#apologies if this is innacurate or not what you wanted !

[genericpuff]

I wonder why christian misrepresentation are rarely talked about if compared to other religion misrepresentation. Like, I've seen people really vocal about Greek myths misrepresentation in LO and such (and it's valid because it's a culture and religion) but I rarely saw the same thing with christian even though there are many media who use christian religion innacurately, to the point where it comes off as using it as an aesthetic and not a proper religion.

Is it because of rampant religious trauma especially in western world? No ulterior motives on this question. I'm not a christian and yet I'm curious about this. I apologize if this sounds harsh.

I obviously don't have The Answer(tm) to this but personally speaking (and I'm about to get VERY personal here so take this with MOUNTAINS OF SALT), I think it's just the obvious - Christian mythology is one of the most well-documented and strongly protected out of virtually any other religion on the planet. Especially here in the West, it's commonplace for kids to go to Sunday school, for couples to have Christian weddings even if they're not practising Christians themselves, even the American anthem references the Christian God. It's simply not as easy to 'misrepresent' it because the representation is written into our very fabric of society. Even Greece itself is primarily made up of Orthodox Christians.

So anyone that does 'misrepresent' it are either completely mislead hardcore Christians, or people who are doing it intentionally, such as with the intent to make a parody of it or to deconstruct it through a different context or whatever have you. And of course, people will still get mad at those things, if you're implying that people aren't vocal about Christian misrepresentation then frankly IDK what to tell you there LOL If you want a contextual example in the realm of webtoons, Religiously Gay was dragged to hell and back during its launch for having a very crude and insulting depiction of St. Michael, and frankly, yeah I don't disagree because what the fuck is this-

(like at best it's just terrible character design lmao that said, there's also plenty else to criticize Religiously Gay for, including its fetishy representation of gay relationships and the fact that it's still just the "naive person who looks and acts like a child hooks up with mean person in a position of power" trope, blech, but the character design is definitely the first thing you notice)

There are even plenty of hardcore Christians who will deadass claim "misrepresentation" over things that ARE factually correct but they just haven't read the actual Bible and simply cherry pick what works for their own agenda. And of course those people are routinely called out by people like myself who know for a fact that Jesus wouldn't have promoted the war crimes that many modern day Christians are committing and justifying today. So it really depends on the definition of "misrepresentation" here.

The issue specifically with LO and Rachel that I personally call her out for (and many others) is that she's called herself a "folklorist" and claimed she's so much more knowledgeable on Greek myth than anyone else, while making a complete mockery of the original mythologies while not being honest about her intent as to whether LO is actually supposed to be a legitimate retelling OR a parody (because it sure acts like the latter more than the former, but she still seems to expect us to take it seriously and consider her knowledge of Greek myth superior?) Which leads to a lot of her teenage audience claiming shit like "Persephone went down to the underworld willingly" and "Apollo did assault Persephone in the original myths actually" and the classic "why would Lore Olympus lie or make up fake myths?"

You just can't pull off this extent of erasure with Christian mythology because we have a whole ass book of it that's been preserved, sold on shelves, and systematically integrated into society for thousands of years. Of course, there are people who will still try their damned best to twist the Bible to match their own bigotry with the whole "Jesus hates gays" bullshit (he would never), but it's met with equal amounts of 'misrepresentation' that are actually fully well-read and are intentionally subverting and changing things to either critique, parody, or restore the original intent of a lot of stories in the Bible without all the manufactured right-wing crap.

Greek myth, on the other hand, has some stories that are well preserved, and others, not so much. And in the modern day outside of the poems and hymns, you'll also rarely, if ever, see anyone use stories from Greek myth to ostracize, torture, and murder other people. "Misrepresenting Christianity" is more often done by actual Christians who are using the Bible to commit hate crimes than the people who have actually read the Bible and are just taking creative liberties with it for the sake of deconstructing / parodying / analyzing / subverting it. Veggie Tales "misrepresents" Christian stories because obviously Moses wasn't a fucking cucumber lmao but it still accomplishes its goal by retelling Christian stories in a way that's fun and educational for children.

By comparison (on the whole, I'm not comparing LO to Veggie Tales LMAO) LO just isn't clear in its intentions beyond Rachel's initial statements that she was trying to "deconstruct" the myths, while labelling herself as a folklorist. Therefore, I'm going to criticize how she does it because the way she's done it up until now has been very mishandled and has resulted in a lot of misinterpretations of the myths simply for the sake of fandom. And yes, these people exist in Christian media as well - they're called TV evangelists.

And that's my (very heavy) two cents.

[solreino]

Swan Song

Chapter 1: Taking Flight

Summary: In preparation for your debut as Odette in Swan Lake, you encounter a few bumps in the road. Little do you know this is just the start.

Pairings: TF 141 x Reader

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: Eating Disorders, Toxic Beauty Standards, Creepy/Unwanted Behaviour, Period-Typical Attitudes (1910's), Innacurate Translations.

A/N: I'm not well informed about ballet, I have never danced it before, so I apologize for any inaccuracy regarding terminology. Also, the story is set mainly in Russia, so the reader is presumed to be of Russian origin.

MASTERLIST Next➔

[November 11th 1911, The Bolshoi Ballet Academy, Russia]

"1 and 2 and 3 and 4!”

Your eyebrows furrow in concentration as Mr. Lenkov begins to play Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake Suite, Op. 20a: I. Scene "Swan Theme" for what feels like the sixth time this hour. His nimble fingers dance across the ivory keys once again as the composition presumes its macabre melody.  

To say the last few weeks have been stressful would be a dire understatement. Since taking up the role of Odette in Autumn, you’ve yet to recall the last time you’d had the pleasure of succumbing to the sanctity of slumber, nor rest altogether for that matter. From dawn to dusk, you’ve found the studio becoming a second home to you; like an ever-so gracious host with a tendency for passive-aggressive hospitality, who coaxes you from the front door in promise of warm tea and a place to rest your head, insisting you stay "just one more hour". You know better, well at least you think you do, because beyond the studio door you know there’ll be no rest awaiting you, only relentless recital. Still, you don’t look back as you accept its welcoming embrace. Because- 

Anything but perfection would not suffice. You see, back-breaking discipline; impeccable precision; artistic competence; meticulous dedication, it’s nothing new to ballet and in turn, it’s nothing new to you, either. To be a ballerina means to surrender yourself to the artistry, and let your body become its mindless muse.

The Ballet industry is an anomaly compared to other artistic sectors. Unlike others, it subverges from the ideals of ‘beauty in the eye of the beholder’. Conformity is key. There are strict standards to be met and an unquestionable quota to be completed. Anything but, will not do. It disregards the need to sugarcoat its shallow requirements; skinnier, sharper, prettier, thinner; if it fulfills the requirements, it will suffice. 

Image is everything. It’s a shallow, superficial sentiment that directors set upon budding ballerinas like hounds to hares. From day one, they plant it into the impressionable minds of aspiring dancers. Uncontrollably, self-doubt sprouts like a stubborn weed. Each off-hand comment or direct dig, whether it be about a girl’s weight of en pointe form, encourages the festering parasite to root itself deeper into her mind. Then she grows older - it’s too late - and the parasitic thought has poisoned her once innocent outlook on life and has rotted it right to its roots. For the rest of her tragic life, the girl will only know the number on the scales, the image in the mirror, and the misery in her mind. 

You’ve seen it happen to others. You’ve seen it happen to you, because-  

Ballet has ensnared you - mind, body, and soul. Over the years, you’ve felt its callous claws dig deeper and deeper into your flesh, leaving scars so severe - both physically and mentally - sometimes the pretty pink ribbons you adorn your feet with prove futile in the bid to cover them. Prodding and poking and probing; fingers jabbing mercilessly into your sides, accompanying a doubly ruthless "you'll need to lose this extra weight if you want a spot on my stage". For a sport so vain, you ought to think it would go easy on its victims. A session of self-reflection proves otherwise.

You learn to bear and grin through it all. You don’t have much of a choice anyways. After all, many before you have suffered the same, and those who come after you will too. Because after many years of being a ballerina-

You learn to see beauty in the pain. 

The blood you bleed makes the red roses you receive at curtain call worthwhile; the sadistically sweat-inducing masterclasses make the shining smiles and standing ovations from awestruck audiences worthwhile; the tears make the champagne chutes you get to drink at the expense of your company worthwhile. You chase these highs like you do with stardom.  

All you've ever dreamed of since a little girl was to be a ballerina. Perhaps, it was the beautiful dresses a child of your class could only dream of back then, or how pretty the woman on the front page of your father’s newspaper looked posing on the tip of her toes. You don’t know for certain what exactly it was that enthralled you with it all. Sometimes, you wish you had never boarded that train to Moscow, never bothered with all that came with being a ballerina. It’s a selfish and self-deprecating thought, for you know if you were to stay on that homestead, there was an imminent chance you would have succumbed to the troubles of poverty you had faced back home. Admittedly, there are times you miss your life before coming to the city. None can be done about that, however.

Now, you have to push your body to its limits and beyond. Daily, you trespass boundaries you had once believed your body did not possess the ability to, reciting the same sequences endlessly, over and over again, until you physically can’t pursue your practice further that day. Even then, you find yourself persevering through the pain and fatigue; limbs heavy like lead; a mind strong like steel. If you knew your efforts were futile in the bid to rid yourself of any flaws in your dance, you would be wrong because-    

Ultimately, you knew no matter how much effort you exerted, the Dance Principal; Ballet Mistress; the reputable Madame Orlova would not miss a single thing.

For decades, word has circled Moscow of the cold-hearted, quick-witted, sharp-tongued old woman who ran the prestigious academy with an iron fist. It was just your luck that she had taken you under her wing as one of her pupils. You dare say she had taken a liking to you, though, she did have a tough way of showing her fondness onto others. 

Never a day was there without some sort of mistake to be mended by her recognition. At times you think God had cursed her to be forever unfulfilled in her outlook of life. The others in the Troupe seem to think so too. 

You dread to think of how much Mr Lenkov’s fingers must be hurting from playing the same melody over and over again for this past hour. It wouldn’t surprise you if the composition begins to haunt your dreams like a creaky, broken music box. You’ve never had the pleasure of owning one, though you had seen one in the window of a repair shop one time and-

And, as the Ballet Mistress shouts at Mr Lenkov to cease his playing, you know she has once more found a flaw in your dancing. 

The symphony stops abruptly with a garble of incoherent notes before it can reach its crescendo. Inwardly, you sigh. 

"No, no, no!" She scolds.

Her boney fingers rub feverishly against her temple in frustration. Rising slowly from her chair before you, her walking cane thumps anticipating against the studio’s oakwood floor as she ambles towards you. Wrinkled eyes bore into you; you struggle to withstand the urge not to writhe under the intensity of her stare.

"Your arms,” She begins slowly, her gaze raking over you in scrutiny, “They are stiff.�� 

“From the shoulder to the fingertips,” She gestures with her hand down the length of your arm as she speaks. “It must flow, like the wing of a swan.”

She uses the moment of silence as you take on the command to survey your form, prodding and poking your stance to adjust it to her liking. 

“Do not forget this.” She finishes. 

"Yes, Madame Orlova," You nod in acknowledgment, wincing slightly each time her finger jabs into your shoulder blades and readjust your position to better suit her expectations. 

She huffs a breath in what you can only presume is somewhat satisfaction, signaling for Mr Lenovo to resume playing.

“Again!”

The song resumes its somber sound, and you take heed to the Ballet Mistress’ words. Flowing from your shoulder blades to your fingertips, you encapture the essence of the White Swan; melancholy in her mourning of a lover whose heart he had promised to another. She is vulnerable in her virtue, and she shows that in her final flight. Odette longs for the skies, for an escape from the betrayal of who she had held dear, but her wings fail her. In desperation, she flexes and flaps her wings, but alas, she cannot take flight. And so-

You spiral in a presession of slow spins, arms portraying the anguished attempt the Swan Queen takes to take flight for the final time before decelerating into a despairing descent as Odette. The tune tumbles to its end from beneath Mr. Lenkov’s fingers as you complete your practiced plummet to the studio floor, encasing your body with your arms the wings of the white swan, as the grief-stricken creature takes its final breath. 

You raise your head to look at Madame Orlova.

And, for the first time in your decade-long enrollment at the Bolshoi Ballet School, you think you see the infamously stone-faced stone-hearted ballet mistress smile. 

It's a cold evening in Moscow tonight. The winter winds thrash ferociously at the loose and unraveling threads of your scarf. Whilst it does little to protect you from the frigid frost lingering in the air, you wear it anyways as any warmth you can garner to combat the icy environment is, in your eyes, worthwhile.

Snowflakes dust your hair with specks of glistening white, gathering upon the crown of your head where you have neglected to put on a hat. They tickle your nose and gently brush against your rosy cheeks as you tilt your head back. Your face turned towards the sky; watching as the snow twirls and tumbles from the clouds above, gradually blanketing the ground ahead in a pristine carpet of soft white. It crunches as you walk towards the theatre, leaving footsteps on the once-untouched landscape. You take extra caution not to slip on any hidden ice - an injury is the last thing you needed on a day as imperative as this. 

Somewhere in the far distance, the Kremlin bells ring. 

Thirteen mighty chimes thunder throughout the city. You feel the ground rumble in response beneath your feet - a reminder to hurry.

Rushing up the snowy steps of the Bolshoi Ballet Theatre, you quickly let yourself inside in an attempt to escape the chilling temperatures of the Moscovian evening - and to avoid running behind schedule. 

The warm air inside greets you welcomingly. You eagerly pull off your gloves in its presence to soak up the heat it has to offer. Slowly, you begin to regain feeling into your fingers. Sighing a relieved breath, you make your way backstage as the marble floor of the foyer echoes noisily beneath your shoes.

There, you receive a not-so-calm yet begrudgingly familiar greeting. 

Pre-performance is usually like this; congested backstage corridors; a cacophony of frantic demands and directions; boxes of overflowing props and costumes rushed up and down the hall; the deafening pounding of ballerinas breaking in their pointe shoes;  dim lighting making it near impossible to navigate. However today, with your debut as the company’s newly appointed principal dancer just hours away, it feels even more nerve-wrackingly overwhelming. 

You brace yourself as you get swept away in the havoc of opening night, tangled in the rambunctious crowd as it traverses through the labyrinth of backstage passageways.

Despite the absurd amount of people crammed in corridors unable to withstand even a fraction of their current capacity, you miraculously manage to maneuver your way to the dressing room; elbow-to-rib style, ducking under boxes and weaving past those racing in the opposite direction. 

Relief hits you as you swing open the dressing room door, closing it quickly behind you as your eyes blink rapidly to adjust to the bright lighting inside. The much more quieter, yet seemingly livelier chatter of friendly conversation and girlish giggles encompasses you as you move further into the dressing room. You shrug off your coat, laying it to rest on the coathanger and take your seat in front of your dresser.

Tranquility seeps into your bones as you slouch against the chair’s backrest momentarily, soaking up the opportunity of rest no matter how short-lived the moment may be. Mentally, you take the moment to prepare yourself for the evening, and all the chaos and calamity it is sure to bring. 

Sighing, you straighten yourself up in your seat, glancing at your reflection in the mirror as you do so. 

"I didn't know you had a secret admirer.” 

You don’t turn around as the voice chimes up from behind you. You of all people know better than to entertain her playful antics. 

The voice reveals itself from its lurking in the background, resting her chin just above your collarbone and draping her arms over your shoulder. 

Your eyes meet hers in the reflection. She grins back at you.

“Valeria.” You sigh, patting the hand resting around your shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

Valeria, crowned tonight’s Black Swan, is one of the company’s longer-serving principal dancers and has self-appointed herself as your tutor and friend as of late. Graciously, she has taken you under her wing these past couple of months as you have gradually adjusted to your newly bestowed title, joining her amongst the Bolshoi’s most prestigious ranks. 

“You too,” She smirks, a little too suspiciously for your liking, pecking your cheek in greeting before returning to her seat at her vanity next to you. “You too.”

You begin to rummage through your stage makeup, tilting the mirror toward you so you can better see, before laying out your needed products on the desk space. You pay no mind to her mischievous staring as you do so. But, as you have learned over your time acquainted with Valeria, nothing can deter her from getting what she wants. And right now, that is to find out who this supposed ‘secret admirer’ is.

"So tell us then," She drawls teasingly, "Who's the lucky boy?"

The edge of your desk presses uncomfortably into your side as you turn to give her your attention. For the time being, anyways. You yourself are somewhat curious as to what she is talking about. But the sooner you can resolve this suppositious accusation, the sooner you can resume to the real issue at hand - getting ready for Swan Lake. 

Confusion stirs at her question, and you tilt your head to the side, urging her to explain further.

A ribbon-wrapped gift box is pushed toward you. You watch on, confused. 

Valeria’s legs swing idly back and fro as she gazes at you expectantly. The corners of her lips tug further into a grin at the silence that ensues and at the completely dumbfounded expression on your face. When you give her no answer, her Cheshire-cat-like grin falters. 

The girls around you giggle, peering over from their makeup stations to indulge in the drama unfolding. Valeria shoots them a look from over your shoulder, one you cannot decipher, but it quietens them down. 

“For me?” you ask doubtfully, slightly stumbling over your words as you take the generous gift into your hands. “Oh Valeria, you shouldn’t have-”

“Not from me.” She huffs.

“I don’t understand,” you mumble, eyes scanning over the gift as you look for a label, a note, a letter, anything that may reveal the gifter’s identity. “Who could this be from?”

She shrugs indifferently, turning to focus on her reflection in the mirror, transfixed on getting the edges of her lipstick just right. 

“The girls who were here before me said it came delivered to the dressing rooms earlier this hour-” She smiles at her appearance, appreciating her flawless makeup in the mirror. Placing the lipstick tube down with a quiet thump, she turns to focus her attention on you once more. 

She pokes a finger at you in playful accusation. “-Asking for you specifically!” 

It’s your turn to shrug your shoulders, unable to give her the answer she craves, for what reason, is beyond you.  

She eyes you incredulously, before returning her attention to her mirror seemingly unable to neglect her reflection for just a moment longer.

“Well,” She gestures toward the ribbon-wrapped gift with her free hand, playing an unbothered facade. You know full well she is practically itching to uncover this mystery. “Are you going to open it?”

Your eyes dart between her and the suspicious box, almost expecting this to be some sort of ruse, perhaps she had given you a jack-in-the-box and was waiting for you to get the fright of your life; her idea of fun.

Hesitantly, you begin the unravel the sheer ribbon keeping the box from opening. The fabric rubs soothingly against your fingertips, a luxury fabric you have not had the experience of touching before. It was clear that whoever had purchased this was of a wealthy background.  Perhaps, you think, you could make this into a bow to wear. 

You don’t know what you were expecting when you lifted its lid, but you definitely were not expecting a pair of .

“Aye chingao!” Valeria startles as she leans over your shoulder to get a better look.

Nestled between a blanket of draped deluxe fabric, a pearlescent pink, almost winter-white, pair of the most exquisitely crafted pointe shoes lie. You fail to restrain the exasperated sigh of awe at the sight, carefully grazing your fingertips over its silky satin finish as if the slightest touch could possibly damage them. You can confidently say, they are the most beautiful gift you have ever had the pleasure of receiving. 

“No secret admirer,” she says.” Valeria quirks an eyebrow up at you.

"Don't be ridiculous, it's probably just costuming.” You dismiss her far-fetched conspiracies, though, you find it hard to draw your eyes away from the pair of shoes, and the fact that this had definitely not come from the costume department. So who had sent you these?

"Ha, as if Mr. Baryshev would ever allow the budget given to costuming to be used for anything but lining his own pockets!” She laughs bitterly. 

“I’ve been-” Valeria exhales out a frustrated breath, “-trabajando como un burro to afford the means to get wear this!” She growls, her hands gesturing to the coal-coloured feathered fabric of her intricate bodice and tutu. 

You open your mouth to give her your consolation before a knock comes to the door. You, Valeria, and the rest of the room quieten into hushed murmuring - just for a moment. Then-

“On in 30, Ladies!” A gruff voice hollers from the other side of the door.

The room erupts into chaos.

A tsunami of frantic ballerinas surge forward towards the row of dressers, crashing against each other like the tides of a raging sea you had heard many-medal adorning men recount about in tales of some distant land. The only redeeming thing about conducting post-performance business is the stories and tales you overhear; the rest, you are not so keen on.

You take the distraction in stride, shoving the pair of shoes more like semi-worn in pointe hand-me-downs from costuming somewhere under your vanity, and replacing them with your newly acquired gift.

“You’re going to wear them?!” Valeria hisses incredulously. 

You glance at her sideways, smirking back at the priceless expression of amused disbelief on her face.

“Well, they’re shoes, aren’t they?” You jest, grinning at her mischievously. “It would be a shame not to.”

She shakes her head in mock-dissappointment, haphazardously stuffing her stage makeup in its designated drawer before firmly slamming it shut. 

“I fear my mischief is rubbing off on you too much.” She mumbles as she looks up at you, feigning a tone of dismay, only to be betrayed by the growing smirk on her face. 

“Well,” She smoothes her hands over her slicked-back bun of cropped raven hair, "I'll see you out there." 

You give her your goodbyes as she pats you on the shoulder, rising from her chair and making her way toward the dressing room’s door. 

“Don’t let the Director find out,” Valeria whisper-shouts from over her shoulder. “You know what he’s like.”

She ushers the remaining lingering corps-de-ballet girls out of the changing rooms, winking at you as she closes the door gently behind her. 

You listen as the chatter slowly retreats from beneath the doorframe, Valeria’s distinct, accented laughter mingled with that of fast-paced Russian retreating down the echoey corridor ‘till you could hear it no more. A serene silence hugs the now-semi abandoned dressing room; those, including you, who aren’t to appear until later acts remain, a more pacific atmosphere stirs, with subdued gossiping, softer laughter, and a more slowing-encroaching sense of time.

You slump in your chair. 

You have a long evening ahead of you.

The rear of house is relatively quieter now.

You can no longer hear the lively chatter associated with the pre-performance buzz, only the occasional hushed conversation resurfacing through the suffocating silence as people pass by. Walking backstage is always an awkward feat, your pointe shoes make an unpleasantly loud noise against the cold concrete floor with each precarious step you take. 

You had felt bad for having to break them in; they were an extraordinaryly well-crafted pair of pointé shoes, they fit perfectly too, and you were certain the price tag was even more extravagant. You still hadn’t resolved the identity of the mystery gifter, but you’d make sure to thank them profusely for their kindness. For now, however, you have a debut to make. 

Your feet thump rapidly as you semi-rush toward the entrance to the left wing. The further you near, the more people it seems are gathered in anticipation for their appearances onstage. The conversation is greater here than that of in the deeper bowels of the theatre where the dressing room had been. Mingling herds of ballerinas and dancers lean idle against the walls, stretching in preparation for their scenes, and chatting amongst themselves, but done so in more gentle, lower tones so as not to alert the audience of their presence a mere wall away. 

They regard you with reassuring smiles and words of good luck as you briskly waddle by; you reciprocate them with a short-but-sweet smile. 

The music grows in amplitude as you enter the left wing officially; the once gentle thrumming is replaced with an all-encompassing eruption of expertly strung-together instruments. The welcoming embrace of the song is quickly diminished though, much to your dismay because-

The rafters here have always given you the creeps. With no help from Valeria either, who  divulges in gossip of the ‘ballerina’ who had been ‘crushed to death’ by a poorly-secured light fixture on the theatre’s proscenium arch each time she catches you gazing nervously upwards at the looming space. You know it’s mainly just the technicians who lurk up in the rafters, commandeering light cues and stage transformation sequences as the ballet progresses. 

‘You have nothing to fear’, you admonish yourself. 

Still, that doesn’t stop the hair on the back of your neck from standing up as you approach the left stage-side.

Your presence goes unnoticed for not even a second. 

Someone speaks your name in a hushed whisper.

You peer over your shoulder at the source of the sound; the silhouette of a stout-statured man emerges from the left-wing doorway. He seizes you suddenly by the shoulders before you even have time to recognise the overly-touchy-friendly Mr. Ustrashkin.

You stagger at the sudden force with which he embraces you, regaining your balance with an awkward squeak. It is only then do you see the disconcerted look that his face has taken on.

“Mr Ustrashkin?” You begin hesitantly. “Is something the matter?”

“Walk with me, dear.” He requests, but he has already pulled you into motion with the firm grip of his hand on your shoulder.

The two of you trail off to the side to make way for the group of pas de corps, and for the privacy of what you can only assume to be bad news. The ballerinas smile respectfully at you, lowering their heads slightly as they account for your company before skittering off, their ghostly white tutus fluttering by behind them like swirling snowflakes. 

When the last of the dancers had passed by, Mr. Ustrashkin speaks again. You take the small queue of silence to compose yourself exteriorly for what is to come. 

“Something..." He stalls, theatrically contemplating the correct word to use before resuming. "...unexpected came up within these previous hours. A true shame it is, but Fyodor, your dance partner, has sustained an ankle injury. As you can understand, he will be out of commission for the foreseeable future, and unfortunately is unable to perform with you tonight." 

Your heart sinks. It collapses from your chest cavity like a marionette doll on snapped strings; as its puppet master surveilled with cruel glee from above. You wonder what you had done to anger God, for him to administer such a thing onto you. On today of all days too. 

“Oh, um, I-” You stumble over your words in a tangled array of shock, panic, disbelief and uncertainty.  

“None of that now, little swan.” Mr. Ustrashkin tuts, almost as one would scold a misbehaving child. 

You recoil at the unwanted nickname, but are too overcome with internal panic at the newly arisen situation to pay it much mind. Saying anything anyways will get you in trouble, and you have climbed too far into the good graces of the executives of the company to fall out of favour for something so insignificant. 

You struggle to maintain your composure, hanging on the thread of internal and external unbridled alarm. You bite the inside of your cheek to withhold any curses from escaping your mouth.

‘On all days this could have possibly happened on.’ You mumble to yourself mentally. 

“So, if Fyodor isn’t dancing tonight..” Your eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, eyes trailing from Mr. Ustrashkin and the conversation at hand to the semi-concealed view of the stage. “Who is dancing Prince Siegfried onstage as we speak?”

Swan Lake has been going for around an hour by now, but with your appearance not until the second act, you needn’t be in as much of a rush as those in the first. You had spent that time responsibly; the majority of which was in the dressing room ensuring the costuming was to standard and ogling over the anonymous gift. Much to your displeasure, that also meant you didn’t have the pleasure of seeing everyone off at curtain opening, and you hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of this ‘Mactavish’ Mr Ustrashkin had been singing his praises about to you. 

"Do not fret that pretty little head," The plump man quips. Mr. Ustrashkin pats your back, presumably in an act of reassurance, but the force which he uses almost sends you stumbling forward. "His understudy, Mactavish, has taken up his role."

“Mactavish?” Your head tilts to the side as the syllables of the foreign-sounding name roll off your tongue with a questioning implication. 

“Oh yes!” He startles with a cheery smile. “A wonderful dancer through and through. We scouted his talent in London and had him transferred from The Royal Ballet to dance for us instead.” He rambles on in recollection. “Though the two of you aren’t properly acquainted yet, I’m sure he’ll be substantial as a dance partner in Fyodor’s absence.”

All you can do is nod your head absentmindedly, hoping to be relieved of his unwanted presence. And, like all men are, his attention is quickly drawn to another. 

A loud laugh barks out from across in the right wing. 

“Valeria!” The now-agitated man growls lowly, his teeth grinding together as he storms toward her as quickly as his little legs can carry him. 

‘So that’s where she went,’ you think, half-bemused, half-concerned. You also thank her in your head for unknowingly getting you out of a conversation you no longer had any interest in being involved in.

Rolling your shoulders to relieve some tension that had been building up, your eyes search diligently for someplace to stretch before your presence on stage is needed. Finding one, you make sure to apply an ample amount of rosin to the bottom of your shoes before skittering your way over. 

The minutes pass by neither quickly nor slowly, more like a muddled mixture of the two. Your body moves without control, years and years of dedicated practice leading up to this much anticipated moment allowing your body to memorize the moves. Your thoughts, however, are the fore-focus of your attention. They rumble through your mind like a blinding blizzard, burying any logical thought with a suffocating, unmoveable barrier of bleak snow and amounting stage fright. 

The Pit Orchestra unleashes Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, Op. 20, Act 1: No. 9, Finale Andante’s crescendo upon the awestricken audience as such Zeus would do to the land below Mount. Olympus with his thunderbolts. If you dare a glance, you may manage to see Mr. Lenkov strumming his harp melodically, or his musical protégé he can’t help himself but boast about day in-day out. 

The floor beneath your feet vibrates as the composition reverberates deafeningly throughout the auditorium; you would struggle to believe the crystal chandelier that looms overhead is not swinging violently nor the champagne glasses the aristocrats’ cradle has not shattered at the absurd volume. Though, it could just be the nervous shaking of your legs.

You catch fleeting visions of the dancers on stage; their shadows flickering in and out of view like the dimming flame of candlelight. Your thoughts are once again drawn back to Fyodor’s supposed understudy. Not once had you had a recital with him, and so you could only hope he was adequately practiced for his role. 

The melody of Act 1’s final act concludes with the triumphant trill of the violin ensemble. The audience erupts into an oscillating ovation; cheering, clapping, whistling; at a volume so loud it could rival its predecessor. Your doubts about Mactavish’s adequacy are quickly disproven. 

It only brings a sliver of comfort, however. 

You linger in the shadows for a moment, trembling fingers brushing hesitantly against the fabric before you. Then, cautiously, you peer out from behind the safety of the illustrious velvet curtains. Your jittery hands fiddle with their golden tassels as you gaze at the exceedingly large audience. The auditorium of the theatre had never been so full.

You try not to let the sheer amount of people overwhelm you; a thousand thousand faces staring stagebound.

You fail.

And as the announcer commences the beginning of tonight's performance, you also fail to notice the man watching you from across the other side of the stage.

 “Bolshoi Ballet proudly presents Swan Lake!”

[glitterinmyveinss]

// say yes to heaven //

johnny knoxville x reader

authors note: Johnny goes by PJ, some things might be innacurate apologies in advance, mentions of homophobic slurs (i can say it)

❥༄ It's a warm july evening, the sunset sky looks like cotton candy, the kids are still out playing, and me and pj are on the steps of his trailer drinking some cold beers. i've known pj ever since me n my mom first moved to Tennesse at age 5. i ponder back on that moment, the memory still fresh in my mind.

❥༄ "y/n! get your boxes from the back of the uhaul girl!" my mother shouted. i sighed and made my way from the empty field to the back of the van we came in while my mother put her belongings inside our new home. a boy around my age with dark chocolate hair, warm brown eyes, and a horrendous haircut came up to me. "are you my new neighbors?" he asked enthusiastically. i nodded shyly. "cool! i'm pj by the way. my trailers right there." i glanced over to where he was pointing. i noticed a brown trailer with white stripes, white steps, and various beer cans and cigarette butts littering the patch of grass in front. i turned back to him and introduced myself back. "my names y/n. my parents divorced so we moved here." "mine are divorced too! wanna be friends?" we've been inseparable ever since.

❥༄ i set down my can with a sigh and put my hands in my hair. i've lived in the same trailer ever since, things never really got better for me and my mom. i started working at the local jcpennys working the beauty department but that's it, and Pjs been working with his dad at his auto repair shop ever since we were 13. pj turned to look at me, his brows furrowed and his eyes fixated on me. "what's troublin' you doll?" i picked my head up with a sad smile. i loved when he called me that. "whens it gonna get better peej?" i let out a dry chuckle. "i mean are we just gonna stay in this town our whole lives? living pay check to pay check?" he huffed and turned away from me. "i don't know y/n...why are you bringing this up?" "because i don't want that to be my life pj. maybe it was good for our parents but...don't you want different?" he took another sip from his can and a long drag from his cigarette and was quiet for a while. "of course i want different but it's not that simple y/n...plus the world needs workers like us and our parents anyway." i couldnt belive what he was saying. it was so out of character for him. he was never one to conform to society despite us growing up in the south where you'd get called a fag for just about anything. but people didn't care when it came to pj. he could be wearing a tutu and still look cool. that's why i didn't understand why he was giving up his future to stay in a town like this when the world had so much more to offer him, to offer us. "you know, i don't get you sometimes pj." i threw my can on the porch and sat up. "when are you gonna wake up y/n?" he shouted at me. i looked at him wint utter confusion painted on my face. he stared back at me with those piercing dark eyes. anytime i looked into them, it was like i was stuck in place, and like the rest of the world was no more, just me and pj. "w-what do you mean?" i spoke. he scoffed at me and continued, still shouting. "do you think it's that easy? that we can just leave this all behind and start a new life like that?" i huffed in frustration and crossed my arms, "that's not what i meant and you know it. i just meant that we both have dreams pj. what about your writing?" he turned away from me and shook his head, his eyes were even darker now due to his mood. i noticed there were imprints on his can due to his grip on it. "what about my writing y/n? you heard my dad." a while ago, pj shared with his dad his dreams of being a writer, and how he wanted to write for this magazine in LA, just to get his foot out the door. his dad didn't take it well at all and said he better get the wrench he asked for because writing won't pay the bills. i stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. pj got up to stomp his cigarette out. when he was done he locked eyes with me. he stared at me with such intensity, it made my knees buckle and my stomach flip. maybe it's a good thing he wore shades 99.9% of the time. i wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug him, let him know that anyone who doubted him didn't know what they were talking about. that me and him could make it on our own. but we were just friends. and he was even more stubborn drunk than he was sober. he turned to go inside then stopped. "you better get home y/n...it's getting dark." i felt the tears sting the corners of my eyes, like bees in the summer time. this wasn't the first time we fought like this, but it's the first time he didn't invite me in afterwards. usually he'd say something along the lines of sorry, or how he has some left over apple pie he needs help eating, really he would say any excuse. but this time, it was like he wanted nothing to do with me. "you're a coward philip and you know it." i shouted. "you have just as much potential as anyone else in this world to do something great, but you're scared!" he stayed with his back towards me, his fists clenched and his head low. "leave y/n."

❥༄ i stared at him until my vision became blurry with tears, which didn't take long. i've always been emotional. i ran away from him, in the direction of our old elementary. i always went there when things became too much to handle and i just needed somewhere to escape to. once i got there i sat on the old rusty swings that squeaked each time you swayed. i felt like shit. maybe i was too hard on pj. it's just that all i wanted was for me and him to have a good future. maybe the reason why i got so mad was because i imagined our futures would be us as lovers, not best friends. i wish i brought one of those beers before i left. i heard rustling coming from my left side and when i turned to look, i saw pj. i turned away and stared at the ground. it was quiet for a while while he sat on the swing beside me. "i'm sorry doll. i didn't mean to yell at you like that, you know how i get when i drink coors." i began to sob as i spoke, "no peej i'm sorry, i was too hard on you." i put my head in my hands and hid my face. pjs eyes scrunched up as he began laughing at me. "oh come on y/n, no need to bring out the water works. we're all good girl" he moved his hand and began rubbing my back. i sniffled and picked my head up, turning to him with a small smile that he returned.

❥༄ it was like that for a while. just me and pj swaying back and forth, till he spoke up. "you know i'm not a coward y/n..." i faced him and frantically began explaining myself. "i know pj i'm sorry it's j-" he cut me off. "the only reason why i'm not doing what i want is because... i wanna keep you close to me." i stayed staring at him. my eyes wider than usual, and my lips tucked between my teeth. "the magazine i wanna write for is based in LA. that means i would have to move there." i remained quiet. he turned to look at me. "come on y/n say some-" it was probably the alcohol more than me, but out of no where, i decided to kiss him. his lips were warm snd soft, i could still taste the cigarettes and coors on his breath. i felt euphoric and nauseous all at once. i pulled away awkwardly and faced him. "i'm sorry peej, i don't know-" he cupped the side of my face and pulled me in for a second kiss. after a minute we pulled away, but we were stuck staring at eachother, like one would disappear if the other dared to look away. "i'll go with you." i spoke, barely above a whisper. pj scrunched his face in confusion. "pardon?" i rolled my eyes at him. sometimes he was such an airhead. "i'll go with you to LA. just say the word and i'll go pj." he stared at me with a goofy crooked smile and picked me up from the swing. i squealed as he threw me over his shoulder. "let's start packing then. we'll get the first flight out as soon as we're done." even though i was upside down and felt dizzy, i couldn't be happier.

[thepenguinwriter]

Helloo! I sawed you are start to make about kn8 so can you do about Isao shinomiya? :)

`` 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭, 𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐨 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚. ``

𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐨 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟; 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐞/𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐚

Fair warning: I haven't read the manga yet, so if anything is innacurate because of it, my apologies!

"Tch. Idiot."

You kneeled next to the disheveled body of your husband as you patched him up after his fight with the berserk Kaiju No. 8. You let your fingers linger on his skin as you wrapped him up in bandages where the most damage had been done. Despite the rough fight, your face showed more hurt than his.

"What did you just call me?" The man asked, his gaze serious and unflinching. Though he didn't show it, he was more than glad to have you by his side after fights. You've always helped him, even now, despite the harsh scolding.

You let out a disgruntled sigh as you took out more bandages from your first aid kit and pressed it against his shoulder. The thick, warm blood which it soaked up made you hiss as if it was your own.

"You're such an idiot, Isao Shinomiya."

You knew he was powerful, everyone did, as expected from the former captain of the First Division. Yet somehow, this didn't ease your constant worries for the man, and his near-death experience with a feral kaiju just mere minutes ago didn't help much.

Your partner only grunted in response, his cold eyes watching as you packed your first aid kit away. "Were you expecting me to die?"

"Of course I was, you-!" your shout was cut off by the surprisingly gentle sensation of his finger being placed on your lips. He stood up, shifting you closer to his side. "No need for worries. I won't leave you just yet, not until I'm sure you'll be protected without me."

He wrapped an arm around your waist, and trough his serious expression, you could feel his love for you. You never understood how he remained so cold all the time, but no matter. He was alive, and that's all that was needed, right?

You nuzzled closer with a long sigh. "I never want to lose you, Isao. You know that, right?" He nodded. "I'll protect you for as long as I can, Y/N."

A/N: my first non-Hellaverse request! Thank you so much for this one, anon 🙏 I know this will most likely not be too popular with my followers, but hopefully someone will still appreciate it :,D

[coffinsister]

Hi there!

I just wanted to let you know that I'd never heard of Saya no Uta until I saw you talking about it on my dash and I was like hey I'll look into that!! I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and it was definitely an experience. I've only played the route of choosing Saya and choosing to call Ryoko, so I still have to make the other choices to view all of the game's content, but I just wanted to come say thank you for giving me the second controversial piece of media I've been able to consume without my ocd throwing a bitchfit, because the whole story is fascinating from a psychological standpoint and that definitely drew me in.

I just wish the story was a little more 3D, I guess? Like the writing is overly descriptive of things it doesn't need to be descriptive of and underwhelming with the actual voiced dialogue. It's an extremely bizarre contrast. And from what little Japanese I've learn over the years out of SpInterest there are some translation points that aren't entirely accurate.

A big one is the fact that Saya speaks in third person which is a common cutesy mannerism for small children in Japanese media. In fact, she speaks super similarly to Maria Ushiromiya from Umineko ( complete with using 'uu!' for emphasis too ) which caused me to attach quickly to her for it. While it's true that this doesn't translate well into English, it does lose in translation just how young Saya really sounds while speaking. Because in Japanese she's saying things like 'Saya did this for Fuminori because Saya wants to be with Fuminori forever!' and it's getting translated as like 'I did this to make you happy. So you'll stay with me forever, right, Fuminori?' and those are two completely different tones. In fact, it's so overlooked from the English translation that this trope of hers isn't even mentioned on the The Song of Saya tvtropes page and that's wild to me.

Sorry, I didn't meant to turn this into a rant in your inbox asjklhd. Thank you for bringing this intriguing piece of media to my attention. 💖

Hiii, I'm so sorry for taking so long to reply to this ask but it was lovely getting it, so please don't apologize! We love getting long asks, and talking about our interests <3 And I'm really happy me basically screaming into the void about it, got you into it! That's great, that's exactly why I post about the things I like.

This was very interesting to read so thank you for sending it.

Side Thought: TV Troupes actually really really sucks for this kinda thing, it is widely innacurate with big media, and incredibly lacking for small media. So personally, I would not chuck TV Tropes lacking this as much to the (very bad, like super bad) official translation, as much as I would to the site just kinda sucking.

I'm sorry if I sound harsh, the website is fun, like any other wiki is, I just have personal beef against it, do not mind me, old man yells at cloud.

The first route I finished was also the one with Ryouko, and tbh, in my opinion that's the best one, but obviously seeing the other endings gives a lot of extra information, and character depth, so I hope you play through them and enjoy them too.

And yeah, I feel you, I wish it was more 3D and that I could have cared more about the characters, the writing definetly feels too much like purple prose, and way too descriptive about meaningless things sometimes, while also compeltley glazing over others.

Also big big same about the translation, I already posted my long rant about it, but it's really such a shame, because Nitro+ is actually so good at conveying character through dialogue, like actually reading some of the VNs in Japanese is a whole new experience on its own

And exactly as you said, it would have been far easier to understand Saya is a literally preubecent child if the translation had shown how childishly she actually speaks, or another big one, we would have gotten to see more of just how badly Fuminori wants to show off in front of Saya and Yoh, if the translation had actually shown him avoiding being fully honest with Saya.

Like there's so so many moments in Japanese of him just going, Well, about that, you know... to Saya when she's asking him about their plans together, and he's very reluctant to ask her for help, even when he really needs it, until she blatantly offers it, and he takes it.

In the Official English version he literally just goes "Well, the thing, Saya is that I failed to kill Koji, any ideas about that?"

So much character missed there, I feel like also missing the honorifics isn't helpful or good, like Yoh calling Oumi, Oumi-chan makes them feel way way closer, than just college friends who hang out between classes. And it gives you a better sense that they care for each other.

My hot take about translations is that they shouldn't just accomodate to what's most familiar to the target audience, in this case USA people, it should just make the media more accesible. It isn't a failure of art if it is a bit of a struggle to engage with it, it's good to make an effort to try to understand foreign art, even when the way the text is presented, isn't super familiar or relatable to you.

This is basically what everybody who isn't from an English speaking country already does lol

[mochamish]

Hello everyone... I need help so. I don't know about the Hetalia fandom, or anything about Hetalia. I understand at least that it's about countries, etc. So... I wanted to see posts about my country (Mongolia), so I wrote Mongolia in Tumblr, and found many posts that I liked! But, I also found posts about Mongolian history, and identity,etc, by this person (irithnova).... I thought they provided an innacurate view of Mongolian history.... I also saw a drawing by peonycats, and the person that is Chinese says "I hate minorities"to the people who are Mongolian and Tibet (which are minorities). We don't want bad relations with China, and we hope Chinese people don't hate us 🙏 But this person (tianshisdead) explained to me what I did wrong, but I'm afraid it's is a little difficult to understand everything. (Though, I don't want to harass or hurt anyone, I apologize if I offended peonycats or anyone else, I didn't want to hurt anyone...) I admit, I don't know much about the history of different countries, but I always try to ask questions, read, and learn, all the time! Can anyone explain what is Hetalia about?, is it about culture; or history, comedy,etc? Is it nothing offensive or insulting (xenophobic, racist,etc)? I hope this message by tianshidead can explain what I did wrong, what I misunderstood,etc. Thank you, to anyone that explains. And I'm sorry for any mistakes, I only try to use a little of Google Translate so I can write English by myself. My best friend speaks really good English and helps me sometimes but this time it wasn't possible... Please let me know my mistakes!

[kit-the-dreamer]

Snowy °.• ♡

(sackthing OC by @thegoobiedoober )

I had this drawing pendant to finish for a pretty long time by now, as I wasn't willing to add the final details, but I believe it's finally done :3

I know I said it before (somewhere) that I dream of opening (LBP) art comissions someday, but for that I wanted to prove myself and my abilities, and see if they are worth paying for. I'm not sure what the answer for that is though, but I'm pretty proud of these drawings.

(Btw, the character reference was taken from here ♧, so my apologies if the color palette is innacurate ;w;. I hope you liked it nonethess, haha. It was fun working on it ^^)

[beevean]

On the topic of nfcv and its inconsistent; i tend to feel im harsher on nfcv and it's usage of representation since i dont tend to pay much attention to it ( It is good to let ppl see themselves on screen and its important to not fall into harmful sterotypes but it wont make or break a show for me unless its really bad). And castlevania has multiple historical/mythological inconsistencies (Matthias Corvinus rolling in his grave) and could have better representation ofc (the only poc main character i can think of is Ortega the were-lion antagonist from Legacy of Darkness the obscure n64 game). But you know? Cv's half goofy tone from it's origins as a monster smash makes it work w that, plus it's not the main focus. Meanwhile a huge selling point for nfcv has been it's ""gritty realism"" and ""seriousness"", and it's been praised to hell and back for it's "representation", when said rep isn't really good. So, i can be fine w SotN using a funny n completely historically innacurate mummy boss or having an skeleton serpent named Qetzacoatl (even if you can debate how those stereotypes can be harmful like egyptologists having to debunk the mummy curse myths), but the whole Sekhmet catgirl n aztec Orlox parts just makes me roll my eyes bc it will be blindly praised. I fear to be hypocritical here so that's my argument, and apologize for rambling in your inbox i swear this was shorter in my mind-

Pd: Yes Ortega is the og catboy, respect for him

I use this logic for Isaac lol. Yes, he relies on old and potentially offensive gay stereotypes, such as being in-your-face sexual, kinky in a creepy way, and even effectively molesting Trevor in the stabbing scene with his little kiss. And he's the villain contrasted with the more masculine hero. And he dies in the end. Yeah.

But aside from the fact that the game series overall is old-ish so outdated writing is to be at least expected, I don't get the feeling that this is meant to be "representation". And I'm certainly not meant to ohhh and ahhh at it. It is what it is, you know? The story says "here's the antagonist, he's very fruity", and you decide how to take it.

NFCV wants to be praised, and it is praised, for representation, for adding POC and gay people and cultures from all over the world, and it does so in a far less goofy setting that forces me to apply real-life logic to it. It also began in 2017, definitely at a time where writers were asked to pay attention to what the hell they're writing.

CV as a series was born as a love letter to Hammer horror movies, so it's a mishmash of monsters without rhyme or reason. NFCV wants to have a serious, real-adjacent world building, so that's why I ask "why is a Hungarian vampire worshipping an ancient Egyptian sun god"? Why are there Japanese people in Europe about a century before Europeans contacted Japan? Why is your idea of bi representation a threesome turning into rape?

So yes, I do believe that the show, in its arrogance, needs to be put at a higher standard than games written between the 80s and the 2000s. Not that they're exempt from criticism, ofc, I will always complain about stuff like the fridged women. Just... The games don't expect an applause for what they did.

[im-smart-i-swear]

tfw youre trying to reconsile with your estranged '''''twin''''''' after months of avoiding each other (their fault)(they were a dick to you)(and shot you) but they just cant stop making it weird & about how theyre a terrible person

i think these twos relationship is very interesting. at the begenning buddy treated kuro like shit bc they were projecting their self-hate and guilt on him, also exasparated by them being technically twins. later kuro moved out bc of that and the two of them didnt see each other again for months.

when they met again buddy apologised but they didnt really form any deep relationship. they are both uncomfortable with each others presence due to how their relationship started & the imposed familial status that neither of them feels good about.

buddy feels guilty for how they treated kuro, they are also aware that this is just another failure in a long line of their failures. they know they fucked up, theyre used to that feeling at this point, and they simply accept that fact. theyre sorta weirdly apathetic about the whole thing when meeting kuro again - they made peace with what theyve done wrong and are just trying to do damage control atp.

basically they said 'i know what i did to you was fucked up and im sorry. i have a history of fucking things up and i did it again. im trying to be better and i fail time and time again but i will try again anyway, even if theres a huge possibility ill just mess up again. im trying to set things right and ill disappear from your life if thats what you want. you dont have to forgive me or like me. im sorry' (<-also notice how this apology is still sorta centered around how bad of a person bud is and not what they put kuro through. buds self-loathing is still shining through here even as they are trying to set things straight. in their effort to try and explain their thought process they accidentally focused on the wrong thing!!!! they dont really mean it that way but to kuro thats what it comes off as)

kuro used to hate or at least heavily dislike bud for a long time and thinks theyre a self centered asshole and also just plainly annoying. even the apology he got from them after months of radio silence on both ends didnt feel like enough to him. it felt like buddy was just using the apology as an opportunity to say 'im a bad person. sorry for that lol it will propably happen again, do with this info what you will'. it pisses him off a bit and he propably yells at buddy for it, who is very apologetic and just takes it, which just pisses kuro even more bc he WANTS a confrontation, hes angry and hurt and is airing out his frustrations at bud and he wants a reaction but he gets none. buddy knows very well what they did and are treating this as a sort of righteus punishment

so overall. i think their relationship is just kinda like this for a few years - long periods of avoiding each other interspersed with a few outbursts (sometimes kuro starts and sometimes bud does). after a few more years i feel like things might start being better, but thats only bc they both gradually grow as people sepeartely, which just has the side effect of making them both more chill. maaaaybe after a decade or two the animosity stops and they become friendly with each other but i dont rlly think they ever get to Twin Level Closeness. at that point both of them have their own fullfilling lives and are fine with things as they are

...or maybe not. idk man im still working shit out so this might all change and in a few months this whole rant will be ooc and innacurate, who knows! i certainly dont

(Also the doodle at the top isn't meant to portray The Apology itself, its just a little scene i thought was neat, dunno where exactly it (or if it even) falls on Da Timeline)

[gorgojijijijito]

I've made it my entire personality at this point but with what I'm doing I can't really help it, being an aromantic trying to rewrite a romance is HARD oh my gosh. yes im a self shipper so im no stranger to creating 'romantic' scenarios, but those portrayals of it are only born from my complicated relationship towards platonic and romantic attraction and activity. i literally only do it because im touch starved and have trust issues and confuse that with a need for a romantic relationship. i still do it because it's fun and self-indulgent, but i know that it's going to become a big obstacle when writing scenes that are meant to appeal to alloromantic audiences in Bride of Discord. that being said, im begging you guys to hold me accountable if my input in my ramblings about it are skewed or innacurate. right now im just going off of my background knowledge for general healthy relationships.

With that out of the way, commence the rambling ig.

I think the biggest difference in the acts of love in Bride of Discord as opposed to one of the works it was inspired from, Disney's Beauty and the Beast, is that BOD's are all either transactional, or hammer in the subconscious knowledge that Fluttershy is trapped. I'll go through them one by one explaining my grievances in separate posts bc ive got a LOT to say.

First of all, our first exchange that parallels Beauty and the Beast; the circumstance of how Fluttershy/Belle came to be in the love interest's domain. This one is honestly the least offensive of them that I can think of as of now, but it still has uncomfortable elements. It largely mirrors the circumstance in Beauty and the Beast, however a forced marriage was in mind from the beginning. Fine, whatever, arranged marriage is a popular trope so I don't mind it as much.

I actually like how Fluttershy's view towards it is portrayed; she doesn't see happiness for herself in any path she takes in life, and that hopelessness she feels leads her to face her worst fear in the most head-on way possible. It feels in character for her, considering it's an act of kindness and sacrifice for Equestria, and for the mental state she's portrayed with for the prior episodes, giving up her freedom is, unfortunately, a common last resort people with depression may take in order to feel something at all. I wish the audiodrama leaned more into her mental health issues, it would have fit really well for the tone of the story and provide an interesting turn of character that we don't really look into much with a show as lighthearted and FIM. Maybe it's just me, but i love learning about and exploring stories that illustrate the ways environmental factors, be it your surroundings or peers, can influence the way you perceive yourself, others, and your purpose in life.

But nope. cant do anything interesting like that cuz discord's gotta be creepy and touch her and dote on her all the time. i get it, it can be cute for a shy character to get embarrassed for being praised, but that isn't what's happening in these scenes, as much as the drama wants to convince you it is. Discord is simply taking advantage of her vulnerability to attempt to woo her with no concern for her protests or consent, and it's extremely uncomfortable to watch. He never apologizes for it and never backs off, all it does is literally tire her out. there is no change in how he values her consent from when he returns and when she asks him to keep stroking her mane, she just feels more comfortable with it because she told him about the one time she got stood up. he doesn't respect her as a person with boundaries, he only hesitates because he's flustered that he's lost the intimidation he'd used in order to overpower her in the previous month.

I feel like it would be better if Discord uses the touching and complimenting to make her uncomfortable in the beginning bc, you know, hes a piece of shit before he gets to know her, but then, as he grows to see her as a person with her own right to agency and desires, he stops himself whenever he catches himself. When Fluttershy talks to him about the reason it made her uncomfortable, he directly apologizes for his overbearingness and actually SEES the error of his ways. THEEENnn we can gradually have fluttershy actually ASK to be touched and comforted when their relationship feels mutually transparent, as they feel no more need to feep up a front about their feelings for one-another.

[dumplingsfordays]

hihii!! my name is eden and i go by she/her. nice to meet you, and welcome to my blog!

requests : open! (for now). commissions : not familiar with tumblr well enough yet to know what this means-

read the rules before you send something in please!!

this blog contains dark content and nsfw content.

by interacting with this blog and my posts, you are agreeing to follow the RULES, which are below the cut.

i have an alt acc on which i post my art :)) : @paingobrrrrr

masterlist!!

MORE BELOW THE CUT.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

LINKS (and UIDs)

quotev

pinterest

star rail uid : 613534327

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NOTES + CONTENT INFO (just in case)

on this blog, i'll mostly write oneshots + smut from hsr and genshin!!

(cries in self-indulgent)

I get writer's block pretty often and I get super busy with schoolwork, so apologies if I take a long time to post new content :))

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RULES (will probably be updated in the future)

if you are below 16 years of age, please DNI.

i will not write for pedophilia, ddlg, a/b/o stuff, monsterfucking, bestiality, piss kink, necrophilia, or anything along these lines. if you request something that includes these themes, i will delete your request.

if you request LGBTQ+ relationships, please be aware that i am not the best at writing these types of relationships, and i probably won't represent them accurately, but i'll try my best to be as inclusive as possible. i am not homophobic or anything, but please feel free to give me feedback if i represent something innacurately.

if you're requesting, please please please be specific. i can't write a post based on one or two words. for oneshots and stuff, please specify the gender and character that you want me to include.

if requests are closed, and you send in a request, i will delete it. please respect my decision when i say that requests are closed.

if i don't reply to messages, i am very sorry. i am quite busy with life outside of tumblr so if i don't reply immediately, please don't spam me.

i will notify you if you sent a request that i am not comfortable writing for, so if i refuse to write a certain request, please respect my decision. i will make sure to add it to the topics that i am uncomfortable writing for in the rules to avoid any further incidents.

if i make any mistakes in my writing grammar-wise, feel free to tell me, and i'll gladly fix it. i encourage and appreciate feedback, as long as it is constructive and not degrading.

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ABOUT ME (you can skip this if you want to :))

~ i play videogames sometimes! some of my faves are skyrim, dbh, and honkai star rail

~ dainsleif's wifey and gepard's babygirl <3

~ raiden (c0 no weapon 😭) / acheron main (e2s1) (I'm f2p)

~ love love love music

~ screw spotify ads. all my homies hate spotify ads >:(

~ suck at art & writing but do it anyway for some reason...

~ love purple, blue, gold and black. and very cool character designs.

~ rewatch interstellar and studio ghibli films more than I should

~ analog horror, especially the vita carnis series and the mystery flesh pit, is my jam. I do get nightmares but I think it's worth it haha

~ dumpling, celsius (the drink), and peach lover!!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

have a nice day/night y'all :)

[absolutezerotolerance]

I don't think I can make a goodbye post better than the other moderator has, because honestly? I feel the exact same way.

But there is something I want to talk about and apologize for.

My IRL stalker trauma, the doxxing, death threats, suicide bait, and coordinated harassment I received from Gray/Juvia shippers and some of the people I was actively around in fandom caused me to form an opinion that I hadn't realized was rooted in purity culture. That's what led me to create this blog with their help.

I wanted a vent space to exist for those who had gone through the same thing, but a public vent space really does only encourage further hatred and anger. It encourages people to go further down the rabit hole, and to begin stereotyping shippers, driving a larger divide between people.

And that's the thing, isn't it? We're all people on the other side of the screens. Who am I to judge what brings them joy? Even if it caused me so much grief, that doesn't mean it did the same for them. It's no different from prefering a different kind of cake than someone else.

There's nothing wrong with having a different taste in fiction, and it doesn't define your morals. Not in the slightest. One bad apple may spoil the bunch, but people aren't apples, and my experiences do not define everyone's.

I have grown a lot as a person in the past couple of years, and with that I have learned just how many things that I whole heartedly believed in during my teenage years were wrong. So very wrong.

And in doing so, it's made several of the asks that we get very hard to answer, because I now see every little thing that is only feuled by hate and anger instead of the actual need to vent. There are many asks that have been deleted simply because they are wildly innapropriate and innacurate. Others that I've gone through the effort to correct, even when it lends itself to the side of Gray/Juvia shippers.

Many of those asks were outright dehumanizing all of the shippers, and thats where I draw a line. Again, the actions of some are never the actions of all. There are always exceptions, and in my case, all who hurt me were likely just a loud majority at the time. It wasn't right of them to hurt me, but it also wasn't right of me to judge all shippers by the actions of other people. And even if I though I tried not to ever judge people without knowng them first, I know I still did it unconsciously.

So while my intention was never to harm any of you, I know there's a large chance that one of my posts or something I've said has been used to harm you. And for that, you have my deepest apologies.

At one point I was a kid who had been mislead by purity culture and the lies that fictional media reflect one's morals, but leaving the fandom for a bit has helped me to see how deeply manipulated I was, both by others and my own trauma. This blog was not the right way to go about anything. It wasn't helping anyone. Even whenpeople vented here, it often just led to us accidentally validating their hatred for real people instead of just a piece of fiction they didn't like. it's not okay.

So once again, I'm sorry.

This blog is now officially dead. All moderators have left except one willing to archive the sideblog, and we will no longer be taking asks or submissions.

Ship and let ship, and try not to make the same mistakes we have. okay? Live, learn, and do better. Be kinder.

Goodbye.

When I created this blog, along side my fellow moderator, I was in a very different place, mentally. J//uvia and Gr//uvia made me angry in a way I couldn't get over and by in large I surrounded myself with people who felt the same way. I thought that venting was healthy, and I still do, but not so much in the way we went about it.

There is a difference between having a space where you can voice what you're feeling and thinking for the sake of working through them, and having that space be public. There is a certain level of satisfaction that you can get from reading metas like the ones we posted, agreeing with your side, but to what end?

Over the months we've run this blog, we've received many an-ask about how this blog has been appreciated by other fans who don't enjoy the way the ship is handled by the Fairy Tail series, itself, the sequel or by the fandom at large. And whilst there may or may not be a conversation to be had where J//uvia and Gr//uvia and what they represent are concerned, months ago I came to the conclusion that this blog is not the way to go about it. I will come back to why it took so long between me realizing this and posting this in a moment, but for our followers, I want to pose a question to you.

What conversation does this blog actually influence? That J//uvia is a bad character? That Gr//uvia is a bad ship? Okay, then, to what end? How is this blog different from the recent attacks on archive of our own, or the inter-fandom discourse about purity culture? Is the way we talk about J//uvia and Gr//uvia not in line with the same type of thinking that gets fanfiction archives attacked over hosting gay fanfiction or authors attacked in their own comments over writing about darker subjects?

And even if that were a moot point, how would it be fair to ask fans of the ship and character to have a conversation with a blog like this floating around that is so aggressively opposed to it? How can we ask fans to sit down and have an actual discussion and trust that there is a good faith to be had? Do we have any good faith towards J//uvia or Gr//uvia?

Personally, I have arrived at the answer: no. I didn't have good faith towards either.

When this blog was active, I thought that was a fine position to hold. I still don't like J//uvia or Gr//uvia or the way they are so heavily intertwined with Gray that it is impossible to search for him. But, that's my problem. That's my opinion. I've been in this fandom for just under a decade, I have fanfic authors and fanartists who I like who don't post about those topics, or if they do, I can just rely on the old adage of "don't like, don't read". Disliking J//uvia and Gr//uvia doesn't have to be this big political statement that you need mountains of evidence to justify. It is okay to just not like them. Hell, it is okay to think the ship is toxic. But there are better things to spend my energy on the venting about how much I dislike them, and the people who do like J//uvia and Gr//uvia are not evil pieces of shit for doing so, I don't need to make them into strawman arguments to show why me not liking J//uvia and Gr//uvia is the morally superior stance to hold.

In the months that I have been gone, I have moved on from the Fairy Tail fandom into another one and that above all else is what helped me flip my perspective on this. The Fairy Tail fandom was not a good experience for me, by in large. I adore Gray, and I would not trade the friends I made through Fairy Tail for the world, but those are the exceptions. There are too many ways that Fairy Tail and its fandom have warped my perception of fandom to list, but just being outside it for months was a hell of a shock.

I was so god damn scared of approaching ships and characters and topics in my new fandom because my experience with the Fairy Tail fandom made my first instinct be wariness and caution, because what if. What if the ship's fans are toxic? What if the content of the ship isn't healthy? What if other people care that I ship this in the way I cared if other people shipped Gr//uvia?

In the defense of my younger self, I was 13 when I joined this fandom. And for the majority of the decade it was my only fandom, the only one I was active in for a substantial period of time anyway. I now know that if I found and fell in love with Fairy Tail today that I would have a vaaaastly different opinion of it and its ships and its characters and its fans. I wouldn't care, is the thing. Because why should I when the alternative is having fun with the parts of the fandom that I enjoy?

Ship and let ship, it's a piece of media for fuck's sake, the people who enjoy ships you don't like are not the devil reincarnated, so leave them alone.

To the fans of this blog, I'm glad if this blog was helpful to you in some way. Be that in helping you to articulate why you don't like J//uvia or Gr//uvia or the 100 years sequel, or if the original intention of this being a productive vent space actually had that effect for you.

To the fans of J//uvia and Gr//uvia, I am sorry to have put you in the position that I did, using this blog as a weapon to paint you in a truly awful light. What I think and feel about this ship is my issue, and I shouldn't have pushed it onto you as some grand moral failing on your part.

I will be stepping down from actively running this blog, it is a piece of my fandom history that I don't want to hold onto any longer.

See you around.

[leaf-kins]

Hey! Could you give ideas for a gender neutral name /neos for our Susie (Deltarune) fictive? Thanks!

apologies for late reply ! i work at my own pace and just got de-motivated !

names;

Quinn

Toby or Tobi

Sage

Ash

Eden

______

Neos;

Purple/Purples/Purpleself

Dark/Darks/Darkself

Xe/Xem/Xyr/Xyrs/Xemself

Fae/Faer/Faers/Faerself

[yandere-daze]

Horrortober Day 16

And with a bit of delay, here we have day 16! I really didn´t want to skip this one because I had planned to write for Natsume here, another favorite of mine ^^

I´m going to try and catch up on the days I have missed but they probably won´t be posted on the actually correct dates anymore because I very much doubt I can catch up in a single day

For this one I believe I should mention that I´m not at all versed in things like magic, spells and witchcraft so I apologize if this is very innacurate to the real thing! I just thought it would make for a good story! I´m trying to get into tarot reading but since I´m just a beginner I used different websites to help find meanings for different cards. This took quite a while for me to write because I kept getting distracted while reading thorugh different card meanings kfnsnf

Prompt and challenge by @pastelbirb and @yandere-sins!

Link to my Horrortober masterlist here!

Day 16: Spell --> “It’s like you put a spell on me.” 

tw yandere, tw obssession

The shuffling of cards was the only thing to be heard in the depths of a single hidden away room at the back of Yumenosaki. There was no light source except for the small candle standing on the floor, just big enough to illuminate anything close by and nothing more. There was a young man sitting cross-legged right there in the corner as his hands once again started picking up the cards laid out in front of him and with an annoyed scowl on his face he frantically shuffled them again for the umpteenth time this evening. If the cards would just align with what he wanted to see from them then he could have stopped doing so a long time ago but as they refused to tell him what he wanted to hear, he just kept going.

On this evening, Natsume felt especially unhinged, more so than usual. For the longest time he had been enamored with you and your adorable expressions. From the very first moment he had seen you he knew that you two were meant to be together. He felt it in his very soul, there was an instant connection between you two, one he refused to ever give up on.

And he knew that you must feel the same from the way you would always blush so cutely when he tried flirting with you or called you loving nicknames. Hah, nothing could beat your embarrassed expression when he calls you his little kitten! He keeps thinking about it when he tries to fall asleep, you´re in his every waking thought, no matter what he does.

“It´s LIKE you put A spell on ME”, he mumbled to himself as images of your smiling face kept entering his mind. And then a particular recent memory came back to him that made him scowl intensely and his hands twitched as his shuffling grew more frantic. The very thought of what happened today made his blood boil.

The worst thing that could have happened, happened. That stupid mophead Tsumugi actually had the nerve to ask you out on a date and you being way too kind to refuse anyone even agreed to go with him! At that moment Natsume had really wanted to rip Tsumugi´s head off, how dare he think he deserves even a fraction of your attention? How dare he try and take you away from him? Natsume had always had an inkling that his unit mate might harbor feelings for you but he never imagined he would actually gather up the courage to ask you out. He had always been so pathetic and weak, the idea seemed ludicrous to him which is why he had never tried to discourage him from doing so. Now he really wished he did. Natsume was certain nothing would actually come out of the date, you were destined to be with him after all, but just picturing you and Tsumugi together in a romantic setting made him so unbelievably mad.

He felt like he needed to reassure himself of your eternal love so he went to his secret room in the school to ask the stars for confirmation. With tarot cards in hand, he was fully prepared for them to just tell him what he already knew, so why wasn´t it working out how he had envisioned it? In the countless of hours of reshuffling and redrawing his trusted tarot cards, Natsume had seen the Five of Pentacles one too many times now so that every time the card popped up again, he grew more and more desperate. This just couldn´t be true, loneliness and abandonment, rejection? No there must be some kind of mistake! So he kept reshuffling the cards, hoping for the outcome he wished. But no matter how often he tried, the stars refused to confirm what he already knew.

The longer he sat there in the confines of this room, the more restless and frustrated he became. Then a thought crossed his mind. If fate decided to be stubborn with him then he could also just take a look if there was even a chance of success of a relationship between you and Tsumugi. Maybe this was just a fluke and there was nothing for him to worry about, there would be no blossoming feelings between the both of you! He wouldn´t allow it in the first place.

So, with renewed vigor Natsume posed a different question to his cards. “Is there ANY chance of a RELATIONSHIP between y/n and TSUMUGI?” Then he concentrated his energy on the deck of cards laying in front of him and repeated the question a few times in his head before dutifully shuffling the tarot cards again. When he finally felt satisfied and his fingers grew itchy to finally have his answer, three cards fell out of the deck in his hand on their own. Knowing that this must be a sign from above he laid them down in a straight line in front of him and with bated breath, he flipped all of them upright.

With widened eyes, Natsume almost felt his heart stop as his eyes gazed at the now visible three cards in front of him, before he felt it beating faster than ever before. His eyes started twitching in anger and at the moment he wanted nothing more than to rip the three cards apart that were mocking him so very clearly, he wanted to forget this ever happened.

The Sun, The Lovers and The Fool all laid out in front of him in upright position, all of them major arcana which meant they had profound meaning.

This really couldn´t be happening now, his mind was swirling as he repeated some of the keywords related to the cards he just drew. Success, positivity, happiness, supportive relationship, balance, union, a new relationship.

He let out an unamused, dry laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation. He had been obsessed with you for o long, did everything to make you view him in a positive light for a chance at a relationship. And now that stupid mophead just decided to come along and steal you away from him just like that? It wasn´t fair! He punched the ground in frustration as he grit his teeth.

“Just WHAT is my ROLE in all OF this?!”, Natsume screamed out in frustration and wildly threw his arms around, utterly enraged and furious. While doing so, he accidentally knocked over the deck of cards he had shuffled beforehand that had still been sitting on the ground in front if him. Disgruntled he leaned down to reorganize the cards back into a neat pile, silently cursing to himself while doing so. Just then he noticed that under all the thrown around cards, there was a single up-face card sitting at the top of the whole mess. Picking it up to study it closer in the candlelight, he soon came to realize that the card he was now holding was in fact The Devil in upright position.  

It was another card of the major arcana, symbolizing addiction, obsession and a lack of regard to a partner´s feelings. Speechless for a second, Natsume then let out another long and loud laugh, finding it all very funny in a twisted sense, was this the universe answering his earlier question? Mulling over it a bit more, a wide grin stretched over his face.

Yes, he could work with that. He knew how utterly obsessed he was with you so there was really no chance he would let you go anytime soon. He would just need to help fate to get back on the right track again, won´t he?

A plan quickly formulating in his plan, Natsume got back up on his feet to take a look at the many vials sitting atop the shelf next to his cauldron.

Now where was that rat poison he had stored away somewhere around here?

[bitterlybisexualbard]

A lot has been said about Fantasy stories including rape, sexism and homophobia in the name of “historical accuracy” or excusing it as okay because “that’s what it was like back then” while also including dragons/magic/balltothewall crazy shit that never happened.

I’d like to mention a few mundane things that European (usually British) medieval era inspired fantasy stories tend to be historically innacurate about to counteract claims that it’s because it’s a medieval world where dragons/ballstothewall crazy shit did happen but everything else was the same:

Fireplaces. All those early medieval hearths and extravagant mantles? Inaccurate. You’re talking Elizabethan period (late medieval, long after the usual fantasy preference) before chimneys were invented. And even then, they caught on fire and/or exploded. Like, a lot. 

Clothes. Need I say more? There are tons of amazing people on youtube who can entertainingly explain to you why corsets would not be used in medieval times, stays would not have likely suffocated women, why passionate, spontaneous love making probably wouldn’t involve (or require) naked women, etc. etc. etc.

Unemployment. Your hero, free as a bird, travels from town to town seeking his fortune, telling possible quest givers he’s looking for work... and gets arrested for being unemployed in a town he wasn’t born in. He better be in town flashing cash or with ample evidence of his successful freelancer status.

Books. More valuable than most treasure. No, your hero did not learn to read them from a friendly local mentor. Unless your friendly local mentor was Alfred the Great I guess. Great literacy program, that guy.

Armour and weaponry. Usually all wrong for the period they’re using. Not always, but often enough to show lack of serious research into the era they’re so ardently defending via constant rape apology.

Horses. They existed, but as has been pointed out more than once, if your early medieval universe is modelled on Britain or most of Western Europe then your characters ain’t gonna be seeing them all that often, if at all. Again, you’d need to be later medieval. The kind of late that writers and directors avoid because of the silly looking outfits and prelude to the industrial age.

Bedrooms. Your character does not sleep in their own private bedroom. No, listen to me, they don’t. Yes, even if they’re wealthier than average. See previous point about fireplaces. Those fuckers weren’t about to put personal space above not freezing their balls off. Unless they’re nobility (even then heavily depending on exactly which medieval period and what time of year), they’re sharing a bedroom and quite possibly a bed with multiple people. If they even have a separate bedroom from the main living area.

Racism. Sure, it happened. But it wasn’t even vaguely the kind of bullshit we got later on and was its own flavour of nasty, so maybe shut up about it if you aren’t making any new or meaningful points and are claiming historical accuracy points. Also, black people were no strangers to British shores in the medieval period. 

If a writer writes a story full of misogyny, racism and/or homophobia it is because they want to write about misogyny, racsim and/or homophobia. It has nothing to do with historical accuracy.

Sometimes they have good reasons, most often they have bad, lazy, privileged reasons. But next time you excuse child brides or rape as “historically accurate” or “just how it was back then” in a fantasy world?

Look for the fireplace.

[eunoiaflow3r]

My Hatred for Captain America, Explained: From the movie POV:

📸: @layoutsblue

Reason Number One:

After 70 years in a coma, he awakes and just expects everyone to follow his orders, even though they haven't even agreed on a leader or anything. "Captain" please 😒.

📸: @peachstorm

Reason Number Two:

In Civil War, he didn’t sign the papers. That really wasn’t a big deal, but this is where my hatred for him began. For years, Tony and Steve argued and bickered fighting over who was the “leader,” and it seemed as though they had finally gotten over themselves and finally started to become friends. Tony Stark wanted everyone to sign the accords that he though would help, but Steve refused and decided to just go it alone when he could have had a whole team in support of him when it came to Bucky. (see comments for further explanation).

📸: @maximoffedits

Reason Number Three:

As if they didn’t have enough on their plate like the government on their backs about destroying the city, Steve decides to put a team of good guys to fight another team of good guys to fight each other. This was avoidable and didn’t need to happen. If Steve would have tried to come up with an agreement or something, or told people about his situation, Tony would have made it so that Bucky could have joined the Avengers and they would have been able to tell Ta’challa that it wasn’t Bucky’s fault. (see comments for further explanation). Then, Bucky could have told Tony what happened to his parents after they had already established a relationship and became friends. That way, Tony would have understood a little bit more. Plus, if they had discovered signing the papers wasn't beneficial like Steve thought, Tony and Bruce would have found SOME way to undo it. You know they would. (see comments).

📸: @marvelocks

Reason Number Four:

Since he and Bucky decided to fight the Avengers, this lands HALF OF THEM IN JAIL. Tony goes after them to try to talk some sense into Steve and tell him that they could just go back and what does Bucky do? Pulls a gun on him! Like bro, this isn’t about you! ANYWAY, 2 minutes later, Tony is shown a video of Bucky brutally murdering his parents that Steve Rogers was apparently “friends,” with. When Tony asks him about it, he’s hesitant to admit that he knew anything about it. Just as they were becoming friends, Steve pulls this. Tony is rightfully angry, so he goes after Bucky. Yes, Bucky was under mind control, but an apology goes a long way. He did not apologize, and both Steve and Bucky end up beating him up and for what? Because he was rightfully upset??

📸: @layoutsblue

Reason Number Five:

His letter. Steve’s apology letter was horrible. If I was Tony, I would have ripped it to shreds as soon as I had it in my hands. Tony should have gotten a sincere apology in person, not a couple of words on paper. “I’ll be here if you need me.” Tony needed you to tell him the truth YEARS ago. He needed you to be a friend, and tell him the truth. He needed you to sign the papers so that you wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. He needed for you and your friend not to beat him to a bloody pulp for something YOUR friend did. How does this make any sense? Besides, you’re a war criminal now. How am I gonna need you? Of course, this could have been avoided if he signed the papers, told Tony the truth, and let Tony help him and his friend.

📸: @marvelocks

Reason Number Six:

He was 27 when he went into the ice. 66 years later he woke "immortal." He was supposedly 20 when he joined the army and received the serum. So, his life basically started at age 20. Seven years later he falls into a coma. 66 years later he wakes up and fights crime for 15 years. He fought in the war and as captain america for 7 years. Woke up to fight for another 15. 15 plus 7 equals 22. 22 years fighting (with breaks in the middle), and he decided he’s done? He goes back in time so that he could die of old age and marry a woman he hasn’t even been on a date with? Thor is literally over a 1,000 years old, and has fought many wars, and lost EVERYONE and still chose to fight. Yes, he took breaks too but he didn’t just say, “Hey, yo, I’m over it, I’m done. Bye.” He came back even though he was depressed and blamed himself. Tony and Steve were the literal leaders of the avengers. Tony died saving the galaxy. Nat died saving the galaxy. What’s he die of? Old age. On top of that, he leaves his best friend THAT HE FOUGHT SO HARD TO BE BY. He and Bucky were literally separated for about 80 years, and after all you’ve done to save him and be by him, and save him, YOU LEAVE HIM FOR A GIRL YOU”VE NEVER EVEN BEEN ON A DATE WITH WHO ALREADY HAS A FAMILY???!? All I’m saying is if he wanted to settle down that bad he could have asked Thor to introduce him to some immortal girls.

📸: @layoutsblue

Reason Number Seven:

By going back in time, and growing old, this means that he would have had to not save that bomb or whatever from going into the city. You just killed thousands of people.

📸: @twtarchive

Reason Number Eight:

Kissing his ex loves niece?? TF?? And by going back in time, didn't you total her existance?? Plus, Peggy already had kids and love, did he have to ruin that for her? She said "my only regret is that you didn't get to live yours" (your life) she never said, "my only regret is that WE didn't live our lives."

📸: @m4rvelstuffs

I'll probably add more when I think of it.

Some of this might be innacurate cause I'm not like a super fan or anything but like...I hope you get the point.

Feel free to add stuff.

Also, can a Cap super fan talk to me bc I used to love him before Civil War and I want to love him again but my hatred is just overpowering my love.