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pinknatural · 3 years ago

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After a long while, Jack straightens back up, wiping away his tears.

“Sorry about your shirt,” he says again. Dean waves his hand in dismissal. What’s some snot and tears?

“It’s fine,” he says again. “I mean it, kid.”

Jack looks like he might begin to cry all over again, but he sniffs and makes a valiant effort not to. They’re in a motel room--Dean couldn’t bear the Bunker, and Sam and Eileen’s honeymoon phase. He’s happy for them, of course he is, but seeing them so in love is kind of painful, and Dean could tell Sam was trying not to be overt about it to spare Dean’s feelings, and Dean just felt that, well--he might as well remove himself from the situation, at least for a little bit.

(Plus, now he has some peace and quiet--the motel room is littered with books and research, scrolls and files and other pieces of lore--all on the afterlife, of course. All on how to get there.)

“Okay,” Jack says. “Okay.” He raises a glowing hand to his own forehead, but he pauses when his fingers are about an inch away. He swallows.

“Come on, kid, what are you waiting for?” Dean asks.

“I could bring her back,” Jack whispers. “I should bring her back.”

He lowers his hand, turns a stricken gaze to Dean.

“Who?” Dean asks. He thinks, Kelly. He thinks, Maggie. He thinks, absurdly, Charlie.

“Emma,” Jack says.

Dean feels as if he’s been hit over the head.

“What?” he says. Has he turned into a fish and been left out on the docks? Where did all the air go?

“You’ve been thinking about her,” Jack says, like a confession. “Praying.” He has, if only because he’s been wallowing in what he can’t have, the husband, the daughter. He has, if only because he’s been wondering if the way to the Empty could be through Purgatory. Would he have time to sweep the place first? Would he be able to find her, unlike the last two times he was there?

“Yeah,” Dean tries to say, but no sound comes out. He tries again. “Yeah. You could really…?”

“I can do anything,” Jack says, with a sad, bitter smile, and Dean reaches for him. Jack falls into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Dean’s back, clinging to his shirt. Dean runs a hand up his back, cups the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to,” Dean says. It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever said. “God, kid, I’d like nothing more, but you don’t have to. You gotta do what’s best for you, you hear me?”

“I know,” Jack says. He sniffles. Dean thinks he might be crying again. “And I love Claire so much but I just want my sister. Dad, I want to bring her back.”

Dean squeezes his son. He closes his eyes.

“Then bring her back,” he whispers, and one of Jack’s hands leaves Dean’s back. Golden light shines, starting behind Dean and filling up the room, making it brighter and brighter and Jack gets smaller and smaller and Dean just holds on, tighter and tighter.

The light fades.

A little boy has his face buried in Dean’s gut, arms wrapped tight around Dean. They don’t even go all the way around, anymore. Dean runs a hand through Jack’s hair, stunned even though Jack told him this was what he wanted, even though they’d talked and talked about it before Jack decided to go through with it.

“What?” a tiny voice says, and Dean turns around.

Emma is standing there, only she’s not--she’s not exactly the Emma Dean remembers. Instead of being sixteen, she’s something like eight years old, eyes wide and hair tangled with leaves. She’s splattered with blood, and wearing the same clothes she’d died in--the same clothes Dean buried her in. They’re too big for her, and she looks like she’s on the verge of tears.

“What happened?” she asks, looking around the motel room wildly. “Where am I?”

“Emma,” Dean says, untangling himself from the three year old on the bed and kneeling, reaching out gently. He stays near the bed, afraid of spooking her. “You were rescued from Purgatory. You’re safe.” He turns to Jack. “Why is she little?”

“She’s human,” Jack says, shrugging. He’s chewing on the end of his sleeve, eyes wide. His clothes, at least, are three-year-old sized. Dean wonders where he’s supposed to get Emma some clothes, but there’s a pink suitcase sitting beside Dean’s duffel. The sight of it is too much, and he looks back at his daughter.

“Safe?” Emma repeats, looking down at her hands. She flexes her tiny fingers.

“Eight years have passed,” Dean says, still holding out his hands--he’s not sure if he’s trying to soothe her or reach for her. “You’re safe, you don’t have to kill anyone, I won’t hurt you.”

Emma looks around again. She sees her suitcase and stares at it, then swings her gaze back around. “Who’s that?” She points at Jack.

“That’s Jack, that’s my son,” Dean says. “Your brother. He brought you back.”

“How?”

“He was powered up--he was God--but now he’s just a kid,” Dean says. “He, um, wanted to bring you back.”

“Dada was prayin’ for you,” Jack says, voice muffled around the sleeve he’s still chewing. Dean reaches out and gently removes it from his mouth. “He wanted you to come back. I wanted to meet you.”

“Oh,” Emma says. She looks down at her pants. “I’m all dirty.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “The bathroom’s over there if you want to--shower. I can help you if you want.”

Emma shakes her head and reaches for her suitcase. She goes into the bathroom, turning around and looking back at Dean and Jack, eyes wide, until she shuts the door behind her. Dean collapses back onto his feet, running his hands over his face, laughing incredulously.

“I did good?” Jack asks, sliding off the bed and crawling onto Dean’s lap. “I did good?”

“Yeah, buddy,” Dean says, voice cracking. He hears the shower turn on, the water begin to run. He curls up tight over Jack. “You did great.”

The first thing Cas is aware of is big blue eyes. The rest of the features on that face sharpen into a nose and mouth, grace smearing around the small face, and although it seems impossible, it can only be--

“Jack?”

“Daddy!” Jack cries, and he throws himself onto Cas. Cas catches him easily, holds his tiny body within his arms. Oh, he’s so small. His golden wings stretch as big as they go, which is not very big, to wrap themselves around Cas, and reflexively he wraps his own around Jack as well, holding him tight, rocking slightly back and forth.

Then he remembers--everything, and that he’s supposed to be dead, and he looks up.

Green eyes. Freckles, slightly crooked nose, beloved mouth, beloved jawline.

“Cas,” Dean croaks, and he falls to his knees. Cas is on the floor, legs crossed and Jack curled up on his lap. Cas doesn’t want to let go but Jack wiggles away, and Cas is afraid to reach out but helpless to do anything else.

Dean crawls toward him, falls against him. He presses his face into Cas’ neck and breathes, in and out, and Cas thinks he might be crying. But Cas is breathing Dean in, and he smells like the Impala (home) and guns (safety) and lemon (Dean) and Cas’ eyes aren’t very dry, either.

“You dumb son of a bitch,” Dean says, voice tucked safe into the place between Cas’ neck and shoulder. “You goddamned idiot. You stupid fucker. You dumbass, you, you.”

“Dean,” Cas says, and Dean shudders out a shaky breath, breathes heavily against him. Dean is alive in Cas’ arms, and he couldn’t be happier.

He tilts his gaze up, looking for Jack, and he finds instead a little girl with brown-blonde hair. She’s wearing a pink t-shirt and denim shorts and one of Dean’s flannels. She’s practically swimming in it, but her sleeves are rolled up and her eyes are the same apple-green as Dean’s, and Cas holds Dean tighter.

“Emma?” he asks. She nods and looks away uncomfortably.

“Emmie, Emmie, my daddy’s back,” Jack says, bouncing over to her and dancing around, wings flapping madly.

“Yeah,” Emma says.

Dean clears his throat and finally leans back from Cas. He reaches out an arm and Emma comes over to him, sitting on the floor beside him and tucking herself against his side. Dean wipes away tears with his other hand as Jack barrels back around, throwing himself into Cas’ lap. Cas holds him and looks around.

They’re in a motel room, two queen beds, identical to the countless ones Sam and Dean have stayed in over the years. But there’s a pink suitcase next to the TV and a blue duffel with sharks on it beside it. On one of the beds there’s a pair of stuffed rabbits, one pink and one yellow. There are various books and scrolls piled on the little table beside the couch and also piled onto the couch itself. Spell ingredients are on the floor, spread out over a placemat.

“Daddy,” Emma says, and Cas looks at her, tugging on Dean’s overshirt. His heart melts. Dean deserves nothing less, of course, but he knows what toll gaining then losing a daughter has had on Dean. He’s so glad that Dean can have her back, that she can have Dean, too, that she can have another chance. She deserves it, and already Cas looks at her and sees her hair in a careful braid and her Wonder Woman socks and he knows he would die for her. “If me and Jack are siblings and you’re Jack’s dad and that’s Jack’s dad, too, then. Um.”

She looks at Cas nervously. Dean squeezes her shoulders.

“Me and Cas have to talk about all that,” Dean says. Cas is astounded that it’s not an instant denial.

“We do?” he asks, and Dean meets his gaze head on.

“Yeah,” he says. “We got a lotta stuff to talk about, you and me. Kids, why don’t you watch some TV and Cas and I’ll go outside.”

Jack scrambles off of Cas’ lap and turns around, presses a wet kiss to Cas’ cheek, then he climbs onto the bed with the stuffed animals. He grabs onto the yellow bunny and Emma crawls beside him, putting the pink bunny on her lap and pointing the remote at the TV. Cas stands and offers his hand to Dean, who takes it, lets Cas pull him up.

Dean goes outside and Cas follows, of course he does. They don’t let go of each other’s hands.

“Why are we in a motel?” Cas asks. Dean shrugs.

“Needed some space,” he says. “Then I wasn’t sure how big of a house to get.”

“A house?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. He rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand. “Can’t raise kids in a bunker, come on man.”

“What about Sam?”

“He’s fine,” Dean says. “On a hunt with Eileen.”

“Oh,” Cas says, slightly confused.

“Yeah, I dunno,” Dean says. “Salt-and-burn in Orlando, I think. So, um, listen, man…”

“Thank you for getting me out of the Empty,” Cas blurts, afraid Dean is about to reject him. He has always known Dean would do so, but he thinks to hear it would be--upsetting.

“Of course,” Dean says. “You’re, um. I couldn’t just leave you there, you’re--”

“Family?” Cas suggests.

“Yeah,” Dean says. He takes a step forward. “Though, you know, I’ve been thinkin’ about what we are to each other.”

“You have?” Cas takes a step back when Dean takes another step forward.

“Yeah,” Dean breathes. “Living together, raising a kid together, dying for each other. Never wanting to be apart.”

“Oh?” Cas says, and his back hits the wall. Dean stands over him, caging him in with only one hand--the other still wrapped around Cas’ palm, their fingers intertwined.

“You know what that sounds like?” Dean asks, breath ghosting along Cas’ jaw, and Cas can’t really think. Why is Dean standing so close to him?

“Family?” Cas croaks, brain stuck on the word. Family, they’re family.

“I was thinking it sounded like husbands, Cas,” Dean says, and then Cas doesn’t have to worry about why Dean is standing so close anymore, because Dean kisses him, and Cas’ brain ceases functioning--but it’s okay, because if Dean says they’re husbands, who is Cas to argue?

Sam pulls up to the motel after dropping Eileen off at the Bunker. She was tired from driving all night and Sam doesn’t blame her, but he can’t believe he’s missed everything while he went to one measly salt-and-burn.

He parks the car and gets out, crossing the parking lot. He knocks on the door and Claire opens it. She looks the same as always, except she has a purple stuffed bunny peeking out of her jacket pocket. Sam is smart enough not to comment on this.

She steps aside and lets him in, and Emma squeaks and practically climbs up Dean when she sees him. It’s a work in progress, with her, and Sam feels terrible but he’s not sure what he can do besides give her time, so he looks away and instead turns to Cas, who smiles when he sees him.

“Sam!” he says, and he stands up from the couch, crosses the room and hugs him.

“It’s good to see you,” Sam says, clapping Cas on the back.

“Sam!” Jack says, and he barrels towards Sam’s legs with the determination of a battering ram, and Sam intercepts him before he can make contact, picking him up and swinging him over his shoulder. Jack laughs and laughs, and Kaia waves at Sam from her spot curled up on the couch.

“This motel room is very full,” Sam says, looking around, and Dean grins at him.

“That’s why we’re shopping, Sammy,” he says, and he points at his laptop.

“Find anything good?” Sam asks, crossing the room to sit on the couch so he can see the computer. He deposits Jack into Cas’ arms, and Dean comes to sit on his other side. Emma stays on the bed, hiding behind Claire, who’s obviously taking guard-duty pretty seriously since she’s half-glaring at Sam.

Sam looks away and turns his gaze toward the computer.

“We weren’t finding any good listings so we’re looking for some land, now,” Dean says.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in the Bunker? We’ve got a lotta room,” Sam says.

“Nah,” Dean says. He slings his arm around Cas, who’s perched on the arm of the couch. “We need a house.”

“Windows,” Cas says solemnly, tangling his and Dean’s fingers, and Sam notes the movement with a pleased smile.

“But if we build a house we can add-in wards and stuff, right into the foundations,” Dean says. “We can make sure it’s safe, and good.”

“Will you build it?” Sam asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Damn straight,” Dean says. The silver band on his ring finger flashes as he shuts the laptop. Jack crawls into Kaia’s lap, and she wraps her arms around him.

“I think it’s a good idea,” she says.

“Yeah,” Sam says. He meets his brother’s eyes. “Me too.”

(ao3)

#girl this got so much longer than i thought it would be #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #emmanatural #jack kline #emma winchester #sam winchester #claire novak #kaia neives #i hope u guys like that all i do is write emma or cas gets rescued over and over again with slightly different variations #writingtag

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solena2 · 3 years ago

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So.

Tommy isn’t Theseus. Every time I see Techno’s analogy about Tommy being Theseus brought up I’m filled with endless rage and I’ve DECIDED!

That it’s about time I explained just why it’s so objectively incorrect.

First: a bit of backstory on Theseus, because I doubt many of you actually know much about him beyond what Techno said in his “so you want to be a hero” speech, which left out a lot of relevant details.

Theseus was a demigod with two fathers and one mother. His fathers were king Aegeus of Athens and the sea god Poseidon, and his mother was Aethra, Aegeus’ wife. Aethra raised Theseus on her own, far from Athens to avoid him being assassinated.

Aegeus left him nothing but a sword with the Athenian crest and a pair of sandals, buried under a rock so no one else could get them.

When Theseus came of age, he took the sword and sandals and headed up to Athens, slaying various monsters along the way. (It pains me to abbreviate it that much, but Techno left out everything before the Minotaur so it won’t help me much in debunking his analogy.)

Once he got to Athens, he met up with his dad, chased out his stepmom Medea, (yes, that Medea) and killed some people. Then comes the relevant part.

Crete had won a war against Athens a while back, and because of this, every seven years Athens was forced to send 14 tributes to be killed by the Minotaur. (Yes, this inspired the Hunger Games)

Theseus decided he’d volunteer and kill the Minotaur, thus ending the tribute system for good and getting one over on Athens. He promised his dad that if he won, he’d come back in a ship with white sails, as opposed to the standard mourning black that signified the death of the tributes.

So he went to Crete, met king Minos and his daughters Ariadne and Phaedra, and got sent into the labyrinth. Ariadne gave him a magic ball of string that kept him from getting lost, allowing him to find the Minotaur and then safely get out afterwards, providing he could kill it.

He killed it, led his other 13 tributes out, and sailed back home. On the way, Athena told him to leave Ariadne stranded on a tiny island in the middle of the ocean, so he immediately did so, because Theseus was an asshole.

He got home, his dad committed suicide because Theseus forgot the white sails and his dad assumed he’d died, Theseus became king and married Phaedra, and then the fun began, because again, Theseus was an asshole.

First, he cheated on Phaedra with Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons, so she left and took the kids. Next, he and his other asshole friend Pirithous decided to kidnap themselves some new wives. Theseus decided on Helen of Troy, who was a child at the time, and Pirithous decided on Persephone, which resulted in both him and Theseus getting stuck in the Underworld for a while due to pissing off Hades.

Once he got back up, he killed his son for fucking his wife, which is messed up on many levels, and then left Athens because his people were rightfully not super okay with that.

Then he goes and meets Lycomedes, who throws him off a cliff.

Next, let’s talk about Techno’s speech a bit.

He starts off by accusing Tommy of being a power hungry dictator (paraphrased), before asking him if he wants to be a hero.

Then, he provides what is apparently the archetypal example of heroism, something often associated with selflessness, kindness, and generally giving at least one singular solitary fuck about other people.

Theseus! Heroic hero who does heroic things, like, uhhh *checks notes* cheating on his wife, kidnapping children with plans to forcefully marry them, leaving people alone on tiny islands with no supplies, killing his kid, etc. etc...

So we’re off to a great start.

Then, he gives a short summary of Theseus’ life and times! He skips the first part of his life completely, which is hilarious to me because it’s the only time Theseus ever did anything actually heroic or selfless, and gets straight to the meat!

“Let me tell you a story, Tommy. A story of a man called Theseus. His country was in danger, he sent himself forward! Into enemy lines. He slayed the Minotaur! And saved his city. You know what they did to him, Tommy? They exiled him. He died in disgrace, despised by his people. That’s what happens to heroes, Tommy.”

-Technoblade

So first off, he doesn’t mention... really anything other than the Minotaur and the exile, which is leaving out a lot of relevant details, like why Theseus was exiled. (You know, killing his son in cold blood?)

Second, he doesn’t give details in general. Not that he should’ve given a full telling, or anything, but I’m always surprised by the shortness of this speech when I go back and listen to it. He pretty much just gives the barest bones of an argument and expects his audience to take it at face value. (Which they do, but it’s still bad practice)

From the more accurate (if still brief) summary if Theseus’ life I’ve just given, I’m sure you can see why this might be more than a bit dubious, as an analogy. Given cc!Technoblade is literally an English major, and doubtless knows significantly more about the myth than I do, I’d imagine this was never intended to be taken at face value.

Over and over again, c!Techno proves himself to be an unreliable narrator, and over and over again, the fandom at large takes his word as gospel.

Now, as far as a more in depth argument for Tommy as Theseus goes, I will attempt to debunk that as well, because there are some genuinely good points to be made.

First of all, most people make Dream out to be the Minotaur. Given the time this speech was made, I imagine Schlatt was the intended target of that, but with latter events in mind, Dream does make much more sense.

I’d say this is honestly pretty fair, but I don’t think Tommy takes the role of Theseus in that narrative. I’d argue he’s much more analogous to the role of Ariadne, giving the tools required to defeat Dream but ultimately not doing so through his own power, but because someone chose to take those tools and make use of them. This also provides the very interesting characterization of Punz as Theseus, which is an incredibly unique take that I hope some a Punz enthusiast does something with, because I don’t know enough about his lore to make a good analysis on that.

The idea of Schlatt as the Minotaur, as was probably intended by Techno at the time, makes much more sense, though I still think other characters fit the role better. Firstly, Schlatt wasn’t killed, he died of a heart attack, and if someone had killed him I think it’s more likely to have been Wilbur or Techno who did it than Tommy, as Tommy was still very hopeful and idealistic at the time, at least compared to his character now. You could posit Tommy as Ariadne again in this situation, given he was the one to mastermind the final charge, and though I think Tommy as Ariadne is an idea that’s worth further exploration, I’d say Fundy futs the Ariadne role here much better, with him giving the spy’s diary before being effectively shunned and left out in the cold by both Pogtopia and Manburg, much like Ariadne was abandoned in the original myth.

I’d posit the Theseus in this scenario as Techno, Wilbur, or possibly Philza, as they were the ones to actually kill things in the 16th, though Techno and Wilbur’s killings were more in the metaphorical sense, taking the second life of L’manburg.

As for the exile, Tommy exile was alike to that of Theseus only in concept. Both were sent from their kingdoms for a crime, resulting in a falling out with someone close to them, and had a precarious relationship with heights while they were gone, but that’s about where the similarities end and even then they’re superficial.

First of all, Tommy’s exile was far more because Dream was looking for an excuse to do it than because briefing actually means anything on the SMP, given how Dream had been griefing bases and blaming Tommy for it for a while before it went down. (Fun fact, Bad and Skeppy were going to burn one of his discs over this, but one of them got sick so they had to cancel the stream.)

Theseus’ exile, on the other hand, was entirely deserved, especially when you consider how serious a crime killing family was in Ancient Greek culture. It was pretty much the biggest no-no in existence, and I’m almost surprised he wasn’t just straight up executed for it.

Second, Tommy’s falling out with Tubbo was almost entirely due to outside forces, (Dream) rather than because anything Tommy had done. Though Tommy’s cavalierness towards the trial and attempts to threaten Dream with Spirit doubtless didn’t help things, Dream surrounding L’manburg in obsidian walls and threatening them to exile Tommy was entirely his own choice, and not something that can be pinned on Tommy, no matter what the apologists may say.

Meanwhile, Theseus’ falling out with Phaedra had begun long before his exile with him cheating on her. Him killing his son was merely the last in a long line of dominos to completely destroy their relationship.

Last, Tommy nearly killing himself is very different from Theseus being pushed off a cliff. Tommy’s near suicide was the direct result of physical and emotional abuse at the hands of c!Dream for what was canonically, I believe, several months? (Correct me if I’m wrong on that one.) Tommy almost jumping off a pillar because he was deliberately isolated from his support systems is nothing like Theseus being killed because he was a cocky asshole who thought he was god.

So that’s why I don’t think Tommy is anything like Theseus, and why I’m filled with endless rage by the completely uncritical acceptance of this parallel, but it’s not the whole reason it pisses me off.

It also pisses me off because, as stated earlier, cc!Techno is an English major. He knew what he was doing with this. The fandom’s insistence on refusing to acknowledge his character as an unreliable narrator is, in my opinion, acting as a massive kneecap to what could be a great analysis of how he thinks.

Specifically: why does c!Technoblade think Tommy is like Theseus?

Of all the Greek heroes to pick, why that one? Was it just the tantalizing opportunity to parallel Schlatt with a horned monster, or was it because c!Techno has some genuine in-character reason to think this myth specifically applies to Tommy.

Now, we all know people in the SMP have a habit of analogizing Wilbur and Tommy. The assumption Tommy wanted to be president, the belief that Tommy nominated Tubbo directly, the belief that he was intentionally deceiving Techno about Pogtopia’s intentions regarding Manburg... all of these stem from Wilbur. There are more cases of this, of course, but several analyses have been done in the subject already, and this is long enough without more padding.

So why does Techno think Tommy is Theseus? Well, it’s simple, isn’t it?

Wilbur is Theseus.

To be continued, because this is already too long and my brain hurts.

#original post #dream smp #dream smp analysis #technoblade #tommyinnit #technoblade critical #(i guess. honestly I didn’t say much about techno himself in this but just to be safe)#dsmp #dsmp analysis #dream smp meta #dsmp meta #my writing #can you tell i don’t like Theseus much #hated to leave out his early life stuff because it’s genuinely super interesting but it wasn’t really relevant so I had to cut it :(#if you want a more detailed description of Theseus I’d recommend the rick riordan book on Greek heroes #it’s not the most scholarly work but it gives the bare bones of the myths in an accessible way that doesn’t take an English degree to read #call me a fake nerd if you want but I like the humor and digestibility #there are typos in this post and I Do Not Care

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lore-of-the-silvereyes-rwby · 4 years ago

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Ironwood Summary

Here we are at last the final conclusion of this long character analysis series, for now. This is mostly going to be my own opinion of the character based on the research I did for the analysis. As well as some ideas of what may happen to the character in future volumes and overall standing of what the character was always meant to be and represent in the rwby narrative. Also keep in mind that this is only an analysis of Ironwood’s character pre Volume 8 so there won’t be any spoilers used in this analysis or summary

(Before we begin i want to thank @spacecapart for his art to be used in this summary as i feel this piece summarizes how i feel about Ironwood)

When I started researching and writing on July 31st 2020 for Ironwood and the months that followed I feel like I have gained a better understanding of what exactly Ironwood’s character was meant to be while making sure my overall opinion of him wasn’t biased but honest and neutral.

For the most part Ironwood’s life was just sad because, well it was never really his to begin with, since he pretty much had no say in it. Based on what I saw and learned about him with the help of additional lore as well as the current story Ironwood was just a tool and a plot device in the narrative.

He started as a tool for Mantle(pre Atlas) which planted the seeds that made him this cold inhuman person that we see at present due to its old toxic ideologies of imperialism and militarism combined with a Nietzsche's philosophy that survives and thrives through Ironwood once he become a de facto king when Atlas became an official kingdom.

Then he became a tool for Oz to protect and safeguard the current status quo without benefiting from it. Though it was with good intentions Ironwood couldn’t help but feel insulted that he was being restricted and kept in check by someone who does not share his belief or ideals of what he considers right even though they weren't his beliefs or the best to begin with.

Finally after all was said and done he became a tool for the very enemy that he swore to fight and defend against. Due to his toxic upbringing in Atlas and his bitter resentment for Oz he tried to take matters in his own hands only for it to backfire immensely into the events that we see in the show. As I Stated in “The Hero that was never meant to be” Ironwood was more or less the most prominent catalyst for all of the events and conflicts in the show that Salem took advantage of and prospered from simply due to Ironwood’s elitist and violent mindset.

All of this just contributes to Ironwood being a plot device since that he’s essentially just a philosophical mouthpiece for Atlas as the show has somewhat made it clear that he is basically the physical embodiment of Atlas if it were a person with both a voice and need to survive. Which wouldn’t be so bad if Atlas wasn’t the Remnant equivalent of a fasciest imperialist dystopia. Most of Ironwood’s character flaws mostly stem from the fact that his is simply the product of his origins and refusing to change or find a compromise for the better.

Another thing that I believe should be taken into consideration is his overall effect in the plot. Added by how the narrative has been structured with its main conflict I think it's safe to assume that no matter what, Ironwood was always a character that was set to fail ever since his introduction. This is mostly due to the fact that most if not all of his power comes from control and authority over others. As well as his lack of actual experience when it comes to war and conflict.

As I stated in I am power with my own estimate of Ironwood’s age(47-50) based on his rank’s promotion requirements he has at least 30 years of experience from both his huntsmen and military career: 34 if we were to count his academy days of training. Now you're probably asking; “If he has that many years of experience in his career, then why are you saying he has none?” Well it is quite simple based on 2 factors; his professions and the time that he was born in.

At present he is both Headmaster of Atlas academy and the Atlas equivalent of the joint chiefs of staff of the Military. I think it's logical to assume that Ironwood gained the status of Headmaster first and General later due the needs of Oz. Given the importance of the relics hidden in the academies it would be a pragmatic choice for Oz to ensure that there was always a guardian and supervisor over the vaults as well as training the worlds next gen huntsmen(the agreed upon nuclear deterrent).

Since his profession shifted from field combat to school administration upon becoming headmaster most if not all of Ironwood’s career from this point on saw very little combat opportunities and would soon be filled with politics once he became General further diminishing his combat skills. Also since Generals are the face of the military they mostly handle diplomatic and public affairs as well as deal with civilian contractors to ensure the military has the resources and gear needed to sustain itself.

This means that Ironwood went from fare soldier, to desk jockey, to financial benefactor throughout the entirety of his 30 year long career. But the two thirds of his later career basically had no relevant or beneficial experience that would be suited for the war that he had been preparing a long time for. Ironwood’s lack of practical experience is also more damaging when you realize that the very little he did have also wouldn’t be of much help in the first place as well.

This is mostly due to the fact that Ironwood was born at the beginning of the high golden age of peace and prosperity for Mantle/Atlas and all of the concerning conflicts happening at least 5 years before the show’s start very late in his career at an estimated age of 45, with the white fang terrorists groups targeting SDC assets that he wanted for war.

Also his career at that point most likely focused on policing and enforcing Atlasian laws rather than doing actual combat and even then he was trained to fight grimm instead of human combatants and even if he had to fight people they most likely are that of combat inexperienced and petty criminals that wouldn’t actually put up that much of a challenge and even then most of the fighting was done by disposable robots that he can command with the press of a button.

Overall Ironwood was really unprepared to even fight anyone in general, let alone wage a war against Salem. Even if he had powered up that army to the maximum it really wouldn’t solve anything. Ever since the first episode of the series the message was clear; You're not going to win with just strength and power alone, but with acts of mercy and honesty. As well as just enjoying the simple things in life and just simply living life rather than just surviving. After all this time Ironwood forgot to live life and be satisfied with what he had. Because of this he’s just going to keep on pushing the limit until he loses everything that he has and drag everyone else with him. Simply because he wouldn’t admit to himself that he has no idea about what to do or accept that he wasn’t the most important piece on the board.

Which sadly brings me to the very likely truth that it is guaranteed that Ironwood’s part and time in the story is coming to an end and his death is drawing near. This has been foreshadowed in the beginning of volume 6 where the true plot and crisis of the story had basically made Atlas and by extension Ironwood irrelevant to the story when it's been made clear they can’t just simply kill Salem and win with brute force as he had hoped. Because of that Ironwood was no longer important to the story as they show and fandom have hyped him up to be. Even if he still had an actual role in the plot I’m afraid to say that Ironwood’s story (even if it wasn’t that much) has already been told and judging by the direction he is going by it’s only going to get worse for his character (moraly wise) to the point that his death may be a blessing in disguise for remnant.

To start we need to look at the essential core concepts that make up Ironwood’s character. If we remove all of his actions and focus on his archetypes we get a character that is A) Half robot, B) the de facto leader of an inefficient military(let's be honest it's just a glorified security force for rich douchebags.) C) A school principal and D) someone who essentially hails from what can be considered the most evil and inhuman kingdom of his world that values power and is placed into a story and conflict where none of those things even matter given what we know about the true stakes and consequences of the plot and this is essentially all that we even know about him in relation to the story.

Which brings me to this point that in my opinion he wasn’t much of a character to begin with. This is mostly due to the fact that we really don’t know anything about him besides the summarized 4 points from the last section. We don’t know anything about him like how he became involved in the plot, how old he is, when and what caused him to be a cyber, does he have anyone outside of work or any family that he cares about and more importantly why does he fight in the first place and what motivates him to do so and what does he hope to gain? These details to me are important as to give depth to a character as to better understand why they are the way they are. Otherwise they are either a philosophical mouthpiece or a living ideological caricature. As I stated before in Ironwood’s case he is just that for Atlas, just a simple tool that it can use for whatever it needs.

Which also brings up another subject towards his contributions to the plot; What exactly can he do and was he really even that important to begin with? As I stated before Ironwood really doesn’t have much to offer besides the Military which has been proven to be useless and unneeded. But if it was to be needed that doesn’t automatically mean Ironwood should be the one leading it. For example should he be removed from power and replaced and the heroes really need the military wouldn’t it be simple just to involve the new commander and chief or appoint someone they can trust to ally with them. So yeah the military part as well as the academy are what give an individual like Ironwood any relevance but that doesn't automatically mean they’re that important or crucial to begin with.

Simply put Ironwood has always been a character in the wrong genre. Had he been placed in any other circumstance he may have had a point and could have succeeded but in the case of his story he doesn’t have one. Ever since his debut he has always been this source of contradictions and antagonism and contrast when it comes to how the world and characters have been set. Due to this Ironwood has always been this source of escalation and conflict as he only follows his own beliefs and tries to force others to comply with them. As well as the truth that he really has no idea of what to do since he was never really prepared to handle anything like this and added by the fact that he won’t admit or consider the possibility that he is not that needed or important. If he continues on with this type of thinking it's only going to warrant his end as simply put by Oscar he really is just as dangerous as Salem.

Before I explain his overall purpose and status in the Narrative I want to go over several ideas for what may be next for Ironwood throughout the rest of the series which will be explained further by the reasoning I will use in the narrative part.

Fate and status for Volume 8 and the rest of the series

Death

I think it's safe to say that Death flags have been hovering over Ironwood for a while or at least since Volume 7. But is it certain? Most likey. I say it’s near mostly due to my belief that his story has essentially been told and he really doesn’t have anything left to contribute to the plot at this point. The impact of his death whether it will leave a positive or negative impact remains uncertain. But the way of his death to me is certain; he’s going to die by the hands of another character(specifically a hero). I know most people would have hoped for a heroic sacrifice or a redemption by death but I don’t exactly see Ironwood doing such things. (Which I’ll explain in the next 2 bullet points)

If it hasn’t been made clear Ironwood has made more enemies than allies simply due to his inability to compromise or let go of his Atlasian ideals and ego. As well as his refusal to accept the fact that he really isn’t that important or necessary in this conflict or at least in the way he wanted to be. If he further descends into his own little world Ironwood is going to cause more problems and do more damage that can never be undone and the only way to stop it would be if he was out of the picture. Because of this Ironwood is likely to die in V8 or by the end of the Atlas arc but it is also possible that he may die at another point later in the series.

Redemption Arc

The chances for Ironwood’s redemption are slim but they’re there, but probably not in the usual way that everyone expects to happen. To help clarify the possibility of redemption we will be using the trifecta structure of redemption arcs. This includes; How the character sees himself, how they see the world, and the stakes and how they change over time. As well as the Scale and Values of his motivation. To help better understand let us take a look at Ironwood’s motivations and goals from V2 and how they contrast and differ from V7 Ironwood.

Volume 2 Ironwood’s motivations upon first glance are simple; stop the threat and ensure stability and security. However if you watch closely there is an ulterior motive. From this we can determine the true Values of his goals and the Scale of what he is willing to do to achieve them and they go as such;

His values as of V2 are security via large Military foundations and amassing complete control and influence over forign nations while promoting the agendas of Atlas imperialism.(similar to the Galactic empire in its early years from Star Wars) With the scale showing that he is willing to go to such lengths as propaganda and political manipulation and betraying allies to get what he wants(the greatest example of this being subverting control from Ozpin)

From this we know that Ironwood sees himself as this perfect savior that can do no wrong and should be the one in charge. While his views of the world being that everything is below him unless they match those of Atlas. With the stakes at the time being the possibility of losing imperial expansion and the threat of domination from a superior force that could shatter the foundations of his ideology and culture.

While Volume 7 Ironwood’s motivations being; whatever it takes to preserve his perfect and ideal society even if it means sacrificing everything else before his valued culture is destroyed.

The values of this Ironwood definitely differ from previous versions of the character. As V7 Ironwood’s motivations have shifted from saving lives and defending them from Salem to preserving the very little bastion of control and authority that he has over Atlas. With the scale showing that he is willing to turn on allies and go as far as to abandon a whole heavily populated city and potentially the rest of the world in order to preserve the one thing that he has complete and unconditional control over.

Because of this a lot of Ironwood’s views have changed by the end of V7.

Due to his streak of recent failures his views of himself changed from being the perfect leader that he thought he was, to accepting reality that he isn’t said leader and is prone to failure. However because of that thinking he no longer feels that he should hold himself to that set standard anymore and do what he thinks is needed to get his desired results. Which leads to the fact that he still views himself as the one that should be in charge but this time he does not feel compelled to be fair or considerate of either allies or people.

His views of the world really haven’t changed as much. He is just more honest, open and direct about his views by V7’s end where it's pretty clear that he values his military industrial complex that is Atlas over people's lives regardless of their affiliation.(It should be noted that Mantle is still apart of the Kingdom of Atlas as a whole so consider the fact that he is abandoning the part of it he deems is an acceptable loss without even trying to save it)

But the greatest and significant of changes for Ironwood in the plot are the stakes. Prior to being told the truth about Salem’s immortality he honestly thought that he could win and kill her and be free to pursue whatever task he could set his mind to now that she was gone. After being told and with the clear indication that his power(Atlas) was at risk he essentially is doing what raven did; cut his losses and settle with what he has and run. As such the stakes for Ironwood at this point are to preserve the very little power and control that he has currently at his disposal and sacrifice and do whatever he can’t to maintain it even if it means letting the rest of the world die or be under Salem's control.

This is just speculation but Ironwood’s chances for redemption are pretty slim but not impossible. But the key start and major factors to make that redemption possible is for him to yield power and let go of Atlas. As I stated before, Ironwood relies heavily on his control over Atlas as he believes it to be the only means to maintain and sustain a war as well as the only way of enforcing his authority. To reiterate Ironwood true power and relevance to the story is his complete and unchallenged command over the Kingdom of Atlas and at the risk of sounding cliche; “All who obtain power are afraid to lose it even a hero” If there is to be any hope of defeating Salem and or maintaining peace in Remnant it can not happen with Ironwood being in power. Which may be more difficult than it seems which leads us to the possibility that he may not be redeemed and should he live past the Salem conflict with this type of thinking.

A New Enemy

For a character to be redeemed the character needs to want change for better but given his personality and recent events Ironwood at this point doesn’t feel or believe that he should change as he now has an ends justify the means mentality with the belief that he is this grand savior believing his way is the only way. Because of this it is very likely that he may stay an antagonist throughout the remainder of the series and possibly long after the main conflict.

The Third Faction; Okay I think it's a safe bet to say that no matter what Atlas was always going to be an antagonistic force that was being set up as early as V1. And unfortunately for Ironwood he ended up being the face and voice of said force that was there before he was ever given a name or a design.

Because of this setup it is possible that Atlas under Ironwood will become its own faction that may try to counter salem but at the same time will possibly sabotage the allies aka the main heroes and the rest of remnant since Ironwood’s paranoia has increased to the point that he doesn’t trust anyone anymore and most likely will reject any offer of aid or promise of an alliance since Ironwood believes his in own hype that much that he will eventually become a problem that has to be stopped which will possibly lead to the end of Atlas. Which brings us to what might happen to the character post Salem and Atlas.

Post Salem Insurgency; This is speculation but it's possible that after Salem is defeated and Atlas is destroyed he would continue to be a threat for the rest of Remnant as he will be forced to answer for war crimes and step down from power with the possibility that he may never obtain it again.

Given what we know of his personality Ironwood isn’t the type of guy to yield power or think he did anything wrong due to his ends justify the means montra. As such in the years following Salem's defeat and the possibility that Atlas may no longer exist or at the very least no longer subservient to Ironwood’s authority its most likely that he might end up in charge of a paramilitary consisting of the very few soldiers that are still loyal to him and start raiding and terrorizing settlements, cities and kingdoms all over remnant just to rebuild his military complex and infrastructure as a means to reclaim the status and power that he was stripped up.

How and why any of this would happen if it ever does is debatable but should it come to be Ironwood is going to need to compensate in order to survive if he becomes a legitimate threat which brings us to a very likely scenario based on his original inspiration

Full Cyber

Given what happened near the end of V7 and recent V8 concept renders combined with the Tin-man inspiration I do believe that there is a very likely scenario that Ironwood will be more machine than man at some point in the series assuming he doesn’t die yet. This is pretty much a given scenario due to his favoritism for machines than people and his new found ideology that humanity is weakness now it is very likely when given the chance that Ironwood will willingly become full cybernetic(Possibly to the point of just simply being a brain in a new metal body)

While this isn’t exactly an ideal outcome for the character but at the same time this would actually make Ironwood a credible threat as he would now be able to enforce his authority on his own now without relying on others to do it for him. Based on the research from the I am power post Ironwood is relatively a very weak character in comparison to a majority of other characters that we have seen so far and this is especially true when compared to the villains and main heroes. One key aspect to remember is that Remnant didn’t need the military only Ironwood did because on his own he’s screwed no matter what the situation.

Ironwood relies to heavily on his Army as it is the only thing that gives him some ambiance of a fighting chance but ultimately he is very ill suited to lead and manage said army that when you think of it are possibly full of people that are probably more capable than him as well as able to back up and defend their position of power on their own. Whereas Ironwood can not if he were to be overthrown by the military. In other words a fully cyberized Ironwood would actually be beneficial for him as it would make him a formidable threat beyond just simply being the guy who has the world's only military. Depending on what kind of enhancements he can get he would at least be on par with characters like Ruby Qrow and Yang and at the very best on the level of pre maiden Penny. Because as he is right now Ironwood would surely die if he were to face any character that is not within his capabilities. But this is my theory and observations but until we see more Ironwood’s best bet is going full cyber.

Role in the narrative & what we can learn from Ironwood

To start I think it's pretty clear that Ironwood in narrative is just a foil for most of the characters in the show. Especially with greater comparisons and emphasis on these 3 characters; Ozpin Ruby & Salem. While at the same time he is also the character representation that embodies Atlas the most and as such much about what we know and learned about Atlas is mostly due to Ironwood’s actions as he is the culmination and development of Atlasian culture. Unfortunately though this as far as his character was ever going to go. Which makes it all the more tragic and sad when you think about the role that he was supposed to serve.

We will first be breaking down each Foil comparison between Ironwood and the 3 prominent characters to plot as to better under his place in the narrative.

Ozpin

Of all the characters that exist in the RWBY story I do believe that Ironwood tried to emulate and be his own version of Ozpin(or any past incarnation). However unlike Ozpin Ironwood is biased, lacks actual experience and above all takes shortcuts to get faster results at the expense of others. I know that this mostly stems from good intentions but what exactly qualifies Ironwood to even think that he should be the one in charge to handle this Salem conflict. This is one of the greatest problems that is addressed in the show about Ironwood. He really believes that it's his destiny to lead by replacing Ozpin and win.

But I ask again; What exactly can Ironwood do that would qualify him to even be worthy to take up Ozpin’s task?

That's just it really, there is nothing about him to warrant such a thing. When it comes to the foils between the 2 it's about being this Big Good character that should lead and the themes of Grey morality that R.T. has tried to implement into the show. But when it comes down to it Ozpin is the true Big Good while Ironwood was simply a pretender. Ironwood has always been a narrowed focused character that cares about the conflict itself instead of the people that are caught in the crossfire. And unlike Ozpin who has based all of his decisions and plans from experience and human nature, Ironwood had based his for a need to simply be right and in control.

In short Ironwood had wanted to be the next Oz as he believed he was more suited to do what Ozpin couldn’t even though he lacked the skills, experience, and power to do so which brings us to the next foil.

Ruby Rose

This might be stretching a bit but when it comes to the plot there is no greater foil between characters than who is the real hero of the story. In this case is the hero of the series Ironwood or Ruby? To help answer this inquiry we need to know what exactly a hero is. Webster's dictionary defines a hero as a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent, endowed with great strength or ability.

While other sources would say what qualifies A hero can be as simple as a person that saves lives and stuff, but a hero can be anyone that does something they have fear of but are brave enough to still do something. Bravery is usually the biggest trait of any hero. This person has usually overcomes huge obstacles to survive or to rescue others.

A hero is selfless, a genuinely good person, and someone gets the undivided attention of all of us and causes change.

A hero takes action to help others at considerable risk to themselves, however, if that action also helps themselves, then they are not a hero because they are acting out of self-interest. Courage is admirable, but unless it involves risk or sacrifice in order to help others, then it isn't heroism.

So in short the true hero of the series is actually Ruby not Ironwood or any other character in the series. Not because she is one of the main characters or because this is a story from her perspective but because she has the ideal and pragmatic skills and abilities needed to handle the current situation of the plot as well as doing what Ironwood has failed to do himself confront fear and be brave. As I stated in paranoia over reason most if not all of his choices have been based on fear rather than actual logic, reason, or bravery. Which is further highlighted by facts discussed in I am power that Ironwood is really nothing without the military and doesn’t stand a chance on his own.

This is indefinitely a stark contrast to ruby as she has proven since her introduction to be capable of handling the threat of Salem as she has the talents skills abilities power and above all the spark that inspires others that compels them to do great things for the right reasons which Ironwood failed to do as all of his action have had a certain goal that would only benefit a certain few with him being the one who would benefit the most. This is mostly due to how the 2 have responded and chose to handle the situation.

When it comes down to it the main plot is defeating monsters that dominate the world who happen to have a leader controlling them. Remember the whole reason why Salem is even a credible threat is because she can control said monsters and the first premise before she came on screen for the first time was learning how to fight grimm. This is something that Ruby was training and preparing for since she was a kid with the added bonus of having the powers needed to handle the situation with ease while Ironwood has only been preparing for a war with other people rather than monsters and crush rebellions rather than being a guardian peacekeeper that Oz meant for him to be.

Because of this Ironwood has contributed more to the problem more so than Ruby did as his actions were done in favor of Atlas and his own self interests were as Ruby makes honest mistakes out of ignorance and optimism. Which brings me to the next foil that Ironwood shares more qualities with than anyone else

Salem

I know I'm going to get a lot of heat for this but if you think about it Ironwood is basically a syfy dictator version of Salem’s fantasy dark lord. Face value it doesn’t seem likely but given what we know about their current lore, history, personally, and world building these two can be twins to some extent. The examples are as followed;

They’re both headstrong and blunt individuals who go too far in their endeavors when simple and easier solutions were present

They’re both isolated however Salem is isolated by circumstance and force while Ironwood is isolated by choice and paranoia which is ironically the results of their cold upbringing and history

They both lead organizations with questionable intentions that border on dark and immoral with goals that are based on self entitlement rather than rightfully justified or earned

And to top it off they essentially command armies of soulless killing machines

From these examples we have plenty of foils between the two with them being pride, isolation, tragedy, authority and probably the most important foil in regards to the plot War & Conflict. However when it comes down to it Ironwood is on the short end of these foils when compared to Salem.

In terms of tragedy these two have let their past misfortunes dictate and influence their decisions resulting in a sense of entitlement that they have been wronged now the world has to compensate them for things to be right. For Salem she had a cruel upbringing for unknown reasons and life being unfairly cruel while Ironwood was lifely forced into servitude and was never really himself as he wanted to be. Salem’s tragedies are the result of grief and dealing with forces that she couldn’t comprehend. While Ironwood’s is the result of unchecked ambition and ignorance.

Similar to Oz, Salem has more experience being a leader that can exert their authority and will over others while Ironwood lacks the experience and therefore can’t do the same. The Grimm under Salem’s command are more of an oppressed hivemind that she leads with little to no resistance unlike her human subordinates. Thus Salem has more direct control and authority over those she commands and has the abilities necessary to keep them in line with her goals. While the people under Ironwood’s authority have a voice and mind of their own that don’t align with his ideas. Due to this he isn’t much of a respected leader as he thought he was. Because of this Ironwood is mostly kept in power by rules and regulations with everyone blindly following suit.

As for war Ironwood was without a doubt unprepared for it. This is mostly due to 4 reasons;

He had no idea of what he was doing

His opponents are of better a quality than anything he can make or round up

He was preparing for the wrong war that should never have come to pass.

He was to prideful and sure of himself that nothing can go wrong

When it comes to the 1st reason Ironwood was more or less a pseudo soldier in a time where militaries are pretty much obsolete. This is because militaries are used as power projection of a nation and convey the message to another nation to not cross them. Due to the timing there was no real reason or excuse to justify having a military during a point in time where people are more interested in developing a culture and living life rather than fighting in needless conflicts. As such there was no practical reason, competition, or threat to justify Ironwood’s demands for a large military when he came to power or ensure that it was of a better quality than whatever hypothetical enemy that he would face.

Salem on the other hand has had experience commanding armies before and probably has instigated several wars and conflicts prior to the founding of the current 4 kingdoms thus Salem would have at least accumulated centuries to millenniums of war experience that surpass Ironwood’s brief 30 years of service in the Atlas military. Given that Salem was already a crafty and manipulative person during a time when gods were still around, she most likely would have seen the mistakes and flaws that Ironwood has made and exploited them.

Leading into the 2nd reason Ironwood was pretty much in command of a terrible military. As stated in the 1st reason there was no real threat or competition that encouraged those in power besides Ironwood to remilterze. As well as the current military most likely being filled with people who don’t want to fight a war and most likely enlisted for economic reasons. Because of this and his paranoia Ironwood had to find a surrogate army to prepare for his war that in his mind could happen at any time. However this resulted in cheaply made Androids that can be assembled fast for quick deployment. Due to this Ironwood traded quality for quantity as not only was no one going to fight in his war but believed war was on its way soon. Out of misplaced desperation Ironwood hastily assembled a low quality army that never stood a chance.

In comparison to Salem’s main military force there aren’t that many differences. However the Grimm are slightly a better quality than what the Atlas military has to offer. This is mostly due to the fact that the Grimm are a semi sapient species that are capable of learning and adapting as well as possessing some level of self preservation with individual grimm being around longer than most of their kind becoming even more deadlier than them. While the androids that Atlas uses aren’t as they were made to be cheap and disposable and are mostly effective in large numbers.

The 3rd reason for why Salem is doing well during this conflict with Ironwood is mostly due to the General preparing for the wrong type of war than the war that he is actually fighting in. After all is said and done Ironwood has solely been preparing for a war with other people rather than for monsters. This is because the Atlas military before Ironwood took charge wasn’t meant to fight a war. Not all militaries are formed or created to defend the people. Atlas is the type of military that serves only in favor of the best interest of the state of government rather than the people.

Because of this Ironwood had spread misery and divided the people turning them into enemies. Salem would later take advantage of this division that Ironwood created as he was more focused preparing for war than managing the welfare of his citizens. This is speculation but most if not all of the weapons like penny and the Atlesian knights were solely made to fight human opponents as opposed to the grimm that Salem commanded. This is because Ironwood feared and distrusted people more than the monsters he fought.

The 4th and final reason why Ironwood never stood a chance is due to the fact that he believed in his own hype more than he should have. From key dialogues to certain character interactions and in universe lore Ironwood has always presented himself as this towering figure with unlimited power; A god among men so to speak. This shows us that ultimately Ironwood’s ego and pride have been inflated to the point that his overall common sense is non-existent. This is further explored and shown in the control tactics that he uses specifically these ones; Strength and Intimidation in Numbers;

Some aggressors like to dominate a situation by having a number of associates or friends present to support their position. The superior numbers alone may constitute an intimidating presence. They can also back each other up and challenge an individual in turn during a proceeding. In addition, they may also put pressure on a person to make a decision before they're ready. At worst, the strength in numbers tactic may be used for direct or indirect bullying or harassment.

Ironwood's overall strategy is simply sowing fear and doubt into an enemy that he doesn’t understand with large and unnecessary shows of power wasting resources to cover a wide variety of unknown enemies that pose a threat to him regardless if they are with Salem or not. This is best seen with the thousands to millions of cheaply made androids that are only effective in large numbers and the one ship of the line that was too big to be suited for warfare as they function as more of a forward operating base with their great size giving them the intimidation factor without other supporting fleet vessels like frigates or corvettes.(FYI by my count from V6 ep13 there were at least 41 of those ships hovering above Atlas doing nothing)

This is even confirmed by Ironwood in V3 ep3 where he claims this to be the case with this line of dialogue;

“The people of Vale needed someone to protect them, someone who would act. When they look to the sky and see my fleet, they feel safe, and our enemies will feel our strength.”

This sort of tactic would probably have been useful if it was applied in a conventional warfare plot with people being his opponent as this is a real life tactic used in militaries and the navy especially in the modern era. The problem however is that the plot isn’t about conventional warfare nor is it a battle between people but with monsters where these tactics are meaningless to them. These tactics are ineffective when compared to Salem’s psychological hit & run terror tactic being used in a setting like RWBY’s are quite effective and more useful than anything Ironwood can come up with. Even though they rely on opportunity and time to become a practical threat the end result is a huge payoff to the one who applied them with that being Salem.

To sum it up when it comes to the foils of war between these 2 characters all you really need is the right tactic, strategy or plan and everything falls into place regardless of whether you have an army or a handful of misfits all it takes is careful thought and patience something of which Ironwood has shown to be lacking.

In conclusion what we learn from these foils are Leadership, Heroism, and War and how no matter what Ironwood was always on the short end of these traits and was never going to reach his ideal scenario for each of these ideas as he had set high expectations that were well above his capabilities and now he’s paying the price.

The Atlas Meta Narrative’s influence on Ironwood

Based on my research and what I have stated before; the greatest source of Ironwood’s flaws and antagonism is largely due to the influences of his home kingdom; Atlas.

Just like Ironwood Atlas is also a foil setting and culture to the other kingdoms and the rest of Remnant. The reasoning for this is best explored in the established lore and other expanded material. To help better understand, here is a brief summarized history and development of the Kingdom of Atlas;

Before Atlas came to be it first started as Mantle who began as a group of desperate people trying to survive. Taking advantage of the cold climate of Solitas they were safe from the Grimm and had an unknown amount of time to develop both their technology and culture without restraint or interference. Eventually this progress was stalled due to a Grimm incident in Mantle that forced the current leaders of the kingdom to make radical and unnecessary regulations that suppress basic human emotions and rights instead of putting the effort to protect the people.

When the Great war started Mantle joined only to ensure that its like minded imperialist ally Mistral would supply them the resources needed to survive. Because of this and the extreme measures they enforced on their citizens to control them prior to the war Mantle was most likely considered the most evilest faction during the war. When the war came to an end with Mantle suffering an embarrassing defeat it led to an age of cultural segregation and discrimination upon Mantle in the post war era.

Following the war Mantle entered an age of isolation and economic depression due to distrust and suspicion from the other kingdoms as they would only view them as this inherently evil and tyrannical force that can’t be trusted. Because of this the lingering scar of the toxic ideology of pre-war Mantle survived and is echoed in its spiritual successor; Atlas where it continued what Mantle couldn’t survive and thrive under the same core ideology that they had 80 years ago when they were still Mantle with only minor changes made to prevent the other kingdoms to intervene and possibly destroy their so called perfect culture.

After they lost a scar had remained and an echo was created that still lingers to the present. Due to cause and effect Atlas at its core was developed to be this amoral conservative xenophobic dystopia that was being led by corrupt individuals that were in pursuit of their own self-interests rather than serving their citizens and were kept in power by blind followers that couldn’t see their real intentions. As a result Atlas became a culture of exploitation, expansion, repression, and subjugation for the well being of the political entity that is the state at the expense of its people and others.

In relation to Ironwood as I stated before is a byproduct of this system and is simply one of a long line of blind followers that eventually supplanted the leadership and chose to continue the machine that is Atlas and replaced cogs needed to keep it running as he was once forced to do throughout his life because he doesn’t know of anything else.

Because of this upbringing and the history of his origins Ironwood was more or less viewed as indifferent in the eyes of his own people and evil in the eyes of others. Leading to a clash of beliefs within Ironwood that resulted in conflicts with others and the main meta narrative theme that we were meant to learn from him; The essence of Being.

The Essence of Being

Essence is defined as the core nature or most important qualities of a person or thing. Essentially the narrative lesson that we can learn from Ironwood is the age old lesson that has been echoed from R.T. longest running series but with a more individual focus. That's right, Ironwood's journey and arc in the story is an inverse and modification of the classic RVB question; “Do you ever wonder why we're Here.”

But in the case of Ironwood it's more focused on an individual person asking and the age old question of Why am I here and what is my purpose and how do they justify and understand it.

As I stated before Ironwood was simply the wrong character in a different genre from a writing and story perspective. But in universe from the perspective of Ironwood it's simply a matter of him asking; “Why am I alive and here, and why am I this instead of that in a world like this?” At some point everyone questions the reality and circumstances of their situation and it's probably common questioning on a world, setting, and reality like Remnant. For Ironwood it’s possible that he’s asked these questions more than anyone. As for the reasons why he would question his existence go as follow;

Why was I born in Atlas?

How do I prove I'm good when others think I’m evil by proxy?

Why I’m I so weak when compared to more skilled & powerful people?

Why was I made to be reliant on others that can’t rely on themselves?

I’m I respected only for the rank or the man?

Does anyone really care about me or I’m I being used by sycophants?

Will anyone care when I’m gone?

Why won’t anyone give me a chance?

How do I justify and understand the reasons why I'm here?

Does any of this matter in the end?

The core of Ironwood’s journey, actions, motives, and story wasn’t about saving the world, the balance of grey morality of people, or even the preservation of a certain culture, but instead is about cementing a legacy to escape the harsh reality that everything we do will eventually be undone. It's such a freighting thing to fall but is even more freighting is to admit it

In a way Ironwood's story is somewhat relevant to this line from Monty Oum in regards to immortality; “The goal isn't to live on forever; it's to make something that does.” CRWBY has even stated that Ironwood is a forward thinking individual/ A dreamer if you would. Because of this Ironwood was more focused on where he was heading rather than focus on where he was and what he was doing Causing a lot of problems to happen and escalating events to the point that we see them in the shows present. This oversight and negligence is because he continued to believe that, like everything else in his life, it would be righted by the sheer force of his will.

But sadly he is just only one man put on the world for a brief moment of time that is rather minuscule and insignificant on a cosmic and meta level. Everything changes and legacies are either forgotten or are repeated. In the end time and death are the ultimate victors as they undo everything and the cycle repeats itself for better or worse and individuals like Ironwood are just caught in the middle repeating and doing the same thing that has probably already happened and will probably happen again. All it takes is just a matter of time.

My Thoughts and conclusion

For the most part I was pretty much cautious when it came to the character and felt that he was more or less a side character trying to be a main one. The problem with that however in my thoughts is that well he doesn’t really have much to go on to warrant such a status. As well as how the plot has been structured Ironwood was never going to get what he wants. He may have had good intentions but at the end of the day he is only human with his own wants and needs.

Overall I do feel that his part in the story is over. Mostly because he tried to take the lead of it. Meta understanding aside Ironwood’s time is coming to an end and I hate to say it but it probably would be for the best. Not just everyone else in the show but for himself as well. As I stated Ironwood’s life is Sad because well it never was really his to begin with. It's illogical because he was ill equipped to be a part of the setting that he was in. His death is more than guaranteed because he has nothing left to contribute to the story that can’t be done by anyone else. At this point with the overall message of death in the show it would be mercy and relief for Ironwood as Death is not the worst thing that can happen to you.

I still hold hope though as I’ve come to understand and see why people are fascinated by his character. But for that hope to be possible Ironwood has to let go of Atlas as it has been the main source of conflict between him and everyone else.

Well that's it I’m done for now as this is an analysis of Pre V8 Ironwood and maybe after V8 I may add more research of V8 Ironwood and see how much i got right in the initial analysis. After doing this I hope to do an analysis on Qrow Branwen and other RWBY characters hopefully in a much shorter amount of time as opposed to the months it took me to do Ironwood.(then again this was my first character analysis) Until then be on the lookout for additional bonus content for Ironwood such as;

Character comparisons from fiction

Character comparisons IRL

How you can fight & Kill Ironwood

A more indepth look of his new cybernetics

What Ironwood should have done

His relationship with other characters

The possibility of an Ironwood spin-off

That's all for now. Let me know what you think and thank you all who helped made this analysis possible.

#rwby #rwby ironwood #james ironwood #general ironwood #rwby8 #rwby analysis #rwby theory #rwby thoughts #rwby atlas #rwby salem #rwby ozpin #rwby ruby rose #qrow branwen #rwby spoilers #rwby qrow #Ironwood analysis

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hajimeiwaswife · 3 years ago

Text

EGUZKILORE

Word count: 1,4K

Warnings: post time skip!Iwaizumi

Summary: Iwaizumi finds some strange items in his birthday.

'What an intriguing flower' Iwaizumi thought, looking at the sunflower-like plant in front of him. Entering his office at the training department of the Volleyball National Team of Japan, he found it on his desk, waiting for him with a little note under it.

"In the beginning of it all, everything was dark. Not a pinch of light could be appreciated among the darkness surrounding the atmosphere. Sorginak and creatures of the night used the lack of light to attack the people who lived in the area." read Iwaizumi, confused with the terminology and the story, "The townspeople, tired of the danger it supposed, took a stone each and went to Mari's cave in order to seek a solution. In exchange of the stones, Mari gave the people the Sun, protecting them from the evil creatures during the daytime. But it wasn't enough, as they continued to damage the towns at night."

Iwaizumi sought the rest of the story, curious as to what happened next. How did the townspeople survive the creatures at night? Who was Mari? What was a sorgina? He needed answers, but he also had to work, so he left the flower and the note in his desk again and left his office.

"Iwaizumi-san!" shouted an excited Shoyo, running to him in an eternal happiness and bouncing.

"Good morning!" continued Bokuto, following the ginger enthusiastic boy.

Like that, the rest of the team greeted him, he was loved and respected as their trainer, something he really appreciated, as he had worked hard to get where he was. In his 27 years of life his main motivation had been surpassing the annoying man he had for best friend, Oikawa Tōru; he was sure that team could make his dreams come true.

"Happy birthday, Hajime," suddenly said Shugo Meian, greeting the trainer and surprising both the players and Iwaizumi himself.

"Is it your birthday, Iwaizumi-san?" asked Shoyo, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yes, indeed."

"We should celebrate! Bokuto, bring the wine!" exclaimed Atsumu, forcing the white and black haired guy to follow his orders. Sakusa, who was observing everything from his usual corner, formed a scowl under his mask.

"Miya, we can't drink during practice." reasoned Ushijima, serious, and nodded at Iwaizumi, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you." returned the gesture Iwaizumi.

The morning continued like that; Atsumu tried to convince five different people to drink with him in 'Old Iwaizumi's honour', Shoyo and Kageyama challenged each other to see who was the best at guessing Iwaizumi's presents ―receiving a scold from Aran, who had to suffer their bickering since first hour in the morning―. Hajime was used to having to take care of men in their twenties as if they were his own children, but he had to admit it was draining to have to look after Bokuto so he didn't end up electrocuted, incited by Atsumu, needless to say.

During lunch break, Hajime returned to his office to get his meal, which was in a Tupper inside his working bag. He took it out and headed to the door so he could go to the canteen to heat it up. That was until he saw another flower, like the one in he had seen in the morning, attached to the wooden door. Surprised, he grabbed it and found another note.

"The townspeople decided to gather and go to Mari's cave again. With a stone each, they returned to the Goddess' dwelling and asked to be saved from the creatures that attacked when the sun faded in the horizon. Mari, who was benevolent, gifted the people the Moon, so they could be protected at night." 'Ah, that makes sense' thought Iwaizumi to himself, "It worked for some time, but the creatures got used to the light casted by the satellite and started causing trouble again. The disturbing laugh of the Sorginak didn't let the townspeople sleep, and again, they gathered."

Hajime turned the page, waiting to find the rest of the story, but there was nothing left for him to read. He sighed, he didn't know who was leaving those strange flowers and those notes in his office, but now he demanded answers and he wanted them in that exact moment. But how? The was no one there to continue the story, not a single soul. Frustrated, he went to the canteen as he had planned initially.

The rest of the day proceeded without events, just a couple of phone calls from his family and friends, the team's shenanigans and his pursue of the end of the story.

With a tired sigh, Iwaizumi returned to his office for the last time that day, he needed to pick up his belongings in order to go home a drink a beer as he had wished ever since he got up of bed. Just in case, he searched for a flower and a note, finding them on the top of his bag. The difference was that the only thing he saw was the plant, but no note. 'This must be a joke', thought Hajime to himself, seeking the note as a mad man.

"The townspeople grabbed a stone each again and returned, for the third time, to Mari's cave. They asked for help and the Goddess answered 'This is the last time I'll be helping you, my dearests'." Hajime turned immediately to find you at the door, smiling slightly as you talked.

He had seen you and talked to you before, you were the translator and interpreter of the National Team and of the MSBY. He had to admit he found you attractive and very interesting, but his busy schedule made it impossible for him to actually being able to think about inviting you to go for lunch with him someday.

"In that moment, Mari created a bright flower, one that could be mistaken for the sun itself. 'This flower will grant you the safety you seek at nights. The Eguzkilore will protect you'. Ever since, you can find an Eguzkilore at the door of every Basque house, seeking protection and light." you finished, walking to him nervously. "Happy birthday, Iwaizumi-san."

"Thank you," was the only think the athletic trainer could say after a minute of silence. He was still processing what had just happened.

"Um, the flowers are for you," you fidgeted, nipping at your lower lip, "I gave you three for you front door at your house, another for this door and the third for, eh," you coughed, feeling his intense gaze on you as you talked "for your car. I hope you like it."

Silence reigned in the room again, the only sound that could be heard was Shoyo's and Bokuto's shouting from across the gym. Hajime looked between you and the three flowers in awe, wondering what to say so he didn't mess up and make you think he wasn't grateful for such a thoughtful ―and unusual― present.

"Do you, uh, wait no, not that," he started, trying to form a coherent sentence, "How do you know this story? Where does it come from?" he asked quickly.

"Oh, that," you nodded, taking a deep breath, "Well, I read about it a couple years ago, I found it cute and endearing how the Basque culture explained the, uh, you know, the existence of the sun and the moon. And I thought that maybe ―not that you have to―, but maybe you could... like it? I guess." you awkwardly stated, looking at everything but him, warmth overtaking your features.

Hajime nodded again, smiling slightly at your nervousness, he thought it was cute. He also thought it was thoughtful from your part to get him a present for his birthday, and decided in that moment, in mere seconds, his next move.

"Maybe you can tell me more about his Basque stories?" he asked, nonchalant, "We could go for a drink and, yeah, talk about them?"

You thought about it for a second, your crush was asking you on an informal date after you acted in, what you thought, was the creepiest you had ever acted. But he seemed to like it? Men were strange. You were glad, though, the meaning of the Eguzkilore was very beautiful and you wanted to share it with him.

"Yeas, why not? There are a couple more I could tell you."

"Settled, then. C'mon, I have my car parked near the entrance."

Like that, the both of you exited the gym in a comfortable silence, Iwaizumi keeping one of the Eguzkilores in his hands so he could place it in his car. You were thrilling, it actually stood out in a very original way. You looked up at him and he smiled at you in a breath-taking way, causing your hands to tremble in excitement: you were going to get some drinks with Iwaizumi Hajime!

"I have a question, though, what's a so-, sor, sorgina?"

NOTES:

Eguzkilore is composed by "Eguzki" = "Sun"; "Lore" = "Flower". It comes from the Basque, the most ancient culture and language in Europe.

Sorgina: it could be the equivalent to what we know as "witches". They are described as Mari's assistants, they are usually good, but sometimes are described as "disturbing". They were part of the Akelarres.

Mari: the main goddess of the Basques. To contact with her you have to leave a stone at her cave.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu!!#iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi #haikyuu x y/n #hajime iwaizumi birthday #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader

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judediangelo75 · 3 years ago

Text

Claws To Wings

Welcome one and all~

I did say I was going to be working on the Talith lore, so here’s another installment of that. So I did some tweaking to the storyline that Jam City had. So the first Valentine’s Day happened in 4th year instead of 5th (because you can unlock I think both Valentine’s Day TLSQs in the same year and it didn’t make too much sense to me).

Plus there are future true events that happen in 6th year, if you’re already familiar with the Without You/The Man Behind the Necklace series than you already know. During that time, Judith and Talbott are together and have been for quite some time. But before that, they have been pining after each other for years.

In my first story, “The Scent of Love to the Heart of a Loner Poet”, Talbott is coming to realizing how deep his feelings were for Judith (whose been crushing on him since 3rd year). Between then and now, those feelings have grown and they’ve been dancing around each other.

There’s gonna be some details here that are definitely gonna be new (because it’s part of a super old character reference I created for her when I first started posting about HPHM content here).

Anyway, enough rambling. On with the story! Enjoy! 💛

MC friend: David Willows ( @that-scouse-wizard )

---------------------

Talbott stood before his mirror, readjusting his tie for probably the fifth time.

He was trying to soothe his nerves. Why you may ask?

Because of the Ball.

The Valentine’s Day Ball.

In his right mind, he would avoid such social gatherings like the plague. But it’s fair to say he hasn’t been much of his right mind ever since he met her.

Judith Harris.

A Hufflepuff witch with pale gold eyes and a heart of gold to match.

He met her alongside her best friend, David Willows, early third year. When they came to him seeking help on becoming Animagi. He was quick to shut both of them down. While David glared and protested, Judith eased the bullheaded Hufflepuff and gave him a shy sad expression along with an apology for disturbing him.

At the time, he wasn’t sure why he suddenly changed his mind to help the two. But as he got older, he did realize it was because of her.

Something about Judith was familiar. And…

He didn’t like the sad look into those bright eyes…

After the two achieved their forms and helped him find his feather necklace, Judith and Talbott became closer. Even to the point where he followed her out to the cemetery and learned about her dead father, Kendrick, on the anniversary of his death.

That’s when he learned that she was a part of his past.

That single day of his childhood where he made a friend. And developed a bond on a girl who he thought was unique with her long pretty locs and Caribbean accent.

With it being their 5th year, Talbott has gone on two dates with her. Their very first date out by the Black Lake and last year on Valentine’s Day when he learned that he has deeper feelings for her outside of a friendship.

He can still remember the sweet blush on her face after he shyly gave her a kiss on the cheek after gifting her with a heart statue.

Giving her a physical representation of his heart.

He fiddled with the ring she gifted him that day. He always remembers seeing it on a black chain around her neck on occasion. Judith was a person who cares about sentimental value so it’s very likely she gifted him something that has a level importance to her. But he was so stunned when she slipped it onto his finger, and that it fitted perfectly, while announcing that it was her Valentine’s Day gift to him that he forgot to ask…

Maybe today he will. After all, after the Ball, he had a special surprise for her.

Of course, there had to be some last minute changes when he realized a certain Slytherin witch ALSO planned on using the Library and two fairies also got into a squabble. He had at least a day to make the arrangement work and the “Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts” actually might of done him a favor.

It would be nice to revisit where their tale began.

Talbott sighed, looking over his appearance once more before turning on his heel and leaving his room.

‘I hope she likes what I planned. She’s the only who deserves to see this side of me,’ he thought as he made his way to the Great Hall.

——————

“C’mon Little Tigress! We’re gonna be late,” David huffed, knocking insistently on his best mate’s door.

“I look ridiculous! I’m not going anymore!” Came the stubborn reply from the other side. David rolled his eyes at Judith’s behavior.

They’ve been busting their asses to save the Valentine’s Day Ball from a lonely Madam Pince by using a pining Mr. Filch. However, due to all the planning and finally asking out Merula and Talbott (after Judith finally got over her initial shyness), they didn’t have time to style an outfit for themselves. So they went to the resident Style Wizard for help.

David’s pick was easy.

Judith however… not so much.

It was fair to say that Judith was more than disgruntled as she looked in the reflection for the suit Andre put together.

“You lost your damn mind Egwu if you think I’m going to the Ball like this. I look like a mom in her mid-30s looking to speak to your manager to file a complaint.”

David was on the floor in tears when he saw the offended look on the Ravenclaw wizard’s face. To be fair, the suit plus the pixie cut that Andre magically put together wasn’t doing his best mate any favors.

However, she didn’t step out to show the dress to them. She tried it on, switch back into her normal clothes, and left without much of another word.

Now David was curious to what could be wrong with Andre’s design for her to believe she looked “ridiculous”.

“C’mon Judith. What’s wrong with it? Surely it can’t be as bad as that suit Andre design,” David coaxed.

“…It’s… a lot…” David wasn’t sure what to make of that and they’re gonna be late if Judith kept this up.

“Judith, it’s either you open the door willingly to show me what you’re talking about or I break into your room to see for myself. We don’t have time for this right now,” David huffed. He didn’t want to late with for his dance with Merula.

Silence ensued and David was half considering going through with his threat when the tell tale sound of the door unlocking hit his eyes. David turned the knob and walked in.

He paused when he took in the sight of his little friend.

Judith was wearing a short black dress decorated with pink and red roses. A small slit can be found on her right leg. White 3-inch open toe heels were on her feet. Her usual ear accessories and earrings were present. A familiar dark red lipstick, dark eyeshadow, and black eyeliner made an appearance on her face. Her hair was out from its normal twists, curls and coils tumbling down her back and a bang swept over her right eye.

“David,” Judith mumbled awkwardly as her friend stared at her. That seemed to have broke the spell on the wizard as he shook his head to recollect himself.

“Well I’ll be damned… you look far from ridiculous, Judith. You look beautiful,” David said with a smile. Judith blushed and rubbed the back of her neck.

“You sure? It’s kind of revealing, don’t you think,” she asked. David cocked his head to the side, rescanning the girl from head to toe.

He could see her point, but it wasn’t as bad she probably thought it was.

The dress fitted her like glove, revealing the curves she was developing as a young woman. While the dress did show quite a bit of skin, it was still respectable.

“No, not really. To Bill and Orion, possibly but they’re big brothers who naturally want to keep every perverted wizard away from you. Hell, I may end up breaking someone’s teeth in if they think they can disrespect you like that. But you look beautiful Little Tigress, don’t think otherwise. Talbott would definitely agree with me,” David stated, watching his fellow Hufflepuff blushed at the name of the boy she’s been crushing on since third year.

David has been watching the two dance around each other since Judith admitted that she fancied the Ravenclaw wizard in the Charms classroom when practicing the Memory Charm. He was waiting for the two to finally get together already.

“If you’re done worrying, we still have a Ball to get to,” David said with a raised brow.

“But-EEP!” David already saw the protest in her eyes was quick to walk across the room and throw Judith over his shoulder. He only resorted to such measures when she was be difficult, and she was definitely being difficult.

“C’mon Little Tigress, your bird boy is waiting for you,” he said as he made his way out of her room. Judith spluttered over her words, mainly out of embarrassment at both what he said and the unnecessary position David has put her in.

“DAVID! Put me down, you brute! I’m in a dress for Merlin’s sake,” she protested loudly, wriggling in David’s unforgiving grip.

‘Damn demon lineage...’ she thought with a grimace.

“I'm well aware, we can clean you up when we're there with a spell, I not missing my chance to dance with Merula,” David said breezily. Judith gave up, allowing herself to be carried off like a sack of potatoes.

“Bloody sap... stupid dance,” she grumbled under her breath. David chuckled at her disgruntled mood.

“You’ll thank me for it by the end of the night, trust me,” he said. Judith pouted.

‘Assuming I don’t hide in a dark corner somewhere first...’

“Do that and I'm casting Lumos Maxima so there's nowhere for you to hide,” David said suddenly, nearly scaring the girl half to death. Judith mentally slapped her forehead out of exasperation.

She should know better not to think aloud around David, seeing how they’re both Legilmens.

Damn it...

“Fine,” she huffed. Luckily for her, they finally arrived near the entrance of the Great Hall. David finally set her down, and casting a spell that made her look presentable again.

David offered his arm to her.

“Shall we, Little Tigress?” Judith felt her cheeks heating up at the thought of the person waiting on her inside the Great Hall before letting out a sigh. She took her best mate’s arm.

“I guess we shall...”

-----------------------

Talbott was chatting alongside with Merula, twirling a red rose between his hands when he heard a whistle. Both turned to make out the figures of their dates not too far from them.

David separated himself from his fellow Hufflepuff to walk up to the two. David gave Talbott a smirk and nodded over in Judith’s direction before stealing Merula away.

Talbott only raised a brow at the Hufflepuff wizard’s behavior before walking up to his date for the night. As he stood in front of her, any words that he was going to say to her, died at the tip of his tongue.

Talbott stared at his date, heart racing with a blush on the high points of his cheekbones as he looked at her from her curls to her high heeled shoes. The silence was starting to unnerve the Hufflepuff witch as her long time love interest stared at her without saying anything.

“Y-you clean up quite nicely, Talbott,” she blurted. She mentally smack herself immediately afterwards.

‘When did I become this awkward, goodness…’

However, seem to have done the trick and snapped Talbott back to reality.

“S-sorry, little bird. I-I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I-It’s just that…” Talbott shook his head, trying to focus.

“It’s just that,” Judith echoed slowly, biting her bottom lip. She was worried that David might’ve been wrong and she looked like a fool in front of the boy she had feelings for.

Talbott stepped closer to her, tilting her head up by her chin so she could look at him. He offered a shy smile.

“You look beautiful, Judith. More lovely and temperate than a summer’s day,” He said softly, placing the rose he had behind her left ear. Judith blushed as she felt her heart race at his barely there touch.

“I-I… thank you, Talbott…” The Ravenclaw wizard smiled at the shy response. Behind them the instruments started seemed to be warming up to play the first song.

“May I have this dance,” Talbott asked, mock bowing to the girl. Judith giggled behind a red manicured hand.

“You may…” Taking her hand Talbott led Judith close to the center of the dance floor, with David and Merula standing not too far from them. The fairies that were lighting up the room swirled around the students, leaving them in awe at the magical moment. In the midst of this, David gave his friend a wink, who in turned returned it with an unimpressed glare. Judith returned her attention back to her date once she felt him take one of her hands

“I’m not usually one who likes public displays, but… I quite like this one… almost as much as I like you,” Talbott quietly admitted as he looked into pale gold eyes.

‘Is it possibly to pass out from blushing so much? Because I think I’m close…’ Judith thought as she ducked her head with a smile. Talbott was being so sweet and kind to her, she wanted to be wrapped up in his arms and dance the night away.

Judith looked back up at him with a teasing grin.

“I hope you like dancing too, because it’s our time to shine…”

————————

Talbott was smiling at the laughing girl in his arms as he spun her around. The two have been in their own little bubble ever since the dance started.

Their shy exteriors melted away leaving behind something much warmer and intimate. Anyone with eyes can see that they were clearly smitten with each other. Which were plenty watching them on occasion.

Red eyes darted around the Great Hall, finding the person he was looking for. He gave the Headmaster a subtle nod which he returned with a knowing smile. Talbott stepped back from Judith to clear his throat with a smile.

“All this dancing is making me thirsty, I think I’m gonna get a refreshment,” he said. Judith smiled at him, making his heart stutter in a lovestruck sigh.

“A refreshment sounds great, actually! I’ll go with you-”

“N-no need! I-I’ll get one for you! Just... stay right there,” Talbott stuttered before taking off. Judith’s brows furrowed in confused as she watch Talbott disappear in the darkness.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw the cheery smile of David.

“Cheers, Little Tigress! I see that I was right about you enjoying yourself,” he said with a grin. Judith glared and punched his arm.

“Cheeky bastard,” she growled. David laughed good naturedly while rubbing his arm.

“I’m surprised you’re not with Synde. Seeing how eager you were to get here and be with her,” she retorted. David shrugged.

“Mer said she going to get refreshments for the both of us. She actually suggest I go find you to see how your night was so far,” David replied. Gold eyes narrow out of suspicion.

“That’s a little odd. Talbott just let to do the same thing...”

“Was it? I found it very typical of Miss Synde and Mr. Winger,” a third voice said. David and Judith turned to see the amused face of their Headmaster.

The pair chatted with Professor Dumbledore for a while when Judith noticed something was amiss.

“It’s bit awhile since Merula and Talbott went to get refreshments. Surely it can’t take that long,” Judith pondered out loud. Dumbledore smiled.

“Clever eye, Miss Harris. That’s because they’re no longer here and they personally asked me to distract you,” he chuckled. David and Judith glanced at each other before looking back up at Dumbledore.

“Professor,” David asked warily. Dumbledore chuckled.

“Mr. Willows, you can head to the library. Miss Harris... while Mr. Winger wasn’t explicit with the location for you to go to, he did say ‘Remember our first date’ as a clue. Enjoy the rest of your storybook fairytale night, you two. You deserve it,” Professor Dumbledore informed the pair with a knowing smile.

Judith blushed walking out of the Great Hall with David. The two said their goodbyes as Judith made her way outside. Transforming into her Black Sparrowhawk, she couldn’t help but wonder what Talbott had planned at the Black Lake...

-----------------

Judith landed on the shore and transformed back, only to be surprised to find who was waiting for her.

“Lily,” she asked as the little fairy flew around her, buzzing out of excitement.

What was her little friend doing all the way out here?

The magical creature took ahold of her hand, tugging her to the Boat house.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming. Just slow down, I am wearing heels after all,” she laughed gently. Judith followed the excited fairy inside only to freeze at the door way.

Standing inside was Talbott. The place looked to have been cleaned out. Numerous fairies including her own lit up the Boathouse in a soft glow. Rose petals scattered the floor, along with some candles. A large heart made up of different colored roses was hung up behind the Ravenclaw wizard. A small table with some chairs of some of the food and drinks form the Ball sat in a corner. Somewhere in the background, there was soft music playing as well.

Talbott walked up to the stunned Hufflepuff witch and took her hand.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, little bird,” he spoke softly. Judith shook her head out of disbelief.

“W-what is all this, Talbott,” she asked. The young man bit his lip.

“I-I... I may have been planning this while I was at the Owlery... I wanted to surprise you. While I did originally plan to do this in the Library, someone else had the same idea... So I’d figured the Black Lake was the next best thing. I did have some help putting this together,” Talbott admitted.

Lily buzzed, as if she was giggling at the two. Judith rose a brow at her Fairy’s cheeky behavior before chuckling.

“I just thought that... after everything you’ve done for Hogwarts, for me, you deserved a storybook romance,” Talbott said. Judith rescanned the room before offering a smile.

“I had no idea that you could be such a romantic, Talbott. But clearly you are.” Talbott blushed, scratching the back of his neck.

“I guess all that poetry paid off...”

--------

The pair sat and ate, chatting in between. Talbott giving going as far to feed Judith a bit of a cupcake. He ended blushing when he felt her lips touch his fingers tips as she let out a pleased moan.

Currently they were slow dancing in the middle of the room, listening to the music softly playing in the background.

“This is really amazing, Talbott,” Judith spoke up, daring to look up at red eyes that reminded her of rubies.

“You’re the amazing one, Judith. I was simply following my heart,” Talbott replied, squeezing her closer. That foreign yet familiar scent that clung onto the Hufflepuff filled his nose.

“O-Oh stop it. I am not,” Judith insisted with a nervous laugh. Having Talbott so close to her was causing her heart to beat faster than normal. Talbott stopped dancing in favor of holding her hands. His gaze was unwavering.

“I mean it, little bird. You made this Valentine’s Day perfect for everyone, even Flich and Pince... And especially for me,” Talbott confessed. Pearly whites flashed at him.

“All I wanted was a magical Valentine’s Day with my date,” Judith started, glancing down for a quick moment to gather herself before looking back up at Talbott through her lashes.

“...And... And I’m so happy that date is you...” And she was. Truly.

Talbott was the picture perfect gentleman. And the fact he went through great lengths to make Valentine’s Day memorable for her reminded her of happier times from her childhood. Except now it was with someone who likes her for her.

She hasn’t felt this special in years...

Talbott urged his heart to calm down as he reached for his wand.

“I feel the same way, Judith. And I... made something for you...” Stepping back, Talbott casted a spell, causing a book to appear. Judith blinked out of surprise at the book that hovered between them. Carefully reaching for it, she opened it to a random page somewhere in the beginning.

“...The loner poet listened to the Howler professed the words he wasn’t aware that lived in his heart. Speaking of a deep longing for a girl with otherworldly pale gold eyes. To never leave him because when he looks into her unique irises, he can see future. A future where he would wake up to them every morning. A future where he would look at child with the same eyes as her. A future that would lead to forever together.

He felt his heart stall in his chest, itching to cast a spell to light the Howler ablaze to prevent its words being heard by unwanted ears. It was then he smelled her before he heard her.

A hint of sea breeze that made him feel like he was standing so close the never-ending ocean. Chocolate that reminded him of her skin tone. A variety of fainter sweet scents, most he couldn’t name but the one he could pick out was honey.

Her melodious low voice sung to his eardrums:

“Hey, what did your Valentine Howler say?” He swiftly turned to find pale gold eyes curiously looking up at him. He could feel his heart speed up when he connected the dots.

It was her.

She was the one his heart longed for.

Everything that has transpired that day and this revelation became too much for the loner poet to take. He was quick to deny that his Howler hasn’t said anything, using the opportunity their teacher has created to leave the classroom.

He needed time. Time to think of what to do next...”

Judith was so engrossed in words written on the page that she didn’t realize that Talbott was now standing behind her.

“It’s not finished, more so of a... work in progress for an ongoing story...” Judith jumped a little when she felt his breath ghost over her visible ear.

“This is about you,” she whispered, releasing the book to float again. She turned to find Talbott staring down at her with half lid eyes.

“It’s about you and me, little bird,” he whispered, cupping one of her cheeks. Judith closed her eyes, leaning into his warm touch.

There was a shift in the air and she nervous but secretly excited to where this could lead...

Talbott withdrew for a moment forcing Judith to open her eyes again. She notice a heart shaped key necklace in his hand.

“What’s that,” she asked quietly.

“This is the key that unlocks the book. I made it be this way so you can wear it like a necklace. So our story would always be with you,” Talbott answered, carefully placing the it around her neck. A full body shiver raked Judith’s body when she felt the tips of his finger ghost over the sensitive skin.

“I... I never had someone put this much effort for me. To bare your feelings like this, Talbott... I... I don’t know what to say,” Judith confessed quietly. She could barely hear her own voice over the roar of blood rushing to her face combined with the sound of her heartbeat pounding against her eardrums.

Talbott caressed her cheek again.

“I don’t expect an answer from you right away little bird. I’m more than happy to do this for you. You’re the only one who deserves to see this side of me...” Talbott leaned closer aiming to place a kiss on her cheek. Much like he did last year.

What Judith did next surprised both of them.

Turning her head ever so slightly, she caught Talbott’s lips with her own. This stunned the pair, both remaining motionlessly for a few moments. Just as the Ravenclaw wizard was about to pull back, Judith held him there by his tie, pressing against him. Her painted lips moved against his unresponsive ones slowly, testing the waters and his resolve.

After a moment of deliberation, Talbott gave in and returned the unexpected kiss. With one hand cupping her face, its twin finding refuge on her lower back, pushing her closer still. Judith released his tie in favor of wrapping her arms around his neck, melting in his embrace. Both of them were placed under a cloudy haze as their lips continued to move against one another.

The pair broke apart for air, foreheads resting against one another. Talbott silently licked his lips, picking up the taste of vanilla.

‘She tastes just as sweet as she looks. Good Gods help me...’ came the helpless thought as he found himself at the end of Judith’s sultry stare.

‘What are you doing to me, Talbott? Why do I feel this way towards you...’

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Talbott,” Judith whispered, placing a soft kiss against the corner of his lips. Talbott shivered at the sound of her voice, which has dipped down an octave. Her accent came out, loud and clear. His hands, which has migrated to her waist, squeezed down on the curve for a few seconds.

He could listen to her speak to him like this for hours...

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Judith... Thank you for being my valentine...” Judith let out soft chuckle, pulling him in for another kiss.

In the midst of this an involuntary thought passed through her mind. One which would shatter the Hufflepuff witch later on.

‘I love you, Talbott...’

-------------------

Some time has passed since the Valentine’s Day Ball. Judith more or less went back to her life as per usual.

With occasional outing with Talbott when classes and working for Rakepick became too much for her.

It was late at night and she was at the shore of the Black Lake, practicing her spellwork. She always wanted to remain sharp on her skills and it was a way for her to prepare for the upcoming O.W.L.S., which was approaching fast.

She decided to practice the Patronus Charm, seeing how she hasn’t casted it in awhile.

“Expecto Patronum!”

What came out of the tip of her wand shocked her.

Instead of her usual Siberian Tiger was a-

“G-Golden E-Eagle?!” Her eyes watched as the avian predator flew above her before disappearing.

She shocked her head, not believing what she just saw.

Over and over again, she casted the spell, waiting to see her beloved tiger. Only to watch the animal that came out soar its wings above her.

Her legs gave out from beneath her.

“No, no, no! How can this be happening?! Patronuses don’t change,” she panicked. A vague memory came resurfaced in her mind.

“Though I have heard of Patronuses changing forms after falling in love...” Judith’s eyes widen.

That voice belonged to Tonks when they were dealing with the Dementor threat from last year.

Another memory surfaced, however, much older...

“Gift this ring to the one your heart desires above all others. It will only fit and accept that one person, anyone else, it’ll reject and return to you...” Tears ran down her cheeks. When she realized what memory it was.

“Gran-Gran...” came the broken whisper. Her grandmother gifted her a magical blue and silver ring before she died. The same ring she gave to Talbott just a year prior. She didn’t remember her dear grandmother’s words when she gave it to him.

Now that she thought about it, the ring never returned to her. And it was on Talbott’s left ring finger the night of the Ball.

Even as she kissed him, those three words that haunted her since childhood has crossed her flowery dazed mind.

She couldn’t do anything but face the truth. To speak the words that haunted her in form of a Boggart from third year.

“I love Talbott Winger...”

And she was secretly terrified.

Because she knew if he were to confess the same, she was done for.

Her heart would be his.

And risk breaking if he were to ever leave...

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emy-loves-you · 3 years ago

Text

Have Your Name (And Your Back) Chapter 10

A Different Perspective

Patton wakes up and gets his godfather's perspective on magic.

Chapter 9 | Masterlist | Chapter 11

When Patton woke up for a second time, it was just after midnight.

Well, he’s pretty sure it’s for the second time. He doesn’t actually remember waking up the first time, just a dull hum of voices and a warm feeling in his chest. It might’ve just been a dream, dulled down to obscurity the moment he woke up. It didn’t really matter by this point. Patton was used to waking up in the middle of the night because Lady Hart wanted a snack or Lord Hart wanted a glass of brandy. Those nights were always a blur unless he was punished or if he was given an order that he needed to follow the next day. If there was something that he needed to remember, he would remember it as soon as he woke up.

Patton took a nice, deep breath before opening his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that someone had closed the curtains over his bed, giving him a sense of privacy and security. There was a small gap in the curtains, a small stream of moonlight peaking in and providing a small amount of illumination. He was still wearing his long gray t-shirt, and when he lifted the hem up all of his bruises seemed to be gone. He was about to get up when he realized that he was still holding his Fairy Godfather’s hand.

As soon as Patton realized that, Prince seemed to realize that Patton was awake. He magically parted the curtains with the flick of his wrist, still sitting in the same plush chair. Patton held back a wince in sympathy. He knew how painful it could be to sleep while sitting up - he’d been punished frequently for being caught asleep with a soapy sponge in hand - and with the way the chair was positioned, there was no way he could’ve leaned against the back of the chair and held Patton’s hand at the same time. That must’ve been an uncomfortable night. Did he even sleep last night?

Prince didn’t appear to be uncomfortable. In fact, he didn’t seem to be tired at all. He was wide eyed and alert, fretting silently and reminding Patton if the hens he would see fretting over their chicks. He waved his hands around Patton like he was wanting to touch him but didn’t want to startle him. That reminded Patton of the jester he had once seen when he was out at the market, waving their hands and jumping around. He imagined his godfather in a jester’s suit with makeup and a dangly hat with bells, and he couldn’t help but snort at the image.

That seemed to calm Prince down. The fairy chuckled nervously, putting his hand near Patton’s forehead but not actually touching him. Patton froze for a moment before leaning into the touch, smiling softly. They stayed like that for a few minutes, giving Patton a silent comfort that he hadn’t realized he needed. He was used to the cold silence of the Heart Manor, where any sounds were followed by dread and pain. After he moved into Prince’s manor, the silence around him always set him on edge. Sometimes he would keep the sink on and leave the bathroom door open so he could hear the rush of running water. When he was walking with Prince or reading about fae lore, he would hum random songs that he remembered hearing in the marketplace. Sometimes he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep for a while because the room was too quiet and dark.

But this silence was different. After he arrived at the manor, Patton had associated quiet with cold or pain. Either the physical chill and pain that he always felt deep in his bones, or the loneliness and fear that always seemed just around the corner. This silence, however, was different. Here, the chill was melted by the warm hand on his forehead. The loneliness was sated by the comforting presence of his fairy godfather. The pain was numbed by the knowledge that Prince cared, he cared enough to sit in the same spot for hours, just so Patton could feel safe. It was the type of silence that made the flame in his chest get just a little warmer, a little brighter. It made him wish, for the first time in a while, that the silence would never end.

However, the silence was inevitably broken when Prince spoke softly. “It’s good to see you awake, child. You gave me quite the fright.”

Patton felt that flicker of warmth in his chest return when Prince called him ‘child’ but he squashed it down. Prince is just calling Patton a child, because he technically is one. It doesn’t mean anything. He doesn’t view Patton as his child. He would probably stop calling Patton ‘child’ if he knew how it made him feel. Besides, there was a much more concerning part of what Prince said. “What do you mean?”

His Fairy Godfather sighed and ran a hand through Patton’s hair. “You were asleep for nearly three days, Heart. I was starting to worry that the nosebleed I had given you was actually fatal and you would never wake up.”

He gasped. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to sleep for that long and-” he tried to quickly sit up, but his muscles were so stiff that he ended up whining in pain.

“Shhh, it’s alright.” Prince gently pushed him back onto the bed. A familiar red light filled Patton’s vision as Prince’s fire magic licked at his skin. “It wasn’t your fault, child. Your body just wasn’t ready to handle that much healing magic. I should’ve realized it was your first experience with powerful magic.”

Patton frowned and gestured to the flames. “What about your magic? And Duke’s?”

The fairy chuckled. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me, but this isn’t very strong magic. From a human’s perspective, this would seem like it’s difficult to perform. However, when you’ve been doing magic for centuries, this type of magic is almost as easy as breathing. Magic itself is more or less suggesting something to happen. The more you need to convince the outside world, the more powerful the magic. The human mind is… easily persuadable. Especially if the human is unaware of what the magic is persuading. My magic also specializes in protecting and defending, so anything to do with protecting you from harm will come easier to me than, say, Duke’s magic.” He gestured to the flames licking across Patton’s skin. “Right now, my magic is laced with the intent of relieving pain. That doesn’t mean that you’re not in pain or injured. If I used this magic while you had a broken bone, the bone wouldn’t change at all. All I’m doing is telling your nerves and brain that there isn’t any pain to be felt. You can still feel normal sensations, but with a small bit of magic your nerves will quickly believe that there’s no pain.”

Patton’s eyes went wide, excited by the new information. “Is that a part of physical magic or negotiation magic?”

Prince chuckled sheepishly. “A little bit of both, I guess? Magic is too fluid to be easily sorted into two categories. Or any categories for that matter.” The flames slowly receded from Patton’s skin and formed a ball in his godfather’s hand. “Magic is all about the creator’s intent and the situation surrounding them. You try the same thing twice and get a different reaction each time. Even spells and potions, which are designed to have the same effect no matter the caster, will still have minute differences. Anything can affect what the magic actually does, from the ambient magic in the air to if the caster has indigestion. Sure, when you’re not the one casting it’s important to know the different types of magic. But when you’re the one casting, you have an easier chance at getting the results you want if you focus more on what you want to happen, not what’s supposed to happen.” The fire in Prince’s hand dissipated, revealing a small red ball.

The ball was placed in Patton’s hands and he stared in wonder, squeezing it gently. The ball looked tiny in Prince’s giant hands, yet Patton was barely able to wrap his hand around it. It was squishy and malleable, but when Patton let go it quickly rose back up to its original shape. Patton didn’t realize how long he had been staring at the ball until there was a knock at the door.

The door opened to reveal Duke carrying a large silver tray, his bracelet emitting a soft orange glow. Prince must’ve summoned him while I was playing with the ball. Duke noticed that Patton was awake and his face lit up as he rushed over, the pile of objects on his tray miraculously staying in place. “Kid! You’re finally up!” He practically threw the tray onto the bed and held out his hands, making a grabby-motion with his hand. “Can I hug you? Please? I promise I’ll be gentle!”

Patton thought about it for a moment before nodding, and Duke wasted no time before climbing onto the bed and wrapping his arms around the human’s tiny frame. Patton relished the warmth, hugging Duke back with all the strength he had. Patton felt his heart twist as he sniffled. “I don’t know why, but a part of me still thought you wouldn’t want to touch me after this.”

Prince smiled sadly and Duke squeezed Patton just a little harder. “Kid, trust me. The only reason why we wouldn’t want to touch you is if you told us not to touch you.”

Patton nodded, pushing down the urge to cry happy-tears. He didn’t want to make the fairies worried, and honestly he almost felt too tired to cry. He glanced over at the tray that Duke had thrown down, everything on it still sitting upright and unspilled. Probably magic. Patton didn’t recognize anything on the tray. There was a bowl with a dark orange broth and what appeared to be minced vegetables, some of which he couldn’t recognize. There were also multiple bottles, similar to the expensive perfume Lady Hart used to buy, all different sizes and shapes, but the nozzle was replaced with a cork. “What’s that?”

Duke pulled away. “Oh! It’s lunch!” Duke grabbed the tray and pointed to the bowl. “This is lentil soup. Logic and I made it yesterday, and I’ve used magic to keep it warm and fresh.”

Patton perked up as he looked over at the soup. “Logic helped make it?”

The fairy shrugged. “It was more like I helped him. I think this was a family recipe or something, he didn’t even need a cookbook!”

Patton stared at the soup in awe, carefully grabbing the spoon and taking a bite. It was like nothing he had ever tasted before, and he couldn’t stop himself from humming in surprise. He quickly went for a second bite, then a third, then a fourth. Before he knew it, a third of the bowl was already gone and he was practically shoveling soup into his mouth as quickly as possible.

Prince chuckled and held his hands up. “Woah! Slow down, the soup isn’t going anywhere.” Patton nodded and slowed down a little, but he didn’t stop eating. Maybe it was how tasty it was, maybe it was the fact that Logic made it, maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t eaten in 3 days. But for some reason the thought of putting down this soup for even a second sounded like the worst thing he could do.

Duke held up one of the weird bottles. “Make sure you save room for these!” Patton tilted his head in confusion and Duke explained. “They’re potions to help you grow strong and heal better. You’ll start out drinking all of these with every meal, then you’ll take them once a day, and eventually you’ll be all fixed up and won’t need them anymore!”

Patton nodded and put down his spoon. He might as well drink the potion now and finish the soup after if he’s still hungry. “Why aren’t they in normal bottles? They look like perfume bottles with wine corks.”

Duke chuckled and picked up one of the bottles. “They do kinda look like that, don’t they? These are pure crystal vials, and the corks are made of a special material so it doesn’t mess with the potion.” He uncorked one of the vials and held it up to the human. “Drink up!”

Patton grabbed the vial and sniffed it, surprised by the lack of smell. He carefully took a sip before immediately spitting it back into the vial. He cringed and fought back the urge to gag. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Prince sighed. “There’s not much we can do about the flavor without tampering with the potion. I can temporarily take away your sense of taste, but it might not help much.”

Patton nodded his head frantically. “Please, I think I might get sick if I taste that again.” There was a quiet whoosh and the aftertaste of the potion completely disappeared. It was really weird, but Patton was thankful anyways as he downed the first bottle. He couldn’t really do anything about the texture as he tried to swallow the weird goopy substance. He gagged a little every time he finished a bottle, the only thing keeping him going was Prince softly encouraging him and Duke handing him the next uncorked bottle.

He eventually downed the last potion and shuddered, pushing the rest of the soup away. The soup was delicious, but if he swallowed anything else he would actually throw up. Prince carefully climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arm around Patton in a sideways hug, and Patton melted at the touch. “You did such a good job.” His Fairy Godfather praised, running a hand through Patton’s hair. He shuddered again but forced himself to smile, trying to convey his appreciation without talking.

After a while, when Patton felt like he could talk without getting sick, he realized something and shuddered again. “I have to go through that with every meal, don’t I?”

Duke nodded. “Until we’re sure that your body can naturally heal yourself.” He picked up the tray and touched the human’s knee. “But we’ll be here to help you through it!”

Prince nodded and rubbed Patton’s lower back, in a spot where there were no scars. Did he remember that there weren’t any scars there, or did he use magic to find the right spot? “I’m sorry that you have to go through all of this, child. But we will be here to help you through it all. If you allow me, I’ll make sure you never have to suffer alone again.”

Patton sniffled, letting a happy tear slide down his cheek. “I’d like that a lot. Thank you.” He didn’t fully believe his Fairy Godfather, but for now, he would let himself hope.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @whatishappeningrightnow @idont-freaking-know @cute-and-angsty-prince @girl-who-reads @count-woe-laf @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowylemon @stopthe-presses @the-sympathetic-villain @echo-goes-aaa @everythingisstardust

#sanders sides fic #Fairy Mafia #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Remus Sanders

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bytheangell · 4 years ago

Note

If you are still taking prompts, what would you think about writing something(s) based off of this, either/both, the Professor/TA, or the Writer/Editor?

Dedication (modern AU, Herongraystairs, check the link in the ask for full writer/editor prompt, a wonderful plot idea by @high-warlock-of-brooklyn!) (Read on AO3)

This is the first book Will and Tessa are collaborating on. They’ve written plenty of books individually and Jem’s worked with each of them in turn. But this is the first time they’ve co-authored, an experience that’s proving unique and challenging for all of them.

Being with Will and Tessa while they work on a new project is always a blessing and a curse. They’re two of the best writers of their generation and when they work on their own they’re brilliant, but when they work together - well, they’re also brilliant, but that brilliance is coupled with the occasional near-catastrophic clash of opinions and emotions.

Which is where Jem comes in.

Where Will and Tessa are so driven by passion and feelings, Jem finds it much easier to distance himself from their project (and from the writers themselves) enough to see the bigger picture and find solutions before the issues build up. Like many things about the three of them, it’s a perfect balance - they just work, better than anyone (including Will, Tessa, and Jem) ever imagined possible when they first got together.

It’d been a messy start, with Will and Jem already together but both developing serious feelings for Tessa after they met during a book event. The three of them quickly became very close. There were whispers of which of them would end up leaving, then confusion when the answer was none: instead of two of them growing closer and shutting the third out, they all seemed to adjust and adapt naturally around the three of them coexisting. They aren’t perfect, but they are perfect for each other, at least as far as Jem’s concerned.

Jem knows that what they have is special, which he reminds himself of over and over as Will and Tessa sit on opposite sides of the sofa, voices quickly elevating to nearly shouting over an issue with one of the characters Will is in charge of writing: one he’s chosen to give a pretty damning curse from a trickster faerie in this land of magic their current collaboration is set in.

“Tell him he needs to make the changes, Jem,” Tessa insists, the third time she’s repeated the demand now.

“Tell her that this plot adds depth, and without it, he’s boring,” Will counters. “Sometimes people - characters - need to be brutally honest about their own faults and issues. Sometimes people are disappointing.”

That’s how Jem can tell things are spiraling: when Will and Tessa - who have effectively communicated and collaborated on half a dozen bestsellers and who love each other more than Jem’s ever seen two people experience love - refuse to speak directly to one another. The moment they start talking around each other and at Jem instead is when he knows he has to step in and diffuse.

Usually, it’s a matter of taking a break, getting some fresh air, and coming back with clear minds. Jem normally isn’t one to pick sides, but this is different. He isn’t worried about the direction of the book… but after reading the latest draft from Will, which Will wrote while refusing to speak to either of them for a full week, he’s worried about Will. And he knows Tessa is, too.

“Perhaps a good starting point would be admitting this isn’t really about the character at all,” Jem says softly, gazing closely between Will and Tessa. Will looks a bit guilty and Tessa looks away entirely, which tells Jem that he’s right in guessing their concerns are also less plot-based.

“...what else would it be about?” Will asks defensively. But they can all sense how he’s been pushing them away lately, much like the cursed character undeserving of love he’s written in. It’s obvious that Tessa isn’t sure how to bring it up or else she would’ve already. Or maybe she already had and it hadn’t gone well.

“Tessa, would you mind making some tea?” Jem asks, waiting until she’s out of the room to turn back to Will.

“Will… you know this is about you. You barely talk to anyone for a week then come back with this character in such a self-deprecating mindset…”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s just a character,” Will says, but Jem can tell he’s entirely unconvinced of his own words.

“So if Tess came back having written Evangeline that way?” Jem counters, and there’s that look of subtle guilt, right back on Will’s face as he frowns and pieces together why Tessa’s so upset with him.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Will sighs.

“We’re not mad at you,” Jem’s quick to point out. “We’re just worried. It’s been a while since you tried to push us away like this, I just want to make sure you’re okay. We both do. Take it out in the writing if you want, but talk with us, too. Alright, my love?”

Jem’s tense as he waits. This has one of two options: Will relents and listens to him and they all have tea and talk this out, or Will storms out and they don’t see him again for another day or two.

Will stays. “I’m just letting the pressure get to me,” he admits. “I’m sure that’s all it is... But yeah. Okay. Tea.”

Tea, meaning ‘I’ll stay. I’ll talk. I’ll try.’ Jem leans over and places a barely-there kiss on Will’s lips before he relaxes back in his seat. Reaching out a hand that Will readily takes, Jem gives it a tight squeeze as they both wait for Tessa to return.

They talk.

In the end, the character arc stays. With a few redeeming modifications at Tessa and Jem’s entirely unbiased suggestion, of course.

---

A little over halfway through the first draft things seem to stall out. They have a progress deadline that week with the publisher and they’re cutting it close - mostly because Tessa keeps tossing everything she writes without giving Jem the chance to look it over. Recently she’s let her curiosity get the best of her, delving into research she should be allowing Jem to help with.

...and when he says ‘delving’, what he really means is stubbornly obsessing over, nitpicking bits of lore to streamline, and doing hours and hours of research for single-line references.

“When was the last time she slept? Like, an actual night of sleep?” Jem asks Will one day after a quick touch-base meeting that went… not terribly, but not particularly great, either.

“You need to get her out of here. No books. No wifi. I tried to kick her out but… well, you can imagine how well that went,” Will admits, and Jem winces in sympathy.

“The Time Out Cottage?” Jem asks, referring to a small cottage they own for unplugged getaways, where the wifi signal is nonexistent and a landline exists for emergency calls. “That means we’ll both be out of easy reach, and with that Friday deadline-”

“I can handle it,” Will cuts him off. “She’s been getting in her own way for days now, but she refuses to listen to me.”

A few minutes later Jem tentatively knocks on the door to the small study that does, in fact, look more like a makeshift research library. He nearly doesn’t see Tessa behind the small mountain of books on the floor, but he hears her pen tapping rapidly against the hardwood. No, not just rapidly - anxiously. He knows that action all too well.

“Tessa, what number is that?” he asks, the question needing no further explanation past his accusatory tone and pointed look at a coffee mug, which is next to a second coffee mug, which is next to a cup of black tea.

“Four? No, wait… what time is it?” she glances around and seems surprised by the height of the sun in the sky. “It’s afternoon already?”

Jem sighs. “It’s nearly four o’clock, Tessa, and your blood is probably about 90% caffeine. Come on, get your things, we’re taking a trip.”

Tessa looks immediately horrified. “No! I can’t, we can’t! The deadline, and I still have to streamline the fae lore between the two-”

“Will has it handled for 24 hours. That’s all we’re asking. 24 hours without research.” “Jem, you know-”

“-that you’ll be twice as productive once we’re back and you’re refreshed instead of running on fumes and fever dreams?” Jem cuts her off, his tone kind but insistent. He bends over and picks up a piece of paper. “Tessa, my love, this is nearly incoherent.”

Tessa reaches up to take the page from him and frowns. “I… okay, I can make out some of this, but I’m pretty sure that bit talks about aliens which isn’t any more reassuring. Will did say I was writing myself in circles, but I thought he was just, well, being Will, so... Yeah. Okay. Maybe I need to step back for a bit.” Tessa sighs. “The Time Out Cottage?��

“I already packed you a bag,” Jem confirms with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the middle of her forehead before reaching out a hand to help her up off the floor.

When they return exactly 24 hours later, Tessa gets back to work and the lore practically falls into place between the two of them.

They meet the Friday deadline without a problem.

---

Jem spends his free time playing violin while Will and Tessa go through the first draft and begin to brainstorm fixes for plotholes, new minor characters to add to scenes that feel a bit lacking, and other small improvements to really round out the story and the world they’re weaving. They both claim to think clearer with his music in the background so he stays, even if he doesn’t feel particularly useful for this stage of the process until they have a single, coherent draft to hand over to him.

These are the moments Jem’s own insecurities and flaws float to the surface. The moments he watches Will and Tessa, so alike, so perfect for each other, connect on a level he isn’t privy to. He knows it’s a silly thought, that he and Will have their own things, as do he and Tessa. But sometimes he wonders if they truly need him around, or if he’s simply just become too much a part of the routine to actively get rid of.

He watches them sit next to each other with shoulders touching, hunched over a small screen, whispering back and forth. There’s a small smile on his face, one that’s wistful and tinged with hints of longing that, much to his dismay, they pick up on.

“I know that look,” Tessa says, catching Jem’s gaze and drawing Will’s attention before Jem can wipe the expression from his face. “Get over here. I think we’ve done enough work for today.”

Will is the first to move over, making room for Jem in the middle of them. After placing his violin back in its case Jem heads over to join them on the sofa, embracing the way Will and Tessa immediately crowd into his space once he’s settled, both placing a comforting kiss to his temples simultaneously before resting their heads on each of his shoulders and a placing a hand in each of his own.

They talk a bit, not about the book, but about anything and everything else, and fall asleep there, still entwined together.

---

It’s rare for any part of one of their books to be a surprise to Jem upon publication. He sees all the drafts, talks them through the acknowledgments and dedications, double-checks the reference pages against the chaotic piles of books and notes around their home.

So he’s immediately (and rightfully) suspicious the moment they hand him the first advanced copy and tell him to open it, watching his every move with eager expressions. Excited, but anxious.

‘A dedication to the one most dedicated to us:

This book would not be what it is without the kind heart, encouraging words, and infinite patience of James Carstairs. Neither would we. Jem, you are a light in our darkest hours, and we don’t know where we’d be without you.

We hope we’ll never have to find out.

Jem, our love, will you marry us?’

Jem reads, then re-reads the dedication. He closes the book, then opens it again, reading it a third time for good measure.

“Well?” Will asks impatiently, earning himself a nudge in the ribs from Tessa. Will huffs.

“I see you’re as dramatic as always,” Jem says quietly, instead of answering the question posed in the book. He knows his answer. He’s known for a while now what his answer would be, should the topic ever present itself, but he gets a bit of joy from making Will wait in anticipation just a short while longer.

“He wanted to be even more dramatic and show you at the event tomorrow,” Tessa admits. “But we decided against it. We thought you deserved the chance to say no without two hundred sets of eyes on you.”

Jem raises an eyebrow. “You think I’ll say no?”

“You haven’t said ‘yes’ yet,” Will points out, but he doesn’t sound nervous about it. Nor should he be.

“Yes,” Jem says, smiling brightly. “Of course it’s yes.”

#herongraystairs #will herondale #tessa gray #jem carstairs #tsc #thanks to Jay for letting me play around with that prompt!#SORRY THIS TOOK A MILLION YEARS #making prompt progress between weekly codas and bingo fills slowly but surely #i hope you like it my anon friend!#elle writes a few deadbeat lines #anon glamour activated #ask rune #long post #elle talks too much

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moomingitz · 3 years ago

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I just finished Jak II last night, so I'll give my random thoughts and opinions both it and the first game(I played both back to back) while they're still fresh in my mind. Most of them concerns the second game in the trilogy. Also, I played the original PS2 releases on a CRT television set, because not only did I not want to deal with the potential problems with hooking up an old system on a modern smart TV, but I wanted to play them as they were intended to be played:

- These games look gorgeous on a CRT screen and they aesthetically still hold up very well to this day. I really do mean it when I say that these games, style and story wise, are tailor made for an animated series adaptation.

- While I really do like the more dark and dystopian direction the series took after the first game, and that it's an example of doing that sort of thing right is a hill I will die on, I still wish we could have seen more of the timeline in the TPL before they made the shift. I wanted to see more about the sages, the cast's lives and backgrounds in Sandover Village, and learn more about Gol and Maia, before the switch. I think we can all agree the transition could have been smoother. And again, I liked the direction they went with after the first game, so it’s not like I hated the change. But, I really do think the series would benefit from a remake, reboot, or being adapted into an animated series, as it would allow for a good opportunity to better ease people into the eventual tone and setting change later on. Like retcon certain things, add several hints and foreshadowing to Jak's real origin like maybe his explorer uncle being well aware that Jak is his descendant from the future, have the knowledge and research of the sages have an effect on what happens in the future(like in the fan fic, "Captive Voice", where surviving documents of Gol and Maia's experiments with dark eco became the blueprint for the Dark Warrior Program), and so on. Maybe even have something of an epilogue of the first game's story that serves a segway into the second game's story. Little changes and details like that would make a difference in helping the overall trilogy feel more cohesive, and even help make the tonal and setting shift hit harder.

- Playing through the first game feels bittersweet. What I mean by that is now having hindsight knowing that Jak will eventually go through some pretty traumatic shit, and seeing this as a happier period in his life where being a hero and adventuring was this romanticized thing to look forward to, when in reality it's something that would eventually take a very real emotional and mental tole on someone especially that young. Kind of like going back and watching the earlier episodes of Steven Universe. You know what’s coming.

- I don't think people understand just how much of a difference good voice acting, voice direction, and cinematography can make in a video game, especially story driven ones. I think the voice acting alone is one of the crucial reasons why Naughty Doge was able to pull off taking the series into a more mature direction and making Jak no longer a silent protagonist to project yourself onto. There are dark gritty serious games even today where it's hard for me to take seriously because the voice acting in it completely fucks it all up. Gonna keep saying it, but these games would translate very well into an animated adaption.

- Despite the whole darker and mature shift they took after the first game, Jak II is actually very tame by today's standards. Remove the occasional cursing and raunchy humor and the game, tone and story wise, feels just like an action cartoon that would have aired on Toonami(in a good way).

- Jak II has a reputation for being really difficult, but in all honesty I actually didn't really have a hard time getting through it. Don't get me wrong there are difficulty spikes in the game, and how the check points work in some of the missions is bull, but I think people tend to exaggerate the game's difficulty(unless you're playing hero mode). I pretty much breezed right through the first act of the game, and it was only until I got to the second act where the difficulty spikes began for me, but I still managed to get through them with some practice. While I did used to play and beat this game a lot during my edgy teen years, this was still my very first time playing in over 15 years, yet I had no where as much of a hard time as I used to back then. Hell, I only died twice during the final boss fight; the first time was on purpose so I could get full health back, and the second time was due to trial and error. I actually died more during the final boss in the first game! Playing the original PS2 release on an older CRT TV probably also helped, since it controls the best for obvious reasons.

Yes, the game can be difficult and unfair in some places(fuck that ring race with Erol and the ambush in the water slums), but it's no where near the level of a typical NES game. As long as you take your time, strategize, memorize the hub areas, and utilize the combat and weapon system that doesn't just involve spamming the jump spin and shoot move(like I used to), you'll get through the game just fine. Or just don't be DarksydePhil.

- I'm gonna have to agree with people that Haven City is just a bit too freaking big to traverse around. It's not as egregious compared to other sandbox like games, and I had the place pretty much memorized, but a warp gate or two could have made a pretty big difference in cutting down the time going from mission to mission.

- There's not really much of an incentive to further explore Jak II after you beat the main story campaign, unfortunately. So unless you're into the lore or world building of the game you won't really get much else out from it after you beat the game.

- Dark Jak is, unfortunately, very underutilized. The only time I really used that form was during the final boss fight and that was about it. Guess that's another thing this series shares with the Sonic franchise back in the mid 2000s when it comes to dark edgy forms...

****

Despite some minor gripes, I still enjoyed Jak II. Going to start Jak 3 later today or after I get home from work tomorrow. Thinking of playing Jak X and Daxter afterwards. I might try out The Lost Frontier... might.

#Jak and Daxter #Jak II #video games #opinions #personal

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

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Title: In The Act {3}

Chris Evans x Famous OFC Cassia Drake

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Plenty of Words

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: After the release of your hit movie “Roman Holiday,” you’ve become Hollywood’s new “It Girl.” Everyone wants a piece of you. While at a Hollywood event, you get pulled into an epic selfie similar to the one from the MET Gala with the megastars of Hollywood. The next day all anyone can talk about is this epic picture but not because of the star power in it, but what was happening in it.

Note: Yep, another one.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

**Heavily Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️❤️

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 |

Thank god for slow mornings. You couldn’t think of the last time you were able to wake up without Pieter either standing over you or walking into your bedroom. He was the only one your mother trusted with you, and he just so happened to be a big shot entertainment manager. When you told your mother that you intended to pursue a career in acting, she was livid. She went on a tirade of the number of black actresses who either had to do questionable things to even have a minor break and those who just were used and turned away. She stressed the vast inequalities in the entertainment industry and worried for your mental and emotional health in the cruel industry. She didn't want you anywhere near the entertainment industry. She wanted you to fall into her second career field and be a lawyer.

It took months of you doing it on your own before you got your first role, it was small, but you played the shit out of the third black friend to the white lead actress then did it again and again and again. After your fourth role, your mother came around and brought Pieter into the mix. You knew of him from the industry. He’d been in a few tabloid magazines standing next to a few actresses. Your mother introduced him as her school friend from back in the day. You wanted to question her, but you knew better than that and just accepted the story she fed you. You always suspected there was more to it. The two of them sat you down for three hours to have a meeting on your goals with the industry.

After you went on and on for an hour, they went on and on for the next two outlining what needed to happen, how you needed to take things seriously, and put thought into the roles you auditioned for and so on. By the end of the meeting, you were on information overload, and that was when your mother told you the only way she’d be okay with you in this cutthroat town was if Pieter managed you. There was nothing in you that wanted to say no, so you said yes. That was two years now, and it had been a rollercoaster from the beginning.

Once in your kitchen still in your bra and panties, you perused the shelves in your fridge and took out the huge fruit salad you found there. After smelling it, you settled that it was still good and hopping onto the kitchen island and turned on the TV. As you ate, you flipped through the channels determined not to go to anything that required a brain cell. After a few moments of searching, you decided to finish the episode of Castlevania you’d started weeks ago.

You got lost in the lore of the Dracula themed animated series and the deliciousness of the fruit you were eating. You’d tuned everything out so well that you didn’t even hear anyone approach.

“Cassia!”

“What!”

You looked back to see Tiffany with her head poked around a corner looking at you.

“I think you’re gonna want to come out here,” she said with a look on her face you didn’t recognize.

“Uhh—why?”

“Just come look.” With that, her head was gone. Sighing, you pressed pause on the show, hopped off the counter, stabbed a piece of honeydew, and walked to where she’d disappeared. When you walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to your foyer, there sat a rather large floral arrangement.

“What the fuck is this?”

“What does it look like?”

“Flowers,” you answered before you shoved the fruit in your mouth to stand beside Tiffany.

“Duh.”

“Who are they from?”

You both stood there, just staring at it. They were gorgeous.

“I don’t know. I have been trying not to grab the card,” tiffany added. You looked at her; there was a wide ass grin on her face.

“It’s probably from Vouge thanking me for the photoshoot yesterday,” you surmised as you approached the arrangement. The scent of roses was powerful but not overwhelming.

Grabbing the card, you glanced at the front to see your name written across it. You didn’t recognize the handwriting. When you opened it, you scanned the words written, expecting to see “thank you.” Instead, you saw the words, “I’m sorry.” Bringing the card closer to your face, you read the words. Each word you read, your eyes bugged out even more and more until your jaw had dropped.

“What? Who’re they from?”

“Not Vouge.” Tiffany walked to you and took the card from your hands and read it aloud.

“Cassia, allow me to begin by extending my most sincerest apology to you for first my behavior the night of the fashion event and second the position I have put you in with the press. I am embarrassed and ashamed of my actions and behavior,” Tiffany began before she looked at you with eyes wide.

“Is this who I think it is? Oh my god, Cass!”

She dropped her eyes back to the card and continued. “I am embarrassed and ashamed of my actions and behavior, and I deeply regret them. I am very sorry, and I want you to know that in no way did I mean to objectify you or your body. I have two sisters and a strong Italian mother, and I was not raised that way at all. I hope that you can forgive me and my actions and not hold it against my family. Please accept these flowers as a token of my most heartfelt apology. Sincerely Chris Evans,” Tiffany finished with the squeal of his name.

“Oh my god! Cass!”

You’d been frozen in place for the last two minutes as she read the card. There were a plethora of things running through your head. One of which was the number of formal words he’d used.

“Oh my fucking god! Cass, is this his handwriting? It looks like it could be, it’s legible. Oh my god.”

You heard Tiffany reread the card, and as she did, you turned back to the flowers and observed them. You took notice that the flowers were all in your favorite colors. That made you wonder if he knew your favorite colors, or this was just a florist’s decision.

“Why are you so quiet? Why aren’t you freaking out?”

“Do you think he knows my these are my favorite colors?”

Tiffany looked back to the arrangement then let out a “hmm.”

“Do you think he specially researched you in order to send these? It is possible. this card sounds like he put a lot of thought into it.”

You took the card from her and reread it for yourself. She was right; the handwriting wasn’t horrible, by no means was it gorgeous, but it was nice. You began to wonder if he had, in fact, written it himself.

“Are you going to reply?”

That was the million-dollar question. You didn’t see a need to. Even if you did, what what you say? Thank you, Mr. Evans, for apologizing for looking down my dress. Though I enjoyed the attention, and I am flattered, It was highly inappropriate? Somehow that didn’t seem right.

“No need,” you answered before you walked away toward the kitchen and your fruit salad.

“What!”

Tiffany’s footsteps were loud as she trudged behind you.

“Why wouldn’t you reply? This could be one of the cutest meet-cute stories for your grandkids.”

“Oh my god, Tiff, grandkids? Are you insane right now?”

“Girl, don’t even try and lie and say you don’t think the man is fine.”

“I never said he wasn’t attractive.”

“Attractive? Cassia Anjelique Drake, you know you a damn liar. The man is more than attractive. He is gorgeous,” Tiff corrected.

“And he knows it, Tiffany. You can tell. I bet part of him thought he could have gotten away with x-ray visioning me, and no one would have called him out for it.”

“Cass,” Tiff began before you cut her off.

“—We’re not responding,” you finished turning back on Castelvania.

You knew Tiffany did not approve and also knew you hadn’t heard the end of it. You tried to focus on the show, but it was useless. Your mind only wanted to think of one thing—or person. Chris Evans.

Your day was just for meetings. Pieter had set you up with six meetings for the day. The first three were about movie roles he thought would suit your brand. They were all varying roles, one the lead in an action flick, another the love interest in a rom-com, and the third in a sci-fi type dramady. He said the worst thing in the world was being typecast. With Roman Holiday being a romcom, you knew he’d want your next role to be on the far opposite side of the spectrum.

The roles sounded exciting, and the scripts intrigued you. When they began talking about the expected salary for the films, you were impressed. They were practically throwing their money at you. You couldn’t believe the money actors actually received for a few months of work. Yeah, the schedule could be daunting and preparation never ending, but millions of dollars for maybe five to six months of work was just fine by you.

After the three movie meetings where you agreed to take the scripts and reread them before you got back to them, you moved on to a meeting with your team to discuss the next three months for you while going over the last three months. This happened quarterly, and you found the meetings insightful. They kept you on track with your goals and kept things in perspective. Your mother always said you are only as good as a capable team around you.

Your team comprised of your agent, Eduardo, whose job was to hunt down all the roles he could for you and field calls and interest from anyone and everyone in the business. Second, your publicist Julez, her domain was everything concerning your PR. Her job was to make sure that everything about you in the public remained favorable. She was good at what she did, and took her job seriously. Then was your lawyer, Martin, who was the second-best entertainment lawyer in the business. The best as far as you were concerned was your mother. His job was to keep everything legal and make sure no one tried to take advantage of you business-wise. Fourth, was your accountant, Greg. He was your money man. He made sure every cent you agreed upon with your contracts, was sent to your bank account and that every dime in your account was accounted for at all times. He even helped you invest that money, so it always grew. Then came your part-time stylist, Frenchie. Her job was to keep you looking incredible when she was needed. Finally, there was Pieter who oversaw them all. Tiffany nicknamed them Star Team, in honor of your name.

Though you’d learned to listen and follow along when they talked, you had to admit most of the information was boring to you, so you often drifted off. You never felt guilty about it because Tiffany was always recording the meetings and inventorying them for you if you needed to reference them later.

“Okay, is that all?” Pieter looked around at their faces around the conference table.

“One more thing, Julez began. “Have you decided how you’d like to move forward with eh-em, Boobgate?”

The murmurs around the desk picked up before Julez went on. “The media seemed to love your snarky, comedic comeback, Cassia. They are now doing most of the work for us by calling you good-spirited and easy-going for shrugging it off. A lot of the comments since are in good fun. I don’t see anything negative to come through, so I’m going to say we’re staying in good parameters. I have noticed though a great increase in searches about you and your overall name being mentioned. People love talking about you and Chris,” Juelz finished.

“Why wouldn’t they? They look gorgeous together,” Frenchie added.

“That seems to be the overall consensus. It is fascinating even those in his fandom do not seem to be spinning this negatively, which is always a concern with him and his team,” Juelz informed.

That was not news to you. When you had yet to make your big break, you followed celebrity discourse, and the Chris Evans fandom was insane. It seemed any little thing set them off, and once a fire was sparked, it would burn for weeks. With your rising fame, you worried about things like that on your end and being swept up in someone else’s insanity.

“So let’s leave it there. Let the media run with it where they will. We’ll do and say nothing on it. We’ll let this work for us,” Pieter finalized.

Everyone nodded before he called an end to the meeting, and everyone began to leave the room. Before you left, Pieter took the time to remind you about your last meeting of the day and share the news about a few other side projects he’d been working on for you. He shared that within a week or two, he hoped to be able to share the full news but that he was excited at the turn talks had taken today. You were curious but knew if you asked him to elaborate, he would only shoo you away, promising it would be a good surprise. He had your mother’s trust and had earned yours, so you allowed him to keep his secrets—for now.

After your last meeting, you found yourself home alone before midnight. This was the first time you'd been able to get any alone time. As you made it in your bedroom, you realized the flowers were now perched on your bedside table. They were even more beautiful in the glow of the moonlight that was shining through your balcony windows. Tiffany must have sent a message to the housekeeper to move them there.

You took up the card and reread it, all the while smiling. It was a sweet apology note and a kind gesture. You were surprised Julez didn’t bring them up in the meeting until it dawned on you that either she didn’t know which meant they came directly from him and not his assistant or team or she didn’t want to put you on the spot. While she technically answered to Pieter, she knew your money was what paid her salary. That meant you and her had an understanding about your PR needs. You liked discretion on things that no one else needed to know. This—you didn’t want Pieter knowing about. There was no need for him to know. It meant nothing.

The next day before you left your house, there was yet another bouquet and the card that accompanied it read; “Just in case you didn’t believe the first card I sent with the first arrangement I wanted to double down to make sure you knew that I am very much sorry.”

Tiffany didn’t say one word, all she did was give you a look, and that one look said plenty of things in one. “Heifer, you better reply to that man and live your life while swinging from his chandelier butt ass naked.” You had no intention of doing anything that look said.

The next day, another bouquet was waiting for you. this card was a little more amusing. “The first bouquet I could say you possibly didn’t receive. I know your life is busy, and anything can happen, but the second one, eh, less believable that you didn’t get no matter how much my pride is screaming at me that you didn’t just to save face. This one, I am sure you got, I had my assistant take care of it and attach a delivered and received receipt. So you responding is a purpose thing, and that makes me think I fucked up really bad, so bad that flowers won’t fix it, and you don’t forgive me. So I propose an alternative option. Allow me to apologize in person and explain myself. You pick the time and the place, and I’ll show up.”

When Tiffany saw this one, she lost her shit. She went on a full twenty-minute speech on why you should respond and accept his proposal. She went through exhibits A to Z as to why this was a good idea. She conveniently skipped the letter P knowing damn well the only thing you both could think of was Pieter. You knew that if he knew about any of this, he would flip his lid. When she included in her argument that you could make all of his dreams come true that he’s had all his life but was too afraid to inquire about.

You allowed her to go on her rant but still decided against responding or meeting him.

~~~~~~~~

-2 Days Later-

“So Cassia, everyone wants to know about this picture that is still the talk of the town. You haven’t made a statement, Chris hasn’t made a statement. What gives?” Ryan Seacrest’s question had you giggling.

“Nothing gives, Ryan. Not everything needs an explanation. Sometimes as humans, we have to learn to be okay with what is,” you philosophized.

Silence stretched for a full ten seconds before everyone around you busted out laughing, including yourself.

“Wow, I almost fell for that,” Ryan added, making you laugh louder.

“Darn, I almost got away with it.”

“You would have if I really didn’t want an answer,” Ryan slid in.

“Ah, everyone wants an answer, Ryan. I don’t have an answer to give.”

“You weren’t there?”

“No. It was my twin sister, Alicia.”

Another long stretch of silence filled the room. You could tell they were trying to figure out if you were telling the truth. “See, you guys are easy,” you teased, making them laugh again.

“So, you’re really not going to make a statement?”

“I went to an event and met a lot of cool people and had a great time.”

“Did you and Chris Evans leave together?”

“Not at all.”

“Did you exchange numbers?”

“Nope.”

Another silence befell the room, and you knew they didn’t believe you. For the next five minutes or so, you finished the interview while keeping tightlipped about the hottest topic. When you left, you were met with the paparazzi yet again, who were shouting new questions.

“Cassia, are the rumors true?”

“What rumors, guys?”

“That you’re in a relationship with Captain America himself.”

You tried to hide your shock before you quickly spoke.

“Who said that?”

Tiffany snorted beside you, no doubt thinking of her favorite gif.

“It is all over social media,” one of the paparazzo informed.

“That’s news to me,” you finished as your security got you to your truck. Before you got in one more question was screamed at you.

“How’d it feel to have Captain America checking you out?”

You couldn’t hide your smirk this time, and it was a smirk that only got bigger and bigger. Before you cheesed like a full-on idiot, you ducked in the truck.

“Your smirk said it all,” Tiffany said as you facepalmed.

After a quick trip to the market for some essentials, you made it home to finish reading the scripts you needed to have done in two days. When you walked inside, you ignored the second bouquet of flowers, Chris sent you the day after the first and went upstairs. Once in your bedroom, the third bouquet he sent yesterday caught your eye. The first one was a shock, the second a surprise, the third confusing.

After your shower, you walked back into your bedroom to find another bouquet that wasn't there thirty minutes ago. You knew they were from him. This was now amusing. What was his angle, you thought to yourself as you crossed the room to the flowers. Taking a deep whiff of them, you moaned. You loved the scent of Gardenia. They always put you in the frame of mind of romance and sensual rolls in bed. With that thought, you paused. Was he trying to tell you something?

Grabbing the envelope, you noted it was a lot bigger than the cards that accompanied the other bouquets. Once opening it, you saw a sheet of paper that felt heavier than standard paper, and with it came what you now knew was his handwriting. “Okay, after thinking about this for the last week trying to figure out what it is about me that you don’t like or won’t even entertain. Let’s start with the massive elephant in the room; I’m white.”

You had to laugh out loud for that. After almost a full minute of laughter that made you have to sit on your bed, you continued. “I know a major turn off, and unfortunately, it’s not something I can change. However, I can assure you that though I am white aesthetically, I am not fully white in any other department, and yes, that includes dancing.”

Again you laughed, dropping onto your back while flailing your legs in the air. He was on a roll; you thought before you continued. “Second, it must be you’re not into white guys. For that, the only thing I can offer is I’m not against wearing a paper bag to hide the fact that I am, in fact, white. It would be a case of none are the wiser. If, however, your gripe with me is my behavior from nights before, I promise I’m not a sleaze twenty-four hours of the day. I am capable of looking directly into your eyes for an entire conversation, I promise. Let me prove it to you. 424-947-5639.”

Your jaw dropped. Chris freaking Evans just gave you his phone number. You couldn’t move for the next ten minutes. You just sat there in a stunned stupor. You couldn’t believe this was real. Half of you was fangirling because hello not too long ago; you were a fan. You still were. The other half was freaking out because Chris Evans just gave you his phone number. Was he just being friendly, or was he shooting his shot?

MSG: Question.

MSG Tiff: Answer for two hundred Alex.

MSG: How does one shoot their shot?

MSG Tiff: What? Cass, has it really been that long since you’ve made the first move?

MSG: Do you know who you’re talking to? I’ve never made the first move. That is beside the point. I’m not talking about me shooting my shot. I mean when someone shoots their shot at you. What exactly does it look like?

You saw the bubbles knowing she was probably writing a long ass message. Almost a minute later, the message came in.

MSG Tiff: Uh, were you not present at the Laker’s game when the Sixers were in town, and Jonah Bolden stopped the game to come over and shoot his shot?

You laughed. You hadn’t forgotten that, mainly because it was everywhere the next day. The two of you talked for a few weeks, but your schedule and his had things fizzling real quick.

MSG: Yeah, but he was black, Tiff.

That was when the facetime call came in. you rolled your eyes but answered it. “So are we asking what it looks like when a white guy shoots his shot? Is that to lead me to think you mean a particular America’s ass?”

“Oh my god, Tiff. Just answer please,” you pleaded with exasperation.

“I need to know who first. White guys shooting their shot do not come in one size fits all. So who?”

Rolling your eyes again, you told her and prepared for the scream. It was as loud as expected.

“Okay, I knew he was feeling you. A man doesn’t look at any ol breasts like that,” Tiffany joked before she continued. “He looks like he could have game, but it could be cheesy game. Did he send you more flowers?”

You turned the camera to the new bouquet, and she melted. “Oh my god, those are to die for. They just get more and more beautiful. He definitely put research into this one. you love gardenias.”

It was true, and the thought had crossed your mind. When she asked what the note said this time, you read it to her. It had her laughing just as hard and long. When you mentioned that he ended it with his number, she screamed again.

“Call him!”

“No!”

“Cassiopeia Anjelique Drake! The man has shot his ultimate shot,” Tiffany shouted, using your entire full name.

You rolled your eyes and dropped back onto your bed.

“I can’t call. Pieter will freak,” you excused.

“Fuck, Pieter!” It came from the depths of her soul, you could tell. “This is your life, your pussy!”

You face palmed yourself again. She had to go there.

“I’m serious. I know you’ve heard the rumors from that comedian he dated, and he swears his fingering is accurate, and you have seen his beard. A man with a beard like that is good for one thing.”

You screamed and died again. She was in prime form right now.

“Cassia.”

Groaning, you sat up and sighed out. “I gotta go Tiff, I’m supposed to have a video conference in ten minutes, and I’m sitting here in a towel. I’ll call you later.”

“When you call me, you better be telling me that you talked to that man,” Tiffany shouted out as you were ending the facetime call.

You quickly got yourself together, and presentable then made it to your office to prep for the conference with the scripts. Seeing how far behind you were with the scripts, you show the participants a quick email to push it back by a few hours. Then you buckled down to actually get some work done instead of thinking about the real reason Chris Evans had a beard.

Two hours later, you were on the conference and going through the script line for line, film direction after direction. If one script would have taken an hour to go through, then three took you triple the time. By the time you’d finished for the day, you were all talked out, exhausted, and starving. Glancing at your phone, you saw missed calls from Tiffany and your mother and groaned at the fact that it was after one in the morning. If you’d have known following your dreams meant bye-bye to normal sleep hours, then you may have thought twice.

With the craving for the most unhealthy crap raging within you, you got into your car and went for a drive. While the time meant not many were out, you knew anywhere in the heart of LA would be a mistake. You drove half an hour out of the way to Pasadena to the burger spot you found by accident. It was no Shake Shake, but it offered two of your favorite things in one place, Burgers and Pies.

As you walked inside the small shop, you smiled, grateful it was practically empty. You walked to the back of the retro style burger joint and sat in the last booth. Deciding it was safe to drop your disguise, you took off your hat and sunglasses and took a deep breath of the glorious smell of burger and pies. You weren’t waiting long before a waitress came over with a note pad.

“Welcome. Can I take your order?”

“Yes, the Big Ben burger with the works, please.” She looked at you like you were insane.

“Are you sure? That’s a big plate,” she warned. You smiled and nodded.

“Oh yeah. I haven’t eaten all day,” you assured.

“Okay. How would you like it?”

“Very well done, please.”

She nodded as she jotted your order down. “Anything to drink?”

“Ginger Ale with a lemon slice, please,” you finished before she nodded and walked away.

You really liked this place. It was one of the few places that still had a jukebox. Digging into your purse, you pulled out a quarter then walked to the device that wasn’t too far from the booth you’d chosen. As you perused the selections of old and new music, you tried to gauge the mood you were in. It had been a while since you were able to sneak away on your own. You were in the mood for some relaxation but a bit of fun. You tapped in the key combination and turned the knob, and waited for the tune to play. When the oldie by Rihanna “Pon de Replay” came on, you began flicking your hips from side to side until you began winding it. You heard the distant ring of a bell that signified someone else had entered the restaurant, but it didn’t register, you were too into the song.

When you really got into it, you dipped it low as instructed and began singing along. That was when your entire body got into it, and you tapped into your own inner bad gyal. When you turned around, you yelped loudly, drawing the attention of the waitstaff to you. Before you stood the person, you least expected to see. The crooked quirk of his lip gave him the most roguish look you’d ever seen, a look that shouldn’t have turned you on the way it had—but it did.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Chris teased with an impossibly deep voice. It never sounded that deep in interviews, you thought to yourself before your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. His cerulean eyes fell from yours to your mouth, and you watched as his tongue slowly slid across his lips. Your nipples beaded painfully, and you didn’t need to look down to know that if anyone looked, it would be more than noticeable.

Why are you turned on right now, you questioned in your head. There was no logical reason for it. Yes, he smelled—incredible. There was no way anyone should smell that good; it was impossible. He smelled like fruits, sea salt, sunshine, vanilla, and a very appealing musk. He smelled like he took four showers a day and took pride in being groomed to perfection. The more you thought about it, the harder your nipples got.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Clearing your throat, it came out most exaggeratedly with a long high pitch. Chris’s brows wrinkled as he looked at you as if there might have been something wrong with you.

“Uh—are you okay?”

Instead of words, it was terrifying giggles that came out, making you sound like a deranged, cackling Hyena. The look on Chris’s face only became more concerned. You cleared your throat again this time more naturally and straightened your back.

“What’re—what’re you doing—here?”

“In a public restaurant?”

“Yeah, this public space,” you clarified before you crossed your arms over your breasts. “It’s mine.”

“Yours? You own it?”

“No, but it’s my secret place.”

“Ah, I see. If it was so much of a secret, then how did I find it?”

He was contesting you, challenging you. It was at this moment you got the vibe from him that he was the type of man who liked to debate, compete, and win. A man like that should have had your red flags blaring, but no red flags were waving. The only thing that was waving in front of you was a deep curiosity to know this man in a way that you hadn’t wanted to know anyone before.

Shrugging, you walked back to your table and sat. He approached you all the while, never taking his eyes off of you. You bit your bottom and tried to keep your thoughts boring. Before either of you could speak again, the waitress came back with your order.

“Big Ben burger with the works and fries and a ginger ale with lemon slices.”

When she put it down, she looked to Chris, who dipped his head low and pulled down his hat. The woman looked as if she might have recognized him, but she didn’t speak; she just peered closer. You cleared your throat and slid your plate closer. It was enough to distract the woman.

“Will there be anything else, honey?”

“No, thank you.”

“And you? Will you be staying or going?”

Chris looked to you with one eyebrow raised. Your eyes met, and you saw the question in them. It was a mix of a question and a challenge. He expected you to answer. It would give you the control of the situation, and it would also make it so you’d have to blatantly turn him down in front of his face rather than ignoring him as you’d been doing the last few days. You bit your bottom lip and took a deep breath. You had enough balls to turn him down right here. You’d done worse to other guys—a lot worse. The question was, did you want to do it to him.

When you locked eyes with him again, an amused smile spread across his lips. You bit your bottom lip again and sighed.

“He will be staying,” you answered.

The waiter looked to you then to him and nodded. Chris slid into the booth before you still keeping eye contact. The longer he looked at you; the more unnerved you became.

“All right, what can I get you sugar?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@chaneajoyyy @caramara3 @sonjashuterbugjohnson @dangerouslovefanfic @maxcullen @momobaby227 @night-of-the-living-shred @naturalthrone22@redhairedfeistynerd @thotti3evans @jovanaprime @queenoftheworldisdead @queenshikongo3 @euh-say-what @mrsbarnes-rogers @jd-now-jq now @ashanti-notthesinger @90sinspiredgirl @evemej @minton131 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub@toniilaney @titty-teetee @areubeingserved @kikimiyazaki@nervousninjatheorist @cyntgefel01 @vintageembrace @smediumsmeatbae @naturalthrone22 @livinglifeformemyselfandi @onetwo3000 @ajspencer1892 @theskullgoddess@champagnesugamama @minton131 @pananegra @scoop93535 @try-n-pronounce-it @dumbchick @behindthesehazeleyes27 @blackmissfrizzle @nervousninjatheorist@dangerouslovefanfic @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls@thinkxlovexloud @chris-butt @starlite-starbrite @alyxkbrl@angrybirdcr @d1ff3r3nt-b34uty-official @twinx007 @a-dizzle777@ab-baybay @patzammit @kreolemami @aysha1447 @cutewylie @disaster-rose @wondersofdreaming @lo-cheu @livinglifeformemyselfandi @magdelen69 @snowpiercer21 @renfrewscorner @thevelvetseries @mery-be @hakunalive4eva @anandalambert @youurkryptonite @mizcaptainphoenix @bobbdylann @emilykjhgsj @littlepreciousangel @ssaarroonn @thummbelina @sweetlittlegingy @art-estrange @torntaltos @rynabarnesrogers @rororo06 @anotherblackfangirl @bernie-k @theonewithherheadintheclouds @hista-girl @coldmuffinbanditshoe @jennmurawski13 @deathstroke-terminated-deez-guts @shadyskit @someone-really-bored @thejemersoninferno @itsallyscorner @cristinagronk16 @shakemeupthanks-blog @acciolove724@straightforwardly @zsuzstyina @acevansss @evansgirl7 @rdjparker @deadlymistress24 @sunkissedebony97 @turn-thy-paige @amelatonin @nerdybitchpudding @amennariee @shar74nett @likesfairytales @vintageembrace @maverickabull @est1887 @periodtcevans @thotti3par7on @productofchina @winchwm @jesseswartzwelder @pivictorious @anat2507 @euh-say-what-now @raveviolet @actorinfluence @sadishdelray @ljstraightnochaser @041802 @evermcfearless @tashawar @dwights-new-plague @miss-jackson500@renfrewscorner @baby-iyania @brwnsugababe @evansshine @spideydobrik @laketaj24 @munteanhore @almosttherebutnot @priya212 @richonne4life @cyntgefel01@brownskinafro @chrissbabybunny @simply-heaven @queenoftheworldisdead @chrisevansfanfic @bforbbgirl @wowthatsbrazy @thejeneralvicinity @doublesidedscoobysnacks @richonne4life @cyntgefel01 @supernaturalvikingwhore @blackgurlkillinit @fanfictionaffair @sia2raw @nervousninjatheorist @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison00 @rynabarnesrogers-reading @lady-x-red @ibe-erynn @nakusaych9 @madixii @chrisevansdaddycap @zsuzstyina @kittykatlow @queenshikongo3 @beccacupcakesxo @nakusaych9 @xoxloaveasre @naturalthrone22 @blackgurlkillinit @littlepreciousange @queenshikongo3 @blackmissfrizzle @supernaturalvikingwhore @littlepreciousangel @purplehairgawdess @readsreblogsfics @vlvtkyss @misz-adrii @wowthatsbrazy @deadpixie22 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @marvelatthis30 @chaos-crusader @coffeebooksandfandom @vintageembrace @perplexed3001 @iceebabies @smediumsmeatbae @naturalthrone22 @mrsbarnes-rogers @brownskinafro @winchwm @onetwo3000 @sarswilltakeyouout @crist1216 @itsjustyazz @deadpixie22 @cessamjrmr @simply-heaven @offrostandstarlight @shar74nett @cltex84 @minton131 @actorinfluence @nina-sj @mery-be @tenaciousperfectionunknown @chezdricks @fanfictionaffair @unknownmystery22 @marvelfansworld @pananegra

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.***

#In The Act fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x ofc #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years ago

Text

study abroad

frat jj x reader

words: 1625

warnings: drinking, cursing

synopsis: you study abroad and jj confuses the new pledge class

a/n: more fluffy frat!jj

One fall semester, your program offered a study abroad opportunity that would be partially paid for. You had never left the country before and practically jumped at the chance. Who wouldn’t take a whole semester in Australia?

Your parents were on board, and so was JJ, who you were actually worried would be upset at the prospect of you leaving for months. He was so encouraging, said that technology existed for a reason and you could FaceTime as much as possible. With his blessing, you put down the deposit and got to work preparing for the move.

The day you left, JJ dropped you off at the airport with your bags. He hugged you for a really long time and the kiss was a little bittersweet. It was going to be fun, but you couldn’t help but wish JJ was coming with you. Both of you cried a little bit upon separating, unbeknownst to the other.

It was tough getting adjusted at first, with the time change and the new location and missing your friends, family, and JJ. Meanwhile, JJ was trying to get used to not having a lunch date between classes. He ate alone a lot and sent you snapchats of his food and the empty seat across from him. You sent him snaps from the beach because it’s one of your favorite weekend trips to take together.

Eventually school picked up for you and JJ got swept into all of his Recruitment Chair duties as Rush Week approached. You got a lot of snaps from John B and Pope of him asleep in the living room of the frat house with papers scattered around him. It was cute how serious he was taking it.

When the two of you did have time, JJ holed up in his room to FaceTime you. He wanted you to have his whole focus since your time together was limited. You told him about learning to surf, the new bar your friends brought you to, and how difficult it was to understand new slang sometimes. JJ updated you about the pledges, the events they were planning, and how much he despised his chemistry professor.

Because he never talked to you in the general area of the house, none of the new pledges had ever heard or even seen you before. You became sort of a mythical figure amongst the pledges. They knew JJ supposedly had a girl he was in love with, but they couldn’t be sure that you actually existed.

John B and Pope found it hilarious that JJ kept you so close that it created a sort of lore, so they stayed silent to keep the uncertainty alive. JJ unknowingly kept it alive while drunk. One night, he lost three beer pong games in a row and pouted, slurring about how his partner was all the way in Australia and he couldn’t win without you. The pledges were just constantly confused about who this mystery person was.

One day he seemed angrier than usual and the pledges were wary around him. They weren’t sure what was wrong, only that he kept staring at his phone as if waiting on someone to call him. Finally, it lit up and so did his face. JJ stood up quickly from the couch and answered, “Babe, happy anniversary!” while speed walking toward his room.

“Babe?” one of the pledges asked, confused.

Pope overheard a different one ask, “Wait, did we know Maybank had a girl?”

They quickly learned that if he was upset, all it would take was one phone call from mystery girl to put him in a better mood. They weren’t sure where you were or how he knew you, but there was a betting pool.

Guesses included:

1. Mail order bride

2. Sugar momma

3. Made up or prank

John B found their board and laughed his ass off while they scrambled to hide it. JJ was totally unaware of all the conspiracies surrounding you. He was just going about his semester, missing you, talking to you as much as he could.

You also sent him a lot of postcards. One time you showed him your magnet collection and he talked about how he’d never collected anything. After that you started finding fun postcards for him. While abroad, you sent him as many interesting ones as you could find.

Occasionally, the pledges would see them in the mail and know that JJ was likely going to be in a good mood, which was always good. Especially when midterms rolled around and JJ was struggling through chemistry. They’d never seen him so upset. But then, a postcard arrived in the mail and he immediately perked up and disappeared to his room, phone in hand.

There was another point where you planned to come visit on a school break and the plans fell through. JJ didn’t take it well at all, he missed you so damn much but he understood. He was miserable to be around for a week after he found out though, and the pledges were scared to come visit the house for a while.

A few weeks before finals, you were feeling burned out and you missed JJ so much, so you called him while he was studying in the living room. There was a group of pledges also studying in the corner, watching him try to console you. He ran his hand through his hair, “You’ll be home soon, right, and then we can hang out all the time. Just get through these next few weeks.” The pledges exchanged confused looks.

And then Christmas break happened, everyone went home, including you. The plan was for JJ to pick you up from the airport, and he found out one of the pledges needed a ride for a flight the same day, so he offered to drop him off.

The pledge just thought he was just being weirdly nice until JJ parked instead of dropping him off, and grabbed a bouquet from the backseat. He grabbed his suitcase and cleared his throat to get JJ’s attention, “Hey who are the flowers for?”

“Oh, I’m picking someone up,” JJ told him, impatiently checking his watch.

“Right,” the pledge mumbled, and started dragging his suitcase to the airport entrance.

You came home with a nice tan, a new tattoo, new slang, and cravings for snacks not available in America. JJ welcomed you with open arms and refused to let go. You and JJ were inseparable for two weeks, catching up.

He gave you a tour of the frat house, he’d moved in after you already left. It was big and messy, but JJ was obviously proud of it and you let him have it. It did at least have a kitchen which your dorm didn’t, so you had to give him that.

You’d met John B, Pope, and the other three brothers living in the house, and they were okay with you spending a lot of time there, especially since you were willing to make food for them. You were happy to do it if it meant you didn’t have to eat fast food or cafeteria food. So with that, you got a free pass to the house whenever.

One afternoon, after a particularly hard day for JJ, he passed out on the couch after the gym. He wasn’t answering his phone or his texts, so you called John B to figure out what was up. John B told you that JJ was just going to try to sleep it off, but you should probably come by to help talk him through it.

Like the great girlfriend you are, you went. And that’s how the pledges met you. Some of them were sitting at the house, desperately avoiding the room JJ was sleeping in. You walked in and shut the door a little too hard for comfort, some of them winced, heads snapping over toward the living room JJ was sleeping in.

They weren’t sure who you were, only that JJ had finally gone to sleep and they didn’t really want to face his reawakened wrath. You didn’t know they didn’t know who you were, so you just walked past without acknowledging them, into the living room.

The pledges followed nervously, unsure what you were doing. You squatted down near JJ’s head and dropped your bag on the ground next to you. All the pledges winced at the noise and then froze when you actually started shaking his shoulder.

JJ’s eyes opened and they waited for the yelling to start. They were completely unprepared for him to wrap you in his arms with a laugh. You giggled as he squeezed you tight, pulling you onto the couch with him to press playful kisses all over your face.

The pledges were Shocked. They’d never seen JJ like this before. He glanced up to see them all standing in the doorway, staring in disbelief. JJ raised his eyebrows, “Can I help you?”

“I – “ one of them started.

“Who is this?” another asked.

And a third said, “Wait, I didn’t know your girlfriend was real.”

Someone slapped the back of his head for that one. You just had to laugh. JJ squeezed you tightly around the middle one last time and you looked over the group standing in the doorway, “Do they not know who I am? Did you even mention me once while I was gone?”

JJ frowned and searched his brain, surely, they’d seen him FaceTime you at least once while you were abroad. But they hadn’t. He blushed, “I talked about you, I swear, maybe they just weren’t listening.”

You laughed loudly as they all scrambled to introduce themselves. This was something you’d never let JJ live down.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank fluff #frat!jj #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx #sigma chi!jj

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border-spam · 4 years ago

Text

Leech Lord - When it's cold

TW: Dark thoughts, existential dread

Tyreen has always acted like coming here was the best decision she’s made for them, it’s pissed him off more than she’s ever appeared to notice, but then again her pretending like she isn’t picking up on his frustrations is nothing new.

She’s spent years singing this planet’s praises, how she loves everything about it and he should be thankful that his sister got them out of the cage that was their home, but she can’t lie to her twin. Never could, even though it’s not once stopped her from trying.

Troy knows her better than his own scars, and for all her intense skill in bullshitting, he sees through her every time. Even the times he really wishes he didn’t.

She fucking HATES Pandora as much as he does. Hell, maybe even more, her rage always tracked deeper through her bones than his could muster. He’s too tired to hate the way she does, it’s exhausting to burn with that dark a fury for so long.

He told her to her face the day they landed here that this planet was a shithole. He told her he wanted to go home, that staying here was not going to pay off the way she insisted it would for them. He’s told her the same thing practically every day since in one way or another, but she shrugs it off, twists it into a joke, reassures him in that silky smooth purr that it’s not that bad, that the filth of old blood in the sand and choking dry heat is worth it for what they have become.

Stars.

And maybe it would have been worth it if they had just stayed stars like she’d originally wanted, but things have changed over the years. He hates himself for believing her when he knew, just like he always did, that she was lying. Now that goal he worked so hard to reach for them both has been ripped from his grasp, now he’s stumbling behind her again as she demands he turn his cunning towards her new target - to be Gods, and Troy’s not sure he actually wants to be a God… not on Pandora.

He’s heard enough about the deities of this place from the natives to know whatever Pandora sees as holy is something far beyond his pathetic being. Shuddered as Jak-Knife wove myth of the great flood and the hunger beneath the sands, felt nausea snake through his stomach as they described something both terrible and disturbingly familiar. The eyes. The maw.

The great hunger of the mad song.

That’s not who he is even if the thrill of fear that runs down his spine when he considers it is almost pleasure, and it’s not who he wanted to be, if he still remembers correctly at least. The Troy he wanted to be is probably dead now, another desiccated corpse claimed by survival on Pandora. The possibility of that life is gone, he thinks. He’s not even really sure if he’s alive - the Troy he became in the end.

Tyreen says “We” will be Gods when she snares him so kindly in those manipulations whispered like love. “We” used to mean him and her back when they were two parts of the same whole and Mom would remind them how that would never change, but he’s started to really question if it has.

Tyreen’s “We” now rings with the dread of something he can’t quite place.

Nekrotafeyo was beautiful. Cool, rich blues marring into the same violet black you’d catch behind your eyelids just before drifting into sleep. The sky was so many colours at sunset, and plants, animals, all living things gently pulsed with a bio-luminescence that meant night was never true darkness.

Pandora is dead.

It’s just.. sand and jutting rocks in formations that don’t track naturally, that gave him fever dreams for the first couple of years about the things that must have shaped them. The air tastes like chemicals. The dirt is laced with oil, it’s vile. It’s sticky, ravenously hot, freezing cold, and it doesn’t want you to live on it.

He won’t rule Pandora as a deity, he can’t. It’s not made for that.

Pandora is a tomb, and in the back of God-King Calypso’s mind, he’s pretty sure he’ll die here just like the thousands who’ve gurgled his blessed name through their last breath in honor to their Holy Father. He won’t go in a blaze of glory, those are for the good and he’s anything but, he’ll just probably be a corpse his sister uses as a stepping stone to lurch towards her divinity.

That sounds about right for someone like him, and as the years go on, as he realises Seifa is not coming back and his friends are cracking under the burden of his existence in their lives, he thinks about it more and more.

Sometimes, on those icy cold Pandoran nights when he can’t sleep, when he’s been awake days and his eyes feel like their full of grit and joints ache with every breath, he goes outside.

Sanctum is docked near the pinnacle of the Grand Cathedral, like a thorn jutting from the tower of the twin’s shared cloister. It’s so high that the screeching noise of the night city below is almost drowned out by the wind that whistles through the gothic parapets, and sometimes when his kingdom is laced in glittering frost reflecting the glaring neon of the lights that dot the streets, he scales it.

Awkwardly clambers up the side of his ship as the dead weight of that horrible arm pulls at his spine with each twist, fingers fumbling for grip in the little rivets of freezing sheet metal as he hauls his heavy, exhausted body up inch by inch till he reaches the flat of the hull and crawls to the centre.

Throws his coat down and sits on the pooled fabric, pulls his knees up to his chest, closes his eyes, and waits as he focuses on the distorted music and crowd chatter that manages to filter from the metropolis so far below.

Lets the freezing cold air goosebump his bare skin as it leeches his warmth and creeps through the iron of his bracer, straight into his bones. Waits for his lungs to start stuttering out puffs of steamy breath as he begins to shiver under the clear night sky. Waits, and thinks about not having been born.

When he gets just cold enough, he can’t feel his broken body anymore, but he can think so clearly and he wonders if this is what it would be like. Not being in pain. Not living under the mental fog of the cocktail of drugs he relies on now just to ward off the nightmares. Not holding so much pathetic regret inside his ribs.

Not dying, that’s something else, being alive and then deciding to not be is very different and he’s not a coward. He’s not. Just… not having existed in the first place at all.

That’s not the same. That’s very easy to imagine even if you’re not a coward.

If he’d never been born so many people would be so much happier.

Tyreen would be... whole. She’d be pure, wouldn’t she. If he hadn’t taken half of her power the way he did, she wouldn’t be the way she is now. She’s told him that plenty, how it’s his fault. All of it. Mom would never have died. Dad would have stayed full of sunshine and jokes and love. Where would they be now as a family, them and Ty? Travelling the universe? Seeking out siren lore?

Leda wouldn’t be dead. Typhon wouldn’t be abandoned. Tyreen wouldn’t be whatever the fuck he’d helped turned her into. A monstrous god of her own making, or a sad child crying for her parents. He’s not sure which.

Troy has damaged so many people by being alive and there’s no goodness from it. There’s no payoff, no benefit. What’s the point of it? He’s broken. The power he stole doesn’t even work, so what was it all for? What’s he done bar cause pain and death just by existing?

Is that not exactly what a parasite does?

The COV wouldn’t exist if he’d never. The billions they’d affected would be all the better for it really, despite what they tell each other about “bettering” the lives of Pandora’s lost and the galaxy’s lonely.

Eli and Ven would have found someone better to seek help from, wouldn’t they. The Oracle wouldn’t be the shadow of himself that he is now, exhausted and so sad. Jak-Knife would probably be leading their own clan, not babysitting a pathetic excuse for a man that worked them to the bone while simmering with jealousy towards how much he wished he was them.

Seifa…

If he’d died on Seifa’s ship, where would she be? Somewhere warm and nice where when it rained the water was refreshing and not a slurry of red dust. With someone who deserved her.

He knows where she is now, a station he wouldn’t punish someone by exiling them to… and it was his fault she was there.

The back of his mind agrees that he is the crux of so much pain. He’s the one that’s the cosmic mistake.

Sometimes he’d like to ask Leda, she’d know the answer. Mom had known everything when they were small, had the answer to every curiosity or confusion from little minds, so he tries to. Whispers a question he doesn’t even understand to the stars through chattering teeth. He wishes she could hear him.

He’s always relieved when she can’t.

The cold defeats him in the end, every time. His body forces him to struggle to his feet and stiffly begin the climb back as the city below starts to quiet, shimmying slowly down the hull between handholds that bite into his icy fingers as the wind howls.

There’s a fleeting thought whenever he’s slowly picking his way down to the entry port that it would actually be really easy to slip, and he’s surprised it hasn’t happened yet. THAT would be the kind of ending he’s going to get anyway, one stupid little mistake from a hand he can barely feel, and all that would be left of him would be a mess for some poor fucker below to clean up.

He smirks at it, but knows in reality his traitorous wings would save him.

The port airlock hisses open and he stumbles into the warmth of his ship every time, he doesn’t fall, he doesn’t cease, he just passes out in the cocooning dark of his bedroom.

It’s survival instinct that does it, that makes him move and forces him back inside, but he still goes outside on those freezing nights, because maybe one night... it finally won’t.

Not that he’d get to be that lucky, he’s got a cult to run in the morning, and Tyreen would never forgive him anyway.

#Borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #leech lord #my writing #my hcs #seifa

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amiramorozova · 3 years ago

Text

Dual Summoner x The Darkling pt. 44

pairing: Dual Summoner Amira Silina x Darkling General Kirigan/ Aleksander Morozova

word count: 2196

I wasn't sure how long I slept that night, or what time it was before I even woke up but I could feel the shift in the bed as I yawned covering my mouth. I felt a kiss on my cheek as he got near my ear "Well, Mrs. Morozova good morning." He whispered in my ear as I laughed a bit and I adjusted to look at him kissing him. "Good morning Aleksander." I said

I got up from the bed as I started to get my undergarments back on and then I chose to wrap myself in my kefta to cover up in case we had company. I knew our meals would soon be arriving and that was important to be decent. I heard the sound of him getting his pants on as his buckle was clear as I looked out the window. I knew things were different now, they would never be the same. As I felt his arms go around me as he looked out the window with me.

"From now on, we are in this together. Morozova's amplifiers are to be united as soon as we can get the other two." Aleksander said as I sighed. "When do we set out to get the next one?" I asked knowing that this was my life now. I was doing this willingly as a knock could be heard on the door and we both looked over. "Enter." Aleksander said as Genya opened the door to see us. Bowing she had a bag "An outfit was prepared for her to wear under her Kefta." Genya said as Aleksander nod. "Prepare my wife for her day." Aleksander said as he walked away in his general attire to do things.

Genya walked over to me as I took the bag seeing the attire as I took it to his bathroom and changed while I walked out with my Kefta in my arms. Genya nod as I put the kefta on soon afterward and I looked in his mirror seeing the Kefta that Genya had presented last time with the darkling symbol over my heart. "It's fitting." I said as I took a seat and she started to take her things from her kit and she smiled. "I hope your wedding night wasn't too bad." Genya said

I thought about last night and knew it was exactly as it should be, things were going to go well. "It was perfect, I just.." I said as I knew the desire to be pregnant was there but it did not mean such things. "What?" Genya asked as I looked at her with a smile. "I just want to have a family and try not to feel such pressure of the fold." I admitted. Genya seemed surprised but I guess that was to be expected as I laughed a bit. "Don't look so surprised, don't we all want a family someda-..." I realized I was crossing a line with this, Genya had endured a lot from the King. I wanted to free her from the Queen but that wasn't in my power yet.

"I will find a way to free you Genya." I said as she continued to work, I noticed she wasn't in the white but red. I wondered if the King was putting an attack on her, I knew there was going to be a movement but I needed to go. "You seem to be in a lot of thought." Genya said, "It's almost time to go after the 2nd amplifier soon, I don't need all this power when I've worked for what I've had." I said, "Well, he is taking you back by the fold soon. He wants to wait till the next Winter Fete before we all go." Genya said

I hadn't even been paying attention but I just shrugged a bit before getting up just after she was done. I turned and looked at her Kefta seeing it was the corporaleki red. "You were given the Red Kefta." I said, "I never liked this shade of red, it clashes with my hair." Genya said, but I knew what this meant to her. She led me to an area where she showed me a box and I looked at it seeing letters as I saw they were opened and she showed me as I picked it up seeing they were Alina's letters. "Why do you have Alina's letters to someone named Mal?" I asked her as she sighed. "General Kirigan thinks it would be best to help her let go of her old life." Genya said

No wonder Baghra told me to give my letters to her. He might have done that with me. I thought

"What if this Mal is her soulmate?" I asked as Genya sighed, "She won't know who her soulmate is, if she can't even use her power." Genya said. I knew that if Alina couldn't even use her power that was true but she was holding back. I had to accept that this might be the best plan but I went back as I looked for a bit seeing letters as I found they were opened seeing Mal had written to her.

Tracker, Corporal of the 36th division. Nico was a tracker, corporal of the 35th division how weird that two trackers with the same unique gift. I thought

I left walking away as I knew there wasn't a lot I had to do at the moment going about my day as I would any other day. Never alone, now that I was his wife Marie and Nadia were full guardians graduated with the roles. We were not to split up and Nico was to be the tracker who could track my movements if we needed to be.

The few days that passed were boring but the nights were entertaining in other ways. One day Aleksander had to leave for a bit as we walked down and I wondered if this was a joke but then as we walked I saw his carriage. I sighed a bit as he turned and kissed me "I will be gone a week, you are in charge of the Grisha in my absence Amira." Aleksander said

I knew this was what he had to do but I still hated it, but I nod knowing that there wasn't much I could say. I knew as the General's wife I could go with him bu the 2nd army needed me here with everything going on. My family was here within the little palace and the 2nd army needed a leader. As I watched him go in the carriage as I knew he was even having a hard time walking away from me as I watched the carriage soon leave. Alina came out as she noticed me and I looked at her.

"Hi Alina." I said to her as she looked at me probably seeing I wasn't in the best mood as I looked at my wrist watching as his initials were fading with the distance he was getting from the little palace. I kept watching until they completely disappeared from my wrist but I knew there was always my dreams. "Are you ok Amira?" Alina asked as I put on a smile and nod. "Come on, let's see what your progress has been you've been here a few weeks now." I said

I led her to where the other summoners were and we walked down the path that grass had grown since I last walked down it. It felt odd but the girl who would walk down this path was a lonely girl who had to practice the sun alone. "You came down this path before?" Alina asked, "I was a lonely girl who had to hide her sun powers. I found being alone more comforting sometimes and lonely at the same time." I said as we made it seeing it hadn't changed. I put my hands together as I formed the sun and circled it around me as Alina saw how vibrant my sun powers were and I watched as she put her hands together and formed a ball as she separated into two but then she tried to circle it around herself as I did but it wasn't very strong. "How do you do it?" Alina asked as I let mine go.

We both sat down in the grass as I sighed, "As Baghra told you, I've had ten years to master my powers. In fact the day that marks eleven years will be coming up and I'll be nineteen by then but my father worried the risk of the Dual Summoner being found out so he thought I was safest here." I said as I knew Aleksander would be back before my birthday. "It was lonely but over time Baghra took me under her training, she didn't treat me the same as others. She treated me as family but she reminded me if she was going to train her own son when he was my age that she would treat him the same way."

Alina remembered that General Kirigan was Baghra's son, something we'd told her when she admitted I was going to be her daughter-in-law. I slid my finger across my collarbone as it glowed slightly from where I absorbed the stag's necklace. "You really do have the amplifier." Alina said, "Yes, but we can get you an amplifier. It can't be Morozova's amplifiers though, the three from what I've learned are supposed to be together but there are other amplifiers." I said

Alina seemed hesitant but we went to the library where we started to look over the amplifiers. "Interested in the amplifiers?" A familiar voice said as I looked over seeing the apparat, "Sol Koroleva, you seem surprised to see me back around the little palace." The apparat said approaching noticing "We are still friends, Sankta Amira?"

Alina must have noticed my hesitation as she felt it too but he noticed the book we were looking at over other amplifiers. "Looking for an amplifier?" The apparat asked. "My friend Alina is interested in one." I said as he seemed to look and notice we didn't pull out the book of Morozova's amplifiers. "Not interested in the mythical stag?" The apparat asked as I looked down at the book. "The Stag was found, it's been killed so it's not an option for my friend." I said though this man had creeped me out, I had been in here since I was a kid reading up on the lore of the stag for years and I still felt it even with the amplifier within me it felt like the stag was still alive in a way. I knew the apparat had wanted to be friends, it was how he approached me when I had first come in here one day.

"You wear black now Sol Koroleva, the general's color." The apparat said as I rubbed my thumb over my wedding ring. It was the only way I felt a sense of peace now that Aleksander was gone for a week but we kept looking. "Did you kill the stag to get the amplifier?" The apparat asked as I knew he probably suspected I had it. "No, I sparred it's life. It turns out that there was something in the books that they didn't know. It's not the Grisha who kills the animal gets it's power, it's also given to the Grisha they choose to weild that power." I said without looking at the apparat.

We found a few that Alina decided were good enough for her, but I knew we needed a tracker to find it. When we were leaving the library the apparat stopped us as he offered a book to Alina. "A present to mark the start of friendship. Maybe they will be calling for Sankta Alina and Sankta Amira together to destroy the fold." The apparat said. We were able to leave but I had to wait a few days before sending out the request to find the amplifier.

Hopefully, Aleksander is doing ok. I thought

I wasn't sleeping as well as I could have, Aleksander would show up in my dreams and he knew of my request to send out the request to others to look for that amplifier but not kill it. With his approval, I was only able to send it that way. Still, I felt so useless at the moment as all I wanted was him. I knew that was fair being we hadn't been married long and duty called but still, it upset me.

Waiting for this week to be over was the worst part, I kept to myself most of the time but watched Alina as she improved. News of Prince Nikolai going away temporarily was heard of and I didn't mind knowing he was trying to persuade me but I had made my choice. I was also very careful with the apparat back which I had informed Aleksander with the connection we had with our dreams. He was not happy to hear about that but it didn't seem to bother him.

we'll get through this. I thought

Taglist: @lifeisingrey

#alina starvok #aleksander morovoza #general kirigan #dual summoner #Amira Silina #darkling x reader #darkling #the darkling #team darkling #shadow and bone #grishaverse #shadow and bone fanfiction #ben barnes #sunsummoner #tidemaker #fanfic

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