#i hope the truth becomes clear and i do hope the law gets involved even though that takes a long time

[vesora]

consciousness is the only reality

posted by sensibly_aesthetic on reddit

“This sentence explains absolutely everything when it comes to manifesting. I hope these explanations help things click into place the way it did for me.

Stop reacting to the physical world. For now and evermore. If consciousness is the only reality that exists, why react to the physical world?

That also involves this: stop trying to change the physical world. It doesn’t exist. If you want your problem to go away, just stop focusing on it. Lack of attention to something makes it fade away. You can’t be successful if you keep focusing on and changing the old. You just bring more struggle into your experience.

As your consciousness is the only reality that exists, you already have what you want. There is nothing you have to change (in the physical world) when you have what you want.

The only thing you have to change is your mind. It is all that exists. Absolutely nothing else does. You already have what you want. Creation is finished. Realise and be aware that your wish already exists, it doesn’t need you to help create it, it just needs you to be loyal to its existence. Get used to being aware of your desire, instead of being aware of its lack. You have to BECOME. Not try to get, not try to manifest, but become. All these thoughts are references of something that already exists. So live the life you would now that you have what you want. Let the old story of trying go away, and the new story of having come in.

None of the things you see outside is the ‘truth’. To be honest, nothing is. As consciousness is the only reality, what you think or believe is the truth is what you’ve paid so much attention to in your mind. With all those thoughts and feelings, it had to come into your physical world. That’s why manifesting isn’t about something contradicting the other. It’s about paying all of your attention to something else so it can arrive in your experience instead.

Once you truly understand what you’re supposed to do, which is simply becoming, you might wonder about the when’s, the how’s, the “is it even possible” questions. Let me answer each of them. It is a universal law. The very fabric of reality. It will deliver, no matter what. The fact that you have it in your mind is proof enough, as it is in the only reality. The world will reflect that. As for the other two, it doesn’t matter. The world isn’t based off of ‘this is more logical and likely than the other outcome’. It is based only off of your mind. It doesn’t change, it reflects. Absorb the meaning of that. As long as you have a clear and powerful image in your head, it will bend to answer you. Anything is possible.

The physical manifestation will and must come. As Neville said, the time difference is inversely proportional to the amount of naturalness. I like to think of the physical world as a screenshot of your mind right now. You might ask, if I have it right now, why can’t I see the corresponding screenshot? The thing is your mind is filled with all the old thoughts too. The more you sink into the right mindset, the more evidence you will see. The world doesn’t reflect all of a sudden. It takes every thought and reflects it physically. So it’s happening physically little by little, to reflect the perfect whole image in your head of already having it. That’s why this is a practice. Neville said something similar, to focus on the feeling fulfilled until it crowds all other ideas of consciousness. Don’t keep on changing to having the old story or your progress will be slower, or it’ll even stop. Your mind should be full of this new reality where you already have it. The less you focus on the old story and the more you focus on the new one, the more evidence of your desire you will see.

I’m going to quote myself from the previous point: ‘Your mind should be full of this new reality where you already have it.’ And that’s what Neville was trying to say all along when he talked about changing your reality. He wasn’t telling you how to change the physical world. The physical world reflects your mind, it isn’t a reality. And that process is automatic, you don’t have to meddle with that. He was explaining how to change your mind. By accepting that you have it, and living life from there. He was teaching people how to change their mind to realise that.

Sometimes it’s hard because you see the world and you think, oh no, this stuff is happening, nothing is changing. Remember, the world in every moment is a screenshot of your mind. Nothing is happening, it’s just screenshotting and reflecting. Your new desire is crowding out everything else. You might still see evidence of your old story. But if you’re loyal to the happenings in your mind, that won’t be very long. You have already determined the end result. Stay true to it. Live in that state of mind. You already have it all, so none of the things you see matter. They’re fading away, being crowded by the new image.

[ladyluxury]

Recently, Zabel's full interview was released, generating mixed reactions, especially among Caryl fans. However, this interview didn’t affect me as much as it might have in the past. I think, over time, I’ve developed a kind of resilience to what they say. I've been through tough times, and I spent the last year working on accepting Caryl's relationship.

What I'm going to express here may not please everyone. A while ago, these words wouldn’t have been easy for me either, but I want to make it clear that my intention is not to hurt anyone, and I recognize that I don’t hold the truth.

For many years, we have hoped that Carol and Daryl would get involved in a romantic relationship. We were repeatedly teased with this possibility, and still are. However, this connection never materialized romantically, and it’s hard not to feel like we were used to generate profit. When I realized this, I felt like a complete fool because I dreamed about it, rooted for it, and believed in the promises that never came to fruition. Time and again, they used romantic tropes to catch our attention, but Caryl never became the power couple they could have been in The Walking Dead. It’s sad to admit, but it’s the reality, whether we like it or not.

Many suggest we should complain to AMC, but how many times have we already done that? How many times have we asked and begged for Caryl? We raised hashtags on Twitter, expressed our discontent with carzekiel and daleah, but did it help? If they were really listening to us, it would have already happened. When they don’t want it, there’s not much we can do. I know we try to keep hope alive when we see scenes with romantic undertones or when AMC posts something to spark our interest, but that’s an old TV trick. Just look at shows like "Law and Order" and "The 100," where fans went through the same thing.

Another important point is the attacks on Zabel. I’m not here to defend him, but the truth is, he had the courage to say what no one else did. Melissa and Norman may love Caryl, but have you ever thought that maybe they don’t want to see them together romantically? In interviews, Melissa and Norman say what will excite the fans, and maybe that’s even directed by AMC, but behind the scenes, it might be different. Honestly, I’ve been thinking about this for some time. I’ve gathered statements from Gimple, Angela, and now Zabel, and they all made it clear they talked with the actors. Once, Norman said he wasn’t interested, in Gimple’s words. Angela also mentioned that she talked with Norman and Melissa, and that they didn’t want to go down that path. Now, Zabel practically confirms it. Why do we ignore these signs so much?

For years, my interest in The Walking Dead was maintained by the desire to see Caryl become a couple and by my love for Melissa. I was considering watching the spin-off, not so much for Caryl, as I’ve been accepting for some time that they won’t become a couple, but for Melissa. However, I feel that nothing has changed, and I prefer not to get involved in this anymore. I wish all the success for Melissa and don’t want this series to fail. I’m being honest about this, but for me, the universe of The Walking Dead has come to an end.

[sheepwasfound]

i am out here waiting things out 🧍

[donutloverxo]

A Royal scandal 4

Modern royalty au

Image from Instagram

cowritten with @lizzygal​

Note - There will be no taglists for this. You can subscribe to the  ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia, talks of virginity.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7.8k

Story masterlist

Valkyrie, or simply Val, watched the entire thing unfold before her eyes and was helpless to stop any of it. All of it. All she could do was watch. Much like one would watch a train accident happen before their very eyes.

She had tried. In truth she had.

However, Sarah was the Queen Mother and Val was a member of the Royal Guard.

There was little she could do.

“Your Majesty,” she purred one last time, in one last attempt to save a situation that she knew deep in her heart was not going to go well at all. “Perhaps you would prefer to go inside and I’ll bring them into the reception area?”

Everything was wrong. So very wrong.

Outside the palace was normally empty.

As it was located in the center of the capital. An old historic building from imperial days that covered numerous city blocks, was where the government was run and where King Steven resided. Press knew better than to hang around outside the imposing palace gates as the king never left out them and was uninterested in opportunities to have his picture taken. As did the Queen Mother.

And yet, that morning, a whole gaggle of photographers were lined up and waiting for the visiting royals. Or so they had shared with Val.

Her Grace, Hope van Dyne, never went anywhere without getting her picture taken. In Val’s opinion, she probably had the phone number to every tabloid office in the world.

Sarah’s voice was kind. Soft. Gentle. It made Val want to wrap her queen up in a blanket and make her go inside so she could deal with their unwelcome guests. She stood beside Val at the top of the steps of the palace, provided with a great view of the black sedan that had pulled in through the gates. The flashiest possible way to enter the palace instead of through the underground garage like everyone else.

“Oh no. That’s hardly necessary. They wanted a scene. Let us give them one.”

Not liking the sounds of that at all, her brown eyes flickered over to look at the slim woman with a head of artfully styled strawberry blonde curls, a button nose and rose petal lips. She was every bit as regal as her title, even if she had not a drop of royal blood in her body.

“You can’t think that they actually called the press to say that the Duchess Hope was the woman with His Majesty on the video from the royal banya?”

Sarah’s cool blue gaze flickered to her royal bodyguard before returning back to the sedan so she could observe her former friend climb out, followed by her raven-haired daughter who waved to the photographers on the other side of the iron gates.

That was exactly what Sarah suspected the second she’d seen it in the morning paper. Though she doubted she would ever find out who had started that rumor.

“Have you found out why they’re here?”

Grimacing, Valkyrie shook her head, unhappy to not have an answer for her queen beneath the cloudy chilly winter day. “Not yet Your Majesty. We have reached out to the Maharaja’s Staff and are waiting to hear back. Soon though we suspect.”

Any second now Val hoped her phone would ring so she could tell the queen.

Which led to Sarah turning her head to look away from her guests as they climbed the stairs. She looked away from the large fountain that the sleek luxury car was parked beside and gave her last true smile for what she suspected would be till lunch. Reaching out, she placed her hand on Valkyrie’s wrist. One of her preferred bodyguards. She’d been loyal and had on two occasions nearly given her life in service of her country. “I trust you will find out and inform me as soon as possible. Do not fret. I doubt they will be leaving anytime in the near future.”

Only a lifetime of service kept Val from cracking a smile.

Instead, her dark eyes watched the silver haired Queen of the Netherlands climb the steps towards them. Smiling. Dressed expensively with a heavy coat made from numerous small furry animals.

Queen Janet van Dyne approached as if it hadn’t been years. She came to stand beside Sarah and greet her in such a way that would make for a perfect picture. Or so Sarah noticed. She greeted her as if they were still friends who spoke frequently on the phone and still sent one another gifts. As if their children had married and everything was fine.

“Sarah! How wonderful to see you, you have not aged a day.”

Janet reached out with gloved hands trimmed in mink, leaned forward to place a polite kiss on Sarah’s cheek in greeting and was more than a little surprised when Sarah stepped away. Her own hands remaining clasped in front of her and out of Janet’s. Greeting or otherwise.

“Janet,” was all that came from Sarah’s mouth. A look went from Janet’s coat down to her dress and then shoes, pausing there before coming back up. “Is that the dress you wore to Lizzie’s grandson’s wedding?”

Surprised by the greeting, or lack thereof, Janet paused and then smiled brightly, knowing that though the cameras could not hear them they could capture this image on film. “Yes. We’re focusing on becoming sustainable out in the west. Going green isn’t merely a project meant as royal busywork.”

Sarah could actually feel Valkyrie stiffen beside her at mention of the Green Initiative that Steve had tasked her with and had been far from busywork. It was something that Sarah could go on and on about, one of her many efforts that she busied herself with and yet, she found she didn’t want to expend that much energy on her once friend.

Hands still in front of her, fingers laced together where she could feel her wedding band. Sarah tilted her head slightly to the side. “I wouldn’t know. We remain a governing monarchy here.”

Janet blanched. Her lips formed a straight line, nearly as straight as the way her spine stiffened.

Though Sarah was unable to enjoy it as she turned her attention to the daughter. Hope van Dyne. Formerly Princess Hope but now Duchess Hope, after having been stripped of her title and recently reinstated to a lesser one, in Sarah’s opinion anyway.

Hope looked lovely as ever.

Tanned. Dressed exceptionally well. Smiling exuberantly.

It almost warmed Sarah’s icy heart.

“Sarah! How are you? You look wonderful!” Exclaimed Hope, sounding genuinely thrilled to see the woman who might have been her mother-in-law had things gone differently. She stepped on up with outstretched arms and was greeted with a serene face that looked at her in confusion.

Sarah said nothing. Not a word. Sarah maintained eye contact and looked at Hope as if waiting for the younger woman to say or do something.

Thus leading to Hope blinking in confusion and lowering her arms, looking to her mother for assistance as this clearly was not the welcome she expected.

“Is something wrong,” Hope asked a bit nervously as a winter breeze ruffled the fur on her mother’s coat. Sneaking under the cashmere of her own, as she hadn’t had time to properly shop for winter here. This was her mother’s idea. It was her last hope. Her father had refused to hear her and not even her mother could plead her case this time. This was it.

“I was about to ask you the same.”

Val watched Hope’s confusion and fought hard to not say anything at all, and it was becoming painful to watch in her opinion. Her gaze veered over to all the photographers that were watching more than taking pictures. Even they seemed to realize this visit was not starting off smoothly.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

Val risked a look over at her queen. Her queen who was peering at the young woman who had referred to Val’s people as ‘war criminals’ or ‘superstitious backwoods fools.’

Unable to take another moment of it, Valkyrie cleared her throat.

Finally making Sarah take mercy on Hope who really should have known better in her opinion. “In civilized societies, a duchess would curtsey to a queen. Perhaps things are different for those who are merely ceremonial in purpose.”

***

Someone called your name and for a second, you were terrified that Wanda had come for your ass.

Not that you could blame the best friend you’d had since high school.

Upon heading into the offices of the royal palace that morning, you had intentionally avoided her , secure in the knowledge that she was pissed at you and you really did not want to have the fight you knew was coming someplace public like the office.

So, you’d been groveling via text and promising to go out with her that night for a girls night, swearing on your honor that you would tell her everything! Because Wanda was no fool.

Wanda saw the new dress you had on. Wanda saw your new shoes. Wanda noticed your perfect makeup and styled hair. Wanda also brought up the facts that you’d not been home that night or early morning, as well as the crucial one regarding your flatiron that was still in the bathroom the two of you shared.

Needless to say, you had a lot of explaining to do.

There was no getting around it. You were going to have to tell her about Steve. Sure, you’d swear her to secrecy until everything came out. The palace had made its announcement this morning about King Steven being in a relationship that he would make public soon. A second public statement had come from the Palace PR Guru, Maria Hill, stating that without a doubt, the king was not involved with Duchess Hope after a few rumors had burnt their way through the palace and news cycles.

Besides, Wanda should know. Wanda deserved to know. You and Wanda had come on this adventure post university together. Wanda had to know before it came out in the form of an official palace announcement, or else Wanda might very well skin you alive.

Hearing your name on a female tongue had you snapping up, your attention diverted away from the emails you were checking.

Wanda?

No.

It was not Wanda.

It was an Indian woman in a well-tailored pantsuit. Her dark hair was swept up in a chignon. Her lips a shade of red that had you lowkey thinking about asking for the name and shade of said lipstick. Her dark eyes bore right through you. As if spearing you from your chair and to the wall of your office.

“You are the King’s Chief of Staff?”

While your natural first instinct was to report that was what it said on your door. Professional-you put the kibosh on that right away. Inner you was somewhat intimidated by this powerful woman who looked as if she knew your every last secret.

Head held high this woman so informed you in a tone that let you know she was here for nothing less. “The Maharaja has sent us. Duchess Hope of the Netherlands has stolen from us and is here with the intention of pleading political asylum. While the Maharaja would like nothing more than to have her brought back for trial of the theft of our priceless treasures. I will settle for what was taken and no less.”

Ok. Well. Maybe you thought too soon.

Maybe Wanda was preferrable over this person.

“Oh…goody…” came from your lips with a frown.

“General Odinson sent me here. He told me that you would be able to help resolve this issue for me post haste.”

Oh of course General Fucking Thor Odinson would send this person your way so he didn’t have to deal with this international nightmare of an incident.

Letting out a deep breath, you held up a finger. “Let me just send this out real quick…what’s your name?” And you typed as quickly as humanly possible on your encrypted laptop.

“Ekta. I am with the Maharaja’s Royal Guard.”

Because of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be? Why wouldn’t Hope have stolen from the Maharaja and bounced? Though you’d never had the pleasure of meeting her face to face, you’d heard more than your share about the infamous Duchess, then Princess, Hope.

Typing. Typing. Typing.

“You’ve got any pictures or detailed descriptions of what the items stolen look like? I’m sure His Majesty will be very curious. And, you know, the more information of what we’re looking for the better.”

And done.

With a tap on your laptop, you’d sent out an email to the Finance Minister. Then up you stood.

“Of course,” Ekta answered coolly.

Not that you blamed her. If you were in her shoes, you would have been super pissed off too. Being robbed was never fun.

“Let’s go see if we can track down His Majesty. If not, we’ll make an appointment with his secretary and then go see who is in the office of our Royal Guard. Someone is always in there and I know that Carol, she’s Captain of the Guard, is working right now.” You explained, as if you felt that telling this unhappy woman all these things could somehow make everything right. Probably not. But you still had to try. It was in your nature to fix problems and you most definitely wanted to fix this problem.

Ekta said nothing.

She merely followed you out of your office and into the hallway which was lined with doors and walls of tasteful and probably expensive original art.

You looked to the left.

Then to the right and nearly died then and there at your luck.

How had you gotten so lucky?

There, mere feet away and closing, was not just Carol but His Majesty, deep in discussion about something that was irritating them both.

You had an inkling that you knew what was at the heart of their discussion.

The sight of you made them stop talking and pause in their tracks, which told you that you had been the one that they were seeking.

Before anything could be done, you bowed. “Your Majesty, just the person I was hoping to find.” Up you flourished your hand to gesture at Ekta, who you could feel was beside you, practically putting off rays of righteousness. “We have a visitor from the Maharaja’s Royal Guard. This is Ekta. She is here because of something that concerns the Duchess Hope.”

The reaction that came was almost immediate from both Steve and Carol.

A look as if Steve had suddenly smelled a dead animal came over his face. Carol however cocked her hip to the side, lifted her chin in a dark blue pantsuit, almost demanding in a knowing sort of way. “What’d she steal from you guys? Art or jewelry?”

For the first time ever, you noted a moment of Ekta’s veneer breaking. Like she was taken off balance. “The duchess stole from you too?” Then, almost as an afterthought came, “Your Majesty?”

And this was news to you too.

You had no idea that Hope had taken souvenirs with her that weren’t free to take when she fled the Royal Palace for India all those years ago.

When Steve spoke, his teeth were clearly clenched together. “Yes. Both. She raided my mother’s room as well as the halls for art and pieces that are priceless. Sacred treasures from my countries history that can never be replaced. She filled her suitcase with on her way out.”

“Every now and then an item will appear on the black market. We can only assume that she is selling them when she is in need of money.” Carol helpfully added.

Beside you, you could practically feel Ekta tremble. Shake out of control one could say.

“Is the Duchess Hope here?”

For that you had no answer.

Carol however had one. “Yes. Her Majesty is taking tea out in the gardens with the Duchess Hope and her own mother.”

After being brought abreast of that development, you had a statement to make. One you thought was obvious. But none-the-less, out it came. Maybe none of them knew? “It’s snowing outside.”

Thus leading Steve to turn his attention on you. Finally. And when he did so, he looked at you as if you were only his Chief of Staff. He looked at you kindly without the heat in his eyes from earlier that morning, when he’d woken you up by pushing himself deep into your body until the both of you reached a climax that made your eyes cross and left an impression of his teeth broken into your shoulder.

“Yes. Mother wanted to be sure that the Duchess Hope did not steal anything else from within the palace walls whilst they are here.”

Well then.

Even you had to admit. The Queen Mother could be downright frosty when the occasion called for it. Pun intended.

“She’s having tea with Queen Janet and Duchess Hope outside? In the frigid temperatures?”

You couldn’t quite make yourself believe it. You blinked. You looked from Steve who appeared casual after his statement, like he just told you the winters here were cold. Over to Carol who was pulling out her phone from her pocket. Acting like you hadn’t said anything out of the normal.

“Your Majesty, I’ll take care of Ekta and deal with this issue. If anything arrives concerning this issue. I will contact you. Nakia will come fill my place today.”

If Steve was greatly upset by any of his, he made no outward indication of it other than a nod of his head that he both heard and understood and accepted what Carol had told him. His attention was instead focused on you.

“I have a meeting concerning the Switzerland trip about the proposed embassy. Go get your notes. You’ll be joining me.”

***

Her Grace, the Duchess Hope van Dyne, had finally made it in the palace after that psycho, the Queen Mother Sarah, had the audacity to serve tea in the garden as flakes of snow drifted down. And if that weren’t barbaric enough, afterwards, she then led them around the winter garden as if Hope gave a damn.

Hope had problems and Queen Sarah was not very receptive to any of her attempts to thaw the ice that had formed around Sarah’s heart. Nor did her mother, Janet, have much luck.

When did Sarah turn into such a bitch?

Sarah should have been ecstatic that Hope would even return to this shithole. Sarah’s son was still single, he needed a queen and his backwoods hovel wanted a queen and Hope had royal blood. What more did Sarah need? Did she need it written down?

When did Sarah turn into such a horrible host?

Hope remembered a distinctively different Sarah. When she had lived in this palace, Steve’s mother had coddled her, practically waited on her hand and foot to be sure that Hope was happy and settling in so far from civilization. Where was that Sarah now?

Somehow, Hope had managed to break away, pleading a need to use the powder room around the time her toes and fingers went numb. As she hadn’t had the time to properly shop for clothes to wear in this frigid shithole. India had been so gloriously warm. She’d loved India. Hope would have loved to stay there but things had gone south.

Eventually, like everything else, it’d blow over.

Until then though, she needed someplace safe to stay. She needed to stay somewhere that the Maharaja couldn’t get her. What she needed was diplomatic immunity. However, that wasn’t going to happen since her father refused to even see her, so she’d just have to settle for sovereign immunity. Granted, Hope hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to see Steven and tell him that she was ready to get married now. For crying out loud, he should have been groveling at her feet for her to come back to him. Especially after that sex tape which had been burning up the internet and royal circles. If there was anything that Hope could do, it was bounce back from a scandal.

This was just ridiculous.

The Queen Mother should have been inviting them to this lunch with her son, instead of practically throwing Hope and Janet out. Which was exactly why Hope was wandering the halls in the search for Steven’s office. Toes tingling in her fashionable pumps. Her fingers burning from the warm air in the administrative offices.

Hope would need a whole new wardrobe once she got Steven onboard with her plan. As his current plan of ignoring the sex tape was absurd. These things needed to be tackled head on. With her as his queen by his side, Hope could handle all of it.

Ah, she found herself pleased at the sight of the royal seal over a doorway marking it as the king’s office.

Valkyrie followed her closely. That bitch.

As soon as Hope was queen, she’d be one of the first on the firing block. Following her around like some manner of commoner who might fill their pockets with royal gold. It was absurd. Hope was born a princess and one day she would become one again.

Hope remembered Valkyrie from when she was a young member of the guard and now, she was a Captain and just as irreprehensible as Carol, who Hope also despised. Both of them had to go. Reaching out with a hand that held a ring belonging to the sister of the Maharaja, Hope opened the door and marched right into the office of Steven’s secretary. Who was apparently gone for lunch.

Not that the room was empty.

Nakia, who had been seated on a couch in the office, stood. Dressed in a dark blue suit that all the royal guard wore. Her face stony at the sight of Hope and then darkened further in disgust. She stood tall. Regally. Holding her head high when she spoke down to the former princess. “The king is busy.”

Not that Hope would settle for anything less than seeing Steven in person immediately. She stepped forward. “The king is having lunch with his mother in fifteen minutes. I know for a fact he’s not doing anything of importance. Get out of my way, or I’ll have you selling souvenirs from a cart outside the palace when I am queen.”

At such a statement, Nakia found herself wanting to both laugh and spit in the face of this western woman. One who had referred to her people and country as little more than a backwoods hellhole full of illiterate stone pounders.

How often Nakia had dreamt of being so close to the Duchess Hope, how she thought of ripping out this woman’s forked tongue.

“Let her in,” came Valkyrie’s voice in their native tongue from the eastern regions of the land.

Sending Nakia’s dark eyes past Hope. A knowing expression claimed her features. “His Majesty is in there waiting for our queen.”

A shrug came from the senior guardswoman.

Nakia would be the first to admit, she had not been hopeful when the crown prince had been coronated as a teenager. No one in the country had been particularly hopeful but now, nearly everyone supported their king. His Majesty was a good king who served them all as much as they served him.

Nakia was protective of her king. She wanted her king to marry his Chief of Staff yesterday. Her land was in need of a queen, a woman’s touch one could say.

Knowing what was at stake with the coming lunch that her king would attend with his mother and lover, a visit from the Duchess Hope would not put him in the best of moods. The Queen Mother always grew quiet when King Steven was in such a mood. Why would Nakia allow such a thing to happen?

“Perhaps if he tells her she isn’t wanted here she’ll leave sooner? Let her in. That is an order.”

Pursing her lips unhappily, Nakia stepped back.

She wasn’t about to open the door to His Majesty’s office for this interloper. However, she would no longer stand in the way. Nakia even made sure to send a look that screamed impending homicidal violence. Spurring Hope quickly through the door without another syllable directed at Nakia.

Which was fine with Hope.

Hope couldn’t get away from Nakia quick enough.

Wanting distance sent Hope into the king’s large office without much thought. Looking as if it belonged in an old Victorian estate with dark wood, so many books, old art and thick dark Turkish Rugs.

What Hope did not expect was how much the prince had grown.

No longer a gangly young man whose mother had to have padding sewn into the robes that he was coronated in. This man sitting at his desk was big in every way. Exuding power in a manner that most could only dream and for a second, seeing Steven look at her with shocking blue eyes and stubble darkening his face, she was rendered speechless.

“What do you want Hope,” came Steven’s voice, more than a little annoyed. Far more emotion than she’d ever seen from the young man. Who was now very obviously a man.

This was not the Steven she remembered.

Before her was not the young man she remembered at all. Every last bit of him was very much a king and Hope suddenly, possibly for the first time in her life, found herself regretting many of the past choices she made. It seemed her mother was right. She’d been far too hasty in her youth. Her mother had told her that the prince would mature like a fine wine. Hope had written that off as nonsense meant to trap her into an arranged marriage like so many women before her.

Now?

Now she was looking at a tall powerful man close a very modern looking laptop and turn his attention on her in such a way that made her gut coil. What would it have been like to be the woman in the video? And where the hell did that thought come from? She had been wrong. So so very wrong.

Finally, gathering herself, Hope peered around the office and fussed at the pearl buttons on her coat. “I saw the video…” A noise came from Steven that she’d never heard before, yet, she went on. “…and since we’re still technically engaged, I thought I would return to help you put out the fires of this scandal.”

Another noise came from the king, a derisive snort.

“Wow. That’s cute. Highly amusing coming from you.” Though there was no hint of heat or passion in his words that had been so evident on that video. In her opinion, he didn’t even sound bored. Worse. Steven then leaned back in his seat, peered around her and asked, “Who let you in here?”

Those words, those uncaring words as if she were little more than the two guards outside his office made her burn, bristle.

Which had Hope clearing her throat, bristling one could say. “Actually, it’s more than cute. If you recall, I come from a distinguished royal house. Our engagement is a legally binding agreement.”

For the reaction she got, she might as well have told him it was showing outside.

As she was prone to when there was silence that needed to be filled, Hope pushed the waves of dark hair over her shoulder. She shifted from one foot to the other and watched Steven lean back in his chair.

Finally, as if sensing that she wasn’t going to leave, Steve offered her a shrug. Finding the mere sight of her numbing. He could have cared less what she did one way or the other. So long as she stayed out of his room. He had valuable things in there that he was fond of. “I’m not marrying you. Do with that as you will, you’ll find no sanctuary here.”

This was most certainly not the Steven that she had left all those years ago. It took Hope a second to collect herself, to steel herself. No one had spoken to her in such a way in quite a while. Her brain screamed at her that damage control needed to be done but she was not sure how. In what way? What did she say?

Hope’s brain screamed at her that the plan was failing, everything was going wrong. This was not supposed to happen this way and now she was failing horrendously. What did she do? How could she fix this?

Pricks of pain came from her fists as her nails dug into her palms. Telling Hope that when she unclenched her fists, she would see blood. “You have to marry me!”

Oh this was bad.

This was really really bad.

Across the expanse of his desk, Steve remained calm. Almost to the point of uncaring and such demeanor was reflected in his words. In the way his broad shoulders shrugged and how he rubbed his rough cheek, as if that were more interesting.

“I do not need or want your assistance for anything, forget that video. There is no reason for me to be ashamed of it.”

“Steven! Listen!”

He could see the desperation on her face, hear it in her voice and after so long, he wished he could say that it was rewarding. He wished that he could say it made him feel better after everything that had happened.

It didn’t.

There was just nothing. Little more than cold numbness. Steve felt absolutely nothing.

Nothing was there anymore.

When he looked at Hope there was nothingness.

It reminded him of his father. He hated when he felt that way, when he thought of his father. There was no one on this earth that Steve loathed more. It was his very purpose for being, to not be his father. To end that cycle. To let it die with him.

Most irritably, he shifted in his seat. His eyes found the picture of you both on his desk from a trip to Scotland.

Hints of his father swirled with every syllable only furthering his inner revulsion with himself, his genes and heritage.

“When you left, I did not officially break our engagement as a common courtesy to your father. No more no less. I am a king. You cannot compel me to do anything.”

Pools of blue found Hope again though. A little bit of serene malice hovered between them.

“If you continue to be an annoyance, I will. I am a king now. I have a country to govern. I do not have time for the childish games and pursuits that occupy the western families.”

“Steven this is serious! I could go to prison! In India!”

May his ancestors help him, his first initial response would have been to remind her of her place, remind her of how he should be addressed.

His Majesty.

Exactly as his father would, he swore he heard his father’s voice in his ear.

“You have to help me out! I’m begging you! I don’t care about that other woman. You can have all the mistresses you want!”

A peek down at his watch told Steve that he had minutes to wrap this up and go collect you. Minutes. He had minutes to regain his sanity before he saw his mother.

Minutes.

“Steven!”

Standing from his chair, he shook his head. Doing his best to silence the sound of his father telling him he was not good enough, was not worthy, was not fit to rule. His voice was soft because Steve would not yell like that man. ��No Hope. I’m sorry, but no. You remind me of my father. You make me feel like him. You bring him back to life and I cannot live with his ghost. So no. You will have to deal with the consequences of your actions like the rest of us.”

Her eyes went wild.

Steve could see it and was glad he wasn’t within reach of her. He watched her grab a Fabergé Egg from the end of his desk.

Colorful glass accented in gold with rubies around the middle. It fit in her hand but only just, being the size of an ostrich egg and then it went soaring through the air where it smashed loudly into a wall. Denting the dark wood and shattering. Smashing into dozens and dozens of colorful pieces that fell to the floor.

Having felt the very loss of hope itself, she turned to set her storm on him. “You’ll regret this, Your Majesty.” Before turning and leaving, slamming his office door behind her as hard as possible. Leaving Steve with the sound of his father telling him that he wasn’t worthy.

***

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

It was a question for the ages.

A swipe or two of lipstick always gave you the courage you needed in any occasion. But then again, this was not merely any occasion. This was lunch with your boyfriends mother to officially meet her and get to know her, because you were in a serious committed relationship with her son. Because you loved her son.

Oh, and her son was the king, so there were expectations on that already plus with her being the Queen Mother, that was sorta already an expectation of its own.

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

You wanted to look your best because the Queen Mother always looked immaculate. But you also didn’t want to risk getting lipstick on your teeth. Leading you to peer once more into the bathroom mirror.

No. No lipstick. If you put on lipstick you’d be thinking about your lipstick and you needed to focus on making a good impression.

Otherwise, your makeup looked fabulous. Really. Five stars. Two thumbs up.

This had you stuffing your makeup back into your purse and kinda sorta looking up when the bathroom door opened, shut and was locked. Because really. Why would the door be locking?

In the art deco styled bathroom, Steve’s form was very clear and your eyebrows shot up.

Luckily, you were alone, considering how beyond pissed off he looked. One hundred and ten percent not fit to have lunch with his mother. Not with him in this condition.

You had no idea what happened, but something had happened.

He crossed the red and white marble tiled floor. Walked past the gilded edged stalls and stained-glass doors to where you stood at one of four sinks with bronze fixtures and ornately framed mirrors.

To be honest, it was your favorite bathroom of all time. Your Instagram was full of pictures of this bathroom, selfies in this bathroom, up-close pictures of the stained glass.

“Are you ok?”

Beneath his smoothly shaven face, his jaw twitched. “Fine. Are you ready?”

He was tense enough you wouldn’t have been shocked if his joints started to pop, or his teeth cracked from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Seeing him like this was a no go for Queen Sarah. Everyone knew that she hated to see her son like this and at first you never knew why, not until someone had told you that her husband had the same mannerisms. Steve’s father done the same thing when he had been angry.

While it was common knowledge that Steve was not his father, Steve would never hit his mother.

Some memories could just never be wiped clean.

Having Steve like this was not how you wanted this first lunch with his mother to go. Not one bit. Both of them needed to be on cloud fucking nine. Meaning you were going to have to do something.

“Almost,” was what you told him. A plan already set into motion as you grabbed a few paper towels from the bronze dish that held them between sinks.

One last peek at your hair and you were set. Purse in hand. You stepped on over to press your lips to the flat firm line that was Steve’s mouth. “Could you hold this for me?”

Steve never questioned you or thought twice.

Whether it was from love or trust, or he was too angry over whatever? No one would ever know.

But you seized the moment! Pounced on the opportunity.

You acted as if you were going to check your pumps and instead, set down the paper towels so you could kneel at his feet. Before Steve even had a second to think about it, you had his pants unbuttoned, unzipped and down around his knees. Knowing that the king went commando that morning worked seamlessly into your plan.

His dick hung softly between his muscular creamy thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold my purse with both hands, Your Majesty.”

Though soft, his size was still above average. His penis was solid. Thick. A pink tip peeked out beneath foreskin that was stretched over his member. Soft as velvet, you kissed his slit as you pushed his foreskin up to reveal his shaft.

“Remember the first time I ever saw your dick?”

You sank down on his soft flesh after, sucking him in till nearly all of him fit in your mouth. It rarely happened. Only when he wasn’t erect. When Steve was erect, it wasn’t physically possible unless you unhinged your jaw and didn’t have a gag reflex.

“Oh god…” he gasped out at the warm and wet sensation of your mouth closing around him. Cold air on his ass cheeks. Exposed. Vulnerable. His sac hanging heavy and you down on your knees, taking nearly all of him in your mouth.

Steve clung to your purse like a lifeline.

Thinking back, you hummed out thoughtfully, knowing how fantastic the vibrations felt on him. Knowing that the warm softness that was his dick would soon harden. Until then, you enjoyed how you could take him like this. You relished the smell of him, musky and male. Savored how smooth his skin was on your tongue. Reached up and cupped his testicles that hung down for you.

It’d been at a fundraiser.

A black-tie affair for something or another, who could remember?

The two of you had stolen away towards the end, snuck off when everyone was mingling together and socializing. Slightly tipsy or buzzed from the open bar.

Not the two of you.

No.

Both of you had barely drank. Focused instead on getting away so you could steal some moments together. Moments like these. Moments where your hands were all over one another, your mouths hungry for one another. Frantic for that connection between your bodies that nature demanded and you both were trying so hard to make happen.

Tonight was the night though.

You were determined.

Sucking him deep. Swirling your tongue around him. You could feel Steve starting to thicken up which had you popping off his mouth and surveying the sight of his dick taking on a pinkish hue as blood filled it.

“Are you thinking about it, Your Majesty? About how fucking big your cock is? About how it shocked me? Remember?”

Based alone on the sound that came from Steve, you could deduce that he remembered. Possibly even vividly.

“I remember,” you cooed, licking his pink head and suckling on the end of his dick. Flicking against the hole with your tongue. Massaging his balls. Taking his hardening shaft in your other hand. Needing him to feel only you. Needing him to be here with you. “It was the biggest dick I’d ever seen in my life.”

”You don’t have to.” He had whispered to you in a dark corner of the atrium. Hidden by plants and furniture.

Not that you’d cared.

By that point he had gone down on your countless times and you’d never seen it. Only feeling it through his pants when you’d made-out or groped him, when your bodies rubbed against one another in a frantic urge for completion.

“Jesus Christ Steve! You’re the only man I know who doesn’t want his dick sucked.”

“It’s not that…” he came back with, pausing and finally giving in, allowing you to unzip the black pants of his tux and yank them down. Pull them down and out it popped.

Erect.

Hard. So hard.

Foreskin drawn back to reveal an angry red head smeared with pre-cum.

It was massive, a beast, the hugest dick you’d ever laid eyes on and from on your knees, in a ballgown, made up to feel like a princess. You gasped. You straight up gasped like you were a teenage girl seeing your very first penis. Albeit, the one that was so full of blood it bobbed eye level with you, pointing upwards, was considerably more impressive and probably five inches longer than that first ever dick, easy. As you didn’t exactly have a tape measure on you for comparison.

“Oh my god…” you whispered, well aware that your eyes were wide and mouth was very likely a perfect O. “It’s so big! It’s like the biggest I’ve ever seen! Steve your dick is huge! What do you feed it?”

His voice was a bit concerned. Embarrassed even?

Was he embarrassed about this behemoth in his pants?

“I’m sorry, I know. It can be uncomfortable to give me oral sex. You really don’t have to. I don’t expect.”

But you had cut him off with grabby hands wrapping around his erection, pushing up his foreskin and licking the salty jizz that was starting to ooze out. “Shut up, Your Majesty. Tell me how you want it.” In your ministrations you had lifted up his generous manhood and set eyes upon the heavy balls that hung down between his thighs. “Holy Canada! You have a set of balls to match. You have no idea how much fun I’m going to have fitting those in my mouth.”

When you finally ripped your eyes away from his sexual organ, you shook your head and admonished him severely. “I cannot believe you’d keep this from me!”

Exactly how you knew Steve liked, you sucked on his head and played with the tip of your tongue on his hole. You took him as deep as you could as his erection grew harder and harder in your mouth. Tracing your tongue along the sides and pumping him with your hand until his girth grew so wide, you were unable to touch your fingertips around him.

Up and down you sank on his cock. Till he was rigid beneath your lips and you drug your teeth along at times to heighten the sensation.

Slurping. Squeezing his balls. Hollowing out your cheeks and swallowing any salty release that began to dribble out. You savored the sight of his fingers clenching your purse tightly and his eyes screwed shut.

Between languid trips up and down his length, you pulled off to lick his blunt tip with the flat of your tongue.

“What are you thinking about, My King?”

At first, you didn’t think he would or could answer, which was fine. Your attention was on the round edge of his organ. Licking it. Flicking it with your tongue. Playing with it till you sank back down.

After a few seconds.

After a deep breath from Steve.

After that, he managed to get out.

“Thinking about that night. The night I took your maidenhead.”

Your maidenhead?

Well, that was a trip to past. It sent your eyes up and your mouth back off him so you could speak without a mouth full of dick. “Mmm. Thinking about how you went crazy? How you went all feral and popped my cherry?”

In your hand his penis twitched.

It was too perfect an opportunity to not pounce upon it.

If you couldn’t make him come from saying these filthy disgusting true things to him, did you really deserve to marry this man? “Your Majesty? Does it turn you on to think about my having been a virgin? About how you’re the only man to ever be in my body? Do you remember how tight I was? How hard you had to push to break my hymen?”

Little motions came from Steve. Whether he knew it or not. He was making small thrusts into your mouth that you hummed around, sucked on.

Something hit the floor.

Hands were on your head, fingers were in your hair. A wicked smile curled over your lips and Steve was methodically pumping into your mouth.

He sounded strained. He sounded like he was in pain.

“Felt so good. You’re so good to me. My angel. You were so tight.” He declared, announced, would have shouted to the heavens if he was capable. Each word came out in cadence. Almost in a chant. “Felt so good. Feels so good still. You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.” On top of feeling you sucking him deep. Paired with your fingers holding his testicles tight. Mixed with your fist wrapped around his base. It was a glorious storm coming together to make him shatter.

Steve was going to come. He was going to come like right now.

It sent his thoughts spiraling along with his words.

“Love you. Love your body. Love being in you. So warm and tight and mine. All mine. All of you is mine. Want you. Want to fill you. Want want want.”

Gasping out. His breath gone. All air left his lungs when Steve climaxed into your mouth. A pitched noise did come that was followed with his fingers pulling your face against him, his pelvis pushing into you. A moan that made him weak in the knees followed that told him you were pleased with him. You were happy.

If he died in the next moment, he would have been a happy man.

All Steve could feel was pleasure. It consumed him body. It whited out his mind. It made his balls empty into the warmth of your mouth, till he was certain that nothing remained.

Even then you weren’t done.

Helpless. Awestruck.

Hopelessly devoted, Steve watched you drag your tongue around him to clean him up. Catching the last few spurts of ejaculate on your tongue before you showed him, then swallowed his seed.

Rendering him panting and sweaty.

He dropped down onto his knees and he kissed you. Mindless. Unable to think about anything else other than your mouth and being lucky enough to have convinced you to be his woman. Steve kissed you deeply, uncaring about the fact he could taste himself, unconcerned when his tongue curled around yours that he might have gotten some of his own ejaculate. His Majesty didn’t care.

Nor was he overly concerned about his knees being on the cold marble tile when he groaned against your mouth. “Love you. Love you so much. Love you to the moon and back.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By Your Doorstep (Part 8)

Summary: The reader and Sam try to find a way to ensure John leaves them alone while Dean has a sweet moment with Tessa...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, bad parenting, past child abuse, manipulation, angst, fluff

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

_________

Reader’s POV

“Hey, Mr. Valens,” you said when he came into the reception area about twenty minutes after you’d left the house with Sam.

“Y/N! Everything alright? You’re not in trouble are you?” he asked, giving Sam a look. “You look familiar.”

“I work on opposing counsel for the Druman case,” he said.

“You’re that son of a bitch that got a delay. That was good work,” he said. “A friend of Y/N’s is always welcome although I have to ask what exactly is going on that you’re here after seven?”

“Mr. Valens this is Sam Winchester. His brother Dean is my boyfriend. They knew my dad years back. He might have kept a file on them and I was wondering if you might have it since I know you took over my dad’s stuff?”

“Well I can’t allow you to go looking through the file cabinets and certainly not a lawyer from a rival firm,” he said. You frowned and he smiled. “Sam, you wouldn’t mind waiting out here. I’m sure you understand considering our prep is going on right now.”

“Of course. I’ll hang here,” he said. You walked through a set of doors into some offices, walking down the familiar hall. 

“You guys renovated,” you said.

“A few months back. We wanted a little more modern touch. Your dad’s idea actually. Finally got it going,” he said. 

“He always had a thousand things going at once it seems,” you said. You walked into his office, Mr. Valens going to a file cabinet in the corner. He dug around in the bottom drawer and pulled out a folder.

“Winchester boys. I’m guessing this is them,” he said. He took a seat at his desk and opened it up, lifting his head after a minute. “Y/N. Why do you want this file?”

“Mr. Valens. Let me have it,” you said. “Please.”

“There’s a reason your father never escalated this to law enforcement,” he said, shutting the file. “What are you involved in?”

“Mr. Valens. You were my dad’s partner and best friend and Tessa and I haven’t heard from you since two weeks after the funeral. You helped me get access to our trust but you left. We needed help. I needed help. You’re a lawyer. You could have made life so much easier. But you wouldn’t pick up the phone. The least you can do is give me that file.”

“You weren’t a child when they died, Y/N.”

“It doesn’t mean I wasn’t devastated. It doesn’t mean I was ready to change my whole life to become a mom to my sister, my very hurt baby sister. I just needed a little bit of help with paperwork and you couldn’t even do that for your best friend’s kids. I want that file, Mr. Valens.”

“You should stay away from those boys,” he said, handing it over to you.

“Why?”

“Their father is an ex-cop. Why do you think your father never escalated it? He needed hard evidence to make that kind of accusation,” he said. 

“Can you help them?”

“Y/N, why are you digging around in the past.”

“He came to our house and hurt Dean tonight.” He shut his eyes and ran his hand over his face. “I’m tired of people I care about getting hurt. Is there anything we can do to get them to leave us alone?”

“I’m sorry but unless he does something and you report it, I can’t do anything without hard evidence.”

“I have a recording of him beating up Dean.”

“He could very easily walk on that charge. My suggestion would be to get you and Tessa out of that house and away from those two for good.”

“You’re a dick,” you said as you rolled your eyes. You started to leave and went past a conference room, wide eyed when you saw John Winchester walking out with another lawyer. “What are you doing here?”

“None of your business,” he said. Mr. Valens cleared his throat and pulled you back into his office, shutting the door behind him.

“He’s right next door and you don’t care to mention that?”

“He’s a client for another lawyer.”

“No, I was stupid to come here was all. You don’t care about anyone or anything except money. You’ll work with a guy like that and let him keep hurting his kids as long as you get paid. I’m glad my father didn’t have to see you for who you really are.”

“Do not put words in my mouth,” he said, staring you down. “I said he is a client. Plenty of people need lawyers, including bad ones. I did not say I knew about his past with his sons. I do not condone that and that is exactly the kind of person I enjoy putting in prison. As a lawyer, I’m telling you that you either need very, very hard evidence of something he can’t get out of or you need to not antagonize him and hope he stays away. As someone who has watched you grow up, get you and your sister away from those Winchester boys. You do not know what he will do and that is dangerous.”

��Dean’s in danger. Sam’s in danger. Tessa and I aren’t leaving them.”

“You need to think of your sister, not your boyfriend.”

“She loves them like they’re her big brothers. She is happy, the happiest I’ve seen her since the accident. We’re not walking away from our family. We’ll figure this out ourselves.”

You went to leave when he caught your arm.

“I’ll do some digging. He’s no longer a cop but if he did something dirty, it might be enough.”

“Thank you.”

“Be careful, Y/N.”

You left and walked down the hall, John waiting by the doors out to the lobby. 

“You Sammy’s girlfriend?” he asked.

“Dean’s,” you said.

“Your boyfriend going to keep up our arrangement?”

“Why don’t you just leave them alone,” you said.

“I do.”

“Tell that to Dean’s face.”

“He understands that the arrangement-”

“You got nothing on him and we all know it. We will let the past stay in the past as long as you never come near them again. I’m friends with the senior partner here so if you want to try something, I have a very good lawyer waiting in the wings.”

“To tell you the truth,” he said, leaning down to your ear. “It was never about the money. Sure it was nice but I mean he’s so pathetic he never even realized there was no proof. That’s what I get for letting him spend all that time at his uncle’s place. You do realize you’re dating a dumbass don’t you?”

“If it’s not about the money then why did you go to our house?”

“You saw the look on his face,” he smirked. “Fancy ass doctor is nothing more than a little bitch that-”

“Fuck you,” you said, slapping him in the face. You went to leave when you felt a shove from behind. You turned and glared, catching Mr. Valens coming down the hall.

“What the fuck is going on here?” said Mr. Valens. 

“She tripped,” said John.

“Oh well now you’re officially on the top of my shit list,” he said, walking over and getting in John’s face.

“Exciting,” said John. “I bet that’ll work out well.”

“Y/N, leave,” he said. You ducked out the door, Sam sprawled out on the couch.

“How’d it-”

“Let’s go. Now,” you said, both of you turning when you heard the doors open.

“Sammy,” said John, Sam swallowing as he stood up. John glanced over at you and smirked. “You know Dean’s been paying me for years to-”

“Go fuck yourself. With a cactus,” said Sam. John smiled and cocked his head.

“You Sam, you always had that fight in you Dean didn’t. I didn’t have to toughen you up. It was just there already. I’m just sorry to have to be the one to tell you that Dean...he doesn’t really love you. He only took you because he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone. I mean he abandoned you. You remember when you called us to help you out cause Dean was too busy partying at school? You remember who took care of you?”

“Sam. He’s just trying to fuck with you.”

“Dean’s human. He’s allowed to have fun and I called you as a last resort. I would not do it again,” said Sam.

“Funny. I don’t recall ever once laying a hand on you. I mean did you ever see me ever put a hand on Dean?”

“You were such a dick. Just because I didn’t see it doesn’t-”

“You know he got bullied right? Blamed me for that. Blamed us for all of his little problems. Then he took you. I can’t forgive him for that. But you had no choice and who knows what lies he’s been filling your head with for years.”

“Sam.”

“And this one. Dean her knight in shining armor? She’s just using him and you know it. For all you know she did that to him. Go back to your old city Sammy. Get out from under his thumb. It’s what’d I’d do.”

He left the building and you put your hands on your hips, Sam giving you a glance.

“Do not look at me like that,” you said. “I watched him beat up your brother tonight.”

“You did almost hit that yoga woman.”

“Because she hurt Dean,” you said quietly. “Your dad literally just shoved me in there. He knows he’s got nothing left except getting you to hurt Dean too. He’s so controlling Sam. That’s all he wants to do is control the two of you and making you fight means he wins.”

“Dean gives you everything,” said Sam.

“I love him.” He seemed to stop whatever he was about to say and you looked down. “And I love you too and I didn’t want to love anyone ever again so that’s a really big deal for me. He makes me happy Sam. I’d never hurt him. He’s my best friend. He’s your best friend too and he has gone to hell and back for you since he was a child. Please don’t listen to John. Believe your brother.”

“Dean used to say to me that he got wailed on but I got the manipulation worse. I think he had that pretty spot on,” said Sam, closing his eyes. “You love Dean?”

“I haven’t exactly told him yet,” you said with a shrug.

“Pretty sure the dork knows,” said Sam. “Just like you do.”

“I hope so. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Let’s head home.”

“Do you believe him?” you asked.

“You know every morning, every morning, you make Dean a cup of coffee and you either put it in his thermos or a cup for him. Every morning you do that.”

“So?”

“You wash out his thermos every night because you know it’s his favorite. On the weekend you put it in his blue mug and have it ready for him along with a cheese danish that you picked up the morning before on the way to work. That’s just one thing. You care about him and he lets you take care of him and Dean doesn’t do that. I’ll always pick my real family over my parents any day. I’m never gonna turn my back on my brother.”

“Thank you,” you said.

“Did you make any headway, on anything?”

“The partner is gonna look into him but hopefully he just stays away from now on knowing he’s got nothing left to hold over you guys.”

“I hope so too.”

Dean’s POV

“Tessa, I’m fine,” said Dean, wincing as she put a fresh cold ice pack on his ribs.

“I guess it’s true. Doctors are the worst patients,” she said. She hopped up when the doorbell rang and Dean sat up. “It’s just the delivery guy.”

“Tessa I can-” said Dean before he ran off. Dean sighed, Tessa coming back a few minutes later with some styrofoam containers. “You need to be more careful.”

“You think your dad is gonna punch me? A high school girl?” she said.

“I don’t like testing that theory.” Dean scooted back against the headboard, Tessa handing him some utensils and one of the containers. She sat on the other side with hers, watching the TV and eating up some pieces of chicken. “Tessa.”

“Hm?” she hummed.

“If you want to go over to Jack’s that’s okay,” he said. “I didn’t mean to ruin your date.”

“I think my sister put me in charge of you. Jack’s cool with it. We’ll hang out tomorrow,” she said, eating more of her food.

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m not the one that got punched in the face.”

“Still. Things can be triggering,” he said.

“I don’t get why you didn’t hit back I guess. I would have.”

“I’ve spent most of my life afraid of my dad. I still am a bit unfortunately.”

“Well you’re obviously not like him. At all,” she said. Dean smiled and started to eat, Toast licking his toes every so often. “He knows you’re hurt. He does that when he wants you to feel better.”

“Animals are very intuitive like that,” said Dean. It was quiet for a few minutes as they ate, Tessa shifting in her spot eventually.

“Dean.”

“Yeah?” he asked, mouthful of macaroni.

“Do you love my sister?” she asked. Dean swallowed and set his food down in his lap, smiling at it.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Why not tell her then?”

“I think she knows just like I think I know that she loves me. I think we’ve both been through so much already that it’s not always in the words how to say you love someone. Actions, those are as important, more important in a way. Your sister is kind and good to me in a way I never thought I’d have. I love her very, very much. I love you too.”

“She smiles again,” said Tessa. “She’s a better person around you.”

“She was always a good person. She just needed some else to lean on for a moment. That’s what a relationship is. It’s why she’s pissed as hell right now and standing up to someone I couldn’t.”

“I know you took Sam away from your parents. That was badass too,” she said.

“Maybe.”

“Are you gonna marry her?” she asked. 

“Also a maybe.”

“Do you want to?”

“Would you be okay with that?”

“Yeah. Are you asking like my permission or something?”

“Well, I’d still ask no matter what you say but I’d like to think you’d be alright with it.”

“I’m confused.”

“I’m not asking right now...but maybe hypothetically I will ask in the future.”

“Oh,” she said with a nod. “I got you. When you’re done being shy be sure to let me know.”

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” asked Dean with a laugh.

“It’s one of my best qualities,” she said.

“Sure it is,” he said as he reached over and ruffled her hair.

“Dean?” she asked when he picked up his food again. “I know she’d say yes, whenever you do decide to do it.”

“I said maybe I recall.”

“Maybe it’s not always in the words but the actions,” she said, smirking at him.

“Got me there,” he said. “Let’s not tell Y/N about this though. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Reader’s POV

Three Days Later

“Hey, Dean,” you said as he stirred awake beside you. He smiled and snuggled into your side, covers tucked up under his chin. “Sleep good?”

“Yeah. Better,” he said. You carded your fingers through his hair and he slowly opened his eyes, sleepily watching you. “I don’t think he’ll try anything. It’s been a few days and it’s been quiet.”

“Me either. Like Sam said, he’s an asshole but he’s not nuts,” you said.

“No, he’s not. But I do wonder sometimes...about my mom.”

“You don’t talk about her much,” you said. You started twirling short strands and he started to wake up more but didn’t move around. 

“I just...I don’t know if he broke her down after years and that’s why she is the way she is or if she genuinely doesn’t like us,” said Dean. “I don’t know whether to feel sorry for her or not.”

“Well...I think there’s a difference between her failing to protect you and her actively hurting you. Only you and Sam would know what really happened there.”

“Going off of that logic she’s not a good person,” said Dean. “Our grandpa wasn’t so it makes sense in a way. I don’t understand why they hated Sam and me so much though.”

“I don’t understand how anyone could ever not want you either.” He smiled and you bent down, kissing his cheek and then his lips, Dean humming when you moved back.

“Well, I got more than enough people that want me in my life now,” he said. He reached up and kissed you as you sunk back down in bed. He put his hand on the back of your neck and you grabbed his hip, Dean smirking beside you. He was starting to breath a little harder, pants filling the air, when you heard the door creak open.

“Guess who made...seriously,” said Tessa. You both turned and saw her with a tray and some food on top. 

“Your sister’s hot, Tessa,” chuckled Dean. You smacked his chest lightly as you both sat up, Tessa setting the tray down on the end of the bed.

“Might want to knock from now on before you get a view of something mentally scaring,” you said.

“I’ll remember that,” she said. She turned to go when Dean tsked her. “Guys. Have morning sex or whatever you were doing.”

“A little kissing never hurt anyone,” you said, picking up a cinnamon roll from the plate. “This looks yummy.”

“What’s the occasion, Tess?” asked Dean, grabbing one himself without a wince, his ribs looking a lot better.

“I figured I could make breakfast,” she shrugged.

“As a doctor, this isn’t the healthiest thing I’d consider for breakfast. As myself, excellent choice,” said Dean. She started to go and he chuckled. “Tessa. Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, Toast trotting in and hopping up on the bed. “No Toast. Your food’s downstairs.”

“While I got you girls both here, I was wondering what you guys would like to do for Christmas?” he asked. “It’s only a little over a week away.”

“Oh,” she said before she looked at you. Dean raised an eyebrow and you shrugged. 

“Well don’t everyone be too over excited,” he said with a chuckle. “Come on, anything in the world, what do you guys want to do?”

“Y/N not have to work,” mumbled Tessa.

“I know for a fact she won’t. I also know for a fact that our offices will be closed aside from the doctor that always works that week anyways. All of our lab work goes out that week so a certain someone is going to have her first week off in a few years,” said Dean.

“Wait I get the whole week off?” you asked.

“Yup. We all do and it doesn’t count against vacation. It’s something that’s always been done as a treat to the employees. So. Everybody’s got the week off, even Sammy. I say us and Toast all go do something really fun.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Well...would you guys be interested in going up north a bit to South Dakota? The past few years our friends all chip in to rent a big house and we celebrate up there. There’s snowboarding, skiing, a resort spa nearby. What do you guys think?”

“Can we afford that?” Tessa asked you.

“Yes we can and I think it sounds great,” you said. “You guys wanna go?”

“We can even get Toast a little jacket so he doesn’t get cold,” said Dean. “Jack will be there…”

“Shut up,” she said, pushing on his shoulder. “It sounds alright.”

“Just alright?” he teased. She rolled her eyes and got up, spinning back around and giving him a hug.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“For what?” he asked quietly.

“I was starting to hate Christmas was all,” she said. He chuckled and reached over to his nightstand, taking out his wallet. He took out a few hundred and handed it over. “Uh, what’s this for?”

“Why don’t you go get yourself some winter boots and snowpants. My treat.”

“Dean.”

“You don’t have any and you need it for the trip. Besides, Y/N’s going with you after we finish making out,” he said with a wink.

“You’re so gross,” she said. She hugged him again and he plopped back in bed, stretching out wide as she left.

“Dean. I know what you got her for Christmas,” you said. “You can’t give her money all the time.”

“Boots and pants and lunch for the both of you is gonna be a few hundred. Have a girls day. I have my own shopping to do for you anyways,” he said as you lay back.

“Dean I have a good job now. I can pay for those things.”

“Y/N. I make an assload. A day of you two going and having fun like sisters do is more than worth two hundred dollars to me,” he said. “This guy did it for me and Sam once. I’m actually just paying it back so really you can’t say no.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “But after we makeout.”

“Oh you’re not getting out of this bed without that happening,” he chuckled.

_______

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[fanmoose12]

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 9/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

“We aren’t looking for Krista Lenz. We’re searching for Historia.”

Despite the evidence quite literally staring right back at her, Hange could scarcely believe what she herself had just said. Krista Lenz, the missing girl she was searching for, wasn’t actually Krista Lenz? Apparently, the girl’s name was Historia, at least, according to the birth certificate. But it didn’t make any sense, and, what’s worse, it raised so many additional questions…

The main question, of course, was the reason for why the girl was living under a false name, and how did Kenny Ackerman acquire this piece of information? And for what purpose?

Luckily, she had the person, who, hopefully, could shed some light on this new mystery. Hange shoved the photo and the document in Ackerman’s hands, staring at him expectantly. “Do you know something about this?”

He didn’t answer right away, and that gave Hange a semblance of hope. Perhaps, it was just a misunderstanding? Perhaps, the photo and the birth certificate were put into one envelope by a trick of fate? And Krista Lenz was truly Krista Lenz? Hange certainly hoped so. It would save her so much trouble.

Ackerman’s eyes were narrowed as he studied the document. Hange watched him with bated breath.

Her world crumbled when he gave a little nod.

“I think I know where Kenny got it. Remember the robbery of that politician’s manor? Kenny stole this thing from the guy’s safe.”

Hange remembered that robbery, remembered that murdered man. But how could it possibly be connected to her recent case?

“How did you know where to find it? And why did your uncle need it in the first place? It makes no sense…”

“On the contrary,” Ackerman shook his head. “Now everything makes perfect sense. I couldn’t understand why Reiss asked us to rob that guy’s house, but now I’m starting to think that your missing girl…”

“Wait! Wait!” Hange silenced him with her palm on his mouth. She whirled around, starting to pace around the room. What he was saying just now? He didn’t mean it, right? At least, not in the way Hange comprehended it. It couldn’t be, she refused to believe it. But what if Ackerman was telling the truth? What if— Hange turned back to him, her eyes pleading for him to say it was an ill-timed joke. “What was that about Reiss? Did you mean Rod Reiss, the member of the parliament? That Reiss?”

“Naturally.”

Hange slowly sank into an armchair. Her head was spinning, her thoughts were going in circles. Rod Reiss, the model politician, the law abiding citizen was working directly with Ackermans. It seemed completely outlandish.

“Are you serious?” she asked quietly, to keep herself from shrieking. “Are you actually fucking serious?”

Ackerman shrugged, looking so nonchalant, a stark contrast to her frantic appearance. “Why would I lie about this?”

Why indeed… Logically, Hange knew there was no reason for him to lie about Reiss’ involvement, but, damn it, she just couldn’t wrap her head about this. Even the notion seemed utterly ridiculous, like it was taken from a dumb conspiracy theory.

“Just before I dropped your case…” Hange began, desperately trying to find a way to contradict Ackerman’s claim. “He wanted to help me solve it. He offered me money and people, anything to get you behind bars.”

And that meant that he wasn’t working with them, right? It meant that Reiss was actually a good guy, who wanted to fight the bad ones.

He’s a politician, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Erwin reminded her. You can’t get so high just from being good.

Despite her endless stubbornness, Hange couldn’t disagree with that. Those who held a lot of power didn’t acquire it from being honest and honorable.

Reiss claimed he wanted to catch Ackermans, but that desire could just be his attempt to cover up his traces.

Fuck.

Ackerman was right. Everything was starting to make sense.

“I guess Reiss wanted to get rid of us,” Ackerman confirmed her guess. Hange’s heart sank. “Maybe, that’s why Kenny didn’t return him this,” he showed her the birth certificate.

Hange felt another wave of nausea. If she correctly understood what Ackerman was implying…

“Are you saying that the missing girl…” she swallowed, reluctant to end that sentence. It would become more real then.

“Yes,” Ackerman nodded, his voice a little softer. Was it his attempt at giving her a bit of comfort? Did he simply pity her? “I think that your Krista Lenz is actually Historia. And that her father is Rod Reiss.”

Even before he spoke, Hange knew that Ackerman had reached that conclusion. Reluctantly, she was almost ready to agree with him. But… her inner world was practically in shambles. Rod Reiss, the good-willed, kind looking man with a gentle smile, was working with the criminals. He had a secret daughter.

She really couldn’t trust anyone, huh? She should have learnt this simple truth by now. Levi Ackerman did a great job of teaching that lesson to her, after all.

Hange dropped head into her hands, letting out a deep, bone-weary sigh. Couldn’t she have at least one simple, easy case? One that wouldn’t make her revalue all of her relationships and lose her faith in the humanity?

A case like that would have been real nice.

But instead she had a case that grew more complicated with each clue and a girl who was waiting to be rescued.

If nothing else, Hange couldn’t let Krista Lenz down. Or Historia, whichever name was the correct one.

“Hey listen…” a tentative touch to her shoulder and a gentle voice in her ear made Hange jump. She looked up and saw Ackerman, standing right next to her. He was… gods, he looked worried. Hange didn’t know if she should be amused or slighted. Just how pathetic she seemed just now, if Ackerman decided to comfort her? “I know it’s a lot to take in…”

Hange brushed his hand aside, abruptly jumping to her feet. Ackerman could take his pity and fuck himself with it. It was a lot to take in, but she was fine. She had taken it all in, she dealt with that mind-blowing revelation. Well, she didn’t really deal with it, but she took a pause in dealing with it. She’d finish the processing after this fucking day was over and she’d get drunk at some shitty bar. But now, she had work that needed her attention. And Hange was ready to begin.

“Give me that,” she snatched the birth certificate out of Ackerman’s hand, studying it intently. The graph with the father’s name wasn’t filled, but the mother’s name was there. Alma. There was no last name, but still, it was a start. Certainly not very promising, but Hange did more with less.

Alas, there was nothing interesting about the document except the name of the child’s mother. The child was born here, in their city, twenty two years ago. Krista Lenz was exactly twenty-two years old. A small detail that simply couldn’t be overlooked.

Next, Hange turned her attention to the photo. The picture showed adult Krista, and it was shot from distance, only her profile visible. Could it mean that someone was spying on her? If Krista was Historia, and a daughter of Rod Reiss, it made sense that he was keeping tabs on her. However…

Hange’s eyes widened, the realization swiftly settling.

The photo and the document, it didn’t come from Reiss. Reiss asked Ackermans to steal it for him, meaning…

“Do you think Reiss has enemies?” she asked Ackerman. “Do you think that someone wanted to expose him?”

“Perhaps,” Ackerman tentatively replied. His eyebrows furrowed, as he continued, rubbing his chin. “The guy that we killed… he wasn’t supposed to be at home that night. Reiss said he wasn’t going to be at home.”

“But he was.” Hange uttered, confused.

“He was,” Ackerman agreed. “And I think Reiss knew about it.”

“You think he tried to set you up?”

“Possibly. Or it was a pure coincidence and the guy just decided to return from the party earlier. Or…” he spread his arms, his point more than clear.

Closing eyes, Hange rubbed her temples. Possibly, Ackerman said. Well, she was definitely getting into something she shouldn’t. Secret children, Ackermans, nasty politicians… It was well above her paygrade.

But she couldn’t just give up. And, fortunately, she knew a place where they could find more information. If the person spying on Krista wasn’t Reiss, then it was someone who was actively trying to expose him. Someone who had died before he could reach his goal.

Hange still remembered that brief conversation she had with the politician’s widow, remembered her mentioning something about a girl that worked for her late husband. Perhaps, that girl was the one who took that photo of Krista. And if she found Krista once, perhaps, she’d help them to find her again.

The plan of action was prepared, and that was enough to calm Hange’s mind. At least, for a short while.

“We’re going to visit the politician’s house,” she announced to Ackerman. “His widow might know something.”

“You want to go to the house of the guy we robbed and killed? Awesome.”

Hange hummed, letting her eyes linger on Ackerman’s bored face. There was a question that’s been bugging her for a long time now, ever since she learnt about his true identity. They weren’t in a hurry yet, so she decided to take another moment to satisfy her curiosity. “That guy… were you the one who killed him?”

Ackerman stared back at her, his eyes surprisingly honest. “Would it make you feel better if I tell you that my uncle did it?”

Would it make her feel better to know that he was just a thief, and not a murderer? Maybe. Or, maybe not. Hange wasn’t sure what feeling this knowledge would provoke. These days, she wasn’t sure what to feel at all. The only feeling she was certain of was the exhaustion.

“Back at the museum…” perhaps, bringing this up was unreasonable. Perhaps, completely unnecessary. But she had been thinking about it, a lot. She had already formulated an explanation. Now she wanted to hear Ackerman’s reasoning, and see if the two versions were compatible in any way. “I know you weren’t the one who shot me, your uncle is much taller. When he raised that gun, he was aiming at my head, I could see it clearly,” she laughed, the sound too broken to be genuine. “I thought I was already done for, so why…”

“Why what, four-eyes?” Ackerman snapped. “Why did I stop him? Do you actually not know?”

Ackerman was staring right at her, his impassive mask slipping to reveal his anger and… frustration? Hange couldn’t clearly interpret the look in his eyes, not when she was so confused herself. She swallowed heavily, her heart pounding as she struggled to look away. Ackerman’s gaze… was burning.

“I wouldn’t have let Kenny kill you. I couldn’t bear the thought,” he said, his voice raw. He took a step towards her, and, subconsciously, Hange took a step away from him, her back now pressed against the wall. Despite their height difference, Levi seemed to loom over her, his eyes brimming with feeling. The feeling of… what? Hange didn’t know if she wished to know the answer. “Do you actually not understand why I did it?”

Ackerman was wrong. She did understand. She had him figured out, all thanks to dark, long and sleepless nights.

“You still needed me, right? That was your reason? I was still useful to you, that’s why—”

“Useful?”

Hange flinched at his tone. There was no protest there, no anger. His voice was thick with pain. Her eyes widened at the realization.

“What did I use you for, Hange?” he grabbed the lapels of her coat, roughly pulling her close to him. His breath was hot on her skin, and his fists were clenched so tightly she could almost hear the sound of the coat’s fabric ripping. “What did I ever use you for? Did I steal something from you? Did I get some piece of information out of you? You gave me the keys to your damn office, I held your shitty notebook in my hands, and did I use it?”

In the face of his outrage, Hange felt numb. She didn’t try to push him away, felt too weak to escape from him. She could only stare helplessly at him, feeling small and insignificant. Feeling like she had missed something vital, a central piece of the puzzle.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I didn’t check, perhaps you did take something—”

He breathed a curse into her face, his eyes a liquid fire. Just as suddenly as he had grabbed her, Levi let her go.

His back was now facing her, as he stared out of the window, his breathing loud and irregular.

“You can think whatever you want about me,” he said, deadly quiet. “You can think that I am a liar, a thief and a scumbag. But I didn’t use you Hange. It was never my intention. And if you really don’t know why I didn’t let you die, then you’re a shitty fucking detective. No wonder you couldn’t catch us.”

He stormed out of the room a second after, leaving Hange to stare incredulously after him.

His words, his touch, his eyes, it weighted down on her. They made it hard to breathe.

The places where Levi had touched her were burning, his words were still ringing in her ears and she couldn’t quite shake off the image of his eyes, his stare furious, but simultaneously hurt.

She was hoping to gain some clearance, hoping to deal with one of the many mysteries of her life. But now she was even more confused.

She took one deep breath after another, clutching at her chest. What the heck had just happened? What was Levi so worked about, what was he— it was another lie of his, another act, it had to be, Hange at last decided. What else it could be? Levi, no, Ackerman, he couldn’t really speak the truth just now? Because if that was the truth, then—

The loud bang of the closing door snapped Hange out of her reverie.

She was being naïve and foolish, again.

She was letting him get into her head, she was allowing him to fool her once more. But she wouldn’t let him do it, not after everything she had gone through.

She also couldn’t let him distract her from the case. Be her name Krista or Historia, but that girl needed to be saved. Hange had to save her.

And she wouldn’t be able to find her if she continued to stare numbly at the wall.

Hange shook her head, pushed the hair back from her face and fixed the lapels of her coat. She had no time for confusing feelings, she had to get back to work.

She was fully intent on doing that, until she remembered what had helped her get her focus back. The front door was thrown closed…

Hange shrieked, her hands flying to her head. Ackerman! He had escaped!

With a lightning speed, she rushed out of the room and out of the apartment. She took two stairs at the time, hurrying to get to the bottom of the stairwell. Her mind worked just as fast as her legs, as Hange tried to predict what direction Ackerman would take. Where would he go? Would she be able to find him? Should she even find him, after everything that just transpired?

By the time, she reached the exit of the apartment complex and tumbled out on a street, Hange was completely out of breath. She took a fleeting second, doubling over in an attempt to stop her lungs from burning out. Shit, she was getting too old for this kind of thing.

With her breathes still coming out way too rapidly, Hange slowly straightened out. Left or right? Which direction Ackerman would take? Maybe, if she was lucky, she’d catch him before he ran away.

But as Hange turned her gaze to her left, she was surprised to see that the escaped criminal… didn’t actually escape. He was standing right next to her, lazily smoking a cigarette.

“I thought you had a girl to save, detective?” he asked in a bored, indifferent voice.

Hange hated how good he was at concealing what was going on inside him. She was still shaking.

She also hated how attractive the damn bastard was, especially while smoking.

But Ackerman was right. There was a girl, and she needed to be saved.

Hange shrugged, adopting a more confident stance. She couldn’t let him know she was worried that he left. Or how handsome she thought he was. She had embarrassed herself plenty already.

So with a determined face, Hange lifted an arm, hailing a taxi.

There was no time for feelings. Not when there was work needed to be done.

***

The time they’ve spent in taxi was spent in silence.

Hange was looking out of the window, stubbornly refusing to even look in his direction. Levi himself was staring at his knees, lost to his own thoughts.

There was a lot he had to think about, the main focus, of course, was on Kenny and his involvement with Reiss and his new-found daughter.

Levi had kept a faint hope that when they got to their apartment, Kenny would be there, laying on a coach with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer in another. Until the very end, he hoped that this whole ordeal with kidnapping and letters from Kenny the Reaper was a result of a weird coincidence.

Unfortunately, his hope was crushed without mercy.

Kenny wasn’t at home, and what’s more, the state of their apartment frightened Levi. Kenny wasn’t as obsessed with cleanliness as him, but he had never created such messes either. At least, it had never happened during all these years they’ve lived together. Was the mess caused by the fact that Levi had left? Or was Kenny truly going crazy?

If he decided to kidnap a girl, Reiss’ daughter, and then run off to god knows where, then he was definitely not quite right in his head.

But that wasn’t the only thing occupying Levi’s mind. Ashamed as he was to admit it, Kenny wasn’t in his thoughts nearly as often as was Hange.

Their fight back at his apartment was, for the lack of better word, a complete disaster. He made a mistake, he shouldn’t have lost his cool, he shouldn’t have admitted the things Hange didn’t have to know.

For fuck’s sake, he practically admitted that he was smitten with her. Worse yet, he almost admitted just how far he was willing to go not to hurt her. It was dangerous and it was foolish. Luckily, Hange wasn’t too interested in listening to what he had to say.

And still, the things that she had said hurt him. More than Levi was ready to admit.

She really lost all trust in him, didn’t she? Perhaps, this outcome was not at all surprising, but… painful nevertheless.

Levi stole a glance at Hange - she wasn’t looking back at him. So he allowed himself to admire her profile. Her bright, brown eyes, that hawkish nose, those enticing lips… He sighed, tearing his gaze away.

Coming here was certainly a mistake, he could have hid a little better, could have tried to run from Hange for the second time. He could have done so much more, could have at least attempted to not get caught in all of this.

Too late for any regrets now, he thought bitterly. Besides, it wasn’t like he had come here for Hange, right? He had to get Kenny out of whatever shit he had involved himself into this time.

Kenny, he was there for Kenny. For him and him only.

He had to repeat this to himself a couple of times more, because with Hange sitting so close to him, with their thighs slightly touching in the backseat of the taxi, it was hard to remember his main and initial goal. With Hange so close, it was getting hard to focus at all.

He had to think of something else.

Levi looked out of the window, watched the streets they passed by. They were getting close. Close to the house of the man he murdered.

Levi gulped. Perhaps, the idea to focus on something else wasn’t as sound as it seemed at first.

Another train of thought then. He turned to look at Hange again.

He couldn’t think about her, but there was the matter of their case. He could try and pay attention to it.

“You mentioned that the girl is missing for almost a week. Why are you the only one who’s working on finding her then? Aren’t these types of cases supposed to be…” he waved his hand around, gesturing uncertainly. “Especially time-sensitive?”

Hange sighed, showing just how stressed she truly was. “They usually are time-sensitive. But… thing is… no one actually cares if I solve this case or not.”

“Do you mean—”

“Yes. Krista, or, well,” she winced, “Historia, doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t seem to have any friends either. We received the tip about her disappearance from a fucking anonymous call. No one even noticed that she is gone. I talked with the students at her college, and some seemed sympathetic, some even mildly worried about her well-being, but no one actually cared about her. No one truly knew her too, at least, no one knew her well enough. As I asked about Krista, I got the same answer. She was kind, always ready to help. She was attentive and diligent during classes. And that world ‘was’,” Hange shook her head, her palms clenching into fists. “It seemed like everyone had already accepted that she was gone for good.”

Hange sounded so sad, so frustrated, Levi desperately wished to give her what little comfort that he could. He understood now, why she was so determined to find that missing girl and bring her home.

It was good to know that people like Hange existed. People, who would do their best to try and help someone else.

Levi could be that girl, he realized. If he went missing and Kenny wasn’t there to find him, no one would care to help him. If something like that ever happened to him, he could only hope to come across a person, who would be as selfless and kind as Hange.

If there were more people like her, perhaps, his life wouldn’t be so miserable. Perhaps, he’d be a different person.

But pondering on it was pointless now. He was who was he was. For the better or worse, Hange was who she was too.

“So no one is pushing you to hurry?” Levi glanced at her beneath his fridge. “Then what was that shit about? When you ran out of my apartment, red in face and panting like a dog?”

“Oi,” Hange slapped his knee. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” Levi raised his eyebrow, remembering their first conversation. “Aren’t we moving a little too fast?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, turning her face away. Just before she did, Levi saw the red on her cheeks.

Hange blushed. Hange, the hot-shot detective and a huge pain in the ass, had actually blushed after his stupid joke.

Well… now Levi had something to be proud of.

“I just thought—” she huffed, moving hair from her face. “It doesn’t matter what I thought, but… thanks for not running away. I… appreciate it. Looking for you would be a large inconvenience,” she gave him a side-glance, her lips twitching. “Thanks for not creating even more problems for me, I guess.”

And who said that Hange wasn’t a paragon of politeness? Levi almost felt good about himself. He almost thought that things between them were… not as disastrous as they actually were.

“We are almost there,” Hange announced, nervously tapping fingers against her thigh.

The bubble busted. There was no time to fool around. There was no time for playful banter and witty back and forth. There was no time to… appreciate that bright sparkle in Hange’s eyes.

Levi nodded, acknowledging her words, but remained speechless. What was there to say? He was going to the house that belonged to a man his uncle had killed right in front of his own eyes. And he was going there willingly. God, his life was just a string of one fucked up shitty event after another.

Hopefully, this visit would help him learn more about Kenny’s new job and, maybe, even find Kenny himself.

Hope… that’s all he had these days.

The taxi took a turn and drove up to the tall, black gates. Levi remembered climbing over it during that awful night two months ago.

This time, he wasn’t climbing over it.

Hange got out of the taxi, just as they approached the front gates. She spoke through the intercom, requesting entrance. After a long moment, the gates slowly opened and the taxi drove inside, bringing them to the large doors.

Front doors. Last time Levi was getting inside through the back door. Well, another improvement. Another sign that this visit, hopefully, wouldn’t end so horribly.

Hange paid the taxi driver and told him not to wait for them. Together they exited the car.

As they walked to the door, she leaned in to him and whispered, “It’d be best if you don’t tell the grieving widow that your uncle killer her husband.”

“I’m not an idiot, four-eyes.”

Hange chuckled and lifted her arms, palms-up. “I’m just saying. I don’t think she’s eager to meet us as it is.”

When the front door had finally opened, they were met by a butler. A fucking butler, dressed in a suit and tie and with glasses on his face. Levi stared at him, incredulously.

Killing people in general went against Levi’s principles, and killing the owner of this house in particular was obviously wrong, but stealing from him? Perhaps, he and Kenny should have also taken a few paintings.

“Good day,” Hange smiled – to Levi the expression seemed a little forced. “I’m detective Zoe and I wanted to—”

“I know,” the butler bowed his head, gesturing for them to follow him. “The Lady asked me to bring you to her office.”

The Lady? It took all of Levi’s willpower not to scoff. Rich people were ridiculous. That’s why he preferred to steal from them. Served those fuckers right.

The butler led them through a big, brightly lit hall, up the majestic stairwell, through a row of ugly paintings, and finally they stood before a brown oak door.

“The Lady is inside,” the butler said, taking a step back. “I’ll bring tea in just a few minutes. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

Hange waved her hand, obviously not interested in his false politeness. She threw the door open, walking inside without waiting for the invitation. So that was detective Hange at work? Levi watched her, hiding his amused expression.

“Sorry that we didn’t give you a heads-up,” she spoke to the woman that was sitting behind a long, mahogany desk. Suddenly Levi realized it was the same room, where Kenny had killed a man. Suddenly he realized that he was staring at the face of a woman, who had lost a husband because of him and Kenny. Avoiding the widow’s gaze, he did his best to hide behind Hange. “But there’s something we wanted to discuss.”

“Did you find my husband’s killer?”

No, but I'm his nephew and I was there when your husband had died, Levi almost blurted out. But Hange had warned him. So he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“No,” Hange walked further inside, plopping down on a chair. Much more humbly, Levi did the same. “But we think your husband is related to our other case. So we were wondering if we can ask you a few questions?”

“Who are we?” the widow arched her perfectly thin eyebrow. “Last time we spoke, I didn’t remember you having an assistant.”

Hange’s smile became strained. “That’s, um, Levi,” she gestured at him. “My, well, he’s sort of my partner.”

“A partner, huh?”

“He helps me with the case,” Hange answered vaguely. “Now about our questions…”

The widow arrogantly waved her hand, allowing Hange to continue. “Just be quick about this. After my husband’s death, I have a lot of work on my hands.”

And all of it because of him and Kenny. Great. Levi sat lower in his seat.

“I remember you mentioning…” Hange took out her notebook, Levi cringed at the sight of it. As he watched her shift through it, he briefly wondered if that note he had left for her was still there. Did she tear it out, rip into pieces and then burn the rest? Or did she… leave it there, so she could stare at it whenever she felt especially angry? Levi wasn’t sure which option was more preferable and which one would make him feel more sad. Meanwhile, Hange continued, “A girl who visited your husband. Do you remember what she looked like? Can you describe her to us?”

The widow scrunched her nose, clearly displeased. She reached to the desk’s drawer, taking out a pack of cigarettes. She opened it, putting a cigarette in between her lips. “If you don’t mind,” she mumbled, flicking up a lighter. The widow took one long drag, letting the smoke curl up towards the ceiling. She lazily traced its movement, then, when the smoke had dissipated into nothing, she spoke, “I saw her only once, she was leaving our house late in the evening. It was dark and I didn’t get a good look on her face, but I remember that she was tall,” she squinted, looking at Hange. “Slightly taller than you. Had brown hair, gathered in a low ponytail. Her clothes were baggy, and, overall, she looked just like…”

“Like what?” Levi snappily required. “Like a criminal?”

“Well, yes,” the widow agreed, throwing the ash off her cigarette. “I think she was doing some shady work for my husband.”

“Do you by any chance have a way to contact her?” Hange asked. “A phone number or a home address…”

“And why do you need it?” the widow looked at them skeptically.

“Classified information,” Hange smoothly replied. “But it’s for the greater good, believe me.”

The widow huffed, obviously not buying it. But she put the cigarette down and reached for the drawer again.

“I don’t know if that will be of any help, but,” she rummaged through the drawer, taking out a yellow envelope. “I found this when I was looking through my husband’s things. He must have destroyed the letter that was inside it, but there is the sender’s address on the back, so…”

“Thank you for your time,” Hange spoke sincerely, snatching the envelope from the widow’s hands. “You really helped us. A lot. You might have even saved a young girl’s life.”

“Whatever,” the widow rolled her eyes. “Just get out of here already. I have the work I need to do.”

“Thank you,” Hange repeated, rising to her feet. “Have a nice day.��

“And…” the widow hesitated. “Good luck with your case. I hope you do better this time.”

The smile on Hange’s face faltered, but didn’t disappear. “I’ll do my best,” she promised, before walking out of the room.

Throwing a quick last glance at the widow, Levi dutifully followed.

***

The address on the envelope led them to the worst part of their city. To the streets that were filled with garbage, where the walls had paint falling off and most windows stood completely smashed.

Hange in her fancy light brown coat looked starkly out of place. Perhaps, Ackerman was right about her having too much privilege. Right now, the contrast between her and the more unfortunate ones were sharp as ever. Although, Ackerman’s attire wasn’t that humble either.

Hange stepped a little closer to him, in a futile attempt to hide from the unfriendly gazes that followed after her ever since they stepped into this part of the city.

“I’m surprised you’ve agreed to come here,” she spoke to him in a quiet voice, “Since I know how much of a clean freak you are.”

The look Ackerman gave her could probably freeze someone to death. “I wasn’t always living in a nice and neat apartment, four-eyes. People like me usually come from the places like that.”

Hange’s eyes widened at the realization. She glanced at the man beside her, tilted her head to study him more intently. It was hard to imagine sharp-dressed and clean-shaved Ackerman, or younger Levi living in a place like that, walking through the dirty streets with broken windows. He came a long way, it seemed. Hange was amazed at his perseverance.

“I think this is the right house,” she pointed at the grey four-story building. Hange took out the envelope, checked the address again. “Yes, this is it.”

Wordlessly, Ackerman started walking in that direction. Hange caught him just before he pushed the front door open.

“Shouldn’t we, like, knock?” she asked, doing a poor job at hiding her nervousness.

Ackerman just rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot,” he scolded, adding a quiet ‘tch’. “There are several apartments here. You’re not trespassing on someone’s private property yet.”

“Oh, alright,” Hange mumbled, letting him open the door and following him inside.

The inside of the building… was dirty. There were bags of trash lying around, shards of broken glass and half-shattered empty bottles. The house wasn’t silent too, from somewhere deep inside the building a child’s wailing was heard. It was accompanied by the sounds of a fighting. Or, maybe, extremely passionate love-making. Hange desperately hoped it was the latter.

“We need to go to the basement,” she said to Ackerman, trying her best to sound nonchalant and confident.

“Basement?” he repeated incredulously. “Is the address actually pointing to a basement? Are we looking for a vampire?”

“I don’t know who we’re looking for. But here,” she thrusted the envelope to him. “You can check it for yourself.”

He pushed her hand away. “I’ll trust you on that one.”

They made their way down the stairs in silence. Not wanting to see something that wasn’t meant for the police officer’s eyes, Hange kept her gaze focused on Ackerman’s face. Unsurprisingly, his expression was indifferent. But his breaths were coming out more raged than usual and he was walking with his head bowed low.

Compared to his regular level of emotionlessness, Ackerman seemed almost overly distressed.

Was this place affecting him so much? He had hinted at his not so happy childhood before. Were bad memories the reason for his emotional state right now?

Hange placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Ackerman, listen…”

Roughly, he slapped her hand away. “I’m fine, four-eyes. Focus on the task at hand.”

She stared at him, affronted. Here she was trying to— what was she trying to do? To comfort him? Because she was worried about him? Hange conceded. Perhaps, Ackerman had every right to scold her. She was losing her focus. She couldn’t allow herself that.

As they climbed to the end of the stairs, Hange looked around, searching for an apartment 009. It stood just at the end of the hallway, and without hesitation she marched right there.

She knocked, quite forcefully. And received no answer. She huffed, ignoring Ackerman’s amused gaze, and knocked again. Again, there was no answer.

Hange put her ear closer to the door, listening to any signs of life inside. There was… nothing.

“I think no one is at home,” she announced mournfully to Ackerman. “Perhaps, we can come back later…”

“Or we can stop wasting precious time,” he rolled his eyes. “Move your ass, four-eyes, I’ll get us inside.”

Ackerman went down on his knees before the door, searching for something in the pocket of his jacket.

It took Hange a long moment to realize what he was about to do. As soon as that realization kicked in, however, she rushed to pull Ackerman away from that door.

“What are you doing?” she cried out. “Ackerman, it’s illegal!”

He gave her a pointed look. “I’m a criminal, remember?”

“I’m not! I can’t let you break inside someone’s house, I’m a police officer!”

“And can you let a young girl suffer? My uncle is an impatient man, if she pissed him off…”

“Don’t joke about it!” Hange scolded. Fuck, she didn’t know what to do. On one hand, she couldn’t let Ackerman just break into someone’s house. On the other, she couldn’t really waste any more time.

“You can look the other way, four-eyes,” Ackerman proposed, his voice an octave softer. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Damn it, Hange couldn’t believe what she was about to do. Ackerman and his damn influence, if Erwin ever finds out…

She sighed, surrendering, and turned away from that door. “Do your thing already,” she urged. “I’ll be… on a look-out. Or whatever you people say.”

“You people?” he repeated teasingly. “What kind of people?”

Hange could practically hear the laughter in his voice. Well, at least, someone was enjoying himself.

“Criminals,” she gritted.

“Just don’t forget that it’s a nasty criminal,” he said, “That helps you solve this case.”

Gods, what a fucker. But he was right. He was helping her. For his own reasons, sure, but even so, Hange was working with him for merely a day, and already she accomplished so much. Perhaps, after all of that mess was over, she could even thank him.

If he wouldn’t give her another reason to hate him.

Ackerman dealt with the door just in mere seconds. Hange didn’t know that it was possible to break the locks so swiftly. He surely was talented.

“Wow, you really are good at it,” she marveled under her breath.

“Figures why you couldn’t catch us, eh?”

So he was not only a fucker, but a cocky one as well. Hange shouldn’t have found that trait of his attractive. He lied to her, for god’s sake. But she had to admit – he looked damn good while doing it.

Ackerman opened the door and let Hange go in first. She did, a bit precautiously.

The first thing she noticed was, of course, the absence of the light. Outside the afternoon sun was shining brightly, painting everything in warm orange colors, but here, in the basement, it was dark as ever. Distinctively, Hange could hear the sound of the pipes leaking, the steady drop, drop, drop that set her just a little further up on edge.

She blindly searched for the switch on the wall. As soon as she had found it, a lone lightbulb filled the room with faint light.

Apart from that, the interior of the apartment wasn’t so different from the interior of the whole building. It was in similar bad shape, with torn wallpapers and leaking ceilings. But, surprisingly, the apartment also seemed strangely empty, like whoever was living there didn’t actually consider it their home.

As Hange looked around, she found nothing personal there, no photographs or postcards or any other kind of trinkets people usually treasured.

There were some clothes thrown here and there, but that was about it. The rest of the apartment was disappointingly empty.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to find something here,” Ackerman said, as he walked inside beside her.

Truthfully, Hange was of the same opinion. But they came here. They broke inside. She wouldn’t leave until she finds at least something remotely useful.

“Let’s look around,” she said, deciding to start with the kitchen.

Unfortunately, there was nothing useful in the kitchen. The only thing Hange found was the insane amount of instant noodles and cheap beer.

No clues were found inside the living room as well. She looked under the dusty old couch and the rug, behind the shattered TV-screen and the wardrobe. But she found nothing.

Met with the absence of the clues and Ackerman’s increasing impatience, Hange was starting to get desperate.

“We’ll find something,” she murmured, to assure both Ackerman and herself.

He simply clicked his tongue. “I searched the bedroom already. I didn’t find anything that might be of some interest.”

“I’ll go and have another look,” Hange stubbornly pushed past him. “Perhaps, you missed something.”

“Or, perhaps,” he countered, his voice laced with venom. “This lead is a dead-end. And we’re just wasting our time.”

“Need I to remind you that this is the only lead we have? Because you’re unable to find your own uncle.”

Hange knew she had said the wrong thing as soon as the words had left her mouth. She didn’t mean it, not really. But she was frustrated. She was tired and lost, and Ackerman’s proximity and their shared history were making her even more stressed than she already was.

But all of it didn’t mean that Ackerman deserved her bitterness. Not in this moment, at least. Hange knew she was in the wrong, she wanted to take her words back, but then— then Ackerman decided to retaliate.

“And need I to remind you that the only reason I’m here is because you can’t solve this shitty case all by yourself. So stop accusing me of being useless when I’m helping you out of the kindness of my heart.”

“Out of the kindness of your heart?” Hange repeated, completely scandalized. She couldn’t believe that she was meaning to apologize to that shithead just moments ago. And he had the audacity— Gods, he infuriated her to no end. “You’re a fucking asshole, Ackerman. When you were lying to me like a total scumbag, were you doing it out of the kindness of your fucking heart as well?”

Ackerman was getting riled up to, his face became contorted with faint lines of anger. His hands clenched into fists, he took a step forward, breathing heavily. “Are you still going on about that thing, really? Yes, I lied to you, but I’m sure I’m not the only person in this life who did it. So can you just let it go already?”

“Let it go?” Hange felt like she was boiling, there was so much fury inside of her that it seemed like it was pouring out of her. She wanted to smash or break something, preferably Ackerman’s stupidly handsome face. “Are you seriously asking if I can let it go? Do you really not understand how much—” she faltered, choking on the hurricane of her emotions. “I trusted you, Levi, I believed you were a good man. For god’s sake, I was starting to develop f—”

Hange abruptly stopped herself. She was angry, true, she was overwhelmed as well. But she was not so lost as to reveal to him just what he truly made her feel. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how good his lies were and how much they’ve hurt her.

After taking a deep breath, she risked a glance at Ackerman. He was staring right at her, wide-eyed and shocked and… was that sadness in his eyes?

Before Hange could decipher his expression, it changed again, became more cautious.

She blinked, and Ackerman was already moving, rapidly, in her direction. All out of sudden, he was standing right beside her, close enough for Hange to hear just how loudly his heart was beating.

Confused, she wanted to push him away, she meant to do it, but before she could react, Ackerman had her encircled in his arms. He pulled her to the side, and just as Hange was trying to get away, they swayed and tumbled. In a mess of limbs, both of them fell onto the ground.

No more than a second later, Hange heard a loud, sudden noise.

A noise she knew so well. A gunshot.

Confused and with her ears ringing, Hange tried to make sense of her surroundings. There was a gunshot, and she fell but she wasn’t on a ground. Ackerman was on the ground, and she was lying right on top of him. Hange stared at him, wide-eyed and shaken.

Their sudden close proximity made her thoughts move even slower.

Still in Ackerman’s embrace, she turned her head in the direction, where that gunshot had come from. A girl stood there, her gun raised and aimed at them.

How long had she been standing there? How in the world Hange hadn’t seen her enter?

The reason for her lack of caution was still beside her, holding her tightly to his chest.

It felt good to be so close to him, Hange felt so warm and safe—

“Get the fuck off me,” feeling her face burn, she pushed Ackerman away, and jumped up to her feet.

“That’s the thanks I get for saving your life,” he grumbled, standing up as well and dusting off his jacket. “And I did it for the second time, four-eyes.”

“Shut up,” Hange gritted, returning her attention to the girl who almost shot them both. She was tall and brown-haired. Could it be their mysterious lead?

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt… whatever that was,” for a second the girl’s lips curled in a wicked smirk, but then she gripped the gun in her hands tighter, her finger going to the trigger. “But who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?”

Still slightly shaking from the whole ordeal, Hange’s fingers trembled as she took out her police badge, showing it to the girl. “I’m detective Hange Zoe, and I came to ask you some questions.”

The hand that held the gun didn’t lower. “Regarding?” the girl asked.

“Regarding Krista Lenz’s disappearance.”

The girl relaxed. The gun was tucked safely inside her leather jacket. “So the police have finally taken notice of that case? Took you long enough.”

“I’m hoping to rectify that mistake. And I hope I’ll be able to bring Krista home. What is your name?” Hange smiled and tentatively offered her hand for the girl to shake.

“Ymir,” just as cautiously, she shook Hange’s hand. “And Krista isn’t her real name, you know?”

“She is Historia, right?” the smile on Hange’s face widened, as she saw Ymir’s genuine surprise. “We found that bit of information already.”

“Seems like you’re a real deal then,” Ymir concluded with a nod. “I’ll share what I know with you. But,” she raised a finger. “I have a condition – you’ll let me join the investigation.”

Their crew was rapidly growing, and two-thirds were presented by criminals, Hange thought grimly. Well, she was ready to do anything to bring Historia home. It seemed like she would have to stick to her own promise.

Just when Hange was ready to accept Ymir and her proposition, Ackerman took a step forwards. His eyes were narrowed to slits as he glared at their new companion.

“And what guarantee we have that we can trust you?”

“You have no guarantee,” Ymir replied, staring down at him. “But as long as our goals align and as long as you promise not to hurt Historia, I promise not to betray you.”

Ah, so their crew was rapidly growing and they couldn’t really trust each other. A recipe for a horrible disaster, but… Hange had no other options.

She clasped Ymir’s shoulder, giving her the most convincing of her smiles. “Welcome aboard then. What have you managed to find out?”

Ymir grinned and turned around, gesturing for them to follow. “Probably much more than you did. Come with me, I’ll show it to you.”

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Match Made in Heaven - Harry Potter

Title: Match Made in Heaven Pairing: Harry Potter x Granger!Reader Summary: Harry spends most of his days living amongst muggles to avoid the fame that follows him in the wizard world. Concealing his identity isn’t a problem until he falls in love with a muggle that seems all too familiar. A/N: For the anon that wanted Harry falling in love with a granger!reader without knowing she’s Hermione’s sister. This is noncanon compliant, as Hermione never obliviates her family. Feedback is always welcome and requests are open!

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

Harry spends far more time in muggle London than he ever imagined he would. He rents a decent sized flat in a muggle apartment building, shops in muggle clothing and food stores, and he even finds himself taking the tube or bus over apperating or the Floo Network. Harry loves magic and he loves being a wizard, but after spending the first 18 years of his life in the wizard world limelight, he craves a sense of normalcy.

In the muggle world he isn’t Harry Potter the boy who lived. He’s Harry Potter, the guy I sat next to on the tube. Or Harry Potter, my quiet neighbor who always says hello. In the muggle world he’s just Harry Potter, and he really likes that. He likes being able to go to a restaurant for a meal without being asked for his autograph, and he can buy his boxer briefs without being stopped for a picture.

Of course, he’s still fully involved in the Wizarding World. He pops into Diagon Alley for all of his magical shopping from time to time, he has a drink at the Leaky Cauldron with the boys from school every Saturday, he has a job at the ministry that he loves and every Sunday he conceals a random field in the country side so he can spend hours chasing around a golden snitch on his firebolt. Harry has even popped into Hogwarts for guest lectures or just to see Hagrid.  And of course, he’s at the Burrow frequently, whether it’s for a major holiday, birthday or just for dinner on a random weekday.

Harry doesn’t hate the wizarding world he just prefers the anonymity living in the muggle world gives him. So, it really only makes sense that he falls in love with a muggle girl too.

“If you ask me there’s far too many options for something as simple as milk. Milk is milk, is it not?”

Harry turns to look at the young woman standing next to him at the grocery store, and his jaw practically drops when she does the same. This woman is by far, the most beautiful woman Harry has ever seen. There’s something familiar about her, and yet he can’t quite figure out what it is. She gives him a warm smile, and Harry does his best to return it.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “I sometimes grab a different brand hoping to notice some kind of difference and there never is.”

She laughs, turning to look back at the milk. “Well what’s your go to then? I’ll try yours if you try mine?”

Harry bites his lip. This is by far the strangest interaction he’s ever had with a muggle, but he finds is quite enjoyable. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Harry and the woman both reach into the cooler case, and their hands brush when they reach for the same bottle of milk. Harry pulls his hand away quickly, a slight blush painting his cheeks. The woman turns to look at him, the warm smile still on her face.

“Clearly you have great taste in dairy products,” she says playfully, and Harry can’t believe that a woman this beautiful is flirting with him. She grabs the bottle they both had gone for and hands it to Harry.

“You know what they say, great minds think alike,” he jokes, nodding in appreciation as he grabs the milk. He places it in his hand basket and watches as she grabs her own bottle. “I’m Harry,” he introduces.

The young woman turns to face him as she places the milk in her own basket. “I’m Y/N, it’s wonderful to meet you Harry.”

Y/N stretches her hand out and Harry grabs it, trying to ignore the spark of electricity that runs up his arm at the contact. As their handshake ends the woman gives him a wave, but Harry grabs her arm lightly as she turns to leave. “Wait, Y/N. Would you like to get dinner with me? Tomorrow night.”

Harry is just as surprised by his boldness as Y/N is. He’s usually not one to be so outgoing, but he’s become fascinated with this woman in the few short minutes they’ve known each other, and he has to see her again.

“I would love that,” she responds, the warm smile that Harry is already fond of returning.

“Brilliant,” he says, smiling back at Y/N. “There’s this diner that I love that’s not far from here. It’s called Barney’s, maybe you’ve heard of it?.”

Y/N chuckles. “I know Barney’s. I go there like, once a week.” She pauses. “Same favorite milk brand and same favorite restaurant? I think maybe we’re a match made in Heaven, Harry.”

Harry blushes and scratches at the back of his neck. “Perhaps so. I’ll meet you there tomorrow? Say 7:30?”

“I’ll see you then.”

-

“You’re going on a date?” Ron asks Harry in surprise the next day at work.

Ron and Hermione are always trying to convince Harry to move to Diagon Alley above Flourish and Blotts so they can be neighbors. They’re always telling him how quiet it is, how their owl doesn’t seem out of place to their neighbors and how nice it is to be surrounded by people that are like them. One of their efforts to convince him to move is to invite him over for dinner at least once a week. Ron has just invited Harry over, and he respectfully declined.

Harry rolls his eyes at Ron. “Why is that such a surprise.”

“No offense mate, but you don’t exactly have the best track record with women,” Ron points out with a chuckle.

Harry narrows his eyes at Ron. “Either way,” he says, not wanting to admit Ron is right, “I’ve got a date tonight so I’m going to have to skip out on dinner.”

“Fair enough, mate. So, who’s the lucky lady? A bird we went to school with?” Ron asks, knowing Hermione will want all of the details.

Harry shrugs. “Just a muggle I met last night at the grocery store.”

Ron gives Harry a look of surprise. “Last night? You met a girl and asked her out in the same night? That’s definitely a first for you.”

“Oh, shove it. You act like you’re the king of romance or something. How many years did it take you to grow a pair and ask Hermione out?” Harry teases, dodging the rolled-up ball of parchment Ron tosses at him. “We bonded over the fact that we like the same type of milk.”

“Muggles are weird man,” Ron says with a laugh, turning back to the pile of work on his desk.

-

“So, what do you do for work?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her drink.

Harry takes a sip of his own drink to give himself time to think of an answer. This is the only downside of living amongst muggles: trying to figure out how to explain the magical parts of his life. He somehow managed to stutter through a decent explanation as to why he keeps an owl as a pet, but he always gets nervous when it comes to his career.

“I work in law enforcement,” he responds a moment later. “I’m a detective of sorts.”

Y/N raises her eyebrows. “Wow, that’s quite impressive. Being a detective at such a young age. I bet you’re a natural.”

Harry blushes, and takes a bite of his food to hide it. He’s almost glad that Y/N can’t know the truth about the more magical bits of his life. Being an Auror is less impressive when you know that Harry didn’t even graduate from school and was able to walk onto his job because someone decided that Harry would be his downfall when he was only an infant. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

“I’m working part time at the public library while I finish up medical school,” Y/N explains with a smile.

Harry scoffs playfully. “You’re sitting over there knowing you’re in medical school and calling my career impressive? You are far too humble, Y/N.” Harry feels a sense of pride when Y/N blushes and looks away. “So why medical school?”

Y/N shrugs, trying to brush off Harry’s kind words. “Both of my parents are dentists, and I wanted to make them proud. I spent a lot of time with them growing up, hanging out in the office. I watched them help person after person and it was inspiring. Made me realize I want to do the same thing.”

Harry absolutely melts at Y/N’s words. Harry has lived his whole life trying to make his parents proud. They gave their lives to help keep the wizarding world safe and all Harry wants to do is the same.

He clears his throat. “Seems we have that in common as well.”

“Your parents are dentists?” she asks with a laugh.

Harry laughs as well, shaking his head slightly. “My parents worked in a law enforcement type field. They were killed, when I was young because of it. They dedicated their lives to keeping me, and countless others safe. And all I’ve wanted to do since I was a little kid was make them proud and do the same.”

Y/N gives Harry a sad smile as she reaches out to touch the hand he has resting on the table. Harry allows her to intertwine their fingers, smiling when she squeezes them lightly. “That’s amazing, Harry,” she says softly. “You seem like an amazing person, and I’m sure they’re proud of you.”

That night when Harry gets home he pens out a quick letter to Ron, the feeling of Y/N’s lips on his as they kissed goodnight still fresh in his mind.

I think I’m in love.

-

“Harry? What are you doing here?” Y/N whispers, unable to keep herself from giggling.

It’s been a few days since his date with Y/N and Harry hasn’t been able to get her out of his head. He recounted the date several different times to both Ron and Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley had even asked him about it when he went to the Burrow for dinner. Each time he thought back to what happened he found himself getting happier and even though he and Y/N were going to see each other that night, Harry needed to see her again. So, on his lunch break he picked up some coffee and headed to the London Public Library.

Harry holds up the cups of coffee, a smile spreading across his face. “Got time for some coffee?”

Y/N returns his smile and nods. She comes out from behind the desk she had been working at and gestures for Harry to follow her. Y/N leads him out of the library and over to her favorite bench in the courtyard. It’s under a great big willow tree, and Y/N often spends hours out here, just enjoying the warm summer breeze, thinking about nothing.

“I didn’t think I’d see you until tonight,” Y/N says, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled around them.

Harry shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee to keep from getting flustered. “I wanted to see you again, and I couldn’t wait until tonight,” he admits honestly.

In lieu of responding, Y/N touches Harry’s cheek lightly and leans in to kiss him. Their lips move together softly, and when their kiss breaks both of them are blushing slightly. “I’ve been dying to see you again as well.”

Harry bites his lip before he leans in to kiss Y/N again briefly. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind,” he murmurs, pressing their lips together again.

There are only a few people in his life that Harry has ever immediately felt comfortable around, and not very many of them are female. Whenever he’s around a woman he has a romantic interest in, Harry tends to get all clammy, and he works himself up so much he doesn’t know what to say. But he’s never felt that same awkwardness with Y/N. Ever since they first locked eyes Harry felt a sense of familiarity with her, and he feels like he can say anything around her.

Y/N smiles against Harry’s lips, her brain fuzzy. She hasn’t stopped thinking about him since that night at the grocery store. She wasn’t one to usually strike up a conversation with a stranger, but when she saw Harry just standing there she felt this need to talk to him.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” she says with a quiet chuckle when their kiss breaks.  “I never thought we’d get this far.”  When Harry knits his eyebrows together in confusion, Y/N brings a hand up to cup his cheek. “When I saw you in the store that night I thought you were cute, and I had to say something to you. And then I just started waffling on about milk. I figured it would freak you out or something.”

Harry laughs, and grabs the hand Y/N had placed on his cheek so he can intertwine their fingers. “I’m not gonna lie, I did find it a bit odd. But in an endearing sort of way,” he adds, not wanting to make Y/N feel insecure. “You are by far the most interesting and beautiful person I’ve ever met before. And I’ve met some weird people, so I’d take that as a compliment.”

“You don’t really mean that,” Y/N responds playfully, lightly shoving Harry’s shoulder. “You’re just trying to get in my head, throw me off my game so you win at minigolf.”

Harry laughs and squeezes Y/N’s hand. “You’re on to me, love. You’re bloody on to me.”

-

“Do you think I should tell her?” Harry muses, looking up at Ron and Hermione. They’re eating lunch together in the cafeteria at the ministry, and Harry’s mind keeps wandering to Y/N.

“Tell who what?” Ron asks, his words muffled by the food in his mouth.

Hermione hits Ron’s arm, rolling her eyes playfully. “Harry’s obviously talking about Y/N, Ron. Considering she’s all he talks about these days.”

Harry blushes. “Anyway,” he drawls, not wanting to acknowledge that Hermione is right. “I’ve been thinking about telling her about me. Ya know, that I’m a wizard.” Hermione drops her fork and Ron looks at him wide eyed. “What?”

“Harry you know you can’t do that,” Hermione scolds. “It’s against wizard law to reveal yourself to a muggle.”

“Well you can if you marry them,” Ron adds, causing Hermione to pinch his arm. “Ow, what was that for?” he asks, rubbing the spot.

“Harry hasn’t even asked Y/N to be his girlfriend yet, marriage is certainly not an option for him right now and I don’t want you putting ideas into his head, Ronald,” Hermione retorts.

“And who said the idea wasn’t already in his head,” Ron responds, gesturing wildly towards Harry. “He’s been in love with her since their first date.”

Hermione turn to Harry then. “I’m sorry, what?”

Harry shrugs his shoulders, a sheepish look on his face. “She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met, Hermione. How could I not be in love with her?”

“You’ve only been seeing her for a few weeks, Harry,” Hermione says softly. “I just think it’s far too early to say you’re in love with her.”

“I know what I feel,” Harry insists, his tone becoming harsh.

Hermione gives Harry a look. “If you really love her then why not make things official? Then you can revisit the whole wizard thing in a year or so.”

Harry looks down, picking at his napkin. “It’s not that I don’t want to make things official. But the more I let her in the harder it is to explain away the magical parts of my life.” When Hermione places her hand on top of his Harry looks up at her. “I already have to hide so much from her. I’m afraid that if I lie even more she’ll just get tired of it and leave.”

“Harry,” Hermione says sadly, squeezing Harry’s hand. “I know, it’s scary. But I don’t think now is the right time to reveal everything to her. And if she feels as strongly for you as you do her, then you have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry agrees reluctantly, wanting to move on. “So, how are the plans for the engagement party coming along?”

-

“What’s on your mind, love? You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Y/N comments, looking up at Harry.

Harry leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. It’s been a few days since his conversation with Ron and Hermione and he hasn’t stopped thinking about it. Deep down he knows that Hermione is right, that he should wait to tell her about him. But he also knows how strongly he feels for her already, and that he wants to let her in to every part of his life.

“Just been thinking about you. Us,” he says a moment later, pulling her closer into his chest. They’re cuddled up on Harry’s couch, watching some film he hasn’t paid an ounce of attention to.

Y/N hums and sits up so she can properly look at Harry. “Thinking good things, I hope.” Her tone is light, but Harry can tell there’s a hint of nervousness in her voice.

Harry reaches out and lightly grips Y/N’s chin so he can bring their faces together and press a sweet kiss to her lips. “Always good thoughts when I’m thinking of you,” Harry says softly as he pulls away. “I know we’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks but,” Harry pauses, taking a deep breath. “I love you, Y/N. Even if it’s far too early to say that and you don’t feel the same quite yet.”

“Oh Harry,” she whispers, before closing the gap between them. Y/N kisses Harry slowly, trying to reassure him and convey all of her feelings for him at the same time. “I love you too,” Y/N murmurs when they finally break apart. “I knew we were destined to be together the moment we reached for the same milk,” she jokes.

Harry chuckles and kisses her again briefly. “If you’re going to be with someone for the rest of your life it’s imperative you have the same taste in dairy products.”

“Rest of your life?” Y/N asks quietly, a pink blush on her cheeks.

Harry sputters, his face heating up as well. “I. I well. Um. Y-you know. I um.”

Y/N giggles at how flustered Harry is and presses a kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay, love. While I’m not saying we should run out and get married right now, I’m not opposed to that happening with us someday in the future.”

Harry smiles at Y/N, his heart fluttering in his chest. While it’s not a marriage proposal, it’s the promise of something more and it’s good enough for Harry. “Are you busy Sunday evening? I’ve got this party thing to go to in the afternoon but there’s something I want to show you.”

“I’ve got this family thing for most of the day. I’m not sure when it’ll be over, but I can sneak away, make time for you,” Y/N responds sweetly.

Harry kisses Y/N hard, the movie they had put on long forgotten.

-

“Harry! There you are!” Hermione greets excitedly, coming over to hug Harry. He arrived at The Burrow for Hermione and Ron’s engagement party well over an hour ago, but both of his friends had been busy talking to their other guests. So, he just grabbed a drink and milled about, occasionally stopping to talk to people from school.

“Hermione,” Harry greets, returning her hug. “You look wonderful. You’re glowing.”

Hermione blushes and releases Harry from her hug, choosing to grab his hand instead. “Come with me. I want you to meet some of my family.”

Harry follows behind Hermione dutifully, finishing off the rest of his drink for a bit of liquid courage. He would have been happy sticking to the shadows for the rest of the afternoon so he could slip away to meet up with Y/N, but he’s going to be the best man at the wedding in a few months, so he should probably mingle for just a bit before he heads out early.

“You remember my parents, right?” Hermione asks as they reach a small group of people.

Harry nods and releases Hermione’s hand so he can shake her parent’s hands. “Of course. Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“And this is my sister,” Hermione says, causing Harry to look at the girl who has just arrived.

Harry turns to shake her hand, but all of the air gets sucked out of his lungs and his mouth runs dry. “Y/N?” Harry asks, surprised.

“Harry?” Y/N responds, sounding just as shocked as he does.

“What are you doing here?” They both ask at the same time, causing them to erupt in a fit of giggles.

“I went to school with Hermione and Ron, they’re my best friends in the entire world,” he explains, trying to ignore the fact that everyone around them is starting. “Hermione’s your sister?” When Y/N nods Harry continues. “That’s why you seemed so familiar when I first met you. You guys have the same eyes.”

“Care to let the rest of us in on what’s going on?” Ron asks, looking between Y/N and Harry.

Harry reaches out and grabs Y/N’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “Y/N is the girl I’ve been seeing the past few weeks.”

After Y/N and Harry explain their whirlwind romance to Ron, Hermione and the small crowd of Weasley’s and Grangers that has gathered around them, they sneak off together to the corner of the large tent, leaving quite a few perplexed people behind them.

“I can’t believe you’re the Harry. The one I’ve heard about practically non-stop since I was 13,” Y/N teases as they take a seat at an abandoned table.

Harry blushes, squeezing Y/N’s fingers. “I can’t believe Hermione never mentioned having an older sister.”

“From what I remember you three were always getting into trouble back at school. She probably just didn’t have the time,” Y/N muses with a laugh. Y/N pauses, reaching up to cup Harry’s cheek. “I can’t believe that out of all the times we could have met, we finally met in the milk section of our local Tesco.”

Harry laughs at that and he turns his head so he can press a kiss to Y/N’s palm. “I’ve been stressing for weeks about whether or not I should tell you the truth about me. About what I am and who I am. And as it turns out that was all for nothing because you already knew all about it, even if you didn’t realize it.”

Y/N leans forward and kisses Harry lightly. “I kind of had a bit of an inkling that you we’re just some normal bloke,” Y/N admits sheepishly.

“What gave it away?” Harry asks in shock. “I thought I was pulling it off quite well,” he huffs.

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully. “Harry, love you have a pet owl in the middle of London. That’s a bit of an odd pet to keep. Unless you’re a wizard.”

Harry chuckles. “Alright you got me there.” Harry pauses, frowning slightly. “Although this ruins my plan of sneaking off early to see you so I could tell you I’m a wizard. I guess we’ll have to just stick it out until the end of the party.”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at Hermione and Ron. “I dunno, my sister and Ron seem quite busy,” she comments with a grin. “There’s so many other people here, do you think they would notice if we slipped away?”

Harry returns Y/N’s grin before he kisses her briefly. “Even if they do, who cares? I’m sure I’ll get an earful from them tomorrow either way.”

Y/N and Harry sneak out of the tent hand in hand, ready for whatever curveball life throws at them next.

[buckyownsmylife]

daddy issues - chapter iii

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist. It’s being constantly updated

       Leaving work later that day, Ransom was submerged in his own thoughts in a way he hadn’t been ever since he was a teen. Of course, his family - with the exception of his grandfather - thought he didn’t have much in his head, but the truth was that sometimes, he felt like he had too much. So, in an effort not to lose his mind, he decided to let it all go just before he turned fifteen. Everything. Every preoccupation, his mother’s expectations, his fear of never being good enough.        That had served him well up until a couple of months ago. Sure, it meant that he’d created quite a reputation for himself and he’d been involved in one too many drunk endeavors he would have preferred not to be associated with, but at least he had something to share, stories to tell. That would ultimately be extremely beneficial to him if he ever did decide to take his grandfather’s advice and write a book.        But then came the news that Harlan would cut him out of the will if he didn’t get his act together, along with the proposal that he should take over the publishing company, since his uncle was being reallocated to another family business, and he thought to himself, maybe this is it. Maybe this is the time to settle back and become what he’d dreaded so much. Maybe it’s time for him to forget about fun and amusement and discover what exactly was so great about maturing.        So he accepted the job and tried to focus on what he was supposed to be doing. Who he was supposed to be. It seemed like the right thing to do after he’d spent so long trying to run from any sort of difficulty in life. It seemed like he owed his grandfather at least that. But over the next few months, it became increasingly difficult to fulfill his duties without seriously reconsidering everything he had been before and everything he had tried to avoid thinking about, which had lead to his admittedly stupid impulsive behavior.        Ransom was in his late thirties now, and he was only starting to realize just how messed up he was. And that meant that the last thing he thought himself capable of becoming right now was a father.        Actually, Ransom had never even considered the possibility of ever becoming one. I mean, he liked the part that came before, very much in fact, but despite his playboy ways, he’d always been very careful about using a condom, especially since he didn’t want to deal with precisely the type of problem he was going through right now. But of course, even he knew that condoms failed and with his luck (and the amount of sexual partner he’d had) it was only a matter of time until it happened.        Fuck. What the hell was he going to do? It’s not like he even had a proper parental figure to learn from, considering his father was an even lousier son-of-a-bitch than him and his mother was a controlling freak. What was he going to do?        Ransom was startled when he realized he was nowhere near his house when he’d finally been able to snap out from his thoughts. In fact, his feet had taken him in the opposite direction, and he found himself easily following the familiar path to his grandfather’s house.        Just as the castle-like mansion appeared in front of him, he sighed, looking up at the window of Harlan’s office. It seemed like he was awake. He wondered what his grandfather would have to say about this situation. Harlan managed to be even more unpredictable than Ransom most times.       Still, Ransom knew that if there was ever someone who was capable of giving him any advice he’d actually follow, it was him.       Harlan, of course, knew something was up the second Ransom stepped foot in his room. He’d always been the one person capable of reading his grandson, and that meant he was probably the only one who actually somewhat understood him.       “Well, Ransom, it’s very nice of you to come and visit me when there’s no family dinner forcing you to, but care to share what actually made you drive all the way here? I know it has nothing to do with the company, otherwise, I would have already heard about it from one of the managers.”       Ransom couldn’t really be surprised about Harlan and his knowledge of him, so he settled for some feeling kind of comfort at knowing at least someone in this world could see right through him and actually cared enough to ask about his problems.       “I… I got someone pregnant.” The words came out weirdly easily, and it felt like some of the weight that’d been placed on him had now disappeared. He raised his eyes to meet Harlan’s, after his grandfather didn’t offer any immediate reaction, and the anticipation made him grow irritated again.       He really should learn other automatic responses.       “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Harlan took a deep breath before answering, a tiny smile playing on his lips.       “What are you expecting me to say? Congratulations or I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner?” The young man rolled his eyes, impulsively getting up from his seat to pace around the room. His mind was failing him, he couldn’t hold on to a single thought for more than a millisecond. He’d come all the way here in the hopes that Harlan would know what to do, the right thing to say to shed some light on the mess that was his mind, but he should have known better. That was not how his grandfather worked.      But his grandfather knew how *he worked. So he patiently waited, watching with piercing attention as Ransom tried to get a grip over his thoughts. He knew his grandson would need time, but he would voice his concerns sooner or later. And then, he’d be able to actually help, once he determined what precisely was Ransom’s problem with the entire situation.        “I’m not father material,” the young man suddenly blurted out, running his fingers through his hair and inadvertently messing his usually impeccable styling. Harlan smiled to himself, knowing only a year before this would never happen, not without his grandson suddenly leaping towards the nearest reflective surface just to adjust his hair. He’d changed so much already, but he still was overcome by doubts. “I don’t think… I think the baby would be better off not knowing me.”        And there it was. That overwhelming sense of insecurity was the reason for Ransom being the way he was. No matter how hard he tried to run away from it, pretend it wasn’t there, Harlan knew his grandson too well. And now that he was starting to change his life, facing his biggest problem was going to happen sooner or later. Since there was a baby in question, thank God it was sooner rather than later.        “My boy, I understand why you would think that. It’s not like you have had great parental examples to guide you in such a journey, and I even accept my part of the blame in that. But I think you have the wrong idea of what being a parent truly is like. No matter how it may seem to our kids, no single adult suddenly is struck by the obvious guidelines of how to be a perfect parent. We figure out as we go, and we make mistakes along the way. A lot of them. So I think the question that really matters here is… do *you want to be around to witness your child grow? Or would you be okay never really knowing what became of him or her?”        Harlan braced himself for the answer, knowing it would deeply affect him one way or another, but also aware that he couldn’t let Ransom see what his reaction would be like. It would only make the younger man angry. It was important for him to think he was the only one in charge of his decisions, and the only one affected by them.         When it became clear that Ransom was too lost in his own mind to come out with an answer just yet, his grandfather pressed on. “Look, Ransom, parenting is a skill, just like writing. Some people are born naturally talented, others have to rise to the occasion. You just have to figure out if you’re up for the challenge, because if you aren’t… I think it’d be best if you let them be.”        A few more seconds of heavy silence where Ransom still wouldn’t meet his eyes passed, and Harlan decided to ask, “Tell me, is *she ‘mother material’?” His grandson took a deep breath, once more running his fingers through his hair before admitting, “I don’t know. I barely know her at all. But she’s a professor. Of law, out of anything. And she seemed… good. Better than me, at least, and that’s a relief.”        The older man couldn’t help but laugh at how Ransom’s sense of humor tended to show its face in the weirdest of situations. He knew what his grandson should do, that he’d regret not giving this a try, but he also knew no good could come from trying to force Ransom into doing something when he wasn’t ready for or didn’t want to do it. So all he could do was wait, and hope the younger man would find the right answer by himself.       “I think I know what I want to do.”       Harlan couldn’t help but notice the sparkle in Ransom’s eye as he left the house without even remembering to say goodbye.

[mypoisonedvine]

Satisfied | Andy Barber x reader (chapter 3)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) 

series summary: you’re the only lawyer in Boston who can get under Andy Barber’s skin, but you didn’t realise that he was trying to get under your clothes.  as is the nature of law, it’s only a matter of time before the truth is discovered.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: smut, rough sex, safewording, oral (f receiving), angst, non-linear storytelling/flashbacks

a/n: I wrote this series originally with my friend joyce, and after she deactivated some of the chapters were lost.  this series is long-since completed, but I’m reposting now so people can still read!

You stretched a little, eyes still closed to protect them from the blinding sunlight peeking in. Daylight had crept up on you, and it came quickly. You were sure that you had only fallen asleep a mere few minutes before you woke; muscles sore from overexertion. Letting out a groan, you shifted your body once again trying to get comfortable. 

Andy really did a number on your body and you needed a deep stretch to try and regain some control over your aching muscles. You turned and looked at him. Andy was peaceful. His brows were relaxed and his mouth was slightly agape. You hadn’t realized just how badly you missed seeing him like that. So much so that you caught yourself just in time. Your hand had almost reached his cheek before pulling back.

“Stop moving,” Andy mumbled from beside you. When you did not quit the shuffling, he groaned and wrapped his arms around your body, trapping you beneath his weight. 

It caused you to hesitate and freeze for a second. His body heat radiated onto your naked body. His skin against yours. Memories of the night before flooded your mind and it’s then that you realized that the feeling of his body was ingrained in your existence.

“Andy…” you whispered but he ignored you, snuggling back into the sheets instead. It felt almost domestic. And wrong. It felt really wrong. Maybe it was the fact that it reminded you of being young, and in love, again.

In love with Andy.

---

“We should do this again sometime,” Andy beamed as you got up off the bed and pulled your t-shirt back over your head from where it had been tossed onto the floor.  Ah yes, the telltale smile of a man who just got laid.

“Andy, I probably should’ve been more clear,” you admitted.  “I’m not looking for a relationship.  I’m too busy, and I’ve always felt that single women are taken more seriously in law school.”

You expected him to question it, but he nodded.  “Yeah, that is probably true.  Fucked up, but true.”

He hopped up and followed you before you could walk to the bathroom, turning you around with a hand on your shoulder.  “Does that mean that we can’t do this again?”

“Oh, we’re definitely going to do it again,” you grinned, biting your bottom lip.  “Just, not as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

He seemed happy enough with that answer, if not ecstatic. 

“But for now, I need to study, so get out of my room,” you chuckled, watching him redress with a satisfied smirk on your face.

---

Another party, another stupid performative social event, another red plastic cup with god knows what in it that you have no intention of actually drinking.  Or at least you had no intention when you walked in.

Andy was better at this.  People actually cheered when he came into the room— but admittedly he was also holding booze so, they might have been cheering for that.  But they were still happy to see him, and who wouldn’t be?  You were too, but you tried to hide it.  The company line was still that you two didn’t care much for each other, and it was… somewhat true, he still got on your nerves, but you undeniably had a soft spot for him.  Perhaps literally.

You decided you could pull him aside for a chat once, that wouldn’t be too suspicious.  But it couldn’t be right as he walked in, so you were basically just counting the minutes in your head until you could talk to him.  But then you were just trying to not get caught looking at him every 30 seconds.  How was he so… attractive?  Not just hot, but magnetic.  Guys jumped over to laugh with him.  Girls hung off his arm while he told hilarious stories.  And here you were, across the room staring because you didn’t want to be a part of his harem.

Speaking of harem, he seemed to have a new fan tonight, and she was hanging onto his every word.  You’d seen her around before— Jessie something, most likely short for Jessica but at the moment you decided it was short for Jezebel.  She was cute.  Gorgeous, actually.  One of those girls who looked like she just got up in the morning and brushed her hair and was already model-perfect.  You tried not to hate that about her, you tried not to hate her because she was just a beautiful girl talking with this amazing, charismatic guy and you had no reason to be mad at her because she was just— oh my fucking god did she just grab his bicep???  SKANK!

You left the party quickly after that, deciding you didn’t like the person you were becoming.  One of the many, many reasons you’d sworn not to get involved with guys in law school was because you knew how women could get defensive and territorial over men, and you were never going to prioritize getting dick over being a good feminist.  How had you already fallen so far?

You were grateful for the half-empty bottle of Fireball in your cupboard. It was to be your companion to drown out the sorrows. You hoped that it would be enough to make you forget what you saw. Especially the fact that Jezebel and Andy would have made a good couple. They looked good together. Not right. But good nonetheless.

---

“...the defendant clearly has the mental capacity for there to be mens rea. He should be prosecuted and I don’t understand how I am the only person that thinks so,” Andy tugged at his hair in frustration as you walked beside each other down the hall. “I think it’s ridiculous that--”

“Are you fucking that Jessie chick?” you suddenly interjected, trying (and failing) to curb the anger bubbling in your stomach. Andy’s eyebrows shot up and you felt a sense of dissatisfaction at the response. He proceeded to drag you into an empty classroom.

“You have no right to be jealous,” he reminded you firmly.  “We’re not dating.” 

“I know, I know. Who said that I’m jealous?” you frowned, but your voice was a lot higher than usual, “but that doesn’t mean I’m down to catch whatever cooties you get from her.”

“You think I’m gonna sleep with her?” he asked incredulously.

“Uh, yeah,” you retorted with a heavy layer of patriotism, “and everyone else thinks so, too.”

He reached out and cupped your face, tilting it up to make sure you were looking at him.  “Just because we’re not together… doesn’t mean I want anybody else.” He looked so sincere and sounded so soft that it took you aback. You had never expected Andy to say that. Ever.

“I… what?”

“Baby,” he sighed, and your heart tensed a little, “you’re the reason I’m not your boyfriend.  I don’t want to date anybody else, I don’t want to be with anybody else… you’re it.  Just you.”

“Oh,” you nodded with wide eyes.

“Are you… seeing other people?  Not that you can’t, I just… I didn’t think you were.”

“No, no,” you dismissed, “I only… no.”

“Then let’s make it official.  You have no reason to be jealous.  Be my girlfriend.”

“But I—”

“We don’t have to tell people,” he quickly backpedaled.  “I know you don’t want to be seen as half of a couple, or an extension of me or something.  But I wanna be able to call you my girlfriend.  Even if I can’t actually tell anybody about it.”

You looked at him, making sure he wasn’t joking or messing around before slowly nodding. His face lit up, “but we have to keep it on the down-low,” you reminded him quickly, to which he nodded.

“That we do. Verity would advocate for our expulsion if she knew.” Your eyes went wide with fear. Andy was right. It had the potential to completely decimate your career.

“Andy, we can’t tell anyone about this,” you whispered sharply, “especially now that we’re on a case together.”

“Calm down, baby,” he soothed. It was the first time he called you that since you became secretly-official and it sounded different now, somehow; it made your stomach flutter a little. “Trust me, I know, and it will be fine. Verity won’t find out.”

“Okay,” you nodded, believing him, “however, you really shouldn’t be calling Dr. Verity Woods, J.D. Esq. by her first name alone.”

“You don’t need to use her full name and title,” Andy laughs, “she said it’s fine to call her by her first name. You were there.”

“That I was. But it doesn’t feel right, especially since she’s leading the case.”

Andy shook his head and smiled. You really were something else but he needed it. He needed you. Even all of the crazy and particular aspects of your personality. “Speaking of her, I need to go to her office in—” Andy looked at his watch— “shit, 10 minutes.”

“Well, go, run,” you gestured at the door and Andy bolted out, not even having the time to peck your lips. You waited a few moments before leaving the room, not wanting to attract any attention.

---

“Hey, cupcake,” he cooed and then kissed your ear. Without having to look at him, you knew that he had a smug grin on his face and enjoyed the teasing.

“You eat one cupcake one time and suddenly it becomes your whole identity,” you groaned with a roll of your eyes. Andy’s body pressed up against yours and you tried to push him off but the warmth of his body was far too comforting.

“But you looked so cute when you got frosting on your nose,” he recalled.  

“Go away,” you giggled and squealed as Andy tickled you, “s-stop it.”

“Come on, cupcake, you can do better than that,” Andy continued to tickle you until you fell on the floor in a giggling heap, “all you have to do is let me call you cupcake.”

“Andy—” you squealed. “Barber, you better stop this right now!” Your stomach hurt from the laughter as his fingers dug into your waist making you scream.

“Come on, cupcake.”

“N-no!”

“Since that’s the case, I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing.” 

“Fine!  Fine,” you relented, “you win.”

---

You looked around the sterile reception as you took a seat on the plush sofa and looked out of the window. The California sun shone into the room illuminating everything in its path. You weren’t running away, you told yourself repeatedly. Maybe you would believe it at some point. It was simply that you needed a change of scenery.

One thing that you were sure of was that you were more than qualified for the job. And that should be enough. But it came at a cost. Your personal life. It had always been on the back-burner for you but you had to accept you had chosen the lonely path. 

Nobody had ever told you just how much you, as a woman, had to sacrifice to be successful. And so you learnt the hard way. Your friends told you that you had made your bed so you had to lie in it. They were not wrong but they did nothing to ease the vacancy in your heart. 

Flicking through one of the magazines on the table, you let it distract you from the ticking clock. It seemed that you were the only person that was there for the job which should have eased your nerves. But you haven’t always been the first choice. 

---

“Am I remembering correctly that you were valedictorian of your class?” the man across from you had your resume in front of him and was still unable to get it right. Maybe the job was not right for you. But it was a better offer than still being in Boston.

“Salutatorian,” you corrected coldly, gaze piercing. You tapped your nails on the table as the interviewer tried to regain his posture. 

“Oh, well,” he shrugged, “that’s still pretty good.”

Pretty good.  You didn’t believe in stuff like that.  There was greatness, and nothing else.  “Well, that’s the past,” you quickly shut off the conversation about your greatest failure and threw the man a tight-lipped smile.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “what makes you think that you will be suitable for the role?”

The fear left your system. You were sure of yourself. You were more than qualified. 

---

“Time to get up for breakfast,” Andy roused you from your sleep. You had no idea when you went back to sleep but it was your turn to groan. “Don’t make me wake you up; you won’t like that.”

“I’m tired. Leave me alone, Barber,” too tired and sore to really care about eating or the punishment. That being said, you were a little hungry after missing dinner.

“I know you’re sore so don’t make me wake you up,” he warned but you still refused to pay him any mind. That was your mistake as Andy ripped the covers from your body; exposing it to the chilly morning air. 

“What are you doing?” 

Andy didn’t respond. Instead, his face went to your core. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he cooed, “I think it’s time for you to wake up.” He licked a stripe across your sex and watched it glimmer in the light. Fisting the blankets beneath you, your back arched involuntarily.

You let out a breathy moan when he parted your folds to allow his tongue better access to your dripping cunt. He licked and explored your body like it was the first time he was given the privilege. 

“Taste so good,” his voice reverberated through your body sensing little shocks of pleasure through you. Andy suckled on your clit making you cry out. His beard scratched the soft skin of your inner thigh and your sensitive folds. The contrast of his soft, wet tongue and his rough beard made your eyes roll back.

“Andy,” you mewled, “please.”

“What do you want?” Andy taunted you. Your body kept moving; your hands tugging at the sheets. You needed him to do more. He was teasing you. “Words, my little fuckdoll.”

You were unable to form any coherent sentences when Andy had such control over your body. He inserted one finger into your aching core, massaging your walls. “You have to use your words or I’ll stop now seeing as you’re awake.”

“No,” you rushed out. “P-please let me come.” You had no dignity left but you were too far gone to care. You needed Andy’s mouth and fingers too badly. 

“Well,” Andy clicked his tongue as his lips curled into a smile, “since you asked so nicely...”

---

Unable to find your clothes fast enough, you found a discarded Harvard sweatshirt of his and slipped it on, smiling to yourself at the bagginess. Looking down at the left sleeve, you realized that it was the same one you wore when you were dating. It made you feel a little nostalgic. The sweatshirt was practically yours.

You emerged from the bedroom to find him in the kitchen with an apron on-- why the fuck did he own an apron?-- and messing around at the stove.  He must have heard you enter because he turned to you with a smile.

“Huevos rancheros!” he announced with a smile, lifting the pan for you to see.

You looked to him, and the pan of eggs, and around his stylish condo worthy of an ADA’s inflated salary, and shivered with the overwhelming sense of ‘wrong’. That was even in spite of your rumbling stomach. “Andy, stop, this is all too much. Too domestic,” you whispered, unable to look at Andy when you said it.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say things like that,” Andy pleaded, “I just want to see you.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Exactly what I said. I want to see you.”

“You’ve seen me before.”

“But I can’t remember the last time that I saw the real you,” Andy’s words made your stomach turn. “I don’t know the last time I saw the you that I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“She doesn’t exist anymore, Andy,” you whispered, “you need to let her go.  God knows I did.”

“No, she’s not. I don’t believe that,” he argued; heart breaking by the second, “she’s still there, I’m certain of that. You wouldn’t end up here so often if she doesn’t exist. And you wouldn’t be so upset about not being valedictorian.”

“We shouldn’t keep doing this, Andy,” you decided with a sigh as you found your purse and attempted to gather your things.  Where the fuck were your clothes again?

“No. You don’t get to say that,” he raised his voice, shedding his apron as he left the kitchen, “you can’t just waltz back into my life and keep... taking. It’s not fair.”

“Taking?  I’m not taking anything, you’re throwing yourself on me!  I don’t know what you want from me, Andy,” you sighed, placing your purse on the sofa.

“The same thing that I’ve always wanted.”

“Maybe it’s not what I want,” you lied through your teeth. “Have you ever thought about that?”

“Then why do you keep coming back?” Andy’s voice cracked. You knew that you were hurting him. And yourself. But there was no other way. 

“Because I love being humiliated, and you are the most embarrassing thing I could possibly be involved with.  Because you already know all my fucked up kinky shit and I’d rather keep the number of people who know that down to a minimum.  Because when I walk home after seeing you I feel fucking sick to my stomach and filthy and stupid and I like it.  Because I love the way that fucking you makes me hate myself.”

“I’m used to you lying to me, but I think now’s a good time for you to stop lying to yourself,” he shouted, the vein in his neck appearing.  You were shocked to realize that you had actually hurt him. Badly.  “Actually, it’s more than overdue. You’ve been doing it for what? Ten years?”

 “Why can’t you just admit to yourself that you want this?” He pointed at the house, and then himself. “That you want me.” His voice was so strained that you felt a little guilty.

“I don’t want you.”

“That’s not the impression I got last night. Or this morning. You were just begging for me.”

Something about arguing with him was so erotic.  Was that a strange thing to think?  It certainly made court a lot more interesting.  And now you found your gaze trailing greedily over his body and as it met his eyes once more, you saw that he knew what you wanted.  That you were falling back into this cycle again.

“If you want me to want you again,” you hissed, “you’re gonna have to make me beg, aren’t you?”

He slammed into you, tossing you down onto the sofa as he slid his own sweatshirt up your body, latching his lips onto your nipple which was embarrassingly already hard.

“You say it like I’ve not been making you beg since you were twenty-two,” he growled, teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“I can’t seem to remember that.”

“Well I guess it’s time for me to remind you, then,” he swiped a finger across your (already wet) folds and looked at his slick-coated fingers with pride. He had always loved the way you glistened on his skin.

He pushed your back down until you arched it for him.  “Get that ass up, baby.”  You moaned when he slapped your ass quickly, tugging on your hair to arch your back even further.  “Want me to put this cock in you?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“You can do better than that,” he tutted disappointedly.

You stopped yourself from responding because you knew you would say more than you should.  He leaned down and pressed his lips right against your ear.

“We both know it, just say it,” he encouraged in a low voice.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.  He slipped his hand around your neck and tightened until your face tingled from the loss of blood.

“Don’t say anything until you’re ready to be honest,” he instructed, finally slipping his cock into you— and even though you couldn’t breathe or moan or speak, you managed to react plenty strongly to the feeling anyways.  You were outrageously sore from a long night of fucking and the pain burned just the right way.

He began to move his hips, each time, the base of his cock would brush against your overstimulated clit. Each thrust hitting that one place that made your body quiver. But then it got a bit too much. The stretch and burn of his cock and the hand around your throat.

“Objection!” you yelped your safeword, and instantly he stilled, slipping his arms around you and holding you close.  Tears started to pour against your will.  “I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I can’t believe that after all this time you still remembered…”

“Never apologize,” he hushed, kissing your shoulder.  “I went too hard on you. And I could never forget a safeword like that,” he laughed softly.

“No, no, I just… I got a little overwhelmed.  It’s not your fault.”

“Do you want a glass of water?” he asked lightly.  “I’ll help you get dressed…”

“No, stay,” you requested.

“Okay,” he nodded, a little surprised.  “Tell me how to help you.”

“Just hold me,” you shivered, “like you used to.  Back when you liked me.”

He chuckled.  “I like you.  Even now; I always have… especially when you didn’t think that I did.”

“We’ll see if you say that in court tomorrow.”

“Almost certainly will not,” he admitted, eliciting a small smile from you.

He pulled you down to lay on his chest as he relaxed into the sofa.  His fingers delicately ran along your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and you let your breathing steady back to normal as your eyes fell shut. 

You looked up at him after a while and appreciated the peaceful look on his face.  It wasn’t something you saw on him often, since you were always pissing him off.  Maybe that was why you liked getting on his nerves so much; because when you saw him like this, happy, you remembered feelings you wanted to forget.  But there was also a part of you that just wanted him to feel something about you when he saw you.  The opposite of love is not hate but indifference… and even if you didn’t want him to love you, and knew that he could never love you again, you couldn’t live with indifference. 

You sat up and he looked at you but you said nothing, just leaning down and kissing him again.  He kissed you back, slipping his hand around the back of your neck to hold you close.  His breathing against your face began to speed up a bit as you straddled him with your legs, rubbing your hips along his again.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked softly as you reached down to guide his cock into you one more time. You closed your eyes briefly.

“I’m sure that I’m not okay,” you responded as you moved your hips down and felt him slip inside you, “but I need you right now.”

He nodded and you sat up to plunge yourself down onto his cock, moaning as his length reached deeper into you than normal from this angle.  His hands gripped your hips tightly, not out of any sense of dominance but simply his reaction to the feeling of you as you began to ride him.  You were slow at first, balancing yourself on his chest, but it wasn’t too long until you were bouncing with abandon, moaning his name over and over while he watched you closely.

Your hand fell to his chest and you felt his heartbeat, strong and steady.  You wished you could be so strong as that.  You wished you could be so stable.  

He sat up suddenly, looking at you with a hint of concern.  He must have seen the fear on your face.  He pulled you closer and you still, instead letting him grind deeper into you as he held your face in his hands.

“So beautiful,” he whispered reverently, kissing your collarbone lightly.

“Andy…” you sighed, another tear falling but for an entirely different reason.

“So perfect,” he continued, kisses trailing to your neck.  He wrapped you in his arms and you both moved together in a way that didn’t feel like what you were used to at all.  Your orgasm came and went with only a stuttered gasp but he felt it and praised you all along the way, made some promises he couldn’t keep, said some things you elected to ignore.  

You fell asleep together and stayed that way well into the afternoon, not having gotten the most effective night’s sleep beforehand.  When you woke up to golden light on your face and a snoring Andy Barber, you gave him a quick, tight hug before you got up, finally recovered your clothes, and grabbed the handle of his door.  Something stopped you, though you couldn’t be sure what, and you looked back to watch him on the couch again.  You found yourself setting your purse down and undressing again, trading the wrinkled suit for that stupid Harvard hoodie, and slipping back under his arm on the couch.  You weren’t very tired anymore so you watched him sleep for a bit, running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp.  You remembered him liking that before, you hoped he hadn’t changed his mind.  It was a familiar feeling, safe feeling, one that you hadn’t felt in so long.  You couldn’t think about what would happen tomorrow, what had happened yesterday.  You just let yourself swim in the comfort of him for a little while longer.

(next chapter)

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 7th of June 2021

This is speculation only

Cards drawn 7th of June 2021

Question: What is Meghan planning for the G7 summit?

Interpretation: A deception. It will be a PR success at first, but then it will turn sour.

Card One: The Moon. Deception. Lies. Secrets. Driving people crazy with these secrets. The shadows and half seen things of night as opposed to the clear light of day.

The card shows the goddess Hecate, who dwelt in the underworld. She was regarded as one of the rulers or powerful figures in the underworld. Places associated with her were crossroads, tombs, and the scenes of crimes. Her companions were the Furies, the beings who tormented humans who broke the law of the gods. She presided over purification and expiation, and sent demons to torment people through their dreams. She is associated (among other things) with witches, plant lore, and childbirth.

Meghan is going to do something very deceptive. It is an action that in the past she would need to expiate, or submit to purification to be considered cleaned of it. It won't bother her, but it is something that most people would regard with horror if they knew the full story behind it. The Moon is lies, deceit, illusions, and this is what Meghan is going to use to conceal the truth, so we only see what she wants us to see. The public will be given a pretty surface picture, and the real truth underneath it will be much darker.

This deception may involve a child. Hecate hid from her parents in the house of a woman giving birth, and was sent to the underworld to be purified, where she remained. That link between Hecate and childbirth is coming through quite strongly in the energy of this card, as is a sense of bad/negative/dark energy.

This is the only major arcana card of the reading, so it is a dominant energy of the reading.

Card Two: The Six of Wands. This is a card of success. Something has come to a triumphant conclusion. There will be recognition by others and public acclaim. The card shows Jason triumphantly holding the golden fleece over his head, with his companions cheering him in the background.

Wands can be the suit of PR. Meghan is going to put out something via PR that will work for her. She will get attention, and she may even get some celebrities coming out and speaking about the news, just like Jason's companions are applauding him. It will be a glittering moment of success for her.

Card Three: The Ace of Pentacles. This is a card about new financial beginnings or a new opportunity for stability. It can also be a card about a baby or a child, especially and earth sign child. Here I think it is about a child. The PR news that Meghan puts out will be about a child, and it will bring her monetary rewards or the opportunity for monetary rewards as well as the PR success of the last card.

Card Four: The Four of Pentacles. This is a card of holding on tightly to things, especially material things and things of the past. These things can be ones that boost your self esteem, and a loss of them is like losing a part of your confidence.

The card shows Daedalus clutching four pentacles to his chest, the result of his work, while he looks across at his nephew, who is more skilled than Daedalus is at the craft. Daedalus is envious and jealous of his nephew, and it shows in his face.

Daedalus here represents Meghan (and Harry). Meghan is clinging on tightly to her titles, the last bit of glory she has from her days as a working royal. She is jealous of the 'big events' that other royals get to attend, such as the G7 summit. She is trying to get that attention back on herself. I think that this attitude will become very, very obvious to just about everyone. Her PR stunt will start to be seen as a desperate attempt to stay connected to the royal family in some way.

I keep thinking of William and Catherine as the Prince and Princess of Wales. I do not want anything to happen to elevate them to that position just yet, but when it does happen, Meghan will be consumed with jealousy and will be doing the equivalent of waving her titles (her gold coins) and shouting "I am relevant too, moreso than them!'.

Card Five: The Ten of Swords. This is a card of utter despair, of being at rock bottom. It is the card of betrayal, being stabbed in the back. The card shows Orestes huddles in a heap on the ground, utterly spent. The Furies that have tormented him are kept at bay behind a wall of swords, and over him stands the goddess Athena, the goddess on the card of Justice, protecting him. The sunrise at the back of the card signifies hope, but Orestes can not see it due to his exhausted despair.

Someone is going to hit rock bottom and be in complete despair. They will be betrayed by someone they care about. This is the end for them. They can not take any more. All they can do is lie there, like Orestes on the card, completely drained. They are protected, like Athena protects Orestes, but they can not do anything to save themselves.

I get two energies from this card. The first is Harry. Whatever Meghan does, it is doing to drive him to rock bottom. He will be like Orestes, just lying on the ground in exhausted despair, having no where to run and no where to turn to (in his mind). In reality, of course, he has the protection and comfort of his family if he will just reach out to them. The Ten of Swords can be a card of physical death, and I really hope Harry is going to be able to pick himself up and walk away from this and not kill himself over the betrayal.

The second energy I get from this card is Meghan. Something is going to go wrong for her, and it will be very bitter for her. She will feel abandoned by everyone who previously supported her.

Card Six: The King of Cups. This is a water sign man, particularly a Scorpio, and this card is coming through as Prince Charles. He will show the compassionate nature of the King of Cups in his dealings with Harry, as he will be moved by the pain Harry is suffering. He is coming through as a rather remote figure here, very kingly, not very personal. I hope to goodness that this following the card of betrayal and possible death (the Ten of Swords) does not mean the death of HM at this time as well as everything else going on in the reading.

Underlying Energy One: The Three of Pentacles. This is a card of three people working together to make something manifest in the world, by giving time or money or energy to the task. There is an initial success. The card shows Daedalus being paid for his work by three men, an early indication of the success of his crafting skills. This echoes the success shown in the Six of Wands card, and hints that the PR will be paid PR and not organic interest. The three figures indicate that there is more than one person involved in this deception of Meghan's. She may be the driving force, but she needs other people (possibly paid for their role) to pull it off.

The three of Pentacles is my surrogacy card, so again we have hints of a child being involved (as per the Moon card and the Ace of Pentacles card).

Underlying Energy Two: The Six of Pentacles. This is a card of money/status/rewards, asking for it and bestowing it. The card shows the King Minos giving six gold pentacles (quite a bit of money) to the craftsman Daedalus. King Minos looks similar enough to the figure on the King of Cups card for me to link the two. The person giving the money is Charles, and the people begging for the money (or more money) are Harry and Meghan. I don't know if they will get it (I suspect not), but part of the reason for the deception in the reading is to force more money out of Prince Charles. Meghan may be applying pressure for her children to have titles (worldly status) as well.

Conclusion: Meghan is going to put out a lie or deception of some sort to get attention. Several people will be involved in this deception, and part of the reason for her doing it is to force Prince Charles to give her more money (and perhaps titles for her kids). The deception will be initially successful, and may result in her obtaining some money. It may involve a child. Then something will show how attached Meghan is to her titles/her previous royal status, and things will go downhill. Meghan will feel betrayed and abandoned by the world, and Harry will hit rock bottom. Charles at the end is a shining figure, like a King and not the Prince of Wales. He will help Harry if Harry asks for help.

[a-secret-bolton-vampire]

Been wanting to do this one for a long while. Thinking a lot about Fire and Blood because House of the Dragon is coming up, and there are quite a lot of parallels between the Dance of the Dragons and the main ASOIAF series. More below...

The Dance of the Dragons happened, in part, because the legitimacy of Rhaenyra's children was in question. Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey (how fitting, two bastard children named Joffrey) had brown hair instead of the typical silver-blonde hair of Targaryen and Velaryon children, and their father was not Laenor Velaryon, but rather Harwin Strong. Because of this, Rhaenyra's claim to the Iron Throne was contested, since her heirs would be bastards.

Not too dissimilar to the beginning of the War of the Five Kings, where Cersei, the beautiful queen of King Robert, fathered three bastard children in secret with her brother Jaime, all of them with the golden blond hair of the Lannisters. Then when Robert died, Joffrey ascended the throne, and Ned backed Stannis, who was in truth the rightful heir to the throne... we all know how that went of course. Also, while Rhaenyra's Joffrey was the youngest of the three, Cersei's Joffrey was the oldest of the three.

Rhaenyra and Cersei are very strong parallels. Rhaenyra was secretly involved in an affair with a family member (her uncle Daemon) whilst Cersei was involved in a secret affair with her own family member (brother Jaime). The difference, of course, being that Rhaenyra ended up marrying Daemon because Targs do Targ things, and Cersei just kept her affair with Jaime secret because they weren't Targs. In addition, Rhaenyra ended up losing all three of her children, becoming more and more bitter and distraught, becoming prone to paranoia.

Meanwhile, Cersei has thus far only lost Joffrey, but the valonqar prophecy states she will lose all three of her children. Like Rhaenyra, though, after the death of Joffrey, she does become more prone to paranoia and is increasingly bitter. Rhaenyra was eventually fed to Sunfyre by her half-brother Aegon. If Jaime is truly the valonqar, then Cersei might end up being killed by her brother as well. Eventually, Rhaenyra did end up becoming estranged from Daemon, and currently Cersei is estranged from Jaime.

However, a better Dance parallel with Cersei and Jaime is Rhaenyra and Criston Cole. They were lovers, a future queen with a member of the Kingsguard. They later suffered some sort of estrangement (the nature of which is a source of conflict in terms of what is real) that led to Criston eventually siding with the greens over the blacks during the Dance. Criston also was made Hand of the King, while Cersei presses for Jaime to be made Hand, but he refuses the position.

However, Rhaenyra isn't the only Cersei parallel. Alicent Hightower is another. Like Cersei, she supports her eldest son in claiming the throne against its lawful heir, and is the dowager queen of the former king... And she is the daughter of the Hand of the King, who is a member of one of the richest, most powerful families in the kingdoms. However, Rh

But the parallels run even deeper than that. It shocked me to see how far these go. The story of Aegon III and Viserys II as children is not too dissimilar to both the story of Daenerys and Viserys after Robert's Rebellion and some of the Stark children. Like Dany and Viserys, Viserys II ended up spending a lot of time in the Free Cities, specifically Lys, although he was captured in battle and returned as a hostage, whereas Dany and Viserys spent time in Illyrio's mansion as guests. Arya also went to Braavos, a Free City, but that's about where the similarities end so that isn't very intentional, I think.

Nonetheless, both Aegon and Viserys spent the majority of the war separated from each other and only reunited after it ended. Likewise, the Stark children were separated from each other for the majority of the war as well, and seem poised to reunite after the initial War of the Five Kings is over. And speaking of Starks, Aegon III does have a slight parallel with Bran.

As confirmed by George, Bran will be the King of Westeros by the end of the books, and there is a moniker given to him in the show that actually does appear in the books, of Bran the Broken. Meanwhile, at the end of the Dance, Aegon is now the King, and he is known as the Broken King, because of his extreme PTSD and depression from his traumatic experiences during the war.

Doesn't even end there. Now we get into some of, in my opinion, the biggest parallels with the Dance and ASOIAF proper. We all know about R+L=J, and the Dance has not one, but two big nods to this. First is the story told by Mushroom of when Jacaerys visited Winterfell. Supposedly, he fell in love with Cregan's bastard half-sister Sara Snow, and the two secretly wed before the Winterfell heart tree. Regardless of the validity of the story, Cregan and Jace did end up agreeing to what was called the Pact of Ice and Fire, wherein Jace's firstborn daughter would marry Cregan's son Rickon... son of a Targaryen king marrying the daughter of Lord Stark? Hmmm....

However, the other one is a lot more significant, to me anyways, and that would be the relationship between Crown Prince Aemond One-Eye and Alys Rivers. During the Dance, when Aemond took over Harrenhal, he took Alys Rivers as his paramour. The mysterious Alys was said to be a witch who was a bastard of House Strong, a House that has strong ties to the First Men. So, Valyrian crown prince and a First Man woman in love... but don't worry, it gets extremely apparent afterwards.

Aemond impregnates Alys and leaves her in a tower to go fight Daemon, during which Aemond is killed, leaving Alys all alone. Rhaegar impregnates Lyanna and leaves her in a tower to go fight Robert, during which Rhaegar is killed and leaves Alys all alone... then, years later, during winter, the Hand of the King Tyland Lannister tries to get together a force to retake Harrenhal, as it is held by brigands and thieves and broken men, only to find Alys there... with a young child she calls her and Aemond's trueborn son, and the rightful King of Westeros.

If that isn't enough for you, there is a very distinct similarity in the armour of Rhaegar and Aemond. Rhaegar's armour is mentioned to have been;

Seventeen and new to knighthood, Rhaegar Targaryen had worn black plate over golden ringmail when he cantered onto the lists.

And:

The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate.

Compare this to Aemond's own armour.

Vhagar had come at last, and on her back rode the one-eyed Prince Aemond Targaryen, clad in nightblack armor chased with gold.

It seems clear to me that George is trying to tell us something. I think Aemond and Alys are a sort of dark mirror to Rhaegar and Lyanna. Rhaegar was considered a very noble, chivalrous prince who was well loved by the smallfolk, and Lyanna had a strong sense of Stark justice (as seen in the Knight of the Laughing Tree story). Meanwhile, Aemond was a narcissistic, psychopathic mass murderer who seems almost Ramsay-esque in his demeanour. And Alys seems more power hungry and eventually took over Harrenhal as its witch queen. But the fact they have what Alys claims to be their trueborn child and true king of Westeros does strongly suggest Rhaegar and Lyanna did eventually marry and Jon is their trueborn son, not a bastard.

I hoped I would be done by now, but there is still even more parallels. Cregan Stark and Eddard Stark are parallels and foils. Ned becomes Hand of the King and travels south to uncover who poisoned the previous Hand of the King, before the War of the Five Kings starts. Meanwhile, Cregan travels south and arrives at King's Landing after the Dance was over, then becomes Hand of the King to uncover who poisoned the previous king (Aegon II). However, while Ned was cautious and not really a big player of the game of thrones, Cregan was ambitious and knew what he was doing, even if his actions weren't always the best (attacking Storm's End, Oldtown, and Casterly Rock after the war was essentially over? Not a good idea, Stark).

The Regency of Aegon III in and of itself is a metacommentary to the writing process of ASOIAF. Originally, after GRRM finished ASOS, he decided to do a 5-year gap between that and what was to be ADWD. However, that ended up not working out, so he scrapped it all together. During that time, Tommen would've remained king, and his reign would be under a regency. So thus, Aegon III having a 5-year regency (from 131 to 136 AC) during that time alludes to that.

And then you get to Unwin Peake, my least favourite character in Fire and Blood. He appears to be a combination of Mace Tyrell and Randyll Tarly. Personality wise, he is very much like Randyll. He is a very outspoken misogynist, a very proud man, and a noted warrior wielding a Valyrian steel blade (that he likely stole from Tumbleton since Orphan-Maker was from House Roxton originally). He also changed out Aegon III's master-at-arms to be Gareth Long, who was a very harsh taskmaster, who routinely engaged in abusive tactics with the boys he trained when they didn't meet his expectations, including days without sleep, doused in tubs of ice water, being beat, and having their heads shaved, which is very reminiscent of Randyll's abuse of Sam as a child.

Unwin and Randyll also dealt with lawful punishment in very harsh ways, as seen by Randyll's treatment of those who break the law at Maidenpool, and Unwin's clearing the Red Keep cells during the Feast of Our Father Above. However, Unwin has a lot of similarities with Mace Tyrell as well. Mace is on the small council, and has routinely tried to engage in nepotism by implanting allies and family members of his into positions at the council and at King's Landing, including marrying Margaery to the king, becoming Hand of the King, having Paxter Redwyne be the lord admiral and Randyll Tarly the lord justiciar, try to bring his uncle Garth to become the new master of coin, and Garth's bastard sons to join the gold cloaks, not to mention the Conclave nearly sending his uncle Gormon to become the new Grand Maester (something Mace will surely approve of), Mace having his son Loras join the Kingsguard, and even try to betroth his heir Willas to Myrcella.

Meanwhile, Unwin engaged in much more rampant and unchecked nepotism. He was Hand of the King and Lord Regent, had Ser Gareth as master-at-arms at the Red Keep, since he was master-at-arms at Starpike, while his widowed aunt Clarice Osgrey was put in charge of Queen Jaehaera's household, Lord George Graceford (a member of the Caltrops that Peake himself was involved in) was appointed as the Lord Confessor, and Ser Victor Risley, the other surviving member of the Caltrops, was appointed to the position of the King's Justice.

He even dismissed Septon Eustace and replaced him with Septon Bernard, another relative of his. He also had his nephew Amaury and his bastard half-brother Ser Mervyn Flowers put onto the Kingsguard, while his uncle Gedmund was made the master of ships. Not to mention his attempted marriage between his daughter Myrielle and Aegon III. So basically the Peakes are the Tyrells of their day, trying to take control of the Seven Kingdoms and the Iron Throne.

And that is all that I can remember! I'm sure there is a lot more, but it's striking to see just how many parallels there are between the Dance and ASOIAF itself.

[hereticalmother]

✝ PARALLELS BETWEEN VAL AND BLAKE ✝

[personals can reblog! This is general game analysis and not RP specific.]

Outlast 2 makes it very clear that there are parallels between Blake's past abuser, Father Loutermilch, and his current abuser, Val. But, what I find more interesting are the parallels between Blake himself and Val. 

She's symbolic of Blake's past trauma, but not only of Loutermilch; she's simultaneously Loutermilch, Blake himself, and Blake's guilt and self loathing as a result of his abuse. She's symbolic of every person involved and of the emotions Blake felt both at the time and now looking back on it. 

I think a large part of what makes her such an effective antagonist to Blake is how much she mirrors him. Val is what Blake could've turned into, and what Loutermilch tried to convince him that he was. 

[continued under the cut]

✝ BLAKE AND VAL'S HISTORY ✝

Blake and Val are both very driven by their past trauma, which, in both cases, stems from being groomed by religious leaders. 

Blake saw his teacher, Father Loutermilch, murder his childhood best friend, Jessica, after months (if not years) of sexual abuse. Val was ordered by the leader of the cult she had been raised in to murder her adopted children. 

I think it's easy for people to say that Blake witnessed a murder while Val committed a murder, but Val's situation isn't so black and white. Val does a lot of bad things that are absolutely her own choice, but I don't think the deaths of her children can be included. She truly had no other choice. She was forced. Her life was at stake, as were the lives of her other children.

She could kill them quickly and as painlessly as she could, continue taking care of her living children despite the fear that she may be ordered to kill them next, or refuse. Refusal would mean someone else would kill them, not quickly, not painlessly, and that she would no longer be around to care for the others (who may be killed prematurely as a result of that, or even killed just to punish her.) There was no option that could save their lives. 

In both cases, their trauma revolved around the death of a child/loved one at the hands of a religious leader that they had always been taught to trust. Following the deaths, they were made to believe that they were responsible for these deaths and that they were perverse, sinful, people for their involvement. 

✝ DIFFERENCES ✝

This brings us to the differences in their situations. Blake was a child, and knew only to trust teachers. He had options, to tell his parents, to tell the police, but was made to believe that he didn't; that no one would believe him, that, if anyone found out, he would get in trouble rather than Loutermilch.

Val was an adult (for the worst of her trauma; though, arguably, her upbringing was traumatic as well.) But, she was also led to believe that there was no one she could turn to and that she wasn't allowed to speak out against Papa Knoth. That if she did, she would be the one in trouble, not him. However, born and raised within a cult, it was true. There was no law enforcement, no government, no one in charge of her but Knoth and no one with the authority to punish him for his crimes or to protect her.

Blake and Val were both left to feel completely powerless and alone and at the mercy of the authority figures abusing them, and were set up to take the blame for what these authority figures had done.

✝ SHAME ✝

Additionally, Loutermilch’s dialogue towards Blake, such as “did I interrupt something between you two?” and the tone that he says it in, implies that there’s something sexual going on between Blake and Jessica (though there isn’t, and Loutermilch knows that there isn’t.) He tries to confuse Blake into thinking that Blake is doing something perverse and wrong, even before the murder. He tries to convince Blake that, if Blake were to tell anyone the whole story, Blake would end up sounding like the pervert. 

This is where Val, again, embodies Blake's fears for himself. She is sexually motivated and sexually aggressive. She doesn't prey on children the way Loutermilch did, but she doesn't need to; what's important to her character is that she preys on men like Blake. She is shameless and selfish in her wants. Blake, after years of Catholic school and guilt, struggles to tell the difference; Is any sexual urge perverse and shameful? Is he a bad person for them? Val is certainly a bad person for hers, and where does the line lie? 

He knows he isn't as bad as Val, but how far away is he? How many mistakes can he make before they're identical? Covering up the murder of a child for his own selfish (in his own opinion) reasons is a pretty big mistake to start with; he has a head start on the path to being a terrible person. Val, coupled with the flashbacks from the towers, gives him too much to think about, too much self doubt.

✝ DIVERGING PATHS ✝

But, while there's similarities between the two of them, the differences are what separate them into protagonist and antagonist. They had similar trauma, but opposite reactions to the trauma. They both felt overwhelming guilt and shame, both from the situation itself and from the things told to them by authority figures, but they both chose to respond to that shame in different ways. 

Blake feels as though he has to prove people wrong; he has to prove that it wasn’t his fault, that he isn’t a bad person, but deep down he doesn’t believe it. He’s on edge that he’s going to slip up and everyone is going to know what kind of person he really is. Especially during the events of Outlast 2, Blake feels as though if he can save others (Anna Lee, Lynn, their child,) that it will make up for his inability to save Jessica. He has hope that he can still be a good person and a hero.

But, suffering comes along with this optimism. He isn’t content, isn’t happy in the moment; he’s looking towards an unachievable future in which he can undo what’s been done. He isn’t happy with himself or his surroundings and won’t be until that future goal is reached. He feels as though he’s missing a piece of himself due to his trauma and he’s forever searching for it.

Val, meanwhile, feels as though she’s too far gone. There isn’t a way of proving people wrong or a point in doing so. When any little misstep means you’re irredeemable and betraying god himself, what chance of forgiveness is there for the things that she’s done? She believes that nothing she does could be worse than what she’s already done, so what’s the point in trying? Plus, the messages of what is good and what is evil has been so warped for her. People she’s trusted have told her that god wants her to do evil things, that she’s evil for not doing them. She has no one who’s moral guidance she can trust and no one who will judge her through an unbiased lens. 

With being in a lose/lose situation comes freedom. Val is happy with her life because Val does the things she wants to do; no shame, no judgement, no guilt. Other people’s opinions of her have been so conflicting and so harsh that they’ve become meaningless. She knows other people won’t ever approve of her or her actions, and so she lives only for herself. 

✝ HELPING BLAKE ✝

At the end of the day, this is what Val preaches. More importantly, she sees the similarities between Blake, in game, and herself, years previous. She remembers feeling ashamed and searching for the right answers. She’s found that the right answer is to accept that there is no right answer. That acting on impulse, acting on what makes you feel good, brings so much more joy than stressing over what’s morally right or what other people want you to do. 

She sees Blake suffering in such a familiar way and she knows how she saved herself; she knows she can save him, too, if she can open his eyes to the truth. Though Val’s actions towards Blake are horrendous, they’re merciful from Val’s perspective. She wants him to see what she sees. She wants him to push past the wall of his trauma and come out the other side stronger for it, as she did. She wants him to just give in to his urges, without any concern to what’s proper or acceptable in the eyes of god. She believes that if he tries, just once, to act without guilt and shame holding him back, he’ll get addicted to the freedom the way she has. 

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Hello! I want to start by saying that I’m totally in love your BSD works. If it’s alright, I wanted to make a request~ I’d love to see a Kunikida x Reader (preferably she/her) angst fic 💔 with the prompt “Please... please don’t look at me with such hatred, I’m begging you.” (coming from the reader)

It might be something related to a case they work on that contains a controversial topic and the reader turns out to be morally grey about it, creating a contrast with Kunikida’s snow white, ideal morals and maybe triggering his past traumas. Or anything else that you think would create a beautiful angst with Kunikida, this was just an example! The ending is also up to you, you might just finish it in a dark, angsty mood or shift to fluff/comfort; I’d probably prefer the second ending but if you don’t feel like it, I’m alright with anything!

Oooo I don't get requests for Kunikida much, so this one made me super excited to write! I hope it lives up to your expectations. 

The gray between right and wrong |Kunikida x Female Reader|

Prompt|“Please... please don’t look at me with such hatred, I’m begging you.”|

Warnings| mentions of implied abuse ( the case being worked on)

Notes- there are she/her pronouns used. (third-person for a few paragraphs)

Words- 2163

~

Beneath what appears is always an underlying layer of difference. Between the right and the wrong, there is always a between. Separating black from white lay a thin sheet of gray. With every decision, there is indecision. No mortal can exempt themselves from these concepts. To be morally white is to ignore being human. To be perfect is to ignore your imperfections. Even those with the strongest of morals have moments of doubt and indecision. There is always the what if I was wrong. While a person's morals appear crystal clear and white to them, to another, to society, their morals may not be as clear as they say. While one may say that theft is gray, one may also argue theft is black. It can be gray because theft may lead to survival. While the counter-argument says it is black, as it takes what could have helped earn somebody a living without giving in return. As long as the person believes they are right, their morals can be completely white. Such a person does exist, a person who sees it all, every right and wrong choice, every counter and rebuttal, they do exist within the mundane world. Such people turn to their ideals as a way of living life. Such was the case with the agency’s Doppo Kunikida. A man whose life was completely planned out, a man who lived his day on a schedule created for his specific needs. His every movement a routine planned out without a second of hesitation. There was another within that agency who found her morals to be pure and untainted. To him, she was the ideal woman, level-headed and strong on her own. Somebody he could rely on, without worrying his schedule would suffer.

The case the two were working on was fairly simple, but involved complicated matters. Drama among the home was always complicated. While upfront one would say the situation was dreadfully obvious, another could notice something missing. These situations, especially involving abilities, can become a tangle of lies, deception, and cunning twists. This was one of the few cases one could rely on their moral sense of justice. These situations were the trickiest, lying within morally gray areas of different sizes and classifications. He looked at her walking while jotting small notes and thinking to herself. He wondered what was on her mind as they went on their way to investigate the crime. “Is there something bothering you?” he asked before looking down at his watch, it was alright to slow their pace. Arriving too early would disturb the latter of their day. Judging by their location and the remaining distance, they could half their current pace and still be thirty seconds early. Best not to risk it considering traffic and unforeseen issues could arise at any given moment. Slowing down just enough to talk would not hurt though, even if they came into a disturbance, they would be there on time.

Looking at him with e/c eyes, you shrugged. Closing your notebook and pocketing the pen you had been holding. If there was something on your mind, it would be the confusing state of this case. On one hand, there was black, murder, and on another hand, there was something else. It wasn’t white or gray, but closer to a blackening gray. Murder was wrong, no matter what, at least that was how Kunikida, your partner, would view it. To him, there was no doubt in his mind that this case was going to end in the pursuer being sent to jail, tried for the sin they committed. 

Then why, why was it that you found yourself morally gray with this case? You had never been so unsure of an answer before. An accidental murder, an act of defense, an act of pure hatred. Did these concepts change the black to gray? Murder stayed indifferent, it stayed wrong, but could it be justified? Surely Kunikida would agree that at times certain morals had to be bent, laws had to be made to accustom these morals. So you answered him honestly, for lying in itself was never the right decision, even in the event to spare another's feelings, you were honest and down to earth with your approach. “The case is bothering me, that’s all.” It was not a half-truth, simply not the full reason. He never asked why, just as you never pressured to why he had so many ideals written out in that notebook of his.

Stepping inside the warehouse where the case had originally started, one of the family members stood waiting. After your kind introduction, the woman, in her late twenties, answered little of what pressed on your mind. Though she did make one small flutter of anxiety run rampant over your heart. Like a stampede of gazelle rushing to escape a predator, your heart pounded under the force. While she covered her words with unsure and terrified stillness, her hands had trembled and her words contradicted with the smallest of minuscule details. It reminded you of a memory you had. So the question softly fell in the silence. Your words pin against the stone; an unpleasant ding to stir up the room. So morally confident that an accidental death inflicted by self-defense as an ability activated unconsciously for the first time was unpunishable. Sometimes, bad people get karma in unimaginable ways. The fault falls on the cruel ways of that person. “You're the wife, so you should be able to answer with honesty. Was he kind to you and your daughters? Did this man ever hurt them?” with a horror-stricken face, the woman leaped from the box she had fallen onto earlier. Her face contorted in rage and shock. For a moment, a fading bruise showed itself on her wrist.

With a confident stare, you met her quivering eyes. The smallest tear pooling out of the corner. With such tender lips, the woman looked to the blonde you cared so much for. When her eyes settle back onto yours, she held nothing but regret. “He would have killed her, my baby girl.” She whispered such words softly, and you nodded. Walking her out with shaking hands, you smiled. “Your child did nothing wrong. The fault lays within the attacker.” Was it those words that triggered the beloved blond? So focused on comforting the mother you had forgotten you had him with you. So overly confident in your decision, you did not realize how morally gray that sentence had been. No human, no matter how evil deserves death's punishment. For most that punishment is nothing but freedom from hell. That was something you had learned from another co-worker. The suicidal maniac had a thing for death and would say the harshest yet most delicate sentences that stuck with you.

Kunikida stared in shock, never had he imagined she’d speak such words. Somebody who had fit all his ideals, somebody whom he had connected with, was justifying the slaughter of a man. It didn’t matter whether this man had hurt others, you locked a criminal up, you did not murder them. Murder, no matter the reason was murder, there was no right or wrong when it came to murder. As he listened to those words, a memory peaked inside his head. There were reasons he believed in what he did. Criminals have families, mothers, and fathers. If you kill a murderer, then the amount of killers does not decrease. The world would never be peaceful if all justice did was kill. An even punishment was required for the crime. His eyes couldn’t leave you, even as they narrowed and his brows dipped. His head shook in both shock and resentment.

Your heart nearly dropped from its cage. The look on his face was never a look you had thought you would find pointed at yourself. You knew you were right about this. Though your mind knew the decision; the thought you had come to was wrong. That it wasn't morally right, but it wasn’t wrong either. In fact, it was that heavy gray spot so many people trapped themselves within. You denied it though, saying your decision was not gray, but white. The longer you stare, the more an image is painted into your head. A loved one looking at you with such hatred, even you loathe yourself. It had been Kunikida who pulled you from that spot and showed you the light of the world. He had been the one your morals aligned to. It went silent, like the moment just before the tsunami’s wave came crashing down. When the torment of peace faltered, your hands came up to your chest and your eyes fell silently shut. Shaking your head with a striking, stabbing feeling in your gut words parted through your lips. A muffled scream, a plea to not he was not so harsh with you. “Please... please don’t look at me with such hatred, I’m begging you.” those words seemed not to reach him at first. His voice lashing out as if your words had been the lightning to this storm.

Though his voice is not loud, his words stuck with a heavy weight. “How could you say something like that?” he hissed through confusion and disappointment. Though his anger was no longer purely directed at her. The memory stirred within his mind, pulling the feelings he had about this topic to rise. “No matter how you look at it, nobody deserves to be slaughtered. A loved one always ends up feeling the fault, blaming themselves and hurting.” There would never be an exception. Even the most hated, dangerous, and cruel criminals had people mourn their death. Yet, he could not look past that to see the suffering he was causing the woman who stuck by him.

The louder his words became, the more they echoed and tore at your heart. With every passing second, you became less sure of your morals. Unsure if what you believed was truly above the others. Were you destined to be alone and isolated forever, to morally set for others to care, but not enough for him? Your voice repeated the same line again, this time your eyes leaked water. Rain was adding itself to the storm. “Please... please don’t look at me with such hatred, I’m begging you.” The words escaped your lips again as the thunder sounding about stopped abruptly. The only sound came from the rain; your soft tears. The smallest hiccup of your voice, as you tried to explain your reasoning, to explain the memory that drove you to think in such ways. To explain the view of such a thing from a female's perspective. Sometimes violence was the only thing to keep yourself alive and safe. In extreme situations, accidentally killing somebody happened. Bashing one over the head to keep them from harming you was the easiest way. Sometimes, those actions went too hard, and instead of simply knocking them out, they bled to death from the inside out. So why, why did he have to look at you the way they always did? It wasn’t fair, being a woman in an abilities world. These accidental deaths happen more frequently, men and even at times other women who seem to think they can get away with things, become victims to an ability reacting on its own, something appearing for the first time.

Kunikida glanced at the time with conflicted thoughts. His mind trying to settle on what he should do. For as much as he hated pushing things back, he knew he had hurt you. He’d never meant to lash out like that, especially not against you. Everybody had reasons for believing what they did, surely you did as well. Watching your shaking form, his arms grabbed onto you and pulled your head to his chest. The waves fell to a calm, a single drop of water plummeting before they were no more. Shock taking over your body as he embraced your shaken form. He whispered a word he did not often use in his large vocabulary. For you, he could set aside pride and show you a softer, caring side. “I apologize for… lashing out like that.” He found it so difficult, apologizing despite the difference in your opinions regarding this matter. He owned you a celebration for solving the case, but he’d brought you to despair instead. Deep down guilt flooded him, and he held you closer until the sniffling of your nose had stopped, and your shaking had come to a close. With a light smile, you reached to his cheek.

“It’s alright…” you whispered watching as the blonde pulled away and lightly patted your back, before looking down at his notebook and schedule the rest of his day.

"Great because I planned a small relaxation for later," he grumbled, with a slight red to his cheeks. This was out of the ordinary, but he'd been free enough to add it.

[agape-philo-sophia]

➝ Deocculting 911, Occult Numerology & Gematria, SpiritualWarfare. ⏰

The spiritual supporting pillars of the world’s societal structure were essentially demolished on 9/11…symbolically, allegorically, ritualistically and literally. It was quite a sinister “stroke of genius” and so exemplifies how these dark controllers operate. This is why the wake up to 9/11 Truth is so shocking to people’s systems and they just can’t handle it. It’s overwhelming, which it was designed to be. And so the vast populace rolls over and buries its head back in the sand... Tell A Big Enough Lie …and you’ll eventually get exposed. So full of lies are these controllers it’s beyond the grasp of normal sentient beings. And they revel in the power of that. It’s amazing they can be so brash yet hidden in plain sight. The Twin Pillars Archetype, The effect of occult (hidden) symbolism on the human psyche is a nicely kept secret. Even though psychologists such as Carl Jung have written extensively on this and it’s clearly pointed out by the esoteric community. People just do not realize they are daily the subject of the sophisticated manipulation of these terribly powerful symbols. Like scientific breakthroughs are garnered by the military, these elite psychopaths have to weaponize everything, instead of using it for the betterment of humanity and our world. “Signs and symbols rule the world, not words nor laws” – Confucius There’s much more to this subject. And it wasn’t just Freemasons involved in all this, but they’re a major arm that encapsulates a belief system much of the Illuminati share. Members of this dark cabal are almost always associated with some sort of secret society or practice like Freemasonry or witchcraft, often under a religious cover like the Vatican, Mormonism or Evangelical groups. Rothschild Zionists use both the religious cover and the financial “institution” to disguise and justify their perfidy. At the occult level the 9/11 event was a ritual, empowered, as is often the case, by performing human sacrifice. War is another such ritual, usually instigated and financed by this same dark cabal loosely labelled the Illuminati. I can’t begin to cover the extent of the symbology and esoteric meaning injected into the 9/11 charade, but I hope this opens up a few things for you to look into further. These same tactics are used constantly on an unwary public at many levels. The lie is exposed, the spell is broken and the illusion loses its power over you. But the secret weapon of 9/11 was this: it was riding high on the amplified occult, symbolic preparation of not just decades, seeing the “twin towers” as a symbol of world commerce and the “triumph of the human spirit”, but seeing “twin pillars of society” throughout architecture and logos and literature for millenia, both conscious and subconscious, being destroyed before their eyes, over and over and over. In Revelation 9:11, and please note the time code as well as the number code of 911, Abbadon is described as the Destroyer, the Angel of the Abyss, the King of Plague of Locusts, resembling horses with crowned human faces, women’s hair, lion’s teeth, wings, iron breastplates, and a tail with a scorpion’s stinger, that torments for five months anyone who does not have the Seal of God on his forehead. It is clear that this is a Demon, Fallen God or Black Star, that is directly connected to powering up the Armageddon Software through the Yahweh Matrix. The Black Star Abbadon in the center of the Milky Way is what holds together the 666 Beast Configuration, along with the Yahweh Matrix that creates the Inorganic Four, the Yod-Hay-Vod-Hay system. This system feeds off of living creatures and sends the life force back to the black hole entities. As we have been discussing the shift that has been occurring with the Planetary Staff, the Planetary Staff of earth was tilted in order to align it to the Black Star Abbadon in the center of the Milky Way. This artificial axial tilt in the planet is shifting its alignment now. This shift has activated doomsday prophets wired into the Yahweh matrix that believe the current events are the sign of the alien God’s narrative, that the rapture is coming or that we are entering into the global Armageddon-Megiddo showdown, when we transition out of the final stages of the Piscean Alchemical Law. The current theme during the Paliadorian Activations is the clearing of the Yahweh Matrix and its blood covenant bindings out of the Human 12 Tribes genetic records, with the transmissions and support of the Blue Feathers of Aquaferion. As a result of dismantling this blood covenant network, those who are controlled by the Yahweh system will be agitated and activated to play out these mind controlled biblical dramas. Because the original 5D Ascension plan was not achievable becasue of the False Ascension Matrix and the damage caused through the False Navel and False White Webbing, it required our evolution through the time fields in the Harmonic Universes in the Universal Time Matrix to be drastically sped up. Those serving the Law of One, are moving through extreme amounts of the future timelines, observing its collapse, in order to arrive at the Gateway Octave where the Organic and eternal light is overriding the Artificial Machinery and replicated alien coding. False Timelines and False Software to Mind Control humanity was used to deter humans from their organic and natural ascension evolution. This is why this planet is called, “prison planet”. Meanwhile the negatives desperately cling on to the artificial timeline programs to influence humans through fear to manifest into their enslaved future selves as Negative Form. (Some examples: Nostradamus Prophecy, Armageddon Software, Pestilence Programming, 911 Military Industrial Complex Revolution, any terrorist and cataclysmic inorganic event generated by the Negative Aliens. None of these manipulated programs are sourced as “natural events”. ) Because the planet is ready to drop and collapse timelines from the previous 3D cycle where the planet is playing out the result of the Luciferian Rebellion from Atlantean time cycle, there is a struggle to dominate upcoming events that would influence these future timelines to be solely in Negative Alien or the NAA control. These groups have infighting, and the two primary groups have infected their headquartered control mechanism in two major stargates and power vortexes on the planet. Black Sun Program have headquartered themselves in the 10th Stargate or Iran Gate of the Golden Eagle Grid and lodged their technologies in Iraq/Iran to gain dominance over the power spots in Giza, Egypt. Most of them are Reptile Insectoid Collectives from out of the Phantom Matrix spaces in the parallel systems, which formed alliances with the Fallen Angelic Annunaki Groups to take control over the earth, which are referred to as the NAA. This is why they chose that area of the planet to dominate, it was easier to invade from the genetic key level. The Sons of Belial, the Nibiruian-Annunaki reptilians of the New World Order crews that engineered the 911 Timeline Agendas, have headquartered themselves in the 11th Stargate area in the United Kingdom, this is also known as Stonehenge. These are the creators of the teeth chomping technology of the Nephilim Reversal Grid (NRG). Comprising primarily of Fallen Elohim genetic lines, this reversal network was a rebellion to the hybridization attempts of Lyran-Elohim races, who were responsible in commissioning Nephilim races for genetic hybridization healing. The failure of that program, the banishment of Nephilim (The Giants) and killing of that race, resulted in Wars, and subsequently, the NRG was placed in the UK to reverse all hybridized genetics, especially any genetic material (like the Krystal DNA Silicate Matrix) that was designed to “unify” or “marry” genetics. The unification of polarity within genetics may evolve to Unity Field consciousness which is a part of achieving the Christos consciousness. There is a consciousness war to stop Krystal Star consciousness from potentially evolving and embodying in human beings on this earth. It also is clear that all matters of Blood Sacrifice, whether human, animal or of any living thing, are made to the conjuring of elemental forces that directly connect into this collective Satanic force of the Baphomet field in the underworld realms. Satanists, witches, Santeria, voodoo, violent religion or other related rituals involving drugs or killing, one is allowing their body to be possessed by lower spirits and are being controlled, addicted or feeding into the spreading of this Satanic force field. It is like an viral infection. The act of feeding this force through ritual offering and Blood Sacrifice is purposed to produce Satanic humans running the earth and to keep enslaved the female Christos-Sophia from reclaiming her body parts and creations in the earth. This is enslavement of the Mother principle. Satanism effectively is the worship of earthly forces through patriarchal domination and their False Father earthly conjured gods for selfish material gain. The world of forces can be ritualized through offerings, Blood Sacrifice SRA and its intentions made manifest through superimposing forces or binding others energies without their consent or free will in physical matter. Apparently, it is believed when the luciferian ritualist opens the portal of Daath, the heart complex and physical heart chambers are filled with life force, which supposedly grows a soul from those sacrificed and harvested, on behalf of those who are soul-less. For those of us aware that the Sons of Belial are behind the New World Order and the 911 Timelines, it becomes clearer that humanity was held captive at a global scale, to witness the sophisticated orchestration of an Adam Belial Luciferian ritual that destroyed the Twin Towers and killed many innocent people for the purpose of Blood Sacrifice for the soul-less. The Belial Program described is one faction of the NAA attempting to force the planet to serve the multiple invading species agenda, through imposing artificially replicated time fields, inverting the system and generating a false reality based upon masterful lies, deceptions and illusions. The NAA effectively declared an edict of war against the Christos Founders, and all of the Maji Grail King lines, Indigos, as well as the earth population on September 12, 2000. Exactly one year later they staged an Adam Belial ritual in order to institute a public ceremony announcing their New World Order plan with the culmination of the tragic events of September 11, 2001 in New York City. The destruction of the Twin Towers and Blood Sacrifice of those killed at the World Trade Center, was intended to be the line drawn in the sand to show the NAA were proceeding with their full domination and slavery agenda of humanity and earth. This event brought forward what became known as the 911 Timelines, the institution of the false reality timelines in order take the planet into AI Assimilation Timeline which is the Fallen AI Timeline Loops that the NAA fully control from within the Phantom Matrix. The day of the attack: 11 The Date of the Attack, September 11 or 9/11 = 9 + 1 + 1 = 11 911 is emergency number = 9 + 1 + 1 = 11 September 11th is the 254th day of the year: 2 + 5 + 4 = 11 After September 11th we have 111 remaining for the end of the year. 119 is the Area Code for Iran & Iraq 1 + 1+ 9 = 11 The first plane to hit one of the buildings was Flight 11 The State of New York was the 11th State to join the Union New York City = 11 letters Afghanistan = 11 letters The Pentagon = 11 letters Flight 11 had 92 passengers, 9 + 2 = 11 Flight 77 had 65 passengers, 6 + 5 = 11 Twin Towers look like an 11 Twin Towers had 110 floors George H.W. Bush’s famous New World Order speech to congress was on 9/11/1990. Exactly 11 years before the attacks. In that speech, Bush encodes another 9-11. “Out of these troubled times, our fifth objective, a New World Order” → 5. “An era in which the nations of the world: east and west, north and south…” → 4. 5+4=9. “100 generations have searched for this elusive path to peace, while 1000 wars waged across the span of human endeavor” →100+1000 = 1100 → 11 Through gematria we see the first plane, American Airlines Flight 11, actually encodes two 11s. A=1, so AA-11 = 11-11. This also hearkens to the spiritual organization founded by Aleister Crowley known as A∴A∴ The North Tower (WTC1) was impacted at 8:46:40 and collapsed at 10:28:22. An interval of ~101 minutes. The South Tower (WTC2) was impacted at 9:03:00 and collapsed at 9:59:00. An interval of 56 minutes, 5+6=11. (Yes, those times times are exactly at the minute marks. 9:03:00 is the impact time given in the 9/11 Commission Report. However, NIST established this time as 9:02:59… Shucks, only one second off.) September 11th was the 254th day of the year. 2+5+4=11 Thus, there were 111 days left in the year. September 11th in the Gregorian calendar is New Year’s Day in the Coptic calendar, the calendar originating in Egypt, traditionally the source of all the Hermetic traditions. Quran (9:11) - "For it is written that a son of Arabia would awaken a fearsome Eagle. The wrath of the Eagle would be felt throughout the lands of Allah and lo, while some of the people trembled in despair still more rejoiced; for the wrath of the Eagle cleansed the lands of Allah; and there was peace". (Note the verse number!)

[lore-of-the-silvereyes-rwby]

Ironwood Summary

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Death

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

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

Redemption Arc

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A New Enemy

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

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

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

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

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

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

Full Cyber

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

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

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

Role in the narrative & what we can learn from Ironwood

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

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

Ozpin

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

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

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

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

Ruby Rose

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Salem

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had no idea of what he was doing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Atlas Meta Narrative’s influence on Ironwood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Essence of Being

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

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

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

Why was I born in Atlas?

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

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

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

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

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

Will anyone care when I’m gone?

Why won’t anyone give me a chance?

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

Does any of this matter in the end?

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

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

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

My Thoughts and conclusion

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

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

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

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

Character comparisons from fiction

Character comparisons IRL

How you can fight & Kill Ironwood

A more indepth look of his new cybernetics

What Ironwood should have done

His relationship with other characters

The possibility of an Ironwood spin-off

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

[viridiave]

NARUMITSU <ATTEMPTING TO READ THE SUBTEXT PLATONICALLY>

*Wrote all this some time last month so I might be off- really really off- also full disclosure I too am a Narumitsu shipper- this is just me giving myself a bad time doing the impossible and having fun XD

-I am going to fail sooner or later. Looking at you, Bridge to the Turnabout.

FIRST GAME >Turnabout Samurai -Yep. We're jumping right in with 'unnecessary feelings'. I'm going to be put on a stake for this. -This is going to become the main argument with any and all homoerotic subtext present in the first game- that it was unintentional. They didn't actively start making it gay until the second game, and even before then the producer for the games had to warn the development team not to try and insert these themes for fear of getting it wrong and lose the fanbase they'd accidentally caught the eye of. I can still create arguments for why this specific, hilariously meme-able line could be read romantically of course- but as far as the game development team at the time was concerned this interaction was never meant to be read as romantic. -Unease and uncertainty are... very valid feelings for Edgeworth to feel at this very moment and as much as I'd like to joke that he was feeling uncertain about his sexuality after seeing his childhood friend as an adult, this line was really just likely meant to lead up to the conclusion of Turnabout Goodbyes and Edgeworth's character arc for this game. His perfect win streak had just been shattered in a case prior. In this case, he was meant to persecute the lead actor of his favorite show- and in some ways his helping the defense can be taken as his biases getting the better of him. His sense of justice and his entire worldview is about to be overhauled, and I can see how he would regard this budding doubt in himself as an unnecessary (heh) distraction from what he believes is his true purpose in life.

>Turnabout Goodbyes -Edgeworth wanting to keep him away from DL-6 has its own section mostly because of how stubborn he becomes when it comes to Phoenix's insistence in particular. It's clear that this stubbornness is a front, I will concede with that- but there are merits to his initial reluctance in accepting Phoenix's defense. It's evident that Phoenix himself has grown over the course of the game so far, but in both of the times that he faced off against Edgeworth in court, his victories were... a tad bit contrived. For instance in Turnabout Sisters, Phoenix really only wins because Mia was being channeled and blackmailed White as he was about to leave the stand. Turnabout Samurai is a little better- but had him rely on quite a lot of coincidences (proven later to be substantiated) that surfaced during the trial. This is nothing to say of the deeper reason Edgeworth has over dissuading Phoenix from taking his case ("You in particular I cannot ask to do this.")- where I can make an argument for his pride and/or concern over Phoenix's career as an attorney. The stakes are relatively high here as well- if Phoenix fails, Edgeworth is incarcerated, Manfred von Karma goes free, DL-6 goes cold once again with no hope of getting re-opened, and everything that Phoenix has been working towards as an attorney would have been in vain. DL-6 is a case that has ruined many lives- it'd make sense if Edgeworth himself felt as though it would be a waste of time and effort to take this case because of how convinced he was of murdering his own father prior to Gourd Lake. He'd grown up for the past 15 years with a nightmare and a death sentence over his head- I wouldn't be surprised if he simply gave up and accepted that he was going to die at the hands of his prosecuting mentor. Even if he were acquitted for the murder of Robert Hammond, his perceived involvement in DL-6 would have thrown a wrench in his freedom- any lesser attorney would have given up on that. And this is unloaded BEFORE Phoenix tells him about the true reason as to why he became an attorney. -Phoenix's insistence to defend Edgeworth in this case can easily just be read as platonic- his complete, unfettered faith in Edgeworth's innocence is heavily influenced by that class trial, for better or for worse. While I'm perfectly happy to imagine that Phoenix's attachment to his idealized version of Edgeworth grew into something deeper sometime in the fifteen years that he hasn't seen him, I do believe that Phoenix in particular really is just that much of a sentimental person. This is to say nothing of his nature as a defense attorney- and what little time he's managed to spend with Mia has taught him that unbridled trust in his client is what gets him through the day, and he's putting it to practice here. Edgeworth was what he has been working towards the moment he decided he would practice law- as Phoenix at this point in time still believes that he could do no wrong despite seeing what Edgeworth is truly like in court. -Cutting into the meat of Phoenix and Edgeworth's shared past, I made a point earlier to say that Phoenix's perception of Edgeworth as a person is idealized. Every memory that Phoenix has had of Edgeworth prior to the events of the first game were from their childhood- and they had 4-8 months (plus one year if we're generous with the retconning some of the official art gave us) MAX to develop a friendship so strong that Phoenix makes major life decisions just to meet with this man. The fact that this time spent together was ENOUGH for Phoenix in the first place is... really hard to skirt around. To quote Dan from GameGrumps "this is something that you would only do for someone you're trying to marry" and if one of them was a woman I guarantee this ship would be canon already. But then again- since this is Phoenix Wright in particular somehow I can believe that he really is just that sentimental- and that isn't always a bad thing. He'd managed to save Edgeworth twice with this conviction after all. When Phoenix sees Edgeworth, he doesn't see a demon prosecutor, he sees his childhood friend who aimed to become a shining example of justice following in his father's footsteps. They address how shaky his foundations for becoming an attorney were in the Phoenix Wright Files once actually- going through a mini-existential crisis because he'd become an attorney with the main goal of saving Edgeworth from what he'd become, and now that he's accomplished that he's just kind of... lost. Edgeworth himself manages to pull him out of this, though. -man that hurts my case a lot actually but to be fair I was banking on failing -I just didn't expect it to happen so early even with the first game -in fact ESPECIALLY with the first game -though I cannot for the life of me wonder how I can come up with a heterosexual explanation for why the buildup towards Edgeworth telling Phoenix and Maya about his nightmares reads so much like a stunted love confession. I'm serious- just read any high school shojo manga ever. You'll find that it hits a lot of the same beats.

>Rise From The Ashes -It's in this case that we observe some of the consequences that the intial upheaval of Edgeworth's worldview in Turnabout Goodbyes causes him; distrust in the enforcement of the law. Not exactly the time for him to be dabbling in another, meme-able brand of unnecessary feelings. Several things like the Prosecutor's Office's relationship with the Police Department starts to waver with the murder of Bruce Goodman, and this becomes the final nail in the coffin for Edgeworth's worldviews and values as a prosecutor. His and Phoenix's teamwork in this trial becomes prevalent- the story behind the King of Prosecutors award represents this best despite it's currently incomplete state. The backstory behind this award paints an ideal of justice in the courtroom wherein the truth comes out as a result of the efforts of contradictory forces. A broken halberd that can cut through any shield (the prosecution) and a broken, unbreakable shield (the defense). Read as representation the text becomes something of a metaphor for the ideal justice that manifests itself in the best parts of Edgeworth and Phoenix respectively- the duality of their opposing professions rather than something that is limited to their relationship. -The same argument that I've used for Phoenix's unwavering belief in Edgeworth's innocence in Turnabout Goodbyes can be used for this case as well. -Though Edgeworth still goes M.I.A for a year after this case, it does grant his disappearance a bit more context as to why exactly it is that he left- and I'll be taking a tiny liberty with this and apply the interpretation that the Miles Edgeworth Files grants us, and that he left in order to better himself and grow as a person, a prosecutor, and as a friend to Phoenix Wright. It's... difficult for me to want to read this as anything but romantically-charged because the narrative beats are NOT lost on me (the dialogue makes this especially hard. send help.)- there's a possibility that Edgeworth at this point in time realizes the value in having a better, more functional dynamic with the one defense attorney who he considers a true equal in court. This dynamic will allow for less chances to encounter missteps and errors in any verdicts handed down in court, and if Edgeworth is to pursue his ideal of justice- Phoenix Wright is undoubtedly essential to this endeavor. The aftermath of Rise From The Ashes is indicative of this newfound goal of his- the symbolism behind the old King of Prosecutors award and the two halves of the evidence list certainly helps this case. -<"It seems all you do is worry about me." -Miles Edgeworth, Rise From The Ashes> For good fucking reason Edgeworth. You were accused of murder and have implicated yourself on the stand for DL-6 just a few months ago- and if the Investigations games are anything to go by, you're more of a danger magnet than PHOENIX is. I had to say it. The first Investigations game takes place over the course of 2-3 days and the sheer amount of shit that Edgeworth had to deal with in between that interval truly makes me wonder how Phoenix Wright ended up with the title of danger magnet. And THIS time- Edgeworth's car becomes a crime scene because his corrupt superiors needed a convenient way of transporting a corpse. There's VERY good reasons to worry about the livelihood of Miles Edgeworth. -Okay I... can't believe I forgot about the chessboard. Here's the kicker- the one we see from his office isn't even the only one he owns. I... legitimately cannot give you ANY purely heterosexual, platonic explanation for why Miles Edgeworth has THREE (THREE. I CANNOT OVERSTATE THIS. HE HAS T H R E E OF THESE FUCKING THINGS. GOOD GOD. HE CAN'T BE ANY MORE EXTRA.)(there exists a similar, portable set in the Investigations games- and he has a new set by the time of Dual Destinies) sets of custom-made chessboards with personalized, highly-specific red and blue designs made purely to depict his rivalry with Phoenix Wright. I fold. I give up. I forgot about the chessboards I wAS NOT EXPECTING TO FAIL THIS E A R LY- -You know what the real kicker is with Rise From the Ashes? The main argument that I have introduced back in Turnabout Samurai does not apply here. Rise From the Ashes was made as a DS-exclusive case and did not exist in the original GameBoy version of the Trilogy. Which means if there is homoerotic tension written in for this case (and there happens to be a lot. the chessboard is proof enough.), then we can safely assume that the writers at this point were well-aware. So yeah- maybe don't feel TOO bad about the unnecessary feelings line- because ever since then the writers have been playing off of that and it SHOWS. -Is there really a point to this I'm just- everything is stacked against me tryna interpret this platonically -Like I know I make a point to say that a romantic relationship isn't the end-all of all relationships because this franchise LOVES pushing the Found Family dynamic and I'm an absolute sucker for that -good god by the time Dual Destinies rolls around I'll probably just give up and happily say they're happily married -that's literally what they act like don't even pretend