#RIP my star wars fixation. its still there. its not resting.

[doctordoombignaturals]

art summary time YAAAY ^_^ 🎉🎉 Look At My Shit, Boy.

[deareddie]

you drew stars around my scars

for @grcywvren and @nymika-arts

buck/eddie, 1.5k

warning: depictions of violence and blood

When Eddie was six years old, he fell off of his bike for the first time.

His knees had hit the pavement hard and fast, scraping themselves raw and stinging with bitter regret at having ever removed the training wheels. He remembers looking down at his previously unblemished skin as the blood ran down his leg and painted it red, and for a moment, being too stunned to even cry as he was forced to face the fact that the world he'd felt so close to conquering as he sailed down the street, pumping those pedals, was not quite as kind and malleable as he'd thought.

It was only a split second, of course, before his juvenile brain had fixated on the much less profound fact that he was hurt and bleeding, and he'd cried for his mother who came rushing out into the street. He remembers the way she fretted -cleaning the dirt and loose stones out of the wound and patching him up carefully, all the while muttering that she really hopes this doesn't leave a mark.

He wonders what that past version of his mother would think of the person standing in the mirror in front of him now, notches all over his skin from all the ways that same harsh world has tried to fight against him since.

He finds himself idly tracing the scar on his wrist as he stares at his reflection, trailing soft fingertips over the rough flesh and remembering the way the bullet had whizzed through the air; cut through the darkness and struck right into the bone. He's curious to know if his mother ever registered the mark. Or if she'd one day become so desensitized to his pain, after years and years of it, that every time he came home with a few new ones she didn't even bat an eye. He wonders how many it took to get to that point.

His hands move next to the white line along his left palm, pale and stark against the rest of his skin. This is one he'd given himself, years ago, trying to cut open a wounded soldier's shirt and slicing his own hand open instead. It bled heavily, running out of the cut in crimson streaks, but he'd barely even registered the pain, bandaging it up quickly and returning to his work. No time to fuss.

Finally, he moves his fingers up to his forearm. To the still-healing cut that he'd acquired on a call just a few weeks ago, when a piece of debris had fallen from the ceiling and ripped through the fabric of his jacket, slicing into him and causing warm blood to trickle down through the sleeve. Hen and Chimney had patched him up easily, and he hadn't thought much of it after that.

There are others; marks all along his body, from cuts and scrapes and wounds from the war, some of which even he can't remember the stories to. It's almost funny, really, in contrast to the way his six-year-old self had sat and stared at his injury, that he's now got such a collection he can hardly differentiate between them.

He supposes he can't blame his mother for becoming familiar with the violence against him when he himself has done the same.

Eddie's not sure how long he stands there, contemplating his past as vague, distant memories fill the back of his mind. But he's broken from his thoughts when the half-open bedroom door swings towards the wall, making room for the man standing in the doorway. He glances at Buck over his shoulder, trying to shake all thoughts of pain from his head and come back to the present.

In an attempt to do so, he asks, "Is Christopher asleep?"

Buck smiles, the upturn of his lips laced with affection. "Out like a light," he says.

Eddie can't help but smile back slightly at the image it creates in his mind. His son, fast asleep just down the hall. Safe in this home, right where he's supposed to be.

"I remember the days when he wouldn't even let you read him a story."

Buck laughs, filling the room with something a bit warmer than the cold swirl of memories that Eddie had been caught up in. "Well, that was before he found out that I can do the funny voices."

"How times have changed," Eddie muses.

"Indeed," Buck hums as he steps further into the room and closes the door behind him, looking pleased at the thought that time has worked kindly in his favour. To bring him closer into this family; to make him a part of it. 

It strikes Eddie, sometimes, just how different his life is from what it was less than a year ago. That just ten months previously, the way Buck is moving to stand behind him in the mirror, curling playful fingers around the hem of his shirt, was nothing more than a distant wish. A desire kept hidden beneath layers of apprehension.

But somewhere along the line, that changed. At a certain point he drew himself out so thin with his longing that everyone could see right through him, until he had no choice but to tear his emotions from where they'd bubbled to the surface and pinned themselves to his sleeve and lay them out bare, before Buck caught a good glimpse of his transparency.

His desperate confessions had been met with Buck's own against his lips, and here he stands now, gazing at the reflection of their joint shape, pressed together to spell out their future in a simple truth; this is their life now, and this is their life for as long as they can keep it safe.

It makes him strangely grateful for everything that came before it. For every scrape and bruise and outpouring of blood that made him who he is; led him to Los Angeles, to the 118, to the person standing behind him. And he knows it's not right to feel thankful for his own pain, but there's a part of him that thinks he wouldn't be him without it.

Buck's fingers move upwards, pulling the t-shirt up and over his head, displaying more and more of that damaged skin as he goes, and Eddie can't help the way his breath catches ever so slightly in his throat when he catches sight of his newest scar.

The mark on his shoulder -still red and raised from where the bullet made its impact, with a matching one on the back from the way it had ripped right through him. Buck's gaze follows his in the mirror and lands in the same spot, concern in his eyes melting into understanding as he recognizes Eddie's train of thought. A small sigh escapes Buck's lips as he remarks, "Almost a year now, huh?"

Eddie nods soundlessly, images of blood and flashing sirens and frantic eyes suddenly filling his mind as he stares at the circle of rough skin. This is one that he could never forget the story to; could never forget the way he fell, the way hot searing pain had rippled through his body, the way Buck had crawled beneath the truck, rushed towards him and-

-touched him. Just like he's doing now. But this time, as Buck's fingertips move up to trace the now-healed wound, there's no pressure to his touch. No desperate fear trying to keep Eddie's life force inside. No, the way he touches him now is almost reverent. Like he too is remembering the day that this was the most sensitive part of Eddie's body, and is now in awe that the skin is still warm beneath his hands, blood pumping through his veins exactly where it's supposed to be.

And here's the thing; Eddie is used to violence. To war and wounds and horrors beyond most people's comprehension. To events that leave a mark in more ways than one. Hell, there was a time when he knew the cacophonous sound of spraying bullets better than he knew his own son's voice.

What he's not used to is this; the gentle caress in the aftermath. The whisper of another person's skin ghosting along the site of impact like it's something fascinating. Something to be worshipped. As though the scar is more than ugly, garish skin; it's a mark of survival, of a life given a second chance.

"You're a wonder, you know," he hears himself say, as Buck tilts his head down to press a kiss to his shoulder.

Buck hums. "I'm just glad you're here, that's all."

Eddie forces back the lump in his throat at the simple adoration lacing the words. Swallows back the emotion threatening to spill from his lips and says, "Me too."

Buck smiles at him in the mirror. Eddie turns in the circle of his arms and presses a kiss to those upturned lips, overwhelmed with gratitude at whatever force had given them the opportunity to have this life together.

Buck's hands move from his shoulder, down to his hands and squeeze as he suggests, "Let's go to bed."

And so they curl up together in the same space they've spent countless nights, completely entwined and secure in each other's embrace. Safe behind these walls, away from all things that hurt and scar.

[attollogame]

I decided to do a wrap up of The Idol to allow a perspective into why Sysba might be so guarded, so please enjoy!!!

Warnings for blood, violence, and death.

The temple is burning, and they are dancing through a field of corpses. Red stains their fingertips like Alta, and it drips onto the soil to sew itself within the earth. They walk, slow and leisurely like a predator, right up until the moment they smell smoke.

Their head snaps back from the foreign soldier with their lips smeared with gore that dribbles down their neck and they grimace, bearing their teeth to the blotted out sun. Their eyes are blacker than the night and they know that the sight of them alone, poised above the broken bodies of their fellow man, would drive any sane soldier to misery.

The look of terror that washes across their face may remedy that, though.

It takes all of a moment for them to bolt away from the body towards the pillar of smoke that plumes its way into the sky. They leap and they dance and they weave their way between man and animal alike, avoiding swords and hands. The public square is filled with people scrambling to get away from the blaze; Sysba’s throat burns as they inhale the ashes, the dying remedies of a world they once owned.

The people around them are not what is on their mind, though; it is the person who is absent that is.

Sysba has not taken a human form during the day in years, preferring to meet Malchus through dreams, or to watch him afar in the form of a simple songbird. The only time Sysba ever took on a human form was at night, when they crept into Malchus’ room and sought the comfort that only he could ever provide.

A woman gripping a child slams into Sysba’s shoulder, knocking them off guard, and a snarl rips from their lips. When the woman looks back and catches a glimpse of their face—as pale as a corpse and smeared with more gore than the ground they stand upon—she freezes in place and stares at them, trembling.

Sysba gazes at her for a moment, taking in her dark hair and wide brown eyes, before twisting around and continuing their pursuit. For the first time in 400 years since they came to this earth, fear thrums through their veins, pushing them to go faster than they ever have before. The world passes by them in a blur; burning houses, overturned carts, the Temple of Apollo stripped down to its core. Whereas once they would have drunk in the spoils of war, now it does nothing but sickens them.

When they reach the temple, it only gets worse.

---

Malchus had retired as a temple cleaner, but that does not mean he had retired from the temple itself. Despite what had happened, he had continued to go to the temple to recount stories to the children of the devotees and workers. Sysba could recall many nights where they murmured in his ear that he should cease his association with them. Malchus would turn, dark eyes unfocused in the shadows, and would extend a hand to brush it along Sysba’s cheek. His lips would curl into a smile—such a fond look to give them, a monster—and he would whisper, “only for a bit longer”.

He had aspirations to leave one day, to go to a place where Sysba would be able to tell him all of the stars in the sky until his dying breath. Sysba had, for the first time in their life, felt hope that such a paradise could become true.

As they stare up at the burning temple, they feel foolish for believing in such frivolous things.

The foreign soldiers, a fleet of 900, had secured themselves in the temple and ignited a flame that ate ravenously through the dying foundations. For many years, there had been promises to rebuild the temple from the decaying grounds it stood upon, but these were constantly shunted aside for greater ambitions. It seems now that the delay is acting as their downfall.

This is not their problem, though. They lunge forth, running up the steps two for two despite the yells from the soldiers below. Sysba almost hopes that one of them will throw a sword or a spear at their fleeing form, just so they have an excuse to tear the entire fleet apart with their bare hands once they are finished. No one does, though. They simply fall into silence as they watch Sysba vanish into the flames.

---

There is nothing left by the time they get through. The scent of burnt flesh fills their nostrils; it resembles the fragrance of pig fat burning on a pan, and it sizzles like it as well. This, combined with the sulfurous odor of burning hair, causes Sysba’s lips to curl as they shield their eyes from the brilliant flames. They move nimbly over the bodies, now blackened and shriveled in fetus-like positions, all while rushing through possible locations in their mind. Malchus could be in his former bedroom, or the High Priest’s room, or,

…

Sysba pauses, their hand dropping from their face as they come to a stop in the center of the hall. The crackle of burning wood fills their ears as embers dance through the air. They go out quickly when they touch their skin, leaving nothing but a soot mark on pale flesh. Sysba watches them only for a moment before veering right and darting towards the one place they know Malchus is—

The Worship Chamber.

----

The scent of incense and the warmth of the patron god’s presence is gone when Sysba finally kicks open the doors. The marble floors are cracking and charred by the fire, and the ceiling has a plume of smoke hanging around it, like a great smog cloud prepared to descend upon them. They look at it only briefly before their gaze goes towards the entrance.

Once, many years ago, they had guided Malchus down those very steps. His hand had gripped theirs and he had followed them like a loyal lamb, right into a slaughter. Although, rather than slaughter, the lamb had tamed the wolf to be his instead. The memories of his face—so full of trust and warmth as he had walked with them into the abyss—spurs Sysba to move further, and they enter into the cavern with determination in their blood.

The steps are easy; the sound of water rushing down the walls reassures them that the flames have not reached this part yet. The waters of the temple are alleged to have healing abilities, something Sysba knows to be true, and they hope—yet again—that Malchus has found a way to put them to use. Softly, they cup their hands around their mouth and call out into the darkness.

“Malchus, Malchus!” The name bounces off the ceiling as they move, dark eyes scanning from wall to floor, “My heart, please speak to me—please tell me that you are well!”

They do not keep the desperation from leaking into their last words. A myriad of new emotions are stirring in their mind right now; they felt no fear when they faced their creator or when they stood trial before the other gods. They felt no fear when they came to earth, or when they met humans on the same level for the first time.

But now, fear stirs in their gut like a volatile potion, creeping its way up their throat and onto their tongue and leaking out with each soft cry of “Malchus!” that spills into the night. They move further, and further until the halls expand into a chamber and they look up to see stars. Hundreds of small lights flickering on the ceiling above them; the last bits of their power that they had before their exile was completed.

So distracted by the stars are they, that they almost miss the form lying beneath them.

It takes all of a moment, when their gaze slides to that prone figure, for them to realize what it is, and by the time they do, they are already falling to their knees beside it.

“Malchus!” The name spills from their tongue as a cry as their hands come to rest on his shoulders, his chest, soon sliding their way up to cup his face. That beautiful face, which had graced many of their nights with its smile, now rested slack in their palms.

Malchus’ eyes are fixated on the stars above. Sysba knows, even before they realize it, that their unfocused gaze is not due to his blindness this time.

There are no burns on his body, nothing damages his skin, but when Sysba presses their lips against his in a desperate attempt to breathe life back into his still body, they taste smoke. It fills his entire mouth and seems to extend further, as though he inhaled great plumes of it before making his final descent. The cause of his death is clear; Sysba, however, refuses to accept it.

They do the one thing they know they can—they bite down on their thumb, drawing a line of their own black blood,—

And then they pray.

They dig deep into their body, deep into their being, drawing out every ounce of their remaining power that they can. They curl it into a ball so tight that one can hold it in a fist, and they offer it to those that are watching them in nothing but sheer desperation. The Old Ones never abandoned them when they were cast to earth; they continue to exist around them, present just out of sight and touch, and they know that their desperate, silent pleas are being heard.

Yet, nothing happens.

Their blood continues to slide down their wrist, mixing with that of men, and Malchus continues to stare unfocused at the stars above. An unfamiliar sensation trickles its way down Sysba’s cheeks, and when they reach up to brush it away, their hand comes back with black liquid on their palm.

The desperate sob that rips from their lips only punctuates what it is.

The Old One’s told them when they were exiled, that they would take it all away; their power, their form, the stars, the moon, the very things that made them. Never once did it cross Sysba’s mind that the Old One’s would be cruel enough to take away their heart, as well.

And yet, as they double over, as pleas spilled from their lips like gold and they grip Malchus’ shirt and they scream all of their raw pain and sorrow into the night against a backdrop of burning paradise,

It is entirely believable.

[lore-of-the-silvereyes-rwby]

I am power I am due process I will smite

We talked about Ironwood's personality, history, major theories, and his possible origins. Now we will discuss the prime and major aspect of his character that has impacted the story the most. His overall status, power, and abilities as the leader of Atlas Military, Headmaster of Atlas Academy and the major de facto Leader of the entirety of the Atlassian Government and how it has made him lose sight of what he was fighting for.

Status

As a general, Ironwood normally doesn't associate himself with the front lines of combat and usually orders his forces using his tactical know-how and military knowledge. However, when pressed, he is very adept in combat.

In "Remembrance", he has two seats on the Atlesian Council, assuming both seats symbolize as Headmaster of Atlas Academy and General of the Atlas Military, giving him a even greater amount of authority and influence over the Atlesian Council and the Kingdom of Atlas, allowing him to make unilateral decisions such as initiating a Dust Embargo, closing off the Borders of the Kingdom from the rest of the world and even initiate and enforce Martial Law should he deem it necessary.

Rank

This is probably the most difficult to point down and to make a solid argument since the writers haven’t really explored the command structure of the Atlas Military but since they’re claiming it to be the America of RWBY we will be using facts and details of the U.S. Army rank structure as a logical comparison as well as listing the potential base requirements for Ironwood’s current rank and overall status.

Takes 30 years average to achieve the rank of [a 4 star] General

Candidates for Flag officers (General ranks) must have over 22 years of service as an officer

3 years in grade as a colonel to qualify for flag promotion(Time In Service at best 25 years for earliest promotion)

Atlas equivalent of the US chairmen of the Joint chiefs of Staff (Must be a 4* Gen)

As well as the Secretary of the Department of Education

Most likely achieved the rank and status of General 1-4 years prior to his debut in V2 (Assuming his age is somewhere between 47-50)

With these facts for both his status and rank it's quite clear that potentially Ironwood hasn’t had much time or experience being a leader or General. As I stated before in the Chosen one section chances are that Ozpin or his predecessor have been manipulating Ironwood’s career in order to gain an inside man over what can be assumed to be the most unstable Kingdom on Remnant ready to wage war. Because of this It has led Ironwood to descend further down into his ego and narcissism as he would see his fast success as his own accomplishments that he achieved on his own with his power, instead of the truth that it was all handed to him by Oz. Because of that Ironwood has thought of himself better than Oz and believes in his own hype as his power increased.

The source of his power

With his rank and status aside let's now discuss the source of his power and how it solidifies Ironwood’s overall role in the plot.  The source of his power being his complete and total authority over his home Kingdom of Atlas. This is the only reason why he is even the plot in the first place. He is the de facto leader of the world’s strongest and advanced Military that is allied with the main heroes. The main heroes didn’t come to him for a plan nor did they come to him because he has some special power, they came to him just to get access to his army. That is the entirety of his role. He is supposed to be the guy that is supposed to lend his assets for the heroes, specifically the assets of Atlas entirely.

Now, Atlas is a country with very strong military and technology, isolated and far away from all the other countries. Despite the strong military, it is limited in number,  resources, and assets. Since Ironwood came to power he has hoarded almost all of them and gives the world the bare minimum. Not because it is limited or because he is preparing for war but because he  believes that he is the only one that can win. He wants to be the hero. Ironwood’s overall power stems from the consent of the people to his authority, and their willingness to die for him and his cause.

He needs people to make his plans happen.  He needs people to make his war machines. He needs them to supply his army with troops willing to die for him. But more importantly he needs people to validate him and his choices in order to fuel his ego and his “For the Greater Good '' mantra as well as to fuel his false sense of chosenness. He’s a barely competent General who genuinely wants to protect & win for the sake of others, but he is not a noble leader of his or any people who he will use to get the mission done.

Individual Powers & Abilities

His overall combat and abilities are pretty standard to $417 honestly. In comparison to other RWBY fighters I would have to say that Ironwood isn’t in the top 10 or top 100 of the World's best warriors. Decent skills maybe, but nothing new or special that would make him stand out from a regular joe combat wise.

Semblance

To start, let's discuss the key element of RWBY’s combat system that gives it its uniqueness; Semblances.  Now this is actually a key factor and component to the RWBY lore and Universe as a whole.

A Semblance is the manifestation of one's innate and personal power as an ability unique to each individual, with the effects varying greatly from user to user. With the sheer number of people unlocking their Semblances, it can lead to unrelated people gaining similar abilities. The nature of one's Semblance is noted as representing an aspect of their character.

Basically it's a physical representation of one's soul

(Note due to the vague description of his semblance I had to browse through around to get a solid idea for what his semblance is in a manner that everyone can agree and understand)

Ironwood's Semblance is revealed to be Mettle, which strengthens his resolve and allows him to carry through with his decisions, helping him hyper-focus. His semblance is possibly  “passive”meaning he has no control over it. It also gives him a surge in concentration and pain tolerance so that he can accomplish whatever goal he’s fixated on.

An example of its use on-screen was when he ripped his arm out of the hard-light construct Watts trapped him in during their fight in Volume 7.

It speculative if he does have any control over his semblance or if it works in the same manner as Qrow Branwen’s semblance(Always Active)

One argument saying that it is active is from the lyrics of Hero;

“Our enemies destroy, Mettle I’ll deploy, No chance that I won’t take, My oath to you I won’t forsake”

The words in bold help hint at the possibility that he has some control over his semblance but it does remain unclear whether or not if it's truly passive or not

To help summarize as to what his semblance does; Ironwood's Semblance, Mettle, allows for  temporarily increased brain processing power. This can be utilized to help James hyper-focus, blocking out everything else to help him achieve his goals.

His semblance is also a manifestation of his tenacious character trait and allows for mental health to affect his semblance like everyone else. The changes here are slight, but meaningful and could probably still be worked on to make it sound better.

Also to help better understand here is the definition of Mettle;

A person's ability to cope well with difficulties or to face a demanding situation in a spirited and resilient way.

His semblance is probably ideal on the battlefield but not much in terms of Administrative and/or Political issues

His semblance isn’t exactly ideal or overall useful in most fights since it's possible that he can’t control it

As well as it does seem to be a self indulgent power that only benefits him in regards to his psyche and nervous system

With that in mind I think Ironwood would have to find other ways to enforce his power without a semblance in a world where it seems to be a common phenomenon.

Physical

Due to his lack of unique abilities or useful semblance Ironwood would have to focus his efforts on other forms of combat to compensate for his handicap.

One of them being his physical prowess.

Due to his status as General his individual combat efficiency has diminished to an extent due to basically being a military politician.

With that in mind it's possible that Ironwood hasn’t seen active combat on a regular basis since he was a Captain(O-3) which is the most common officer rank in any military as well as the most common rank to be seen on the field of combat in comparison to ranks above that.

In other words his combat experience has probably diminished during the later half of his career as the headmaster of Atlas Academy and later when he became The most senior leader of the Army

Given this Ironwood’s personal combat style has been reduced to the basics that he learned during his Basic Military boot camp training.

This is best seen during his fight with Arthur Watts who was possibly also a member of Atlas Military given his surprising combat abilities to be on par with Ironwoods. But this is due to the both of them relying on a mixture of their combat training from boot camp, and the experience from their respective career fields. In this case it's an administrative politician vs a scientific inventor both of whom are in career fields that are non direct combat orientated relying on their shared knowledge and training of basic military combat.

To further add to this an allegory example for the Ironwood vs Watts fight would be a Army mechanic vs Army Sniper. These are both non direct combat careers in the military and are less likely to see any form of close quarters combat that an infantryman would as one works with heavy machinery and repair while the other does stealth and ranged operations.

But if we put these two into a free roam boxing match to the death chances are these two would have to rely on their basic training as their current career paths don’t focus much on CQC or any direct combat. As such the sniper would most likely adopt a fighting style similar to an out-boxer given his light build and frame needed for the stealth part of his career while the mechanic adopts a slugger style given his greater body build needed to lift and operate heavy tools and other manual labor.

The mechanic will also have a need to be direct and end this as quickly as possible as he may be use to a finish by the time quota mentality while the sniper knows that he is physically out matched but uses the speed granted to him by his smaller build to his advantage and tries to tire out the slugger and wait for an opening while the slugger tries to end it all in one hit.

In the case of their fight Ironwood was the slugger forfeiting strategy for brawn and strong one shot finishers, while Watts was the out-boxer who knew he physically stood no chance and focused on tactics and unconventional combat via the terrain settings of Amity Colosseum to tire and weaken Ironwood enough for an opportunity to incapacitate him

Another key aspect of Ironwood’s physical prowess are his Cybernetics.

Now we don’t know when or how he got them but it's quite clear that they were made to enhance his strength evidence from the shockwave that shattered the ground when he and an alpha beowulf parried each other in V3 Chpt.10

So yeah his cybernetics probably have doubled maybe even tripled the strength of his right side.

But sadly these are probably outdated and old as again we don’t know when he got them but they seemed to have been on him for awhile which would make sense as his status would grant him cybernetics that would be advanced for their time but with the down side that he can’t replace them for newer and better models

Evidence for this is when Ironwood had a new state of the art arm made for yang when he probably could have had a new arm made for himself and equipped it onto him, but he can’t cause his cybernetics are permanent and non changeable

As such he’s stuck with prosthetics that can only enhance his strength and nothing else. With unchangeable cybernetics aside let's look at the non cyber part of him and how it may be failing him.

The downside of his human half is that it still ages and with age comes physical deterioration and later mental deterioration. After looking up some medical research human beings start to deteriorate at the median age of 50 and as such start to weaken physically, losing the abilities of their prime

If my estimation of his age is accurate his body is nearing or is already deteriorating and with the added amounts of stress and PTSD may as well caused his mind to deteriorate prematurely as well.

Also his semblance apparently allows him to tolerate pain and damage allowing him to have some form of berserker mode like wolverine(Basically an adrenaline rush)

Also remember its passive and only happens at random so yeah it's not really that useful in long drawn out fights even if it's active.

With these facts in mind Ironwood at present may now be aware of his physical limitations and as such would have to rely on a another form of combat where he would have to rely on others to do his fighting for him

Leadership

Now this is his most defining trait at present that has been explored the most in the show and the center of controversy for his character

As stated before Ironwood lacks any special powers that could give him the edge as well as that his physical body is starting to fail him due to age, greatly weakening his usefulness in a fight.

As such he is left with the only viable option that he has to enforce his will without direct contact.

His command and Authority over others, and their consent to die for him and his needs

In order for him to have this kind of power may have been a result of his leadership style.

His leadership style appears to be a mixture of 3 different types of leadership styles.

These 3 being Autocratic, Authoritative, & Pacesetting with Autocratic being the dominant of the 3

Autocratic

The phrase most illustrative of an autocratic leadership style is "Do as I say." Generally, an autocratic leader believes that he or she is the smartest person at the table and knows more than others. They make all the decisions with little input from team members.(Sound familiar)

This command-and-control approach is typical of leadership styles of the past, but it doesn't hold much water with today's talent.(Times of war maybe?/Times of peace, nope!)

That's not to say that the style may not be appropriate in certain situations. For example, you can dip into an autocratic leadership style when crucial decisions need to be made on the spot, and you have the most knowledge about the situation, or when you're dealing with inexperienced and new team members and there's no time to wait for team members to gain familiarity with their role.(He would be more suited as a mission handler instead of a strategic tactician)

Authoritative

The phrase most indicative of this style of leadership (also known as "visionary") is "Follow me." The authoritative leadership style is the mark of confident leaders who map the way and set expectations, while engaging and energizing followers along the way.( Basically him in V 2 & 3 before things went to $417)

In a climate of uncertainty, these leaders lift the fog for people. They help them see where the company is going and what's going to happen when they get there.(He may be a man of vision poor vision but had a some sense of direction just poorly showed, & executed for others)

Unlike autocratic leaders, authoritative leaders take the time to explain their thinking: They don't just issue orders. Most of all, they allow people choice and latitude on how to achieve common goals.( It’s a 40/40/20 split with this being the least)

Pacesetting

While the pacesetter style of leadership is effective in getting things done and driving for results, it's a style that can hurt team members. For one thing, even the most driven employees may become stressed working under this style of leadership in the long run.(Mantle, Vale and the Heroes are prime examples of that)

Ironwood’s Leadership is quite the mix bag of results

In some situations specifically Combat oriented ones it works and is effective to a certain degree

But for most of the time in situations like politics, commerce, and peace in general it can lead to the worst outcomes imaginable hence all of the conflicts plaguing rwby present

With this in mind it probably won’t take long to realise that Ironwood is an ineffective leader of and for the people

Remember most of the power that he holds now is through the consent of the people

Whether they be soldiers, scientists or civilians they are the only things that keeps him in power as well as make his position of power legitimate in order for him to plan and execute his plans.

Also as evidence from extended sources and media most of the progress and advancements of Atlas have been done through Ironwoods efforts ergo Ironwood has more or less become the main benefactor of the kingdom through their eyes

This however more or less makes him the de facto king of Atlas if you think about it and as most troubles that befall a king it's usually their own pride that can get the better of them especially if they surround themselves with enablers that paint them in a almost god-like light

Also with the added reveal of his semblance It does have a very heavy affect on his mind in terms of decision making but sadly it tends to happen on impulse and isn’t much suited for a political or administrative environment

Sadly he has done a poor job trying to keep the people on his side and as such has justified the revolution to bring down his ineffective & immoral leadership

Effectiveness

Depending on the situation the effectiveness of Ironwood's overall power and command  is moderate to ineffective in all honesty

This mostly stems from the fact that Ironwood’s ego and overall favoritism of his kingdom tends to clash with the general idea of the common goal of peace that is shared with the heroes (Ozpin, Ruby, Oscar, etc) and the world as a whole

As such it has fueled his need to be validated to raging war, even though the results would be catastrophic in order to do so and completely unnecessary

The effectiveness of Ironwood's overall impact on the world is mostly done in self-indulgence as he believes his dreams and goals are what is best for everyone.

In a true totalitarian way unless something can further his power or goals it's good to him, while anything that threatens it is bad to him

This is first seen when he discredited Ozpin as he saw it his way of handling the situation was not ideal even though he is his ally. In doing so he became the head of the security force and further discredited Ozpin to the point that his position as headmaster was in jeopardy. Even though Oz is the leader of the group that is meant to keep the peace in secret as open conflict would result in heavy losses which is what the fall of beacon was. A preview on a small scale as to what could happen had Ironwood his way all the time and the results that it would yield.

By V7 Ironwood acknowledges his failure with the amount of power he had brought, except unlike most people he hasn’t learned anything from the ordeal and continues down a path of paranoia and warmongering. Instead he chooses to find ways that would benefit his power and goals.

Fear and rage aside Let talk about his overall planning and strategy

Most of his plans that have been shown and revealed so far have had a tendency to backfire

The first of his plans that took a turn for the worst was the P.E.N.N.Y. project during the Vytal tournament as well as his power grab at beacon which led to its fall

Okay this is speculative but I do believe Ironwood was field testing Penny for his upcoming war based on dialogue from her in V2 and used the Vytal tournament as a means to do so. Thus turning an event of peace that was meant to celebrate the end of war just to test new weapons for his upcoming war of change.

This accompanied by the army of robot soldiers that he insisted to have as security brought to question the practicality of Ironwood's methods. This is also brought into question as the people are unaware of salem' existence thus from the perspectives of the Vale citizens and the world in general, Ironwood's interference with Vale security would basically be needless foreign intervention, to them that would eventually lead to disaster. Which it did as both were used to portray him and atlas as the villainous force at the fall of beacon and has contributed to salem's plans.

The second of his plans to go off the deep end was the dust embargo and the closing of borders

Though granted with drawing from the rest of the world seemed like a good idea to ease tensions of war but overall it had lasted too long especially if you take into account that Atlas was Remnants source of Industry and main economic and technological center that the world desperately relies on to survive.

This would make it difficult to rally anyone to his side as from their perspective he and by extension his kingdom would only be seen as the ones who left them for dead and would think twice before trusting him with any plan especially one of war.

The third plan of his to go astray was his confrontation with Watts

This isn’t much of a plan but an overview of his strategy during that fight and it could have gone better honestly.

By the way that entire fight was essentially a capture mission for Watts. Which is self explanatory as to why Ironwood didn’t straight out kill watts when he can use him to his advantage so I’ll give credit for forethought of enemy interrogation but the means and execution as to obtain watts were very poor and half thought out

To start where it began to turn to s*** was how he essentially went in alone without backup. Remember he is a General during a time of peace, who at this point probably has very little combat experience to rely on for this fight. I really don't see the point of why he would fight the crazy mad scientist alone when he could have at least had winter with him or a squad of soldiers to assist .Hell even a sniper could have been beneficial. It's not like everyone, was needed to evacuate the city of  mantle.

Which brings me to my second point of the fight; why did it have to be Ironwood to capture watts? From a fan perspective the answer was probably to give a character a good fight scene but in universe why did it have to be the general of the entire army to capture one cyber terrorist. Especially when there are other more qualified fights that have seen more action in a week than Ironwood has in his entire military career. That may be an over exaggeration but as I stated before Ironwoods career shifted from the battlefield to the political and administrative.

Meaning his combat experience has diminished since his 30’s? as he became more focused on running a kingdom rather than micromanaging the battlefield as he used to. So with that in mind Ironwood should have at least thought of someone more capable of capturing Watts than him. He could have sent Winter or Qrow or even the ace opts who probably are more qualified to disarm and detain watts faster and more effectively than how Ironwood’s fight went without complications.

Now we come to the fight itself where Ironwood for no reason drew out the fight longer than it should have been. For example we know that his cybernetics are possibly capable of doubling the strength of his right side. So once Ironwood had gotten within grabbing range of watts after depleting his Aura Ironwood should have at least tried to crush the bones of either of Watts arms thus disarming him and making it easier to detain. He also could have taken a page from Nora and broken his legs thus immobilizing him and limiting Watt’s options of escape.

Maybe Humans are more durable in rwby, than humans of our world but if you need to capture someone alive they don’t have to be in perfect condition. They just need their head intact to give info  and the necessary vital origins needed  to live. They don’t exactly need their arms or legs unless you want to risk the chance of escape from them

Here comes the standoff which is another point that's problematic given Ironwood's intentions. If Ironwood knew Watts was out of ammo why did he just taunt watts instead of making a move to subdue him. Instead of pointing out his enemy was out of ammo he could have shifted his gun a bit and put a bullet in his shoulder and  making his arm useless and make the necessary preparations to capture watts alive without any further risk to himself and probably wouldn’t lead him to flay his only remaining arm to win

(Assuming he was out of ammo as well hence why he was taunting again he has cybernetics that can double his strength if need be which he could have used to break any part of watt’s limbs without further damage to himself.)

Now we come to the final issue of the fight that honestly could have been avoided or at least handled better. Ironwood didn’t necessarily have to sacrifice his remaining arm to get free. He could have tried destroying one or all of the rings that were keeping his arm trapped. I do believe he has the strength in his cybernetics needed to crush the rings no problem. If he couldn’t then he could have shimmed his arm out through the side instead of pulling it out and burning it.

Overall Ironwood had plenty of options to his plan to capture Watts but it was his narrow mindedness that led to the escalation of the fight and cost him greatly when it could have been avoided and ended quickly without much loss.

The only plan that seemed to have been ideal and would have benefited everyone was the Amity project, and restoration of global communications but it had its consequences the way he had led it.

Communication is a very crucial and essential tool needed for any society to help better coordinate and resolve the issues that happen during a crisis. Overall his plan for amity was probably the least Atlas centric that would have benefited the world but his intentions for it and means to obtain it were problematic.

His intentions for the amity project were not based on altruistic or selfless motives but were based on his desire to gain and gather resources for his war with salem. Ironwood wanted to restore global communications just to convince the people of the other kingdoms to rally to him and to fight for his cause.

The means of how he obtained it also lead to problems as he had to siffen off resources from the 2nd impoverished city in the world that needed those resources to help keep it safe just to gain a way to recruit soldiers and acquire more resources needed for his war

This is also furthered by the fact that he intended to reveal a world shattering truth that would cause a lot of negative emotions of disbelief grief and fear that will fill the remainder of the world. Meaning Ironwood knowingly and was willing to cause global panic and take advantage of the chaos that would follow just to further his needs  for war.

That may be speculation but based on the latter half of the plan from A New Approach it pretty much highlights the Values and lengths of Ironwoods Motives and intentions for war and what he may be willing to do to get his way;

Ironwood: Yes, panic is inevitable, and panic brings Grimm. But I believe we are ready. Once Atlas has come to grips with the fight ahead, I'll use Amity Tower to spread the message to all of Remnant.

Weiss: But everything will fall apart. Grimm will be everywhere!

Winter: You're right, but Atlas is willing and prepared to assist.

Ironwood: Trying to hide the truth from the world will eventually kill us all.

So the highlight of his plan will eventually cause more problems and the eventual fall of the other kingdoms especially given their current states

Vale; Beacon infested with Grimm and the Main city on the brink being overrun by them

Mistral has Almost no Huntmen left to help with the kingdoms defense and already struggles with the criminal underworld that plagues the kingdom

Vacuo has no official structure or system of government besides Shade academy which is currently struggles to maintain order with the flooding of students going to it in order to train very much needed huntsman

This in all honesty will just wipe the slate clean and undo almost a century's worth of progress that will only leave what remains, fair game that can be claimed by anyone or to be specific to be claimed by Ironwood and Atlas.

Now I know that's a theory and it would paint Ironwood as a villain but it's not far from the likely truth and motives considering that Everything Ironwood has done has and always been in the best interest of Atlas and since he and the kingdom are synonymous at this point, his best interest as well.

Which brings us to his final and current plan

Abandoning Mantle and Raising Atlas

Okay we all know that this is probably one of the most talked about things that has divided the fandom the most in recent times sparking the debate of the morality and choices of RWBY’s characters. The most of those debates revolved around Ironwood’s current last ditch plan of survival. As it has been debated and analyzed over the last few months everyone has already discussed the pros and cons of the of this plan but I’ll summarize and give my thoughts of this plan as well as point out how it reveals Ironwoods hypocrisy and personal agendas

Pros;

Had everyone gone with ironwood on this plan and left Mantle to die this would at least give the heroes and the military some time to prepare for the next engagement should it come

while at the same time keeping at least 2 of the four relics away from the villains.

And the Winter Maiden as well

Cons;

This however would only be a short term retreat as eventually the city will need resources to sustain themselves as well as to gather even more resources to meet Ironwoods war demands.

But when it comes to getting those supplies the other kingdoms would have heard at this point how atlas abandon its own citizens and thus deny them the supplies needed.

This would also play into salem's hands as its not unlikely that she would spread the news of Mantles demise to turn the other kingdoms against Atlas

With this in mind and Ironwoods decent into extremism and desperation this would lead to atlas having to forcibly extort the other kingdoms for resources further playing into salem's hands and starting Remnants 2nd great war and all salem has to do from here on out is watch the world burn and wait for an opportunity.

If that outcome seems unlikely then lets cover another possible outcome of this plan succeeding but with this question; What happens to Remnant in the absence of Atlas?

Assuming that Atlas is self-sustainable as Ironwood said this would eliminate the need to make contact with the surface and need of supply runs.

However this also highlights the possibility that once Atlas is far and high enough Ironwood most likely won't return to help aid the rest of the world

As invoked by Oscar, raising Atlas will mean Salem will have free reign to slaughter the millions of people left on Remnant.

The truth;

Oscar says this not only to convince Ironwood not to abandon Mantle but not to abandon the world as well. When he said this Oscar is trying to convince Ironwood that it's not a lost cause and run away as that would only lead to further lost and the world ever closer to Salem’s rule should Ironwood run now(Like Raven did)

This is also given more credibility as when Ironwood abandoned his original plan for amity which was intended to reunite the kingdoms

Taking this into account and his plan there doesn’t appear to be any hint or motivation to return to or go to the other kingdoms for help or anything once Ironwood runs away.

This is an unintended byproduct of Ironwoods Paranoia and distrust for others as well as the unveiling of his hypocrisy and self survival.

This is hinted at in the V7 finale as Oscar tries to talk Ironwood down in the Relic Vault, where the latter blames everyone, from Robyn, to the council, to the Kingdom and even to  Oscar, for not seeing the bigger picture and getting in the way of doing what he thinks is right, and not once does Ironwood stop to consider that he himself may have had a role in things escalating as badly as they did.

As I stated before Ironwood is probably the main catalyst for everything that has gone wrong in the current events of rwby as he was the one who ended up giving the villains more opportunities and ammo needed to get their way.

Results;

The volume also focuses on the heroes, Robyn and Ironwood all having different ideas about how to protect Atlas and Mantle.

When they finally come together to help evacuate Mantle, the truce quickly falls apart once Ironwood realizes Cinder is in town, Salem is on her way and Team RWBY leaked intel to Robyn. He orders the arrest of the heroes, the forcible extraction of the Winter Maiden powers, and the abandonment of Mantle to save Atlas.

As a consequence of his extremism and paranoia corrupting his judgement, he loses the Relic of Knowledge, the Winter Maiden, almost all of his allies, and stands alone when Salem arrives on his doorstep.

By the end of the volume everything that Ironwood has done has been for nothing. Every decision Ironwood has made in the last few chapters winds up being for naught. Ordering the heroes to be arrested gets his best agent Clover killed and allows Tyrian to escape custody. Neo takes advantage of his arrest order for the heroes to confront Oscar and get away with the Lamp of Knowledge. Sending Winter to claim the Maiden power led Cinder right to where Fria was being held and ultimately causes the power to go to Penny, who sides with the heroes due to Ironwood's extremist methods.

Also Salem was far closer than the general realized, so even if things had worked in his favor it still would have failed.

In earnest most of Ironwoods recent and current plans and ideas have had negative results. His individual powers and abilities aren’t as impressive or out of the ordinary as others in the series. As well as not as useful as they could have been.  His semblance is pretty lackluster if I'm being honest. His status has only fueled his ego and arrogance and has left him blind to his purpose as a guardian for all of remnant, not just one aspect of it.

But what exactly was going on in Ironwoods head to make him like this? To answer that we need to know the practices and beliefs of his homeland as the Kingdom of Atlas has had more influence on Ironwood than anyone or anything else in his life.

The Altasien Philosophical ideals

Now we don’t really know any of the political, religious, or philosophical ideas of Remnant, or Atlas especially but we can make a guess and see how it might have affected Ironwood. As best as I could see Atlas seems to have a philosophy equivalent to Nietzscheism. Below are the facts, concepts and ideals of Nietzsche's Philosophy.

Nietzsche’s Big Ideas

Favored perspectivism, which held that truth is not objective but is the consequence of various factors effecting individual perspective;

Articulated ethical dilemma as a tension between the master vs. slave morality; the former in which we make decisions based on the assessment of consequences, and the latter in which we make decisions based on our conception of good vs. evil

Belief in the individual’s creative capacity to resist social norms and cultural convention in order to live according to a greater set of virtues.

The Will to Power

the drive of the superman(ubermensch) in the philosophy of Nietzsche to perfect and transcend the self through the possession and exercise of creative power.

a conscious or unconscious desire to exercise authority over others.

Master Morality

Nietzsche defined master morality as the morality of the strong-willed. Nietzsche criticizes the view (which he identifies with contemporary British ideology) that good is everything that is helpful, and bad is everything that is harmful.

Slave Morality

Slave morality is the inverse of master morality. As such, it is characterized by pessimism and cynicism. Slave morality is created in opposition to what master morality values as "good". Slave morality does not aim at exerting one's will by strength, but by careful subversion.

The übermensch

the ideal superior man of the future who could rise above conventional Christian morality to create and impose his own values, originally described by Nietzsche in Thus Spake Zarathustra (1883–85).

After reading this you can probably agree that this is the default guiding philosophical mindset of the Atlasian people and Ironwood especially but in the extreme and toxic. Which suits Atlas given what we know of it. The Kingdom is filled with people who believe they are this superior race and that everyone else is below them. As well as the fact that they are willing to throw away morals to get their way and are willing to crush those that stand in their way. As for Ironwood he is sadly a part of this toxic mindset whether he likes it or not as it's the greatest flaw of his character that he is just simply an extension to enforce Atlas and their immoral ways.

Atlas as a whole, not just the military, perpetrates the whole no emotions thing. Colors, feelings, individuality are bad. Look at how Atlas is presented. It’s detached from the rest of the world, and is devoid of warm colors. It’s all the same color, that cold grayish blue. So while yes, the Atlesian military definitely does it’s best to crush all those things too, it’s not a foreign concept to Atlesians. I’m fairly certain that if you were born on Atlas, not Mantle, that you would already be conditioned to start thinking this way even before you decided to go to Atlas Academy.

The Atlesian Military is a huge part of the problem as well, but if Atlas is already crushing individuality and feelings, it makes sense that the military would just continue to do so. Considering the fact that the military is not separate from their government, it shows how Atlas just continues the cycle of crushing and indoctrinating their citizens.

Atlas is this poisonous mindset of destroying emotions and individuality. Which is why those who leave it become better people and change for the better. Weiss leaves Atlas and becomes a better person. She loses the Ice Queen persona and has fun. She makes friends because she likes them, not because their skills would be most effective in a battle.(V1 ep.4 with Pyrah) She embraces her quirks and they become her strengths. Penny learns about friendship and the joys of life outside of the mission. Robyn knows that there is more to life than to keep advancing ahead. She knows that there is good in protecting the past and that we cannot forget the old. Advancement and efficiency will only take you so far. If we leave the human part of ourselves behind, what we become is much worse than being less efficient.

It’s so heavily ingrained in Ironwood, to the point that when we first see him he is already this inhuman machine that will carry on the will of his home kingdom regardless of the truth that the world knows, and that truth is that it is evil and inhuman.

The Strain and Revelation of power and responsibility

“But although the cliche says that power always corrupts, what is seldom said ... is that power always reveals. When a man is climbing, trying to persuade others to give him power, concealment is necessary. ... But as a man obtains more power, camouflage becomes less necessary.”

If you are unsure of what that quote meant, basically this section will explain the truth of Ironwood's character through the revelation of what his power has turned him into.

Though granted there is nothing wrong with power. However it becomes a problem when one gains too much that they can no longer control it. In Ironwood's case he had amassed too much that had burdened him with too much responsibility that he wasn’t prepared for.

As people began to rely on him which is actually part of his job as a General/councilman/Headmaster of a toxic government, the stress and burden had increased.

One could argue that his job as a general, who is under a lot of pressure, especially after the fall of beacon and people not understanding the true dangers of the real enemy. Ironwood lacks the skills needed to do his job as a protector and guardian. Which has led to him being this toxic and immoral person that keeps making mistakes, and the situation worse.

The strain of his power is having him make choices that has slowly made him break away from his human soul. But if Ironwood’s power has turned him into an immoral person who’s choices escalate the situation for the worst, why has he not been removed from this role of power and given the proper time needed to adjust and contemplate the understanding of his power and responsibilities of his assigned role?

Why toxic senior leaders survive — and sometimes thrive — in the military

From what I’ve found that has been able to determine, it comes down to three major factors: individual competence of the toxic officer; lack of personal accountability up and down the chain of command; and senior leader fear of loss of confidence.

The first major factor that results in the retention, and sometimes promotion, of toxic senior officers is intellect and work ethic. Most of the senior leaders in the military are highly intelligent with tremendous drive and ambition. While some senior officers have proven themselves unfit to lead others, there is a desire by some senior leaders to retain that intellect, drive, knowledge and experience to the benefit of the service.

Atlas and Remnant in general needs to fix the way it selects and grooms officers and people for leadership roles

Atlas is not designed to produce good leaders

Being in a leadership position does not make you a leader. Unfortunately, the Atlas Military  officer system sees it differently. They talk a good game, but the system is seriously lacking.

The second factor contributing to the retention of toxic senior leaders is a lack of accountability and transparency by those who have sponsored the toxic leaders.

Leaders we can believe in

There has to be a demand to finding smart officers, but Atlas must do more to find good leaders and sideline the bad ones

Rationally speaking, this makes sense — if the offending people can still provide good service to the nation, why not retain them? After all, the service failed to properly prepare those individuals to lead and made the additional mistake of placing people unsuited to leadership in those positions. Before we judge toxic leaders in the military too harshly, we should remember that the institution failed them as much as they failed the institution. Unfortunately, the lack of explanation from their most senior leaders leaves the rank and file with the perception that there is a complete lack of accountability at higher ranks. They are not entirely wrong.

Atlas must do a better job of screening, educating and evaluating its officers, especially for grades O-6 and above(Col to General)

The truth of the role he didn’t understand

That being said. I do believe James has the best intentions. But as he accumulated more power, the tendencies to be in control - or be in control of every facet of a situation - as much as any commander of armed forces wishes to be,  has clouded his judgement.

As a military leader,  his word is law. That is how his men are trained. But as a politician ruling over the common citizenry,  the common citizen is not indoctrinated into that lifestyle, thus presents random uncontrollable elements in his plans.

Ironwoods lacks the experience to deal with that entirely. He is surrounded by other like minded individuals who follow his orders unquestioningly. What he really needed and could have used the most of his career was a consultant. As to help better understand how his choices will affect those around them and how they will have to live with his decisions

A descanting (preferably civilian) opinion to counter his directives and provide the means for a more balanced perspective. The problem is Ironwood doesn't have the social skill or experience to handle dissenting opinions. Which is why he and Qrow clashed so damn hard in V3.

And why he was so shocked when the rest of the Ozluminati placed the blame squarely at his feet for the unrest in Vale during the second and third volume. He was astonished to realize that his views weren't universal in the group. He didn't comprehend the civilian mindset,  let alone the foreign civilian mindset in a country that isn't militarized like Atlas is.

He was just simply not suited or ready to be in a position of power that deals with the responsibility of Safeguarding peoples’ lives and maintaining world peace. His ambitions and sense of entitlement have led him astray from his assigned purpose. Because of this he has become a man of War instead of Peace like the other heroes and Oz are for.

His Power had stripped him of his soul and made him more Machine than human that even if Salem drops dead tomorrow what's next for him?

(Note; The words in bold at the bottom are links to the next section)

I am Machine I never sleep I keep my eyes wide Open

[otonymous]

hiii, could you possibly do some "first times" HCs with Ikesen Masamune? (obviously both him and MC have prior experience, but just their first time together!) I loved the one you did for Yuki! Thank you! 💕💖💞💘💗💝💓

Hi lovely Anon!  Thank you so much for this ask!  Masamune is so much fun to write for and I always have a blast doing it.  Happy reading!

Warning:  NSFW/18+: explicit/graphic language - reader discretion is advised

First Times With Masamune (Ikesen Headcanon)

Your relationship in general:

CHEMISTRY 101

You and Masamune together is like fanning a flame, adding fuel to fire: both of you burn brighter in each other’s company

Masamune is already rowdy to begin with — he gets downright unmanageable in your presence (Hideyoshi doesn’t know what to do with him and is ALMOST on the verge of giving up)

The other warlords all remark that the more time you spend with Masamune, the more of his qualities you take on (especially Ieyasu, Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide)

What they don’t realize is that you’ve always had a wild streak, it was just tempered by what society expected of you (e.g. growing up feeling like you had to be an obedient child, respecting authority figures, conforming to society’s image of what constitutes a good student/employee/etc.)

They never could do away with your smart mouth though, as Nobunaga can attest to

Masamune, who gives zero f-cks about what anyone else thinks about him (aside from you) and does what he pleases, is only drawing out from you what was already there to begin with

You were initially scared out of your wits in his presence, but then soon realize that it all just feels so…natural

Of course, you still have a very different stance compared to Masamune when it comes to physical violence and war

But rarely have you ever felt such simpatico with another human being, whether back in your own time, or here, 500 years in the past

All the other warlords, while supportive, are secretly envious of Masamune’s relationship with you (except Mitsunari, who doesn’t really know what’s going on): it’s almost criminal for a couple to have that much fun and look at each other with such smouldering passion in their eyes

Of course, all of this translates into HOT SEXY TIMES…

First kiss:

Were you always this turned on from a kiss alone?

Masamune is a skilled kisser - knows how to make you melt with just the soft press of his lips against yours and his tongue will bring you to your knees…literally

The moment you feel him slide that tongue into your mouth, you are gone, putty in his hands

Cocky bastard knows he’s good at this.  He’s had enough experience with women swooning in his arms from his kiss alone

What he didn’t expect was how affected he would be by yours

Once your lips meet, he’s suddenly ravenous, hungrily exploring every inch of your mouth and sucking your tongue into his.  He’s gently sinking his teeth into your lower lip and tugging playfully

The rest of his body responds in kind: he’s grinding into you, hands freely roaming over your clothes (is that his erection you’re feeling against your thigh through his hakama?!)

Masamune can’t quite put into words why he’s responding so fervently to you, he just knows he never wants to stop

Perhaps it’s the grip of your fingers on his hair, tugging gently as if to tame a wild animal.  Or perhaps some hidden note in the warm fragrance of your skin that he detects at the base of your neck.  Or the way your moans are reminiscent of a kitten’s purrs before he greedily swallows them into his mouth.  There’s just something about you that brings out the beast in him

”I love you.”

The first time Masamune tells you he loves you, it will be completely spontaneous

You find yourselves in another near-death situation (no surprise there), the two of you looking wild with ripped clothes, disheveled hair and dirt on your faces

And when you each finally catch your breath to take in the sight of the other through wide eyes, you crumple against one another in belly shaking laughter, both trying not to embarrass yourselves further by becoming incontinent as well

When the laughter finally dies down, he’ll suddenly reach out to gently brush the mud away from your face, softly saying, “I love you, kitten”

You are dumbstruck, frozen in place.  Never once did you think he would be the first to say it.  You love him to death, but were afraid to tell him because he just didn’t seem to be the type to ever settle down with a single partner

Masamune surprises even himself when the words leave his lips as naturally as breathing: he’s never made this kind of declaration before nor even had the inclination to do so.  But then again, he’s also never met someone quite like you before.

The man has had his share of women, but they’ve been a rotating door of one-night stands with the sole purpose of sating a physical need

The thought that you could be the one to “tame” him actually frightens Masamune a bit: suddenly his reckless behaviour on the battlefield can have consequences.  What if he never returns to see you again?

But it’s already too late.  If the words didn’t seal his fate, the passionate kiss you give him in return does.

The first night:

OH.  MY.  GODS.

While neither of you are virgins, your first night together makes you wonder what the hell it was that the two of you were doing with other partners in the past, because it certainly never felt like this

You didn’t know sex could feel this good: the two of you are so physically compatible, the chemistry is insane

We are talking hot, sweaty, wild sex

All inhibitions fly out the door and nothing is taboo.  There is no room for self-consciousness when you are making hot, passionate love with Masamune

Your nails leave crimson trails down the length of his back, while his fingers dig a bit too deeply into your hips as he’s thrusting passionately into you from behind.  You won’t notice the bruising on your skin until dressing in the light of the afternoon sun the following day, having needed to sleep in after an entire night of going at it

As things usually are with Masamune, your first time together will be unplanned: the mood is right, the stars align, and you fall into each other’s arms as naturally as the seasons cycle

Once again, it all begins with laughter.  And then, in the midst of shoulder-shaking heaves, you catch a glimpse of something in that cerulean eye, an instance where he’s completely serious, earnest…and irrevocably in love with you

He says your name.  Not “kitten” or “lass,” but your name.  Whispered like the word itself is sacred and powerful, and perhaps it is, because in that moment, held in the sway of whatever magic was conjured up by that spell, you fall on him, lips hungrily seeking Masamune’s, hands working feverishly to tear open the collar of that blue kimono, needing to feel the heat of his skin beneath your greedy fingers

Masamune is taken aback for all of 2 seconds.  You’ve never been this forward before, and he is used to playing the role of aggressor, especially when it comes to amorous activities.  But he finds that he quite likes the change and is open to becoming your prey for the evening

Sex with Masamune feels like some animalistic courtship ritual, cycling between periods of playfulness and passionate solemnity, with your naked bodies naturally finding themselves in a myriad of different positions where both of you will have the chance to experience what it’s like to dominate and be dominated

Some of the many positions/activities encountered on this first night together include: face-sitting, 69, doggy, cowgirl, missionary, lotus, reverse cowgirl… god, there are so many - some positions aren’t even named yet (now you know why it took all night)!

This man will leave no stone unturned when it comes to the pursuit of pleasure

Oral skills are top notch (the guy loves to cook, so of course he’s going to have some kind of oral fixation) and he enjoys giving as much as receiving

Your blow job is the best one he’s ever had, hands down.  The entire time, when he’s not moaning and groaning, Masamune is trying hard not to entertain fantasies of cutting down the lucky guy you got to practice on with his katana

Speaking of moaning and groaning, the man is loud and doesn’t care.  In fact, he would like nothing more than to turn up the volume so that everyone knows what a good time the both of you are having

You won’t mind swallowing: the man eats his fruits and vegetables and has healthy, home-cooked meals

Magic fingers.  Masamune has had ample experience mixing, kneading and shaping culinary delicacies by hand.  Finds that G-spot like its got a GPS tracker.  You never knew you were capable of squirting before

Dimensions: a beauty to behold, his cock is long and thick, curving slightly upwards to hit just the right spot when he’s plowing deeply into you from behind.  Nice.

Energizer bunny: Masamune can go all night…and he does the very first time he’s with you (you can bet he’s making up for lost time)

Loves to cum on you (and later on as your relationship progresses, in you).  The first night, he paints your stomach, breasts, inner thighs and ass cheeks during four separate rounds of love making

Best aftercare ever: Masamune will wipe you clean, bring you water and whip up something delicious in the kitchen to help you revive (hard core sex does tend to make one ravenous, after all).  Prepare to drift off to sleep with your head on his chest, the steady beating of his heart the sweetest lullaby

Thanks for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[loyalflutist]

Just a Dream - Part 1 (F!Byleth x Edelgard)

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: Major Character Death Words: 2,173 Summary:  The war is finally over and it was the Adrestian Empire's win. Most everyone moved onward from the conflict at their own pace. For Edelgard, she has a surprise coming from Byleth one night.

A/N: Obviously due to Tumblr’s layout, I doubt I can leave my author’s note to the bottom like I intend to. Oh well. This is a fun side project I was working on! The second half should be out next week or so... depending on how my school load is going and, god forbid, if my PI isn’t a jerk. Hope you enjoy this! I enjoyed writing this fluffy piece, heh.

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The atrocious conflict that lasted for more than five years came to a roaring conclusion.

What should have been a magnificent creature in legends stayed as a legend, its real counterpart far crueler than any villain in history. Two brave leaders swung their relics at the formidable white dragon. In one strike, the beast pierced the fiery battlefield with its shriek. An axe and a sword plunged its sharp edges into its thick scales. Bloodied, battered, and bruised, the large monster wildly tossed its head left and right. Another inhumane squeal tore from its elongated throat as it dug its massive claws on the cracked pavement.

Byleth and Edelgard plopped back on the ground simultaneously. Sweat gleamed on their foreheads, their breaths bated, and eyes trained on the foul beast. Their weapons were deeply ensnared in its moist flesh. No matter how much the dragon shook, it won’t remove the powerful blades. Amidst the flames in the background, their surviving comrades and troops watched in awe.

“It’s… finally over,” the emperor breathed. “We won.”

Just as she uttered that confident statement, the white dragon collapsed to the side, its jaw jutted open. Black blood pooled underneath its large head as its last light flickered out. Everyone kept their limbs locked in place, their respiratory system temporarily paused. Byleth and Edelgard eventually straightened their posture. Although they were out of breath, they exchanged glances. Then, a worn smile broke out from their face.

“Thank you… Byleth.”

This war’s victor was none other than the Adrestian Empire.

Peace draped over the united land after five, long miserable years. Although there were plenty of sacrifices and regrets from Byleth and Edelgard, they marched forward with their heads held up high. After all, the emperor must reign over their new country and people with persistence and conviction. It was a worthy offering for the next chapter in Fodlan.

As for the leaders of the Black Eagle Strike Squad? Many of their comrades retired from the battlefield. Some of their comrades worked under or alongside with Edelgard.

Petra returned to Brigid with the songstress shortly after the final battle to build a diplomatic relationship between the two nation. Eventual news about a new theatrical show in Brigid starring none other than Dorothea spread across the sea. Its popularity skyrocketed as many nobles desperately scrambled onto the next boat to catch a glimpse of the beautiful opera singer. Lest to say, many were disappointed to hear that she was already taken. The Brigid queen made sure to make it clear.

Linhardt resumed his activity as a researcher, eager to chew on anything that perks his interest. Whenever Edelgard and Hubert visited the man’s estate, he would greet them with a piece of toast, their much-need answers, and a slam of a door. Hark, it was not from malice! Disturbance of a slumbering prince would present a predictable reaction. This led to a small stack of apologetic, handwritten letters from the green-haired to the emperor.

Bernadetta slithered back to her life as a noble— Well, it would have been more peaceful had it not been for Caspar. That young man made sure to take her out every month to sightsee a new scenery during his service with Edelgard. Safe to say, Bernadetta both did and did not appreciate his way of carrying her high up the mountains or through the fields in plain view. (How embarrassing!) Their laughter could be heard from miles away as the couple bloomed in the vast, green field.

Ferdinand and Hubert continue to maintain a close relationship with their new emperor’s activity at the castle. Of course, many of the guards and Byleth would spot them sharing a moment of tranquility over tea with each other. Suffice to say, they knew how to take care of each other in ways not even Edelgard knows.

Shamir and Catherine broke off from the group and traveled the country. No one knew where they were. The only clues they’ve left behind were the occasional, unaddressed letters delivered to Byleth at the castle. That didn’t include the rumors of famous fight scenes that broke out throughout Fodlan. (It appears they were mostly self-initiated by the troublesome duo.)

Overall, the turbulent times simmered down to a lazily, wafting steam. Those Who Slither in the Dark were still a danger to society, but Edelgard, Byleth, Caspar, Ferdinand, and Hubert were on top of their game. It was a lengthy session of chess, but so far, they’re nearing the endgame. Hubert, Ferdinand, and Byleth approximated about five more years until this evil is squashed for good. Five more years until Edelgard can retire.

“Edelgard?”

At the emperor’s patio of her grand bedroom late at night, the woman in bright red glanced over her shoulder. Edelgard released her hold on the concrete railings and approached the older female. The moon’s soft rays of light lit Byleth’s entrance into her vision. Her ex-professor had both hands behind her back, her hues sparkled like the stars. It would almost seem out of character had they not been dating!

Edelgard tried to resist an amusing chuckle as Byleth slowed her steps.

“Professor, what brings you here?”

Both females stood in front of each other. The close approximation allowed their breaths to tickle each other. They shyly giggled. Byleth soon leaned down to plant her lips on the shorter’s forehead. Pleasant warmth grew in the noble’s chest as she rested her hand on the other’s chest. She lowered her head and felt the corner of her lips curve upward.

“Okay, Byleth, what is it that you have to tell me?”

“You’re always straight to the point.”

“That’s just who I am.”

“Well… I have a surprise for you.”

Byleth began to back away from the emperor. The ex-mercenary got down on one knee. Her hands that were once behind her back were brought forward. There was a small object pinched between her thumb and index. It was a silver ring ornamented with bits of fine gemstones and diamonds; a precious gift that her father, Jeralt, had once given to her mother. He bestowed it upon his daughter before the incident that transpires afterward.

“Will you marry me, El?”

Her cheeks flushed. Those were the words Edelgard would never expect to hear from anyone in her life. Commitment to ending the Hresvelg line and isolating herself from politics once her duties were complete was all that filled her mind. She and Byleth had fallen in love, but they never exchanged anything more than a simple peck or tender embrace. Honestly, Edelgard held low expectations for their relationship to deepen. The fact that her partner in battle would become her lifelong partner increased her heartbeat’s pace.

' Is this a dream? It's too good to be true! '

The noble’s violet hues searched for an object other than Byleth to fixate. Happiness was an understatement. It was a complete understatement. No terminology in any living dictionary would be able to describe the euphoric sensation that threatens to burst from the seam of her epidermis. She failed to completely remove her gaze from Byleth as her reply tumbled out of her mouth like a rockslide.

“I— Wow, yes… Yes!” She finally diverted her attention back to the teal-haired. Hidden ears as rosy as her cheeks, she grinned from ear to ear. “Yes, I want to marry you, Byleth!”

No time was wasted in slipping the ring onto Edelgard’s finger. She cautiously removed the armored glove. Scars and permanent engravings from her surgical procedures were exposed to the open air. A shudder ran down Edelgard’s spine; she had to resist the temptation to rip her hand away. Besides, when her tactician inserted the precious band, all forms of negativity eroded away in a flash. The ring’s surface glimmered in the moonlight as Byleth brought her lips on her soon-to-be-official-wife’s knuckles. The sensitive flesh brushed upon the marked hand.

“We’ll always be together in spirit.”

“Just in spirit, though?”

Edelgard chuckled as her professor rose from the crouch. Hands now holding each other, they exchanged a kiss. At her lips’ touch, the vermillion girl blossomed like a flower. Sweet nectar dripped from her lover’s whispers as they went in for a second round. They repeatedly kissed, the one after another becoming briefer and more playful. Their eyes were closed as giggles emitted from their direction. From a distant, it would be to no one’s surprise if literal heart shapes sprouted from the couple.

“Once we finish ridding Those Who Slither in the Darkness, we shall find an appropriate person fit for the throne.”

“Mm… Five years is long, isn’t it?”

“We cannot help it. We have to stay focused on our goals.”

“It would be nice if five years were to hurry, don’t you think?”

“I agree.”

Edelgard placed a hand on her hip once their hold broke away. She looked downward, the smile lingering.

“Still, I have you by my side. To think that I would be walking down this path on my own… I was mistaken. I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t with me.”

“You should learn how to be independent without me, El.”

“Oh, hush! I doubt that would ever happen now that we’ve promised to be with each other.”

“…in spirit.”

“Why do you keep saying that? I hope you are misunderstanding the original phrase—”

A faint, but warm, yellow light glowed on Edelgard’s face. Stars. Tiny, little stars twinkled before the shorter female.

“?”

Particles of light began to grow brighter around the emperor. Edelgard raised her head; her violet eyes widen at the newfound sight.

“Byleth…?”

The older woman tilted her head, eyelids closed and smiled. Those particles grew in its number as Byleth became transparent. Their gentle nature floated near her face, almost as if they tried to hug her. Alas, these creations were not permanent. They were meant to fade away into nothingness… just like her Byleth.

“Byleth!”

She reached out towards her lover with the same hand that received the ring.

That was right… How could she have forgotten?

During the final battle, the two emerged victoriously… but at a heavy cost. Byleth had collapsed after the dragon’s death. Edelgard immediately dashed to her girlfriend; she ignored the throbbing aches from her bruises and stings from her cuts. The noble flipped over the instructor. A quick examination told her of the bad news. Confirmation was needed, and it was a confirmation Edelgard wished she had never done.

Byleth’s heart stopped beating. No matter how many times she pressed her ear against her chest, pressed her fingers upon her wrist, and shook the older woman, Byleth would not crack open her eyelids. Not a single peep came out of her mouth.

Did she die peacefully?

She didn’t know. She won’t know. She will never know.

“Are you leaving me again?”

Tears stained Edelgard’s cheeks as she witnessed her professor nod at her direction.

“This is farewell.”

Farewell? There was no need for farewell when the noble glanced down at her hand again. The ring… it was still there. Yes! It was still there! That same ring that she had slipped onto her ring finger! It… No— it has always been there. Byleth had given it to her and proclaimed her proposal right before the final mission. It was the last gift her girlfriend— her wife had given to her before the untimely demise.

She felt her throat become dry and lips tremble. Edelgard grabbed at the bright lights that encompassed her significant other. They went through her fingers. But she repeated her actions. It became frantic and wild as dizziness seeped into her skull. The tears continued to pour from her lacrimal glands as Edelgard shook her head with slanted eyes.

“No… NO!”

This isn’t right!

“Don’t you dare—!”

Her heart squeezed until it physically caused pain. Streams flowed down her face as her fingers curled inward at the golden clumps. Another outcry burst in-between her sharp exhales.

“I’ve already lost you once!”

No no no no no—!!!

Why can’t she grab her?!

Why?!

WHY?!

WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!

“Don’t leave me again!” she wailed at the disappearing woman. “Please! I don’t know what to do anymore!”

Byleth reached her illuminated hand out. Though contact was not felt, she began to smooth the crying noble’s head. Particles from her legs began to dim as she tilted her head. Despite the anguish from her lover, she still smiles. How could she still smile…? No, that smile was only because she was an illusion. Edelgard’s blurred vision deluded her of a Byleth she finds solace in. Her lips trembled violently as another choking sob blubbered out of her.

Her professor, her friend, her lover, her only one closed her eyelids.

“Open your eyes, my dear Edelgard. This was only just a dream.”

This delusion has to end… and the first step to it is acceptance. As Byleth vanished, Edelgard crumpled to her knees. She cried hard into her hands, her weeping echoed into the lonesome night.

[dat-town]

Destined to fall | scene v.

Characters: Taehyung & You

Setting: fallen angel au, reincarnation au, historical au

Genre: angst

Warnings: character death, lots of violence since it’s set during WWII

Summary: Your love story is a tragedy written with blood throughout the centuries.

Words: 5.4k

Chapter index

SCENE V. RULE THE UNDERWORLD Kobe, 1945

God is dead, Nietzsche said and at that time, it really looked like he was right.

Explosions, screams and chaos everywhere. The world was like burning lava, a boiling cauldron and humans, the fools were stars waiting to be burnt out. There was no evil and innocent anymore, even good people did bad things in order to survive. Everybody was a victim, merely a puppet in the game of leaders, those who fought for power. Because people never learnt from their mistakes. And Taehyung? The Devil himself? He used to be the puppet master before it all buried him under its weight. He didn’t need to do anything anymore. It was enough to whisper the right (wrong) dreams into the right (fallible) people’s ear and all of it all fell like domino. One after another, attack after attack. It would have been a lie to claim he wasn’t a bit sad about what humankind became but God deserved this betrayal. His own beloved children killing each other, how ironic.

Yes, that’s right: this endless war sacrificing too many human lives made even the Devil sad, it made him lose that last ounce of hope he had in humanity. He didn’t feel guilt, only sorrow, melancholy and nostalgia.

But most of all, he missed you, the sound of your laughter, the touch of your hands and all the wonders you gave to the world. He walked around in the streets between scattered ruins, watching the Sun from where it rose the earliest. You would have loved Japan, he thought and wished you were there smiling at him and making him forget about the ruthless war going on out there. On the other hand, he was happy he didn’t found you, not yet, because otherwise that would have meant you had to live during such cruel times… again. You had seen so much blood and survived too many decades of pain, you deserved better, a more peaceful world.

One you couldn't get with him by your side.

“Long time no see, boss,” came the snarky comment and Taehyung grit his teeth as he stepped on a piece of broken brick splattered all over the ground in the darkening port city of Kobe.

“Go away,” he spit out. He didn't need company, he had no patience for one.

But certain people... demons didn't know when to shut up and how to behave like decent beings around their superior. This creature didn't seem to fear death and rotting in Hell in the most painful way.

“Oh are you still moping over that human girl?” he laughed disgust clear in his voice and spit on the ground that humans built and destroyed, the race he and other demons despised so much. Taehyung found it pathetic, that so many of his once so-called brothers didn't fall for a cause, for a reason but because of their own pride and because they thought they were better than humans, more worthy of attention than those rats. They didn't know anything but pain and destruction when it came to Earth beings.

The man in nothing but black, arms tattooed, smirk on his face walked right in front of him, moving in an accelerated motion, the aftermath of a fresh kill, blood still bright red on his hands. Taehyung just glared at him, unfazed and cold.

“How can you be our ruler? You are pathetic,” the demon made another attempt at riling him up even more, testing his boundaries, pushing where it hurt.

“Don’t you dare to speak to me like that, Azazel,” Taehyung hissed at him through his teeth. His hands curled into a fist, ready to fight, something he didn't have to do physically for so long because he had others to do it for him and because war and murder didn’t end in blood and death every single time. Killing a soul, living in a lie or in desperation was sometimes even worse.

But now his knuckles wanted to harshly kiss skin, tearing it apart, making it bleed. He wanted to hurt and he wanted to watch the change of insulting eyes turning into a regretful one when the demon realised what kind of mess he made.

But Azazel went along with it, he greeted his rage, he bathed in the anger of his gaze. That was what he wanted all along.

“Or what?” he asked, taking a reckless step forward, too close for the Devil’s liking. Something gold flashed through the demon’s eyes and his mouth curled into a wolfish smirk. “Will you cry on my shoulder?”

Taehyung scoffed wondering if he should make his hellhounds eat this dirt of a demon or simply rip him into pieces and put the parts on display to remind everybody what rebellion meant.

“Leave or I will make you,” he warned Azazel, for one last time because he was being nice for once, throwing chances like this.

“Oh I’m shaking so hard,” the man bit out sarcastically and his followers, that bunch of lower demons hiding in his shadow laughed together with him. Azazel spit at the first fallen in despise. “You are getting old. It’s time for somebody else to rule.”

“You mean yourself?” Taehyung laughed as he eyed him up and down. Stupid bloodthirsty demon, he had no idea what it meant to rule. “And over what will you rule once you kill everybody?”

Fear, pain, greed, they all moved humanity ahead towards bigger goals, so maybe Devil wasn’t good but he wasn’t all that bad either. It’s a paradox, isn’t it? Because if he wasn’t evil then what right did he have to own the Underworld? He built this kingdom and it will die with him if he had to. He would bring everybody down with himself.

Azazel opened his stupid mouth to answer but before he could utter a word, the ground split under them, shaking as the horrid noise filled the air, making the buildings shake and the glass shatter. Taehyung knew it was a bomb before he heard the collision far enough to leave him safe and sound yet close enough to leave destruction in his surroundings, like that trembling building towering over him.

“Rot in Hell,” the demon spit out and he laughed.

“We are already there,” the elder smirked. From his point of view even the prettiest place was like Hell without you and he would have watched the world burn happily if it wasn't for you.

Azazel snapped at that and lunged at him with his full weight throwing the first fallen under the falling bricks and an office building threatening to collapse. Taehyung saw him run away and cursed under his breath as anger bubbled inside of him. How dared he touch him with his filthy hands? How dared he challenge him and then leave like a coward? How-

He heard it first. He heard that sound resembling earthquakes but didn’t pay much attention to it, too focused on that damn demon escaping. Then came the pain, which wasn’t intense at first, the ripping feeling only came in waves. An enormous weight put him down and it was dumb because he had survived worse without a scratch but now? It felt like he carried the whole world on his shoulders. In the back of his mind he recognized the redness on his palm as his own blood but he still tried to get up…

However, his attempts came to be in vain. Then blissful darkness masked the world and everything became numb.

 He dreamt of you.

It was too good to be true, he thought, blinking and seeing you through his lashes because his eyelids were too heavy to keep his eyes open for much longer. Yet, he stared quietly, wondering when and why he got the privilege to dream and especially to dream of you. Or was this the afterlife? Did he really die? Was it heaven after all he did?

Because there was no way that you were there smiling at him so sweetly. Or maybe he was hallucinating because he just woke up with a headache, blank mind and bruises all over. Yeah, it must have been it.

“What happened?” he croaked out disorientated and tried his best to sit up in what looked like a hospital bed. The mattress was a bit uncomfortable under his weight and the sheets smelled like antiseptic. Its terribly distinct human smell disgusted him.

As he looked around in a room, he assumed was a war hospital with all the wounded patients and nurses running around. It was all too plain, a sight to forget but then his gaze fixated on you and his breath hitched. You were real in your entire solid and shy demeanour. Not only an illusion, not a mirage. You found him.

You wore a light blue uniform and held your hair up in a messy bun. Despite your mouth curving into a soft smile, you pushed him back onto his pillow with quite a strength when he leaned forward abruptly, risking his wounds to open up and bleed through the bandage.

“Rest,” you told him firmly, not leaving any other options for him to take and he watched you in awe. You just touched. He felt your fingers brushing his shoulder and then your palm against his forehead to check if he had fever. Yet, you acted like a stranger.

You poured water into the glass on his night table, took out a few pills and motioned for him to swallow. He did as you asked because even if he was capable of healing without medicines, he was your patient now… Again after so many years.

Your almond eyes reminded him of Silla. Just like your light touches, fingers careful on his wounds, they all brought back memories of you treating his torn wings. The first of firsts was always a bittersweet memory for him but you didn’t seem bitter at all, mostly just worried as your shining gaze met his.

“There was bombing on the streets,” you finally provided an answer as an explanation but as it all came back to him bits by bits, he knew it wasn’t merely the bombing. It was Azazel who pushed him under the collapsing building. That fucker! He will make sure the demon will pay for this and wish he would have never been born.

“You were buried under sixteen flights of bricks. Nobody knows how you survived,” you added with a smile of somebody who knew secrets. Because you did, you had so many of them. You knew exactly what he was and how he could survive. Yet, you didn't say anything. You just brushed the reckless locks of your hair behind your ears and intertwined your fingers in your lap.

You reminded Taehyung of your first life together so much, he had trouble breathing. It was you, the kind, the selfless, the one to heal him all over again with beautiful eyes in a country of war. He feared so much that the past would repeat itself but you had rather feared for him than yourself.

“Take care of yourself. What would I do if you weren’t there in my next life?” you whispered knuckles brushing against his cheek and looked at him like you loved him. Because you did, oh how much you did! Because in this life you remembered him before he did and you prayed, begged even so you could be together again, just once you asked.

Without me… you would be happy, he thought but he was way too selfish to voice that out.

“I love you,” he said instead, searching for your gaze, the forgiving and your sweet smile was salvation itself.

“I love you too,” you bent down to kiss him and soothe his worries away. He wished it was that easy forgetting about the weight of Earth on his shoulders. Simply being with you was worth it anyway.

 A poet once said that demons run when a good man goes to war. Apparently, he was wrong and knew nothing because demons, they were the front line of any war and Taehyung led them. Not personally of course, but he adapted to the idea of Evil. He once hated the hatred, the torture, the brutality and the weakness it represented, however he was wiser now. He knew that the world needed balance, it needed both good and bad… it needed him.

Darkness existed before him and will exist after he will be far gone. The thing he owned but no other fallen had was the knowledge, that he learned how to control and form it like he wanted. Each time Death claimed you he used it as revenge, throwing a tantrum like a spoiled child. He didn’t care who he hurt as long as he made sure God was watching. It was an eye for eye deal and the Devil always kept his word.

He wasn't proud of what he did but he couldn't find it in himself to regret anything. All his actions, they led him to you. One way or another, he always came back to you. Even bruised and hurt, he held your hand.

“How many?” you asked sitting next to him, watching the city in flames through the broken window. In a world of chaos, there was no place like safe haven.

The hospital was run down the previous week. After that Taehyung encouraged you to leave the country with him. To get on the last ships going south, heading to a hopefully peaceful place but you refused to leave your patients behind. You were too kind, too good for this world. Since then you had been in hiding, crashing in abandoned buildings in the constant fear of bombs falling down.

So your sudden question caught Taehyung off guard. It was so out of blue yet he knew you had your reasons.

“Millions,” he croaked out without shame or hesitation.

The number just increased and increased since he had a big influence in the First World War. What did you wait for? What did you want him to say? To lie? He was the Devil after all. He was feared for a reason.

“Does it scare you?” he asked, curious.

You had never complained about his being before, never asked him to change. Was it because you blamed yourself for making him this way or did you really accept him unconditionally?

“No,” you shook your head as an answer, black halo of hair falling into your face, shadowing the glint in your almond eyes. “You would never hurt me.”

That much was undeniably true. He could never lay a harmful finger on you. Not even if you asked. Still, it didn't make him less of a monster.

“But I have killed a lot. I am no better than the soldiers you despise murdering thousands here,” he protested running a hand through his now faded ash blonde hair. Your gaze followed the motion and you reached out to take his bony fingers and intertwine them with yours.

“What's the point of wars? Power? These soldiers don't even have a choice, they are forced to join the army and to kill innocent people, to destroy. People say it's the Devil's doing but no, it's all us, fallible, selfish humans doing monstrous things, playing gods,” you muttered, head resting on Taehyung's shoulder, enjoying the warmth while you could. “You, on the other hand, you are doing this out of love. A twisted kind, yes, but you are just as stuck in a treadwheel as I am. You lost your wings because of me, because you saved me! How is that fair? You were made to rule over the realm of chaos God throw away and didn't want to deal with. You made home in it and learned how to survive. I'm not saying you had no choice, that you are innocent and I would not absolve you of your sins but you had your reasons.”

Your whispers were elixirs for his hurting wounds and filled his aching heart with even more love. For such a pretty young face, you sounded so wise and you were, you have seen so much loss and so many battles in all your life. You both were old souls in young bodies.

You lifted your head turning towards him, nose bumping into his on the way and from this close, you could see the adorable moles and light freckles on his flawless, handsome face.

“To them, you might be a monster but I know you have a gentle soul and that's what I fall in love with each time,” you exhaled your confession right into his mouth, his breath fanning over your chapped lips and you could have been swallowed up by his black hole-like orbs.

“Have you ever regretted it?” he asked, scared and desperate. However, he had no reason to be afraid. If it was up to you, he would have never lost you.

“No,” you replied right away. If it's for him, you would have never regretted anything. “And you?”

His head signalled no fervently, pressing his forehead to yours, squeezing your hand gently.

“You're the gravity and I fell for you. I wouldn't change a thing,” he whispered and leaned forward to prove his feelings with a chaste press of lips, chasing after your sweet kiss in such dark and bitter times.

 The Eastern bloc started to fall apart one by one, defeated by the enemy with more developed technology. Rumours among civils whispered about nuclear weapons and total annihilation but Japan, the country that had never lost a war before refused to give up. What a way to go! Sentenced to death by their own pride.

“We should have fled when you told me to. Sorry,” you apologized for your stubbornness after days spent in an underground bunker waiting for it to be over. No war lasts forever, that much you both knew.

“It’s okay. We are together,” Taehyung smiled at you, rubbing your dirty cheeks with his thumb and pressed a quick kiss onto your temple oh so lovingly. “I’ll go out for food.”

“I’ll go with you,” you got up from the crappy mattress immediately. You didn’t want to stay behind without him, not knowing what happens to him. Of course, you knew it was almost impossible to kill him but it didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Y/N...” he said softly, rejection clear in his voice as he looked at you with those melancholic, sad eyes but you didn’t let him finish.

“No. We’ve talked about this, remember? You can’t control my decisions, they are my own to make,” you reminded him and sighed exasperatedly when you looked around in the tiny bunker in which the two of you made home recently. No sunlight, no wind in your hair, barely enough water to drink. You remembered fear, poverty and torture from your earlier lives but this had been the worst. Not knowing whether it was day or night, how much time passed. If it wasn’t for Taehyung you might have given up already. “I feel like going crazy if I stay inside for any longer.”

“Okay,” he grunted and you could tell how much willpower it took him to accept your will.

“If anything happens to me, it won’t be your fault,” you promised and sealed it with a kiss. Taehyung practically melted into you, cupping your face and reciprocating the kiss deeply. In these moments, when you closed your eyes and with his arms around you, you could almost forget about the world. You pressed even closer, hands running up on his smooth back under the thick layers of clothing. You only pulled back when Taehyung let out a hiss and stepped back.

“What?” you furrowed your brows but the fallen avoided your eyes.

“It’s nothing. Let’s go,” he grabbed your hand lightly leading you to the super safe steel door of your little shelter. You didn’t question further since you thought you would still have time for that when you arrive back after the food hunt. Without a word, you nuzzled close to him and with masks covering half your face, you rose to the surface.

Kobe was in ruins, it was even more destroyed than in your memory. Barely any building left untouched, the streets were full of litter and dead, the road was painted with dried blood and you felt nausea bubbling up from your upset stomach despite not eating properly in the last days. Or was it weeks, who knows?

It took quite a walk to find an old convenience store that wasn’t emptied to stretch and only the sounds of faint rattle of firearms stopped you from stuff your mouth with all the expired food. You could wait until you got home, you reasoned and put everything in your bag.

“You done?” Taehyung helped you up. You nodded almost as eager to go back to your place as you were to get out. But just as you were about to cross the threshold, a cold voice sent chills down your spine.

“Hey Lucifer, I told you we would meet again.”

“And I told you I would kill you when that happens,” Taehyung retorted in an alarmed voice, hiding you behind his back as he was looking left and right, desperately searching for the owner of the voice.

“Charming,” Azazel chuckled as if it was all a big joke for him. Then his voice dropped low and full of intent. “So is she her? The girl who made Satan weak and fall onto his knees?”

“Leave her alone!” your angel snapped and you curled your hands into his coat, with your heart in your throat.

But nothing could prevent you from falling over and screaming in agony as a dirty set of sharp teeth sank into the flesh of your shin and dragged you backwards, to the legs of a man dressed in all black, eyes red and evil.

“Y/N!” Taehyung reached towards you as soon as he heard the sounds just to face a hellhound holding you as its captive. Blood was flooding from your wound as tears rolled down your face.

“Ah-ah… remember Pudding? The guard of your precious Underworld’s gate?” Azazel patted the dog-like creature’s head. “While you were too busy protecting your girl, me and ma boys took over. Now he listens to me well. Good dog. If I wanted, he would tear your precious princess into bloody pieces.”

“Let her go,” Taehyung ordered when the demon dared to touch you, brush your hair out of the way and point a knife right to your throat.

“Maybe I will... If you beg for it,” the man clicked his tongue impatiently and yanked at your hair until the metal blade drew your blood. You hissed as the warm liquid wept down your neck. ”Come on, do it! Or you think I’m just joking, that these are empty threats? I will cut her pretty throat if you...”

“Okay, wait. I will do it. Just please… please don’t hurt her,” and the fallen, the proud one held up his hands in defeat. Your tears were no longer out of pain but from sadness.

With a satisfied smile, Azazel waved off his wicked pet.

“Pudding, go home,” he ordered and the hellhound disappeared into thin air, releasing your hurting leg, burning deep in the wound. Yet, the demon’s grip on you didn’t get loose, the knife was still there threatening to cut you open. He sounded even more arrogant than ever. “Go on. Kneel and hand me the keys of Hell.”

Your eyes widened as you watched the horror in Taehyung’s eyes at the mention of the keys. Your lips were trembling as you tried to shake your head as careful as you could to tell him not to do it. You knew if Taehyung gave up on the last thing the demon wanted from him after his dignity, he would kill both of you anyway. But how could he not try to save you? He loved you more than his own kingdom.

“On three, we will exchange,” he opened up his palms where a golden key ring appeared out of nowhere. Azazel nodded as he hungrily eyed the item. “One, two...”

“Three!” the demons cut him to it as he shoved you forward and stole the keys from Taehyung’s hand who was busy catching you. The deadweight was the first he realized and he only saw the deep cut wound later on your throat, artery damaged. His expression resembled pure shock and eternal grief when he looked up.

Azazel just laughed, swinging the dagger in his right like it was a plaything. Crimson drops of your blood rained down as the keys clinked in his other hand.

“Oops my hand must have slipped,” he mocked.

“No,” Taehyung roared rocking your lifeless body back and forth, staring at your mouth that hung open, the blood still smearing from the deadly wound and your eyes staring up to the sky, empty and helpless. “NOOO!”

You said it wouldn’t have been his fault but it was. He wasn’t fast enough, this time he was right there but still couldn’t save you. He was the one who angered Azazel, not you. Yet the filthy demon killed you to get back at him. You are his weakest spot and everybody who wants to hurt him, hurts you.

It was Silla all over again.

“You are a dead man, Azazel,” Taehyung growled in an inhuman voice, standing up slowly, crying black tears.

“You can’t kill me. You just proved how weak you are,” the demon scoffed playing with the keys as if he ruled over this place but the first fallen knew better.

“You haven’t seen me at my worst,” he said and with the power he had in himself, the anger, the grief, the madness, he curled his hands into fists imagining Azazel’s insides breaking and rotting in his grip. He was panting hard as he tried his best to keep his focus on the body’s most vulnerable points, the part that could hurt the most.

The demon standing in front of him choked on air, dropped down onto his knees as blood flooded out of his mouth, nostrils, ears and even his eyes. The sight of horror in his eyes satisfied the sadistic side of Taehyung as he grabbed him by the neck and forced the dagger out of his hand.

“I warned you,” he gritted through his teeth as his goodbye and dabbed the knife into Azazel’s weak body dozens of time until he lost counting, until his anger died down.

Numbly, he walked back to crouch down next to you hugging you close to him and swaying there while his body shook with loud cries.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. None of it.

 He buried you in a field of roses, a place you would have loved and prayed for your soul, for you to come back to him in your next life, so he can say sorry and make you happier. When he broke into a rundown hotel to wash down the blood, yours and the demon’s too, he didn’t care about getting caught anymore. With Hell’s keys close to his still heart, he was ready to kill anybody who bothered him. However, when he heard footsteps, they didn’t belong to humans.

“You killed him,” Seokjin stated astonished like he didn’t believe his eyes, staring at the blood on Taehyung’s hands.

“Yeah and I would do it again,” the fallen shrugged cleaning his hands under the flowing water of the tap and looked up at his sudden visitor through the dirty motel mirror. “It’s not a big deal. I have killed our kind and did worse before.”

But it was, that’s why Seokjin came, because the horror on his face implied that things were changing. And Taehyung had a hunch about it for a while, he felt the change in his own body.

“But it’s different now. You… when you kill them or make them kill each other, they go to the Purgatory if not straight to Hell. However Azazel… you deleted him from history. You killed his immortal soul. That’s something only Father can do.”

“Well. In that case, I did him a favour by getting rid of that worm.”

“You really don’t take it seriously enough,” the angel sighed.

“What do you want me to say? That I shouldn’t have done that?” Taehyung snorted bitterly because it had been long since he cared about should have and must have options.

“You know how fallen ones become demons? You know what happens to their souls? Every time they kill an innocent human, they lose a part of it until there’s nothing left. Azazel was long gone when I killed him,” he reasoned and Jin hummed acknowledging the possibility of this fact.

“And what about your soul then?”

“I… I think it’s connected to hers,” he mumbled a bit uncertain even though every evidence proved it. Despite all the monstrous things he did he still had humanity in him, the ability to feel sorry and love. People often blamed Devil for all tragedies but they tend to forget he wasn’t the driving force of evilness. He wasn't a fallen hero of light, he threw that name away from him. He was a soldier, a general in each war dark and light fought, he was always on the opposite side of God’s army of angels and believers. Seokjin should have considered him an enemy, a threat, he should have killed him on spot whenever they met because he was a menace that didn’t deserve all these chances he got. But he didn’t, he had no order to do so which meant that all his efforts, all the murders were for nothing because the Almighty still had plans for him.

“So what happens to you when you kill?” the archangel asked him but didn’t even question the bond between his and your soul. Maybe you were just ill-fated, star crossed lovers always finding each other at the wrong time in the wrong place. Maybe you never stood a chance because your right time hadn’t come yet.

Taehyung didn’t answer, not in words at least, just turned around pulling the shirt over his head to reveal his scarred back.

“You are growing wings again,” Seokjin whispered in shock and awe but not in disgust, gaping at the fallen’s back and the black bones sticking out of the flawless skin. They were as ugly as his crimes, dark like the sins he committed and painful like he deserved to suffer according to the books of justice.

“Yeah and they hurt like hell, as if thorns were spouting out of my back, tearing the skin,” Taehyung grimaced flapping the wings out of experiment and one of the black feathers fell to the ground as a proof of the dying texture. “I know why I get this but Y/N... She can’t die but cannot live either. It’s ruthless. If it was me I wouldn’t care but…”

“That’s why it’s called a punishment,” Seokjin nods understanding, almost sympathetic which is funny, isn’t it? Feeling sorry for the Devil is a rare occurrence.

“But why does he have to punish her too? Why not just me?”

If God really was fair, then how he would have explained this? Most of your lives you were a pure soul and an obedient daughter. Your only sin was loving him unconditionally.

Seokjin shook his head with a bitter smile, blonde mop of hair falling onto his forehead.

“Remember? She took you away. One of his favourites. One of those he trusted the most,” he said and Taehyung scoffed loudly.

“Is he jealous?”

Seokjin’s answer came as a lecture of an elder, simple and forgiving for the foolishness of youth.

“No. He just doesn’t like to be wrong.”

But oh how wrong he was if he thought Taehyung would let him get away with playing him like this. He was his best pupil and now it was time for the student to outdo the master. But for now, it was time, to wipe this place off Earth, he thought looking out of the window staring at the remains of Kobe, this hell of town.

And just as cherry blossoms bloomed, incendiary bombs painted the dark sky bright orange like falling stars and millions of fireflies were born from the flames around them as the city burned.

Next chapter

[thewatertowernews]

alternative massacres: the trump administration’s fixation on fictional mass murders

by clairetattersfield

art by cullen hairston

  So we’ve pretty much plummeted face first into 2017 with all the grace of someone sleepwalking and falling out of a window. There were speculations at the start of a Trump presidency that he wouldn’t actually be able to pull off any of the dastardly schemes he or Disney villain Mike Pence talked about, or even that he was more liberal than everybody believed and we were just on the world’s most elaborate episode of Punk’d (if we’re being honest I’m still waiting for Ashton Kutcher to appear, say it’s all a joke, give me a warm hug, and let me play with his baby).   The Trump presidency has been just as hateful, fear-mongering, idiotic, and 1%-filled as we all feared. My only thought as I dragged my feet into 2017 was that if we avoided a nuclear war the year was already better than predicted. And while the Trump administration has all of us fearing the D-word (Dictator, although he is a bit of a Dick too), there have been some truly amazing moments. The world now has the most incredible Sean Spicer impersonator on their Saturday night television screens, alternative fact memes are in full swing, and the jokes about Steve Bannon just keep coming.   Silver linings aside, it’s clear that Donald Trump has nary an idea of how to run a family, business, or nation, and his cabinet includes the smarmiest characters since Marv and Harry in the hit 1990 film Home Alone (starring Macaulay Culkin), and while that is terrifying, the mistakes fuelled by this 7th-grade-science-fair-volcano of an administration allow for some incredible cannon fodder, perhaps the best of which being the made-up massacres (or “Alt-Massacres” as Kellyanne Conway might say) that have riddled our new administration.   Condemned banshee returned from the dead, Kellyanne Conway, kicked off the fake merriment with her references to the “Bowling Green Massacre” on MSNBC. Next, spoiled milk given a personality, Sean Spicer, made references to terror attacks in Atlanta – three times in one week. And now most recently, dear old Donald Trump himself startled the US, the world, and the great nation of Sweden as he alleged that Sweden also experienced a terror attack, which, of course, never happened. Definitely for the better – if anything happened to Sweden we might as just throw in the towel and nuke the whole planet because if Scandinavia isn’t sacred then nothing else is.   But it seems like the Trump administration has a lot on its plate. From having to handcuff Steve Bannon every time the words “nuclear codes” are said in the same room as him, training sentient Cheeto Donald Trump to not go to war every time someone insults his hair, and changing Sean Spicer’s diaper, it feels like they don’t have enough time to be reporting real facts, or even have time to come up with more alt-news. So I thought I’d help out the Trump Admin and come up with some alt-massacres that they can use at their leisure.

1. The Wonka factory massacre, in which a deranged, sugar-high Augustus Gloop, emerged from the chocolate lake to burn down the factory in a fit of rage. Hundreds of Oompa Loompas died, the rest were able to free themselves from the shackles of Wonka’s slave labor.

2. Terror in the city of Gotham by a man known only as “The Joker.” Rumored to have “RIP Heath Ledger” tattooed on his chest, he is at large, armed, dangerous, and will tell you how he got his scars.

3.The Bombing of the Grand ‘Ol Opry in which one opry-goer was so disappointed due to the absence of Dolly Parton that he made a pressure bomb using only a guitar and his wrath. Nobody was harmed, he threw the guitar and it missed the stage completely, barely singing Keith Urban’s perfectly coiffed flow.

4. The “Springfield massacre.” Springfield is the most common name for a city in the United States, and there was probably a massacre in one of them at some point. It’s like a multiple choice test, you have a 25% chance of getting it right.

5.The Dinosaur massacre of 65M years ago. Radical aliens of the outer Milky Way galaxy tried to destroy dinosaur democracy and all that it stands for. We remember our dinosaur comrades with monuments to them in museums everywhere.