#this is more casual so I can have my unhinged amount of tags

[nerdyvocals]

To anyone who is a fan of my writing or costume analysis, I now have a masterlist of my work for easy navigation!

Side note, my ask box is open for requests but I make no promises of when I’ll get to them

[tevanbuckley]

you know, I don’t really ship anything in this show or watch it other than like casual viewing but it really looks like the toxicity isn’t just limited to one side of the fandom. Buddies have their issues—they really, really do, and if I have to hear about how the karaoke scene was bait one more time, I might kill someone, (and calling Lou ugly is disgusting, c’mon, he’s wonderful) and they are extremely, extremely entitled and awful/misogynistic to basically any female love interest Buck or Eddie have ever had, and awful to Tommy — but the other side with bucktommy also has people talking about killing Eddie off so buck and Tommy can raise Chris and lording their canon superiority over buddie to make fun of them and doing stuff like making fun of them for still seeing it in canon when it’s ‘obviously’ sunk. Neither of these ships are better than the other, and neither are the communities associated with them — they’re both toxic as hell which makes the fandom a pretty depressing place to be, not to mention the terrible amounts of racism/misogyny present already. You guys might like to shit on each constantly but I don’t think you realize how damaging the whole situation is. Making one ship/side seem better than the other isn’t really the solution to a toxic fandom, but I really don’t think it’s going to become a more pleasant place to be.

Look at a certain point b*ddie stans complaining about toxicity is a bit like watching your cat piss on the couch and then blaming your roommate for daring to mention the smell because they left a few dishes in the sink. And tbf there are plenty of b*ddie shippers calling that stuff out, but that doesn’t seem to have changed the cats behaviour ya know?

I’m all for ship and let ship, but some of the takes over the hiatus bordered on misinformation, and I don’t think I should have to bite my tongue for the sake of faux positivity that’s not even being extended to me. I’m not perfect, but outside of answering unhinged asks, I’ve done my best to keep my comments constructive.

And fwiw I don’t think bucktommy is the “better” ship, that’d be ludicrous! Like 95% of ppl in this fandom I’ve liked b*ddie for years and I think they’re a really interesting fanon pairing (fr I could write an essay about how how special they are in the context of slash shipping). My criticisms have been exclusively about the behaviour of some b*ddie fans.

Like, how do you suggest I respond to some of these asks? (which have only gotten worse today btw). If ppl want to send me shit that makes them look stupid I’m gonna laugh at them, which I get not everyone wants to see, hence them being tagged with something ppl can easily filter out.

I’m sure some bucktommy shippers are acting like fools too (especially on anon) but like I said, cat piss vs dirty dishes.

[doomh3ad]

I see you’re taking requests about pet play and what other slasher screams “pet owner?” None other than Asa Emory himself

YOUR MIND I WAS GONNA DO ONE W HIM THIS IS SO UNHINGED IM SORRY I KINDA WENT MAD

asa emory / the collector + pet play (nsfw under cut)

-you want a man that goes HARD with his kinks? here you go. he takes the roles very seriously and considers it to be a grave insult should anyone comment on why you're literally wearing a collar - a casual one, it could be mistaken for a choker - in public.

-asa adores how you look as his pet, and how far you want to take the kink is entirely up to you, but you're definitely getting referred to as "pet" or "my pet" in front of as many people as possible. everyone just assumes asa is old fashioned, but the sly smile he gives you tells you exactly what's on his mind.

-expect him to treat collaring you as a very serious aspect of your lives. asa is a planner by nature but he goes into overdrive, handpicking the material of the collar, the colour, the tag, and the matching leash, unless you have any specific input for what you'd like. asa sees collaring as something akin to marriage, it's a symbol of love and trust and shared desires.

-he'd quite like to see you in a thick leather collar with a chain, if you let him run wild - and a choke collar, because naughty pets who don't obey their master don't get treated nicely. you'll see the nitrile gloves slipping under your collar to pull you up to his height - but that doesn't mean you can look him in the eye, he hasn't given you permission for that yet.

-teasing bastard. whistles for you in a similar tone he uses for his actual dogs. don't worry, you're his favourite pet, though <3 tells you to "heel, pet" or do little tricks for your master - can his pretty puppy roll over like a good bitch? does his perfect kitten want to play?

-he does expect you to refer to him by title when you're playing. whatever it is you've agreed to call him, sir or master or even dr. emory, if you don't call him by that name, you'll soon be taking a walk, his hands wrapped around your leash as he forces you to keep up, until you say you'll be obedient with his proper title.

-loves petting you even in simple domestic moments. your head resting on his thigh, and he strokes a hand through your hair, murmuring about how you're always so good for him, so obedient, how he loves his perfect pet and, if he thinks you're actually asleep, how he hopes he's being a good owner.

-asa is secretly rather worried that he's too harsh, or too lenient, or too pushy, and you'll seek out someone else to satisfy you. that's why he's forever asking if there's anything more you'd like to get out of this kink, if this session was alright.

-he's a very possessive lover normally, but with the amount of trust you give him to engage in this? no one will ever touch his pet if he has a say in it. a hand resting on your collar, if you're wearing one, or on your neck in lieu of it. you belong to him, and only him, and if he has to brand his initials in every piece of clothing you wear to show people that he will.

-very into any costumes or anything you wear - cat or dog ears, a little bell on your collar, etc. you'll probably have multiple collars for different situations, with slightly different tags - "property of asa emory", "asa's pet" etc.

[threewaysdivided]

awwww 😭😭😭😭

Did you write a review on the legendary teen Titans series? (Aka what young Justice could have become if they weren't overly ambitious)

What's your opinion on Paul Dini as a writer?

(Follow up to these two previous asks)

Sorry nonnie! 😅

It seems that we both tripped down a rabbit hole of doughnuts.

I assume you’re talking about the Teen Titans 2003 Animated TV Series?  In that case, you might be thinking of another user – I haven’t personally written any reviews for it.  I do have a lot of fond feelings towards the show, though; it was my first real introduction to DC Comics alongside the Justice League/ JLU animated series.  My Tumblr has a Teen Titans tag where I share art, meta etc. and I do have some thoughts about specific plots or narrative elements – you might also see me make occasional reference to it as an example on some posts in the writing advice tag.

Just for the sake of expectation management, I should explain that my Tumblr isn’t really a traditional “review blog”.  And yes, I know that probably sounds a bit crazy considering the frankly unhinged amount of YJ analysis I’ve written, especially since I’ve been blogging less about other stories in the last year. Burnout, what can you do? 

Really I’m more of a writing/ story-analysis blog.  Sometimes I might write a semi-review style post where I try to break down and articulate a particular technique/ element/ execution/ implication of a narrative in order to understand what it’s doing well or why something isn’t working.  As I said in the very first Frustrations with YJ essay, I think storytelling is fundamentally about communication and understanding.  I got into fandom as a fan-reader turned fan-writer (AO3 wink wink), and before that I worked as a casual English tutor.  I want to learn from the ways different narratives succeeded or failed at communicating their stories within the restrictions of their medium(s) so that I can better find, discuss and even tell stories myself. 

Because of that, I’m also a big proponent of the Death of the Author approach to media analysis.  Let me copy the definition over from that first essay real quick:

DEATH OF THE AUTHOR This theory posits that, because commercial art is created to be consumed, not just created, the audience’s interpretations of a work should be considered as just valid as the creator’s.  The work must stand on its own and creators cannot micro-manage their audience’s response to it. 1.  A creator’s intentions and biographical facts (political stances, religion, etc) should hold no special weight in determining the validity of an interpretation. 2.  Save for re-releases/reboots or new entries, the creator cannot and should not attempt to retroactively insert information or interpretations that were not present in the original text.

I generally don’t look too deeply into or follow the specific people behind (non-fan) works.  This isn’t always the case – if I like a specific author’s style I might look up their body of work to read more; some stories are clearly rooted in their creators’ specific opinions or experiences, which makes for interesting context; and sometimes I like to learn about the behind-the-scenes methods/techniques/production woes of a bringing a specific story to life – but mostly I put the priority on what I can learn from the final product.

As I’ve said before, commercial storytelling is the result of more than just one person.  Under the right conditions I think a rank amateur or complete hack could produce something amazing and, if faced with enough production headaches, a usually-excellent creator could end up outputting utter drek although I expect that drek would at least be creatively interesting.

The questions that interest me more are: what was this narrative trying to communicate?  what techniques were used/ creative choices were made?  how well did it succeed?  could a different approach have been used? and, what restrictions/limitations/priorities could have led to the final creative decisions?  To me, information on a creator’s circumstances provide context for narrative analysis.  Since I generally don’t know them I try not to postulate their actual intent too much, only the potential intent suggested by the story.

SO WHAT THE HECK WAS I DOING WITH YJ, THEN? What happened with Young Justice is actually an outlier for me in both regards because of how baffling flawed the series ended up being.  Back in the pre-revival days I paid a lot of attention to the textual canon of Season 1 because I had started writing a fanfic based on it and wanted to do the story justice (heh).  The result was I went into the later seasons with a lot more awareness of the canonical details and storytelling techniques – and (like I said in the final Invasion case-study) I ended up being blindsided by how instinctively bored and annoyed I became just a short way into an attempted Season 2 rewatch, despite the fact that I was actively trying to study it. 

The reason I kept coming back with more and more posts is that I never felt like I had successfully grasped or articulated why I had such a strong and unexpected negative reaction.  I think it’s a similar impulse to what Dan Olson cited as making the Nostalgia Critic’s Parody of The Wall so weirdly compelling: there's a confusing contradiction between the level of work required to implement the sheer amount of stuff that Young Justice tries to include, and the absolute thoughtlessness of how sloppily that stuff was actually executed. A multi-season, multimedia story like Young Justice is a long-term project: there are too many layers of production involved for the end result to be made in a brief flash of impulse or accident. It needs some sort of sustained creative motivation to drive it… but I could never find a coherent creative intent that would satisfyingly explain the decisions on display.  Never before or since have I seen such a promising launch be followed by sequels so fatally flawed as to strip away every component of the original’s creative identity.  There’s a reason I subtitled that masterpost A Massive Failure of Narrative.

This is also why I went after lead-showrunner Greg Weisman a bit, despite not usually doing that.  The choice to exclude (or consciously excise) over 70% of the critical narrative substance and sequester it away in non-textual social-media /ask-blog retcons means that you cannot escape engaging with Weisman when trying to engage with the later seasons at any level of depth.  As a Death of the Author proponent this ticked me off just on-its-face, but it also meant that he and those seasons are inseparably intertwined.  Regardless of whether it was a conscious choice arising from his sense of creative entitlement, or simply a case of narrative incompetence self-selecting for a primary audience with a high tolerance for media-illiteracy Nigerian Prince Email Scam-style, the end-result is the same: Weisman gouged holes his narrative and left it to suffocate while he sucked up all the oxygen in the room.   Then, later, as I encountered people from other fandoms whose narratives had been similarly decimated by Weisman, it became impossible to ignore how inseparable his personal flaws are from those narrative failures.  As I alluded to in the last ask, you can separate the original seven Harry Potter texts from their author: Joanne Rowling and her politics could evaporate tomorrow and it wouldn’t change people’s ability to enjoy the story as a standalone work (in fact, the absence of her modern politics might make some of the more unpalatable flaws easier to accept as honest oversights rather than ominous foreshadowing).  Meanwhile, Young Justice is such a disaster because the later seasons stop being about the original story and increasingly become about Greg: his failures at basic storytelling, his disinterested misunderstanding of his own characters, his weird fixations, his patterns of reactionary prejudice, casual double-standards, deeply disturbing attitudes about consent and power, and a self-righteous entitlement that resents being held accountable.  Unlike Harry Potter, you can’t put Young Justice S2+ in a bubble. The problem at the root of every other problem with Young Justice is that it doesn’t have an actual narrative... and in the absence of a coherent central narrative, the text itself has become the story of Greg Weisman's terrible creative choices. His self-indulgent proclivities pervade every step of the later seasons' broken theming, bad pacing, warped characterisation, contradictory lore, intra-textual hypocrisies, over-stuffed cast and weird fanservice: baked-in at a level that cannot be ignored or rationalised away.

It makes me empathise a lot with how Hbomberguy said he felt on discovering the recent James Somerton stuff: it’s not fun to stumble down a rabbit hole of learning that a prominent figure in one of your communities is sucking up air via association with work from their less-credited colleagues, then using that air to present themselves as an ally, dominate the narrative and delegitimise valid criticism, all while spreading their own prejudiced agendas, refusing to change their behaviour and continuing to profit.  That’s why I felt the need to explicitly point out some of the clearer patterns of reactionary bigotry and hypocritical non-apologies in Weisman’s work – I wanted to make sure the evidence was at least available somewhere outside of Weisman’s carefully-filtered reputation-protecting PR statements.  People put pieces of their lives into communicating something that will hopefully be worth the pieces of life their audiences invest in return -  I find the idea of someone exploiting that trust for gain to be deeply disgusting.

Now, with that exceptionally-overlong context provided: Paul Dini. 

The disappointing but predictable answer is that I don’t really have an opinion on him as a writer.  Having looked up his credits, I recognise a lot of works that I personally enjoyed (including the cancelled-after-one-season Tower Prep).

I really like Batman: The Animated Series, both for the human element it brought to heroism and the tone it set for the following DCAU (colloquially Timm-verse) generation of animated series.  Justice League was one of my first introductions to the main DC roster, so that set a lot of my core understanding of their characters.  I find Harley Quinn, especially her early B:TAS/ DCAU story-iterations, to be compelling in a way that’s equal parts fun and tragic.  There are some parts of the DCAU that I find a bit silly (a couple of background ‘ships that make me go whaa?) but I think I was really lucky to grow up during a time when the DCAU and second-order series inspired by its tone and storytelling ethos (e.g. Teen Titans 2003) was the childhood DC experience for kids my age.

That said, I don’t know enough about the story behind the works in Dini’s credits to feel confident in speaking about him as a writer.  Just looking at his resume, he certainly seems like a passionate and prolific creator who did a lot of very influential work.  At the same time, however, I don’t know how much of that was Dini himself, how much was his frequent co-creator, Bruce Timm, and how much his works may have been adulterated by the influence of other, less-visible members of the production and editorial teams who worked alongside him.  It can be convenient to elevate one or two prominent members to Great Man status as an easy shorthand for discussing works they’ve been involved with, but that can come with the risk of crediting or platforming the wrong people through mis-attribution or just plain projection. 

I’ve learned my lesson on blind-lionisation after being thoroughly let down by all the Weisman nonsense, the same way others have learned from being let down by creators they previously idolised (Supergeekmike did a really good video covering this which also includes discussions of Death of the Author and Authorial Intent).  Without doing proper research into and comparisons of Dini’s work, I wouldn’t feel confident making an assertion about his personal skills as a creator.  I greatly enjoy many of the stories he’s been credited on, and can recognise the influence those stories had in shaping a generation of DC fans (and writers)… but while I’m happy to talk about the writing of those stories, it feels a little irresponsible of me to talk to the character or intent of a real person without knowing more about them.  I’m not making that mistake again.

In the meantime though, I do want to talk more about actual writing.  I’ve been taking it easier this year lockdown and job burnouts finally caught up to me and it suuucks, man but I'm hoping to pick back up in 2024.  I want to finally get back to working on my main fanfic so I can share the companion meta without spoiling people.  I have thoughts about some possible meta-textual metaphors in Across the Spider-verse.  I might do a case-study piece exploring why the years-long timeskip in Arcane Season 1 worked really well while others haven’t.  And there’s an ask about a canon-divergent-post-Season-1 Young Justice episode premise that’s been burning a hole in my inbox for at least 5 months now.

So yeah.  More writing breakdowns to come.  In the meantime, I previously wrote a Frustrations With analysis of how My Hero Academia’s story struggled following the Hideout Raid Arc if you’d like to check that one out.  There’s also this big compilation of links to my Young Justice and Danny Phantom meta (plus recommendations for fanfics and other stories), and you can check out the writing advice tag for general storytelling discussions.

Hopefully that makes up for the drought of Teen Titans content!

[chaotic-plotter]

tagged by @wastrelwoods to post a WIP list! some are posted WIPs and some are still being drafted (sneak peeks, ooooh), but if you want to know more about any of them, just ask!

the rest would have you six feet deep | the second part of my first post-fall fic, where will and hannibal are laying low in canada and trying to deal with the fact that they kissed (posted to ao3)

the darkness of error | a hannigram "the luminous dead" au where a s1-equivalent will is sent down into a cave to win his freedom and hannibal is his handler. surely nothing can go wrong (posted to ao3)

the rest of these are unreleased but have some amount of words in them currently:

the echo of great spaces | a s1 au set roughly around eps 7 & 8 where will is a casual nudist on his property. hannibal finds out and is, as is his custom, very normal about it

this, too, is a gift | a timestamp for that, my dear, is love that gives a peek into where hannibal's head was at before/during/after the wound fisting

"unnamed unhinged-on-main secret project" | all i'll say about this one is that it's primarily about hannibal and abigail, and to a lesser degree hannibal and will. it's a well-known trope/au type.

i will be very sad if you use these titles before i do, so i'd ask very nicely that you do not.

also, i have lots of other ideas that i'm going to write, but i can't quite call them WIPs since they're just in the planning stage. these include some margot/alana stuff, alana & bedelia stuff, and perhaps a fic challenge or two.

and because idk, i've been gone from fic-land since january, the WIP that's currently ruining my life:

"the novel" | sapphic folk horror. creatures, curses, and a dubious treasure hunt in the same vein as "the old gods of appalachia" and "twin peaks"

as for tagging folks, if you haven't been tagged yet, consider yourself tagged. @chaparral-crown? @the-bees-patella? @dreamerinsilico? @shinelikethunder?

[churuai]

⤿back to directory

𝙂𝙐𝙄𝘿𝙀 𝙈𝘼𝘿𝙀 𝘽𝙔 @/𝙍𝙐𝙎𝙈𝙄𝙄. 𝘿𝙊 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝙀𝘼𝙇

NOTE; this was requested by a nonnie! i hope this helps in some way :')!

01 𖹭 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 — yeah ik this a post is abt getting more asks, BUT, this is a tutorial made by someone who didn't give a fuck about asks and only worried about releasing fics.

⤿𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝙆𝙉𝙊𝙒?

if you worry too much abt asks, you're going to get insecure about receiving none when you see someone get a large amount of asks every few days.

the best option is to leave reqs OPEN—and keep posting your fics, especially if you're new to tumblr (bc that's what i did). the more fics you post in the x reader tag, the more people will see your blog and check it out, the more people will send asks (as in REQUESTS, then you can gradually set the pace to chats).

⤿𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝙆𝙉𝙊𝙒?

02 𖹭 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐁���𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 — no, seriously, in my personal opinion, it makes me NOT want to talk to you if you beg for asks.

instead of going to the tags and flooding it with ask begging, you should keep to your little space/bubble. ofc, asking for reqs in particular is a different story, but if you want casual chatter in the form of suggestions/thirsts/brain riots—then it's better if you let them come to you naturally. do not try to force it, it'll come one day. just keep posting fics.

03 𖹭 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 — do this 100%, even if you have social anxiety and is shy like me. or like, do it to your mutuals, yk??

⤿𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝙆𝙉𝙊𝙒?

the more you interact with blogs you like, the more likely they are to follow you/promo and shout out you lmaooo. it's all about BONDING and building friendships with the community you're catering your blog to be!

hell—you can even be on anon! if you interact with blogs on anon, and decide to start writing, there's like a high chance that the blog will promo you.

just know, that the type of blogs you're interacting with also determine what kind of asks you recieve if you're relying on them.

04 𖹭 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐘 — this is something that scares a lot of people away from sending asks! most people (myself included) are scared at the thought of weirding out the other person, which will cause us 1st hand embarrassment.

⤿𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝙆𝙉𝙊𝙒?

if you're a blog handling itself with grace, expect more calm asks. if you're a blog handling itself with unhingness (like me), expect the worst of the worst.

ABSOLUTELY. 100% MATCH THE OTHER PERSON'S ENERGY. if they're calm, you're calm (or excited I'm usually excited no matter what). if they're excited and spammy, you're excited and spammy! the more you match everyone's energy, the more people are WILLING to talk to you with much enthusiasm!

here's an example of primal bonding! (yes he sent this twice)

05 𖹭 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 — GOD. i swear, literally mostly everyone i see asking for asks aren't being casual about it.

⤿𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝙆𝙉𝙊𝙒?

instead of flooding the tags, you should post on your blog; "i kinda wanna write some [n]sfw stuff right now, send me some of your thoughts <3". and if no one sends an ask, you post something anyways (bc that's what i do).

just be subtle, instead of outright going, "PLEASSSEE SENNDD MEE ASSKKSS!!!!" it just drives some people away from your blog if you act desperate.

as i said, WAIT for them to come to you naturally—there will be at least like 2 people who'll stick with your blog to the bitter end.

here's an example of me!

06 𖹭 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐘𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍 — don't matter if u get 0 likes KEEP YAPPIN'.

⤿𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝙆𝙉𝙊𝙒?

people like to see people be unhinged on their dash sometimes—so go ahead and post every 2 seconds about your day (that's what i used to do), and like—keep yapping.

how you yap is how people perceive you, SO, be careful abt what you post!!! (i don't im just completely unhinged and so many of you guys like that for some reason).

if people like how u act, expect the ask to come in sooner or later <3

[generalfandomsofthefreak]

okay so (downs 2 shots of water because i don’t feel like actually drinking, but this is gonna have the unhinged energy of a drunk guy talking about conspiracy theories so it fits)

I read a post a few days ago, maybe more, about how a person in the bnha tag didn’t understand why people like Toga or why she’s redeemable, because of her fascination with blood and like of seeing people beat up

under a read more because it’s probably gonna be long and unhinged but

HERE WE GO

okay so, the thing about quirks in My Hero Academia is that quirks have such an impact on people, that doesn’t get explored properly in the manga at all, either because Horikoshi forgot to, or the impact was developed as he made the story and didn’t have time to put it in.

that doesn’t matter here, what matters is that i have feelings about this and you’re gonna read about them if you clicked the Keep reading

okay so, again Quirks aren’t like normal super powers in most comics, where people will either get them and be born with them and it’s kinda just like, an extra fun tidbit about them (from what i have experienced as an avid DC and X-Men reader)

Quirks have a fundemental say in how certain people act out their life and how they have to live if they wanna use their quirk or not. Some have it more than others, like Denki doesn’t have to live a much different life than people in real life, but then there are those like Shoji or Ojiro who are basically living with giant handicaps that change how they go about daily life to the smallest point of just getting new clothes.

it’s not touched on in the show a lot, I can think of 2 story points where the effect of quirks on someone’s life and entire being comes into play, and the first part is very briefly during the School Festival, when Jiro is self concious about her hobby, music, not helping with her quirk or hero work, unlike Sato who’s baking hobby allows him to experiment with a Sugar intake, or Ashido who’s dancing could help her fling her acid around more (in this case Sato’s example is much more what we’re going for, so let’s keep that one in mind)

This means, that if Sato wants to be a hero or wants to use his quirk for anything at all in the world, he has to eat sugar, he can’t use his super strength without it, so he has to eat sugar, and if he ever stops he can’t use his quirk.

In a similar vein, in relation to quirks affecting life, Bakugo probably sweats more than the average person, like a lot with the amount of Explosions he does during the show, he has to sweat BULLETS just on a normal day, we even see it once in a flashback with a giant sweatdrop like most people get after long intense workouts get, just casually dropping off his hand as a child Bakugo has to sweat more to use his quirk, so he must have bigger and more productive sweat glands

The second time, is during the League of Villains fight against the Meta Liberation army, when Toga is fighting Curious, Curious brings up how her fascination with blood is just part of her quirk, and a part of her that she cannot change

Toga is fascinated with blood, because Blood and the consumption of blood is written in her DNA because of her quirk. It is as essential to her life as sugar consumption is to Sato, AND IT SHOULD BE JUST AS NORMAL

The reason it’s not is because it’s blood, and society in BNHA has evolved biases against what is seen as “villanous quirks”, like Toga’s and Shinso’s.

her general mentality and unstableness comes from the entire world telling her she has to ignore that, she has to hide it away and act “normal” or she’s weird, othered and a Demon. Her own parents called her demonic and a deviant because she liked blood, instead of trying to find out why and finding a way for her to express that in a good way.

Toga is basically an autistic child who’s very sensitive, who’s been forced to mask her whole life or she’ll be called a demon for things she literally cannot control, because it is written into the fucking core of her being.

And that’s what i have to say about that, and I fucking love Toga

[therenlover]

Gimme Swayze (Part 4.5 of Till Forever Falls Apart, A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Synopsis: Now that the issue of Y/N leaving is out of the way, and Peter has finally kissed her, he falls into the motions of learning how to love someone for the first time. It’s easier than he thought it would be.

Tags: Fluff, Dancing, Gratuitous Dirty Dancing References, Love Confessions, Insecure!Reader, Minor Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild Language

Word Count: 2600~

This has been cross posted as the first chapter of the fic Cry To Me on my Ao3!

--------

“Dance with me, Peter?”

Y/N stood in the middle of the floor holding her hand out to him, hair mussed and wild with cheeks still streaked from tears shed earlier in the night. There, in the lamplight, she looked ethereal. Peter could imagine her as she was then in some grand Viennese ballroom. Every man, woman, and child would want to be seen on her arm, fully disregarding her casual clothes and the unhinged fire in her eyes, but she was choosing him. Something in his heart told him she always would.

With a smile and a groan, he pushed up off the creaky old plush couch and stretched his arms. “Are you gonna put on some music or are we gonna have to make our own?”

Peter didn’t miss the way Y/N’s breath hitched as she rushed over to the record player near the window. Her fingers skimmed over the knee-high stack of records at the base of the machine, searching through for something specific. After a moment she let out a small victorious noise. She pulled out the item she was looking for, a plastic-wrapped vinyl sheath, before holding it out towards Peter with a grin. Outside, the rain had slowed to a gentle pitter-patter on the concrete.

The paper cover was plain white, but it had a large title scrawled across the front in black magic marker: Y/N’s Ultimate Romance Mixtape.

“You put a mixtape… on a record? How much did this thing cost you?” Peter asked, walking to Y/N’s side to give the vinyl a closer look.

“Not just any mixtape,” she groaned, motioning for him to flip it over, “Our mixtape!” There on the back of the record, just as she promised, was a tracklist. Upon first viewing, by any average person, it would look pretty normal. To Peter, though, it was like looking down at a list of the top hits of his life. Time In A Bottle, Strange Magic, Born to Run, Sweet Dreams ...

“How did you-”

“I just started finding the songs I saw you listening to more than once, one day,” Y/N replied. She was staring at the floor again, wringing her hands. Was she… embarrassed? “I know it’s kinda weird and creepy… okay, it’s really weird and creepy, but I didn’t have anything else to do. It was just me in the Paris apartment back then and I still technically wasn’t a real person in the eyes of the government so I couldn’t work. What I’m trying to say is it was a nice way to pass the time, waiting for the newest song on the list to release, sitting patiently in the record shops hoping to hear a snippet of a melody I heard you humming along to in a vision...”

As she spoke, Y/N’s eyes seemed to glaze over. By the time her stream of consciousness had turned into less of a pour and more of a drip she looked halfway caught between the world and a dream. Peter could only imagine that when you’d lived as long as she had sometimes the past could seem like a dream. He’d been around for about 31 years, 67 if you included the years he lost between dimensions, and even he found himself looking back on parts of his childhood as if they were someone else’s. What would it be like in 10 more years? 20? 30? 100 didn’t even seem plausible.

Peter was only snapped from his internal monologue when Y/N snatched the record out of his hands and held it to her chest protectively. Her dreamy look was gone, replaced with one much more defensive.

“What?”

“If you’re just gonna gawk at it, I’m not gonna show you,” she said, carefully setting the record down on top of the closed player before turning her attention back to Peter, “I know it’s a little odd-”

“It’s cute!” Peter was quick to respond. He held up his hands, giving a small gesture of goodwill, before moving in to wrap her in his arms. She accepted, however stiffly. “Really, babe, it’s cute! I promise,”

With what seemed like a great amount of effort, Y/N relaxed into his touch. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just a little nervous… I’ve never done this before,”

“Oh, come on,” Peter’s mouth was almost against her skin now. His hot breath tickled the sensitive curve of her ear as he rocked their bodies back and forth on the balls of his feet, half calming and half comedic. “You don’t have to be nervous, Y/N. It’s just me,”

“That’s the problem!” Y/N was floundering in earnest now, her little heart pounding hard enough that Peter could feel it against his own chest. “With other guys it was easy! I knew they weren’t the end goal, and I knew… well, I thought they’d die long before you ever came into the picture, but now you’re here, and you’re you, and I’m so fucking terrified of messing everything up,”

Peter moved his hands to loosely grip her arms, rubbing calming circles into her flesh. “Babe, newsflash, I really like you. Like, stupidly like you. Head-over-heels type shit,” he paused to laugh, “and hey, I’m not the one who sees the future or anything, but I don’t see this going bad anytime soon. So take a deep breath, put on our mixtape, and just… let go,”

Y/N let her eyes find Peter’s, peering up through heavy lashes. “What if I fall?”

He kissed her softly on the forehead before he answered, “Baby, I have super speed. You can’t fall faster than I can catch you,”

The softest of smiles graced Y/N’s face before she pulled away, turning back to the record player and grabbing the record off the top as she opened it. She paused for a second, pensive, and Peter thought he might have to bolster her again before she turned back to him.

“Side A or Side B?”

Peter shrugged. “Whatever side you like the most,”

“Side B it is…” she smirked as she set the record on the table and got it spinning, dropping the needle gently onto the edge of the vinyl with a practiced hand, “That’s my side,” Under the sounds of the gentle rain and the city, the opening notes to a song halfway familiar began to ring out through the old bones of the apartment. The ancient wood seemed to creak its own melody under Y/N’s feet while she started to sway. Peter tried to follow along as best he could.

“I hope you know I can’t dance,” He mumbled, swinging his hips to and fro as Y/N giggled at him.

“Oh, I know,”

“Then why did you ask me to?”

“Just because you’re bad at dancing doesn’t mean I don’t wanna dance with you,”

“That’s so cheeeeesy, Y/N!”

She threw her head back as she shimmed into Peter’s arms across the floor. “And you love it,”

When she was finally in his arms again, they swayed loosely to the tune. There was no real rhythm to it, all clumsy feet and breathless laughter as they bumped their way through Y/N’s greatest hits, but it came from the heart. There were no doomsday clocks ticking in the background, no expectations of what to was to come. It was just the music around them and the rain in the street and the jerky unnatural movements of Peter Maximoff doing his best to internalize the beat as The Mamas and the Papas slowly drifted into Solomon Burke. Y/N hummed thoughtfully, pulling away from Peter’s arms as it began, bringing her arms up above her head as she shook her hips. Peter just groaned.

“You actually put the song from Dirty Dancing on the mixtape?”

Y/N didn’t respond, instead bopping her head along with the beat.

“I can’t believe it. You’re not even gonna answer me,”

She gave a wink and continued on.

“Really? The silent treatment?”

“I’m not saying another word until you embrace the Swayze, Peter,”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep inhale, and then stared daggers into Y/N’s eyes as he shrugged his shoulders. “You want Swayze, baby? You really want Swayze?”

“Oh, I wanna see some Swayze, Peter,”

“How’s this for Swayze?”

With a burst of superhuman speed, Peter raced across the floor, snatched Y/N up by her midriff, and lifted her above his head, delighting in her giggles and shrieks while he spun her. He may not have been the best dancer or the best mover, but Peter was good at a few things; things like utilizing his surprising strength and speed.

He kept Y/N aloft for a moment before gently returning her to the floor. There she stood, slightly dazed, as she got her bearings back, gripping the sleeve of Peter’s t-shirt for balance. To put it simply she was a giggling mess.

Peter loved watching her like this, carefree and loose, unbound from the tethers of trauma and time for a few brief moments. It made his heart soar higher to know that he made her like this. He was the one who threatened to toss her in with the seals at Central Park, which made her laugh so hard she almost yakked up her hotdog. It was him who sat with her on the couch throwing popcorn at the fuzzy TV screen whenever she suddenly froze up at the sound of a scream, distracting her enough that she could enjoy the movie till the end. His hands were the ones she grabbed whenever she saw a cute dog on the street and wanted to get close fast enough to pet it. He was a part of her joy, a minuscule blip on her radar making waves in her life for the better. Peter didn’t know if there was anything else he wanted to be in life that could mean more than that.

When Y/N finally got her giggles under control, she looked up at him with wet eyes and whispered. “That was pretty Swayze, babe,”

The second it left her lips she was in stitches again, her knees buckling as she collapsed to the floor, whole body wracked with her laughter. Peter joined her this time, settling himself down by her side and allowing the hysteria to wash over him like a pleasant wave. Once all was said and done, he and Y/N laid shoulder to shoulder on the antique sitting-room rug, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes and soft smiles. The record, all spun out, sat forgotten on the turntable.

“I know I’ve told you this already,” Y/N said, eyes glued to the rotating fan above her, “but I love you, Peter. I love you and I love who I am when I’m with you. You don’t have to say it back, I mean, I know this has all been ridiculously fast, but… I dunno. Even without the whole fated to cross paths thing, I think I’d love you now anyways, you know?” She bit her bottom lip, groaning, “Sorry, sorry, I know things are moving way too quick-”

Peter shushed her gently, rolling onto his side to look her in the eye. “Babe, you’re talking to the fastest man alive. Quick is literally in my name. Don’t worry about it,”

“Yeah. I guess it is, huh?”

“And for the record,” he took a deep breath, steeling himself, “I love you too, Y/N. I have for a while now. It has to have been since… well all the way back when Dr. Strange had me tied up at your work. I was so sure that I had screwed everything up with you, that you were gonna let him drag me to superhero prison and wash your hands of me, but you didn’t. You came in there guns blazing, even when you knew I had fucked up big time and accidentally tried to steal some real spooky shit, and from that second on I never once felt like you would ever be willing to get rid of me just because I’m annoying,”

She nudged him with her shoulder. Not hard, just enough to jostle him. “You’re not annoying,”

“Have you met me? Annoying is literally my middle name,”

“No,” Y/N’s voice got soft, “No, your middle name is Django. Your favorite color is blue, but specifically bright teal-ish blue like the blue moon ice cream your mom used to buy you on vacation back when you were a little kid. You can’t dance but you have surprisingly good rhythm, and even if you’re not proud of your voice you should be because if you weren’t the world’s fastest man you could be touring as a singer with your guitar. You always sleep on the right side of the bed, your favorite season is the weird limbo between summer and fall, you can’t stand the James Bond movies, and if anybody asked you’d say your favorite food is Twinkies but it’s not. Your favorite food is pierogies, specifically the cheese and potato kind from Nana Dudek’s in Polish town because they remind you of your Nana the few times you remember going to see her. All of that is true, and so is the fact that you love me,”

She went quiet, eyes watching the blades of the ceiling fan in their lazy rotations. Slowly, she reached out her hand, interlocking her pinkie with Peter’s own without even having to look down and find it.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that,” Peter whispered.

Y/N let a huff of air out of her nose, a silent laugh at a joke only she knew.

“You’re not supposed to say anything. I just wanted you to know,”

“Know what?”

“Know that even if you can never build up the courage to tell me you love me again, I’ll be just fine, because I know, and you know, and that’s all that matters,”

Something in Peter’s heart, however small, shattered at just how vulnerable Y/N sounded.

Both of them were jaded in their own ways. They had seen bloodshed and torment and the roots of human suffering. It wasn’t always as simple as saying ‘I love you’. Sometimes the world left you a broken pulp with little faith and saying three little magic words just wasn’t possible. There’s no place for love in the heart of a person at war, nor is there any guarantee that they’ll ever be able to express that forbidden weakness again. It’s a commodity, like hope, that came in rare supply to people like Peter and Y/N. That being said, in the safety and warmth of the sitting room with the cozy couch and the antique rug and the ceiling fan and the record player, neither of them were at war, and Peter would be a damn fool if he didn’t take advantage of that.

He rolled onto his side once again, waiting there in silence until Y/N rolled onto her side to greet him, and then, with all of the feelings he had hidden in his heart since the moment he ran at top speed for the first time he kissed her.

Without hesitation, she kissed him back.

-------

a/n: Sorry this took so long to get out! It’s short, but I wanted it to be long enough to be it’s own mini chapter, so our minor friends can enjoy the sweetness without having to lose any of the story in the spicy bit. That being said, the spicy bit comes next lol. My shift bar is being fussy, and I need to sleep, so I’m signing off for the night, but thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, let me know!

Please do not post my work to any other sites, thank you ! <3

[phantom-curve]

find the strength, find the melody pt. 6

okay so I wasn’t originally going to include the entire scene in Lessa’s office but, once again, my words ran away from me. now you get this beast of a chapter. it’s the longest one yet, coming in at a whopping 4,383 words so think of it as an apology for letting my other fic take over for a sec and also taking like a million years to post this.

I started working on Luke’s POV because I am nothing if not a fan of jumping the gun, and his writing style is so different and living in his head is such an adorable journey of Julie Molina obsession. really excited for you to see some of the stuff that’s been going on for our sweet lil soft boy. also, if you notice the dialogue style changing a little bit in this/future chapters it’s so I can have the same scenes without a ton of repeated dialogue in Luke’s POV.

writer’s block anecdote of the day: I keep flipping Luke and Alex’s name in Luke’s POV because one of the main OCs in my novel is actually named Alex and has been since I started working on this novel a literal decade ago. oh and there is also an OC named Owen. someday I’ll learn to give my characters unique names, but not today!

taglist: @blue-hat-girl, @lwhoscribbles, @bluefyoto94, @5sosmukefan, @moonlightxnder, @leahthewonder​, @kat-maybe-not​, @lukewearingbeanies, @imastrugglingartist​​

Once they were close enough to risk running into other students, Julie dropped Luke’s hand. She made a point of ignoring the frown he gave her, using her now free hand to reach up and adjust her hat. Only, her hat wasn’t there. Her hands landed on loose, untamed curls instead and she immediately turned to Luke with a small amount of panic already building in her chest. He gave her a funny look, and then seemed to notice her hair and somehow understood completely. His hands reached up to lower hers. He let his grasp linger for just a moment before letting go, leaving her hands to dangle limply at her sides. Only his gaze held her in place.

“I never really liked that hat. Your hair is too pretty to cover up like that.”

He said it like a fact. The sky is blue, the sun is hot, your hair is too pretty to cover up. Julie felt a swell of emotions rise again, threatening to overwhelm her. But then he was off towards the front of the school throwing a very casual, “You coming?” over his shoulder at her. She raced to catch up, emotions beaten back for the time being.

They joined the surge of bodies filtering through the front doors. Alex and Reggie stood off to the side inside the entryway of the school. It was impossible to miss the tall blonde in his light pink sweatshirt standing next to the shorter boy in leather. Luke didn’t hesitate to weave his way over to them, but Julie hung back. She wasn’t really sure what was going on between them, wasn’t sure if she felt comfortable enough to just tag along behind him. She caught sight of Flynn’s hot pink beanie bouncing in the distance and let out a sigh of relief. She could separate from Luke here, talk to Flynn, get some perspective on this whole situation.

Luke glanced back at her then. She saw the question in his eyes, felt her heart race when he gave a little side nod like he was inviting her to join him. She swallowed and gave him a half-hearted smile before jerking her thumb over her shoulder in Flynn’s direction. He frowned, but she was already turning away. She pretended she didn’t hear him call her name, slipping into the crowd of students, letting it swallow her up so she could disappear from his sight. Eyes locked on Flynn’s back she moved farther away from the Sunset Curve boys. Flynn only jumped a little when Julie snuck up behind her.

“Jesus, Jules! You scared the shit out of me!”

Her best friend’s familiar voice washed over her like a comforting blanket. All at once, Julie was word vomiting the entire night.

“Flynn, oh my God. He had Mom’s song and he saved it for like, a whole year, and then he gave it to me yesterday, and holy shit I forgot how beautiful it is. And you’re not gonna believe this but I played, like I actually played the piano and sang, and it was like homecoming, it was like the biggest rush, like my mom was right there in the studio with me. And then, oh my god, now you’re really not gonna believe this, but oh my god, then Luke freaking Patterson showed up out of nowhere and he uh might have stayed on the pull-out couch, and then he uhm he made me breakfast this morning? And we walked here together?? He was like...doing this thing where his eyes were going all starry and soft and he was saying really sweet things and it was...a lot and I really don’t know what’s going on with that but uhm I’m kinda freaking out. Also, hey good morning, how are you?”

If Flynn’s mouth opened any wider Julie thought she might unhinge her jaw. In a sea of bustling students, it felt like they were in a bubble all their own. She anxiously fiddled with the bracelets on her wrists as she watched the gears turn behind her best friend’s eyes. After a full two minutes of silence, Flynn’s hand flew out to latch onto Julie’s bicep. Without a word she dragged her down the hallway and into an empty practice room. Flynn released her grip, Julie rubbing at her arm, jeez Flynn was strong!, while the other girl closed the door and flipped on the light that indicated the room was in use. She whirled around, her eyes drilling into Julie’s.

“You’re gonna start at the beginning of that whole mess of truth bombs and spill every last detail about exactly what happened with Luke ‘freaking’ Patterson. Right now. Starting with the bit about your mom’s song.”

Julie took a deep breath and slowly walked Flynn through the events of the last few days, from the moment she had run into Luke after her meeting with Ms. Harrison to when she ran away from him this morning as he was calling her name. Distantly, she was aware of the bell ringing, but it was only homeroom anyway. What did that matter when she was having an existential crisis? Flynn’s mouth only hung open a little bit by the time she was finished telling the story again. Julie felt her shoulders slump. What an emotional rollercoaster. Flynn was quiet for a long moment. Then, she smirked at Julie with a knowing look in her eyes.

“Hmph. Looks like my girl’s got a crush, and his name is Luke. I cannot believe you’ve been holding out on me like this!”

She was teasing, her tone light with a little bit of a mocking sing-song quality to it. But Julie could hear the undercurrent of worry running through her words. She had become quite adept at detecting that particular vocal quality in the last year. She sighed.

“Whatever. Can we focus on the more important revelation that I played the piano and sang again?”

Flynn, best friend that she was, gracefully allowed the subject change.

“Jules, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you! How did you feel? Alive again?”

Julie laughed, the sound feeling easy and light as it left her chest.

“Yeah, actually, that’s exactly how I felt. It was...honestly, it felt magical. It really did feel like my mom was there with me. There was this sense of peace that just felt...”

She shivered, remembering the sensation of ghostly arms around her shoulders.

“I can’t really describe it. But it was like something just clicked, and I realized that the best way to remember my mom and honor her is through music. The music we made together and the music I’ll make in the future. Rose Molina’s musical legacy will live on in me, and that feels pretty special.”

She couldn’t keep the smile from her face or the happiness from her voice. Peace really had been found out in that studio last night. Julie felt more ready than ever to move out of the darkness she’d kept wrapped around her like a shield for the last year.

“That’s beautiful.”

Flynn pulled Julie into her arms, the two girls sharing a long hug. The bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom, before either girl could say anything more. They left the practice room together, splitting up when they reached their respective classroom doors. Julie swallowed thickly as she settled herself in the back of her Calc class. This was one of the classes she shared with Luke, although she had conveniently forgotten that fact until the moment she sat down at her desk. He appeared in the doorway within seconds, giving her no chance to properly prepare herself. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he started to make a beeline for the desk next to hers before their teacher caught him.

“Patterson! You know the deal.”

Not even Luke’s best pout could win over Ms. May. She simply raised a brow and pointed at the seat he had been assigned at the front of the classroom. Julie let out a small sigh of relief. It was hard not to smile at Luke’s dramatics as he slumped over and slowly shuffled his way to his desk. He dropped into his seat with a loud huff, glancing over his shoulder at Julie with forlorn expression. She rolled her eyes, smothering her smirk behind her hand. The bell rang again, and he turned his attention to the front of the room as Ms. May called the class to order.

He didn’t stop sneaking looks back at her the entire class period though. It made her want to squirm in her seat every time she dared peek at him and caught him watching her in return. He would always give her one of those soft, sweet smiles and then turn back to his work. It was unsettling, especially when she thought of how he hadn’t paid much attention to her in this particular class before today. Although, now that she really thought about it, maybe he had. Julie had basically been living in a fog of grief for the last year. The school could have caught on fire and she probably wouldn’t have noticed it until her clothes were burning.

She was almost grateful when one of the front desk aides appeared in the door to their classroom. Kayla made direct eye contact with her before knocking on the door frame to get Ms. May’s attention.

“Julie Molina is needed in the office.”

A tense silence fell over the classroom. Every single student remembered the last time Julie had been called down to the office in the middle of a class. Even Ms. May’s eyes flickered with pity for a moment before she gave Julie a gentle smile and nod. Julie stood slowly, forcing herself to keep her breath even as she gathered her books and papers into her backpack. 22 pairs of eyes watched her slowly make her way to the front of the room. One pair burned hotter than the others. Julie met Luke’s eyes for the smallest fraction of a second. Just long enough to see the concern rise up in them. Then she was out the door, walking the uncomfortably familiar path to the front office.

“It’s Lessa. And I think your dad.”

Kayla’s quiet voice startled her. She looked to her left, surprised to find the other girl keeping pace with her. Julie had thought she would walk ahead or peel off to deliver other messages. Instead, she got a small but genuine smile.

“Look, I know things are weird because of the Carrie thing, but I just didn’t want you to freak out too much. Frankly, I think Lessa’s kinda a bitch to pull you out of class like that. She’s an idiot if she doesn’t remember...well anyway. It’s something school related, not like a family thing.”

Kayla briefly squeezed her bicep, almost like she wished she could give Julie a hug. Then she was off down a separate hallway, waving the stack of messages in her hand at Julie as a goodbye. Julie watched her go for a second, feeling off balance and surprisingly emotional. Kayla was a Dirty Candy girl. In the battle lines that had been drawn between Julie and Carrie, Kayla’s position was as obvious as Flynn’s. For all intents and purposes, she shouldn’t be looking out for Julie, and yet, she was anyway. Julie wondered how many small protective moments she had missed from her classmates in the last year. Maybe she hadn’t been quite as alone as she had always felt. She took a deep breath and finished the walk to the front office, a little more ready to face what was on the other side.

Knowing it was school related and that her dad had been called down sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine for a different reason. It had to be something about the music program. Not for the first time, Julie regretted keeping it from her dad for this long. She was out of time now. At least she could thank the universe for small favors. If it had been her Tía in this meeting, Julie’s life would be over. Her dad was more understanding. They would be able to get through this. Julie forced herself to square her shoulders and enter the office with more confidence than she felt. Her mom’s words echoed in her mind you can do it. It was all the strength she needed.

At least until the door to Principal Lessa’s office was closing behind her, and she was face-to-face with her heartbroken father.

“Julie. Take a seat, please.”

Lessa’s voice lacked its usual bite. She just sounded tired. Julie felt that down to her bones. She slipped into the seat next to her dad without a word.

“I’m going to get right to the point. Two of us,” her eyes narrowed slightly on Julie who shifted in her seat in response, “knew this meeting was coming. The other one of us has now been informed as to why it was called.”

The weight of her father’s stare was crushing her. Julie didn’t have to look to see the disappointment there. It was rolling off of him in tsunami sized waves. Lessa continued talking despite the uncomfortable tension growing in the air.

“Now. We have several options. As you both know, Los Feliz is at its core an arts academy. We ask that our students participate in at least one of the arts programs. Participate being the key word there. Julie, it’s clear that participation in our music department isn’t something you’re able to do right now. While we were able to offer you a grace period, we have other students applying for the position you aren’t using. It’s only fair to allow them the chance to participate if you won’t.”

Julie was not going to cry. Not here in front of Principal Lessa and her dad, trapped on school grounds where everyone would see her when she left. She bit the inside of her cheek as hard as she could, letting Lessa’s soft but firm voice wash over her without absorbing anything she was saying.  She caught bits and pieces: Lessa offering her a spot in the less desirable subset of illustration in the fine arts department with a chance to reapply for the music department the following semester, her dad requesting information about the new program as well as copies of her transcripts in case they decided to move schools, Lessa’s voice softening as she apologized, her dad’s growing even softer as he thanked her for everything the school had done so far. Then the meeting was wrapping up, and her dad was shaking Lessa’s hand, and Julie was focusing on her backpack so she could get the hell out of there. She barely caught the sad smile Lessa gave her as she said, “Good luck, Julie” in that same goodbye tone Ms. Harrison had used on Monday. Julie had never been so desperate for her old hat to hide behind as she was in that moment.

She shuffled along behind her dad. It was obvious the school day was over for Julie. He was quiet as they made their way out of the office and into the empty hallway. Class had been dismissed while they were with Lessa. Julie was thankful there weren’t any other students around to witness her downfall. Her dad almost made it out of the building before rounding on her. Almost.

“I cannot believe you tried to hide this from me! I thought I raised you better than that, mija. You’re lucky your Aunt had a work meeting she couldn’t miss. Why didn’t you come to me?”

It was the overwhelming disappointment in her dad’s tone that did Julie in. She had never been able to stomach letting her parents down. If Ray’s voice was any indication, she may have reached the rock bottom of let downs.

“I’m sorry.”

She was. She truly was. She didn’t know why she had kept it from her dad except that if she had told him then she would have had to admit it was real. She hadn’t wanted to face that reality just yet.

“I just don’t understand, Julie. You still like music, right? Is it the school? We can find a different music program. You don’t have to stay here just because your mom loved it so much.”

Julie opened her mouth to argue that actually that was exactly why she had to stay here, but a different voice cut her off. An annoyingly familiar voice that had her heart racing and her palms sweating.

“Julie!”

She nearly groaned aloud. Never before in her life had Julie wished to disappear as much as she did right now. Just open a hole in the floor and jump right into it. The absolute last thing she needed right now was Lucas freaking Patterson getting in the middle of this dressing down. Hell, she didn’t even want him witnessing it let alone trying to get involved. She clenched her jaw, ignored her dad’s pointedly raised eyebrow, and turned on her heel to meet the teenage boy that suddenly seemed to be haunting her every step.

“Luke. Hi.”

She kept her voice flat, the go away clear in her tone. His steps faltered for a second, but she could tell by the way his shoulders bounced that he wasn’t going to be so easily deterred. She had run away from him this morning and been saved multiple times in Calc. He wasn’t going to let her avoid him anymore. He approached her and her dad with all the cool confidence a 17-year-old boy in a band could muster. Her mouth almost fell open when he bypassed her completely to stick his hand out towards Ray.

“Luke Patterson. You must be Mr. Molina. It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

His smile was genuine and charming, his lyrical voice all too polite. Julie wanted to scream as she watched her dad fall for it. Could she not have one single embarrassing moment to herself anymore? Was she doomed to play out the moments she came off looking the worst in front of this cute boy for the rest of her life? Her dad’s eyes lit up as he shook Luke’s hand. Julie wished she could bash her head against something.

“Patterson? Mitch and Emily’s boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

Only Julie caught the way his smile tightened and his shoulders raised defensively at the mention of his parents.

“Wow, you’ve grown quite a bit since the last time I saw you! Good people, your parents.”

Julie rolled her eyes at the dad-ness of it all.

“I forgot you were in the music program with Julie...”

She couldn’t help but cringe as her dad’s words trailed off. That statement had been enough to remind him why he was here in the first place. He turned away from Luke to give her another heartbroken look. She hung her head to escape the censure behind his eyes.

“I am. Actually, that’s why I was trying to find Julie! She was late for rehearsal.”

Julie whipped her head up to glare at the boy still bobbing in front of them. He was trying to cover for her not knowing Lessa had blown that opportunity sky high not even 5 minutes ago. It was sweet in a misguided way, but it was also a painful reminder of all the things Luke had that she didn’t.

“He knows I got kicked out. You don’t have to lie for me.”

Her voice was sharp, and she was fully prepared for the kicked puppy look she was sure he would give her, but instead his smile only grew. His bouncing became impossibly springier, like gravity just didn’t apply to him. And then he winked, actually winked, at her.

“Awh, c’mon, Jules!”

His whine was just the right amount of playful, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Her heart did a weird flip in her chest.

“I know it was supposed to be a surprise, but the poor man is clearly suffering! We should let him in on our little secret.”

Julie’s glare intensified as she ignored the way the words our little secret hit the softest part of her heart. What the hell was he playing at? He winked again, something that should be outlawed given the way it made her stomach drop and knees weaken. Then he held up his hands in a half-hearted I give up gesture.

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to tell him about the plan to get you back into the music program if you don’t want to.”

If this were a cartoon, Julie was sure her eyes would have popped out of her skull completely at those words. As it were, she settled on doing everything she could to keep her jaw from dropping. She had absolutely no clue what he was going on about, but he clearly had some sort of agenda. There was a script to this encounter, she just hadn’t been given her lines. She saw her father shift out of the corner of her eye, arms raising to fold across his chest as he took in the scene unfolding between the two teenagers. Luke was still talking, apparently deciding to capitalize on Julie’s stunned silence.

“I just think it would be helpful if he knew about it. Then we wouldn’t have to sneak around so much. I know you wanted to have it be a big reveal, but we can still surprise your aunt!”

Her dad turned to her with a raised brow, confusion and the smallest seeds of hope growing behind his gaze.

“¿Mija?”

Julie wanted to punch a locker and also vomit. What the actual hell was Luke Patterson doing? She had no frame of reference for whatever game he was playing. No way of knowing if it was serious or some sort of prank. She looked away from her dad to meet Luke’s eyes. He gave her a small, pleading smile, silently begging her to trust him. His eyes became impossibly gentle and she saw that same boy from the studio last night and the kitchen this morning peeking out at her. Ultimately, it was that intimate reminder of his softer side that made her cave.

“It’s nothing, Papí. Just some hair-brained scheme Luke came up with.”

She raised her brow in a challenge, communicating with that one twitch that she wanted to see his endgame here. His face lit up like the 4th of July. She was sure if they had been alone he would have let out a victory whoop. He rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets, biceps flexing in his best cool kid impersonation.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Molina. We’re getting just as much out of this as you are.”

She didn’t have time to snap back that she wasn’t sure she was getting anything out of whatever ‘this’ was before he was plowing ahead.

“See, my band and I lost our fourth member earlier this year, and we have our Junior Showcase coming up, but man, it’s been a serious struggle to find our sound without Bobby, and we really gotta nail this Showcase. It’s like the one where managers scout out who they really wanna pay attention to as a senior, so we gotta be the best.”

Julie saw where he was going with this before he actually got there, but it was too late to stop him. That was what she got for playing along with his stupid game in the first place.

“And see, I finally figured out that what we really need is someone like Julie to elevate us to that level. Your daughter is a freaking wrecking ball of talent, Mr. Molina. It took a lot of begging, but she finally agreed to play with us. There’s no way Lessa won’t put her back in the music program after we play together.”

His grin was a mile wide, pride shining from his pores. He was 100% sure of this plan, she could see it in the way he looked at her. Absolute blind faith in her. It was as flattering as it was terrifying.

“I see.”

Her dad’s voice was shockingly contemplative. Like he was actually considering supporting this crazy idea. He looked at Luke thoughtfully.

“Do Principal Lessa and Ms. Harrison know about this plan?”

Luke’s hand raised for one quick nervous scratch at the back of his neck. He gave her dad his most charming smile.

“Sometimes you’ve gotta go into ambush mode. Swing that wrecking ball of talent and smash some rules, eh?”

If it were any other parent, that line would have probably been the worst possible thing to say. But this was Ray Molina, whose first date with Rose had involved a small amount of breaking and entering as well as a large amount of running from cop cars and stealing kisses while hiding in alleyways. Rose had never met a rule worth following, and it was part of the reason Ray had fallen in love with her in the first place. Luke had sealed the deal without even really trying. Julie was doomed.

“I like it.”

Ray’s smile was almost as large as Luke’s. It was scary how similar they looked right now, enthusiasm shining in their eyes with an intensity that was borderline maniacal. There would be no getting out of this now.

“Why don’t you boys come over to the house after school? You can practice in our studio.”

Julie didn’t even get a chance to open her mouth before Luke was agreeing. She watched him shake her dad’s hand once again, some weird kind of bonding look passing between the two of them. Her dad wrapped a tight arm around her shoulder, and then turned them both towards the front doors again. Julie cast one final look at Luke over her shoulder, heart skipping a beat as he bit his lip and gave her yet another wink.

“See ya later, boss!”

Had her dad not been holding her up, Julie would have melted right into a puddle of mush. Yup, she was totally and completely doomed.

[searchingwardrobes]

Of Earth and Sea: 6/9

My fic for the 2019 @cssns will drop this Friday, so to celebrate, I’m re-posting my fic from last year (and also because I was a tumblr newbie back then and didn’t post the chapters here, just the link to Ao3)

Gorgeous art by @shipsxahoy!

Summary: Five years after their wedding, Emma and Killian are ready to start a family. But Emma discovers that raising a family isn't that simple when your husband is a Dunedin (half-elf) and your mother-in-law is neither dead nor alive.

Rated T

Tagging: (please let me know if you wish to be added or removed from this list) @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @kday426 @jennjenn615 @mythologicalmango @xhookswenchx @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke

Chapter Five:

Night fell on Neverland, the only discernible difference between it and day being the piercing cries of Lost Boys. The fact that over half of Hook’s crew could hear them was a testament to what turned an innocent lad into a cutthroat pirate. Smee, Starkey, and a handful of others were the only ones who could sleep peacefully on the island. And as a whole, Killian’s crew preferred to anchor far enough away from shore to escape the haunting sounds. Actually sleeping on the island was something few of them were willing to volunteer for.

But on this particular night, it wasn’t an option. Pan had some sort of job for them again, and it required two things: close to a dozen men and readiness before dawn. So here they were, trying to get comfortable despite the constant weeping.

Killian had volunteered for first watch and sat against a tree, nursing his flask. He rubbed his forehead wearily, wishing desperately for a respite from the agonizing wails. When he dropped his hand, he thought he saw something moving amidst the trees. Hand at the hilt of his cutlass, he eased forward hesitantly. He almost started at the blinking green eyes that caught the moonlight. Then he saw the pale, pointed ears against red hair.

“Oh, it’s just you,” he muttered, leaning back against the tree and taking another swig of rum.

His mother stepped forward on silent feet. “I know these cries torture you, my son.”

He shrugged. “Course they do. Orphans understand other orphans.”

She blinked, obviously hurt, but he had long ago stopped caring. “I hear them too,” she said softly, ignoring his jab.

Killian furrowed his brow curiously. “How is that?”

“Elves have soft hearts towards children. We understand them.”

Killian scoffed as he tilted back his flask. He had heard stories of elves fostering orphans. Ironic.

“I see you got Dionysus’s flask back,” Tauriel commented.

He shrugged and lifted it high, making a show of admiring it. “What can I say? Your old boyfriend knows me well.”

Tauriel scowled openly. “Since you’re in a foul mood, I’ll leave you. There are hurting children who could use an elvish lullaby.”

Killian ignored her, relishing the burn of the rum as it went down. Soon the lullaby his mother had mentioned floated on the breeze, and one by one, cries were stilled. Yet the more peaceful the night became, the more Captain Hook drank.

*****************************************************

Killian didn’t know if it was the vast amounts of rum he had consumed the night before, or if it was the tall tales of his crew, but his head was bloody pounding.

“It’s a ghost, I tell you!” Smee insisted. “I saw her myself, floating through the trees.”

“And then the crying stopped!” another mate added.

“What of it?” another scoffed. “How do ya know it had to do with the ghost?”

“Because she sang,” Smee told them, “in a foreign tongue.” He turned to his Captain, “Did you hear her, sir?”

Killian clenched his jaw in irritation. “I’m much more interested in this mysterious job of Pan’s, Smee, so I’d ask that you not distract the crew.”

“Y-yes, sir, of course, sir,” Smee muttered, twisting his red cap in his hands before sticking it back on his head.

But that didn’t stop the whispers among the men. Whispers that a ghost haunted Neverland. The ghost of a mother whose child had died, they reasoned. The mother searched the island for her dead child, soothing the cries of the lost ones. Of course, some of the pirates took the story in a more sinister direction, blaming the ghost for luring Lost Boys and pirates alike into Mermaid’s Lagoon, Dark Hollow, or the Echo Caves.

By the time they arrived at the rendezvous point, Killian was ready to send his entire crew over the bloody plank. Dawn had not yet broken when Pan appeared on a pile of boulders above the pirates, flanked by his most trusted Lost Boys. Felix eyed Killian coldly, beating his twisted club repeatedly into his palm. Killian met his gaze with a cocky smirk and a small salute of his hook. He still prided himself on giving the little bastard that nasty scar down the side of his face. He’d deserved it and then some.

Hook then addressed Pan with equal sarcasm. “So what is the purpose of this odd little parley?”

“Funny you should call it that,” Pan answered, “for I have given your request some thought.”

Hook raised his eyebrows. “My request?”

“To leave this island.”

Killian attempted to school his features. It couldn’t be that easy; this must be one of Pan’s games. Pan jumped down from the boulders and drew closer with cold, calculating calm. He got right in Killian’s face, but the pirate refused to retreat a single millimeter.

“Do you hear that?” Pan asked him.

Killian shook his head and gave a short, dismissive laugh, “There’s nothing to hear, imp.”

“That’s exactly it,” Pan said, turning away from Killian to pace around him. He said nothing for a long moment, and Killian found it difficult not to roll his eyes. The little demon did have a way of drawing out the dramatics. Finally, he stopped pacing and looked Killian straight in the eye. “And you and I both know you can hear them. The cries of the Lost Boys?”

Killian swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as his men whispered behind him. He had never told them he couldn’t hear the weeping; he had merely avoided that topic of conversation. Clearly, his men had assumed their fearless leader was immune to that type of psychological torture.

Pan drew close. He leaned forward and whispered in Killian’s ear. “You’ve never wanted those who sail with you to know what you really are, Dunedin.”

“Let’s speak privately,” Killian hissed back.

“Fine,” Pan spat, “let’s.”

Hook shouted for his crew to return to the ship and ready it for departure. Pan likewise dismissed his companions. When it was just the pirate and the imp in the small clearing, Pan smirked and took a seat upon the rocks.

“I tried to kill her,” Pan informed him, as casually as one would discuss the weather, “alas, I can’t kill someone who isn’t really alive.”

Killian tried to stop the muscle in his jaw from jumping, but he couldn’t. As much anger and hurt that he felt towards his mother, as much as he fought with her, he loved her dearly. More perhaps even than he had loved Milah or even Liam. At least, it was a different sort of love. One with a bond he couldn’t sever, no matter how much he sometimes wanted to.

Pan laughed sadistically. “That bothers you!”

Killian narrowed his eyes. “Okay, I see what you want. My crew and I leave, and my mother is forced to go too. That way, your Lost Boys stay desperate and miserable, just the way you like them.”

“I’m not the only one who leads with fear, Captain Hook,” Pan sneered, “and if you think leaving is as simple as all that, then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

“Then what is your price?” Killian hissed through clenched teeth.

Pan lounged backwards against the rocks. “Oh . . . just Tiger Lily’s hiding place.”

His eyes widened. “What do you want with her?” The fairies on this island – Tiger Lily and Tinkerbell – were honestly the closest he had come to friends in a long, long while. Perhaps it was because they had both lost their wings. Tiger Lily in particular, seemed to understand the allure of darkness and its crushing weight more than most.

“Let’s just say my history with her goes way back,” Pan shouted, lurching up from his casual posture, face contorting. It was the most unhinged Killian had ever seen him. He quickly composed himself, a slight red tinge to his cheeks. “All I’m asking is where to find her.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed. “So you can kill her.”

Pan shrugged. “Maybe. It really isn’t your concern.”

Killian closed his eyes, weighing his options. He had longed to leave this island for so long. Milah’s memory deserved vengeance, and with knowledge of the Dark One’s dagger, he could finally achieve it. Tiger Lily may not have magic, but she was a fierce fighter. All Killian was doing was giving Pan a location. He could send a message of warning to Tiger Lily once the Jolly Roger was far enough from shore.

“Hangman’s Tree,” he finally told Pan.

This was exactly why Captain Hook didn’t have many friends.

******************************************************

Killian Jones had conflicting emotions right now. On the one hand, it was a gorgeous early September day with bright sunshine, a pleasant breeze, and the first hints of yellow and orange in the trees. His little girl skipped merrily between her parents down the sidewalk, her little navy jumper and knee socks making her the most adorable picture. Elien’s light red hair was pulled up into pigtails that curled at the ends and bounced as she skipped along.

On the other hand, it was his baby girl’s first day of preschool.

“What are you brooding about Killian?” Emma laughed as Elien darted ahead. “Don’t you dare jump in that puddle, Elien! You aren’t wearing your rain boots!”

Elien skidded to a halt just at the edge of a murky puddle and glanced up at her mother with a mischievous grin. “I was just looking!”

Emma elbowed him in the ribs. “Who does that sound like?” she teased. Then she threaded her arm through his as they walked along behind Elien. “Now, about this brooding . . . “

Killian sighed. “Doesn’t four seem awfully young to go off to school?”

“Well technically, she’s four years and five months old,” Emma quipped, then laughed at the tortured look on his face. “Relax, Papa Bear! It’s half day preschool. We’re taking turns picking her up at lunch every day. Aurora – gentle, soft-spoken Aurora – is her teacher. What could go wrong?”

Emma would kick herself later. Almost a decade of peaceful, small town life had obviously made her complacent. Because why else would she have tested fate with a statement like that?

One minute, Elien was poking at a worm in the rain puddle with a stick while Killian shouted a warning for her not to get her socks muddy. The next minute, there was a roar and a scream, and Elien was gone. Swallowed up in an instant by the swirling portal that opened up beneath her. Emma and Killian dove forward to catch her, but the portal closed just as swiftly as it opened. They both ended up rolling with groans onto the hard pavement. Heedless of their injuries, they scrambled to their knees, and pounded at the unrelenting pavement, screaming Elien’s name. Both of them were near hysteria, and their panic brought a crowd running to help.

People joined them in their pointless pounding, calling Elien’s name over and over again. Other’s asked questions that only made Emma and Killian snap in anger. Were they sure it was a portal? What color was it? Where did it lead to? Emma was grasping at her hair in frustration because there were simply no answers. An ambulance arrived on the scene, which made Killian practically lose it. His daughter didn’t need medical attention, she needed a bloody magic bean.

But Emma and Killian did need medical attention. Emma had broken her arm diving to the pavement while Killian had scraped his knuckles raw and sliced his knee with his own hook. But Emma shooed the paramedics away like pesky flies and merely waved her hand, using her magic to heal them both. Elien needed them, and she needed them strong.

The problem was, they had no idea where Elien had ended up. Anton arrived with a pouch full of beans, but where did they begin? There were hundreds of realms, each of them containing thousands of miles of terrain.

Emma sat on the curb, rolling a bean between her fingers. Killian paced along the sidewalk behind her. The crowd had long ago dispersed, and only Anton, David, and Snow remained.

“Do you think it was Elien’s own magic?” David asked hesitantly.

Anton shook his head. “Not even Rumplestiltskin could just open a portal. You need a bean, or a magic door, or a wand. Some magical object.” He turned to Emma. “Unless Elien had something like that?”

Emma rubbed her head wearily, “I don’t think so. But how can I know for sure? This town was created with magic, she could have picked up a freakin’ enchanted pebble for all I know.”

“Listen,” Snow said calmly, “instead of focusing on how the portal opened, let’s try and figure out where she might have gone when she went through. I mean, how do portals work?”

Killian stopped pacing, a grin lighting his face. “They take you to the place you’re thinking of.”

Emma scrambled to her feet. “And Elien visits the Elven Lands all the time in her dreams!”

“Which means she’s in Middle Earth.”

The group turned to see Tauriel standing near the pavement. She was more ethereal than usual, which happened when she ventured this far into town. She was frantic as she gazed first at Emma, then at her son. “They’ve taken her. My people. Hurry. I’ll be right behind you.”

Then she was gone.

Everyone exchanged glances, and Emma lifted the bean that she held in her hand. With her other hand, she reached out for Killian’s hook. “Well, I’m relying on you, elf. Never been to Middle Earth.”

Killian shook his head at her good-natured teasing. “Let’s not wait another minute, love, our little girl needs us.”

Emma stepped closer, but before she tossed the bean, she gave Killian an accusing look. “This wasn’t some grand scheme to keep your baby from starting school, was it?”

Killian arched a brow. “This entire situation is making school look better and better.”

Emma glanced back at her parents. “Hold down the fort while we’re gone?”

Her parents gave a nod of assurance in answer. Then Emma tossed the bean, and with a deep breath and a clear mind, she jumped, completely trusting her husband’s memories to take them to their daughter. 

[sokumotanaka]

Last train home: An ode to Rwby

It’s over...it’s finally over.

Prepare for a long and tired final post.

Look, let me say this;

RWBY volume 6 is a mess and I think that's the most charitable thing I can say after spending several years of being invested in it’s crumbling world.

Maybe it was laziness, rushed or sheer incompetence that made this season crumble, so in my final review on rwby as a whole I may have to do some guess work at points; and after several wasted years, I’m not in a position from this point on to be charitable.

I gotta tell you, volume 6 tricked me, hell from what I seen it tricked alot of us, it started off good, we learned thing we should of learned volumes ago. But then I soon realized that this volume was; damage control. We learn of ozpin origins with salem only to not get to absorb it cause we soon learn through obvious reasons that maria was a silver eyed warrior and when ruby finally starts training, we meet one of jaune’s sisters, also pyrrha’s statue is there, but also neo is back, but so is adam and cinder, also mercury has no semblance, tyrian has a new tail-

see what I mean? before you could absorb one thing, two more pop up in its place and there’s such a lack in structure in the world, characters, their growth, development and their dimensions. The magic and power system that rwby has is just a mess that gets increasingly worse as it progresses, they take one step forward only to stumble several feet back and fall on their ass. And maybe one of the problem is I listen to writers commentary; to someone who doesn’t they won’t see as many problems as I do with the series, but when you actually listen to it you see the many problems it has with how this series is handled.

A reboot is at this point completely necessary and needed for this series to make even a semblance of sense. Semblance, Aura and Dust are so poorly handled and explained that they changed at several points to the point of being contrived.

Semblance was originally something you could use when your aura was completely depleted before requiring aura to use.

Except when it’s not but also when it can be, it changes at the drop of a hat, we see yang use her semblance with no aura in her vol 5 trailer, then sun in vol 4 loses his semblance when his aura is depleted.

despite miles changing it almost instantly afterwards...

When I started rwby I was optimistic it could be a great show probably not spectacular or amazing but great, and while it had it’s flaws and potholes at the time they were relatively small at first, but they just kept growing and more issues popped up and...christ if you like rwby and notice it’s flaws that’s fine, but I can’t say the same for people who outright ignore the flaws people critiquing the series bring up to get mad and preach about how only positive criticism can save the show.

Look as a person who started off with positive criticism I’m not saying it has no place, but you also can’t say critics be it negative from your perspective, is objectively bad or unneeded. Sometimes a firm but fair hand is needed.

Ruby’s issues are like a small flame building up, you can close your eyes and ignore the problem but sooner or later if something’s not done your house is gonna be completely on fire, and you don’t know how that may affect your surroundings, for all you know ignoring the issue caused the trees behind your house to catch fire, maybe one toppled over and landed on a neighboring house and now it’s spreading. The bottom line is weather you can get past the issue to find the things you like isn’t the problem, it’s ignoring them in the first place, if you aren’t willing to help something growth and change for the better with non rose tinted criticism then you’re not offering any help at all, you’re hindering it because you yourself refuse to change and that can be just as harmful if not worse to coddle something.

Rwby increasingly became more unhinged as a series, the flaws turned into overlapping problems, this went from a world that felt had love and care crafted into it to a plot and world with more holes than swiss cheese, which is why so many people felt disappointed and rightfully annoyed, could you sit there and tell me if I made a series and told you one thing yet showed you another only to tell you “yeah that’s not what I meant.” in post that you wouldn’t feel even the slightest bit of cheated, lied to or had your time wasted? If not do I have a camel to sell you among other things!

As a person who sat through so many lovely crafted media; I sat through paper mario and it’s whimsical tale, I watched avatar and fell in love with it’s amazing characters, world building and music, same goes for things like steven universe, final fantasy 6 (a game ironically about togetherness) ff9, the persona series, hunter x hunter, soul eater, gravity falls, Disney flicks, the dragon age series every super giant game, all these and more were handled with so much love and care and hold their structure throughout.

I.  LOVE. MEDIA.

I spend most of my time absorbed in their stories worlds and characters, laughing and crying and growing with them to the point I studied it, twice to get two separate degrees in it because I wanted to write at a time. So when I critique rwby, call out it’s flaws and so on, it’s not a personal attack on you if you like it, but I also can’t be satisfied with where the series has gone, not because it’s not ‘my’ take but because I enjoy narrative flow, I find interest in the characters if the plot isn’t too good and vise versa, media can touch on so many amazing things and I felt at a time...that miles and kerry could do well if they tried, if they applied themselves, before becoming such mean spirited, greedy and unwilling people, and this was long before I came into the picture, long before rwde no matter how much you disagree or what to place blame.

Cause trust me I seen rwby stans (fans unwilling to hear criticism out and will display many hypocritical and messed up tendencies over a cartoon)  not only ignore issues, tell people to kill themselves over a typed critique of a series they like, be irrational, sexist, racist or just plain stupid at times, you realize soon that the rwby tag is a cesspool of horrible people mixed in with a minuscule amount of fans willing to discuss the issues offer fixes and healthy non annoying chats on what they like and dislike.

Which confuses me as an individual cause I feel personally you can and should review rwby without threat of an anonymous person telling you to die over your opinion or one of the writers telling people to...enact physical violence on fans who don’t watch the supplemental material they hide, don’t promote to a casual audience and contradict and retcon on a constant basis. And sometimes it’s through a panel or a tweet, a casual rwby fan wouldn’t even catch unless they constantly follow the writers around or have someone dedicated enough to do so.

And all the stuff I mention and want isn’t impossible or asking too much honestly, I’d like the writers to be honest and fair to their fanbase, like anyone would, I’d like them to listen to actual critique and hire someone who can guide them so it doesn’t turn into one big “damage control” arc, The characters need more substance and need more screen time to grow as characters and fighters, when your fans excuse character growth with “Well animation is hard, not everything could be onscreen it could happen offscreen.” you have a problem, can you imagine ed just showing up with alphonse and it never being explained and I go “well animation is hard.” yeah that goes without saying but at the same time there are writers, creators and so on who get paid less, have smaller teams and sometimes just teams of two people to work hard on their craft, amazing teams with money, production and care like supergiant games get overlooked, so never EVER excuse jump cuts and lack of characterization, structure and development when better writers are out there busting their asses.

Do not be that guy.

*sigh* I been sitting here thinking how how I could end this, how after several years of a fast decline in quality, what’s something I could possibly leave this on? What can I say past this point? I been actually sitting in stunned silence trying to mull it over. I guess all I can say is, if you like rwby fair, fine, despite the major holes I discuss fixes with the series, I draw characters, try fixing the crumbling road of rwby trying hard to understand it, make no mistakes that when I critique it it’s not coming from a place of contempt for the series, but of disappointment in how far it’s fallen and how it could have been good if miles and kerry took the hand offered, it wouldn’t lead them down the most comfortable road, but they’d gain experience from it and could fix the series possibly for the better, and if you again like rwby, do not allow rose tinted goggles to blind you from the issues of the series, the ever growing problems with the series and the unwillingness for the writers to change and grow, do not allow more writers to turn into david cage, M Night Shyamalan, or stephenie meyer.

If you want the best for the rwby series and the rwby brand then you cannot accept mediocrity, you need to be vocal otherwise the writers won’t be incentivized to do better. And it doesn’t have to be straight up criticism, you can word it your way as long as it helps the writing grow, but at the point we’re at and how nice or not miles and kerry take current criticism rwby will continue to plummet and honestly that’s a disappointment.

To all fellow rwde and non rwde who have supported me thus far? Thank you, this has been a wild ride and while we possibly haven’t seen eye to eye I enjoyed and learn alot from watching you over the years, and now I think it’s finally time for the vet to retire and give the reins to new people, I received alot of kind messages from this and they touched my heart, take care rwby critics, it’s been real.

-A past fan of rwby