#work has me so exhausted that I can barely be creative

[inkspottie]

INCUBATE

Had some vampire feelings, so decided to draw my vampire boyo

#spottie draws #Harrison #monstermash #vampire #work has me so exhausted that I can barely be creative #ugh

[creative-crybaby]

Knots

PAIRING: masseur!Geto Suguru x fem!reader

GENRE: no curses!au | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: fingering, nipple play, semi-public sex/exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), brief masturbation (m), size kink, praise kink, cum eating, light mentions of/brief marking

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

SUMMARY: With so much stress piling up on you, Geto was kind enough to offer you a massage. Unfortunately, no amount of relaxation can distract you from the sexual tension between you and your friend.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: MAPPA can't draw jjk characters like that and expect me not to write smut about em 🙄also: HAPPY NEW YEARS, LOVELIES <3333

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

“Are you sure this is okay?” It’s too late to ask him that, but you couldn’t stop the question from leaving your lips. “I’d hate for you to get in trouble.”

Your face burns as silence follows; you can only thank whatever gods above for him not being able to see your expression.

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” he chuckles, and you copy the sound nervously, unsure if he is serious. After a pregnant pause, he adds, “I’m kidding. You have nothing to worry about.” Your peripheral vision catches him moving around you to get to the cabinet. “Consider it a favour from a friend.”

You hear the cabinet door open and shut, and you shift from your spot face down on the table.

“At least let me pay you back somehow,” you press, pouting. 

“That defeats the point of a favour, doesn’t it?” Geto’s footsteps get louder until you catch sight of his shoes from the corner of your eye. There’s another pause, this one longer than the previous one. “Are you comfortable with me unclapsing your bra?” Before you can answer, he quickly continues, “It can stay on like you wanted, I just need the straps out of the way.”

If you aren’t hyping yourself up to take every opportunity to get closer to the masseur, you’re second-guessing your decision to take his offer. Should he follow through with the action, it would only be the beginning of something far more intimate. And you know this. You knew this. Even when Geto first suggested the idea after you opened up about your piling stress and even when you foolishly thought asking Gojo for advice on the offer was a good idea. 

But you’re here now, aren’t you?

“Go for it,” you try to mask whatever uneasiness you can. Gentle fingers tug at the clips at the end of your bra, disconnecting them and allowing the straps to drop. Even with your chest still covered, you feel bare, the cool air tickling the newly exposed area. You have to force yourself from shivering.

“You still like the scent of lavender?” Geto's question catches you off-guard, raising your head from the cushion, not realizing that he recalled such a minor detail. Your silence makes the ravenette turn to you again, offering his easy-going smile. “Or have your tastes changed?”

You nod mindlessly, blinking up at him. “Lavender’s good.”

Geto hums before searching through his cabinet, taking several seconds to find the bottle he was looking for. You rest your head back on the cushion before he can catch you staring.

“I’ll be starting now.” The sound of a bottle cap opening follows your friend’s words. “If you’re ever uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to let me know. Otherwise, just lay back and relax.”

Despite his gentle voice, following his order becomes easier said than done once his large hands come in contact with your back, the oil adding to his skin’s warmth. You bit your lip, the serene scent of lavender reaching your olfactory as the masseur works his magic on your stress. 

You don’t realize how exhausted your body has felt until Geto applies pressure for the first time, and you cringe. 

“Easy, easy,” he soothes, pausing his ministrations once you try to relax your body. “Wow, you are stressed.”

You allow your body to sink further into the table’s mattress when his soft laughter reaches your ears, and you give him the go-ahead to continue. Fingerpads return to your skin, rubbing heavy yet sturdy circles onto your back, untying any and every knot trapping your muscles. You can feel your body fall limp, drowning heavily while at the same time floating into the heavens as every evidence of exhaustion disappears from you. 

Still, even as you try to keep your mind blank and enjoy the moment, you can’t help but notice how much space Geto’s hand takes up on your back. It doesn’t help that they creep up to your neck, more than ready to push the problems away from that area. 

“So,” you trail off, feeling the need to fill the silence rather than embrace it, “You give these massages to Ieiri or Satoru?” 

The ravenette chuckles. “If you’d call the occasional shoulder rub a proper massage, then sure.”

A memory of the four of you at a local diner pops into your head, Shoko telling Geto a shoulder massage was the least she deserved after all the all-nighters she’s suffered through. You giggled, watching the medical student melt under the masseur’s magic touch, ignoring the twinge of jealousy that prodded your mind. 

You quip. “Not even a full-body one? Ieiri’s the one who deserves it the most out of us.”

“Guess she just never has the time for one,” he hums. 

“And Satoru?”

Geto snickers, pausing his actions. You join in on the laughter, a small swell of pride blooming in your chest. 

Your joy is cut short when he resumes the massage, adding pressure to a specific area below the nape of your neck that forces a whimper out of you. You freeze, hoping the masseur didn’t hear it. But with how his hold on you paused, even for just a moment, you couldn’t deceive yourself into believing you were in the clear. 

“Sorry,” you squeak, the warmth from your face expanding to the rest of your body. Could he feel it?

You can hear the smile in his voice. “So tense, aren’t you?”

You don’t miss the octave drop in his voice, biting your tongue. Geto returns to work, his fingers digging into your skin and untying whatever knots your muscles carried for who knows how long. You allow yourself to sigh at the sensation, your brows knitting together from the pressure without the discomfort. 

His hands travel lower, returning to previous areas with added strength until he reaches the small of your back. You try not to tense upon feeling his fingers graze the towel covering your bottom, but you can’t prevent the shaky moan from escaping your lips once his hold shifts to your hips. 

Another pause from him: another apology from you. 

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” Your friend assures you, though you barely miss the light strain in his tone. “I’ll be working on your legs next, okay?”

You hum lightly, shifting from your spot as he passes what the towel covers. Your thoughts wander before you can put them on a leash, the pang of disappointment from the neglect of that area allowing your imagination to drift. 

Would a massage there even feel good? Geto would undoubtedly find a way, his large hands practically blanketing each cheek. And his fingers—God, they were the stars of the show, finding the spots that needed the most attention and pushing every bit of tension out of your worn-out body. You’re confident his digits would be just as adventurous in other places.

You feel yourself clench around nothing and fear the handsome man above you possibly noticing. Shaking your head, you hope those thoughts fly out like fleas. 

Geto stops. “Too much?”

“Hm?” You snap out of your daze. “Oh, no. I’m fine.”

The masseur’s hands glide up to your upper thighs, and you freeze, his hold remaining in place as he leans closer to your head.

“You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t like it,” he says, his voice calm. “I can return the favour some other way.”

Your body moves before your brain can command it to. Or rather, stop it from doing so. Hastily, you raise your head from the cushion, your upper torso following suit as it twists to face your friend.

“I can take it.” 

Silence. Too much of it for your liking. It has your stomach churning and your heart ramming against your ribs. Maybe it’s the heaviness in your body that follows you getting up too quickly, or your word choice. It could also be how Geto stares at you with parted lips, his eyes on you but not meeting your gaze.

Instead of further embarrassing yourself by speaking, you follow his focus, only to wish you hadn’t. 

Your bra, long forgotten by you, barely hangs onto your body by its straps by your elbows, exposing your back as well as most of your chest. The lavender scent is no longer soothing, the heat on your face is dizzying, and you’d want nothing more than to run out the door if only your legs weren’t practically limp from your friend’s treatment. It doesn’t help that his hold on the back of your upper thighs hasn’t budged. If anything, it’s tightened, his grip making your clit jump.

You suppose you spoke too soon once the warmth of Geto’s touch disappeared from your legs, the masseur having moved to reach for your bra straps to pull them back up to your shoulders before you could process his actions. You blink, eyes trailing up to his face now adorning a rosy hue and soft lips pressed into a thin line. He’s so much closer, his breath barely fanning the top of your head. And if you aren’t forcing your gaze to meet his, you’re impulsively glancing back at his mouth. 

With so much focus on the beautiful man, you don’t catch him slowly but surely leaning in.

The last discernable thing you catch is Geto’s lidded eyes darkening before he presses his lips against yours.

You don’t breathe. You forget to, just like how you leave your mouth slightly agape and your eyes wide open. 

The ravenette pulls away quicker than he’d leaned in, and the corners of your lips twitch downwards. His brows furrow as he looks at you with a brighter flush on his handsome face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

No. You won’t let him regret his actions, not for your sake. 

The sudden shift in perspective is alarming when, only moments ago, you feared ruining your relationship with your friend. Now, you’re shifting to sit on the massage table, grabbing Geto by his shirt collar, tugging him forward and slamming his lips onto yours. You groan at the impact, relaxing only a second later once he returns the kiss with just as much hunger. 

But he’s still not close enough. His hold remains on your bra straps, making it harder for you to wrap your arms around his neck. It’s the only reason you pull back, locking eyes with him as you place your hands on his. 

“Suguru,” you pant, chest heaving for air as your lids droop. Your following words stay trapped in your throat, the masseur having slid his hold higher up your shoulders to bring you back to the kiss. You squeak, the fervour behind his actions far more evident as his tongue teases your lower lip. He groans into your mouth, his thumbs caressing your skin as you invite him in, eager to have him even closer. 

Your hands are still on top of Geto’s, you remember, and you slide his down your arms while he’s distracted by the kiss. (With how he’s swirling his tongue around yours, you aren’t sure you can call it a “kiss” anymore.)

You pull back hastily, not missing the string of saliva connecting your bottom lips before motioning for him to look down. His sharp eyes do so, blinking out of his haze as he sees how the cups of your bra no longer cover your breasts. You don’t recall when you stopped caring about your face burning like it was on fire, the pride in your chest and lust in your lower belly now the dominant sensations as he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful creature on the planet. 

“Please,” he gulps, an unmissable strain in his voice. “Let me taste you.”

Even after the lewd makeout session, his words left your mouth cotton-dry. You can only kiss him again, guiding his hands to cup your breasts, your bra sliding off your arms. 

When Geto pulls back, his lips reattach to your skin, trailing down your neck to the valley of your mounds. He lightly pushes you to lie down on the table, making yourself comfortable before plopping one of your nipples into his mouth, the other one between his fingers. Your own hands loosen his hair from its bun, the strands falling gracefully onto his broad back. They’re as soft as they look, your fingers streaming through the midnight locks like water past the pebbles in the river. 

The masseur switches his treatment, the other nipple now teased by the grazing of his teeth while his large hand keeps the second breast from neglect. Your body feels hot, and the warmth of his mouth does little to soothe the issue. But with how much you’ve been rubbing your thighs together, you’d hardly consider this a problem now. 

Your hands remain in his hair as Geto continues kissing down your body, stopping just at the apex of your thigh to peer at you with those dark pools for irises. One of his hands removes the towel from your lap, revealing your thin shorts underneath. He tugs at the waistband, silently asking for your permission. Your response consists of your hips rising from the table, and he’s quick to shimmy your remaining clothes off your body, stealing another passionate kiss from you in the process. 

“I want nothing more than to hear every sound I get out of you,” your friend (can you still call him that?) pants, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards and his face flushed as he watches your reaction through hooded lids. You lean in, chasing his lips for another kiss. He stops you with a finger, and you hold back the whine squeaking from your throat. He chuckles. “But I’m going to need you to keep your voice down. Can you do that for me?”

You almost forgot that you’re in a public setting, even with the privacy of a closed door. Geto warmly smiles when you nod, and he lowers himself to face your crotch, helping you shift to let your legs dangle off the table. You find his eyes widening upon catching sight of your bare cunt already drooling your essence. The ravenette exhales shakily before planting a kiss on your clit, making you twitch. Your reaction makes him chuckle, and he licks long strips against your slit, moaning through his languid movements. 

“What was that about being quiet?” You giggle breathily, leaning your weight on your hands. Geto pauses. 

“Sorry, beautiful,” he whispers with a smile, tightening his hold on your thighs. “You taste like a dream.”

You throw your head back as your eyes flutter shut, his words and continued ministrations between your legs setting your body ablaze and your mind blank. It doesn’t help that he’s practically encouraging you to cage him tightly between your thighs, squeezing his head in place as he makes out with your cunt. Your hips grind into his touch, moving in tandem with his soft lips and warm tongue. 

Even with his sensual movements, you can tell he’s holding back, if his tight hold on the fat of your thighs is any indication. Your hips grind into his touch, allowing him permission to feast on you how he’d like, gripping a fistful of his locks for further encouragement. And the masseur seems to have gotten the message, his tongue digging inside you while his nose nudges at your pearl. 

Holding back your sounds of pleasure is already a challenge—warning the handsome male beneath you of your oncoming release doesn’t even seem possible, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as the sensation in your lower belly grows stronger. 

And maybe Geto doesn’t need you to tell him. Or maybe, he’s just so lost in the taste of your essence that he’s decided to wrap his soft lips around your puffy clit and suck, the tip of his tongue flicking at the nub at the same time. Whatever the case, his actions do the trick, your hold on his head tightening as your legs shake while your jaw falls slack. The ravenette doesn’t falter, pushing himself closer to your cunt, his mouth working its magic and creating sounds that would embarrass you if it weren’t for the ringing in your ears.

Coming down from the high, plus the massage, has you losing your hold on yourself. Luckily for you, Geto quickly rises from his spot, catching you by the waist and pulling you into another kiss with a soft groan. Your taste on your tongue and the need for air make you dizzy, but you bring him closer regardless. 

“‘M sorry,” he pants after ending the kiss, his chin shining with your slick. “Just had to show you how good you taste.”

You can only whimper in response, feathering kisses on his lips as you play with his hair. Geto happily lets you, his large hands mapping your torso and thighs as if burning every curve into his memory. 

“Didn’t know this came with the free massage,” you mumble against his mouth, holding back a smile. 

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he purrs, moving you back down on your stomach like you weigh nothing. You hear the rustling of clothing, and before you can ask him what he’s doing, you feel a weight hovering over your figure. Familiar, large hands splay open on either side of your head while muscular thighs cage your legs in place. “Do you trust me?”

Something pokes your lower back, and you almost forget to answer with the masseur’s hot breath against your ear. You lift your hips to grind against his crotch with a whimper, hoping that’ll be more than enough for him. 

Your actions make Geto laugh, and he teasingly nibbles at your earlobe. “Use your words, darling.”

It doesn’t help that he’s taken his tip to glide across your slit, collecting your juices as a lubricant. You twist your head to face him, one of your hands gripping on the cushion above you as a distraction.

“I’ve been waiting a lot longer for this moment than you know,” you confess meekly, watching as the ravenette’s eyes widen and lips part from your words. “And I don’t think I can keep it up any longer.”

You worry you’ve revealed too much too soon when you’re met with silence. But when that familiar smile and soft gaze grace Geto’s features, the nerves fluttering in your stomach evaporate. 

The handsome male presses a kiss against your temple. “That makes two of us, then.”

With only a few seconds to register his confession, your heart does a doubletake before you feel Geto lead his cock into your heat, his hand gripping yours as reassurance. The subtly painful stretch that follows suit makes you grateful for the gesture, your insides splitting in half as he just keeps going in. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling every vein graze against you. 

The masseur notices, it seems, and he whispers encouraging words in your ear, giving you the occasional kiss on your shoulder.

“There you go,” he drawls quietly, his crotch meeting your ass. “Nice and full, aren’t you?”

You exhale shakily, feeling his strong chest pressed against your back. On rare occasions, when Geto wears tight-fitting shirts, you’re blessed with the sight of his chiselled physique, especially his back, since he can’t catch you ogling. The chance to leave your mark there, like an artist’s signature on a painted canvas, is one you’ve longed for. However, with the knot in your belly ready to snap without having him even move makes you grateful for the current position. Maybe next time you’ll get to see all of him. 

Next time. 

“Can I move, darling?” Geto's breath tickles your skin. “I’m afraid I won’t last too long with how you’re squeezing me.”

The almost boyish giggle he breathes out has your heart rocketing in your ribs. Your affirmation comes out weak, but the masseur hears it loud and clear. He reels his hips back, but it’s when he buries his shaft back into you that you feel your eyes roll back once more. Your jaw falls open, a moan slipping out as he sets a languid yet deep pace. 

“We need to keep quiet, remember?” Geto shushes, his face buried in your neck. “My massages are good, but even outsiders might grow suspicious if you’re too loud.”

His soft laughter mixes with your pleading whine. “You’re not making it easy for me.”

The ravenette halts his movements, much to your dismay. Even with you wiggling your hips, he doesn't budge, and you’re about to ask him about the holdup before he beats you to it. 

“You think it’s easy for me?” The soothing lilt of his voice is long gone, replaced with a low timbre that has you clenching around his girth. “I’ve got you milking me for all I’m worth, and we barely started. What do you think that does to me?”

You feel his teeth graze your skin, making you shiver as you try to regain friction between your legs. Geto's stronger than you, much stronger, and your movements don’t make him budge. 

With a quivering sigh, you prop yourself on your forearms, and he retracts from his hiding spot in your neck. You face him, lids hanging low on your eyes and face warmer than it should be. 

“Show me.”

With a smirk, Geto pulls himself out until only his tip remains before slamming back into you. You choke on a gasp, his pace and strength relentless as his hips slap against your ass, the sounds bouncing off the walls. You can’t even call him out on his hypocrisy as you bury your face into the table, hoping it’ll help mask your cries. 

It doesn’t, of course. But Geto Suguru, ever the gentleman, carefully lifts your head by your neck and, while hovering over you, slams his lips against yours. The position isn’t the most comfortable, but you don’t find yourself complaining as he rams into you, filling you up and moulding your insides into the shape of his cock.

Your eyes don’t know what to do, from squeezing shut to crossing. At one point, you catch the door in your peripheral vision, and the thought of potentially getting caught has you clenching, your hand reaching for the masseur’s bicep and digging your nails into his pale skin. 

Geto grunts. “You trying to make me cum, beautiful?”

His playful tone makes you whine, his pace never faltering as he sneaks one of his hands under you to grope one of your breasts. The toying of your nipple, along with the male’s relentless thrusts, fuels the coil in your belly, and what does the trick is him leaving his mark on your neck. 

With a drawn-out gasp, your body stills, toes curling and tongue lolling out as your pussy convulses. You hardly notice Geto’s strokes growing sloppy, his whispered cursing going in one ear and out the other. Having him lead you to heaven is plenty for you. 

Once you calm down, though, you feel like he’s pulled out too soon. You groan, your ears catching the light sounds of him shuffling from his spot above you, followed by a rapid squelching noise that has you peeking over your shoulder. 

There, in all his naked glory, is Geto stroking his cock, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and eyes zeroed in on your figure. 

“Shit, shit—” he cuts himself off with a gasp, ropes of cum shooting from his slit and landing on the back of your thighs. The sight alone has you clenching, the need for him inside you arising once more. “Oh, fuck—”

Anyone would grow angry at a mess thrown at them. You’re no different, just worse (the one time Gojo accidentally made you ruin your eyeliner is more than enough proof—the poor fool).

 And yet, having painted your thighs white by Geto, his seed clinging to your oily (and now sweaty) skin, you somehow find yourself falling for him more. 

“Suguru,” you slur, your eyelids fluttering as you allow your body to slump back onto the table. You feel his weight disappear before hearing footsteps grow louder. Through tired eyes, you’re face-to-face with his crotch, causing you to squeak as your upper body jolts up again. 

“Sorry, sorry,” the masseur chuckles, crouching to meet you at eye level. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The atmosphere returns to the comforting one his work ought to bring, though a part of you finds yourself fidgety. The ravenette wipes away the evidence with a wet towel, and it’s enough to keep you in place and relaxed as he continues to take care of you. 

Once done, he helps you sit up, keeping you steady as your legs dangle off the table.

“I think you fucked the bones out of me,” you croak, and Geto pauses midway from sliding your underwear back up your legs. He laughs a soft, boyish laugh, the melody bringing a smile to your lips and a warmth of embarrassment to your cheeks. “Is this what you had in mind by doing me a favour?”

He pecks your nose before resuming dressing you. “No, but I’m not complaining with the results.”

You hum, and the silence returns as he aids you with the rest of your clothes. 

It isn’t until he’s slipping his boxers back on that you speak again. “You don’t give this kind of special treatment to the others?”

A witless, little joke on your part, though your tone didn’t match. Maybe it was the exhaustion that took charge or a sliver of self-consciousness that needed assurance that you had him all to yourself. Still, you press your lips into a thin line, awaiting his answer. 

“To our friends or my clients?” he inquires, putting on the remainder of his clothes. “Either way, the answer’s no.” When you don’t say anything else, he approaches you, nudging his nose against yours. “Did you want me to?”

Your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze. “No!”

Geto's joking smile eases into a sincere one, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and embracing you. 

“Perfect,” he breathes, pressing his lips to your temple. “Guess that means you’re the only one who gets my special treatment.” A pause, followed by a sheepish giggle. “As long as we do it outside of my job. I’d like to keep it, you know.”

From your position, you peer over his shoulder to where the door stands a few meters away, shut and locked but keeping you in suspense. With heat bubbling in your face, you hide in the crook of his neck. 

“You technically never finished my massage,” you mumble against his skin, your hands tracing any muscle it can reach on his back. Geto pulls back from the hug, jutting his bottom lip as if pondering.

“I suppose you’re right,” he hums before another smile breaks onto his features. “Shall we continue back at my place, then?”

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

#fanfic #fanfiction #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #geto smut #geto x reader #smut

[butdaddyilovehim-hs]

Quiet - HS

Hi 🫣 Long time no see I’m so sorry. This is barely anything but I think I’m going to get back into writing again yay!! This is something so tiny it doesn’t even count but it’s based off something that actually happened to me yesterday lol with a ✨bit✨ of creative liberty… might make it a series 🤭 Send me asks - I’m going to try and get to them all now!!

~

Y/N’s sitting at the Styles dinner table when Harry walks in from work, laughing with his family. She pretends to be unaffected by his presence, murmuring a quiet “hello” before smiling softly at the way Ellie’s eyes light up at the appearance of her dad. Y/N isn’t entirely sure why she was invited to dinner in the first place… she’s just the nanny. But if Harry is confused by her attendance, he doesn’t show it.

There aren’t any seats left by the time he arrives so he grabs a stool from the other room, placing it down in the small space in between Ellie and Y/N. He stops behind her before he sits down, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing lightly. She sinks into his touch for a moment before her eyes dart around the table making sure no one has seen.

“Missed you. Didn’t know you’d be here.” Harry whispers as he slides into the seat beside her.

He’s exhausted, she can tell.

“It’s weird isn’t it. Your mum invited me when she came to pick Ellie up. I can go if it’s-”

“No. Stay.”

The hand on her shoulder has moved under the table to her knee, awfully close to the hem of her dress. Y/N wishes she had a clue about what was going on between them. Her crush didn’t help things one bit. His hand inches higher and she slaps his thigh discreetly.

“Harry. Ellie is here.” Y/N mutters, motioning to the otherwise unaware 4 year old.

“Mmhmm. Ellie seems rather preoccupied with her colouring.”

“Your mother is here.”

“Don’t care. Missed you.” He says again and Y/N melts. She always does.

She holds back a small moan as Harry’s fingers brush along the outside of her panties, and his smirk grows at the small wet patch he finds.

“Gonna be a good girl f’me love? Keep quiet ok? Gonna get you out of here soon, I missed dinner and I’m starving.”

Tags:

@lukesaprince @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge @lomlhstyles @opheliaofficial07 @behindmygreyeyes @gem1712 @stylesmoonlight12 @babyiamperfectforyou

@velvetballaspark @harrys-flower @macy-tpwk

@mema10 @intimacywithceline @jerseygirlinca

@daphnesutton @rafaaoli @allthelovehes @lovrave

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @namelesssav @hsonlyangelxo @smartcookee @myfavfanficsever

#harry styles #hslot #love on tour #harrystyles #harry styles au #harry styles fics #harry styles fic #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles ceo #harry styles smut

[luveline]

Hi! I have a req for zombie Steve! Maybe one about the day they got stuck in the taco truck and he asked reader to sing for him! Sending all my love to you Jade! 🥰

thank you for your request! steve zombie au —you and steve get stuck in a taco truck with no idea what you mean to one another. 3k, fem!reader

You and Steve stand side by side. The wind is gentle, the sun occluded by a swath of thin clouds. He has a hand reached out to touch your thigh as you stand there, his knuckles pressed to your jeans with light pressure. 

"I wish," you begin, a dangerous game, "that someone was about to open the shutter and ask us what we want." 

Steve doesn't laugh, but he huffs through his nose. He's growing softer and softer these days, which isn't to say he's soft at all, but he's less coarse. His grumpiness wanes. You think it might have something to do with your sleeping in his lap nearly every night, arms wrapped around his waist while he sits and keeps watch as you rest. Sometimes when he wakes you up to take over, he even deigns to sleep on your thigh. 

It's hard to be mad at each other while you use one another like pillows. Hard, yet not impossible. 

"I wish I was living on a private island," Steve says. "With a private chef. And–" 

"Private dancers?" you tease. 

He does smile, then. Like you're friends. Like you could be more. You hope so —he kissed you two weeks ago and he hasn't said a thing about it since. You'd hoped he might kiss you more, but you're content (kind of) with this odd in between. 

He doesn't regret it, surely, having been nice to you on multiple occasions since; smoothing your cheek with his knuckle, or nudging you affectionately when you say something meant to be funny. Tiny moments of sweetness. 

He'd been sweet before every now and then. Steve isn't mean. He can be, but that isn't the centre of his character. He's brave, loyal, and good to you. He's funny when he lets himself be, and he'd surprised you by being rather creative a few weeks ago, when he'd found a stone that felt gritty and scratched the two of you onto a stretch of sidewalk. "There," he said, giving sidewalk-you an oddly pretty smile, "maybe one day someone will know we were here together." 

Together.

"Should we go in?" Steve asks, shielding his eyes from the sun. 

In another welcome warming toward you, Steve asks you your opinion more and more. 

"Is there any point?" you ask. 

"All the food is spoiled for sure, but maybe it'll be worth it. My knife is still stuck in that geek's skull in Masy Daisy. There's probably one in the truck I can replace it with."

"Or a spatula, if not."

"Maybe a ladel," he agrees. "Alright, come on. I'm gonna lift you through the window." 

"Why are you going to lift me through the window?" you ask, startled. 

"For the knife?" 

"But why not the door?" 

"Door's locked, genius." 

"Why don't I lift you through the window?" you ask. "And shouldn't we at least try the door?" 

You try the door and Steve doesn't mock you when it doesn't work, because it had been sensible to test it even if the chances were low. He slides his fingers under the shutter and lifts it until it locks from opening any further, rusty paint specks flaking to the ground. 

"You'll have to lift me," he says, as though you hadn't suggested it yourself. Infuriating. "Do you think you can?" 

"You don't think I can?" you ask. 

His gaze softens, just a bit. "You could barely move the day before yesterday. It's cool if you still feel achy." 

He feels guilty for letting you drink water that went bad. It had been a mix up. You asked him to pass you the water bottle and he'd grabbed one someone left behind a long time ago, unaware it was the wrong one until you'd thrown up an hour later. Terrifying, how quickly it upset your stomach. He put a new rule in place swiftly after that any debris in your camps must be swept to the side of the room, even if you're both exhausted. 

"I don't feel achy. The only thing that's bothering me is my sore throat," you confess, squaring your jaw. "Come on, Harrington, I can lift you. I'm super strong." 

"You're strong," he agrees. "Okay, uh, am I climbing on your back or are you gonna boost me?" 

"Boost." 

You make an anchoring point with your hand and Steve, after giving you a strange look, pulls the shutter open again and steps into your hand. You're expecting him to be somehow lighter and heavier than he actually is —your hands hurt from the pinpoint of his weight but you'd thought it would be harder to lift him up, and so you'd been trying to give it your all. 

"Oh, shit–" Steve's curse is cut off by a loud thump and crash, a clattering of metal against metal as the shutter swings shut behind him. 

"Steve!" you shout. Your voice isn't used to yelling. "Steve? Are you okay? I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" 

He's laughing inside, but when he pops his head back out of the truck he glares at you. "What's that about?" His glare melds into a softer look. "You're way stronger than you look."

"I'm sorry," you say. 

"It's fine," he says, emphasising with a smile. "It's only a concussion." 

You frown at him. He mocks your frown. 

He's definitely flirting with you. 

"What do you want?" he asks. 

"For you to be quick. I'm getting the heebies out here." 

"Well, don't say I never tried to grant your wish," he says. 

He puts the shutter of the taco truck onto a locked hinge so it keeps itself up and turns away from you. The counter isn't so far from the floor after all, and you can see pretty much everything he does as he scans the interior for useful things.

He grabs a kitchen knife that looks sharp and a saucepan with a hole at the end of the handle that looks perfect for tying to his backpack, passing them down to you carefully.

"There's, uh, there's some t-shirts in here, taco truck shirts. Shit, that's hilarious, should we take them?" 

"Yeah," you say, happy if he's happy, "we can be matching." 

"Sweet." 

Steve climbs up onto the counter. You hold your hands out to help him down, and for a second you think he might let you, his hand in yours. His gaze snags left, and he pitches back into the truck on a mad scramble. 

You turn to where he was looking, catch a snapshot of what looks like a writhing hill approaching you, and then Steve's grabbing your forearms hard in his grasp and hissing, "Climb up! Climb up, Y/N. Grab me!" 

Your heart rockets into your mouth as you grab his shoulders, fingers aching as they twist into the fabric of his jacket. Steve yanks you inside, and you almost break his chin with your forehead as you topple inside and on top of him, the two of you hitting the short length of flooring with a bang. 

"Stay down," he says, hand behind your head, "and be quiet." 

Your forehead hurts from hitting into him. You can't imagine how his chin feels. Pulse capering with fear-wrought adrenaline, you hide your face in his neck and try not to pant wetly into his skin. His arms tighten around when the sounds grow closer. Moaning breath. Shuffling, heavy feet. 

He holds you. You don't have the wits to revel in it.

You're not sure how long you stay like that, laying on his chest, your hands digging into his sides. He doesn't complain, doesn't hiss or murmur chastisement. Steve hugs you to him and lets out staggering, harsh breaths. He's scared too. 

When the sound of the geek herd is a distant memory, you attempt to sit up, and surprisingly he lets you without comment. You kneel on the divoted flooring and blink, and before Steve can sit up himself you're moving into a crouch to peek over the counter. 

Your bags have been tramped, your things strewn across the road outside. Steve crouches next to you. "Shit," he says. 

"Did I hurt you?" you ask, gesturing to his chin. "I'm really sorry, Steve."

"You say sorry too much," he says, eyes still on the road. "I'm sorry for almost pulling your arms off, okay? Let's call it even." He turns to you. A little frown pulls at the corners of his pretty mouth. "Did I hurt you?" 

He grabs your elbow like he might check. 

You shake your head vehemently. "No, I'm grateful. I don't know why I didn't notice them coming, I'm an idiot, I was–" distracted by you, you think. Your happy smile. You cough. "I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid. You're reckless, and you could've killed yourself by not keeping an eye out, but you're not stupid." 

His chin has a red mark on it. You nibble the inside of your bottom lip unhappily, eyebrows furrowed and then pinching upwards. 

"I'm sorry," you say again, quick and upset with yourself. 

"Are we okay? Are we alive? We're fine, dummy, and it's okay. Don't be sorry, just help me down so we can get our stuff back. I hope the jar of cut peaches didn't smash." 

You both stand with aching knees. You reach for hinge on the shutter to see if you can open it wider and almost lose a finger when it comes crashing down, a cruel metallic screeching sound slicing through the air. You both flinch away from it, eyes screwed closed and hands held upward. 

Steve blinks, lowering his hands slowly. 

You leap to open it again, embarrassed, wanting to do just one thing right today, but it won't budge. Steve stands next to you and fiddles with it. 

"Uh," he says, giving the shutter a good shove. "What did you do?" 

And so begins one of the worst nights of your life. You and Steve spend hours trying to open the shutter. You push it, you beat at it with a heavy saucepan, you even break a knife in half and nearly blind yourself trying to force a gap in the seam. Nothing works, and you and Steve grow more and more afraid. 

It startles you that he doesn't yell. He doesn't blame you once. He keeps trying to get the shutter open, and when hours of attempting to free you proves fruitless, he sits down in the corner of the van and sighs. His head in his hands, you can't see his face, or gauge his feelings. His slumped shoulders tell you he's tired, but tired of you? Is he bubbling, bottling his anger until the last moment. 

You sit down in front of him, your face a little tacky from the occasional self-loathing tear. Your throat aches something fierce. "Don't worry, Steve," you say hoarsely, "I'm gonna keep trying. Just rest, and don't panic. I promise I– I promise I'll get us out." 

Steve scrubs his face. He parts his fingers, looking at you from between them with an unreadable emotion. 

"I'm really sorry," you say, tears welling thick and fat as heavy rain, quick to race down your cheek. You ignore them as Steve holds your gaze.

He takes your hand. He threads your fingers together. He isn't your boyfriend, but he acts like one, and he sounds like one when he asks, "What did I say about sorry?" 

"I know, but this is my fault," you breathe. 

"It's not your fault. It's not. Don't cry," he says. "Let me think of something. I'll think of something." 

He doesn't let go of your hand. You take it as a cue to stay, and you do, depressed beyond words at the reality of your situation. Again, your circumstances ruin the intimacy of his closeness. He tries his best to comfort you, you know, his thumb rubbing tiny slow circles into the back of your hand.

"Maybe we should sleep," he says, "and try again tomorrow. Maybe the hinge will relax, or something." 

You nod numbly. With no reason for a first or second watch, you're expecting Steve to lay flat and sleep without fuss, but he bundles up the spare uniforms inside and leans his head on them, gesturing for you to rest your head on his chest. You do as instructed. Even before he kissed you, you were sleeping in his lap. His chest is no different. You try not to read into it as you settle there, in the same way that you try not to read into his hand on the small of your back, the tip of his ring finger pushed a half of a centimetre into the waistband of your jeans. He probably doesn't know he's doing it. 

You're going to die. You're gonna starve to death in here, with him, your boyfriend who isn't your boyfriend, having survived hordes and herds, malnutrition, infection, and a boat load of moderate to severe injuries.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper. You shake under Steve's hands. 

"It's not your fault." 

"It is. I shut it. I got it stuck." 

"But why were we in here?" he asks. 

"Because… the herd?" 

"But why were we in here?" he asks. "Why did we come this way? Why did we follow this road?" 

You sigh into his chest, "No, Steve." 

"I asked you to come this way with me. I didn't even ask. I told you we were coming here and you trusted me. You've never," —he swallows audibly— "said no. This is my fault. It's all me." His voice doesn't harden, exactly, but it pulls taut and tensile. Unbreaking. "Just sleep. I'll get us out of here in the morning, I swear." 

You try to do as he asks. You know he isn't sleeping either, though he might be pretending you are, because he starts to do what he only does when he thinks you've fallen asleep, his hand stroking up and down your back. 

You rub your cheek against his chest. 

"You said…" You lick your lips, wondering if you're making a mistake even as you continue, "You liked Fleetwood Mac." 

"Yeah?" he asks quietly. 

"I liked them too."

"You did?" 

"My favourite one, was, um, You Make Loving Fun."

You don't say it, but it's right there between you —the word love. Even with danger hanging over your heads, a mention of love feels awkward, awkward but exciting in that breathless, silly way. At least on your part. 

"I don't remember that one." 

"That album had all the good ones, that's why. It's forgotten." 

Steve smooths a hand down to your jeans. He creeps ever further, his touch just shy of skin he's never felt before. "Would you sing it for me?" 

"I'm all scratchy." 

"I don't care, I think I'd know it if I heard it. Sing it for me." 

You sing the first line, and the second, shaky with insecurity and off key. It's been so long since you heard music, you barely remember how it goes, though you can't forget the words. You're barely singing your way through the end of the verse, "This feeling follows me wherever I go," when Steve starts to tremble underneath you. 

You look up. His lips are pressed tightly together and his eyes are shining with delight. 

You pout, knowing exactly what he's gonna say. "What?" 

"You sound like a dying cat," he says fondly, bursting into laughter. 

You sit up and turn from him showfully, slapping his thigh as you go. You're not mad, but it's fun to pretend with him, and even better when he says, "Sorry, I'm sorry, don't be mad, you sound like you've swallowed glass, is what I mean. Hon– Y/N." His hands grabbing at your arm, pulling you back in. 

You resist him. 

His grip slackens. "Hey, I didn't mean it. I'm kidding," he says. 

You shake his hand off of you and stand up. Squinting, you creep toward the door, and you can barely see it in the poor lighting of the truck, but you read it aloud anyways. "Door locks from behind. Do not forget your key." 

"What?" 

You try the handle. 

You hadn't bothered because it was locked from the outside. But this is a food truck, and it would be a fire hazard to lock closed with no escape. The door opens stiffly, but it opens, and the cool air of the night kisses your cheeks. 

"Oh, thank god," Steve says. 

You prop it open with your foot even if you're sure it won't lock. "Do you really think I sound like a dying cat?"

Steve nods firmly, already sitting up. "But I thought that might be cruel if we died here together. Hence the backtrack." 

You and Steve climb down out of the truck and search for your stuff in the dark. The jar of peaches has survived, as well as your favoured pack of playing cards, which you'd envisioned strewn about the street. 

"Here," he says, pressing it into your hand. He turns his flashlight on and shines it downward, looking for the rest of your canned food. 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

You really do like him, love him, even. You're grateful for him, and the euphoria of knowing you're not doomed after all rises fast. But he's a dick. You can be a dick back. 

"Hey, Steve?" you ask sweetly. He turns, torch in hand, looking pleased. "Hey. I was thinking, now we aren't going to die and all, I could teach you some games? Gin rummy?" 

"Sure." 

"We can bet using the jar of peach slices. I'll go easy on you, though, 'cos you've never played it." 

He smiles at you. "Thanks, Y/N." 

You smirk to yourself and step forward to pick up a stray can of spaghetti shapes. "No problem," you say under your breath. "No problem at all." 

—

"

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 37

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You lazily eat the penne, noodle by noodle, from the plate balanced on your stomach. The evening air cools as Suzanne sits close by, her pasta mostly untouched as she sips non-alcoholic wine from a glass.

Lloyd has been elusive since his return, though you've heard some telltale banging. He continues to haunt you like some Poe horror.

"I couldn't do it," Suzanne trills, "I can barely stand more than an hour with the jackass and I get paid to."

"Mmm, yeah, wasn't exactly my first choice, but accidents happen. Actually, you know him, no such thing as an accident, more a lack of accountability."

"Oh, ew," she scrunches her nose, "he didn't strike me as the baby type." 

"Me either which is why… well, nevermind."

You spear another noodle and carefully angle it past your lips, trying not to dribble any sauce. It's been a while since you had someone you could just talk to. Dottie is a great support but she's still Lloyd's mother.

"What?" She prompts as she leans her chin in her hand.

"Oh, you know, I'm the mother. Means I'm gonna be doing all the work. And why? Because he thought it would be fun… he gets to have the shiny bright moments and I'll be changing diapers and cleaning up puke."

"Typical," she snarls. "Never likes to get his hands dirty."

She takes another sip of wine and she slowly puts the glass down. Her lips slant as a thought sparks in her eyes. She points at you and clicks her tongue.

"What happened with the mustache?"

"What do you mean?"

"He shaved. Months ago. Was that you?"

You cackle as you recall that. It was rather amusing to witness the shame and panic of his drunken mistake. You rest your fork against the rim of the plate.

"Did it himself. Got blitzed off his face and just, shoop, gone," you make a motion above your lip, "idiot."

“Ha, wow. Damn. I was hoping you had a bit of vengeance on the prick. I mean… you still could. Wait til he falls asleep…” she smirks, “you know once, were were on a flight and I probably could’ve done it.”

“I’m already expecting one baby, I don’t need another,” you scoff. “Here, can you get this?”

You lift the plate and hold it out to her. She’s quick to take it and puts it beside her own. You plant your hands on the sides of the chair and grunt, pushing yourself up with excruciating effort. You manage to sit forward, breathless.

“Jeez, you need help?” She hovers near you.

“Probably,” you struggle to turn your legs over the edge.

“Is it really that miserable?” She asks.

“What? Being with him?”

“I mean, that too, but being pregnant,” she offers her arm.

“Eh, it’s just the cherry on top of an already stacked shit sandwich.”

“I see why he’s with you,” she snorts, “you are both very creative. Disgustingly so.”

You roll your eyes and grab onto her arm. Before you can stand, you hear your name. Not ‘peaches’, not ‘baby face’, not ‘sweet cheeks’, your name. Lloyd stomps out, waggling his finger.

“Suzanne, step away from my wife.”

“Huh?’

 Suzanne twists to face Lloyd, “Christ, I’m helping her.”

“No, you’re not,” he storms down, shoulder back, nostrils flaring, “she’s not supposed to be walking around.” He comes up to you and puts his palm up to stop you, “I’ll take care of her.”

“Lloyd, I can make it inside.”

“The doctor said–”

“God, I know what the doctor said,” you hiss.

“So listen. Neither of us wanna end up back in the hospital, now do we?”

You sigh. You and Suzanne share a look. You recognise the dull twinkle in her eye. You’re kindred spirits. Cursed with the nuisance of this man, only she gets to walk away.

“So, Suzanne,” Lloyd plants a hand on your shoulder as he faces his colleague, “you on your way out?”

“Um, I guess, but–”

“That’s great, I don’t need to show you out, do I?”

She smiles dryly and tilts her head, “not at all. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Lloyd sputters.

“Oh yeah, we’re doing lunch, right, babe?” She looks at you expectantly.

Your brows lift and you take a second to register what she’s doing. You nod. “Uh, yep, yeah, that’ll be great.”

“Peaches, you should be relaxing. You’re all tense,” Lloyd squeezes your shoulder, “I can feel it–”

“So that probably means she needs a nice back rub, huh,” Suzanne suggests with a devilish glint in her eye.

Lloyd clucks, “yeah, I guess it does so… leave.”

Suzanne chuckles. She raises her palms and backs away. “Fine, I’ll fuck off. For now.”

Lloyd sneers at her as she slowly turns and she struts off proudly, fishing in her pocket until her car chirps and unlocks. You watch her get in and deflate, just a little. It’s just you and him. Again.

You shrug Lloyd’s hand away and rub your stomach, keeping one hand on the lounger. As Suzanne backs down the driveway, you issue a glum sigh. Without her to distract you, you feel ever pang and pinch in your muscles.

“Alright, where to?” Lloyd faces you.

“Huh?”

“Sofa, bath… bed?” He winks, “I think I could help ease the tension.” 

“Just… inside,” you mutter, “please.”

He pauses. You avoid his gaze as you look out across the yard. It’s only then the heavy epiphany settles over you. This place is a prison. It’s the last place you’ll live for the rest of your life. With him and soon his child. You’ll never be without a warden to keep you in line.

“Alright,” he bends and scoops you up, slowly, with effort. You feel horrible as he turns cautiously, steps stunted and stiff. 

“Lloyd, you’re going to hurt yourself doing this,” you hook your arm around his shoulders and try to ease the weight.

“I’m fine,” he grunts as he gets to the door.

You reach for the door to open it. He turns and sidles in awkwardly. It’s a tight shuffle but he makes it inside. He carries you back to the living room and sits you on the couch. He stands, cheeks tinged and forehead sweaty.

“Tea?” He offers.

“No,” you recline with a groan, “why are you being nice?”

“I’m your husband.”

“You were yelling at me an hour ago.”

“Because I’m worried.”

“About me or the baby?”

He sniffs and grips his hips, “both.”

“Eh, sure,” you dismiss him flatly, “I just wanna lay her. Alone.”

“Well that’s not going to happen,” Lloyd states.

“Of course,” you grumble.

“I am going to rub your back and you’re going to relax. You need to, peaches, for yourself as much as the kid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter. “Really, don’t bother–”

He pushes you up, grasping your shoulders as he angles onto the couch behind you. He sits between you and the arm, hooking his leg around you as he settles in. He rolls his thumbs into you, forcing a moan from your lips as you muscles contract in response.

“Feels good?” He asks.

“Erm,” you refuse to indulge him.

“Come on, baby face.”

You’re quiet as you hang your head forward. You’ll enjoy it but you don’t have to admit it. You hug your stomach as he slides his hands down your back, pressing his knuckles into each knot.

“Do you always have to ruin everything?” You ask at last.

“What?”

“Chase away everyone. What am I not allowed to have friends?”

“What–”

“If you don’t want me… like this,” you gesture helplessly, “you have to give me something, anything, that doesn’t make me absolutely miserable.”

He exhales and his hands keep moving. You let your head drift to the side as you laze into his touch.

“You don’t know Suzanne. She’s… well, she’s a lot like me.”

“Funny, cause she said the same about me.”

“Oh, really,” he scoffs.

“Yeah, think you’ve rubbed off on me.”

“Hell yeah I have,” he snickers, “rub off to you and over you, on you…”

“Would you– do you ever just stop?”

He hums and puffs out through his nose, “alright, peaches, you’re right. You can’t be all alone all the time. Just…keep those walls up. You got good instincts.”

“Mmm, yeah, just bad luck.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen #drabble #au #series #unexpected #the gray man

[mediumgayitalian]

I know I’ve been liking all your works on here but I just have to say I LOVE ALL OF THEM SO MUCH <333 they’re just so silly and goofy /pos

Out of curiosity, have you done your take on the “3 days in the infirmary” yet? And if not, do you ever plan to?

THANKS!

thank you teehee silly and goofy is my specialty. and thank you SO MUCH for asking bc the thing is that i’ve been trying?? like i have three drafts barely started right now and i can’t tell which one, if any, are promising. would y’all mind telling me (honestly, i promise i can handle criticism when i ask for it) might be something you would read, and if not, what you like/dislike? thank you in advance!! and they’re rough drafts so please forgive any poor formatting or grammar/spelling. words like /this/ mean they’re italicized btw.

okay, the first one. the idea here is less three days in the infirmary and more pining nico post the three days in the infirmary, but he keeps thinking back to it. here is one such moment:

please let me know what works/doesnt et cetera!!!

okay next one. this one is more classic, it’s literally the three days in the infirmary except whoops nico was exhausted as shit and slept through them entirely and now will is making him stay another three for observation. and they fall in love obviously. featuring in william-andrew-never-shuts-up-for-even-three-seconds solace bc i love him.

i think this one is the most promising tbh but i could be wrong. mostly i just love motormouth will. lmk what u think!!

okay and the last and possibly most iffy one. this one is actually the thing that yanked me full force back into this fandom, creatively, bc the idea wormed itself into my brain and i couldn’t get it out.

i haven’t worked on it in like a month and a half bc i’m nervous people will despise it, but the general idea is that nico gets to the infirmary and will has an open crush on him, like he doesn’t say it but even nico is not that oblivious, and nico has to face, for the first time, someone who is not even slightly ashamed about their sexuality. it’s less of a solangelo fic and more of a nico fic tbh.

i ditched it bc i don’t think anyone will read it, but if you would, tell me please! i’m an attention whore and very motivated when i know i’m getting attention lol.

anyways! please tell me your thoughts! reblog or comments are great, but if you’re shy my anon asks are open :D my DMs too!!!

#i don’t have ALTs on any of these pictures #but if you need them please please tell me and i’ll remedy that immediately #ask #writing #i have no idea how to tag this truly #solangelo #longpost #long as hell post lmfao

[leclsrc]

can I request prompt number 10 with Carlos Sainz

kissy spells – cs55

genre: fluff, drabble, 1k celebration

10: a hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking — where neither person thinks twice about it.

“—and we’re all just determined to have a productive weekend where our strategies go as planned.” You finish, smiling slightly at the interviewer who nods along, totally invested. You’ve woefully been assigned to answer engineer questions for this network your stress has blurred the name of, seated beside Carlos who chips in with his occasional two cents.

You can’t say you’re not grateful, though: this is the most alone time you’ve had with your boyfriend in weeks.

It’s honestly criminal. Turns out, the sweet spot between keeping things private and wanting to always be together is absurdly hard to pinpoint and stay on. The only pros are you’ve become creative at crafting excuses to sneak off. Oh, and two new sex positions for tight spaces (who knew?) But apart from those, it’s an endless repeat of hiding, pretending, ignoring.

Which is why, despite the fact that you’d rather be working than talking about working, you consider this to be a moment of refuge. Both of you have been so unbelievably, dizzyingly tired lately, it helps to just be in each other’s presence. Your knees touch slightly, yours bare to Carlos’ denim as you fiddle the hem of your shorts and listen to him talk. After this, it’s back to work, your fifth year now of still coming to a mutual decision of “let’s not go public just yet.” 

The interviewer says both your names and you smile at the camera, holding for a few seconds before she waves a signal and you relax, exhaling. You turn your stool toward Carlos and offer a smile, one that translates telepathically into I want to die and you’re coming with me. Like always, your telepathic conversations click; he raises a brow, which means I don’t even get a choice?

None, you say through a slight shake of your head. You both laugh, always amazed at the love you share that leads to the moments of connection like this. He smiles again, narrows his eyes, turns his head to the side a bit. I love you. You need not say or do much. You know he knows what you say back; he’d know even if you made no change to your expression at all.

Still caught in your bubble, you both jolt out when the producer pipes up monotonously. “Uh… you guys can go. Your segment’s over.”

“Oh,” you say. “Oh. Okay. Thanks so much. I’ve got a meeting with some other engineers from—so yeah.” You shuffle awkwardly off the stool, unaware that you and Carlos had just been mindlessly talking while they waited for you to leave.

Carlos follows suit, shaking their hands. “I need to go discuss with Mattia, so. Thanks again, everyone.” You pick up your wallet and clipboard, which you’d left to rest on a nearby table; Carlos takes his Gatorade beside them. Caught in the sudden rush of having to leave, your minds both exhausted from the stress, you just offer a quick smile as Carlos leans in and pecks you goodbye.

You kiss back quickly and smile. He does it all the time, especially when you’ve just slept over, or when he drives you both around. You don’t think twice, turning around and walking toward the rest of the paddock and prepping for your meeting.

The interviewer and producer stare at you both, then each other. They’re slack-jawed. Did Carlos and his engineer just kiss? And then… walk away? Not even acknowledging the kiss? “Did you get that?”

“I did. It’s on the camera.”

“Okay.” She pauses. “You owe me ten bucks.”

#f1 #leclsrc1000 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader

[drdemonprince]

if you ever have the time and space to answer this i'd be very thankful

how can i take any let downs by friends less personal and continue giving people chances/inviting them in and being vulnerable without hurting myself/gettung hurt in the process? i'm guessing the answer is to find a balance, but are there ways to go about it easier? no matter how much i try to communicate and and manage expectations... i appreciate my friends greatly, but still i often feel let down when they cant come to things that are important to me though i understand that things can happen and theres usually reasons for not being able to make something and i am not their priority number one in a system that exhausts all of us- it just keeps happening and i don't want to grow bitter and alone but cherish the people in my life and trust they are trying their best

I think you can start by practicing being more flaky and unreliable and more reliant up on your friends' grace as well! When we feel resentful, it is often a sign that we are doing far too much, and not having our needs cared for. I used to be one of the most reliable mother fuckers around -- it was my senior superlative, actually, Most Reliable! ha! -- and I resented just about everyone for being less put together, less likely to follow through, less prone to doing what they said and saying what they'd do than me. I was a bitter little Type A overachieving cunt who considered myself superior to everyone (in part because my hyper literal Autistic ass believed that if you said you were going to do something, that meant you absolutely Had to Do It and Why Would Anybody Lie about a thing like that?)

Today I am a fuckin MESS and I am a much better person for it. I amble up just barely on time, I cancel plans, I forget things, I tell someone I can't make it even if in the most literal sense I could but I don't feel like it -- and many of my friends are tired, spent, fuzzy brained exhausted messes too! And it's fine! I have some friends that I regularly rely upon to cancel our plans because it frees up a little extra room in my schedule that I always wind up needing. I'm not mad or disappointed in them for bailing, my ass is relieved because I definitely have some shit to get to myself and probably four other people that I'm kinda letting down at the moment. It's not that any of us lack concern for one another, that's just what being a busy adult is in this day and age. We have work and creative pursuits and lots of friends and fucking and exercise and tile to regrout. Shit happens. It's not a big deal if I end up needing to see the movie solo or if we need to reschedule our breakfast date. Shit happens. I have too many actual problems to make a problem out of someone having a hangover and not being able to show up to my birthday or whatever. I missed their birthday last year, but I'll make it there this year, and maybe next time they'll make mine, too. The grace of accepting chaos washes it all away. My friends are my fellow comrades in the fuckin trenches and we each get to make one another's tours a little less miserable by understanding shit's crazy and fucked and that none of it is personal and that at the end, we still love eachother and are doing our best.

With time, may you find that kind of serenity and that ability to just keep on moving in life rather than fixating on the little slights and unpredictable things that will happen whether we fight them or not. Don't read too much into anyone's cancellation of plans or lateness or flakiness. Put your mind toward more interesting problems in your life, ones that some thinking can help solve. Easier said than done, but you'll get there. If my bitter anal retentive ass could become so sloppy and lovingly blase so can you!

[lovelykhaleesiii]

I have been going back and forth in posting this, but want to have a clean slate and a clear mind going forward.

this fandom if I am being honest (and from experience in many others) has been the most roller coaster ride. it has been wonderful and blossoming, yet also, toxic and disheartening…

my current state right now, I feel as though I have been shunned from the community from all corners. stranded alone, with only a few friends (I could count them on one hand) to talk to and to trust.

I have been incredibly disappointed in this fandom by people I had considered friends, people that I believed to be sincere and kind, but over time showed a very different and ugly side.

I am not going to sugar coat this topic anymore… and be warned, I will call you out if need be, from this point on. I always had hopes that as a community mostly dominated by adults, we would act more like it, but it seems not. then accountability is necessary, because this school yard behaviour is not it.

I work most of the time, I barely even have time for a social life on top of personal things… tumblr is not my priority. but when I log in on here, I do wish and intend for this to be a space where I can relax and enjoy myself, to be creative and write and share my ideas and stories. to interact with people, to bond over characters and stories that I don’t ever get the chance to in real life, because I barely meet people with similar interests.

this is meant to be my safe haven.

recently it has been quite the opposite…

I have been gaslit, bullied & ghosted/neglected. as someone who genuinely struggles to put herself out there, I have made attempts that I am thankful for yet hurt by the experiences. putting myself in discord chats only to leave in the matter of a few days…

I have said this before and I will say it again. If I ever say anything to you directly or indirectly, and it doesn’t sit right with you. I am open to talk privately about it. I am not perfect, in fact far from it. I have flaws as do we all. I can make mistakes, I am human. if the matter can be resolved, amazing, if not: I don’t expect to get along with EVERYONE on this hellsite. the block and unfollow options are there for a reason!!!

regardless, I understand everyone has their own personal lives and issues… believe me, I DO! I am a huge advocate for life > tumblr. you need a break, take the break. you want to go on hiatus, go on hiatus. you do not owe anyone in this fandom shit, as I have reminded myself as of late. In saying that, showing people common courtesy and decency is not by any means a stretch, it should be the bare minimum.

showing support to your fanfic authors/gif makers and creators is valid and ideal.

I have taken multiple breaks because the stress and exhaustion from my work and personal life has been a lot, that I am able to remove myself from a situation, to not allow anyone else to suffer my ordeal. your actions have repercussions, and you will be held accountable.

to wrap it all up, I will continue to write my little, silly stories, I will continue to read fics. However, I have of recent been so turned off by some of the people in this community, that if I’m being honest (which I also strongly advocate for, and believe I owe whoever read this that), I have no energy to interact with people that have crossed me and made me feel less of the person I am at this point in time. my friends who I respect and admire dearly, know who they are, I don’t need to tell them twice.

when I feel comfortable with this fandom, my interactions may change, but for now. I very much enjoy my small number of friends.

thank you to those who read this entire mouthful, I genuinely appreciate the small things and taking the time out of YOUR day to read and listen to little old me, says a lot.

please take care of yourselves, and I hope that we can create a better more wholesome fandom space.

love always, Hel 🤍

#rant #personal #thank you to anyone who reads this entire thing #I hope you have a wonderful fucking day

[libraford]

I think you’re landing on something great because it always feels like the people who believe in pizza shop child adrenachrome rings are the angriest about D&D and cosplay with no self awareness

I've been thinking about this also because we had that talk about human trafficking and predators/groomers being part of the cycle of moral panic, and the rhetoric of it is inescapable where I am. This is an area with a lot of moms who both work and are primary caregivers to children- they're exhausted. Fathers are exhausted, too because a full time job barely pays the Bill's anymore. Two earner households dont thrive the way they used to.

So I can see where the tired would meet with the 'need to protect' and how someone in that position might easily believe that, for example: the local mall is run by a ring of child traffickers and the yearly fashion show they put on at Macys to raise money for the children's hospital is how they lure unsuspecting children into the rotation. (A thing that has been said to me, even though participating models have never actually disappeared). And, therefore, never let your kid ever go to the mall ever. Lock the doors. Put a tracker on them.

These are people who have degrees. They're not stupid. But they are tired, and it wouldnt surprise me if a lack of a creative outlet was also a factor.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Difference of Opinions Update!

Thank you all so incredibly much for supporting Difference of Opinions Part 1! I never imagined it would get the kind of response it did and all of the love I have gotten for it has inspired my two-part sequel as well as a prequel. 💕

I also appreciate everyone's patience while I work on these. However, I am happy to announce that Part 2 of Difference of Opinions will be posted on Monday, June 26! 😊 Those of you who have asked will be tagged and those who would still like to be can reblog and/or comment on this post of Part 1 and I can add you. Or feel free to DM me!

And as an appreciation for everything, I will drop a little tease of Part 2 below the cut as well as a look at my design for Reader's spidersuit and an explanation of her powers! (There will be more about all of this in Part 2 and the prequel)

Thank you all so much and please feel free to send me any asks, DMs, or comments about this series because I would love to talk about it more! (it also helps keep my creative juices flowing 😉)

Sneak Peek at Part Two:

The glitching was getting worse. By the time you made it to your lab on the other side of the building, it was happening every thirty seconds or so. You stumbled through the door and crashed into one of the computer consoles as you lost your balance. Every inch of your body ached and felt as fragile as glass. It seemed as if the chemical bonds that held your atoms together were about to shatter leading to you basically vaporizing down to the atomic level. Which you guessed was what was about to happen.  Another glitch hit causing you to crumple to the floor. Once your body realigned itself, you tried to climb back to your feet but you just didn’t have the strength to anymore. Instead, you rolled over to your stomach and began to drag yourself over to your desk. It wasn’t far, but by the time you reached it, you were barely able to lift yourself up to reach the hidden compartment underneath. You pressed your thumb to the biometric lock and gave a huge sigh of relief when the drawer popped open. Reaching inside, you pulled out the small cloth bag and held it against your chest. You knew you had to hurry before another glitch occurred, but you were so exhausted that your fingers were clumsy and fumbled as you tried to untie the bag. It took about three times as long as it should have, but you finally managed to open it up and you slid the contents into your hand.  It had been over a year since you had last held the red amulet in your hand but it instantly made you feel stronger. Running your thumb across the spider carved in the stone, you couldn’t help but smile. This little piece of your homeworld would hopefully ward off the glitches long enough to send your message.  Sliding back to the floor and laying on your side, you pressed the amulet to your lips as you closed your eyes and concentrated. Your eyes rolled back in your head behind your eyelids and you felt your mind slip into the space where the intricate web of dimensions existed. Once you sensed who you were looking for, you whispered, “Hobie, I know you can hear me. I need your help. Please. Come get me before it’s too late. I just want to help Miles. I promise. I–” A glitch cut you off and you dropped the amulet as your body was once again torn apart and reassembled by this dimension trying to arrange your atoms to fit its unique configuration. As your body somehow managed to right itself once more, a small sob of pain slipped from your lips. Whatever strength or stability you had gotten from the amulet was now gone, and you felt yourself returning to your body as you no longer had the strength to continue reaching out across the dimensions. It was all over. This lab that you had built with Miguel and spent countless hours lovingly by his side was going to be your final resting place.  You were about to die alone and abandoned.

About Reader's Spider:

Reader's Spider name is Spider-Gazer (nickname = Gaze). She comes from a dimension where there are no firm lines or edges and everything is slightly blurred instead. However, this slight blurring of lines has given her the power to gaze through the barriers of the Acracnoid Humanoid Poly Multiverse and communicate and see into other dimensions. When this happens, her eyes roll back into her head and become completely white. Yet if she is wearing her mask, the spider eyes which are usually white turn the same glowing orange as the paths between multiverses.

She also has an amulet that was passed down for generations in her family along with the legend of the one who would be gifted the power of the spider and use it to bring peace to this and every universe. When she holds it, it helps magnify and focus her powers (since it comes from her universe, it also does not have firm edges).

Taglist: @zebralover, @covenlovenn, @amecchii, @gram-cracker24, @keenzinemugstudent, @cubaton1551, @multifan-bitch, @princessbarnes19, @horneybeach1, @mellovespasta, @corpsebridenightamare, @leiosvnii, @littlefreakymunson, @newearth5s, @wokpokerface, @nickey-diano, @scoobdoobdoob, @froyoshow, @erensbbg, @nataliahemsworth, @bontensbabygirl, @freeingrebels, @g-on-ef, @123lmao123, @midnight-the-shadow-wolf, @elizabeth-von-winken-universe, @namjooningera, @owaowaowawa, @mizu-san, @daemonlover

#update #difference of opinions #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #across the spiderverse #across the spider-verse #atsv #across the spider verse #oscar isaac #f!reader #spider-man #spiderman #spider-man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #spider-man 2099 x reader #across the spider-verse spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #spider man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spiderverse

[journey-to-the-attic]

Hi Kin. I wanted to ask, how did you manage things like writer's block or creative burnout while writing JTTA? I'm midway through a longfic now and it's kind of exhausting. I feel like I'm whining but I barely get any comments or asks or anything.

hi anon! honestly i'm not sure if i was the right person to ask this, because i... kind of didn't? as in, i didn't really have these problems - boring answer, i know!

i got lucky because i hit a sweet spot where the base story and characters were strong, but with just enough gaps in plot, worldbuilding, development, etc. such that the momentum of filling everything in carried me through the whole process. but there were definitely a lot of occasions where i sat there thinking "okay i have no idea what to do now"

in those cases, often i had to just step back and ruminate on it for a little while - i've pretty much constantly got little ideas bouncing around my head, and sometimes they hit each other like snowballs and form into more fully-fledged plot points, scenes, dialogue, so on. i try to keep track of these in notes apps, personal discord channels, etc, and dip into them if i'm stuck on something!

not sure if your fic is for obey me, but this could still apply even if not - with all the pop quizzes and devilgrams that put the characters in a bunch of new contexts, it's helpful seeing how that character's static vs dynamic traits persist/change depending on them, and often that'll give you inspiration as well. depending on what you've got available, you could browse through source material, or brainstorm aus, whichever you enjoy most

i'm really not sure HOW i've stuck with obey me for so long, but somehow it's just stuck with me. i don't remember being so invested in it before jtta, so that's probably why, but i just really love these guys, and i suppose that's why i never burnt out of it? i think it was also because i knew what story i wanted to tell, and i really wanted to make sure ik got her happy ending, and that carried me through as well

seriously, though - do take breaks. every writer's mileage varies, so take a step back whenever you need to. writing fics should be fun! sometimes it does feel like a chore, and it becomes more like 'the only thing i hate more than writing is not writing', but it happens to all of us. sometimes you've just got to rest until your second wind comes along

in terms of comments and such... yeah, it's a tough one! the unfortunate thing is that a vast majority of readers - even if they really enjoyed your writing! - won't leave a comment. don't take this as a direct reflection on your writing! often the reader can't think of what to say, is too shy, or quite simply forgot

again though... i'm not sure if i'm the best person to ask for advice here! i started publishing jtta without much expectation for an audience, given the genre of game it's written for, so any attention was more a nice surprise than anything. i suppose that, later on, when the fic was more well-established, i did start holding some expectation of response - and it really is tough when you don't get as much of one as you were hoping for

i've seen people talking about how the ask culture on tumblr has died down a lot in recent times, so i'm sure you're not the only one feeling like this! all i can suggest is trying to find more friends (mutuals?) and... networking, i guess? i've seen advice saying to share your fic within communities of writers, too

i can't honestly say if these things'll work, because i'm very bad about interacting with a wider fandom in anything - i usually keep to myself, so often i don't have much of an expectation for how and when people come chat. as in real life, i'm only a chatterbox when approached first haha

i'm not sure how helpful this has been, but i'm rooting for you! if you'd like to share your fic here, please do - though i understand if that's something you'd rather keep to yourself as well.

creating things is a joy - it might take some searching to find a circle, but the beauty of the internet is that you will, somewhere out there! wishing you the best ^^

#answering asks #anon asks

[n7punk]

2023 Writing Wrapped!

I think I forgot to do this last year but I was a little burnt out at the time. I had so much fun writing this year I wanted to do a little retrospective/celebration for it (which I encourage everyone to do! Even if you wrote just one fic, take a second to congratulation yourself for accomplishing it).

I wrote 34 fics and updated 118 times this year. Almost half of those were for the Children of the Crystal series (16 fics) but that series was so fun and clocks in at 121k so I'm totally okay with that. If anything, that's a bit of equalizing, because I know my fics are a lot longer on average than most people's since I write a lot of longer AUs (quick math off the top of my head is about half my fics are longer AUs) so now my words-per-fic average is probably a bit closer to usual lol. Actually that got me curious and my average is 20,176 which is honestly lower than I was expecting but still almost certainly higher than average since I've seen a lot of profiles without a single fic that long. Okay I'm a nerd and I did the math and it was only 21,041 before this year which is way more surprising since I really would have thought it was more.

Anyway, I posted 610k words this year between all my fics (though I wrote more in WIPs and upcoming projects). I had so much fun with a lot of the fics I did this year. Children of the Crystal is still a stand out for me, but I'm SO proud of 'the long way down' and I spent the first half of the year pretty feral for each idea as I tore through Hurricane Adora, As Many Lives As It Takes (To Be With You), Superzero, City of Angels, Trade Today For Tomorrow, and CotC of course. February through August I averaged 12 updates a month which is. insane. I updated daily for 12 days in a row in July/August for CotC, and I spent most of that fic series updating every other day.

A lot of that creative energy came from the health stuff that has been bogging me down for a few years (and especially last year) improving, and though I'm still dealing with that, I'm doing a lot better and it has really felt like rediscovering my creative passion. I had a span from like March-ish trhough August I called my "unhinged era" between how feral I was for my ideas, how much I was updating, and just how wild some of those ideas were lol. My slow down at the end of the year came from starting a new job that was very demanding and especially exhausting with my health issues, plus health issues for the rest of my family, but I've still been averaging updating once or twice a week since, so I'm happy with that given everything that has been going on.

Now let's get to the two big ones.

Writing streaks: Definitely not for everyone, but for me they're really motivating and 100% the reason I was able to keep up momentum these last three months with work. I wrote every single day this year. I still can't believe that. Sure, some days it was literally 50 words at the end of the day when I was exhausted, but I also had my highest single-word count day since I started recording them this year at 12,738 on July 18th when I was writing CotC. My previous record was 94 days in a row. 364 is a huge leap. I don't know where I'm going to go with my streak from here. On one hand, it was hugely motivating. On the other, you always want to be careful to prevent burnout. For now, allowing myself to count days where I barely do anything as long as I engage with my WIP seems like a good middle ground since it keeps me motivated and connected to what I'm writing while letting me mostly take time off. I'm exploring more creative hobbies like painting in my free time, though, and as long as I've created that day I don't necessarily feel the need to write, so we'll see if I reconsider my writing streak as a "creating" streak in the future, but for now I'm just going to see how long I can go.

And the final one... my stupid goal.

I can't remember if it was at the end of last year or the start of this one when an anon pointed out how much I had written and I realized I was something like .99% of all Catradora fics on AO3, but my ridiculous goal for this year was to get my fics to 1% of the entire Catradora tag. This goal... I half reached. It takes a bit of explaining.

First, when I first set that goal, I think needed to write twenty-something more fics to reach it. Obviously, I well exceeded that goal at 34 fics, but as I was writing, so was everyone else, so the number of fics I needed to write to reach 1% increased. In the sense of my original benchmark, I definitely passed my goal.

Second, as I write this, AO3 shows there are 11,632 Catradora fics. You can consider 1% of this to be either 116 or 117 depending on rounding. I have 117 She-ra fics, but one of those is a Glimbow fic with no mention of Catradora, so that takes me to 116. However, one of those 116 is tagged as Adora & Catra because it's the CotC fic from when they're small children and meeting for the first time. I consider it a Catradora fic, but it's not actually in the tag and thus doesn't contribute to it. As such, I've fallen short at 115/117, but I really do consider this goal complete for this year given that I passed the initial milestone, the rounding makes the final number debatably 116, and I do actually have 116 "Catradora-centric" fics. That said, I'm very aware those are technicalities and I have a special celebration planned for when I actually, officially become 1% of the tag, so look out for that :) It'll be a great way to celebrate the new year. I'm hoping/planning to do it in the next week or two.

The future: I'm ending this year and starting the next trying to clean up a bunch of WIPs since my fic folder is getting a little ridiculous with the (mostly Outside of the War) one-shots I've written one scene or just a description for, which feels like a really fitting way to end off the year, accomplishing my goals and making everything neat and tidy. I have like 7~ to work though, though my actual goal is maybe 4-5 since I don't want to "force" myself to work on an idea if I'm not feeling it at the second, but I also have a longer AU calling my name, and I don't want to ignore an idea interesting me either... so we'll see, but I'm excited for everything I'm working on right now, and that feels really good. I finished last year in kind of a rough place writing/creativity wise, and I'm finishing this year really excited for everything I did and everything upcoming, so that feels pretty great :)

Thank you to everyone who read and commented this year! I know I ran out of energy to keep up with comments a lot, but they really made me smile so much and I appreciate them so much. Some days they were the difference between the motivation to write 1000 words versus 50. Thanks for another great year!

#fic rambling #ficmeta #mylife

[rpgpolls]

Happy Independent TTRPG Month!

July is Independent TTRPG Month and RPGPolls is joining in on the fun in celebrating small press games that are just as if not more fun than the famed Seattle game.

This is a little overdue but I have been exhausted between work, my GM-ly duties, and some projects I have going.

Non D&D focused polls to come but for now enjoy a list of small press games I enjoy under the read more. Happy Indie RPG Month and happy rolling!

Dungeon Crawl Classics (and its variants) - An absolutely gonzo OSR fantasy game and what I currently run at my table. Cannot recommend it enough.

Shadowdark RPG - A wonderful bridge between the OSR school of play and 5e. Don't know how available it is since the kickstarter just finished but I ran Andrew Kolb's Neverland using it and had a blast.

13th Age - A super simple d20 system made by some of the devs who worked on 3.5 and 4e. Plays like a wonderful blend of the two and makes natural rolls more important beyond the usual 1s and 20s. Super fun.

Fantasy AGE (and its variants) - A 3d6 system that's a lot of fun. Popularized by Wil Wheaton's Titansgrave setting/game. I feel like it's magic system is a little lacking but overall its a fast paced and creativity focused game.

The Apocalypse Engine - For the sake of simplicity and brevity, all PbtA games will be counted under here. Requires a lot of player creativity and buy in but overall super fun and versatile. An indie darling to be sure.a

Swords and Wizardry - One of the big three systems that basically started the OSR movement (the other two being OSRIC and Labyrinth Lord). Unfortunately I only played this system briefly and without understanding what it stood for. 5e came out like a month after I started to the campaign was quickly converted. Would love to revisit it.

The Cortex System - Mostly used this to play the Serenity RPG. It's a decent system and good for what it is but the combined die types as stats doesn't work with me.

GURPS - What Fallout was originally going to be based off of, GURPS is a monster of a generic system. If you can think of it, it's probably got a rule for it. Works best when you narrow it down and can be a little complicated. You may have better luck with

Savage Worlds - A more streamlined generic roleplaying game with tons of pre-made settings. The card initiative mechanic is a refreshing take on the mechanic and the bennie system is so much fun. Full props.

Crash Pandas, Honey Heist, Goblin Quest and anything by Grant Howitt - Solid gold, great, light, comedic games that are guaranteed to make for a night of fun. No notes. Goblin Quest in particular is heavily underrated imo.

We Are But Worms - Meets the bare definition of a roleplaying game. Play it constantly with my friends. All we have to do is look at each other, say one word, and the game gets going.

I could go on. There's a metric ton of RPGs that I've played and even more that I haven't but would love to. Fiasco (I can never get anyone to play with), Blades in the Dark, Candela Obscura, Mork Borg, the Black Sword Hack and so many others with more catching my eye every day. So take the remainder of this month (and beyond) to explore the community and play something you haven't - or maybe even never planned to. This hobby has so much more to offer than WotC and Paizo and so much more to offer than just roll high on a d20 in a fantasy game. Get out there and start rolling the bones (or not in some cases!) And have fun!

#indie ttrpg #roleplaying games #rpg polls #not a poll #ttrpgs #tabletop roleplaying games #ttrpg #independent ttrpg month

[shsl-fander]

Logince Week Day 4

Prompt: Block by burnout

Tw: Overworking, lack of sleep, burn out, insecurities, harsh criticism

Pairing: Roman/Logan

Description: Roman's been working himself to the max for the past week but despite all his efforts, he absolutely hates everything hes making. He finds himself exhausted, drowning in his insecurities. Logan has to come and talk some sense into him and let him sleep.

Read on ao3 or under read more

@loginceweek2024

Roman slammed his head against his desk, his groaning muffled as his face stayed against the wood, frowning deeply. Everything he was producing was awful, nothing great like he should be making, nothing good enough, nothing that made him deserve the title of creativity.

He lacked the energy needed to work his best, and without the energy motivation him to strive, Roman took longer to do each small project, leaving him to work non stop the few days before Thomas needed it from him.

Typically Roman would ask Logan to help him brainstorm when the negative thoughts were clouding his brain. Ever since he'd let Logan know about some of his insecurities when they had tried that whole puppet thing, the logical trait had made a huge effort to be less critical on his work. Additionally, he'd been including Roman in many of his studies as well.

It made Roman feel appreciated, as opposed to worrying if he met up to Logan's expectations before. Logan was just so perfect, Roman adored him and everything he represented, he wanted not only to match that level but also to impress him, to make Logan love Roman too.

However, he couldn't ask Logan for help right now since Logan was so busy with his own work, he surely wouldn't have any interest in Roman's struggles.

He just felt so tired, the weight of his own eyelids feeling heavy on his face as he attempting to stay awake. He'd barely even gotten anything done, and reading all the stuff he had written made Roman feel so awful about himself he'd wished to curl up in a ball and just quit right then and there. Why couldn't he just make something incredible, he'd done it before?! A prince is supposed to excell all the time, not be pathetic and drown in his own self hatred then once in a while create something spectacular.

Roman had nearly drifted off to sleep, slumping over on his desk when he heard gentle knocks coming from his door. A familiar knock pattern, two short knocks followed by one longer knock, only one person was sophisticated enough to think the personalize the way they knocked in a way that felt professional for them : Logan.

Roman jolted up, springing out of his seat, slurring his words as he responded, "You may enter!"

Roman ran his hand over his face, attemping to wake himself up enough to where his royally fucked up state wouldn't be too obvious to his visitor. "Thought you were still workin', Specs?" he comments as he watched the door open, biting back his yawn.

Logan shook his head, stepping further into the prince's room. His eyes darted around the place before they focussed on Roman sitting at his desk. "Falsehood, I finished around an hour ago," he corrected, "I assumed you were finished as well and was wondering if you wanted to compare, to see how my data would match your writing?" he offered.

Roman felt a wave of panic rush over him, he frantically slammed his laptop shut, chuckling uncomfortably. "Oh! Right, that! Obviously that was the plan, as that's what we've been doing for ages! Ahah..."

Logan blinked, "Correct," he stated simply, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Are you alright, Roman? You seem tense," he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Roman bit his tounge, while it was clear Logan cared about his wellbeing and all, he couldn't just admit to Logan that he wasn't finished. He wasn't going to make himself look stupid in front of him like that.

"Roman, you do not need to lie to me, I can tell you're stressed," Logan sighed, setting his folders down on the ground and walking closer to Roman, standing by his desk. "What's bothering you?"

Roman relented, slumping over on his chair, "I've been working non stop for the past week and yet I have absolutely nothing to show for it!" he grumbled, "I've made like 7 different full drafts but I keep scrapping them become they're all royally awful and I can't put something like that up, what will everyone think of me?! And I'm just so tired but I can't be tired without anything good to show from it," he rambled, just spilling out his guts.

Roman took a deep breath," and the absolute last thing I wanted to do was dissapoint you, Teach," he admitted quietly.

Logan's eyes grew wide and he frowned deeply, "Do you really think that lowly of me?" he asked.

Roman's head shot up and he frantically shook his hands, "What?! No I don't think lowly of you, I think the exact opposite-" he started to defend himself but Logan interrupted him.

"I meant assuming you could dissapoint me, you could never dissapoint me," Logan insisted, reaching out to touch Roman's hand before he froze, blushing slightly. He decided upon resting his hand next to it instead, "Especially not with something like this. However, I assume you're being extremely hard on yourself right now, I'm sure you're looking at your work with an unfair lense."

Logan cleared his throat before he spoke, hoping to god that the racing of his heartbeat and warmth spreading across his face wasn't obvious to Roman and also didn't mean anything about the crush he had been trying to deny. "I formally apologize if I don't say it enough, but you really impress me Roman, consistently. It saddens me to see you look at your own creativity with such harsh eyes, but it's even worse to think I would think of you like that as well."

Logan shook his head," I can't believe I'm saying this, but the work can wait, I can make adjustments in Thomas's schedule to allow for it. You need to give yourself a break before you burn yourself out any further, " he instructed, spinning Roman's chair to face him.

"You look like you are two minutes away from passing out," he pointed out matter-of-factly.

Roman stammeres, opening his mouth to protest but Logan just stared back at him, giving him an all too familiar look. "I hate when you're right," he muttered, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"I am always right, you just only sometimes admit it," Logan countered with an amused smirk. "Trust me, you'll thank me later when you can start again with fresh eyes and will create something wonderful, I just know it. If you want I can assist you as well, since I should actually be free the majority of tomorrow."

Roman headed over towards his bed, snapping his fingers to conjure up more comfortable clothes that he could sleep in, automatically appearing already wearing them. He flopped down onto his bed, exhaustion already getting the best of him. He'd been too busy non stop writing that he hadn't had a good nights sleep in nearly 2 weeks.

Logan smiled softly, and oh there was this tug at his chest that made him feel as if his stomach was turning. Roman looked so...adorable, which was an odd thought for Logan to have, but he was certainly having it. Not to mention the way his hair was much messier than usual, sticking up in parts, or the way his eyes were blinking closed every few second. It was oddly endearing, and it made Logan just wanted to cup his face and kiss him, feeling the taste of his lips against his own and the way they'd gently press and...

"Ahem, I'll be uhm leaving now," Logan mumbled, his face almost completely pink now. He headed towards Roman's lamp to shut off the light.

"Wait! Specs?" Roman called out drowsily, hugging onto his stitch stuffed animal.

"Yes, Roman?"

Roman glanced up at Logan, a tender smile spread across his face. "Thank you for everything you said today, and thank you for giving me more time."

Logan's gaze softended, "Of course, I care about you Roman, much more than any project, even the most important ones. I'd much rather be months behind schedule than let you hurt yourself, remember that please."

And it was true, Logan deeply cared about Roman, more than he even began to understand. And Roman cared about Logan too, deeper than just wanting to make good content for him.

They loved each other, and soon enough they'd learn to tell each other that. For now, Roman needed to rest, so Logan clicked off his lamp and slowly snuck out of his room, shaking his heas fondly.

He'd always be here to check up on him, always

#sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #logince #tssides #ts logan #ts roman #logince week #logince week 2024 #loginceweek2024 #logince fan fiction #logince fanfic #kai writes #sanders sides fanfiction

[twilightguardian]

Lilith Fairen, Canonseeker, Dishonest Discourse and Fixing RWBY

Preamble

I'm going to preface this by saying I'm not directly part of the RWBY community. You could say I'm a genuine 'hater', or whatever, and that's fine. I'd be considered a legitimate one; though I'll disagree with you about what constitutes hate, as I'll discuss below. Had it been my choice, I'd have only ever interacted with RWBY after a friend showed me the first two volumes and I, an animation student and aspiring novelist, disliked it. I moved on with my life. But circumstances led me to seeking out critical content that soon led me into the Tundra Discord server where I eventually met my boyfriend. I don't interact with RWBY spaces because I don't (didn't?) consider myself a fan, but I do have a morbid fascination with it and all the issues I have with it and how frequent issues crop up. The only time I've ever interacted with broader RWBY fandom directly was when discussing Fixing RWBY on reddit (and that one time where I commented when someone compared RWBY to Digimon Adventure 02. But Digimon is my fandom so I commented as part of my space).

I have had many discussions, mostly negative, but also positive about the show itself and while I never cared to watch further in, I eventually watched V3, and V6-8. V4-5 were skipped due to a migraine one week and group watch party exhaustion the next, respectively, but reviews and criticism videos allowed me to know what goes on in them.

Note that I enjoy critical content as a creative myself, and dabbling in critical content is important for someone learning how to write and create. It's just as important to know why something does not work from a critical perspective to understand why other elements do work while also keeping in mind there is a level of subjectivity. Someone is always going to disagree with you. I lurk the r/RWBYcritics for critical discourse, and occasionally r/RWBY, though the actual discourse there is fewer and far between by comparison, and unless I come across someone mentioning Digimon or FRWBY, I don't comment because I feel it's not my place.

So as you can see, I've been on the outside looking in at aspects of this community and considering where my interests are focused, (Fixing RWBY being an interest) found myself overlooking a clusterfuck of nonsense.

The concept of "Hatedom/HTDM"

I'm old guard. Old fandoms and old engagement from a time when the internet was a wild west and niche anime communities were tiny. The days of geocities and fan shrines and webrings. Never in my life have I come across a fandom that shunned a big chunk of itself, gatekeeping being part of the community and saying that aspect of the fandom wasn't valid. Perhaps I was lucky in that regard, but considering I dabbled in quite a few communities, I doubt it. Digimon Adventure has been around since 1999 and there were a lot of hot-button topics that split the fandom back then. More than 20 years later, you tread these old, rusted buttons and under your feet a sinkhole will open with a warm, bubbling lava plume of strong opinions will greet you as you wake the sleeping beast. But not once was there any sniff of a concept that someone wasn't a 'true' fan because of their opinions and outlooks on the show, and that is just a single example of many.

So to see the RWBY community simmering in barely contained venom over the "critics" is certainly an unwelcome sight to behold, and one that has alarming implications. There has been elements of gatekeeping in all fandoms, sure, but this feels on a new level. To think that it would get so bad that it was even considered to ban an entire related reddit group for having critical opinions is frankly shameful, and yes, I was around for that. Anyone who thought that was correct should feel embarrassed.

This idea that having a negative opinion equals a hateful person is patently absurd. It has been stated time and again that having a negative opinion on something doesn't mean you hate it. There are many different types of people in the world, with different mindsets and different ways of engaging with the things that they enjoy or engage with. Some people do art or fanfiction. Others dissect or criticize. It can be a combination of these things and whether or not the criticism is positive or negative does not negate the passion behind the words. Labelling someone who criticizes the show, even if that is all that they do, a 'hater' or part of the HTDM, comes across as punishment for engaging in fandom in a way you don't approve.

The internet as a whole, and fandom space, doesn't just belong to you and people who think like you. It belongs to everyone who has passion enough to engage with the media they've consumed and there are plenty of options available for those who don't wish to engage with certain methods of fandom discourse and immersion. To dictate who can and cannot participate in the fandom and who is worthy of hate and derision for being an "other" or "outsider" is frankly disgusting. If you think that someone cannot engage in "your" space because you don't like what they have to say, get over yourself and for once in your life, look past your own petulant selfishness. Seriously, we got taught to share space in preschool.

Criticism As Art, Engagement, Growth and Study

Criticism is an invaluable tool in creative spaces, both positive and negative, and there seems to be a growing idea of what constitutes valid criticism or not as simply whether or not it is positive and the thought of that is quite disturbing. You'd think that I wouldn't have to talk about this, but there are quite a number of people who don't fully understand there is more to criticism than being nice and gentle - which can do more harm than good, by the way.

There can be an art to criticism, and there is no one way to criticize something as being the ultimate 'correct' way. Just like there are different art styles, brush stroke techniques, chord progressions, building methods, etc, there are different styles of critique. It's up to the personality of the individual what form that critique manifests and there is no right or wrong way to critique like there is no right or wrong way to paint a painting. But there is something to be said about whether or not the messages you're trying to get across are being understood properly; whether the critiques are in good faith and can be understood to correspond accurately to the work in question, and with that in mind, we can gauge whether or not the criticism is good.

Critique and criticism, whether good or bad, can open up someone to a piece of media they may never have seen or heard before. It is then that they can decide for themselves, as individuals with their own minds and relative free will, whether or not they want to further participate in the consumption of the media being criticized. To get defensive over the idea that negative criticism exists because it influences the sheeple, dimwitted and easily swayed as they may be, is insulting to the intelligence of others, Eren. Individual people can look at a criticism of a work and decide for themselves whether or not the work is something that does not interest them, or is something to look into for themselves and decide whether or not they personally like or dislike it.

On the more creative side, criticism, even - and I'd say especially - negative criticism, is an essential tool to help the growth of the artist. It helps you grow and learn the many mistakes and errors one can have in a piece of media and teach someone to grow past and learn to avoid those pitfalls.

When it comes to criticizing a piece of media like RWBY, some individuals within the RWBY community view the criticism not only as an attack on the quality of the work, but harassment of the writers themselves. This is patently absurd for the simple fact that these men (and woman) are professional writers and criticism goes part and parcel with the job. To show yourself as a professional in the industry you'd want to put your best foot forward, show that you have the skills to write, and be humble enough to take criticism when given and seriously reevaluate your work, no matter how difficult it might be. The concept of 'kill your darlings' applies to beloved concepts and scenes in a story that, while loved, might hinder the story you want to tell. When you are putting something out there, even as a job, the goal should first and foremost be to entertain the audience, and to do that, strive to create the best version of your work that you can. Passion for what you do is such a hard thing to describe, but most can see it when it's there and can point to when it's not.

I don't doubt there are a couple of individuals that do legitimately harass the writers and others directly. We've seen that with other franchises, and individuals like that can be in more than one fandom. But I specify individuals because there is a trend to lump everyone that some people (like Lilith Fairen and Canonseeker) dislike and disagree with as one and the same, as though the 'critics' are a hive mind, and that everyone is connected to every other critic and knows what they do or say.

But dissent allows an honest writer or artist to grow from where they are, a community who strive to help others to make everything better so that the media we consume is better and the artist will be more satisfied and fulfilled. That is the goal. That is what critics strive for, because they can have as much passion for that work as the artist, if not directly for that work itself, then for the desire to see a fellow creative flourish.

Canonseeker's Logical Fallacies

Eren is someone that I consider to be fairly innocent in intent. At least I don't consider him to be outright malicious, unlike Lilith, but the results of his actions in trying to rectify what he considers to be a toxic situation is in fact toxic in and of itself. Eren is someone who views the situation of the critics as being outright harmful, as though fans voicing their dissent is bullying. Fans have no power and very little means to influence the media they're passionate about.

Therefore, when someone criticizes a work, the main audience for their criticisms are other fans, people whom they can engage with and share in their frustrations and worries. There is always a chance that the writer or some creative can see their complaints, but it is a low chance, and often little in the ways of rectifying the situation other than in the future. When Eren criticizes the 'critics' he attacks their character rather than the ideas they present. When called out on it, he never acknowledges his own faults, instead doing a what-aboutism to deflect from himself.

Just because other people are assholes doesn't mean you aren't also a problem. And considering the fact that we can see you being a problem right now, and you haven't named individual people for us to also slap on the wrist, we focus on you as a problem community member. Critics attack ideas and competency, not the writers as individual people (for the most part. If the situation calls for it, then how the writers are seen in the public eye becomes fair game for scrutiny).

He puts Miles Luna and Kerry Shawcross on pedestals, saying that they created RWBY. They did not. Monty is the sole creator and he picked them to fill in the blanks between his fight scenes. Personally I don't envy that situation based on what I've heard and I feel sympathy for that. But being 'hand picked' by Monty doesn't mean anything other than the fact that he was personal friends with these men. That doesn't speak to their skills as writers, as the romantic, lofty wording would suggest, and it doesn't mean anything beyond they happened to be available to do the job. Monty wanted to work with friends, that's all. Rooster Teeth runs on nepotism. Fact of the matter is, RWBY is now owned by a corporation, not an individual person any longer and when owned by a corporation, can be used and abused for whatever the corporations needs. If fans think that corporation shouldn't have the product any longer, then that's their opinion that they are allowed to hold. When they criticize RWBY for being the mess they think it is, they're criticizing Rooster Teeth as a company, its practices, and its willingness to allow or even encourage incompetence within the production through various means, some more terrible than others.

Eren's understanding of Death of the Author is tenuous at best and nonexistent at worst. Barring people's misunderstanding of the concept in question aside... The concept that once a work of media exists out in the public, it is out of the control of the owner how their work gets interpreted is something that Eren struggles with. An author or creator can do their best to convey their ideas to their audience as best as possible, but that doesn't guarantee that someone will see it in that exact way. Whether a member of the audience understands what the author is trying to convey is up to the individual person, and their understanding or lack of understanding is valid to their own experiences. Of course there are dishonest ways of interpreting a piece of work, such as misdiagnosing a theme of a work (especially when the theme is stated) and then saying its bad for poorly handling that theme. The themes should be looked at on their own and judged how well they're done.

Anything else that I could say about the man has already been talked about in a different document by SYTOkun, barely anything of which I am interested in talking about, as I'm currently more interested in the misunderstandings and mistakes that lead to someone who wants positivity in a fandom to become a poster child for anti-positivity.

Lilith Fairen's Dishonest Motives

Lilith is such a curious person, and I've tried to understand her mentality and see where she's coming from and where the misunderstanding starts. The main issue seems to be that she came into the fandom with dishonest motives from the start and has admitted to it. Her motivation for coming into the RWBY community was strictly to bully people whom she had ideological issues with, or people she deemed 'critics'. She was mocking people while having never watched the show herself, something that many people pointed out. She's claimed to have since watched RWBY and still finds no issue with it. I have no reason to disbelieve her and thus will not accuse her of still having never watched the show. But considering her starting point, either likes it more for ideological reasons or likes it to spite the haters. While her enjoyment of RWBY may be genuine, due to this history, it's very difficult for me to see her desire for this show as anything but sociologically political.

Lilith herself is a very caustic individual with a large chip on her shoulder. She has a preference for female-led stories, and ones that don't require the girls/women to have motivations surrounding men. While I think there's nothing wrong with that conceptually, it becomes a problem when viewing certain stories one has little preference for as problematic for not fitting into what she personally prefers. For the most part, women and girls are more motivated by social aspects of life, whether it be friendships or romance, and that's not inherently a bad thing, but Lilith has some issue with it due to said aforementioned chip labelled 'misogyny'.

She throws accusations of misogyny around like it's candy going out of style. Rarely does she back up her accusations with any factual evidence, randomly accusing this, that or the other of being misogynistic as though one should just accept or already knows it as fact when in reality is quite odd. Guns, for example, are considered masculine representations in her eyes, and not gender neutral items that can be used by either gender, and thus unsuitable weapons for magical girls, like in Madoka Magica, to use.

I've never seen Madoka. But I don't think I have to in order to see how silly this concept is. Girls can like guns and that doesn't make them less girly. I've never heard of guns as being a gendered item.

While I also don't necessarily disagree there's issues in anime and female representation, tropes and cliches can be overdone and become outright tired and boring, I believe Lilith takes it a step too far when she starts going after other people for their acceptance or ambivalence toward the things she's personally not a fan of. In attacking something like Madoka or other so-called 'deconstruction' anime, she infantilizes female characters by saying they shouldn't be subject to the same challenges and difficulties male characters often are, because they're women. She also claims anime shows girls as hysterical and overly emotional. As though teenagers - which most anime feature - is a foreign concept to her. Also stuff often gets turned up for drama. It's called fiction and literally all media around the world does this.

She's also a negative, salty, bitter person in general despite her preferences for happy, saccharine and light-hearted stories. It makes me wonder if she seeks out these fluffy tales because she has such a dark mentality that she desperately wants to get away from, but has the delusion that what she likes isn't respected for what it is, or liked. As though Sailor Moon or Pretty Cure aren't incredibly large, successful franchises in Japan. As though Sailor Moon isn't still beloved in the west. People in different countries can have different tastes and expectations outside of the niches of anime lovers who already understand and cherish these properties. That doesn't make them disrespected. Madoka was enjoyed by (some) people who had no concept of magical girls outside of cursory knowledge of watching Sailor Moon as kids and praised it as being the best despite likely never having watched before or since any magical girl anime. And these people are the ones she hates, but conflates all Madoka fans as these individuals.

Because of her perceived notion that magical girls are disrespected and dismissed due to misogyny, her attitude toward her original stories can also be quite cynical at times. Maybe if she took a step out of her self-loathing and victim mentality she would realize that a prospective reader seeing something like this on her blog might be a turn-off.

It's not like there are other factors that contribute to your story's relative obscurity like poor marketing on your part or the fact that superhero novels (which magical girls count as) in general are not very popular. Yes, even ones that feature male leads. You find more success with more visual mediums like comic books, movies and television. Girl. From one author to another... There's more to putting your work out there than simply writing and publishing it.

I'll get to Glints Saga another day, but from a cursory glance (at an old version, mind you) I can already tell that if you had gone to a writing meetup and got the story critiqued and they found little issue with it... you should find a better critique group because they were seriously doing you a disservice.

Gotta wonder if Faye said Monara's name often enough she'd eventually remember it. There's also a lot more wrong here, dialogue-wise and prose-wise. But that's more for a comparison between the old and new version if this section had been cleaned up.

But her bad attitude doesn't end there. She also has spite for anyone else that seems to have more success than her that she knows is 'touchable'. Instead of looking at a piece of inspirational messages by a writer trying to encourage others to keep going, she dismisses the critique because they're popular and it's so easy for them. Because it's not like an artist or writer could be popular because they've worked hard for it and were able to market themselves effectively in order to gain an audience and conduct themselves in a manner that wouldn't turn prospective fans away. No, it's just that they only got lucky. That somehow makes their altruistic encouragement meaningless.

Also notice how she never actually engages in arguments when people call her out on anything. Because she either knows she's full of crap or she wants to appear like a tough beotch on the internet and hide the fact that she has no counter argument and treats childishly typing out her laughter like some cartoon buttmonkey is a rebuttal instead of some obvious attempt at trying to hide her discomfort.

You know, completely missing the point of the original post that said if you create for the main purpose of getting recognition and acknowledgment, then you'll soon hate your writing and become miserable when your expectations aren't met. So the advice was to create regardless of whether or not you get any attention because you love to write, not because you feel owed anything for writing. But if she did that then she'd actually feel good about herself and her work and not bitterly lash out at everything and everyone. It's enough to make one wonder if part of the reason why she goes after critics is because she's jealous many of them do get attention and engagement and the main thing she manages to attract is people calling her out for her shitty behaviour.

By the way, both Lilith and Eren think that people going to their public blogs, where they post things that other people can see is somehow stalking. On a website where the whole point is that your posts will likely travel, especially if you talk about a franchise (even if you don't tag). Or that people responding to them at all is somehow stalking. They want to be able to say any kind of vile garbage about other fans they don't like and not have to face any repercussions for it.

One final thing because I know it's going to bug me...

"Critics" do not compare autistic people to robots. We compare ourselves to robots because when they aren't written to just be humans straight up are neurodivergent. They do not think like neurotypical people and in some ways even like humans do. That is the definition of neurodivergence - thinking and processing in a way that is outside the norm. Allistic people accept this and also headcanon many robots the same way in order to be inclusive. Lilith, if you aren't going to properly understand why people say things in relation to mental health and neurodivergence just stay out of it entirely.

Toxicity of FNDM, RWDE and Anti-RWDE

Here's where I'm going to get a little controversial, because members of all sides have done shitty things. Anti-RWDE is obvious, as they're just a salt tag dedicated to complaining about people who have negative opinions because how dare. But even the side I "agree" with more, I think have said some ridiculous and toxic things. Never mind anons here.

Accusations of "fascist", "white supremacist", "racist", "terf", "transphobic", "homophobic", "sexist", "ableist", basically anything under the sun that is a pejorative you can think of it was probably spewed out of the fingers of some member of RWDE or FNDM/Anti like a child throwing insults on the playground.

You have passions and societal issues that you want to address, and that's perfectly fine and understandable. But to accuse someone of being any flavour of 'ist' or 'phobe' over disagreements on whether a character in a cartoon does this action or interacts with that character in such and such a way muddies the waters, dilutes the impact the word has and even makes it easier for people to casually dismiss accusations and even real life and serious instances of these things due to how low the bar has been set for being labelled as such. You aren't engaging honestly anymore, you're trying to shut someone down by calling them names. Attacking someone or a work for miniscule things they do or say that you interpret as being bad without considering that there might in fact be a different reason why they said that thing is dishonest and harmful.

Hey Lilith, you wanna, maybe, define what an alt-righter is to you? Or are you just going to call out anyone who is right-of-far-left an "alt-righter" so that you can feel good and justified for shitting on someone else for literally no reason other than you had a temper tantrum at the concept that someone is unsatisfied with a cartoon? It's not like you have any evidence that Celtic is an alt-righter or anything you just made that shit up.

I've seen both sides do this, and I'm not calling out specific individuals because I've seen many act this way.

There are even certain people within the fandom who say it's your fault that you're upset with the show because you dared to have expectations that the show didn't meet. As though this is somehow a gotcha, that it's somehow wrong of you to have desires to see something you think is being presented in the show, only for it to fall flat with something you don't think is good in its place. You're a bad person for having an opinion that isn't positive about the cartoon. The show has either somehow done the impossible and achieved perfection or there is no amount of problems with the writing or anything else that can justify you expressing your opinion about it. It's best for you to shut your mouth because it personally inconveniences them.

It's gotten to the point where it's almost impossible to have certain discussions without devolving into a slobbering screaming match, because even the characters aren't saved from the pejoratives and some even attach characters and liking certain characters to certain mentalities and mindsets. If you dare like the wrong character you will be seen as x toxic thing. If you want to discuss a certain character you'll be dismissed as y type of toxic person. You also better watch how you dress your characters in redesigns or else you're z type of bad people because somewhere out there someone may or may not make a connection to a real life group you may or may not have taken a couple of design elements from and that is evil because there are 100728 different negative ways you can portray a marginalized group to the point that it would probably be better to forget those groups exist at all and only keep your fantasy series based on the standard big cultures and that's somehow more progressive despite also being a problem. Always watch your step. Always be ready to be seen as a monster, or fight a monster. Absolute lunacy.

On top of that, it makes you no better than the people you criticize. How hypocritical to call someone out for shitty behaviour, complaining about toxicity in the fandom and turn around and do shitty behaviour yourself.

Don't think I didn't notice when Judgmental Critter calls out Lilith for calling her misogynist for criticizing RWBY, saying that she just hates women, then turns around and casually accuses people who criticize High Guardian Spice (or some things about RWBY) for the exact same thing with no basis. I love Critter's sass, opinions, views and her work in general, become one of my favourite youtubers even. I can't wait for when my boyfriend shows me Madoka so I can watch her magical girl series and other videos. But I don't fail to notice when she blanket statements groups of people because she doesn't/won't understand their arguments.

Honestly there are many examples like this but I wanted to highlight an example from each "side" to emphasize my point and to show that I'm not just pointing to any particular side as being the problematic one. I think the worst example of toxicity has to be in the tags of this one post I found on tumblr ranting about hbomberguy's video. It's actually disturbing.

I was so flabbergasted by the idea that someone could actually say this, not because they disliked what was said, but because a video that didn't praise RWBY existed at all.

Backtracking a little, I wanted to talk about how quick people are to make connections and accuse others in the fandom of being something terrible.

We are pattern-seeking creatures and our pattern recognition is exceptional. But it also produces false positives in the pareidolia effect, the phenomenon where you see things that aren't actually there. The most benign and silly of the pareidolia effect is 'faces in places' and likewise, you can see patterns of behaviour, thought processes and ideologies in conversations out of context to the wider behaviour of the person. This is why I'd studied up on Lilith and Eren before writing this to make sure that there was a noticeable, repeated pattern of behaviour before writing all of this up. Lilith, Eren, and their ilk also suffer from this when it comes to criticism of rewrites that they have particular issues with, and I'll talk more about this in the next section.

There's an example of a man whom I'd had an argument with in a server I moderate for. I hadn't meant to get into an argument with him, more genuinely wanting to get his thoughts on a rewrite-heavy AU-turned-original-story idea of my own, as someone who liked RWBY. I thought I could have a fun, creative conversation, getting insight into how I did handling the characters in an AU setting and what I could do to expand on my interpretations. I find the idea of setting characters in different scenarios while still maintaining their personalities a fun exercise. Instead I was met with defensive vitriol.

I wanted the focus to be friendship between the girls rather than a mishmash of family and romance, which he hated. When asked why, it was because I said I didn't like feeling as though I was being lied to with the premise of the story, which was meant to be about four girls who became friends, and I felt it personally didn't satisfy me in that department. Then we got off on a long argument about lying to your audience, which eventually revealed a sort of sad element to the guy that I was talking to: that basically he felt that he had no right to be upset over anything that happened to him. If he was lied to, he shouldn't be upset at it. Not that he didn't want to be upset, but that he felt he couldn't, and eventually admitted to a deeper underlying issue with self confidence and worth he struggled with that seemed to manifest in being upset when anyone voiced dissenting and negative opinions.

While I think looking on the bright side is all well and good, there's a limit my dude, and trying to explain to him why I felt being lied to was a negative thing that I had the right to be unhappy about was such a foreign concept to him due to not feeling like he should ever be upset when people treat him poorly. Then he accused me of disliking him for liking a show I disliked. The whole exchange left me spiraling

But that interaction was telling, and while I can't apply that to all the members of FNDM who feel threatened by criticism and dissent, eyes can be opened about possibilities into the reasons why they find critical engagement so offensive. On some level, at least for some, it might feel like they get personally attacked because the show they love is picked apart, and in turn, picking them apart. RWBY is fundamental to who they are as people, and if you attack it in any way, you are threatening them, their worth and self-esteem.

What is 'Hate'?

Hate is a strong word, and one that, like all the above pejoratives, is used far too liberally. It's a strong negative emotion of loathing and disgust, and if kept too long can cause negative effects on one's mind and body. It takes some amount of derangement, I feel, to legitimately hate something passionately for a long period of time. Hate is usually such a strong emotion that it is temporary and fades quickly.

There were a lot of people who hated Twilight when it first came out. Those people quickly faded away after their rage subsided and the main people who stuck around on the Twilight 'hate train' were people who disliked it, but thought it was fun to mock rather than outright hate. It was silly, after all! Who wouldn't love making fun of something ridiculous and harmful and boring and dumb. Many critics of Twilight even pointed out aspects of what they liked in the book series, namely the side characters of the latter books. The vampires and werewolves helping the Cullens and the inter-species political struggles were more fascinating and interesting than the teen melodrama forced love triangle going on between Bella, Edward and Jacob. There were many more still who enjoyed Twilight knowing full well how trash it was, acknowledging it for its camp and bad writing but enjoying it for being bad.

Twilight is still criticized to this day, broken down and dissected to see what makes it tick, and why it ended up being as bad as it was. But it's not for hate for the most part, though there is dislike. But mostly if you're going to deep dive, pick apart or rewrite beyond an anger-filled review, that takes a certain level of passion for what you're doing. You see the good inside it and want it to be better. If you're going off youtuber's opinions you do have to be mindful that some of them play up their emotions for entertainment. Youtubers are entertainers, after all, and while those feelings might be genuine, there will be elements of hamming it up. Even positive youtubers do this and there's nothing wrong with that.

It's the same with RWBY and a lot of RWBY criticism. Most people who genuinely hate the show have moved on to bigger and better things. Those who stuck around either do so because they genuinely love it, or hope that it will get better, or at the very least need to see it to the end because it's been a part of their lives for so long.

Hate, ultimately, is a negative experience that can't birth anything creative. Hate does nothing but tear, break down and destroy. It's tearing down someone else directly to fill a void, or to make yourself feel better.

Hate, ultimately, is what many in the Anti-RWDE does to the part of the FNDM they don't like.

Fixing RWBY

Now comes the lengthy part of my post! Fixing RWBY or FRWBY is a project started by Raymond McNeil, as most people likely know, and started as a passion project due to his love for RWBY and his dissatisfaction with elements of how RWBY has been handled. If anyone says that he hates the show, you know that it's in bad faith and they haven't watched his content. He's said multiple times how much he loves the show, he's just frustrated it doesn't live up to the potential he thinks it has.

This section is voicing my rebuttals to larger criticisms of the show by people who admit they don't properly watch and engage with the project and purposefully look for things to pick apart, regardless of if it's true. While there are legitimate criticisms to be had about the project, they are harder to come by as they get drowned out by a flooding of this low brow shit flinging.

Some people think being dissatisfied is wrong, as I've previously mentioned

They, for some reason, think that having expectations for a show is invalid. I've already discussed how terrible that mindset is. But the main recurring criticisms of Fixing RWBY are mainly perpetuated by Eren and Lilith and a handful of their friends, which get spread around to others who think like them. We know Lilith is dishonest because she, by her own admission, skims his content and doesn't properly evaluate it, looking for things to take out of context or at face value to shit on. EngineGear at least has the decency to honestly summarize without comment. So let's go through some of their criticisms, shall we?

Special mention goes out to EngineGear, who had been one of the people throwing around the idea that Raymond kept Fixing RWBY behind a paywall simply because, as a youtuber, he had his discord as a patreon reward. When I calmly explained why his discord had nothing to do with FRWBY, and how his criticism cannot be put against Raymond without also demonizing non-critic youtubers and other artists who get paid for their fan content, he deleted the reddit post from his little saltmine, r/RWBYCynics. I appreciate his honesty in recognizing his mistake and deleting the post.

We're certainly off to a start here. The implication of this post is implying that Celtic Phoenix, and to a larger part his volunteer team - the Sketchy Huntsman - are racist.

Okay, so, there is practically no information about Oscar in terms of background or creation information to confirm anything other than what fairy tale character they could graft onto him. Who knows, there might be some obscure podcast or interview or tweet or however many different methods the writers have used to supplement their poor writing skills. I'm not about to go on a wild goose chase for something that might not even exist. His concept art says he has sunburnt skin. That makes sense, he's a farmer. He's out in the sun all day. So it stands to reason he has a farmer's tan. Even if he doesn't, the guy has my skin tone and I'm not what you would call non-European in origin.

Let's nevermind for a moment that this is incredibly American-centric thinking. This is an ancient relic of the past where we divided ourselves up into Reds, Whites, Blacks, and Yellows (... huh. I... didn't mean to sort them like that;; ) and sometimes Browns. It still has its uses in the modern day, and of course there is just acknowledgment of visual differences, but it should also be acknowledged that the terms are arbitrary descriptors of shades of the same colour (brown). All humans regardless of how much melanin is in your skin, is a shade of brown. Skin can have an underside of red, blue, green, yellow and determine whether their skin looks cold or warm. Europeans can naturally get pretty dark, being born with natural olive skin and there are non-Europeans who can be born with light skin. Europeans (or descent) can run between Type I-IV and non-Europeans can range from Type III-VI. What's more, we don't know anything about the migratory history of Remnant or whether skin types are random like faunus apparently are.

The main RWBY characters have ridiculously translucent, even glowing skin lighter than Type I that no actual human being would have. Blake and Weiss are beyond even anime pale, so someone looks at a character who has realistically coloured 'white' skin and all of a sudden they're poc. There's no problems with headcanoning that. But that's what it is. Your headcanon. And you're accusing Raymond of racism for getting rid of a character you headcanon as being poc. The same goes for Lionheart, who looks to have an (albeit sickly) ashy grey skin tone. Not dark enough to definitively be poc. It's a headcanon that you can choose to have, but should not weaponize to vilify someone you disagree with.

This is gonna be a general onsen post, one that is going to have some overlap with the faunus heat cycles section below. Mistral is meant to have vague connections to Asian culture. Onsen, or bathhouses/hot springs, are a very important part of Asian culture. Not only that, but they were and are also important to the Ancient Greeks, Ancient Romans, Turkish, and many other societies as places of community, healing and relaxation.

From a meta standpoint, an onsen episode, like a beach episode, is easy on the overworked animators to create, and thus become a staple of anime. But they aren't used purely for fanservice.

Fruits Basket used the onsen episode as another way for Momiji to pay back Tohru for the Valentines chocolates, further establishing his bond with her, for the characters in general to bond, another way for Tohru to show how much she thinks of her mother in everything that she does, and as foreshadowing to Ritsu's arrival by meeting his mother, who owned the facility. Ritsu's mother is one of the few zodiac parents who has a good relationship with their child and was able to give Tohru some insight into the family. Plus, another moment of Yuki showing his affection for Tohru and growing desires to see her as happy as she made him.

Outlaw Star's onsen episode is very raunchy to the point where American syndication cut the episode entirely from television. And because of that the American audiences missed out on an incredibly important plot detail. The episode was heavy in many establishing things, generally being wacky, but also an important, unskippable element to the story.

Blue Seed is an anime that I never got to watch, though my old video store had the sequel OVA Blue Seed 2, which featured three episodes. One of those episodes featured an onsen, and a bomb rigged to explode once the water level got too high or low or the timer ran out. It was a thrilling episode featuring a tense plot and showed the cultural differences between the characters and their one (American) gaijin friend.

There are other examples of onsen episodes in anime that aren't just for fanservice, so to suggest that they only exist in this way is absurd. The female members of the Sketchy Huntsmen, particularly the Asian members advocated hard for this scene, practically twisting Raymond's arm to put it in because it was thematically important, and culturally, for the character moments the cast (especially Weiss and Yang) would go through. By ignoring all of the context to what went on in this scene to say it was purely for Raymond to be gross is to wave away the cultural significance of onsen to Asian culture as being reduced to nothing more than stripteases and ignore when characters do have important moments between one another.

Roman also didn't say anything about Weiss being a man. He said she was flat-chested. He thought Ren was a woman because he was beautiful and had a gentle, feminine face and thin physique and justified it by talking about how women are varied. The joke is making fun of Roman for being an unobservant ass, not at Ren for being feminine and certainly not at Weiss. How badly did you not pay attention to this scene to get so offended that you had to make it about you and your expectation to be slighted. Again, pareidolia. Trans people, rest easy. Not every joke involving gender and being seen as the opposite gender is about you specifically or meant to slight you specifically. And I mean this genuinely. If you think that it is, kindly take a chill pill and reduce your ego before you hurt yourself. Your blood pressure will thank you.

Does this screenshot of a Rated T game upset you?

Faunus heat cycles were treated more or less the same as the onsen scene. Subverting the expectation that this sexual concept can only be used for cheap hentai games and anime. Realistically any trope or concept can be used in a more serious story setting, including sexual concepts like heat cycles. There’s no rules that just because something is used often as one thing that it cannot be used serve a different purpose. That’s the beauty of writing. In this case, Raymond used the heat cycles as one of many minuscule differences between the species to further exacerbate racial tensions and drive xenophobia, which would in turn affect the world on a global scale. Wow that kinda sounds like stuff that happens in real life! What a concept!

To those of you weirdos that think heat cycles are gross still, chew on this: Real life humans have evolved the ability to have sex and get pregnant 365 days of the year. If you think about it, our heat cycles never turn off. And the reason why we have periods is presumed to make sure that if we do get pregnant at any time we can attempt to abort a dead foetus before it potentially goes septic and kills us. Fascinating stuff, but that’s not all. Humans might actually have a heat cycle on top of that after all. There are days during the reproductive cycle where women are more receptive to the idea of sex, and finds normally unpleasant bodily odours more pleasant and men are attracted to the odours of women during this time.

Basically this means that women have periods of subtle extra heat that make them more receptive to sex on top of the fact that humans are basically horny all the time. This is something that is a biological fact within human beings and it can influence society of a variety of ways in the wider context of the world, so why is it so far-fetched and disgusting that a faunus would have a more non-primate mammalian estrus?

Now this is a new one. Ilia did turn away from her destructive spiral. Just like in real life that doesn't mean you get off scot free. She got a reduced sentence and some privileges for her help. She’s being rewarded by getting to go out and have fun at the festival and she said she’d rather be in the (presumably) solitude of a jail cell than have to deal with Sun (and his loud, boisterous energy). What’s offensive about that? Also hmm... 3 poc faunus. Well, faunus are all Remnant's version of poc so you can't mean them specifically do you mean... these three?

Those two on the right are looking pretty damn pale to be poc could it be that you're lying, Eren? And maybe that even if it weren't the case it wouldn't matter because it's a legitimate police technique at the very least seen in procedurals on television and are used regardless of the suspects' skin colour? You trying to slither the idea that Raymond is racist because he dares to have something at all happen to a non-white character is rather slimy.

A lot to go over here, so let's get started shall we? First of all, it absolutely tickles me that changing Shay D. Mann into Shiloh would cause Eren to go into such a big tizzy. Like, it's such a small thing and yet it's one of the main complaints they had about V5, which in my opinion means that Raymond was doing something right. Apparently upgrading a character from a tertiary to a secondary position if there's a need for it is blasphemy.

Okay, so let's go over the concept of character hierarchies. Primary Characters (which there is 8), secondary characters (which there are at least 15), and tertiary characters, which outnumber the stars. Honestly these could be broken down further into Main Characters (Ruby, Weiss, Jaune, etc), Primary characters (Nora, Qrow, Oscar, etc), Secondary characters (Raven, Ironwood, Ace-Ops, etc), Tertiary characters (Whitely, Willow, etc) and then Quaternary characters (Henry Marigold, Dust Shop Guy, Background people).

A quaternary character being upgraded to a tertiary character... what a terrible concept. I also don't understand this predilection for playing up the severity of Shay's actions, acting as though he's straight up assaulted her. He was drunk and tried to flirt. When she ignored it, he tried touching her hair. I've had a more eventful night in real life at a bar dealing with drunk guys who didn't mean any harm and one of them stuck his fingers in my mouth (I had on vampire fangs and that blew his drunk mind). He returns, bruised from his punch and worse for the wear with friends and Yang makes him lead her to camp.

He's not a good guy, obviously, and Shiloh is still not a good guy. But he's more human. He has people he cares about and his own set of morals, even if they may be looser than our protagonist's. If you don't think terrible people can't also have people they care about, I don't know what to say. You're mad because a criminal character, along with the rest of his tribe, got nuance beyond 'bandit'. I do not see the problem.

Shiloh is also not married to Raven, Eren. You do know that people can have children out of wedlock, right?

Gotta ask how Vernal was ruined in FRWBY. He says a lot of basically nothing and doesn't explain himself, acting as though his incoherent rambles are meant to be enough.

Oh yeah, Vernal was such a unique character all right with how... there she was. Existing. I'm supposed to be impressed? Ohhh. Ahhh. Her hair is very pixie cut. Such non-feminine (except it totally is Eren you silly), much discount bargain bin Yang outfit. It's not like Raven isn't literally a palette swap of Yang anyway so I don't know why you clowns complain about Lily, who has different features than both her mother and Yang while still being unique and yet sleep on this.

Raven also didn't dismiss Vernal's death in FRWBY. She refused to outwardly express her grief or accept that her poor actions got her daughter killed. That whole scene with her trying to destroy and then hide the relic was her focusing her feelings because she's not a very mature person. Sorry, that bit of character writing might be a bit subtle for those who are used to blunt-force character writing so it's understandable if you don't get it.

Now this is a weird claim. Let's look at it shall we? Zooming in for the visually impaired on Ruby's face, we indeed do see her looking at Roman and she has a very light amount of colour on her. There's also a white shine that was popular about 7 years ago with a lot of artists. You know, the artists that would put what I like to call blushies/sunburns on cheeks, shoulders, breasts and knees all had this style of redness for parts of the body that are naturally darker in places or have redness. Though with some artists the breasts were a weird one, I've always thought. It's not a style I go for in my own work, but I'm not going to care if that's what an artist likes to do.

Also most blushes, even ones by the artist herself go over the nose to differentiate between a blush and healthy cheeks.

But they claim that Roman doesn't have the blushies so the idea that this artist puts them on everything is false! So let's have a look at the Clockwork Reject.

Well, how can you tell he has no blushies when his hair is covering his face?

Could it be...?

Darker discolouration right beneath his eye that lightens up by his nose? It's almost like... a blushie hidden in shadow!

That settles it for anyone still furiously grasping at straws, desperately looking for any tiny little thing they can twist and warp into being something problematic.

Also one final point that these people are implying that Ruby is being shipped with either Roman or Ozpin. As far as I'm aware RubyxOzpin is kind of a popular ship (heck... RubyxOzpinxRoman was featured in a recent fic we read in the Tundra). It's not Rosegarden or Whiterose, but it's still fairly widespread. Why you gotta ship-shame?

So there's this idea going around that rewrites always sideline the heroines of the story (as though canon RWBY doesn't do that already). I can't speak for all rewrites, because I don't follow any except for FRWBY and I'm starting to get into Remnants. So for all I know every single other rewrite out there features Jaune or some other male character as the protagonists instead of RWBY.

Roman effectively replaces Oscar in FRWBY. A criminal who has found himself in unusual circumstances and now has to work with his former adversaries to complete a common goal.

How does this lead to Roman taking centre stage? Beats me. The fact that he... technically does things, unlike Oscar, I guess.

Now, I happen to like Oscar. I think he's a cute little muffin that wound up in a bad situation. But I also don't deny that he's been squandered as a character and as much as I've given Raymond shit for removing Oscar from his place in the plot, I won't deny that at least he's done something with the character he's put in farmboy's place.

Also Ruby being "reduced" to Roman's sidekick is very interesting phrasing by Lilith here. She tries very hard to manipulate language to give the most uncharitable interpretations as possible. The context for the scene is that the characters are being proactive in searching for leads and Roman is going to go check with his sources and connections in Mistral. Ruby goes with him to keep an eye on him.

She's his handler, not his sidekick. There's a difference.

You... ever get the feeling that Eren doesn't actually understand RWBY or it's characters?

Like... I think Ozpin did nothing wrong in V6. Jinn had no right to air out his dirty laundry like that just to show that Salem couldn't be killed. But while he may be supportive, I don't know if necessarily I would call him kind. In some aspects, sure. But Ozpin is meant to be a calculating character, striving to do what he can to hold back Salem at all costs. He is meant to be a morally grey character, not quite as good of a character as Dumbledore, but he does have that theme of leading pigs to the slaughter. Except these 'pigs' signed up for this job and know how dangerous it is unlike Harry until the end so the analogy doesn't quite work for Ozpin. (By the way, notice his contradiction there by saying Dumbledore is made morally grey by making him evil. Those are two distinct concepts, Eren. Maybe you should look up what morally grey is.) But the terrible way the characters treat him and Oscar's body afterwards makes many of us more sympathetic to him than to be against him. He's morally grey, but we don't mind it, and view him as being someone who is still ultimately good.

"They removed another poc character"

Sweetheart... Gretchen has to actually be a character. She's just a name said on the lips of a couple of characters. We don't even get to see anything of her. Summer got the same treatment, but at least she got a gravestone and characters sort of talked about how great she was, attempting to characterize her post mortem but doing it poorly. Eventually she got a cheap palette swap model. We at least were interested in Summer and who she was and how she disappeared even if we might have only cared because Ruby did and she's the main protagonist. Is anyone interested in Gretchen? And I mean truly, genuinely interested in Gretchen to the same degree that we are interested in Ruby? What about Raven? May Marigold? Even Summer? Gretchen is a fridged tool who only exists as justification for Hazel to be a relatively nice guy but still align himself with the villains. She is not, in and of herself, a character. At least with Magnus, we see the shell that Osma resides in and it hits us that this used to be a person. A person who had family who loved him and miss him and that is why Hazel is here. Do we know anything about the body in canon other than he'd once been a farmer?

The concept that an organization has to be single minded in a goal, no matter what it is, or else it is no longer that thing, is funny to me.

No, Eren. The White Fang is still a faunus rights group in FRWBY. It's just that there are people within the organization who have very strong opinions about how to go about achieving their goals and don't mind stepping over their fellows to get to that goal. That's what we call politics.

I don't even know why this is an issue when the White Fang and the racism plotline were not well done in RWBY and that is an undisputed fact that M&K admitted to. There is nothing wrong with trying to bandage that up and adding human elements to behind the scenes stuff - things that M&K themselves tried to implement but were just too inexperienced as writers to be able to pull off. It really shouldn't be that controversial to say that they reached beyond their means with what they wanted to do with RWBY, which is partially why it's such a mess. And I want to emphasize that I don't think they're incapable of pulling it off just because of the colour of their skin. They didn't do their proper research or think about a complicated topic well enough and rushed through it because they didn't know what they were doing as writers. They also admitted to not knowing what they were doing in the writing department for the first several years of the show so it shouldn't be controversial to criticize them as inexperienced writers pushing out a subpar written product.

While we're on the subject...

In a big ol' rant titled "The Problems with Fixing RWBY" you would think there would be a lot more pointing out the problems with FRWBY and not... pointing out the differences between FRWBY and canon. There's no explanation for why these things are an issue. He just presents these as though they speak for themselves, but they don't. And most of his points are like this, by the way. I could be lazy and answer 'why is this a problem?' to most of them. But I'll do the work for Eren since he's so bad at argumentation.

I'm going to assume here that Eren is trying in a very roundabout and sloppy way to accuse Raymond of saying 'the N word' without actually saying it. One of the fans of his project had been the one to suggest 'Critter' as a slur for the faunus, and due to the similarities between the two words, Raymond thought it would be a clear parallel as being the harshest, dirtiest, derogatory term in his version.

Jockey makes sense as a mocking, derogatory euphemism for someone who is for faunus rights and is faunus friendly as someone who might not themselves be. We know what a jockey is so the imagery that invokes speaks for itself. That's how language works and we have non-offensive examples of it in real life of 'white whale' and 'foxy' and 'bought the farm'.

As for the claim that Raymond said there's no racism in America, that's quite the accusation. You better damn well have a link to a sound clip that isn't out of context or else it's best to just forget about the idea of that. Saying that as a throwaway statement to just hang there without any evidence to back it up leads to speculation and witchhunting. I strongly oppose anyone, even you, being accused of anything of the sort without strong evidence to justify it. Innocent until proven guilty.

Moving on to Cardin and Velvet. Again, I don't see what the issue is. As someone who partook in some Dramonie back in the HP days, I enjoy a good story about a racist getting humbled and humiliated by the fact that he falls in love with someone he considers beneath him. Though that isn't the case with Cardin and Velvet.

Cardin's whole arc is that he was a racist and held certain viewpoints and beliefs. Being forced to work with Velvet and spend time with her on a school project, and the lack of evidence to support his biases led Cardin to begrudgingly break out of his racist mindset and come to respect Velvet as a person, and eventually a friend. By the events of the Fall of Beacon, Cardin is no longer racist for the most part and views Velvet as an ally and companion.

Starting from that point, it's no wonder we can see these two growing close and eventually getting into a relationship. It's all in how the ship is handled, not the ship itself. However, it's not confirmed they'll even get together in the first place. Raymond has only talked about his approval of the idea.

If I can go of on a slight tangent for a moment... like, holy shit, Eren really has it out for the concept of smaller bit characters getting any kind of development. As though the very idea of characters being more than cardboard cutouts is a grievous sin. He claims that small bit characters getting any time to flourish at all takes time away from the main cast.

That isn't the problem, nor is that the ultimate problem with canon RWBY. (Like it's so very transparent what these people are trying to do is to criticize Critic Rewrites by saying the exact same things the critics say about RWBY. But the thing is that criticisms of both aren't 1-1 and so instead of engaging with the rewrites in good faith, they just regurgitate argumentative points of critics without understanding why we make these criticisms in the first place as a sort of 'gotcha' to try and shame critics into silence. A sort of 'how do YOU like it' thing. Nevermind the fact that most creators don't read the majority of the criticisms they get online and will never see it and the complaints are mostly for other fans to consume and agree or disagree with. Nevermind that critics are just fans with as much power and influence over the show as everyone else - which is none.

They don't want to see critics as fans because that means they can't build a boogeyman for themselves. It's a bullying tactic, straight up.)

The problem with RWBY's character bloat was that the main girls weren't being handled properly in the first place. People thought that if there were less characters to juggle, then there would be more time to focus on the characters that mattered. But I don't think that would solve the problem, ultimately. We've seen when they cut the cast and they still struggle with properly implementing character stuff. It gets better, for sure, but the problems persist.

Finding a balance between proper arcs for your main cast while sprinkling in quality of life things for your other characters is the goal. Not focusing on your characters doing basically nothing other than having technical screen time and bloating the rest of the time with splotches of cardboard zooming past.

A lot of people are interested in the side characters, Eren. It shouldn't be an issue for them to get a little attention on the side as a treat to the main plot and that should be the goal for RWBY.

The final point to touch on is the injuries the characters sustain. All I can say is... why is this a 'problem'? Yang lost her arm in canon. The presumption was the Fall of Beacon was a situation that was more than the students in training could handle, and many people (presumably) got injured or killed. But all of that is off screen and swept under the rug and forgotten about. It's hard to take seriously as something that is supposed to be the greatest challenge the students ever faced, even more than they can handle when we see no one struggling, no one getting their aura broken and having to fight differently, getting hurt or anything. All of that storytelling happens off screen and that is bad writing. Telling us people got hurt instead of showing us is bad writing. So again, I ask, if it's okay for characters like Yang to get injured, why is it a problem for Velvet, Neptune and Cardin who had been more prominent characters in Fixing?

Eren didn't understand the concept of volunteer work and how that differentiated between being exploited. Many of the artists came out in defense of Raymond on this, so thankfully, I don't think this argument is used anymore. From the look of it, this argument was the only time people who make these arguments tried to be nice to the artists. Now they're just fellow 'haters' who Raymond collected like Pokemon cards to work on his project. And I'd show a screenshot of calling the artists haters, but honestly I'm running low on my picture limit. You'd think there wouldn't be so many 'haters' but when anyone who voices any dissent toward the show can be considered a 'hater', they exist in abundance. The victim mentality knows no limits.

There were other criticisms about art, legitimate ones, and they were sorted out.

"The entire Brunswick Arc ... is now devoted to Roman."

Did Raymond say that? Or are you just pulling shit out of your ass? I've noticed a lot of people make baseless assumptions like this. Like how someone thinks Emerald is going to be killed by Ironwood when FRWBY V8 rolls around. Which is absolutely stupid. You guys comprehend that the point of the project is to stick as close to canon as he can, correct? That is a thing that can be understood by your goopy goblin brains? My goopy goblin brain can get that, so if not, what's your excuse?

Like yes, things are going to be different from canon. But they're not going into wild AU territory.

Changing Ozpin's host to Roman doesn't affect the trajectory of the story because Oscar was a thing in canon. Emerald isn't going to be killed in FRWBY because Emerald is going to be a thing moving forward that he needs to account for. Understood? Okay good.

As for the Brunswick arc, yes, a lot of it probably will focus on Roman. But that doesn't mean he's going to lean RNJRWBY against a wall to collect dust. This is a leap of logic that I can't comprehend, it's as if Eren thinks that scenes and scenarios that last an entire episode can only exist for one character. Maybe that's because that's what canon does.

I already actually ranted about Eren's apparent dislike of the side characters. So I presume that one of his so-called complaints that he says he does have about RWBY, but from my recollection he's never talked about because that is VERBOTEN, is the fact that RWBY has character bloat.

I think this is all that I really wanted to address, so I'll close this out on the, frankly nothingburger criticism that is 'How dare you title your project a thing I don't approve of'.

Some people like to argue that Raymond wouldn't get hate if he just titled it differently. But I hope that I showed you that with how they attack any and all rewrites, including SYTOkun's RWBY Remnants and other, usually unnamed, "Jaune Main" rewrites, that argument holds no water. These people dislike the concept of rewrites entirely and think it's okay to harass and criticize the work not based on how it functions, but for the fact that it exists at all. Ultimately the message is that this fan content is not Approved to be within their holy space.

They call Raymond arrogant for thinking he' better than other fallible human beings simply because they happen to hold jobs working at a company and Raymond does not. As though that is supposed to magically make them better as writers. Fact of the matter is, there are plenty of writers out there who are likely better than MKEK, and their personal credentials of whether or not they worked for Big Company XYZ doesn't matter. At the end of the day, this is opinion. Opinion that you're free to disagree with and it doesn't make anyone arrogant to think their skills are better. He put his money where his mouth is. But also no one is holding a gun to your head to consume fan content that you aren't interested in. If you feel that you have to because it appears on your dash and that just makes you the big mads, then maybe turn off your screen for a while. Read a book. Go for a swim (or don't if you're in the Northern Hemisphere right now it's December. Go skiing). Do something.

Its not arrogant of Raymond to call his work Fixing RWBY. Its merely a statement of intent with the work. If you have a problem with that then you are saying that is a problem with you. No work is perfect, no work is untouchable. There is always going to be something wrong with it and someone will always be unsatisfied and wish something would be different. That is the value we have as individual people.

Ultimately I am not saying they cannot dislike FRWBY. The work can be criticized. But it does need to actually be engaged with properly in order to be criticized. Critics engage with RWBY, but we aren't afforded the same courtesy.

It says a lot about a person who tries to control another fan into how to think, act, speak or consume content within a fandom space. If you want positive content in the fandom, then don't go after other fans with vitriol, and if you have issue with something they create, then look at it from a constructive standpoint and critique it with the desire for it to get changed. If an artist does not accept every single criticism, that is something you have to get over. They have the ultimate decision in the end.

I'm an old. I'm tired. I've said my piece. Thank you for reading my novella-length complaint and goodnight.

#rwby #rwde #lilithfairen #fixing rwby #canonseeker #frwby #fuck it #really long post #long long maaaaaan #terminal can't fucking read disease #celtic phoenix #sytokun #judgmental critter #I'm on a fucking rampage tonight holy shit #i won't hesitate bitch #gonna watch a lot of critters videos after this as apology for that small callout #I've been working on this for 4 days #help #final word count 10700+