General Ironwood - Tumblr Posts
Glynda is the vice headmistress - now headmistress - of Beacon Academy. She is Ozpins left and right hand woman and someone who has been with him through everything during his time as headmaster.
We've seen posts going on and on about Qrow and the other members of the inner circle, especially the ones that have characters to do with The Wonderful Wizard of Oz but they never mention her or how she copes with everything. I think I might try and fix that.
(T.W: this is going to contain a theory of mine on how her semblance works),
Glynda's semblance, as we know, is telekinesis. She moves objects on either smaller or larger scales and has the ability to fix and repair things with her mind. We've seen her control and fix things on large scales before (the breach and the food fight) and as we know by now a semblance is a special power made by the soul/ Aura to fit one's personality, mental, or emotional state.
Depending on your mental and emotional health your semblance can evolve it doesn't matter if your feelings are negative or not your semblance will automatically evolve and to stay compatible with your personality and traits, you can still train it to get stronger though. Ren and Ruby are perfect examples for this.
Glynda is a vice headmistress, a member of the inner circle, Ozpins closest confident, a renowned huntress, and a combat teacher and disciplinarian at Beacon Academy. The most successful and prestigious of all four Academies. Safe to say she's got a lot of power at Beacon. We see that she cares about the students following the rules and staying on track while trying to enforce said rules. She has control on just about everything at Beacon. We also see that she's trying to keep everything together, keep her students safe, keep Ironwood trusting Ozpin, keep the school in shape. She needs to keep things together or else they'll break and fall apart.
After the fall of Beacon we see her trying to put a shop back together using her semblance...but it doesn't work. She's out of breath and confused. Yes you could play it off as she's probably tired from doing other things like putting Beacon back together. But that is not the case. We see that she's started putting the school back together later on after helping repair the city in the books, and the rest of the city still looks very much destroyed.
I have a theory on how a part of her semblance might work.
She needs to KNOW. That's it. She just needs to know. We all know her fairy tale inspiration is Glynda the Good witch of the east and that she is someone very important and someone with knowledge on just about everything. Glynda doesn't know anymore. She doesn't know what happened to her students, she doesn't know what happened to Lionheart or Ironwood, she doesn't know about Oscar or Emerald's redemption, and she doesn't know about Raven, Winter, Penny, Fria, or the maidens. The Good Witch lost her knowledge.
We also don't know how young (or old) she was when she unlocked her semblance. If it was when she was young as in a child or pre teen then I was right and she did not have a fun childhood like the rest of the cast, if it was when she was a student - a new huntress, then the stress was probably getting to her, if it was recent - as in slightly before canon - then the stress finally got to her but she didn't show it (most unlikely in terms of timeline and experience with her semblance (most likely in terms of stress) or it could be all of them but she just didn't show it because of being stubborn and a workaholic
You have no idea how much I wanted that.
Please post to A03 or ffn.
Until proven otherwise, my headcanon is that both Ironwood and Watts survived and are going to team up again out of necessity lmao.
HI, ANON. So let me tell you about how this simple, silly sentence sent me down a 4k writing rabbit hole. “Lol I’m going to write a little parody about that” I thought to myself and then somehow? It got serious?? I honestly don’t know what this fic is, but I’m chucking it at everyone anyway.
Also, I changed the whole “Atlas and Mantle are immediately submerged in water” plot point because it’s my coping mechanism and I get to choose the canon we ignore.
***
Once upon a time there were two villains having a Very Bad Day.
The first, Arthur Watts, had survived an explosion, being buried under rubble, and the threat of a ten-story drop only to find himself suffocating amidst a magically produced fire. A horrible way to go, all things considered. Painful, of course, but more importantly, no self-respecting man should die with soot on his clothes.
Or leave behind a charred corpse.
In fact, Watts had just begun to acknowledge the full indignity of his death when the momentum he'd felt — just there on the periphery of his awareness — suddenly ceased, Atlas crashing into Mantle and throwing him with a squawk in the process. His head took a nasty hit against one of the desks, the smoky gray of the room growing darker, and by the time Watts had come to, the fire had been replaced by water.
Ice-cold water, lapping up to his knees.
"Well," he said, lifting a sodden boot. "I suppose this is an improvement."
***
Elsewhere, James Ironwood — former General of the now sinking Kingdom of Atlas — was lying facedown on the stone of the outer vault, contemplating his choices. Upon reflection, no, he didn't regret what he'd done, but it would have been nice if things had turned out...any way other than this.
"Fuck," he said to the empty hall, enjoying the reverberation. He deserved that much at least.
In time, Ironwood was able to pick himself up off the floor, supported as much by the fact that he'd been knocked out by his own blast as his shaky, barely-there aura. Up the elevator running on emergency dust reserves, through the corridors that groaned ominously under damaged supports. Ironwood headed towards the military headquarters purely out of habit and as he did the sound of water grew stronger, almost like waves, until there was an inch of it across the floor, more trickling in from the staircase. Ironwood had been watching his boots splash with each step, almost mesmerized, and didn't look up until another pair unexpectedly entered his view.
Watts froze in the act of wringing out his pantleg, eyes wide. His expression, the water, how the hallway tilted downward at a slight angle... it all felt like something out of a dream. Ironwood just watched as Watts watched him, until his eyes traveled to the gun clipped on his belt. Ironwood hadn't even realized he'd picked it up.
"Here to kill me, James?" Watts said.
"No." He knew it was true as soon as he'd said it. The mere thought of starting another fight right now was... exhausting. "Do you intend to kill me?"
"Oh really. Does it look as if I'm in a position to fight you? Do use your head for once. I have no weapon, no aura — damn fire ate it all up — I feel as if I've swallowed a hot coal, I am wet — "
Ironwood turned partway through the ramble, meandering back up the way he'd come. He'd passed through two checkpoints before realizing that Watts was not only still talking, but following him.
"What do you want?" he asked, more to shut the man up than out of real curiosity. If Watts was capable of reading the difference between the two, he didn't show it.
"Cinder."
"Cinder?"
"I don't make a habit of allowing people to try and murder me without consequence, James!"
"She's gone."
"Yes, thank you for that stunning bit of info! There's no possible way I could have realized that for myself. What's gotten into you? They left us, fool. Salem, Cinder, Neo, Emerald, even your so-called allies... they all deserve the worst that we can grant them. Though right now, I'd settle for wringing that idiot Pietro's neck. Ten years I gave to that research and he rendered it obsolete with a single report, all because he wanted to play father to some stupid hunk of metal. I never would have gone to Salem if — " Watts cut off, hands balled into fists.
Ironwood just blinked dazedly, coming to a halt. He searched his uniform, the scroll he'd stashed there miraculously whole. Dimly, he registered that he should be feeling some sort of emotion right now.
"I can do that," he murmured.
"What?"
But Ironwood was already keying in the code, the desire to complete a task, any task, taking hold. Watts looked on, mouth twisted in a deprecating sneer.
"I already took out communications, in case you failed to notice."
"But not the trackers I had installed in my top scientists." Ironwood held up the screen where a small, red dot was blinking. "Pietro's still here. Looks like he's out near the mine with a second aura signature. If you want to...?" He wasn't going to finish that sentence.
"I see," Watts said in a tone that heavily implied he didn't. "And you'd just give me this information out of the evilness of your heart?"
Ironwood considered that. "I killed a man yesterday, tried to kill two others, and was ready to bomb all of Mantle to keep the rest of my Kingdom safe. I don't care what you do with the man who betrayed me."
"...fair enough."
Except after five steps Ironwood realized that Watts wasn't following him. He was looking down at his arms, still as a hunted hare.
"You put trackers in all your scientists?" he asked.
"A requirement I implemented after you went missing."
"Ah! Ingenious. Lead the way then."
***
The way led to the tundra, an environment that neither of them were prepared for. Watts was wet from the waist down and Ironwood had long ago learned that snow and metal didn't mix. Neither had the aura for the kind of storm that was raging either. Luckily, the panic of Salem's invasion had left plenty of vehicles to purloin and soon they were speeding East with the heat on, the faint beeping on Ironwood's scroll growing stronger.
He'd felt the impact of his city crashing down and the two of them had clamored out of Atlas' husk, dropping into rubble and cracking ice. Still, the true destruction wasn't evident until they were moving away from it. Through the rearview mirror, Ironwood could see pillars of smoke from fires that the water hadn't yet smothered, dark shadows that could only be grimm, and Atlas itself, plunged halfway into Mantle. It wasn't noticeable from this distance, but all of it was sinking.
"I was lucky," Ironwood said, his voice hollow. His eyes flicked back to the expanse of snow ahead of them. "If Atlas had tipped the other way, the vault would have flooded. I'd have drowned."
Watts snorted. "I'm lucky. That damned water put out Cinder's fire. I'd have burned."
Neither felt particularly lucky and for fifteen more minutes, neither was keen to discuss it.
***
Once upon a time, two heroes were having a Very Bad Day.
"You've got to be shitting me."
Maria paused in the act of bandaging Pietro's leg, mechanical eyes narrowing at the two figures that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Watts sucked in a breath at the duo. Ironwood gave a small, awkward wave.
Then he nodded his head at the scene: one old, exhausted woman and a paraplegic currently bleeding into his chair. "So... going to kill him?"
Watts ground his teeth. "Well now that just feels like a fool's errand. Look at him. He's pathetic!"
Pietro was slumped at an uncomfortable angle, sporting a gash in his leg and an impressive display of bruises across his face. Maria, in contrast, seemed to have only lost her hair tie.
"Pathetic?" she spat. "Your lackey did this!"
"Who?"
"Angry girl with the creepy arm."
"Ah, it all comes back to Cinder." Watts pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, thank you for recognizing that I was her superior, but no, I didn't send her to kill the likes of you. Must have done it on her own, the little idiot. Don't believe me? I was in jail at the time, if I recall correctly. Isn't that right, James?"
"You were helping me hack Penny."
Maria let out a skin-crawling cackle. "Why do you think the girl was here? She blew a hole in the bottom of Amity! Penny tried to hold us up, but..." she swallowed, still pressing against Pietro's leg, but turned warily towards them. "You hacked her? You did that? What precisely do you think happens when a man who never learned to apply aura as a shield crash-lands in this hunk of junk!"
"I expect most men in that position perish," Watts said smoothly. "The fool is lucky to be alive, but he won't be for much longer if you keep trying to staunch the wound with your soiled gloves. Move aside."
"Get away from me!"
"Oh, put your stick down, you old bat. I'm trying to help."
"Why?" Ironwood hadn't realized he'd spoken until Watts was glaring daggers his way.
"So I can kill him later myself!"
Still surreal. Still dream-like in its absurdity. Ironwood listened to the bickering between Watts and... Mary? Maria? He wasn't even sure. He wandered away, content to gaze out through one of the windows at his Kingdom. Or what was left of it. He idly massaged his left arm, trying to rid himself of a pain that wasn't there, and when the howl of a grimm reached them across the snow, he shivered.
His unlikely companions screamed at each other loud enough to reverberate through the whole building. There were the sounds of two bodies trading blows, but only for a moment. Pietro, voice groggy and high-pitched with terror, demanded to know where his daughter was.
"She's dead," Ironwood said. He didn't turn to see their expressions, didn't need to. "Winter she... she defeated me as the Winter Maiden. That can only mean one thing."
"One thing to you, perhaps." Ironwood did turn then, watching stoically as Pietro tried to right himself in his chair, Watts cursing as the leg continued to bleed. "Where is she? I want to see my little girl. I can heal her, fix her — " he broke off, doubling over with a cough that splattered more blood into his hands.
"Maybe you could have," Watts said, a cruel satisfaction in his voice. "If her little friends hadn't made her human."
Some of the pieces fell into place then. His Lamp, long missing, had apparently wound up in Neo's hands, then Salem's, before it was finally used by Cinder. Watts described — with immense pleasure — the plan the group had concocted and the wish they'd asked of Ambrosius. He'd been a bit preoccupied with bomb duty to learn the details, but he knew that Cinder lived and Ironwood, it seemed, knew that Penny had perished. What a tragedy. Do you know how to bring back the non-mechanical, Doctor?
Ironwood honestly thought the old woman was about to kill him, murderous intent put on hold only because Pietro collapsed then, curling in on himself as sobs wracked his frame. The only words that escaped the mess of tears were "Penny" and then "Maria," one hand reaching out blindly for comfort. Pietro found it, the two holding onto each other as Watts sat at their feet, grinning up at the display.
Ironwood thought only, So that is her name.
The other, crucial bit of info was that everyone was gone. Dead or evacuated, it didn't matter. As far as any of them knew, they were the last four in Atlas, with Salem on her way to destroy whatever kingdom next took her fancy. It was over. They'd lost. And despite the horror of it, the realization was oddly freeing too.
When Maria asked in a tone edging on hysteria what precisely they were going to do — because it seemed this was a "we" situation now — Ironwood suspected she meant in the short term. What were they going to do about their wounds? The grimm? Finding and reaching the others? But those were foolish concerns, the thinking of someone who'd never had a kingdom's life in their hands. Ironwood knew there was only one answer here, the same one he'd had from the start.
"You can do whatever you like," he said. The metal of Amity sparkled against the rising sun, leaving splotches of color behind his eyes. "I will defend Atlas."
Maria's mouth dropped open and Watts stared. Even Pietro ceased his crying long enough to suck in a breath.
"Defend it from what?" he asked.
Ironwood shrugged. "The grimm. Salem. I don't know. I don't care. To quote a former friend, I have never wavered in defending the Kingdom of Atlas against its enemies and I don't intend to start now. This is my city and I won't leave it."
"It's sinking!" Watts cried, overlapping with Maria's, "We need to help" and though so much softer, quieter, more innocent than the spittle Watts was scattering across the floor... that single word sank its teeth into Ironwood. The woman may as well have stabbed him.
"Help?" he said. "Help? I tried to help! Everything that I have done in the last two days — the last two years — my life! — has been to help not just Atlas, but everyone I feasible could. Don't talk to me about help when you and Ms. Rose did everything you could to stop me. I had planned to help the world and you all lied. You betrayed. You set your weapons against me and kept me from saving what parts of my Kingdom I could. Tell me again: what precisely did you do to help?"
He'd crossed the distance, one hand on his holstered gun and the other leaning against Pietro's chair, using it to leverage himself down into Maria's space. Ironwood didn't need to see her eyes to know the emotion they held.
"I," she spit, "didn't try to bomb a city."
And just like that the fight in him was gone. It had barely existed in the first place. Ironwood straightened, swaying slightly on the balls of his feet. "No. You didn't. So it's as I said, go help if you want. If you can." His gaze slid to Watts. "You were one of her men. That says it all." Pietro. "You helped them reveal Salem to the world. Will she have time to destroy the other kingdoms before the grimm do it first?" Maria. "And I don't know you, but you don't earn a prize like that without seeing combat." Ironwood lifted his metal finger, tapping it against Maria's goggles. She flinched away. "Can you honestly say you haven't made mistakes?"
"You and I are nothing alike!"
"I didn't say we were."
Ironwood turned and walked away, as steady as he could manage as the world grew a little darker, despite the sunrise. Behind him Watts' voice rang out like a shot.
"So that's it then? The captain goes down with his ship? You idiot!"
He paused. "Not quite. It turns out I'm not the only idiot around these parts. Ms. Rose left the vault open." One last turn to savor their shocked expressions. "That's where I'm going. There are still plenty of airships if you'd like to leave, but just remember: they abandoned you too."
Perhaps he should have been surprised that by the time his boots hit the snow, three more footsteps were sounding behind him. Frankly, in fourteen hours time Ironwood would barely remember their conversation, let alone everything that came after it. One of them drove back to the sinking city. Someone tested the ice before they cautiously crossed it. Someone else dispatched the stray grimm foolish enough to get in their way. Ironwood saw and heard none of it. He walked with the determination of a wind-up toy, wobbling now that he'd reached the end of his string. Cool blues, a shining gold, and then beautiful, miraculous grass. Ironwood ignored the murmurs of amazement behind him, dropping directly to his knees.
When his palms hit the ground, only one was capable of feeling how soft it was.
I need to update my arm, he thought, even as he curled into a ball and passed out.
***
When he woke they were already running out of time.
For the first two days Ironwood barely spoke to the others and thus he never quite figured out why they'd stayed. Had it been hopelessness? Spite? The all consuming thought that there was nowhere else to go? That Atlas, for all its rubble and slowly rising water, wasn't any different from what the rest of Remnant would look like soon?
Why not here then?
Especially when the vault, filled with wildflowers and an endless sun, made for such an enticing retreat.
"Soil's farmable," Maria said, running some of it through her fingers. It was a statement of fact, nothing more, and the three of them stubbornly ignored the implications of it.
"There's — " Pietro coughed, self-consciously clearing his throat. "There's plenty to salvage. Machinery to pull water from the humidity in here. First aid supplies. We could section off an area for our wa — "
Watts seethed. "If you finish that thought I will — "
"What?" Maria arched a brow. "Kill him? Like you've been saying for the last day?"
Day? Ironwood blinked. How long had he been out?
"I will!"
"Like you'd be able to. Just try it, beanpole."
They argued, and they threatened, but none raised their hands to one another again, and when they finally dispersed across the kingdom to collect what they could, none of the acknowledged what it was for.
Ironwood waded through the remnants of his home and didn't think about building another. Because the idea alone was absurd.
"Don't let the door slam shut," he'd said when they’d first left, nodding to the stone slab that had appeared after Penny had first arrived. Ironwood watched the three exchange glances, unsure if he was joking.
Fuck if he knew.
***
Those four days — or five, if Ironwood counted the one he'd lost — were conducted in a strange state of frenzy. None of them were in a position to be working on such a project, but when had the world ever cared for their needs? Pietro stayed behind in the vault, cataloguing what they'd found and making lists for what was still needed. His chair, while dynamic, wasn't meant for the sort of terrain Atlas had become and his wound was still healing.
He also seemed to appreciate the privacy, frequently mourning his daughter with an honesty that made them all uncomfortable.
Maria went off to do the Gods only knew what, disappearing for hours at a time, then coming back wet, cold, and carrying little. Though she always had information. Which parts of the city were too grimm invested to traverse, which were now completely underwater, which were too unstable as Atlas tilted like a ship, disappearing beneath the waves. It gave them all focus and, surprisingly, something like hope. Whatever else she carried was usually small, such as the seeds filched from the bio laboratories.
"Couldn't take them all," she said, critically surveying the land, "what with so many of the labels getting lost in the crash. Don't want to eat something your lot has experimented on."
"You should. If we're lucky you'll mutate into someone bearable." Watts, taking stock of the clothing they'd gathered, didn't seem to realize that Maria was flipping him off.
He went on a deep dives (sometimes literally) for salvageable tech, most of it of a practical nature, but other pieces... not. Nothing had shifted Ironwood's world view quiet like day two, walking in on Watts looming over Pietro, assuming there was another fight brewing... only to overhear them exchanging theories, the conversation filled with as many insults as legitimate claims. Still, the seeds of camaraderie were there, and were perhaps easier to grow than originally thought. After all, Watts had once been one of them and Pietro, for all his heroics, had once entered Ironwood's office with a manic gleam in his eye, rambling about giving an aura to a machine. Defense technology at its finest!
What was it Glynda had said? Ah yes, agreeing with young Ms. Nikos about how "wrong" it all was. But desperate times, desperate measures and all that.
They'd had that discussion, of course. Soon after Ironwood awoke, talk of Amity began again, this time about whether it was possible to send another message. With enough time and effort, not to mention luck... a short one, perhaps, and only sent to an individual scroll. But what was the point? Who would they call? When no one could — or would — answer that question, the idea was dropped.
In the days since, Ironwood had fantasized about messaging Glynda. One of the few who'd ever been a true friend, perhaps the only one left alive who might care that he was still among the living... if Ms. Rose's message hadn't killed that too. Not that it mattered. Even if Amity wasn't a hunk of metal gathering ice, Ironwood hadn't a clue what he might say to her.
Dear Glynda,
Thank you. Sorry. Good luck.
Sincerely,
General James Ironwood
P.S. If things had ended differently, I would have asked for a second dance.
How ridiculous.
So he walked the broken streets of Mantle and climbed the streets of Atlas, more and more of it disappearing every day. Their hoard grew though, born of not just military property, but personal belongings as well. It wasn't as if anyone was coming to claim them. Unless more magic was at work, both cities would be miles beneath the ice before anyone crossed the border again. Still, Ironwood would always pause before packing away what he found in the hastily abandoned houses. Bedding. Utensils. The literal shirt off someone's back. He'd changed into jeans and a thick sweater the second day, taken from a collection of civilian clothes he'd placed into a locker years ago and promptly forgot about. The uniform felt... obsolete now, no matter that his goals remained the same.
He'd encountered Maria on one of those trips, admiring a basket of yarn in some nameless Atlesian's living room. Her shoulders had tensed at his approach, but she just snorted at the sight of him.
"You knit?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.
"No."
"Crochet?"
"No."
Ironwood didn't know any other crafts that involved yarn. "Then why are you taking it?"
Maria hummed. "Just a thought. That I might, someday, try to learn." She shook a book she’d pulled from the basket: Knitting For Beginners.
A stray thought indeed. The thing they still didn't talk about. The closest they got was on the fifth night when an explosion sounded outside, massive enough to unsteady them even deep within the vault. By the time all four of them had made it out and onto one of the roofs, the sky had turned a sickly yellow, followed by black tendrils that raced, turning, back and around on each other until everything went dark. The only light came from what little electricity they had running on generators and a red aura, pulsing from the West.
From Vacuo.
Realistically, it might have meant that they'd won. It wasn't as if Ironwood had any idea what the death of an immortal witch looked like. But the night wore on and they had no idea because that unnatural, starless black never receded. In time, Pietro wandered off and returned with two bottles he'd pilfered from somewhere, cracking the tops off on the side of his chair and passing them around.
They still didn't say it aloud, though the sky and the alcohol said enough already. Ironwood kept his eyes on the watch his mother gave him, hours ticking by until sunrise was long overdue. Atlas felt even colder now and that red, seeming to inch closer, sent a different kind of chill down his spine. The grimm that still prowled below had taken off hours ago, summoned by some unheard call.
Ironwood downed the dregs of his bottle and threw it into the city.
"Come on," he said. Ordered maybe, or asked. He wasn't sure he knew the difference anymore.
Blankets. Glasses. As many non-perishables as they could find. Generators. Tool kits. The building blocks of renewable energy. Clothing. Decorations. Wood to build small, individual dwellings.
Watts hoarded laptops and a small mountain of batteries, never showing them what he was working on, intensely protective.
Maria grew obsessed with entertainment, snagging every book, game, and video until there was a veritable library piled on the grass. She kept muttering about deserving a real retirement.
Pietro built a shrine to Penny, a simple stone monument to the left of the doorway. He tended to organize their supplies there, occasionally reaching out a hand to brush the code he'd inscribed with a laser. Whatever meaning it held, Ironwood couldn't read it within the ones and zeros.
And he... he found a cat. His last day, picking his way across dwindling islands until his eyes found the small, electrical fire just out of the water's reach. The cat had wedged herself into the rubble above it, trying desperately to keep warm.
She was as black as the sky above them and Ironwood was sure, when he reached out, that she'd run, terrified of his prosthetic hands. They certainly weren't any warmer, but she weakly crawled into them nonetheless. Ironwood held her securely against his left side, where his heart and flesh were, and thought with an absurd, internal laugh that he'd at least saved one.
There was so much left to do still, but their time was gone. That evening, eating what little they had the stomach for, water began to pour from the vault's elevator. First a trickle, then a deluge, until there was a sizable waterfall to admire. Ironwood sat on the steps with his unnamed cat on his shoulder, watching inevitability creep towards him.
He could still lie though.
"There's still time," he said, addressing the three behind him. "If you head up the elevator shaft and down the west hall, you can still break the surface. Find one of the remaining airships. Fly away."
Watts scowled, avoiding his gaze. He remained leaning against the doorway though.
Maria and Pietro exchanged glances.
"I'd carry you," Ironwood offered to Pietro. They both knew it would be a death sentence with their combined deadweight, but he'd do it anyway.
"No," he said softly. "I did all I could already."
Maria. She was harder to read with those goggles, but it wasn't peace on her face. Guilt, more likely, but that had never stopped any of them before.
"It's damn cold out here," she muttered and marched back to the grass. Pietro followed her, Watts trailing not far behind. He turned back though.
"You coming?"
Ironwood didn't answer and eventually Watts left, heading into the meadow that stretched until you lost sight of where you'd been — and then reappeared there. A tiny pocket dimension, born of a magic now lost to this world. Ironwood figured that a bit of water and ice couldn't break it.
Probably.
He watched the flood cover the floor of the vault, then lap upwards, one stair at a time. There was a part of him, a part unimaginably tired, that thought he might just sit there. Keep rooted until the water was so high it was too late to do anything. That would be easy. Fitting, even. Shouldn't he go with his kingdom?
But then the cat — his cat — dug nails into his shoulder and Watts said something that made Maria screech. Ironwood sighed.
There were still things to protect, simple as that had become.
He turned his back on Remnant, now encased in an eternal night, and walked to the three who remained, cowering in an eternal day.
Ironwood allowed them one last choice and when they all nodded, he kicked the vault door shut.
i honestly feel bad for ironwood
I feel bad for him, the guy fucking broke from what I’m aware. Nothing can justify what he did but i just feel bad for the guy who tried to save what he cared about even when bonkers of his rockers and then accidentally destroyed everything, i wish someone could have grabbed him and helped bring him back from the brink before he hit the point where he was completely broken, then again maybe i just really like early ironwood.
Mama bear
(Oscar after falling from Atlas goes and finds the rest of the teams hidding in an ice cave)
Oscar: guys I am back!
R/W/B/Y/J/N/R/P: Oscar!!!
(Oscar is tackled to the ground)
Ruby: where were you!?
Jaune: where did you go!?
Nora: and what happened you look filthy!?
Oscar: oh well after I left you guys I went to talk to Ironwood and...
Ren: and what?
Oscar: he kinda shot me off a cliff.
(Silence)
R/W/B/Y: WHAT!
(Nora grips Oscar in a bear hug)
Oscar: yeah, but as you can see I am ok sooooo
Oscar: Nora you can let go, Nora this hurts!
Oscar: hey guys help she’s crushing me!
(Everyone try’s to pull Nora off Oscar, well Nora stares blankly into the distance)
(Several hours later)
Ironwood: wait no stop (choking)
Nora: you shot my boy!
(Nora is dragging Ironwood to the edge of Atlas by his throat)
Ironwood: wait (chokes) we can talk about this!
Nora: no we can’t!
Ironwood: (chokes) Ren talk some sense into her!
Ren: Nora
Nora: (turns to look at Ren)
Ren: make sure he’s conscious when he falls, I want him to see what’s coming.
Nora: got it!
Random rwby vol8 theory (scroll if you don’t want to see kind of spoilers for chapter 1).
So you know how General Ironwood shot one of the council memebers without any regrets just because they came in asking about martial law and abandoning Mantel. Well, Qrow and Robyn have just been arrested for disobeying orders and the murder of Clover. Robyn definitely isn’t going to stay quiet about Mantel and Qrow “murdered” one of the ace ops. I don’t think he’s gonna have any qualms about killing either of them in cold blood when he meets them.
So if one of them does get killled by Ironwood, I called it
Felt like Ironwood trained Watts at some point in time.
Watts uses his pistol the same way James does in melee.
Watts could time James's movements to lure him into traps.
Watts knew James would be counting his shots. Counting bullets may be something James taught Watts.
Which begs the question; Does James teach everyone in Atlas who uses pistols? Specifically revolvers?
Ironwood is not a good marksman
Amongst Ozpin's inner circle, Ironwood is the weakest Huntsman.
His marksmanship is average.
He is not skilled enough to use complex weapons like Qrow.
He can't use Dust like Glynda.
He doesn't have Ozpin's experience.
But he has determination, he never gives up, and he can make the decisions other people can't.
Ironwood is essentially Batman.
Your point is taken, but I find Ozpin's statement doesn't hold much water because the show does not present any indication, from my view, that Atlas's fleet is causing uncertainty in Vale. In which case, I think we'll have to agree to disagree on the interpretation of Ironwood's presence in Vale. However, I consider your point valid, and will take it into consideration as I rewatch RWBY for the review I am doing.
Ironwood's Army was the right choice
In RWBY, Grimm are attracted to negative emotions. So it stands to reason that Grimm are either repelled or uninterested in positive emotions like contentment and security.
Which is why huge cities could thrive alongside Grimm. The concentrated feeling of safety and security that comes from being protected in a city like Vale overpowers the concentrated negative emotion that one would expect where large numbers of people gather.
This is why the pageantry of the Huntsmen is so important. It gives people confidence, and generates more positive emption to deter Grimm.
Therefore, Ironwood coming to Vale with his fleet is the best solution at that point in time because: Ironwood is playing to his strengths to help Ozpin.
The presence of the fleet would inspire confidence in people during the Vytal Festival.
Vale's government would be confident that Atlas is showing their support in Vale's favor. Which would further boost the feeling of security to counter any potential negative emotion due to uncertainty or mistrust.
Additionally, Ironwood made the right decision to put his forces in control after the breach because:
People are panicking.
The ability of the Huntsmen to safeguard Vale's citizens is put into doubt.
Ironwood's fleet was essential in restoring order to the city, hence the citizens would have more confidence in Ironwood's fleet.
Therefore, Ironwood made all the right moves during V3.
Dad Ironwood
Once, Ironwood was invited to a wedding as a joke and he attended. This has started a tradition amongst couples in the Atlas Military to leave a seat empty for the General in case he was ever invited to one of their weddings.
Ironwood's attendance has also started a tradition where families, who had lost Fathers under Ironwood's direct command, could request that Ironwood give the daughters away during weddings. As a favor that Ironwood tries his best to personally fulfill when he can.
Port to Ozpin's inner circle: Everyone! One of us is having relations with General Ironwood!
Qrow: You mean 'Daddy'?
Port: Exactly ...
The Tortoise has a prosthetic leg and its shell has red stripes like Ironwood's uniform.
Ironwood though a dog person doesn't have one as pet because he usually is very busy. He has however a cute pet tortoise named Major Leaf.
As someone who is too busy to get a dog themselves yep that tracks XD. Whenever Winter and Clover get on his nerves he tells them Major Leaf is in charge now.
Ironwood has the majority of votes on the Council because Major Leaf is an official Council Member. The first time Jacques Schnee tried to become a Council Member, Ironwood refused by making Major Leaf a Council Member just to veto the decision.
The Council got the message and denied Jacques a seat, but Ironwood forgot to remove Major Leaf from the roll.
Congrats anon, “councilmen turtle” is going in the next thing on my writing blog.
OMG YESSSS. Please @ me with any writing that comes from this please! Councilmen Major Leaf rules all XD
Was Ironwood right? Part 2 -
It's difficult to say if Ironwood's plan was the right plan during v8 like it was during v3. v8's theme was about how plans could get ruined due to no fault of anyone's, or perhaps the fault of everyone, and you can't do anything about it.
As it is said; "Man devises, but Heaven decides." Everyone was going to fail in v7 and v8. If RT had not intended it, then the fan outcry ensured it. After Ironwood proved himself more sympathetic than the main characters due to some freak of writing.
Perhaps it is better when discussing whether Ironwood was right in v8, to ask if Ironwood was the villain? Or was he the Hero of the story, in a 'Superman dying to stop Doomsday' kind of way and not 'a Villain is the Hero of his story' kind of way?
Heroism in fiction is selfless action, but must that action be morally right? Our heroes have historically committed acts which we wouldn't consider morally right. Yet fantasy is meant to be unrealistic, and our heroes in our stories should be held to a higher standard.
But ultimately, our Heroes should not be condemned for actions that are immoral. The legends of our historical Heroes are just as fantastic as our comic heroes, and they taught lessons that are as valuable as they are timeless.
So was Ironwood the Hero of v7 and v8? Well since this is a Pro-Ironwood blog ... But to be fair, let's address the two main incidents of Ironwood's 'villainy'.
Ironwood arresting RWBY seems to be a moment that was caused by RWBY. Not in a negative sense, but more in that RWBY were the ones who took the initiative to break the stalemate. There was no right course of action in that situation, and Ruby should have offered to go and evacuate Mantle's citizens to Atlas if Ironwood delayed the launch by an hour. Like any action hero worth his salt would do.
Ironwood would then have said; 'you have ONE Hour, not a second more. Ruby would then reply with a one-liner and shot off to save the world.
But what about Ironwood shooting down the SDC ships heading to save Mantle refugees, and threatening to nuke Mantle if RWBY did not hand Penny over?
First; Ironwood kept his word when RWBY 'kept' theirs, and RWBY followed up the backstabbing streak with a 2-0 score against Ironwood.
Second; Even if Ironwood nuked Mantle, would he be a villain if he did it to save another island city's worth of civilians? Boudica killed three cities worth of innocent Romans for the Iceni Tribe of Britons, and she is still considered a bally heroine today. Ironwood would also have destroyed Mantle for pretty good reasons, as he would have destroyed the key to opening the Vault and would have thus prevented Salem from taking the Staff.
In any case, we won't really know if Ironwood was playing a particularly brutal bluff. I'd say he was bluffing but I like Ironwood so that's a nut and a half. The more important question is whether such a bluff made Ironwood a villain.
I say, no. If Heroism is defined by Selfless, Ironwood in v8 more than fits the bill. Ironwood unironically puts himself on the line to keep Atlas, and in the process Remnant, safe. He is willing to literally tear himself apart to stop Salem. Ironwood is selfless if nothing else.
But if Ironwood is the hero, what does that make RWBY?
It has to be whatever Penny was using as her weapon while she was a robot. Ironwood adopted it to be able to destroy Penny if she didn't surrender, I guess.
Nitpick November Day....????
I can’t remember its been so long but I actually thought of one last one and just in time too but why does James’s gun gun shoot green?
Now its no secret I’ve always hated this dumb thing, but….why does Due Process’s two guns combined make it fire….green? It looks like when he takes them out they shoot normally and normally the silver due process shoots green and the black one shoots purple (likely as it is filled with gravity dust bullets.
(I know these look bad but I am tired and don’t feel like trying to get a better screenshot okay?)
But what is the gungun doing that turns the shots green? Why Green? I don’t understand and it annoys me and I know (well HOPE I should say) CRWBY has some sort of reason for it but I don’t think the show explains this and it annoys exactly me so uhh I am complaining about it here.
Now maybe James changes his black due process’s bullets to a different kind of dust or regular but that still doesn’t explain why green. Even the flames left behind are green.
(I hate this volume and this scene and all it stands for but I am making a point)
Why green? What does it mean? Fire dust is red which would make sense for him to use but green dust is according to the wiki right now plant dust. So dust clearly isn’t affecting the color of the shots, so what is? Why not use fire dust for more destruction? Nothing about this stupid gun makes any sense I hate it so much.
The thing isn't just that we think Ironwood could be written better or the story could be done in a different way.
The thing is that some of us like Ironwood unironically, and we are not allowed to do so.
In my case, I consider Ironwood a Hero compared to RWBY as the villains. This is not just a headcanon, but logical inference from the plot and plot context. Read my posts and you would see. However, RWBY fans don't like that and jump on that wagon like bears in heat.
Mine is an extreme case, but other Ironwood fans are also attacked because they like Ironwood.
Ultimately, we are not allowed to interpret Ironwood the way we want to and these attacks against unironic Ironwood fans is getting a little over the top.
That's what we have issue with.
What hurts the most about Ironwood in the end is that Miles and Kerry did this to the character they created.
I hate to bring him into this, but Monty stated that Ironwood was mostly Miles and Kerry's creation.
So Miles and Kerry took the character they created and did that to him.
Out of the entire cast that could have been an author's pet, you'd think it'd be the character created by the two writers who was there from the start.
Honestly….I didn’t know this before but knowing it now….it makes the whole damn hurt even more. Just….how could you do something so fucking awful to a character you created and seemingly liked at one point? I mean I can’t imagine how you could write that kind of story for any character really but….one that you created? It makes even less sense.
Like these guys made this character, and with the kind of people they are….why didn’t they do more projecting onto him? Why didn’t they want and push for a better ending for him? I just cannot comprehend what their thought process is on anything anymore.
Every time I think I’m as sad as I could physically get about James something like this pops up to make me sadder. What possibly could a fictional character you created do to make you hate them so much to do what they did to him?
You can 100% be angry at Ruby lying to Ironwood. Here's the thing.
People want to instantly jump down Ironwood's throat for ignoring Mantle, but Team RWBY have been doing nothing but wasting time and BRINGING the danger onto Atlas and Mantle as they carry the Lamp around with them. As much as they spout about Mantle, they really didn't do anything for them either.
As I had said before in a previous post, Volume 7 is a terribly slow one, as if the writers truly had nowhere to go with the season unless they slowed down a ton of subplots to extend the watch time. Literally nothing happened in Volume 7 until we reached the tail-end of it. Ironwood fighting Watts, Penny and Nora fighting some main antagonists, and Team RWBY still being shafted to the side, and Penny becoming the maiden.
Even Weiss' side mission of investigating her dad was pointless. Yes, I am deadass serious. I've been rewatching Volume 7 just for Ironwood and legitimately, nothing important happens until the near-end. Team Kids weren't remarkable at all and weren't doing anything. Even Robyn went absolutely nowhere and became useless in Volume 8. Sure, it sounds like they were "trying" to set her up for something unique, but all we got was some stupid politics arc and then her team stealing from the military, and yes even the theft was pointless because we never heard about it ever again. And why would we? Team RWBY destroyed Atlas and Mantle.
Actually, both sides didn't do anything special for Mantle. All they could do was just bellyache about it and then get angry with Ironwood whenever he took a breath of air, and Ironwood was focused on Atlas. However, that didn't always mean he didn't care for Mantle. Meanwhile I seriously have no idea what Team Kids wanted for Mantle. Hell, they even became divided into either saving Mantle or saving "everyone" in Volume 8. Seriously?
So, they were running around in circles, chasing their own tails. Hence why the writers must have thought, "oops, we should really wave that magic Staff to wrap all this up, we fucked it up. And kill Ironwood because maybe this will never let us touch the Atlas arc ever again."
Say or think what you will about Volume 7, but to me, Volume 8 really showed its ass.
Just because the kids first started their journey into Atlas by taking a stroll through Mantle, doesn't mean they suddenly care with all their heart. I didn't see anything for them to care about.
I wonder if anyone in this god forsaken fandom ever actually sat and put themselves in ironwood's shoes
You can't feel the entire right half of your body
You can't rely on the little bristles of sensation on your toes in the dark, feeling where carpet ends or where stairs begin
You can't reach for a glass and effortlessly, instinctually know when you've touched it. Know how to grasp it, how much force to keep it from dropping --- or shattering in your hand
You lay down in bed, and you lay wong--- and it hurts, and the putrid sloughing flesh of your unhealing scars sobs orange serous fluid from beneath your metal seams, and another set of your sheets is ruined
For all the people screaming ~omg trans rights are human rights!~ nobody seems to mind throwing a dick joke in ironwood's face
Do some basic logic
He's mutilated
(And he's still beautiful, desirable, and wholly deserving of love)