#in this house we protect atlas

[almostfoxglove]

BLOCK PARTY

written for @auteurdelabre's TROPE OFF! challenge & a special thank you to @jolapeno for coming up with this idea - ilysm!

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Joel Miller x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 4.6k | TROPE: FAKE RELATIONSHIP CW: Tooth-rotting fluff, so much soft!joel, a tiny bit of protective!joel as a treat.

SUMMARY: After your ex moves into the neighborhood, Joel offers to pose as your boyfriend at the annual block party. It shouldn't be hard to pretend for a night, since he's hopelessly into you.

read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist

Joel remembers the day you moved into the house on the corner perfectly—that orange craftsman with the cute triangle yard and a pergola on which the last owners let their wisteria die, left empty for nearly half a year. He’d just gotten home from a job, sweat-stained and spent, desperate for a shower when he’d heard the hum of an unfamiliar car. He’s not curious by nature, keeps happily to himself, but that day he found himself spying out through the picket of window between his curtains, wondering who it might be.

Thank god he did.

Thank god, too, that no one else bought that house. Has a little wrap around porch, a red door. Whole block wanted it—hell, Joel even heard the couple left of him consider it one evening. We could sell, one had said, hushed and conspiratorial, then buy that one.

But they didn’t, and a few weeks later you and your beat-up hatchback rolled up into the driveway, gifting Joel one measly glimpse of the back of your head as you rushed inside. No sight of you the next day; you kept the curtains drawn. But two evenings later a moving truck squealed up the quiet street and Joel, well. Joel happened to be near the windows when the truck happened to stop outside your orange house and happened to catch a look at you slogging down from the porch to roll up the back of the van with a distant grunt, unveiling your boxes and towered belongings.

He was pretty much a goner right then, right there. 

Because you looked miserable, an Atlas lugging the world on your shoulders. Dark shadows clinging to the hollows of your cheeks. Your hair pulled back and greasy, your t-shirt a size too big, puddled at the hem with a stain. And maybe he’s getting soft or was from the start, because against his better judgment and the complaints of all his tired joints, Joel jogged out of his house and right on up to you. Offered to help you carry it all inside.

Took an hour to trek the boxes in, twenty minutes to tetris the couch, and another thirty for the rest of the furniture. One lampshade broke, for which Joel will never forgive himself but you swore it was fine, insisting it wasn’t one you liked, that it belonged to an ex. 

The whole evening sped by and bruised blue, and Joel’s stomach sank just a little when it was done. Though his body howled and ached, he wouldn’t have minded if it’d taken eight more hours to haul all that shit into your house. Might’ve offered to help you unpack if that wouldn’t have been a creepy thing to do.  But you shook his hand in thanks, gave him your name and a stiff smile, promising him dinner, or muffins, or whatever the fuck neighbors do as you walked him to the door with the urgency of a vampire who has only a few minutes left to black out all the windows and doors before sunrise. Hurrying him out, wanting to be alone.

When his own front door was latched, the house dead in its quiet, Joel swore to himself that once you got settled, he’d find some way to tell you that you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, that the caw of laughter you let out when he’d dropped the foot of your couch on his ankle was the best fucking sound even if it did bruise purple and green, that all the furniture you own is somehow perfect and warm and exactly what he’d never think to buy but would love to come home to, and that just shaking your hand made him feel like a kid again. That he’d pretty much do anything to be the one who puts a smile on your face.

But you’ve lived across the street three years now and he’s never told you. 

Can’t now. It’s too late. You’re friends.

And anyway, these days you smile plenty on your own; you don’t need him. Took the better part of a year, but you perked up. Transformed that triangle yard into an Eden, built trellises for sweet peas and tomato vines. Every year, bushels of strawberry plants bloom in summer and rows of squash unfurl in autumn. Stalks of bulb plants flower every month right on cue. Your birdfeeders never vacant, the little wooden house driven into the yard on a stake dizzy with mason bees in spring.

Three years after you moved in, no one would ever believe Joel if he told them how you’d looked that first day. Her? Can’t picture that girl sad. Her? The one who’s always smiling? You’re messing with me.

Now, both of you swaying on his porch swing—looking out into the rutted wasteland of backyard he swears one day he’ll landscape—Joel watches that old shadow cross your face as you lift your lemonade to your chewed-up lips. He can see it. The light in your eyes swishing dark like you’ve drawn the curtains. For three years he’s watched you build yourself up, coax yourself into the sunshine, only to have it extinguished by your ex—an ex who’s moved in just five houses down.

It might kill him to see you like this again.

Joel might kill the bastard just to prevent you any more harm. Burn that goddamn house to the ground. He’s glad that he broke that lamp when you moved in. Not that he says.

“C’mere,” he says, stretching out one arm, and without hesitating—without even turning your head to look at him—you sink against his side, cheek squished to his chest. A torture and miracle, the gift of your touch. How you have, over the years, decided to trust him. 

“Of all the fucking neighborhoods to—” you start to say, but your voice cracks, betrays you, and there’s a jagged edge to your next breath that makes Joel’s whole body yank with pain. “Of all the fucking neighborhoods for him to choose.”

“I know, darlin’,” Joel mumbles, resting his chin on the crown of your head. Praying he doesn’t imagine the way your body deflates at his touch.

“Block party’s gonna suck,” you sigh, and if he closes his eyes Joel can almost imagine that this is something that it’s not. That if he wanted to, he could kiss you right now, touch you properly. Pet and lick and fuck every thought and worry right out of your head. That your heart’s racing even half the speed his is right now. 

You must hear it, he thinks—with the shell of your ear resting so near that traitorous organ—but if you do you don’t say a word.

Joel squeezes your shoulder. “Don’t gotta go alone,” he says. 

This stiffens your shoulders, holds your breath. You peel yourself from his side and evening sun paints your face orange as a clementine, gilds your eyes with tendrils of gold. Your brows pinch together so sweetly, curving down above your nose as a laugh rises to your lips. “Right,” you chuckle. “Sure.”

“I mean it,” Joel says, and takes his arm off you to sit up straighter, rocking the swing. “Could go together.”

He’s not sure why you look so surprised. You’re friends. You go places together. Lunch, the movies, to the grocery store. Shit, you drove him home loopy from the dentist after they cracked out his wisdom teeth. Took photos of him after you waddled him into his house, drugged up and chipmunk-cheeked. Relished showing him every snapshot for weeks afterward, giggling and pinching his face until he blushed. 

Going to the annual block party together seems a hell of a lot more neighborly than that.

“What,” you say, still smiling at him like he’s crazy. “And you’ll pretend to be my boyfriend?”

It’s possible Joel’s heart stops. All his thoughts certainly do. All sound, reasonable logic floats away until all that matters in the world is your face, your gob-smacked smile. The dissonance of what he was offering and what you heard.

“If you want,” Joel hears himself say.

And that’s that. He digs his own grave.

If anyone was around to see Joel’s face when he first lays eyes on the guy, they’d probably assume you used to date the devil himself. Jaw grinding, arms crossed tightly over his chest, every nerve flayed and hair on end—doesn’t seem to matter how much you assured him that your ex isn’t a bad person, Joel hates the guy. If he were a younger man, as reckless as he’d once been, he’d knock the guy on his ass for daring to step foot in the neighborhood, let alone buy up a place.

You’re with Joel in your front yard showing off the mason bees that dart in and out of their paper tubes when something flickers in the corner of Joel’s eye—a man running on the sidewalk, earbuds in, sweat pooled in a V on the front of his t-shirt. He does a double take at the sight of you. 

Joel squares his shoulders.

The guy comes to a jogging halt, pops an earbud out as he calls your name, and Joel’s heart might rip clean out of his chest when your face falls at the sound of his voice, all the pride in your smile snuffed in the blink of an eye. You turn so slowly. Wave a little sheepishly. “Hi.”

“Do you—” the guy starts to ask, his bright eyes flickering between you and your orange house.

You nod. “Three years now.”

His eyes damn near pop out of his skull—this, at least, is one small comfort. He had no idea you lived here. He’s not following you or nothing. As you rub the back of your neck, suddenly quiet, Joel hears your voice in his head saying, You’ll pretend to be my boyfriend? 

Guess that starts now if you wanna sell it. At least that’s what Joel tells himself as he takes a small step closer and settles his hand on the small of your back over your t-shirt. Swears he can feel your every tiny twitch beneath his palm, every degree of your body heat. There’s just one second of lag before you inch closer, too, making a shrew of his nervous heart. Blood races in his veins; his stomach turns to molten gold.

A twitch snags in your ex’s cheek and Joel’s lips tighten, fighting back the smug urge to smile. Tucked against his side, you look up at Joel and he can’t help feeling like next to you is exactly where he belongs. Perfect, you smile before drawing your eyes away, and slip your arm around his waist. 

“Sorry,” you say, grinning in a way Joel’s not seen you manage since this jackass showed up. “This is Joel. My— uh—boyfriend.”

Maybe heaven is one beautiful lie.

Joel must be a greedy man, because he slips his hand up your spine to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest. It’s either the best or worst feeling in the world, the way you don’t resist for a second. The way you melt against him, your hand gripping at the hem of his t-shirt over his hip. 

“Right,” says your ex, still doe-eyed when he meets Joel’s blackened stare. “Clark. S’nice to meet you, man.”

Joel hmphs , gives him fuck all but a stiff nod, and for just one second you turn your face into his chest like you’re trying to smother a laugh. Pride has never filled him quite as quickly as it does now, knowing he’s the cause. That he’s put that smile on you, making you bite your bottom lip. He’s the one who’s made this gentler on your heart.

When Clark takes off again, you and Joel wait until he disappears around the corner to withdraw your arms, then you break into stomach-y laughter, smothering your face in your hands. “Oh god,” you wheeze, your whole face split by joy. “His face. That was—shit, that was incredible. That felt so good.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Joel looks out into the empty street to hide his blush, focusing on the golden light of August’s showboating. It’s a perfect evening, oak trees gossiping in the balmy breeze. It’s small, sure, but knowing he’s made you feel so good sets him on fire, fries his brain. He wants to make you say so good, so good, so good, in every possible way. 

You snort, you’re laughing so hard. 

“Happy to be of service,” he mumbles.

“Jesus,” you go on, and he turns to find you’re wiping your thumbs under your eyes. “That felt so much better than I thought it would. I think you might be a genius.”

Sure, genius. That’s the word for it.

On the day of the block party, you ask Joel to creep across the street at the break of dawn, insisting that people could be setting up, and, wouldn’t it look weird if we didn’t come out of the same house? We have to look like we’re sleeping together, dumbass. He only managed to restrain himself from suggesting that he just sleepover by the skin of his teeth, so tempted by the thought of being close to you at night—even isolated on your couch, so many doors away from your dreams.

But he’ll take the morning. He does. As early light sets the asphalt ablaze, Joel slinks across the road to your house, finds your front door unlocked, and lets himself in. Inside is cold like winter, the air-con cranked, and you’re on the couch in a sweater that’s cuffed at your wrists, coffee smoking in your hand, your legs folded up beneath you, bare.

“Morning,” you say, when you see him, a kind smile on your lips.

Joel shuts the red door behind him, clears his throat. “Mornin’,” he says.

There are hours until the block party begins, so you and Joel kill the morning on your couch watching shitty TV and drinking enough coffee that Joel’s hands begin to shake—though maybe that’s just the cold, the air frigid in a way that transcends summer. Maybe it’s just you. You, transforming leftovers from your fridge into a breakfast hash, rich with cilantro from the plant on your windowsill. You, knocking your knuckles against his arm whenever you laugh at something stupid he’s managed to say or a joke on screen. You, handing him his refilled mug or breakfast bowl or taking them back to wash up, brushing your fingertips against his hand. Every time.

It’s a jolt to his whole system, this small meeting of your skin.

Soon the television is challenged by the din of your neighbors setting up tables and booths and games for the kids—at which you straighten on the couch, craning to peek through one of your picture-frame windows. A sigh blooms from your lips, then you set down your mug.

“Should put clothes on,” you tell him as you rise, legs unfolding. You look so soft. Joel knows you would be. “Gimme a second.”

Then you’re gone, and his head falls down against the back of your couch, the heels of his hands grinding into his eyes. It feels like you’re only gone for a second before your footsteps pinch down the stairs once more. “Headache?” he hears you ask, catching him with his hands still over his eyes. “Did I give you too much coffee?” 

You’re teasing. Joel can hear your smirk as his hands slip back down to his lap, craning over the back of the couch to look up at you, and the world crumbles below him and falls away. Brows folded low over your eyes, you slide your hands down your front to soothe wrinkles from the skirt of your red sundress that only you can see. Slack-jawed, Joel finally manages to sit up, then twists to look back at you properly—perfect, that’s what you are. Every temptation and every vice and every poison he’d willingly drink.

“The dress is too much, isn’t it?” you say, sounding worried now.

He shakes his head, fights not to reach over this goddamn couch and pull you onto his lap. The thought alone makes his cock twitch traitorously in his jeans. You’re close enough that he could. You’re right there.

“S’perfect,” Joel croaks.

You let out a sigh of relief and nod before moving toward the door for your shoes. With his last remaining sense, Joel turns his head just before you bend down to reach for a pair of sandals. This was a terrible idea. He sees that now. A huge fucking mistake. 

But it’s too late to back out now, because you’re already calling him over, sliding your hand into his as you step out onto the porch like this is normal, like you’ve done this before, like you don’t mind his sweaty palm. Outside the street is a racket, a flurry of children chasing each other between driveways and neighbors cracking the caps off beer bottles, a painted banner strung over the road between two maples: 

B L O C K   P A R T Y ! 

He hears you make a quiet hmph sound of amusement as you draw toward the crowd.

Joel waits, but to his surprise, no one asks why you’re here together, why you’re holding hands. Sorta figured you’d have to do the awkward uh, yes, it’s very… new for everyone, but nobody asks. In fact, when you vanish momentarily from his side to get drinks—the ruffle of your dress flirting with the tops of your thighs—someone tuts sweetly to Joel, “I knew it.”

Then you’re back before he can blush, two bottles sweating in your hands, and the neighbor vanishes the second you pass one to him. Your forehead has pinched up with nerves. Must mean you’ve seen him, Clark or whatever, and Joel’s a man of his word—you’ve asked him to do a job—so he glides one hand around your waist and presses his lips to your temple. Mumbles softly, “I’ve got ya,” against your skin as he breathes you in. There’s something sweet in your perfume, he thinks. Lilac or honey.

As if on cue, a soccer ball zips beneath the banner and a moment later it lifts as someone chases after it. Clark, obviously, looks up, sees you in the nook of Joel’s arm, and tucks the runaway ball under one arm without a word, then takes off in the direction he came from without so much as a nod.

Joel feels your chin jut into his chest as you squeeze him, smiling. “This is gonna be fun,” you grin.

Joel takes a deep breath to keep himself from hoping. That glint in your eye—one part mischief and another affection—ain’t good for him, but he can’t help the twitch at the corner of his mouth, that instinct to return your smile. “Careful, darlin’,” he mumbles, and as he brushes his thumb across your cheek you lean into his hand. “Face might stick like that.”

Rolling your eyes, you say, “What, you don’t like it like this?”

Though he only hmphs, Joel suspects you know that he does, in fact, like you very much like this: smiling up at him like he’s painted the sky with stars just by standing at your side. 

How quickly the day passes with you beside him. For every year he’s lived in the neighborhood Joel has too attended the block party, but like most obligatory functions, he finds himself worn down quickly, always the first to leave, retreating into the quiet of his house when he’s reached the end of his meager tolerance. When he’s had too many conversations and seen too many faces too close together and he’s desperate for quiet, for sleep.

It’s different with you. You buffer so much of the polite conversations he’s never been good at having with grace and ease, always drawing the focus away from him just as he starts to feel it’s too much, like you can tell when Joel’s at the end of his rope. Sure, he’s still gotta stand there while you chat to whoever about mixed up mail or work or garden soil, but so long as they’re looking at you, that swell of too much never comes. He can just stand there, sipping his beer or lemonade, and focus on the swipe of your thumb across his knuckles as you hold his hand. The heat of your body when you lean into him.

By sundown, Joel forgets that it’s all pretend. He forgets this is nothing but a favor between friends.

Now the food has dwindled, that summer smell of hotdogs dissolving from the air, and all the lawn chairs once relegated to each person’s lawn shuffle into the black street as cicadas form their nightly orchestra. You don’t have any lawn chairs, but Joel’s got two. Always has—he doesn’t know why. Only ever just him at these things.

Maybe he was hopeful, back when he bought them.

It’s hard not to feel—as he drags both out to sit at the back of the crowd—like he was waiting for you. He just didn’t know it at the time.

“So prepared,” you tease him, as you settle into your seats. 

“Keep it up,” he replies, his eyebrows warning in their slow rise. “I’ll take that chair you’re sittin’ on.”

You scrunch your nose. “No you won’t,” you say.

Obviously he won’t. But you don’t have to be so cute about it. 

Then a sudden chorus of children shrieks, announcing the first firework. There’s a hissing, then a dart in the darkness, and a small spark of golden light cracks open overhead. A smattering of applause simmers, punctuated by oohs and awws, and all the kids giggle every time a sparkler booms. Beside him, the glitter of each explosion forms a galaxy in your eyes, your lips parted with wonder. The prettiest thing Joel’s ever seen, just like that first day. After a while you notice that Joel’s not watching the show, and turn slowly to look at him, your expression open and tender.

“Missing the show,” you say.

He shrugs. “I’ll see ‘em next year.”

When you smile, he wants to kiss you so badly his heart might actually stop, strangled by its longing.

But your head whips back at the thunder of a vibrant firework—a dandelion of neon blue and searing white—and the moment passes. Then Joel watches your smile falter as your eyes fall into the crowd; Clark, sitting up near the front of the pack, is looking back at you over his shoulder. Trying to be subtle and doing a shitty job; head snapping away the moment he sees Joel’s glare. 

“Ignore him,” Joel says, and reaches down to wrap a hand around one leg of your chair, dragging you closer to him. You let out a giddy yelp of surprise and draw your ex’s attention again. 

This time you don’t flinch or falter. One glance at the guy and you’re reaching for Joel, fist gripping the collar of his t-shirt to tug him toward you. He’s got no chance to think, to panic; it happens too fast. Your sweet mouth closes over his—not for a peck, but a real kiss. Lips parting to taste his bottom lip, a breathy sigh passed from your tongue to his. Joel’s lost all at once, no use resisting. His hand curls gently over your wrist to keep your grip on him as he tilts his head to lick into your mouth. 

The fireworks fall away.

You taste like lemonade and hops and the raspberry cobbler someone cooked up, and there’s not a cell in Joel’s body that doesn’t swoon at the way your lips chase and melt into his, humming softly against his mouth when he cradles the back of your head in the palm of his hand. How you tug gently at his bottom lip before you draw away, forcing his hand to slink from your hair.

Clark’s staring. Your lips proud and grinning. Plush and kiss-bitten. Looking every bit as calm as Joel feels walloped. You hm smugly to yourself and drop your head on his shoulder, attention once more captured by the crackle of fireworks Joel forgot were happening, and even though he’s a fool for agreeing to something he knew would rip him up, he can’t bring himself to regret it. Not when you’ve kissed him like that. Not when you’re lying against him still, even though Clark has turned away.

The whole rest of the show passes in a dizzy haze. A blur of shattering light, and the heady weight of you leaning against him. Near the end you slip one hand over his knee. Your ex isn’t watching, doesn’t see the way your thumb glides slowly across the denim of Joel’s jeans, intoxicating. 

It feels, or else he hopes, that it’s just for him. 

The night is black by the time he walks you home, all your neighbors disappearing into their darkened houses, his lawn chairs stowed safely on his porch, and even though everyone’s gone when you reach your porch you still don’t let go of his hand until you’re at the door and you have to get out your keys. 

Your lock surrenders with a metal crack and you let your red door swing open. Inside your furniture beckons from the shadowed living room, cozy and soft. But you hesitate in the doorway, looking up at him. Joel has to put his hands in the pockets of his jeans to keep himself from pulling you against him properly, and pinning you to the wall. 

You scrunch your nose at him again. “Thank you,” you say, and your bottom lip pinches between your teeth as Joel’s gaze falls to your mouth. “Was actually pretty fun, in the end.”

Joel nods, drops his eyes shyly to his shoes. “I had fun too,” he manages to say. 

Your sandal nudges the toe of his boot as he stares at his shoes. “Y’alright?”

No, he’s not alright. He knows what it’s like to kiss you now—how the hell’s he supposed to go on living with that, and not ever have it again. “Mhm,” Joel lies, head snapping up to meet your gaze. He mistakes the look in your eyes for discomfort, thinks he must be keeping you from your night, from sleep. That after you were so sweet to him all day, he’s got the nerve to bother you. His heart winces as he forces himself to take a small step back. “Sorry. Don’t wanna keep ya.”

“Oh,” you say, face falling a little. “Okay. Goodnight then.”

There’s no way the pathetic flinch of his lips looks anything like a smile as he mumbles a sorry g’night.  

Then your face shrinks slowly in the closing gap of the door, a darkened look haunting your face that Joel swears—in the split second he sees it—almost looks like disappointment. Like you don’t want him to go. 

When he licks his lips, Joel remembers the plush of your lips, the soft hum you’d made when he licked into your mouth, how you’d leaned into his hand when he cradled your head. How your ex could never have seen or heard any of that sitting so far away. 

Maybe you just wanted to. God, he hopes you wanted to.

So before he can talk himself out of it, Joel’s hand jumps out and smacks flat against your door, holding it ajar. Through the slender gap he watches a grin bolt across your face as you sigh thank god and grab hold of his shirt, hauling him through the doorway to crash your lips against his.

dividers by @thecutestgrotto - tag list & some mutuals!

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[kataraslove]

how do you feel about people saying Katara post the show was just a “house wife” and a “baby maker”? I personally think it’s super stupid and fucked up…while I do understand the criticisms for the comics ESPECIALLY the promise. TLOK criticisms for her character are pretty damn dumb to me…honestly the only thing I can get is the critical for her not being at Jinoras ceremony.

something that the original show does really well is present the dichotomy of katara; she's hot-headed, stubborn, determined, argumentative, protective, a fighter and a warrior. at the same time, however, she's presented as compassionate, kind, caring, nurturing, a healer. atla does an incredible job to avoid caging katara into one facet, unlike other media that tend to restrict their female characters who present feminine personalities into the group's resident healer/mother teresa figure. fighting and healing are core tenets of her identity. she uses both of these aspects of her identity to win the war, to save the lives of her friends and family, and most importantly, connect to and honour her decimated culture.

i don't think tlok makes an attempt to capture the fighter aspect of her identify, hence where the argument that "she was reduced to a healer" comes from. yes, she's incredibly old. yes, she deserves to rest after a lifetime of fighting. however, you could make the argument that toph and zuko are still in active combat mode during their old years. it's an all or nothing scenario; either everyone in the remaining gaang deserves a fight scene or no one gets one. so i can see where that criticism stems from. however, much of the criticism also stems from the fandom's refusal to correlate power with healing; to see how being a healer is an honour in it's own right, especially in the atla world where it's the equivalent to being a doctor (and katara would be the most renowned doctor there is).

katara does not deserve a shoe-horned fight scene where she's going to be tossed down in the snow five seconds later (like zuko) or where she's going to complain about her back problems (like toph). i can go on and on about how toph’s depiction in tlok is another form of sexist writing, but i think this post highlights it perfectly well and captures everything that i wanted to say.

if it were up to me to write tlok katara, i would:

have spent more time exploring her role in the white lotus. how much input did she have on korra’s training during the south, because i doubt caging her up until she’s 17 and delaying her spiritual journey is something that katara necessarily would have agreed with. i imagine that she would have (should have, at least) a lot of sway in the decisions surrounding korra as a world leader and legendary hero [per avatar legends]. if not that, even as korra’s waterbending master, the companion and spouse of the previous avatar, and the mother of the only airbending master in the world, would be enough to earn her decision-making title.

actually have her take part in the council of elders, especially during the civil war in book 2. no bryan konientzko, a tumblr post explaining that you can see her on the council of elders while your show is airing isn’t enough. we should have gotten katara’s perspective on the independence war currently happening with her tribe. particularly, it would have been an excellent opportunity showcasing her leadership abilities that we saw in imprisoned and the painted lady, encouraging her tribe to fight for their justice and independence.

expand upon her relationships with her children and grandchildren. yes, the legend of korra isn’t about katara or any of the former gaang members. but jinora, tenzin, kya, and bumi are all important characters that should be defined by their respective relationships with katara, much like how they’re defined by their relationships with aang. bryan and mike shy away from featuring former members of the gaang to avoid nostalgia bait, but there comes a point when deliberately avoiding the presence that your original characters play on their successors ends up hindering the success of your show. i think katara should be a critical character in the subplot between her and aang’s children, providing her perspectives on her husband’s parenting and relationships with their children.

have her actually leave the southern water tribe. if toph can leave the swamp to stop kuvira, and zuko can leave the fire nation to stop the red lotus, then why was katara constantly portrayed in the southern water tribe? there was an excellent opportunity to have her attend her granddaughter’s air mastering ceremony. i actually disagree with claims that the writers were avoiding having katara and zuko in the same scene specifically because of zutara; i think they didn’t want any of the former gaang in the same place. hence why we don’t ever have zuko and toph meet, or katara and toph (i know toph mentions katara by name, but i truly believe that that was a throwaway line serving as a substitute to appease the audience’s thirst for old gaang interaction. kind of like a, “here you go!! toph mentions her. now shut the fuck up.”)

give her a statue representing her bravery, courage, and determination. this one’s self-explanatory.

she didn’t need to be present at the bloodbending trial if the focus was for the avatar to take away yakone’s bending (and her being a bloodbender, i mean.. there’s NO WAY for anyone else to suspend yakone if she’s there). but i do believe the show should have mentioned something about katara not being able to there last-minute, due to tensions in the south or whatever, and how they cannot delay yakone’s trial even by one week.

i disagree with criticisms that katara became a “baby-making machine” for the air nomads. there’s no substantial support that katara and aang had children solely to repopulate the air nomads. there’s contrary evidence, in fact:

tenzin was the only airbender. if katara’s purpose was to serve simply as a baby maker, aang would have tried to have more children. from a writing standpoint, i think the narrative would have gone out of its way to portray kataang’s family as only having airbenders, or having more airbenders than non-benders or waterbenders.

we would have seen a lot more children in a relatively short time period. bumi, kya, and tenzin have sporadic age gaps, indicating that their conception wasn’t really at an urgent pace, but something that katara and aang took their time with, due to life events and circumstances.

as for whether the show turned katara into a “baby-maker,” by highlighting her family relations over her career prospects, i disagree. i don’t think we’re shown anything about katara in the legend of korra; i think we’re presented with limited information about her on all aspects. from a family perspective, all we know is that she had three children with aang. the narrative goes one step further to even separate her from the family conflict, such that the cloudbabies do not pull her into their grievances with their father and childhoods. kya and bumi’s overall arcs are about embracing their father’s legacy, while tenzin’s arc is about moving away from his shadow. from a career perspective, we know that katara at some point banned bloodbending, became one of the best waterbenders and the greatest healer in the world, then trained korra. in fact, katara’s relationship that is given the most narrative weight is her relationship with korra. i can understand if people’s criticisms are her being reduced to korra’s mentor and a healer, but i will not be able to understand the baby-maker or housewife claims simply because there is no proof.

if we’re examining tlok katara, i think there are many criticisms to be held, many missed opportunities and abandoned threads, but i do not agree with fandom extremes that she was ever presented as a “baby-making housewife turned healer.” i disagree with claims that tlok emphasized katara’s legacy as only having children (particularly her one airbender child). especially because tlok goes out of its way to separate her role in her children’s life, instead emphasizing her role in korra’s life. narratively, we get more exploration of toph’s storyline with her children than we get with katara.

as for the shitty gene yang comics that mischaracterizes just about every member, even momo and appa, i’ve got much to say on that. i think the only comic worth exploring is north and south, and katara’s portrayal in that. rather, there’s a particular criticism of katara’s portrayal in north and south that i want to rebut.

[rachetmath]

Yang Priorities

Yang: Hey Jaune. 

Jaune: Yes?

Yang: Remember that question me and Winter asked you?

Jaune: Yes. 

Yang: Be honest with me then am I a good sister?

Jaune I mean you are better than me but not better than Winter or Sapphron.

Yang: How so?

Jaune: Yang you have been doing Ruby dirty for a while.

Yang: Not true.

Jaune: Yang on her first day you abandoned her. How do you think we met?

Yang: um.

Jaune: Our initiation, you never once tried to save her. Weiss did that. 

Yang: Okay but that was because she needed to toughen up. Especially if she is going for the big leagues.

Jaune: Okay. First mission.

Yang: Oh come on, I was asleep. I found her and hugged her.

Jaune: Okay. After the fall of Beacon. 

Yang: Okay you can not fault me for that. I was going through it. 

Jaune: You were crying over a girl. At least she was alive. 

Yang: I lost my arm.

Jaune: Protecting Blake who you were crying over. And you got a new one. I stepped up and went with Ruby to Mistral.

Yang: I eventually came back.

Jaune: You did. But not before going after Raven. The deadbeat.

Yang: She was my- 

Jaune: Bitch, you could've just called once you were close to the city.

Yang: It would have taken me hours. 

Jaune: You had a bike.

Yang: Still.

Jaune: Okay then back Blake. You talk shit about how your mom did you dirty. But suddenly when Blake did the same shit and came back you forgave her.

Yang: She's different. She did it to protect us. 

Jaune: That's great. But here's the thing, um, we were in danger anyways. What the fuck do you mean?!

Yang: … … I-

Jaune: And the crazy part is, you prioritize Blake a lot more than your own sister.

Yang: Not-

Jaune: Yang, Beacon you gave her a lecture because she was obsessed with the White Fang. 

Weiss: Then in the house, you got Blake out first before Ruby.

Jaune: Yang you were against telling Ironwood a lie and called Ruby out on it. 

Weiss: Not once but twice.

Yang: Weiss!

Weiss: You're right. He is going to do the same thing to me. But still.

Jaune: But all of a sudden when Blake wanted to talk with Robyn you agreed to that shit! With no debate!

Yang: Okay that-

Jaune: Then when that old lady talked bad about Faunuses, you were ready to talk shit considering your girl is a Faunus. 

Yang: Okay, I-

Jaune: Nah, bitch, I am not FUCKING done. The Ever After you were crying over your sister, but before, what were you doing that you didn't notice her having a mental breakdown?

Yang: Umm… well-

Jaune:  See bitch I should- Ooh. Ooh.  

Yang: Okay but-

Jaune: And then when she finally broke down. Start yelling at Blake, you jump in front, protecting her, from your own sister. 

Yang: Okay but I am still there for her.

Jaune: You're right. You do. But still, you need to start balancing Blake and Ruby because if you don't, then your relationship will be just as bad as Qrow’s.

Yang: Yeah you're right. But hold on what makes you worse?

Jaune: Yang, I have seven sisters. The one sister you met, I allowed all of you into her house. Eat her food. Cracked her walls. Risked her wife’s job and in danger her whole family to get us to Atlas. And guess what, I never told her about Salem or the mission we're on. She's probably worried sick especially because I barely write to her. 

Yang: Damn. 

Jaune: In fact I haven't talked to my family in years. I haven't spoken to anyone in my family since Beacon.

Yang: What? 

Jaune: You heard me.

Yang: Oh my God, Jaune, you need to go home. 

Jaune: *stressed out* I know!

[howlingday]

Honestly I'm tired of reading fanfictions where Blake is show to be a shallow hypocrite and a coward. "She ran away from her friends!" Yeah because her best friend got her arm cut off by her psycho stalker and wanted to protect everyone. "She is rich princess lying about the her struggles!" She went to rallies she left home for 4 years trying to help. She fought people on her own for the cause.

I know I said I never seen the show but I hate when people put down Blake like that. Is she perfect? No she has flaws but even in funny stories when cranked their not funny their mean.

As somewhat valid as these arguments are, these comments are kind of... narrow-minded. At least from my perspective.

Blake was our connection to how the Faunus operate in the world of Remnant, including the members of the White Fang. She works herself ragged when she learns they're in Vale, and any other instance is her trying to get them to stop because, let's face it, being violent terrorists does more harm than good.

"Oh, but Blake abandoned her team~!" ACTUALLY, she ran away to keep the White Fang from attacking her friends more than they already were. She believes the White Fang attacked Beacon because she was there. Was she self-centered for thinking that? Look at Adam and tell me she wasn't justified.

"She was living like a princess in the biggest house on the island~!" ACTUALLY, Ghira is a chieftain, likely an elected position that he took on as one of the founding members of the original White Fang. What he does now is keep Faunus from joining the White Fang and causing harm to Menagerie. Blake left to join the White Fang because she thought Adam was right, then left for Beacon because he was SUPER wrong AND she probably was like anyone else who left for what they thought was right and didn't want to come home to a potentially toxic, "I TOLD YOU SO". Would her parents do that? I want to say no, but we don't have any evidence to prove or disprove this. Also, Kali is best mom, fight me.

I won't say Blake is flawless, because she isn't. She's got a martyr complex and risks her life on the most menial subjects to make up for the sins of her past as a member of the White Fang. And it's when the New Fang is made with her Dad as the leader, it's all because Blake stepped away from amongst the roaring crowd of violent terrorists and said, "Not like this."

Compared to Sun, who is a Faunus "scoundrel" who does what he wants, Blake seems like a stiff who only cares about what the White Fang are doing. Compared to Ilia, who is a Faunus who lived in Atlas as a human and suffered as her parents died in a mining accident, Blake comes off as a whiny, shallow princess who doesn't understand the real struggles of the Faunus around her. Neither of these takes are true, though because Blake cares about what the White Fang are doing because she doesn't want what she's seen them do to happen to her friends, and because she's seen all sides of the issue, she cares about the plights of every Faunus suffering regardless of their status. Ilia and Sun are her friends, and she would do just about anything to help them, and she did.

Believe me, as a guy who constantly sees Blake hate in the discord group chat, I understand where you're coming from, being sick of seeing so much animosity built over a character, who, in all honesty, doesn't deserve it.

So, yeah. That's my ramble about RWBY's Blake Belladonna. Thanks for skimming over it.

"BUMBLEBY-"

THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT!

[that-one-kiddo-in-the-back]

Is anyone else tired of bickering siblings? Nope, just you.

I decided to rewatch Lily’s videos from New to Old mainly because I am very bored at work... this is gonna be a long one, so buckle up.

This was probably the worst topic for Lily to talk about, especially since this was posted after the "I've been harassed and lied about for 12 years"

Now we all know this video was made to talk about ATLA, make a jab at Courtney, and bring up how much she hates she-ra and SU and since she never answered her own question of "is it weird for siblings to cuddle?" I will.

The "normalization of toxic siblings" I'm sorry to say isn't toxic. Siblings fight all the time, not because they have no ability to talk calmly. It's because they are stuck together for the majority of their lives, and they but heads more often. There's a difference between sibling bickering and siblings threatening to kill each other, and more often than not, a siblings fighting will just yell how much they hate each other. If you're threatening to kill your sibling and you mean it, that's not a healthy relationship.

Zuko and Azula: Of course, you can't have a video about siblings without bringing up Zuko and Azula or Katara and Sokka... Lily talks about how Zuko and Azula aren't the tragic siblings that were doomed from the start, and both had the chance to get a way and break the cycle... which like isn't true. Zuko had the advantage of being able to rely on his uncle, while Azula didn't really have anyone to go to. She couldn't hide out at Mai's house her parents were fire nation politicians. She couldn't go to Ty Lee as she ran away from her own home and, in the end, both betrayed her, leaving only her father, whom she already knew favored her over Zuko. She also talks about how Azula, for the most part, was also trying to protect Zuko and how deep down she really loved Zuko... which, while not wrong, is also not correct. Something she seems to have forgotten is that Azula is a lot like her father to the point that it scares her mother. Azula manipulates people into getting what she wants, something I'm sure she picked up on by watching Ozai. When Azula came into Zuko's room in the middle of the night going all, "lalala daddy's gonna kill you." That's not her being worried for Zuko and trying to save his life. That's her taunting him. When Ursa dragged Azula out and demanded her to tell her what the hell Azula was talking about, then she changed her tone to sound like she was worried about Zuko only for Ursa to turn around and you see the victorious smile on Azula's face. Zuko and Azula are the perfect toxic siblings molded that way because of their father's abuse.

Katara and Sokka: Probably the most healthy and normal sibling relationship they fight and argue, but they still protect each other when you watch Katara and Sokka. You can almost see you and your sibling in them. Sure, you fight with each other and end up saying things you don't mean, but at the end of the day, you are willing to die for them.

Tai and Kari: I have never seen digimon as I'm more of a Marvel disk wars kind of person, so I've got nothing...

Lily ends up dropping the word Enmeshment, which she defines as "when two or more family members can not live or make decisions without each other beyond comfortable personal boundaries"

This is what you DON'T WANT to be with your sibling or when writing siblings. If you are so close with your sibling that you're nothing without them, then you really need to spend some time a part because that's not healthy at all. There is no good enmeshment! being close with your sibling is one thing. She brings up how, depending on the culture, it's fine when it isn't. When someone says you need to stop what you're doing because your dad is in the hospital, that's not enmeshment. Having your father talking about cheating on your mom and expecting you to be on his side, that's enmeshment.

Lily seems to have forgotten that you can be close with a sibling or family member without it being something disgusting. There's a difference between dropping everything to help your family and dropping everything to be with your family. Siblings and families don't have to say out loud "I love you" because most already know that.

So, is it weird for siblings to cuddle? The answer depends. The reason Lily couldn't answer her own question was because it's a really stupid one. If you're able to keep that platonic good for you, keep it that way.

[onlinekitsune]

ೃ⁀➷ PAIRING, GENRE, WARNINGS: mammon/gn! reader, hurt/comfort, protective mammon, also loving and affectionate mammon, warnings for: bullying, mostly like rumors around reader, nothing graphic, physical, or detailed

ೃ⁀➷ SYNOPSIS: nothing could prepare you for attending a school mostly made for demons. you didn't know what to expect or what not to expect. however, having rumors spread around you wasn't anywhere near your guesses. you'd thought that was just a human thing, clearly you were wrong. you kept them just between yourself and strayed away from the brothers. never expecting the impact that it would have on one brother in particular.

ೃ⁀➷ WRITER’S NOTE: hello my beloveds!! i hope you are doing well!! i wanted to throw a lil thing out real quick. i'm still working on the cyoa, it should be out soon!! also wtf i never expected to hit 1k on ANY of my posts or even be close to 200 followers! it's a small achievement i suppose, but i started this blog out of impulse! and never intended to have people to enjoy my content, so i truly do appreciate it! also also i redid a taglist thing, if anyone is interested! no pressure! just thought i should maybe have one? i love u all mwah

taglist form here!

Your only company in the classroom was a single ray of moonlight peeking through the window. You scoffed at yourself for letting silly rumors get to you. You should’ve been used to them, especially going to an all human school. Atlas, here you were wasting your time hiding in classrooms. You didn’t want to burden any of the brothers with your problems. Although, you wouldn’t know if they’d be able to tell. Even so you didn’t want to drag their names along with yours. There was enough attention between you all when people found out you lived with them. You swung your feet, frustrated at how sensitive you were. Studying, that'd get my mind out of this gutter. You swung open the first textbook in your stack. It was about Curses and Hexes. The thought of using these against your classmates wove through your mind. You browsed through like they were some sort of catalog.

“Oi, there ya are! Where have ya been? Why are ya here still?” Mammon bombarded. You stumbled in your seat, dropping the book onto the ground. You would’ve followed if it wasn’t for Mammon’s quick reflexes. He held on your chair, raising an eyebrow.

“M-Mammon? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be home by now”

“Coulda ask you the same thing! You’re studyin’ here? You could do that back home.” He replied, still right beside you. You tried to control your nervousness, but you felt your heart pound with every second. You avoided his gaze and hesitated. Guilt began to settle in, realizing he was looking for you.

“Yeah. I just, got caught up. You can go ahead, I’ll follow soon.” You laughed. It was hard recognizing your own voice. You just hoped it’d be enough for Mammon. He let go of your chair and moved from your view. You let out a soft breath, as you clutched your book.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“Huh?” You let out, turning around. Mammon stood behind you, facing the door. He shuffled around, to face you. There was an odd look of worried splattered across his face.

“You’ve been actin’ weird these few days. You’ve avoiding everyone, but, specially me. Did ya just forget we walk back home together? I didn’t say anything bad right? Did-“

“It’s nothing to do with you, Mammon.” You interrupted. Your finger fidgeted along the points of the pages. You didn’t consider how this would of effected them. Silence fell upon hearing footsteps from outside of the classroom.

“... can't believe a human like them, is getting special treatment... like it's really annoying how... they're kinda weird too haha... living at the house of lamentation? ugh! why them... hate living with a human...”

Their words cut in and out like an lost signal. You sighed, just relieved they didn’t enter the room. On the other hand, Mammon was fuming. No one had the right to bad mouth you. He teased you but that was just a friendly thing! He gritted his teeth, heading towards the voices. You had the moment to grab his wrist, pulling him back. “Wait. Mammon, don’t.”

“Why? They shouldn’t be sayin’ things like that! Specially ‘bout you!” He spat, glaring towards the door. His protectiveness pulled on your heartstrings.

“It’s whatever, just don’t get involved.. please.” You whispered, slightly tugging him away from the door. He turned to look at you. Your eyes were soft, and full of worry. And yet the shined so bright along with the moonlight. It was almost as if the light was there just to accompany them.

“Is this why you’ve been weird?” He asked. You felt your soul sink a pit in your stomach. The look on your face was enough of an answer to him. You dropped your head down, defeated by yourself.

“I…I didn’t want to drag you into this. It’s stupid. I’m sorry.” You muttered. You tried holding back the tears but they puddled along your waterline. "I wanted to be able to leave you all out of it." Mammon stood silent but still stood beside you. Your tears ended up pattering along the floor, spread around your feet. Being so vulnerable and open made you feel absolutely mortified. You didn't want anyone to know about this, and even worse, let anyone see you cry about it.

“It’s not stupid.” He replied, placing a hand on your own. You didn't realize that you had your hand still wrapped around his wrist. "Anyone would be upset."

"Mammon, I'm not a child. I should be able to just push these stupid rumors away. I'm just too sensitive."

"There ain't anything wrong with that. It's okay to be sensitive... it's actually a little refreshing." Mammon replied, falling into a murmur. His cheeks flushed a soft shade of red. "It's like comforting."

You tilted your head. It was a bit odd to see such a timid version of Mammon. "I-"

"We all love you! So, hiding from us only hurts everyone. I'm your first, so hiding from me... is just unbelievable! Ya should be able to come to me 'bout anything!" He blurted, grabbing ahold of both of your hands. You froze at the sudden change. Mammon was not the best at showing his emotions. But, here he was trying his best to pour out his heart to you. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't working. Even if he wasn't the best at words, the thought really shined through. A smile slowly made it's way through you. You squeezed Mammon's hands.

"I love you too. Thank you. I.. didn't mean to worry you." You nervously laughed. The silence fell through again, as the two of you just stood in each other's presence. Your eyes glanced between your hands intertwined and Mammon's expression. He shifted his head a bit, looking around. But before you could say anything, he'd already moved in to kiss you. It was quick but unexpectedly soft.

"Sorry! I shoulda asked? I'm sorry!"

You could only laugh at how stupidly cute he could be sometimes. You pulled him into a hug. You didn't expect this to be an outcome of what today had in store, but you'd take it. It was better than crying in a classroom.

"Stop apologizing, and... kiss me again."

[todaywasamaritale]

‘leave tonight or live and die this way’

✧ mari ♡ 18 y/o cryptid fem ✧ s.her ♡ christian ✧ biromantic asexual ♡ 🇵🇸🫒 ✧

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[bewitched-forest]

Danny & Billy - Brothers in Too Much Power

For @gummybearstastelikesadness

Summary: Danny Fenton and Billy Batson were a pair of homeless, secretly super power minors trying to navigate life. Danny Fenton takes on the role of Billy's older brother, and the two spend a pleasant breakfast together. Until they are rudely interrupted by Billy's Justice League communicator popping off. Billy Batson, now taking on the form of Captain Marvel, goes to handle the disturbance, until realizing it was Skulker, ghost hunter extraordinaire. Billy taps out, letting Danny Phantom take over.

[Ao3: link]

Danny shifts, eyes fluttering open before he squeezes them closed with a groan. Despite it being winter, the morning is bright with the sun reflecting against the snow. He shifts, blinking his eyes open when he notices the head tucked into his shoulder. With blurry eyes, he looks down at the mop of hair just below his head. It takes him a moment, the phantoms of sleep playing their tricks before he realizes that it's Billy.

 The two boys had met, well, almost a year ago now. Danny had gone on the run, his coronation as King of the Infinite Realms making him a much more sought-after ghost, by his parents and strangers alike. Billy had been homeless for a couple of years, bouncing around Fawcett City’s back alleys long before he became Captain Marvel. The two had met when Danny broke into an abandoned home, one Billy had also been using to stay. The strained situation when they had run into each other broke when Danny accidentally slipped a pun, causing Billy to laugh. The two had ended up becoming something of a family, Billy regarding Danny as an older brother and Danny seeing Billy as a younger one in kind.

 Danny shifted again, adjusting Billy still asleep behind him before scanning the room. The room in question was very run down. Half the roof had long since been gone, causing the only part free of snow to be the corner Danny and Billy had tucked themselves into. Thankfully, everything seemed untouched. 

 He heard a soft crackle, pulling his attention to look up. Danny sighed at the sight of the Crown of Fire floating softly above him. It must’ve manifested in their sleep, providing warmth on the freezing winter night. Danny takes a deep breath, forcing the crown away to wherever it went. Billy shifted against Danny, opening his eyes slowly and looking up. Danny looked back down, smiling softly.

 “Morning Danny,” says Billy as he pulls away, rubbing his eyes.

 “Morning Billy,” Danny replies, groaning softly as he stretches.

 Billy shifts, reaching for the backpacks. He pulls them closer, passing the black one to Danny while he opens his red one. Danny takes the bag, tugs open the zipper and reaches in. He pulls out a couple of cans of food, ranging from corn to green beans to regular brown beans.

Billy looks over, grabbing one of the cans. “Hey. What kind of vegetable is jealous?”

 Danny looks over with a grin, squinting at Billy. “I dunno, what?”

 Billy turns the can, showing the label to Danny. “Green beans!”

 Danny snorts, before breaking down into laughter. He grabs the rest of the cans, packing them away. Billy laughs, setting the can of green beans next to its double before digging into his bag. He pulls out a bag of frozen beef jerky, offering it to Danny once he starts calming.

 Danny grabs it, setting it down before summoning the Crown of Fire again. He reaches up, grabs it with both hands, and sets it on the ground. Or, well, setting it to hover just over the ground. Billy grabs the cans, holding them over the crown as he mutters under his breath, pulling on stamina of Atlas to protect him from the heat. Danny smiles, grabbing the jerky and holding it over the crown as well. The two shift closer, leaning against each other as they wait for the crown to warm their breakfast for the day.

 Danny sighs, plopping his head on top of Billy’s. “We should probably move today. We’ve been in this house for almost a week now.”

 Billy nods. “Yeah. Probably should have an actual roof, too.”

 Danny snorts. “Definitely.” 

 Danny pulls the jerky away from the crown, pulling it open. Billy smiles, settings down the cans as he grabs some jerky. The two go on to eat their breakfast peacefully, Danny sending away the crown.

 As Danny gets up to throw away the cans, an alarm sounds. Billy jumps, reaching into his bag and pulling out a communicator. He looks up at Danny before tapping it, the screen lighting up to show the Justice League logo.

 “Captain Marvel, 1-5,” Billy says. Danny crouches down next to him, looking at the screen.

 “Captain Marvel, 1-5. Access granted,” sounds a female voice, before the screen changes.

 “What's up, Billy?”

 “There’s apparently an unidentified disturbance here in Fawcett City. Since I’m closest and available, they’re asking me to check it out.”

 “Alright then.” Danny stands, grabbing the bag of cans and swinging it around his shoulders. “Guess we ought to get going then.”

 Billy stands up, grabs the other backpack, and offers it to Danny. “You’re coming?”

 “Just to watch. I want to make sure you’re okay, tiny.” Danny grins, taking the other bag.

 Billy squints. “Shazam!” he shouts. Lightning strikes down, and in his place stands Captain Marvel. “I’m not tiny now,” he states, puffing out his chest.

 Danny laughs, floating off the ground to put them both face to face. “You’ll always be tiny to me.”

 Captain Marvel just sighs as he lifts off, following his communicator. Danny shifts to be invisible before following.

 } ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ {

 When Captain Marvel arrives on the scene, he tilts his head. In front of him is a man of metal, with a silver mohawk. He has several guns, from a bazooka to a machine gun. And the man is glowing. Brightly.

 Danny groans beside his younger brother. “This one’s one of mine.”

 Marvel blinks, looking over to where Danny’s voice came from. “One of yours?”

 “Yeah… Remember how I told you I was a hero once too? This bastard is one of the ghosts I fought. Name’s Skulker. And he wants my pelt. I’ll deal with him.”

 “I’m sorry he wants your what?!” Captain Marvel asks as he floats down to one of the rooftops, looking scandalized at his brother once Danny shows himself.

 “Yeah, it's nothing. I’ll tell you later.” Danny slips off the backpacks, handing them to Captain Marvel before he shifts, white wings expanding to replace the human boy.

 “O-okay. Shazam!” Marvel shouts after he drops the bags, turning back into Billy. He watches as Phantom lifts off, flying towards the metal man and punching him. 

 “Ah! Brat! I have found you at last!” shouts Skulker, aiming the machine gun at Phantom.

 “Can it, Skulker!” Phantom says, grabbing Skulker and slamming him into the ground. Billy races to the edge of the building, looking over to continue watching his brother fight.

 Skulker was definitely outmatched by Phantom. Phantom had him pinned down, and was actively tearing apart the various weapons he had. Billy watched with wide eyes, jaw-dropping as Phantom ripped off the head. Phantom shakes the head, a small lump of green tumbling out. Billy watches as his older brother grabs the thermos on his belt, sucking up the entire mech suit and blob before capping it again.

 Phantom looks up and around before spotting Billy on the roof. He lifts off, turning invisible before looping back around and settling down by Billy. He shifts back to human after letting go of the invisibility, clearing his throat.

 Billy whirls around, barely hesitating to slam into Danny with a hug. A little cheating with flight is probably the only reason Danny didn’t hit the floor.

 “Oof-” Danny mutters, returning the hug.

 “That was awesome!” Billy yells as he leans back, staring at Danny with a face full of admiration. “You must’ve been such a good hero before! That was so cool to watch! You just slammed into the ground and then bam, pow, crunch he was done for!”

 Danny chuckles as he steps back, Billy taking the opportunity to practically bounce around. “Yeah. I guess.”

 Billy pauses, looking back at Danny. “Why did you stop? Being a hero and all? You’re really good at it.”

 Danny sighed, looking away. “I got crowned king. When I became the King of the Infinite Realms, all of the sudden the ghost hunters and magic users started hunting me down even more. I spent most of my battles trying to save my own skin rather than actually keeping the peace.”

 Billy frowns, walking over and hugging Danny again. “I mean we have each other now. We could become a team! Then I could keep away the hunters, and you could be a hero again!”

 Danny looks down at Billy, blinking in shock before hugging Billy back with a smile. “Ah- Maybe. It wouldn’t be easy. Ghosts aren’t exactly recognized as citizens.”

 Billy grins. “Well, that seems like an injustice to me. And lucky for you!” Billy steps back, puffing out his chest and pointing at it with his thumb,” I’m a member of the Justice League! And we specialize in fighting injustice!”

 Danny chuckles, ruffling Billy’s hair. “Okay. Let’s talk about this later. We definitely need to head off.”

 Billy smiles, nodding. “Alright.” He grabs his backpack, throwing it on as Danny does the same. Then he grabs Danny’s hand, interlacing his fingers.

 Danny smiles before turning them both invisible. He walks over to the edge of the roof, lifting off into the air. The two fly off, set about continuing their day.

[fairmerthefarmer]

Hello?

So I noticed a huge influx of followers, I kind of thought they were all bots, but after seeing some other posts from some of the blogs these accounts were following (thanks @bob-artist ) I think some of you may just be super new accounts and tumblr recommended me? (I’m very confused rn, my posts have found some people who like the things but they haven’t gotten THAT many reblogs or notes, this is a fairly new account itself)

ANYWAY if you are a real person welcome I guess, if you’re a bot I’ve been taking measures to do my best to protect my art from ai learning software and that’s gonna keep happening. If it turns out everyone’s a bot I’m gonna feel a little silly but I’ll survive.

——————————————————————————-

So now I’m making an introduction post.

I’m Fairmer (The name is both because it’s my name in my stardew save with my sister but also cause I grew up with my dad being a farmer) I’m staying anonymous-ish for now, that may change. But being perceived on social media is scary so we are starting here.

I’m a graphic designer and illustrator living in Manitoba, who burnt out insanely upon graduation and stopped doing illustration outside of my job. I’m new to actually posting on tumblr, or honestly anywhere. Sometime I may link my portfolio here, but right now it’s under construction/being updated.

I’m also queer/bi, and have unexplained chronic pain that’s most likely from endometriosis but I keep most of my complaining about pain on my other blog.

I post mostly fanart so if you like:

- Nancy drew, PC games or otherwise. These in particular have motivated me to get back into actually drawing again.

- other games like Stardew Valley, Spiritfarer, Hollow knight, Hades, etc. (cozy games or otherwise) (also I was a teenage exocolonist except that’s gonna take me like a few business months if I decide to do art for it)

- Narnia, Lord of the rings, fantasy in general (Dnd?)

- Smosh, (current) dropout tv, starkid, tin can bros, shipwrecked, BDG,

- shows like ATLA, Ducktales 2017, ROTTMNT, The Owl house, Tangled the series, Hilda, Over the garden wall, etc.

- HTTYD franchise including riders/defenders of berk and RTTE, mostly rtte.

- like anything else, idk Barbie probably, maybe good omens or dr who? oh also I’m a theatre kid, big fan of hadestown and legally blonde.

You’ll most likely find me posting something at some point involving any of the above. I may post some originals too, but I’m not putting too much pressure on myself here.

Anyway, this is a pretty new account so I don’t have much stuff yet, but If you like my stuff you’re welcome to stay, apologies to any not-bots that attempted to follow me.

I may get into being open for commissions in the future, but for now it is what it is.

Also free Palestine

[thepublishingpress]

you're holding the heart of mine

Poseidon knew.

He knew that one day, Sally would move on.

That he would leave her, and she would cry over it, but then someone new would sweep her off her feet, and she would be happy.

But as he looked at her, her bright blue eyes, her big smile, he found he didn’t want that to happen.

So he let himself succumb to temptation, and did not pull away.

~*~

That was a mistake. 

A child came from the union, and when Sally tells him she is pregnant, he panics. 

This was not supposed to happen.

When he tells her, she is furious. “What do you mean, this was not supposed to happen?” She demands. “I tell you we will have a child, and this is your reaction?”

“Sally,” He says pleadingly, “You must understand, I am a god!”

“I know!” She said sharply, “But what does this have to do with our child?”

He lowered his voice. “My brother has forbidden us from having children. Do you know what lengths he will go to rid any Forbidden Child that poses a threat to Olympus?”

She pales, but places one hand firmly on her stomach. “I cannot let him go, Poseidon.” She says, scared but determined.

“It will be hard,” He warns her, “You will have to face much suffering.”

“I will do anything for my baby.” She raises her head high, and Poseidon knew there would be nothing he could do to sway her.

Poseidon drew in a breath. “Very well.” 

~*~

Their child is born, and Poseidon cannot help but visit him. 

He approaches her bed, and she smiles weakly at him.

He stares at the little boy, his black hair so much like his own.

“What is his name?” He asks.

“Perseus. Perseus Jackson.”

He tilts his head. “But that is the name of my brother’s son.”

She shakes her head. “I did not name him for his heritage. I named him Perseus for a happy ending to my son’s tale.”

Oh. Poseidon’s smile became a little forced. He didn’t have the heart to tell Sally that happy endings did not come often. Even Heracles did not receive rest even after he was bestowed godhood. He stroked the babe’s head. “He will be a great hero,” He said instead.

Sally smiles. “I know.”

~*~

The next time he visits, their is another man’s ring on her finger.

He does not let the jealousy loose, he does not tear the house down with waves to remove the competition. Instead, he asks, “Who?”

Sally sighs. It was not a lovesick sigh, thank the gods. “His name is Gabe Ugliano.”

That man is not worthy of you, Poseidon thinks. But then again, he would never think any mortal would be worthy of Sally Jackson, queen among women.

“Why?” He asks her.

She twists the ring on her finger. Poseidon desperately wanted to take it off and throw it away. “H-his scent,” She says carefully, “It will mask Percy.”

A brilliant idea, but… “Is he a good man? Does he treat you well?”

She inhales, and Poseidon knows the answer before she says it. “No. The answer is no.”

Poseidon grimaces, the rage bubbling up inside him, begging to be freed. Sally takes his hand. “It’s the best option to protect him,” She says.

Poseidon swallows and nods. “Of course.”

~*~

The man is gone at last, killed by Medusa’s head. Poseidon made sure Hades knew that Gabe deserved the worst of punishments.

He came to visit, one final time. 

Sally opens the door, surprised. 

“Poseidon?” She asks softly.

He clears his throat. “How– how are you? How is,” He waves his hand, “Everything?”

She smiles. “Good,” She says. “I have a daughter, now.”

There was a small sinking feeling in his stomach. “That’s– that’s wonderful.” He croaks. “What’s her name?”

“Estelle. Estelle Blofis.”

Poseidon looks at Sally. She’s no longer Jackson. She’s a Blofis, with a young, curious daughter, a brave, bold son, and a husband who will not leave her like he did.

A queen among women deserved a family like that.

She did not deserve having to settle for Poseidon.

“I’m happy for you,” He tells her, and he means it.

He leaves, for the final time.

&*&*&*&*&

soo... hi. considering the atla streak ive been on, i thought id shower my pjo fans some love :) will be posting a tv-show based one later!!

[winter-leftovers]

Til The End Of Eternity || Chapter two: Wherefore Art Thou, Trollhunter?(2/?)

(Douxie Casperan x f!reader)

Summary: Y/n is trying to figure her life out but is going to be hard since her brother is the new trollhunter and she is plagued by dreams and feelings she doesn’t understand.

Chapter Summary: Strickler visits the Lake’s home. Y/n confronts Jim about his behaviour.

Word count: 1760

Warnings: not really but there’s a mention of animal abuse but is a lie

(Season 1 Episodes 3,4,5 and a lil of 6)

Song?: wipe your tears by Halsey

Previous — Next

Masterlist

On the walk home, Y/n thought about what Randy said. Her brain stuck on the idea why Douxie would be interested in her. They only seen each other at the other one's job and had a small chat every once in a while in the sidewalk but that wouldn’t mean he would buy strings he doesn’t need. Right? The only conclusion she could think of was that Randy was messing with her.

When she got close to her house door she heard Al low meows, she was mad.

“Al calm down!” She heard her mother scream.

She ran to the door to aid her mother. When she opened the door, the hairs on her back stood up. Her cat, Al, was stalking a man and her mother trying to pull him back.

Al is a tall and light cat but when he is angry his body becomes heavy, like he was full of bricks. Impossible to move.

Y/n put her bag down ignoring her uneasiness.

“Al, calm down!” She got close to her furry friend.

When he heard her, Al stopped and slowly went to sit by Y/n’s feet without taking his eyes from the strange man.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Strickler. I don’t know what came onto him. He’s usually so friendly!” Barbara rambled.

“Yeah, sorry. He used to be abused so he’s wary of strange men” Y/n lied.

‘He felt it too’ she thought.

Barbara furrowed her brow at her daughter. She knew it was a lie. She remembered when Y/n brought Al from the park. Little Y/n saw him hiding in a small hole and took him home. Barbara was reluctant to keep the cat but when she saw how much her children love him she couldn’t force them to get rid of him.

“It’s okay. No need to worries'' Strickler got down from the chair he was standing “The cat thinks it’s protecting it’s family”

“He” Y/n corrected.

“Oh, of course. He. My apologies” he smiled.

Y/n didn’t like him. Some kind of alarm was going off in her brain but she couldn’t do anything.

“You must be Y/n. Jim’s sister" Stickler tried to start a polite conversation. He seemed really interested in Jim but Y/n wasn’t convinced. Al wasn’t convinced either, he kept glaring at him from the other side of the room, moving his tail side to side.

The front door opened, interrupting the chat.

“Jim, I’m in the kitchen!” Called Barbara.

“Oh, you would so not believe what happened on the way home from…“

“Look who stopped by?”

“Hello, Jim” Mr. Strickler turned his stool to face Jim.

“Mr. Strickler”

“Mr. Strickler came by to congratulate you” said Y/n with a fake smile.

“Oh, that’s really…nice”

“It’s a great honor that you’ve been chosen to wield this mantle. I’ve no doubt that you’ll provee equal to the task”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were trying out for Romeo and Juliet?” Barbara served the tea she prepared.

“Wait, maybe we could back up a few steps” Jim said.

“Jim, surely you knew you’d won the part of Romeo after your breathtaking audition yesterday”

Y/n raised her brows and mouthed at her little brother “Romeo?”

“Yeah, after the audition, I had to run but… Wait, I got the part?”

“I was just remarking to your mother and sister that I’m a touch concerned about you being spread so thin, particularly in light of your new commitment to the chess club”

“Chess club??” Y/n mouthed.

“And I didn’t even think you knew how to play chess” Barbara laughed.

“You don’t” Y/n whispered.

Strickler took a sip of the horrendous tea Barbara offered him and Y/n held back a laugh.

“It’s like you have this secret life I know nothing about” said Barbara

“You have no idea”

“Atlas, too, carries the weight of the world on his shoulders…”

And then it hit her, maybe Y/n had been so lost in her own stuff that she lost focus on her little brother. Their mother works too much and Jim is too young to carry this much weight.

“Now I am charged and ready to go. To be or not to be. Right? Am I right?” Jim played with a small base.

“That’s Hamlet” Y/n said. She was not convinced.

Barbara offered more but Strickler rejected it saying that he didn’t want to overstay his welcome and before leaving, he offered his phone number to Barbara making Y/n roll her eyes.

“He has a point. There are only so many hours in the day, Jim. If your grades slip, even a little, I’m going to insist you cut back, starting with the things you do for me”

“I like taking care of you”

Y/n sighed “Mom’s right Jim”

“It’s my job to take care of you. Both of you” said Barbara looking at her daughter.

“Do you know when I was old enough to ask about dad, remember what you told me?” Jim asked.

Barbara nodded.

“You said ‘we just need to take care of each other’ That’s all I’m doing”

Y/n frowned. She didn’t like remembering her father.

Barbara didn’t say anything. She just hugged them.

“You must be starving. How about breakfast for dinner? Even I can’t screw up an omelet”

Y/n and Jim shared a look.

“Wouldn’t be so sure” Jim said.

“What?” Asked Barbara.

“Sure!” Laughed Y/n.

—

Days passed after Mr.Strickler paid a visit and Jim was getting more away. Being out so late doing God knows what and then, breaking into a museum for Toby’s chubby chaser. Something was up and Y/n had to find out what.

After coming home for a long shift, she found her mother setting the table for what can only be described as a feast. Blueberry waffles, bacon mac and cheese, shrimp cakes…

“What’s going on?” Y/n let her bag fall.

“I wanted to make cookies and I decided to make yours and mom’s favorites” Jim came out of the kitchen setting yet another plate of food on the table.

“Aha, really, what’s going on?”

“Nothing! It’s just…we all been so busy. When’s the last time we’ve really sat down and talked?”

Y/n noticed her brother’s nervousness so she played along.

—

“Oh! That was delicious. I don’t know what I do without you, kiddo” Barbara rubbed her stomach.

“For real. I think I never ate this much” Y/n smiled.

“Shrimp cakes? Gosh, I haven’t had those since…since…” Barbara tried to remember.

“Since dad made them for us?” Jim finished for her.

“I didn’t think you were old enough to remember “

Y/n could see the sadness filling the room.

“I remember enough. I remember how his beard would scratch my face when he hugged me”

She could remember that too. She could remember his smile when she called him dad for the first time. She remember him looking so happy. Until he didn’t.

“How he used to make you laugh. How he would listen Y/n played the piano even tho she knew two songs”

They laughed.

“But, most of all, how much he hurt you when he left”

They looked at him.

“Jim, where is this coming from?” Y/n asked, terrified of the answer.

“No matter what happens to me, I would never leave you like that. At least, well” he chuckles “not by choice” he got closer “I just want you to know that I’ll always love you.”

“Don’t you start that talk with me. I’m still hoping that you end close at an in-state college, like your sister” Barbara put a strand of Y/n’s hair behind her ear.

She smiled back trying to hide the fear her brother's words awoke in her.

—

It was 3 A.M and Y/n was looking at the ceiling. She couldn’t sleep after dinner. Jim was acting weird and she was scared. Something was wrong but she didn’t know what and she didn’t like that.

Y/n turned on her bed. The picture on her nightstand looked back at her: it was a picture of her, Jim and their mom at her 14th birthday. Y/n didn’t know when her actual birthday was so Barbara told her to choose any date she wanted to celebrate and she had chosen the day Barbara took her home. The three of them were so happy, even without their father, and Y/n didn’t want to lose that. She didn’t want to lose anyone else so she went into Jim’s room.

She opened the door and found Jim reading an old book:

“What are you doing?” She asked

“N-nothing! What could I be doing?” He closed the book and tried to hide it.

Y/n sighed and closed the door.

“I want to know what’s going on, Jim”

“Nothing!”

“Don’t lie! We don’t lie to each other” She felt her eyes filling with tears “I’m scared, Jim. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m your sister. I want to help you”

“You can’t help me, Y/n”

“Then, I just want to be there for you” she sat down at the foot of the bed.

“You won’t believe me” He spoke after a beat without looking at her.

“Try me” she grabbed his arm.

Jim went to the middle of his room and said the incantation:

“For the glory of Merlin, daylight is mine to command”

Y/n felt the words make a small rock in her stomach but the blinding blue light distracted her. She shielded her eyes from the light that was coming out her brother.

“Shit” she looked at the armor “That’s so cool…and so….weird?”

“I know, right?” He chuckled

“Can I touch it?” She asked with her hand already up.

“Yeah. Oh! Look!” He lifted his sword knowing her sister would go insane. She loved swords.

“No way!!” Jim could see her eyes sparkle a mile away “but what’s all this? Where did you get it from?”

Jim explained everything from the trolls to the goblins to the fight with Draal.

“Okay…that’s…a lot” Y/n said.

They were sitting on the floor with their backs to the bed.

“Yeah and I’m probably going to be destroyed after the fight” he scratched his head.

“No! I’m going to help you! Ok?” she took him by the shoulder. “I don’t know how but I will”

“Ok” he smiled. He was happy that he didn’t have to hide from his sister anymore.

[kitkatopinions]

Out of curiosity since we know that hunters are basically a sub group of law enforcement. Is there possible any way the show could've avoid the copagenda?

If not how would you rewrite hunters without being associated with cops?

Fantasy law enforcement is a little bit like fantasy royalty. There's a certain suspension of disbelief when it comes to fantasy worlds that they're not just going to operate with the exact same rules that our world does. This is different than things set in our actual world, like say NCIS or Brooklyn 99, that are actually portraying members of our real world police system. You can root for a fictional king without losing your good people points, and that doesn't mean that you're on board with the irl monarchy. You can root for fictional law enforcement without actually supporting real life police.

However, I'm of the opinion that especially with law enforcement, people have to be very careful if they're going to make fantasy equivalents because it very easily can get into copaganda territory if the law enforcement is too close to ours, used in the same ways, is proven to be corrupt and yet still celebrated, things like that. In RWBY "Hunters" (or, "huntsman and huntresses" cause I guess in universe they don't have inclusive terms for things,) are kind of used without much explanation for what they're supposed to actually do until season seven when the kids actually become hunters. At first it seems like Hunters are really just monster hunters, but we also see the kids training to fight humans (Pyrrha Vs CRDL, Vytal Tournament.) And no one acts like it's different or not what hunters do when Ruby fights bad guys like Roman or Cinder in the first couple seasons. But at that point, I didn't have (much) of a problem with the concept still. Then in V4 and V5, we started to get this picture of Hunters as essentially hired hands, protecting small towns outside the kingdoms from Grimm on top of their jobs within the cities protecting people from Grimm. There was still the knowledge that Hunters fought people too (Qrow tries to recruit hunters to help fight Salem's faction in Mistral,) but the job still seemed at that point to be more focused on the monster-hunting aspect, with the rest of it being special circumstances. Cool. It was easy to assume that Hunters were very different from the 'cops' we had seen in Vale chasing Sun. (Side note but even then, RWBY was still already in copaganda territory in V5 when Blake and Sun called the cops on the White Fang in V5 and I don't care about the in-universe necessity, I care about the fact that the writers chose to make up everything to get the characters there.)

But then in V7, the first we really see of Hunters at work and getting assignments and our main characters on the field officially, and they're pulling out their badges and arresting people and acting like authorities to the citizens and demanding entry into houses by pointing weapons at peoples faces and are basically just extreme versions of police except they believed they shouldn't have accountability. And I know that people are going to say that Atlas just does things differently because Ironwood is the headmaster and the head of the military, but A. it's very hard to say that definitively when we've gotten so little info on how licensed Hunters actually operate in canon, and B. It doesn't even matter, because the end result is that our main characters were licensed Hunters in Atlas, within that system and saw no problem. This on top of the fact that we've seen both corruption (Dee and Dudley, Leo, Ironwood, Qrow's mysterious Hunter friends,) and bigotry (Cardin, Weiss, Yang and Coco if we're being honest,) in the ranks of Hunters... It doesn't paint a flattering picture at all. Even then, I wouldn't be upset if this kind of thing was challenged and deconstructed within the show. But instead, the Hunters are looked at as superior to Atlas military (despite, you know, the fact that they're essentially the same thing,) the mains confidently flash their badges and proclaim themselves as Hunters with pride, and in V9, they essentially define what a Huntsman and Huntress IS by saying that they're good people who help others who can't help themselves or something, and then profess that their job is their identity and therefore they're good people. I mean, come on! We literally see Cardin harassing Faunus classmates and blackmailing others and he was on track to get licensed as a badge-carrying law enforcement officer that presumably can arrest people and muscle their ways into peoples houses, and the mains knowing that still define the job itself as something inherently good that good people do? Blake defines it as something good that good people do?!?! On top of all that, there's this general idea in the show (and from the fifteen or so chapters of Before the Dawn I read, the books too) that what actually makes Hunters good is the lack of accountability, which is a very bad messaging to give to your 'basically cops' that arrest people and point their weapons in peoples faces, especially in the 2020s.

So yeah, the show itself had a chance to make the Hunters distinctly other from cops and not full on corrupt, which in a fantasy world I would say is good enough. If the Hunters were just monster hunters with Ozpin's shadow war fighting Salem's people behind the scenes, I think that would be a good way around it. But even if they wanted to lean more on politics and takedowns of people like Jacques in the Atlas arc, they could've had our mains either just be adjacent to that as part of the shadow war, but not as licensed badge-carrying law enforcement officers themselves arresting people. Along with some other changes like not having Sun and Blake call the cops on the White Fang and not have the White Fang this big bad terrorist group either, that would make it so that I'm fine with it.

Personally, I would've gone the route of making the Hunters just monster hunters while Oz also has this shadow war going on, and the Hunter Academies are regulated by the government. And instead of having the Atlas hunters just basically cops under the military, I would've had the Atlas military and the Hunters be much more separate, with (not evil) James running both, but in different ways, and eventually have him fired from his position with the military and have somebody else more corrupt come in or something. I haven't made many plans to the Atlas arc for my own personal rewrite ideas yet, but I think that could work.

I would go the route of trying to make the Hunter Academies less corrupt and more separated from police, but I know other people are going the route of leaning into the problems and then having them acknowledged and dealt with instead, and that's a good option too. But yeah, the way the RWBY writers decided to go is just cops and copaganda by a different name. They might as well have just had the mains become cops in V7 and then profess that their identity is being cops and cops are perfect, because it's basically the same result imo.

[agent-atlas]

Atlas - Outdoor

Well I figure. Make an oc. post about it. Actually make lore so. HERE WE GO!

HAZAH ATLAS Okay enough dramatics. Name: Atlas Age: Adult. Like.. 20-30.. (Im just assuming most of the mascots maybe like. minus Klutzy are adults so.) Gender: ... What are you a cop? (Non-Binary) Pronouns: They/Them Profession: Freelance Photographer, mostly for the paper. Yep. Nothing else. .. nah they are an EPF agent but I will get to that in the reblog

They own two puffles. Gear (He/Him): A small black puffle who wears a pair of like.. work goggles on his head. He's way more protective of Atlas and doesn't really like anyone's company SnowBall (He/Him): A small white puffle who is fluffy. He wears a small snowflake clip. He doesn't care who you are he wants attentions and loves all of you. Personality: Nice, kind. Can be a bit sassy if put to the test. uh.. a little violent. When you first meet them they are a little shy. But once you get to know them. OH BOY will they chat your ear off. Uh.. Other interesting info that is not relating to their job:

at least in a character ai thing I did their house has or will eventually collapse in on itself. - Before anyone asks. NO. No penguins nor puffles were harmed in the downing of a house. just scared.. and Atlas ran outside in not sutible pjs and was cold that was it lol.

Has chased someone with a jackhammer. Twice.

Short. Like... Most of the mascots are taller. I still don't have definite heights but Rory is like the only one who is their height I think. thats how I think right now

Definatley doesn't have a crush nope no way don't even think about it nope nonononononono-

the bow in their hair is a gift from Rory.

they have a cybernetic left eye. I know you can't see it yet you will. How they got it.. well.. Thats a story for another day. (It also explains the scar on their beak.)

[ironwoodprotectionsquad]

Why do FNDM keep screaming "fascism" about Atlas/Ironwood, like seriously? Having an army is not the same as being a fascist. This is a world where Literal Demon Hatred Monsters are a fact of life. Every nation should have a giant army, they need them. You know, for the monsters. (And it's *especially* baffling when Team RWBY and the civilians they supposedly care about are only alive because the "evil fascist army" bravely fought and died against the monsters. While Ruby drank tea in a house.)

I never understood the hatred the fndm/show has towards the Atlesian army. As you said their is an endless army of soulless man eating monsters that roam the earth and have canonically destroyed villages when said villages cannot afford to have hunters protecting them. We're trying to paint hunters are the morally correct way to protect people (sometimes) but we have people dying because hunters demanded too much and people couldn't pay.

And honestly that is what really kills me about this whole thing, the ways hunters work, people die if they cannot afford protection while Atlas willingly sends its army to other kingdoms to help when needed. Having this whole debate about the ethics of having an army really doesn't work in RW//BY's setting. Their is no talking to the grimm and trying to make peace with them, the grimm will hunt down and destroy humans until none are left, forcing people to take up arms against them. And the supposedly more "ethical" option is people who charge insane amounts of money for protection that towns regularly cannot afford them. Qrow even openly admits many hunters are shady and unethical which makes this anti army stance make even less sense.

And ontop of that as you said RW/BY sat back and let the evil army fight for them so they could sit around drinking tea and tsking because they "needed a break" as if the very army we're calling evil and unethical.....never got one. They've been fighting nonstop and haven't gotten to rest while RW//BY repeatedly has gotten breaks and still has the gall to moan and groan and complain. The choices are so baffling to me and it's insane this is the direction the show went with. If CR//WBY really wanted to have an anti army stance....they shouldn't have made a world with soulless man eating monsters that need to be fought.

[nonbayanary]

Are there any Eldest Sister Syndrome Anezaki Mamori fics out there???

I am fucking FERAL for fics about Mamori's internalized and repressed feelings on watching over a kid who isn't even biologically related to her. I'm talking about all the rage Mamori feels in her heart whenever she remembers how the other kids in elementary school treated Sena like shit, and the absolutely ugly truth that Sena's parents aren't doing anything to intervene in the bullying.

I'm talking about Mamori losing her faith in adults early on, because they did nothing to stop Sena's bullies. I'm talking about Mamori joining the student council because she internally screams, "Fuck it! If they aren't going to do anything about it, then I WILL."

I'm talking about Mamori putting herself in a position of power as a member of the Student Council to protect her little brother Sena, who no one else but her and Riku (who moved a long time ago) seem to care about protecting.

I'm talking about all the RAGE Mamori feels towards the world, but shoves deep down inside her core. And the despair she feels that, "If I don't do it, will anyone else do it???"

I'm talking about Mamori basically fucking PARENTING Sena when his own parents couldn't. She would bring bentos for him, take care of him when his parents couldn't, and she would even go so far as to use her own body as a shield for him.

I'm talking about the SHEER FRUSTRATION that must come over her when she spirals from time to time, because, "Why is it me? Why should I parent someone else, when I'm just a kid too? Why aren't the adults doing anything?"

But at the same time, like an Atlas, she carries the weight of it anyway. Because she loves Sena, and would bear the trauma of parentification if it came down to it.

I'm talking about the amount of utter KINDNESS it must take to forgive Sena's parents again and again, instead of lashing out at them whenever she sees them. I'm talking about the colossal amount of love it takes for Mamori to sacrifice so much for her baby brother, her found family, her beloved little Sena.

In this house, we FUCKING LOVE parentified Mamori, with Eldest Sister Syndrome. She deserves the fucking world and MORE for bearing all that weight.

[eldritch-m0th]

atla fans, we always talk about zuko’s character development but i never hear anyone appreciate Sokka’s character development of learning to respect women. It sounds silly and in the show his sexism is played for laughs quite a bit but i think its important ya know. Its not easy to unlearn prejudices like that and he did it with his circumstances stacked against him. he was raised in a very divided culture, women stayed home and took care of the house and children and men did everything else. the men of his village left for war and he was left as ‘the man of the house’ at a young age. he’s an older brother with a sister who has abilities could get her killed, that got their mother killed. he’s not sexist in that he’s better than women he was just raised to believe that women needed to be protected and that it was his job to do so. this doesn’t go away just because Suki kicked his butt a few times. he needed constant reminders, in the form of Katara’s independence mainly, that not all women were people who needed protecting and also that they were people who could protect him