#i still haven’t fathom the anthology section like at all

[ddelicatemp3]

i had no idea what i was even clicking

[rwbyconversations]

RTX RWBY Day 3 Panel Summary

Same panel as Day 1- RWBY Girls, Miles, Kerry, Gray and Paula.

Gray has begun specifically identifying that he voices Torchwick in Chibi only.

Kerry tells everyone in advance that this is just the same panel as Friday. Even though Kerry specifically said on Friday that this was meant to be streamed, the Mixer crew again cut to black for episode 14 of Chibi. I’m beginning to hope they don’t come back for RTX 2019 or that they don’t handle the London streams.

Super Evil Cinder from the dream in episode 14 uses the same expression as Blake had in Teenage Faunus Ninja Catgirl.

Chibi has two panels today. The second one is based on more technical stuff, while the first is more of a “fun Q&A.”

Same news as Friday and Saturday- Fathom screening on October 25th, CFVY book, Rock Band, Manga anthology release dates and announcement of Shonen Jump adaptation.

During the news, someone in the Mixer comment section asked where Monty was. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry so I just said “... should we tell him?”

Gray confirms that RWBY will be in the CFVY book.

In a shocking display of confidence from the Mixer team, we actually were allowed to see the Rock Band commerical and the Amity Arena trailer.

They don’t have new announcements for Cross Tag but they insist it was a good experience. A player using Ruby and Gordeau actually won a tournament at Evo during the weekend.

Adam trailer aired again and the stream was cut. At least this time when they cut the stream, they waited until Kerry was finished speaking. Kerry repeated that it would be up in two weeks.

M&K took a week off after volume 5 wrapped and then got balls deep in volume 6. Kerry came back in “a new man.”

Kerry specifically highlights pacing as a thing that’s improved so much thanks to the new system for writing.

Connor (the android sent by Cyberlife) Pickens (now I can’t make that joke anymore damnit) was promoted to co-director. Kerry says “If you like a scene, assume it’s him.”

An actual kid dressed as Link asked: Is there gonna be a kid character? We’ve seen baby versions of RWB, Ren and Nora. Also Miles confirms a kid character in Volume 6. Barbara ruined it by saying Yang got herself pregnant (and when I say ruined I mean I was actually shocked that Barbara said that when a kid asked the question like god barb time and a place Jesus).

Favorite ships and what does your character ship? WE WERE SO CLOSE, ONE MORE PANEL AND WE’D HAVE MADE IT. Lindsay- Nuts and Dolts, Kara- White Knight, Miles- Abstains since he’s a writer. Kerry- Neptune and Zwei, just hanging out. Barbara- Bumblebee and selfcest. Arryn- Bumblebee, Seamonkeys and Black Sun(!). Gray- Roman and his hat.

How do you find the time to get the cast who live out of Austin to record? For the most part, if they live out of Austin they record over Skype or another software. It’s better to have them there, but it’s not a deal-breaker. They still do the same amount of takes, it’s just that they’re not there. Arryn records in Sunset Studios.

Vibrating Arm Man from last year is back. He asked for a hi five with his toy Yang arm.

How have the technical improvements changed the writing? Miles: We don’t have shadow characters anymore. A lot of the tech improvements are just quality of life improvements for the tech crew. Kerry and Miles are confident in the team and have faith in them to make the scripts work. They don’t think it’s improved the writing.

Favorite weapon, VAs can’t chose their own. Velvet’s Camera (Kara), Neptune’s trident (Arryn), Nora’s Hammer (Barbara), Gambol Shroud (Miles), Reese’s skateboard (Lindsay), Gunchucks (gray), Coco’s purse (Paula), Ember Celica (Kerry).

What goes through your head when you kill a character? Kerry’s not sure if he’s ever written a death scene without tearing up. He sometimes wonders if the first person to read it cried. They try to make sure it feels like a just, emotionally satisfying death. When writing Chorus for RVB, Miles had to go for a walk after writing Doyle’s death.

Does Tai have weapons? Kerry: Have you seen his weapons? Miles says he does, we just haven’t seen them yet. (RIP the “Tai fights bare-knuckle” headcanon)

Looking back, any episodes or scenes you regret? “OH GOD YES.” Hindsight is 20/20. Miles looks back on Volume 1 and how the episodes were broken up with a lot of regret, particularly the Jaune arc. There’s a lot of things they would change going back. Lindsay would love to go back and re-record Volume 1 (beware the squeak).

If you could have a crossover episode with RWBY and another RT product, what would it be? Camp Camp, Strangerhood.

Mixer strikes one last time and cuts the gang off mid-goodbye. The true villain of Volume 6, ladies and gents. Mixer giveth and Mixer taketh in equal measure.

And that’s it. Three days of panels. There’s still two Chibi panels so if good info is there I’ll cover them as well (I’m going to a BBQ so I’ll likely miss them). Thanks for joining me, and to all the (many, many) new followers, I hope you stick around. 

[axiumin]

Absolution | Chapter Two

Back at it again with part two! This time, there’s more interaction with Youngjae and the beginnings of that burn. 

Pairing: Youngjae x Reader

Genre: Drama, College!AU

Words: 2.5k

Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4]

You had writer’s block, which was just about the worst thing that could happen to you when you had less than twenty-four hours before your faculty advisor expected to see a completed draft of your term paper. You tried your damnedest to get anything decent written, but every time you’d finish penning a line, the words seemed to glare back at you, jarring and insufficient.

Not for the first time, you cursed yourself for choosing creative writing. In hindsight, you couldn’t fathom how you thought a program that forced you to write creatively on a deadline would be even the slightest bit good for your mental and emotional health, but here you were.

Suffering.

And veering quickly for the melodramatic. Obviously, sitting around and agonizing in your cramped apartment wasn’t going to do you any good. Maybe a change of scenery would help kickstart your creativity, you mused. Or, if it didn’t, at least you could continue to suffer in the relative comfort of one of the library’s study rooms.

You stood and stretched your arms over your head, groaning when you felt your back give a satisfying crack. It didn’t take long for you to gather your things together and make your way to the library.

It was early evening, and with a few weeks still left in the semester, there weren’t any students rushing around in the panic of midterms or finals. The campus was still and silent, and the library was no different. Only one student lingered in the lobby, and they were utterly oblivious to you, their face buried in a sociology textbook and their headphones blasting music that you could faintly hear halfway across the room. The only other person around was Youngjae, working the front desk, and you felt your shoulders sag in relief at the sight of his familiar face.

And by the way he broke into a bright grin when he caught sight of you, you figured the feeling was mutual.

“What brings you here at this hour?” he asked when you made your way to the desk. His voice was quiet out of habit; you both knew you could speak louder without disturbing the only other library denizen, but you were perfectly content keeping your voice soft, too.

“Writer’s block,” you said simply. Youngjae’s face twisted into a look of sympathy.

The campus library had attracted all sorts of student employees, you’d found. Erika was a third-year psychology and social behavior major, and you were halfway convinced that she was the person who kickstarted the trend of perfectly color-coordinated and organized notes. She was brilliant and tenacious and orderly almost to a fault. If anyone could take over the world, it would be her.

Jiseob was an art history major. He was remarkably down to earth, and he often joked that he would likely work in a diner once he finished his degree. But you knew that he was hip-deep in faculty-led research projects. For all that he wrinkled his nose when he talked about grad school, you could think of no one else who could handle academia with such aplomb.

Akram was perhaps the chattiest computer science major you’d ever met. He was the only STEM major among your little pack of coworkers, but he took it in stride, easily keeping pace with conversations about everything from Romantic-era art to slam poetry. Jiseob liked to joke that Akram was a real Renaissance man, and Akram didn’t even try to hide the way he preened under the compliment.

Youngjae was the only one who was also in your creative writing program. He was a year ahead of you and could empathize with your struggles more than anyone else you knew, which you supposed was part of the reason you were so relieved to see him. If you trusted anyone’s advice at this junction, it would be his.

“What are you working on?” he asked, leaning his elbows against the counter.

You sighed and fished out your laptop, opening it up right there to show him.

“For my term paper, I wanted to write a fictional narrative that brings in elements of confessional poetry. I wanted to wrestle with ideas of life and death from the perspective of a widowed woman in her 50s, but I’m having a hard time making things feel authentic. I guess that’s what happens when you try to write about life experiences that aren’t your own,” you said, shrugging.

Youngjae’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “That’s pretty ambitious,” he said, but it sounded more like affirmation than admonishment. “But if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

The doubt must have shown on your face because he was quick to press on. “I mean, sure, you’re trying to write a confessional style from a perspective that you haven’t really experienced, but the key is that you’re writing about a human experience. Everyone wrestles with mortality in some way or another, right? You just have to try to find a way to convey your own feelings through the voice of a fictional character.”

“You make it sound so easy,” you said, a bit drily.

Youngjae rewarded you with a fleeting half-smile that made him go from sweet to rakish for just a moment before he returned to his usual neutrally sincere expression.

“It is,” he insisted. “Or, at least it can be if you know how to do it right. I can find some references for you, if you’d like.”

Now more than ever were you grateful you’d made the journey to the library. “Please.”

Youngjae busied himself with the computer for a moment, typing in some author name or other, and it took just a moment for him to turn back to you.

“Ah, we have some Sylvia Plath checked back in right now. Why don’t we check her out?”

You shrugged. “I’m game. What section is she in?”

“I’ll just show you,” Youngjae said, already moving out from behind the counter before you could respond.

“You realize I work here, too, right?” you noted as Youngjae began leading you into the shelves. “Like, I know where the sections are and I don’t even need directions or anything.”

Youngjae didn’t even look back at you, just shrugged. “I know. But it’s boring in here, and now I finally get to do something.”

Well, you couldn’t begrudge him that, you supposed. Besides, it wasn’t like he was bad company in the slightest, even if you had to trot a bit to keep up with his quick strides.

It took no time at all for Youngjae to pluck a book from one of the shelves and hand it to you. It was a slim anthology of poetry by Sylvia Plath, and you began flipping through the pages idly as Youngjae spoke.

“Confessional poetry became kind of popular among American authors around the 1950s and ‘60s. Plath was just one of several who became well-known for this style. She’s not exactly a 50-something-year-old widow, but she definitely had her own dealings with life and mortality. I thought maybe you could draw some inspiration from her.”

You dragged your fingertips across the paper, tracing the letters. “You know a lot about this, even for a librarian,” you said quietly, not tearing your eyes from the page. In the corner of your eye, you saw him shrug.

“Everyone has their stylistic preference. This one happens to be mine.”

You looked up at him in clear surprise, and he ducked his head sheepishly.

“I know, that one always tends to surprise people.”

You shook your head. “No- I mean, yeah, but.” You stopped and licked your lips, trying again. “I just don’t think we’ve ever talked about our inspiration and preferences before. Somehow.”

As a matter of fact, it occurred to you that you didn’t know much about Youngjae at all beyond your friendly conversations at work. You knew him well enough to consider him a friend, but you didn’t know much about him.

As if reading your mind, Youngjae said, “I tend not to talk too much about myself, to be honest. It’s a bit ironic, considering that I’m fascinated with the idea of people laying their emotions bare. There’s just something about the vulnerability of putting yourself in words like this, you know?” His gaze fell to the slightly yellowed pages of the book. “And not only are you putting yourself out there, but it’s permanent. The written word can outlast lives by centuries. It’s powerful.”

His eyes flashed back up to yours and it was your turn to look down at the book.

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” you admitted. Sure, you were interested enough in confessionals, or else you wouldn’t have chosen that stylistic approach. But for you, it was more about venturing into unfamiliar territory. You were more focused on stretching yourself as a writer rather than the implications of that style.

“Not a lot of people do,” Youngjae said with an easy shrug. “I probably think about it too much. I just think I’m hoping that I can learn how to be more honest, myself.”

You felt your eyebrows creep up your forehead. In the months that you’d worked with Youngjae, you’d never seen him as anything less than kind, open, and sensitive.

“Aren’t you honest now?”

That wry smile came back, and Youngjae shook his head. “Not as much as I should be. Now more so than ever, I guess.”

You let that statement hang in the air as you mulled it over. It was surprising to hear him say that, but you supposed it was actually perfectly relatable.

The heavy silence was broken when Youngjae huffed a quiet laugh.

“This is all pretty topical, isn’t it?” he said, eyes crinkling. “I mean, with the whole Ars thing, it seems like confession is the hot topic this semester.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “I guess so,” you said. “Though I don’t know how many of those confessions are quite as deep as this,” you said, snapping the book shut for emphasis.

Youngjae just shrugged. “Maybe. But that’s just human nature, isn’t it? Everyone has different needs, different concerns. Some people may make a joke of it and post about how hot their TA is, and others may share trauma they’ve carried with them for years. Either way, don’t you think it’s important for people to be able to share parts of themselves like that? It’s hard to live with secrets all the time.”

You hummed in thought. “What about Ars?”

Youngjae blinked in surprise. “What about Ars?” he echoed.

“Well, people are releasing a part of themselves when they submit the confessions, right? But then Ars is taking those confessions in, and all Ars does is post them around campus. Is that release for them? Or are they left living with other people’s secrets on top of their own?”

Youngjae frowned. “Maybe they’re into that sort of thing. It’s not anonymous to them, right? Maybe they’re just looking for leverage over people. Maybe they’ll just turn things around on those confessors.”

You were taken aback. You hadn’t expected Youngjae to suddenly speak so negatively of Ars after all that talk of confession, and frankly, it wasn’t like Youngjae to play devil’s advocate.

A frown tugged at your lips and you shook your head thoughtfully. “I don’t think that’s the case at all,” you said. Youngjae seemed a bit surprised at your conviction. If you were honest, you were surprised, too.

For the second time that evening, silence hung between you, this one heavier than the last. You couldn’t quite describe the look on Youngjae’s face as he gazed at you.

Just as his lips parted to speak, you heard a muted thump and a “Hello?”

Both of you turned to see the sociology kid from earlier staring back at you from the front desk. The textbook was sitting on the counter, and he had a chagrined look on his face as he glanced back and forth between you and Youngjae.

“I’m finished with this book,” he called hesitantly.

Just like that, all tension was dispelled, leaving you with a gusty sigh.

“I should, uh, take care of that,” Youngjae murmured. You nodded fervently.

“Yeah. Yeah, go do that. I’ll just,” you held up the book, “go work for a bit.”

After some awkward shuffling, you managed to make your way to a study desk tucked away in the corner of the room. You sat down heavily, your head buzzing with thoughts of your conversation.

You mused about confessionals, the act of confession, and what that meant for you— and for your paper, too. Your fingers drummed against the table as you deliberated, but it wasn’t a difficult decision, and you were soon unlocking your phone and opening instagram.

What better way to get in the mood for writing a confessional than to start by confessing?

In no time at all, you opened a new message to Ars and typed out your confession, releasing another heavy sigh when you pressed send. You spared a moment for you to sit back and scrub a hand over your face, and then you were shaking off your thoughts and opening your laptop to get to work.

You immersed yourself in your writing, and when you finally sat back, the hour was late and the campus beyond the library window was pitch black. Your muscles were stiff and tired when you rose from your seat and neatly packed away your belongings.

You took a quick detour to return the Plath anthology to its rightful home before making your way back towards the front desk. You had to stifle a pang of disappointment when you realized that Youngjae was gone, replaced by a sleepy-eyed Jiseob. He waved lazily at you, and you returned it before pulling your jacket tighter around you and heading out into the night, your shoulders weighed down by your heavy thoughts.

When you awoke the next morning, you were relieved to find that the strange musing mood had eased. Your mind was surprisingly clear as you went through the motions of your morning routine, as you gave your term paper a final proofread, as you printed it out and placed it delicately in a portfolio folder. Nerves simmered low in your stomach, making it flutter unpleasantly, but it was easy to ignore as you walked across campus towards your faculty advisor’s office.

What wasn’t as easy to ignore were the stark white letters sitting at eye level on a pillar right outside of the humanities building’s side entrance.

“I don’t think I know how to stop being critical of myself and my work.”

The stenciled lettering was pristine, protected from the seasonal rains by its position under the building’s awning. You stood there for some time, just staring at your confession, shocked that it would manifest so shortly after you’d sent it in. Yet your shock was mostly quelled by a wave of relief. In the light of day, the swell of frustration and helplessness that had compelled you to pen these words seemed somehow manageable. 

You felt something that felt a lot like determination settle inside of you. You gripped the cardstock of your portfolio tighter and turned on your heel, ready to stand by your completed work.