Trust in Me

James Ironwood [RWBY] Affiliated with Isola Radiale var sc_project=12196114; var sc_invisible=1; var sc_security="81b350f4"; var sc_remove_link=1;

[tinheartedly]

florexfugit‌:

@tinheartedly​ // x

“Excuse me,” Dedue asks, tentatively, his hands clasped behind his back as he looks at the other man. “You appear at ease here. Do you know your way around this ward?”

“Do I?” Moderately amused arrived the man’s tone as he turned his gaze upon an unfamiliar source. “Well, I suppose I have done my fair share of reconnaissance in the last couple months.” A smile and shake of the head accompanied the partial jest-- after all, that was what it felt like a great deal of the time; assessing the lay of the land with utilitarian precision, as if they were all prepping for some grand altercation to come.

“If it’s directions you’re in the market for, I am fairly well equipped-- but beyond that...well, I’m afraid my palette for recreational avenues is considerably more limited.” A beat followed wherein the general further assessed the rigid stature of this stranger, an echo of a smile lighting briefly upon his features as he issued a familiar command given the form of a gentle tease. “At ease.”

[tinheartedly]

Can I PLEASE Get A Waffle??

[tinheartedly]

grimmfate‌:

Truly, a man lost by fear stood before her, living proof of how one’s entire self could bend and break in search of good, yet so deeply blinded, his every value becoming twisted in such desperation. He was all she could have wished to see in someone possessing his fleeting importance - a leader causing divisions within his own ranks, inciting all conflict to be focused towards former allies rather than the true threat: herself.

It allowed her success in her approach, an attack and victory so imminent, which would undoubtedly turn to solidified success upon her return to Remnant.

“You have done as much right as I.” She cared little of the morality of his actions, as such concepts were so human in principle, and being “good” more often restrained one’s actions while the willingness to do anything, to destroy was seen as evil. Still, if he insisted to cling to them, such concepts could so easily be twisted to stand against him, imbedding doubt within his mind as few but her could do. “By leaving so many vulnerable to my attacks, you accepted their deaths. Enough blood to drown this world stains your hands… you cannot possibly believe yourself to be good.”

A smile, condescending, nearly maternal still rested upon her lips. “You do remember the chaos that befell Atlas upon my attack, yes? The blood shed because you refused my offer. You invoked death of the boy once Ozpin; the silver eyed girl and her teammates passed because you refused to aid them.” Lies could do easily be crafted, a future painted in her vision. “Yet some of the fallen still find life within this realm, unaware of the pain you caused.”

Albeit not yet truthful, it was a beautiful image, and even if the once general chose not to believe it, doubt would remain.

“They abide your orders of fear. You are no leader, but a tyrant.” The exhaustion across his face was so evident, the pain caused by none but himself. “You are as villainous as others elect to see me.” How such was not evident remained a mystery to even her, yet humans were rather adept at willfully blinding themselves, deceiving themselves with or without her influence.

He thought her an illusion, a smile than only allowed her smile to momentarily grow, yet she offered no confirmation nor denial. Let him believe she was crafted only of his own mind if he wished - inevitably, the truth would be revealed.

Crushing flowers from beneath dark heels of such vibrance only moments before, she stepped forth, nearing the cliff’s descent in time with James. 

“Yet you no longer stand in Remnant, and Atlas is already in my grasp.” For now, return seemed an impossibility, yet this world remained to shape. “Claim the opportunity to cease your ambitions, James, unless you wish to ruin the little which remains of your humanity.”

Again, she stepped forth, still making no move to attack with how limited she knew her resources to be, how useful the general may still prove to be. “You know fighting me will only cause more harm.”

Beyond belief her words might have seemed, once. And yet, for every effort the general had employed to acclimate himself to this bizarre place-- he knew not the extent to which Spirale’s peculiarities affected its inhabitants.

Then...could it be true-- that those he had thus far encountered had had their memories relieved of such a gruesome fate? Could it have been that Atlas itself had already fallen into Salem’s grasp?

“That’s...” Wide-eyed at first to have such a picture painted of his own ineptitude, each confident stroke of her brush nevertheless emboldened his defiance. So it was that, by the time Ironwood had unearthed the words, the uncertainty that had whittled away at his features was traded in for something considerably more remote-- the words themselves almost emptied of emotion alongside the calloused weight of his gaze.

“That is impossible.” Firmly uttered, hearing his own conviction aloud drove some small modicum of warmth back into his features-- although not extending to the tight curl of a metallic fist at his side (how could it, after all).

“You would so sorely like for me to believe that-- but this battle has scarcely begun.” The general ventured further to assert. He had to continue to uphold that which he thought he knew (at least while in her presence) if it was his intent to avoid giving any ground to the haunting shadow that bore down upon him. Even so, his body gave some small way against his will and awareness, his heel ground deep into the soft terrain that bridged the distance to the imposing peak of the cliffs edge braced to his back.

Of course, it was in no way his intent to give any further ground, as he sought to root himself-- a form of stubborn and stalwart opposition to her will, ready and willing-- like Atlas himself-- to hold up the world itself if necessary. Whether that endeavor bequeathed him the title of a ‘hero’ or a ‘villain’ in the process...well, he couldn’t have cared less.

“A ‘leader’, a ‘tyrant’-- what difference do you suppose that makes?” A reckless, unhinged characteristic took to his tone in this moment, likening itself to the dismissals he had shortly ago issued to Oscar outside the doors of the vault itself. “History may call me by any number of names, and certainly not all of them flattering... Just so, I will not abandon this fight.” He had made it clear that he would do whatever it took, up to and including the abandonment of his humanity-- much less his legacy. So, why it was that the needles she sought to drive deep into any small gap in his armor were tailored in this way escaped him..until now.

“Of course...” A hand gravitated upwards to cover Ironwood’s mouth in part, his gaze decoupled from where they had thus far been defiantly adhered to glimmering coals. “I’ve been a fool before now not to see it...” Surely, the conclusion to which he had come was the reason she sought to chip away at him from such a deliberate angle; why she employed a technique which appealed to matters of the heart moreover the head; and, perhaps, why Ozpin had been particularly susceptible to the venom she wielded with practiced grace.

“You are reliant on that humanity...” That was to say: the humanity of others. The same humanity that had cost him his-- Atlas’ security; that had poisoned his playing hand, and compromised both his trust and his guard...

         That humanity that had served Ozpin so well...

                                                                                                   until the Fall...

“Surely, you understand their ways better than any other being-- dead or alive. And, through the exploitation of that knowledge, you have reigned-- thus far unmatched.” The assessment reinforced Ironwood’s prior notions-- the awareness that his open heart had exposed a distinct vulnerability for which Atlas (and, by extension, the world) would pay the price...

“...However, you’re not the only one willing to compromise that humanity on behalf of your vision for the future.”

To this end...they were appallingly aligned.

[tinheartedly]

I am so late on getting to some of these replies and I am so sorry. There’s been so much happening. But I’m getting back into the swing of things again!! Thank you for your patience!

[tinheartedly]

The beaches back in Atlas were nowhere near the quality of those sequestered to the boundaries of the Golden Ward. Comparatively harsh, icy, and unforgiving-- the contrast when held against fine and rolling sands that spilt out into a distant sea made for a far cry from home. That said, the General hadn’t exactly arrived here with the intention to reminisce; although the likelihood of being subject to those memories escalated by the moment, given shape and form by way of a familiar figure likewise perusing the boardwalk.

“Robyn Hill...I had little doubt that our paths would intersect at some point in time.” Sparing the woman a glance alongside his address, it was shortly that Ironwood turned his gaze back out to the sea. His posture remained surprisingly at ease where he stood, with an arm bearing his weight against the low fence that partitioned the wooden board pathway from golden sands.

Somehow, in spite of all that had happened, the alarms that had rallied him against all other familiar faces were quieted at present. Perhaps this was on account of Clover’s preparatory actions taken to forewarn the General of her presence-- after all, she was his roommate. Had he neglected to mention as much, this meeting might have easily taken on an infinitely more combative air.

“I trust your adjustments to this place have not been...severe.” --provided a few familiar faces, and a stalwart nature-- the Robyn Hill he knew of would no doubt adapt quickly, and with energy to spare for whatever turn this conversation would inevitably take. Just so, there was a part of him which was genuinely pleased to see her, despite heeding the delicacy of their homestead camaraderie; a conditional accord which now felt so very distant...

@mantledhero​

[tinheartedly]

@petalbursting​:

             ❛   Yeah, well —- fear won’t, either !    ❜

       IT’S   an immediate retort, blurted out with all the exasperation she’s been trying to keep under at least some sort of lid. Not that she was doing an excellent job of it… It feels like this whole month has just been trying her emotions, one after the other — and she honestly doesn’t know whether Remnant or Spirale is to blame. All she knows is that seeing him standing there, having the audacity to say he understands any of what she’s feeling, is enough to make her grip tighten more than she thought physically possible.

       Her knuckles are growing pale. 

       Her cheeks, however, only grow darker — blistered from the cold, yes, but also from her own anger… And perhaps a little hint of shame. She’d made a mistake; not telling him, even if it might not have made a difference in the long run, had been a mistake. Maybe her hunch was right, maybe everything going on in Mantle was more than enough cause to keep some information to themselves… But she could have told him sooner. She could have given Oscar’s reservations more thought. There’s… a lot of things she could’ve done. But at least she was aware of that; how can he stand there and try to justify it, turn the implications right back around to her ?  How can he grit his teeth with anything but regret ? 

       Perhaps she’s only proving his point by lashing out like this — so Ruby tries again. Adults have a funny way of not listening when you raise your voice. In subduing her volume, the severity in her tone only jumps forth more starkly; she can’t be pressed to care.   ❛   You can say whatever you want, but we all felt it. It was all over your face the second you showed us that glass piece… You were scared. You were  TERRIFIED  . And you should be. … But one guy making all the decisions, thinking he can do what nobody else can… Hasn’t really worked out in the past, right ?   ❜

      Her knuckles are white.

That accusation-- the repetition of it all felt like a knife slipped delicately in between his ribs. Not so long ago Oscar had made the same observation, and likewise reinforced the tenacity of it. They were all afraid-- they all should be. The bare memory of it splintered the figurative steel in his chest; and yet, in spite of the ache, the General swiftly severed any connection between that pain and his expression. Where a thousand grimm had never managed to chase the emotion he had largely worn on his sleeve into hiding-- a couple children succeeded--

                                                                                                    --if only for a moment.

Abruptly, and perhaps against his better judgement, Ironwood’s expression shifted, the transition from glacial indifference into something distinctly softer managing to account for the misfortune that came with being dealt such a hand; and the consequent anguish derived from the knowledge that a reckoning would soon be on their doorstep.

“Ozpin...” Speaking the name aloud, almost as a reflection, he had never felt so utterly worn down. The man himself was an open wound enshrined in the General’s chest-- an agony to be deferred to another day... Rather, Ironwood regathered himself, blue eyes again poised upon the young Huntress as he spoke through a lens he had not had cause to employ for some time-- as a Huntsman, and a Headmaster.

“He will come to answer for what he has done, in time. All we can do now is live with the consequences of those actions-- and do the best that we can, not for ourselves, but on behalf of the world at large.” While his tone did not reach so far as to attribute blame, there remained a recognition that their reality was a derivative of so many of his lifetimes spent in attempts to bring an end to her reign-- so many failures. He couldn’t allow this to amount to another...

“Ozpin once expressed the hope that you would never have the responsibility of winning this war. To this end, I relieve you of this mantle.” Tone emboldened with every syllable, his features hardened in turn, until the General’s final assertion arrived without the slightest crevice reserved for contradiction:

“I will ensure our future, and act without hesitation, no matter the cost. For all your many sacrifices, I fear that you are inadequately prepared to do the same.”

[kari-shma]

We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin.

André Berthiaume (via kari-shma)

[tinheartedly]

kingfishersluck‌:

It didn’t take long for him to know he had made the correct choice in what information he disseminated to the general. Swallowing he stood to the side, maintaining his stance while he watched General James Ironwood pale in front of him. Pacing turning in on itself as he stopped, staring at the grass as though it would provide any answers for him. 

Truly, his reason for being here must be to support James. And in doing so, he should be both measured in his response and unselfish in his own motives for giving information. Not that he wished to speak of it, because he did not know how to feel, how to think about it. It was unimportant, and learning it did not impact him here beyond a new scar. It was fine. It would be fine. And his mission right now was directly in front of him.

Giving the general time to process, he would bide his time, standing in wait while the general seemed to process this new information.

…

Unmoving for a while, he finally took a step forward. Steps loud, announcing that he had moved. A hand grasped James’ shoulder, firmly but not too tightly. Teal eyes were determined, and a serious look fell across his features.

“James. Whatever it is, we can deal with it together. You have me. We’ll get our weapons back, we’ll get our abilities back. And we’ll deal with this. Together.” His hand squeezed at the last part, a small smile falling across his features before he took a step back.

“Maybe that was a bit unprofessional, but I think since nobody’s watching we can spare the formalities for a minute. You don’t need to confide everything to me. Just tell me what you need me to do for you, James. Semblance or no. Kingfisher or no. I am the leader of your Ace Operatives.”

Any concept of the passage of time escaped James in that moment, as the rest of the world passed on from stark clarity into something entirely more ambiguous. For an instant, he felt adrift in uncertainty. Surely he was not meant to feel this way; as though he were grasping at straws to maintain the same control that he commanded back in Atlas. However, their situation had shifted so rapidly-- weighing any preparations James had accounted for down like an anchor at sea. In short time, new measures would require fashioning-- a detail to which Clover had attuned himself most acutely.

They had no time to waste...

James could not say for how long he had lingered in the throes of his own thoughts before Clover brought him back again to the present-- only that the deliberate and audible footfalls effectively foreshadowed the grip that bridged his re-connection. In returning once more with the present, James lowered the hand from his features, all the better to contemplate the sentiments put forth by the other in all sincerity.

Evaluating him now, for the first time since his arrival James felt assured of something. Every turn thus far had only harbored more cause for concern-- as even the news accompanying Clover had striven to uproot whatever meager foundations the General had since established. However...Clover was one constant upon which he was able to depend-- a steadfast and faithful pillar-- and no doubt, he always would be.

Just so-- James found himself grateful for the Ace-Op’s objectivity and understanding of his role in the bigger picture. There was so much still that Clover deserved to know-- as the esteemed leader of James’ special forces, but also as a most dearly-regarded friend.

So it was in this moment that James’ free hand gravitated to the seat of the other’s elbow, grasping his arm in a brief, but distinctly earnest embrace, the words to follow a gentle profession of fondness.

“Thank you.... Your prevailing trust means more to me than you could ever know.”

                                                                    (I need you at my side; now more than ever.)

While the remark was spared a reticent degree of tenderness, it was shortly that this expression of warmth was once again veiled; as that minute chink in the General’s armor was repaired, and James’ expression fortified, becoming distinctly pragmatic, even utilitarian in nature.

“The game has changed.” Resolute, these words sounded-- a sharp contrast to the sentimental assertion uttered prior. Additionally, too, did a sour note accompany the phrase, for it did not entirely encompass the gravity of the future they were facing. After all, while the imminent eradication of all life on Remnant may have amounted to little more than a “game” to her, for all those remaining...it was a battle against the clock.

“To aid our acclimation to this place, we need information-- as much as we are able to gather. Additionally, I expect that allies will prove to be an imperative asset moving forward.” James reflected, hands clasped behind his back solidifying the rigid composure held by Atlas’ General. “However, our primary objective is to work as quickly as possible to regain that which we have lost-- and to draft a plan of action in the event of our return.

“However, what I need from you presently is to rest, and to regain your strength. After all, I expect we will not be provided much of it come the near future...”

[tinheartedly]

❝ You talk as if you had no heart, no pity in you. ❞

Given the huntress’ complex history, Ironwood had not accounted for her understanding. And, while the necessity of his movements was reinforced by the day, he could likewise comprehend the reasons for which his opposition had been utterly stalwart in their refusal to fall in line. Even so, he would not concede, nor permit his path to be barred. Their best chance at survival had always entailed moving forward– regardless of the cost…

That said, perhaps there was once some aspect of this phrase that would have plucked at discordant heartstrings, and empowered their pliability; but as things were, it drew little more than a retort which was eerily leveled in nature, emotion curtailed to fit neatly within the scope of an exceedingly more narrow box.

“No amount of pity will bring us any closer to our goal. We must endeavor to keep our priorities in line… It is our duty.”

–to take action; and to do the best they could.

[tinheartedly]

❝ Is that very vain of me? I think it is rather vain. ❞

‘If the shoe fits’ was the phrase that came to mind; and one that Ironwood reiterated in so many words:

“The reality that you’ve made yourself aware of that fact speaks volumes to your confidence.” The General offered, a trace amount of amusement coloring his tone. In his years he had come to harbor some small fondness for those who spoke directly, and with some prescribed intent, lending individuals such as Robyn Hill (or even the likes of a one Roman Torchwick) some limited degree of affection. Granted, that leniency had its limits– although Aavaros had yet to brush the General’s boundaries on that front. Therefore, his prior amicability persisted as Ironwood supplemented further.

“These days I find that I prefer to keep the company of those who favor candid speech over some more dubious alternative.”

[ask-meme-addicts]

"The Picture of Dorian Gray" sentence starters

❝ There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about. ❞

❝ The ugly and the stupid have the best of it in this world. ❞

❝ We shall all suffer for what the gods have given us, suffer terribly. ❞

❝ I have grown to love secrecy. ❞

❝ Your cynicism is simply a pose. ❞

❝ You know we poor artists have to show ourselves in society from time to time, just to remind the public that we are not savages. ❞

❝ Conscience and cowardice are really the same things. ❞

❝ I choose my friends for their good looks, my acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies for their good intellects. ❞

❝ A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies. ❞

❝ Is that very vain of me? I think it is rather vain. ❞

❝ None of us can stand other people having the same faults as ourselves. ❞

❝ I like persons better than principles, and I like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world. ❞

❝ There is nothing that art cannot express. ❞

❝ The harmony of soul and body—how much that is! We in our madness have separated the two, and have invented a realism that is vulgar, an ideality that is void. ❞

❝ My heart shall never be put under their microscope. ❞

❝ It is only the intellectually lost who ever argue. ❞

❝ I feel that I have given away my whole soul to someone who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summer’s day.” ❞

❝ In the wild struggle for existence, we want to have something that endures, and so we fill our minds with rubbish and facts, in the silly hope of keeping our place. ❞

❝ Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love: it is the faithless who know love’s tragedies. ❞

❝ People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. ❞

❝ Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. ❞

❝ Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind and poisons us. ❞

❝ The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. ❞

❝ Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul. ❞

❝ You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know. ❞

❝ Wherever you go, you charm the world. Will it always be so? ❞

❝ Time is jealous of you, and wars against your lilies and your roses. ❞

❝ Our limbs fail, our senses rot. We degenerate into hideous puppets, haunted by the memory of the passions of which we were too much afraid, and the exquisite temptations that we had not the courage to yield to. ❞

❝ You like your art better than your friends. ❞

❝ I am jealous of everything whose beauty does not die. ❞

❝ Young people, nowadays, imagine that money is everything. ❞

❝ Credit is the capital of a younger son, and one lives charmingly upon it. ❞

❝ Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic. ❞

❝ The way of paradoxes is the way of truth. ❞

❝ I can sympathize with everything except suffering. ❞

❝ Humanity takes itself too seriously. It is the world’s original sin. If the caveman had known how to laugh, history would have been different. ❞

❝ Nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are one’s mistakes. ❞

❝ You are quite delightful and dreadfully demoralizing. ❞

❝ I am always late on principle, the principle being that punctuality is the thief of time. ❞

❝ I adore it, but I am afraid of it. It makes me too romantic. ❞

❝ Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing. ❞

❝ Passion is the privilege of people who have nothing to do. ❞

❝ If I ever did a crime, I would come and confess it to you. You would understand me. ❞

❝ When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one’s self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance. ❞

❝ There is always something infinitely mean about other people’s tragedies. ❞

❝ I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir their dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain. ❞

❝ People are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves. It is what I call the depth of generosity. ❞

❝ The only artists I have ever known who are personally delightful are bad artists. ❞

❝ It often happens that when we think we were experimenting on others we are really experimenting on ourselves. ❞

❝ Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them. ❞

❝ To be in love is to surpass one’s self. ❞

❝ Poor? What does that matter? When poverty creeps in at the door, love flies in through the window. ❞

❝ Our proverbs want rewriting. They were made in winter, and it is summer now; springtime for me, I think, a very dance of blossoms in blue skies. ❞

❝ I shudder at the thought of being free. ❞

❝ I know you would never harm anyone I love, would you? ❞

❝ Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives. ❞

❝ Of course, it is sudden—all really delightful things are. ❞

❝ The reason we all like to think so well of others is that we are all afraid for ourselves. The basis of optimism is sheer terror. ❞

❝ Unselfish people are colourless. They lack individuality. ❞

❝ You are much better than you pretend to be. ❞

❝ I cannot understand how anyone can wish to shame the thing he loves. ❞

❝ When we are happy, we are always good, but when we are good, we are not always happy. ❞

❝ The real tragedy of the poor is that they can afford nothing but self-denial. Beautiful sins, like beautiful things, are the privilege of the rich. ❞

❝ Being adored is a nuisance. ❞

❝ You are dreadful! I don’t know why I like you so much. ❞

❝ You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you have never had the courage to commit. ❞

❝ Love is a more wonderful thing than art. ❞

❝ There are only two kinds of people who are really fascinating—people who know absolutely everything, and people who know absolutely nothing. ❞

❝ The secret of remaining young is never to have an emotion that is unbecoming. ❞

❝ I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought them real. ❞

❝ You taught me what reality really is. ❞

❝ You used to stir my imagination. Now you don’t even stir my curiosity. ❞

❝ I have grown sick of shadows. ❞

❝ You don’t know what you were to me, once. ❞

❝ You have spoiled the romance of my life. ❞

❝ Without your art, you are nothing. ❞

❝ There is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love. ❞

❝ There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. ❞

❝ I can’t bear the idea of my soul being hideous. ❞

❝ You cut life to pieces with your epigrams. ❞

❝ Things like that make a man fashionable in Paris. But in London people are so prejudiced. ❞

❝ One should never make one’s début with a scandal. One should reserve that to give an interest to one’s old age. ❞

❝ How extraordinarily dramatic life is! ❞

❝ I don’t think I am heartless. Do you? ❞

❝ The moment she touched actual life, she marred it, and it marred her. ❞

❝ Life has everything in store for you, ❞

❝ We live in an age that reads too much to be wise, and that thinks too much to be beautiful. ❞

❝ If one doesn’t talk about a thing, it has never happened. It is simply expression that gives reality to things. ❞

❝ You must not tell me about things. What is done is done. What is past is past. ❞

❝ I don’t want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them. ❞

❝ You talk as if you had no heart, no pity in you. ❞

❝ if I told you, you might like me less than you do, and you would certainly laugh at me. I could not bear your doing either of those two things. ❞

❝ Your friendship is dearer to me than any fame or reputation. ❞

❝ You became to me the visible incarnation of that unseen ideal whose memory haunts us artists like an exquisite dream. ❞

❝ Whatever I have done that is good, I owe to you. ❞

❝ There is something fatal about a portrait. It has a life of its own. ❞

❝ Perhaps one should never put one’s worship into words. ❞

❝ There seems to be something tragic in a friendship so colored by romance. ❞

❝ It has a corruption of its own, worse than the corruption of death itself—something that would breed horrors and yet would never die. ❞

❝ The past can always be annihilated. ❞

❝ How exquisite life had once been! How gorgeous in its pomp and decoration! Even to read of the luxury of the dead was wonderful. ❞

❝ Is insincerity such a terrible thing? I think not. It is merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities. ❞

❝ I am tired of myself tonight. I should like to be somebody else. ❞

❝ I love scandals about other people, but scandals about myself don’t interest me. They have not got the charm of novelty. ❞

❝ You don’t want people to talk of you as something vile and degraded. ❞

❝ You must not say things like that. They are horrible, and they don’t mean anything. ❞

❝ You have had more to do with my life than you think. ❞

❝ Each of us has heaven and hell in him. ❞

❝ Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms. ❞

❝ Keep your horrible secrets to yourself. They don’t interest me any more. ❞

❝ What is it to me what devil’s work you are up to? ❞

❝ I wish you had a thousandth part of the pity for me that I have for you. ❞

❝ The husbands of very beautiful women belong to the criminal classes. ❞

❝ I am not at all surprised that the world says that you are extremely wicked. ❞

❝ It is perfectly monstrous, the way people go about nowadays saying things against one behind one’s back that are absolutely and entirely true. ❞

❝ Nowadays all the married men live like bachelors, and all the bachelors like married men. ❞

❝ Everybody I know says you are very wicked. ❞

❝ I like men who have a future and women who have a past. ❞

❝ Moderation is a fatal thing. Enough is as bad as a meal. More than enough is as good as a feast. ❞

❝ He atones for being occasionally somewhat overdressed by being always absolutely overeducated. He is a very modern type. ❞

❝ What do you want? Money? Here it is. Don’t ever talk to me again. ❞

❝ Each man lives his own life and pays his own price for living it. ❞

❝ The man who could call a spade a spade should be compelled to use one. It is the only thing he is fit for. ❞

❝ I think that it is better to be beautiful than to be good. But on the other hand, no one is more ready than I am to acknowledge that it is better to be good than to be ugly. ❞

❝ To be popular one must be a mediocrity. ❞

❝ We can have in life but one great experience at best, and the secret of life is to reproduce that experience as often as possible. ❞

❝ I wish I could love, but I seem to have lost the passion and forgotten the desire. ❞

❝ My own personality has become a burden to me. ❞

❝ Death is the only thing that ever terrifies me. ❞

❝ The world has always worshipped you. It always will worship you. ❞

❝ Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets. ❞

❝ The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame. That is all. ❞

❝ The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history. ❞

[forsakenpumpkin]

Cucumber Quest Sentence Starters #9

INTERLUDE 3 (+Q&A)

“You can’t even do evil right!”

“You can’t just, like, barge into a hallway or whatever…”

“[name], it’s almost 3 in the morning. Why are you awake?”

“And I think you’ve had enough.”

“How many questions are you going to ask?”

“I never expected you to be interested in something like this.”

“I’m going to pretend you’re talking to yourself.”

“You’re gorgeous and smart and funny… he’d be nuts to say no!”

“I’m your friend, [name]! That’s what friends are for!”

“I’m not proud of the way our last conversation ended. I came to apologize.”

“…[name]. Explain something to me.”

“Why are you so eager to call me a friend?”

“[name], the only thing I can be sure of… is that every time we meet, you do something kind for me.”

“I despise weakness, [name]. More than anything.”

“I never said my motives were noble.”

“I do want you to know that when I called you my friend, I meant it.”

“You listened to me when I felt alone. You even gave me help when I needed it. If there were any chance that I could do the same for you, I wouldn’t be afraid to.”

“And you are still terrible at lying.”

“I’ve grown sentimental, [name]…”

“If this is an attempt to lighten my mood, it is ill-timed.”

“You should know what fear does. The more you worry, the worse your problems start to seem.”

“If you ever feel alone… I want you to remember that you’re not anymore.”

“I think it’s time you went back to bed.”

“You can’t possibly care where I’ve been.”

“Patience is our only option, [name].”

“We got off on the wrong foot. I hope you’ll find it in your precious little heart to forgive me.”

“You really don’t recognize me at all, do you?”

“Shaving was the worst mistake of my life.”

“Please, forget I said anything.”

“Does this bus have a heater or something? It’s freezing.”

“I just thought it was…time for a change.”

“You’ve taken this too far.”

“Your favorite character’s a villain?”

“I don’t want to imagine the crimes they committed while I wasn’t here to dress them.”

“I always set the dress code.”

“What’s your name, chump?”

“You can just answer the question, y'know.”

“I’m already a masterpiece, so I’ll be your favorite.”

“Your favorite character is the heroine?”

“What would be the point?”

“He’s too cool and capable!! Can anything overpower him?!”

“What is a ‘fanfiction’?”

[tinheartedly]

Can I PLEASE Get A Waffle??

[tinheartedly]

grimmfate‌:

Savior’s respite had turned a place of familiarity, an escape from stifled streets crowded with humanity, blinded by their shallow views with their meaningless words bouncing from building to building. Flowers bloomed and withered in her approach - an omen arriving, silently declaring the fate that would inevitably befall the land as she regained all which had been torn from her. She held patience - her abilities would return as meant to be, and this world would 

And, it seemed a most similar location for those of the world she knew, having located Ozpin near the cliff but days ago, and today, the familiar stature of a man she knew well to hold fear of her, of any wrong action stood cowering.

It was nearly pitiful, yet naught else could be expected given his past cowardice.

The fear across his face, interlaced into his every word still lingered despite his tone gaining some false cover - and whilst such pitiable attempts may have fooled someone of similar nature, she had far outgrown believing the lies of one’s expression.

“James.” 

Her approach was silent save for her cape moving by the breeze, a smile that could perhaps be mistaken as soft forming across her lips, thinly veiled cruelty.

A spectre. Truly, it was hardly surprising she filled his visions. 

“I stand as real as you.” It appeared he was defenseless - no gun within his holster as a weak attempt of protection, and whilst she possessed little means to physically harm him, words could dig in so much more deeply, eternally wounding his mind where scars may fade. 

( Still, perhaps, she could see how flames melted steel. )

“You could not have believed entirely evading the pain you brought possible, could you?” She still moved nearer, gaze unwavering from eyes painted with fear, however much he may wish to keep such hidden. “None may stand with you after the harm you invoked upon the kingdom you were indebted to protect, and it is hardly fair for you to endure without apt consequence.” If the General was here, Ozpin was here, undoubtedly, there stood others. 

“Of course, you owe nothing to this world. You may finally seek a rest you never had the choice to grasp, if you wish.” Her voice softened, serpentine smile spreading. Surely, such stood a temptation to him.

His name, given shape and form by way of pallid lips, made his blood run cold. It was one thing to strictly see her-- to face down the shadow that had come to occupy every dark corner to which his eye was attuned. But to hear it once again, explicit and near-- his heart stuttered in response in spite of himself. Fruitlessly, he sought to shirk that veil of fear that thinly coated him, ever-present in spite of a hardened exterior.

Fear, it turned out, was as irrevocable as she.

The words Salem put forth swept through him, tugging at heartstrings he’d endeavored deeply to sever in service of the greater good. Yet, even in the event he could not completely detach himself, the General was lent strength enough to turn a blind eye when the situation demanded it-- granted, as Salem had pointed out, he rather doubted the likelihood that others would characterize it as such.

“Whatever consequences are wrought of my actions-- I have done what is right.” At his insistence the words were parsed accompanying conviction tinged with aggression. After all, the necessity of his methods had long-since been proven. How much time had Ozpin cost them by adhering to inaction? What was it worth to him now that the world was crumbling beneath their feet? Since the Fall of Beacon James had worked tirelessly to unwind the clock-- to buy them security and strength at the cost of complacency. Of course, he had no doubts that there was comfort to be had in indulging in the illusion of an era of peace (a false reality to which he had never himself ascribed); but that time was running out.

The promise of solidarity in this fight fell on deaf ears, as James clung stubbornly to what oaths he had been given. This was merely a seed that Salem was seeking to plant-- one that would no doubt propagate and facilitate their own destruction. However, James had learned from Beacon, from Haven, and ensured that his team was carefully vetted. He trusted them, completely, and without exception. Of course, there was no test of loyalty more strenuous than the events presently unfolding...but even in spite of this, he was assured of their allegiance.

                                                                                          ...Wasn’t he?

“There are individuals who stand beside me still, willfully subject to my orders-- those remaining need only abide them.” Accompanying the rough delivery, so too did Ironwood’s expression evolve to account for his exasperation; a shadow of prolonged fatigue adding further definition to the hard creases on his features that anger had wrought. So to follow did he act on this frustration, the words spit forth with an unseemly fire wrought of disdain as much as desperation.

“I will not stand here and be lectured by some apparition.” The General’s ire carried his steps, heavy through the thick coating of cliff-bound blooms. He moved some few paces to face Salem squarely, the stiff breeze that swept up the hard edge of the cliff breaking over his back as James spoke again, every ounce of energy directed towards siphoning away the abject weariness from his tone.

“I will not rest...until Remnant is freed from you.”

[tinheartedly]

petaltrail‌:

              ❛   Only if you give me a reason.   ❜

         PART   of her hopes he does.

         Gloved fingers remain taut all the same, steel mere inches away from her fingertips. He seems completely calm and collected, not that it’s surprising. He’d been pretty collected the last time she’d seen him, too; of course, the last thing she saw of him was his back. She wonders how calm he looked with Oscar, too, right up until he… 

         Her jaw tenses, clenching and releasing with whatever patience she could muster. Silver eyes are gleaming in the fluorescent decorative lighting — not with their unique ability, but with absolute ire. Try as she might, she can’t shake it: she’s positively furious. And just as when she’d spoken to Salem, her every word is low and emphatic; sending out coated barbs, seeing if any of them stick. How clear can she make it without saying it directly ?  Would he betray any emotion at all ?  Would it be righteousness, guilt… Or just more of the same ?

              ❛   That’d be pretty  LOW  of me, wouldn’t it ?  Attacking you when you’re basically unarmed, at a disadvantage. Especially when, for all I know, you just wanna talk… I mean, that’d just be  SCUMMY  . Right, General ?   ❜

The low words slung at the General appealed to some part of him which was left exposed-- an Achilles heel of sorts that had yet to be hardened in accordance with the rest of him. The picture Ruby’s words painted was one much on his mind as of late, leaving his conscious mind with little to wrestle with in order to conjure it once again before his eyes.

In this place, where the immediacy of war was lifted, Ironwood was left with time to spare devoid of those decisions that were the most difficult to make-- time to reflect, and to question. Perhaps an individual will less conviction would have capitalized on this opportunity to bathe in doubt or regret; to talk themselves around to a point of betraying the very values that had carried them this far. However, Ironwood’s axiom of sacrifice, even in his most disquieted moments, remained obdurate.

Rather than expose himself to the figurative bite of thorns by which Ruby employed to constrict him, the General’s demeanor threatened to become unto ice and steel, effectively sealing out whatever means by which the young woman intended to reach him in this moment. However, for this small sliver in time he clung-- perhaps fruitlessly-- to what elements of his humanity remained. For all the good it would do...no reading of his actions would alter their consequence--

                                                                        --nor the perverse necessity of it all...

“You’re angry... I understand that.”

“But your anger alone is not enough to stop Salem.”

[tinheartedly]

[tinheartedly]

realvived‌:

  Go back…!

  The tone shift catches her by surprise, the little dream that maybe he would not bring up the topic slips from her hands and flies off into the far distance. It was a naive thought, really; of course he would question her about the incident because she’s one of his trusted people, someone Ironwood allowed to hear information so many others wouldn’t hear until it was no longer deemed confidential.

  She’s betrayed him. That simple action of fleeing with Team RWBY and everyone else signified her cut connection. Penny’s eyes are affixed to the space past Ironwood’s shoulder, taking in every detail of the concrete as she opens her mouth and struggles to find her words to explain herself.

  The hiccups build in her throat like no other time, threatening to pour out the moment she tries to speak any lie on the matter. She’s scared, horribly so. Turning heel and running would be an option if she could boost out of here like at home, but her thrusters haven’t responded since she arrived and Penny is almost certain he can outrun her at this rate.

  “ I… C - Cinder Fall found Fria’s location. Winter and I took to battling her and we failed to capture her, ” she begins, tone shaky. “ Fria… Fria defended herself before Winter continued to fight Cinder Fall. I… I…”

  Penny covers her face, unable to take the idea of seeing how Ironwood reacts to her next words.

  “ I held Fria in her last moments! I… S - She gave me the Winter Maiden’s power and I ran…! ”

  ( Omitting the end wouldn’t have set anything off, but what’s the point in a half-truth? She wouldn’t be able to take it. Putting everything on the table … ending all of this fast is all she can do, right? )

A hand set upon his knee, Ironwood remained intent upon Penny as she cycled through her thoughts, processing whatever preceded the requested report. Blue eyes allowed her no recourse, measuring every passing moment with a carefully tempered expression. Yet, where rime had once crept slowly over his heart in anticipation of yet more bad news to be had-- it was soon set in reverse as Penny outlined the encounter’s eventual resolution.

Ever so slowly, the General shifted his weight to rise again to his full height, his remaining free hand crossing his body to in part support his sling-bound limb. A weight he hadn’t known he was carrying strapped tight to his chest began to release; and so to follow bloomed unfettered relief upon his features.

“Thank heavens...” He permit softly at first, as a long exhale accompanying shuttered eyes. At least one aspect of his instruction had persisted, in spite of the odds. True though it was that it was not Winter whom has secured the Maiden’s power-- this outcome was, indeed, a blessing in disguise.

--To think that this misstep had permit them a Maiden that wouldn’t be susceptible to illness or old age-- it was a measure that granted them some say in how and (more importantly) when this power would be passed on..! Although this was indeed far from the outcome he had prepared for, it arrived as the ideal alternative.

Or so he thought...

“Penny,” The General again set his gaze upon Mantle’s Protector, a hand releasing his arm so as to pair his words to a genial gesture. “I am...so sorry. That must have been very frightening for you. This...was always what Winter had trained for-- and to accept such a profound power in her stead...” He allowed this sentiment to trail into silence with a shake of the head, instead making room for a firmer commitment to his next remark.

“I am glad you’re safe.” The sentiment, uttered in all sincerity, chased away all memory of Winter’s text presently; for the General could not in this moment picture a world in which one of his most dutifully loyal aides would act out to his detriment. So to follow did his eyes drift skyward, his bearing next to unyielding as he passed on their next course of action.

“When we return...we will raise Atlas far beyond the reach of the Grimm-- beyond Salem...” They could not afford to do otherwise. Everything depended on it.

[tinheartedly]

kingfishersluck‌:

“Yes. She and I have established enough of a boundary to maintain neutrality, at least within our house. I’m not sure what she has in terms of ability. If I were to make a guess, I would say she’s just as powerless as we are at the moment. Which is to say still a threat.” A shrug was offered at that. “She isn’t who I’m worried about, to be candid, sir.”

Knowing that he would be asked about this, he had been considering the best way to approach this. But now, hearing the calmer way in which James asked him about others they may know, he straightened his shoulders. This report would be less…

Simple.

“Aside from Robyn Hill, I have encountered Ruby Rose and Qrow Branwen. I have been informed that Oscar Pine is also present here. The one who informed me is a tad more difficult to explain.” Hands clasped behind his back, shoulders and stance square, he maintained a neutral expression. 

“It’s Professor Ozpin, James.”

“In the flesh. Independent of Oscar. He willingly explained to me that death was able to be transcended here.” Not that he didn’t know that himself, but it was a far easier explanation. This would already be a serious conversation, and enough of a stress that he didn’t need to pile his own experience on it.

The reality was, his death was not vital information. It was meaningless in the here and now. So, he would naturally prioritize what was important.

“He has been here longest, from what I can surmise. From his own and Ruby’s information on Semblances, we can assume he is currently one of the more powerful Remnant residents - former or otherwise - here currently. Luckily for us, for the most part he looks the same, with the addition of an eyepatch covering an injury or lost eye. I have maintained a neutral stance with everyone I have encountered in your absence, sir.”

As Clover issued his thorough report, James gave way to pacing, a hand still adhered to his features in some respect as he internalized all that which the Ace-Op had gleaned. Robyn herself would certainly be something of a trial...considering her lack of perspective on the issue-- and Qrow... He halted in place as further regard was paid towards the peculiar positioning of his old friend.

Friend...as though he could attribute that nicety to him any longer-- so cried one half of his mind; while meanwhile, the other sought to understood the harbinger’s motivation behind keeping him in the dark as he had...

Was he merely taking Ruby’s lead on the issue? Had Qrow known at all? He assumed that if Team RWBY had been made aware of the many holes Ozpin had sewn into his story, so too had his old friend. So why not tell him sooner?

       “--esh. Independent of Oscar. He...”

“What?” The interruption was uttered half under his breath as James’ consciousness backtracked to digest that which Clover had lain before him. The news to follow brought the General’s eyes to widen, before trading in the sight of the formal composure of his aid in favor of a thousand-yard stare catered to the foliage strewn beneath them. To follow, his words came softly, measured as if by the syllable:

“This is worse than I feared...”

Perhaps, had he maintained his scrutiny, James would have sensed something off about the candid conversation centering around ‘death’-- or else, some faint twitch or tell that would betray Clover’s omission. Yet, even provided the absence of Clover’s penchant for good luck, James’ insight was supplanted by unease-- a succinct and paralyzing sensation in the back of his mind that commanded every ounce of his attentions; thereby sparing Clover for the moment...

Creeping and cold, James felt the flush of heat divert its path from his cheeks, staying itself somewhere beyond even the farthest reaches of his remaining limbs. Pawns of the Queen (given any multitude of forms-- friendly or otherwise) purposed to hinder his movements he had in some part anticipated...but this...

He’d had so many questions-- once; a need for input, and for affirmation...to hear that his judgement calls were the very least of what was expected of him in order to keep the Kingdom of Atlas safe. And yet, the very memory of him had all but consecrated the man’s words in spite of James’ knowledge (at that time dormant in memoriam of him)-- the sobering truth that the General’s affectation towards action would only be ill-received in the eye of the headmaster.

Where James might have otherwise steeled himself, before Clover he merely froze, his gaze leveled in the dirt as those many thoughts he’d only ever grazed in passing took root at various intervals at the head of conscious thought.

He had always hoped...--from the very moment that Qrow had announced his return.

But now...?

[musingmeme-blog]

beep beep how’s my portrayal ?