#atlas was truly being the person in which he always presents himself which is a completely fabricated/polished version

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

Atlas: So your boss had you work through your break? Bee… 

Taryn: It’s fiiine, I ate my granola bar in between sorting books.

Atlas: You know that isn’t a healthy place to be at, right?

Taryn: Yeah, but it pays decently.

Atlas: Are you like the sole provider of your house…?

Taryn: Oh no! I’m not sure if Kai mentioned it, but our parents are in Selvadorada taking care of my grandma. She’s really sick and well, we made this arrangement. They take care of a majority of rent and Kai and I take care of utilities and the rest. 

Atlas: Ah, I see. I’m sorry to hear about your grandma.

Taryn: I appreciate it. She’s a kind woman, she used to make me champurrado on Christmas and it was the best.

Atlas: That’s really sweet. I’ve always wondered what that tastes like. Growing up, Toni was adamant on us not meeting our grandparents, so we never got to experience anything. Is it just fancy hot chocolate?

Taryn: I mean it has chocolate, but the consistency and flavor is a bit different.

Atlas: Huh… Want to make some later on tonight?

Taryn: Sure! I was actually wondering, you seemed a bit eager to skip out on that party.

Atlas: Do you still feel bad? Don’t! Besides Dan couldn’t even type out a proper response which tells me they’re having a great time… Without me.

Taryn: So you did want to go.

Atlas: No! No. 

Atlas: I didn’t want to see Frances. That’s the honest answer. 

Taryn: OH, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize things were bad.

Atlas: Nah, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to sour the evening. 

Taryn: Atlas, you don’t have to pretend around me. What’s on your mind?

Atlas: Frances and I… We have our differences. Sometimes it feels like the things that matter to me aren’t important to her and that’s fine, I guess.

Taryn: And this is in regards to?

 Atlas: Toni. She feels like I have something to prove. 

Taryn: But you do. 

Atlas: Taryn-

Taryn: And you know you shouldn’t. 

Atlas: But-

Taryn: So the question is, why? 

Atlas: I think it’s the satisfaction of beating an impossible challenge. God, I sound like I’m into being humiliated or something.

Taryn: He isn’t worth it but you already know that. My job also isn’t worth it, I’m aware but people often do things that we know aren’t good for us. As for Frances, she isn’t your enemy, but I think maybe the two of you need to find common ground in how you both communicate. 

Atlas: [ begins to attempt to speak before falling silent again ]

Taryn: What?

Atlas: Nothing, I’m just glad to be here with you. Thank you. [ bewp ] Your glasses keep slipping down your face.

Taryn: I know, I need to get them fixed- Wait, don’t change the subject. You have something to say. 

Atlas: I dunno what you’re talking about. 

Taryn: Atlas the bike-

Atlas: Wha- Fuck! 

Taryn: I- We should head back.

Atlas: Yeah, of course.

#there's like so much on my mind after writing this i might talk about it in a separate post IDK YET #i personally feel like #this is the first actual moment that they both see each other because before there were moments in the past but i felt like #atlas was truly being the person in which he always presents himself which is a completely fabricated/polished version #so to be able to show up in a way that he rarely does (even around friends) is such a big deal to the point where he almost considered #telling taryn the one secret he's so ashamed to share GAH #GAHHH #IMMA SHUT UP NOW LMAOOOOO #tessellate #sims 4 story

[aria-greenhoodie]

Oh u want oc questions I got sooo many bro

Are the robot uniforms for some sort of job, or do they wear them bc they're mandatory robots (or some other secret third thing)? Is wearing them enforced by the Doctors or someone/something else? What's the relationship between robots and doctors? O _ o

YES THANK YOU FOR ASKING AAA I LOVE BEING ENABLED

Ok! So, the bots and (most) of the scientists are actually all part of a lab made specifically to research and house robots that show signs of sentience. The lab was founded by Jody after they created Ticki and he started to show signs of sentience. It’s basically a safe haven for sentient bots, who are often mistreated and even straight-up decommissioned because of their sentience in other places. The uniforms are optional, and basically just so that the bots don’t have to be naked (but they are kinda repurposed and recycled because the lab doesn’t get much funding so that’s why they’re kinda mid 💀) Of course no one forces the bots to wear the uniforms, and Jonaton and Deedee usually opt not to (esPECIALLY Jonaton). All the scientists are part of the lab except Dr. Fredrick (who is currently deceased but he deserved it so L) And most of them have a decent relationship with the bots.

Jody and their creation, Ticki, are very close, which contributed to Ticki liking and trusting humans so much, and Ticki is very courteous and loyal to the other humans he’s encountered. Jody created Ticki as a personal project, and him gaining sentience was not expected, but was welcomed.

Bellby and Jonaton were both created by Dr. Fredrick to be factory manufacturing bots, and neither like him. He was cruel and did NOT care for their sentience. He treated them as objects, and both Bellby and Jonaton not only hold the trauma of his treatment, but also have permanently damaged certain parts of their sensors and systems due to his cruelty. Bellby has become very nervous and skittish because of this, and while he wants to see the best in people, he tends to be rather slow to truly trust. Jonaton, however, fucking HATES humans because of his treatment. As far as he’s concerned, all humans are untrustworthy and dangerous, and he’s VERY aggressive towards them. Most of the scientists in the lab know this and understand, giving him his space.

Dr. Atlas created Deedee to prove to himself he could create a sentient robot. Deedee is actually made from bits and pieces of Atlas’s failed versions of her, and while he’s pleased that he managed to make a sentient bot, he’s NOT so pleased with Deedee being… well, Deedee. Deedee ADORES Atlas, and sees him as a sort of father figure, but Dr. Atlas is VEHEMENTLY against her calling him dad or being too close to her. He’s… not very fond of her or ANY of the bots. He also sorta idolizes Dr. Fredrick and his work, so um. Yeah he’s a bit contentious in the lab…

Milaya was created by Dr. Tawny, and he was supposed to be a therapy-bot. He was also originally supposed to present as female, but after gaining sentience, Milaya expressed his discomfort in that and Tawny gladly made adjustments to his parts to make him more comfortable in his body! (TRANS ROBOT LETS GOOOO) Tawny and Milaya have a great relationship, Milaya seeing Tawny as a sort of little sister, and Tawny seeing him as an older brother. They have their squabbles as any siblings would, but they are both VERY protective of eachother and would always go to bat for them! Tawny is not necessarily a favorite of the lab due to her combative personality towards literally everyone ever, but she’s actually much nicer to the bots than the human scientists, so she’s alright in most of their books.

Dr. Julianne is not a bot-builder like all the other scientists mentioned so far, she’s a bot mechanic! She specializes in complex robot anatomy, and so was assigned to Milaya due to his VERY detailed and kinda confusing circuitry and parts. Julianne gets along very well with pretty much everyone, except for Dr. Atlas (she thinks he’s uptight and rude, and he thinks she’s a slob and unprofessional) and Jonaton (he just hates all the humans, and the fact that she keeps trying to convince him to let her take a look at his faulty parts and fix them makes him angry). Also, over time bothe Julianne and Milaya developed feelings for one another and they are dating now <3

Dr. Will joined the team in order to research how sentient bots acted in order to work on his project, Leemot. Leemot was supposed to mimic sentience without actually being sentient, though she ended up developing sentience anyway, unknown not only to will and the rest of the lab, but also unknown to her. Will was NOT trusted by most of the bots at first, as his father was the infamous Dr. Fredrick, but he quickly proved to be NOTHING like his dirtbag father <3 He and Leemot do have a kinda strained relationship though, due to Leemot seeing him as simultaneously lesser than it and also desperately feeling the need to be in his favor, and kind of being obsessed about him. Meanwhile Will just wants to have a normal scientist-and-robot relationship, whatever that means. Leemot also eventually is decommissioned after an incident where she caused the death of one human and a severe injury of another.

Dr. Shawn is another bot mechanic, and he has a great relationship with the bots. He’s a very friendly and fun-loving guy, and is VERY into the idea of bots being equal to humans. Deedee ADORES him, and even Jonaton tolerates him better than the other humans. The only person he ever really had a problem with was Dr. Atlas. (Go figure, Atlas is always a problem 💀)

Link, Tech, and Logi are all very late editions to the lab, and were collaborative projects between Tawny and Will. They showed signs of sentience almost immediately, and all three consider Will and Tawny to be their parental figures. All three are pretty ok with humans and bots alike!

I’d LOVE to go into more detail with the story and characters, and I plan to make a lil relationship chart thing soon so feel free to dump more questions!! I love love LOVE my Head Circuits story and I will probably never truly shut up about it lmao

#oc #aria ramblings #oc lore #aria asks #head circuits #Robot oc #android oc #bot oc #Robot #bot #android #scientist oc #oc rambling

[thenovelartist]

Burned Beginnings, chapter 1

Novel decided to do Adrienette April on a whim. Each post until the end of April (or such is the plan) will have 3 prompts in it.

She also discovered she’s very rusty. Bear with me here. XD

Next>>

1. AU

Marinette had thought she’d grown used to Chloe’s bullying, having to had endure it since they were little. However, with high school came a new name that became a regular part of Chloe’s vocabulary, alongside “hot” and “sexy” and “dreamboat”.

“And Marinette would never catch the eye of someone so perfect.”

Honestly, Marinette had thought she was over it, but on a particularly bad day, she’d snapped back at Chloe.

“Well, clearly he isn’t that perfect if he fawns over someone whose only redeeming quality is pretending to be pretty.”

That had led to a fire alarm getting pulled and Marinette left to blame for it. Anyone who tried to come to her defense was shut down, and Marinette had been suspended.

Which had started an all-out war.

After being stuck at home, wrongfully, for three solid days, Marinette had snapped. She’d decided that if Chloe was going to build a bonfire and poor on the gasoline that she would be there with a match. By senior year, Marinette’s record had taken a hit for it but Chloe’s reputation was in the toilet.

Marinette would take what she could get.

However, she supposed she hadn’t fully thought out the consequences. As much as she played with fire, she should have realized she’d get burned sooner or later.

And she did. Third degree.

We regret to inform you your application has been denied.

Those were words she grew tired of seeing yet came back from every school she applied to. With that in mind, she’d called up her girl friends to tell them what had happened.

“Hey, Marinette,” Alya had said upon seeing the letters. “Don’t get me wrong, I feel really bad for you. But… I did warn you—”

“I get it,” Marinette had surrendered, knowing that Alya was completely right. “You tried to warm me of the consequences, and now I’m paying for them.”

The girls had slipped into a moment of silence before Alix spoke up. “Hey, I can ask Max if he can do a little digging so you at least know why, yeah?”

Marinette had raised a brow but agreed. “Only if he’s not busy with his own college stuff.”

“Oh please, he’s too smart for college. He started up some robotics company in his free time and is already making bank on it.”

It took a week for Max to come back with a full report. Marinette had to give him props for working fast as he did.

“Hacking into the system was the first thing I could think of,” he’d explained. “In the side notes, there was mention of your attendance record and suspensions.”

“They were all wrongful suspensions,” Alix had countered.

“Doesn’t matter to the school,” Max had said with a shrug. “But even then, I thought there had to be more to this than just attendance. There were other students who had the same notes yet were accepted. So I shifted focus to digging up background on all the directors of the school. After hacking a few emails, I discovered Audrey Bourgeois happens to know a lot of directors or administration members in all the fashion schools of France. Considering the contents of most of those emails, it has become clear that Marinette was wrongfully barred from every school she’d applied to. And that there’s nothing that can be done about it because we only discovered such scandal through highly illegal means.”

“So…” Alya had begun, turning her attention to Marinette. “Where does that leave you, M?”

Marinette’s lips had pursed in thought. It was funny how things turned out, because despite her anger, she somehow had been peace with what she was faced with. “I think that the last place I want to be is in an industry full of liars and people who use their words to manipulate anyone they damn well please.”

That was how she ended up working full-time in her parents’ bakery. They never said a word about it, but she knew they were disappointed. Of course they weren’t mad about her still being here and working in the bakery with them, and she knew her parents still loved her more than anything.

But she knew that with as many dreams as she had and had shared with them, they were disappointed on her surrendering it all.

“Sorry, Maman, Papa,” she whispered into the empty kitchen as she plopped the baguettes she formed onto a baking tray. “Just give me a little time to figure things out. Seems like lofty dreams are a lot easier to crush than I realized.”

 2. Rebellion

A son can only bear the world of their parent’s expectations for so long. He wasn’t Atlas, but after a few years of acting like him, Adrien decided to dump the globe. To hell if it broke. He’d smirk in satisfaction at his father’s disappointment.

At the very least, the fact he no longer had the weight of the world of his shoulders made the far-too-common disappointment lecture easier to bear.

His strategic rebellion had started harmless enough. At sixteen with a rapidly growing forced modeling career, he’d given his father an ultimatum: he gets to grow out his hair, or it all goes. It had been shocking the amount of power the razor in his hand had given him. It was the perfect harmless threat. His father had been furious, throwing a fit about Adrien acting like a child, but after being gaslit for so long, Adrien had finally come to realize the abusive techniques for what they were. And he wasn’t going to roll over and take it any longer.

That day had ended with Adrien being grounded but ultimately the victor of their stand-off.

After that, he’d begun ditching certain events. He’d always liked fencing, so he never ditched those lessons, but attendance for his home-school lessons, mandarin lessons, and piano lessons had all been decided on a whim. His father had hardly been pleased by this, but to Adrien, that was the point. The lectures soon washed into one another so much that Adrien could practically recite the words that roll off his father’s tongue verbatim. He’d come to realize they were strategically meant to hurt. To humiliate. And as such, he’d stopped taking them personally.

Then came the fun part.

He got earrings. Honestly, Adrien hadn’t really cared for the piercings one way or another. In one way, there were a hassle, and caring for new piercings was a pain in the butt. However, they had been worth it to see his dad so royally pissed off.

Then came the ditching of certain photoshoots. There was a reason Adrien had held off on this one for so long: he cared about the people running the shoot. There was no reason they needed to be collateral in this battle between him and his father. After all, they were just employees doing their job; Adrien didn’t want them to suffer for his rebellion. With that in mind, Adrien had planned out his absences of these photoshoots. Again, he didn’t want to drag anyone else into his mess, so he had always organized a replacement model. Shoot would always go on, just not as planned.

And that was enough to drive his father mad.

It always put a smile on Adrien’s face.

The last touch was an unexpected one. He hadn’t even thought about going this far. Yet, a friend of his not only put the idea in his head, but gave him the art to go with it.

“Is that a tattoo?”

Oh, how he wished he would have taken a picture of his father’s face. The large black cat surrounded in a green, wispy smoke that wrapped around his forearm was truly a work of art. He’d had to think carefully about this decision, but in the end, he quite liked it.

“Yeah. I’m eighteen; I can ink myself if I want to. Why? Is that a problem?”

Adrien might be wearing a cat on his arm, but the grin on his lips was downright wolfish.

Eventually, it all had come to a head and blew up in his face. Adrien couldn’t say he’d been surprised. In fact, he had been fully expecting it. He’d already found an apartment to rent and had begun sneaking most of his important things over there before his father could kick him out. So when Adrien found himself kicked to the curb as soon as he was handed his general education certificate, Adrien had been prepared.

But mostly, he was free.

What a joyous day it was.

However, now that he was free, he knew he needed a job. Not because he needed the money, per se, but because it was time he started acting like the average adult. He never got to go to school, so now, it was time to pick up a mundane, first job that everyone hated but would “serve him well later in life”. Mostly, it would just be something normal.

The easy places to apply were food shops and retail stores. He’d work one for a while before deciding what his next life step would be. Chloe had been quick to offer him a job at her father’s hotel, but Adrien was vehemently against the idea. Over the span of his rebellion, Chloe’s behavior and attitude towards him had grown notably worse, and he had a feeling cutting ties with her would be his next step in life.

In the end, he’d scored a job he definitely was underqualified for. He’d applied partly out of spite and partly because ‘why not?’ He’d heard about this bakery enough times from Chloe to know the “cruel bitch who did nothing but mercilessly harass her” lived here, and that was enough to pique Adrien’s curiosity. At a bakery as popular as that, though, he hadn’t been sure he’d get a call. And when he did, he knew he would do everything he could to present himself as a reliable and respectable man eager to work, but he never thought he’d end up hitting it off with the owner.

Which somehow ended up with him agreeing to work at Tom and Sabine’s Patisserie.

Going into that job, he swore to himself he would do what he could to prove himself worthy. He knew there had to have been better applicants, so Adrien didn’t want to disappoint the very kind owners who dared give him a chance. Soon, his days were spent working hard while covered in flour and surrounded by bread all day. Well, bread and all the sharp and hot objects in your average kitchen.

He just didn’t think that would include a wicked sharp and smoking hot young lady that happened to be his bosses’ daughter.

 3. Game Night

“Mama, Papa, please go. You two hardly ever get out of the house.”

Marinette watched her maman put a hand over the mouthpiece of her phone while her papa turned to her. “But I’ll be busy that night. We have a massive order scheduled for the next day.”

“I can handle that,” Marinette quickly countered with a grin. “You know I’m a night owl, anyway. I’ll get it done, and you two can go enjoy game night with your friends.”

Her parents spared each other a glance. “Are you sure about that, Marinette?” Maman asked.

“Positive. Papa already talks to the bread too much, so he really should talk to people for a change. And while you have to deal with people all day, I know you want more than to just have short conversations filled with small talk. So please, go out and have a social life for once.”

With one last look, her parents relented. With a smile, her mother took her hand off the phone. “We’ll be there.”

Papa turned to her with a grin. “I was going to spend that time teaching Adrien how to handle those orders. I can leave teaching him in your hands, right?”

Her grin fell. Adrien Agreste. What the hell a washed-out model was doing working at her parents’ bakery was beyond her. Admittedly, over the last month she’d been working with him, the most she’d say is that maybe he wasn’t too bad a guy. Papa certainly sung his praises. But that still didn’t answer the question of why he was working here of all places. After all, he was Chloe’s friend and suspected lover.

“Don’t think I don’t see that look on your face, Marinette,” her maman chastised. She’d hung up and set her phone down already, fully giving her attention to her daughter. “No matter your personal feelings, you really should give him a chance.”

“He’s a good kid,” Papa said. “Maybe a little rough around the edges, but I can tell he really does want to learn and do his best.”

Marinette sighed. This wasn’t the first time this talk had happened. She remembered having a talk with her parents after his first interview. There were a few other people who were far more qualified for the job, but Papa said he liked Adrien’s personality and spirit the best. So in the end, all Marinette’s objections had fallen upon deaf ears.

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll give him a chance.”

With a smile that made Marinette loath to disappoint him, her papa patted her head affectionately. “Thank you, Marinette. I think you’d like him if you got to know him.”

Not likely. “I’ll do my best, Papa.”

“Really, Marinette,” her maman warned. “Unless you have a valid reason, you need to put aside your feelings for the sake of the bakery running smoothly. Can you manage that?”

Appropriately chastised, Marinette bowed her head in embarrassment. Maman brought up a good point: Marinette shouldn’t let her anger towards Adrien affect the bakery. Her parents didn’t deserve that. “Yes, Maman. I’m sorry.”

With a smile, her maman came up and wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you, Marinette.”

Marinette hugged her back. “No, thank you, Maman and Papa, for everything. I won’t let you down.”

Papa wrapped his arms around both her and Maman. “Thank you, sweetheart. We love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrienette #AdrinetteApril2021 #AU #Marinette's kinda bitter #And Adrien's a rebel #If they're OOC I don't care #I'm writing again and just rolling with it

[hamliet]

RWBY and Alchemy: The Birds

So remember when I wrote about the seven metals of alchemy? Well... there are also five birds, and like with the metals, RWBY seems to be associating a specific character with a specific bird. 

Birds are important in alchemy because they were viewed as symbols of the spirit, as “mediat[ors] between the earthly realm and heaven world.” Adam MacLean states:

The alchemist in observing the flight of birds, recognised in them a picture of the human soul undergoing spiritual development. The soul, aspiring upwards, flying free of the restraints of the earth bound body seeking the heavenly light, only to have to return to the earthly consciousness again.

Black Stage: Raven/Crow (Raven and Qrow Branwen)

The raven/crow/jackdaw is a symbol of nigredo, the blackening. This stage corresponds to earth elementally and symbolize decay and death (obviously).

It’s no coincidence that Qrow and Raven are focused on in the first part of the story, and while they still are under their own arcs, Qrow has been largely separated from his nieces and others during the past few volumes. His nieces and the rest need to grow up rather than depend on Qrow. See Splendor Solis 20:

The children are portrayed as playing with a crow/raven among them, symbolizing their immaturity. However, the adults in the back of the image are in red, showing that they have grown up.

The theme of growing up and maturation is very present in Raven’s arc: namely, she never did. She fled from her adult responsibilities in abandoning her own daughter and ran back to her childhood home, her childhood promise. She also undergoes a putrefaction, a purification by fire in a sense, through her daughter. When Yang confronts her in the vault of the Spring Maiden, she shreds every excuse Raven has, pointing out that Raven is selfish, cowardly, and childish, happy to sacrifice others but never herself. The daughter, here, is the mature one, and thus Yang wins the lamp of knowledge: Yang gave Raven a dose of self-knowledge in the vault, and we see Raven making a small step afterwards via going to see Tai.

Qrow is better off than Raven in that he doesn’t entirely run from his responsibilities... except he does, just in a different way. He drinks to dull the pain, and as a result, Ruby ends up taking care of him on their journey instead of the other way around. Qrow himself acknowledges that he has childish beliefs; his semblance is a self-fulfilling prophecy rather than an actual power.

For the first time in a while I thought, maybe, maybe I could be around somebody -anybody- without my Semblance making it… complicated. And now, it just feels like a childish dream. Gone... like everybody else.

Just like his twin sister, he’s afraid of truly getting close to people, which RWBY seems to hold up as the pillar of maturity and development. I’m not saying Qrow is as negative a character as Raven (he isn’t at all), but he is still struggling to grow up aside his nieces and their companions. In fact, this will be A Thing for all the characters who relate to birds.

The crow is often depicted as dying inside a flask:

Which could be seen as alluded to by Qrow’s alcoholism. Through not facing the darker parts of himself and not growing up, Qrow is killing himself. Fortunately, he’s been making some steps in the right direction.

Rainbow Stage: Peacock (Cinder Fall)

Look the girl has feathers on her outfit that are very reminiscent of peacocks feathers... without the eyes. We’ll get there. The feathers are described by CRWBY as “iridescent” which is a term alchemists employed historically to refer to the rainbow stage. 

Post-Blackening, the products of the great work are scattered in a variety of colors, colors that are all at war with each other. To quote Carl Jung,

It is commonly said of the peacock that it has an angel‘s feathers, a devil’s voice, and a thief’s walk.

NB: arrows are often used as symbols in part of this stage, and bows and arrows are weapons Cinder is, er, known for using too. 

Jung also comments this, which fits with Cinder being both a Maiden, associated with the seasons, and with her being an agent for change in the story as a whole:

Just as the Queen Mother or the mother of the gods grants renewal, so the peacock annually renews his plumage, and therefore has a relation to all the changes in nature.

The peacock is actually a flightless bird: post death in the Blackening, it cannot fly, but in order to proceed through the rest of the stages, it has to gather the disparate colors (ie parts of itself) in order to renew itself (yes, they’re linked to renewal and rebirth).

However, Cinder is not doing this. She received many call-outs, and has severed every bridge people have attempted to build with her. If anything, post volume 8, she seems more lost than ever. So what could be an impetus for her to do this? Well...

Why are her peacock-esque feathers missing their eyes?

The ancient Greek legend of Argus (which is a place in RWBY’s world; the place where Ruby hears Maria’s story of her silver eyes and asks Maria to train her in using her silver eyes) is that there is an immortal monstrous woman with snakes for legs named Echidna who they keep hidden in a cave, but she keeps finding ways to kill humans, until Argus finally kills her. After this, Hera has Argus guard a goddess with his hundred eyes, but then Mercury/Hermes/Thoth kills Argus, and Hera casts his eyes into peacocks’ tails to remember him. I wouldn’t read toooo much into this, but I do think it would be very, very fitting for Cinder to receive a call-out from her “kids”: Emerald and Mercury, the latter of whom is an allusion to Hermes/Mercury and the former of whom might be an allusion to Thoth. Until Cinder has been confronted by Mercury and Emerald, she won’t truly be able to see. 

I have said before that I think Ruby will use her silver eyes to save Cinder from being consumed by the worst parts of herself (as literally symbolized in the Grimm taking her over). The decay of the Blackening is washed away to reveal the color of the peacock’s iridescent tail, and so both a confrontation to get Cinder to face the worst of herself, and then pity shown to her by someone who has no reason to be kind to purify her (look, it’s a term in alchemy, and Ruby has been described as “the embodiment of purity”) of the Grimm will probably be the impetus for Cinder to change.

White Stage: Swan/Dove (Robyn Hill, maybe Winter Schnee?)

Robyn’s emblem is a white bird.

The swan symbolises the dissolving of impurity into ash. In Volume 8, when Robyn and Qrow are freed from prison, ash falls everywhere.

Like the peacock, a swan is a bird that does not fly. Robyn is grounded in Mantle, rather than Atlas. After the gathering of opposites in the Peacock’s Tail, the dove/swan “reconciles and unites opposite substances,” according to Lyndy Abraham. Swans swim along the surface of water, while the true colors are concealed beneath; swans dunk their heads underwater, which symbolizes a person diving deep into dissolution and purification. Robyn’s Semblance is also about this: it allows Robyn to sense their true colors and intentions, rather than what they attempt to protect at the surface.

I am also wondering if Winter is somehow connected to this as well, because of the appearance of white birds in her semblance. 

The focus on transformation that is part of the life cycle of a swan (ugly ducking to beautiful bird) is also perhaps symbolic of Winter’s internal development; this volume, she learned to fly on her own, growing up and shedding the need for father figures completely. She’s now able to fly (literally) freely and to save her people. But we will see; the connection is less strong here. 

Yellow Stage: Pelican (Hazel Rainart)

Due to the previous three all having links to a maiden, I wonder if the summer maiden will somehow be connected to pelican imagery, but for now, my inclination is to say that Hazel displays traits of the pelican as well, though there may be another person associated at some point. 

The pelican’s notable accomplishment is to stab its own breast and nourish its young with its own blood. It is a symbol of sacrifice. Hazel sacrifices himself to save the children: Emerald, Oscar, Jaune, Yang, and Ren. He does so by stabbing himself in the chest with numerous dust types, combining all sorts of elements (key to alchemy).

Red Stage: Phoenix (?)

This one remains to be determined. It could well could be Cinder (I mean, look at her name), plus the bird characters have thus far been adults like she is and possibly have a maiden association. 

But it could also be Mercury, because of his association with fire  and specifically with burning his “nest” as the phoenix does. When Cinder and Emerald find him, he’s burned his home. 

Plus, I think it’s pretty obvious Mercury will either get his semblance back or develop a new one, and it’s most likely going to be related to flying given his emblem and allusion. It would also fit with his having prosthetic legs: he doesn’t need them fixed, and his losses don’t make him any less human. It’s always been within his soul to fly. 

Ooooor the phoenix could be connected to Oscar, because of its association with the sun. It’s really too soon to say. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#rwby alchemy #rwby meta #rwby speculation #cinder fall #mercury black #oscar pine #qrow branwen #raven branwen #robyn hill #winter schnee #alchemy #hazel rainart #rwby theory #this meta is not perfect #but i was tired of wrestling with the birds

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

I'm very curious to hear your take on Zuko as a disabled character? All of your analyses of disability in fiction have been very interesting to read so far, thank you for sharing your thoughts/expertise.

Thank you!  Follow-on from this post about Toph.

What I mean by saying Zuko is a disabled character: the social model of disability basically states that disability is any bodily difference that gets problematized and/or treated as abnormal by society.  This definition includes facial differences, AKA any scarring, skin marking, and so on that leads to staring by nondisabled society or other forms of stigma based on the person’s appearance.  Part of the reason for this inclusion is about complicating the disabled-nondisabled dichotomy; facial difference and facial scarring are identities within that framework.  Part of the reason comes from the U.S.’s history of Ugly Laws, which literally made it illegal for people with facial differences to appear in public in some cities as late as 1974.  Part of it is the huge overlap between ableism (giving more privileges to the nondisabled) and lookism (giving more privileges to the normatively beautiful).

Avatar: The Last Airbender has some high-quality anti-ableism in showing Zuko’s story, including how other characters respond to Zuko and how Zuko’s appearance informs but does not define his characterization.

One of the ways this comes out is by turning nondisabled characters’ gaze back on them:

In “The Serpent’s Pass,” Jet says to Zuko “You know, as soon as I saw your scar, I knew exactly who you were…” and then goes on to describe his almost hilariously wrong conclusion that Zuko’s a Freedom Fighter waiting to happen because Zuko’s village was presumably also destroyed by the Fire Nation.  We get to see Zuko’s moment of terror that he actually has been recognized turn into incredulity as he then gets invited to join a guerrilla force opposing everything he (currently) stands for.  Jet looks stupid for jumping to conclusions based on appearances.

In both “Zuko Alone” and “The Cave of Two Lovers,” that same jumping-to-conclusions works in Zuko’s favor, because both Song’s mother and Li’s parents assume that anyone with a burn scar must be a veteran of the fight against the Fire Nation.  Again, the emphasis is on the fact that the people judging Zuko based on his appearance are wrong.

In “The Chase,” Azula becomes the only person we ever see mock Zuko for his appearance, when she covers her own left eye to draw out the “family resemblance” for Aang.  The moment gets a horrified reaction out of Aang — Zuko’s his enemy, but Aang also realizes that this is a nasty thing to do — and helps to establish Azula as not just a villain, but a sadistic one.

In “The Beach,” Zuko blows up at Ty Lee for commenting that stress can cause breakouts.  His response is unnecessarily mean-spirited, but it also draws attention to the relative level of privilege (the biggest skin problem she has to worry about is acne) that informed her careless comment.

In “Crossroads of Destiny,” Zuko assumes that, when Katara calls him “the face of the enemy,” it’s a way of calling him frightening to look at — and it’s Katara who looks like a jerk for implying it, even accidentally.

The other big way that this comes out is clapping back at the implied treatment of disability as demanding explanation, or the “But why are you like this?” form of ableism:

The show makes it clear that Zuko does not owe anyone — not Song, not Li, not Jet, not his crew, not his friends — an explanation for why he looks the way he does.  None of the Gaang ever ask Zuko what happened, and the few characters who do (Li, Song, Lieutenant Jee) don’t end up looking good when they do so.

“The Cave of Two Lovers” clearly underlines the show’s theme of “my body, my business” in the scene where Song tries to touch Zuko’s face.  The tone (including literal musical tones) signals that Song is being inappropriate and invasive.  It’s understandable that she wants to make a connection, but it’s also emphatically not okay to touch body parts of strangers one has not received permission to touch.

To be clear, taking people’s ostrich-horses is also not okay, Zuko, but Baby’s First Grand Theft Auto helps drive home just how thoroughly Song has let her curiosity and rudeness sour a budding connection.  It also shows that, while she’s right that she and Zuko have some things in common, she has privileges he lacks because she doesn’t have to disclose her scars if she doesn’t feel like it.  Plus, that moment contrasts to Katara and Mai both touching Zuko’s cheek — Katara just after they’ve shared a moment of vulnerability, Mai just before they start smooching — because they’re both doing so in a way that’s respectful to Zuko himself.

When he wakes up from a dream of turning into Aang, the first thing Zuko does is touch his left eye to make sure he’s still himself.  It’s part of his identity, and the only time we see adolescent Zuko without it (earlier in the dream sequence) it’s a way of showing that Zuko isn’t truly himself.

Zuko grapples with the fact that he’s always going to bear evidence of having survived abuse, and a big part of his character journey is concluding that he’s free to make whatever meaning he chooses of that scar, regardless of what Ozai might’ve intended.

There are other elements of Zuko’s story the Avatar writers do well.  He bears a superficial resemblance to the thousands of villains (especially in SF) who become villainous because they incur facial scarring, but of course his story is infinitely more humanized and nuanced than “skin bleached in a vat of acid, might as well go rob banks now.”  His appearance incurs very different reactions depending on his current wealth and political power, emphasizing the intersections of disability and imperialism.  He discusses the possibility of a cure with Katara, but also goes on to live a long and fulfilling life without one.

Maybe there’s no clearer evidence that Zuko counts as disabled in the sense of “society treats your body as a problem that needs to be solved” than the way that adaptations of AtLA treat the scar.  They tend to minimize, hide, or otherwise avoid it.

[Image description: Sepia-toned image of the Gaang from a Legend of Korra promotional that appeared on the Nickelodeon website.  Zuko has his head turned and his hair swept forward in such a way that none of the left side of his face is visible.]

[Image description: Screenshot of Zuko from the 2010 adaptation The Last Airbender.  Dev Patel has a very subtle amount of makeup meant to convey minimal scarring around his left eye.]

Like I said: facial difference counts as a disability because society treats it like one.  In the social model, that’s what counts rather than, for instance, how much peripheral vision Zuko does or doesn’t have.

I’m not linking to any of many works of fan art that depict Zuko tilted to the right, occasionally even when other characters are presented facing directly ahead.  Nor am I going to link to any of the equally-plentiful works of fan fiction that keep most other elements of canon the same but specify that Zuko’s face is unscarred.  (A similar number, it’s worth noting, also make Toph sighted.)  This isn’t a callout.  It’s an explanation of how Avatar does an effective job of showing how Zuko’s facial difference informs his identity without making that difference the sum total of his identity.

#avatar #atla #avatar the last airbender #nothing to do with animorphs #long post #disability representation #ableism #facial difference #social model of disability #prince zuko #zuzu #his firelordiness #zuko meta #atla meta #anonymous #asks

[dreamer213]

Broken machines: Lights the dark

Chapter 2 Beautiful Night

In dark quiet room a young man sits atop his bed waiting. The room itself is opulent and pristine, a queen size bed with silk sheets, oak wood floor, a gorgeous antique armoire full of designer clothing, a full length mirror, silver trend curtains, an ornately detailed desk, bookshelf filled with materials on business, culture, and the arts and even a bath en-suite. Truly a scene ripped straight from a magazine with it’s presentation and uniform coloring. Nothing but dark blues, grays, and whites as far as the eye could see, it gives off a very chic and vintage feel but such a cold color scheme leaves little room for light to enter. With darkness of night sky peeking through the window It is as though the room itself becomes like snow, beautiful and magnificent in appearance but cold and devoid of life. The same can be said for the boy, smooth white hair set neat and tidy in a simple but elegant cut, a long and slender figure with good posture and a gorgeous face with high cheek bones, full lips, a perfect jaw line, long lashes, and beautiful deep blue eyes. But behind those beautiful eyes lays a cold and empty stare, no youthful joy or warmth to speak of, just the cold stare of empty soul. If not for his breathing and movements he could be mistaken for a porcelain doll, left in it’s display never to be moved or play with but to be held up and admired. But that is not important right now. No, what matters right now is if Weiss’s found the back doors they left open for her and made her escape yet.

It’s been a while she should be long gone by now, if she hasn’t left yet it won’t be long before Father finds her then Gods know what he’ll will do. I mean getting caught trying to escape the city after nearly killing a defenseless woman at a public event over some unkind remarks. Cleaning up this mess is going to be hell on its own but if Father finds her trying to run away He’ll-

Whitley tenses up and grips his biceps through his sleeves, there’s a dazed look in his eyes. He closes his eyes, takes some deep breath, and calms himself.

No, I can’t think like that now. I have to believe that she followed through, that she ran away pre her usually sanctimonious behavior. I mean what did she think she was going to achieve by acting like that. Did she think that was going to change their minds? Did she really think that screaming like a child and losing control of her powers was going to do anything but cause chaos. If General Ironwood hadn’t been there we all could been killed by that monster. But no, even after fighting Grimm and seeing how terrifying they are first hand, she still never once gave a thought to what the consequences of her actions would be for anyone but herself. But then again that just might be who she is now. Doesn’t matter if she to her if she’s right or wrong, if she feels attacked she’ll just lash out either physical or verbal. With all her talk of restoring our family name I never thought she would do something like this. I never thought she would go this far but then again I never thought she’d treat me like an enemy. I try my best to engage with her whenever I could and she accuses me of wanting to her get disinherited and acts like I’ve stolen her role away from her. Really? She thought I would want the life both she and Winter ran away from the first chance they could. Seriously? What do I gain from her failure, living at home with a drunk for mother, a tyrant father, and a staff of people traumatized from working with them. Having my every move monitored and commanded by a man who cares more about money than human life. The enormous amount of work that comes with preparing to take over a company of such great magnitude and whatever grunt work Father doesn’t feel like doing. OH! Let’s not forget the fact that you’ll never truly be in charge as Father will surely keep you trapped under his heel until the day he dies! A life as puppet to a man whose dragged our family name through the dirt trapped in a house colder than the coldest of blizzard. Yes Weiss, I so desperately wanted you to run away to live your dreams so I could live your nightmare.

“WHERE IS SHE!!!” “WHERE DID THAT WORTHLESS BRAT GO!”

Whitley hears his father screaming down the hall, the screaming continues for almost an hour until it’s becomes clear that Weiss has escaped. For moment everything’s quite as though the entire manor has become frozen in time. But not long after the silence there’s a crash then another and another. The commotion grows louder and louder with every passing second until the shirks of manor staff become just loud as the havoc Jacques Schnee is wreaking.

Whitley: Looks like it’s time to clean up the mess.

Whitley gets up and walks out of his room towards the commotion. As he gets closer and closer as follows his father’s path of destruction. Broken glass, fallen paintings, and décor pieces smashed and scattered across the floor the halls are in shambles. When he finally reaches his father the situation is much worse than he expected. Jacques has completely lost his composure, he’s throwing things, screaming wildly, his face is beet red and his eyes are bulging. The servants are trying their best to calm down while trying to avoid getting hit. They try and try but nothing they do seems to calms him. As this struggle continues Whitley approaches them, he quietly walks up behind them. He stands there waiting for an opportunity to grab his father’s attention.

Jacques: AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE DONE FOR THAT UNGRATEFUL BITCH SHE DARED TO DEFY ME LIKE THIS!

Whitley: Father please, you need to calm down the stress isn’t good for—

Before he can get another word out an object goes flying past Whitley’s head. It was a small antique clock a gift from a business associate. His father Jacques Schnee, who was now facing him, had thrown it within an inch of his own son’s head. Jacques stalks over towards Whitley, getting closer and closer until he is standing over his son and stares directly into his eyes.

Jacques: What did you say?

Whitley: Stay calm, stay focused, you have to see this to an end before things get worse. I said you should calm down you shouldn’t be stressing yourself over such a minor issue. It’s not good for your health.

Jacques: And do tell me Whitley, how is your sister running away a “minor issue”.

Whitley: Well she’s already been disinherited and made a public spectacle of herself, there’s no real need for her to be at the manor anymore. That and when people ask about her and how she was punished you can say she was kick out and thrown to the streets for her awful behavior. For most that were present at that party the very idea of being cut off is the stuff of nightmares, hearing that the heiress to Schnee dust fortune got herself thrown out for her reckless mistakes should help calm the ruckus Weiss created.

For a moment everyone pauses, they hold their breath waiting for the elder Schnee’s reaction. After what feels like hours Jacques puts his hand above Whitley’s head. He brings it down and begins to slow pat his son’s head.

Jacques: Good job Whitley, you always have your mind in the right place when I need you to.

Whitley: Of course Father, I’m always thinking of what’s best for the Schnee legacy.

Jacques: Good, now then get this mess cleaned up I need to go have a talk with Klein. I just know that dog had a hand in this.

Whitley: Yes Father, I’ll have the staff get this up right away.

Jacques gives an approving nod then walks away. As soon as his step can no longer be heard and he is out of earshot the servants all breathe a sigh of relief and start cleaning up. Whitley walks down the hall, searching for someone. After roughly half an hour up and down the second floor Whitley finally finds the person he’s been looking for, Mary Shellor.

Mary Shellor has been working at the Schnee Manor for several years. When she first arrived no one expected her to last very long but to their surprise she acclimated to the environment rather quickly. She was also a very diligent worker, never making a mistake more then once. And because of her skill, not long after her hiring Mary was promoted to one of the most important and most difficult positions in the manor, Willow’s personal maid. She’d become Willow’s shadow following and serving her wherever she may go unless dismissed. During her first year as Willow’ maid also sought out and obtained another role, or rather a long term investment. You see after observing the family for a time it became clear to Mary which child would inherit the family fortune. The children, Winter, Weiss, and Whitley, had been raised quite incorrectly for their natures. Like wolves raised as show dogs ,they were trained to be obedient, intelligent, and outstanding but because of their strong willed and fierce natures they could never truly be tamed. First and second born were allowed enough freedom to want for more and seek an end to their captivity even if it meant losing everything. Eventuality they were able to beard their fangs and break free of their chains. But the third born, the son, was not allowed such opportunities, No Jacques had learned from his past mistakes he wasn’t letting this one get away. Whitley was kept closer, his chains made tighter, and cage made much smaller then his predecessors. And yet Mary could still see the wolf in him, though different from his sisters it was still there. Unlike his sisters he couldn’t attack or run from his situation so the boy did the only thing he could and did it well, he played along. He played the role of Father’s loyal dog so well that even his sister believed the act without question but unbeknownst to her or their father beneath that mask Whitley’s fangs were growing strap, he was waiting. Whitley knows when he’s at a disadvantage he knows when to act and when to retreat, he knows how to play games, the game of Atlas politics, his father’s games, and the games of the business world. The day Whitley would strike would be the day everything would be returned to a true Schnee, one who knew how to survive in this world, who knew the mistakes of the past and how not to repeat them. Mary wanted to be on the right side when that day came and so she became Whitley’s eyes and ears in and outside of the manor as long as he promised to keep her in mind when the time came. That was their argument one Mary never doubted would play out in her favor.

Whitley: Mary where’s Mother?

Mary: The Mistress has retreated to the library. After the shouting started she ran inside and hid. I asked her if there was anything I could do and she dismissed me.

Whitley: Thank you Mary, stay here I’ll be back in a moment.

Mary: Yes, Young master

Whitley walks pass her towards the library, once at the doors he pulls them open only to find that the lights are off and the scent of alcohol is heavy in the air. Whitley follow the scent deeper and deeper into the library, gagging slightly the closer he gets, as he draws nearer to the source he finds a trail of wine bottles.

Whitley: They’re all empty, she’s close.

He picks up the bottles as he follows the trail until he finds a blanket covered figure sitting on the floor tucked into a corner. Whitley puts the bottles down and slowly approaches the figure, small sobs escape it as he drew closer, he kneels down in front of them with his hands on his knees. He then gently pulls the blanket off the figure to reveal his mother Willow Schnee, sobbing and trembling beneath the blanket she’s wrapped herself in.

Whitley: It’s over Mother, Father’s gone back to his office. You can go back to your room now he won’t be coming out for some time.

Whitley holds out his hand towards Willow, with a shaky hand Willow grabs onto her son. Whitley grabs onto tightly, wraps his free arm around her shoulders and pulls her up. He steadies her as she gets on her feet, and guides her through the darkness and into the hallway. Once they’re out out of the library he hands Willow off to Mary.

Whitley: Take her back to her room she can barely walk, make sure to leave a bucket by her bed. And don’t let her have anything else tonight she has too much in her system already. She’s also left a good amount of empties on floor again, have someone clean those up before Father’s next reading hour.

Mary: Of course Young Master, we’ll have everything clean and in order before Master Jacques get up for breakfast.

Whitley:Thank you Mary , that will be all for tonight.

This was why Mary chose to put her faith in the boy, for as cold and defensive as Whitley was he was also incredibly loyal. Whenever the Master flew off the handle the Young Master would do everything in his power to calm him down and keep him calm for as long as possible. At first Mary thought this was more his loyal dog act but after a few more incidents it was clear what he was doing. Whitley would never sacrifice another’s safety for his own. His true purpose for playing the Master’s game was not to obtain power but peace and freedom from the chains that bind this manor and the people in it.

With that Mary and Willow depart towards Willow’s bedroom while Whitley retreats his own. Once there he closes the door behind himself and pressing his back against the door. He takes a deep breath then slumps down the door, gets into the fetal position and starts to sob. He cries and weeps for a long, long time, until his face is red and his voice horse. Once he finally he stops Whitley gets up and goes to his ensuite to clean himself up. After a long bath he puts on his sleepwear and lays down on his bed, he stares up at the ceiling until he finally succumbs to his own exhaustion and falls into a dreamless sleep.

#whitley schnee #broken machines #rwby #rwby fanfiction #fanfic #Someone hold this baby #sad #fanfiction

[good-rwbyaus]

Au where Whitley has actually been running the bank accounts since he was young and keeping the group financially viable

#Rising Snow AU - mod lilac - [ next ]

1. Beginning

It started when his father, smelling like expensive liquors and overbearing perfume, shoved a packet of folders at him and stated “You deal with it. Your father has a hang- headache” before staggering off back to his bedroom to sleep off yesterday’s social gathering.  

He was ecstatic. His father began to trust him to handle things in the company. Before he was a mere fixture in the company, only present to speak pleasantries and let others know that Jacques Schnee had a well-bred son. But now he had responsibilities and power.  

Whitley Schnee, soon-to-be-heir of the Schnee Dust Company since Weiss didn’t seem to care about it and Willow just left to join Atlas, will show everyone his worth, starting with.... a whole lot of complaints about their customer service.

_______________________________________

2. Complaints

“This motor is covered under warranty. I still have the original receipt. You have to take it back.”

“Sorry, but the warranty only covers usage in automobiles. You said you tried installing it in a motorcycle, so your warranty is void.”

“...A motorcycle is an automobile, sir.”

“Look smartass, you’re getting on my nerves. You’re not going to get a refund from the Schnee Dust Company, got it?”

“Excuse me!? I want to talk to your manager. Now.”

“I am the manager. Now stop wasting my time.”

“Wh-” 

Click.

Whitley’s eyebrows creased sharply as he closed the Scroll. He took slow deep breaths trying to get rid of the anger trembling through his body. A Schnee is like ice. They do not show their rage unless they can leverage it for their purposes. His teeth gritted once more and relaxed.

Those two-faced bastards. He knew the customer service staff were no good when they started fawning over him, telling him that “of course they got complaints when they couldn’t fulfill their requests” or “we got everything under control.” 

In reality, they were all just disgusting liars who couldn’t do their job. If he hadn’t been suspicious of them, they might’ve gotten away with it. Those people had to be removed before they truly caused an incident; he cannot let such unsightly things remain. 

He picked up the phone.

________________________________________

3. Fired.

“You can’t do this to us! This is going against our contract.”

“Just because you’re your father’s son doesn’t mean you have any power here.”

“You’re going to speak to my lawyer about unfair dismissal, kid!”

It’s funny. The half-dozen or so people who were fawning over him just hours earlier were now cursing and shaming him. Of course they were angry. He just told them they were all fired a couple minutes ago and stopped saying anything when they started yelling like a mob. His lips trembled, trying to stop himself from smiling. 

Gods. He was so angry that he’s finding humor in it. Do they really think they have power here?

Bang. 

A bald-headed tall man - the manager he spoke to last - slammed his hands onto his desk, looming over him as if to intimidate him with the threat of physical violence. The noise made him flinch slightly, breaking his facade of calm and causing the other guy to smirk mockingly at him. 

Bastard.

This farce has gone on long enough.

“Okay. You can keep your jobs...”

Immediately, the six people leered triumphantly with the one at the head of the pack messing his desk up proudly stood up. 

“Good kid, see you know when you’re in the wrong.”

“Yeah, smart like your father,” said the man at his desk about to pat him on the head. Immediately, he swatted the man’s hand away.

“...as I gather the audio logs for our lawyers to peruse and determine how much damage you’ve done to the company’s image.”

That silenced the room better than a dead body being found in it. 

“If you didn’t do anything wrong, you’ll have my apologies and a bonus for your troubles. But if you’ve damaged our image... well, a company’s face is priceless - but I can definitely try to get back some recompense.” 

He lifted a finger which everyone else in the room followed.

“That’s your first option. The other option is to resign quietly, and I will not pursue this in the future. You can take the time to think about it. 

“You can-”

“You’re all dismissed. If you linger around a second longer,” he glared at the group, “I’m going to assume you’re taking the first option and want to be escorted out.” 

Immediately, upon realizing who had the actual power in the room, the group of six began to scramble out of the room, but just as the bald-headed manager exited out the door, Whitley spoke up. The words caused the man to stiffen up.

“Except you. You don’t get an option, manager. You're fired. Wait to hear from my lawyers.” 

He steepled his fingers together, a vicious satisfied smile on his lips. 

________________________________________

4. Security Card

...Okay. That was scary. He honestly thought that baldy was going to hit him at the very end. In the future, he was going to have a bodyguard in the room or Klein just in case. He loosened his vest slightly, the cloth sticking to his back from the cold sweat.

It was weird though. Why did something like customer service go all the way up to the level of the President?

Wasn’t that something for managers or department heads to solve?

“Maybe it’s just a test from father,” Whitley spoke out loud. He shook his head.

Yeah, that was probably it. 

----

Little did he know that his carelessly stated statement was caught by a hidden camera in his room.

---- 

The next day he found a folder on his desk and a white card with the label of 00 on it. 

________________________________________

5. Assignment

“Hey, Klein,” Whitley asked cautiously as the loyal man handed him a glass of water, “Did father come into my room yesterday?” 

He didn’t know what to make of the butler at times or how to treat him. Father said never to treat the help too kindly or they’ll take advantage of it, but Klein was someone he knew since he was born. He’s never seen him be anything but loyal and attentive. He wasn’t like the people he just dealt with.

Maybe he would’ve just dismissed him as just the help, but after having seen a very recent example of two-faced people, he couldn’t quite agree with his father’s assessment of Klein.

“Your father has gone on va-,” the man paused upon seeing the contents on the desk, particularly the white card on his desk. “That card?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a card like this before,” Whitley replied, “What does it actually do?”

Klein stared at the card quietly before saying, “Only the Master of the House could’ve given you that card. It will open every lock and file in the Schnee Dust Company. It means the Master has given you authority second to them.”

“Father must really trust me after I got results, right?” he proudly stated as he started shuffling through the documents. In doing so, he missed Klein’s smile, both proud and pained at the same time. 

The cursory review made his self-praising words die in his throat.

“Wait...He wants me to solve all these?!” Whitley yelled. It wasn’t that the entire packet consisted of a single problem. The entire seventy-two page packet was a large list of overdue problems and documents that required his attention. 

“Where’s father?”

“He’s currently on vacation. He won’t be here for a month.”

“Didn’t he just go on vacation two weeks ago? There should be someone to substitute while he’s gone?” 

“...No, sir. This is how it always has been.”

“Haha. You’re joking. Or is this part of the test, Klein?” He laughed but it soon died on his throat, seeing the man’s grim face. 

 “I will not lie to you, young master.” Klein remarked before adding with a nudge of his head, “There’s a note.”

He’s right. There was. The script was in cursive; it would’ve been elegant and soft if it weren’t for the shakiness in it. 

‘You have the right idea. Sometimes problems need to find the right people.’

________________________________________

6. Delegation

This was stupid. The purchasing of toilet paper or whether it had to be 2-ply or 3-ply or setting the price of bubble-gum at the employee store did not need to pass through the president’s desk.

Hell. It’s like anything that involved the tiniest amount of money or required the slightest authority needed to make its way to his desk. 

This was not a functional solution. He’ll die of exhaustion by the end of the week if that continued.

And the answers from the department heads were incredibly unhelpful.

‘It has always been this way.’

But it hasn’t. Looking through the records only he could access, everything changed when his father inherited the company from his grandfather. His father first fired anyone that disagreed with him and then diverted anything that looked like it involved money up to the very top. Maybe it was important back then, but those measures certainly didn’t need to be used now. 

His father ruled with an iron fist when it came to the company. No one dared to challenge his authority now. 

His father was smart. Intelligent. These actions didn’t match that. Was this just another one of his tests? He wanted to believe that, but...

‘The only person you can trust is yourself. Everyone else can betray you. Even family. Only trust others if you have power over them, that is trust.’

...It did match what his father would do. And if there was nothing else he learned from all those official dinners and parties, he knew how to read people, especially his father and his mercurial temper. 

With how many of these documents have been untouched and unread, what exactly is his father doing? 

Come to think of it. When was the last time his father sat in front of a computer instead of going on vacation or to one of his many dinners with his business associates?

He shook his head. Impossible. His father definitely worked hard. How else would this company be standing if he was that neglectful? Maybe these files were just like the 5% of untouched work since he had so much wor-

His screen flickered as he clicked on another file. The pillar of red pointing downwards made him pale. 

[ next ]

#honorable-asshole #mod lilac #whitley schnee #willow schnee #rwby au #rwby fic #fwby #rising snow au

[misstrashchan]

Pyre/Greedling Meta:

I remember in the earlier volumes that a fair amount of people in the FNDM would compare Cinder to Lust from Fullmetal Alchemist, due to her femme fatale persona and voice seeming like an impression of Laura Bailey's Lust.

But as we learn more about Cinder and meet Salem in vol4, it's very clear that the version of herself she likes to present herself as is meant to come across as an impression, an imitation. Because she's trying to imitate Salem, the person who defines what power is to her.

And as that facade crumbles and we slowly start to see how deep Cinder's desires really run, it's far more clear to me that her character and story have much more in common with Greed, not Lust.

:read more:

Greed is the only homunculi who is willing to follow his deepest desires to the fullest, regardless of where that placed him. He was certainly willing to do evil, but wouldn't if that evil didn't personally benefit him. And, over time within the series, Greed comes to realise that his obsession with power, glory and seeking to become God, were nothing more than vain attempts to cover up his true emotional emptiness caused by a lack of connecting to others. And once he finds a cause and people to support who help and support him in turn, his character arc finishes with him, Greed, looking on all that he has, his friends, and is grateful. Content.

Which ties into the lesson of the Fall Maiden in the Tale of the Four Maidens in which Fall begs the Hermit to look around at all he has and be thankful. To be satisfied and content with oneself, which is a lesson Cinder has to learn in order to truly become a Fall Maiden.

Greed's desires are similar to Cinder's own ambition for power driven by her fear and insecurities, seeking to become a "godlike maiden badass" wanting to fill the emptiness and craving she feels, not yet realizing that this will not be what brings her true satisfaction to her, well, greed.

"Greed may not be good, but it's not so bad either. You humans think greed is just for money and power! But everyone wants something they don't have"

"You Atlas elites are all the same! You think hoarding power means you'll have it forever. But it just makes the rest of us hungrier! And I refuse to starve"."

I think it's very important to point out that Greed doesn't become good or redeem himself because he sees the error of his ways and wants to atone for the things he's done, rather he starts on the path to redemption by refusing to be a pawn to Father any longer, when realizing the power and glory he craves he wouldn't be able to obtain by staying and working underneath Father like the rest. His greed and dissatisfaction are what motivates him, though it is ultimately Ling who gives him the final push and convinces him to side with the protagonists.

And Cinder at the end of vol7 seems to be heading towards a crossroads of whether or not she'll stay with Salem, given how the Grimm arm that was "gifted" to her by Salem seems to be slowly consuming her body, she might have doubts about whether the kind of power Salem has promised her is really the kind of power she wants, and whether she's prepared to sacrifice herself to obtain it, or whether she could choose to strike out on her own. Again, some villains start on the path to redemption solely out of self interest.

It's also not just Greed's story I think Cinder's is remarkably similar to, but the stories of Ling and Pyrrha and the role they play in Greed and Cinder's stories, as their souls and stories are intrinsically intertwined.

The ouroboros tattoo and its meaning was the first thing that caught my attention, as it the ouroboros symbol represents eternal cyclical renewal. Of life, death and rebirth. And how that aligns with Pyrrha's incantation used to unlock Jaune's aura:

"For it is in passing we achieve immortality. Through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee"

Cinder also has a tattoo of her own symbol that appears after connecting to Amber's soul and taking half of her power, just like the ouroboros tattoo appearing after Greed and Ling's souls were intertwined and he had taken over his body. Cinder takes the other half of the maiden powers after Pyrrha had been bound to them as her and Amber's aura were intertwined, making it likely that Pyrrha is a part of Cinder in the same way Greed and Ling are.

Both Pyrrha and Ling are considered to be people in positions of power and prestige with great expectations placed on them that they intend to live up to. Ling as an Xingese prince, Pyrrha as a world renowned champion fighter and promising huntresses, the "invincible girl". Both agree to becoming a maiden/homuculus respectively, despite the inhumane means of doing so and risk to their body, soul and life, as they believe obtaining this power will help their people.

"We can't transfer Amber's power to you but we can give you what those powers are bound to."

"Her aura"

"Her life... would become intertwined with yours. The question is-"

"What's that gonna do to you?" - (RWBY Volume 3 Chapter 6)

Greed and Cinder's stories are body horror stories about what you'll sacrifice for power, and the power they are "gifted" by their masters, Father and Salem, is concentrated in their left arm.

Interestingly, Greed's power that transforms him into an inhuman monster is his "Ultimate Shield" that makes him invulnerable, which is the exact opposite of the "power" that Salem grants Cinder that slowly crawls up her left arm threatening to turn her into a monster makes her more vulnerable than most, because she doesn't have aura to protect those parts of her.

Both Greed and Cinder are the most defiant of their masters wishes, and often Father and Salem experience losses and failures because they underestimated Greed and Cinder's ambition. What should have been an easy win at Haven for Salem failed because Cinder was overly ambitious in her need to to win, to feel powerful, and Greed's betrayal of Father is simply because his own ambition is greater than his, thus he would never be content to work underneath him, to be less than him.

Both are charismatic individuals and good at convincing others to work with them. They like to surround themselves with others and both are the only ones under Father/Salem to have their own subordinates (Wrath doesn't count since it was always Father's intention to have him become Fuhrer). Despite them clearly needing human connection, their relationship with their loyal subordinates we are introduced to alongside them is... Not Super Great. They might care about them to a certain degree, but at the end of the day they ultimately view them as useful tools and possessions.

Both of them speak of an emptiness they feel inside of them:

"All of these souls inside of me, and yet I still feel so... empty"

"It's... an emptiness. It burns. Like a hunger."

It's ultimately Ling thst acts as Greed's consciousness, as when he doesn't show any remorse over killing Bido, the last of the old Greed's followers, on the orders of Father, Ling is the one who drags out all of his repressed emotion, being able to feel his pain and see his memories, he forces Greed to face them and how terribly he treated his "friends", and to reevaluate his priorities and self, pushing him away from Father.

"It's nothing personal. I'm just doing my job. I am sorry, honestly!"

"What have you done, Greed? Are you determined to prove you're a monster? What kind of sick creature... would kill his own friend!?"

"He wasn't my... friend..."

"Then why do you remember him? And are you gonna try and tell me Bido was just making everything up?"

"Those were the last Greed's memories! They're not mine!"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU IN SO MUCH PAIN!?

Pull yourself together, Greed. I'm warning you. I'll take this body back if you drop your guard"

"They aren't mine... Father purified me and purged the old Greed's memories. Those memories aren't a part of me any more!"

"No! You're wrong Greed! It's not that easy! They'll always be a part of you! You can't just erase them from your soul! They were the only part of you that you chose!"

"Look at them! Can you not hear their souls crying out? You abandoned them. Your real family! You threw them away like trash!"

"Fool. If you turned your back on something you wanted, YOU DON'T DESERVE TO CALL YOURSELF GREED!" (Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood episode 44, Greed and Ling)

If Pyrrha were to return, it's likely she would manifest and communicate more directly with Cinder than maiden predecessors usually do (though in all fairness we don't know the details of if maiden predecessors do or not), being more similar to Ozpin and Oscar's situation, rather than just being a part of her soul, because of how unnatural her interference with the fall maiden's power transfer was. The way Ozpin looks and speaks about it makes it clear he knows there is a very good chance he was recreating his own curse the GoL bestowed on him, and that this isn't like when he was the Hermit, giving his magic happily to the Maidens.

There's also the parallels between Ozma and Pyrrha's situations too, and how readily they accept their mission and fate, and in how they die, and I believe we still haven't seen the full payoff to those parallels with Pyrrha.

When Ozma reincarnates the first time, it's implied that he completely overtakes Ozma 2.0/ Oisín/Diggs (why do we have so many names for him), having not yet learned how to live with the souls with which he had been paired. It's not until much, much later when Oz is beginning to have doubts about whether he should stay with Salem , but still continues to go along with her plans that Oisín makes himself known, (and we know Ozma isn't used to him communicating with him with how suprised and shaken he is by this, which is strange considering he's been paired with him for a long while, unless Oisín hadn't made himself known before this) and is the one who finally pushes Ozma to leave Salem.

"What are we doing?"

With Cinder returning to Salem's side, full of doubt of whether she can go through with Salem's plan for her, to hurt and destroy herself for this power, and Emerald and Mecury (probably Neo too) likely betraying and cutting ties with Cinder too, which is going to leave her full of even more doubt, hurt, anger and additional feelings of betrayal and confusion. And more than anything, alone. Which would be the ideal time for Pyrrha to say to Cinder like with Ozma, "What are we doing?" To push her to reevaluate her priorities and self.

Imagine Pyrrha finally being able to manifest or communicate with Cinder, realizing she's bound to the woman who killed her. Knowing her emotions and memories in their entirety, feeling her pain and anger as if it were her own. And Ruby describing her as "Pyrrha thought that if there was even the smallest chance of helping someone that it was a chance worth taking" the Pyrrha who told Jaune "Everyone needs a little help sometimes" understanding what Cinder went through, and that if she couldn't save the world or make it better by attempting to kill Cinder, then, maybe as she is now, the one thing she can do to help save the world, to make it a better place, is by helping Cinder be better, helping her use her talents for good, like a true maiden should? (On a more fun note, imagining Pyrrha deciding to help Cinder but not missing any opportunity to be a playfully snarky little shit towards her. Because what is Cinder gonna do? Kill her again? Like tell me Pyrrha would not Do Both. And Cinder's not sure which she hates more: Pyrrha teasing her or feeling sorry for her)

Another interesting thing is how in The World of RWBY: The Official Companion states that Salem's goal is to possess all four relics, and to absorb the power of all the Maidens, which she means to at some point, absorb Cinder's power. It's likely part of why she favours Cinder and has such an intimate relationship with her (the Relic of Choice might have played a role in why Salem chose Cinder specifically) That transition of maiden powers from Cinder to Salem would be made much more seamless for Salem if she was grooming Cinder to be more like her, and was slowly becoming more Grimm, if she was treating Cinder like an extension of herself, because to Salem, she would be. Which is again, similar to Father and Greed, as Greed literally was an extension of Father created from him, and absorbed back into him when he became too disobedient and remade and reborn again.

The finale of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood has Father absorbing Greed's philosopher's stone in an attempt to claim his power, but Greed ends up sacrificing himself by inverting his Ultimate Shield inside of Father, making his whole body incredibly fragile and vulnerable so Ed is able to defeat him. In the end, Greed ends up being the key to their victory against Father.

I want to make it clear that I don't personally think RWBY will end with Cinder dying or "defeating" Salem. At least, not in the traditional sense. I can draw as many comparisons as I like between Greed and Cinder but at the end of the day they're two different stories with different themes. And I don't believe that kind of ending would align with RWBY's. One of the themes of Cinder's story is to find a way to keep living no matter what. And as for Salem, the only way she can "die" is to learn the value of life and death, which would require a much more different approach.

But either way, I do believe Cinder will end up being their key to victory one way or another, similar to Greed.

#rwby #pyre #greedling #cinder fall #greed the avaricious #ling yao #pyrrha nikos #fullmetal alchemist: brotherood #fullmetal achemist #rwby theory #rwby meta #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood spoilers #I AM SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO HAD TO SCROLL THROUGH THIS ALL #I I DON'T HAVE A LAPTOP SO I CAN'T PUT A READ MORE LINK IN MY POSTS ON MY PHONE #thank you to anyone who might have read my dumb long analysis #I've had this in my head for a while but I get really nervous about sharing my thoughts and making long posts like this #so thank you

[aspoonofsugar]

I was happy to discover you are in ATLA fandom too. Could you please share your thoughts on Azula? I like your analyses

Hello anon!

Thank you very much for the nice words and for this ask! I love Azula!

I think Azula’s character explores the idea of control:

In The Avatar State, she is shown training to master “lightening”. There, it is shown how losing control of even a small detail, like a lock of hair, is enough to make Azula angry.

It is not by chance that such a scene occurs in an episode focused on the Avatar State. As a matter of fact the Avatar State and the lightening can (partially) be compared when it comes to Aang and Zuko’s stories in book two. This book opens up with Aang trying to enter the Avatar State and with the lightening being introduced thanks to Azula’s character. What is more, both Aang and Zuko try to get a hold of the two different techniques throughout the season. Finally, both skills need for the user to “let go” of their feelings.

In particular, when it comes to the lightening, there are two different ways to interpret this:

Iroh: There is energy all around us. The energy is both Ying and Yang. Positive energy and negative energy. Only a select few firebenders can separate these energies. This creates an imbalance. The energy wants to restore balance and, in the moment the positive and negative energy come pressing back together, you provide release and guidance...creating lightening. (...) Remember, once you separate the energy you do not command it. You are simply its humble guide.”

Iroh: “Lightening is a pure expression of fire-bending without aggression. It is not fueled by rage or emotion the way other firebending is. Some call lightening the cold blooded fire. It is precise precise and deadly, like Azula. To perform the technique requires peace of mind.”

On one hand Iroh’s description is interesting because it is as if creating lightening is a process of synthesis. You separate opposites and have them come back together, so that they can gain a new form. So it makes sense that, thematically, this new synthesis can happen only if the character overcomes their inner turmoil. This is also why Zuko is not able to learn the skill:

Iroh: “You will not be able to master lightening until you have dealt with the turmoil inside you.”

Zuko: “What turmoil!?”

Iroh: “Zuko, you must let go of your feelings of shame if you want your anger to go away.”

In order to acquire it, he should let go of his shame, but he can’t do it. The fact that “shame” is what stops Zuko from making progress is interesting. As explained by Guru Pathick, thus, the fire chakra is the chakra of will and it is polluted by shame.

On the other hand the lightening is called cold-blooded firebending because it can be realized only by benders whose emotions are kept in check. I would argue that this is the reason why Azula is able to use this skill. It is not that she has reached a level of emotional maturity which lets her become a  “humble guide” to the energy. It is just that she constantly represses her feelings. This repression gives the idea that she is in perfect control, but this impression is a superficial one and it is proven wrong towards the end of the story.

In short, Zuko is not able to use lightening because of his explosive emotions, while Azula is able to because she restricts her feelings. Let’s highlight that this difference between the two siblings comes up again in a key episode aka The Beach:

Once again Zuko’s emotions are in full display. He is angry and nervous. He might not know why, but he is. Moreover he is finally able to express himself thanks to a confrontation with the other members of the group. Finally he does so while a giant fire erupts to highlight the catharsis of the moment. When it comes to Azula, she too opens up a little. In particular, she lets this slip:

Azula: I don't have sob stories like all of you. I could sit here and complain how our mom like Zuko more than me. But I don't really care. My own mother... thought I was a monster... She was right of course, but it still hurt.

Azula thinks that Ursa saw her as a monster. It is clear that the unsolved issues with her mother have left a sign on her. However, when she has the chance to truly let it all out, she does not. She changes the tone of the conversation and immediately leaves the topic. However, this does not mean that she is not troubled. If anything, her emotions keep burning behind a cold exterior, exactly like the fire, which burns under the ashes. Almost invisible, but still there.

About this, let’s consider two things.

1) In The Beach episode, Azula does something similar here:

Azula: “Come down to the beach with me. Come on! This place is depressing.”

Zuko starts talking about their past and their family, but Azula does not engage in the conversation and tells him to leave.

2) When Azula opens up, the others do not challenge her. They do not ask her what she meant nor they try to contradict what she said. This is different from what they have just done with each other. All in all, Zuko openly provokes Ty Lee and Ty Lee, Zuko and Azula all provoke May, until she shouts. Finally, all the girls keep asking Zuko who he is really angry with, until he is finally able to answer.

These two considerations can be linked to more general ideas.

a) Azula is a person who needs to always be in control. This has two consequences. The first is that she never lets herself be vulnerable. She is always on guard and closed up to others. The second is that she is like a fish out of water when there is nothing to control.

This is made clear in the episode The Beach:

Zuko: “Doing nothing is a waste of time. We are being sent a way in a force vacation. I feel like a child.”

In this episode, Azula and the others are given a break. However, Azula, just like Zuko, is not really able to take a break.

She is on an island and should relax, but the only way she manages to do so is by finding new enemies:

She must continually challenge herself and must change everything in a competition (and win it) in order not to face how empty she feels. This is why, in the end, her solution to the insecurities the beach re-awakens in her is to trash a party. She can’t fit in a group of pampered teenagers, so she ruins their evening. However, what Azula should really do is to try to understand why she does not fit.

The episode shows that Azula is ignorant when it comes to casual relationships:

Azula: “I am so used to people worshipping us”.

Ty Lee: “They should!”

Azula: “I know and I love it. But for once I just wanna see how people would react to us if they did not know who we were.”

She says so directly. She has been worshipped all her life. However, this means she does not know how people react to her outside of her role as a princess and a military leader.

The military aspect is especially interesting because, even if she does not disclose her identity as a royal, her attempts to bond are all centered around military topics:

Azula: “That's a sharp outfit, Chan. Careful, you could puncture the hull of an empire-class Fire Nation battle ship, leaving thousands to drown at sea. Because... it's so sharp.”

Azula: “Together you and I will be... THE STRONGEST COUPLE IN THE WHOLE WORLD! We will dominate the Earth!”

Her life has been a long training session for war, so she does not really know anything else. This is obvious both in how she can’t talk about other things and in how she sees others not like people, but like enemies/rivals.

This is also why the vacation in Amber Island could have been very important if Azula had been able to properly capitalize on it. All in all, The Beach is the episode where Azula is shown the most vulnerable (not counting the finale where she has a complete break-down).

She tries to change her approach to go along with others:

Azula: “Well that sounds really shallow and stupid...Let’s try it!

She openly apologizes and shows her insecurities:

“Look...maybe I just said it because I was a little...jealous.”

However, all of this is not enough to change the trajectory of her arc. Why is that so? This has to do with another aspect of Azula’s controlling tendencies. As a matter of fact not only does she controls herself, but also others.

b) Azula is presented since the beginning as a highly manipulative character. Manipulation is at the root of all her major relationships:

Zuko:You lied to me!

Azula: Like I've never done that before.

She lies to Zuko to catch him and forces Ty Lee to join her through manipulation. Moreover most of her plans rely on manipulation and lies. However, if you try to control and manipulate others you are unable to build healthy relationships.

This is what happens to Azula. As stated above, nobody replies to Azula when she opens up. Zuko could have very easily told her Ursa loved them both. May and Ty Lee could have tried to comfort her somehow. However, nobody does. And nobody does because they are all scared of Azula. In her attempt to control everybody, Azula has negated herself the chance to have  a relationship among equals.

What is more, it is clear that it is impossible to fully control others. The Beach starts to show this through Azula’s attempts to flirt. Without her status as a princess, her peers do not behave like she wants. She might be able to hook up with a guy by rehearsing and applying a strategy. However, building a relationship is not a military operation. It is not something that can be done through control, but only through respect and trust.

Azula fails to do so and this is why she is left behind by others. She is left behind by Zuko who breaks free from their father. She is left behind by Mai and Ty Lee who choose healthier relationships over the one they have with her. After she loses them, Azula starts spiralling out of control and burns everything around her.

In short, I would say that Azula’s main flaw is “control”. She wants to control everyone, herself included. So in the end she is betrayed and left behind by people and she herself loses control:

Ursa: I think you're confused. All your life you've used fear to control people. Like your friends Mai and Ty Lee.

Azula:Well what choice do I have? Trust is for fools! Fear is the only reliable way. Even you fear me.

This is especially tragic because it is clear that Azula’s behaviour is her answer to an environment where a clear line was drawn between winners and losers. Azula has always been Ozai’s favourite, but Ozai has never loved her. He loves Azula’s talent, so Azula cultivates those qualities which make her accepted by her father. What is more, Ozai is not a character who values feelings or emotions, so Azula represses these aspects of herself.

In conclusion, I think Azula is a very tragic character and that her spiral was very well written and realistic. I also think that in the series itself she has shown the potential to change for the better, but this possibility has not been explored. I mean, if she had no guilt nor regrets about her behaviour, she would not have seen the hallucination of her mother calling her out.

These are more or less my major thoughts on Azula. There are probably many other things to add, but as far as my generic impressions of her go, this is what I have to say. Feel free to make more specific questions! I love her!

Thank you for the ask!

#atla #azula #asksfullofsugar #anonymous

[lore-of-the-silvereyes-rwby]

You had me with your words but you lost me with your action

This section will relate to the main theme of Volume 7(Trust) and how it relates to Ironwood. Basically despite all of his talk about cooperation and trust he has always been the one that has both rejected and withheld the most of these 2 concepts. Now some of this can be related to his questionable upbringing and past violent experiences. But the core idea is that for all his talk and promises he has never once kept them or bothered to see the error of his ways. As stated before his actions have done more harm than good.

He demands that his subordinates follow his orders without question because he thinks he is right and will always be right.  And he never once afforded Ozpin that same loyalty, trust, or authority.  Since his debut in the show, he was constantly questioning Ozpin’s choices, even though HE was the subordinate to Ozpin.  Kinda hypocritical given his demand for it. He thought differently from Ozpin and could never accept Ozpin’s ways, nor listen to them.  He expected the council, Ozpin, his soldiers, and the main heroes to follow him without question and he truly, honestly believes he is right.  This is scary, especially when you compare him to Ozpin, but I will get to that in a moment.  The big point is that people who are so sure that they are right, even if they are dead wrong, are the scariest adversaries.  

What we have here is a narcissist with a superiority complex who can not accept that he is wrong. He was unbalanced since he came into the picture, and Ozpin knew it.  But here is where things get interesting.

Prior to the fall of beacon Ironwood condemns Ozpin’s choices for keeping things secret and not sharing with the world everything.  And, yes, Ironwood does the EXACT same thing after the fall of Beacon.  The difference here is in intention.  Ozpin’s purpose was to protect the people and ensure that as few people died as possible.  Ozpin’s choices were not based on control or the need to be RIGHT.  They were based on experience, a bit of fear, and concern for the people he needed to protect.  To Ozpin, sacrifice on a great scale was never an option.  He tried his best to make sure that the causalities were as limited as possible.  A difficult thing to do, given that hunters and huntresses were constantly fighting Grimm and such.  But  creating a mythos around the Maidens and eliminating Salem from history allowed him to save many many lives.  And I can guarantee that he attempted what Ironwood planned to do, at least on some levels, and met with staggering deaths.

Ironwood, however, is keeping secrets to keep control and out of fear.  He needs control, and he is frustrated that people do not agree with him automatically.  After the fall of Beacon, these traits became enhanced to an unbelievable level.  We see something else surface, though: Ironwood’s ability to manipulate people and be charismatic.  Ironwood is looking to survive: for himself( or his legacy that is Atlas).  He will manipulate others and sacrifice millions of people’s lives to protect himself (legacy), though he clings to his mantra of “it’s for the greater good.”  It will become the sign on the wall of the slave labor he creates. “For the Greater Good”.

Another thing you can do to really get an idea for the type of person Ironwood is, is by looking back to the round table discussions orchestrated by Ozpin versus Ironwood.  Ozpin was constant in listening to his people, sometimes taking ideas from them, and allowed them to question him–even yell at him.  He was patient and understood what they were trying to say.  He demonstrated this with Ironwood and Qrow the most.

You would never see that kind of discussion with Ironwood.  RWBY and co are new to the scene and it does throw him off.  You can tell he is trying not to pressure them too much because he knows they are not on his side yet. Hooking them up with the Ace-Corps and Winter was a move to help sway them more, a subtle kind of brainwashing tactic that never worked on them as he had hoped.

“You're a good person, James. You've always done what you think is best for the people, even against strong protest. It's admirable. But it's high time you stopped talking about trust and started showing it.”

—Glynda, to Ironwood in "Mountain Glenn"

“This is the right move, Ozpin. I promise, I will keep our people safe; you have to trust me.”

—Ironwood, to Ozpin

“Many have described these as uncertain times. And while that may be the case for the rest of the world, I can tell you what is certain: the Kingdom of Atlas will remain strong... and it will remain safe. That is my promise.”

—General Ironwood, reaffirming his promise to the people of Atlas over the Atlas Broadcast System

“I will sacrifice... whatever it takes... to stop her.”

—Ironwood, declaring his conviction to Watts

How many of these promises did he actually keep and how much trust did he give?

According to Jacques, Ironwood does not trust anybody but himself, something that Ironwood does not deny; instead, he believes that his methods are justified. This leads Ironwood to a more proactive yet headstrong approach to problems, attempting more preemptive measures, as opposed to Ozpin's more subtle, reactive and analytical methods.

Ironwood's heroism is because of his lack of trust - he has to do everything himself, no matter what, because he doesn't trust anyone else to do it.

He doesn't trust others because he thinks of himself as the hero, that only he can do things right, that everything that goes wrong is because people didn't listen to him.

Following Orders was also another theme of this volume, but it was hinted at back in V2 and other interactions between him and his subordinates.  This is a huge red flag when RWBY and co come to him in Volume 7. Ironwood has surrounded himself with Yes men, people who only follow orders and never once question them.  It is a dynamic theme throughout this volume, about controlling and crushing down your emotions to follow orders–or manage your semblance? Winter started alluding to this back in V3, which really set the stage for her and future Atlas soldiers.

Because of this Ironwood is often portrayed as the least worst character while in a company of other worst characters( or other Atlasians and antagonists to be specific)

For example Volume 4 chapter 2; Remembrance; we see Ironwood and Weiss after the fall with Jaques Schnee.

This is our first proper onscreen interaction with these characters that allows us to explore their new dynamic after beacon. From a visual standpoint we can sorta see Ironwood being somewhat humble after his failure at beacon but really he hasn’t changed from the arrogant warmonger that he is from his debut.(I’ll explain that later)

During his meeting with Jaques is where we get this misdirection of his character due to the exposition from their conversation. Ironwood talks about the dust(trade) embargo being necessary as to ease tensions with the other kingdoms due to Atlas being framed is an understandable and reasonable decision in comparison to Jaques argument being that it's costing him potential Millions of world currency to profit from. The meeting ends with Ironwood leaving before making a proposal to weiss which leads to this line of dialogue with her father;

“I suppose the council trusts him, for better or worse.”

—Jacques, in "Remembrance

“I trust him.”

—Weiss Schnee, responding to her father's bad faith

Just like that the fandom is being swayed to see Ironwood in a more positive light for 3 reasons

Because best girl Weiss trusts him

Because Jaques is a greedy a**hole(As well as other Atlaisans)

Because Ironwood sides with her against the rich(V4 ep.6)

But the question that must be asked here is why does Weiss trust Ironwood?

Prior to Volume 4 she has had little to no interaction with the General. Her only point of reference for his character is only whatever Winter has told her about him, the Military propaganda and her first scene with him when he chastised and disqualified  Yang and her team in Volume 3(potentially her first real and true friends by the way)

If we were to add in the factor of Ironwood's incompetence and failure at beacon, Weiss should really have no real reason to trust Ironwood who she should see as the reason why beacon fell since it was his army that he brought only to be used by the villains to kill her and her friends and destroy beacon. As well as the man who’s failure had led her back into the custody of her father.(Remember she went to Beacon to get away from his abuse) She should at least harbour some sense of Scorn or resentment for him.

The Only reason why she apparently doesn’t is because her father was in that scene. Who prior to his debut was hinted to be a greedy abusive bastard. So just like winter she sides with Ironwood simply to defy her father. The difference between her and winter though is that she doesn’t see him as a potential father figure that he may have presented himself as when he first met winter. Instead she sees him as someone she would prefer to be around instead of her father.

This is further explored during Volumes 5 & 6 where Ironwood was absent leaving her free to continue throwing shade at Jaques, Whitelty, etc. To reiterate Weiss is not pro Ironwood because she thinks he might be a good guy. She is pro Ironwood to spite and defy her abusive father.

We possibly covered what was going on in the mind of the ice queen during volume 4 that had allowed her mind(as well as us) to be swayed to favor Ironwood. Now we will cover how she ( and the audience) was wrong by relooking at Ironwoods character by the end of Volume 4( his last on scene appearance before his return in V7)

Since Ironwood was largely absent from Volumes 5 & 6 and only mentioned during those volumes we were left with our opinion of him  after V4 to hold us over till his return in V7. The problem however is that we only had 3 scenes and one mention of him during the whole of volume 4. So what are those 4 moments of Ironwood that you may ask? In order they are;

His first argument with Jaques where Weiss sides with him

Taiyang telling Yang that it was him who gifted her a new arm(For whatever reason?)

Ironwood siding and defending Weiss against the rich a##holes of Atlas

His second argument with Jaques while Weiss escapes, where he reaffirms his power to the greedy bastard

This is literally the entirety of Ironwood's impact on the story during volume 4. Not much if you were to think about it.  But if you did you would come to realise that all of it was a major red hearing for his character. For you see at the start of this volume we were led to believe that Ironwood had changed for the better after his failure at beacon, but in truth he didn’t.

To further explain let's look at the narrative symmetry of his arc during the volume. It starts with him arguing with Jaques and ends with an  argument with the same man with both arguments ending with Ironwood on top Winning the argument. The difference between the two is how Ironwood is portrayed. The first argument as stated before tricks us into believing that Ironwood has become humble and wiser after his failure. But the second shows us the truth. Ironwood hadn’t changed at all. Instead it shows us that he is still as blunt and arrogant as he was during Volumes 2 & 3.  To best explain let's look at the transcripts of the argument;

Weiss is soon creeping outside her father's study door when she hears a glass crash followed by the rising voice of James Ironwood. She crouches behind a cushioned chair against the wall.

Ironwood: You need to control yourself!

Jacques: You're talking to me about control? Do you even hear what you're saying?

Ironwood: I am basing everything on my reports from your daughter.

Jacques: A daughter you stole!

Weiss moves closer to the door to listen.

Ironwood: Oh, we are not getting into that again.

Jacques: Oh, yes, we have far more pressing matters to discuss, starting with your apparent lunacy!

Ironwood: Jacques!

The scene changes to an overhead view inside Jacques' study. He is seated at his desk while Ironwood has both hands on it, leaning over him from the other side.

Ironwood: (sighing heavily) Winter is one of my best. If she's telling me there's a threat in Mistral then I am not going to take that news lightly. She's been there for weeks, people are mobilizing, sudden spikes in weapons and Dust trades. Someone is about to make a play and I do not trust Leo to stop them.

From this first half of the scene we are only shown the middle and near end of the argument and we are left to interpret what led to this escalation of opinions. Prior to this we are swayed to believe that Ironwood is in the right while Jaques is in the wrong. But before we are shown the cause of the argument via its resolution, we get this interesting bash from Jaques claiming that Ironwood stole her from him(or to be accurate her family).

I find this interesting because we don’t exactly know why Winter would be so loyal to Ironwood to the point of saying that her life doesn’t matter in V7 and why she would be so against her family to the point that she makes no effort to see Weiss, and Whitely included and only bothering to be apart of weiss’s life only because she seems to be following the same path of defiance against their father. In other words she only chooses to interact with her sister only if she is rebelling against their father. If she is not, then WInter wants nothing to do with her.

Now who or what exactly would cause Winter to have this unhealthy mindset in regards to her own personal existence and relationships?

The answer being Ironwood.

If we were to consider Jaques words being serious than it is more than likely the truth. Ironwood did steal Winter, not just from her father but from the rest of her family. I don’t know what exactly Ironwood said or did to turn winter away from her family but it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart. He did this  just to have a loyal subordinate with incredible power( her hereditary semblance) & status( her grandfather's legacy and accomplishments) just to give his power and status more legitimacy.

By doing so Ironwood had brainwashed Winter into believing that her family as well as herself is beyond redemption due to the actions of her father thus leading her to abandon them and only believing Ironwood can redeem her hence why she values her life so little and is willing to die for whatever Ironwoods says.

Now we move on to the next part of the first half where Ironwood doesn’t trust Leo to handle the situation in Mistral. He first starts this off by listing all of the things that obviously would be of concern in regards to potential riots and war. Understandable and reasonable to be ready for an attack. Especially for a paranoid military leader. But here’s the thing: this is a foreign affair that has to be resolved by the people over there. In other words, that is Leo's problem to resolve, not Ironwood’s. (Keep in mind this is Ironwood before he is told the truth about Leo.)

Lionheart who is also another member of Ozpin's inner circle like him is trusted with the safety of an entire kingdom. The difference between the 2 however is how leo seems to be a most trusted member of the group given how fondly Ozpin speaks of him to the point of giving him gifts as well as being trusted with full autonomy trust, and independence in comparison to the scorn and micromanagement Ironwood gets from Ozpin and the other members(Qrow Glynda, Theo, Etc).

In other words Ironwood should at least have some trust in Leo's abilities to handle the situation in Mistral before he learns of his betrayal. But instead he claims he doesn’t and says that he could handle the situation better. Remember this is before either we or Ironwood are shown that plot twist and betrayal. For all we know when Ironwood said that Leo may have been a decent guy.  This is just simply another example of Ironwood’s ego and need for control being shown but in a subtle way that we don’t even notice

We covered the first half now we will continue with the rest of the scene.

Weiss is listening outside.

Jacques: You've never trusted anyone other than yourself!

Ironwood: (shouting) And for good reason!

Weiss covers her mouth with her hand as she gasps at the sound of Ironwood slamming his fist onto the desk.

Ironwood: If Oz had just listened to me from the start...

Jacques: You need to get a grip.

Ironwood: That's exactly what I'm doing. Our people need protection. By this time next week, the Kingdom of Atlas will be officially closing its borders. No one in; no one out. Without the council's permission.

Jacques: You mean, without your permission?

Ironwood: And if that becomes the case, I would think you'd want to be on my good side.

Ironwood walks away from the desk, leaving Jacques to sigh and fold his hands.

Those first 3 lines help better clarify that despite all of the apparent good Ironwood did during the volume it exposes the truth that hasn’t changed and he is still the same narcissist authoritarian from Volumes 2 & 3. As well as a potential foreshadow of his nihilism as he ignores and rejects the fact that it was his fault beacon fell and instead chooses to continue blaming Ozpin; who if he had it his way with dealing with the events of volume 3 wouldn’t have been as disastrous as when Ironwood had his way. Simply put had Ozpin had his way continued;

Beacon possibly wouldn’t have fallen

A droid army wouldn’t have been used to frame an entire kingdom

Global communications would probably still be a thing

Fewer people would have died

Trade would still be a thing as well

The threat of another world war could have been avoided

Instead Ironwood pulled a power move against Ozpin, and it backfired immensely. Instead of learning from his mistake he chooses to blame others for his mistake  and fails to realize that he is doing more harm than good.

To continue with the rest of the scene where Ironwood tells Jaques that he will be closing the borders and that nobody can leave or enter without the council's approval leads to  Jaques pointing out that he really means with his permission, only for Ironwood to taunt jaques in a smug gloat to tell the greedy bastard that he has already won. The final line of that scene is probably the highlight of Ironwood’s ego being stroked as he (in his mind) has crushed and won against the last of his local opposition. It also shows us that Ironwood had amassed too much power and that it has further validated his mind into believing his own hype regardless of what the sane and reasonable characters are saying.

Now it is pretty clear Ironwood has a very toxic mindset and very manipulative personality, but why is it that after volume 4 we consider him to be a good guy till the events of V7 even though his last scene in V4 clearly shows that he is still the same as V2 & V3 Ironwood?

The reason being that his last scene was confronting Jaques Schnee who earlier had slapped his daughter in the face, revoked her inheritance, and was only presented as a corporate d##chebag. Because of this we the viewer would rather side with anyone that isn’t Jaques Schnee. But in that schnee we are tricked to side with a Paranoid Warmonger who had only a few good moments to make us believe he had changed for the better against a man who was presented as one of the most awful characters of this volume. But in truth they were both terrible when it came to morality and eventually we had to pick a side and we the audience chosen wrong(Jaques is still a villain no argument there but I think we would have no problem beating his @$$ vs getting destroyed if we challenged Ironwood on his bull$#17)

“His heart is in the right place. He's just... misguided.”

—Ozpin, about Ironwood in "Never Miss a Beat"

“Sometimes, I'm not even sure he has a heart.”

—Qrow, about Ironwood in "Never Miss a Beat"

Back in V2 and V3, Ironwood showed his ability to be both charismatic and manipulative. His subtlety in his manipulation is a statement to his rise to power.  He puts himself into the position of a Father Figure to lure in the people he wants.  It worked with Winter and the Ace-Ops, which is why they are his right-hand yes men. During Dance Dance, he was praising Ruby and fueling her admiration for him.  Even when team RWBY came to Atlas, all his actions were calculated to manipulate the team into trusting him.  Unfortunately, his actions never really lined up with his words, which was why the team was on edge.

“people only did wrong when at the moment the perceived benefits seemed to outweigh the costs.”

This is exactly what ironwood did.

To Ironwood, the world cannot be saved without Atlas(or to be accurate him). He truly believes he and Atlas are the key to victory against Salem. But Victory is not in a single person, group or in strength of power. Victory is only achieved by cooperation, teamwork and in unity.

(real quick i want to give credit to @rwby-etc for they're post that I used to help better summerize this section)

I am power I am due process I will smite

#rwby #world of remnant #general ironwood #james ironwood #rwby ironwood #rwby analysis #rwby spoilers #rwby theory #jaques schnee #winter schnee #weiss schnee #qrow branwen #rwby ozpin #lie ren #rwby ruby rose #rwby atlas #rwby mantle #rwby ace ops #Ironwood analysis

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 56

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Peach led the way towards the bunker. It looked mostly the same as the one built near Mistral. Dented in places from the Grimm, a sign that there was nobody home. Merlot wasn't here at least at first inspection.

The front entrance was just sitting open, though. It wasn't torn into like I would have done. It seemed from an open fuse box that somebody had wired their way inside.

They had to know about electronics much more than I did to do something like that. And it wasn't likely that Merlot would have to wire his way into his own facilities. Unlikely but not impossible. Especially if he hadn't visited in a while.

A harsh wind howled around us. It was quickly whipping up into a blizzard. I pulled my pipe out and smoked it. I struggled to get my lighter to work and I sniffled against the cold.

"This is it. But it wasn't open the last time I was here," Peach said. "Well not here here but near enough to see it."

"Stay here Peach. Be on your guard," I returned. "I'm not sure what we'll find inside. Merlot is rather famous for his experiments on the Grimm."

"On the Grimm? Why?"

"Why indeed. I suspect that he likes it but I haven't had the chance to talk to him about it. Maybe that changes today."

I rather doubted it but it was always possible that he was really here. Somebody had wired that door open.

Neo took a step forward and together we walked into the laboratory. Some Grimm had made their way inside and we collapsed on them easily. I pulled my shorter longsword and Neo used her stiletto. I cut down a creeper and paced my way over a hexagonal tiled floor. The lights were on unlike the last place we'd been to so I didn't need to use my soul to cast light on the place.  

A Beowulf came upon me and I easily sliced it and it disintegrated into ash and the usual Grimm goo. My heavy boot falls rang out against the tile. Even Neo's heels disturbed the sound of the place with little clacks. It was as somber as a crypt inside.

I stomped on a Creeper. I easily crushed the small monster under my heavy boot. They'd gotten inside and had started to tear the place up a little. Some of the glass tubes were broken and frayed wires sparked.

I felt a warning in my soul. My sixth sense called out to me.

"Someone is here. Or was here very recently," I murmured to Neo. There were giant tubes and inside them were Creepers. They were frozen in a strange blue fluid. It wasn't glowing from within like the experiments in Mistral had been, however.

It was incredibly macabre, even these monsters in the tubes rather than the malformed 'human' Grimm of Mistral. The chamber we were currently in was tall and triangular. But it went on past these white and blue suspension pods and deeper inside. Large electrical lights were on above us. They must be dust run, this far from civilization.

The laboratory had to be totally independent of the rest of Atlas and Solitas.

A creeper oozed from the blue liquid from one of the recently broken pods. It was blue instead of white but only in places. The transformation was splotchy and incomplete unlike the green ones we'd run into near Mistral.

It let out a groaning noise and crawled toward me and I put my sword down through it and into the hexagonal tiles. The ground sparked beneath where I sliced it up after the Grimm dissolved into goo and died.

A voice was coming from further in. A low male voice from the baritone of it.

"Come on. Let's see who's up ahead."

As I walked I sliced apart the tubes we came across with Creepers in them. They disgusted me. Perhaps I saw a bit of the experiment that had created me in these. It made my blood boil with hatred. Not just for the Grimm and their ilk but also for Merlot. And for whoever was making noise up ahead.

It also, and I realized that it probably wasn't healthy, made me hate myself.

I didn't like me. That had been true before I learned the kind of monster I really was. I wasn't my biggest fan. I hated what I had to do to get by.

Even before I killed Ren and Nora I hadn't been fond of me. I'd gotten what I deserved more often than I had bad luck. I was disgusted with myself. At Beacon, I hated my weakness. I think that was when it really started.

When Ruby loved me I couldn't believe it. How could she? How dare she, an angel like her, love a monster like me. How could she do that to me? It was, in a self detrimental way, incredibly cruel of her to care about me so. Even before I knew what I was I had been like that. I loathed myself and it fucking showed sometimes.

But then again smoking wasn't healthy and I was doing that. I was also hell bent on this path of revenge. Had been bent on revenge for a long time now, between Cinder and Merlot. I probably just figured something else would kill me long before smoking did. My lifestyle plus the enemies I had made ensured that I was probably going to die young. Salem sort of sealed that deal for me, too, by being an immortal goddess.

My self hatred was there. It was present even in the things that I loved and in the relationships I formed with the people who loved me.

Then I started killing people. I became good at it too. I hated me for that even more than ever. I hated hiding it from Ruby when I killed Eminence and her Seifer.

Now that I knew that I had been right to hate me all along though… now that I knew I really truly was a monster… Now that I was doomed to die fighting with a goddess in my brain after she made me kill my team I just had all the more reason to hate myself.

If before I didn't like me, then of late I despised myself.

I tortured people now. I hurt them because I could and they… they couldn't stop me. I'd chosen blood and violence and when Wutai burned I'd thought about finishing the job just because I could and they couldn't stop me.

I wanted to kill Raven Branwen. She'd never done anything to me personally. Except through Vernal she'd never done me wrong but I wanted her dead all the same. Still, I wanted her dead. She'd only narrowly escaped me and I hungred for her blood as much as I did any of the others just because I could. I knew it was wrong.

I wanted to destroy Cinder Fall. I wanted to eviscerate her for all that she had done. For what she did to me personally when she took Pyrrha from me. Whatever could have been, whatever had been supposed to be, it was no more because of her. She took that from me. I was robbed.

Her minions like Emerald and Mercury would have to go too. That went without saying but they weren't at the top of my list of people to nix. If I ran across them and they got got, so be it. But I wasn't hunting them like I was the others.

Tyrian I had killed for so much as looking at Ruby wrong. The wounds he'd left on my body was meaningless beside what he had wanted to do to her. He tried to take her from me and bring her to Mother. He had to die for that. He did die for that, whether he himself knew that before the end was irrelevant.

Ren and Nora wouldn't want this for me. Pyrrha wouldn't have wanted this for me. She wouldn't have wanted me to seek my revenge against Cinder either but damn it, I wanted that too.

I'd chosen blood over friendship in my heart a long, long time ago. Especially relative to how old I was. One year old and I was committed to revenge.

Ruby's love had been too much for my Grimm blackened heart to bear. In my depths I wanted the boot and the sword. I wanted it.

Mother needed to go too. I wasn't sure how yet. I wasn't sure when but she'd suffer by my hand. As much as she was capable of suffering. However much that was she would experience it. I was going to cut her into pieces.

She had her fingers in my brain. It made me want to slam my head into the wall over and over. There was nothing I could do about it. Her claws were in me. Nothing could keep me safe from her. I was born doomed to go through this.

My cursed father Merlot who even now I hunted would also know my spirit. He would know what it meant to bring a monster into this world. He would know what he had truly wrought. How dare he? How could he?

It was all their fault and I hated them as much as I hated myself. I was a sword. I was meant for this vendetta. My power which allowed me to grow stronger with each beat of my hatred would allow me to strike them down.

We grew closer to the voice. A low aristocratic murmur. It was distant in this place and echoing beside our footfalls. We would be upon the source at any moment.

I suspected it wasn't Merlot but it could be. It could be… and then I'd give him to Neo. Or worse or something, anything worse. I'd split his limbs. I'd tear his eyes from his skull. I'd-I'd… I was working myself up into a tizzy.

I exhaled lowly and slowed my beating heart. It wouldn't do me any good to get jumpy. I breathed in and out, nice and deep as we crept up on our target.

This hall contained suspended Beowulfs now. I continued to spear them. I refused to be cornered by these monsters should the worst come to pass. Whatever purpose my father had intended the blue fluid to have on them was rendered utterly meaningless. Just as I would one day rend his heart.

I moved around a corner, and out a blast door. I came out into a huge open room sword and shield at the ready. I gazed up over a series of computers up at a man in a deep navy blue suit trimmed in yellow. He was speaking into a scroll and abruptly stopped at my presence.

He tapped a few buttons on one of the computers and a shimmering barrier appeared between us. Sealing me and Neo into the cavernous room and himself in the smaller control room.

"And who are you?" His voice boomed into speakers that surrounded me.

"Are you Merlot?" I demanded.

He laughed. "No, I'm not mad Merlot. Now what's your name?"

"I'm Jaune Arc," I announced.

"You… you're Merlot's creation. You're Salem's son!"

I glowered through the barrier at him. "I gave you my name. What's yours?"

"You have… you have the relic of knowledge! I thought your sisters would reclaim it."

"You know my sisters?" I demanded.

"My boy," he drawled. "I created your sisters. In my own laboratory. I suppose if Merlot is your 'father' then I am your 'step-father.'"

I stared at him. "Your name."

"I don't see the point in giving my name to a failure . In fact, I don't see much point in continuing this conversation. I will be taking that relic, however."

"Not from in there, you're not." I glared and turned my semblance on. "Come fight me."

"Oh," he mocked with a lazy yawn. "Shiny." He started tapping away at one of the control panels before him.

"Neo, do you think you can teleport in there and shut this barrier down."

She looked at it and shook her head.

I guess there needed to be a little bit of open space for her to move through and that shimmering barrier allowed her none. Some semblances had rules like that. Like mine had plenty of laws. Mine was even defined by its rules.

A gate began to open up in the floor in a spiraling fashion. I hadn't really taken stock of it but it was earth beneath my boots rather than the hard hexagonal tiles that made up the rest of the facility.

From the pit a giant Deathstalker emerged. It was slightly splotched blue like so many of my wretched father's other wretched specimens in this place.

It was enormous, at least as big as the one in initiation, if not a little bigger. It lowered its brightly colored stinger at me and I raised my shield and sword. It slammed it's stinger forward but I met it with the cold hard strength only my semblance could provide. I didn't budge. Back in initiation I'd been pushed back by that Deathstalker's claws but I was so much unbelievably stronger now than then.

I slashed out from behind my shield at the stinger where it met the rest of the white, blue, and black tail.

It screeched at me as I bit deep into its vulnerable flesh and it pulled back. It came at me with its claws but Neo and I vanished with our speed. She backflipped over it, picking at it's exposed eyes as I slid at it hard and sliced at its mouth.

"Neo cut the tail!" She landed next to me and I saw her nod. The tail was now hanging by a twist of flesh and little else. It was vulnerable there. I doubted we'd hammer the stinger into its own head, probably kill it some other way.

I dashed forward and I met its claws. I held it steady while Neo flipped over it and cut its tail off. It screeched again and the Deathstalker reared back.

I cut at its claws where they met dark flesh and the blueish pincers retreated from me. It then charged me and slammed my body against one of the grey walls. I pushed back against it with a heavy boot.

The tail came around and smashed me in the chest, knocking me to the ground. I picked myself back up and met the pincers again with my shield. I slashed around it, trying for the eyes and mouth but it must have seen that trick before because it held me far away with the pincers.

Like an oversized lobster. I tried again to take off one of the pincers. I bit deep into the black flesh between blue and white flesh and it flailed pressing against me.

Neo flipped into place again and stabbed it in one of its eyes. It roared with rage, the mouth parts frothed with spittle and I felt nothing but disgust for it.  

This thing was just reminding me of better times with my friends. Not that I had anything against Neo, in fact I probably had the least against Neo out of anybody alive on the planet. She just wasn't a good replacement for my teammates and friends. She just didn't do it for me like Pyrrha, Ren, or Nora could. You know? It was nothing personal. I'm sure she felt the same way about me and Roman.

I dived and brought my sword down two handed against the claw and took the tip off through the armor. The tail came whipping around and I jumped and hovered in the middle of the air and Cross-Slashed its face and tail.

It writhed to get away from my combo and it screamed in agony as I took its tail off and left deep gouges in its carapace near its face.

There wasn't that much room for it to escape me from. I was guessing things in here with it were more locked in with it and less having it locked in with them. I was turning its usual situation on its head.

I stabbed down through an eye as I fell and it writhed and tried to shake me off. I twisted Crocea Mors and shattered its shell around where Crocea Mors was buried.

It cried and began to dissolve into dust and goo.

I walked up to the barrier that guy was on the other side of and banged on it four times. Gong. Gong. Gong. Gong. I began to recharge my semblance.

"Little pit, little pig, let me in." He began to back away from his control panel. I stood and charged for a long time. I got my hands on my semblance again and swung at the barrier as hard as I could, burning my semblance with it in a wild attack.

The barrier failed for a moment and lights on his side of the barrier blared.

"I'll huff and I'll puff." I menaced from outside. "What's it going to be Mr. Man."

He ran away, the enormous coward. I couldn't believe it. He was just leaving us locked in here. I charged up my semblance and rattled the barrier until it broke. I banged at it over and over again and then I Cross-Slashed it after putting my sword together with the shield and getting the broadsword. But whoever the man with the mustache was, he escaped.

I swore and I screamed and I slashed up some of the computers in my rage before I had the sense to calm down and remember I might want to look through them.

Then I marched down the passageway after the mustached man. It eventually led out a back entrance to the laboratory. I sighed. He was stone cold gone. Along with any chance I had of learning about my sisters.

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-WG

#arthur watts #jaune arc #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #cloud!jaune arc #sephiroth!jaune arc #merlot #neo #neapolitan #motion sickness #rwby #ff7 #ffvii #war of the roses #white rose #whiterose #whiteknight #white knight #lancaster #ruby rose x jaune arc x weiss schnee #salem #Salem is Mama Arc

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: “Gravity”

Good lord, folks. Buckle your seat-belts because we’ve got a lot to get through this episode. I think this is my longest recap to date, so settle in.

Episode Eleven’s “Gravity” starts out simple enough, focusing on the two fights we’d set up during “Out in the Open.” First up, Ironwood vs. Watts. Overall this fight does a really excellent job of showcasing their different fighting styles. Right from the start Watts is pointing his gun forward to take a clear shot at Ironwood, whereas Ironwood points his backwards to use as a surge of momentum.

He’s going to do this frequently throughout the battle, constantly using his gun to maneuver in the air, slow falls, regain his balance, and change directions, a much more complicated series of choices than the one-off shots we see Ruby use with her sniper rifle. This is partly because Ironwood seems to have a much larger supply of bullets---some sort of energy/dust ammo---than Watts does. His steampunk-esque gun holds only nineteen bullets, requiring him to keep track throughout the fight. Which is always a fun trope but sorry, Watts, you can’t compare to the king.

Thus, with limited weaponry available to him, Watts is forced to get creative with the arena itself. We see him manipulating gravity, shooting up columns of water and fire, and making use of his own pathways between platforms, all in an effort to throw Ironwood off and catch up unawares. However, Ironwood is, frankly, the much better fighter. He was right last week to assume he could handle Watts even though he sent three off to tackle Tyrian. He’s able to recover much more quickly and learns from any mistakes, as evidenced by his ability to hit Watts dead on while in the air the second time he takes out the gravity. When they come together in hand-to-hand Ironwood easily dominates, no doubt thanks not just to his military training and huntsmen lifestyle, but also in large part to his prosthetics which I would assume grant him more speed and power. Throughout the course of the fight we see Watts consistently take more damage to his aura and he’s unable to sense when Ironwood is sneaking up on him. After that little maneuver, Watts (presumably) grows reckless and lets off his last three or four shots in a random barrage. All of them miss.

This emphasis on emotion continues when they land back onto the main stage with Watts shouting, “You never appreciated my genius, James! You just stood atop it and called yourself a giant.” Oh, did Ironwood actually do something horrendous in the past? Is there something juicy that would explain---though not excuse---Watts’ turn towards villainy? Nah. He quickly follows that up with, “You chose that fat imbecile over me!” referring to Pietro. So... nice one, Watts. Crazy arrogance, willful ignorance of Pietro’s own, clear genius (anyone who can create Penny is no slouch), as well as a bit of fat-shamming on top of it all. No sympathy from me.

This moment emphasizes how unhinged Watts is becoming though as the fight turns against him. Even when he manages to setup a head shot Ironwood reveals, “You’re smart, but you’re not the only one who can count,” referencing that Watt’s emotions got the better of him, leading to him wasting his last bullet before it could be of real use.

...except not. I’ve got to admit, I was very pleased when all of this---or at least this particular moment---was merely a plan to get Ironwood to let his guard down. Watts is way too smart a character to be done in by the “You got too emotional and that made you sloppy” trope. So kudos there (even if it remains to be seen whether that Pietro comment was really his motivation, or just another part of the plan). Instead, he uses Ironwood’s confidence in his victory to trap him with the rings that control the arena, essentially pinning Ironwood’s non-prosthetic arm through the energy shields he’s been using. We can immediately see that the parts that have touched Ironwood already have horribly burned the skin.

And that ends up being Watt’s downfall. Not stupidity on his own part, but his lack of understanding of Ironwood himself. He assumes that this truly is a trap for him, rather than another sacrifice. After all, what fool would ruin their one remaining arm to stop him? Watts himself wouldn’t. Don’t pull, he cautions Ironwood, not “unless you’re hoping to add more metal to that body of yours.” Watts goes so far as to turn his back on Ironwood who then makes the sacrifice we all knew he would. One burned, useless arm later and he’s free.

I would like everyone to keep this moment in mind. Namely the utter devastation of it. I’d go so far as to say it’s as bad at Yang losing her arm in Volume 3. Despite seeing it bandaged later, Watts at least thinks it will be a complete loss if Ironwood sacrifices it. He’ll need to “add more metal,” AKA replace his arm, so though he obviously still has it in the following scenes, we don’t know if it will ever be functional again. Just as important, Ironwood had to choose to do that to himself. That wasn’t a horrific, but ultimately clean cut done in a moment of surprise. That was a conscious decision, a slow pull through all that pain, and then having to finish your fight immediately afterward. It’s a very different kind of psychological trauma, no better or worse than having someone take your arm from you by force. Throughout this volume I’ve seen a lot of fans being critical not only of Ironwood’s main decisions, but just his overall attitude as well. Too strict, too stern, doesn’t smile enough, yells sometimes, etc. basically associating someone who isn’t all sunshine and smiles with someone who is “bad.” Ignoring for the moment that we can say the same thing about many of our group---notably Yang---I have little doubt that I’ll see similar posts after this episode. Writings in the vein of, “Ironwood is unhinged! I can’t believe he yelled and hit his desk like that!” So everyone just keep this moment in mind and ask yourself how calm you’d be if you’d sacrificed your arm like that all of half an hour ago. And then found Salem’s calling card on your desk. And then came to the realization that the allies you trusted have been lying to you from the start. And then Salem herself appears to mock you. And then your city is about to be overrun. Basic summary of the rest of the episode: holy shit. So yeah. If Yang is allowed to be angry and upset after losing her arm, or just angry in general like she is in the later half of “Gravity,” I think we owe it to Ironwood to let him be angry too. I have a lot of feelings about the utter insanity he’s been forced through with little to no support and if he wants to take all that out by hitting his desk once, by god I’d say that’s a good coping strategy given the circumstances. Both the writing and the fans tend to erase trauma once you’ve passed age 25. The girls have every right to be upset, to break, to not trust people because they’ve been through a few months of hardship, but Ozpin isn’t allowed the same after a couple thousand years of that. We’re going to see the same hypocrisy later in this episode---the group can be upset about lies but Ironwood is not---and I’m hoping (against hope) that the fandom doesn’t make that worse by sweeping this injury under the rug. It’s horrific and absolutely has a bearing on his inability to keep his cool with the group immediately afterwards. We’ve long passed Ironwood owing them endless reassurances and calm responses. 

Anyway, Ironwood still manages to finish the fight because his remaining arm is his robotic one, giving him the strength to easily drag and raise Watts into the air one-handed. He dangles him over the edge of the arena, announcing that he will “sacrifice whatever it takes to stop [Salem].” A clear bit of foreshadowing for his decision at the end of the episode. Watts responds that he hopes he does.

We then move to the Tyrian fight which, on the whole, I don’t think was done quite as well. Granted, there are a lot of enjoyable and badass moments. I like that Clover’s first act is to announce that Tyrian is under arrest, maintaining the law that Atlas (and Ironwood) works to uphold. It doesn’t matter that Tyrian is a crazy serial killer in league with an immortal sorceress hell-bent on destroying the world. Even crazy serial killers have rights and are given the option of surrendering, even when everyone present knows there’s exactly zero chance of that happening. It’s the principal of the thing and the ability to say, “We gave him a chance.” In a world overrun with inequality, this is a small but important attempt to level the field. If you do something wrong you face legal action and those rights are announced to you. Same for Tyrian. Same for Team RWBY. But we’ll get to that.

For now, we see Qrow attack first and like back in Volume Four he and Tyrian are pretty evenly matched. The tide doesn’t turn until Robyn and Clover come into play. Throughout this exchange we see a lot of cool combos among the three of them. Tyrian will block an incoming arrow with his tail only for Clover to snag it with his hook. Robyn can get another arrow to perfectly bounce off the walls and then Qrow’s scythe, hitting Tyrian dead on. Clover can dive between Tyrian’s legs, giving Qrow the opening he needs to attack. It is, as said, pretty badass... almost a little too badass. Personally, I would have appreciated them messing up once or twice. They’re all professionals, yes, but Qrow and Clover have only had one fight together. Robyn, meanwhile, wasn’t even allied with them until an hour ago. This is a situation where skills shouldn’t really trump, “We’re three very distinct people who don’t know each other’s fighting styles well, trying to attack one guy in very close quarters.” There should have been some screw-ups. Especially when we take semblances into account. What, are we supposed to assume here that Clover’s semblance just conveniently overrides Qrow’s? That no mistakes---let alone anything bad---will happen in this fight despite the fact that it’s an extreme parallel to Volume Four? That whole battle emphasized, “Don’t come closer!” because when people fight near Qrow bad shit happens. Now, he fights with two other people in a narrow alleyway and there’s not a single repercussion. Based on their travels looking for the geist, I don’t buy that Qrow’s semblance is just conveniently inactive while near Clover. Even if I did... that’s not a very good writing decision. To me, it’s just more evidence that Rooster Teeth doesn’t understand its own rules/doesn’t know what to do with an ability like Qrow’s. It causes problems only when they explicitly want it to. Then, miraculously, it’s no longer in effect.

Still, we’ll acknowledge that RWBY had a lot else it wanted to accomplish in this episode, so the need to power through this fight is somewhat justified. I personally would have had the entirety of this episode be the two battles---I was shocked when both ended just eight minutes in---but I’m obviously not the one writing the show. Thus, instead of an episode devoted to both the action and the emotion of confronting our two main villains this volume, Tyrian loses his cool after getting punched in the gut, manages to catch Robyn’s arrow in his teeth... 

But it’s a bomb. 

Down he goes. Fight’s done.

Which leads us into the second half of the episode. I want to preface this with a short acknowledgment before we go any further.

Did these last ten minutes give me what I’ve been looking for since the beginning of Volume Six? No. It’s easy to assume it did because all the pieces are there. Ironwood is finally angry about the secret keeping. The Ace Ops are criticizing the group left and right. Surely this is the “The group is capable of making mistakes and they should be called out for it!” that I wanted, right? Not really. For the simple reason that there is a massive difference between:

A story that acknowledges mistakes as mistakes. The characters either grow from this lesson or dig in their heels and are painted as being in the wrong for that decision.

and

A story that takes what the audience (me) perceives as mistakes and frames them as justified choices. The characters do not grow because they’re 100% sure they’re in the right and those who would criticize them are painted as in the wrong. 

“Gravity” is so far into that second option I don’t think the series can come back from it. Does the group face criticism? Yes, but every single time the writing insists that it’s undeserved criticism. It paints the group as the underdogs facing unfair odds, rather than equals---with all the responsibility that comes with that---facing criticism that they need to own up to. Absolutely nothing in this second half implies that the group is going to learn from their mistakes because they, and the writing, still insists that they weren’t mistakes. Which is precisely what we’ve gotten before. Cordovin might criticism them, but Cordovin is in the wrong. Winter might criticism them, but Winter is in the wrong. Every time a character goes, “Hey, you shouldn’t have done this” the group responds with, “Yes we should have!” and the story backs them up. Yes, you should have attacked Argus. Yes, you should have stolen an airship. Yes, you should have lied to Ironwood and spilled the secret to Robyn. Yes, yes, yes. That’s the takeaway every single time. The group is never in the wrong. Others just think they are and those others are painted as cruel, militaristic, unhinged characters.

It’s not at all what I was looking for. Just more of the same.

So that’s the preface. In terms of what we actually get, Ironwood returns to his office with his arm bandaged and in a sling, carrying Watts’ bag, only to drop it when he sees the queen piece on his desk. He calls Winter asking, “Was anyone caught entering the school grounds while I was away?” and when she says no Ironwood has her race off to the Winter Maiden, unknowingly leading Cinder there in the process. “Now show me where you’ve been hiding her.”

We then cut to the group where the trouble begins. They’re not just curious about why Ironwood is recalling them with Mantle still in need of evacuation, they’re actively questioning it. This is the attitude I simply don’t understand. The group acts as if Ironwood is deliberately screwing everyone over when they know better. This is no longer the beginning of the volume where they thought he was some horrific dictator hell bent on destroying his own Kingdom. This is just an hour or so after, “We should tell Ironwood!” and the happy-go-lucky ‘We trust him now’ moment. Even less time after Ruby stared up at him in awe with, “He’s doing it.” They had reason to trust him before they even made it to Atlas. They were given even more reasons in the form of Ironwood sharing his secrets, early licenses, and being allowed to work on the tower. They then still waited until Ironwood was doing everything they wanted before giving him some of that trust back... but the moment he stops doing precisely what they want---we want to keep evacuating Mantle---he’s deemed suspicious again. 

I mean seriously, is the group that dense? Are they incapable of thinking to themselves, “Wow, something must have happened if Ironwood is recalling us before evacuations are complete,” which is precisely the case. The scene tries to frame it as “Group Good” and “Ace Ops Blinding Obeying Orders Bad” but that aspect doesn’t even come into play. There’s nothing blind about it. It simply takes two seconds of critical thinking skills to realize that something really awful must have happened back at the Academy that trumps what you’re doing in Mantle. This is what I mean by the writing being biased. Before we even reach the fight in Ironwood’s office it’s trying to paint him as potentially cruel, potentially suspicious, potentially abandoning his people, look how worried our heroes are about this secret decision he’s made... when all that requires ignoring some really basic deduction in order to reach those assumptions. Remember that intelligence is a plot device in RWBY. If they want Ironwood forced to spill his secrets, he’ll randomly start talking about them in front of his enemies. If they want Ironwood painted as the villain, the group will randomly be incapable of realizing that maybe, just maybe, something went wrong on the home front and you’re needed there.

Things just get so much worse from then on. The group splits with JNR going off to find Oscar and, admittedly, I was shocked we got that at all. I mean yeah, it’s setup for the final reveal at the end of the episode, but the fact that anyone remembered Oscar was missing---let alone happily went off to find him---was still a surprise. So only Team RWBY heads back to Ironwood’s office where they find him (rightfully) panicking over the queen on his desk. Weiss tries to baby him, acting like he’s freaking out over nothing, when all these characters should recall precisely what Ironwood himself points out: the last time we saw this symbol it was a message that Beacon had fallen. He’s not paranoid here. He’s entirely justified in his panic. Ironwood likewise points out that they may have been duped into bringing thousands of people into Atlas as easy targets and Vine agrees, setting up that the Ace Ops are on Team Ironwood throughout the course of this conversation. Not out of blind loyalty, but because he’s right. That is a concern. That may be the plan. We do need to try and do something about that. Team RWBY, however, isn’t convinced.

That is, until Ruby realizes that the chess piece is made of black glass. Which means Cinder left it. Normally I’d congratulate her on that deduction---it is the one smart move we see Ruby pull this whole episode---but I just hate what follows. Namely that Ruby and Ruby alone controls her team’s opinions on a situation. Again. We saw it back in the snow, then again when Blake announced in the elevator that they’d do whatever she wanted. Team RWBY is the one who blindly follows their leader, not the Ace Ops, the only exception being Blake and Yang going rogue in regards to Robyn, but we see that hive-mind mindset here again. Ironwood brings up a good point? Nothing. Ace Ops support that point with more logic? Nothing. Ruby supports it? Oh, suddenly Weiss and Blake are taking this seriously. Suddenly Yang is fired up and ready to do whatever is necessary. Ruby controls the room. It’s only when she’s on board that her teammates decide this is worth getting riled up about.

Which, as I’ve said before, is a horrible way to write a diverse group. Especially when the writing is trying to paint the Ace Ops as mindless soldiers. For all their claims that they just have to follow orders, they’re the only ones parsing through this situation and coming to their own conclusions. It’s just that their conclusions do end up aligning with Ironwood’s which is the “bad” take in this scene. Team RWBY, however, waits until their leader makes a decision and then simply rides her cloak tails. The day that Blake, Yang, or Weiss legitimately disagree with Ruby---not a token “Are you sure we should keep secrets from Ironwood? We’re not actually challenging this. Just checking in”---is the day the writing will disagree with her. AKA, no time soon.

Blake tries to give some bland reassurance about them all being with Ironwood to which he responds, “Are you with me? How did Robyn know about the global communications tower?” Thank you! Thank you for giving us Ironwood’s characterization back and acknowledging that he has no reason to buy their generic ‘Got your back’ statements when everything they’ve done this volume has proven otherwise. They don’t support Ironwood, only themselves and their own teams. The minute he does something they don’t like he’s chucked under the bus. Too bad the writing doesn’t acknowledge any of this and instead continually paints the group as being justified in their decisions. It’s that hypocrisy again. When the group yells at Ozpin for keeping secrets we’re supposed to be on their side. When the Ace Ops yell at the group for keeping secrets we’re... still supposed to be on their side.

Weiss tries to diffuse the situation with “None of this matters right now!” which is real rich when they were just complaining about Ironwood not telling them why they were called back. They get to worry over that, but Ironwood isn’t allowed to worry about them outright betraying him? “Loyalty always matters!” he shouts back and he’s right. Why should Ironwood trust them to have his back in this crucial moment when they’ve never had it before? I’m already seeing more of this hypocrisy among the fandom. When Ozpin kept secrets and told lies the group was given a whole volume to be pissed about that and fans still, to this very day, insist that it hasn’t been enough time for them to get over it, to regain even a portion of that trust. But now that Ironwood has been lied to and betrayed in the same manner? People are annoyed that he’s not just shrugging it off. How dare you not get over in thirty seconds what our heroes got weeks to work through. His inability to just suck it up, as it were, is used to make him seem irrational here. I don’t see anyone, characters or fans alike, acknowledging that his anger is as righteous as the group’s was out in the snow. That there is the disconnect.

Of course, something has to break the tension. Drawn by all the fury and fear, a grimm pops out of Watts’ bag. A fail-safe for if he was defeated and captured. Salem immediately takes control of the grimm and kills it, using its form to appear before them. She reveals that it doesn’t matter that her men were captured. They were just there to “set the stage,” which they’ve done. Still doesn’t explain the random Penny side plot to my mind (seriously, why did the story bother to resurrect her when she has done nothing plot-wise or emotionally?), but whatever. Much more importantly, the stage is set for Salem herself. She’s approaching with the grimm army we saw her amassing which is... iffy.

First off, why? Why after a thousand years has she suddenly changed her MO from keeping to the sidelines to a full-on attack? Again, what’s the catalyst for that massive change? We don’t know. Meanwhile, from a writing perspective, I’m hesitant about having our Big Bad thrown into the mix before the finale. We know there are plenty of volumes left in this series, which automatically undermines any battle they might have with Salem. Will they win?? Of course not! Because RWBY isn’t over yet. Granted, this could all just be a ruse of some sort. Maybe Salem just wants them to think she’s approaching with an army, which would be much more up her alley in terms of long-distance manipulation. But if not... seriously, what’s the point of that?

Here’s hoping it’s a bluff.

Speaking of manipulation, we get a fantastically creepy moment where Salem tells Ironwood to “simply accept the futility of your situation” while smiling like a kind mother. That’s the Salem who is truly dangerous. Ironwood reaffirms that he won’t give up the relics and Ruby pips up with, “We don’t have to kill you to stop you.”

Hey wait. I’m gonna give you all another graphic.

This is Ozpin’s stance! This is his plan! His version of hope! We spent all of Volume Six having the cast beat on him for, “Omg Salem is immortal?!” and with the exception of Nora’s comment, no discussion of this in Volume Seven... but now suddenly Ruby is making this announcement? The group came to this revelation sometime off screen which we a) don’t get to see and b) once again created no scenario in the form of, “Wow! Ozpin was right all along! Maybe we should go talk to him...”

I’m just... wow. The number of times the writing takes what the group and the adults do, the exact same perspectives and decisions, and twists it so that the group comes out looking like heroes and the adults look like misguided, unhinged fools who need to be put in their place... I’m really over it at this point. And by extension the group themselves. Their characterizations have been so badly mangled at this point I legitimately don’t like them as people. I don’t care if they say they want to protect Mantle, or if they say they’ll support Ironwood, or if they say they’re unsure about their choices. All their actions claim otherwise.

Rather than grappling with the huge revelation that the group is apparently no longer obsessed with Salem’s immortality (or rather that Ruby isn’t. The rest of the group doesn’t actually matter. As established, they sync up with her beliefs the second she announces them), we return to Summer Rose. Salem goes, “Your mother said those words to me” and Ruby... loses it? What? I would have been 100% on board with this if we’d gotten it last Volume because then we saw Ruby losing her cool periodically. The smashed alcohol bottles. Chucking her scroll. Screaming at Qrow. That was all building to something. But then we had a year and roughly twelve episodes of normality. Ruby jumps into her fight with Cordovin and has been fine ever since. Hell, she’s been bubbly and confident, goofing off with Penny in one episode, then giving strong orders to her team in another. The one time we see her falter was in her conversation with Qrow and he reassured her completely that she was both doing the right thing and in no way comparable to Ozpin. Now, suddenly, one line from Salem and Ruby collapses? Full on incapacitated? I could buy the crying while still standing strong, I could buy a collapse if we’d kept her characterization going from Volume Six, but this kind of reaction in this context just felt so extreme. Doesn’t help that I really wasn’t sold on the voice acting here. Those cries sound less like devastated sobs and more like weird hiccups. Not to rag on Lindsay. On the whole I think she does a really excellent job as Ruby, it’s just this particular moment didn’t read right to me. I didn’t feel Ruby’s supposed grief here.

So that was... a lot for one line from Salem in a volume of otherwise confident and cool-headed Ruby. We also don’t see it amounting to anything, as per usual with RWBY’s writing. Ruby isn’t out of commission for the rest of the conversation or anything. She pops right back up after a second in Yang’s lap, just as confident and go-getting as before. There was no lead up to this and there are no consequences for the breakdown. Rooster Teeth honestly seems to think they can just chuck random things into the story---Ruby needs to show emotion at some point!---and then just leave it at that, entirely disconnected from everything else around it. Would we have known that Ruby just had her first breakdown of the series a minute later while once again betraying Ironwood? Nope.

Finally, this scene shows us again that the Argus battle was a bunch of nonsense. Ruby’s eyes nearly activate when she’s grieving for her mother, imagining---or perhaps seeing via Salem?---a sad Summer, not a smiling one. Just like her eyes activated while seeing Pyrrha die. Just like they activated when Blake was nearly killed by the Apathy. They activate now while thinking about her mother’s death. The montage of happy moments in lieu of the sad ones not working last volume was entirely out of place.

Salem finally leaves. Now everyone is panicking about this army. Elm points out that they’ll know if anything approaches. Vine checks and realizes that Watts took out their perimeter. Either that or Salem has already destroyed everyone and everything out there. It’s impossible to know. During all this Blake asks if the Amity tower is actually finished and we get more nonsense about how Ironwood is evil for telling a lie, but the group is always justified in telling theirs. The writing really tried to compare Ironwood telling Mantle---who I guarantee 100% does not care about whether a communications tower is finished while they’re getting attacked by grimm---a lie to lure out one of their biggest threats to Blake and Yang going behind Ironwood’s back to tell a potentially non-trustworthy outlaw about said tower, risking that the information would fall into the wrong hands and doom the project before it could be completed either way. Those are not in any way comparable situations, yet the writing really has Weiss going, “General Ironwood?” in a ‘How could you betray us like that?’ tone while Yang continues to look pissed.

And as if they didn’t know! How is this a personal betrayal? They were all helping to build that tower. Surely they’d know it it was that close to being done. Again, critical thinking skills, people. Anyone with two brain cells and their insider information should have looked at Ironwood’s announcement and gone, “Oh, that must be a bluff. Just a few days ago we were arguing about whether to continue taking resources from Mantle. No way is Amity ready. He’s going after Watts. Who is indeed the much bigger threat. Considering that he has control over the entirety of our technology and there’s literally no downside to telling Mantle about a finished tower when they’re getting devoured by grimm.” This is another, “But lying is wrong!” in the face of “But lying kept us alive...?” 

Does everyone get what I’m saying here? How RWBY takes these situations and tries to paint them in an absolutely ridiculous light, expecting the audience to blindly accept this perspective despite everything else they’ve seen for themselves? Like, two episodes ago? I swear I’ve never encountered writing that treats its audience this badly. Scene after scene relies heavily on the viewer having no ability to think for themselves. Just accept that Ironwood is a horrible person for lying about the tower even though there are no repercussions for that and we JUST watched him defeating Watts as a result. Like, five minutes ago. That just happened. In this episode. 

Ironwood then drops the bomb that Winter has gone off to claim the Maiden power. Interesting development. I wonder what that means exactly. Is she just going to lock herself away until the Maiden dies naturally? Do they have her on some sort of life support and is there an agreement to pull the plug if necessary? Are they going to use a machine similar to the one Pyrrha was in and try to force the change early? Or is this just a misleading comment and Winter is merely off to protect the Maiden, no intention of taking the power now? Who knows. We’ll have to wait until next episode to find out.

Ironwood likewise announces that the staff and the lamp need to be locked away now that they’re compromised, even though they’ve been compromised since they first saw Tyrian in Mantle. Insert another [this scenario is so stupid and contrived] explanation here. It’s made worse by Ruby’s childish “You said we could keep it.” Excuse me? What, did you think the lamp was your personal property now forever and always? Is Ruby really sitting there arguing that something Ironwood told her weeks ago trumps the obvious logic of putting the relic where it’s somewhere safe? That’s the characterization we’re going for, a leader who cares more about, ‘But you said we could have it!’ over the fate of the world? What even is this? The fact that Ironwood has to explain to them that the situation has changed just reinforces the group’s overall attitude. That is, one of arrogance and importance. They literally need to be told why putting the relic in a nearly impenetrable vault is better than letting them have it just because they want it. Plus, you know, they lied about the lamp from the start. So there’s that too.

Finally, Ironwood reveals that Amity was originally a plan of Ozpin’s but he didn’t push it far enough. Instead, he intends to use the staff to lift all of Atlas instead, hopefully taking two relics and a Maiden far out of Salem’s reach. Ruby wants to use the tower for its designed purpose instead, which is only a valid option in her mind because the writing was stupid last week. If there had actually been any logic there---if people had been allowed to react naturally and in a variety of ways to the Salem announcement, rather than a super convenient “Yeah! Let’s all work together!” across an entire, panicking city---she wouldn’t be quite so eager to tell the whole world. But we all know at this point that logic bends to the protagonists’ whims, so Ruby wants that same perfect ending across all of Remnant. She stands her ground, as does her team. Obviously.

Meanwhile, the Ace Ops aren’t just following Ironwood’s orders like the writing wants us to think via Harriet’s earlier comment. Rather, they’re each thinking through the situation for themselves and making very good points. If Salem has taken out our perimeter than we know our tech and people don’t stand a chance against this army. We just finished up the fight in Mantle and none of us are in a position to start another. Notably, Harriet brings this up, the one whose aura took a massive hit while nearly getting crushed underfoot. Vine points out that sometimes you have to lose a battle to win the war, but Team RWBY, to be blunt, simply doesn’t care.

I’ll be blunt myself here too: I don’t have an easy solution to this particular scenario. I don’t know what the “right” or the “wrong” choice is. Weighing starting a fight with VERY high stakes you’ll lose against abandoning the people of Mantle is just a straight up horrific decision. Like so much of what Ozpin faced, there is no clear-cut, good answer here. Do you stand by the people and risk the world, or work to save the world and doom the people? I don’t know and I do commend Rooster Teeth for writing a difficult choice... just not in giving each side the weight it deserves. Because as said, we’re meant to root for Team RWBY, always. Theirs is presented as the “right” choice every time, despite the fact that, as established, this is far from a black and white decision.

What frustrates me the most is when faced with all of these logical and very important considerations (we might not have backup, we’re in no position to fight, if Salem gets the relics and another Maiden the world is screwed) the group won’t even acknowledge these things. They’re so set in their own perspective they won’t even give these HUGE concerns the time of day. Rather, Yang shoots back, “You can’t just back down from a fight!”

That’s it. That’s the group’s problem in a single line.

This is what got Pyrrha killed.

It’s something the group should remember. She also insisted on fighting when she should have retreated and, since this was back during the days when characters actually faced consequences for their actions, it cost Pyrrha her life. Granted, going after Cinder was a truly useless endeavor. Pyrrha achieved nothing with her sacrifice. Here, Team RWBY hopes to save the people of Mantle, adding a clear justification for their insistence on fighting... but this is nevertheless indicative of that larger “punch it until it stops moving” mindset. It’s not that they decide to fight instead of retreating that’s the problem, it’s that to their mind fighting is the only option. Ever. This is what led to them attacking Cordovin and destroying Argus’ mech, drawing a massive grimm in the process. When faced with the option of backing down, Team RWBY doesn’t consider that an option at all. Which is heroic when up against an actual enemy, far less so when you’re facing an ally and the choice to fight has serious repercussions attached to it. Hell, the group doesn’t even consider compromises. They could have easily acknowledged that collecting the relics, the Maiden, and getting the staff to work on Atlas will take time. You do that while we focus on evacuating the rest of Mantle to the city. But no, even the concept of a compromise simply isn’t possible. You just always fight. Straight up. Anyone who suggests anything less isn’t a true huntsmen. “We’re loyal to the people!” Ruby shouts, as if “the people” doesn’t also include the rest of the world that Ironwood is trying to save and that they’re endangering by keeping the relics and Maiden within Salem’s reach. 

That is one messed up perspective to tout in a story infused with the complex and the morally gray.

The real kicker though? Ruby’s ‘My way or the highway’ attitude obliterates a solution that fell straight into her lap. Jaune calls and says straight out that they have another situation. If Ruby had listened to her teammate for just three seconds they all would have learned about Oscar, thereby undermining Ironwood’s plan. He can’t keep the lamp safe if he doesn’t know where it is. You look for it while, again, we evacuate Mantle. Then we take everything out of Salem’s reach. Win-win. Instead, Ruby blasts her way through the situation. Literally, dodging Ironwood and hiding behind his desk shouting a highly bias version of his plan in the hopes of getting everyone on her side. And it works. 

Because those like Clover don’t get to hear any of that context. Like how the perimeter is gone, there’s an army potentially coming, no one is in a position to fight, we’ve already lost a relic... they just here a Ruby’s version of events that paints Ironwood as the callous man Robyn thought he was---oh my god he’s abandoning Mantle for no good reason!---and people will react accordingly. Ruby likewise doesn’t care that shouting such information over all channels does things like, say, clue Tyrian into their plan. She just wants to do things her way, right now. Pausing to think (because thinking isn’t fighting) simply doesn’t happen.

I used to adore Ruby as a hero. Someone who was intrinsically good, hopeful, and wickedly clever in her ability to come out on top. Now she’s stubborn, arrogant, at times cruel, and charges in headfirst like her sister, refusing to consider any perspective other than her own. And her team endlessly supports that. The writing endlessly supports that. This isn’t our hero working through her flaws, but rather a flawed character that the writing refuses to acknowledge is flawed. When Ruby flies behind Ironwood’s desk the music rises triumphantly, just like it did when she attacked Cordovin’s mech. When Ironwood announces that they’re under arrest, Ruby spits back, “We won’t just let you take us” and we’re supposed to cheer.

Which brings us back to the question of whether the group really faced consequences here. Let me give you all a random, non-RWBY example of two scenes. Scenario One:

Parent: You punched her?

Teen: She insulted me!

Parent: I understand that, but that doesn’t mean you were justified in attacking her.

Teen: Oh, I was.

Parent: Maybe you were, maybe you weren’t, but you can’t solve all your problems that way.

Teen: I... I know that, okay. Back off. I just get so angry...

Parent: I know. We’re going to work on that. You’re grounded this weekend. We can discuss this more then.

Teen: [sighs] Fine.

vs. Scenario Two:

Parent: You punched her?

Teen: She insulted me!

Parent: I understand that, but that doesn’t mean you were justified in attacking her.

Teen: Oh, I was.

Parent: Maybe you were, maybe you weren’t, but you can’t solve all your problems that way.

Teen: Screw you! It worked didn’t it? I think a good punch goes a long way.

Parent: That’s not... okay look. You’re grounded this weekend so---

Teen: Like hell I am. [Proceeds to run off]

Teen: [Later to friend] ---and then she tried to ground me? Can you believe that?

Friend: Holy shit what an asshole.

If we put aside my own iffy dialogue for the moment, Scenario One acknowledges the complexity of the situation while likewise pointing out that the teen didn’t handle herself well. RWBY has achieved that here: the ethics of this scenario are acknowledged as complicated, but the group did things they shouldn’t have, as evidence by Ironwood’s anger and the Ace Ops’ criticism. However, Scenario One goes on to let the teen acknowledge that mistake, thereby validating it in the first place. A consequence is set, grounding, and they accept that, thereby further validating that their behavior needs work. They accept the consequence because both they and the writing acknowledge that the consequence is deserved. It takes what was previously two subjective stances---they say I’m wrong, I say I’m right---and encourages the audience to find the middle ground. Neither was totally wrong or right. The teen might be justified in some respects, but still made mistakes in others. She needs to improve. 

RWBY, however, steers firmly into Scenario Two wherein the teen (Team RWBY) insists points blank that they never made mistakes in the first place, thereby encouraging the audience to question whether Ironwood and the Ace Ops (the parent) is right to be calling them out at all. We see no humility or guilt, only confidence. Ruby shouting “No!” at Cordovin when she’s told to surrender. Yang keeping silent after admitting that she and Blake told Robyn, not bothering to apologize or admit that this might have been a breech of trust. They challenge the validity of the claim that mistakes were made and by virtue of being protagonists encourage the audience to challenge it too. Finally, we see them reject the consequence because they will not admit that it’s deserved. The teen will not accept a grounding. Ruby: “We won’t just let you take us.” We’re then told by others that this rejection was warranted. The friend reinforces the view that the teen was right to run because that punishment is undeserved. The message is, “You never did anything wrong in the first place.” The plot of RWBY likewise reinforces the view that resisting Cordovin’s arrest was right by having her randomly let the group go. The consequence is replaced with a reward and, presumably, we’ll have a similar situation wherein the group either defeats the Ace Ops or is released by them. The consequences never take hold because the writing doesn’t think there should be consequences in the first place. Team RWBY isn’t going to be arrested here. They’re certainly not acknowledging that on some level they deserve to be. We didn’t see that humility while they were cuffed on the airship---that most basic acknowledgement of, “Did we make some mistakes? Could we have done something better? Is Ironwood right to be this mad?”---and there’s none of it now here, either. The tone is pure, “How dare you try and arrest us? We’re the good guys here!” 

This remains as pro-protagonist as it has been the last two volumes. There are no consequences, only another hurdle for the group to overcome, painted as heroes for doing so. It’s Team RWBY vs. The Ace Ops and there’s no confusion about who we’re supposed to be rooting for. The Ace Ops because the group should rightly be stopped from hindering Ironwood’s attempts to keep the relics and a Maiden out of Salem’s hands, for their own lies and secret keeping that endangered them all this volume? Nope. It’s Team RWBY as the presumed heroes, facing off against soldiers who (supposedly) prioritize orders over what’s “right.” 

And yeah, Oscar is gone. There are a number of dismantled robots and blaster fire in the room where Neo presumably took him. So unless they do a flashback we don’t get to see if/how Ozpin reacted to this initial attack. I hope they do provide a flashback because otherwise that’s another crucial scene of Oscar’s that happened off screen...

Can’t wait to see what else we’ll end up with next week! Until then, 💜

#rwby #rwby volume 7 #rwby volume 7 spoilers #rwby recaps #mymetas

[razieltwelve]

A People Hamster (ATLA x Final Rose)

Once upon a time, Azula would have slaughtered anyone who had the audacity to suggest that she might actually heed the advice of a hamster. However, times had changed, and the hamster in question had proven himself a more than adequate advisor. She might like to think of herself as a people person, but Professor Radical was, above all things, a people hamster.

“It galls me to admit it, but you were right again.” She scowled at the hamster who was currently munching on a treat while occupying the little throne built into the armrest of her throne. “There were Earth Kingdom dissidents plotting to overthrow me. However, the measures you suggested proved successful. They have been dealt with.”

Had it been up to her, she would have adopted a firmer approach. Dissidents deserved to be crushed. However, Professor Radical had suggested a different approach. At his behest, she had sent her most skilled and loyal spies to identify the roots of their discontent. It turned out that price gouging, petty abuses of judicial power, and lack of food and shelter were the primary causes of discontent amongst the lower classes, not her rule per se. 

It had been easy to organise the removal of corrupt officials as well as the imposition of price controls. She had then used the Fire Nation’s military to round up more food before using her forces to ‘suggest’ the donation of vacant property to the homeless masses. Naturally, she had ensured that her name was linked to all of these changes. It wouldn’t do for the citizens of the city to forget who was responsible for their improved situation. In less than a month, she had cut the legs out from under the fledgling rebellion. 

But it went further.

With the citizenry growing more favourable toward her, it had been increasingly easy for her spies to find those willing to speak out and turn in would-be rebels. After all, who wanted to endanger their improved situation? Professor Radical had been right. People like Azula might have fought for power and ideals, but the vast majority of people would only fight if they were directly threatened. Put food in their bellies and coin in their pockets, and they would happily ignore any change in regime.

Needless to say, Professor Radical had been rewarded most handsomely for his performance. If anyone thought it odd that she kept a hamster around, no one had the courage to say anything. Both Mai and Ty Lee thought it odd but acceptable. Indeed, Ty Lee was determined to teach Professor Radical tricks, but the hamster preferred to spend his days looking out across the city they’d conquered and coming up with better ways to rule it.

Professor Radical squeaked at her.

“Ah, yes... the Avatar. It is tempting to rush off to pursue him, but I believe consolidating our power here is the best option.”

The hamster squeaked again.

“Indeed. Applying your philosophy, the Avatar is in a precarious position. Alone, even with all his power, he could never hope to defeat the Fire Nation. Instead, he will have to incite a popular rebellion and gather people to his cause. A properly ruled and prosperous Earth Kingdom - even if it is under Fire Nation rule - will rob him of his greatest source of support.”

Professor Radical cackled evilly and explained what he thought would happen next.

“That does sound amusing. You think that without popular support he’ll be forced to resort to bolder and more brazen attacks to try to provoke an overreaction from us? But if we remain reasonable and strike at him from the shadows, it should only turn the people against him. Moreover, if he was to overextend and the opportunity presented itself...”

There was no need to translate what it meant for Professor Radical to rub his paws together.

“That still leaves the matter of my uncle and my brother. What would you suggest?”

Professor Radical recommended leaving them well enough alone. Her uncle, according to him, currently lacked the motivation to heavily interfere in their affairs. A direct attack on him or Zuko would provide that motivation, and for all that her uncle had let himself go, he was still the Dragon of the West. Of course, if an unfortunate accident or two could be organised that could not be linked to her, well, so much the better. In addition, Professor Radical was worried about what Mai would do if Azula were to lash out at Zuko.

“You think she loves him more than she fears me?” Azula asked. Her jaw clenched as the hamster gave his reply. Her anger raged against her control, but she swallowed back the bitter taste of betrayal. “Yes, perhaps you’re right. Mai might like to pretend she doesn’t care about anything, but she does care. And as much as I want to believe that Ty Lee would pick me over her, it might be best not to test her that way. “

Professor Radical then made a suggestion that was pure treason. She should burn him on the spot for it, yet she didn’t. After all, her months of ruling Ba Sing Se had taught her much about what it meant to truly govern a region and lead it to prosperity. It had brought to light the ways in which her father was... lacking.

“You think I should be Fire Lord?” Azula frowned. “That would be treason.”

The only treason, Professor Radical claimed, was sitting back and doing nothing while the current Fire Lord led the Fire Nation to disaster. Wasn’t it her solemn and holy duty as a princess to ensure that the nation was well governed? And hadn’t she proved that she could govern well whereas her father relied on little more than the overwhelming might of the Fire Nation’s armies? It was a suitable strategy for war, but in the Peace of Fire that would follow their inevitable victory, it would only inspire disaster.

She wouldn’t have to kill him. She could simply organise to have him incapacitated. She’d already won the loyalty of the Dai Lee, and Professor Radical had taken careful note of the support she could count upon amongst the nobles. Why, if she replaced her father, she could even offer Zuko a posting ruling some out-of-the-way Earth Kingdom city. It ought to mollify him and her uncle, and it would get Mai onside as well.

“Enough,” Azula ordered. “I will hear no more of this.”

Professor Radical shrugged. It was merely a suggestion. Still, there were other matters for them to consider. The Water Tribes continued to resist stubbornly, but they relied heavily on fishing and whaling to support themselves. Rather than use the fleet to try to bludgeon them into submission, why not use the fleet to fish and whale, depriving the Water Tribe of food? Eventually, they’d have to come to the bargaining table, and when Azula offered terms more generous than they expected (yet still highly favourable to her), they might be willing to accept. Empty bellies always talked the loudest, and it would improve her standing in the eyes of others. She would not be a mere butcher but a negotiator, someone who could be counted on to rule wisely and without unnecessary bloodshed.

“Perhaps,” Azula said, patting Professor Radical on the back. “Perhaps.” She chuckled. “You still haven’t told me where you come from. I’ve certainly never met a hamster like you before.”

X    X     X

Author’s Notes

Professor Radical dies of old age... and awakens somewhere else. Being the most Machiavellian of hamsters, it’s only a matter of time before he makes his mark. And who better to team up with than a self-proclaim people person?

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here. I’ve recently released two stories, Attempted Adventuring and Surviving Quarantine, as well as two audiobooks, Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Army of Golems and Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire. If you like humour, action, and adventure, be sure to check them out.

#avatar the last airbender #final rose #fanfiction #azula #professor radical

[littlemisssquiggles]

Pinehead Headcanons: Oscar’s Love For His Rose

While I understand that Ruby is down in Mantle dealing with the evacuation, a part of me would still love for her to somehow wind up back up in Atlas in time for Oscar’s inevitable brawl with the Fake Rose. I want it for the obvious soap opera moment with the “evil twin”.

Y’know how those soap operas would always toss in some drama involving an evil doppelganger of one of the main characters targeting their love interest out of spite and revenge?

 Somehow I just can’t shake the image of Fake Rose Neo kissing Oscar or trying to kiss Oscar long enough for him to let his guard down for Neo to sneakily snatch the Relic away from him; just as Ruby rounds the corner and catches them in the act.

This will most likely not happen in the actual canon but, it’s funny to think about. Especially when I imagine the aftermath of Ruby low-key being salty and possibly just a smidge bit jealous that someone else got to kiss Oscar; especially when it was another girl using her face.

Plus the main reason I want Ruby to be present for Oscar’s clash with the Fake Rose is to see whether or not my Pinehead assumptions of Oscar unlocking his semblance to protect and/or save Ruby would come true. Not to mention that I would love to see a moment where Oscar is caught between his true Rose and the Fake Rose; forced to figure out which is which.

Or perhaps…it’s a case where Oscar is fighting Neo on his own but she uses Ruby’s form for the entire fight to mess with Oscar and for some reason Oscar finds it difficult to fight his opponent when she’s wearing the face of the girl he cares about. But eventually, Oscar is able to steel himself up---probably with Oz’s encouragement from within his mind urging him to look inside himself and know who stands before him---and see through Neo’s disguise. He knows she’s not Ruby. She may wear her face and look back at him with the same beautiful silver eyes that caught his gaze the first time he met her, but Neo wasn’t Ruby. She wasn’t Oscar’s true Rose and once he realized that, let’s say…this is the point where Oscar unlocks his semblance and shatters Neo’s Illusions.

This justifies why I really want Oscar’s semblance to be Nullification or some kind of ability that cancels out the effects of another’s semblance.

I also want to toy with the concept of Oscar’s semblance enabling him to permanently stop someone from using their semblance; at least while they are standing within range of him; for the nod to Princess Ozma from the Wizard of Oz series who was able to cast a de-aging spell that kept the People of Oz from aging unless they left Oz.

I’m just imagining Neo trying to use her semblance again on Oscar only to realize in horror that her powers no longer work. At least they no longer work so long as she is within range of Oscar whose semblance cancels hers out, rendering her powerless against him.

This is why I want this to be Oscar’s hidden power. Not only for the reference to his fairy-tale inspiration but also because this is the type of power I can expect others to be envious of, as Ruby commented. Having someone on your team who cancels out other people’s semblances and prevents them from using them while in range of that person---that’s an amazing ability to have. Then again, this is only my views on that.

Unlike the Little Prince who didn’t get to reunite with his beloved rose in the end, I like the idea of Oscar reuniting with Ruby following his fight with Neo and the People of Mantle are safe up in Atlas and the two share another moment where Oscar either flashes Ruby another one of his classic soft looks that’s only reserved for her or…in a move that he’s never done before, Oscar embraces Ruby, catching her off guard in a welcoming hug while whispering happily in her ear how genuinely happy he was to see her again meaning that he was just relieved to be back with his Rose and not some kind of imposter. Y’know what I mean?

It’d be interesting if his fight with Neo helps Oscar to see how much Ruby means to him.

Ironically, in Japanese mythology, fox spirits are known for being tricksters and shapeshifters. Neo is able to change her form due to her illusions semblance similar to fox spirits. So funnily enough, Neo sort of represents the Fox in Oscar’s Little Prince story but not in the way I pegged it.

In the Little Prince story, it was through the Fox and its teachings that the Prince was finally able to understand his feelings toward his Rose. The Fox helped the Prince to realize the value of his Rose to him and his responsibility to her. I think I owe an apology to @ezroar​. Once upon a time, you asked me if Neo could’ve been the Fox in Oscar’s Little Prince story and at the time, I told you I disagreed with that theory since I more felt that Nora embodied the Fox’s personality and message than Neo.

But now, given what was teased in the last episode, Neo might end up playing the role of both the Fake Rose and the Fox to Oscar; at least by my assumptions. It’d be interesting if following his clash with Neo, much like the Prince, Oscar’s takeaway from the fight is the full realization of how much he values Ruby; how truly important she is to him and from this, Oscar gains a newfound motivation to do everything in his power to always support Ruby because not only does he believe in her but he also genuinely loves her; flaws and all. Thus, it changes the way Oscar looks to Ruby moving forward.

If romance is in the cards for the Rosegardening Rosebuds, it’d d be pretty sweet if that’s what Ruby ends up falling love with Oscar for---because of how much he is able to understand her and support her because of it.

Like it’s a scenario where Oscar sees Ruby’s faults and while he may challenge her on her stances from time to time, he doesn’t make it his goal to belittle her for feeling the way she feels or her mistakes. And even in moments where he is forced to show a little ‘tough love’ with her; particularly when he senses she’s not being completely truthful, it’s done in a way to get her to be honest with herself about how she feels.

I’m just going to be upfront about my stance on this---part of my reason for supporting the Rosegarden ship, both as a close friendship and a potential romance is because I believe Oscar would be a great partner to Ruby. While they don’t share any history from the Beacon days as Ruby does with her other friends, to me Oscar’s connection to Ruby is unique. Their rapport with one another and the way he engages with her and shows support of her; particularly in moments of conflict feels different from the support she receives from her other friends. Basically what I’m saying that the Rosegarden bond is special in its own way; whether platonic or something much stronger.

 I just want to see Oscar realize his love for Ruby but his understanding of his feelings for her is handled with the same level of maturity as we’ve already seen from Oscar. 

His love for his rose doesn’t really change his behaviour and treatment towards Ruby. Oscar doesn’t become a bumbling awkward butt around Ruby. But rather Oscar becomes more motivated to be more responsible for looking out for her well-being; much like the Little Prince.

“People have forgotten this truth. But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed. You’re responsible for your rose.”

More Pinehead Headcanons

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

#rwby #oscar pine #ruby rose #oscar and ruby #rwby rosegarden #pinehead headcanons #squiggles pinehead headcanons #rwby theories #rwby volume 7 theories #rwby volume 7 spoilers

[fatefulfaerie]

A Man With Two Souls II

Oscars' eyes opened slowly as he felt once more the floor beneath him.

He didn't say anything to the Cotta-Arcs, as they had been so hospitable, but if he were honest, the sleeping bag didn't do much. Besides, it was easier to attribute his inability to sleep to the cold floor beneath him than the worried thoughts in his mind.

He tossed to the other side, closing his eyes to try to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a big day, and they had already spent most of the night planning the airship heist.

Well, it had mostly been Jaune and Ruby.

Oscar always felt that they were most fit to be leaders, which is why he listened attentively to their plans. Weiss, Blake, Yang chimed in every once in a while, but Maria was the most vocal with her many insults towards Caroline Cordovin. And, of course, Qrow, who sat silently on the couch that was farthest away from the group with crossed arms.

Oscar sat up in his sleeping bag with a sigh, looking out at them now, sleeping.

Of course they were sleeping, they probably fell asleep as soon as their heads met the pillow.

The guest bedroom they were given wasn't too small, Maria and Qrow taking the two beds and Jaune in a sleeping bag across the room from Oscar. Ren and Nora were between them, always starting out separate and then inching closer to each other almost subconsciously throughout the night.

At the moment, they slept with their hands clasped in each other, but Oscar wouldn't be surprised if they got closer.

He didn't know much about them, how they met, but he had a feeling that it was quite traumatic, and that they needed each other because of it.

Oscar slipped the sleeping bag off his legs before standing up and heading downstairs.

A small glance to his right was enough to see team RWBY as he descended, Yang sprawled out every which way on one couch and Weiss neatly curled up on another.

Ruby was the only one not on one of the three couches, the young huntress in a sleeping bag on the floor.

Oscar walked past them once reaching the end of the stairs, flicking on the light of the kitchen.

Glass in hand, he poured himself some water before looking into the reflection it gave, the tan, almost golden specs swimming in his green eyes. He'd almost forgotten what they used to look like before all this.

Life was so much simpler back then.

"Can't sleep?"

Completely taken by surprise, Oscar dropped the glass on the floor, turning around with a gasp.

"Sorry," Ruby said with a small smile.

"It's okay," Oscar said, still a bit flustered, "it's just water."

He looked down at his feet for just a second and continued,

"And some broken glass…"

"Here," Ruby said as she came forward, "let me help you."

"Thanks," Oscar said as they both knelt, picking up the shards.

"Of course," said Ruby, "it is kind of my fault for startling you."

There was a pause before panic washed over Oscar, turning his head quickly and asking,

"Wait, I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No," Ruby said, "I…I was already awake."

She said those words rather quickly, Oscar hesitating asking why, and if everything was okay.

What a stupid question, the girl beside him had been through so much, of course everything wasn't okay.

So he didn't ask.

"I think that's the last of it," Oscar said as he stood up, Ruby gingerly wiping one hand off with the other above the trashcan.

"Mind if I join you?" Ruby asked.

"Join me?" Oscar retorted.

Ruby gave a small giggle.

"You were about to have a glass of water," she reminded him with a smile.

"Oh…right…" he said nervously, Ruby reaching into a cupboard and grabbing two more glasses.

Oscar watched as she refilled the first with water, but then reached in the fridge to fill the second with milk.

She handed him the first before taking her own, them both hopping to sit on opposite countertops to face each other.

Yet now it was Ruby who was looking into her drink and not drinking it, Oscar taking a sip of his water before noticing.

"Ruby…"

"Hm," she said as she tilted her head back up, her tone perky and joyous, as if the sad eyes she had just seconds ago never existed.

"S-sorry, I must have lost my train of thought for a second," she said before taking a gulp of milk and putting it down on the counter beside where she sat.

"How've you been holding up?" she asked Oscar.

"You don't have to do that, you know," Oscar said in reply.

"Do what?" Ruby asked with a slight tip of her head.

"Neglect yourself to care about other people," Oscar stated.

"Well, that's what being a huntress is about," Ruby argued casually with a shrug.

"And kill yourself in the process?" Oscar said sharply, Rubys' silver eyes blinking wide, "that doesn't seem very caring to me."

Oscar surprised himself that he had silenced Ruby, and that he was talking so outright with her now. But the opportunity was here now, he couldn't waste it.

"You keep pushing things aside to stay positive for everyone else," Oscar continued, "but what about you?"

"I'm a leader," Ruby said, that same casual and cheery tone now a bit quieter.

"You told me once that I'm my own person," Oscar said, "and while I can't say that it truly applies to me, it does to you. You need to think of yourself as a person first, and then a leader. It's not good for you to bottle up everything."

"We have to stay strong," Ruby said her eyebrows furrowing, "to keep people alive. I have to put my team first."

Oscar shook his head.

"This isn't strength."

"Staying optimistic and caring about others," Ruby started, a hint of frustration in her voice, "that's what you're nitpicking?! That's what the world needs! That's what all of us need!"

"I'm not talking about the rest of the world," Oscar said in reply, "I'm talking about you. Sure, in battle hope goes a long way, but what about now. Right here, right now. The moment you need to talk about something and you don't. Please, tell me what's wrong. If not me than anyone, Yang…Qrow…Weiss…this can't be healthy."

Ruby sighed, her eyes opening and closing slowly.

'You know, you don't give yourself enough credit'

Maria's voice rung in her ears, Ruby wondering if that's what she meant all along.

"You're right," she said, to Oscars' surprise.

Ruby took a sip from her milk before holding it in her hands, her head downcast and her eyes swimming with brooding thoughts.

"I've been thinking about my mom a lot recently," Ruby said in a voice Oscar had never heard before. Weak and vulnerable, but Oscar would only describe it as strong.

"Summer Rose," Oscar said, Ruby's head popping up in surprise.

"S-sorry," he said almost immediately, "it popped in my head. Ozpin must have known her."

"He did," Ruby said, "in fact that's why…"

Ruby stopped herself by biting her lip, remembering her present company.

But somehow Oscar didn't need to her to finish the sentence to catch her meaning.

"I'm sorry," Oscar said, his expression melting.

"It's not your fault," Ruby said with a shake of her head.

"But it will be," Oscar said quietly, silencing Ruby completely.

She didn't know how to argue with that.

"Qrow never talks about how she went missing," Ruby said, "what the mission was, but…I think he knows more than he lets on. Tai was home with us and Raven was long gone by then. I always figured Qrow had the answers but…he never brought it up, even when I asked."

Ruby looked up, as if to ward away tears, to deny that they were coming.

"I always thought she died a hero, for a just cause…I think Qrow did too…but now…"

She brought her head back level with Oscars' eye-line.

"She didn't know what she was really fighting for…and know that I do…I can't help but feel it wrong. I know we have to get the relic back to Atlas, and to protect the people of Remnant from Grimm, but…I can't ask my teammates to continue living a life of survival when the world continues to get more and more dangerous, especially when the way forward is so…foggy. I guess that's what concerns me the most…that my hope will run out."

"Look at me, doubting everything I've ever known," she continued, "you'd think one of the Apathy Grimm followed us to Argus."

"I'd think we'd notice if something was following us," Oscar mused.

Ruby let out a snort of laughter and replied with,

"Yeah."

"I wish I'd known her," Oscar said, "your mother, I mean. I know I technically did but…I don't remember much."

"I've been told she's a lot like me, so I guess you have met her…in a way."

Oscar nodded and smiled, finishing the last of his water.

"Hey, Ruby," he prompted.

"Yeah," she said in reply.

"Are you scared?" he asked.

"More than you realize," Ruby replied, inducing Oscar to nod slowly in acknowledgement.

"But hey," she continued, "at least we're trying."

"Right."

#rwby #team rwby #jnpr #team jnpr #Oscar Pine #ruby rose #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #Ozpin #nora valkyrie #lie ren #renora #rosegarden #rwby 6 #rwby 7 #summer rose #team strq #maria calavera #qrow branwen

[dropsofletters]

atlas and axis

title: atlas and axis pairing: ten/reader genre: enemies to lovers!au/jazz bar!au/performer!au/trumpeter!au summary: scientifically speaking, the atlas and axis are meant to go together to help one another, but in real life…people don’t realize they need each other. ten has his dreams crushed when he is told he has to perform at a jazz bar, with a boring crowd and the smell of cigarettes lingering around. however, what he did not expect is to gain an enemy there–and a trumpeter, out of all things! type: fluff/humor/romance/angst word count: 20,176 (i got inspired someone help me)

When Ten hates someone, he does it in capital letters, in bold, in cursive, loud and boisterous and honest. He does it like he means it, and he sure as hell does.

But it’s not like he hates a lot of things—more so like he is annoyed by a lot of them. For example, those people that claim that a fitness life is the only way of living surely make him have a headache, for he only has so much time in his life to be hearing someone talking about the gym twenty-four hours of the seven days of the week. He hates ordinariness, as stupid and pompous as it could sound, he hates people who see what they want to see and never think about the other side of the spectrum. Close minded individuals. Those who think are always right. And definitely, he is an open-minded man, but his brain is a ticking bomb that can only handle so much. To certain extent, he loves annoying people…but no one can ever do such thing for him.

September. Most of the time, Ten calls September the boring sibling of all the months. Normally, school is at its peak at that moment, jobs are more difficult to find, dancers don’t have as many gigs as they should which leads him to possible unemployment—because no matter how good he is, around that time he can only find dance lessons for snotty kids with parents that don’t want to take care of them after school in private schools. Sure, he has taken that job one or two times in his life after he dropped out of college and decided to pursue dancing fulltime, but it lowers his standards a bit. Ten is the type of dancer that wants lights on him, to choreograph his own steps, to stand in practice rooms at every given chance he can and to work with artists like him, instead of it being a way of teaching. Dancing is technique, quite clearly, but for him it has included fun throughout his entire life.

September is also the time Ten remembers that Sicheng’s birthday is on October, and he gets one of those shivers down his spine when he thinks he has forgotten of his friend’s birthday only to realize that it’s okay. One more month. He can procrastinate and wait until there’s only two days left for Sicheng’s birthday and buy some present on his own, but for now…he doesn’t want to even remember Sicheng’s existence. The man, ever so charismatic in his own shy, adorable way also had a wicked side to him and when Ten, oh-so-desperately and definitely a bit out of his mind, had asked him to help him find a job, because he’s at the verge of creating a ‘sugar baby’ account for himself before he goes bankrupt, Sicheng decided to show those colors of his that aren’t so pretty.

For, Ten can dance a thousand of genres—pop, hip hop, even rock if given the chance. But jazz, oh dear lord, jazz and blues just remind him of his first few days in a dancing academy when he would yawn on the back of his hand because he’s just not much of a conceptual person. He likes to practice, and the instructor that had given him what was called ‘the theory of jazz’ was the epitome of boring. That class was the personification of a comfortable bed in a cold night, with fluffy covers covering him while he smells like the soap he used in the shower he took before bed. Yes, that’s right, it simply spoke of wanting to make him go to sleep.

“I hate you.” Ten spits out once he enters the jazz bar that Sicheng had been talking about throughout the entire ride. He almost wants to run out of there, get inside Sicheng’s car and simply throw a tantrum so he wouldn’t even have to step a foot there, but he knows he needs the job. He needs to face that part of his childhood that he wasn’t so much in love with. The part where he actually thought he was not good at dancing, the only moment that the ever-so-confident Ten felt like he didn’t fit in. Everyone was good at the classical two step technique that Mrs. James had explained in that goddamned class about jazz, but Ten wasn’t. Simple as that.

Although, the place is pretty looking. A mix between a strip-club and a lounge bar, classier than both if he was honest. He expected neon lights and the smell of alcohol in the air, like rum and coke most preferably, but instead he was met with champagne and people in exquisite dresses and suits. Red lights bathed the dark place in its cue, turning off slowly and starting once again in a sequence of red, white and yellow given by the atmosphere and the architecture of the place. He sees the bartenders, dressed quite elegantly, and the band on top of the stage play a tune that is the most generous way of describing jazz. They are the concept of it, really.

For a moment, Ten is thankful that he had actually listened to Sicheng when the man said to go a little bit dressed up to the place, because he would have opted for a t-shirt and jeans otherwise, maybe some joggers because he thought he was going to dance, but in his button down and pants, with his black hair pushed back, he looks like he had thought of what to wear. “Don’t hate me. I know the owners of this jazz bar, and they want to expand their talents a little bit. You’re a good dancer and—”

“You know I don’t really like dancing anything…jazzy.” His lips pucker up, as if he’s one step away from simply accepting that going bankrupt happens to almost ninety-seven percent of the college drop-outs and that he could always call his mom to save him a spot on his old room, and cuddle her because his big dream of becoming a superstar aches to come true but it doesn’t.

“It’s a job.”

“Being a stripper is also one, that doesn’t mean I want to become one.”

Sicheng quirks an eyebrow at that, parting his lips as if to say ‘you would’, but instead, he keeps his mouth shut and decides to change the topic. “But I’ve already found you a spot here, and it would be great for you to actually try something out. You know you’re good in your genres, but you should expand your options a bit.” The taller man tugs at his friend’s shoulder to keep him from bumping into someone that was trying to move somewhere else and Ten cusses under his breath at the type of manners that exist in such an expensive place. “And you’d be the main show. That’s what you’ve always wanted.”

Maybe, Ten just really knows his worth as a dancer, or he’s a tad bit egotistic, but the thought of being able to portray his hard work in a stage in front of everyone to enjoy seems delightful for him. The blaring lights casting upon him, the aching silence that indicates people are only looking at him, the smile on his face when he gets to the breaking point when he finally starts to hear cheers. He grew obsessed to the feeling when he was younger, and it hadn’t been the same ever since. “I guess,” Ten breathes out, trying to remember the breathing techniques that he learned in one of the many dance shows that he had been in, but they are not working. It’s not common for him to get nervous, if anything, he could count with one hand the amount of times he had truly been nervous, but he’s not sure he can fulfill this job—

“Let’s go meet the boss and the band, then. I’m sure they’re about to finish their set.” That’s another thing—the work hours. Normally, two on a Saturday midnight sounded like a good time for people to be out partying, drinking and enjoying anything that it is that touches their soul, but Ten hasn’t really worked at such time. Part of him thinks that maybe he’ll fall asleep during his set, if he does not rest sufficiently, and that’s bothersome.

Ten raises one finger in the air. “Give me a second.” With one of those enchanting smile of his, where his eyes turn into half-moons and his nose scrunches up a bit, Ten leans over the bar’s counter as he speaks quickly. “Can I have some tequila, please?”

But his friend is not having it, taking him by the arm and dragging him backstage as he talks over the music. “You’re—Ten, no, I’m not letting you meet your new boss and coworkers drunk. Just no.”

“You know I don’t get drunk easily.” Ten points out with a smile and Sicheng actually cackles at that.

“Say that to the endless videos I have of you being a little lightweight bitch.”

“That’s not—”

“Do you want me to look them up? We still have some time.”

“No, thank you.”

It’s 1971 and a couple falls in love quick enough to have them diving in a business together, based on what united them—music, but not only music in general, but the classy aspect of it that only lost itself more and more with the pass of time. The owners of the jazz bar are an old couple that look like they have been drenched in water for a little bit longer than usual, but that’s just their age showing the amount of hard work they had put into the business that is now beaming and gleaming with its originality. Ten can’t say that he is not surprised when he sees what is in store backstage, with changing rooms and vanities, with strange amounts of instruments and delicately placed snack tables for the crowded band that plays there on Friday, Saturday and Sunday’s nights. He is welcomed by tight smiles, soft speaking voices and compliments, turns out that Sicheng has showed them a lengthy amount of good videos about him, not the ones that include him dragging himself on the floor when drunk. Dance practices, showcases, rehearsals, everything has been shown to them and he is basked with love and support coming from people who know music, at least the slightest bit.

Pleasantly surprised, he remains, as he hears the solos that come with certain instruments—and maybe, Ten has never been a fan of trumpeters or cellists, but he should pay more attention to them. With a cookie in between his lips and his eyes trained on the old woman that talks to him about dance, he feels like maybe, he had misjudged the place. Sure, it’s not his zone and he doesn’t think he will be happy dancing jazz at all…but at least, there’s good people surrounding him in his own picky misery. Dance is to him like water, and a normal human being needs—at the very least—, an intake of two point one liters per day. Duplicate that and make it an addiction, mixed with his ambition and his perfectionist ways, along with his own pride and you get Ten. He breathes, eats, sleeps and does anything that has to do with dancing.

It’s a way of living, he says, whenever someone asks him why he had picked dancing as something more than his hobby, but the reality stands in nothing more than knowing that Ten is the symbolism of art, one with it, one to live for it, and to die to give out that part of himself to the world.

It is not the type of atmosphere he is used to, quite clearly, he realizes when he sees the group going backstage with smiles on their faces and definitely not a single phone on their hands to take a picture of the moment. Their stage outfits are not outstanding, there isn’t sweat coating their skins, and they don’t look like they had moved all that much, really. Past the singer, that looks the tiniest bit tired, but that’s not something a bottle of water can’t fix. He is perplexed, because one, he is used to smaller groups of people—he once worked in a musical with twenty other people in the same routine, and it was tiring, but the group consisted of fifteen members at a minimum. All with different instruments, all looking like they were going to go to a funeral with their dark clothing and Sicheng seems to know them, which is even more surprising, because the ballet dance instructor immediately raises his hand to wave at a few of them.

“These are my favorite group in the whole entire world. Not only are they good, but they are also extremely humble.” The old woman explains and a part of Ten feels a little bit bad. Maybe, he had belittled those who were surrounded by jazz—it shouldn’t be that bad; if anything, they are probably talented in their own outstanding ways. She pushes his body forward and Ten smiles, making sure to look as angelic as possible because he has learned something while studying dance. First impressions are important, the most important, in fact. With a flick of her hand, the old woman introduces the group before her. “They have been childhood friends forever. They lived in the same neighborhood, but don’t worry, don’t worry—” Ten is clutched quite tightly by the woman, making him tighten the muscles around his lips in slight pain. What is it with grandmas and being a little bit too strong? “They’ll take you in nicely.”

The singer, whose plump lips and slightly squared face were the main point of his look, nodded his head with a smile. “We’re a big group, but we have always wanted a dancer. Some of our members don’t really like being the center of the show.”

“That, I do like.” Ten points out before extending his hand. “I’m Ten.”

“Taeil.” The man that had probably captured the attention of almost everyone in the crowd then pointed behind him, going over all the names. He catches some of them, although he is sure he will be able to remember them after a conversation with Sicheng and probably some Instagram searches. He catches Rose somewhere in there, Jihyo is also a name that stands out to him, Joohyuk, Noah and then, the singer pointed at the person at the very corner, downing a bottle of water as if it was the last thing she was going to have. Ten had looked at her, mainly because of the trumpet that still was in between her fingers and how she seemed to be the type of person that he would normally be into. Attraction was such a weird thing, but in a quick scan across the room, he could tell he wouldn’t mind trying one or two things to get her attention—much more when the darkness of her clothes pops out with the burgundy of her lips. “That’s our trumpeter. Strongest lungs you will find in the industry.”

“That’s strange coming from a singer.” Ten adds in between a chuckle and Taeil simply shrugs his shoulders.

“I give credit where it’s due.”

Instead of lingering on compliments towards the main man of the group, he walks forward to where she is, making sure to do one of his once-over’s towards someone to take a good glance of her. The bottle in between her lips separates slightly to look at him and she quirks an eyebrow. “Like I said, I’m Ten. I really looked forward to work with you guys…so...I really hope we become close, okay?” He’s lying, but Ten makes sure to drop his voice slightly, coated in honey and sugar and everything sweet. Only that, of course, the woman gives a faint, tight-lipped smile before returning to her water bottle. Someone calls her name in a stutter, only to have her pointing to her throat.

“Oh right, she’s sick.” Joohyuk says in between a chuckle before Ten’s attention is turned towards the tall man. “I’m sure she’s saying ‘nice to meet you’ in a very awkward tone, just that she can’t actually voice it out.”

But Ten doesn’t know if he should believe her, given that— “Wasn’t she playing the trumpet just a few minutes ago—? Then, how did she—?”

The old man that owns the jazz bar claps his hands together, slipping his head in between his wife’s and Sicheng’s shoulders to speak with an enchanting smile on his face. “I asked our bartender to bring us the best bottle of wine. Twenty years waiting for this moment and I’m going to spend it on you, Ten. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t know if he should feel welcomed—much more when he is sure that the trumpeter doesn’t like him one bit, not by the way she looks at him and when he catches her, she looks to the side. If she had a trumpet solo just a few minutes ago, then he is sure her voice works just fine. However, before he could linger on the thought, Sicheng is already doing the humble thing to do: deny such a gesture, but Ten is thankful.

Much more when he gets to see the trumpeter’s expression…

The new guy in the bar got the best bottle of wine coming from the boss, and what did she get? Not a sore throat, but definitely Ten’s hatred.

🎺

“I—Uh, Ten! Uh, can you wait out for a second? We’re kind of—”

“Definitely not cleaning up. Don’t think that!”

To see Joohyuk and Jihyo, both holding brushes and opening the door for him with fake smiles on their faces, was definitely not what Ten expected when he got ready to go to their practice room. Well, if this is even considered a practice room. The group definitely rented a place to practice three days out of the week, all for Saturdays and Sundays to have different song sets to play for their crowd, all depending on the concept of the night or if there’s a special event, but it isn’t the most organized. In comparison, he would say a high-school band’s garage practice spot is equal to what they have. He hears the sound of music, probably coming from some speakers, and somewhere in between the creak of the door he sees one of the members—Kin, he thinks his name is—mopping around the floor.

He wants to laugh. Simply because those people, the members of the jazz group that the owners of his new workplace had endlessly talked about, are nervous to meet up with him. It is a new type of collaboration and while at the very beginning he was more than annoyed, now he is a bit curious. Or maybe he is cold, standing outside of the practice room with sweatpants and a t-shirt, at the beginning of the cold weather in the city, carrying a bag filled with the necessities for a casual afternoon of dancing.

“Alright, I saw the mop. I can help you clean up.” Ten says, not wanting to seem anything like a stuck-up guy, and he pushes the door a little bit more just to see that, indeed, the group is cleaning and quite surprisingly, the trumpeter that had yet to speak a word to him was dusting something off the floor. Bread crumbs, maybe, or her ego that seems to be getting in her way because she can’t even have proper manners when meeting someone. Ten can’t say that he thought about her over the weekend—only that he did, and he drove Sicheng insane with the amount of times he talked about the subject.

“Seriously, Sicheng? You tell me that girl wasn’t that bad? She could have easily just spat on my face and it would have felt the same as to what she did to me.” He said while in the car with the man in question, and sure, he may have been a little bit enraged—but he meant everything he said!

On Sunday, he sent a picture to a group-chat he shares with his closest friends of the group he is working with—taken from the Instagram account they have itself. Only to, of course, as pettily as he lives by, say a comment along the lines of: “If you guys ever come across that girl holding a trumpet in the picture. Run. Away.”

And finally, on Monday, a day before he met up with the group once again, he told Sicheng the most ridiculous thing ever, and Sicheng almost kicked him for being so immature when he is already over twenty, but that is how Ten is. He feels and lives like no other, and even more in social environments. “I swear, and I say this to you Sicheng, that I hate that girl. I will never talk to her. Ever.”

Jihyo tries to stop him when he takes the broom from between her fingers, deciding to do one or two swipes across the floor with uncertainty, because if there is something he actually hates doing is cleaning. Nonetheless, he catches a glimpse—and in first row, which is even more exciting—of the trumpeter’s face when he gets greetings from the rest of the group; some confused, some happy and none from her.

At this point, he knows what he is doing. He is trying to get a reaction out of her, because there is nothing more pleasing than winning over someone when they don’t know you’re even playing. His head is set on that, and while it could have been a bad day for the woman, and perhaps she didn’t want to speak to anyone, his mind is not one for rationality at that moment. First impressions stay with him, they cling to his soul and he silently wins whatever he is thinking about.

No one in their right mind would even think about competing against Ten. It’s a bullet to the heart and a regret on the long run.

“Cute place.” With a sneaky glance, he realizes her jaw tightens, her eyes loll back slightly and she grips her trumpet even tighter. She is cleaning the instruments, as it seems. Ten lives and loves when he can get away with what he wants. He did it plenty of times in the past and will continue to do it, given the opportunity for the rest of his life.

Taeil is not embarrassed, though, not even remotely surprised as he nods his head. “Yeah, we never clean it up.”

“It’s not like we have to, either way.” Joohyuk says from someone in the room before he picks up his instrument. “But since you’re here, I guess we should actually start rehearsing. You’re a busy guy, I imagine.”

Define busy. A person who has absolutely no time to deal or cope with mundanities. Ten has all the time of the world nowadays. Last weekend, he spent hours and hours on YouTube, supposedly working on what would be his jazz technique, but videos about gossip on the entertainment industry had led him to a trail of nothingness, mixed with procrastination and definitely less time on his hands. However, he stands proudly, and he only manages to release what seems to be a small ‘yes, so let’s get to work!’ in excitement.

There are a lot of new things in his life. A new city, only six months prior to that moment having moved to the place he lives in currently. A new job. A new music genre…and a new enemy, because he definitely catches the way Jihyo cusses at her when she fights for her rights by not standing up.

If she’s stubborn, then Ten is a hundred times that.

The group get on to playing their own songs, and Ten nods his head as he is transported to another world. He imagines himself in some place in Bogota, taking a sip of an Americano with the sun setting in front of him. The world is warm, although the atmosphere is cold, and he is alone by a table as he waits for something to hit him. The news that the world is ending, maybe, or a new love affair that never arrives. He waits and ponders, he is living life in a relaxed manner in this world that music created—but it’s not him. Ten is not the type to sit down just to have coffee, to take a notebook out just to write down love notes. Ten is the bustling city, the cups of coffee that come with energy, the contemporary feel of jazz, but definitely not the romantic aspect that comes with it.

Somewhere, he hears one of the members playing the piano and he notices just how saddening the song can be. It’s a romantic type of jazz, definitely for the ones that go to the bar in order to forget about their obnoxiously loud day, but it is not the type of performance Ten wants to pull to the world. He wants modernity, not so much of a softened tone, he wants to bring the streets to music in the sound of an upbeat tune, so with a few clapping motions after the song ends, Ten decides to give a piece of his mind.

“Love it. Really. You guys are extremely talented. But…” There is always something that stops people in life. Thinking about it, Ten figures out that there has been plenty of times where his dreams seemed to be stopped by something, like his ever-loving relationship with the modern side of contemporary dance but hating the absolute boringness of jazz. And the teacher that taught him techniques from Broadway and whatnot. “I need something more upbeat. I think that we can create something more…city-like. I want to feel like I am in the city with your music, so more upbeat and less of the piano solo. I think? Saxophones are great, maybe a quicker tempo would be great.”

The drummer, Joohyuk, looks up from his set before picking up the pace of the song while all the eyes in the room settled on him. “Something like this?”

Ten nods his head, smiling at the thought of how it sounds. “Yes. That’s exactly it. I want something more upbeat, so maybe try to do it again? If you guys don’t mind, of course.” As if the world is on his side, Taeil shrugs his shoulders before adding:

“We don’t mind.”

For a moment, he looks at the trumpeter that wants to say something but she is interrupted by the sound of music starting. Quite clearly, she rolls her eyes and starts playing, and Ten takes that as a cue to imagine what the choreography would look like. He wants to convey an emotion, with the way the song moves he thinks of a midnight love affair, of wanting to seduce someone only to leave them hanging. He’s an incubus, looking for his prey only to leave them hanging. He’s class as a term, a picture of him is splattered in the dictionary in this case scenario, he only dresses in suits and pretends to be a man of good when he’s all kinds of mischief. He wears those tacky hats and red colors, and he already comes up with the movements on his feet by the time he hears the song a second time. This time faster, and he can imagine what he can do with his outfit as well, maybe a smile plastered on his face and a bit of a backstory at the beginning of the song. He feels a connection with this change, and by the time that same song was played a third time, Ten already knew what he wanted to do. All he had to do was polish the absolute shit out of the choreography.

“See? That’s what you should do. Jazz is not supposed to be sad. People who go out to drink want to be taken to another world. You guys need to do that.” Most people seem to be listening to him, but he watches the trumpeter sigh before raising her hand in the air, as if asking a teacher to let her speak. Ten almost wants to turn his back and start dancing once again, but he doesn’t want to lower himself to the type of pettiness she has within her. After calling her name and seeing her eyes gleam with hatred, Ten smiles. “Yes? Is there anything you want to say?”

“I don’t think we should change our entire style just because you want to. We’re a group.” Seriously, Ten can’t imagine what type of person w0uld even decide to date someone with such little manners. Instead, he decides to fight back, because he doesn’t have time to think about impossibilities.

Such a pretty face, she had, and such a horribly speaking voice. “Oh, so you talk?” The question has her wiping the frown off her face momentarily, showing nothing less than surprise before she goes back to being her mad self. “Besides, I don’t think there is much of a problem. As a musician, you should know that experimenting is part of the deal.”

“Yes, but it’s a collaboration we’re dealing with, and you’re the newest one in the equation. So that means, you don’t get a say on changing our music entirely just for your pleasure.” And of course, she had to have that rebellious tone within her, like she is fighting against a politician for a cause. The members of her team, however, seem mortified, even hearing one of them whispering to her ‘what are you doing?!’ as Ten has a stare-off with the woman.

“I just changed the beat. If I had changed it entirely, we’d be playing rock or something. Don’t you think?”

She scoffs. “Come on, Ten, we all know you’d rather work with anyone but us.”

The man chuckles, turning around and rising his laughter a few decibels. “Okay, sure. Where did you even hear that?” He turns around once again, noticing that the woman had tried to follow after him. Strangely enough, Ten realizes then that she looks at beautiful as ever, her hair albeit messy, her gaze practically sending daggers at him, and it’s killing him softly. “You’re assuming things, and that’s not a way of speaking to a collaborator. So, you say, that people don’t have a say on your music because you’re perfected enough? That’s selfish.”

“Don’t go around and play the victim. You’re changing us, too, as if we need to become something just for you—!” The woman raises her voice before breathing heavily, he thinks he sees her gripping her trumpet tighter but he only smiles. His mother once told him that smiling at the complexities of life would make things easier, and there is no way in hell that she is not questioning his actions right now. “Stop smiling.”

“Why?” Ten’s voice drips with honey, but she’s tired of sweetness. “Am I distracting you?”

“You’re so childish—”

“Enough.” Jihyo indicates through her teeth, taking the trumpeter by the arm to pull her closer to her chest. The older woman, Jihyo in this case, seems to be blushed and flushed about the fact that their trumpeter had talked in such a way. “You don’t get to treat people like that.” Ten catches the whisper Jihyo gives to the woman and he feels like one of those moments where the teacher scolded the person that was bothering him back in elementary school. “We’re so sorry. She is just—We’ve been together as a group for so long, that she just—”

“Yeah, I won’t do it again.” She adds with an eye-roll and the group go back to their spots. However, Ten doesn’t miss the way she throws a glare over her shoulder and he takes that time to raise one of his index fingers up in the air and make a circle with his other hand, thanks to his thumb and pointer finger. The wink he gives her makes her curiousness fall down her face as he mouths.

“One to zero.”

And that’s only the start of a war.

🎺

The nights at the jazz bar are always bustling with excitement. From the stage, with a gleam of a white light falling upon his body, he sees a lot of things. Sometimes, he sees a person falling for another by the bar, normally the bartenders pretend not to exist when people start making out in front of them—and people there are apparently classy, but Ten has seen one too many thigh-grabs and one-night-stand starters to know it’s just the same old world for love. He sees the people enjoying his performance, that most of the time cheer and clap for him when everything is over. Even when he pretends not to, on the lower part of the stage, covered in nothing more than shadows of the night, he sees the trumpeter that he has constantly been battling with for the past three weeks. Silently. It’s a secret argument, of course, he has to keep it professional.

But he would be lying if he said it didn’t irk him to know what was about him that suddenly made her hate him so much. You could put the Devil himself next to Ten, and she would pick the Devil any given time. The group seem to adore him; him and his bright smiles, his sweet gestures of bringing coffee to rehearsals and the way he jokes around with everyone, but there is always that one person that sobers him in his dream. Her eyes catch him and it feels like he is impossibly closer to her whenever he catches her glance, like there is something in between them that has yet to be solved. He doesn’t know what it is, but he thinks they are archenemies—or so he says, it’s easier to explain.

Then, there’s his friend Johnny that says that, perhaps, in another life they had some issues that they could not resolve. Like a couple that pulled away because of misunderstandings but the tension of lust is still there. He said that one night that he went to the jazz bar, and Ten practically made the man eat his words by giving him a glass of tequila.

Some people are just made to hate one another. The whole bullshit of ‘opposites attracting’ comes from mixing science, physics and math with human interaction, and that’s wrong. Ten does think that she is attractive, in the way her lips remained seal and how she always gets nervous before every show; in how she never gets tired of practicing and how she talks excitedly about the trumpeters that she has looked up to her entire life. How her solos, an instrument, connects them both when it comes to art. His steps match her tempo. Her tune matches his style. They are opposites, they match, but once they get off stage, they can barely look at each other.

With a new set-list planned and Ten wearing a fabric of clothing that is digging uncomfortably around his waist—maybe, he should have picked another outfit for his performance—, he moves backstage to find the changing room, fix that one strand of hair that keeps falling over his eyebrow even though he has sleeked his hair back two times by then and in the way there, he sees Joohyuk. As always, Ten greets people like he has known them for his entire life. Perhaps, he is easy-hearted, or he thinks that life is much too short to be living it while thinking of the negative parts of it, like the uncertainty of blossoming friendships, but it is a good trait about him. The waltz on his step, hearing something along the lines of ‘remember, we’re up in forty!’ and that’s all he listens to before he gets to the changing room.

The door was open. That’s his excuse when he walks inside and closes it behind him, only to hear a gasp and lift his gaze up. In there, the first thing he sees while lifting his gaze from the floor is a pair of legs, higher he sees a royal blue dress with the most gorgeous dip in the back. He notices that the person who is wearing the dress is none other than his enemy, leaning her weight on the vanity to finish that one string of eyeliner and she immediately changes her expression from surprise to absolute anger.

“You idiot! The lock is broken. Now we’re going to be locked inside this room!”

For a moment, he wishes there was a rewind button to life because now, after he closed the door behind him, he remembers that there wasn’t really a doorknob on the door anymore, mainly because it was broken and when he looks back, he realizes it’s the same for the insides of the room. The woman seems mortified, pushing the door and trying to get it to open, pulling to the remaining piece of the old doorknob before sighing loudly. Part of his brain is stressed, but the other is thinking that royal blue is now his favorite color. It looks good on her, like the wisdom of the night in human personification.

He’s bothered.

One, he’s locked in a room.

Two, his enemy—and the trumpeter of the group he works with—looks like a dream, and a nightmare filled with clowns sounds much better now. Less intriguing, scarier, and definitely not as inviting as she is right now.

“Sorry.” And three, Ten is prideful, but he also knows he has fucked up. He would have laughed if he was the audience of a sitcom and they were the main characters, seeing that she gives him a glare that screams that she is angry at him. Is it a big surprise? It never is. Ten has grown used to their bickering, silent nowadays but definitely noticeable whenever they are too close.

“Sorry?” She asks. “What am I going to do with a ‘sorry’? An apology isn’t going to open the door, let me tell you that.” Some people wonder about the mysteries of life, about the Mandela Effects that have happened for years to no end, but he clearly is interested in knowing how. How in the world does she look when she is not angry, and also, why is she always angry around him? He thinks he has only seen her smile once, and it was from far away, when his voice and his presence couldn’t even reach her.

“Maybe you could tattoo it on your forehead. You’d be apologizing to the world for your fucking attitude.” Ten whispers, turning around and smiling a bit at what he said. He sits down by the edge of the vanity, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the stages of his enemy. Anger. Confusion. A little bit of intrigue. There, it comes, realization. They are locked in a room. She is locked in a room with Ten—a grease ball of a man that thinks the world is eating from the palm of his hand.

Always one to the rescue, too pure and nice for this mighty world, they hear the sound of Taeil knocking on the door as he says: “You guys, did you get locked in there?”

Well, Sherlock is definitely working his way through Taeil’s brain, as it seems. The woman leans over the door, as if to speak louder to Taeil. “I’m here with the asshole. Can you get the door open?”

“Do you mean Ten?” Taeil puzzles and she sighs deeply.

“Tae, please, can you get me out of here? I really don’t want—”

“Hey, I will try to. Relax.” Ten thinks he sees a smile on her face. Maybe, it is of gratitude towards the singer of her group. “But I don’t know how to yet, so buckle up, alright? I’ll call the Boss.”

Fighting through the urge to scream at the top of her lungs for being there with a person she dislikes, the decides to do as Taeil says. She can’t look away when she realizes Ten is already looking at her, pulling his gaze down to play with her makeup products. The clicking of her heels fill the air as she goes over to where he is, taking the eyeliner from the flat surface and opening it once again to continue with her unfinished wing. He catches her expression, the fluttering of her eyelashes when she finishes the line, how her index finger reaches up to curl her eyelashes up slightly, coated in mascara, and maybe Ten has a bit of curiousness about the woman that seems to be grumpy ninety percent of the time.

Curiousness killed the cat, but Ten has never minded one bit. “Why are you always so pissed off? No—Answer another question instead, why do you hate me exactly?”

Putting the lid on the eyeliner tube, she sighs deeply as she finally connects her gaze with those chocolate eyes of his. They speak of Valentine’s Day, like the man that breaks your heart with a first love so strong that it never leaves you, with giggles and memories clinging to your every romance after that. Ten is not difficult to understand to her. He thinks he owns the world, that he can do anything he want and he will do it, and she can’t stand one bit of it. “It is just—you started this! You came into this place thinking that because you’re a dancer, that you shine more than all of us together…that you can suddenly change everything. Everyone loves you and no one considers that maybe, just maybe, things were great as they were before.”

So, that’s the reason behind her hatred. Envy, in some way, but also the fact that she is afraid of changes. “Music is about development. I don’t think it’s bad that you’re trying something new.” The man looks through the vanity to find some hair gel and he rubs it in between his fingers before fixing his own hair, watching her reflection behind him as he speaks. “And yes, I’m a dancer. Is it so wrong that I’m proud of my art and who I am as a person?”

“It’s wrong when you think your art is the only form of art.”

Ten rolls his eyes at her words, deciding that he already is one point ahead of her, so he might as well continue fighting with all his will. “Is changing the tempo of songs really that big of a deal for you? Because if your lungs are giving out on you for those trumpet solos, you can tell me and I’ll take your situation into consideration.” Like a sharp blade, Ten tries to cut through her, but she perseveres.

She feigns a coo, tilting her head to the side and Ten tries to ignore the little smirk that appears over her face. “Sorry, you’re not getting rid of my trumpet solos. Why? You’re scared they shine more than you, Mr. Superstar?”

“You’re impossible.” Ten complains through gritted teeth and she shrugs her shoulders.

“So are you.”

“I didn’t even do anything to have you hating me!”

“Oh yes, like you’re so innocent. I’m sure you don’t like me that much either!”

Ten huffs out a breath, deciding to grab one of the jackets by the couch nearby and plop it in the middle of the room before pointing to the side she was standing on. “That’s your side of the changing room.” He tells her in a low tone, although the words that leave him are extremely childish. “And this is my side of the changing room. You get here, I sue you.”

“Fine.”

Only that, of course, it wasn’t fifteen minutes of waiting—it was actually a whole hour, and he hears the sound of someone apologizing to them before the entire jazz bar is filled with the sound of the songs he should be dancing to, without an actual trumpet solo, too. He is sitting down near the door, resting his head against the wall as he looks at her. She is doing something to entertain herself, like play with her phone or organize the vanities, and for a moment she looks at peace. It is only when she gets something out of her bag, like a tube of Pringles waiting to be eaten, that she speaks a word.

“Hey, let’s eat something.”

And the barrier is still there, between them as they sit down on the floor with a thrown jacket in between them. She shares with him like she doesn’t mind, probably because she doesn’t, and Ten takes a moment to realize that basked in silence, with the woman close to him as she munches on food, is not so bad of a way of being stranded in the middle of a locked changing room. Surely, she doesn’t say much until the door actually ends up being opened an hour and a half later, but Ten feels like some tension has been taken off their shoulders. They were less harsh with one another for a second, and that has to be progress.

They are fighting the same battles without knowing.

🎺

Two people. Laughter. A jazzy song in the background and a man that looks at them from afar. A man that wants to hide behind his leather jacket or perhaps needs his fake glasses to blur the image of the trumpeter that he is constantly bantering with smiling to one of the bartenders. He shouldn’t feel curious, much more when one of the many shows they have had together is over and he should be heading back home to rest—but it’s been over a month of being enemies with a woman from the very first day they met, and he has never actually seen her enjoy herself with someone that is not part of her own group of friends and music partners. Maybe, it is because Ten only knows certain facts about the woman because he has asked about them—he knows about her birthday, the languages she knows, her starts as a trumpeter for some orchestra and how she grew from that to something some would deem as less, but it’s still incredibly success-worthy.

The man in question is Kim Dongyoung, a man that—at a first glance—seems to be a fitting grumpy individual of the unknown club that she has created. He always wears his uniform nicely, he arrives earlier than other bartenders but his weak point stands on his lack of conversational skills, not because he doesn’t try but because he doesn’t deal well with clingy, overly loud drunk people. The irony of a bartender, to hate drunk people.

But he doesn’t hate her, and he knows it because they talk whenever she finishes a music set, and Ten can make out the way he rubs her ego with congratulatory words that comes from a possible music geek. He watches the way she stands on the other side of the counter, moving her legs back and forth, interlocking them and then repeating the action again. If that is not a clear sign that she is, at the very least, somewhat fidgety with the man that has her being the epitome of a Colgate commercial model with how she smiles at him, then Ten doesn’t know what it is.

Like how a fish swims in the ocean without knowing it will be caught in one way or another, Ten moves over towards her when Dongyoung goes to attend one of the real costumers. Bill Evans would have probably made a jazz song out of the situation, how Ten doesn’t even act upon rationality but out of curiousness. He wants an answer for a question that hasn’t been made and with a push of his body, he ends up sitting beside her. With the way she looks at him, he knows she expected him to be someone else—she looks disgusted at first, like how she would react to a drunken man trying to hit up on her as if she is some cheap hooker, but then her expression changes to misperception. Through their silence, Ten has learned to read her expressions and he feels he would be able to even realize when she is hungry just by a glance.

Not to get it wrong, he has never been an observational man when it comes to feeling, more so for motions thanks to his dancing skills, but it is tough on its own to get her to talk to him, so he takes the time to know her through her actions.

The world never stops, but sometimes it gets confused on its axis. Just like how the spine consists of several osseous pieces that people barely know about, like the atlas and axis. One person needs the other, and they would never even know about it. “So, you and Dongyoung, huh?”

She tilts her head to the side, strangely enough not frowning. If all it takes to make her happy is a conversation with Dongyoung, then Ten is both a bit jealous and surprised. The man doesn’t seem like an injection of joy. “Me and Dongyoung what…?” She asks and Ten smirks, wiggling his eyebrows before she interrupts him. “Oh no, you see? That’s why we can never have a normal conversation. You’re always up about something.”

Ten chuckles at that, finding it easy to talk to her that night for some reason. He’s not drunk, last time he checked, and there is nothing special about the Saturday night, but it feels right to be there at that moment. As if they were meant to be there, at that time. “What? Is it my fault? I never see you smile, but when Dongyoung is around, you’re all smiles and giggles.”

“Maybe, you could learn a thing or two about him.”

“Like what?” The danger in his eyes is quite clear, like he is studying her and she feels like putting a barrier in between the two. Nonetheless, she takes the challenge, not even looking away when she looks up and down his face and scoffs at his mere presence. “Hey, tell me what I should change, if not…I will consider you don’t want to change anything.”

Something in the way she looks at him has some kind of feeling settling on his stomach. Some call it butterflies, but it would be stupid to describe it like that. It feels like she has finally caught him, like he is finally going insane and wanting to get to know someone that has hated him for as long as they have known each other. “Start being humble and I think we’ll be far closer.”

“I’m humble!”

“You act like a diva most of the time.”

“Because I know what I want?”

“Uh, no.” She says, leaning forward and for a moment, they exchange silence. Ten sees the curve of her lips quirking up, but he doesn’t smell alcohol on her breath—this is her sober-self getting closer to him, like a woman that is no longer fearful of the dark. “Because you don’t know what others want. It’s all about what you want. There is more to life than the fundamental things that you see.”

The words grow heavy, because Ten has thought of himself as selfish once or twice. He does admit that he thinks about himself often, just like how he travelled the world without ever looking back, and how he ended love stories to a short conclusion because he is afraid of time going by and not doing him justice, heartbreak coming with the lack of a heartfelt ‘I love you’. “And what is it that you want, goddess of humbleness?”

She shuts her lips, pressing them together before sighing deeply. A sigh of contentment, he likes to think. “A lot of things.”

“That’s ambitious.”

“Do you think that’s wrong? Because I don’t care—”

“I think that’s great. I’m ambitious, too.” Ten presses his cheek against his palm, his finger tracing outlines of circles on the squeaky clean counter before chuckling to himself. “But I think that what you want the most is—well, who you want the most is Dongyoung.” Strangely enough, he wants a word of denial. He wants it to be a ride or die answer, for it to switch something within them—the world will always welcome Ten’s fleeting inquisitiveness.

She scowls at his words, pushing her chest forward and puckering up her lips. “We’re just friends.” She has the dignity to say it and it is not exactly a denial, because Ten knows what friends can mean sometimes when loneliness takes up your every being, but it’s somewhat of a negative inquisition.

“It surely doesn’t seem like it.” His lips part when he hears the sound of a song playing in the background. With what he has learned in the past month of learning jazz music’s history like the palm of his hand, record after record going to his playlist after some research, he recognizes the words of Frank Sinatra. As Time Goes By, he remembers it because Taeil said he hated the song, and the trumpeter before him gasped at the mere thought of a person despising that piece. “See? The world will always welcome lovers—”

“As time goes by. I know. But Dongyoung is nowhere near a lover to me.” She confesses, looking over to the man that is too busy talking to a customer before she hears Ten’s voice closer to her, moving her hair slightly with the gush of his breath.

“You never know what happens in the future.” Part of it sounds like Ten is playing with destiny, holding it in his hands because he likes fire—and if he burns himself, it’s his fault, but at least he tried.

“You’re insufferable.” She turns around, looking down at his lips when she realizes the closeness between the two. Ten’s hair is parted almost in the middle, soft and tender, like he washed it before going to the jazz bar, and his smile is gleaming brightly. Only the glasses separate their gazes from being electric and she takes her bag in between her fingers, taking out her trumpet before blowing on it in front of him. Ten’s body jerks up at the noise of the trumpet’s sound waves hitting the atmosphere around him and the mere sight of her joyous self, chuckling and laughing in delight had him joining along.

“You don’t even know what I was talking about!” He fights back and she shrugs her shoulders.

“I don’t plan on figuring it out.” The sound of the song changing has Ten nodding his head and soon after, Dongyoung places a bottle of water in front of her before dashing away. “Besides, it’s none of your business, or is it?”

She is playing around, like a cat with a wool ball, and he is getting along with it. He stands up from his spot, fixing his leather jacket and checking his phone is in his pocket to check if the taxi was nearby before nodding his head. “It’s not, but you’ll tell me someday. At your time. We’ll see if Sinatra is right.”

“You didn’t even listen to Sinatra before you started dancing here.”

“And then, you go on and say I haven’t been trying to fit in the place.” She shuts her lips at that, staring at Ten’s beaming…everything. There is nothing about him that isn’t ridiculously charismatic, and it’s angering. “Good night.” With a movement of his hand, a wave of sorts, he starts walking and he feels her gaze going towards him. He knows she still isn’t very fond of him, but he likes the banter. With excitement, he hopes for the next moment they get to talk.

🎺

Some days, Ten questions what would have happened only if and it’s such a damned question, because it softens him. He realizes, most of the time, that he has a nice life. Surely, some moments are better than others, but he has friends that help him, a family that loves him, a job that has grown inside him and he is still a bit ungrateful throughout it all. It sounds terrible, but it is what it is, most people don’t even stop in their path to awake that gratefulness within them. They think people are always going to be there for them, but that’s not the case and Ten knows this.

One would think that Ten, three months into the job, would have left. The days are getting colder, people are having more events that he can perform at and there’s always the couple that left their wedding dance practice for later on the preparations only to worry about it a few days earlier, but he doesn’t leave his job. He arrives late at night, now used to being a night-owl and while at the beginning it ached in his head, he feels like he has learned to see the beauty of the historic place. It shows a piece of a world that he has never lived in, of innocence and elegance. Now, that is interesting.

Moreover, he has tried new styles in his dancing, and that is what is important as an artist. Growing, developing and doing it with grace.

Another thing he likes is watching. He has learned that studying people is really important, too, and that body language gives away a lot about a person. Sometimes, he sees her reflection through the mirror that they have in the new rehearsal room—a gift that gives a space for Ten to perfect his dancing skills, even more than they already are—, and most of the time, she is looking at him, too. At the beginning, when she looked at him all he saw was hate, but now she has gotten used to him.

Which is the reason why he turned on his bed so much the previous night. The jazz group had only done things to compromise to what he wants; they changed their style, spiced up their songs, but Ten had done absolutely nothing to fit in to their standards. To certain extent, his ‘enemy’ was right. Perhaps, he is egotistic enough to think that only his way of portraying art is perfect, but that is not the case. It’s obvious, but it hits him like the most surprising news in the world—

Ten had been quite of a dick.

The wind blows on his dark hair as he walks through the streets. It’s winter and quite obviously, it is freezing—but it is the first winter he spends in the city, and it brings him a sense of purpose. Surely, at the beginning of the year Ten had thought that everything was going to go alright, and then it didn’t, but his life went back to place, a reminder that puzzles such as life can be solved. He rubs his hands together (because “Sicheng, who even uses gloves anymore? I’ll be fine!”), catching the warmth from the central part of his body before pushing the door of the rehearsal room open. He’s greeted by the team, but his eyes go on the person that he thinks about the most—

The trumpeter that hates him, because he dislikes her as well. Not to confuse with anything else, because Ten only likes the bickering, and maybe he’s fucked up in the head like that because he likes to have a continuous conversation with someone where he is always teasing and always winning, but that is as far as they go.

Still very beautiful and talented, she is, but the grumpiness needs to go.

Jihyo touches the edges of Ten’s hair and she hums. “Thought you said you were going blond.”

And Ten was going to go blond, but then he heard the trumpeter tell Dongyoung how much she liked dark hair on guys, and if black looks good on Dongyoung, then it looks heavenly on him. Dancing taught him how to be competitive. “I decided against it.” The man confesses, putting his backpack down before high-fiving Joohyuk and Taeil, the members he was the closest to in the group. “Speaking of decisions, I decided to take a decision…about something important.”

The trumpeter clutches her instrument closer to her chest, gasping in feigned delight. “You’re leaving the group?” Although, he can tell that she was joking—or maybe, part of her wishes that he leaves, but the smile that plasters on her face doesn’t hold mischief. If anything, he thinks she wants to catch his attention and he even gets a wave when he looks her way. At least, that’s a step, they can greet each other without wanting to fight.

“You wish, but no.” Ten adds, noticing that her phone is going off with notifications and soon after, a smile appears on his face. “I’ve decided to dance to one of the original version of yours songs. I figured out that I’ve been a complete asshole by making you change your style while keeping mine intact, so I want you to pick a song and I’ll choreograph it without any changes.”

“You serious?” Someone puzzles with happiness.

“Dude, we’ve been writing a song that I think would work well with a choreography of yours!”

“We really don’t mind!”

He wants to get a reaction from her: an eye-roll, maybe a scoff, perhaps something that gets to him but she doesn’t. After she sees her phone, there is nothing that seems to make her happy. He has seen her grumpy and happy, hungry and sick, but he doesn’t think he has ever seen her that disappointed.

He concentrates on his steps, on the sound of music, of telling a story of a man that wants to get to know the reason behind someone’s hatred. The frowns, the scowls, the over-the-top insulting and the banter. He wants to know the reason behind the fire, and why he needs it. Why he misses it. In all honesty, Ten didn’t know how used he was to having her say some petty remark, or to hear her groan when he says he is well over winning the competition that they have between the two. Everyone seems to notice, and yet no one says anything. Sure, they are her friends—and he is not, she probably told him what was going on earlier and they figured it out, but he wants to know.

Not because of gossip, although he wishes that was the case. It is all because Ten cares about this woman.

He cares, like he cares for his friends. They are not friends, not to get it twisted, but Ten thinks that they are in that point of their lives in which they just know they are going to have to deal with one another. Not exactly friends, not exactly enemies, more of the type of people who would think ‘I would insult you but please, don’t let anyone else do so. You don’t deserve it.’.

She truly doesn’t deserve it.

Which is why the cold bites at his arms, having forgotten his cardigan inside the practicing room as he rushes after her. He thinks he hears Jihyo behind them, but it’s late at night and he knows that she walks back home, so the least he can do is accompany her to keep her safe. Normally, Joohyuk would go with her—heck, even four people would tag along, but she had practically pushed everyone away. How does Ten think that she is not going to do the same to him? Oh, he doesn’t think so, he just will make sure that she doesn’t do such thing.

Her hood is over her head and after hearing his footsteps, she looks to the side to see that Ten is already looking at her. The moon is behind him, full and ready to take on its magic; the stars don’t glisten as much as his smile does and even though it’s a softened version of his smirk whenever he wins a ‘fight’ against her, it definitely suits him. She grips her phone inside her pocket, her steps maintaining their tempo once she speaks.

“What are you even doing here?”

“Walking you home. Isn’t it obvious?” She doesn’t say anything and Ten’s smile falters. He looks ahead, it’s a good ten-minute walk to her home—or so he thinks, he might be getting her house confused with Taeil’s, but that’s far from the case. He has time to get her to warm up, even the slightest bit. “I see you’re a bit sad. It’s…different, I guess. You always seem to be pissed off at everything, I miss that.” Once again, he’s met with utter silence and it reminds him of the first month of working with her. “I care—”

She scoffs at that, rolling her eyes to the point he thinks she is halfway possessed. “Of course you don’t,” She starts, looking at him and kicking fake dust off the pavement before sighing. “Stop trying to pretend that you care or that you enjoy this job or that you’ve changed. It’s nothing…I don’t like when I’m lied to, no one does…so stop it.” The clarity in her voice falls heavily on the night and Ten, strangely, understands her. He knows that he wasn’t the best of people before, that she had cut through his bullshit the moment he met her, but he really is trying to change.

“I’m really trying. I enjoy this job now—”

“Why?” She asks, raising her eyebrows at him. “Are you going to tell me you would not rather be in a bigger stage, with more of a crowd, with better musicians? Because, let me tell you something, we’re…we’ve grown to love music together. I’m definitely not the best trumpeter and that’s quite clear, so you don’t have to shit on my face like that.” Her voice is getting higher and higher as she continues to speak, looking into his eyes for a second and that is all it takes for Ten to figure out what might be bothering her. The words were necessary, too, and he thinks it’s the same kind of gaze he had seen on a lot of his fellow dancer friends. Uncertainty in a tight dress, calling for their attention, coating with kisses in the taste of insecurity. “Louis Armstrong would be embarrassed to have me calling myself a trumpeter.”

Ten wants to be like the men in movies. He wants to come up with the perfect answer, to sound heavily poetic and intellectual, but instead he comes up with the most mundane: “What the fuck?!” He asks, pushing at her shoulder slightly as if to scold her. “I—Okay, firstly: I’m okay with the crowd I have right now. Sure, I’m not settling down for it forever…I have dreams, after all, but I like performing with you guys.” She bites down on her bottom lip, trying to stop herself from complaining to him. “And I’m sure Louis Armstrong would have been very happy to have someone like you be a trumpeter. You’re not the best, but no one is the best at what they do. You’re excellent. I don’t know how your lungs work but…Adele would be jealous of your breathing technique, let me tell you.”

For the first time, Ten takes a smile out of her. Or maybe it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time he has said something nice that made her grin. “Thanks.”

“Whoever makes you doubt your dream is an ass.” He continues, now feeling connected with her because he understands it. He has dealt with hundreds of people telling him that moving to a boisterous city and looking to be an internationally known dancer is too much for his plate. Sure, Ten is talented, but that doesn’t mean that he will eat the world if he wants to. He says that if he could, he would and he will. Confidence is the key to anything. “Keep trying, I’m not telling you to settle down with your talent and not to try anything new, but improve at your pace. Everyone has their pace.”

“What if I’m too slow?”

“You get there eventually. No one is racing you.”

“That’s—I’m sure you don’t follow after that advice.” She points out and she is right. Ten likes competition, he has always done so, and he tries his best to be charismatic and enchanting, to talk to the right people to get to the good spots in life. He loves his talent, but he also loves showing it off. “Even with me. You just love winning; you love competing—”

“We’re not talking about me.” Ten muses before pointing with his index finger at her. “And that’s different. I’m competing with you because I love making you lose, not because I’m actually trying to be an asshole to you.”

She huffs. “I don’t even know what our competition is about.”

“Me getting you annoyed versus you getting me annoyed.” Ten explains, only to shake his head while hissing. “You’re losing because you just don’t have that power. I thought you would, but you’re always in your own little world of hatred towards me. And definitely attraction, don’t think I haven’t caught you looking at me.”

Actually, he gets a laugh out of her and she grabs his arm to shake him slightly. “I haven’t, I really, really haven’t.” She confesses that, only to let go of him and look through her back to grab her keys. Okay, so maybe Ten had gotten the address confused and it was actually five minutes instead of ten. Good job. “Besides, if I actually tried, I would have won more than you, but I didn’t even know what your competition was about. Just that I hated it, of course.”

“Just like anything I do.”

She takes her keys in between her fingers, stopping in her step to stand in front of her door. She nods her head and Ten takes in the look of the small building she lives in. If there are ten apartments in that place, he would be surprised. “Just like anything you do.” She confirms before pointing to her door. “Uh, want to—?”

But a taxi arrives, standing in front of them albeit magically—or maybe not, he was really just standing in a perfect spot for getting a ride—and the man looks at the yellow car, then at the woman and finally, he speaks. “Do I want to…?”

“Nothing.” The words leave her mouth and then, she waves at him. “Send me a text when you get home.”

Ten opens the door to the taxi, smiling at her words. So she does care. “I thought you hated me.”

And her bashfulness is replaced with her usual stubborn expression. “Of course I do! Just that—I would feel really bad if you died, the group loves you.”

“Yeah right.”

“Just go.”

“I will!”

Once inside the car, Ten realizes that is not the case. Maybe, he had warmed her up without really meaning to.

🎺

Everyone has heard the tale. It’s 1971 and the jazz bar is created thanks to the power of music and love. Decades later, the love is still there and the music has only evolved. It’s a story of happiness, a mouthful for those who hate love, a sonata for those who are romantic and for Ten…it’s…it’s just a heavy subject.

He hasn’t really fallen in love and indeed, the story is absolutely adorable to the point he wishes he could have that, but he cannot quite sympathize with the couple. Even more so when they decide to launch a big party for the anniversary of their jazz bar. What he knows is that he will be living through nostalgia, listening to cheesy speeches and definitely, quite surely, having to deal with the fact that he thinks he is just not suited for love. Ten has never been a prince charming—sure, he can be and he has definitely gotten a few dates pretending to be so, but he thinks of love as dull. A hole in his chest. Excitement that dies down. Never has he felt like being with someone for more than three months and hell, maybe that is the reason why people consider him a bad person, why his last date had thrown a coffee at him when he said he just wasn’t feeling the date. He’s honest. He’s blunt. He tries to say it subtly but it always comes out wrongly.

For him, he would adore to fall in love if only it was exciting. He doesn’t want the lit candles in a room and the overly cheesy Instagram captions with endless hearts and nicknames that mean absolutely nothing to the dictionary. He wants it to be captivating. Perhaps, past a lot of what people would consider normal—sure, he would like some cuddles, a nice comforting sexual life and a person to rely on, but he needs to bicker. He wishes to tease, to win, to always have a smile on his face because he knows his words have an effect on someone. Not to be misunderstood, because he wants the other person to fire back, to talk back to him with an equally as big grin on their faces.

So Ten finds twenty excuses not to go to the anniversary party, only to end up going on the last instance.

Damn Dong Sicheng and his nice personality.

The night starts well for him. He arrives a little late, all thanks to himself, and thankfully he doesn’t have to hear the opening speech. He moves to the bar and asks for a glass of champagne, something that Dongyoung gives him in a second and then, off he goes to talk to people. He spends a good thirty minutes just chatting, enjoying the atmosphere of nice-smelling food and the variety of music that is presented, past the classic blues tune. Only that there is always an interruption for him and when his drink is settling on his stomach, he turns around to look for something to eat, only to be met by the sight of the trumpeter he always talks about. She is leaning against the counter, talking to Dongyoung easily. What captivates him is the way she looks, so comfortable, casual and cozy. Be forgotten anything remotely tight, she opted for a pair of jeans and a pretty pink cropped sweater.

His heart definitely shouldn’t have jumped at the sight of her, but it did and it’s fucking stupid. He knows that if he approaches her, she will probably blow her trumpet in front of him again only to make him leave.

Dodging the bodies of people chatting excitedly with one another, he moves through the seas of individuals to get to her and once by her side, he takes the time to press his cold and empty glass of champagne to the skin that shows from her waist. She jumps at the coldness, immediately yelping and turning to look at Ten that looks more than pleased. He is not himself if he is not teasing her.

“Looking pretty.”

“Don’t even try to sugarcoat me, you ass.” She hisses, soon after sharing a glance with the bartender that fleets off from the moment Ten arrives. Part of him thinks he hears her cuss, when she turns to look at him to take the glass of champagne from his hands. His white button down, oversized at its finest, almost falls off his shoulder and she takes one look at his perfectly sculpted face before speaking up. “You look like—You—” She tries to come up with an insult but Ten beams with a smile, making her bite her tongue. “You don’t look as bad as you normally do, I guess.”

He hums. “I never look bad, so that’s a compliment.” He continues before resting his elbows on the counter. “I was thinking that we could actually talk now. As in, talk to each other without wanting to slit our throats open.” His fingers play with the edge of the glass, hearing the sound of a piano in the background in the tune of classical jazz. She quirks an eyebrow, perhaps amused by his antics, and she shrugs her shoulders.

“You kind of have to earn it. Spending time with me is not as easy as you think.” She decides to tag along, play like she shouldn’t with someone like Ten. After all, he always wins and that is factual—maybe, she will end up wrapped in tangled lines of something that she couldn’t get out of. Lust. Hatred. Maybe even friendship.

The man perks up in attention at that. “Ooh, what do I have to do?”

“I didn’t think that far.”

“Intelligent.”

“But you could…uh…”

Her words come to a short halt when she hears someone calling her name, turning around to see the daughter of the owners, carrying her nine-month old baby in her hands before putting it in between the younger woman’s arms. Jessica, the daughter of the owners, decided to be a full-time mother instead of having anything to do with music. Apart from that, she is an event planner—quite different from the family business, but the party that they are in was planned by her and it was gorgeously crafted. “I need to drive somewhere to find more food. Can you take care of Alicia for a few seconds?” The woman asks, not giving her time to even say yes before speaking up once again. “Thank you, sweetie. I’m sure Ten will be able to help you—!”

“Huh?” Ten is also awestruck, watching the woman leave as he feels someone tugging at his index finger. Once he look down, he is met with a big pair of eyes that study his every expression, a smile on the baby’s face as she jumps joyfully on the arms of the trumpeter. “Oh, hello you.” He coos at the baby, leaning down slightly to look at the baby’s eyes and move his finger around her tiny hand. Now, he hasn’t really thought about having a family—but he can’t help but feel his heart become warm at the sight of a baby. Maybe it’s because he’s older, or perhaps he’s going crazy. “You look just like your momma. Are you comfy in that spot, huh? I wish she would cuddle me like that.” Ten jokes around, looking up at her eyes to see her reaction. She doesn’t roll them, instead, she battles back.

“In your dreams.” She says before fixing her posture while carrying the heavy baby. “And don’t get so close to her. You’ll scare her off.”

“I won’t.” Ten complains, straightening his back before he slips his finger away from her grasp. “But I don’t think we should hold the baby near alcohol. Can we go take a seat?”

The trumpeter squints her eyes at that. “Since when are you responsible?”

“I seriously have no idea.” Ten says, wrapping his hand around her arm and dragging her away from the bar. “But do you realize that anyone that is looking at us right now probably thinks that we’re a family of three.”

“May that never happen. Amen.”

But Ten sees something in her—call him stupid, or maybe the music is too softened in that place, to the point he is not thinking straight. The champagne couldn’t have gotten him tipsy with just a few sips, but there he is, watching the woman that apparently hates him cradle a baby in her arms. At first, it was easy—they were playing around and waiting for Jessica to arrive, until the night takes a turn. The baby starts crying, earning glares and glances from people around them as Ten tries to shush her, making silly faces to get her to stop, and the woman jumps up and down slightly to soothe her cries.

The moment changes meanings when Ten scrunches up his nose, taking the baby in between his hands to sniff some more, whining as a protest as he pushes the baby back onto the woman’s hands. “Well, she pooped.” Ten comments and the woman’s face falls in realization, grabbing the baby’s head and pressing it more to her shoulder as if to stop her cries.

“We don’t have diapers here.”

Ten looks around backstage, where they were, before noticing a big bag that he recognized as Jessica’s. “We do, but I’m not changing a diaper.” With his lips puckered up, he reaches for the bag and opens it, taking a diaper in between his hands and giving it to her.

“What?!” She questions, albeit a little bit loud but still drowned by the music. Her eyes widen in surprise as she shakes her head. “I don’t have to do it. That’s a stigma of society, that women have to do everything because we’re—”

“Oh my God, I’m not saying that!” The man continues, raising his hands in surrender. “What I’m saying is that it smells like shit. Diarrhea. Poop. And I’m wearing white, that’s a big no.” Always a man of speaking his truth, he tells this with an astonished expression, taking a look at the crying baby that immediately has his heart aching. What the baby needs is a pair of people that know how to take care of her, not those two.

“But—Ten, I haven’t ever done this.” She says, although she is already putting the baby down by a table, closing her eyes tightly before she grabs his hand with hers. The grip is strong and he doesn’t miss the way he interlocks his fingers with her. “Okay, we’re doing this together.”

He stares at the side of her face, watching the determination that overtakes her features. Ten loves listening to music, but some people say that they can see colors and shapes in sounds. He thinks that she is the personification of a good jazzy song, like a Chet Baker love-story written in a person, and he wouldn’t have known about this artist if only he hadn’t gotten there. Some things are just meant to be. “Yes, we are.”

It’s not the type of bonding moment that anyone expects. The moon and the stars are normally what cast a romantic moment, but they are surrounded by a baby crying, baby powder and a rancid smell. When Ten pulls away, taking the baby wipes in the bag to wipe at his own hands before using hand sanitizer—and doing the same for her—they realize that they have done something together. Without wanting to kill each other, without saying anything more than instructions and encouraging words, without competing. It definitely feels weird and she must feel it, because she can barely look at his eyes when someone else passes by the room they are in.

The old woman that owns the jazz bar takes her granddaughter in between her hands, now fresh, sleepy and with a new diaper. “I was looking for her. Thank you for taking care of her, you two!” She starts and the pair only reply with the mere normality of humbleness. To say that it’s not a big deal, when in fact it was. “You two are a good pair, aren’t you? I saw you from afar and you looked like two young parents in love. It was cute.”

Ten smiles at that, crossing his arms over his chest as the trumpeter stutters. “We—Uh, no, Boss, we’re—Jesus Christ, don’t say such things!”

“Come on, sweetheart. Ten is such a handsome guy.”

“Thank you.”

“And he’s an amazing catch.”

The trumpeter swallows her words, excusing herself to go somewhere else with an embarrassed expression on her face. Ten follows soon after, ready to tease her for her lack of words as the song changes to The Touch of Your Lips by Chet Baker.

The irony of the world is amazing.

🎺

Two things happen to Ten in one day. He lets a mirror fall, having it broken and probably making him have seven years of bad luck—if that even is real, he doesn’t know—, and his grocery bag breaks when he is about to enter his apartment, because maybe it’s the first day of his seven years of the most mundane of bad things happening to him.

The sky is dark, Ten is running late and he’s praying that the rain doesn’t fall just yet because he apparently forgot to bring an umbrella with him. His steps are quickened, the frown on his face almost permanent because there is nothing else that could go wrong right now. Or, of course, something else could happen—maybe, he’d end up falling once he enters the practice room, maybe his pants will rip once he starts dancing. In this world, anything could happen, but he just hopes it doesn’t happen that morning.

With his fingers going through his hair, he pushes the door of the practice room open and thankfully, he’s welcomed by warmth—a contrast to the cold weather outside. Everyone is already there, for Ten is not the epitome of punctual, and he wants to smile but he doesn’t. Some days are just not meant to be matched with smiles, and he learns that the hard way. Sure, Ten tries to look at life like a plethora of opportunities and good memories, of friends and enemies and lovers and family members—all bringing something to him, a lesson to learn, something to forget, something to be angry about or happy, if that’s the case. Today, however, is a day of remaining silent, of accepting that not everything will be of his favor.

There is a brief moment of silence, where everyone continues with their lives as Ten starts to get the necessities out of his backpack. His dancing shoes, a bottle of water and whatever else he can think about. While squatting down on the floor, he feels someone’s foot poking his back, making him turn over his shoulder to see a woman with a trumpet on her hand. Everyone knows who she is. “Why the sad face?”

He puts his bottle of water down, standing up and hearing his knees crack slightly before huffing. He really should have stretched earlier. “Just happened to have the most unfortunate day ever. My grocery bag broke, I broke a mirror, it was about to rain and I forgot my umbrella. You tell me.” Ten speaks lowly, leaving her surprised because he’s most likely a ray of sunshine every single day. Not to say that she likes it, because she doesn’t—he shines too brightly for her liking, but she can’t say she hasn’t gotten used to it.

“Yeah, I saw you looked like a mess.”

“Well, thank you.”

She sighs, not knowing how to put words together when in front of him, and with a push of her shoes to stand in front of him, she takes his cheeks in between her fingers and lifts them slightly to create a fake smile. “You’re usually smiling like an idiot. I want you to do that. You can’t let some groceries and a mirror make your day bad.” Maybe, the world had turned the other way around or something was wrong in the oxygen they were breathing, but he never would have thought that she would be the one to try to make him feel better. “Besides, you’re Ten. You don’t care about some rain or a paper bag or whatever it is broken mirrors do. You know better than that.”

Ten grabs her hand in between his fingers, gripping it tightly before nodding his head with a real smile. Her other hand, however, remains over his left cheek. “Thank you. I would have never expected you to want me to smile.”

“There you go, the cockiness. That’s why we always fight.” She replies, although she chuckles. For a moment, Ten feels like there is no longer hatred in between the two—annoyance, maybe, but who isn’t at least a little bit annoyed about something their friends do or think? It’s the nature of friendship, to accept someone to work together. To be the atlas of someone’s axis. To be two but one at the same time. “You should really get that fixed about your personality. That’s not good for anyone, really.”

“And you think I’m going to listen to what you say?” Teasingly, he continues.

“You never do. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t, ever.” Between her fingers, she pinches Ten’s cheeks and the man whines at the pressure of his skin.

“Hey, too hard!”

“Poor baby. Can’t stand some pinching?”

“Do you want me to pinch your cheeks?”

“I want to see you try, little baby.” She jokes around, a smile on her face when they hear Joohyuk whistling from his spot. The pair turns around, seeing that most eyes were on them and she immediately pulls away, as if shot by electricity.

“Didn’t we get the demo of you two—?”

“Us two what?! Why is everyone so…so crazy about Ten and I? We’re—We’re enemies!” She tells him, trotting over her spot and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking softly. “Let’s just start. I don’t know why you’re so nosy.”

Ten shrugs his shoulders to the questioning glances thrown towards him, because he doesn’t really have an answer. What he knows is that one day, and only one day, she is going to stop running away from him. They’d be able to talk without the fear of other seeing them and her stubbornness will only be a reminder of how they started. He hopes that day comes soon, strangely enough.

🎺

The bird always leaves the nest, and who’s to blame? The bird for growing up, the nest for being small in comparison to the otherwise big bird, or life for not believing in forever’s?

Luckily for him, he is not leaving the jazz bar just yet. He has found an opportunity to perform with a dance group in TV, of course, but that is an ordeal for later. His life seems to be getting back on track when he receives yet another invitation for a big launch, all coming from the old couple that no one would even think are pretty much wealthy, when they really are, and it goes along the lines of a restaurant launch on the second floor, exactly on top of the jazz bar. Because one business is not enough, and buying the entire building is an expected move, and Ten—being part of their team of workers—needs to be there for the big launch. Fashionably late, he would like to be, but he needs to prepare a performance for the night, which he had been working on with the jazz group for as long as he can remember. Taeil’s vocals no longer sound like beauty in his head whenever he hears the song, he’s just tired of the tune with how much they have practiced it.

But Ten is made for this, that’s why he had decided to move away from his family and reach his dream. He loves the clapping, the lights on him, the story behind his dance that only a few can captivate. He got it from the day he was born and he still has that talent, so he uses it to his advantage. His clothing is the conceptualization of elegance, so he feels a thousand times more confident, if that is even possible. By the time the dance ends, a smile is plastered on his face and he feels like he can do it all. Five months, it took him five months to feel like he has a grasp on his dream once again and he wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world.

Talking he does, people are complimenting him left and right, some strangers, some not and by the time he reaches the corner of the restaurant, he finally gets to check out the decorations. Big windows that give an excellent view of the city he had fallen in love with, beige walls, red decorations, and a perfect place to pretend to be a magnate looking for more money to earn. His steps are slow when he sees a figure in front of him, fate or destiny working its wonders on always bringing the trumpeter and the dancer together. This time around, she did try to look a little bit more put together—not that he disliked her in sweats and a sweater, or even in a t-shirt, he thought she was beautiful either way. Black, off-the-shoulder top tucked inside plaid gray pants, high on the waist and highlighted by a black and silver belt. He places his hands over her shoulders, moving her to the side slightly just to tease her.

“I’m not saying you’re not a nice view, but you’re covering the city.” Ten says, although she looks at the big windows in front of them, spacious enough to have everyone in the room looking at the city lights almost perfectly. She wants to argue about this, but Ten is bluntly looking at her with the biggest smile on her face. “You killed it there. Armstrong would have been proud of you if he had gotten to know you, I can tell you that much.”

She rolls her eyes, although she smirks at his words. “Well, that’s good. I was starting to hate the song.” Strangely enough, he can agree with something that she says. However, she contains with her speech. “But I don’t think people noticed, really. Dancers are easy to notice, everyone’s eyes were on you, but no one stops to think that the trumpeter did well.” And there’s that part of her that she doesn’t show, the type that is afraid of flying high in fear of falling. It’s no wonder that she feels that way, for the world is harsh for artists—much more when pursuing a career in music, but that’s just the life that they have to live. Musicians feel more than any other person.

“Shut up.” He complains before turning to look at her, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on inside that little head of yours, but you’re being dumb if you think trumpeters are not noticed. You’re like the bassists but in jazz, everyone wants to get in your pants.”

She snorts at his words, sweet laughter leaving her. “You’re into bassists?” The question is half thought out and maybe, it’s more than just hating each other at this point. It’s not friendship, quite literally, it feels like they are flirting with one another.

Ten shakes his head, although he grins widely. “I like drummers.”

“Drummers?” She asks, her voice rising in pitch. “Didn’t take you as the groupie type.”

“I’m not a groupie.” He points out before he raises an eyebrow. Million times in his life he has tried to fix this about him, the teasing that always pours out from him, but who is he lying to? He loves how well he gets to speak. “Why? Do you want me to be into trumpeters?”

Hissing at his words, she answers. “Let’s just go eat before I blow my trumpet on your face again.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Getting to talk to her is rare. A rare occurrence that he has grown to adore. He loves the sound of her voice, much more when she is annoyed, and now he knows why he tried to get to his nerves ever so often. She talks to him now, bluntly and with her dreams clinging to her skin, because just like him music is what she breathes for. They eat and drink, basically away from the world and the people in the room as they finally have a conversation that consists of what they like. Ten speaks about his favorite dancers in contemporary, she speaks about her favorite trumpeters. Ten talks about that terrible house video that he has of himself where he tries to dance and fails miserably, and she says that she has those, too, in which her trumpet was bigger than her head. Two worlds colliding at the weirdest of times.

Turns out that the owner of the jazz bar, male in this case, was also part of a jazz group back in the day. Ten doesn’t remember the name of the group, even though she repeats it to him time and time again and he hears the sound of what seems to be the softest sounding, most vintage song that he has ever heard in his life. It’s good, the voice of his boss filling the air and Ten feels a smile creeping up his face when he sees the adoration in her eyes. Love the jazz bar, she has done, and maybe he should learn to love it more, for it is not just a job for him anymore, it is a place he can call home.

His movements are quick. He takes her hand in his, bringing her closer to him, chest to chest pressed together to the point his breathing has to match her quickened pace. His other hand trails over the expanse of her arm, resting it on top of his shoulder before bringing his fingers to her waist. Warm. Delicate. She looks like she wants to kill him and yet, she doesn’t pull away.

“Let’s dance. This song is lit.” And it’s not the epitome of romance, Ten knows this. He wants to make her laugh, maybe because he is not the type of man that loves dancing to a jazz classic, but because she makes him want to learn. She hides her face on his shoulder, looking around the room to see that no one is looking at them. The world is preoccupied in other things, and they are living their own little fairytale. A fairytale in which the two villains get closer than they should. “Come on, I’m sure Dongyoung won’t get mad. I know you two are like…having a little something, but we’re just going to dance.”

She cusses, looking up at him before moving her body to the side slightly. Sure, it’s awkward and Ten has definitely danced with people with better moves, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything else, for some reason. “Me and Dongyoung aren’t having anything. We’re just friends. I quite literally have seen him grow up with me, it’s—it’s not anything romantic.”

Not surprisingly, Ten is happy at this statement, because that means that he can dye his hair blonde finally without worrying that she would look at Dongyoung more. “So you’re single, right?”

She nods her head. “Yes.” She confirms. “You?”

“Haven’t had a relationship in a long while.” He confesses before dropping her slightly, watching as she clings to his shoulders tightly and widens her eyes. He cackles at that, shaking his head at the mere sight of her face. “Hey, I’m not going to drop you. Relax.”

“Asshole.” She cusses before sighing deeply. One look into his eyes has her talking more than she should. “I guess I am like classics. A lot of people say that they enjoy it but when it comes to actually listening to something old and vintage, original and misunderstood, people never really care. I have never had someone that wanted to get to know me fully.” The explanation is heard by Ten quite clearly, although whispered in between the two. The song might come to an end soon, but Ten doesn’t want to pull away. “That’s the reason why I don’t think I’ve ever dated properly. I’ve had ‘almost’ dates and ‘almost’ boyfriends, and just half-assed things. That’s not a correct concept, I think.”

“No one deserves someone that just ‘almost’ tries.” Ten confirms, now both of his hands wrapped around her waist. For some reason, his heart is beating and he doesn’t know why he can’t stop looking into her eyes. “And some people like classics.”

She scoffs. “Like who?”

“Like you.”

“Well, I do like myself.” She says in between a chuckle, although by the way she looks at him, she expects for him to say something else.

“I’ve started to like jazz, if that’s a hint.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I have started to like classics.”

“Oh, no, Ten, shut up.” She says, hitting his shoulder before pulling away from him at the end of the song. People are cheering, not for them but for the group, and she is smiling at him, waiting to say something when she hears someone calling her name. Like always, Ten just has that effect.

Dongyoung is by her side, twisting his car keys and touching his forehead with one hand before sighing. “Hey, dude, I’m leaving early because I have a fucking headache. Want the lift?”

And Ten knows she is going to say yes, because she doesn’t have a car and the least she wants is having to deal with her drunken group members, so with a nod and a small: “Okay, I’ll be there in two.” She gets to reply to Dongyoung. She turns to Ten, blinking softly and going over to where he is before chuckling. “You like drummers, remember. Not classics.” But Ten wants to tell her that he could like classics. That, sure, he is not used to monotony…but what’s wrong with a little bit of that? Before he could respond, however, she is gone, leaving him with question marks floating all over his head.

🎺

“I thought we’d find you asking for money on the streets by now. Good job, Tenny.”

Ten squints his eyes at his sister, walking them over to the practice room in which he should have been an hour ago. Turns out that his mother and sister decided to pay him a surprise visit to his new home, and while he had been delighted to see them after such a long time, he also knows that he has plenty of things to do and going around with two tourists is more than a hassle. It’s a headache, really. “Thank you, sis. Always so enchanting.” He says in between a smile before stopping on his steps. Once in front of the door that normally welcomes him into the practice room, he turns to his mother and sister to talk to them. “This group has very nice people, so please, try to be nice to them. Don’t be nosy.”

His mother laughs, joyful as ever. “You act as if you’re not the nosiest of the three.”

“But I’m learning how to change.” He adds, raising his eyebrows for impact before he puts his hands forward. “Come on, pinky-promise me that you’re going to act like adults and not talk about my baby pictures, or my failed attempts at reality shows, or any ex-girlfriend. Please, thank you.”

His sister is the first one to reach forward, taking his pinky in between her fingers before twisting it slightly, earning a hiss from him. “I’m only doing it because you say you’re very happy here.” As always, Ten is grateful of the life he has. His mother does the same, not giving much of an explanation and then, he’s set to enter the practice room and apologize to the best of his abilities just to spare himself any trouble. Yet, when he is about to push the door of the practice room open, he’s welcomed by the sight of someone having already opened it for him. In front of him is a woman with a trumpet on her hands, like always trying to get to his nerves but also making him insanely excited for practice.

“Hi—”

“You’re late.” She says clearly, looking at him for a moment with a frown on her face that tells him that he’s four seconds away from getting screamed at. Nonetheless, he is surprised by the fact that he is hit with a question, instead: “Is everything alright? You’re never this late.” He would like to say he wanted to laugh at her face, that he has another point in his list of winnings because she cares about him, but he’s actually touched. Surprised. Petrified. However way there is to describe it, he doesn’t know, but the softness in her voice is contrasted by the sound of his sister speaking, wrapping her arm around his to bring him closer.

“I—I’m…okay. Yeah, don’t worry.” Ten says with a smile on his face and then, Tern nudges his side with her elbow. “My mom and sister are just in the city and they kept making stops to take pictures, so that’s why I’m late.” His heart is fluttering. Hell, that’s not even the cheesiest explanation for it. When the woman in front of him realizes that his family is around him, she immediately hides behind her cardigan, crossing her arms over her chest and chuckling softly.

“Oh. Hi…nice to meet you.” The shyness behind her voice is a big contrast from how stubborn she was when they first met, but Ten welcomes the pleasing change with happiness. “Ah…I see where Ten gets his good looks.”

Wait.

Freeze frame.

What?

Ten knows he is good-looking. He’s confident, that’s why he doesn’t hesitate on getting a date when he wants one, that’s why he spends those extra few zeroes on his skincare routine, but that doesn’t mean that he expected her to ever say that. Part of him thought that she was as attracted to him as he is to her, but her thick-headed mentality would have never let her say something like that. Tern is visibly smiling, Ten is in utter distress and he thinks he hears his mother cooing, because the trumpeter that he has been thinking about endlessly recently is saying something nice about him. Even he would coo if given the chance, but he’s too busy blushing. Yes, Ten is blushing like a school-girl in those anime series Tern likes to watch.

With a delightful hum, his mother looks at him and then back at the trumpeter, the air is filled with silence until the older woman speaks up. “You think my son is handsome?” She bites her tongue, choking on her saliva and wrapping her hand around her throat softly before nodding her head and sputtering out a small ‘yes’. Ten almost wants to go over to where she is and just wrap her up in a hug, be damned any formalities without caring about the obvious slap on the face he was going to get after. Now the nickname ‘Mr. Superstar’, ‘Mr. Grease-ball’, ‘Pile of shit’ sound like ways she used to get his attention, quite clearly in a wrong manner. “Oh, darling, you don’t know how happy I am to hear that.” His mother starts, getting closer to the trumpeter and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I’ve always wanted my adorable son to be with someone like you. He always picks the bad girls, but you seem so sweet. So in love with my son.”

Ten grits his teeth at that, because she is not in love with him—or so he thinks—and if she was, this was only going to make things awkward. “Mom—”

“Ten has told me wonders about you.” Tern is lying now, Ten can sense it because he hadn’t talked about the trumpeter that he has kind of crushed on for the past few months with his family. The smile on her face is shy, like she didn’t expect this kind of response, and Ten agrees with her silently. His family are the slightest bit embarrassing. “I truly don’t know what you see in him, but…I approve of this. He has always told me he thinks you’re gorgeous and—”

“Tern, shut the fuck up.” Ten says lowly before the trumpeter chuckles awkwardly.

“Really?”

His mom continues Tern’s idea. “Really, darling. I have only dreamed of seeing my Ten with someone like you.”

“Uh, oh—mhm.”

His mother doesn’t give her time to talk, instead taking Tern by the arms to keep her away from the ‘blooming couple’. The way she looks at them is like a matchmaker would, pushing her daughter to her side before sighing. “We’re going to go to that coffee shop in the corner and take a taxi back to the hotel. We’ll grab dinner with you, Ten, alright? Just go to practice with the pretty lady.”

Ten turns around, now worried that his sister and mother are going to get lost. “Are you sure? I can walk you there real quick—”

“No!” His family speak in unison, smiling at the same time and albeit, creepily. The trumpeter laughs because now, finally, she gets to see where Ten gets those peculiarities of his. “Stay here. Bye!” His sister continues before turning around, whispering and talking to her mother about something that the pair already know about. Ten turns to look at her, realizing that behind her, everyone was minding their own business, quite luckily.

“I’m so sorry.” Ten initiates, always one to apologize because there is not a day in his life where he can be normal. Maybe, that’s why she hated him so much at the beginning and now, he doesn’t know where he is standing—she thinks he’s attractive, he thinks she’s attractive, but they don’t do anything about it. “I know you’re not in love with me, but my mom has always hated the people I’ve dated and—”

“I wouldn’t have said no to a date from you, funnily enough.” She comments, shrugging her shoulders and letting the breeze touch her. Her hair moves, her eyelids flutter momentarily and she breaks away her gaze to look at the winter night. Now, Ten is more than surprised about this. But he works with osmosis, he earns some confidence and bursts with it to take it to another part of his body. He knows what to do then.

“Oh, you wouldn’t?” His voice is dripping with a teasing tone, leaning forward and interlocking his hands behind his back before smiling sweetly. His eyes look up and down her features, catching her gaze when she finally decides to look at him.

“Don’t get cocky on me.”

“How do you want me to get, then?”

She breathes out a soft: “Fuck you.”

He nods his head, pushing the door of the practice room open before turning to her. “Let’s bet something, right here, right now.” The sound of money is enticing to her, humming at what he says to keep him talking. “I’ll take you out on a date. If you enjoy it, you owe me twenty. If you hate it, I owe you twenty.”

She scoffs, confident out of her mind because she thinks she just has this. She can always lie, as well. “Prepare your bank account, honey, you’re losing all your money to me.”

“I’ll say the same thing, sweetheart.”

The competition never ends with the two of them.

🎺

Ice. Cold when in ice-cream, cold in people, freezing when you skate over it. Ten has had a variety of dates in his lifetime, like dinner dates and movie dates, staying at home dates that escalate into something else and terrible dates. It’s all in there, but he really does try to do something fun for her. He comes up with something energetic yet simple, inviting her to ice cream after they go ice-skating. The problem is that they are always competing, that is quite clear, much more when she puts on her skating shoes and she grabs Ten’s hand to keep her balance. That is his cue to start his little game.

Maybe, it’s not the most romantic of dates—she looks gorgeous, he took the time to get ready, and he picked her up in a taxi, but this sounds like the date someone in high school would prepare. Nonetheless, Ten thinks it would be a fun idea. His hair swipes over his eyes softly as he keeps his balance, taking both of her hands in his before he separates his legs slightly.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.” Ten initiates, watching as she tumbles slightly before imitating his posture. “We’re going to go in circles, okay? Pretend we’re ice-skaters for a moment.” He’s a daredevil, kind of, filled with certainty and confidence. She is not like that most of the time, but she tries it just for him. She nods her head, a smirk playing on her features.

“If you drop me, I’m going to sue you.”

“My cousin is a lawyer, good luck.” And Ten starts spinning, basically watching the woman with the reddened lips yelp for the slightest moment before settling with laughter. The warmth of her hands is nice, and she is even more surprised when Ten picks up his step before grabbing her by the waist, dragging her with him as he skates back. He may not say it now, but he used to have an ice-skating girlfriend and he must have learned a thing or two, something that seems to surprise her pleasantly. “I brought you here because I thought it’d be fun to race you, but now I want to get to know a little bit more about you.”

She scoffs at that, resting her hands on his shoulders before pushing him away from her. Ten catches his step, for the push wasn’t as hard as one would think, and he skates towards her when she moves a few steps forward. “What do you want to know?” She asks once he catches up with her, watching the glee on her face while in ice. People would look at them and think they are a couple, and maybe wouldn’t even be against it—if anything, he thinks they probably look good now.

“Anything. Whatever comes to your head.” She looks over to the side, grabbing his hand and going faster before turning around to look at him. Ten keeps an eye out just in case she falls with the speed that she is going in.

“I like ice-skating.”

“I can tell that much.” Ten comments before he watches her slip slightly, catching her before she falls just to look at her eyes. He chuckles, because he is delighted to be there with her—not because of the bet, but because he has finally gotten to be in good terms with her. Before, he used to say he wouldn’t even talk to her, but now he doesn’t think he can stop talking about her. “I’m sorry if this date isn’t what you expected.”

She whistles at that. “I feel like I’m in a high school date. You know, prom is only a week away and you’re trying to snatch my heart away, and I’m cooing like a little girl because you’re part of the popular guys and I’m the wannabe nerd.” She describes the situation like a movie and Ten can’t help but let his head fall slightly in laughter, looking up at her soon after.

“Are you calling me childish?” He asks, a little bit worried, but the woman shakes her head before letting go of him once again.

“No, I’m actually really into this.”

He doesn’t know where the line between enemies to friends to going out on a date drew, but he knows that at one point or another, they realized they needed each other. They need each other to make their days more exciting, to banter, to talk and talk and talk to the point they tease each other and annoy one another. What he knows is that she lets go on him when on ice, and it becomes a metaphor: the woman that was once cold to him, warms up to the same man months later when it’s freezing. She tells her embarrassing stories, talks about her favorite food, how she can never get enough of certain TV show and Ten talks about his own stories, too. They are so different that one would think that one of them is summer and the other is winter, but they match, absentmindedly so.

Maybe, Ten has it on him and she has never wanted to accept it. He’s graceful, in the way he moves and how he tells a story through dance, but his words are even more captivating than his talent. He’s charismatic, in the way he holds her hand when they get out of ice-rink, in how he blows on her skin when it becomes cold, in how he apologizes for not having a car. The night is starry and Ten is looking a million times better than he ever did before. Not because he changed something, but because they are finally being themselves and the banter excites her, brings warmth to her body at the mere thought of the man feeling the same way as she does. They are synchronized, moving at the same rhythm, and she is not much of a dancer but she knows how important it is to him, so if moving a few steps at a time will make him happy, she will do so.

A gelato place. Anyone would think that is the worst idea for a date, but with the half-empty ice cream store and Ten laughing at one of her ridiculous childhood stories, she doesn’t mind being there. At some point, she thinks that Ten developed, or maybe the humbleness was hidden somewhere within him. The man shines brightly, feeding her spoonful’s of his own ice cream because he wants her to have some and she does the same. Behind them, there is a TV screen playing something with the tune of Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) in the background, but she can’t care about that when Ten is laughing so joyfully, so pleasantly, like he has no cares in this world.

That’s what differentiates them. Ten doesn’t really care, and she cares too much.

She grabs his hand, patting it softly to whine at him. “Hey, stop laughing at me. I was really embarrassed!” But Ten keeps laughing, because he is not a prince charming by any means—that’s the price she needs to take, but his thin lips are quirked up in one of his infamous cat-smiles and his eyes look like crescent moons. Some people are just meant to work together, even if they don’t want to, and life will push them together to get a laugh out of it, and maybe destiny is laughing at them right now, but she feels like she has the last smile.

“I—I can’t.”

She sighs, shaking her head as she grins softly. “You know…all these months I thought I hated you, but I’m having a really great time.” Be damned her money, she doesn’t want to lie and the words leave her before she could even catch them. Ten looks at her, agreeing with her almost immediately, his laughter dying down with the moment.

“Me too. But you know what I have right now?” He asks, his weight leaning over the rounded table before she continues his conversation.

“Hate towards me?”

“No.” He looks down at her lips, her lipstick now halfway wiped off her face. “The need to kiss you.”

Some romances are weird, like how they kiss on an ice cream store with a Cher song playing in the background, her hands going through his hair and his grabbing her cheeks as he makes the kiss more profound. He is an expert at kissing, smiling in between it and warming the taut skin of his lips with her own touch. His thumb rubs at her cheeks, like he means to give her the entire world and maybe that is not it, some romances aren’t meant to be a Chet Baker song, but Ten wants it to be. His teeth pull at her bottom lip after, chuckling when he hears the noise that leaves her throat before looking into her eyes.

“My twenty dollars, babe.”

She traces his bottom lip with her thumb, leaning forward to press another kiss to his lips before joining in his laughter. “You’re insufferable.”

Atlas let go of the weight of the world, that’s the best way she could describe this situation. She finally let go of the prejudices she had for Ten, and gave in to him.

#ten scenarios #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #nct #wayv #ten nct #ten wayv #writing #nct au #wayv au #ten au #nct fluff #wayv fluff #ten fluff #nct angst #ten angst #wayv angst #jazz bar!ten #enemies to lovers!au #OH LORD THIS IS FINALLY FINISHED #i loved writing this so much and the songs i put here are so good 10/10 #get it haha? #please do tell me what you think this is my end of september fic and i would love to know your opinions #RANT ABOUT IT PLEASE #thank you #hehe