#Shockwave is an interesting character

[techbonnie]

When you have time, can you draw shockwave art?

Have Shockwave petting Fluffy ears.

Earthspark is not getting anymore seasons, but I thought the Shockwave lovingly petting fluffy ears deleted scene was cute.

That show had so much potential.

[transingthoseformers]

I feel like a Shockwave and Soundwave body swap episode would be interesting

(I'm biased I'm imagining Shockwave wanting to go down on Soundwave's valve now that he has a mouth)

[margoshamangolord]

guys is this real?

[swervesfirstblaster]

love (ironically) how we went from seeing shockwave immobilized going to ghost headquarters to being mind controlled in the middle of nowhere and he just casually drops that croft betrayed him so ig they made a deal or whatever but for what?? earthspark writers we need the offscreen stuff to be explained better sometimes, specially with the decepticons characters

[paragonrobits]

I take 'Aligned Grimlock doesn't seem to actually less intelligent despite nearly 99 percent of his processor's energy being forcibly rewired into muscle power' and raise you 'that IS what is happening, but Grimlock is just so dang smart that he mostly suffers some mild speech issues despite functionally suffering a nearly complete lobotomy'

[lord-squiggletits]

In general Barber writing the whole "Cybertronians are stuck in an endless cycle of violence" thing was a really good idea but it sometimes felt as if he put more priority on the colonists lecturing Cybertronians about how evil and bloodthirsty they are instead of like, having a shred of sympathy for the fact that they were all collectively traumatized by a 4 million year war and even before the war their society was violent/oppressive/dysfunctional so literally no Cybertronian has lived a life untouched by pointless death.

Like, there's "these characters have an outside perspective so of course they don't understand" in universe logic that I understand and even enjoy, but then there's what Barber did which was basically make the story an endless trudge of people fighting each other and never getting better and there was the fucking Onyx Shockwave story that was "yeah that colonization? Yeah I was actually the one that organized the Primes and said that colonizing was a good idea because I wanted to cause chaos lol my master is death and suffering" so it's like. Okay so the entire history of the entire Cybertronian race was organized by one guy, rendering the decisions of all the other characters (including Shockwave himself) basically pointless.

And on top of that I have to sit here listening to these Camien et al OC's constantly complaining and bitching and moaning about how Cybertronians are the stupidest most stubborn assholes ever, why can't they just stop being petty and stop fighting, why is everything their fault. They say this as their own planets sit on the ruins of colonized civilizations. And one of the primary targets of their criticism and bitching is Optimus Prime, who spent the 4 million year war trying to help organics Not Get Colonized and then spent most of phase 2 continuing to try and Help Earth Not Get Colonized Again.

[shadowcat222]

Tfp Starscream and Shockwave's now one sided rivalry fed by Megatron's abuse and favoritism *froths at mouth*

[keferon]

Hoping for the best but preparing for the worst yea?

Found this speculation on twitter from the trailer-

PLEASEEEEE I'm on my hands and knees begging, PLEASE let this be Prowl

And Jazz speculation, too????

Yall think I'm feral now just wait-

[prettypinkeel]

I made some icons for my megoplita au, so here's some explanation of the relationship between the characters in this AU + icons without text in the end. (this is inspired by other tf universes and various shows, etc., it's not tied to any canon)

Relationship chart:

1)Megoplita family

Optimus and Elita are married here. The two were dating since high school and their relationship only grew stronger through years, eventually leading to their marriage.

Both OP&Elita are having feelings/dating for D-16 (and this is mutual).

Rodimus is a distant family member from OP's side but he visits his family a lot, giving that "cool uncle" energy towards Bee.

Arcee and Roddy are besties, and based on comics, I made her adopted by Ultra Magnus, with Magnus mentoring Arcee.

2) Skystar/Jetstar family

Starscream and Jetfire were also high school sweethearts but they were more "friends to lovers" troupe. Both Star and Jet wanting to become researchers in the future. Eventually, they achived their dreams ⭐.

One day Twitch and Spitfire appeared in their lives, the twins were the important life for the two. Despite being a young parents, they always there for each other.

But after one accident, Jetfire was declared missing/dead and that had a big impact on Starscream, so he had to abandon his dreams and focus on raising Twitch and Spitfire, who are still very young.

3)Megastar family

Somehow, D-16 appears in Starscream's life when he needed someone the most. Their relationship were nice at first, D-16 helped with raising Twitch and Spitfire.

Spitfire didn't really like her new dad, so she still clang to Starscream more. Meanwhile Twitch grew really close to D-16, her friendly personality is irresistible!

But D-16 and Starscream relationship doesn't last long. I see them dealing with their own problems separately, they struggle with something «simple» like just sit down and talk, since none of them wants to bother the other. One is growing distant due to trauma of his soulmate leaving him all alone in this world, the other has no idea how to fix this, in a fit of frustration it all ends in break up. They still think of each other as the reason of it.

4) Colleagues:

I think 13 Primes are alive here, and they trust Sentinel very much to deal with the company.

Elita-One is mostly closed with D-16 since they work together, with Elita being his boss. There are some admiration D-16 feels towards Elita which grows into deeper feelings.

Starscream and Elita dislike Sentinel due to his smug personality. Sentinel makes it his personal goal to mess with Starscream throughout the day, and Elita just gets very protective over D-16.

Sentinel and Arachnid are dating here, but they're free to explore the other options. Airachnid listens to him gossiping about the others or just rambling his thoughts to her, both don't really mind it. They're just that duo who tell each other "exaaaaaactly" lol.

I also like the idea of Shockwave having that tiny crush on Elita but he would never admit it, even though it is very obvious. They're co workers but work in different department.

Airachnid and Elita rarely talk to each other unless it's about business, there's something in Elita that makes Airachnid to take interest in her. Silently staring at Elita from the corner of the room as definition of love language, aaaaaaa :p

[originalwinnerfanfish]

Well, I did it

Megatron - I love his tfp design. Probably one of the best iteration of Megs. He is huge, heavy armoured, his face covered with scars… He doesn’t looks like an ordinary military leader who is only capable of giving orders, but like real warrior who can destroy any enemy with his bare hands.

So, in the WOF version, he definitely shares some features with Princess Burn, not only because of his might, but also because of his horns shape and dirty-dark scales (that absorbed blood of his enemies)

Starscream - Boy, I hate him so much 🤣… but in the good way, trust me! In my opinion, when the show's creators make you feel such strong negative emotions towards a villain, it means they've done a great job. Also, I think that his animation in the show was absolutely incredible, because even though he's a 3D model, he still manages to move like a 2D character, which is amazing!

I feel that in my design he still looks more like a skywing, than an icewing (which is kinda logical)

Soundwave - This one was tricky. I couldn't figure out what his mask would look like, so I just made his face a really dark color. I think Soundwave has both gifts of the nightwings, and he’s equally great at telepathy and a future vision. So he doesn't really need equipment to predict enemy movements, which makes him an ideal communicator in the WOF setting. His Laserbeak is part of the armor enchanted by Shockwave, and it might also allow him to open portals (but I'm not sure with this one)

Shockwave - My favourite evil genius. He would definitely have animus magic and mind reading. I think Shockwave is the only one who has advanced the study of magic so far, precisely because he combined it with scientific knowledge and created safer methods of using it, that don't damage the mind. It's like if a Mastermind got animus magic in books.

I also like to think that he didn't heal the damaged part of his face just so that his enemies would fear him more)

Dreadwing - This man deserved better! It's really a shame that he was removed from the show so quickly due to financial problems. It would be great if his arc got a proper conclusion in season 3.

Considering that I didn't want to make him a hybrid, it was difficult to choose a suitable color palette. So let’s just say, that I tried my best😅

I don’t think that he would have any nightwing powers, but honestly it doesn’t even matter - this guy can make a bombs, what else does he need to be cool

Arachnid - Did anyone even doubt that she would be a hivewing? Damn, she even got her own “Othermind” virus. Her design was the easiest to work with - just a little poisonous ass (suspiciously similar to Maleficent).

Just like Starscream, I hate her, but in a good way. She's one of the creepiest characters in the entire series, who’s acting like a fucking heartless monster, especially with Arcee, but even so, there's always was something mesmerizing about her. I just really like strong female villains

Knockout - Wery bright and charismatic guy, definitely one of my fav cons!

I tried to draw him as handsome as possible. Worked a lot on the face shape and coloring, and as for me it turned out pretty nice (finally).

Most decepticons think Knockout is as stupid and lazy as all the other rainwings. And it's not like he completely disagrees with that. Of course he’s not stupid and lazy, but if it’s means less dirty work on the battlefield, well, he’ll continue act like a tipical rainwing

(I also believe that Megatron keeps him as an “art”)

Breakdown - Fun fact: "Operation Breakdown" was the very first thing I saw in this series. And it was an interesting experience for 8 year old me. Maybe that's why I'm so scared of eye gouging scenes in movies now…

I think that he didn't have any siblings initially due to his parents nature, and even after meeting Bulkhead, he felt uncomfortable among the other mudwings. And this is why he later chose the side of the decepticons. And maaaaybe because of one cute rainwing influence)

P.s.

I think that, being mostly nightwings and icewings, the decepticons are much more concerned about purity of their blood and rarely accept half-breeds into their ranks.

During the war, there were many animus dragons among decepticons, which is why they have so many artifacts that allowed teleportation and communication at a distance. But, honestly, I still can't imagine what Nemesis would look like in this AU

[transingthoseformers]

I keep thinking of the humor and angst, mainly angst, that comes from a carrier Senator Shockwave/IDW Shockwave.

Like he got sparked before Proteus and the Senate subjected him to shadowplay and empurta by someone (idk who so I will just say Orion Pax for the angst). And the shadowplay and empurta fucked with a lot of his programming, especially his carrier programming but in a way where like its still there (to everyone's annoyance and or horror) it just has like a weird delay. Where it takes him awhile to register the cries of his little sparklings but when he does, he will rush to protect them and tend to them.

The other idea is the sparklings were sadly lost during the empurta process and because of the shadowplay mind fuckery, it gave Shockwave intense carrier grief and empty nest syndrome in turn. Which on a bittersweet note, kind of has Shockwave adopting and or creating things he dubs as "his sparklings". May also remember his students from the outliner school clearer too so in secret he dots and cares for them (congrats tarn in another AU idea you get slightly lessed fucked in the head!).

Aaaaa a a a omg Shockwave 😭

Shockop definitely

Both situations have interesting results, and show a facet to post shadowplay Shockwave that wasn't there before

Did he know before the empurata procedure that he was sparked?

Tarn having a slightly deeper connection to Shockwave even after the procedure has to have effects, even if they're slight

[novafire-is-thinking]

No worries. When I sent the ask, I expected to be waiting I while. I know you’re busy.

Anyway, this is so very interesting to me. I have thoughts…

Note: I neither remember, nor care enough about TFA Shockwave to comment on that version of him, so I’ll take your word for it and focus on TFP and IDW. Cyberverse is another Shockwave I like, but I don’t think I’ll get around to him.

Shipping

All canon characters are asexual by default, but for the sake of this post, I’ll assume sexual attraction in Cybertronians is possible.

So…my personal headcanons for both:

TFP Shockwave: Aroace

IDW Shockwave: Sapioromantic + Ace

Except for Pre-Shadowplay IDW Shockwave, I have difficulty shipping Shockwave with anyone, romantically. But if I ever do, verbally affectionate, doting Shockwave is a huge no for me as well. (I make an exception for Pre-Shadowplay Shockwave though. He’s special. But still…no excessive gushy stuff. Bleh.)

As for everything else you mentioned, I agree 100%. That’s exactly how I think TFP or IDW Shockwave should be written in a ship-centric story, if the author is aiming for accurate characterization.

Everything Else

This part of your answer was particularly interesting to me, since I see IDW and TFP Shockwave the other way around.

IDW Shockwave

Pre-Shadowplay: Deeply emotional, but externally distant—except for when one of his personal values comes into play (his passion for science, his rage at Proteus’ actions, etc.)

Post-Shadowplay: Emotionally detached. Emotions rarely reach his conscious awareness. I could see him experiencing mild anxiety or frustration on the rare occasion he’s unable to anticipate a challenge in his plans.

After Dark Cybertron: Emotional, but still remains detached. I say this because, after Shockwave is thrown back in time, he literally says, “…and my newly reborn emotions stirred.” I highly doubt he had his full emotional range back, but I like to think it was still a struggle for him to maintain control over whatever emotional depth was restored.

To me, IDW Shockwave is similar to Nikola Tesla. I’ve obsessively studied Tesla’s life, and when I read Shockwave’s story, I see some similarities.

Asceticism is another significant trait of his [Tesla’s] mysterious personality. This extraordinary person managed to steel himself to become a less emotional person and channel all of his life potential and energy towards one goal: to discover new things and create new work. (source)

There are a few other interesting similarities between Shockwave and Tesla, but I’m saving those for another post.

You mentioned Shockwave and anger. And while I also think it was one of the few emotions he was able to feel, I believe he was primarily motivated by fear.

All this to say, how I prefer to see IDW Shockwave written depends on which stage of his life the fic takes place during.

TFP Shockwave

In the IDW Aligned comics, Shockwave is described as, “The Decepcticons’ master scientist, as ruthless as he is emotionless.”

I have trouble seeing TFP Shockwave as anything besides cold and ruthless (not to be confused with cruel; Shockwave is never unnecessarily cruel.)

To me, he always was, and always will be detached. Any emotional experience is dull/diluted, except anger at those who mess with his work.

“. . .Shockwave, always dispassionate and detached, always following his only passion—knowledge…” —Alpha Trion, The Covenant of Primus

“Shockwave, you would bring down all of creation just to satisfy your own ambition.” —Alpha Trion, Transformers: Retribution

It’s interesting that Alpha Trion uses the word “ambition” here, because TFP Shockwave doesn’t strike me as ambitious in the same way IDW Shockwave does.

TFP Shockwave is different from IDW Shockwave in that he has no higher ambitions outside of discovery for personal satisfaction.

from Transformers: Exodus

TFP doesn’t believe in some greater good like his IDW counterpart does. He’s there to play with discoveries like toys, while IDW is out there working toward his greater vision for “saving the world.”

So, yeah—this is how I prefer to see my top favorite versions of Shockwave.

Thanks for taking the time to share your preferences. It’s interesting to see how other fans see him.

Inspired by your recent tags…

How do you prefer to see Shockwave written, and why?

(I’m especially curious about IDW and TFP.)

Sorry I've had like 3 asks sitting in my askbox for forever now bc school has been kicking my ass 😭😭 but that post came up on my dash again and reminded me to answer this--

BUT UHHHH, so tbh I very strongly see Shockwave as either aroace or demiromantic & demisexual... like. Pretty much all iterations of him, ESPECIALLY IDW and TFP. TF:A is pretty much the only exception to this in which I could see him being closer to just allo... but still somewhere on the demi spectrum... and a loooot of ways I see him written in fanfic makes him very uhh... hmm how do I explain... doting?? Or very Affectionate or... well, all the things people like in a fluff fic.

And yanno that's fine, maybe that's some people's cup of tea but it's not mine. To me, Shocks is very very stoic and dry, even in relationships. I don't even like seeing him in the "stoic person who is soft with their s/o" trope because I just don't think Shockwave is a soft person, in any meaning of the word.

I could see him maybe, like... being slightly less stoic and more introspective and TALKATIVE with someone he likes... and LESS RUDE skdndks and more willing to spend time with them and LISTEN. That's how I prefer to see him written. Someone who is still very quiet and introverted and keeps to himself, even around the people he loves. Like, you know, sometimes he'll have days where he just... needs to be alone and needs you to leave him alone and if you want to be his partner you gotta be okay with that. But he'll also give you more time, speak softer, ramble about the things he's working on, have MORE PATIENCE with you, and... I think he would be more touchy in a very gentle way, like he's studying you.

But outside of that, any kind of gushy or lovey shockwave that says anything even somewhat adjacent to affectionate that isn't something ridiculously stiff like "I find you less miserable to be in company with" just rubs me the wrong way and gives me ick. I think the most affectionate thing I could see him saying is in whump. Like, a moment of desperation that could make him say "I need you", but I think "I love you" is not something he's ever going to be comfortable saying - he shows it, not says it.

TF:A Shockwave is the only one I can make an exception for but it's just because that boy is fucked up. TFA Shockwave is not capable of a healthy relationship SKDSJJDBSKSNS. He's either going to be controlling and possessive in a snakeish and insidious kind of way, or absolute unquestioning devotion. I just don't think TF:A shockwave is... like... as a PERSON capable of being in a healthy relationship unless he went to fucking therapy or had some kind of redemption arc in which case I would place him back in demi territory that is similar to the other descriptions I was talking about earlier.

Writing in GENERAL, without shipping involved? IDW shockwave is fucking insane. He is so so manipulative. He has a million equations and plans going on in his head at all times and he can and will save everyone for better or for worse - and he doesn't care what it takes to get there. That man isn't capable of any emotion except for pursuance of a goal, and maybe anger. Or, if he does feel emotion, it's very very dull and diluted. If he had it restored I think it would destroy him. I read a fic once where Rung accidentally restored his emotions and that one is very very good, I like that shockwave quite a bit.

TF:P Shockwave I think experiences emotions very much, but has a tendency to hide them because he's a very internal person. I don't think he will ever verbally express it, though, unless you REALLY piss him off. For the most part he's very stoic and blunt, and doesn't sugarcoat things... so he will be rude sometimes, but won't go out of his way to be. Some people write him way too cruel and it also rubs me the wrong way... but I also don't like seeing him written too nice either. He's doing his own thing and could really care less about what's going on around him, except for maybe Soundwave who I think he could work well with because of the matching intellect, and Megatron who I think he honestly just works with for the reliable material and the praise (and to piss off Starscream, who annoys him.) I think he can be petty, but doesn't go out of his way to be. I think he values his experiments very much, though, and sabotaging him is a surefire way to get him to try and kill you.

Basically, overall: unless we're talking about TFA Shockwave (who is goofy and cruel), I like a shockwave who is aloof, dry, passionate about what he does to a fault, doesn't talk a lot, respects those of similar intellect, does what he does either for knowledge or to pursue some "greater good", and isn't needlessly cruel. He can show some emotion but not too much, and expresses himself mostly through body language and actions, not words.

[dirichletttt]

I really liked Oppenheimer. I know it's not for everyone, but as someone who is interested in STEM and STEM history, especially pertaining to physics, this movie pushed all of the right buttons for me. I think it did a good job at showing just how flawed and utterly human many of these mythologized historical figures were in real life, and how the Manhattan Project was riddled with internal and external political factors from even before its conception.

I also appreciated just how utterly fucking powerful and eldritch they made the bomb. Obviously a significant portion of the movie is dedicated to the creation of the bomb, but it's often sort of a looming figure in the background. It's the increasing number of marbles in the jar, it's the steady theoretical and experimental progress, it's the dropping of dates for those who know the historical timeline of events. And when it's finally revealed, it's Fucking Terrifying. You pretty much never see the full mushroom cloud in frame; it's always a small portion of it or the flash of light shining on our characters. And the sinking feeling you get when the screen is lit up and you just know, you're anticipating that deafening blast from the shockwave because sound travels slower than light. And you feel guilty in a way because you have the privilege of knowing what's coming, while in your mind you know the victims of such devices had no idea before they were either vaporized on the spot or severly traumatized. It conveys so well the perspective of the scientists on the project, that you've challenged god and, although maybe not surpassing it, made something equally as terrifying.

Character-wise, I don't really have much to say. I do like that the latter third of the movie slowed down a lot to focus on the accusations made against Oppenheimer, which helped to flesh out a range of characters who were sort of just set pieces to Oppenheimer himself before the interviews. And despite my previous statement about breaking down the idolization of historical figures, I was indeed excited like a Marvel fan whenever one of my physics blorbos showed up on screen. "Holy shit it's Niels Bohr!!" "omg Lorentz my scrunkly wunkly!!!" "ITS BONGO GUY OMG BONGO GUY I KNOW HIM" like yeah a lot of them turned out to be Not Great People in their personal lives but I can acknowledge that while also geeking out at their recognition in mainstream media.

All in all, very good movie. I intend to watch it with my mom when I get the chance.

[steelthroat]

Okay hear me out for this one...

40 years of franchise

Optimus Prime has had Elita(g1, tfa, and tfe), no? But also that weird tension with Shockwave(g1 idw), Dion (g1), and of course his obsession with Megatron(everything), right?

Okay, so you know... pretty bi to me :D

But then you have Megatron. So with Megatron, you see Kiloton, Ultra Magnus (idw and Netflix trilogy) Rodimus (idw) Starscream(choose your media) and of course his obsession with Optimus Prime, right?

No women, I see no tension with any female-presenting robot in the franchise, right? I remember him being close with elita in the Netflix trilogy before the war broke out, but I don't remember it being a love triangle kind of thing.

And he once said Nightbird was "hot enough to replaced you (Starscream)" when said mech said "she's not so hot" (g1 cartoon)

Other than that nothing.

We have both make and female characters lusting over him, tho. However, he hasn't reciprocated their avances (unicron trilogy)

SO... what I'm trying to say is that nothing in 40 years of franchise negates the possibility of Megatron being gay since Megatron has never hinted any interest towards women or female-presenting robots.

[sock-has-rock]

How do you feel about ShockBlurrBee (TFA version)?

I like it (not as much as just Blurr/Bee), I think it's an interesting dynamic and could have some really fun character moments with Bumblbee's past relationship with longarm and Blurrs current one adding drama and angst. Especially with Longarm being revealed as Shockwave.

(some quick doodles and the first time Ive drawn tfa Shockwave)

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

one | chapter list

Finding out you're a princess isn't half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can't seem to stop flirting with you.

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au (sort of), all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance james isn't flirty this chapter i lied but he will be <3

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You're in the process of ruining your pyjama bottoms with willow charcoal when your father dies. 

The charcoal is fragile, unhoused, and it snaps with too much pressure. An uneven half rolls into the curve of your sketchbook and stains the work in progress it encounters indiscriminately. 

You sigh without thinking, rubbing your tired eyes and spreading a line of smudgy black under your brow. Squinting, you peek at the portrait you'd been drawing in an unfounded rush. A young woman with deep, dark skin under the shade of the leaves of a sycamore tree. The branches arc over her in shadowed lines, sunlight dappling against her cheek in sparse triangles of white paper left uncoloured. 

It had been an okay sketch. The snapped charcoal distracts from what you'd originally set out to do —a dynamic, revealing portrait— and ruins it, just like that.

You sigh again, this time with a melodrama you'd only ever feel comfortable displaying alone. Thankfully, that's the case more often than not. You live by yourself, no partner, no pets, nobody around to see you drop your sketchbook onto the floor beside your bed, kicking out your feet toward the rug with a pained, indulgent whine. Your socks slide against the hardwood. You kick them fruitlessly as you slip down the side of the bed, shirt caught behind you, exposing your soft middle.

You swear to yourself, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes. 

A sharp trilling sound chimes from somewhere behind you. You come up for air. On the nightstand, your phone is vibrating hard, and the water in the glass next to it crests against the sides in teeny tiny shockwaves. 

You pull it into your lap and stare at the number. It goes to voicemail, and then it rings again. Again, again, and again.

You consider turning it off. Five phone calls and counting indicates an emergency, but every cell in your being begs to avoid whatever it is on the other side. You hate phone calls out of the blue.

You can't avoid everything, no matter how much you want to. You answer the phone. 

"Hello," you greet hesitantly.

The muffled echo of a cheerful voice responds.

"Yeah, that's me… Okay. Yeah, now is fine."

More chattering. Less cheerful, diplomatic.

"My father?" you ask.

You are told two impossible truths. 

"Oh," you say. The walls spin. "Right." 

—

"I hate flying," Sirius mutters.

James hums, noncommittal. 

"You know, my good looks are completely wasted if we end up lost in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. I don’t fancy drowning.”

"It's not the middle of the Atlantic ocean," Remus says, sounding about as interested in Sirius' whining as James is internally. "It's an arm." 

"It's the fucking English channel," James says. It's barely the ocean. "How much do you reckon a pair of in flight headphones will cost?" 

Sirius, despite his anxiety, has the bandwidth to appreciate James' bad mood. "What crawled up your arse?" he asks.

James sinks down into his seat, knees immediately pressed into the hard plastic of the chair in front, back aching and head heavy from a lack of rest he won't make up anytime soon. 

"He's agitated," Remus says. 

"That’s helpful, Moony. Super helpful,” Sirius says.

"Fuck yourself, then." Remus pulls his sleep mask over his eyes and plugs in his earbuds.

The tannoy dings. The seatbelt light flashes. 

A flight attendant raises his voice from the start of the aisle. "If everybody could take their seats and buckle in, we'll be taking off in less than two minutes. Please turn all electronics to aeroplane mode. Thanks so much."  

"Is your phone off?" Sirius asks. 

"No, I actually want us to drown in the channel, but thanks for asking." 

A dark shock of curls brush against his shoulder as Sirius drapes himself unabashedly across James’ lap. Genovian through and through, Sirius makes a plight for affection wantonly, smelling ridiculously nice as he does: a heady smell like browned sugar and warm citrus tickles the inside of James' nose. 

"Are you still cranky that you got demoted?" Sirius asks, smooth tones pitched into bubbly baby talk. 

"I didn't get demoted," James argues, looking down at his friend with a frown.

James had, in fact, been demoted. 

"No, of course not. You've fallen from Third Guard of the Royal Prince of Genovia, may he rest in peace, to glorified babysitter of said Prince's illegitimate, forgotten child. That sounds the same to me." 

"Then we agree," James says, wanting to close his eyes. “The flight attendant is coming our way.”

Sirius sits up again and quickly clips into his seatbelt.

James would pretend to sleep if he thought Sirius would believe it, but growing up together erases any semblance of privacy. Sirius knows James as James knows Sirius, and as they know Remus. Remus likely knows them all better than he'd ever admit, the youngest of the trio and the smartest, most perceptive man James has ever met. 

Sirius isn't perceptive for perception’s sake, he's vigilant. He can read even the smallest signs of unrest, and it makes him uneasy. While James is in a god awful mood, he reaches out to alleviate Sirius' anxiety. 

"I'm fine," James assures him, "just tired." Not mad at you goes unsaid. 

"It won't be as bad as you're thinking." 

"I'm fine. I'm not worried. Didn't sleep last night, and," —he grins as Sirius clasps his arm, their seats shaking underneath them, the plane beginning its race across tarmac— "some scrawny git is squeezing fuck out of my arm." 

Sirius edges away from him. "You're annoying." 

James presses his shoe up to the side of Sirius' and leans back in his chair, wincing at the rattling carriage as they take off, and again when he remembers where they're going. You wait in London, though nobody in the task force assigned to your assimilation or the advisement team could come to explain how you'd ended up there. Your Genovian citizenship is unacknowledged on your passport, your birth certificate, even, and as far as Lily had been able to suss, you have little understanding of who you are. 

"She sounded tired, mostly," Lily had said when pressed for details about the new princess' personality. "In shock. Slightly disbelieving, but could you believe it?" 

Lily, James' friend, and work colleague at a stretch, is an ambassador for the UK and a full-time Genovian resident. Along with a handful of other representatives and officials, she’d been responsible for opening the talks between Genovia and yourself. That is to say, she'd broken the news. 

Surprise! Your dad just died! Double surprise, you're a princess. And, no pressure or anything, but we kind of need you to come back to Genovia to maintain the royal lineage before your grandmother abdicates the throne (unwillingly, if things keep going the way they’re going). 

"Did you mention the tiara?" he'd asked Lily. The Princess' diadem, a master craftsmanship of silver-gold with a diamond the size of an apple. 

"Weirdly, Potter, I didn’t think to mention the jewellery." 

He supposes there hadn't been time to weasel that tidbit in between condolences and recruitment. 

You haven't promised anything in ways of returning to Genovia or taking up the mantle. James understands. If he were in your shoes, he likely would've laughed down the line and blocked the number. You’d shown incredible promise as a potential future leader, agreeing to meet with Lily and her team at the Genovian embassy. Then, a day later, they'd modified the plan and asked if you'd be okay meeting somewhere more private. 

You'd said yes. 

As someone who may be very involved in your bodily safety in the near future, James thinks you're an idiot. Somebody calls you, claiming that you're a princess, though nobody has ever bothered telling you this before because you were never heir apparent, and that they'll tell you more should you deign to meet with them in a place with meagre surveillance, and you say yes to this?

How you've survived as long as you have is a mystery. 

He hopes you won't make his job difficult. Isn't that what everyone hopes? He feels guilty for judging you without meeting you, promising in his head to be nicer to you in actuality. You're probably grieving and definitely confused. He shouldn't be worrying about his job. 

Redetermined, James lets the anxiety of his new assignment water down. 

Sirius is thinking along the same lines: how easy will you make his particular occupation. "Bets are on. Scruffy or sweet?" 

"Huh?" James asks, pretending he doesn't understand in hopes of rectifying Sirius' attitude. 

"Slovenly or love-nly?" 

"I'm sure she's fine." 

"You should hope so, you'll be looking at the back of her head for a while." 

James rolls his eyes. 

"I'll manage, pretty or not." 

His confidence draws Sirius' curiosity. "How're you so sure?" Sirius asks, chin-lifted, light eyes narrowed in bemusement. His expression dances with the surety of somebody well-raised. He could wear a potato sack and his regal air would endeavour, deep-seeded and neat like the trim stitching of his expensive clothes. 

"Look at my face right now. Do I seem affected?" 

Sirius laughs much too loudly at the implication. "Don't act like I'm not handsome, Prongs." 

"Years of practice." James schools his features into an unaffected mask. "Uggos have no effect on me." 

"How else would you look in the mirror?" Sirius drawls. 

When Remus wakes afterward, he finds they haven't quite killed each other, though James has threatened it twice. With one hand, Black.

"Far are we?" he asks. 

Sleep has made little difference to him. He’s the kind of fatigued today that can't be improved with an afternoon nap, and the kind of unwell that can't be fixed. He rolls his neck and makes three separate, unfortunate sounds, stretching his tight hands out over his thighs. 

"Landing any minute now is my guess," Sirius answers. "How are you feeling?" 

He waves his hand around, tired eyes locking onto James' lasting frown. "Sorry for leaving you alone with him." 

Sirius gasps his indignation. The three of them all smile in tandem, James in a rush to add to the joke. 

"You should be, I don't care how sick you are. You're sick in the mind if you think it's acceptable to-" 

"You're sick for acting like I'm some misbehaved child you've been pandering to,” Sirius interrupts. “You're bullies, and as soon as we're in the airport I'm ditching you both in favour of a Great British Burger King." 

"One," James says, still smiling widely, "I have your per diem, so unless you brought your wallet, you're sunk." Sirius frowns. "Two, I'd love it if you would repeat that little moniker you gave me before he woke up. Seriously. Shed some light on the real bully." 

Sirius pulls his sunglasses from his jacket pocket and places them over the bridge of his nose. "Unnecessary." 

"I wouldn't mind Burger King," Remus says. 

"We have to be quick," James says. 

Sirius is so incensed he actually spits a bit as he scathes, "You fuckers. I want food and it's lorded over my head, but Moony wants something and your only limitation is how fast he can eat it?" 

He's not truly as angry as he appears. He's joking, and he's fallen into a familiarity that can only come with years of ragging on one another. Still, Remus pats his tight shoulder and smiles.

"I'm a slow chewer." 

"He's a slow chewer, Sirius. Have some compassion." 

“How fast could he chew missing a few teeth, I wonder?” Sirius asks.

James gasps, delighted at his friend's casual threat. Remus does a better job at hiding his amusement, tamping back a smile as he reaches over the armrest between their seats and slapping a hand into Sirius’ seatbelt. The mechanism unlatches, the ‘Fasten Your Seatbelts’ sign flashes, and a shaming beeping sound rings overhead. 

Sirius squeaks. 

—

What do you wear to meet a British ambassador? A Genovian ambassador? Any sort of diplomat? You aren't too sure what an ambassador even is, only that every word Lily Evans has said to you sounds shockingly official. 

"Your citizenship has been reinstated whether you choose to move forward or not. We want to stress that you have choices," Lily says. Call me Lily, please. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to." 

"We also want to stress," says Emmeline, the Genovian ambassador, who’s priorities don’t seem to align with Lily’s much, "that your presence in Genovia is greatly desired. For the funeral." 

"The funeral," you repeat. 

"It will be a… very, very big event. We don't have to talk about all of the logistics now. Or ever, if you're not interested,” Lily says.

Emmeline clears her throat. "The family would appreciate it." 

The family. The royal family. The Queen of Genovia, your grandmother, and her last remaining son, who’d given up his right to be king in order to marry a divorced woman (a scandal at the time). His daughter, Princess Julianna. The tabloids had had more than enough to say about her.

All this lineage and politics has been hard to navigate by yourself, though rest assured, you've been assigned two personal assistants of a sort. One for appearances of the physical, and one for appearances of the mind. 

A stylist and a tutor. 

"And a bodyguard," Lily says now, "your safety is the most important thing." 

You grip the end of your dress in your hands and squeeze the skirts tightly.

"We actually want you to meet them today," Emmeline says. 

"Whenever they show up," Lily adds. She sounds embarrassed but unsurprised, like this has happened before. 

There's a small silence. You pull your bag into your lap, a ball of nerves, happier to hide behind it. You aren't sure what you're supposed to wear to occasions like this, so you'd worn the nicest thing you owned, a pretty, simplistic dress ruched under the chest, and a cardigan overtop. 

You catch yourself frowning and quirk your lips up into a practised smile. Gentle, amicable, the kind you'd offer a passing stranger. 

"Well," Lily says, filling the awkwardness, "I'm sure they'll come around soon. Maybe we should talk about inheritance." 

"Legally, you're entitled to an inheritance. You could think of it like a pension, an allowance you'd be given from the age of eighteen. You've already passed that, and so you'll be given the years upto, and then the rest in annual increments," Emmeline says. "There's a team of people who can and will explain it better at a later date, or whenever you want to discuss it, once you've agreed to a paternity test." 

"A paternity test?" you ask. 

You feel rather useless. All you've done is ask for explanations since you sat down, your head a spinning mill. Information goes around and around with no time to sink in. 

Emmeline opens her mouth to continue and is interrupted by three sharp knocks. 

"Come in," Lily calls. She turns her gaze to you, orange hair moving over her shoulder in a silken sheet, her eyebrows raised in pity. 

You don't know what it means. 

First to enter the room is a modestly dressed and exceedingly tall man with straight, sandy hair. It's long enough to peek out from under his ears, where it curls gently. He steps into the light, illuminating a shock of shiny scars clawed over the bridge of his nose and teasing up into one thick eyebrow. 

"Sorry," he says, not quietly but certainly not loudly. "We had trouble finding the room." 

Behind him immediately stands a man with dark hair to his shoulders, white but tanned. He wears slacks, in which a shirt has been tucked on one side and not the other, a purposeful dishevelment. 

"And the building," adds the second. 

Last to enter is the biggest of the three. You'd hazard a guess that he's six foot or taller, not the tallest of his companions but the most imposing, with a monotone outfit of pristine blacks that he fills too well, his shirt clinging to the muscle underneath it. His skin is a warm brown that soaks up the big light overhead and shines golden, his hair black and thick, laying in mussed ringlets stroked back from his face. 

He is the most handsome person you've ever seen in real life. It startles you. Worse, when he meets your eyes. 

You smile carefully. He smiles back. 

Lily stands to gesture toward each man in turn. The first, "Remus Lupin," she says, "your tutor on all things Genovia." The second, "Sirius Black, stylist and your guide on media presence." 

The third. 

"James Potter," Lily says, not looking at him. "Bodyguard. James will be sticking closely with you for the foreseeable future, even if you decide on– Well. You should get to know one another, at any rate." You must wear your worries on your face, as she continues, "You're in safe hands. James was third in command in the protection of His Highness." 

“May he rest in peace,” Emmeline adds.

You look between all these new strangers apprehensively. "Hello," you manage. 

Sirius' eyes widen in tandem with his smile. "Hello." 

"It's nice to meet you. We're sorry for your loss," Remus says.

"No," you say, head tilting toward your shoulder as you frown at James sympathetically, "I should be sorry, you actually knew him. I can't imagine how this feels for you." 

"Thank you, but don't be," James says. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Princess."

You look to Emmeline, almost like you're waiting for her to correct him. 

She smiles at you hopefully. "Shall we talk arrangements for your departure?" 

—

James is trying not to look at you too much, though if he is he can write it off as purely protective. You're sitting in your seat on the bus like you're worried about touching a seat mate who doesn't exist, arms wrapped around your middle and face pointed to the floor. He wonders if you have a thing about germs.

"I'll rent a car," he says, tightening his hand where he holds the pole beside you.

You curl into yourself a little more. "What for?" 

"It's much safer." 

"I don't want you to– I mean, you aren't a chauffeur." 

"I'm not." He bends at the knees to speak directly to you. "There are seven other people on this bus. One is elderly. Three are younger than sixteen. All seven could potentially harm you." 

You look to the left without turning your head, toward the sound of young laughter. He'd bet money on your thoughts. Even the children?

"The driver could have an aneurysm. He could be paid off. He could be carrying a concealed weapon." James smiles at you placatingly. "Understand? If I drive, the potential danger goes down to one." 

"Me?" 

"No, me." He tries very hard not to wink and look like a dickhead. "But I'm not going to hurt you. Not really my prerogative." 

"Oh, good." 

James recalls what Lily had said, rightfully: you and James will be in each other's company for the foreseeable future, and while he has a job to do, there's room for friendliness.

He splits his attention between you and the front of the bus, where a small family carts a pushchair. 

"What do you do?" he asks.

You don’t have children, or any family at all. He’s read your file three times over. He knows you attend classes for a degree equivalent at your local college. He knows you're a waitress. He knows you moved to central London when you were very young, and that your estranged mother had been the cause of all this confusion. He asks you because he wants to know how you'll frame it. In your own eyes, what is your life?

"I'm a waitress." 

He nods. "Local?" 

"Yeah, at a pub. The Morgan." 

"You have a shift today?" 

"Not today. I took the day off." You stand up and click the STOP call button on the rail James is holding. Your arm brushes against his. "It's this stop." 

James lets you pass and then trails behind you, off of the bus and straight into a busy street. 

"How far is it to your house?" he asks, loud to be heard over the hubbub and the roadworks. 

"Not long. Are you okay to walk?"

James finds himself oddly charmed by your question. "I'm just fine." 

You squeeze through the pavements lining the street, folded in, keeping your arms close, and you apologise every time you touch someone, even if it's the other person's fault. The school rush, it must be. James keeps close to your back, moving to your side when he worries you might sprain your neck trying to check that he’s following. He has some height on you, which is a good thing for security purposes —he can see uninterrupted over the top of your head.

The day is cool, the last dregs of an end-of-summer heat lingering in the air. James wonders if you're too warm, dressed as you are in tights, but the thought fades when you trip. 

He grabs the top of your arm, fingers sliding between your arm and your chest. Closer than he wants to be, crueller than he means to be as he keeps you steady. To his surprise, you laugh. A really nice sound, sudden but sweet. 

"Sorry, Princess," he says. 

"You saved me," you say, a hint of breathlessness in your tone. "Thank you. My flat's in the next building over." 

"Brilliant." His bag is fucking heavy, a weight between his shoulders that aches when he lifts his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as it begins a heavy descent downward. You've got a long, long night ahead of doing nothing. "What's your address?" 

You tell it to him. "Why?" 

"For the rest of your security detail." 

He slows as you come to the main door of your building. It's quieter here, the loudest sounds a symphony of barking dogs, car engines revving, and the jangle of your keys as you unlock the door and bump it with your hip. 

"More people?" you ask. "Is that really necessary?" 

"Do you always do that?" 

"It gets stuck," you explain. 

He hums. "It's necessary. The media's been encouraged, or paid handsomely, to keep our operation to themselves for now, but there's always pressure to be the first to break a story." 

"And I'm the story?" you ask, nodding toward the stairs in the centre of the room. 

He steps over a bundle of scattered letters. The building is mostly clean, but mail bulges from cubbies, and an old mattress has been left propped against a wall. 

"You're the story," he says, head up to analyse the atrium. There's a skylight spotted with green moss above. 

You climb the stairs to the first floor. Your flat is the first door. That increases your risk of a break in, rapists or robbers. He asks you to wait at the door while he clears each room, knowing it's an unnecessary precaution but taking it anyway. It's not worth saving the half a minute it costs on the off-chance it’s been infiltrated. 

He snorts at his own train of thought, returning to you as you slide a special locking mechanism between the door latch and the frame. You shake the lock. 

"Did you get that recently?" 

You look up at him and smile. "Since I moved in. I'm first on the floor. Don't want to get murdered in my sleep." 

"Smart girl," he says absentmindedly, crossing the room to secure your window. 

He moves into your room again and secures the larger window over your bed. Then, because he's awful and curious, he catalogues your things. 

"You're an artist," he says, head listed toward the doorway. 

You stop by the dresser, hastily stuffing clothes left aside back into the top drawer. "Not– not really." 

The room is a crammed collection of things. It's clear you've attempted to keep it clean. You were doomed to fail, an outpouring of your heart stuffed into a matchbox; books, sketchbooks, notebooks all stacked against the leftmost wall between your bed and your dresser, while paints and pencils take up two thirds of your desk. A small sketchbook rests closed in the mess of your unmade bed, dark sheets disrupted by a pair of white pyjamas discarded at the end. Soot or something similar stains the fabric. 

He averts his gaze from your dirty hamper and faces you. 

"At eight, one of my team will swap duty with me. His name is Frank and I've worked with him before, but if you aren't comfortable with anything he does while I'm not working, you can tell me. If I do something that makes you uncomfortable, you can tell Lily. You can tell me, of course," he amends. "I can take the sofa.”

"You sleep at eight?" 

"I sleep at ten." 

"You don't mind sleeping on the sofa?"

"Not at all." 

You walk to your dresser and pull open the bottom drawer. Inside is a layer of linens, and you take them out neatly. 

"You don't have to, uh, put on a show for me," you say with a wince. 

"Sorry?" 

"I'm not a princess. I'm not the princess." 

"You don't think so?" 

You look sweet, kneeling on the floor, hair in disarray from the walk home. You move it out of your face and offer a folded square to him with both hands. 

"It's a misunderstanding. But…" You take a pillowcase into your hand and stand up, closing the drawer with your ankle. "Even if I were, I don't think you need to be so formal, you know?" 

You move past him in a wave of nice smells.

"It's my job." 

Again, you surprise him by laughing, climbing on top of your unmade sheets to grab one of your pillows. "Right," you say, stripping it of its pillowcase and shaking it into a new one. The tip of your tongue makes a brief appearance as you plump up the corners. 

You climb off of the bed. "Here," you say, taking the sheet he's holding to press the pillow into his hands. 

"Oh," he says, looking down at the pillowcase. It's covered in small pink flowers. "I don't need this." 

"My settee isn't comfortable." 

"Half of my job is being able to sleep anywhere." 

You smile at him. His words don't discourage you, and he stands in the doorway between your bedroom and your living room as you lay down an old quilt over the sofa and tuck a sheet around it and under the cushions. 

"I know it's strange, but you could take my bed, if you wanted to. You're so tall, I don't think–”

James cuts you off, not unkindly. "Thank you, but I couldn't." He lets the side of his chest rest against the doorway, arms crossed. Your back is straight, tense with anxiety. "I have something for you." 

You blink at him. "For me?" 

He grins, his first proper smile all day, and pulls his bag onto the freshly made settee to unzip the front compartment. He pulls out a small jewellery box, pulling the lid off to hold between his arm and chest. 

The tennis bracelet inside is thin but strong, made up of gold-silver links with sapphire-coloured gemstone. He assumes them to be real sapphire or something similar, like blue-hued ruby. 

"This is a panic button." 

You seem more anxious than when he'd pulled out the box. 

"Don't worry about losing it. I'm sure the Genovian coffers will recover." 

"It's not that. Do you think it will fit?" you ask. 

He hadn't thought about it. Luckily, Mary had. 

"There are spare links hidden under the velvet." 

James puts the box on your coffee table and clicks the links into place, handling the bracelet with less care than he ought to. Firmly snapped into place, he offers the lengthened bracelet to you unlatched. 

"Here," he says, pointing toward one link in particular. "If you squeeze this tightly, the heat sensor will alert me."

"It won't feel the heat of my wrist?" 

"It will. It's sophisticated, it'll disregard anything that isn't a sudden spike. That's your panic button. You squeeze that–" He pinches it in demonstration. The small radio clipped discreetly to his shoulder starts to beep, a circling alarm. He removes his fingers from the bracelet and it stops. "Okay?" 

"I haven't even passed the paternity test yet." 

"My being here indicates that you're of special interest. We don't know if you're the princess for certain, and neither do the newspapers, but you could still be in danger either way." 

You press your lips together and hold out your wrist. 

James steps closer to you, enough to see details and lines he's missed. The longer he stays in your company, the more endeared he is to your shy smile, and your quiet kindness. You’re like Remus.

Either side of your wrist glows with heat as he drapes the bracelet over your skin and clicks it closed, wary of pinching you. The room is quiet. The clock over your small kitchen table ticks. 

"There," James murmurs, taking back his hands. 

"Thank you." 

He disregards it completely. "No worries." 

His informality gets you, and you smile your first proper smile since you'd been introduced. 

By the time Frank arrives for turnover, James is confident that his assignment to your protection won't be nearly as awful as he'd thought. You'd insisted on making him something to eat, which he'd been sincerely grateful for as a man can't run on Burger King alone, and then you'd practically showered him in an awkward but entirely genuine hospitality, offering your bathroom and all its contents, every blanket you owned, the TV remote, and a tin of biscuits. 

He introduces you to Frank, and for an hour you make yourself busy in the kitchen, cleaning dishes you'd refused his help with and wiping down the counters. 

He senses your unease at being outnumbered in your own home. Unfortunately, there isn't much he can do to make you feel better, besides appoint Frank to door duty and try to offer some words of comfort. 

James tries not to look as imposing as he feels, clearing his throat to draw your attention as you leave the kitchenette.

"Listen," he says softly, a mirror of you now that you're both changed into lounge clothes and damp-haired from the shower, "I want to reassure you— I'm here to protect you from any and every threat. I know this is unconventional, but I promise to do my best to make this easy for you." 

You look down at your trainer socks. "Sorry." 

"Can you do me a favour?" 

"Yeah, of course," you say, raising your chin. 

"No more apologies. This is hard, and I know that, you don't have to say sorry for anything. I'll promise you whatever you need me to if that will make you feel more comfortable."

Princess or not, you're confused, and you're unhappy in your own home. James wouldn't want that for anybody. 

"Do you think someone's going to… kill me?" you ask. “Just, that’s the danger, right?”

James softens. "No. Nobody is going to kill you." His smile melds slowly to mischief, eyelashes kissing in the corners of his eyes as he squints. "I'm a frankly fantastic bodyguard, okay? Don't doubt my skills. And Frank's alright." 

You laugh under your breath, relieved. "I'm not doubting your skills." 

"Good. I'm not just a pretty face, Princess." 

You sober at the title. The flicker of camaraderie between you fizzles, and you shake it off. 

"Can I get you anything?" you ask. 

He hopes that in a month, or a year, when you're living the high life in Genovia with a hundred serfs and lavish goods beyond your wildest dreams, you'll keep your earnest smile, and your nice heart. He's seen exactly what royal status and money can do to young women. The last thing anyone needs is another Julianna.

"No," he says, matching your volume, "nothing."

"Okay. You can wake me if you need anything." 

He absolutely won't. "Thank you... Goodnight." 

"Goodnight."

You disappear behind your bedroom door. James lays down over the small sofa, alarm set for a dry-eyed 4:30AM, and listens to your flat as it cools. You close the blinds, sharpen a pencil, and for a period of time, he's lulled by the mild shushing of a pencil over paper. 

He falls asleep. He must. A silence settles, thick and uninterrupted as poured molasses. 

A splintering crash pulls him back to consciousness, and every nerve-ending sings as a weight falls to the floor. A thump sounds from behind your closed door. James practically leaps over the settee's arm to your door, Frank hot on his heels. 

He throws open the door, braced for impact, but you aren't anywhere to be seen. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thanks for reading!! i hope you enjoyed this first part, and if you did and you have the time please consider reblogging, it makes a difference! plus i'd love to know what u think or what you'd love to see in future<3

the fics title is adapted from a line in piedra del sol by octavio paz