#rvb for ts

[phthalology]

Because I didn’t do enough psychic damage to myself with that character poll escaping my mutuals circle, here’s another one

[leafatlaw]

I did it know how I felt about the fact they went full on fantasy/magical theming for this season, but it has really started to grow on me

[joltning]

boreeedddd anyone wanna art tradeeeee blehhhhh i need geotah blehhhhhhhhhhh

[the-mercurial-star-o-vesper]

EVER WONDER WHY WE’RE HERE?

One of the funny things to notice about Red vs Blue, is that its a peculiar mix of Plot-Driven and Character-Driven

Its appears to be a plot-driven show, because our main characters have no real stakes, or the stakes are ultimately impersonal.

Normally in a story, it can get boring when a character is just reacting to events rather than participating. But that’s the thing about comedy, comedy doesn’t necessarily have to be funny, it just has to be light hearted, and comedy breaks the rules.

Its plot-driven in a way where the very plot of the show gets fucking annoyed that its main characters don’t have personal stakes or drives. It tries, repeatedly, to get the characters invested, and then they don’t. It is, in a sense, a Comedy of Errors.

Its plot-driven because our Main Characters are technically Side-Characters to a story that isn’t theirs. In fact, one of the most arc’d questions is literally asking, “What the fuck are we here for?”

The Freelancer Drama is the Sci-Military plot you would expect out of a major films series-- Red vs Blue is just typical military stories. Freelancers play the idea of the super soldier badass from films, and Red vs Blue is just real-world military stories, with all the idiocy, the bizarre commands, the wondering what the fuck are you doing and what the fuck were you thinking.

The Freelancer stuff is basically Halo meets Mass Effect, with galaxy ending stakes and weird powers and weapons. Red vs Blue is MASH, being a lighter end of what can be summed up as “Space Vietnam War”.

Even Church, the closest we have to a main character in the cast, has this dynamic-- real-world side, he’s a highly traumatized asshole who struggles with apathy and self-worth, which tends to be more real than naught-- but epic-plot side, he’s just the background MacGuffin you hear about, but only shows up about 2/3′s of the Movie in when most of the important shit is done and then he dies because he’s not important anymore.

So when the plot comes poking, Our Main characters (The side-characters, the typical campfire story grunts) ultimately tell it to fuck off half the time.  RvB looks you straight in the eye, and basically asks “Are you seeing this shit? That’s kinda fucked up, man.”

Meanwhile, the Freelancer drama is a bunch of unique characters that could all fit the Hero role of an epic space drama, with all their personal stakes, all the plot triggers going on and how they actively affect the world around them...

... and it sucks. Turns out, being a self-centered individual with super armor powers who is trying to get what they want at all times, like a typical story-character in name any movie / book / show, is absolutely fucking Miserable and Destructive. They’re the deconstruction of Main Characters, where each person is a Main Character who holds their own focus the plot-- and most of them die in the end to needless dramatic nonsense, trying to compete to be that Main Character at all times, to a severe “Narrator” (The Director).

And ultimately, it could’ve all been resolved with everybody living, if they hadn’t given that much of a shit.

Dropped the character-arc and just, sit down and talk. React to shit, you don’t have to be that important.

There’s very few times that our man RvB Cast, the Blood Gulch Crew, flips the switch from Reaction to Action. And it usually means, if ts the loss of a Squadmate.

The Galaxy is too damn big, and they’re a tiny group on the front lines, its impossible to care about every little thing and its impossible to believe that one small odd circumstance or one overly dramatic and angsty super-soldier can end everything, but you can at least ensure the bastard next to you gets to live to see the next planet-rise. Because that’s kind of a fucked up thing to let happen.

And that...

... is where the real Character Drive is. Its based on real-world like characters, people you would see or meet randomly and they’re always “That One Guy”. Any personal stakes are purely their own, and not really any of the plot’s damn business. Frankly you’re there to just do a job and hopefully not die, because real people don’t normally put their goals so grandiose.

Grif just wants comfort and doesn’t bother pushing himself to any lengths if there’s no point, Simmons wants to be appreciated for his intellect and be supported under pressure, Donut wants to be expressive after a life time of repression, Sarge wants purpose any purpose, Tucker wants physical comforts but he has no social skills, Caboose wants to be happy, Doc wants to help people in general, and Church is just looking for a decent enough change where he’s not in the pit he is now.

And the “Plot” is annoyed, because it views these things as unimportant. It wants to push, shove, drag kicking and screaming, until the characters do what it wants them to do... and then they continue not to, because any sane person would look at the plot, and run away screaming.

The Plot drives the Freelancers Drama, and events happened it fucked up everybody involved, because no matter the stakes or the arcs, the Freelancers all wanted one thing-- to basically be Space Super Hero Soldiers (Because you help people and that’s cool as hell). And you can’t really be character-driven when you all have the same goal and no real agency on how to reach it that isn’t reactive and doesn’t end in someone being dead.

All of it was the machinations of a malicious narrator who couldn’t get over his personal demons, and so inflicted them on everybody. S’bit like bad drama.

When our Cast finally could not ignore the Plot anymore, they confronted it and did so successfully-- so successfully that, in typical RvB fashion, they looked at it and then they abandoned it immediately, cos it was pointless from the start.

So in summary.

Plot-driven is actually Character-Driven, but its still simply not their plot. Real people do just sit around and talk until something interesting happens, and then don’t change very much afterwards. That’s real life, and you’d think that it wouldn’t work in a story.

On a military side, RvB in its first 14 seasons, is exactly how a military service is. The point of military is that there isn’t any unique character that’s not uniformed to the whole-- its plot-driven because you are told “Soldier, go here” and you’re trained to not ask questions (discover more plot) and be professional (be impersonal).

RvB takes the realistic route (Likely by incident-- but there were Vets in the original cast) in that a military attracts all extremes and the high stress gets to people-- so you end up with severe quirks, malpracticed coping mechanisms and plain apathy, trying not get shit duty, and following orders that simply do not makes sense if you think too hard about them.

Like I said, Space ‘Nam.

The moment that RvB tried to turned it around into a Military Space Drama, like what its been avoiding for Years, well, fucking yeah it was going fall to pieces. Because that was the exact antithesis of how RvB runs.

You do find the answer though, to one of Life’s greatest mysteries.

“Ever Wonder why we’re here?”

“Does it matter? Fuck it.”

[texas-hates-taxes-too]

RvB characters and what taylor swift albums I think they'd like

I know people generally don't like TS but I dont care anymore 😭

Carolina: I just really think she would be a Folklore girlie. Although she doesn't quite relate to it, there's something about Seven that makes her want to cry. She listens to Mad Woman on repeat but her actual favourite is Hoax

Church: pretends his favourite is Reputation but really it is Midnights. He's also quite partial to Debut. Favourite song is Karma. He gets really annoyed when he hears people dissing Dear Reader but refuses to say anything.

Wash: everyone expects Wash to like Reputation, but his actual favourite is Speak Now. He has good taste, Speak Now has no skips. His favourite is Better Than Revenge, but he also really likes Innocent

Sarge: OBVIOUSLY his favourite album is Red. He refuses to listen to anything else. The only song from another album he has heard is Maroon and only bc Simmons literally begged him to listen to it

Simmons: 100% evermore fan. He tried to get into folklore too but just wasn't as into it. Favourite song is Tolerate It. No Body, No Crime is also a guilty pleasure

Grif: 1989!! Also really likes Folklore and it lowkey bothers Simmons bc occasionally grif will offhandedly mention the Themes™ and Simmons hates that Grif knows more about something than him. Grifs favorite song is Out of the Woods

Donut: everyone expects his favourite to be Lover but HE is the real reputation girlie. He does love Lover too though. He can't choose a favourite song bc he loves them all equally but maybe if he had to choose? Don't Blame Me

Caboose: Lover boy <3 He isn't actually very good at knowing what album each song is from so if asked he'll just say he likes all of them. It just happens to work out that the ones he listens to the most are Lover songs. His favourite is Its Nice to Have a Friend

Lopez: Debut. No explanation he just likes that one.

Doc: incapable of picking a favourite, he loves all the albums the same

Tex: she never listened to any of the albums after Debut and Fearless. Favourite song is Picture to Burn. She refuses to sing the updated lyrics

Tucker: I almost forgot him. He says he doesn't like any of the albums but really it's bc he's the biggest fan out of all of them and he doesn't want to accidentally admit this so he just pretends to not know any of the songs. Slipped up one time when when carolina caught him humming The Lakes

[postsofbabel]

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[goodluckdetective]

Fic: I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire

Summary: 

The Institute catches up with Simmons.

He refuses to go quietly. 

Warnings: Body horror (off screen), amputation (also off screen), violence (non graphic off scene)

Authors Notes: For the anon who prompted me “Fallout 4 verse with Grif and Simmons where something bad happens to the other and they can't prevent it :)” This takes place between the last two sections in “We Will All Go Together When We Go.” 

A03

There was no place in the Wasteland that was 100% safe. This was a fact Simmons had become painfully aware of since he stepped out of the Institute and was confronted with animals twice their normal size, and storms that spread radioactive fog with each fall of rain. He’d gotten used to the danger over the last few years, as much as someone could get used to such things. He killed radroaches with the nearest blunt object instead of shooting them from afar. His reaction to radioactive storms was to close the windows and tell Grif he’d have to run the shop today. There was a pistol under his pillow, a rifle under the shop counter, a knife in the register and a fat man under the floorboards.

Simmons was based off a pre-war man, but he no longer acted like one. He knew his life from here on out would be saturated with danger at every turn, and if he ever stopped carrying a gun, he was a dead man. The Institute, their presence a looming threat, was never far from his mind. Simmons might look like a man, but to the Institute he was a missing piece of technology. A synth they wouldn’t hesitate to drag back once they found him.

Honestly, Simmons surprised it took them this long to take a crack at him. He’d been hiding in plain sight for ages. He was starting to think they might have decided he wasn’t worth raiding Red city for.

He might be correct on that assumption, he thought, staring down an Institute pistol. The Courser and his cronies hadn’t shown until he was a few miles outside of city limits. He was in the middle of the Wastes now, the perfect place to sight to capture a poor sap kicking and screaming without anyone noticing. As far as the Wastes went, he had even less cover than usual, nothing but a few trees and tall grass to use as cover. The fact he managed to run as long as he did without getting shot was a fucking miracle in itself. He’d lost his weapons in the shootout and the only thing he still had on him was a dumb backpack to help carry his delivery to Blue city.

“Unit 1837,” the Courser said. He was wearing those fucking ridiculous black visors the Institute made them wear, a blank expression on his face. Simmons was positive the place was run by Matrix fanboys given the get up they used as uniforms. “You are not at your assigned location.”

Coursers also talked like they were in the Matrix, their tones flat, their words as simple as possible. You are not at your assigned location. That was Courser for “you’re an escapee and we’re here to catch your ass, drag you to our base and wipe you until you only know five words.”

Simmons wasn’t a fan of the plan, to say the least. He rather liked his vocabulary as it was.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Simmons said, trying not to flinch as the pistol raised an inch to hover right between his eyes. Lying was always worth a shot. Given the fact the Courser didn’t even twitch, he didn’t think his lie landed. “Okay, look, do we have to do this?”

“What do you mean?” the Courser said. He still didn’t move. The two early model Synths behind him were perfectly still, almost like statues. Simmons wondered how much thinking they did. Did they think more like him or to the guard robots that patrolled the central library? Were they true AI or just commands programed to repeat?

“This.” Lifting his hands as slow as possible as to not startle any of the synths, he gestured to the gang in front of him. “The whole “come with us” “I don’t want to” “we can do this the easy or the hard way” banter. Because if we’re going that route, we going to have to have a stupid fight that ends with your friends needing a few spare parts and me very dead. Which probably will make me no longer useful for whatever shit you want me back for.” Simmons put his hands down so they rested in the grass. Clenching the strands helped him keep his voice steady. “I’m an old model, aren’t I? Scrap? Is scrap really worth all this effort?”

The Courser was quiet for a moment. For a brief second of hope, Simmons thought he might have actually convinced a Courser to be lazy. But then he watched as the Courser lowered his gun to Simmons chest. His smile, one as rigid as the one of fake plastic store models, was chilling.

“You say this like you’re a threat.”

He had Simmons there. Simmons might have been a synth but unlike the Courser he was made to appear like a regular old human not a super solider. He didn’t have any fancy super strength or boosted speed, his intelligence, while high, was the fault of the man he was copied from. He was pathetic in a melee fight, useless with any short range weapons and only truly excelled with the heaviest of artillery possible. Heavy artillery was not meant for close range. As far as the Courser was concerned, there was no way out of this for Simmons that didn’t mean risking his own self preservation.

Unfortunately for the Courser, Simmons had a very different idea of what self preservation meant. For the Courser, for the Institute cronies who programmed his head, it was to come back in one piece with as little damage as possible. But for Simmons?

It was doing anything to escape going back to the Institute and forget everything he’d ever know. Like what the land used to look like pre-war. Or how Donut managed to ride a Deathclaw around and not get eaten. Sarge’s wild speeches every time Red City got a new shipment of cheap liquor.

The sound of Grif’s laugh.

Simmons lifted up his arms and feigning surrender. His backpack loosened and fell off one arm, hanging precariously on the other. “Alright, alright. But-”

The Courser lowered his pistol just a fraction, taking Simmons surrender as genuine. Simmons took his chance, throwing up his backpack into the sky behind him. Before the Synths could respond, he jumped forward, tackling the two first gen Synths and knocking them onto their backs. The Courser spun on his heel, pistol raised.

Tick-Tick-Tick. In the second before the backpack hit the ground, Simmons grinned, lugging the two gen one synths up for as much cover as he could get. The Institute might be smart, but apparently they weren’t smart enough to avoid attacking an explosives salesmen with nothing to lose. Especially without checking to see what he was delivering.

If he survived this, Simmons thought, Carolina would be pissed. She’d been trying to get her hands on a mini nuke for months. Shame Simmons had to waste it.

The backpack hit the ground.

An explosion.

Then nothing.

Simmons woke up three days later down his right arm and leg.

Carolina found him, he’d learn as he recovered from being blown to all hell. A mini nuke explosion attracts attention and when she’d gone to check it out, she’d found Simmons in a crater, surrounded by shards of gen one synths and a fried Courser. The only reason Simmons hadn’t bled out was pure luck. By the time she’d gotten him to Blue City, Radiation Sickness almost finished the job the bomb didn’t.

Carolina delivered the news about his arm and leg like she was announcing a death. Church would be able to find him robotic replacements, he was a crafty old piece of junk, but Simmons found he didn’t mind the loss much even if Church’s mad scheme didn’t work.

Two lost limbs was better than losing your entire sense of self.

Grif arrived a day later, smuggled into Blue City with a trench coat and a gas mask. He looked like shit when he entered Simmons room and for a whole two hours he didn’t say a word.

“They’re never not going to be after you, are they?” He said when Church and Carolina left to do some digging on a case. Kai was outside in the office, helping sort files. Simmons knew she could probably hear every word. Not that it mattered; she’d never bring it up to them. Kai was many things, but she had a surprising amount of tact when it came to other people’s business.

“Yeah, probably.” Simmons said. There was no point in lying. For a terrible moment he thought Grif might get up and leave, the fact Simmons would always be a wanted man too much to consider. But instead he reached into his bag and pulled out his Grifshot. Started sharpening the blade.

“If Church gets these limbs working, no more solo deliveries. Store can be shut down for a few days; we make shit sales when one of us is gone.’

To anyone else, it would seem a callous statement. But Simmons heard it for what it was.

Next time they come for you, they’re gonna have to go through me too.

[todeletervb]

I'm watching sander sides and hypoxia was brought up and I just

Wash!

Noooooooooo

[kikiofthevast]

Genkins has big Remus energy.

[fandsart]

Ok so I've separated this blog into branches, so that if you like my art but aren't into one of the franchises I draw for you can go to one of the other blogs.

@fandsart-rwby

@fandsart-rvb

@fandsart-sandersides

But I'll also continue posting them here, as well as some of the fanart I draw for other things, which will be less often.

[purgatorical]

this boyband is called the fuckers and its just three haircanons ive had of tucker since sai wont let me open anything :)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

[jestershark]

texelations replied to your post: i’m tempted to make and send like. 50 rvb...

almost everyone will agree with chex

see my thought is maybe do a like. bunch of the bgc and everyone hanging out and doing couply stuff on my postcard. so maybe some of that and some like, general shenanigans? like this one. 

[anneapocalypse]

I mean the calling her a bitch part is really just the tip of the iceberg, like

the whole song is literally York belittling everything Carolina cares about, everything she is, telling her she’s hard to love, telling her that the core of who she is is bad and unlovable, telling her she’s a bad girlfriend for caring more about her career than about movies and shoes.

Whether you ship it or not (the ship itself really isn’t the issue here) that’s a pretty ugly reading of York. 

And if it’s supposed to be representative of what their canon dynamic actually was... that’s fucking vile and I don’t say that lightly.

[joltning]

what are ur art trade terms....

hello anon you have five seconds before I explode /j

i Do doodle trades and full render…if you want a specific artstyle point me to it and I will do that…

ts meant to be an offer for like rvb art trades but I’ll draw ur oc instead jf u want…js dm me!!!!! im so open so free all the time maybe. same for specific questions or jsut comment them or ask box them or whatev Ja. ill probably ask for those green and white FREAKS. ain’t even gotta do my designs I just wanna see them 😭🫡

[in-sufficientdata]

Carolina, holding up two boxes of wine: Look what I brought! Juice boxes!

Kimball: Okay, Carolina, for the last time, wine is not juice, and a leather whip is not a jump rope.

Carolina, shrugging: Made *you* jump.

[secretlystephaniebrown]

🔥 Agent Washington

I don’t think Wash regrets shooting South. 

I’ve seen people put shooting South up there with shooting Donut in the list of Wash’s “badness” but honestly I don’t even think they’re in the same stratosphere. Wash not only had never met Donut before Valhalla, Donut is explicitly portrayed by the show to be “innocent”; he’s lovable, he’s usually genuinely nice, and his injuries are the only injuries in the show consistently treated seriously, going back to Blood Gulch. Donut’s injuries are never slapstick. 

South on the other hand? While plenty of people more eloquent than me have written essays about how South deserves redemption, deserved to have the chance that Wash got, and I might agree, the fact remains that Wash wouldn’t look at it like that. South betrayed him, South betrayed her brother, South stole Delta, South was dead weight. 

And Wash doesn’t consider his redemption deserved. Wash considers his redemption incidental, an act of providence, only given to him by the fact that the Reds and Blues had hearts that were far too big. Shooting South was an act of vengeance. (And honestly I think Wash probably had more nightmares about South hurting Caboose to try to get Delta back than about shooting her.)

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion.