#being too cunning but she just kept on going despite the hardship | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

antiloreolympus · 3 years

Text

8 Anti LO Asks

1. as a mythology buff, i honestly think it was really weird of rachel smythe to take Hecate, a goddess who helped Demeter search for Persephone after she vanished and heard her screams and shared in Persephone and Demeter's joy after reuniting... and then just make her into Hades's like... total bro who plays aggressive matchmaker to h/p to the point of trying to break up Hades's current relationship. but honsestly i refuse to believe rachel smythe did literally any research before making this comic judging by how she depicts the mythology she's taking inspiration from so honestly im not suprised

2. I don’t know if anyone on here has discussed this, but LO very much plays into the idea of “good victim vs bad victim”.

A “good victim” has suffered many things, but despite it they still remain cheerful and happy and pleasant, they do not put others out or lash out at them even if they are triggered, they do not become petty or angry or hold onto negative emotions. They, in essence, “get over it”. Thus, the narrative rewards them: they get many friends, a love internet they’re happy with, and a happy ending. This is what Persephone is. She’s the “good victim”. Despite her many hardships, we know she will not suffer in the end. She will get everything she wants and more.

Then there is Minthe, the “bad victim”. They too have gone through many hardships, but they’ve become cold, angry at the world, they lash out and have trouble opening up and connecting to others, they even hurt others, themselves victims to the toxic pain they can’t get rid it. They do not and have not “gotten over it”. Thus, the narrative punishes them, even when they try to better themselves. It’s never good enough. These characters often are lonely, the cast are large do not like them if not outright hate them, and they more often than not end up dead. This is what Minthe is. She is not a pleasant person, she’s a victim of a manipulative older man and a cruel, unjust society and system, and we know how her story ends. It’s in pain, her maiming/possible death framed as a joke and not even a genuine hint of sympathy towards her fate. She was a “bad victim”, she “deserved” what she got.

Now, you only often see this in fandom, since the actual works that deal with victims of trauma and how they react will often try to give more nuance to every shade of victim they may have on cast, but it’s very disturbing to me that Rachel seems to eagerly play into this idea, like she gets joy out of punishing a victim she created and watching them suffer even more at her hands. It’d be one thing if she kept Minthe a shallow, one dimensional character who was just evil for the sake of it, fine, but her showing us her actual complex nature and the very real struggles, trauma, and manipulation she went through, especially at the hands of our supposed “heroes” of the story, just to have her demise framed as a win for Persephone and a joke for the audience to laugh at? That’s highly disturbing to me. It’s one thing for fans to act that way, but the writer themselves? It’s very dark, to say the least.

3. "I'm invested in working with fairy tales and folklore for my next project" oh no no no oh god please no. Fairy tales have been through enough hot takes and modern "betterments", they really don't need Rachel "Apollo is bad, actually" Smythe to add to it

4. Quick question

Greek Mythology is mostly incest.

So what if someone who is actually good at writing and storytelling and consistent artwork

Kept it in

For example Zeus and Hera arguing like the married couple they are

And Hera uses older sibling card

With Zeus dumbfounded face

I don't know why but I want it but would it be weird since it's incest

Most fanfics always keep it out. Just keep it in if you want it to be closer than the actual methods you know

Hera is youngest daughter of Cronus and Rhea and older than her brother Zeus, who was also her husband.

I want to do it but like I have no clue how to start a webtoon so you know💀

5. Oh god, Hades not needing therapy because Persephone's "love" is enough? To quote my lord and savior Kennie JD: "not the p*$$¥ being therapy!"

6. uuuuuh sexual trauma warning.?

So I was writing a comment on the "Re: bpd" ask and i had a realization about persephone

She reminds me of how I was about the idea of sex

I'm demisexual and have sexual trauma and the idea of sex excited me but I wasn't able to like, do it. Me and my partner would mess around but because Mctrauma i couldn't do it cuz I hadn't exactly worked through my trauma and i wanted to get through that because i was finally experiencing sexual attraction.

Kinda reminds me of Persephone. The problem is at that point it had been 6-7 years since my trauma occurred and persephone's happened like last month.

Considering how everyone talks about persephone being a self insert i think Rachel has some things to work through

Also made the realization literally as im typing that Rachel's attitude towards asexuality could be because she's demi and doesn't fully understand what that is or means

becuase if you're ignorant enough you can 100% end up describing demisexuality as "being asexual and then like, slowly turning gay."

this ask weirdly personal so fuck it this is gonna be anonymous feel free to delete if it makes u uncomfy

7. That’s also a part about Hubris Rachel clearly doesn’t get: it was always committed by rich, often people in high authority, NEVER lowly farmers or the poorest of ancient society. They always knew better. Niobe was a queen! Minos was a king! Arachne was the rich, spoiled daughter of a really successful merchant. Sisyphus was a cunning king. The trojan war was kicked off by royal drama. The list goes on and on. You have to notice these things and genuinely study the myths or you become like Rachel, who seems convinced the poorest people would be stupid enough to not only defy their bosses, but the gods themselves? They would be the last people to do such a thing! They don’t have the ingrained sense of entitlement and arrogance like the rich and powerful to even dare act like that towards the gods, as is the case with hubris. Because of this, Rachel ends up creating a narrative that the rich and powerful (literal GODS) are the real victims to those cruel, uppity poor people, going as far as to say in comic they deserve to be slaves for hades’ benefit and they’re wrong for ever hating Persephone for, you know, murdering them because she had a bad day! They should know their place! It’s absolutely insane that she doesn’t actually seem to realize what she’s writing. Unless she does, which is an even bigger issue, and shows a really dark look into how she views the world and society and how it should be run. It’s all a bad look.

8. Have you seen the "The demon, is here in the room right now?" meme

Welp, that's literally Persephone and her "feeling"

I legit saw that video about a dude faking a mental illnes (and seeing a demon that made him do bad things) after he commited a crime and that was so cringy and I can't stop thinking about Persephone confessing her AOW like that

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lo art

48 notes · View notes

thedistantstorm · 5 years

Text

Breaking the Wheel

"... what did she mean by that?"

Hawthorne shifts her weight subtly, he only catches the end of the movement. "Don't think too much about it. It's in the past."

Cool blue eyes narrow and soften all at once. "You told her that I was trustworthy," He reminds her. “That you trust me.”

Around them, the fragile, rebuilding City carries on. Lamps, lanterns, contained fires are lit where there is little remaining electrical infrastructure. No one pays the Commander and the newly appointed Clan Steward any mind. Cayde and Ikora have long since gone on ahead of them.

"Was that a lie?" He asks, knowing full well it isn't.

She shakes her head, blinking out of their staring contest. He frowns. "You are," Hawthorne eventually says, as people pass them by. She steps forward, as if she's going to run right into him, but then to the side, so they stand shoulder to shoulder. She faces the base of the crumbling Tower, plumes of smoke still rising into the sky. He looks out at the rebuilding City - hardship and cooperation sowing the seeds of hope.

"Tell me," He says, and it's meant to be a command, but commands do not work on her. It's what he tells himself when his voice comes out softer, hoarse and concerned.

It has nothing to do with the growing well of suspicion in his loins he does not want to believe - does not want to find out, even if he knows, he does - to be the truth.

They have made it a point to be accessible. Part of his reasoning in keeping Hawthorne in the fold is that she has her finger on the pulse of humanity. She doesn't see it, but he's learned to see that her supposed arrogance and standoffish behavior is a well-worn shield, designed to protect against attachments and the inevitable emotional hurts that would follow. Another is that she is unassuming. Cunning. Intelligent. Her resources held tens of thousands of people. She'd organized a relief effort in a week, held ground and kept people safe with minimal casualties, and her reasoning was that it was the right thing to do. He still wonders how it is her criminal record was more like a novella, sometimes. He knows she was preparing for a war, of some sort, but he doesn't understand what war she anticipated or why.

The people in this district are making due. It's barely different than the Farm here, though they're building houses and restoring what salvageable framework remains. But, the sense of permanence helps. It keeps spirits up. They're home. They've won. They will prevail here, too; Things will get better.

The old Tower burns at his back, jet fuel from the old hangar and electrical sparks causing many disturbances, wildfires that are more dangerous to fight because of how compromised the framework is. The district directly below it had been completely wiped out. They will not rebuild it until they are certain what's left of the Hall of Guardians will not collapse down upon it. Just thinking of it makes a distinct sadness creep into his heart.

It was his home.

He shakes his head. He cannot think of it now. There will be time later. (There won't, but his people need him.)

Before him, the rebuild of the Anchor District is going smoothly. He focuses on that. On the greatness that can be accomplished when Humans and Guardians stand together and work as one.

Beside him, Hawthorne looks around with a sharp gaze. Not judging, like he'd initially thought when they met months ago. She's looking for something. She's seeing something he doesn't.

"Alright?"

She blinks. Her gaze doesn't dull. She hasn't found what she's looking for, or it requires more investigation.

"Fine," She says. "Let's see what's happening down here." If nothing else, it pleases him that she’s acclimated to considering the new Tower her place of residence.

Above them, red and white banners flap in the early evening wind.

Part of this is checking on rebuild progress with the dispatched planners. Another is making sure resources are being stretched appropriately and that if something else is needed: lumber, steel, medical supplies, food, that it's addressed. Moving people back to the City from the Farm is a slow process. One they will do right.

The planner smiles at Zavala when he asks if they have what they need. "New Monarchy is helping us," He says. "They're filling in the gaps. We want for nothing."

This has always been a poor area, and New Monarchy helps the poor. New Monarchy always supported industry as well, specifically plasteel. It's no secret that the Vanguard does requisition quite a bit from them. They've got jobs waiting for these people. Hideo was rather insistent that once the rebuild was sound he'd find ways to get people back to work, to do his part to rebuild the economy.

And yet, Hawthorne frowns when they leave, her face reverting to a careful mask when he makes it obvious he's looking at her.

"What is wrong?"

She clasps her hands behind her back, wringing them.

"He didn't seem to be lying," He informs her mildly, guessing at her apprehension. She’d expressed a concern to him before, regarding the Clans and the Factions. Specifically the latter infringing upon the former.

Hawthorne stops walking, the step she'd been about to take forward aborted mid-execution. "He wasn't," She tells him slowly. Her hands come around her front. She crosses them.

He's spent enough time to know what uncomfortable and pensive look like on her. "What is it?"

"I dont-" She sighs. "I'm worried," She finally admits.

Blue eyes blink at her, so very bright. She does not market herself as an emotional creature, though he knows she feels as deeply as he does. To express it so blatantly means she does not feel her feelings are unfounded. “Explain.”

As if she's at war with herself, her dark eyes flutter closed. She squeezes her hands where they rest above the opposite elbow, releases her defensive pose and exhales.

There is something in her gaze that could cut diamonds, their normal shade of earthy brown cool and dark. "You asked me to stay because you believed I'd make a difference."

He nods, mutely. He was there, he does remember his well drafted list of reasons, his defenses, all the things he hadn't needed because he'd started honestly and she'd rewarded that with some trust and commitment of her own.

"Part of why I agreed is because you can't save this City from itself."

"What?"

She reaches out: her nimble, cold, gun-calloused fingers wrapping around his wrist. "You,” She pauses, features concentrating, trying to put things the best way she can, with the least amount of offense. He knows she’s trying, that she holds a fear of failing her people - their people - very close to her chest. “You don't know know this City like I do." Something in her gaze softens just a smidgen. "Come with me."

They meet up with Ikora and Cayde near what will eventually be the restored plaza at the heart of the district. For now, the storefronts house people en mass, providing better shielding from the elements than tarps and tents.

Hope in the face of destruction, the heartiness of Humanity is something breathtakingly heartrending to behold. This was the scene of a last stand. Of humans and militia defending survivors. He’d been told the story. Flowers and candles alight the street, banners - Vanguard, New Monarchy, patchwork flags for Clans - fly overhead.

A ball rolls in front of them, and Cayde makes quick work to nudge it back to them. They holler and cheer, he aims finger-guns and makes a show of blowing them out with little sparks and smoke when they ooh and ah after him.

Ikora, tempered by Cayde, offers them a gentle acknowledgement of her own. She does not do as well with these sorts of things, but she is trying. She’d never admit it, but the truth to Hawthorne’s accusations - what it means to be a Guardian - all those nights ago in one of the decomposing barns of the Farm really bothered her.

They are welcomed into one of the larger, more intact storefronts. Hawthorne does not take point, like he’s expecting. Instead, he is the one who leads them, following an older woman to a back room with a wooden table.

It isn’t much. There are rolled up sleeping mats in what looks to be a door-less storage closet. The woman offers them something to drink, trying, despite it all to be a gracious host. They decline, and she nods. For the best. The people are still rationing water. The Cabal polluted much of the freshwater supply within the city with their refuse, jet fuel, and otherworldly oils.

They make idle small-talk, about the way the City’s rebuild is panning out, the good that comes when Light and Lightless work together. The woman tells them of the children whose parents and other elders take turns watching them so that work can be done, of how they’re working to re-implement some form of education system until things can return to normal.

“Thank you for your support,” She says eventually, nodding to each of them in turn. She has bright, silver-blue eyes that contrast her pewter-grey, fading hair that’s tucked back into a bun at the base of her head.

Zavala nods. “You have everything you need? We are happy to-”

“Yes,” She replies quickly, looking away. “Thank you.”

Across the room, Hawthorne leans back against the wall, crossing her arms again. Zavala looks at her. She gives him a sad smile.

“You can tell the truth,” Hawthorne encourages, gently.

The woman’s eyes find hers like magnets, pupils constricted. Conflict and panic written across her face.

“I-” She swallows. “It’s the truth. We do.” Her gaze finds Zavala’s and it makes him flinch, internally, makes him want to recoil. This woman is afraid of him. Why is this woman afraid of him? “You’ve been more than generous.”

Hawthorne closes her eyes while Ikora’s eyes narrow and Cayde stops his idle fidgeting for once. The woman looks at her, pleadingly. The Clan steward steps to the woman, sitting at the table and drops to a knee, crouching beside her. “I trust him.”

“But-” His ears feel hot, and there is something akin to panic that bubbles in his chest. He has never wanted to strike fear into the hearts of the people. He wants to protect them from anything, anyone, any form of danger or strife. He would never be their aggressor. Why does this woman believe he would bear her any ill will? He would lay down and die for her - for any of them. He would-

“He is not Hideo’s man.” Hawthorne says. She rises and places a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes are unfathomably open. He cannot look away. “He is the City’s and hers alone.”

Then, Zavala blinks at the woman, who looks at him in earnest. Broken. Hopeful. Terrified. He wants to ask how, why she feels the way she does, but more than that, he wants to get down on his knees and beg her to understand. Compelled, he takes one of her hands in both of hers and tries. “What is happening,” He asks. “Please, tell me.” His voice is hoarse. Ikora and Cayde look at each other, then the ground. Their stances are rigid, uncomfortable.

“Tithing began last week.” She sighs. “What we don’t have in money, they take in other ways.”

“Tithing? For what?”

“New Monarchy is supporting the rebuild.”

“The Vanguard is funding-”

“Not all of it.” The woman barks back, a whip-crack of anger in her voice. “I had thought it would subside, because of the War,” She looks up at him, her eyes three shades paler than his, but blazing with emotion. “Food, medical supplies, water. Manual labor. Not glimmer, but even more valuable now.”

“They should have enough,” Ikora says.

Hawthorne looks at the wall across from her, eyes half lidded and stormy. “They have factories to rebuild if they’re going to meet their contracts.” Her eyes meet Zavala’s.

He breathes sharply, eyes darting over the grain of the wood that makes the table top, grasping for something, anything he can do. “I will-”

“You didn’t know,” The woman realizes, speaking with sudden conviction. She places her other hand atop his, no longer blinded by fear. “Did you?”

“I-”

“He didn’t,” Cayde agrees immediately. “Zavala would never ever, not in a million years, ever let this go on if he knew.”

“They are trying to keep the poor poor. I do not want my grandchildren to beg for scraps like I did, like my children after me, because it is only by New Monarchy’s graciousness that we should be divvied any aid when they are the ones who take our wages and extras in the first place. They do not give us support. The Guardians, City Forces, Militia, the Clans give us support.”

The woman says, “I don’t know that they’ve ever done anything good for me or mine.” She frowns, her eyes focusing on something not present, something that exists only in her mind. Hawthorne turns and steps out of the room. “No. They’ve done one good thing for this City.” She turns her head, looks to his right, directly at Suraya. “They’ve exiled a child.”

Hawthorne’s eyes turn to steel, her fists clenched tightly at her side and she shakes her head almost imperceptibly.

“They could not.”

“They did,” She pushes.

“Impossible.”

“Not as much as you’d think,” The woman says, softer. Her withered hands squeeze his and withdraw. “That man would have the world believe you are to be our king. Certainly you know it. He tells us that you are pleased when they do well. That you are his friend - a friend of New Monarchy.” She growls, “Commander Zavala, a friend of New Monarchy is no friend of this City, not of her people, and not of me and mine. A friend of New Monarchy is that, and that alone. Even if their tenets say otherwise.”

Zavala learns. He listens and he learns and he takes to heart - even if he does try to listen objectively. This is the woman’s opinion. But she is not the only one with it, and there is no way for him to deny it holds some modicum of truth. He sees it when they return to the City streets, and the sun is setting. There is apprehension in the faces of the downtrodden, in the ones who live in the shadow of the factions, of New Monarchy. They believe him to be Hideo’s king. Belief is a powerful, terrifying thing.

“That woman believed New Monarchy had the ability to exile a child,” He tells her, pacing in front of one of the still-abandoned storefronts. “The Consensus is the only governing body in this city who could exile anyone. And by no means would they ever,” He spits angrily, “EVER, exile a child. Not for murder. Not for theft. Not for anything.”

“They didn’t,” Technically, Suraya thinks.

"Then what did she mean by that?" He feels a prickle of something unpleasant, a suspicion growing in his belly.

Hawthorne shifts her weight subtly, he only catches the end of the movement, "Don't think too much about it. It's in the past."

Cool blue eyes narrow and soften all at once. "You told her that I was trustworthy," He reminds her. "That you trust me. Was that a lie?"

"You are," Hawthorne eventually says, as people pass them by. She steps forward, back toward home, back toward the Tower.

"Tell me," He asks of her. “What did she mean? She was not a liar.”

“The child,” She sighs, shaking her head in a way that indicates she cannot believe she’s saying this, “They exiled themselves.”

“What?”

“It was that or New Monarchy would target their family. They made a choice. It was one they’d been planning to make, anyway.”

“Who.”

“It doesn’t-”

“Suraya.” His eyes burn into her with something akin to fury, compassion, heartbreak wrapped together and packed in an ultraviolet glow.

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and doesn’t answer.

He closes his eyes, and for a moment she wonders if he’s going to cry, faced with the truth. His City, his beloved, precious City failed her. “Why?”

“I’d been stealing from them, for people like these. He’d said things-” Horrible, ugly, revolting, untrue things, “-and I punched him-”

“You were a child.”

“Almost fifteen.” She takes each of his clenched fists in one of her own. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It most certainly does.”

“You’re a good man,” She says, and it breaks the undercurrent of rage in his voice, his surprise giving him pause. She offers him a tiny smile as she steps back. “You would have stopped him.”

He answers her without hesitation. “Of course!”

“I’m not upset that it happened. Not to me. Not anymore.” She looks up at the Tower, then back at the seedlings of the City reborn. “I don’t want it to happen to anyone else.”

“We can change things,” He whispers, with conviction. “I know it.”

She nods. His arm comes around her shoulders. She bars her own cross his lower back. The City expands. The Vanguard is listening. They have the Clans. It will be a fight, but things will not go back to what they had.

“We already have.”

#commander zavala #suraya hawthorne #destiny fanfiction #new monarchy #ikora rey #cayde-6 #executor hideo is not a good guy #city politics #my writing

10 notes · View notes

flydotnet · 5 years

Text

Nemesis In Cerberus's Jaws

VRAINS Rarepair Weeks 2018 - Day 9: Favorite Card/Win or Lose

Summary: Ghost Girl goes to Queen's palace-like headquarters for two reasons: stop SOL from interfering in the Ignis Warfare and to avenge a fallen comrade now caught inside the monarch's claws. She knows this may very well be a trap, but may as well try saving the situation and stop a sociopath while she's at it.

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS Ships: Hireshipping (Ema/Akira)

Wordcount: 3.6K words

Notes: Happy New Year, I wish you get nice things in life for 2019 while I beg for VRAINS to give us an Akira VS Queen duel. Or just Akira winning a duel with his "Eldritch abominations meet geometry" deck. Please.

This is the last fic of 2019, a year as such filled with way too many sickfics and a lot of fandoms suffering because of your truly's! Can't say I expcted to finish the year on a VRAINS fanfiction of all things, but I'm actually proud of this one. I took a weird approach at this prompt, because I'm a dumbass who doesn't know how words work, but I hope this stays in the theme enough. Anyway, Ema VS Queen would be very nice in canon with actual duel wriitng skills instead of this pathetic excuse of that lmao. I also hope Queen fans don't kill me for this lmao.

Y'all know tomorrow is gonna be Hanahaki AU, don't you? I am, in fact, very predictable.

Event hosted by @vrainsrarepairweeks

AO3 version available here.

Link VRAINS’s SOL Headquarters, approximately time-has-stopped-ticking past I-forgot-what-time-it-was-anyway in the after-morning-noon. There is nobody around, footsteps resonating inside the empty white buildings filled with data diamonds and other unknown fancy digital effects. While the Ignis Warfare is taking place outside, Ema, or rather Ghost Girl, has her own side-mission to accomplish. This is why she is here and not by Aoi, or rather, Blue Maiden’s side. She trusts this girl and her partners, the ever-so-victorious Playmaker and Soulburner along with their pro-humanity Ignes, to win against the hardships waiting for them. She cannot really help them win against Lighting anyway.

She may not be able to do that, but she can do other things to shift the balance around. She has to do something to reverse the tide in the right direction.

Ghost Girl finds herself anxiously walking around the premise, the echo of her footsteps being the only noise around her, white walls and ceiling almost blinding her by their sheer purity that just hides how shady SOL Technologies truly are. There is exactly one sane man in that building and she’s here to prevent his conversion to data by some lunatics with too much incompetence and free time on their hands. Converting him into data won’t be useful for any of them: is she throwing herself into the jaws of that company? Most certainly.

The question would rather be: why does she throw herself into said jaws? She knows they’re a trap waiting to vanquish her. On that the question changes: is it worth knowingly risking herself in an obvious trap? To that she would usually hesitate to answer, but there she was with a bold and confident “yes” to throw at it.

Ghost Girl eventually meets a regal corridor leading to what she can only assume to be a throne room. The fancy palace aspects are quickly wearing down on her: the person waiting at the end, the one who caught her main hirer and ex-teammate, has to have an ego bigger than hers. In a way, that’s better: she’s always preferred crushing pretentious people than winning against fellas with a low self-esteem.

Instead of knocking on the wooden door with golden decorations she eventually finds herself meeting, the huntress kicks it wide open, emergency programs ready to be used against the eventual menace in case it’d get too dangerous. She, however, doesn’t plan on backing down until she has won: if she leaves, it’s to get backup, technical or human.

Plus, Akira would have preferred her to have these with her.

The quite literal queen is sitting in her throne with a smug look Ghost Girl has an unforgettable need to remove from her face. Dressed like a business woman in a regal palace, she matches what little about his boss Akira would tell her: short blue-and-green hair, proud, cunning, fierce and merciless. If she wasn’t meant to smash Queen’s face onto the floor for being a terrible human being, she would have commented on her beauty. Instead, she gets mentally ready to duel her.

“If it isn’t Ghost Girl, Zaizen’s favourite bounty huntress…” Her voice resonates in the empty room as an eerie smile makes her onto her face.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you why I’m here,” she simply and drily replies. She doesn’t wait to ask her main question. “What did you do to Zaizen?”

“Perhaps I should tell you would you win over me in a Master Duel, Ms Bessho.”

Goddammit. She still prepares out her Duel Disk and her spirit. This a duel she cannot lose.

“Then Duel it is.”

This may just be the duel of her life.

Queen has a royal-themed deck, because of course she would have one. The issue is to judge what level she is at Duel Monsters: it’s safe to assume she isn’t the first newbie one ca come across in Link VRAINS. It relies on Spell and Trap cards to summon monsters, only to Link Summon what Ema assumes to be her aces. There doesn’t seem to be another summoning method to her deck, but that’s to be seen. Skills are out of the question: this is already something she can put on the side and not worry about. She is willing to trade not being able to use Secret Cure for taking off one factor to take in account.

Ema has to keep it at least a bit safe. Her Altergeists aren’t known for being the safest monsters to play on the field despite how easy her Hexstia and Dragvirion combo feels like to pull off. She needs to be careful and not waste a single opportunity. This may be a Duel with vital stakes at play: she cannot let herself get panicked or else it’ll end terribly for everyone involved, not just her. SOL needs to be slowed down if not stopped if they’re as unreasonable as that woman’s ends and ways to get there: there is always a point where one needs to stop throwing everyone under the bus.

They don’t speak to each other during the duel. Queen seems to do so out of spite and a want not to leak anything out. Ema is doing so as to keep her focus: if she can win this, then she will have a chance at getting her answers and freeing Akira from wherever he’s kept in their real world. If he’s trapped here, then that’s even more of an opportunity not to mess up.

She doesn’t let the questions she could wonder about prevent her from summoning the right monsters and playing the right cards at the right time against the right targets. The situation is too risky and too narrow between them to allow her to do so, to taunt or to show too much pride. She sets her own ego on the side for once: if she wins this Duel, then she will pride herself in it and tease Akira about it for about forever.

Ema gains a momentum by bypassing Queen’s ace Monster, a Link-4 luminous queen thing (doesn’t have the luxury to compliment that one either) and inflecting direct damage to her opponent. Queen herself is a mighty force to reckon with, of course, but she has watched Akira lose to her with all the frustration she could have felt from it. She has, technically, seen how her deck worked, but every duel is different for everyone, thus why she prefers to make sure she doesn’t forget about the cards she could have changed or the optional strategies she may have in store.

Altergeists have to win where Tindangles have lost.

The sudden eerie smile on Queen’s face doesn’t reassure her in the slightest. There is a cold sweat running down her back as she waits in anticipation what is to come. A Flip card gets turned on by her own gestures, as an attempt to destroy it with Hexstia when the monstrous queen on the field can’t be attacked, and there comes the worst. Ema cannot decide herself whether or not this is humiliating or sadistic towards Akira, but in all cases, she doesn’t want to face that monster now.

She doesn’t want to be facing Tindangle Hound here and now.

It’s like fighting against Akira when he isn’t here to control the beast. How much has this “queen” stole from him, to use one of his cards like that?!

“Is… Is this a sick joke of some sort…?” her voice is hesitant but asks anyway.

“I simply took the spolia opima that were to come back to me after my previous victory.”

“You have to know this monster is… This is twisted!”

Ema feels rage boiling in her entire body. This isn’t like her to get upset over a monster in a deck, but this can’t be all there is to it. The smile on Queen’s face, Akira’s unknown whereabouts after his defeat against her and the use of that stupid Latin term all make her rage beyond reason.

Okay, she has to admit, Akira may be more than an ex-teammate for dirty jobs online and her main employer. There is quite obviously something more to it, more to her determination to win than to punish some asshole who put in so much danger someone as young and mentally fragile as Go Onizuka for fucking money, who vivisected and put inside a chip a living being made out of data but with a digital soul, who now uses a card of one of her subordinates to play a duel against someone who came here to, theoretically, save said subordinate.

What it is, she doesn’t have many words to put on, but these feelings are here, they are intense, and she isn’t backing down to determine what they are exactly. She owes him salary, potential blackmail material and maybe other stuff. She came too far to lose, she has her own side-mission and it’s just become uncomfortably personal between that pseudo-monarch corrupted by money and her.

Ema switches perspectives for this duel. There isn’t time to screw around and try to predict what is going to happen next. She has to be careful about Tindangle Hound’s effect to lower her own Monsters’ ATK if they’re Link. A good thing Dragvirion isn’t affected, she thinks, because her methods are about to become stomp-down when her deck isn’t even made for that. She has to destroy that hellish dog before Queen can summon Tindangle Angel and rub salt into the wound on-top of enforcing these two’s lines of defense.

These feelings are very personal, and she won’t let them spill onto the floor for that very reason. She will win against that Queen without a shred of mercy, extract all the information from her even if she has to use her own non-log-out virus against her and then reunite with her fallen partner in crime. She won’t back down. She presses a button on her Duel Disk, hoping its stealthy sides will allow it to go unnoticed, and resumes her turn.

This ends now.

Her plan somewhat works. Queen’s deck has never been made for the Tindangle archetype: her pride will be the loss of her, what an ironic turn of events she cannot not love witnessing. Bypassing a Trap card through Monster effects, using a Spell to break through another barrier, she manages to beat Tindangle Hound without meaning to. She quickly consoles herself by thinking Akira wouldn’t have wanted to see his Monster that way, in that deck, before finishing the duel off by destroying the light monarch on the field.

The palace starts to worsen as the holograms disappear and Ema walks to the fallen queen on the floor, her throne having been destroyed by Hexstia’s final strike. Her virus hasn’t worked, sadly, since all she gets from Queen is a glare and an instant logging-out. Oh well. There is, however, an ironically stereotypical character to how her prison seems to be the room whose door was hidden by the throne. Ema’s instincts never mistake her, but before she goes through the door, she must pick up the Tindangle Hound card which fell to the ground. There are Monsters who don’t deserve to be left behind in a graveyard, and this palace is already becoming one.

Strangely enough, she doesn’t find Acute Cerberus or Tindangle Angel near the Hound. This was, indeed, a twisted joke: separating the siblings figuratively was also rubbing salt into the wound.

The prison part of the palace is as dark as one would expect it to be: the sharp change from overwhelming white to almost complete darkness with neon blue lines hurts her eyes, maybe in a last attempt to blind her and make her go back home, but Ghost Girl doesn’t back down. She never does. She’s so close to freeing her fallen partner in crime, if she was to walk back, she would hold a grudge against herself for the next eternity to come.

All the other “cages”, which look more like cocoons composed of geometrical pieces of metal, are empty. She would have at least expected there to be fallen bounty hunters or previous lovers with dirty on Queen to reveal to the world to be there, but there seems to only be one person and she exactly knows who because, as it stands, he is right in front of her, on the other side of the drawn-out corridor, stuck in a transparent cage. Humiliation really seems to be something Queen is into.

As she arrives in front of it, she brushes her hand against the shell. There has to be a way to open it up, she thinks as she goes past it. It has to be remote-controlled just like everything else in Link VRAINS, probably by a program in Queen’s possession. Nothing she cannot hack: it seems to be less complex than Hanoi’s programming, so she proceeds to open a control panel on her own disk and checks the beast out.

The programming of this thing is far weaker than she could have expected: in minutes, she finds a fatal flaw in the code that allows her to break it from the inside by causing a fatal error, making it vanish in digital fairy powder and its prisoner fall to the ground with a noticeable lack of grace. If they weren’t in a virtual world, he’d have surely scratched his knees on the floor.

Before she knows it Ema has knelt right next to him, deciding whether or not it’s time to truly be earnest and honest or if she should just be smug and mischievous as usual. Her heart, whom she always trusts, tells her not to be such a jackass. Her hands around his shoulders, he feels strangely fragile: he always been slender, perhaps because he has been used to eating little to survive before, but never has she had the feeling he was fragile, as though he was made of glass, before. Maybe it’s not about his frame, then, but if that’s the case, why does it feel that way?

He’s unconscious at first, when she picks him in her arms. She is at first tempted to get him out of that pseudo-palace, hack her avatar some strength to carry him like a bride (and then tease him about it), but she doesn’t have the time to do that: the building threatens to fall on them, breaking a breach at a time, and they need to get out of here fast. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, an arm of hers around his torso right under the armpits and her other hand sustaining his arm in place where it should be. He’s a deadweight, but she’s not going to lose now.

Walking Akira around on her shoulders when he isn’t able to walk is terribly slowing her down and she truly wishes she would have had the time to make herself stronger. On another hand, she can still wish for him to wake up and help himself up. If she isn’t wrong, his own avatar hasn’t been injured in any way: he’ll be fine when he’s going to log off too.

Remind her again why their relationship is “professional”?

The blinding white of the ceilings and walls is slowly fading into an ugly brown, mud covering the walls, moss climbing in every corner, rotting starting to infect the premise. They needed to make it out fast, before anything could break and block their way. Quick, Ghost Girl, run at the speed of sound and don’t look back!

It’s breathless but immensely relieved for herself that Ema eventually makes it out of that place one room at a time, the one she just exited never failing to break right after she’s through with it. When the light of outside virtual sky finally appears in front of her eyes, through a door which isn’t technically far but feel too distant to her own tastes and pace, she secretly hopes very much to make it out alive at that point.

And she actually does: she wins against the clock, manages to get them both out of here with no scratch on their limbs and goes back on her D-Board, sitting on it still out of breath with a man on her lap, trying to recover from the sudden anxiety and pressure to find a safe spot. In theory, she would better off log out and try finding Akira in Den City instead, but she has no idea if he’s even able to log out. She hasn’t detected any external program that could make it so he couldn’t, but with an unconscious avatar, she can’t tell for sure.

They eventually arrive in what she knows to be an empty, desert and hidden spot in New Link VRAINS. That’s only then than Akira chooses to wake up (hah, took him long enough), groggily sitting back up correctly even if his back was already sat against the wall courtesy of his saviour herself. He seems lost for a few minutes as she goes to sit next to him. She doesn’t feel like staying up and he looks too tired to do that. Maybe she can ask him a few questions while they’re here, alone together and sitting on the same level.

“Ema…? Where are we…?” He starts the interrogation station by looking around.

“In a discreet spot in Link VRAINS.”

“Ah, I… I think I see. I don’t remember much from before waking up, but I know I was in SOL’s headquarters and lost a duel against Queen. Wait,” he looks to her with astonishment all over his features but a slight smile nearing, “that means you’ve won against her, right?”

“You called it! I had to escape that crumbling place with your deadweight on my shoulders. You owe me a lot, Akira Zaizen!”

“Oh… I’m sorry for that, then. I’m not sure of what happened, but I’ll make sure to pay you back for this.”

“I trust you on that.”

She then remembers something, and another cheeky smile appears on her lips as she gets it out of her Extra Deck space.

“Ah, right, I almost forgot about that,” she tells him as she gets it out of her disk.

His eyes land on the card in her hands.

“Tindangle Hound?” he wonders out loud as he picks it up again. “What was it doing in your deck?”

“Queen had stolen it from you after your defeat against her, I simply took it back when winning.” She never mentions how Queen also happened to have summoned it against her, maybe another day. “Thought I’d give it back to its rightful owner!”

“Why did she have it in her deck, though? That doesn’t make sense with the archetype and deck type she plays…”

“Well, huh… It really didn’t match her deck to begin with. That’s what caused her defeat against me in a duel where either could have won. I think it was to… intimidate me, or to remind everyone that you had lost against her. That’s pretty messed up if you ask me.”

“I owe you this too now… Thank you very much, Ema.”

Usually, she’d have prided herself in her victory, teased him further, but they’re both tired of fighting for today. Maybe she can allow herself to be honest, just this once…

“I’m sure Aoi and the other two are fighting well as we’re speaking. You don’t have to worry for them.”

“You’re right.”

“By the way… would you happen to be free at some point in the following weeks? I know how you could repay me, and I need to tell you in person.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll make sure to have a free spot for this in my schedule.”

“You’re usually too busy to even tell me that, aren’t you?”

“Well, to be exact… With how damaging this will be to SOL, I don’t expect it to be for a few weeks. I can, however, promise you I’ll think it out, if this is any better.”

“I appreciate the consideration, Akira.”

This doesn’t prevent her from muttering under her breath, “that’s why we never have dates…”; which in turn leads him to abruptly turn his head to her with zero subtlety and an awkward red flashing on his face.

“You said what I heard, right?”

“Yes…” Well, there goes her complete win over today.

“I… suppose we should consider that one day, if you think this is how I can repay you. You’ve done a lot for me these past months. I do, however, not really understand how this could be retribution…”

“…You owe me a date then.”

She cannot tell if he’s either too embarrassed to tell her this is a stupid idea (and it, frankly, would be to her if she hadn’t realized that during her duel) or if he is too awkward to tell her he’s on board. All she’s basing herself from is the timid smile she sees creeping on his face and his suddenly very nervous gestures towards her. It’s as it he forgot he could look at her directly.

“Then so be it…” he eventually spits out, looking in the distance, both of them slipping into a silence which progressively becomes comfortable.

After all, as opposed to him, he has always been more of a thinker than a rusher (except when his sister is involved: in which case, he becomes a furious beast). He needs his time to think this through, to cool down, when she’s always on her feet. Oh wait, so be it. The Blue Oni he represents to her Red is a nice combination too.

As such, she can consider this timid “and so be it” a win, right? This ends in a complete victory for the bounty huntress Ghost Girl, of course: it, however, goes far past this and duels. This is a personal win and nobody can take that back from her.

#vrains #hireshipping #vrainsrarepairweeks #my writing

2 notes · View notes

ofmortem · 4 years

Photo

𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑹𝑰𝑫 𝑹𝒀𝑲𝑲𝑬𝑳 / 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒕

( NATALIE DORMER, SHE/HER ) 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃! there’s ( INGRID RYKKEL ), the ( SERVANT ). she is ( THIRTY ) and from (DENMARK). (SHE) is known around the village as ( CAPTIVATING & ENTHUSIASTIC ), but also ( DEVIOUS & MALICIOUS ). Hedeby is the land of wealth and opportunity, will you stand with it, or against it? ( ADMIN SARAH, CST, 23, SHE/HER. )

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

Before the crowning of King Ragnar, the Rykkel family has gone through hardships for as long as Ingrid could ever remember. Her father, Harald, was once an earl in Hedeby, but once he has lost his supporters, their lands and titles were stripped from them and were exiled. It was only until around the time that Ingrid was just an infant was when the family was blessed by the Gods and was able to return home. Deprived of her birthright, Ingrid was brought up in a life of a peasant, alongside her younger sister. Despite knowing these stories, Ingrid is glad that she was too young to remember the life of the power and wealth, as she truly doesn’t know how it feels to have something so luxurious to be removed from her.

Unlike her siblings, Ingrid liked to take life day by day, forgetting the past and only focusing on the foreseeing future. Being a servant isn’t the grandest rank in the village, but it could be worse, the slaves imported from foreign lands gets it worse than she does. However, she feels that she is at an advantage due to being raised in the village and knowing everyone. People do tend to sympathise Ingrid for her father’s mistakes. They see her as this delicate, beautiful, innocent woman when behind all that, she was able to deceive them all. In a way, she wants to become her own person, and not be tied to by the name she was birthed with. She had always felt ashamed by her father’s mistakes, and hoped one day she is able to succeed much more than he did -- but it is quite difficult to even accomplish the littlest thing by being only a servant in this rapidly growing village of Hedeby. But with new people coming from all across the world, there has to be someone to help get her out and see her for her true self? Or, perhaps, that person happened to be a Hedeby under her nose this whole time...

One winter, Ingrid fell through thin ice and couldn’t make it up to show due to be dragged deeper by the river’s current. Finally taking her final gasps for air and choking, she saw a very bright light and was pulled out from the water. She saw a glimpse of the person’s face but it was just seconds later until they just disappeared as if they were wind passing by. Ingrid knew she had a God watching over her, as no being like herself was capable of getting through thick ice and that small amount of time. It had only encouraged Ingrid more in her findings more about perhaps the Gods walking amongst them. The thought of it does comfort her, but it also scares her to know what perhaps they’re capable of.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒��𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

Beloved by many, Ingrid is a woman with a sweet and gentle soul. A woman that always has a smile on her face, and laughter that can easily change the tone in the room. She is almost like a magnet, and people find themselves easily drawn to her. Ingrid is truly captivating, but a woman that seems so flawless, she has quite a dark look about herself that is nothing even close to being a perfect and flawless woman. Very cunning, malicious, she can be quite a threat once on her bad side. All her life, she felt like she always had to fight, going the extra mile to get what she wants or they will never happen. She is too smart, too ambitious in the body that she is in. The thing is though, would her own ambition and mindset get herself hurt, or worse, killed? With a mouth so quick, it is only a matter of time until she is approached by a stranger who doesn’t mind in causing pain.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

unbeknownst, she messes around with dark magic believing that it is for the greater good. little does she know...

since a young age, she had believed the gods are walking amongst them and tries to find as much information about them to prove that she isn’t crazy like everyone says she is.

she has done some of the people’s bad bidding and had several people killed under her own hand for an extra coin. ingrid doesn’t exactly know how she feels about that--but it is all kept secret and is bottled up inside of her.

once promised to several suitors, all ending up not working out. ingrid is feeling defeated, as she knows that she has the beauty to bewitch them, it had to be something else...

ingrid desires a family and to be a wife, but doesn’t know if there will ever be a good time for a life to settle when the world seems to be suddenly changing so fast.

ingrid has two siblings--an older brother and a younger sister

she is perhaps the favourite child compared to her other siblings.

Will be adding more information here once I think of more details

#helvegenhqintro #bio

0 notes