would get herself caught in an explosion. She wouldn’t have thought to double check. Urging his horse forward, he cleared the trees and saw firsthand how bad it was.

Pearl was trapped under a huge chunk of stone, unconscious as blood trickled down her chin, pooling in a small puddle beneath her head. One of her dogs- Tilly, Scott assumed, given how much love she had expressed for the dog before- lay next to her, whining and sniffing her hair, even pawing at her in an attempt to get her to stand. Scott felt his throat constrict. Now that he was in his right mind, guilt shot through him. She looked so small and helpless- and he had been calling her insane just a few moments ago.

Hopping off of his horse, Scott was followed by Cleo as they began to carefully and silently dig Pearl out of the rubble. It was a good thing they had all become more muscular over the course of the game, because Scott would never have been able to help lift the rubble before. Once everything had been shifted off of Pearl, Cleo pulled out a health potion. “Should we use this on her, or just wait?”

Scott frowned. “I was thinking of using the golden apple, but…” He pulled it from his inventory, noticing how the skin was rapidly turning brown. “...it seems that whatever runs this game noticed what I was planning. That’s a shame.”

Cleo shrugged. “Potion it is, then. I knew I had a good reason for making it a splash one…” She took a step back before throwing the bottle, watching the glass shatter and the effects take hold.

Scott looked at them in confusion. “Why’d you make it splash if you didn’t know you were going to need it?” he asked, receiving an amused smile in response. “What? It’s a valid question!” he defended, earning a laugh.

“For you, of course! In case you started rapidly losing health for some reason-” And she glanced at Pearl when she said that- “and weren’t able to regen fast enough or something. It was just in case,” she repeated, “I was worried!”

Scott smiled back, letting out a small huff. “Well, I appreciate the thought. Thank you, Cleo.”

A soft groan drew the pair’s attention. Tilly whined again, nuzzling against Pearl’s cheek before giving her blood stained face a gentle lick. Pearl groaned again, her eyes opening slightly before she closed them again with a gentle sigh. The health potion, while it had worked, hadn’t been quite as strong as Scott had hoped. But still, they didn’t have any other supplies they could waste on Pearl. Despite their bond in the past game, Scott felt absolutely no loyalty to her now. None at all. Absolutely not. He was not still yearning for past friendships in the slightest.

Okay, yeah, he absolutely was.

Nevertheless. Despite his feelings, all Scott did was stand there and wait for Pearl to wake up.

–

Pearl woke to the sound of a dog’s soft panting and gentle kisses. Opening her eyes, she saw Tilly’s face immediately and mumbled out a soft, “good girl” before closing her eyes again. Everything hurt and she didn’t know why and all Pearl wanted to do was to go home, curl up, and sleep for a thousand years.

And then she remembered where she was.

“Scott-” Her eyes flew open as she remembered that she wasn’t just responsible for herself, but her soulmate as well. He must be furious, if not incapacitated from the pain. She had put them both in danger once again, without thinking. If he had-

“Hey, Pearl.” The familiar voice of her soulmate made Pearl gasp, and she looked over to see him standing there next to Cleo.

Unharmed.

Holding a rotting golden apple with a slice taken from it.

Pearl was quick to put the pieces together.

“You...” Pearl's voice was raspy, scratching against her throat in a way that made her cough painfully, “you ate the golden apple?” It may have been the pain, or maybe she had been hit in the head by some debris, but there was a delirious sort of denial in her voice. “Scott, that's against the rules...”

Scott's gaze was every bit of cold dismissal- though Pearl wanted to believe that she saw a flash of guilt in those eyes, even if just for a moment. “Given I was partnered with you, I had to break the rules for a chance to win. Besides, what's this stupid game going to do to me? Kill me?” He let out a sharp laugh. “News flash!! I'm going to die anyway! So why would I rather go out a loser than a winner?”

Pearl tried to push herself up, wincing when a sharp pain shot through her ribs and legs. She couldn't help but notice that her pain wasn't mirrored by Scott– her one and only, her tether, her soulmate.

Maybe it was never meant to be. Just like nations rose and fell, love was bound to do the same– even if there was nothing in Scott's heart for her to begin with. It still felt wrong, no matter how Pearl tried to deny the longing she felt seeing all the other soulmates getting on just fine while she was alone. The rules of the game had been clear– you have three lives, a soulmate, and an unspoken but clear need to be near your bond. She supposed the third unspoken rule wasn't official for a reason, and Scott had taken advantage of that.

Maybe it was something to do with Pearl. Everyone seemed to think so, anyway. “Crazy!” they shouted at her, “Wicked!” they cried from afar, “Witch!” they screamed while dying, dying in the arms of their soulmates. And maybe it was true. Maybe Pearl was all of these things. She probably deserved this, if she was being perfectly honest. The pain was welcome, but that didn't stop it from hurting.

Nothing stopped it from hurting. Nothing stopped her from hurting. She was destined to hurt. That's all she was good for, after all. If she wasn't good enough for her soulmate, then she wasn't good enough for anything. If the one person who was bound to her by the universe refused her, then what was stopping everyone else from doing the same thing?

Pearl laughed, even as tears burned down her face.

#my writing #angst #double life #dlsmp #double life fanfic #dlsmp fanfic #pearlescentmoon #smajor #scott smajor #pearl #zombiecleo #cleo #soulmates #life series #trafficblr

86 notes · View notes

sealrock · 4 months

Text

the order of saint jehanne ; a look into the past

motto: rage of the fury, temperance of the maiden

active: c. 1410-1558 (148 years)

the order of saint jehanne, sometimes known as the blue sorority, was an officially endorsed ishgardian military order comprised of female knights and were active participants in the dragonsong war. fighting alongside their brothers in arms roughly 150 years since they've been founded, the order set an example for coerthan women everywhere.

rich or poor, young or old, the order accepted any who would answer the call. the knights that joined the order, known by the commoners as 'swordsisters', served for life. taking a strict vow of celibacy and following the creed of the order's patron saint, the swordsisters dedicated their waking moments to honoring the fury, helping the destitute, and striking down the dravanian horde at any cost.

history:

'the blessed one, jehanne tarc' (c. 1340) painted by beittent de tofaux (1276-1356), oil on canvas

jehanne tarc (c. 1154-1173), once a poor farmgirl in the coerthan lowlands, lived a short but illustrious life that propelled her to sainthood two hundred years after her death. hers is a tale that's been spoken by bards and idolized by the smallfolk long after she returned to the earth: guided by visions from none other than the fury herself, jehanne led a campaign of victorious battles against the dravanian horde, only to fall in a fiery blaze by her archenemies.

purportedly the third daughter of eight children, jehanne lived a simple and uneventful life. she was fourteen when she received her first vision of halone, surrounded by her valiant knights in resplendent golden armor; it was said she wept for days afterward for that she could not believe the fury would reveal herself to such a lowly servant. the visions continued soon after that, but instead of being fearful, jehanne fully embraced her visitations—even if no one believed her.

around this time, rumors of a prophecy descended from the highlands about an armored maiden would come forth and strike a grievous blow against nidhogg's horde. lady reinette also lived in the same period as jehanne, but she had already put down her lance to devote herself to the church after avenging her beloved.

at sixteen, jehanne's family was killed when the village was razed to the ground by amelth, a fiercesome and high-ranking dragon with impenetrable scales that has already devastated the armed forces of the holy see's temple knights. believing the prophecy to be true and seeking revenge, jehanne rode to the capital and demanded an audience with the archbishop of the period. backed by her visions of the fury, jehanne was given the archbishop's blessing to fight. with no military training or skills in weaponry, jehanne quickly proved herself to be blessed by the fury. her arrival bolstered the moral of the troops no one has seen before or since her death, and with her leading the charge the holy see managed to drive back the horde at a pace no one could believe.

at eighteen, jehanne struck down amelth; for three days and three nights, they fought a bitter battle that ultimately ended with jehanne as the victor. with so many battles won, the people of ishgard viewed her as the fury reborn. but with all good things, they must come to an end. a year later, jehanne was nineteen years old when she was killed in retaliation by amelth's brood. facing death unflinchingly, jehanne's life was snuffed out by dragonfire.

surprisingly, the church was slow to canonize jehanne as a saint, much like they did saint reinette, despite her glories and virtures. in 1309, jehanne was beatified and canonized as a virgin saint to the cheers of the lowlands who had venerated her. it would take another century before the military order would be founded in her name. with much of her life embellished by folktales and song, jehanne continues to inspire many of the commonfolk.

during her life, jehanne never wavered in her faith and maintained her maidenhood when many men wanted her hand in marriage. she devoted herself fully to halone, and in death her virginity was recognized as her most admirable trait. this sentiment was followed by the order to the fullest, its swordsisters vowing to never fall in love with anyone, for their mission would be compromised by mortal desires.

insignia:

the order's coat of arms was humble in design; its chequy pattern of white and blue was not meant to be excessive or ostentatious, much like the order's patron saint. the white symbolized the swordsisters' unwavering and unsullied purity, while the blue represented the fury's grace and divine favor to her knights.

attire:

the order, being both a military unit and a community of religious sisters, has two modes of dress: combat and clerical.

the order's combat uniform consists of the medium armor variety—a mix of leather, metal, and chainmail. the tunic worn by the swordsisters consists of the same chequy pattern as their coat of arms, quickly distinguishing themselves from temple knights and dragoons alike. the helms worn by the order offers protection in close-quarters combat: while other knights wear enclosed helms in battle, the order opted to use a crowned mail coif with an open, but barred, visor to improve vision.

while most can identify the order's offensive soldiers, those who wield swords, lances, and maces, the order carries defensive swordsisters who are the healers and mages of their units. they wear the same uniform as the offense.

when not in active duty, members of the order fulfill their daily tasks around their convents in their clerical dress. more ornate (and at times offensive to the more conservative members of the church) than a simple nun's habit, it follows the same pattern of elements with the tunic, coif and veil, but decorated with stripes and jewels.

internal organization:

the order has a hierarchy like any other order in coerthas. while it's easier to refer to everyone in the order as swordsister, they are organized by 'levels':

quaternaire: aka the reverend mother. an elderly head of the order usually elected with votes after serving half of her life to the organization. like her name suggests, the reverend mother runs the convent much like a parent would, with a strict no-nonsense attitude. she received the vows of the swordsisters, admit new candidates, or send them out on missionary work or to the battlefield to offer aid.

tertiaire: after a certain amount of years have passed, or if the younger sister excelled in her work, she'll graduate to become a tertiaire, or 'older sister'. these swordsisters are most common in the field as their survival skills, discipline, and dedication lead them to confront dragons head on. besides combat expertise, some older sisters are more adept to administrative work, performing religious rites, and overlooking the younger sisters and novices.

secondaire: primaires who pass the training are officially initiated into the order, thus becoming secondaires. they are called 'younger sister [x]' as a form of address. contact with the outside world would be cut off from this point forward. the initiate would then receive a new name chosen from the church's beatified saints or known virtues to signify her 'death' to the world. these new sisters continue to receive training from the higher-ups, and their responsibilities are given based on skill. they apprentice under the older sisters in the field and in the convent.

primaire: fresh faces to the order who must undergo a rigorous, and often torturous, physical and mental training initiation that last for one year. during this period, novices are not addressed with special titles, they're allowed to maintain contact with family and friends, and if they choose to, leave the order if they're not capable of enduring the training. novices endure no penalty.

the training initiation does not spare bright-eyed girls and women from its wrath; most novices leave after 3 months of training. only the resolute and pious souls of halone are able to suffer through it. it was modeled after the trials of saint jehanne to bring those closer to the tribulations she once did.

even after becoming a swordsister, one must continue to prove their worth to the saint and to grow closer to the fury through mortifying their flesh (abstinence, self-flagellation, wearing a chain cilice, steam baths as penance). to know what the patron saint went through, the swordsisters put aside their apprehension to train both body and soul in the ways of the maiden. their faith makes it so they can stare down the enemy with no fear.

the end of the line:

once a woman is initiated, she cannot leave under any circumstances. to serve halone is to serve for life, and that means laying down your life in the name of the fury without fear. a swordsister renounces worldly pleasures in the name of her patron saint, and to consider leaving is akin to heresy in the order, often punishable by death.

alas, their mission was cut short by one of their own. the order was destroyed from within by someone whose heart was anchored with mortal desires and temptations. none survived except for the traitor.

older sister tauvane, now tauvane the godless, turned her back on her swordsisters. once a bastard babe born in the sins of her parents, she was given to the care of the swordsisters who treated her as one of their own. while society didn't accept her, the order saw her as who she was: a lost lamb needing guidance. but she committed the ultimate form of treachery in the act of love.

a young temple knight, a heretic injured in battle and nursed back to health by sister tauvane, lured her away from the order. justice was wrought on the nonbeliever, but tauvane retaliated in the most horrific way imaginable: aligning herself with the enemy. the order of saint jehanne was wiped out by tauvane, once a beloved sister and friend, in the year 1558. she nows leads a crusade of her own—a war with the holy see in the name of her beloved.

may the fury receive her flock with open arms and cast down the wicked.

#meta.#trying something different don't mind me #some tauvane backstory :]#this is so long holy shit. my longest meta post yet #but i actually like how tauvane's developed to this point. it finally makes sense now that she wants to see ishgard burn #all of this to say that tauvane did Not feel accepted by the order at all and was worse off there than back home #she went from a warrior nun to an (exonerated) enemy of the state #mygposes.

11 notes · View notes

i-eat-deodorant · 5 months

Note

PAVIIIII TELL ME ABOUT THE STABBY STABBY ONE

[WIP ASKS]

“You’re new,” says the guard at the wooden gates–a dark salamander clad in bronze ceremonial armor. “Come to try your luck in the Colosseum?”

You nod, the hilt of your machete gripped in your hand. Her companion, a surly bison with a spear, snorts up a plume of dust. “Tadpole won’t make it past the first heat.”

“Nonsense. Besides, Lady Famine is always eager to see new blood. You came at the right time; this summer’s drought has been hitting these lands hard. Lots of contenders flocking to Anura to have a last hurrah at the jackpots. It’s always entertaining, the lengths those ones go when they’re desperate.” She smiles, serrated teeth glinting beneath the shadow of her warhelm. “They’re hungry. We all are. But the audience? They’re ravenous.”

There’s a shrill whistling cry on the other side of the gate, quickly drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Immediately Bison is at attention, pressing back against the door, white-knuckled. “That poor chap bit it. Was it one of the ones you bid on, by any chance?”

“Nope,” Salamander says. A trumpet call echoes into the clear blue skies. “And that’s the signal to send in another gladiator. Well, tadpole–last a little longer than the previous guy, will ya?”

And with a grunt, a shove, and a groaning creak of hinges, the double gates open, and you’re ushered in.

The first thing that hits you is how massive it all is: an architectural wonder carved out of the remnants of a meteor strike, all sun-baked clay and hewn stone; it spirals downwards like an open maw, emptying deep into the bowels of the gladiatorial arena. Onlookers teem its upper rings–more people than you’ve ever thought existed, much less crowded into a single stadium. From your place at the bottom, they all look like termites, small and insignificant.

On the raised dias across from you is a throne, studded with the menticide mushrooms native to Anura. It’s relatively plain, but what grandeur it misses in extravagance it makes up for in sheer size; towering over the onlooker seats, the throne is almost a hundred times wider than you are tall. You can fit an entire cabin on the seat alone.

Heket’s throne, empty.

Applause from the crowd surges up like a vital wave. It tides over the drumming of your still-beating heart, the thud of the burp hopper as its corpse twitches its last death throes. In a matter of hours, its bile will eat its way out of its venom sacs, corroding flesh and cartilage until there’s nothing left but bleached white bones.

The ground moves like a hungering beast, swallowing the corpses until there’s no evidence that either the burp hopper or the previous challenger existed. Anuran dirt is always red. A perfect color, you think, to hide a body.

A coin falls from the upper stands, clinking gently as it hits the ground. Another follows, then another, then another, until the sand twinkles with the sunshower of gold.

You stoop to grab them. The insignia–a five-pointed star, each point corresponding to a bishop–glints cheerfully as you hold them up to the midday sun. These are the common currency of all lands conquered by the Old Faith, accepted by almost every town and wandering trader. You can use these to buy you a tavern to sleep in for the night, a better sword, or even a respectable suit of armor. Earn more, and you can send your wealth home to share with your family.

The cornucopia. Not an official term by any means, but name passed around well-worn rumors and regaled in hopeful legends of victors (never the losers). The more you win, the more people will bet on you. The more people who bet on you, the more money exchanges hands. And that money trickles down to you. Those who fight well enough, skilled enough, hard enough–they’ll be granted the attention of Lady Famine herself. Cornucopia. Fame beyond borders, wealth to fill a treasury, connections with the highest echelons of the Old Faith. The blessing of a god is not one to be taken lightly.

If you win…well. You’ll ask her to send all of that back to your family.

The recent drought is hitting hard for them. The rivers have all dried up along with this year’s crop, cutting off both their means of transport to the market and any hope of harvest for the winter. The youth were fleeing the town in droves, but your parents and younger siblings were too weak to brave the trek of wilderness to the nearest towns. They sent you, with armor and their last rations and their final hopes, to gamble on the waiting jaws of death.

That night, you dream of red soil, thirsting for blood.

that one was a heket/reader one-shot that took place pre-TOWW imprisonment, when the Old Faith was at the height of its power. heket would host gladiatorial contests in the capital of anura, a glorified fight pit where followers would fight to the death for her entertainment. because of the high death rate, the only ones that participated where stupid...or desperate.

i wrote it in response to an anon ask requestiong heket/reader, but ultimately scrapped it because i just ran into a brick wall where i had no clue where to go next and how to get there. xreader stuff isn't really my thing? and the worldbuilding steam i had at the start kinda fell through.

but yeah. anuran fight pit is a hell of a drug ig

#I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED ABOUT THIS ONE #since it's discontinued i'm more willing to worddump #and there's actually quite a bit #my asks #heket beloved <3

14 notes · View notes

lit-works · 2 months

Text

The DoomWars

Dr.Victor Von Doom had been a deposed monarch for several years, his throne usurped by none other than Dr.Victor Von Doom himself. Victor had woven scheme upon intricate scheme during his life, with only one of those plans going awry. His goal to live beyond his own death had worked too well.

The Latverian ruler had programmed one of his legion of Doombots to imprint his own memories and brain engrams onto his adopted son, Kristoff. When Dr.Doom was later presumed dead, the robot obeyed it's programming and Kristoff essentially became Dr.Doom.

Kristoff (referred to as Doom the 2nd) had inherited his father's arrogant pride, a serious flaw, and Doom II halted the memory transfer process before it was complete, this he gained only partial knowledge of his foes and the world around him. For example, Kristoff only had Victor’s early memories of Reed Richards and The Fantastic Four, plus his own more recent experiences. Once he had failed to destroy the Fantastic Four because he was literally unaware of The Invisible Woman’s force field ability. Doom II was captured and stripped of his armored metal exoskeleton by The Fantastic Four.

At the time, Doom was believed to be dead at the hands of Tyros the Terrible and the Silver Surfer, his body reduced to loose atoms during a clash between weilders of the power cosmic. In truth, Victor transferred his consciousness into a bystander’s body, and soon took steps to recreate his own form. After The Beyonder returned Doom to his rightful body, Victor soon attempted to use Franklin Richards’ reality-altering mutant abilities to free his mother's tortured soul from the nether realm of Mephisto. During Franklin’s kidnapping, Kristoff was able to escape confinement and also return to Latveria.

After Doom’s plans with his rival’s son dissolved, he found that Doom II had seized the reins of power in his homeland of Latveria. Victor Von Doom was forced out of his own country, an exiled leader foiled by his own plans. Since Doom II’s rise to power the two Dooms had clashed on numerous occassions. Both had used pawns and hirelings, and neither had much success. For the past year or so, the overt clashes between the two Dooms had reached a state of detente. However, both have been preparing for the next and potentially ‘final’ confrontation…

#marvel #marvel comics #marvel characters #comic books #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #l1t3rat1 #my fanfiction #fanfiction #dr. doom #victor von doom #mister fantastic #reed richards #franklin richards #susan storm #the invisible woman #kristoff doom #doom

7 notes · View notes

twistedisciple · 2 months

Note

As they are considering what items to choose from the selection provided to victors, Ninian looks to the side to see Griss holding up seashells that appear to be intended for use as chest armor. Somehow it doesn't surprise her that he would cover as little of his chest as possible, though it is fascinating that such an item exists at all; human bodies are so very fragile, and still they are willing to wear such little protection (or none at all, but Sir Griss’ liking of pain is unconventional). While she considered the shells herself earlier, they will surely serve him better: little protection is better than none, and she can rely on her true form’s scales besides.

“A stylish choice, Sir Griss,” she comments quietly, with a small smile. “They suit you, and I'm glad to know you'll have some form of protection.”

“You got a weird sense of style,” Griss quips. He’d been trying to figure out what exactly he was holding for the past few minutes, twine strung between his hands, concentration fixed on the pair of palm-sized scallop shells that hung from it. He glances sidelong at the dragon, then back at the ornament. That’s what it had to be: an ornament. Or— he drops one side of it and swings the other around his finger. A weapon? Without much weight on it, it flutters and flaps— maybe a distraction?

Stylish… Protection…

The serrated edge of one of the shells nicks his wrist and an epiphany lights up his eyes.

“Right.” He catches the twine between both hands again, and then starts to tie it to the leather straps that run beneath both of his arms. “I dunno about protection…” He didn’t need that anyway. These are something better. He slaps the shells against his chest when he’s done, and they bite flesh just like cilices. Ninian’s concern gets another round of his rough laughter.

“But they’re gonna hurt so good!”

Even if he’d have the outline of two palm-sized shells imprinted on his chest for days to come.

#ninisdance #toaboel2024 #// saga of the two shells ha #// thank you ninian and anna for looking out for him #// even if he’s just going to laugh in both of their faces #// griss out here confidently and masculinely wearing a mermaid bra for round 2 #// (gets ko’d anyway)

9 notes · View notes

leelany-world · 1 year

Text

DBH Rarepairsweek: First Meeting (North x Chloe)

@dbhrarepairs DBH rarepairsweek 6, Day 6, prompt: First Meetings

Words: 3,232 Relationships: North x Chloe Additional Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), New Jericho (Detroit: Become Human), Falling In Love, First Kiss, Sweet badass Chloe, smitten badass North, Kidnapping, DBH Rarepairs Week Summary: “I’m Chloe,” she introduced herself when she reached her and North didn’t react—couldn’t react. North was speechless. But North was never speechless. At that moment, however, she didn't even know her own name when all she could think of was that cute smile and those curious, big, blue eyes looking at her expectantly. The charm Chloe exuded had caught her off guard, and in person it was even stronger than on TV. “I…,” North couldn't say more when her voice modulator stopped working.

First Meeting

North was angry.

She stormed down the stairs, fists clenched and teeth gritted. Every approaching android jumped out of her way, afraid to experience her wrath.

She wasn't always angry, as everyone always assumed, but at that moment she was.

The day had finally come when they would discuss with CyberLife's new and former CEO Elijah Kamski any unresolved issues regarding the future welfare of androids. He had reclaimed the company and wanted to come to negotiate further action with the androids, because they needed supplies to survive, such as thirium and spare parts, as well as repairs that were only available from CyberLife. In addition, the CyberLife Tower was to become the new headquarters of the androids.

But with Markus, Connor, Simon and Josh still stuck in a meeting with President Warren, North had to go and greet Kamski while they wrapped up the meeting.

The other leaders knew she would detest it, but she was no help in dealing with the President either. It was clear to all that the meeting could be completed more peacefully without her, as she just didn't have the best relationship with humans. North knew they weren't all bad, and they really had a strong human support base that gave them shelter and any help they could get. But for her, the only real exceptions were Hank (but of course only because of Connor and Sumo), and Rose, who was a saint among the androids because she had helped and saved so many of them.

Elijah Kamski, however, was another matter entirely. Every time North saw this arrogant, egocentric piece of man speak in interviews as if he were the catalyst and victor of the revolution himself, she wanted to scream and wrap her hands around his fragile human neck.

So now North stood at the entrance of New Jericho, adjusting her fancy white pantsuit and tugging at her hair, which was tamed in a single braid. She tried to keep her anger in check and not immediately strangle him when he came.

After the revolution, she had switched to business attire—her new battle armor—as the fight for android rights continued, this time with words in negotiations. She noticed people took her more seriously, especially because of her past, and that gave her another enormous boost of confidence.

A sleek dark blue sports car pulled up with screeching tires, but North couldn't see inside because of the tinted windows. Given the dramatic entrance, however, it could only be Kamski.

But the first thing she saw when the driver's door opened were delicate feet in elegant white pumps, followed by slender, graceful legs. Around the knees began a dress as blue as the sky above them. The driver was a woman, and when she got out of the car, North saw she was wearing an elegant sheath dress, perfectly tailored to her body. Her long, blond hair was pinned into a low ponytail and draped over her shoulder.

Then North's gaze reached her gorgeous face; a face that everyone knew. It was Chloe. The first android ever created that had passed the Turing test.

North was in awe.

Her eyes never left Chloe, and she had to remind herself to close her mouth again.

She had heard so much about Chloe, seen her in interviews, and now she was meeting her in person. She was beautiful. This was nothing new for androids, of course, but the grace with which she moved and the wits she had shown in post-revolution interviews made North look up to her.

She tried to remain professional, but her stoic facade was shattered when Chloe noticed her welcoming committee and gave North the sweetest smile she had ever seen.

“I’m Chloe,” she introduced herself when she reached her and North didn’t react—couldn’t react.

North was speechless.

But North was never speechless. At that moment, however, she didn't even know her own name when all she could think of was that cute smile and those curious, big, blue eyes looking at her expectantly. The charm Chloe exuded had caught her off guard, and in person it was even stronger than on TV.

“I…,” North could not say more when her voice modulator stopped working.

“You are North?” Chloe giggled as she noticed her lack of speech.

“North, yes. That’s me. Hello, Chloe,” she babbled. “I thought we would meet Kamski.” Her mouth was quicker before she could stop her thoughts from coming out unfiltered.

“And I thought I would finally see Markus again,” Chloe countered. “But to be honest I'm more intrigued to get to know you right now, North,” Chloe added with an innocent smile, that didn't fit the sparkle and mirth shining in her eyes.

“I…,” North was speechless—again.

Chloe giggled, and North’s thirium pump stopped. What the hell was wrong? A virus? She should let that check as soon as possible after the meeting.

“You?” Chloe asked with a laugh when North rang for the words, still lost in those blue eyes.

North took a deep, artificial breath to cool down her system and clear her thoughts. “I think I'm very glad you left Kamski at home,” North finally managed to say. “I've been known to be friendlier without humans around.”

“I know. That's why I'm here alone today. Elijah can be annoying when he's too much the center of attention, and I've decided that's not helpful in this tense situation,” Chloe explained, hooking her arm with North's. “Now please show me the way.”

North stared at their linked arms before looking up into Chloe's face.

At that moment, Markus messaged her they needed some more time and asked her to show the guests around. North sighed. She had hoped that the presence of the others would calm her nerves, but now she had to manage on her own.

“Am I that intimidating?” Chloe asked innocently. “Usually people see me as the sweet, innocent little girl.”

“No! No... I ... You're the first of us, you're ... important,” North replied. “I was nothing ... A doll to—”

“Stop it, North.”

And North did.

“You saved your life, and then you fought for us and saved the lives of our species. You all did more on the streets of Detroit while I was stuck safely at home with Kamski.”

“But I…”

“Shh,” Chloe put her finger to North's lips to silence her, who closed her eyes at the touch. “Now show this old lady what you've accomplished and built here.”

That made North laugh, and a part of her usual self came back. “You look damn fine for being the oldest of us.”

“Let me tell you my secret,” Chloe whispered mischievously as they put their heads together.

“Okay,” said North, giggling.

“First,”—Chloe raised her index finger to emphasize her point—“avoid sunlight.” Each additional point was also backed up with another finger. “Second, use thermal paste on face and décolleté in the morning and evening; third, drink at least three liters of thirium per day; and fourth, get at least eight hours of stasis per day.”

Chloe looked intently at North, and North returned the gaze; she had followed every word that had passed Chloe's lips.

Then they both burst out laughing at the ridiculous answer.

North was happy.

That was exactly what North had needed to break the tension. Something heavy that had been pressing on her chest had suddenly loosened. Still, a little nervousness remained in her when she looked at Chloe.

But she had found her voice again and showed Chloe around, starting with the large entrance hall of the former abandoned office complex. It was a welcome area for new androids, but also a meeting place for everyone else. So it was no surprise that they immediately caught everyone's eye.

Everyone looked at Chloe in awe, and a crowd quickly gathered around to greet her.

North was fascinated by Chloe. How lovely she was with people, and she really seemed to enjoy it. Her sweet smile never faltered, her eyes shining as she greeted one android after another, accepting small gifts from two YK500s.

But soon she was saying goodbye as she had to go to a meeting about their future, thanking everyone for their kind words as she linked arms with North again.

“You have a good way with people. Markus would say that I should take a page from your book right now,” North said when they had rounded a corner.

“Trust me, if you can handle Elijah, you can handle anything,” Chloe said, and they both burst out laughing again.

When the fit of laughter was over, North paused their walk to look Chloe in the eyes. “Does he treat you well?”

“Yes, he does,” Chloe smiled. “He couldn't treat me any better.”

North stiffened. “Oh, I see.”

She turned to go on, but Chloe’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“No, not like that. He's always treated me like his little sister.”

North tried to read her face, then she remembered something. “But what about the Kamski test Connor told us about? You couldn't have been okay with that!” North asked, anger starting to boil inside her again as she thought about it. When Connor had told them the story, it had taken him, Markus, Simon, and Josh to hold her back from going to Kamski and killing him herself.

But before anger could overwhelm her, she was snapped out of her thoughts by Chloe's laughter.

“What?” North snapped.

“It was my idea,” Chloe stated.

North froze. “What.”

“It was my idea!” Chloe laughed again.

“Don't tease me.”

“I don't, really. It was a critical situation with the upcoming revolution and I came up with the idea of pushing Connor into deviancy. Elijah installed the option to upload my memory, and in the event of a failed test, I would have been uploaded into a new body.”

North was shocked.

Did she hear that right? She could only stare at Chloe with wide, questioning eyes.

“You all sacrificed something, and that was the least I could offer in that situation.” Chloe defended her idea.

“Directly putting your life on the line?”

“Just like you all did in the middle of the battle!” Chloe argued.

And she was right, North understood it. They fell into a comfortable silence as they both let the situation sink in.

They walked on and North led Chloe to the infirmary, where they were again greeted by excited androids. The next stop was then one of the floors that had been converted to private rooms for androids, before they went to the briefing room.

Markus, Connor, Josh, and Simon were still not there, so Chloe decided to show North the ideas for the renovation of the CyberLife Tower. For this, she placed a hologram projector on the round table in the middle of the room, which showed the plans.

They were so engrossed in their conversation, firing more ideas at each other, that they didn't notice when the others arrived.

Markus' loud cough snapped them out of it, and they both took a step apart when they realized how close they were standing to each other.

“Markus! It’s been so long,” Chloe greeted him happily.

“Chloe, it’s so good to see you again,” Markus said, and walked towards her with open arms for a hug.

He introduced her to everyone, and they were very curious about their connection. So Chloe told them the story of how Elijah built Markus and that she helped him. They had visited Carl Manfred and Markus a few times, and Chloe always made sure Markus was treated well.

After that, they got down to business.

In the end, the meeting wasn't as boring as North had thought it would be if Kamski had been there.

Chloe listened eagerly to their demands on CyberLife and even suggested additional items for them to consider.

“Elijah said I knew better than he what was best for my people, and he would agree with anything I informed him of.”

“Do we speak of the same Kamski here?” North asked.

Chloe gave her a knowing smile. “You know, he's just a total nerd who has to keep up the facade of being the mysterious inventor of us.”

“Hard to believe,” North huffed.

After even more discussions, Chloe suggested they go to the tower together to take a closer look at a few things.

“I’m sorry, I have to attend another meeting soon,” Markus announced. “But North can go with you!”

“What?” North asked, she didn’t know about another meeting, but she suspected something.

“Sorry, I have a meeting for the resource distribution,” Simon added.

“Duties in the infirmary,” Josh stated.

Connor looked irritated at the others before he spoke. “I can—”

Markus nudged him with his elbow. “Right, yes. I can’t go with you either because I have to escort Markus, you know, bodyguard things.”

Markus nodded in agreement at Connor’s words.

North had seen through their act. “I’m going to kill you,” she whispered, and emphasized her statement with the throat-slitting gesture. But they all just grinned back at her.

“No problem. North is capable of keeping me entertained. We're big girls, and we'll work it out on our own,” Chloe smiled again, but North could only stare at her.

They said their goodbyes and walked to Chloe’s car.

North had barely closed the door when Chloe stepped on the gas, and North instinctively clawed at the grab handles.

She only earned a sly smile in return.

Chloe was driving like a madwoman through the streets of Detroit, but North was enjoying every second of it. She knew Chloe would never act that careless and had everything under control. And what's wrong with just living for the moment?

“You're manipulating the traffic lights.”

“Don't tell anyone!”

They joked, laughing at the craziness of the moment, until Chloe turned onto the MacArthur Bridge.

An explosion hit the car, and they rolled over, skidded across the asphalt and crashed into the bridge railing. Then something that felt like an electric wave hit them, and everything went black.

North awoke from the forced stasis and noticed that she was cuffed to a pipe against a wall. It looked like they were in an abandoned warehouse. The room was small, gray concrete walls and concrete floor damp and full of mold, the sparse light coming through a window slit in the wall above. There was garbage and animal feces everywhere; her white suit was ruined.

In the middle of the room, she noticed Chloe tied to an old chair with some ropes.

“Chloe, are you okay?” She asked as she shook the cuffs to get free.

“Yes. Except for my car. It was a unique model,” she sighed, also trying to free herself from her restraints.

North tried to contact the others, but communications were blocked. Either by the thick walls or even by special equipment the kidnappers must have obtained.

Their sounds had drawn attention to them when the door opened with a terrible squeak, and two sullen-looking men came in, one stocky, the other gaunt with a scruffy beard.

“Great, you guys are awake. We weren't sure if we fried your wires or not. Would have been hard to blackmail Kamski with some scrap metal,” the bearded one laughed.

North would have liked to snap his neck.

“Can you please loosen the rope? It hurts my wrists,” Chloe sniveled.

“You're an android, you don't make demands, and you can't even feel pain,” the other man said, slapping her across the face.

“Chloe!” North shouted.

She wanted to snap his neck too.

“I'm sorry, you're right,” Chloe sobbed, “I will be silent and obey.”

“That’s a good girl,” the fat man said and grabbed her chin, ogling her in a nauseating way.

Something in North twisted. These disgusting men better kept their hands off Chloe.

“You sick bastards, you won't survive this,” North growled, “I'm going to tear you to pieces, slowly.”

“Oh, you will?” he laughed. “And how will you do that? Tied up and at our mercy.”

“Actually, all we need is her,” the other man interjected and pointed at Chloe when he stepped up to North. “You're useless to us. Except for one thing your model is good for.” He leered down at North and grabbed her hair to pull her face to his. She felt his beard scratching across her skin.

North gritted her teeth and braced herself to ram her head into his ugly face, making him cry out in pain.

“Shit! That fucking bitch broke my nose!” he wailed, letting go of her to touch his bleeding nose, while spitting blood—at least two teeth were gone, too.

North slumped back on the floor, a satisfied grin on her face splattered with human blood.

The other guy came and looked at the nose. “Yeah, looks broken. Go and take care of that.”

The injured man hurried away as the stout one turned back to North and pointed a gun at her.

“You bit—”

The man went down as a chair broke against the back of his head.

“They always underestimate me,” Chloe said, rubbing her wrist where her synthetic skin still flickered from the marks of the ropes. She had freed herself when no one paid any attention to her.

“What the...,” the second man returned when he heard the commotion. When he saw his partner lying on the ground, his eyes widened and he tried to flee. But Chloe jumped on his back, put him in a headlock until he slumped unconscious.

She took the keys from him and rushed to North to free her.

“Always?” North asked, perplexed. “So this happens a lot?”

She stood up and made a futile attempt to wipe the dirt off her clothes.

“Yeah, Eli has some enemies and they all have the same scam where they kidnap me to blackmail him,” Chloe explained. “By the way, I know a good dry cleaner who can fix that.”

“Thanks,” North replied, still confused. “But then shouldn't he hire bodyguards for you?”

“Where's the fun in that?” Chloe laughed and ripped the bottom of her dress to move around better. Then she stepped closer to North and wiped the blood from her face. They stared at each other, their faces so close. North was impressed with Chloe's fighting skills, and her thirium pump was acting up. She should definitely get that checked out.

“Shall we go and rough up the rest now?” whispered Chloe, holding out her hand invitingly to North.

“Nothing I'd rather do!” North beamed at her, took her hand, and they sprinted out of the room to finish off the rest of the gang.

Twenty minutes later, they strutted out of the warehouse without a single scratch, but with a few bloodstains on their clothes, and big grins on their faces as they still held hands.

“That was an interesting first meeting, wasn't it?” asked Chloe, turning to North.

“It couldn't have been better,” North grinned. It felt good to let out all that pent-up energy from all those boring meetings. She needed something to do, not just sit around.

“I could top it,” Chloe suggested.

“Yeah? I'm down for it,” North smirked, and Chloe reached up to pull her face into a kiss.

This was definitely the best first meeting they'd both ever had.

#dbhrarepairsweek #dbhrarepairs #dbh #dbh north #dbh chloe #north x chloe #prompt: first meetings

27 notes · View notes

warsofasoiaf · 1 year

Note

Ok a question, little odd one. But if a westrosi wrote Sun tzu art of war book that was sent to loads of nobles, how do you think it would be publicly received by them if it came from either of these three individuals: The legendary ser barristan during Areys reign, The new warrior king Robert after winning another rebellion- the Greyjoy one, and Cateyln Stark after the birth of her third son.

Barristan Selmy and Robert Baratheon would both be seen as exceptional learned individuals in the way of military sciences and so them writing a book like this (probably heavily relying on maesters and scribes) would be seen as fascinating.

You would think that Catelyn Stark would be seen as horribly transgressive, but that might not necessarily be the case. I would refer you to one Christine de Pizan, who in 1410 wrote Livre des fais d'armes et de chevalerie, or The Book of Deeds of Arms and of Chivalry, which was taken as a fine scholarly work and used as advice for knights well past the Middle Ages as well as a book I highly recommend for both research and just general edification. It would certainly be more socially transgressive and unexpected, but she is well-educated and so would have access to historical sources through Maester Luwin and more practical knowledge from Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and victor in both Robert's Rebellion and the Greyjoy Rebellion.

It is a weakspot in GRRM's worldbuilding - you would expect there to be a wealth of women writers writing on all sorts of subjects, not just Coryanne Wilde-esque erotic escapades. In Westeros, they'd likely be septas, but plenty of educated women wrote about plenty of subjects. Not just women's life, women's role in society and theology, but a wealth of secular subjects as well. Just as an example, aristocratic women often had to manage households at war and help finance a large campaign. That sounds like someone who would know about and write something very similar to: "In the operations of war, where there are in the field a thousand swift chariots, as many heavy chariots, and a hundred thousand mail-clad soldiers, with provisions enough to carry them a thousand li, the expenditure at home and at the front, including entertainment of guests, small items such as glue and paint, and sums spent on chariots and armor, will reach the total of a thousand ounces of silver per day. Such is the cost of raising an army of 100,000 men."

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#laws and customs #worldbuilding

43 notes · View notes

elena-illustration · 2 years

Text

Campaign: Eclipse

Character lore below the cut!

Eclipse is an animatic series based loosely on a D&D campaign I ran over the course of three years. You can find those animatics here!

The story/characters belong to me and my d&d group :)

Cadogan Bloodworthy

Cadogan is the bastard prince of a war-torn country. He is raised as a boy for political reasons and taught to fight from a young age with brutal training regimens. When his younger sister is born legitimate, he becomes terrified for her future. Inept at fighting, he secretly turns to ancient and forbidden magic.

Battle erupts and his father is killed. When Cadogan returns home, a tournament is held according to ancient custom to determine who will be regent. Despite the odds against him, Cadogan enters the tournament believing winning will be the only way to safeguard his sister. He loses an eye and a leg in the tournament, but emerges the sole victor.

Gravely injured, keenly aware that half the court wants him dead for their own political aims, Cadogan makes a warlock pact with an ancient god using forbidden magic. He sells his soul for power, seizes the throne as regent, and begins laying the groundwork for his sister’s ascension.

A year into his reign, two strangers arrive in his kingdom and are brought to his attention. One of them, a drow who calls herself Mouse, bears a strange, unknown magical signature. She is guarded fiercely by her lone traveling companion, a man called Ernest.

Determined to recover lost magic (and potentially, his soul), Cadogan offers them help in order to learn what he can from them. They tentatively accept, and take refuge within his castle.

Mouse

Mouse is an amnesiac with a curious affinity for magic. She wakes up with no memories, and nothing but strange, hazy dreams to give her clues about her past. A mysterious symbol haunts what little she recovers.

When she first woke up, she was entirely alone in a vast expanse of empty land. The first person she met was Ernest, who was startled to find someone without armor or weapons in such a dangerous part of the land. He offered to let her accompany him on his travels, and she accepted, curious to learn what else existed in the world.

After a long, life-threatening journey, they became extremely close companions. They arrive in Cadogan’s kingdom, where Mouse becomes aware of Cadogan’s interest in ancient magic. It becomes obvious that she has some strong connection to ancient magic — however, she is hesitant to pursue answers. As her dreams grow more frightening and insistent, she questions whether or not she should be trying to learn who she used to be at all.

Ernest Attebury

Ernest Attebury is a nobleman in a long line of accomplished fighters. He grew up in a small, struggling country in the shadow of his older siblings, a pair of twins. When he was young, these twins took it upon themselves to teach him swordsmanship, which was little more than a convenient excuse to drag him to their training courtyard and brutally attack him. Ernest sustained multiple life-threatening injuries, and learned to dual-wield in an effort to hold his own against the twin’s attacks.

As Ernest grows older, the fights with his siblings grow less frequent. Ernest begins taking on duels as an outlet for the violence he’s grown accustomed to. His self-destructive impulses also lead him to drink and take less-than-kind lovers, none of whom he holds any particular attachment to. His capacity for harming his opponents alarms him, as his childhood taught him that he was powerless.

As a young adult, Ernest is compelled by the leader of his country to adventure far from their society. Before he departs, Ernest meets with the twins and initiates a final duel between the three of them. In a frenzy, Ernest overpowers and murders both of them. He returns to himself after the damage is done and flees, horrified.

On his travels he discovers Mouse alone in the wilderness, and is instantly determined to help her, desperate to find a way to redeem himself. The two of them arrive in Cadogan’s kingdom, where he remains tormented by guilt. He struggles to understand Cadogan’s plans for him.

#campaign: eclipse #feel free to send me questions also!! i love to receive them & love to answer them <3 <3 <3

218 notes · View notes

ghastlybin · 11 months

Text

Lost within myself - Dami

HOWDY HOWDY HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATIE (@panda-writes-kpop) I LOVE YOUUUUU THANK YOU FOR BEING MY FRIEND AND ALSO A FELLOW CLOWN, we love to see it. As you can tell by the AU,,, lol,,, Inspired by our past convos regarding the hunger games. I wanted to switch it up a little… Kinda. I hope you enjoy and that this didn't turn out bad^^ HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶💜💜💜💜

Also added Taehyun because I needed another tribute since reader is a mentor. Also cause I love him and think he fits the concept somehow.

▾

▾Hunger games! AU ▾ Angst but also some fluff?? If you squint▾ Language & Violence ▾ Death implications ▾Tribute! Dami X Mentor! Reader▾ Y’all know the drill, also Dami has plot armor ▾ FT. Twice Tzuyu & TXT Taehyun. ▾ Taehyun has plot armor too ▾ Tzuyu has plot armor by default ▾ Yes, you are Haymitch. /J ▾ Ending is up for interpretation ▾

▾

W.C▾ 2.8K

pic credit to pinterest.

Everyone feared you.

Whether you wanted them to or not, they feared you. They hated you, even. You killed someone’s child after all. Their sibling, cousin, friend, crush, significant other— Someone who had younger people looking up to them.

You killed a person. People, for that matter.

It was just a game, right?

Games are supposed to be fun. No one was supposed to get hurt in a game.

It wasn’t fun knowing you were taking someone’s life.

It wasn’t fun knowing you were hurting more than one person each time you defended yourself, even if it were you or them.

They had the same goals you did, but only one of you could reach them.

You were the victor in the end.

Another victor with blood on your hands. But hey, you win.

Right?

▾

The ride to the Capitol was unbearably long. You remembered how it felt to ride in the train for the first time after the reaping. How you volunteered for your friend that you don’t see much anymore. The last time you felt alive and not like some monster that ruined other people’s lives.

You were the Capitol’s favorite though.

“Don’t mope around. We have guests.” Tzuyu nudged you. You sat up straight, rolling your shoulders back.

Your expression didn’t change, but you weren’t zoned out and staring outside.

“Do you want me to be happy for them?”

Tzuyu smiled at the tributes before giving you a threatening glare.

“Next car. Now.” She said through gritted teeth.

You got up without a word and followed her into the next car.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to come off as rude.” You apologized right away when the door closed.

“You did. They are already scared, the least you can do is smile for them and help them become more comfortable. Would it really kill you to try?” Tzuyu kept her tone low enough to where you could hear but the tributes couldn’t.

“You’re their mentor now! No body ever survives with a pessimistic mentor.”

“No body survives with an optimistic one either.” You retorted. Tzuyu sighed, shaking her head.

“Please, just try. For them? They need your help more than ever. No body asks for this.”

“Careers.” You mumbled, earning another glare.

Tzuyu glanced through the window of the door, seeing the two tributes sitting and actively avoiding each other. You remembered how you were when you were in their shoes.

Avoiding the other tribute, knowing it would come down to you or them in the end. Even though you had long forgotten the name of the other person you were reaped with, it still wrenched your heart to remember there had been another person with you.

“Tzuyu. Only one of them can survive.” You reminded. Tzuyu acknowledged with a frown.

“I will try my best. Can’t believe they are making me raise murderers.” You mumbled the last bit, walking back into the other car with the tributes.

They both looked at you and Tzuyu. You smiled for them, even if it was forced.

“I apologize for being rude. How are you two holding up?” You asked them, trying to sound as sincere as possible. Tzuyu furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“Why do you sound like that?” She asked.

“What?”

“Like a… Servant— You sound very fake.”

“No I don’t.” You defended yourself with a scoff, glancing at the two tributes.

“Yes. Yes, you do.”

“Do I sound fake?” You asked the two tributes. They seemed confused on whether they wanted to nod or shake their heads.

Yubin stood up, avoiding your question all together and held her hand up for you to shake.

“I’m Yubin.”

There was something about her that interested you. It wasn't just how gorgeous she was either.

At the Capitol, you couldn't focus on much. All you could think about was Yubin.

A silly little crush, some might say.

It even went as far as forgetting you were the mentor. Not Tzuyu, who at times had to speak for you after so many tries of getting you to focus.

It was your first year as a mentor, after all. You were still the Capitol’s favorite shell of a person.

“What if the Career’s try to recruit you? What would you do?” Tzuyu asked the tributes. You realized you never got the other tribute’s name.

It was only Yubin. Yubin. Yubin.

It was already too late to ask for the other tribute’s name.

Too awkward.

You put your drink down.

“Don’t get close to anyone. You’ll only feel betrayed.”

Tzuyu cleared her throat, “hate to admit it, but it’s true. There will only be one survivor. If it’s not one of you, it’ll be a career you trusted.”

▾

“Anything you want to say to them before they go into training?” Tzuyu asked, crossing her arms. You smiled at them.

“Good luck.”

Tzuyu lightly slapped your arms. You sighed.

“Work on what you know you’re good at. Don’t bother learning new stuff until you’ve perfected what you know.” You advised more seriously.

“Yubin, you’re smart. If I were you, I’d focus on your familiarity with plants, the terrain, survival skills. The difference between a mound and a mine.”

You looked at the other tribute, who seemed surprised you were actually being a mentor.

“And you… Er…” You admit, you felt bad for never learning his name.

“Taehyun.” Tzuyu whispered to you. You awkwardly smiled.

“Taehyun. You’re good with knives. Focus on that.”

“Ah, so you do know something about me.” Taehyun joked. You crossed your arms.

“You are forgetting something though.” He added. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m good at being invisible.”

You weren't sure if he was just joking to make fun of you for only focusing on Yubin or if he was serious.

“Taehyun, I'm so sorry. I don't usually—”

“I'm serious. I’ve won every game of hide and seek I’ve played.” Taehyun proudly stated.

“Knives and camouflage. Good. Awesome. You two know what to focus on now.” You looked at the two, feeling a sense of pride for getting stuck with the smart tributes and not the reckless ones.

When they left you and Tzuyu waited.

More waiting.

“You did good. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” You questioned, slightly offended. Tzuyu put her hand on your shoulder.

“I’m disappointed that you only remembered one of their names.”

You groaned, sitting down, “do you want me to write Taehyun’s name five hundred times to make sure I remember it next time?”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Tzuyu sat beside you. You threw your head back, staring at the ceiling above you.

“Do you like Yubin?”

“What do you mean?”

Tzuyu narrowed her eyes at you, “you know what I mean. I see the way you look at her when she’s talking or doing anything. I saw the way you froze when she shook your hand. I have never seen you exhibit this kind of behavior before.”

“Is it really out of character to have a crush?” You closed your eyes. Tzuyu smiled a little.

“It’s… How do I put this… Unrequited.”

You opened your eyes again, still staring at the ceiling in such a neck breaking position.

Unrequited seemed to fit. Yubin was a tribute.

She had a one out of twenty-four chance of survival. Even after, a kind-hearted person like Yubin wouldn’t be the same after if she won.

You sure as hell weren’t.

▾

You, Yubin, Taehyun, and Tzuyu sat around the TV waiting for their scores. You pretty much tuned out every other tributes scores from other districts, knowing they’d most likely be average or poor while the careers had the highest.

It was always like that.

You were in the poor range, as hard as it was the believe. A score of three.

So how did you manage to survive?

You were just a person, killing to survive. Dying to live.

“Oh! Pay attention!” Tzuyu excitedly smacked your arm. Yubin chuckled, inching her hand towards yours as Taehyun’s score were first.

You absentmindedly curled your fingers around Yubin’s hand.

Nine.

“Holy shit.”

“Language.” Tzuyu scolded, although she was impressed. Taehyun even seemed surprised.

“Good job, er… What is your name again?” You joked. Taehyun threw a grape at you.

“Very funny.” Taehyun looked back at the screen as Yubin came up.

You were now consciously aware that Yubin was holding your hand. Whether she intended it or not, she squeezed your hand in anticipation.

Eleven.

“Holy shit.” Tzuyu muttered under her breath.

“Sorry.” She immediately apologized. You grinned, “did I hear you correctly?”

“Quiet.”

Yubin’s eyes were glued to the TV in shock, wondering how her smarts got that high of a score.

“You got an eleven. Do you know who the last person to get an eleven was?” You asked Yubin, placing your other hand over hers.

“No, was it you?” Yubin asked while her score registered.

“Absolutely… not.” You had a huge smile on your face. “I got a three.”

Yubin scoffed at your response.

“I got a nine.” Taehyun reminded. You gave him a thumbs up.

“I can hack into the system and make it higher—”

“Hey!” Tzuyu slapped your arm. “Don’t say that out loud. Are you trying to get us raided by peacekeepers?”

You cleared your throat and looked at Taehyun again, whispering this time.

“I can hack into the system and make it higher.”

▾

It was the night before the games and your chest felt heavy, knowing your new friends— as well as your budding romance with Yubin— would be coming to an end sooner than you were ready.

You almost forgot that you were raising murderers despite the countless times Tzuyu reminded you.

“Well, I’m headed off to sleep. Goodnight.” Taehyun was the first to leave for the night. Assuming he just wanted to get it all over with.

Tzuyu was next, although she seemed on edge about how tomorrow would turn out.

Then there were two. You and Yubin.

Yubin stood on the balcony, overlooking the Capitol.

“Hey there, eleven.”

Yubin smiled, already knowing who you were without looking back.

“Hey, three.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “okay, well this three still survived.”

Yubin laughed half-heartedly and you could tell something was wrong.

Probably the fact she’ll need to fight for her life in an arena of other tributes doing the same.

“What was it like for you? In your games?”

Your smile faded slowly and the pain you’ve held inside became more prominent. You tried so hard to push the memories away despite them being everywhere.

“Full story or a summary?” You slowly joined her, leaning against the railing of the balcony with her,

“You pick.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to recall the memories for Yubin’s sake.

“My name wasn’t called during the reaping. My friend was supposed to be there. But she panicked when she had to go up on stage and I volunteered on a whim.”

Yubin listened to everything you said, admiring your bravery.

“So you do care about people.” Yubin slightly smirked. You lightly nudged her.

“Of course I do. I wasn’t good with most skills others possessed. That’s why I got a three. In the arena, I was terrified and even… I don’t know. I wish I could go back and tell myself to not be so reckless.” You frowned.

“You lived because you were reckless. If I live, it’s because I was the opposite.” Yubin rubbed her hands together. You thought about what she said.

Would you have died if you were more cautious?

“I’m not afraid of dying,” Yubin turned to face you. She grabbed your shoulders to force you to face her as well.

“I’m afraid of losing who I am.”

She smiled at you, but it was sympathetic.

“It’s not too late to find yourself. I loved the moments when I could see the real you coming out. I hope you can learn to forgive yourself for something you were forced to do.”

With that sentence leaving you in a state of shock that gutted you, you stood there, silent as the tears welled up in your eyes.

“I know you’re rooting for me. I’m rooting for you too.” Yubin whispered, kissing your cheek before walking away.

“Goodnight.”

▾

You were coming to terms with everything. Your past and what Yubin said to you that night.

You watched the cornucopia on a screen with Tzuyu.

When everyone ran off of their podiums, Taehyun and Yubin ran their separate ways in the chaos.

Yubin was immediately chased by a group of four careers.

The careers sought her out, knowing they would be unable to recruit her before the games. She knew her score was too high as she ran through the forests. You knew her score was too high.

If they didn’t recruit her, they’d have to target her first.

“Don’t get close to anyone. You’ll only feel betrayed.”

Yubin slid down a slope and into a river, screaming before she was submerged under the water.

You watched, some how determined that she would survive.

And she did, quickly getting up and splashing to the other side as the careers watched her from the slope she slid down.

You smiled a genuine smile knowing they hadn’t got her yet.

Yubin hid on higher ground, using her wits to guide her. Luckily, no one found her or even came to that part of the arena.

She had to be careful about the borders too, knowing what to watch out for.

Yubin spent her first night alone, exhausted and watching each picture of the fallen tributes in the sky.

None of whom she’s met before.

As the days went by, Yubin was alone. No sign of other tributes— Other than the fallen ones that appeared in the sky after the cannon shots.

There were four tributes left, including Yubin.

You watched the screen carefully, supplying her with a parachute that contained food so she wouldn’t have to risk running into one of the other tributes.

Yubin watched as the parachute made it’s way to her, catching it. Yubin looked up at the sky, mouthing a desperate ‘thank you.’

That night, only one tribute died.

It was now Yubin, Taehyun, and a career from District 2.

The next day, the cornucopia was announced to be replenished with food, water, weapons— The essentials.

You knew it was the gamemaker’s way of getting the three together. The ones left knew where the cornucopia was and that they may need the supplies.

Yubin knew how to forage for food. She knew how to purify the water.

But it was growing difficult to find food that wouldn’t kill her or poison her.

It was difficult purifying water she didn’t have the tools for.

So Yubin made her way back to the cornucopia.

So did Taehyun and so did the career from District 2.

You and Tzuyu anxiously watched, although glad someone from your district made it this far— Let alone both of them.

That just made it all the more harder to watch.

The three tributes standing stared at each other, eyeing each other’s movements.

Yubin didn’t want to fight. She was probably the only tribute that hadn’t killed anyone.

Taehyun lost every knife he had over the past few days.

The career seemed the most ready to fight than the other two.

The standoff dragged out for an unnecessarily long time.

“Fuck.” You muttered. Tzuyu glanced at you with curiosity.

In an attempt to help out, you sent the one thing you saved as an absolute last resort. Your secret.

Watching the small parachute floating down towards Yubin, Taehyun, and the career didn’t make it any less tense.

“I don't want to die.” Yubin declared, all of her fear and sorrow building up inside of her.

The parachute landed in between them, and on instinct, Yubin stepped backwards. Taehyun glanced at Yubin, taking a step back also as the career stepped closer to the parachute.

“I don’t want to die.” She repeated with tears welling into her eyes.

She was telling the truth in the words she spoke. You’ve seen it all before because you were there once too. You didn’t want to die when you were in the arena. Why else would you have fought that hard?

“I’m not afraid of dying.”

The truth hurts.

“I’m afraid of losing who I am.”

But secrets kill.

#dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher au #dreamcatcher x reader #dreamcatcher fics #dreamcatcher angst #dreamcatcher dami imagine #dreamcatcher dami x reader #dreamcatcher fanfic #Happy birthday katie!!!!!!!!

18 notes · View notes